tender heart - feraljk - 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Hoseok allowed himself a moment—just a moment—to rest, crouching in the alley with his arms wrapped around his legs, heavy eyes closed, unable to fully relax as he listened intently for sounds of anyone coming near. He had eight minutes before his shift at the factory and it took six to get there. Two was plenty for a quick rest, just to get the energy he needed for another eight hours of leers and monotony and time on his feet. It didn’t help that this job followed his five-hour early morning shift in a hotel laundry room, and preceded his least favorite shift of hoping-not-hoping someone who wasn’t cruel would find his too-thin body appealing enough to pay for it.

Maybe they’d even let him stay the night. Going home to his father felt like the most laborious job of all, one that required carefully acquired skills of silence and obedience and being as unobtrusive as possible. No matter how quiet he was or how submissive he was, however, he somehow always seemed to make himself a target, known and present and incredibly unwanted. Omega sons were nothing to be proud of, after all. Ugly omega sons that were nothing but a burden even less so.

He tried to not admit it to himself, but he was exhausted. He was constantly sore, constantly on edge, constantly—

Hoseok jerked awake with a horrible burst of nausea. Ten minutes had passed. Ten minutes. He was late. He was late and he was already on thin ice, being an omega and a distraction and practically a pity hire, and by the time he got there, he would be eight minutes late and there was no way, no way, that would go unnoticed. He leapt to his feet and ran as fast as he could, trying to not push people aside as he sprinted down the sidewalk, and arrived only five minutes after he was supposed to be there, panting and with a frantically-beating heart but relief that it wasn’t as bad as it could be, that maybe he saved himself, that maybe he could sneak in and get to work and keep his head down and work doubly hard, as doubly as he could, to make up for it.

But the second he clocked in and stepped onto the floor, he saw someone in his usual position on the assembly line,fingers nimbly putting parts together, head down, working hard in his place. His supervisor caught his eye and gave him a grim frown.

“Jung.”

“S-sir—sir,” Hoseok swallowed, trying to stop his hands from shaking so badly. “I’m so sorry, it won’t happen again, I just—”

“Save it, kid,” he sighed. He was one of the kind ones. He didn’t make lewd comments or shoot him disparaging glares or corner him in the break room, but he was still an alpha who saw him for what he was, and Hoseok knew what was coming. The supervisor held out his hand and Hoseok handed him his key card, feeling like he was handing his hope off with it. He tried to hide his sudden sheen of tears but maybe it was a good thing he didn’t succeed, because there was some amount of sympathy in the alpha’s voice. “You can list me as a reference. I’ll put in a good word.”

“Thank you, sir,” Hoseok said quietly, not meeting his eye. He turned and left and stood outside the door, trying to figure out what the f*ck he could do. His father would notice the missing wages and there was no way in hell he would be going home without figuring out what to do, how to make it better, solving it somehow.

He knew what the fix was. It made his stomach turn with nausea again and tears bit at his eyes again, but he knew.

It took him longer than normal to walk to his usual spot but he couldn’t make himself move any faster, his legs lead-heavy with dread as he forced every step. The numbers ran through his head; he needed make just over 80,000 won to make up for the loss; he usually charged 20,000 for a handjob, 25 for a blowj*b, 50 for a f*ck. If he managed to get just one pickup at this time of day, he would be lucky—beyond lucky. Maybe he could request extra hours at the hotel, but that supervisor didn’t like him much either, and he was already being paid under the table and he very much doubted that would work out. Not enough to make the difference.

Hoseok made it to the awning he had claimed as his haunt a couple years back and leaned heavily against the wall, trying his best to not panic too much, not let his heart race too much, not feel too much like dying was the preferable option. The last was the hardest, no matter how much he rebelled against it. As he predicted, every car passed him by, every businessman stayed straight-laced under the sun no matter how skeevy they would turn at night, every eye turned away from him, pretending he wasn’t there, that he wasn’t an unfortunate necessity, that the distressed omega scent he was without a doubt giving off wasn’t wafting through the air.

He had closed his eyes again, letting his head thump against the cement wall, hugging himself to fight off anxiety and the bitter cold, when he heard a throat clear pointedly. He startled and snapped to attention, immediately hurrying to the fancy SUV that had pulled up to the curb. The alpha was handsome, clear-faced with carefully styled dyed-silver hair, in a clearly expensive suit. In Hoseok’s experience, the richer the man, the weirder his kinks, but he was in no position to ignore a potential customer. He never was.

“Hi, there,” Hoseok said, putting on his most attractive smile and coming closer, leaning on the open window. “How can I help you, gorgeous?”

“Are you looking to help someone?” Gorgeous asked with a handsome smile to match his handsome face. The handsomer, the harsher, but Hoseok couldn’t care now.

“I’m very helpful,” Hoseok tried to make his eyes project want like he had seen some of his fellows do, but they always had a tiny bit more brightness about them and he wasn’t sure if he accomplished it. Gorgeous unlocked the door and Hoseok opened it, sliding into the warm car gratefully.

“Namjoon,” Gorgeous said, holding out his hand.

Hoseok blinked and hesitantly shook it. He wasn’t used to anyone giving their real name, but Namjoon was a little too real to be a pseudonym. He couldn’t help but return the favor, no matter his usual reluctance. “Hoseok.”

“Hoseok-ssi,” Namjoon said, smiling and rolling up the window. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Hoseok wasn’t sure what he expected. He didn’t get dangerous vibes from the alpha, but he knew (from others’ stories more than his own experience, thankfully) that vibes could be deceiving. He could sense a hint of expected attraction, but it wasn’t—prominent, oddly. “What are you looking for today, Namjoon-ssi?”

“Company,” he answered, glancing over at him. “Is that okay?”

Hoseok doubted that was all he was looking for, but he could roll with surprises. “Of course.” He watched him carefully from the corner of his eye, assessing. “My company is good enough to charge, though, you know?”

“Of course,” Namjoon smiled. “Name your price.”

His mind blanked momentarily. This is my chance, he thought before blurting out, “Hundred-thousand won.”

“Sure,” Namjoon said without hesitation. Hoseok felt a rush of disbelief surge through him. “Plus lunch, if you don’t mind. I’m starved. What are you feeling?”

“Uh—” Hoseok blinked, perplexed. “Sure, uh. I’ll take anything you give me.” He tried to inject suggestive into his voice, still surprised at his ready acceptance of the overcharge and hoping maybe, maybe he could get a tip whenever Namjoon revealed his true intentions.

“Any allergies?” he asked, and Hoseok shook his head. “How does hot pot sound?”

“Hot pot, uh—” Hoseok’s stomach grumbled as if on cue and he hugged himself tightly, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks. “That sounds great. Yeah.”

Namjoon smiled and turned on the radio quietly. Hoseok stopped himself from humming along. “So, Hoseok. What do you like to do?”

He couldn’t help but like the sound of his name in Namjoon’s voice. “Oh, anything. You name it. Gentle, rough, I’m great at deepthroating—”

Namjoon laughed, a little flustered. “I mean—hobbies.”

Hoseok blushed brightly again, swallowing his embarrassment. “Oh. I don’t—have many. Any.”

“If you had any, what would you do?” he asked.

“Uh. I used to like dancing? I’m still good, if you’d like to get a personal show,” he shot him a wink, trying to save himself.

Namjoon laughed again. Hoseok liked the sound of it as much as he liked his name. “That might shock the other patrons, don’t you think?”

Hoseok shrugged, looking out the window as Namjoon pulled into a lot next to the fanciest hot pot place he had ever seen. “Exhibitionism has its appeal.”

With a snort, Namjoon turned off the car and got out, and before Hoseok could do the same, Namjoon came around to the other side and opened the door for him.

“A gentleman. Are you sure you only want company?” Hoseok joked to cover up his nerves. Namjoon just grinned and led him inside. Hoseok tried to ignore how out-of-place he felt among people in business-wear on their lunch break—he was so shabby in comparison, too aware of his holey jeans, frayed shirt hem and worn shoes. He felt obvious, especially next to Namjoon, who was so different from himself that he felt he had to look like the whor* he was.

Thankfully, Namjoon ordered for them, sensing Hoseok’s nervousness as he looked at the menu. Overcharging for company was already enough, he didn’t want to get greedy, even though the tastiest cuts of meat were, by far, the most expensive. He sipped slowly on his water just for something to do with his hands.

“What year were you born?” Namjoon asked.

Hoseok knew he looked younger than he was; he was relatively short and likely stunted from being underfed throughout his life, eyes youthfully large on his thin face. He hoped Namjoon wasn’t looking for someone young; those johns were the worst. He considered lying for a moment but decided against it. “Ninety-four.”

Namjoon’s eyes lit up and he smiled brightly. “Really? Me too.”

“Oh,” Hoseok blinked and couldn’t help but be charmed by his excitement. “You look older.” His words caught up with him and he rushed to clarify. “I mean—you look very, uh, fancy, just—your suit. Successful. You know, not—”

Namjoon laughed and reached across the table to touch his hand. “I understand, Hoseok-ssi, it’s okay. And thanks. You look younger.”

“I know. I still get ID’d buying cigarettes.”

“Ah, you smoke?” Namjoon asked.

“No, uh. My father does.”

Namjoon nodded and smiled politely at the waitress as she dropped off their food. “Thank you. You have a lovely voice, that’s all. It would be a shame to rough it up.”

“I can think of more fun ways to rough it up, you know,” Hoseok winked, and felt a bit of joy when Namjoon blushed and ducked his head before starting to spoon some of the hot pot into bowls. Hoseok noticed him loading most of the meat into one of them and felt a little touched when it was handed to him. He forced himself to hold back and not immediately attack it, no matter how starved he felt. “Thank you, Namjoon-ssi.”

“Aya, just Namjoon, please,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “We’re same age friends, after all.”

“Friends?” Hoseok asked, amused.

“Friends enjoying each others’ company, yes. Well,” Namjoon blinked, “I don’t mean to assume I’m good company, but I’ve been told I’m at least average.”

“You’re good company, don’t worry. Better than average,” Hoseok assured with a grin, finally allowing himself to take a bite. He couldn’t help the quiet moan that he let out, though he couldn’t feel embarrassed. “God, this is good—”

Namjoon laughed as he began to eat, as well. “I know. It’s one of our favorites.”

“Our?” Hoseok’s eyes widened as he realized the implication. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be nosy, that was inappropriate.”

“My mate, and my pack.” Namjoon gave him a careful look. “I meant it when I said I only want company.”

Hoseok glanced as his neck and saw a mating bite just barely peek out of his shirt collar. There were many, many mated men who weren’t loyal like him, and Hoseok could only hope they showered well before their mates smelled their infidelity. It would break his heart if it were him. He didn’t want to cause that for others. But he was willing to bet that he had. “Sorry. I’ve been impolite.”

“Don’t worry, Hoseok-ssi, you didn’t know.”

“Ha. I can’t call you Namjoon and you don't do the same.”

“Hoseok-ah,” Namjoon corrected himself with a smile. He made pleasant conversation as they ate their meal, avoiding the subject of why Hoseok was working, thankfully, and not giving him the pity that always made him feel pathetic and worthless. He avoided the subject of why he picked Hoseok up, too, even though he was pretty sure it was the same pity, he just didn’t voice it. Hoseok was disappointed when Namjoon checked his watch and clicked his tongue. “I have to get back to work, I’m afraid. I have a meeting I would love to skip, but—”

“Of course,” Hoseok smiled, bowing his head at the waitress as Namjoon paid the bill with a heavy card and followed him out, fully expecting to wave him off.

“Where can I drop you off?” he asked.

Hoseok blinked. “Oh, uh. Maybe—where you picked me up?”

Namjoon nodded and opened the door for him, a gentleman again. Hoseok got in and allowed himself to hum quietly to the radio this time, slightly more comfortable. “I wish I had more time with you, Hoseok,” he said when he pulled back up to the curb.

“You’ll have to see me again, then,” Hoseok smiled, though he knew better than to hope. “And—” he hesitated. “Lunch was enough, really. I enjoyed it. You don’t owe me.”

Namjoon gave him a stern look before pointedly pulling out his wallet, taking out a few bills and handing them over. Hoseok took them and put them in his pocket without counting. “I do hope to see you again.”

Hoseok nodded and smiled a little. “Thank you,” he bowed slightly, giving him a little wave as Namjoon drove off. Only when he was out of sight did Hoseok turn to quickly count, glad to see there was a hundred thousand bill on top, plus another few under it. He froze, staring. Six bills in total, a hundred thousand each, six hundred thousand—

He spun around, even though he knew Namjoon was already gone. He was so sure it was a mistake, it had to be, maybe he was trying to hand him five thousand extra at most, but. He thought of Namjoon’s bright smile and kind eyes and the lack of obvious pity Hoseok knew he must feel, and knew it wasn’t unintentional. Six hundred thousand. Plus the most filling meal Hoseok had eaten in God knows how long.

Hoseok knew the smart thing to do would be to stay in his spot, work some more, but that was an entire week’s wages from the factory, or half a week from the corner; it was a month’s worth of groceries; it was half a month’s rent; it was enough to try to find another job to replace the loss before his father even noticed. He wasn’t religious, but Hoseok was almost sure Namjoon was an alpha angel. He knew he should stay, but he couldn’t make himself. He would come back that night, and it would be fine. More than fine. So much more than fine.

His father was asleep on the ratty sofa when he went home late that night (or early that morning, just past three), but he woke when he heard the squeaky apartment door close. He gave Hoseok a glare and an expectant grunt, and Hoseok silently handed him one of the bills from Namjoon plus the seventy thousand he had earned from two patrons who were definitely not alpha angels, not even close to as kind as Namjoon. He swallowed nervously, almost sweating at the thought of his father somehow knowing he was hiding more in his back pocket, bills pressed flat so they wouldn’t show an outline, knowing it would be the end of him if he found out. But his father snatched the offered cash and put it on the side table, turning on his side and falling back asleep, as if Hoseok didn’t exist.

He retreated to his closet of a room, quietly tucking the bills into a hole on the underside of his mattress before collapsing into bed, covering himself with his thin blanket and feeling oddly at ease, even with the typical undercurrent of anxiety, and fell quickly into a deep sleep.

It seemed like no time at all til his tinny phone alarm went off at five, but he knew better than to press snooze, especially after the previous afternoon’s mishap. With an exhausted sigh, he rubbed his eyes and got ready for another long, tiring day. He worked through his laundry shift without talking to a single person, even though he would have been delighted for chatter, but he spent the time steeling himself for his next mission—applying to any factory within walking distance, hoping that he would get a bite soon, hopefully in the next few days, before his stash from Namjoon ran out and he was unable to hand his father the expected amount.

None of the office workers seemed receptive when he was given an application to fill out, nor thankful when he returned it. He hoped there would be an opening, hoped there would be someone desperate to fill a position, but he felt hope fading with every dismissive look. It took a few hours to extinguish his options, and he ended up under his usual awning. He glanced at every car that passed and his eyes caught on every single SUV that passed. He didn’t notice for a long while, but he felt a pang of disappointment as every one passed. It was ridiculous to hope for Namjoon to stop by again. Absurd. And yet.

He could almost taste the disappointment he felt when an SUV pulled up and it wasn’t Namjoon, but instead, another well-dressed, smirking man who did not take him to lunch, but demanded a blowj*b in a dark parking garage, the way he forced Hoseok to take him down at an awkward angle hidden by tinted windows. He gave Hoseok twenty thousand after he spat instead of swallowed, five thousand less than he charged.

Hoseok knew arguing was no use and he watched him drive off, leaving him in the garage. He stopped at a 7-Eleven on the trek back to his spot, unable to resist splurging on something that would get the taste of the man’s bitter come out of his mouth. What was a couple thousand less, really, he reasoned—he knew what it was, though, but it might have been worth a beating just for a brief moment of relief.

Namjoon didn’t come that afternoon or that evening. Hoseok knew it was stupid to hope, but hope came anyways, every time he was picked up and dropped off and left in the biting cold. At least he had friends in the ladies who shared the corner with him and was grateful for their distracting conversation and jokes about alpha knots and beta complexes.

“Don’t,” said one of them, after Hoseok had been unable to hold back and told them about the 'really nice john' he met the day before. “You’ve been doing this a couple years, baby. You know that can only bring you trouble.”

Hoseok nodded with a sad little sigh, looking away. He did know. He’d seen it a few times; whor*s getting a little too attached to a customer, only to be thrown back to the dogs when the alpha got tired of them. He thought Namjoon was different, but, well—they all thought that at first, didn’t they?

He was back under the awning the next afternoon, the sound on his sh*tty phone turned up just in case he got a call back from one of the factories. He glanced at every SUV that passed just like before and was prepared to be disappointed again when one pulled up, the window rolling down—but there was Namjoon, smiling at him with perfect teeth and pleased eyes, giving him a wave as if they were close friends who happened to run into one another.

“Hoseok-ah!” he greeted with a grin.

“Namjoon-ah,” Hoseok said after he got over his brief shocked silence. “I didn’t think, uh—”

“Ah, I said I hoped to see you again. I thought I’d see if you were here. Lunch?”

The door unlocked and Hoseok got in without hesitation, glad for the warmth. “I owe you quite a bit of company, you know.”

“No idea what you mean,” Namjoon said, but he grinned, pulling out and starting back down the street. “I was thinking barbecue, but I have to tell you, I burn the meat every time. Are you any good at it?”

“I don’t have much practice, but I can cook, so, uh. Probably?”

“Thank God. I’m not great in the kitchen, no matter how much I try,” he admitted with a guilty grin. “My mate’s stopped letting me even attempt.”

“Do you love them? Your mate?” Hoseok blurted, then went absolutely red. “Sorry, f*ck, I—I’m sorry. I can’t keep my mouth shut sometimes.”

“Aya, it’s okay,” Namjoon reached over and patted his knee.. “I love him more than anything. If I start talking about him, I’ll never stop, I swear.”

“That’s—that’s nice. Sorry.”

“Hush, I said it’s okay.” Namjoon gave him a genuine smile. From anyone else, hush would have sounded condescending, very ‘act demure, omega, know your place.’ From Namjoon, it sounded fond, and Hoseok didn’t know what to do with that.

Namjoon opened the door for Hoseok again when they got to the restaurant; Hoseok gave his arm a squeeze, unable to resist touching just a little. His muscular arms were too tempting, even if he was in love with his mate. Namjoon only smiled and led him in, and Hoseok was glad to see that it was more low-key than the previous restaurant and he didn’t feel as out of place—though it was with a bolt of embarrassment that he realized he was wearing the same thing as the first time they met. He only had three outfits to choose from, really. He just hoped Namjoon would think it was clean enough.

“So—” Namjoon said after ordering. “What have you been up to?”

“Uh,” Hoseok laughed awkwardly. “Working.” He tried not to divulge too much information about himself to customers, no matter how desperate he was for friendly conversation, but he felt a burning need for Namjoon to know he wasn’t just a whor*. “I work somewhere else, too, I’m not—this isn’t—everything. I do laundry.”

Namjoon nodded like the admittance wasn’t as flustered as it was. “You must be tired, working so much.”

Hoseok shrugged and fiddled with his sleeves. “I guess. I’m, uh, I’m looking for something else.” He could have kicked himself for that, honestly. No matter how nice they were, johns never wanted to hear that this wasn’t his dream job. They wanted to think they were doing whor*s a favor, giving them a rough f*ck for a couple won, taking care of poor, desperate omegas in need of a strong alpha for an hour. They didn’t want to hear that they wanted away from the life. There were some people who did love the work, but Hoseok wasn’t one of them.

Namjoon didn’t seem to mind, because of course he didn’t. He was different. That’s what they all thought, Hoseok reminded himself. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Hoseok nodded. “Uh. Factory work again. I—I got let go. So I work afternoons now. And nights.”

Namjoon gave him a look he couldn’t read and leaned back when the waiter returned with their food. “Is factory work all you’re considering?”

Hoseok shrugged, putting a few slices of meat on the grill. “It’s all I can do, really. I applied to a few shops, too, but, uh. I don’t have experience with much else.”

Namjoon’s assessing gaze made Hoseok squirm a little, so he looked away and focused on the task at hand. “I know a few places hiring. Entry level jobs. Not very high pay but no experience required.”

With a glance, Hoseok felt a spark of hope mixed with the sting of pity he felt directed at him.

“You should look into Kim-Min Group.”

“The—entertainment company?” Hoseok laughed a little. “They must get a ton of interest. I’m not a competitive applicant.”

Namjoon shrugged. “It’s worth a shot, don’t you think?”

Hoseok didn’t answer, just nudged a finished cut Namjoon’s way, taking his own and quickly filling his mouth, giving himself an excuse to not talk. Namjoon didn’t bring it up again as they ate. He told a few stories about his pack (and Hoseok tried to not think about how nice it all sounded, Namjoon and his mate and his pack). He had to bail out their younger alpha and omega after they were caught spray painting a bridge a few weeks ago, apparently. He told a few horrible pun-filled jokes that his mate had told him recently, making Hoseok choke with laughter as he took a drink. Namjoon said to not let his mate hear him laugh because it would only encourage him. Not to let Jin hear. His mate’s name was Jin, and he was nice.

He didn’t have to go back to work as soon as the last time, it turned out, and they took their time eating lunch and chatting. Namjoon did have to go eventually, and he dropped him back off on his corner as he had last time, giving his knee another squeeze that Hoseok felt in his heart.

He handed Hoseok a few bills before he got out, and Hoseok sighed when he saw the hundred thousand on top of several others again. “Namjoon—”

Namjoon shook his head and grinned. “Hush. I’ll see you later, Hoseok.”

Hoseok studied his face for a moment before sighing again, giving him a nod. “Okay. Yeah. Thanks, Namjoon.” He added quietly, “Really.”

“Try Kim-Min,” Namjoon said as he got out. “It’s worth a shot.”

Hoseok waved him off with the hand not holding the seven—seven—hundred thousand won. He thought for a moment that he wouldn’t, that it was useless, that it wasn’t worth a shot, no matter what Namjoon said. But the next day, he found himself paying for a subway ticket farther downtown, standing in front of the fancy Kim-Min Group building in his nicest clothes, trying to hold himself with fake-it-til-you-make-it confidence and the most professional face he could manage.

“Hello,” he smiled, greeting the beta woman at the front desk. “I was wondering if I could submit an application. For—for something entry level. Please.”

She smiled and gave him a generic application, already so much more receptive than any factory job he had tried for lately. He sat off to the side and filled it out, leaving an embarrassing number of fields blank, pausing when there was a question about referrals. It was already a long shot, he figured. Astronomically so. Perhaps it was made longer by him just writing ‘Namjoon,’ no surname, no contact information, but he did so anyway.

The secretary gave him another smile when he handed it in, bidding him a nice day, assuring him he would hear back soon. He doubted it, but he appreciated the gesture. With the extra won Namjoon had given him hidden safely away, he decided to stay away from his spot for the afternoon, instead choosing to wander around the expensive business district, splurging on a much-too-expensive coffee and spending a peaceful couple of hours in a fancy park, watching ducklings swim around a little pond.

After a few hours of indulgence, he sighed and made his way back to the sketchy outskirts he was used to, walking a few city blocks to a further stop to make the subway ticket less expensive. He had just leaned under the awning and greeted the others already working when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

“Hello?”

“Jung Hoseok-ssi, this is Kim-Min Group—” he braced himself and closed his eyes, willing himself to not cry over the rejection he fully expected. “We’d like to offer you a position.”

Hoseok’s mind shorted out for a split second before he quickly reeled himself back in—entry-level, fifteen thousand an hour, nine to five, starting Monday—he felt like fainting. “Thank you. Thank you, yes, I accept. Uh, I can sign the contract whenever, yes—thank you. Yes. Thank you.”

He was being side-eyed by all three of the omega women beside him throughout the call, and his favorite immediately gathered him into a congratulatory hug, placing a lipsticked kiss on his cheek. “Good, Hobi,” she said fondly, and Hoseok did tear up at the kind touch and the nickname. “I’m happy for you.”

He swallowed and nodded, quickly wiping his tears away. “Thanks. I—f*ck.”

She laughed and patted his arm in understanding. “You’d better come treat us when you’re rich and famous.”

“I’m pretty sure I’ll be running errands and, like, putting ink in printers. Probably can’t get famous from that. Definitely can’t get rich.”

“You’ll do good, Hoseok,” another added, her voice scratchy with sickness but unable to take time off. She had seen him with too many bruises and gave him a knowing look. “You’ll do good and you’ll get out of here. Okay?”

Hoseok nodded and gave her a weak smile. “Yes, noona.”

They broke off when a car pulled up, a wolf-whistle and a request for the “skinny pale ones" to get in. Hoseok watched them go and gave them a supportive smile and wave, and was picked up himself not ten minutes later.

This might be the last time, he thought, as the alpha rammed into him mercilessly, Hoseok dutifully moaning as he ignored the pain and felt no pleasure. Thank Christ.

He couldn’t ignore the pain of his father’s fist hitting his stomach later that night after he handed him his usual earnings, which were apparently less than his father wanted. Maybe a bill was due, or maybe he was running low on alcohol, or maybe it was just because—but Hoseok knew it wouldn’t be the last time he felt pain inflicted by the alpha who owned him, who kept him broken and humble, who he could never escape. He knew he would feel the new bruise on his jaw and the horrible tenderness of his stomach throughout the week. He just hoped he could conceal the visible signs enough to avoid notice.

He went to bed hungry and aching, but the thought of maybe, maybe, earning a new start with Kim-Min was enough to lull him to sleep.

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

Hoseok was eager for Monday throughout the weekend, even though his stomach turned unpleasantly when he had to buy a few new items of clothing to look at least a little professional. They were second-hand and on sale, but the insecurity of spending was hard to handle. But he couldn’t regret it, knowing if he showed up in his usual ratty attire, he would set himself apart as new and unworthy. At least he could squash the unworthy part for the time being.

No matter how eager he had been before, Monday rolled around and he felt nervous energy buzz through his entire body as he rode the rush-hour-packed train. He arrived with sweaty palms and a racing heart almost thirty minutes early, having taken off his shift at the hotel to make sure he was on time. He was led to his new office by a new coworker, introduced to his new supervisor and told about his new job, and all of the newness made him dizzy but he was so overwhelmingly grateful that he could look past it.

His supervisor, he noted with what he hoped was a subtle surprise, was an omega. He had never in his life had an omega boss. He had barely had omega coworkers other than on the street. She was kind and smiled at him and told him she had high expectations she had no doubt he would meet and there was nothing in the world he wanted to do more than that.

“We’re starting you on data entry. If that doesn’t suit you, we’ll find something else,” she assured him, bizarrely. “It’s boring work, I’m afraid, but it’s necessary.”

“I don’t mind boring,” he told her with wide, honest eyes. “I’m fine with boring.”

She laughed and introduced him to a few people, getting him started on paperwork and training. He didn’t do much actual work that day, but it was exhausting in itself, the emotional high wearing him out. It was good, though. It was good—so good. So much better than anything he’d ever had. Thanks to Namjoon.

It was at that thought that he realized with a pang that he wouldn’t likely be able to see Namjoon again—he wouldn’t be on the street when Namjoon had stopped by before, and there was no way in hell any of the other omegas would tell a strange alpha where he had gone. It was thanks to him that this was happening, but he might never get to thank him. But what could he do, really? Skip work just to stand around and hope he came by? Maybe he would just know, intrinsically, that he did it, that Hoseok applied and was hired and was given a chance. Maybe.

His father was at work so Hoseok went home to change before going to his spot, not wanting to give his new-to-him clothes any more wear than he had to, hoping they would last longer. His fellows kindly asked how it went and cooed over him for being nervous, told him they were proud in a way that noonas were allowed to be. If he was careful, they said, maybe he’d get a raise and they wouldn’t see him so much. He loved them in a quiet, lonely way, but he hoped they were right.

He reduced his hours at the hotel so he only worked full shifts on weekends and call shifts throughout the week. It scared him to think about working less but he knew he couldn’t risk being late to his office job. It was too important to take a chance on, he didn’t want to lose the opportunity before he even got a paycheck.

His paycheck was another thing entirely.

“Abeoji,” he said quietly, keeping his eyes downcast.

The alpha grunted, not looking away from the television.

“I got a new job. It pays through deposit instead of cash.”

The alpha’s gaze snapped to Hoseok sharply and he flinched.

“I—it pays more, I promise, but I can’t—not—everyday. Two weeks.”

His father stood and grabbed his chin roughly, forcing him to meet his eyes. “You lying?”

“No!” Hoseok said quickly, desperately. “No. It’s in an office and it’s—good, and pays well, I just—”

“You aren’t giving me nothing, Hoseok,” he spat, tightening his grip.

“No, alpha, I swear. I’m—I’m working nights still, and weekends, and I get cash there, and I can withdraw as soon as I get paid—”

His father stared at him with angry, suspicious eyes before letting him go. Hoseok almost breathed a sigh of relief, but it caught in his throat as he was backhanded. “Should ask permission, omega. Lucky I don’t kill you for it.”

He was told that a lot. Lucky I don’t kill you. Lucky you’re not dead. Lucky you know your worth.

“Yes, sir, thank you, sir,” he said with a shaky voice, careful to not touch his cheek, knowing that acknowledging his punishments only made them worse. “Sorry, sir.”

His father just shook his head and shoved him aside, going back to the sofa. “Out of my sight.”

Hoseok bowed and obeyed, hurrying to his room. His cheek would bruise. Good thing he could afford another bottle of concealer.

He was still tired constantly, but for once in his life, going to work was a reprieve. He worked in a quiet office, was smiled at, had real conversations with coworkers and shared jokes about working hard and excitement about new songs released by musicians that were, insanely, managed by Kim-Min. He felt like a person for once in his life. It made him wish he could thank Namjoon all the more, but he hadn’t seen him all week. He wasn’t surprised, of course. He shivered on the street after dark, long after Namjoon had probably gone home to the mate he loved and the pack he adored and the house that was probably big and beautiful and warm.

He still worked all the time, but it was so much better. Everything was better except for being home. He felt like he was walking to his death every time he started back, though it felt less so once two weeks had passed and he was able to withdraw his paycheck. The wad of bills felt heavy in his hand, and the rock in his stomach felt heavier as his father counted them once, twice, then set them down and ignored Hoseok. With a wave of relief, he went to his room and fell into bed, feeling elated, almost light. Maybe he’d escape his father’s hand for the next few days. Probably not. But he could hope.

Three weeks passed quickly, especially after he used some of his hidden stash to buy a coat that was warmer than any he had ever owned. It was just in time for the February chill to strike Seoul, and it was just enough that he didn’t get sick standing outside all night. It even hid his frail body enough that he was pretty sure he was getting picked up more than usual, just a bit.

It was a rare clear, sunny day when he decided to sit outside for lunch, wrapped up in his coat but sitting under pleasant rays that warmed him up almost as much. It appeared that quite a few Kim-Min employees had the same idea, and the courtyard was relatively full, so he wasn’t surprised when someone sat at the same table. He glanced up and had to do a double take.

The beta was beautiful, breathtakingly-so. He had a perfect face, with a perfect nose and perfect eyes and more than perfect lips, with perfect hair and likely a perfect body to match. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Uh—” Hoseok blinked, clearing his throat. “No—I mean, yes, go ahead, please.”

The man smiled perfectly and sat, holding out his hand. “Kim Seokjin.”

Hoseok felt unworthy as he shook. “Jung Hoseok.”

Seokjin frowned for a moment, not letting go of his hand. His eyes suddenly went wide with confusing recognition and he beamed, squeezing his hand lightly. “Hoseok-ssi. You know my husband!”

That was one of the most terrifying sentences Hoseok had ever heard in his life. “I—I don’t know, sir, I’m sorry, I don’t—”

“Kim Namjoon? He’s mentioned you.” Seokjin was still beaming, still holding Hoseok’s hand, still acting as if he didn’t know what Hoseok was. He felt sick.

“f*ck—I mean, sorry, I—It’s not like that, I swear, sir, he’s a good husband, a good mate—” Hoseok wasn’t sure he wouldn’t throw up, but he thought it would only make it worse if he threw up on the mate of someone who picked up a whor*. Twice.

“Aish, don’t look like that, Hoseok-ssi,” Seokjin said, waving his hand. “I know he is. I’m glad to see you here. He will be, too.”

“He—he will—I—?”

Seokjin laughed pleasantly, like Hoseok’s entire body wasn’t being thrown into a horrible whirlpool of nausea. “Mm, sure. He’s supposed to meet me for lunch, but the bastard isn’t answering his phone. If he and Yoongi forgot again, I swear—”

“Seokjin-ssi,” Hoseok interrupted urgently. “Please, I’m sorry, I’ll leave, I don’t mean any harm, I swear, we didn’t do anything, I swear—”

Seokjin blinked. “I know, sweetheart.” Hoseok felt even more dizzy at that. “And call me hyung.”

“Hyung,” Hoseok said numbly.

Seokjin smiled, pleased.

With a deep, silent breath, Hoseok rubbed his eyes, trying to figure out what the f*ck, and when he stopped and chanced a glance at Seokjin, he paused. His charming smile was gone, his eyebrows furrowed. He reached across the table to touch Hoseok’s cheek and Hoseok flinched, nearly falling off the bench.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Hoseok-ah. You have—something under your eye.”

There was something about the tender tone in his voice that filled Hoseok with a knowing dread. He had wiped off some of the concealer that hid the green and purple bruise on his cheekbone, and Seokjin knew what it was. “It’s nothing. Sorry.”

“You apologize too much,” Seokjin chided. He frowned again as his phone beeped. “Ah, there’s my horrible man.” He went to stand but fixed Hoseok with a serious look before fishing through his bag and pulling out a crumpled receipt, quickly scribbling his number on the back. “Call me if you need anything, Hoseok-ah,” he said, and Hoseok could do nothing but take the offered slip, staring at him. Seokjin gave him a smile before heading inside.

He had been gone for ten minutes before Hoseok felt able to move, burying his face in his hands after stuffing the receipt in his pocket. “What the f*ck.”

The rest of the day passed in an odd, anxious blur. He input data (correctly, he made sure his anxiety didn’t mess up his work), smiled appropriately at his coworker’s jokes and made simple conversation with his supervisor by the water cooler. He stayed later than usual, by just ten minutes or so, just until most of the people around him had cleared out to grab a drink or to head home. He opened Naver and searched with fingers, like it was a spell that would summon him if he wasn’t careful.

Kim Namjoon (born September 12, 1994) is the co-founder and co-chief executive officer of Kim-Min Group, an entertainment conglomerate based in Seoul, South Korea. He is a lyricist, composer, producer, and record executive, known under the moniker RM. He is internationally renowned for…

There was no mistaking the photograph beside his description. Kim Namjoon. Kim Namjoon.

“What the f*ck.”

Though he felt it was self-aggrandizing, Hoseok stayed away from the courtyard after his discovery, even on tempting warm, sunny days. He hid himself away to eat, even to the extent of avoiding staff rooms, choosing to duck into a stairwell or sit outside the building. He didn’t want to risk running into Seokjin again, or, God forbid, Namjoon himself.

His ancient phone didn’t have internet capabilities in the slightest, and he didn’t have wifi at home anyways, so he snuck away to the library before work one morning to frantically read everything he could about Namjoon, unable to keep his curiosity at bay. He was the Kim of Kim-Min, and one of his packmates was the Min, an alpha named Min Yoongi, whose photograph was too unbearably attractive for Hoseok to look at for more than a second. Namjoon, Kim Namjoon, of Kim-Min, had picked him up, a whor*, had taken him to fancy lunch, had given him hundreds of thousands of won for nothing, had told him to apply, had, without a doubt in the world, told someone to hire him regardless of his lack of experience. Shame was overwhelmed by gratitude, though, even as an embarrassed blush pricked at his cheeks.

He would have been late to work if he hadn’t set a timer on his phone, as absorbed as he was reading about his boss, his boss’s boss, probably his boss’s boss’s boss. He silenced it quickly and bowed an apology to the nearby library patrons before hurrying off, mind racing. His phone vibrated with a text when he was on the subway, halfway to the office.

Unknown number: helloooo hoseok-ah this is jin hyung, i brought lunch for you, please meet me at noon or i will track you down~

Unknown number: i stole your number from your files hehe definitely illegal please dont tell

Hoseok blanched. Perhaps his fear wasn’t as self-aggrandized as he thought.

He intentionally absorbed himself in his work that morning, more focused on numbers than he had ever been in his life, but noon rolled around quickly and he couldn’t ignore it. He read the texts again and again before resigning to his fate and walking out to the courtyard, bundled up in his coat and hoping that maybe Seokjin would have forgotten, didn’t want to meet him at all, that he had stolen the wrong phone number and mistyped someone else’s name as ‘Hoseok-ah.’

But Seokjin was already at the same table they had been at before, waving at him with a bright smile. “Hoseok! Hello!”

Hoseok blushed pink but went over, giving him a low bow. “Seokjin-ssi.”

He laughed and clicked his tongue. “Oh, stop, you’re making me blush. And it’s Jin-hyung.”

Seokjin wasn’t alone. It wasn’t Namjoon, thankfully, but a smaller man, a pretty, pink-haired beta that put most betas Hoseok had ever met to shame, with the exception of Seokjin himself. “Hoseok-ssi, hello. I’m Park Jimin.”

Hoseok turned to him and gave another low bow. “Jimin-ssi, it’s good to meet you.”

“Aya!” he said with a laugh. “You’re my hyung, no. Sit, please.”

Hoseok sat, keeping his head lowered in deference. Seokjin placed a container of buckwheat naengmyeon in front of him and Hoseok’s mouth watered. “Thank you, Seokjin-s—hyung. You’re very kind.”

“He’s annoying is what he is,” Jimin corrected. “I came to make him apologize for breaking into your file—”

“I refuse,” Seokjin said with a frown, handing Hoseok a pair of disposable chopsticks. “Hoseok-ah deserves to taste my cooking. Joonie told me he had you cook the gogi the last time he saw you, which was incredibly impolite. I have to make up for my mate’s lack of skill.”

