here for the fanfics

It feels like the kitchen is blanketed by a cloud of tense air – one that electrifies the moment Jimin extends his hand past Taehyung's plate to reach for the salt. The low, short growl that immediately echoes within the walls of the kitchen makes you freeze, your skin instinctively breaking out in goosebumps at the guttural sound. Jimin's hand halts midair, his eyes flickering straight to Namjoon's fangs poking just past his lips.

"Right," Jimin huffs, ears flattening on his head, "sorry."

The annoyed flick of his tail behind his back tells you that he probably isn't, but he knows better than to argue with a protective alpha near his rut.

The wolf hybrid's golden eyes track Jimin's fingers as he slowly brings them back to his side, not even blinking until they're out of Taehyung's personal space. He shakes his head lightly once the perceived threat to his pack is gone, mumbling a gruff half-apology for startling the table.

You let out a slow breath, loosening the tight grip on your spoon. You catch yourself picking up your own pace as you eat, mirroring the others. The sooner you all finish eating, the sooner everyone has a chance to escape to their own corners of the house. You can tell Namjoon is itching to drag his packmates back to their room, their den, where it's safe.

"You guys can go first, we'll clean up everything," You say once the plates are scraped clean, giving the canines the out you know Namjoon is looking for. You're not quite sure why they insisted on one final shared dinner before their rut, but you do like to think that perhaps they've come to enjoy the familiarity and routine more than they realize themselves.

"Thank you," Namjoon shoots to his feet, nearly knocking his chair over, as he quickly corals Taehyung and Hoseok towards the door. He makes sure his packmates are out of sight from the kitchen before he pauses, tail tucking between his legs. Namjoon gives you a look over his shoulder, his back tense as if expecting a blow, as he softly asks, "Will you be joining us?"

"Of course," You nod, giving him a reassuring smile. "I just need to clean up here and take a shower first. I won't be long. Promise."

Namjoon's tail gives a few wags, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he nods and says, "Thank you. We'll, uh, get everything ready for you."

Yoongi is the first to break the silence once Namjoon closes the door to their room with a soft click. "God, it reeks in here."

"Seriously?" You roll your eyes at the over-the-top expression of disgust on his face.

"Yeah," Jungkook grimaces, jumping out of his chair to open the window above the sink. You can see his tail quiver as he breathes in some fresh air, "They have a very um, strong, scent."

"It's abrasive." Seokjin adds with a wince as he starts collecting some of the plates on the table. "It's supposed to be. It's there to chase away those you don't want to spend it with."

"It's even worse because they're not mated yet," Jimin interjects. "It's like a stink bomb went off in here."

"I don't remember you being this appalled by Seokjin and Jungkook's scent before their rut. Did they smell better because they're mated?" You direct your question at Jimin and Yoongi, not missing the quick glance that passes between them.

Yoongi shrugs. "Yes and no? That does help, but preys just smell much milder overall." He bites the inside of his cheek, a small furrow appearing between his brows as he admits, "Honestly, I think we were too worried to really notice it."

"Ah Jungkook, did you hear that?" Seokjin whispers loudly, plastering himself over the bunny hybrid's back with a dramatic swoon. "Yoongi-chi was concerned about us. What a sweet kitty."

"Shut up," Yoongi hisses. He swats at Jimin's arm as his packmate snickers at him behind his hand, mumbling something about betrayal as he moves to clear off the final dishes from the table.

Jungkook lets out a giggle, cheeks flushed as he sweetly says, "Thank you for being worried, Yoongi hyung."

You have to stifle your own laughter as Yoongi nearly trips, his feline reflexes just enough to keep him crashing into the counter. You can tell that the way his tail bristles is more for show than anything else, his voice taking on a softer tilt as he grumbles, "S'nothing."

"Ah, Y/n–" Seokjin waddles over with Jungkook still trapped in his arms, grinning at how the bunny hybrid pretends to break out of his hold. "We'll make sure to provide all the meals you need and leave them outside of the door. I'm sure the boys have everything else ready, but just let us know if there's anything you need."

"That's very sweet, thank you," You rest your hand on Seokjin's cheek, giving the hamster hybrid a peck. You quickly duck down with a smile as you hear Jungkook's whine, giving him a kiss too. You let yourself be pulled into the bunny hybrid's arms, the angle a little awkward, but sweet nonetheless. Your heart feels a little heavy knowing you won't be able to see them for a few days, but you know they can care for themselves and each other well at this point. You'll just miss them.

"Hyung and I are going to sleep in the living room. We figure it'd be best to give all of you some space." Jungkook mumbles against your skin, rubbing his nose against your cheek.

"That's not going to be very comfortable, why can't you just sleep in my–"

Your idea is turned down by four voices at once. "No," Seokjin shakes his head. "We'll be fine in the living room. We'll be closer that way."

"Alright, if you insist."

You give both of them another peck before Seokjin wrangles Jungkook away, letting the cat hybrids have their own turn at kissing you goodnight.

Jimin slides up to you with an exaggerated pout, batting his eyes all pretty until you give in and pull him in for a kiss. Soft purrs erupt in his chest as you stroke the nape of his neck, his lips eventually trailing their way down your neck, his soft hair tickling your skin. "Wish I could mark you up," He sighs, brushing his lips against your collarbone, "But I'd like to keep all of my nine lives intact so I'll refrain. For now."

"Is that a promise?" You grin. Based on the smirk Jimin gives you in return, you know you're going to have one hell of a time trying to make your neck look presentable once he's done with you. That is, if there's any skin left for him to even mark after you spent the next two days with the canines.

"Stop hogging her, she needs to get ready," Yoongi pulls Jimin back by his shirt, sending the disgruntled younger cat hybrid off with a pat on his ass.

Yoongi pulls you into a firm hug, layering his scent on top of Jimin and Jungkook's even though he knows it's going to get washed off soon. The instinct to lay some kind of claim is too great, especially when he knows you're spending the night with another pack. He leans back, giving you a kiss that feels much too short before he says, "Just call for us and we'll be right there, whatever the reason."

"Thank you," You nod, pulling him back in for another brief kiss.

You know it's time to slip away when Jungkook starts whining about getting another kiss – you'll never escape if they do.

A soft "sleep well" falls from your lips as you make your way to the door, but fingers – Seokjin's – wrap around your wrist, holding you in place for just a moment longer. He leans in close, his warm breath tickling the shell of your ear as he murmurs, "Be a good girl." 

Heat rushes to your cheeks immediately, spreading down your neck and making the tips of your ears burn. You duck your head with a squeak, ignoring the low, pleased chuckle he lets out at your reaction. You slip your hand free, scurrying out of the room before the others can catch on to Seokjin's little comment. You're already flustered enough as it is, thank you very much.

You take a quick shower, adjusting the temperature until it's almost too hot to bear. The scalding water beats down on you as you work quickly but thoroughly, scrubbing away the day and any lingering scents clinging to your skin. Despite the steam that billows around the bathroom as you rinse, you find that your fingers tremble so hard it makes you fumble with the shower knob – a mixture of anticipation and nerves that has the butterflies in your stomach thrashing about. This isn't your first experience with a rut, but being with someone new always carries an air of vulnerability. Still, as you wrap yourself in a towel, you take a steadying breath. The boys have shown nothing but care and compassion for you so far and you know this will be no different. If anything, they're probably just as nervous to have someone new join them for their rut.

After slipping into a soft, oversized t-shirt, you make your way downstairs, your footsteps barely audible against the floorboards. The door to the canines' room is cracked open, and you can hear the gentle rumble of voices inside—low, hesitant.

You pause by the doorway, your pulse racing beneath your skin, and draw in a steadying breath. You can do this. You want to do this.

Gently, you push the door open. The room is dimly lit, warm and inviting and so them. You haven't been able to spend much time in the boys' rooms lately, with work and other obligations pulling you away, limiting your time spent beyond the common rooms in the house. Your heart does a happy squeeze at what you see – posters and pictures on what used to be bare walls, pillows and blankets covering almost every surface for maximum comfort and items carefully scattered about in a way you know is intentional. They finally feel comfortable – at home – and that's all you ever wanted.

The moment you cross the threshold, three sets of eyes are on you, warm and waiting. Taehyung is the first to move, crossing the small space in two strides to bury his face in your neck. His hands settle on your waist, pulling you close as he breathes you in, nose brushing the sensitive skin just below your ear. "You smell clean," he murmurs, not unhappily, just stating facts. "We'll fix that."

"Taehyung," Hoseok chides, gently pulling on one of the fox hybrid's ears as he joins the embrace from behind. His chest presses against your back, steady and solid, grounding. You feel the flutter of his heartbeat through the thin fabric of his shirt.

Namjoon hovers at the edge, watching with soft eyes, until you reach out and tug him in. He comes willingly, slotting himself against your side with a quiet, relieved sigh. They take turns scenting you, rubbing their cheeks against your shoulders, your throat, your wrists. Marking you as theirs, as pack, at least for the coming days.

Taehyung is the first to pull back, his auburn tail swishing playfully side to side as he says, "Water and snacks are on the desk over there. There's some towels too."

"Though," he adds with a sly grin, glancing at Namjoon, "You probably won't need them. Hyung likes it when it gets a little messy."

"That's not-" Namjoon's ears flatten, then perk forward again, betraying him. A flush creeps up his neck. "I just like how strong the scents get. When we're all mixed together, y'know?"

"Sure," You concede, trying (and failing) to suppress a snort at how flustered he sounds.

"Fair warning, Hobi hyung likes to be in control when our rut hits," Taehyung adds, his tail swishing with barely contained amusement. You decide it's better to ignore the image your brain so helpfully conjures up, trying to suppress the warmth that spreads through your belly.

All of that is for tomorrow. Tonight is for rest.

Their rut hasn't officially begun, but the pre-rut tension has been wearing on them for days. You can see it in the tightness around their eyes, the way they lean into each other and you for support.

"I think it's time for bed," You gently say, steering them toward the mattress piled high with pillows and blankets. "Everything else can wait."

They go easily, too tired to even consider anything else. Taehyung crawls in first, patting the space beside him. You climb in after him, getting yourself situated in the middle of the bed. You figure the boys will just move you wherever they see fit – it's their nest, so you want them to be comfortable.

Hoseok hesitates at the edge of the bed, fingers catching on the hem of his shirt. The self-consciousness is subtle - he's better at hiding it than he used to be - but you catch the way his shoulders curve inward, the slight tremor in his hands. His tail is tucked firmly between his legs.

When he finally lifts the fabric over his head, he doesn't meet your gaze. You look at him, see the lean muscle of his torso, the faint scars that decorate his skin. His tail is tucked tight against his legs, the tip trembling slightly.

"Oh Hobi," You say softly. "Come here."

He sinks onto the bed beside you, and you take his hand, tracing the calluses on his palm with your thumb.

"I'm proud of you," You say, keeping your voice low enough that the others have to lean in to hear. Taehyung props his chin on your shoulder, soft hair tickling your neck. Namjoon settles against the headboard, watching with heavy-lidded eyes.

"I know it’s not easy, but I’m glad you trust me enough to show me this. I won't pry, this isn't the time or the place for that, but know that I'm here if you ever want to tell me about it." You squeeze his hand.

Hoseok's breath catches. His eyes shine in the dim light, wet and grateful, and he ducks his head to hide the emotion you already saw.

"Thank you," He whispers, rough around the edges. His golden tail gives a small wag.

"Thank you," You correct, and press a kiss to his temple.

The bed shifts as Namjoon finally gives in to gravity, stretching out on Hoseok's other side with a rumbling yawn. Taehyung wiggles down until he's level with you, tangling his legs with yours, his tail thumping lazy beats against the mattress.

You settle between Taehyung and Hoseok, Namjoon's hand finding yours across Hoseok's waist. The pack breathes around you, slow and synchronized, their warmth seeping into your bones.

"Sleep well," Namjoon mumbles, already half-gone, his nose buried in Hoseok's hair.

"Goodnight," You murmur, fitting yourself under Hoseok's jaw.

Tomorrow, the rut will take them. But tonight, there is only the steady rhythm of Taehyung's heartbeat against your back, the soft puffs of Hoseok's breath against your hair, and Namjoon's pleased deep rumblings to lull you to sleep.

The whimpering starts just before dawn. Soft, desperate, right against your ear. You blink awake in the dark, sheets rustling as Namjoon shifts beside you. Hoseok must have shifted in the middle of the night, moving you closer to the wolf hybrid.

Namjoon's breath comes in short, shaky bursts, his body radiating enough heat for you to feel it even though you're not touching. Despite the dim light, you can see the flush spreading down his chest, the sheen of sweat on his throat, the way his jaw keeps clenching and unclenching like he's trying to hold something back.

"Joon?" You whisper.

"Sorry," He rumbles, and his voice is wrecked already, rough and broken. "Sorry, I didn't-it's starting."

You push up on one elbow. His eyes catch the gray morning light, blown wide and glassy, pupils blown so large the warm brown barely shows. His hips twitch upward, seeking friction, and the outline of his cock strains against the cotton, thick and obvious.

"Do you want help?"

His gaze meets yours, and there's something feral in it, something that makes your breath catch. "Please."

You tug his boxers down, and his cock springs free, flushed dark and wet at the tip, curving up toward his stomach, the base already thickening. He groans as the cool air hits him, and you can hear the soft thump of his tail against the mattress.

As you move to straddle him, Namjoon sits up in a rush, hands gripping your hips with surprising strength. He pulls you forward onto his thigh instead, your core settling against the firm muscle, and grinds you down as he kisses you, his cock hot and hard against your hip. You gasp against his lips, overwhelmed by how desperate he already feels. Maybe you'd be embarrassed by how quickly it turns you on if Namjoon wasn't just as needy.

You let your hands explore his body, mapping out the feel of his chest, his shoulders, the way his back muscles move as he guides your hips. The wolf hybrid sets a rhythm that you almost struggle to follow, still a little dazed from just having woken up.

Namjoon moves his lips down your throat, scenting your neck as he rolls your clit against the firm muscle of his thigh. Your underwear is already drenched and you're doing all you can to stifle your moans as the friction builds. It's still early – too early – to wake the others up if you can help it, and yet–

"Well," Hoseok's voice is rough with sleep and something else, "That's quite the wake-up call."

You freeze in surprise, but Namjoon's grip tightens, fingers digging into your hips, keeping you moving against his thigh.

"Hoseok," He whines, and the sound is pure need, desperate and raw.

"Don't stop on my account."

The mattress dips as Hoseok moves closer, and the look in his eyes seems almost more predatory than the wolf in front of you.

"Grind on him," He instructs, low and firm, watching you with dark eyes. "Get yourself there first, Y/n."

You roll your hips harder, the friction perfect, the pressure of Namjoon's cock against your hip a tease that makes you whimper. The rhythm builds slowly, each rock of your hips dragging a ragged breath from your lungs. Namjoon's hands steady you, his own hips pushing up to meet yours even through the layers still between you.

Hoseok's hand slides down, wrapping around Namjoon, stroking him in time with your movements. The dual sensation, the slide of your clothed heat against Namjoon's hip and the wet sound of Hoseok's fist working him, sends sparks up your spine. Namjoon's head falls back, throat exposed, whines turning to broken, guttural moans that vibrate through his chest into yours.

Your orgasm builds like a wave you can't outrun, pressure coiling tight in your belly. You chase it, hips stuttering, grinding down harder, faster, until the friction hits exactly right and your vision whites out. You cry out, shuddering through the pulse of release, your body going limp against Namjoon's chest as aftershocks ripple through you.

Hoseok's hand stills, thumb lingering at Namjoon's base. He watches you come down, breath still uneven, pupils blown wide. "Still with me?" he asks, voice gentler now, checking.

You nod, trembling, and he smiles, soft and knowing.

"Want to take him inside?" He murmurs, giving you the choice. "Ride him when you're ready, pretty girl."

The question makes Namjoon whine, a needy sound that vibrates through his chest. His hands find your thighs, thumbs stroking, waiting - asking with his touch.

You look down at him, at the blown pupils, the flush across his cheeks, the way his lip catches between his teeth. "Yeah," You breathe, the decision settling warm in your belly. "Yeah, I want to."

Namjoon's warm hands lift you then, helping you remove your shirt and underwear. The wolf hybrid guides your hips, and you sink down onto his cock in one smooth motion, too wet to meet any resistance. You both gasp at the stretch, the heat of him filling you, the pressure of that swelling knot already catching at your entrance. He groans, forehead dropping to your shoulder, his whole body trembling beneath you.

"Fuck," He breathes against your neck. "You feel-"

"Don't stop," You whisper, and he doesn't, rolling his hips up to meet yours, setting a rhythm that's already too much and not enough, the knot tugging at you with every movement, not locked yet but promising.

You lose yourself in the motion, the slide of him filling you, the way his hands grip your hips like you're the only thing anchoring him. His mouth finds yours, kiss deepening as he thrusts up, swallowing your gasp, his tongue sliding against yours with the same rhythm his body sets below. You break apart breathless, foreheads pressed together, and he smiles, soft and wrecked, before trailing kisses down your jaw, your throat, teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver.

Each thrust sends sparks up your spine, your breath coming in ragged gasps, your nails digging crescents into his shoulders. The heat builds, coiling tight in your belly, and you're chasing it, grinding down to meet him, the friction perfect, desperate, close-

A hard thrust sends pleasure sparking up your spine, and your head falls back, eyes drifting to the movement you catch out of the corner of your eye.

The dog hybrid's attention has shifted to his other packmate. Hoseok has settled behind Taehyung, chest to back. You can see the fox hybrid's breath hitch at the sudden warmth, can see the way confusion softens into something hungry as he takes in the scene before him, blinking awake. Hoseok's hand runs down his spine, slow and deliberate, and his lips brush Taehyung's ear.

"Taehyungie," He murmurs. "You with me?"

Taehyung nods, pushing back into him, and Hoseok's smile is soft, knowing. He runs his hand down the length of Taehyung's auburn tail, making the fox hybrid arch his back with a low groan.

Hoseok turns Taehyung's face toward his, catching his mouth in a kiss that starts gentle and deepens, tongues sliding, Taehyung's hand coming up to cup Hoseok's jaw like he's grounding himself in it. Hoseok's thumb traces Taehyung's lower lip as they break apart, his gaze lifting to meet yours.

"That's it," Hoseok murmurs, and you realize he's watching you watch them, his gaze dark, knowing. "Just like that."

You watch, transfixed, as Hoseok's fingers find Taehyung, two of them sinking in deep, working him open with slow movements. Taehyung's face turns into the pillow, breath hitching with every push, his hips rocking back to meet Hoseok's hand. Hoseok leans down to press kisses along his shoulder, his spine, murmuring praise against his skin even as he stretches him wider.

He adds a third finger, and Taehyung's moan breaks against the pillow, obscene and wet and desperate. The sound makes you clench down harder around Namjoon's cock, making both of you groan.

You see the moment Hoseok decides he's ready - the way his hand withdraws, the way he lines himself up, the way Taehyung gasps as he pushes in. Namjoon's eyes fly open, gaze finding Taehyung's across the bed, and something passes between them, some silent communication that makes Namjoon's hips stutter, his grip on you tighten, his own knot thickening inside you with every thrust.

Namjoon cranes his neck, seeking your mouth, and you meet him halfway, kiss messy and desperate, his hand coming up to cradle your face like you're something precious even as his body moves beneath yours with increasing urgency. You break apart gasping, and he moves his mouth down your throat, nipping and soothing the skin with his tongue.

Hoseok rocks his hips slowly, his knot dragging against Taehyung's rim with every withdrawal, making him shudder. You can't look away - the slap of skin against skin, Taehyung's fingers white-knuckled in the sheets, the way Hoseok hips snap forward with precision, finding some spot inside his packmate that makes him cry out every time.

Namjoon's hand finds your breast, thumb circling your nipple, and you're already close, tension coiling low and tight, building with every roll of your hips, every tug of the wolf hybrid's swelling knot catching at your entrance.

"Good?" Hoseok asks, voice rough, checking in with you even as his hips snap forward, drawing a cry from Taehyung. He seems to know exactly how to turn the fox hybrid into putty in his hands.

You nod, overwhelmed, and his smile is sharp, pleased.

"Touch yourself," He says, softer now, almost gentle. "Want to see you."

You slip your hand between your legs, fingers finding where you're stretched around Namjoon. You're wet and sensitive, his knot is fully formed now, a thick bulge that catches and tugs with every movement.

"Shit– Can I knot you? Please?" Namjoon half-growls, ear pinned back with the small amount of restraint he has left.

"Yeah," Your moan turns into a squeal as Namjoon somehow sets an even faster pace.

The sounds filling the room, the way Namjoon's muscles flex beneath you as he moves, the slide of your own fingers against your clit - it's overwhelming, too much.

You come with a cry, your body tightening around Namjoon. He groans, thrusting up into you through your orgasm, and then he's coming too, knot swelling impossibly larger, locking you together. His hips jerk in short, helpless thrusts as he spills inside you, filling you, his forehead pressed to your shoulder, whining high and broken through his release.

Taehyung twists beneath Hoseok, reaching back to pull him deeper, and Hoseok's rhythm falters, his knot catching, locking him to Taehyung as he comes with a ragged groan, burying himself to the hilt. He drops his forehead to Taehyung's back, catching his breath. 

The fox hybrid follows, spilling over his own stomach with a cry, and for a long moment there's only the sound of harsh breathing, the pulse of Namjoon's knot where you're joined, the impossible intimacy of being tied together.

You can't move, locked to Namjoon while he softens slowly, the knot keeping you pressed close, his arms wrapped around you, his face buried in your neck. Across the bed, Hoseok and Taehyung are similarly tangled, Hoseok's hips still making small, involuntary thrusts as he comes down, Taehyung shivering beneath him.

The space smells of sweat and sex and pack, thick and heady. Namjoon is still hard inside you, still locked, his breath hot against your skin. When the knot finally releases, enough to pull free, you both groan at the loss, at the wet rush that follows. But Namjoon is still trembling, still needy, his cock already stirring again against his thigh.

"Still?" Taehyung laughs, low and rough from where he's collapsed nearby. "Want me to come over there and take care of that?"

Namjoon shudders, flustered, pressing his face harder into your shoulder. "Later."

The next hours pass in a blur, bodies shifting and resettling, the room growing hotter as the afternoon stretches on. You're drifting somewhere between waking and not when you notice Hoseok beside you, Namjoon's arms wrapped around him from behind, his face buried in Hoseok's neck.

The dog hybrid's bare chest catches the golden light, and you trace one of the thin scars there without thinking.

"Still handsome," You murmur. He huffs a quiet laugh, pleased, and catches your hand to press a kiss to your palm. You can hear the muted thuds of his tail against Namjoon's leg.

Taehyung crawls over you then, heavy-lidded and warm, his hair mussed. The fox hybrid's eyes are bright despite the feverish look to his skin. His hands feel burning hot as they slowly move up your legs, parting them.

"Up for another round?" He gives you a lazy grin, fingers pressed into your hips.

"Thought you'd never ask." You tease, making yourself comfortable on your back.

He settles between your thighs, already hard, and pushes into you slowly. You feel every inch, the stretch of him, the way his breath catches when he's fully seated. His forehead drops to rest against yours. His ears are perked forward, listening to every sound you make.

"Good?" He asks, voice rough.

"Yes," You breathe, arching up to meet his next thrust. "Oh, god, keep going."

He pulls back, almost all the way out, and you feel the drag of him, the slick friction, before he pushes back in. Deep. His hips roll against yours with a filthy precision that has you gasping into his mouth. He settles on a rhythm that's unhurried, grinding against that spot inside you before pulling back to start again.

You can hear the bed shifting, the low murmur of voices, but you're too focused on the heat building between your legs. His tail teasingly brushes against your legs with every thrust, making your skin feel like it's on fire.

The fox hybrid's ears twitch when you moan.

"Look at you," Taehyung murmurs, and you force your eyes open. He's watching your face with dark fascination, his pupils blown wide, his ears perked and straining. "Look how pretty you're taking me."

He shifts his angle slightly, grinding deeper, and your moan breaks sharp and sudden.

"That's it." He groans, hips rolling harder now, losing some of that practiced control. "Let me hear you."

You do. You can't help it. Each thrust sends sparks up your spine, his cock dragging against that spot inside you with every stroke, the stretch of him perfect, the slap of skin against skin filling the room. His ears flatten, then perk, flatten again as he chases his release.

You can feel his knot building. The base of his cock thickening with every thrust, pressing against your entrance with a promise of fullness that makes you whimper. He groans at the sound, hips stuttering, snapping forward now, less rhythm, more need.

"Fuck," He breathes, "I'm gonna-"

"Do it," You gasp, and he does. He drives deep and stays there. His knot swells, locks inside you as he comes with a ragged groan spilling hot and thick. His hips jerk in short, helpless thrusts against yours, his ears flat against his skull.

You follow him over the edge. Your orgasm rolls through you in waves, your body tightening around him, milking him through each pulse. He groans into your neck, breath hot and ragged. The knot keeps him anchored, keeps you full, the stretch shifting from pleasure to something almost too much as he softens.

His weight settles heavy on you. His ears twitch, then relax, one perking half-heartedly at a sound from across the room before drooping again. You're still locked together, his knot a thick pressure keeping you full, when you hear it. Soft, wet sounds from the corner. Namjoon's voice, muffled, then Hoseok's groan, broken and desperate as he pulls back.

The dog hybrid looks wrecked as he crawls across the bed. His hair is damp at the temples, his cock hard against his stomach. Namjoon stays on his knees, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His gray ears are perked up, his tail wagging slow and satisfied.

Hoseok runs a hand up your thigh, fingers tracing where you're stretched around Taehyung, and you shiver at the contact, oversensitive. Your body aches in the best way, muscles loose and warm, but you know your limits. Hybrid stamina or not, you're only human - and you've already pushed further than you expected. Still–

"One more?" He asks, and his voice is soft, checking, but his eyes are dark, hungry. "Can you take me after?"

Taehyung makes a protesting noise, still locked inside you, but Hoseok shushes him, leaning down to kiss him slow and deep, his hand still stroking your thigh, your hip, the curve of your waist. “My turn, pup,” He murmurs against Taehyung's mouth. "Then you can have me again after. Whatever you want."

The fox hybrid's hips make a small, involuntary thrust at that, and you both groan, the knot tugging at your sensitive flesh.

"Holding you to that, hyung," Taehyung grins, lazy and satisfied.

"Of course, I wouldn’t expect anything else," Hoseok laughs, and kisses him again, filthy and deep, before turning his attention back to you.

He runs a hand up your calf, your knee, the inside of your thigh. His fingers find where you're stretched around Taehyung, where you're wet and full, and he groans at the feel of it, at the heat of you.

"Beautiful," He breathes, and his voice has gone rough, reverent. "Look how open you are for us. For me." He presses a finger alongside Taehyung's knot, testing the stretch, and you gasp, oversensitive, your hips jerking toward the sensation. He stills immediately, watching your face. "Okay?"

"Yes, yes," You gasp, and he smiles, relieved, working you slowly.

"So good," He murmurs. "Taking Taehyungie so well, and now you're going to take me too. Aren't you?"

"Please," You whisper, and he rewards you with a second finger, the stretch burning so perfectly you whimper.

"That's it," He praises, his free hand stroking your hip, your waist, the curve of your breast. 

"Let me feel you. Let me feel where he is." He's watching his own fingers move against you, fascinated, his cock twitching against his stomach with every sound you make.

"You're so wet," He murmurs, almost to himself. "So full of him. And now I'm going to fill you too."

He withdraws his fingers slowly, deliberately, and you whine at the loss. But then Taehyung's knot finally recedes, enough to slip free with a wet rush that makes you both groan, and Hoseok is there, lining himself up, pushing in before you can feel empty. He's thicker than Taehyung, or maybe you're just that sensitive, and he groans, long and low, his forehead dropping to your shoulder.

"Fuck," He breathes against your skin, his voice breaking.

"You feel- you're so-" He can't finish, his hips already moving, short thrusts that grind deep, that reaches a spot inside of you that makes your vision blur.

"Tell me," He demands, lifting his head to catch your eyes. His own are blown wide, desperate, vulnerable in a way you've never seen from him before. "Tell me how it feels."

"Full," You gasp, arching up to meet him. "So full, Hoseok, I can feel your knot-"

"Not yet," He groans, his rhythm stuttering, losing precision. "Not yet, I'm going to-" He shifts his angle, grinding against you, and his hand finds your clit, circling in time with his thrusts.

"Come with me," He begs, and there's something raw in his voice, something stripped bare.  "Please, come with me, I want to feel you."

He's swelling already, you can feel it, the thick pressure building at your entrance, the stretch of him forcing through. He groans when it catches, when he has to work it inside, the burn so intense you cry out, your nails digging into his back.

"Fuck," He gasps, "Fuck, you're so-" He bites down on your neck before he finishes, hard and claiming, not enough to break skin but enough to bruise, enough to mark you as his. 

His knot locks, pulsing thick and impossibly full, and he comes with a ragged sound against your throat, spilling hot and endless inside you, his hips making small, helpless movements while you're tied together, locked full of him.

He doesn't pull away after. He stays pressed close, his weight warm and solid, his breath hot and fast against your neck. "You're perfect," He whispers, and his voice is wrecked, raw. "Perfect. Taking us both. Taking everything we give you."

He presses kisses to your bruised throat, your jaw, your mouth, soft and reverent where before he was desperate. "Thank you," he murmurs against your lips, and it sounds like a prayer. "Thank you for letting us stay - and for being here with us."

You shake your head in silent understanding, your chest still heaving from the intense orgasm you just had.

After, when Hoseok finally slips free with a wet rush that makes you both groan, he props himself up on one elbow. His hand finds yours, fingers threading together, and he brings your knuckles to his lips. "Okay?" He asks, searching your face. "Was that- are you okay?"

"I need a break," You wince, letting out a tired laugh. "But I'm more than okay."

The dog hybrid smiles, the tension leaving his shoulders. His eyes are soft now, sated, but there's something else beneath it, something nervous and hopeful. He takes a deep breath as his tail goes limp on the bed.

Hoseok's voice shakes as he whispers, "I'm ready."

Namjoon doesn't hesitate. He can feel the shift in the air, knows just what his packmate means. He reaches out for both of them, his hands steady even as his breath comes fast. "Come here."

They move toward him without hesitation, Hoseok curling against his left side, Taehyung settling on his right, and you watch as Namjoon draws them in until all three are pressed together in a circle, foreheads touching. Hoseok's ears are flat, nervous. Namjoon's tail wraps around Taehyung's middle, his hand catches Hoseok's, anchoring them. 

The air around them feels almost delicate, sacred, in the way the afternoon light glides across their skin. You can't look away. It feels like witnessing something private, something you shouldn't see, but you know that couldn't be further from the truth. You're here because they want you to be.

"Are you sure?" Namjoon asks, and his voice is barely above a whisper, stripped of all his usual confidence. "Both of you?"

"Yes," Hoseok breathes, and he's shaking, you can see it, his hands fisting in the sheets. "I want- I've wanted this for so long. To be yours – to belong to both of you. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to admit it."

"Don't be sorry, hyung," Taehyung says, and his voice is thick, his eyes bright with tears that haven't fallen. "We would've waited forever for you."

The wolf hybrid makes a noise of agreement, his throat bobbing. He swallows, trying to steady himself, to find the certainty he needs for all of them. It doesn't come, but he moves anyway. He's the alpha. It's only right that he initiates the mating bites.

He strikes first, fast and sure, his mouth latching onto Taehyung's shoulder. It's all it takes for their instincts to take over. Hoseok's teeth seek out Namjoon's throat immediately, below the jaw where his pulse beats, a soft whine breaking from his throat. And Taehyung, trembling, follows a half-beat later, biting down on Hoseok's neck.

You wince as the blood drips down their skin. It's a flurry of limbs and tails as they quickly move to bite the packmates they haven't yet, completing their bond. Your heart aches at what you only can assume is years of wanting finally being realized - of their bond being sealed.

They stay pressed together for a while, lapping at the wounds and nosing into each other's necks. They murmur things too soft for you to hear, their ears perked and alert as they no doubt pick up on it. When they finally turn to you, their eyes are different. Softer, maybe. Or sharper, more focused. Complete.

They look at you like you're the next thing they need, and the want in it makes your breath hitch.

"Everything okay?" You ask, still frozen, not wanting to ruin the moment before they're ready. You might not understand what a bond feels like, but you do understand the gravity of it.

Taehyung moves first. He's always been the quickest to reach for you, the least guarded, and now, bonded and high on the feeling, he doesn't hesitate. He pulls you down to the nest, his hands warm as he buries his face in your neck and breathes you in, slow and content. 

"You stayed," He murmurs, smiling against your skin. "I knew you would."

"I promised," You say, and he hums, pressing closer.

They all take turns scenting you, nosing into your neck, your hair, your wrists, marking you with their presence. Namjoon's tongue traces the bruise Hoseok left on your neck, and the contact sends a shiver through you, oversensitive and spent. Taehyung nuzzles behind your ear, humming something tuneless and happy.

You clean them up, careful not to touch the actual bites, letting them scent and kiss you all they want while they experience what seems like the euphoria of being mated. Taehyung keeps coming back to your mouth, kisses lazy and uncoordinated, grinning against your lips when he misses and gets your chin instead. He's drunk on the bond, on you being there, and he tells you so, warm and bright, until Hoseok pulls him down to rest his head on your thigh.

As they try to rest and come down from everything, the room goes quiet except for their breathing. You're stroking Taehyung's hair, mindful of the area around his ears, his eyes already heavy. Their heats may have taken the backseat for now, but you suspect it won't be long until they're ready to go again, judging by the flushed hue that has returned to their skin.

You stay awake a little longer, listening to them, feeling the rise and fall of chests against your back, your side, your thigh. Taehyung murmurs something wordless and content, and you feel it too, whatever this is, humming under your skin.

Happiness.

a/n: so... it's been a long time since the last chapter... 🤠 life and my health got in the way of writing this sooner and for that i can only apologize. i have the next six weeks off before i start my new job, so i'm really hoping that i can get at least a few more chapters out before that happens! i hope that some of you are still here and excited for the final six or so chapters of abundance 🥹 i feel really rusty so please let me know if you enjoyed it, it truly boosts my motivation (and will, lol) to write so much!! 💖

Hoseok resists every temptation. The others might be borderline overeager to get you into their practice room daily, and there are plans to have you accompany them on their premotions when they pick up. the others might take every available opportunity to see you outside of work hours. They take you to fancy dinners under the guise of making sure you're properly fed, a spa day here and there, a reward because you deserve it, shopping just to get to know you.

They just want to be good employers they say but the truth is deeper than that. To be people you rely on, to project the image of a pack you might want to be part of- they'll have to work at it. Every pack must work to properly attract an omega these days, even them as famous as they are. There are so few, especially so few that they meet in their line of work.

How much would they need to have to get you? A house and a collection of fancy cars? Or would it take a grammy and a wall of awards? A diamond collar and a penthouse somewhere?

The others might be convinced the pack is ready, but Hoseok is not so easily swayed. Hoseok is still wary; Hoseok has his reservations. For a very good reason…

He’s reluctant to engage with you. Keeping his hellos quick and short. His bows are deep but brief. Polite. Every movement is crisp and not an inch too close. He side eyes Yoongi and Namjoon when they start to customize the omega nests in their studios, even more when jackets and clothes go missing. When they come out of their studios smelling happy and sated in a way that Hoseok still isn’t used to. Eyes heavy-lidded, hands and throats smelling of sweet omega. Delicate omega. Beloved omega.

Hoseok’s omega, a hidden desperate voice says. A ridiculous voice that Hoseok tells himself does not make any of his decisions and is not in control of any of his actions. Of course not. It would be ridiculous for Hoseok, the pack alpha of the most popular pop group in the world, to give in to his instincts.

Hoseok doesn't even admit it to himself how much he wants you, not even when he pins the others to the wall after he’s seen your name on their schedule. Sniffing down the column of their throats, lapping at the berry scent all but dripping off of them. Trusted teeth t their throats, nibbling at their wrists, nosing and rutting through their hair for a whiff of your scent. This is what omegas do to alphas- they make them possessive and addicted, controlling and dependent.

Some of the packmates make it easy, others give Hoseok hell for his behavior. Remaining perfectly polite in public, so detached the pack is sure you don't even know about Hoseok's fixation, and…honestly filthy in private. Jin, Namjoon, and Jimin hardly tease, just look down at him with sly smiles on their faces, knowing, but allow his hunger to go unremarked upon.

But Tae and Yoongi and Jungkook make it fun, pushing back just to force Hoseok into that headspace. They fight until Hoseok pins them, squirm until he nips at their throats and growls in warning. Lift their heads and glare at him with those stupidly cute smirks on their face until Hoseok reminds them why he's pack alpha.

