mdni 18+ smut/fluff
easter bunny! unckuna who ends up squeezing his big ass into a full easter bunny costume—fuzzy suit, oversized head, floppy ears, the works—for his nephew yuji, half-brother choso and his friends, megumi and nobara on easter sunday.
no thanks to you... well, maybe him—but he's still blaming you for forcing him to do it.
earlier in the week, sukuna got stuck covering for jin on playdate duty. easy enough, you were with him—he'd take the kids to the park, let them tire themselves out. except they weren't running.
instead they were just sitting on the grass arguing about whether the easter bunny even comes to japan since none of them had ever seen him.
sukuna, leaning against the fence and half-listening, made one offhand comment about the easter bunny 'not even being real just like that red pot bellied freak san—'
—and you nearly took his fuckin’ head off for it.
four sets of eyes went wide and their bottom lips wobbled. so you shoved sukuna toward the ice cream truck with a hiss to buy them all cones as damage control while you distracted them on the swings.
it didn't end there. obviously.
by the time he'd got back, hands half frost bitten by all the ice cream he's juggling, you'd already promised them a sleepover. you told the kids if they all came over to 'unkiekuna's' saturday night, the easter bunny might just show up in the morning. the three six-year-olds cheered in unison. choso—pushing eleven, was too old to believe in easter bunny but of course he was already on board. that kid would walk through fire for yuji's happiness.
thus sukuna's fate was sealed.
truly, as the damned preparations fucked up his entire week. you taking him on mindless errands—him driving, you spending, the backseat and truck filling with various pastel bullshit and enough candy to rival halloween, to all culminate on sunday morning.
he'd have put a stop this before it started but knew he wouldn't be getting any ass for a while if he fucked this up so sukuna is forced to play nice.
he only grumbles half-hearted curses under his breath while you arranged the edible grass, stuffed baskets with candy, dyed eggs in pastel colors—and he set up a scavenger hunt across the backyard. the clues took him way too fuckin' long to write, mostly because you kept rejecting them.
"sukuna, they're six. they can't solve riddles about 'the ephemeral nature of spring.'"
"it builds character."
you deadpan.
"what? the lil' emo one's got it." he shrugs. "he's like ten and already reading danzai."
you roll your eyes, fed up.
"make it fun for KIDS, ryo—or i'll make you wear that costume all day."
reluctantly sukuna complies finishing early enough to catch a football game on tv in his full bunny suit.
when the quartet finally wakes up and spots the baskets, they lose their minds—three six-year-olds shrieking and tearing into candy while choso watches with a soft grin, giving yuji some of his candy too.
and then yuji spots the giant bunny on the sofa re-adjusting his balls.
"THE EASTER BUNNY CAME!"
sukuna freezes. megumi squints, approaching slow and suspicious at the easter bunny being a manchester fan—(too damn adept for his own good at six) while nobara and yuji are already sprinting at him. choso catches sukuna's eye and gives him a thumbs up like the supportive little shit he is.
sukuna spends the next hour in full costume, crouching down to their height, guiding them through the scavenger hunt in the yard with exaggerated paw gestures because he can't talk—yuji insisted the easter bunny doesn't speak, only wiggles his nose and hops.
hopping—like a fucking animal.
sukuna almost breaks character right then and there.
but then yuji looks up at him with those big stupid brown eyes, all wonder and belief—and choso's right there standing behind him, clutching a giant plush carrot like he might attempt seppuku with it if the illusion shatters for his little brother.
so sukuna rolls his eyes in his suit and proceeds to hop and wiggle his fucking nose—because he's ultimately just as weak as choso when it comes to that kid.
not that he'd ever admit it.
eventually the kids scatter across the lawn and sukuna retreats to the porch—arms crossed, still in the fucking suit even though he's sweating balls because if he sheds this skin where the kids can see, you'll peel his off next.
no sooner had he thought that then you appeared, fresh lemonade in hand.
speak of the devil. or succubus, more like—the way that sundress is sitting on you. the thin straps slide over your skin as you move and the hem of it is barely covering mid-thigh.
shit. the temperature inside the bunny suit immediately spikes about twenty degrees higher.
not being able to take his eyes off of you, sukuna takes in how the morning sun catches the fabric just right—sheer enough that he can see the shadow of your nipples, the soft sway of your chest.
clearly no bra. on a sunday too? slut, he thinks. especially as you crouch down to hand nobara a glass and your hem rides up, flashing the curve of your ass.
in that moment though something shifts in sukuna.
not just the obvious—though his cock is definitely awake now, twitching inside this humid furry prison.
no, it's the way you brush yuji's hair from his forehead, smiling. the way you laugh at something megumi mutters, perfectly handling his moods. the way you twirl nobara in her easter dress and the way choso trails behind you holding the lemonade pitcher like a little assistant, ready to refill glasses before you even ask.
all four of children orbit you like little moons...
you'd be a good mother.
the thought lands like a sucker punch to the jaw. sukuna tries to shake it off—what the fuck—but it lingers warm and unwelcome in his chest, made worse by the way you glance back at him with a smile like he's something soft.
sukuna is a lot of things, sure, but he is not soft—just ask his p.o. and former cellmates.
he's done 2 prison bids over the years.
and yet sukuna can't help but think maybe he is starting to go a bit fuzzy at he edges considering what he's currently wearing.
and ultimately, he doesn’t even resent you for it.
he’d do it for you again.
he’d do anything for you, actually...
that thought lingers and he visualizes your body round and plump with his seed, as you take the now empty glasses and pitcher back inside.
sukuna automatically follows.
the screen door barely shutting behind him before he's on you.
bunny head discarded on the floor with a thud. his paws yank you back against him before you can even turn around, and you gasp feeling how hard he already is, grinding his thick erection against your ass through all that ridiculous fabric.
"kuna—the kids—", you whine, already feeling yourself getting wet from the feral energy radiating off of him.
"outside."
sukuna is down to one-word answers only. his brain's not working right, clearly. and the only thing he gives a fuck about right now is being inside of you. so he's shoving your sundress up and dragging your pretty panties down your thighs to bend you over the counter.
"k-kuna!"
"shut up and take it. i know you're already soaked, woman."
he fishes his cock out through the costume's front slit, the seam splitting wider as he stuffs himself through—the thing was clearly not for someone of his size—and sinks into your cunt in one slowly, savoring your gooey core as you clench desperately.
wet already. still loose from the night before too. he fuckin' called it.
shit, you're so perfect.
sukuna groans hot against the back of your neck, burying his nose in your hair and tongue slurping up the perspiration beading at the back of your neck. the fuzzy suit bunches awkwardly at his hips as he bottoms out, your slick already dripping down his length and soiling the white fur.
"gonna have to burn this fuckin' thing after," he mutters, pulling out and fucking back in hard and fast enough to make you squeal.
"worth it tho..." sukuna muses, "now let's get this needy girl down here talkin' too."
one furry paw fists in your hair and the other clamps over your mouth as he rails into you. thankfully the costume quiets and obscene slapping of flesh, yet the vulgar squelch of your pussy is only drowned out by the kids yelling as they play in the yard.
bullying himself deeper, your pussy is squeezing him so tight he's seeing stars.
...well fuck. does your freaky ass actually get off on getting fucked in this damned thing?
"this what you wanted, huh?" sukuna pants against your ear, fucking you harder, deeper, the fat head of his roughly bullying your cervix with every stroke.
"the audacity" he laughs against your ear, mean and half-deranged. "you got some nerve, you know that? make me dress like a fucking clown and then walk out there in that? bending over where anyone could see what's mine?"
sukuna suddenly snaps his hips hard enough to make you cry out, slobbering profusely from both lips. "nah, you wanted this. wanted the easter bunny to stuff your greedy little hole. c'mon cum my slutty lil bunny."
"mmmph!"
oh and you do cum embarrassingly fast, your sobs muffled into his furry palm, drooling all over it, clenching around him so hard he nearly busts right there.
but sukuna doesn't pull out.
he fucks you through it while the breakfast you were making burns on the stove.
sukuna doesn't give 2 halves of a shit either—you'll all go out somewhere for breakfast on his dime—after he has his fill. you're pussy is his favorite way for him to start his day and he's gone too long this morning without it.
finally releasing in you, sukuna pumps you full until his cum is leaking down your trembling thighs and into your kitten heels, until your legs shake so bad you're barely standing, only the counter holding you up.
he stays hunched over you, heavy breathing filling the space, as you both catch your breath. then sukuna pulls out slowly, enjoying the sight of his load overflowing from your pretty lil pussy and pooling in the gusset of your ruined panties.
"happy fucking easter." the words are a growl against your ear, his stubble scraping your skin. tuggings your panties up over the mess, sukuna pats your swollen pussy with a satisfied hum.
"keep these on for me. my kids are on their own little scavenger hunt now—let's see if they find that egg before the day's out."
♡ happy easter! this fic literally spawned outta nowhere and i had to write it down. sorry for any errors, i wrote this one fast and my dyslexic ass likely didn't catch everything.
𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼? then please 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 or 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠! you can also join my gen. 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 or contribute to the 𝐛𝐢𝐦𝐛𝐨$𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐝.
♡ synopsis: when robby goes on sabbatical, he asks you to watch his house for him. you agree & spend the next two months looking after the space while he's away on his road trip. it's only when he returns & completely latches onto you that you become aware of the feelings he's been harboring for apparent years & find yourself reluctant to tell him no in anything—to the point of lying to protect his feelings—because he's become so unstable.
♡ content: angst, power imbalance, implied age-gap, jealousy (on robby's end), possessiveness, codependency, depression, ideation, emotional coercion, p in v sex, creampie, fingering, nipple play, he has a mommy kink if you squint, robby is a trainwreck & reader is standing on the damn tracks
♡ a/n: inspired by this amazing fic!
"I'll see you next week," Noelle replies with feigned sarcasm, which somehow irks Robby—her presuming to know precisely how he works; that he's that simple and predictable.
She's not the only one tonight, and that's what truly gets under his skin which used to be far thicker.
His eyes flit over the top of her head, and he just catches the sight of the back of yours retreating to the ambulance bay when he does. Forcing a tight-lipped smile, he brushes past her with a quiet, distracted 's'cuse me' before following along in your direction.
Carefully trailing his eyes along the gentle curve of your jaw, the generous swell of your breasts, the soft skin of your dainty hands, and long lashes that brush your cheeks each time you blink, Robby endeavors to commit your every facet to memory. He nearly winces at the thought of never setting eyes on you again, but if he considers that prospect too deeply, he'll never let go.
"Hey," he says quietly while taking a few measured steps forward.
Glancing up from your illuminated phone, you smile warmly before turning to face him. "Hey."
Robby sinks his trembling hands into his pockets. "There's, uh," he glances down to his scuffed boots and gently shrugs. "Something I was wanting to talk to you about."
When his exhausted eyes return to yours, you swiftly lock your phone and tuck it away to grant him your undivided attention.
Is he about to lay into you now as well?
Oh boy...
"I'm all ears," you assure softly. Cautiously.
"While I'm gone, I'd like to have someone housesit for me," he explains. "Just to keep an eye on things. Bring in the mail, make sure nothing stops running in my absence or shorts out. I was hoping maybe that could be you."
At least he isn't ripping into you the way he has so many others tonight. Such as Dana, Abbot, and poor Samira. You caught him glaring at Frank on more than once occasion as well, and on the poor man's first day back, no less.
You still have yet to learn the full story there of what exactly happened ten months ago which sent him on a long vacation from the ED, but maybe it's best you not know; it's none of your concern. He's back to treating patients, and that's what matters.
"Oh," you say in quiet surprise. "Are... Are you sure you wouldn't rather it be Abbot or Noelle?"
His brows furrow and he steps closer. "Noelle?" Robby asks with a slightly quirked head.
"I just thought that the two of you..." Situationship sounds inappropriate, so it's best you not use that adjective, probably. "Seem to have something—"
"Noelle and I are not together," he deadpans. "She's not the one I—" he huffs, shakes his head tiredly while gazing across the empty lot while running a nervous hand down the back of his neck, then returns his attentions to you. "There's nothing there."
You wonder if she knows that.
You'd hoped it would work out for him, in truth—that they'd make a charming couple who'd understand one another's struggles here at work. But wishes hardly ever come true, it seems.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make assumptions," you state with regret.
Robby shakes his head dismissively to intimate that it's alright; no harm done. "It's fine." Contemplating the color of your lips, he continues. "I'd just feel better knowing you're there looking after things for me. It'd help you save on rent for a few months. And if I don't come back, you've got yourself a brand new home."
Your brows knit together. "If you don't come back?" you question with worry.
He purses his lips and shrugs yet again. "Never know. Trying to keep my plans open." Rocking back on his heels, he studies the asphalt beneath his shoes, then steadies while looking at you once again from beneath his lashes. "So, we got a deal?"
He's due to leave very soon. So there's little opportunity for him to make other arrangements if you decline. It's not great that he waited until the literal last minute to begin with, because it indicates—at least to you—that he's not thinking clearly.
You want to ask him to wait until the morning before he takes off—go home, take a shower, make sure you're indeed who he wants to fill this responsibility, and tend to any other loose ends he's yet to tie up before taking such a prolonged sabbatical—but know such pleas would ultimately fall upon deaf ears.
You nod. "We do. It's no problem."
He sighs, and his shoulders loosen when the anxiety of a potential rejection alleviates. "You can follow me over there after our shift ends. I'll give you a tour, list a few rules, and..." his head bobs in an indifferent nod. "We'll talk then."
You rub nervously at your arm. "Alright."
Following along behind Robby's Bonneville, as the miles pass between work and home, a feeling of unexpected dread settles into the pit of your belly.
You know Abbot talked to him shortly before dayshift finally came to a close, and from what you could see from afar, he managed to finally chip past his stony exterior, but it obviously wasn't enough.
You want to make a genuine attempt at getting through to him yourself, but you honestly have no idea what to say to do so. What can you tell him that will convince him to stay his hand, even just a bit longer, which Jack—someone he's known far longer, and is much closer to—hasn't already?
You wouldn't be so worried if he didn't seem like such an utter wreck today. He doesn't even look well. His face is pale, his cheeks appear hollow in just the right light, and his eyes are so...dark and empty.
It scares you.
As you pull up next to Robby's motorcycle, you switch off the engine to your vehicle and watch as he knocks the kickstand of his ride into place before swinging a leg over the side of the stupid deathtrap before waving for you to follow him to the door of his condominium.
You'd assumed that he was a homeowner. Perhaps he still is, though, even if it's a condo that he's residing in. You're not sure how it works, exactly. Not your living situation, though, so you suppose it ultimately doesn't matter.
Popping open the driver's side door, you maneuver yourself out of the vehicle.
You're quiet as Robby leads you from room to room in his spacious abode while he shows you how to work the dishwasher, washing machine, dryer, and even the shower.
You simply nod along because you know that you'll most likely be coming by every other day at best for a handful of minutes to do a quick walkthrough before heading back to yours and Samira's shared apartment. The thought of spending enough time here to require use of a washing machine is unimaginable.
You still fail to understand why you're the chosen person for the job, but nevertheless feel flattered that he hand-picked you for it.
You humor yourself with the thought that it's because you're so very reliable and organized. Robby has always had a bit of a soft-spot for you—favoritism which seemed to increase in fervor as time went on—but you assume it's only because he sees your promising potential as a healthcare provider.
Once he's led you back toward the foyer where the front door lies, he shoves his hands into his pockets and you bristle as he lets his eyes roam freely across you.
"I'll come by at least every other day and bring your mail in for you. And I'll do a walkthrough of the—"
Robby frows and your words drift into silence.
"I want you here," he states softly, but with conviction. "It'll give me peace of mind. So just...live here while I'm away. Since I never set up any of the other rooms for guests, just sleep in my bed," he remarks while nodding behind you, toward the direction where the bedroom lies.
"Wear my clothes if you want, if...if they're more comfortable to for you to lounge around in," Robby mutters with a shrug. "Make yourself at home. Eat what's in the fridge, and contact the building manager if anything needs fixed. As for bills, everything comes out of my checking account automatically. The mortgage, electricity, sewage, trash disposal, water, wi-fi and cable... It's all taken care of."
Samira won't be happy about losing her roommate, but you'll still see each other at work. And you can always come over to visit.
You wonder if he would mind if she did the same here.
Sleeping on the same mattress as him is a surreal thought, but you've never owned a king-size bed before. Might be nice to be able to roll this way and that without fear of falling onto the floor. You'd rather not think of other things he's done in it, though, with... Well, others. Feels wrong to imagine him that way.
