Archive of Our Own ^beta

The bathroom was too warm. Too quiet.

Jin's reflection stared back at him from the gold-edged mirror, hollow-eyed and pale under the dim lighting. The dark marble countertop was cool against his palms as he braced himself, the pregnancy test lying between his trembling fingers like a verdict.

Pregnant.

The words echoed in his skull, sharp and suffocating.

No. No, not now—

His breath came too fast, his vision tunneling. The scent of bergamot soap turned cloying, mixing with the salt-tang of sweat still clinging to his skin from rehearsal. His muscles ached from fourteen-hour days—recording vocals until his throat was raw, drilling choreography until his knees threatened to buckle, sitting through endless production meetings with eyes so dry they burned.

They’d just wrapped two weeks in Prague filming their new lead single’s MV, jet-lagged and running on caffeine and sheer willpower. The album was so close to finished—mixing, mastering, last-minute lyric changes bleeding into dawn. The constant back and forth and they subbed songs in and out almost on the hour. The tour logistics were a monster of their own: setlists, costumes, pyro cues, stage design, choreographing and stage mapping, the constant pressure of getting it right because this wasn’t just a comeback.

This was their legacy.

And now—

This.

A fractured sound escaped him. His knees hit the tile, the impact rough on his knees. The test slipped from his fingers, clattering against the marble.

How?

They’d been careful. But exhaustion made them reckless—that night in Berlin after the encore, Namjoon’s rut hitting early, both of them too tired to think, too hungry for comfort to care. Jin’s omega had purred yes, yes, mine as Namjoon pressed him into the sheets, teeth scraping his bonding mark—

The door creaked open.

Namjoon stood frozen in the doorway, his broad shoulders blocking the fluorescent hallway light. His scent—cedar and damp earth—spiked with alarm.

“Hyung?”

Jin couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. His pulse roared in his ears.

Namjoon’s gaze dropped to the test.

Silence.

Then—

“Oh.”

A whisper. A prayer.

Jin’s control shattered.

“We can’t—” His voice broke, hands fisting in his hair. “The tour—the album—we’ve spent so much time working this, and now—”

Namjoon was on the floor in an instant, gathering Jin against his chest. His calloused hands cradled Jin’s face, thumbs smearing tears across his cheeks.

“Breathe,” he murmured, his own voice unsteady. “Just breathe.”

Jin shook his head, his omega howling with fear. “The schedules—the press—what do we tell people? What do we tell Bang PD?”

Namjoon’s grip tightened. His scent wrapped around them, warm and grounding. “We’ll figure it out.”

“How?” Jin choked out. “We’re already—fuck—we’re already stretched so thin—”

Namjoon pressed their foreheads together. His breath was ragged. “Remember Reclaim? When we thought the world would end if anyone knew?”

Jin’s chest ached.

”We don’t have to be perfect. We just have to be us.”

Namjoon’s lips brushed his temple. “This is us, hyung. Messy. Exhausted. Alive.”

Jin’s breath hitched.

And then—

He broke.

Sobs wracked his body, the weight of it all crashing down—the fatigue, the fear, the dizzying, terrifying joy curled beneath his ribs. Namjoon held him through it, his alpha rumbling low and steady, their scents tangling—honey and cedar, citrus and earth—until the storm passed.

💜

The studio smelled like vanilla-scented candles and the warm, toasted sugar of Hoseok’s caramel latte left abandoned on the desk. The air hummed with the low thrum of the final track playing through the speakers—Forever, Yoongi’s last addition to the album, the one he’d stayed up three nights straight perfecting.

Jimin was curled into Hoseok’s side on the couch, his socked feet tucked under Taehyung’s thigh, fingers idly twisting a loose thread on Jungkook’s sleeve. Jungkook, half-asleep, had his head pillowed on Taehyung’s shoulder, his breathing slow and even. The room was bathed in the golden glow of the sunset filtering through the blinds, painting them all in honeyed light.

It was rare—this quiet. This peace. Weeks of frantic recording, choreography drills, and sleepless nights had finally culminated in this: the album finished, the tour preparations locked in, and for the first time in months, time to just be.

Yoongi leaned back in his chair, eyes closed as the last notes of the track faded into silence. His fingers tapped absently against the armrest, the platinum band on his thumb catching the light. “That’s it,” he murmured. “No more changes.”

Hoseok sighed, content, his fingers carding through Jimin’s hair. “It’s perfect.”

Taehyung hummed in agreement, his free hand reaching out to lace with Jungkook’s where it rested on his knee. “Sounds like home.”

The door creaked open.

Yoongi’s eyes snapped open.

Jin stood in the doorway, Namjoon a solid presence behind him. The room’s warmth seemed to stutter, the golden light dimming as if clouds had passed over the sun. Jin’s fingers were clenched in the fabric of Namjoon’s hoodie, his knuckles white. His eyes were red-rimmed, the evidence of tears not completely erased, and his scent—usually so bright with citrus and honey—was muted, buried under the heavy cedar and damp earth of Namjoon’s alpha.

Yoongi’s stomach dropped.

Jimin sat up first, his omega instantly alert, his scent spiking with concern. “Hyung?”

Jin’s breath hitched.

Namjoon’s hand settled at the small of Jin’s back, steadying, but his jaw was tight, his own scent thick with something unreadable—protective, possessive, afraid.

Hoseok was on his feet in an instant, his beta instincts flaring, his caramel-sweet scent wrapping around them in a silent offer of comfort. “What’s wrong?”

Jin opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

Yoongi stood slowly, his chair scraping against the floor. He didn’t need to ask. The way Namjoon’s fingers flexed against Jin’s back, the way Jin’s free hand drifted unconsciously to his stomach—

Oh.

Taehyung’s breath caught. Jungkook blinked awake, his instincts prickling as he felt the tension in the room, his gaze darting between them.

Jimin made a soft, wounded noise in the back of his throat. “Hyung,” he whispered, his voice breaking.

Jin’s shoulders trembled.

Namjoon’s alpha rumbled, low and steady, his scent thickening, wrapping around Jin like a shield. “We’re—” His voice cracked. “We’re having a pup.”

Silence.

Then—

Hoseok launched himself at them, his arms wrapping around Jin’s shoulders, his scent exploding with joy. “Oh my god—”

Jimin wasn’t far behind, his smaller frame crashing into Jin’s side, his scent sweetening with tears. “I’m gonna spoil them so bad—”

Taehyung and Jungkook stumbled over each other in their haste, Jungkook’s deep, woodsy alpha scent mingling with Taehyung’s bright sweetness in excitement as they crowded in.

Yoongi stayed where he was, his chest tight. He met Namjoon’s gaze over the tangle of limbs, the unspoken words hanging between them— Are you okay?

Namjoon’s lips quirked, just slightly, his eyes softening. We will be.

Yoongi exhaled. Then he crossed the room in three strides and yanked Jin into a hug, his nose pressing into Jin’s shoulder, his scent—burnt sugar and coffee—blending with the others. “Idiot,” he muttered, but there was no heat in it.

Jin laughed, wet and shaky, his hands gripping Yoongi’s shirt. “Yeah.”

The studio was too small for seven grown men, but they made it work, clinging to each other, their scents tangling—cedar and citrus, caramel and florals, coffee and honey—until it was impossible to tell where one began and the other ended.

Outside, the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of pink and gold.

The album was finished.

The tour loomed.

And somewhere, beneath the hum of the studio equipment and the weight of the world—

A new heartbeat echoed theirs.

Yoongi pulled back first, clearing his throat. “Okay, enough crying. We’re celebrating.”

Hoseok whooped, already reaching for his phone. “I’m ordering everything on the menu.”

Jimin wiped his eyes, grinning. “And soju.”

Namjoon groaned. “Absolutely not—”

Jin elbowed him, his smile brighter than it had been in weeks. “Absolutely yes.”

Taehyung threw an arm around Jungkook’s shoulders. “To the best uncles in the world!”

Jungkook beamed, his cheeks flushed. “I’m teaching them all the dances.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, but his chest was warm, his alpha purring in contentment. He saved the file with a decisive click.

Forever (Final Master).wav

“Done,” he said softly.

Jin exhaled, leaning into Namjoon’s side.

And just like that—

The next chapter began.

14 weeks

The stadium air was thick with the scent of rain-soaked grass and the sharp tang of freshly polished stage flooring. Rehearsal lights cut through the lingering morning mist, casting long shadows as the seven of them moved through the opening number, their footsteps echoing in the cavernous, empty arena.

Jin’s breath came steady, controlled, even as the choreography pulled at muscles that had begun to protest in new ways. Four months had softened the sharp edges of his panic, replaced by a quiet, stubborn determination. His hoodie—Namjoon’s hoodie, always Namjoon’s, these days—hung loose over the gentle curve of his stomach, still easily hidden beneath layers if he moved just right.

"Fire" blared through the speakers, Hoseok’s voice counting them in as they hit the first formation. Jin pivoted on his heel, his body moving on muscle memory even as his instincts screamed at him to slow down, be careful—

A hand caught his elbow.

Namjoon.

His alpha’s scent—cedar and damp earth, always so steady—wrapped around him before his voice did. “Easy,” he murmured, low enough that the others wouldn’t hear over the music. His thumb brushed the inside of Jin’s wrist, just once. I’m here.

Jin exhaled, nodding, and let Namjoon adjust his stance, his grip lingering a second too long.

Across the stage, Yoongi watched them, his dark eyes unreadable. He’d taken to hovering these days, his alpha instincts sharper than the rest, his protectiveness a silent, constant thing. He didn’t comment, just tilted his chin— You good? —and Jin rolled his eyes, flipping him off half-heartedly.

Yoongi smirked. Yeah, you’re fine.

The music cut abruptly.