“Still, hyung, it’s an invasion of privacy—”

“It’s okay,” Hoseok interrupted, blushing a little. “Namjoon-ssi was very kind, as well. I—I won’t tell about the, uh, the file thing.”

“See?” Seokjin said, beaming at Jimin and gesturing at Hoseok. “It’s okay! Now eat, you’re too skinny.”

“You and Namjoon both,” Jimin said, aghast. “So rude.”

Hoseok laughed a little, self-conscious but self-aware. “I know I am, don’t worry.”

“I am worried, that’s why I want you to eat up.” Seokjin pointed at him firmly.

Hoseok gave him a shy smile before taking a bite, looking up at him with wide eyes, covering his mouth politely.

“Yum?” Seokjin asked with a knowing grin.

He nodded quickly before taking another bite. Even though he had been eating slightly more recently, cushioned by significantly higher pay than he was used to, his father expected more and there was still not much he was able to hide away. He usually managed lunch and a small dinner, which should have been enough, but just a few bites of a home cooked meal was proving that was not the case.

“Good. Joonie asked after you,” Seokjin said casually, and Hoseok had to keep himself from choking. “I told him we ran into each other, he’s hoping you’re well.”

“I—I am,” Hoseok stuttered, feeling off-kilter. “I am. Uh. This job is—a blessing, seriously, it’s—yes. Thank you. Thank him, I mean—”

“You can thank him yourself if you want, Hoseok-hyung,” Jimin said, giving him a soft smile and eating his own noodles.

Hoseok glanced at him and hid his frown. “I—I didn’t know who he was. I just thought he was—nice. Or maybe knew someone here. I didn’t know until I met you. Seokjin-ssi—hyung.”

Seokjin grinned. “I figured. What does it matter?”

“I’m—” he went red and swallowed, ashamed, looking away. “He’s—you are—way too important to be around me. You—know what I am, sir.”

“As do I,” Jimin said, reaching over to touch his hand briefly. “We’re all from humble beginnings.”

“I should have been born a prince, really,” Seokjin sighed.

“Mm, I know, hyung. Namjoonie-hyung doesn’t make a habit of it or anything like that.”

“He just felt sorry for me,” Hoseok said blandly.

Jimin shrugged. “Yeah, he did. Listen, hyung, if you were him, if he was you—”

“Yeah.” Hoseok sighed. “Still, it’s—awkward. There are a billion people who deserve more kindness than me, it’s uncomfortable taking advantage of it.”

“You can’t give a billion people kindness, Hoseok-hyung. There’s no shame in being in the right place at the right time.” Seokjin’s smile was beautiful and kind.

Hoseok frowned and took another bite to give himself more time to think. “Can you thank him for me?”

“Sure,” Jimin said. “Could we trade numbers, Hoseok-hyung? I’m not a thief.”

“Ha. Uh. Sure. We can do that.” Hoseok took his phone carefully, putting in a new contact and adding Jimin to his own when the beta sent him a text. He didn’t know why he would want it, but—it felt nice to have more than three contacts in his phone, all of which were work-related, and now he had Seokjin and Jimin. It was an odd feeling.

“I have to go record but I’ll see you later, okay, hyung?” he shot Hoseok a stern look. “That’s a promise.”

Hoseok nodded, unable to refuse that face. “Yes, Jimin-ssi. Thank you.” Jimin gave him a friendly pat on his shoulder that sent a warm shock through his body as he left. It wasn’t until he was gone that Hoseok realized with a wide-eyed gasp, looking at Seokjin. “Record—that’s Jimin?”

Seokjin laughed. “You just realized?”

“Yes! I didn’t expect—oh my God. I listened to him on the way here, what is wrong with me—”

Seokjin laughed again, slapping the table. “Ah, tell him that, really, he’ll be delighted.”

Hoseok shook his head, still edging on embarrassed. “That’s got to be the hundredth time I’ve made a fool of myself in front of you, hyung.”

“It wasn’t even the first,” Seokjin dismissed, giving him a friendly grin. “I have to go, too, I’m afraid. But—” he pulled out another container of naengmyeon and shot him a wink.

“Hyung—”

“Ah-ah,” Seokjin interrupted, holding up a finger. “I’m a Sagittarius.”

Hoseok couldn’t help but laugh and accept it. “Thank you, hyung.”

“Of course.” Seokjin smiled, taking the empty one back and storing it in his bag before shooting him another wink. “You’ll just have to give that back to me next time.”

Hoseok blinked as he watched him go before shaking his head and muttering to himself. “Next time.”

Chapter 3

Chapter Text

Park Jimin-ssi: Hi Hoseok-hyung! Are you working this weekend? :)

Park Jimin-ssi: One of my mates and I are going out and we’d love your company :)

Hoseok read and re-read the message a few times, trying to figure out what his answer should be. He had only met Jimin once the week prior and was still moderately shaken that he was Jimin, as in Jimin the idol, Jimin the musician, Jimin who was one of Hoseok’s favorite artists of all time. Which meant that his mate was either Jeon Jungkook, another one of Hoseok’s favorite artists of all time, or someone he didn’t know who was undoubtedly as impressive. Not only that, but he was part of Namjoon’s pack, which meant his mates were part of Namjoon’s pack, which meant that Hoseok would be ‘going out’ with some of Namjoon’s pack, at least one of which was one of his favorite artists—he didn’t know how to handle it.

He contemplated his answer for an embarrassingly long time, only responding when Jimin texted again.

Park Jimin-ssi: No worries if not. And nothing weird :)

Jung Hoseok: i work until three. i can be free after.

He did work at the hotel until three, and he could be free after. As long as he made up his losses (or gave his father one of the bills hidden under his mattress), he should be fine.

Park Jimin-ssi: :)!!!

Park Jimin-ssi: Saturday at 7 work for you? We were thinking Babylon. :)

Jung Hoseok: sure. i haven’t been there before

Park Jimin-ssi: I’ll ping you the address later. My and Jungkook’s treat for our new hyung! :)

So it was Jeon Jungkook. Hoseok wasn’t sure if the confirmation made him more or less nervous, but either way, anxiety settled in his stomach.

Jung Hoseok: thanks jimin-ssi

Park Jimin-ssi: >:(

Jung Hoseok: thanks jimin-ah

Park Jimin-ah: >:)

He had no idea what he had gotten himself into, but he had gotten himself into it. With a groan, he hid his face in the sleeves of his hoodie, peeking out at his favorite noona when she poked his arm inquisitively. “I’m making friends. I don’t know how.”

“Mm, you’re cute,” she said, pinching his cheek lightly, making sure to not aggravate the obvious bruise on the other side. “You don’t need to know how when you’re so charming.”

“I’m not charming,” he argued, wrinkling his nose. “If I was charming, maybe I would have had friends before now. Friends I don’t work with,” he quickly added, sensing the snarky comments that would come from claiming that the other omegas weren’t friends.

She patted his arm with a grin. “Good save, Hobi.”

Hoseok recognized the car that pulled up with a sinking sigh. One of his frequent customers. Unpleasant and demanding, very ultra-alpha, beg-for-my-knot, but sometimes he tipped. Even if Jimin claimed their outing would be his treat, Hoseok wanted to be prepared with a little extra cash just in case. He made a subtle face at the other omegas who laughed in response before jogging off to do his job.

He did tip in the end. If Hoseok was truly honest with himself, he deserved way more than what he got. He used to be grateful for those meager extras, but it looked like he had been spoiled by his friendly ‘just company’ customer. But he did end up with enough for a couple drinks, and that was fine with him; he didn’t like drinking much anyway.

But he did like dancing.

No matter how nervous he was, there was still an undercurrent of excitement running through him as he got ready, trying to tuck his shirt in just right to emphasize the dip of his waist, wearing his only pair of too-loose black jeans that still hugged his ass if he belted them enough. He didn’t risk putting on makeup other than his usual concealer, covering up the current bruises and the ever-present bags under his eyes; with his luck, he’d run into his father before he made it out the door, and that would not end well, even if he made the excuse of going to work the street. Makeup was decidedly omega, and his father hated the reminder of what he had produced.

He managed to duck out the door just before his father got home, however, and Hoseok allowed himself to relax as soon as the apartment building was out of sight. Jimin had confirmed he was still coming and sent him the club address a few hours before—it was a bit of a journey, closer to the heart of Seoul than he was used to. It was nearing seven by the time he got to Babylon, and he was relieved to see Jimin and Jungkook—Jeon Jungkook—turn the corner only a moment later.

Jimin waved to him in excitement, grabbing the alpha’s arm and hurrying to meet him. “Hyung!”

“Jimin-ah,” Hoseok smiled and bowed politely, ignoring Jimin’s scoff.

“This is Jungkook, one of my mates,” Jimin said, holding onto Jungkook’s arm like he was a golden prize, as if there was anyone in the world who didn’t know who Jeon Jungkook was. Hoseok supposed there were few people who didn’t know who Park Jimin was, either, but he had already messed that up so he was glad for the proper introduction.

Hoseok turned his bow to him, dipping slightly lower. “It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook-ssi.”

Jungkook—Jeon Jungkook—grabbed his arm gently, urging him back up. “Oh, please don’t, I’m even younger than Jimin. There’s no need to be formal with me."

Hoseok laughed a little but straightened. “Forgive me."

“Let’s go in while the rest of the world is pregaming,” Jimin said, waving his hand.

“Pregaming what?” Jungkook asked, though he allowed himself to be dragged in with Hoseok following behind.

“Life, Jungkookie,” Jimin sighed dramatically. He didn’t even pause for the bouncer and was let through as a familiar, famous face; Hoseok quickly bowed his head in thanks as he passed.

Jungkook shared a smile with Hoseok, indicating that yes, this is how Jimin always was, and yes, he loved it. “Thanks for coming out with us, Hoseok-hyung. Jiminie gets philosophical when he drinks if he’s not distracted.”

Jimin smacked his chest with a pout. “I’m your hyung, too, brat! Show some respect.”

“Yeah, but you’re my mate,” Jungkook grinned, wrapping his arms around his waist. “And you’re not denying it.”

“There’s nothing to deny. I’m smarter after a shot, unlike you—”

Hoseok laughed as he listened to their bickering, ordering the same too-sweet co*cktail as they did. They were both easy to talk to, especially after he allowed himself to relax just a little. His smiles came easily and his laughter came even easier; he was unused to the feeling, but the ache in his cheeks was pleasant. He allowed himself to be led onto the dance floor, both of them taking a hand; it made him feel tingly all the way up his arms, still unused to their touch.

Hoseok thought he remembered how much he loved to dance, but as soon as he really got started, it came back to him in an overwhelming rush. He loved it— beyond loved it, the fluidity and control and freedom from thought, focusing on the movement and the feeling of welcomed bodies around him. Jimin and Jungkook’s laughter was almost as musical as the music itself.

“You know,” Hoseok said, leaning close and speaking loudly so they could hear him, Jungkook’s voice playing over the speakers. “This is one of my favorite songs.”

Jungkook gave him the brightest, bunny-toothed grin and laughed, putting an arm around his shoulders as the three of them moved together.

It was the best night Hoseok could remember. He kept himself on the brink of tipsy, not wanting to go over; neither of them pressed him to do more, even as Jimin started in on heavier drinks. Jungkook stuck to water after the first few, watching after Jimin with love clear in his eyes. Jimin’s love for him was much louder, with many more touches and vocal declarations, and it warmed Hoseok’s heart to watch them. There was jealousy beside it, but he was used to that; seeing love like that was hard, even if he didn’t know what it felt like. He knew it had to be nice.

They danced until their legs were too sore to take another song and sank into an empty booth.

“You’re a very good dancer, Hoseok-ssi,” Jimin said breathlessly, putting his legs over Jungkook’s lap.

“I thought none of us deserved formalities?” he grinned, running a hand through his hair to get it off his sweaty forehead.

“You’re a good enough dancer to be respected, Hoseok-ssi.” Jimin giggled, giving him a crinkly-eyed smile. “Thanks for coming out, really.”

“Thanks for inviting me.” Hoseok licked his lips. “I don’t know why you did, though.”

Jimin shrugged. “I like you, Namjoon likes you, Seokjin likes you, I thought Jungkook would like you—how do you figure out if you’re meant to be friends if you don’t go clubbing?”

“And I do like you, he was right,” Jungkook added earnestly.

Hoseok laughed. “I, uh. I like you both, too,” he watched them for another moment before deciding to clarify. “Nothing weird?”

Jimin laughed loudly and reached across the table to lace their fingers together and the happy familiarity almost made Hoseok dizzy. “Nothing weird, I promise!”

Hoseok nodded, relieved. “This is—I mean, this is weird for me, even if it’s not that kind of weird.”

“What for?” Jungkook asked, leaning his cheek on Jimin’s pink hair.

“I wasn’t kidding when I said My Time is one of my favorite songs.” He rubbed his blushing cheek and glanced between them. “Like, uh, my second favorite song. Right after Filter.”

Jimin’s head knocked against Jungkook’s jaw as he straightened up. “Shut up, are you kidding?”

“No. I didn’t realize at first, but—”

“Fated. We’re fated, the three of us, fated to be friends.”

Jungkook grinned at Jimin’s dramatics but still nodded in agreement, wrapping an arm around his mate’s shoulders. “Fated.”

“Sure,” Hoseok said, though he wasn’t sure what he thought about that. He was sure that he felt great. He felt like he had friends, felt safe, felt like they were telling the truth and really did have fun with him, and he had fun with them too. It was more than he ever expected to have. Even Jungkook, an alpha, part of a group that Hoseok had plenty of horrible experiences with, didn’t put him on edge; his wide smiles only served to make him feel even warmer. It was an odd, unexpected. But he and Jimin were both odd and unexpected. The entire situation—Kim-Min Group, Namjoon and Jin, Jimin and Jungkook—was odd and unexpected, but, as nervous as he was about everything, it was all very welcome.

“Fantastic,” Jimin said, leaning on Jungkook again with a suddenly tired sigh. “Do you want to go home with us? Nothing weird, it’s just late.”

To his surprise, Hoseok wanted to say yes. But his father would be angry if he realized. Too angry. “I have to go home, I'm sorry.”

Jungkook waved his hand. “We’ll drive you. I mean—” he corrected at Hoseok’s look, wary of their drunken states, “we’ll have you driven when we’re also driven.”

Jimin rolled his eyes. “He means we’ll call a car.”

Remembering that they were in the co-CEOs of Kim-Min’s pack, Hoseok very carefully did not think about how call a car might mean call a car that is specifically ours to call, the wealth disparity a little too uncomfortable to think about. “I live too far away for that, don’t worry about me.”

“That’s more reason to worry, hyung,” Jungkook frowned. “We’ll take care of you.”

Hoseok stared at him for an inadvertently long moment. That was a distinctly alpha statement, but like everything about him, and about Namjoon, for that matter, it didn’t inspire panic he expected it to. “Oh—” he swallowed, catching himself before he let the silence drag into awkwardness. “Thank you. Jungkook-ah. I appreciate it.”

Jungkook smiled softly and prodded Jimin before he had the chance to fully fall asleep. “Ready to go?”

Jimin threw back the rest of his watered-down drink with a grimace before getting up, making grabby hands at Jungkook until he was wrapped up in his arms again. Jimin took hold of Hoseok’s hand as they walked out, getting into the waiting car. The driver greeted Jimin and Jungkook by name, confirming that it was specifically at their call. Hoseok gave him his address and leaned back, and was met with Jimin plastering himself to his side.

“He gets—cuddly when he drinks,” Jungkook explained with a grin. “But suggestible, too, so push him my way if you want him off.”

Hoseok thought about it for a moment, taking in Jimin’s warmth and jasmine-and-lemongrass scent, before shaking his head. “I don’t mind.”

Jimin hummed happily, rubbing his cheek on Hoseok’s shoulder. “Have to come with us again, hyung. Promise?”

Hoseok laughed a little and ducked his head, pleased and flustered. “Yeah, Jimin-ah. I promise.”

They dropped him off and were kind enough to not comment on how different their lives must be. Hoseok’s neighborhood was on the opposite end of the spectrum from upscale, and he knew it must have inspired even more pity for him. But getting home safe without spending an hour and a half on the dark, late-night subway was worth it. It was fine, all fine, until he met his father at the door.

He smelled like alpha, apparently.

Hoseok didn’t know what was different. He had to smell like alphas every night, and they pressed against him much more thoroughly Jungkook had. It didn’t matter what was different, though; all that mattered was his father didn’t approve, even after Hoseok gave him the cash he had kept in his pocket all night, claiming it as his night’s wages.

He would have called out of work the next morning if it wasn’t his father’s day off. Instead, he dressed, carefully applied concealing makeup with a practiced hand, and kept his head down. Jimin texted him midway through the day—a picture of the three of them from the night before, crowded together and grinning at the camera. He barely recognized himself as he squinted at his tiny screen, and it wasn’t the screen size or the still-slightly-swollen eye that made it difficult. It was his smile.

The realization stung.

What stung much, much more was glancing up and seeing Namjoon right there, barely halfway across the office, talking to one of the higher-up supervisors with a smile on his face. Hoseok had just started to think about how glad he was Namjoon hadn’t spotted him when their eyes met across the room, both of them freezing for a split second before Hoseok caught himself, quickly going back to work, determinedly not looking up from his monitor as he sensed him move, saw him walk past out of the corner of his eye, heard his smooth voice—

“Hoseok-ah,” Namjoon said from beside him with a warm smile. “It’s good to see you.”

Hoseok stared at him. “I—uh. You too, Namjoon-ssi, sir.”

“Aya, we’ve been over this,” Namjoon laughed.

Hoseok could practically feel curiosity radiating from his nearby coworkers. He bowed his head apologetically. “Namjoon-ah, sorry.”

“I was about to go have lunch with my mate, are you interested in joining us?”

“Uh—” Hoseok glanced at between his screen, his supervisor’s office, and Namjoon.

Namjoon winked. “I think I can steal you away if you’ll allow it.”

Hoseok swallowed and nodded, saving his spreadsheet before grabbing his coat and walking behind Namjoon until the alpha paused, waiting for him to join him side by side. “I—thank you—Namjoon-ah, really, I can’t thank you enough—”

“You’re welcome, now stop thanking me.” Namjoon’s smile was gentle, as was the squeeze he gave Hoseok’s arm. “How are you?”

“I—” Hoseok swallowed, forcing additional thanks back down. “Well, thank you. How are you?”

“Ah, just fine. I’m better for your company, though,” he laughed. “If Jin-hyung knew I saw you and didn’t manage to kidnap you, I think I’d lose a limb.”

“He's very kind,” Hoseok smiled a little. “We’ve—met a couple times.”

“He is.” The fondness in Namjoon’s voice was unmistakable, and Hoseok guiltily felt a familiar pang of envy. “He also has a craving for something greasy, apparently, so I hope you’re okay with burgers.”

“I’m okay with anything, Namjoon-ah.” Hoseok smiled a little and nudged him with his elbow. He wasn’t sure if he should cringe at his own familiarity or not, hoping he didn’t overstep and presume more familiarity than he was comfortable with. “You should know that by now.”

Namjoon laughed. “The one time I don’t ask we’ll end up going to your least favorite place in the world. Allow me the safety.”

Seokjin was waiting in the lobby and there was no mistaking the way his face lit up when he saw Namjoon. There was also no mistaking the brief shock followed by the immediate beaming smile when he saw Hoseok by his side, either. “Hoseok! Look at this, what a beautiful surprise—”

“Hyung,” Hoseok smiled, giving him a slight bow. “It’s good to see you.”

Seokjin clicked his tongue and didn’t hesitate to pull him into a hug. Hoseok froze in his arms, eyes going wide as he tried to break through his shock. Seokjin must have felt him go still, but he didn’t let go, instead rubbing his back a few times before pulling away to look at his face. Hoseok could see him spot his swollen eye and his sympathetic wince. “Oh, sweet boy—”

“Namjoon-ah said you wanted to get lunch?” Hoseok interrupted with a forced bright smile.

Seokjin gracefully took the bait and patted his arm. “Yes, please, I’m starved. Thank God you’re coming with us, Hoseokie, you can help me convince Namjoon to keep his eyes off his phone.”

“I’m not that bad!” Namjoon objected.

“You are when there are comebacks coming up, alpha, darling,” Seokjin sing-songed, a serious tone to his teasing voice. Beta or not, that tone was not something he could imagine using on an alpha.

Namjoon rolled his eyes. “I’ll let you confiscate it, just to make a good impression.”

Seokjin nodded, satisfied, before leading them out.

Hoseok never imagined being in the same room as the mated couple, and he certainly never imagined it being as not awkward as it was. There was a natural flow to conversation as they drew Hoseok into it, talking about their days, Hoseok’s night out with Jimin and Jungkook, what their pack should watch for movie night—

“You should come,” Namjoon suggested, smiling at Hoseok before taking a bite.

“Oh, you should,” Seokjin gasped. “You haven’t met Yoongi and Tae yet, have you?”

“I don’t want to impose,” Hoseok started, but Namjoon shook his head.

“Not an imposition in the slightest, Hoseok-ah. Jimin and Jungkook would love to see you again, I’m sure.”

“I don’t—” Hoseok sighed and rubbed his cheek, wincing when he pressed against a forgotten bruise. “I can’t, I’m sorry. I have to work.”

Namjoon looked like he was going to argue the point, but it was clear the moment he realized which work Hoseok was talking about. “Hoseok-ah, I—I don’t mean to sound patronizing—”

Seokjin interrupted, putting a hand over Hoseok’s. “We’ll pay for your time, sweetheart, if that’s the worry.”

Hoseok felt a blush rise and he swallowed, looking away quickly. “Hyung, that—I can’t—”

“Or we could plan a night when you’re not working,” Namjoon said gently, giving him an out. “You don’t have to at all, of course, but—we really would love to have you."

“There isn’t—I, uh. I work every night. Sorry.”

Seokjin tutted and Hoseok pushed around the food on his plate, not willing to look up at him. “That’s not good for you. Neither is that.”

Hoseok didn’t need to look to know what he was talking about; he could feel the pointed stare aimed at the bruise. “It’s fine, hyung, don’t worry about me.”

“It’s a hyung’s job to worry,” Seokjin said. “It’s a beta’s job to worry, for that matter.” The way he said it made Hoseok feel for a moment like he really was his beta, like he was truly his hyung, that he was actually allowed to call him that. “As a hyung and a beta and a Sagittarius, I’m allowed to sound patronizing. Can we pay you to come to movie night?”

Hoseok stared at him silently, unsure how to respond. The moment dragged on just long enough for Namjoon to awkwardly clear his throat. “To be fair, I think our pack is annoying enough that you should earn a wage just to put up with us.”

That startled Hoseok out of his silence and he let out a laugh. “Uh—I really don’t want to ask you to do that, hyung, Namjoon-ah—”

“You’re not asking us to ask, Hoseokie,” Seokjin gave him a soft smile. “You can say yes or no and we’ll be happy either way.”

“We’d be happier one way,” Namjoon added, grinning when Seokjin elbowed his side with a scowl.

Hoseok looked between them for a moment. “When?”

“Tonight? If that doesn’t work we can—”

Hoseok gave them a hesitant smile and answered before he could convince himself to change his mind. "Tonight works."

Chapter 4

Chapter Text

Namjoon met him in the Kim-Min lobby at five, not giving Hoseok any time to panic and back out. Instead, he shoved his sweaty hands in his pockets and smiled at him, feeling like he should feel more awkward than he did.

“Isn’t this weird?” he asked as Namjoon drove.

“What?”

“Bringing a cheap whor* home to hang out with your pack.”

Namjoon let out a laugh. “Hoseok-ah—” he said, looking over at him with a fond look in his warm eyes. “I promise you could be a very high-end whor* if you wanted to be.”

It was Hoseok’s turn to splutter out a laugh, caught off guard. He couldn’t believe that a joke about something he couldn’t help but be ashamed about made him feel more at ease, but his shoulders relaxed a little more. “Thanks.”

“It might be weird,” Namjoon conceded, but he gave him a reassuring smile before looking back to the road. “But it feels right to me. I can’t explain it more than that. Do you know what I mean? It’s okay if you don’t,” he added quickly.

Hoseok looked out the window as they ventured further into Pyeongchang-dong, the district becoming more and more wealthy every other city block. He knew Namjoon's pack was rich, obviously—he had received over one million won from Namjoon, and Kim-Min was one of the most profitable entertainment groups in the business, if not the most, and both CEOs were in the pack. Even so, it made him squirm uncomfortably to see a physical manifestation of just how insane the gap between their lives were—the house Namjoon pulled up to was three stories, with wide windows and a large balcony and a lush garden behind the front wrought-iron gate. Hoseok had never been near a home as lovely as this one, and he was about to be paid to walk through the door.

He felt queasy and nervous all over again—but he glanced at Namjoon as the alpha unbuckled, and realized that despite all that, despite the huge difference between Hoseok and Them, he really did feel the same.

“I know what you mean,” he said quietly, knowing that the stretch of silence between the question and his answer was much too long to be normal.

Namjoon smiled at him and Hoseok’s heart jumped, and jumped more when he reached over and touched his shoulder. “Ready?”

Hoseok nodded and unbuckled, getting out and taking a quiet, deep breath, steeling himself as they walked up the short, pretty path and Namjoon unlocked the door.

Hoseok fully blamed his stupid omega heart when the first thing he thought when he stepped in was f*ck. It smells like home.

“Hyung!” Jungkook skirted around the corner, and, to Hoseok’s surprise, came up to him rather than Namjoon. “Jin-hyung said you were coming, I wasn’t sure if he was lying or not—”

“Aya!” Seokjin yelled from another room. “Why would I lie about that, brat?”

Jungkook ignored him in favor of wrapping Hoseok in a hug. The omega froze—it had been a long time, a very long time, maybe the first time an alpha had hugged him, and he didn’t know how to react. It wasn’t unpleasant by any means—Jungkook was warm and welcoming, wrapping Hoseok up in subtle notes of vanilla and sandalwood, projecting happiness that he was there, in their home.

“Ha, uh—” Hoseok swallowed and didn’t hug him back, unable to make his arms work, but Jungkook thankfully didn’t take it the wrong way and only let him go after he was satisfied. “Hi, Jungkook-ah. It’s nice to see you.”

Jungkook beamed. “Jin-hyung’s been cooking for you since he came home so, you know, be prepared for that.”

Hoseok flushed at the thought that he had been cooking for him; that Seokjin wasn’t kidding earlier and genuinely wanted to take care of him. It was the most confusing thing yet. They didn’t give him the same offputting pity that every faux-sympathetic person he’d come across had in the past, didn’t bring up the visible bruises that graced his face, didn’t try to coax him to talk about his sad life—they just welcomed him, fed him, touched him kindly, with no evident ulterior motive. It was confusing, but Hoseok couldn’t bring himself to shy away as much as he thought he should.

“Thanks,” Hoseok said, though he wasn’t sure if it was for the food or the warning or just everything.

Jungkook nudged him. “Listen, Jiminie and I are in the middle of a movie fight, will you please vote for something good, preferably with at least one fight scene and no love confessions by a lake?”

“I can’t watch The Notebook again,” Namjoon agreed, and Jungkook gave him a pointedly thankful look before turning back to Hoseok.

“Please don’t make me pick sides,” Hoseok had to ask. He wasn’t prepared to hurt any feelings, especially Jimin, who had been so nice and friendly both times he had been around him. Even if Jungkook had been the same, it was a risk Hoseok was not willing to take.

Jungkook sighed loudly but there was no negativity behind it. “Fine. Yoongi-hyung will probably vote for me, too, so it’ll still be three against two.”

“There’s a fifty percent chance Jimin will sway you just by pouting, you know that, right?”

“I’m a strong man,” Jungkook frowned, leveling Namjoon with a glare.

“Strong man, weak for your mates.” Namjoon ruffled Jungkook’s hair with a crinkle-eyed grin, clearly not trying to disparage his devotion. That was another odd thing about him—challenging an alpha, especially calling them weak, would normally be a fight-on-sight accusation. But Namjoon was different. Jungkook was different. They were all different and Hoseok had no idea how to handle it. “Be polite, show our guest around, don’t wrestle with Jimin.”

“I’d win,” Jungkook grumbled, but touched Hoseok’s elbow and led him around. “Office—” he pointed as they walked. “The patio and garden are out that door. Dining room, kitchen—”

Seokjin appeared in the doorway quickly enough for Hoseok to jump, startled.

“You’re horrible at tours,” he said, pointing at Jungkook with a frown before gathering Hoseok in another hug. Another hug. Three in one day, this one as comforting (if not even more) as the last. “Hoseokie, dear, it has been much too long.”

“Three hours?” he laughed, his hand nervously brushing against Seokjin’s back in an attempt to return the strange affection.

“Two and a half is the max I’ll allow,” he said sternly, pulling back to put his hands on Hoseok’s shoulder, giving him an assessing look. His eyes lingered on the concealed bruise under Hoseok’s eye but he graciously didn’t say anything about it. “Thank you for coming, really. We’re so glad to have you.”

Hoseok flushed, ducking his head. “Thank you, Seokjin-ssi.”

Seokjin tutted in disapproval but still touched his neck fondly, just barely grazing Hoseok’s scent gland. He looked at Seokjin, startled and stunned, but the beta paid no mind. “You’d be better off poking around on your own with the way Jungkook is dragging you around. Feel free to do so, either way, we have no skeletons in our closets,” he furrowed his brow in thought, “just shamefully old towels.”

Hoseok laughed a little. “That’s not necessary, hyung. Jungkook-ah is fine.”

“Jungkook-ah wants to show him the den,” Jungkook said impatiently.

“Don’t get in a fight with Jimin,” Seokjin told Jungkook sternly, giving Hoseok’s shoulders a final squeeze before letting go. “And dinner should be ready in a half-hour or so. And yes, Jungkook, you can eat again later, too.”

Namjoon ducked around them to kiss Seokjin chastely in greeting. “I have a few emails to send off, so—”

Jungkook led him away as Seokjin scowled. “I swear to God, Joonie, if you don’t come when I call—”

“I will, I will—”

Namjoon’s voice faded in comparison to Jimin’s yell as they entered the den. “Hoseokie-hyung, you came!”

The den was—a nest. There was no other word for it. The couch was huge and plush, cushiony rugs were spread around the floor, blankets and pillows were placed around the room for easy access and thorough bundling. Nests were the epicenter of pack life, where omegas and betas and alphas alike went for comfort, incredibly intimate and something Hoseok had never, ever experienced, and never, ever expected to. An invitation into their nest was one of the most intimidating things he had ever encountered, and he had encountered plenty of intimidating things. His drunk father, dark alleys, and cruel patrons were no match for the anxious wave that stirred in his stomach.

Jimin sat in front of the huge television with a console controller, scrolling through movie options determinedly. Hoseok could sense what question was about to come out of his mouth, but Jungkook interrupted as soon as he opened it. “We can’t make him pick sides. And we can’t wrestle, Namjoon-hyung said so.”

Jimin groaned and pouted. “But—”

“Yup,” Jungkook grinned. “Me, Joon and Yoongi hyungs against you and Jin-hyung. Easy.” He collapsed against the couch comfortably before looking and Hoseok, patting the cushion beside him. “Want to join?”

Hoseok stepped carefully into the nest like he would be kicked out at any moment, an invader in a sacred land. But Jungkook didn’t leap at him when he sat beside him, Jimin didn’t bare his teeth, Namjoon didn’t burst in with pack alpha anger to chase him out the door. He didn’t allow himself to relax, but he did sit carefully beside Jungkook, not close enough to touch but not far enough to put a deliberate distance between them.

“You have a beautiful home,” Hoseok said after a moment, not wanting to maintain rude silence.

Jimin turned and smiled at him, his eyes forming pleasant crescent moons. “Thanks. It’s ours.”

Hoseok understood what he meant, even if he didn’t know how it felt. The apartment he went home to, with a cold father and a colder bed, didn’t feel like home. It felt like a place he was obligated to be in, because he was an alpha’s omega son, because he had nowhere else to go, because he didn’t deserve anywhere else to be. It felt like a holding cell that he’d stay in forever, lost to the world behind dingy walls and purpling bruises.

Jimin and Jungkook’s argument over rewatching Transformers or The Notebook ended abruptly when they asked Hoseok to weigh in and the omega admitted he hadn’t seen either of them.

“Dirty Dancing?” Jimin asked incredulously.

Hoseok had lost count, but they had already listed off at least twenty titles he hadn’t seen before. Like he had for all of them, he shook his head. “Nope.”

“Old Boy?” Jungkook asked, perched on the edge of his seat.

“Nope,” Hoseok said, shaking his head.

“Totoro?”

“Nope.”

“Snowpiercer?”

“Nuh-uh,” Hoseok said, just to spice it up.

“The Host?”

“N—” Hoseok paused and blinked. “Yes. I had nightmares for weeks.”

“Oh, thank God,” Jungkook said, flopping back onto the sofa. “We have such a long list of stuff to watch, hyung, we’re gonna have to have movie night every night for three years.”

Jimin huffed a laugh but squinted at Hoseok thoughtfully. “Do you like thrillers?”

“I—I can watch anything, Jimin-ah.”

“That’s not a yes,” Jungkook said, head lolling over to look at him. “I mean, The Host is a creepy movie, I agree, but if it gave you nightmares—”

“They’re not my favorite,” Hoseok admitted, scratching at his wrist a little. “But seriously, don’t let me influence all this,” he gestured to the room at large.

Jimin squinted at him harder before nodding once, turning back to scroll through their options, pointedly skipping over the scarier subheadings. “Of course not.”

It wasn’t long before Seokjin yelled, “Dinner’s ready!”

Hoseok hoped they didn’t notice his embarrassing startled jump at the sudden noise, and if they did, they were kind enough to not mention it. He followed Jungkook into the dining room, hovering awkwardly until Jungkook smiled and pulled out the chair beside him. “Sit between me and Jiminie, hyung.”

Hoseok nodded and took his seat thankfully, feeling out of place at the fancy table with a fancier light fixture hanging above. Seokjin began to bring out the many, many dishes he had prepared and Hoseok quickly leapt to his feet. “Oh, let me help—”

Seokjin held up a hand stubbornly. “Don’t even think about it. You, however—” he said, pointing an accusatory finger at Jungkook, “be a good boy, maknae, come help hyung.” Jungkook sighed loudly but acquiesced, trailing after him to deliver plates to the table.

Jimin groaned as he came in. “Tae won’t be home tonight.”

“What?” Seokjin said, popping into the kitchen doorway with a frown. “Why?”

“His shoot ran over and he missed his flight. The next one is tomorrow morning.” Jimin sat on Hoseok’s other side, pouting at him. “Tae-yah’s our other mate. He’s been in Japan for three days and I’m dying.”

Seokjin ducked back into the kitchen after yelling again, “Dinner, Joon!”

Hoseok felt a small pang of envy as he gave him a sympathetic smile. “What does he do?”

“He’s a model,” Jimin grinned. Of course he was. Namjoon’s entire pack was composed of the most beautiful people Hoseok had ever seen, of course they had a model in their midst. “He started out a few years ago and he’s starting to get serious traction. He’s the main feature of the new Omega Moon line.”

Hoseok smiled again at the unmistakable pride in his voice. “I can’t imagine anyone more beautiful than you, Jimin-ah. He must be something else.”

“He is,” Jimin smiled, eyes happy and bright. Hoseok wondered vaguely what it was like to make someone smile like that. He doubted he would ever find out, but it was nice to witness. Jungkook sat back down as he and Seokjin finished bringing out the food; Jimin nudged Hoseok’s side when he saw Seokjin notice Namjoon’s absence. “Watch this,” he whispered.

Seokjin stormed off down the hall and disappeared out of sight, but they heard the office door slam open and Namjoon let out a loud yelp. Seokjin reappeared a second later, dragging Namjoon behind him by his ear. Hoseok’s eyes went wide and he felt a surge of panic—he had never seen anyone treat an alpha like that and he was pushed into sudden frantic worry about what he would do to his beta mate. No matter how odd their pack dynamics seemed, it had to be absurdly unacceptable to treat an alpha like that—like a child, or worse, an omega.

But Namjoon just rubbed his ear sheepishly after Seokjin deposited him in his seat at the head of the table. Seokjin glared at him but the fire behind it was quickly fading.

“Why don’t you drag Yoongi like that?” Namjoon complained.

“Because Yoongi is a good boy and texted me that he was on his way.”

Sure enough, there was the sound of someone coming down the stairs as Jin and Namjoon started to serve the food, and Hoseok was distracted by an odd, lovely scent he couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t anything on the table, as far as he could tell, but it was becoming quickly more and more pronounced. He furrowed his brows, trying to figure it out, where it was coming from, when both an alpha and a dizzying wave of orange and bergamot swept into the room.

The alpha was on the smaller side, made of sharp angles and rounded edges, black hair falling over dark eyes, his natural glower and bowed pink lips standing out on his pale skin. Hoseok knew he was staring rudely but he was unable to look away, and it seemed the alpha felt the same. He had frozen when their eyes met, standing stock still as he stared back at Hoseok, mouth slightly open, furrowed brows barely visible under his fringe.

Namjoon glanced between them. “Ah, Yoongi-hyung. This is Hoseok.”

“Hoseok,” Yoongi said, and his deep voice was the most pleasant thing Hoseok had ever heard, his own name rolling on Yoongi’s tongue like it was new and natural.

Hoseok just nodded jerkily, still staring. Yoongi stared back as he made his way to the table and slowly sat directly across from him, both of them oblivious to the murmur around them. Yoongi suddenly broke eye contact and jumped, rubbing his newly-kicked knee and glaring at Jungkook.

“You’re being weird, hyung,” said Jungkook with an innocent grin.

“You’re being a brat, brat,” Yoongi grumbled back, leaning back in his chair and scowling.

Jungkook snorted. “Good one. Can we eat, please—”

Hoseok ate everything that was put in front of him, giving Seokjin delighted compliments with every new taste, smiling when the beta preened happily. The extra helpings that Jimin and Namjoon tried to subtly put on his plate didn’t go unnoticed, but he was endlessly grateful—he was too thin, he knew that, and he only stopped when he felt he couldn’t eat another bite. It also didn’t escape his notice that everyone carefully made it appear that they weren’t done eating, as well, so he wouldn’t feel obligated to stop. It was slightly embarrassing to notice, but he wasn’t too proud to accept their kindness.

