Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

I don't usually start off with a preface, but I wanted you guys to understand this and maybe me a little bit better. 

This story is based off real events in my life. It was suggested by my therapist that writing about it might be cathartic, and honestly it has been. Now I'm sure she meant like in a journal or whatever and I debated using my life as a sort of basis for this story but in the end decided to go ahead and do it anyway. I'm not looking for sympathy or anything like that just wrote the only way I know how as an author. 

There are so many kids out there that are still waiting for their forever family, and I hope to bring awareness to adoption and fostering because everyone deserves love.

I feel like Minho and Han were the perfect pair to bring this story to life and hope you agree. 

I want to thank my wonderful Beta, Valianna, who kept me pushing forward with this when it was too difficult sometimes and helped me with brainstorming. Because even though this is based on events of my life obviously it's alot of fiction too.

Please enjoy Towards the Light. 

(The title is a play on Heliotropism not Ateez's new tour haha)

Chapter Text

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

It had been three years since he and Jisung had officially mated, three years of laughter and light brought back into his life. Three years of utter perfection. Of waking up next to the love of his life. Minho ran a hand through his hair pushing it up and off of his forehead as he yawned and rubbed the heel of his hand to his eyes in an attempt to wake faster.

Morning didn’t pour through their window so much as nudge its way in—soft, amber light crawling across the foot of the bed from the crack between the curtains, then the slope of a calf, then the crease where sheets had surrendered to sleep-warm bodies. Minho lay there; body still not wanting to cooperate and watched as that sliver of sunlight find its way like a spotlight to Jisung’s still sleeping figure.

Jisung slept sprawled, a starfish tangled in cotton, one arm above his head like he’d thrown it there in his last dream. His hair stuck up in improbable directions. The edges of him were gentled by sleep—no quickfire joke cocked on his tongue, no restless foot tapping time to a melody only he could hear. Just breath. Just warmth. Just theirs.

“Staring’s rude,” Ji rasped without opening his eyes. A smile tipped his heart shaped mouth anyway.

“You’re drooling,” Minho said, deadpan.

“Slander.” Jisung rolled onto his side, hand finding the narrow of Minho’s waist like a well-worn habit. “If anyone drools, it’s you. I have a folder. Screenshots. Witnesses.”

“File them under ‘delusions.’” Minho let himself be tugged across the last inch of space. Their foreheads touched. Jisung ran a thumb along the ridge of his hipbone—an idle, anchoring touch.

“Happy birthday, ahjussi!” Jisung exclaimed, eyes finally opening, grin small but bright.

“Ahjussi?” Minho arched a brow. That was certainly a new one but he supposed he was 40 now...with a lover 12 years his junior.

“I mean…” Jisung smiled before nipping at an exposed shoulder making Minho roll his eyes lovingly.

“Shut up. You’re late if you want coffee before you deal with Chan.”

Jisung groaned into the pillow. “No one is ready for Chan before coffee. Not even Chan.”

Minho laughed—too quietly for anyone else to catch it, but his jagi always did. He pressed a quick kiss to Jisung’s temple and slid out of bed, joints clicking their tiny morning protest. Forty wasn’t old. It just… spoke up more often. A stretch, a wince-that-wasn’t, the careful roll of a shoulder. The floor was cool under his feet, the tile carrying the night like a secret.

He ground beans while the kettle shivered toward a boil. Outside, the city yawned—delivery scooters in the alley, a bus brake sighing somewhere two streets over. Familiar noises, the small percussion of a life that fit.

Jisung padded in, hair still a mess, T-shirt hanging crooked on one shoulder. He slid behind Minho and wrapped him up, chin on shoulder, the kind of hug that made the kettle’s first hiss sound like applause.

“Schedule?” Minho asked, part of their everyday routine.

“Morning in Studio B with Chan and Bin,” Jisung said into his neck, pressing a soft kiss right over his mating mark. “New verse for the chorus Changbin hates and Chan pretends not to hate. After lunch we’re comping vocals. If the universe loves me, the compressor won’t crash…and if Ayen-ah can spare some time in his busy schedule to help us with our technical difficulties” Their resident computer genius had indeed been extremely busy lately since he was discovered by Hyunjin via a gig he had and couldn’t get anyone other than the maknae to help him watch the twins while he was on set. (They refused to leave their eomma’s side because they didn’t like ‘the big meanie photographer’ who notoriously and shamelessly flirted with the beautiful Omega.)

“If the universe loved me, you’d brush your hair.” How this man became a famous music producer when he could barely function in every day life is beyond him but he’s so proud of his mate as well.

“I’m punk,” Jisung said, affronted.

“You are not punk. You buy scented candles and cry at commercials.”

“The dog found his way home, jaji! What was I supposed to do, not cry?” He kissed the slope where neck became shoulder. “What’s your day looking like?”

“Rehearsal with the newest trainee team,” Minho said, pouring water in a slow spiral. Steam ghosted his face. “They count in their heads and forget their knees exist. It’s like coaching a flamboyance of flamingos.”

“You love them.”

“I hate sloppy arms.”

“You love them,” Jisung repeated, sing-song.

Minho didn’t argue because he didn’t need to. He poured their coffee, handed over one mug—three sugars, too much milk, the way Ji swore fueled creativity—and kept the black one for himself. They drank at the counter, leaning hipbone to hipbone, silence an easy sweater.

“Remember we’re having dinner at Hyun and Bin’s tonight.” Jisung asked, mouth already glossy with coffee.

“Mm.” Minho nodded. “Felix said he’ll bring something from the café Seungmin is ‘supervising’ by which he means criticizing.”

“Jeongin just texted, said he’ll be coming straight from set. And he’s sorry.” Jisung’s smile tightened. There goes that hope that the universe was looking out for him.

“He’s going to be insufferable,” Minho said, fondly.

“You say that like he hasn’t been since he was ‘discovered’.” It’s not that the maknae of their pack was disrespectful or bragged. No, if anything he was extremely humble about becoming an model, but it did mean he wasn’t available all the time to help with their production of music and while Jisung was extremely proud of Jeongin, Minho knew he worried that their precious Ayen-ah would get too busy for them altogether.

“Come on. I’m sure you can talk to him about gigabytes and such later tonight to keep his mind on the prize.” The prize being a new album they were producing for one of the new debuting groups Minho was choreographing for today.

<><><><><><> 

The company building breathed a different kind of morning—air-con chill, the faint metallic tang of elevators, the sharper scent of cleaner that clung to mirrored hallways. Posters marched down the corridor, eras caught in glossy rectangles: a debut smile here, a stadium roar there, years stacked like records. Minho still paused, sometimes, when he passed the third-floor landing where his first routine had been filmed. The mirrors were new. His memory wasn’t.

In Practice 2, six soon to be debuting idols lined up unevenly, hope bright as sweat on their foreheads. They were all angles and nerves: knees locked, shoulders riding their ears, mouths determined. Kids, some of them. All of them someone’s once-upon-a-dream.

“Again, if you want to make it to debut you have to be better than that. Why does it seem like you’re regressing? You can do this routine in your sleep, I know it. Now do it again.” Minho said. He’s known for being a little on the harsher side but got results and that’s all that mattered in this industry.

“Oh come on, hyung…” One of them muttered but their leader forced him into a bow with an apology to do better and they started again.

They reset. The track pulsed through tinny speakers, beat a heartbeat too loud. His body moved before his brain—demonstration clean and precise, the path he wanted them to carve already sketched in muscle memory. He didn’t bother raising his voice. He didn’t need to. They watched him like he was gravity.

“Count is one-and, two-and, three—stop throwing your arm like you’re hailing a taxi,” he told the boy in the second row. “You’re not flagging down a ride. You’re placing a blade.”

The kid swallowed, nodded. Tried again. Better.

“Loosen your jaw,” he told the boy on the end. “You don’t have to clench your teeth. Relax your arms, the movement needs to be sharp but your body should look fluid.”

They ran the sequence in pieces, then as a whole. By the fourth pass, they were sweating for real, shirts dark at their spines, faces pinked. One miscount, then a clean save. A stumble, recovery. The small triumphs that stitch a team together.

When he cut the music, they stood panting, eyes on him.

“You want the move to look easy?” he asked. “Make your transitions invisible. Your body does the work; your face tells the story. Again.”

They didn’t groan. He loved them for that.

His phone buzzed during a water break—a message from Jisung:

Jagi:

Chan is on espresso number two. Pray for me.

My baby:

Tell him to touch grass,  Minho typed chuckling to himself

My baby:

 Or at least go outside once.

Jagi:

He said the sun is a rumor invented by PR teams.

A second bubble popped up: a pic of Chan squinting at the camera like it had offended him, Changbin blurry in the background laughing, a coffee cup raised in surrender. Jisung’s caption:

 Studio B, day 1000 of our captivity.

 Minho’s mouth pulled into a smile he didn’t have to fight.

He flexed his right knee without thinking. It answered with a small ache—just information, he told himself. Not a verdict.

“Ahjussi?” the boy on the end asked, hovering at the mirror. There’s that title again, ugh. Minho wanted to roll his eyes but he was a professional and he was close to 20 years older than most of them if not slightly more.

 “When you say ‘place a blade’… can you show me again?”

He did. Slower. Patient. He watched his hands like they were a language he was learning too late and wanted anyway.

“Better,” he said when he mirrored him. “You don’t need to be an ahjussi to be precise.”

“I’m didn’t say you’re old,” he blurted, and then flushed scarlet. “I just— I mean— I—”

“I am,” he said, dryly laughing. The boys panic broke into a nervous laugh. “Go again.”

