Finding My Pack
Alpha!OT7 x Omega!Reader
Genre: Fated Mates, Omegaverse, Smut, Angst, Fluff
Series Warnings: Omega Abuse (Not By OT7), Fated Mates/Soulmates, Scent Sympathy, Sunshine!FMC, Knotting, Smut, MMMMMMMF, MMMF, MMF, MF, Breeding Kink, Cursing, Dom!OT7, Sub!Reader
Chapter Warnings: Omega Abuse
A/N: This will be the only chapter posted to Tumblr. All future chapters can be found on Patreon~! See you there!
Chapter 1.
"You do not lock the goddamn doors in this fucking house."
The sentence was thick with a growl, one that if I was born correctly wouldn't have mattered in the slightest. Just hearing the sharp hit of his words, my insides clenched and coiled, dying to listen and make sure that he wouldn't be mad at me again.
"Sorry," I whispered softly, looking down at my bare toes that curled awkwardly under my gaze.
"You need to put on your scent blocker and try a little bit harder to fit in here. You're making all your brothers crazy with that fucking smell."
Swallowing thickly, I grabbed the bottle from him with a nod.
If my scent made my brothers crazy, they made me out of my fucking mind with sickness. Every one of them smells like acidic garbage with a hint of overpowering sweetness, y'know, like the way too fake soaps or body lotions you find in those hoity toity stores.
"You're a fucking Pangborn. Please act like it," my father grumbled, wrinkling his nose at the smell of my nervousness. "Jesus Christ. I can't believe your mother made you."
His words were a low blow but nothing I wasn't used to hearing now. Nothing any of the pack said got to me as bad as it used it.
Liar.
Okay, a lot of it hurt but I tried not to think of it all the time. It was my fault, really. I wasn't born right.
To be a Pangborn in Cypress City, you have to be an alpha. The Pangborns breed for one purpose and one purpose only, to give the city more alphas then they know what to do with.
Every Pangborn is expected to be a boy, to be an alpha and to take on the numerous betas that are practically beating down the door for them to be let in. So when I was born, disappointment was ripe in the air. It still is.
A small female omega with no qualities and no purpose.
I'm nothing.
Oh that's fun, what a great thought to have. Even if it hurts, it's true.
Since I was born I've been kept hidden like a secret. There's no fairytale here, there's no pack of alpha princes waiting at the bottom of my incredibly sterile, sad tower. There's no one that cares. Well, maybe Brady and MacKenzie but they pretend I don't exist half the time.
Looking down at the bottle of scent blocker, a sob threatened to well up in my throat.
"Weak omega bullshit." That's what my father would say.
It's so fucking annoying to be different. It's so painful. But the hope that one day I'd be accepted never ceased to creep into my thoughts.
So I sprayed the spray on even though it makes me feel sick.
I could smell him before my door opened. His alpha pheromones were bleeding throughout the long hallway that lead to my room.
He smelled of garbage, lemon juice and the slightest hint of boysenberry. Although the boysenberry is not his own smell. It's a betas.
"Oy!" MacKenzie booms, shoving open the door.
His bright red hair and forest green eyes searched the mostly barren room until he found me in the corner.
"He cornered you again?" he asked softly, stepping into the room like he's witnessing a hurt animal.
"It's okay!" I tried to beam a smile for him but it fell flat into some kind of grimace.
MacKenzie wasn't really my brother, he hailed from the Alban Pangborns so he's more like my very distant cousin but he's pack and that makes him my authority regardless. If he barked at me, I'd end up doing his bidding. Just like all my other brothers do. I'm grateful he doesn't do it but he still could nonetheless.
"You sprayed on the right amount," Kenz praised, giving me a small smile.
The praise made me want to preen, made me want to jump and shout for joy that I did something right but I kept it locked tight within me.
"You'll be pleased to know that your father and some of the others are going on a business trip soon. It'll just be some of us left in the house. You won't have to smell all this alpha shite around, you ken?"
His thick accent made me smile then. When he first came over from Alba I had not a fucking clue what he was talking about but now it almost feels like a secret language we speak.
"I ken," I nodded, setting the spray down on my dresser.
"Just wait a while to come down to get your dinner. The boys and I have been having a beta fucking feast," he wiggled his eyebrows and left the doorway without so much as a goodbye.
I wish I was a beta.
No, actually, I wished I was an alpha. I wished I was born an alpha so that I didn't have to be a disappointment and left out of everything.
Sitting down on my bed, I fluffed the uncomfortable comforter around me to no avail and since I know I'm alone I let out the most pitiful of whines. Whining wasn't allowed. My father told me that alphas hate whining more than anything.
Once I whined during dinner with the Landons and their alpha son looked like he wanted to tackle me from across the table. It was the one and only time I was able to go to dinner with my family. They never let me go again.
I apparently ruined their business merger dinner.
My family made a fuck ton of money. Too much money to count on your fingers, not that I'd ever see a cent. I wasn't worth a dollar to them. They own a vast majority of land across the globe, mostly farms or patches of free wilderness that people are begging to buy from them.
If only those vast patches of land would be able to buy me a soft comfortable comforter. This one is rough and itchy and I don't like it. I don't know much about being an omega but I do know that I don't like the blankets I own.
You see, omegas are rare. Like one in one hundred is an omega rare. Somewhere in history omegas just became a rarity and as such they're terribly hated.
Whenever I tried to ask the pack any questions they all shut me down with a growl and told me to go back to my room.
"Y/N!"
My father's bark was sharp and I tightened my terribly uncomfortable blanket over my shoulders at the noise.
If they are having a beta party downstairs I most certainly wouldn't be welcome to interrupt it. All the beta females that came into the house hated me. I tried to be friendly and smile, tried to make friends with other girls but they didn't want anything to do with me.
Probably feeding into the whole hate omega-kind thing, huh?
When my father shouted my name again, I had no choice but to get up. It was an alpha command now, filled with bite and fury.
If I saw one bare tit I was going to lose my goddamn mind. I'd been having these awful urges these past couple of months. It felt like something was boiling in my gut and itching beneath my skin, just begging to get out of me. What it was, I wasn't sure but it feels fucking awful and devastating just the same.
When I was starting to run a fever, my father would give me a few pills and lock me up in my room until the fever had passed and I was able to carry on with my chores.
My feet took me without thinking. The large home I lived in with the twelve others in the pack passed by in a blur. I tried not to look up from the wooden floorboards, I really didn't want to see anyone mating out in the open like I know my brothers loved to do.
I could hear the audible moans of the betas, probably in various states of undress all around me as I made my way to my father's office.
This had always been my home but I'd always felt like a stranger here. It's not just because my family wasn't welcoming, it just felt wrong. Nothing in this place is where it should be. The pictures on the cabin-like wooden walls weren't at all in the right order, the couches in the sitting room weren't staged properly, even the wood that goes into the fireplace smells horrendous.
Everything about this place made me feel sick.
That includes my father's office.
Once I stepped inside I was immediately smacked with pheromones, ones that made my stomach roll with nausea. I wonder if that's how everyone felt. I wonder if betas got nauseous with their families too.
My eyes scanned the room which was terribly out of order and then they caught on the one picture that sat on my father's desk.
It was her.
My mother. Whom of which I've never met. She was a beta that my father never bonded with but got pregnant anyway. He loved her…I think. But when she had me and I was an omega she was disappointed and left me here. She left me here alone. With these people.
Family.
She left me here with my family.
I hadn't realized I whined until my father cracked his hand down on his desk with a fierceness. "What did I say about that shit?!"
"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."
"Not that she ever does, eh?" my brother Riley laughed, elbowing me in the ribs as he passed.
Riley was an interesting case of smells. There's the cedar which makes sense because he spends a lot of time outdoors, there's the sharpness of spearmint like a powerful gum that makes your nostrils burn and…boysenberry?
He and MacKenzie have been sharing again. Definitely not uncommon for those two.
"Close the doors. She's gonna scare all the betas away. I'm not waiting another round for Hunter to have an alpha son of his own."
"Keep the lineage alive." That's the pack motto. What a terrible fucking bumper sticker that would be.
I stood there, looking down at my toes as my father and Riley talked and laughed with one another. Probably forgetting I was even in the room. Which happens sometimes.
"Alright, little O?" Kenz cheered, entering the office.
"Don't call her that," my father snapped, finally remembering I was around.
MacKenzie held his hands up in a gesture to soothe any frayed nerves and he sat down with a groan on the couch closest to father's desk.
"Y/N," my father began, not even offering the kindness to look at me. "Your brothers and I are going on a business trip outside of the city. Some of your brothers, like MacKenzie, are staying back because they have a dinner meeting at the house while I'm away."
My head lifts in surprise. Will I be allowed to go?! Can I eat dinner with my brothers?!
"There's many alphas in the pack, we can kill two birds with one stone. This business meeting is incredibly important for us."
My smile was megawatt and I nodded instantly. "Sure, of course! I can–"
"You can," my father interrupted with a sneer. "Make sure you stay in your room, take your pills and keep your scent blocker applied when the Euphoria Pack comes to the meeting. This contract will be our biggest one so far and I will not have your omega bullshit fuck it up for the rest of us. Do you understand?"
The disappointment and sorrow that swirled through me almost knocked me off my feet. "Oh, I see… I understand."
"See that you do. I won't stand for losing this deal because you couldn't handle yourself."
God, I wanted to curl up and die. I'm so pitiful. What a fucking waste. I wish I was never born an omega.
Trying to bury whines and suffering hurt sometimes and in this instance it felt like a red hot poker was shoved down my throat.
"She stinks like sadness," Riley chuckled, shaking out his long brown hair and looking me over with disdain dripping from every pore.
"Lighten up, brother. She's only human," Kenz laughed, stepping in front of me and waving his hand behind his back.
Get out.
That's what he was telling me.
"Dinner will be brought up to you. If you're feeling hot then take your pills. We're leaving in the morning and we won't be back for a few weeks."
Oh, thank God, I could do without seeing my father and half of my brothers for weeks on end. Maybe finally I would be able to walk around without getting yelled at.
Three days of the freedom I thought I would be acquiring went by too fast. I'd been left with my brothers that were the easiest to deal with. Brady, Ronan, MacKenzie, Dash and Hunter were, of course, the easiest to deal with because they never nagged me and they were always too busy fucking betas to really give a shit what I was doing.
The house stunk of sex and carefree fun but more importantly it smelled of my freedom. I was able to go out in the garden to read, to sunbathe, to smell something that wasn't garbage. It was heavenly.
I'd seen flowers I've never seen before, ones that weren't there the last time I was in the gardens. Apparently Leticia, one of the pack chasers, suggested sprucing things up. When I suggested it to my father I got sent up to my room with no dinner and pills because I was acting 'out of order.' I'm a person not a goddamn machine. How could I possibly be out of order?
But now with the three days of freedom gone, I'm once again left up in my room without a single thing to do. Defiance curled in my bones and I narrowed my eyes at the white little pills on my bedside table.
My father wasn't here, he wouldn't know if I took them or not. I'd rather get a fever then take them and feel even sicker than before. Those pills made me nauseous and I felt like reality was so far out of touch that I'd never get back to it. I did end up spraying the scent blocker, though. Just one little spritz, just enough to save the visiting alphas downstairs from my monstrous odor.
They shouldn't be subjected to a disgusting omega. An embarrassment to the family.
The sprawling cabin estate was large before our eyes but it pales in comparison to the mansion we just created on the outskirts of the state.
"I don't like the smell," Jin murmured to us.
The smell was honestly horrific. These alphas seemed to stew in the scents of sex and their own pheromones. You could smell the female betas like they were throwing out a wide casting net to repulse everyone around them.
"Why the fuck did we agree to this?" Taehyung grumbled, folding his arms.
"Because although they're disgusting, they're rich as fuck and they have the land we need to start up the center," Namjoon replied evenly, fixing his tie.
I couldn't seem to take my eyes off the enlarged wooden cabin in front of us. That's exactly what it was: a large, gigantic wooden house. It would be almost comical if it wasn't very real.
"I don't even wanna touch the door," Hoseok hissed, taking to kicking the front door insead.
Even in this day and age everyone lives with the one soul purpose of finding their person, their omega but this pack didn't seem to care about finding one. Not with the way their lodgings smelled.
Now, of course, finding an omega that's right for your pack is like finding a unicorn or finding gold at the end of a rainbow but packs do it. Not all the time but enough to keep packs hopeful, at least.
Once the door swung open, a red headed alpha before us smiled widely. "Gents, welcome! The Pangborn Pack is happy to have you!"
Namjoon gave him his typical killer smile and the alpha seemed to relax at it. Our pack leader was all killer charm and easy going… until you fuck with his pack.
The seven of us have only had each other for quite a few years now and our family depends on one another more than most.
"Thank you for having us," Jimin smiled, stepping into the home first.
His eyes bounced around the interior before nodding. Once I stepped into the entryway behind him, the need to look at the inside faded. In the air, apart from the alpha scents were the scents of dinner and something so deliciously sweet that it made my mouth water.
Fuck! What is that smell?!
"Made us dessert?" Namjoon inquired with a laugh.
So he can smell that too.
The scent was warm and sugary like a fresh out of the oven sugar cookie with vanilla ice cream slowly melting on top.
Why the fuck was I about to nut over dessert?
Casting my eyes to Taehyung, I could see him tugging at the collar of his expensive dress shirt.
It was getting increasingly hot in here, that I could guarantee.
The scent was so thick and practically viscous I could feel it wrapping around my cock and tugging sensuously. My knot was two seconds from expanding and the desire to rut until I was sated was pressing indecently on my brain.
"No dessert here, lads. The betas can barely cook a steak without it burning! We ordered out for dinner tonight! Dinnae ken billionaires like you would be opposed to that, eh?"
"Dinnae ken means didn't think," another alpha offered, slipping in beside the redhead. His hair was long and brown, shaggy even with a boyish smile that could probably charm anyone he laid his eyes on.
"That sounds great," Jin replied, unbuttoning his suit jacket and cracking his neck.
Whatever that fucking scent is, it has us all by the balls.
Namjoon gripped his hand into a fist, eyes glazing over all of us. "To the dining room, then?"
"Getting right down to business! I love that! We have betas to look after anyway," Red chortled, wiggling his eyebrows at us.
When the group of us moved with the two other alphas, my heart started to hammer as the smell became stronger.
I tried to temper my growl that wormed its way up my throat but Joon caught it. "I don't know what it is but fuck, I want it so bad," he agreed.
"Alright there, lads?"
"Just have to use the restroom. Would you mind sending me in the right direction?" I inquired, needing to find the words through a thick haze of want.
"Bathroom on the first floor is occupied for the betas. Second floor up that staircase there," Red pointed to the staircase from where the scent is strongest. "Fifth door on the right."
With a nod, I set off trying not to falter and stumble from the exquisite smell.
"We'll be waiting in the dining room. The pack is excited to make this merger," the brown haired man smiled.
Once they were out of sight I took the stairs two at a time, eyes searching for any indication of where the scent came from.
I let my senses guide me. Following the smell took me past the bathroom and past any rooms that smelt of the alphas. Stopping at the end of the hallway, the door before me was completely different from the others. It was metal, almost sterile in a sense. But the scent was there, it was so heady and present that my cock stood to attention.
"Oh fuck," I grunted, shoving open the door and barreling up the stairs.
The hallway I rushed down was bare of anything home-y and it looks like some sort of clinical hospital ward.