He was distracted throughout the meal, no matter how wonderful it was to be seated around a table with great company and filling food. The sweet, slightly musky scent that was Min Yoongi lingered around him like a misty fog, the newness of it almost uncomfortable. Though it wasn’t overpowering, it was potent, and Hoseok wasn’t sure how to process it. This hadn’t happened before, not in the slightest—he had encountered people with nice personal scents, like Namjoon’s clean rain water or his omega office mate’s gentle rose, and people with horrible ones, like the too-spicy cinnamon of his former beta boss and the nameless scent he could only associate with fear-pain-sorrow of his father. Yoongi was different.

The orange-bergamot-olive-leaves settled warmly into his bloodstream, thoroughly enough that he was almost convinced his heart was beating differently, the soul he wasn’t sure he had fluttering nervously around it. He worried it might be self-centered for him to think so, but he was fairly certain Yoongi was distracted, as well, and the thought made him wince. He knew his mossy-mint wasn’t necessarily pleasant. Omegas typically smelled floral and sweet, gentle and comforting and enticing. Hoseok considered himself unlucky in all ways, and his more-woods-than-garden scent was no different.

But Yoongi didn’t wrinkle his nose like some alphas he had slept with; he didn’t wince away or dismiss him entirely; he didn’t do anything but catch Hoseok’s eyes throughout their meal, both of them staring unrepentantly, perplexed and fixated, ignoring the baffled glances between them from everyone else.

“Yoongi-hyung—” Jungkook’s voice finally broke through, pulling their attention away from each other. “Stop being weird and pick a movie. Jiminie wants to watch The Notebook again and I might die—”

“It’s a classic and Hoseok-hyung hasn’t seen it!” Jimin argued with a pout.

“He hasn’t seen Transformers either, and that doesn’t make me cry—”

Hoseok wasn’t sure what they picked in the end, even as they watched it. He was too distracted by Yoongi sitting beside him. There was a foot between them, at least, but he could practically feel the warmth radiating from the alpha, though he was pretty sure it was all in his head. He could see his pale face illuminated by the light of the television, thought maybe he could see Yoongi watch him out of the corner of his eye, and wondered if Yoongi saw him do the same.

He wondered if Yoongi scented his mossy-mint as much as he scented his orange-bergamot.

He wondered if he liked it.

Chapter 5

Chapter Text

Yoongi was—a distraction. A good distraction, but a distraction nonetheless.

It wasn’t like Hoseok spent every waking hour thinking about the alpha, not by a long shot. He had other people in his life; he had made friends with a few of his coworkers and they went out after work sometimes, and he and Jimin were quickly growing closer, texting frequently enough that Hoseok had to buy another prepaid phone card to keep up (gladly, though, the cost was worth it). He had things to do; he still worked in the hotel’s laundry every early morning on the weekends, he still had data to diligently enter at Kim-Min, he still had johns to f*ck.

If he thought of Yoongi once or twice during that, when he wasn’t paying attention and allowed his mind to wander a bit too far, no one would ever know. It didn’t fill him with the giddy omega crush feelings that he had read about in too many webtoons, though. It was like a bucket of cold water was dumped on him and the ice was settling on his stomach and making everything feel frostbitten and numb. Sick and guilty, pathetic and depressed. The alpha came on his face in the end, too, just to make everything worse. He couldn’t help but think maybe Yoongi wouldn’t do that if he asked him not to.

He wasn’t picked up as much as he used to be—not because he had lost appeal (if anything he had gained appeal, slowly gaining healthy weight with Jin’s insistent doting), but because he spent less time on the street. It started out slow (almost, Hoseok noticed, like they had a schedule) with Jimin or Jin texting him to come over once or twice a week or Namjoon coming down from the top floor to find him, just to spice up the invitations.

Once (once), Yoongi came down. Hoseok had seen him from across the room just as he took a sip of coffee and had immediately choked, hurrying out to the hall to save himself some embarrassment from his coughing fit. Apparently, Yoongi hadn’t come down to meet with the floor’s higher-ups like Hoseok thought he might have, because he appeared in the hall only a moment later, looking at a still-sputtering Hoseok with concern.

“Hoseok,” he said, and Hoseok could have passed out from the smooth sound of his deep voice. “Are you okay?”

He nodded quickly, throat clearing enough for him to choke out, “Yes, sir, thank you—”

Yoongi made a face. Paired with his probably-Armani-or-something suit, it was almost comical. “Call me hyung. We’re friends.”

Hoseok stopped himself from mouthing ‘Friends?’ and cleared his throat a final time. “Were you looking for me, hyung?”

“Oh—” Yoongi blinked. “Yes. Movie night is tomorrow. Come?”

“Ha, uh. Okay. Yeah, I—I can do that,” Hoseok said, watching Yoongi watch him.

They stared at each other for a long, quiet, confusing moment, but it was a familiar one. They had done this a lot, recently. Just look. He would catch Yoongi’s eye across the table during dinners at the pack house and they would stare until someone let out some sort of pointed noise. They would sit near each other in the den, sometimes, and they wouldn’t be looking at each other with their eyes, but Hoseok felt his presence so intensely that he thought it was comparable, and from the way Yoongi sometimes shifted or glanced over, he thought it wasn’t one-sided. They were sent back into reality when someone passed by them in the hall, reminding them that other people did, in fact, exist within a one mile radius.

“Good,” Yoongi said, a light blush dusting his cheeks as he looked around at anything but Hoseok. “I’ll let everyone know.”

Hoseok nodded, rubbing his ear for some sort of distraction. “Thanks. Uh—you’ll be there?”

Yoongi quickly glanced up and back down just as quickly. “Yeah. Mandatory.”

“Was it mandatory that you cried last week during—” he teased before he could stop himself.

“It had a dog in it, Hoseok!”

Hoseok laughed, ducking his head. “Sure, yeah, sorry. It’s your turn, right? Make sure there aren’t any dogs this time.”

The corners of Yoongi’s lips were betraying him as he tried to maintain a defensive scowl. “We need to add you into the rotation.”

“I—” Hoseok blinked. “I don’t think I’m eligible for that, hyung.”

Yoongi peered at him for a moment before reaching into his pocket and, bizarrely, pulling out a clementine and handing it to him.

It took him a moment to move past the line of question marks running through his mind, but Hoseok slowly smiled at him, eyes crinkling. “Thank you, Yoongi-hyung.”

Yoongi nodded once before spinning on his heel and walking away before Hoseok even had the chance to blink.

-

His smile is a heart, Yoongi thought as he left. His smile is a heart. His smile is a heart.

-

Hoseok got a text at five on the dot.

Unknown: in the lobby

Jung Hoseok: sorry who is this??

Unknown: yoongi

Jung Hoseok: oh ! sorry
Jung Hoseok: i didnt know you had my number
Jung Hoseok: i’ll be there in 5 sorry

Min Yoongi: no more sorries

Hoseok took a deep breath and began to pack up his things, swinging his second-hand messenger bag over his shoulder and straightening his tie like he was about to make a first impression. In a way, he was. He’d never been alone with Yoongi, not really—maybe when he was at lunch with him and Namjoon and Namjoon ran to the restroom, or when Yoongi cornered him in the hallway to give him fruit from his pocket (which was still… the line of question marks appeared scrolled through his head every time he thought of it).

He froze as his hand brushed his neck and tugged his shirt collar up as much as he could. There was a bite mark indented into his neck, from a customer who didn’t listen when he weakly said to not do that, that he didn’t want to be bitten. It was an intimidation tactic, Hoseok knew. He’d had that john before, he knew he liked to cause just enough pain for the omega’s scent to spike with trepidation, with fear. The bite hadn’t taken, thank god, mating bites usually only took during heats for omegas, and it would normally be nothing more than a sick reminder that could be covered up with enough concealer. But thinking about Namjoon’s pack seeing it—it made a cold chill run up his spine.

It was a reminder of what he was, how they met, that he wasn’t one of them, that all but one of them were in love and actually mated and didn’t have to worry about anyone marking their necks if they didn’t want them to.

Just his luck that he didn’t bring any makeup with him. He took a deep breath, tugged his collar up again, and joined a group of his coworkers in the elevator.

Yoongi’s presence in the lobby was noticed by everyone. He was an imposing figure, despite his smaller stature; he commanded the room even as he scrolled through his phone with one hand, the other lazily tucked into his blazer pocket. They all noticed him notice Hoseok, too. They all noticed the little smile he shot him, the jerk of his head to tell him to come over. Hoseok wondered if they noticed the blush on his own cheeks, or heard the way his heart started to flutter.

“Hoseok,” Yoongi greeted, putting his phone in his pocket.

Having all Yoongi’s attention on him was intense, even now. He gave him a small bow just to force himself to stop looking at him. “Yoongi-hyung.”

Yoongi snorted and touched his shoulder. “Don’t. Come on, Jimin and Jungkook are making dinner and I want to make sure we get the whatever's least likely to kill us.”

“They’re not that bad,” Hoseok laughed. “They’re getting better.”

“I’m used to Jin’s cooking,” he said, touching Hoseok’s elbow before starting to walk. “I know you are, too.”

“I think his strike is justified.” Hoseok paused. “I do hope he crosses the picket line soon, though.”

Yoongi huffed a laugh and it made Hoseok’s heart flutter all over again. “He will. He’s never actually lasted a week before. But those were his favorite bowls and Namjoon’s still trying to find replacements, so.”

Hoseok hummed and got into the passenger seat, glad Namjoon had conditioned him to be less nervous in fancy cars. Yoongi’s was fancier, though—Hoseok had next to no knowledge about them, but he knew that nothing cheap had such buttery leather seats. The engine revved when Yoongi turned it on and Hoseok really hoped it wasn’t awakening something in him.

Yoongi froze as he looked over his shoulder to back out and Hoseok furrowed his brow, glancing at him. Yoongi was staring at his neck.

Hoseok’s hand immediately flew up to cover the bite that was peeking out over his collar, going red, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment and hoping, hoping Yoongi hadn’t really noticed, that it was just coincidence. He knew he was wrong.

Yoongi turned the radio on as he drove, offering considering huhs at things he liked and derisive hmms at things he didn’t. They didn’t talk much, really, other than the obligatory “How was your day?” and “The weather was good, wasn’t it?” It was almost more painful than Yoongi asking about the bite outright, though it made him queasy to think about answering.

Maybe it was a little conniving that he mentioned to Jimin that he was chilly knowing that the beta would immediately find him something to put on—a hoodie that made it much, much easier to hide the bite than just his button-up, and had the bonuses of smelling like Jimin’s jasmine and lemongrass and allowing him to comfortably loosen his tie and collar. He still felt Yoongi’s eyes on him, though that wasn’t unusual. It was unusual for him to not look back, as he was often unable to resist the odd pull he felt. He couldn’t bring himself to look at him, knowing what he was.

He, Jimin and Jungkook laughed throughout dinner as they always did. He still hadn’t met Tae—it was completely coincidental; he kept missing him by minutes, almost, with Tae having to head out to shoots or flying off to Japan to work with whatever company had been lucky enough to hire him. His mates talked about him enough that Hoseok felt like he knew him already. He hoped they’d get along as much as they all thought they would. Jin grumpily ate the simple gimbap Jimin and Jungkook had prepared, shooting Namjoon the occasional glare; Namjoon never stopped looking contrite, just as he hadn't the past three days. Yoongi stared at Hoseok the entire time, ignoring everyone’s occasional tease.

Although he had been Yoongi’s focus for nearly two hours at that point, it still took him by surprise when he sat beside him on the nest’s couch before anyone else had the chance. Jin usually took one side, and Jimin usually took the other, even though they hadn't broken the wall that would allow them to cuddle with Hoseok like they all did with each other. He knew it was for his own sake—he tried to not get their scents on them much, not wanting to bring them home to his father, but he craved it so much that it would be worth the risk. He was thirsty for kind touches, but he couldn't imagine letting himself ask. Being pleasantly boxed in by the two betas was a soothing substitute. But Jin was on his right and Yoongi was on his left, now—the side with the bite, Hoseok realized, with a sinking sadness in his chest.

He felt Yoongi put his arm around the back of the couch, close enough to his shoulders that he could feel the warmth radiating from him. He was hyper-aware of the proximity, especially as it dragged on—the movie was well underway by the time Yoongi’s fingers brushed the nape of his neck, pausing when he tensed but continuing as soon as Hoseok forced himself to relax, wanting the contact to continue. His hand slowly roamed down his neck, brushing against the bite for only a moment before his thumb brushed against the scent gland under his jaw, just barely, barely, before stopping entirely.

Hoseok couldn’t stop himself from glancing at him as soon as he started to pull away, his eyes wide. Yoongi looked back at him for a moment, his hand frozen in its retreat before slowly coming back, touching him again, watching him carefully. Hoseok didn’t flinch, didn’t look away—he didn’t mean to lean into the contact at all, but Yoongi caught the small tilt of his head, the hopeful look in his half-panicked eyes, the way his neck revealed the quickened pulse of his heart. Yoongi stroked his jaw, softer than anything he’d ever felt, his whimper was luckily covered by everyone else laughing at the movie, not paying any attention to the monumental event happening beside them.

Yoongi looked away but kept touching him, comforting, soft, alpha in a way that didn’t make Hoseok want to cringe away, alpha in a way that made Hoseok want to keep touching him forever.

“Pause!” Jungkook said abruptly, making Hoseok jump. Yoongi didn’t pull away. “Can we take five? Snack break.”

Jin acquiesced and paused, getting up to stretch, Namjoon continued to snore quietly from his spot on the floor, Jungkook headed off to the kitchen to make more popcorn, and Jimin went to the bathroom, leaving Yoongi and Hoseok effectively alone.

They were silent for a while, with Yoongi’s thumb rubbing soft circles around his gland, avoiding the bite a few inches below.

Yoongi was quiet when he finally spoke. “I don’t have a savior complex.”

Hoseok blinked. “What?”

“I don’t have a savior complex,” he repeated. His eyes were serious when he looked at him. “I’m not going to keep you from doing what you want to do. Or what you think you have to do. But I want you to be safe. I—” he hesitated, continuing more carefully. “I want to keep you safe. I can’t help it.”

Hoseok opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He wasn’t sure what to say.

“I just want you to know I care.”

Everyone started to file back in before Hoseok could gather himself enough to respond. Yoongi kept touching him, his fingers started threading through the hair on the nape of his neck when his gland started to become too sensitive. Hoseok was—scared. He wasn’t scared of Yoongi. He wasn’t scared of being touched. He was scared that he wasn’t scared. He was scared that he wanted him to keep touching him. He was scared that Yoongi cared because that meant Yoongi noticed him and that meant Yoongi saw him for what he was.

Panic began to rise as he realized he wasn’t panicked—it was stupid, he knew it was stupid, but he couldn’t escape the fear that came from getting attached to something he wasn’t allowed to have. He couldn’t do that to Yoongi—to anyone in Namjoon’s pack. They were so good, not only to him but just in general, just because they had so much good in them. He didn’t. He wasn’t the same. He couldn’t let himself be fooled into thinking he was because there was no way in hell he could keep this forever and it would already absolutely destroy him when they realized he didn’t belong and it had only been a couple months and if Yoongi kept touching him like he deserved it he might cry.

He had to go, he decided. He had to leave, he had to go earlier than he planned, he had to go remind himself what the f*ck he was, why he didn’t deserve this, why he was just lucky and his luck would run out quick because he had never been lucky in his life.

He stood abruptly, feeling shaky and nauseous and scared. Yoongi looked at him, surprised, almost hurt, everyone turned to see what was happening, everyone was looking at him and then there was a door opening, a voice yelling out, “I’m home!,” someone coming in, someone else looking at him, someone—

Kim Taehyung froze in the door, Kim Taehyung said “Hobi?”, quiet and hopeful, Kim Taehyung came close, slowly, like Hoseok would disappear.

Kim Taehyung hugged him for the first time in six years, and Hoseok broke.

Chapter 6

Chapter Text

When he was seventeen, Hoseok met Taehyung. He was a bright boy, with hope in his eyes, a big heart, not yet disillusioned with their lot in life. He was fifteen, and much, much, much too young to be working on the street. Nevermind that Hoseok had been working the street since he was younger. Taehyung was different. Taehyung still had a chance.

“Hyung!” Taehyung would greet him with a genuine smile, wrapping his thin jacket around his thin body and giving a thinner Hoseok a hug. “I missed you.”

“Tae-yah,” Hoseok would say, handing him whatever snack he had managed to afford or steal from the corner store. “I already ate, finish this for me.”

Taehyung was sweet and trustful and didn’t question him as long as there was a bite taken out of it. He would thank him, cuddle up to his side as much as they could while they stood, waiting for someone to pick them up. They had matching bruises a lot of the time, from Taehyung’s omega father’s new mate, from Hoseok’s angry father, from johns that liked to leave their mark on young omegas and paid for the right.

Hoseok made sure Taehyung didn’t get those customers as much as he could. He’d hide Taehyung behind him, or lean through the car window and tell them he wasn’t for sale, but Hoseok was. More often than not, they’d take him up on it, especially when he offered a discount to the ones that seemed reluctant to leave Taehyung behind. When he spotted their more notorious regulars, he’d go so far as to shove him into the alley and get in the car before Taehyung could protest, because he was much too kind and would protest if given the opportunity.

That went on for nearly four years—Hoseok taking care of this sweet boy who deserved so much better than the life they had been given. They split cheap motel rooms when they had earned enough sometimes, skeevy pay-by-the-hour types, spent the night laughing, watching cheesy p*rn because it was the only thing on love hotel televisions, eating snacks from vending machines, cuddling up with each other and fueling their will to live, knowing there was someone in the world who cared about them, who wanted to hold them, who wanted to be around them without f*cking, without paying, without kicking them out into the cold after they were wrought out.

When they were twenty-one and nineteen respectively, Taehyung’s cousin ran into him by chance, one he had spent the good years of his childhood with before his family moved to Seoul and things went to sh*t. She invited him back to Daegu, to stay with her and her best friend for a while, to reconnect and get away from the Seoul smog.

He didn’t want to leave Hoseok.

Hoseok said he’d never talk to him again if he didn’t go. He was crying while he said it, but he had to get Taehyung out, had to keep him safe, and if that meant he couldn’t be around him to do so—it hurt, watching him leave. His cousin gave him her address, in case he needed to write.

“Or in case you want a vacation,” she had said with a smile that was almost like Taehyung’s. The pity stung, but he appreciated the thought anyways. He couldn’t afford subway tickets as it was, much less a trip outside of the city. He hugged Taehyung one last time before letting him go. He didn’t see him again.

Not til Kim Taehyung walked into Namjoon’s pack’s nest like he belonged there because of course he did. No one in the world deserved to be around so many beautiful, kind people more than Taehyung, no one in the world deserved more love than Taehyung.

“Hyung—” Taehyung whispered, voice shaking. He was holding Hoseok almost painfully tight, hiding his face in the crook of his neck.

Hoseok nodded jerkily into his shoulder, the highest point he could reach. He let out a wet sob that was supposed to be a laugh but was likely just pitiful and held on tighter. “You’re tall,” he said. Taehyung nodded and kissed his temple because he could do that now, without even standing on his tiptoes.

They couldn’t say any more, too caught up in the feeling of finding each other again, the familiar scent of each other, familiar comfort, familiar desperation to keep each other safe.

The rest of the room was silent and Hoseok couldn’t find it in himself to acknowledge the confused stares that had to be trained on them, or the surprised gasp from somewhere behind when Taehyung dipped his head to scent his neck, whining softly until Hoseok did the same.

They stood there for a few more long moments, wrapped in each others’ arms until Taehyung pulled back, cheeks glistening. “I didn’t know your name was Hoseok, Hobi-hyung.”

Hoseok laughed, wiping Taehyung’s tears away before his own. “I missed you, Taehyungie. You’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” he confirmed quietly, giving him a small smile. “I—” he paused, glancing around the room, nodding at Jimin just to acknowledge that something was occurring. “Let’s catch up.”

As soon as Hoseok nodded, Taehyung grabbed his hand and led him upstairs to the art studio slash study slash storage room he had seen on Jin’s thorough tour when he first started visiting. He didn’t hesitate to fall on the futon beside Taehyung, hugging him close and burying his nose in his neck again, still convincing himself that this was real. He’d dreamed about Taehyung a couple times but he never remembered his scent this clearly; there was no way the soothing lavender and chamomile, as clear and innocent as it’s owner, was a figment of his imagination.

“You’re okay?” he asked again after a moment. If he was here, if he was the mysterious Tae that was a part of Namjoon’s pack, he knew in his heart that he had to be okay, but he had to make sure.

“I’m okay. I’m really—I’m okay.” Taehyung let out a shaky breath, emitting vulnerability and worry. “I tried to find you, Hobi-hyung, I really—”

“I changed spots after you left,” Hoseok admitted quietly, stroking his cheek apologetically. “I never—I never thought you’d look for me, sweetheart, I never—”

“Thought you were gone,” Taehyung whispered, a secretive fear.

It was a reasonable worry. Omegas like them disappeared all the time, by their alpha’s own hand or some unknown other's. Hoseok had seen it happen to a couple of his fellow workers, and it never stopped being heartwrenching, horrifying, a seemingly-inescapable danger. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Tae—”

Taehyung shook his head quickly to get him to stop, pulling back to search his eyes, trying to memorize them again. Hoseok knew that’s what he was doing. He was doing the same.

“How was Daegu?”

“Good,” Taehyung said, quick and honest. “It was really good. I—I stayed with my cousin, she’s really nice, and no one came looking for me.” That was a reasonable worry, too. Alphas hated losing their property. “I got my high school qualifications.”

“Good boy,” Hoseok said softly, smoothing his hair back just like he used to. “Proud of you, sweetheart.”

Taehyung beamed and grabbed his wrist to keep him there. Hoseok huffed a laugh and scritched his hair obligingly. “Didn’t bother with the CSATs, though, but, you know. Who would?”

Hoseok laughed again and just took him in for a long moment. “How?” he asked finally.

Taehyung understood. “I was working at a coffee shop. I loved it,” he grinned. “I don’t even drink coffee, but it was a really cool place, and I got free food. And—” he caught himself before he got lost in the details. That was new, Hoseok noted. He had never gotten used to Taehyung’s endearing, confusing train-of-thought. “Yoongi-hyung was a regular while he was in town for work. I saw him—every day for a month, and we started to hang out when we weren’t working, just—lunch and stuff. I thought he liked me for a while,” he giggled, conspiratorial. “But he didn’t, he was just—nice, and friendly, and then he brought Jimin one day and—”

Taehyung looked so overwhelmed with happiness that Hoseok had to smile, tugging his hair fondly. “And?”

“We’re soulmates, hyung. It was like—he walked in, and looked at me, and I never, ever wanted him to look away. And he didn’t.”

“Soulmates?” Hoseok asked. Even with Taehyung’s earnest tone, he couldn’t help but be skeptical.

“Soulmates,” he asserted, eyes wide and honest. “We looked at each other and we knew. Capital K Knew.”

Hoseok bit his cheek, considering before he spoke, hoping he wasn’t being obvious. “How did you know? Sometimes stories say something about smell—”

“Yes!” Taehyung laughed, delighted. “Jiminie smelled better than anyone in the world, hyung, you would never believe—”

Hoseok thought maybe he did.

“And—he smelled a little like Jungkook, too, but they weren’t mates, then, they were waiting til they were older to make it official, but I met him and it was like that, too, both of them—” Taehyung sighed loudly, taking a deep breath. “They took me home with them, even after I told them everything. I really—I’m really good, hyung. I never thought I’d be this good.”

“I’m so glad, Tae-yah.” Hoseok snuggled him close again, tucking Taehyung’s head under his chin, just like he used to do, kissing his hair. “My little baby, all grown up.”

“I was never a little baby, hyung—” Taehyung complained, just like he used to do.

“You’ve always been my little baby,” Hoseok said, just like he used to do.

Taehyung sighed but snuggled closer, nosing Hoseok’s neck. “I really missed you, hyung. And now you’re here.”

“Namjoon,” Hoseok said. He thought that was an explanation in itself, and judging by Taehyung’s laugh, he agreed.

“Makes sense. You’ve been here, we just kept—missing each other. I can’t believe—”

“Neither can I.”

Taehyung pulled away abruptly, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Are you staying tonight?” he asked, then sagged at the immediate guilt that covered Hoseok’s face.

“My father.” It was as much of an explanation as ‘Namjoon’. “I can stay a little bit longer, though. Miss you too much to leave right away.”

“And you’ll come back?”

“I’ll come back.”

Taehyung nodded, satisfied, tucking himself close again. “You should stay, though. Everyone wants you to stay. I know—” he added quickly, feeling Hoseok tense up. “I know. But. Something to think about.”

They laid together for another hour, silent but awake, reacquainting themselves—they had been each others’ favorite person, once, the most important person, loving and protecting and caring for each other in a way no one else bothered to. It wasn’t the same now, but those feelings of solidarity had never gone away. Hoseok was sure he’d still go to the same lengths to keep his baby omega safe, but now—he didn’t need to.

He sighed reluctantly, petting Taehyung’s hair soothingly at his objecting whimper. “I have to go, Taehyungie.”

“But you’ll be back?” Taehyung pouted, tears in his eyes.

“I’ll be back,” Hoseok reassured again, smiling softly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Walk me out?”

Taehyung nodded and sat up, still pouting. “Wait, I wanna show you—”

Hoseok blinked as Taehyung tugged his sleeve up, thrusting his arm out with an eager expression, showing him the clear bite on the soft skin of his wrist.

This was different than a mating bite—there were two of those on Taehyung’s neck, carefully parallel, symmetrical in a way Taehyung no doubt loved. The mark on his wrist was a sign of belonging. Pack bites were much rarer than they had been in the past. Packs tended to come and go, nowadays, with members joining one then moving to another once there was a better fit or a new move or a different life. Pack bites were a sign of permanency, that the pack was dedicated to staying a pack, the members dedicated to staying with each other.

Taehyung was showing him that he was entirely committed to being a part of this incredible family that Namjoon had created. He had been invited to their home and into their arms and into their lives and had readily accepted their welcome as much as they readily accepted his presence.

Taehyung was showing him it was possible.

Hoseok didn’t know how to deal with the emotions that stirred; he held Taehyung’s wrist gently, covering the mark, giving him a little smile that he hoped he would understand. “Walk me out, baby.”

Taehyung laced their fingers together as they went downstairs, Hoseok bidding quiet goodbyes to the curious few still remaining in the den when they passed through. Taehyung didn’t let go of his hand til they reached the door, where he pressed a smacking kiss to his cheek before quickly scenting him again. “Come back, okay?”

“I won’t leave you again,” Hoseok said. It was a promise.

With a satisfied nod, Taehyung let him leave, watching him go towards the subway for a moment before closing the door. Jimin called his name not a moment later.

Hoseok turned, furrowing his brow as Jimin ran to meet him. “Hyung, I just—” he started, pretty eyes flitting over Hoseok’s face before he threw his arms around Hoseok’s shoulders, tugging him into a warm hug, swaying a little because there was too much feeling to stay entirely still. “Thank you. Taehyungie’s told us about you before. You—f*ck, you saved him, you know? And I’m willing to bet it’s even more times than he remembers. I can’t thank you enough.”

“It’s—it’s nothing,” Hoseok muttered when Jimin pulled back to dab at his teary eyes.

“It’s everything, hyung. He’s half of my entire world. I can’t imagine a life without him. And without you—” Jimin took a shaky breath before hugging him again, nosing his neck for a moment before pulling away, taking a step back. “Thank you. I’m glad you have each other again. He really has missed you.” Jimin huffed a laugh, wiping his eyes again. “Even if he didn’t know your name.”

Hoseok blushed and ducked his head but had to laugh, too. “I don’t like giving my real name when working, so. I guess it’s all he knew me as.”

Jimin looked incredibly fond and Hoseok’s heart melted a little. Taehyung was good. Taehyung had Jimin. “Thank you. Again. I’ll never stop thanking you.”

“Please do,” he half-begged. “I hate being thanked, you know that at this point—”

“I’ll never stop bringing you treats, then,” Jimin said, tilting his chin up stubbornly.

Hoseok laughed, rolling his eyes a little. “I’ll take it.”

“Good compromise,” Jimin nodded. “I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch, okay? Taehyungie, too, if he doesn’t have anything scheduled.”

“If he does, will you make sure he goes to it? I know him.”

Jimin laughed. “Yeah, I know him, too. I’ll do my best. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” Hoseok nodded, accepting one more quick hug before continuing on his way.

When he got home, he handed his father some of the bills Namjoon and Jin had taken to discreetly tucking in his pockets and was allowed to flee without any argument. He hadn’t even thought about the possible consequences of Yoongi touching him so much until he was behind a closed door—Taehyung and Jimin must have covered up the scent of alpha enough to escape his father’s notice. Either way, he forced himself to take a longer shower than usual, wincing at the freezing water and scrubbing as quickly as possible.

He went to sleep tucked under the warm blanket Jungkook had snuck into his bag a few weeks ago, unable to stop himself from dreaming about the impossible day he’d had, unable to stop hoping that tomorrow would be just as impossible.

Chapter 7

Chapter Text

Now that Hoseok and Taehyung had reunited, it was hard to find one without the other. Hoseok called Taehyung on his way to work and Taehyung always answered, even if it was just to snore at him over the phone. Taehyung either tagged along with one of the others to take Hoseok to lunch or came on his own, holding his hand the entire time. Hoseok was plastered to his side during movie nights and Taehyung let him sleep on his shoulder after a long day—something that effectively broke the barrier between Hoseok and the others, allowing someone else to always sit close, as well, drawing patterns on his arms and combing their fingers through his hair and graciously pretending they didn’t notice him cry at the tenderness.

Sometimes there was a playful scuffle to claim his other side, with Jin claiming seniority, Namjoon claiming alphahood, and Jimin and Jungkook claiming other-best-friendship. But, more often than not, Yoongi would sit beside him silently and no one would try to argue, gently holding onto Hoseok's wrist or lazily tracing his ear or rubbing soft circles around his scent gland. Taehyung gave him knowing looks sometimes, but there seemed to be an unspoken pact for everyone else to not acknowledge whatever Hoseok and Yoongi were doing until Hoseok and Yoongi acknowledged it themselves.

It was hard to acknowledge ‘it’ when Hoseok had no idea what ‘it’ was.

Yoongi didn’t scent him, and Hoseok wasn’t even sure he’d let him if he tried, wasn’t even sure he wanted him to. But he did touch him, his neck, his glands, his hands, his back. Hoseok knew that was something he wanted, knew he wanted him to keep touching him, wanted Yoongi to touch him forever. They kept looking at each other, across the dinner table, in the dark den, in the lobby when Yoongi drove them home—

Home.

The first time Hoseok realized that was what he thought of the pack house as, he had cancelled his plans with Jimin immediately. He went to his actual home, as he forcibly reminded himself, greeting his disparaging father and their deteriorating walls and the smell of cigarette smoke he desperately tried to keep from his room. He felt almost vindicated when he was pushed down by a customer that night, f*cked too rough and too dry, narrowly avoiding the knot the aggressive alpha tried to surprise him with. He did tip, though, and left Hoseok with a couple thousand extra won and spit on his cheek.

Hoseok allowed himself to cry in the shower after he left, taking advantage of the twenty minutes he had left in the room. He scrubbed his face raw and his c*nt rawer, trying to erase all evidence of the alpha’s come and harsh treatment. The hotel clerk was used to red-faced omegas doing the numb walk of shame and paid him no attention as he left. His phone buzzed as he began the lonely walk to his haunt.

Tae: whyyyyyy
Tae: dinner whyyyyyyyyy
Tae: 😞

Jung Hoseok: busy
Jung Hoseok: sorry baby

Tae: where are you im skipping too
Tae: gonna get stir fry
Tae: if u dont tell me where u r ill cryyyyyy

Hoseok sighed, leaning against the wall of a convenience store. He knew Taehyung would cry, and he couldn’t stand the thought. He sent the address and didn’t reply to Taehyung’s string of random emojis, crossing his arms and closing his eyes to wait. When he opened them again, it was not Taehyung’s now-familiar car pulling up to the curb, but Yoongi’s.Taehyung waved at him enthusiastically from the passenger seat, Yoongi giving him a tiny smile in greeting. Hoseok raised his eyebrows and took a steeling breath before getting in, hoping he cleaned the smell of the alpha away thoroughly enough, even if he knew that they knew what job he had been working.

“We’re gonna have a picnic,” Taehyung said, turning around to look at him with an enthusiastic grin. “Yoongi-hyung brought a blanket and everything.”

Hoseok glanced at Yoongi as he drove, lips quirking when he saw the alpha’s blush. “Oh yeah?”

“It was in the car already,” Yoongi mumbled. Hoseok’s phone buzzed.

Tae: no it wasnt

Hoseok coughed to cover up his laugh. “Thanks for—you didn’t have to pick me up. I cancelled on you.”

Taehyung snorted and Hoseok could tell he was pouting without looking at him. “For a stupid reason.”

“You don’t know the reason.”

“Cancelling on us for any reason is a stupid reason, hyung. I missed you,” he huffed.

Hoseok melted into his seat, any hold-out he still had disappearing. “You saw me at lunch, Tae-yah.”

Yoongi met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “I missed you, too.”

That threw Hoseok into warmed, perplexed silence. He had seen Yoongi that morning, when Namjoon had met him in the lobby with a pastry from Jin. He and Yoongi had just looked at each other then, too, but there was clear honesty in his eyes now.

Taehyung turned up the radio when one of Jungkook’s songs came on, singing along with intentionally wrong lyrics just to make Hoseok laugh and Yoongi roll his eyes. They led him to a park close to the pack house; one that made it very clear they were in a wealthy district, with carefully-placed wildflowers and a well-maintained pond and distinct lack of people that Hoseok would normally associate with.

He pushed the discomfort aside to squeeze Taehyung’s hand and briefly touch Yoongi’s elbow as they picked out a picnic spot. “This is beautiful, wow—”

Yoongi spread out the blanket (a classic red and white checked gingham, like he had seen in movies; thinking aboutYoongi picking it out was almost too cute to handle) and gestured for them to sit, claiming a spot where he could lean against a tree. Hoseok sat beside him—close enough to touch if they both tried, but far enough away that he wasn’t overwhelmed by the proximity.

Though he wouldn’t be surprised if Taehyung had pulled out even more stops and made picnic-appropriate sandwiches and lemonade, he stuck to his word and started unpacking boxes of stir fry, making Hoseok’s stomach growl. He accepted his large portion with a self-conscious grin. As it always did, that self-consciousness quickly faded as they ate their meal, with Taehyung leading the conversation with stories about the less stressful parts of his modeling career and the nearly-there comeback of one of Kim-Min's groups.

The passion on Yoongi’s face when he talked about his work was—a lot. Hoseok wondered if that passion was present in other parts of his life, as well.

The second Taehyung caught sight of a little yellow duckling in the pond, he was gone, leaving his hyungs alone with a gasped explanation as he was already walking away. They sat in comfortable silence for a moment as they watched Taehyung from afar, getting dirt on his much-too-expensive jeans as he knelt down to get better angles.

“He’s a good kid,” Yoongi said after a moment.

Hoseok glanced at the fond smile on his lips and quickly turned his gaze back to the other omega, his heart swooping in his chest. “He really is. Always has been. He’s—” he swallowed, trying to push at least some of the emotion in his voice down, not wanting their conversation to be weighed down by heavy feelings. “He’s really lucky to have you, hyung. All of you.”

Yoongi was watching him when Hoseok chanced another glance. After a long, familiar moment of just looking, Yoongi plucked a yellow cosmos Hoseok had admired when they first got there. Before he could protest taking it from its natural place, he tucked it behind Hoseok’s ear. Hoseok’s mouth went lax, eyes wide as Yoongi traced his jaw before tugging his earlobe gently. “Pretty.”

“I—” Hoseok started. His mouth was suddenly bone-dry, mind completely blank. Yoongi was close—so close, so beautiful, so captivating, his very image intoxicating, not to mention the overwhelming orange-bergamot taking over Hoseok’s senses. “Hyung?”

“Okay!” Taehyung yelled, plopping back down beside them as he flipped through the photos he had just taken of ducks. “Okay, so—” he looked up, taking in the odd scene in front of him, Hoseok flushed and speechless, Yoongi dark-eyed and alpha. “Okay?”

Hoseok nodded quickly, ducking his head and busying himself packing up their food.

Taehyung looked between them again, slow and suspicious. “It’s starting to get chilly. Want to go back home?”

Hoseok frowned a little. “I can’t. I have—mm.”

“Are you sure you have to, hyungie?” Taehyung pouted, grabbing his hand and lacing their fingers together. “I wanna cuddle.”

“I have to, Tae-yah,” Hoseok said with a soft smile, squeezing his hand. “Maybe tomorrow, okay?”

“I’ll wait for you,” Yoongi said. “After work.”

Hoseok jumped a little, having almost forgotten he was there with Taehyung looking at him with those pleading eyes. “Thanks, hyung.”

-

The sight of Hoseok-from-the-Analysis-Department meeting one or both of the CEOs had become familiar enough that no one paid them any mind. It became even more familiar when Yoongi waited for him in the lobby the next day, and a few days after, and the day after that—taking Hoseok to the pack house, feeding him, claiming the side that Taehyung hadn’t cuddled up to.

Although Hoseok was sure it was real at this point, he was sure that everyone cared about him (wildly, bizarrely, confusingly), it still felt like a dream. Hoseok was familiar with dreams. Hoseok was familiar with dreams turning sour. He was familiar with the bright spots in his life—school, dance, Taehyung—all turning dark. He knew that his time with Namjoon’s pack would be no different, but he couldn’t self-sabotage, couldn’t make himself move away from the hurt before it happened. It would still be the one golden blip he could look back on and think maybe life was worth it after all.

