#keripost

You urged the injured body into one of the open beds. He was placed there as gently as possible with one hand. The man groaned and muttered a curse, pain wrapping and squeezing around his pretty features.

You didn’t waste a second more, your role of doctor slipping to the forefront easily.

“What’s your name?” You asked.

There was a moment of silence, a pause where you wondered whether you’d actually get anything, before an answer came as given through gritted teeth. “Wooyoung.”

“Nice to meet you, Wooyoung-sshi,” you replied. “Let’s have a look.”

You brushed hands out of the way to look at the wound.

Gunshot to the abdomen.

You called to the nurses, asking for scissors and a drip of anaesthetic.

“No drugs,” Wooyoung spat out.

You objected, “you’re in pain and I can’t just-“

“No drugs,” the second man repeated, firm.

Stubborn you thought but obliged. You had to cut the shirt free from the wound, angled the man’s body so you could look for an exit wound. Thankful you found it.

“Went right through,” you told him, “no vital organs pierced. No surgery needed.”

“Lucky me,” Wooyoung mocked, and let out another litany of curses that would have made you blush in any other situation.

You ignored him, and worked quickly, efficiently. You applied pressure, wrapped the wound and then covered that with a medical grade plaster. Wooyoung, for his credit, grit his teeth and tried to stay still. He took the pain well, like he was used to it.

“It’ll still hurt like a bitch,” you told him, honest because you figured they’d want that. Your eyes flickered to the second man. His gun hand had lowered ever so slightly, even as he watched your every move. “You should change the bandage every 3 hours for the next 24 hours. Then every 8 hours for the next 72. I’d recommend bed rest.”

“Fuck that,” Wooyoung was already moving to stand, swinging his legs off the side of the bed, even as you and his friend made noises of objection. “Get me out of here,” he insisted.

“No offence taken,” you murmured.

Wooyoung smirked, despite the pain. “It’s not you pretty,” his tongue seemed to wrap around the word, “just don’t like hospitals.”

You shouldn’t have but you blushed at the unexpected compliment. You dropped your gaze, taking a moment to reset yourself, to squash the wildly unprofessional whirl in your chest, before raising them again. “Try not to get shot next time.”

The second man snorted, the first sign that panic that lost its chokehold on him. You watched as Wooyoung’s arm was shoved over the man’s shoulders, keeping him up, one hand curling around his waist.

“Thank you,” he offered, stiffly, like the words were alien to him.

You couldn’t help but huff your laughter. “It’s my job,” you reminded, “I would have done it with or without threats.”

One of the other patients resting on the ward had called the police. They arrived in a whirl of lights not long after the two men had left, slipping into an unmarked car and leaving way over the speed limit. You spoke the uniformed officer calmly, shared vague details - one taller, one shorter. Dark hair, dark eyes. Black car - I don’t recognise car types, sorry.

You didn’t mention the distinct moles beneath Wooyoung’s blood splattered face, or the bruising on his friend’s knuckles. You didn’t mention the tattoo, bold thick lines that curved along his rib cage, distinctive, that you found under Wooyoung’s shirt just above his gunshot wound, even though you knew what it meant.

You’d seen others with the same mark before. An hour glass, sand slipping forever down an expanse of skin. Not surprising. The trauma department was bound to get a handful of gang related injuries over its time. Your hospital was no different.

You merely removed your bloody gloves, and got a fresh pair for the next patient. There was always another patient.

You didn’t expect to see any of them again, at least not any time soon. So it was a surprise when, nearly 10 days later, a car with blacked out windows slowed to a crawl beside you.

You had just finished a long shift, your body aching in the worst ways as exhaustion settled firmly into your bones. The roll of the wheels over the tarmac, the very obvious fact that the driver had slowed for you, should have made you tense, made you walk a little bit faster.

Should have.

But it didn’t.

You recognised the car. The shaded window on the driver’s side rolled down and you definitely remembered the face there. It was smooth now, just as handsome as you thought without the blood splatter, and lips curled up with knowing satisfaction.

“Hey doc,” he curled the words around his tongue, giving you a mocking two fingered salute.

“Do you often pull up to people like this?” You asked. Your fingers flexed around the strap of your bag.

“Only the pretty ones,” he was quick with his reply.

You hummed, unconvinced but amused. “How’s Wooyoung?”

“You remembered his name,” he sounded pleased.

“Hard to forgot people who pull a gun on me,” you reminded, “really sticks in the memory.”

Much to your surprise, he actually looked bashful at the reminder. He didn’t apologise, of course, but it was a moment that took you back to how he had looked that night. Pained and terrified, so very human. Perhaps it was that which made you linger, had you pushing, “so how is he?”

“Complaining, as usual,” the man rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

The corner of your lips twitched into a ghost of a smile. You’d only known Wooyoung for a short time and yet that didn’t sound out of character.

The driver considered you for a moment before nodding, as if coming to a conclusion. He angled his thumb to gesture beside him. “Get in,” he ordered.

You arched an eyebrow. You might have laughed if you were’t so surprised. “Get in?” You repeated, “I don’t even know your name.”

“San,” he offered. “Now you do. Get in.”

You hesitated, self-preservation kicking in for the first time, finally. You knew they were gang affiliated at least, and your mind ran through all the reasons why they would be interested in you. Does this count as a kidnapping? You wondered. It was less dramatic than it appeared in movies but perhaps just as terrifying, the unknown threat pressing in.

While you panicked, San’s smile widened in amusement. It made his eyes squeeze together, like a smug cat. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he teased, “I have a…friend in need. Can’t be taken to the hospital.”

You don’t even want to ask why they can’t be. You don’t want to know. But the doctor in you, the one who wanted to help everyone, wavered. “In need?”

“With or without threats right?” San echoed back what you had said back then, and something said he very easily could lean into threats, if you so chose.

It didn’t really leave you with a choice, did it? So against your better judgement, you walked around to the passenger side of the car, opened the door and slide into plush leather seats. San was leaning back in his seat, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the lowered window. He watched as you tried to get comfortable in the chair, hands shaking a little as you reached for the seatbelt.

You jumped when he moved, fingers slipping around the belt, the tips brushing your own. “Let me,” he murmured. Your breath caught, heart pounding harder, as he took over, clicking the buckle into place.

Even when he moved away, you were dazed.

San didn’t even look phased. He rubbed his thumb over his bottom lip thoughtfully, before clicking the button to wind up the window. Now closed, it muffled the outside world and you felt like you could float away - or sink.

“Open the glove box,” he instructed. He waited, collected, even as you scrambled to follow the instruction.

The glove box had two things - a gun and a blindfold.

Your eyes darted away. A stupid, stupid idea, you had cursed yourself.

“Blindfold,” San pointed. “Put it on. Can’t just give you our address, right?”

He laughed in amusement. You thought about bolting from the car, running as fast as your tired legs could carry you until you reached the safety of your home and the security lock. One look at San though told you that, if you tried, you wouldn’t make it that far.

So you did as you were told. It was a sleep mask, pretty basic but effective. You jumped when San’s fingers brushed your ears as he adjusted the mask to fit more comfortably.

“It won’t be long, I promise,” he said cheerfully. As if that was reassuring to you in anyway.

It was probably 20 minutes at most, but with your vision impaired and your heart beating in fear for your life, it might as well have been hours. You could feel the rumble of the high power engine under your thighs; hear the honking of cars on the road beyond; smell San’s cologne as it clung to every inch of this vehicle. San hummed as he drove, tapped his fingers against the steering wheel.

It was probably ridiculously common for him to have a blindfolded woman in his passengers seat, you reasoned.

Slowly, the outside sounds drifted away, leaving only the car and San to keep you grounded.

When the car stopped, you held your breath. When San touched your face, you let out a sharp yell. Over the pounding in your ears, he was chuckling. “Calm down doc,” he soothed, “We’re here.”

You bit down on your tongue to stop the string of curses you wanted to let out. He must have seen it on your face because, once you were able to see again, he was grinning like he would love nothing more. He pressed the buckle on your seat belt, and then leant over, his brown eyes never wavering from yours, to push open the passenger side door. “Come on doc.”

Then he was pulling away, climbing out the car, and you needed to calm your racing heart for a separate reason.

The building he had brought you to was unassuming. Just an old church, sturdy in its stance, and clearly used if the cars surrounding you were anything to go by. San had pulled the car around the back, behind high brick walls. From the front, it was unlikely anyone could tell it was occupied. Made sense, you reasoned, even the sacrilegious nature of using a church as a criminal safe house added an additionally layer of secrecy.

Because that’s what it was. When San let you in, hands gesturing you in before him, you noticed how the building had been renovated as a living space. The walls were the same brick as the outside and no doubt did not keep the warmth in during the winter, but there were more modern doorways, new walls put in to section off the space better. It could have been just any other converted building.

The door closed behind you followed by a turn of the lock, and you remembered it very much wasn’t.

San stepped around you, arm brushing against your own. He angled his head. “This way. Take your shoes off.”

You could only follow his instructions, toeing off the simple white sneakers you wore, before falling into step behind him on sock clad feet. It felt strange, oddly vulnerable, more so than you had at any other point in the day.

You were led upstairs, onto a landing with multiple doors. Home for multiple people, you considered. San went to the first one, knocked firmly before pushing it open with the words, “I brought doc.”

Doc. Like there was no other one.

A voice inside replied. “Good, I’m getting tired of Mingi’s bitching.”

Another voice - Mingi, you guessed - made a noise of objection. “I’m not bitching. I can’t breathe.”

“Breathing enough to talk,” San shot back, but he was smiling, like this was a usual occurrence. He looked back at you then, eyebrow arched and gestured towards the room, the command silent.

You worried your lip for a moment, before you steeled yourself. Use your trauma brain, you told yourself.

The room itself was well lived in, cluttered with life and memories that felt way too personal for someone you knew was a criminal. On the bed, pressed up against one of the walls, was a person, legs long, hands clutching his side, face screwed up in pain. You could already see the hesitant way that they were breathing, as if too deep a breath would destroy them. Mingi. The person next to them looked unimpressed, hair dyed blonde, arms folded across his chest. Objectively, they were pretty. Incredibly so, just like Wooyoung and San, and you wondered if attractive and dangerous was just your type.

Their eyes went to you immediately, snapped into place and you were suddenly on display. You stopped short of entering the room.

“That her?” the blonde asked.

San hummed. “Go on doc, do your stuff.”

You approached the bed like one might approach a dangerous animal - cautious, fingers out splayed in front of you, making steady eye contact. Mingi watched you back.

It was easy to fall into professional mode. You introduced yourself quietly and asked if it was okay to touch him.

“If you’re having trouble breathing,” you murmured, “I’ll need to check your chest cavity.”

Mingi waited a moment as if considering rejecting before he nodded, short and sharp. He felt warm under your hands, as you carefully lifted the edge of his jumper baring an expanse of scarred skin. You barely considered it, dutifully focusing on the task at hand. Your fingers pressed along his clavicle, down his sternum, along the bottom of his ribs -

Mingi bit back a curse.

Your fingers lightened as you followed the path along his ribs. Mingi didn’t hold back the next curse and you pulled back.

“Normally,” you said lightly, “I’d ask for the cause of injury, but I have a feeling I don’t want to know right?”

“Smart,” the blonde nodded.

You turned back to Mingi. “You’ve got an injury to your ribs, could be bruised, could be fractured,” you explained carefully, “I can’t know for sure unless we do an x-ray and since that’s off the table, you’ll need to keep them bandaged and take a shit ton of painkillers.”

San arched an eyebrow. “Is shit ton a medical term?”

Your lips quirked into a smile but didn’t answer.

The blonde tapped Mingi’s leg. “See, not dying. Stop bitching and take a Tylenol.” Then he turned back to you, eyes dragging over you from top to bottom, assessing. “I’m Seonghwa.”

“He’s second in command,” San filled in. You didn’t know who the first in command was but you did know that this man looked like he thrived on being in control.

“Big boss is away,” Seonghwa added, “thank you for your help. San said you patched up Wooyoung.”

“It’s my job,” you replied, irritated that you were flushed under such basic praise.

Seonghwa’s lips twitched at the corner, amused. “A job you didn’t have to get into a mad man’s car to preform, yet you did.”

You ignored San’s indignant noise behind you.

“But then I wouldn’t have the pleasure of your charming acquaintance,” you said. You regretted it as soon as you said it, your default of sarcasm and quips feeling very much like a bullet being loaded into a chamber in front of these men, even if one was currently bed bound.

To your relief, you got a laugh in return, startled and loud. Seonghwa put a hand over his mouth to hide the grin. “I like you,” he decided.

You felt like you’d be claimed by some overgrown wild cat and you figured that probably wasn’t a good thing. Yet, the words still hit you right in your chest, had your heartbeat hitch and your throat tightened. Your face felt hot and you ducked your head to hide it, letting the front strands of your hair act as a curtain. You knew it didn’t work but no one called you on it.

You heard Seonghwa give instructions to San to drop you back, and then a hand slipped into your line of vision, under your chin. You recoiled but not fast enough, long forefinger and thumb holding you in place, urging your head up with a mere flex. You obliged because what else could you do?

The look he gave you was hard to read. You didn’t want to mistake it for anything more than what it was. Definitely a shade of interest, you were comfortable saying that.

You wondered if your breathlessness, your fear, your own interest, was obvious on your face.

“I’ll see you soon darling,” Seonghwa mumbled as if it were a private moment and not one shared with two others.

What was with these guys and pet names, you thought, but you bit your lip, stayed quiet. They could call you whatever they wanted, you reasoned, you couldn’t exactly stop them.

But the way they spoke didn’t sound demeaning, didn’t sound mocking - maybe it should. All it did was make you feel warm all over and weak at the knees.

You were still questioning exactly what was wrong with you when you were back in the car, blind fold in place as San drove you back home. When he pulled up to your apartment block, you should have been terrified, should have felt like you were doused in cold water. A walking nightmare.

Should have, but you didn’t.

San smiled at you once you could see him again, murmured his thanks for your help and tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ears.

“I’ll see you soon doc,” he parroted what Seonghwa had said, a promise, a vow.

It was a promise you found yourself itching for him to keep.

It didn’t take long before the same car was pulled up behind your work place. It became routine. Sometimes you’d go weeks at a time without seeing anyone, sometimes it would be days in a row. Most of the time, it was San would picked you up - once had been Wooyoung, who grinned at you boyishly and drove just far enough over the speed limit that your heart would race and you’d scold him viciously. He seemed to like that, getting a reaction out of you, but when you’d told Seonghwa, he’d frowned and said that Wooyoung couldn’t drive you anymore.

“Precious cargo,” he called you.

You tried not to blush.

You met everyone eventually. Yeosang was a surveillance operation leader, who had far too many screens in his room, and the kind of bags under his eyes that came from staying up too late. He had been by Wooyoung’s side when you were checking out how the shot wound was healing, eyes wide, flittering everywhere as to not make eye contact with you.

He was shy, a strange word to use to describe a man that had access to every camera and every file in the city.

He would bring you tea when you visited and blushed so prettily when you thanked him.

Then there was Jongho. The youngest, San had said, despite his disposition being far more serious than anyone else around him. He’d terrified you at first, broad shoulders filling the doorway, knuckles bloodied, lips split. His dark eyes had watched your every move and you instinctively knew that one wrong move and he’d break you.

When he smiled though, full lips spread, eyes creasing at the corners, all gum and teeth, he looked his age. Young. Carefree. He smiled at you often now, silently carrying the medical equipment you’d swiped from the hospital for you, acting as your assistant when stitching up this wound or that.

Yunho, you ended up meeting him at your own trauma surgery. He had come in due to a car crash, a head on to right side of car collision. Of course, you hadn’t known at the time exactly what had happened or who was involved. A car accident with casualties was called in and you went into action. Yunho had been conscious, smiling so much that you had originally thought he had a concussion. Other than a few scrapes and bruises, he’d been fine.

The driver of the other car however - not so lucky.

When the police officer involved had told him this, you’d watched the taller man hum, almost indifferent. A strange reaction for someone who had just killed someone else.

It all made sense when he caught your arm as you were leaving from your check in. His smile was in place, barely moving a fraction, while his eyes were dark, serious, taking you in.

“So you’re the doctor,” he said, “I can see why they’re so enamoured by you.”

“They?” You’d repeated dumbly.

Yunho’s gaze brightened. He introduced himself and then added, “Don’t tell Seonghwa I came here, he’d kill me.”

The second in command did end up finding out of course, probably told by Yeosang and his infinite wisdom. Seonghwa had been exasperated, but Yunho just continued to look delighted.

“He’s like that,” San had explained, “an adrenaline junkie.”