And why they're waiting. After a few months, almost all of their late-night conversations revolve around you.

The pack is used to the pack alpha getting this way around rut season (but neglects to point out that it’s months and months away, too early to be it). This is something different. This transcends Hoseok's self-control. Even when Hoseok doesn’t give in and lick your scent from them, his jealous rages.

And it only gets Harder and harder to hide.

Hoseok is very, very aware of the whispered complaints from management. The less hidden snide comments that get met with a perfectly worded reply that leaves the perpetrator wondering if Hoseok is really an enemy they want to have. Any time anyone dares to say something even slightly critical of his pack’s needs, Hoseok is unrelenting. Hoseok is their fortress.

Usually, they’re not bold enough to say anything to his face, but even he can’t help what he overhears.

It's two managers- one for Le Seraphim and the other for a pre-debut group, scheduled for announcement near the end of the quarter. You’ve been spending quite a bit of time with them recently. Hoseok doesn't mind the girls; they're polite as they should be.

At least one hour a day is dedicated to them because they're all under so much stress. Every time you leave them, you look more and more tired. Hoseok knows you're scenting all of them at once, quickly, before management notices. But it's against your contract and everything he knows about Omegas.

Most omegas get overwhelmed if they have to scent even 4 or 5 people that aren't in their pack a day. Their scents spiking wildly, uncontrollably, let alone this new group of 9 (probably 7, Hoseok knows the look of two of them- they just won't make the cut- they don't have what it takes.)

It’s a painful reminder every time he sees their name on your schedule and a bit of a slap in the face to Hoseok. Every time he's forced to remember that you're not theirs. Not officially. Not yet.

So maybe Hoseok tells the pack to be selfish with your time, to book out your time slots regardless of whether they need a scenting or not. Filling your hours with meaningless little dates when you could be scenting them. Naps in studio spaces or quiet requests for your help with something simple, like your opinion on outfits or aesthetics- to get an omegan perspective. Anything to give you an adequate chance to take a breather.

Hoseok only wants to make sure you're getting proper rest. at least that's what he tells himself.

Hoseok is moving from the meeting room to the studio (approvals on merch that needed his and Namjoon’s final okay) to a studio where a mildly distressed Seokjin probably needs his help. The new song is just an octave out of Jin’s comfort zone, all routine, all normal.

That’s what Hoseok thinks of when he comes to a screeching halt at the sound of your name. This interruption is anything but ordinary. The door to another meeting room on the 6th floor is cracked, one seldom used by the artists but commonly occupied by staff.

Maybe an ordinary alpha might not hear it, but Hoseok's always had exceptionally good hearing.

He pauses in his near-silent footsteps, recognizing the too casual way the two managers are talking and the hush to their voices as something salacious. The secrets can't help but slip through the open door and onto Hoseok’s waiting ears.

Hoseok moves quietly, his feet hardly making a sound on the carpet floor. Every ounce of him is an alpha trained to hunt. To detect threats to his pack. A hidden voice- Hoseok's alpha, reminds him that everything but the pack is a threat to Hoseok's omega.

"-They're hogging her. I don't care if they're eligible for a Grammy or a fucking Nobel peace prize. We didn't hire her to be their omega." The whisper of the beta’s voice is a pitched down. Unpleasant in it's nasality.

There’s the hiss of paper shuffling, an understanding and agreeable scoff. "I just don’t know what you expect me to do about it- I'll say something to Namjoon if you really want me too, or would you rather I say something to Jung Hoseok?"

His reaction is startled, almost hasty. "No no no, there's no reason to involve their pack alpha in this." Hidden by the shadows, Hoseok smiles. It's more of a bearing of teeth. Even not present, Hoseok's name commands respect and fear. Even quiet- he’s dangerous.

"He's sort of…scary sometimes."

Hoseok doesn’t mind being feared, might prefer it actually- if it means that his pack remains unhalted and unbothered. If it means you get to sleep where you want to sleep and nest where you want to nest. Hoseok is always keeping track of you. Watchful when you duck out of one of the meeting rooms with Taehyung and Jungkook, looking half asleep in a way that just won’t do.

Hoseok initially intended to make sure they didn't skip lunch, but now his presence is much more important.

You weren't in a session with them, but even when you're not booked, you have the habit of hanging around the pack. Gravitating to them almost naturally. An original condition of your contract with Hybe is that you were allowed to nest where you want to when you're not booked for a scenting session with someone, but there's no question of where you'll be and whose pack is most likely to be occupying your time.

Whenever anyone asks where you are in his presence, the whole company's first instinct is to look to the pack to answer that question.

Hoseok's alpha purrs every time he notices it, begging you to come a little closer, the way a wolf might stay still until a rabbit hops between its paws. The image isn't incorrect, but the truth is that Hoseok is not the alpha in the pack you're closest to. Not in the slightest.

That honor is reserved for Jungkook, and by default- jimin and taehyung.

Maybe it's just because you're closest in age to them, but there's hardly a day that you're not giggling about some video that they sent you, or wearing one of taehyung's extra large sweatshirts, a pretty bracelet of Jimin's dangling on your wrist because you'd said it was pretty and he insisted.

But you with Jungkook is another sight entirely. When he giggles you perk up, you blush at the sight of him coming close. Scent going warm and flustered whenever he takes off his shirt during practice or flashes the mirrors in body rolls. Your interest noticeable even from afar.

Hoseok hates it. Hates feeling jealous. Only barely resists the urge to snap at Jungkook whenever he picks up that you're flirting. It's ridiculous because Hoseok loves Jungkook. Jungkook is his pup, the one who reaches for him when the late nights burn low and his body aches, when there's that line of tension in his body that just won't quit, when Jungkook- like the others needs what only their pack alpha can provide.

It's hoseok's own damn fault for being so cautious.

About once a day, he’s reminded that he still hasn’t booked a session with you yet, still hasn’t gotten any more than this. Hoseok’s alpha paces the confines of his mind, waiting for the right moment to strike and gather you up.

And in the meantime, human Hoseok yearns.

He watches you from behind as you walk with Tae and Jungkook. Your first session of the day was with Jungkook (he's happy, Hoseok can smell the joy dripping off him even if he couldn't see it. Koo bouncing on his feet, body still obviously humming from his scenting session) and your second with Tae (prowling, quiet as usual, obviously needing rest. Tae always sleeps like the dead after your scenting session).

But you- you're cute. Wobbly and sleepy between the two of them. First coming up to rub your eye. Hoseok can smell the muted exhaustion on you; you're honestly dead on your feet. Hoseok wants to snap and growl at that. Are you too tired to walk? Should he offer to carry you? No, that would be ridiculous- that would be-

You sway as you walk, one step taking you close to Jungkook, the next closer to Taehyung. Hoseok trails behind. Eyes on the way that your shoulders brush each of theirs. Relaxing just a little bit when Taehyung (not Jungkook) sets his hand on the small of your back at a polite height.

You lean into Tae's casual touch (a little bit better than the way you'd let your fingers brush Kookies seconds prior). Obviously indulging in the warm splay of his fingers, the firmness of his grip on your waist as it slides to the side. Hoseok knows he must feel steady.

Hoseok watches you look up at Tae's face, fixated. jealousy twisting in his gut. You look at him like you know that if you lean into him, Tae will keep you upright. So trusting. so indulgent you don't even notice tae stare back. doing a double take when he catches you watching.

Tae pokes your nose; you go a little cross-eyed trying to look at it. Jungkook laughs and nuzzles into the ball of your shoulder. they cordinate between the two of you, walking like a many legged animal. a stalfmemeber has to press themselves flat to a wall as they pass. about to say something in hello until they spot hoseok.

and promptly duck into the nearest room rather than distrub them.

hoseok grins, behind the three of you- unseen.

“You still look a little out of it.” taehyung says, jogging hoseok's concentration.

You pout, swatting his hand away. “I’m not,” you say, but even to Hoseok it sounds petulant and bratty.

“Stay close to us,” Jungkook says, and you nod, obedient without challenging it.

(You've heard it all from alpha's before. Stay close to us. I want you and only you. I'd give you everything. But somehow you wonder why it feels different when it's these alphas, why it makes your blood heat and hum.)

Hoseok is unrelenting later at practice. Jungkook and Tae just share looks behind his back, knowing. Aware. If Hoseok won't give in to his instincts on his own, the rest of the pack will do their best to give him an incentive.

Hoseok will do anything to be feared if it means he sneaks up on you and Jimin napping.

Your legs slung over his knees, comfortable fabric pulling up to reveal inches of goosebump ladened skin. Jimin’s hand rests. under the leg of your pants, fingers wrapped around your ankle. clutching it in his sleep like a child might hold the leg of a stuffed animal. three sets of shoes lie in a haphazard pile, discarded at the edge of the nest. Heads together and hair colors mixing with how close your heads are nestled.

Beta's don’t need much, but Jimin has been so tired recently, stressed about the choreography just like Hoseok is. A scenting is just what he needs. Jimin presses up against you.

both of you are slung over Seokjin. Limbs tangling. The betas don’t get quite as territorial over your scenting sessions and often elect to do them together (if only to free up more of your time for the others). Seokjin’s not sleeping, curled around you and tapping away at a game on his phone.

You doze, chin hooked over his elbow. Pressing forward to watch him, giggling at the actions of the avatar on the screen, and Seokjin’s quiet narration. The occasional "yah don't do that" and the way he pauses when he loses or reaches the next level, hand brushing over the top of your head, playing with your hair for a second when he asks if you're ready for a nap.

"I already had one today." You say, sounding small. Jin hums, unconvinced. Your eyelids flutter, looking heavy. Hoseok bets you have minutes before you're out. Every laugh makes Jimin move a little. He looks so young like that, curled over you, nosing into the nape of your neck, hiding from the lights with his hood up.

Hoseok will do anything, will stay away from you forever. If he gets to see you jumping from couch to couch in Yoongi’s studio, socked feet slipping, your chatter at a 200 tempo like the rap track drowning out the sound of your commentary. (Hoseok's never met a person whose voice made him want to turn the music down).

You're Hyperactive from the empty coffee that Namjoon made sure to mix half with decaf (caffeine isn’t good for omega’s, you’d probably be mad if you knew he kept you from it, but they can’t help it). And Omega's are naturally a little more active once the sun goes down.

Namjoon has his hand up and is waiting for you to need him to steady you. Namjoon's dimples seem to have permanently etched themselves into his face because he just can't stop smiling. Hoseok’s never seen you with so much energy. Socked feet depressing the leather of the couches.

Hoseok watches from a rolly chair as you hop from couch to couch, Namjoon’s hands out to hold you should you fall, grabbing your waist and doing just that when you say. “This one makes me want to spin!” giggling when Namjoon holds your waist and just does that. Yoongi giggles, gums showing. Hoseok watches him and finds himself smile back.

When Namjoon puts you down, you set your hands on the back of Hoseok's chair, over his sweatshirt that he always keeps there. should he get cold- should someone else need it.

Hoseok watches your hands tangle it.

"Can you show me more?"

"More music?" He questions, quriking an eyebrow at you.

"Anything." He turns away, but your hands stay on the back of his chair. Hoseok is careful to turn slowly, so that you have something to keep you steady. Omegas are just as physically capable as alphas, can run marathons (under medical supervision) and he knows you have plans to work out with Jungkook. But Hoseok still would never dream of making you unsteady.

Hoseok will become the most feared alpha in the industry if that’s what it takes. To keep this balance. Not quite packmates, not quite coworkers. But a third, worse thing.

Friends- definitely friends. Hoseok protects his friends. He guards his important people with his life. You are the most important person in the pack’s orbit these days. (Pack alphas don’t know how to do anything in half measures.) Hoseok won’t let anything happen to you.

Their next album breaks several records, and that promise feels less and less like posturing, more like a fact. Even when he’s alone, even without the pack, he draws a hush to every room he enters. The tick of his head earns apologies, his smile a bow. Hoseok is right where he wants to be.

There’s no one to compare them to, and he knows it. Everyone does. There isn’t a single more eligible pack for an omega in the country- one better poised to take one on in a more permanent basis. All that they would have to do is contact an omega placement agency in the city, and they'd have omega's clamoring to submit applications.

They even get more than a few personal and private messages from omegas on the prowl. Content creators and well-known fans. It's a regular discussion among the fans about which omega they'll choose and yet…

 Hoseok resists the pull of his biology.

The others ask after you during practice time, quietly satisfied when you choose the very, very comfortable nest (that Yoongi might have fortified so that you could lean against the edges) during their scheduled practice time.

They've had long hours in there recently. Hoseok doesn't like it, but their newfound success necessitates that they be perfect in every way. Their careers feel like they’re only going up and up and up and show no sign of slowing down. Every foot and elbow needs to be perfect. Hoseok already thinks they're perfect- but it's the rest of the world and it's harsh critics that Hoseok is worried about.

From a very practical standpoint, there's simply no time to court anyone, let alone to do it well.

The pack is going to nail the next song, Hoseok can feel it. He's a good pack alpha but inside the practice room, he's a little bit of a slave driver. He's always measuring their condition, pausing for water breaks, and checking ankles and knees, tilting Jin's hips this way. Running it through, and then circling back to the more difficult moves again and again until their bodies know the movements with their eyes closed.

"No. That's mistimed, is foot hand finger, step back- side down. like that- good pup. Do it again. Good."

Hoseok is used to this- Pushing them by the back of the neck when they stretch. Dictating the pulse of their bodies the way that only a pack alpha can. Work time is different than pack time, and Hoseok is uncompromising with this in taking care of his pack and making sure that they show the world their best.

Each of them is equally as motivated to reach up and up and up and take their fame and performance and music as far as it will go. A height that Hoseok takes them to. Pack alphas lead, and Hoseok will take his pack to the stars.

But things are different now. Now there is a separate factor.

When you're nesting in their practice room, Head perched on the padded velvet edge of the deep side walls to watch them practice, it’s harder for Hoseok to be quite so scary. It’s difficult to be hard on his pack with you watching them, the scent of sweet berries in the air, and Hoseok feels like he’s under a microscope.

He tracks you in the corner of his vision, with your wide eyes and cutely flushed face from rubbing your cheeks against the maple story plush that Jin got you that gets toted from nest to nest. (Or maybe Jin just got you one for each of your nests?) Mouth carved into a perfect little 'oh' when they get the choreography just right. Clapping softly when they've finished. Whispering softly, "again." In a way that has each of them falling into position without a second thought.

Practice goes smoother with you there. They get the choreography quicker when they've got you to perform for.

Hoseok hasn’t commented on it because he doesn’t want to deal with the pack’s teasing, and any time he asks about you or your schedule (is the company giving you adequate breaks in-between sessions?) How you looked during your session (Are you too tired to work? Should they be letting you rest more frequently? Should Hoseok petition the company to move you from a 4-day work week to a 3-day work week?) He gets knowing looks from his packmates.

"wouldn't you like to know alpha." jimin singsongs, hoseok just pushes at his shoulder until he's pinned. the snap of his teeth playful but threatening.

The pack is sneaky; they'd noticed the very first time you attended a practice session that Hoseok wasn't as likely to push indiscriminately and was more inclined to make his requests honey-toned and soft. “If you move like that, you’ll hurt your knee, pup.” "Tell me what you did wrong."

now they invite you to every practice. hoseok noticed when he checked your schedule online. the digital portal where everyone else books you out for time, scenting sessions in red, your presence requested to 'settle the air' in blue. and every day- in the afternoon after lunch. an hour or two blocked out for them.

An hour or two that often has them all scurrying to change their shirts or do their hair, dotting concealer and grabbing drinks and snacks. That always leads to this- Hoseok's razor like focus and you behind them. always fucking watching.

"Joon-ah- you're in your head again." The pack fall still at Hoseok's voice. Choreography stuttering to a halt.

"I'm just worried, when I spin it's like- so hard not to look stiff."

"If we make sure to milk your knot before each performance it wouldn't happen."

There's no one but you 8 here in this room. Hoseok holds his breath and counts to seven, and by the time he's opened his eyes, Tae's already been scolded, rubbing his arm. Jin closes his hand around his wrist.

"What'd you do that for?" Jin just smiles, grin perfectly civil. Eyes flickering in your direction just once. A silent way of saying 'not in front of the pup.'

You stir in your nest, maybe at just the mention of knotting. Shoulders shifting under the duvet that blocks most of your body, curled into as small a ball as the nest will allow. Resettling with your elbows lying flat across the nest edge. Resting your chin on your hands as the metronome music pumps. You probably couldn't hear Tae over the sound, Hoseok elects to believe.

The alternative might be too scary for you.

The last thing Hoseok wants to do is scare you off. Even if milking Namjoon's knot until he goes boneless and dumb is something that happens once a week minimum (Hoseok just considers it packmate maintenance like studio hookups for Yoongi and kneeling sessions for jungkook, or the ropes that often get bruised into Jimin's skin when the pack has time and privacy. Everyone has their thing, and everyone gets what they need in the pack)

It's just probably for the best if you don't know about that yet.

Hoseok shakes his head, goes closer to Namjoon as he mimics the move, tilting his shoulders, his spine. Namjoon moves, obedient. Cheeks flushed, and Hoseok can tell he's thinking about it from the vaguely musky edge to his scent. His usual tomato leaf scent is earthier, grungier. Hoseok's next words are a purr that only tells the other alpha. Later. If you'll be good.

"If you look stiff I'll tell you. Leave the worrying up to me." He sneaks a peck against the nape of Namjoon's neck. the alpha's shoulders fall slack just a little.

In the nest, you wiggle a little. Shivering.

but then he's right back at it again. "No- this isn't right, we can't do this choreo every night, not if we're touring. We need to find a safer alternative. Like i'm trying to be calm about it but- if Tae bangs his chin again doing the fall to push up i'm not going to be able to be cool about it." “Not like that, bah bah bah, yes, good. Exactly like that. I want you to show me that every time. Again.”

It might be just your scent on the air that tames him, or maybe that he doesn’t want to think he’d be too demanding of an alpha to tolerate.

At least not to you.

To you, Hoseok would give everything your little heart desires. You’d never have to tolerate moving so much, not from room to room, no. You’d never have anyone herding you or snapping at you to stay on schedule. The polite but vaguely annoyed staff member who often has to come into the room halfway through practice to rouse you would be the first thing to change.

It’s something that has the alphas sharing looks as you yawn and nod, allowing them to pull you out of your nest via your outstretched hand. Looking completely asleep one second and wide awake the next- all wrong, an omega should wake up slowly (preferably with an orgasm too- although that’s not polite to comment) to do it do abruptly could be dangerous, could lead to a predicament that no one wants; an omega dysregulated, an omega upset.

Hoseok just tightens his hands and clenches his teeth and watches you leave in the mirror, close enough that he could reach out and touch your reflection. calling out your goodbyes and i'll see you later as you go.

"Text me." Jungkook asks with a wink. And you nod shyly, chin tipped down, looking at him for a singular long moment before you continue out of the room. Your manager watching and waiting expectantly.

The others hate it when you leave, and Hoseok is turned back into a slave driver, merciless and uncompromising. Even more stubborn and off-kilter than normal. He knows that they can do this, what they can be. Hoseok’s pups are good pups.

Rarely, if ever, do they disobey.

Hoseok would never confess how much he doesn’t like it. The way that they have to share you. The way Hoseok has to share you.

~-~

But having you in the practice room doesn't always work in the pack's favor; sometimes it bites them in the but, like when Jungkook gets a bit too energetic when roughhousing with Taehyung and Jimin.

The beta already has a bruised knee, an unfortunate accident involving slippery socks and the new choreo. Hoseok and Jin fussed over him long enough yesterday, took him to the doctor just to be sure.

A leg brace was ordered, and really, Jimin hadn't seemed to be in too much pain. Had said he didn't even really need the brace earlier today, and listened when Hoseok pressed a kiss to the joint and told him he'd be wearing it for the rest of the week anyway.

You'd rushed over to him this morning, first thing. Both of you still in the lobby, too close to the windows not to draw the potential eyes of paparazzi. But Hoseok didn't have the heart to tell you to be careful, your worried eyes almost teary. Mindlessly gripping the front of Jimin's sweatshirt and hugging him around his waist. Jimin looked better already. Cooing at you and telling you that your hugs are medicine enough.

But none of them are strangers to injuries. Hoseok fears the day that they just don't heal right. The day that someone hurts something too far. Yoongi already did that once, and the next time the pack might not be that lucky.

But today is not that day.

Everyone's treating Jimin gently because of it, everyone but Jungkook. he tends to be riled up unless they work it out of him. Sometimes the pack teases him for needing so much… exercise. But it's all in good fun.

Sometimes, Jungkook lets his need for dominance play out during work hours. Bothering Jimin until the beta quiets him with a look, something that doesn't always work when Jungkook's feeling bratty. Looking for a punishment and knowing that Jimin is a safe place to look for that.  Hoseok doesn't always need to do the discipline there, just like with Tae and Jin. Sometimes, Hoseok trusts Seokjin and Yoongi to do the discipline for him.

Jungkook and Jimin are especially close in the pack; Hoseok has never once felt insecure about it- if anything, it's only an asset during times like these when Hoseok has too many things on his plate. They naturally gravitate towards each other. Hassling each other until someone thinks to put them both in their place.

Hoseok's not worried about it because Taehyung seems to be taking that job today, grabbing Jungkook's hip when he picks up Jimin and instead of obeying his reply to put him down- Tosses the beta over his shoulder just a little bit too aggressively, Jungkook still has a good grip on his legs, but Jimin is stationary one second and then- looped around Jungkook’s shoulder the next.

Jungkook pushes, and Tae goes sprawling on the floor, giggling as he goes, reaching for Jungkook's legs. He's still holding Jimin. The beta crying, "Put me down!" only to be willfully ignored.

Jungkook turns to you, winks, and says, "hyung will never admit it but he likes it."

You giggle, eyes following them. Namjoon sits close to your nest, watching them too with a fond smile. Leaning up against the edge and tipping his head to whisper something to you conspiratorially. Glistening. Hoseok watches you watch Namjoon as he talks, your eyes trailing the damp and glistening column of his throat, the sweat there. Rubbing your nose against the edge of the nest. Hiding a little.

All in all, not that abnormal roughhousing. Hoseok even smiles at it.

Omegas hide when they're shy. When they're feeling things that are too big for their body. Hoseok's alpha demands that he hoist you out of your nest and sniff out the nature of your shyness. If it needs a settling or perhaps something less innocent.

Something tells him that if you stood up, he'd be able to smell the telltale whiff of slick between your thighs. He imagines how warm you get under there in the nest where things are soft and still- warm and sticky. You shift sometimes as if you ache somewhere- hoseok knows it. He doesn't know how he knows but he does.

But part of him wants to take Namjoon by the hair and let you lick him. It's a weird image. A little gross. But the twist of want is still there, insistent and heavy in Hoseok's gut.

But your desires are clearly not as hard to ignore as Hoseok's are. You look at Jungkook, Jimin, and Tae roughhousing. They do it so often, the affection in it so practiced, that it almost looks like a choreography of its own. Jimin pinches and Jungkook slaps his ass, looking up at him, tousled hair undone- but falling curly from the dampness. Jungkook steps without looking down at Tae.

All it takes is one misplaced step.

Jungook's foot slides too close to Tae's hand, and the alpha hisses, yanking his hand away a second too late to avoid pain. It's not that bad, but Jungkook moves, momentum off.

You're watching them with a fond smile until you're not. Scent spiking, Fear trickling in and pushing away the comfort.

Tae grabs one of Jungkook's ankles and his center of gravity shifts. Jimin teeters and Jungkook's grip on his legs slips. He slides almost right off Jungook's shoulder. Face-first, face down. Stopping less than a foot from the floor.

You see it happen, sitting up a little. Almost picking yourself up and out of your nest. Like you could get across the room quick enough to stop it from happening. The blanket around your shoulders flops to the floor with a quiet rustle of fabric.

Hoseok’s head snaps up with whip-like accuracy.

"The three of you. Here. Now."

He points to the floor in front of him. Jungkook very carefully puts Jimin down on his own two feet. Taehyung sits up from his spot on the floor to help him. Once they're all safely on two legs, they scurry over, already hanging their heads. Semi contrite.

Seokjin and Namjoon descend on you with snacks and water. Yoongi scoops your blanket up from the floor in seconds. Shushing you back into the nest. But the scent of fractious omega is acrid. Smarting. Hoseok cannot stop himself from barking. “What are you thinking?”

“We where just-“ “I didn’t mean to-”

Jungkook keeps glancing back at you, his own scent dulling with worry. Until Hoseok takes his chin in one hand, fingers pinching his cheeks as the pack alpha makes him look at him. “Don’t look at her, look at me.” Then, softer, but still just as stern. “You know better, Jungkook-ah.”

Hoseok takes them over his lap for that. If there had been even one manager in the room, Hoseok wouldn't have. The matter is too private for work hours. But it's just them and you here.

You should see it. See how he is. See what he's like.

Hoseok's alpha purrs worse than that. There’s only one thing that fixes an unsettled omega. A settling. A spanking. Whatever you'd want to call it. Most omegas get at least one a day; some health agencies even recommend it. Just as maintenance, just to help them go down into omegaspace.

For most omegas, a daily spanking is nothing more than a reminder that their alphas are there, they care, and however small and little they go, however much they need, their alphas will always provide.

He'd give you one, albeit gentler than the one he’ll give his pack. You might not even squeal or fuss. All at once, the idea of you here- bent over the edge of the nest, or preferably his knees, head tipped to the side, the picture of submissive contrition. Taking all of it just like the others fills his head, so intoxicating and pervasive that for a second, Hoseok has to look away from all of them.

But the rational side of Hoseok thinks you should see what you're getting yourself into at least. Hoseok wants you to see what good control he has over his pack; how good they can be with the right motivation.

Hoseok's alpha says that you need a settling too. But luckily, he has just as good control over himself as he does the rest of the pack.

You watch them and their squirming with pink cheeks, so unused to watching any alphas discipline each other that it has you mesmerized. Hoseok might be smaller than Jungkook- but he's far stronger. Jungkook strains and fights, tattoos warping with the flex of his muscles. But Hoseok hardly has to work to pin him to the practice room floor.

You push away Jin's water and Namjoon’s bag of sweets, and you know omegas who eat after chirping avoid dropping. Already, you feel sort of shaky. But you hardly care about that when you have a show going on. You crane your neck when Jungkook starts to push up against Hoseok with a snarl.

But Hobi just slings a leg over the back of Jungkook’s thighs, both wrists pinned to the small of his back in a single loop of Hoseok's hands- delicate, beautiful hands. Jungkook’s cheek pressed to the practice room floor. Lips parted in a very loud snarl that cuts off with a loud squeak when Hoseok's other hand finally descends with a swat.

Over the clothes, not under.

You gulp and hide your gaze below the edge of the nest again, but you do not look away. You can tell your scent is getting heady, that it’s sweetening as you watch. But you’ve never had very good control over your scent.

Hoseok looks so…placid, calm. The utter depiction of gentle domination as he holds a squirming alpha under his body and gives him what he needs. You even see him smile. Like Jungkook's fighting back pleases him.

You can see the moment that Jungkook gives in, a little more than halfway through his settling. Something tight is stirring in your chest as he stops fighting to get out and starts to push back just to feel Hoseok there.

You watch Hoseok’s hands more than anything, the way that they smooth down Jungkook’s spine, not even holding his hands through the last of it. jungkook lies pliant- obedient, without him holding Jungkook down. Hoseok's other hand slides from the small of Jungkook's spine to the nape of his neck, threading through his hair in a gentle but domineering caress.

Jungkook stays where he should, eyes a little glassy, picking himself up just as quickly and turning, blocking Hobi from view.

Namjoon tries once again to feed you, but fails when you shake your head. bite pressed to your mouth. You’re not even listening to his quiet croons and delicate prods. The whole exchange takes maybe 30 seconds. And then Jungkook is up, and Jimin is shuffling over, with a single nervous glance back in your direction.

He locks eyes with you, and they darken just a little.

Jin’s hand is on your chin, guiding you to suck. You blink owlishly but follow his direction. The water is bland. Somewhere on the back of your throat, you taste it- blood and mangos- Hoseok’s scent settling over you- pervasive and all-consuming. You can taste his dominance in the air.

Jimin goes less easy, squirming, trying to lift his head to look at you again- Only to have his head forced down by Hoseok’s touch. He goes easiest on Jimin, since he was sort of the victim, sort of only a fixture in the disobedience. He'll get a punishment regardless. Hoseok’s instincts don't have rules that way sometimes. 

Deep down, both of them know Hoseok’s not punishing them for the roughhousing- it's for startling their omega almost out of their nest. Nesting is sacred. A right. Protected. Nothing the alphas do should ever get you out of it. It's wrong. Goes against every single one of Hoseok's instincts.

But none of them will say it- not here. Not with you in earshot. The confession might have the same effect, might make you unsettled.

Hoseok looks at Jimin, but he's not really talking to him, not until the last sentence. "You are precious. You are mine. I expect you to be more careful with my things." Jimin nods, lower lip wobbling, head tipping down, submissive in his whole posture. Hoseok noses from his chin to his temple, teeth catching on his ear and the dangly earring there, Jimin's hitch of breath is telling. but after a second- the beta nods. agreeing.

Jimin tilts his head to your nest, and hoseok threads a hand through his hair, tugging.

Hoseok's tone leaves no room for doubt or disobedience. As if he expects the world to stop and obey. It’s frightfully easy to do just that. To stop and follow.

"Settle."

Your legs feel like jelly, and you don't think you could stand even if you wanted to. Your head feels warm and fuzzy, your body heavy as you go lax. between your thighs, heat stirs, and you feel yourself go warm and damp.

Hoseok's nostrils flare, but he doesn't look up as he begins again. Hand up, about to fall again, powerful arm flexing-

A pair of dark pants obscures your view. Slowly. Carefully. You look up.

Half of Yoongi's face is obscured by the light, a gentle but knowing smirk on his face. "Someone’s curious."

His tone is teasing, but serious. You avert your gaze. Squeaking out a "Sorry." That you don't mean.

He laughs a little, not his normal laugh, deeper and throatier. Not quite teasing. It makes your stomach feel funny.

"It's alright."

His eyes appraise you, eyes flickering up and down your body. The way the blanket is pinned beneath your knees. The subtle haze to your eyes. Next to you, Namjoon’s perched on the edge of the nest, softly petting over your head and to the top of your spine. Let go of you now that your concentration has shifted from Hoseok to Yoongi.

He doesn’t look uneasy even though you can scent it on him, hands in his pockets, the picture of control as he appraises you, not in a way that ascribes value or hunger, but a special secret third thing that you can't place.

Delight. Yoongi is delighted that you're watching. That you're enjoying it.

"Do you want me to get into the nest with you, pup?"

All it takes is your puppy eyes and a "please," and he's there. Warm body, strong and capable. His tone is the same no-nonsense intonation that Hoseok uses as he guides you to sit forward so that he can sit behind you. grumbling something you don't hear about curious little oemgas being his soft spot. You're not listening.

Is it your job to listen to their commands? Your job to get up and out of the room to give them privacy? It's so easy to just let them decide what you can see, let them say things and do as they say? Any responsibility feels very far away, at the edge of your consciousness fuzzy and warm, any worry just as distant.

If you're behaving wrong, acting wrong, alpha will punish you. it's as simple as that. Something drops in your stomach, a swooping feeling. but it's okay because Yoongi is there.

Yoongi tells you to drink your water. Feeds you little sips of it when you don't move to take it from him quickly enough. "Open up. Swallow. Small sips, what a cute messy pup we've got here, Good omega." You're pliant and obedient. Lips parting to take the water, pink tongue pressing.

A drop of water carves its way down your chin, and Namjoon reaches out to wipe it away. You don't react to either of their babying. You just sit in Yoongi's lap and take it, a faraway look in your eyes, gaze still trained on Hoseok. Yoongi's hands lie flat on your thighs, holding you still, keeping you secure.

If this is what you're like at a tiny show of dominance...they're going to have their hands full with you. 

Jin looks at you with wonder, an unbidden look of adoration in his eyes, reaching out to caress the side of your face. An omega in omegaspace. it's a special thing. very few alphas ever get to take care of an omega in omega space. Your scent- normally sweet and addicting on the air goes nearly ambrosic.

Your scent spikes so sweet, and you tilt your body to get more of the affection. Letting out a needy small sound. Still in Yoongi's lap, struggling to stay where he puts you and push into the touch. you wobble and whine, eyes suddenly teary.

Yoongi looks, lips pursed. And Jin's hand falls. "Hold up, I hardly have her. I think one at a time, don't wanna give her too much." who knows what you'll interpret as a command in this state.Jin's hand falls, and his gaze, fixated, hardly blinking like he doesn't want to miss a second of it.

His arm stays settled around your waist, keeping you in place. Rubbing simple circles to soothe you against the squishy side of your hip. You let him, aware that some physical contact from an alpha is what you need following something distressing. It's just biology, it's just them being good employers and good friends, really.

Hoseok lands several swats across Jimin's behind. The beta huffs, not a sound of indignation or displeasure, but a bitten intake of breath that leads to squirming, sagging against his hold after the first or second, and giving into the punishment until he grows teary-eyed and apologetic.

It takes a lot of his self-control, but Hoseok doesn't glance up at you once until the end, landing the final swat over jimin's behind before he pulls him up by the hair for a kiss. He glances up at you as he brings his hand down in an arc, the blow cushioned by the beta's pants.

You don't flinch. Eyes fluttering closed. Hoseok doesn't let himself drink down your flushed face; he just continues to the task at hand. Taehyung sets himself over Hoseok's knees, kicking his feet and grinning. Hoseok grabs one of his ankles and yanks it, not all that gently, drinking in the hitch of his breath. "Don't make me go hard on you pup." He warns.

"Sorry Alpha."

"Count."

You peek over Yoongi’s arm, still squirming, and the alpha shushes you, hand to the back of your head, keeping you close to his beating heart. He doesn't stop you from looking again, just pets the top of your head mindlessly until it's over. After a second, another hand joins the petting, and then another and another and another until you can't tell who's touching you.

One hand massaging the nape of your neck, mindlessly stroking over the top of your hair, another down your spine, another over your arm and down to your hand, loosely tangled with someone's shirt, perched on the side of the nest. Jin's? jungkook's? You can't tell.

It’s all normal and routine for a pack alpha to punish their packmates this way. You wouldn't do it infront of your parents, but you might do it in front of a friend. The polite thing would be not to stare.

But for some reason, you find you can’t look away.

~-~

At the end of the day no one addresses it. You falling into omegaspace around them. so pretty and easily that you'd fallen asleep on yoongi for the rest of the day, head resting against his throat, hand tangled in the front of his shirt like you're worried about him leaving you. you hadn't even been all there when you'd woken up and yoongi and jin and hoseok took you home. Jin walked you up to your apartment and got you inside safely while yoongi and hoseok waited for him outside.

They hadn't said anything to each other then or after. Returning home to a quiet but nervous house. Deciding individually that they won't bring it up to you again. Won't ask about it.

But on hoseok's phone later there's a single text. just one line of text from an unknown number.

Unknown (11:40pm): Thank you for looking after me alpha <3

Hoseok doesn't say that it was technically yoongi who looked after you. Hoseok hardly thinks about the line between his packmates and himself that way. He knows you've probably already texted yoongi- that the two of you text all the time. Sending songs and memes and cat videos back and forth between the two of you. The same way that he knows you and Namjoon send each other flower pictures back and forth.

Hoseok instantly renames your contact to the only thing that makes sense to him. There's only one woman in his life who means this much to him. He thinks of Namjoon's song lyric on their last album. 'I call you her, her, cuz you're my tear, tear.'

Alpha <3 (11:40pm): Of course

Alpha <3 (11:40pm): You never have to thank me for that.

Alpha <3 (11:40pm): You can ask me for anything.

Hoseok looks at the text, stressing over it feeling too mean, too demanding. Too...everything. But before he can get too in his head about it another text comes through.

Her (11:41pm): Okay

Her(11:40pm): <3

Hoseok screams into his pillow to cover the sound from the rest of the pack.

~-~

In the late afternoons, before Namjoon's done working out and far before Yoongi usually arrives at his studio. In between when the pups flock to you after morning practice and when you're usually wrapped up in the other groups. You have the habit of occupying Hoseok's practice room.

Perched there in the (new) omega bed, made of the softest cotton, a big fluffy blanket over the top if it's cold and tucked down if it's getting warm by the windows.

Watching him as he runs through the moves again and again (it's a little eerie, but omegas don't need to blink as often as alpha's.) He's polite. Greets you and asks if you need anything or want anything before he starts working. You don't laugh at him when he stumbles; in fact, you hardly say anything. You hardly talk.

Sometimes, he catches a bit of your smile in the mirror.

Usually, you're a chatterbox around the rest of the pack. Hoseok has grown used to the sound of your voice at all hours of the day, your giggle, your teasing. But around him, you're so quiet. The silence companionable instead of awkward.

