Just relax.

He’s easily able to identify Yoongi’s bored expression. The subtle twitching of one of the tendons in his arm, indicating the flicking on and off of his lighter under the table. Taehyung next to him, nodding along to whatever Jimin is babbling on about, though his gaze doesn’t leave Yoongi’s plate. Presumably watching where the lighter would be seated under the grain of the wood, nose twitching. 

Taehyung has always hated when Yoongi smokes, though Jimin’s always been the one more vocal about it. 

Yoongi maintains the conversation with Jimin as normal, like his mind isn’t drifting off to the locations he might still have a pack hidden. Even though Jin knows Yoongi has been clean off them for almost six months, he also knows he still gets his urges. 

It’s a good thing Jimin doesn’t notice the subtle smell of smoke over the candles– that would be a different issue entirely. One likely resulting in Jimin getting scruffed for causing a scene, quickly followed by Taehyung getting in the pack alpha’s face for doing such a thing. Too many competing pheromones in the room always cause trouble. 

Lucky for everyone that Taehyung decides to keep his mouth shut for now, and that Jimin is none the wiser with Hoseok’s hand on his thigh. The older male chatting away with Namjoon, palming roughly at the skin while Jimin simply preens at the motion.

Jimin always loves attention– good or bad– especially if it means he gets to fight back. 

Looks like tonight he will, with how roughly Hoseok holds him. A placid, happy smile on Hoseok’s face, though the tightness in his shoulders and jaw give it all away. He’s been gone far too long, dealing with too many grunts that he isn’t allowed to discipline properly, asking too stupid questions like they haven’t been living in this mess for the exact same amount of time as the rest of them. 

It’s clear to both Seokjin and Namjoon that he needs some sort of release. Jimin, too, if the glint in his eye is anything to go by. As long as he wouldn’t try to get that release out via the pack alpha, there would be no issues. None at all. 

Namjoon knows Hoseok likes his games. Namjoon knows them all well, Seokjin is aware. Knows that while Namjoon and Seokjin prefer to keep things clean and mess free, Hoseok is the opposite. Likes to end the night with blood on his teeth and his inner wolf finally satiated.

Seokjin also knows Namjoon well enough to know that even with his smile and his handsome dimples flashing in Hoseok’s direction, his eyes never lose their pinch on Jeongguk’s vibrating form. Watching him. Analysing and just waiting for the young alpha to slip up and talk. 

Jeongguk hadn’t touched a single bite of his meal. Hasn’t been able to lose that smile on his lips, no matter how many times he helplessly tries to bite it away. Hasn’t been able to sit still for a single second ever since he came back to their truck spouting off nonsense about some mystery omega that can’t possibly exist. 

The things went functionally extinct ages ago. 

No matter how many times Seokjin told him, he still wouldn’t listen. Still wouldn’t do anything but babble on about how cute and perfect you were. Even now, though he’s present at the table, he’s not listening to anything being said. Not to Yoongi’s lazy drawl at Taehyung and Jimin, or Jimin’s whispered words in Hoseok’s ear. Not to Hoseok and Namjoon’s laughter tilted around plans to further reinforce one of their compounds. And certainly not to Seokjin’s added quips about nothing that really matters. 

It was starting to piss Seokjin off, in all honesty. The way the maknae’s become so sappy and love drunk off of something that wasn’t there. Almost made him want to punch him in the face, almost. Not that he would ever let it show. Of course not, he has more than enough restraint for that. He’s a kind and caring hyung. One who is ever patient and carefree. Not the disciplinarian or the boss. Not the coldhearted silent type or the keening individual, either. 

No. He’s the peacekeeper, no matter how much the younger one grates on his nerves. How much he just wants to call him delusional and forbid him from ever bringing up the topic again because of how improbable it was. 

At least Jeongguk has the decency to try and wait until there’s a lull in the conversation. 

All of this Seokjin has taken in and accounted for from the moment he lifted his glass of wine, to the moment it touches his lips. Of course, still getting in a snide remark back at Hoseok along the way. Maintaining perfect precision throughout it all. To make sure his pack is stable amongst seven competing personalities and seven competing alphas. To make sure his pack is safe. 

Yes, Seokjin is perceptive, and that is exactly why his eyes keep going back to the youngest. Exactly why he can’t see this going anywhere near well. 

“I met my mate today.” Jeongguk blurts, unable to hole back his excitement anymore, it seems. Cutting off the various conversations around the table, making everyone but Seokjin freeze mid-chew. A hanging ‘another one, this one just for me’ in the air that Jin knows only he is able to detect.

Jeongguk has always been possessive. 

The silence is impermeable, he knows. The clinking of tableware has frozen, half of his packmates eyes growing into saucers, all faces directing themselves right at Jeongguk smiling like a man in love.  

“Ay, Jay-kayyy!” It was Hoseok who finally broke it after what felt like too long. His hands placing down his knife in favour of slapping Jeongguk’s back hard. Shaking him just a little as his smile somehow splits even wider on his face, “Never knew you had it in you!” 

Hoseok claps him on his spine a few more times before his hand trails upwards, interlacing with his hair. Shaking his head around just a little in celebration, “When do we get to meet the thing? You gonna bring them into the pack soon?” 

Seokjin wants to laugh at that, but chooses to remain silent instead. Resolved in keeping his calm, complacent smile on his lips while he cuts into his meat. Namjoon dabbing the corner of his mouth with a napkin, keeping a similarly neutral expression. It’s no wonder the two have gotten along so well for so long. 

“Ahhh,” Jeongguk hums, rubbing the back of his neck, “I kind of… lost her…” He looks up to Seokjin for help, of which the eldest offers none. Simply taking another sip of his wine instead. “Hyung and I were doing our bang and burn and she sort of… ran away from me?”

Suddenly, Jimin is springing from his seat, eyes locked on Jeongguk with a dusty pink on his cheeks, “Well why didn’t you chase her!” He demands, one finger tapping at the table. “You have to chase after your mates or they won't come!” 

Taehyung nods wisely in agreement, but still keeps his mouth shut while his other half continues, “I bet she was the cutest thing ever!! How could you just let her get away!” 

“She is!” The youngest quickly agrees, nodding his head in a motion Seokjin could only describe as floppy. His eyes staring up at Jimin like this ‘new-found-mate’ hung all the stars in the sky. “I only saw her for a second, but she was the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.” 

“So why didn’t you go after her?” It’s Yoongi that speaks up this time, surprisingly enough. Seokjin’s eyes trail over to the male, observing the interest in his expression though he hides it well. 

Jeongguk whines, collapsing his head into his arms, “I tried! Hyung caught me and pulled me away ‘cause the fires were too big. She was fast, too. …Slippery. I could’ve caught her though, with more time.” 

“Have to hunt properly then.” Taehyung’s sultry voice speaks up– one of the first few times it had that night. He always liked to keep more in his own head than saying his thoughts out loud. Namjoon believed it to be a side effect of spending many of his formative years alone, though Seokjin took that with a grain of salt. He clearly expressed himself when he wanted to.

“I know…” Though the alpha sounds defeated, his sigh turns dreamy, “The prettiest omega I’ve ever seen, though…”

Everyone in the room holds their breath for the second time that night. 

“Omega…?” Jimin slowly breathes out, blinking a few times to catch up, to process what Jeongguk had said, as well as the absurdity of it.

There have been no recorded cases of free omegas in at least 5 years. Only a few packs somehow came into possession of them. Between the men, they could count on all of their fingers how many remained in the country– so why exactly did Jeongguk believe he had seen one in the flesh, much less without any protection.

Jimin hesitates in the air for a second before all the indignation leaves it, slumping back into his chair as if his candy had just been stolen right out from underneath of him. Crossing his arms over his chest, making out a simple phrase under his breath– one Seokjin knows everyone must be feeling. “Fuckin’ waste of time…”  

“So you hallucinated.” Yoongi rolls his eyes, the tendon in his arm twitching to life back again. Losing interest, as well as patience with the entire situation. 

“What? No!” Jeongguk’s head finally swivels up from his plate, gaze passing back and forth between the two hyung’s who have apparently betrayed him. “She’s real! I’m not lying!” 

Hoseok slowly pulls his hand back from Jeongguk, a little scoff in his inflection as he repeats, “So you’re trying to tell us that you saw an omega, just out there. Alone.” 

The youngest nods his head so fast Jin worries he might give himself whiplash. Around the table, a scoff of ‘bullshit’ from Yoongi can be heard, as well as the creak of Jimin’s chair as he leans back. Even though the rest show their clear displeasure with the conversation, at least Hoseok still tries to be gentle with him, especially with the pack alpha not muttering a word. 

“If there were even still omegas out there–” There's slight hesitation in the air before he continues his words, “They would be pack omegas. And no pack would let their omega out of their sight like that.” 

“What he means to say is that no pack would be that fucking stupid to just let their omega out and free omegas don’t exist.” Yoongi rolls his eyes. Jin wonders if he should sneak him a cig no matter how much he finds the action distasteful-- dealing with his attitude is worse. “You saw a fucking ghost, get over it.”

“Lying for attention is bad, Gguk-ah.” It’s Jimin’s voice that perks up next, but the notion is lost considering his own track record. 

“I’m not lying!” Seokjin has to give him credit, at least. Any other alpha would have backed down by now considering all of the unpleasant pheromones bittering the air around them. Any other alpha would have retreated to their rooms to lick at their wounds in peace– but he expects nothing less of someone like Jeongguk. Someone with a pure-blooded line. 

He often wonders what might have happened if Namjoon didn’t find Jeongguk when he did. The eldest is sure he would have formed his own pack already. Maybe even one that rivals Namjoon’s own in terms of strength. Not that any of them have to worry about that now, Jeongguk is too in love with the pack alpha to do anything rash. 

The youngest continues nonplussed, “I saw her! She’s mine! She was standing right in front of me! Hyung saw her, too!” Seokjin's ears twitch when he hears his name enter the conversation, his knife stopping its cutting motion as he feels the gaze of 5 sets of eyes turn to him. 

The peacekeeper. The formal title of pack’s second in command, the packs beta. The informal beta rank– even though he isnt– placed onto his shoulders. 

He breathes once before returning to the motion. “I didn’t see anything.” He only hums, placing a piece of meat in his tongue. A relaxed expression on his face as he looks at his maknae. “Wah~ whoever cooked tonight is incredible! You all should praise him more!” 

The second half of his comment is ignored by Jeongguk’s whine, “You guys are the worst! I killed a zombie for her! I know what I saw!” 

“And how do you know she wasn’t just a stray beta?” Hoseok’s voice again. 

Jeongguk furrows his brows, “I just– I know.” The urge is insistent. Like there’s some unseen force acting that Seokjin is unable to process himself. 

As if that was anywhere near probable. 

“Oh yeah? And what did she smell like?” It’s Jimin that draws on again, pushing his plate to the center of the table, clearly no longer hungry. Taehyung leisurely bobs his head along, and Seokjin is unable to miss the way his eyes light up just a smidge– Taehyung has always been a little obsessed with scent. He’s got too good of a nose for him not to be.

Too bad Seokjin already knows the answer, and with the visible deflation of Jeongguk’s expression, the rest of them know it too, “....I…. I didn’t smell her… but–” 

“Kid’s fucking lost it.” Yoongi snorts, shaking his head. 

“Ruts’ early, m’be.” At Taehyung’s smooth, though food-muffled, comment, heads around the table begin to nod sagely. As if that could explain his delusions. “Food’s goomm, ‘yung.”

Seokjin tilts his glass in Taehyung’s direction. He wishes the man at least swallowed first, but at least one of them appreciates him. 

Hoseok is back to business though– he always is. Seokjin knows it's necessary with the role he fulfils in the pack. “Do you think he’ll be fine with one of us? Or should we look for a beta to help him through.” 

They’re speaking as if Jeongguk isn’t sitting right there, a quick glance to the youngest confirms the eldest’s thoughts. Jeongguk hates being not taken into account. Being ignored. This right here is no exception. 

“Get him a beta.” It’s Jimin who cuts in again, waving his hand dismissively in the air, “Maybe then he’ll calm down.” Seokjin knows Jimin wants to add something else crass into the mix, but doesn’t want to be punished for uttering such things at dinner. Not when his mood has already dropped so low at Jeongguk’s brattiness.