Jungkook dropped him off in front of his apartment building a week after the picnic, waving him off with his bright bunny smile and a promise to see him the next day for bowling with the pack. Hoseok laughed and ruffled Jungkook's hair the way he only pretended to hate, waved back, walked up the creaking metal stairs to his apartment, and met his father at the door.

His father leaned against the wall, a cigarette in the middle of his scowl, arms crossed, no kindness in his eyes. There never was. He opened the door, and Hoseok went in. His father followed.

-

It was nearing four in the morning by the time Hoseok finally recognized anything around him. He wasn’t sure how long he had been walking, but he’d long since stopped feeling the ache in his legs. It was chilly out, even though summer had a few more weeks left. Maybe it wasn’t cold, really. Maybe he was just trying to pretend he was shivering and not in shock.

He didn’t have anything with him. He had set his bag down before it had begun and wasn’t able to grab it when he ran. No coat, no money, no phone.

But he recognized that cafe, now, though its lights were dark, and not much was open so late at night. Another few blocks and he recognized the community garden he had complimented once, where the kind halmoni he had talked to practical shoved a bag of freshly-picked produce into his still-too-skinny arms. Then there was the park he had picnicked at with Yoongi and Taehyung, then the upscale restaurant that just sold worse, criminally expensive versions of street food, then the street lined with lilac trees and the private gates he had passed so many times and the most welcoming door in the world and then his own hand as he lifted it to knock even though his brain wasn’t sure what he was doing, even though he wasn’t sure anyone would hear him, even though he couldn’t even hear himself—

As soon as Yoongi opened the door, Hoseok let himself fall.

Alpha, he thought as his eyes closed, his legs giving out. My alpha. Safe.

“Hoseok?” Yoongi asked, then yelled, “Hoseok! Hobi!”

He caught him, pulled him close, yelling something Hoseok didn’t quite catch over his shoulder, his full attention on Yoongi’s chest and Yoongi’s scent and Yoongi protecting him.

Yoongi would take care of him.

Hoseok could let go.

-

It was light outside when Hoseok came to. The morning sun streamed in through the den windows, just bright enough to make him wince—which made him wince even more because wincing stung, his was head pounding, his eyes ached, everything was sore, and why wasn’t he in bed—

Taehyung startled awake at Hoseok’s distressed whine and shot up quickly, putting a hand over Hoseok’s chest to keep him from doing the same. “Hey, it’s okay—”

“It’s not—” Hoseok gasped out, heart rate picking up as panic seeped into his bloodstream. “It’s not okay, I don’t—f*ck, Tae, I don’t—”

“It’s okay,” he said again, his hand hovering over Hoseok’s face as he tried to find a safe place to land, but there were very spots free from bruises. He settled on brushing his hair back, trying to keep up a soothing pace. “You’re here, you’re with us, you’re safe.”

“‘M’not—I shouldn’t—” Hoseok’s lungs burned as they struggled to work him through whatever attack he was having—panic, maybe, or anxiety or stress or all three all at once. “I have to go back, I have to—he’ll kill me if I don’t—”

“He’ll kill you if you do,” Taehyung protested quietly.

Hoseok whimpered and grabbed his hand, the beginnings of his argument dying when Namjoon interrupted. He hadn’t even noticed him in the room, but now that he looked—everyone was there, either still asleep or blinking at him with bleary eyes.

“Hoseok.”

He felt a new wave of panic at the alpha’s voice. Hoseok stared at him with wild eyes, weary and wary, but Namjoon kept his face neutral and his hands visible, his clean rainwater scent flowing through the room. He wasn’t using his Alpha Voice; though his voice was all alpha, exuding calm confidence that anyone would want to follow, it didn't have the commanding bite that alphas were capable of, one that made it nearly impossible for omegas to disobey, one that had been used on Hoseok way too many times before.

“Stay,” said Namjoon, quiet and even-tempered.

“Please,” whispered Yoongi from Hoseok's side.

“For now, at least,” Jin added after a long moment of silence. “Stay for now.”

“Okay,” Hoseok said, eyes locked on Yoongi’s, both of their faces managing to be vulnerable and completely unreadable at the same time. “Okay.”

Chapter 8

Chapter Text

Taehyung whined when he felt Hoseok get up from their makeshift nest in the spare bedroom, sleepily peeking at him with a pout. “Where’re you going?”

“Work,” Hoseok mumbled.

He’d been lucky that the whole mess had happened on the weekend; he had stumbled into the pack house early Saturday morning, unconscious through Jin carefully tending to the worst of his wounds, and was able to spend Sunday entirely in the bedroom that had been declared his and the nest that Taehyung and the betas quickly constructed. But it was Monday, and Monday meant work—he hadn’t missed a day at Kim-Min yet, even after rough nights with customers or blows from his father, and he wasn’t about to start now. He couldn’t afford to start now, especially after abandoning everything he had when he ran.

He had nothing to his name, and while he didn’t have much to his name to begin with, knowing he had nothing at all sat uncomfortably at the front of his mind.

Taehyung was staring incredulously when Hoseok finally looked at him. “You are not going to work, Hobi, what the f*ck.”

“I have to, Tae,” he sighed. “I can’t—I don’t have anything, any money, I can’t just—skip.”

“You have days off. Joonie-hyung said so. Even if he didn’t, you know he’d make it happen. Even thought you don’t need—”

“I do need,” Hoseok frowned a little, wincing when it pulled at his split lip. “I can’t afford to get a doctor’s note anyway.”

Taehyung huffed. “We would take care of it. I would take care of it. But also, I mean, Jin-hyung could just write you one, I know he kept some official notepads or whatever.”

Hoseok blinked. “What?”

“He used to be a doctor, so he could take care of it—”

“Used to be?” He couldn’t hold back his curiosity, even as he felt he shouldn’t pry into something Jin himself hadn’t told him.

Taehyung grinned. “Uh-huh. He was fired for not letting people pay for anything, it was really funny. It’s not even like he didn’t pay for them, management was just pissy.”

“That’s—” Hoseok blinked. “Huh. That’s nice, isn’t it?”

“It is. Jin-hyung is nice. Everyone is nice.” Something about Taehyung’s tone made him suspicious, and looking into his eager eyes confirmed it.

“You don’t have to convince me, Tae-yah, I already said I was staying.”

"‘For now,’ hyung, you said you’d stay ‘for now’ and I want you to stay forever—” he pouted, throwing himself onto the pillows dramatically. “I never want you to leave every again, Hobi.”

Hoseok sighed. “I can’t impose on everyone like that, baby.”

“Can so, considering it’s not an imposition at all. We all want you to stay forever. We always have, you’re part of our pack.” Taehyung meant it. He was so innocently sincere—even more than he had been when they were younger, somehow. That made it all the worse.

Hoseok froze, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to stave off the wave of conflicting emotions rolling throughout his body. “Don’t.”

Taehyung was taken aback. “What?”

“Don’t say that. That I’m—” his hand went to rub his eyes, a habit when he felt too overwhelmed,but he stopped himself before he could aggravate the dark bruises. “Don’t say that. Please. Sorry for snapping.”

Taehyung opened his mouth to argue but closed it at the warning glance shot his way. “Sorry. But you really can’t—work, hyung. You look—”

“I’ve covered up worse, Tae.” Hoseok sighed, but even he was shocked when he finally looked at himself in the mirror on the wall.

Hoseok looked—bad. More of his face was bruised than not. There was swelling along his jaw, but, he was grateful as he checked again with his tongue, no broken teeth. Though his left side was worse than the right, both eyes were blackened, both cheekbones purpling; there was even a carefully stitched line on one where the force of a punch had broken the skin badly enough to warrant it. There were distinct finger-shaped marks around his neck. He didn’t even remember that.

He didn’t want to think about how the rest of him looked, having managed to avoid seeing his body for the past few days.

“I can’t cover this up,” he said after a moment.

“No,” Taehyung agreed softly. “Stay home, hyung. Let us take care of you.”

“But you work, too, Tae, I can’t—”

“Not this week, I don’t. Neither does Jin. And Jiminie only has a few recording sessions and dance, so—” Taehyung lifted his chin stubbornly. “Get in bed. Let us take care of you.”

Hoseok stared at him for a long moment before swallowing, assenting with a small nod. Taehyung reached for him as he climbed back in and he allowed himself to be carefully maneuvered into the other omega’s arms, nosing against his neck to scent him. “I don’t deserve you.”

“f*ck off,” Taehyung said pleasantly, the lack of respect just making Hoseok huff a laugh against him. “You deserve the world and more, Hobi, and we’re gonna give it to you, so shut up and take it.”

Hoseok shook his head but was too drained to argue. Taehyung petted his hair for a few long moments before Hoseok sighed, rolling away from him, deciding to ask the question that had been burning in his mind since the night before. “Where is everyone?”

Taehyung blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean—” Yoongi. He meant Yoongi. “I haven’t seen anyone but you and Jimin and Jin-hyung. Did I—”

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Taehyung warned.

He turned it into a statement. “I made everyone uncomfortable.”

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have—I mean. I had—I shouldn’t have come so late, and I really—just forced Yoongi-hyung to take care of me, and I know I must have smelled horrible, I always do when I’m scared, and—”

“Hyung, what—no,” Taehyung said softly, looking at him with concern. “You didn’t make anyone uncomfortable. And you did what you should have done. I don’t want to think about you not coming to us. Everyone’s staying away.”

“Oh,” Hoseok closed his eyes, hoping that hid the hurt he couldn’t help but feel.

“No!” Taehyung rushed to correct. “No, no, I mean—because I told them to. I told them to stay away.”

Hoseok’s eyes flew open. “What?”

“You don’t need protective alphas coming in here and working you up."

“Taehyung—Tae, I know they wouldn’t hurt me, I don’t want to tell them what to do—”

“You’re not telling them anything. I am.” Taehyung sighed and rolled onto his side, putting an arm around Hoseok’s waist. “And I’m glad you know that they wouldn’t hurt you, but does your omega?”

“My—” Hoseok sighed. “I’m not—two separate parts, I know that they—”

“Listen,” he interrupted. “It’s different. I’ve been triggered before, by some alpha that looked like—you know, and I was mated to Jungkook and still felt like I was going to die when he came too close sometimes. This is beyond a trigger, hyung, this is—even if you trust him—all of them,” he corrected. “It’s different, and it can hurt, and I don’t want you to go through something that’s preventable.”

Hoseok stared at the ceiling for a long moment before turning to face him. He knew he hadn’t talked about it before. He knew it was a confession. But he had to say it. “I want to see him.”

Taehyung understood but smiled soft as he tucked a lock of Hoseok’s hair behind his ear. “I know. But trust me on this, okay? Just for another few days.”

A few days felt like ages, at this point, though he had gone much longer without seeing Yoongi. But still, he did trust Taehyung. “Kay.”

“Kay,” he smiled, coming closer to nuzzle their noses together. “I wanted to catch up on movies but hyung said he’s worried about a concussion so no screens.”

Realization slowly dawned in Hoseok’s eyes and he grabbed Taehyung’s hand in hopeful excitement. “Tae?”

“Hyung?”

“Does that mean I can sleep in?”

Taehyung laughed loud, hugging him close, careful to not aggravate the bruises on his chest. “How long has it been since you’ve been able to?”

“Like, two months. When I slept over that Saturday.” Hoseok was almost embarrassingly excited. “I really didn’t know how much I loved sleep til then, Tae-yah, it ruined me.”

With a giggle and a kiss to his collarbone, Taehyung settled down. “This is gonna ruin you even more, then. We’re not leaving this bed until we have to, and maybe not even then.”

Hoseok grinned but he was already sold, and, for that matter, was already floating off to sleep.

-

Taehyung stayed by Hoseok’s side almost constantly, to the point where Hoseok had to teasingly chase him away when he was taking a shower, promising he wasn’t going to drown if he was left on his own. The betas came and went; Jimin and Jin slept with them several days throughout the week, making sure the mini-nest was comfortable, scenting Hoseok the second he let them, becoming even more enthusiastic when he admitted that he loved it.

The alphas, however, all stayed away. Jin always smelled a little like Namjoon’s green tea and rainwater and Jimin always smelled a little like Jungkook’s vanilla and sandalwood (although Taehyung smelled almost purely like himself, all lavender and chamomile, away from his mates enough for their scents to fade—even when Hoseok tried to insist he sleep with them so he’d be more comfortable, only to be met with an affronted, stubborn look and arms locked around his waist).

But there was no one who smelled like Yoongi.

He did trust that Taehyung was right and being around any alphas had the potential to be triggering, but that didn’t mean he didn’t miss Yoongi. He hadn’t seen him in a week, longer than he had gone since they had met almost eight months ago. He hadn’t been able to thank him for—everything. For literally and metaphorically catching him at his most vulnerable. At the same time, Hoseok wasn’t sure he could face him for the exact same reasons. He couldn’t help but be embarrassed. It wasn’t Yoongi’s responsibility to take care of him, he wasn’t Hoseok’s alpha.

He wasn’t Hoseok’s alpha. No matter how much Hoseok wished he was. No matter how much he wanted it.

It wasn’t right. Hoseok was—not worthy of Min Yoongi.

He was an ugly, poor omega with nothing to his name. No skills, no money, not even a good personality, no matter how much he constantly tried to tamp it down, not wanting to be the too much he was always told to he was. And no one—especially Min Yoongi—wanted a whor*. He wasn’t the pure, virginal, sweet-scented omega all alphas wanted. He was woodsy and ruined—he’d been f*cked more times than he could count by more alphas than he could remember. He’d been knotted before, even. He hated it, he hadn’t wanted it, even though he'd said he did, wanting that extra few thousand won it would get him, but that didn’t change the fact that it had happened, and he would never have that first time that alphas wanted to claim.

Hoseok did what he had to do. He was a hard worker, he made as much money as he could, he fought and struggled his way through life—but there was shame there. There was no way there wouldn’t be. He did what he had to do. He just wished he’d had to do something different.

Taehyung was deep asleep. Hoseok was not. He had no idea what time it was, but he was pretty sure he had been staring at the ceiling for a solid hour. The other omega briefly stirred when Hoseok finally stood, quickly settling when Hoseok whispered he was just going to the bathroom. He did, just to stare at himself in the mirror. He was healing, but as they always did, bruises looked worse as they got better, and the purple faded into green and yellow was sickening.

He heaved a sigh and splashed water on himself before, for the first time since he arrived, he wandered downstairs to the main part of the house. He didn’t bother to turn on lights as he made his way out to the back patio, sitting cross legged on the grass and looking up, pretending he could see the stars through the Seoul smog.

It was a chilly spring night but the cool air was refreshing, especially after locking himself away for so long.

He didn’t need to look back when he heard the door open; gentle orange-bergamot wafted out, and Yoongi wrapped a blanket around his shoulders a moment later. He patted the ground beside him and Yoongi sat down, close enough for their legs to touch. Hoseok didn’t feel a rush of fear, or trepidation, or any triggered emotions at the alpha’s presence. They sat silently beside each other for a long while, looking up at the stars or watching Yoongi’s hands braid blades of grass together.

“We mean it,” Yoongi whispered, finally breaking the comfortable silence. He didn’t look at Hoseok, but he dropped the braided grass and reached over, taking Hoseok’s hand into his own.

Hoseok was sure his scent spiked, but he squeezed Yoongi’s hand so he knew to not let go. “Mean what, hyung?

“We want you to stay with us. We want you to be part of our pack,” he said, voice quiet but honest.

Hoseok wasn’t sure if Yoongi intended his scent to spike, to turn warm and comforting, but it made him swallow, close his eyes, boldly lean against his shoulder.

If he stayed, he’d leave behind everything that was familiar, everything that he knew. If he didn’t—

There was nothing. There’d never been anything for him.

He took a deep breath and felt the safety of the pack house, the comfort of kind Namjoon, caring Jin, warm Jimin, precious Jungkook, his sweet baby Taehyung, and—everything about Yoongi. It wasn’t a hard decision.

“Okay,” he whispered.

Yoongi put his arm around him, tucking him close. Hoseok leaned on him even more, turning his head to press his nose to the alpha’s shoulder, not quite scenting him, but not shying away. Yoongi pressed a kiss to his temple and Hoseok couldn’t help but to turn entirely, hugging him tight.

“Hyung—” he started, but Yoongi shushed him.

“Thank you."

Chapter 9

Chapter Text

Jin wasn’t speaking to him.

Granted, he had only been not speaking to him for a few hours, but it still made Hoseok watch him warily every time they crossed paths. But he couldn’t take it back. He refused to.

“I’m going to pay rent,” he had said, his chin tilted up and a stubborn frown on his lips.

Jin had just laughed loudly and slapped his own knee, not even bothering to respond.

“I’m serious!” Hoseok huffed. “I’m not staying here for free.”

“Why not? All of us are.”

Hoseok groaned a little, closing his eyes in frustration. “Because I’m not one of you, hyung.”

When Hoseok opened his eyes after a long, tense moment. Jin was just staring at him with perplexing almost-anger. After another moment, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Hoseok confused and alone. It was Friday afternoon and everyone but Jimin and Namjoon were home, meaning that they ran into each other frequently. Each glare Seokjin sent his way made him want to hide, but he had said what he said, had meant what he said, and knew he shouldn’t back down—even when his heart squeezed painfully, desperate for the beta’s forgiveness.

Jin was the one to break first. He cornered him in the hall with a stern frown, hands firm on Hoseok’s shoulders. “You are one of us, Hoseok-ah. Please don’t think otherwise.”

There was such serious sincerity in Jin’s voice that he could only nod weakly, swallowing when Jin cupped his cheek before pulling him into a warm hug.

“Thank you,” he whispered after a moment.

“Hush, silly boy,” Jin said, pressing a kiss to his temple and politely ignoring the tears in his eyes. “You’re pack. You’re ours.”

Hoseok hummed at the odd look Jin gave him when he finally pulled back.

“Are you feeling alright? You’re a little warm.”

Hoseok blinked, touching his forehead with the back of his hand. He was warmer than usual, and he had been a little dizzy all day. He used to get light-headed all the time, though—but that was from hunger, and he was never hungry now. And he kept forgetting what he was doing, standing in the middle of the kitchen for a solid minute until he remembered he was thirsty, or zoning out while watching TV until something startled him out of it. That wasn’t—normal.

“I mean, I feel a little weird, but not—”

They met each others’ eyes with simultaneous realization.

“No,” Hoseok said, like Jin could do anything to stop it. But maybe he could, he had been a doctor, technically still was, maybe he knew how to fix it. “I can’t. Hyung, I can’t, I f*cking—I left my meds at home, I can’t believe I didn’t realize, I can’t—”

Jin clicked his tongue, feeling Hoseok's flushed cheeks and gently examining his scent glands. “There are a few ways to stop it but they’re unhealthy. How long have you been on suppressants?”

“Since I was nineteen.” Hoseok flinched at Jin’s shocked look. “I know, I know, but—”

“Six years? You haven’t had a heat in six years, Hoseok?” Jin sounded legitimately angry, and Hoseok was extremely thankful they knew each other well enough that he could hear it for the concern it actually was.

“I know, but—”

“Stop. Stop, one full year is bad, Hoseok. Going three is actively dangerous. Going six? That’s unheard of. I can’t believe—” Jin’s voice was shaky and Hoseok swallowed his guilt down.

“I can’t do it, hyung, not now. I can’t have my heat now, please— please fix it,” he begged, gripping the front of his shirt.

Jin pried his hands off to hold them in his own, looking at him with such pity and resolution that horrified tears welled up in Hoseok’s eyes. “No, Seok-ah. I’m sorry.”

“But I can’t—” he sobbed out.

“You have to,” Jin said quietly, squeezing his hands. “I’m sorry, baby. I’ll give you something to help stave off the worst of it but—you can’t go any longer without a heat, I can’t believe you haven’t—” Jin sighed shakily. Hoseok had deliberately not read the effects of taking suppressants for so long, but Jin was a doctor, and Jin had to know. “It’s so—so dangerous, Seok-ah.”

Hoseok knew that much. Hoseok also knew what the clinic doctor had told him after—

He wasn’t as bothered as an omega should be about it, but still. It had hurt. It still hurt. A vague ache in the back of his brain. But Jin didn’t need to know about that yet.

Jin ran his fingers through Hoseok’s hair, a caring touch that made Hoseok let out another quiet sob.

“I’m scared,” he admitted.

“I know, sweet boy,” Jin sighed, pulling him into another warm hug, swaying a little. “We’re here for you, okay? I know it’s scary, I know you don’t want to, but—we’re here.”

-

Hoseok was mostly silent as they sat in his room with Jimin and Taehyung, wrapped up in a blanket as they discussed his options. No one dared to bring up the idea of an alpha helping him, although they all knew having an alpha partner made omega heats infinitelymore bearable.

Hoseok was grateful for their sensitivity, but he had to make it clear; dancing around the subject was useless. “No alphas,” he said, staring blankly at the wall just as he had been doing for the past hour. “I don’t want them to see me like that.”

He’d never been with an alpha during heat, even before he went on suppressants. He had just barricaded himself in his room as a teenager, muffling his cries and desperation into his pillow and taking care of himself as much as he could. He didn’t even like to—it was never pleasurable (and neither was non-heat sex, he’d found, more often than not), but it was something he had to do to get through it.

The thought of even being around an alpha when he was in heat made him nauseous. The thought of the pack alphas—of Namjoon, of Jungkook, of Yoongi— seeing him like that was too much to bear.

“No alphas,” he repeated.

“No alphas,” Jimin agreed, putting a hand on his knee. “Do you want us to help you, hyung?”

Hoseok was quiet for a long moment as he thought, and was embarrassed when he started to tear up again. He was scared. He was scared. He couldn’t do it alone. He glanced at Taehyung and just the sight of the other omega was enough to make his lip wobble. “Will you stay with me?”

Taehyung cooed, hurrying to crawl to him and encompass him in a hug. “Of course I will, Hobi—”

Hoseok nodded in thanks, hugging him closer and trying to keep from crying. He’d cried too much already.

“And we’ll bring you food and everything, of course,” Jin said, his voice beta-warm and reassuring. “You’ll be okay, sweetheart. I promise.”

Hoseok nodded again, though he still wasn’t convinced. He doubted he’d be convinced even if he was okay after it all. “If—if I ask—?” he started, but couldn’t make the full question come out. “Just Tae-yah, if—?”

Taehyung, Hoseok'sangel, understood. “If you ask me to help you through it, I will.”

“Thank you,” he breathed out, relieved. “I’ll try to not ask, I just—”

“You don’t have to hold back, hyung. I’d do anything for you, it’s not a hardship. You helped me through the first heat I had after I presented, remember?”

“You don’t have to—pay me back for that, baby,” Hoseok sighed, pulling back to look him in the eye. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I know,” Taehyung leaned forward to kiss the tip of his nose, just to make him smile. He grinned when Hoseok’s lips quirked up, taking the bait. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to help. And only if you ask, okay? I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you.”

Hoseok laughed—it was a relief to hear the sound, even if it was watery. “Since when are you all hyung-like, huh? What happened to my wild little dongsaeng?”

Taehyung gave him a soft, honest smile. “You know what happened.”

Hoseok knew.

He trusted Taehyung with his life. Taehyung trusted the pack with his.

Hoseok was almost there with him.

Chapter 10

Chapter Text

Hoseok’s heat was as terrible as he imagined it would be.

Even with the medications that dulled the worst of the pain, the five day long, bone-deep, full-body ache was one of the most unpleasant things Hoseok had ever experienced—and, to be frank, he had quite a few unpleasant experiences to compare it to. It was difficult to sleep, to drink, to eat, to speak, to do anything that wasn’t oscillating between feeling trapped in the everpresent pain, ignoring the tears that never seemed to stop trailing down his cheeks, and gripping the sheets as slick poured from him, trying to not beg someone to please, please make it go away.

But as soon as he did beg, Taehyung was there. Taehyung—his angel, his savior, his baby, although he did his best to ignore the last—was always there. He threaded his fingers through Hoseok’s sweaty hair and gently wiped his eyes, holding him close to his chest. Jin and Jimin came and went, taking care of him like the most perfect betas in the world, cuddling with him, feeding him, wiping him down with cool cloths when he was too weak to make it to the bath.

Although the burning desire to be filled was constant, the fire in his belly was, thankfully, often sated by their touch. He had gone so long without kindness that, even after months of being around Namjoon’s pack, he was starved for it more than he was starved for a knot.

“Please,” he whimpered at Taehyung more than once, his eyes exhausted but dark, body shaking with need, and Taehyung would take him into his arms and whisper sweet nothings into his ear, and the feeling of skin to skin—even if he felt disgusting to himself and was sure Taehyung must feel the same—settled the hungry omega. It allowed him, at the very least, to sleep restlessly against his chest, his pathetic whines falling quiet enough for Taehyung to do the same.

But it wasn’t enough. Of course it wasn’t. Hoseok could never be so lucky.

The alphas had been practically expelled from their own home and he couldn’t even bring himself to feel guilty about it, knowing that their presence would either throw him into fits of desire or terror, or something that settled into a horrible in-between. He knew that they were there, though—sometimes he caught Namjoon’s scent lingering on Jin’s clothes or heard Jungkook yell at a game downstairs, but he never sensed Yoongi’s presence. And yet—

“Please—alpha, need—I need,” he begged, gripping Taehyung’s arm and looking at him with wild eyes.

“I know,” Taehyung said, with sad empathy in his voice. He pressed a kiss to Hoseok’s forehead, not even minding how tight Hoseok’s hold was. “I know, Hobi. Will you let me help?”

“Alpha,” Hoseok pled again, but he was so grateful that Taehyung was there instead. He’d have to thank him for his magic hands one day, when the sheer embarrassment of having needed them faded away. He was careful and attentive and knew exactly what he needed. He was omega himself and besides that, he knew Hoseok.

He even kissed him. Hoseok couldn’t remember the last time he had been kissed and wanted it. He would have worried that his mates would be furious, but Jimin had been right there the first time, cuddling up to Hoseok’s other side as Taehyung pressed sweet kisses over his face, ending on his lips. Even more sweetly, he pretended he didn’t notice the resulting fresh tears that Hoseok tried to hide.

Jin and Jimin gave them privacy when Hoseok started to beg for more than skinship. In any other situation, Hoseok would be humiliated by the way Taehyung pulled out a heat aid with a grin and flourish, but as it was, he just looked at him with palpable relief.

“I love you,” he breathed, reaching for it. “Please.”

Taehyung laughed and snuggled up to him, f*cking him with it when he got too shaky and wet to keep up a satisfying pace on his own. He acted like it was normal, like helping his hyung through his heat was an everyday occurrence. He let Hoseok drive himself over edge as many times as he wanted, gushing more slick every time he came, until his legs started to shake uncontrollably. He did force him to take breaks, holding fruit to his lips until Hoseok whined for him to stop.

It was horrible, it was painful, but it was fine.

Until orange-bergamot wafted through the door as Yoongi—kind, gracious, caring Yoongi—left a tray of heavier, more carb-heavy foods outside of the door on the fourth day of his heat. It was winding down, at that point. The second and third days had been hell on earth and Hoseok barely remembered anything from them, too caught in the haze of encompassing fire and burning want. By the fourth, he was more present; he was able to bathe himself in the ensuite bathroom (with Taehyung’s supervision), he was (sometimes) sated without the knot of the toy, he had stopped pleading for it all to stop (though, of course, he wouldn’t have preferred that it did).

And then he smelled Yoongi.

“Alpha!” he yelled. He knew he was yelling, he knew he was begging, and he knew he couldn’t stop himself. “Please—please, please, f*ck me, alpha, please—”

Taehyung burst out of the bathroom just in time to pin Hoseok to the bed, keeping him from leaping up to chase after Yoongi. Hoseok was attuned to the alpha enough by this point that he could tell when Yoongi paused, scent strong, but then he retreated, he left, he didn’t answer him, he didn’t come—

“Please!” he screamed, and it came out in a pained sob. “Alpha, no, please, please—”

“Hobi—hyung, no—” Taehyung tried to hush, even as he kept a strong hold on his waist, pinning both of Hoseok’s legs with his own. “Hush, hyung, hey—”

“Alpha,” he sobbed. “Yoongi.”

He cried into Taehyung’s chest, feeling heartbroken. The logical part of his mind said it was a good thing that Yoongi didn’t come when he called, didn’t give in and f*ck him, didn’t break him like Hoseok thought anyone would. But the logical part of his mind was pushed to the very back by his heat. Right then, he was nothing but omega, he thought of nothing but the need for his alpha—and his alpha had rejected him.

-

“Did he hear?” he asked Jimin at the end of the fifth day, curled up between Jin’s legs as he brushed Hoseok’s hair. Taehyung snored quietly as he rested on Hoseok’s thigh on one side, with Jimin reaching over to trace comforting patterns on his mate’s face from his other.

Jimin didn’t need him to clarify. “Yeah,” he said, though the look on his face was the only answer Hoseok needed.

Hoseok closed his eyes and leaned back on Jin’s chest, his heart squeezing through the sadness when Jin wrapped his arms around him and pressed a loving kiss to his forehead. “Think I can pretend he didn’t?”

“You can,” Jimin hummed, holding his hand and lacing their fingers together. “And if you do, he’ll go along with it. But—” he smiled when Hoseok aimed a pout at him. “But I don’t think it’s good to dance around it, hyung.”

“Dance around what?” Hoseok mumbled. “Nothing to dance around.”

Jin snorted above him, nosing the crown of his head. “We’re your friends, Seokie. We’re not going to dance around it.”

The warmth that came from hearing friends attached to him was overpowered by his stressed whine. “I don’t wanna ruin it. I really—it’s so—he’s so good.”

“You’re good, too, hyung,” Jimin said quietly, squeezing his hand. “You wouldn’t ruin anything.”

Hoseok sighed and closed his eyes again, trying to distract himself by focusing on the feeling of Jimin’s hand in his, Taehyung’s gentle breaths on his thigh, Jin’s hands spread flat over his stomach—but he couldn’t tune out the everpresent mantra of ‘not good enough, not good enough, not good enough.’

-

Hoseok’s heat was officially over the next morning. He was sore and exhausted, but he was finally free of the cold chills and uncontrollable waves of slick and want. It was even Sunday, so he didn’t have to worry about convincing Seokjin to let him go to work. But that also meant that it was Sunday, and everyone was home.

He had managed to avoid Yoongi so successfully that he suspected the alpha was avoiding him, too. Their luck ran out at dinner when Seokjin threatened to bodily drag everyone to the table if they didn’t join of their own volition, and they all knew it wasn’t an empty threat. Hoseok took his usual seat between Jungkook and Jimin, and Yoongi took his usual seat across from Hoseok. They didn’t look at each other, though Hoseok thought he felt Yoongi’s eyes on him a few times. He kept his own stubbornly on his plate, trying to hold his breath as much as he could with Yoongi’s scent flooding his senses.

He put it off as long as he could—helping Jin clear the table, keeping Taehyung company as he thought about dyeing his hair, watching a few episodes of the historical drama he and Namjoon had been into lately—but he couldn’t hesitate any longer. He snuck off in the middle of an episode, going up the stairs and knocking quietly on Yoongi’s door before he could talk himself out of it. He didn’t even have time to pretend that maybe Yoongi wasn’t there and maybe he could just leave undetected and maybe he could keep pretending, because the door opened barely a moment later.

Yoongi stared at him, and Hoseok stared back.

“Hi,” he said eventually, clearing his throat. He knew his posture was—defensive. He was hunched in on himself, arms crossed over his chest, gaze cast down. But even if Yoongi wasn’t an alpha, Hoseok felt he had plenty to be on guard about. “Can we talk?”

Yoongi stepped aside to invite him in, leaving the door wide open. Making sure Hoseok knew he could escape. Yoongi sat at the chair he had obviously just vacated, with his bulky professional headphones on the desk and programs that were way too technical for Hoseok to understand pulled up on his desktop, so he perched on the edge of Yoongi’s bed.

He hadn’t been in Yoongi’s room before, he realized. He’d never had a reason to, even when they started to hang out in common spaces. It was—nice. As dark as Hoseok thought it would be, if he was honest. Charcoal grays with pops of color, blackout curtains over the windows, a plush rug under his bare feet. Yoongi wasn’t a dark person by any means, at least from Hoseok’s perspective, but it was fitting.

The silence lingered a little too long, verging on awkward, before Yoongi cleared his throat. “Hoseok-ah?”

“Yoongi—” Hoseok breathed out shakily, tried and failed to force himself to meet Yoongi’s eyes. “Hyung, I—I wanted to thank you.”

Hoseok was able to force himself to look up after another beat of silence, just in time to see Yoongi blink a few times, confused. “What?”

“I—” Hoseok swallowed and scratched his neck before tugging on his earlobe, a nervous habit that provided him at least a little comfort. “Thank you Thank you for—not—doing anything.”

“Seok?”

“Not that I thought you would!” he amended quickly, looking into Yoongi’s dark eyes. “I just—a lot—a lot of alphas would have. A lot of alphas would have—I was—I was asking for you, I know you heard, I know you know, it was—I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did, I think, but—I don’t know. I’m so—” he swallowed and ignored the tears burning in his eyes. “You’re so good, Yoongi-hyung. No one has ever been as kind to me as you are. No—no alpha, at least.” He paused, blinked. “Don’t tell Namjoon.”

That got a soft laugh from Yoongi, and Hoseok couldn’t help but revel in the sound. “Hoseok—” he glanced at him and fell quiet. There was something unreadable in his eyes, something that made Hoseok want to simultaneously look away forever and never look away again. He could practically see thoughts racing through Yoongi’s mind, but he could never guess what they were. “Do you want to listen to the beat I’m working on? I could use fresh ears.”

Hoseok would definitely not have guessed that. “Oh. I—I don’t know that I’d be any help, hyung.”

Yoongi shrugged a little. There was a rosy pink blush dusting his cheeks, one that made Hoseok furrow his eyebrows, wondering what put it there. “Still. I’d—like you to listen. If you’re willing.”

Hoseok nodded after a moment and Yoongi unplugged his headphones, adjusting the volume. He glanced between the door and Hoseok before deciding to get up and close it. Hoseok wasn’t understating it when he said he wouldn’t be any help; he had an untrained ear that was only familiar with whatever Jungkook was into at the moment, definitely not the music Yoongi tended to work on. But it was good. He could recognize that much.

He listened to Yoongi make minor adjustments for a while before giving in and laying down on Yoongi’s bed, curled into himself at the end, trying to not disturb his space. He felt warmer than he ever had—a warmth that was so much different from burning heats or the summer sun, but one settled within him like it was supposed to be there. Between the warmth in his chest, the familiar scent, the comforting clacking of the keyboard, the rhythmic melodies playing from the speakers—Hoseok fell asleep, more soundly than he had all week, feeling safe in the alpha’s presence.

His alpha, his mind added. Hoseok wasn’t awake enough to acknowledge it.

-

Hoseok blinked awake slowly, too comfortable to rush even though it was Monday and he needed to get to work. His alarm hadn’t gone off yet, and even if one of the betas had tried sabotage to get him to take another day off, there was early morning sunlight streaming through the open curtains. He had time to laze around. (That was still a novel concept. Having time.)

He stretched as he did every morning, pushing his limbs as far as they would go until they cracked pleasantly, but he blinked when his hands didn’t touch his headboard. Instead, they touched nothing, meeting empty air. Why was he laying sideways? Why were his sheets dark? Why did it smell like—

Hoseok shot up, eyes wide. He was in Yoongi’s room. He was in Yoongi’s room, and Yoongi wasn’t there. He was in an alpha’s room, in an alpha’s bed, and the alpha had left him alone—but a warm blanket had been carefully thrown over him, a pillow placed under his head, another in his arms because he liked to cuddle something whenever he could, and his phone was plugged into the nearest outlet.

The clock on Yoongi’s desk read 7:14. Hoseok’s alarm went off one minute later.

He felt timid as he walked down the hall to his own room, hoping no one would catch him. There wasn’t anything to catch,really, but it was still—suspect, he supposed, leaving an alpha’s room. They hadn’t done anything, that much was obvious to anyone who even glanced his way, but that somehow made him even more self-conscious, even more wary of being caught, even more protective of—whatever it was.

He sang in the shower as he always did, got dressed as he always did, went down to the kitchen as he always did, smiled at Yoongi as he always did.

Yoongi was still sleep-rumpled, with marks from the couch cushions on his cheek. His hair was fluffy, his mouth was pouty, and his eyes were more beautiful than any that Hoseok had ever seen.

“Morning,” he said quietly, taking his seat as Jin tried to wrangle Jungkook’s hair into submission, Taehyung dished breakfast onto Jimin’s plate, and Namjoon yawned into his coffee.

“Morning,” Yoongi said, even quieter. He smiled at him, soft and private.

It felt like something.

Hoseok hoped it was.

Chapter 11

Chapter Text

Going through his first heat in six years broke Hoseok—but not in the way he expected.

He was almost always his full self when he was alone with Taehyung, that was no different. But after the incredible care Jin and Jimin had shown him, and the respectful restraint of Namjoon and Jungkook, and everything, everything about Yoongi, Hoseok’s mind had just—relaxed. He hadn’t realized how much of himself he had muted, how much of himself he made sure to soften, to tamp down. As soon as he let go of some of the inhibitions he had bound himself with for so long, everything changed.

His smiles came easier, brighter, more joyful. He hadn’t even realized he could feel more joy than he did just being around the pack. He took up space, sleeping spread out on his own bed and stretching tall in the kitchen and sitting with his legs wide open just because he could. He made noise, he hummed and sang and made stupid sound effects that no one smacked him for.

He laughed more often, louder than he ever had, receiving only happy grins in return instead of chastisem*nt. And it was—full-bodied. The first time he threw himself into Namjoon’s shoulder as Jungkook recounted a pompous art critic he ran into, he froze, and Namjoon froze, and Jungkook froze—and then the world kept turning, but with Namjoon’s arm around his shoulders, ruffling his hair when he laughed the same way again not two minutes later.