Sometimes he doesn't say anything until the end of practice, sometimes he doesn't speak to you until he's getting his things together to go to the recording studio with Jungkook and Taehyung, to a health check-up with Jimin, or out for dinner with Seokjin before they get some work done with Joon and Yoongi, or you're in the process of untangling yourself from the nest. Usually because your manager has come to the door, knocked, and reminded you that you're due for a session in 15 minutes.

"Can you walk up on your own? I have like so much work to do." Hoseok shoves his water bottle, phone, and wallet into his bag with extra force. His pissy expression is hidden when he turns away. Jesus- these new staff members.

You're so agreeable too, "Oh, it's fine, you don't have to it's just a few floors." Hoseok hurries, packing up his bag quicker.

"Great- really, you're a lifesaver."

Hoseok turns away and shakes his head, instincts prickling. Annoyed.

Making his paces shorter as you get up to leave. Falling into step beside you. That same plushy tucked under your arm. "Are you going up to the 8th floor?" He asks. The 8th floor is where his studio is, as well as Joon's and Yoongi's. The floor isn't theirs officially, but it's always felt like it is. This elevator is going down to the car park dangerously exposed in Hoseok's mind- who knows who could come up and-

You smile at him. Hoseok smiles back. Can't help it.

"Yeah, Yoongi's getting in in a few minutes, he texted. Gave me the code too." Hoseok grumbles a little bit at that; even he doesn't have the code for Yoongi's studio.

"God hyung loves to spoil you." The admission bursts from his lips, and he doesn't have time to feel flustered- like he shouldn't have said that- before you're grinning up at him.

"You gonna give me yours too or?" Hoseok flushes, holds out his hand for your phone while you wait for the elevator, bouncing on your heels.

"Only if you promise to use it." You smile, "Really, no one will bother you there." Your smile falters just a little but you don't address it any more than that. It's a part of your contract that if you don't want to do a scenting, you can cancel without any notice, you can just not show up. But Hoseok knows that you take this job seriously, but sometimes he wishes you wouldn't.

His finger hovers on the buttons as he keys in the code to your notes app, a list of their numbers, house addresses, stuff like that. Hoseok does not snoop, but it’s kind of hard to ignore all the emojis you have next to Jimin’s name. His gaze flicks to your bag, the way it weighs on your shoulder. Dimpling the fabric of your comfy sweatshirt. It’s big on you, so it must be someone else’s. Not the packs because Hoseok can’t scent them on you, and he doesn't recognize them. "Do you want me to walk you up there?"

"It's okay, Hobi. I know the way."  He’s never told you to call him Hobi. But somehow, you’ve started too anyway. You’ve probably picked it up from the others. The elevator dings and opens, you step inside and tell him goodnight.

But do you want me too? Do you want me to be your shadow?

There's a lot that goes unsaid between you two. You go up, and he waits for the next elevator that will take him down to the car park (where his Lamborghini waits). But he doesn't get on it, he just watches the numbers on the elevator go all the way up to the 8th floor, watches the number blink dull yellow, and then descends back to him before finally he steps away.

You make it your routine without officially asking him. You always spend time with Hoseok in the afternoons in his private dance studio. When the sun has begun to set over the city and light has turned all yellow-orange-red, like mangos. like his scent.

You see him dance when he's frustrated, when he's happy, when his body is broken down and too tired for much more than a warm-up. You see Hoseok dance when he doesn't even want to.

Sometimes his mind just gets too full, running too fast for his feet to keep up. Until he's so frustrated, he cuts the music with a click of the remote in his pocket, and you stir from the nest. Hoseok gets his water bottle and then all but collapses to the floor beside it.

He's sweaty, his throat glistens. addams apple bobbing as he gulps at his water and runs a tired hand through his hair. He's not intending on saying anything to you, not at all, until you stir a bit, sitting up properly in the nest.

"You're having trouble with this choreography."

"Yeah," Hoseok admits, working up to it, there's no one here but the room smells like alpha aggression already. But Hoseok is angrier at his body than anything. "It's easier to get it right when I practice in front of you. I thought it would help, but-" he rubs a hand over his face. "Maybe tomorrow."

You still, and he flushes, realizing it's something he’s admitted. Because he’s never told you that before. But now you know. Hoseok can smell how pleased the confession makes you and he shivers all the way to his aching knees.

"After you've gotten some sleep?" His head jerks in your direction, eyebrow-raising. Hoseok thought he was being sneaky. You look a little chagrined when you confess it. "Jungkook said you and Seokjin didn't sleep at all last night."

Hoseok huffs, rueful. "The pups telling on me now, is he?"

Your hands press into the border of the nest, pushing up on your hands. overly excited. "He said you were worried about the award show, that you stayed up with Jinnie to help him with the choreography. But that I shouldn't worry and that it's your love language and your job to worry about your pack."

Hoseok doesn't know what to say to that and sips his water. And pretends he's not watching you from the corner of his eye as you suck on your lower lip. Just being here next to your nest is already helping. His knee doesn't feel so tight, and his ankle hardly aches. He lets the silence hover, then looks at you.

"Ask."

"Can I come?"

"No."

"Why?"

Hoseok reaches out to tuck your hair behind your ear. "Because it's not safe."

Hoseok hands you a fresh water bottle, cracking it slightly before he gives it to you. You make a face at the plainness but do not comment. (You have a special note in your contract- that sweet drinks will be provided to you often. But Hoseok thinks that it can't be healthy for you to consume basically nothing besides sugary water and coffee)

And Hoseok eyes the moisture on your lips, glancing away before you have a chance to catch him. He caps it for you when you hand it back, almost so routinely that he doesn't notice.

"There will be a lot of people there. A lot of alpha's that we don't know. I'll be really distracted and I won’t necessarily be there to protect you if something happens; it could be dangerous."

You snort. "It's an award show with a 100 cameras, I'd be fine. And of course, you wouldn’t be around you’ve got like- all your responsibilites and the pack and…"

“Yeah…” Hoseok says carefully, You fuss with your nest. you can't look up at him, can't meet his eyes.

“All’s I’m saying is I could be there- if you wanted me to be. For the pack.” You stress, He just stands up, ruffling your hair on the top of your head, and you chance a glance at him.

Hoseok's smile is resplendent. Gentle and comforting. His thin features and the crinkle of his eyes so willing, affectionate in every second. It's so unbearably tender that you can't stop the noise that rises from your throat, Somewhere between a chirp and a purr.

“You don’t have to. I can handle it.”

You'd stayed home. But hoseok is already thinking about inviting you to the encore show of the last tour. It will be a big audience, one of the biggest they've ever had. A month or so away with enough time for him to properly prepare himself mentally. Enough time for him to take Mr. Lee and the rest of the staff aside personally and insist that no one lets you out of their fucking sight. To drag the others in for extra practices and make sure they know that this isn't any normal performance. This is an audition. It will probably be safer for you to be backstage rather than out in the crowd.

But even through the award show, he's distracted, distant. Before he'd gone on stage, he'd checked his phone to find another text.

Her (10:22): I'm watching. You'll do well, I can already tell. Fighting!

Hoseok had given in to the temptation to flirt back.

Alpha <3 (10:23): Oh, you're watching me now, huh? Does that mean I can watch you back?

You'd sent back nothing more than a picture. And he’d almost dropped his phone. Hiding it hastily underneath the unfair eyes of a busybody makeup Noona.

To say it was bordering on pornographic would be an understatement (at least to alpha sensitivities and Hoseok’s overactive imagination). For an omega to let an alpha even see their personal private nest. It's something undeniably intimate. A private nest is something you only let a pack see.

Some…magazines showcase them. Delicate men and women curled in baby blue sheets and fluffy hollows. Half-bare bodies stripped clean of everything. Flushed faces and plush thighs, close-ups of wrists dragging along the edge of the nests, open hands offering fantasy in every pixel. The kind of magazine that you need to be over 18 to purchase, that's put at the back of stores with blacked-out covers meant for alpha's ruts and alpha's ruts only.

It was a shot of you, or part of you. Just your bare legs and one hand wrapped around the edge of a wine glass. The short hem of your ruffled PJ’s and bunny slippers. Feet resting against the edge of a nest, partially swathed in a big dark blanket. The walls of the nest surround you, high and deep red, almost plum. In front of you a big TV shows the award show playing, a caption 'and to close out our show- the performance you've all been waiting for, Bts!'

Behind that is a windowed view of the city, sparkling. Hoseok zooms in on the reflection in the window, blurry bits of your life that he dissects. There A stuffed animal big enough to be human-sized to the left of you, probably simulating the weight of a packmate behind you.

Hoseok had done the choreography to a T. Every step crisp and perfect, the others too had snapped into place at the cheer of the crowds. Hoseok had kept the photo for himself. Too selfish to show the others quite yet. Looking at it longer than he'd ever admit during his private studio time, drinking down the little details. The tuck of your knees, how close and snuggled you are to that plushy.

Do you get lonely at your nest at home? Does such a big space feel empty? You have room for one or two alpha's, but maybe not 7 people in your private nest. The white high walls of your apartment are unadorned with art or decoration. Your curtains are wide open (not a penthouse, too close to the ground floor to be safe).

There's no one else there in your picture. Not even in the reflection of the glass. Hoseok's never asked if you have an alpha, or even a lover. someone around to look after you. But Hoseok doesn't know any person, alpha or beta, who'd ever let their omega nest alone at night.

A few days from then, Hoseok had gone into his practice room again, at the same time. Your little unspoken routine. He doesn't approach you about the photo and doesn't ask you about it at all. Just says his usual hellos before he runs through the first few songs. Exulting in the stretch of his body. The exertion of it. He needs to get tired, to get more settled, before you and he talk. You smile when he glances your way, and it makes Hoseok feel.

Calm? Angry? Possessive? Flustered? It's a confusing mixture of all. Hoseok doesn't know what or how to feel when he's around you.

When he walks over to you after the 4th song, properly sweating and panting, he holds out his own water bottle for you. He doesn't get on his knees in front of your nest; he just stands there and holds it out. "Want a drink?"

There is a half-sipped smoothie next to you, syruppy and yellow. Hoseok knows that it's mango juice without having to taste it. It's your go-to order these days. Probably with a lychee and peach base if he had to guess. But you still take what he offers without comment or disobedience.

You let him feed you sips before he lifts the bottle and takes a swallow of his own, the dampness on the edge of the bottle sweeter somehow, knowing your lips have touched it.

"You made my performance better. I wanted to thank you for it." He says before he chickens out.

Your wink is a little telling; it makes Hoseok feel flustered and hot down the back of his neck. He's never had an omega flirt with him. Omegas don't need to flirt to get what they want. "Now imagine if you let me scent you instead of just watching you."

He just huffs and falls to the floor, leaning his back up against your nest, a soft thing, intimate to touch it here. Where normally Hoseok steers clear. “Aren't you going to ask why I haven’t booked a session with you?”

You shrug, “You’re waiting until your pack is properly taken care of, it makes perfect sense to me. And even if it's not that you probably have a very good reason, you’ll come to me when you’re ready.”

Hoseok's hand tightens on the bottle. Throat thick as he swallows. But some invisible weight is lifted from his shoulders. Instead of saying anything, he takes another sip of water and then hands it to you.

"Do you want anything? Any more juice or food?"

"No. I'm not hungry." You keep watching him, and he keeps watching you, tongue flicking out to lick at your lower lip.

Later, he'll stress over it. He should have brought you some snacks, yakgwa maybe. You’d confessed you liked the taste of honey, and Taehyung had teased you for being old-fashioned. Sometimes, when Hoseok checks the nest in the recording booth, he finds it full of wrappers or hears the crinkle of one in the background of an audio. Yoongi makes a trap beat out of it when a producer mentions it offhandedly and implies that maybe- the recording booth is not the place for an omega.

But lowkey, fuck that.

“She just like things that are sweet.” Jimin had teased. “Like Hobi,” Jungkook said quietly, not teasing at all.

You're always asking them to get you little things like that, snacks from the employee room downstairs. A pillow you'd left in Yoongi’s studio. One of Namjoon’s baggy sweaters or Tae's cardigans when you get cold. Hoseok doesn't know how courting normally happens, but he does know that it feels wrong…unsafe. To deny you any of your requests.

Hoseok can't help but notice, privy to the pack's schedules as pack alpha, that you're more likely to ask them to do things for you after your name has appeared on their schedules. Namjoon, especially, is much more inclined to bump into a wall afterward, dazed, hazy, dopey, almost. You always ask him to come sit by you until the effects of the scenting have worn off. Sometimes you even hold his hand over the edge of your nest while he stretches.

Now Hoseok looks at you in that nest, watching him watch you, smiling. Like you're not alone in a room with an alpha. You've never talked like this before. Pleasantries sure. But you and Hoseok do not talk about his pack.

"Why are you always asking the pups to get you things? You make a special effort to ask them to do things for you." And not me, am I not enough? Why won’t you ask me for things too?

"They like it, it makes them feel better, haven't you noticed?"

"I have," Hoseok admits, feeling like he's under your thumb. Wondering why he doesn't mind it. Why does his alpha not feel challenged? Hoseok pauses, blushing when you just look at him, smiling still. He nudges the edge of your nest with his knee. "Aren't you going to ask me to get you something? Takeout or a blanket or something?"

"No," you'd hummed, leaning your head against the edge of the nest. "You're not so easy to settle, tricks like that won't work on you."

He leans in, over the edge of the nest. "What works on me then if you have me so figured out?"

You hum, thinking on it thoughtfully. "Dancing, you liked it when I asked you to dance for me." You tap the top of his water bottle. "And keeping me hydrated lol."

Hoseok rolls his eyes, "Oh my god, did you just say Lol."

"What? It's not that weird."

"You can't just say lol without actually laughing out loud, that’s like- not a thing." You tuck your smile under the edge of the nest, and Hoseok instantly wants to tilt your chin up so he can see more of it. An omega like you should never have to hide your smile.

"You are such a millennial." You poke his knee, and Hoseok finds himself overacting to the touch, overly animated. Falling backwards onto the floor. Your giggle is a reward. "Say something funny then if you want me to laugh so bad."

“I can call Jin hyung.” Your next laugh is a bark, and Hoseok can’t stop himself from smiling too. This, this ease- is something he never ever has with people outside of the pack. Your laughter quiets and you sit in companionable silence again. Just you and him and the sunlit practice room.

“Your next performance.” He looks over you and finds you’re hiding your face below the edge of the nest again. “Can I come?”

Hoseok reaches out. Your face is warm, and so is his palm. Your skin is supple and soft beneath his touch as he directs your face above the edge to look at him. “Ask me properly.”

Your eyelashes flutter, and his thumb rubs soothing circles against the ball of your jaw. “Can I come to your next performance alpha?”

Hoseok’s eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips, and he gets the terrible feeling that you could ask for anything and everything- and he’d find some way- through blood and claw, to give it to you.

“Yes.”

You almost pop out of your nest with how excited you are, baggy clothes fluttering until a bit of your stomach peaks out. Hoseok can’t shake the feeling like he’s agreeing to something he shouldn’t, but gets back up with a smile on his face. Alpha chasing its tail with how happy he is, how satisfied fulfilling your requests makes him.

Hoseok is in deep deep shit.

“Want a preview?” he offers. You nod and settle at the edge of the nest, pressed closer to the walls to watch as he queues up the next song.

~-~

Hoseok had kept his composure until he'd gone home, and had screamed into a pillow in front of the whole pack. And had woken up at the first light of morning to craft an email to the architect working on the pack house and asked very politely if there was still a chance that a nesting room could be incorporated into the floor plan. Large, ground floor, somewhere more interior in the house.

Price was hardly a consideration.

He easily relocates his studio to the upper floor. shifting the square footage of all their bedrooms. There will be four upstairs, Jin and Yoongi will share the largest bedroom, and Jimin and Jungkook will share the next. It doesn't make sense for them to each get their own room since they end up in the same bed every night anyway. And even when they don't, it's most often Yoongi and Jungkook that sneak around together- and Jimin and Jin who need a bit of beta time. The rest of them are floaters from bed to bed.

But the nesting space- Hoseok knows it needs to be large enough just like the 'pack bedroom', His bedroom on the ground floor, that will need to be regularly able to accommodate all the packmates. It's closest to the entrance of the house and the kitchen too so that Hoseok can keep track of their comings and goings.

And an outdoor space, right? Omega's benefit from sunlight and fresh air, don't they? They'll need an updated security system too, and a larger kitchen if they're going to be cooking for 8 instead of for 7. He mentions the idea to Yoongi offhandedly, and the alpha agrees. Jimin also sat at the kitchen table makes a face. "Omegas don't eat that much, hyung. Not any more than us anyway."

Yoongi had placed the plate full of breakfast infront of him. "But still- maybe we should, just in case."

Hoseok finds himself repeating that a lot. Just in case.

~-~

“You need to book a session with her hyung.”

Hoseok peers up at Taehyung, having stooped to tie his shoe, mid-Stretch. The others are due in the practice room any minute. Hoseok had left the pack house early this morning. It’s the 3rd time this week he’s done the same.

Jimin followed closely behind Taehyung, at the door now, unpacking his things, bottles of water for practice. There are staff too- Hoseok sent them away, but he knows soon they’ll want to be in here to block out positioning and check the audio. His manager and Taehyung bicker about something inconsequential in the hallway. They aren’t in private, even if it feels like they are.

The truth is, Hoseok hasn’t been sleeping. He’s been trying to hide it, but once Hoseok’s awake, there's only one place he wants to be, and he feels riled up, unsettled until he’s here. Often pacing around the pack's apartment- closing the windows and doors, and checking the locks twice before he leaves.

Maybe it's the impending move into the pack house (near complete), or the stress of a looming tour. At least at the company, he can watch from the windows of the 7th floor and wait for your car service to loop around the circle outside. Wait to see you step out.

And then Hoseok hides. Just like now. He checked your schedule. You won’t be around until later. Tonight maybe. Hoseok knows you have a habit of ending up in either Yoongi or Namjoon’s studio before you leave for the night, often staying later just to hang around. Even when you’re not having an active session. People bother you there less.

But Hoseok knows that Taehyung has noticed, and the others have too. Last night, he found himself bookended on all ends with packmates. something abnormal leading up to comeback time, when they're all so busy, the idea of missing out on even a moment of sleep is deplorable. He’s been pushing himself a bit too hard lately. He’s barely been spending any time at home. He tells himself he’s just focused on the album. But that’s not just it.

The fact of the matter is that Hoseok's alpha just won't settle without all his pups in one place. And that only ever happens in the practice room now.

Hoseok tilts his head and considers Taehyung's words. Even though he might be right. Hoseok’s alpha is riled up just looking at him. Black slacks, red shirt- Taehyung always looks so good in red. “Whose giving orders to who now pup?”

Tae crosses his arms, flushing at Hoseok’s obvious appreciation of him. “I’m serious. You’re like- it’s negatively affecting your health-”

Hoseok sighs, pushes up from the floor without using his hands. Tugs on Tae's shirt, hand grasping over his chest, grabbing just to grab, holding just to hold. Tae can’t help but smile. “I’ll worry about my health Tae, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not, sniffing it from us doesn’t do what a real scenting would do and you know it.” Jimin’s been quiet, quiet maybe because he knows what’s going through Hobi's head, what he’s tried to hide but failed to do. he pads over gently. Unzipping his sweatshirt as he goes.

Jimin's so careful with his words, pragmatic. “What are you so worried about? You know you’re not anything from her that she's not paid to give.  She’s getting compensated for this, and if she didn't want to do it- she wouldn't.”

Hoseok flinches at it. That word, taking. He doesn’t like it.

Jimin notices. Rushing to reassure, “Hyung, it’s not taking- it’s literally a monetary exchange. She’s our employee, practically.” A hidden voice in Hobi's head says that no, you’re so much more than that.

He doesn’t really get to talk about it until later. With Yoongi in Hoseok’s bed. Alphas don’t really nest; it doesn't really make any sort of difference biologically to them, not the same way that having an omega's nest would. It’s been years since the two of them giggled (a little drunk) and mimed making one together, dreaming about one day having an omega in their pack, joking, "You can take the evenings, and I’ll take the mornings."

"What about the others?"

"They’ll do what we tell them."

First in their little dorm, then their apartment, and now soon the pack house. There are boxes by the front door. They have to start packing soon if they want to be moved in by lunar new year.

Hoseok’s hand plays with the happy trail on Yoongi’s stomach absentmindedly while he unloads on him. He’s always a bit resistant to confiding in the others. Namjoon has just as much on his plate as Hoseok does, and the baby betas shouldn't be burdened with this. Jungkook and Taehyung- the pups. Yoongi has always been Hoseok’s second. His partner in dominance, in corralling the pack.

“I think if I start getting scented by her, it will only be a matter of time before I want her every day, before I’m jealous of you guys and everyone else, before I crave it more than I crave anything. Every time she walks by me, it feels like my alpha is going to sniff down her throat and then roll onto my back and show its belly.”

Yoongi laughs a little at that. Because the idea of Hoseok's alpha showing its belly to anyone is ridiculous. But Hoseok is serious. And he doesn’t laugh. Yoongi realizes this after a moment. Smile falling. “Scenting addiction has never been a problem with you and other omegas before.”

There are treatment centers around the city for them, lower-brow facilities tucked into back alleys that chain up alphas until the omega pheromones run through their systems. You’ve never made an alpha go scent addicted before. Hoseok had checked your file to make sure. But the risk feels like it’s there. Forever just scratching beneath Hoseok’s skin.

“No- it hasn’t.” Hoseok’s fingers rub Yoongi’s tummy in smooth circles. The alpha groans a little, legs falling open just incrementally. It's been years since either of them has felt the need to go more than once in a single evening.

Back just after they'd presented, and they'd been so full of pheromones that not fucking or hooking up once a day felt like a waste. Yoongi's spunk is still cooling on Hoseok's skin. It's just a habit that has him opening his legs for his pack alpha, bending in a way that Yoongi doesn't bend for anyone else. And Hoseok smiles despite himself.

“But you’re worried it might with her.”

“The way my alpha wants her- my instincts- It makes me feel like a monster.”

Yoongi nuzzles into Hoseok’s shoulder. “You’re not a monster.” Hoseok hums, unconvinced. Yoongi’s hands loop around Hoseok’s waist, rubbing up and down his ribs, attempting to comfort. But comforting another alpha is hard.

Hoseok remembers the way they’d stumbled through it at first, the heavy looks, the needy nuzzles that felt a little less than platonic. The bite of the others' teeth- oh so sweet, oh so needed. Before the pack had decided that this- every hungry and animal urge, was mutual, shared. Desired. And Hoseok started doing everything that he could to please them.

And look at where it's gotten them.

He went over to the pack house earlier, just to check. The house is really more of a villa. It's got a pool out back and enough balconies off the front and back that namjoon will not have trouble expanding his plant collection. It's not on that much property. But it feels less small than it is because of how it's perched on the hill. It gives every window and balcony a view. It's got the right number of traditional touches on the inside, wood accents.

The building is a hollow square. The bottom floor is the garage. The middle has the kitchen, nesting room, and Hoseok's bedroom. Every room opens to a well landscaped patch of earth that will become Namjoon's passion project. The studio and workout room are just before the back deck and pool. The top floor has the rest of the pack's bedrooms and Tae's art studio.

The whole house is perched on a steep grassy hill ringed by hedges that the architect assured would grow in a few years, perched in the hills above Seoul. Private but not a prison. Open, and yet protected.

Hoseok's dedication has gotten them everything.

The pack has cute ways of letting him know how thankful they are. Hoseok watches Yoongi very carefully as he leans down and bites his pectoral. Slowly committing the imprint of his teeth to memory.

“Ow!”

“Shut up, that did not hurt.” Hoseok smiles, rubbing the mark, feeling the ache there- and it feels like love. It is love- Hoseok knows. Even if Yoongi struggles to say it sometimes. Prefers to say it when the moments are light and less heavy, when they’re bickering over tracks, or when he drives Hoseok home from the company when Hoseok is too tired.

They don’t say I love you when they’re talking about making changes to the pack. Being scented by you remains a line that he can’t cross over. Hoseok won’t let himself have it because he knows what will happen after.

~-~

The morning after Jungkook trips during a performance, Hoseok is not surprised to find the other alpha in your nest.

He's just retreating to your usual comfort space, intent on making sure he can get a particularly loud choreography nailed down before you get back from your usual morning vocal lessons with the vocal line. It wouldn’t be a big deal- accept that it’s the end of the day. As per your contract and the general labor laws outlined by the government and OHS, you’re not allowed to have more than 4 hours of scenting scheduled per day.

You had two hours with the other groups and pups, one with Jimin and Tae, and then another with Jin. You’re already overloaded, already overbooked. If management finds out or if anyone in the company reports it to Omega Health Services, it would be a strike against them and could lead to them losing their license as a registered safe haven omega organization.

But he pauses at the scent on the air, you- happy soothing berry, and Jungkook- upset black tea. Stilling. Hoseok sneaks towards your omega nest in the corner, carefully, without turning the lights on.

At first, Hoseok thinks that Jungkook’s just sneaked in there to be closer to your scent, that you're not underneath him at all, but then he spots the movement of your hand, small against Jungkook's back, stroking up and down. The alpha's breathing is deep and measured.

Almost entirely hidden by Jungkook's body, he's smothering you. freshly tattoed arms wrapped around your waist, big body pinning you to the nest. His head tucked below the barrier out of the light, curly dark hair a mop, your small hand gliding through it.

Hoseok makes an alarmed noise, treading close. Reaching to rouse him from sleep. But you squeak, squirming up through the blanket, making poignant and panicked eye contact with him once your face is clear around his shoulder. Shaking your head quickly and keeping your voice down.

"Don't. I just got him to sleep."

Hoseok retracts his hand slowly. Still whispering. "Can you even breathe?"

"It's okay, I kind of like it actually."

"Of course, you fucking do," he grumbles, scrubbing a hand over his face. "You shouldn't let him do that." Hoseok is hushed. An omega's nest is a very, very intimate space. Hoseok is more nervous than upset. More worried than anything else. Eyes flicking from him to you in quick succession, an apology already building on his lips.

But when Hoseok pulls back more, he sees that Jungkook’s cheeks are damp, that his eyelashes are still clumped together from tears, his skin all red and puffy. You just comb your hands through his hair. Gently parting it around his face. Looking at him with a glance so intimate and fond that Hoseok feels like he should look away.

 "What was I supposed to do? Just let him cry?"

Jungkook always looks so youthful in his sleep, with none of his harsh edges and confusing lines. He presses into your hand, letting out a sleepy alpha growl. Nose at the scent gland on the inside of your wrist, mouth open to breathe it in more deeply.

"I told him he could, ordered it when he said you'd be mad." Hoseok huffs, tentatively reaching in to brush Jungkook’s dark hair back from his forehead, too. His hand is close to yours; he watches your fingers flex, like you might be reaching out to him. "He was so sad alpha."

Hoseok just sighs and gets up on his creaky knees. He looks down at the two of you, how nice your body fits around his, how your body is just as boneless, and your eyes are already starting to grow heavy. You look comfortable and warm and cozy.

Hoseok debates between what he knows is right and what his alpha wants. Looking down at the two of you satisfied. Hoseok's alpha wants to cuddle up underneath you or maybe on top of Jungkook. The only thing better than one alpha on top of you is two. The only thing safer would be to stay here and watch over you, but…you look sleepy. Tired. And Hoseok knows that if he stays, you probably won't sleep. Will probably want to keep an eye on an alpha not in your nest.

You're always complaining about management lingering around when you're doing a session, that you wish they'd just leave you be. Maybe staying…will do more harm than good.

 If you notice the change in his scent, nearly heady. You don't say anything at all. You nibble on your lower lip, question on the tip of your tongue that you just can’t ask.

Stay.  

"Is your phone charged?" He asks. You have a wrinkle between your eyebrows when you're confused, Hoseok reaches down to smooth it out. You recoil from his thumb rubbing at the spot with a pout, and he can't stop his smile. 

"Yeah, it's got like 70%, why?"

"I'll lock the door from outside." This is his practice room. And no one will question it if they find the lock clicked; no one will bother you here. "You text me when he wakes up or if you need something, and I'll come get you. Management won't find out that way."

Jungkook would just get another scolding, and you would too. That's the last thing Hoseok wants. He turns and makes to leave, keys already in his hands. Jungkook hardly stirs through all of it.

"Alpha?" You call softly, and Hoseok turns back,

"Yes pup?"

You shrink back below the edge of the nest. Suddenly shy for whatever reason. "Nothing." Hoseok waits for a second, waits for you to change your mind, and then nods.

"Thank you."

Hoseok blinks, "Of course." The keys feel sweaty in his hands. Hoseok means it more than he’s ever meant anything in his life when he says. "Anything you need."

~-~

The pack house is quiet at this hour, late at night on a friday, practice tomorrow and the day after looming. their friday nights often don't look like regular 20 somethings do. The sound of the pack settling into their steadiness comforting as it is familiar. Hoseok scrolls through social media while he brushes his teeth in the kitchen.

The take out all put away. The sound of Seokjin showering in the ensuite and singing one of their new songs softly, lulls him into a false sense of security with the quiet gravel of namjoon's tone a room away, punctuated softly by the sound of the headbord rocking into the wall.

Although that might just be Jimin and Jungkook hitting the table, shouting at their respective screens as they game in the living room.

This late at night, hoseok so often thinks about you. Your apartment must be oh so quiet.

Tae left a little while ago to hang out with his friends. With clear instructions as to the time he was expected home and the amount he's allowed to drink. Hoseok is just considering if he wants to hunt down Namjoon and Yoongi in the other room or if he wants to wait up for Tae to come home when his phone dings.  

A text from your number.

Basically, Hoseok’s worst nightmare in print form.

It’s a picture of two dresses, one black and leather, the other red and sparkly, lying on the edge of your nest.

Her (9:59): Can you help me choose alpha?

Hoseok sends a second dumbly staring at it, brain short-circuiting, before another text comes through.

Her (9:59): Sorry, wrong alpha.

Hoseok immediately tries to call you. But it goes to voicemail. He sends another call, rapid fire, but that one also gets declined after a second. He calls into the kitchen.

“Jungkook ah- can you call y/n for me?”

Jungkook and Jimin stick their heads around the corner. Headphones from their gaming setup off their ears. “What? Why? is something wrong?” Hoseok is thankful that Tae isn’t around and that the others are occupied in their own rooms. Fucking from the sound of it. Namjoon and Yoongi tend to get noisy. The others would be able to scent it out on him in a second. It’s only through pure self-control that Hoseok manages to keep his scent normal.

“No reason, she just hasn’t responded to me.”

Hoseok watches Jungkook call, the furrow of his eyebrow. staring at his phone for a second. “That’s weird, she always picks up when I call.”

Hoseok keeps his scent steady. He grabs his coat, tells, and then orders Jungkook and Jimin to stay put. He wraps the trench coat tightly around him, glad for its length to block out his pajamas. “It’s probably nothing. I might go and like- make sure she’s not still at the company.” It’s a flimsy excuse, but Hoseok doesn't have time to make another one.

Hoseok tries to call you another dozen times on the elevator ride down to the garage, but you leave every one of them on voicemail. Eventually, Hoseok gives in.

Alpha (10:02): Who are you going out with?

Alpha (10:02): Tell me right fucking now.

Her (10:02): Wouldn’t you like to know alpha ;)

Alpha (10:03): Tell me.

Her (10:03): Or else what?

Alpha (10:03): Or else you won’t like what happens.

Her (10:03): Don't threaten me with a good time.

Alpha (10:03): I'm serious. I'm not fucking around.

Alpha (10:03): Where. Are. You.

The next text makes his alpha gnash it's teeth, nearly howling. hair standing on end. And Hoseok feels his alpha win out a little, giving into the chase.

Her (10:04): Come and find me <3

You don’t send any more than that. But you don’t need to. It’s really not all that hard to find out where you’ll be. The fact of the matter is that Hoseok is very, very well-connected, and he’s not exactly averse to using those connections to his advantage. He could reach out to your manager- you have a tracker on your phone like all the other employees.

But all it takes is a well-worded question in the search bar on Twitter to find a photo, a flash of red, your hair curled behind your shoulders as a bouncer helps you step aside the long queue. Most of the picture is blurry, but the profile of your face is something Hoseok would recognize anywhere.

Yeonjunsleftnostril: Isn’t this the omega that works for txt?

Jikookfivever: No, that one works for HYBE.

Yeonjunsleftnostril: isn’t that the same fucking thing?

Hoseok isn’t in disguise; he didn’t think to grab anything. But he gets out of the car infront of the club without thinking about it. He’s spotted almost instantly underneath the neon partition. He wonders if omegas even need tickets to get in here- probably not, they probably just let you right in without even asking for an ID.

He tosses a wad of bills to the valet. “Leave it here.” The beta scurries; he knows Hoseok’s face, the whole city is covered in it. The hush to the crowd that his voice commands is audible. somewhere in the line someone whispers "is that j-hope? why is he wearing pj's to the club?" The bouncer just nods at Hoseok and lets him through without any hassle.

A camera flashes. And Hoseok winces.

You’re really very easy to find, sitting at an empty booth in the corner. Everyone's giving you a wide berth. A dozen bottles of champagne around you and various other alcohols and empty glasses. Hoseok knows you got it all for free- any club would be lucky to host an omega for even 10 minutes, let alone the hour that it took for him to find you.

Hoseok isn’t surprised to find you alone. No alpha. Not the one you dressed up for. Whoever they were, they’ve left you alone, and it’s their loss. The clubs that usually cater to pack clientele are quieter. But this is a club through and through. Edm from the sound of it. Hoseok weaves his way through the churning crowd towards you, passing a group of alphas peering into your booth.

“You can do it bro, that’s just an omega.” “Yeah, the only omega here.” “I didn’t know they were like- even allowed to drink-” “you’ve got this bro-” “yeah go woo her” “bro you’re like so desirable.” “yeah, id fuck you and i'm not even an beta-" "that's like a little weird bro" "sorry bro" "go get this bro- "

Hoseok walks by them without a single glance in their direction. They shrink back when he smirks, his aura intimidating and anger melting off of him in waves. His usually sweet mango scent is sour and strong, making the crowd part around him.

He’s thankful this club has a famous no phones policy, otherwise this would make headlines. At best, he knows a few photos will circulate on the back corners of the internet. Probably excused away.  

Your legs are crossed at the ankle, the hem of your sparkly red skirt hiked up to the upper thigh. Almost high enough to flash the people here. Leaving miles of your skin on display. Hoseok has never seen you in anything other than nesting clothes; he's never seen you in so little. Your eyelashes are curled long and dark, your cheeks rouged, your lips lined and filled bright, bright red, making his blood boil for several reasons.

Whoever the alpha is that you dressed up for is one lucky fuck.

Hoseok's alpha feels world-ending rage. The kind of rage that makes people kill. The kind of rage not appropriate for an alpha of his caliber.

The worst part is, your face still lights up when you see him. The joy on your face is plain to see. Hoseok realizes that you’re drunk, absolutely wasted as your expression loosens into a dopey grin. He knows the expression on his face is pinched and pissed. But you don’t even seem to care as you reach for him, purse spilling, its contents falling everywhere. (Lipstick and a wallet and expensive chocolates and... is that a stuffed animal? One of the ones Jin got you?)

Hoseok catches you before you fall to the floor, all but jumping into his arms in drunk animation. Excited. Sweet scent rippling.

“Hoseokie! You made it!”

~-~

Notes:

on second read hoseok reads so imature in this fic, i know it's a flashback, but it's very clear i think from his behavior and internal monologue that he really really wants to be a good pack alpha and is struggling to find his grove. i hope you got that without me explicitly saying it? but it's true that the m/c really does make him flourish.

this may feel like a filler chapter- not because it is- but because it and the next chapter originally were connected to each other and now they are not! the next chapter and the one after it focus more on her relationship with the others as well as hobi (building very heavily on the m/c/jk dynamic and showing how that sort of started) and my god the sexting with tae- it's taking everything in me not to spoil it.

i split this because once i hit like 12k in the word count my mental health gets very dodgy (basically the level of effort i put in doesn't reach the amount of feedback i receive and i start to feel like my writing is crappy SO that is why i try not to publish parts that are longer than 12k.

i really hope people won't be disapointed :/ especially because there's nothing really really juicy that happens in this chapter.

i think it's clear that i'm not sticking to the irl timeline of enlistment and albums in this fic but incase you needed it said! things are happening out of order! also there's no pandemic in this universe lol- i figured since we have the omega plague we don't need covid. in my mind this takes place in like 2018 when bts's popularity really took off like- DNA era. realistically this would mean that bts are younger than like 26-27-28. but you know- if the pandemic hadn't happened but they'd still enlisted when they where 30- you get the picture. the timeline works if you ignore it and the timeline really doens't matter to me.

wow i'm at the point in editing this where i hate this- it's so fucking meandering and i feel like you can really tell there was supposed to be another part to this (there is it's just next chapter)

whatever.

i have not verbally said it in the last chapters but the packmates scents are as followed namjoon: tomato leaf, Jimin: lychee, Jin: peaches, m/c: blackberries, hoseok: drippy sticky mangos, Jungkook: black tea, Taehyung: toffee like faintly smoky but sweet, Yoongi: citrus, but deep and mellow instead of bright

i love how hoseok's inner monolouge is "i'm a monster- i'm going to hurt her." and the second she sees hoseok actually dominating she's just like "wow he's pretty" like ugh- their dynamic is so <3333

i love outro her and i love that hoseok's referencing that here. newer armies might not know the song.

this is the first chapter where i'm like- does the forced caretaking tag really fit? because honestly the m/c willingly gives up control of her whole life to hoseok. like- all of it. i think that this is a very soft foray into the world of forced caretaking.