Well, once brattiness. It appears the mood around him has changed– soured in a way. No longer is he looking like some helpless thing who wants his hyung’s support and guidance, but an actual threat. Bitter air radiating from the poor kid's body, his teeth gritting together as his posture straightens, his chest puffing out a bit as if he was looking for a fight at the mere thought of his fictional omega being disparaged. Replaced with some worthless beta. 

“No I haven’t!” His tone returns to its certain demeanour, a second wind breathing new life into the young alpha, “My rut isn’t coming either!” His voice is still raising, more and more bitterness leaking into the air, ruining everyone's appetite. Well, everyone except for Taehyung, Seokjin notes, but that one is never full. “Even if it was, I don’t want anyone but her to help me though it!” 

Oh. Seokjin looks to Namjoon, the pack alpha meeting his own eyes, sharing the same thought. This could be an issue, then. 

Jimin though, he’s irreverent. Jeongguk’s smell only driving him into further frustration, a pungent, upsetting odour leaking from both of their pores, “You didn’t smell her, didn’t see her for more than 2 seconds, you’re ridiculous. You expect us to believe some fucking fairytale, Gguk-ah? Seriously? What a joke.” 

Fingernails gripping the hardwood of the table signals to Seokjin that he needs to work this down somehow. Should probably figure out a way to, probably. It would be bad if they fought. If they had some sort of physical altercation. Would be even worse if Jeongguk beat Jimin one on one.

He glances at Namjoon once more, though doesn't see an inkling of concern across his features. 

…Then again, maybe it is time the youngest has a firmer reality check. 

“I’m not fucking lying! Stop saying that!” 

Jimin only scoffs again, raising from his chair, his palms planted firmly on the surface of the grain. Hoseok’s hand is on the back of his shirt in a second, holding it to keep him in place. A firm look from Jimin’s elder putting him in his place. 

“Right, right. Of course.” He holds his hands up in placation, though his scent doesn’t back down even a fraction. His clear distaste in the air. “How were you sooo sure it was an omega then?” 

Something strange happens next, something even Seokjin couldn’t account for before it happened. Jeongguk… Jeongguk becomes almost… he becomes placid. That is the simplest way he can describe it, so it is the description he shall use.

All at once, the youngest’s shoulders sag– a far away look grows beyond his eyes as if he’s looking at the girl while they speak. An almost pleasant aroma begins to seep from his skin, a small smile on his lips. 

It is… an odd thing to witness, to say the least. Especially with the energy that had been radiating off of him only moments prior. 

“I just know.” His voice has toned down a few notches, too. No longer yelling– just calm, content. “She was just… she was so small.”

Seokjin would argue that anyone compared to Jeongguk could be considered small. Well, any betas could be, at least. Physically speaking, alphas are always much larger than any other rank– something that was predisposed to them in their genes. Jin, himself, was already 6’6”, the youngest just a few inches taller. So that reasoning alone wasn’t anything to go by, not in the slightest. 

Still, he watches as the young alpha grapples with himself. As his fist clenches and unclenches, as he looks like he wants to reach out for nothing in particular. Eyes soft and doughy. “So cute… she couldn’t not have been. I’m sure of it.” 

This is going to be trouble indeed. 

Seokjin watches as Jeongguk’s eyes flicker to life– a determined blaze settling behind them. Gaze looking towards every one of his alphas as he continues, “I want her. She’s going to be mine. You guys will see. I’ll find her and I’ll court her proper’.” 

Seokjin bites back a comment once again– Jeongguk wouldn’t know what proper courting was if it bit him in the ass, Jin knows that for a fact. All Jeongguk has ever had to go on his whole life were no more than simple stories. The plague occurred long before he had presented, certainly after many of the omegas’ had died off themselves. 

All he had were simple romance books– the details of people who he couldn’t seem to let go. Fictional events detailing alphas and omegas falling in love, alphas presenting omegas with more than they could ever hold in their hands. Jeongguk had never seen such things acted out in real life, nor had he ever had the experience to learn. 

Hell, Jeongguk has never seen an omega before. Certainly never smelled one. No wonder everyone thought this simple notion was utterly ridiculous. 

“You’ll see.” His eyes lock on the pack alpha now, the one man at the table who hadn’t said a single thing throughout the entire exchange. A silent challenge– maybe a plea to be the one to agree and support him hanging charged in the air between them. Seokjin can’t distinguish between the two, so he lets the idea hang until more evidence presents itself. 

The pack alpha shrugs, slowly lowering his glass to the table himself. Sharp cut eyes dragging up from Jeongguk’s fists until they land on his face. A simple soft tilt of his head to the side. “Do you want something from me?” 

The swallow from Jeongguk is audible, piercing as the various small conversations sprouting around them bury to a lull. Ever more interested in the display. In the lineages converging into a quiet chatter between them. Every set of ears perked, even the cicadas twittering outside drowning into silence, almost as if they were sensing a predator's motion. 

“Do you believe me, hyung?” The question is soft, almost resigned. Last flecks of hopes dancing on the edge of a cliff, hoping for something to pull him up before he jumps over the edge. 

The silence almost feels stagnant with how long it takes Namjoon to decide on his words. Seokjin almost becomes annoyed at the alpha, in all honesty. Mostly due to his inability to read him. To get inside his head like he does so easily with all his other mates. 

But Namjoon continues to dawdle, to lift his napkin from his lap, pat the corners of his lips before he gives his response. “You just have to prove it to me.” 

And though it was so little- barely anything– it was certainly more than the rest of the men had given Jeongguk that night. It was hope. A challenge. Seokjin knows Jeongguk loves a challenge. 

“I will!” The youngest is already shooting up from his seat, napkin originally placed onto his lap fluttering to the ground with little grace. A large smile crossing his bunny teeth, invigoration setting course throughout his entire body, “I’ll find her! I promise!” 

He’s already racing away from the table, his dinner left untouched. Solid, unfortunately loud, marches thundering away from the table as Taehyung sends not-so-secret glances at his plate, already having finished Jimin’s meal. 

Seokjin finally snaps his head to the side, eyeing Namjoon with a soft glare. Not testing, just.. cautious. “Are you sure that's a good idea?” Though again, the pack alpha only shrugs. Resuming his meal like the disturbance hadn’t occurred at all. 

“Let the kid believe what he wants to.” A spoonful of parfait is lowered onto his tongue, “It doesn’t impact us in any way. He needs the distraction.” 

Hoseok groans loudly, his body leaning against the back of his chair. Both arms spreading out, resting on the crests on those of either side of him. One leg kicking over the other, as if the tension had finally left his body with the displacement of Jeongguk out of the room. 

Maybe the scent had been getting to him.

“Still,” Hoseok grunts, his tone lower to something almost conspiratorial. The rest of the men being able to hear, still, though it’s clear the message is only meant for Namjoon and Seokjin, “It could become an issue. You know how fixated he gets on this type of shit. He’s going to get himself fucked up going and doing something stupid.” 

The nod of Seokjin’s head is immediate, “He’s young.” 

“He isn’t stupid though.” It’s Jimin’s voice that pipes up, the sound having several heads swivel in his direction. He looks more troubled than before, with a finger between his teeth and Taehyung’s arm drooped around his shoulders in a comforting manner. 

Hoseok’s eyebrow raises, foot freezing its mindless kicks in the air, “You think he’s telling the truth?” 

“What? No.” Jimin shakes his head, suddenly not fond of the attention as his form retreats in on himself just a bit more. Quickly adding, “Free omegas don’t exist anymore. They haven’t for like, 10 years. What Gguk said is bull.” 

Seokjin doesn’t miss the glance Hoseok and Namjoon share between themselves. His eyebrow twitches, along with a vein in his neck. Seems like they don’t tell Seokjin everything. 

“Could it have just been… y’know…an omega after they turned?” Jimin’s comments are quieter now, retreated. More inwards on himself, maybe to Taehyung as the younger pulls him closer to his chest. Like the words leaving his lips hurt him more than he should. “Still… fresh?” 

Unlikely. Though Seokjin doesn’t comment. He rather not explain why he would know in the first place. 

“Nah, he definitely would have been able to smell them if they turned.” Hoseok shakes his head. 

Namjoon nods in agreement, “They’re all rot.”

“He could have hallucinated it… I mean, he’s never seen an omega before… what if he just thought she was… y’know…” The concern in Jimin’s voice is palpable, his scent now souring for a different reason. Taehyung’s own trying to aid it. “Like he went a little crazy seeing what used to be an omega, and got a little… stupid over it.” 

“Jeongguk is smart. You said so yourself.” The baritone of the pack alpha settles over the group, recuperating them after the idea Jimin had just let slip. A glance over to Seokjin letting him know that now is the time to speak. To comfort one of the younger members like a good pack beta should do.

So, Seokjin does. 

“Min-ah~” Seokjin sends a soft smile his way, letting his own calming scent begin to steep the air. “You’re so sweet to worry about your dongsaeng, aren’t you? But ahh– don’t be so nervous, okay?” 

“He probably just saw a rogue beta and got confused.” He hums, letting his fingers tap the table. Ignoring the drag of Yoongi’s chair as he stands, excusing himself without the pack alphas permission. Trotting along down the hall, lighter flicking on and off, still. “Like you said, he’s never seen an omega before. And he gets a little stupid when he gets determined like that. That’s probably all it is. There's no reason to be so worried, okay?” 

Jimin seems a little content at that, though remains in place with Taehyung. Nose twitching as it sniffs the air every once and awhile. Jimin had always liked to keep his mates close. Head nodding in agreement with Seokjin’s words. 

“It’s nothing to be concerned with now.” Namjoon nods, a soft tap on Seokjin’s inner thigh drawing his attention towards the pack alpha. “Why don’t you go check on him? Make sure he doesn’t do anything rash.” 

And as much as Seokjin doesn’t want to listen to the youngest whine about his lost love for the rest of the night, he nods his head all the same. A command is a command, no matter how subtle it may be. 

Standing with a placid smile on his lips, kissing the top of the pack alpha’s head along the way, Seokjin sets out to find whatever mess Jeongguk had already found himself in. The determined expression on his face couldn’t have been anywhere near good– not with his track record. 

“Of course, we don’t need him blowing up my office again.” A small chuckle leaves his lips as he tucks his chair under the table. Hands folding into his pockets as he begins to walk away. 

As much as he hates it, he still has a role to play. 

These days, Yoongi finds it difficult to be at home for a multitude of reasons. 

He first is obvious– Jeongguk. For the past three months, Jeongguk has not shut about this stupid fucking mystery omega for more than 5 minutes before spouting off about her again. Always blabbering on about where she could be, what she might be doing. Drawing pictures of her that Yoongi refuses to look at– even getting Taehyung involved in whatever thoughts he’s brewing up. 

It’s annoying. It's draining. 

It's ridiculously difficult to listen to, especially with his impending rut. The second of his difficulties regarding being at home. 

Whenever his rut ticks down on the calendar, he always feels the need to get out. To run away from everything and just disappear for a bit. To just get out the perfectly constructed life he normally enjoys. A safe life the rest of the year, save for when his rut clutches at the corners of his mind.

Of course that’s more difficult with a pack around, to get away that is. With one of them always around, watching him everywhere he goes. Though, it’s even more difficult to manage a rut with a kid talking about an omega. Makes his inner alpha, one that is normally more reserved and complacent, come pacing around just a bit. 

Pacing, pacing. Urging him to do the same. 

God, he really wants a cig right now. 

His cravings always get worse around his rut, and that couldn’t be even more true now. Even with his promises to the youngest of the pack, and the memory of them flushing all of them down the toilet months ago still fresh in his mind, it still doesn’t stop the itch at the base of his neck from wanting one. From his habitual movements towards his lighter growing ever more insistent. 

It is the combination of those three factors that led him to where he is today. Trailing through the outskirts of some town he doesn’t know the name of, kicking rubble with his boots as he walks leisurely through. Lollipop stuck in the corner of his mouth as he contemplates for the thousandth time dipping into one of the nearby stores and checking for a pack.

The likelihood of there being one is pretty high– sure, Jimin and Taehyung made sure to go to all the towns close enough to their pack house and destroy any cigs remaining, but he doubts they went this far. Even though it was still within their territory, it took more than enough hours to drive here. They probably thought Yoongi would have been too lazy to make it all the way out. 

They weren’t wrong. But today… Today he just really needed a little break from everything. 