So you choose not to.
"Rules?" you ask, since he mentioned such a thing previously.
"No parties, pets, kids... Other men—"
You shake your head. "No worries there, about any of it. It's your home and I fully intend to respect the space you're letting me stay in temporarily."
Robby purses his lips and contemplates for a moment to ensure he's left no stone unturned before he steps out. "Do you have any questions for me?"
You think. "What if something breaks? I can contact the building manager, and I assume they'll have a repairman come, but what if they tell me it needs replaced entirely? Like...the fridge or dryer? Unlikely, I know, but—"
Robby reaches around to his back pocket and unfolds a leather wallet. "Here, take this," he says while holding out a credit card between his index and middle finger. "It's not one I ever use anymore, but if something like that happens, just charge it to it. I'll keep an eye on the account and pay off anything that pops up."
You shuffle forward and slip the thin plastic card from his grasp. "I doubt I'll need it, but I'll put it in my wallet for safekeeping just incase."
"If you need it for gas or groceries, that's fine, too."
You shake your head. "No, Robby, I can—"
"It's the least I can do," he interrupts while glancing to the right, toward a curtained window. "Since you're doing me a favor by keeping an eye on things. It'll give me peace of mind while I'm on the road: knowing you're here, living in my home; sleeping in my bed."
He seems oddly adamant about the last part...
You should analyze that, as well as him telling you to wear his clothes. Perhaps he's just trying to be a good host by ensuring you feel comfortable here, and not like you have to be conscious of so much as moving a dishtowel or salt shaker out of place?
You choose to go with that theory.
"Okay." You'll only use it to restock anything of his that you run out of and need to replenish. Wouldn't feel right to use it for something as simple as a few gallons of gas, which you can afford.
"Make sure to enjoy yourself," Robby murmurs with a forced smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, but does make his crow's feet wrinkle.
"You too," you whisper. "Drive safe, wear your helmet, and pull into a motel or hotel if you start to get tired. Get plenty of rest. And eat—I'm sure there's lots of good diners and food trucks along the way," you say with a soft, reassuring grin. "If you need anything, call Abbot. Or...me. I'll do what I can," you finish with a nod.
You're not sure what exactly, but you figure that you'll cross that bridge if and when you come to it.
Robby's eyes flit between your own, and your heart squeezes with the thought that he's maybe changed his mind. Taking time off from the ED is essential right now, but an almost four thousand mile round trip certainly isn't, in your opinion.
Maybe he can—
Robby advances forward while his footsteps sound across hardwood floors, then suddenly cups the back of your head and presses his lips firmly to your forehead while pulling the rest of you flush against himself.
His grip is iron-tight, and you register the soft swell of his belly that melds against your abdomen, his palm that's splayed across your back, his other which twitches against the base of your skull, and his wiry beard that softly scratches against your skin.
You slide your own arms around his middle after a beat, and gradually tighten your hold after a handful of seconds so the embrace isn't quite so one-sided.
In the ED, Robby's touched you an innumerable amount of times—your shoulders, back, hands, even your cheek once or twice—but you've not deigned to think too much on it, because you always assumed it was just his way of bestowing silent reassurance or praise in way of encouragement.
You're sure that's all it ever was, and that this is just...thanks.
You don't see it, but he squeezes his eyes shut to battle away stinging tears before suddenly releasing you and turning on his heel. "Take care of yourself," he mutters before grabbing his bag and swinging the front door open.
"Y-You too," you squeak before he shuts it behind him.
A moment later, his motorcycle revs to life outside and its headlight casts itself across the living room walls before disappearing entirely.
You don't move until the sound of its purring engine has morphed into silence.
You swallow thickly and shift on your feet while sniffling.
You've never thought of Robby as anything more than a mentor, so you find yourself at a loss when you try to explain the hollow feeling in your chest that his absence has left behind.
"I'm sort of glad he's gone," Samira mumbles from where she's sitting cross-legged on your bed. "Is that bad of me?" she asks while glancing up to where you stand plucking various clothing items from your closet.
"No," you reply while folding and tossing them into your bag. "Of course not. I know he'd been riding you for awhile, and there's no excuse for it. But..." you sigh.
"If you can, try not to take it personally. It was just him lashing out, I think. Samira, you're one of the best doctors I know—not to mention people. Calling you slow? What? Because you bother taking your time, actually listen to your patients, and are diligent in your diagnoses and treatment—unlike most, who've otherwise sold themselves for and to corporate greed, whether they're aware of it or not, by double-booking or rushing through patients? Not that you plan to go into it, but if you were a PCP, I'd want you as mine. And I'm not just saying that because we're best friends and live together."
She's practically beaming by the end of your heartfelt speech.
"Don't take the crap he's said to you to heart. Collins believed in you, Al-Hashimi does, too, as well as Abbot it seems, and so do I. Robby needs to sort out his own issues before he starts harping on anyone else's."
She flops back onto your bed. "What did he say to you exactly before taking off?" she inquires while rolling her head in your direction. "Just curious, since you were the last one to see him."
You shrug. "Not much. Showed me around, laid some ground rules, told me what to do if I had any issues..." You chew your lip for a moment. "He... He told me to make myself at home, obviously, and it's not like there's another one there for me to occupy... He told me more than once: sleep in my bed. Even mentioned something about wearing his clothes so I could be comfortable."
She bolts upright. "I'm sorry, what?"
You consider a thin sweater, then shake your head. It's hot as hell out right now, so you don't imagine you'll be needing it anytime soon. "He might've given me a credit card, too. But only for emergencies. Like if the washer breaks and can't be repaired and a new one has to be delivered instead. That sort of thing."
She bobs her head from side to side in understanding. "I guess I can get that. But... Wearing his clothes?" she asks incredulously.
You opt not to mention the part about him telling you to also use it for gas and groceries. The latter is sort of understandable, but the former not so much, at least in your opinion.
He's just not himself right now, right? Makes sense that on top of acting out of sorts, he's also saying some off-the-wall stuff.
You ball up a ratty old t-shirt and stuff it in your luggage bag. "I won't be."
"It's the fact he said that to begin with," she presses while scooting closer. "It's inappropriate."
You snort. "And me staying in his house isn't?" You raise a brow while refolding a pair of jeans. "Still don't understand why he didn't ask Jack or Noelle instead. Because even if she and him aren't in an established relationship, they had something going on between them. You'd think he'd be begging her to take up space in his home and bed and clothes instead."
"Oh my God," Samira whispers, like realization of something shocking has just overcome her.
"What?" you asked with a raised brow.
Her brown eyes flit to yours. "How do you... You don't even see it, do you?"
You blink absentmindedly. "No, but I assume you're about to tell me whatever it is that I'm apparently blind to."
"He's in love with you," she expresses doubtlessly.
Unable to help yourself, you bark a laugh. "You can't be serious right now. I'm a resident. And he's—"
"Telling you to make yourself at home, giving you his credit card, telling you to bathe in his shower, eat his food, lie in his bed, put on his clothes," she counts off across two hands. "I always sort of questioned all the extra attention he gave you at work, but I guess I get it now."
You shift uncertainly on your feet. "He's just...being a good host."
"But he's not really hosting you if he isn't there, is he?"
Turning your back to her to begin emptying your underthings from your dresser, you shake your head. "I'm sure he'll rekindle things with Noelle once he gets back. It's not like that."
She shakes her head. "Never took you for the clueless type."
You sigh while tucking a bra away into a mesh pocket. "We should've all taken bets on what he'll get up to while away. I say that wherever he's headed, it's to see someone that he's perhaps fallen for."
Or to check out a new job opportunity...
You start in on socks next.
After only two weeks on the road, Robby already feels beat. Then again, he did before he ever planted two wheels upon it.
Lying in a strange motel room in a strange town far from home, he's unable to control the tempest of thoughts that rage in his tired head in the unwelcome silence that encapsulates him. All the patients that died beneath his hands, all the people he loved whom he failed, all the students he should've done better by.
It all started with the first who failed him, he thinks. The catalyst for why his life has fallen apart, or never had a proper chance to become what it should've to begin with.
But he can't think on that right now or he'll...
As always, his thoughts instead drift toward another.
One who's currently warming his bed that he's at least a thousand miles from at present. She's all feminine curves, sweet smiles, and warmth in every spoken word.
It's easier to lose himself in delusional daydreams with her instead of facing the harsh, ugly reality that's collapsing all around him.
It's become prevalent, this habit: when he's driving, eating, taking a piss, even when he's supposed to be sleeping, his mind instead chooses to paint a false picture that's becoming increasingly harder to pull himself out of day-by-day, like quicksand.
He's losing hours to it, but it's so much more soothing than addressing his own self-made problems.
He worries that if he ever finds the strength to go home, that he'll struggle with being able to tell the difference between what's real and what he's willingly imagined as he trails across the Badlands.
If he'd done things differently—been braver and spoken up—perhaps he'd be there with her now. Lying beside her, holding her close to keep her safe and warm while she dreams peacefully in his arms and against his chest... But his time has come and gone for such fanciful romances. He's too old, broken down, and hollowed out now.
He'd be no good for someone like her.
It's why he settles for fantasy instead. It's the closest he'll ever come to actually having her the way he means to.
The reveries can vary. He's become quite adept at storytelling, in truth. In some, he's beside her in the ED, coaching her through every move, every incision, every decision, and the patient never dies. Others—his favored ones—she's at home with him. She greets him at the door with an adoring smile and an affectionate kiss before pulling him inside so that they can have dinner while she listens about his day. Sometimes she works in it, others, she's a quaint housewife with a swollen belly who lives for her husband, and he for her.
And then there are the darker ones where he's buried inside of her—right between her legs—and he loses himself to the feeling of her soft, trembling body lying beneath his own, where she clutches at his chest and arms while whimpering wantonly against his lips. He always finishes inside of her, and she promises him a baby in return.
He's projected so many idealized archetypes and scenarios onto her that when the time finally came to reluctantly say goodbye, he'd been a bit taken aback when she didn't beg him to stay while throwing herself at him with reckless abandon.
She was supposed to react differently. Not bring up another woman that he only half considers an ex. Robby made things clear to Noelle at the beginning that whatever they were doing would be casual—no strings attached or grand expectations had.
She would find no commitment on his end, because he knew that he wanted another, and as long as his heart was held in her unwitting hands, he couldn't give anyone else 100% of himself. So, after almost a couple months, when Noelle started dropping hints that she was desiring more, he broke it off entirely.
Live in my home, sleep in my bed. Why couldn't he have just told her what he really meant?
I love you, I love you, I love you and you alone.
Pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, he groans in frustration. Did she really have no idea? Why didn't she question further as to why she was his chosen candidate for house sitting? If she had, though, would he have told her?
He's not sure.
He truly is a fool.
Can't have the fairytale—kids and all—if you can't even achieve an erection anymore. Happened once or twice with Noelle, actually.
He preferred to keep his eyes shut during at times because it made imagining easier, but the truth was always right there beneath his hands.
He knows it hurt her feelings; that she blamed herself when he failed to properly perform. Bless her, she even tried to help him, but it somehow made it all the worse instead. Just gave him one more reason to cut it off clean. If you can't please a woman, what's the point?
Rolling onto his side, he tries to sleep.
"Have you heard from him?"
Tucking your stethoscope into your bag, you shake your head and click your locker shut. "I haven't. I'm sorry, Jack. Guessing it's the same for you?"
He shrugs and shakes his head. "I check the fuckin' thing about a dozen times a day, always expecting something. Think after over a half a month I'd get the hint that he doesn't want to reach out or be reached out to, but I clearly haven't."
You slide your backpack onto your shoulders. "You're a worried friend. Nothing wrong with that."
He doesn't tell you about how he keeps Googling 'Buffalo Jump Albany deaths'.
He should've done more to keep Robby in Pittsburgh.
Wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you into a tight hug and gives you a firm squeeze. "Let me know if you do."
You nod. "I will."
It takes about two and a half weeks before you even think to snoop around a bit. Between work, errands, taking care of Robby's space by regularly cleaning and tidying up after yourself, and trying to tend to your own health, the thought of rifling through his sock drawer just didn't register.
After fixing yourself a stir-fry dinner with a small glass of red wine, you had sat on the couch for awhile watching Netflix before you finally got bored with some poorly scripted period drama and switched the TV off in favor of exploring.
You begin where many do: the medicine cabinet. Your hand hovers over the small silver knob which will reveal to you some of Robby's medicinal secrets, and frown slightly. You'd dislike if someone did such a thing to you, but... What he doesn't know also won't hurt him. Just might cause you to see him in a bit of a different light is all.
Pulling the small door with a gleaming mirrored front open, you trail your eyes over mostly predictable finds: shaving cream, a razor, as well as clippers, an assorted box of Band-Aids, triple antibiotic, ibuprofen, a glass bottle of half-empty cologne with a gold cap, wet wipes, and a couple prescriptions are amongst the items within.
Plucking the first orange bottle from the middle shelf, you turn it over to study the label. Buspar 10 MG. You slide the pad of your thumb over his printed name, Michael Robinavitch, and your brows knit together in sympathy.
"Oh, Robby," you whisper before returning it to its rightful place. A pretty basic medication for anxiety, yes, but it nevertheless tugs at your heart to see. Especially since it's here, and not with him like it should instead be.
Grabbing the next one, blood immediately rushes to your cheeks and you nearly toss it back inside with a quiet squeal. Viagra.
Slamming the door back closed, you thoroughly wash your hands, then exit the bathroom and head for the bedroom instead.
Flipping through the clothing that hangs in Robby's closet, you find yourself underwhelmed. Scrubs, scrubs, and more scrubs. Along with a couple three-piece suits which you deign he must look rather sharp in. At the back, though, is a collection of t-shirts. Half of which are just basic, solid colors—black, blue, forest green, grey—but there's also surprisingly some graphic tees, too. You grin as you swipe your fingers over a decal of Led Zeppelin's untitled album. The 4th one which included Stairway to Heaven.
Nearly pulling it from the hanger, you bunch the hem up beneath your nose and inhale, but are met only with hints of detergent instead of him.
You click the door back shut and pad over to the chest of drawers that stands across from the foot of the bed—which doubles as an entertainment center, since he has a small flatscreen on top—and you grip a wooden picture frame and slide it toward you.
Inside is a photo that was taken approximately a year ago in the ED around Christmas. No one is dressed up for it, but you remember that afternoon and how a fresh box of cookies from a local bakery was delivered—their tops complete with designs of Santa, Rudolph, Christmas trees, and snowflakes.
You'd rolled your eyes, then looked at Robby and muttered how you were sorry that there wasn't one with a menorah on it. He'd stared at you, and the look was so intense that your mind short-circuited for a moment as you actually doubted whether you remembered his heritage correctly. He was Jewish, right?
And then he kissed your forehead before biting through a Christmas tree and saying sarcastically that he hoped he wasn't being sacrilegious somehow.
You'd not entirely understood the joke, but laughed anyway.
Studying the photo, you examine all the familiar faces included. Dana, McKay, Langdon, Trinity, Mel, Samira, and many more. But only now do you notice that only one wasn't smiling at the camera lens, but instead was gazing at you with a toothy grin.
Robby.
Pulled flush against his side you'd been, and his hand was wrapped around the crown of your shoulder to keep you close.
Was Samira right after all?
Letting go of the frame, you plop down on the bed and begin to think.
You've known him for a long time now, as you've been at PTMC since you were but a med student. You'd initially tried to get yourself on night shift after your first couple weeks there so that you could have your days to accomplish everything else you were overwhelmed with, but Robby was insistent that you stick with him and that he'd 'see you through thick and thin'. So you did, and to be fair, he hasn't steered you wrong.
His teachings have been invaluable, which you're thankful for, but now you wonder when the relationship shifted from mentor and mentee to something more affectionate—at least on his end.
You want to tell yourself that you're reading too much into it, but all you have to do is look around to know that that's a lie.
With a sigh, you slide over to the head of the bed and pull the top drawer of his nightstand open. A Roku remote greets you, as well as an issue of The New England Journal of Medicine, a small flashlight, and an open box of Trojan condoms.
Size?
Large.
You shove it back closed and stare ahead at the open doorway.
Before tonight, you never imagined him that way: naked and sweaty and writhing on top of a woman.
Now, you can't stop.
With a huff, you begin readying yourself for bed.
It's been an hour and rest still has yet to find you. Counting sheep is fruitless, as is mentally singing yourself old childhood lullabies.