~-~

Mini playlist:

Bella Kay- Steady

Tate mcrae- Revolving Door

Tate mcrae- the hills

Demi Lovato- met him last night

Annabelle Dinda - Satellites

What he did mind, however, was his ex-wife appearing in his doorway at 12:17 on a Saturday, voice already carrying the news that killed his appetite and, for a fleeting second, his will to keep breathing.

“You can’t just spring this on me.” Jin shoved the door shut harder than intended; the click echoed in the empty office.

“I’m not.” Hiah crossed her arms, bag thudding into the chair beside his mahogany desk. “The trip isn’t for another week. You have time to get organized.”

He wheezed a laugh that tasted bitter. “Get organi– You’re asking me to change my life.”

“I’m asking you to look after your daughter for a month.” she corrected, as if there was a difference.

The headache bloomed behind his eyes, hot and familiar. They’d stayed civil after the divorce, too much shared history for real hatred, too much love once for indifference. Nabi lived with Hiah during the week, and her weekends stayed with him. It worked. Mostly. Hiah’s family company gave her the kind of flexibility that his own CEO role never would.

“Unless you’d prefer I take her with me.” her sigh was tired; she’d known this conversation was coming.

“Then I wouldn’t see her for a month.” Jin’s voice flattened.

“What do you want me to do, Seokjin? Skip a critical work trip? You know I don’t have a choice.” she pointed out in return.

“What about what’s-his-name?”

Jin didn’t like the new boyfriend, he was too young, too idle, sugar-baby-turned-partner, but the man was kind to Nabi. Still. The thought of him alone with his daughter still twisted something protective in Seokjin’s chest.

The woman replied way too easily: “He’s coming with me.”

“Of course he is.” Seokjin scoffed, the sound scraping his dry throat.

“Don’t be like that. I didn’t come for permission. I’m letting you know I’ll be gone for a month.” Hiah’s tone made it sound like Seokjin didn’t have an actual choice at all. “You can keep Nabi, or she’s coming with me. Decide.”

Seokjing had no real choice here, so he nodded once, jaw tight. He’d make it work. Rearrange meetings. Be home more. Somehow.

Seokjin walked Hiah out of his office, leading her to the elevator without saying another word. The whole floor was pretty empty, it was a Saturday afterall, which is why his ex-wife knew it would be okay to come over today. 

After waving his ex off with a tired smile, Seokjin returned to his office to find Namjoon and Yoongi already waiting for him there. One of them sported a frown –might have been the youngest– and the other had a grin plastered on his face –might have been the oldest–.

“What did the witch want?” Namjoon asked as soon as Seokjin closed the door to give them a resemblance of privacy. 

The three of them had been friends well before they were ever co-workers, so the two men knew all that involved Hiah and their failed relationship. 

“She’s going to America for a month with her new boy toy and calling it work.” Seokjin crossed to his desk, stomach cramping from skipped food, head still throbbing. 

“Oof, that’s rough.” Yoongi scoffed. “She taking Nabi?” 

Seokjin shook his head, sinking into his chair. The leather creaked under him. “Nabi is staying with me, so that’s good.” 

“Then why the long face?” Yoongi asked, even if he already knew the answer to that question. 

“I’m barely home during the week, how am I going to look after her?” Seokjin ran a hand through his raven hair, slouching against his chair in a way he’d never allow anyone else to see. 

“Don’t you have a housekeeper that’s there every day?” Namjoon questioned, leaning back against his own chair. 

“Yeah, but Mrs. Bak is old. She can’t keep up with an almost two year old and take care of the house at the same time.” Seokjin’s head fell back, staring at the bright white ceiling. 

“Doesn’t Nabi have a hot sitter already? She’s young, looks to be in good shape.” the wiggle in Yoongi’s eyebrows made Seokjin regret ever letting his best friend meet you. 

“Ah yes, the hot babysitter. There, problem solved.” Namjoon nodded, sharing the feeling behind Yoongi’s sly smile. “More than one problem could be solved if you just–”

“Her name is Yn. And she’s only Nabi’s sitter during the weekends.” he interrupted, ears hot from the new direction of the subject. 

Yoongi shrugged. “So? Pay her more and have her there everyday.”

You had been working for him for the past six months, so it’s not like you were a total stranger. But then again, this wasn’t the deal you had when he first hired you. Seokjin knew you were taking classes, and the commute to and from his home every night, then going to university… Even if the pay was good, it would still be too much.

“So here’s a crazy idea.” Yoongi announced. “Why don’t you just ask her to live at your place for a month? Then she’d always be there to help you. And Nabi goes to a daycare right? Yn could still go to class then.”

In theory, that sounded like a perfect solution. Simple. Easy. 

But, to Seokjin, nothing was ever easy when it came to you. 

"I'm leaving, Yn." 

The kind voice of Mrs. Bak called out as you were in the living room with Nabi. The toddler was starting to grow sleepy from a full tummy, getting a little fussy, but you always tried keeping her awake in time for Mr. Kim to get home so he could be the one to tuck her in for the night.

It didn't always work, and it looked like today was just one of those days. 

"Let's say bye-bye to Mrs. Bak?" you asked the little girl, smiling as her little chubby hand opened and closed as she did what looked a lot like a little wave. 

You picked Nabi up from her play mat somewhat effortlessly, propping her on your hip so you could both walk the old lady to the door. 

"Mr. Kim must be coming home soon." Mrs. Bak told you as she pulled her personal bag over one shoulder. "There’s food for him in the fridge. Make sure he eats, please." 

"Of course. Have a good weekend, Mrs. Bak." you smiled at her, bouncing Nabi on your arm to get her to wave again. "Say bye-bye."

"Ba ba ba." Nabi babbled, twirling her little hand with a small giggle as you bounced her higher. 

"Bye-bye, sweet girls." 

You closed the entrance door, hearing the automatic lock slot into place. Nabi was still smiling when you brought her into the bathroom of her suite bedroom, where the bathtub was slowly filling up. Out of all the kids you ever babysat before, she was the only one who never cried during bath time, always enjoying being in the water. 

Closing the faucet when there was enough water for you to wash the little girl, you checked the temperature written on the fancy turtle shaped thermometer floating inside the tub. 

"Dada?" Nabi asked as you undressed her.

"Sorry, tooks, appa's not home yet."

Her lip wobbled, so you rushed her into the water before the tears could start, handing her the rubber duck and bright pink dolphin. She slapped at them happily, droplets flecking your cheek, giggles echoing off the tiles.

You knelt on the bath mat, sleeves pushed up, carefully washing her while she played. Nabi didn’t understand why her Appa was gone so much, only that she missed him. You felt it too, the ache of their limited time together, the weekends stitched together like rare moments rather than a constant.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, breaking you out of your solemn thoughts. Keeping one eye on Nabi, you fished it out to open the text thread:

Hobito: we’re on our way there rn, yall close?

Gguk: i’m waiting for noona to get here so we can go….

Jiminie: she’s still with the 🥵 dilf?

You: still at WORK 🤨

You: you can go ahead gguk I dunno how much longer I’ll have to stay here. I’ll just meet you guys at the bar. 

It was half past seven when your boss arrived home, thirty minutes after you were supposed to meet your friends for drinks at your favorite bar. Nabi was already out like a light, and you were ready to leave, just sitting on the couch with all of your things packed up when the front door opened.

And then Kim Seokjin walked in and every intention to leave evaporated.

Six months of Saturdays and Sundays, and you still weren’t used to him. The word on the street –as told by Mrs. Bak– was that Seokjin’s mother had been Miss Korea back in the day, and he had definitely inherited her genes. 

If he just had the looks, you might have a little more luck when it came to controlling your ever growing –and extremely forbidden– crush on the man. But on top of that, Seokjin was a good man, extremely kind, always treated you with nothing but gentleness, and a very dedicated father. He was a good seven years older than you, too. And you didn’t know why that mattered, but the deepest, darkest parts of you liked that extra fact. 

“Hi, Yn. I’m sorry I’m so late.” he greeted you with a soft, and extremely tired, smile. “How is she?” 

“Passed out.” you replied with a smile that matched his earnestness. “I tried keeping her awake for you, I’m sorry.” 

The man shook his head, letting his briefcase rest on the closest armchair, like he couldn’t be bothered to put it away right now. 

Seokjin had planned on coming home hours ago, in hopes of spending some quality time with his daughter, maybe talking to you for longer than rushed hellos and dragged goodbyes. But thanks to a system failure in his company, he had to stay longer in the office than he’d liked. 

And now his baby was already asleep, he was exhausted and you were clearly ready to leave. 

“I’m just going to see her real quick, okay?” he spoke with a small sigh, hesitating before adding: “I’d like to speak to you before you go, if you have five minutes to spare.” 

“Yeah, of course.” you nodded with that sweet smile you always had for him, no matter how hard your day had been. You liked playing it off as if his baby was an angel, and most times she was, but Nabi was still a toddler, nearing her terrible twos. And Seokjin noticed the pink marker stain on your new jeans, when it hadn’t been there this morning, along with the very wet spot on your shoulder, probably the result of an eventful bath time. 

Still, you never added any more pressure onto him, never complained. Never nagged him about the amount of extra hours you had to do while waiting for him to get home so you could go on your way. 

And that made it really hard for him to remain neutral when it came to you. To ignore how pretty he thought that damn smile was, how expressive your eyes were and, fuck, sometimes his tired brain ran away from him and made him think about you in other ways. 

Inappropriate ways. 

Ways he should not think about his kid’s babysitter. 

When Seokjin walked into Nabi’s bedroom, he was careful not to wake her. The room was dark, except for the moon shaped night light resting on her dresser. Seokjin leaned over her crib, watching his baby sleep soundly. She was the reason he worked so hard, so he could give her a life where nothing would ever be missing. 

But it still hurt him to think that maybe the only thing missing from it right now was him. 

Seokjin pulled her pink fuzzy blanket higher over her little body, whispering a small ‘sweet dreams’ before leaving the bedroom to meet you outside. 

He found you in the kitchen, pulling out a container of food from the fridge, bags abandoned on his couch and your coat left somewhere in the living room. Seokjin liked how comfortable you were inside his home, instead of being put off by the fact that you moved with more certainty than he had most days. 

“She’s still sleeping?” he heard you ask, answering you with a nod as he begged his brain to behave. “Good. Mrs. Bak left you some dinner, would you like me to heat it up?”

“I’m craving something fresher. Would you eat with me?” his lips were moving before he could stop himself, catching the small twitch of your eyebrows and the quicker blink of your eyes. “Unless you have plans, of course. Which I guess you do, it’s a saturday night after all–”

“No, no plans at all!” you shook your head, pausing his quick spilling of words. “How can I help?” 

“Can you make rice?” 

Your scoff brought a new smile to his lips. As you mumbled about your abilities in the kitchen, Seokjin started to gather the ingredients he needed for a quick bibimbap dish. His kitchen was big enough for the two of you to move around each other without bumping around, but you still did. 

Maybe he walked too close to you on his way to the stove, just so his arm could brush yours. 

And maybe you walked in front of him to grab a spoon, when there was a lot more space to pass behind him. 

It was during times like these that made him believe that maybe his inappropriate thoughts weren’t actually one sided.

“What did you want to talk to me about, Mr. Kim?”

You asked the man, trying to mask your nervousness. 

From the time he asked you to wait because he wanted to speak to you until now, at least a handful of scenarios had coursed through your brain. While you didn’t necessarily need this job to survive, you weren’t particularly interested in searching for a new one either; not to mention you had grown quite fond of Nabi to not be upset if you were about to be fired. 

You also didn’t think Seokjin would be cooking for you right now if letting you go was his intention. 

The man snorted a little laugh. “Please, I’m not that much older than you. I told you Jin is fine.”

You smiled sheepishly, because he had repeated many times not to call him by his last name. And you did try, but calling him by his nickname made you feel a little flustered. And you didn’t need anymore reasons to be blushing around him. 

The way he had pushed his sleeves to his elbows and undid the top two buttons of his light blue dress shirt was face-warming enough. 

“Hiah, my uh– Nabi’s eomma. She’s going out of town for a while. For a month.” the man told you as he fried sliced vegetables on a pan. “Nabi will be staying with me for the entirety of her trip, so I would need you to be here everyday. Not only on the weekends.” 

“I see.” you nodded slowly, knowing Nabi would love to spend that much time with her dad, but knowing it would definitely be a change for Seokjin’s routine.

“I understand it's not the original agreement we had, but I wouldn't want to find someone else to look after Nabi…” Jin turned to you then, forgetting the vegetables to hit you with his best pleading eyes. “And she likes you so much–” 

“You don’t have to convince me, Mr. Ki– Jin.” you reassured him, tilting your head. “I don’t mind the extra work days.”

You would have to move a few things around and would probably get behind on your studies, but this new deal would be just for a month… And you were mostly taking online classes this semester, so you could make your own schedule. You could make this work, if it meant making things easier for Nabi and her dad.

“Really? You’d be doing me a very big favor. You’ll get paid for this, of course, and you can take the weekends off. Hiah really just threw this on me, I don’t know what I would do if you didn’t agree.” Seokjin had a way of spilling phrase after phrase when he got nervous, which you thought was endearing and slightly funny. 

You waited for him to finish so you could ask: “Will the schedule remain the same?”

“Ah, well. So.” you watched as he changed the pans on the stove top so the vegetables could rest while the pieces of meat fried. “Unfortunately, I need to stay later in the office during the weekdays. I’ll try to change my schedule for the month, but I don’t know how that’s gonna work.”

You frowned, nibbling on your lip as a thought crossed your mind: “I live a little too far away from here, so I have to check the bus’ hours–” 

“Yeah, I thought about that too.” Seokjin turned his back, wide shoulders blocking your view, but you still saw the tips of his ears growing a shade darker. “I can prepare the guest bedroom for you. If you wouldn’t mind staying here for that period of time.” 

JULY 3RD | 15:19

"So let me see if I got it right." Hoseok was laying on your bed as if it belonged to him. "You're about to spend a whole month living at your boss' house?" 

"The man you've had a crush on ever since you met him." Jimin added, laying next to Hoseok. 

"Not that deep, guys. Mr. Kim needs my help, so why would I say no?" you shrugged, giving them your back to stare at, rather than letting them read your expression like an open picture book. 

It was the Sunday you were supposed to temporarily move into Kim Seokjin’s home and you were still packing your suitcase. Jimin and Hoseok had invited themselves over to help you, but all they were doing was putting ideas on your mind and hope in your heart. 

"See, babe? Mr. Kim needs her help." Jimin told Hobi with a wiggle of his eyebrows. 

You rolled your eyes, even if they couldn’t see it. "I'm never telling either of you shit ever again."

"Go easy on her, babe, she's still in denial." Hoseok told Jimin in return, the both of them giggling like the disgusting couple they were turning into. 

"I'm not in denial!" you said, too defensively for your own liking. As you moved around your room to pick up whatever you thought you might need, you continued: "Do I think Seokjin is very attractive? Yes I do. Do I have crush-like feelings for him? Sure. Do I think something will ever happen? Absolutely not. See? Not in denial."

"You wish something would happen, though." Jimin piped up, sitting on your mattress. "Your cousin is not here, you don't have to lie to us." 

"I'm going to work,” your sigh was exasperated. “I can't be thinking about any of this." 

"Look, all we're saying is you're both grown adults. As long as what you do doesn't affect his kid, you don't have to be so hard on yourself." Hobi reasoned. “The Yn I know goes for what she wants.” 

“What I want right now is to finish packing before he gets here.” 

You ran away from both boys when you walked into your bathroom to pick up your toiletries. Seokjin had told you he’d have the guest bedroom ready for you, and you knew it had its own bathroom, but you shouldn’t expect him to provide you with basic things like a toothbrush. Right?

Once you came back into your room, Jimin was nowhere to be seen. By the noise you could hear coming from the living room, Jeongguk was home now, which meant Jimin was most likely annoying him, or getting annoyed by him. 

Your best friend, however, stayed behind.

Hoseok was folding the clothes you had somewhat carelessly thrown into your small suitcase and he was doing a much better job of it. Suddenly half of the space was cleared out and you had more of it left. 

Hoseok lifted his head when you approached. "You're not gonna be held hostage, right?" 

"No, Hoba, I have my weekends off." you assured him. "We can still see each other during the week too, just gotta plan first." 

The man helped you zip up your bag and carried it to the living room, where his current-fling was playing video games with your cousin. As you changed your cotton shorts for denim jeans, your phone buzzed with a new notification.

Mr. Kim: We’re outside, you can come out whenever you’re ready!

You: Coming right out!

It was a Sunday, so Mrs. Bak wasn’t working, which meant Nabi would be with Seokjin and you were always really excited to see her. Which would explain the thump on your heart; it had nothing to do with her father waiting outside. At all. 

“Noona, if he does anything, you call me and I’ll fix it, okay?” Jeongguk said as he waited with you in the hallway, trying to look more menacing than he actually was. 

“Don’t worry, Gguk, I promise I’ll be alright.” you held back a small laugh. 

You squeezed your cousin into a hug before the elevator reached your floor. Jeongguk was only a few months younger than you, and you had grown up together so he felt more like a younger brother. Of course he was huge now, in height and muscles. 

“Text me later!” Hoseok’s voice was heard between squeals and TV noises. 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t fuck on my bed!” you warned, dead serious. “Byeee.” 

Jeongguk waved until the elevator’s door closed, and you held the little wave back until the last sliver of his grin disappeared behind the narrowing seam. 

The doors opened again a minute later, and the lobby smelled faintly like polished stone and someone’s expensive cologne, the air conditioning too cold against your arms after the warmth of the upper floors. Your shoes clicked across the glossy tile as you crossed toward the glass doors, and you caught your own reflection for a second, a flicker of nerves in your posture that you smoothed out before you could think too hard about it.

Outside, the heat hit you all at once again. It clung to your skin and pressed against your lungs, turning the air thick with exhaust and sun-baked concrete. The brightness made you squint, and you lifted a hand to shield your eyes while you scanned the street, blinking through the glare. It took a few seconds to find the car, parked across the way like it had been there countless times; dark paint throwing back sharp flashes of light whenever a bus rolled past. 

Seokjin stepped out and the sunlight made him look sharper around the edges, crisp shirt sleeves, watch glinting when he adjusted the keys in his hand. The Ray-Bans hid his eyes, which somehow made him harder to read and easier to stare at all at once. He looked like he belonged in a magazine spread about men who never sweated, even though the heat was brutal, even though you watched the faintest shine start at his temple the moment he paused to look at you. He was smiling already, easy and practiced, but there was something under it that didn’t feel like the version of him you got on weekends. Something tighter at the corners.

You felt it anyway. The small shift in the air when he was focused on you. The way your name seemed to take up space in his mouth even when he wasn’t saying it.

"Hi! Let me get that for you." the man was smiling, reaching for your suitcase, polite as ever.

"Oh, thank you!" your voice came out lighter than you meant it to. 

You forced your fingers to loosen, to let him take the weight without making a big deal out of it, but you still felt the brief brush of his hand against yours. It was nothing, you told yourself. It was a complete accident. Yet it was still enough to make you aware of the inside of your wrist for the next three seconds.

Seokjin lifted your bag like it weighed nothing, and you hated the way your brain catalogued it. The flex of his forearm, the clean efficiency of the motion, the fact that he didn’t fumble, didn’t hesitate.

For a second you hovered beside the vehicle, hand on the door, caught between instincts. Your job was Nabi, she was the whole reason for this change in your own routine, so your place was in the backseat with her. But this was Seokjin’s car, and Seokjin was driving, and there was something about sitting beside him that felt too much like a temptation for you to ignore.

You glanced through the backseat window, finding that the choice had already been made for you. The seat beside the baby chair was taken over completely, Nabi’s oversized diaper bag sprawled across it, straps tangled and a little plush toy clipped to the zipper swinging gently with the motion of the car settling.

Front seat it was.

You pulled the door open and slipped into the car, immediately twisting in your seat and reaching back without thinking, your attention snapping into that familiar, practical focus that always came with Nabi. Her cheeks were pink from the heat, fine hair doing that soft baby halo thing that never stayed where anyone put it, and she was half sunk into the padding of her car seat like it was the most natural throne in the world.

"Hi, tooks." you leaned back to poke at her half-covered tummy, fingertips gentle. Nabi squealed and curled, hands immediately going to her own belly. She’d been obsessed with her belly button lately, like it was a discovery she couldn’t believe belonged to her. "Ohhh look at your piggies! Appa's getting better with your hair."

A few stubborn strands still stuck up at the crown, but the little pigtails were actually holding, and that alone felt like an achievement.

"Dada!" she agreed with a sweet baby giggle, bouncing her pudgy legs hard enough to make the whole seat shift a fraction.

You laughed under your breath, soft and automatic. "They almost look symmetrical today."

The driver’s side door opened and closed, and the car dipped slightly with Seokjin’s weight. You didn’t look right away, which was ridiculous, because of course he was there. Of course he was sitting a few centimeters away. But you still felt the change in the space, the way the quiet settled differently once he was inside it.

Seokjin cleared his throat, and when you finally glanced forward, you caught the faintest bashfulness in the set of his mouth. It wasn’t dramatic, it was just there, in the way his hand went to the back of his neck for half a second before dropping, in the way he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel like he was checking that he was doing this correctly.

He reached toward the dashboard and picked up a laminated sheet, the edges catching the light. He held it out to you without quite looking at your face, like he was offering evidence that he had everything handled.

"That's Nabi's weekly schedule." he told you, and you could hear the pride he was trying to keep casual. "Her mother usually took her to these, but I already let them know you'd be the one to go with her for now."

You took it, doing a quick scan with your eyes. There were color-coded blocks. Little icons. Neat labels. The kind of organization that screamed overreaction.

“Okay.” you kept your tone professional as you nodded. 

You lowered your gaze to the page as he pulled away from the curb, the city sliding past the windows in bright, shimmering strips. You read through the schedule while Seokjin merged into traffic, the hum of the engine steady under your feet. Most days Nabi had daycare, which would be good. It meant a few hours where you could breathe, catch up on projects, work on your assignments without a toddler climbing your lap like a jungle gym. There was a baby swimming lesson once a week too, and you could already picture her in one of those tiny floaties, furious and delighted at the same time.

But then–

“Speech therapy?” you asked with a frown, eyes dropping back to the laminated schedule. “She’s not even two.”

Seokjin’s hands stayed steady on the wheel. He didn’t look at you, but you caught the tightness in his jaw, the way his gaze stayed fixed ahead as if the road required all of him.

“Her eomma thinks she should know more words by now,” he said, voice even, CEO-like, as if he was presenting a decision that had already been made. “And I agree.”

You turned in your seat to glance back at Nabi. She was strapped in, round cheeks, toes flexing in her little socks as she kicked at nothing. Her hands were busy with the strap across her chest, fingers exploring it like it was new every time.

“She knows words.” you said, softer now, because Nabi was right there, because it felt wrong to talk about her like she couldn’t hear you. “She asks for apple juice when she wants it.”

Seokjin exhaled through his nose, almost a laugh. “‘Apu joof’ is not knowing words.”

“Apu joof!” from the backseat, like she’d been waiting for her cue, Nabi chirped with little claps and an enthusiastic kick that thumped her heel against the car seat.

“See?” you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at you. 

Seokjin’s mouth twitched, the closest he got to an actual smile, and then it was gone. He kept his eyes on the road, shoulders still too straight, and you felt the line he was holding between being a father and being a man who was expected to be perfect at everything.

You swallowed the rest of what you wanted to say. You were torn between defending a tiny toddler and knowing your place as the babysitter, as the employee, as someone who didn’t get to have opinions unless asked.

Seokjin didn’t say anything else, either. The silence wasn’t harsh, but it was a boundary, and you read it the way you’d learned to read him.

So you let it go.

The city moved around you in a bright blur. Heat shimmered off the pavement. The air conditioner hummed cold against your arms. The laminated sheet stayed in your lap like something heavy even though it weighed almost nothing.

After a minute, Seokjin spoke again, as if the previous topic had been filed away. “You have a driver’s license, right?”

“I do, yeah–” you glanced up, and the storefront ahead made you pause. A familiar sign, white lettering on dark glass, a place you’d been too many times to count. Relief came quick and impulsive, like your body was looking for a safe detour out of the tension. “Oh, look. Are you hungry? There’s a great coffee shop just up ahead.”

For a beat, Seokjin didn’t respond. You could almost see him toggling through all the things he still needed to tell you; Hiah’s notes, the schedule, rules, expectations. He looked like a man who lived by lists. Stopping for coffee wasn’t on the list.

Then his eyes flicked toward the shop. Toward the open parking spot just up ahead. Toward you, for half a second behind the sunglasses, quick enough that you couldn’t read the look but long enough to feel it.

He signaled and pulled in.

The moment the car settled into the parking spot, the atmosphere shifted. Less motion, less distance, just the three of you in a contained space. Seokjin turned the engine off, and the sudden quiet made Nabi’s little noises feel louder, more present.

“I’ll get her.” he said, already unbuckling his seatbelt.

You watched him leave the car and go to his daughter, careful and practiced in a way that still looked slightly new on him, unfastening Nabi’s straps with a gentleness that didn’t match his earlier firmness. He lifted her out, and she went pliant against his shoulder for two seconds before she craned her neck, looking for you.

You stepped out into the heat, the sun immediately finding your skin again. The sidewalk outside the shop was warm under your shoes. A soft breeze carried the smell of baked sugar and coffee through the door every time someone went in or out.

You waited near the entrance while Seokjin locked the car, Nabi perched on his hip. The little wisps of hair he’d half managed to tame into pigtails brushed his cheek with every bounce she gave, and he didn’t even flinch. He just adjusted his hold and walked toward you, expression light like he hadn’t just gotten into a disagreement about speech therapy five minutes ago.

Inside, the café was cooler, dimmer. The air smelled like espresso and cinnamon and toasted dough, comforting enough that it softened something in your chest. The line moved slowly, people chatting in low voices, cups clinking behind the counter.

Seokjin stood beside you, Nabi in his arms, and you became absurdly aware of how close his shoulder was to yours. How his presence took up space in a way that made you want to step away and also… not.

“What’s good here?” he asked, glancing up at the menu like he’d never once had to choose something for himself without an assistant.

“Everything. But the cinnamon rolls are to die for.” you said. Then, because you couldn’t help it, because you wanted to break the stiffness that still lingered between you, you leaned in toward Nabi. You pointed at the toddler’s thighs, all soft baby roundness, and your voice dropped into the tone you always used with her. “Not as good as these rolls.”

You pretended to nibble at Nabi’s leg.

Nabi shrieked with laughter, squirming so hard Seokjin had to tighten his hold. She swatted at you with clumsy little hands, face scrunched in delighted outrage, and you leaned back just enough to let her “win.”

Then she lunged.

One second she was in Seokjin’s arms, the next she was throwing herself toward you like she’d decided this was the correct place to be. Seokjin’s body reacted, arms shifting instinctively, but he hesitated for a fraction too long like you weren’t supposed to be the one she reached for like that.

You didn’t hesitate, catching her easily, settling her against your chest like it was the most natural thing in the world. And Seokjin’s heart did a thing he refused to name. He blinked once, expression unchanged, but his hand stayed lifted for a beat as if it had forgotten what it was doing. Then he lowered it, clearing his throat.

“And what will you drink?” he asked, tone carefully neutral, like he hadn’t just watched his daughter choose you.

“Iced americano, please.”

You shifted Nabi on your hip, already reaching for your bag to grab your wallet, but your hands were full, Nabi’s fingers grabbing at your shirt collar like she owned you.

Seokjin moved faster, but not in a cutting way. More like he’d already decided you shouldn’t have to juggle a toddler and a wallet at the same time. His phone was out before you even found the zipper, thumb already on the payment app.

“Jin–” you started, reflex more than protest.

He finally looked at you then, just for a second, and there was a softness there that made your stomach dip. 

“It’s fine.” he said, quiet, almost reassuring. “I invited you into this. Let me take care of it.”

The words should have felt simple and practical, placing the orders at the cashier before you could protest any longer. 

Seokjin chose a table by the glass wall, sunlight spilling across the wood. A high chair sat nearby, abandoned by the previous family, and Nabi’s expression soured immediately at the sight of it, little mouth turning down like she’d been personally offended.

“She’s not going to like that.” you murmured.

 “Yeah,” he glanced at his daughter and his mouth quirked, the edge of a smile tugging through. “I know.”

You sat and helped Nabi into the high chair anyway, because routines mattered and you were good at this. Nabi fussed, twisting and reaching for you with grabby hands, whimpering the moment you stepped back.

“It’s okay, tooks.” you soothed automatically, and Seokjin hovered for half a second like he wanted to reach in and fix it with his own hands. You grabbed the toothpick holder from the table and slid it toward her, tapping it lightly like it was fascinating. “Look. What’s this?”

Nabi’s eyes locked onto it and curiosity won. She poked at it with one finger, then two, then tried to pick it up with both hands as the tension in your shoulders eased a little.

Seokjin let out a breath, gaze softening as he watched you. It wasn’t just gratitude. It was that quiet, helpless kind of admiration that made him look away for a second and then look back, like he didn’t know what to do with how easy you made taking care of a toddler seem.

“How do you know this place?” he asked once the three of you settled, voice lower now as the café noise wrapped around you.

You tilted your head toward the window. “You see that tattoo shop across the street?”

He followed your gesture. Across the road, the hair-salon-turned-tattoo-shop sat with its lights off, shutters down because it was Sunday. The sign above it read Bangtan Ink, bold letters against the facade.

“My best friend owns it.” you said.

“Oh.”

Seokjin nodded, still looking where you’d pointed, like he was filing the detail away on purpose. Bangtan Ink was Hoseok’s long life dream, the quaint little place in Myeongdong. You had worked there as a receptionist for a couple months before he found someone nice enough to take your place.

Any questions he might have asked were interrupted when the Moonlight waitress arrived at your table with your drinks and pastries.

Nabi had been fully entertained by the toothpick holder, shaking it with both hands and squealing whenever a toothpick slipped free and clattered back into the little container. Each time it happened she giggled like it was the funniest trick in the world, cheeks lifting, eyes going crescent-shaped with delight.

But the second your dessert hit the table, it was like a switch flipped. Her head snapped toward the plate. Her whole body leaned forward in her chair as she reached with grabby hands, fingers opening and closing with urgent insistence. A soft whine built in her throat, half-demand, half-plea.

“You want it?” you asked, already tearing off a small piece before she could get her hands on the whole thing. The pastry was warm, the cinnamon smell rising in a sweet cloud as you broke it apart. Nabi watched every movement like you were performing magic. “Can you say ‘cinnamon roll’?”

Her mouth opened. Her brows pinched with concentration. A sound came out that was more enthusiasm than language, a string of babbles with the rhythm of a sentence, ending in a proud little chirp as if she’d nailed it.

Seokjin couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out of him, breathy and surprised, like it had been sitting in his chest waiting for permission. 

“Alright.” he said, shaking his head once, amusement softening his face. “I see what you’re doing.”

“She’s almost two.” your smile sharpened, eyes bright with it. “She should know how to say it.”

Jin knew you were teasing him. He also knew you weren’t doing it to make him feel small. You were doing it the way you did everything with Nabi, coaxing and playful, turning pressure into a game she could win. And for some reason, instead of bristling, he felt something loosen in him.

Seokjin watched you offer the bite to Nabi, watched the way you waited, patient and unhurried, letting her take it at her own pace. The way you wiped the corner of her mouth with your thumb without making a fuss. The way you talked to her like she was a person, not a job.

Maybe it was because you treated his daughter with a kind of care that always caught him off guard, like you didn’t even realize how rare it was.

Or maybe it was purely you. The easy warmth you carried into a space, the lightness in your smile. The way you made his life feel less like an obligation he was failing and more like something he could actually live in, even if it was only for a few minutes at a café table with cinnamon in the air and his daughter’s laughter filling the space between you.

Seokjin looked at you, then at Nabi, and felt the thought settle with unsettling clarity.

He was in big trouble.

JULY 7TH | 21:48

Nabi had been sleeping for several hours now, which meant you were supposed to be resting. She had only woken up again forty minutes ago, but overall you learned very quickly that she was a heavy sleeper. Living in someone else’s house –even if temporarily– was a little weird, and you were still getting used to it. 

It’s been four days since you moved in last Sunday, and taking care of a toddler everyday was a lot more daunting than you ever thought it would be. There were a lot more tantrums when she didn’t want to get ready for daycare, a lot more tears when you knew she was most likely missing her mother, and a hell of a lot more running around. 

But there were also a lot more cuddles, a lot more giggles and an overload of cuteness. Plus, it meant you could eat Mrs. Bak’s food everyday and didn’t have to cook at all. The woman did the cleaning and the cooking –adult food and baby food–, so you only had to worry about the toddler. 

The guest bedroom Seokjin had prepared for you was a lot bigger than your own, but it felt strangely untouched, like a hotel room someone forgot to bring life into. The sheets were crisp, the bedside lamp perfectly centered, the closet empty except for extra hangers. You told yourself you’d bring something small next time you went home, a candle, a framed photo, even one of your throw blankets, anything that made it feel less like you were intruding in the space.

That thought stayed with you as you crossed the living room on your way to the kitchen, bare feet quiet against the floor, the apartment hushed in that late-night way where even the air felt softer. Nabi had gone down without a fight for once, and the silence still carried a faint echo of her giggles.

“Hey–”

“Oh, shit!” your whole body jumped, hands flying to your chest as you veered toward the nearest wall switch. Light flooded the room, sudden and bright, and your heartbeat kicked up hard enough to make you dizzy for a second.

Seokjin hissed under his breath and blinked against the brightness, one hand lifting instinctively to shield his eyes. You felt your cheeks warm immediately, a mix of embarrassment and the lingering shock of almost having your soul leave your body.

When your pulse finally stopped trying to escape your ribs, you looked at Seokjin properly, sitting on his couch.

Jin’s shirt was still buttoned, but the crispness was gone, fabric wrinkled from hours of wear. His dark navy tie hung undone around his neck, the knot loosened and tilted, like he’d given up halfway through pretending the day hadn’t gotten to him. His hair was messy, not in a styled way, just genuinely out of place.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” his voice came out tired but warm, and a small chuckle followed as he leaned his head back against the couch again.

“How long have you been there?” you asked quietly, still trying to shake off the adrenaline.

He shrugged, gaze drifting toward the dark window like time didn’t matter right now.

For the past four nights, Seokjin hadn’t come home before ten at night. He’d warned you he was rushing through his schedule so he could come home earlier in the following weeks, so he could actually be present with Nabi. You understood it in theory. In practice, it still made something twist in you every time you heard his key in the door when the apartment was already asleep.

You watched him for a second longer than you should have. His shoulders looked heavy in a way they didn’t during the day. His mouth was set, but not harsh, just worn down at the edges.

“Would you like a drink?” you kept your tone light, helpful, giving yourself something simple to do with your hands and your nerves.

“You're not here to work like that. Nabi is in bed, you should rest too.” he sounded tired, but not dismissive, like he meant it as care and not an order.

“I don’t mind Mr. Kim.” you shrugged, trying to make it feel casual, like your heart wasn’t still beating too fast.

His head straightened, and for a moment he looked like he was choosing his words carefully. Not because he didn’t trust you, but because he might not trust himself.

“Only if you drink with me. And if you stop calling me Mr. Kim.” the corner of his mouth lifted, small and quiet, the closest thing to a smile he’d offered so far.

“Okay, oppa.” the honorific left your tongue easier than it should have, sweet without you meaning it to be.

Seokjin didn’t say anything, but you felt his attention follow you as you crossed the living room. Your pajamas were simple, soft cotton with little red hearts scattered over them, the kind of set you’d wear without thinking twice in your own apartment. 

