Mrs Park Jimi-Na

The backstage hallway was noticeably quieter than the arena they had just left behind. The distant cheers of thousands of fans still echoed through the walls, muffled by layers of concrete and heavy doors, while staff hurried from room to room carrying water bottles, towels, and fresh outfits.

After being escorted backstage, you and your best friend exchanged one last excited look before heading in opposite directions.

She disappeared toward Jin's dressing room. You walked toward Jimin's. Your pulse still hadn't settled.

The dressing room was empty when you stepped inside. His jacket rested over the back of a chair, half-empty water bottles were scattered across the vanity, and a bouquet of flowers from earlier in the day sat in one corner. You smiled to yourself, taking in the familiar space while waiting for him.

The door clicked open behind you.

Before you could turn around, a pair of warm arms slipped around your waist.

You smiled immediately. Jimin rested his chin lightly on your shoulder, pulling you closer against his chest before pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek.

"Did you like it?" he asked softly.

You leaned back into him without hesitation, letting your head rest against his shoulder.

"I loved it," you answered with a quiet laugh. "I never expected you to perform Let Go or Blood Sweat & Tears."

You felt him smile before you saw it.

"We wanted tonight to be special for you girls."

Your heart melted. "You planned all that?"

"Not everything," he admitted with a chuckle. "ARMY chose the songs... but we were hoping they'd pick those."

You turned in his embrace until you were facing him.

"So you ran over during Let Go on purpose?"

He looked completely unapologetic.

"Maybe."

You narrowed your eyes playfully. "And Fake Love?"

He laughed. "Definitely."

You lightly smacked his arm. "You weren't even supposed to come to our side."

"I know."

"You changed the formation."

"I know."

"You gave the choreographer a heart attack."

That made him laugh harder, his shoulders shaking. "It was worth it."

You couldn't help laughing with him. "I noticed."

His smile softened as he brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "You looked so happy."

"I was."

He studied your face for a moment before speaking again. "You know..." His thumb traced small circles over your hand. "Watching you enjoy the concert makes performing even more fun."

Your cheeks warmed. "You say things like that so casually."

"They're true."

Before you could answer, someone knocked on the door.

"Five minutes!" a staff member called.

Jimin sighed dramatically.

"So little time."

"You have another show tomorrow."

"I know." He rested his forehead against yours. "Still doesn't mean I have to like leaving."

You smiled. "I'll survive."

"I won't.”

"You absolutely will."

He laughed before stealing another quick kiss from your cheek.

Just a few doors down, your best friend found herself standing awkwardly in the middle of Jin's dressing room, still replaying the concert in her head. Especially one particular moment. The door burst open.

"There you are!" Jin announced dramatically, pointing at her as though he had finally solved a mystery.

She blinked. "What?"

"I've been looking for the person who almost fainted during my verse."

Her face instantly turned red. "I... I did not almost faint."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"You imagined it."

"I saw your knees give out."

"I was adjusting my balance."

"You were falling."

"I was absolutely not falling."

Jin folded his arms with an unconvinced smile before stepping closer. "So... did you enjoy my little surprise?"

She looked down shyly. "It was my favorite song."

"I know."

She looked back up. "You knew?"

He nodded proudly. "You've listened to it enough times around us."

She laughed. "So you really changed the formation just for that?"

"I figured..." he said, rubbing the back of his neck with an unusually bashful smile. "If someone is going to remember tonight forever, I might as well give her a reason."

She stared at him speechless. "You know," he added with a teasing grin, "the wink was actually my favorite part."

She covered her face with both hands.

"Please don't remind me."

"Oh, I absolutely will."

"You are impossible."

"And yet," he replied with a satisfied smile, "you still smiled the whole time."

She peeked at him through her fingers.

"I couldn't help it."

His teasing expression softened. "I'm glad."

For a brief moment, neither of them spoke.

Outside, another wave of cheers drifted through the hallway, reminding them that thousands of fans were still celebrating the night that had just ended.

Inside, however, everything felt quiet.

The concert lights swallow the arena in color and motion, and from your place near the stage, everything feels louder, brighter, closer than it had during soundcheck.

For the first eight songs, Jimin stays mostly at the center of the stage, exactly where the choreography demands. You try to focus on the performance like everyone else, but your eyes keep finding him instinctively. Every turn, every step, every line he sings feels sharper now that the arena is full and alive.

Then the opening notes of Fake Love fill the space.

The formation shifts. The members split into pairs and singles, spreading toward the four corners of the extended stage. You already know the pattern from rehearsals. You have watched it enough times to know that Jimin and Jin are not supposed to come anywhere near your section. 

So you relax. Until you see them walking straight toward you.

Jimin has that playful smile tugging at his lips, the one that always means he is doing something he shouldn’t. 

As he gets closer, he gives you a quick wink, eyes glinting under the stage lights. Beside him, Jin dramatically blows a flying kiss toward your best friend, adding an exaggerated expression that makes her gasp.

They stay only the necessary seconds dictated by the choreography before smoothly turning and returning to the center of the stage as if nothing unusual has happened.

You stare after them, heart racing. That was not in rehearsal.

During the second part of the concert, you begin to notice a pattern. Whenever possible, Jimin and Jin find ways to drift toward your side of the stage. Not long enough to break formation, not obvious enough for most people to notice—but enough.

Enough for you.

By the last segment of the show, the energy in the arena has reached its peak. Sweat, lights, cheers, and music blend into something almost unreal.

Jin knows.

You can tell by the look he gives your friend from across the stage. He knows how much she loves “Come over.” 

When his verse approaches, instead of following the usual formation, he subtly alters his path.

He stops directly in front of her.

He sings his first verse looking straight at your best friend. Then, right before turning away, he winks and blows her a kiss.

Her knees nearly give out.

You grab her arm to keep her from falling as laughter bubbles out of you. Several of the members, already moving back across the stage, notice the interaction and laugh too, their smiles obvious even from a distance.

Then comes the surprise segment.

The members begin walking around the stage, encouraging fans to shout out song requests. The arena fills with overlapping voices as everyone screams their favorites. You and your friend join in, shouting along with the crowd.

Namjoon’s voice echoes through the speakers as he asks the DJ to “spin that.” A beat drops.

Let Go starts playing. Jimin turns immediately. Even from far away, you can see the exact moment he recognizes it. His head snaps in your direction with a knowing expression. He knows this is one of your favorite songs.

When the refrain approaches, he doesn’t hesitate. He runs. He crosses the stage quickly and positions himself directly in front of you. 

As he begins the choreography, V and Jungkook join him seamlessly, turning the moment into an impromptu trio performance right in front of you and your friend.

You bite your lip without realizing it. Jimin notices. In the middle of the choreography, he briefly licks his lips in response, eyes never leaving yours.

The song ends, but there is no time to recover. The next track starts instantly.

You and your friend look at each other in alarm. You don’t need to say anything. You both know.

The DJ has chosen Blood Sweat & Tears.

The moment the familiar intro plays, you both lose it. You scream just like the rest of the fans, completely unable to stay composed. 

When the members slip into the old choreography, nostalgia and excitement hit at once, and for a moment you forget everything else.

You are just another fan, shouting and singing along.

By the time the final bows come, your voice is gone and your legs feel weak.

As the members begin leaving the stage and the fireworks outside draw the crowd’s attention upward, staff members approach you and your friend quietly.

“It’s time,” one of them says gently.

While the fans are distracted by the lights in the sky, you are escorted away from the barricade and guided backstage, the distant echo of cheers still ringing in your ears.

Your heart is still racing. And you know this night isn’t over yet.

The seats were only partially filled, and cables ran across the stage. Staff moved back and forth with headsets and clipboards. The scattered fans who were lucky enough to obtain soundcheck access waited with restrained excitement, their voices low but eager.

You stood beside your best friend in the designated soundcheck area—a space close enough to the stage to hear every echo and adjustment, yet separated from the group of fans. Staff had positioned you there, where the members could clearly see both of you as they walked toward the platform.

You tried to steady your breathing. You had been to concerts before. You had even been backstage. But this felt different. Maybe because today, you weren’t hidden away behind curtains or hallways. Today, you would be right there in the open, visible, waiting.