It's because you can't stop the racing thoughts now that you've been bombarded by silence. Thoughts...of just how lonely you truly are. Living with Samira, it was easy to ignore. At work, there was no time to think of anything but the medicine, and at home, you had a friend to always talk to and share things with. But here, in a house too big for just one person to occupy, you're left to take stock of how outside of your roommate, you really don't have anyone else.
So you ponder whether Robby's feelings are returned.
An attraction you've always had towards him, sure, but something even bordering on love? He's...him. Doctor Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch. Chief of the ED at PTMC and a whole lot of man, to boot. He's worldly and wise and steady and capable.
Meanwhile, you're more like a wobbly newborn chick fresh out the egg that has no idea how to even walk some days, let alone carry on with a damn rooster.
Ok, so the analogy is getting a little weird.
Point being that he's lived a life, whereas yours has yet to even form its first greatest hit.
Turning onto your side, you slide your hand across a half empty mattress and fantasize about it being occupied, and what such a thing might entail. What has he considered, you wonder? Shared meals, movie nights on the sofa, and sex right where you lay? Bills and correspondences with both your names printed on the envelope? Matching his and hers coffee mugs hanging from Command hooks in the kitchen?
Just when you think to close your eyes again, your phone lights up, so you grab it from atop the nightstand and check what's just come through.
You sigh with relief when you see that it's the very man occupying your current deliberations.
Everything going ok?
"Thank God," you whisper while making a mental note to text Abbot that Robby has reached out.
It is! Been taking care of the house. I've sorted your mail, too, by the way. Junk mail is set aside incase something piques your interest.
You debated whether to toss fliers for cheaper internet and brochures for a new car wash that just opened up down the street, but figured that was his decision to ultimately make. Perhaps you'll use a Pizza Hut coupon one of these nights.
Thanks.
You raise a brow and begin rethinking everything you were only just ruminating over. Like imagined fondness. Short, straight, and to the—
I meant with you.
Talk about whiplash.
I'm doing okay. Thinking about adopting a cactus. Figured you could use the company once you get back.
Not really a lie, since the lack of any other living thing here sort of depressed you to see after first moving in, so to speak. Not having pets you get for numerous reasons, but even just an air plant could be nice.
Had one before. Overwatered and killed it, but thanks.
How the hell do you overwater a cactus? Something that literally thrives in the desert. Too much of a good thing, you suppose.
Air plant, then.
typing...
Work going alright for you with me gone?
No more talk of flora, apparently.
It is. You're still very missed, though.
typing...
Miss you, too.
Your heart somersaults in your chest. What do you say now?
Thanks? Come back soon? Want a selfie of me in your bed so your replies might become a bit more lively?
Your fingers hover above the keyboard, but before you get a chance to attempt a reply, another message comes buzzing through.
Going to sleep. Talk later.
You reply with a simple Goodnight before doing the same.
It's too fucking ridiculous to ever admit, but the sign for him to finally turn back came in the form of a country song playing on an overhead speaker in a small roadside diner. He forgets the name of the artist, but he sang of being on the road more than home, and how leaving the woman he loved all alone was killing him. How only if he returned could he feel, see, touch, and kiss her anytime he wished. Could place hands upon her bare skin as they slept together.
Robby paid his tab and turned his ass back in the other direction without a second thought.
With him being so far gone, it taking an almost thirty-year-old tune to change his mind about whatever the hell he was doing tracked.
So, here he stands, leaning against the doorway of his bedroom sipping on a cold bottle of Budweiser he found in the fridge while watching you sleep.
A small twinge of disappointment had settled in his chest when he trailed his eyes along one of your bare arms that's thrown across a pillow when he caught sight of the thin strap on your shoulder. Certainly not something of his.
You never bothered using the credit card, either, turns out. Not even for a quick snack at work.
He dislikes the fact.
You stir, then promptly calm and return to breathing evenly.
With a sigh, he turns and heads for the bathroom to take a quick shower.
At least you're in his bed.
Small blessings.
You're groggy and initially unsure of what you think you just felt.
When you slide a hand over to the left side of the bed and your palm meets with that of a soft belly smattered with hair, you jerk your head and hand both back and open your mouth to scream, until Robby swiftly cups your cheek in his hand. "It's me. You're safe. It's just me."
You bury your face in a pillow and groan. "You scared the daylights out of me," you mumble sleepily.
He runs a comforting hand along the curve of your spine. "Sorry. I was trying not to wake you."
This feels natural to him: the two of you in bed in the middle of the night with only a simple exchange of words between you. Like it's habit, almost. Being near you has always came as easy as breathing to him, though.
Just something about your nature.
Resting your cheek back atop the pillow, you gaze at him from beneath drooping lids. "You're back early," you whisper.
He considers for a moment, then slips his hand beneath the hem of the thin camisole you wear and he begins massaging your naked skin.
Something a husband would do for a wife.
"I am."
"Everything go okay?" you ask with a yawn. "Did you make it to the site in Albany?"
He shouldn't really be touching you like this, but his callouses gently scratching against your soft skin feels kind of nice. And you're too tired to tell him to stop.
It's sort of soothing.
Robby nods.
"Everything you hoped it would be?"
He shrugs. "Just a cliff."
You're grateful he chose not to drive off of it. Means he found a reason after all.
"I picked you up a few things," he murmurs. "They're in my bag. I'll give them to you in the morning."
You smile lazily—a sight which causes his cock to twitch unexpectedly. Then again, he was already sporting a semi in the shower due to standing there naked while holding a pink bottle of soap that belonged to you in his hand.
"Is it a keychain or magnet?" you ask with a soft giggle.
He shakes his head and his lip barely twitches into a smile in response. "No. I think more of you than cheap, tacky gifts."
You're certainly intrigued now.
Removing his hand from beneath your top, he cups the back of your head and tenderly strokes the side of your scalp with the pad of his thumb. "Did you miss me?"
You nod. "We all did. Just glad you're back in one piece."
His eyes flit to where the comforter has been pushed down to your hips. "But did you?" he presses.
Your brows merge together. "Of course."
His darkened eyes roam upwards again and settle on your face.
Robby leans in toward you while his large, calloused hand ghosts across your waist before gently gripping your hip and tugging you against his chest.
When his lips meet with yours, his eyes flutter closed and yours widen.
It's almost comical that this moment finally confirms for you that he does indeed have feelings. You would think someone with a degree in medicine would be a bit more perceptive, but apparently not.
When he runs the speared tip of his tongue along your bottom lip, you gently pry your lips apart to grant him entry to your mouth. With patience, Robby savors this first kiss he's desired for so long. His tongue greets your own with quiet passion—first sliding along the slick underside before twisting to meld it against your own.
Lifting his right leg, he plants it over your opposite side, then rolls himself atop you.
With Robby's full weight settled across your body, and his forearms bracketed on either side of your head, it leaves you securely covered in him. Raising an uncertain hand, you cup his cheek and curl your fingertips against his unkempt beard while your other toys with the gold chain that hangs around his neck—its charm of the Star of David resting between your breasts.
It almost feels like something this monumental should've been proceeded by a lengthy conversation first—just out of respect for the weight of this moment—but now isn't the time for talking.
Slipping a hand beneath your top, Robby eases the material past your belly and breasts, and ultimately over your head before he balls it up and tosses it across the room to rid himself of any hindrances toward having you entirely.
Dipping his head, he sucks a nipple into his mouth and groans.
Your back arches off the bed, and Robby plants a palm against the curve of it to keep you impossibly close while switching sides. Dragging the pad of his tongue over your pebbled nipple, he laps at the smooth skin which surrounds it before dragging it between his teeth.
"God, Robby," you sigh while carding your fingers in his tousled brown hair.
"Michael," he mutters with a lift of his head. "Call me Michael when we're like this."
Nibbling his way toward your throat, his hand crests its way past the waist of your panties and he swipes a finger through your slick folds, followed by a rasped 'fuck' uttered from his lips. Shoving off of you, he rests back on his haunches and hooks his fingers under their waistband and tugs. "Lift your hips, sweetheart," he instructs.
You do.
Once you're lain wholly bare before him, you watch as his eyes trail over your every feature and asset with lustful abandon.
"I've wanted this for years," he whispers while kneading your breasts in his hands. "You don't know how long I've waited for you."
Caressing your cheek, Robby grips the side of his briefs and pulls the elastic band below his hip. "Do you want me inside of you?"
Your head is absolutely spinning, and as you survey the generous swell of his belly that now hangs over the waistband of his underwear, you swallow thickly and nod.
A gesture he returns before pushing them down to his knees and removing them.
With his cock only semi-erect, he fists it in his hand while pressing the index and middle fingers of his other against your dripping entrance. Easing them both inside, your knees fall apart in quiet welcome.
Robby doesn't want to bother with a little blue pill tonight. No performance enhancers. Not with you.
Slowly easing his digits between your fluttering walls, he swipes his thumb over your clit and you gasp in response.
He eyes his bedside table fleetingly, but decides against it.
Unless you ask him to use protection, he won't offer. Bare is the way he's always wished for it to be between you.
"Did you ever touch yourself?" he asks. "Here?"
Your eyes slowly open and you grip the pillow beneath your head in either of your hands. "I did."
It had felt wrong with it being his place of rest, but you figured there would be no way for him to know in the end, so it was fine.
He lines himself up against your cunt and swipes the weeping tip of his cock against it, leaving it shimmering and wet from your arousal. "Did you think of me?"
Yes and no.
You found it invigorating that it was Robby's bed you were lying upon and playing with yourself in, but you didn't imagine anything particular while doing so. You just enjoyed the sounds of your own breathy moans and whimpers to get you to your finish.
"Yes."
His cheek twitches and he eases inside of you inch by inch. Slow is his descent as he allows you to adjust to his size. Your walls stretch to accommodate his girth, and he mutters quiet, affectionate praises all the while of how well you're taking him; that he's almost there.
Once he's bottomed out, Robby leans forward and rests his right forearm next to your head while his opposite hand grips your chin, tilts your head to the left, and he plants featherlight kisses along your jawline. "That feel good, sweetheart?" he rumbles while rocking his hips against yours.
You draw in a ragged breath. "Y-yes," you stutter while running your hands up his warm back.
"It's only ever been you," he rasps while running the tip of his nose along your pounding carotid. "You're why I came back."
Turning your face toward him, he grants many slow, open-mouthed kisses which break the silence of night. "Couldn't stand the thought of you here alone," Robby whispers before kissing your cheek.
He draws out his cock until only the tip remains, then eases back in. But gently, for your sake.
You shudder beneath him. "Glad you're home," you whimper.
As is he, because look at what he had waiting.
Perfection.
His forever, if you let yourself be.
He tilts his head back to watch you for awhile as he makes love to your body. Your every mannerism endears him to you even more—something he hadn't thought possible. The way a tiny crease forms between your brows every time his cock fills you, your parted lips which tiny puffs of breath escape from, quiet whines that get caught in your throat, and the way he's so completely surrounded you.
Rolling his hips, you tremulate and sink your nails into his shoulder blades. "Oh, Michael," you mewl against his pec.
His cock quivers inside of you and his breath shudders in his chest.
Robby runs a palm under your thigh and lifts it over his hip. "Tell me," he rustles against your ear. "You're mine."
You're so, so close. Just a little more.
"I am," you sigh.
"Please," he pleads with a wet kiss before twining his fingers between your own and sliding your conjoined hands across smooth white sheets.
You lift your hips and they buck when the coarse patch of hair that rests above his cock brushes against your swollen clit. "I'm yours, Michael," you assure.
His eyes fill with tears, so he buries his face in the curve of your shoulder and groans from behind clenched teeth as his cock spasms between the intimate safety your slick walls provide him with. Spurts of semen coat—he presumes, or, rather, prays—fertile walls, as he empties a part of himself inside of you; all for you to have.
A broken sob breaks on his lips, so he clutches you close to him to try and calm his pattering heart.
Due to his cock spilling against your core, and the feeling of it still continuously twitching, you throw your head back and snap your hips upwards while biting your lower lip in a race toward your own orgasm.
Squeezing your ass cheek in his palm, Robby guides you toward where you want to go and reels back to watch as it happens.
Your lip is drawn between your teeth before you release it entirely in favor of your mouth quirking into a perfect 'O'. Your body gyrates beneath his as your warm walls pulsate around his softening member and you quake beneath his touch. Quiet "Oh, oh, oh My God"s vocalize as soft bursts of light paint themselves across your eyelids.
When you finally calm, Robby doesn't pull out, but instead remains lying on top of you as his cock softens and his cum dribbles out of your pussy and onto what were previously clean sheets.
The two of you stay like that for awhile: him planting kiss after kiss against your damp cheek and you lying still—apart from your right hand running soothingly up and down his left forearm, because the rest of you feels depleted, and like your limbs are now made of wobbly jelly.
When your lids begin to grow heavy and your heart starts to slow is when you blink yourself back awake. "I'm gonna use the bathroom," you whisper while manuevering a leg out from under him.
He grunts quietly in response. "Just come right back to me," Robby murmurs while squeezing your hand.
You nod with a tight-lipped smile before sliding off the bed and padding into the other room.
Once you've peed, squatted in the shower and washed yourself thoroughly between your legs, and panicked for just a moment as to how you could've been stupid enough to have unprotected sex—not to mention allowing him to finish inside of you—you exit the bathroom and watch as Robby throws back the covers for you to rejoin him.
Your mouth waters at the sight of him like this. Naked, his long legs extended toward the foot of the bed, his belly that's covered in dark hair lying against the mattress, and his strong chest which you were nuzzled against only moments ago.
Could he truly be all yours?
You hold up a towel and nod sheepishly toward the mattress. "Should probably put this down. Sheets are kinda...damp."
He scooches to the side and you fan it out across the middle where the two of you will lay, then climb back in beside him again.
Robby doesn't spare a moment before he pulls you flush against his abdomen and throws his limbs back over your own to make sure you don't go anywhere during the night.
Once your mind has calmed again and you're at the pleasant, humming in-between of waking and sleeping, you hear a muttered 'I love you' before drifting off.
When you wake, it's to an empty bed. Something you're actually rather grateful for, since it grants you a bit of time to catch your bearings before you start your day. Splaying your fingers across the mattress, you play and replay every moment from last night in your head.
It all happened so fast, didn't it? One minute, you were asleep, and the next, Robby's cock was buried inside of you without even an ultra-thin condom to keep you safe from any unwanted consequences his semen may bring about.
You should run out and pick up a box of Plan B today.
Last night he'd seemed... Not himself. Somehow worse than when he left. More emotional, maybe? Or detached? Then again, he was utterly exhausted, you're sure. Which is why you're the least bit surprised that he's already up.
You wonder when he'll return to work.
With a sigh, you rise and wince as your muscles strain. Ones you're not exactly used to utilizing were certainly given a bit of a workout not too many hours ago.
Perhaps you'll try and work on doing some squats and lunges today to loosen them up.
When you pad into the kitchen, you're greeted by the sight of Robby leaned back in a chair with a steaming mug of coffee sat before him and a newspaper spread open on the table.
He turns and smiles softly at the vision of you clad in an old Led Zeppelin t-shirt of his that falls to your knees. "Mornin'."
"Morning," you reply shyly.
"Looks good on you," he remarks. "You wear a lot of my stuff while I was gone?"
This makes a first, but you fear that he'd be disappointed to hear as much. "I did. I sort of favored this one," you lie while fingering the soft, cotton hem of it.
He nods. "That makes me happy to hear." He tilts his head back toward the counter behind him. "There's coffee."
You walk over to pour yourself a cup. "Thanks."
Once you've a mug in hand that's drowned in cream and sugar, you pull out a chair and sit to Robby's left while taking idle sips of your caffeinated drink.
Folding the paper back up, he rests an arm atop the table and his other in his lap. "How d'you feel?" he inquires with a slightly tilted head.
Crossing your legs at the ankles, you study him from beneath your lashes. "Good. A little sore," you say with a quiet laugh. "Just...muscles I'm not used to working."
"But a good kind of sore," he replies while searching your eyes with his own. "Right? Sort of," he shrugs, "Reminder of me."
You nod silently and take another sip after blowing on it to cool it down.
"So, should we go ahead and address the elephant in the room?" Robby asks warily.
Your eyes flit to him. "We can."
He scoots his chair closer to you—the legs quietly scraping against polished hardwood—and loosely hangs an arm off the table while folding his hands. "I thought it was perfect; everything I hoped it would be."
You wonder if he's thought about it a great deal.
"It felt like..." he purses his lips and glances away, toward the living room. "Something finally falling into place." Looking at you again, he listens earnestly. "Did you feel it, too?"