The door at the other end suddenly opened in a flourish and the sweetest little thing I'd ever seen stepped out with curious, glazed eyes.
"Omega," I groaned long and low, stepping toward her.
She was the maddening scent. She was what my pack was going crazy over.
"Oh! I'm so… I've never–" the sweet thing whispered, looking me over with hunger.
The perfect woman. Right before my fucking eyes. Those lips, those sweet eyes, that adorable, if not a little scared smile, that fucking body. Built just for me and my other pack brothers.
Mine, mine, mine! Every cell in my body screamed it with frantic need.
"Why do you smell so good?" she whimpered, lifting a hand as if she wanted to touch me.
Please fucking touch me. Holy shit, I was going out of my fucking mind from this perfect little thing.
"What do I smell like, sweetness?" I inquired, stepping closer.
"Like warm hot chocolate and marshmallows. Not like garbage at all!" she gasped, looking up with wide, innocent eyes.
A laugh tumbled past my lips. What an innocent creature.
"Does everyone smell like garbage to you, sweetness?"
"I just want to…" she groaned, a whimper slipping past her lips.
A purr started in my chest, rattling my bones with how thick and heavy it was. Oh fuck, I'd never purred for anyone before.
"What do you want?" I asked softly, holding my hands up to show her I mean no harm.
She gripped my wrist with a dainty hand probably thinking it had a fierceness she didn't embody. She lifted my hand to her soft cheek and my purr started up once more.
"I'm so sorry," she apologized, not taking her eyes off mine. "I know omegas are disgusting. I shouldn't bother you."
The sweet purr she pulled from me turned to a growl in an instant. "You could never be disgusting. Omegas are precious. Didn't your alphas teach you that?"
She stared up at me, eyes starting to brim with tears.
Oh my God, she was everything I could have ever wanted. My pants were so fucking tight, my heart feels like it was gonna combust and I'm pretty damn sure I just met my fucking mate.
"They're not really my alphas," she whispered softly, keeping my wrist close to her nose.
I wanted to take this gorgeous woman and lock her away where no one but the pack can find her. Holy shit, my brain was turning to fucking mush.
"What are they then if not your alphas?" I asked, stepping closer.
When my chest brushed against hers, she perfumed the air for me and another purr ripped from my chest like it was an instrument being played purely for her.
"Brothers, father," she mumbled, lost in a haze of our own making.
"So you don't have a pack of your own, sweetness?" I whispered, coursing my thumb over her cheek.
"No one would want me. I'm useless," the omega replied so softly I might not have heard her if not for her keeping my attention ensnared.
"I highly doubt that, pretty girl. What's your name?"
"Y/N…"
Beautiful.
"I'm Jeongguk. It's nice to meet you, sweetness."
"I can't take it. I can't take it. I can't take it!" Jimin chanted, rushing into the hallway.
The omegas gasp was loud and frightened for only a moment until she laid eyes on the other alpha. I purred for her, watching her instantly relax at the noise.
"This is Jimin. He's a part of my pack. The Euphoria Pack."
"Oh no, I've…I've ruined dinner. My father will be so upset with me," she groaned, sounding not as upset as she probably would be if I wasn't purring up a fucking storm.
"Scent sympathetic. I thought it was like a fucking myth for people like us," Jimin laughed, stepping up beside me.
He didn't seem jealous or upset at all that my hands were on her. We've never tried for an omega, not really. Unfortunately, most omegas wanted us for our money and not for the connection. Not to mention most of the omegas we met smelled so cloyingly sweet that it gave us headaches for weeks. Most omegas wanted just some of us but not all of us and that doesn't bode well for a pack.
"You smell like calming tea and blueberries," Y/N breathed, blinking up at him.
"And you smell like a yummy dessert, sweetheart. How's such a pretty omega like you hidden up here away from everything?"
"Why are you being so nice to me? I'm just an omega," she whimpered, looking between us.
"'Just an omega'? Don't you know your worth, pretty girl?" I scoffed, tilting my head.
She opened her mouth to reply, only to shut it and furrow her eyebrows.
"I want to introduce her to the pack. I think this is it. I think we found our girl," Jimin beamed at me, allowing her to pull him closer.
She seemed to be a needy little thing. One we certainly wouldn't mind doting on. She also seemed completely out of touch with reality and it wasn't just because she was obsessed with our scents.
"Do you have a nest, sweetness? Would you care to show us?"
A nest is very sacred to omegas, it's one of the only places they can find comfort during heats and in times of stress. It was incredibly forward for me to ask but I wanted to know what she liked. I knew my hopes might be high but I wanted to set up the nest in the new mansion how she would like it. Because she was mine. She was ours. She belonged with us.
"I– What's a nest?" Y/N asked, eyebrows pinching innocently.
"Do not fucking tell me you're kept in the dark up here," Jimin growled deeply, his scent turning acidic.
Instead of turning tail and running, she started to… climb him?
She climbed him like a fucking tree. And the good looking bastard was all for it.
One arm snaked around her waist to keep her up and the other ran up and down her back in soothing motions.
She nuzzled his cheek and neck, whimpering and begging for his scent to be all over her.
"Good girl," Jimin cooed, purring for her. "Take what you want, sweetheart. We'll gladly give it."
There were rules to getting an omega, courting before mating and making sure your omega was happy and well looked after. In some cities omegas even went to Help Centers to find their perfect pack but Cypress City had no such thing. That was what we were trying to change. That was why we needed this deal with this pack.
"I don't know what's happening! I'm so sorry! I just feel so…"
"Overwhelmed?" Jimin offered, pulling back to look at her.
She nodded, whimpering and tucking her face into the crook of his neck.
"We need to talk to the pack," I told him, pressing my chest to her back and purring. I drifted the back of my hand over her bare arm and she seemed to thrive on not only praise but physical affection.
"I can't leave her," Jimin hissed over her shoulder, hugging her tighter at the thought of having to part.
"I don't want you to go! Please! I'm so tired of being alone! Please don't go!" she sobbed into his neck.
A growl ripped from my chest at her sadness and I was storming off before I even knew what was happening.
She's mine. She's mine. She's mine.
"Guk!" Jimin called but I was already barreling down the stairs with a fierceness building in my chest.
They kept that precious omega in a sterile fucking ward like she was some sort of disease. She didn't even know what a nest was! It was a disgrace! She'd been abused without even understanding anything!
She's mine!
If one more sob of hers entered my ears, I thought I might burn their oversized camp cabin down and dance on the embers.
Shoving open the dining room doors, I glowered at the pack that sat high and mighty at the end of the long dining room table. Once they saw me and smelled me, they all stood.
"Been wandering around our home, have you?" Red asked with the tilt of his head.
"Stupid girl can't do anything but get herself in trouble!" one of them sneered.
The insult made a growl rip from my throat and they all stared long and hard at me. I wouldn't stand for this. I couldn't stand for this.
"She doesn't even know what a fucking nest is. How dare you all treat an omega like this! This is abuse!" I boomed, widening my eyes at them.
My packs jaws fell open in shock and suddenly they were standing to surround me, to have my back.
"She's scent sympathetic with us," Jimin assured, entering the room with her still cradled to him.
I was happy she liked him. He's far more easy going and carefree then most of us and she'd enjoy his company.
My pack stepped toward her and she cried sweetly at all of their scents. They purred for her and my heart expanded. No one was left out and she locked eyes with all of them. She jumped ship from Jimin to Namjoon and he nuzzled her hair. He wrapped her legs around him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Would you like to leave this place, pet?" he inquired.
“She'll do no such thing!" Red boomed.
When she whimpered at the alpha bite, we growled in defiance.
"You think your bark is bad? Mine was given to me by the devil. If I have to force you to obey, I fucking will. It's the omegas choice. You can't keep her here like a fucking prisoner!" Joon boomed.
"She's not a part of the deal," one of the Pangborn's hissed through his teeth.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she gasped repeatedly, trying to set herself down.
"Do you want to get down, pet?" Namjoon asked, tilting her jaw to look up at him.
She reluctantly shook her head, burying her face back into his neck.
Oh fuck, she's so perfect and sweet.
"Then you stay exactly where you are," the pack leader whispered, giving her his wrist to be able to tilt his head and glower at the Pangborn pack.
"You expect me to pay? For a person?! Are you out of your small alpha minds?" Namjoon bit out, sneering at her brothers.
"MacKenzie… Dad is gonna flip," one of them breathed.
"I'm tired of always having to sneak Juliet around. Just be rid of her. Omegas are nothing but trouble."
Hoseok growled so loudly, something he never does, that it almost made my chest rattle.
"I know you don't know us very well," Seokjin breathed slowly as the other pack continued to argue. "But if you feel safe with us we'd like to take you somewhere you can be yourself and be happy. How does that sound, princess? You deserve much better than this shithole."
"I won't feel sick?" she inquired, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.
Oh, she's killing me here.
"Do you feel sick in this house?" Yoongi growled, narrowing his eyes at the other pack.
Her nod was slow and sad.
"I'm getting her out of here. Now!" Namjoon boomed, pressing her face into the scent gland of his neck.
She seemed to love being held. We could do that for her. We could give her anything and everything she wants. We could be good for her.
"Give us a million!" Red or MacKenzie called back but Namjoon was already heading for the door.
"Get fucked!" our pack leader growled.
"Wh-Where are we going?" Y/N asked, taking a deep breath of fresh air.
"Home, sweetness," I promised. "We're going home."
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One Day at a Time 🌙 1: I finally get to have you
Yoongi loves to help others. As a professional surrogate, he takes pride in using his body to help families bring life into this world, and love into their homes. But when his high school crush Kim Namjoon hires Yoongi to help him and his wife conceive, things get…precarious.
Or, Omega Yoongi gets bred by Alpha Namjoon and holy shit, does he fall in love.
🐺 Yoongi x Namjoon, established Namjoon x Wheein
🌙 word count: 19.9k
🌙 past acquaintances to lovers, a/b/o, mpreg, infidelity, angst, smut, eventual fluff, slash, nsfw, 21+
🌙 warnings: alpha/top Namjoon, omega/bottom Yoongi; Namjoon is married; Yoongi is a mess, and he cries a lot; a/b/o stuff (mating cycles, lots of scent stuff, wolf instincts, omega slick), angst (hormones raging, pining), a dash of ritualistic sex (it happens in the second act hehehe.)
🌙 note: hello, and welcome to my very first a/b/o fic! full notes on the index, but i wanted to thank @sailoryooons and @sweetestofchaos once more for all the help with this! reminder: infidelity is a big part of this fic, so if you’re not into that, you will not like this!!! take the warnings seriously!!! Yoongi is a mess but he's our mess and we love him. have fun!!!
🌙 written for one shot two shot fest
🌙 thanks to @neoneunnajimin & @sailoryooons for beta reading!
🌙 posted july 2023 | read on ao3
INDEX | NEXT
Yoongi never thought he would see Kim Namjoon again. Once he graduated from high school and the two of them went their separate ways – Yoongi to college in the countryside and Namjoon to marry the rich, pretty valedictorian – he hadn't expected their paths to cross. They had not, in fact, for nearly ten years.
The only time Namjoon ever fully acknowledged Yoongi was all those years ago in school, the week Yoongi first presented as omega. The news was a shock for everyone, most especially himself. Sure, Yoongi never saw himself as an alpha – preferring a softer, quieter life – rarely exhibiting dominant traits of any sort. But he anticipated the neutrality and normalcy of presenting as beta.
First were the hot flashes and overwhelming urge to bury himself in his softest, warmest cardigan. He hadn’t realized he was nuzzling his face into his sweater paws during math period until a classmate beside him asked a sharp, shrill, “What are you doing?” causing him to look up, confused and ashamed.
Yoongi had excused himself to the school nurse, worried he was coming down with some kind of fever, and he practically threw himself at her feet the moment a cramp radiated through his body, knocking him to his knees. He was certain he had food poisoning or some kind of stomach bug – what else could it have been? Certainly, he could not have been presenting as omega.
The nurse excused Yoongi from school through the duration of his first heat, which lasted about a week and a half. And the event itself was hell on earth, but nothing could have prepared him for returning to school. Somehow, everyone knew.
“A boy presenting as omega,” boys would say as they shoved Yoongi around, pushing him against lockers and towering over him like ravenous beasts. “That makes you worse than a girl.”
"He's pretty like a girl, though," one of the boys teased loudly.
“How does your dad feel?” they would ask in mocking tones – some of whom hadn’t yet presented, themselves. “Isn’t he ashamed of you?”
It was during lunch break that Namjoon – the tall, broad, handsome president of his class – came barreling around the corner and growled at those boys to get away from Yoongi.
“I had better not see any of you fucking whelps picking on him or any other omegas,” Namjoon roared, voice firm with authority with his chest puffed high, causing the bullies to scatter.
And although Yoongi had so much he wanted to say, when Namjoon asked if he was alright, all he could do in response was whimper a weak, “Uh-huh,” unable to find his words.
“I imagine this can’t be easy,” Namjoon finally said after a tense moment in the silent, fluorescent-lit hallway. “We can’t choose our circumstances, after all. But we can do our best with what we are given, one day at a time. Take care of yourself, Yoongi.”
And that was it; the only time his and Namjoon’s paths truly crossed. Yoongi would have been lying if he had said the event didn’t spark something inside him – the beginnings of a crush, perhaps – especially when he remembered the warm musk that wafted from the alpha with hints of sweet, kind tangerine and spicy, angry cinnamon.
But that was all it ever was…a crush. As soon as they graduated, Namjoon proposed to his girlfriend, and Yoongi left the city to pursue a life in nursing.
During the last few years, Yoongi has been working as a surrogate, assisting wealthy couples through their difficult times by lending his body to help conceive a child. Although it is always a bit awkward to be a presence in their homes, he enjoys the work. Yoongi likes to help others. The need to comfort and fix people is strong – overwhelming at times.
Naturally, when the call came to help one of the most affluent families in Seoul have a baby, Yoongi did not hesitate, nor did he know what to expect. He had, after all, left Seoul to live closer to his mom's small farmhouse near Daegu, and stopped worrying himself over who any of the wealthier families were.
So, on the car ride to town, when Yoongi read the names Kim Namjoon and Jung Wheein on the paperwork he almost did not believe his eyes. Surely, the Kim Namjoon and Jung Wheein he knew eight years ago could not be struggling with having a child. If anyone would have a happy, healthy, and typical family, he figures it would have been those two sweethearts.
“Earth to Yoongi,” a soft, stern voice calls, pulling Yoongi from his reverie.
Yoongi stands at the foot of the entrance of a rather impressive hanok on the outskirts of the city. He had spaced out during most of the ride, daydreaming about the only time he and Namjoon came face to face. Even now, standing at the man’s front door, he struggles to accept it, half expecting someone else to greet them.
“What does he do for a living?” Yoongi mutters under his breath as he joins his boss, a soft-spoken beta named Park Jimin, near the front door.
Jimin scoffs and shakes his head, causing his fluffy dark hair and shimmering silver earrings to wave back and forth from the motion, as he responds, “He’s the mayor, baby,” while placing a comforting hand on the small of Yoongi’s back – something he does when he expects Yoongi to overreact.
And overreact, he does.
“The may—“ Yoongi half-shouts before Jimin gently shushes him.
“But why—“ Yoongi continues, dropping his voice to a whisper, “—why didn’t you tell me? Jimin, why did you leave that detail out?”