You reached up to the high cabinet where the alcohol was stored safely out of reach from toddler fingers, your fingertips brushing the wood before you found the handle. The glass bottles clinked softly when you moved them, a small sound that felt too sharp in the quiet.

“Stressful day?” you asked, glancing back at him as you set the chosen bottle down.

“Stressful week. Month. Year.” his voice was dry, but there was no bite in it, just exhaustion.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” you meant it, along with the softness around your words. 

You poured two small glasses, the amber catching the light. The smell of whiskey rose up warm and sharp as you carried them over, careful not to spill. Your hands looked too delicate around the weight of the glass.

Seokjin took his time sitting up. He accepted the drink, fingers brushing yours as you passed it, and the contact lasted half a second longer than necessary. He stared into the glass like it held the answers he’d been looking for. You could see the strain in the line of his brow, the way his shoulders stayed tense even here.

Then the words slipped out of him, rawer than you’d ever heard him.

“My friends think I should just get laid.” he said it like he was testing how it sounded in the room, and his eyes flicked to your face immediately after, as if bracing for impact.

Your feet halted mid-step as you moved to sit beside him, surprise tightening your throat. For a second you just stood there, the whiskey steady in your hands, the apartment too quiet.

“I shouldn’t speak like that. I’m sorry, it’s unprofessional.” his voice softened on the apology, sincere and a little frustrated with himself.

“My workday ended when Nabi went to sleep.”  you lowered yourself onto the couch with him, careful to leave a respectful space in between you. “It’s okay, I'm not a child.”

“I know.” he swallowed, gaze dropping to his glass. It came out low, almost too honest.

You took a slow sip, letting the burn give you something to focus on. The whiskey warmed your throat and settled in your chest, and you tried not to think about how aware you suddenly were of his breathing beside you.

“You’ve been divorced for a year right?” you asked after a beat, voice gentle, offering him an easier path back to safer conversation.

“Hm.” he nodded slightly, eyes still forward.

“How long has it been then?” you continued, and you felt your mouth go a little dry as you asked it. This was new territory, and you knew it. You could feel the line under your feet, thin and dangerous.

You weren’t blind to the way he sometimes watched you when he thought you weren’t looking. You weren’t innocent enough to pretend the soft, lingering touches were always accidental. There were moments that sat between you like questions neither of you knew how to ask out loud.

Seokjin took another sip, then let out a quiet chuckle that didn’t quite reach.

“If we’re really talking about this I might need another drink.” he cracked his neck, rolling it once, then again, as if trying to shake off the tension that lived in his shoulders lately.

Your heart thumped harder at the movement, at the faint glimpse of skin where his collar had loosened.

After what felt like too long, he spoke again:

“I haven’t been with anyone after my divorce.” he said it plainly, like he was ripping off a bandage, following the words with large gulps of the golden liquid.

“What? How?” the surprise escaped you before you could smooth it into something more polite.

“I work late, and I get Nabi on the weekends. Besides, even if I did find a date in between, I come with baggage.” the reasons came out practiced, like he’d been repeating them to himself for a long time, like he knew he was giving you excuses.

You didn’t take another sip of your own drink, just held the glass in both hands on your lap, feeling the cool rim under your fingers.

Seokjin looked at you over the edge of his glass. His eyes were steady now, and the directness of it made heat creep up your neck. You wanted to shift. You wanted to pull your legs closer. The living room felt warmer than it had a minute ago. The air conditioner hummed softly somewhere in the background. The city lights outside painted faint reflections across the glass wall. Nabi’s bedroom stayed silent down the hall.

You were painfully aware that the house had gone quiet hours ago. Nabi asleep, Mrs. Bak long gone, the hallway lights dimmed to soft amber. Just you and Jin on the wide sectional in the living room.

You shouldn’t have asked. You knew it the second the words left your mouth:

“You don’t have to find a new wife to feel good, oppa.” your voice came out softer than you meant, almost careful, like you were handing him an out. “You don’t like fucking casually?”

Seokjin’s breath hitched. Not loud, but you heard it: the tiny catch in his throat, the way his fingers flexed once around his glass before going still. He looked down at the dark gold swirl inside it, then lifted his eyes to yours. Guarded. Open. Something raw flickering behind the calm he usually wore.

“I’ve been with Hiah since school.” just fact, laid bare. “Can’t say I ever have.”

The silence that followed pressed against your eardrums. Heavy and warm. You realized you were holding your breath, chest tight, skin prickling where the air touched it. His gaze didn’t waver, and you wondered what he saw on your face.

Your pulse thumped loud in your ears, louder than the faint hum of the fridge in the kitchen. The couch leather creaked when you shifted, just an inch, but it felt like the room noticed.

Hoseok’s voice cut through your head then, sharp and fond as if he were lounging on the armrest beside you: The Yn I know goes for what she wants.

And right now, god help you, what you wanted was Jin.

You set your glass on the coffee table, the clink sounding obscene in the quiet.

“You deserve to be taken care of too…” you said, words steady even though your hands weren’t. “I don’t have to be here just for Nabi.”

Jin didn’t miss the promise behind your words, he couldn't have. Not when his eyes darkened half a shade, not when his Adam’s apple slid on a slow swallow.

Your name left him soft, almost a sigh. “Yn.”

The sound of it in his mouth twisted something low in your belly. Fear spiked sharp behind your ribs: rejection incoming, this fragile thing about to shatter.

“Don’t talk like that.” it came out rougher than he probably meant, edged with a groan he couldn’t quite swallow nor hide.

“Why?” you asked, bolder now. Heart hammering so hard you were sure he could see it under your shirt.

“We shouldn’t.” his voice dropped lower. Eyes locked on yours, dark and unblinking, like he was trying to talk himself out of the gravity pulling him closer.

“I know.”

He said your name again and this time it wasn’t a warning, but a plea. A crack in the wall he’d built around himself for years.

You watched the exact second he gave in: the almost-imperceptible nod, the slow blink, the faint lift of his brows like he was asking ‘are you sure?’ and answering himself at the same time.

You moved before you could second-guess it. Reached for his glassfingers brushing his, warm and steady, and set it beside yours with a quiet clink. Then you were climbing over him, one knee planting on the cushion beside his thigh, the other swinging across until you settled in his lap.

Careful. Slow. Like approaching something wild that might bolt. And he let you.

Jin didn’t pull away, he didn’t push. Just exhaled shakily as your weight settled, thighs bracketing his hips, palms finding his shoulders for balance. The heat of him seeped through his shirt instantly, solid chest rising and falling too fast, the faint tremor in his hands where they hovered at your waist, not quite touching yet.

You weren’t used to being the one to start things like this, the bravery you were wearing felt paper-thin, nerves churning hot in your stomach.

“We don’t have to–” his voice cracked on the last word, like reading your hesitance as regret, as if you’d already changed your mind. His hands finally settled, light, tentative on your hips like he was afraid to hold on too hard.

“Please, oppa.” it came out smaller than you intended.

His thumbs flexed against the fabric of your shirt, like he was testing the reality of you there. Then his grip tightened just enough. Enough to say yes.

“Wanna kiss you.”

The confession slipped out when you caught his gaze lingering too long, too heavy on your mouth. You’d fantasized about those lips for months: plush, pink, always curved in that gentle half-smile when he thanked you for staying late. Now they parted slightly, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet them in a slow, unconscious sweep that felt like an invitation he hadn’t noticed.

Your hands were already braced on his shoulders, fingers curling into the crisp cotton of his shirt. You leaned in inch by inch, giving him every chance to pull back. He didn’t.

The first press of your lips was soft, tentative and almost polite. His breath rushed warm against your mouth, carrying the faint, dark strength of the whisky you’d both been nursing. Then his lips parted wider and yours followed, tongues brushing in a slow, exploratory glide. 

You tilted your head the opposite way, chasing the angle that let you sink deeper. Your chest brushed his; the hard plane of him against the softness of you. A tiny sound escaped your throat, half sigh, half moan, and he swallowed it, answering with a low, rumbling hum that vibrated through your ribs.

Jin’s fingers flexed on your hips, tentative at first, then firmer, like he was reminding himself he was allowed to hold you here. The pressure sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly. You stayed still for a heartbeat, letting the kiss stay languid, sensual, tasting him like you had all night. But then he tugged, subtle, but insistent, pulling your hips forward until your core settled more fully against the growing hardness beneath his slacks.

A groan tore from his throat, muffled against your mouth.

Your fingers slid into his hair, threading through the soft strands at his nape, tugging just enough to tilt his head back so you could kiss him deeper. You rolled your hips once and felt him twitch beneath you. Hard and ready. 

The realization hit like a spark: Kim Seokjin, your boss, the man who paid your salary, the father of the little girl you had just tucked in to sleep, was losing composure under you. The power of it made your head spin, dizzy and intoxicating.

You broke the kiss when your lungs burned, pulling back just enough to see his face. Pupils blown wide, dark and glassy. His lips were even redder now, swollen from your attention, parted on shallow breaths. Beautiful and ever and absolutely wrecked.

“I can feel you…” you whispered, voice small and shaky despite the boldness still thrumming through you. Another roll of your hips, harsher this time, grinding down deliberately, and his cock jerked against you through the layers of fabric. “Always wanted to–”

“Fuck.” the word punched out of him, rougher than you’d ever heard. His hands slid lower, cupping your ass with both palms, squeezing hard enough to lift you slightly before guiding you back down in a slow, controlled drag against him. “You’re driving me crazy.”

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, lips brushing skin, open-mouthed, hot, not quite a kiss but close enough to make you shiver. His breath fanned damp across your collarbone as his right hand slipped under the hem of your pajama top, fingers splaying across bare stomach, then higher, stopping just shy of your breast. Thumb brushing the underside, testing.

Every cell in him screamed conflict. This was wrong on every level he could name: you were too young, too bright, too much his employee. The same girl who smiled sweetly when Nabi babbled at her, who never complained about late nights. And here he was, thirty-something, divorced, supposed to be the responsible one, rutting up into you like he couldn’t stop himself. His cock throbbed painfully with every grind; his mind yelled at him to pull back, to apologize, to remember the power imbalance he held even now.

His body ignored it.

“Touch me, Jin.” your voice cracked on his name, soft and pleading.

He exhaled hard against your throat, then his hand moved. Jin cupped your breast fully. The weight of it filled his palm, soft and warm, nipple already peaked and dragging against his skin. He rolled it gently between thumb and forefinger, testing, and you arched into the touch with a whimper that shot straight to his groin.

He thrust up instinctively, hips chasing friction like he was twenty again and hadn’t touched anyone in years. The friction was maddening; too much fabric, not enough skin.

You giggled suddenly, breathless.

“Wrong one.” your voice was teasing, light despite the tremor in it. You pushed gently at his shoulders until he eased back, dazed eyes tracking your movements. “I have something to show you. Hope it’s not a deal breaker.”

He froze. “Mm?”

Then you hooked your fingers under the hem of your top and peeled it off in one smooth motion.

The air left his lungs in a sharp, audible rush.

Your skin glowed under living room lights, smooth, flawless, untouched by time in a way that made his chest ache with something like reverence and guilt all at once. Breasts round, perky, nipples tight from the cool air and his earlier attention. And on the left one: a delicate barbell piercing, two tiny pink heart-shaped gems glinting on either side of the small bud.

He stared. Mouth open. Brain short-circuiting.

“Holy fuck.” he breathed.

Your earlier words clicked into place. Hope it’s not a deal breaker.

Seokjin’s cock gave a hard, helpless twitch in his pants. He could’ve come right then, fully dressed, untouched beyond the grinding.

“That’s…” Jin swallowed, voice gravel-rough. “That’s sexy as fuck.”

His eyes flicked up to yours, dark, hungry, but still holding that last thread of restraint. One hand stayed on your hip, thumb stroking slow circles like he was anchoring himself. The other lifted, hesitant, reverent, until the pad of his thumb brushed the barbell. A tiny tug, barely there, and your back bowed, a soft gasp spilling from your lips.

He watched your face the whole time. Watched the way your lips parted, the way your pupils swallowed the color of your irises. Watched you react to him.

And something possessive and dark flickered in his chest.

You giggled again, soft, surprised, and so delighted when his reaction wasn’t shock or recoil but pure, unguarded hunger. Seokjin didn’t strike you as the type: polished suits, boardroom voice, the kind of man who probably thought body mods belonged to rebellious college kids. Yet here he was, eyes dark and glassy, thumbs already circling the tiny heart-shaped gems like they were something precious.

Both hands cupped your breasts now, warm palms cradling their weight. He flicked the barbell once, gentle and testing, and a sharp hiss escaped you, spine arching involuntarily. 

“Does it hurt?” his gaze snapped to your face, chocolate eyes searching.

“Only if you pull it, or bite it.” your voice came out breathy. You reached up, fingers sliding into his hair, pushing the messy strands back from his forehead. They were wilder now than when you’d found him alone in the living room, disheveled by your hands, by your want. You cradled the back of his neck and guided him closer until his lips hovered over your chest. “But I like it.”

He exhaled a shaky chuckle against your skin. “Of course you do.”

The sound vibrated through you. He’d stopped expecting predictability from you tonight; every layer you peeled back surprised him, enticed him more. His cock throbbed painfully inside his trousers, the head already slick and leaking enough that he could feel the damp patch spreading against his thigh. He tried not to think about how pathetic it was, how long it had been since anyone had touched him like this, how fast you were unraveling years of careful restraint.

“I’ve been told it feels quite good on your tongue too.” you whispered, nails scratching his scalp. 

Seokjin’s mouth found the soft valley between your breasts first with open kisses, slow drags of tongue, tasting salt and warm skin. Then he moved higher, lips brushing the underside of one breast before teeth grazed the side in a sudden, possessive bite. Not hard enough to bruise, but firm enough to mark. You gasped, fingers tightening in his hair, the sharp tug sending fire across his scalp.

A darker part of him reared up at the thought: others had seen you like this. Tasted you. Known the hitch in your breath when they played with that piercing. It was irrational, unfair and slightly hypocritical, but right now, with you trembling in his lap, you were his. He wanted the evidence of it on your skin, even if just for tonight.

He soothed the bite with a slow, wet lick, tongue flattening over the faint imprint before trailing kisses upward. When he reached your nipple, he paused, breath hot against the tight peak, then wrapped plush lips around it. The barbell clicked softly against his teeth; he rolled the metal between tongue and roof of his mouth, savoring the cool silver contrast against your fever-hot skin. He sucked with gentle pulls at first, then deeper, tongue flicking the heart charms in quick, teasing strokes.

Your hips stuttered, grinding down harder. Through his slacks and your thin sleep shorts, he could feel the slick heat of your pussy soaking through; wet enough that every roll dragged obscene friction against his aching length. The sounds spilling from your throat were filthy-sweet: soft whimpers building to breathy moans, louder with each swirl of his tongue.

He pulled off with a wet pop, lips glistening. 

“Shhh, baby.” his voice was low, rough, edged with sudden awareness. Nabi’s room was only a hallway away. “Gotta be quiet.”

“Fuck–sorry.” you bit your lip, trying to muffle yourself, one hand still fisted in his hair while the other slid down his chest, over the hard planes of his stomach, until your palm cupped the thick ridge of his cock. You squeezed, firm and exploratory, and felt him jump under your touch. “You feel so good, though.”

Jin groaned into your neck, hips jerking up instinctively. Your small hand worked him through the fabric, stroking the length, cupping the heavy weight of his balls, and every pass sent sparks up his spine. His stomach clenched, balls drawing tight. Too much. Too fast. He hadn’t been this close to the edge from dry humping since he was a teenager.

He tried to hold it back, tried to breathe through it, but your thumb swiped over the wet spot at the tip, pressing just right, and the dam broke.

“Oh–fuck–”

His whole body locked up. Cock pulsing hard against your palm, hot spurts soaking through his boxers and slacks in embarrassing waves. He trembled beneath you, breath ragged, face buried in your shoulder as the aftershocks rolled through him.

You froze for a heartbeat. Then your fingers gentled, stroking him through the mess without pulling away.

When Seokjin finally lifted his head, his cheeks were flushed crimson, eyes glassy with mortification and lingering heat. Frustration flickered there too, annoyance at himself, at his body betraying him so quickly.

“It’s okay.” you whispered, cupping his jaw to tilt his face up. You kissed the high flush on his cheekbones, then his swollen mouth. “Really.”

“How can you–” his voice cracked. “That’s not–”

“It’s flattering.” your smile was sweet, not teasing. “Means you wanted this as bad as I did.”

He exhaled hard, something loosening in his chest. He didn’t bother with excuses; it had never happened before, not like this. But the truth was humiliatingly simple: you undid him. Your scent clinging to his shirt, your taste still on his tongue, your nails on his scalp, your hips never giving him a second to catch his breath. Too long without touch. Too much want.

And now he had something to prove.

You started to shift, ready to climb off, already mentally filing this under incredible makeout, maybe a cold shower later, but Seokjin moved faster.

One arm banded around your waist; the other braced on the couch. In a smooth, controlled motion he flipped you both. Your back met the cool, wipe-clean leather with a soft thump. You squeaked, half surprise, half laugh, and the sound vanished as his mouth covered yours again, deeper this time, hungrier.

He settled between your thighs, weight pinning you deliciously. One hand caught your wrists, lifting them above your head and pressing them lightly to the cushion, not restraining, just holding. A quiet reminder of who was bigger, older, the one who could stop this with a word if he wanted.

He didn’t want to stop.

Jin’s free hand dragged down your side in that slow and possessive way, fingers tracing the dip of your waist, the curve of your hip, before slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. Not diving in yet. Teasing the sensitive skin just above your mound.

He broke the kiss, lips brushing your ear.

“You’re really gonna have to be quiet for this, baby.”

The word slipped from him again, and your heart stuttered hard enough you felt it in your throat. He hadn’t called anyone that in years. Hadn’t wanted to. Until you.

“For what?” you breathed, already knowing, already aching.

Seokjin’s mouth curved against your collarbone. “For when I make you cum on my tongue.”

Your breath snagged. Back arching off the leather as he began his slow descent, kissing the soft swell of your stomach, dipping his tongue into your navel just to feel you shiver. Jin’s hands roamed your thighs: warm palms sliding up the insides, thumbs brushing dangerously close to where you were already dripping for him. You bit your lip hard, trying to swallow the sounds clawing up your throat, eyes locked on his face as he explored you like he was memorizing every inch.

“Can I take these off?” he paused at your hips, voice rougher than you’d ever heard it. “Please, oppa–” The plea came out whisper-thin, hips already lifting to help.

The man hooked his fingers under the waistband of your cotton shorts and dragged them down, slow enough to make you squirm. When they cleared your ankles and he realized you were bare underneath, a low, guttural groan tore from his chest. He sat back on his heels for a second, just staring.

Completely naked under him while he was still in his half-unbuttoned shirt and slacks, cock visibly thickening again behind the damp fabric. Your skin flushed hot under his gaze, breasts heaving, nipples still shiny from his earlier attention, the piercing glinting in the low light. Thighs trembling. Pussy glistening, swollen, lips parted and slick.

“Fuck,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Look at this soaked little pussy. So fucking pretty.”

“Seokjin– please–”

Your whine cracked the quiet. He exhaled hard through his nose, then lifted one of your legs to drape over the back of the couch, the other falling open to the side. The stretch exposed you completely, cool air kissing wet heat, making your hole clench around nothing. His broad shoulders settled between your thighs as he lowered himself, stomach flat to the leather, face inches from where you needed him most.

He didn’t tease for long.

Jin’s tongue pushed between your folds in one long, slow drag, parting the sticky mess, flattening to lap up the flood of arousal coating you. The taste hit him like a drug: sweet-tart, heady, addictive. He swallowed audibly, moaned low in his throat, the vibration rumbling straight through your clit.

“Goddamn–” he growled against you. “You taste so fucking good.”

You slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle the whimper that threatened to be too loud. The other flew to his hair, fingers twisting tight as he licked you open, broad strokes from your entrance to your clit, then back down, tongue dipping inside your fluttering hole just enough to make your hips buck. His large hands clamped your thighs wider, holding you pinned and spread while he devoured.

When his plush lips finally closed around your clit, you nearly sobbed. He sucked, gentle pulls at first, then harder, tongue flicking rapid little circles over the swollen bud while the flat of it pressed and rolled. Wet, obscene slurping filled the room, mixed with his muffled groans of pure enjoyment. He wasn’t breathing properly, too focused, too greedy, but he didn’t care. Neither did you.

Your hips rolled up to meet his mouth, grinding shamelessly against his face. Slick smeared across his chin, his cheeks; he only pressed deeper, nose bumping your clit when his tongue fucked back inside you.

“Jin–fuck–oh shit–”

You were trying. You really were. But the man was relentless; tongue swirling in tight, filthy patterns you didn’t even know existed, lips sucking your clit like he was starving. One hand slid up to pinch and tug at your pierced nipple; the sharp spark shot straight to your core.

“Gonna cum–don’t stop–please–”

He hummed approval against you, vibration ripping another choked moan from your throat, then did something wicked: pointed his tongue and twirled it around your clit in fast, tight circles while sucking at the same time. Your vision whited out. Back bowing off the couch, thighs clamping around his head, fingers yanking his hair so hard it had to hurt.

You came hard, a shattering, silent scream trapped behind your palm. Waves of pleasure crashed through you: pussy clenching and gushing against his tongue, legs shaking, toes curling. He didn’t stop, licking you through every pulse, slower now, savoring the fresh flood of wetness until your hips jerked from overstimulation.

When you finally collapsed, limp, boneless, chest heaving, he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against your inner thigh. Lips and chin shiny with you. Breathing ragged. Eyes dark and blown when they met yours.

Your name left him like a prayer. “Baby…”

He kissed the soft skin of your thigh once, then again, higher, tasting the mess he’d made of you.

Your vision was blurry with static, limbs falling limp on the couch as you forgot your own name. 

But mostly, summer just means Namjoon and Jin fucking on every horizontal surface available, and even some vertical ones when Namjoon is feeling particularly energetic. Filling the house with the distant sounds of slapping skin against skin, high-pitched moans, and deep growls.

It has Tae distracted from her world full of monsters and magic (and a heroine that looks like you and talks like you and just might have your eyes). Eyeing the ceiling in her little library room, a tell-tale trickle of dust interrupts her work from the heavy banging of the headboard above. Granted, it’s hard not to get distracted by it or dragged into it. The pack alpha and pack omega have reached new heights of audacity since their mating. They can hardly keep their hands off each other for a single hour.

You compare notes. They’ve fucked in the kitchen 5 times this week, the pack's old bedroom each time before that, and the hot tub so much that Yoongi had to drain it and replace the filter.

Namjoon has had a singular, all-consuming sort of focus on Jin since their mating. Both marks are red scars now, healed enough that the pack can touch them- something that you do often. It's all gentle strokes of hands over Namjoon’s throat when he’s lying prone, every inch of his body taught like a wire about to snap, grumbly growls slipping out every time you put your thumb to where Jin’s canine pressed. Or Yoongi in the shower with Jin, lazing about in the water. cheek resting against Jin’s dewy collar bones, nose pressing when Jin grants his husband the permission of “take what you need.”

It’s a pretty mark, smaller than yours by half a measure, because Jin’s plush lips had sort of gotten in the way. The space between Jin’s incisors and front tooth makes a lopsided little heart that the pack is a bit obsessed with and routinely teases Namjoon for to the tune of “Joonie, your heart is showing”. Namjoon's mating mark on Jin’s throat is a little less front-facing and a little more to the side, so pretty and just peeking beneath a wide collar. Less pink and less fuzzy at the edges, because Namjoon hadn’t had to bite deep to mark Jin, but Jin-

Jin had sort of mauled Namjoon- just a little. A deep mark, a complete claim. Unquestionable.  

You listen to them fucking, sort of endeared, sort of annoyed. Not that they wouldn’t drag you into it if you asked or dared to come too close. Or if you did something snarky, like bang on the wall to get them to quiet down. When you shift right, you can still feel the result of wandering too far into their orbit just the day before.

The hunger of a new mating mark knows no bounds, not for the pack alpha and pack omega, having one of their pups between the two of them, debauching and riling them up to the fullest extent, until there’s little more than a slick, soaked mess between your thighs is their idea of a perfect morning.

You might have had to beat them off of Yoongi with a newspaper when he complained of feeling sore. They’d raised their arms a little chagrined, looking a little younger and a bit more in love than usual. Communicating volumes with a single look- only to scamper off and immediately hassle Jungkook, who was only too happy to take Yoongi’s place.

Sometimes the noise gets to be a bit too much for you, and you go with Tae to the café in town. It’s a bit shitty, a bit old. The chairs aren’t deep enough to feel cozy, and the coffee is burnt.

It’s not the same 24-hour coffee shop that Yoongi and Jin used to work at; that one has suspiciously shuttered its doors sometime in the last few months. You have no doubt that Yoongi’s family is slowly closing out its fronts across this city- or maybe just in your corner of it. It’s wise to give Yoongi, you, and Hoseok a wide berth, and you can’t say you’re not happy with the distance.

It’s a nice place to sit with her and sip at your little drinks (its pastries are unfortunately sub-par). Even if there are things you’d change, the chairs for one, the dark walls another. But Tae looks pretty by the big window, the sunlight making her hair all red instead of just tawny. It becomes one of your favorite things- taking pictures of her and posting them to your old Instagram.

It’s a little sparse, since all of your pictures from your life before are deleted now. Lingering in your archive only when the pack asks to see pictures from your wedding or something else. You let them cycle through and don’t even consider seeing pictures of Geumjae because that’s not for you- not right now.

Now, your Instagram is littered with pictures of you and Tae playing dress up. Hobi and Yoongi at the beach this summer. Dots in the night sky from a late-night drive where you and Hobi drove to where the cliffs from up north meet the sea, and you had a perfect view of the moon and the Milky Way, and the lights on the horizon, a ship or an ocean liner off the coast right where the sky meets the sea. Distant but bright.

There you’d both reclined on the hood of the still-warm car. Whispering secrets between the two of you for old times’ sake as you watch the moon rise over the ocean, and watch the sea flow as if in slow motion. Your shoulder and his shoulder and only your shared sweatshirts between. Lulled to near sleep by the sound of Hoseok’s voice, roughly confessing.

“I think if we didn’t have the house, I’d want to live out here. Even though half these cottages look like they’re about to fall into the sea.”

Each picture on your Instagram might only get 7 likes, but it’s still nice to have that again. A sense of normalcy to have people to post to and post you. You take a picture of yourself, and the first thing on your mind isn't if you're worth it or if it will get you the bad kind of attention. There’s a sense of camaraderie to have Jin spamming your comments with a million hearts and Yoongi to comment, “wait, when did you take this?” To a picture of him open-mouthed, napping on the couch. It’s a bit of an archive.

Well, you don’t always get 7 likes; sometimes you get tons if you happen to post a picture of a certain blond-headed alpha. It’s hard to get used to. Sometimes you get…comments from Jimin’s fans. Most of them are relatively harmless.

'Oh my god he looks even better when they’re domestic together,' and 'pack goals,' or 'is this one his mate? She looks like an omega.'

'No it’s the other girl I think, and look at that mating mark. I think Jimin would tell us if he was mated.'

'Good that means I still have a chance.'

The ones that go farther from speculation, you just delete and let them wonder. Everyone is adjusting. Bit by bit. Week by week. It’s hard to realize where the empty spaces are in your life; the bits that don’t fit. You just have to wait until the right thing slips into place.

At the café, you play footsie with Tae under the table and watch her over the edge of your phone, skimming through TikTok or anything that holds your attention. Tae isn’t writing so much anymore- she’s just editing, which somehow requires more of her focus. You watch her crinkle her eyebrows and rub her lower lip, and reach to wipe her hands before she has the chance to get lipstick on her keyboard.

It’s something you see Yoongi do often, and it’s good to mirror him (he’s always sort of been teaching you how to love), but it’s hard for you to sit for too long before you get restless because now that you’ve started to work out regularly and move your body; It’s hard not to want to move all the time, to sort of need it.

You’re getting better, even if you don’t realize it.

~-~

Jin has been…well… ‘Threatening’ isn’t exactly the word for it, since the mating.

After the first few weeks of ‘no one but you guys can even look at Namjoon without me needing to bounce on his knot for a few hours,' the initial breeding frenzy has subsided. Jin is a touch calmer than the pack had ever seen him. Before he’d been stubborn, needing to handle every little thing for the pack, but now things are a bit looser, Jin's control slips in ways in never would have before.

These days, you guys talk about things a whole lot more. You’re not sure why, but maybe it feels like everything is truly over. Nothing is looming over your heads except for the rest of your lives. No murders or monsters or pasts waiting to bite, and no shoes waiting to drop.

Maybe it’s because there’s no hiding now; Jimin is in every other magazine, staring blandly out from behind blue bottles of perfume or modeling garish little vests (that Jungkook ends up wearing with nothing underneath). Jin has Namjoon's mark on his throat and Yoongi's ring on his finger.

He can feel their bond like a tangible thing in the corner of his mind. Namjoon's emotions are soft and often achey. Jin can't really feel them, not in the way that he can feel his own emotions. It's more like the sense of something that's hot or cold. Happy or distressed that comes ferried through a constant pressure and a pervasive feeling of steadiness. The mating bond is a tether, that keeps Jin from tipping over.

If getting mated felt like jumping from a high height, then Namjoon’s very being was what kept Jin from crashing into the uncertain future below. Every bit of Namjoon belongs to Jin.

Everything from his frosted tips to his gentle hands and rippling back muscles. The crinkle at the corner of his eyes and the way he laughs when one of the pups surprises them, or does something so cute that Jin can't help but feel the instinct to bite and settle. Everything about Namjoon is his. Will always be his. And will never stray far from him.

Coming up and settling into the bond feels like the most complete form of being, like the moment between a fireworks sparkle and its boom. The moment that the world holds its breath before sunrise.

Jin has never felt calmer.

Now that Jin understands what it means to be mated to someone, it makes the beginning of your relationship with Yoongi and the dependency you had on him (and continue to have sometimes) a lot more rational. And this bond is only half as strong as the one that you and Yoongi have.

The guilt is an unintended side effect of that.

Jin doesn’t hide it this time; he shares it. You stay up and talk about it just the two of you in the center of the nest. The little lacy tank top that he put you in earlier is distracting down to the last thread. It's plunging neckline tempts Jin's thoughts and his fingers.

Jin doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to it; how much he loves you and how big the emotion feels in his chest. Some of it has to be from Namjoon. Everything still feels big and new, intense. He’s sort of getting used to Namjoon being everywhere. There's no such thing as personal space. No such thing as a separation between either of their decisions, emotions, or scents.

Namjoon's coffee scent now has a slight milky undertone, and Jin's likewise, has shifted from dollops of whipped cream to something slightly more savory and mature. It's something the pack can't get enough of (especially the alpha's) pressing their noses against throats, pushing each other out of the way because sharing is hard sometimes. cautiously stealing little nibbles until Namjoon's growl inevitably makes them whine and back down. He wakes up like that every morning.

Jin is realizing lately that these everyday habits are going to be the rest of his life, and it makes him feel like there's a lump in his throat. How good this is, how lucky he is to have a mate like Namjoon. The love and fierce protectiveness over pouring.

Thats how the mornings go- but the evenings always end up like this; Namjoon pressed hot and alpha along his spine, nosing into Jin's nape like he just can’t get enough of the other's scent. Hand possessively wound around Jin’s waist to cup his stomach while you linger and shimmy just a little closer, Hobi's knee between your legs.

Jin dips his fingers along your sternum, never going lower than your neckline. Touching just to touch. Fingers skimming over the silk dimple where your nipple sits, the half there imprint in the silk where your skin darkens.

Your pink collar sits on your clavicle, just as pretty as the day Jin bought it for you, although the bell is detached so that you can move around freely without waking the others. It’s a comforting weight around your throat, and although you aren’t in subspace or omega space and you haven’t had any sort of scene tonight, your eyelashes still flutter when Jin tugs. Fingers occasionally tangling with the metal loops whenever your attention sways.

The metal of Namjoon’s sits hot against the center of Jin’s back, and Hobi's puppy tag glints in the half light from the dimmed-down Christmas light above. And every other snore Namjoon’s breath becomes a growl. Hand twitching around the pack omega’s waist, hand splayed across his stomach under his sleep shirt.

But while the rest of the pack slumber on, you and Jin talk.

“When we first met, how long had it been since like you and Yoongi had-”

“About oh- I don’t know- maybe 8 weeks?” Your cheek dimples against your hand, and Jin pauses to curl a lock of your hair over one finger and then the next, examining it for split ends just in case he needs to schedule you another appointment. Things like that have slipped his attention recently, but at your words, Jin pauses his examination.

It’s been 9 weeks since the mating. Too long but not long at all; it still feels raw, even the skin around Jin's mating mark is still sensitive enough to ache. Mating marks are generally slow to heal.

“You’re kidding?” Jin picks himself up in the nest to look at you, and you smile sadly. Jin’s incredulity does not disturb the quiet; his hands stroke down your waist, from your ribs to where it tapers, the thick flush of your hips and down, only to trail back up again. “I don’t know how I never realized it was that soon.”

“Yeah, it was a bit of a mind fuck.” You tip your head back and let him touch his fill. You are in no position to deny him anything- not that you’d ever want to. Jin could drag you over his lap right now for a settling, and your only complaint might be that it would wake the others.

And Tae needs her beauty sleep.

She's laying on her side just behind Yoongi in a matching slip to your top. The silk mask over her eyes. Hair spilling close to Jimin's hand, like he'd fallen asleep wrapping it around his knuckles again and again. The repetitive action is soothing to Jimin’s senses. It’s sweet to see, to connect the still life of your pack to their routine. Jungkook’s loud snoring punctuates the quiet.

“I couldn’t even like, let him up to go to the bathroom sometimes.”

“I’m sure he loved that.”

You snicker, and Hobi shuffles closer behind you. You’re not sure if he’s awake or not. He noses forward, nose hitting the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck. “Pretty sure I gave his bladder permanent damage, but he also went through this stage where he wouldn’t let me walk on my own and wanted to carry me everywhere, so it was very tit for tat.”

You tip your head down, shy about the way that Jin is looking at you, and feel the cool press of Hobi's lips against your spine. The warmth of his breath and the press of his stomach against your back as he inhales. Jin’s dark hair lies over his forehead, watching the two of you with something hungry but unvoiced behind his expression.

“I was also like- really fucking weak at times so-”

Jin tugs at your collar. Finger trailing up to your chin. “None of that. No negative self-talk.”

Jin’s fingers trail lower, and you shimmy, not uncomfortable, but very aware of your own desires, very aware of how this is a serious conversation and so not the time but.

“Jinnie-” you whine.

Jin’s fingers press as he cups your ribcage, fingers teasing oh so gently. Thumbs rubbing circles. “What? You said Tit?” You laugh and press yourself into Jin’s front, your packmates around you snuffle, and Namjoon’s next breath is definitely a half-awake growl. You lower your tone when you pull back, grinning at Jin. His smile stays mostly the same, but then falters. His hands smooth up and back instead of to the front. His fingers splay across your scapula to your spine. Drumming there. pulling you away from Hobi, who lets you slide away.

Jin doesn't take you over his lap, he doesn't reach between your legs or do anything sexual. He shuffles so that you can lie on top of him, putting both his arms around you and pulling you snug. Until all of your weight is across him. A lying down hug. "there we go. that's better"

"Jinnie?" you try to pull back, but his arms keep you where he needs you. and his next breath is shakier that you expect, eventually his hold loostens, and you can pick yourself up to look at him again.

“Sorry. instincts." he shakes his hair out of his face, and when you glance back, you realize Hobi's moved in his sleep, chasing you. "But still, when I think about how I shoved you, how aggressive I was- I’m lucky you didn’t rip out my throat.”

You lean your chin on his pectoral, watching him work through it. “The validation of you saying that feels nice, even if it’s been years.”

Jin shakes his head, plush lips pressing together in displeasure at how you dismiss it. “Just one year, I shouldn’t have-”

“Jin, you’ve already apologized for it like a million times-”

“But still-”

“If you really want to apologize, you could-" Jin’s face dips, nipping at your collar right where he knows you're ticklish, and peals of laughter and giggles join the quiet as you squirm away. Hobi makes a noise in the back of his throat as you wiggle into him. Jin holds you where you are, but the nest shakes with the sound of your laughter.

Tae is the only one to wake up at the sound, sitting up with a fluff of silk and feathers and a crinkle of the duvet. Taking off her mask with a pout. Glossy eyepatch sliding off her cheek. Disapproval radiated along her glower.

The alpha huffs and leans over to hook her fingers into your collar. Giving you a little shake. You smile through it, and when you pull back, Hobi's half-open eyes are glaring at you in the darkness. “Sorry” you say. Shrinking.

Jin’s giggle has the nest shaking again. And his hand wraps around your waist again, this time more firmly. “I’ll settle her Tae.”