It'd felt wonderful, of course. Robby had taken his time in being slow and sensual so that he could savor every moment, thrust, and kiss, but you're not sure that you felt some magical awakening when he sank between your thighs.
It takes a handful seconds for Robby's features to gradually shift into that of unease and worry, though, so you swiftly reach forward and pry his hands apart so that you can squeeze his fingertips reassuringly. "I did feel it. I wasn't...sure if you did."
He exhales in relief and you feel a twinge of guilt for giving him false sentiments.
"It seemed right somehow: having you in my bed. Being inside of you." He leans back again and your muscles suddenly loosen. "It's why I returned a month early."
He shakes his head. "Thinking of you here all alone got to me." Shifting in his seat, he sucks on his teeth. "I didn't like it. But now that I'm back..." Robby reaches forward and cups your cheek. "You don't need to worry about leaving. I mean, you're half moved in already. So just stay here for awhile longer. And if things progress the way I hope they will, then it can become a permanent thing."
Your brows furrow and you open your mouth to question him, but your words fizzle into silence when he stands. "I'll go get your gifts."
A couple paper bags are set on the table before you, which you slowly rifle through. Truth is, you want to rip them open like an excited kid on Christmas Day, but are trying to be an adult about it.
Your first find is a plush stuffed buffalo with fluffy brown fur and glass eyes, which causes you to grin and giggle. "He's very handsome," you state before setting him to the side with an affectionate pat on the head.
Robby smiles softly and cups the back of your head which he gently kneads with his fingertips as you go through the rest of it. Next is a snow globe which you turn back to him for explanation over.
"It's the heritage site," Robby clarifies with a nod toward it.
"Oh," you chirp with surprise. You shake the glass bulb and watch as white flakes swirl around. "Now I get to see it in winter."
He presses a kiss to the crown of your head.
Next is a non-fiction book titled Ancient Alberta.
"Figured we could put it on the bookshelf in the living room," Robby states. "I wasn't sure if you much cared for history."
"I do," you reply in confirmation.
Lastly is a long black box that's not quite the length of your forearm. Prying is carefully open, you gasp at what lies inside: a beautiful necklace comprised of brilliant white and brown beads. "Oh, Robby, this is lovely," you murmur while tracing it with your fingertips.
"So you like all of it?" he inquires warily.
Rising from your chair, you wrap your arms around his neck and stand on tiptoes. "I do," you say with a kiss.
That night as you make dinner, you study Robby from afar. You've done a lot of that today: staring. More so because he somehow seems worse than when he left. His face is more gaunt, but at least he seems to have gotten some sun on the road, and now has a healthy golden tan going for him. His belly has receded just a little, but since he's asked you to continue staying here, you'll have him fattened back up in no time.
After all, when you cooked him breakfast, he cleaned every bite of syrupy pancake from his plate.
That made you happy to see.
He's not as chatty as he once was some time ago—his words are more measured and to the point now—but maybe he's just tired.
Lounged back on the far end of the sectional, Robby is currently thumbing through the book he purchased at the heritage site's gift shop. You admire the glasses perched upon his long nose and smirk. You feel quite domesticated today playing house with him.
You haven't done much digging into the things he said, however. Like about things 'falling into place', and his 'hopes for the future', or how you're fairly sure he uttered those three little words last night as you were just drifting off to sleep.
You care for Robby—deeply—but you don't know that it's love, exactly.
You're afraid that if he says it again, however, you'll return the sentiment because the last thing you want to do is make him unhappy. Not after all he's been through.
It's why you've tried to make the house a peaceful environment for him today. You took the liberty of changing the bed sheets and doing a couple loads of laundry, as well as unpacking his things for him. It kept you busy at least. Folding his underwear and hanging his belts back up in the closet had caused your cheeks to warm, but if you didn't, he probably wouldn't have himself.
It's a dreamlike experience being here while he is. Two months ago, Robby was an attending you conversed with and aided on the daily, but aside from the occasional embrace, things never went further.
Now...
"Dinner's ready," you chime from the table you've just set respective steaming plates of steak upon.
Dog-earing the current page he's reading through, Robby rises with palms planted against old knees to join you.
He's surprisingly cuddly.
You're learning much about him today, turns out.
"Oh, shit," you hiss before snatching your phone from the back of the couch.
"Somethin' wrong?" he questions from where his head currently lies between your breasts.
"I forgot to run out and pick up Plan B today," you explain while bringing up the Postmates app.
He bristles. "Do you need it?"
Your eyes flit to the crown of his head, and he tightens his arms around your waist while staring ahead at the TV. "I mean, I'm on something, but I'd rather be safe than sorry."
His jaw ticks. This isn't how he imagined you would be—that you would want to prevent your womb from quickening. It's unwelcomely breaking the fantasy he's painted in his head.
He shrugs casually. "I always thought you were exceptionally maternal. Not saying you shouldn't order it, just an observation."
You want to tell him to just shoot where he's aiming, but don't think you're entirely keen on opening such a horrific can of worms after a long day such as this one. It'd be better for you if you did, but...
You lock your phone and tuck it back away, deigning that you'll do it tomorrow, either before or after work.
After a moment, Robby raises his head and kisses you softly while yanking at your hips to bring you beneath him.
When he shoves a hand beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, you also spread your legs, as if on instinct.
You once again don't mention a condom.
Stupid.
Robby plans to remain off work for a few more days, but insisted on driving you today. So much for a pharmacy run. Perhaps you'll venture up to obstetrics today and see if they can give you what you're looking for.
With your hand held tightly in his the whole way there, only the radio playing quietly in the background interrupts the hum of the engine and the wheels beneath you.
When a rather twangy tune enters the truck stereo, Robby smirks and turns the dial up a few notches. "Like fuckin' fate," he drawls. "This is the song that made me decide to head back. Heard it one morning and just," he shrugs a shoulder, "Made a choice."
It's a song you know—Gary Allan.
All this leavin' her alone is killin' me.
Your forehead creases and your nose stings.
I can feel her skin against me when I sleep.
You glance to Robby and admire the soft smile that's now spread across his lips.
Where I won't miss her, I can kiss her anytime that I want to.
You cup the back of his head.
'Cause I've finally got all my priorities in line, and I'm right where I need to be.
It's so incredibly silly because it's a little country song that came out at least twenty-something-years-ago, but it's like the singer is providing a voice for the thoughts in Robby's head. His feelings. He drove how many hundreds, if not thousands of miles to race back just to be with you?
"I want to stay," you state then, with certainty. "At home. With you."
Raising your hand toward his lips, he presses a firm kiss to the back of it before resting your entwined arms on the center console.
Your chin wobbles when you see him swipe an unbidden tear from his weathered, freckled cheek.
"I'll be here to pick you up after shift," Robby informs you as you gather your things.
"Alright. Thank you." You lean across the cabin and cup his cheek before planting a soft kiss upon his lips.
Once you've exited the truck and are standing between the driver's side door where Robby sits and the glass doors of the ED, he calls to you.
Turning back to him, you await with a raised brow to hear what he has to say. "Text me if shift runs over."
You nod. "I will."
He rests an arm upon the windowsill and plants the pad of his thumb against his chin while studying you with quiet adoration. "I love you."
Your stomach squeezes uncomfortably and you find yourself at a loss for words.
Why did he have to do this so soon?
He clears his throat and shifts in his seat while hanging a wrist over the wheel and glancing ahead, then back to you.
You allow a smile to bloom upon your lips, as if you're only just registering his romantic admittance. You take a couple small steps toward him. "I love you, too," you reply with a lilted tone of surprise.
Why're you doing this to yourself? Have you always been such a people-pleaser?
He chuckles and hangs his head with a happy grin. "Glad to hear it."
"Is he back?" Jack asks insistently while following you to your locker.
"As of a couple nights ago."
"You never texted me," he retorts with crossed arms.
"I know, I'm sorry." Popping open the small door in front of you, you hang your backpack from a silver hook. "I meant to, but got distracted."
"Well," he begins with a shrug. "How is he? He seem to be doing better?"
Clicking it shut, you wrap your stethoscope around your neck and hold fast to each end of it. Yes? No? "Too soon to tell."
Seems a safe enough answer.
He raises a brow and plants his feet in quiet expectance of elaboration.
"He's done a lot of driving, Jack. I think he just needs a few days to rest up from... Whatever the motorcycle equivalent is of jet lag. He needs to be able to catch his bearings, and Robby will be back here soon enough, I'm sure."
He sighs while scrubbing a hand down his face. "He say anything to you to let on how he's doing after his sabbatical?"
You mean while he was fucking me in his bed, or came inside me again on the couch last night? He's been communicating in other ways, Abbot.
You need to run up to OB before your shift starts to take a much needed pill.
"Well," you drawl while skirting past him. "He still has a month left technically, so it's not over yet."
"Just answer the damn question," he spits while trailing you to the elevator.
You huff in exasperation. "He hasn't really talked much about his state of mind, no."
"I mean, did you just take off back to your and Samira's once he got in, or did you have a chance to sort of—"
"Observe him?" you ask with a raised brow while pressing the button that will take you up.
He stays silent.
"I guess you'll just have to wait and ask him yourself how he's doing." Saved by the bell, stainless steel doors spread apart and a couple people exit before you step inside.
"Where're you headed?" Jack questions while crossing his arms.
"Just something I need to see to."
You watch him shake his head as they close.
Robby's return to the ED is two weeks later. You try to keep an eye on him, as does Jack—since he chooses to hang over for a couple hours so that he can try and get a conversation in with his friend—but he otherwise seems... Okay, you think.
Maybe not great, but functional. Better than he was a few nights ago when you awoke to the sight of him hunched over the side of the bed with his head held in his hands while he quietly wept.
You'd promptly crawled into his lap, wrapped yourself around him, held him incredibly close, and rocked him in your arms like a mother would her baby while showering him in soft kisses and comforting words of reassurance that everything would be okay.
He never did tell you what had him so tore up, but instead fell asleep with your breast in his mouth while you sang him a lullaby. You were just glad he managed to rest for the remainder of the night.
Robby starts off strong with a coding patient straight off an ambulance that he pulls you in for, to which Abbot accompanies, and he runs the entire trauma room operation from start to finish without impediment.
His keeping you close isn't just a one-time occurrence, though. It's every single case, much to the frustration of a few others when he barges into this exam room or that trauma bay to steal you away, saying he needs you more than they do.
You were elbow-deep in someone's chest cavity at one point and trying to keep a level tone while insisting that you cannot just come because he orders you to when he lost his temper and shouted that as your attending, he wasn't asking, but telling.
Jack thankfully barged in and pulled him out for a private conversation, while you returned to your patient.
"What's going on with you, man? First day back and you're acting like unless you have her strapped to your side that you can't function in there."
Back to the fucking ambulance bay again. Robby should've known he was in for another goddamn lecture the second Jack started leading him in this direction.
"Just trying to teach my resident," he replies with a shrug and hands slid into his back pockets.
"Is she..." He crosses his arms and takes a step forward. "Is she still living with you?"
Robby shakes his head dismissively. "Hardly see how that's of concern to anyone but us."
He wonders a bit more seriously now as to what that trip up to OB was all about a couple weeks past, and if it had anything to do with the man standing in front of him now. "So in other words: yes," he retorts.
Robby purses his lips and narrows his eyes while shrugging. "We done here?"
"What do you think, Robby? That keeping her around is going to solve whatever's gone wrong? The road trip clearly wasn't the solution. Brother, I'm—"
Folding his hands behind his head, he arches his back and groans. "Why don't you try minding your own fucking business?" he growls while leveling him with a malicious glare.
Abbot stumbles back a step and hurt flashes across his wounded features.
Robby sighs and runs his hands down his face while opening his mouth then shutting it again. "I'm sorry," he mutters in apology. "I just don't have time for this right now, alright? I need to get back in there."
"I'm concerned," he says, trying again. "The last couple weeks, I thought she seemed different—off somehow. If you lay all your baggage at her feet and expect her to unpack, or—or solve all your problems for you, or be some ultimate God-given solution... How long before she's exactly where you're standing?"
With brows drawn together and creases folded across his forehead, Robby's attention flits back to the ED. "We're fine. She's fine. Y/N is a big girl, and is more than capable of telling me how she feels." He takes a step back. "Listen, after..." he sighs. "Maybe while I was gone you got a little close to her. Thought something was there that wasn't. After losing your wife—"
"This has nothing to do with my wife," he spits while nervously twisting his wedding band.
Robby nods and half turns away. "She's with me now," he states. "So just... Keep that in mind going forward."
Jack watches him walk away.
Just across from the computer station, Robby observes Frank conversing with you.
He's in the middle of tugging off a pair of gloves when he feels his body grow cold all over at the sight of the pair of you looking at one another. It's just casual conversation, he's sure, but how can he be certain of it?
Somehow, the only place that Robby feels whatever bond he's forming with you is safe is when he's with you in bed. When his limbs are lying heavy atop your own and his cock is softening inside of you after finishing into a condom—no, he's not pleased that you insist on using them, but either he does, or you stop making love altogether—and for a fleeting moment, everything else fades away.
He can't be left again. He can't...lose you.
But you promised him, the day he divulged his mother's abandonment to you, that you were here to stay.
You'd pressed his head close to your heart and carded your fingers in his hair while he quietly cried, despite trying to choke it down for your benefit.
He exhales and throws the gloves away before seeing to another patient.
"You doing alright?" Robby asks while sidling up next to where you stand at a computer cart.
You nod while typing. "I am."
He chews the inside of his cheek for a moment. "Are we okay?" he questions hesitantly
You jerk your head to the side and gaze into Robby's troubled, glassy eyes. "Of course. Why would you ask that?"
He shrugs nonchalantly. "Saw you talking with Langdon earlier and I got worried. Been away from here for awhile, so—"
Your brows furrow. "He's married, Robby. With two little ones. We had a patient a couple hours ago that we worked on together, and since I was already at a computer, he asked if I could check on him in the system. He's upstairs and resting now," you finish with a small smile.
He sighs. "I'm sorry. Just me being—" Insecure in his old age? "I'm sorry, sweetheart."
You sign out of the desktop. "It's okay, sweetie."
You're unsure if you truly mean that.
"Knew you'd come back early," Noelle states with a laugh and slender, folded arms.
"Just two weeks," Robby replies while finishing up some charting at the same cart you made use of earlier in the day.
"Still," she states with a cocked head. "May I ask what brought you back before your sabbatical's end?"
He raises a shoulder. "Just had someone at home which I didn't like the idea of being there alone."
Her manicured brows furrow and she leans back to study him. "Last I checked, you were at least half single before you left. Don't remember you having any housemates."
Robby continues tapping away on the keyboard.
"May I ask whom?"
He considers for a moment.
He's already caught shit from Abbot, and with your shared shift nearly at its end, he just wants to walk out of here in half-decent shape. Not pissed off now that he's finally cooled down after twelve hours.
He glances toward the computer station where you're seated yet again and nods.
Noelle turns and almost snorts when she spots you. Turning back to him, it's with raised brows and wide eyes of incredulity. "Robby, you cannot be serious. She's a kid. Not to mention a resident."
He signs out of the desktop. "She's woman enough, trust me." Stepping past her, he mumbles "And all I need" before coming to join you.
Observing from afar, she watches as he seats himself next you and cups the back of your head while staring at you with unabashed adoration and warmth—like you hung the moon and dotted the sky with stars.
You giggle, say something she can't discern, and he grins while rolling his shoulders.
But she does make out his reply: I love you.
With a roll of her eyes, she makes a beeline for the elevators.
"I can't concentrate on charting if you're staring at me, Michael."
He grins. "Can't help it. Just hard to believe that you're real sometimes." Robby massages the back of your neck. "And finally mine."
He slides a hand between your thighs while mentally making plans for tonight once you're alone together. Perhaps a talk should be had soon about getting you off birth control so the two of you can start trying for the baby he's always wanted.
Maternal as you are with...patients, he knows you'd be an ideal mother.
"Don't know what I'd do without you now." He shrugs. "Don't like to think about it, anyway."
You give his hand a squeeze and shift in your seat. "I'm right here, Robby." You look at him. "I'm not going anywhere."
He kisses your cheek. "I know."
"I can carry that."
You slide the straps of your backpack onto your shoulders and shake your head. "It's okay, I got it. You already have one."
Robby extends his hand then, and you twine your fingers tightly between his and hold firmly to his arm. Navigating your way through Chairs always gives you anxiety, so now having him to shield you from impatiently waiting individuals who're likely to ambush you and demand an ETA on when they'll be seen is a relief.