It wasn’t too hard to slip away from them, not with everything going on. Seokjin is always in his office, Namjoon and Hoseok having left on a business trip a few days back. Jeongguk and Taehyung went on their normal surveying duties, leaving only Jimin for Yoongi to dodge. 

Now, normally Yoongi would’ve just fucked the alpha to get him soft and complacent so he could slip out the backdoor, but at the risk of triggering his rut– something due in only a week– he figured an alternative that would work the same. He had planned on giving Jimin the video game he had scavenged on his birthday, but desperate times or something like that. 

With Jimin planted in front of the tv, staff bringing him snacks, it was simple for Yoongi to leave. To pop a few scent suppressants on his tongue just as he always did when going out, before climbing into one of the pack’s cars. Taking it for a spin until the compound was nothing but a distant thought in the back of his mind. 

Nothing but him and the open air, sweet candy on his tongue to match. The slow aching bitter cold of autumn settling into his cheeks as they tinge with red. Seokjin would probably scold him for not bundling up better, but that wasn’t really a concern at the moment. Hell, Seokjin probably didn’t even know he was gone. 

Good. 

His tongue rolls his lollipop from one side of his mouth to the other as he pauses his meander. One leg kicking out in front of him slightly as he turns, eyes trailing up to the sign above him. Half broken, falling apart, but still there. “ATMT! ANY TIME, MOVIE TIME!” 

When he first found this place, he was surprised the chain had made it out this far from the bigger city. It was one of the smaller ones, that was certain. And the theatre size laid out the exact same thing. Only one theatre was inside, one Yoongi assumed was probably quite quaint, maybe even homey for a town such as this. Certainly old. The theatre still ran on reels. Maybe it was used for antique showings, before the world fell. 

Since he first found it a year ago, he had made it a personal project of sorts. Deciding to fix it up, get the projector running. At first, it was meant to be a gift to the others. A little bit of normalcy But… as time grew on Yoongi wanted to keep it just for him. 

He used to go to the movies with his parents all the time when he was younger. Took his first ever date to one of the same chain, as well. Yoongi never really was a movie buff, he couldn’t sit there an analyse the things for hours like Namjoon and Taehyung, but he enjoyed the comforting serenity of it.

He let himself be selfish. Let himself keep just this one secret for him.

Yoongi steps inside, pushing the door closed behind him as he makes it through. His hand automatically reaching for the light switch to flick it on, the room lighting up as a mock of its former glory glows under the hazy yellow. 

Getting power was easy enough. It was mostly farm country around here, so there were plenty of stores that catered to the lifestyle. A few generators were located and allocated for his goal, gas was syphoned from old stations and nearby cars. He keeps a good stock of it, even now. He checks the cans in the corner every visit he makes, almost on second instinct. Just to be sure. 

As he walks towards his theatre, his fingers skim over the counter of conjoined snack table and box office. When he first fixed up the joint, the second goal had been to get the popcorn machine working. He had, though today he wasn’t craving any. Nor had he really been intent on smelling the fake butter in the air. 

Nah, he’ll probably just watch one of the movies and head back home. Hopefully that would calm his inner alpha enough. Let him think for five seconds without someone else breathing down his neck. 

Yoongi loves them, he does. Before he met them, he always thought he would hate being in a pack. Though faced with his six members, he couldn’t be happier. He felt safe with them, protected in a world with so many uncertainties. But sometimes, especially with so many other alphas in the house, he really just needs to get out.

He heads into the employee entrance easily, climbing the small set of stairs to the projection room. His hand fisting up his sleeve once he enters the space, eyebrows creasing as he sees the dust that had accumulated. 

It has been a pretty long time since he had been here, huh? 

Automatically, his hand moves to wipe away the fluff. He was lucky how many tapes were still salvageable when he found the place, he wasn’t intent on letting anymore sour with age. Cleaning them automatically with somewhat rushed, maybe a little annoyed, care. Only once clean did he select a movie– an old film he had watched time and time again. 

He picks it up, carrying it over to the projector. The most difficult thing to fix up, no doubt. It took him weeks– months, probably– to figure out how it worked and why it wasn’t doing what it was supposed to. Manuals upon manuals stacked up into the corner, spilling onto the floor. Replacement parts scattered around to match. Maybe a few to many cigarette stubs in the corner when he had grown frustrated with the whole thing.

But he still prevailed. He still managed. And when he had figured it out? He was sure it had to be one of the best days of his life. 

Now, slipping in the roll of film was easy, getting it started up all the same. He has confidence in his craftsmanship. He knows it will work, it has plenty of times before. 

Only after it flicks to life in the darkened theatre below does he descend the stairs back down. Candy moving back and forth from cheek to cheek as his hands shove themselves back into his pockets, his index finger scratching at his thumb. 

Another habit the younger guys don’t like him doing, but one he lets himself have anyway. 

Yoongi sits near the back of the theatre just in time for the title to flick across the taped together screen. His position doesn’t matter much, most of the seats are on level ground, but it’s the spot he would’ve chosen if the world were still right. So he lets himself have it. 

Fucked up world, but he still gets to be right. 

It’s around halfway through the movie when he first hears it– his lollipop long gone, his attentions turned to the edges around his thumb's cuticle instead. The rev of an engine in the distance. Tires fucking screeching far away drawing him away from the film and into the grating sounds of the present. 

His eyes drift towards the emergency exit by the screen. Probably just some random group of kids who got bored, or that wanted to take a chance at looting to gain some supplies. Not his problem– there isn’t anything that important to take all the way out here, anyway.  

He stays planted. 

Though, for some reason he can’t remove his eyes from the emergency exit door. 

Weird. 

He tilt his head, slowly raising to a stand as the grinding pulls distantly closer. His hands shoving themselves into his pockets once more, his legs slowly carrying him towards the door.

It wouldn’t hurt to check it out, anyway. He is part of the head pack, after all. He does have some sort of duty to maintain territory lines, so it’s probably important that he makes sure the car at least belongs to a group who had pledged their allegiance to his own. That’s what any good pack member would do. 

Internally, Yoongi rolls his eyes at the thought. That’s some type of bullshit Seokjin would probably spout off, maybe Hoseok or Jeongguk, too. He doesn’t care about the territory lines, or potential threats that could be permeating his border. No, he’s simply curious about who could be causing a raucous, who could be disturbing his movie. His alone time. His time in peace.

If he yelled at them to keep the racket down, would be be accused of being an old man again?

The engine drives ever closer, and he finds himself pushing open the emergency exit door. Of course, no blaring alarm sounds off– those things were cut ages ago. But what he does see, it sends alarm through his spine for another reason, though he isn’t entirely sure why.

Sprinting down the street in front of him, he sees a girl. A backpack swinging behind her with every tread against the dirt covered pavement. Her body flushed with the effort of running, though still managing to out manouver whatever thing trails behind. 

In the distance Yoongi sees it, a cheaply detailed armoured Jeep barreling down the roads. Terribly precarious driving leading it to ram into whatever's in its way rather than moving around it. Trash cans, mail boxes. Debris.

They have confidence in the thing, even though they shouldn't. 

What they also shouldn’t have confidence in? Their fucking aim. Its shit. Absolute fucking shit as they miss every single bullet they attempt to send flying at the girl. Attempt is even a graceful word itself, its more so just absolutely pathetic.

Yoongi can’t help the scoff that leaves him at the sight. Truly a disgrace. Utterly embarrassing. 

Even more so that Yoongi recognises them. Unfortunately knows that vehicle even though he rarely takes interest in the politics of the new world. He doesn’t know their name, much about them in general. Only that they were recently incorporated to be an ally pack to his own. Something Hoseok and Namjoon hardly wanted to allow cause they were barely such a thing– yadda yadda, put a bad taste in their mouth or whatever. 

They barely passed the cut. And now here they were, being complete dickwads on pack territory. Fucking humiliating. Fucking trash.

If they’re going to have a moving target, they should at least be decent enough to hit it. 

He rolls his eyes, turning to head back into the building. The door slowly closing behind him. 

This isn’t his problem. He doesn’t want it to be. Fucking idiotic children doing stupid idiotic things where they don’t think they can get caught. At least they were smart enough to do whatever it is that they’re doing this far away from any compounds. They’ll be annoying for a little, but eventually they’ll probably catch who they’re chasing and it won’t be his problem any–

“Fucking get in here before you get yourself killed!” Why does Yoongi hear his voice talking?

It shocks him more than anyone else– especially more than the girl whose face opens up in surprise at the voice her way. One second, he was heading back inside towards his seat, the next he felt the biting breeze on his cheeks as he pushed the door open again. 

This isn’t any of his business. He stays out of things that don’t concern him, much less the life of a single stranger. He’s turned his head easily at things much more horrendous than this. Done things worse than what the measly pack were doing to the girl now. 

For all he knew, you were some sort of criminal. Stole something from them and they were just enacting much deserved revenge. Maybe you did something to a member or their pack, or maybe you were someone they kidnapped from another nearby group to use as a political pawn. 

No matter what you were, it didn’t matter. So why the fuck was he screaming at you to come inside? Why was he trying to save you?

Did his inner alpha do it? Did the quiet thing in the back of his head force him to act when it normally never gives it’s input? Maybe his rut had him acting out of the norm? Or was it something to do with pack pride? That this was happening on his packs territory without their knowledge or permission?

Lots of options that Yoongi cycles through, but in truth, he just doesn’t know. He does things ‘cause he’s a little selfish, because he wants to. And normally, there’s no greater reason other than that, at least not one he can figure out. 

Yeah. He called cause he wanted to. That’s it. 

There’s no bigger scheme. Just human desires and instinct.

He watches your quick motions as you spot him– the widening of your eyes, the two checks you enact behind your back as the jeep gets closer and closer. Probably debating your options between certain death and only potential death. One man in a room versus a whole car full with guns. 

The decision is a clear one. 

Your legs picks up speed as you barrel towards him, apparently having a lot more life left in you than Yoongi thought. Giving your last kick of energy as he pushes the door open further for you, the jeep less than a block away now. The shots getting closer to your form. 

He feels the wind past him as you bolt inside, tumbling slightly as you miss a step, though regaining balance before you run deeper within the theatre. Probably looking for new shelter from him– that would be the smart thing to do.

He watches you retreat into the darkened room, only the glow of the film playing reflecting light on your form as you squirrel away. The shout of an annoying ass voice pulling his attention back outside, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?! She was ours!” 

The jeep grinds to a halt outside of the door. Guns idiotically lowered in favour of growling at whoever stopped their chase. Though, the admonishment doesn’t last long. Not when Yoongi gives one long look at the man who hangs out of the sunroof of the car. 

“Fuck.” Recognition is clear on their face, their hand slapping against the roof of the car. “Fuck! Go! Go!”

Yoongi hears a muffled “What?” From the drivers seat as the man ducks down inside of the cabin, clearly distressed. Clearly anxious from the sight of him alone.

“It’s fucking Min Yoongi! Go!” 

With no more of an utter of his name, the car is peeling out much the same way it tumbled in. The emergency exit door finally closing with a finality as the Jeep vanishes in the distance. Funny, how much his pack is worth in a worthless world. 

He tilts his head in the direction of his car, then to his pistol holstered inside of his pants. Then to his leg. A thought brewing in his mind of how to get you not so scared of him concocting itself in place. 

No. Too stupid to execute. Why would he even want to?

Yoongi makes sure the door is secure, just to ensure no rats decide to crawl in unaccounted for. He doubts that they would, but just to be safe something in him finds it necessary. Now that they know this is his turf, he knows no one would come around anytime soon. 

His pace back to his seat isn’t rushed. He isn’t sure where you had run off to, but it’s not like it’s a big issue, not really. You could leave now for all he cares. He doesn’t even know why he saved you in the first place. 

He sits back down in his chair, the same one as before. Eyes turned back to the screen, acting as though he’s watching it without a care in the world while his attention is certainly focused on other things. His nose twitching, trying to catch any scent– not a strong one detected, but certainly there. 

Medicinal. Beta-like. Familiar.

The sight of metal out of the corner of his eye is obvious. A gun trained on his figure while you keep yourself tucked in the corner to his far right. Just a bit behind, keeping yourself in the back of the theatre, but still close enough to have a direct shot. Obviously not expecting him to have gone to the seat that he had chosen, if the sound of your breathing is anything to go by.