<><><><><><><> 

    Hyunjin and Changbin’s place smelled like them. Their floral and amber scents mix well with that of oil paints, and toddlers. Someone’s scooter lay abandoned by the shoe rack. A canvas leaned against the wall—wet, brilliant swathes of blue holding their breath. The twins’ laughter ricocheted around the hallway before the boys themselves appeared, one careful, one comet.

“Samchon!!” Jang-ho launched at Jisung’s thighs at velocity. Ji braced just in time, oofing out a laugh as he scooped the boy up and spun him once. “Again!”

“Hi, trouble,” Jisung said, kissing a sticky cheek.

Jung-seok hung back a beat, eyes solemn in a way that tugged. He toddled forward and put his hand in Minho’s. “Hello,” he said, precise as ever. “We drawed a dragon.”

“Drew,” Changbin corrected, appearing with a dish towel slung over one shoulder. He ruffled Jung-seok’s hair, then pulled Minho into a hug that thumped. “You’re early. Good. Help me stop Hyunjin from salting your birthday soup like it insulted him.”

“Art requires flavor,” Hyunjin said from the kitchen, not looking away from the pot. His hair was half up pieces of it tumbling out of the tie, sleeves shoved to elbows, a smear of ultramarine on the back of his wrist like jewelry.

“Hello, family.” He beamed at them before blowing kisses at them while simultaneously attempting to chase down Jang-ho because he was trying to take his pants off…again.

Felix arrived moments later with a carrier balanced on one arm and a box from the café in the other hand. Seungmin trailed behind him, expression fondly exasperated carrying the rest of the goods with him.

Felix kissed Chan’s cheek as he maneuvered through the doorway to take the carrier from his mate with a kiss to the forehead. Their little girl following pushing her way inside to help her ‘Hyune-imo’ do god knows what in the kitchen.

“Tae-joon’s been a wiggle worm all afternoon,” Felix announced, eyes softening the second he looked down. “I’m ninety percent sure he’s part octopus.”

“Only ninety?” Jeongin asked, breezing in on a gust of cologne. He wore something sleek and black that probably cost a month’s rent and made it look like a thrift score. He flashed a grin. “Bottega loves me.”

“As they should,” Seungmin said giving his mate a quick peck his cheek as he got close enough. “Your jawline should have its own calendar.”

“I’d buy it,” Hyunjin said. “Support the arts.” Minho laughed when Hyunjin pinched the maknae’s dimpled cheek a little too hard and Jeongin grumbled like a petulant toddler.

Speaking of toddlers the twin chaos escalated, as if on cue. Jang-ho tried to steal a dumpling off a cooling tray; Hyunjin arched an eyebrow so sharp it could’ve sliced sashimi. Jung-seok solemnly brought Minho another crayon drawing and explained that this dragon was friendly because he had “good scales.” Whatever that meant. He couldn’t know the inner workings of a three year olds mind instead he just smiled and thanked him for the drawing. Jin-Ae, fierce and bold, held court at the coffee table with a plastic tea set, bossing everyone with a crispness that was pure Chan when she was serious and pure Felix when she smiled. She looked up when Minho crouched beside her.

“Hi, Minho-imo,” she said, enunciating every syllable like a tiny CEO. “Do you want tea? It’s blueberry but just pretend not real.”

“I would be honored,” he said, accepting the empty cup. She beamed. He sipped nothing like it was everything, ignoring the dull ache in his heart that always seems to be there when he's around his pack's children. 

He was fine. He was fine because this was joy you could hold—sticky-fingered, loud, ridiculous. He was fine because this was his family and the ache wasn’t a betrayal so much as proof that his heart still knew how to want.

Yet as he sat here in the middle of Changbin and Hyunjin’s living room surrounded by screaming children and laughing adults he couldn’t help but feel like something might still be missing.

Once dinner was officially declared served, Hyunjin’s soup was both too salty and somehow perfect. Changbin told him he should have followed a recipe that he claimed he did; he absolutely did not. Chan attempted to bottle feed Tae Yoon with the kind of concentration he usually reserved for a song whose melody was evading him. Felix fluttered, fussy and delighted in equal measure. Seungmin and Jeongin were talking about something amongst themselves that had Seungmin rolling his eyes but smirking anyway.

“How are the new trainees coming along?” Chan asked, as bowls were passed and small hands were wiped and the twins’ attention spans were bribed with sticker sheets.

“Slowly,” Min-so said. “Half will be ready before they think they are. A quarter will need time and kindness. A quarter… should consider accounting.”

Changbin barked a laugh. “Harsh.”

“Truth can be sometimes,” Hyunjin said, sipping, then making a face. “Okay maybe—just a pinch—too much salt.”

<><><><><><> 

When the kids began to sag—post-sugar dips, the particular wobble toddlers got when their bodies announced bedtime—the party dissolved the way family parties do: in stages, with ten goodbyes and fifteen false starts. There were shoes to shake out, jackets to locate, and a stuffed bear to rescue from the couch cushions. In the doorway, Jin-Ae hugged Minho’s legs and then announced, very seriously,

“Just remember whenever you feel bad for being old; Appa is older.” Then she allowed herself to be scooped back into Chan’s arms, who tickled her for her offense to his age giggling like she had no remorse.

     On the walk to the car, cool evening air put its hand on the back of Minho’s neck. Jisung laced their fingers, swinging their arms once like they were daring gravity to scold them.

“You were quiet,” Jisung said, not a question, not an accusation. Just a place to set something down.

“Was I?” Minho hummed lightly.

“Mm.” Jisung bumped his shoulder.

“I guess I was just thinking.”

“About?” His mate was always so patient with him. Throughout the years they’ve had trouble conceiving, what with Minho’s heat coming further and farther between as he got older. He didn’t answer though, too scared to voice it out loud and ruin the night they’ve had. It is his birthday after all. Thankfully his Jagi didn’t push.

🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹

They drove with the windows cracked, city noise threading the edges of music from the radio—something Jisung had produced three summers ago that still sounded like heat mirage and neon. Home was a short ride and a long exhale. Jisung could tell something was bothering Minho. He knew him like the back of his hand, better even. His scent was also a dead giveaway. The usual cup of tea on a soft, dewy, spring morning scent now a harsher earthier tone. More like the smell of earth after a thunderstorm.

Once inside, they moved around each other like choreography they’d learned without noticing they were practicing: shoes off, lights low, shirts tossed onto the same chair they always promised to stop abusing. Jisung stood in the doorway of the bedroom and watched Minho tug the sheets straight. He started to say something when Minho beat him to it.

“I thought…” He stopped. Started again. “I thought I had time.”

Jisung straightened, turned. He didn’t come closer yet. “Okay?”

“My heats are—” Minho swallowed. Like he was having a hard time getting the words out. “They’re irregular. Have been, for a while. I keep thinking they’ll steady. They haven’t.”

Jisung’s face didn’t break. “I know that. I’ve known for a while but thank you for telling me.”

“I should’ve—earlier. I didn’t want to make it real by saying it out loud.” He rested his knuckles against the doorframe. “It’s stupid.”

“Nothing about this is stupid.”

“I’m not twenty-five,” Minho said, aiming for wry and missing, skidding into raw instead. “I know what biology is. I teach bodies for a living. I just… I thought I had more time.”

Jisung crossed the room now, slow enough that Minho could have stopped him and didn’t. He put his hands on Minho’s arms, thumbs rubbing warming circles on his arms. “Just because you’re older doesn’t mean you have less love to give because we have less time.”

Minho shut his eyes. The breath he took tripped, then steadied. “I don’t want to drag you into a hope that makes us both drown.”

“You’re not dragging me anywhere. I’m walking with you. Remember our vows? I meant them, even when it’s time to put you in the nursing home I’ll be right there beside you. You never have to do anything by yourself.” Jisung said softly joking, trying to lighten the mood just a bit. 

Silence made a small shelter around them. City sound. The fridge humming. Somewhere down the hall, a neighbor laughed. Minho still seemed uncertain.

“Let’s see a specialist,” Jisung suggested. “We get information. Whatever it is, we meet it. Together.”

Minho let out a breath Jisung hadn’t noticed he’d been caging and nodded. “Okay.”

Jisung’s  mouth touched his forehead first, then his cheek. “Okay.”

Minho leaned into him like he had a hundred mornings and a hundred nights before. The weight of his body both comforting and familiar in Jisung’s arms.

Outside, the world moved. Inside, they held on.

<><><><><><> 

The next morning went as it always did. Minho woke up ungodly early to go for a run trying to lure him out of bed as well. No sir! Sleep was precious!

When Minho got back he could hear him going through the morning routine. Shower, then laundry. Muttering to himself about divorced socks? Jisung couldn’t help the smile on his face as he finally stood and shuffled into the kitchen twenty minutes later, tugging at a sleeve that insisted on rolling itself. He knew he was wearing the same expression he always did on early studio mornings—half excitement, half dread—but the lines around his mouth were softer, less careless.

“Morning,” Jisung said half yawning.

Minho slid a mug across the counter. “Drink this before you try to produce anything.”

Jisung sipped obediently, lips pressing around the rim. “Mmm. Survival.” He glanced up, cautious, gauging. “You okay?”

Minho looked like he considered lying. Considered the effort it would take to build the scaffolding of words he didn’t mean. Then he shook his head once. “No. But I’m not broken either.”

“Good,” Jisung said, brushing his fingers against the scent gland on Minho wrist. “We don’t do broken here. Just… works in progress.”

“Okay I need normalcy. What’s the schedule for today?”

