Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

True mates: two individuals of differing or same sub-species (omega, beta, or alpha) who are both born with matching ink on their left wrists. A matching mark symbolizes a fated pair and will disappear when both mates are mated - to each other, or to someone else.

A fated mate does not have to bond with its counter-fated in order for the mark to disappear. Mating someone outside of your fated, when mutual, will cause the mark to disappear - both individuals must mate for the ink to fade.

This is the only way to recognize your intended.

It’s cold Jungkook notes as he steps out onto the metal balcony, locking his door behind him. The lock rattles, barely clicking closed, enough that one firm kick or shoulder slam would make the door pop open. Not that anything inside was high in value, but there were a few things he would miss.

Lower-class living.

The balcony outside his apartment is a long corridor, open to the weather and made of old, rusting metal. It leads to a thin metal staircase, leading down to an old, grey car park that is hidden behind a large grocery store.

Jungkook has never really met any of his neighbors - turning a blind eye to any suspicious activity, and pretending he doesn’t see the multiple people coming and going from his neighbour two doors down.

He’s well aware he doesn’t live in the nicest area - tucked away, rusting and rotting, kept hidden from public view, people who can actually afford to buy more than five things in a grocery shop, but.. Jungkook wouldn’t say he was mad about it.

He’s content with life, with the small things, and doesn’t need any rich CEO sugar-daddy to come to swoop him up and save him.

He’s content here, in his ragged apartment, with the tattoo glaring on his wrist - patiently waiting for the day he meets them. Waiting like ever good omega, for the day that will bring their fated mate, whether beta, omega, or alpha.

He longs for that day.

But it’ll come, soon enough.

Jungkook sighs, admiring how his breath hangs in the air in a white cloud and presses his hands deeper into the pockets of his navy green coat. It’s thick, padded with old fleece that Jungkook had sewn in himself. A red beanie, hand-knitted, adorns his head, pressing his curling brown locks.

The metal creaks underfoot as Jungkook slowly hops down the metal stairs, snow crunching underfoot as he finally reaches the car park. Upon inspecting the sky, the grey clouds swirl, stuttering out a few snowflakes every now and again.

Not heavy enough to be worrying, but enough to be cold.

Jungkook grits his teeth, shivering as he walks across the car park, worn boots threatening to slip on the forming ice. There’s no time to delay, no time to worry about snow - instead, he’s worrying about the ten-dollar note in his pocket and trying to fight his growing excitement.

The lantern festival. The once-a-year festival, with the best lamb skewers , that Jungkook has ever eaten.

I’m coming for you. 

----

Jungkook has never been so happy in his goddamn life.

Four, succulent, dripping lamb skewers are held tightly in his hand, the cash from his pocket gone and spent. But they’re here, after an entire year of wait, held in a little plastic tray in his hand. Jungkook is sure he must be drooling (he uses a delicate hand to dab and check, but he’s still sure it’s going to happen).

They look so, so good, the aroma spiraling into his ever sense, his hands and teeth itching to be able to dig into this delight, settle the cravings that haunt him for every other moment of the year-

The lanterns are nice as well. The festival is well-lit with fairy lights and lanterns, with colourful stalls coating every available surface of the street. Fabrics, foods, lanterns, toys, anything you could want can be found underneath a fabric red tarp. The streets are alive with laughter, couples and children milling together. It’s not incredibly crowded, not that it’s uncomfortable, but it’s nice.

Jungkook just can not take his eyes off the damn skewers in his hands. If his eyeballs could salivate, they would be.

Now, he just has to find a nice street corner - one that is not covered in a thin layer of snow - or if he’s extra lucky, which is never but, hoping, a spare bench - one that isn’t smothered by couples rubbing noses and holding hands, permeating the air with the smell of lovey-doveyness.

Oh skewers, skewers, skewers, Jungkook should probably look where he’s going, but the heart-eyes he’s making at his one true love in his hands is kinda obscuring his vision and oh, oh-

He hits the floor with a thump, bottom colliding harshly with icy stone, and Jungkook yelps, face screwing up as sharp pain shoots up from his tailbone. His beanie is slipping backward off of his head, so he instantly raises a hand to grab onto it, but wait, that was the hand holding the lamb skewers, and they aren’t on his head now, now are they still in his hand, so-

Oh no.

His precious, once-a-year lamb skewers are lying just a few feet in front of him, plastic packaging strewn to the side as they lay sadly on the ground. Maybe they’re saveable! Five-second rule?! No, wait, they’re in a puddle of melting snow, nope, oh, oh, no…

Jungkook’s chest feels unbelievably tight, and every time he blinks, his vision seems to blur a little more. He realizes that the blur is due to tears, glossing up his eyes, but he wipes them away roughly, shame coiling at his core at crying over fucking skewers.

But they were his skewers, and his budget doesn’t have any more wriggle room…

“You should watch where you’re going, kid,” Comes a voice, but it’s not really angry, more kind and a little concerned. It doesn’t really help the tears brimming in the corners of Jungkook’s eyes, but he shakes it off, bitting back his sniffles as he tries to clamber back to his feet.

There’s a hand appearing in his vision, and Jungkook reaches out to take it cautiously, grateful for the help. The stranger’s sleeve slips up a little, a thick, blue sleeve, and it’s there, right there, black ink that is so, so familiar, curving around his wrist.

A little leaf, sitting in a rippling puddle.

Jungkook’s fated mate tattoo.

This man is-

The man makes a noise of concern, and begins to speak - “I didn’t think that you had hit your head, but did you? Are you okay? Are you-”

Jungkook, stunned with all the breath knocked out of his chest, can only pull up the sleeve of his own jacket, and hold his wrist out uselessly.

“ Oh. Oh no.”

Well, that’s not what he likes to hear. 

The air has suddenly gotten that bit colder, the lanterns and fairy lights dulling, their twinkle fading to grey. Jungkook’s fingers are numb, heart sinking lower and lower in his chest as he looks up at his supposed fated mate. He’s going to throw up. 

He knows. 

He knows. 

This man will never be his. 

The man pushes his hair back off of his forehead, face twisting into a grimace. Jungkook pulls himself to his feet, biting back the fear, the panic that is already clouding at the corners of his mind. 

No. this can’t be happening. 

Jungkook has been so, so damn patient, waiting without complaint, no, no, he’ll wait longer, he will! Just give him someone he can have, someone that completes him, not somebody like this, somebody who already smells mated, has the scent of others intimately smeared on him, no, no, no-

Jungkook doesn’t care about his skewers anymore, he just wants to go home, to flee and pretend like this never happened, but-

“Shall we sit… and talk?” The man asks cautiously, tucking himself a little deeper into his coat. There’s a thick beanie on his head, a scarf wrapped around his throat. 

“I was about to get some skewers as well so… you can get yourself some more and we can..” he trails off. 

Jungkook blinks back the hot tears that are prickling at his eyes. 

“I can’t afford any more,” He croaks out, hoping his voice is shaking as much as he thinks it is, “It’s fine, I-” 

“I’ll buy you some. Come on.” 

Hope and kindness are traitorous things.

----

Dull, grey, dry. 

Jungkook can’t even imagine eating the skewers now. Why did he think they looked good? Smelled good? All his appetite is gone, stomach churning dangerously as he stares down at the little plastic tray on his lap. They’re hot - warmth bleeding into his pants, but… there’s nothing. No urge, no excitement. 

The man sitting next to him hasn’t touched his either, but he’s not looking at them. No, Jungkook can feel his gaze boring into the side of his head. Boiling hot, almost melting into his skull and-

“I’m mated. And have no intention of changing that.” 

There we go. 

Jungkook wants to come up with some sort of response, something like “I figured,” or “Good for me I guess,” but it just feels like his heart is squeezing in his chest, so hard that it might burst, and that heat building behind his eyes is almost unbearable. 

He should have known. 

He should have predicted this. 

The man sighs, and takes a slow bite from one of his skewers before speaking again in a soft, low tone - “I’m Min Yoongi.”

“Jeon Jungkook.” Jungkook says, his voice sounding empty, throat tight. 

“I’m sorry, I know you’ve probably been waiting for this for-” 

There’s a shrill, sharp sound of a phone ringtone cutting through the air. And the man, Yoongi, freezes. He quickly reaches into his pocket and fumbles around, pulling out an expensive model of phone and holding it up to his ear. 

Jungkook just stares at his lap, skewers now a messy blur of colour as his eyes gloss over. No, no, he isn’t going to cry here, not now, he’ll do that later, and-

Yoongi is talking on the phone - quiet and calm - but Jungkook doesn’t bother to try and pay attention, instead, trying to swallow down the versatile lump on emotion that is bubbling frantically in his throat. 

“- you sure? They might not-” 

Jungkook doesn’t realize that the phone call has ended until Yoongi is clearing his throat lightly, the familiar feeling of his gaze boring into Jungkook returning. The omega blinks wildly, clearing his own throat as he straightens a little, pretending that he’s fine, that he’s not about to topple over and sob himself unconscious but-

“-dinner?” 

“What?” Jungkook asks, a little blunt, eyes burning. 

“Would you like to come over for dinner?” Yoongi asks and Jungkook finally raises his eyes from his lap to lock onto the man’s gaze. Yoongi’s eyes are soft, concerned, maybe a little guilty, chewing on his bottom lip with a tight jaw. 

“Why?” 

“Well, honestly, I feel horrible that you’ve ended up here, probably growing up dreaming of meeting your fated and living happily ever after,” Yoongi says gently, voice ringing with pure honesty and sympathy, “So I’d love you to come over, eat some dinner. Selfishly to make myself feel better. You can say no, but one of my mates suggested it. As a nice.. Goodbye. An apology.”

Mate s. 

Wow. 

Wow. 

This man has multiple mates and Jungkook has no one.  

Ouch. 

And Jungkook doesn’t want to go, he doesn’t want to go to this damned man’s house, to see his happy life and to meet the people who effectively, yet unconsciously, stole his true mate from him. No, no, he’s not going to do this, he isn’t. 

“Ok,” he says, voice barely a whisper. 

Yoongi gives him an unsure smile, rising to his feet with his skewers gripped tightly in hand. Jungkook’s eyes drop to his lap again. 

“Let’s go. My car is just a few streets away.” 

And when Jungkook rises to his feet, hands trembling and his skewers completely cold, he feels like his heart drops to his feet - slithering out onto the pavement to slowly melt with the falling snow. 

This is a bad idea, such a bad idea, and yet he’s following him, why-

I just want to see what could’ve been.

Chapter Text

Yoongi’s car is nice, an older model with the clear screaming of money engraved into it. Tinted windows and a beautiful red coat of paint. It makes Jungkook grimace just seeing it, instantly rethinking his entire decision. This car in itself, heck, even just one of the car’s doors is probably worth more than all of the food Jungkook has ever eaten. In his entire life. Lamb skewers included!

The car is parked on a dark sidestreet, hidden away from the festival lights and snowflakes, tires looking stunning against the dark tarmac. Jungkook can’t help but gape for a moment. Brush his fingers along that fiery coat of paint, nerves building in his chest. If this car is an indication of anything…. It’s a screaming sign of “this is a bad idea”. 

He should politely refuse, turn and head home. Try and wipe the memory of Yoongi from his mind. He’s going to be sick, oh god-

But Yoongi doesn’t give him time to back out, ushering him into the car gently. The inside is a gorgeous brown leather, pristine and tidy. Jungkook sits awkwardly, a little hunched, legs squeezed together, trying to prevent as much of himself from touching the seat as possible. He feels dirty. Yet Yoongi doesn’t seem to notice, reminding him of his seatbelt in a soft voice, a stern gaze watching until it’s clicked in. 

And then they’re off with a nice rumble, the throbbing of the car’s engine underneath his feet. Jungkook stares out the window solemnly, watching as the lights of the lantern festival fade, as his lamb skewers continue to melt into the snow. 

Why is he here again? Anxiety curling in his throat, the anxious tapping of one of his feet. This was a bad idea. He’s an intruder, ruining Yoongi’s mated life. He shouldn’t be in this car. 

He wishes, really truly wishes, that he had been looking where he was going and had never met Min Yoongi. Jungkook would have been able to enjoy his lamb skewers in peace, and then carry on his life without knowing any better. Damn. 

In front of his eyes, the scenery changes from a blend of buildings, a rush of colour, and bustling streets to lush greenery. Dusk is settling over the fences of the fields, Jungkook staring with quiet awe at the lush landscape. It’s so different from the city life, from the cramped, living-off-of-loose-change lifestyle. In this day and age, only people of rich, people of old money or status have the luxury to live out in the country. And it’s utterly gorgeous out here. Rows of apple trees, horses grazing in large, open paddocks, heavy gates leading off down expensive-looking driveways.

The fields blend into trees, Yoongi slowly turning down a thick, forested trail. Jungkook stays silent, swaying as the gravel squeaks underneath the car’s tires, fingers tightly curled in his lap. His anxiety is building, swirling like a deafening ocean wave, roaring in his ears. The trees on either side are thick, stretching up toward the sky, lush dark green and-

Everything opens. 

The dark trees split, lengthening out as the road grows wider and wider. Jungkook’s jaw is in his footwell now, fingers digging so tightly into his own palms that he’s sure there’s blood. The slim road has opened up into a gorgeous clearing, a spurting, grey stone fountain perched in the middle of a roundabout. Yoongi drives slowly, rolling to a halt once they’re around the fountain. 

Jungkook hesitates, fingers grazing over the door's handle. Yoongi is already out of the car, without even an inch of hesitation, and after swallowing thickly, the omega follows suit. Climbing out of the car quietly, closing the door behind him. His shoes crunch on the snow underfoot, instantly shivering as a cold blast of wind invades underneath his shirt. 

Arms tight around his torso, Jungkook sneaks a look around him. There’s a strange sense of tension in the air, trouble brewing. It’s quiet, much too quiet. The landscape is well kept, with dark green hedges and flowers, twisting, detailed grey statues that look a little too eerily alive perched everywhere. A layer of snow covers everything, but not enough to mask the grey stone stairs in front of him. Or, the distant shadow of marbled pillars, tall hedges, and fountains. 

Wow. 

Most notably, is the house looming over him. Huge, utterly gorgeous, grey with stunning windows, twirling architecture. Small towers that dance upward toward the brewing clouds, the billowing of balconies and sculpted in statues. It looks like a palace. But it is grey, grey in a way that makes it look classy - but it’s so intimidating. Jungkook can feel every shred, the tiny amount of courage he had left in his already trembling self, drip away instantly. 

Get back in the car and leave. Now. 

Yoongi is already climbing the stairs, hands tucked into his pockets nonchalantly. Jungkook lets out a little gasp, air hanging in the cold air, and hurries after him. That constant sting of bile still hasn’t left, climbing higher and higher in his throat. 

But he’s distracted by the quiet thrum of a car engine behind him, turning back. His eyes widen.

Jungkook almost gasps, muffling the sound as he stares over his shoulder, in utter shock, watching how the car slowly rolls itself into an unseen door, disappearing into a meld of rock. A secret garage? Self-driving cars? How rich are these people?! 

If Jungkook didn’t feel guilty, didn’t feel out of place before, he certainly does now. More than ever. A peasant low-life like himself doesn’t deserve to be walking up these few stairs, doesn’t deserve to set his sight on the grand doors ahead of him. 

The urge to run, to flee is almost suffocating now. He doubts he would get far, would probably get lost in this dark forest, but that somehow seems better in comparison to the other option. The house is screaming danger, sharp and threatening, trying to ward him away. 

Yoogni has reached the door now, tall and menacing, and pauses with his palm on the handle. He turns a little to look at Jungkook, giving him an encouraging smile. The omega tentatively steps up the final stair, cowering behind him. He can’t even look at the door. Can’t breathe. 

Yoongi pushes the grand door inward, and it swings open with a loud “whoosh”. Jungkook is sure that he still can’t breathe, chest hitched in anticipation, bile still burning at his throat as his toes curl, preparing himself to get jumped, or maybe even worse but-

……

Silence? 

One man blinks down at him. 

He’s taller than Jungkook, with pretty silver hair and slim black glasses sitting halfway up his nose. Dressed in a nice, grey shirt and tight pants, he’s wearing a pair of bunny slippers. The scent instantly smacks Jungkook in the face. Nice and neutral, similar to Yoongi - rich in scents of ebony and green. A beta. 

“Hi,” the man breathes, eyes flickering up and down Jungkook’s body wildly, drinking him in. There’s something strange to his gaze - dark longing, yet judging him. He has the urge to curl on himself, try to hide from this beta’s gaze. Like he wants him, but at the same time is unjustly cautious. 

“I’m Kim Namjoon.” 

Oh. So this is the man on the phone. The one who technically invited him to dinner. Well, he smells nice enough. Looks comfortable - nice enough to snuggle, a bit built with muscle, and- wait what? Jungkook stop that!

Jungkook jumps a foot in the air as the door shuts behind him, Yoongi raising a gentle eyebrow in his direction. The beta moves to stand beside them, looking up at Namjoon expectantly. Both Jungkook and Yoongi scan the emptiness of the corridor. Yoongi frowns. 

“Where is everyone?” 

“Ah,” Namjoon murmurs and gives Yoongi a look. Whilst Jungkook doesn’t exactly know what it means, he can kind of gauge it, considering the twisted, pained look that takes over Yoongi’s face in response. 

“Ah.” 

Awkward silence for a moment, Jungkook nibbling on his bottom lip. The silence rings off of the empty corridor halls. He slyly sneaks a glance toward the inside of the house, shivering a little at the vast darkness. Maybe, he can just turn around and ask Yoongi to-

“Shall I give you a brief tour?” Namjoon graces, gesturing carefully down the corridor, “Whilst Yoongi…. Well yes.” 

“That would be nice.” Jungkook whispers, moving toward Namjoon. The beta gives him a soft smile, guiding him with a warm hand pressed to his lower back. Jungkoook glances back once, seeing how Yoongi quickly disappears through a doorway, the sharp upset spike of his scent permeating the air. 

There was really nothing else he could have said. Caught in the moment. And now, he’s being led deeper into the den, right into the mouth of the monster. 

 Jungkook shivers, trying to control the slow spike of his own scent, desperately trying not to fill the house with his disturbing omegan pheromones. That would probably make his visit even less pleasant. Especially in the way Namjoon wrinkles his nose a little, almost looking like a grimace. 

Great. 

Not even the radiance of the mansion can take away that sting. 

The small, obvious greeting room, opens up into a wider corridor. One with plentiful, dark wood walls, with many hand-painted, jeweled framed portraits adorning them. The carpet that runs along the length of the corridor is a lovely maroon red. On the right, pressed against the wall, is a wide staircase made of that same wood. It disappears up onto a second level, with a lovely dark green carpet running up the length of it. 

Dark green and red seem to be the colour scheme, littered among the decorations and paints of each room Jungkook slowly walks through. He struggles to keep his mouth shut, to not gape at each and every little thing. But he’s certain just a single spoon from the kitchen is worth more than all the organs in his body. Black market value, of course.

On the left of the staircase is a wide archway, one that leads into the main living space. A spacious fireplace lines the far wall, already happily burning away. It stretches up to the high roof with a grand chimney, disappearing. Those dark wooden beams run high up in the rafters, a darkened chandelier hanging. Multiple red and green couches line the living space, plush and filled with cushions and blankets. 

Jungkook slowly runs his fingers over a fluffy blanket that sits on the back of one of the couches, almost shriveling at how soft it feels. Much softer than any of the blankets found in his house. How much was this? 

Small tables, bookshelves lined with books, trinkets and even jewelry can be found around the room. Is that a glass of wine? With a wine bottle? Jungkook blinks in shock, and can only scramble after Namjoon as the man walks on. Like this is normal. Like this room can be found anywhere and isn’t filled with literally millions of dollars worth. 

“And in here,” Namjoon continues, speaking in that same, quiet tone, as if he’s afraid to disturb the tense peace of the house, “is-” 

He opens the door and fumbles, letting out a yelp. Jungkook jumps at least a foot back, swallowing his shriek of shock. 

Standing short, perched in the doorway with a scowl on his face, is another man. He’s clearly blocking their path, blocking their way into what looks like another living room, except it has quite a few large, polished desks. The fact that he just appeared and so silently is sending alarm bells.

This man is much different from Namjoon. Fluffy blonde hair, definitely no glasses, and the scowl that is tugging at his lips is an expression so foul that it prickles Jungkook’s neck hairs the wrong way. Namjoon seems to recover quickly, smiling widely at the man and reaching out a hand. 

“Jimin-ah, this is-” 

“I know,” Jimin snaps shortly, sweet omegan scent spiking unhappily. Jungkook’s shoulders hunch in on himself a little, trying to make himself seem smaller, less of a threat, so many this omega will calm and stop filling the room with sour. 

What a great introduction. Being a fellow omega, surely he can tolerate Jungkook’s presence? Just until he manages to flee-

“I don't want him here.” Curt, blunt. Direct to the point. It cuts Jungkook to the bone, leaves him pale, mouth dropping open at the raw honesty. He expected this, honestly did, but didn’t expect it to be so… oblivious. 

“Jimin. Don’t be rude.” 

“It’s the truth,” the omega hisses, crossing his arms, his scowl deepening. As if out of nowhere, an arm is looping over his shoulder, laying tight over his chest, and a man’s head - filled with fluffy chesnut-coloured hair - pops into view. 

His new person, clearly a beta, makes them smell utterly lovely. His scent is mixing with Jimin’s, leaving a delightful sweet milky scent filling the room. Jimin himself smells milky, like one of Jungkook’s favourite (he only had it once, and it was a tiny sample) moisturizers. Milky and comforting. But this new beta makes him smell a lot sweet, and, a lot less like sour milk. 

“He’s not wrong.” The new beta mutters, a fresh scowl now tugging at his mouth too. Namjoon sighs and Jungkook can see how he sneaks a glance at him out of the corner of his eye. 

“Taehyung-ah. Be nice to our guest, please.” 

“We don’t want him here!” Taehyung snaps, baring his teeth with a growl. Jimin’s hand is flying up to squeeze his arm, cooing gently. He spins in the beta’s hold to press his nose into his jawline. 

It feels intimate, way too intimate for Jungkook’s eyes to be witnessing, but he can’t seem to look away. The way Jimin is tracing down Taehyung’s throat, sending gentle nips in places that are making the beta breathe out shakily, baring his neck more. 

It’s such a caring, affectionate touch, something that Jungkook certainly has never gotten. Before he can stop it, envy is gnawing at his mind, curling something hot in his stomach. He clears his throat quietly and manages to tear his eyes away, suddenly interested in a nearby painting. 

“Jimin. Taehyung.” There’s a warning lilt to Namjoon’s tone now, and he’s raising a slow eyebrow, shoulder tense. 

“Be. Nice.” 

A clear warning. Jimin’s head dips a little, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. Taehyung too is silent, arm tight around Jimin. They regard Jungkook out of cool, unwelcoming eyes and are then turning and breezing away, disappearing as quickly as they appeared. A door closes quietly, and the serene silence returns. 

“That was Jimin. And Taehyung. Our youngest.” Namjoon gives a strained laugh, adjusting the glasses on his nose. Jungkook manages to pull a fragile smile onto his face, nodding with an awkward hum. 

That didn’t go very well. 

The next room, as it turns out, is another living space. Spared of a fireplace, but the desks and plush armchairs make up for it. Namjoon explains that it’s one of their writing rooms, normally filled later in the evening. 

They make it back out into that long corridor, the silver chandeliers sparkling lowly from their posts. They don’t even make it to the next room, the room right at the end of the corridor (Jungkook doesn’t ask about the rooms they pass, unopened, knowing better), one which Namjoon tells him is the kitchen. A door slams open somewhere, something that makes Jungkook jump and Namjoon flinch. 

“Oh lord.” He whispers, closing his eyes in silent prayer. Jungkook looks at him curiously, not really understanding, but Yoongi is coming around the corner, hands tight and dragging someone, a scowl on his face and-

Alpha. 

This scent is a lot stronger, a lot richer in deeper, forest undertones. It’s the kind that chills Jungkook all over, makes him want to sink to his knees and bare his neck in submission. Normal alphas don’t smell like this.

The man Yoongi is dragging along is taller, much taller than him, yet shorter than Namjoon Black hair with a slight curl, a very handsome face, dressed in a matching set of silken clothes and slippers. 

His scowl is a lot scarier than anyone Jungkook has met so far. 

Yoongi is a little out of breath, shooting a sharp glare at the alpha, and turns to Jungkook kindly.

“Jungkook-a - ssi, this is Seokjin. One of our alphas. I’m afraid our pack alpha isn’t home right now, but Seokjin-” 

“Is this him?” Seokjin drawls, eyes narrowed as they flick up and down Jungkook’s body. Here comes that crumpling feeling again. 

“Do you see anyone else?” Yoongi questions dryly. He seems nervous, fidgeting on the spot, eyes flittering quickly between Namjoon, to Seokjin, and then to pause on Jungkook for just a moment. Just a second. 

“Doesn’t seem like very much.” 

Wow, that hurt a little. Jungkook blinks, a little stunned. Honestly, he truly did expect tension, but… this is just rude. He never should have come here. He shouldn’t let the comments get to him, he really shouldn’t, but that tugging in his gut, the squawking tattoo on his wrist bellowing “I belong”... He’s supposed to belong… well, it leaves tears searing hot behind his eyes. 

“Seokjin.” Namjoon says curtly, looking at Jungkook with concern. The elder doesn’t seem to notice, looking Jungkook up and down one last time and sneering. 

“Make sure to spray more air freshener when he leaves.” 

Now that, that is a searing hot poker in his gut. 

“Seokjin!” Yoongi snaps, his scent twisting angrily as he grabs the alpha’s arm in a vice grip. Jungkook just looks at the floor, his hearing buzzing over into pure static, eyes burning red hot. He’s not going to cry here. Not here, not now. Not in front of these people. 

Namjoon’s hand is gentle on his shoulder, and the beta is saying something, but Jungkook can’t hear him, can’t hear him at all, all he can think is disgusting, digusting, digusting- 

“I’d like to go home, please.” He whispers. 

Namjoon’s hand tightens on his shoulder for a second. The beta nods, hand loosening and moving to his lower back, guiding him toward the front door. He can hear some loud words behind him, but can’t really understand them, focussing on placing his steps in front of the other.

It’s back to that silence. Yoongi’s hand comforting on his back, but he wants to flinch away from it. He bites his lip to stop himself. He shouldn’t be rude in the very least. 

His heart is so, so low in his stomach. A sickly, churning emotion of jealousy, of guilt. Of how Jimin nuzzled into Taehyung’s throat. He wants that. It’s suffocating. All the emotions that have been building throughout this horrid visit, all the harsh hidden glares and snide words are weighing on his shoulders. Digging into his spine. 

Jungkook wants to cry. Wants to run out the door and never return, tuck himself under his duvet and pretend that this day never happened. That one day he will meet his true fated mate. That Yoongi isn’t supposed to be his. 

He wants to go home. 

Only Namjoon and Yoongi have come to the door to see him off. Given, since they're the only ones remotely nice to him. Jungkook isn’t surprised that none of the others make another appearance. Yoongi is tense beside him, shoulders stiff and smile on his face looking plastic fake. Stiff, molded. 

“It’s been a pleasure to meet you,” Namjoon murmurs, sympathy shining clear in his eyes, “I hope you have a safe trip home. That Yoongi drives safe.” 

Jungkook gives a little nod, not trusting himself to speak. If he does, his voice will break, or the tears beading in his eyes will finally fall. So, he just gives a little smile and turns to open the door. 

The doorknob is cool against his palm, ridges a little stiff, a little painful, just like the tearing of his heart, but he still pulls the door open, ready to breathe in the fresh air and-

…..

……

Why is it icy?

wHY IS THERE SNOW ON HIS FACE?!