“You know I love you because you’re the best, right?” Jimin asks, rubbing his palm over Yoongi’s back in circles, buttering him up before delivering the truth, as is his way.
“Right,” Yoongi responds slowly, nodding his head while his eyes lose focus on the cinnamon-brown wooden door before him.
“You’re sweet, caring, and very respectful,” Jimin continues, still very much not reaching the point. "Very discrete."
“Okay,” Yoongi huffs, “and?”
With a sigh, Jimin drops his voice lower and leans close, muttering, “I believe they asked for you specifically because you’re a man. They seem concerned about any of this reaching the media, so we have kept it all hush-hush, and I wonder if they do not want to be seen with a woman living in the house for the next year.”
“Oh.”
“The wife, she’s—“
“No, no, I get it,” Yoongi says, feeling a bit sullen.
Being chosen because he is a man is always a bit disheartening. Typically, as far as Yoongi can tell, it comes from the wife worrying that their husband may develop feelings for their surrogate, despite the process typically being a simple matter of collecting sperm and egg from each party and having them placed into Yoongi’s uterus using an in vitro process. At most, Yoongi has to stay in the homestead to carry the baby to term, sleeping with bedding that smells of the alpha of the house. Infidelity has never been an issue. In fact, most households treat Yoongi as if he hardly exists until the baby is finally born.
Yoongi performs his tasks dutifully and with the utmost care and respect, and for once, it would be nice to be recognized for his skills and abilities, and not for his gender. But, Yoongi grins and bears it. He is simply happy to be able to help.
“Ready?” Jimin asks, and Yoongi nods, feeling as ready as he could be, at this point.
Jimin removes his hand from Yoongi’s back, takes a step forward, and knocks on the door. And then they wait. A homestead this size must take a while to traverse through, and Yoongi crosses his hands over his tummy and twiddles his thumbs in anticipation, wondering if Namjoon will even recognize him.
When the door opens, a tall unfamiliar man with wide, curious eyes and short, somewhat wavy dark brown hair greets them with a bow of his head. For a split moment, Yoongi almost wonders if this could be Namjoon – if the names are merely coincidence. But then Wheein – the Jung Wheein Yoongi remembers from all those years ago, with long, dark hair and curious almond eyes – pops up from behind the man and smiles widely, waving them in.
Jimin enters first, then Yoongi, kicking off his sneakers and following as Wheein leads the mystery man, Jimin, and Yoongi through a foyer, past a kitchen, and into what looks like a study. The four of them take a seat on soft purple cushions around a large, low wooden table with a teapot and four cups in the center, with Wheein across from Yoongi and Jimin to his right.
“Min Yoongi,” Wheein beams as she sits high on her knees and reaches over the low table, emitting a calming bouquet of lavender.
Yoongi offers his hands to her, smiling as she takes them and squeezes them between both of hers. There is an unmissable sadness in her eyes, but she smiles widely as she pats his hands before letting them go.
“When I read your name on the list of potential surrogates, I just knew it had to be you,” she continues, taking Yoongi by surprise. He and Wheein have never, to his knowledge, said a word to one another.
“You did?” Yoongi asks, deep voice trembling slightly as he settles his hands over his knees.
Wheein nods enthusiastically while the man to Yoongi’s left begins to pour tea for the four of them.
“I just had a feeling. You went into nursing, right? You like to help others?”
With a demure nod, Yoongi says, “Yes,” surprised to find Wheein remembers him, and that she knows details of his life. He dreads the thought that Namjoon might, as well.
“I just knew you would be perfect for us,” she continues as her eyes travel to the man sitting at Yoongi’s left. “Don’t you think so, Jeonggukie?”
The man nods his head once, eyes fixed on Jimin as he mutters, “Yes, Wheein-ssi.”
“This is our in-house help, Jeon Jeongguk,” Wheein says, patting the hand of Jeongguk, who responds, “Lovely to meet you,” without taking his eyes off Jimin.
Yoongi mutters a greeting under his breath but does not bother trying to get the man’s attention; he is more than aware of the effect Jimin has on others. Instead, Yoongi picks up his small ceramic tea cup and holds it to his lips, blowing on it slightly before taking a sip. The faintly-earthy taste of herbs and leaves covers his tongue with warmth, instantly soothing at least some of his worries. Certainly not all of them.
“Sorry Namjoon couldn’t join us,” Wheein says with a hint of annoyance in her voice, cracking a smile that looks forced and does not reach far. Earthy, bitter hints of patchouli hang in the air as she chuckles under her breath as she mutters, “Gods forbid he leaves his precious office for one fucking meeting with our surrogate.”
Yoongi shifts on his knees and takes another sip from the cup. Meanwhile, everyone around him lifts their cups to drink, and he is relieved to see Jimin’s spell on Jeongguk seems at least temporarily be broken, allowing the three of them to have a conversation with Jeongguk present and quiet.
“I figure that for the first week, you’ll stay by my side and bond with me a little,” Wheein begins, surprising Yoongi with how suddenly she wants to get down to business, “and then we’ll knock you up and have you stay in a guesthouse that is scented like Namjoon so that the baby knows who his or her daddy is.”
“Pretty standard stuff,” Jimin mutters beside him, and Yoongi smiles as he nods along.
Wheein’s candor feels welcoming to Yoongi. The last two couples he worked with were rather depressed and embarrassed to need assistance with having a baby. It is his hope that, in the next ten or eleven months, he and Wheein can become close friends, making his stay in the large homestead a little less lonely.
"Do you remember Namjoon at all?" Wheein asks eagerly.
Yoongi glances over the teacup that he holds near his mouth, breathing in its comforting aroma, and he screws up his face just slightly enough to seem impassive as he shrugs and says, "The name sounds familiar. Perhaps when I see him, I will remember."
A lie, of course. If Yoongi thinks hard enough, he can remember precisely what Namjoon smelled like the day they spoke. He thinks, faintly, that Namjoon may have even had a mole or two on one of his cheeks, and has never forgotten his dimples.
"Do you need some time to consider the job, or would you like to move in tonight?” Wheein asks once the four of them have had a chance to discuss specifics a little more and finish the pot of tea. “We will want to go over a few specifications on the contract once everyone is here, but it should be pretty standard."
"I can move in right away," Yoongi says without giving it any thought. The sooner they get started, the sooner it can be all over with, he reasons. He already has a suitcase packed and waiting in the car.
"Wonderful," Wheein says as she stands and waits for Yoongi to do the same.
Once Yoongi is on his feet, Jimin bows and wishes him well, saying they will meet again tomorrow when Namjoon is around to go over the contract. Jeongguk leads Jimin back out to the front door, standing quite close and muttering quietly as the two of them leave the room together.
"I can't wait for the two of us to become best friends," Wheein says sweetly as Yoongi steps from the table and joins her at her side, allowing her to wrap an arm around his waist and pull him into a side hug.
The smile that creeps over Yoongi's lips is genuine, and he allows himself to be hugged, lifting an arm to delicately caress her back for just a moment. He familiarizes himself with her scent of lavender with hints of patchouli – sweet with an undercurrent of spice and wet soil.
Wheein leads Yoongi into a large kitchen and sits him at the tall white marble counter. Yoongi marvels at the blend of traditional and modern, with the general foundation of the hanok resembling what it may have centuries ago despite the marble counters and stainless steel appliances.
"Let's make a list of all the things you love to eat, especially when you are in heat and when you are pregnant."
Although Yoongi cannot imagine why he would need to accommodate a heat cycle, he rattles off everything he can think of, making sure bases are covered. There is a chance that his pregnancy cravings will be similar to those he gets while in heat, once they inject the little cub cells into his uterus and the growing begins.
He also makes note of some herbs that he needs to avoid in order to not counteract the heat-blockers he takes, and Wheein smiles to herself as she circles ginger, ginseng, and sage while adding three large exclamation marks next to the words to signify what he must avoid.
About an hour passes with Yoongi and Wheein chatting in the kitchen about food, being pregnant, and anything else Wheein thinks of. She is great company, offering Yoongi white wine and keeping his glass topped off as they talk. He feels hopeful about his stay in her house, looking forward to getting to know her more as she opens up.
And then Namjoon returns home, and things…shift. It is subtle, but noticeable. Wheein's voice quiets when the front door opens, and she keeps her eyes on the foyer once the sounds of shoes getting kicked off thuds one after the other.
"Someone here?" a deep, familiar voice calls, causing Yoongi's skin to break out in goosebumps, and Namjoon steps around a corner, stopping in his tracks when he meets Yoongi's gaze.
Namjoon is just as tall as Yoongi remembers, and quite a bit more built, chest and arms bulging against the thin white shirt that covers him, which is tucked into fitted grey slacks. His hair is overgrown into a bit of a dark mullet, and he shakes it from his warm, sharp eyes, only for it to fall back in place again.
"Oh," he says. "It's you."
Yoongi opens his mouth to respond, lifting a hand to wave, but Namjoon mutters, "Should the two of you really be drinking?" while walking in the opposite direction, toward a hallway that Yoongi surmises must lead to the master suite, or perhaps to an office. The familiar scent of warm musk wafts through the air, with faint hints of cinnamon, and as soon as it is there, it is gone again.
Wheein lets out a petulant, "Humph!" and grabs the bottle of wine, dumping the rest of its contents between their two glasses as if in protest to Namjoon's question.
Then, as soon as the man of the house is down the hallway and disappears into a doorway off to the left, her face brightens once more, and she continues asking Yoongi about childbirth as if nothing had happened. Wheein is a curious woman, eager to know every gritty detail from cell growth to carrying a baby to term. And although Yoongi finds the process a little disgusting, he gladly answers all of her questions.
Tipsy from drinking and only having snacked on crackers and tiny slabs of cheese, Wheein decides that the night is over once the glasses of wine are empty. She takes Yoongi by the crook of an elbow and leads him over to the hall in which Namjoon disappeared.
"Bedrooms are here," Wheein says, waving her hand in the general direction of five doors – two on either side of the hallway and one at the far end. "That one on the end—" she points straight ahead, "—is the bathroom. And this—" she places her palm on the first door on the right and presses it open, "—is your bedroom. The bedding smells faintly like Namjoon so that you can get used to it. Hopefully you don't find it too unpleasant. In the morning, Park Jimin-ssi will return and we will go over the contract."
Yoongi nods along, smiling while staring ahead at the bathroom door, trying to imagine which door on the left Namjoon went through. Not that it is any of his business – nor should he care – but he is…curious. The Namjoon he encountered all those years ago seems so different from the terse man who Yoongi hardly caught sight or whiff of tonight.
"S-sounds good," Yoongi finally responds, and Wheein pulls him into a half-hug from the side before letting him go and walking straight across the hall, opening that door just enough to slip inside, and closing it softly behind, taking the lavender with hints of patchouli with her.
Yoongi hesitates a moment – hovers in place and holds his breath as if to listen for any sound to come from Namjoon through that door. But all is still, and Yoongi shifts left to right on his feet before turning to the guest room and feeling around the wall for a light switch.
The room is furnished with a bed, bedside table, dresser and mirror, and a wall-mounted television. Beside the dresser is Yoongi's suitcase, which he surmises Jeongguk must have brought inside, and above the suitcase is a large window. Yoongi approaches his suitcase, lays it down, and unzips it, finding a set of light blue pajamas, and running his fingertips over the soft flannel material as he looks around, taking in the sight of his temporary home.
How did he end up here, he wonders. Standing in the mayor's home – Kim Namjoon's home – wine drunk with Jung Wheein, the valedictorian who Yoongi was certain until this point had never been aware of his existence.
As he sheds his clothing and gets dressed in the pajamas, sleep begins to claw at Yoongi, pulling his subconscious down, and making him want nothing more than to crawl under the covers. He picks his clothing up from the floor, approaches the dresser, and tosses the garments into a small pile in the corner.
Outside the room, he thinks he hears the sound of a floorboard creek, and he stands still, listening for more movement. Seconds pass, heavy and full of anticipation, and Yoongi could swear the scent of tangerine and warm musk fills his senses, making him sway slightly where he stands.
But then, he reasons that it must just be the bedding that Wheein said would hold Namjoon's scent, and he brings his drifting thoughts to a stop, making his way to the bed and pulling the pale yellow covers aside to climb under.
Only in his wildest dreams would Namjoon be in the hallway, filling the space with more of his calming scent, and Yoongi tells himself that he needs to snap out of it and come back to reality before he gets too caught up pining for a married man he hardly knows.
But, for now, he shuts his eyes and allows himself to imagine.
Yoongi is barely alert, sitting at the tall dining table nursing a steaming cup of black coffee when Namjoon enters the room in what Yoongi surmises is his standard work uniform of a white button-up tucked into grey slacks, taking a seat to his right. The coffee is peculiar, giving off an herbal scent that Yoongi cannot quite place, but it is not unwelcoming, and he gulps some down, feeling his nerves spike.
Wheein sits in front of him, and to his left, Jimin is present and far too perky and alert considering the ungodly hour, wearing a pair of wire-framed glasses that rest at the end of his nose and a white button-up tucked into black slacks. The house-help Jeongguk, who is dressed in all-black casual clothing, busies himself in the kitchen.
"Now that we are all here," Namjoon begins, voice hoarse and far deeper than Yoongi remembers, causing the little hairs on his arms to stand to attention, "we have the final draft of the contract to look over."
Namjoon slides a small stack of papers to the center of the table, which Jimin shifts forward to collect, and their scents collide somewhere in the middle – warm musk, lilacs, tangerines, and a salty hint of sea breeze. Yoongi feels a wave of dizziness hit him, and he sits back, letting his coffee cup thunk a little too hard against the restored wooden table.
A delicate hand reaches over, tapping him on the wrist and adding tangy patchouli to the ever-engulfing blend of aromas, and Yoongi's eyes snap upward to find Wheein smiling with her brows knit.
"Are you alright, my dear?" she asks, and Yoongi nods, swallows a lump, and mutters, "Fine. S-still waking up, I guess."
Heat prickles under every inch of skin that is covered with clothing, making Yoongi shift uncomfortably and yearn for cool air or a nice cold shower. It is almost as if a heat is coming on, which is impossible, because of the medication he takes to block it.
"The only order of business in this contract that should differ from how your company ordinarily proceeds," Namjoon continues, ignoring the exchange between Yoongi and Wheein, "is the method of becoming pregnant."
At this, Yoongi sits alert and turns to Jimin, who is looking over the contract with too trained of an expression. Something is absolutely off, and Yoongi's heart begins to pound wildly in his chest.
"D-different method?" Yoongi asks, feeling as if the room is spinning and too fucking warm.
"My family is very…let's say…traditional," Namjoon clarifies, and Yoongi turns to him with wide, worried eyes, only to find that he is staring ahead at the table with a somewhat distraught look on his face. "Any insemination and childbirth practices need to be performed as rituals to the old gods and the new…if you catch my drift."
At this, Namjoon's eyes lift, but to Jimin, across from him. Yoongi turns sharply and finds his boss looking up at Namjoon before his eyes trail to Yoongi. A cloying mix of calming aromas wafts from every side of Yoongi, and he practically gags on it.
"Yoongi, baby," Jimin utters softly – sweetly, as if he knows that the information he has for Yoongi is going to send him into a tailspin. Only, Yoongi is already in a tailspin because he has just been told that, in order to perform the duties which he has been hired to perform, he and Namjoon are going to have to— "Are you still with us?"
"Did you…do something to my coffee?" Yoongi asks against his better judgment, feeling nausea creep at a rapid pace, clouding his vision in the corners.