Your friend nudged you lightly. “They’re coming.”

From the side entrance, silhouettes began to form under the work lights. The members were walking out casually, dressed comfortably, some holding in-ear monitors, others adjusting jackets. They were heading toward the stage.

But then— they shifted direction. They were walking straight toward you.

The first to break away from the line was Suga. As always, he walked with purpose, fast and efficient, hands loosely at his sides, as if he had somewhere important to be—even during rehearsal. 

He barely slowed when he reached both of you, but he leaned in smoothly, pressing a quick kiss to yourcheek, then doing the same to your friend.

“Good to see you,” he said quietly, already turning toward the stage. And just like that, he continued forward, climbing up to join the crew.

Right behind him came Hobi. He didn’t simply walk—he bounced with bright energy. The moment he reached you, he wrapped both of you into a crushing, warm hug.

“You came!” he said happily, flashing that radiant smile that seemed too big for rehearsal lighting.

He squeezed you once more before jogging lightly toward the stage with Suga.

Next was RM. He approached calmly, adjusting his mic. He offered you that soft, characteristic smile that revealed his dimple, then bowed his head slightly in greeting—a quiet, respectful acknowledgment that felt sincere and grounding amid the technical bustle.

Both of you bowed back instinctively.

Then came Jin. He gave you a playful wave from a few steps away. “Hi!” he called lightly, voice echoing through the mostly empty arena. As he passed closer, he leaned toward your friend and whispered something into her ear.

Your friend’s face turned bright red instantly.

Jin walked away with a proud, satisfied grin, heading up the stage stairs as if nothing had happened.

The maknae line followed together.

Tae stopped right in front of you with exaggerated seriousness. He extended his hand formally, as if meeting you at a formal event for the first time.

“Nice to meet you,” he said with theatrical politeness.

You and your friend laughed but shook his hand anyway. Tae nodded gravely before breaking into a mischievous grin and stepping away toward the stage.

Behind him, JK approached with youthful enthusiasm. He gave both of you an energetic wink, flashing an enormous smile, then bowed formally—almost too formally—before following the others up.

And then— he appeared. Jimin.

He walked more slowly, adjusting his in-ear monitor, but his eyes were already locked in yourself. 

The surrounding chatter of crew members faded into background noise. 

He stopped directly in front of you. Without hesitation, he leaned in and kissed your cheek softly.

You felt warmth rise to your face.

Beside you, your friend quickly pulled out her phone. Jimin noticed.

In one swift motion, he slid his arm around your waist and pulled you gently against him. The sudden movement made you yelp in surprise, grabbing onto his shirt to steady yourself.

Click. Your friend captured the moment.

Jimin leaned closer, his lips near your ear, whispering something in Korean. The quiet rehearsal space allowed his voice to reach you more clearly than it would have during the actual concert—but the distant testing of speakers and a sudden mic feedback burst made parts of it blur together.

You caught only fragments. His breath was warm against your skin.

Before you could ask him to repeat it, he placed another soft kiss on your cheek. Then he stepped back.

He gave you one last lingering look—his smile wider now, eyes shining softly—before turning and walking toward the stage to rejoin the others.

Halfway there, just before climbing the steps, he glanced back at you.

And smiled again.

The arena trembled with light.

From her seat halfway down the extended stage, Y/N felt the bass before she heard it, a vibration that traveled up through her ribs and settled somewhere behind her heart. Thousands of lightsticks shimmered like a living galaxy, colors shifting in waves across the crowd. She had imagined this moment a hundred times, but now that she was here, it felt unreal—too loud, too bright, too overwhelming to be real life.

And yet, the reason her chest felt tight had nothing to do with the spectacle.

He was out there.

Park Jimin.

Her Jimin.

Not hers in the way the world understood. Not in the way fans would accept. Not in the way cameras, headlines, and rumors would allow. But in the quiet spaces between texts at 2 a.m., in soft laughter over video calls, in the way he remembered how she liked her coffee and sent her pictures of sunsets from hotel balconies.

Tonight, she was just another face in the crowd.

And she had promised him she would be.

The music thundered, and the stage lifted in a blaze of sparks as BTS rose from beneath the platform. The screams around her were deafening, a tidal wave of devotion that shook the air. Y/N screamed too, not because she had to pretend, but because she couldn’t stop herself.

There he was.

Jimin stood slightly to the left, blond hair catching the lights, jacket glittering like he’d been dipped in stardust. From this distance, he looked untouchable, almost unreal. A performer, an idol, a dream sculpted by choreography and camera angles.

But she knew the way his shoulders relaxed when he was tired. The way he bit the inside of his cheek when he was nervous. The way his eyes softened when he smiled for real.

The first few songs blurred together. She sang, cheered, waved her lightstick, let herself be swept into the collective joy of the arena. Every time he came near the edge of the stage, her breath caught painfully in her throat.

He didn’t look at her.

He couldn’t.

They had talked about this. Planned it carefully. He couldn’t risk a glance lingering too long, couldn’t risk fans noticing a pattern, a direction, a focus. He had to be professional. Careful. Distant.

She understood.

She did.

But it still hurt.

Midway through the concert, the lights dimmed and the stage fell quiet. The members separated to different sections of the extended stage, preparing for individual moments. Jimin walked alone toward the far end—the end closest to where she sat.

Her pulse roared in her ears.

He stopped, breathing slightly heavier from the performance, a small smile playing on his lips as he looked out at the ocean of lights.

Then he spoke.

His voice came through the speakers soft, warm, almost intimate despite the thousands listening.

“Sometimes,” he said, “there are people in the audience who give you strength without even knowing it.”

Her fingers tightened around her lightstick.

“People you can’t point to. People you can’t talk about. But you feel them.”

Her vision blurred.

He wasn’t looking at her.

He was looking slightly above the crowd, gaze sweeping gently from side to side. Perfectly neutral. Perfectly safe.

“I hope,” he continued, “that tonight, someone here knows how important they are to me.”

The crowd cheered, thinking it was meant for all of them.

But she knew.

Because of what came next.

He lifted his hand to his chest and, casually—so casually most wouldn’t notice—pressed his thumb against the thin silver chain he wore around his neck.

The same chain she had given him before he left for tour.

The one hidden under his shirt, always out of sight.

He never wore it on stage.

Never.

Until now.

Her breath caught like she’d been punched.

Tears spilled down her cheeks before she realized she was crying.

To everyone else, it was just a gesture. A sentimental comment. Idol-fan affection.

But to her, it was a sentence only she could read.

I’m here. I see you. I love you.

Jimin smiled softly, then turned away, the moment gone as quickly as it had come. The music started again, louder, brighter, and he slipped back into choreography as if nothing had happened.

But for the rest of the concert, something had changed inside her.

She didn’t need him to look at her.

She didn’t need a wave or a wink or anything obvious.

Because in a stadium filled with thousands of people, he had spoken directly to her without saying her name once.

When the final song ended and confetti rained from the ceiling, Y/N stood still amid the chaos, hand over her heart where it felt like his thumb had pressed moments before.

No one around her knew.

No one could guess.

But she carried the secret like a glowing ember inside her chest.

A knock on the door wakes you, and you move as quietly and slowly as possible to avoid waking your Omega.

You blink a few times, adjusting to the light outside your dark bedroom. “Lily? What are you doing here?”

She smiles. “Halmeoni requested me to show you around, now that you will be the Alpha of the pack.”

You sigh, running your hand through your hair. “I’m not the Alpha yet,” you whine.

“She’s certain you’ll become Alpha. So, get changed and remind your Omega not to wander alone,” Lily adds, her tone serious.

You nod. “He’s aware.”

“I’ll be waiting outside. Don’t make me wait too long,” she teases, raising her eyebrow playfully.

“Where are you going?” Jimin asks from the bed after you step out of the closet dressed.

“My Alpha duties,” you reply, sitting beside him. “Go back to sleep—you need it.” You kiss his forehead and caress his belly. “I’ll try to come back to eat with you, but I can’t promise. And don’t wander alone, please.” You deposit a kiss on his cheek.

He leans over you, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around your torso. “It’s our third day here, and you’re not the Alpha yet. Come back to bed with us,” he pouts.