“Hold!” Hoseok’s voice rang out, bright and commanding. He bounced on his toes at center stage, his beta energy relentless even at nine in the morning. “Jungkook-ah, your turn—left foot on the mark, not the right—”

Jungkook groaned, dragging a hand through his sweat-damp hair. “It’s one step—”

“And you’ve missed it three times,” Hoseok shot back, grinning.

Jimin, ever the peacemaker, slung an arm around Jungkook’s shoulders, his omega scent sweet with amusement. “He’s just mad because you’re out-dancing him these days.”

Hoseok gasped, clutching his chest. “Yah!”

Taehyung, sprawled on the stage floor where he’d dramatically collapsed after the last run, lifted his head. “Can we eat now? I’m dying.”

Jin’s stomach growled on cue.

Seven pairs of eyes snapped to him.

Silence.

Then—

Yoongi was already moving, digging through his bag for the snack stash he’d started carrying specifically for this reason. Hoseok abandoned Jungkook mid-lecture to rummage in his own bag. Jimin produced a protein bar from somewhere, because of course he did.

Namjoon just sighed, long-suffering, and handed Jin the banana he’d been saving for himself.

Jin took it, grinning. “You’re all ridiculous.”

Jungkook pouted. “Hyung, I’m hungry too—”

“You’re not growing a whole person,” Taehyung informed him solemnly, as if this was news.

Jungkook blinked. “...Fair.”

The laughter that followed was warm, easy, right—the kind that came from years of shared exhaustion and triumph and love. Jin let it wash over him, leaning into Namjoon’s side as he peeled the banana.

They hadn’t told the world yet. Wouldn’t, not until after the first few shows, not until they were sure Jin’s body could handle the strain. But here, now, in this empty stadium with the dawn light creeping over the seats—

It didn’t matter.

They knew.

And that was enough.

💜

The dressing room was chaos.

Costumes were strewn over every available surface, half-empty water bottles littered the floor, and someone (Taehyung) had started a game of sticky-note darts on the mirror. Jin sat in the middle of it all, his feet propped up on Namjoon’s lap, letting the pack’s energy buzz around him.

Jimin was braiding Jungkook’s hair with far more concentration than the task warranted. Hoseok was humming under his breath as he adjusted his in-ears. Yoongi was scribbling in his notebook, though Jin suspected he was just pretending to work to avoid being roped into whatever nonsense Taehyung was plotting.

Namjoon’s fingers pressed gently into the arch of Jin’s foot, his touch firm and grounding. “Tired?”

Jin hummed, closing his eyes. “Mmm. But the good kind.”

Namjoon’s scent softened, warm and content.

A knock at the door.

Bang PD stepped in, his sharp eyes sweeping over the room before landing on Jin. “You’re cleared for the first three shows,” he said without preamble. “After that, we reassess.”

A beat of silence.

Then—

Taehyung whooped, launching himself at Jin. “Yes!”

Jungkook wasn’t far behind, his arms wrapping around both of them. “We’re gonna kill it—”

Hoseok was already vibrating with excitement. “I’m adding extra flair to the choreo—”

“No,” Yoongi and Namjoon said in unison.

Jimin just grinned, pressing a kiss to Jin’s temple. “You’re gonna be amazing.”

Jin laughed, bright and unguarded, his hand drifting to his stomach.

Yeah.

They all were.

💜

The first notes of Not Today exploded through the stadium, sixty thousand ARMY bombs igniting like stars.

Jin grinned, breathless, as the crowd’s roar washed over him.

Namjoon’s hand found his in the dark, squeezing once.

Ready?

Jin squeezed back.

Always.

And then—

The music swallowed them whole.

 20 Weeks

The clinic smelled like antiseptic and the faint floral undertones of the lavender oil the nurse had dabbed on Jin’s temples when he’d first winced at the cold gel on his stomach. The paper gown crinkled under his fingers as he lay back, Namjoon’s hand a warm, grounding weight in his.

Eight shows into their Asia tour, and they’d rearranged their entire schedule to fly back to Seoul for this appointment. The members had insisted—“One more checkup before we cross oceans,” Hoseok had said, his attempts at calm barely masking his worry.

The transducer pressed against Jin’s skin, and the screen flickered to life—their pup, curled tight, heartbeat steady.

Then the doctor’s fingers stilled.

“Placenta previa,” she said gently, pointing to the shadow near the base of Jin’s womb.

Namjoon’s grip turned vice-like.

Jin’s breath stuttered.

“No more choreography,” the doctor continued. “Minimal exertion. And absolutely no—”

“Tour,” Namjoon finished, his voice rough.

The silence that followed was deafening.

“We’ll tell the pack after the show.”

Jin agreed with a small nod as he hugged himself to Namjoon as they left the room. Mr Lee quickly joined them as he carefully escorted them to the waiting car at the back of the hospital.

💜

The green room smelled like nervous sweat, herbal tea, and the faintest hint of Taehyung’s floral-caramel omega scent—thick with worry as he fussed with the collar of Jin’s loose-fitting stage outfit. The fabric was softer than usual, designed to accommodate the gentle swell of his stomach without drawing attention. Not that it mattered now.

Jin took a slow breath, his lungs pressing uncomfortably against the weight of his diaphragm. He’d noticed it weeks ago—the way his breaths came shorter, the way his high notes required more effort. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, not even to himself.

Namjoon stood beside him, his alpha scent a steady anchor of cedar and damp earth, though his fingers tapped an uneven rhythm against his thigh. The others were already gathered—Yoongi leaning against the makeup counter with his arms crossed, Hoseok perched on the arm of the couch, Jimin and Jungkook sitting cross-legged on the floor, Taehyung hovering at Jin’s elbow like a nervous shadow.

“We need to talk,” Jin said quietly.

The room stilled.

Yoongi’s gaze sharpened. “How bad is it?”

Jin exhaled. “I can perform tonight. Seated, mostly. But—” He hesitated, his fingers flexing against his knees. “I don’t have the lung capacity I usually do. The baby’s taking up space. I can’t hit my lines the same way. My placenta is low and where the puppy is sitting is causing a lot of strain on my pelvis. It’s bad,” yet, the word lingered despite never being uttered, “but we caught it, we can mitigate and keep an eye on things.”

A beat of silence.

Then—

Jimin’s omega whined softly in the back of his throat before he could stop it. He scrambled to his feet, his floral scent spiking with protectiveness. “Hyung, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Jin interrupted, firm. “This is our last show before… before everything changes. I’m not missing it.”

Taehyung’s fingers twisted in the hem of his own shirt, his scent souring with distress. “But what if you—what if something—”

“The doctor cleared him for one show,” Namjoon cut in, his alpha voice leaving no room for argument. “Seated. No choreo. And we adjust.”

Jungkook’s instincts kicked in, his rich-warm scent wrapping around them like a balm. “We’ll cover your lines,” he said, voice steady. “Jiminie-hyung and I can take the high notes in ‘Magic Shop.’ Taehyungie can add his own flare too, we’ve got you.”

Jungkook nodded immediately, his eyes wide. “Yeah. Yeah, I got it.”

Yoongi pushed off the counter, his dark eyes locked on Jin. “You’ll tell us if you need to tap out.” It wasn’t a question.

Jin met his gaze. “I will.”

Another silence, heavier this time.

Then Taehyung, ever the emotional barometer of their pack, let out a shaky breath and pressed his forehead to Jin’s shoulder. “You’re such a stubborn hyung,” he mumbled, his voice thick.

Jin laughed, the sound a little wet, and carded his fingers through Taehyung’s hair. “Yeah, well. You love me anyway.”

Jimin made a wounded noise and threw himself into the hug, his omega scent sweetening with affection. “Obviously.”

Jungkook, never one to be left out, piled on next, nearly knocking Jin off the couch.

Hoseok fake-groaned. “Yah, my turn—”

Namjoon rolled his eyes, but his scent warmed, his alpha rumbling in quiet contentment as he watched his pack—his family—swarm Jin with love.

Yoongi, ever the exception, just sighed and tossed a water bottle at Jin’s head. “Drink. You’re dehydrating my future niece or nephew.”

Jin caught it with one hand, grinning. “Rude.”

And just like that—

The tension broke.

The show would go on.

💜

When Jin took his seat on the extended stage during the ballad segment, sixty thousand ARMY bombs flickered like stars.

He caught his breath, his hand resting lightly on his stomach, and sang—softer than usual, but no less full of love.

And when his voice wavered on the high note of Epiphany, Jimin was there in an instant, his harmony lifting Jin’s line like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Taehyung, seated beside him, squeezed his hand.

Namjoon, watching from the center stage, smiled.

And the light remained.

💜

The stadium lights dimmed to a soft gold, leaving only the glow of sixty thousand ARMY bombs swaying like fireflies in the dark. Jin stood alone at center stage, his heartbeat loud in his ears. The wireless mic in his hand felt heavier than usual.

"ARMY," he began, voice steady but softer than his usual stage boom. The crowd's murmurs died instantly. "I need you to do something for me." A pause. "Please... put your phones away. Just for these next few minutes."

A ripple of confusion, then—movement. Thousands of screens winked out as fans obediently tucked devices into pockets and bags. The stadium grew still in a way it never did during concerts.

Jin exhaled. "Thank you." His fingers flexed around the mic. "There's something I need to tell you. Something important."

Behind him, the massive LED screens flickered to life—not with concert visuals, but with a carefully edited ultrasound image. The personal details were cropped out, replaced by tiny cartoon versions of BTS's logos dancing around the edges. The grainy black-and-white silhouette of a tiny curled form filled the screen.

A collective gasp echoed through the stands.

Namjoon stepped into the light behind Jin, his hand finding the small of his back. The others materialized like shadows—Yoongi at Jin's left shoulder, Hoseok and Jimin flanking right, Taehyung and Jungkook completing the circle. A living barrier. A promise.

"My doctor says I shouldn't be jumping around anymore," Jin continued, attempting a joke that fell a little flat when his voice cracked. "Turns out... we're expecting a new member."

The stadium erupted.