Jungkook gives a little shriek, a little stumble as the snow lands heavily on his face, stinging at his eyes. He swats at it desperately, shrieking again as the snow starts to drip down his shirt, chilling his neck, and god it’s on his stomach, oucH-

Yoongi helps him scoop the snow away, mouth curling into a small, genuine smile as he giggles. Jungkook pouts, curling his arms around his waist as he shivers. Namjoon has an amused smile on his face as well, him moving closer as the three of them huddle to the doorway, little faces staring out and-

In front of them, a sea of white. The grand garden, curling grey statued are drenched in a coat of snow, huddling together as the sky continues to rain down. Sheets and sheets of ice. Jungkook blinks slowly, eyes tracing a snowflake as it drifts down, landing on the doorstep. 

“Well,” Yoongi says quietly, “That is one bad snowstorm.” 

----

“You can stay in here for a few nights,” Yoongi tells him in a hushed tone, leading him up the dark staircase that Jungkook had ogled at earlier, “Just until the snow stops. Enough so I can drive you home. Hopefully, it’ll only be a day or two.” 

Jungkook nods obediently, pausing behind the man as he twists a golden key in a grand knob, pushing it open to reveal a guest room. 

This guest room is bigger than Jungkook’s whole damn apartment. 

“I’ll leave you to get comfortable,” Yoongi murmurs, watching him as he steps into the room, fingers trailing over the soft bedsheets. 

“Okay,” Jungkook whispers, unsure and upset, eyes scanning around the room carefully. Yoongi gives him a strained smile from the doorway, lingering for just a moment, mouth opening as though he wants to say something. But he doesn’t, and after a moment of hesitation, he backs out of the room and clicks the door closed behind him. 

Jungkook listens to his muffled footsteps tread away. 

The room is huge. Plush and expensive. Rich with the same colours that run throughout the house - dark reds and greens. Maroon sheets line the dark wooden bed, grand dressers and mirrors that stretch up to the ceiling. One of the floorboards is worth more than Jungkook’s very being. 

The ensuite bathroom is just as grand, marble, and glossy with a grand bathtub and golden accents. A bedrobe hangs off of the back of the bathroom door from a gold hook, swaying enticingly. 

Jungkook closes the bathroom door carefully, deciding to clean up before he sleeps. 

----

Jungkook slowly wraps himself in the fluffy, maroon bedrobe, almost shivering at the pure plushness of it. It brushes against his skin in such a nice way, fluffy and light. Cautiously, after his eyes have flicked to the door, checking that he truly is alone, he fists the collar in one hand and raises it to his nose. 

Ah. 

It smells like pack. Like their slowly-growing-familiar laundry detergent, and like it has passed through a few of the pack’s hands before being placed clean inside the wardrobe. Even though there’s a hint of jealousy, of envy in his gut at Yoongi, at his pack, he has to admit, they smell amazing. If soft and warm was a scent, that would be them. A warm fire on a cold winter's day, the feel of a packmate snuggled beside you… safety. Comfort. 

It’s not your comfort though. It’s not meant for you. 

Jungkook drops the collar abruptly, turning his head away from it and biting his bottom lip, the thoughts brimming at the edge of his mind. That was rude. It’s not his place to comment on their scents, good or bad. He’s just a guest here. 

A guest until the snow melts or at least stops enough that he can be driven home. 

Great. 

It’s definitely the place he wants to be trapped - in a house with his intended mate alongside his five hostile mates. 

Perfect! 

He can kind of understand their stiffness though. Happily mated for years, complete as six, only for a young omega, one dreaming of an intended mate to come along? Mated to one of their lovers? Of course, there’s hostility, fear of Jungkook trying to uproot their happiness due to the predetermined strands of fate. 

But it still stings. Burns at his skin, licking along the tattoo on his wrist. This bloody piece of black, ink carved into his arm, is the reason for this whole mess. Trying to tear a pack apart, yet by not, he’s tearing apart his own heart. 

Shut up! You’ve only just met him! You’ll move on.

Jungkook pauses in the middle of the room, purposely holding his head a little higher to avoid breathing in the intoxicating scent of the robe, making a mental note to himself to get changed back into his day clothes in order to sleep peacefully. His eyes flicker between the enticing plush bed, to the dark wood door, and then back again. 

Should he go down and bid them goodnight? That’s the polite thing to do, isn’t it? No, that would probably be too much. It’s best if he keeps his distance. But he should at least journey down the staircase, grab his shoes from the front door, and place them in the guest room for safekeeping. He doubts he’ll be going outside anytime soon and hates the thought of potentially losing them in this massive house. 

Jungkook pushes the bedroom door open with soft palms, shivering a little as it brushes over the dark green carpet of the corridor. The carpet runs the length of the long corridor, twisting around the corner. Clean, precise, soft underneath his bare feet…. It’s soothing in comparison to the hard wooden floor of his room. 

He creeps forward, feet silent as he starts toward the dark staircase. His hand brushes over the banister, peering quietly down at the wide corridor below. The glow of the fire still radiates faintly from the archway leading to the living room, but it’s quiet. Shoes stacked by the door, coats hanging on their coatrack, grandfather clock slowly ticking away. 

Jungkook swallows thickly, suddenly nervous. His foot has barely graced the first step, hovering above the carpet as his eyes lock onto his shoes, sitting, a little muddy by the doorway and-

“I don’t understand, Yoongi.” 

A voice, sharp and blunt, distance but loud enough that it rings into Jungkook’s ears easily. He freezes, throat bobbing, foot suspended in the air. The voice is coming from somewhere in the grand living space, a shadow flickering in the orange glow on the floor. 

Seokjin? 

“I just,” a stressed, annoyed sigh, “I don’t understand, Yoongi. Why, why would you bring him here?” 

Jungkook’s heart sinks. He retracts his foot, slowly sinking down to the floor, curling into a ball by the banister. The wood digs into his shoulder, the omega resting his head against the patterned pillar, closing his eyes as he continues to listen. He shouldn’t snoop, he really shouldn’t, but he’s here now, heart heavy and throbbing, unable to swallow or breathe and-

He has to know. His fingers curl tightly into his kneecaps, nails almost breaking the skin. Curled in a ball, so small, so timid, ears craning at the top of a tall staircase. 

“We’re happy, Yoongi. Why would you bring him here, risk upsetting that?” 

Another sting. 

“We’re complete as six. We’ve been over this whole fated mate thing. We’ve never needed them. Never even taken an interest in them. Heck, Jimin met his, and still!” 

The sound of a palm hitting a table rings out. 

“ Nothing. Because we don’t need anyone else. Why would you risk our pack for a small, pathetic omega? You have everything you need right here, so why-” 

“It’s not that, Hyung,” Yoongi’s soft voice says, “I have no interest in him. I’m happy. We’re pack, we’re six. And I know that. I just felt bad for the poor kid, okay? I’m sorry.” 

Jungkook swallows thickly. It feels like there are needles stabbing into his throat, painfully jutting down inside of him. 

“I never should have met him. Never should have bought him here. That was a mistake. I’m sorry, Hyung.” 

“ He’s a mistake-” Seokjin hisses, and Jungkook can’t take it anymore. He rises silently, shoes forgotten from the first syllable he had heard, and creeps back to his room. The stairway is quiet, mournfully behind him. 

He closes the bedroom door with a soft click, pausing with his hand still resting on the knob. A sharp breath rattles out from his mouth, and his forehead collides with the wood of the door with a little thunk. He closes his eyes. 

It’s just- 

It’s all just too much. Tears are burning behind his closed eyelids, and no matter how much he tries to pray them away, will himself to not cry, he can’t help it. Not now. He’s trapped here. 

Jungkook pushes away from the door as the tears start to slip, scrubbing harshly at his eyes as a pathetic whimper falls from his mouth. He presses his palms harder against his eyes, trying to stop himself, but the floodgates have opened. 

An ugly sob rips its way out of his mouth. 

 He barely makes it to the edge of the bed before he crumples, burying his face into the side of the duvet, draped against the side of the bed frame. He curls himself into as small of a ball as possible, attempting to muffle his sobs the best he can. 

It just hurts. He doesn’t want to ruin anything. Doesn't want to tear anyone apart, or intrude. But he’s been waiting for so long. Waited so long for his fated mate, the person that destiny has hand-selected for him. The person rumoured to complete you, enrich your life and your senses. Why can’t he have that? 

To be honest, Jungkook thinks bitter as he cries into the comforter, unable to breathe due to the wrenching nature of his sobs, it always has been the intended-mates bullshit that has ruined his life. It’s the reason his father, his only remaining parent, abandoned him at fourteen, off on a venture of grandness to find his intended. Leaving a child, leaving Jungkook alone to fend for himself. A baby omega in a cruel, cold world. 

He’s lucky he’s still alive. 

And yet, despite that, Jungkook had always held onto hope, onto the fantasy that he would find his destined, that they would welcome him with open arms and warm smiles, save him from the grueling eighteen-hour work days and allow him to finally, finally be happy. 

That fantasy is shattered now, shards of glass clattering to the floor. 

He’s never going to have that. He’s always going to be alone. Unwanted. 

Jungkook doesn’t even manage to crawl into the bed that night, instead, just buried his wet cheeks into the collar of his robe to breathe in that comforting scent of pack. Something that he won’t admit eventually made him settle, but not before the exhaustion of crying, eyes heavy and chest aching causes him to fall asleep.

Chapter Text

Groggy. A thick layer of unconscious confusion is plentiful over his mind. This is the nicest he’s slept in a long time. He doesn’t really ever want to get up. Yet, alas. Jungkook grumbles, eyes scrunching as his fingers grip into something soft. He’s opening tired eyes, lidden with uncertainty, only to be greeted with vibrant, maroon sheets. He blinks once. These are much too expensive to be his sheets. Blinks twice. 

That’s strange.

Thrice. 

Wait…

He’s shooting completely upright in the bed, hurriedly wiping the trail of drool that has taken refuge on his chin. The room in front of him has him slapping his hands roughly to his cheeks, trying to arose himself from whatever mystical dream he’s trapped in. But… the room doesn’t move. 

And then oh.

Oh. 

Right. 

Yoongi. The pack. 

Fuck. 

Bright white light is glowing through the cracks of thick red curtains to the right of him, a flashing blind of ice coating the visible glass. 

Jungkook slides out of the bed slowly, unsure, carefully padding over to the window to draw the curtains back just a smidge. His eyes widen, pupils dilating a little as he stares at the sea of snow below him. 

He’s high above the ground, the gardens stretching out beyond him, but everything is coated in white. Thick and heavy. Snowflakes continue to tumble from the sky, his eyes tracking a few that tumble gracefully against the window. The gardens look much broader from up here, a sight that he’s sure is delightful in the blooming spring. 

But the snow doesn’t look like it’s going to be getting any better anytime soon. He had hoped that it would have at the very least stopped actively snowing when he awoke. That does not seem to be the case. If anything, the snowfall has only grown thicker. 

Jungkook sighs, folding his arms tightly around himself, like in some world that could offer him a slither of comfort. It doesn’t, doesn’t do anything at all. 

And the room is colder now, much too big for him, stretching out around him in such an intimidating way. His eyes track over to the closed main door, shivering a little at the simple thought of having to face the pack again. The unpleasantness of yesterday’s introductions has him almost getting teary, the thought of having to go through it all again, the unwelcoming coldness and hostility…

He doesn’t want to leave this room. 

Surely, it’s big enough that he should be able to live in here for a week or so. Maybe he can creep into the kitchen in the early hours of the morning and steal some bread. 

But that would be rude. No matter how heavy the dread is in his chest, he doesn’t want to make the pack dislike him anymore. Holing up in his room is a right way to be disrespectful, show that he has no intention of trying to cohabitate. He’ll have to journey out there, put on a brave face and just stay out of the way. His stomach grumbles anyway, churning urgently. 

With another sigh, Jungkook slowly walks around the bed, picking up his clothes from where they’ve been neatly sitting on the floor. They don’t smell, maybe a little stained from the snow, so they will have to do. Jungkook can’t even fathom thinking of asking for clothes. His eyes brush to the grand, sturdy doors of a wardrobe, wondering if there would even be anything in there.

Surely, it would just be empty. He can’t imagine having to ask for clothing. They’d be mad at him for that, right? He’ll just make do with what he has, survive with one set.

He dresses, combing through his hair with soft fingers, and pauses in front of the door. His fingers linger on the doorknob, a knot growing in his throat. His bare feet are already cold on the wooden floor, shivering and purple. Maybe it’s foreshadowing, reflecting the growing cold inside his chest, the freezing of his heart with every step he takes into this damn pack. 

Jungkook doesn’t want to go out. Doesn’t want to have to face them.

You can do this, Jungkook. 

A deep breath and he’s pulling open the door, stepping out into the corridor. Willingly walking into the snake's nest. 

The descent down the staircase is pure silent, the house still and quiet. 

It’s like nobody else is awake yet, everything frozen in motion. 

Jungkook’s eyes scan over the front door, over his shoes still sitting there. Surprisingly, they aren’t muddy anymore. Has someone cleaned them? He shakes his head a little, turning to peak around the staircase banister. The long corridor is completely empty, yet the paintings on the wall seem to glare at him. He walks down it slowly, hunkering in on himself, eyes glued to the thick floorboards below. 

It’s terribly eerie, the silence. In such a huge house as this one, one would suppose it would be bustling with life. Maids perhaps, the owners taking advantage of it’s size to enjoy every aspect of their day. But not, it’s as dead as a graveyard, not even the wind making a noise.

Jungkook pauses, fist hovering over the door to where he thinks the kitchen is. He swallows in a stuttering breath and then knocks on it gently. Knocking? Why is he knocking on a door inside the house? God, doesn’t he look stupid-

He grasps the handle gently and pushes the door open, sticking his head in cautiously. The kitchen is large, spacious, with a huge kitchen island sitting right in the middle. It’s made entirely out of that same, wood, a little richer in colour, with the odd pop of grey stone. A huge, open oven sits against one wall, fire blazing away steadily. The chairs seated next to the island have dark red cushions and many shelves adorn the walls. A clock ticks along lazily. It’s homey, filled with objects and accessories, a set of matching mugs hanging from a set of hooks on the wall. 

Jungkook steps in quietly, ear pricked as he scans the kitchen. It appears empty, silent pray for the clock, but there’s a large jar of some sort of jam sitting on the kitchen island, a little plate of butter, and a knife perched next to it. He takes one more step into the room and promptly jumps at least six feet in the air when he hears a door close nearby. 

He stands, completely tense, hands curled to his chest. His eyes start to wobble dangerously as he hears another click, and a hidden door on the left of him opens. Jungkook is sure he’s about to cry, almost vibrating in fear. He shouldn’t be in here. Oh god, he really shouldn’t. Is he invading this space? He knew he should have stayed in his room, he- 

Eyes stare back at him, widened in surprise. 

Jungkook stumbles back a little, eyes enlarging even more at the unfamiliar face. Who is this? This is a pack member Jungkook hasn’t seen before. Shorter than Seokjin, Namjoon, but there’s a strong air of authority to him, hair curled over his forehead. And why is he looking at Jungkook like that, eyes scanning him in such a soft fashion-

Alpha. 

His scent, warm like a campfire, smokey and crisp. There’s a slight hint of sweetness somewhere in there, combating the layer of smoke perfectly. He smells mouth-watering, like those tales of camping Jungkook has heard on the street, the warm glow as marshmallows melt over an open fire... The pinnacle of alpha. 

“Hi little one,” The alpha says, and his voice is delightful, smooth and light and it has Jungkook melting, tension flowing from his shoulders. 

“Hi,” He says shyly, bunny teeth poking out over his lip as he tries a smile. The pack alpha smiles back at him warmly, stepping closer so his hand can brush over the omega’s elbow. This alpha is nothing like the others. Instantly tender and welcoming, acting as if he’s known Jungkook his whole life. As if he isn’t a pup he’s just greeted for the first time. 

“Are you hungry? Namjoonie made some bread a while ago, it should still be warm.” 

Wow. 

“Yes please,” Jungkook whispers, allowing himself to be guided towards the kitchen island. He slides onto one of the chairs, running his fingers over the plush cushion underneath him. It’s warmed by the open oven nearby, comfortable and tall. A sound in front of him makes him flinch, eyes shooting down to the counter, only to see a plate of bread has been set in front of him. 

It’s warm, still steaming a little, plush and moist. 

The pack alpha places a knife carefully on the side of the plate, unscrewing the lid on the jam jar. Jungkook takes it as an invitation, slowly spreading a large hunk of jam onto the edge of the bread. It’s thick, with chunks of strawberries spread throughout the jam. Homemade. 

He takes a bite eagerly, almost moaning at how good it tastes. The bread is warm, jam rich and sweet, although not overpowering, the crust a little crunchy but inside soft. He begins to eat eagerly, spreading jam over the slice as he goes, licking the crumbs off of his fingers. 

A thick, clay cup of something hot is placed in front of him, and Jungkook looks up at the alpha, jam smudged over his bottom lip. The alpha is looking at him fondly, eyes almost as warm as the fire crackling behind him, as his scent, reaching out a thumb to softly wipe the jam away. Jungkook keens. Leaning into the touch, allowing the alpha’s fingers to brush over his cheek.

 It’s nice. A touch he hasn’t felt in such a long time, in such a way like he’s cared for. A mate affectionately touching their other, fingers tender and-

A door opens. 

Jungkook pulls back so fast he’s sure hes got whiplash, almost tumbling backward off of the chair. The alpha leans back, casually wiping the jam on his thumb on a nearby napkin, eyes lazily flicking to the door. He’s leaning on the counter in such a carefree way, oozing a calm scent. 

Standing in the doorway is a familiar beta, one that Namjoon had scolded yesterday, chestnut hair still ruffled with sleep. His eyes are calm, sleep-lidden, at least until they fall onto the kitchen counter, spotting Jungkook hunched on his chair. Then, his eyes are contorting into a scowl, a rough expression tugging at his lips. 

“What’s he doing in here?” 

Jungkook isn’t hungry anymore. He stares down at the bread in front of him blankly, the red of the jam suddenly unappetizing. It’s too warm in the kitchen, sickly so, the fire burning at his nerves.

“Eating, Taehyung. That’s what you do in a kitchen.” The pack alpha says simply, turning to pour hot water into another one of those mugs. He stirs it, walking carefully to hand it to the sleepy beta. 

Taehyung glares at the cup dangerously, grudgingly taking a sip. He seems to melt a little, back to blinking sleepily, taking a few steps forward to place the mug down. Like the aggression simply vanished, washed down with that one sip. The pack alpha is simply opening his arms, and the beta slots into them easily, burying his nose into his neck tiredly. 

Jungkook doesn’t think he should watch, it’s much too intimate, much too private, yet, he can’t seem to tear his eyes away. Watching with envy as the beta rakes his nose up the pack alpha’s throat, nuzzling into his scent gland. And the alpha is holding him in such a tender way, like the beta in his arms is the most precious thing he’s ever held. 

Jungkook wants that. 

His gaze falls back to the plate in front of him. A dollop of jam drips onto the plate, sliding down the crust. He’s really not hungry anymore, a little nauseous if anything. And the drink looks unappetizing too, swirling with the essence of home, of love. Things that Jungkook has never gotten. 

Things that Jungkook doesn’t deserve. 

The pack alpha is talking to Taehyung lightly, running a hand through his hair, asking him if he’d like some bread. That it is Namjoon’s loaf, made fresh. Toasted or just plain? They have that jam that Yoongi made as well, he could use that on it. Or fresh marmalade that Seokjin prepared last week. 

His voice is too tender. Too gentle. It’s making Jungkook boil with jealousy. He can’t stand this. He’s never been exposed to an environment like this before, never been in a situation of such a caring nature, and it’s making him sick. 

Silently, he slips from his chair, pressing a palm to the kitchen door and pushing it open. He clicks it closed quietly behind him, leaving the members of the pack to their affectionate embrace. 

The omega finds himself strolling down the corridors endlessly, trying his best to just stay out of everyone’s way. He doesn’t see any more of the pack, eventually trodding back up the staircase to see if he can explore any of those nice twisted peaks he saw from the outside. 

Walking is the best way to try and urge the invasive thoughts away, the curling of self-depreciation and loathing. The envy he feels for the members of this pack, the jealousy he feels when he pictures his own, cold apartment, stiff with only his scent. 

He’s lonely. 

Desperately so.

The corridors are an endless maze, a curling of dark wood and fine paintings. Jungkook is walking down a particularly long corridor, red carpet underfoot, reaching a crossroads of four separate corridors. He happens to glance to his right, meaning to just wander straight on but… then he sees it. 

Standing grand on the wall, huge and expressive. 

Jungkook's feet are instantly carrying him that way, approaching the painting with tentative fascination. The painting is massive, taking up all the space on the wall, a dead end in the corridor. There’s a small table holding a vase of roses on the right of it, pressed right up into the corner. 

Jungkook stares up at the large painting in wonderment, trying to take it all in. 

It’s large and wonderful, framed with gold. 

A painting of the pack. 

It’s a grand painting of vibrant colour. The pack alpha is in the middle, strong and eyes a fierce gold, Seokjin just in front of him, leaning back against his chest. Jimin is in front of Seokjin, tucked in between his legs and leaning back on him in such a delicate way, eyes low and hooded. Taehyung is curled next to Jimin, one hand reaching up to hold onto the pack alpha, his head resting on Jimin’s shoulder. Namjoon is on the other side of Jimin, curling back against Seokjin, a hand around the omega’s waist. And then Yoongi, Jungkook’s intended, tucked up in between the pack alpha and just behind Taehyung, a hand curled in Taehyung’s hair and cheek on the pack alpha’s shoulder. 

A perfect picture. 

They’re all perfect pieces of a puzzle. 

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” 

Jungkook jumps out of his skin, spinning around at such a speed that he almost falls over himself. His heartbeat is in his mouth, racing wildly. Namjoon is there behind him, hands tucked deep into his pockets, eyes glossed and thoughtful. 

How on earth did he get there so quietly? 

“Yes,” the omega breathes, out of breath and still a little shocked, plastering a tense smile onto his face. “His golden eyes are… gorgeous. You all are.” 

“Hoseok’s always had lovely eyes.” 

“Hoseok?” Jungkook asks quietly and Namjoon shoots him a look. 

“Yes. Our pack alpha.” 

“Oh.” 

Namjoon hums, fingers reaching out to gently brush the painting. There’s something awfully tender in his eyes as he stares at the painting of his pack mates, lingering on each and every one of their faces with desirable affection. 

“Hoseok has royal blood, you know.” He murmurs and Jungkook’s eyes are almost popping out of his head. 

“He didn’t want the pack near the toxicity though. The publicity and lack of privacy royalty have. Has us all hidden away until the duty comes calling. We’re happier that way.” 

“Ah,” Jungkook breathes, eyes turning back to the fierce alpha eyes in the painting. Elegant. The image of a perfect pack. Every spot filled.

There’s no spot for Jungkook. 

Royalty. 

Never was. 

He should have never come here. 

Never will be. 

----

“Taehyung-ssi,” Jungkook says quietly, fiddling by the laundry door as if he hasn’t been searching for it for the last thirty minutes, “Can I help in any way?”

As if he didn’t hear Namjoon and Seokjin talking in the living room, carelessly mentioning that Taehyung was dealing with the laundry today. Wouldn’t it be nice if Jungkook helped? The only problem had been locating it. But he’s here now, trying to hold how out of breath he is. 

The beta looks at him out of a cold side glare, collecting the wet clothes into the basket, ready to go hang them out in the indoor drying space just a few doors down. He seems to sigh heavily, eyes flicking to the filled basket beside him, and then back cold in Jungkook’s direction. Another heaving sigh, and he jerks his head toward the filled basket. 

“You can carry that.” 

Jungkook tries to restrain the little happy up spike his scent takes, desperately not wanting to be overpowering or make Taehyung’s nose wrinkle. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so happy about laundry before! 

He silently slides behind the beta, scooping up the basket, and follows him out into the hallway. Taehyung doesn’t even spare him a second glance, taking firm, determined strides until they reach the drying room, hipping the door open and not bothering to hold it for Jungkook. 

Unluckily, it hits his hip with a painful thunk, right into the bone, but the omega just swallows back his whimpers. He doesn’t want to be a bother. Not an inconvenience. Not now.  

Taehyung doesn’t seem to notice that either, simply starting to shake out the clothes and hang them on the lines. Jungkook follows suit silently, occasionally sneaking a glance toward the silent beta. 

Taehyung doesn’t look at him at all. He doesn’t smell very happy either. Similar to Jimin, creamy, but there’s a sweet hint of fruit unlining that. Like sweet strawberries, similar to that delicious jam. Eating that seems like so long ago. 

They finish hanging the clothes up quickly, Jungkook trying his best to ignore every set of boxers he happens to hang. How petite Jimin’s are, how some of them are stretching a little in-

Nope.  

Taehyung simply sniffs in his direction, collecting the empty baskets and barely spitting a “thanks” in his direction before leaving. 

And now he’s alone.

Jungkook stands there, amidst the drying clothes, eyes a little glossy as the door slams. His hip hurts, already bruising purple just above his waistband, and Taehyung really doesn’t seem to like him. Is it too much to just ask them to be polite to them? Jungkook is just trying to be helpful… 

Maybe going back to the whole “remaining-in-his-room-for-two-weeks” plan is a good idea. His help seems to only inconvenience everyone even more than his presence already does. 

Jungkook drags his feet back to his own room, closing the door quietly. His bathroom has no bruise cream, so he decides to give up, face planting into his pillow and just trying his best to leave it be. 

In some sort of fever dream, late in the night, a light tap on his door has him opening it. A little tube of bruise cream is sitting on the carpet, the corridor empty. It might just be his mind playing tricks on him, but there’s a faint scent of Seokjin in the air. 

Jungkook goes to sleep with a little smile on his face, cream cool on his hip. 

----

He’s lost track of how few or many days it has been, simply trying to stay out of everyone’s way. Confining himself to his room as much as possible, avoiding eye contact… it’s draining. Tiring. He wants to go home. 

At least the bed is comfortable. 

Jungkook wakes to sour. It’s extremely pungent, rotten milk filling his room. It’s suffocating, enough to make him gag. He finds himself stumbling out of bed, dragging his robe over his shoulders as he opens his door.

The corridor reeks of spoilt milk much more pungent than the scent in his bedroom, leading the omega to make his way to the banister, and lean on it carefully. 

Below on the lower floor, the other omega of the house is standing, arms crossed and bottom lip pouting. Namjoon is there too, trying to soothe him, cuddling him close with light words. 

He doesn’t really want to interrupt the moment, but Jimin’s sour scent is making him gag a little, normally so sweet, but now so intense. Jungkook swallows back his nerves, the grating feeling of pathetic in his throat, and cautiously calls down, asking what’s wrong. 

Jimin’s sulk just seems to deepen at the sound of his voice, burrowing into Namjoon’s arms. 

Ouch.

“We can’t find his nesting blankets,” Namjoon calls up softly, combing through Jimin’s soft hair, “His favourite ones. And the other betas are out in the garden, trying to catch some game, so we can’t ask them where they put them. He’s very upset.” 

“Of course I am!” Jimin snaps, another pulse of rotten filling the corridor. Jungkook swallows thickly, calling down again to softly ask what they look like. 

“Very soft,” Namjoon tells him, “light pink and green in colour. There should be four of them. Two pink, two light green. You should be able to tell when you find them. Shall we try searching again, hmm?” He’s addressing Jimin now, kissing the omega’s head, “Come on, baby, let’s look again.” 

Jungkook pulls away from the banister, nibbling on his bottom lip. Will the omega like him more if Jungkook manages to find his blankets? He’d really like the omega to like him, even though he’s only going to be here for a short time. He’s read tales of omegas, the closeness that is attainable between them, nesting together and-

That’s a little too much. He’d just like Jimin to be able to be in the same room as him for more than five seconds. Does he have more of a chance with another omega, than he does with a beta like Taehyung?

He lumbers off down the corridor, arms tucked tight to his body, slowly opening every door that looks like a laundry closet. He accidentally ends up opening a few rooms , luckily they don’t seem like bedrooms, more like little libraries or rooms of plants, but he feels a sting of intrusion either way. Jungkook must’ve gone through at least ten different cupboards, searching through the abundance of sheets and folded clothing, and he’s about ready to give up. He still doesn’t really have the layout of the house engrained in his mind. 