You inhale sharply, filling your lungs with his scent, now heightened with the pregnancy. “Fuck… you smell so good. But I must go now—Lily’s waiting.” You rush a peck to his lips before getting off the bed.

“Fine, go,” he mutters, turning away, back to you.

Sighing, you crawl to him, leaving a final kiss on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, jagiya. I’ll reward you later. I love you,” you whisper, then leave the room.

————————————————————————

“Why did take you so long? Difficult to leave your Omega?” Lily teases, smirking.

“Shut up!” you snap, brushing past her and playfully hitting her shoulder.

“Come on, let’s start with the pack boundaries,” she says before transforming into a dark grey wolf and running ahead.

“That’s totally unfair!” you exclaim, hurrying to catch up. “You know I haven’t learned to control my wolf yet.”

She growls before shifting back to human form. “That’s your fault,” she sighs. “Let’s do this the human way.” She begins walking deeper into the woods.

The sky is clear and blue, a gentle breeze brushing your skin, carrying the scent of pine, wet soil, and the subtle sounds of the forest.

You inhale deeply, savoring the fresh air. You’ve missed this, back when the woods were your only escape from training to become Alpha.

“This brings back memories?” Lily asks, noticing your pause.

“Yeah, I really miss it,” you admit, glancing at her. “But giving this up… I gained Jimin. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”

“I know. I saw it,” she says, settling on an old trunk.

You tilt your head. “What do you mean?”

“Almost at the end of your sabbatical year, Halmeoni sent me to find you,” she begins. “That’s when I saw both of you.” She smiles, recalling the scene. “You were waiting outside your work, checking your watch, when he suddenly appeared behind you…”

“Who am I?” he asks excitedly.

A smile spreads across your lips. Your hand rises to touch the hands covering your eyes.

“Park Jimin,” you tease, knowing exactly what he wants to hear.

“Try again, Alpha,” he insists.

“Mochi.” You feel him shake his head vigorously, probably pouting.

“No, Alpha. Don’t be mean,” he whines. “Try again. Who am I?”

You remove his hands and turn to face him. “My Omega,” you finally exclaim, pecking his lips.

“I never saw you happier than that time,” Lily comments, bringing you back to the present.

“I found what happiness is when I met him,” you confess.

She smiles. “Come on, let’s finish so you can return to your Omega,” and she runs deeper into the forest.

————————————————————————

You carry a tray of fruits, Greek yogurt, and boiled eggs in your left hand as you open the door with your right, spotting him lying on the bed.

“Well… at least one of us got more sleep,” you whisper, setting the tray on the desk and sitting beside him.

“I’m back, Jimin,” you murmur, leaning in for a kiss.

Instead, your lips meet his hand. “Why do you smell like other Omegas?”

“Do I?” You stand and sniff your clothes. “I think I smell like mud and sweat.”

“Mud, really?” He sits up, sniffing you. “You smell like not one, but two Omegas. That’s… disgusting. Why?” He crosses his arms and pouts.

“I went to meet Lily’s Omega and her kids,” you explain, removing your shirt to reveal a black sports bra. “He’s a male Omega; maybe you two can meet someday. Her oldest, Jack, is an Omega too.” You rise and head to the bathroom.

Jimin grabs your hand. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To shower,” you reply, pointing to the door.

“No.” He pulls you close, his lips on yours and his right hand behind your head.

He pushes you, making you lose balance and sit at the edge of the bed. He straddles your legs, pressing you down.

“I should mark you again,” he murmurs. “So they know who your Omega is.”

Jimin isn’t often possessive, but when he is, you enjoy it—until he remembers you’re the Alpha.

“And what are you waiting for?” you tease, eyebrow raised, moving close to his face.

“Ah,” he moans, hips shifting at the sensation of your growing bulge beneath him.

You place your hand on his back, licking his bonding mark. “I should teach you who you obey,” you whisper huskily. “But I’ll let you have your way today.”

He pushes you down, making you smirk, removing his shirt and rising just enough to remove your underwear and his joggers.

“Naughty boy,” you murmur.

“Shut up,” he replies, positioning himself atop your pelvis, pressing against your clitoris.

“Riding me has become your favorite position while carrying our pups,” you comment, watching him align with you.

“Alpha,” he moans.

Sitting up, you place your arms behind him. “Lower your voice, Jiminah, or do you want everyone to hear you?” You push him deeper, making him scream.

He lets out a small cry, pressing his mouth to your shoulder where his mark rests, trying to stifle it.

“Do it, Jiminah,” you encourage. “Mark your Alpha again.”

Unable to resist, he obeys, moaning as you simultaneously mark his shoulder, your pace quickening toward release.

You turn onto your side, watching him sleep on your arm as a pillow, covering his lower half with the blanket. “I should return smelling like other Omegas more often,” you tease.

“You don’t want that,” he murmurs without opening his eyes.

“You’re right,” you reply, placing your hand on his belly. “I only want your scent—or our children’s.” You kiss him gently.

He opens his eyes, smiling. “Good to know. Now let’s nap,” he murmurs, snuggling closer.

“I love you, Jimin,” you whisper, kissing his forehead.

The countdown clock glows on the TV, bright red numbers reflecting off the windows of the living room. Outside, Seoul hums softly, the city holding its breath as the year prepares to turn. Inside, laughter fills the space—warm, familiar, chaotic in the way only the seven of them can be.

You sit on the floor, legs tucked beneath you, leaning slightly against Jimin’s side. Your husband, really, though the word still feels new and precious—rests his chin on your shoulder, arms loosely wrapped around your waist. His heartbeat is steady against your back, grounding you amid the noise.

Jin is dramatically arguing with Jungkook about who ate the last tteok, while Namjoon pretends not to listen, sipping his drink and smiling like he already knows how this ends. Yoongi sits nearby, phone in hand, recording everything while muttering that this chaos will somehow become nostalgic later. Hoseok claps along to the music playing in the background, unable to stay still, and Taehyung lounges on the couch, eyes drifting between the window and the people he loves.

You look around the room and feel it—the quiet gratitude that settles deep in your chest. Another year survived. Another year together.

Jimin presses a soft kiss to your temple. “Cold?” he whispers.

You shake your head. “Just… happy.”

He smiles, that gentle, eye-crinkling smile meant only for you. “Me too.”

The clock ticks closer to midnight. Ten seconds. Everyone gathers near the TV, voices overlapping as they count down together.

“Ten!” “Nine!” “Eight!”

Jimin’s hand tightens around yours.

“Three!” “Two!” “One!”

Cheers erupt the moment the screen flashes midnight. Confetti pops, Jin shouts something unintelligible, and Hoseok practically jumps into Namjoon’s arms. Jungkook whoops loudly, pulling Taehyung into a hug, while Yoongi shakes his head, smiling despite himself.

Jimin turns you toward him, eyes shining. “Happy New Year, my love.”

Before you can reply, he kisses you—soft, unhurried, full of promises. The noise fades for a moment, the world narrowing down to the warmth of his lips and the certainty that this is where you belong.

“Happy New Year,” you whisper back, forehead resting against his.

Later, when the laughter settles into quieter conversations, you find yourself by the window. Fireworks bloom across the sky, painting the night in gold and red. Snow begins to fall, light and slow, catching in the glow of the city lights.

Jimin joins you, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders and pulling you close. You lean into him, watching Seoul welcome a new beginning.

“Do you ever think about how fast everything changes?” you ask softly.

He hums, thoughtful. “Yeah. But some things don’t.”

You look up at him. “Like what?”

He kisses your knuckles. “Us. This. Them.” He glances back at the room where the others laugh together. “No matter where we are.”

Your chest tightens with emotion. Another year ahead—uncertain, busy, unpredictable—but filled with love, friendship, and shared moments like this.

As fireworks light up the sky and the snow continues to fall, you make a silent wish. Not for fame or success or anything grand.

Christmas morning arrives quietly, wrapped in pale winter light slipping through the curtains. You wake to warmth—Jimin’s arm draped protectively around your waist, his breathing slow and even against your back. For a moment, you stay still, listening to the distant hush of the city and the faint hum of Seoul waking up on Christmas Day.