“Even if that thrill comes from getting scolded by hyung,” Yeosang added.

You don’t know when you started referring to them ‘your boys’. It happened a few times in your head - thoughts that slipped by, catch you up surprise and you’d brush them off, refusing to think about it any further.

It kept happening though, until it slipped out.

“You brought dinner,” San had happily accepted the takeaway bags into his arms as you took the passenger’s seat.

“Only the best for my boys,” you had said as you reached for the blindfold in the glove compartment.

San had tensed beside you, enough that you paused to look at him. He was wide eyed, surprised. He went pink, lips curling shyly and lowered his eyes, as he fussed with the food bags to put them into the backseat.

Neither of you said anything about it but you knew he must have told them, because Seonghwa caught you as you were leaving, arms slipping around your waist.

He lowered his head until his forehead pressed against yours. It was closest you’d been to one of them and it made you breathless. Your fingers curled nervously into the front of his shirt. His lips twitched upwards.

“You’re taking good care of them, darling,” he murmured.

You laughed nervously. “I can’t exactly leave them out with their insides hanging out,” you teased.

Seonghwa hummed and his grip on you tightened. “Your boys,” he breathed.

Your heartbeat picked up. “Your boys,” you corrected.

Seonghwa shook his head. “You fed them, you stitched them up - they’re your boys now,” he explained, and then chuckled, “God, Joong is going to have a field day.”

“Joong?” You said back.

“The big boss,” Seonghwa explained, “He’s been away on business, but he’ll be back soon. We’ve told him all about you.”

Your mouth felt dry. “Oh?”

“He’s very excited to meet you.”

When you finally meet Hongjoong, you could admit that you are intimidated. He wasn’t the tallest or the broadest of the men surrounding you on a daily basis at this point, but there was something in how he held himself. Head held high, shoulders back, eyes intense, lips curled into a smirk that said he knew all your secrets. You had no doubt he did.

You’d been picked up as normal, comfort found in the hum of a familiar engine and the low conversation that San shared with you. It wasn’t until you got to the church building, when the door closed behind you and San looked at you sheepishly.

“No injuries today,” he admitted, “Hyung is back.”

He didn’t have to say which hyung. It was obvious in how he looked a little embarrassed, a little nervous - like you were about to meet his parents for the first time. You swallowed, made note of the fact that no one had come to greet you as they normally did, and nodded sharply.

Everything felt quieter, tenser - or maybe that was just you. San knocked once on a door that you had passed numerous times but never entered. Now, a voice called from within.

San pushed the door open and murmured “good luck” in a way that made you feel like he was nervous for you. Not a good sign.

The room was an office, lined with repurposed pews and a wooden desk in the centre of the room. Sitting behind it was the man himself, eyes flickering up at you from a pile of papers, before he stretched, took you in.

Instinctively, you tried to make yourself smaller.

He pushed himself up from his chair, languid like a cat, and his footsteps clicked as he moved around to the front of the table, resting against it. He rolled your name around his mouth, before introducing himself.

“My boys speak highly of you,” he stated.

Despite yourself, it did make you feel happy to hear that. “I’m just doing what doctors do.”

“Not many people would put themselves in situations like this,” Hongjoong mused, almost like he was thinking out loud to himself. You knew he wasn’t. “Some would call it stupid even.”

You felt irritation flare at the word and barely clamped it down. “It would have been stupid to refuse,” you counted.

Hongjoong’s lips twitched. “Also true,” he agreed.

You didn’t lower your gaze when he walked towards you, taking note of the way each step was measured to get a response out of you, to challenge you. Maybe you succeed, you didn’t know, but when Hongjoong stopped in front of you, eyes locked on yours, they looked almost warm.

“Thank you,” he murmured, “for looking after them while I’ve been away.”

You swallowed around a dry throat. “You’re welcome.”

“I hope you’ll continue to do so,” he said, “when you’re needed.”

“Of course,” you agreed. Even if you could refuse, even if you should, you knew at this point you couldn’t. These men, terrifying in most ways, soft in others, had cut their way into your system and the selfish, thrill seeking part of you knew you’d do anything to keep them there.

Hongjoong didn’t touch you, but he was close enough that he could. You felt the brush of his coat against your own, the nudge of his house slippers against your own. When he moved his hand to push hair away from his face, his fingers brushed over your shoulder.

“I look forward to getting to know you, doctor,” he said, “really looking forward to it.”

He dragged his thumb across his bottom lip, and you followed it, momentarily distracted. And then he was stepping away, heading back to his desk chair. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been back,” he said, smiling ruefully, “Hwa always does a good job but he hates paperwork.”

“I didn’t realise a criminal organisation required paperwork,” you said.

Hongjoong chuckled. “Unfortunately so. Criminals are the most meticulous.” Then he tilted his head and added, “The boys want you to stay for dinner.”

You admitted you had been recently, but Hongjoong didn’t react as if this was new knowledge. You supposed it was part of his job to be told about everything - you included, in whatever capacity that had become.

You found yourself asking, “do you want me too?”

Hongjoong grinned at you again. “Beautiful, if I didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t be.”

It seemed like after Hongjoong’s approval, things became…more. Like they’d been holding themselves back until their leader gave the all clear and now they couldn’t stop themselves.

Seonghwa had always been one to hold you, pushing against you in dim corners of the house, but now, he didn’t shy away. In the dining room, he’d grab your hand as you walked past and brush his lips against the back. He’d touch your waist, fingers splayed into the barely there reveal of skin when you sewed up one cut or another. It made you shiver, goosebumps breaking out across your skin, but you never pulled away.

Wooyoung was probably the most obvious. He was a flirt. He’d flirted with you before, called you “pretty” whenever you could. He’d refuse to let anyone else in the kitchen when he cooked but you, lifting you up on to the counter top to be “motivation”, slipping between your dangling legs to nudge his forehead against yours, bump noses, nuzzle his face into your neck. He never kissed you though, even if he joked about it, never quite took that step.

But after meeting Hongjoong, it was like he couldn’t stop. He kissed you on the cheek, on the hand, on your forehead - never your lips. He even kissed your knee once, when you had been cohersed into staying to watch some action movie after dinner. Something surprising domestic. Wooyoung had pulled your legs into his lap, forcing you to lean against Mingi, who had gone completely red in the face but didn’t move you away. He had traced patterns absentmindedly with his fingers, and then ducked his head, let his lips brush for a moment then pulled away.

You had complained to Yunho about it when you were treating a stab wound to his hand, after he’d successfully lost a game of cards. He’d grinned at you the entire time, almost as if he didn’t have a hole between his knuckles.

“Don’t you know baby,” he said, “he’s waiting on you.”

“Not as if you guys ever asked before,” you grumbled.

Yunho’s smile stayed but his eyes became more serious. “We didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said.

You shook your head. “I’m complaining that I can’t get a kiss, and you think I’m uncomfortable,” you pointed out.

He covered his mouth with his uninjured hand momentarily. “Fair.” He conceded, “but sexual tension is different. A kiss…you wanting us to kiss you…that’s different.”

You didn’t ask why, because you kind of understood the twisted logic. Sex, drugs and violence was par for the course - you could only imagine how much their days were filled with it, even if they didn’t actually share any specifics with you beyond what you needed to know to fix them up. Even as they’d dragged you in, you were kept sheltered from the entire truth. Perhaps, for them, kissing was the equivalent of a wedding proposal - big and serious and full of meaning.

You must have been quiet for too long because Yunho reached out with his uninjured hand, catching your chin in his palm. Your breath caught as his fingers traced along your bottom lip. He watched you with such intense eyes, as if he’d want nothing more than to throw himself at you, to close the distance.

He didn’t though.

“If you want this,” he said, voice unexpectedly hoarse, “you gotta take that step. This one is for you.”

So you did. You reared across the table, fingers flexing around the bandage you’d wrapped, only stopping when your lips barely brushed against Yunho’s. He was frozen, not daring to move even an inch, but you could feel the shuddered exhale of his breath against you before you closed it.

Kissing Yunho was surprisingly gentle. He didn’t rush, didn’t take control though you could tell from the flexing of his fingers that he wanted to. He let you lead, let you control the pace and how deep it got.

When you pulled away, he was dark eyed, flushed and breathless.

“Tell the others,” you said, “I’m ready to take that step.”

Word must have spread quickly because the next day, San nearly pulled you over the centre console in his eagerness to slide his lips against yours. Wooyoung backed you into the door as soon as it closed, stealing your breath from you. Jongho kissed you between mouthfuls of mochi, eyes hooded and intense.

Hongjoong chuckled. He lounged back in his dining chair, beer bottle caught between long fingers. “Regretting what you asked for?”

You looked at him, wide eyed and flustered. “Not even for a second.”

He smiled around his drink, eyes warm as he watched her, watched them.

It was when it was time to leave, when San had dragged his feet as he went to get his keys, and Seonghwa took the opportunity to press you against the door. You hummed, relaxed into the hold, and angled your head upwards to meet his hooded eyes.

“Joong said I should ask you,” he confessed.

Your fingers twitched in the fabric of his shirts. “He could have asked me himself,” you replied.

Seonghwa agreed. “Probably, but he knows you’re closer to us than him. He doesn’t want to push.”

“He wouldn’t be,” you murmured, distracted by the way his chest felt under your hands, the way his hands were so warm against the bared skin at your waist.

“I think he just needs to know that he’s yours as well,” Seonghwa mused.

Your eyes flickered upwards. “As well?”

The smile you received was wicked. “Are you surprised darling? We’ve been yours for a while. Just like you’re ours.”

Yours. Ours. Mine. You weren’t a possessive person but you felt like you could be.

“Hwa, is this you asking me out?” You teased.

Seonghwa brushed his lips against yours, slow at first and then deeper, slow and sensual, as if he had all the time in the world. “Do you want me to?” He murmured, “to take you on a date?”

“With flowers,” you asserted. “I’m sure Sangie knows my favourite.”

“Of course darling,” he agreed easily, “as many flowers as you want.”

Then his lips were back on yours, stealing any remaining thoughts from your head.

You didn’t end up going home. Hongjoong stole you from under Seonghwa’s amused gaze, leading you to his room with flushed cheeks. He held you close in the darkness and asked if you were sure, if you knew how dangerous it was, how it was different being their doctor and being theirs. You had traced the lines of his face, pressing kisses against his cheekbones and whispered your truth against his chest.

“It’s stupid, I’m stupid for allowing it,” you confessed, and felt the way that Hongjoong tensed around you.

You pressed a calming kiss to his pec, above his fluttering heart. “But It’s too late. I’m already yours.”

“And we’re yours, beautiful,” he whispered back, his voice deeper with emotion.

“Damn right,” you grinned up at him, “You’re stuck with me now.”

When Hongjoong laughed, it vibrated your whole body. “What a hardship,” he joked, dipping his head and - for the first time - pressed his lips against yours, claiming the last part of your heart that you’d left carved just for him.

You were aware that this didn’t make sense, that you had placed yourself again and again in a situation that couldn’t end well. If you let your rational brain speak, you knew that it could only end with heartbreak and blood.

It was worth it though, your heart sang.

In the quiet of a crime lord’s bedroom, strong arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close and safe, there was no place you’d rather be.

—————————————————————————

You agreed immediately, offering out your wrist. His fingers were long and warm as they wrapped around the smallest part of your wrist, and lowered his head carefully. You felt the press of his breath against your sensitive skin and tried not to shiver.

Scent was important for all hybrids you knew; regardless of your skills or abilities, if your scent was off putting to them, there would be no continuing forward. You’d done this a million times before and yet, the touch of this man made your heartbeat uptick. You shuddered a breath through your pursed lips, tried to hold your composure.

You weren’t going to lose your cool just because of a handsome hybrid, you refused.

When you were released, your skin felt cold. Hongjoong flickered his intense gaze up to your face, expression unreadable. You angled your head but kept eye contact.

He looked away first, lips twitching at the corner. You hoped that meant approval.

Hongjoong didn’t make a comment about your scent in front of you, folded his arms over his chest and conceded control of the conversation back to his companions.

Jihoo smiled widely at you. “Thank you so much, you’ll hear from us soon.”

Even when you left, you thought you felt Hongjoong’s gaze following you out, watching each step you took.

There was nothing you could do now, you told yourself firmly, just a waiting game.

You didn’t know yet but you wouldn’t have to wait long.

-

Lemons and cherry.

That’s what you smelt like.

It stuck in Hongjoong’s nose long after you had left, settled into his body and made him lightheaded. Just a small inhale and it was like you had invaded his senses. It took all of his control to hold himself back from pressing himself closer, from putting the tip of his tongue to your pulse to taste you.

When Jihoo turned to him excitedly and Kyunghim arched an eyebrow curiously, Hongjoong had spoken with a nonchalant edge that belied the way his heart was beating in his ears.

There were only a few times a person had smelt as addicting as you did. Seven times in fact. He’d pulled each of his members close, forming a pack of his own, and he was content with that.

Until now. Until your sweetness had overwhelmed his senses.

Until his animal instincts whined and wanted to roll over for you, bare his belly for your approval.

Mate. Mine. Ours.

His panda had heart eyes.

“I like her,” Hongjoong had said. “The others will too.”

He didn’t let on that there would be no other choice, no other candidate considered.

It was you, could only be you.

When Jihoo and Kyunghim agreed easily, Hongjoong tried not to preen in pleasure. It would take time, he knew, HR and job on boarding processes. KQ had training for those working with hybrids in the industry, specifically covering the expectations between nature and the entertainment industry.

But soon, he would see you again.

You’d be in his home, with his pack, your scent mixing with theirs.

Ours.

Hongjoong put his hand to his face, searching for any lingering remnants of your scent on his fingertips.

He couldn’t wait.

-

When you got the call, it took everything not to squeal into the phone. The familiar voice of Jihoo had been warm, excited in her congratulations for joining the team. It began a whirlwind of meetings to sign contracts and NDAs, a series of hybrid specific trainings and conversations with the department head, Ryujin, about expectations within the industry, how to avoid scandals.

There was so much information that it made your head spin but you absorbed all the information, enmeshed yourself in each class with a greedy eagerness. The two week intensive training ended with Ryujin offering all newbies a broad smile and announcing your success.

Which led you to this moment, standing outside a pretty standard looking apartment block in Mapo-gu, nervous curling in your stomach. The agenda for the day was on your phone screen, each part of your day segmented and labelled, designated down to the very minute. Such is the life of an idol, and now it was the life of you.

Your first order of the day, the official meeting between yourself and the rest of the ATEEZ members. Your calendar had a solid hour blocked for initial meetings before you were all swept off into a show recording.

Don’t let them be late, Kyunghim had warned in his email to you.

You refused to make a mistake on your first day.

So you rung up to the specified apartment a minute before 9am, your first foot crossing the threshold right on time.

It wasn’t the first time you had entered a hybrid home. With previous clients, you had been into family home, supported care homes, crowded hybrid homes for young orphans. It was your first time entering a pack home just as this - adult, prey and predator, private in a way that only a handful of people could actually know where they live. It was a privilege to be invited into such a space.

Hongjoong was the one who opened the door, familiar eyes flickering over you in consideration before offering you a soft smile, the one that made his eyes crease at the edges. He said your name with a layer of delight that made your heart pound.

“I’m glad you took the job,” he said.

You couldn’t help but smile back. “Thank you for your approval,” you commented, “I know nothing would have happened without your say so.”

He hummed in agreement. “Let’s say, you made an impression.”

The word was loaded, heavy with unspoken meaning. The tips of your ears burned.

Hongjoong opened the door wider and gestured with his hand inward. “Come on in,” he said, “the others are excited to meet you.”

-

Yeosang couldn’t say he particularly enjoyed change. It was uncomfortable, disconcerting at times, and ultimately set his instincts on edge.

When Doyoung had told them he was retiring to spend more time with family, Yeosang had understood. The life of an idol’s caretaker was busy, intense and wildly antisocial at times. There were so many days where they were traveling from dawn to dusk, barely able to take a phone call for anything of a personal nature. It was hard, isolating, and he had wished Doyoung a tearful farewell.

But then came the hunt for a new caretaker. Each profile had been presented to them all. It was important that they all came to an agreement, but in their situation, it was high-on impossible. Each member found a reason to reject one profile or another, even down to as petty as the shape of their jaw (that was from San, who stubbornly refused to explain further).

Eventually, Kyunghim had to step in and demand a shortlist be made.

Yeosang remembered your profile vaguely - your credentials were good, you had a lot of experience, your personal statement had been honest and sweet, if a bit on the wistful side of things. He remembered your smile more, the way it seemed to brighten your face like sunshine.