Why did Jungkook ever think he could find anything? Why is he trying to make friends with this pack? He’s going to be out the second the snow melts enough, back out onto the streets to never see any of them again. So why is there such an intense urge in his chest to impress? He doesn’t understand his own omegan urges sometimes. Especially not now.

Jungkook is trodding aimlessly down one of the corridors, a feeling of failure settling deep in his chest. He pauses by another one of those dark doors, eyes flicking over the doorknob. With a shrug, he tugs it open, greeted by another stack of neat sheets. 

Yet, there’s a nice milky tone leaking out from somewhere deep in the closet, and Jungkook’s nose twitches in interest. 

He’s carefully picking into the back of the closet, almost being swallowed whole, when his fingers hit something impossibly soft. He’s drawing back, dragging the fabric back with him into the light, and a lovely light pink meets his eyes. Muffling his excited squeal, he dives back in, managing to find the light green ones as well, ending with a large stack of stunning, soft blankets piled high in his arms. 

Jungkook stumbles down the corridor, excitement swirling in his stomach. Is Jimin going to be happy with him? Will he like Jungkook more? It’s a hyperactive, hysterical sense of joy. He walks just a little quicker, managing to find the correct corridor that leads to the staircase. 

The banister comes into the corner of his view and he stumbles a little, barely able to see around the stack of blankets. He can hear Jimin’s voice drifting upstairs, upset and squeaky, scent still spoilt. 

“Look!” Jungkook says excitedly, heaving the blankets up a bit so they can be seen over the banister. Jimin gasps and Jungkook can’t see his expression, but his milky scent is blooming sweet, a few happy claps echoing in the air. He hurries forward a little more, eagerly to finally hand Jimin his blankets. 

“Jungkook, be careful!” Namjoon calls quickly, taking a step toward the staircase with furrowed brows and-

There’s nothing under Jungkook’s feet. 

Frozen in time. 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

His mouth opens into a little ‘o’ as he realises he must’ve missed the stairs. That he’s simply stepping on air, knees buckling forward.

The world is ticking by in slow motion as he starts to tip forward, eyes widening in horror. He’s going to fall. Topple down, with the blankets probably not lessening the fall. Jimin shrieks in horror and Jungkook’s eyes snap shut, squeezing as he prepares for-

Someone’s fingers fasten painfully tight around his waist, tugging him back with the raw strength that only an alpha can muster. He’s gasping, the rich scent of Seokjin filling his lungs as the blankets tumble down the staircase loudly. Then Hoseok is there, grabbing him out of the other alpha’s arms roughly, tipping his head up with urgency. 

His smokey scent is overpowering, dark, and anxious.

“Are you hurt?” He asks quickly, firmly, eyes searching Jungkook’s face. Jungkook trembles in his hold, shaking his head gently, his entire body shaking with the very fear of the fall. Why won’t he stop shaking? He didn’t actually fall. Now he’s just being silly. 

Namjoon is collecting the blankets at the bottom of the staircase, Jimin stumbling up toward him, face pale and twisted. 

Seokjin is grabbing the omega, collecting him into his arms, and hushing him as Jimin starts to cry. His fingers reach out, tightening in Jungkook’s shirt. 

“You’re okay.” Seokjin murmurs, giving him a moment before gently tugging him away from Jungkook, Namjoon hurrying after them with the nesting blankets. Jungkook watches them go, a little nauseous, Hoseok’s arms tight around him. The pack alpha has a sharp prick to his scent, one that Jungkook can’t exactly pinpoint. He can’t be bothered to, not when exhaustion settles heavily over his eyes, adrenaline draining away. 

“I’d like to lie down,” he proclaims in a trembling tone, and Hoseok makes a worried noise, scooping him up from the floor with ease. Jungkook didn’t expect it, Hoseok’s smokey smell is so much more intense cradled in his arms, and he wants to bury into his neck, inhale that dominating scent of alpha. Instead though, he bites his tongue firmly, nosing a little into his shoulder as the pack alpha carries him to his room, pushing the door open with one hip. 

He doesn’t want Hoseok to go, doesn’t want to be left alone for the pack’s scents to go cold and frail, but he can hear Jimin’s cries from down the corridor, Hoseok’s scent prickling in concern. 

“Go.” He whispers. Hosoek looks at him for a moment, worried and soft, smoothing a hand through his hair. But he’s gone just like that, door closing behind him as he thunders off to the pack omega. 

Jungkook can’t help but feel the sting of it. He’s an omega too, right? He’s the one who almost fell down the stairs? Why does Jimin only get comfort?

Right. He’s pack. 

Right. 

Jungkook’s not. 

Right. 

---- 

Jungkook pokes his head quietly into the living room, stomach dropping a little when he doesn’t see anyone at first. It’s like the pack has suddenly started avoiding the public spaces since Jungkook has arrived, the writing room permanently barren and silent. 

However, nestled in one of the corners, curled in a plush armchair, is the very beta that is supposed to be his intended. 

Yoongi holds a book in his lap, slowly turning the pages as he reads through them. The fireplace next to him crackles merrily, filling the entire room in a warm golden glow. Jungkook swallows the knot in his throat and takes a tentative step into the space. Instantly, Yoongi’s eyes are whipping up, locking onto him loitering in the doorway. 

“Jungkook-ah,” He murmurs, a warm smile slipping onto his face as he slowly closes the book in his lap. Jungkook takes a cautious step forward, eyes flicking to the still falling snow outside. 

“I just came to… say goodnight,” He whispers, shy eyes dropping to the carpet. Yoongi makes a sound in his throat, maybe a coo, and holds out his hand. Jungkook stares at it in confusion, stepping forward to slowly slide their palms together. Yoongi smiles at him, and Jungkook finds himself kneeling politely in front of the chair, peering at the book on his lap. 

“What are you reading?” He asks. 

“Oh,” Yoongi breathes, smoothly flicking the hard-cover book open again, hundreds of tiny words spilling over the pages. Jungkook stares at them in confusion, the jumble of black ink and curl of each letter just on the tip of his comprehension. He never had a chance to read in the past, apartment barren of any books or writing materials. 

“-with lots of-” Yoongi cuts off from his little speech with a frown, looking down at Jungkook’s searching eyes, and then at the page he’s staring so intently at. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Huh?” Jungkook flinches back, a little startled, an embarrassed flush spreading over his cheeks. “Oh, um, yes, it’s just that…” His voice drops even lower, barely a shameful whisper, wondering why he’s even revealing this vulnerable part of himself, “I can’t… read.” 

Yoongi’s eyes expand to at least twice his size. He seems a little lost for words, eyes fumbling from the page to Jungkook’s red face, and then back again. Suddenly, something kind and tender is twisting over his features, a cautious hand coming out to pet Jungkook’s hair. The omega stiffens a little but eventually melts into the patting hand. 

“That’s okay,” Yoongi murmurs, calm and sweet, “Hyung will teach you, okay? Writing too. Hyung will teach you while you’re here.” 

Jungkook’s face flushes to an even darker shade of red, almost matching the carpets. He can’t seem to speak, tongue too big in his mouth, eyes wide as his omegan scent sweetens intensely. Yoongi doesn’t point it out, just smiles kindly again, petting through his hair. 

Something is blooming in Jungkook’s chest, a pink flower, and he knows he shouldn’t be watering it. Shouldn’t even be entertaining the idea, nurturing these feelings. So, he’s shooting to his feet as though he’s been shot, stumbling backward.

“I- thank you, Hyung,” He stammers, bowing awkwardly, “I’ll just- go- bed-” And he’s rushing out of the room, almost tripping over his own feet. Yoongi doesn’t try to stop him, a smile still on his face as he watches silently. 

Jungkook tumbles into the bed, pulling a pillow tight over his head and breathing out shakily. Trying to decide what type of weed killer he should pour on the blooming floral that is currently thriving inside his lungs. 

----

He’s been here a week. The pack isn’t any nicer, with only Hoseok, Namjoon and Yoongi even speaking to him. The others have remained standoffish, cold glares and stiff shoulders. Jungkook has all but given up, reduced himself to his bedroom. After all, why should he try anymore? He’s nothing to them, nothing to any of them. 

Yet, here he is, trying again.

Jungkook wonders what the hell he’s doing, wrapped in one of Namjoon’s thick, brown winter coats, a pair of Jimin’s thick snowboots on his feet. Hoseok is giving him a cautious look, smokey alpha scent spiking a little in caution. He’s handing Jungkook one of the crossbows, mounted on the wall in the hunting room, straight next to the stable-like door with two sections that lead outside. 

Jungkook’s hunted for years. Small game usually, hunting during the winters to feed himself when he was younger. So, why not try and prove his worth by hunting something in the forest? Something small, something that Seokjin can turn into a small dish. Maybe some squirrels? 

Hoseok hands him the crossbow carefully, assuring that he knows how to use it, how to load it, how to be safe. 

“Are you sure about this?” The pack alpha asks, clearly worried, eyeing up the thick, still falling snow outside. Jungkook gives him a relaxed smile, a little bundle of nerves twirling in his chest. He knows his way around a crossbow. And it’s not like Hoseok is his pack alpha anyway. Why would he be worried? If Jungkook accidentally shoots himself in the foot, it might actually help the pack. Get rid of him. 

He dampens a little at those thoughts, fingers tight around the crossbow. 

“I'm sure.” 

“If you’re not back in an hour, I’m coming to get you with one of the betas.” Hoseok tells him firmly, pushing open the lower section of the door, leaving room for Jeongguk to step outside. He instantly sinks into the snow, up to his ankle height, and squints out over the sea of white. The Pack alpha watches him go, leaning on the bottom section of the door, watching him until he’s out of sight. The forest looms in front of him, dark and tall. Every step feels like walking toward the gallows. But he’s not sure what is worse - the pack alpha’s gaze on his back, or the growing sense of doom in front of him. 

Stepping behind one of the huge trees, relief flows over Jungkook’s shoulders as the searing burn of the alpha’s gaze disappears. 

He begins to trek deeper into the dark forest, trying not to let the shadows, the slippery ice puddles, and the blinding scent of snow put him off. He needs to prove himself! This is a great idea!

----

This is the worst idea! 

Jungkook is freezing, thick coat barely repelling the snowflakes as they begin to fall harder and harder, coming down more frequently and heavier . It’s getting slippier too, ice forming all over the ground. His fingers at this point are pure purple, burning in a red hot pain and he desperately wishes that he had bought gloves out with him. 

Two squirrels are clutched in one of his fists, killed with a clean shot through the head. The crossbow is carried in the other, straining his arm. It’s kind of pathetic, to be honest. Two squirrels? Really? That isn’t even one bowl of soup. 

Pathetic. Pathetic. Pathetic. But he’s getting much too cold, lips past the point of trembling. With a defeated sigh, a shudder, Jungkook starts to trudge back in the direction of the house, looming deep in the distance. 

He’s barely made it a few steps, the snow now way past his ankles, soaking into the thick trousers he managed to find tucked in the back of his wardrobe. He has stopped shivering at this point, much too cold to even care. 

The only thought in his mind though is the word pathetic echoing. How does he expect to impress them, fit in, if he can only catch two squirrels? Jungkook scolds himself mentally, taking another step with a big sigh, crossbow wobbling dangerously and-

His feet are suddenly whipping out from underneath him, tumbling down, down down. Jungkook lets out a yelp, the world spinning white as he falls, a sharp zing echoing through the air as the crossbow crashes to the ground and-

Pain. Erupting hot in his arm, pure lava overpowering any sense of the cold, any burning of the snow. Jungkook cries out, gripping desperately at his wrist as he rolls onto his back, snow chilling into his neck. The pain is horrible, blistering, and unending, Jungkook throwing his head back with another cry. He manages to bend his head up after a moment, eyes glistening with tears, peeling back the sleeve of the coat desperately. Something sharp has slit through his arm, maybe a stray arrow, but regardless, a thick wound is trailing down his lower arm, already soaking with blood. Jungkook makes sure to roll the coat fully back with shaking hands, not wanting to taint it with blood. 

It stings against the cold air, red slowly dripping into white. 

He pulls himself to his feet, ankles wobbling dangerously as he almost falls over again, fingers turning white from where they grip at his wrist. He finds the squirrels, now drenched with snow, and the crossbow, now eerily unloaded, and manages to drag them both up with one hand. 

It’s a long walk, little whimpers of pain dripping from Jungkook’s mouth, the coat slowly rolling back down over his wound as he pants. He eventually reaches the treeline, feet dragging with exhaustion and head heavy. 

He can see the stable door from here. Yet, it takes him another ten minutes to get there, heavy gasps coming from his mouth as his arm throbs, crossbow twinging at his other arm. 

The top of the stable door swings open, as if someone has been waiting impatiently, and Jungkook wants to cry in relief when Yoongi’s familiar head appears, lips drawn tight in worry. He seems to relax a little at seeing Jungkook’s face, simply leaning and waiting patiently as the omega limps closer. 

His calm face quickly contorts though, when Jungkook draws close enough to smell, twisting in concern. His eyes are scanning over his body, focusing on the carefully held arm, his scent souring. Yet, he doesn’t force Jungkook, just smiles tensely at him as Jungkook stops, head nodded a little in defeat. He presents the two squirrels timidly, fighting the wobbling of his bottom lip. 

“I know it’s not a lot, but..” 

“Thank you, Jungkook-ah,” Yoongi says with that same smile, pushing open the bottom section of the door to grab the crossbow from his arms as well, the squirrels held casually in one of his fists-

Sweet. Milky. 

Jimin’s head is appearing over Yoongi’s shoulder, eyes scanning over the bow in his hands. They flick to the two squirrels, held up by their tails, corners of his mouth curling a little. A cruel snicker rips from his mouth, eyes glinting. 

“Really? Even Taehyung can do better than that.” 

Taehyung. A beta. Beta’s aren’t built for hunting, are immensely advanced trackers, healthily and commonly used on hunting teams. But the actual hunt? Beta’s are known for not being the best. Omega’s however, small quick, and quiet, have been known to rival an alpha’s raw strength in hunting. 

It burns. 

“Jimin!” Yoongi snaps, spinning to face the omega with an acid tone spiking in his scent, but Jungkook can’t stand to be there anymore. His arm is throbbing, eating into his bone, and swallowing back his tears, he shoves past the two of them, hurrying toward the door. 

“Jungkook-ah!” Yoongi calls after him, worried, fingers brushing his elbow, but Jungkook doesn’t stop. Faintly, he can hear Yoongi scolding Jimin, but it doesn’t matter. What he said was true. Jungkook is pathetic. He slams his bedroom door with tears dripping down his face, dropping the coat to the floor. His arm is coated in red, bleeding heavily. 

He manages to stumble to the sink, rinsing it under warm water as he fumbles in one of the drawers, hoping there’s a bandage or something. Luckily there is, gauze too, and Jungkook manages to dab the blood away with shaking fingers, wrapping the wound up tightly. 

He doesn’t leave his room for the rest of the evening, hiding his face under his pillow to muffle his little sobs. The hours seem to tick into nothing, the tears slowly drying on his cheeks, leaving him just shallowing breathing on the bed. A small tap on the door has him freezing, snapping his eyes closed and turning stock still. 

The door opens, quiet footsteps padding over to his bed. Jungkook can’t smell who it is, sense muffled by the already strong scent of pack on his sheets. But he feels soft fingers on his injured arm, gently turning it to scope out the damage. And then they’re gone, leaving a little tray of fresh soup and bread on his nightstand. 

Jungkook doesn’t eat it, rolling over to the farthest point of the bed and sinking into a restless sleep. 

The soup goes cold. 

Chapter Text

Jungkook makes sure to wear long sleeve tops around the pack, bandages hidden under a layer of cotton. He cleans it diligently every night as well, desperate for none of them to smell the blood. To notice. He’s sure Yoongi did on that fateful day - the rise of his eyebrows, sharp realization in his eyes - but Jungkook doesn’t want anyone else to know. He’s ashamed of it, really. So pathetic to shoot himself in the arm with his own crossbow. 

Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic. 

The sharp words from Jimin’s tongue still lashes at his heart every few hours, the familiar sting of shame shooting through every vein in his body. Jungkook hopes that Yoongi has just thrown those two pathetic squirrels out. They’re not good enough for anything.

He stays in his room most days, curled up by the window with a thick blanket, sadly watching how the snowflakes continue to fall. It hasn’t gotten any lighter, in fact, the snow has only grown thicker. There’s no sight of salvation in sight, no escape from this horrid house. 

Trapped. Doomed. 

It’s early morning for Jungkook, the days having long melded together. It’s cold, toes shivering on the floor as he slips on a fluffy pair of slippers and a thick sweatshirt, creeping down the eerie staircase. He’s beelining toward the kitchen, stomach churning angrily. He didn’t eat yesterday, neglected to answer the door even at Hoseok’s soft calls. He’s not Jungkook’s alpha, not his pack alpha. Nothing to him. 

Please, just leave him alone!

But he has to eat. Maybe he can at least raid the pantry, squirrel a few items of food back to his room so that he can eat alone. 

Jungkook presses his palm to the sturdy wooden door, gently pushing it open. He grimaces despite the lack of the creak, the way it doesn’t break the silence. It still feels invading, like he’s pushing himself into a space he isn’t welcomed into. He doesn’t deserve to use to the same kitchen as the pack. 

Alas, the door opens slowly, revealing the warm glow of the lit open oven, the snug coloured wood that lines the kitchen, the plush cushions lining the chairs. Jungkook takes a slow step in, pupils trembling. For a moment, there’s a gush of relief, but a quick second glance reveals something vital that he somehow managed to overlook. All his muscles utterly lock up when he sees the back of someone. They’re facing the large stove, shoulders shifting as they stir something. The omega’s tongue is too big in his mouth, swallowing back a whimper. He wants to shuffle back, leave, but the person is turning to face them, sensing his presence. 

Seokjin stares at him with no expression, a clean apron tied around his waist, whisk in one hand. 

Jungkook is shuddering in on himself, practically deflating. If he had a tail, it would be tucked firmly in between his legs right now. 

“I’m sorry,” He stammers, “I’m just - I’ll go-”

“Sit.”

“Huh?” Jungkook’s brow creases in confusion, shoulders still shaking. He’s almost in disbelief, knees trembling. What did the alpha just say to him? This alpha, who has been so cold to him?

“Sit.” Seokjin repeats plainly, pointing his whisk at one of the plush bench chairs. “I’d have bought this up to you anyway. It saves me the trip.”

Jungkook wobbles his way over to the kitchen chair, slowly sliding onto the seat. His fingers scrunch into the pillow, eyes nervously watching as the alpha turns back to the stove, plates clanking as he works. 

His eyes have lowered to his jiggling knee, trying to swallow back the nervousness in his throat, the tension in the kitchen at the silence. A plate is placed in front of him gently, Jungkook eyes whipping up, back tensing in preparation. Seokjin doesn’t seem to acknowledge his nervousness, instead placing a tall glass of freshly squeezed juice next to his plate and pressing clean cutlery into his hands. 

Jungkook just blinks, slowly looking down at the plate in front of him. 

It’s a thick, ceramic plate with gorgeous ridges on the side. It’s piled high with scrambled eggs, thick slices of homemade toasted bread, freshly crisp sausages and charred tomatoes. He can even spot some fried mushrooms tucked underneath the tomatoes, a little tub of sauce sitting in a cute white pot. 

He blinks again, looking up at Seokjin with innocent disbelief. Tentativeness. 

The alpha has turned back to the stove, plating up many more dishes. He seems to sense Jungkook’s eyes on him, giving him a little glance over his shoulder. 

“Well? You can eat.” 

The omega takes the permission and tucks in, awkwardly trying to fight his way through the mound of food only armed his knife and fork. Almost an impossible task. It’s so much food, and tastes so delicious - seasoned perfectly, sausages crisp and bread fluffy. Once he starts to eat, Jungkook can’t stop, absolutely burying himself into the plate. 

He notices that as he eats, gulping down the juice hungrily, that Seokjin will slide more food onto his plate. Some more eggs, an extra sausage, a few more tomatoes. He eats as much as he can, sinking back against the chair with his eyes lulling in satisfaction. He’s deliciously full, sated, and still warmed by the oven behind him. 

The alpha by the stove has left momentarily, carrying a heavy tray of plates easily on one arm. He returns moments later with the tray tucked underneath his arm, completely empty, and moves to place it away in a cupboard. Jungkook watches him out of half-closed eyes, swimming in filled bliss. 

There’s a little tutting, a click of the tongue, and there’s a thumb wiping the corner of his mouth. Jungkooks eyes widen, tongue pressed hard against the roof of his mouth as Seokjin wipes the sauce from his thumb onto a napkin. There’s something swirling in his eyes, something Jungkook can’t decipher. 

“Messy.” Seokjin comments, turning away, yet it doesn’t burn in a way a normal insult would. Doesn’t feel like a chastise, a sharp stab of the tongue. As if it’s spoken warmly, fondly, an alpha caring for his pup-

Stop it!

But Jungkook sits there for a while, watching the alpha carefully washing the dishes in the large farm sink. Seokjin doesn’t complain, doesn’t glare at him or attempt to scare him away, just washes quietly, the crackling of the fire filling the air. When he’s finished, Jungkook almost dozing on the kitchen bench, he steps forward, pressing something into the omega’s hand. 

“Run along.” He murmurs, pushing a little hair out of Jungkook’s eyes. With a sleepy hum, he obeys, feet touching the floor and gliding him out of the kitchen. When he’s out in the corridor, walking on autopilot toward his room, he fully feels the item in his wrist. Raises it to his eyes slowly, turning it in his palm. 

It’s a little red lolly, one of the cherry ones he always used to buy from the supermarket when he was younger. 

How did? Why-

He decides not to question it, popping it into his mouth as he quietly closes his bedroom door. 

----

Despite Jungkook’s efforts, Taehyung still doesn’t seem to like him. The omega has gotten into the habit of assisting Taehyung with his usual house chores, swallowing back his surprise that this mansion actually doesn’t have maids. The pack manage everything by themselves and very efficiently. 

But Taehyung really doesn’t seem to enjoy his company. He’ll allow Jungkook to help him hang clothes, sweep and vacuum the corridors and scrub down a few of the many grand bathtubs in the household. But he barely says a word to him, maybe a muttered “thanks” or a little snort in his direction. 

Yet, for some peculiar reason, Jungkook finds himself working hard for Taehyung’s approval. Yoongi and Namjoon seem to like him at least, Yoongi teaching him to read and write at late hours in the night, smiling encouragingly. And he likes to think the pack alpha likes him too, ruffling his hair on occasion and helping him to locate different things in the mansion. 

Seokjin well… he isn’t sure. The alpha hasn’t been cruel to him as of the last few days, maybe even bordering on tolerance. He hasn’t seen the pack’s omega in those few days though, Jimin seemingly avoiding him. And then there’s the mess that is Taehyung.

They’re in the kitchen today, with it being Taehyung’s turn to bake bread. Meaning, it’s a lot of silence, tension thick in the air, Jungkook meekly kneading dough as Taehyung works his own batch of what will become raisin toast. 

They complete the kneading, allowing the dough to rise whilst Jungkook sits awkwardly at one of the kitchen chairs, sipping on a warm cup of tea. He’s long past trying to start conversations with Taehyung. Taehyung is sitting a few feet away from him, reading a book quietly, his own cup of tea slowly steaming.

An hour passes and they knead the dough again, placing it into their respective pans and allowing it to rise for another 30 minutes. Then, it’s into the open flame oven, Jungkook watching, completely thrilled as the pans slide inside. The orange glow of flame reflects in his pupils and warms his face. 

They clean up silently, Jungkook’s eyes following as the pack alpha enters the kitchen, greeting them both kindly. When all the dishes are placed away, Hoseok leaning against the counter with a warm cup of something, Jungkook decides it’s time to take his leave. Slipping silently out of the kitchen door, allowing it to close behind him. 

But there’s something sharp in his gut, warning him to hesitate. So he does, lagging by the door. Taehyung’s voice, crisp with tension and annoyance can be heard, albeit a little muffled. 

“When is he going to leave? I don’t want him here.”

“Taehyung-ah,” Hoseok begins in a low, scolding voice, but Jungkook doesn’t stick around to hear anymore. Slinks back to his room and buries his head under a cushion. If a few tears slip down his cheeks, then it’s only his business. 

Why does Taehyung hate him so?

----

“Jungkook-ah, could you put these away please?” Namjoon asks softly, handing him a short stack of grand-looking plates. Jungkook is all too happy to take it, beaming up at the beta who has his glasses tucked high up his nose, hair still a little ruffled from sleep. Namjoon smiles down at him kindly, pinching his chin affectionately. 

“They go in that dark glass cabinet just down the hall. Will you be alright?”

“Yes.” 

“Just be careful of the rest of the glassware in there, alright? Careful, Jungkook.” 

“Yes.” 

“Good boy.” Namjoon gives him another smile, walking off down in the opposite direction of the corridor, carrying his own stack of plates. They’ve been cleaning all the glassware recently, cabinets and cabinets of expensive glass. Jungkook has actually quite enjoyed it, filled with the tales of their originals from both Namjoon and Yoongi, soap blooming over his hands. 

He waddles down the corridor cutely, eyes locking onto the desired cabinet easily. There’s a place for the stack of plates already, an empty spot among filled shelves. Some of the glass is bright, stained with colours, swirling patterns of olden times. 

Jungkook opens it with careful hands, balancing the plates on one of his hips. He opens the cabinet gently, slowly beginning to stack the plates. The house seems to tremble as the snow continues to howl outside, a cold gust of wind surging down the corridor. Jungkook shivers, freezing in his tracks to grind his teeth together. It’s not normally cold in here, quite the opposite. Kept well warm, fireplaces burning everywhere. That’s a little odd. 

More than a little. 

Jungkook continues to stack the plates with shaking hands, careful to avoid the intricate glassware that sits next to it. The plates are delicate, thin and glass like, perfectly complementing the fine goblets that already sit on the polished shelves. 

Then it’s done, completed, and the omega closes the cabinet carefully, pausing for a moment to simply marvel. Adorn at the millions of dollars worth of glassware, to the pieces that surely they have because of Hoseok’s royal heritage. 

An alpha destined for greatness. 

Jungkook shrugs, the cold breeze still chilling his ankles. He wraps his arms around his waist, shivering into his thin jumper. He thinks it belongs to Seokjin. Maybe, he isn’t sure. The fabric softener has taken away all of the scents. 

He’s loitering, chewing on his bottom lip, buried deep in his thoughts. Of when the snow will stop, when he’ll finally get to leave. Freedom from this house, from the pack that is even chiller than the weather outside. 

“ JUNGKOOK-AH!”

“Huh?” 

Slow motion, the ticking of the clock as his face turns, trying to locate where the scream has come from. Instead, he’s greeted by a shadow, the great creaking of glassware as the cabinet behind him lunges at him, laughing manically. A gasp rips out of his throat, eyes dilating with fear as his knees crumple, throwing him to the floor. 

Oh no. 

Tears in his eyes, arms curled over his head as he braces for the impact. 

And there is impact, but in his fear-frozen mind, he can still identify that it certainly isn’t what he expected to be hit with. The smashing of glass around him, the heaviness of a goblet hitting his head. He can feel shards slicing into his exposed hands, but alas, he grits his teeth and waits for the smash of wood over his head. 

It never comes. 

The cabinet never crashes down on top of him.

Drip. Drip. Something is dripping against his forehead, sliding down his nose.

Jungkook opens his eyes slowly. He’s trembling wildly, still anticipating the crash of a cabinet on top of him. Slowly, slowly, his eyes crack open to meet the smashed glass on the floor. What else they meet though, makes him gasp quietly. Clothed knees right next to him, close enough that they’re brushing his own, a torso attached, stretching upward. 

Drip, drip. 

Jimin’s hands are red. His face is twisted in pain, blood sliding down his wrists, but he refuses to let go of the cabinet. Glass shards have stabbed deep into his flesh, gathered down his knees, and sliced down his wrists. Yet he doesn’t let go, wrists trembling with the strain. 

“Hyung..” Jungkook mumbles, all the blood draining from his face. He thinks he’s going to pass out, hands gripping at Jimin’s top as the older omega’s arms flex. Blood is dribbling steadily down to his elbows, Jimin’s agonized expression deepening as he lets out a low sob. 