Not in screams—in sound. A wave of wordless emotion crashed over the stage, thousands of voices blending into one wordless cry of joy so loud it vibrated in Jin's bones.

Jimin was already crying, his free hand clutching Jin's sleeve. Taehyung pressed his forehead to Jin's shoulder, his floral omega scent spilling over.

Jin swallowed hard. "We wanted you to know first. Because you're... you're family too." His free hand drifted to his stomach. "This baby is already so loved. By us. By you."

At the base of the stage, partially hidden in the shadows, Bang PD stood motionless. The CEO who had scolded them for sneaking snacks in the dorms, who had fought networks for their fair treatment—this unshakable man wiped at his eyes with a shaking hand. Beside him, Mr. Lee, their longtime bodyguard, didn't even try to hide his tears.

The screens shifted—a slow montage of the past months. Jin napping between rehearsals with a jacket draped over his stomach. Namjoon's protective hand always finding the small of his back. The members forming a protective circle around him during hectic airport moments. Tiny moments ARMY had cheered without understanding why.

Hoseok stepped forward, his beta warmth a steady presence. "We'll keep performing as long as Jin-hyung can," he promised the crowd, voice thick. "But we might need your help with his high notes!"

The stadium responded immediately—a deafening roar of approval, of promise.

Jin laughed wetly, tears spilling over. He turned slightly toward the ultrasound image. "You hear that, little one? You've got the best aunts and uncles in the world."

Namjoon's arm slid around Jin's waist, his alpha scent wrapping around them both like a shield. The others closed in—not hiding Jin, but holding him up. Seven shadows becoming one against the blinding stage lights.

And when the first chords of Magic Shop began—slower, sweeter, rearranged just for this moment in mere minutes thanks to Min PD—it wasn't just a song.

It was a lullaby.

Taehyung was crying into Jimin’s shoulder.

Hoseok was already drafting the official statement.

Yoongi was scowling at his phone, where the hashtag #JinAndNamJoon were already trending worldwide.

Jungkook, ever the realist, blinked. “...So does this mean we are canceling the European leg?”

Namjoon groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

Jin just laughed, bright and unguarded, his hand resting on the swell of his stomach.

Yeah.

They’d figure it out.

Together.

@BTStwt:

"JIN JUST ANNOUNCED HIS PREGNANCY WITH AN ULTRASOUND ON STAGE AND THE MEMBERS FORMED A PROTECTIVE CIRCLE AROUND HIM I AM NOT OKAY" [4.2M likes]

@joonified (thread):

"Let's break this down:

Jin asked ARMY to put phones away so we'd experience this together IRL

The ultrasound had Mang stickers on it

Namjoon didn't let go of him for a second

I'm deceased."[quote tweet: "Alpha instincts: ACTIVATED" @taekookanalyst ]

@kmedia_watch:

[VIDEO: Bang PD wiping tears at the base of the stage] "The man who once said 'idols can't date' is now crying over his artist's pregnancy announcement. Growth."

[Weverse Comments Flooded In]

user_army0923: "Jin-ssi, we'll sing your high notes! Just grow our baby safely!"

user_sugaholic: "The way Jungkook immediately stepped closer when Jin said 'we're expecting'... Alpha protect mode ENGAGED"

user_vminfluff: "TAEHYUNG PRESSED HIS FOREHEAD TO JIN'S SHOULDER AND WHIMPERED I WILL NEVER RECOVER"

[Instagram Stories]

@btschartdata: [Screenshot of Spotify streams] "Streams of 'Magic Shop' up 800% after it became a literal lullaby tonight"

@kpop_tea: [Video edit of Jin's happiest moments set to "Epiphany"] "This is what real strength looks like"

[Headline Roundup]

Rolling Stone:

"BTS's Kim Seokjin Makes History With Pregnancy Announcement During Seoul Concert"

TIME:

"How BTS Just Redefined Family Values in K-Pop"

The Seoul Daily (op-ed):

"The Cultural Earthquake of a Pregnant Idol: Why This Matters Beyond Music"

[Entertainment News Clips]

Reporter: " Some critics say this will damage BTS's marketability— "

Clip cuts to Yoongi's Weverse Live earlier that day, where he sipped coffee and said: "Funny how 'family values' only count when it's convenient for strangers' opinions." [Chat floods with: "SAY IT LOUDER"]

The dorm was unusually quiet the next morning. Jin sat curled on the couch, a blanket over his lap as Taehyung—their sweet, fiercely protective omega—fussed over his tea.

"Hyung should be resting," Taehyung muttered, shooting a glare at Namjoon's phone where it buzzed incessantly with notifications.

Jungkook—their youngest alpha, usually all sunshine—hadn't stopped growling under his breath since they'd gotten home. He sat at Jin's feet like a guard dog, fingers flexing around the neck of his guitar where he'd been practicing lullabies.

Namjoon's Twitter Notification:

@BigHitCEO : "To clarify: BTS's contracts have always included family planning protections. Any 'concerns' about hiatuses are manufactured drama."

Jimin, curled into Jin's side like a limpet, showed him the screen. "Bang PD-nim is going feral in the boardroom for you."

Jin huffed a laugh—then winced as a sharp kick made his stomach jump.

Five pairs of eyes snapped to him.

"I'm fine," Jin said, exasperated. "The baby just thinks my spleen is a soccer ball."

Yoongi, who'd been silently monitoring news coverage, finally looked up. "We need to address the elephant in the room." He turned his laptop around, showing a Forbes headline: "Can BTS Survive a Paternity Leave?"

Jungkook snarled. Actual snarled, his alpha canines flashing.

[Weverse Post – Kim Seokjin]

"To the 'fans' suddenly worried about 'the group's future': If you think a baby is going to break us, you don't know BTS. And you definitely don't know ARMY."

[Twitter Reaction]

@bts_bighit: "Official Statement: BTS will continue activities with adjusted schedules to support Jin's health. New music and tour dates will be announced when ready." [Trending: #TrustBTS]

[Fan Project Highlights]

#SingForJin trends as fans record covers of Jin's lines

Donations to children's charities spike under #BTShope

[The Sweetest Revenge]

@kpop_stan: "Lol BTS is finished"

Quote-tweeted by @army_analytics: "Jin's announcement video just surpassed 100M views. Stay mad." [Attached: screenshot of YouTube stats]

#SingForJin Goes Viral

A fan-edited video compilation swept across social media—thousands of ARMYs from every continent singing Jin’s lines from "Epiphany," "Moon," and "Awake." The clips were stitched together seamlessly, a global choir of voices carrying the notes their idol couldn’t.

@seokjinsdimples posted: "We’ll be your lungs, hyung. Just rest. "

[The Lullaby Project]

A music producer ARMY created an instrumental version of "Magic Shop" slowed to a gentle lullaby tempo. Within 48 hours, it topped iTunes charts in 17 countries with the hashtag #BTSlullaby.

Jin discovered it when Jungkook—ever the sentimental alpha—played it on his guitar one evening, humming along as Jin dozed on the couch.

"Yah," Jin grumbled, cracking one eye open. "Are you trying to make me cry?"

Jungkook just grinned, unrepentant. "It’s practice."

💜

Late that night, the seven of them piled into the studio—not to work, but to be. Jin lay across the couch with his feet in Namjoon's lap as Jungkook played a soft melody on guitar.

"We're really doing this," Jin murmured, hand resting on his stomach.

Namjoon laced their fingers together. "Together."

On the desk, Yoongi's notebook lay open to a half-written lyric:

"The light that remains / is the love that we make / louder than darkness / brighter than hate."

Outside, the world kept talking.

But here?

They were already home.

The news broke at 3:17 AM on a Tuesday—Jin, in the throes of a particularly vicious third-trimester craving, had tweeted (and then immediately deleted):

"if i don’t eat samgyeopsal RIGHT NOW i will actually perish"

ARMY, being ARMY, had screenshots circulating within minutes.

By sunrise, the hashtag #FeedPapaJin was trending worldwide.

Before lunch a food truck arrived and the company was forced to act quickly to manage the foot traffic.

The scent of sizzling pork belly hit Jin’s nose the moment he stepped out of the black van, his stomach growling loud enough for Jungkook—hovering at his elbow like an overprotective alpha shadow—to hear.

"Hyung," Jungkook said, eyes wide. "There’s a food truck."

Not just any food truck.

A gleaming, custom-painted monstrosity parked directly outside HYBE’s main entrance, its side emblazoned with:

"FOR PAPA JIN’S MIDNIGHT SNACKS – LOVE, ARMY"

Beneath it, in smaller letters, "and also his 11 AM snacks. and 3 PM snacks. and—"

Jin’s mouth fell open.

Hoseok, ever the opportunist, already had his phone out and streaming. "ARMY! Look what you’ve done!" he crowed, panning the camera to show the line of HYBE staffers—producers, stylists, even the CEO’s assistant—all clutching stacked takeout containers.

"They donated to food banks in seven countries," Jimin whispered, reading off his phone. "And then... this."

Jin’s eyes welled up. Hormones, probably. Definitely.

Inside the HYBE cafeteria (where the food truck staff had very illegally set up a satellite operation), Jin piled his plate high with pork belly, only to freeze when Taehyung materialized beside him.

"Yah." Taehyung’s nose wrinkled, his omega instincts zeroing in on the offending side dish. "Doctor said no spicy food!"

He snatched the kimchi away with the precision of a man who’d been wreaking havoc on Jin since trainee days.

Jin gasped, clutching his chest. "Traitor! That’s my emotional support ferment!"

Behind them, Hoseok’s camera caught Jungkook literally growling at a well-meaning intern who reached for the last piece of ssam.

Yoongi facepalming as Namjoon tried–and failed–to negotiate with the food truck chef for "just one more plate, please, he’s crying—"

Jimin feeding Jin bites off his own plate like a doting omega mother hen.

By evening the food truck had been invited to park permanently near HYBE thanks to Bang PD’s doing.