It was the same in person, he mused, now that he was standing in front of you. You had toed off your shoes in the entryway, let Hongjoong take your coat to hang up before walking on tights clad feet towards the main living space. Hongjoong had told them to wait there, a firm look at Wooyoung who was bouncing off the walls in his excitement to meet this new caretaker that apparently smelt so nice.

Lemon and cherries.

It had just been faint when Hongjoong came back, a distant look in his eyes as he murmured that you had smelt so good. Better than good. Perfect. Like a part of them.

Yunho had perked up at the idea, amazed that there was someone else out there who had ensnared their leader. Jongho had blinked sleepily - winter months meant he was tired more often, his bear side seeking any time it could to hibernate - and rasped, “Are you sure?”

It was strong now. Yeosang was searching for it - they all were - and it wafted on the air, beckoning him closer for a better scent. It settled in his chest when you bowed low and murmured how happy you were to meet them all.

His heart thudded. His mouth felt dry. His eyes were wide.

Mate. Mate. Mate.

The deer within him spoke tentatively, unsure but hopeful.

When it was his time to be introduced, Yeosang bowed low, the pink hue of his cheeks hidden by the flop of his hair.

“I look forward to working with you,” you beamed at each of them in turn.

“Can I scent you?” Seonghwa bounced on the back of his heels, excitement meaning he was unable to be still. His nose twitched in anticipation.

It shouldn’t have made Yeosang want to croon when you had offered your wrist so willing, so pliant in your consent. Seonghwa nearly dropped to his knees in his eagerness, pressing his chin into the soft curve of your hand, his eyes closed. If he was stable enough, Yeosang was sure he would have thumped his foot in pleasure. Instead, he tittered, and ran his nose over where the smell was the strongest.

Yeosang watched your face go from pink to red, lips parting in surprise.

It only got worse when Yunho gave into his excitement, announcing “you’re hogging her hyung” and pushing Seonghwa out of the way. Yunho wasted no time pressing your wrist under his nose, eyes wide and mouth open.

“Oh,” he said before his eyes fluttered, momentarily lost.

“I, um, I’m glad you like my scent?” you stammered, smiles wavering with uncertainty. Yeosang wanted to reach out and smooth it away, but any words were caught in his throat.

“My turn!” Wooyoung announced, stalking forward and, in true feline fashion, overstepped any kind of decorum to press his face against the soft juncture of your neck.

Yeosang didn’t know whether to be scandalised or immensely jealous.

Hongjoong snapped a warning and Mingi pulled him off, dropping the cat firmly under his arm and holding him there.

San was apologising and making you promise you wouldn’t leave, worry obvious across his face. Hongjoong was shooting daggers at a very smug looking Wooyoung, whose eyes were more blown.

You stumbled over your words as you tried to reassure the panicking ragdoll. Yeosang watched as you shoved your sleeves down over your wrists and asked whether they all knew what the schedule was for the day.

“Kyunghim-sshi said he’d meet us there,” you told them all.

Jealous, Yeosang decided, when Wooyoung tugged his collar over his face, catching the sweet scent in the folds of his clothes and holding it there. Definitely jealous.

-

Your skin still tingled from the touches, fingers pressing invisible bruises that felt like they’d take an age to heal. Scenting hadn’t ever felt like that before - overwhelming, warming, something that set your skin on edge.

At the beginning, it had been hard, this very animalistic approach to greetings but time had helped you get to use to it. Before, scenting would have meant nothing.

You couldn’t dwell on why it was different this time, both for your own sanity but also because the day unfolded before you had kept you busy.

Part of your job was to ensure the comfort of each hybrid in line with their needs. There was no universal, one size fits all hybrid plan. You had the basics from training years and some key points highlighted in each members notes.

You checked in with each hybrid, each one taking turns from costume to hair to make up. You made sure that the brushes were the right kind for Mingi’s skin and the hair spray was unscented for San. You checked that Jongho had a nest to nap in during downtimes and that the outfit for prepared for Yeosang had the labels taken out to avoid discomfort.

You helped adjust the mic around Yunho’s ears and made sure the bottle of water had cooled enough before giving it to Hongjoong.

You checked the make sure that catering had including carrot sticks and celery for Seonghwa and beef kimbab for Wooyoung.

By the time, they’d stepped onto the stage to the cheers of the live audience, you were flustered, flushed and oh so happy.

This was the job she loved so, as hectic and busy as it was. Watching them through the cameras backstage, knowing you had supported to get them there even a little bit, filled you with pride.

ATEEZ, as always, were as charming as they had been in any interview. You’d done your research of course once you accepted the job. You knew that San and Yunho were charming, while Hongjoong and Seonghwa were calmer, supporting each other to keep control of the situation. Mingi laughed with his members and spoke insightfully when asked. Yeosang and Jongho were quieter but threw themselves into every challenge, every joke, presented to them. And Wooyoung -

Your heart fluttered. You swallowed around a dry throat.

Wooyoung was suitably entrancing, his laugh contagious and his smile wicked. He knew who he was and he, seemly, was unashamedly himself. You respected him for it as much as it made you feel weak at the knees.

You could still feel him against you - nose against the curve of face and neck, and lips parting dangerously. It gave you goosebumps.

He was an attractive man, there was no dying that, but he was your client. Someone you had to work closely with. And, you reasoned with yourself, you doubt it actually meant what it could have meant.

Hongjoong had spoken to you in the car, a mixture of apologies and irritation.

“It’s just how he is sometimes, especially around new people,” he explained, “he doesn’t mean any harm by it. If you tell him to stop, he will stop.”

You had of course emphasised it was no big deal. “I was just surprised,” you murmured, “I’ve never been scented like that before.”

“It’s usually not something you’d do on a first meeting,” Hongjoong replied.

“Unless you’re Wooyoung.”

“Unless you’re Woo.”

But in all honesty, it was a big deal. A big deal in that, the irrational unprofessional part of you, wanted it to happen again. To feel the closeness, the softness of the touch on such a sensitive place.

The rational part of you was confident that was a terrible idea. So you squashed the thought and did your job, never allowing your mind to stray further.

When the boys clambered back down into the green room, slightly sweaty from the set lights and grinning widely from a job well done, you had to work to actively suppress the question.

Professional.

You offered towels to dab their faces; checked the right make up remover went to the right hybrid and handed them their coffee orders (collected by one of the PAs from the show).

When Wooyoung’s fingers brushed yours - purposefully, with intention - you tried not to make it noticeable that your stomach was doing somersaults or your cheeks were red.

Professional, you repeated to yourself firmly. Don’t screw this up.

-

Wooyoung was a lot of things - loyal, affectionate, understanding just as much as he was impatient, stubborn and impulsive. Still, he wasn’t an arsehole. He knew when he’d push it too far with another person without the nagging of Hongjoong or the nervous chatter of Yeosang.

Scenting you there was always going to be intimidate for a hybrid or a human. He’d known that. The neck is where the claiming bite went, it’s where someone’s scent is the strongest and where they are the most vulnerable.

In truth, he hasn’t really thought too far into the repercussions. Linear thinking is what Seonghwa-hyung called it once and Wooyoung was inclined to agree.

When Hongjoong had said that you smelt like you belonged to them, he trusted his leader immediately. No question about it. You were theirs and he couldn’t wait to meet you.

And then you were in front of him, soft in winter blues and greys, a smile that he felt blessed to have received. He could smell you, however faintly, and it embedded itself deep inside. He had an instinctive desire to follow it and pounce like it were prey.

Seonghwa and Yunho had grasped at your wrist and fell into it. You had blushed so prettily for them and Wooyoung just wanted you to look like that because of him.

You had a particularly pretty neck, he would admit, dotted with freckles he wanted to kiss. But your scent there? It was like a drug. The way his head had grown heavy should be studied.

Of course, he’d felt like that before but with other hybrids, ones who knew and understood. The others had bared their necks eagerly for him just as he had for them.

You were human though, not hybrid.

It hadn’t fully clicked exactly why his pack were frustrated with him until your fingers brushed his around an iced americano. You went red, your breath stuttered and you avoided making eye contact. Your scent, so sweet, so enticing, increased and then twisted into something sour.

It made him feel sick, to think he had made you feel this way.

He didn’t get a chance to apologise until later, after the van had pulled up in front of their home. You’d bowed and smiled at each of them, wishing them a good night and complimenting on a job well done.

Wooyoung hunched his shoulders and resisted the urge to reach out to you. “Can we talk?” He murmured. His eyes flickered to this pack and back again. “Alone?”

You looked nervous, but agreed with a nod of your head. Hongjoong nailed him with a firm look of reminder and Seonghwa visibly twitched in that way that told he was worried.

Wooyoung didn’t look at them though, only you.

He waited until they were far enough away, the door to the apartment swinging shut behind Mingi.

Wooyoung bowed as low as he could, eyes averted. “I’m sorry.”

You let out a surprised gasped. Your hands fluttered but didn’t quite touch. “Wooyoung-sshi, you don’t have to - please stand up, I…”

“Not until you accepted my apology,” he said forcefully. “I crossed your boundaries. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

There were more words - begs, pleads for you to still care about him in a way that you couldn’t possibly understand yet - but he held them back. Human, he reminded himself firmly.

He heard you released a long sigh and your scent twinged with heat. Wooyoung’s heart leap - that was good right?

“Wooyoung, please, stand up,” you murmured, “I accept your apology.”

He chanced a look up at you through the curtain of his hair. God, even in the low light, you were so pretty. Your cheeks were still flushed but your eyes, they sparkled as they looked at him, followed him as he straightened back up to full height.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” you started.

Wooyoung shook his head. “I did. You don’t have to pretend.”

You hesistated for a moment and then corrected, “Okay, just a little. I’d never been…scented before like that. Scenting at the neck is usually…not for first meetings right?”

“Right,” Wooyoung admitted.

You cocked your head to the side. “So then, why did you…?”

You fidgeted, slipping a straight of hair behind your ear. Wooyoung followed it with his eyes and oh so wanted to reach out, to smooth the strands of hair between his finger tips, to nudge his nose against your cheek. To make you smell like him and he like you.

But he couldn’t explain that to you. Not only was it not his place, not really - Hongjoong was the pack leader, he should be the one to explain the nuances of these dynamics - but also how could he? For you, you’d only met that day, merely strangers at this point.

How could he explain that intense feeling in this gut that told him that you were theirs? That Wooyoung wanted nothing more than to tug you into their home, into their den and surrounded you in their scent? To have your sweetness mixed with theirs until they were all indistinguishable from each other?

The panther in him craved it.

You blinked sweetly at him, confused, waiting for a response.

If you had any kind of reaction, it wasn’t like theirs. Hell, Wooyoung didn’t even know what this could feel like for a human or if they felt anything at all. It hadn’t occurred to him until this moment.

“I was just excited to meet you,” he answered, a half truth, “I wanted you to like me.”

“I do like you,” you admitted softly and it made his panther purr.

Wooyoung offered a toothy smile. “I like you too,” he said. “I want you to feel safe around me.”

As close to a confession he could right now.

“Strangely, I do,” you murmured, “but next time you want to scent me like that, maybe give me some warning next time?”

Next time.

God, he really hoped there would be a next time.

Wooyoung hummed in agreement. “If I overstep, feel free to scruff me,” he told you.

You looked aghast. “I’m not going to scuff you. You’re not a kitten.”

He laughed. “Joongie would.”

“Pack leader duties I suppose,” you smiled back.

You both smiled at each other, dumb grins that stretched across your face. Wooyoung didn’t know how long they stood there but he would have for hours, just to look at you like this.

In the distance, a car honked and the spell was broken. You ducked your head and gestured towards the apartment. “You should go in,” you ordered, “it’s cold.”

Wooyoung reluctantly agreed. “We’ll see you tomorrow?”

And you beamed brighter than any artificial street light. “8am sharp. You can’t scare me off that easily.”

He hoped he never would. The scent of lemon hung in the air and he inhaled, held it within him to hold him over for the night. This would be enough for now, Wooyoung comforted himself, it would have to be.

------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: if you liked this, please comment, like and reblog! If you want to be tagged in the next part, please comment! 💕

"hello baby girl," he murmured.

you looked at him through heavy eyes and tried to blink away the tiredness. "I didn't think you'd be back tonight..."

fuck, you sounded so surprised when you said it. not accusing, not upset, just pleased. his alpha whined a little, unhappy that he'd left his omega alone for so long. "thought the change of scenery would help," he admitted and ran his scent mark over your cheek, "what are you doing on the floor baby?"

you untangled your arms to hold his hand there, fingers warm and claiming as you dipped your head to nuzzle at his pulse point. you yawned. "smells like woo here," you admitted, shy but honest.

Hongjoong immediately wanted to lower himself and beg for forgiveness. it was comeback season and it was busy. songs that were supposed to be finished had been sent back with a list of changes. more and more photoshoots and filming schedules were put into their calendars. they'd signed on to do a showcase and that meant extra practice. the days seem to stretch on and on with no end in sight.

they'd apologised, warned you in advance. You'd smiled and promised you understood - "just look after yourself, okay?"

and then in the middle of all that, was you seeking the scent of your pack because you missed them so terribly. god, what a shitty fucking alpha he was.

"woo's bed smells like him too," Hongjoong reminded, "and softer."

you shook your head. "its not the same without him there," you confessed, "none of your rooms are."

his alpha whimpered. Hongjoong might have let it slip out.

"come to bed with me," he said as he urged you to your feet. you followed obediently, let him gather you close and tug your blanket around your shoulders.

"don't you have work?" you asked.

he did but there was no way it was going to get done tonight. not with your words in his head, your scent fresh around him and that hopeful light in your eye. "I was just getting water before I sleep," he lied, "so come with me."

you didn't argue with him, let him lead you across the house - half empty with their pack mates on other sides of the country for work - and into his room. the covers were still messy from the last time he'd slept there and you slid into them as if they were your own.

they were, he supposed, just like he was.

You slept with your face pressed against his scent gland, against the mating mark you'd put there. Hongjoong held you tight, anything to make up for lost time.

-

hongjoong: everyone better get their asses home as quick as possible

hongjoong: our girl needs us

-

jongho had never wanted to get home faster in his life. the message from hongjoong sat in the group chat - the one specifically reserved for work, not pack related things - and any follow up message went unanswered. the flight from jeju to Seoul was only an hour and yet it felt like a lifetime, his alpha pacing and tugging at his control.

he barely held back asking his manager to break the speed limit.

you had been theirs for nearly three years and yet he still felt like it was all so fresh when he thought of you. it was like he was still fumbling, trying to find his place with you and desperately afraid of fucking it up.

jongho looked at the group chat again. estimated arrival times and demands for answers still sat without response. he'd be the first one to arrive, the others on later flights because of their schedules.

of course, his mind jumped to the worst - to hurt and pain and death - and he felt sick. but that couldn't be, right? they were all busy but something like that - Hongjoong would have called. his manager wouldn't be humming songs playing on the radio under his breath. the world wouldn't continue turning.

so he tried to breathe through the initial panic, told himself that he was going to curse the pack alpha out for making him nauseous with worry, and assure himself that you were all in one piece.

he barely said goodbye to his manager, stumbling out of the car with his overnight bag slung over his shoulder, and took the steps up two at a time.

and there you were, on the corner of the sofa. your legs were tucked underneath you, a familiar blanket over your feet and clothes that were definitely Mingi's judging by the size on your body. your messy from sleep and your eyebrows were narrowed in concentration as you read something on your phone.

jongho's chest hurt as it always did at the sight of you.

your face lit up as soon as you saw him. "jjong!"

he dropped to his knees in front of you. his hands slid around, desperately seeking for signs of pain or injury, while his eyes jumped over your face. perfect, unblemished and mildly amused by his wandering limbs. he sniffed but couldn't detect any pain - only your sweet honey mixed with the tinges of delight that he was back in front of you.

your own fingers slid up the plains of his chest, hooking in the chain that hung from his neck. "I thought you weren't going to be back until tonight?"

"hongjoong-hyung said you needed us," jongho said softly, "so I came."

he watched the happy surprise dance across your face before it melted into embarrassment. "I didn't," you murmured, shook your head and ducked it low to hide the flush rising on your cheeks. "it could have waited."

jongho let his fingers smooth the creased the fabric at your waist. "nothing waits with you," he said, patient, honest, "what do you need?"

you ducked your head, the top bumping against the centre of his chest. his alpha rumbled at the contact and he dropped his head to press a kiss to the back of your head instinctively.

"I missed you," you whispered, "nothing smells like you anymore and I'm nesting so I was looking your scent and - did you know that the gym still smells like you and sannie?"

understanding hit him then. the tension he still held in his shoulders let him on the next exhale.