It’s still loud, heavy as you try to regain your breath. Any other time, he might have found the sound annoying– something to interfere with his alone time but now… he doesn’t particularly. 

Wonder why.

“One way to say 'thanks for saving my ass', I guess.” He rolls his eyes, giving a little shrug as he moves to face you. Noticing the way your breath halts at the movement, realising your cover wasn’t cover at all. 

There is no real hiding places in a theatre room like this, Yoongi doesn’t understand why you even tried. But he doesn’t fault you for it. 

You lift your gun higher, re-situating it. Trying to look opposing though you’re mostly curled in on yourself. “What–” You clear your throat, forcing it to be stable. To not shake with the exertion your body had just undergone, “What do you want?” 

That is the question, and the answer is unfulfilling on his tongue. He doesn’t know. But the alpha in him, the one that never comes out save for times like these close to his rut, doesn’t like seeing you scared. You’re clearly not a threat. There was no clear reason why those guys had been chasing you, not to mention his distaste for them. So that's why, probably. 

He only shrugs, slowly moving from the seat to the floor as if to show you that he isn't something to be scared of. Hands raised in the air as you become on high alert even at the most subtle movements. “Relax– Relax. I’m not doing anything.” 

It’s not a command, just a placating statement. His eyes kept down, his throat tilted to the side just an inch to try and get your head out of survival mode. His hand reaching for his gun before placing it on the ground, sliding it in your direction. 

You look back and forth between him and the metal, eyebrows furrowed, “The fuck did you do that for?” 

His shoulders move again– he really doesn’t know. He’s just doing, not thinking much about the potential outcomes. Following his instinct, doing what he wants just like always. 

Selfish. Even if he doesn’t know why. 

Realistically, even if he were to analyse the situation, he doubts your gun has any bullets left. If it did, you would’ve put more of a fight up back there. He could take you, regardless if you were armed and he wasn’t, anyway. 

“So you’d see I’m not a threat.”  His tone is smooth, maybe a little cracked from not having water all day, but that's the cadence he’s used to. Again, he doesn’t know why such a fact is true, but it is. Maybe its cause he thinks your cute. Maybe something like that, something he’s unwilling to admit. 

You jerk your gun up once again. “How do I know that’s not the only one you have?” You bark, his form crossing his legs in front of him, resting his weight against his arms as he leans back just slightly.

“You don’t, I guess.” He hums, dull fingernails tapping the once sticky floors– floors he spent too long cleaning, mind you. “But I don’t. I have an AK near the entrance, but I don’t really feel like grabbing that right now. Too much work.” 

“And it’s less work to have a stranger holding a gun to your head?”

He waves his hand in the air, “Something like that.” 

Silence hangs in the space between himself and you. His head staying down, though his eyes continue to peak up to watch you move. The expressions that cross your face as you remain conflicted over his words. 

The exasperated sigh that brakes it is something else. One hand leaving your gun to scrub at your face, maybe in an attempt to remove something from your head. “Why did you save me?” 

“Full of questions, aren’t you?” Yoongi snorts, one of his feet twitching. He probably should feel cornered, though he doesn’t. 

“It’s not every day I get chased down by a fucking pack and a strange beta saves me with no regard to his own life.” Yoongi tilts his head back and forth, lower lip pushing out just a little. 

“Touché.” He pauses, glancing at the ceiling. He already knows he’s not going to think about it any harder, so he doesn’t even consider it. “I just felt like it.” 

The scoff in your tone almost sounds louder than a gun, “Bullshit.” 

And again, the only answer he seems to be able to have is a shrug. “Whatever stupid shit you want to think instead is fine by me. You’re the one who interrupted my movie.” His chin juts in the direction of the screen, though your focus remains on him instead. 

“You’re…” You hesitate, voice growing just a bit softer as your nose twitches. As something akin to recognition lights up just beyond your eyes. Your gun slowly lowering as something washes over you, the motion only accentuated by the shake of your head. “You make no sense.” 

Yoongi only realises then how pretty your voice sounds. A little scratchy around the edges still from exercise, but pretty none the less. Something he could listen to for a long time, probably. Certainly longer than all of the men in the house. 

The sound of metal against floor is what draws him out of the gentle stupor he found himself in. His head tilting, eyebrows raising in surprise at the gun now sitting in the centre of the room, right next to his own. 

Now that was certainly unexpected. 

“Thanks. I guess.” Without your defenses, you curl in on yourself more. Your arms wrapping around your knees as you lean your head against the wall, eyes on the screen now rather than on him. For some reason feeling a sense of safety in him, though he has no clue how or why. “They probably would have killed me if they caught me.” 

He would ask why, but in all honest he doesn’t really care. Answers aren’t normally things you want, but things you receive none the less. Instead, he turns his own body away from yours, direction his attention to the screen himself. 

“Assholes are probably still out there. We should be safe in here, though.” Another lie he finds himself telling, unaccustomed as to why. Spouting it off into the air just because he feels like it, and maybe because he wants you to stay. Settling into silence with two guns between your bodies. 

“Why were you all the way out here?” It’s Yoongi that finally breaks the lull, credits now rolling across the screen. The safety of silence rocking into something else when Yoongi can’t stand the notion of doing nothing any longer. His skin feeling a little too tight around his body as he sits for so long. As he kept finding his gaze drifting to you throughout the entire sequence of events playing across the screen.

At the question, you startle slightly. Clearly not expecting it as your spine stiffens, before slowly relaxing back against the wall. A little chuff leaving your lips, a shake of your head. “Why do you want to know? Is this your packs territory or something?”

Oh. So you’re not associated with his pack. Or any other pack in the general area if you don't know something as simple as territory lines. You were rogue, then. On your own. For how long?

“No.” He shakes his head, the lie sounding better than the truth. With such an esteemed name, maybe it’s better to keep it wrapped up tight. Maybe he doesn’t want you to be afraid of him just because of who he considers family. He doesn’t know how you’d respond to the news of him being apart of something greater– especially when you’re lone like this. 

“This is my space.” He motions to the room around him absently. 

You scoff, and the sound is certainly cuter than before. “Yeah, I gathered that.” 

“Still waiting for your complements on it.” He can’t help the pull to the corner of his lips, the slight smiling coming into place. “I come here a lot. There’s not much around here other than farm. So, I was just wondering.” 

He sees the white of your teeth poke out from your mouth, pulling your bottom lip into their snare. Chewing the skin as you consider your words– on revealing information you might not want Yoongi to know. 

“I get a question, you get a question.” Your eyes slowly drag upwards to meet his face. “We’re both not allowed to lie.” 

Yoongi tests your words on his tongue, his head tilting back and forth as he acts like he’s considering. He already has his answer, and he certainly has to qualms about lying regardless but… just what made you have so much trust in him that he wouldn’t? He just did so straight to your face without breaking a sweat but now… now as he really looks at you… 

He can’t deny how pretty you are, for starters. Of course, it’s a fact that seems just as true as the sun rising in the sky every day. But your eyes staring up at him, so hopeful– somehow trusting though the two of you only just met… it sends something inside of him clattering around. 

If you look at him like that… He doesn’t like the inner voice that tells him he’s agree to anything you’d ask.

Are his cheeks turning pink?

He looks away, coughing. Clearing his throat– he’s entirely unaffected. Seems like both you and him have questions you want answered. That’s all that Yoongi surmises. “Deal.” 

After a second, you clear your throat as well, assumedly turning your head back to the screen that only glows white– the reel finally having finished running its course. “Right.” He hears skin slapping skin– are you patting your cheeks for encouragement? “You can’t laugh.” 

One of Yoongi’s eyebrows arches in a raise, his gaze flicking to you only out of the corner of his eye. He catches you there, looking back at him. Taking the expression itself for an answer. 

“I… have a chicken. Her name is Cheryl. ” You’re careful with your words, like its meant to be a secret, or maybe just worried about revealing too much. “A flock of wild chickens moved out into the– nearby where I live. She got herself a boyfriend. Or girlfriend. She hasn’t introduced me yet.” 

… Now, if it was any of his packmates telling him this, he’d call them crazy. But something about that fond expression on your face as you stare at the screen he worked hard on taping back together… he’s not sure. He might feel something else that he hasn’t in a long time. “So she’s been spending more time outside and got herself bumblefoot. I came to get meds to help fix it 'cause I ran out.” 

Even in the dim lighting, he can see your cheeks tinged with heat. At your embarrassment about going on about a chicken for so long. He can’t help but snort at it. Feel something akin to fondness for you in himself. 

Your eyes open wide as you hear the sound, head instantly twisting to look back at him, “I didn’t need to say all of that, did I?” 

“Nope.” He’s smiling, gums and all. He can’t really help it.

He can see a smile crack in the corner of your own lips, as well. “I sound crazy talking about a chicken, don’t I?” 

“Yeah.” He shakes his head, letting it lean on the chair behind him, “But I’m glad I know about a chickens intimate life in detail, now. Really spared no expense on the narration– I’m terrible at story telling, so don’t get offended when my answers are shit.” 

Another soft snort leaves him– what kind of character did Yoongi bring into his life today? An odd one, that's for sure. A cute odd beta that smells a little familiar, though he can’t place his finger on why. 

His ears perk as a soft sound leaves your own lips. Something soft, gentle. An almost-laugh of your own at his joke and this time he’s sure his cheeks are turning pink.

“I don’t expect you too.” Hazarding a glance, he can see you’re smiling now too, looking p at the same ceiling he is. “Sorry. I just like talking about her.”

Silence hangs in the air for awhile, Yoongi lets it. Lets the sound of the projector flickering, along with the sounds of your breathing to fill his eardrums for longer than he would normally allow. 

“It’s your turn.” He simply hums, a soft reminder. 

“What?” A smile lilts up his lips once more– you actually forgot. Cute.

“Your turn to ask a question.” He can’t stop the expression from growing, or from being able to tease you. “You forgot all ready, roadkill?”

You gasp a little at that– indigent at the nickname, Yoongi presumes. But he thinks its cute. It’s what you would have been if he wasn’t there, anyway. “I didn’t!” You did, though. 

“Right.” He shakes his head. “What did you want to know?” 

He hears you shuffling about in your place for a moment. Maybe getting comfortable, maybe trying to worse up the courage to ask what you've had on your mind. “Do you think they’re still out there?”

No lying. He listens to that request, now. “No. I think they probably went on to find something else better.” 

“Oh.” The soft sound of your voice has him wanting to do everything in his power to make you stay, “Then I should probably head out.” 

Yoongi’s eyes widen as you stand. Leave? You’re leaving? He doesn’t like the way that sounds. Doesn’t like the way it settles in his chest one bit. 

He’s following your movements, acting as a mirror to your own as he rises all the same. Moves to the center of the room where you reach for your gun, his wrist coming to stop you. To grab your own before you’re able to finish. 

Your eyes look up at him, a crinkle in your brow, “What are you–” 

“It’s still not safe out there.” He adds, not understanding his words or actions, but obeying them all the same.

It's then that he takes in your size compared to his own– smaller than him even if your size is typical for a beta. It feels nice, refreshing. He’s always been the shortest in his own pack. He could even be considered the same height as the tallest of betas so… so having you here, feeling the size of your wrist in his grip… it does something to him.

“What do you mean?” If you try to pull away from him, he doesn’t notice. His brain working on all the reasons to make you stay with him just for the night instead.

God. His rut has him acting so stupid. 

“The creatures, they come into town at night. The sun is setting now.” He explains, letting the words come out without thinking them through, “You’re out of bullets.”

A sharp little inhale is all he needs to confirm his earlier suspicions. Your soft voice exhaling the truth, “You knew…” 

Of course he did. 

“Stay here. Just for the night.” He drops your wrist, letting it fall back to your side. “I’m leaving in the morning, anyway.” 

You take a small step back. “I don’t… that isn’t a good idea.” 

Why isn’t it? Do you not think you’re safe with him? 

“I can promise you that nothing will happen to you here.” He takes a few steps back, making sure to give you space. “I don’t– I don’t want to see you dead.” 

You look conflicted– anyone would be. That isn’t shocking in the slightest. Not to Yoongi. What is, however, is the determined expression you take as you step forward towards him. Your little pinky reaching outwards in his direction. “Not lying?” 