You turn carefully, brushing a kiss against his cheek. His eyes flutter open almost instantly, dark and bright with that familiar sparkle.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispers, voice still sleepy but full of affection.

“Merry Christmas,” you reply, smiling before either of you can stop yourselves from laughing softly.

The two of you sit up against the headboard, the small Christmas tree across the room glowing with warm lights. Beneath it, a few carefully wrapped gifts wait, and Jimin’s eyes flick toward them with excitement he doesn’t even try to hide.

“Can we?” he asks, already reaching.

You nod, and he hands you a small box first. Your fingers tremble slightly as you open it, revealing a delicate pendant resting on velvet. A tiny silver moon catches the light, soft and luminous.

“It reminded me of you,” Jimin says quietly. “Always calm… always watching over us.”

Your chest tightens as he leans forward to fasten it around your neck, his fingertips lingering just a second longer than necessary. You kiss him, slow and full, before reaching for his gift.

He opens the bag and freezes.

Inside is a soft onesie covered in tiny little mochis, smiling and pastel-colored. Jimin blinks once. Then twice.

“You—” he starts, then stops, his breath hitching as understanding dawns.

Before he can say another word, the doorbell rings.

You both freeze.

Jimin looks at you, eyes wide, his hand unconsciously finding yours. “Did we invite—?”

“I’ll check,” you say, heart pounding as you stand.

When you open the door, the quiet morning explodes into noise.

“SURPRISE!”

Jin is the first one through the door, arms wide, followed closely by Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jungkook, all bundled in coats and grins. The apartment fills instantly with laughter, warmth, and chaos.

“Wait, wait—look at his face,” Hoseok says, pointing at Jimin, who is still frozen behind you, onesie clutched to his chest.

Then Jungkook shouts, “It’s true?!”

And suddenly they’re all surrounding Jimin, cheers erupting like fireworks.

“Our mochi is having a mochi!” Jin declares dramatically.

Yoongi smiles softly. “Congratulations. Both of you.”

Namjoon’s eyes shine as he steps closer. “You’re going to be amazing parents.”

Jimin finally moves, laughter breaking through tears as he pulls you into his arms, pressing his forehead to yours while the room buzzes around you.

“Merry Christmas,” he whispers again, this time with awe, love, and a future unfolding in his voice.

The bedroom was quiet except for the soft rustle of sheets and the faint hum of the city outside. You were both getting ready for bed, the day’s exhaustion settling in your bones, but a lingering tension hung between you. Jimin moved around the room, tidying up and gathering his things, while you tried to calm the restless thoughts racing through your mind.

“I said we’re not going!” you shout, lying down in bed.

“Oh, we’re going! Whether you want to or not,” he responds, packing some clothes into a bag.

“No, we’re not,” you reply once again.

“I already called your eomma and halmeoni and told them we’re going, so you can’t back out now,” he reveals.

“You did what?” you question him, sitting up and looking directly at him.

“You heard me. Your halmeoni has the cottage prepared for us, and your eomma is organizing a dinner for our arrival,” he states, closing the bag.

“Damn it, Omega,” you growl, clenching your jaw. “The doctor recommended rest, and you know going to my home would be the last thing you will get. I may have to deal with pack problems and won’t be able to be at your side until past midnight. Remember the last weeks before I moved to the city? My Halmeoni only let me go if I could handle three weeks of pack issues, which meant barely seeing you every day.”

“Where are you going?” he asks, watching you head out the master bedroom door.

“I’m going to sleep on the couch because my inner wolf is furious,” you say, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. “I don’t want to hurt you,” you add lower, slamming the door behind you.

You set up a temporary bed on the couch with a blanket and pillow. You only resort to this when your inner wolf is too strong to control—about once every six months, but now more often since your Omega is pregnant with three pups, has made you more anxious, stressed, and sleep-deprived.

You were half-asleep when you hear and smell him approaching the living room. “Are you calmer now?” he asks.

“I don’t want to argue. It’s late, and you need to rest because you won’t once, we get there,” you say without opening your eyes, lying on your back with the blanket covering half your body, your left arm tucked beneath your head.

“I don’t want to fight either,” he responds, moving closer. “I just want to sleep with you.”

“You should have thought of that before making me angry. Go back to bed, Omega,” you say, feeling him at the edge of the couch.

“Stop calling me Omega,” he requests. “I want to sleep with you, and that’s exactly what I’ll do,” he adds, resting his head on your extended arm as a pillow.

Using the last bit of adrenaline in your system, you lift him using your body as support, cornering him at the back of the couch beside you. “Did you cry?”

“No,” he denies, hiding his face beneath yours—a clear sign he did.

“I’m sorry I made you cry, but I’m the one who needs to worry about your well-being and our pups’,” you say, stroking his back. “I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to any of you.”

He raises his gaze and places his left palm on your cheek. “We’re fine. The doctor said so at our last checkup. We’re fine,” he repeats, trying to reassure you. “So, stop worrying.”

Before you can respond, he kisses you, sliding his left hand behind your head to deepen the kiss while his right hand rests over your heart.

Your right-hand travels down his back to his thigh, guiding his leg over yours, while your left hand finds its way behind his head. Smiling into the kiss, you gain dominance, straddling him and lifting his t-shirt over his head before removing yours. You bend down to kiss him, using your forearms for support to avoid crushing his belly.

He pushes you back to the other end of the couch and begins removing your pants, exposing your erection. He moistens his lips, taking you inside his mouth.

“Fuck, Jimin,” you groan, pressing your pelvis into his throat.

After pleasuring you and leaving you ready, he stands, cleaning his mouth, and positions himself between your legs. “My turn on top,” he exclaims with a cocky smile.

Your hands immediately find his waist and butt, while his hands support him on your shoulders.

He lowers himself as you thrust upward. “Ah,” he exclaims in pleasure and pain, biting his lower lip to stifle moans.

“Are you alright?” you ask nervously, raising yourself to see him, afraid you’ve been too rough.

“Your bulb,” he pants, passing an arm behind your head and pulling you into a seated position. “It’s already swollen.”

You groan as his walls tighten around your clitoris. “And you’re so tight, shit,” you exclaim, resting your forehead against his cheek.

“Naughty Alpha, you were already horny,” he chuckles.

“Your scent drives me crazier since you’re pregnant,” you confess, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss while thrusting. A whine escapes him as you reach his sensitive shaft, shifting attention to his nipples. He arches his back at the stimulation.

“Alpha,” he moans, fingers tangled in your hair. “Faster,” he commands, releasing more of his scent.

Closing your eyes and growling low, you obey, quickening your pace. “I’m coming, Jiminah,” you warn him.

“Fill me up, Alpha,” he demands, kissing the sensitive spot behind your ear. Both of you release simultaneously. You collapse onto the couch, him over you, both panting.

“Alpha?”

“Mmhm,” you murmur, caressing his back.

“This doesn’t make me pregnant again, right?” he asks seriously.

You chuckle. “No, Jiminah.”

“Okay,” he responds, exhaling deeply.

You shift to lie side by side, covering both of you with the blanket, your right arm as a pillow for Jimin’s head. “I love you, Y/N,” he murmurs, sleepy, moving closer as far as his baby bump allows.

“I love you too, Jiminah,” you reply, draping your arm over his waist and kissing his forehead. “Get some rest,” you add, closing your eyes.

The quiet of the room wrapped around you both, broken only by the steady rhythm of his breathing. For a while, you drifted close to sleep, lulled by the warmth of his body pressed against yours. But sometime in the middle of the night, you felt him shift—first a faint movement of his leg brushing yours, then his hand tracing small, absent circles over your chest.

“What do you think you’re doing, Jiminah?”

“Nothing,” he responds with a naughty smile.

“Sure,” you say, knowing exactly what he intends. “Let’s go to bed,” moving to remove him.

“Please, Alpha, don’t yet,” he begs, pouting and giving you puppy eyes.

You sigh, helping both of you sit upright, arms resting on his thighs while he wraps his legs around your back. Standing, you guide him toward the master bedroom. “I know what you’re doing, Jiminah,” you remark, smelling his scent again.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Alpha,” he teases.

At the bed, you sit him down, still joined. “I should punish you and don't crave,” you declare, putting a finger over his mouth. “But I’ve been holding back all week, and I can’t anymore,” you add, capturing his lips in a heated, sloppy kiss.