At this, Wheein slams her hands on the table and stands, sending her chair grinding backward while shouting, "What did you just say?"
"I'm s— I'm sorry," Yoongi tries, placing his palms face-down on the table and gripping tightly to the edge. He feels like he might vomit, and he needs to find his way out of this conversation.
"How dare you accuse us of such a thing!" Wheein continues, voice fading in and out as if Yoongi's head is bobbing above and below water.
"Sir," Jeongguk speaks softly, placing a hand on Yoongi's shoulder that feels too hot to the touch. "Could this reaction possibly be from the herbal blend?"
"H-herbal blend?" Yoongi asks, feeling panic quake through him.
Yoongi's mouth feels terribly dry, and he picks up the coffee, pulling it to his lips and gulping the tepid bitter liquid down. Perhaps he should ask for water instead, but his body is drenched, his mouth is parched, and he can hardly form his thoughts coherently enough to turn them into words. He can practically feel a new layer of sweat break over his forehead, and he sets the cup down with shaking hands while reaching up to push the overgrown dark brown hair away from his forehead.
Jeongguk hums and says, "The herbal blend that Wheein-ssi likes me to add to her coffee and tea contains extract of ginger, ginseng, and sage. I saw that on your list and assumed you would like more than what was added to your tea last night, so I gave you twice the amount."
The sweat that covers Yoongi goes cold, and he sits up suddenly, knocking the wooden chair onto its back in the process, glancing up at the occupants of the table to see if perhaps this is some joke they are playing on him. Jimin appears horrified, Namjoon stares down at the wooden table, and Wheein's eyes widen. She looks to Jeongguk with knit brows, shaking her head in small movements, and something in her expression suggests he should not have said what he just said.
"But, Wheein-ssi, your list—"
"Jeonggukah, those were items Yoongi was not supposed to consume!"
"But we want him to go into heat, so he becomes pregnant," Jeongguk continues innocently, forcing Yoongi to spin on the balls of his feet to stumble out of the room.
The air is stifling, the room is spinning, and Yoongi is going to vomit any minute. He fumbles toward the hallway, stepping through the threshold just in time for the corridor to stretch impossibly long. Before he knows it, he is on his hands and knees, barely aware of the feeling of his impact against the floor, doing his best to crawl to where he needs to go.
"Alright, you," Jimin's voice greets Yoongi, causing tears to well in his eyes. "Let's get you on your feet."
Yoongi feels embarrassed, having made a terrible impression on the family for which he has been hired to surrogate. Surely, someone like Namjoon is not going to want a weak, sniveling omega in his home, carrying his child. And the idea that Yoongi will have to do everything the traditional way sends a new set of fears quaking through him.
Despite his line of work, Yoongi has never had sex with an alpha. He has never experienced a knot, nor has he been marked in any way. Everyone at the clinic assured him that folks these days do not tend to have traditional pregnancies, so Yoongi assumed it would not be an issue. Or, at the very least, he assumed the conversation would take place before he was sat in their home, drinking their herbal-infused coffee.
Yoongi smells the musk before he feels two large hands lift him, and he yelps when he is suddenly up on his feet with his arm draped over the muscular shoulders of Namjoon, who is crouched forward to accommodate his height.
"Bathroom is straight ahead," Namjoon mutters, and Jimin scurries forward, opening the door and switching on a light while Namjoon assists Yoongi in walking down the hallway.
The musk is far more overpowering than anything Yoongi has experienced, radiating from Namjoon's neck and armpit, blanketing him in warm intoxication, and Yoongi leans his head to the side, eager for more. He wonders what Namjoon's sweat must taste like, licking his lips at the thought.
But then Namjoon gets him through the doorway and maneuvers him against the sink with his butt resting against cold marble, and he slides away, taking much of the musk with him, only allowing hints laced with cinnamon and tangerine to linger.
Yoongi can hear rustling – the opening and closing of a cabinet door and the running of water behind him – all while the blend of scents from Namjoon and Jimin mingle and dance through the small space. Yoongi's eyes rest closed, and he breathes deeply in through his nose, letting the air escape shakily through his mouth.
"I didn't mean to accuse—" Yoongi begins, but Jimin shushes him at the same time a cold cloth is pressed against his forehead.
"I imagine all of this is…a lot for you," Namjoon says softly, taking Yoongi by surprise. He expected Jimin to be the one with calming words, not the gruff alpha who hasn't so much as looked him in the eyes since their so-called meeting began.
Yoongi keeps his eyes closed, determined not to ruin the moment. If this is the only way he can get the man to speak to him, then so be it.
"I really like Wheein-ssi," Yoongi continues, knitting his brows beneath the cold cloth. It feels nice and pulls him from the jumble of physical and emotional overstimulation, grounding him somewhat while his own scent of chamomile engulfs and calms him. "I hope that I didn't hurt her feelings."
"We'll talk more once you're feeling better," Namjoon says.
Yoongi wants to open his eyes and look at the man – really search his expression for how he must be feeling – but he keeps his eyes closed and lets out a deep exhale.
"If you change your mind about doing this—" Namjoon continues, and Yoongi shakes his head.
Long ago, when Yoongi was too weak to stand up for himself, Namjoon was the one who helped him. Namjoon was his beacon of hope in a dark, confusing time, and Yoongi wants to repay him in any way he can – in the only way he can.
"I won't change my mind," is all he can bring himself to say, eager to keep his emotions at bay, lest a spike in pheromones tattles on him. At some point, he and Namjoon are going to need to have a conversation.
There is the question of why Wheein never said anything last night, when she and Yoongi were making their list. She had to have known that the three ingredients that Yoongi stressed he could not have were in the herbal blend that he presumes has been added to both his tea and his coffee. Was she hoping to force Yoongi into a heat cycle as soon as possible?
Whatever the reason, Yoongi is concerned, but he is certain that her intent could not have been malicious, and so he lets it go. Perhaps they will discuss it down the line, but for now, he just wants to lie down. He has no idea how long it may take for the herbal mixture to induce a heat, and he is not eager to be standing in the bathroom with his boss and an alpha who he hardly knows, when the time comes.
The herbal blend causes Yoongi's entire system to go haywire quickly. Perhaps it is because he only allows for a heat to come after giving birth before continuing on the blockers – about once a year – making his body desperate for a cycle, but he hardly gets through the afternoon before every inch of him yearns for Namjoon.
The alpha's scent on his bedding drives Yoongi wild, and he rubs his face against his pillow almost frantically, letting out soft whimpers and growls when it is not enough to stave his desires. There is a part of him that wonders if anyone might be able to overhear him, and shame simmers just beneath his skin. But he is so overcome with desperation that he cannot bring himself to care very much.
Yoongi must fall asleep at some point, because a light knock at the door rouses him, causing him to sit up with a start, groaning and wiping drool from his chin.
"Yoongi-ssi?" Jeongguk's voice calls through the door. "Would you like to join us for dinner?"
Although Yoongi would like nothing more than to eat something, and to sit in the presence of Namjoon’s inviting scent, leaving the room and being present in front of everyone feels daunting, at best. Overwhelming. He is not ashamed of his body's natural functions, but he feels hesitant to encounter people he hardly knows when his hormones are running amuck.
Another soft knock comes, and Yoongi clears his throat before hoarsely shouting, "N-no thank you."
After a pause, there is another knock at the door, but this one sounds different – more purposeful.
"Yoongi?" Namjoon calls. "Can I come in?"
Suddenly, faced with the prospect of being in Namjoon's presence makes Yoongi panic, and he curls in on himself, tugging the yellow comforter over his body and up to his chin.
"I—" Yoongi calls back, eyes searching the room aimlessly while he tries to think of something to say. "Now isn't the best time."
Yoongi is unsure if he hears a sigh on the other side of the door, and he listens for an indication that Namjoon has walked away. To his chagrin, Namjoon responds.
"Are you indecent? Can I at least crack the door open?"
"Fine," Yoongi replies, screwing his eyes closed to take a deep, fortifying breath.
The door opens a few inches, and with the head of the bed against the same wall, Namjoon only has to peek in a little for their gazes to meet. Although it is subtle, Yoongi sees Namjoon's nostrils flare and eyes widen.
"I'm—" Yoongi feels apologetic and shy, "s-sorry, I guess my heat has come."
"Don't apologize," Namjoon responds, voice sounding a bit hazier than Yoongi is used to. "Just wanted to make sure you don't need anything. I can have Jeongguk bring you some food and a cup of tea. Do you usually take any medications?"
"I don’t usually take medicines," Yoongi responds softly. Ordinarily, he gets the typical hot flashes and neediness; cramping is rare. He tends to it by holing up in his apartment and drinking herbal teas that quell some of the more primal instincts; he has no idea what it is like to go into heat surrounded by the alluring stench of an alpha. "Do you have any hibiscus tea?"
Namjoon's face disappears, and then Jeongguk appears, making Yoongi clench onto his blanket in disappointment.
"Hibiscus tea, got it." Jeongguk responds. "I can make you a pot of kimchi soup if you would like?"
Although Yoongi would rather turn away the offer of anything more than a cup of tea, already feeling like a burden in someone else's home, the thought of the tangy, rich broth and a bowl of steamed rice makes his stomach growl loudly.
"That would be nice," Yoongi responds, squeezing his eyes tight to the sound of the door closing quietly. "Thank you."
Yoongi has no idea how long it takes for Jeongguk to return. It feels like only seconds pass, yet some of them could have been stretched for eons. The atmosphere around Yoongi is thick with tense confusion and desire, and he has no fucking clue how to proceed.
A knock at the door startles Yoongi, and he sits up, pushing and kicking the yellow comforter away, embarrassed by how his body oozes with the heady scent of pomegranate, tangy and clinging to the air with trace amounts of chamomile. His limbs wobble, heavy and shaking like a tree caught in a storm, and it takes him a moment to catch his breath once he is on his feet.
"Just a second," Yoongi grumbles, adjusting the white tee that has come untucked from his fitted light blue jeans. The materials cling to him, and he avoids checking his reflection in the mirror across the room.
Yoongi opens the door a crack, just enough to see through. He does not miss the way Jeongguk's nostrils flare and eyes widen as he takes in the state of Yoongi. And although he feels embarrassed suddenly to be perceived this way, he swallows a lump and opens the door further to reach for the tray in Jeongguk's hands.
"Why don't you let me bring it in?" Jeongguk offers, making Yoongi feel even more put on the spot than before. But Jeongguk has a good point. After all, the tray contains two items storing hot liquid, and Yoongi is just jittery enough to make the task extremely precarious.
Yoongi nods and grumbles, "Oh–okay," as he takes a step back and allows Jeongguk to enter the room, closing the door quickly behind him. He is not eager for Namjoon or Wheein to smell him in this state – not until he can shower.
"Your heat must have come on fast," Jeongguk states evenly as he walks to the bed and places the tray on top. It is wooden, with four small legs, creating a nice little table atop the ruffled comforter. With him, a light floral scent carries through the space.
"Yeah," Yoongi responds sheepishly, hugging his arms around himself. "I use the same herbal mixture to induce a heat once a year, and typically only one cup of tea does the trick."
Jeongguk turns with wide eyes, repeating, "Once a year?"
"Typically, my job is done in vitro," Yoongi explains, eyes trailing around the room, unable to settle on one spot. "I find that it is best if my hormones are kept under control. I only induce a heat once the baby has been delivered, to help my body restart, and then I take heat-blockers once the cycle ends."
"Ahhh," Jeongguk mutters. "Well, I am quite used to helping Wheein-ssi through her heats, so if there is anything you need, don't be shy."
Yoongi is surprised by this information. Shouldn't the alpha of the house be helping Wheein? Jeongguk – who, Yoongi surmises, must be a beta – seems like lovely help, but is he really capable of helping Wheein with all of her needs? The man hardly has a scent, only radiating hints of something sweet and floral that Yoongi cannot place.
"Thank you, Jeongguk-ssi," Yoongi responds with a bow of his head. "I appreciate all you have done for me, already."
Silence hangs, and when Yoongi glances up, it seems as if Jeongguk has more that he would like to say. He stares ahead, clearly processing something, with his lips hanging slack. But then he blinks heavily and gives his head a little shake before saying, "Also, when you are ready to, Namjoon would like to meet with you to go over the contract and discuss a timeline."
"Oh," Yoongi says, realizing they never finalized it earlier. "Yes, of course."
"His phone number is on a little slip of paper, sitting beside your rice," Jeongguk instructs with one more bow of his head. "Please text him at your earliest convenience."
Texting Namjoon rather than knocking on a door seems somewhat silly, but Yoongi does not argue. He supposes he is grateful to have a simple way to get in touch with him that also allows for there to be some distance.
Jeongguk exits the room, closing the door quietly behind him, and Yoongi lets out a deep breath and rubs his sweaty palms against his jeans. The smell of the soup and tea dance beautifully, covering enough of Namjoon's lingering musk to allow Yoongi's head to clear as he approaches the bedside table and picks up his phone.
He settles slowly onto the bed, careful not to jostle the tray, and finds the small piece of paper with a phone number scribbled on it. The numbers are clean with very straight lines and circular loops, and Yoongi lifts it before he can think better of it, sniffing the paper, picking up hints of tangerine and cinnamon. So this is Namjoon's handwriting, Yoongi thinks, inspecting it closer. It looks nice.
A soft haze settles over Yoongi – a humming that vibrates just below his skin – and he takes a slow breath as he begins to punch Namjoon's number into his phone. He considers all the things he could say to the man, worrying in circles over whether he should apologize for his entire existence. In the end, he settles for something simple.
Yoongi
Hello, Namjoon-ssi. This is Yoongi. Jeongguk-ssi mentioned you wanted to talk with me.
With a tremble in his hands, he sets his phone down and begins to eat. Jeongguk brought kimchi soup, rice, glass noodles, and a cup of hibiscus tea, and everything is flavored perfectly – savory with tangy and sweet notes here and there, the way mom makes it. Although the soup and tea are both hot, they soothe Yoongi, putting his hot flashes at bay. He is nearly done with his meal and feeling much calmer than before, when his phone vibrates.
Namjoon
Yoongi-ssi, I would like to meet at your earliest convenience. No rush; eat first.
Yoongi has to scoff at how stuffy Namjoon seems, even over text. He supposes he is the one who set the tone in the first place, but he has to wonder if the detached alpha would text the same way, regardless. Yoongi nibbles on the inside of his cheek, deciding what would be best. On one hand, he hates to keep someone waiting, but on the other…he cannot decide whether he wants to face Namjoon smelling the way he does.
Yoongi
Perhaps after I freshen up a bit? A fever hit earlier, and I am not at my best.
Before Yoongi has a chance to set his phone down, it vibrates; he is surprised by how quickly Namjoon responds.
Namjoon
Of course. Take your time! I usually go for late jogs, so if I am not in the house, I'll be out back. You are welcome to join me if you would like.
Namjoon's hanok is situated at the end of a suburban area, with enough land between his place and the nearby houses to have seclusion. Perfect for an alpha who likes to let off some steam in a bit of nature. Although Yoongi does not jog often, the primal part of him loves to get lost in the thick of trees, listening to branches crunch underfoot while he exerts himself and lets his worries breeze away. Perhaps jogging with Namjoon is just what he needs.
Yoongi
A jog would be nice. I'll shower now and join you in just a bit.
Namjoon
Sounds good.