Yoongi swallows, his eyes tracing over your expression. No lying except for a few white ones, of course. 

“Not lying.” He steps forward himself, locking pinkies with your own. Letting his voice drop low, so that it isn’t anymore than a whisper, “Please. Stay.” He can tell you need a little more. Just the smallest bit to get whatever nagging voice in your conscious to go away for sure. 

He turns on the works. His voice husky, reserved as he speaks. “I haven’t… It’s been a long time since I met someone who made me feel like this.” The words are completely out of character for him, but it’s not like a stranger such as yourself would know that. 

“I… me too.” Slowly, you answer. Your eyes lighting up like there was some sort of final confirmation in his words. Like they took on an entirely different shape to yourself, “It’s been a long time since I met someone like us, too.” 

Now, Yoongi isn’t sure what you mean by 'someone like us', but he doesn’t question it. Doesn’t look for secret meanings or hidden agendas– he never does. That’s Seokjin’s job. All he does is take your words at face value, placated somewhat internally now that he has your word that you’ll be staying. That he can keep you safe, even if its just for the night. 

Once again, he finds silence hanging between your figures. Your gazes trapezing between each of his features, scanning him. Maybe making sure you remember him right. That’s what he’s doing, at least. Looking down at you, at the colour of your eyes and the slope of your nose. 

A soft smile crosses his lips as he decides to break it, wanting to see heat rise to your cheeks once again. “My turn for a question, huh?” 

He has to say, it was worth it. Your jump backwards is practically comical. Along with your hands that raise to pat against your cheeks. Another small chuckle leaving him as he confirms his earlier assumption over your actions. 

“Yeah, I guess. Whatever.” He follows your actions, another mirror copy as he trudges back towards his own seat. You finding your own along with your backpack, still in the back corner of the theatre. “It’s only fair.” Though you say the words, the little ‘humph’ in your voice is clear. 

As he leans back against the floor, his question is a simple one– well, one he thinks is. “What’s your name?” 

You shake your head, “No names. It’s easier.” A muffle as your pull your legs up above your chin again, “We won’t know each other by tomorrow anyway, so it doesn’t matter.”

Sounds like you’ve lost more people than you can count. 

He shrugs, “Yeah. Fair enough. I wasn’t going to tell you mine, anyway.” Who knows, even if you don’t know his face, or his territory claims, you might still know the name. 

The little snort from your nose is cute, “Kind of a waste of a question then, isn’t it?” 

“Maybe. But I still wanted to try.”

“Maybe.” You hum, and Yoongi finds himself wanting to hear the sound a lot more often than he should.

“Why…” You try to pull your legs up higher, willing yourself to speak once more, “Why do you cover up your scent?” 

He feels his frame freeze. All the muscles in his back going rigid. His hands, once idly playing with a pillow he had dragged to the ground earlier coming to a complete halt as his brain processes your words. 

How would you know he was wearing suppressants? 

Back in the day, sure. You could always tell when someone was wearing them, sure. But the commonality of them had worn away with time, along with most peoples memory of what they smelled like. No one should know he’s wearing them, no one ever does anymore.

Unless you’re wearing them, too. 

Unless you’re so intertwined with the scent of them on your own skin, that you’d be able to tell when they leeched onto someone else's. There was a reason he thought you had smelled so familiar, and now he's more than privy to know why. 

You’re an alpha, too? Why the hell are you wearing them?

If there was any shock in his expression, he schools it away. Shrugging his shoulders, leaning back like he didn’t just understand a mountain more than he thought previous, however left with thousands of more questions. 

“Don’t want to be found.” The answer is simple enough– believable, a half truth. With the nod of your head in agreement, it seems like the right one, too. 

“It’s easier when people don’t know what you are. Safer.” This time, it’s Yoongi that nods his head. Maybe your rut is coming, as well? That would make sense. Might be why the pack was chasing you earlier, too. 

Yeah. Yeah. That adds up. 

“Yeah.” He sniffles slightly, one of his fingers rubbing under his nose. His figure raising to stand– he needs to change the subject. “You like old movies?” 

Your soft smile makes something tumble in his stomach, your gentle tease does all the same, “Waste of your question, don’t you think?” 

He shakes his head, unable to stop a reflection of your smile across his own lips. “I need to know what to put on, don’t I?” 

“Hmm…” He sees your profile again, your face turning back to the screen, “Anything is fine. I don’t know many movies.” 

He turns his back, shoving his hands in his pockets, ready to move up to the projection room when your voice cuts him off once more, “Why were you in town today?”

Right. It’s your turn for a question. He kicks one of his feet, an all-too gummy smile lighting up his face as he looks at the floor. The three youngest's faces coming up in his mind.

“Ah. Cigs.” He shakes his head, “Fucked up on that, though.” 

With a soft chuckle, Yoongi heads for the projection room, leaving you to wait and see whatever he has in store. 

When Yoongi wakes up the next morning, he isn’t sure what he expected. 

For you to be gone? Yes. For you to have let him sleep through the whole night? Maybe. The bandana wrapped box in front of him, little crinkled note on the top? Certainly not. 

Last night… last night was fun. It was nice. Easy. 

For some reason, your company didn’t feel suffocating like being at the pack house might have been for how restless he normally gets during these times. It felt soft. Gentle, even. Good company kept while a movie played on the screen, one Yoongi has seen a million times before. 

After he put it on, the questions had puttered out easily. Comments on the movie rearing up every once and awhile instead. Your eyes bright as you watched the story unfold on the screen with attention you certainly did not hold during the first screening of the night.

It made Yoongi wonder if you had ever seen something like this before. If you had ever gone to a movie theatre like this one. Made him almost feel like it was a date between the two of you. Like the rest of the world didn’t exist. 

Of course, that wasn’t true. There were still at least 2 rows of chairs between your bodies, and Yoongi had a pack to go back to at home, but still. Still he couldn’t deny the way his eyes kept moving back to your form, or the way he kept making jokes at the across expenses just to try and get you to laugh.

It was all a little… surreal. Yeah. He’ll just put it that way. Like you were a little reality he could slip away to that didn’t involve the rest of the fucked up world surrounding him. 

When he offered to take first watch, you had shaken your head. Making sure you would be the one to take he duty instead. He knew what would happen, then. That you would probably be gone before he even woke up, but he still let you all the same. Knowing that he couldn’t press it, not really. You were still a little flighty. Looked towards the exits more times than he could count.

So, he let you. Curled himself up on his side as the movie continued to play its course, let himself fall asleep hoping he would at least get to say goodbye.

He didn’t. That was for sure. Annoying, yeah. But he couldn’t really find it in himself to get upset. Not when just being in your presence allowed him the best sleep of his life. 

Now though, now he wishes he got you to stay. Wishes he could play a whole ‘nother round of your ‘questions game’. Thousands of thoughts flying through his mind as he stares at the boxes he just unwrapped, white bandana laying useless in his lap from where he pulled it off.

Scent suppressants. Heat suppressants. 

Three months worth. 

He pulls the note up next, confusion twisting between his brows. Why would you give these to him? He’s sure he could find plenty around if he looked. Not to mention, what would you be doing carrying around such a large supply? He feels stumped. 

“Us omegas have to stick together. – Roadkill” His eyes scan over the words countless times, though his brain is still somehow unable to process.

Us. Omegas. 

Us as in we. As in Yoongi and yourself. As in you’re an omega. As in, you thought he was one, too. 

He stares at the pile in front of him, the pieces slowly clicking together in his mind.

He had gotten everything wrong.

You weren’t covering your scent for the same reasons as him. You weren’t an alpha. You were an omega. An omega living out alone, somewhere in the world. One of the last omegas alive was right in front of him, only hours before. And now you were gone. 

Jeongguk had been right. 

“Fuck.” The sound is soft as he breathes. As he continues to process why you had felt so comfortable, your reasoning behind your drop in guard had been because you thought he was the same. Because of his height, because of his demeanor, his use of suppressants himself– he isn’t sure. But you had trusted him. You felt safe.

One of the last omegas alive had felt safe with him, even if the pretenses themselves were false.

You had felt safe with him. 

Shit– he feels another pang in his gut. The realisation practically sends all of his senses into overdrive. Makes him all-too aware of every little thing around him, everything that your scent still clings onto. 

His expression falls to his laps once more, eyes pin-holing in on the bandana still in his lap. Irises twitching all across the fabric as he takes it in. Letting himself feel everything now, because later he already knows he’ll act entirely unaffected. 

Slowly, with shaky hands, he lifts the fabric to his nose. Thinking, considering without a single thought running through his head in the slightest. His arms automatically lifting it to his nose, attempting to catch any whiff of your scent that remains. 

Medicinal. 

Beta. 

You. 

Fake you, but still you.

His jaw clenches, unclenches. His arms forcing the fabric away from his face. He could chase you. Run out there and find you, but you’re gone by now. You have to be. He doesn’t know when you left, nor can he follow your trail with his nose alone. 

He shoves his alpha back into the recess of his mind, his hands working to tie the white patterned cloth around his wrist. Even if he only got one with you, one night was more than enough. 

This secret, he’ll keep for himself.

chapter 1 <- index -> chapter 3

⌬ : notes: ruh roh

lmaoooo, i know this chapter is relatively calm (except for jk, poor him ://), but the next chapter things really start to pick up!! and then the next, and the next-- ah, through writing this fic I've really learned I love action-centric plots. The build of everything going on!! It's really exciting for me lolol.

heheh, as always!! please let me know what you think!! and don't worry, i won't get mad if youre upset with any of the characters!! it means i'm doing my job well >:3 anyway!!! have a great day and take care of yourself!

They shared a childhood, swapping toys and creating endless adventures out of thin air. During sleepovers, they were mature enough to share a bed without fuss, laughing at the idea of one taking the floor. On school days when one left their lunch sitting on the kitchen counter, the other would split theirs without hesitation. They borrowed each other’s clothes so often that no one could remember whose was whose. When it came time for college, they applied to the same universities, and when both were accepted to the same one, they became roommates, sharing a dorm like they had shared everything else in life.

They were inseparable, always found together — so much so that when one was absent, people immediately asked, "Where’s the other?" They were two birds of a feather, yin and yang, brothers in every sense but blood.

One of the many things they shared was a deep love for tennis. It became their outlet, a way to escape the pressures of life and channel their competitive spirits. The rush of adrenaline they felt during a match was unmatched, and while they had fun playing, they took the game seriously, analyzing every serve, every backhand, every forehand with laser focus. They’d sit side by side, watching matches with an almost religious reverence, eyes glued to the ball as it zipped across the court, mouths slightly open, bodies leaning forward as if they could will the players to win.

If there was anything they loved more than each other (and their families, of course), it was tennis.

And that intense, unwavering focus they had when watching a tennis match? It was the exact way they were both watching you.

A scarlet dress clung to your body, black stilettos elevating your stature. But of course, they were red bottoms. And to top it all off, you weren’t complete without the striking shade of red on your lips.

Mingyu had found out about your upcoming tournament from fellow students at the college, along with word that there was going to be a little party on the tennis courts in honor of it. That’s how the two boys ended up there tonight. Mingyu had his eye on you ever since he caught you practicing on the courts one day. There was something about the way you moved in red, a fiery aura that stuck in his mind like a persistent dream. He couldn’t stop thinking about you.

The upbeat rhythm of a Nelly Furtado track thumped through the air — an early 2000s throwback that had everyone nodding along. Jungkook knew the song too, but if you asked him, he wouldn’t be able to tell you what it was. The music had faded into the background, drowned out by the sight of you. Everyone else was a blur, just shifting figures in his peripheral vision. His eyes, however, were locked on you, following your every movement like the moon that seems to chase you no matter how far you drive, or like the gaze of a painting that never lets go, no matter where you stand. 

His focus was relentless. He just stood there, mesmerized, as if time had slowed just for him to take you in, every detail etched into his mind. He didn’t even blink — he wasn’t about to miss a second of you. His body was rooted to the spot, eyes tracing every flicker of movement you made. Even when Mingyu nudged him in the arm, he didn’t react, completely frozen in place. He’s got it bad.

“Dude!”

Jungkook blinked, snapping out of his trance. He looked at Mingyu beside him, startled, before immediately returning his gaze to you, as if afraid you’d disappear the moment he looked away.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, distracted. “You say something?”