Just as he opens the door that'll lead you toward the perpetually crowded space, you glance over your shoulder and still at the sight of Abbot watching the two of you leave.
When your eyes meets his, his face crumples at the sight of you so intimately attached to Robby's side, but the exchange is cut short when he pulls you along beside him to take you home.
The door swings shut behind you, leaving Jack behind.
pairing ₊˚⊹ᰔ vampire bf!riki x human gf!reader ; warnings : smut, public sex but not really? fucking on his bike, squirting, aphrodisiac. note: is this goon material... heh... listened to whatsaheart again after a few years and thought of riki
IT WAS TIME FOR FEEDING, and being a vampire was a challenge in a relationship with a human. Riki was starving for blood; the hunger scratched at his chest like a wild animal, whispering in his veins.
You were seated on his motorbike with your legs crossed casually, as you were babbling about your work—about a girl at the coffee shop who kept asking about him.
"It's so strange. She always wants to know how we met, what you're like, if you're single—girl do you want your throat ripped out?"
Riki tried to laugh, it was hard to focus when the only thing he could think about was the steady rhythm of your pulse, the scent of your blood in the cool air.
The silver light of the full moon made your skin glow and the strong sound of your heart beat was louder than the sound of your voice.
You didn't notice how his jaw tensed, that his eyes were roaming toward the soft skin of your neck, your collarbone, the spot where your pulse thumped.
"Riki?" you asked, glancing at him. "Are you listening at all?"
He blinked, coming out of the trance and forcing his voice to sound normal. "Yeah—yeah, I'm listening. That girl is crazy. It doesn't matter. You know I just want you, right?"
The way he said it was different—rougher, lower. Like a growl.
Your brows furrowed. "Ki... are you okay?"
He exhaled sharply, gripping onto the pole next to his bike like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. The veins in his neck were beginning to darken. His fangs ached under his lips.
"Riki," you said quietly, seeing the faint red glow in his eyes, "Is it time to feed again? Do you have your blood bag?"
He shut his eyes and shook his head. "No. I didn't bring it."
You swallowed. The wind blew your scent straight to him, and his grip on reality slipped even more.
His eyes were now focused on your neck, unblinking, hungry. "Then feed on me," you said softly.
His head snapped up, eyes wide. "No." He took a step back and shook his head harder this time.
"Once I feed, it will send an aphrodisiac into you, and I can't just-" His voice cracked slightly. "We’re in public.”
You tilted your head as you took in the deserted street. The neon from a half-dead sign flickered nearby, casting both of you in alternating light and shadow.
"So?" you raised a brow, "There's no people on the streets whatsoever."
Riki's breath stopped; the hunger was taking over now, and your indifference just wasn't helping. He could feel his fangs pressing against the edges of his lips.
"Baby," he choked, taking a step closer tentatively "If I start, I don't know if I'll be able to stop."
You held his gaze, unfaltering. "Then don't stop."
That broke him. In the next second, his palm was on your waist as he pulled you in closer until your back met the metal of the motorbike; each breath a stutter and his lips hovering your thudding pulse.
"Tell me to stop," he urged, his voice shook with restrain,
You only tilted your head further in anticipation. "Feed, Riki."
As soon as his fangs pulled back, you felt it—the remnants of warmth seeping under your skin, pooling low in your stomach. You stuttered in your breath, your knees almost buckled.
Riki caught you immediately, his hand steady on your waist as he brushed his lips against the bite marks, a silent apology in a gentle kiss against the spot he had just pierced.
The entirety of the world felt slightly tilted in an unusual way, everything around you far away except the sound of your own heart pounding inside your ears, and the light rumble of his breathing.
All you could manage was a shaky nod, your fingers gripping the front of his jacket. He leaned in, his eyes darker, hungrier, but not just from thirst, right now.
His lips were on yours—slow to begin with, testing, before the kiss deepened with that feeling of urgency that made you feel dizzy all over again.
The lamp post beside the bike made the world feel steady, but then his body was pressed close against yours and the night air thick between you both.
You could still taste the faint metallic taste of your blood lingering between the both of you, mingled with something fuller than blood—desire, relief, danger.
His thumb brushed along your jaw, the other hand still holding you up as he murmured against your lips, "I told you I'd lose control."
"Fuck, I need you now," You moaned, feeling your body start to break with the vampire aphrodisiac he had sent into you.
His grip on your waist tightened, his cool fingers digging into your skin as he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, the hunger in his gaze now a blazing inferno. The aphrodisiac swelled through you like a cascade of rolling fire, clit throbbing and pooling slick on your inner thighs.
You pushed your hips forward, rubbing against the protruding bulge straining against his jeans, craving for friction.
"Not here," he growled, voice rough with restraint, but his body betrayed him—his free hand slipped down to cup at your ass, squeezing hard enough to bruise you.
He glanced at his bike, its metal frame glimmered around the lamp post, and back at you, fangs out as his mouth parted slightly.
"Unless you want me to fuck you against it, for anyone that passed by to see."
Your nod was frantic, the drug had turned every nerve ending into a live wire. "Yes—now, Riki. Please" The words tumbled out, needy and raw as you clawed at the shell of his leather jacket, thumbing it open to feel the chill of his undead skin.
He didn't hesitate. With supernatural speed, he spun you around and had your front pinned against the bike's seat, the coolness of the leather pressed against your heated cheek. Your skirt hiked up in one swift motion, and his hands ripped the panties off of you with a distinct tear in the still of the night.
The cold air brushed your exposed core, and it was nothing compared to the rush you felt when Riki's fingers parted you, two fingers sinking deep into your soaking heat.
You moaned out loud, muffled against the bike as he pumped his fingers in and out, curling them to hit your g-spot angrily. The aphrodisiac heightened absolutely everything—the stretch of his fingers sinking into you, the wet squelch of your juices covering his hand, the way your walls fluttered around him.
"So fucking wet already," he muttered, his warm breath hitting the back of your neck.
Even in his cold state, he added a third finger, stretching you wider, scissoring you to get you ready for what was about to happen next.
Your hips bucked back to chase the pressure that was building, but he kept you still with one arm across your lower back. His thumb found your clit and began to rub tights circles that made your vision blur.
The buildup was quick, your body hypersensitive from the venom, and when you came, it was hard, your pussy clenching his fingers as a gush of your own arousal squirted onto his palm, dripping down your thighs.
Riki removed his hand, chuckling softly as the sound vibrated through you, you heard his zipper opened, then felt the blunt head of his cock nudge your entrance—he was massive. Thicker than any human could be, veins pulsing with unnatural vigor.
He thrust in without any warning, burying himself immediately in one brutal stroke, you cried out, though the fullness was painful, the aphrodisiac twisted that full feeling into ecstasy, your pussy gripping him with a tight grip.
He began with a punishing pace, hips slamming against your ass so the bike rocked under the force of it. Each thrust forced you forward, your chest scraping against the seat through your shirt, the friction was incredible.
Riki's hand fisted in your hair, yanking your head back into a position of submission—your fresh bite marks still tender. He leaned down, tongue lapping at the punctures, until his fangs nudged against your skin once more, not piercing but teasing, sending fresh waves of heat straight to your core.
"Mine," he growled, pushing deeper into you, his balls smacking against your ass with each thrust.
You reached back blindly, nails digging into his thigh, urging him on even as your body trembled from the onslaught. The night air around you filled with obscenity—your gasps, his grunts, and the slick sound of his cock splitting you open.
He shifted, angling to hit that spot inside you relentlessly, and the second orgasm came out like a tidal wave. Your squirted again as you drenched his cock and the bike beneath you, his cock disappearing further into your throbbing walls and you screamed his name.
Riki lost his last thread of control, he bit down gently into your shoulder, not breaking the skin this time, but even just the threat of it was enough to push him over.
With a deep growl, he buried himself into you again and again, cock stilling deep as he pumped thick ropes of cum into your pussy, the warm mess contrasting his cool body.
He stayed buried deep inside while you both panted, your body quaking as the aftershocks rolled through you. Finally, he pulled out slowly, your combined releases trickling down your thighs, and he turned you toward him, and his lips caught yours in an entirely possessive kiss while his hands roamed your body like he was trying to get as much contact with you as possible.
"That's just the start," he said softly, a suggestion of his eyes glinting with promise, "My venom will have you lusting after me all night."
You leaned in to him, legs still shaking, and you could already feel the pull building again—the aphrodisiac guaranteeing you wouldn't be satisfied for a while.
synopsis: your boyfriend is way too busy with his basketball tournament so your boyfriend's bestfriend take his chance to do what your boyfriend can't do.
ohyul kisses your forehead in a rush before he slide his feet in his puma sportshoe. no good bye nor take care and i love you ever escaped from his lips whenever he left the shared apartment, especially when he headed out to his basketball practice or to hang out with his bestfriends. you force out a smile, telling him good luck before you close the door.
with a loud sigh, you throw yourself on the sofa, watching whatever is playing on the television. since your boyfriend got eligible for the tournament, he barely spends his time with you. he always either spends his night with his teammate or sleeps at the coach's house. at this point, you wonder if basketball or you are his lover. continuing with another sigh, you stare at the television, waiting for you-don't-know-what next.
the drama playing on the television quite hooked your interest that you didn't notice the doorbell ringing until a loud knock occurred. no way that is your boyfriend; he is already on the court by now. your heart beats a little faster than usual as anxiety takes over you at the moment.
"who's that? ohyul is not home."
you told out loud, one hand hiding the knife behind your back just in case.
"it's me, james. zhao james."
the stranger replied. you put the knife in the drawer as you draw a deep breath, feeling relief. you opened the door and a man wearing a striped t-shirt with a whisker dimple greets you.
"aren't you ohyul's bestfriend? i heard a lot about you"
he didn't answer your question but only gave a small nod and a bright smile instead. is his life all about sunshine? you thought.
"if you want to meet ohyul he isn't—"
"i want to see you."
james cut you off. an awkward laugh escaped from your lips; didn't expect that, obviously.
"come inside then, it's hot outside."
hours passed. you get to know about james better. apparently, he is the closest and the one that ohyul trust the most since they already knew each other when they were like seven years old. you can tell why ohyul cheer for and respect him the most. james is full of manner. it's lucky for whoever will be his partner later.
basically, james wanted to see you because ohyul told him to do so. to look after you. but it seems that james might take it too far. and his angelic demeanor makes him slip.
"it's dawn now. i think i'll better go."
"yeah. it's nice talking to you. see you soon."
soon. you want to meet james soon. or atleast, that's what he thought.
for the whole week ohyul was gone for the tournament, james never missed visiting you. from bringing you to lunch or dinner, asking you to accompany him during his dance lesson, and even carrying you to your shared bed with ohyul while you're in a period cramp, which your boyfriend never did. it comes to the point you are wondering, is james or ohyul is your partner?
"thank you, james."
he nodded with a gentle smile. your cramps are hitting you harder; you didn't even realize you were taking james's wrist to come closer to you on the bed. with one eyebrow raise, he asks you,
"hey, is everything okay?"
"can you accompany me? i might need someone to take care of me. this shit hurts so bad."
you sounded almost like begging, but that didn't catch him off guard. instead, he has been waiting for this moment. he has been knowing about you from ohyul's lips and he can't believe that man is yours instead of him. what kind of boyfriend prioritizes his sport over a girlfriend? that's insane.
"what do you want me to do?"
"anything that helps to soothe this stupid cramp."
"anything?"
"anything."
morality is immediately gone the moment james drops his knees on the bed, positioning himself in between your dysmenorrheic body.
"james?"
he hummed as a response. not saying much.
"you're in pain and you can't push me,okay?"
he whispered as he made his way to the top of your head, kissing it gently. the weight of him on top of yours makes the bed creak. you can feel his dick hardening as his tips brush against your clothed pussy.
"james, i don't think you should—"
"does ohyul know how lucky he is to have you?"
your words immediately cut.
"does he ever truly love and care for you? i bet him 100$ and he would choose basketball over you."
maybe james is right. he never listen to you attentively whenever you're talking. james did. he never massages or carries you to the bed during your period cramps. james did. he never cancels his practice solely for you. james did that even without telling his dance teacher. in this one week, james did everything ohyul couldn't.
and you can't deny the fact that you started to attach to james too. his soapy scent, his manly look, his polite tone, everything about him makes you never pick up ohyul's call anymore.
"tonight, it's the last time i could have you like this with me."
your cramps shifted into another type of pain. guilty. but lust is more powerful than whatever you're feeling right now. and you want to feel loved. james make you feel that way.
and with that, you grab james's face closer to you, parting your lips to let his lips collide with yours. the simple kiss sends shivers and dopamine through your whole body. you started to pull him closer by tugging his collared shirt, wanting more. the intoxication both of you got from the kiss led to both of your hands and james' to abruptly traveling underneath each other's shirts. he take off your tee before unbuckling your bra next.
you moaned in between the kisses when james roughly gripped your boobs as his fingertips toyed with your nipples. both of your bodies rocked in sync, trying to feel each other. james's saliva dripped all over your chin and face right after he pulled out from the kiss. you look at him through half-lidded eyes.
"fuck, i never want to be with you"
james let out a sarcastic laugh.
"but i don't mind at all if ohyul caught us now."
james raise his eyebrow with a smug painting all over his face. it seems funny to him the fact he will get to have you soon and ohyul might not have even noticed because he is way too fucking busy with basketball all over again.
His phone is clutched tightly in your hand. You followed the soldier's instructions and went back to his home with his son, Sam, after hacking the security systems to open the doors. Almost a week has passed since then. You're practically living in a stranger's house. With a stranger's child...
"It's me." A deep voice comes from the other end of the line. No name, no identity. Your heart pounds twice as fast.
"W-who?"
For a second, Ghost wonders if you're serious. "Simon Riley," he gives his full name.
You breathe a sigh of relief. "Oh... Hello, sir."
"Is Sam nearby?" Ghost has no interest in speaking with you. His time for the call is already limited.
"Uhm, y-yes. Wait." As you walk from the open kitchen through the living room and then up the stairs to Sam's room, Ghost can hear you bumping into walls and doorframes and stumbling twice on the stairs. A pained groan escapes your lips every now and then. He understands why they keep you working from home.
"Hey... uhm Sam." The five-year-old looks up from his perch on the toy car rug in front of his bed and drops the toy car. "The lieutenant—I mean... your dad... wants to talk to you." Your brain switches too quickly between military ranks and civilian language.
You hand the phone to the child and wait a moment. Ghost explains the situation to his child with as much empathy as he can muster. Tears stream down Sam's cheeks. Up until now, you've only explained to Sam that his mom has an important appointment and that's why you have to look after him. Now he's confronted with the truth.
Sam throws the phone and runs out of the room. You pick it up again and hold it to your ear, already expecting the soldier to have hung up. The line is completely silent.
"I can hear you breathing." His voice startles you so much that a high-pitched squeak escapes your throat.
"Oh... r-right. You're still on the line."
Ghost has to force himself to stay calm. He takes a breath. "Calm Sam down. Distract him if you can."
You nod, until you realize the man on the other end of the line can't see you. "Y-yeah, sure. I'll... show him chess or something."
For a few seconds, there's dead silence on the line. Ghost puts a hand to the bridge of his nose and squeezes his eyes shut. He forces his breathing to calm down. "He's five."
"I... uhm..." You scramble for options. You've never looked after a child alone before. And you already find interactions with adults difficult, how are you supposed to deal with a child? "I'll just Google 'How to calm a child'."
At the next thought, your heart stops. "Oh God... if someone checks my search history—" Your eyes widen. "That sounds like kidnapping. I can't go to jail! Who will feed my tortoise then?!"
A sound escapes Ghost's throat. He's not sure if it's a grumble or a growl. "I'll pay you officially to look out for my child. No one will arrest you for that."
What has he gotten himself into?
~~~
Days pass. The phone remains silent. You and Sam have established a solid routine. You're lucky that Simon is a paranoid control freak. You quickly figure out where to drop Sam off at kindergarten, where important documents are, and what appointments are coming up. Everything else works surprisingly well—for you.
Then the phone rings again. "H-Hello?"
"Simon Riley." Ghost decides to give his full name right away before he gives you a minor heart attack. He's learned from the last conversation.
"Sir!" Your lips curl into a smile. "I distracted him," you announce proudly. "We took my tortoise for a walk. Sam and Tuna are inseparable now. Practically best friends."
Ghost blinks a few times. He wasn't expecting so much information and such fluent sentences. "That's... good," he manages. And he really shouldn't care, but the name is so absurd, he just has to ask. "Your tortoise is called Tuna?"