Yoongi makes quick work of finishing his food, suddenly feeling excited at the prospect of getting some fresh air. He grabs a pair of black joggers and a black tee, and leaves the room, turning briefly to see Wheein and Jeongguk sharing a glass of wine in the kitchen. He wonders if Namjoon is already getting dressed and waiting, and scurries to the bathroom at the end of the hall, closing the door tight behind him and switching on the light.
Yoongi peels the sweat-drenched clothing away and drops them into a pile on the floor, then figures out the knobs of the shower, setting the water nice and temperate – not too hot – before slipping in. The water is a warm embrace, instantly shedding some of Yoongi's anxieties, and he smiles to himself, tipping his head back with his eyes closed, allowing the steady spray to wash over him.
After a few calming moments, Yoongi peeks his head from the shower curtain to find small cloths folded on a shelf at eye level and grabs one, then assesses the bottles for body wash. To his surprise, everything smells like chamomile or tangerine, making Yoongi chuckle. He wonders if it is a coincidence or if they planned for this. Had Namjoon remembered what Yoongi smelled like, after all this time?
Yoongi scrubs his body with chamomile, then washes and conditions his hair with tangerine. Once he is satisfied, he stands under the stream with his eyes closed for another twenty seconds or so, then shuts off the water, pokes an arm past the shower curtain, and grabs a large towel from the same eye level shelf. He dries off quickly, then changes into his clean clothing and shoots a text off to Namjoon.
Yoongi
Just finished showering. Are you inside or outside?
Namjoon
I’m still inside. Meet in the hallway?
Yoongi
See you there.
Yoongi brushes his teeth and slaps some moisturizer on his face – beauty products courtesy of Namjoon and Wheein – then hangs up his towel and grabs his discarded clothing, which reek of tangy pomegranate. He scrunches his nose, tired of smelling it.
When he exits the shower, Namjoon is standing in the hallway, and the sight of him makes Yoongi halt in place, nearly tripping over his feet. He wears a tight black tank top and black athletic shorts that stop mid-thigh. And oh, Namjoon's thighs…He knew Namjoon was ripped, but seeing him in athletic wear is something else altogether.
Yoongi has to force his eyes up and tell himself that staring is impolite. But the man is built like a sturdy tree that Yoongi finds himself wanting to climb — a dangerous thought, and one he brushes off as a product of his heat.
He is relieved to find Namjoon turning his attention from the phone in his hands to him only after he finishes ogling him, and Yoongi clears his throat quietly before making his way down the hall.
"Just gonna toss these clothes into the room quick," Yoongi mutters as he approaches.
Namjoon regards him with a brief nod, then continues typing on his phone, and Yoongi opens the door to the room and slips in, tossing the clothing toward the bed and grabbing a pair of sneakers before returning, doing his best to keep his stench of pheromones and sweat trapped.
When he returns, Namjoon is standing straight up with his arms at his sides, and his head tipped slightly back. His eyes are closed, and he appears to be taking a deep breath in through his nose, filling his lungs. Yoongi wonders if he does this to get into a proper headspace to run – calmly intake oxygen to help his muscles relax.
But when Namjoon opens his eyes and looks at Yoongi, his pupils are blown wide and there is something burning in his gaze that causes Yoongi to instinctively take a step back. The way Namjoon looks at him makes Yoongi feel vulnerable and exposed. If he didn't know any better, he would think the alpha wants to eat him.
Namjoon heavy-blinks and clears his throat, dispelling the tension between them, and turns to exit the hallway. To the left, through the main living room, is a door that appears to lead to the back of the property. Namjoon approaches, bends to pick up a pair of shoes beside the exit, and begins putting them on, while Yoongi slides into his sneakers, staying a good six feet or so away from Namjoon, trying his best not to get too much of a whiff of him, breathing primarily through his mouth.
By the time Namjoon straightens out, Yoongi is finishing up tying his second shoe. In the other room, Yoongi can hear Wheein and Jeongguk laughing together. He finds it a bit strange that Namjoon and Wheein do not seem to communicate much, but assumes that is how it is, sometimes. He wonders if being unable to conceive has put a strain on their marriage before deciding it is none of his business.
"Ready?" Namjoon asks, voice deeper and breathier than Yoongi remembers, making him stand alert.
"Yeah," Yoongi responds, sliding his hands into the pockets of his joggers as Namjoon opens the back door and steps outside, audibly taking a deep breath and sighing.
Yoongi nudges the door with his elbow on his way out, then half-turns to pull it closed quietly. The sun has already begun to set, painting the sky orange and pink, and there is a chill in the air that makes Yoongi scrunch his shoulders to his ears momentarily as he steps out onto the small wooden deck. It feels nice, and he rolls his shoulders back, taking in a deep breath of dirt, grass, and citrus.
"Shit," Namjoon mutters under his breath, turning back toward the house.
Yoongi hums and looks at Namjoon, feeling momentarily worried that something may be wrong.
"The contract," Namjoon clarifies, shifting in place as if he is unsure where he wants to be. "I wanted to go over the terms and finalize everything, but I left it in the office."
"Ah," Yoongi says. He wonders if having a paper contract outside while they intend to exercise is practical in the first place, and suggests an alternative. "What if we discuss the terms, and when we return inside, we can sign it? I assume you have gone over everything, and I can give it a quick read."
Namjoon knits his brow, considering Yoongi's proposition, then nods. "Yeah," he says, eyes on the wooden floor of the deck rather than meeting Yoongi's gaze, "that sounds good."
Yoongi nods and takes in the scenery around him. Behind Namjoon's hanok, the land opens up to a large yard with an inground pool. Past the pool ahead is a wooded area, with thick trees and brush, and to the left is a small bungalow that he surmises must be the guesthouse. Yoongi wonders how much of the land belongs to Namjoon; how far they can run.
"This path zig-zags through the trees, out the other side," Namjoon explains as if reading his mind. "I like to run the path, and continue along the residential area on the other side, to a park that is a few miles away. We don't have to run the entire length…whatever you feel like."
"Sounds good," Yoongi responds, waiting for Namjoon to lead the way.
Namjoon walks ahead, down the three steps that lead to a path that wraps around the pool to the right and into the trees, slowly picking up his pace. Yoongi follows, then steps in pace with Namjoon. It is a leisurely jog, and Yoongi instantly feels a calm rush over him at the feeling of the evening wind in his shoulder-length hair, though he wishes he had brought a hair tie.
"The main clause in the contract is that we have to actually, er—" Namjoon begins, cutting himself off until only the sound of gunite underfoot can be heard.
"Procreate," Yoongi offers, cringing instantly at his choice of word.
Luckily, it makes Namjoon chuckle, lightening the mood. "Yes, procreate."
Silence falls between them, and they approach the edge of the wooded area before Namjoon asks, "Does that make you uncomfortable?"
Yoongi takes a moment to answer, curious how forthcoming he should be with Namjoon. He wonders if it is necessary for the alpha to know that he has never taken a knot before. Underfoot, the path becomes dirt with twigs and leaves crunching as they begin to jog past the edge of the trees.
"Not uncomfortable," Yoongi says, eyes on the path, which is more than wide enough for two. "I was a bit surprised, since that is different from how things are typically done these days, but I respect the old ways just as much as the new. As long as you and your wife are comfortable."
For the briefest of moments, Yoongi could swear Namjoon's cinnamon scent bitterly stings the air, but just as soon as it arrives, it is gone. It is not uncommon for the tangier or sharper of the smells someone has to be strongest when they are feeling heightened levels of irritation, anger, annoyance, depression, and so on. Briefly, Yoongi worries whether something he said bothered Namjoon.
"I am comfortable as long as you are," Namjoon responds somewhat tersely as they take a left turn and the path straightens out before turning right up ahead.
Again, silence falls, and Yoongi listens to the scurry of rodents and the soft calls of birds. To the right, through the wooded area, Yoongi can see more of the path. It appears to snake through the trees from right to left to right again with wooded areas in between. It is peaceful, and Yoongi is grateful that Namjoon invited him. For the first time since his heat began, he feels calm and in control of his own body.
Once his heat fully hits, he will not be so mobile. The first wave is a bit of a warning, ebbing and flowing before coming in full swing. In a day or two, he expects to lock himself in that small bedroom and hide away from everyone until it passes, or at least until they mate. Although omegas are most fertile while in heat, he and Namjoon still need to discuss a timeline for everything.
"Is there a good time for us to…" Yoongi trails off, taking the curve to the right and continuing in step beside Namjoon. He squeezes his eyes shut for a split second and curses himself for being so awkward; he is an adult, discussing a contractual agreement with another adult. Just because there is sex involved, does not mean he should struggle to discuss it.
"For us to…?" Namjoon asks when the silence draws on a little long.
The thought of laying sprawled out beneath Namjoon, looking up at him while his hair clings to his sweaty forehead flashes in Yoongi's mind, and all at once, he trips over his own feet and topples forward, knees and palms meeting the ground before he corrects himself. The tumble is small and hardly disrupts their pace, but Namjoon is close in an instant, filling his senses with tangerines and warm, calming musk.
"Are you alright?" Namjoon asks, voice low and soft, giving Yoongi goosebumps.
Yoongi hums in response, eager for Namjoon to not be quite so close, despite how much his body longs for him to touch him. They run in silence, snaking around to the left and to the right again, while Yoongi attempts to clear his head, and he is grateful for Namjoon's patience while he gathers his thoughts. Once they start reaching the end of the path, Yoongi takes in a fortifying breath.
"What I was going to ask is whether there is a good time for us to get started," Yoongi says, keeping his eyes ahead. "On the whole…er…process."
"The procreation," Namjoon adds, and Yoongi wonders if there is a playful tone to his voice, but he does not want to face the man and check his expression.
"Yes," he says, cracking a soft smile. "The procreation."
As they come around the final curve, the treeline ends, opening up to a well-trodden grassy area. Up ahead is a round cul-de-sac and sidewalk that leads to a residential neighborhood, and further down, there appears to be a playground of some sort.
"Whenever you feel most comfortable," Namjoon says, which, if Yoongi is being honest, is not the most helpful statement.
Yoongi hums and glances around, not very focused on anything in particular; more eager than anything to get a plan of some sort finalized.
"Well, I am already at your house and more or less ready to begin," Yoongi huffs, finally feeling the exertion of the run. "You are the one with the career, so really, it is up to you, depending on how hands-on you would like to be. And if you would rather wait for my heat to be over, we can."
The sound that comes from Namjoon is somewhere between a hum and a groan, and Yoongi is unsure how to parse it, but certain that he would rather pretend he never heard it. All the little hairs on his body stand at attention, and he does his best not to trip on his own feet again.
"It may be best if we wait until after," Namjoon finally responds. The soft tone of voice has returned, and it does wonders for Yoongi's already wild imagination. "Not to be dismissive or anything, but since omegas tend to get…shall we say…needy during their heats, I should probably keep my distance."
At this, Yoongi laughs – a burst at first that blooms into something melodic and impossible to contain. Namjoon lets out a surprised sound before he, too, chuckles, and Yoongi slows their run to a stop in order to catch his breath.
"What is it?" Namjoon asks, laughter in his voice.
For the first time since coming outside, Yoongi allows himself to glance at Namjoon. He realizes too late that he made a mistake when a sheen of sweat that glistens on Namjoon's neck is hit just right by the streetlights and diminishing sun rays, making his golden skin shine. Namjoon cracks a hint of a smile, watching Yoongi as if he is waiting for a response; Yoongi has no idea why they were laughing, anymore, brain muddled by the alpha's beauty.
"Uh—" Yoongi mutters, pulling his eyes from Namjoon to glance around and attempt to clear his head. "What were we talking about?"
Namjoon scoffs and reaches up, leaning into Yoongi's personal space and taking him by surprise. When Namjoon's warm hand comes into contact with Yoongi's forehead, it makes him freeze in place.
"Do you have a fever or something, omega?" Namjoon asks, moving his hand to Yoongi's cheek as if comparing the two temperatures.
Yoongi ducks dramatically to the side, swatting at the air, doing his best not to touch the alpha who evidently has no respect for personal space.
"Excuse you," he grumbles, watching as Namjoon cracks more of a smile, cheeks delicately dimpled. "I feel fine, for the most part. Just…I don't know…I'm tired."
A lie; Yoongi is not remotely tired. In fact, this run has him feeling more invigorated than he has in months.
"We were discussing the possibility of waiting until after your heat," Namjoon responds somewhat under his breath. He averts his gaze to the road, and Yoongi wonders if the topic of conversation actually makes him feel shy.
"Ah," Yoongi says, remembering Namjoon saying he would become needy and feeling warmth flood to his cheeks. There is a part of him that feels disappointed that Namjoon will want to keep all of his strong, calming alpha scents away when Yoongi desires them most, but he does his best to tamp those thoughts down and remind himself once again that Namjoon is not his.
But what if Namjoon were his, Yoongi's heat-addled mind suggests, unhelpfully. What if, just once, Namjoon could cradle him the way he needs while he fights through his heat? What if Namjoon enveloped him in a warm cocoon of spicy-citrus heaven?
Warmth rushes through Yoongi at a dizzying pace, making his chest feel tight, and he takes a deep intake of cool night air, closing his eyes and tilting his head to the sky. Suddenly, his limbs feel al dente and ready to collapse, and his heart pounds.
"You alright?" Namjoon asks, and Yoongi notices his own tangy scent of pomegranate permeating the air.
"Y-yeah," Yoongi responds, turning back toward the house. "Just got hit by a hot flash. I might head back to the house."
"Alright," Namjoon mutters, taking a step closer, emitting a soothing wave of musk. "Do you want me to come with you?"
Yes, Yoongi thinks. He would love for Namjoon to come with him. Only, he fixates on Namjoon towering over him, sweaty and eager to placate his hormonal urges, which is the opposite of what Namjoon can do for him.
"No, I'm good," Yoongi insists. "I'll see you back there."
Yoongi does not wait for Namjoon to respond before he begins jogging toward the trees. Although the cool night air is relaxing, Yoongi feels warm and worn out. He worries his knees might give way, but he presses ahead. The sound of Namjoon's feet jogging in the opposite direction can be heard, and once the lingering scent of tangerine fades, Yoongi lets out a deep breath, slowing down to intake air uninhabited by him.
Being in the presence of Namjoon almost feels like a pull – like there is an invisible string connecting them, causing Yoongi to get caught in Namjoon's gravity. Yoongi wonders again what life might be like if Namjoon were his to orbit. He knows the thought is silly, and it does nothing to tamp the wave of loneliness he feels as he picks up his pace and jogs back toward the large home alone.
He takes it slow, not entirely eager to return too soon before Namjoon. Although Wheein was nice to him last night, her behavior this morning and distance all day has Yoongi feeling unsure of what to think of her. It must be strange to have another person in the house, and Yoongi can only imagine how she must be feeling knowing that he and Namjoon will have to mate the traditional way. Still, he cannot help but wonder if she really meant it last night when she said they would become friends.
Yoongi enters the trees and takes a deep breath of fresh air, letting it settle in his lungs before it rattles out with each movement of his legs. Without Namjoon’s musk, Yoongi feels a bit brighter, oxygen coming to him a little easier. He follows the path and curves to the left, glancing through the trees to his left, toward the residential area for a glimpse of Namjoon, finding a distant figure that may be moving toward him.
He wonders if it is possible for Namjoon to have already run to the end of his route, and glances again, seeing him advance quickly from between the trees. Briefly, Yoongi imagines Namjoon as his alpha coming to give chase and capture him, and instantly, his pheromones spike, creating a cloying plume of chamomile with hints of pomegranate.