Your hair bounces with every move, catching the low lights of the party as your hips sway in perfect rhythm with the beat. There are plenty of people dancing, but to Jungkook, you're the only one who matters. Every gesture you make, from running your fingers through your hair to the way your body moves effortlessly with the music, leaves him entranced. Your hair falls right back into place, teasing him with how flawless it looks despite your movements. He gulps hard, his throat dry even though his mouth waters at the sight of you.

“I was going to tell you she’s over there, but looks like you found her already,” Mingyu scoffs, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Told you she was hot.”

Jungkook shakes his head in disbelief, “No kidding.”

Mingyu leans in, his lips hovering close to Jungkook’s ear. “I’d let her fuck me with a racket.”

Jungkook lets out a low snicker, rolling his eyes. Crude words like that were normal from Mingyu, but even so, it never failed to make him laugh. He’d heard worse over the years.

From across the court, you’re blissfully unaware of the way the two boys are watching you — like lost puppies, completely captivated. To anyone else, they probably look ridiculous, just standing there with wide eyes. In fact, a group of girls lounging on the cushion chairs by the side of the court had already noticed their ridiculous fixation, shooting you dirty looks, their jealousy plain as day. They’d been hoping to catch the boys’ attention, maybe even snag their numbers, but their plan had backfired since you already caught their eye.

The song fades, and you're left breathless, cheeks flushed as you tell your friends you’re going to grab a drink. They nod, barely hearing you over the music.

Jungkook watches you cross the court, eyes following your every step as you approach the drink table. He feels the weight of the moment — this is his chance. He nudges Mingyu, almost nervously.

“Should we go talk to her?” he asks, his voice low as you pick up your drink, unaware of their plotting.

Mingyu doesn’t even respond to Jungkook’s question — he just heads straight toward you. Without thinking, Jungkook follows, legs moving before he can process it. Approaching girls has never been his strong suit, and a jittery feeling builds in his stomach as nerves rise. But there’s no way he’s going to let Mingyu have you all to himself.

“Hey,” Mingyu says confidently, and your eyes flicker to him. Jungkook steps up beside him almost instantly.

“Hi,” he blurts out awkwardly.

You pull your lips off the straw, leaving a red lipstick stain behind, and Jungkook cringes internally. He feels like an idiot, convinced you must think he and Mingyu are embarrassing themselves.

“Hello,” you greet, your tone light as you swirl the straw around in your drink.

“I’m Mingyu, and this is Jungkook. We just wanted to wish you good luck for tomorrow,” Mingyu says smoothly.

“Thanks,” you giggle, clearly amused. “You two gonna be there?”

Mingyu’s eyes glint mischievously. “If I say no, will you invite us yourself?”

You raise a brow, a smirk playing on your lips. “Depends. Are you coming to watch tennis or just to watch me?”

Before Mingyu can come up with something overly flirty and blow their chance, Jungkook jumps in, his voice steady despite his nerves. “Mingyu and I have been playing since we were kids. And from what I’ve heard, you’re pretty good. We’re coming to watch some good tennis.”

Your gaze shifts to Jungkook, studying him for a moment. Mingyu, feeling the shift in attention, begins to grow envious, trying to think of a way to steer it back toward himself.

“You being pretty is just a bonus,” Mingyu adds quickly, trying to regain control of the conversation. “That’s twice the enjoyment.”

You snicker, amused by the playful banter.

Before you can respond, a friend calls out your name from across the court. “Join us when you’re done. We’re going to take Polaroids!”

You give a quick nod. “Okay, I’ll be there in a second.”

As she walks off, you turn your attention back to the two boys. “Make sure you’re there before the game starts. I’ll see you both then.”

Mingyu’s lips curl into a grin. “You don’t wanna ditch your friends and have a drink with us by the beach instead?”

You let out a playful laugh, already walking away. “Come to my match first, then maybe ask me out on a date, Mingyu.” You glance over your shoulder, throwing a teasing wave. “Bye, Jungkook.” You punctuate it with a wink before turning away fully.

Jungkook raises his hand in a dazed wave, completely spellbound, still processing the fact that you winked at him. His eyes stay glued to you as you walk toward your friends, even when you’ve blended into the group, laughing and chatting.

“Fucking hell,” Mingyu mutters under his breath, still staring at you.

Jungkook finally snaps out of his trance and turns to Mingyu. “Let me have this one?”

Mingyu shoots him a look, his voice dripping with competitiveness. “In your fucking dreams.”

“If it isn’t Thing 1 and Thing 2,” you tease as you walk up to them, a playful smirk on your lips.

It was almost amusing how obedient they were, like two loyal dogs waiting eagerly for your next command. They’d arrived before your game, just as you’d requested — 15 minutes earlier than necessary, clearly hoping to steal some extra time with you before the match.

“Little red,” Mingyu greets with a playful smirk.

You smile, warmth flickering in your chest at the nickname. “Cute,” you respond, letting the moment settle in.

Before you can say more, Jungkook cuts in, his voice hurried and a little flustered. “Just came to wish you good luck before your game,” he says, his tone soft yet sincere, eyes full of warmth.

“No, no — he came to wish you good luck,” Mingyu teases, flashing you his trademark confident grin. “I came to see what you’re doing after this,” he adds, his words dripping with flirtation.

Turning to Jungkook, you raise a brow, amused. “Does he flirt with every girl like this?”

Jungkook chuckles, shaking his head. “Pretty much.”

Mingyu places a hand on his chest in mock offense, letting out an exaggerated scoff. “I’m offended.”

You laugh softly, eyes still sparkling with mischief. “I’m just messing with you. I wasn’t actually planning on doing anything after.”

Mingyu’s eyes light up, clapping his hands together. “Perfect! How about you come to our dorm later tonight? We’ve got beer.”

The offer still lingers as you mull it over, your expression thoughtful.

Jungkook glances at Mingyu, brows furrowed. It’s not that he didn’t want you there — he did, desperately — but he worried Mingyu might push too hard and ruin it for both of them.

“Hate to break it to you, Mingyu, but whether I come or not depends on my mood — and if I win or not.”

“Oh, so you’re coming tonight,” Mingyu grins.

“Confident in me, huh?” you ask, eyebrows raised.

“Been watching you play for a while now,” Mingyu replies smoothly. “Whoever you’re up against today is going home with tears and a broken racket.”

You smile, clearly flattered. “You sure you’re inviting me over just to drink beer, stalker?”

“Guess it’ll depend on your mood after the game,” Mingyu says, mirroring your playful tone.

You pause for a second, then ask, “What’s the room number?”

“97,” Mingyu says quickly, excitement flashing in his eyes. “Be there by 8?”

"I'll think about it," you reply with a smirk, locking eyes with Mingyu in a silent exchange of flirtation. The tension between you two is thick, like neither of you is holding back, completely ignoring the fact that Jungkook is still standing there, feeling more and more like a third wheel.

Jungkook shifts awkwardly, unsure what to say, as he watches you and Mingyu practically undress each other with your eyes.

Then, someone across the court calls your name, reminding you it’s time for warm-ups.

“Duty calls,” you say, giving them both a final look. “Lucky you two — front row seats. Be my little cheerleaders.”

As you walk off, Mingyu can't help but call after you, "Be there by 8!"

Jungkook, desperate to contribute something, shouts, "Break a leg!"

You blow a playful kiss toward Jungkook, and he swears his heart drops straight to his stomach, nearly falling out of his body altogether. Both boys watch as you walk away, eyes glued to your every step until you’re completely out of sight. Then, as if waking from a daze, Jungkook snaps out of it and smacks Mingyu on the arm.

“Ow!” Mingyu yelps, rubbing the spot where he was hit.

“Why would you do that?” Jungkook hisses, his face a mix of frustration and panic.

“Do what?” Mingyu asks, genuinely confused.

“You made it sound like we wanna fuck her in the dorm!” Jungkook blurts out, voice low but sharp.

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, his tone casual. “We do wanna fuck her in the dorm.”

Jungkook stammers, “Well yeah, but… I don’t want her to think we only want her for sex.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes, clearly unfazed by Jungkook's concern. “Dude, you’re overthinking. If she didn’t want it, she wouldn’t have entertained the idea.”

“She didn’t say yes,” Jungkook mutters, more to himself than to Mingyu.

“‘I’ll think about it’ is basically a yes,” Mingyu grins, clapping Jungkook on the back. “In my book, at least.”

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek, unsure. Mingyu’s confidence might be contagious, but Jungkook wasn’t sure he liked the way things were being assumed. He wanted more with you — he just didn’t know if Mingyu understood that.

Just then, the bleachers start to fill, and the boys claim their front-row seats, buzzing with excitement. The crowd is a colorful mix — older spectators, middle-aged parents bringing along their younger children, and students around Mingyu and Jungkook’s age, all eager to catch the match.

Mingyu has watched you play many times, making frequent trips to the courts at the university ever since that first day he saw you. But for Jungkook, this is his first real glimpse of your talent.

“Is she actually good, or were you just saying that to get in her pants?” Jungkook asks, a teasing grin on his face.

Mingyu leans back, a smirk creeping onto his lips. “When I saw that backhand, I couldn’t leave the bleachers until my dick got soft again.”

Jungkook chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. Just as he’s about to respond, the referee’s voice booms through the speakers, introducing you to the crowd.

That’s when you walk out onto the court. 

Everyone erupts into a fit of cheers, but not all of them are supportive. A group of boys a few seats away is particularly aggravating, barking and whistling in a blatant display of disrespect. Mingyu feels the urge to tell them to shut the hell up — not just for your sake but for the rest of the crowd, too — but he holds back, wanting to keep the focus on you.

Red skirt, red shoes — your signature look. Just like Jungkook loves to wear everything black, you embody confidence in your vibrant red ensemble.

As you step onto the court, you give the crowd a wave, and your eyes meet Jungkook’s. You shoot him a sly wink, and his stomach flutters with that familiar tingle, the same one from last night. He straightens his back, suddenly aware that he’s sitting there with his mouth agape like a total idiot. He quickly clears his throat, trying to regain some composure.

You head toward the chairs to set your duffle bag down, the wind catching your skirt and making it flutter. The crowd cheers again, particularly loud from that group of boys. Mingyu shoots them a dirty glare, wishing they’d show some respect.

Once you and your opponent, Camila Cane, take your positions, the energy shifts. Everyone knows Camila — she’s notorious for her brash attitude and over the top confidence, thanks to her wealth. And then there’s her infamous botched lip filler, which has become a running joke among the students.

If Jungkook wasn’t excited before, he certainly is now. Not only does he want to see if you’re as good as Mingyu claimed, but he’s also eager to witness Camila get humbled. He remembers the time he accidentally bumped into her, politely apologizing, only to be met with her disdainful scoff. To which she just scoffed in disgust and told him, ‘Watch where the fuck you’re going.’

Mingyu sits beside Jungkook, his eyes glinting with mischief as he watches his best friend shift anxiously, perched at the edge of his seat. He can’t help but snicker quietly to himself, eagerly anticipating Jungkook’s reaction as the match unfolds.

“First set, Cane to serve. Ready? Play.”

The ball moves fluidly from one end of the court to the other, back and forth in an exhilarating dance. You swing your racket with precision and grace, darting around the court, keeping track of the ball’s every movement. The crowd’s heads pan side to side, captivated by the game, but Jungkook’s gaze remains fixed solely on you.

It’s as if time has frozen, echoing the enchanting moment from last night when you danced, effortlessly catching his attention. He can’t look away. In a sea of spectators, it feels like it’s just you and him, and he’s watching you in your element. It’s the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen.

You play with everything — mind, body, soul. The intensity is palpable, almost intimate, and Jungkook can’t shake the feeling that he’s witnessing something deeply personal. It’s an erotic kind of magic that makes his heart race. He knows he should look away, that he shouldn’t be so mesmerized, but he’s too captivated by the way you move, the way you feel the game. There’s a strange pleasure in watching you find pleasure in your sport.

Just as Camila lunges to hit the ball, it bounces out of her reach and rolls lazily to the wall.

“Fifteen, love!” the referee calls out.

The crowd cheers.

As you quickly redeem yourself after losing the toss, Camila’s irritation grows palpable. Jungkook can’t stand sore losers; he appreciates a player who knows how to keep fighting instead of sulking about a loss. It adds to the thrill of the game, the excitement of watching someone pour their heart and soul into every point.