#SamgyeopsalForSeokjin had raised $200k for food insecurity charities

Jin’s Weverse post "I ate so much I became one with the couch. Worth it." broke the platform’s like record

And somewhere in Seoul, a very tired nutritionist added "food truck wrangling" to Jin’s prenatal care plan.

Post-Credits:

[Twitter – @taehyungiee]

[Video: Jin, sprawled on the studio couch, groaning as the baby kicks ]

Caption: "The pup wants round two. Send help."

[3.4M likes]

The HYBE recording studio had seen many strange things over the years—sleep-deprived rappers slumped over mixing boards, impromptu dance breaks, the occasional tearful breakthrough at 3 AM. But nothing could have prepared the staff for the scene that greeted them that morning.

The usually pristine space had been transformed into something resembling a cross between a luxury pillow fort and a dragon's hoard. Every available surface—the couch, the equipment racks, even the top of the grand piano—was draped with what appeared to be every hoodie Jin had ever stolen from the members. The 2018 Love Yourself tour hoodie (Yoongi's, judging by the stretched-out sleeves) was carefully arranged as the centerpiece, flanked by Jungkook's favorite oversized black pullover and Namjoon's Harvard sweatshirt.

In the middle of this textile kingdom, curled up in a nest of no less than seven weighted blankets, Jin slept like a contented cat, one hand resting protectively over the swell of his stomach. A half-empty thermos of banana milk sat nearby, along with what looked suspiciously like one of Taehyung's silk pillowcases.

The morning staff froze in the doorway.

Yoongi arrived ten minutes later, took one look at the scene, and sighed so deeply it seemed to come from his soul. "Omega instincts?"

From behind a precarious mountain of throw pillows (where had Jin even found so many?), Jimin's flushed face appeared. "He was up all night arranging it," the younger omega whispered, eyes wide. "I tried to move the tour hoodie so I could sit down and he—" Jimin made a small, terrified noise. "He growled at me, hyung. Like, actual fangs-out, omega territorial growling."

As if on cue, Jin stirred in his nest, nose scrunching adorably before his eyes flew open—and immediately narrowed at the intruders. His scent, usually so bright with citrus and honey, had taken on a deeper, muskier edge, thick with omega possessiveness.

"That's my nest," Jin said, voice still sleep-rough but edged with warning. His fingers curled tighter around Namjoon's stolen hoodie.

Jungkook chose that moment to arrive, freezing mid-yawn when he took in the scene. His alpha instincts clearly short-circuited between amusement and awe. "Uh. Hyung? That's my favorite hoodie."

Jin's response was to pull the garment closer, tucking it under his chin with a defiant glare.

The standoff might have lasted all morning if not for Namjoon's arrival. The pack alpha took one look at his heavily pregnant mate surrounded by their stolen clothes and immediately softened. "Aw, baby," he cooed, completely undermining his usual leader persona. "Did you make us a nest?"

Jin's pout could have powered a small city. "It's not finished," he grumbled, though some of the tension left his shoulders as Namjoon carefully approached. "The lighting's all wrong and Jiminie keeps touching things."

"I was just trying to sit down!" Jimin wailed, still half-buried in pillows.

Yoongi rubbed his temples. "I'll call the producers. We're rescheduling today's session."

As the staff retreated, Mr Lee snapping a quick photo that would later surface on Weverse with the caption "PAPA JIN'S FORTRESS OF SOLITUDE" , Namjoon knelt beside the nest, his alpha scent wrapping around Jin in warm cedar waves. "You know," he murmured, gently untangling Jin's death grip on Jungkook's hoodie, "we could just buy you your own hoodies. In your size. That you don't have to steal."

Jin's answering growl vibrated against Namjoon's chest as the alpha carefully settled into the nest. "Mine," the omega insisted, though he allowed Namjoon to pull him close.

From his pillow prison, Jimin stage-whispered to Jungkook: "We're never getting our clothes back, are we?"

Jungkook, wisely, shook his head and backed slowly out of the room.

Post-Credits:

[Weverse – @min_suga]

[Photo: A very disgruntled Yoongi attempting to record vocals while wearing three layers of Jin's stolen t-shirts ]

Caption : " Compromise. (Someone tell him omegas don't actually die if they can't smell their mates 24/7)"

[4.8M likes, 22K comments: "BUT WHAT IF THEY DO THO"]

Jungkook had always been their baby alpha—the youngest of their dynamic, his wolf still learning its edges ,even after years of experience. But Jin’s pregnancy had awakened something primal in him, something that had the entire pack walking a careful line between amusement and alarm.

It started small.

A sniff here, a growl there.

Jin would reach for his tea, only to find Jungkook’s nose already buried in the cup, his alpha instincts convinced that something in the chamomile blend smelled off.

"Yah," Jin would scold, swatting at him. "It’s caffeine-free, you menace."

Jungkook would grumble, unconvinced, but back off—for now.

Then came the glaring.

Any staff member who moved too quickly near Jin—any producer who spoke too loudly, any stylist who approached without clear intent—was met with the full force of Jungkook’s alpha stare. Dark, unblinking, predatory.

Hoseok, ever the mediator, had taken to announcing his movements like a flight attendant. "Approaching from the left, Jungkook-ah! Just passing by! No sudden movements!"

Jungkook would nod, pacified—but only slightly.

And the stockpiling.

Protein bars. Trail mix. Pre-peeled bananas wrapped in foil. Jungkook’s bags had become a mobile convenience store, all under the guise of "hyung might get hungry."

"I’m pregnant, not a bottomless pit," Jin had complained, even as he happily accepted the third snack of the hour.

But then—

It escalated.

The stylist meant no harm.

He was new, eager, his hands quick as he reached to adjust Jin’s lapel before filming.

He didn’t see Jungkook’s head snap up.

Didn’t notice the way his pupils dilated, his alpha scent spiking—sharp, aggressive, mine-mine-MINE—

The snarl that ripped from his throat was feral.

Three staff members scrambled backward. The stylist froze, his hands still half-raised, his breath caught in his chest.

The entire room went still.

Jin didn’t even look up from his script.

He just reached over and whacked Jungkook across the shoulder with a rolled-up lyric sheet.

"Control your wolf, kid," he said, voice flat.

Jungkook blinked.

The tension shattered.

Taehyung, as always, was the balm to Jungkook’s storm.

He found his alpha mate later, sulking in the practice room, his scent still thick with residual agitation.

"Hey," Taehyung murmured, sliding onto the floor beside him.

Jungkook didn’t answer, his jaw clenched, his fingers flexing against his knees.

Taehyung waited.

"I didn’t mean to," Jungkook finally muttered. "It just—happened."

Taehyung hummed, leaning into him. "I know."

Jungkook’s shoulders slumped. "Hyung must think I’m an idiot."

"Hyung thinks you’re his idiot," Taehyung corrected, pressing a kiss to Jungkook’s tense shoulder. "And so do I."

Jungkook exhaled, long and slow, his alpha finally settling under Taehyung’s touch.

Namjoon found them like that later—Jungkook curled into Taehyung’s side, his wolf soothed, his scent mellowed to something softer.

"You good?" Namjoon asked, his own alpha calm, steady.

Jungkook nodded. "Yeah. Just… a lot."

Namjoon understood. He ruffled Jungkook’s hair, his touch firm but fond. "Next time, try asking before you scare the staff half to death."

Jungkook groaned, burying his face in Taehyung’s neck.

Taehyung just laughed, his fingers carding through Jungkook’s hair.

And just like that—

Balance was restored.

[Weverse – @taetaehugs] [Photo: Jungkook, wearing a handwritten "I WILL ASK BEFORE GROWLING" sign around his neck, looking thoroughly chastised] Caption: "Rehabilitation program: Day 1." [4.2M likes, 15K comments: "FREE HIM"]

The scenting had started subtly—a brush of Jimin's wrist against Jin's neck as he passed by, Taehyung nuzzling his shoulder during movie nights. Small, casual touches that any pack would exchange. But as Jin's pregnancy progressed, the omegas' instincts kicked into overdrive.

By the seventh month, Jin had become a walking testament to his pack's devotion.

Jimin was the most persistent. His omega had always been affectionate, but now he moved with purpose—slipping into Jin's space with quiet determination, his floral sweetness layering over Jin's skin like honeysuckle in bloom. He'd press close during breaks, fingers ghosting over Jin's scent glands, his nose twitching as he assessed his work.

"You're fading," Jimin would murmur, and then—without waiting for permission—he'd rub his cheek against Jin's, his omega purring in satisfaction as his scent took root.

Taehyung was more strategic. Where Jimin was constant, Taehyung was intentional. He'd corner Jin in the kitchen, his caramel warmth wrapping around them both as he carefully rearranged Jin's borrowed hoodies, ensuring his scent clung to the fabric.

"Gotta make sure the pup knows my voice," Taehyung would say, as if this was a perfectly normal thing to declare before burying his face in Jin's neck.

And then there was Namjoon's hoodie—the holy grail of Jin's collection. The alpha had given up trying to reclaim it after the third week, resigning himself to the sight of Jin swimming in the oversized fabric, his belly rounding beneath the soft cotton. The cedar scent had seeped into Jin's skin, a constant undercurrent of safe-protected-mine that made the entire pack relax when they caught whiffs of it.

But beneath it all—under the flowers and caramel and cedar—was something new. Something precious.

The milky-sweet note of pregnancy.

It clung to Jin like a second skin, subtle but undeniable. It made Jungkook's alpha rumble with quiet pride, had Hoseok unconsciously bringing him snacks more often, softened even Yoongi's usual scowl into something fond.

The pack orbited Jin like planets around a sun, drawn in by the gravity of his scent—their scents—all tangled together in a way that said, louder than words ever could:

This is family. This is home.