Jisung quirked his heart shaped mouth just a bit before answering. “Still working on that song for the album for that new group you’re working with.”

“I do need that final song so I can get them the choreo, jagi…” Jisung knew that tone of voice. It was Minho’s ‘annoyed’ voice.

“Well once our beloved maknae manages to find the time to come look at our system again we can hopefully get it finished.” Sometimes he really wished he were still with the big company and they could just buy another system. Not that they were struggling because honestly this past year had been going great for them. Their little indy label starting to become not so indy. Chan was just a cheap bastard and refused to get new equipment until it blew up apparently.  

“Okay there done. He’ll be there in the afternoon. Now go before you’re late...again.” Minho put his phone back down on the counter while Jisung cursed the clock and he chugged his coffee, already planning on picking another one up at the café.

<><><><><><>

The studio was awake by nine.

Awake, but not caffeinated enough for Jisung’s liking to be sane. Changbin was already in Studio B, headphones slung around his neck, body half-hunched over the console like he was wrestling it into submission. Chan leaned against the far wall with an americano the size of a pint glass. His hair was damp, shirt clinging at the collar. He looked like he’d been awake since yesterday.

“Sorry sorry I tried to get here earlier but Seungmin uh…lost my keys.” Jeongin barreled in like a fire was on his heels.

“Uh-huh…maybe try a better excuse? Or just tell us you fucked this morning and were late because of that.” Jisung smiled cheekily, looking exactly like the animal Jeongin always accused him of looking like.  “Accountability Innie, you should try it some time.” Either a pen or a pepero was thrown at his head, which he barely managed to dodge before Chan snorted.

“Leave the kid alone. He’s a famous model now, you can’t blame Seungmin for wanting a little action with someone who graced the cover of W Korea.”

“Shut up, didn’t you need my help with your soundboard or something? Minho hyung threatened my balls if I didn’t fix it today and I’m kind of attached to them — no pun intended .”

“Compressor,” Changbin muttered. “Keeps crashing on bounce.”

Chan made a sound like thunder considering whether to roll. “I told you not to install the patch last week.”

“You also told me to ‘trust technology,’” Changbin snapped.

“I said trust hardware,” Chan corrected, sipping. “Software is a liar.”

Jisung watched as Jeongin bullied Changbin out of the swivel chair before their bickering could spiral into another loop.

“Let me look at it.” His long fingers flew over the keys, screens flashing different graphs. His mind seemed like it ticked faster than his words, but he still narrated for their benefit. “Okay, okay, it’s not the compressor—it’s RAM choking. You’re running too many plugins on this session. Half of these are redundant anyway.”

“Redundant?” Changbin bristled.

“Three EQs stacked on the same vocal chain is redundant, he’s right” Jisung said. “Chan, back me up.”

Chan looked thoughtful, then sighed. “I hate to say it, Bin, but…” He gestured toward Jisung.

“Traitor,” Changbin muttered.

The argument melted into rhythm. That was how it always went: noise turning into music, sparks into fire, three minds colliding until something beautiful fell out. With the occasional input from their maknae who surprisingly had a good ear for music.

By noon, they had a verse smoothed into shape and a chorus that almost breathed on its own.

Jisung leaned back, cracking his spine against the chair. “Lunch?”

Chan rubbed his eyes. “Felix sent some pastries and jajangmyeon. Said he’d have Seungmin stab us if we didn’t eat.”

“Good man,” Jisung said, stretching. His phone buzzed. He glanced at it, thumb pausing on the screen.

An email confirmation glowed back. Specialist Appointment: 10:00 AM, Thursday.

Jisung’s throat went dry. He didn’t delete it. Didn’t mark it unread. He just slid the phone face-down and pressed his palms against his knees blowing out a nervous breath.

“What’s wrong, Ji?” Changbin, ever observant, asked with a mouthful of noodles.

“You guys know how Min and I have been trying for pups for a while now right?” Chan nodded slowly, like he wasn’t sure if he should actually answer or just let Jisung ramble on like he tends to do.

“Well obviously it hasn’t happened and during dinner last night I could tell he was sort of out of it. He loves all your children really but I also think it might hurt him a little. So, I suggested we see a specialist.”

“That’s good though, right? Or did Minho hyung knock you on your ass and refuse?” Fox-like eyes glared at Bin who stole a white chocolate passion fruit petit four off his plate — one of Felix’s newest creations for them to test — and waited for his response.

“No nothing like that. He agreed but I just got the email confirmation and now I’m nervous. What if it’s all bad news? What if he hates me when he hears said bad news?” There was something deep in Jisung’s brain that tried telling him it was his fault. That if only he were…no he couldn’t think like that. Not again.

“Ji, you can’t just assume the worst. Maybe you’ll get great news.” Chan was too positive for what he was feeling in this moment. So instead, he veered the conversation to anything else.

Whatever happens he and Minho will handle it together.

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

Minho usually got home before Jisung, the younger Beta getting too lost in his work before he realized how late it was and inevitably rushing home just in time for Minho to put the food on the table. Today was nothing crazy, simple meal of baked fish, some cucumber salad and leftover rice as his body was practically dead and his mind even more so.

He had gotten the email from the specialist and had to retreat from the rehearsal room to catch his breath. He knew it was a promising idea, knew he’d at least get some sort of answers this way, but he was also worried if they got the wrong answer then his mate would leave him for someone who could give him what he deserved.

Yes, logically Minho knows that would never happen. Jisung would never leave him, they were two halves of the same whole. But it didn’t stop that mean little voice inside his head telling him that’s exactly what would happen if he couldn’t conceive.

He had wanted to run over to the studio he knew his mate would be in and let his soft ginger, sandalwood scent ground him. That would do neither of them any good though and would be entirely unprofessional. While at work they rarely talked to each other, no need for rumors to be going around. It didn’t stop him from wanting his mate though.

Jisung placed a kiss to his cheek as he stole a piece of cucumber Minho had been cutting for their dinner. He received an eye roll and loving tap on his bum for his efforts.

“How was today? You’re flamingos coming along any better?”

“They get in their head a little too much and nothing I say helps them. They can do the dance, I’ve seen each of them nail the parts singularly it’s just when they come together they have no…camaraderie. They’re all trying to outdo each other instead of working as a team. I called in a favor though and have some people coming in to show them what great teamwork looks like.” Minho didn’t like having to resort to it but if anyone can it’s thirteen men who redefined what synchronization in the industry meant when it came to dancing. He was just glad that Seungkwan answered his phone call.

“What about you? You get that computer thing worked out?”

“Yes, jagi, thank you for threatening Innie for us.” Jisung gave him his cute little tightly pressed smile he tends to do when trying aegyo.

“What are you guys gonna do when he embraces this modeling thing fully? Can’t have him running off set to fix an old computer Chan refuses to replace.”

“I keep telling him that! I think I’m just going to sneak the company card away one day and go get one. Forgiveness not permission ya know?” Minho laughed at his mate’s penchant for mischief, as they finished eating.

     It wasn’t until they were getting ready for bed that the appointment was brought up. Jisung’s voice quiet as he asked.

“Did you see the email? Does that time work for you, like are you able to get off work?” Minho nodded while pulling the duvet back to slide into their bed. Reaching for Jisung without words. Just a hand against his chest, a lean of forehead to shoulder. Instead of asking what was probably a million more things that was surely floating around in his mate’s pretty little head, Jisung just folded him close, the way he always did, like it wasn’t even a choice.

“We can do anything together, Minho. I know we can.”

The appointment wasn’t until Thursday. But it was already here, crouching at the edge of everything.

Chapter Text

🐰🐰🐰THURSDAY🐰🐰🐰

By the time the alarm went off, he’d already been up an hour.

The apartment still wore its dawn colors—muted gray pooling in corners, a single line of pale light sneaking under the curtain like an apology. Minho had forgone his usual morning run so nervous he was worried he might actually throw up if he exerted that much energy so early in the morning. Instead, he tiptoed into the bathroom, showered too hot and too fast, dressed twice, and sat at the edge of the bed without meaning to, hands folded the way you do at funerals and first days while waiting for Jisung to wake until sighing and deciding he needed tea.

The house seemed too quiet for what he was about to go through today as the kettle clicked to life with a tired complaint. He leaned his hip against the counter and watched steam start to ghost from the spout, the way it always did, the way it always would no matter what the day decided to take. On the stove sat last night’s pot, rinsed but not washed. A mug—his—rested where he always left it, turned upside down to keep the dust out, the rim catching a sliver of light.

Jisung padded in, hoodie sleeves shoved up, socks so violently mismatched it felt like a dare. He clocked the air and the posture and the way the kettle seemed louder today, then put on a smile with no edges.

“Morning, jagi,” Minho said, because he needed a sentence that wasn’t I’m afraid.

“Morning,”  Jisung nudged Minho’s hip with his own and reached for the cupboard. His fingers brushed the inner part of his wrist just ghosting over his scent gland on purpose and then didn’t linger, also on purpose. “Toast?”

“Please don’t burn it.”

“I would never.”

He burned it immediately.

The scrape of the knife against char was somehow comforting, a small domestic failure that meant the world could still be ordinary in some corner.

They ate like people who had forgotten how to talk. The weight of today looming over both of them. The clock ticked across the room with the oblivious confidence of an object that has never been told it was cruel. Somewhere below, the throat-clearing cough of the delivery driver floated up the stairwell. Somewhere above, a neighbor set down something heavy, picked it up and then set it down again.

“You don’t have to come,” Minho said, not because he meant it but because he didn’t know if he could handle his own emotions with this much less Jisung’s.