"where's hongjoong?" jongho asked patiently.

you smiled shyly. "getting supplies before pre-heat hits properly," you said.

jongho hummed in understanding. "do you need help making your nest?" he asked, "somewhere not on the gym floor."

the tips of your ears went pink. "help me?"

he kissed the curve of your lips. "yeah gorgeous, whatever you need."

your eyes dancing over his shoulders and jongho didn't even need you to ask. he was already shrugging his coat off his shoulders and tugging the jumper off his body. the way you hugged it close, eyes dilating and the way the tension left your shoulders was answer enough.

"Wait," you hesitated, "you said us? Does that mean the others too?"

you looked so adorably excited.

"will be with you in an hour," he promised.

you scrambled onto your feet. "okay, nest. I gotta get it ready. Ready for you."

it was all omega talk, a blabber about a safe place for your alphas to enter. the usual signs that you were about to start your heat. You never spoke that like that normally, never referred to any of them as your alphas in. normal conversation. still, it made jongho's alpha whine in delight and he watched, fond, utterly in love.

their managers would have a field day about the change of schedules, he was sure, and professionally, jongho knew it would cause more trouble later on. right now though, he didn't care. not with his omega reaching for him, his scent mixing with yours and your fingers interlocked with his.

he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand and nudged his nose along the insight of your wrist. "tell me what you need me to do baby," he murmured, "I got you."

-

jongho: no one is hurt or dying, beautiful is nesting

san: he couldn't have said that???

wooyoung: he made sangie cry

yeosang: you cried too!

seonghwa: why didn't he answer?

jongho: Hongjoong let his phone battery die

mingi: it is acceptable to cuss out our pack alpha?

yunho: he's gonna pay for my medical bills from this HEART ATTACK HE GAVE ME

hongjoong: I was half asleep!

hongjoong: it wasn't supposed to be so dramatic

yeosang: have you forgotten who your pack mates are?

jongho: [1 photo attachment]

jongho: our omega says hurry up

mingi: !!!!!!!

yunho: running

wooyoung: i might cry again

----------------------------------------

Hongjoong could see the pieces knitting together, but coincidences didn’t mean anything. Not really. “Jongho is allowed to have privacy, and go on runs, and not share his snacks,” he reminded them, “but I do admit, it seems fishy.”

“I think I know who it is too,” Mingi announced, his smile wide and confident as he saw the member’s coming around to his idea. He said your name simply and clearly.

“The make up artist?” San asked.

You’d been working as part of their glam team for a while, on big and small projects. You’d be shy at first, quietly starstruck but intensely professional. They’d broken down the walls in the way they had with all those they worked with consistently - professional friendship is what they’d call your relationship.

“Why her?” Yeosang asked.

Mingi gave a one armed shrug. “He’s softer with her, I don’t know.”

“He could just be being respectful,” Hongjoong argued but Mingi shook his head in disagreement.

“I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel like that,” Mingi murmured, “sometimes I think I see him looking at her and it’s just…different.”

They thought back to the last time they’d seen you two together, preparing for a photoshoot. You had laughed with all of them, told jokes and got teased in return. Jongho had definitely been speaking to you, his voice low, private. You had blushed and smiled. Maybe that was warmer than with the other members too. Maybe.

“Why wouldn’t he tell us if he was?” Wooyoung pouted.

Seunghwa flicked his ear. “Because none of us would let him live it down.”

“So, do we…wait for him to tell us?” Yeosang asked.

There was a long pause before San leant forward, a sly smile breaking across his face. “50,000 won for whoever gets a confession,” he challenged.

“You can’t seriously be betting on this,” Seonghwa shook his head, “Make it 50,000 and paying for the next BBQ meal.”

“Deal,” Mingi agreed.

“I want my winnings in cash please,” Yunho teased.

Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose and couldn’t help but laugh.

-

You got the ‘coffee?’ message about 3 hours into your day. Your team meeting had just finished, organisation of jobs and glamour looks for the next photoshoots, video shoots and upcoming live stages. It was a lot of information that was settled in front of your head, messy notes scrawled on to lined paper and an increased to do list. You were relieved at the chance to clear your brain, even just for a moment.

You made your excuses for your sunbaes and made your way out of the main team work space.

You always met in the same place, a hidden corner between the recording studio and your usual office. It wasn’t exactly private but in the fast paced work day, there was only so much time you had. It hadn’t started out as a ‘date’ (Jongho wouldn’t let you call them that because I can do way better than this) but you had to stop yourself from skipping in excitement.

He was in comfy clothes, baggy shirts and sweatpants, a usual work day outfit. “Recording all day,” he’d told you. You weren’t sure if he’d actually be able to slip away but of course he could.

He always found a way to see you.

Jongho had a tray of drinks at his feet, and he held yours out as you approached. You couldn’t lean in as close as you wanted, couldn’t curl your fingers around the base of his neck or kiss him like you wanted. You smiled sweetly. He made sure his fingers brushed against yours as you took the take away cup.

You took a sip and hummed. “With hazelnut today?”

Jongho gave a half shrug. “Hazelnut is for planning days.”

You’d told him that once, that the extra boost was always needed to get you through those long meetings. You couldn’t stop the grin that formed around your straw.

He rocked forwards and backwards on his heels, letting his elbow knock against your arm. It shouldn’t make your heart rate pick up, but it does, just the same as if he had slid his arm around you.

In this closeness, both of you could forget expectations, forget boundaries and just be.

Jongho reached out to brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear, following around the curve of your jaw. He kept the contact as long as he could, unwilling to let go before he had to. The gentleness belied the pounding of your heart in your chest.

“Did you sleep well?” He asked quietly.

“Well enough,” you promised, “just…a long morning.”

He hummed in understanding, and brushed his thumb along the clef in your chin.

“Jongho?”

You both startled at the name, a familiar voice that pierced the comfortable silence that blanketed you. Jongho’s hand dropped.

Behind Jongho, Yunho stood in the hallway, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, which lifted a moment later, eyes jumping between the two of you. Your heart thudded, and your head ducked, avoiding eye sight.

You didn’t see Jongho’s face harden just so, from the face he wore with you, to the one he wore with his members. Still soft but different. It always felt different with you.

“Hyung,” he greeted easily. When he turned, his broad shoulders blocked you from view just so. “Manager-nim asked me to drop a drink to ——-sshi.”

“Manager-nim…” Yunho repeated slowly.

Jongho hummed, bent to pick up the members iced drinks, melting freely in their holder on the floor. “Couldn’t you wait for your drink?” He complained.

“Thank you Jongho-sshi,” you murmured and bowed deeply, before making your exit.

Later, Jongho would apologise against your temple, muttering his complaints about impatience things, and laughed when you suggested a better meeting place for their coffee dates.

“It’s not a date,” he corrected.

-

Yunho: he lied, i can’t believe he lied to me

Yunho: we need to have serious words with jong about this

Yunho: and he just sat their in the recording studio

Yunho: like it didn’t matter

Yunho: with his drink of lies

Hongjoong: i think you’re taking this too personally

-

Jongho gave his clothes freely to you. In fact, you were pretty sure he was deliberately leaving them around. There was always a reason for you putting on a hoodie or t-shirt of his, each excuse more outlandish than the next. Not that you it stopped you from actually wearing them. You liked wearing his clothes as much as Jongho liked you in the them.

But then things like this happen. He leaves the wrong hoodie at your home and, on your late start day, you’re woken up by a phone call with a sheepish Jongho telling you that his manager says that jumper needs to go back into catalogued rotation.

“Can you bring it for me?” He asked.

You stifled a yawn. “I can’t exactly say no can I?”

Jongho huffed a laugh. “I’ll bring you another one,” he promised.

“One I can keep this time.”

When you go to find him, he’s in the dance studio. You had suggested that you just put it on the hanger yourself, since you were going that way, but Jongho had reminded you it would look weird for you to have the clothing that he was supposed to have kept. The reminder was like ice down your back.

Right, of course. Sometimes, you forgot that you were keeping things quiet when Jongho had taken over so much of your life at this point.

He’d sent you a text, letting you know that the coast was clear, and so you had gone to him. Jongho smiled at you, eyes creasing sweetly in the corners, as soon as the door slid closed behind you.

“You’re a lifesaver,” he muttered, hand slipping over yours to handle the bag.

“I am missing sleep wear,” you counted.

His eyes moved from your face, down, with a knowing tilt to his eyebrows. “Don’t worry on my account,” he teased, “I don’t mind.”

Your cheeks burned. “Jong,” you admonished, but he didn’t blink, grin widening into a smirk, a cheeky dance in his eyes.

Like this, when it was just the two of you, things felt easy. The knot that had formed in your stomach lessened, your shoulders felt lighter and, for a moment, you were just every other couple.

Jongho was still holding your hand, and he used it to tug you closer. You went willingly on stumbling feet until your shoes bumped together. That was the thing with Jongho, you had realised early on - you couldn’t resist.

“You look pretty,” he murmured, voice soft and honest, eyes jumping around your face as he took in everything.

You flushed and bite your bottom lip as you smiled. You weren’t used to compliments, not the way that Jongho did them. So earnest, so honest, just for you.

You almost missed the door opening behind you. But then Jongho’s hand was slipping from yours, feet stepping back and the distance between you felt like a sudden dunking in ice.

You turned to see Seonghwa, dressed for rehearsals, pausing in the doorway. “Oh, am I interrupted something?”

“Of course not, Seonghwa-sshi,” you answered quickly. “I was just….”

“Dropping off something for me,” Jongho finished.

“Yes,” you nodded, “and now that I have, I’ll go back to work.”

You bowed to both members before making your leave. You barely heard Seonghwa’s soft, “have a good day”, as you sped past him.

This was happening more and more, and honestly, you were not the best liar under pressure.

But when he pressed you into the mattress that night, kisses burning as they trailed down your neck, you found yourself repeating that the lie was worth it.

-

Seonghwa: i asked him why ——- would have his hoodie

Seonghwa: but he just pretended he couldn’t hear me

Yeosang: i think we need a more direct approach

Yeosang: lets be honest

Yeosang: jongho would never lose a battle of wits

Yeosang: especially against you clowns

Wooyoung: rude

Yunho: and yet fair

-

It was four hours into a photoshoot when Wooyoung noticed. They were doing a photos in pairs, Jongho and him, as part of the upcoming comeback. He couldn’t remember if this was for the album or a photocard or anything else. The photographer, Byungmin, was a new hire. They’d done a few shoots before but this was the biggest one he was leading.

“The concept is rock gods, got it?” Byungmin had expressed.

Wooyoung had an elbow resting on Jongho’s shoulder, jaw angled upwards as they stared down the camera.

“Excellent,” Byungmin checked the image through his lens, and gave a satisfied grin, “last one, and we’re good. Can you turn to face each other? Think enemies during peace time. Verge of fighting. I want to feel the tension through the camera.”

Around them, the photography assistants fluttered, readjusting limbs and leg stances until they got the approval of their boss. Wooyoung didn’t enjoy this part of the job - the hands that pushed and prodded and arranged you like a child would a doll. But he let them, did as he was told, and waited to be told he was done.

Wooyoung’s head was angled downwards by one of these insistent hands. His eyes followed downwards momentarily, and he caught it. Just below neck line. Wouldn’t even have been noticeable if it wasn’t for the way he was standing and that he looked down just as Jongho’s collar was readjusted.

Lip marks.

Those were lips marks on his collar.

Jongho had lipstick marks on his collar.

It was pink, a noticeable shimmer on the curve of Jongho’s neck. It sat there, like a hidden claiming mark.

Byungmin paused to tell Wooyoung that childish wasn’t really the vibe of the shoot right now.

“Sexy, right? Alluring,” he reminded.

“Of course, sorry,” Wooyoung apologised quickly. It took a moment to school his features appropriately, professional as he was. He couldn’t stop the way his body hummed in excitement and his fingers tapped an agitated beat against his thighs.

Oh, he couldn’t wait to see Jongho’s face.

Jongho noticed the behaviour change, and arched an eyebrow in silent question. What’s up with you?

Wooyoung returned the look, teasing, letting his lips twitch upwards into a giddy smile.

He leant closer for a moment, tried to make the movement smooth and effortless, just another poise, as he whispered, “Next time, you should probably tell your girlfriend not to wear lipstick on a shoot day.”

Jongho’s lips turned downwards into a frown, confused.

Wooyoung grinned, eyes darting to his neck for a moment. When Byungmin ended the shoot, and called for the next pair - Mingi and Yeosang - to make their entrance, Wooyoung tapped his own neck knowingly.

He laughed when Jongho’s ears went red.

-

Wooyoung: IT WAS PINK DO YOU KNOW THAT MEANS

Hongjoong: Jongho looks good in pink

Seonghwa: it was really obvious and we’re all blind that it took us that long to notice that he’s dating anyone

Mingi: jong is getting smooches

Mingi: and you’re not

Wooyoung: rude san would smooch me

San: don’t drag me and my smooches into this

Yeosang: can we please stop saying smooches?

-

“I think they know,” Jongho mused.

It was late. Jongho had gone on his usual workout session at the gym before making the short walk to your apartment. He’d showered, redressed himself in cleaner clothes, and made himself at home on your sofa.

It was a part of life now, the end of each of your days that you enjoyed every moment of. It wasn’t exactly sneaking around, but it was private, just for the two of you. Everything with Jongho was quiet, private. A comforting touch, a familiar sigh.

The televison was playing the ending credits of a drama you had been watching together. Soon, it would be time for Jongho to head back to the dorm rooms, a time that made your stomach twist with bittersweet longing. Which was silly, you knew, because you’d only see him again the next morning. You just wished these moments could stretch on.

You huffed a laugh. “I’m surprised it's taken them this long. Honestly, you’re not exactly subtle.”

“Who left their lipstick on me?” He challenged.

You groaned in embarrassment. Honestly, you couldn’t believe that had actually happened. A momentarily weakness that had seemed thrilling and sexy at the time, now just made you feel deeply mortified. “You’re the one that said Seonghwa has been asking about the missing hoodie since it happened,” you reminded.

“Hey, the hoodie one wasn’t my fault,” he argued, “You borrow a lot of my stuff.”

“You let me,” you challenged.

Jongho’s fingers slid along your chin affectionately, smirking at the blush that bloomed on your cheeks. “But you look so cute in them,” he murmured.

“Jjong,” you slapped a hand against his chest, “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

He arched an eyebrow, challenge clear in his face. You wanted to accept it, let him show you, but you were firm. Your fingers curled into the loose ties at the front of his hoodie. “You need to get back.”

Jongho hummed. His hand moved so he could stroke your cheek, and you leant into it. His hand felt so warm against you, you could float away. His eyes darted over your face, like he was memorising every detail over and over again. “Soon,” he promised.

You turned your head to kiss the palm of his hand. Such a simple act, so sweet, and it made Jongho’s heart clench before the uptick of its beating. Yes, he was so completely in love with you.

“I should tell them soon,” he said.

You looked at him under your lashes. “Whenever you want to,” you agreed.

“It’s not that I don’t,” he reminded. You hummed in understanding. Things were far more complicated than that. “Once they know, I just need to figure out how to keep you.”

You were quick with your answer. “You’ll always have me.”

Jongho said your name, quiet and revertant, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real. His hand moved to your neck and dragged you closer, until your lips could slot together. He always kissed like this - firm, with purpose, like he would crawl into you if he could. It made you breathless, lightheaded, lost in the moment.

When Jongho finally left, your lips were swollen and your heart ached even more to say goodbye.

-

Admittedly, Jongho wasn’t even trying to pretend anymore. He left your home three nights before, a heavy weight in his stomach that he wasn’t able to just stay. He never liked going, having to leave you behind so that no one noticed, but something about that day itself just caught him sideways.

You hadn’t really been able to see each other this week due to schedules, leading up today - the new music video. He’d watched you out of the corner of his eye as you moved around, bumping shoulders with your coworkers, nodding at your managers when they gave an update, laughing with his members while you assisted other make up artists before those on your rotation were ready to sit in your chair.

You’d finished Yunho before him, laughing at jokes that Jongho was pretty sure weren’t funny. Mingi was in the chair next to him, and the conversation flowed easily. You fit in there so effortlessly and he was once again struck by the thought that he was so lucky to have you.

“Jongho-sshi,” you called over your shoulder as you straightened your supplies, and then turned to flash him the brightest smile.

His mouth felt dry.

God.

Yeah. He was gone.

He watched you as you worked. You had to move around him constantly, applying and blending, adding powder to set. His eyes followed you, smile soft, like he couldn’t bear to look away.