Post-Credits: [Twitter – @mochiminie ] [Video: Jin, half-asleep on the couch, as Jimin and Taehyung take turns scenting him like overzealous cats ] Caption: " Scent maintenance is a full-time job." [ 5.1M likes, 28K comments: " THE WAY NAMJOON'S HOODIE SWALLOWS HIM WHOLE" ]

The dorm was pitch black when the first crash echoed through the hallway. Namjoon bolted upright in bed, his alpha instincts screaming to life before his brain had fully processed he was awake. The digital clock on his nightstand read 2:17 AM in angry red numbers.

Another crash. The distinct sound of the refrigerator door slamming.

"YAH! WHERE ARE THE PICKLES?"

Namjoon was already scrambling for his glasses when the overhead light in the hallway flicked on, illuminating Jungkook's wide-eyed face peering out from his doorway. The youngest alpha looked like he'd been awake for hours - which, knowing his overprotective tendencies lately, he probably had been.

"Hyung," Jungkook mouthed silently, nostrils flaring as he scented the air for distress.

Namjoon didn't need enhanced senses to know what was coming next. The telltale sound of cupboard doors being thrown open with increasing violence could only mean one thing - Jin's omega cravings had reached DEFCON levels.

By the time Namjoon made it to the kitchen, the scene was already in full swing. Jin stood barefoot in the glow of the open refrigerator, his sleep-mussed hair sticking up in every direction, the stretched-out fabric of Namjoon's stolen Harvard hoodie barely containing the swell of his belly. An empty pickle jar rolled forlornly near his feet.

"I NEED pickles," Jin announced to no one in particular, voice thick with omega command. "The CRUNCHY kind. And vanilla ice cream. TOGETHER."

Namjoon's sleep-addled brain short-circuited. "Hyung," he rasped, rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses, "that's disgusting—"

Jin whirled on him so fast Namjoon actually took a step back. In the dim kitchen light, his omega fangs - rarely bared outside of ruts or serious threats - gleamed dangerously as he hissed, "I. Will. BITE you."

Behind them, Jungkook made a strangled noise, his alpha torn between protecting his pregnant pack omega and running for the hills. His fingers twitched toward the protein bars he'd started carrying in his pajama pockets.

A new presence appeared in the doorway. Yoongi, already fully dressed with keys in hand, took one look at the scene and sighed so deeply it seemed to come from his soul. "Which convenience store is least likely to judge me at this hour?" he muttered, already heading for the door.

The sound of the front door closing seemed to break the tension. Jin's shoulders slumped slightly, his omega fangs retracting as quickly as they'd appeared. He blinked at Namjoon, suddenly looking much more like his usual self and much less like a feral omega about to commit homicide over pickles.

"...I really want pickles and ice cream," he said quietly, and damn if Namjoon's alpha didn't want to give him the entire world in that moment.

"I know, baby," Namjoon murmured, carefully stepping closer. "Yoongi-hyung's getting them."

Jin sniffled. "The really crunchy kind?"

"The crunchiest," Namjoon promised, opening his arms in invitation.

Jin practically fell into them, his warm weight familiar and comforting against Namjoon's chest. His scent - that intoxicating mix of omega and pack and pregnancy - wrapped around Namjoon like a blanket. Jungkook hovered nearby, still vibrating with nervous energy until Jin reached out and tugged him into the hug too.

Three convenience stores later, Yoongi returned to absolute chaos.

Somewhere between his departure and return, Jin's cravings had apparently taken an emotional turn. The omega was now fully sobbing into Hoseok's shoulder, his face buried in the beta's sleep shirt as a video of baby pandas learning to swim played on someone's phone.

"They're trying so hard," Jin wailed, his voice muffled against Hoseok's chest. "Look at them, Hoba! They're so small and the water's so big!"

Hoseok, ever the emotional rock of their pack, rubbed soothing circles on Jin's back. "I know, hyung, I know," he murmured, shooting Yoongi a look that clearly said ‘ Help me’ .

Taehyung, ever observant, had already prepared two bowls at the kitchen table - one with the requested pickle-ice cream abomination, another with plain tteokbokki just in case. He met Yoongi's exhausted gaze and shrugged, as if to say covering all our bases.

Jungkook still hovered nearby, having progressed from stress-eating protein bars to stress-peeling bananas with military precision. His alpha scent pulsed with protective distress every time Jin's sobs hitched.

Yoongi wordlessly handed over the goods - three jars of different pickle brands (just in case) and the most expensive vanilla ice cream the store had offered.

Jin took one look at the offerings and burst into fresh tears. "You're all so good to me," he sniffled, before promptly taking an enormous bite of pickle-and-ice-cream and declaring through a full mouth: "I'm disbanding BTS. None of you appreciate my genius."

Hoseok, without missing a beat, grabbed Jin's hands and spun him into an impromptu dance battle right there in the kitchen. "Try to keep up, old man," he teased, deliberately botching the choreography until Jin's sobs turned to breathless laughter.

By 3:45 AM, the crisis had been averted.

Jin was happily devouring both the pickles and the tteokbokki–sometimes in the same bite, to Jungkook's visible horror.

Jungkook had finally stopped stress-eating and was now dozing against Taehyung's shoulder

Yoongi was drafting a resignation letter to HYBE's HR department titled "Re: Omega Pregnancy Hazards Pay"

Namjoon had learned his lesson and kept his opinions on food combinations to himself–though, his facial expressions betrayed him constantly.

And Taehyung? Taehyung just smiled, snapped a photo of Jin mid-bite with pickles in one hand and ice cream in the other, and posted it to Weverse with the caption:

"Papa wolf cravings: 1. Dignity: 0."

The post would garner 5.8 million likes within the hour.

[BangtanTV VLOG – "2AM Snack Run" ( Excerpt)]

The convenience store fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as Yoongi stood at the checkout counter, his expression the very picture of exhausted resignation. The cashier - a college student who clearly recognized him - stared at the items on the conveyor belt with growing bewilderment.

"Uh... sir?" the cashier ventured, holding up a jar of pickles and the premium vanilla ice cream. "Did you want these... together?"

Yoongi's deadpan stare could have melted steel. "No," he said flatly, pulling out his wallet. "I don't want to explain. Just take my money."

[10.2M views, top comment: " The way this man has fought CEOs but fears a pregnant Jin" ]

The recording booth was unusually quiet when Jin waddled in, one hand supporting the curve of his belly, the other clutching a banana milk like a lifeline. The producers had learned by now to keep a stool ready near the microphone—though today, Jin had forgone it in favor of swaying gently on his feet, his free hand rubbing absent circles over the swell of his stomach.

Jungkook was mid-take when it happened.

The youngest alpha had been nailing his high note—that perfect, crystalline tone that usually made him preen—when Jin suddenly gasped, his hands flying to his belly.

"Aigoo!" Jin's face lit up with delight as he turned toward the control room glass. "Did you see that? The baby kicked right when you hit that note!"

Jungkook's voice cracked spectacularly.

The alpha—who had faced down stadiums of screaming fans without breaking a sweat—turned crimson, his fingers fumbling over his headphones. "I—what—hyung—"

In the control room, Yoongi smirked around his coffee cup. "Tiny ARMY already has opinions about your vibrato, Jungkook-ah."

Jin beamed, guiding Jungkook's hand to the spot where tiny feet were still fluttering beneath his skin. "They love your voice," he murmured, watching with satisfaction as Jungkook's alpha instincts short-circuited at the contact.

The usually cocky alpha looked ruined—his lips parted in awe, his free hand clutching the edge of the recording desk like he might collapse. His scent spiked, warm and honeyed with protectiveness, his alpha crooning quietly at the life responding to his voice.

"T-take it again," Jungkook stammered, his ears burning red as he scrambled back to the microphone. His next attempt was painfully earnest—his voice softer, sweeter, as if serenading the baby directly.

Jin grinned, leaning back against the studio couch as Taehyung and Jimin exchanged knowing looks.

"Yah," Hoseok stage-whispered, poking his head into the booth. "If you keep this up, Jungkook-ah's alpha is going to build a nursery in the recording studio."

Jungkook didn't even deny it—just turned an even deeper shade of red and whined, his alpha too busy melting to defend itself.

And when the baby kicked again—right on cue—the entire pack dissolved into laughter, their scents tangling in the warm, safe space they'd built together.

Post-Credits: [Weverse – @koo_alpha] [Audio clip: Jungkook humming a lullaby off-key, followed by a tiny, audible kick against the microphone] Caption: "Vocal coach in training." [8.4M likes, 42K comments: "BABY’S FIRST DISS TRACK"]

The realization hit Namjoon at 3 AM.

He bolted upright in bed, sweat cooling on his temples, his alpha instincts screaming.

Fatherhood.

Actual fatherhood.

Not just leading a pack, not just being a hyung—a parent. To a tiny, fragile life that would depend on him for everything.

His breath came too fast, his chest too tight.

Beside him, Jin slept on peacefully, his scent sweet with contentment, one hand curled protectively over his rounded stomach. The sight should have soothed him—but instead, it sent Namjoon into a spiral.

What if he messed up? What if he dropped the baby? What if he forgot the baby somewhere? Could you even do that? Was that a thing? What if—

His phone screen lit up with a frantic Google search:

"how to know if you're going to be a bad father"

💜

Namjoon sat at the island, surrounded by no less than seven parenting books he’d panic-ordered last week, his laptop open to a YouTube tutorial titled "How to Swaddle Like a Pro (New Dad Tips!)"

He’d just attempted to fold a burrito-shaped bundle out of a dish towel (it looked more like a crime scene than a baby) when the lights flicked on.

Yoongi stood in the doorway, his sleep-mussed hair sticking up in every direction, his expression caught between exhaustion and "why am I not surprised."

"...You good?"

Namjoon’s voice cracked. "What if I’m terrible at this?"

Yoongi blinked. Slowly, he pulled out the chair beside Namjoon and sat. "At what? Dish towel origami?"

"At being a dad," Namjoon hissed, gesturing wildly at his laptop. "I can’t even swaddle correctly—what if I break the baby?"