You pull back, panting, admiring his flushed cheeks, wet lips, lust-filled eyes, and hard, dripping member. You move him against your chest and resume thrusting.

“Alpha,” he repeats with moans and whines.

Placing your right hand on his belly and your left on his right thigh, you lift his leg and rub your nose against his neck, marking him with your scent. “I can’t hold it,” you admit.

His left hand finds your cheek, turning your head to kiss you, biting lightly. “Don’t hold back, my Alpha,” he whispers, releasing his sweet orange scent that drives you wild.

—

The drive out of Seoul was quiet, the city lights gradually giving way to stretches of darkened fields and winding country roads. The air grew crisper with every kilometer, carrying the scent of pine and soil. Through the car windows, rolling hills unfolded like a painting, dotted with clusters of trees and sparkling streams that reflected the fading sunlight.

As you approached the outskirts, the dense forest gave way to cleared fields, with the main Alpha house appearing in the distance. The estate was expansive, the house large and imposing, built for both protection and comfort, with enough room to accommodate the pack and their daily activities. Next to it, along the right side and set slightly back, a smaller cottage peeked out—a perfect home for a small family, cozy yet sturdy, its facade aligned with the main house as if guarding it.

Jimin’s eyes widened as the car slowed down on the long, winding road leading to the estate. The forest framed the property like a natural wall, the shadows of the trees stretching across the road.

At the end of the driveway, standing at the edge of the road with a warm, welcoming smile, was your Halmeoni. She waved as the car approached, her presence grounding, a familiar sight after the long journey.

“We were expecting you earlier,” she said, standing on the entrance steps of the main house and watching you get out of the car to meet her.

“I’m sorry, Halmeoni,” you said, bowing to her. “I overslept.”

“It’s really my fault,” Jimin intervened, giving you a smile. “I wasn’t feeling well last night, and my Alpha took care of me,” he declared, making your cheeks flush—an action that didn't go unnoticed.

“I couldn’t keep my hands off your Harabeoji during his pregnancy either,” she affirmed to both of you, watching your cheeks turn even redder. “It’s completely normal, Y/N.”

“It’s not like that, Halmeoni,” you responded, averting your gaze from her. “I…”

“Nothing to be ashamed of, Y/N,” she said with a proud smile, looking at Jimin’s belly bump. “After all, you’re doing a good job, right, Jimin?”

“I have no complaints,” he announced, proud and happy, while caressing his belly.

“Oh, for God’s sake! Can we just go inside now?” you exclaimed as his response only made your cheeks more flushed. Both smiled at your discomfort.

Even though you were sex-educated about female Alphas and male Omegas in school and at home, it was still a sensitive topic for you. It felt like a private conversation you should only have with your Omega, especially when it was with your Halmeoni.

She nodded. “Your parents and Harabeoji are waiting for you in your appa’s study, as you requested,” she said, starting the walk to the main house door. “Everyone else is in the dining room,” she added before entering and disappearing toward the dining room.

You sighed. Jimin took your hand and squeezed it. “Calm down, everything will be fine,” he said, pecking your lips.

You nodded, making your way to your appa’s study not far from the entrance. You knocked on the door, which was opened by your Harabeoji. “You finally arrived!” he said, gesturing for you to enter.

“I’m sorry for making you wait,” you said, bowing to them while covering Jimin behind you.

“Halmeoni mentioned you have something to tell us?” your appa asked from his seat.

Turning your sight to Jimin, you said, “We do.” He took the cue to step to your side.

“We’re expecting pups!” you both announced.

“That’s great news!” your eomma exclaimed while walking to hug Jimin.

“Congrats, daughter!” your Appa said, patting your shoulder.

“How far along are you, Jimin?” your Harabeoji asked.

“A month” he replied, caressing his belly.

“How many pups?” your appa asked both of you.

“There are three,” you said proudly, raising your hand with three fingers. You turned to see Jimin, who looked at you and nodded. “We’ve decided that if we have a female alpha or a male omega, we’ll raise them here,” you announced to them.

“You know what it implies if you come back, right? Did you inform Jimin about it?” your harabeoji inquired.

“He knows,” you said, glancing at him. “And I’m willing to accept the conditions,” you assured him.

“Very well,” he exclaimed. “Let’s join the rest of the family for dinner,” he said, opening the door and starting the way to the dining room.

“And there they are,” the Alpha of the pack announced. “The future Alpha of our pack.”

“Halmeoni, don’t rush into it yet,” you said to your family members.

“Alright, but let me make the official announcement then,” she requested.

You turned to look at Jimin, who nodded in agreement. “You have our permission,” you said, taking a seat next to him.

Taking her glass and raising it, she said, “As the Alpha of this family and of this pack, I’m glad to announce that our first-born Alpha and her Omega are expecting!”

“Congratulations!” The well wishes of the family began to fill the room.

“And let me add,” she started, gathering everyone’s attention. “If they have a female Alpha or a male Omega, they will join our pack. This means Y/N will be taking the role as Alpha of our pack, her rightful heritage,” she finally announced with her glass raised.

A round of applause began, prompting you to stand from your chair and raise your own glass. “Thank you, Halmeoni,” you said, bowing to her. “And thank you all,” you added, raising your glass in a toast. “For family.”

“For family!” everyone cheered.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to Jimin as soon as you sat down, taking his hand in yours. “I didn’t know she would do that.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, smiling at you. “She would have done it sooner or later, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, but…”

“Y/N!” a voice you knew so well interrupted you.

“Lily!” you exclaimed, standing from your seat to hug her. “It’s been a while.”

“Yes, it has. I’m glad I came, so congratulations!”

“Thank you,” you said, extending your hand to Jimin. “But let me introduce you to the person who made this possible. Lily, this is my mate, Jimin.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said, extending her hand to him. “If it wasn’t for you, my cousin wouldn’t have settled down yet,” she asserted.

“I’m sure she has some suitors,” Jimin said, looking at you.

“Oh, believe me. She had, but she scares them all away,” Lily said.

“Lily,” you warned her, giving her a cold glance while wrapping your right arm around Jimin’s waist.

“I won’t say anything more,” she said with a smile, then whispered close to Jimin, “in front of her,” making you roll your eyes.

“Do you know where Damian went?” you questioned Lily, changing the subject.

She stopped smiling. “He left after Halmeoni finished the announcement.”

“Family,” your Halmeoni said, alluring everyone’s attention by bumping her glass. “Dinner is ready.”

—

You released a deep breath while opening the door, allowing Jimin to enter first. You watched him wander curiously around the room. “I thought that family dinner would never end.”

He turned to see you; arms crossed in front of his chest. “Why are we here and not in the cottage?” he asked, looking around the room with an angry and disappointed expression.

The navy-blue walls, with a height of 118 inches, made a striking contrast with the wooden furniture in the room. A king-size dark oak bed was the first thing you saw upon entering. A bureau with a simple lamp on each side of it stood against the wall. On the right, a matching desk was surrounded by a bookshelf filled with books, trophies, and precious trinkets that covered most of the wall. The wall ended just a few inches from a white door that led to a walk-in closet and then a white bathroom. On the left side, a 40-inch flat-screen TV was embedded in the wall, also surrounded by several shelves and a five-seat sofa with a chaise.

“I requested some modifications, and they haven’t finished yet,” you explained, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “I know it’s not the cottage you love, but you can make any changes you like to my old bedroom.”

“It’s your bedroom?” he asked, surprised, raising an eyebrow at you. “I wonder how many suitors have been here with you,” he inquired, standing in front of you.

You chuckled at his statement and pulled him close by his waist. “I can assure you, my Omega,” you said, with him now between your legs, “no one before or even after I met you has set foot in my bedroom.” You pecked his lips. “So, there’s no reason to be jealous,” you added with a playful smile.

Looking away from you, he pouted and denied, “I’m not.”

“Right,” you said, kissing his cheek, knowing the truth. “I’m going to take a shower. Want to join me?” you prompted him while he was still between your legs.

He shook his head. “I’ll try to rest. My back hurts,” he revealed, leaning his weight on you.