You’re fully concentrated now — eyebrows knitted in determination, your form impeccable as you prepare for the next serve. Jungkook can’t help but think how attractive you look at this moment. You’ve always been beautiful — your pretty face, that captivating smile, the way your laughter dances in the air. But watching you play tennis? That’s something else entirely.

The competitiveness radiates off you. It’s not just about the game; it’s about your fierce determination to win, that fiery desire to conquer whatever challenge lies ahead. The way you move, how you chase after each shot, it all sends his heart racing. There’s something undeniably magnetic about you in this element, a raw intensity that makes him feel alive.

As he watches you — focused, relentless, and unyielding — Jungkook realizes that he might just be falling in love.

You won.

Obviously.

Just as Mingyu predicted, Camila Cane left the court with a broken racket and a trail of code violations for her verbal tirades. The victory cheers echoed in your ears as you basked in the glow of your triumph, adrenaline still coursing through your veins. 

After the tournament, you were swarmed with congratulations and eager fans, so you didn’t get a chance to seek out Mingyu or Jungkook immediately. But Mingyu had every intention of congratulating you later that night. Jungkook, however, was skeptical, his mind racing with doubt over whether you’d actually show up at their door.

“Dude, she’s not coming,” Jungkook said, rubbing in his facial oil. He had already changed into his comfortable white t-shirt and blue plaid pajama bottoms, his hair pushed back with a headband, ready to call it a night.

While Jungkook settled into the routine of getting ready for bed, Mingyu remained fixed in front of the door, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. He was the picture of unwavering confidence, convinced you’d come to celebrate your victory with them.

“She won her fucking match,” Mingyu mumbled against the cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke as he stared at the door, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “What better way to celebrate that than getting laid later in the night? Times two!”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, glancing over at Mingyu. “You’re really set on this, huh?”

“Hell yeah, I am. You saw the way she looked at us earlier. She’s interested.” Mingyu’s voice was full of conviction. “And besides, who wouldn’t want to celebrate with two guys like us?”

“And if she’s not that type of girl, what do you think is gonna happen if she chooses one?” Jungkook asked, leaning against the bathroom door frame, arms crossed. “She’s in here getting piped by one of us while the other sits on the other side of the door listening and waiting?”

“If it came down to that, then yeah,” Mingyu replied, his confidence unshaken. He took another drag from his cigarette, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Jungkook threw his head back, shutting his eyes in frustration. “She’s not fucking coming, Mingyu!”

Just then, a sound echoed through the apartment — knock, knock, knock.

The two boys exchanged wide-eyed glances, their earlier banter abruptly silenced.

A few seconds passed, the tension hanging thick in the air. 

Knock, knock, knock. 

“Shit!”

“Fuck!”

Mingyu scrambled to extinguish his cigarette, the last puff of smoke escaping his lips as he hurriedly tossed it into the nearby trash can. His eyes darted around the room, landing on the clothes he had carelessly thrown on the floor. In a flurry, he began scooping them up, trying to make the place look somewhat presentable.

Meanwhile, Jungkook ripped the headband from his hair, running his fingers through the mess to tame it. He hastily tidies up the bathroom counter, determined to avoid looking like a slob. Out of the two, Jungkook is the cleaner one; that’s why his side of the dorm is in decent shape.

On the other side of the door, you pressed your ear against the wood, curious about why they were taking so long. You could hear muffled voices and shuffling, the anticipation building within you. 

Abruptly, the door swung open, and there you were, face to face with the two boys. They wore wide, welcoming smiles, the kind that made your heart skip a beat.

“You came!” Jungkook exclaims, surprised because he honestly didn’t think you would.

“I did,” you reply, crossing your arms playfully. “Are we gonna chat out here or are you gonna let me in?”

“Right, sorry.” Mingyu mutters, stepping aside to open the door wider.

As soon as you step inside, the lingering scent of Mingyu’s cigarette greets you. Surprisingly, it doesn’t smell as bad as many other male dorms you’ve visited; seriously, are most guys in their early twenties this messy?

You take a moment to observe the room. On the left, everything is neat and organized — posters hung up in an orderly fashion, a bed perfectly made, and even the floor is spotless. The right side, however, is a different story. The bedspread is a mess, half the blanket hanging off, with clothes and random items clearly shoved under the bed in a poor attempt to hide the clutter. The wall is barren, almost as if its occupant couldn’t be bothered to put in any effort.

Once you finish your silent judgment of the chaotic side of the room, you turn your attention to the boys. They stand there, watching you with expressions that blend hope and anticipation, like patient little puppies waiting for their owner to issue commands. Jungkook leans casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, though there’s a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. Mingyu, on the other hand, bounces slightly on his heels, clearly eager for your approval — or maybe just hoping for a laugh at the mess he calls his side.

“Well,” you exhale, letting the tension dissipate with a playful grin, “this is definitely… a room.”

Jungkook snorts, while Mingyu lets out a relieved chuckle. “We honestly weren’t expecting you to show up,” Jungkook admits, his eyes scanning your face for a reaction.

You shrug nonchalantly, “I did say I’d come if I won. And I did whoop Camila Cane’s ass, didn’t I?”

They both chuckle, the tension breaking further as the playful banter kicks in.

“So…” you draw out, raising an eyebrow. “I was promised beer.”

After a brief back-and-forth over seating arrangements, you three finally settled on the floor. You’d quickly discovered that Mingyu’s bed was the one on the right side of the room — the less organized side, which explained the state of it. No way you were sitting there; you had no idea when those sheets had last seen a wash. Meanwhile, Jungkook’s bed on the left, neat and perfectly made, was off-limits because of his germaphobia to ‘outside clothes.’

To your mild surprise, the promise of beer wasn’t just an excuse. Mingyu reached into the mini-fridge and pulled out the last two bottles, cracking them open with ease.

Settling in with them was surprisingly easy. They couldn’t seem to stop talking — about everything and nothing at the same time — and for that, you were grateful. It was fascinating getting to know them better, simply by how they interacted.

“So,” you ask, accepting the cold bottle from Mingyu, “how did you guys meet?”

“Well, we were neighbors at first,” Mingyu replies, settling comfortably as he recalls their past. “We played outside almost every day, and we’ve been attached at the hip ever since.”

His casual tone holds a hint of nostalgia, but you're curious now, intrigued by their dynamic. “So, you two share everything?” you ask, raising an eyebrow and leaning in slightly. Your voice is teasing, but there's a playful challenge behind it.

Mingyu’s grin widens, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Basically, yeah,” he answers without missing a beat.

You pause, letting your gaze flick between the two of them before the next question leaves your lips, a bit more daring this time. “Even the same girls?”

The atmosphere shifts instantly. The room, once filled with light banter, falls into a brief silence. Both boys glance at each other, then down at the floor. You notice the slight twitch in Jungkook’s jaw, the way Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, as if buying time to formulate an answer.

Jungkook clears his throat, looking slightly uncomfortable. “It… it actually doesn’t happen as often as you think,” he stammers, his voice quieter, almost hesitant.

You smirk, sensing the awkward tension. “Really?” you press, wanting to know more.

Mingyu steps in, his voice confident as ever, trying to regain the playful mood. “Jungkook and I don’t usually have the same type,” he says, his tone light but firm.

You can’t resist pushing further, the teasing smile still playing on your lips. “And me?”

Mingyu falls silent, his confident demeanor faltering for a moment. He looks at Jungkook, almost like he's seeking backup, his uncertainty clear in the shift of his posture.

“Well… aren’t you everyone’s type?” Jungkook finally blurts out, his voice soft but laced with hesitation, clearly hoping to diffuse the moment.

Mingyu smirks, a slow, knowing grin spreading across his face. Jungkook, on the other hand, offers something entirely different — his sultry smile, the kind that’s both charming and unsettling in its intensity. His gaze lingers on you, the way his doe eyes shimmer under the dim light making the room feel suddenly smaller and charged with tension.

You feel your cheeks flush, a smile blooming on your lips as you return his gaze, caught up in the moment.

“So, I assume you guys have never had a threesome,” you say, shifting your longing gaze to Mingyu, relishing the way their expressions shift.

The sight in front of you is downright amusing. They both look like deers caught in headlights, eyes wide and mouths slightly agape. You tilt your head, savoring the anticipation as you wait for a response.

“I- uh-” Mingyu stammers, clearly flustered. “It- it was never really something we thought about…”

You let the silence hang in the air for a moment, then ask, “So should I just go then?” You can’t help but tease them, enjoying the power you have in this playful game.

“No!” they shout in unison, their voices rising in a mix of panic and urgency.

You giggle softly, thoroughly entertained by how flustered they seem. Their awkward chuckles only add to your amusement as the energy in the room shifts. The quietness that the room falls into isn’t just a pause — it’s a promise of something about to unfold, and you can feel their nervous energy as they settle into the moment.

Without breaking eye contact, you tap the two spots next to you, silently beckoning them. The gesture is casual, but the meaning behind it carries weight. Your voice softens, yet commands attention as you murmur,

“Come.”

They exchange a quick glance, a silent message passing between them. Then, almost in unison, they move quickly, Jungkook taking the spot on your right, and Mingyu settling on your left.

Though their movements were swift, the atmosphere between you all slows as soon as they sit. Jungkook's leg gently grazes yours, a subtle touch that sends a ripple of awareness through you. Mingyu shifts closer, his presence more assertive, his body angled toward you. The warmth from both of them is impossible to ignore, their proximity pressing in, heavy and undeniable.

There was no denying that the two of them were incredibly attractive — after all, you wouldn’t be here hinting at a potential threesome if they weren’t. Jungkook, with his quiet, almost bashful demeanor, had a certain charm that pulled you in. His shyness only added to his appeal, making you want to peel back his layers and see the side he rarely showed to others. And, of course, there was the added bonus of his tattooed arm, ink swirling across his skin in intricate designs, and the lip piercings that gave him an edgy twist (though he always took them out before tennis matches). That mix of boyish charm and rebellious edge was impossible to resist.

Then there was Mingyu — tall, confident, and utterly captivating. He had the kind of self-assured presence that drew your attention immediately. His confidence wasn’t just attractive — it was the kind that made every girl weak in the knees, leaving them hanging on his every word. While Jungkook’s quiet intensity worked its way under your skin slowly, Mingyu’s bold, magnetic charm hit you all at once.

You glance over at Jungkook, noticing how his eyes are fixed on his lap, his fingers nervously fidgeting in his hands. His uncertainty is almost endearing. Then you shift your attention to Mingyu, who is the complete opposite — bold and unapologetic, staring directly at you, his face just inches away, body almost pressed into yours. He’s clearly used to getting what he wants, but you’ve never been drawn to arrogance. Mingyu would have to wait his turn.

You turn your focus back to Jungkook, your hand moving slowly under his chin, gently lifting his face until his eyes meet yours. His surprise is obvious, but he doesn’t pull away. His gaze drops to your lips for a brief moment before flicking back to your eyes, and just as he’s about to react, his eyes close instinctively at the feel of your lips softly pressing against his.

As Jungkook leans into the kiss, you feel him slowly relax, his body softening against yours. Your fingers tangle in his hair, gentle but firm, deepening the connection between you. His hand hesitates for only a moment before settling on your waist, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

On your left, Mingyu remains silent, his usual bravado replaced with something quieter, though not passive. His eyes flicker with jealousy, but there’s admiration there too, a sort of begrudging respect for the moment unfolding in front of him. It’s strange seeing him so quiet, especially after all the confidence he’d shown.

As you pull away from Jungkook, a soft, almost disappointed sound escapes his lips, and his pout deepens, the swell of his pink lips and furrowed brows betraying his desire for more. You can’t help but smile at his expression, brushing your thumb tenderly across his bottom lip as if to comfort him. His hand slides reluctantly off your waist, making way for Mingyu, who wastes no time in taking over.

Mingyu’s large hand rests confidently on your thigh, his touch firm and sure, a stark contrast to Jungkook's more tentative approach. The difference between them is palpable — Jungkook’s gentle uncertainty versus Mingyu’s bold, unspoken demand. It was a clear reflection of their personalities. You feel the heat from Mingyu’s palm spread across your skin, his presence suddenly more imposing.