Yoongi stared at him. Then—to Namjoon’s absolute horror—he laughed.

"Yah!" Namjoon squawked, indignant.

Yoongi wiped at his eyes. "Sorry, sorry—it’s just—" He gestured at the absolute wreckage of Namjoon’s panic. "You lead millions of people. You’ve literally spoken at the UN. And you’re sitting here at 4 AM terrified of a newborn."

Namjoon pouted. "Newborns don’t have opinions, hyung. They’re scary."

Yoongi snorted, reaching over to shut Namjoon’s laptop. "You’ll be fine."

"How do you know?"

"Because," Yoongi said, standing and ruffling Namjoon’s hair, "you’re already a dad. You’ve been parenting five chaotic idiots for years."

Namjoon opened his mouth—then closed it.

...Okay. That was kind of true.

💜

Namjoon slipped back under the covers, his alpha finally settling. Jin stirred, blinking sleepily up at him.

"Mm. Where’d you go?"

Namjoon pulled him close, pressing a kiss to Jin’s temple. "Just had a crisis."

Jin hummed, nuzzling into his chest. "About?"

"Fatherhood."

Jin snorted, his laughter vibrating against Namjoon’s skin. "Welcome to the club."

Namjoon huffed, but his arms tightened around Jin anyway, his alpha purring quietly as Jin’s scent wrapped around him.

Maybe—maybe—he could do this.

[Twitter – @rapmonster]

[Photo: A disastrously folded "swaddle" made of dish towels]

Caption: "Practice makes... something."

[3.7M likes, 45K comments: "DADS WHO SWADDLE LIKE THIS RAISE FUTURE ARTISTS" ]

The morning show set glittered under studio lights as the anchor leaned forward, her smile warm and genuine. "In an unprecedented show of support, BTS fans worldwide have mobilized for expectant member Kim Seokjin," she announced, gesturing to the screen behind her.

The footage rolled—a montage of ARMY projects:

A Seoul food truck parked outside HYBE, piled high with Jin's favorite snacks

Donation receipts from fan drives for maternal health charities

Thousands of fans singing Jin's high notes in unison under the hashtag #SingForJin

"Experts say this level of fan engagement is rewriting the idol-fan relationship rulebook," the anchor marveled.

Meanwhile, in a Tabloid Office Somewhere the headline screamed: "BTS GOES DOMESTIC: IS THIS THE END OF THEIR EDGE?"

The article featured a blurry paparazzi shot of Jin waddling through a convenience store, one hand on his belly, the other clutching banana milk.

Weverse – @seokjin

Jin's response dropped at 2 AM KST, "Yes, I'm domestic. Like a tiger. Sleep with one eye open."

Attached was a selfie of him grinning, teeth slightly bared, Namjoon's Harvard hoodie stretched over his belly.

The internet exploded.

[Twitter Reactions]

 "TIGER DAD JIN IS THE ONLY ENERGY I NEED" – @BTStwt

 "The way he's threatening us while holding banana milk I CAN'T" – @joonified

"namjoon r u seeing this 😂💀" – @min_suga 

The producers shifted uncomfortably as Jin settled onto his throne—a mountain of pillows arranged by Jungkook, Taehyung, and no less than three anxious staff members. A half-finished banana milk sat within reach.

"Let's try it one more time," Jin said, his voice softer now but no less commanding.

The track played—a ballad version of their upcoming single, tempo slowed to accommodate Jin's reduced lung capacity. When the producers exchanged glances, Yoongi moved.

"Either we release it like this," he said, voice dangerously calm, "or you lose this song to whomever I decide gets it."

Silence.

Then—

Hoseok's bright laugh broke the tension. "Yah, don't look so scared! It's better this way!" He bounced on his toes, demonstrating the new rhythm. "More soul!"

Jimin and Taehyung immediately joined in, their omega instincts soothed by the compromise. Jungkook hovered near Jin, his alpha rumbling approval.

Namjoon, ever the diplomat, smiled at the producers. "Trust us."

The single soared to #1 in 98 countries.

Fans noted the tenderness in Jin's voice—the way his lower register, softened by pregnancy, lent new weight to the lyrics about love and legacy.

The Fan projects multiplied.

#BTSLullaby trends as musicians worldwide cover the song for expectant parents.

A viral TikTok shows ARMYs replacing concert chants with whispered harmonies to "give Jin's voice rest"

Donations to children's charities spike under #BTShope

💜

The pack sprawled together, Jin propped up on Namjoon's chest as they scrolled through reactions.

"See?" Yoongi muttered around a mouthful of pizza. "Told you it'd work."

Jin grinned, stealing a slice. "Should've listened to me months ago."

Taehyung, curled into Jungkook's side, hummed along to the song playing softly from Jimin's phone. "The baby likes it," he announced, feeling the kick against his palm where it rested on Jin's belly.

Hoseok beamed. "Future ARMY!"

Namjoon's arms tightened around Jin, his alpha purring. Outside, the world kept talking—but here, in this moment, they were exactly where they needed to be.

Post-Credits:

[Weverse – @bts_bighit]

[Video: The members gathered around Jin's ultrasound speaker, playing their new single as the baby's heartbeat syncs to the rhythm]

Caption: "Our youngest critic."

[12.4M likes, 500K comments: "I'M NOT CRYING YOU ARE"]

The nursery was quiet when they entered, bathed in the soft glow of the galaxy nightlight Taehyung had insisted on installing. Jin paused in the doorway, his breath catching—even now, after months of preparation, the reality of it all still stole the air from his lungs sometimes.

Namjoon's hoodie—the one he'd stolen so many months ago at the start of this journey—stretched snug over the curve of his belly, the fabric carrying the comforting musk of his alpha's scent. He rubbed absent circles over the spot where their pup had been kicking insistently all evening, as if they too knew how close they were to meeting the world.

Taehyung's mural dominated the far wall—seven stars in their signature formation, swirling around a single, luminous moon. The brushstrokes were vibrant, alive with movement, just like the artist himself. Jin's fingers itched to trace them, to feel the ridges of paint beneath his fingertips, but his balance wasn't what it used to be these days.

"They're going to be so loved," Jimin murmured, appearing at his side like a ghost. The omega pressed close, his floral scent wrapping around Jin like a second embrace. His small hand found Jin's, lacing their fingers together over the swell of his stomach.

Jungkook hovered just behind them, his alpha presence a warm, steady constant. His fingers twitched at his sides—Jin could practically feel the younger alpha vibrating with the need to touch, to protect, to confirm for himself that everything was as it should be. Without turning, Jin reached back, catching Jungkook's wrist and guiding his hand to the spot where their pup was currently practicing what felt like soccer kicks.

The alpha's breath hitched, his deep, honeyed scent spiking with wonder. "Strong," he rumbled, his voice thick with emotion. His free hand came up to brace against Jin's lower back, taking some of the weight without being asked.

From somewhere down the hall, the faint sound of ARMY's collaborative project played—thousands of voices woven together in a hauntingly beautiful rendition of "You Never Walk Alone." Yoongi had set it up earlier, claiming it was for "aesthetic purposes," but Jin had seen the way his hands shook slightly as he connected his phone to the nursery speakers.

Hoseok appeared then, balancing a tray of snacks that would inevitably go uneaten. "For the waiting," he said brightly, though his smile was softer than usual, his beta scent mellow with contentment. He set the tray on the dresser beside the framed ultrasound photos before immediately turning to adjust the already-perfect stack of onesies in the drawer below.

Taehyung and Yoongi were bickering quietly by the crib—something about the proper tightness for swaddling blankets—but even their bickering had taken on a fond, almost ritualistic quality these past weeks.

Namjoon's arms encircled Jin from behind, his chin hooking over Jin's shoulder. His cedar-and-rain scent wrapped around Jin like a living thing, soothing the last of the tension from his body. "Ready?" he murmured, his lips brushing Jin's temple.

Jin leaned back into the embrace, letting his eyes drift shut for just a moment. He thought of the journey here—the fear, the joy, the countless moments both big and small that had led them to this room, to this night.

When he opened his eyes, his pack was watching him—six sets of eyes filled with so much love it nearly knocked the breath from his lungs.

"Always," Jin whispered.

And somewhere, beneath the sound of their breathing, beneath the distant chorus of ARMY's voices, their pup kicked once—hard—as if in agreement.

The First Contraction The fluorescent lights of the convenience store hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow over the snack aisle. Jin had been mid-reach for another bag of honey butter chips when it hit—a sudden, vicious cramp that locked his muscles and stole his breath. His fingers spasmed around the shelf, the chips tumbling to the floor with a sharp crunch.

Jungkook, who had been hovering two steps behind like an overeager bodyguard, moved before Jin could even gasp. His alpha instincts flared to life, his scent—warm honey and burnt sugar—spiking with alarm as he lunged forward.

"Hyung—!"

Jin barely had time to brace himself before Jungkook’s arms were around him, one hand under his knees, the other at his back, lifting him clean off the ground like he weighed nothing.

"PUT ME DOWN," Jin snarled, his omega flashing fangs in warning. His entire body was rigid, torn between the pain radiating through his abdomen and the sheer indignity of being manhandled in the middle of a convenience store.

Jungkook didn’t listen. His pupils were blown wide, his alpha in full crisis mode, his grip unrelenting. "We need to go—now—"

Jin bit him.

Not hard enough to break skin, but enough to make Jungkook yelp and drop him back onto his feet.

"I can walk," Jin hissed, bracing himself against the shelf as another wave of pain crested. His breath came in short, controlled bursts, his fingers trembling where they pressed against his stomach.

Across the store, Yoongi stood frozen by the freezers, two cartons of banana milk still clutched in his hands. His nostrils flared as Jin’s distress scent—citrus turned sharp with pain—flooded the air.

Then, like a switch flipping, Yoongi snapped into action.

The first call was to Namjoon.