Even though he had started to get used to the casual touches the pack constantly doled out, he wasn’t used to initiating something more. But Jin pulled him close during movie nights, looping his arms around his waist, both of them hiding in each other’s necks at jumpscares. Jungkook held his hand, lacing their fingers together as they walked to the corner store when they just had to move. Taehyung came close to physically dragging someone off Hoseok’s lap when he wanted to take their place, only appeased when Hoseok maneuvered everything around so he was able to tuck him under his arm. Jimin was usually the one on his lap that Taehyung threatened to drag off, as they scrolled lazily through their phones, showing each other the occasional post or picture. Namjoon massaged his shoulders after a long day, and Hoseok had to argue to let him return the favor, and he never hesitated touching the alpha like he had done so often before.

And Yoongi—

Yoongi smiled at him, wide and gummy, the cutest thing Hoseok had ever seen in his life. Hoseok texted him blurry pictures of dogs he had frantically snapped, and Yoongi responded with typed out emotes which were somehow so much more endearing than emojis.

He opened his door for Hoseok when he knocked quietly on nights he couldn’t sleep, let him lay on his bed, sometimes listening to his work, sometimes just enjoying Yoongi’s presence when he had headphones on. Hoseok delivered fruit to him sometimes, lovingly peeled and sliced, and Yoongi thanked him by gently squeezing his wrist, making Hoseok’s stomach swoop.

Yoongi rubbed the back of his neck, just barely brushing over the scent glands under his jaw, when they were standing in line at a bistro, when they were sitting beside each other, when they were waiting for the kettle to boil. Hoseok found himself doing the same, not noticing what he was doing until Yoongi froze, looking at him with wide, shocked eyes, but stepping closer to tell him to keep going without having to say it out loud.

They gravitated towards each other, it seemed, circling in orbit whenever they were in the same place. At home, during the occasional pack daytrip, during breaks at lunch—often enough that it was natural and neither of them seemed to notice, even when Hoseok’s coworkers and the other members of the pack shot them curious, pointed glances.

All of them—Yoongi, Namjoon and Jin, Jimin and Taehyung and Jungkook—made him feel like he was valued. He was wanted. He wasn’t a disposable background character of their lives, waiting to be thrown out the second he became less interesting or they found a prettier whor* to spoil. He stopped waiting for the dream to end. He didn’t stop treasuring each smile, each hug, each touch he was given, but he stopped thinking that they would eventually be nothing but memories he’d have to cling to to survive.

-

Taehyung’s heat hit just over a month after Hoseok’s.

Even though his own experience with heat had been tolerable, Hoseok still found himself worried about his favorite little pup, the innocent omega he had protected as much as he could, the sweet boy who now spent hours with him doing nothing instead of working on the street. His mates were wonderful, of course—Jimin and Jungkook were perfect for Taehyung. The three of them balanced each other out wonderfully, and it was always so obvious that they knew each other as well as they knew themselves. But Jungkook—

Jungkook was an alpha.

Jungkook was an alpha Hoseok trusted, sure, one that didn’t think alphas should own the world, one that didn’t rage when things didn’t go exactly how he wanted them to, one that looked out for the rest of the pack with the same ferocity as he did his mates. But he was an alpha, and alphas were dangerous. Trusting them did nothing but hurt in the long run.

The vast majority of omegas were incredibly vulnerable when they were in heat. They relied completely on others, unless they were in dire enough straits to be alone (as Hoseok had always been before now), they were locked into a mindset where all they wanted was someone to f*ck them, to be used like a toy, they weren’t in any state where they could reject advances that they absolutely would have stopped if they were in their right minds.

Alphas were territorial by nature, and Taehyung was effectively Jungkook’s territory. His property. His omega. Jungkook was a sweetheart who loved cuddles and running and pulling one or both of his mates onto his lap, but heats changed things for alphas even more than their own ruts. If Jungkook hurt Taehyung—Hoseok wasn’t sure what he would do. What he could do. All he could do was hope that he wouldn’t dare.

Taehyung had absolutely no hangups about his heat, that much was clear. He had been bouncing around the house to refine his personal nest in their bedroom since he recognized the signs of pre-heat. Hoseok had seen him squirrel away an entire bag of clementines in his room, reach thoughtfully into his pants to see how much he was slicking up, and shove a protein shake into Jungkook’s hand with a wink and a “You’ll need the energy, babe,” all within the span of an hour.

When his heat hit in earnest, he had already dragged Jimin and Jungkook bodily away and Hoseok was left alone, trying desperately to not hear the three moaning loudly a few doors down the hall. He eventually put earphones on, nice noise-cancelling ones that Yoongi had given him the week prior, playing music loudly enough to block them out. He did occasionally check that he didn’t hear any sign of wrongness, though. Taehyung’s confidence that it would be a good heat for him didn’t translate onto Hoseok’s known reality.

He saw Jimin a few times, when the beta emerged for refreshments or a break, his hair mussed and face relaxed, pleased. Jungkook stayed with Taehyung, for the most part, and Hoseok wasn’t surprised. Hoseok was surprised when Jimin knocked on his open door with a sleepy grin.

“Taehyungie says he’ll cry if you don’t come cuddle him.”

Hoseok blinked, glancing at the date on his phone like he somehow missed a few days. Taehyung hadn’t barely been in heat for forty-eight hours and he’d said his always lasted five days. Requesting that someone who wasn’t a mate join his nest was—odd, especially so early on.

“You know he will, hyung,” Jimin smiled, waiting until Hoseok nodded and stood before going back down the hall, opening their door. It was pungent, not necessarily in a bad way, but in a distinctly sex way. The windows were open to let the worst of it out, but between the smell and the dim lights and the decadent way Taehyung was draped over Jungkook’s lap, it was strangely haremesque. Though Jungkook had gotten at least semi-dressed, Taehyung had a dramatic silk robe that only added to the vision.

(He suspected it wasn’t as far from the truth as he would have liked. “Have you ever roleplayed in bed?” Taehyung had asked him once, a coy look on his face like he was sharing a scandalous secret.

“Have I—” Hoseok blinked. “Tae-yah, I was a prostitute, yes, I’ve roleplayed in bed.”

Taehyung hummed. “It’s fun. I’m thinking about becoming an actor.”)

Taehyung made grabby hands as soon as he saw Hoseok, still looking f*cked out. Hoseok really hoped he wouldn’t find out how little time had passed since their last round. He glanced at Jungkook before taking a single step closer, not wanting to encroach on dangerous territory, but the alpha only grinned and waved before running his fingers through Taehyung’s hair again.

“I missed you,” Taehyung pouted, tugging Hoseok onto the bed when he was within grabbing distance. Jungkook still didn’t make a move to fight, and Taehyung didn’t look threatened by another omega in his space.

“I haven’t seen you in a day, Taehyungie,” Hoseok said fondly, letting Taehyung cuddle into his chest with an almost aggressive vigor. “And we’ve been in the same house.”

“S’mantics,” Taehyung mumbled as he rubbed his nose against Hoseok’s shirt. “Night.”

Hoseok laughed, giving in and hugging him close, even though it pulled Taehyung off his alpha’s lap. “You called me in here to sleep?”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Hush time.”

He glanced up and Jungkook looked—incredibly fond. Like there was nothing in this world more precious than the sweet thing Hoseok held in his arms. He was right. Jungkook held up a finger and, sure enough, Taehyung’s breaths evened out as he fell asleep not a minute later.

“Hi, hyung,” Jungkook whispered, giving him a happy bunny grin, like having someone else holding what was rightfully his was a widely accepted occurrence.

“Hi, Jungkookie,” Hoseok whispered back. “Treating him well?”

Jimin snorted as he climbed in beside Hoseok, spooning comfortably around his back. “I’d say so, yeah.”

Jungkook just let out a pleased giggle, grinning even wider, proud of himself. Proud that he was taking care of his omega. “Thanks for coming in here,” he said, spooning around Taehyung’s back, the bed somehow still comfortable even when it was split between four people. “I was in him and he was all ‘I miss Hobi-hyung,’ it was stressful.”

Hoseok went red, biting his cheeks hard in an effort to not laugh and wake Taehyung. “He’s a card.”

Jimin hummed in agreement.

“It doesn’t—bother you that I’m here?” he asked after a moment, the question aimed at Jungkook.

The alpha just shrugged. “Course not. You’re pack, and our hyung, and we love you a lot—nothing weird.”

Hoseok snorted. Nothing weird. Just as they’d said the first time they met. Hoseok let out a long breath as he thought it over, deciding to do what his gut was telling him to do: take it at face value.

“Okay. Thank you for taking care of him, Kook-ah. And Jimin, obviously, but—”

Jungkook shook his head, reaching over Taehyung to put his hand on Hoseok’s waist, warm and kind. “You took care of him for us back then, so. It’s our turn. We owe it to you to do a good job.”

Hoseok blinked, swallowed, looked away. “He deserves you both, so much.”

“We don’t deserve him,” Jungkook said quietly.

“I do, speak for yourself,” Jimin grumbled against Hoseok’s back.

Hoseok grinned, sharing a look with Jungkook. Neither of them disagreed.

“Seriously, though,” Jimin continued. “Tae-yah’s insatiable, can we sleep while we can?”

Waking up an hour later with his baby shoving him away and saying “Jungkookie, take out that alpha co*ck” was not necessarily pleasant, but it did make Hoseok laugh loud enough that Jin poked his head out of his bedroom to squint at him suspiciously. Hoseok waved him off, still grinning and shaking his head. Maybe Taehyung was right to enjoy his heat after all.

-

Hoseok’s allergies stirred up in September as the season began to shift into fall, leaving him a miserable, sniffling mess. He made a nest within their nest, pouting at the television Jin had plopped him in front of with strict instructions to “Rest, Hoseok, I don’t care if you don’t want to sleep—”

Yoongi passed through and frowned as he saw Hoseok shiver once, staring at him for a moment while Hoseok stared back, before finding the blanket he knew was Hoseok’s favorite and tucking it around him, covering him up to his neck, concerned face so close to Hoseok’s own. He stood straight when he was content with his work, gave Hoseok a confusing pat on his head, and walked off.

“Thank you!” Hoseok called belatedly a moment later, even though he knew Yoongi was too far to hear by now.

When Yoongi fell into the same miserable fit a few days later, Hoseok took it on himself to spoonfeed him soup, ignoring his arguments that “I don’t have the flu, Seok,” insisting that he might get even shorter if he didn’t eat enough.

Namjoon had frozen in the doorway when he heard that, looking between the two of them cautiously, like he Hoseok was standing in front of an active volcano. But Yoongi did not erupt. He huffed, rolled his eyes, and opened his mouth when Hoseok held the spoon to his lips.

-

“Seok-ah,” Yoongi said during Namjoon and Jungkook’s joint birthday gathering, holding up a chocolate covered strawberry to Hoseok’s lips. He’d claimed one as soon as Seokjin started to break out the desserts, going through the almost-crowded house to find him.

Hoseok gasped happily and took a big bite, covering his mouth because he couldn’t keep from smiling even as he ate. “Thanks, hyung.”

Yoongi nodded and sat beside him on the arm of the sofa, resting his arm casually over his shoulders as Hoseok resumed telling some of the crowd whatever story he had been in the middle of.

-

“Please?” Hoseok said with a dramatic pout, knee deep in the Yellow Sea of Busan. It was early October, and the sea was absolutely freezing, but it had been too beautiful to resist.

Yoongi scowled from the shore where the waves barely even touched his toes. “I hate water.”

“Ah, the ocean is barely water, hyung—”

“That makes no sense, Hoseokie, what?”

“Please?” Hoseok said again.

Yoongi sighed, and waded in to join him.

‘What the f*ck?’ Jimin mouthed to Jungkook from behind them. Jungkook shrugged, wide-eyed and just as perplexed.

-

Yoongi visited him in the analysis department office on occasion, to fetch him for lunch or ask if he wanted to drive home or to drop off a cutesy notepad he had seen, or to deliver a surprise treat.

“Yoongichi,” Hoseok teased as a thank-you, sending him a delighted smile and taking a sip of the sweet, fruity drink he had put on his desk. Yoongi smiled back, just enough to be visible, and walked away without a word.

“How long have you been courting?” asked Hoseok’s favorite coworker, a sweet beta who laughed when he called her noona-nim and whispered gossip in his ear as soon as she heard it.

Hoseok short-circuited.

“I’m—what? We’re not—he’s not—we’re not courting, what, no—” he said after a long moment of silence, blinking quickly as he tried to process the question.

“Hm,” she said, raising her brows and turning back to her computer, typing pointedly loudly.

“We’re not—he, no,” Hoseok laughed. “No. No?”

“Hm,” she said again, taking a sip from her mug that Hoseok was pretty sure had been empty for an hour now.

“No. He’s not—me? Me? No. Him? No. No, no—”

Noona-nim didn’t bother humming that time, leaving him to stew in his frantic half-thoughts. Hoseok’s heart pounded madly in his chest, all sounds faded as the rushing current in his ears drowned them out, he would be surprised if his scent didn’t spike in distress. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, Yoongi’s treat forgotten in his hand, eyes unfocused as he stared at nothing.

“Oh my God,” he finally whispered, coming back into his body all at once.

“Mhm,” Noona-nim agreed.

Oh.

Chapter 12

Chapter Text

Yoongi put a hand on the small of Hoseok’s back as they walked out the door.

It wasn’t unusual for Yoongi to touch him like that. It was practically habit. Part of the routine.

He’d been driving them to work lately, leaving earlier than Namjoon so Hoseok would arrive on time. Yoongi didn’t have a set schedule, and he insisted he worked well in the morning, but Hoseok had seen him stare at a monitor for hours and hours deep into the night. He’d also seen Yoongi’s half-hidden yawns that came every other minute on the way there.

How long have you been courting? he thought, the shape of his hand burning pleasantly, even through Hoseok’s shirt.

-

Yoongi knocked on the frame of Hoseok’s open bedroom door, making the omega yelp loudly, falling from his precarious upside-down position on the bed to the floor. The burning candle(soft blanket scented, whatever that meant. A gift from Yoongi.) had masked the orange-bergamot that preceded Yoongi’s arrival.

Hoseok frowned at Yoongi’s poorly-disguised laugh, pointing an accusatory finger. “I get it now, you’re trying to kill me.”

“Maybe I am,” Yoongi agreed. “Careful, the hot chocolate might be poisoned.”

“Hot chocolate?” Hoseok perked up, reaching for the mug Yoongi offered. “How’d you know I wanted some?”

“I guessed,” Yoongi shrugged. “And it’s Tuesday.”

Hoseok blinked but Yoongi was gone before he could ask. “Thanks!” he called after him. He thought he heard an acknowledging hum as he took his first sip, but he wasn’t sure. He was sure that he had added a little sea salt, just like Hoseok liked. He shook his head, unable to keep from grinning, fond and confused.

How long have you been courting? he thought. They weren’t. Yoongi was just nice, and knew what Hoseok liked. That’s all.

-

Yoongi shoved at Hoseok’s legs until he stuck out his tongue, moving them off the couch obligingly. Before he could sit up to readjust, Yoongi grabbed one of his ankles, pulling his leg over his lap. Hoseok froze. Yoongi didn’t look at him, didn’t move his hand away. His hands were so—Hoseok loved them. He loved them. He could admit that to himself.

He relaxed after a moment, stretching his other leg out, feeling a little bit electric. Yoongi’s thumb brushed over his ankle bone and it was like a shock. Yoongi brushed again, experimentally, catching Hoseok’s eye just long enough to see that he didn’t mind. Hoseok couldn’t concentrate on anything but the feeling, didn’t even realize his phone had gone to sleep until it started to fall out of his hands and he had to scramble to catch it.

Yoongi’s hand tightened around his ankle, worried he was about to leap away. But Hoseok muttered “S’okay,” and Yoongi stayed.

How long have you been courting? he thought. It was nothing. Yoongi was sweet and knew he liked to be touched and didn’t mind touching him. Taehyung touched him all the time. Everyone did. It was no different. But.

-

Yoongi brought him food, all the time. Full lunches, pastries, fruits (always peeled. His mother cut his fruit for him when he was younger, when she was there to walk him to school and tuck him in and push him in the closet when his father had that look in his eye). Hoseok started to notice how Namjoon held bites up to Seokjin’s lips, heard Taehyung tell Jungkook to stop trying to fatten him up before a shoot but accepting whatever street food he had picked up before the alpha could even pout.

On Friday, noona-nim’s alpha girlfriend brought her leftover stir fry when she forgot her lunch at home. She was like Yoongi, a little. A woman of few words (for everyone), generous with touches (for her). Noona-nim gave him a smug little grin when she left.

How long have you been courting? he thought. He scowled at her, threw a paper ball, and promptly got back to work. Lee from accounts payables always left unintentional mistakes for Hoseok to fix, and he found himself grateful for the squinty-eyed focus he had to have to find them.

-

“Hey,” Yoongi said, right before Hoseok and Jimin headed out to a club that Saturday. “It’s cold. You should wear this.”

It was a jacket, one that would look good with his outfit, one that would keep out the chill without burning him up, even on the dance floor. One that was Yoongi’s.

Hoseok smiled, tugging it on without a second thought. What second thoughts were there to even have? “Thanks, hyung.”

Yoongi nodded once and waved them off, going back to stare at the piece Hoseok knew had been giving him trouble for another ten hours.

He didn’t notice until he was just over the edge of tipsy and he and Jimin were spinning each other in a messy waltz that barely matched the beat, laughing and smiling and having the best time, that no alphas approached him that night. No alphas even came close.

Huh, he thought.

That’s—nice. This is really nice. Yoongi smells really nice, he thought.

How long have you been courting? he thought, and downed the rest of his drink

-

“Wait,” Jimin interrupted him, sitting up quickly enough that his too-sweet wine threatened to slosh over the glass. Hoseok hadn’t expected a confrontation during their Sunday Omega-Beta Wine-Brunch. “He what?”

Hoseok went pink and tugged at his ear, trying to not feel like a spotlight was suddenly directly over his head. Jimin, Taehyung, and Jin were just staring at him, like he had said something insane. He hadn’t. It was normal. It could happen to anyone. “He just puts a blanket over me sometimes, that’s all—”

“Okay, sure, yeah,” Taehyung interrupted. “But—when? When does he do that?”

“When I’m—in his room, shut up, it’s not—”

“When, though?” Hoseok had to really try to not huff at Jin’s interruption.

“It’s not—we’re not—untoward, hyung. Just—sometimes, you know, when I can’t sleep, he lets me hang out while he’s working and—”

“And he lets you listen. To his work.”

Hoseok scowled at Jimin before looking away, unable to hold eye contact for that long. “Stop acting like it’s weird, he makes music for people to listen to, that’s his job—”

“Yeah, when it’s finished. He lets people listen to his music when it’s done. Hobi—” Jimin leaned forward, fixing him with an intense look, speaking with an intense voice made less intense by his Busan satoori drunkenly slipping out. “Hobi. He makes music for me and I don’t hear it until it’s, like, in the final stage. The stage before the final stage at most.”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” Hoseok argued, but it sounded weak to his own ears.

Jimin looked ready to say more but Taehyung—sweet, perfect, angel Taehyung—stopped him with a hand on his knee. “Well, babe. If you ever want to talk about nothing, we’re here.”

How long have you been courting? he thought.

-

It took a week for Hoseok to break.

How long have you been courting? he thought as he pushed himself up from his desk on Monday, muttering something about taking his lunch.

How long have you been courting? he thought as he shoved his hands in the pockets of Yoongi’s jacket he subconsciously decided to never give back, briskly walking to his favorite cafe (one black coffee, one very much not), tipping generously as he always did now that he could afford to.

How long have you been courting? he thought as he walked through the Kim-Min building with single-minded determination, brows furrowed, lips downturned, taking the unfamiliar trip up to the top floor where he knew Yoongi’s office was.

How long have you been courting? he thought as he stormed past his secretary, ignoring his startled what and sir and you can’t go into there and sir! which he felt slightly bad about in the back of his mind because he knew Yoongi could have a little bit of a temper, didn’t want him to think he’d get in trouble.

How long have you been courting? he thought as Yoongi looked up from his computer, eyes wide as he took in Hoseok’s expression, his tense shoulders, his unexpected presence.

“You can’t court me without asking!” Hoseok knew he yelled much louder than he intended to, and he heard the quiet snick of the door behind him as the secretary decided that it wasn’t a conversation his boss would appreciate him interrupting.

Yoongi stared at him, eyes dark and intense, maybe confused but mostly unreadable.

He tried to be patient, he really did, but Yoongi was taking too long to respond and Hoseok thought he might go insane if he had to go through another second of silence. “You can’t court me without asking. I didn’t even know you were courting me until—I didn’t know you were courting me! How was I supposed to know if I didn’t know?”

“I—” Yoongi looked nervous. Yoongi never looked nervous. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, Yoongi, just—ask.”

Yoongi’s mouth twitched oddly, like he was having trouble getting a single word out because he was. He really was nervous. But Hoseok wasn’t.

“Can I court you?”

It was—a little unusual, for an omega to ask. It was unusual for anyone but an alpha to ask, really, when there was an alpha involved. But for once, Hoseok knew what he wanted, and he was confident (at least mostly confident) that Yoongi wanted the same thing, that Yoongi would say yes. There was a chance that he’d die on the spot if Yoongi said no and it was all a huge, horrible misunderstanding, but—he could take a chance. Hoseok took plenty of chances lately. This one just happened to be the most important.

Yoongi just—nodded, minutely and still shocked, staring at him with those beautiful eyes that had stared at him so often before. He cleared his throat when Hoseok kept staring back with an expectant expression. “Yes. Can I court you?”

“Yes! Jesus, hyung.” He set one of the coffee cups in front of Yoongi before sitting down with a little huff, rolling his tense shoulders to try to relax.

Yoongi picked it up, looking at it like it was something spectacular but bizarre. “You didn’t know I was courting you?”

“No,” Hoseok said emphatically. “How would I know? I thought you were just being nice.”

Yoongi blinked, and for some reason, it made Hoseok feel in love. “I like being nice to you.” He took a sip and immediately pulled a face, sticking out his tongue. “This is yours, oh my god. You know you’re only supposed to have so much sugar a day, right? This is at least ten times that—”

Hoseok let out a loud laugh and the tension in the room instantly dissolved. He traded cups, ducking his head when their fingers brushed and a blush rose to his cheeks. “Yeah, well.” He took a deep breath before glancing up, meeting Yoongi’s eyes. He still looked shocked, but it was clearly pleasant. “I never thought I’d be courted, you know. Ever. It never even crossed my mind that you might want to.”

“Why?” Yoongi said, like he didn’t know. He had to. “Youre—so—I can’t believe I got to you first, I thought I’d have to fight fifty people.”

Hoseok snorted, taking a sip to give himself more time. “I’m a broke, ugly whor* with nothing to offer and too much experience. Yours wouldn’t be the first knot I’ve taken, you know that, right?”

“I don’t care,” Yoongi rushed to say. “And—you’re not—ugly, Hobi, are you joking?” Hoseok gave him a look that said he was absolutely not. “You’re—a dream. You’re—God, I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you, your smile—”

Hoseok’s lips twitched up a little. He wasn’t convinced, but it was really, really nice to hear someone say something so sweet. “My smile?”

“It’s a heart, Seok-ah.”

Yoongi sounded so serious that Hoseok had to hide in his hands, muffling the self-conscious, wordless noise that escaped his throat. “Hyung.”

“The first time you smiled at me, really smiled—I locked myself in the restroom for twenty minutes just trying to not pass out then I came up here and did pass out because—look at you!”

“I hate looking at me,” Hoseok shook his head, still hiding his blush but grinning behind his hands.

“I love looking at you enough for the both of us.”

Hoseok sighed, uncovering his face just enough to peek at him. “Does everyone know you’re such a sap?”

“No,” Yoongi promised. “Just you.”

Just you. He took a deep breath and finally moved his hands, leaning back and looking at him—fondly, for sure, but flooded with disbelief. “I’m scared, you know.”

Yoongi frowned guiltily, self-aware. “I know I’m scary.”

Hoseok snorted a laugh that had to be undignified, but he didn’t scare. “You’re the least scary alpha I’ve ever met, and I’ve met Jungkook.”

Yoongi looked almost affronted before he realized that that was a good thing, but still pouted a little. “I am scary.”

“To other people, maybe. Not to me.” Hoseok had heard rumors about the tetchy CEO who was particular about everything from copies to ring tones, and he had genuinely wondered if there was a third CEO he didn’t know about because there was no way it could be Yoongi or Namjoon, but one of his officemates had given him such a horrified-perplexed look when Yoongi dropped off a bag of his favorite chips a month ago that it served as an answer.

Yoongi smiled at him, not the bright, gummy smile that Hoseok loved, but one that was shy and genuine and made his heart swoop in his chest. And then, as they so often did, they sat in comfortable silence, looking at each other as they sipped their coffee, taking in the familiar feeling of being around each other that still felt new with the acknowledgement of what flowed between them.

Yoongi’s phone alarm went off and they both jumped, the alpha letting out a loud sigh. “I have a meeting in five.”

“Oh!” Hoseok checked the time quickly; three hours could have passed and he wouldn’t even have noticed. “My lunch ends in five. I should go back down.”

Yoongi sighed again, standing to lead him out. “Do you want a ride home?”

Hoseok clicked his tongue. “I promised Tae we could go for bingsu.”

“You promised Tae you could gossip about his coworkers,” he corrected.

With a laugh, Hoseok bumped elbows with him, grinning when Yoongi ducked his head, blushing rosy pink. “Yeah, well, comes with the territory.”

Yoongi paused before they could reach the door, looking up at him and quietly speaking before he could change his mind. “Can I scent you?”

Hoseok blinked and couldn’t find words, but he wanted, suddenly, more than he’d ever wanted anything. As soon as he lifted his chin, just barely but clearly a yes, Yoongi came closer than he ever had before, nosing his neck gently, brushing over his scent gland with care. Before he pulled back, he pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, leaving Hoseok breathless before leaving him alone, practically running out the door.

Hoseok stood in his office for a moment in a daze before shaking himself out of it with a steadying breath, closing the door behind him and shooting the secretary a self-conscious smile.

The secretary just looked amused, which made Hoseok feel even more flustered. “So. I’m going to put you on the list of people who can just burst through the door.”

“Uh—” he laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “How many people are on that list?”

“Now? One.”

-

Noona-nim gave him a pointed look when he arrived at his desk and Hoseok didn’t have to ask why. He smelled more like orange-bergamot than moss-mint.

“Thirty minutes,” he said, refusing to look at her.

"Thirty minutes?”

“Yes.” He took a deep breath, trying to act like his world had not been monumentally changed for the millionth time since he met the pack. “We've been courting for thirty minutes.”

Chapter 13

Chapter Text

Alpha Quarterly’s Guide to Courting Your Omega

No matter how unique your omega professes to be, their biology will always come out on top. Make these classic moves and you’ll be sinking your teeth into their neck in no time!

1. Flowers. A classic in any relationship, omegas swoon at a bouquet. Have the florist put together something personal; using their favorite flowers, scents, or colors proves that you listen to them. And, of course, the bigger the bouquet, the better.

2. Food. Another staple in any alpha-omega relationship is proving that you are a provider who will take care of them. Pay attention to their preferences - sweet or salty? Snacks or drinks? Word to the wise, unless it is your omega-to-be’s preference, do not give them health food. Some may take this as a criticism to lose a few pounds. Buying clothing a size too small will get that message across without omega tears.

3. Jewelry. Giving omegas food proves you can provide for their physical needs, giving omegas jewelry proves you can provide for them financially. It goes without saying that the more expensive a piece, the better. Give them something glitzy they can show off to their friends! A spoiled omega is a happy omega.

4. Clothing. This is a great way to make your omega feel spoiled, with the added bonus of showing your omega-to-be what you want to come home to once you’re mated! Sweaters and dresses are fine, but don’t shy away from sheer robes and lingerie.

5. Plushies. An omega is nurturing by nature. Giving them something to fawn over and take care of reminds them of their role in life, and tells them that you believe they will serve you well! We advise against getting omegas pets - you don’t want to give them something that will take their attention away from you.

6. Collars. Some omegas resist the idea of being owned by their alpha, but present one with a collar and they’ll have to stop themselves from dropping to their knees to thank you!

Hoseok looked between the Alpha Quarterly list on his phone and Yoongi’s latest courting gifts, all laid out on his bed. It was a checklist, a one for one. Yoongi’s gifts had been almost odd and impersonal, and it was all too easy to find out why. He’d searched for courting gifts, clicked on the very first result, and here he was. Working through the numbers.

A bouquet, one that was gorgeous, sure, it had made Hoseok half-bury his face in them to hide his bright blush. Lots of yellows and greens, his favorite colors.

A fancy container of chocolates from an actual chocolatier that were dark and bitter and decorated with what Hoseok was half-sure was real gold. It was—nice, Hoseok supposed. But it was clearly an expensive gift rather than one meant for him.

Jewelry—so much jewelry—a Rolex and dangly bracelets and shiny necklaces that Hoseok did like, but they were so clearly meant for someone much fancier than himself, someone who had way too many riches to spare.

A pile of loose shirts and sweaters and thank God no lingerie, things that Hoseok did love, would pick out for himself, but the fact that they were on this stupid list made him cringe.

The most generic teddy bear that Hoseok had ever seen in his life—floppy and brown with a red ribbon around his neck. That didn’t mean he hadn’t slept with it in his arms every night since it was left at his door, but just like the clothes, it was just another checkmark.

There was no collar. But that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be.

The thought made Hoseok nauseous.

Yoongi hadn’t left anything at his door for a few days, though he had stopped by Hoseok’s desk to drop off his usual treats or fetch him for lunch where they pretended to not grin like lovesick teenagers as they pressed their ankles together under the table. He loved that. He loved the feeling of Yoongi touching him, even as innocently as that. He loved laughing too loudly at whatever stupid joke Yoongi made, loved laughing louder at the gummy, pleased grin Yoongi gave him after.

He really—loved. The whole thing. Being—around Yoongi. With Yoongi, in whatever capacity he was with him. But being owned—

He heard rustling at his door and leapt to jerk it open. He wasn’t sure what he would say if Yoongi was leaving a f*cking collar at his door, but he didn’t want to accept it, didn’t want to lock himself into something that would make him have a panic attack in the shower every time he thought about it.

Yoongi jumped back as the door open, looking at Hoseok with flustered guilt at being caught. “Uh—”

“I don’t want a collar,” Hoseok blurted, heart leaping to his throat.

“I—?” Yoongi blinked up at him, still crouched from placing his latest gift in front of the door.

“I don’t—want a collar. Please don’t give me one.”

“I—why would I?” Yoongi asked, but his cheeks went a little more red and Hoseok knew they had been looking at the same list.

“Because it’s what you should do, or whatever, but I can’t—I don’t—” he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “I don’t want that, Yoongi.”

Yoongi didn’t look mad, or offended, or like he needed to throw away the box at his feet before Hoseok could open it. “I know.”

“Do you?” he asked. He felt a stab of anxiety as he questioned an alpha—it wasn’t something that held no weight. “I mean—”

“I do,” Yoongi said with quiet confidence and no audible anger. “I’m not trying to own you, Seok-ah.”

Hoseok swallowed, tugging on his ear, a self-soothing habit he had never been able to kick. “Alpha Quarterly says you should.”

Yoongi abruptly hid his face in his hands. “I know, f*ck, I’m sorry. I never thought about courting before, I didn’t know what to do.” He peeked through his fingers and looked—so sweet that Hoseok had to keep from pulling him close. “It had a lot of likes.”

Hosek snorted. “Yeah, well. Maybe—maybe a lot of omegas wouldn’t mind, but.”

“I bet more mind than don’t. But I never—I got to the collar thing and I never, never considered it. I—know you. I hope. I’m trying to.”

Hoseok couldn’t help but glance at the box and Yoongi was quick to pick it up, holding it out in offering. He felt a little self-conscious as he opened it in front of Yoongi, but when Yoongi’s lips twitched up at his delighted gasp, he figured it was worth it. It was by all means garish, a bright, flower-patterned blanket that would fit in any teen omega’s room. The flowers had smiley faces. Hoseok loved it.

“Hyung—” he laughed.

Yoongi grinned, a blush still dusting his cheeks. “Uh—full disclosure, I saw it at a gas station—”

Hoseok couldn’t hold back his cackle as he shoved Yoongi’s shoulder, keeping his hand on his shoulder to pull him into an almost-hug. “I love my gas station blanket. Thank you.”

“Welcome,” Yoongi mumbled, still giving him that beautiful, gummy grin. “I really didn’t mean to start off so bad.”

“You didn’t,” Hoseok squeezed his shoulder soothingly. “I liked most of your gifts, hyung, thank you.”

“But only most. I want you to like all of them,” Yoongi’s lips were almost pouty. Hoseok wanted to kiss them. He did not.

“I liked the dumb bear.”

“Dumb—I thought it was cute!”

“Yeah, it is. I said I liked it. But—” he sagged a little, remembering the stupid list. “We should have a talk, hyung.”

Reminds them of their role in life, he thought. That was an impossible role for him. One that he didn’t consider much of loss, for that matter. But Yoongi might.

-

Yoongi didn’t care. Of course Yoongi didn’t care. Because Yoongi—was perfect, and Yoongi wanted him, and Yoongi didn’t change his mind.

He didn’t give him a look of disgust or disappointment or, possibly Hoseok’s worst fear, regret. Yoongi just looked concerned, nudged his knee, told him it didn’t make him want him any less. Promised he didn’t have a secret breeding kink, just to make Hoseok laugh, because he knew it would make him shake the hollow feeling from his chest.

“You’re the worst,” Hoseok said with unending fondness.

“Yeah,” Yoongi agreed. His eyes were soft.

-

Taehyung had only sighed “omega time” dramatically as he grabbed Hoseok’s wrist, dragging from his bed to the bathroom. He’d already prepared a luxurious bath in the oversized tub, two glasses of wine on the tray to the side.

“What would you have done if I said no?” Hoseok asked, amused. He was already taking his shirt off, though, and Taehyung waved his hand dismissively.

“I knew you wouldn’t, but, I mean. I’d just drink both glasses. Or I’d cry and you’d give in anyways.”

Hoseok rolled his eyes as he sank into the water, watching Taehyung do the same. “How was Indonesia?”

“Gorgeous. The buildings—you’ll have to go with me someday, hyung. Or—” Hoseok knew him well enough to preemptively glare at the twinkle in his eye, “you and Yoongi-hyung could go together.”

“Stop, we’re not—there yet.”

“But you will be!”

Hoseok sank farther down until the bubbles were up to his chin and his feet rested against Taehyung’s hip. “Not anytime soon.”

Taehyung blinked and sat up, holding on to one of Hoseok’s ankles. “Are you trying to slow down?”

“Am I—no, we’re going at a—normal pace. It’s nice.”

Taehyung squinted at him suspiciously enough that he took a wine to avoid his eyes. “But?”

“Why does there have to be a but?” Hoseok sighed, but felt the corners of his mouth twitch down. Betrayed by his own overactive expressions.

“I dunno, Hobi, why is there?”

“It’s just—I really like it. There really is no but there, I swear. He’s so—sweet, you know? And considerate. And funny, and his smile—” he cut himself off as Taehyung started to giggle. “There is no but. But—”

“But?”

“But it’s going—slow. He’s—he doesn’t touch me very much. And that’s fine—” he was quick to add, because it was fine. It had to be fine.

Taehyung gave his ankle a skeptical squeeze. “That doesn’t sound fine.”

“It is fine! I don’t want him to touch me if he doesn’t want to, you know? I’m not interested in coercing him into it just because I have a stupid craving.”

“It’s not stupid,” he objected emphatically. “You like being touched. You need it, not as like—an omega, or whatever, but as you.”

“I think being an omega is part of it,” he sighed. “Maybe he’s just like this. Maybe he doesn’t like—cuddling. I mean, he touches my back and stuff sometimes, and—and, uh. My neck. When I need it. He always knows when I need it.”

“I don’t think that’s it. Number one, no one in the world could resist cuddling with you ever. Number two, I think he likes it but just—doesn’t seek it out. He’s not the most open alpha, you know? And he’s not insane and possessive, so—at least that’s good, right?”

“Yeah,” Hoseok had to agree. “I was really worried he’d try to collar me.”

“You?” Taehyung laughed. Hoseok would be offended at his tone if he didn’t agree. “He’d be stupid to try.”

“He was reading some article about making omegas swoon or whatever. He got me a teddy bear.”

“I bet you love it.”

“I love it.” Hoseok grinned. “But I had to have the talk with him. It was fine, though. Better than I expected."

Taehyung understood what he meant. He’d gone with Hoseok to the clinic back then, had taken care of him after. He knew Hoseok worried about it now that he was being courted—and there was a strong chance Taehyung would have murdered Yoongi if he had said the wrong thing. “Good.

“Do you think—is he too considerate?”

“Better than JK,” Taehyung snorted. “He tried to be the most confident, co*cky alpha that ever walked the planet.”

“Little Kookie?” Hoseok laughed.

“Little Kookie! He was all growly, he would grab the nape of my neck and scent me super hard and stuff until I kicked him in the balls.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did! You taught me the best way to do it, too, so you know it hurt.” Taehyung grinned, raising his glass in a thankful toast. “He cried. Jimin laughed. He had a complex about alphahood, I think. He wanted to be all big and bad for me. It was kind of endearing that he wanted to keep me so much back then. If it wasn’t, I think I would have tried to steal Jiminie away.”

“You could have done it,” Hoseok said, pushing his damp hair off his forehead.

Taehyung tilted his chin up and took a sip, looking lovely and elegant and incredibly self-aware. “I know. I’m a catch.”

Hoseok hummed in agreement. “I can’t imagine Jungkook being—aggressive.”

“Because he’s not, it was all posturing. He’s such a baby, isn’t he?”

Hoseok had to smile at the warm wistfulness in Taehyung’s voice. “He is. I’m glad I didn’t know about that earlier, though, f*ck. I would have dragged you away during your heat.”

Taehyung cooed, leaning forward to pinch his cheek. “You’re even more protective than him, Hobi-hyung.”