Ji didn’t look up. “Don’t start with lies.”

“It’s not—” He stopped. The kettle’s cooling click filled the space between the words he didn’t want. “If it’s bad news, I don’t want it to bruise you, too.”

“Then let it,” Jisung said softly. He put the knife down and turned his hand palm up on the counter, an invitation rather than an order. “Bruise me. I’d rather carry the same bruise than watch you pretend you don’t have one.”

Minho fitted his hand over Jisung’s, the way it always seemed to fit, the webbing of their thumbs finding each other like a memory. He nodded once, because if he spoke he wasn’t sure what would shake loose.

They washed the two plates and the one pan and argued quietly about whether or not a hoodie was clinic-appropriate. (It was, said Jisung. It isn’t, said Minho; he lost.) They checked for the wallet, the card, the note with the address, the little packet of tissues left over from an old cold that suddenly felt like the bravest thing in the apartment.

In the elevator, a couple rode down with them, big smiles and matching umbrellas. The man held his partner’s purse without being asked. The woman was round with expectant life and Minho tried not to let the twinge of jealously seep in. It was harder than he expected it to be. When they reached the underground car park, Jisung gripped his hand, squeezing gently once in support and they started towards the car they only used when public transportation seemed too daunting.

Outside, the city had woken into cool air and bus exhaust and the particular clatter of morning—the metallic chorus of a rolling gate, the scold of a bicycle bell, a child protesting a backpack strap. Life kept happening.

It was obscene and merciful at once.

They didn’t play music in the car. The solemnity of the moment taking hold.

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The clinic had tried its best to look like not-a-clinic. Someone had chosen waiting room chairs with wooden arms and olive-green cushions. A potted plant put on a brave face in the corner, leaves bright. The receptionist’s voice was kind in the way that meant she’d said a thousand names into the same quiet.

“Good morning. Do you have an appointment?”

Jisung said yes because Minho was busy looking at the floor like it held instructions. The receptionist slid a clipboard over the counter—forms that asked for information the body used to provide without an audience. Names, dates, cycles, all neat lines, as if the words could be contained by ink and boxes.

Jisung filled in the first half fast seeing as how it was all basic information he knew. The second half went a little slower as Minho had refused to even look at the paper. His pen hovered once over last heat cycle trying to remember without asking his already too nervous mate. Once finished he took the paperwork back to the receptionist who told him they would be called back shortly.

So they sat.

Across from them, an Alpha–Omega couple held hands so tightly their knuckles were white. Two seats over, a Beta–Beta pair took turns pretending to read the same pamphlet twice. The sound in the room wasn’t silence exactly—it was expectation, muffled and polite, like everyone had agreed not to make the day harder than it needed to be for strangers.

A nurse called Minho’s name. Her smile made space rather than demanded anything of it. “Right this way.”

The hallway was nicer than the waiting room—art prints instead of posters, light that felt like daylight even if it wasn’t. The exam room smelled faintly of lemon polish, the kind that lingers in schools after everyone’s gone home.

A doctor entered with her palms open and her voice set low, as if she’d tuned into the room. Mid-fifties, hair in a neat twist, eyes that made you feel like she’d been doing this long enough to know exactly how not to rush a person into an answer.

“I’m Dr. Baek,” she said. “Thank you for coming in. I know days like this are… heavy.”

She didn’t say hard. Heavy was better. Heavy suggested weight you could eventually become strong enough to hold.

They talked first, before they examined anything. History, she called it, though it felt like confession by gentle prompts.

“When did you first notice your heats were irregular, Minho-ssi?” Jisung watched as his normally confident mate froze.

“A few years ago,” Jisung offered, the words clipped, careful. “The last year… more so. Sometimes they don’t come at all.”

“I see. And how often have you attempted conception?”

A small silence. “Regularly,” Jisung saved when Minho continued his vow of silence. His throat was dry. “We tried to track. It’s hard to track inconsistency.”

Dr. Baek nodded. Writing down on the pad in front of her before turning her eyes to his Omega. “Have you ever used heat inducers or hormonal support before?”

“No.” Minho finally spoke, his fingers locked together in his lap. He didn’t unclasp them to gesture, didn’t fidget. “I told myself it would even out. It didn’t.”

“This isn’t something you fix by force of will,” Dr. Baek said softly. “But you were not necessarily wrong to wait. Bodies are not machines. But you are also not wrong to want more information now.”

She reviewed his labs—baseline levels within normal limits, nothing alarming, nothing miraculous.

Then she looked up and folded the paper lower, so nothing was between her face and theirs.

“I’m going to be as clear and as kind as I can be,” she said. “At forty, Omega fertility declines significantly. That doesn’t mean never. It does mean less likely. And in Beta–Omega pairings, for reasons we can talk through in as much detail as you’d like, spontaneous conception is rarer to begin with. Beta biology does not trigger ovulation as reliably as Alpha biology. It can happen. It does happen. But it happens less.”

The words were soft, but they still hit like a clean wave. Not a slap. A pull—out and under.

Jisung felt the chair on the backs of his thighs like an anchor and wished he could take the sentence out of the air and hold it so it didn’t land on Minho, who sat as still as a portrait.

“Is there anything I can do differently?” Jisung heard himself ask, quiet and absurd, like a student bargaining for extra credit in a class where the syllabus was written in muscle and time. “Supplements, timing, I—” He shut his mouth.

The needling edge of guilt was ridiculous and real. He had often wondered if he were part of the problem and it seemed verified with this conversation. If only he were an Alpha maybe they wouldn’t have had such a hard time. Maybe Minho wouldn’t feel incomplete. Because even if he didn’t say it out loud, Ji could tell. Every time they were around their friends' pups. Yes, his mate loved them but there was a distance in his eyes as well. Like he had been resigned to never having what their friends had.

“There is nothing you are doing wrong,” Dr. Baek said, and looked at him the way a good coach looks at the player who keeps volunteering to run extra laps. “This is not about effort or worth. It is biology and chance.”

She let that sit. Then she continued, practical without letting go of the thread.

“We have options if you want to pursue them. One is a heat inducing protocol—a medication to encourage a predictable ovulatory response. It does not guarantee conception, but it can improve timing and, in some cases, raise the odds somewhat. Side effects can include a more intense heat than you’re used to, dehydration, cramping, irritability. Another option, if this is something you would even want to consider later, is assisted reproduction with donor material. And there are also paths to family that don’t require pregnancy at all.”

The last sentence was placed carefully, no less valid than the others. She didn’t look away when she said it.

Jisung stole a wary glance at his mate whose mouth opened and closed once before finally getting the words out.

“If we try the inducer,” he said, voice low, “and it doesn’t—if it doesn’t happen—”

“Then you will have done what you could,” Dr. Baek said. “And you will still be the same people you were when you walked in. Grief may happen. That is not failure. It is evidence that you loved a possibility.”

The room held the three of them steady for a beat.

“What would the protocol look like?” Jisung asked, steadier now, because he was good at being a student when there were steps. He was going to make this as easy for Minho as he could. Learn what he needed to do to get the best results possible for them. Minho deserved this.

“Nothing too crazy,” Dr. Baek said, reaching for a pamphlet on the small cabinet behind her desk. She walked them through it, fingertip skimming the lines without tapping like a metronome.

“You’ll take the first dose when you get home. If your body responds, you can expect ovulation within a narrow window—anywhere from one hour to 24 after taking it. Because your cycles are irregular, we won’t try to predict. During the heat, you’ll likely feel… more. More of everything. Plan to hydrate aggressively. Rest. And talk to each other beforehand about what support looks like from your partner.”

Jisung nodded because his voice had folded itself away somewhere in his chest. He memorized the shape of the pamphlet instead: the rounded corner where someone’s thumb had worried the paper in the copier room, the small ink smudge in the margin by notify clinic if heat lasts longer than…

“Do you have questions for me?” Dr. Baek asked. “Or do you need a few minutes to sit with this first?”

“Is there—” Minho started, then stopped. Almost as if he were too afraid to ask whatever question was floating around in his head. Instead he just said, “No. I— Thank you for being honest.”

“Thank you for letting me be,” she said, and it sounded like she meant it. She stood, but not like she was leaving; like she was giving them the power to dismiss her.

“I’ll step out for a moment. I’ll send the nurse back with the prescription. You don’t have to decide everything today. You don’t have to decide anything alone.”

When the door clicked shut, the room’s silence took a breath.

Minho looked down at his hands like they belonged to a man he respected and wasn’t sure how to comfort.

“You okay?” Jisung asked, even though he knew the answer already.

“No.” Minho smoothed his palms once over the thighs of his pants, a gesture that Jisung had learned he only ever did when nervous. “But I’m listening.”

“To what?”

“To the part where she said we’ll still be ourselves.” He watched as Minho’s throat bobbed on a swallow. “I didn’t realize how afraid I was of becoming… less.”

“You’re not less,” Jisung said, and the words came out steadier than anything else he’d said that morning. “You’re my favorite person. Biology can go to hell.”

A laugh broke out of Minho, small and startled. It vanished quickly but not before it did its work— allowed air to move through the room again.

A knock. The nurse appeared like she’d been practicing gentleness in hallways for years.

“Here’s the prescription,” she said, placing a small stack of things in Jisung’s hands: the printed protocol, a card with a number on it in case they needed to reach the doctor at 2 am for whatever reason, another pamphlet that he'd read later if given a chance. 

“There’s a pharmacy on the first floor. They’ll give you a usage kit—thermometer, electrolyte packets, that kind of thing. Take your time. There’s no rush to leave.”