Jungkook is frozen, hands gripping at the other omega urgently. He can’t move, can’t speak, every single atom in him vibrating as the nausea curls at his throat. This is his, his fault, his-

“ ALPHA! ”  Comes another scream, ear-piercing and drenched in panic, urgent footsteps racing toward them. 

Beta, Taehyung. Taehyung is there, grunting as he tries to heave the cabinet up. It’s going up slowly, both of the beta’s hands played against the top of it, knees bent and back strained. Jimin’s hands are coming away, completely red, oozing, and dripping. The omega is shaking like a leaf, pale in shock as his hands come trembling down, held in front of his eyes in horror. There’s blood running down Taehyung’s wrists now and Jungkook lets out a sob, eyes scrunching up. 

“You’re getting- getting hurt, hyung, hyung, hyung-” 

His ears are ringing, face growing paler and paler and-

The cabinet is heaved up so quickly, torn from Taehyung’s hands with alpha strength. Hoseok grunts, practically throwing the cabinet off of them, face contorted in fury. 

“Hyung, hyung,” Jungkook chants, clutching at Jimin’s wrists. The omega is staring at him, eyes wide, face pale. 

“Alpha,” Taehyung sobs, glass crunching under foot, “It fell, fell, fell-” 

“My babies,” Seokjin is crying, dropping to his knees next to the omegas and grabbing at them urgently. Jungkook stares at him blankly, a tear sliding from the side of his eye. Seokjin catches it with a thumb, hushing him as he starts to examine Jimin’s hands, Jungkook tucked under one of his arms. 

“Med kit!” Hoseok snarls at an appearing Namjoon, Yoongi right on his tail, eyes wide as he takes in the scene. The pack alpha is crowding them, tipping their faces up and scanning the cuts on their lips. Gauze is pressed to Jimin’s bloody hands, the omega finally starting to cry as the blood begins to lessen. 

“How the fuck did this happen?” Yoongi is demanding, pressing a wad of something to Taehyung’s hands as he looks from Jungkook to Jimin urgently. Seokjin is wiping a cut of Jungkook’s head, Jimin’s nose pressed against his throat as Hoseok dabs at his hands, cursing loudly. 

Then, Jimin is being scooped up, crying into the pack alpha’s neck as Hoseok scents him roughly. Before Jungkook knows it, he’s scooped up to, nose pressed to Seokjin’s scent gland. It smells so strong, so warm, and comforting. He can’t bring himself to restrain his senses, nuzzling into his throat with a loud cry. 

They’re moving, carried at a quick pace, a door opening, and the room smells so richly like Jimin. Soothing and milky. Bed sheets are hitting his bare skin, much softer than the ones of his bed, walls of clothing pressed to his sides. He’s barely coherent, trembling all over, hands stretching out to find the older omega again. 

“Tweezers!” Namjoon is bustling into the room, easing the gauze off of Jimin’s hands so they can begin removing the glass shards from his skin. The omega is crying, crying out in pain, face buried into Taehyung's throat, Yoongi’s hand in Jungkook’s hair, trying to soothe him-

It’s all too much. 

It fades away in an instant, covered in a veil of black. 

----

When Jungkook wakes next, his eyes hurt horribly. His entire body feels heavy like he’s just slept for a day, mind clouded and shoulders weak. He can’t be bothered to raise himself off of whatever comfortable surface he’s resting on. But he hears a little gasp, small hands stroking through his hair as someone calls out. 

More hands. 

“Hi, hi.” 

Yoongi. 

“Are you okay?” The beta asks urgently, tipping his face up a little. Jungkook whines, trying to burrow back into the warmth next to him. He hears a warning hiss and Yoongi’s hands are gone from him, leaving him to press his face back into the soothing milkiness and close his eyes again. 

He’s asleep in moments. 

----

Jungkook swallows thickly before he steps out of Jimin’s ensuite bathroom, drawing tight in on himself. He found out, the next time he woke, that he was actually in Jimin’s nest. 

And oh, what a sin that was. He’s surprised the older omega hasn’t bitten his head off yet, shoved him out of the bed. Actually, Jimin has been really silent, either asleep or simply curled in his blankets, nose pressed into them firmly. The rest of the pack has been bustling around them, feeding them and changing the bandages on their hands. 

Jimin’s bandages around his hands are so thick that they’re almost unrecognizable. Luckily though, Taehyung’s hands have pretty much healed, and so has the cut on Jungkook’s forehead. 

But the guilt is suffocating. 

He steps back into the bedroom, trying to make himself as small as possible. Being out of the nest, out of the place that his body now sees as safe has violently tremors riding through his knees. Ice cold panic down his spine, a simple feeling of wrong. 

He doesn’t want to ask, doesn’t want to appear weak, but he’s sure if he goes back to his room like this, that he’ll simply crumble. 

“Jimin-ssi,” He murmurs, grimacing as his voice rings out through the room. Jimin looks up at him quietly, blanket pressed to his face. 

“Do you think…” He hesitates for a moment, “Do you think I could borrow one of your… blankets? I don’t- I don’t want to go back to my room alone.” 

It’s cold there. It doesn’t smell of Jimin. 

There’s pure silence and Jungkook’s eyes start to burn with tears. Of course, he should have expected it. He’s about to sniffle, wipe a hand over his eyes, and rush from the room, when someone clears their throat. His head whips up, eyes sparkling as his nose wrinkles. His eyes scan the scene before him, widening in shock. 

Jimin isn’t looking at him, but he’s holding his hand out. And slowly, slowly, Jungkook steps forward to take it in his own. Feeling bandages against his palm.

Jimin guides him back into the nest quietly, tucking him in and dragging a blanket up to his nose. Milky. Calming. Jungkook’s eyes roll into the back of his head, melting as he sinks into the nest’s embrace. 

“-here as long as you want.” Jimin whispers, nestling a little closer. It’s silent, but not awkward. None of that electric tension, no nervousness in his chest. 

Jungkook thinks he imagines it later, waking late in the night after a visit from the alphas, after eating dinner. Waking in pure darkness to find himself curled around Jimin’s back, the omega’s hand tight around Jungkook’s arm laced over his chest, pressed back tightly against him. 

No, that surely was a dream. 

----

Jungkook’s chest hurts. Agonizing pain in his heart as he stares quietly out of his bedroom window, watching how the snowflakes slowly lessen. 

It’s going to ease off in the next few days, Namjoon had told in a soft voice at breakfast. 

That means Jungkook has to leave. Go home to his empty, cold apartment and go on with his life. Pretending as though he never met this pack, never met his intended. 

Never saw what could have been. 

And just after things were getting nicer too. Jimin allowing him to take a blanket when he eventually left his room, and Taehyung helping him quietly one night with his writing practice. He had been afraid that the beta would mock him, and laugh at his handwriting, but instead, Taehyung had sat with him quietly in the writing room and helped him to properly draw his letters. 

But he has to go home. The sun is starting to peak out of dark clouds, and as Jungkook pulls on a thick pair of boots, he decides. 

He’s going to go hunting one last time. Definitely get a deer this time, something to show gratitude to this pack. And he’s not going to shoot himself in the arm or the foot this time. Everything is going to go perfectly!

“I’m going out hunting again,” Jungkook says quietly from the living room doorway, already dressed in a thick coat and with gloves this time. Yoongi’s head jerks up from where he’s dozing on the couch, Seokjin curled to his side, the alpha’s face pressed against his throat. 

“Are you sure?” The beta looks as if he wants to spring from the couch, undress Jungkook out of his winter jacket himself and smother him onto the couch.

“I’m sure,” Jungkook says confidently, pulling his glove a little more down his wrist, “I’ll be careful, I promise.” 

Yoongi looks like he wants to object, eyes flittering toward the corridor as if he’s searching for another pack member to deter him. He gives a heavy sigh and shoots him a strained smile. 

“Be safe, okay?” 

Jungkook nods, turning and wobbling his way down the corridor toward the familiar hunting room. He carefully lowers the cross bow down from the wall, ensuring the safety is on and the arrows are in the holster. He’s then pushing open the stable door carefully, closing it behind himself. His boots sink a little into the snow, but it’s much less deep than it was a few days ago. 

He’s really going to have to leave soon. 

His heart sinks a little more. 

Jungkook treks deeper and deeper into the forest, fighting to keep his confidence high in his chest. It’s less intimidating than last time, the trees seeming lighter and less menacing, his steps easier. An hour later, with fingers still snug in his gloves, Jungkook has managed to secure a small deer and three squirrels. 

He has a wide smile on his face as he starts to hobble back in the direction of the house, proudly lugging his kill after him. That’s enough to feed the entire household! The alphas, Jimin are going to be so proud of him. Surely, it will impress the betas as well! 

A lovely way to go. 

Even saying that makes his eyes sting, but he pushes on. 

Trapped in his joyous thoughts, his pride shining like a badge on his chest, Jungkook fails to notice how the forest’s mood has shifted. 

The trees are wailing, hands over their mouths as their hips sway, trying to cry out warnings to him. Mice scuttle into their dens underground, squirrels retreating high into the trees, shrieking. The shadows are lengthening, a heavy feeling of doom settling over the snow. 

It’s deeper, Jungkook’s moving slowly, nose pink with cold. 

The bright smile on his face freezes when a large shadow falls in the snow in front of him, easily swallowing him. The smile drips away as his eyes unfocus, deer falling from it’s place on his shoulders, squirrels plopping heavily into the snow. He’s trembling, mouth opening in silent horror, eyes gleaming with tears. 

A bone-chilling roar echoes throughout the forest, sending birds flying up in every direction, echoing out to even the farthest lake. 

Somewhere in the pack house, Taehyung’s ears prick, eyes shooting to the window in worry. 

No, he must have just imagined it. 

He returns to his book.

Chapter Text

Yoongi stands by the front door, staring out into the snow with a deep crease in his forehead. His eyes have been scanning back and forth for at least fifteen minutes, fingers lingering on a thick coat on the coat stand. Ready to run out into heavy snow, fight his way through the maze of countryside. 

Jungkook has been gone for three hours. 

That length of time is worrying. 

Yoongi chews on his bottom lips, eyes shooting to the shoe rack to try and locate some thick snow shoes. Maybe he should get one of the crossbows as well? Although, he can’t really use them, used to tracking prey instead. But dusk is lingering over the top of the trees, night settling over the house and the beta is worried. 

Something must have happened. 

“Yoongi?” 

Hoseok’s fingers slide around his waist, pulling him into a soothing side hug. Yoongi leans into him, his bottom lip being firmly chewed as his eyes remain locked onto the white horizon. He’s more than worried now, anxious even. He’d already been tentative at letting the omega leave alone again, after that sharp sting of blood last time, but he understood that he technically couldn’t demand Jungkook not. 

Now, Yoongi wishes he had. 

“He’s been gone for too long,” He whispers in a hoarse tone, eyes starting to grow damp against his will, “Too long alpha, I’m worried, I’m-” 

Hoseok’s fingers are coming up to smooth through his hair, hushing the beta. He tugs Yoongi’s bottom lip from his teeth gently, pressing their mouths together chastely. 

“He’s fine. Jungkook’s a strong one. Go to bed, beta.” 

And whilst Yoongi lingers, fingers curling and uncertainty dredging in his chest, he obeys, climbing the staircase slowly and tracking off to their master bedroom. 

Hoseok, however, lingers by the door, his fingers brushing over the doorknob. His eyes scan over the now dark horizon, flickering to the empty staircase and then back out to the snow again. He murmurs under his breath. 

The front door slams, quiet settling over the house. 

The scream that tears from Jungkook’s mouth is one he’s never heard before. The sort of sound he has never phantom in his wildest dreams that he would have to make. Never thought he had it in him. That kind of exaggerated film you always see in horror movies. 

Harrowing, a scream of pure terror, every ounce of blood draining from his face. It’s a painful cry, one that rings down every inch of his throat, scraping at his flesh as he stumbles backward, falling into the snow. 

The deer, his prideful catch is long forgotten, fallen into the snow, draining red. Glazed dead eyes staring up at him, calling out to him in terror. Warning him that if he doesn’t move, doesn’t run, then he’ll end up just like them. 

Jungkook stutters, eyes widening even more as his whole body shakes, a frightened yelp falling out of his mouth. 

In front of him, huge and looming, with claws like hooks and eyes as black as death itself, the massive bear roars. It’s so much bigger than him, brown and menacing, sharp scars running through its torn fur. Why is a bear even awake? Surely, it would be hibernating? Why is it-

The bear roars again, a bellow that shakes every single tree around him, leaves falling to the floor. 

Jungkook runs. 

He scarcely remembers grabbing the crossbow from its fallen position, a single arrow already locked into it. He stumbles, almost falling again as he continues to run, desperate panicked puffs of air trailing from his mouth as he sprints through the snow. Snowflakes have started to fall again, drifting around him in a storm. 

The thing, the monstrous bear lumbers behind him, growling somewhere deep in his chest. Jungkook can barely see, blinded as he runs. Another scream rips from his throat, eyes blazing with tears as he trips around a tree. It’s simply a dark haze of white, a neverending sequence of the same picture. 

It’s faster than him, gaining steadily. 

Jungkook doesn’t know where he’s going, where he’s dashing to, but his mind is a screeching mess of despair. Urging him to run back to the pack, back to the alpha who will protect him, but it isn’t his alpha, and doing so will lead this beast back to the pack house. 

His breath is simple rasps of air clouding before him, every muscle pumping in anticipation. But every step he takes is another push, every direction is one unknown - yet all are leading him to the destination. 

His demise. 

Jungkook is going to die. 

He can’t beat a bear, not with his small omegan stature, not with his one flimsy arrow in his crossbow. There’s no one coming for him, nobody to save him. He’s alone out here. The snow is going to bleed red with his blood. 

The bear is charging at him, barreling into him at a speed that sends him flying. Jungkook’s back smashed into something hard, something stone, an abrupt cry of pain filling the air. He’s dazed for a moment, stars dancing in front of his eyes as he tries to blindly pull himself to his feet. The crossbow somehow is still clinging in his hands. 

The stone he crashed into, he finds a moment later, is a tall, grey pillar. A beautiful set of architecture, and in a blind flash of panic, he can see that there is a corridor of them dancing down in a line, shadowing a pretty, frozen fountain in the middle. Like something from Rome. 

Jungkook doesn’t have time to fucking admire. He’s stumbling in between pillars, crying out desperately as the bear roars behind him, large claws slicing into stone. Whips of hair in his eyes as he looks over his shoulder, running, running, and he doesn’t realize it’s too late before his foot slips, sending him sprawling into the snow. Cold in his mouth, in his eyes, in his heart.

His ankle is throbbing red. Yet, the omega pulls himself to his feet again with another sob, spinning around and trying to raise his crossbow-

Pain, blooming in his chest. He’s flying backward, smashing into the snow with a breathless gasp. His entire torso is on fire, dripping with agony. A press of a palm to it comes away sticky, oozing maroon that drips into the snow around him. 

Jungkook is crying, crying frantically, kicking himself backward in the snow as blood trickles from his mouth. The bear is coming toward him slowly, drool dripping from it’s lips as its huge feet sink deep into the snow. No, no, no, no, no, no, this can’t be happening!

The crossbow comes up in a last, feeble attempt, the arrow burrowing itself into the bear’s shoulder. Yet, the animal doesn’t even seem to notice, doesn’t even falter, roaring again as it begins to run forward. 

Jungkook howls, closing his eyes tightly and covering his face with his hands. 

This is it. 

It all ends here. 

Hoseok zips his thick coat up quickly, gripping boots already tight on his feet and gloves on his hands. He’s heaving the biggest crossbow down from the wall, eyes flicking to the empty space of one of the small ones. Meant for hunting small game. The one that his omega has. He’s shoving arrows into a holster in haste, big, thick ones intended for subduing a large target. Wolves, bears-

Hoseok freezes, an arrow falling from his loose fingertips. 

No. no. What if Jungkook-

The door to the hunting room swings open suddenly, a growl slipping from Hoseok’s mouth as he swings around. He’s ready to leave, armed to the teeth with arrows and a sharp hunting knife tucked into his belt. He doesn’t have time to force another pack member to bed, especially not another beta. One of them wanting to come out with him isn’t an option he’s willing to entertain. Not at night, not with one omega already missing. 

Standing in the doorway, already bundled up in a coat and knitted scarf is a small omega. He strides over to the wall, easily tugging one of the small crossbows down and heaving a holster of arrows over his shoulder. 

“Come on. Let’s go.” 

“Jimin,” Hoseok says, tone holding dangerous warning, “Go back inside.” 

The omega spins to look at him, a harsh fire burning in his eyes. Jimin has always been defiant, protective in the best way but unruly stubborn. He points an accusing finger at the pack alpha, spitting - “It’s my fault he’s out there. Mine. If anyone is going with you, it’s me. ”

“It’s not just your fault, sweetheart,” Hoseok murmurs, moving closer to cup his cheek, “It’s a collective. We haven’t done a very good job of being welcoming. And I understand why, but you haven’t been very kind.” 

Jimin’s face crumples a little, bottom lip trembling. 

“I know. That’s why I’m going out with you.” 

“Jimin-”

“ No. You don’t get to stop me. If you’re going out, I’m going out. If you’re not, I’m still going. If you make me go back inside, I’m coming to follow you. Alone.” 

Hoseok sighs, pinching his cheeks with a strained smile. “Such a stubborn thing, aren’t you?” 

Jimin lets out a strained little giggle, striding past him to push open the stable door. He sinks ankle-deep in snow, nose wrinkling. Hoseok follows him, closing the door behind him. They disappear into the sea of snowflakes, the house almost immediately lost from view. 

Jungkook allows one last cry to part from his mouth, frosting into the cold air around him. His eyes are screwed up so tight that it hurts, his chest blazing in a merry forest fire, arms curling over his head as he waits for the end.

Maybe it’s better this way. All roads led to here, led to death in the snow. It’ll be better for everyone if Jungkook would just… cease to exist. He’s not afraid, okay, that’s a lie, he is, quite a lot actually. He just hopes it’s not too painful, that everything ends quickly. 

The air ripples in front of him, a paw rising into the air with talons gleaming, and Jungkook tenses, whimpering a little in anticipation and-

HISS. 

Thump. 

The bear lets out an ear-piercing roar, snow flying as it frantically stumbles backward. Jungkook lets out a shuddering breath, eyes slowly cracking open, hands still curled over his head. There’s an arrow directly in the bear's temple, not deep enough to pierce anything important - the bear’s flesh is too thick - but enough that it must hurt. 

“JUNGKOOK-AH!” 

A familiar scream. One of a corridor, of falling glass, of hands willing to bleed for him, and could it be? Could it be-

Jimin crashes to his knees in the snow next to him, trembling hands hastily nocking another arrow into his crossbow as the bear bellows furiously. He shoots, arrow burying itself into one of the bear’s neck folds, the beast throwing itself about angrily. The omega is crawling in front of him, trying to load another bow, but his hands are shaking wildly. Jungkook reaches for him weakly, murmuring his name with tears in his eyes. He shudders as the bear finishes thrashing, charging toward them with pure fury in its eyes, jaws open in a blood-curdling snarl. 

Jimin can’t load the arrow, swearing loudly as his fingers shake and Jungkook screams out again-

The bear howls angrily, sending a wave of snow barreling over the ground as it thrashes. Jimin yelps, bow dropping from his hands as he blindly lunges backward, curling over the top of Jungkook as the snow falls around them. They’re coughing, spluttering, Jimin cursing and pressing a hand to his wet chest, trying to stop the blood flow. 

Jungkook can’t focus, vision blurring. But what he can see, is that there’s a much bigger arrow plunged into the bear's side. Black in colour and long in length. And when he turns his head just a little, he can see a familiar figure bursting past one of the pillars, huge crossbow in hand. 

“Jimin!” Hoseok commands, loading another arrow as the bear spins toward him, “Get him out of here!” 

There’s snow everywhere, unforgivingly cold as Jimin is hauling him up, arms tensing with the strain as he manages to awkwardly swing Jungkook over his shoulders. 

“Come on,” He’s muttering, “Come on, omega. You can do this.” Jungkook isn’t sure whether he’s talking to himself, or trying to comfort Jungkook. But they’re moving through the snow, crossbows abandoned as they struggle along. Jungkook's chest is growing slowly, rasping wheezes leaving his mouth as Jimin pants, the snow turning red underneath them. 

“Come on, stay awake for me, Jungkook.” Jimin pleads as they stumble a few more steps. Why is the other omega crying? His face is crumbling, gasping for air. Weakly, Jungkook raises a hand to wipe a tear from his cheek. It leaves a bloody smear. His vision collapses. 

He hears a loud bang, a terrifying scream of “HYUNGS!” and then everything is fading from his touch. 

Desperate voices, words that he can’t understand, soft hands carrying him. The strong scent of mingled pack fills his nose, hands pulling at his shirt and-

Jungkook can’t remember anything else. He can’t remember letting go either, everything is just…. 

Black. 

----

“He’s waking up, he’s waking up-” The violent sound of shuffling as if someone has fallen off of their chair, and soft hands are grasping at his own. Jungkook peels his eyes open slowly, grimacing as his head throbs. It feels as though someone has dropped an iron anvil on his head, throbbing at the forefront of his temple. Everything just foggy, a little tipped to the right.

“Hi, hi,” Jungkook’s head turns a little, slow and sluggish, eyes focusing on the hands cupping his own. Yoongi. The beta grips his hands a little tighter, giving him a watery smile. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Tired.” Jungkook croaks, closing his eyes again as rippling pain spikes down his chest. He raises a slow hand to brush over his chest, fingertips meeting layers of rough. Bandages? His chest hurts, it’s a little hard to breathe. 

“I’d like to go back to sleep, please.” 

“That’s fine,” Yoongi whispers, brushing some hair out of his forehead, “Maybe you can try to eat something later, hmm?” 

He doesn’t even hear the beta finish his sentence, already drifting back into unconsciousness. 

----

Jungkook’s mouth tightens as he lies loosely on the bed. It’s almost a grimace, a tight line of his lips as he lies still, allowing the omega behind him to braid his hair softly. The pack has been unusually nice to him since he woke three days ago. Taehyung coming in to read to him, Seokjin helping him to dress and feeding him, and Jimin casually braiding and playing with his hair. It’s unusually, an eerie feeling of unsettling sitting deep in his bones. 

Why are they suddenly like this? Acting as if they care? As if Jungkook is something to them?

Jimin hums as he slowly ties off a small braid with an elastic hair band, using his fingers to stroke softly over his forehead. Jungkook’s eyes flutter closed against his will. He’s always wanted this - the closeness of an omegan bond, the tight relationship that it’s well known for nesting omegas to form. 

But this just doesn’t feel right. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

“Huh?” Jimin makes a concerned move, moving to brush over his forehead again. A sharp stab of frustration grates through Jungkook’s chest and he awkwardly pushes himself up from the bed. His chest aches something horrible and Jimin makes a concerned move, reaching for him. But Jungkook turns to him with a fire burning in his eyes, fingers curling into fists. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

“What? I don’t understand-” 

“Why are you being- being nice to me?” Jungkook spits angrily, hackles rising, “You’ve- all this time, you’ve made it very clear that you don’t like me. That I’m not welcome here,” His eyes are growing hot, tears beading on his lashline as all the hurt bursts out from deep within him, “And now you’re acting like I’m special? What gives you the right? I know I’m intruding, and I know my scent is horrible, and I’m a pathetic excuse for an omega-” 

“What, no!” Jimin gasps, but Jungkook doesn’t stop, continuing- 

“And it would be so much easier for me to just disappear so why, why are you acting like this now? You’ve never cared before! And suddenly you’re sweet, too sweet, and I just don’t understand. I know you hate me, I know it, and I can understand why, but, but-” 

His voice cuts out as his eyes widen. Jimin has slammed a hand over his nose, chest rattling with untaken breaths as he practically falls off the bed, dashing for the door. Jungkook stares after him in shock, the door slamming open and the older omega racing out into the corridor. It’s a messy blur of sound, of people moving, and someone is there, hand on his forehead, urging him back to lie down. 

Jimin wails from somewhere deeper in the house, and it’s heartbreaking. Like an animal in agony, someone dying, pain unimaginable on earth. Guilt is spiraling in Jungkook’s chest and he lets out his own little sob, reaching up to grip onto the person’s wrist-

“I didn’t mean to upset him-” He starts to babble, the tears flowing freely now and-

“Shh,” Hoseok soothes, stroking his cheek, “It has nothing, nothing to do with you, sweet thing. You haven’t done anything wrong. I promise. It’s Jimin’s issue, not yours.”

Jungkook blinks at him from teary eyes, sobbing lowly. 

“It’s not your fault,” Hoseok says determinedly, caressing the back of one of his hands, “You haven’t done anything wrong. Shall I read to you? Start that next chapter of that book you like-” 

----

It’s far into the night, Jungkook lying silent in the bed. The curtains to the large window next to him are open, bathing him in a light moonlight glow. The omega sighs, blinking sadly. The snow has stopped long ago, melting away from the land. It’s time to leave, isn’t it? They haven’t asked him to yet out of politeness. No matter how nice they are being now, it’s surely just out of pity. 

Jungkook can walk, his chest slowly knitting itself back together, and it doesn’t hurt to breathe anymore. So why is he still here? Trapped in this pack house? It’s definitely time to leave. And if they won’t make Jungkook, then the omega will just do it himself. 

Jungkook pushes himself up from the bed, bare feet quietly hitting the floor. He isn’t entirely sure what room he is in, not the room he’s been staying in for the past few weeks - it’s one much deeper in the web of nest. Jungkook walks through the darkened corridor silently, fingers trailing over the walls as he searches for the staircase. 

There’s a heavy feeling of regret in his chest, stomach churning violently. He doesn’t want to leave, doesn’t want to be alone again. It’s suffocating, really, to think about being by himself again. No matter how cold some of the pack has been, he’s really settled in here. Pathetic, he knows. 

The darkened staircase looms in front of Jungkook and he breathes out in relief. The carpet is soothing in between his bare toes, him tightly gripping onto the banister as he steps down the step one at a time. Slowly, almost like a child.

And then there’s the front door. Huge, mocking over him. Almost threatening him, ordering him to back away and retreat. Jungkook doesn’t though. Just swallows, reaching for his long-forgotten boots shoved somewhere on the shoe rack. They’re a little squashed, but fit just fine, Jungkook tying up the laces. The doorknob is cold in his hand, air chilling as he opens the front door. 

Quiet night outside. 

He sucks in a deep, trembling breath and steps outside. The front door seems to be crying now, almost begging him to come back in. Telling him not to leave. But he must. He’s overstayed his welcome, made people uncomfortable. 

Jungkook takes a step over step, one after the other, heart plummeting lower and lower. Like his muscles are locking up, freezing in an attempt to make him stop. Make him freeze. He shakes his head violently, fingers curling into fists as he takes another step. He’s made it to a set of grey stairs, so close to hitting the driveway, to beginning the long walk home. He’s choked up with tears, eyes vibrating with tears as he bites back a sob. 

He doesn’t want to leave, just wants to belong, just wants to-

Fingers are bruising his elbow so harshly that Jungkook almost falls backward, whirled around in a shock. There’s someone there, eyes blown wide with fear, hands clutching tightly at his arms. Taehyung is panting, reaching up to cup his face in panic, twisting it side to side. 

“I smelt you leave! Why, why are you out here? Dressed like this?!-” 

His voice cuts out as his hands slip from Jungkook’s arms, a new grip fastening on him as he’s hauled upward. Jungkook squeaks, his own hands flying out to try and get a grip, meeting warm muscle. He’s being carried easily, hands under his thighs, head resting on someone’s shoulders. And he can’t help but nuzzle into the alpha’s chest, sniffling a little in relief. Seokjin noses into his hair harshly, bringing him back to the house with determined strides, Taehyung hurrying on his heels. 