Hoseok batted his hand away. “Aish, the disrespect.”

“I respect you plenty. But really—Jungkook got so soft after that, once he realized that an alpha alpha wasn’t what I wanted. He’s such a good guy, you know? A good alpha. He’s—god, I love him. I just love him. I love him—”

“Oh, do you love him, I wonder—?”

Taehyung laughed and gave him a bright, boxy smile. “Yeah, a little. All it took was a nudge in the right direction.”

“I’m not going to kick Yoongi in the balls, baby.”

“You said it, not me.” Taehyung grinned. “Come here, I wanna wash your hair.”

“You’re my favorite,” Hoseok sighed, sliding to sit between Taehyung’s legs.

“I’m telling everyone,” Taehyung said, laying a smacking kiss on his temple before unceremoniously pouring water over his head, laughing at his yelp.

Chapter 14

Chapter Text

“What are your intentions with my Hobi-hyung?” Taehyung asked.

Yoongi blinked at him, hands frozen over his keyboard. The omega had slammed his bedroom door open without warning, and Yoongi had a strong suspicion that the pointed question had not been authorized by Hoseok himself.

He blinked a few times, trying to figure out if there was a secret answer he had somehow missed.”To mate him?”

Taehyung’s lips twitched down, clearly unsatisfied.

“You know what my intentions are, Taehyungie. So does he.”

“Well—yes, but.” Taehyung’s frown grew more defined though his posture relaxed, no longer quite as confident. “What else?”

“I don’t know if there’s another answer, puppy. I want to mate your Hobi-hyung. Is that okay with you?”

Taehyung huffed a little. “Of course it is."

“Then what’s the problem?” Yoongi wasn’t bothered in the slightest; he truly wanted to know if Taehyung objected in any way, shape or form. He was Hoseok’s baby, and he was Yoongi’s shadow, besides. His little adopted pup. Yoongi wanted him to be happy with their relationship, wanted to be the right choice for Hoseok in Taehyung’s eyes.

“There’s—not a problem,” Taehyung admitted, frown turning into a pout. He came in, closing the door behind him and flopping onto Yoongi’s bed. There were two people in the world that Yoongi would tolerate that behavior from, and luckily, Taehyung had been the first to claim that privilege. “I just felt like I should ask. Nobody—nobody’s there to ask for Hobi, you know? And I love him the most.”

“You might have some competition,” Yoongi didn’t look at him, could feel the prickle of his cheeks heating up.

Taehyung was quiet for a moment as he thought that through. “Oh!” he gasped, and even as Yoongi cringed from the sound he couldn’t bring himself to regret his words. “Oh, hyungie,” he cooed loudly, drawing out the sound. “That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard, oh my god, you’re so cute when you have a crush.”

Yoongi snorted and rubbed his red ears. “I’m courting him, Tae-yah, I’d say it’s more than a crush.”

“My Yoongi-hyung is in love,” Taehyung gasped, rolling onto his belly to sigh deeply into the blankets. Yoongi went even more red, then even redder when he glanced and met Taehyung’s eyes.

“Well,” he said, quieter than he meant to. “Yeah.”

Taehyung yelled into the blanket again, only stopping when Yoongi threw a quickly-made paper ball at his head. "Hey!”

“Hush, you wild thing.”

“You have no bite anymore, big bad alpha. Hobi’s taken away your teeth.”

Yoongi frowned, but knew he was right. It wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. “He let me keep my teeth as long as I dulled them.”

“That’s almost cuter, hyung, you know that right—” Taehyung gave him a cheeky grin and Yoongi couldn’t stop himself from throwing another paper ball, hitting him right on the nose. His teeth weren’t that dull.

“f*ck off,” he grumbled. “But give hyung a hug first, come here.”

Taehyung let out a delighted giggle that Yoongi tried and failed to not let warm his heart. He sat on his lap like an overgrown lap pup, throwing his arms around his neck. He let out another giggle when Yoongi kissed his cheek. “M’telling Hobi you’re flirting with me—”

“Oh no,” he said, deadpan. “He’ll believe you for sure.”

A quiet knock on his door was followed by a ‘Yoongi?’ and a loud shriek from Taehyung. “Don’t come in!”

“Aish,” Yoongi grunted. “Come in, Seok-ah.”

Hoseok opened the door, careful to not spill the two mugs of coffee in his hands. He looked almost-concerned but knew Taehyung well enough to take his dramatics with a grain of salt. “Everything okay in here?”

“Your alpha’s coming onto me, hyung, what are you gonna do about it—”

“Ah, he can have you,” Hoseok said dismissively. Yoongi ducked against Taehyung’s shoulder to hide his grin. “He’ll come running back to me in a day.”

Taehyung made an offended squawk and pushed himself off of Yoongi’s lap, giving them both an unimpressed scowl. “I’m a catch.”

“You’ve been caught twice, baby, you don’t need a third,” Hoseok grinned, giving the other omega a kiss on the cheek as he nudged by him, setting one of the mugs on Yoongi’s desk. “And one of your fishermen is looking for you. He said to tell you there are bats in the shed and you’d know what it meant?”

“We don’t have a shed,” Yoongi said, just as Taehyung gasped “Oh, sex!”

Hoseok and Yoongi stared with an equal mix of horror, befuddlement and fondness as he scrambled out the door, leaving it wide open even as Yoongi yelled after him. Hoseok rolled his eyes and shut if for him before sitting on the edge of the bed. “I brought a refill,” he said, nodding towards the coffee.

“I see,” Yoongi said. He felt unmistakably soft as he looked at him, unending warmth swelling in his chest. “Thanks, Hob-ah.”

Hoseok smiled, kicking at him a little. “Do you mind company?”

“As long as it’s yours, I don’t mind at all.” Hoseok laughed and Yoongi tried desperately to not swoon out of his chair. “How was work?”

“Fine, how was not work?”

“I slept til an hour ago, so—”

“So the best,” Hoseok grinned, heart-shaped, crinkle-eyed, the most beautiful sight in the world. He squirmed a little and broke as soon as Yoongi met his eyes for half a second. “I’m being considered for a promotion.”

Yoongi blinked. “What? Hobi—f*ck, that’s fantastic—”

He squirmed again before pulling his legs up, sitting crosslegged in an effort to keep still. “I thought it was Joon's doing at first, honestly, since—you know. He—made it all happen. But then I looked at my accuracy and accounts and stuff from the past six months and—I’m good at my job. I think. I didn’t really notice before, but—”

“Of course you are,” Yoongi smiled. He couldn’t resist rolling his chair close, putting a hand on Hoseok’s knee. “I’m so proud of you, Hoseok.”

Hoseok dropped his head and tugged on his earlobe before quickly grabbing his hand, not wanting him to leave. “Thanks, hyung. I don’t even know if I’ll get it—”

“You will.”

“—but it’s really—really nice to be considered in the first place, I’ve never—I mean, I’ve never even had a job where I could be considered for that and I’m an omega but my supervisor is an omega too which is still crazy and—”

“Hoseok,” Yoongi said warmly. Orange-bergamot flooded the room and Hoseok leaned into it, his mossy-mint swelling in return.

“Sorry,” Hoseok laughed a little, squeezing his hand. “I’m just—”

“Don’t apologize, baby, I get it.” Hoseok’s head snapped up, meeting his eyes with bright intensity. Yoongi raised his brows, trying to follow. “Seok—?”

“You called me baby.”

For the millionth time since he met Hoseok, Yoongi felt his stomach swoop. “O-oh. Oh, I didn’t—”

“I liked it,” Hoseok quickly interrupted. “It just—took me by surprise.”

“Good surprise?” Yoongi asked quietly, swallowing the panic down as much as he could.

“Good surprise,” Hoseok confirmed, giving him a soft smile. “I really—ha.”

“What?” Yoongi asked, frowning when Hoseok shook his head. “I almost had a heart attack for you, give me something—”

“I just like you,” he said quietly, honestly. “That’s all.”

Yoongi gave a flustered little laugh. He felt Hoseok’s hand in his own like it was a livewire, the contact sending pleasant shocks up his arm. “I like you, too.”

“I like that you're courting me.”

“I like that you’re courting me back.”

“I like that you want to court me in the first place.” Hoseok laughed and squeezed his hand, looking away from Yoongi and out the window. “I’m falling in love with you embarrassingly fast, hyung.”

Yoongi laughed; he wouldn’t be surprised if his entire body had lit up with the bright glow that seemed to flood his veins all at once, wouldn’t be surprised if how much he felt showed even on his teeth. “Hoseok.”

Hoseok bit his lip but didn’t take it back, but there was a tinge of worry in his expression. “Yeah?”

“I’m in love with you,” Yoongi said, soft and honest, huffing out a little laugh. “I don’t think there was even time for me to fall. A day, at most.”

Hoseok’s mouth dropped into a pretty O as he stared at him. Yoongi couldn’t believe there was ever any doubt about his feelings—but he knew (and had been told a thousand times) that he kept his emotions close to his chest and very stubbornly off his face. He felt strongly but couldn’t blame anyone for thinking he didn’t feel at all. Not that Hoseok thought that. Hoseok knew him. Perhaps better than anyone.

“Hyung,” he finally said, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re making me blush.”

Yoongi just grinned before leaning close, nosing his neck briefly because he couldn’t stand not having his scent on Hoseok a second longer. “Would you mind listening to what I’ve been working on? I think fresh ears might help.”

Hoseok was blushing, but he smiled his bright heart smile with his soft, beautiful eyes. “I’d love to.”

-

“You need to show him what you want,” Taehyung said after watching Yoongi not touch him even as they sat next to each other on the patio loveseat. “Even nice alphas can be idiots.”

“Yoongi’s not an idiot,” Hoseok sighed, but he couldn’t force argument into his voice. “He just—mm.”

“He’s just an idiot, I know,” Taehyung nodded sagely. “You don’t have to make it a whole discussion, just start touching him, he’ll get the message.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll kick some sense into him, don’t worry.”

Hoseok laughed, shoving his shoulder. “Like you kicked JK?”

“Exactly like that,” Taehyung agreed with a grin. “I’ve whipped one alpha into shape, what’s another?”

-

Jimin had been staying in a company-provided hotel suite while he ostensibly worked on his new album with a Daegu-based producer. In reality, he were staying in a company-provided hotel suite right next to Yoongi’s because he knew his packmate got lonely and would pretend he was fine, don’t worry about me, I don’t need company. Without someone to drag him out of the studio every twelve or so hours, though, he would inevitably perish and his bones would collect dust until someone from the Kim-Min pack got tired of his absence and ventured from Seoul to find him.

But, Jimin discovered early on, Yoongi had been dragging himself out of the studio every day for a month to go to a cozy coffeeshop that had apparently had “fair-trade dark roasts. The good sh*t.”

“Hyung,” Jimin said barely two days into his stay. “Yoongi-hyung. Oh my god.”

Yoongi raised his eyebrows, taking a sip of his fair-trade-dark-roast-good-sh*t.

“You have a crush.”

Yoongi choked on his coffee and quickly covered his cough, which conveniently covered his blush, as well. “f*cking what, Jimin?”

“You have a crush. You never go out, hyung, you get coffee delivered to the studio all the time, you don’t have to leave.”

“I like to get fresh air once in a while, is that a crime? I don’t have a crush, Jesus, I’m not ten.” Yoongi was still blushing, though. Fresh air wasn’t a crime but those cheeks were incriminating.

Jimin gave him an unimpressed pout. “Who is it? Is it a barista or are you just meeting someone there to have a secret tryst? Are they an omega? Beta? Alpha? Cute? They have to be cute—”

“It’s not like that, Jimin, stop.”

“So there is someone,” Jimin said, a slow grin stretching across his face.

“Not like that, I said!” Yoongi huffed, glaring at him. Trying to, at least. Jimin had grown immune to his glowers long ago. “It’s not like that.”

Jimin raised his brows, unconvinced. “How is it then?”

Yoongi frowned and took another sip to buy himself time, then another because, as thought by Jimin, he was a coward. “I think he’s one of us.”

“One of us,” Jimin snorted. “Are we part of a cult or something?”

“I mean—I think he belongs with us. With our pack.”

Jimin blinked. That was—not what he expected. Not at all. “Sorry?”

“There’s something about him,” he shrugged. “I can’t explain it.”

“I want to meet him.” The demand brokered no arguments. “Tell me about—no, don’t, I want to figure it out for myself. When I meet him. Which will be extremely soon.”

Jimin expected more of a fight, but Yoongi only sighed. “Tomorrow. And don’t scare him off, he’s—a good kid.”

-

“This is Jimin,” Yoongi said, leaning on the counter. “He’s part of my pack. Jimin, Taehyung.”

Jimin stared at Taehyung. Taehyung stared at Jimin.

Yoongi glanced between them, extremely confused.

“I think we’re soulmates,” Taehyung said finally, his eyes never leaving Jimin’s.

Jimin nodded slowly. “I know we’re soulmates.”

“You’re very beautiful, Jimin-ssi.”

“Taehyung-ah. I’m not sure there’s anyone more beautiful than you.”

“Jimin-ah,” Taehyung said softly, correcting himself. “I get off in an hour.”

“I’ll be here,” Jimin said, reaching for his hand. Taehyung met him in the middle, squeezing.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said softly, reluctant to let go.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Jimin said, even softer.

They had to let go when the line of customers behind them started to grow, and Taehyung waived the cost of their order with a cheery “pack discount.” Yoongi rolled his eyes and shoved a few bills into the tip jar in front of the register.

Jimin was silent as they collected their drinks and found a table, watching Taehyung work with bright-eyed interest.

“Soulmates, huh?” Yoongi asked after a few long moments, letting him bask in the feeling of life being a little more perfect than it had been an hour ago.

“Soulmates,” Jimin confirmed. “I should call Jungkook.”

Yoongi clicked his tongue, sitting back. “f*ck, I—didn’t think of that.”

Jimin shook his head a little, giving Taehyung a shy smile when they met each others’ eyes. “I’m not worried, hyung. I think you’re right. He’s meant to be one of ours.” Jimin’s lips quirked, his eyes tearing up sweetly as he just whispered, reverently, “Taehyung.”

-

Jimin was right to not worry.

Jungkook drove down the very same night, arriving just after Taehyung left Jimin’s suite to go home, and gave Taehyung the same wide-eyed, wondrous look as Jimin had the second he walked into the coffee shop the next morning.

It was perfect—clandestine, fated, meant-to-be. There was something about them that just clicked. Several somethings just clicked, really, possibly everything. Taehyung told them about his less-than-perfect childhood and his less-than-illustrious career, and they still stayed, they still wanted him. Taehyung had always hoped someone would want him the way he wanted someone, and now he had two people. He had two perfect, wonderful, beautiful, kind, talented, loving people who wanted him, who he wanted back.

Everything was perfect, all at once.

Except.

Jungkook was odd. He was so sweet, by Jimin and Yoongi’s accounts as well as Taehyung’s own observation. But with Taehyung, he was—odd. Not odd, really, Taehyung knew. He was just alpha. He had met plenty of nice alphas before though he had met more bad ones, and he supposed Jungkook was a good one, but he was also growly, sometimes, and possessive, and acted way too much like the many knotheads Taehyung had known in his time.

But it was all so clearly an act.

Taehyung tried to throw off the vibes that he didn’t like when Jungkook grabbed his wrist or pushed food his way with too much insistence. He tried to huff his displeasure when Jungkook growled at a friendly alpha regular who thankfully understood when Taehyung explained they had just started courting. He tried to make sure Jungkook saw his grimace when he scented Taehyung a little too aggressively or touched his back in front of strangers just to show that he was taken, like he needed to worry about Taehyung trying to run off at the first hint of someone else’s interest.

Jungkook was perfect for him in so many ways, and it was beyond frustrating that, even after three weeks of knowing each other, he didn’t understand that Taehyung was an omega but not an Omega-omega, and he didn’t like being treated like one.

The final straw was Jungkook grabbing the nape of Taehyung’s neck—it was meant to be a comforting, possessive gesture, but Taehyung had had way too many experiences with co*cky alphas to believe Jungkook had earned that right. He turned swiftly, kneed his groin mercilessly, and glowered at him as he fell to the floor.

“Stop being an asshole, Jungkook.” He left him groaning in pain and stomped out of the suite, back

mimi: lol did you kick Jungkook’s dick?

taetae: no
taetae: used my knee
taetae: dont like when hes all alpha jiminie
taetae: grabbed my neck
taetae: mean :(

mimi: Ohhhhhh baby he didn’t mean to be mean, I promise :(

taetae: dont care
taetae: mean. ive known way too many mean alphas, i dont want him to be one of them esp bc hes supposed to be one of my SOULMATES and hes being MEAN and alpha and i like alphas but not Alphas yk i dont LIKE that

mimi: I’ll talk to him, okay?? I don’t know why he’s doing stupid sh*t
mimi: I’m on your side, peach. Promise.

taetae: ik. ty
taetae: :(((

-

Taehyung answered the door with a sad frown that had been present since Jimin texted him a warning.

“Hi,” Jungkook said quietly, not quite meeting his eyes. “Can I come in?”

Taehyung shrugged and walked away, leaving the door open for Jungkook to follow. He didn’t look back as he led him to his very-beloved shoebox of a room, and when he did turn, it took him a moment to see Jungkook—he wasn’t standing, looking all pretend-contrite and stupid-alpha like Taehyung had expected, but he was kneeling at his feet, head bowed and hands clasped in front of him.

“What—” Taehyung choked out, stepping back in surprise.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook said, quiet but clear enough to be heard. “I’m really sorry, Taehyung. I didn’t mean to hurt you or hurt your feelings or be mean or—” he cut himself off with a shake of his head. “I hurt you, even if I didn’t mean to. And I’m really, really sorry.”

“Jungkook—” Taehyung started, voice shaking.

Jungkook swallowed when he didn’t continued before taking a deep breath, looking up at him with those beautiful doe-eyes. “I don’t know what I’m doing, hyung. I’ve never really—courted anybody, and I don’t know any omegas except my eomma and—I should have asked her about it. Courting and stuff. I just—TV shows aren’t very educational, apparently, and it was—I should have noticed that you didn’t like what I was doing, and I should have stopped right away. I’m sorry that I didn’t and I really, really hope you forgive me because I like you a lot and—”

Tears were welling up in Jungkook’s eyes and Taehyung’s heart melted. “Oh, Jungkookie,” he whispered before kneeling in front of him, leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “I forgive you. Just—don’t do it again, okay?”

Jungkook nodded quickly, staring at him like he was an angel. “I won’t, hyung. I promise.”

Taehyung smiled a little, cupping Jungkook’s cheek in his hand before letting out a little giggle. “I’ve never had an alpha kneel for me,” he grinned with a wink. “I kind of like it.”

Taehyung meant it as a tease; even if Jungkook was going to stop his Capital-A-Alpha posturing, he was still an alpha. But Jungkook’s eyes went wide, his cheeks pinkened, his mouth went a little lax in his fluster.

“Good boy,” Taehyung whispered, unable to resist. Jungkook whined softly before abruptly standing, scrubbing at his face to hide his embarrassment. Taehyung laughed and stood as well, pulling him into a hug. “I’m only teasing, Kook-ah,” he said, making a mental note in underlined bold to ask Jimin if he knew about this as soon as possible.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, hiding his face in Taehyung’s neck and wrapping his arms around his waist. “Thanks for forgiving me, hyung, I—I really like you. Like. A lot.”

“I really like you, like, a lot, too,” Taehyung said with a squeeze. “I’ll make you a deal.” Jungkook hummed and Taehyung rubbed his back. “Scent me, go home, take me and Jiminie out for a really nice apology dinner, and then we can have a sleepover in your big, comfy hotel bed and it’ll be great.”

Jungkook laughed, pulling back to grin at him with that beautiful bunny smile. “That doesn’t really sound like a deal. It just sounds like—a bunch of treats for me.”

“It’s a deal because I’m telling you which treats I want. So—deal?”

“Deal,” Jungkook said before giggling, squeezing Taehyung’s waist. “You kissed me.”

“Uh-huh. I’m gonna kiss Jimin tonight, don’t worry.”

“You like when things are even,” Jungkook said.

Taehyung nearly swooned at the alpha just knowing that about them, without even needing to be told. He just noticed. Because he was good and kind and caring and would be even better now that he wouldn’t pretend to be big and bad. “I do. Now scent me and go, I want to get dolled up for dinner.”

“You’re not dolled up right now?” Jungkook asked, an honest question that nearly made Taehyung swoon again.

“You’re so sweet, Kook-ah, but no. You’ll know when I am. Now—”

“I know, hyung,” Jungkook grinned, leaning in and nosing his neck happily, breathing him in. “Will you do me?”

Taehyung hummed and traded places, ducking his head to nose against his gland as soon as he straightened up. He gently pushed him away after a moment, giving him a soft smile. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Okay,” Jungkook said, but didn’t move until Taehyung pushed him again, like he had forgotten walking was the next step. “Okay. Bye, Taehyungie-hyung, I like you a lot—”

Taehyung laughed and waved as the alpha walked to his car. “I like you a lot, too, Jungkookie.”

-

Namjoon had chosen some arthouse experimental documentary for movie night, and everyone but Jungkook was doing a wonderful job of faking excitement. Jungkook didn’t have to fake it. Hoseok’s usual spot beside Yoongi was free and waiting for him, and Yoongi was waiting for him as well, scrolling through his phone with their shared bowl of popcorn on his lap.

Taehyung gave him a stern look from the other side of his spot and Hoseok sighed, nodding a little. He took a steeling breath before sitting besides Yoongi, taking the cushion he usually hugged that the alpha handed him and handing it off to Taehyung, choosing instead to lean heavily against him, hugging his arm and pretending like it was an everyday occurrence.

Yoongi froze for just long enough that Hoseok started to pull away, a self-conscious blush making its way to his cheeks, a murmured apology on his tongue—when Yoongi met his eyes. He looked—surprised, but pleased, his smile warm and welcoming. He lifted his arm and put it around Hoseok’s shoulder, encouraging him to snuggle up closer. He nosed Hoseok’s temple after he settled and Hoseok ducked his head with a shy laugh, hiding his face against Yoongi’s shoulder.

“Hi,” Yoongi whispered, lips moving against Hoseok’s hair.

“Hi,” he replied, just as quietly.

They didn’t need to say anything else.

Chapter 15

Chapter Text

Now that the barrier had been broken, Hoseok found himself touching Yoongi (and being touched by Yoongi) almost constantly. He had claimed the leather sofa in Yoongi’s office as his own, sometimes falling asleep while waiting for Yoongi to wrap up work for the day only to wake up with his legs across Yoongi’s lap as the alpha held an ankle in one hand and typed on his laptop with the other, or with his head in Yoongi’s lap as he threaded his fingers through his hair and held an almost-whispered business meeting over the phone so he wouldn’t disturb him. Hoseok touched his waist as they walked together, held his hand over the gearshift as he drove them home, leaned onto Yoongi’s shoulder as they relaxed after dinner—but there was still a line that they were hesitant to cross.

Hoseok fell asleep on Yoongi’s bed sometimes, with his favorite flowery blanket wrapped around his shoulders, or snuggled up to his side as he nosed his neck lazily. Yoongi slumped against him for moments of slumber that were stilted and brief because he always had trouble resting if he thought he had things to do. But they didn’t sleep together, even by the chastest definition.

It wasn’t something Hoseok wanted to rush, though. In his mind, regardless of how different Yoongi was from anyone he had been with in the past, sleeping together never meant sleeping. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t mind not-sleeping with Yoongi, but—but.

He liked what they had. He loved what they had. He loved that Yoongi was kind and didn’t want to knot him and leave right after. He loved that Yoongi saw something in him that was worth more than sex. He loved that Yoongi loved him. Was in love with him. Loved that he was in love with him back.

But he wouldn’t mind wrapping himself around him at night, nor would he mind drowning in orange-and-bergamot enough for noona-nim to poke fun at him all day. Nor would he mind just more time with Yoongi, who was courting him, which was still above and beyond comprehension. The way Yoongi looked at him sometimes, though—he thought it might be beyond the alpha’s comprehension, as well.

So Hoseok went to bed alone, just as he always did. (Just as he usually did, unless Taehyung decided he wanted an omega night or he and Jimin and Jungkook tugged him into their nest just for even more contact.) He fell asleep easily, which would have been an absolute feat not even six months ago but was an every-night occurrence now. What wasn’t an every-night occurrence was the timid knock on his door. It was unusual enough that he stirred, blinking blearily in the dark.

If it was Taehyung, he would have come in without invitation. If it was Jimin, he would have texted him beforehand to see if he was awake. If it was Jungkook, he would have asked him to cuddle before Hoseok even made it to his own room.

Hoseok glanced at the clock—four in the morning. Who was awake at four in the morning? “Uh—come in?”

The door cracked and Hoseok could see the dark circles under Yoongi’s eyes from across the room.

“Hey,” he whispered, voice more gravelly than usual. “Sorry, I know—I know I woke you.”

Hoseok rubbed his eyes, trying to wake himself up enough to understand what was happening. “Hyung?”

“I can’t sleep,” Yoongi said, sounding more guilty than miserable. “You—help. Can—” he took a stuttering breath before stepping back into the hallway, shaking his head. “Sorry, sorry, I’m—”

“Yoongi,” Hoseok said gently, patting the bed beside him. “Come here.”

It was as if Yoongi was on autopilot as he walked over, climbing into Hoseok’s bed clumsily, sitting right where Hoseok had indicated. He looked at him with miserably exhausted eyes and Hoseok clicked his tongue, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. Yoongi’s eyes fluttered as he leaned into his touch and Hoseok’s heart leapt to his throat.

“Hyung,” he whispered. “Lay down. I’ll take care of you.”

Yoongi nodded helplessly before going lax, wrangling himself under the blankets with Hoseok’s caring assistance. He finally settled lower than Hoseok, his face pressed against his side even as he kept his arms wrapped around his own chest. “Always do,” he mumbled.

“Mm?” Hoseok asked, petting his hair.

“Always take care of me, Hoseokie.”

Hoseok’s heart was still in his throat, and it seemed to leap right to his tongue, weighing it down too much for him to respond. He settled for holding him close, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck and drawing soothing patterns on the knobs of his spine as his breath evened out, eventually becoming rhythmic, warm huffs against Hoseok’s skin where his shirt had ridden up.

It didn’t take long for Hoseok to drift off again. Yoongi’s presence felt natural, and Hoseok’s touch was as relaxing for him as it was for the alpha.

He didn’t wake until morning sunlight began to stream through the windows, and he blinked into consciousness slow and peaceful. He was not so much surprised as he was incredibly pleased to find Yoongi still passed out. His nose was pressed against the crown of Yoongi’s hair, one arm wrapped around his shoulders to tuck him close. Yoongi’s hand gripped the front of Hoseok’s shirt, pulling him even closer—there was a cold spot of drool on Hoseok’s shoulder where Yoongi had nestled his head, but it only served to make Hoseok feel even more endeared by him.

He had, perhaps, never felt more grateful for the weekend. Yoongi had already promised to go to go out for coffee with him that morning so Hoseok knew he had no other plans, and he readily accepted the loss of photo ops in exchange for the chance to sleep in, especially when Yoongi was right there with him.

Hoseok had just begun to drift off once more when his door opened abruptly. He barely stopped himself from shouting in shock, remembering just in time that that would definitely wake Yoongi. Taehyung stood in the doorway, staring at him with wide eyes, mouth in a shocked O. Hoseok stared back, heart still pounding in shock. It was a long moment before either of them moved—Taehyung slowly pulled out his phone, barely looking at it as he snapped a picture. The shutter sound made Yoongi grumble in his sleep and Hoseok immediately frowned, tucking him closer in an effort to keep him asleep.

Taehyung held a finger in front of his lips and nodded, backing out of the room slowly and silently closing the door behind him. Hoseok stared after him for another moment before forcing himself to relax once more, head falling against the pillow. Yoongi cuddled closer into his chest with another mumble. Hoseok kissed his temple and found the scent gland on his neck, brushing his thumb over it gently. His own moss-and-mint mixed with the orange-and-bergamot as it drifted gently into the room.

“Seok-ah?” Yoongi mumbled, tilting his head slightly to give him better access.

“Yeah?” Hoseok whispered, already preparing to convince him to stay in bed.

“Love you,” he said, and soft, sleeping breaths came shortly after.

-

“I’m looking for a new secretary,” Yoongi said cheerfully; Hoseok could hear Seojoon laughing in the background. Yoongi had FaceTimed him as soon as Hoseok had texted that he taking his break.

“Ah, what a shame,” Hoseok commiserated, taking a sip of the odd green juice Taehyung had started making lately. They were all doing their part to clear the fridge of it. “I’d be a distracting secretary, I’m afraid I can’t help.”

“You’d be the office gossip,” Yoongi agreed. “Doesn’t change the fact that I murdered Seojoon-ssi in cold blood.”

Seojoon just laughed louder.

Hoseok grinned. It was hard to not grin when he was looking at Yoongi’s face. “Sounds like an HR disaster. What are you going to put on the form?”

“Mm, that he deserved it because he’s a terrible secretary who allowed someone to break into my office over the weekend?”

“Is it breaking in if he has a key?” Hoseok asked. “I’m assuming he didn’t steal one of your eight hundred monitors.”

“I have five, Hob-ah—”

“Five,” Hoseok nodded. “Sure, just five—”

“But it is about my set up.”

Hoseok blinked, a little startled. No one messed with Yoongi’s computers—his life work was entirely digital minus the hard copies he kept locked in a safe ‘just in case’. He was just opening his mouth to ask him what was happening when he reversed the camera, showing him five screens of himself holding Yoongi, looking startled and barely-awake, hair mussed, Yoongi’s mouth open in his sleep.

“Taehyung,” he and Yoongi said in unison.

“He and my late secretary are ‘friends’ or something, he didn’t even have to bribe him,” Yoongi complained, flipping back to the front-facing camera as he sank into his chair with a pout.

-

“Is that my little Hob-ah?”

Hoseok rubbed the back of his neck, giving the other omega a self-conscious grin. “Hi, noona.”

She pretended to scowl at him for barely a moment before rushing forward and throwing her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek regardless of the lipstick prints it left on his skin.

He hadn’t been back to his usual haunt since moving in with Namjoon’s pack. He had thought about it in passing, when he found himself locked up in memories, worried about how he could continue living when they eventually got tired of him (though he felt guilty for thinking that they would as soon as he came out of himself, because he knew they wouldn’t, an astounding feeling). It was remembering the promise he had made when he got the Kim-Min position that pushed him to take the metro down to the seedy Seoul underbelly he knew so well. Namjoon tried his best to get him to take one of their cars, but Hoseok knew better than to park something even a tenth that nice on those streets.

His noona smelled like menthols but it was so familiar Hoseok couldn’t help but find comfort in it. “Sorry I stayed away so long.”

Jayoung took his face between her hands as she pulled away. Hoseok couldn’t help the way his heart squeezed, or the way his eyes watered. She had been the best presence in his life after Taehyung left for Daegu—she had kept him safe, as much as she could, shared her meager meal, made him laugh about things that most people would find unlaughable, made their dismal life a little better.

“You look good, Hobi,” she said, tucking his hair behind his ear. “Which means I’ll forgive you if you treat noona to lunch.”

Hoseok laughed and hugged her close again. “That’s what I’m here to do.”

She generously waited until they had placed their hot pot order to begin the interrogation.

“Now,” she said, folding her arms on the table and pursing her lips, staring at him with a scrutinizing squint. “You reek of alpha, Jung Hobi.”

He laughed, covering his face and ignoring the very feeling of his ears going red. “Noona!”

“That wasn’t an objection, baby. Now—” there was something serious in her voice, something that made Hoseok put his hands down to meet her eyes. “Tell me the truth, sweetheart. Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” he promised, reaching across the table to take her hand. “I’m really good, noona.” He took a deep breath—not to steel himself, but to keep himself from vibrating from sheer emotion. “His name is Yoongi, and I’m in love.”

Jayoung clicked her tongue, lacing their fingers together. “He’s an alpha?”

Hoseok nodded, taking a sip of tea. “Yeah. He’s—there are three of them in the pack, and they’re all—” he laughed. It was still so wild how different they were from nearly every other alpha he had met in his life. “They’re all so good. Really kind. Fun. But Yoongi-hyung—”

“An older man?” she oohed, just to make him roll his eyes.

“Only by a year, stop. He’s, uh. He’s the Min of Kim-Min, so that’s—something.”

She blinked. It was easy for him to forget how truly insane that fact was now that he had gotten used to it, but it was insane—he was successful and wealthy, his name attached to some of the most successful musicians and idols of their generation. “You’re not joking.”

“No,” he laughed, tugging at his ear with the hand not in hers. “That’s not why I’m with him, obviously, but—”

“But that’s, uh. Something.” Jayoung said with an incredulous smile. “He’s good to you, though, really?”

“Really. He’s—courting me. Like, properly.”

Jayoung laughed. “Alphas still do that?”

“I’m courting him back,” Hoseok grinned. “I think that’s a little more unconventional, though. Now we can do a one for one fact, I refuse to just talk about myself, I want to hear all the gossip I’ve missed out on—”

“Well,” she said, leaning forward conspiratorily. “Let me tell you about Hucheul.”

Hoseok was glad she didn’t try to object when he placed a thick billfold in her hand when he dropped her off, both of them giggly on soju and good company. She tucked it away in her bra before giving him one last hug, holding him close to her.

“I’m so happy for you, Hobi,” she whispered, rocking him slightly. “You deserve every happiness you get, you know that, right?”

“You know I don’t,” he said, kissing her temple. “But thank you. If you need anything, you have my number, okay?”

“Okay, my little pup.”

His laugh was watery as he let her go, waving goodbye as he went back to his own very different life.

-

Yoongi had stayed late in the office the night before and went in even earlier that morning. The most popular Kim-Min idol group’s comeback was coming up, and some tasks couldn’t (wouldn’t, really, because it was Yoongi) be delegated. As busy as he was, he still touchingly made a point to make time for Hoseok.

Hoseok waved at Seojoon as he made his way into Yoongi’s office.

“How was your night?”

“Great,” he smiled, feeling soft. “It was good. Jayoung and I got hot pot, had a little too much to drink, gossiped about knotheads, including you—”

Yoongi made an affronted noise, pouting at him. It was endearing enough that he had to lean over his desk, pinching his cheek with a coo. Yoongi batted his hand away halfheartedly, and Hoseok could see the overpowering fondness in his eyes. It was distracting enough that he almost missed the monitors still showing the picture Taehyung had taken, still there a week later.

“Ha, uh—” Hoseok laughed. “You know you can change that, right?"

Yoongi glanced, cheeks going vaguely pink as he shrugged. “Yeah, I know.”

Chapter 16

Chapter Text

There had been a moment just a few days after Hoseok’s promotion was announced that caused Hoseok to briefly flush with shame. A new employee, the first that had been assigned to Hoseok’s supervision, had realized that he was being courted by one of the higher-ups—one of the highest-ups there could be.

“So that’s what you have to do to get a raise around here?” the beta had snorted, pretending to jest but the derisiveness in his tone betraying it as the jab it was. “Just get under an alpha and bam, money in your pocket? Sounds like prosti—”

“Hoseok-ssi is a dedicated and valuable employee,” one of his coworkers cut him off, an alpha woman whose no-nonsense attitude Hoseok had simultaneously been intimated by and respected her for. “His private business does not interfere with his work, nor does it give him preferential treatment.”

“You’ll watch your tone around us,” Noona-nim added, fixing the beta with a look that no one would dare cross. “And you’ll watch your tone about Hoseok-ah around me in particular. I recommend that you be appropriate at work and around my friend.”

The beta had swallowed and gave a nervous nod before bowing his head over data sheets again. He had barely looked at Hoseok or his noona since, and certainly hadn’t kicked up a fuss about Hoseok’s relationships again, even when Yoongi and Namjoon had fetched him for lunch the day after.

Hoseok knew he was a good worker, and knew he deserved the commendation he got. But it took a solid week afterwards to reconvince himself of the fact, caught up in the insinuation that he whor*d himself out to Yoongi in exchange for his position.

Hoseok had made peace long ago with the fact that he did what he had to do to stay alive and to keep himself fed—but he could admit that there was residual shame, and it was hardly something he wanted to discuss with his coworkers, even those he was close to. Having it mentioned, even if there was ignorance of his past behind it, struck a chord in Hoseok. But his friends coming to his immediate defense—that struck a chord as well. He knew they liked him, knew they thought he was a good employee, but he hadn’t known that they respected him enough to snap like that.

If he gave the new hire the most tediously boring accounts he could find after it all—well. It could have been a coincidence.

Even though Hoseok didn’t work in a department that dealt directly with Kim-Min groups, comeback season was nearly palpable. There was an undercurrent of excitement from his officemates in accounting as some of their favorite artists began releasing teasers and schedules. They began to see billings related to stages and shoots, and Hoseok, with greater responsibilities as a result of the promotion, handled quite few of them on his own. The number of zeroes on them made his head spin, still, but spending so much time with Yoongi and Namjoon had led him to a better understanding of the massive amount of investment that went into what they hoped would be the next big thing.

Comeback season was exciting, sure. But it did mean seeing less of Yoongi. Much less.

Hoseok waved at Seojoon as he got off the elevator, smiling in thanks as he buzzed him into Yoongi’s office without needing to be asked. Hoseok had been visiting more lately, if only to force Yoongi to drink water instead of coffee or to massage his tense shoulders and nose against his neck to give him a momentary distraction from his work.

Today, though, he came with purpose. He greeted Yoongi with a soft smile before coming around, pressing a soft kiss to his temple before wrapping his arms around his shoulders. “Taehyungie and I are having a sleepover. You’re welcome to join when you get home.”

“I think I’ll stay here tonight,” Yoongi dismissed, barely looking away from his monitor.

“Yoongi,” Hoseok intoned, giving him a look that was enough to make Yoongi take a guilty pause, giving him his attention. “The couch is bad for your back, I don’t want you sore all day for an extra hour of work.”

“It’s not that bad! I picked it so I could sleep on it. You sleep on it.”

“Yeah, for a nap.”