You began caressing his back. “In that case, let me prepare a bath for both of us,” you offered.

“That sounds lovely, my Alpha,” he said, pulling away from you to let you stand.

You took his hand to guide him to the bath, releasing it to turn on the faucet and adjust it to the right temperature. Then, you removed your clothes and entered the bathtub.

Jimin joined you, leaning on your chest with one of your hands intertwined while the other rested on the edge of the tub. His head rested on your left shoulder.

“I could get used to this,” he revealed in a sweet tone.

“To what exactly?” you hummed softly.

“You and me, together in this tub or in our room resting after a long day,” he admitted.

“I would love that too,” you said, now caressing his hand. “But remember, I will become The Alpha, and there will be days when I don’t make it to our bed or I won’t see you for a couple of days,” you revealed to him.

“I know,” he said, moving to sit in front of you and resting his hands around your neck. “But promise me that you will always find a way back to me, to our pups,” he requested.

“I,” you said, placing a kiss on his lips, “promise.” You kissed his neck and then his mark on his left shoulder before setting your gaze and your right hand on his belly “and them.” As soon as your palm was set over it, you felt them move underneath. “They moved!” you announced, excited and glancing back at Jimin.

“They did,” he said, placing his left hand over yours. “Your link with them should appear soon,” he informed you.

“It has been since the moment you got pregnant,” you confessed to him. “That’s why I was so worried about you and them,” you said, your sight focused on his belly. “Right, pups?” And as if to answer, you could feel them move under your palm.

He chuckled. “They’re such mommy’s pups.”

“Don’t be jealous, Jimin, they love you too, right?” a new movement was made. “See?” you said, raising your sight to him with a big smile on your face.

“I love you too, pups,” he said, resting his forehead on yours. “And I love you,” he added, pecking your lips.

“I love you, Jimin,” you responded, closing your eyes. “And because of that, I need you to promise me something.”

“What is it?” he questioned, intrigued.

“For our pups, but more for my own sake. Don’t wander alone. Always have someone with you,” you requested seriously. “If it’s not me, my eomma, my harabeoji, my appa, my halmeoni, it doesn’t matter who,” you added.

Christmas Eve always seems to slow time, and tonight is no exception. You’re sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, surrounded by a constellation of ornaments, ribbons, and half-empty boxes that smell faintly of pine and cardboard. The Christmas tree stands tall in the corner, its branches glowing softly with warm white lights, waiting to be finished. Somewhere in the background, a quiet carol hums from the speakers, blending with the sound of the city outside your apartment.

Jimin kneels beside you, carefully holding a fragile ornament between his fingers as if it were made of glass memories rather than glass itself. He smiles at you, that familiar smile that still makes your heart flutter even after all these years of being married. “This one goes higher,” he says gently, reaching up to place it on a branch just out of your reach.

“You just want an excuse to show off,” you tease, handing him another ornament. He laughs, that soft, airy laugh that fills the room with warmth, and you realize how lucky you are to have moments like this—quiet, ordinary, and perfect.

You work together in an easy rhythm. You adjust the garlands while he straightens the lights. Occasionally, your hands brush, and each time it feels intentional, like a reminder that love lives in the smallest gestures. The tree slowly comes alive, each ornament telling a story: trips you’ve taken, gifts from family and handmade decorations from earlier years.

When you finally step back, the tree is complete. It glows proudly, reflecting bits of gold and red onto the walls. You let out a satisfied sigh and drop onto the couch, tucking your legs beneath you. Jimin joins you, slipping an arm around your shoulders as you admire your work.

Something outside catches your eye.

You rise slowly and walk toward the window, drawn by a quiet magic you didn’t notice before. Snow. Soft, delicate flakes drift down from the night sky, turning the city into something out of a dream. The streetlights below glow dimly as white begins to blanket everything, transforming familiar streets into something new and sacred.

As you watch, your reflection appears in the glass. You see yourself framed by the Christmas lights behind you, colors shimmering around your silhouette. For a moment, you don’t move. You just breathe it in—this version of yourself, standing in a warm apartment on Christmas Eve, loved and safe.

Then you feel him.

Jimin wraps his arms around you from behind, pulling you gently against his chest. His chin rests on your shoulder, and together you watch the snow fall in silence. His warmth seeps into you, grounding you, reminding you that this moment is real.

“It’s snowing,” you whisper, even though he already knows.

“I know,” he replies softly. “It always feels different on Christmas Eve.”

You lean back into him, placing your hands over his. Outside, the snow keeps falling, unbothered by time, by plans, by the future. Inside, everything feels exactly where it’s meant to be.

After a while, Jimin shifts slightly, his voice turning serious in that quiet way he has when something truly matters to him. “I want to promise you something,” he says.

You turn just enough to look at him, curious.

“No matter where we are,” he continues, “I’ll always try to be with you on Christmas Eve. Whether it’s here, in our apartment… or celebrating with your family… or with ours.” He tightens his embrace. “Even if things get complicated. Even if life gets loud.”

Your chest aches in the best way.

“I can’t promise perfection,” he adds, almost shyly. “But I promise effort. I promise presence.”

You turn fully in his arms now, resting your forehead against his. The lights from the tree flicker around you, and the snow continues its quiet dance outside the window.

“That’s all I want,” you say honestly.

The city feels different at night—softer somehow, as if Seoul is letting out a quiet sigh after a long day. The streets around Myeongdong glow with warm light, signs flickering and music drifting faintly from shops still open. You walk beside Jimin, your hands brushing every now and then, neither of you fully committing to holding hands but never pulling away either. It’s a delicate sort of closeness, familiar yet still fluttery.

Jimin’s hood is pulled over his hair, cheeks flushed from the cold as he sips on a hot chocolate you insisted on buying for him. “You’re going to steal this,” he says, raising a brow.

“I would never,” you answer, immediately reaching for the cup. He laughs, giving it to you without a fight. “That’s what I thought.”

The air is crisp, the breath between you two turning white. You tilt your head back, staring up at the dark blue sky. “It feels like it might snow tonight.”

Jimin glances up too. “It’s cold enough,” he agrees, bumping your shoulder with his. “Maybe you’ll get lucky.”

“Me?”

“Mm. I have good luck,” he says, tapping his cheek playfully. “If you’re with me, you might get some of it.”

The night hums around you—vendors closing their carts, the faint laughter of late-night shoppers, the quiet rhythm of your footsteps. You’re talking about nothing and everything when Jimin stops abruptly, his hand landing gently on your arm.

“Look.”

You follow his gaze upward. A single white flake drifts down, then another, then dozens more. Snow begins to fall slowly, softly, like the sky is deciding to whisper instead of shout.

Your breath catches. “It’s the first snow.”

“Mhm.” Jimin smiles, eyes glimmering under the streetlights. “Do you know what the first snow means?”

You shake your head, watching the snow gather on his hair. He steps closer, the space between you shrinking until the cold can’t fit there anymore.

“In Korea,” he begins softly, “there’s a saying. If you spend the first snowfall with someone you like… then it means the two of you are meant to be. That your feelings are real.” He pauses, his gaze lowering for a second as if he’s gathering courage. “Some people say it’s a kind of promise from the sky.”

Your heart thumps so loudly you’re sure he hears it. The snow keeps falling around you, catching in your lashes, melting on your lips. “A promise?” you whisper.

Jimin nods. “Yeah. And I… I want to make one with you.”

Before you can speak, he takes your hand—really takes it this time, fingers threading through yours with a certainty that makes your chest squeeze. He brings your joined hands close to his chest, right over the steady beat of his heart.

“Y/N,” he says, voice low and warm, “I like you. A lot more than I planned to. And I’ve been trying to find the right moment to tell you, but… I think the sky chose it for me.” He lets out a shy breath. “If this really means we’re meant to be, then… I want to do it right.”

Your lips part, but nothing comes out. The snowfall thickens, wrapping the two of you in a world that feels quiet and suspended.

“I promise,” Jimin whispers, squeezing your hand, “that I’ll stay by your side. Not just tonight. Not just because of the first snow. But because I want to. Because you matter to me.”

Your chest fills with warmth so strong it pushes tears to your eyes. You step closer, your forehead just barely brushing his. “Jimin,” you breathe, “I like you too.”