The scent of pack is so overwhelming that it brings Jungkook to instant tears, sobbing into the alpha’s bare chest. There’s a mess of words, of worried voices, a few hands smoothing down his back and-

“I’ll take him for tonight,” Yoongi murmurs, gently taking Jungkook from Seokjin’s arms. The alpha seems reluctant to let go, the omega obviously feeling the exact same way, yet he relents, snuggling into Yoongi’s throat. There are still upset, spiked scents and soft words from every angle, Yoongi assuring his packmates that everything will be fine. To all go to bed. 

Jungkook is being placed on a new bed, one that smells so strongly of beta. His eyes are still watering, sniffling as he begins to cry again. He only got out so far, and being back in here feels so right, relief settling deep in his bones. But he’s not supposed to be here! He’s not, he’s not-

“I’ll leave, it’s okay,” He croaks, trying to push himself up from the bed. A sharp growl fills the room, Yoongi pinning him to the bed with strength. Jungkook stills in shock, staring up at the beta. 

“You’re not going anywhere.” 

The tears are falling. 

“I don’t want to be a burden anymore! Please, let me leave, let me-” 

“No.” But Yoongi’s eyes have softened in the darkness, hand coming to cup his cheek, “You’re allowed to leave. Allowed to choose to leave. But not now. Not in the middle of the night when it’s cold. When you’re upset. You’re just a pup, my pup. Stay here with me. Just for a while.” 

Jungkook lets out a little sob, chest hiccuping as he stretches out his arms to fasten tightly around the beta’s neck. It’s a muddle of cuddling, of Yoongi squashing him into the mattress and nipping at his scent gland tenderly, warm blankets and petting hands. 

Then, it’s calm again. 

Jungkooks eyes lull closed as Yoongi combs through his hair. It’s calming, soothing, the beta lying next to him, Jungkook curled up on his chest. He feels like a pup, a pup someone cares for, loved, and wanted in the pack. 

He shouldn’t think that, he shouldn’t-

“I wanted to,” Yoongi begins softly, stroking his hair, “Explain a little. Not make excuses, no, of course not, but explain the reasons behind my packmate's harsh behaviour. It has nothing to do with you, sweet thing. Nothing, I promise. But I thought you deserve an explanation.” 

Jungkook hums, relaxing into him as Yoongi pets his back. Jungkook definitely does deserve an explanation. He can’t really imagine a reason that he would deem acceptable for their cruel treatment of them, but he’s willing to listen either way. The beta waits to hear a question, a negative reaction, but when he doesn’t receive one, he starts in a low voice. 

“My pack members haven’t had the best experience with intended. It’s the concept, sweet thing, the profile in which you fit under. And that’s not your fault. Taehyung, our sweet Taehyungie, he well… he was actually with his intended mate for a few years before he met us. And it was nice, lovely as he would say. Like the fairytale, he was already told of. But a few years into it, it went sour. His mate started being cruel to him, nothing life-threatening, but still abuse. Verbally abusive, controlling. My beta got his fair share of slaps as well, normally on his face. He wanted to stay, stayed because it was his intended, they were meant to be but…. It was cruel. Then, he met Hoseok, met us, and we managed to get him out of that relationship. But that was just one instance, right? Surely, our trust in intended wouldn’t be like this after just that one time.” 

Jungkook hums in understanding, biting his bottom lip. He can kind of understand now, now that he’s been told a little, why they’ve acted in such a way. Of course, Jungkook might have been abandoned by his father, but he’s never suffered abuse at the hands of someone supposed to love him. But he can fathom, or really can’t, how that would feel. The lack of trust in these so-called intended. Someone made for you, they say. How do you feel when they turn out to be horrific though? Surely, nobody deserves that! 

Yoongi sighs heavily, scratching his scalp gently. Jungkook keens into the touch, listening to the rise and fall of the beta’s breath. It’s almost like the next words pain him. 

“And then there’s Jimin. Our Jiminie. A sweet babe, but stubborn as a mule. We had been in that dance of love and mating for around a year when it happened.” 

Jungkook holds his breath, listening to how Yoongi swallows. 

“Jimin’s intended showed his face. And he was far, far worst. He tried to get Jimin away from the pack house you see, we had yet to mate him. He had only been with us for those few twelve months, not yet an official member of our pack. His mate was desperate, manipulative, tried to coax Jimin away from us under the guise of being destined. That he was better for Jimin. And our omega believed him, confused and trying to believe in fate. We let him make his choice. And eventually, he chose us over his intended, seeking us as a better decision. He loved us, you see, but it was difficult to put his foot down. He went to meet his destined, went to tell him that he had made his decision and wasn’t going to allow destiny to take him away from us. He was furious. Screaming at Jimin, throwing things, threatening to lock Jimin up, and never let him leave. He tried to kill him. Seokjin walked in to see Jiminie on the floor, face turning blue as the claws around his throat tightened. It was very traumatic. For all of us, but most of all Jimin. I think you can imagine how it was afterward.”

Jungkook can scarcely hold back his gasp of horror, mind ticking back to all the memories he has of the pack omega. Small, flinching away from hands, a harsh stubborn tongue but never physically warding. And then smaller things, like the way Jimin’s nose would wrinkle after a harsh word, the quickness of his steps when he hurried away. As if Jungkook’s distress, the spike in his scent triggered- 

“Every time you smell distressed, that lovely scent of omega spikes, Jimin gets taken back. Back to that floor with hands around his throat, drifting onto the cusp of death. It’s not your fault, sweet one, please don’t cry. You haven’t done anything wrong, anything. It’s just the past, and it can’t hurt us anymore. But that absolutely destroyed our faith in intended. Two instances, two different mates, just the same. Cruel and abusive.” 

Yoongi sighs again, allowing his head to plop back heavily onto the headboard. Jungkook looks up at him out of damp eyes, sympathy swirling in his chest. Of course, he had anticipated that this pack must have had their reasons, but this? This is much worse than anything he could have imagined. Jimin almost died. Was on the cusp of it in fact. 

“They were trying to protect the pack, I think,” the beta murmurs softly, thoughtfully, “Afraid that it would follow the same pattern. That another intended just meant another hand to strike, another danger. Not necessarily to the pack dynamic, but more in the people themselves. It was your title, your link to me that scared them, shook them to the core.”

A moment of silence, for the words to sink in. They hang heavy in the air. 

“You’re not the same as them, we know that now..” Yoongi soothes, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, “And maybe it’s a bit too late to realize that. In our so defense of our packmates, we ended up hurting you, an innocent party in all of this. And I think I can speak for my mates when I say we won’t even stop apologizing. It wasn’t fair, wasn’t right. Maybe one day you’ll find it in yourself to forgive us.” 

Jungkook burrows into his chest and cries his little heart out.

----

Jungkook curls his hand into the duvet underneath him, swallowing thickly as he dares to raise his eyes. Jimin is perched on the very end of the bed, as far away from him as possible. Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok stand by the doorway quietly, Taehyung loitering by Jimin’s side and Seokjin standing by Jungkook’s bedside table. It’s awkward, tension thick, and Jungkook isn’t sure why the pack has gathered like this, and for him, but-

“We wanted to.. Apologize. Wholeheartedly.” Hoseok begins from the doorway, looking at the rest of the pack carefully, “We haven’t treated you very fairly, and it’s no fault of your own. I apologize I didn’t try and get the rest of my pack to treat you nicer, that wasn’t very… pack alpha of me.” 

“And I’m sorry that I got you into this mess,” Yoongi whispers, eyes staring at the floor, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

“And I should’ve tried harder to make sure everyone was at least tolerant of you,” Namjoon finishes, biting at his bottom lip. Jungkook gives them a shaky smile, fingers curling tighter. He’s a bit shocked, really, didn’t expect the pack alpha and the beta to apologize. He isn’t entirely sure for what, but he appreciates it either way. 

“I want to apologize as well,” Seokjin says gently, causing Jungkook to turn a little to look at him. The alpha has an earnest look on his face, clutching his shirt delicately, “I haven’t been a very nice person. Haven’t lived up to my rank as an alpha, and that wasn’t fair to you. None of this was your fault, it has nothing to do with you as a person, just the… concept in which you fit under. But it was unfair to treat you poorly because of that. I shouldn’t have assumed who you would be based on the ropes of destiny. I’m truly sorry.” 

Jungkook nods gratefully, turning a little as Taehyung starts to speak. His voice shakes a little, avoiding eye contact with Jungkook. 

“I’m sorry too,” he says, voice trembling, “I shouldn’t have assumed who you were. Just because you were an intended mate. It wasn’t your fault, none of it, and the fact that you got trapped here was unseeable. And this entire time I’ve treated you quite… shittily.” He gives a rough laugh, shrinking in on himself, “I’ve had a rough past with intended, as I’m sure you know, and that’s not an excuse but… I should’ve tried to be civil with you at the very least. That wasn’t fair and I’m-” his voice breaks, “I’m truly, truly sorry for that.” 

There’s a moment of silence, an expected waiting as all eyes turn to the little omega perched on the end of the bed. Jimin doesn’t shudder under the attention but doesn’t raise his head either. As though he’s aware of his fate, acceptant on it. There’s a harsh spike of pain through Jungkook’s chest. 

“I’m sorry.” It’s as if he has nothing more to say, stumbling over finding the right words. “You’re a wonderful omega, a wonderful person as I’ve grown to see. You’re truly lovely. And my treatment of you was no fault of your own. It was my fucked up brain. And I’ll never stop apologizing for that. I hope you’ll be able to forgive me someday or at least be able to look me in the eyes without disgust. I’m sorry I did that to you.” 

There’s a sinking feeling in Jungkook’s chest, an urge to comfort the omega as his scent spikes unhappily. It hurt, it truly did, their treatment of them, and without knowing why. But now he does, knows their horrid pasts, the hands tight around Taehyung and Jimin’s throats and it’s-

It’s horrible, really. He can understand it now. It hurts, it truly does, and it wasn’t acceptable behaviour but…

“I can understand why,” Jungkook begins, voice thick and teary, “I truly can. And I’m sorry you went through that in your past. I can emphasize to the best of my abilities, understand your actions. But that still doesn’t mean it was okay. It hurt, it really did and I-” 

His voice breaks as he begins to cry.

“I didn’t want to ruin anything, I just wanted to belong somewhere and-” 

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Namjoon echoes softly, tenderly, the room engulfed in comforting scents. Jungkook sniffles, head rising a little as soft fingers brush at his tears. Jimin is looking at him gently, regret and upset engraved deep into his face, wiping away his tears. Jungkook reaches out a hand and wipes a few of Jimin’s own, which leads the omega’s face to crumble. 

“I know it’s probably too late,” Jimin croaks, eyes red, “But you could belong here. If you’d have us still.” 

“I need time,” Jungkook answers, breathing in that milky scent of omega, “I need some time. To think. To heal. But I, I really do-” 

“I think we all need that time.” Hoseok says gently, looping an arm around Taehyung’s waist and ruffling his hair. “We all need some time. Some healing. Some reflection. Some help. But first, lets focus on healing you up, okay? And then we’ll take it one step at a time. What’s in the best interests of everyone.” 

Jungkook nods tearily, wiping a palm over his wet cheeks. 

Time. He just needs time. 

He’s not sure what he wants anymore. 

Chapter Text

As Jungkook stares up at the large house in front of him, he isn’t sure what to feel. Well, he is, but yet he doesn’t. Can’t label the emotions gathered in his chest, the tightness in his gut. It isn’t negative, no, nothing of the sort, but it’s a kind that he hasn’t felt before. A twist of nervous excitement, tentativeness, anxiety. 

It’s been two years since he left Min Yoongi’s pack house, driven quietly home after his chest had almost fully healed. Left alone in his small apartment with an abundance of food, a reluctant Yoongi looking at him sadly as they’d stood - Jungkook in the door and the beta out. A light hug, indescribable emotions in the air, and Jungkook was finally, finally alone. 

Left to the storm of his own thoughts, to finally sit down and unpack everything. 

Healing is not linear. It’s not even a line at all, straight nor bent. It’s not something one can describe either - left alone to finally feel, to look back at events that hurt, and validate yourself. Someone having a reason to hurt you, Jungkook understands, is not an excuse nor a justification for their actions. And even if you can understand, empathize, it doesn’t mean it hurt any less. 

In those two years, by his lonesome again, Jungkook had just allowed himself to live. The pack had been very kind to him, clear that they want to make amends, but Jungkook just… wasn’t sure at first. Had attended some funded sessions and cried his heart out, unpacking every turn in his history which has left a scar, a blemish, a crumbling within his heart. 

It wasn’t easy, lots of sleepless nights with crying, with debating, with regret, but Jungkook, after a year, had finally come to a decision. Something to place the crown jewel, to grant an end to everything. 

He let them try again. 

Generous on his behalf, an honour really, that they got another chance, another try to make things right. 

First, it was just whispered phone calls, sweet messages, and flowers from all of the pack. Phone calls with Yoongi and Hoseok were his favourite - deep voices normally reading him stories or simply narrating their days. Video calls of baking sessions, of Taehyung nervously dropping bread dough on the floor, Jimin accidentally spilling chocolate cake batter all over his feet - sending Jungkook laughing. 

It had been dates after that, one-on-one time with the members. Dates to aquariums with Seokjin, an art class with Namjoon, and a little picnic in the park with Yoongi. Jimin had bought him pastries, Taehyung a new book, Hoseok a pretty hairpin. Hours of sitting, walking, talking, crying. Endless apologies, regrets on all behalves. 

And it was after all that, two whole years that Jungkook had come to his final, final decision. Laid it all out on his bedroom floor, his brow wrinkled and decided what was best for him. 

He steps forward, bag heavy on his right shoulder, and slides the key into the lock. The grand door slides open easily, like butter, and he can barely hide the small smile as he slips the key back into his pocket. 

It opened. Opened the door of his own accord. Not ushered in, not tempted in with what could’ve been. His own hand, his own decision. 

He pushes the door open gently, stepping inside the entryway. There’s a place for his shoes on the shoe rack, tucked among a variety of others. Like there’s a place for him here, a home, a spot for him. Jungkook places them on the rack quietly, straightening to look down the familiar corridor. It really hasn’t changed much, despite the two-year gap, with the same paintings, same wooden floors. 

But.. it’s different. 

There’s someone paused on the staircase in front of him, hands clenched tightly in front of him, bottom lip caught in between his teeth. 

Jungkook gives a gentle smile and takes a step toward him. “Hi.” 

“Hi.” Jimin whispers back, blinking slowly. They stare at each other for a moment, that milky scent enveloping Jungkook like a blanket. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I know,” Jungkook says simply and Jimin gives him that kind, familiar smile and steps forward, hand out. The omega obliges, slowly locking their fingers together, not daring to break their delicate eye contact. Smiles on both faces, omegan scents blooming happily. 

“Shall I show you to your room?” Jimin questions, eyes soft and tender, “We’ve got it all set up for you.” 

“That would be nice,” Jungkook murmurs, following as Jimin tugs their combined hands, leading him up the staircase. 

Each step up, each step away from the door feels like something. Something new, something terrifying, Jungkook’s heart on the line, his emotions skewed but-

It’s something new. Something different.

Maybe, just maybe, he could belong here. 

----

“TAEHYUNG!” Yoongi shouts, face contorted with fury, arms crossed tightly. Seokjin is on his shoulder, looking at the kitchen in disbelief. There’s tension in the air, the two standing on the open floor almost trembling. Not daring to look at each other. 

“That was rude!” 

“What?!” Taehyung splutters, sending a sharp glare at Jungkook. The omega returns it, face stony and arms crossed. He scowls, poking his tongue out at the beta, watching how Taehyung’s face flushes even more. 

“He started it!” Taehyung shrieks back, pointing an accusing finger. Jungkook mocks him, stomping his feet a little as a white cloud begins to float around him. 

“Jungkook,” Yoongi scolds, looking at him sharply, “That was rude too.” 

The omega sulks. 

Jungkook wants to leave. He hates it here, hates it in this damn kitchen, hates being covered with-

…

Flour? 

Taehyung snorts, poking his tongue out at Jungkook. Their faces are painted white, flour sticking to their hair and clothes. It covers every surface in the kitchen, smoldering into the tiles - bread dough long forgotten on the side. 

It looks like Seokjin is holding back a giggle, desperately trying to control the corner of his lips as Yoongi scowls again. 

“I spent three hours cleaning this kitchen last night, only for you two, no three, where the hell is Jimin?!” 

Silence for a moment, just a moment, before a deafening squeak fills the air. They all watch slowly as one of the cabinet doors swings open, revealing a cowering, very powdery-looking omega curled inside. He gives a sheepish smile, flour on his teeth. 

“Drat.” Jungkook mutters and Taehyung looks disappointed, shaking his head. Jimin climbs out of the cupboard quickly, taking Taehyung offered hand, and jumps to the floor. He’s by Jungkook’s side, slipping their hands together as the three of them cower. 

Yoongi looks like he’s about to explode. 

“tHREE HOURS!” He starts, taking a step forward.

The tension snaps. 

“RUN!” Jimin squeals, dragging both of their hands as they start to run, a large cloud of flour blooming at their quick movement. They dash for the side kitchen door, Seokjin laughing loudly as Yoongi splutters, blinded by the floor, shouting after them. 

The three of them race down the corridor, giggling with their footprints staining white and it’s all fun and games until-

Hoseok catches Jungkook full on, cuddling him tight to his chest as he fists the shirts of a runaway beta and omega. Immediately, they’re all whining, struggling against the pack alpha’s grip but Hoseok just laughs, escorting them softly back to the kitchen. 

“Come on, little ones. Let’s help Yoongi clean up your mess, hmm?”

It’s sulking, squealing as Yoongi descends upon them with tickling fingers, a grin as they whine at him to stop, flour on tongues as they kiss messily and-

All is forgiven eventually after they spend four hours scrubbing the kitchen clean. 

But Jungkook can’t help it - not when Namjoon is hiding behind Seokjin, a wide smile on his face, Yoongi cursing him out as the beta had just tipped flour into his hair, Hoseok trying to shake the flour out of Taehyung’s curls. He can’t help but look at his wrist, pausing his scrubbing. Run his fingers over his palm gently, down the flow of his skin.

Admiring the clean skin there, the black ink long disappeared. His eyes raise to the window, a soft smile spreading over his cheeks as he sees a lone snowflake twinkle by. It’s starting to snow again. Winter. He’s been here for a year. 

It feels like he’s always been here. 

The bite marks on his neck thrum happily as Jungkook starts to laugh, laugh as Yoongi throws a mop at Namjoon, laugh as Jimin comes diving at him, hugging him tightly around the shoulders. 

It’s not linear, not perfect, sometimes harsh words and hurt feelings but-

He didn’t just find his intended. 

He found a pack. 

His pack. 

And Jungkook wouldn’t change anything for the world. 

Chapter Text

It’s slick. It’s slick and it’s wet and it’s quiet and it’s the soft squelch of skin on skin, Jimin’s stuttering moans rolling over Jungkook’s sweaty skin. He’s tired, it’s settling deep into his veins, the strain of his muscles and drying slickness in between his legs. Everything is glazed, relaxed, that thrumming burn of pre-heat sated at least for the time being. 

Jimin’s moans are sweet, tempting. It’s as if it’s his own pleasure, rolling over his skin in soothing waves, making that burn between his legs twitch just a little. Jungkook mumbles, squeezing his eyes closed a little tighter, nuzzling a little deeper into the blankets below him. They smell like him, like Jimin, like pack, nest. Milky and soothing, rolling over his tongue and through his body like a tidal wave, turning his joints to jelly. He whimpers to himself, thigh muscles tensing a little as warm cum continues to slowly drip down the back of his thighs, over his slightly swollen balls. 

Yoongi. Fresh and warm, the beta’s sweat still glued to his back, gentle hands in his hair as he’d fucked Jungkook through another pre-heat wave, had hushed him as Jimin had watched them through lidden eyes. 

Jungkook forces his eyes open as he hears Jimin moan for him, name sweet on his lips, that delicious milky scent smothering every sense. With a muted whine, he wriggles closer, fingers knitting around the older omega’s upper arms, the desperation clear when Jimin’s nails dig into his shoulder. They tug each other impossibly close, even as Jimin’s small body rocks with gentle thrusts, scrambling until their lips find one anothers. Slick, wet, messy as they kiss, as Jimin moans into Jungkook’s mouth, and slides a searching hand down his spine. 

“Ngh, hyung-” He whimpers softly as Jimin’s fingers search through the wet mess, coming to press at his hole. They slide in with ease, dragging delicately at his walls, Jungkook’s hips jerking up unconsciously as he gasps into Jimin’s mouth, stomach clenching. He wasn’t anticipating his body to rise to the arousal so soon, but it’s impossible not to when his omega is touching him so softly. 

“Yeah, yeah-” Jimin whines, thrusting his fingers quickly into Jungkook’s hole as his body rocks, his teeth digging into the younger omega’s bottom lip. They’re both whining, gasping for air, rocking against each other as slick sounds fill the air, Yoongi’s low groans falling over them. 

“Hyung- Hyung-” Jungkook stammers, gut curling impossibly hot as he moans loud and clear, hole clenching as his body hurriedly reaches his peak - his balls seize up and his small cock spurts useless over the nest. It’s a little sore, tender, exhaustion heavy in his veins, but it’s satisfying and Jungkook’s eyelashes flutter in muted pleasure.

Jimin isn’t far behind, Jungkook can smell it when his omega’s thigh tenses, when Jimin bites back a loud squeal, fingers digging harshly into Jungkook’s rib cage. 

It’s them, it’s them, overwhelmingly hot, smelling of each other as Yoongi’s hips stutter one last time, coming inside Jimin with a low, muted moan. 

Them. Them, them, them. Nest. 

It’s pack. 

Sometimes it’s just them. Just he and Jimin curled in the master bedroom, the nesting room, tangled together in a mess of sweaty limbs. Mouths on holes, fingers shifting through slick, rocking against each other, slipping cocks through messes of cum. Preheat is often a wave of possessive on both their parts, glued together in their nest, unable to move mere inches from each other. But sometimes, sometimes, and only when they want - they call. Call for the person sitting outside the door in a comfy armchair, waiting on their every need, ensuring that their omegas are well taken care of. The sensation of any of his hyung’s cocks pressing at his rim whilst Jungkook is buried inside Jimin is a burn he adores, one hazy and misted in his memory, but it’s good. 

But preheat burns. It hurts, tight coils in his stomach as Jimin tries to massage his stomach and vice versa, as Seokjin-Hyung or Namjoon-Hyung help him swallow some tame painkillers. 

“Feel a little better, my sweet boys?” Yoongi rumbles fondly, running a sweaty hand down Jimin’s spine. The omega keens into it, sighing happily into Jungkook’s mouth as they numbly press their lips together, not so much as a kiss as it is just being close. 

From the corner of Jungkook’s eyes - a little glossy, relief heavy over his tired limps, he can see how Yoongi looks. His fated is a state. A sexy one. Hair sweated and dripped over his eyes, face flushed a little pink, slick staining the area around his cock. Red marks on his hips and thighs from the press into their asses, the impact of his thrusts. 

“Water? Food?” His hyung murmurs, leaning down carefully to rub their noses together. All Jungkook can do is whine, and twist a little to drag the beta into a lazy kiss, fingers curling up into the nape of Yoongi’s hair. 

“Thirsty.” Jungkook croaks once Yoongi has moved away a little, moved away to allow Jimin to drag his lower lip between his teeth and kiss the beta in thanks. 

“Thirsty? Okay, okay.” The beta breathes out, sweeping their sweaty hair back with gentle hands, “I’m going to wipe myself off a bit and I’ll bring you some drinks. Taehyung-ah has been stressed baking all afternoon, maybe some nibbles too?” 

Jimin hums, Jungkook’s brow furrowing just a little in displease at the mention of cleaning up. They like messy, like their mates smelling of slick and pleasure - but it would be nice to have drinks and if Yoongi walks downstairs in his current state then well… he’s going to get mounted in the kitchen. 

“Thank you, hyung,” Jungkook mumbles as his eyes sink closed, and his body melts. “I love you.” His fated chuckles again, pressing kisses to both omega's foreheads as Jimin echoes the sentiment. 

“I love you both too.” 

----

 It’s starting to get warmer. An unbearable thrumming that is running madly just underneath his skin, a tingle that causes his wrists and ankles to swell. Jungkook noses into the side of Jimin’s shoulder with gritted teeth, fighting back the whines that threaten to spill from his mouth. He can feel the rise and fall of the older omega’s chest as he naps, eyelashes fluttering a little as he curls just a little more toward Jungkook, calming milky scent washing over his heated body. 

He wants to curl closer, bury his nose into Jimin’s throat and whimper until the older omega wakes up, and gives him a helping hand. But with gentle fingers, ones that tremble with slight pain, Jungkook traces the dark circles underneath his mate's eyes. It’s hard being two omegas, both in preheat, both sweaty and needy. Especially for another. 

He can’t wake him. He needs to let Jimin sleep for a little longer - just as the other omega had a few hours ago, simply petting Jungkook’s hair until he had awoken an hour later. 

So, with unstable legs and a croaky throat, Jungkook moves. He slowly eases himself over the edge of the nest, stiffening a little as he hears Jimin give a small whine, and roll a little deeper into the blanket. It’s not a pleasant sensation, leaving the nest when all he wants to do is stay in it, but calling for whoever is sitting outside the door isn’t an option. Jungkook doesn’t want to wake Jimin, wants to give him the opportunity to rest. So, with prickling skin and a tight jaw, he limps slowly toward the door, absolutely nude, fingers curling around the doorknob. 

It’s a lot colder, so much colder than it is in the nest and Jungkook shivers. He tugs the door open slowly, letting out a relieved breath as it doesn’t squeak. Albeit the fact that he’s entirely nude - stomach sloping gently, cock soft on his legs - Jungkook doesn’t feel exposed at all. It’s just his pack, his mates. 

Slowly, slowly, with a little omegan sound, Jungkook pokes his head out the doorway, eyes instantly shooting to the armchair that is sat a mere stride away from the door. It’s beautiful, expensive and suited to the house - dark and plush, the chair still carrying the indent of one of his Hyungs. 

But it’s empty. 

Jungkook’s brow furrows. 

He takes a step outside slowly, slowly, placing his hand on the seat of the chair. It’s still warm, still warm as if the person seated there had just got up a few moments ago. Which is strange. Because in all their previous heats, even in the alpha’s ruts, the affected has never been left alone. There are enough pack members to run the house and take shifts outside doorways, waiting hand and foot. It’s comforting, especially for the omegas, to know that one of their alphas, one of their betas is close, that nobody is going to be able to get past them. They’re safe. Nobody would be able to make it into their room alive. 

But it’s empty. 

Wrong. 

Brows furrowing further, Jungkook goes to take another step further down the corridor - but something sharp, something warning in his mind makes him take a step back. Chewing on his bottom lip, he moves to snatch up a spare blanket from the bedroom, wrapping it tightly around himself. And, with one final look at Jimin’s peacefully sleeping figure, Jungkook steps back out into the hallway.

The corridor is quiet, quiet and still as Jungkook creeps down it, blanketing tightening around his shoulders. He pauses for a moment, licking his lips as he stares out the window. It’s snowing. Huh. It wasn’t snowing when they had retreated into the nest. But now, upon craning, fingers grazing over the glass, it looks decently deep. More than just deep, he can barely see for a metre outside the window - it’s all a white mist, thick and moving. 

A snowstorm? Hmm.

He continues down the corridor, bare feet padding gently. Soon, the rise of the staircase comes into view and Jungkook’s shoulders slouch a little in relief. Surely, his packmates will be nearby. Within arms reach once he makes it there. He hurries forward the last couple of steps, drawing in a deep breath as his shaking hands clasp onto the bannister and-

“There’s a cabin to the back of the property. You can spend the storm there, one of my packmates can-” 

“We’ve already checked there,” A new, foreign voice interrupts and it has Jungkook’s eyebrows creasing, “I hope you don’t mind, we were quite desperate. Part of the roof has caved in, actually. It’s not really liveable.” 

Slowly, head cocking a little in caution, Jungkook takes a slow step down the stairs. The front door drifts into view - the muscular back of his pack alpha blocking the doorway, shoulders tense and door slightly open. And then it hits him. 

Not pack. Not nest. Not, not, not, not. 