“I don’t sleep much more than that.”

“Yoongi.” Hoseok gave him a stern look, coming back around to sit in one of the chairs across from the desk.

Yoongi winced, taking a deep breath and offering his hand, shoulders relaxing when Hoseok took it in his own. Even if Yoongi’s isolation during comeback season was self-imposed, it didn’t erase the lack of touch he usually got from the rest of the pack, Hoseok included.

Hoseok tutted, squeezing his hand and brushing his thumb over Yoongi’s soft inner wrist. “Come home tonight. Sleep in a real bed.”

“I’ll try,” Yoongi mumbled. It was as good as Hoseok was going to get without needling so he took it as a victory.

“What a good hyung you are,” he teased, laughing as Yoongi huffed. “Such a good hyung!"

“Stop, menace—”

“Mm, not menace.”

“Baby,” Yoongi corrected.

Even if it was what he was aiming for, Hoseok felt his cheeks pink hearing the name. “Better.”

“Better—?”

“Better, my honey—” Hoseok laughed at Yoongi’s grimace. “My love, my sweetie, my busy, busy bee.”

“Aish, begone—”

“I think I’ll stay,” Hoseok grinned, sitting back in his chair and letting go of his hand. “If that’s okay?”

Yoongi pouted at the loss of touch but nodded once, already turning back to his screen. Hoseok didn’t mind the lack of attention in the slightest—Yoongi’s passion was one of his (many) favorite things about him. It was nice to watch him work, or even just sit with him in silence. Hoseok stole a pair of earbuds from a drawer and settled back down, watching clips Jimin had sent him and sending question marks at the memes Jungkook was wrongly convinced he’d understand.

He sighed when it was time for him to leave, huffing a fond laugh when Yoongi jumped at the sudden sound. “Forget I was here, Yoongichi?”

“Never,” Yoongi lied. “Are you leaving?”

“Mm, just downstairs. Jimin booked a room.”

Yoongi nodded before tilting his chin up—Hoseok knew exactly what he wanted, but blinked owlishly at him. “Mm,” Yoongi grumbled.

“What’s that, hyung? I didn’t catch—”

“Hob-ah.”

“I suppose I should get going, hyung, I—”

“Scent me,” Yoongi huffed, a stubborn set to his pout even as he blushed.

“Oh, are you sure—”

“Hobi—”

Hoseok laughed and came around the desk, plopping onto his lap to rub his face in the crook of Yoongi’s neck before adjusting to nose against his scent gland, trading his own moss-and-mint for orange-and-bergamot. Yoongi sighed, quiet and content, his arms looping around Hoseok’s waist until the omega pulled back, running a hand through Yoongi’s dark hair.

“I’ll see you at home?”

Yoongi pursed his lips for a moment before nodding once. A promise.

Hoseok didn’t stop grinning as he went downstairs, stomach fluttering pleasantly the whole way.

-

He watched himself in the mirror, eyes fiery as he moved. Sweat wasn’t making him dewy and alluring, just drenched with wet patches all over; his heaving breaths weren’t indicative of some heated affair, just served as evidence of his developing stamina; his legs ached, his chest hurt, his blood rushed, and Hoseok had never been happier.

It hadn’t taken much convincing to get him to a Kim-Min dance studio, even at first. All Jimin had to do was promise an empty room and control of the music.

It was hardly Hoseok’s first time dancing, but it was the first in years. One of the saving graces of his childhood was the studio only a few blocks from his home—it offered free classes to some talented students and Hoseok had been lucky (beyond lucky) to receive a scholarship. He had dreamed of making a career out of it when he was younger, but there wasn’t a place for an underfed omega in skeevy underground circuits, much less professional companies that weren’t omega-friendly contemporary and ballet. Hoseok had tried those out, sure, but nothing—nothing—called to him more than hip hop. Even in a practice room that reeked of alpha, with leering eyes and critical grimaces on him and him alone, nothing had made him more alive and free.

The scholarships ended with graduation, and his teachers generously pretended to not see the tears of one of their favorite students as he left the studio for the last time. He had already been working the streets for a couple years by then and even with the appeal of being young and pretty enough, he never managed to make enough for his father and substantial food, much less dance classes. It was a loss, for sure, of something that made Hoseok’s teenagehood much more bearable, something that brought him joy.

But now—with a job he loved, three meals a day, his courtship with Yoongi, being with Namjoon’s pack in general, there was a surplus of joy in Hoseok’s life. And Jimin had provided yet another thing that made Hoseok’s life so, so much more than he ever thought it would be.

Jimin let out a loud whoop as the song wrapped up and Hoseok pulled another familiar if out-of-practice final pose, a bright grin on his face that he knew was co*cky but he was good and knew he was good and couldn’t find it in him to be apologetic.

Jimin laughed and jumped on him from behind, standing on tiptoes just enough to rest his chin on Hoseok’s shoulder, kissing his sweaty cheek. “Hobi-hyung, I might be a little bit in love with you.”

Hoseok laughed loud and grabbed Jimin’s arms, hoisting him into a semi-piggy back ride. “Should have got to me sooner.”

“Hyung didn’t give me a chance. Isn’t that right?”

It was right, but Jimin was looking elsewhere. Hoseok furrowed his brows and was about to ask when he saw a shadow lingering in the doorway, take-out bags in his hand and a slack-jawed expression on his face. Hoseok shrieked, half-throwing Jimin off his back as he scrambled back, a hand over his pounding heart. “Oh!”

Yoongi didn’t respond, just stared at him with that same blank expression.

“That’s from down the street, right?” Jimin asked, unperturbed by his swift ejection from Hoseok’s back. “I’ll get chopsticks from the break room, they always forget them—”

Jimin disappeared and Yoongi remained. Hoseok felt himself blush as he remembered what he looked like—in sweaty, loose clothes with birds-nest hair. Regardless of how comfortable he felt around Yoongi, he couldn’t help the mild turn of his stomach at the courting alpha seeing him in such a state.

He opened his mouth to apologize but then—

All at once, Yoongi dropped the bags on the floor, rushing forth with a single-minded purpose, his eyes dark as he met Hoseok’s, his hands warm as they held his waist, his lips—

It took Hoseok a moment to respond, the shock of the experience sending frantic sparks to his brain and nose and fingers and spine. Before he could kiss him back in earnest, Yoongi pulled away, looking at him with such clear awe and devotion that any words he could possibly say stuck in his throat, ghosts of phrases that could never, ever express what ran through him.

It was the first time Yoongi had kissed him, the first time Hoseok had ever kissed anyone romantically, the first time he knew—knew, knew—Yoongi was it.

“Hi,” Yoongi whispered, close enough that his breath brushed Hoseok’s cheek.

“Hi,” Hoseok whispered back.

Nothing more was needed. Not when their lips met each other again.

-

Hobi!: hey baby im sorry i have to cancel our sleepover

Taehyungie: ??? Ndhhdjsnnc ???? 😭☹️ ?

Hobi: yoongi kissed me

Taehyungie: YORKFN GNELOE????

Taehyungie: OK!!!!!!

Taehyungie: OK!!! ?? OK??

Hobi: :)

Taehyungie: AH

Chapter 17

Chapter Text

“Hobi?” Taehyung whispered, arms wrapped around his skinny frame as he peeked down the dark alley. “Hyung?”

Hoseok made sure his back was turned to him as he coughed deeply, spitting on the ground one more time before rubbing his red eyes and his mouth, trying to look at least a little more human. A little more okay. No matter how hard he tried, though, his smile would never be convincing.

“Hyung’s okay, baby. don’t worry.”

Taehyung looked at him with obvious skepticism. If taehyung didn’t believe him—Taehyung, who was so sweet and honest and trusting and never questioned what his hyung said—then he must have been really bad off. “I don’t think you’re okay, hyungie.”

Hoseok stared at him for a moment before squeezing his eyes closed. The tears stung his eyes, more painful than the bruises themselves. “f*ck. f*ck, Tae, I’m fine, it’s—”

He flinched away from Taehyung’s touch like some startled pup, and embarrassment at his reaction and at being called out made his cheeks burn. But Taehyung just put his hand on his shoulder, so gently, the gentlest person Hoseok had ever known, and pulled him close.

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok choked out. He couldn’t bring himself to pull away from him and buried his face in Taehyung’s scrawny shoulder. “You—you shouldn’t have to deal with this, baby, you—f*ck, it doesn’t—it doesn’t usually get to me like this, you know it doesn’t, I don’t know why—”

“S’okay,” Taehyung soothed. He rubbed his back as Hoseok tried to choke back another sob, only making himself sound more destroyed in the process. “I’ll take care of you.”

“I should be taking care of you,” Hoseok objected. He hadn’t been good at many things in his life, but he’d been a good hyung to Tae, a good friend, and he’d managed to f*ck up even that.

“Let me be good to you for once, okay? How much did they give you?”

“Uh—” Hoseok’s breathed out shakily. “Eighty thou each.”

“I have forty on me. Want to split a room for the night?

“Tae, baby—”

“I can deal with one night’s loss, hyung, and you only needed to make a hundred fifty minimum, and if there were three—”

Hoseok didn’t have it in him to fight. The thought of a shower and a bed and a f*cking break, just one, for once, was too tempting to ignore. “Fine. Yeah, I—please. Thank you.”

In an insane, beautiful coincidence, one of the maids at the cheap love hotel owed Taehyung a favor. Taehyung insisted she didn’t, that watching Chaewon’s kids for her the other week had been nothing but a treat, but his words died when she let them into a room with a huge tub and plush bed and told them that, whoops, someone must have left early, it looked like the room had six—

“Mm,” she said, clicking a few things on the screen with pouty lips, “twelve hours paid, isn’t that something.”

Taehyung beamed and swooped her up in a hug. “You’re my favorite noona in the entire world, thank you!”

She shoved him off good naturedly and gave him a fond look before turning to Hoseok. He saw her face shift into something much more pitying, taking in his bruised face, his split lip, his entire body and demeanor, presumably. “If I find any good stuff left behind I’ll send it your way.”

Taehyung flopped on the bed as soon as the doors closed, starfishing out on the red sheets. “Wanna take a bath?”

“Yeah,” Hoseok sighed. Cleaning up after gangb*ngs was always awful. Discovering every single mark that had been left on and in his body was almost not worth being clean. “You don’t mind waiting?”

“Course not. This bed is, like, fifty times better than mine, I could lay here forever.”

Hoseok ran the water hotter than he knew was smart, but the comfort would make up for the extra sting. He hissed as he sank down, splashing water over his face and hair as soon as he was settled. Maybe later he’d be able to take an actual bath, but as it was, all he wanted to do was the scrub the night off him and hope that the memory of it went down the drain, too.

He hadn’t been lying to Taehyung. It didn’t usually get to him, all the sex and whoring and beatings and whatever. But everyone had their breaking point, he guessed. His just happened to be a brutal foursome that left him bruised and bleeding, throwing up on the sidewalk after they dropped him back off. If he hadn’t been so exhausted afterwards maybe he would have tried to up his price, but as soon as they finally stopped f*cking him and cut his rough bindings, he just wanted out.

He gave his face a quick scrub before reaching between his legs. He bit back a pained cry when he touched his sensitive—everything, his puss* and ass and thighs and everywhere they touched f*cking hurt.

Taehyung caught his eye in one of the seemingly hundred mirrors around the room. He was still on the bed, biting his lip as he watched Hoseok’s reflection. “Hyung? Can I help you?”

Hoseok knew he should say no, that he shouldn’t ask his baby to take care of him like that, that he shouldn’t let him see how bad it was, how bad it could be, how bad the things Hoseok tried desperately to keep Taehyung from really were. Those three had been asking for Tae, before. Hoseok would have killed and died before he let that happen.

“Yeah,” he whispered. He felt pathetic, defeated, humiliated, and yet—

Taehyung gave him his bright, boxy smile, stripping off his shirt and carelessly throwing it to the ground. “Can I get in, please?”

Hoseok nodded, carefully adjusting to give his big baby more room. Taehyung climbed in only a little clumsily, immediately pulling himself between Hoseok’s legs.

Hoseok sighed and laced their fingers together for a moment. “Thanks, Tae.”

“Course.” His eye-crinkling smile almost convinced Hoseok that it was par for the course, some acceptable thing Taehyung would do for anyone. Taehyung grabbed a washcloth from beside the bath before making a face and throwing the coarse fabric to the side. Even if he thought Taehyung using his hands to clean him was beyond too much to ask, he breathed a sigh of relief. “Wanna hear my idea?”

“Mm, what’s your idea?” Hoseok jumped a little, hissing quietly as the first touch came.

“I was thinking—” Two of Tae’s fingers carefully, carefully, hooked inside his puss*, gently cleaning out the mess of slick, cum, lube, and an on-the-verge-of-worrying amount of blood. “After this, let’s drain the tub and run it again with bubbles and stuff, we can put a movie on and watch from here.”

His gentle hands moved to Hoseok’s ass and he really couldn’t help the sad whine that escaped him. Taehyung didn’t stop, didn’t ask if he was okay, didn’t force him to acknowledge what he had gone through and Hoseok was grateful. “Y-yeah. The, uh. The only—movies here are p*rnos, though, remember?”

Tae shrugged dismissively. “We can find one with a plot.”

“We can’t,” Hoseok smiled, shivering as Taehyung pulled his fingers out to clean around his holes more thoroughly.

Taehyung pulled the drain to let the water out and stood, holding out his hands to help Hoseok up in turn. He wrapped a towel around his shoulders before Hoseok could do it himself, too, giving him a boxy grin and leaning to nose their noses together. “Sit down while the bath runs again, kay? You find a something to watch and I’ll put that ointment on you.”

“Aish, baby, you don’t have to do that—”

“I want to, Hobi-hyung, please let me? You always take such good care of me, I wanna take care of you, too. I’m not that much younger.” He was nearly two years younger and, to Hoseok, it felt like a large enough gap to be a century. He must have looked ready to say something about it because Taehyung’s pout increased tenfold. “Or maybe you can be the most indulgent hyung in the world and let me.”

“Fine,” Hoseok sighed. “Just, you know—quick.”

Taehyung smiled brightly, turning the water back on and handing the television remote to Hoseok, kneeling in front of him with a nearly-empty tube of the best salve they could afford.

Hoseok clicked through til he found something that was, of course, primarily a p*rno but also had some sort of historical plot that he thought could be fun to stomach. He sighed and pet Taehyung’s soft hair while he applied the ointment, smiling a little when his sweet puppy looked up with his bright, happy eyes.

God, he was so—good. He was so good as a person and a friend and an omega, and Hoseok would do anything to preserve that as much as he could. Taehyung would always be good, obviously, of course, but it was the world around him that he needed to worry about. He deserved to be warm and fed and taken care of, deserved to be happy, to have a better family. He deserved so much more than Hoseok could provide, but he did his damndest.

Taehyung kissed Hoseok’s knee sweetly as he finished, laughing when Hoseok cooed and ruffled his hair.

“Thank you, baby,” he said, quiet and heavier than he usually allowed himself to be. “Hyung loves you very much.”

Taehyung blinked a few times, a little taken aback. “I know, Hobi-hyung. I love you, too.”

Hoseok smiled and tugged him onto his lap, snuggling the bigger omega as close as he could, delighting in the joyful, childish laughs he let out. “Let’s cuddle in the bath and watch this stupid movie, come on.”

-

Hoseok had been in bed for hours but sleep refused to take him.

With Yoongi sleeping soundly under his arm on one side and Taehyung snoring softly with his legs thrown over Hoseok’s on the other, he thought he should feel stuck. Literally, sure, but their presences were welcome and comforting and he couldn’t imagine two better people to be caught between. Metaphorically, though, he thought he should feel like he was clinging onto his past while gripping the future, like he couldn’t decide, couldn’t let go of one to embrace the other.

But Yoongi and Taehyung were both his future. Taehyung, his little baby who he loved and cared for and sobbed over when he sent him away, was sleeping in his arms so many years later. Yoongi, the alpha who was courting him, who didn’t mind when Taehyung clambered all over them both and played music for him and had an obsession with the mole on his lip—just a part of it, sure, but Yoongi was his future.

Hoseok made the decision with a clear mind, without feeling stuck between past and present, without feeling like he had to.

“Joonie?” Hoseok said the next evening as he watched Namjoon collect his things in the office. Namjoon hummed distractedly as he searched for his keys. “I need help.”

-

As clear-headed as Hoseok had been when he decided to go through with it, he still felt nauseous as they pulled up to the run-down apartment building he’d lived in for so long. There was no way to tell if his father was home—he didn’t have a car to spot and the lights in the front room were hardly ever on, and Hoseok hadn’t been there in half a year. His father’s work schedule could have changed in that time.

As much as he would like to say that he was a strong omega who didn’t need an alpha’s protection, he was endlessly glad that Namjoon was there with him. Hoseok’s heart still raced, sure, he still felt like he was inviting trouble because he was, but Namjoon’s presence was comforting. He trusted Namjoon with his life, even when he wasn’t really a part of the Kim pack, regardless of what Jin wanted to believe.

He deliberately didn’t tell anyone else where he was going. Jin, Jimin and Jungkook would have just worried or tried to talk him out of it; Yoongi and Taehyung would have insisted on coming along and Hoseok wanted neither of them anywhere near his father (Taehyung just to protect him, Yoongi to protect his fists because his tiny, sweet, protective alpha would have fought on sight). But Namjoon was even-keeled and no-nonsense, and that was exactly what Hoseok needed.

And, if his father didn’t answer the door, Namjoon had the strength to break in.

Hoseok wasn’t sure what he had been hoping for, really. If his father wasn’t home, it was an in-and-out operation, able to grab what he needed and go before he came back. But if he was—if he was, what? There was no actual benefit that Hoseok could conceive of, not even something fake and fantastical and bizarrely unrealistic. But even with that in mind, he still had some odd sort of hope that—maybe it would be different. Maybe his father would surprise him. Maybe—maybe he’d open the door and somehow it would just be different.

But he knocks, his father opens the door, looks between him and Namjoon, and steps aside to let them in. He sat back on the couch, some variety show playing on the tiny television that had been there since Hoseok’s childhood, and didn’t acknowledge them more than that.

They were both silent as Namjoon closed the door behind him, watching Hoseok walk down the short hallway to his room. It was dusty, the air stale; it hadn’t changed at all since he left. He felt numb as he gathered what he came for. His little treasures, ones he’d managed to keep over the years, ones he allowed himself to have sentimentality for. Pictures of his mother and sister.

There weren’t many—one in a frame of the four of them together, before things had really, truly soured, with Hoseok and Jiwoo smiling all bright and youthful, despite the more solemn, tense nature of their parents behind them. A few of him and his sister together, some of just his mother, just five pictures in total that were frayed at the edges from time and nights spent crying over them, wishing that he had more, or, even better, that his mother had taken him with them.

It was something he’d never be able to really and truly put aside, he thought. He knew it was because she had to choose, she could only save one of them, his sister was in more imminent danger—but still. He was just a child, practically a baby, and he was left in the jaws of a vicious wolf.

But he’d never be able to put aside how much he loved them, and it was strong enough to overpower any residual anger at his mother just doing her best.

He found the cash Namjoon had given him so many months ago stowed under his mattress, proof that his father hadn’t suspected he’d had anything hidden away. After a moment’s consideration, he left the stack on the bed. It was enough for a few weeks’ rent. A parting gift, maybe. An apology for being the son he was.

Hoseok felt numb as he left his room, walking in front of his father briefly to get the last picture and half expecting a bottle to be thrown at his head. The last picture had been overturned, left face down on the ground for years. His mother, beautiful, gorgeous, youthful and smiling.

He glanced at Namjoon and nodded. His father didn’t even look at him as they left. It was like he didn’t exist, just some useless ghost floating through his life that wasn’t important enough to give a second glance. It was like he didn’t care and, honestly, he didn’t.

They were silent as they drove back to the pack house. Namjoon drove carefully through the Seoul rain, and Hoseok stared out the window as he resolutely didn’t look at the things in his lap. He felt nothing, numb and empty and hollow, the entire drive. But as soon as they pulled into the drive, he broke. Maybe it was seeing his real home that did it, maybe it was just his feelings crashing down on him, but either way—

He barely noticed the first tears as they rolled down his cheeks but as soon as Namjoon said, so gently and kindly and caringly, “Hobah?” he broke.

Sobs wracked his body as he lost his composure. It was loud and messy and embarrassing and Namjoon just reached over the console to hold him close as much as he could. It took a few moments before he was able to speak but apparently the sobbed please against Namjoon’s chest wasn’t quite enough for him to understand.

“Please what, Hoseokie?” he whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple and bringing out another sob.

“Please—bite me, please, I want—I—”

Namjoon stilled, not quite long enough for Hoseok to worry that he’d overstepped. “You want a pack bite?”

“Please—I—”

Namjoon didn’t make him wait. He took his right hand in his own, bringing his wrist up to his mouth, and bit down, sinking his teeth into his skin forcefully but cleanly, almost practiced with five pack bites under his belt. It burned, he felt like fire was rushing through his veins, making his heart beat faster. There was something else there, too, though. There was a subtle undercurrent that he recognized with a sudden thrill was the others, it was the pack—the rest of the pack, because he was part of them now, he wondered if they could feel him now too.

Jin was there, he could tell it was Jin, even though it was just a feeling of comfort, and there was a feeling that was so clearly Namjoon’s endless stability. Jimin was there, too, with a little bit of tight-chested excitement, Taehyung’s steady sense of belonging, Jungkook’s sheer enthusiasm for life. Yoongi was just—entirely new. Hoseok could pick out calmness with a strong passion that managed to not be contradictory. He was clearly a rock in their pack, just as they all were, really, not just Namjoon, and the rush of love and respect that Hoseok felt for him was almost overwhelming.

Namjoon carefully lapped the blood from his wrist, pressing a kiss to the center of the bite apologetically. “It heals quick,” he promised.

Hoseok wiped the tears from his eyes with his other hand, giving him a shaky smile. “Thank you.”

He clicked his tongue as he looked at the bite; Hoseok could see the pride in his smile. “We’ve been waiting for you, you know? We already talked about it. Hell, we talked about it before you moved in.”

“You’re joking,” Hoseok laughed a little. He still felt sick and shaky but he was recovering, faster than he ever thought he could.

“I’m not,” he said, giving him a look of warm honestly. “I’m really not. Can you imagine Jinnie not wanting to steal you away? The second he met you it was over, Seokie. Not to mention Taehyung—”

“Yeah, well,” Hoseok rubbed his eyes once more. “Thanks for—this.”

Namjoon kissed his wrist again, the sap, before letting him go. “Let’s go see who already figured it out, huh?”

(Everyone had. Obviously.)

Chapter 18

Chapter Text

Hoseok was having a recurring dream. Not the same dream, necessarily, but the same premise, for better or for worse. Sometimes he was in a life or death situation, terror settling deep in his stomach, his unconscious mind unable to come up with a way out, leaving him sweating and kicking his blankets off and trying to escape the unescapable—and then, something would come through, and a sharp pain in his wrist would solve it instantly, erase the nightmare, allow him to curl into the feeling and tuck himself into it like a shell. Other times he’ll be floating, a dream within a dream, looking around and seeing people he knows are the Kim pack, whether or not they stay the same or their figures shift in the way that dreams allow. It’ll be a great dream, a restful, happy one, and even then—there’s a sharp pain, one that brings even more peace, more sleepy happiness.

They’re two ends of the spectrum and so many nights bring something in between, but there’s always that. The bite.

He can’t believe it’s real, more often than not. It was still healing, of course, it had been barely two weeks and it took a while for a bite like that to settle into a lasting scar. If there was magic in the world, it was definitely behind bites, and even more so behind bites that meant so much.

Though it was the imprint of Namjoon’s teeth, Hoseok could feel everyone now. Their essences had settled into him immediately after—Namjoon’s stability, Jin’s comfort, Yoongi’s peace, Jimin’s care, Taehyung’s belongingness, Jungkook’s enthusiasm—but as time went on, he began to understand what being a pack really meant.

He had always seen packs as security, first and foremost, especially chosen packs. They weren’t too common to come across when he was growing up, with most packs in his seedy area being born-familial and other units deciding to not call themselves a pack at all. But Hoseok had longed to be in a pack as a child under his father’s fist—he wanted that sense of security, of stability, of being chosen instead of being a burden, and now that he had it, there was so much more that he couldn’t even name.

In books, in shows, in movies, he had learned about what he thought was a lofty fantasy. A pack knowing each other so well that they could meet each others’ needs before they were spoken (he thought of Namjoon with a pot of coffee, pouring a fresh cup for Yoongi without even looking to see if he needed one), that they could tell what the others were feeling (Jungkook, pressing a kiss to Taehyung’s temple, covering his eyes to shield his headache from the light, no words spoken between them), what the others were thinking (Jin giving Hoseok a stern look when Taehyung brought up the idea of a weekend vacation, telling him he’d get someone to fire him if he didn’t seriously consider taking one day off).

It all seemed like a fantastical myth, but now—Hoseok thumbed the bite on his wrist absentmindedly, and even as he sat at his desk frowning at data sheets, it brought him more natural comfort than he ever thought was possible. His noona-nim could tease him for it all she wanted—she ruined it for herself early on, telling him about her own magical bite experience. He already knew she was soft for the whole thing.

Something had been bothering him about the bite all day, however, and he couldn’t quite put a finger on it. Someone, he wasn’t sure who, was feeling uncomfortable? Hot? Irritated? Some other kind of stress or low-level anger or impending sickness? It wasn’t pronounced enough to be much of a distraction, but still. It bothered him to know that something was wrong, and he couldn’t fix it. Knowing through the bite was handy when you knew how to help—knew who to help even—but when there weren’t more specifics to go on, it led (or led Hoseok, at least) to feeling almost helpless, unable to help a packmate when, as their pack, it should be possible.

But even as the workday ended, no one had texted the group chat about the feeling, so everything was—normal, he supposed. Or, more likely, everyone was attuned to the pack bite and knew not to worry. He hoped that was the case, otherwise something may be wrong and no one thought to tell him. Or, he fretted as he made his way upstairs to Yoongi’s office, maybe he was the problem. Was he feeling ill? Or off? He didn’t feel sore or sick at all, was his body trying to tell him something?

He had worked himself up just enough to worry out loud as Yoongi’s receptionist buzzed him in when he froze.

Yoongi looked fine. He sounded fine, gave Hoseok his normal “Hi, Seok-ah, just wrapping up.” He seemed fine.

Even though there was a very, very obvious undercurrent of impending rut to his scent.

His orange-and-bergamot was almost cloying, heady in a way that made Hoseok’s head foggy and his mouth water. Every feeling of someone else’s discomfort he’d had throughout the day, the heat, the irritability, even the occasional scratchiness, made too much sense.

He processed it all too quickly for Yoongi to even notice his mounting trepidation. “Hyung—hyung, I’m—going, I’ll see you at home.”

Yoongi looked up with a pout. “I’ll be done in five minutes, sure you don’t want to wait?”

“No—” Hoseok took a step back, gripping the strap of his bag. “Sorry—sorry, I’ll, uh—”

“Okay,” Yoongi said. “Want me to call a car?”

“No,” he said, taking another step back. “I want some air, I’ll—walk. I’ll see you later.”

Hoseok could feel his worry through the bite, but Yoongi made no attempt to convince him otherwise. “I might work for a little more, if that’s the case. Text me when you get home, okay?”

“Yeah—I will. Yeah, thanks—”

“Love you!” Yoongi called, the door already closing behind Hoseok.

He couldn’t leave that unanswered, no matter how unsettled he felt. He caught the door just enough to call back, “Love you, bye—” before letting it shut behind him. He took a moment to lean against it before taking a deep breath and setting off. He hadn’t lied, he was going to walk home, he needed the fresh air, and the space—he needed space to figure out what the f*ck he was going to do.

Taehyung picked up on the first ring.

“Tell me what’s going on,” he said.

“No hello?” Hoseok asked, giving a breathy laugh as he walked down the street. “No 'hi, hyung, how was your day?'” Taehyung didn’t answer and Hoseok sighed. “How do you know something’s wrong, anyway?”

“Can feel it. Tell me, please? You being worried makes me worried.” Taehyung spoke to someone, conversation muffled.

“You’re at work, aren’t you? I’m sorry—”

“It’s fine, hyung, I promise. Hair and makeup are done, I’m just waiting to be called onto set. It was even done early, so I have a little while. I’ll go when I need to.”

Hoseok felt like he should tsk and tell him to put worry aside, to let hyung do his own fretting, that it was nothing—but if he couldn’t talk to Taehyung, he was at a loss. “Yoongi-hyung’s in pre.”

“Ah!” Taehyung gasped. “I was wondering who. I was hoping it was JK, but—”

“Taehyungie,” Hoseok interrupted, knowing he’d never stop if he got tangent about his sex life. “I don’t know how to handle this.”

Taehyung quieted for a moment. “Walk me through what you’re thinking. I’ll listen.”

“I’m thinking—” Hoseok took a deep breath, loosening his tie. “I’m thinking that he’ll want me to spend it with him and that—even if it’s unfounded, that I’ll be expected to spend it with him. And it’s not that I don’t want to have sex—” He caught an older woman’s eye as he passed her on the sidewalk and went red, lowering his voice quickly. “I want to have sex with him but I’ve never—I haven’t been with anyone during their rut and it’s—I don’t know, it’s stupid considering—” he waved his hand, though Taehyung couldn’t see him. “It’s intimidating. And—”

“And?” Taehyung prompted.

“And what if—if I do spend it with him or if I don’t, what if he realizes I’m not what he wants?”

“Hyung,” he said, voice gentle. It made Hoseok feel worse. He was the hyung. He should be the gentle one coaxing his pup out of sexual crises. “I’m very willing to bet he has no expectations about his rut. He barely ever realizes it’s happening before it hits. And you also said the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard in my life—”

“Tae-yah, I’m serious,” Hoseok said quietly. “Even if it’s stupid, it’s—I’m feeling it.”

“Sorry, hyung,” Taehyung said, audibly softening. “I don’t think there’s a world where Yoongi-hyung wouldn’t want you, including this one. Especially this one. Why would his rut make that any different?”

Hoseok sighed, sitting on a vacant bench. “I don’t know. I’m worried it’ll bring out, like, crazy fantasies he doesn’t want with me, or make him realize he’s in love with someone at the office, or just—shake him out of loving me at all.”

“You should talk to him about it,” Taehyung said sensibly, interrupting Hoseok’s predictable whine. “I know. But otherwise you’ll just drown in anxiety and it’ll all bubble over at the most inconvenient moment. And this way I can beat him up if he says anything wrong.”

Hoseok snorted. “Please don’t beat up my boyfriend, baby, I’d really appreciate it.”

“Mm, well.”

“Taehyungie—”

“Mm, I hear you, I’m being called—”

“No, you’re not!” Hoseok laughed.

“Oh, what’s that? Need me on set immediately right now? Sure! Bye, hyung!”

Hoseok was still laughing when he hung up. He knew Taehyung was right. He knew they should talk about it.

But f*ck, did he not want to.

-

He hadn’t made it that far from the Kim-Min building and doubled back easily—though it took significantly longer to get back than it had taken to leave. He wasn’t filled with dread so much as an ongoing petulant inner-monologue of I don’t want to. Still, he was an adult who was in a steady, healthy, communicative relationship—one who maybe made too many detours to stall, but he was one nonetheless.

Perhaps he took one too many detours, however, because when the elevator doors opened up to Yoongi’s floor, Yoongi himself was on the other side.

He was in such a nice, fitted suit, with a tie Hoseok had picked out for him, and his recently-dyed silver hair had been unstyled by the day’s work and Hoseok wanted nothing more than to run his hands through it teasingly but.

“Hi, hyung,” he said weakly.

“Baby,” Yoongi said, and Hoseok felt gooey inside, melted by his voice. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah—” he said quickly, fully prepared to brush it off. The elevator doors closed as Yoongi stepped in and leaned beside him, his overpowering scent reminded Hoseok why he was there in the first place. “I mean. I am. But—” he squirmed, whining a little when Yoongi didn’t magically understand what the problem was. “You’re in pre, hyung.”

It appeared Taehyung was right—Yoongi blinked, genuinely surprised. “I am? I guess it’s around time to—” he blinked again, looking up at him with some amount of understanding. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Aish,” Hoseok breathed out, having to laugh. “You and Taehyung both—”

“You talked to Taehyungie about this?” he asked. There was no judgement in his voice, no aggravation. “What’d he say?”

“To talk to you.” He sighed. As heavy as his scent was, it was also so—inviting, familiar, good, just as it always was. He gave in and leaned on his side, resting his head on his shoulder. “I’d tell you two to talk together but you’d just end up calling me stupid—”

“I would never!” Yoongi said indignantly.

“I know,” Hoseok interrupted with a laugh. “Taehyungie might.”

“I wouldn’t let that stand, Hoseokie, not that he would either—”

Hoseok waved his hand, shaking his head against his shoulder. “That’s not the point I’m trying to make—” The elevator dinged as it topped and made Hoseok remember, very abruptly, that they were on a public elevator at their workplace. “We should talk somewhere not here, huh?”

Yoongi grinned and rubbed his shoulder before taking a step to the side, saving the newcomer from too much inappropriate conduct.

Even knowing the conversation that was to come, Hoseok felt closer to normal than he had all day. Yoongi’s fingers brushed his as they walked side by side out the lobby, talking about the new poki place Hoseok had tried for lunch. When they reached the parking garage, Yoongi opened the car door for Hoseok, ignoring the routine “oh, my, thank you, kind gentle-alpha” he got in return. When they got home, it didn’t take much effort to sneak upstairs without being noticed, and took less effort to collapse on Hoseok’s bed, still in work clothes.

Their hands found each others’, Hoseok’s fingers tracing the silver rings Yoongi tended to wear.

“So?” Yoongi prompted quietly.

“So,” Hoseok sighed. “Your rut’s coming up.”

“It is,” Yoongi agreed, hooking his pinky around Hoseok’s.

Hoseok swallowed, looking up at his ceiling. There were glow in the dark stars above his bed; Taehyung had gifted them, Jungkook had put them up in constellations. Yoongi’s Pisces swam above Hoseok’s Aquarius. He took a moment to figure out what he wanted to start with and Yoongi didn’t try to rush him. Just stargazed with him, in Hoseok’s little nest.

“Do you want me to spend it with you?” he landed on.

“No.” Yoongi’s answer was immediate.

Regardless of what answer Hoseok had expected, the rejection stung. “Oh.”

He must have sounded—confused, maybe, or strangled or hurt, because Yoongi gave his pinky a comforting squeeze. “I don’t want that to be our first time. I don’t want our first time to be during pre, either, before you say it.”

Hoseok huffed out a laugh. “That’s—good. That makes sense.”

“Did you want to spend it with me?” Yoongi asked, looking over at him with furrowed brows.

Hoseok sighed, looking back at him. “No. Not really. I just—worry about it, in general. Can’t help it.”

“Sure.” Yoongi nodded, blinked a few times. Nervous, Hoseok could tell. “You can say no, obviously—uh.”

“Spit it out, hyung,” Hoseok smiled at the whine of complaint Yoongi let out when he unhooked their pinkies, though he quieted as Hoseok turned onto his side, putting an arm around his waist.

“I would—if you’d like to, I mean—”

“Hyung,” Hoseok grinned, reaching up to cup his soft cheek.

“I’d love it if you were—around me, for some of it. I get more tired than anything, I just end up—binge watching whatever show catches my attention and bothering Jinnie-hyung to bring me snacks.”

“So, you want me to—?'“

“Maybe—cuddle?” Yoongi sounded shy and Hoseok didn’t bother to hold back his charmed coo, encouraged by Yoongi’s blush and whiny "Stop!"

“Hyung is so sweet—” he said, pinching his cheek. “My pretty alpha wants to cuddle?”

“If my omega will let me,” Yoongi pouted.

Hoseok’s heart fluttered at my omega. It wasn’t entirely unexpected, given how much he loved Yoongi, how unprecedented that love was, but it was still just—nice, to be the recipient of that love and affection and pure want. “I’ll think about it, okay?” he said after a moment of consideration.

Yoongi nodded, turning on his side to face him.

He was so obvious about it, in a way that made Hoseok almost gleeful—he glanced to Hoseok’s lips with what he was sure Yoongi thought was subtle want, but so close and so familiar, Hoseok could see him all too clearly. “Kiss kiss?”

Yoongi gave him a look at his intentional aegyo but still leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Hoseok sighed into it happily; even if Yoongi had been the one to so obviously want it, Hoseok couldn’t imagine anything better than doing exactly this at exactly that moment.

-

“Hyung!” Jungkook whined, making grabby hands for Hoseok as soon as he saw him.

“God,” he faux-complained, even as he walked over to him, throwing his arms around his shoulders. “This kid, always wants something, doesn’t he—”

“Uh-huh,” Jungkook agreed, already grabbing what he was truly after. Hoseok laughed and let him take his wrist, kissed the baby alpha’s hair as he scented it with almost aggressive enthusiasm.

“You saw me a few hours ago, baby,” Hoseok said fondly.

“Uh-huh,” Jungkook agreed, rubbing his cheek over the still-healing bite before letting him go with a satisfied hum. “But Jiminie saw you after me.”

“And Yoongi-hyung saw me after all of you, silly boy, but I don’t hear you complaining about that.”

“Well, course not,” Jungkook pouted up at him, leaning back onto his chest. “You always smell like yourself first, hyung second, and then we have to fight for who gets third.”

Hoseok laughed, kissing his hair once more before pushing him gently forward, going around to his self-assigned place on the couch with the full intention of spending an hour or so doing nothing at all. Namjoon’s appearance wasn’t about to stop him, even as the alpha sat close beside him, gently borrowing his hand to bring up to his nose.

Hoseok couldn’t help but laugh, stretching his legs out over Namjoon’s lap. “You too?”

Jungkook didn’t bother pausing his game as he spun around to look at them with accusatory betrayal. “Joonie-hyung! I just scented him!”

Namjoon, the stable, strong, diplomatic pack alpha, stuck his tongue out at him.