"Oh... yeah. She doesn't listen to that, though. But it was important to me that she had a name. Tortoises live too long to just leave them nameless."
Ghost bites the inside of his cheek. You're weird in every way. But somehow it's amusing enough to seem innocent. "How's Sam?" he finally forces himself to steer the conversation to the important part.
"He'll be talking to you again soon... I think," you reply, this time in a quieter, gentler voice. All the enthusiasm from before has vanished.
Ghost breathes a tiny sigh of relief. "I'm giving him as much time as he needs."
You nervously lower your head, even though Ghost isn't actually in front of you, whose gaze you need to avoid. His words hit too close. And your brain can't formulate a response to emotional topics.
Silence spreads. Not just on the line, but throughout the entire house. Until you catch a faint smell of burning in the air. "Oh shit!" The words leave your mouth reflexively. You jump up and rush to the oven.
Ghost hears the clinking and banging of baking trays. "Are you cooking?"
It takes you a moment to answer. "Uhm... yes." And then your information dump starts again, like a waterfall of words that can hardly be stopped once it begins. "It's a quarter to one here, and I just picked Sam up from kindergarten."
"I know what time it is on your end." This time, Ghost doesn't bother hiding the faint grin.
The sweet potato fries have turned a bit black, but you decide they're still edible enough. You wedged the phone between your shoulder and ear as you tip the fries from the tray into a bowl. Sam's already reaching for one, giggling about the color. "Uh... the sweet potato fries have turned... slightly aggressive."
From the other end comes an amused, "Don't forget to turn off the oven."
Pairing : non-idol Heeseung x roommate reader
Genre : fluff, breakup (not with reader), they're so cute
Synopsis : After his breakup, Heeseung went through a rough patch. So when his new roommate Y/N moves into his apartment and brings color back into his life, Heeseung realizes he was probably missing out on a lot by staying cooped up in his room.
Heeseung was lost in thought, slouched on the couch in Jay's apartment where the group was spending the evening. After his breakup with his girlfriend, he had lost interest in everything and let himself go, taking advantage of working remotely to play video games all day and only leaving his apartment to go grocery shopping and see his friends.
The guys had tried to force him to go out and see people, to socialize, but Heeseung stayed in his corner, as silent as a tomb. They suspected that this breakup of a three-year relationship must have broken him, especially since she left him for another guy, but they were struggling to leave their friend like this.
Jake's girlfriend, Mina, had been throwing him sideways glances since the start of the evening, and Heeseung rolled his eyes, turning his head in her direction. "What? You've been staring at me for a while. Something to say?"
The young woman glanced at her boyfriend, who encouraged her to speak, and she sighed. "I thought you could do me a favor." Heeseung nodded for her to continue. "My friend, Y/N, her landlord kicked her out of the apartment she was living in, and she can't find another place to stay. I was thinking that since you have a spare room in your apartment, you could let her move in with you? Just until she finds something."
Mina looked at him, her eyes full of hope, and Heeseung glanced around to see their friends waiting for his answer. Heeseung used to be quite sociable. He used to go out often, had no trouble approaching people, but since the breakup, he had closed himself off. Jake gave him a little sign, asking him to do this for him, and he finally nodded.
"Yeah, alright. She can come."
"Thank you so much, Heeseung!" Mina smiled, grabbing his hand. "Y/N is really lovely, and having lived with her before, she's an excellent roommate. She'll pay part of the rent!" Heeseung signaled that it wasn't necessary and told her she could come as early as the next day before sinking back into his thoughts.
He wasn't sure about his decision, but he would see what this Y/N was like.
The next day, Heeseung was woken by the doorbell. He put on a sweatshirt over his pajama t-shirt, walked to the door, and opened it. A girl his age stood on the doorstep, a suitcase at her feet. "What's this ?" he yawned, rubbing his eyes with one hand.
"Oh, uh... Hi! I'm Y/N. You must be Heeseung." The young man blinked and then looked her up and down. "Sorry, were you sleeping? Mina said I could come today?"
"Oh yeah, that's fine. But you're here early."
"It's two o'clock, Heeseung." He turned his head toward the clock near the door and saw that the afternoon was already well underway. He apologized under his breath and stepped aside to invite her in.
Y/N thanked him with a smile and pulled her suitcase behind her, looking at the apartment she would be living in until she found something better. And it was clear that Heeseung had been living alone for a long time, as it wasn't the tidiest apartment she had ever seen.
"I'll show you your room." She nodded and followed him, passing by Heeseung's room, whose door had been left open. She just had time to glimpse the dark screens of the PCs on the desk and the lowered blinds.
Heeseung opened the door to her room to let her in, and everything was already brighter than the rest of the apartment. And tidier. He probably didn't come into this room very often. "You have your own bathroom, so make yourself at home."
"Thank you so much for taking me in, Heeseung. I don't want to bother you more than that."
"You're not bothering me," he reassured her with a slight smile that stretched his tired eyes. "I owed it to Jake and Mina. No need to ask to use things in the apartment, make yourself at home."
Y/N thanked him, and the young man left the room to return to his own, burying himself under his duvet to finish his night. The young woman looked around the room and sat at the foot of the bed. This roommate situation was going to be something...
A few days passed, and Y/N was settling into the apartment. And Heeseung was getting used to having company at home again, especially female company. Y/N wasn't the worst roommate. In fact, she was the most pleasant. She was quiet, didn't leave anything lying around, always cleaned up after herself, and rarely bothered him.
She quickly understood that Heeseung was a kind of vampire who rarely left his room and survived exclusively on ramen and coffee. And even if she didn't want to impose herself in his life, she would at least try to change that aspect.
Heeseung was focused on a video game, half-plunged into the darkness of the settling evening. He brought his almost-cold coffee cup to his lips, shouting into his headset microphone. He barely heard the knock on his door and Y/N entering his room.
Without a word, she crossed the room, dodging the clothes on the floor, grabbing the cold cup and replacing it with a plate of food and a glass of water. The game ended, and Heeseung turned his head toward her as Y/N left without saying anything. He looked down at the plate, a mix of noodles with vegetables and beef, emanating a delicious smell.
A slight smile stretched his lips as he grabbed the chopsticks and began to eat. And Y/N was happy and satisfied to see the plate in the sink the next morning when she woke up. After that, she often brought him dinner in his room when he was too busy in front of his screen to eat, and Heeseung noticed it every time, even if he said nothing.
One evening, Y/N was preparing dinner after coming home from work and set two plates, one for herself and one for Heeseung. She was humming, startled when she saw Heeseung behind the kitchen island that opened directly onto the living room. "Heeseung! Jesus!"
"Sorry…" He scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed. "You were making dinner?"
"Oh, yeah! I was going to bring you your plate."
"Could... could I have dinner with you tonight?" Y/N nodded with a smile and handed him his plate. They went to sit at the coffee table in the living room, beginning to eat in silence. "Well, I've never asked you what you do for work."
"I work for a modeling agency."
"You're a model?" Heeseung asked, surprised, letting his gaze slide over her figure.
"No," she laughed. "I recruit models and direct them for different projects. I'm a kind of manager."
"That seems nice."
"Yes, it is! And you, what do you do ?"
"Oh well, it's not as exciting as you," he said, trying to change the subject.
"Come on!" Y/N exclaimed, not believing it for a second. "Mina told me you love music, right?"
"Yeah, I'm a music producer." Her eyes widened, but she smiled. "It's nothing."
"It's not nothing! That's awesome!" Heeseung looked up at her, surprised by her enthusiasm.
"You think so?"
"Of course! Alright, have I ever heard your songs? Are you known in the industry, or are you still in the shadows of fame?" He caught himself chuckling but shook his head.
"I'm doing well."
"Now you have to let me listen to what you produce. Unless it's top-secret stuff, which would make me want to know even more." Heeseung smiled and promised to let her listen to what he was working on soon.
Y/N was honestly happy about this dinner. It was the first time Heeseung had taken such a step toward her, and she was pleased to be able to talk with him. Heeseung wished her good night before retreating to his room, and the young woman smiled at him with a wave.
Heeseung thought he had moved apartments overnight when one morning, or afternoon, he got up to see the apartment completely tidy and cleaned, a good smell of fresh, clean air filling his lungs. All the curtains were open, the blinds were up, and he hadn't seen his apartment so bright in ages.
Y/N must have done some spring cleaning earlier than planned, but seeing his apartment like this, the way it was when he wasn't this closed-off ball of sadness, gave him a jolt. Heeseung took a shower, aired out his room, changed his sheets, and picked up all the clothes littering the floor to put them in the wash.
The young woman was surprised to see Heeseung settled at the living room table tapping on his computer rather than in the darkness of his room. "Hee?"
"Hey, Y/N. Good day at work?"
"Yeah, pretty good." She gave him a curious look while taking off her shoes. "And you?"
"Very productive! Why don't we order in for dinner? My treat."
"Okay, cool." Heeseung smiled at her and grabbed his phone to order food.
She went to change into something more comfortable, returning to the living room just as Heeseung came back with the bag containing their dinner. Y/N sat down next to him, her stomach growling at the smell coming from the dishes.
"Do you want to watch a movie?" he suggested. "I saw one not long ago, and it was cool."
"Yes, of course. I hope you have good taste in movies."
"It's a horror movie." He didn't miss her grimace but started the movie anyway.
They ate dinner during the beginning of the movie, Y/N completely caught up in the plot between bites of her sushi. Heeseung watched her reactions out of the corner of his eye, smiling when he saw a particularly scary moment of the movie approaching.
Just before the screamer appeared on screen, Heeseung suddenly placed his hand on her shoulder with a loud "AH!" Y/N screamed, hitting him on the arm.
"Fuck you, Hee!" He rolled onto his back, laughing, proud of his joke, and Y/N couldn't stay mad for long, having never heard him laugh so freely. She hit him again, although her smile betrayed her.
They settled back onto the couch for the end of the movie, and Y/N wrapped her blanket around her shoulders, stifling a yawn. The last scary scene of the movie played on screen, eliciting a cry of surprise from the young woman, who buried her face in Heeseung's shoulder. "You know it's just a movie, right?"
"He was so ugly!" He chuckled, encircling her shoulders with his arm to press her a little closer to him and comfort her. So close, he could smell the almond shampoo she used and her fruity perfume.
Y/N relaxed against him, reassured by his presence, her hand resting on his chest over his t-shirt. The movie ended, and the young woman sat up, stretching. "Thanks for the evening, Hee. It was great. But I'm never letting you choose the movie again. Next time, we're watching a Disney movie or a romantic comedy."
Heeseung rolled his eyes but nodded with a playful smile. He watched her return to her room and began to clean up their meal, thoughtful. Maybe Y/N's presence in his life could only be beneficial.
A few months passed, and everything was going... truly well between Heeseung and Y/N. She had gotten used to living alongside him and appreciated his presence. Heeseung had found a good balance between his work and his video games, even returning to his studio with his colleagues instead of staying locked in his room, which they appreciated seeing.
It was a surprise when the group of friends received a dinner invitation from Heeseung and Y/N. It was true that since the young woman had moved in, they hadn't had the chance to see each other again, so this was the perfect opportunity. Also to see how Heeseung was doing and whether he had abandoned his idea of becoming a caveman.
They all arrived at the same time, going up to the couple's apartment and ringing the bell. Heeseung came to open the door, his face sporting a smile. "Hey, guys!"
His friends stared at him with wide eyes. Alright, what did you do with the caveman? No more sweatpants and sweatshirts. "You're wearing a button-down shirt, hyung?" Jungwon choked.
Heeseung nodded as if he saw no harm in it and stepped aside to let them in. They stared at the apartment they had known as a real dump, Mina even having feared that Y/N would run away when she saw it.
But no. Everything was in its place, not a speck of dust on the shelves, and candles had even been lit, creating a cozy atmosphere. Y/N came out of the kitchen to greet them. "Guys! I'm glad to see you!"
Mina came to hug her, whispering in her ear, "What did you do to Heeseung ? What spell did you cast on him?"
"What?"
"He's a new man, girl." Y/N rolled her eyes and thanked Jay for the bottle of wine he had brought.
"Hee, can you lead them to the living room and open the wine?" Y/N asked him, handing him the bottle. "I'll be right there."
"Of course." Heeseung grabbed the bottle and walked around her to go to the living room, his arm brushing her waist as he passed. The group exchanged glances with raised eyebrows, absolutely needing to know more.
They settled in the living room, where the table was already covered with appetizer dishes. Heeseung sat in an armchair to open the bottle. His friends found him changed. Apart from the button-down shirt, his dark circles had disappeared, and his eyes had regained a certain sparkle of life. "You seem to be in good shape, hyung," Jake remarked.
"I am," Heeseung agreed. "Work is good, life at home is good. Everything is good."
A grey cat jumped from the cat tree placed behind the armchair where the young man was sitting, climbing onto the back of the armchair. "Hyung, since when do you have a cat?" Sunoo exclaimed.
Heeseung looked over his shoulder to see the third inhabitant of the apartment and chuckled. "This is Popcorn."
"Popcorn ?" snorted Sunghoon. "That's original."
"Are you criticizing our baby's name, Park?" Y/N said, coming into the living room, lifting the cat into her arms, and sitting down next to Heeseung, half on his lap.
"Of course not."
"Wait, you adopted a cat together?" Mina exclaimed, her hands on her cheeks.
"Y/N forced me," Heeseung defended himself.
"Liar!" Y/N retorted, nudging him with her shoulder. "We were just talking about the best pets, I said cats, and the next day you dragged me to the pet store!"
"Yeah, well, that cat hates me, he only sleeps in your bed."
"And you sleep in my bed too," the young woman exasperated, the group looking at each other bewildered.
"That's just because the heating in my room is broken !"
"Yeah, right. Keep telling yourself that, and maybe it'll become reality, Lee," Y/N taunted.
Heeseung stuck his tongue out at her as she laughed, stroking Popcorn's head. Mina shook Jake's arm, unable to believe what was unfolding before her eyes. Abandon the idea of enjoying the evening and just watch Heeseung and Y/N interact. That was their new goal for the evening.
The young man always had a hand on her thigh or an arm around her waist, and Y/N was constantly leaning against him or with an arm around his shoulders. Heeseung always watched her with a smile when she spoke, always making sure her glass was never empty or that she lacked for nothing. God, their friend was in love.
The end of the evening came quickly, and Heeseung and Y/N walked their friends to the door. The young man stood behind Y/N, an arm around her shoulders. "It was cool seeing you, guys."
"Thanks for having us," Jay smiled. "We're glad you came out of your hibernating bear phase, hyung." Heeseung rolled his eyes, making a movement to press Y/N closer against him, which didn't go unnoticed.
"Be careful on the road," Y/N told them. "Mina, let's go shopping soon."
"Yes, girl! We're going to empty Jake's card!" Her boyfriend looked at her with fear, making them laugh.
Heeseung closed the door after they said goodbye, locking it. They went to tidy the living room and kitchen so they wouldn't have to do it the next day, doing the dishes in silence. Y/N then headed toward her room, the young man on her heels.
"It was nice to see them again," she smiled. "We should do that more often."
"Yeah, right." She turned to face him once in front of her door. "Y/N, I…" Y/N looked up at him to face him, inviting him with her eyes to continue. Heeseung moved closer to her, placing his hands on her hips. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For everything. Thank you for being here, for being in my life. I was completely lost and depressed after my breakup, and I had no taste for anything, but you changed everything. And today, I don't want that to change. I don't want you to leave for another apartment, I want you to stay here with me. Especially since we have a cat now, you can't run away from your co-parenting responsibilities."
She giggled and bit her lip. "I wasn't planning to. And I don't want that to change either, Heeseung."
He smiled, happy to hear it, then bent down to place a kiss on her right cheek. "Good night." He kissed her left cheek. "Sweet dreams." Heeseung pressed his lips to hers before pulling back. "Dream of me."
Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck and crushed her mouth against his, giving him the long-desired kiss. Heeseung tightened his grip on her hips, pressing her against his body and deepening the kiss.
Pinned between the door and him, the young woman's fingers lost themselves in his brown locks, her lips parting to allow him to slide his tongue into the kiss. The soft moan she let out sent shivers of pleasure through him.
A meow cut short their momentum, and they pulled apart to see Popcorn sitting at their feet. "Son, dada and mama are going to go do dirty things, so go to sleep in the living room. Bedroom forbidden for children until tomorrow morning."
Y/N laughed as Heeseung lifted her into his arms, opened the door, closed it behind him with a kick, and carried her to the bed. He had everything he wanted in Y/N. And even a cat! This roommate situation had turned out to be exactly what he had needed at the right time.
Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!
When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.
As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.
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Masterlist Ko-Fi☕️
Chapter 18: The Wooyoung Effect
Wooyoung stood outside the guesthouse door for a full thirty seconds, taking deep breaths and trying to summon every ounce of charm he possessed. This was arguably the most important conversation of his life—not loosing his mate because his captain had the emotional intelligence of a brick wall.
"Okay, Wooyoung," he muttered to himself, straightening his shoulders. "Time to work the magic: charm her, win her favor back. No pressure at all."
He knocked gently on the door, then immediately called out in his most pathetic voice, "Tulip? It's me. I come bearing no opinions about your career choices and absolutely zero comments about your hormones."
There was silence from inside, but he could hear movement—the rustle of clothes being folded, the sound of a zipper. His heart clenched at the evidence that you were really, truly packing to leave them.
"Please don't make me stand out here talking to a door," he continued, pitching his voice to sound as pitiful as possible. "I'll start singing show tunes, and nobody wants that at this hour. Well, I want that, but Yeosang told me my midnight serenades are a crime against humanity."
Still no response, but the sounds inside had stopped. He was getting your attention, at least.
"I'm going to keep talking until you either let me in or I fall asleep," he warned, settling in for what might be a long siege. "And I have a lot of material prepared and had a nap. Did I ever tell you about the time I got lost in IKEA for six hours and had to be rescued by security? Because that's where I'm starting, and it only gets more embarrassing from there."
A soft sigh from inside the guesthouse gave him hope.
"So there I was," he began dramatically, "surrounded by Swedish furniture. It started innocently enough—Seonghwa-hyung sent me to buy a lamp. One lamp! How hard could it be, right? WRONG. So very, very wrong."
He heard what sounded suspiciously like a muffled laugh from inside and grinned to himself. The Wooyoung charm was already working.
"First, I got distracted by the fake room displays. They're so realistic! I genuinely thought about moving into the tiny apartment setup on the second floor. It had better lighting than our dorm at the time. But then I realized they don't actually come with snacks, which seemed like a design flaw."
Another soft sound from inside—definitely a laugh this time, though you were trying to hide it.
"Anyway, I'm wandering through this maze of furniture, right? Following the little arrows on the floor like a good citizen. But somehow I ended up in the warehouse section. It's like a furniture graveyard back there—just endless shelves of boxes with names like BJÖRKÅSEN and KNÖPPÄNG."
He paused dramatically.
"I tried to find my way back to civilization, but every path just led to more boxes. I was like a lost puppy, except instead of finding my way home, I kept discovering new ways to mispronounce Swedish words. Seonghwa-hyung found me three hours later trying to build a fort out of HEMNES dressers and pillows."
The door opened suddenly, revealing your tear-stained face trying very hard not to smile. "You did not build a fort in IKEA."
"I absolutely did," Wooyoung said solemnly, his eyes lighting up at seeing you even as his heart broke at the evidence of your tears. "It was architecturally sound and everything."
Despite everything, despite the pain and anger and heartbreak, your lips twitched upward in a reluctant smile. "You're ridiculous."
"Ridiculously charming," he corrected, taking your smile as permission to step closer. "Ridiculously devastated that our pack leader has the emotional intelligence of a particularly dense houseplant. Ridiculously in love with an omega who deserves so much better than what she got tonight."
Your smile faltered at the reminder of what had transpired, the pain returning to your eyes. "Wooyoung..."
"No, let me finish," he said gently, stepping through the doorway when you didn't immediately close it in his face. "What Hongjoong-hyung said to you was wrong. Not just tactless or poorly timed—wrong. Cruel. Unforgivable."
You looked surprised by his directness, clearly having expected him to defend his pack leader.
"He used your trauma against you," Wooyoung continued, his usual playful demeanor giving way to fierce sincerity. "He dismissed your completely valid feelings as hormonal hysteria. He tried to control you instead of listening to you. And when that didn't work, he doubled down and made it worse."
Tears were starting to flow again, but you didn't turn away from him.
"I'm not here to make excuses for him," Wooyoung said softly. "I'm here because I need you to know that what he said doesn't represent how any of the rest of us feel about you."
"Doesn't it?" you asked, your voice small and broken. "Because it seemed like you all agreed that my job, my career, everything I've worked for just... doesn't matter anymore."
Wooyoung's face crumpled with genuine anguish. "Oh, Tulip. No. No, that's not... we were scared. We were overwhelmed by the mate bonds and the biology and the chaos of everything happening so fast. But that doesn't excuse dismissing your achievements."
He gestured toward your open suitcase, clothes folded neatly inside. "You are brilliant at what you do. You took our disaster of a schedule and made it work in ways none of us thought possible. You anticipated our needs before we even knew we had them. You made our lives better, our work smoother, our pack stronger."
"But you all said—"
"We said stupid things because we were panicking," Wooyoung interrupted. "When alphas get scared about their omega's safety, sometimes we default to caveman thinking. Protect mate. Keep mate safe. Mate stay in cave where no danger exists."
Despite yourself, you snorted out a small laugh at his deliberately exaggerated alpha stereotype.
"See? You're laughing," Wooyoung said with a triumphant grin. "That means there's hope. You can't pack and leave while you're laughing at my terrible alpha impressions. It's against the rules."
"What rules?" you asked, though your tone was lighter than it had been all evening.
"The rules of dramatic crisis resolution," Wooyoung replied seriously. "Section fifteen, subsection three: 'No life-altering decisions may be made while actively enjoying someone's company.' I don't make the rules—well, actually, I just did make that rule, but it's a good rule. Very reasonable."
You shook your head at his antics, but you were definitely fighting a smile. "You're impossible."
"Impossibly lovable," he corrected. "There's a difference. One suggests I'm a problem to be solved, the other suggests I'm a treasure to be cherished."
"Modest, too," you said dryly.
"Modesty is overrated," Wooyoung declared with characteristic confidence. "Confidence, on the other hand, is undervalued. For instance, I'm confident that you don't really want to leave us."
Your bite your lip looking away. "Wooyoung..."
"Tulip," he said quickly, sensing you were about to retreat back into pain and anger. "I think you want to leave the situation. You want to leave the feeling of being controlled and dismissed and treated like you're just biology to be managed. But you don't want to leave us. Not really."
He was right, and you both knew it. The mate bonds hummed with contentment just from being in the same room with him, even through your blocker. Your omega recognized him as yours, craved his presence, felt safe in his energy.
"It doesn't matter what I want," you said sadly. "You heard what he said. What you all think. I'm just supposed to give up everything I've worked for because I'm your omega now."
"Okay, first of all," Wooyoung said, sitting cross-legged on your bed with the casual familiarity of someone who belonged in your space, "that's not what we all think. That's what our panicked, overwhelmed pack leader said while his alpha was having a complete meltdown."
You remained standing by your suitcase, but you didn't resume packing.
"Second," he continued, "nobody said you have to give up everything. We just need to figure out how to make it work. How to keep you safe while still letting you be the brilliant, capable, accomplished woman we all fell in love with."
Looking at Wooyoung sitting on your bed, speaking with such earnest conviction, something he'd said multiple times suddenly hit you with full force.
"Wait," you said, your voice catching slightly. "You keep saying... you said you're in love with me."
Wooyoung's confident expression softened into something infinitely tender. "Of course I am. How could I not be?"
"But..." you struggled to find the words, gesturing helplessly. "The mate bonds, the biology, everything happened so fast. How do you know it's really love and not just... instinct?"
Wooyoung was quiet for a moment, considering your question with the seriousness it deserved. When he spoke again, his voice held none of his usual theatrical flair—just honest, vulnerable truth.
"Because I fell in love with you before I knew what you were," he said softly. "Before I knew about the mate bonds, before I knew you were an omega, before any of the biology kicked in. I fell in love with the way you laughed at my terrible jokes. The way you rolled your eyes at my dramatics but still smiled. The way you made our chaotic lives feel manageable and warm."
He shifted on the bed, leaning forward slightly. "I fell in love with how you never made me feel like I was too much. How you just... accepted all my energy and gave it right back. How you made me want to be better—not different, just better."
Tears were gathering in your eyes again, but these felt different than the ones from earlier.
"The mate bond just explained why loving you felt as natural as breathing," Wooyoung continued. "It didn't create the love, Tulip. It just gave me a reason for why the thought of you leaving makes me feel like I'm drowning."
"What about the others?" you asked quietly. "What about Hongjoong?"
Wooyoung's expression grew pained. "I can't speak for them—that's their truth to tell you. But Hongjoong... he's so terrified of losing you that his alpha keeps trying to control everything. The man is in love with you so much it's making him crazy, but he doesn't know how to show it without his instincts getting in the way."
You sank down onto the edge of the bed beside him, overwhelmed by the weight of his words.
"I love you too," you admitted softly. "That's what makes this so hard. I love you, but I don't know how to be yours without losing myself."
"Then I'll figure out how to love you without taking anything away from who you are," Wooyoung said with fierce determination. "I can't promise the others will get there as fast as I will, but I can promise I'll never stop trying to be the mate you deserve."
"Okay," you said softly, your decision crystallizing as you looked into Wooyoung's hopeful eyes.
"Okay?" he repeated, hardly daring to breathe.
"Okay, I'll stay," you clarified, and watched as his entire face transformed with joy so pure it made your chest ache.
"Really? You're really staying?" Wooyoung bounced slightly on the bed, his excitement infectious. "Because I have at least seventeen more embarrassing stories prepared, and I was really looking forward to using my 'pathetic abandoned puppy' expression. I've been practicing in the mirror."
Despite everything, you laughed—really laughed—for the first time all evening. "You practiced a pathetic expression in the mirror?"
"For weeks," he admitted with zero shame. "Ever since that time you couldn't say no to Jongho when he used his sad maknae eyes. I figured if it worked for him, it could work for me. Want to see it?"
Before you could respond, Wooyoung's face transformed into the most ridiculously exaggerated expression of pitiful sadness you'd ever seen. His bottom lip jutted out dramatically, his eyes went wide and glassy, and he even managed to make his shoulders slump in a way that suggested utter dejection.
"Oh my god," you gasped between giggles. "You look like a cartoon character who just had his favorite toy taken away."
"Is it working?" he asked hopefully, maintaining the expression. "Because I can add trembling if needed. I've been working on my trembling technique."
"Please don't demonstrate your trembling technique," you said, still laughing. "I'm already staying. You don't need to pull out all the stops."
Wooyoung's face immediately returned to normal, his grin bright and victorious. "Good, because honestly, the trembling looks more like I'm having some kind of medical episode. Seonghwa-hyung keeps trying to take my temperature when I practice it."
The image of Seonghwa fussing over a fake-trembling Wooyoung sent you into another fit of giggles, and suddenly the weight of the evening felt lighter. This was why you loved him—his ability to find joy and laughter even in the darkest moments, his determination to make you smile when everything felt hopeless.
"I love you," you said suddenly, the words spilling out before you could stop them.
Wooyoung's expression went soft and wondering, as if he couldn't quite believe what he'd heard. "Say that again," he whispered.
"I love you," you repeated, reaching out to cup his face in your hands. "I love your terrible jokes and your dramatic flair and the way you make everything feel possible."
"Tulip," he breathed, his eyes filling with tears of pure happiness. "I love you too. So much it actually hurts sometimes, like my heart is too small to contain it all."
He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he savored the contact. When he opened them again, they were blazing with affection and something deeper—need, longing, love so intense it made the air between you feel electric.
"Can I kiss you?" he asked softly. "Please? Now that you've said you love me, I think I might actually combust if I don't."
Instead of answering with words, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but as Wooyoung's arms came around you, it deepened into something more heated, more desperate. Months of suppressed longing poured into the contact, every emotion you'd both been holding back finally free to express itself.
When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard, and Wooyoung's eyes had taken on that golden glow that marked an alpha responding to his mate.
"That was..." he started, then seemed to lose the ability to form coherent words.
"Yeah," you agreed breathlessly, understanding exactly what he meant.
Wooyoung's hands came up to frame your face, his thumbs stroking gently across your cheekbones. "Tulip," he said softly, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Can I ask you something? You can say no, absolutely no pressure, but..."
"What is it?" you asked, though you suspected you knew what he was going to request.
"Your blocker," he said quietly, his eyes searching yours. "Would you... could you take it off? Just for a little while? I want to scent you properly, want to smell your actual scent mixed with mine. I want to know what we smell like together."
The request sent a shiver through you—part anticipation, part nervousness. Removing your blocker would mean complete vulnerability, would mean letting him experience your true omega nature without any barriers.
"You don't have to," Wooyoung said quickly, clearly sensing your hesitation. "I just... the mate bond is so much stronger when I can actually smell you. And after everything tonight, I need that connection. I need to know you're really mine."
The vulnerability in his voice, the way he was looking at you like you were something precious and desperately wanted, made your decision for you. Slowly, carefully, you reached behind your ear and peeled away the scent blocker patch.
The effect was immediate and overwhelming. Your natural jasmine and vanilla scent flooded the small space, and Wooyoung's reaction was instantaneous. His eyes blazed fully gold as his alpha responded to the sudden presence of his unblocked omega, a low rumble of satisfaction vibrating through his chest.
"Oh," he breathed, his voice rough with emotion and desire. "Oh, Tulip. You smell like... like coming home. Like everything I've ever wanted."
He buried his face in your neck, breathing deeply as your scent surrounded him completely for the first time. The sensation of his warm breath against your skin, the way he seemed to melt into you as if you were his anchor, sent waves of omega contentment through your entire being.
"You smell perfect," he murmured against your throat, pressing soft kisses along your pulse point. "Like mine. Like you've always been mine."
The possessive words should have alarmed you, but instead they sent a thrill of satisfaction through your omega. This was your alpha, claiming you with scent and touch and reverent words, and every instinct you possessed was singing with joy at finally being able to show him your true self.
"Wooyoung," you sighed, tilting your head to give him better access to your neck.
"I love you," he whispered between kisses, his hands tangling in your hair. "I love you so much, and now I can smell how much you love me too. It's in your scent—happiness and affection and home."
You could feel tears gathering in your eyes again, but these were tears of relief and overwhelming emotion rather than pain. This was what the mate bond was supposed to feel like—not control or dominance, but mutual love and acceptance and the joy of finding your perfect match.
"Don't ever scare me like that again," Wooyoung said softly, pulling back to look into your eyes. "Don't ever pack your bags and threaten to leave. My heart can't take it."
"I won't," you promised, meaning it completely. "We'll figure this out together."
"Together," he agreed, sealing the promise with another soft kiss that tasted like hope and forever.
You and Wooyoung were lying peacefully on your bed, your head resting on his chest as his fingers traced lazy patterns through your hair. The emotional exhaustion of the evening was finally catching up with you, and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat was lulling you into a drowsy contentment.
"We should probably head back to the main house soon," you murmured against his chest, though you made no move to actually get up. "Let the others know everything's okay."
"Mmm," Wooyoung hummed in agreement, his hand continuing its soothing motions. "Five more minutes. I'm not ready to share you with seven other alphas just yet."
You were about to tease him about his possessiveness when a sound from the main house shattered the peaceful quiet of the night.
"WHAT THE FUCK DID HE SAY TO HER?!"
The roar was so loud and so full of rage that it seemed to shake the very foundations of both buildings. It was followed immediately by what sounded like furniture being thrown and a string of colorful curses that would have made a sailor blush.
You shot upright in bed, your heart hammering as another furious bellow echoed across the garden.
"WHERE IS HE? WHERE IS THAT FUCKING—"
"Oh dear," Wooyoung said with exaggerated calmness, propping himself up on his elbows. "Sleeping Beauty is awake."
Despite the terrifying sounds coming from the main house, you couldn't help but snort with laughter at his casual tone. "Sleeping Beauty?"
"Our darling Mingi," Wooyoung explained with theatrical flair. "I'm guessing Yunho filled him in on Captain Foot-in-Mouth's latest verbal disasters while he was recovering from his medication-induced nap."
Another crash echoed from the house, followed by what sounded like multiple voices trying to calm down the raging alpha.
"Should we—" you started, moving to get up from the bed.
"NOPE!" Wooyoung declared dramatically, grabbing you around the waist and yanking you back down onto the mattress. Before you could protest, he'd pulled the covers up over both of your heads, creating a makeshift blanket fort. "Absolutely not. I cannot handle any more possessive, angry alpha energy tonight. I have reached my quota."
"Wooyoung," you laughed, trying to push the blanket down. "We can't just hide under here."