His mouth tightens, yet unable to contain the rusty whimper that slips from his lips. Hoseok is spinning quick as a whip, eyes wide and jaw tense as he must see Jungkook - how tiny he looks, knees collapsing as he sinks into the staircase, eyes watering with falling tears, hand slammed over his nose. 

“FUCK! NAMJOON!” Hoseok yells, hands gripping into the doorknob so tightly that it cracks underneath his palm. But he’s blurring from view, Jungkook’s breaths shaky and tight as he shakes his head, trying to get this disgusting, burning scent from his nose. 

“Oh, he must be what I can smell-” 

A shape, twisting through the air and it’s Namjoon, Namjoon vaulting over the edge of the bannister, landing on the stairs in front of him heavily. Jungkook can feel how the beta’s chest heaves as he scoops Jungkook from the floor, and cuddles him to his chest, but it’s too late. 

“Kookie?” 

“Shit,” Namjoon curses and they’re bounding up the staircase, his hands finding Jimin - standing there, small and vulnerable. But it’s too late, Jungkook can see his omega out of his blurred eyes - mouth tightening, nose wrinkled and shoulders curling. Eyes glossing over. 

No. 

“Shit, no, no, babies,” Namjoon is cooing to them and they’re moving, moving so, so fast, everything blurring around them. “Come on, we’re going back to nest, we’ll make you feel good, yeah? It’s alright, you’re alright, you’re safe, don’t- come on, sweethearts-” 

Jungkook’s chest is tight. He can smell the overwhelming warmth of the nest as he’s almost shoved into it, Jimin instantly curling into his side with a short, pained whine. Namjoon is there, clumsy hands trying to soothe them, press at their scents glands and entice their heat to continue, to start but it’s- it’s too late. 

It’s basic omegan knowledge. For an omega to have a heat, to produce one, their environment has to be safe. It’s their body going into a vulnerable state, one that their body will only allow when it knows it’s safe, and familiar. It’s why it’s so vital, so important to keep strangers out from a nest, especially when an omega is in preheat. Any slight change, the aspect of danger - and an omega’s body can shut down, painfully grind their heat to a stop in a form of defense. 

It’s only happened once since Jungkook had joined the pack. It had been his third month after officially moving in, and there had been panic - Jimin had missed his consistent heat. It just wouldn’t click, wouldn’t start no matter what anyone had did. Only, for a week later, when Jungkook went into preheat, for Jimin to do the same. His body had delayed it in order to sync up with Jungkook’s heat. A joyous, relieving situation, because it meant that not only Jimin was fine, but that every part of him was accepting Jungkook as part of the nest - enough to recognise him as an intimate nestmate and correspond to their cycles. 

But it hurts. 

It hurts as Jungkook curls his own arm around his waist, squeezes his eyes closed with a pained whimper, his stomach curling with ugly, dreadful cramps. He can feel Jimin panting onto his neck, little squeaks of strain emerging from his mouth as his nestmate curls in agony, clutching at him with desperation. 

“No, no, no,” Namjoon is saying, stroking at their hair, their bare bodies, “No, no, babies, it’s okay, you’re okay, shhh, don’t- you can go into heat, you’re safe, shhh-”

The sound of the door clicking open is harsh, threatening, and all it does for Jungkook’s panicking brain is distress him further - his hands shake in spasms as he clutches at Jimin, digs his teeth into a chunk of flesh and bones, whines into him. 

“It’s okay, omega, it’s me,” Hoseok’s calm voice comes, “It’s me and it’s Taehyung. Nobody else. You’re safe.” 

It does a little, a little so Jungkook can hear them and not just the pounding of his own heart in his ears, but it doesn’t really help. He can smell the soft scent of Taehyung surrounding him, the beta whimpering in what must be distress as his hand strokes down Jungkook’s sweat-strained back, trying to soothe him. 

“Shit,” Hoseok curses, his scent spiking in displeasure, “Their bodies are shutting down. Fuck.” 

He can smell his pack alpha, smell as his hand trails down Jungkook’s front, and strokes over his stomach. He whimpers, teeth digging a little deeper into Jimin’s collarbone, his omega clawing at him with pained little squeaks. 

“It’s triggered them.” Taehyung says softly, sounding utterly devastated, “Hyung, they’re pulling out of preheat.” 

“I need you to go grab some icepacks,” Jungkook can hear Hoseok instructing, can feel the tilt of the nest as his pack alpha is clambering into the nest. “Icepacks, pain meds, anything soothing. Yoongi is still dealing with our..” His voice tilts angrily, “Guests.” 

His hand is coming up to Jungkook’s jaw, massaging gently, his alpha cooing at him to let go as the door closes again. He does as he’s asked - releases Jimin from his jaws - only to pounce upward, fasten his teeth into his alpha’s neck, right over the collage of mating bites. Alpha doesn’t complain. Just growls to him softly, pushing their bodies together so the omegas are fully encased underneath him. Protected, protected. 

“I failed you. I’m sorry.” 

Sharp pain is the first and last thing to spike in Jungkook’s mind. He claws, he screams, he sobs. 

It drowns him. 

----

There’s a growl. Low and chesty and Jungkook startles, eyes blinking open sluggishly. The second his body regains consciousness though, the omega is whimpering, curling in tighter on himself. The pain in his stomach has lessened, but it’s still there - the painful tendrils of fading heat spiking - a certain tightness in his chest, a dryness in his throat that won’t fade. 

His brow furrows as he tries to recall the last hours. They’re not really there, to be honest, it’s just a hazy blur of pain, of Jimin’s muscle in between his teeth, the clawing hands of his omega, the faint wisps of growls, sour scents. 

Apart from those faint memories, it seems that his brain has stored much of it away. Tried to minimize his remembrance of pain, the muted screams as he had curled in on himself. 

Jungkook had never pulled out of heat before. He wonders faintly if this is what Jimin had to go through, all those years ago. A flinch of sorrow, of sour, at even thinking that his omega had to suffer through this, and had to suffer through it alone. They weren’t close enough then, not yet for him to-

Growl. 

Jungkook stiffens again, pulling out of his head to feel. Now, it’s now that he registers that there are fingers running through his hair, something warm curled underneath his head. He shifts with a low sound, snuffling, and he’s quick to realise that his head is cradled in Jimin’s lap, the omega’s fingers carding through his hair. 

Sensing he’s awake, Jimin seems to startle a little, fingers stilling as he lets out a low omegan sound. Instinctually, a responding sound bubbles from Jungkook’s chest and the fingers resume their possessive stroking, the omega shifting a little underneath him. 

“Are you awake, Jungkook-ah?” 

Jungkook blinks, eyes scanning past the layer of nest sleepily. He finds Namjoon, Namjoon sitting on a chair very far from the bed, practically pressed up against the wall next to the door. He catches Jungkook’s eyes and smiles gently, but his eyes don’t seem to match the sentiment. 

“Why ‘re so far back, Hyungi’?” Jungkook slurs sleepily, eyelids fluttering as Jimin’s fingers brush over a specific point on his scalp. He nuzzles deeper into the warmth of the omega’s bare legs, relishing in the quiet, rumbling purr it produces from Jimin. 

Namjoon laughs softly and Jungkook opens a sleepy eye to look at him. 

“Jimin-ah won’t let me get any closer. He’s been growling at everyone all day, understandably.” 

“Growlin’? Hyungie?” Jungkook blinks slowly, trying to push himself up off of the bed via his elbows. It doesn’t work, his arms just buckle and he lets out a low, distressed whine as he realises that his body is shaking. He hears the scrape of the chair, of Namjoon getting up - and a blood-curdling snarl rips through the room, Jimin’s arms coming down to curl around Jungkook’s body, tugging him closer. 

The omega usually isn’t too physically strong, he’s small and cute, but for some reason, Jungkook finds himself pulled upward, bundled clumsily into the omega’s lap. He lets out a small, confused sound, burying his nose into the red, inflamed gland on Jimin’s throat. He can feel his hands around his body, boiling hot and possessive, nose nuzzling at his hair. 

Namjoon collapses back into the chair with a sound of frustration. Jungkook peers over from his new little haven in Jimin’s throat, resting his cheek against the man’s collarbones. 

“He must have caught a scent on one of us,” Namjoon explains quietly, eyes glimmering, “One of… yeah. We realized instantly, of course, he tried to bite Taehyung- but even now that we’ve all showered, I guess… I guess his instincts still remember.” 

Jungkooks blinks blearily, mind ticking. He doesn’t remember that. Jimin noses at his forehead softly, humming to him. Well. Well, he wants Namjoon to come closer. He suddenly longs for another scent, one that isn’t hot with distress, with the taint of dying heat, of sour omega. He lets out a small whine, and curls his fingers over Jimin’s shoulder. 

“Hyung? Omega-Hyung? Can Namjoo’-Hyung come closer? Please? I want to smell ‘im.”

Jimin stiffens like a rod and Jungkook can feel how his chest tightens. He digs his fingers a little deeper into the omega’s shoulders, trying his best to twist his pheromones into something milky, calming. 

“Please? Please? If you don’ like how he smells we can ask him to go away, but pleas’, omega-Hyung-” 

Even from his position, he can see how Jimin’s jaw has tightened, body rigid and defensive. But when Namjoon slowly rises from the chair, takes a few, tender steps forward - the omega doesn’t snarl, doesn’t lash out. 

Jungkook breathes out in relief. He’s sure he would be reacting the same if he had been conscious to catch a stranger's scent, especially with how vulnerable they both were in that horrible moment. 

There’s a tense moment where he can hear Jimin sniffing cautiously, Namjoon standing on the edge of the bed - and then relief washes over him, because, almost urgently, Jimin is sticking a hand out, grabbing in Namjoon’s direction. The beta’s frame slumps in relief, happily sliding his hand into Jimin’s waiting one, allowing himself to be dragged into the nest. 

Jungkook purrs lowly as he feels Namjoon wrap around them, the soft nose of the beta pushing at his hair, the soft sound of a kiss being pressed to Jimin’s jaw. Jimin seems to melt a little as well, because his hold on Jungkook is loosening, body swaying into Namjoon’s waiting hold. Jungkook watches the omega nuzzle into their beta’s neck, a hand curled tightly in his shirt. 

They pulled out of preheat. 

He flinches when he feels a hand in his hair again, blinking up at Namjoon. The beta’s face is pulled into a concerned expression, hand moving down to cup his cheek. Jungkook nuzzles into it, eyes fluttering closed. 

“Does it still hurt?”

A pause. 

“Yes,” Jungkook breathes, stomach churning, “It still hurts, Hyung. Is fadin’ now but it’s… it’s empty.” 

“Hollow,” Jimin murmurs and Namjoon lets out a concerned sound, arms tightening around them, “I feel like part of me is missing, Hyung. It’s just… empty.” 

Jungkook nods along to his words, grimacing as a sting of pain shoots down his spine. Namjoon has shifted to speak again, forehead wrinkled and-

The door to the nesting room opens. 

It’s Namjoon that growls this time, grip tightening until it hurts. Jungkook tries to shift, peering over his own shoulder to see the door, but the arms around him won’t let him move. 

“Don’t you growl at me too, Kim Namjoon,” A low voice grates and Jungkook deflates again, recognizing the tone of his fated, “But I’m glad you finally managed to convince them to let you closer.” 

The door clicks shut and the arms around him finally allows Jungkook to move, and he shifts a little, holding a wanting hand out. Yoongi interlocks their fingers together, waiting for Jimin’s nod of approval to step through into the nest. 

He brushes Jungkook’s hair back with a soft hand, the omega nuzzling up into his palm. His arms also curl around them and Jungkook shifts a little, feeling a tiny bit suffocated with so many people so close. 

“What… what happens now?” Jimin asks softly. Yoongi sighs heavily, moving to gently stroke through Jimin’s hair too. 

“I’m sorry, my love. I… I think you’ll feel better soon, and you’ll be able to get up and about. Your heat is gone, at least for this cycle. I’m so sorry, baby. We failed you both, failed to provide a safe environment as a pack-” 

“Stop, Hyung,” Jungkook interrupts, grabbing onto Yoongi’s shirt urgently, “It wasn’t your fault, I shouldn’t have gotten up, I shouldn’t have gone out and-” 

“No, you stop,” Yoongi rebuttals firmly, clasping at his hands, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Jungkook-ah. Hoseokie had got up to answer the door, he’d recognized the foreign scents and of course, as pack alpha had kicked into over-protective mode. You weren’t wrong for going out there, you were just searching for your pack, as you should when you’re in heat and-”

“It wasn’t Alpha’s fault!” Jungkook snaps, and his chest is suddenly feeling tighter, “I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have left the nesting room, it was-” 

“Both of you, stop.” Namjoon’s voice rings out firmly and they both fall silent, Jungkook tugging Yoongi a little closer by the hem of his shirt. 

“It was none of the pack’s fault,” The beta says, pinching Jimin’s chin, “Those… those strangers shouldn’t have been in our territory to begin with. They shouldn’t have come to our door, shouldn’t have asked to stay.” 

“They were in our territory?” 

“Yes,” Yoongi sighs heavily, mumbling as Jungkook shifts a little, clambers into his lap to bite softly at his throat, “They got lost apparently. And then the snowstorm hit and they needed a place to stay. Typical.” 

“Wait…” Jimin’s voice is stiff, cold, “They’re here? In the pack house?”  

Just the thought has Jungkook gritting his teeth, a snarl bubbling at the back of his throat. 

“We couldn’t just leave them out to freeze,” Namjoon replies gently, “Especially not after you… you weren’t in heat anymore, it was too late. There was no reason for us to turn them away, not after they had ruined your environment already.” 

“So you just… let them in?!” Jungkook snaps, hackles rising, teeth baring angrily. 

“Believe me, alpha didn’t want to,” Yoongi assures him, trying to soothe his tenseness, “But the strangers insisted that they would die if they were left outside. They… they used such horrible words though, insisting that if you were pulling out of heat, there was no point in leaving them out to die. Pretty sure Hoseokie wanted to rip their throats out. But regardless, we can’t just turn freezing people away, even if they’re fucking invading our territory.” 

“You should’ve,” Jimin mumbles and nobody seems to rebuttal against that. 

The door clicks open again, and it’s both Yoongi and Namjoon who growl this time - and it honestly draws a faint smile of amusement from Jungkook’s lips. He manages to hide it though, peering over his shoulder. A nice, warm wash of alpha slides over his senses, eyes glazing as his shoulders, which he hadn’t even realized were stiff, relax. 

Hoseok doesn’t scold the betas for growling at him, barely even lifts an eyebrow, just shuts the door quietly behind him and approaches the nest in careful strides. Something bubbles in Jungkook’s throat as his pack alpha draws closer - something awfully needy, wanting, and he can’t help the way he stretches out his arms, and lets out a little whine. 

And then, he’s in Hoseok’s arms, cuddled to his chest. He hears Jimin whine softly at him being lifted from the nest, but it quietens the second Hoseok heaves the both of them back into it, settling them down. Jimin is quick to crawl over, squish himself into Hoseok’s lap as well - and the alpha seems more than happy to nip softly at their throats, making them feel small in only the way the pack alpha can. 

Jungkook shivers happily when Hoseok strokes a hand through his hair, mumbles to him in soft sounds that only the alpha can produce. It’s clear he’s trying to soothe them, make them comfortable, and by god is it working. He tucks himself right into the alpha’s throat, nose pressed to his scent gland, letting that warm, rich scent wash over him. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard of our uninvited guests,” The alpha murmurs, and yet it doesn’t spark anger or panic in Jungkook, it’s only alpha, “I want you to stay away from them. Okay, sweethearts? Especially coming down from your heats. We don’t know what your reaction is going to be, having your cycles skewed. I don’t want you anywhere near them. Understand?” 

“Yes, Hyung,” Jimin mumbles, and Jungkook feels a hand lacing into his own, fingers squeezing, “I don’t want to go near them anyway.” 

But there’s something in the pit of Jungkook’s stomach, something wriggling over the lingering pain of his shut-down heat. A bad feeling, something rotting. There’s… there’s something strange about this situation. 

Oh well. He’ll tell his alpha when he feels a bit better. 

----

“Are you sure you’re alright out here?” Seokjin asks gently, cupping Jungkook’s cheek with one hand, concern clearly laced in the alpha’s eyes. Jungkook swallows, but nods. It’s been four days since he first awoke after the screeching halt of his heat, and now that his gut has seemingly settled, he’s out of the nesting room for the first time in days. 

There’s still unease on his mind, uneasy at being so far from Jimin, when they’ve spent the last couple of days tightly intertwined, working through the pain of their lingering heat symptoms. But he knows that his omega is upstairs somewhere, Namjoon helping him to bathe, so surely, surely everything will be alright. 

But there are invaders in the nest. 

Jungkook hasn’t seen them yet, hasn’t seen them as Seokjin had carried him down to the kitchen, content at giving him a change of scenery. But the house just feels… stiff. Tension ready to snap and Jungkook finds himself peering around in paranoia, waiting for someone to jump him. Ambush him from behind a corner, in a place where he’s supposed to be safe. 

Nobody seems to be happy about it. 

Seokjin sighs, clearly upset, pinching his cheeks gently with two fingers. The fire from the oven crackles lightly behind them and Jungkook giggles, watching the shadows dance over the tiled floor. He pouts until his alpha presses a soft kiss to his lips, hands sliding over the omega’s shoulders, slotting in between his spread legs. 

“Hyung,” Jungkook scolds lightly, but it’s not unwelcoming, hands sliding around the alpha’s hips as he cranes down to kiss him again sweetly, “You said we were cooking.” 

“Hmmm… I can think of something else I’d like to eat,” Jin whispers softly, his lips quirking into a smile, carefully nuzzling their noses together. Jungkook giggles, little bells, and pinches at the alpha’s hip. 

“You promised we were gonna make breakfast for Jiminie.” 

“That I did,” The alpha sighs dramatically, slowly drawing back with a fake fainting motion, “Oh woe is me. You’re going to deprive me of kisses for the feat of making breakfast.”

“Hyung!” Jungkook laughs, jumping off of the counter to loop his arms tightly around the alpha’s shoulder. He giggles in his face, nosing at the softness of his cheek, and then presses his lips to the man’s ear - “You help me make the best breakfast Jimin has ever seen, and I’ll make sure you eat well, hmm?” 

That seems to be a little motivating, Seokjin’s wind wiper laugh ringing through the kitchen as he presses a final peck to Jungkook’s lips, moving away to tug open the large fridge. Jungkook knows that it’s the lingering heat pheromones that are eating away at his alpha, probably confusing his instincts. Because at this time, he should be in the nest, deep into heat - it’s routine, a routine they’ve had for years - so it’s no wonder his poor mate is a little confused, a little hungry for him. 

He’s always had him at this time. 

It’s why his Hyung is a little clingier, a little hungrier, it’s probably why all of them are - why Jungkook’s mouth fills with saliva as he sees Namjoon’s biceps flex as he swings the axe in the backyard (knee-deep in snow and barely visible, but fuck, they need the firewood, and if Jungkook is drooling by the window, waiting until he can smother his Hyung in warmth, then it’s his business.) 

“Could you grab some spices out from the pantry, baby?” Seokjin asks gently as he sets a tub of leftover rice onto the side, “Anything you think Jimin would like. I’ll make some sort of fried rice, and heat up some of this chicken as well.” 

Jungkook hums, quickly moving across the kitchen. It’s almost a dance, really, when the two of them are in here - Jungkook occasionally sticking his fingers into dishes, sucking off the sauce when Seokjin mock-scolds him, or his alpha suddenly seizing him in a tight back hug. Or maybe it’s Jungkook using his strength to carry to alpha around the kitchen, relishing in that loud laughter, or it’s Jin feeding him off of spoons, sneakily trying to make him eat as much as possible. 

He’s spooning the rice onto a plate - it’s now thick with sauce, fried egg, chopped spam and small prawns - and he can feel his alpha’s arms loop around his waist, warm and firm. Jungkook sighs happily, tilting his head softly to one side, purring as he feels Seokjin nuzzle into his throat, nose pressing against the scars there. 

It’s them, them, them, and the plates in front of him are seemingly swaying out of view. Jungkook lets out a shaky sigh, something warm curling in his gut as his Hyungs teeth dig gently into the indent of his own mating bite, a hand slowly sliding down his front. It’s not sexual, not explicit, but it’s inviting. Definitely inviting, and Jungkook wants to take that invitation, drag him off to one of the bedrooms-

Why can’t they just do it here? He searches for the answer. Well, food, of course, but why has his mind defaulted to finding somewhere private? Why-

The door opens, and it’s like a screeching siren, and Jungkook flinches away from Seokjin like he’s been shot, body tense. 

He’s spinning faster than Jin is, curling his fingers into his alpha’s upper arm, peering over his shoulder with his spine tensed. There’s- there’s a stranger in the open doorway, just standing there, face blank. 

And whilst Jungkook knows, he knows that they have to be kind, that the pack has made sure to never be cruel to a stranger again, after everything, his entire body is brimming with a peeling feeling of disgust. 

He wants out. He wants to get out of here, now. 

Whilst the scent isn’t bad, it’s not the overwhelming scent, the one from the doorway, the one that sent him spiralling into pain, but it’s not a familiar one either. It’s not one from his mates, from his safe space, it’s not supposed to be here. 

“Can I help you?” Seokjin asks, and his voice is polite, polite but it’s stiff. He knows, Jungkook knows that his Hyung is trying his best - they’ve all learnt, they’ve all learnt that they have to, have to be polite to prevent.. Prevent previous mistakes. 

Jungkook is well aware that none of these people, none of these will ever, ever be pack, but they have to be polite regardless. Even if Jungkook wants to claw his fucking skin off at his scent, at this blank person standing in the doorway. 

The alpha shakes his head slowly, eyes narrow and dark. 

Seokjin clears his throat, a hand reaching behind him to curl around Jungkook’s arm, tucking him behind just a little further. 

“We’re just leaving the kitchen now if you’d like to use it.” 

The stranger doesn’t fucking answer, doesn’t fucking say anything as Jungkook hurriedly grasps at his tray, hides behind Seokjin yet again. The alpha doesn’t fucking do anything as Seokjin guides them past, and softly hurries Jungkook down the corridor. 

He just stands there, stands there as they leave, eyes burning into their backs. And Jungkook, he glances over the bannister as they clamber the stairs - and this intruder has turned, is watching them. 

No. 

Wrong. 

Wrong, wrong, wrong! 

Silent, silent and scary. 

Jungkook is scared. 

He wants his pack alpha. 

Now. 

-----

Jungkook pauses in the doorway, feeling the soft brush of his wollen scarf against his nose. He nuzzles a little deeper into it, tipping his head to the side with a deep sort of fondness, his hip knocking against the wooden frame. Lidden in his thick winter coat, his heart just as warm, he can only watch with gentle, adoring eyes. 

Taehyung’s nose is red. 

His nose is pink, despite the thick hickory coak that curls around his body, hugs firmly at his shoulders. The corners of Jungkook’s lip curl fondly as he watches his beta struggle a little, trying to blow his scarf out of his face with furrowed brows. In his gloved hands, the small stack of firewood sways dangerously. 

It’s still freezing out, despite the thick tarps Yoongi has fastened around the small, enclosed deck. It’s a small space, one where they normally drink tea in the summers, and, in the winters, it’s used to store their spare firewood. But it seems that the tarps haven’t done very much, from the cold red flush that is slowly spreading from Taehyung’s nose. 

Jungkook bites back a giggle and finally steps over the threshold, his snow boots creaking against the deck. Relief seems to flood into Taehyung’s face as Jungkook carefully hooks a few logs from his struggling hands, face beaming into a wide smile. He presses a soft kiss to the omega’s cheek, brushing his nose against his cheekbone before pulling away and staggering toward the doorway. 

Jungkook watches him go with fuzzy, warm vision, fingers tight around the wood in his hands. There’s something loving thrumming through his chest - and whilst his face burns a little with cold, the soft indent of Taehyung’s lips seems to burn brighter than the sun. 

He pouts to himself, knocking his heels together almost giddily. It never changes, the loving affection, and the way that it makes his heart race, race much faster than the organ is probably supposed to go, but it’s okay, because it makes his brain fuzzy with love. 

The omega bites back the urge to spin in a circle, giggling to himself, and instead starts to make movement toward the half-shut door, the one that opens into the kitchen’s pantry. Jungkook is barely a few feet away, frowning a little as his gloves slip, and, by chance, his vision flicks slightly to the side. The house encloses the deck, loops around to make it into it’s own little valley, and, obviously, windows line these walls. It’s a nice way for his alphas to make sure they’re safe, especially when the omegas nap together on the deck in the summer, but everyone should be busy right now. 

Which is why it makes a cold bolt of terror shoot down Jungkook’s spine to see someone there. 

And it’s not pack. 

He freezes in his step, eyes still trained on the door, but the image in his peripherals is going haywire. 

Who- 

It’s one of them. One of the strangers. There are three of them, he’s discovered over the past few days - one smelling like alpha, and the other two smelling of beta. But there’s something weird to their scents. And, of course, that might just be the still-lingering pains of heat twisting his senses, but there’s something almost… artificial to them. Like a constructed identity. 

But that’s foolish, because who would fake their scent after they had gotten lost in the snow? It doesn’t make sense. 

But he’s being watched. He can see the beta, standing there like a statue, face emotionless, arms down by his side. He’s been staring for however long, Jungkook doesn’t know, and it just.. Just doesn’t feel good. 

It feels like Jungkook is being observed, scaled up. A predator assuming its prey, a dark stalker pressed to a base of the tree, watching as a bunny hops by slowly, unknowing of the danger. 

It’s- Jungkook doesn't like it. It’s sending sharp shots of discomfort into his gut, bile curling at the back of his throat. He- he doesn’t like this gaze. He doesn’t like people looking at him in general, he prefers to be small, left alone - pray apart from his packmates. 

And this- this stranger observer it just feels… malicious. Threatening. 

Jungkook’s every move has been watched. Did he watch Taehyung kiss his cheek? The way he paused in the doorway to observe his packmate? Or the way earlier, barely out into the cold, Jungkook had cuddled close for a passionate kiss? 

He’s- 

No. 

Wrong. 

Danger. 

Jungkook bustles through the door, slamming it behind him almost breathlessly. The small curtain over the window sways, clangs at the movement of its metal rail, but the pressure is growing, growing in the omega’s throat. 

He barely manages to stumble through the large pantry, fingers numb and wood slipping from his hands, when he hears a loud noise. 

“Jungkook-ah?!” 

He blinks. Raises his head, his wide, horrified eyes. And.. and Jimin stands there. He stands there next to Taehyung, who is looking awfully shocked at the other omega’s quick entrance, the harsh rise and fall of Jimin’s chest. Jungkook blinks, confused. 

What-

His omega is pushing past Taehyung softly, making his way across the dining room in harsh, calculated steps. His hands are suddenly there, cupping Jungkook’s cheeks, and it’s impossible to not see the concern that is swimming there. 

“Are you okay?” The omega asks softly, a thumb caressing over his cheekbone. 

“I-” Jungkook’s mouth feels too thick, full of cotton wool, “Why- why would you think otherwise?” 

His beta is prying the wood from his hands, obviously sensing the tension in the air, brow furrowed in worry. Jimin doesn't back off, is holding him tightly, a hand dropping to try and urgently strip him of his winter coat.   

“I-” the omega is stumbling over his words, hurriedly dragging the coat over his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor, “I felt unsettled, and it wasn’t from me, you know? Like- like I could taste it, feel it, but it wasn’t mine, and- and if it wasn’t mine, then it had to be yours, Jungkookie.”

His? How-? 

Jungkook’s heart suddenly warms, mouth dry as Jimin’s arms fasten tightly around his throat, instantly diving for his scent gland. There’s electricity in his stomach, something needy lining his mouth as Jungkook bumps at Jimin’s jawline, tries to nestle as close as space will allow. 

He- Jimin felt him. 

Felt him. 

It’s something Jungkook has only ever heard of, the delicate and in-depth bond between omegas. Nestmates, yes, omegas are usual to bond, but to bond in such depth, until their biology begins to intertwine, and their bond grows so thick and vibrant and full that their emotions and longings and pains start to bleed into one another. 

Him and Jimin. 