You caught him, blinked in surprise. He had looked at you like this before, but never so out in the open. It felt like a spotlight blinking to life upon you.

“You’re staring,” you murmured, voice low, slipping into secrecy. He traced the flush from your cheeks to the tip of your nose with his eyes, wishing desperately to do so with his fingers.

“You’re cute,” he replied, quiet, honest.

He saw how the surprise in your gaze melted into warmth, affection. “Jongho,” you shake your head in amusement.

“What? Am I making it hard for you to concentrate?” He teased.

If you could have, you would have flicked his forehead. “You’re the worst client,” you joked.

“Lies, I’m your best,” he counted.

You hummed in amusement. You swapped one brush for another. “Close your eyes,” you instruct. “I need to do your shadow.”

He obliged. Even in darkness, you surrounded him. The touch of the brush on his eyelids was delicate. The end of your overshirt - an old button up that you wore over a tank top - brushed the top of his hands where they rested on the chair. Your perfume wrapped around him. Your free hand curved around his jaw so gently, holding him steady as you worked.

Jongho shuddered a breath he couldn’t hold any longer. Like this, he could pretend you were alone, lost in sensation. Your thumb stroked on the underside of his jaw once, barely noticeable to anyone but him, before you withdraw. “Okay, open.”

His eyes were dark, hooded, lost, only for you. You didn’t think anyone else would notice, but you did. You always did.

“Looks good,” you comment, throat dry, voice croaking.

Jongho makes a noise of agreement. His fingers twitch from the urge to pull you closer.

Later, in the shadow between the stage lights, Yeosang approached quietly and said, “You have failed at subtly my friend.”

Jongho huffed a laugh. “Kind of stopped caring that I needed to be,” he admitted.

“Does this count as a public announcement then?” Yeosang joked, sliding an arm over his shoulder.

He angled his head to look at the older member. “Honestly, it took you guys long enough.”

“Yeah, probably,” Yeosang admitted, “Mingi noticed.”

Jongho’s smile became a tad wider. “And now, you all know.”

“I mean, once it was pointed out, you do have that soft look about you.” Yeosang poked his maknae’s cheek.

“Yeah, I do,” Jongho agreed.

-

Jongho: Meet at the dorms after shoot

Jongho: we should talk

-

They gathered back in the dorms living room. Yeosang was already there, looking smug, while Jongho was splayed in the arm chair, a set look of determination on his face.

“What’s this about?” Seonghwa asked.

Of course, they already knew.

Jongho leant forward in the chair, elbows resting on his knees. “I’m dating ——-,” he said simply.

Mingi hissed his intake of breath. “Yes, I knew it.”

Jongho raised his phone screen, showing a timer. “You have three minutes to ask whatever questions you want. Then, my relationship is just a normal part of life, got it?”

He didn’t wait for a response and hit go.

“How long have you been dating?” Hongjoong asked first.

“10 months.”

San jumped in. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Jongho shrugged. “I wanted to keep it just for a us, just for a little while,” he admitted. “Plus, with our jobs…it was easier.”

“Is she nice to you?” Yunho asked.

Jongho’s lips twitched. “Yes hyung.”

Yeosang counted, “are you nice to her?”

“She hasn’t complained so far.”

“When can we meet her?” Seonghwa asked, “you know, officially, as your girlfriend.”

“Next team dinner,” was the quick answer.

“What shade is her lipstick?” Wooyoung wondered.

San raised his eyebrow. “That’s your question?”

“It was a good shade,” he defended, “—— and I always wear the same brand!”

“I’ll find out for you Woo,” Jongho promised.

“Was it love at first sight?”

“Of course not.”

“Not a romantic bone in that body,” Mingi complained under his breath. “How he got anyone to date him…”

Wooyoung vibrated with energy when he asked, “Who asked who out?”

“She asked me.”

“Good for her, girl power and all that shit.”

The timer went off. Jongho turned it off and returned his phone to his pocket. “And now we’re back to normal,” he emphasised. He stood up, pushed his hair away from his face and began to walk towards the door. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Hey, where are you going?” Mingi stammered, startled by the sudden dismissal.

Jongho grinned at them, teasing and amused. His eyes creased at the edges. “I’m going to see ——-. Don’t have to sneak around anymore, so don’t wait up for me.”

And then he was gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

Wooyoung sniffed mockingly. “Oh baby is all grown up.”

Yunho flung an arm around Woo’s shoulders and pouted. “They grow up too fast. Bring me back my baby Jongie.”

Hongjoong rolled his eyes but the smile across his face was warm. “Jongho seems happy,” he concluded.

“Smitten,” Yeosang added. “And on that note,” he grinned widely, “I’ll take those bank transfers now.”

——————————————————————————

His eyes flickered from his feet to you, uncertainty weighing him down for a moment, before you slipped closer. You raised your hands to cup his cheeks, angling his face down and raising up on your tip toes until you could bump your nose against his. Yunho shuddered, eyes fluttering as if this were the best feeling ever, even through his mask.

“It’s a wonderful idea Yun,” you murmured, and let him nuzzle closer, seeking comfort in your touch and scent, before he pulled back.

He stood tall again, excitement pumping through him. It amused you how quickly the Labrador hybrid could go from dejected to adrenaline fuelled ecstasy. 

You smiled as he led you in, the bell above the door signalling your arrival.

From behind the counter, a friendly face brightened. “Yunho!” He greeted.

“Kim hyungnim,” Yunho bowed politely, even as Kim waved his hand dismissively, tugging him back to full height and slapping him on the back in greeting.

“My boy, you’ve gotten taller,” Kim commented, “or I’m getting shorter.” He laughed at his own joke, before turning his attention to you, “what a pretty friend you have.”

You flushed and bowed low. “Good evening Kim-sshi,” you offered your name and added, “I’m here to help Yunho-ah walk your dogs?”

“Of course, of course,” he shuffled away from you, towards a room at the back, “bless those beasts, they need to get out of these walls and my legs won’t carry me so far these days. Old age you see.”

Yunho shook his head. “You? Old? Never.”

Kim pinned him with a look. “Flattery only gets you so far,” he spoke as if teaching a lesson and Yunho nodded like a dutiful student.

It was a spectacle in itself trying to get these dogs ready for a walk. There were 5 of them, golden retrievers and a German shepherd - big dogs that saw their leashes rattle when you picked them off the hanger and knew exactly what that meant.

You had giggled and tried multiple times to attach a lead to a wriggly girl called Gongju, who kept leaping up to lick your face in her eagerness. When you finally managed to get it attached, she’d ran a loop around your legs and tangled you up in it.

Yunho had scolded her like one would a child and Gongju whimpered appropriately, like she understood that big brother was mad at her.

Because that’s what Yunho acted like, a big brother. He spoke to them softly even as they raced around him, jumping up at him and barked excitedly. Most hybrids didn’t have an affinity with their real life animal counterpart but it was clear Yunho did.

Or maybe he was just good with animals.

He was gentle in how he brushed a hand over Zeus’ coat and indulging when he scratched behind Miso’s floppy ears. When all was said and done, he had an entourage of giant puppies who happily pranced out the front door for their evening walk.

Yunho held 3 leashes while you held 2. Every time one pulled you a little too excitedly, Yunho would click his tongue or call their name to put them back in their place.

“Where do you normally walk to?” You asked.

“There’s a dog park nearby, sometimes we’ll go there if I need to run, let off some steam,” Yunho answered, “today, I don’t mind where we walk, as long as I’m with you.”

You didn’t know how long you actually stayed out for, walking along empty side streets with your canine friends at your feet. You asked Yunho about his life before ATEEZ, about his family, about growing up and then moving away. He asked you about your aunt and uncle, about your job before it brought you to them, about your favourite parts of life.

You were almost sad to drop off the dogs to Kim-sshi, who greeted each one like an old friend. He rapped Yunho on the forehead and told him to come back soon. He bowed to you and demanded that you not be a stranger.

When Yunho slipped his hand back into yours, your heart felt full, grown in size by the simple fondness that had built around you. You were being honest when you said you didn’t need grandeur - you just needed moments like this.

You passed a convenience store on the way back to the dorm and decided to make the night last a little bit longer. You pulled Yunho to a stop, his words trailing off in surprise, and beamed up a him.

“Do you like ramyeon?” You asked.

Yunho tilted his head. “I’d be crazy not too.”

“Good.” This time it was your turn to lead him, pulling him up the front steps to the glass doors of the store, “I want to share something important to me with you too.”

Yunho watched, wide eyed, as you selected your ramen bowl carefully, the same brand you and your parents would share. You grabbed sausage and smoked eggs for accessories.

He broke the sausage into little pieces as you instructed, while you poured boiling water over noodles and seasoning packets to make the soup. Then you huddled together in the small seating area towards the back of the store, away from prying eyes.

You added an egg to each bowl.

Yunho snapped your chopsticks for you.

“I used to have this every week as a kid,” you explained quietly, “when my parents had an evening off. It wasn’t often, I spent most of my time at my uncles, but this food - it brings back memories.”

“Good ones?”

You hummed around a mouthful of noodles. “Good and bad,” you admitted.

“I hope this is a good one for you,” he murmured, quiet enough that you wondered if it actually was something you were meant to hear.

You nudged your foot against his under the table and then let it rest there, maintaining connection. “The best,” you swore.

Yunho’s ears went red and he ducked his head to hide the smile splitting across his face.

Later, on the doorstep of the dorm, the last moments between the two of you, Yunho hunched down to press his forehead against yours. He was so much taller, crowding you by in the best way possible.

“Next time, I’ll take you somewhere fancier than a CU,” he promised.

“As long as there’s a next time, I don’t care where we go,” you answered back. Momentarily brave, you ran your hands down the front of his jacket, pressing in close. Yunho’s eyes fluttered in delight.

“Can I…” he licked his lips and you could feel his breath dance across your own, “Can I kiss you?”

Such an innocent request and it made your heart lurch, your stomach tighten, your breathing stumbling over itself. You didn’t answer verbally, just tilted your chin up and claimed his lips for your own.

He followed your lead, dropping into the careful slide of your lips against his and drowning in the way that your scent increased with intensity. Because you liked it. You liked kissing him and god, did he like kissing you.

When you parted, shaky breaths gathering in the space between you, Yunho could have whimpered at the loose of heat. The taste of you wasn’t enough, was sure it would never be enough, and he swayed closer almost instinctively.

You giggled, flushed and happy, and Yunho could only offer back a dopey grin.

-

For the first time in a long time, you actually had some down time at work. The boys were scheduled for dance practice today and in their own space, they didn’t really need a caretaker to be with them all the time. You used this time to update reports for Ryujin and put in a finance request for the next month’s worth of hybrid friendly supplies.

Then, with time to kill, you’d made your way over the dance studio. The main choreographers would on their break now and if you knew your boys - which you did - they would still be running the routine until the dance line were happy with it.

You found them in the middle of a run through, sweat making their clothes stick to them, heavy breathing heard in the silent beats of the track. You tried not to distract them, but you still noticed the way that Yeosang’s expression seemed to brighten at the sight of you or that Wooyoung threw a few extra hip trusts into the dance than was truly necessary. Showing off for you, it made you preen as much as it amused you.

The song finished and you passed out bottles of water. San beamed at you, with the smile that made his eyes crease into slits, when he took his bottle. “Thank you princess,” he cooed and let his free hand slip around your wrist, tugging you closer so he could bury his face there.

He’d been doing that more, you thought with a blush. Since your agreement to give this whole pack relationship a try, San’s physical affection seeking had jumped up to 100.

In any quiet moment, he’d be there, slipping a hand around your waist, brushing fingertips across your wrist, tugging on the bottom of your jumper. You truly didn’t mind, each touch making your heart skip a beat and your body feel warm, though there had been a few close calls for a professional setting.

It was like he was unaware - or perhaps uncaring - if anyone saw him. Could be a claiming thing, the caretaker in your mind supplied, and if that didn’t make you blush all over again.

San groaned against your wrist and inhaled deeper. “Your scent got stronger,” he commented, voice rasping. He peeked up at you with darkened eyes. “What you thinking about?”

You squeaked.

Hongjoong kicked San’s shoe in warning. “Don’t tease our girl,” he ordered, only half being serious.

You barely had time to process the whole our girl comment or the way that you very much enjoyed that, before Wooyoung was at your side. He leant in close, lips curling at the edges as he went to speak, no doubt about to say something wildly inappropriate -

Something vibrated against your wrist. It took a second to process it, even as it made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end and have every human instinct you have desperate to recoil. 

A growl.

Wooyoung halted, smile slipping from his lips as his eyes hardened, narrowed down at his hyung.

San had growled at Wooyoung.

The ragdoll cat looked just as surprised as any one else in the room, eyes widening, face slack. He released his hold on you and took a step backwards, averting his gaze from any of the piercing eyes on him and took a long gulp of his water.

“San…” Jongho’s voice was deeper, a bear offering a warning.

Yeosang flinched. Hongjoong tensed as he tried to keep from rearing up. Seonghwa hunched his shoulders into himself.

“I…I need a minute,” San said faintly, taking another step, then two and then three until he was yanking the studio door open and disappearing beyond.

You watched the space he had disappeared from with a pounding heart, twisted with confusion and innate fear.

“Well,” Mingi tilted his head, “That’s new.”

 -

San didn’t entirely understand what has happening to him.

Actually, that was a lie.

He did understand why, he just didn’t know why this new relationship exploration was effecting him so much.

He loved his pack. He adored each and every one of them with his entire being. There isn’t a thing on this earth that he wouldn’t do for them and he’d told them that numerous times over the years. Hell, even that morning, curled against Seonghwa’s back, he’d murmured his love in the hare’s soft skin.

But with you…

You cornered him later that day. San had returned to dance practice when he felt like he had more control but he kept his distance, worried that he was going to growl, or worse, hiss at someone again. He did a good job at avoiding Hongjoong’s want to talk and Wooyoung’s tense frame.

Ultimately, it was you, standing at the doorway of the den that drew him out. You weren’t taking that step yet, to let your scent mix with theirs in the den, but even from the doorway, it was enough for San’s cat is purr in satisfaction.

It was momentary though, because when he dragged himself closer to you, the bitter ends of your scent reached him. San wanted to whimper in despair. He was the one who had made you feel like that, he knew that, and he hated himself for it.

You looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, arms folded over your chest as you demanded his attention. “You’ve never growled at someone before.”

San swallowed. “No.”

“But growled at Wooyoung today?” Your lips curled downwards more insistently, “Why? Is it because of me?”

San stumbled closer, reaching out to touch you but hesitating, hands hovering above your skin. “No, no, it’s not, I mean it is, I…” he couldn’t find the words. Couldn’t find a way of explaining this feeling within him that didn’t make him seem so completely pathetic.

“Sannie,” you sighed his name, sadness seeping in the edges. You held yourself close, self soothing, “If this is going to cause problems in your pack, I don’t-“

“Don’t say that,” San interrupted. His chest hurt at the thought. “Please. Don’t. I can’t bear it.”

You rolled your lips. “I’m just trying to be realistic,” you whispered.

San shook his head. He clenched his fists, digging his nails into the soft part of his palm. “It’s not you, it’s me,” he winced as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Do you not…like me the same way as the others?” You offered again.

“Princess, it’s not that,” he shook his head, “it’s just…I want you to like me.”

It sounded so childish now that it was out in the world. San cursed his own stupidity, his own inability to control his own emotions because if he could, Wooyoung wouldn’t be keeping his distance and you wouldn’t be here, worried, smelling like upset. He couldn’t look at you as he continued, let the thoughts that had been spiralling out into the world.

“I like you so much,” he admitted, “so much that sometimes I feel like I can’t think properly. The others, they’re so good with you. I watch you smile and laugh with them and I want the same too. Desperately. When Woo came up to you, I just…I don’t know. I thought you’d turn away from me and my cat, he didn’t like it. Felt like I needed to chase away a threat. Which is stupid because Woo isn’t a threat, I love him so much, I just.”

His voice flattered when he felt your hands touch him, fingers slipping over his clenched fists and gently unravelling his fingers. San watched, wide eyed and breathless, as you smoothed your fingers across the crescent indents in his palm.

“You aren’t losing me,” you murmured.

He knew he wasn’t. Your relationship had barely begun, still at the early stages of finding space in each other’s lives for each other.

But fear reminded San that you were human, that you could walk away from them at any moment and could go on to find love without them. He and the others would let you but you’d always be there, in a space you’ve carved in his chest without even trying.

You might decide they’re not worth it, might decide that he’s not worth it, and the fear he has churns inside him until he feels sick.