Mingyu’s lips crash against yours with a fierce urgency, leaving no room for hesitation. His grip on your neck is firm, pulling you into him as if he can’t get close enough. His kiss is demanding, rougher than Jungkook’s soft, tentative approach, and it has a wetness starting to pool in your panties. You feel the intensity of his desire in every movement — the way his lips devour yours, his hand clutching at your neck like he’s afraid to let go.

There’s a stark difference in how Mingyu claims you, his kiss full of hunger, no patience, no softness. It’s intoxicating, a whirlwind compared to the gentle warmth of Jungkook's touch. Mingyu's presence dominates the space around you, making everything else fade as he pulls you deeper into his embrace.

You press your hand firmly against Mingyu's chest, pushing him back with just enough force to break the kiss. His grip loosens reluctantly, and though his dark eyes are still heavy with want, he lets go. You sit back, catching your breath, the room now filled with nothing but the sound of you and Mingyu trying to steady yourselves.

Jungkook shifts across from you, and you don’t miss the way his breath has quickened, his pants tightening as he grows more eager for another chance. His eyes flick between you and Mingyu, a mix of anticipation and impatience building up inside him.

“Take your pants off,” you command, unzipping your sweater. “Both of you.”

Mingyu falters, his usual confidence wavering as uncertainty crosses his face. For the first time, he's hesitant, not wanting to cross any lines with Jungkook, who’s been like a brother to him. But the moment Jungkook starts sliding his pajama pants off without a second thought, letting out a soft moan of relief, Mingyu relaxes a little. He watches Jungkook, and with that unspoken permission, he begins to unbutton his own jeans.

Jungkook's chest rises and falls rapidly as he palms himself through his boxers, his eyes fluttering shut as he lets out silent gasps. His brows furrow, and his parted lips move with barely audible moans. You notice, and with a playful smirk, you tilt your head toward him.

“Take those off, Koo,” you say, your voice teasing as you pull off your shorts. “Show me how you touch yourself.”

It’s surprising, especially from someone like Jungkook, but with little hesitation, he slips off his boxers and wraps his hand around himself, starting with slow, deliberate strokes. His tip, flushed a deep shade of pink, matches the color of his soft, pouty lips, and the sight of his length is impressive. There’s truth to the saying that the quiet ones pack the most. The way his hand moves, his chest rising and falling in sync, makes it impossible to look away.

Mingyu watches, a mix of shock and intrigue flickering across his face as Jungkook unfolds before him, completely at ease in this intimate moment. Sure, he’s seen Jungkook’s dick before — they’ve been best friends for years, comfortable enough to brush off the awkwardness of locker rooms or casual nudity. But this… this is different.

Mingyu has always been the one to take the lead in their more adventurous escapades, steering the dynamic with his bold confidence. But now, as he sees Jungkook so focused and vulnerable, he realizes… his best friend’s got it bad for you. 

Feeling a surge of confidence, Mingyu follows suit, sliding his jeans and boxers off in one smooth motion. He mirrors Jungkook’s actions, his own hand wrapping around his length, joining in the intimate display.

While Jungkook's cock stood impressive in length, Mingyu's wasn’t too far off, though thicker, more girth to it. His cock was a deeper brownish-pink compared to Jungkook's softer, lighter shade. The contrast between them was striking, each appealing in their own way, both undeniably captivating. Their eyes flickered between each other and back to you, tension building as they stroked themselves, the sight enough to make your pulse quicken.

Clad in nothing but a matching white lacy set, your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth as you take in the sight before you. Jungkook and Mingyu, completely entranced, their hands stroking their lengths as their gazes hungrily trace every curve of your body. The heat in their eyes ignites a rush of confidence through you, sending a wave of satisfaction at the way they're both coming undone with just the sight of you. You relish in the power you hold over them, knowing that your mere presence is enough to leave them breathless and wanting.

Moving closer on your knees, you snake each arm around the back of their necks, pulling them in. Their hands continue stroking themselves, but their eyes flicker with confusion, unsure of your next move. Then, without warning, you lean in and pull them both toward you, initiating a heated three-way kiss. Their lips crash into yours and each other's, hesitant at first, but soon they melt into the moment, the taste of you and the shared heat between the three of you intensifying everything.

The intensity between you all builds, the space around you shrinking as things get more heated. Jungkook seizes your lips, deepening the kiss, your tongues moving together in a heated rhythm. Mingyu, on the other hand, doesn't seem to mind. His focus shifts, and you feel his fingers fumbling with the latch of your bra, finally managing to unhook it. The fabric slides away, and in no time, his large hand cups your breast, squeezing the soft flesh as he picks up the pace, stroking himself faster, more eagerly now.

As your lips are locked in a heated kiss with Jungkook, you reach for Mingyu's hand on your chest, guiding him downward with a firm grip. He follows your lead, sliding his hand into your panties without hesitation. The moment his fingers brush against your sopping pussy, you can feel the shudder that runs through him. His breath hitches, and the words spill from him in a low, husky tone.

"Fuck, you're so wet," he groans, the arousal thick in his voice. “Feel her, Kook.”

Jungkook, eager to take control, pulls his lips away from you, his breath ragged as he swiftly replaces Mingyu's hand with his own. The instant he makes contact, he lets out an audible moan, the sound vibrating between you. His middle finger moves up and down your slit, exploring you with slow, deliberate strokes, as if savoring every moment.

But the teasing touch drives you wild — their fingers are too light, too gentle. A whimper escapes your lips, your body trembling with need. You're much too sensitive for this kind of play, desperate to be touched properly. Every slow pass of Jungkook's finger sends ripples of frustration through you, heightening your arousal yet leaving you wanting more.

"Do you usually get this wet?" he asks, his finger lazily teasing your entrance, the pressure maddeningly light.

"J- just touch me more, please," you whine, your body arching toward his hand, desperate for more.

"Answer me first," he demands, his voice low and commanding, leaving no room for negotiation.

Jungkook was much different in moments like these, a sharp contrast to his usual self. Outside the bedroom, he was shy, even gentle, but when it came to intimacy, he transformed — his assertiveness both thrilling and intimidating, making your pulse quicken under the weight of his dominance.

"Yes!" you exclaim, practically begging. "Yes, I do!"

Both guys chuckle at your outburst, their amusement adding a teasing edge to the already charged atmosphere. Jungkook finally relents, slipping two wet fingers inside your dripping pussy with a slow, deliberate thrust, making you gasp sharply. Your back arches, head thrown back in a mix of pleasure and relief, while your fist tightens around Mingyu's shirt — the one that frustratingly still clung to his body. Mingyu smirks as he pulls away the last barrier between you and them, tossing your soaked panties to the side, now completely ruined with your slick. 

Wanting to give you just as much pleasure as Jungkook was, Mingyu’s hand finds its way to your clit, his fingers rubbing slow, deliberate circles that send sparks of heat through your core. The dual sensations make your body tremble, your mind barely able to keep up with the overwhelming pleasure as both men touch you, their combined attention making you feel utterly claimed.

In perfect sync, not even a millisecond behind or ahead, both of them reach for your neck, their lips pressing gentle kisses against your skin. Jungkook's kisses quickly turn into soft, teasing bites, his teeth grazing your sensitive flesh as he leaves a trail of red marks that bloom beneath his touch. The slight sting only adds to the heat swirling inside you, each bite more possessive than the last. Meanwhile, Mingyu's kisses travel upward, brushing against your jaw before he finds your cheek, his lips warm and soft. He bites down lightly on your bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth with a playful edge, his breath mingling with yours as he watches your reaction, the two of them in perfect harmony, each claiming you in their own way.

You moan into Mingyu's mouth, your voice shaky as you whisper, "'M so close."

Mingyu only hums in response, his lips still pressed against yours, the vibration of his deep voice sending a shiver through you. His hand is busy, stroking his cock with a steady rhythm, each movement becoming more desperate as his own release builds. He's close too, his breath growing heavier, but his focus never strays from you. Jungkook, though just as turned on, remains focused on your pleasure. His fingers plunge in and out of you at a quicker pace now, curling inside you with precision, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust. Your moans grow louder, the room thick with the sounds of pleasure as both men work in sync, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

A few more seconds, a few more kisses, and a few more strokes — then it happens. It’s like fireworks exploding all at once as the three of you reach your peaks in perfect unison. Your body seizes up, pleasure crashing through you like a tidal wave. Your moans, raw and uninhibited, sound almost pornographic, echoing through the room as you ride the high of your orgasm. Jungkook groans deeply, his voice rough and strained, the sound of his release vibrating in the air as he watches you fall apart beneath his touch. Mingyu, however, is quite literally growling as he cums, his body tensing beside you, chest heaving. The three of you, tangled together, create a symphony of raw pleasure, each sound feeding into the intensity of the moment as your bodies give in to the overwhelming ecstasy.

Completely spent, your body falls limp as you lean onto Mingyu, who instinctively wraps a strong arm around you, holding you close to his chest. The warmth of his skin against yours is comforting, grounding you in the aftermath of the intensity. Jungkook, equally exhausted, leans his head against your shoulder, his damp hair sticking slightly to your skin as beads of sweat drop from his brow. You don’t mind at all. Instead, you reach up and run your fingers through his raven hair, gently combing through the soft strands as the three of you bask in the quiet, intimate aftermath, your breathing slowly syncing as the room fades into a peaceful lull.

"Think you'll share the same girl again?" you tease, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

For a moment, there's silence before all three of you erupt into a fit of snickers and chuckles, the tension melting away. Mingyu shakes his head, still catching his breath, while Jungkook leans in closer, a lazy grin spreading across his face. The laughter fills the room, light and carefree, as the intensity from moments before dissolves into something more familiar, more comfortable. The air is filled with an easy camaraderie, the teasing making it clear that despite the heat, there's still room for laughter.

Suddenly feeling as if the room has grown too intimate, you gently push Jungkook off you and rise from Mingyu’s side, creating a little distance. 

“Well, you two have a match tomorrow. Get some rest,” you say, glancing around until your eyes land on your soaked underwear. You pick them up and put them back on, the wet fabric uncomfortably clinging to your skin as you do.

“Where’re you going?” Mingyu asks, his eyes roaming your naked figure, a mix of admiration and longing on his face.

“To my dorm?” you laugh, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, trying to keep the mood light despite the heaviness of the moment.

“W- will we do this again?” Jungkook stutters, his voice a mix of hope and uncertainty.

You hook your bra behind your back, chuckling softly at his eagerness. “I don’t think I’ll be coming back here again.”

“Didn’t you have fun?” he asks again, his tone turning whiney, as if he’s desperately trying to hold onto the moment.

You exhale slowly, a hint of regret in your voice. “Yes, but I don’t do throuples.”

Jungkook sighs, his gaze dropping to the floor, disappointment washing over him. Meanwhile, Mingyu looks up at you with a spark of hope in his eyes, clearly not ready to give up just yet.

“Alright,” you finally concede, a playful grin creeping onto your face. “I will be watching your match tomorrow. Whoever wins… we can do it again. Alone.”

Mingyu’s face brightens instantly, a wide smile breaking through, but Jungkook just looks even more defeated, the weight of competition resting heavily on his shoulders.

“You can beat him, Jungkook. I know you’ve got it in you,” you encourage, trying to lift his spirits.

“Are you saying you want me to?” he asks, his voice laced with both challenge and eagerness.

“I’m saying you can beat him,” you reply, a teasing smile on your lips.

“But what do you want?” he presses, his gaze searching yours for the answer.

“I want to watch. Some good. Fucking. Tennis,” you say, emphasizing each word with a playful wink.

Gathering the last of your things, you leave the room with a smile, the laughter and teasing lingering in the air as you step back into the hallway, leaving behind a charged atmosphere filled with possibilities.

“Let me win?” Jungkook asks, turning to his friend with wide, pleading eyes that could melt anyone’s resolve.

“Don’t look at me like that when your dick is out, bro,” he replies, a look of disgust written all over his features, unable to suppress a smirk.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, kissing his teeth in annoyance. “Come on, you always win!”

Mingyu raises an eyebrow, considering it for a moment. “Fine, I’ll let you win if you let me shower first.”

“For real?” Jungkook’s face lights up, a grin stretching ear to ear as he processes Mingyu's words, excitement bubbling in his chest.

Mingyu nods, getting up and grabbing a towel, making his way toward the bathroom. Once the door is locked behind him, a playful grin spreads across his face as he calls out,

“I was fucking with you, stupid ass!”