"Watch me," he said firmly, his arms tightening around you. "This is my safe space. No angry alphas allowed. Only cuddles and the lingering scent of jasmine and vanilla."
Another furious roar from Mingi made the windows rattle, followed by what sounded suspiciously like Hongjoong's voice trying to explain himself and failing miserably.
"Oh, this is going to be good," Wooyoung said with morbid curiosity, his voice muffled by the blanket. "I'm betting Mingi throws him through a window. Twenty bucks says our fearless leader ends up in the pool."
"You're terrible," you said, but you were giggling despite the chaos erupting across the garden. "Shouldn't we be worried about them killing each other?"
"Seonghwa's there," Wooyoung said with complete confidence. "He won't let anyone actually die. Maim, maybe. Severely injure, possibly. But no actual death. He's very responsible that way."
As if to punctuate his point, they could hear Seonghwa's voice cutting through the chaos with sharp authority, though the words were too muffled to make out clearly.
"See?" Wooyoung said smugly. "Mom's handling it. We can stay in our blanket fort of denial and pretend everything is fine."
"This is the most ridiculous crisis management strategy I've ever encountered," you said, but you weren't making any real effort to leave the safety of the covers.
"It's not ridiculous, it's strategic," Wooyoung corrected. "I have successfully removed us from the equation, thereby preventing any additional emotional trauma for my precious omega who has already been through enough tonight."
His arms squeezed you gently, and despite his playful tone, you could hear the underlying protectiveness in his words. He really was trying to shield you from more conflict, even if his method was utterly chaotic.
"Besides," he added with a mischievous grin you could hear in his voice, "this way we get front row seats to the drama without any of the risk. It's like reality TV, but with more property damage."
Another crash echoed from the main house, followed by what sounded like Yunho's voice shouting something about "everyone just calming down for five minutes."
"Your pack is insane," you said fondly, settling more comfortably against Wooyoung's chest.
"Our pack," he corrected firmly. "You're stuck with us now, remember? No take-backs. You already unpacked your suitcase."
The reminder of your decision to stay sent a warm flutter through your chest, even as the sounds of chaos continued to drift across the garden.
"I love you," you said softly, the words still feeling new and precious on your tongue.
"I love you too," Wooyoung replied, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head through the blanket. "Even if you did almost give me a heart attack with that whole packing-to-leave stunt."
"I'm sorry," you said, meaning it. "I was hurt and scared and—"
"Hey," Wooyoung interrupted gently. "No apologies necessary. You had every right to be upset. Our pack leader was being a complete disaster."
From the main house came the sound of what might have been a door slamming, followed by blessed quiet.
"Think they're done?" you asked hopefully.
"Probably just moved the fight outside," Wooyoung replied cheerfully. "Or Seonghwa locked them in separate rooms until they can behave like civilized humans."
"Should we check on them?"
"In the morning," Wooyoung declared firmly. "Right now, we're staying exactly where we are, safe in our blanket fortress, far away from any more alpha drama."
And despite the lingering sounds of conflict from across the garden, wrapped in Wooyoung's arms under the ridiculous safety of your blanket fort, you had to admit his strategy wasn't entirely without merit.
The guesthouse door suddenly burst open with such force that it bounced off the wall, and you heard Mingi's frantic voice calling your name, followed by the sound of multiple footsteps rushing into your space.
"Shh," Wooyoung whispered urgently under the covers, his arms tightening around you. "If we don't move, maybe they can't see us."
"That's not how—" you started to whisper back, but it was too late.
The blanket was suddenly ripped away from both of you with dramatic flair, leaving you blinking in the sudden light. Wooyoung let out a theatrical gasp, clutching the sheet to his chest with exaggerated modesty.
"I could have been indecent under here!" he declared with mock outrage. "What if I was naked? What if you traumatized yourselves? I'm not responsible for any emotional scarring that might result from seeing my magnificent—"
"Wooyoung," Seonghwa's tired voice cut him off. "You're fully clothed."
"That's not the point," Wooyoung huffed. "It's about the principle of the thing. The potential for indecency. The—"
His rambling was cut short as Mingi moved with lightning speed, reaching down and hauling you up from the bed before anyone could react. You let out a surprised squeak, instinctively wrapping your arms and legs around his tall frame as he lifted you completely off the ground.
The moment you were in his arms, Mingi buried his face in your neck, breathing in your unblocked scent with desperate relief. His whole body was trembling as he held you, his grip almost painfully tight.
"I thought you would be gone," he whispered against your throat, his voice broken and raw. "Yunho told me what happened, what he said to you, and I thought—I was so terrified that you'd left. That I'd wake up and you'd be gone forever."
Looking around the room over Mingi's shoulder, you saw the faces of your other mates, and they all looked just as frightened as Mingi sounded. Yunho's usual brightness was dimmed with worry, San's hands were shaking slightly, Yeosang's composed mask had slipped to reveal genuine fear, Jongho looked like he'd been crying, and Seonghwa's face was etched with exhaustion and relief.
But it was the figure in the doorway that made your heart break.
Hongjoong stood just outside the threshold of your space, his head bowed, shoulders hunched with guilt and shame. He didn't enter, didn't cross into your sanctuary, just stood there like he was afraid he'd contaminate everything with his presence.
"Hongjoong," you said softly, and his head snapped up, hope and pain warring in his expression.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, his voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry, Y/n. I was—there's no excuse for what I said. How I treated you. I understand if you can't forgive me."
The raw anguish in his voice, the way he held himself apart like he didn't deserve to be in the same room as you, made tears spring to your eyes.
"So," Wooyoung said loudly, clearly trying to lighten the devastating mood, "was Sleeping Beauty awakened by true love's kiss?" He winked dramatically at Yunho, who rolled his eyes but looked fondly exasperated.
"This isn't the time, Wooyoung," Yunho said softly, though there was affection in his tone.
"There's always time for classic fairy tale references," Wooyoung replied stubbornly, but his usual sparkle was dimmed by the heavy emotions filling the room.
Mingi finally pulled back enough to look at your face, his eyes red-rimmed and desperate. "You're really staying? You're not leaving us?"
"I'm staying," you assured him, reaching up to cup his face with gentle hands. "I'm not going anywhere."
The relief that washed over his features was so profound it was almost painful to witness. He pressed his forehead against yours, breathing shakily.
"I can't lose you," he whispered. "I can't. You're everything."
Your heart clenched at the raw vulnerability in his voice, at the fear still lingering in all their faces, at Hongjoong's continued self-imposed exile in the doorway.
"Mingi," you said gently, stroking his cheek as he continued to hold you against his chest. "I need you to put me down so we can all talk about this properly."
"No," Mingi said immediately, his arms tightening around you. "Not letting go. Not ever."
"I'm not going anywhere," you assured him. "I'll stay right here, I promise. But we need to figure this out, all of us together."
Reluctantly, Mingi lowered you to the ground, but immediately wrapped his arms around you from behind, his chin resting on top of your head. Clearly, physical contact was non-negotiable.
The room fell into heavy silence, everyone looking between you and Hongjoong, who remained in the doorway like he was afraid to contaminate your space with his presence.
"Hongjoong," you said softly, and his head snapped up, hope and pain warring in his expression.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, his voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry, Y/n. What I said was unforgivable."
"It was hurtful," you agreed, and you saw him flinch. "But not unforgivable. We just... we need to figure out how to do better."
Hongjoong stepped into the room, his leader instincts warring with his guilt. "You're right. We do." His voice was steadier now, more like the pack leader they all knew. "I let my alpha override my judgment. That can't happen again."
"Well," Wooyoung announced, clapping his hands together to break the tension, "family meeting time! Should I take minutes? I feel like we should document this historic moment of emotional growth and communication."
"Wooyoung," Seonghwa said with fond exasperation.
"What? I'm being helpful! Very secretary-like. Very professional." Wooyoung mimed writing on an invisible notepad. "Meeting commenced at... chaos o'clock. Attendees include: six very stressed alphas, one relieved omega, and one alpha leader who temporarily forgot how words work."
Despite the heavy atmosphere, several of the members cracked small smiles at Wooyoung's antics.
"The issue," Hongjoong said, his leader voice returning as he processed the situation, "is that my alpha has been in overdrive since the mate bonds activated. Every perceived threat to you, every challenge to pack stability, triggers an instinctual response that overrides rational thought."
"So what do we do about it?" Yunho asked genuinely.
Hongjoong ran a hand through his hair, his analytical mind working through the problem. "I need better coping mechanisms. Ways to recognize when my alpha is taking over and step back before I say something destructive."
"That would be helpful," you said carefully, not wanting to attack but needing to be honest. "Because when you get like that, you stop seeing me as a person and start seeing me as... a problem to solve."
Hongjoong's jaw clenched, not with anger but with self-directed frustration. "You're not a problem. You're never a problem. You're..." He struggled for words. "You're everything good about this pack, and I keep trying to control that instead of just being grateful for it."
"What if our alphas are being stupid?" San asked, looking between you and Hongjoong.
"Then we take responsibility for it," Hongjoong said firmly, his leader voice carrying authority again. "We don't make excuses or blame biology. We own our mistakes and do better."
"Does this mean group hugs are mandatory?" Wooyoung asked hopefully. "Because I vote for mandatory group hugs. Very therapeutic. Much bonding."
"Wooyoung," you said with fond exasperation, "you can't solve everything with hugs."
"Have you tried?" he countered. "Because I haven't found a problem yet that couldn't be improved with the right application of physical affection and my natural charm."
"Your natural charm?" Yunho repeated with a snort. "Is that what we're calling your ability to annoy people into submission?"
"It's a gift," Wooyoung said with dignity. "Not everyone can be blessed with my level of irresistible personality."
The light banter was helping to ease some of the tension in the room, and you could feel the pack bonds settling into something more stable.
"The bottom line," Hongjoong said, taking control of the conversation again, "is that we need better communication. All of us. And I need to learn to step back when my instincts are overriding my common sense."
"I can help with that," Seonghwa offered. "Call you out when you're spiraling."
"We all can," Yeosang added. "Pack accountability."
Hongjoong nodded, accepting the input with the grace of a leader who knew when to listen to his team.
"Good," you said, then looked around the room. "Any questions? Concerns? Dramatic declarations?"
"I have a dramatic declaration!" Wooyoung raised his hand enthusiastically. "I dramatically declare that this has been the most emotionally exhausting evening of my life, and I demand compensatory cuddles from our omega."
"You can't demand cuddles," Yeosang pointed out. "That defeats the purpose of cuddles."
"Fine," Wooyoung said with a theatrical sigh. "I dramatically request voluntary cuddles, to be given at the omega's discretion and comfort level."
Despite everything, you found yourself smiling. "I think that can be arranged."
"But yes, Mingi gets first priority tonight. He's been through a lot."
"We all have," Jongho said quietly, and the truth of that statement settled over the room.
"Well," San said with a mischievous grin, "technically Mingi got to have sex with you and then take a nice medicated nap. So really, he's had the best evening out of all of us."
Mingi's arms tightened around you possessively. "That's not—it wasn't like that—"
"Oh please," Wooyoung interjected dramatically, throwing himself into the conversation. "It was my heroics and tales of IKEA adventures that got her to stay! I should have her all night as a reward for my superior charm and storytelling abilities."
"Your IKEA story?" Mingi scoffed. "I'm the one who—"
"Who what? Had a rut-induced breakdown?" Wooyoung shot back with a teasing grin. "Very romantic. Much wooing."
"That's it," Mingi growled playfully, releasing you suddenly to lunge at Wooyoung. "Come here, you dramatic little—"
Wooyoung shrieked with delighted laughter, darting around the small room as Mingi chased after him. "Help! I'm being attacked by a giant! This is what I get for being helpful!"
The other members watched with fond amusement as the two alphas engaged in their playful wrestling match, the tension in the room dissolving into something lighter and more familiar.
While everyone was distracted by the chaos, you quietly slipped away from the group and moved toward Hongjoong, who was still standing somewhat apart from the others. His eyes widened slightly as you approached, surprise and hope flickering across his features.
Without a word, you stepped into his space and nuzzled into his neck, breathing in his familiar sandalwood and ocean scent as you gently scented him. You felt him go completely still beneath your touch, as if he couldn't quite believe you were choosing to come to him.
"I love you," you whispered against his throat, the words barely audible but carrying all the forgiveness and affection you felt for your complicated pack leader.
Hongjoong stiffened for just a moment before his arms came up to wrap around you tightly, pulling you against his chest as if you were something precious he'd thought he'd lost forever. He buried his face in your hair, breathing in your scent with shaky relief.
"I love you too," he whispered back, his voice rough with emotion. "So much. I'm so sorry, I love you so much it makes me stupid sometimes."
You felt him scenting you in return, his alpha finally settling into something peaceful as your combined scents created that perfect harmony that meant home, safety, love.
Behind you, Wooyoung's dramatic complaints about being "brutally attacked by a giant teddy bear" continued, but in this moment, wrapped in Hongjoong's arms, everything felt like it was going to be okay.
You died a horrible death. Torn to shreds and burnt to a crisp by the very dragon you had saved out of pity and raised by your side.
You: Fucking finally
A young Sylus was rescued from the verge of death by a little bird. She carefully nursed him back to health, healing his crippled and ugly body, curing his self-loathing and paranoia. She didn't despise him for his horrible appearance, or fear him for being a monster. She loved him wholeheartedly, always smiling and showering him with kisses. Each time, Sylus felt a mixture of helplessness and pity as his love for her deepened. Dragons are destined to destroy what they love. But how could he not be deeply devoted and loyal to her, loving her to the core?
What Sylus didn't know was that the girl was a phoenix. Proud, beautiful creatures who must die and be reborn in flames.
And you wanted nothing more than to die by dragonfire .
Dragon!Sylus x Phoenix!Reader AU
A/N: excuse poor formatting bc I'm on a bus and NEEDED to get this idea out before class. You know the drill, time is a social construct, blah blah aether cores and main story don't exist. Fluff and comfort(?), ANGST (mostly just sylus tho), poor reader miscalculated, oops, Sylus is in for a world of hurt. If peeps are interested, this would be fun to write into a full length fic hehe
Imagine you're the first phoenix to hatch in Philos in over a millennia! And with your parents long dead and your sister (mc) chasing after a fish (<- sorry rafayel fans), possibly the last of your kind. It's all fun and games until you realize 1. you aren't immortal, and 2. you can't even fly. Your sister tells you that in order to become a true phoenix, you need to be reborn from ashes. Thus, you set off to find a fire big enough to get past your regular-flame proof feathers. Shivering on your way to find a mythical volcano to throw yourself into, you pick up a wounded lizard as company. He's a prickly little thing, scarred from years of being hunted down by humans and other creatures alike. You're about to give up on trying to heal him when you accidentally find out he's the last Philoean dragon...
Imagine you've hit jackpot!!! Your sister told you that the ancient dragon clan of Philos had a secret: when a young dragon's love for someone becomes deeply rooted enough, scales will grow over their heart, blocking the source of their affection. When that happens, they will develop an unsurmountable desire to brutally kill their beloved. The blood of their loved one nourishes the dragon's instincts, allowing them to finally ascend to immortality, and granting them unlimited power.
It's a win-win situation, really.
Imagine you knew that Sylus had already developed scales on his heart, yet he endured the heart-wrenching pain. Every full moon, he would hid himself deep in a cave and tear open his own chest, desperately pulling out the continuously growing scales. He used iron chains to restrain his hands that itch to commit unspeakable evil to you, doing everything he could to fight against his dragon instinct.
"Y/N, Don't come in!"
"I'll be ok in just a minute, be a good birdie, wait outside for me."
"I'm begging you, stay back, please, please, don't come in!!"
Imagine you stand outside the entrance to his lair, listening to the sound of claws scraping against bone. Your chest throbs. The two of us ascending is better than neither of us, you think.
So you walk in anyways.
You hold him close as you usually do, placing a delicate kiss on his trembling lips, gently wiping away the tears from the corners of his eyes.
Imagine the next time you open your eyes, you're reborn an unknown number of years later. After initially rejoicing over your luxurious new feathers and lightness on your feet, you're forced to take upon a human appearance as you navigate this dangerous new world filled with wanderers and evols. Your joyful reunion with your sister is cut short as the Hunter association is waging a war against the leader of Onychinus, trying to prevent the syndicate leader from using protocores to activate an ancient summoning array.
Legend has it that he was the most powerful demon in the world, who accidentally killed his beloved wife ten thousand years ago. He has since been trapped in the deepest hell of his own making, traversing the path of suffering and vindication.