“I like you too,” you said and San can feel himself cracking under the weight of it. You didn’t notice. “I like you all. I’m not going anywhere.”

Words are pretty but San needed more. “I’m glad, we’re glad,” he said.

Of course, you already knew he did, hybrid expert that you were. “Will scenting me make you feel better?”

His cat was practically yowling in his ears and he nodded his head eagerly.

You smiled at him for the first time since this conversation started, amusement lighting up your eyes. “You can on one condition.”

“Anything,” San’s voice was breathless.

“You apologise to Wooyoung.”

San winced. He knew he’d have to eventually. Woo wouldn’t never let him live down that he was jealous. A deserved punishment, San supposed. “Promise.”

He expected you to give him your wrist, to let him rub it against his own but you don’t. The angle of your neck was anything but subtle, leaving the soft stretch of freckled skin open under his surprised eyes. San stammered your name, because he had to make sure, he needed to know.

You squeezed around his wrist. “I’m not going anywhere,” you repeated.

And San, he was weak. He couldn’t ask again, terrified that you would change your mind, as he nudged his nose against that sweet spot on your neck. He rubbed his lips there, let his tongue trace love hearts and your scent flood his senses in the best way.

He was lucky. He was so lucky.

San held onto your promise, onto your scent mixing so sweetly with his own, and clung tighter. San didn’t know if you could keep your vow, he didn’t know if you even knew if you could. Rationally, everything was new and very easily it could go up in smoke.

But he’d hold you while he could, San told himself. He’d keep you close and just let himself love you for as long as you would allow.

Forever would be what he wanted but just for now was more than enough.

-

When San apologised, he ducked his head in submission and said the words like he was declaring the start of a battle. Wooyoung looked at him blankly for a moment before yanking him closer for a biting kiss.

Later, in the softness of Woo’s bed, sheets smelling like the two of them and a little bit of you, San would release his thoughts. All the worries, all the fears, the churning of jealousy and wanton desire that he feels. He wanted his pack complete and he had come to the realisation that might not be possible without you.

Wooyoung would push hair away from the rag doll cat’s face and tug at the ends affectionately. “You’re mine,” he claimed, “I’m yours. She’s yours. She’s mine. She’s ours.”

“Ours,” San repeated back.

“Don’t worry about the future,” Wooyoung said quietly. He nudged his nose against San’s cheek. “That’s for later. Just enjoy us - and her - now.”

Wooyoung was right, San knew, but he didn't tell the panther that. Woo would be insufferable if he did.

-

Yeosang looked at you with wide doe eyes. “You smell like San,” he commented.

You flushed, embarrassed and delighted in equal measure. “We made up.”

The deer hybrid hummed, noncommittally. You watched the blush that crawled up the back of Yeosang’s neck, the way his eyes flittered to you and away again. You watched the way he covered his mouth, as if he could hide such obvious thoughts from you.

It was likely the pheromones and touch that made you brave. “Sangie,” you cooed his name, enjoying how he froze in surprise, “Do you want to scent me?”

Yeosang swallowed around a dry throat. “I…I mean.”

You hold out your hand, palm up, beckoning to him. “Come here baby,” you called and grinned when Yeosang nearly fell out his chair to reach out. His touch was strong, assured, even if his expression was anything but.

“Are you sure?” Yeosang had to check, even if his heart was beating out his chest, even as his deer pranced in dramatic delight.

And lord, the way you smiled at him, so open and so beautiful. You really were an angel, he thought, a blessing for whatever good choice they’d made in their last life. “I am,” you swore. “I want to smell like you. I want to smell like you all.”

As if Yeosang could reject a statement like that. 

In that moment, Yeosang knew he’d do anything you ask of him. In fact, it would be his absolute pleasure.

-

“You got to pick last time!”

“I got the remote first.”

There was a long groan and then, “Jongho, could you detach long enough to give a deciding vote?”

Against your neck, Jongho’s voice rumbled. “Not really no,” he muttered.

You didn’t think it was possible for a human to get scent drunk, merely an aspect of hybrid life that you would never get to experience. You had to be honest though, lying beneath Jongho’s broad form, pressed into the soft plush of the sofa, his face pressed against your neck and your face in his hair - you felt delirious. 

Since you’d agreed to be scented, it was like your boys couldn’t stop. Rubbing their wrists against yours to mix your scents or, whenever they got the chance, crowding you until they could bury their face against the beating pulse of your neck.

You couldn’t smell them like you would if you were a hybrid, but you what you could smell was nice. Jongho smelt like the woods and the crisp winter air he had been out in before he’d come home to you all.

Home, such a strange closeness but honestly, being surrounded by each of your hybrids, it was beginning to feel that way.

Not that you’d ever say it. No, that little confession was staying locked inside for now.

Beyond your vision, Seonghwa’s head peeked over you, expression fond, hair falling around his face like an incredibly attractive curtain. It was blond now, longer than it had been before, a fresh dye job for a new comeback. You had to keep repressing the urge to run your hands through it at every waking moment.

“Is baby bear hogging you?” He teased.

Jongho made a noise that may have been the words “not a baby” while you hummed contently.

“He is,” you agreed.

“Smells good though, the two of you together,” Seonghwa confessed. He brushed a hand through loose strands on your forehead. “Do you have a movie preference?”

“Something where I don’t have to think,” you replied.

The hare smiled fondly. He was so pretty, you thought, your Hwa. You had taken to calling him that more recently and each time, he bloomed, happy to your anything.

“Hyung,” Jongho complained, “You can woo her later. It’s my time with baby now.”

God did you love when Jongho called you baby. You held him closer, enjoyed the way his breath warmed your neck and his teeth nipped at the sensitive skin playfully.

You laughed and squirmed. “You gotta share me,” you chided, only half serious, “it’s supposed to be a pack date.”

If you were going to be a part of their pack, you needed to see how you fit into their dynamic, how you fit into their routines. Hongjoong’s eyes had lit up when you said it, ecstatic that you were thinking about pack and being part of them. Movie night and take away was an easy start, you all figured.

Yeosang and Mingi did rock-paper-scissors to decide on food. Yeosang won so fried chicken was ordered. The movie had been a longer debate, Hongjoong and Wooyoung pushing each others buttons whilst the others piped up to either try to appease or, in Yunho’s case, keep the argument going for his own amusement.

Jongho had been out with friends for the day, a rare day off that aligned, and when he’d arrived, he’d basically ignored his hyungs to corral you into his arms. Not that you were complaining - you very much were not.

Still, you weren’t quite ready to let him go just yet. You both shifted just enough that Seonghwa could eagerly slip his lap under your head, letting his fingers find their place in your hair, smoothing the strands out across his thighs.

Surrounded by the two of them, you felt warm, comfortable, lost to their careful touches.

You didn’t even last to the start of the movie before you fell asleep.

You woke up to low light and the low murmur of distant voices from a movie you didn’t recognise. Seonghwa was still acting as your pillow but you were no longer under Jongho’s weight. Instead, a blanket had been tucked around your shoulders.

Hongjoong smoothed a hand down your cheek and smiled when you leant into it. “You good beautiful?”

“How long was I asleep?” Your voice was raspy.

If anything that made Hongjoong smile widen. “About two hours.”

You pouted. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“You looked too cute,” was the simple reply, “and honestly, if you can fall asleep in the middle of our arguing, you must have been tired.”

You had to admit, you were. You found it difficult to sleep sometimes, thoughts swirling too viciously around your head, leaving you dizzy and wide awake. This was the best you’d slept in a while.

You pushed yourself up, untucking your legs and swinging them around to touch the floor. One glance at Seonghwa showed he’d fallen asleep too, head tilted against the back of the sofa. The room was dimmed, the only light coming from the hallway and the television screen. 

“I should get going,” you murmured, already thinking about finding your phone and ordering an uber.

But Hongjoong stopped you, hand moving to hold yours. “You should stay,” he corrected.

Your eyes flicked to him, took in the red pandas earnest yet embarrassed look. “We want you to stay,” he said, “It doesn’t have to be the den. We have our own bedrooms. Just...stay.”

So sweet and earnest, your heart ached. You sighed and leant forward to brush your lips across Hongjoong’s cheekbone. “Okay,” you agreed and breathed a laugh when Hongjoong perked up, wide eyed and excited.

“Okay?” He repeated, “Okay.”

You glanced down at your clothes, comfortable sure, but not bed attire. “Could I borrow some clothes?”

You didn’t expect the clatter of plates in the other room or the heavy pad of running feet, before Yunho appeared in the doorway, out of breath and face bright. “You can borrow mine!”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows furrowed. “She can borrow mine.”

Yunho frowned. “Why?”

“I’m the Captain,” he responded simply.

Another voice - Mingi’s - chimed in from the opposite sofa, “Come on hyung, you can’t pull rank about this.” 

“Yes I can,” Hongjoong retorted stubbornly.

“But I want her to wear mine,” it was Yeosang this time, voice breathy and quiet.

“You snooze you lose,” Yunho said dismissively, “I asked first.”

You blinked in surprise at the unexpected argument that broke out. “Is this a hybrid thing?”

Familiar arms slid around your waist, tugging you back against a broad chest. Seonghwa looked at you with hooded eyes. “Kind of,” he grumbled. He moved so he could snuggle his face into your shoulder. “It’s kind of like…making you ours.”

Well, that made you feel warm all over.

Seonghwa continued, “Besides, it’s a non-argument.”

“How so?”

“I’m the oldest, you should wear mine,” Seonghwa kissed the skin by your collar. You couldn’t help but laugh.

In the end, you wore a bit of everyone. Yunho’s shirt, Hongjoong’s shorts; a hoodie from Yeosang, a sock each from San and Wooyoung; Seonghwa’s house slippers, a beanie from Mingi and a blanket cape from Jongho (the last three had looked so dejected that you would have wore anything they gave you).

You all ended up asleep in the living room, you being uncertain about entering their den just yet and none of them waiting to leave you. It was hot and loud, all those bodies and sleeping habits pressed up against each other.

When Wooyoung shifted so he could hold your hand easier and Hongjoong moved your legs to rest comfortably in his lap, warm hands holding you there, you realised it didn’t really matter.

Maybe you were starting to become theirs.

Maybe you didn’t mind that you were.

--------------------------------------------------

a/n: my goal is to get chapter 4 posted this weekend while I'm inspired to write it so send me good vibes! comment and reblog if you enjoyed!

He could feel the way that his wolf was growing restless, back arching, nipping at the heels of his rational thoughts. Wooyoung tried to keep it hidden - because it wasn’t his mates fault, it wasn’t your fault, it was just instinct - but of course, it was obvious to those who knew him the very best.

His eomma worried loudly. His little brother offered him a safe space to get away. Yunho kept him wrapped in his calming scent basically every second of the day. Hongjoong and Mingi had let him fight it out with them when his alpha aggression got too much, working the burning tension from his burning muscles.

From a distance, it was manageable. Over messages, it was simple to pretend he was just the easy going flirt he preferred to portray himself as.

In person, however, it was different.

Wooyoung could smell you the moment you stepped into their home. The whimper he released was involuntary. You were so sweet and the fact that you were here, in his home, felt perfect. Like it should be. Like the world was righting itself.

He knew it wasn’t permanent. A movie night, Seonghwa had suggested. We all miss you, Yunho was honest. Please say you’ll come? Mingi had asked.

You’d go back to your apartment at the end of the night and Wooyoung knew he’d desperately chase your scent until it was just part of his imagination. 

Yeosang took your jacket and bag to put away for you. He was careful to only hold onto the fabric, fingers curled away from any bare skin, and yet Wooyoung still found himself watching intensely, body tense.

Yunho bumped his shoulder and Wooyoung had to put in effort to drag his gaze away. The beta’s expression was understanding just as much as it was scolding. “Breathe man,” he ordered.

The unspoken command was clear. Don’t fuck this up for us.

Wooyoung rolled out his shoulders, forced his fingers to unclench and curled his lips into a facade of an easy smile. When you looked at him, murmured his name in greeting, soft smile pulling at your flushed cheeks, it became much easier.

“Miss me, pretty girl?” Wooyoung teased.

Please say yes.

Your fingers played nervously with the hem of your skirt. “I...” you hesitated, eyes flickering to him and back again, “I...did.”

Wooyoung could have howled in delight then and there. “Good, I missed my pretty girl too.”

God, the way your scent bloomed - embarrassed and warm and so goddamn enticing - was addictive.

Seonghwa fluttered and checked in about the journey here. You had wanted to drive yourself but Hongjoong had been careful to explain that it would be safer to send a car.

The pack house was just on the outskirts of what could be called central Seoul. It had once been flats, a commodity during the housing boom and economic expansion during the 80s and 90s, but had been converted by previous owners into a pack home when the number of bonded packs had increased in the later 2010s. When they had renewed their last contract with KQ, they’d collectively bought the place with the bonus. 

Wooyoung still thought fondly of the dormitories - their first shared one and then the four they all rotated between when they made it big - but nothing beat this home of theirs.

It seemed even better now, with you there, looking every bit as if you belonged.

His wolf rumbled happily.

“We set up the main room,” Hongjoong explained. He gestured the way and you fell into step, the others all following behind like the eager puppies they were.

“Did you finally decide on a movie?” you asked. There had been many suggestions of the best movie night options that had gotten fiery at times in the lead up to the day.

“You’re the guest,” Seonghwa interjected smoothly, “You should choose.”

Wooyoung supposed it wasn’t the best impression of them that they’d almost had a wrestling competition to decide between Indiana Jones and Star Wars. San had Yunho pinned before Jongho had pointed out that maybe you should pick the movie.

“Are you sure?” you asked wide eyed, “I don’t want to put on something you don’t like.”

You sounded so concerned, as if Wooyoung didn’t know they’d sit through anything you wanted without complaint.

“We’ll like anything you pick,” Mingi assured.

In the living room, Seonghwa had taken charge and given orders for where things should go. In any other situation, it wouldn’t have been taken so seriously but they were all hyper aware of this being the first time their omega was going to be in their - and in the future, maybe yours as well - private space. Everything had to be perfect, their wolves reasoned, or their omega wouldn’t stay.

It was an innate thing, Wooyoung figured, something deep inside that wanted to prove he could provide and protect. Look, I know how to clean and decorate, total alpha material, right? 

Mingi had shoved the sofas back against the back walls and Yunho had the idea to bring in any extra chair they owned that could be sat comfortably long term.

“She should have options,” he had murmured as he tried to determine the best angle for a blow up armchair.

The only place you should be sitting was under his arm, soaked in his scent; Wooyoung's wolf wanted to argue but he held it back.

Yeosang had brought down his fancy projector. San had brought fairy lights on coupang because the mood just wasn’t quite right. Wooyoung had worked with Hongjoong and Jongho to drag the kitchen table into a corner and pile it high with snacks of every kind.

See, I can buy you all the snacks you want, you should let me mark you.

It was a bit much, obnoxious even against the plain wall, and it immediately drew your eye. It shouldn’t have made Wooyoung puff up in delight as much as it did.

You looked startled. “Guys, what’s...”

“We didn’t know what you wanted,” Jongho explained simply, “so we got some of everything.”

“Everything is right,” you murmured, “it’s too much.”

Yunho waved a hand dismissively. “Whatever we don’t eat now, Mingi and Hongjoong will eat in the middle of the night.”

Hongjoong made a noise of objection, and Mingi’s ears burned. He flicked the beta in the shoulder. “You make it sound like we’re goblins or something,” Mingi complained.

“It’s only when we’re working on a new release,” Hongjoong explained to you in their defense.

“Music geniuses need fuel,” you replied.

Seonghwa arched an eyebrow and joked, “Genius is a bit much. It’ll go to their heads.” though it was already too late for that, the two alphas were already beaming.

You giggled nervously. It really shouldn’t have been enough to make Wooyoung melt.

They found a seat across the space. Hongjoong took one of the plush floor cushions. Mingi and Seonghwa sunk into a loveseat, knees bumping against each other as they stretched out their long legs. Jongho dropped to one end of the long sofa with Yeosang beside him, while Wooyoung took the armchair he usually would. Yunho made the choice to sit near by him, which Woo did appreciate - he hated that the beta felt like he needed to keep a close eye on him, but Wooyoung was determined for today to be perfect.

You were selecting a seat when it happened. Your eyes swept over the space as if your choice was the most important thing to happen that day. Wooyoung was hyper aware of the open chair next to him and he hoped you’d want to join him.

He opened his mouth to ask, the words on the tip of his tongue - but San got there first.

The beta shuffled from foot to foot. “Would you...” San averted his gaze, nervous, “would you sit with me? And maybe we could…cuddle? If you wanted to.”