“Thank you,” Minho said, and the words sounded like something other than habit.

They didn’t leave yet. They sat another minute in the chairs that were trying their best to be kinder than chairs. Jisung reached over and, without looking, threaded their fingers together. Minho’s grip was firm this time, not an apology.

“Thank you…for being here with me. I —just thanks.”

“Min, there’s nowhere else I’d want to be right now. You and me? We’re in this together.” It wasn’t the first time he said he this but he’d say it as many times as he needed to ease his mates worries.

When they finally stood, the paper in his hand crinkled like a small, well-behaved storm. The hallway’s light didn’t change. The plant in the waiting room still made its brave, private photosynthesis. The receptionist smiled a smile that had seen outcomes of every kind and still believed in people.

Minho looked at the prescription in his hand like it was both lifeline and dare. His fingers twitched like he had wanted to hold it so Jisung held it out like a peace offering.

“Pharmacy?” He asked, voice low.

“Pharmacy,” Minho agreed, his fingers trembling as he took the prescription from his hand and led the way.

The man, a Beta if Jisung had to guess, stood at the counter with a polite smile.

“Next please.” The couple moved up to the counter and Minho slid the paper across to him. The man told them he’d be right back and five minutes later the white paper bag was in his hands. Minho had frozen in place again so Jisung took it upon himself to take it.

The pharmacy bag was heavier than it had any right to be. The pharmacist spoke with the same kindness Dr. Baek had—steady, gentle, as if he knew this counter had held too many trembling hands before.

“Injection kit,” he said, sliding it across. “Preloaded. Clean needle. Alcohol swabs. Use the thigh or upper hip. Fast onset—usually within the first two hours. Don’t be alone during induction. Hydrate. Rest. If anything feels unmanageable, call the clinic. Here—” he tucked in electrolyte packets and a digital thermometer. “These help.”

“Thank you,” Jisung said quickly, sliding his card across before Minho could reach for his wallet.

After they paid Ji led them out with his free hand on the small of his Omega’s back. He was stiff, like he was waiting for it to fail before they had already tried.

The car ride home was just as quiet as on the way to the appointment except this time, the crinkle of the paper bag louder in the silence around them. Every time it did he swore he saw Minho flinch. His usually steadfast mate being this nervous had his own instincts on edge but he locked down his scent as best he could, tried to make it soothing. From the subtle dip in his mates shoulders it worked…if only slightly.

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Once home he set the bag on the counter like it might detonate. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Jisung pulled the box free and unfolded the instruction sheet, smoothing it flat against the counter with careful fingers.

“Thigh or hip,” he read aloud. “Hold still. Deep enough to breach muscle. Press slow, steady. It says to—” He stopped, glanced up. His eyes were steady, even if his voice trembled. “Let me.”

He saw the hesitation in Minho’s eyes, not for lack of trust but because it seemed like he had to work himself up to the task.

“Let me,” Jisung repeated, softer now.

So Minho stood there, tugging his pants low on one side until the curve of hip showed pale in the kitchen light. Jisung took the alcohol pad and swiped at the exposed skin with efficiency before pinching it to get a solid foundation for the needle.

“Ready?” Jisung asked.

Minho nodded robotically.

The sting was brief but sharp, a burn that sank deeper than surface. Instinct pulled his hand to Jisung’s wrist, gripping hard, not to stop him but to tether himself. Ji pressed the plunger with slow care, thumb steady, then drew the needle free and pressed a kiss gently over the spot.

“All done,” he murmured, voice reverent.

Minho exhaled, long and shaky. “I guess now we just wait.”

Minho tried to be normal.

He fussed in the kitchen, made them a simple dinner and now he was washing the dishes, finding comfort in the rhythm of water and cloth. He had much preferred to wash dishes by hand instead of allowing the dishwasher to do it. There were only two of them after all.

In the living room, the television muttered in the background; some anime rerun they weren’t watching. When he looked over towards his mate Jisung was folding laundry, socks paired into improbable marriages just for the fun of it. The round cheeked man grinned at him, a flash of warmth that was almost enough to distract from the air beneath it—the hum of waiting, the anticipation sitting between them like static.

<><><><><><> 

The first wave came quietly about 2 hours later. A warmth low in Minho’s belly, a flush along his chest. He ignored it, folded his legs beneath him on the couch and waited for it to pass.

Then it doubled.

By the time he could take a steady breath again, his hands were trembling. Heat prickled along his spine, sweat blooming at his temples. The room tilted sharp. He tried to stand — legs immediately giving out on him.

“Min?” Jisung was there instantly, hands steady at his waist. “Is it starting?”

Minho gasped, thighs pressing together, hips rolling without permission. His cock was already hard, leaking against the fabric, his cunt flooding slick between his legs until it soaked through. “Fuck—” he panted, clutching Jisung arms. “Too fast—”

“I’ve got you,” Ji said, already guiding him toward the bedroom. “Let’s get you comfortable—”

But Minho was already squirming against him, heat clawing through his veins, need dragging every thought under. By the time his back hit the mattress, he was shaking, breath breaking on every gasp, hips grinding against the sheets.

“Jagi—” His voice cracked, raw with desperation. “Please—I can’t—”

The first thing he lost was shame.

His heat was clawing at him from the inside, slick soaking through his sweats and spreading wet against his thighs. His cock throbbed where it strained against damp fabric, precome leaking in steady pulses, and still it wasn’t enough—nothing was enough. He clawed the waistband down with shaking hands, desperate to be bare, desperate to cool skin that only burned hotter.

“I know, baby, I know.” Jisung was pulling his hoodie over his head, already crawling onto the bed. His hands were everywhere at once—on Minho hips, his thighs, his face—trying to ground him, hold him, love him through something that felt more like possession than biology.

“Need you—need everything—” Min gasped, spreading wide, dragging Jisung down against him. His cock rubbed  against his mates sweats, wet and messy, while his cunt clenched around emptiness so sharp it ached. “Fill me—fuck, fill me, I can’t—”

“Shh.” Jisung’s  mouth was at his throat now atop his mark, kissing, sucking, murmuring. His hands found the curve of Minho’s hip before moving to his thighs,  spreading him, thumb brushing over the swollen, dripping entrance that clenched around nothing. He pressed two fingers in at once, and Minho nearly sobbed in relief.

“Yes—yes—more, please, don’t stop—” He rolled his hips down greedily, grinding onto Jisung’s hand like an animal, chasing stretch, chasing fullness. His cock twitched, drooling precome across his stomach, his chest heaving. His body was a live wire, nerves screaming more more more.

The Beta worked him open with steady patience even as his own breath broke ragged, his cock hard and leaking against the fabric of his shorts. He added a third finger, then curled them deep, hitting the spot that made Minho’s vision white out.

“Fuck—fuck, I’m gonna—” Minho gasped, hips snapping, body clenching around Jisung’s fingers until the orgasm ripped through him—hot, messy, sudden. His cock spilled across his stomach in thick spurts, but the release did nothing to quiet the fire. He came with a cry, shuddered through it, and still whined, still clawed at Jisung’s  arm.

 “No—don’t stop, don’t stop, I still need—”

Jisung groaned in a timbre so deep it almost sounded like an Alpha’s, pulling his fingers free, slick dripping down his hand. “I’ve got you, jagi, I’ll give you everything.”

He shoved his sweats down, cock springing free, flushed and hard. No Alpha knot to anchor, but he pressed the head against Minho’s slick entrance, groaning at how hot and wet it was already.

“Please—now, now—” Min was almost feral, heels digging into the sheets, dragging Jisung closer. “Inside—need you inside, need to feel you—”

Jisung pushed forward, slow at first, then lost to the way Minho sucked him in, greedy, slick walls clenching and pulling until he bottomed out. The heat swallowed him, wet and hot, and Minho keened, clutching at his shoulders. If it were any other time he’d be embarrassed of the sound that left him but his brain only had one thing on the mind.

“Fuck—you’re so—so deep, oh god, Jagi—”

Jisung thrust, steady and hard, the sound of skin meeting skin wet and obscene. He kissed Minho’s mouth, swallowing his cries, whispering into him: “I love you. I love you. I’m here.”

Minho broke apart again within minutes, the pressure too much, too sharp. He spilled across his chest, screaming as his cunt clenched desperately around Jisung, milking him, demanding more. Jisung didn’t slow. He fucked him through it, through the spasms and shakes, until his body sagged—only to surge again, hips rolling like instinct, begging for more.

“More—don’t stop, don’t stop, please, I still need—”

“I’ll give you everything—fuck, you feel so good—” Jisung rasped, sweat dripping down his temple.

Minho felt his thighs being pushed up higher, Jisung driving deeper, every thrust pulling helpless noises from his throat. His cock bobbed between them, throbbing with need that wouldn’t quit. Jisung —wonderful mate that he was— grasped said cock and began stroking it in tandem with his thrusts. Stars formed around him, a  third orgasm building like a wave. Minho’s whole body tightened, mouth falling open on a ragged cry as he came his cock jerking in Jisung’s soft hand as his hole convulsed around his cock, slick gushing, body wrung out but still demanding.

Jisung was trembling now, pushed to the edge and ready to explode. His thrusts lost rhythm, turned frantic, his forehead pressed against Minho’s , words spilling between clenched teeth.

“I’m close—gonna—fuck, gonna come—”

“Inside,” Minho begged, nails digging into his back even though he knew he’d get what he needed.

Jisung groaned, deep and broken, and came hard, spilling inside him, cock pulsing as he thrust through it, hips grinding to push as deep as he could.