“Gods damn it,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, feeling embarrassed by the possibility of Namjoon catching up and running straight through the scent.
But then he imagines Namjoon sniffing the air with blown pupils that blaze with a fire just for Yoongi. Perhaps he has worked up even more of a sweat – dewy and dripping, tasting salty-sweet. The thought stirs arousal in Yoongi’s tummy, and although it is a small amount, he can both feel and smell the slick that he produces – a headier, muskier mixture of his scents.
With a groan, Yoongi follows the path around to the right and picks up the pace. No longer is he concerned with returning alone and having to face Wheein. Now he just wants to get back to the room and bury himself under the warm, soft blankets that smell just like the alpha he cannot stop thinking about, contract be damned.
Yoongi begins to huff and grunt as he jogs on. The small amount of slick he has produced feels uncomfortable, and the more he dwells on it, the more his pheromones seem to seep into the air, clinging all around him like a mist. He wonders if it would be excessive to take another shower.
As he follows the path around one more curve, Yoongi hears a branch snap to his left, in the direction from which Namjoon runs, and he turns his head to find Namjoon running straight through the trees, toward him. Fear and adrenaline spike in Yoongi, and he picks up the pace, running faster. If this is a game Namjoon is playing with him, Yoongi is unsure whether he finds it amusing.
Another branch snaps, this one much closer, and Yoongi turns his head to find Namjoon leaping out from the wooded area, onto the path behind him, watching him with wide eyes and a stance that almost looks like Namjoon is going to get onto all fours and give animalistic chase. Yoongi turns his gaze ahead and approaches the next curve in the road, taking it rather quickly and checking to see that he is not too far from the house.
But as soon as Yoongi is around the bend, Namjoon is ahead, exiting the wooded area and running straight for him. Yoongi falters in his steps and nearly trips over himself, then he veers off the path and begins to run through the last strip of woods in the direction of the Hanok. The sounds of leaves and twigs underfoot snap loudly, causing Yoongi's heart to pound impossibly harder, and he runs as if his life depends on it, hopping over fallen branches and zig-zagging around trees.
And then he trips. Yoongi's right ankle gets caught on a large branch, and he falls forward, bracing himself for impact with his hands outstretched. He feels foolish and confused, heart booming loudly in his ears, and more than anything he just wants to get away from this stupid fucking path and out of all of this nature.
Just as Yoongi's already sore palms hit uneven ground, two strong, warm arms wrap around him and yank him back. Before he can make sense of anything, Yoongi is firmly pressed against the thick trunk of a maple tree. Namjoon's arms cage Yoongi in, hands on either side of his face, and he leans in close, loudly sniffing the air around them.
"N-Namjoon?" Yoongi mutters as his entire body trembles.
From this proximity, the aura of musk and tangerine is strong and sweet – intoxicating. His eyelids flutter shut as more pungent slick is produced, feeling a primal calm wash over him despite being caught by a man who had just given chase.
"What are you doing?" he tries, tilting his head away from Namjoon, who continues to sniff him.
"Smells so good," Namjoon groans after a pause, voice deep and lust-laced.
Yoongi wants to shove Namjoon away and continue back to the hanok, but he finds he cannot move. The alpha's presence is strong and commanding, and Yoongi likes this attention from him; he likes the idea that his scent is alluring. And so he stands with his back pressed against the tree, panting through shattered breath as he attempts to even his heartbeat and ignore the flooding arousal that pools in his tummy.
Then, as if ripped from a trance, Namjoon stands straight up and blinks heavily, taking two steps back. He glances around at his surroundings and, with wide, apologetic eyes, he mutters, "S-sorry. I didn't mean to—that was an accident."
Yoongi clears his throat as disappointment builds and builds and crashes throughout him. He feels shipwrecked at sea – splintered wood left to drift aimlessly in open waters. Because of course, it was an accident; why would Namjoon desire him?
"It's fine," Yoongi responds as he peels himself away from the tree and slowly begins to walk back toward the path.
Namjoon leads the way, jogging without a glance back. Yoongi follows behind. Not another word is exchanged between them, and when Yoongi returns to the hanok, he kicks his shoes off and heads straight to the room.
Namjoon
I left the contract on the dining room table. Please read it over and let me know if there is anything we need to amend. If everything looks good, we can sign it and work out a timeline. We discussed waiting until your heat is over, if you recall. Just let me know when the time comes, and we can begin making arrangements.
Yoongi blinks sleep from his eyes as he reads over Namjoon's message. The feral part of him wants to ignore everything contract-related and ask him just what the fuck happened last night, while they were jogging. Had Namjoon caught a whiff of Yoongi's arousal and begun to take chase without thinking? That is the only conclusion Yoongi is able to draw, and he has given it a lot of thought.
But Yoongi decides not to interrogate the alpha. It is not as if he can fully control his urges; some instincts are too primal. Just because his arousal may be inviting does not mean Namjoon wants him.
Yoongi gets dressed for the day and exits the room, feeling a sheen of dewy sweat cover him. He is warm and irritated, and he wants to grab some fruit and a cup of tea and return to bed. To his delight, only Jeongguk is in the kitchen, and as Yoongi approaches, the man turns quickly to face him with wide, curious eyes.
"What?" Yoongi grumbles, uncomfortable with the way Jeongguk's gaze roves over him. "Is there something on my face?"
Jeongguk blinks several times, then shakes his head, and says, "The smell," almost more to himself than to Yoongi.
With a grunt of acknowledgment, Yoongi approaches the dining table and finds the aforementioned contract, picking it up and glancing over it.
"Could I trouble you for some fruit and tea?" he asks softly, watching as Jeongguk – who seems to be preparing tofu – nods, and hums.
"Anything else?" Jeongguk asks, not turning around to address Yoongi directly.
"Nah," Yoongi responds as he turns and makes his way back to the room. "Feel free to shout and I'll come get it."
Yoongi hears Jeongguk hum in response, and he returns to the room and closes the door tightly behind him. He shuffles over to the bed and has a seat, then begins to read over the contract. It looks like any other contract he has had to sign for work, with the amendments of a traditional mating ritual. Ordinarily, when he surrogates, the egg belongs to the other parent, and it dawns on Yoongi that this child will be his DNA, not Wheein's.
The thought of it makes his hands tremble, and he gnaws on the inside of his mouth. How will he feel, knowing years from now that the baby Namjoon and Wheein raise as their own is his? Will he be given rights to be in that child's life? Will he even want that?
Yoongi stares at the page until the words blur and jumble, turning into black smudges against white – incoherent and impossible to parse. He feels anxious and suddenly so terribly alone, and he begins to worry that maybe he cannot do this. Maybe he needs to back out. Maybe he should just go home.
The sound of knuckles rapping against the wooden door pulls Yoongi from the fog, and he sits alert and looks in the direction of the sound.
"Yes?" he calls, heart pounding at the thought that it could be Namjoon on the other side.
"Tea is ready," Jeongguk responds softly. "I didn't feel like shouting."
With a hum, Yoongi tosses the contract aside and gets off the bed. As he steps closer to the door, he begins to feel a bit shy about how much the room must reek of him. In the kitchen, Jeongguk seemed dazed by his mere presence; what might it smell like contained in such a small space, even with the window cracked open?
To his surprise, Jeongguk's expression seems rather schooled as he opens the door and greets him. He reaches for the tray of tea and fruit, but Jeongguk shakes his head and nods his chin as if to motion for Yoongi to get out of his way.
"Fine," Yoongi mutters, stepping aside and allowing him to enter. The aroma of the tea is strong and soothing.
Jeongguk makes his way to the bed and sets the tray down. His eyes seem to linger on the contract, and then he straightens himself out and turns back to Yoongi. With a concerned pinch to his brow, he opens his mouth, but then he seems to think better about what he might say, and he closes it, floundering.
"Is something the matter?" Yoongi drawls, unable to hide his impatience. He just wants to return to bed and enjoy his tea and fruit, and Jeongguk is standing in the way.
"No," Jeongguk responds after a moment, shrugging as he leaves the room.
"Weirdo," Yoongi mutters under his breath once the door is closed tight. He feels hormonal and irritated, and he is not in the mood for a cryptic beta sniffing around in his personal space.
Yoongi would throw himself onto the mattress in a disgruntled huff if it weren't for the tray of hot tea sitting atop. Instead, he slowly gets onto his knees and shuffles over, plopping onto his butt once he is close enough, causing the porcelain to rattle on its wooden surface.
The tea is perfect, lightly sweetened with honey and soothing on the throat. Yoongi allows himself to be grateful for Jeongguk despite how annoying he finds his presence today. He wonders if Jeongguk likes being employed by the couple because he enjoys doting on others. He even wonders if Jeongguk will dote on him throughout the pregnancy. Or if that is something Namjoon will do?
Namjoon. Yoongi grimaces at the thought of him. Last night, in the woods, pressed against the tree and caged in by Namjoon's arms, Yoongi felt truly alive. Something primal sparked inside him after being chased and captured by the alpha. Just thinking about it has slick threatening to stain his pants.
But then he remembers the look on Namjoon's face when he said it was an accident, and the arousal turns acidic, giving Yoongi a stomach ache. With a frown, he enjoys his fruit – sliced pear and watermelon – and considers once more the thought of backing out of this situation.
Does he really want to be tied to Namjoon for the rest of his life? Is it worth the paycheck? Yoongi is happy to let his body be used to carry a baby to term, but his baby? His flesh and blood, sharing physical features and primal, innate instincts with Kim Namjoon? Can he really go through with it?
This time, when knuckles rap gently at the door, Yoongi huffs out a sigh and shouts, "What?" He is not in the mood to be bothered; can't he wallow in his moodiness alone?
"Yoongi-ssi?" Namjoon calls from the other side of the door.
Namjoon is possibly the last person on this planet Yoongi wants stepping foot into this room, especially with his arousal cloying the air. Even if Namjoon does not desire him, the alpha in him will likely become aroused, and he would rather save all of that for when they actually have to mate.
A shudder runs down Yoongi's spine, and he calls back, "Don't come in here!"
"I just wanted to make sure you got the contract," Namjoon responds, and Yoongi nods to nobody but himself as he mutters, "I got it."
"Okay, good," Namjoon says, and that is it. Silence from the other side of the door, just as Yoongi likes it.
He reminds himself that Namjoon stood up for him all those years ago, and that he should stop second-guessing whether he wants to help him or not. He should help Namjoon; he likes to help others. So he picks up his phone and thumbs around for his conversation with the alpha.
Yoongi
Contract looks good. I have a few things I would like to discuss, but it can wait until after my heat ends.
Before Yoongi has a chance to set his phone down, it rings. Namjoon's name flashes on the screen, filling Yoongi with a wave of anxiety. Of course, it is fair that Namjoon would want to iron out any details, but now?
Yoongi answers the phone with a hum.
"We can talk about it now if you'd like to," Namjoon says, tone low and concerned. Hearing Namjoon's voice spoken so directly in his ear gives him goosebumps; he sounds good.
"Uh—" Yoongi clears his throat and runs a hand through his long, messy hair. "Alright. Well, I guess I was wondering about after the baby is born, since, you know…it's going to share my DNA too, if, uh…"
He trails off, unable to finish the sentence. Suddenly, he feels embarrassed to care this much, especially being unable to see and gauge Namjoon's reaction.
"Never mind," he mutters when the silence becomes overwhelming. "Forget it."
"Yoongi, listen," Namjoon says, voice stripped of any hint of concern; stern. "I know the process will likely be really stressful, and very personal to you, but I'm not sure it's a good idea for you to come around once we've finished. At least not until the baby is older. The media might turn it into a mess, and we need to think about our reputations."
"We what?" Yoongi responds sharply, unable to hold in the surge of anger that burns behind his ribcage. "What the fuck did you just say?"
Namjoon has the audacity to sigh, and Yoongi spirals.
"You know what?" Yoongi says through a sardonic chuckle, shaking his head, "Fuck you, and fuck this contract. I'm packing my shit and going home."
"Yoongi," Namjoon groans impatiently, "why don't we discuss this once your heat is over?"
"Once my heat is over?" Yoongi practically shouts, voice steeped in sarcasm. "Why, because I'm hormonal? Surely my judgment is being clouded because my omega instincts are making me overreact."
Namjoon hums and responds, "Pretty much."
"Oh, I fucking hate you," Yoongi says, getting up from the bed and pacing around, grabbing his discarded clothing from the floor and walking toward his suitcase to shove the items in unceremoniously. "And stop addressing me without honorifics! I am older than you!"
The tone of Namjoon's voice as he says, "I'm the alpha of this house," is almost playful, and Yoongi finds it infuriating.
"Can't even get your wife pregnant," Yoongi mutters under his breath. "Some fucking alpha you are."
As soon as the words leave his lips, Yoongi braces himself to be yelled at. He really has a lot of nerve saying shit like that to the man whose house he has been staying in. It takes Yoongi by surprise, however, when the door to the bedroom flies open, and Namjoon comes barreling in.
"Say that to my face, omega," Namjoon challenges, standing tall while Yoongi still holds his phone to his ear, crouched over his suitcase, and too dazed to move.
The bitter sting of cinnamon permeates the air, and Yoongi stumbles back, feeling dizzy.
"Not so tough are you now, little wolf?" Namjoon snarls, stepping forward and crowding Yoongi's space.
Yoongi wonders if Jeongguk or Wheein are around and can hear them. He wonders if they would intervene if things got physical between them.
He does not want to fight Namjoon, however. He wants to fuck.
Seeing him worked up with his jaw set and nostrils flaring, muscles strained behind his white button-up does something to Yoongi, and he is unable to stop himself from leaking a little at the sight of him. This must catch Namjoon's attention because he sniffs the air before his eyes widen, confusion laced with anger.
"If you want to leave, then get the fuck out," Namjoon says, blinking heavily and appearing less confident than just a moment ago. "Otherwise, watch what you say to me."
"Alright," Yoongi mutters, eyes traveling over Namjoon, past the hint of skin that peeks past his collar – two buttons left undone – to the shape of his waist and hips, no detail hidden behind the white fabric. "S-sorry."
"Are you?" Namjoon asks, making Yoongi's eyes snap back to his face.
"Yeah," he mutters, and he means it. All the fight has drained out of him, and the bedroom stinks of negativity and arousal.
"If you stay, we can discuss all of this in better detail," Namjoon says, taking a step backward. Sweat shimmers on his throat, and once more, Yoongi cannot stop himself from imagining what it must taste like.
"Later," Namjoon adds, eyes glancing around the room, dazed.
And then he walks out, closing the door behind him. Yoongi's phone remains clutched in his hand, and he glances down to notice that the call was never hung up. Seconds tick by uselessly on his screen until finally, the line goes dead.
"Fuck," Yoongi mutters, tossing his phone to the bed as he lets out a deep exhale. "Holy fuck. That was hot."
No longer is Yoongi considering packing and leaving; he is desperate for Namjoon to mate him.
Tonight, it is Wheein who brings Yoongi dinner. She looks tense as she holds the tray of kimchi soup, rice, and tea, and thankfully, she allows Yoongi to take it from her in the doorway. Yoongi hopes she will excuse herself immediately.
"What did you say to piss off Namjoon earlier?" she asks, voice full of mirth.