The room held its breath, bodies frozen to place in anxious anticipation. Mingi murmured San’s name nervously. Yeosang rubbed his thumb over his knuckles. Hongjoong’s shoulders tensed. Wooyoung could only stare, startled at the earnest look of his pretty beta. He didn’t expect San to actually ask.

And he definitely didn’t expect you - so nervous and skittish - to tense for a moment before offering a shy, “okay.”

Such a simple word, a step that should have had him feeling delighted. You wanted to touch them, to be touched by them. San had been struggling with his wolf since their first touch, desperately wanting to reaffirm that physical connection. 

Rationally, Wooyoung could understand that. He remembered how hard it was after his first touch with San, the beta always seeking touch from his loved ones whenever he got the chance.

San’s face blossomed in delight and god, his smile was so wonderful. “Okay, good, yes. You won’t regret it. I’m the best cuddler.”

Jongho murmured goodnaturedly, “we didn’t take a vote,” and you let out a wobbly laugh.

San held out his hand and you took it with shaky fingers. The beta led you to the space he always claimed on the sofa - usually with Yeosang caught under his broad arms, but it looked like the alpha was more than happy to give up his cuddle position, at least for the moment - and took great care in making sure you were as comfortable as possible.

Wooyoung could smell your increasing delight, could smell San’s overwhelming happiness and how it curled around the room. Your face was so red and your body looked so small beside San’s broad frame. His fingers curled around your shoulder, a loose grip that flexed when you angled your head into his shoulder.

You weren’t quite putting your scent mark on display, but it was there, through a curtain of hair. It was trust, Wooyoung knew, and he was so goddamn happy for San. Really, he was.

But it was hard to listen to anything reasonable when his wolf began unravelling.

Why did San get to touch our omega? Why, why why?

Wooyoung breathed through his nose and smelt you.

His lips curled into a snarl instinctively.

The noise cut through the quiet tension, louder than anything else, and quickly the positive atmosphere changed. Wooyoung could feel it, knew he was responsible but as much as he begged his wolf to calm down, it was too late. The beast had ripped through him, tugged at the longing in his chest and growled dangerously.

Why did San get to touch my omega? Mine. Mine. Mine.

Wooyoung clenched his teeth until his gums ached, and dug into the arms of the chair. Anything to ground himself. Ours, he tried to correct but his wolf wanted to roar in disagreement. Mine.

“Wooyoung...” Hongjoong’s voice was hard, trying to force its way through the animalistic haze. 

And then you, carefully tugging your legs in closer to your body - protective, he realised belatedly, scared - and sitting up taller. “Youngie...”

His wolf whined and whimpered in distress. It was his fault. Fuck, he had to get out of there. He had to - 

Wooyoung stood up, claws cutting into the fabric of the armchair and forcing pieces of stuffing into the area. He couldn’t concentrate it, vision blurring with frustration and mortification and, fuck, he’s ruined everything and -

“I need to go,” he forced out, voice rough and slurred through extended canines.

No one tried to stop him.

-

You watched Wooyoung - as he sped from the chaos he’d left in his wake. A plume of feathers from the torn chair caught in a breeze and floated at odd angles. The stench of upset and jealousy that you knew all too well contaminated the area. Your own scent - worried, panic bordering on terrified - swirled around you. San’s grip on your shoulder tightened, pulling you closer, as if he could physically protect you from this feeling.

It was such a familiar scent, directed towards you. In a moment, you could imagine yourself back there, words like daggers cutting deep as you apologised over and over again. In times before, you would have been trapped there, lost in a memory, but today, it was almost too easy to focus on the warm touch so steady against you, the enticing vanilla that was being pumped desperately out around you. The edges of the nightmare fractured and you were back in a pack house. One that smelt like yours in a way that his home never did.

You heard a murmur of your name and when you turned towards the source, Yeosang was watching you with despairing eyes. He reached for you, the instinctive need to comfort, but stopped himself before he did. He shouldn’t look so sad, you thought. None of them should.

“Are you okay?” Jongho peered over his hyung’s shoulder, body tense with barely controlled nerves. His dark eyes scanned every part of you, as if assessing a physical injury rather than an emotional one.

“I’m...” your voice sounded broken, even to your own ears. You cleared your throat. “I’m fine.”

It surprised you how true that actually was.

“You’re crying,” Mingi sounded wounded.

You blinked and startled at how the hot slide of tears down your cheek. You wiped it away and observed the wet mark left on the side of your hand. “I didn’t realise...” you shook your head. “What happened? Is Woo...”

Even with so many wolves around you, the Wooyoung shaped space was obvious and you felt it far stronger than you thought possible.

You hadn’t spent a lot of one on one time with the alpha, but he was always the first one to reply to your messages. You had thanked him for the breakfast place recommendation and you could remember his reply clearly. I hope to take you there myself if you let me, pretty girl.

Hongjoong’s eyebrows were furrowed together, eyes distant as if following his packmate from his seat. “He’s fine. His wolf has just been...finding the new situation hard.”

It wasn’t a surprise and yet it still hurt to hear. Your omega whined at the thought that your alpha was close by, hurting and it was because of you.

“I’m sorry,” you responded.

San hushed you softly. “You don’t have to apologise,” he promised, “you didn’t do anything wrong.”

But you did, didn’t you? You didn’t follow the typical expected role of a newly found omega. Your wolf had been yearning, sad and wistfully pining, but everyone was different. Your eyes drifted to the slashes in the upholstery. You couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be fighting the aggression of your instinct.

You shivered. San’s thumb traced patterns into your upper arm in silent comfort.

Yunho folded his legs closer to push himself up. “I should go find him,” he sighed.

Maybe it was the hold that didn’t hurt. Maybe it was the worry around you. Maybe it was the way your omega was tracking his scent from a far, just wanting to make sure your alpha was okay.

But you felt unexpectedly brave.

“No, I want to,” you said the words before you could second guess them.

“You don’t have to fix anything,” Seonghwa said.

“I know. I want to,” you said honestly and when you moved to your feet, you were allowed to go without protest.

“Backdoor,” Hongjoong angled his head in the direction of the kitchen, “he won’t have gone far.”

The pack alpha was right. Beyond sliding glass doors, there was a wide patio space with steps down into a garden and further into a wooded area. It was simple, sure, but you could imagine hosting here, imagine curling up under the stars, imagine running under the moonlight.

You couldn’t focus on it for too long - the hunched shadow that radiated exhausted sadness perched at the end of the patio was calling you closer. You moved slowly and when Wooyoung shifted, you froze, heart beating.

“You should go back inside,” he spoke, voice raspy and thick with sorrow.

“Maybe,” you agreed. You could hear the blood pounding in your ears but you forced yourself to keep moving closer. “But I don’t want to.”

“I could hurt you,” Wooyoung warned. The word ‘hurt’ curled with devastation.

You swallowed nervously. “Will you?”

The answer was quick. “Never.”

“Good,” you replied just as quickly. You took the steps onto the grass, felt the damp strands catch between your toes. When you settled on the decking, the stairs acted as a visible barrier between you both.

“I scared you though,” he laughed bitterly. From where you were sitting, the low outdoor lights illuminated the side of his face. He really was striking, you mused, even with eyes red rimmed. He pushed a hand through his hair, tangling the strands around each other. “Fuck. I didn’t - I’m so sorry.”

“Did I do anything?” you pushed.

“No. No, you didn’t, I -”

“Then you don’t have anything to apologise for,” you could hear Hajong’s voice, calm but firm. You still said sorry a lot but it was worse back then, still caught in a habit built over months of torment. “I would like an explanation though.”

Wooyoung was quiet for a long time, and you let him. You took the time to watch him - the shine of his lips, the point of his nose, the mole so perfectly placed under his eye. You watched long fingers fiddle with the hem on his sleeve and shoulders hunch down to make himself smaller.

“I’m not always like this. Out of control.” He finally said, “It’s just hard.”

He doesn’t have to elaborate. You already know what he’s talking about.

A reflective apology slipped through.

Wooyoung shook his head. “You don’t have anything to apologise for,” he parroted back. “You aren’t wrong. We barely know each other and biology is demanding that we throw ourselves at each other. You have every right to want more than that, and I want to give you that but-”

“It’s hard,” you finished for him, lamely.

Wooyoung’s lips quivered at the corner. “Have any of the others spoken to you about how the ATEEZ pack started?”

You shook your head.

“Did you know that I wasn’t supposed to be a part of it?” Wooyoung wondered, “Hongjoong hand picked everyone - except me. A last minute company add-on.”

The way he says it, bitter and twisted and mocking, makes your chest hurt. It feels like something deeper, something charged in a way that you’re terrified you might step on and cause more damage. You pump out your scent, an instinctive need to soothe. Wooyoung’s eyes fluttered close, his nostrils flaring and you hoped that you were helping ease that pain, even a little bit.

“Yeosang and I were friends before,” he murmured, “I’d always thought we were more, but it didn’t really make sense until we were together. But they didn’t want me. Fuck. It fucking hurt, looking at these people that the moon says are supposed to be mine and they just, didn’t give a shit. Not then.”

“They do now,” you said, “It’s hard not to miss how in love you all are with each other.”

“I am. I love them so fucking much,” Wooyoung rubbed at his nose, “and then you came along. My perfect mate, our omega, and I want nothing more than to be your alpha, your partner, to be part of your pack but you don’t,” the words hitched as they stumbled over themselves.

“I’m sorry,” the words are broken with guilt and tears burn at the corners of your eyes.

“No, no, it’s not on you,” Wooyoung insisted, “I promise, it’s not.”

“But I’m hurting you,” you muttered.

This time, Wooyoung looked at you with wet eyes. “I’d rather deal with a lifetime of this feeling than have you here when you don’t want to be,” he confessed.

You were struck by the realisation that he was being utterly sincere. You hadn’t really thought that Wooyoung - that any of them really - would actually lie to you but somewhere in your subconscious, perhaps you were preparing yourself for it.

You almost felt guilty for assuming such a thing, when the ATEEZ pack had been nothing but kind and understanding. They had been willing to let you go if that’s what you wanted and were willing to take any scraps of attention you gave them. No pressure, no guilt, just a quiet battle of instincts that they were scared to share with you.

You weren’t ready to tell them all that laid within you. In the light of the morning, it all might feel like a horrible mistake. You might convince yourself that the terror of a potential future is enough to hide from what they make you feel.

Because they do make you feel. Not just your omega - who has made it abundantly clear that she’d present herself eagerly if given half the chance - but the part of you held so many cracks.

Hongjoong, who respected every wish and boundary you had set without question, just happy that you were willing to be there.

Yunho, who came to every breakfast meeting you asked him to, regardless of how busy he was.

Seonghwa, who had called you once on a night where it was impossible to sleep and now it felt hard to fall asleep without his voice.

Yeosang, who worried about your health and every meal you ate, even going as far as sending lunch to work for you because he didn’t like the thought of you working yourself to sickness.

Jongho, who was quick to make you laugh and was the first person to ask you the questions the others were too nervous to.

Mingi, the first mate that you met, who has been sending you everything he finds interesting because he just wanted to share what he loves with you.

San, who had to deal with the same first touch, and yet looked at you with such delight when you agreed to hug him on a movie night.

And then Wooyoung, body tense from old scars, yet thinking about you even when things were getting tough for him.

Give them a chance, Hajong had said. For you. 

Now, you were stuck with the thought that you wanted to do it for them too.

“Hold out your arm,” you stumbled over the words.

Wooyoung blinked, startled. “What?”

“Just, do it,” you pushed, “please.”

He considered it for a moment, eyes scanning your expression, as if he could read your intentions in the quirk of your lip or the flicker of an eyelid. Then Wooyoung did as asked, arm stretched out towards you.  He even curled his fingers into his palm, making sure that there wasn’t even a chance he’d touch your bare skin without permission. 

Such a simple curtsey shouldn’t have made your omega keen in such a way. Good alpha, she nudged you.

For a moment, your conviction failed. While your omega tried to nudge you forward, your anxious mind whirled to life. What if nothing happens? What if everything happens?

It had felt like the worst kind of burn with San at first, trapped under so many eyes, but the second one - it felt right. His scent was so much stronger, his fingers warm when they pressed against your arm. When darkness tipped in, that connection had helped chase it away faster than any therapy had done previously.

Grounding, you decided. It was steady in a way that you had never felt before.

Because they’re ours, your omega piped in.

Ours, you agreed.

That made you brave.

Brave enough to push through the chaotic thoughts threatening to destroy you.

Brave enough to not shy away under Wooyoung’s gaze, intense and deeply affectionate, because he was already yours.

Brave enough to want to be his as well.

His breath caught when you wrapped your fingers - so much smaller compared to his, thicker compared to his long digits - around his sleeve covered wrist.

Wooyoung stuttered over your name, but didn’t move, didn’t withdraw. It was all down to you.

If you pulled away, folded your limbs back into your lap, you thought he would comfort you. He wouldn’t make you feel bad, would he?

“You don’t...” he started, giving you an out.

You shook your head. “It’s okay,” you murmured and sounded surer than you actually felt. “I want to.”

Your fingers shook when you moved them, towards the hem of the sleeve and then -

Wooyoung’s eyes flashed gold.

You know you answered in kind.

It still burnt, still rushed through you like fire in a windtunnel. It made every nerve you held tingle into high alert. It had your omega panting and howling in satisfaction. You matched your inhale to the rise of Wooyoung’s chest, felt the way his pulse jumped under your fingertips and the way his lips parted in a sigh.

He really was beautiful, you thought.

Our pretty mate, your omega hummed.

When Wooyoung let himself touch you back, slim fingers sliding across your own until he could grip them tightly. He held on to you like he was afraid you were going to take it back.

He said your name again, a whisper, a plea, a thank you.

“If things don’t work out,” you told him quietly, the words settling uncomfortably in your chest, “it won’t be because of you.”

Wooyoung ducked his head, pressed his forehead against the back of your hand. You could feel his breath, hot against your hyper sensitive skin. It made you shiver and hold on just a little tighter.

“If things don’t work out,” he whispered like it was a pray, “I’ll be happy to have just this moment.”

-------------------------------------

a/n: please comment and reblog! next chapter will likely be a mingi or jongho focused one - any preference?

🏷️ @quaxing-lour @yizhou-time @jpow345 @princelingperfect @aireagle92 @sourlimesoda @livonianmaia @wolfhallows4 @dachshunddame @glowingsoup @devilzliaison @stxrrywoo @minkieater @moooonadroses @arieltwvdtohamflash @koztion @sangis-puppy @sunnysidesins @itsmooniebaby @chandlxa @btsgangleader @satsuri3su @diearama @aethnie @sh1n3-4h4na @ja3hwa @hopelesslygroovyraven @everglow98 @nxur-nyx @weasleytwins-41 @katsukis1wife @whyiskpoptakingovermylife @hope122598 @Wolfhallows4 @Addi-3 @i-amtrash @Spenceatiny18 @huyasalamandra @christiinee @Victoriaaf @hannahdinse8 @okiedokiespookie @answer-the-sirens @iamagnesrrr @nanazuly @hope122598 @jiimtaee @becklynpro @joongsfantasy @salvaltor @Kandy108 @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @intowxnderland @Fertileleaf @soso59love-blog @ramadiiiisme @herpoetryprincess @bewitchedbitxh @heaven-s-hell @purelyhated @loverracha @liightlizard @elenas-kaleidoscope @m8teez @firestrike04 @berryguks @puppyminnnie (join the taglist)

You hadn’t really explained why and, though the question balanced on the edge of his tongue, he didn’t ask. It felt too personal of a question to ask someone he had just met, who had sat with discomfort thrumming through her body. Besides, it didn’t really matter why, just that you didn’t want them. 

Didn’t want his pack. 

Didn’t want him.

Hongjoong had managed to convince you to take his contact number, just in case, and you’d accepted it with a tight smile and a bow. When you’d left, the air had been sucked out of the room. Seonghwa clung to his arm like it was a lifeline, boba eyes watering as he tried not to weep in public, while Hongjoong grit his teeth and tried to act as if he wasn't a second away from breaking down.

You could still call, a hopeful part clung to the idea.

The pessimistic side whispered you can't really believe that.

“I don’t think I can be your omega.”

Beside him, soft footsteps sounded against wooden floorboards.

Hongjoong looked up, dragging himself from his thoughts, to blink up at San from his position on the largest sofa.

The beta was subdued. He had been since the photoshoot and the touch, disappearing into the privacy of his room the moment they were back home. Now, Hongjoong could see the tense arch to his shoulders, the way he was slouching just so as he moved closer, and how heavy his eyes looked.