Hoseok laughed again, content to lean on Namjoon’s shoulder and let him nuzzle, listening to Jungkook’s whiny one-sided tirade with endless fondness.

This was hardly a new scene. It took only a few days for his pack bite to heal enough that it didn’t hurt to touch, and as soon as he gave permission to do so, the entire pack took every opportunity they had to do—whatever with it, really. To scent it, more often than not, or squint at it the way Hoseok himself sometimes did, to see if it was really and truly there. His favorite, however, was whenever any of them took his hand in theirs, tenderly rubbing his wrist like it was an absentminded instinct, while they sat side by side or took a walk or waited for tea to steep.

He smiled when he felt Namjoon press a soft kiss to the bite, nuzzling his shoulder with a sigh. “Sap,” he teased.

“Mhm,” Namjoon agreed, putting his arm around Hoseok’s shoulders.

-

“Hoseokie,” Yoongi grumbled from somewhere in the mass of dark blankets on his bed. Mostly dark blankets, at least. He could see a section with a few flowery smiley faces, his own favorite blanket having been stolen for his gremlin boyfriend’s cave.

“Hi, needy hyung,” Hoseok cooed, dropping his dance bag by the door before laying on top of him, blankets and all. “I haven’t showered.”

“Good,” Yoongi huffed, pleased. “Don’t like when you smell clean.”

“That’s horrible and I hate it,” said Hoseok, but made no effort to move. “You’ve eaten, right? You’re hydrated? Seokjinnie-hyung took away your stash of energy drinks?”

“Can’t believe you tattled on me,” Yoongi groaned, wriggling until Hoseok rolled off of him and pulling him into his blanket cavern as soon as he was able to. "I’m sickly, Hoseokie.”

“You’re in rut,” he laughed, running a hand through Yoongi’s hair. He was a day away from the peak of his rut, Yoongi told him, and Hoseok couldn’t imagine the room smelling—even more like it would. They planned on him staying away the next day, at any rate, for both of their own comforts. Even still, Hoseok felt like a heathen for wanting to bathe in it.

To be fair, he would quickly actually bathe to get it off, but in the moment—who would care about a little musk?

Yoongi let out a fake cough. “Sickly.”

“You’re the worst,” Hoseok grinned, overwhelmed with fondness. “Love you.”

“Love you,” Yoongi mumbled, burrowing closer to Hoseok’s chest even though it meant he had to extricate himself from his carefully constructed cocoon. “Even though you took my caffeine away. S’the only thing that keeps me awake.”

Hoseok snorted, getting a hand under Yoongi’s shirt to rub his back. He always got sore when he hadn’t moved around for so long, he was sure rut didn’t do him any favors. “If that’s the only thing that keeps you awake then you should sleep, sweetheart.”

“Don’t wanna sleep. Wanna jerk off and wait for you.”

Hoseok laughed a little too loud and gave his back an apologetic scritch. “Sorry. You’re absurd, hyung.”

“Been called worse,” he shrugged. “How was dance?”

“Are you asking if it tired me out enough to take a nap?”

Yoongi’s silence was answer enough.

Hoseok smiled and tucked him close, throwing a leg over Yoongi’s hip and settling in for the long haul. “Night, hyung. Rest well.”

“Always do when you’re here,” Yoongi answered, words mumbled against Hoseok’s chest. Hoseok knew the feeling. He always did, too.

Chapter 19

Chapter Text

As it turned out, trauma was not easy to overcome.

It wasn’t enough to be removed from the situation—from his father’s house, from the factories, from the streets. It wasn’t enough to have good day after good day, success after success, happiness after happiness. It wasn’t even enough to be around people who cared—Namjoon, Jin, Jimin, Jungkook, Yoongi and Taehyung.

Maybe the last is what made it hardest. Hoseok loved them—god, he loved them, with his whole heart, every bone in his body—but some of the things he loved most were things that he just didn’t have. Jin’s easiness, Yoongi’s confidence, Taehyung’s unending faith in the world. Hoseok didn’t have that. He didn’t understand it, as much as he wanted to.

Especially—especially Taehyung.

They’d gone through the same things: unheated winters and uncooled summers, untreated sickness, untended wounds. They’d gone through abuse, poverty, hunger, assault. But Taehyung held so much light in his soul that Hoseok, no matter how happy he was, could not comprehend.

He didn’t begrudge him that hope, that happiness, obviously. He wanted to give Taehyung the entire world, wanted to make his light shine even brighter. He wasn’t jealous, he wasn’t resentful, he wasn’t angry—he was just realizing how hard he worked to keep Taehyung from the brunt of the world’s cruelty. If he hadn’t, he doubted that light would be there.

He’d see Taehyung lean into a touch Hoseok would likely have flinched from before he forced his mind to remember that it wasn’t a john. He went to the doctor when he was sick, had expensive creams that he pushed on someone else if he didn’t like them enough, he always ate when he was hungry, even if it was the last of leftovers, unafraid of anyone’s ire. He’d hear Taehyung with Jimin and Jungkook, f*cking happily, unbothered, and in love.

He didn’t even realize it had built up until Taehyung said something offhand after dinner—“Ha, remember when I was fourteen, hyung, and there was that alpha with the muscles and tattoos and—”

He remembered well. Some of the noonas had warned him about him—he was rough, brutally so, liked to see fear, liked to see them wince with pain after he f*cked them raw. The alpha had wanted Taehyung.

“Go around the corner,” Hoseok had told the alpha, leaning on his window, making sure Taehyung couldn’t hear. “I’ll give you a free night if you leave him out of it.”

He still remembered the alpha’s grin. It had made him feel slimy, had made his stomach curl even then, and it had only gotten worse now. He’d repressed it, apparently, because the image came back to him all at once. He’d laughed with Taehyung, hoping it didn’t sound as hollow as he felt. He kept cleaning up. He smiled, said he’d be back in a minute. His smile fell as he walked down the hall, though tears blessedly stayed away. He was too numb to cry, anyways.

He remembered that night, that alpha, that feeling before, during, afterwards. It was one of the worst nights of his life, and Taehyung—thank god, he would never stop thanking every entity that ever existed—did not know. He’d gotten very, very good at concealing bruises that night, truly perfected the art in record time. He didn’t say anything about it to Tae the next day or next month or next years and years later when they finally met again. He hadn’t even thought Taehyung would remember something like that. He thought it would have been innocuous for him, a brief encounter that didn’t effect him at all.

But years later, he laughed about his ugly tattoos. The one on his face was tacky, cliche, and burned into Hoseok’s face years and years later.

He closed his bedroom door as quietly as he could, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at nothing. He wasn’t even thinking of anything. He wasn’t reliving the night or calming a racing heart or anything. He was just—there. Existing. Numb.

The bed felt too soft all at once and he sank to the floor, pulling his knees up to his chest. The rug was too soft, too, but he couldn’t move to the hardwood a few feet away. The thought itself was exhausting.

“f*ck,” he whispered, burying his face in his knees. “f*ck.”

He was grateful to not be remembering that night in full detail, though he knew he could with just the tiniest nudge. But it felt—so odd to sit there, thinking of nothing and too much all at once, quiet, stupid words not going beyond the surface level of his brain. He was thinking about thinking, thinking about not thinking about the tattoo-faced alpha, thinking about not thinking about the wounds, the cuts, the bruises, the bleeding, the nights of wretched, silent sobbing that he had wrought on him.

Remember? Taehyung had asked, laughing.

Again—again—he wasn’t angry. He wasn’t jealous. But he was—he was envious. Taehyung didn’t know, and he would never know, and Hoseok was grateful for it. He wouldn’t switch places for anything in the world, he never wanted Taehyung to feel what he felt. But f*ck. What was it like to just—to live?

He’d taken a lot more than that alpha for Taehyung. He’d taken hunger, he’d taken his father’s fist when he told Tae he’d made more than he needed and gave him a few won, he’d taken the worst customers and hidden as much as he could from him. He would have taken more if he could. But he felt it.

God, he felt it.

-

He wasn’t sure how long it had been before someone knocked on the door, but his room had gotten dark around him. He scrubbed his face and gathered himself as much as he could before calling out, “Who is it?”

“It’s Jinnie-hyung, Hobah. Can I come in?”

If it had been anyone else, Hoseok would have said no. “Yeah.”

Jin slipped in quickly, closing the door behind him, like he knew this wasn’t for the world to see. It wasn’t even for Jin to see, but he wanted—needed—someone. Needed his beta. Needed Jin.

Hoseok stared up at him for a long moment, at the love and concern in Jin’s eyes, and sobbed out, covering his mouth to keep it quiet. It was a wet, pathetic thing, tears welling up all at once, a painful lump forming in his throat. He mentally cut off his emotions from the pack bite quickly, ashamed that he hadn’t thought to do so before, hoping the numbness didn’t feel as off as this would have.

“Oh, Seok-ah,” Jin whispered, dropping to his knees in front of him and gathering him to his chest without ceremony, ignoring the awkward angles of his legs, pinning his arms between them both. “Baby—”

“Hyung,” he choked out. He was already making a wet patch on Jin’s shirt, he realized with a pang of humiliation, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away now. “f*ck, I’m sorry, I’m—”

“Baby, hush,” Jin said sternly. “Don’t be sorry, not ever, not to me.”

Hoseok nodded, burying his face against him more thoroughly. “f*ck,” he whispered.

“f*ck,” Jin agreed. “Here, hold on, let me hold you, okay?”

Hoseok nodded quickly, only pulling back long enough for Jin to sit with his back against the bed before letting himself be pulled into a hug again, tucking himself under Jin’s chin like he was just a pup. Hoseok had never had a happy childhood, even when his mother and sister had been there and it had been better than after they had left. He wouldn’t dare tell Jin he felt like his mother then, held close to her chest, protected from the world, but the memory still stirred.

“Oh, my Hoseokie,” Jin whispered, kissing his hair.

“I’m just—having a moment, hyung,” he said shakily. “Give me a minute and—”

Jin clicked his tongue to interrupt. “I’ll give you more than a minute, baby. We’re in no rush. We’ll take all the time we need.”

Hoseok had heard him take the same tactic with the pups—we’ll do this, we’re okay, we’re in this together. He could truly appreciate it now. He nodded, breathing out wetly against his chest. “I’m being stupid.”

“I guarantee you’re not.”

Hoseok shook his head. “I’m being complicated.”

“The situation is likely what’s complicated. Not you.”

Hoseok laughed a little. “I’m complex. That’s—that makes it more complicated.”

“Mm, sure. We all are, though, aren’t we? Do you want to talk, peach?”

“No,” he said. “Yes? I don’t know.”

“I’m keeping you here either way. We don’t have to if you don’t want.”

Hoseok nodded again, rubbing his cheek on his shoulder. “Did anyone notice I was gone?”

“Joon and Yoongi. That’s all.”

Hoseok breathed out gratefully. “Okay. Okay.” Jin rubbed his back for a moment before Hoseok burst out, “I remember the alpha with the muscles.”

Jin paused. “The one Taehyung mentioned?”

“Y-yeah.” He took a deep breath, releasing Jin’s shirt. He hadn’t even realized he was gripping it so tightly. “I didn’t think he would remember.”

“Did you have bad experiences, or—”

“I did,” Hoseok said firmly. He didn’t want Jin to think Taehyung had been—been tainted like he had, even if he didn’t know the context. “I—I remember him, but I didn’t think, uh. I didn’t think I’d have to today.”

“Joonie could beat him up,” Jin promised softly, nuzzling Hoseok’s temple.

He snorted inelegantly, wrapping his arms around Jin’s shoulders. “Yeah, maybe.”

Jin let him have his silence for a few moments, rubbing circles on his back and giving him the occasional kiss on his hair before he cleared his throat. “You’ve been feeling off for a little bit, haven’t you?”

Hoseok’s shoulders slumped; he knew it wasn’t a question. “I haven’t meant to.”

“Of course you haven’t, baby. Hyung’s just worried.”

“Can you—have you been able to feel it? Through the bite?” Hoseok gripped his shirt, cheeks burning at the prospect.

“No,” he reassured quickly. “It’s more—a hyung thing. Beta intuition. You go quiet but it’s not noticeable unless you’re looking for it.”

Hoseok’s heart squeezed. “Do you—?”

“Of course I do. I always look out for you, Hoseokie.”

“Gonna make me cry,” he tried to laugh around the heart in his throat.

“You’re already crying. And I’ll still look out for you if you cry more.” He squeezed him close, cedar and coffee sweeping over Hoseok, warm and comforting. It made him let out another shuddering breath, relief beginning to seep into him just from being so close to his beta.

“I don’t—” Hoseok paused to take a breath, pulling back and wiping his eyes. “I don’t want you to think badly of me.”

“I wouldn’t.”

Hoseok frowned, leaning his head back against his bed. He thought it over for a moment—it wasn’t even thinking it over, really. He just needed to gather himself, to put his trust that Jin wouldn’t hate him. “Don’t tell anyone what—what I say, okay?”

“Cross my heart,” he promised, holding out his pinky.

Hoseok huffed a laugh, even as he hooked it with his own. He didn’t pull away even as their hands fell, staying linked together, tethered to comfort. “I—I did a lot of sh*t when I was younger.”

Jin didn’t stare at him, just did the same thing Hoseok did: stared at their joined hands, the edge of Jin’s pack bite visible on the turn of his wrist. He was quiet, clearly giving him room.

“There’s a lot of things I feel ashamed about, and I probably always will, but that’s not—that’s not the problem.” He took another breath, smiling a tiny bit when Jin squeezed his hand. “I made sure Taehyungie wasn’t—that he was better than he could be. It was never good, but it could have been a lot worse. I-I made sure he ate, that he didn’t have to f*ck when he was sick, that he took home enough to not get beat—and I’m proud of that, I really am, just—being able to protect him as much as I could was—was what kept me going for a couple years. But.”

Jin squeezed his pinky a little, just enough pressure for him to feel it, a confirmation that he was being heard.

“I’m so—so glad I was able to take care of Tae, even if I wish I had been able to do more. But it—it meant that I took what he didn’t. What I didn’t let him take. And he doesn’t—I’m sure he knows some, or at least suspects, but there’s—there’s a lot. I’ll never regret it, I won’t, but—” He paused to take a shaky breath, looking up at his ceiling. His Aquarius was next to Yoongi’s Pisces, and the star he decided was Taehyung was right in the middle. “He remembers the alpha with the muscles as some skeevy asshole, maybe he remembers there were rumors about his kinks or something, I don’t know. But I—I gave him a free night, an entire night, so he would stop f*cking looking at Tae. He wanted to tear him apart—he was fourteen, that alpha could have taken him if he tried, and I needed—I wanted—to get him away. So—I’m glad that’s what Tae remembers, I’m glad he doesn’t have to remember anything else, I never, never, want that to change, but—f*ck.”

He had to take his hand back to cover his face, too overwhelmed to breathe easily and too numb to sob.

“Seok-ah,” Jin said quietly, squeezing his knee. Hoseok could feel how much Jin wanted to pull him close and tell him it was going to be okay, and was grateful when he didn’t. Still, his hand remained, a stable and steady force.

“I wish I didn’t have to remember in his place. That’s all.” He felt so defeated all at once.

“Can I do anything for you, baby?”

Hoseok shook his head, though he did reach for him again. “Just hold me a little while longer?”

Jin pulled him close immediately, tugging him bodily into his lap.

“There’s really—nothing for you to do, hyung. It’s—it’s my burden to bear, you know? My trouble to work through.” He sniffled, though there were no fresh tears. “I’ve talked to Chim about therapy. I’m thinking about it.”

“Good,” Jin whispered, kissing his temple. “That’s good, Hoseokie.”

“If I—If I need you to call for me—?”

“Of course I will.”

“Okay,” Hoseok nodded, leaning onto him a little heavier. “Thank you.”

-

“Hyung?”

Jin hummed, tugging his hair lightly.

They’d been cuddled up on the floor for nearly an hour, maybe a little more. Hoseok felt—not better, but something akin to it. He was almost proud that he didn’t have to gather himself before asking, “Will you help me build a nest?”

Jin gasped, a surge of joy rushing through Hoseok’s chest—he’d reconnected through the pack bite so gradually that he hadn’t noticed at first, but feeling Jin’s pleasure removed any worry he might have felt about doing so.

“Hobah—”

“Please?”

“Oh, my precious baby, yes, of course—” Hoseok laughed a little at Jin’s teary eyes when he pulled back. Jin whined happily when he cupped his cheeks, nuzzling their noses together. “My baby.”

“Thanks, hyung. I want—not on the bed, maybe—maybe that corner, if you wouldn’t mind moving the chair?”

Jin nearly stumbled in his rush to move it, looking at Hoseok afterwards like he was prepared to shove the walls aside if he decided it wasn’t enough room.

Hoseok nodded once, satisfied. “Would you strip Yoongi’s bed for me?”

Jin nearly leapt into action before blinking. “The whole bed?” He grinned when Hoseok didn’t answer, his cheeks tinged pink. “The whole bed. Open the door for me when I get back.”

Hoseok watched him leave fondly before putting his base layers together—a mattress pad he kept in his closet, a worn comforter he’d saved from being tossed, his own blanket draped over both of those, his pillows lining the wall. He hadn’t nested more than thrice before moving in with the pack, and only another three since, but he felt still-unfamiliar instincts poke at him insistently until he followed their lead.

He hardly looked at Jin when he opened the door for him a few moments later, grabbing half of his armful and burying his face in it, breathing in deeply. Deciding it was sufficiently Yoongi, he incorporated every bit of it, shoving the sheet under the pillows where he would be able to smell it clearly, tossing one of his own pillows aside to replace it with the one Yoongi used the most, deciding that the blanket Yoongi had spilled coffee on the day before smelled too strongly of not-Yoongi to put in a place of importance but was too Yoongi to put aside, so was instead gently placed a few feet away from the nest, close enough to touch but not to smell quite so fiercely.

“Hyung—” he started, but Jin was gone when he turned. Before he could let out a distressed whine, he came back through the door, arms laden once more.

Hoseok immediately all but blocked out his presence in favor of rooting through the pile Jin placed on his bed. There were very few things he didn’t want in his nest—the couch cushion he favored was too scratchy and the towel that the pups had obviously shared after a bath was too oddly-saturated, but everything else was his.

The hoodie Namjoon had worn on his run that morning, the throw Jungkook kept on his gaming chair, the oversized shirt Taehyung had gotten him as a gift and subsequently stole every other laundry cycle—there was something from all of his packmates.

He didn’t even realize he’d left his room—a few times, more than likely, considering how eclectically put together his nest seemed—but he slowly came to when his instincts were sated, his nest complete, his mind much more at ease. Jin was sitting on his bed, smiling at him with such clear fondness that it made Hoseok’s heart squeeze.

Hoseok glanced from him to assess his nest, instincts needling at him once more. He sat up a little straighter, looking at Jin imploringly.

“You built a perfect nest, omega,” said Jin, leaning to run a hand through Hoseok’s hair.

Hoseok preened at the praise from his beta, buzzing with satisfaction. He felt distinctly omega then, though he was nowhere near his heat. It was just—nice. Soothing, almost. Everything felt simpler than it had not even an hour before.

“Do you want me to fetch anyone?”

He frowned as he considered. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Jin, it was just—Hoseok would drag Taehyung and Yoongi by their hair to his nest if he had to, and he wasn’t sure Jin would go to the same lengths. He didn’t bother answering him before getting to his feet, firmly closing the bedroom door behind him as he went so Jin would not leave.

Yoongi didn’t look too surprised as Hoseok pulled him up from the couch insistently, and Taehyung looked absolutely thrilled when he did the same to him, marching them both to his room. He chirped approvingly when Jin was still there. He looked between the three of them with a tiny frown. It would be a tight fit, which was all the better. He wanted them to be as close as possible. But he wanted all of them to be as close as possible, and he only had two sides.

Jin must have felt his conflict. He kissed Hoseok’s forehead, giving him another fond smile. “Why don’t I go look after your pack while—”

Hoseok growled through his teeth immediately. Jin couldn’t leave; Hoseok wouldn’t let him. He quickly took charge, moving Jin bodily until he was in the nest, sitting on his legs afterwards to make sure he wouldn’t get up. He ignored Taehyung’s cackling in favor of jerking him down next, prodding him until he was tucked close to Jin’s side.

Yoongi didn’t need to be shoved or jerked or prodded. He kissed Hoseok’s temple before sitting down with only a little bit of an old-man-groan, looking up at Hoseok for further instruction. Hoseok frowned, considering.

“If I’m in the middle,” Yoongi suggested carefully, “I can hold you, and you can hold them.”

Hoseok gave it another moment of thought before nodding, shoving his hands between Tae and Jin to push them apart. They went easily, no pushing needed, with Tae smacking Yoongi’s ass as soon as it was made available to him. He nearly howled with laughter when Yoongi made to get some sort of retribution for it only to be met with Hoseok’s growl.

Yoongi stared at him with wide eyes, settling down obediently. He blinked when his head hit the pillow. “This is—” he glanced around, “is my entire bed in here?”

“I left your mattress,” Jin said amicably.

Hoseok frowned. “My bed now. Down.”

Yoongi put his hands up in surrender, settling back down and opening his arms for Hoseok to join him. He only did so when he was satisfied, making final adjustments to the nest itself and nudging his packmates into place. Wriggling until his cheek rested on Yoongi’s chest, he put his arms around Jin and Tae on either side, and let out a rumble of a purr.

“Oh,” Taehyung breathed out. “Is he—?”

“Don’t or he’ll stop!” Jin whispered.

“‘M not gonna stop,” Hoseok grumbled, tugging Yoongi’s shirt up to gain access to bare skin. As soon as he settled back down, he let another quiet purr roll from his chest, practically able to feel Jin and Taehyung vibrate with excitement.

Yoongi threaded his long fingers through his hair, scritching his scalp just right. Hoseok let out another wave. He knew Yoongi was smiling, he could hear it on the edges of his voice. “Doesn’t he sound pretty?”

“Do you—” Jin started, stopping when Hoseok huffed a tiny bit at being addressed. “Does he do this a lot?"

Yoongi tried to shrug, giving up when he realized he was too pinned down. “Not often.”

“But sometimes?” Taehyung asked. He sounded quiet, reverent, and that did make Hoseok’s cheeks tingle with a blush, though he still didn’t try to quiet himself.

Yoongi hummed. “Sometimes.”

Omegas purring wasn’t something so uncommon that it could be called rare, but it was certainly infrequent. It depended largely on the omega, too—some purred to self-soothe, others during good dreams, some almost never, if at all. Hoseok expected Taehyung to be prone to purring, but was surprised to find out that he only did in the throes of heat (“It tickles,” he’d explain, wrinkling his nose so cutely that Hoseok wrestled him into a cuddle without hesitation).

Hoseok, predictably, had never purred until he joined the Kim pack—and even then, it had taken over a year for him to get to that point. The first time it happened, he nearly fell out of his bed in shock. He’d just been laying there, alone, scrolling on his phone, when the unfamiliar rumble spilled out of him. He hadn’t shrieked, but he’d come close. He was just—content. He was content enough that he could fully relax, content enough that he felt safe, provided for, cared for, loved—

Yoongi made him feel that way a lot recently. Being able to purr Yoongi to sleep was a source of both omegan and Hoseokian pride. A purr started up when Yoongi rubbed his back or petted his hair, the room otherwise silent as they did their own things or did nothing at all. More than once Yoongi would come home late from the office and, instead of bothering a presumed-sleeping Hoseok, Yoongi would be bothered by a purring Hoseok throwing himself onto him as soon as he settled into bed. It was a quiet thing, private and gentle, but he didn’t mind sharing it now.

“Love you,” he mumbled. He didn’t think he needed to specify.

Chapter 20

Chapter Text

“Do you ever think about it?” Yoongi asked quietly, their knees knocking together where they sat on a street bench.

Hoseok snorted. “You’re going to need to give me more context, babe.”

Yoongi hummed. “Finding them. Your family.”

The question made Hoseok’s heart seize for a moment, even if he’d been expecting it. The subject of family had come up a lot recently - not by anyone’s intentional doing, of course, but Taehyung’s cousin had come up for a visit, Jin’s parents had had the entire pack over for dinner, Yoongi had fallen asleep on Hoseok’s chest after an hour-long call with his eomma before he gave Hoseok an hour-long rundown about their complicated relationship.

Hoseok never talked about his own family, not when he could help it. Only Jin and Yoongi knew about his mother and sister at all, and that had been after a drink too many; even Taehyung, who shared such a significant part of his history with him, didn’t know everything about him.

“I think about it,” he said after an unrushed moment. “I don’t—I don’t think I’ll try.”

“No?” Yoongi asked.

Hoseok knew that he could abandon the subject and not be pressed; he could leave it at that and Yoongi would accept it. Maybe knowing he wasn’t trapped in the words made them easier to come out.

“No. I’m too afraid of what I’d find out.” He’d finished his own food. He stole a bite of Yoongi’s to keep his mouth busy for a moment. “They can’t have had an easy life, even after leaving my father. I don’t want to find out that they were—unhappy, or that my sister was still f*cked over just, in a different way, by someone else.”

Yoongi hummed, leg pressing more firmly against Hoseok’s for a moment.

“And if—if she wasn’t,” he said weakly, looking up at the fairy lights strung over the street market. “If she wasn’t, if their lives had gotten easy as soon as they left—I worry that I’d be angry.”

“That makes sense,” Yoongi said quietly, easily.

Hoseok sighed. “I guess. I just had to work so, so hard to not be angry when they left, you know? It’s not like I wanted either of them to—to stay, to suffer, but—I wished for so long that eomma would have taken me, too. I knew she couldn’t, I knew why she couldn’t, I knew why she’d taken my sister, but—”

“It still hurt?” Yoongi offered when he didn’t continue. Hoseok nodded. “Of course it hurt. I can’t imagine.”

“It still hurts sometimes, even now. If I look for them, I—I don’t want to feel angry or hurt all over again. I don’t want to let resentment take over. I think—it would? It feels like Russian roulette, and either it would be fine and great and I’d have my family again, or it would grind me into the f*cking ground. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I think so. At least somewhat.”

“I love them,” Hoseok said with an air of finality. “I do. I always will. That’s what matters. Now—be a good alpha and go hunt, I want some cider—”

-

The conversation lingered in his head, followed him for days after. He felt it when he stretched in his comfy desk chair to pop his back; when he spent ten thou won on a fancy drink he didn’t even need; when he had sweat running down his entire body after hours of dance practice twice a week.

Especially then, maybe.

“Next time!” he promised his dance friends, giving them a bright smile and a few appeasing bows as he backed away from their crew. He doubted he would be much fun for their usual post-practice drinks that week, even if he wanted to be surrounded by people who all appeared to be unscarred, no chips on their shoulders, born into a life where they could at least dance for a good chunk of it.

At that class level, quite a few of his friends were a good five years younger than him, too. His ego was strong enough to come out unscathed about his skills, but it was hard to escape that if he had had just a slightly different life, a slightly different experience, maybe this would have been different, too.

Better to let the youth revel happily without a scowly beast of an elder off in the corner.

He wasn’t a scowly beast, not really, nor was he an elder. But he was - tired, lately. Sad. A little too out of touch with reality; everything covered in a thin sheen that let him see but disallowed him to touch.

There weren’t many people at the Kim-Min building when he let himself in. There shouldn’t have been any, but Saturdays tended to be reserved for creatives, at least, with no accountant-types wandering the halls. Though he supposed there was technically a CEO wandering around, but Yoongi was an artist before anything else at times like these.

He let himself into Yoongi’s studio, having already texted that he was on his way. He’d even picked up food to give himself a stronger pretense of visiting.As soon as the studio door was closed behind him and he was left in the dark, cozy Genius Lab with his dark, cozy boyfriend and his dark, cozy alpha scent, he felt himself start to unravel. He laid down on the sofa, grabbing his favorite throw pillow and burying his face in it, trying to even out his breathing before it could go truly out of control.

“Hobah?” Yoongi said, voice rough from a day of disuse.

Hoseok shook his head. He just needed—company, quiet, someone who understood. He didn’t need to talk. He just needed to cry it out for a little while before he could plaster on a smile again. That was all.

Yoongi sat beside him on the edge of the sofa, petting his hair for a moment. “Want hyung to hold you for a bit?”

Hoseok nodded quickly, clumsily sitting up and throwing his arms around Yoongi’s shoulders. Yoongi kissed his temple and tucked him close, pulling him half on his lap. He didn’t try to pull an explanation from him, or shush his sobs, or whisper assurances that went directly against everything Hoseok was thinking at the moment.

Yoongi was everything to him, and, he knew, he was everything to Yoongi.

That was the crux of it.

Hoseok deserved this. He deserved Yoongi’s kindness, he deserved to feel loved, he deserved to feel like he was welcomed, that he belonged, that he was worth something to someone. He deserved the love that he got from Yoongi, from Namjoon and Jin, from Tae and Jimin and Jungkook. He deserved the life that he had.

It made it so much worse, because knowing he deserved all these wonderful, beautiful, good things in life meant that he didn’t deserve all the sh*t he’d lived through. He’d tried for so long to convince himself that he deserved his pain, whether by personal failings or luck of the draw, and it had been one of the very few ways he managed to convince himself everything was alright.

He sobbed into Yoongi’s shoulder, loud and ugly and accompanied by far too much snot and drool. Yoongi still held him close, though. Still saved his work when he’d calmed down enough to go from wrecked sobs to occasional hiccupy cries. Still wrapped his arm around his waist and let him lean heavy on him as they walked to the garage, still held his hand as he drove them home. Still washed his face for him, still dressed him for bed, still tucked him in and petted his hair and traced patterns on his arm until he was too close to sleep to cry any more.

“M’sorry,” he mumbled, eyes too heavy to keep them open.

“Hoseok-ah,” Yoongi started, but respectfully stopped when Hoseok shook his head.

“M’not—who I want to be. Not right now.”

“I love you,” Yoongi told him, quiet, no-nonsense, but not trying to convince him it was okay, that Hoseok was okay, that the person he was was just fine. “I hate that you’re hurting, Seok-ah. I’ll be right next to you, okay? For as long as you need.”

Hoseok snorted and managed to open an eye just enough to see him. “Gonna need you forever, idiot.”

Yoongi smiled a little, cupping his cheek. “Good. I’m gonna need you forever, too.”

Hoseok closed his eye again, putting his hand over Yoongi’s to keep it on his face, nuzzling into it a little bit. He knew Yoongi thought he’d fallen asleep when he started to settle more fully beside him, doing his best to not jostle him.

“Yoongi?” he mumbled. “Want you to mate me. Okay?”

Yoongi was quiet for a moment, his voice rough when he did speak. “O-okay. I—yes. Okay.”

Hoseok huffed a quiet laugh, turning on his side and snuggling close to him, tucking his head against Yoongi’s chest. “Why’re you surprised? Been courting for—” a yawn interrupted him, “dunno. Months. Right?”

“I-I don’t know why I’m surprised, honestly. Just—hearing it is—”

“Good?”

“Good.”

Hoseok nodded, squeezing him for a moment. “Talk later. Wanna spoon you.”

Yoongi pressed a kiss to his forehead before turning over, slotting against Hoseok as perfectly as he always did.

Yoongi’s quiet, inadvertent giggle a few seconds later made Hoseok grin against the nape of his neck, scraping his teeth against the knob of his spine just to pull another little gasp and giggle from him again.

“Sleep, alpha,” he said, lips against his skin.

“Omega,” Hoseok could hear the smile in his voice. “Anything for you.”

Chapter 21

Chapter Text

“Jin-hyung’s going to kill you if you make it bleed again,” Hoseok muttered with a smile. He pet Yoongi’s hair instead of pulling it to coax him away, however. He even went so far as to tilt his head, giving him better access.

“Kay,” Yoongi said, licking over the healing bite again.

It was still fresh, only a day old, and Hoseok could just see how it would look in a hundred days, a hundred months. He thumbed at the edge of the matching bite on Yoongi’s neck; he didn’t feel the need to lap at it like Yoongi seemed to, but the compulsion to see-touch-smell was there.

Jin would kill them if they opened the bites again, though, even if Hoseok felt it was a tiny bit worth it to have Yoongi staking his claim so sweetly, so lovingly, so possessively, over and over, always by Hoseok’s side (or on his lap, or holding him close, or kissing him slowly and devouring him hungrily in equal turns). He let Yoongi have another minute of marking his territory with kitten licks and gentle teeth bared against his skin before kissing his temple, guiding him away.

Yoongi looked betrayed for half a moment before Hoseok chased it away expertly.

“I’m hungry.”

He couldn’t help but laugh as Yoongi’s eyes went focused all at once, his mouth setting in a determined line. Primal had never been a thing for Hoseok, not when it meant rough sex and almost threatening talks of breeding, but he absolutely felt the appeal of this aspect. Yoongi looked as if he was about to hunt down an actual boar with his bare hands just to feed his mate (his mate) instead of heating up leftovers in the microwave. It wasn’t a new expression, either, but now that Hoseok carried his bite on his neck, it seemed to have intensified tenfold.

“Hey—” he said before Yoongi could stride determinedly out the door. “Give me a kiss first. I’m gonna shower but I’ll come back to the nest right after.”

Hoseok kissed over Yoongi’s pout, cupping his face. Yoongi had nearly cried trying to keep Hoseok from showering after they’d mated for the first time (it was still incredible to Hoseok that there was a first time already, considering they’d followed it up with several rounds in the twenty-four hours since they claimed each other), but Hoseok refused to concede on that front. He was already keeping sex-heady sheets in the nest (and refused to admit that the scent appealed to his omega as much as it did to Yoongi’s alpha, the thought making him cringe way too much), he didn’t want his body to smell the same.

If it was anyone but Taehyung who threw himself at him as soon as Hoseok started down the hall, he was pretty sure he would have died from mortification—he was covered in Yoongi and in sex and in the claiming afterglow that had yet to fade. Taehyung ignored it all in favor of snuffling into the nape of Hoseok’s neck, tactfully avoiding the bite.

“Tae-yah—” Hoseok groaned, but he didn’t try to escape. He still moved towards the bathroom, though, even though it meant waddling now that Taehyung was attached to him.

“My happy hyung,” Taehyung said.

Hoseok rolled his eyes as he heard Taehyung’s voice waver tearily but he would never deny that his happiness bloomed even more at his words. “I smell terrible, baby, get off.”

“You smell like love,” he argued, though he peeled away from him with a smacking kiss to his nape.

Hoseok didn’t stop him from following him into the bathroom. He never bothered with modesty with Taehyung, and this time was no different—even though he blushed at Taehyung’s very pointed wolf-whistle when he caught sight of the many, many non-claim bites that Yoongi had peppered him with. He glanced at himself in the mirror and covered his face immediately, waving a hand at Taehyung’s cackling laugh.

“I’ve mated a leech—”

Taehyung laughed, reaching over to poke at a mark on his chest. “He’s a really cute leech, though! But tell me the truth—”

“Absolutely not.”

“Does he look any better?”

Hoseok knew for a fact that he didn’t, he was almost sure that Yoongi had more marks than he did. It turned out that having someone you wanted to claim and to be claimed by was an intoxicating, exhilarating thing, one that made for hungry mouths and eager hands. He very pointedly ignored Taehyung as he stepped into the shower, though he couldn’t help the affection that stirred in his tummy when he glanced at him and saw him sitting on the sink, swinging his legs.

“I’m proud of us,” he said abruptly.

Taehyung blinked at him.

“We—we’re where we should be,” he said. He lathered himself up before he could forget to, already getting a little lost in how good the hot water felt on his sore muscles. “We didn’t have a good start, but—but we found them, the people we’re supposed to be with, the pack we’re supposed to have.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung agreed quietly. He’d stopped swinging his legs, but there was a small smile on his face, a soft slope to his shoulders that spoke of a full and fulfilled heart. “With mates that we love and that love us. And that dick us down just right—”

Hoseok snorted but didn’t deny it. He also didn’t deny the absolute flurry of excitement in his chest when there was a quiet knock on the bathroom door, the olive leaf and orange blossoms so strong in his nose that it had to be imagined.

“We’re indecent!” Taehyung squawked even as he opened it.

Yoongi was entirely unsurprised to see Taehyung in the bathroom, though he had eyes only for Hoseok. Not even for his body, either, but for him—he looked at Hoseok like the sun beat in his chest. Hoseok understood; he was almost sure Yoongi had the moon in his own.

“Is the food ready?” he asked when Yoongi didn’t say anything.

“Oh.” Yoongi blinked. “Yeah. I just missed you.”

Taehyung cooed and reached over to pinch Yoongi’s cheek. “Lovebirds. I’ll leave you to it. Don’t f*ck in the shower.”

“Hypocrite,” Yoongi called after him, closing the door on Taehyung’s giggle.

Hoseok grinned and rinsed the shampoo from his hair, feeling romanced all over again when Yoongi fluffed out a warm towel when he turned the shower off.

“Missed me, huh?” he teased quietly, kissing his mate as soon as he wrapped him up.

“Impossible not to.”

Maybe Hoseok did have the sun in his chest. He seemed to glow from the inside out, his warmth spreading from his fingertips to Yoongi’s own.

It was easy to remember love being hard to come by—of cold nights spent on the street, of lonely ones spent with tears on his cheeks and fresh and fading bruises all over, of each small, rare kindness feeling monumental in the barren landscape that seemed to surround him.

But it was easier, now, to take in just how easy it was to love and to be loved.

It was easy to lean into his alpha’s touch; easy to relax into the sounds of his pack; easy to come home—truly come home—and feel like he belonged.

Love had felt unpracticed and unfamiliar for so long, something that he could only hold a clumsy imitation of in his hands, sculpted from dreams he didn’t dare to have. But now,with sunlight in his hands meeting moonlight in Yoongi’s own, it was natural, as easy as breathing, as smiling, as laughing, as sleeping, as dreaming of things that still felt scary at times, but that never felt hopeless.

Hoseok brought Yoongi’s moonlight palms to his lips, pressing a kiss to them in turn.

“Love you,” he said. Easy.

“Love you,” Yoongi returned, and that was easy, too.