His smile is slow, soft, and glowing.

You wake up to the soft hum of Seoul traffic drifting through the apartment window and the warm weight of Jimin’s arm snug around your waist. It’s your first Thanksgiving as a married couple, and even though you’re far from where the holiday is traditionally celebrated, you insisted on bringing it to your home—because Thanksgiving, you told Jimin, is about sharing.

And what better way to celebrate than with the boys who have become your family?

By late morning, the apartment is already buzzing with activity. Jin arrives first, letting himself in with a dramatic sigh. “You’re lucky I love you both,” he says, holding two bags of ingredients as if he’s rescuing the entire holiday single-handedly. You laugh and hug him before pointing him toward the kitchen.

Suga follows soon after, hands in his pockets, eyes half-asleep. “I was promised food,” he mumbles. “You were also promised work,” you remind him. He groans but steps into the kitchen anyway, rolling up his sleeves with reluctant determination.

Jimin kisses your cheek as he passes by with a bowl. “They’ll listen to you more than me,” he jokes, but he’s buzzing with excitement, every movement light and full of warmth.

The kitchen becomes a symphony of clinking pans, sizzling sounds, and Jin’s half-serious scolding every time Yoongi tries to sneak a taste. “It’s for the table!” Jin snaps. “It’s quality control,” Yoongi counters, scooping up mashed potatoes anyway.

You’re chopping vegetables when Jimin slips behind you, arms wrapping around your waist. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he murmurs. “Tell me that after the turkey doesn’t burn.” “With Jin here? It will survive.”

Meanwhile, Taehyung and Jungkook show up together, to no one’s surprise, both wrapped in scarves and complaining dramatically about the cold. “We brought vibes,” Tae declares. “And muscle,” Jungkook adds, flexing unnecessarily.

You send them to set the table before their chaos infiltrates the kitchen. Taehyung, of course, organizes the plates according to “aesthetic flow,” while Jungkook tries to fold the napkins into little turkeys he saw online. Half of them end up looking like confused pigeons, but his grin is so proud you don’t have the heart to correct him.

When Namjoon and Hobi arrive, the apartment finally feels full. Hobi immediately showers the room with sunshine, complimenting the decorations, the smells, and even Yoongi’s apron. Namjoon offers to help but is promptly shooed away from anything breakable—so he settles on arranging the drinks.

By the time everything is ready, the dining table looks like a warm, glowing portrait. The plates—some elegant, some pigeon-like—sit between candles, autumn-themed decorations, and a centerpiece Jimin made with more glitter than necessary.

Everyone gathers around, chatter bubbling like a warm pot of soup. You take your seat beside Jimin, whose fingers find yours beneath the table. When the conversations soften and the dishes are passed around, Jimin taps his glass lightly.

“Before we eat,” he says, smiling at you first, “Y/N worked so hard to bring a little piece of their tradition here. And I think we’re all grateful—not just for the food, but for having each other.”

Warmth spreads through your chest, soft and steady. You glance around at the people who have filled your life with laughter, comfort, and chaos, and you feel something settle in you—a quiet, content certainty.

This is family.

You’re halfway across the city when your phone buzzes.

At first you think it’s just another notification, maybe a message from Jimin telling you he’s done rehearsing. But when you glance at the screen, you see the little purple icon blinking—Jimin and Namjoon have just started a live.

Your eyebrows lift, and without even thinking, you tap in.

The screen opens to a wide shot of the HYBE practice room. There’s Namjoon sitting on the floor pretending he’s not tired, and right beside him, Jimin—your Jimin—glowing with that mix of mischief and softness he wears whenever he’s with a member he loves. He leans closer to the camera, teasing Namjoon about something you didn’t quite catch.

You’re still on the bus, rocking slightly with each turn, but suddenly it feels like you’re right there with them.

They laugh—loud, genuine, contagious. Namjoon wipes sweat from his face. Jimin talks with his hands, brushing hair from his forehead as he jokes about how hard practice has been.

You smile so wide a stranger across from you smiles back.

You had planned something simple today. Picking him up, offering to take him out to eat—just the two of you. He’d been working so hard, disappearing into the studio for hours, and you wanted to show up for him the way he always does for you.

But watching him on the live, watching how at ease he is, how much he shines even when he’s tired—your heart softens even more.

He deserves this surprise, you think. He deserves someone who shows up.

As the bus gets closer to HYBE, you follow the live the whole way. You watch Jimin laugh at Namjoon’s clumsy attempt to do a part of the choreography. You watch Namjoon tease him for being dramatic. And every time Jimin leans forward, face close to the screen, you feel that small flutter in your chest—the one that reminds you why you love him so much.

The live is nearly ending when you step off the bus and walk toward the building. You make sure your face isn’t showing on the security cameras—no spoilers. Your steps are quiet, almost bouncy with excitement. You reach the elevator, your finger tapping anxiously as it rises floor by floor.

By the time you reach the practice room hallway, the live has ended.

Perfect timing.

You crack the door open just enough to slip inside. They haven’t noticed—Namjoon is grabbing his water bottle, and Jimin is still kneeling in front of his phone, adjusting something on the screen as if he isn’t entirely ready to let the live go.

You step forward quietly. Softly. Lovingly.

The floor doesn’t squeak. Your footsteps are almost silent. He’s still focused on his phone—head bowed, hair falling over his forehead, neck exposed, shoulders relaxed after laughing so much.

You don’t say a single word.

You simply slide your arms around him from behind.

Jimin gasps—just a soft one—and his whole body freezes before melting instantly against yours.

“Y/N?” His voice is breathless, warm. You feel his hands reach for yours, fingers brushing along your arms as if he needs to confirm you’re real. “What—when did you get here?”

Namjoon turns, eyes widening. “Ah—Y/N! You scared me, I thought a ghost came in.”

You laugh quietly, but you don’t let go of Jimin. “I got here just now. You two looked like you were having fun.”

He leans back into you just a little, the way he only does when he’s really happy. “You were watching?”

“The whole time.”

At that, he hides his smile behind his hand, embarrassed but glowing. “Aish… I wish I’d known.”

“No,” you whisper, tightening your hold, “I liked seeing you like that. Happy.”

Namjoon grabs his stuff with a knowing smirk. “Alright, lovebirds. I’ll leave you to it.”

As the door closes behind him, Jimin finally stands, turning in your arms so he can hug you properly—tight, long, full-bodied, like he’s been waiting all day.

“What are you doing here?” he murmurs against your shoulder.

You tilt your head, smiling. “Picking you up. And asking if you want to go out to eat with me.”

His eyes soften completely. “Of course I do.”

He takes your hand, interlacing your fingers as if it’s the easiest decision in the world.

“Let’s go,” he says, cheeks pink, smile tender. “I’m yours for the rest of the night.”

< Previous Chapter

“Are you sure you want to do this now? You weren’t feeling well—we should be back at home,” you tell him softly at the door of his parents’ house.

“I’m fine now, just a little tired. I took my pills, and you’re with me,” he answers, knocking on the door.

You shoot him a doubtful glance, but before you can insist, the door opens.

“You finally arrived, Hyung and Noona! Everyone’s already here,” Jungkook, the youngest of the five brothers, says brightly, stepping aside to let you in.

“You arrived just in time for dinner,” Seokjin announces once he sees you.

“I’m sorry, eomma. We should have been here earlier, but I wasn’t feeling well,” Jimin apologizes.

“But you’re alright now, right?” Namjoon, already seated at the table with the rest of the family, asks with a worried frown.

“Yes,” Jimin replies, heading toward the kitchen to help Seokjin.

“I’ll help eomma,” you offer, gently catching Jimin’s hand and guiding him toward a chair. “Please, sit.”

Before he can protest, a warm hand pats your shoulder. “I’ll help eomma, noona,” Taehyung volunteers with a smile. “You stay with Jimin-hyung.”

“Thank you, Tae,” you respond, doing exactly as he suggests.

You glance around the table: Namjoon sits at the head as the Alpha of the family, with an empty seat at his right—reserved for Seokjin, the Alpha’s Omega. Next to them are Yoongi and Hoseok, both Betas, side by side. You take the opposite head of the table with Jimin beside you. The next seat is Taehyung’s, Jimin’s “twin”—not by birth, but so close in age it might as well be. Finally, on Namjoon’s left, sits Jungkook, the youngest and the family’s only other Alpha.