“Can I sit?” San asked, quiet, unsure.

As if Hongjoong would ever say no.

San was a physically affectionate person, whatever he was feeling, and had no qualms about sharing it with others. Hongjoong lifted his arm, angled his body and San squeezed himself into the space there. He pressed his face into the head alpha's scent gland, seeking comfort in a familiar smell.

Hongjoong exhaled slowly. He put his hand through the hair at the back of San’s neck. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” was the automatic response. A lie that had Hongjoong tightening his grip on the back of the beta’s neck in silent warning. The tension drained from San’s body like it had been wrung from him. “I’m...struggling.”

“Understandable.”

“It was like burning,” he mumbled distantly, “Like a flame too hot was put against my skin and I couldn’t pull away.” His eyebrows knitted, “It shouldn’t have been like that. We should have had time to process and now my wolf is...wanting.”

There was something about the first touch of fated mates that had a physiological response. Hongjoong had read fairy stories about princesses and princes, about how it was a blessing to find one's own or a curse to be kept away from each other. Religions spoke about it being part of a god’s design, and scientists spoke about the desire of each wolf to find the right person to procreate with.

In the past, there were elaborate confirmation ceremonies to ensure that the foundation of a pack was blessed by the moon. Some still happened now and then, usually with more prominent families and with a lot more legal paperwork.

His own, with each of his mates, had been carefully decided by them all. A moment of peace and privacy, a time of connection. He'd tried so hard to be a good head alpha for them all, to make that moment whatever the others wanted it to be. Hongjoong hadn't cared, as long as he got to call them his.

But you and San?

To have it in front of so many people, under the orders of another, from a reluctant mate must be heartbreaking.

“She could change her mind,” Hongjoong murmured, an offer of assurance unknown, and let his scent wrap around his packmember.

San inhaled deeply. “I hope so,” he whispered the confession, fingers curling and uncurling. “If I feel like this, she must be feeling just as bad right?"

The alpha's lips curled in distaste at the thought of his omega being in any kind of pain, especially one he could solve so easily.

San continued, "Even if I just got to see her again one time, I think I’d be happy.”

“Me too,” Hongjoong agreed, but he knew that wasn’t true.

If he saw you again, if you reached out to him even for a moment, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself from clinging to you, too terrified to let you go.

They fell asleep like that, spread across the living room sofa, holding onto each other and dreaming of their omega.

-

The phone number, scribbled shakily onto the corner of a cafe napkin, felt like lead in your pocket. It made every step difficult and filled your subconscious.

You should forget about it. You had only taken it because the two had looked so startled, so subdued, so heartbroken at your refusal.

You understood, of course. It wasn’t as if your wolf wasn’t calling for them, wasn’t whining and irritable at the distance of each passing second. You tried not to think too hard about how the two had sat up straighter when you entered or how they had visibly collapsed in on themselves when you broke the news. 

At a different time in your life, you would have readily accepted it all. You had dreamed about your mates as a child, hopeful in their future love and the life placed before you. Your pack as a child had been small so you always thought you’d like a bigger one, where you weren’t the only child amongst a crowd of adult wolves. You’d dreamed of a pretty alpha and handsome omega that would sweep you off your feet, take you to their den and invite you to make a nest in your shared home. 

But that was the hope of a person who didn’t exist anymore.

Hajong noticed immediately that something was wrong. The beta had been your friend since you were in primary school when her pack had moved nearby to yours.

During community functions, she’d sought you out. You recalled her having no front teeth, grinning at you and chirping like a little bird more than a wolf. You were obsessed with her immediately, your first proper friend. You had shared jokes, heartaches and everything in between. When you had finished university, a shell of the person you once were, Hajong invited you into her home - a flat owned by one of her pack’s betas where she and her soulmate lived - without a second thought. 

She knew you like the back of her hand.

She eyed you thoughtfully as you hung up your coat and walked on sock clad feet into the kitchen. You murmured your greetings on the way to the fridge to grab your leftovers and warm them up in the microwave. You closed your eyes to the hum of the machine.

“What’s wrong?” Hajong asked.

“Nothing.”

“Liar,” she shot back, “You’re cracking your knuckles. Plus, you smelt like burnt toffee.”

You caught yourself just before pressing down on your hand at her words. “Love you too Hajong-ah,” you muttered bitterly.

When you looked at her, she was frowning at you, eyebrows furrowed. She didn’t need to coerce you. She knew you’d break and tell her everything eventually. You always did.

The microwave dinged and you sighed. “I....I think I found my mates.”

Hajong was quick. She sat up straighter and her voice was sharp. “Think or know?”

You hesitated before answering. “Know. I know.”

“How?”

Hajong didn’t mean it as a challenge. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust your judgement but you’d been down this road before - this nightmarish and painful road. She could remember a time where you had said the exact same thing and had been horribly wrong. Hajong wasn’t about to let you go through it again.

You pondered your answer. You thought about that first moment, when you’d seen Mingi before the photoshoot had even started. The way his scent had seemed to overcome you, even from such a distance. The way your wolf had whined and claimed him so confidently. The way that he had paused, eyes flashing, and stared at you. Like you were everything he had been looking for. You pushed that thought away.

“My omega,” you pressed your hand to your chest and felt the unsteady beating of your heart. “She’s so sure and when I touched-” you clicked your jaw shut.

Hajong looked shocked. “You touched them? Already?”

You nodded shyly. “One of the betas. There's 3 of them, and 5 alphas. They - he was the client and Taeji-sshi told me to go help position him and I didn’t, I couldn’t say no and he didn’t know that-”

“You didn’t say anything?” she asked, “they didn’t say anything?”

“We were at work,” you finished lamely.

It almost felt like you had to justify yourself. You still felt the thrum beneath your fingertips, tugging at your senses, distracting you almost as much as the crooning wolf at the back of your head.

If you let yourself stop, it was easy to remember how soft his - San, your mind supplied with ease - skin felt, how strong his jaw was; how his eyes had tracked you, heavy with barely concealed emotion, and how pretty they looked when they responded to you. 

His wolf must be having a hard time, you thought absently, and then immediately shut yourself down.

You don’t care. 

You can’t.

Hajong could have pressed but she didn’t. She tapped an uneven beat on the tabletop. “When are you going to see them again?”

You shook your head. “Never.” She said your name softly, sadly, but you pushed on ahead. “I can’t be their omega.”

“Can’t or won’t let yourself be?” Hajong challenged.

You swallowed. You had worked hard to remove yourself from the darkness of your past. You’d thought you were going to die. Your human heart had been destroyed and your wolf had retreated so far into you in response that you’d been terrified you might not get her back again. The omega had eventually, months later, following the breadcrumbs of hope that your closest friends and your therapist had laid out for her.

Sometimes, on the worst days, it felt like you’d wake up and she’d be gone again, leaving this gap of nothingness within yourself.

“...won’t let myself,” you confessed, voice faint, as if putting it out the world would destroy you. Maybe it already was, the words rocking through you, making your skin crawl.

“Do you want my honest opinion?” Hajong asked.

“Aren’t you going to give it anyways?” you retorted, edged by the sharpness of your emotions.

She didn’t even blink. “Stop punishing yourself for past mistakes,” she was blunt in a way that made you flinch. “Don't even think about them - you don’t deserve to suffer any more than you already have. Your wolf must be trying to wreck you from the inside out. You don’t have to do anything, be anything, for them, but you should do it for yourself.”

Hajong got up to press a kiss to your cheek and nuzzled affectionately against your scent gland. Her scent of sea salt overlapped with your sweet one. It was comforting, even as her words echoed around your head, punishing you with their sincerity.

Were you punishing yourself? You wondered, or just trying to protect yourself from future pain?

Hajong smoothed a hand along your cheek. “Just...reconsider meeting them, okay? Just one time.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

She murmured that she was going to shower. “Do you want to watch something together after? Deokyum won't be home until late.”

You swallowed around the thickness in your throat. “I’m tired, I think I should just go to bed.”

Another lie. You both knew there was no way you’d be sleeping tonight. This time, Hajong accepted your answer and slipped away, leaving you to your thoughts and your rapidly cooling dinner.

-

Yeosang wished he’d looked at you more.

It was such a small thought yet it kept coming back to him.

He recalled how you were smaller than him with dark hair and bangs that fell around your face, like you were trying to hide behind them. He could pick out the soft lilt of your voice and the faint line of pink that was chasing up the back of your neck the longer they stood there. He could remember your scent, sweet like most omegas were but so much better. Intoxicating.

His wolf had reared back to smell it better and the urge to get closer, to get it from the source, had been immense.

But they were at work.

Yeosang tried to watch you when you weren't looking but he knew you caught him a few times. Embarrassment curled within him and he’d snap his gaze away, pointedly focusing on anything but you.

And when you had touched San, it was like a jealous fire had been lit under him. He wanted you to touch him like that too, he thought, so gentle and careful. 

Later, he’d reasoned, later he would know more about you than your name and your scent. Later, he would hold your hand and listen to you talk about whatever you wanted.

Because you were his omega.

You were his pack.

Except you weren’t.

Yeosang still felt sickness curling in his stomach at the idea that you didn’t want to be theirs. Hongjoong had sounded so emotionless when he told them, even though he was sure to be broken inside. He must be. Yeosang definitely was.

It had only been ten days but it felt like a lifetime of emptiness. Which was ridiculous, he reminded him. They’d only met you once, barely knew you, but their wolves were distressed, searching for something that wasn’t nearby because once they knew it existed, they weren’t able to let it go. It was a constant reminder, an ache that grew with each passing second of absence.

As a pack, they haven’t spoken about it since, each processing things in their own way, but it could be felt in the air. Jongho was in a silent withdrawal, gaze distant. He forgot his own strength once and put a mug down so hard it cracked on the tabletop. Mingi and Wooyoung were snapping at each other over small things, Yunho and Seonghwa trying desperately to calm the mounting tension between them. San had been clinging to Hongjoong, as if the head alpha could ease the pain he felt in his chest.

Yeosang tried to help where he could but he was never good with conflict and any snap back made him recoil.

That just happened to be the boiling point.

Mingi and Wooyoung were at it again, teeth bared and words sharp. It was something about laundry being left or the wrong snack eaten in the fridge - it didn’t really matter why, just that emotions were boiling and becoming uncontrollable.

Yeosang had tried to calm the tensions as best he could but when Wooyoung had snapped at him, a harsh order to mind his own business, he’d flinched back.

“Don’t talk to him like that,” San snapped.

Wooyoung sneered. “What? Yeosang doesn’t need you to fight his battles for him. He’s a big wolf.”

“Hey, be fucking respectful,” Mingi ordered, “He’s just trying to help calm down your sorry arse.”

Wooyoung spun to him. “My sorry arse?” he repeated, voice heavy in mocking disbelief, “You’re the one who got his panties in a twist about something fucking meaningless.”

Yeosang relaxed at the press of Seonghwa’s familiar hands against the back of his neck. The beta rubbed at his scent gland affectionately, pumped out his scent as thickly as he could to cover the sour note that Yeosang had taken on. It was helpful, he admitted, to lose himself in the scent of warm tea leaves that Hwa always had.

Jongho was up, arms folded across his chest, and gritted out the words, “Both of you need to take a breather.”

Mingi scoffed. "Don't lump me in with this bastard."

Yunho placed himself firmly between the two alphas, hands splayed across each chest. “Guys, this isn't helping,” he frowned.

“Don’t start that shit with me,” Wooyoung took a step forward, pushed against the beta’s grip. “It’s this arsehole who started it.”

“Started what?” Mingi snarled, “You’re the one who-”

“Enough.”

Pack alpha voice. Hongjoong rarely used it, rarely had to, but when he did, it always had the same effect. Wolves deflating, ears pricked in attention; ears ringing as his pack was forced to obey instinctively.

Seonghwa’s fingers flexed around his neck as Yeosang looked over at their head alpha. He was standing in the doorway of the living room, one gripping the doorway and the other clenched at his side. He didn’t look angry, jaw relaxed, shoulders slumped but his eyes were flashing gold with high irritation.

When he spoke again, Hongjoong was quiet and everyone strained to hear him. “This isn’t how we solve our problems,” he told them firmly, “Apologise.”

Mingi looked like he’d shrunk and Wooyoung just looked tired. Both murmured their sorries, voices thick with emotion now that the anger had bled away.

“And to Yeosang,” Hongjoong pushed.

Wooyoung’s voice broke when he did. 

“Now sit,” the pack alpha ordered, “pack meeting.”

Everyone gathered in the living room, bodies perched on the edge of sofas or sitting on the floor at the foot of others. Seonghwa came to sit next to Yeosang, arm slipping over his shoulder in comfort, while Jongho sat on the sofa’s arm beside him. Mingi and Wooyoung sat on opposite ends of the space, not quite ready to mend bridges, with Yunho and San between them like a barrier. Hongjoong sat crossed legged on the floor, back against the wall as he took in each of his pack members.

After a moment, he spoke. “We met our omega.”

Yeosang swallowed. His alpha whined.

Hongjoong’s voice weakened just for a moment as he continued. “She doesn’t want...” he trailed off, gritting his teeth because it was just too hard to say. “Our wolves are going crazy. We need a solution that isn’t ignoring each other or tearing each other apart.”

“It’s exhausting to try and keep the peace,” Yunho admitted, “as if only one of us is affected.”

Mingi ducked his head to press against the side of the beta's in an attempt to comfort and apologise.

“She touched me,” San murmured, “and my wolf hasn’t stopped craving her. I can’t get it to stop.”

“We all are,” Wooyoung retorted, before he caught himself and exhaled his frustration slowly. When he spoke again, his voice was measured, honest in its yearning. “At least you got your first touch...”

“Maybe we should go to therapy,” Jongho murmured. “If it doesn’t get better...”

“I can find someone who specialises in bond breaks,” Seonghwa visibly winced at the phrase. Yeosang did too.

Hongjoong smiled faintly. “It might be our only option. I wish I could help you all more.”

“She’s your omega too,” Yeosang reminded him carefully, “it’s okay not be okay.”

He tried to be strong for them, their pack alpha. At work, Hongjoong stood in their corners and fought for each of them to be treated with respect. He supported every endeavour or experience they wanted to try. At home, he soothed distress and offered stability in words and presence when needed. He took his job as pack alpha seriously, always put them before himself, and sometimes it was easy to forget that Hongjoong was suffering too.

For a second, Yeosang thought he saw pain reflected in the alpha’s eyes before it was gone.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and Hongjoong sighed tiredly, already moving to reach for it. Yeosang watched him look at the message and freeze. His scent spiked lighter.

Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed. “What is it?”

Hongjoong licked his lips. “It...it’s her.”

“What?” Seonghwa’s heart leaped.

San sat up straighter. “Really?”

“What did she say?” Wooyoung demanded to know.

Hongjoong passed the phone around to each of them. Yunho covered his mouth. Mingi shuddered an inhaled breath. Wooyoung muttered a surprised curse. San closed his eyes. Seonghwa’s hands shook when he passed the phone to Yeosang. Jongho pressed in close to reach over the other alpha’s shoulder.

Yeosang could recite that text message long into the night, the words echoing around his head in disbelief.

A part of him thought it was a cruel trick or a hallucination. Seonghwa had said you sounded so certain. And yet, the message was there, formal and distant. It was embarrassing, the insurmountable amount of hope it gave to them.

Hongjoong-sshi. It’s ----.

I want to talk with you and your pack.

Can we meet?

---------------------------------------------------------

a/n: comments and reblogs are appreciated! please let me know what you think :)

🏷️ @quaxing-lour @yizhou-time @jpow345 @princelingperfect @aireagle92 @sourlimesoda @livonianmaia @wolfhallows4 @dachshunddame @glowingsoup @devilzliaison @stxrrywoo @minkieater @moooonadroses @arieltwvdtohamflash @koztion @sangis-puppy @sunnysidesins @itsmooniebaby @chandlxa @btsgangleader @satsuri3su @diearama @aethnie @sh1n3-4h4na @ja3hwa @hopelesslygroovyraven @everglow98 @nxur-nyx @weasleytwins-41 @katsukis1wife @whyiskpoptakingovermylife @hope122598 @Wolfhallows4 @Addi-3 @i-amtrash @Spenceatiny18 @huyasalamandra @christiinee @Victoriaaf @hannahdinse8 @okiedokiespookie @answer-the-sirens @iamagnesrrr @nanazuly @hope122598 @jiimtaee @becklynpro @joongsfantasy @salvaltor @Kandy108 @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @intowxnderland @Fertileleaf @soso59love-blog @ramadiiiisme (join the taglist)