Minho cried out at the warmth, at the wet fullness, at the illusion of everything his body craved. He clenched down, milking it, holding Jisung’s cock hostage inside his body as if he could trap hope there by force.

They collapsed together, both shaking, sweat-slicked and gasping. Jisung’s hands never stopped moving—stroking Minho’s thighs, his hair, his jaw—anchoring him, loving him, even as Minho whimpered with aftershocks.

The orgasm barely faded before his body demanded again. His cock twitched back to life almost instantly, already leaking across his stomach, already aching. His slick cunt clenched and fluttered around Jisung’s softening cock as though it were starving.

“Ji—” He whined, high and needy, hips rolling up. “Don’t pull out—please—please, I can’t—”

His Mate groaned, burying his face against Minho’s throat. “Baby, you just came.”

“I don’t care—need it—need more, need you,” Minho gasped, writhing beneath him. “Fill me again, please, it won’t  stop—”

Jisung kissed the frantic words from his mouth, shushing gently even as his hips started to move again, slow friction dragging through the slick heat. Minho moaned, arching, clenching hard enough to drag him back into hardness within minutes.

“Fuck—” Jisung swore against his mouth, voice wrecked. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“So die in me,” Minho panted, almost feral with need. He dragged Jisung closer, strong dancer’s legs hooked tight around the lean waist.

Jisung thrust deeper, faster, and Minho broke again, slick flooding from him, his voice raw as he screamed through the next orgasm— he lost count of how many he’d had now. His hole clenched desperately, sucking Jisung deeper, milking him for everything.

But still the fire didn’t go out.

Even as he shook and sobbed, his cock stayed hard, aching. His body trembled with overstimulation and need all at once, tears streaking hot down his cheeks. It was simultaneously too much and not enough

“Ji—Ji, I still—fuck, I still need more—”

Jisung gently pushed sweaty hair from his face, kissed the tears away, whispering raggedly, “I know, jagi, I know. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

He shifted them to where Minho was on his belly, and drove into him again from behind. The new angle had Minho screaming, clawing at the sheets, his cock grinding into the mattress as he begged, babbled, cursed.

“Ji—harder, harder, oh fuck—yesyesyes—”

He heard another groan as Jisung pounded into him, the wet slap of their bodies obscene in the darkened room. Minho could feel Jisung’s body preparing for his own release, dragged out of him no doubt by the way Minho’s cunt gripped him like it would never let go. He spilled again with a strangled cry, he could feel the release flooding deep inside of him, leaking out because it was just so much.

Minho convulsed, climaxing almost simultaneously, his come splattering the sheets, his body seizing around Jisung’s cock like he could wring every last drop from him.

And still, it wasn’t enough.

Hours blurred. Jisung’s cock softened, hardened again, each time slower to rise but always rising under the relentless grip of Minho’s heat. He fingered him when his cock couldn’t keep pace, tongue-fucked him until Minho screamed, stroked his cock even as it twitched painfully.

By the time dawn hinted gray against the curtains, Minho was wrecked and trembling, body damp with sweat and come, voice shredded from begging. He collapsed into Jisung’s chest from his position on top, finally too exhausted to move, but even then his hips twitched weakly, chasing.

Jisung stroked his back, murmuring against his damp hair, “That’s it, jagi. You did so good. I’ve got you. Rest now. Just rest.”

Minho’s voice was a broken whisper, barely there. The thought that had been rolling around in his head all day finally making its debut.

 “What if… what if this was our only chance?”

Jisung’s arms tightened, holding him like he was the only thing left in the world. Not trying to placate him with empty promises of hope. Truly he loved his mate for that. His jagiya always understood him.

Chapter Text

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Two days later his heat finally broke, the doctor wasn’t lying when she said he would feel more.

His poor jagi probably wouldn’t want his dick to be touched for a while after the plethora of sex. Not that their love life had been lacking but two days of marathon sex would have anyone tapping out.  Honestly if it weren’t for some lingering heat feelings, he would probably say the same thing.

Minho stretched his body as much as he could and lay there just staring at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above them.

Light seeped around the edges of the curtains, thin and gray as lint. The sheets were damp where the night had burned through them; the mattress still held their shapes—two bodies, both wrung out in the ruins of hope. When he moved, the ache came everywhere at once—a deep, used soreness along his inner thighs, a tender pull low in his belly where the heat had kindled and raged.

He lay still and listened. The refrigerator clicked. A neighbor’s door down the hall slammed, laughte ringing down the hallway. Beside him, Jisung’s sleep evened out into the loose breaths of someone whose body had kept its promise far past reasonable. His palm, heavy and warm, rested low on Minho’s stomach like it was standing guard.

“Maybe.”  Minho thought, the word tiny and insolent. Maybe this took. Maybe this time, after all the trying, after the feral nights, his body would hold onto what it had begged for.

He let the thought sit there, small and bright, and didn’t touch it.

When he finally eased out of bed, stiffness protested in his knees and hips. The bathroom mirror caught him on the way to the shower: hair a snarl, lips swollen, love bites fading down the band of his shoulder, across his chest and stomach, down his thighs. Evidence. He held his own gaze for a beat too long, then turned on the water and let the steam do the work of softening the soreness.

“Hey,” Jisung croaked from the doorway, voice shredded but smiling. He wore loose sweats that hung low on his hips giving him a tantalizing view of that vein he loved to trace with his tongue and nothing else. “Would you like some help?”

“If I say yes, we probably won’t end up showering.”

“I’ll make sure we’re on our best behavior.” Jisung winked as he shed those sweats and stepped under the spray of water. Minho felt the stickiness of slick slide down his inner thigh almost immediately. A naked Jisung was too much temptation for his post heat induced mind. He saw his mate’s nostrils flare and his soft ginger sandalwood scent became stronger.

“I thought you were gonna be the one who made sure we behave?” Minho teased but stepped into him anyway.

“I mean, I may have texted Chan hyung this morning and told him I couldn’t make it in again today. And I know you’ve been given a full week off so…” Jisung let the sentence hang between them as he gripped Minho’s waist and pulled him further into his embrace. The action was so overwhelmingly attractive that the raven-haired man forgot everything else almost immediately. He groaned as Jisung kissed him without abandon, his mates skilled fingers traveling lower.

“You still so wet, jagi.” Said with fluttering touch through his folds. The overstimulation made him let out a sharp whine.

“Ji…more…please.” Minho tried to ride the fingers inside him only for them to disappear. He was about to complain when Jisung fell to his knees, water cascading all around him.

“What-“ He was cut off when his foot was propped up and teeth nipped at a bruise on his inner thigh before being followed by a tongue.

“Wanna taste you.” Boba eyes stared up at him through ridiculously thick lashes, never breaking eye contact as that tongue curled around his small omega cock. It was never Minho’s favorite thing until his jagi came along and blew (ha!) away every other blow job he had ever received. Seungmin had said something about it just being Jisung that made it that way and maybe he was right.

His mind blue screened when said mouth moved lower, lapping up slick from the source.

“Fuck—jagi— you taste so good. Like my own personal ambrosia.” Jisung used his thumbs to spread his cunt wider, tongue dipping inside him at a slow leisurely pace. It was the best kind of torture.

Jisung kept at his ministrations until Minho was literally weak in the knees and on the verge of an orgasm. A hand reached behind him to turn off the water then suddenly he was being picked up and hauled back to bed.

“My beautiful Omega —you’re so perfect for me.” The praise made him light headed or maybe it was the edge or release either way he couldn’t get enough. Minho rolled them, taking control with his dancers' thighs, and sank down on his mates cock in one fell swoop. The pace he set was brutal, his ass meeting the top of Jisung’s thighs with a loud, wet slap. His pussy flexing tightly with every upward motion, trying to coax out his mate’s seed.

“Shit, Minho...” Jisung’s head plopped back into the pillows where before he was intent on watching. A loud groan leaving his mate’s heart shaped mouth. Minho wanted that. So he took. He leaned forward, licking those lips he loved so much until they opened and swallowed the next moan to come from him.

His movements started to stutter, hips coming down slower and slower. When Jisung palmed his erection that laid between them he was lost. Cumming so hard he lost his vision for a few minutes. When he came to, Ji had a soft wet cloth cleaning between his thighs and murmuring sweet nothings to him.

It wasn’t until his stomach let out a devastating growl that either of them said anything.

“I’m sore.” He let the admission be simple because they had earned simple. “And hungry.”

“Hungry I can fix.” Jisung chuckled before placing a small kiss to his temple and telling him to stay. There was rustling in the kitchen, a soft curse thrown into the wind (Jisung probably burning toast again) and came back 15 minutes later with a plate of fresh fruit, only slightly burnt toast and scrambled eggs.

“It’s not exactly a balanced breakfast but it’s what I can manage.” That was saying something too because Minho was the one who cooked since his jagi would burn (and had) water. Honestly it was impressive the apartment was still standing.

Minho sat up, tucking the sheet around his waist and fluffing the pillows as the tray was laid across his lap.

They ate without rushing. The clock in the room ticked the way clocks have ticked through every era, indifferent to people learning to live beside them.

When they finally got up, he washed the two plates, their elbows bumping together gently. When he dried, Jisung hooked their pinkies together like the quietest promise.

They didn’t say maybe. They didn’t say if. They just let the day stand around them while the word rooted deeper, bright and stubborn.

<><><><><><> 

The days afterwards took their shapes.

On Monday, the trainees were late to count four and too early to count five.