~-~

Jin has a fair amount of work to do now that Jimin is sort of a superstar.

They still haven't found an adequate solution to his agent and manager problem. And Jin is reluctant to let that kind of control slip to someone who isn’t pack. There are magazines littered around the house, contracts in big piles. Sample photos and headshots in Manila envelopes. Yoongi had Jimin's first advert framed and put in the stairwell so that the pack can pass by it every time they come upstairs. Jimin hasn’t been a cover model yet- but it's only a matter of time.

There are dozens of other photos hanging in the stairwell too; a picture of you all at the beach. One of you and Tae are all dressed up with more glitter than skin showing. A photo with a Noodle wearing one of Tae's silk scarves around his neck like a bowtie.

A picture of the pack, long long before you and without Hobi too. Jimin, Jungkook, and Taehyung look impossibly young. Probably from soon after they'd all moved in together. A baby photo of Jin in a pint-sized hanbok, one of Namjoon and a dozen other pups who all look vaguely like him in front of a big mid-century house. One of Hobi standing in front of a carousel.

One of Yoongi at the old coffee shop with Jin, looking so lanky that it’s hard to believe he was ever that small, and one of Hobi and him at the record store, sitting on stacks of old speakers, jeans cuffed, the phone that took the photo probably propped up against some boxes. Most of them are grainy and taken with old iPhone cameras but you can feel the fondness, the love, the joy, even through time.

But there’s one photo, halfway up the stairs, that you avoid looking at if you can help it. It's not a bad photo of you by any means. 6 months ago, you would have said it's the prettiest photo of you ever taken.

It's one of the first you’d ever taken at the house, shortly after the pack had moved in last summer. It's innocuous, maybe Tae took it or Jin- but in the photo, a sickly looking you is curled up with Yoongi on the porch. A plate full of watermelon rinds sits on the table in front of you all. Chewed and mostly green. Jungkook is equally asleep on the opposing sofa. Your eyes closed, and your cheek resting against your mate's throat, tired because your body just hadn’t had enough energy to keep going back then.

But how could your arms look so brittle? And was your hair really that thin? Did you always look so miserable?

The bags under your eyes are darker than bruises, and the way you're holding your body- you can feel the hurt all the way from here. You don’t know when your body stopped aching, when everything stopped hurting, only that you’re different now. Sometimes, when no one is looking, you pause on the staircase eye level with the photo and stare at the version of you that you no longer recognize. A time that you can’t really remember all that well.  

Yoongi notices, because Yoongi notices everything when it comes to you.

He comes upon you one morning, behind you as you pause. Tae is already upstairs getting ready, one or two packmates showering off the nighttime. You paused there in your fuzzy socks and a big shirt of Namjoon’s passing for pajamas.

The house is full of giggles and quiet. Noodle meows while Hobi feeds him. Tae says something to Jimin that makes Jin laugh upstairs. The sound of Jungkook softly singing under his breath. Namjoon clanging through the dishes from breakfast. His turn this morning. Your turn tomorrow.

You turn, registering that Yoongi’s coming up behind you, that you’ve been caught. “Oh, I was just-”

Your excuses die in your throat but you stay put as Yoongi ascends the steps to where you stand in front of the picture. It’s normal-sized, 4 by 6 inches of pure misery. You flush at being caught, although you’re not sure why you don’t want him to know you’re ruminating on it.  

“Ah, that one.” He says when he sees what photo you’re looking at. “I could be wrong, but I think that might be the first photo we have together.” He smiles at it. And you shift. Nervous.

“Oh, It is? I just-” you look back at it, and Yoongi sets his hand on your waist, looking too.   “Does it bother you? I can take it down, I know it’s not from like- a good time but-” Yoongi looks at it, lips quirking. And doesn’t say what he maybe could have. That it wasn’t a good time in your lives, but Yoongi can’t let go of the only time he got you all to himself. That it reminds him of the intention behind love.

Mating marks can only do so much, even beta ones.

It’s a reminder that you two can love each other, but it’s always something you’ll both have to work at. You and Yoongi will never have a blow-up, you’ll never assume you know what’s best for each other, or love each other without hope behind it. Maybe that’s why he’s fond.

Maybe.

“It doesn’t bother me.” You say, and you decide that it’s the truth. “I just didn’t realize how I looked back then.”

Yoongi just taps his fingers on the banister of the stairs. Watching you and the curve to your cheeks and chin, the curve to your whole body. So different from where you started. There’s nothing sexual to Yoongi’s comparison; there's no worth that he ascribes to the version of you in that photo that he doesn't give you now. Only the trickle of a memory and the quickening of his heartbeat.

He steps closer to you. “Yeah. It was pretty scary.”

“I’m sorry.”

Yoongi shrugs. Cupping your elbow with his hand. A small request for you to continue up the steps. After a moment, you do. Ascending into the pack’s bedroom where the sound and scent of Jimin and Jin are closer and Tae's giggle sounds even sweeter. “It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault for being so sick.”

“How long are you going to say that?”

On the landing, he shrugs, hands in his pockets. Takes one of them out and tugs on your sleeve. It’s an oddly childish action for him, and you realize with a pang that he must have picked it up from you. It’s strange how you leave your mark on people, how you take pieces of them and they take pieces of you. Yoongi smiles at you and says, “Until you believe it. Probably forever if you need me to say it.”

The distress is suddenly overwhelming, and unlike before, you don’t hide it. “Yoongi, I was doing that to myself-”

“And you made yourself get better too-”

You snort, “I definitely did not. You and Jungkook like- force fed me for a whole 3 months.”

His head tilts to the side. “You know I don’t like it when you say force feeding.”

“I- sorry.”

“It’s okay. Just never again.” Yoongi says it solemnly, and it sounds like a promise as you nod. Yoongi takes your hand in his, fitting his fingers in between yours until they tap at your knuckles. Guiding you gently to the bathroom. “It doesn’t matter anymore. You’ll never get that bad again.” Yoongi stares at you, waiting for you to say it back.

“I won’t.”

Yoongi sticks out his pinky. And the rest is history.

(The two of you leave the picture there and let it be. It’s not the last photo that the hallway will get- and that’s a marvel, isn’t it? That you have your whole lives to look forward to. That your pups' first day of school pictures and graduation photos will one day be hung here (like your and Tae's wedding photos and Jimin’s 3 Vogue covers, like Tae's Pulitzer Prize certificate for her 5th book, and an article about your café in the paper,

but I’m getting very, very ahead of myself here.)

~-~

Jimin hasn’t been on the cover of Vogue yet, but someday soon he will. His career is moving at lightspeed. It’s been maybe 4 weeks since the whole ‘Mr. Park’ thing. You think that maybe it will never slow down but that that might be a good thing for Jimin as you eat late summer watermelon with the pack on the porch. Waiting for Jimin to come home from an early morning photoshoot.

When he does it's with a smile, taking the stairs two at a time and doing a twirl to show off his new outfit- that he definitely didn't leave the house in to all of you sitting there.

Namjoon smiles from the doorway at Jin coming up the stairs, in their own little world as they drag Jungkook upstairs for god only knows what (probably a bit of nasty filthy sex, not that the other omega is at all complaining)

Jimin smells like vanilla and expensive shit as he ducks low for a kiss and then flops right there in all his Gucci glory. Hobi leans over and puts his finger through the artfully distressed holes in his sweater. “The director liked me so much they let me walk home with this shit-”

“Oh, I’m totally stealing this,” You grill him. You want to know everything, and none of it is a secret. You steal his fancy sunglasses and trade them back and forth with Tae, slung across Jimin’s lap like some sort of willowy daydream straight out of Sappho’s poems. And Jimin gets progressively more flustered the more she trails her nose up the column of his throat. Increasingly more distracted as he tells you about the mansion on the cape and the castle by the sea and the liquid organza suit coat they put him in.

"You should be the model, not me," Jimin tells her, but Tae just shrugs, before leaning forward to grab a perfect chunk of watermelon. Pressing the pink square between her teeth with a juicy squish that you feel in your tummy for some reason. When you look at Hobi, he's grinning at you knowingly. You flush and look away, feeling found out for some reason.

"I like writing more than I like being pretty, and this way I get to have the designer stuff without any of the work."

Jimin trails his nose along the crown of her head. "One of the many benefits of being my girl, I guess." Jimin teases, fingers slipping lower on her waist.

"Many benefits huh? Tell me more. What else do I get from this arrangement?" Jimin's fingers continue to trail lower, cupping between her legs, and you lean up, slap him a little.

"We are on the porch Jimin, anyone could see."

"I'm not doing anything."

"You are literally kneading Tae's ass like a dough ball."

"Well come over here and I'll knead yours too. You can consider it practice for when we make salt bread again."

"You're impossible."

"Impossibly attracted to both my girlfriends is what I am."

Hobi's eyes naturally travel to your back end, blatantly poised in his direction as you lean over the coffee table.

You jump. Flushing terribly, looking over your shoulder at Hobi, who looks at his phone like he hasn’t done anything at all. He's scrolling through something, and when you lean back into him with a huff, you realize it's a sample of the photoshoot. Jin must have sent him the pictures.

Hobi has sort of been helping Jin wade through some of the paperwork for Jimin's job. It was a mountain of work for Jin alone. And asking Hobi to get a second look at some things was second nature.

“It’s not a big deal, they literally just ask me to touch my face and then take a picture.”

Hobi scrolls through, “Easy money. These are like- so fucking good.”

“Easiest money of my fucking life, I fell asleep during makeup today and they freaking cooed at me-”

"You never fall asleep when I do your makeup."

Jimin leans forward to nip at her jaw. "That's because there's an incentive to stay awake." Tae hadn't gotten flustered, had just looped her arms around Jimin’s neck and whispered something into his ear that made him go bright red.

Jimin hasn’t had to go anywhere international for his job yet- but he did go to Los Angeles last week. A city that Jimin described as too hot and too sprawling. That you’d have hated all the traffic and Ubers. You’re surprised Jin didn’t go with him.

You know why he didn’t go- because he's worried about you and your application to culinary school. You have this near vibrating anxiety while you wait and wait and wait to hear back. But there's been nothing.

Nothing so far. Sometimes you wonder if it's even worth all this stress and effort. You'd be happy here just living like this for your whole life. Money is not an issue. You have enough money where you could all honestly do that without feeling the consequences for several decades, if not the rest of your lives, if you invested it properly, but…

Managing Jimin has been amazing for Jin's mental health. And Jimin likes it too. And maybe you want something like that- a purpose. Yoongi has the house, Tae has her book, Jin has Jimin but you. What do you have besides this?

It feels good to have something to look forward to, something to do beyond just twiddle your thumbs, love them, and wait for your life to pass.

Even if you’re scared.

~-~

Late that night you take one of your late night drives with just Hobi. You go to your spot and get greasy drive in food and enough french fries to put an elephant into a food coma. In the car with just Hobi, you tell him.

"I think I want to open my own cafe." He raises his eyebrows at you. Lips fumbling with a straw between his teeth, sucking down his soda. The car idles warm and the night outside hovers quietly. You haven't even told Yoongi this yet.

He puts his cup in the cup holder. "Before school or after?"

"After. If I even get in-"

He scoffs, rolls his eyes a little, you hit his shoulder. he goes for your armpit, and you jerk, ticklish. "Of course you're going to get in-"

You shimmy in your seat. Wound up. "Okay but anyways- maybe it could be a cafe and a bakery or maybe just a bakery. Or both- or-" you turn to him, the paper crinkle of paper between the two of you tossing crumbs on the floor that he doesn't comment on one bit.

"Alright. tell me about it." You start to talk, to outline it, starting slowly at first and then faster. Your words rapid fire.

Hobi turns down the music and listens.

~-~

You still haven’t heard back from culinary school. Still haven’t found out if you’ll get to attend this fall. You checked a few internet forums, and you know the first round of acceptances has already gone out. It’s easy to second-guess yourself, easy to assume that you won’t get in during the second round, at least not this year.

It’s a simple morning when it happens.

The curtains on the porch wave and waft in a breeze that comes all the way from the sea. Tae picks out your mug for you as you move slowly, bumping into anything that moves too quickly. Namjoon catches you before you crash into one of the chairs at the island, ducking down to kiss your forehead with a soft smile before moving you in Tae's direction, your de facto minder for the morning.

The weather is shifting into something colder, and maybe you cling to the nest a little bit more on these mornings when the threat of fall tickles your ankles.

Tae tugs you this way and that, tickling you under your arms so you squirm against her front while Yoongi pours your coffee, glances over his shoulder at you once and then again. Tightening your robe around your waist when you shiver. Jimin is away this weekend at a shoot in the city (for an underwear shoot of all things), and it has everyone a bit on edge. Just one night. He should be home by dinner. It's easy to tell themselves that, but-

Tae is always a little extra clinging and domineering when he's gone.

You’re ready to recline with her wherever she might put you and go back to sleep to pacify those instincts. You love cuddling with Tae. Love it so much you think you can’t bear it sometimes when she wiggles away in the early morning to go edit (the nerve). Like she did this morning, and you woke up pouty and a little grumpy over it. Eager to accuse her of neglecting you (and get some kisses afterwards).

You’d all but shuffled into her library room, settled on her lap, leg on either side of her waist in the chair, slightly bigger than the old one. The others got it for her when she realized how much she didn’t mind you curled against her front last winter, but you’d wound your arms around her shoulders and promptly gone back to sleep for a few minutes. Before Hoseok’s humming in the kitchen and the smell of coffee and pancake batter had tempted the two of you out of your little bubble.

Now, the cup of coffee that's on the table is doomed to go cold. Noodle yowls, and you tuck your face into Tae's tummy, putting the hem of her shirt over your eyes and closing them. She laughs and says something that's not meant for you to reply to. Your thoughts swirl with ebby patterns of comfort, too warm to think straight, finally finally horizontal on the couch.

Namjoon hums, and you feel a hand crest your knee, shifting you so that your hips are in line with your spine. Namjoon is so-

You press up into his hand like a cat, fingers digging into the pressure points on the back of your neck, not scruffing you, but close.

Happy shivers go up and down your back as Namjoon rubs, and you think you might chirp a little, or purr, or both. His answering hum is deep and sweet as he runs his fingers over your shoulders, squeezing just until the pressure releases. He laughs when you make another noise after he stops. His sleep-roughened voice is all grumbly as he says, “Still tired? Maybe we should take you back upstairs.”

Hoseok disappears from the room, his humming goes as does his caramel scent in the air, your fingers flex where they're tangled in Tae's PJs, needy. You curl up into her, all but bathing in the dewy smell of her skin, the conditioner on her hair, her rosy scent, oh so comforting. You’re used to falling asleep to the sound of the pack moving and talking all around you. You find comfort in the sound of their overlapping voices, going in and out of consciousness.

The next time you're lucid, Namjoon’s hand has crept a little higher on your leg, and Tae's warning growl lets you know there is at least some conflict going on. Her arm tightens around your waist. Her palm cupping the back of your head possessively. “Go get your own omega, this one’s mine.”

“You so sure about that?”

But whatever playful argument is going on, it’s none of your business if Tae and Namjoon feel the need to settle their hierarchy a little bit this morning. You doze, turning your face into Tae's skin and nosing against her navel.

You sleep, listening to the sound of them all. The sound of arms wrapped around bodies, the wet sound of smacking kisses, and the click of the range as Yoongi starts making breakfast. The quiet sound of the pack omega asking Namjoon to bring a heavy basket of laundry upstairs before Jungkook does. The pack alpha's happy little fluff of scent into the air as he does it. Always happy to do what Jinnie asks.

But the quiet can only last so long.

Jungkook and Hobi tear into the house, bare feet working against the floor as they try to overtake each other. They get caught in the doorway, both trying to pass through at the same time, getting tangled in the process. Jungkook wraps his arms around Hobi's waist, but the alpha, slighter but stronger, holds his ground. “Guys, you’re letting out all the cold air,” Jin reprimands, but it falls on deaf ears.

"It's here! It's here!" Tae jostles you. Knees jumping with her jerk of surprise.

Jungkook falls to the floor at the same moment that Hoseok valiantly grabs an envelope from his hands, giggling. And you-

You're still totally asleep on Tae's lap. Thoughts syrupy slow. Seokjin and Yoongi look up from the barely prepared breakfast. Incredulous until they see what Hoseok has valiantly held over his head. Yoongi makes an aborted noise, cutting the heat, although the butter sizzles on. Wiping his hands and coming over.

“Finally!” Tae chirps.

“Really?” Namjoon shouts from upstairs.

"Yes, Joonie, really!" Namjoon rushes down the stairs, almost tripping. Falling onto his ass with a loud thud thud thud. “Namjoon, slow down. You’re not coordinated enough for that,” Jin scolds, spatula held in threat.

“Guys don’t open it-”

“We’re not!’’

jungkook laughs, hops a few times and tries to bat at Hobi's head. “Wake her up-"

Tae's hand tightens around your back, curling over the nape of your neck protectively. “Don’t you dare-”

Namjoon rubs his ass, “baby girl, she’d want to be woken up for this-.”

Namjoon’s tone as pack alpha is not one that the others will obey today. Tae all but pouts at him. “Give her a few moments- she was up late last night.”

Yoongi snorts, “and whose fault is that?”

“Mine.” Namjoon says instantly.

Tae grits her perfect teeth, “no it was totally mine.”

Jin crosses his arms and waits until Namjoon is taking a sip of his coffee before he asks. “Are you both in rut or something?”

Jin thinks that there’s something satisfying in seeing the alpha snort coffee through his nose, to feel the jump of surprise down their bond. Even though Jin knows they’re not. Alphas just get like this sometimes. Especially heading into the wintertime.

You lift your head, a little grumpy at being woken so abruptly. One closed fist rubs at your eyes, cheeks faintly flushed, scent sweet and chirping. You peer up at them, surprised to find them looking down at you. Blinking at them slowly. Sniffling a little.

Everyone goes quiet all at once, then they break, "Oh my god, we're evil-" "The worst." Yoongi sets a hand on the top of your head, fingers carding through your hair softly. "Go back to sleep, little lovely."

Jungkook picks you up, a normal occurrence. You make an affronted noodle-like noise as he places you on your feet, swaying a little. holding you up partially.

“Kookie,” you whine.

“It’s here! It’s here!” Hoseok holds a little white envelope and shoves it under your nose. You’re suddenly wide awake, suddenly unable to concentrate on anything else, standing in the living room in your pj’s, Tae holds around your knees, still standing between her legs, everyone else between the ottoman and the couch crowding your space. “Go on pup.” "Please, the anticipation is killing us."

You sway.

“Open it open it open it!” Jungkook bounces on his heels, the baggy shirt he wears crinkling with an audible sound. Your hands are shaking so badly as you rip it open. Your gaze flickers up to Namjoon's, then Yoongi's. Leaving it folded. But there's a lot of paper, and maybe they just make their rejection letters really, really long.

“I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

“You’re not going to be sick,” Hoseok pecks the back of your neck, hand comfortably resting on your hip. Everyone has Their heads bend over the paper as you scan the document. You lift your eyes, and Yoongi is the first person you make eye contact with. He’s smiling ear to ear before you even tell them.

Your voice is small and quiet and more than a little scared, hands trembling.

“I got in.”

The cheers erupt immediately, and the small little voice in your head that wonders why you’re worth celebrating at all goes quiet as you watch them. Hoseok pumps his hand, Jungkook all but leaps into the air with a great big whoop.

Namjoon spins you, lifting you clear off your feet, spinning and spinning and spinning, tucking his face into your throat. You’re fully awake and giggling when he sets you down.

Yoongi dabs at his eyes, turning away for a second before he hugs you. Setting almost his whole weight across your shoulder. You feel his relieved breath against your front, and through your mating bond, he ducks in to press a quick kiss to your grinning mouth. It tastes like relief. Maybe he’d never told any of you how worried he was- not about you not getting in- but about what might have happened to your self-esteem if you hadn’t. But you know, you know how he must have worried, what he must have felt.

Yoongi cups his cheeks in both your hands, your flush goes unnoticed or unteased at. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

You're doing your best not to be someone your family has to worry over these days. It's hard. But you really are giving it your all. You nod at his words, unable to communicate to him what that means to you.

“Of course, she got in," Jin sounds almost offended at the very suggestion of Yoongi's disbelief. "As expected of my pup.”

But there’s still his hand on your chin, tilting your face up to his so that Jin can wipe at your tears, but just as quickly as you’re crying in happiness, your anxiety spikes. Holding the pieces of paper, not only your acceptance letter, but the heavy set of other instructions about tuition, uniform, and necessary first-semester materials.

“I’ve never been to college before and I'm so old, what if everyone is younger than me?” But the pack knit close around you. Nipping that in the bud before even a seed of doubt can begin to grow.

Jimin huffs, blinking from a small screen in Jungkook’s palm. A barely visible, very bright hotel room around him. His voice sounds grainy through the phone. “It will be alright. You’ve got us. You’ll have me as soon as I’m home.” 

“Hurry Minnie.” Hobi huffs, “yeah, Tae and Namjoon are worried about you.”   “I am not!” Namjoon cries.

Tae clicks her tongue. “Oh you so are-” he shoves her lightly. It’s more of a tickle.

“Hey! I am a lady!” Her indignation only gets her so far as Namjoon all but covers her body with his. you take the phone from here, and Jimin promises a celebration tonight. Probably drinking and food and maybe a very very nicely wrapped congratulation present that the pack have shoved into the back of the coat closet. something they put together for you just incase you.

Jin nods, making eye contact with you, hand coming up to cup your cheek and rub away your happy tears. “We can help with everything.”

Jimin chimes in, “Yeah, Joonie already said he’d help you study.”

But you just pout at that, “it’s not medical school.”

Is it that the pack alpha's shoulders are puffed up, or is it just your imagination? He leans away from Tae, taming her flyway, looking flustered. “Still. It’s your next chapter. You’re going to do well; I just know it.”

“Your faith in me is either misguided or foolish.”

“That’s a good line.” Tae says, and you turn to her, grinning.

Hobi sets his hands on your shoulders, turning you to look at him. “You’ve been spending too much time editing, and for the record, our faith in you is just the right amount.”

“Can you blame me? It’s like! Really hard to put down!” You’re scared, but bickering and bantering help. And you think you might be learning what the good kind of fear is and how to separate it from the bad kind. Even if both types of fear feel the same. They’re different. Aren’t they?

The pack has faith that you can do this, and you’ve never had a reason to doubt them before. “I can’t believe it- I can’t believe I’m actually going to go to school.” You look up at Hobi, like something just occurred to you, “Holy shit, what if I’m dumb?”

 “You are not dumb.”

Tae gives you a loving swat to your behind. “Hey! No negative self-talk!”

“I’m so scared, I’m not even excited- all I am is afraid.” Yoongi kisses you slowly and gently, taking his hand in yours. Jin and Namjoon are already looking over your book list and thinking about back-to-school shopping and getting you a pair of school-appropriate non-slip shoes. Jungkook and Taehyung are a mess on the couch. Jungkook continues whatever sort of push-and-shove game he started with Hoseok, but with Tae this time. Leaving you standing with just Yoongi and Hobi on either side of you.

Hoseok understands better than anyone the need to preempt enjoyment with disappointment as he teases you, "too bad, you're gonna get like- really good at chopping onions."

You pout up at him, "and baking cakes."

"You're already good at baking cakes."

“I know. I'm still scared.” Yoongi and Hoseok look at you, and you look back up at them. “That means I’m going to have to be brave, doesn’t it?”

Yoongi slides his hand from cupping your chin to your cheek, to your jaw, stroking over your mating mark once, twice, and then a third time.

“Yes. You’re going to have to be very, very brave.”

~-~

Tae sits in her library room, not looking at her computer but out the window to the hydrangea bush outside. The pink, blue, and lavender blooms are going crusty and bleached at the edges from the late summer sunlight, the last of them that Hobi has yet to snip away. Tae doesn't look at her computer, because she knows what she'll find.

In between waiting for you to hear back from culinary school, Tae has also been waiting for her own news. There is an email in her inbox, at the top of it, littered among a dozen other rejection letters, is a very, very different sort of email.

We’re very interested in ‘Girls and Other Dangerous Things,’ and we're very pleased to have found you and this project in its infancy. Our publishing company is willing to explore your options with you. We would love to meet at your earliest convenience to discuss a plan to take this from page to print.

You would think that Google would help her predicament, but a quick search of the company has yielded nothing but anxiety. New York Times bestseller lists from a decade ago and not much recent. Tae leans her elbows on her desk, the edge where you've worn away the wood slightly from leaning back against it. The mark of you slinging yourself across her lap to sit on her chair with her while she writes.

She hasn't told anyone yet; she got the email just this morning, but it's already 11am. She's sequestered herself here just because she knew the second she walked out into the kitchen that everyone, Jimin, Yoongi, you, Jin, would be able to tell that something was wrong.

Or that something’s gone very, very right for once. Tae's not sure which it is.

You have sort of a 6 sense when Tae's unhappy or scared or dysphoric at all and like normal you sort of just appear right in the nick of time, right before Tae risks being on the verge of a real panic attack. Rocking back and forth in her chair as she re-reads the email again and again and again.

You open the door to her library room without a second thought, although everyone else in the pack is firmly banned from interrupting Tae for all but the most necessary emergency (Jungkook feeling the lack of cuddles and wanting attention excluded from this list) you are not subjected to the same set of rules.

You let Noodle in too, tail raised high, cocking a hip against the doorway, clad in one of Yoongi's flannels and little else. Letting in the sound of the others' bickering and the smell of frying dough. Looking absurdly good in a way that makes Tae's pulse sort of hammer beneath her skin. She turns at the sound, jerky, chin resting on her hand, shoulders up to her ears.

“Hey,” you say in the doorway, smiling at her, your front covered in powdered sugar like snow. But ‘hey’ is never really just ‘hey’ when it comes to you.

"Hey," she says back, scent sour. She watches the moment that you scent it on the air, and a minute or two later, with the door closed and locked, you're slung across her lap in your same position as always. Listening to her rapid-fire words as she reads off the email, talks you through all the information about it. Her insecurities, everything she's worried about nothing kept from you. Eyes flicking from sentence to sentence.

“I know I shouldn’t get my hopes up, but they published that one series that I really liked just before I came out-”

"The one with the gay alpha hockey players?"

 "Yes, that one!" You wind your hands around Tae's back until your whole body is pressed against hers. You're a warm, comforting weight that makes Tae's whole body feel complete. Not a single ache or pain that she can pay attention to at all. Tae's heart gives a very painful but very lovely squeeze.

You pull back from her front, reaching up to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear, and Tae feels so in love with you in that moment that she can't bear it. “Well, if you're asking me, I think your hopes should be sky high.”

“It’s not that good.”

Your knees squeeze at her hips in reprimand. You pull back and peer up at her. Tae tries not to meet your eyes but fails miserably. It's hard to be upset with you occupying all of her attention, but somehow she manages. “Tae, I’ve read it, and it’s amazing. You know it’s mean if you argue with me. I can’t believe I’m gonna have to wait like- a whole year to read the second one.”

Her hands loop around your waist. And her nose bumps against yours. “So I’m a meanie huh?”

“The meanest, you won’t even like- let me read the epilogue.”

“Because the epilogue is sad. And for the record, I’m not going to make you wait a whole year, you know I’m just waiting until I know if I should pursue it to start on the second one…” Tae pauses and realizes her words. Realizing that she has just heard back. “I sent them stuff like 4 months ago- and I only sent them the first 10 chapters and-”

Kissing her is an efficient way of shutting up the part of her that is endlessly insecure. Tae's insecurities have never bothered you ever, but you're vibrating with excitement here. Tae knows just by looking at you that you're not going to be able to contain yourself in telling the rest of the pack.

You turn around in Tae's seat and reach for her laptop. "Pup- what are you doing? Pup- no-"

You type quickly, sending an eager email back quicker than she can think to grab your hands and truly stop you. The two of you wait with bated breath, but the admin or secretary- whoever is reaching out on behalf of a Mr. Bang gets back to Tae with lightning speed, offering 6 available times over the next week at their Boston office, with further concessions if none of them fit Tae's schedule.

“Do you want me to go with you to your meeting?”

Tae's head tips down; she’s worried about hurting your feelings. “Is it weird that I kind of wanna do it alone?”

You nuzzle into her hairline, and Tae's breath comes easier. “No. Not at all.”

~-~

"Are you sure?" Jungkook asks, hanging out the window of Jin's car to look at Tae standing on the street corner.

Jin’s driving, the hazards on his car flashing every other rapid heartbeat. Out front of the building to drop her off for the meeting of a lifetime. Jin and Jungkook took her because they were the least likely to set off her already fried senses (Having the alpha's around might make Tae feel too instinctual, and she already feels like a dog pressed into a corner) and they're less likely to feed off of her anxiety and make it their own (like you and Jiminie).

Someone behind them honks loudly, but Jin just adjusts the mirror and quietly commits their license plate to memory.

Some habits die hard.

“I could wait in the lobby.” Jungkook nibbles at his lower lip. Clearly worried. Tae shuffles in her heels on the sidewalk, pulse hammering as she looks up. She has clear instructions on how to access the 58th floor of this building and get to the publishing house. Jimin is pacing the floors back home. Tae knows this, and yet her soulmate had let her come on her own. Tae's almost proud as her hands tighten on the handle of her briefcase.

“No Koo, I’ll be alright.”

"Love you! You've got this!" Jin levels a look at Tae over his sunglasses, "kill 'em, sweetheart." The car pulls away, and Tae is left standing there alone.

Some first steps are all yours.

Well, mostly all hers. She has no idea that You're down the block with Jimin, Hobi, and Yoongi. Hiding out in a very, very fast and very, very expensive rental car with tinted windows and a sound system that could make Beethoven shudder.

You couldn't risk her recognizing your and Hobi's car, too red not to stick out. But you also couldn't let her do this completely alone- or at least an hour away from some possibly needed support.

You lean over the center console with binoculars, Yoongi in the driver's seat and Jimin in the passenger's side, swatting at your arm to see.

"Not a word of this to Tae," he'd made you promise. You'd mimed zipping up your mouth and thrown away the key, which Hobi had mocked, caught, and pretended to swallow. He's in the backseat with you, just along for the ride and the playlist that haunts you now. The base is thumping louder than usual because none of you are worried about blowing the speakers.

When you don't have the binoculars, you can hardly see Tae. Hardly more than a glimmer of pink on the sidewalk. Pink blazer, pink pants, pink shoes with red bottoms. Her brand new and very expensive Prada briefcase on one arm that you and Jimin might have splurged on for the occasion, hanging limply by her side.

You do love spoiling your girl.

You watch Tae through binoculars as she looks up at the big building, and then heads inside. "Hang on, I just want to make sure she's-" Jimin snatches the binoculars from you.

"She looks like she's going to throw up." He's already reaching for the door handle, but your mate has the good sense to hit the lock before he can get out. "Open the door, Yoongi,"

"Jimin, we agreed-" He tries to roll down the window, no doubt intending on climbing out of it, but finds his method of ingress also locked. Stalwart.

"Did you put the child lock on me?"

You snort, half-fighting with him to get the binoculars for a second. "You want a booster seat too?"

"Jimin, just think for a moment, if she sees you, she'll-" whatever Yoongi might have said gets interrupted by a sharp rap on your window. He rolls it down to reveal a very, very cross-looking Namjoon. A badge on his lapel that reads 'Dr.Kim' flashes in the midday sun. Arms folded, tapping his foot against the cobblestone. It’s so strange to see him in his doctor's coat and not his holey pajamas.

“Joonie!” Yoongi’s ear-to-ear grin does little to impress him.

The pack alpha’s glare does not decrease in intensity. Dragon eyes are narrowing at Jimin and Yoongi in the front seat. Hobi cowers, hiding behind the tinted window and patent leather of the driver's side. You too- shrink into the shadows, hoping to be undiscovered. “What are you doing here? I thought we talked about this.”

“Just hanging out." "I could ask you the same thing.”

“The hospital’s around the corner. I’m getting coffee.”

You reach around the console again. “Oh can you get me some? And a pastry!” Namjoon’s stare has your excitement dimming. Crouched behind Yoongi’s seat, Hobi stifles his laughter by biting on his knuckle. You shrink into the shadows in the backseat.

“Don’t think I don’t see you too pup.”

“Shit,” Hobi curses, leaning around the seat. “Sorry Joon.”

“We just had a discussion about boundaries guys.”

“I know but-”

A blue mini-coop pulls up beside you, and Jimin bypasses Namjoon and Yoongi’s stare down to peer at Jin in the front of his car. “How was she- did she seem nervous; did she have her phone on- did she-”

Jin's word cut off Jimin's anxiety at the root. “Everything went perfectly. Like I said it would.”

Jungkook gets out of the car, pecks a delirious-looking Namjoon on the cheek before sliding into the backseat with you and Hobi, “scoot over,”

“Why did nobody tell me you were doing a stakeout?”

“It’s not like we planned this,” Jin says. "we just all had the same idea."

Your car goes silent. And Namjoon leans against the window. “Okay well, I didn’t make the car reservation until Tae set the date.”

“Where did you even keep this thing?”

“At the flower shop.”

“Guys-”

Jin beeps his car, leveling Namjoon with a look over his sunglasses, cutting off the pack alpha’s reprimand. “Namjoon, just get in the god damn car before she spots us.”

By the time you look back at the front of the building, Tae has already disappeared inside.

Later at home, you unbutton her blazer for her, going button by button as you listen to her vent. You’re very convincing in your disguise, dressed in matching pj’s with Jimin. You'd mutually agreed not to tell her about your presence, even Namjoon.

It's just a white lie, and hardly the most damaging one you've ever agreed upon.

(The pack alpha sends you glares every few minutes when you meet his eyes, and you know everyone has a punishment in their future).

The pack is a flurry of movement around Tae, reclining on the couch. Jimin helps her take off her shoes, red bottoms glimmering as she talks. Squeezing her arches soothingly as her anxiety reaches a fever pitch.

Her diamond earrings are carefully unbuttoned by Yoongi. Makeup wipes are dished out by Jungkook, handed off to Jin who takes off her makeup gently, given the hour. Tae doesn't have to lift a finger while she gives her retelling of the day, the intimidating meeting with the kind head editor and lead acquisitions manager- whatever that is.

You don't have to lift a finger either, her own personal stress ball or weighted blanket. Too necessary to Tae's comfort, arms wrapped around her waist. Cheek squished against her pink shirt, linen and pretty. You'll have to remember to add it to the nest later.

“-And they want me to go through the whole thing in like a month, and I don’t know how that timeline makes sense.” Her lower lip wobbles, tears threatening at her lash line. “I could work for like 24 hours a day and still I wouldn’t be able to change everything they want me to change and that’s not even to mention the second half.”

"Did you ask for more time?"

She nods, "They wouldn't give it to me."

Jimin stands from her side. “Tell me their names.”

You tug at his sleeve, “Jiminie, save the murder for later.”

Yoongi’s shoulders fall, stressed, “Jesus Christ guys-”

You roll your eyes, “I said later, not never.”

"You signed the contract?" Jin asks, not distracted by you two, instead combing out the tangles in her curls delicately while guiding a glass of lemon water to her lips.

"No! Worse!" Tae bends to reach for her bag and upends the whole thing, hair wry out of her clips. An inch-thick packet of papers falls out along with a MAC lipstick, a YSL one, and a hairbrush. As well as two different wallets- Hers and Jimin’s. "They told me to sign it and hand it in with the final draft."

Her lower lip wobbles, and you've never smelled her scent more peppery (well, maybe the night she came out, but-). Tae sniffles. "I'm not sure it matters. They want so much from me and I know I can’t give them what they want." Tae hates this, to get here all this way and then fail at the final step.

Jin snatches it from the floor and steals the glasses off of Namjoon's head, scanning them quickly. The pack waits with bated breath, but Jin has hardly looked at it for more than a minute before he flips to the last page, scoffs, and promptly throws it into the nearby chair. Several pages Fling loose. "Tell them you won't sign it till the deadline."

"Jinnie-"

Jin folds his arms across his chest. "This isn't good enough. I can get you double."

“Jinnie-”

Jin leans forward to cup Tae's jaw in his hand, kissing her nose and then her mouth. “Don’t doubt me.”

Yoongi smiles. "You're learning a lot from this whole model thing."

Jimin flushes, starts to say something, but Jin just raises an eyebrow at him, "You should see the deal I got you for your next makeup campaign. My pups are worth a premium."

"Yeah, Minnie's expensive," Jungkook teases. 

Jin puts his hand on Tae's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I already professionally manage one of my pups, What’s one more?"

Tae looks like she's about to be sick. Realizing dreams goes a whole lot differently than you think it will. This feels dreadful. Tae wishes she'd never sent anyone anything. "Jinnie-"

You try instead. cupping her cheek and turning her face to look at you. Leaning your chin on her shoulder, peering up at her in a way you know is a little seductive and distracting. But given the circumstances, it can hardly hurt. "Tae, you're an amazing writer. You can do this; I know you can."