Yoongi stops mid-turn and looks over his shoulder to find her standing with her arms crossed over her chest. Heat rises to his face, and he spins away to continue carrying the tray over to the bed.
"Oh, nothing, really…" Yoongi mutters, unsure what he could possibly tell her about what happened. He is almost certain Namjoon did not confide in her, if the lack of conversation he has witnessed is anything to go by. "I misunderstood a line in the contract, and overreacted. My hormones have been super off balance."
Yoongi turns and feigns concern as he adds, "Why? Did he—did he say anything?"
Wheein squints and appears to study Yoongi, then she shrugs and responds, "No. Just heard him storm in here, that's all."
"Ah," Yoongi mutters, feeling uncomfortable. "Well, thank you for the food. I appreciate it."
"The thing is," Wheein continues, straightening her posture and taking a step into the room, "he seems to be coming down with a fever. I'm worried that something may have stressed him out so much that he has become sick."
Yoongi swallows a lump, feeling a prickle of sweat on his forehead. Just what the hell is Wheein trying to accuse him of?
"I don't think that's how stress or sickness works," Yoongi mutters, somewhat defensively.
With a devilish grin, Wheein says, "True. Maybe he got a whiff of your horny omega slick and now he's going into a rut."
Yoongi's heart pounds wildly in his chest, and he racks his brain…is that how ruts work? He is not entirely sure; alpha ruts are not exactly part of the in vitro birthing process.
"I'm…not—" Yoongi begins, wanting to argue that he has not been excreting slick willy-nilly for all the house to smell. Sure, he is sweating a lot, and producing a bouquet of scents, but his slick has been more or less kept under control.
But then he remembers the jog in the woods. Not only that, but Namjoon chased him through the trees and pinned him in order to get a better sniff of him. And he did leak a little earlier today when Namjoon stormed in and loomed over him like a threat. Could that have caused a rut?
Yoongi begins to panic, feeling his pulse rage. He knits his brow and shakes his head, attempting to think of something to say, but Wheein just giggles and walks out, closing the door and leaving a spattering of patchouli behind her.
Briefly, Yoongi wonders if she is drunk; she does seem to enjoy her white wine. Or is she being malicious? Does having another omega in the house make her feel insecure?
There is a part of Yoongi that wants to reach out to Namjoon and ask him what is wrong – to make sure that it is not, in fact, a rut that he is going through. But Namjoon has been so hot and cold toward Yoongi since his arrival, and more than anything, he wants to get the procreation done and over with so that he can carry their child to term and never see them again.
However, if he is going to be in this house for a year, give or take, then he needs an ally. So he climbs onto the bed, finds his phone, and makes an attempt at opening a dialogue.
Yoongi
I have a feeling Wheein hates me.
He sets his phone down and takes a spoonful of soup, raising it to his lips before stopping and giving it a whiff. Certainly, if she were going to poison him, she would do so with something undetectable, Yoongi thinks, but he takes precautions anyway. After all, she is not above having things added to his food that should not be in there.
Yoongi has a spoonful of the soup, then a bite of rice, and a spoonful of soup again. He closes his eyes, savoring the broth with a tiny smile, deciding it is probably not dosed with poison. Beside him, his cell phone buzzes.
Namjoon
To be fair, she hates everything.
This makes Yoongi snicker and roll his eyes.
Yoongi
How reassuring.
Namjoon
Why? Has she said something to you?
Yoongi feels a little surprised by Namjoon's concern. Of course, this could be a robotic response, seeing as Yoongi is a guest in his home. Or a response born out of boredom, if Namjoon really is sick. Still, Yoongi takes what he can get.
Yoongi
She asked me what I said to anger you. I lied a little, because I wasn't sure if you told her, and I was already embarrassed enough that I didn't want to run the risk of offending her, as well.
Namjoon
She's good at smelling lies. But it's probably best that you didn't tell her.
Yoongi
I figured.
Yoongi continues to eat, staring at his phone, which rests on his knee, waiting for Namjoon to respond. It only takes a few minutes for him to become antsy.
Yoongi
She mentioned you've been feeling sick.
Namjoon
A fever, I think. Nothing concerning.
Yoongi
Wheein said it might be a rut. She even teased me, saying it was probably my fault.
Namjoon
She said that?
Yoongi
I’m sure she was joking, but it did make me a bit uncomfortable.
Yoongi wants to ask directly. He wants to interrogate Namjoon about what happened in the woods last night and ask him what he thinks they should do. If Namjoon is reacting to his scent in a primal way, is it safe for them to be in the same house?
He stares at his phone, waiting for a response to come in, feeling disappointment well inside his guts with each moment that passes without one. He even considers calling Namjoon just to clear things up.
But instead, he decides he would rather eat his dinner. Already, the food and tea have begun to turn cold, so he slurps everything up, intent on finishing rather than savoring.
Since Namjoon is likely confined to one of the rooms, Yoongi decides to take his tray back to the kitchen. Perhaps he can engage in more friendly conversation with Wheein, or find out what Jeongguk is up to.
Yoongi slides off the bed and grabs the tray, balancing it on one palm spread across the underside as he walks to the door and opens it. He peeks out briefly, and upon finding only Jeongguk in the kitchen, he exits the room and pads over.
As he approaches, Jeongguk looks up, and with widened eyes, he trots over, reaching out for the tray before getting close enough to take it.
“I got it,” Yoongi grumbles, but Jeongguk takes it anyway, spinning on the balls of his feet to place it onto the counter.
“Yoongi-ssi,” Jeongguk says as he turns his attention back to Yoongi. “I was just going to come talk to you.”
“Oh?”
Jeongguk hums. “Being that you are in a heat cycle and Namjoon is feeling unwell, we would like to move you.”
"Like, what, to another room?" Yoongi scoffs; what difference would it make if he were across the same hallway, one door over.
"It's…more like a guesthouse," Jeongguk responds with a look of concern, possibly because he can see how Yoongi is responding to the request.
"A guesthouse," Yoongi mutters under his breath.
So, essentially, they would like to further isolate Yoongi and keep him away from Namjoon. And he is supposed to carry a child under those conditions…he wishes he could say he is surprised, but isolating the surrogate does seem to be the way couples handle the process, and a guesthouse had been mentioned before.
"Fine," Yoongi grumbles, feeling exhausted.
Perhaps it is for the best that he is away from this weirdo family and keeps to himself. The pay that will come at the end of this whole ordeal will be enough that he can take a vacation to clear his mind, and he decides to begin looking forward to that.
Yoongi leads the way back to the bedroom and pushes the door open, leaving it hanging rather than bothering to close it behind him. Let his stench fill the hallway, for all he cares; if Namjoon really is rutting, then he hopes the man feels miserable.
First, he picks up his phone – checking for messages and rolling his eyes when he finds none – and then he shoves his strewn clothing back into his suitcase and zips it shut. Jeongguk arrives and waits in the doorway, seemingly surprised to find Yoongi is already set to leave.
"You never bothered to unpack," Jeongguk mutters, a statement rather than a question.
Rather than respond, Yoongi shoves past and walks down the hallway, toward the bathroom, to retrieve his toothbrush. For a brief moment, he considers taking the amenities that have been provided, but he decides to wait and find out what the guesthouse has to offer. Yoongi pads back and finds that Jeongguk already has his suitcase handle extended and in his grasp, so he approaches and waits for the beta to lead the way.
"It's out back," Jeongguk mutters as he wheels the case toward the back door, and Yoongi trods ahead and slides his feet into the sneakers that were left the night before, not bothering to untie them or straighten out the backs that bend beneath his heels. He stands off to the side as Jeongguk slides into some sandals and opens the back door, leading the way to the left, where the wooden deck extends past the pool, along the side of the house.
Past the pool, between the hanok and the wooded area, is a small wooden bungalow – a tiny version of the hanok, with matching ornate black roof tiles. It runs the width of the pool, although how deep the structure is, Yoongi cannot tell. Jeongguk leads down the wooden path until he reaches the door, then he pulls out a key and unlocks it.
As soon as Yoongi steps close to the front door, he is hit with the scent of warm musk, tangerine, and cinnamon, stronger than it had been in the other bedroom. Petulance rises, and he cannot decide whether he is more annoyed at having to smell the alpha because he wants him close, or if he simply wants nothing to do with his presence at all.
This building is far more quaint, with a large room that has a bed set up in the far corner, raised from the floor and covered in furs – what one would expect from a wolf home centuries ago – with a dresser and mirror nearby. There is a low square table in the center of the room, around which sits four yellow-brown cushions. To the right is a window, and to the left is a door, through which Yoongi expects to find a bathroom.
There is no kitchen, nor hint of space in which to prepare meals, making Yoongi uncomfortable. Sure, he had been accepting Jeongguk's insistence of preparing and delivering his meals, but out here, away from the house, he practically feels like a prisoner. The space is bare bones, and appears hardly used – though immaculate; Yoongi does not see a speck of dust. He wonders if Jeongguk recently cleaned in here.
"What do I do about food?" Yoongi asks, already knowing what the answer will be.
"I already prepare all three meals for Namjoon and Wheein," Jeongguk responds simply. "And I was already bringing your meals, before we moved you here. It's no trouble for me to make the extra trip with a tray."
Yoongi sighs and digs the palms of his hands against his eyes, feeling tired, but more in an emotional way than a physical one.
"I guess I was hoping that on days I felt better, I could have a little more independence."
Jeongguk nods, then shrugs and says, "I understand it must be strange to live with a family who has hired help, but I assure you that nobody cooks or cleans in that kitchen but me."
"And if you're sick?" Yoongi challenges, raising an eyebrow.
"I rarely become sick," Jeongguk responds.
Yoongi simply hums. Must be nice, he thinks, to be a beta with no heat or rut cycle to care about. Still, the thought of having to rely on someone else for all of his meals feels…well, annoying. But he swallows down the rest of his remarks and accepts things as they are. Jeongguk is, after all, a great cook.
"Take down my number so it will be easier for you to let me know when you are hungry," Jeongguk suggests, and Yoongi fishes his phone from his pocket, unlocks the screen, and thumbs through to open an empty contact, then hands it over.
"And if I want snacks?"
Jeongguk takes the phone, glancing at Yoongi for just a brief moment to smirk, before looking down and muttering, "I have already purchased the items on your list, and if you would like, I can bring all the snacks here. If there is anything else you crave, just let me know and I will add it to the shopping list."
"Alright," Yoongi concedes with a sigh as Jeongguk hands his phone back. Yoongi snatches it and slides it back into his pocket, then continues to glance around the room.
"I will leave you to it," Jeongguk says, turning on his heels before adding, "and if you would like to go for a swim, please feel free. I bought a set of shorts in case you didn't pack any. It's in the dresser, which you are welcome to store your things in."
Yoongi nods and hums in response, then stands stiff with his arms hanging at his sides, unsure what to do with himself as Jeongguk leaves. A swim does sound nice, but he hesitates, letting his gaze drift around the room. He supposes it couldn't hurt to take a dip and get a little sunshine. There really is not much else to do, and although Yoongi has a laptop packed in his suitcase and can always find something to stream, he really is not in the mood to watch anything.
"Everything feels like a concession," he mutters under his breath as he kicks away his bent sneakers and pads over to the dresser. "For once, I just want to feel relaxed."
And if that is not reason enough to take a swim, he really does not know what is.
Although the furniture seems somewhat contemporary, the dresser has a vintage look, designed like older pieces of furniture with ornate iron fastenings, but rounded edges. Yoongi opens the top drawer and finds a folded pile of black cloth, which he lifts and discovers is the shorts Jeongguk had mentioned.
Although they are longer, they are also rather tight, and Yoongi snickers to himself, wondering if they provide more coverage than boxer briefs – which he has aplenty, and could have worn. He strips down, out of his light blue jeans and black briefs, and shimmies one leg at a time into the shorts, pulling them high and adjusting the crotch.
"Good enough," he mutters as he crosses the room and enters through the only other door, feeling around for a light switch before finding one and flipping it up. The bathroom is spacious, with a shower stall – containing the toiletries he lamented leaving behind in the old bathroom – and a large sink with an overhead mirror. Above the toilet is a shelf holding rows of towels, and he grabs one, switches off the light, and shuffles out.
Yoongi makes his way to the door and exits the bungalow, leaving it unlocked since Jeongguk did not provide him with a key, and he walks over to the pool. The end closest to his new home appears to be the deep end – which Yoongi thinks is quite suitable for the situation he has found himself in – and he decides he is not eager to jump in all at once, so he walks around to the far end, where a small set of steps sits nestled in the corner closest to the back porch of the hanok.
A light breeze gusts by, covering Yoongi in goosebumps, and he wonders if perhaps it is getting too cold to take a swim. Already, the day is beginning to wane, the sky turning a golden hue. Yoongi shuffles over to the steps and dips his toe into the water, snickering to himself because of course their pool is heated. Why wouldn't the mayor, who lives in a beautiful home with his beautiful wife out on this beautiful stretch of land, not have a heated fucking inground pool?
The water feels perfect, and Yoongi peels off the plain white tee he had been wearing and flings it and his towel over to a wicker chair with white padding that sits a few feet away. Briefly, Yoongi wonders if it is likely that anyone might join him, but considering Namjoon is unwell and the other two live in the kitchen, glued to their glasses of wine, he finds it unlikely.
Good, he thinks. All the better.
Yoongi starts slow, walking one step at a time while the water licks his ankles – cool on the very surface but warm just below. Then, with a deep breath out, and a deep breath in, he falls forward, skimming the surface as he lowers little by little until he is somewhat wading, somewhat walking, sinking down into a half-seated position hovering just above the floor.
Below the surface of the water, everything is calm and peaceful – a gentle roar of nothingness, heavy and weightless and so, perfectly alone. Above, the water sways, dips, and peaks, casting light and shadow in ever-changing patterns, glimmering and fading, ebbing and flowing. He wishes he could sit down here much longer than his body allows, and he lets out air gradually, expanding his diaphragm slowly, slowly, slowly, until his lungs begin to burn with the need for oxygen.
Yoongi lets the rest of his air out in a huff as he stands in shallow enough water that it rests at his hips, making his torso cool instantly in the evening air. A chill rocks through him, quaking in a shiver that feels so visceral – makes him feel so alive. And, with a smile, he spins and squats, walking with the water to his shoulders until, little by little, he can stand tall again with only his neck and head sticking out.
As the sun gradually works its way closer to the horizon, setting the sky ablaze in pink and gold, Yoongi swims and swims, spinning onto his back for a few laps before turning onto his front, dolphin-diving below and floating listlessly back to the top. He lays on his back and lets the water rock him to and fro, drifting with no direction – with no care in the world. He closes his eyes, he listens to birds and insects, and he simply exists.
The sound of the back door to the hanok closing stirs Yoongi, and he opens his eyes, body dipping into the water as his muscles respond to the feeling of surprise. Namjoon shuffles down the deck, along the path, and disappears into the trees, running much faster than he had the other night.
Strange, Yoongi thinks, that he is out for a run when he is unwell. Perhaps he is feeling better. Or, perhaps he is the foolish type who likes to push himself too far when all he needs is rest.
Or…perhaps he really is in a rut.
His fever – and whatever else he experiences during that time – could come and go the way Yoongi's does, building and fading gradually until it hits hard all at once, debilitating and overwhelming, or whatever alphas experience.
Yoongi continues to float, but the weightlessness feels stifled; his limbs are just a little too heavy. The euphoria has been tamped down, and he begins to slowly spin and walk around somewhat mindlessly, unsure what to do with himself. The thought of Namjoon returning and regarding him feels daunting…but, somehow, the thought of Namjoon returning and pretending he does not exist feels worse.