“Again,” Minho said, because the body doesn’t learn in declarations. It learns in repetition and patience. He showed them the line—hand slicing air like a blade and not a wave, knees soft and relaxed not locked—and watched 6 sets of eyes try to drink him in like water and they were in the Sahara. When the youngest executed the turn but froze his mouth into a grimace, he said gently,

“You don’t have to clench to be sharp. Relax your jaw. Anger isn’t the only way to be powerful.” He blinked fast and nodded like this was a thing he could take home and practice in the mirror.

At lunch, he ate standing up in the corridor, texted back and forth with Jisung.

My Baby:

How’s Studio B?

Jagi:

Bin is fighting the compressor again.

I’m fighting lyrics.

How are your flamingos?

My Baby

Improving.

They discovered their knees.

Come home before nine.

Jaji:

Yes, ahjussi. 😘

     On Wednesday, he passed the baby aisle at the supermarket because the other one had been undergoing some sort of shelf renovation and fate has a sense of humor. He didn’t stop. He did notice the socks, tiny and stupidly adorable and packaged in threes as if the world expected loss. He pushed the cart past without pausing—milk, oranges, broccoli he would bully himself into eating—then found himself in the next aisle holding his breath like a diver.

His mind going back to the socks, and onesies, and tiny little hats that had bunny ears flopping out the top.

Minho fought himself to walk away.

     On Friday night, at Changbin and Hyunjin’s, the table was a collage of real life: crayons under plates, a stain in the wood where someone’s cup forgot itself, three different kinds of kimchi because no one had agreed on the proper level of anger for cabbage. Jin-Ae setting the table with ruthless efficiency, Felix standing there gazing at her lovingly while Tae-joon nursed at his breast. The twins were a two-man weather system—Jang-ho a cyclone in socks, Jung-seok a steady drizzle with a surprisingly loud thunderclap when he chose.

“Imo,” Jung-seok said too seriously for a three-year-old, placing a drawing in Minho’s lap. “This is for you.”

“For me?” Minho said, equally serious. “It’s so pretty, thank you.”

“Like you,” the boy added, then turned pink and retreated to Hyunjin’s knee as if he’d admitted to a crush.

Jisung met his eyes and smiled, chubby cheeks turning his eyes to tiny crescents.

Laughter rose and fell around them. In the corner, Chan took Tae-joon from Felix with a softness that betrayed his looks, the tiny boy’s fingers trying to fit around his father’s thumb and coming up delightedly short. Jeongin showed Hyunjin a Damiani campaign photo on his phone while Hyunjin pretended that he wasn’t insanely proud of their maknae and asked three unnecessarily technical questions about lighting.

It was joy, simple and unadorned. It did its best to include him.

Sometime between the twins’ second and third escapes from their clothes because that seemed to be their favorite thing to do, Minho felt the seam open in his smile. Not a rip. A seam, like the place where two pieces had been stitched and the thread needed checking. He excused himself to the bathroom, ran water till it went cold, and splashed it onto his face.

When he came back out, Jisung caught his gaze but didn’t ask. He just slid a hand along the small of his back as if to say, I’ve got you.

🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹

Jisung had been back to work for a week now but his brain just wasn’t in it. Every lyric he wrote told the wrong story. Every note played was too harsh. By the time Changbin came in dragging an overdressed Jeongin along with him, the younger muttering something about how he doesn’t work for them yet sat down and messed with their stupid old computer Chan insisted on still using because ‘It’s given us a lot of good songs.’ No one argued that a new computer with better system could give them great ones.

“Any news?” Chan has sat down next to him, holding out part of the muffin Felix had no doubt sent with his Alpha because everyone knew Chan often forgot to eat when in full on work mode.

It had been a week since Minho’s intense drug induced heat and every day he could see the hope in his mates eyes dwindle further and further as the wastebasket in their bathroom filled up with negative test after negative test.

Jisung shook his head, taking the muffin offered to him and squirreling it away in his cheeks while he spoke.

“I’m worried about him. He says he’s fine but I can tell he’s not. And I don’t know what I can even do to fix it. Short of miraculously becoming an Alpha.” He meant it as a joke but the tight press of lips on his friends face told him he caught the underlying self blame.

“No, Ji, don’t do that. This isn’t your fault, it’s not anyone’s fault.” He supposed Chan was right. It was just something that happened sometimes but why the fuck did it have to happen to them? Minho deserves this. He deserves to have a pup, hell he deserves to have ten if that’s what he wants.

“It’s just— it’s hard to see him like this ya know?” Minho was his rock, the one that kept Jisung going every day. To see him so…small was heartbreaking.

Chan’s gaze flicked once to someone behind him before he felt a hand on his shoulder and that small action broke him.

“I thought—” he said, and stopped, because the rest was jagged. The air in their studio shifted—quiet, not strained, like everyone had agreed to give the moment room to be what it needed.

“I thought if we wanted it enough,” he managed, and the next word tripped, “if we—” He took a breath that made no difference and pressed his palm to eye to try to block the wetness that threatened to spill out. “It’s stupid.”

“It isn’t,” Chan said, easy as breath. “It’s human.”

“I always thought there’d be little shoes by the door,” Jisung whispered, and the image did him in. “I thought there’d be someone learning to clap at bad rhythms in my living room. I thought—” He broke off. Tears surprised him not because they came, but because of how quietly. Not a flood. A leak he couldn’t fix. He bowed his head and let them drop fast and hit onto his jeans.

“You’re allowed to cry,” Chan said. “You don’t have to make it pretty or quick.”

“Now it just feels like the door’s closed.”

“Sometimes one door closes,” Jeongin said for the first time, voice low, “and a different kind of door is there. Family hasn’t ever been one shape in our world. You know that. You help make that true.” Their maknae truly was wise beyond his years.

<><><><><><> 

When the day finally came to an end and they were heading outside to meet his mate to head home, he was surprised to see Felix there as well with his and Chan’s children, talking to Minho about something.

When he reached them, Minho’s eyes were dry, but his face was the kind of subtle puffiness that meant the crying had done its work and left.

“Hey,” Jisung said, asking with his eyes if everything was alright.

“Hey.” Minho’s mouth tilted, a tired attempt at a smile those bunny teeth he loved so much making a rare appearance. “You look like a producer who arm-wrestled reverb and won.”

“I cheated,” Jisung said. “I eventually went out and just bought a new computer. It was either that or toss myself out the window.”

“Dramatic,” Chan muttered softly under his breath while taking his son from Felix’s arms.

They walked home to the car park together—Jin-Ae telling them about her day at school, Tae-yoon babbling up a storm and making grabby hands at Minho who tried to act like he ignored it. They were just about to split up to head towards their respective cars when Felix’s deep voice stopped them.

“Oh, remember that community outreach thing I was telling you about last month? And you all agreed to help? Well it’s tomorrow.” Everyone there immediately started to talk at once. Chan saying that as much as he wanted to help truly, there was just too much work that needed his attention at the studio (not necessarily a lie) Changbin said one of the twins had a doctors appointment he already told Hyunjin he’d take him to. Jeongin had a meeting with someone over at Elle Korea to discuss a photoshoot they wanted him to do. Minho sounded the most apologetic when he said his flamingos still couldn’t get the dance break down and still had a lot of work to get there so he couldn’t. Jisung on the other hand was mostly done, just had to clean up a few things here and there nothing that couldn’t wait a day though so he agreed.

“Yeah of course. What time and where?” Felix beamed at him like he had hung the fucking moon giving him a quick peck on the cheek much to the dismay of his mate who grumbled lightly in his chest like he couldn’t help himself. They went their separate ways after Felix said he’d pick him up in the morning and they can head there together.

The ride home was quiet, just quick run downs of each of their days. Neither of them talked about the cloud of uncertainty hanging above their heads as the city lights blurred around them.

Once inside the door Jisung toed off his shoes and set his bag down in the closet. He watched Minho go into the bathroom, heard the wrinkling of the paper that held yet another pregnancy test behind the closed door and held his breath until it opened again. His feet took him to his Omega on instinct, Minho’s shoulder were slumped, defeat written across his face. Up close, Minho’s eyes look not just tired but weary. Jisung slipped his hands up to cradle his face, thumbs resting by the curve of his ears.

“Let’s stop,” he said, and the words arrived gentle, no fanfare. “Just for now. Let’s just be together. Love each other. That’s enough for me.”

For a second, he thought he’d said it wrong. That stop would sound like give up to a man who had never once stopped doing anything without wringing it for meaning. But Minho’s jaw loosened. His shoulders relaxed. He leaned forward until their foreheads touched and stayed there, breaths syncing the way they always did when words had done their work and could rest.

“Okay,” Minho said eventually, soft, like he had been waiting for someone else to say the words he had been thinking.

He pulled Minho down onto the couch and tucked him into the corner, legs tangled, Minho’s head pillowed against his chest. The TV stayed off. The silence just what they needed in that moment.  Jisung ran his fingers through Minho’s hair till the tension unwound, strand by strand. He bent to press a kiss into his temple.

“I’m here,” he stated simply.

“I know,” Minho murmured into his shirt.

They stayed like that until the clock forgot to matter and the room darkened around them. When Jisung finally coaxed him to bed, he did it the way he did everything worth doing—with his hands and his voice and his stubborn, ordinary love.

The sheets were cool.

The night found them.

The ache stayed.

So did they.

Chapter Text

🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹

Jisung woke early the morning of the community event and he didn’t know why. Something about this day seemed big already, like something important was about to happen in his life. Now he wasn’t one to who went around seeing signs of a higher being in everyday life but today definitely felt like he should be on the lookout.