Yoongi’s fingers flew over his phone, his voice low and dangerously calm when the alpha picked up.

"Yeonnam-dong convenience store. Now."

A pause. Then Namjoon’s voice, already edged with panic: "Which one? What’s—"

"Jin’s in labor," Yoongi said flatly.

Silence. Then—

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE’S IN LABOR—"

Yoongi hung up.

The second call was to Bang PD.

The CEO answered on the first ring, only to be met with Yoongi’s deadpan: "We’re going to need the private hospital wing."

Bang PD’s response was lost to the wind as Yoongi shoved his phone into his pocket and moved, his alpha instincts laser-focused.

Jungkook was still hovering over Jin like a deranged guard dog, his alpha scent so thick it was practically suffocating. The cashier—a poor college student who had only signed up for the night shift to pay his tuition—took one step forward.

"Do you—do you need an ambulance?"

Jungkook growled, low and feral, his canines glinting under the store lights. "WE NEED A DOCTOR—"

Yoongi grabbed him by the back of the shirt and yanked. "Car. Now."

Jin barely made it into the backseat before another contraction hit, his fingers clawing into the leather as he breathed through it. Jungkook, still vibrating with alpha panic, immediately started piling snack bags and his own jacket around Jin like some kind of deranged nest.

"What are you doing?" Jin gritted out.

"Nesting," Jungkook said, as if it were obvious.

Yoongi, from the driver’s seat, muttered a prayer under his breath before slamming his foot on the gas.

The car lurched forward, tires screeching.

Jungkook, half-sprawled across the backseat, yelped as he was thrown against the door. "HYUNG—"

"SEATBELT," Yoongi snapped, swerving around a taxi.

Jin groaned, his head thumping back against the seat. "If I die in this car, I’m haunting both of you—"

Yoongi ignored him, his fingers white-knuckled on the wheel as he blew through a red light.

His phone buzzed. The group chat.

Taehyung: 

WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE’S IN LABOR????

Jimin: 

WHERE ARE YOU TELL ME RIGHT NOW

Hoseok: 

I’M BRINGING A CAKE

Yoongi didn’t have time for this. He thumbed out a single message:

Hospital. DO NOT PANIC.

A second later.

Taehyung:  

TOO LATE

The Pack Descends The hospital lobby was chaos by the time they arrived.

Namjoon burst through the doors like a man possessed, his hair sticking up in every direction, his feet still shoved into indoor slippers. His alpha scent—cedar and rain gone sharp with terror—flooded the space the moment he spotted Jin.

"Jin—"

"Don’t," Jin warned, pointing a finger at him even as the nurses helped him into a wheelchair. "If you panic, I panic, and I refuse to panic in front of strangers."

Namjoon’s jaw snapped shut.

Jimin and Taehyung arrived next, arms piled high with stolen hospital blankets.

"For nesting!" Taehyung announced, shoving them at a bewildered nurse.

Jin, despite everything, laughed—only to cut off with a groan as another contraction hit.

Hoseok, ever the optimist, skidded in last, a fully decorated birthday cake balanced precariously in his hands.

"It’s technically their birthday too!" he defended when six pairs of eyes turned to stare at him.

Jin, sweat-drenched and exhausted, managed a weak thumbs-up. "I love you all. Now get out."

And with that, he was wheeled away—leaving behind a pack of alphas, betas, and omegas in varying states of meltdown.

[Twitter – @min_suga] [Video: A shaky, off-camera shot of the pack in the waiting room. Jungkook is pacing like a caged animal, Namjoon is staring blankly at a vending machine, and Hoseok is stress-eating the birthday cake. Taehyung and Jimin are building an actual nest out of stolen blankets in the corner.] Caption: "Papa wolf is handling this better than all of us." [12.4M likes, 500K comments: "THE WAY YOONGI IS FILMING THIS LIKE A WAR DOCUMENTARY"]

The car ride home was silent, save for the soft whimpers of the newborn bundled securely in Jin’s arms. Namjoon drove with both hands clenched on the wheel, his alpha instincts on high alert as he navigated the streets with exaggerated caution. Every bump in the road made his jaw tighten, his eyes flickering to the rearview mirror to check on his mate and pup.

In the backseat, Jin was cocooned in blankets, his omega still riding the high of birth hormones, his scent thick with milk and contentment. The pup—tiny, perfect, and still unnamed—squirmed against his chest, her little face scrunched in displeasure at being jostled.

Jungkook, who had insisted on riding shotgun so he could "guard them properly," kept twisting around to stare, his alpha rumbling every time the baby made a sound. "She’s so small," he whispered for the fifth time, his voice awed.

Yoongi, seated beside Jin, didn’t speak. But his alpha hadn’t stopped purring since they’d left the hospital, a deep, steady vibration that seemed to soothe both Jin and the newborn. His fingers hovered near the baby’s head, as if afraid to touch but unable to resist being close.

When they finally pulled into their apartment’s parking garage, the rest of the pack was already waiting.

Taehyung and Jimin stood at the entrance, their omega instincts in overdrive, arms full of blankets and what looked like half the nursery’s stuffed animals. Hoseok bounced on his toes, a camera in one hand and a ridiculous "Welcome Home" banner in the other.

Namjoon killed the engine and took a deep breath. "Okay," he said, voice strained. "No sudden movements. No loud noises. And no crowding."

Jungkook nodded solemnly, already unbuckling to stand guard at Jin’s door.

The pack gathered in the living room, the baby now swaddled and cradled in Jin’s arms as they all stared in reverent silence.

Hoseok broke first. "So," he whispered, as if afraid to wake her. "Do we have a name yet?"

Jin and Namjoon exchanged a glance. They’d discussed names for months, but nothing had felt right.

Jungkook, unable to help himself, leaned in. "What about Haneul? It’s pretty, like the sky—"

Jimin immediately shook his head. "Too common. She’s our pup. She needs something special."

Taehyung hummed, tilting his head. "Bora? Like the ocean?"

Yoongi made a face. "Sounds like a K-drama heroine."

Namjoon sighed, rubbing his temples. "We wanted something meaningful. Something that ties her to all of us."

Jin looked down at the baby, her tiny fingers curled around his own. Then he smiled.

"Hyung-ah," Yoongi said, recognizing the look. "What are you thinking?"

Jin traced the baby’s cheek with his thumb. "Aera," he said softly.

The room stilled.

"Aera," Namjoon repeated, testing the name on his tongue.

"It means love and light," Jin murmured. "Because that’s what she is. That’s what all of you are to me."

A beat of silence.

Then—

Hoseok sniffled loudly. "I’m not crying, you’re crying."

Jimin was already reaching for the baby, his omega crooning. "Aera-yah," he cooed, as if the name had always belonged to her.

Taehyung pressed close, his scent warm with approval. "It’s perfect."

Jungkook, ever the emotional alpha, had tears in his eyes. "Aera," he whispered, like a prayer.

Yoongi didn’t speak. But when Jin looked up, the alpha’s dark eyes were suspiciously shiny.

Namjoon exhaled, his alpha settling for the first time in days. "Aera," he agreed, leaning in to press a kiss to Jin’s temple, then one to their daughter’s forehead. "Welcome home."

[Twitter – @bts_bighit]

[Photo: The pack curled together on the couch, Aera asleep on Jin’s chest, the others draped around them like overprotective shadows.]

Caption : " Kim Aera. Our light ."

[15.2M likes, 1M comments: " THE WAY THEY’RE ALL LOOKING AT HER LIKE SHE HUNG THE MOON "]

6 Months later

The dressing room hummed with pre-show energy, but behind the closed door of the private lounge, Jin and Namjoon stood facing each other in quiet tension. Aera slept soundly in her portable bassinet between them, her tiny chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm, oblivious to the weight of the discussion happening over her.

Namjoon ran a hand through his freshly styled hair, mussing it instantly. "Are we sure about this?" His voice was low, barely audible over the distant thump of soundcheck. "She's so small, and the crowd—"

Jin didn't look up from where he was carefully folding miniature concert merch—a onesie with "Tiny ARMY" embroidered across the front, tiny noise-canceling headphones, even a doll-sized version of Namjoon's Harvard hoodie. "We've gone over this a hundred times," he said, voice steady but firm. "The pediatrician cleared her. The sound engineers designed custom ear protection. The private viewing box is—"

"It's not just about the logistics, Jin." Namjoon's alpha scent spiked—cedar and rain turning sharp with protective anxiety. He gestured helplessly at their daughter. "She's six months old. What if she gets overwhelmed? What if—"

Jin finally looked up, his omega eyes flashing. "What if she loves it?"

The challenge hung between them. Outside, the muffled sounds of the crew preparing for the show filtered through the walls—the thud of equipment being moved, the crackle of radios.

Namjoon exhaled hard, crouching beside the bassinet to brush a finger over Aera's cheek. She stirred slightly, her tiny nose wrinkling before settling back into sleep. "I just... I want her first experience with this life to be good," he admitted quietly. "Not scary. Not stressful. Not—"

"Not like ours was?" Jin finished softly.

Namjoon's throat worked.

Jin set down the tiny clothes and moved to kneel beside him, their shoulders brushing as they both watched their daughter sleep. "That's exactly why I want her there," he murmured. "Because it won't be like how we started. She won't be alone in some tiny practice room wondering if anyone will ever care. She'll be surrounded by thousands of people who already love her—by us, by her pack." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Her first memory of music should be joy, Joon-ah. Not fear."

Namjoon closed his eyes, his alpha instincts warring—the need to protect, to shelter, clashing with the truth in Jin's words. When he opened them again, Aera was blinking up at him sleepily, her dark eyes—his eyes—curious and bright.

"...Okay," he breathed, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. "Okay."

Jin smiled, bumping their shoulders together. "Besides," he teased, standing to retrieve the custom baby carrier, "you know Yoongi-hyung will burn the stadium down if anyone so much as sneezes near her."