He can feel Taehyung’s hands in his hair, the breathless little pants coming from his betas mouth as he too, must understand what they’ve just discovered. How long has their bond been like this? It doesn’t feel like fireworks, like the world shifting, it just feels… normal, as if this level of bond has been here all along, as if… as if they’ve been together like this for a long, long time. 

“Fuck,” Taehyung whispers, low and raspy and excited, “Fuck, the Hyungs are going to be so- so fucking elated, shocked to hear that you two are- just- wow. I’ve only read about this in books, and my two babies are- oh.” 

A kiss, pressed to the side of his forehead. Jimin, Jimin, biting softly at his scent gland, fingers fisted in his clothes. They’ve bonded more than Jungkook realised. More than he ever thought was possible. It you had told younger him, younger him that the stand-offish, rude omega would now be one of his most treasured mates, he would’ve laughed. But now, now, that realisation just makes his heart bloom warmer, makes his teeth ache to bite at his mating mark, scarred there on his omega's throat. 

The memory, the terror of the stranger by the windows slips from his mind. 

----

The bathroom counter is cold underneath his bare thighs, sending a slight shiver trailing up the length of his body. But Jungkook brushes it off, a little thankful that his ass is cushioned from the cold by his boxers, and instead redirects his attention back to the sight in front of him. 

Kim Namjoon. 

Kim Namjoon with white shaving cream smeared thick over the lower half of his face, his forehead creased in frustration as he cautiously angles the razor. It’s surprisingly, honestly, that he’s shaving his own face - his hands have a bad habit of slipping, and normally, Yoongi or Hoseok will do it for him with their steady hands. But Namjoon has insisted that under Jungkook’s careful gaze, he will be a hundred-per cent be able to do it on his own. 

(Jungkook has bandages on hand already.)

He watches as the beta carefully drags the razor down the length of his cheek, cream smearing and Jungkook bites back a giggle. Namjoon looks a little funny, being this concentrated. Forehead wrinkled, eyes narrowed, hands clenching at the razor as if it's going to try to run away from him. 

Taehyung’s scent is sparking in amusement too, eyes twinkling in the mirror. He’s standing to the other side of Jungkook’s legs, brushing his teeth rather aggressively - but his eyes are watching Namjoon’s hands as his lover carefully shaves his face. 

It’s cute. 

It’s adorable, really, the way Namjoon’s tongue pokes out a little as he concentrates, as Taehyung bites back a foamy, toothpaste giggle. Jungkook leans forward, elbows digging into the fat of his thigh as he watches Namjoon through smitten, smitten eyes, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. 

He’s such a baby.

The bathroom door clicks open and Jungkook straightens a little, eyebrows rising as he looks toward the opening questioningly. Oh. Oh, it’s Jin-Hyung. He’s leaning against the doorframe, not saying anything, but he’s watching them with fond eyes. Jungkook blinks at him, barely aware that Namjoon has paused his shaving - until there’s a wet kiss being pressed to his lip, shaving cream smearing over his cheeks. 

“Hyung!” Jungkook laughs aloud, wrinkling a little in disgust, and Namjoon looks awfully pleased with himself, even if Jungkook is now smothered in white. Seokjin lets out a dramatic sigh and starts mock-scolding Namjoon loudly, all the while Taehyung is giggling to himself, spitting into the sink and reaching out to grab a washcloth. 

Jungkook parts his legs a little more, allowing Taehyung to come in between them as Namjoon whines loudly. The wash cloth is dragged over his mouth softly, his betas eyes impossibly soft and Jungkook's heart skips a beat. The cream is drawn away, mouth clean, and his beta presses a gentle kiss there - tasting of mint. 

And it’s now, it’s now that Seokjin has stepped further into the bathroom, pretending to put Namjoon into a headlock, that his alpha’s scent fills the room. The bathroom is a grand one - with its double sink, large bathtub and separate shower, plants and storage galore, but his alpha’s scent is quickly flooding the place, sticking thick to the walls. 

Seokjin smells. 

He smells of Yoongi. 

And not just Yoongi, not just a simple brush of a scent gland, no, his alpha reeks of his scent. Reeks of the sweeter scent that you can find in between the betas thighs, smells of slightly dulled arousal. Jungkook draws in a quick, sharp breath, eyes dilating. There’s the scent of slick too, Jimin’s, but it’s a little fainter, as though the omega hadn’t actually participated, but had just given his slick to make the slide easier and-

“Fuck, Hyung,” Taehyung rumbles and Jungkook looks at him - the beta's face is flushed with heat, mouth a little open, “Fuck, Hyung, you smell-” 

Namjoon has frozen as well, Jin’s hands releasing him, and there’s something smug to the alpha’s face. He knows something that they didn’t, that they were unaware of moments ago, that he had just had Yoongi, had been inside him and-

Namjoon’s mouth is parted, shaving cream dripping just a tiny bit as he takes in a large, deep lungful of air. 

“Smells nice?” Seokjin teases, crossing his arms smugly. 

“Fuck, nice, Hyung?” Taehyung growls, and his hands are dropping to clutch at the countertop, “Jesus, Hyung, he’s- is Hyung-” 

Jungkook’s face is flushing, heat filling his cheeks. His lower lip is caught in between his teeth as Yoongi’s hot scent rolls over him, that familiar scent of the beta’s intimate skin. It smells so nice. All his packmates do, when they’re flushed with arousal, needy and open, but there’s something about- something about a beta being with an alpha that just smells… different. 

All his life, Jungkook had been raised thinking that omegas were necessary within the bedroom. For sex, for touching, there always had to be an omega present. How could they not? They were built for it, leaked slick for it, were normally dainty and tight and sweet-smelling. Stereotypical, of course, but Jungkook hadn’t known any better. Everyone around him had been an alpha and an omegan couple, maybe a few beta and omegan, but in his small town, it had been unusual to see anything else. 

And how fucking blind he had been. 

Omegas were nice. Jungkook would know, he is one. But being in the pack has opened his eyes to the way things work, to the things that he’s missed out on, the inner workings of their ranks. 

He’s had all of them, of course. Beta and alpha, both at the same time sometimes. Yoongi, Hoseok, Taehyung, Namjoon, Seokjin. They had had him, slid into him slick and wet and had fucked him to completion. He’d been in their mouths too, coaxed to release that way, bent into positions he’d never even read about. 

The world of mating, mounting had been a lot more vast than he’d ever imagined. As someone raised with their father simply telling him that sex was between an omega and another partner, done to make children… it had blown his little mind. 

Jungkook had spent an entire day in bed after Hoseok had taken him in his mouth for the first time, had him whimpering and crying underneath him for hours. It had been overwhelming. 

And then he’d had Jimin. Jungkook had had Jimin and it had been so different but so… delightful. And Jimin had had him, they had had each other, had flicked their wrists in different ways, had explored things they couldn’t feel with their mates. Being with an omega was so… so lovely, it’s something Jungkook craves now. 

And then, he had seen his Hyungs together. And there’s something special about it, even though he’s seen them together countless times. He was raised to believe that alphas are dominant, mean, overbearing - but how could Jungkook think that as he’d watched Seokjin gasp, hips bucking as Taehyung had taken him in his mouth. The betas together were gentle, bodies rolling, in a way that was so foreign to Jungkook. They weren’t like him and Jimin, nor him with any of his other mates, they were just… lovely. 

Jungkook had seen Hoseok and Seokjin after that. Had seen them together, his pack alpha submitting and… and Jungkook had dropped to his knees with a whine, instantly wet, hands trembling. 

It’s such a beautiful thing to watch his Hyungs mate. To watch them go with what is right, what feels good. And sure, an omega was normally included - not always in person though, most of the time, their slick would be harnessed, borrowed to make things easier. It was more comfortable than lube, apparently, nothing artificial, just more nest, more nest, and Jungkook had smelt his Hyungs smelling of his slick multiple times when he hadn’t even been in the room. 

It's such a fucking- turn on. 

“ Fuck, Hyung,” Someone growls and Jungkook snaps out from his head, acutely aware of how his cheeks are red, how his chest is rising and falling just that little bit quicker. And they’re all- they’re all looking at him. 

Seokjin’s mouth is open just a little bit, Taehyung’s pupils have blown wide, but Namjoon’s, Namjoon’s eyes have dilated. He’s snatching Taehyung’s wash cloth, roughly wiping the shaving cream from his face and stalks forward. 

“Fuck, Hyung, you’ve made him wet.” 

Jungkook whines. He whines and can’t help the way his legs fall open, letting Namjoon sink to his knees in between them, large hands warm on his thighs. 

“Hyung,” He whispers, letting his head fall back against the mirror with a thunk, slouching, “Your shaving, Hyung-” 

“Taehyung-ah can help me afterward,” Namjoon growls, throwing Jungkook’s boxers to the floor, hot air on Jungkook’s inner thighs, “I don’t care about that right now.” 

Jungkook lets out a shuddering breath, a hand knitting harshly into Namjoon’s hair as the beta presses his head in between his thighs, mouth hot and searching, hands holding his legs apart. 

Jungkook can hear Taehyung’s whines, the sounds of Seokjin kissing the other beta softly but he can’t concentrate on that right now, not when tears are gathering in his eyes, not when his cheeks are flushing impossibly hot. 

(Namjoon does need help to finish his shaving, his hands are trembling too much afterward. And yes, he did cut himself, a slight little gash on one of his cheeks. Jungkook sticks a bandaid on it with a cheeky grin, watching as his beta sulks.)

----

Jungkook isn’t sure what has woken him. He had fallen asleep easily - it was always easy to, especially after Yoongi had read to him in a low, quiet voice. It’s become their routine, ever since Yoongi taught him how to read - and now their nestmates like to sit in on it, watch how Jungkook sits, curled in Yoongi’s arms, eyes growing heavy as his fated reads to him. 

And after that, Jungkook is normally babied. Taehyung normally brushes his teeth for him, Seokjin wipes down his face, Namjoon helps him get into his pyjamas. And then he’s clambering into Hoseok’s arms, breathing in that scent of pack alpha, listening as Jimin playfights with Yoongi in the bathroom. Soon, kisses pressed to mouths and cheeks, the shuffling as everyone tries to get comfortable, and Jungkook fell asleep curled to Hoseok’s side, his hands interlocked with Jimin’s, resting on their alphas stomach. 

But now he’s awake. 

And Jungkook isn’t entirely sure why. It’s still nighttime - he can see it through the tiny crack in the thick velvet curtains. It’s dark outside, barely even past midnight, if his internal body clock is correct. So why is he awake?

It’s not like anything has changed. 

Although, he has shifted a bit in the hours of sleep he has gotten. 

Hoseok is still on his back beside him, his arm curled underneath Jungkook’s head - but Jungkook has flipped onto his stomach, cheek resting against the alphas arm, his own arm flung over Hoseok’s stomach. Jimin’s hand is no longer in his own, and he can see that his omega has turned to curl into Namjoon, snoozing away happily. Seokjin is still behind him, breathing lightly, but Jungkook can’t feel him - and over beyond Namjoon, he can see Taehyung and Yoongi curled together, pressed up against the other beta, legs intertwining messily. Almost like a puppy pile. 

So… what’s wrong?

What has woken him up?

Jungkook mumbles to himself, blinking sleepily. His body just feels so.. Heavy. He’s too tired to move, too tired to do anything, really. He should just go back to sleep. He’s not entirely sure he’s really awake-

Click. 

Huh?

Jungkook musters up all the energy he can find and lifts his head, just a little. Neck craning, he twists down a little, looking for the sound. 

Click. 

There it is again! 

His neck is starting to ache, a creak that is growing painful in his spine and Jungkook narrows his eyes, squinting through the darkness. He waits for the sound again, and when it does inevitably come, he tracks it with his eyes and-

It’s… the door?

The… the doorknob?

And the click is the knob hitting the lock mechanism and-

Every muscle in Jungkook’s face drops. His chest grows impossibly tight, body heavy as his mouth instantly dries. His eyes are widening, fear licking its way up his spine as he watches the knob slowly turn again, click as it once again hits the lock. 

Someone-

Someone is twisting the doorknob. 

Someone is trying to get in. Someone is trying to get into his nest room, to get to his pack. 

The horrific realisation is bile in his throat, sweat rolling down his spine. He’s frozen in terror, his heart beating urgently, hammering against his chest, and he can’t draw any air into his lungs. His eyes are stuck on the door, watching the slow turning of the handle, again and again and again and-

Why hasn’t anyone woken up?! He can smell his scent growing sour, distressed, and yet none of his nestmates are moving. 

Jungkook slowly rotates his head a little, wordless and terrified, eyes blown wide, scent growing colder and more sour by the minute and- 

No one moves. No one moves and Jungkook wants to whimper. Wait- wait are they breathing? Wait, he- he can’t see Jimin’s chest moving and- the terror is so much colder now, his heart hammering as panic starts to set in. 

No- no- his nestmates - no they’re fine, they’re fine, they have to be. It’s just- it’s just dark, it’s just a little dark that’s why Jungkook can’t see them breathing and- no, no, they- they can’t be. They’re everything to him. Taught him to read, write, give him everything he’s ever wanted. A single word and they’re taking him places, buying him whatever activity he wants to try out. They love him, they love him and Jungkook loves them and they’re happy, so, so happy, mated and forever and they- they can’t be- 

The tears are brimming in his ears, fat and hot and Jungkook can’t contain the whimper that slips from his mouth as they start to roll down his cheeks. He’s barely let out a sob, scent blooming into something so horrid and-

Something slams over him. It’s a body, he realises with shock, and he’s been jostled on the bed sheets. There’s a hand gripping the sheets beside him, a body cradling over him protectively, shielding him and Jungkook sobs loudly, body clicking out of its frozen hold. 

“Omega?” His pack alpha slurs, eyebrows knitting together as he looks Jungkook over, cradled over him in defence, “Jungkook-ah, what’s wrong, what’s-” 

They’re fine. They’re waking up, all of them - they woke up for him. He can hear Seokjin behind him, trying to talk to him, fingers gripping into his hips and Hoseok is still over him, trying to soothe him. Distantly, he can hear Jimin and Taehyung’s upset whines, the little scuffle as the betas obviously hold them back. 

“Omega,” Hoseok says, firm but soft, “What’s wrong? Did you have a bad dream? Tell alpha, my love. Alpha will make it better-” 

“The,” Jungkook sobs loudly, fingers gripping tightly into Hoseok’s loose top, “The- the door-” He breaks down into hysterical, hitching sobs and Hoseok lowers himself down, nips harshly at his scent gland. It soothes him, his sobs lessening a little as Hoseok’s warm, secure scent washes over him, as Jin loops an arm around his waist, holding him tight. 

“What’s wrong with the door, my mate?” 

“IT-” Jungkook blinks back his tears, whimpering as Hoseok wipes them away softly with a thumb, “Someone- hic- someone was- hic- turning the knob- hic- trying to get- get in and-” 

Hoseok is moving. He’s pulling back, face tight and angry and Jungkook realises in a shock that he’s going to go to the door and someone might be there to hurt him and-

“NO, NO!” Jungkook screams, surging upward and looping his arms around his alpha’s throat. His nails are digging into Hoseok’s shoulder blades, the omega sobbing almost hysterically into his throat. His alpha is trying to soothe him, nuzzling at his scent gland, but Jungkook won’t let go, grasping onto the thought that his alpha will get hurt, he’ll get hurt and-

The door clicks open and Jungkook reels with shock, eyes glossy and scared. Seokjin stands in the doorway, firm and shoulders tense, peering out into the corridor with eyes of thunder. 

“It’s empty.” He calls back after a moment, voice tight, “There’s no one here, Jungkook-ah. No scent either.” He closes the door, clicks the lock back into place. 

“Did you have a bad dream, my love?” Hoseok murmurs, pressing Jungkook down into the sheets - as the omega still refuses to let his vice grip relax - “It’s okay now, it’s not real, it’s-”

“There was someone there!” Jungkook sobs hysterically, throat tightening, “Alpha, believe me, believe me, please-” 

“We believe you, baby,” Jin breathes, sliding back into bed, “Alpha believes you. Pack alpha does.” 

Jungkook lets out a little whimper, but it seems to calm his panic just a little. Enough that he can hear Jimin’s little hitching cries, Taehyung’s whimpers at his obvious distress. He breathes out shakily, relaxes his grip just a little on his alpha, and lets Hoseok pull back a tiny bit. His alpha looks distressed, forehead wrinkled, jawline tense. 

“Come here, little ones,” He murmurs, voice rough, and Yoongi and Namjoon release them, and Taehyung and Jimin ricochet over the bed, smacking into Jungkook hard enough to leave him winded. Jimin’s fingers are curling into his hair, little hitching sobs as the omega feels his distress, and Taehyung is whining in his ear, clutching at him with urgency. 

And Hoseok is above them, nesting them underneath his body, cooing to them. The others press up to either side, encasing them in a ball of protection, of soothing, thickening scents as they try to calm them down. Eventually, it works - Jungkook’s tears dry and he hears the little breaths of Jimin and Taehyung having finally drifted off again. 

But the terror is still there. Tight, vivid. 

He lets out a shaky sigh, whining a little as he feels Hoseok press a kiss to his forehead. 

“Sleep, omega,” His alpha murmurs, scent stressed but warm, “Alpha has you. We all do. I won’t let anything, anyone hurt you.” 

Jungkook closes his eyes. 

“I promise.” 

----

Jungkook just can’t help it. He’d loved the elegance of the picture before, the sophistication of it, and it’s just… so much better now. Still giving off that air, that elegance, but it’s so much more welcoming, belonging. His pack had quickly figured out how much he’d loved to stare at the painting, and had moved a lush couch to press up by a nearby wall. Jungkook had spent many hours curled up there, alone with a blanket, or snuggled with a nestmate, staring at it with a high feeling of satisfaction. 

The painting is of seven. 

Jungkook remembers the many hours they had to sit, pose for the painting to be completed. But it had filled his heart with so much joy, such warmth - that they’d caught him looking at it, the one with six, and instantly, they were whisking them away to have a new one commissioned. 

Jungkook is in the middle. He’s sitting down, lips curling with a soft, happy smile, body melted and relaxed. Jimin is to his left, head resting on his shoulder, body curled into his omega. Taehyung to his right, Jungkook’s hand encased in his own in his lap, fingers intertwined tightly, pressed close. 

Hoseok is directly behind him. Jungkook is leaning back against him, his pack alpha’s hand curled into his hair, eyes possessive and dark. Yoongi is to his left, behind Jimin, a hand on the pack alpha’s shoulder, his other brushing just behind Jimin’s ear. Namjoon, to Hoseok’s right, behind Taehyung, hand on Taehyung’s shoulder, other hand tucked somewhere in the hold of his alphas. And then, finally, Kim Seokjin - standing behind Hoseok - eyes shadowed and possessive, a hand on his pack alpha’s shoulder, his other hidden from view - but Jungkook knows that it was on Yoongi’s hip, holding him secure. 

They’re… beautiful. Seven, together, a pack. 

Jungkook’s heart swells every time he looks at it. 

The old one is tucked away somewhere, hidden behind a thick curtain, left alone in the past. (“We can get rid of it,” Namjoon had told him softly, fingers carding through his mind, “We can burn it, if you’d like. We’re not six anymore, we’re not.”) But Jungkook hadn’t minded, had told them to keep it with a sweet smile. They had been six before they had been seven, and he didn’t want them to try and erase the past to hide that fact. It was alright. More than alright. 

He wraps his arms around his waist, stares up at the painting again. A grand frame, gold, expensive, the seven of them curled together, a pack, a family, mine, mine, mine-

“They certainly invested a lot into a painting.” 

Jungkook jumps, he flinches as though he’s been shot and spins around, arms curled now in a protective stance. There’s- there’s someone beside him, a few steps away, and they utterly reek. It’s not nest, not mate, it’s not his. 

One of the strangers is too close. The overwhelming stench of alpha. 

It makes Jungkook whimper, whine deep in his belly, but he swallows it down, almost paralyzed in fear. 

“W-what?” He’s ashamed of how weak his voice is, how it trembles. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near this man, this stranger, fuck, and his alpha had told him that he too, hadn’t wanted Jungkook near him. Well, it’s not as though Jungkook asked! The scent is overwhelmingly sour, bile on his tongue and Jungkook just feels… unsafe. It isn’t safe here. This man is dangerous. No wonder his alpha was suspicious of them, unsure. Jungkook is too. 

“Bit… pricey, for a simple painting, don’t you think?” 

Jungkook blinks, a certain anger boiling in his stomach. This is a painting of their pack. If anything, it deserves to be expensive, worth just as much as they are. He bristles, tongue sharp. 

“Why does it matter to you?” He demands, feeling awfully protective, “It’s not your painting, why does it matter how much it costs? It’s a painting of my pack.” 

The alpha snorts and Jungkook can’t help the way he recoils, just a little. This stranger is scoffing at his words, disregarding them almost instantly. Why? Why is he so intent to judge their pack to begin with? Jungkook has heard whispers, words passed between his other nestmates, that they’ve seen these strangers snooping, enough so that Hoseok’s jaw clicked with rage, promises of strict words to be passed. 

So why is this man here, poking his nose into Jungkook’s business? Fuck, he’s probably been told to stay away from them, away from the omegas, given the circumstances and yet… 

“You seem to have accepted them pretty easily, considering all.” 

Jungkook falters. He unsurely takes a step back, arms tightening around his waist. He swallows thickly and tries his best to steel a firm, unintimidated voice - “What do you mean?” 

The alpha leans his head back and sighs loudly, before lolling it to the side, eyes narrowed, menacing and connecting directly with Jungkook’s. There’s something so, so wrong with this, so intimidating and threatening and Jungkook bites back another whimper as the alpha clicks his back and straightens. 

“I know how they treated you.” 

Jungkook blinks, his fingernails digging so hard into his arm that he’s sure its drawing blood. What…? What? How they treated him? Yes, they… well. They were dicks to him, quick frankly, but that’s the past now, they’ve all healed and grown past that. Besides, that’s pack business, and despite it not being nice, Jungkook can credit it to helping get them to where they are now. Doesn’t mean it was right, or justified, but he’s got a loving, comfortable pack now, and he wouldn’t change anything for it, so how dare. 

“That’s pack business.” Jungkook snarls, upper lip drawn back, but the alpha only chuckles at him. There’s something that’s only growing darker in his eyes, pitch-black and swallowing. 

“You think they want you?” 

Jungkook eyes narrow, a sharp retort incoming, but the alpha pushes on. 

“They only accepted you because of the impact it would have. Them, bullying a young, unmated omega? Can you think of how that would reflect onto Jung’s future?”

Jung… Hoseok… and he’s… it clicks. He’s royal, isn’t he. Jungkook blinks slowly, fingers curling tighter. 

“They only accepted you because of that. Why would they want another omega anyway? It was only to preserve them. You forced their hand, made them let you in. You don’t belong here.” 

You don’t belong here. 

“You can’t see their eyes when they see you with their packmates. The burning jealousy that simmers there. They hate it, hate you hogging their mate's attention. It’s a shame they’ve let it go on this long, really. Strung you along enough. Wouldn’t be surprised if they disposed of you quietly, left you out to die in the snow. You’re just a hindrance.” 

What? 

“They were fine, happy as six. That’s why they treated you so cruelly - because you don’t belong. You never will. You’re nothing to them, nothing but a disposal waiting to happen. I don’t understand how you’ve gotten so comfortable, how you’ve seen past that. They haven’t changed. They fucking hate you. I’ve seen it.” 

Huh? 

“If I were you, I’d be running. An obligation, being Min’s fated…. That’s all you ever were. They hate you. I’ve heard them say it. You should believe me, I’m working for your best interest here.” 

Best interest? Jungkook’s brow furrows, slowly rolling the invading alpha’s words around his mouth. He- he’s ashamed that he even considered these stranger's words, even for just a second. Well, he’s right about one thing - they did treat him cruelly, back then, but things have changed. 

Because the memories are so vivid, so overpowering. Of just how much his mates worked for his forgiveness. Months on months, sweet, honest words, a slow pace, giving Jungkook all the space he needed, but still trying to help from afar. Owning up to their actions, taking responsibility and grovelling on their knees, literally. Hoseok had even cried in front of him, holding Jungkook’s hand so sweetly. They had treated him so delicately, so afraid to fuck things up again. And then came the sweet dates, the gentle hands, the work, the dedication they put in to get Jungkook to come back, to accept their courting requests. 

They had been so, so gentle. So understanding. Always, always giving him an out, making sure he knew he never had to accept anything, that he could leave at any time. And yet he’d still stepped in, allowed them another chance. And they’ve never made him regret it. His mates have never, never raised their voices at him, never said anything cruel, even in joking form, have never not been honest with him. They’ve been so soft, so gentle, handling him like he’s a butterfly. 

They’ve learned their lesson. Did long ago. Because Jungkook has never, never seen them mistreat a stranger ever again. Not that they did before, but it makes his heart firm a little more regardless. These strangers at their door just further confirms it - his pack is kind. 

His pack is kind and they love him. And Jungkook will be fucking darned if he listens to the words of a stranger over his pack’s actions. Their words, promises supported by their acts, everything they’ve done for him. 

Nope. 

So Jungkook steels himself, shrugs his shoulders back and tries his best to make his voice firm as he speaks. 

“You know nothing about my pack, nor how they feel for me. How dare you. They are my mates, and they view me as such. You’d be best if you’d stay away from me from now on. I won’t tolerate this slander again.” 

With that, Jungkook turns on his heels and hurries away, breathing a little quick. He can hear the alpha chuckling behind him, laughing until the distance between them becomes too great, and it fades to silence. 

Now alone, the omega shivers. He curls his arms around his waist protectively, shuddering in onto himself. 

Now, he could tell his alpha, his mates, and Jungkook knows that the strangers would be gone within the hour. It’s not tolerated, not in the slightest, disrespect against the pack - especially words that are so vulgar, manipulative. If Jungkook wants them gone, they’ll be gone instantly. His pack is always soft for him in that way, and given the harsh words… well, Jungkook is sure there will be something exchanged. 

But… he feels a little… bad. Because Jungkook knows what it’s like to be cast out into the snow, out into the cold. And the storm outside doesn’t seem to be giving up, howling at the windows. If they threw them out now, those strangers would surely die. 

It’s a feeling Jungkook doesn’t wish upon anyone. No one to go and you’re cold, alone, scared. He can’t do that to them, no matter how much that man’s words sting, a little seed of insecurity growing in his chest. Jungkook shakes his head and turns a corner, gnawing on his bottom lip. 

But is… is there some truth there? Not in how his pack sees him, no, Jungkook knows better, but… are they… jealous? Envious when he spends time with other members of the pack? He hadn’t doubted their dynamics before, it seemingly just fell into place perfectly, but… do his mates get upset if he doesn’t monitor time between them? If he hogs one member of the pack, clings to them needily? 

That stings. It stings and there is a glistening warmth behind Jungkook’s eyes, one that he blinks away furiously. 

When he needs answers, there’s always one person he’ll go to. 

He’ll have the answers.

---- 

Jungkook pauses for a moment, hand half raised to knock at the closed door. Normally, he would be able to find his pack out in the open areas of their den, lounging in their living spaces in the face of the looming evening. But since their house is now housing strangers too, less private, Jungkook has found that his packmates instead retreat to more private areas of the house to relax. Hidden studies, tucked away living spaces, their own bedroom. 

Jungkook blinks slowly, looks at his raised fist. Should… should he knock? No, no he… he shouldn’t. 

“You never have to knock, not in your house, baby.” 

He drops his hand slowly, swallowing thickly. Some habits are hard to break, some anxieties a little harder to fight. But, regardless, he reaches out and twists the knob, hearing the door click open. It swings inward and Jungkook steps forward, cautiously poking his head around the edge of the opened door. 

“Hyung?” 

The study is a snug one. It’s the one that Namjoon has mostly claimed as his own, with wide, custom bookshelves carved onto every wall, a long, dark desk pushed up against one wall. It’s a little messy, with stacks of paper and books, but there’s a plush armchair tucked up right next to the window, cozy in a corner. 

And it’s there, in this armchair, legs curled up underneath himself, that Yoongi sits. 