“Let’s eat,” Seokjin exclaims, setting the last plate of food before taking his seat.

“Thank you for the food,” everyone echoes, digging in once eomma and appa begin.

Later, while everyone relaxes in the living room, you can’t keep your senses from focusing on Jimin. The moment he perches on the armrest of the couch, you slip an arm around his waist and unconsciously begin to rub his belly.

“You two have something to tell us?” Seokjin asks, his sharp eyes catching your gesture.

“We do,” Jimin admits, laying his hand over yours as his smile blooms. “We’re expecting pups.”

“Finally—I’m getting grandchildren!” Seokjin squeals, rushing to hug Jimin.

“Pups?!” Namjoon repeats, surprised.

“Yeah… three,” you say, unable to hide your pride.

“Wow,” Hoseok whistles with a smirk in your direction. “You two don’t waste any time.”

“Congrats, noona and hyung!” Taehyung and Jungkook chime together.

“It was unexpected, but not unwanted,” you add, though your eyes are on Jimin more than the rest. Pulling him closer until he’s leaning against you, you whisper softly in his ear, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Y/N,” he murmurs, kissing your lips before turning back to his parents. “We’ve also decided… if any of the pups are like us, we’ll move to Y/N’s pack to raise them.”

Seokjin crosses his arms and fixes you with a sharp look. “You didn’t use your Alpha command on him, did you?”

“No,” you answer firmly. “I would never do that to him, and you know it, eomma. I want the best for our family. If Jimin believes joining my pack is best, I’ll support it.” Your voice softens as Jimin slips into your lap, his arm over your shoulder. “We won’t move until the pregnancy is over, and all of them are strong enough to travel—even if it’s only a few hours’ drive.”

Namjoon studies you carefully before his expression breaks into a smile, dimples showing. “You two will give them the best chance. I’m very glad you decided this, Jimin-ah.”

“Thank you, appa,” Jimin replies with the same dimpled smile, leaning his head against your shoulder.

You kiss his forehead. “I think it’s time to go,” you murmur, though he makes no move to stand.

“It’s already past midnight,” Seokjin interrupts gently. “Take him to the guest room. I’ll worry less if you stay the night.”

You nod and turn to Jimin. “Do you want to stay?” you whisper, knowing he’s half-asleep. He nods faintly.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed.” Scooping him into your arms, you carry him to the guest room.

He stirs when you lay him down. “Where are you going?”

“To the living room—to drink with your brothers,” you explain.

A pout forms on his lips. “Stay with me, Alpha. Just until I fall asleep.”

You sigh, knowing once you lie down, you won’t be leaving. “Let me tell them I won’t be drinking.”

“It’s fine, noona—we’re heading to bed too,” Taehyung calls from the hallway.

“Alright. Goodnight,” you reply before slipping under the blankets beside Jimin. “Your parents must be happy—everyone’s staying tonight.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles sleepily, cuddling against you. His face nuzzles into your neck, his arm draped across your chest, leg tangled with yours.

“Sweet dreams, Jimin-ah. Sweet dreams, pups,” you whisper, releasing a soft wave of your scent to soothe him.

————————————————————————

He shifts, his hand sliding down your stomach until you catch his wrist. “We’re in your parents’ house, Omega,” you warn.

“I was just trying to wake you up, Alpha,” he says innocently.

“I’m awake now,” you answer, opening your eyes to meet his. “You could’ve just said my name.”

He leans closer, whispering in a husky tone, “Like this, Alpha?” The sound sends a shiver down your spine.

“Jimin-ah…” you warn again, holding yourself back. You know if you give in, he’ll regret it tomorrow, unable to face his parents and brothers after making too much noise.

“We already did it once here,” he reminds, climbing into your lap.

“Yes, but we were alone, and your heat came early,” you counter, pinning him back to the bed. “For your own good, stop.”

“But Alpha… I want you,” he pouts.

You kiss him, pulling away just an inch from his lips. “Then you’ll have to be quiet.”

“I will,” he promises, kissing you again before licking his lips with a playful grin. “Chocolate.”

“What?” you blink at him.

“I’m craving chocolate. Can you get me some?” he asks, biting his lower lip, eyes wide with innocence.

You chuckle, standing up. “Do you want anything else?”

He shakes his head quickly. “No.”

You smile at his antics and head to the kitchen, but after searching every cabinet, you sigh in frustration.

“What are you doing, noona?” Jungkook asks from the doorway.

“Jimin’s craving chocolate, and I can’t find any. I’ll need to run out and buy some,” you admit.

“Wait!” Jungkook dashes to his room and returns with an armful of chocolate bars. “Here. Take these to hyung.”

“With one would be enough, JK—”

“No, noona. Take them all,” he insists, piling them into your arms.

You laugh softly. “Alright. We’ll bring you more next time.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just take them—hyung must be hungry,” he says warmly.

“Thanks,” you tell him before heading back to the guest room. “Jimin-ah,” you call softly as you push open the door—only to find him already asleep, hugging your pillow tightly.

You set the chocolates on the bedside table, smile tenderly, and slide under the blanket beside him. “Goodnight, Jimin,” you whisper, kissing his forehead and pulling the covers up around him.

You wake before the sun, the room still wrapped in the pale blue quiet of early morning. Your alarm buzzes only once before you silence it; the last thing you want is to disturb the peaceful shape curled beside you. Jimin sleeps on his stomach, one arm crushed under his pillow, hair a soft mess against his forehead. Even in the dim light, he looks angelic—far too beautiful for a human who claims he “wakes up ugly.”

You smile, brushing a hand over his bare shoulder. He doesn’t stir. Good. You need to be out the door soon.

You slip out of bed, moving through your apartment with practiced silence. The kitchen hums faintly as you turn on the lights, pulling ingredients from the fridge: eggs, rice, a few vegetables you chopped last night. If you have to leave before him again, at least he won’t start his day on an empty stomach.

As the rice sizzles in the pan, you steal glances toward the hallway. There’s still no movement. You imagine him waking up to the sound of your cooking, shuffling in with half-open eyes, voice rough with sleep as he asks, “Where are you going this early?” But today he’s exhausted from dance practice, so you let him rest.

When breakfast is done—his favorite fried rice with a soft egg on top—you place it on the counter, neatly arranged with chopsticks and a cup of warm tea. You grab a small notepad from the drawer, the one he always teases you for keeping but secretly loves because it means he gets tiny notes from you.

Jiminie, you write, I had to leave early today. Eat well, please. I’ll be home for lunch—don’t overdo it in practice. I mean it. Love you. You add a tiny heart in the corner, because he’ll smile at it even if he pretends not to.

By the time you’re slipping on your coat, you glance toward the bedroom again. Still quiet. You almost walk in just to kiss him goodbye, but you stop yourself. If you do, he’ll wake up and cling to you, insisting you stay five more minutes… which always turn into twenty.

So you leave quietly, closing the door with a soft click.

Work is a blur. Meetings, emails, rushing from one task to the next—time feels like it folds in on itself until suddenly it’s close to noon. You stretch at your desk, thinking of home, wondering if he listened to your note or if he trained until his legs burned again. Knowing him… probably the second.

You hurry home.

The moment you open the door, you smell something warm. Something sweet.

“Welcome home, jagiya,” Jimin calls from the kitchen.

You blink. “You’re… here?”

He steps out with oven mitts on, hair slightly messy from the heat, cheeks pink. “Of course. You said you’d be here for lunch. I wanted to make something for you this time.”

Your chest squeezes at the sight of him—your soft, stubborn husband.

“You didn’t overdo it, right?” you ask immediately.

He laughs, moving closer. “I promised I wouldn’t. I ate your breakfast, too. It was amazing. And…” He lifts your note from the counter, folded neatly. “This helped.”

You feel his arms circle your waist, pulling you in until your forehead rests against his collarbone. His voice softens. “I missed you this morning.”

“I missed you too,” you whisper.

He kisses the top of your head, slow and warm. “Come on. Lunch is ready.”