Namjoon snorted, the tension finally breaking. "True." He watched as Jin carefully fastened the noise-canceling headphones around Aera's tiny ears, testing the fit with practiced hands. "You've really thought of everything, huh?"

Jin's grin was all teeth. "I did spend nine months planning this."

The door cracked open, revealing Hoseok's beaming face. "Five minutes, lovebirds! Oh my god, is that her concert outfit? I'm gonna die."

As Hoseok swooped in to coo over Aera, Namjoon caught Jin's hand, lacing their fingers together. Their daughter gurgled happily, her tiny fists waving as if she already knew—tonight wasn't just a comeback.

It was a beginning.

The backstage area hums with nervous energy. The members stretch, sip water, adjust their in-ears—rituals they’ve done a thousand times, yet tonight feels different. Jin bounces lightly on the balls of his feet, his fingers tapping against his thigh in a restless rhythm.

"You good?" Namjoon murmurs beside him, his voice barely audible over the distant roar of the crowd.

Jin exhales, sharp and quick. "Yeah. Just… first time back, you know?"

Namjoon nods. He does know. The weight of absence, the hunger for the stage, the fear of stumbling—all of it lingers beneath the surface. But then his gaze flicks to the side, where Mr. Lee stands with Aera swaddled in a soft blanket, her tiny noise-canceling headphones already in place.

"She’s watching," Namjoon says, nudging Jin’s shoulder. "Better be perfect."

Jin’s lips curl into a smirk. "She’s six months old. Her standards are low."

A staff member signals—thirty seconds.

The members fall into formation, shoulders brushing, breaths syncing. The familiar pre-show adrenaline surges through them, electric and unstoppable.

Then—

Darkness.

The first note hits like a thunderclap. The stage erupts in fire and light, and BTS is back.

Jin strides forward, his voice cutting through the screams like a blade—clean, powerful, effortless. The jumbotron captures the way his eyes gleam under the spotlights, the way his body moves with the same precision as before, as if no time has passed at all.

But then—he glances offstage. Just for a second. Just long enough to see Aera’s wide eyes fixed on him, her tiny mouth slightly open in awe.

Fan Reactions:

"DID YOU SEE JIN LOOK AT AERA?! I’M NOT CRYING, YOU’RE CRYING!"

A fan’s shaky cam zooms in on Aera clapping her hands clumsily, her little legs kicking in excitement.

Twitter erupts: "AERA’S FIRST CONCERT AND SHE’S ALREADY THE MAIN CHARACTER."

They’re laughing between lyrics, grinning through choreography, alive in a way that makes the crowd scream louder.

Jungkook forgets his position in the formation because he’s too busy making faces at Aera. "Yah, focus!" Jin scolds, but he’s laughing as he yanks him back into place.

Jimin and Taehyung break into an impromptu dance battle during the bridge, their movements fluid and competitive. The jumbotron splits—Jimin’s sharp precision vs. Taehyung’s playful swagger—and the stadium loses its mind.

Yoongi, mid-rap, pauses just to smirk at the crowd. "Missed this, didn’t you?" The response is deafening.

Namjoon stumbles over a step–predictable–but recovers with a dimpled grin, shrugging like "What can you do?" ARMY chants "STILL PERFECT!"

Fan Cam Moment:

Hoseok catches a stuffed animal thrown from the crowd from their security team—a tiny tiger plush—and immediately tucks it into Jin’s pocket. "For Aera," he mouths. Jin’s smile softens, just for a second.

As the music fades, they gather at the front of the stage, breathless and glowing. Jin steps forward, wiping sweat from his brow.

"ARMY…" He pauses, letting the silence stretch. "We’ve missed you. And tonight… we brought our little star."

The jumbotron CUTS TO AERA, her eyes wide as she takes in the sea of lights as she rests in Mr Lee’s arms. She blinks, then—waves. A tiny, clumsy motion, her fingers splayed.

The stadium explodes.

"She’s already a better performer than all of us," Jin jokes, his voice thick with pride.

Fan Reactions:

"SHE WAVED. I REPEAT, SHE WAVED. I WILL NEVER RECOVER."

A fan in the front row full-on sobs, clutching her heart.

Twitter update: "AERA TRENDING ABOVE BTS. NATURAL BORN IDOL."

As the actual last song ends as they wrap up their encore, Jin doesn’t wait. He bolts to the edge of the stage, arms outstretched. Mr. Lee, smiling, carefully passes Aera over.

The moment she’s in Jin’s arms, the jumbotron zooms in as her tiny nose scrunches at the confetti floating down.

Jungkook hovering like an overprotective shadow, his alpha instincts on high alert as he glares at a stray balloon drifting too close.

Taehyung guiding her little hand in a wave, cooing, "Say hello, princess."

Namjoon watching them with unstoppable tears, his alpha scent warm and proud.

Fan Reactions:

"NAMJOON IS CRYING. I REPEAT, THE PACK ALPHA IS CRYING."

A fan’s shaky cam captures Jimin whispering to Aera, "You’re the real superstar, huh?" before pressing a kiss to her forehead.

The stadium chants "AERA! AERA!" as Jin bounces her gently, his face glowing.

💜

Backstage, the members collapse onto couches, exhausted but buzzing. Aera, now asleep in Jin’s arms, grips his finger tightly.

"She did great," Hoseok murmurs, smiling.

"Better than Jungkook’s first performance," Yoongi deadpans.

Jungkook squawks in protest, but he’s too busy adjusting Aera’s blanket to retaliate.

Namjoon watches them all, his heart full. "This is just the beginning," he says softly.

Jin looks down at Aera, then at his pack—his family. "Yeah," he agrees. "It is."

[Twitter – @BTStwt]

[Video: Aera blinking sleepily as Jin carries her offstage, the members forming a protective circle around them.]

Caption: "Our tiny light. Our greatest encore. ✨ #AeraFirstConcert"

[12.9M likes, 1M+ comments]

"THE WAY JIN LOOKS AT HER LIKE SHE HUNG THE MOON."

"YOONGI FILMING THE WHOLE THING LIKE A PROUD GRANDPA."

"JUNGKOOK’S ALPHA INSTINCTS ARE IN OVERDRIVE—BRO IS READY TO FIGHT A STADIUM FOR HER."

No regrets. Just music, love, and the start of something even brighter—with Aera in the center of it all.

Twelve months was a long time to tour, despite how quickly the time had passed. It had been easier than they'd all anticipated, adjusting to the addition of an infant as they traveled the world. Maybe Aera was just an easy baby—they'd never truly know. What they did know was that her laughter had become the soundtrack to their backstage routines, her tiny hands clapping along to soundchecks, her wide-eyed wonder at each new city mirroring their own.

Now, standing under the Seoul night sky at Jamsil Stadium, the final notes of "Yet To Come" still ringing in their ears, Jin bounced Aera on his hip as she babbled into his in-ear monitor. The stadium lights caught the sparkle in her eyes—eyes that were so much like Namjoon’s—as she reached for the confetti drifting down like snow.

Taehyung stepped forward, uncharacteristically quiet. The members exchanged glances—something was coming.

"ARMY," he began, his voice softer than usual, "this tour… has been everything. But before we say goodbye…" He paused, glancing at Jin and Namjoon, who nodded almost imperceptibly. "Our family is growing again."

The crowd's collective inhale was nearly audible.

Then—

"WHAT."

Jungkook's entire body jerked like he'd been electrocuted. His alpha scent—warm honey and burnt sugar—spiked violently, flooding the stage. His pupils dilated, his grip on his mic tightening until his knuckles turned white. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN—WHO—"

Jimin burst into laughter, clutching his stomach. "Yah, Jungkook-ah, breathe!"

The jumbotron CUT TO JUNGKOOK'S FACE—mouth agape, eyes wild—and the stadium erupted.

Fan Reactions:

"JUNGKOOK JUST SHORT-CIRCUITED LIVE IN 4K." *

A fan's shaky cam zoomed in on Yoongi rubbing his temples while Hoseok wheezed, bent double with laughter.

Twitter exploded: "JUNGKOOK'S ALPHA INSTINCTS JUST CRASHED LIKE A WINDOWS 98."

Taehyung, biting back a smirk, held up his hands. "Before Jungkook-ah combusts—it's not me."

A wave of relieved laughter rolled through the crowd.

Jin stepped forward, Aera now tugging at his sweat-damp collar. "It's us," he said, nodding to Namjoon, whose dimples were on full display.

"ANOTHER BABY?!" Jungkook's voice cracked. He whirled toward Namjoon. "HYUNG. WHEN DID YOU—HOW—"

Namjoon shrugged, laughing. "The usual way?"

Yoongi snatched the mic. "Congrats. Now can we finish the concert before Jungkook's alpha panic sets off the fire alarms?"

The stadium roared.

Backstage, Jungkook was still muttering under his breath as Aera patted his flushed cheeks with her tiny hands. "Appa? Koo?" she babbled, tilting her head.

Jungkook melted instantly. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he grumbled, nuzzling her palm.

Namjoon wrapped an arm around Jin's waist, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Think he'll recover by the time the next one arrives?"

Jin grinned. "Doubt it."

Post-Show Weverse Update:

[Photo: Jungkook sprawled dramatically across a couch, Aera sitting on his chest while the others laughed around them. ]

Caption: "Alpha.exe has stopped responding. #BabyBangtan2"

[15.2M likes, 2M comments]

"AERA'S FACE SAYS 'I TOLD YOU TO CHILL, UNCLE KOO.'"

"NAMJIN OUT HERE BUILDING A WHOLE KINDERGARTEN."

"JUNGKOOK'S SOUL LEFT HIS BODY AND WENT TO THE SNACK BAR."

No regrets. Just love, chaos, and a pack that kept growing—one shell-shocked alpha at a time.

In the corner, Jimin and Taehyung sit snuggled in a makeshift nest with pregnancy tests untaken in their pockets, each with secret smiles on their faces.

Whatever the outcome, they’d be okay.