With small, bouncy steps, Yoongi returns to the steps in the corner of the pool, standing tall as the water pours down his torso and turns cold. Goosebumps cover his skin, and he breathes deep, relaxing breaths as he exits and pads over to the chair for the fluffy white towel that lays in a pile, tangled with his shirt.
Yoongi picks up the towel and starts with his shoulders, rubbing away water while standing with his head leaned just forward enough that the water drips onto the tan gunite floor. He rubs the towel over his arms and down his legs, not worrying too much since his shorts are sopping wet; he really just wants to get his shirt back on so he can dry his hair a little and then wrap the towel around his hips.
As he flings the towel aside and reaches for his tee, the sounds of feet tromping through the woods can be heard behind him. He holds the garment in his hand and rotates, curiously searching for the source of the sound. And when Namjoon breaks through the trees – off path – Yoongi sucks in a breath and holds it for safekeeping.
Namjoon shines in the faint rays of the quickly setting sun, hair stuck to his forehead in stalactites of sweat. His black athletic tank and shorts cling to his skin, outlining firm muscle and soft curves; he looks like a modern depiction of a god, chiseled in stone, preserved in all his glory, too good to be true.
As the musky-sweet stench of chamomile wafts from Yoongi, he turns his head away quickly and begins to shove his arms into his shirt, punching material before finding the wrong holes and then the right ones. He swallows a lump and stares ahead at the wooden deck of the hanok, waiting anxiously for Namjoon to pass and go back inside. But instead, the footsteps advance, slowing in step and at war with the accelerated pace at which Yoongi's heart pounds.
"Hey," Namjoon mutters, making Yoongi gasp, and he turns, feeling his face warm as Namjoon approaches. "Are you done already?"
Yoongi's entire nervous system screeches to a halt as he does his best not to notice the dips and curves of pectorals and abdominals, and so, so many muscles his foggy brain fails to cling to the names of. Somewhat frantically, his tongue pushes and pulls inside his mouth, forming consonants and vowels that never find sound, until finally, he mutters, "Huh?"
To his surprise, Namjoon chuckles – a soft thing with barely any sound following an abrupt gust of air, accompanied by gentle dimples creasing his cheeks. It is absolutely devastating, and Yoongi heavy-blinks and pleads silently with himself to get his shit together and think clearly.
"Are you done swimming?" Namjoon clarifies. "I was going to jump in."
All at once, Yoongi spirals. On the one hand, it would be an actual dream come true to swim with Namjoon – to be weightless and wet, and engulfed in his scent. But on the other hand – the practical hand that reminds him that Namjoon is unattainable and not his – determines that all of that is an absolute fucking nightmare.
What if the sight of Namjoon's bare chest causes Yoongi to produce slick, filling the atmosphere with his arousal? No, he thinks. Swimming with Namjoon is off the table.
And even as he deliberates, searching the darkening sky for answers, warm musk laced with sweet, tangy tangerine tickles at his senses and sends him reeling. He needs to get away, fast.
"Y-yeah," Yoongi mutters. "I feel kinda tired. I might shower and turn in."
Namjoon's brows knit ever so slightly, and Yoongi does not let himself dwell on it – pushes out the thought that Namjoon might be disappointed, of all things. As he takes a step back and lifts his hand to give a weak wave, he mutters, "Nice pool, though. Thanks for letting me swim."
A weird thing to say, Yoongi considers, since Namjoon did not really let him do anything; he is a guest in this house and was given swim shorts. But the words are already out there and it feels weird to take them back.
"Use it all you'd like," Namjoon responds politely, reaching for the bottom hem of his shirt and lifting.
And with that, Yoongi turns quickly, nearly tripping over his own feet to scamper away, back to the bungalow. He imagines he can feel Namjoon's gaze on him as he retreats, swallowing a lump of determination and disappointment as he reaches for the knob. He will not turn back and see for himself; he cannot do that.
Yoongi steps inside quickly and leans his back against the closing door, allowing his body and gravity to do the work as he sinks into the cold surface and closes his eyes. He needs to stop swooning over Namjoon; these feelings – whether a product of his heat, or genuine, or some dreadful place in between – are no good. They can only cause him hurt, in the long run. He needs to steel his heart and stop pining over the alpha who can never be his.
Days pass in the bungalow with Jeongguk bringing him breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and keeping him stocked with snacks. The food changes, sometimes braised pork belly, sometimes pizza. Each meal comes with tea and water, and a packet of bupropion in case Yoongi feels any swelling or pain. He lets the medicine pile up on the small wooden table.
Yoongi's heat is beginning to hit hard, keeping him bedridden during the day. He peels himself out of the sheets when the sun begins to set to swim by himself, desperate to calm his nerves. Then he showers and returns to the bed. When Jeongguk stops by with meals, he switches out the sheets and towels, keeping Yoongi stocked with anything he may need.
But what he really needs, deep down, is the scent and comfort of an alpha. He needs to nestle and cuddle; needs to smell and lick and feel. Already traces of Namjoon are dwindling, and he finds himself desperately rubbing his face against the thick fur blanket, in search of more.
In the past, Yoongi has been able to tamp down these urges, never having had a tangible person on his mind while his hormones rage. But this time, he aches and yearns for the man whose scent is faint on the fur – only present enough to provide an illusion of comfort, driving him mad when his thighs clench together, and he leaks with wanton need.
Yoongi has no idea how late it is when a light knocking on the door that is very clearly not Jeongguk stirs him from a restless sleep. Outside, the sky is dark, and he cannot fathom who may need him at this hour.
"Hang on," Yoongi groans as he sits up and begins to push at the sheet, tangled in fabric and sweat, drowsy and disoriented. "Just a moment."
Yoongi stumbles when he gets to his feet, breathing shallowly and attempting to press forward despite how badly his body wants to sink down, down, down to the floorboards, and seep into the earth. He reaches for the knob and turns, finding his hand is too sweaty and rubbing his palm against his briefs in order to try again.
It occurs to Yoongi in a brief, passing thought that he is completely undressed, answering the door in his underwear, but he has neither the heart nor mind to care. When he finally gets a grip on the knob to twist and pull, he lets his eyes rake up the body of his guest, to his face, taking several moments to process the sight before him.
"Yoongi?" Namjoon asks softly, covered head to toe in soft black cotton – a hoodie pulled over his head, and matching joggers.
Yoongi hums in response, not entirely certain that Namjoon really is standing before him; could he be lucid dreaming? Does it always feel so real?
"Can I—I wanted to talk to you. Is now a bad time?"
"I'm…not fully awake," Yoongi mutters. Then he chuckles, shoulders and stomach bouncing as he asks, "Am I awake? Are you a dream? This is a weird dream. Ugh, this heat is making me crazy."
"I'm—" Namjoon begins, hesitates, and shifts on his feet, eyes searching past Yoongi's head.
Yoongi thinks his pupils are blown wide, that his nostrils are flared, but of course they would be; dream Namjoon would desire him.
"Maybe I should come back another time."
With a shrug, Yoongi backs into the room, deciding that he may as well let Namjoon in; he has no idea when, in the foreseeable future, he might feel better. He pads over to a cushion and allows his body to bend and crash down into it, catching himself with his palms against the floor before he can topple completely. Namjoon enters the space and softly closes the door behind him, then he takes a much more graceful seat on the cushion to Yoongi's right.
"I was thinking…" Namjoon says, trailing off as he glances around the room, seemingly unable to hold his gaze on Yoongi. "I don't know if you know this, but I began my rut."
Yoongi laughs softly to himself, though what he finds funny, he is not certain. "Sucks to be you," he mutters with a sigh, feeling sorry for anyone who may be feeling as awful as he feels in this moment.
"I wasn't expecting it to happen, but I think it came about from…in the woods…when we were running. Your smell, and…my instincts…I—I don't know. I'm sorry, this must be awkward."
Gradually, as if ice water were trickling down from above, onto his head and pulling him from the fog of his heat, Yoongi begins to become acutely aware of the fact that this conversation is real – that he is definitely not dreaming. He watches Namjoon with wide, eager eyes, feeling a dizzying euphoria blanket him as their musks and scents mingle in the air.
"Ok," is all he can bring himself to say in response.
Namjoon chuckles, light and soft, just like the day at the pool, sending Yoongi's heart haywire. And Namjoon has to know; the way his scent hangs in the air, clinging to every corner and surface, it is unmistakable how Yoongi feels.
"I wonder if perhaps this would be a good time to…you know…" Namjoon says, cheeks darkening with blush.
"Procreate," Yoongi blurts with a heavy scoff.
Namjoon's cheeks dimple just enough to devastate as he says, "Yeah. Procreate."
"I am the most fertile," Yoongi mutters, letting his gaze drift to Namjoon's sweater, to a spot that blurs as he lets his vision drift, then sharpens as he blinks.
"And I'm the most virile," Namjoon adds.
"This is probably an opportune time," Yoongi mutters.
Silence hangs, but, for once, it is not uncomfortable. Namjoon seems to be intentionally delivering a calming scent, and Yoongi takes a deep, fortifying breath.
"Tonight is likely too soon," Namjoon responds, voice small.
Yoongi gasps, eyes flying to search Namjoon's face for any hint that he is joking, finding him looking shy.
"Yeah, maybe." Yoongi says, weighing the possibilities. "It would…gods, it would be a huge relief for me, but…maybe it's too soon."
"I'm sorry you're in here alone, dealing with this," Namjoon says, bashful. "I was too worried about, well…having you across the hall. The smell…"
"I get it," Yoongi responds. And he really does; being away from Namjoon has been for the best, he thinks. Especially with his treacherous heart desiring more than just the alpha comfort he could provide. Yoongi finds himself curious to know Namjoon too, as a person. Horrifying; it must be stopped.
"Tomorrow?" Yoongi suggests, half-joking, and Namjoon regards him with wide eyes, visibly swallows, and then nods in quick, shallow movements.
"Alright," Namjoon says, wetting his lips and standing quickly. "See you tomorrow, Yoongi."
And then, without another word or glance back, Namjoon makes for the door and exits, leaving Yoongi to spiral and spiral.
Jeongguk arrives bright and early with a bowl of fruit, water, and tea. He mutters something about Yoongi refraining from showering, no matter how sweaty he may be, and he hands over a packet of vitamins, waiting to watch Yoongi take them.
He also brings incense sticks and candles that he lights, ornate figures and shimmering crystals that he sets here and there, wreaths of dried plants that he tacks around, and soft, satin black sheets. It smells faintly like a smoky forest, but also a valley of flowers.
"Namjoon will return within the hour," Jeongguk says once he is done, holding the old bedding in his arms. "It will just be the two of you; the ritual is modern enough that there is no need for an audience. Is there anything else you need?"
Within the hour, in broad daylight. Yoongi swallows thickly. "N-no, thank you Jeongguk."
"Best of luck," Jeongguk says with a nod, "I pray for your fertility, and to your healthy body, mind, and spirit."
"Oh—okay, thanks," Yoongi mutters, stunned and unsure what to say.
With a bow of his head, Jeongguk departs, leaving Yoongi to stare at his fruit bowl.
Namjoon's knocking is recognizable now; two short taps and three quick ones. Yoongi is sitting at the table finishing his fruit and tea, and he calls, "Come in," with a quaking voice.
Seconds pass before the door opens, and Yoongi wonders if Namjoon is just as nervous as he is. He walks in wearing a black satin robe, and he kicks off sandals as he closes the door, then approaches with soft steps. He kneels beside Yoongi, and glances around the room for a brief moment before finally speaking.
"Are you ready, little omega?"
The nickname makes Yoongi's head spin, and he heavy-blinks and nods, letting his gaze drift and return.
"As ready as I'll ever be."
With a lift of one eyebrow, Namjoon says, "You don't smell ready," and Yoongi absolutely spirals. He attempts to find the words to say, failing around each syllable before Namjoon continues, saying, "I can change that, don't worry," in a voice that is deep and inviting and far too enticing for his own good.
Yoongi pushes away from the small table and stands, wearing only black briefs and a black tee. The material clings to his skin with sweat, but he has followed directions and has not showered. He makes his way to the bed and sits on the edge, and Namjoon turns, gets onto his hands and knees, and crawls.
No, not crawls – Namjoon stalks. His gaze is pointed, lips pulled into a sneer, and he slowly makes his way to Yoongi as the bone and muscle in his shoulders rise and sink hypnotically.
The dark material of the satin robe falls open, showing hints of chest, and Yoongi allows himself to look. When Namjoon gets close, he nuzzles his cheek against Yoongi's knee, and sparks fly inside him, building the aching need, causing every muscle between his legs to twitch and flutter as he produces slick.
"That's more like it," Namjoon groans, making a show of sniffing the air.
"Gods, you're infuriating," Yoongi mutters as his eyelids flicker.
"Lay down," Namjoon instructs as he sits up and begins to disrobe.
Yoongi nods and backs up, digging his heels as he pushes the blankets away and finds the center of the bed, soft and cool and covered with satin. Namjoon stands, drops the robe to the floor, and Yoongi gasps as he takes in the sight of the alpha nude with his cock hanging heavy and half-hard between his legs.
"Like what you see?" Namjoon teases, and Yoongi laughs, forcing his gaze to reach the ceiling.
"You wish," he responds, breathy and unconvincing.
The mattress dips, and Yoongi's heart becomes frantic. He has to keep reminding himself that this is really happening – that Kim Namjoon is going to breed him. When he allows himself to look at Namjoon, he finds the man towering beside him on his knees, laughing.
"What?" Yoongi asks, petulant.
"So stiff," Namjoon teases, and Yoongi realizes that he is lying in a straight line with his arms flat to his sides, and yeah, sure, he probably looks really funny. "Loosen up, omega."
"How do you expect me to do that?" Yoongi asks somewhat indignantly, tilting his head up, off the pillow, as if that will give him a better view of the man.
Without another word, Namjoon reaches down, takes Yoongi's plain black tee in both hands, and – with a growl that roars from deep in his chest – he rips it wide open, causing Yoongi to gasp and scramble as the alpha holds what is left of the material, trapping him somewhat suspended with his heels digging desperately against the mattress.
Slick trickles from him, mingling in the air with tangerine and musk – dizzying. Arousal floods and floods to the tips of his fingers and toes, his cock twitches half-hard, and his breaths heave from his lungs. He smolders under Namjoon's heated gaze, and his body begins to sink, pliant and eager. So, so eager.
Namjoon releases Yoongi's tattered shirt and leans close, caging him in with his arms and sniffing just above his shoulder, making Yoongi instinctively tilt his head to give him more access.
"Finally," Namjoon groans, voice hazy and somewhat distant, covering Yoongi in goosebumps. "I finally get to have you."
ahhhh, are we having fun, yet??? gosh, i love them so much. fun fact: this fic was written for a fest that had a 20k word cap for one shots and 40k word cap for two shots, and i ended up running out of fucking space. i went into a trance and wrote this fic like my life depended on it. and i have zero regrets.
thank you so much for reading!!! reblogs and comments are the lifeblood of this hellsite and likes are appreciated too!!! i love you!!!
tags: @codeinebelle @dasexydevitt13 @giriiboyy @mgthecat @moonleeai @m1sss1mp @spookyminyunki @yoongoboongo0🌙 comment or dm to be added to the tag list!
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