She shakes her head out of your hand. "No one can edit 300,000 words in a month, that’s like- almost physically impossible for one person."

Hoseok snorts, standing up from the couch. “Well, it’s a good thing you’ve got 7 people who love you and know you really fucking well then. Otherwise, you'd be shit out of luck.”

Tae blinks up at him, and Hobi pats your knee on the way past you, your eyelashes flutter, and you resettle your arms around Tae's waist. Threading your fingers through the buttons of her button-down to pet at her stomach.

Tae's tone is a little incredulous. “I can’t teach you how to edit, not like me. You don't know me this way.”

There's a moment of quiet where Hobi looks at her, and the pack take it in.

“Then let us. let us know you this way. You could try and we might not get it right at first. Think of it as a head start. Tae, you know what you like and what you want, just show us."

Tae thinks of that day so long ago, right after she came out. she remembers watching you and Hobi at the beach together. Getting funnel cake and calling Hobi out on his fondness for you that he didn't want to address. It feels good in a hurtful way, what he's saying isn't wrong. Tae just wasn't ready for it. Maybe like when Yoongi calls you out on your self-deprecation or when Jin scolds Namjoon for being too esoteric. Hobi stares, and Tae listens.

After a moment he continues. "What other time are you going to be able to show 7 different people and get their take on things while you can still change it?”

~-~

Love makes up for a whole lot. Skill and otherwise. Tae thinks as she watches the 7 of you dig into her story.

She's kept it closer to her chest than her fucking implants over the past year or so, and watching you all read it feels intimate in a way that's sort of awful, sort of amazing. Maybe being dissected would feel less vulnerable.

She should have started this sooner,. Should have let the pack read months ago. It’s a pretty intimate look at her soul, her wants and desires, her dreams. The way that she thinks and her own internal monologue and this one too closely intertwined to differentiate the two. The story is half a diary and half a promise. Somewhere between a testimonial and a daydream.

None of you are readers, but that doesn’t matter.

It starts a bit like this: food and drink piled on the kitchen table. Paper after paper and chapter after chapter. Tae's whole collection of glittery gel pens poured out onto the table. Blue for Namjoon, purple for Jungkook, pink for Jin, and so on. Panic and congratulations call for champagne. You and Yoongi share a singular glass. Pleasantly buzzed by the time you're even halfway through.

You each start with a chapter and work your way through it line by line. Making notes of what's not clear and what is. What works and what doesn’t. Halfway through, Jin complains that the main love interest is too much like Hoseok for him not to fall in love with him with every wry line. Tae admits, "Yeah I actually did use things Hobi has said for some of the dialogue. Jungkook too."

Surprisingly, the people who are the best at editing are Hobi and Yoongi. Namjoon makes it sound a little too clinical, and Jungkook's edits can border on nonsensical (Although occasionally he pulls a line out of his ass that even Tae's jealous of). Jimin and Jin are better at spotting typos than any of them. But with Hobi and Yoongi, Tae reads through their chapters and finds very little wrong with their additions and changes.

When Tae confesses this, Hobi just grins and kicks back in his chair and flicks the papers back and forth between his hands. "I’d tell you I told you so, but judging from how much you call Jack a pretentious prick in this- you already know. I’m totally going to make a playlist for this-”

Yoongi bumps shoulders with him, sitting next to each other in two chairs with you sprawled across both of their laps, a little drunk, a little ridiculous. “Gonna put mambo number 5 over the fight scenes, huh?”

“Or Naked in Manhattan." You giggle and sneak sips of his champagne (is it really sneaking if he hands you his glass after every sip?) "Fuck I totally want to put pink pony club on."

"Do it lady." Yoongi says.

Hobi leans back, looking a bit in love. You’re unaware of it. Kicking your feet, jerking when Yoongi tickles your ankle. "That’s like ugh- my favorite song of the day."

Jungkook snorts. "More like your favorite song of the month. You made me play it three times during kickboxing."

"Hey! Be nice- it reminds me of Tae." Tae flushes and promptly hides her face with a sheet of her book, littered with check marks from pink glittery gel pen edits. Namjoon reaches over and bops you with his pen.

"After! Play naked in Manhattan because that’s actually my favorite song." The pack gives you control of the playlist. Namjoon gets up obediently to refill everyone's glasses.

Hobi leans into your personal space, fingers itching up your ankle. Sneaking under the loose pants of your pajamas. Yoongi’s hands hover on your waist. Ticking from rib to rib to an imaginary beat. “Is that a promise or a threat?”

Yoongi all but growls into your ear, smile pressed to your cheek. “I love it when you guys flirt using music it’s like- totally fucking hot.”

“Guys!” The three of you look up. The whole pack is watching the three of you, but you make no move to untangle yourself. And when you lean back, you can feel the warmth of Yoongi’s chest and it jiggle as he laughs against your spine.

Everything here feels so nice, taking away Tae's stress, the sight of Jungkook half-falling asleep at the table. Jimin scans the chapters and reaches the end too quickly, Namjoon with his hair all messy and pushed up, talking animatedly about the actual proposed biology of the fantastical creatures that Tae writes about. Everything feels so good living here. Loving here. Being here for her.

“We’re serious! It’s like totally cinematic!”

~-~

Whatever it was, whatever change the mating has had on Jin and Namjoon, the bulk result is that they’ve both gotten more protective and even more possessive. They’re calmer about it- sure. But with each other to feed off, you hardly have any room for argument. All they have to do is look at each other to be on the same page now. The pups try to band together sometimes, but Jin and Namjoon are good pack omega and alpha.

They rarely let anything slip through the cracks.

So when you’d initially floated the idea of getting yourself a car to make the almost 40-minute drive to and from school every day, it had been all but immediately caboshed. Namjoon was the first to voice his misgivings. Looking nervously between Jin and Yoongi as you outlined what you'd need over breakfast. “It's all the way into the city, it's like even farther than the hospital.”

"I can do it! And if I can't, there's always the train.”

“That’s romantic.” Tae had swooned, Jin had scoffed. “What it is is dangerous. Especially after lab.”

"When does that end again?" Namjoon asks.

"Not until 8," Yoongi recites from memory. "On the train, you probably won't be home until ten."  

“But that way I can study!" You’re a bit in love with the train. Yoongi had taken you on a date not too long ago, into the city to a little food tour from bakery to bakery. You'd taken the train then and met up with Namjoon near the hospital and gone home together the quick way by car. But you'd had your face pressed to the window the whole time, pointing out the street art and the little glimpses between the windows. You'd fallen asleep on his shoulder on the way home.

But now, Yoongi is panicking a little. Thinking of if that happened when you were alone. All it would take is a missed stop, a low phone battery, and one bad person with an agenda. Sure nothing might happen- but is it really worth the risk?

Even Jimin raises his eyebrows, “The train is dangerous at night, and have you ever driven into the city on your own before?”

“No, but I can work up to it!” Even Jungkook had tilted his head to the side, unsure. Exchanging glances with the whole pack while you'd prattled on to Tae, whose smile was just about ready to slip off her face as you talk about a car. Something safe, something small. And wouldn't getting matching cars with Seokjinie be so cute?

Unsurprisingly, it had been Hobi who had first volunteered. “You already have a car, our car. I can drive you every morning. What time would we have to leave by? 7:30? That way I can be back for my shift by 9.”

“It would be a lot of miles to put on the car, and a lot of time for you.”

Hobi had just looked at you over a bite of breakfast. Eyebrows raised, headphones already looped around his neck. His look was impassive and sharp, and left no room up for debate. “Then put them on the car, I don’t mind.” (He got a pat on the knee for that one from Namjoon.)

As much as the pack hates to admit it, the idea of you not being here in the house at all hours of the day…It feels off. Feels new in a bad way.

They know it's what you want and a good, necessary change for you, but they’ve never known life at the house without you and Yoongi puttering about at all hours of the day. Without having someone to come home to. The constant soothing presence of an omega in the nest is something they’re reluctant to let go of…but maybe now that Jin is also home always and Tae is too- things will be easier.

Yoongi won’t have you as his little shadow anymore. He won’t have you hovering by his elbow at 11 for lunch or 3 for a snack. There will be no one waiting in the window seat when they come home, or the smell of baking things when Jimin returns from his schedule.

But baking is your passion. This has slowly gone from a dream you’re very scared to think of, to something you want desperately. The pack will help you achieve this goal, with the caveat that they keep you very carefully safe, mentally and physically, within the confines of what they deem appropriate.

This is a real future for you; you deserve more than just life as a nestmate. You want this future for yourself, too. The pack will do anything to give it to you. Anything.

Except letting you drive on your own.

This just means that you get to spend more time together with Hobi. Fiddling with Hobi's stereo and enjoying your morning coffee (and maybe studying in the front seat) and just being quiet together, commuting. Getting breakfast sandwiches when you have time and nodding off against the window when you stay up too late the night before, with Jungkook watching videos, or fucking and studying. Sometimes, at the same time, if Namjoon is feeling particularly motivated.

Or eating too many of the treats and sweets that you make in class and bring home for taste tests, leaving the floor of Hobi's car covered with crumbs from croissants, certainly spoiling your dinner. Exposing yourself to a gentle punishment and Namjoon and Jin's firm hands. Even Jungkook's one time when you ate all of something that he was looking forward to trying, when you do your unit on dietary restrictions.

You can imagine all of it already. So after a bit of fussing, you agree. It's scary, but somehow you can’t wait.  

~-~

Everything is sort of a blur after that. Fall starts, and you only have a few short weeks until your program begins. The pack drags you out for back-to-school shopping. textbooks and chefs knives. You pick up a coat and a chef's hat. And Jin demands that they get it embroidered with your initials just cuz.

It’s just culinary school. It’s not anything too difficult- but you’d looked over classes, attended a virtual meeting with your counselor from the kitchen table to pick and choose. Namjoon and Jin grip your hands under the table. Yoongi lingered close by even though Jin dominated the conversation. You tolerated it very, very well as they handle most of it for you. Getting just a little bit anxious by the end of it. And after, Tae pinched your cheeks and called you brave.

You've been hearing that word a lot recently. Brave brave brave. Being brave doesn't mean not being scared, doesn't mean not being anxious. It's what you do with your fear that counts.

(When she thinks about how far you've come, how much you've blossomed over the past few months, she gets a little misty-eyed. Sometimes she and Yoongi share looks over your head, or Tae sees him turning away, blinking rapidly, and taking a deep breath. The pack has been awfully careful with him these last few weeks. But Tae knows Yoongi can't help it. For all his stoicism, he really is so soft for you it hurts. Maybe it would be easier if the rest of them weren't equally as proud and overemotional over this whole thing.)

Your counselor had only been a little bit chagrined by the fact that Jin and Namjoon had done most of the talking during your meetings. “We get a lot of pack applicants.” She’d said after requesting a verbal 'yes' from you and not your pack omega.

But still, she'd been remarkably tolerant of Jin's many, many questions about the student body, tutoring centers, and other resources you’d have access to should you need them. His mating mark is plain and pink and new against his throat.

After that, your tuition is paid, and all too soon you count down to your first day. The pack takes you to tour the campus so that you’ll know how to get to all your classes before your first day. It’s about 10 minutes farther than Namjoon’s hospital, but he still says that he could drive you in once or twice a week, especially in your early days.

On your first day, Yoongi and Hoseok drive you. Yoongi is still in his pj’s in the back seat, letting you take the front. Your new school bag is packed with lunch, pretty Moleskine notebooks, and gel pens. All from Tae, who also did your hair and makeup today. Bound behind your head in two crisscrossing, pretty-looking Dutch braids to keep it out of your face.

Hoseok puts the car in park. And it’s almost audible the way that you hold your breath and try not to flinch at the sound. “We’ll pick you up at three. After your chopping class.”

“Knife skills. An hour and a half.” Yoongi recites from the back seat. You don’t know that the whole pack has memorized your schedule. Mondays and Wednesdays are your long days, Friday are your easy ones. Basics of French sauces and Cooking chemistry on Thursday and Tuesday.

Hoseok’s car is already getting more than a few backward glances from other students. Parked out front in a 15-minute parking zone meant only for drop off. The other students of the culinary school are dressed identically to you in double-breasted black button-down chef's coats. Buttoned to the collar. A glittery necklace from Jimin around your neck.

You’re going to stand out- Hoseok knows this because you could never be ordinary. He sort of hopes that your classmates will treat you well. That you'll make friends and find a place and a reason of your own here.

Hoseok looks at you over the rim of his sunglasses. Heart giving a lonely, grateful pang. “Don’t stab anyone, that’s more of a second week thing.”

It has the desired effect, you snort. “And so last year.” Your scent eases away from being quite so wet with anxiety, and Hoseok feels himself smile despite the tense atmosphere of the car.  

Yoongi looks at you in the mirror. “Do you want me to walk you to your first class?”

“If we both walk her the car will definitely get towed.”

“That’s why I said I’ll walk her. You can stay with your boring flashy car.”

“Oh, absolutely not- you’ll have to rock paper scissors me for that.”

You swallow, and both Hoseok and Yoongi stop their bickering to pay attention to you. “It’s alright, I know where it is.”

You don’t open the car door yet, nervous, knees jumping up and down, hand hovering on the door handle. Yoongi pulls himself around the front seat. Hoseok squeezes your knees and says, "Alright. You have 5 minutes to vent."

The words burst from you without your say so, the same anxiety jackrabbiting its way outside of your heart and head, bouncing around with nowhere to go. “What if I hate it? what if I don’t like it?- what if I paid all this tuition and made all this fuss and it’s for nothing? What if-” you continue, and Hoseok and Yoongi let you vent until it's clear you're done.

Tears are beading in your eyes, you turn and look towards the window to hide them, you don’t want to cry, because Tae did your makeup this morning, and you don’t want to mess it up.

Your makeup is something she doesn’t always have time to do anymore, between meetings with her editor and revisions of this and that chapter. Her negotiations with Jin and the publishing company are sort of ongoing, and there's already talk about Hoseok cutting back his hours at the flower shop just to help Jin with all the new paperwork. They split their time evenly between Jimin and Tae.

“Hey.” Hobi's voice is soft, “look at me.”

You do, and he’s smiling that same gentle smile as always as he cups your cheek rubs your tears away with a thumb. You sniffle. From the back seat Yoongi says, “You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

Hobi looks over at you, voice very serious. “If you hate it, you can call us and we’ll pick you up. No questions asked. We won't say anything and we don't have to talk about it at all." No one, not even Jin and Namjoon. I'll protect you. Hoseok promises to himself. "If you decide this isn’t a path you want to go on, you can stop at any time. This week or next week or six semesters from now.”

You go quiet for a second and then correct him. “It’s only a four-semester program.”

Yoongi nods, and Hoseok throws his hands up, “Well then, whatever! what I’m saying is you can do what you want and we’ll support you.”

You have 5 more minutes to make the two-minute walk before you’ll be late. You look to Hobi. Teeth worrying away at your lower lip. Yoongi chimes in. “It’s easier to get off a train after one missed stop than five. If you hate it, then fuck it. We’ve got you.”

“Promise? You’re not gonna be mad if I back out?”

“No. Not at all.” Yoongi means it, but doesn’t elaborate.

Hoseok holds out his pinky finger, the red tattoo around it just a little more faded than when you'd gotten it together. You loop it with yours, and for a moment, it looks like it's wrapped around both your fingers. "Promise." 

“Okay.” “Okay.” Your hand is on the door.

“I’m going to get out of the car now.”

“Okay,” “good luck,” “we love you.” “Text us if you get even a little bit anxious.”

You shut the door and wave to them as you start to walk away. Yoongi rolls down the window. "Wait! First day of school photo!" You turn around and flash a peace sign as Yoongi leans half out the window and takes a picture. Another one for his wall of photos. You're laughing as you turn and walk away. Shoes squeaking on the smooth concrete. Red Prada backpack that Jimin and Tae got you as a first day of school present, thwacking stiff against your spine as you hurry. Hobi laughs. He’ll tease you about that tomorrow.

Yoongi watches you go, braids swinging behind your head. They watch you glance up anxiously at a pair of second semester students (distinguished by their chefs coats, maroon instead of black) You let them go in front of you on the sidewalk, turning back to them and waving. Hoseok lifts his hand, although he’s sure you can’t really see it through the window tint, at least you can see Yoongi giving you a double thumbs up in the back.

The interior of the car is silent until Yoongi and Hoseok watch you go inside the building. Hoseok doesn't put the car in drive. Hands folded over the steering wheel, feeling something in his chest tighten as he watches you walk away. You glance back just once before you go inside. Like you're making sure they're still there.

“We’re gonna wait here until she gets out of class? Right?”

Yoongi scoffs, stretching his arms out behind his head, but Hoseok can tell he’s anxious as a live wire. After a second thought he climbs over the center console into the front seat.

“Of course we fucking are.”

They’ve got nowhere better to be. Hobi and Yoongi stay parked right there in the loop for as long as they can, checking their phones every few minutes just in case. Until security comes over and hassles them.

Yoongi speaks to them through the window, and the security guard tells him that they can park in the administrative lot and no one will bother them there (beta privileges).

They wait until you’re in your second class of three, bouncing from playlist to cat video to text message (Yoongi has more than a dozen from your packmates, and he has no doubt that your phone is littered with the same kind of encouragement but not the overwhelming concern for your wellbeing that they're expressing here. Everything is fine. Everything is great).

For the day before they leave for lunch, greasy and cheesy. Their Head bopping at the music and French fries spilling at bad dance moves, which turns into giggling, which turns into making out and napping. (Well, really, they go a little farther than kissing, but I don't need to bore you with the raunchy details and a slightly shameful visit to a coffee shop restroom)

It’s really not all that long to wait. Not for you. When you text them a thumbs-up emoji when they check in halfway through your day, Yoongi sags against the seat. Grinning.

They’re napping when you bound over to the car, whipping open the door and startling both of them bad enough that Yoongi hits his knee against the plastic of the front seat.

Yoongi almost jumps out of his skin, “Fuck!”

“How was it!” Hoseok wipes the crusties from his eye, turning to look at you, and he can tell from your scent already that oh- this is-

"Amazing!" you throw your bag down with a thud, and there go your shoes next, kneeling on the backseat while you unbutton your coat. You undo your braid while you talk, excitement making your voice fast and jumpy.

“They taught us how to make pastry cream! And we got to start our unit on seasoning pans, and they did this demo with vegetable shortening and butter and margarine, and I totally understand why cocoa like- doesn’t emulsify easily now.  And during chemistry, they explained elements and it was so confusing cuz I haven’t been in a science class in like 10 years, but I wanna ask Namjoon about it."

You babble excitedly, and Yoongi and Hoseok share a special secret glance as you continue to prattle on, throwing your shoes off and producing a pair of slippers seemingly out of nowhere.

"There’s this other omega in the class who’s my age, and she’s got really nice hair, and we were talking and she actually goes to Jk-ies gym too! And I think we’re gonna sit together at lunch tomorrow, and then after chemistry in food safety, we talked about meat and Jin is totally gonna give us food poisoning one of these days cuz you know he’s not careful about cutting boards and-”

~-~

Late at night, you curl up under Namjoon’s arm. Reading through your textbook while he reads his medical drama novel (A guilty pleasure). You told the whole pack everything over dinner, and might have requested a settling that Jin was only too happy to give very publicly over the arm of the sofa. Leaving you loose-limbed and now a little spacy, pressed close against Namjoon for comfort and aftercare and warmth.

He doesn't push, at least not much. It's only then, under the privacy of night, that he gets the chance to truly ask you without all the others there. “Did you like it?”

He’d heard all about it at the dinner table with the others, but Namjoon wants to know for sure about the risk of you backing out. Not that you couldn't. But knowing early that you're having misgivings about school will make any fallout easier for the pack alpha to mediate.

At dinner, the rest of the pack had you too excited to guess at your emotional state. There was a shaggy homemade cake, with 'Happy First Day' written on top in off center pink frosting- made by Tae and Jinnie. Complete with crumbs in the icing and maraschino cherries on top. A cute surprise (that had needed a fair amount of whipped cream, not to taste so dry).

Everyone had let you talk it out as long as you needed to. There had been a fair amount of teasing over your new friend, but everyone had been chubby-cheeked with their smiles and happy.

“I did.” You peck under his jaw. Namjoon hums and lets you nuzzle. Tries not to let the way you trail your nose up and down his mating mark affect him and fails dramatically.

"Pup. You have a lot of pages to read."

"I know, I'm reading." You take an open-mouthed breath of his scent, lips brushing his mating mark. Namjoon's scent hasn't settled yet, but like this- you can nearly smell Seokjin on him. That hint of milk, the coffee in his scent mellowed out slightly. A suggestion of something thick and sweet and tantalizing.

Namjoon cups the back of your head and forcefully moves it to face the book. "You know to read you have to actually look at your text book" You giggle and squirm. His hand settles on the small of your back, urging you closer to him. After a moment, you settle yourself against his pectoral. Flipping the page like you didn't just unhinge his whole emotional state.

Namjoon just sighs out a heavy breath and goes back to his book.

“It was good, I think I’m excited for tomorrow.” You say the second part quieter, not looking at him pointedly, like you’re not sure. Namjoon taps your textbook with two of his fingers. He smells like aftershave and coffee with cream, like home and alpha. His big hand tightens it's hold on you.

“Are you gonna be a good student?”

“I’m not sure yet.” You look down at your book, a soft smile on your face. “But I think I’m going to try.”

Joonie hums in approval, and when you finish your chapter, Namjoon kisses your temple, And shuts off the reading light.

~-~

Notes:

The thing about this chapter is that the reason why I didn’t want to work on it is that I’ve been applying to school again as someone whose almost 30 and I’m so fucking anxious about it. All my applications are done but I don’t find out until may/April if I got into either of the schools I applied too.

this is another chapter where i hate the beginning but i like the ending.

(tw: talks of aging and death) i've only talked about this a little and this is very angsty and involves the pack's death. but by the time all the others have died into the pack's 80's, hoseok, the m/c, and tae all do move to one of those cottages on the cliffs and give the house to one of their kids. the m/c and hobi go out on little walks every day until one morning hobi goes on his own and never comes back. The m/c and tae are the last two left and die on the same day and their pups have half the m/c's ashes interred with the rest of the pack and the other half sprinkled in the ocean to be with hobi forever. i think of the m/c and tae talking on the day hobi doesn't come back and them both being very used to their pack dying at this point and the m/c being like "i always knew i'd wake up one day and he wouldn't be there, but i really wish that day was tomorrow,"

The conversation with Jin and the conversation with Yoongi where both sections to this that sort of came about because I’m editing the beginning of prey animals still you know? like especially the part where jin is telling her he's sorry for shoving her is a direct result of me writing that, if you haven't read prey animals yet you really should!

i think when yoongi's talking to her on the stairs, what he's addressing is the danger of assuming you know best for someone you love, and his own admission that maybe he hadn't been able to properly help the m/c at the beginning of the series.

i don't want to talk much more about the m/c's anorexia in this story, and it's not because i think she never relapses, but there are some things that need to be wrapped up you know? i think you can feel that at the end of yoongi's part and i hope it doesn't make anyone too sad. i know there are a few people (me included) that don't want to let go of bily.

*m/c watching tae eat* i'm gonna nut

but lowkey i wish i had watermellon so bad after writing this like why is it winter :( i just want itttttt

i fell like jimin's dialouge doesn't quite fit all the way, but one of the things i do want to emphasize is that jimin does like this job better than his last alot and it does make him happy. like he's very clearly having happy sensory time with tae right there after being overwhelmed by a very good morning. idk, if you're autistic you'll get it. good things make you overwhelmed sometimes too.

i'm actually really proud of the m/c because you know, she did start out this story wanting to die and now she has this kind of vibrancy and tinacity for life. for dreaming. she's grown up so much *sniffle sniffle*

i think it matters alot that hobi is the one she told about her idea for the bakery first, like thats so soulmate of them you know?

i needed to make sure that heated rivalry exists in the bily universe. it just needs to exist here.

I think in the bily pack like- namjoon and the m/c's relationship is built on mutual respect, hoseok and the m/c's relationship is based on mutual understanding, and her and Yoongi's relationship is based on mutually assured destruction.

"sung — please, i really, really have to —"

"alright." he leans in closer, his lips brushing yours, "i didn't keep you in here to make you cum on my fingers anyway."

he eases them out of you and you sigh in relief, but he doesn't step back. he kicks your towels into a corner — long forgotten on the floor, still wet from your earlier shower — and grabs your hips. he turns you and bends you over the sink in one fluid motion. your cheek meets the cold surface and you gasp when his hand fists into your hair, keeping you still, exactly where he wants you.

"jisung, wait — i have to pee," you finally manage to blurt out. it's embarrassing how your pitch rises on the word, and you feel your face grow hot.

he laughs. "that's not my problem."

"no, i'm serious."

"so am i," he says, lining up the head of his cock with your entrance. "you know what you have to say if you really want me to stop. but you don't want that, do you?"

you whimper. not at his words, but because he's pushing inside in one long, swift stroke that leaves no room for you to breathe.

"fuck," he groans against your shoulder, "still so tight. it's like this pussy never learns how to take me properly."

your hands are gripping the sink, scrambling for purchase while your body struggles between pleasure and the unbearable pressure. everything inside you is too full, too stretched, too much.

"jisung, i can't hold it, i'm gonna…"

he tightens his grip and tugs your head back, desperate to hear every plea.

"good."

then he starts moving with slow, deep strokes. the kind that push you right to the edge, aimed straight at that spot that has you clench around him.

"you feel that? how full you are? how bad you need to let go?"

you whimper again, mumbling i can'ts between the jostle of your body against the basin.

"you can." his hand slides down your stomach, pressing low. "and you're gonna make a mess either way, so why don't you stop fighting it? c'mon baby. just piss on it."

your whole body feels taut, stretched too thin and begging for release. still you're holding back; it's impossible to give in. too filthy. you've never thought about it before — the possibility of it, the instinctual need to just let go — but with every stroke of jisung's cock the pressure builds. it pushes you dangerously close towards the edge, a dull pain throbbing in your core and radiating outwards until all you feel is tension.

he must feel how close you are, the fluttering of your walls around him and the firm swell of your tummy underneath his fingertips.

"baby," he kisses your nape, "just let go. let go for me."

he pulls out almost all the way, then drives his hips forward — so deep you can't do anything but listen to him. everything inside you tightens and unravels at once, your body crying out in release.

it takes a second before you feel it. the warmth of it, the wetness, the rumble of jisung's groans against your back when the mess hits his thighs.

"fuck," he babbles, "fuck, baby, you're soaking me — oh my god —"

you've never felt this kind of pleasure before. this kind of relief. it keeps pulsing in sharp bursts every time he thrusts into you. you feel it run down your legs and onto the floor. it's humiliating; the sound of jisung's thighs hitting the back of yours so slick and wet it makes your sore cunt ache for more.

jisung grabs your hips to hold you in place, locks his eyes on the mess in front of him. "holy fuck," he moans, awestruck, "you're still going — baby, shit, that's so hot —"

he's losing himself in it, voice breaking off into a string of stuttering moans as he buries himself deeper. hot, messy ropes of cum paint your pussy and he collapses against your back.

for a moment your whole world shrinks to nothing but the sound of your heavy breaths synchronizing as the pleasure slowly fades.

"….holy shit," jisung sighs again.

"holy shit."

he lifts his head, peppering a trail of kisses down your spine. "next time," he whispers into your skin, "you're doing that on my tongue."

(Jimin, right fucking now)

Instincts have rules. Everyone in polite society accepts this.

No showing teeth, it’s not polite. No coming into another alpha’s den when it’s rut season, even if you like the way an omega smells- don’t sniff the air or at least- don’t make it obvious. Avoid touching the wrists because omega’s and alpha’s alike tend to be sensitive there. Don’t scent an omega that isn’t yours, but an omega that is yours? Well…

It is a simple rule; Alpha’s are possessive of omega’s and will seek to covet them no matter the cost or circumstances. It doesn’t matter if an omega is yours or not, a compatible omega will ignite an alpha’s instincts.

Jimin can count the number of omega’s his instincts have liked on one hand, both of them are currently waiting at home. Jimin can count the number of women he’s even found tolerable on one hand too.

Jimin’s hands tingle, not unpleasantly, when he looks at you.

Jimin has always felt his instincts a little bit more keenly than the other alpha’s in the pack. Jimin’s wolf does not fit inside his body right, is always threatening to tear through skin and make it’s propensity for violence known. If anyone could still shift into a wolf (there have been no documented cases of shifting in the last hundred years) then Jimin would be capable of it.

It doesn’t take much; the threat of unfamiliar too human textures like the buzzing of overhead lights, people looking at Tae or Jin too long. Some asshole commenting on Jungkook’s tattoo’s or daring to say anything even slightly weird to Hobi or Tae about their fashion sense. Scratchy wool sweaters, and all but the roughest cotton sheets. Not warm rough, but cool rough.

Actually, Jimin tends to get a little feral if anyone dares to look at Tae too long, now that he thinks about it. Jimin is used to feeling his alpha angry, used to rage and the gritted teeth of a growl. But Jimin hardly ever feels his alpha want.

Jimin’s instincts feel like vertigo, like the ground is suddenly out from under his feet and the cognizant part of him goes hurtling. Luckily in this case it’s both instinct and reality. Jimin barely manages to school his face into a blank slate after he plummets through the floor. The world falls out from underneath his feet, its axis tilting. Jimin looks up at you. Silent.

A second passes before Yoongi helps him up and out of the Jimin sized gap in the floor. That time that Jimin spends trying not to say something dumb, trying to sort through his instincts to say or so something to diffuse this ticking time bomb. Anything. Luckily Jimin hadn’t fallen far just the 8 or so inches until he hit the subfloor. His leather boot has several long scuffs along the side and a big splinter embedded in the leather and Yoongi apologizes profusely for it. His hand remains on Jimin’s upper arm lingering long after it should, and it makes Jimin’s skin sting dully.

“It’s okay- I get it, your house is shitty and old.” Jimin snaps, putting his hurt into the words.

It lands too far off. Yoongi huffs equally delighted as he is miffed. Like he’s so endeared that Jimin is in this room, so pleased with it, that he can’t help but smile. So happy to breathe this same dusty air with him that the dig doesn’t even burn.

But Jimin is not the one on the edge of his fingertips when the beta steps back.

Jimin tries desperately not to stare. You hide your mouth with your hand, maybe hiding a smile or a giggle. It’s hard to see almost all of you under the thick layer of the light blue blanket. Wrapped tightly around your body like a fluffy cocoon. It guards your body from him like a shroud. Jimin watches your hand hold it tighter, like you’re worried someone might take it away.

Jimin is keenly aware of Yoongi’s presence. Watching Jimin as he watches you. All variety of the words ‘fuck’ and ‘shit’ run through his head as your scent hits him like a fucking battering ram. Jimin tries to keep his expression neutral and unaffected, disinterested, but fails by a longshot. Jimin is generally good during a crisis, but this is God damn apocalyptic. 

The first thing Jimin notices about you beyond your eyes is that you smell like Yoongi.

You’re an omega, that much is painfully clear. That Jimin’s body knows the second he first lays his eyes on you. You smell like chocolate, like Yoongi. It’s like you’d been freshly scented this morning. Evidence of him dripping off of you even under the blanket. It’s a contradiction; it doesn’t make sense to Jimin, human man or the alpha- the beast curling up inside. Un- satisfied. Un-satiated.

Here is someone who has become inexplicably close with one of the most important people in Jimin’s life- close enough to wear their scent- and yet is still a stranger. Those things are contradictions. Yoongi shouldn’t be scenting anyone that Jimin doesn’t know. Only packmates scent each other, it’s not something you’d do for just a friend and you’re dripping with him.  

You blink up at him, slowly, a little bit like a cat would. But also like you’re measuring him and trying to figure out if he’s a threat or not.

The silence stretches long, long enough that discomfort starts to flicker in Jimin’s chest. Jimin’s not sure if he’s the one being rude or if you are. You don’t make the effort to introduce yourself, you don’t speak at all. Jimin’s used to the one being off putting. A bit too silent. A bit too still. Tae has to tap him on the side often to remind him not to stare or look people in the eyes too long.

Rarely is he the one left on edge by an encounter, intimidated.

You’re the first one to break your stare down when you take one small step closer to Yoongi. Who has watched the whole interaction go down with little more than an expression of vague surprise. He pulls you in easily. His hands a protective cage around your shoulders. They soothe you the second they touch. The action written and memorized. Jimin wonders if Yoongi even realizes he’s doing it. You’re shorter than Yoongi and come up to barely his shoulder. You turn into his chest, all but hiding there. Sending a tentative glance in Jimin’s direction.

Yoongi pulls the blanket down. The short pieces of hair at the top of your head stick up, the same way Jungkook’s does when he’s gotten particularly nesty. Ruffled and cute.

Jimin fucking hates it.

Your cheek squishes against Yoongi’s chest as you look up at Jimin, pressing close to him like you need his skin against yours and can’t live without it. Jimin would sneer at it if he didn’t understand that need, didn’t do the same to Tae. A minute bit of tension in Yoongi releases. 

Yoongi’s wide hands slip under the blanket to settle on your waist, sending your scent Fluffy bread freshly baked or cake- fluffing out into open air. You smell like fucking birthday cake hints of chocolate and mindless almost-burnt sweetness.

You make a small startled noise, looking at his shoe, the little splinters sticking into the side of it, Jimin feels hot all of a sudden. Cheeks itchy. Maybe he’s running a fever? That has to be it.

“It’s okay, they didn’t go too far in." 

Stupid instincts.

Stupid fucking instincts, something in Jimin’s chest is all tight looking at you; craning his neck, trying to find something you should be afraid of so he can bully it away. Searching the closet and the room for monsters. But it’s just the three of you here.

Jimin leans down, yanking the splinter out of the side of his shoe, tilting it so that you can see it when it’s clean. “See? Not so bad.”

Not so bad.

Jimin’s instincts war with his knee jerk reaction to you and Yoongi pets over your head apparently used to it and unbothered by your unmoving mouth. Jimin feels sort of like he’s saying hello with his hands instead of with words. The slight scent mark makes you relax a little. In reply- You drag your face just a little bit barely brushing Yoongi’s shoulder with your chin. It happens so quickly that if Jimin wasn’t looking directly at you, he would have missed it.

It’s typical as scent marks go, omega’s have small scent glands under the hollow of their chins and at several other points along their bodies. At their wrists and in the hollow of their hips, between stomach and apex.

If alpha’s covet omega’s, then omega’s covet safety. They mark the safety that belongs to them with their scent. They find it in many things, cozy tight wrapping jackets, in packmates close and tactile. The most common behavior is nesting- gathering scents of people they deem apart of their pack and putting them in one place, usually a bed although that’s not all there is. Concentrating soft things and nice smelling things biologically contributes to an omega’s sense of safety.

Omega’s are generally less strong than alpha’s- weaker. A scent mark is a very visceral reminder fuck with this one, and something you don’t want to threaten will come for you. (Jimin doesn’t actually believe that omega’s really are weaker most of the time- seeing as Jungkook can beat him in a wrestling match 9 days out of 10). But he’s reminded of it- and that it seems awfully true when he looks at you. You cling to the blanket that smells like Yoongi, keeping it close like a bit of fabric could keep you whole when confronted with an outside threat.

Jimin is that outside threat. Jimin is something nasty, just like you are to him.

Yoongi makes a face that you can’t see. His dark eyes caution and beg Jimin not to say anything too harsh. When Yoongi moves you look up at him, a jerk goes through your body, it’s almost a flinch. Yoongi doesn’t say anything about it.

He brushes your bangs away from your face and Yoongi’s sleeve falls down. There something red wound around his wrist, a fabric dark red and blue in places. Silky and Frayed, it’s gone as quick as Jimin spots it. Gone as quickly as it flashed. “Do you wanna go outside and sit in the sun for a bit? I’ll get us some lemonade and we can sit out on the porch together and talk with Jiminie yeah? Are you feeling up to it?”

If Yoongi’s not freaking out about Jimin’s presence in the house, then you won’t. You might even find yourself a little bit curious about this stranger. Brain muddled, instincts loud and thoughts quiet. You are not as startled by Jimin as you were initially. Apparently soothed and trusting in Yoongi’s judgement enough to not hide yourself away. This time you don’t run.

Jimin looks about as typical as alpha’s go. Short. A little stocky. You’d know Jimin’s eyes anywhere. At least he smells nice, kind of vanilla- but deeper, sweeter almost and with a hint of cinnamon too.  Most alphas don’t smell so sweet, that’s typically an omega thing.

If you are going to die, it might as well be from someone who smells like that. You might not even mind.