Jungkook’s heart immediately settles in his chest, something warm swelling. 

His beta has instantly looked up from the book perched in his lap, looking toward the direction of his voice at the first and only word that had left his mouth. Jungkook gets to watch with delight as his Hyung's face slowly melts into something soft, tender, lips curving as his fingers pull the book from his lap, sitting it on the edge of the desk pressing next to him. 

“Hi, baby,” Yoongi coos, tiny crinkles forming at the edges of his eyes as his face stretches into a kind smile. Jungkook smiles, a little nervously, one of his knees jiggling as he carefully clicks the door closed behind him, takes a slow step forward into the room. Maybe Yoongi doesn’t sense his nervousness, or maybe he does, which is why he stretches out his arms invitingly, breathing steadily.

Jungkook is more than happy to slowly curl his way into his fated’s lap, feel the warmth of his Hyungs arms curling around him, his cheek pressing into the beta’s collarbones. His own heart is pounding anxiously away in his chest, bottom lip caught in between his teeth, but here, against Yoongi-Hyung’s chest, his beta holding him so, so tight…. Everything feels a little less intimidating. 

“Are you feeling okay?” His Hyung asks softly, fingers brushing over his hip bones, waiting for Jungkook to curl his legs into a more comfortable position, “Your scent is strained, my littlest love.” 

Jungkook nods slowly, tries his best to swallow back his nerves as he twists his fingers into Yoongi’s oversized sweater. It’s warm, comfortable in between his fingers, but it doesn’t really soothe the ticking of his mind. He knows he can ask his pack anything, can ask Yoongi anything especially, but… some small part of him is terrified of what the answer might be. 

Yoongi doesn’t say anything else. It’s as if he knows that Jungkook will speak when he’s ready to, when he’s built up the courage, so instead, his Hyung’s fingers slowly knit into his hair, stroking through the strands. 

With a final, painful swallow, Jungkook manages to croak something out. 

“Hyung, do you-” the words are thick, jumbled over his tongue and he’s not entirely sure he makes sense, “Are you jealous? When I spend time with other packmates- are you jealous of me? Of them? Do I hog nestmates, should I-...” His voice trails away, lip caught between his bottom teeth. 

“Jealous?” Yoongi echoes, slowly curling a strand of Jungkook’s growing hair around his finger. The way he says it, examines it as if the word is such a foreign thing on his tongue makes Jungkook stumble a little, most of that cautious fear washing away. 

“I mean,” He watches Yoongi’s brow furrow prettily, “I think so? At first, maybe?”

Jungkook’s heart drops to his stomach. 

“When you first arrived here… well it was a little strange. Because here I had all these wonderful, wonderful mates and they were, well are, mine, mine, mine and then you came along, in all your endearing shyness, cute smile and… and the universe made you to be mine. Part of me wanted you to only be mine, that you belonged to me only and then… and then after everything happened, and you were musing about joining the pack and… I realise that both things weren’t exclusive.” 

Jungkook’s heart is rising. 

“That you were all mine, mine, mine, and that seeing you all interacting with each other made my heart swell, but not in jealousy, no, in happiness. Contentment. So maybe a little at first, but hey, baby, working out new dynamics in a relationship is always difficult. Now? Now I see you with our nestmates and all I think about is how lucky we, I am. To have you here, smiling, your scent blooming, to just have you.”

There’s a breath, a silence in the air for just a moment and Jungkook feels his chest squeeze, his eyes burning just a little. 

“But besides,” Yoongi pushes on, “Where is this coming from, sweetheart? Has- has something happened to make you uncomfortable? Has someone said something to you? Do I need to-” 

“No, no, Hyung,” Jungkook almost babbles, trying to blink back the tears blooming in his eyes, relieved that his stupid, lingering fears were just that, that the stranger's words weren’t true, “No I just randomly thought it and was curious…”

“Hmmm…” Yoongi doesn’t look convinced, running a thumb over Jungkook’s cheek with the softness of a mate. “If you say so, my love. But we’re fated, alright? You can tell me anything. Anything.” 

“I know,” Jungkook murmurs, voice muffled as Yoongi cuddles him to his chest, kissing his forehead, “I know…” 

“Let me hold you for a while,” His fated murmurs, rocking them sweetly, “I need some more time with my baby.” 

And if Jungkook groggily wakes to being carried a few hours later, time lost to Yoongi’s warmth, curled warmly in Namjoon’s arms whilst he’s carried to bed then… that’s his business. 

----

Yoongi isn’t one to be paranoid. If anything, he prides himself on being one of the most level-headed in their pack. But there’s just something about the people lingering in their house, the strangers, that just rubs him the wrong way. 

And the way Jungkook had approached him the other day? Shaky and teary and very clearly nervous, and the way his body had sagged in relief once Yoongi had reassured him? Yeah, that had just concreted that something here was very, very wrong.

Even now, as his littlest omega lies next to him, stomach pressed to the bed, clearly asleep from the way his eyelashes flutter…. There’s unsettledness in Yoongi’s chest. He reaches out gently, runs a hand down his mate's back and almost preens at the way Jungkook whines softly, shuffles closer to him. 

There’s something wrong. Some sort of tension, and it’s upsetting his mates, his omegas especially, and that’s wrong- 

The quiet click of the door has Yoongi bristling instantly, eyes narrowing as he watches the door to the nesting room slowly push open. His nerves settle though, easing to something gentle as he realises that it’s just Hoseok, standing in the doorway with a strange look on his face - although, it softens a little around the edges when he sees two of his mates on their bed, the happy smell of sleep in the air. 

He steps forward, keeping things quiet, and Yoongi’s eyes flutter shut as his pack alpha’s fingers knit into his hair. 

“There’s something wrong,” Hoseok murmurs lowly and Yoongi purrs, craning into his touch, “Something is unsettled here. I’m going to journey to the house at the back of the property, see if the damage can be fixed. So we can move them out of here.” 

“I’ll come with you.” Yoongi chimes instantly, and Hoseok doesn’t refuse him - just presses a kiss to Jungkook’s cheek and helps his beta up, guiding the both of them to dress warmly before they sneak out of the house. 

The snow is heavy. It’s heavy and it stings at Yoongi’s eyes, sending him shivering back into his scarf as they trek forward. Hoseok is just a dark blur in front of him, slowly fading into the blitzing white - and Yoongi knows he would lose him, he would lose him if their hands weren’t tightly intertwined, hanging between them, his alpha tugging him forward. 

He struggles against the wind, the cold, shivering, eyes locked onto their intertwined hands in front of them. It’ll all be over soon. They’ll be back home, they’ll be back warm, Yoongi just has to bear it, he has to do this, has to do this to make everything right. 

But by the time the silhouette of their small cabin comes into view, his lips are frozen, nose running almost wildly. Yoongi shivers despite his thick winter gear, foolishly feeling the tears that are lining his eyelash line. Hoseok doesn’t really seem to notice his discomfort, his alpha is probably just as cold, and he’s fumbling with the spare key, trying his best to unlock the door. 

After a few tries, it pops open and they both stumble in, trekking snow behind them, teeth chattering. 

“Fuck,” Hoseok rasps, slamming the door behind him, “Fuck, Hyung, are you okay? I know it’s cold, baby, we’ll be done here soon, I promise.” 

Yoongi shivers, watches as his alpha stalks deeper into the cabin. He shoves his hands up underneath his arms, right into his armpits, jogging from foot to foot. The air… it’s oddly still in here. And Yoongi thought it would be colder. The damage should have allowed at least some wind, if not snow in. So, with his brow furrowed, Yoongi steps through the foyer and into the living space, looking around at the still furniture. 

A grandfather clock ticks somewhere. 

They don’t use this cabin much, but it’s still well-kept, the furniture neat and prim. It just smells… stale. Like nothing has happened here, like there is no-

…..

Damage.   

A pin drops.

Yoongi’s eyes are widening, his chest tightening. His hands drop to his sides, eyes slowly scanning around the room. Everything is still, still, and he can smell Hoseok as he enters the room again. Heavy, confused, his alpha breathes out slowly. 

“There…” Yoongi’s voice rings out through the room hauntingly, “There is no damage, is there?” 

“No, there isn’t.” Hoseok says, sounding so, so confused, “There’s nothing wrong with the cabin, it’s as if they didn’t even come here and-” 

His voice drops and their eyes meet. 

Yoongi’s, wide with fear, teary, Hoseok’s wide with realisation, terror. Yoongi can smell the way his alpha’s scent drops, the way it twists violently, the terrified gasp that rips from his alpha’s mouth. 

“The babies.” 

All Yoongi can do is sob, grasp onto Hoseok’s hand as they race for the door. 

----

He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t. But as Jungkook loiters by the closed door, bottom lip caught in between his teeth… something, something in his stomach, his gut is telling him he has to. 

He’s probably going to get scolded later, told off firmly by his Hyungs for invading the stranger's privacy - despite how uncomfortable they might make them feel, invading their private space is never the right thing to do. But Jungkook just can’t help it! There’s something so, so wrong here, and everything in his body is screaming at him to figure out what. 

His mind has been screaming since he woke up an hour ago, Yoongi gone from his bedside, the blankets cold. Jungkook just can’t fight the anxious feeling anymore, can’t fight the unsettle that is building behind his teeth. 

So, with a deep breath, he carefully and quietly unlocks the bedroom door and slips inside. 

Jungkook likes to think they’re good hosts, even to people who practically invaded their territory and forced themselves inside their home, and even if Jungkook is currently invading their space with much intention to find something incriminating…. They’ve welcomed them to an extent, given them a large bedroom with a huge ensuite, fed and clothed them. 

Silently, Jungkook sniffs at the air and peers around the room. It’s a little messy, bed sheets strewn, the backpacks the strangers arrived with thrown messily in one corner. With a soft huff, Jungkook swiftly moves toward the cracked bathroom door, heart in his throat. 

There is guilt, ladelled heavy and thick in his chest. He shouldn’t be doing this, it’s going against all his morals and Jungkook knows that if he doesn’t find anything, he’ll be kept up at night by the suffocating guilt. But for now, he knows he has to protect his pack, his nest, his mates, and if breaking into their room shall do that, then…. 

He plants a palm against the door and softly pushes it open, bristling at the sharp scent. The bathroom itself isn’t too messy, but… there’s a part of Jungkook, right up near his heart, that aches with tarnish. Strangely though, there are shampoo bottles on the bathtub, a bar of soap that definitely isn’t the packs. Strange, how these people would simply be carrying toiletries around with them - when they surely just got lost on a hike or something. 

Shaking his head, Jungkook moves a little deeper into the bathroom, eyes raking over the bottles scattered over the counter. His eyes catch onto one of the counters drawers, and it’s cracked open just a slither, and for some reason, there’s something urgent tugging in Jungkook’s gut. So, with a heavy swallow, he slowly hooks a finger around the edge and tugs the drawer open. 

There are a few bottles in there, square and rather bulky. Jungkook doesn’t remember his pack having anything of the sort, so he carefully picks a bottle up with furrowed brows. His knees are shaking, fingers fumbling as he twists at the cap, and slowly, he lifts it to his nose. 

It’s..-

Numb. 

Numb and beta and it’s a scent so, so familiar, and it hits Jungkook like a freight train. This is one of the scents of the strangers. One of the betas. But a scent can’t be in a fucking bottle which means- 

He stares at the bottle with his heart picking up to a pounding rate. 

This is a scent blocker. They have fucking scent blockers, they’re using beta scent changers. Changing their scent to that of a betas and why would they need to do that? 

Jungkook’s mind is racing, sweat dripping down his forehead as unfiltered terror rips through him. They would need to change their scents if they weren’t here innocently. If they wanted to try and downplay their scents, if they were here for something, someone, if they were all-

Alphas. 

The bottle is smashing into the floor, the liquid blocker gushing between the tiles as the glass rings out loudly, Jungkook’s pupils trembling. His head turns slowly, catching sight of his own reflection - his panicked, dilated eyes connecting with his own. 

They’re not-

He-

He has to tell his Hyungs. He has to tell them now. Jungkook has to tell them that they’re lying, that they’re probably in danger, that these people in their home aren’t innocent at all, that they’re lying, lying. That they probably didn’t get lost in the first place, they came here for a reason, one that Jungkook doesn’t know, but unsafe, unsafe, nest, nest, nest-

He bursts out into the cold corridor, teeth chattering and eyes wild. 

There’s something dreadfully, dreadfully wrong. The air is too cold as Jungkook stumbles down the corridor, trying his best to swallow his omegan chirps, his instinctual sounds that want him to call out, warn his mates. He needs to find them, needs to tell them, but the air feels stale, clammy on his tongue and he stumbles to a stop. 

There’s something wrong. 

Terror is vibrant, flashing through Jungkook’s veins as he rushes forward, eyes blurring, and the stale lessens a little, lessens into something milkier and Jungkook almost sobs in relief. Almost cries out as he sees Jimin standing there, face stretched in confusion, brow furrowed. 

“Baby?” Jimin asks and Jungkook barrels to him, smashing into his omega with desperation. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Do you know where the Hyungs are? I-” 

“They’re lying to us, Hyung,” Jungkook forces out, rushed and desperate, “They’re using blockers, Hyung, they’re alphas, they’re all-” 

“What are you talking about-?”

“The strangers,” Jungkook hisses, the tears flowing down his cheeks now, “They’re using blockers! They came here prepared, they’re lying to us, I- I think they’re here to hurt us and I don’t know why but they’ve lied, lied-!” 

Jimin’s face has changed. Changed into something pale and frightened and his grip on Jungkook’s arm has tightened. It’s when he blinks the tears back, sucks in a rasping breath, that he realises Jimin is looking over his shoulder, pupils trembling. 

No. 

“Let’s go to our room-” Jimin whispers, but his voice is wavering, lips wobbling as he tugs Jungkook closer, tries to usher the omega in front of him. But Jungkook can’t help it, can’t think over the cold licks of fear - and he looks over his shoulder. 

An alpha stands there. Broad, dark, staring at them. Blocking the entire corridor, just… staring. 

They know. 

Jimin is hurrying him forward, trying to control their scents, stop their emotions from spiking, but Jungkook can’t breathe. He can’t breathe as they start to run, Jimin’s breathing shaky and urgent and where, where are their Hyungs?!

Where are they?! They should be here, they should be here protecting them. Jungkook's mind is screaming at him, closing in on him, the walls are growing tighter and tighter or maybe that's just his lungs and-

“Watch out!” Jimin yelps suddenly, fingers grabbing at him, and a door is slamming open, Jungkook stumbling as Jimin crashes into him. Someone- someone, he realises in a blur, had charged at them from a joining corridor and Jimin had grabbed at a door, tried to get them out of the way, pushed them through and now-

Now a blank wall greets them. 

Jungkook can’t breathe. It feels like the world is closing in on him, sweat running down his back and he doesn’t understand why his Hyungs, why his alphas, betas haven’t arrived to save them yet. Their scents are spiking, sour and upset and Jungkook can’t breathe. All he can feel is Jimin in front of him, trying to shield him, pushing them away from the door with a terrified yet protective hiss. 

His hearing whistles back in, relieving his heavy, hitching breaths, the panic, Jimin’s loud, frightened sounds as he presses them right back into the furthest wall, trying his best to cover Jungkook’s body with his own. 

There are two alphas in the doorways. 

Big, bold, dark. 

They’re blocking the exit, all traces of their past beta identities stripped. 

They know. They know and they’ve cornered them, they’ve cornered them and their Hyungs aren’t coming. The realisation is ice down Jungkook’s spine, horror in his chest, bile in his throat as his fingers curl around Jimin’s elbows, whimpering. 

What have they done to their mates?

“What have you done to our mates?!” Jimin yells shrilly, almost reading Jungkook’s mind, and the omega wants to compliment his mate for seemingly holding at least some stance. For not being a trembling, whimpering mess like Jungkook. For trying to protect, puff himself up. 

One of the alphas laughs. A loud, grating, ugly sound that makes Jungkook sob, squeeze his eyes shut. 

“I wouldn’t worry about them. You’ll see them soon - I’m sure you’ll be enough to tempt him to where we want him.” 

Who? What? Why? 

“Why is this happening?” Jungkook whimpers under his breath, squeaking as Jimin presses back against him further, protective and shaking, hissing loudly as the alphas slowly prowl into the room. He doesn’t know what they want, or why, or what they’re going to do to them, or what this is all about and where- where is his alpha-?! 

Everything is getting so much tighter. His lungs are squeezing, his eyes are blurring over and the entire world is tunnel-visioning. All Jungkook can hear is the pounding of his own heartbeat, all he can feel is the rough scrape of Jimin being dragged away from him. And then he can faintly hear yells, of Jimin shouting something, whimpering in pain, but everything is blurry, his legs are giving out underneath him, the floor is painfully hard. 

Everything hurts.

Everything hurts and Jungkook is alone. 

“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HIM!” His brain screams, or maybe it’s Jimin, voice poisonous and furious and so, so afraid, the sound of his omega fighting, trying to claw his way back to Jungkook and the world is collapsing. 

No one is coming for him. 

Jimin is gone, screaming, crying, fighting. 

Jungkook is- 

Fingers, rough, dirty, callous, grasping at his chin, lifting his face up and Jungkook can’t breathe. He sobs loudly, his chest restricting until it feels like his ribs are cracking, and his entire body is shaking as this alpha, this stranger stares at him harshly, mouth quirking into something menacing. 

“So you’re the baby breeding bitch, huh?” The man spits, teeth clicking as he smirks and a tear rolls down Jungkook's cheek as he cries out loudly, hands curling into fists and he squeezes his eyes closed. 

“DON’T FUCKING- DON’T TOUCH- GET AWAY FROM HIM!” Jimin howls, urgent and desperate and panic-stricken and the alpha howls as his thumb buries into his eye, but it hurts as he’s slammed into the ground, Jungkook’s cries loud in his eyes and he has to- he has to get to him- mine, mine, he- he has to- his mate!

It’s all ending. 

The world. 

Fingers on his chin. 

Jungkook can’t breathe. 

He’s dying. 

Dying. 

Dying. 

They’re all he ever wanted. All Jungkook wanted was to live with his Hyungs, to be happy and mated and comfortable and now… now- 

The world is splintering. 

At least, that’s what it sounds like from behind Jungkook’s closed eyes, but the fingers are gone from his face, his chin falling to his chest as he sobs, curls in on himself. The room is loud, it’s loud but muffled like cotton and Jungkook squeezes his eyes closed so tightly that it hurts. 

Maybe, maybe his mind is spiralling into delusions. Maybe Jungkook is so desperate that his body is hallucinating, in between his hyperventilating, the snarls, the crashes, the screams as someone roars. Maybe, maybe. Jungkook doesn’t know, all he can feel is the tears rolling down his cheeks, the hitch of his own chest and it hurts and-

“HOSEOK, DON’T!” 

His eyes snap open. 

Red. Fingers, hovering just in front of his face, a hand, stretching for him. But it’s not malicious, not foreign - even as blood slides in between the fingers, down the tanned wrist. Slowly, with a whine, Jungkook trails down the arm, up to where his alpha’s eyes are dilated, angry, protective slits, jaw twitching. 

“Don’t-” The person calls again, and it’s Yoongi, Yoongi, Jungkook can feel him close as his chest shakes, “Don’t-” His voice is trembling, “Please don’t get blood on him, Seokie, don’t get blood on our pretty omega.” 

The hand quivers. Jungkook sobs softly as Hoseok’s jaw tightens. His alpha is here. His alpha is here. His alpha is here and he protected him and he's hurt, he's hurt, but Jungkook's head is throbbing, throbbing, and he just wants, needs someone to hold him-

“Yoongi, please-” 

Yoongi is on him. Jungkook can feel his hands, can smell Jimin, is being pulled to his feet but the world is so, so blank. 

“Close your eyes, my love,” His beta murmurs shakily, scooping him up, holding him close, “That’s it, that’s it,” And they’re out of the room, Jimin stumbling next to him, blood running over his upper lip, one cheek bruising. 

Jungkook reaches out a hand with a whimper, grasps at one of his omega's earlobes. 

Close. 

Close.

Need to be close. 

“I’m going to find your Hyungs, Taehyungie,” Yoongi is babbling, chest heaving and voice watery, “And I’m going to get you babies a nice, warm bath, okay? Okay? I’m sorry we were so late, my babies, Hyung has you, Hyung-” 

Everything fades away and Jungkook closes his eyes. 

----

Jungkook can’t help the little shiver that his body does when Yoongi slowly rakes his fingers through his hair, slowly massaging the bubbles of shampoo deeper into his scalp. Jimin is behind him, snug against him, a palm pressed flat to his belly, seemingly half-sleeping. 

The bath water is nice, warm to his shaking limbs, soothing to his adrenaline-draining mind. 

They’re here. They’re here, in the bathroom, in the bathtub filled with bubbles, both omegas curled together nude with Yoongi slowly and methodically switching between them to wash their hair, gently dab cleanser onto their noses. 

The others, they’re here too - and it’s lucky they are, because their presence is truly the only reason why Jungkook managed to catch his breath, stop his hysterical crying, calm his heart rate before he had passed out again. 

Namjoon, sitting limp, leaning against the tub, a hand occasionally sneaking into the bath water to grasp at Jungkook’s hands. Taehyung, sitting on the counter, head resting against the mirror, eyes closed. Seokjin, shirtless, slowly dabbing cotton against his chest, eyes periodically switching between the locked door and his mates, lingering on the omegas in the bathtub. 

Jungkook knows what happened now. They had explained to him, once Yoongi had managed to get them all into the bathroom, locked the door behind them and cuddled them all together, scenting until the omegas had stopped hyperventilating. 

They had drugged them, taken them out. Namjoon had gone down fairly easily, because their beta is such a sweetheart, and maybe a little naive, but who wouldn’t be when you were offered a cup of simple tea? A few sips later and Namjoon had been growing dizzy, sinking to the floor. It had been too late to warn the others and he had cried whilst saying how helpless he had felt. 

Taehyung was a bit feistier. There’s a purple bruise blooming across his cheek to atone to that, fingerprints staining his shoulders. They’d pressed a cloth to his mouth, he’d said, and he’d tried his best to fight back, but betas can’t rival alphas in physical strength. 

And then Seokjin. Their poor alpha looks the worst. Scratches and bruises all across his torso, dark bruises around his throat, blooming across his cheeks. Seeing him for the first time, bleary and overprotective, Jungkook had sobbed, clung at him with urgency. It had taken all three of them to take him down. He didn’t stand a chance against three alphas. And then they were all gone, all out except for the lingering two omegas in the household - with their pack alpha and beta being out in the snow, piecing the puzzle together. 

But they’re here now. They’re here now and Seokjin’s eyes linger on Jimin’s bloodied, but now dried nose, the tear streaks on his cheeks. It’s still quite blurry, but Jungkook knows Jimin fought for him. Whilst he sat and cried and was useless his omega had fought, fought viciously to try to get to him, blood underneath his fingernails. 

“But we’re all here now, all safe,” Yoongi murmurs, as if reading his thoughts, carefully cupping his cheek, “We’re here. Safe.” 

“Where’s-” Jungkook’s voice is croaky with lingering emotion, “Alpha?” 

Yoongi’s eyes soften and Seokjin rumbles somewhere in his chest. Namjoon’s hand is clutching at his own again. 

“Hoseok-ah went to… deal with some things. Alpha went to sort things out and he took…. Took them with him. They’re gone, my loves. Alpha will be back soon, he will, he would never, could never stay away from his omegas.” 

Jungkook is sated with that answer, even if his slow mind ticks with worry. He closes his eyes, feels Jimin press a kiss behind his ear. Hears the rustle of Taehyung sliding off the counter, moving closer. Soon, soon they’ll be out of the bath and into the nest. And it will be warm, and safe, and them, and them. 

Us. 

----

Jungkook paces by the door, chewing on his nails. His eyes flicker back up to the stained glass, the thick wood, and return back to his shoes as he begins pacing again. 

It’s been scarce a week since Hoseok left. Since those strangers disappeared without a single trace, scraped from the house. Jungkook isn’t sure if any of them left alive, if his alpha spared any of them. They didn’t deserve it, not with what they assumed they intended to do. But there’s still something unsettled in his chest, a desperate urge to have his pack alpha back in his nest, back home where he belongs. 

Taehyung watches him pace from the staircase, chin resting on a hand. They’ve all stuck closer lately, hidden away in rooms, always in twos or threes or six. Clinging to one another, Seokjin jumpy and anxious, snarling at every shadow. Poor Namjoon can’t even look at the kettle without shuddering. 

But it will all be right soon. 

“ People from the court,” Jungkook had heard Yoongi whispering to Seokjin one night, as they’d presumed who those strangers were. “ You know how Seokie doesn’t want to go back.” 

People from the royal court, perhaps those below them. Whatever is happening with Hoseok’s claim, someone had obviously got tired of waiting for him to return, to make a decision, had tried to force his hand into coming back to the royal scene. Their solution? Probably to take Jungkook, Jimin. Use the omegas to lure him in, a hostage situation. Any of his mates probably would have worked, but the omegas especially - seeing the extent of how smitten the pack is with him, Jimin. Coming down from their broken heats was probably just a bonus for these people, another way to add to Hoseok’s urgency after they were taken. 

But they weren’t. 

They’re safe. They’re safe and Jimin is upstairs, napping in their nest, and Jungkook is waiting by the door, waiting for his alpha to come home. He’ll come home any moment now, Jungkook can feel it and-

“Jungkook-ah?” Yoongi calls from the kitchen and immediately, like a hound to a scent, Jungkook turns in that direction, instantly beginning to walk down the corridor. He's been hypser-fixating on things lately, mostly the front door, but it's quite easy to redirect him. It's almost laughable how moppy Jungkook is, how high-strung he feels, something tight in his stomach. There's something just.. weird, something he can't quite put his finger on. But he's unsettled from Hoseok being away, from his pack alpha being gone, so that must be it. 

Cold air on the back of his neck. The creak of a heavy door opening, the hush of fluttering snowflakes and-

Jungkook’s eyes widen. 

He spins, heart in his mouth and Taehyung is stumbling to his feet, trilling loudly in something instinctually beta, and it’s him, it’s him, standing there in a thick coat that he’s pulling from his body and there are lines of ageing on his face but Jungkook is running, running, running-! 

He smashes into his alpha, barrelling him backward a few steps, barely noticing the closing front door. All he can focus on is Hoseok’s strong scent, his warm arms around his body, the way he buries his nose into his omegas neck and rumbles, nips at him like he’s been gone for years, starved of him. He's here, he's here, and something clicks in Jungkook's stomach, in his mind. Like a glassy, smooth layer of honey is dripping over him, soothing his anxieties. It's all so right, so right. His body is draining of tension, falling limp. 

“You’re back, you’re back-” Jungkook is saying and it’s all blurring together - Yoongi’s happy voice near them, Taehyung kissing Hoseok’s cheek and he can hear Namjoon rousing Seokjin upstairs and happy, happy, happy, happy and- 

“ Oh.” 

“Huh?” Jungkook blinks, looking up at Hoseok. The alpha is staring down at him with wide, dilated eyes, his tongue snaking out over his bottom lip harshly. He would be foolish not to realise the shift in the mood, the way his alpha's expression changes in a moment. 

“Oh, baby,” Hoseok whispers and Jungkook is so, so sweetly confused, something warm pooling in his belly. 

“Hyungie?”

“Oh sweetheart,” his alpha croons, cupping his cheek, “Omega, you’re going into heat.” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

He’s safe. 

He’s safe. 

And Jimin is at the top of the stairs, chirping for him, asking are you there, are you there, it’s starting, it’s starting, and Jungkook chirps back I’m here, I’m here, it’s starting, it’s starting. And his alphas arms are so warm around him, carrying him up the stairs, up toward his nest, the rest of his pack following with their scents so, so happy. 

Safe. 

Jungkook knows just how far his pack would go for him. It’s soothing, it’s soothing, he thinks, as he bites at the expanse of Hoseok’s tanned throat, to know that his alpha would kill for him. 

Safe, safe, they’re all here. 

Home. 

And Jungkook let's go, falls into the warm and soothing embrace of his mates. 

His.