After a moment where you look like you’re weighing your options you tip your chin down. Jimin wouldn’t call it a nod because you don’t really move that much at all, but it must be some sort of ascent because the happy little cocoon of you and that blanket moves. The edge drags on the dusty floor as you pad gently to the kitchen. Your socked feet slapping happily against the floor.

Without your scent all around him, Jimin can shake off the daze of a sweet-smelling omega and he can finally think clearly. His alpha is a tangible thing under his skin, a distracting tug. Teeth hungry, nosing at the air searching for more of that scent. It’s a good scent. Not all omega’s smell so good. There are few things that draw an alpha in more than an omega that smells nice.

Now that he can breathe deep, he realizes your cake is a bit richer, more like chocolate cake. It’s so similar to Yoongi’s scent that Jimin has to ask himself What the actual fuck is going on.

He looks at Yoongi sharply, “Are guys you fucking related or something?”

Yoongi blanches, cringes. “What? No.” he says, too quick for it not to be true. Jimin shrugs.  

You didn’t even introduce yourself but Jimin’s not angry, just curious. He puts the pieces together. A random woman who smells like Yoongi. A random omega who seems to live here. In this house that Yoongi is very dedicated to making livable.

Jimin is starting to think that he’s seen enough.

“What’s her fucking name anyway?” He can’t look at Yoongi’s face when he says it, watching his chin instead.

Yoongi says it, face stretching around a smile. Jimin snorts. “Hobi's going to fucking hate this.”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything, and Jimin takes it as what it is- a truth that Yoongi doesn’t want to justify. He looks after where you disappeared around the corner. Yoongi hadn’t looked alarmed at by your lack of verbal response or lack of consideration for dirtying the edge of the blanket (something that would likely make Jin tut and scold). Jimin doesn’t want to give Yoongi the satisfaction of asking, but he just can’t help it.

“So she doesn’t fucking speak?”

Yoongi deflates a little, whatever ease he had when you were right next to him dissipates immediately. Tae would call it wilting. “Not much.”

“Why?”

Yoongi bypasses Jimin’s question entirely, moving past him out the door. Jimin follows more out of frustration than anything else. Into the half set up kitchen where Yoongi pulls a pitcher of lemonade out of the old refrigerator and hands it to him. There’s a tray of chocolate tarts on the table. They look good enough to be from a bakery, glimmering with little pieces of glossy nut, caramel maybe. Jimin holds the pitcher, waits. Stares down at the lemon slices circling the ice cubes and bumping into each other as Yoongi gets the plastic cups down from on top of the fridge. He glances at the tarts.  

“I keep them up here so they don’t get dusty.” Yoongi says it like it matters. Jimin notices Yoongi’s hands are shaking. Quiets the anger in his chest, watching him fiddle, watching everything. “I’m always like- sanding shit? The walls, and the stupid molding. I got this like, belt sander? I think it’s called. I’ve never had one but I got it because I’m gonna start and redo the floors soon. I want to stain them dark the same way your first apartment was with Tae- you know, because you both liked it so much when you lived there.”

At the worst of times Jimin goes silent. Right now, he’s like you- mouth closed and unmoving.

Yoongi babbles and rinses out the cups and wipes them meticulously with paper towels. Jimin holds the lemonade. There is a black backpack also on top of the refrigerator. Likely out of reach for you given how short you are. You’re hardly taller than 5 feet. Jimin wonders what’s inside of it.

Jimin doesn’t reply to any of what Yoongi says. Yoongi is biting his lip when he turns.

“She has good days and bad days, and today is verging on a bad day. That’s why she didn’t speak.” Yoongi says seriously like the information is life and death. Jimin cannot resist the temptation to make Yoongi hurt the way they all have these last 8 months, cannot stop his words that come out brutal.

“Of course, you care about her bad days.” Yoongi looks up sharply. “You know, Jungkook’s had a lot of those too.”

Yoongi pauses, the sink runs, gurgling. A paper towel crumpling in his hand. It’s a low blow and Jimin almost feels bad for it.

Almost.

How had this stranger charmed their Yoongi into giving her this love? The kind that has him measuring your condition the same way Jimin has seen the beta do to the others time and time again. With every flu or stomach bug Yoongi had leveled them with the same amount of concern, that same look, like his whole world depends on the other person being okay.

Jimin decides then that he won’t hate you, you didn’t know what you were taking away from the pack. But Yoongi did. Yoongi knew full well what he was doing and yet he did it anyway. Maybe Jimin would hate him more if he didn’t look up at Jimin now, the same expression of quiet heartbreak on his face that Jimin feels on his own. That he’s seen on the packmates time and time again. No one wants to be here. No one wants to be strangers.

Maybe that’s all that matters.

Yoongi smells like the ocean, we and damp and salty. He sets the cups on the table and leans against it. “I know. I know what I did, what he must have gone through. You don’t have to tell me; I’ve thought about it every day since I left.” There is a gravity to his tone of voice, an ache, his voice cracks, unavoidable. “Every single day, every single time I sleep I wonder if he’s had one, if he’s-” a sound on the outside porch cuts Yoongi off. Jimin’s not sure what it is but Yoongi falls silent.

Jimin feels himself get angry enough for violence but it goes away just as quickly as it comes. That might save their conversation. Their whole relationship really. But Jimin doesn’t want to know about Yoongi’s aching. He doesn’t deserve Jimin’s concern.  

Jimin wonders what illness you’re sick with.

Jimin feels like he’s flip-flopping between hating you on principle and being suspiciously curious. It’s instinct maybe. Here is the pack’s beta, caring for an omega. Jimin’s instincts do not know how to sort that. He’s only used to Yoongi caring for omega’s that also belong to the pack. It’s confusing his emotions a little. That’s all it is Jimin decides- confusion.

“Did something happen to her then?” He asks. Jimin has his suspicions after just a few minutes with you. His brain working overtime to make sense of all of this. “Not that I care.”

Jimin can count the number of times he’s seen Yoongi truly angry on one hand. If he thinks back on it, he doesn’t even have a single memory of Yoongi shouting. Even when Jin gets punchy and brutal, or all the times that Namjoon and him have gone at each other’s throats. He’s just not the kind of man to feel his anger in his body. Not over spilled milk, or dents in cars (which Tae is unfortunately prone to leaving.)

Yoongi doesn’t even get angry over big things. Not when Jungkook had spilled beer on his expensive sound system or when Namjoon had accidentally burned a hole in his favorite sweatshirt (Jimin would have a full-on meltdown if someone did the same to him) Yoongi just doesn’t get angry.

But now Yoongi’s eyes burn, his hair hiding them halfway. His hands no longer shake, wound tight into fists, but his tone remains the same. “Yes.” 

The kitchen smells like the bottom of the ocean, grating to Jimin’s sensitive senses. But Yoongi supplies no other explanation. Not that Jimin is entitled to know precisely what happened to you. He’s barely even known you existed for 10 minutes. Whoever hurt you surely hasn’t paid the price for Yoongi to feel so angry over it.

No matter how much he wants to deny it; something in Jimin’s subconscious still considers Yoongi a part of their pack. Before Jimin can reign his instincts in his own scent shifts, from Gunsmoke sparking to vanilla musk, sweet and calming. Yoongi need not get angry- because Jimin is here to hold all that anger for him. It calms his agitated scent and Yoongi stops looking like he’s about to punch a hole through the newly re-plastered walls.

Yoongi wipes his hands with a cloth, and Jimin notices for the first time that the skin there is different- a lattice of little marks covers them, new scars so close to Yoongi’s skin tone that Jimin hadn’t noticed the detail. Jimin stares, but doesn’t have a moment to ask as Yoongi flops the cloth back and forth in the air, cursing lowly and touching the scent gland at his throat.

“Go outside and sit for a second. If she scents me like this, she’ll freak the fuck out. I’ll be right there.” Yoongi is in no position to order Jimin around and yet, he finds himself obeying.

The furniture on the outside porch is miss matched, Jimin doesn’t remember looking at it on his way inside. Too honed in on Yoongi and trailing after him like a dog to notice the details. It’s like half of it was bought at a yard sale but the cushions are thick and wide enough. The bottom cushions grey and stained in places from leaves and worn from the sun, the top ones look newer and dark. Jimin can’t help but think that the miss matchiness of it would drive Jin and Tae crazy.

This space has been made a bit more livable it seems, a pair of work boots sit muddy outside the door, and a birdfeeder hangs at either corner. A hummingbird feeder too- with syrup red that drips slow. Jimin wipes his hands on his jeans at the phantom feeling of stickiness.

It’s still a little cold outside in the mid-may chill, but it’s the nicest day of spring so far. The kind that threatens summer. Jimin stands in the doorway and watches you, taking a moment to observe you without Yoongi watching. You’ve dropped the blanket a bit, no longer up and over your head, it sits around you in a heap.

You’ve got narrow arms and narrow wrists. Dainty. That’s the first word that Jimin thinks to describe them.

Your limbs fold across your body like a protective barrier, like bone and arm can hide the necessary aching parts from anyone that would try and open you up. Your spine curls defensively over your core as you slouch into the cushion, sitting sideways (a position that also would earn you to tutting and displeasure of the pack omega, Jin has a very firm no slouching rule around the house). You lean your cheek on the back cushion like you can’t hold yourself up properly. Too tired, or too weak to do so. You’re still in your pajamas even though it’s nearly 3 pm. They’re colorful and something Hobi might wear; the pastel orange silk dotted with periwinkle blue flowers.

Jimin takes a step forward, and something in you curls tighter. Jimin freezes.

A bird lands in the birdfeeder and you flinch at the sudden movement. Jimin feels something rise and die in his chest as he lingers, an unintended voyeur.  You watch the little bird balanced on the feeder, relaxing just a little when it flutters away.

Jimin can tell you’re watching him too. Even though you’re not looking at him directly. You’ve learned to keep alpha’s in the corner of your eye at all time. Jimin is no different. Your eyes flutter at a warm breeze. And Jimin stands in the doorway. Watching.

“What do you say we make a truce?”

The wind whips through the deck, rustling the leaves and your form. Your eyes slide to Jimin, then off of him without a single word said in reply. But somehow Jimin feels like you’ve said volumes.

When he sits on the creaky outdoor chair, he chooses the one next to yours not the one opposite. Jimin sits as softly and as carefully as he can, making no sudden noises or movements.

Jimin hears something fall in the makeshift kitchen.

When Yoongi comes out, he smells like nothing but chocolate and lemonade. He hands Jimin a yellow plastic cup and you a purple one, saving a dark blue for himself. The lemonade is cool but tart. it’s something for his mouth to do instead of bark insults as Yoongi sits next to you, crinkling the fabric of the blanket. Disturbing your sort of nest.

Yoongi turns you around so that your legs can rest across his lap, delicately prying you out of your ball. Your eyes narrow slightly but you don’t fight it. Jimin finds himself measuring every moment of closeness between the two of you, searching for the answers in your actions since it’s clear Jimin won’t get much of an explanation otherwise. Yoongi rubs up and down your thigh with quick movements meant to warm your skin. You turn your head- craning your neck to look up at Yoongi. And Jimin catches it, the ridge worn into your lips where your front teeth must rest. The blanket falls away from your shoulders with the movement.

His eyes flicker down to your throat, and Jimin’s heart drops from his chest into his stomach. Suddenly. The fact that you haven’t spoken makes a lot more sense.

It’s kind of hard to miss. The mating mark is so large and violent.

Normal mating marks look pristine, neat circles with a clear definition of teeth. Most alphas are so careful when it comes to them, delicate and small mating marks are a show of a good alpha. An alpha of restraint. Most omegas are graced with pretty tiny circles that scar silver. It’s considered bad form if an alpha doesn’t make the mating marks as pretty as possible.

Jimin has never really cared about that, marking something far in his future if ever. If Jimin will bite someone it was always going to be Tae. While alpha’s don’t typically give each other mating bites- it’s no longer a taboo or illegal to do so (the bible and Jimin’s parents might disagree). But alpha alpha pairings are still not the norm. They’d honestly been planning on marking each other soon until Yoongi left and threw a wrench into their lives. And even that is just a formality; Jimin already belongs to Tae in every way that matters.

But now- looking at your marks, Jimin understands why making them neat and tidy is the bare minimum.

You look like someone fucking mauled you. You look like whoever bit you wanted to make it hurt. Jimin wonders if you even can speak or if the person who bit you legitimately ripped out your voice box or damaged your vocal cords.

The mark is mottled with splotches of purple-red and pink. The Individual teeth are hard to make out beneath all the scar tissue. It’s so large it takes up the entire right side of your neck from ear to collar bone. Whoever bit you either did it in a rush or had a massive mouth or maybe they just bit and pulled. It’s twice the size it should be and deeper in color than just blood red. Some other color lurking below the pink, purple, maybe bruised? Could it have been burned?

It catches the light, and Jimin realizes his confusion, it remains dark and flinty. Not bruised. Jimin knows what a mating mark looks like when someone’s mate dies.

Yoongi’s the only other person Jimin had scented in the house. He’s a bit of a bloodhound, the only person in the pack with a better sense of smell is Jungkook. Jimin is sure Whoever bit you is not here, sure whoever bit you is dead. Suddenly. Yoongi’s anger and absence makes more sense. Jimin is a little glad about that. He wishes his instincts weren’t chopping at the bit to be let out. He tries not to stare at the mark but fails miserably, Yoongi catches him looking. Jimin’s eyes flicker from the mark, up to Yoongi’s face.

“You aren’t going to like- tell me?” Yoongi may be many things but a liar isn’t one of them. if Jimin asks a question that Yoongi can’t answer, the beta just won’t. Simple as that.

Yoongi quirks an eyebrow, “are you going to ask?” out of the corner of his eye, Jimin sees you look from Jimin to Yoongi and back again, quietly taking it in. He sees the mark move with your swallow; it has to hurt. There’s no way it doesn’t. Jimin can’t stop staring at it.

Jimin decides that he won’t hate you, he won’t feel anything about you at all. It feels mean to not like someone so clearly vulnerable, so clearly hurt- fuck. Jimin’s never seen a mating mark that bad before. It’s hard not to be empathetic, to be sympathetic. Tae won’t be able to resist asking the story behind it and probably recommending you ask Jin for scar crème recommendations. Would probably trade you something nominal for one of his paisley scarves. Hating you makes him feel like worse than a dick- it makes him feel like someone Tae wouldn’t be proud of- which is infinitely worse.

The reason for Yoongi leaving had always been explanatory. His family needed him. They had only ever really wondered why Yoongi had stayed away and now- now Jimin has the answer and she’s sitting across from him fiddling with Yoongi’s sleeve. A touch that seems too affectionate for Jimin’s prying eyes, even as Yoongi’s hand gently covers the mark on your neck. Not stroking, just holding, covering it so that Jimin doesn’t stare.  

Yoongi takes that pause in conversation to change the topic. The house is easy to talk about. All Yoongi’s plans are kind of meandering. Can’t do the siding without the windows, can’t do the windows without dealing with the rot. He’s talked at you about it enough times that you tune him out almost entirely, watching the bird feeder. Jimin’s not sure why it matters, this house isn’t his. It will never belong to the pack, it’s just Yoongi’s.

Well, yours and Yoongi’s.

He can tell the front room is sinking into the ground, a few inches farther into the soil that it should be. Tipping almost towards the street. The front steps need to be replaced, the upstairs needed the most work when you moved in, the roof had a hole torn through it by a branch from a big oak tree that shades most of the front porch and house from the sunlight. Yoongi says something about the neighbors and insurance. A new roof is in your future. This week maybe? Jimin watches you while Yoongi talks, Yoongi has never been a nervous talker.  

It’s easy to talk about what doesn’t matter. Painfully easy to avoid a difficult conversation. Jimin tries one of the tarts and they’re delicious. Chocolatey and creamy without being too sweet. “These are really good.” He says. You look away sharply. But Yoongi has a small smile on his face.

Jimin is smart, usually, he can piece things together unsuccessfully. He doesn’t have to wonder after your relationship; it’s so plainly romantic. Your closeness makes the distance between Yoongi and Jimin sting. Brings up bad happy memories.

Jimin shouldn’t be so hurt, this is how beta’s are afterall. Beta’s always have multiple pack’s. Jimin is just so unused to his beta having someone else. So unused to this stranger with the messy hair and perpetually closed mouth. The mating mark and the flinching.  You’re a reminder that things can’t possibly go back to the way they were. All fantasies of Yoongi popping back into their lives like nothing has changed are firmly put to rest. Everything’s changed, it’s stupid to pretend it hasn’t.

You’ve been silent through all of it. Almost unnervingly so. You’d alternated between playing with Yoongi’s hands and the edge of the blanket. Fidgeting in the way that Jimin’s alpha recognizes as an omega who wants to nest but can’t. Yoongi never tries to stop you, it’s cutely tactical the way you fiddle him like he’s an extension of yourself. It reminds Jimin of something that Jungkook would do.

Jimin doesn’t understand, and it makes less and less sense the longer he stays on the porch with you two. Through the early afternoon and firmly into dinnertime territory, until the sun starts its brutal descent. And yet he doesn’t want to tear himself away. He’s struck with the idea that if he goes, Yoongi will somehow find a way to disappear again. Jimin doesn’t want to let him out of his sight. Doesn’t trust it when he blinks, like Yoongi will vanish like a specter or a ghost. There one second and then gone the next.

At least the house seems permanent.

The sun is charting its daily course towards the horizon, and Jimin knows if he says any longer Jin will start to worry. Jimin knows where he’s called to be. Just like you and Yoongi belong here Jimin belongs back at their apartment. Jimin doesn’t really want to be here anymore and can’t find an excuse to excuse himself, Yoongi doesn’t seem intent on rushing him out in the slightest. There is only so much of this that Jimin can take before his insides start to feel all rotten with jealousy and yearning.  A sour taste in his mouth that has nothing to do with the lemonade.

At the very least, it doesn’t really last.

You’ve dozed through the last hours, but when Yoongi moves to stand, you move too, swaying on your feet. Yoongi doesn’t say anything about inviting him back or telling the others. Yoongi knows that Jimin will not stay away, can’t help it.

But as they move to the stairs, you follow them. Before he can fully descend them, you stop him. Hand grabbing his sleeve. Jimin has to stop himself from pulling it out of your grasp on instinct. You look like you’re struggling for a moment to talk. Your lips are trying to move around words but your throat can’t summon the sounds associated with them. You never meet his eyes, never even tilt your head up, your hair and your eyelashes hiding the color of them from Jimin.

Yoongi quiets your frustration with a hand on either side of your face, tucking your baby hairs behind your ears. Behind you on the steps and several heads taller than you as a result. It makes your eyes flutter gently.

“It’s okay- why don’t you just tell me and I can tell him okay?” You rise on the steps to properly whisper into Yoongi’s ear without having to go up on your tippy-toes. Jimin watches. Hand on the railing, feeling it creek with the movement.

Yoongi smiles, pulling away but holding onto your shoulder in way that Jimin wishes he could be held. The way that Yoongi has sort of resisted holding you the entire time Jimin’s been here. Jimin is so fucking jealous and it must show on his face because Yoongi’s smile falters when he looks up.  

“She wants you to come back,” Yoongi hesitates, “and you can bring a few of the others if they want to come.” A few- and only a few, because Yoongi doesn’t think you can handle meeting all of them at once. That might be too much for your little heart to handle. Jimin doesn’t like the way he says it, something too conditional about it.

Something in Jimin’s heart squishes, painfully. A branch, a truce. It’s a feeling so strange and unexpected that he hardly recognizes it for what it is- guilt. You must know. You have to know what you’re inviting in. Despite the fact and the fact that Jimin’s spent the last hour ignoring and tolerating your presence without so much as a half kind word offered in your direction- you still offer it. So he nods and finds himself agreeing.

A bird lands on the birdfeeder. Your eyes follow it. Yoongi looks down at you and smiles. A dark grackle with wings like an oil slick. Little and fluttery. Jimin can’t help but notice that this time, you didn’t flinch.

~-~

Notes:

i've been toying with changing the opening line in bily and someone remind me to go back and change parts of this chapter if i ever do.

i think that in the moment where jimin is like "did something happen to her?" and yoongi is like "yes" he's thinking yes- something did happen to her, i happened to her.

if it wasn't clear, yoongi is barely keeping it together.

there's one part of this chapter where jimin curses like 3 times in 3 lines of dialouge, and i really love this tidbit for his charecter, like he has such a sailors mouth. i think the only other person who curses as much as him is the m/c T-T

fun fact i think the short peices at the top of the m/c's head are the ones that geumjae ripped out on the night that she ran away.

Hyunjin didn’t hesitate, fumbling for the lube and messily stretching himself open. He straddled Changbin’s lap, sinking down onto his cock with a sharp cry, his nails digging into his shoulders. His thighs trembled as he adjusted, the sudden stretch stealing his breath, but soon he was rocking slowly, exactly like he’d been told.

“That’s it,” Changbin murmured, his hands gripping Hyunjin’s hips firmly. “Slow. Just like this.”

Hyunjin whined, his movements controlled but needy, every drag of Bin’s cock inside him making his toes curl. “Can I-” he gasped, already bouncing a little quicker. “Can I go faster soon?”

“Not yet,” Changbin said firmly, giving his waist a squeeze. His voice was low, commanding, but laced with patience. “You’ll wait until I say.”

Hyunjin bit his lip hard, nodding, though the ache in his body only grew. He tried to stay steady, but after a few more rolls of his hips he couldn’t help himself: his hips snapped harder, quicker, desperation overriding restraint. The moan that spilled out of him was wrecked and shameless.

“Doesn’t it feel better like this?” Hyunjin panted, his back arching as he rode him faster. “You feel it too, don’t you? Saw you earlier…it was hard for you to sit still, wasn’t it?”

For a moment, Changbin let him. He leaned back, watching Hyunjin lose himself, those pretty moans falling from his lips as he bounced messily on his cock. But then his grip tightened, and in one smooth motion, he hauled Hyunjin down and flipped them, pressing him into the mattress.

Hyunjin yelped, the sound breaking into a moan when Changbin thrust into him hard, setting a brutal pace. “Fuck, Binnie!”

“I’m the one who sets the pace,” Changbin growled, hips snapping sharp and deep. “You don’t get to take control from me.”

Hyunjin cried out, face twisting in ecstasy as the bed slammed against the wall, each thrust rocking him further apart. “I’m-I’m sorry!” he cried out, though his moan was anything but regretful, his body clenching tight around every rough thrust.

“That’s what I thought,” Changbin muttered, fucking him harder, his grip bruising on Hyunjin’s waist.

Hyunjin’s hands clawed at the sheets, his thighs shaking violently. He couldn’t stop the stream of moans spilling from his mouth, high and unrelenting, each one louder than the last. His toes curled tight, sweat dripping down his temple, but through it all, he was smiling - blissed-out and desperate, because this was exactly what he’d wanted. Hyunjin’s smile wavered into another broken moan as Changbin drove into him, the bedframe rattling louder with every slam against the wall. His thighs were trembling, spread so wide he could barely hold himself up anymore. Every thrust hit deep, brutal and unrelenting, tearing sounds from him he couldn’t have held back even if he’d tried.

“God, listen to you,” Changbin gritted out, sweat beading at his brow. His hands pinned Hyunjin’s hips down, forcing him to take every inch. “Moaning like you were made for this.”

“I was, ahhh, fuck, I was,” Hyunjin babbled, toes curling hard as his back arched off the mattress. His nails clawed at the sheets, bunching them tight in his fists. “Feels so good, Binnie, please, please don’t stop-.”

“I’m not stopping until you’re falling apart under me,” Changbin growled, pounding into him faster, harder. The sound of skin slapping filled the room, their ragged breaths and Hyunjin’s constant whimpers echoing off the walls.

Hyunjin’s head tipped back, eyes rolling, his voice breaking into one long, desperate cry. “Bin-I’m-I can’t-fuck-please”

“You can,” Changbin snapped, one hand leaving his waist to wrap tight around his cock. He pumped him roughly, matching the merciless rhythm of his thrusts. “You’ll cum when I tell you to.”

The stimulation sent Hyunjin spiraling, his thighs shaking uncontrollably, his body writhing beneath the weight holding him down. Every nerve in him screamed for release. “Please, Binnie, I’m gonna-ahhh, please let me-.”

Changbin leaned over him, their chests brushing as he slammed deeper, faster. His voice was rough against Hyunjin’s ear. “Now. Cum for me.”

The command shattered him. Hyunjin screamed, his body jerking violently as he spilled across his stomach. His walls clenched tight around Changbin, pulling a guttural groan from him.

Changbin fucked him through it, thrusts even rougher now, until his own climax tore free. He buried himself deep, hips stuttering as he groaned loud into Hyunjin’s shoulder, filling him until he trembled from the aftershocks.

Hyunjin was still moaning softly, overstimulated and blissed-out, when Changbin finally slowed, rocking them both through the fading pulses.

The sheets were damp, the bed pushed halfway off the wall from the force, Hyunjin sprawled boneless beneath him with flushed cheeks and a ruined smile tugging at his lips. “Told you,” he whispered hoarsely, eyes barely open, “I always get what I want.”

Changbin smirked breathlessly, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Brat,” he muttered, though his voice softened, steadying Hyunjin with his hands. “But you took it so well.” Hyunjin’s answering giggle was small, wrecked, but happy. He let himself sink into the mattress, thighs still trembling, as Changbin held him close.

-

Felix moved first, tugging Jisung into his lap with trembling hands until he was straddling his thigh. “Just-just try it,” Felix whispered, guiding Jisung’s hips down.

The first grind dragged a helpless whimper out of Jisung’s throat, high and sweet. His cock strained against his sweats, already leaking, and the rough drag of fabric against Felix’s thigh sent sparks bursting through him. He rocked again, harder, nails digging into Felix’s shoulders. “Felix fuck, it feels so good, I can’t — don’t stop, please don’t make me stop,” Jisung babbled into his neck, already lost in the friction.

Felix shuddered beneath him, his own cock aching painfully. Jisung’s pace grew frantic, hips snapping down again and again, soaking Felix’s sweatpants with slick precum until the fabric clung wetly to both of them. Every jolt made Felix’s toes curl, his hands bruising Jisung’s waist. “God, you’re so messy already,” Felix moaned, his breath catching in his throat.

Jisung whimpered brokenly, rutting harder, their mouths clashing in a sloppy kiss that left them both panting into each other’s mouths.

Felix couldn’t take it anymore. He toppled them both onto the sofa, climbing over Jisung until their hips pressed flush together. Their cocks aligned through their sweats, already slick with precum. “Feels good,” Felix gasped, rutting down once, and both of them cried out.

The friction was hot, messy, and perfect. Each grind smeared precum thick between them, soaking the fabric until every roll of their hips made wet, obscene sounds. “Yes, yes, fuck, don’t stop,” Jisung begged, legs falling open wider, his back arching into every grind.

Felix buried his face against his throat, rutting harder, desperate. “I’m, fuck, I’m already so close, but I don’t wanna stop.”

“Me neither,” Jisung whimpered, clinging to his back. Their kisses turned frantic, teeth clashing, lips slick with spit as they rocked harder and harder, chasing friction like they’d die without it.

But it still wasn’t enough. Jisung pulled them sideways, panting, until they were tangled together on their sides. He shoved his thigh between Felix's legs and hooked Felix's between his own.

Felix whined, but didn’t hesitate. Both started rutting desperately into each other’s thighs. Their bodies burned with effort, but they clung together desperately, whimpering into each other’s mouths as they rutted harder, their cocks twitching with every messy grind.

Suddenly, Felix pulled Jisung off the sofa, staggering toward the wall. He pressed him flush against it, chest to his back, rutting up hard against his ass. “Stay like that, please,” Felix whimpered, his voice breaking as his cock ground into the curve of Jisung’s ass through both their soaked sweats.

Jisung moaned loudly, palms flat against the wall, rutting back shamelessly. “Felix-oh god, don’t stop, it feels so good.”

Their hips slammed together, precum leaking out hot and fast, smeared slick between them. Felix sobbed against his shoulder, rutting harder, his nails digging into Jisung’s hips. “You’re — fuck, I can’t stop, can’t-.”

“Please harder, harder, please,” Jisung cried, his forehead pressing into the wall, every thrust making his thighs shake.

-

Jeongin barely made it into his room before slamming the door shut and collapsing onto the edge of his bed. His face was burning hot, flushed all the way to the tips of his ears. His chest heaved, every nerve still buzzing, every pulse thrumming painfully low in his stomach. He hated how badly his body reacted…again.

He grabbed his pillow, dragging it into his lap to hide the tent in his sweats. Curling forward, he buried his face in the fabric, groaning miserably. “God, what is wrong with me?”

The door creaked open before he could even catch his breath. “Thought so,” Seungmin’s voice lilted, smug amusement dripping from every word. Jeongin whipped his head up, mortified, but Seungmin was already stepping inside. The grin on his face widened at the sight before him.

“Leave me alone,” Jeongin groaned, dragging the pillow tighter to his lap. His face was crimson, his legs trembling.

Seungmin only giggled softly, climbing up onto the bed without hesitation. He sat cross-legged across from him, eyes glinting. “You’re adorable. All flushed and squirmy, hiding behind a pillow like it’s gonna save you.”

“Hyung,” Jeongin whined, his voice cracking. “Please.”

Seungmin tilted his head, gaze flicking down pointedly. “Gonna make use of that pillow, hm?” he teased, voice soft but biting.

Jeongin’s breath hitched, his stomach twisting with humiliation and need all tangled together. He buried his face back into the pillow, groaning, but his hips betrayed him, pressing against it before he could stop himself.

“There it is,” Seungmin chuckled, low and fond. He shuffled closer, sliding behind Jeongin on the mattress and curling his hands around his waist. “Don’t be shy, Innie. I can guide you through it. Maybe even reward you if you do well.”

Jeongin shivered, his thighs clenching, but his body moved anyway. Slowly, he shifted forward and pressed his hips down, the fabric dragging deliciously against his cock through his sweats. A strangled moan slipped out before he could swallow it back.

Seungmin hummed in approval, his palms firm on his hips. “Good boy. Keep moving.”

Jeongin obeyed, grinding down harder into the pillow, the pressure exquisite - soft but thick, the friction spreading heat through every nerve in his body. His cock throbbed, every stroke against the plush fabric pulling a broken whimper from his lips. He straddled the pillow desperately, rutting like he couldn’t stop himself, hips rolling in an erratic rhythm.

“That’s it,” Seungmin purred, his hands steadying him, forcing his movements into something smoother, controlled. “Find a rhythm, Innie. Let me help you.”

Jeongin’s breath hitched, his moans spilling free in high, choked sounds as he rocked faster, sweat already dotting his temple. His thighs burned with effort, trembling, but it felt so good he couldn’t stop. His cock rubbed tight and hot against the fabric, slick dampening his sweats, the pressure making his toes curl.

When his moans pitched higher, Seungmin smirked and leaned forward, slipping his hands beneath Jeongin’s shirt. His fingers found the sensitive peaks of his chest, rolling his nipples mercilessly.

Jeongin jolted, a wrecked cry tearing out of him. “Hyung, ahh-.”

“Shh,” Seungmin teased, tweaking them harder, watching him shudder. “You’re so sensitive. Look at you, rutting like a desperate pup. So needy and red for me.”

Jeongin buried his face in the pillow again, muffling his cries as his body trembled violently. His cock throbbed painfully, the knot of heat coiling tighter in his gut. And just when he was about to snap, Seungmin stilled his hips with a cruel grip. “Not yet.”

Jeongin let out a guttural groan, collapsing against the pillow, his body shaking with denied release. “Please, please let me-”

“Not yet,” Seungmin repeated, his tone steady, teasing. He pressed a kiss to the back of Jeongin’s flushed neck. “You’re not ready.”

It happened three more times. Each time Jeongin’s body shuddered on the edge, Seungmin forced him still, dragging him back from the brink. His thighs shook, his chest heaved, his voice broke into helpless sobs. Finally, Jeongin turned his head, eyes wet, his lips trembling. “Hyung,” he begged, shameless. “Please fill me up. I need it. Please.”

Seungmin’s smirk softened into something darker, hungrier. “Now you’re ready.”

He shoved the pillow aside and pressed Jeongin down into the mattress, covering his dick in lube and lining himself up. When he pushed in from behind, Jeongin wailed, his whole body arching as the stretch filled him to the brim. “Fuck — so full.” Jeongin sobbed, face buried in the sheets.

Seungmin gripped his hips and started thrusting, slow at first. Each time Jeongin’s voice cracked into desperate pleas, Seungmin stopped again, forcing him to ride the edge until he was shaking. He edged him, until Jeongin was nothing but a wrecked, crying mess, his thighs trembling violently, his hands clawing the sheets.

When Seungmin finally relented, snapping his hips hard and hitting his prostate dead-on, Jeongin nearly screamed into the pillow. His body convulsed, his cock spilling untouched across the sheets as pleasure shattered him.

“Good boy,” Seungmin growled, pounding him through his orgasm, the sound of skin slapping filling the room. Jeongin moaned continuously, his smile wrecked and blissful.

-

Jisung spun suddenly, pressing his back into the wall and shoving down his sweatpants and boxers in one go. Felix took the hint, following his lead and stepped closer, their cocks rubbing together hot and bare as they ground chest-to-chest.

“Oh fuck, fuck, oh god,” Felix sobbed, rutting fast, precum slicking both their cocks until the friction was unbearable.

Jisung clutched his shoulders, whimpering nonstop, rambling incoherently between moans. “Feels so good.” Their mouths collided again, sloppy, whimper-filled kisses as they rutted against each other, their bodies trembling violently with every messy grind.

They broke almost together — Jisung first, his whole body convulsing as cum spilled hot across both their stomachs. His wail echoed in the small room. Felix followed seconds later, spilling thick ropes over Jisung’s skin with a choked sob, his body collapsing against him.

-

The room smelled faintly of soap and steam; the sheets were warm where Chan lay draped over Minho’s chest, tracing idle circles along his ribs.

Chan giggled as they listened to the chaos unfolding in their dorm, breath ghosting over Minho’s skin. “You deserve a treat after all that.”

Before Minho could answer, Chan slid down, settling between his knees. A gentle nudge parted Minho’s thighs; skilled hands began kneading into the tight muscle there. It was a slow, soothing pressure that made Minho exhale and sink deeper into the pillows.

“Channie,” Minho’s voice went soft, warning and want braided together.

“Shh. Let me, please.” Chan’s smile tipped sweet and then his lips wrapped around him, warm, wet, and sure, taking him in with a slow, savoring pull. Minho’s head fell back; a soft moan slipped free as his toes curled under the sheet. His fingers found Chan’s damp curls and sank in, not pushing, just anchoring.

Chan worked him like he knew every inch — tongue flattening along the underside, then circling the head with a slick, teasing swirl before sliding back down. His thumbs stroked the inside of Minho’s thighs, kneading away the last of the evening’s tension as he bobbed deeper. Each hollowed-cheek pull drew a sweeter sound from Minho; each unhurried glide back made Minho's stomach tighten and heat pool low.

“God, Chan,” The syllable broke into a breathy whine when Chan hummed, the vibration buzzing through Minho’s spine. Chan’s free hand cupped the base, slick and steady, while the other climbed higher to knead the knot near Minho’s hip. “That’s it,” Minho breathed, toes curling harder. “Feels so good. Such a good boy for me.”

Chan lifted just enough to murmur, “Always,” lips shining, then took him deep again, nose brushing skin as his throat eased around the stretch. Minho’s hips twitched despite himself, a shocked, helpless sound punching out of him. Chan didn’t flinch — he swallowed, held, then eased back, letting the next pulse drag over his tongue in a way that made Minho shiver.

The rhythm turned intent: deep, greedy pulls broken by slow, deliberate licks under the head, a twist at the top that made Minho gasp and clutch at Chan’s hair. Wet, obscene sounds filled the quiet room, pleasure built fast and bright; Minho’s calves flexed, his breath coming shorter. “Chan, I’m-.” The warning frayed into a moan.

Chan’s answer was a needy little hum as he slid all the way down and held him there, throat fluttering. That did it — heat snapped tight and spilled over. Minho groaned, body locking as he came; Chan swallowed steady, guiding him through every twitch with slow, coaxing strokes until Minho sagged boneless into the pillows.

When Chan finally eased off, he pressed a kiss to the sensitive tip, then another to the inside of Minho’s thigh. “Good?” he asked, voice small and pleased.

Minho tugged him up and kissed him, slow and grateful, tasting warmth and a hint of salt. “Perfect,” he murmured against Chan’s mouth. “You’re perfect.”

They wiped up with the edge of a towel and settled back in together. Chan tucked his head beneath Minho’s chin; Minho’s fingers drifted through his curls, lazy and tender, while the quiet settled around them.

“Sleep now,” Minho whispered, pressing a last kiss to Chan’s forehead. “I’ve got you.”

PART ONE | PART TWO

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

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