As nimbly as he could, Jisung unraveled himself from his sleeping mate and headed off to start coffee (for him) and tea (for Minho), knowing that the Omega would be up shortly. It was a strange thing but both he and Minho had a hard time sleeping without the other one next to them. Which sucked when Jisung had to go away on business but thankfully it wasn’t very often. Perks of working for yourself he supposed. By the time he started on cooking their breakfast a still half-asleep Minho came up behind him, dropping his forehead onto Jisung’s shoulder.

“Why are you up so early, jagi?” Mumbled into his skin followed by a small kiss over their mating mark.

“Don’t know. I had this strange dream, and it woke me.” The brunet managed to at least start their breakfast before Minho sighed and took over once he saw Jisung struggling to cut the green onions the correct size—not that he knew there was a correct size, especially for a gyeran bap where it’d eventually just get mixed with the rest of the ingredients.

“A dream about what?”

Jisung pursed his lips as he watched Minho start heating up the rice leftover from last night while also cooking two eggs for them.

“I can’t remember. It felt important though, like life changing maybe?”

Minho quirked an eyebrow out of what he hoped was curiosity and held out utensils for him along with a bowl of the gyeran bap which they shared while leaning against the counter. Jisung loved that no matter how busy they were they always managed to have breakfast together. Their own little ritual.

“Let’s hope it’s life changing in a good way then.” Minho fed him from his own spoon before taking a bite for himself and something deep within told him that’s exactly what it was going to be.

<><><><><><> 

The community event Felix had put together was impressive. There were so many different things going on— a pet adoption, a silent auction to raise money for a neighborhood playground, a stage for local Indy artists, even a bake sale which was where he was stationed for the day with Seungmin barking orders around while a Felix was off talking to a lady that ran an orphanage.

Jisung was rolling his eyes yet again as Seungmin was trying to tell him he couldn’t put the croissants next to the brownies. That’s when he saw her, a little girl who couldn’t be any older than 5 sitting on a bench as far away from the other children as she possibly could and clutching to a stuffed cow like it was a lifeline. Something about her struck a chord with him.

“I’ll be right back.” He interrupted whatever rant Seungmin had still be going on about — he wasn’t actually paying attention— grabbed a muffin and headed towards the little girl.

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

It was too loud.

Voices clattered like dishes all around her. Children ran in circles, laughter bouncing hard against her ears. The air held too many smells, and it sat heavily in her nose. She kept her hands tight on her cow when the lady with the folder went off with the pretty man with the baby, holding it until her fingers hurt.

She sat on the bench and tried to make herself small. Tried to blend into the background around her.

She wanted her obāchan.

Her eyes stung, but she didn’t cry. Crying made people touch, and she didn’t want touch unless it was the right kind—the kind that felt safe.

Then she saw him.

This one was walking up to her with a soft heart shaped smile on his face and a muffin in his hand smelling of ginger, and a candle that her grandmother used to light sometimes, and something— almost familiar— else that eased her. And when he crouched in front of her, his voice was even, steady, like a stone dropped in water it eased the butterflies that were flapping angrily in her tummy.

“Hey,” he said. “Why are you hiding over here all by yourself?” She tilted her head trying to figure out what he was saying to her when the man held out the muffin for her.

Her fingers moved before she even knew they did. Taking the blueberry pastry from him and taking the smallest bite. It was really yummy! She ate the whole thing quickly deeming it safe then looked up at the man. He was still smiling, still crouched down.

“Arigatou gozaimasu.”

“Ah you speak Japanese?” The man asked in the same language but with a funny accent. It was the first time she’d heard someone speak her native language here in Korea.  The other kids would make fun of her terrible Korean but he didn’t. It made her feel just the tiniest bit safer.

She nodded her head but didn’t say anything else. And when he went to leave she grasped his pinky like a lifeline, she didn't know why.  Just knew that he felt...safe.

He didn’t pull away.

So she didn’t, either.

🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹

It wasn’t what he expected to feel when he agreed to help out one of his best friends today. He thought he’d carry boxes, trade sarcastic remarks with Seungmin, let Felix run circles around himself worrying about pastries. He hadn’t thought his heart would lodge itself in his throat over a small girl sitting quietly on a bench.

But here she was, clinging to him like it meant something.

She didn’t say anything, just stared with wide, serious eyes.

Everywhere he went, she shadowed him. If he bent to help a child tie a shoe, she edged close until her hip touched his shoulder. If he hefted a box, she clutched his pant leg to be sure he was coming back. She didn’t chatter like the others, but her silence was alive, deliberate, like she was waiting to see if the world would hold.

His chest cracked wide with something he didn’t know how to name.

The social worker noticed, of course. She came over with her folder hugged tight, her voice the professional kind of soft that tried not to scare anyone.

“I see you’ve met Hinano. You’re good with her, she doesn’t even get along with the other children. Probably the language barrier. Her Korean still has a long way to go.” she said.

Jisung glanced down at the girl pressed against his side. “She’s just… holding on.”

“She doesn’t usually,” the woman said. “Her grandmother brought her here from Japan about a year ago. Apparently, the parents weren’t…fit to be parents according to her. She’s since passed though —” her eyes softened—“it’s been hard. Hinano’s only been with us for about a month now. She’s been so brave.”

The words knocked the air out of him. He looked down at the small hand fisted into his sleeve, the solemn eyes staring up like they were measuring if he was permanent or not. Brave, the social worker called her. Brave felt too heavy for someone so little.

“Does she… have anyone else?” he asked.

“Not that we know of and we’ve contacted the Japanese government asking for their aid any way they can help,” the woman said carefully. Then, after a pause, she slipped a card from her folder. “If you want to talk more. It’s not quick. It’s not simple. But sometimes the right people appear at the right time.”

Jisung tucked the card into his pocket with shaking hands.

Hinano’s grip tightened, as if she could feel the weight of it, too.

The rest of the day went by without her saying a word. But he did manage to get a little smile out of her when he started arguing with Seungmin about the proper colors for cupcake frosting. Obviously, they should be orange and red and yellow to match the fall foliage, silly Seungmin.

It wasn’t until he started packing up to leave that he noticed her getting fidgety.

“Don’t leave.” Her bell-like voice timid as she gripped his hand harder. It broke his heart into a million pieces. Someone this small shouldn’t have to be feeling this way. Shouldn’t have to be all alone in this world. He didn’t have time to respond before the social worker came to gather Hinano, pulling her away from him.

He tried to pretend he didn’t see the wetness in her eyes.

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

When Jisung had come home that night he could tell something was bothering him. They made dinner in unusual silence, his catlike eyes following the Beta’s every movement. It wasn’t until about halfway through eating and the millionth sigh from Jisung that he decided waiting for his mate to talk wasn’t the way to go about this right now.

“You okay?”

“Yes…no…I don’t know.” Another sigh, “There was this little girl today. I saw her sitting all by herself, looking like a sad puppy so I took her a muffin. Turns out her grandmother had just died and they’re trying to find someone to care fo her…”  The way Jisung’s voice caught, the way his hands wouldn’t stop moving—he could tell he hurt for this little girl.

“She followed me, Min. Everywhere. Wouldn’t let go. And when the social worker talked about her not having anyone else—I just—” Jisung broke off, dragging a hand through his hair. “I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Silence stretched. Minho felt an ache in his chest like he could feel what his mate felt during the event. Minho didn’t even know there would be children up for adoption there. Felix probably didn’t say anything to him to help guard his heart, sweet man that he was.  Something about the way Jisung spoke about the little girl though intrigued him. Not her back story, but Jisung’s strong feelings for this girl he had just met.

“Do you think we could meet her together?” he asked before he could stop himself. She wedged her way into his mates life in such a short amount of time that she had to be special. He could feel it.

Jisung’s head jerked up. “What?”

“If you’re okay with it…” Minho swallowed hard. “I'd like to meet her too. Can we arrange that?”

Jisung fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the card. His voice shook. “The social worker gave me this. Just in case.”

“Then call,” Minho whispered.

The phone call was short but careful. The social worker remembered him, remembered Hinano’s unusual attachment. Yes, they could arrange a supervised visit later that week. Neutral ground. No promises, just possibilities.

When Jisung hung up, Minho could feel the apartment as it hummed with something fragile but real. His earthy barley tea and fresh earth scent turning into something heavier. Like a landslide during monsoon with his self doubt.

Jisung crossed the room, wrapped his arms around him from behind, and kissed the back of his neck. “It’s going to be okay.”

“What if she doesn’t like me?” Minho closed his eyes and leaned back into the hold.

For the first time in months, his chest didn’t feel like stone. It felt like air moving again.

That night, they lay tangled together, neither admitting they were awake, both hearts buzzing with fear and hope in equal measure.

Chapter Text

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

He changed his shirt three times and still didn’t like the reflection of the person that stared back at him.

Button-down: too formal. Knit: too soft. The black rehearsal tee made him look like he’d come to judge. He stood in the closet—open shelving, warm wood, the faint cling of his own scent in the fibers, earthy and clean—with a hanger in each hand and felt ridiculous, like a teenager before a first date, only the stakes were a life and the venue smelled like crayons and disinfectant.

“It’s not a runway,” Jisung said gently from his place leaning against the door frame. “Or a performance review.”

“It’s more important than either,” Minho said putting the hangers back and reached for a slate-blue henley he hadn’t even known he’d owned. The sleeves pushed easily to his forearms. Neutral. Nonthreatening. Pairing it with dark blue jeans he deemed himself ready.

“Hot,” Jisung said with that smiled he loved so much, then sobered. The subtle curl of his scent brushed the air, calm and steady easing Minho’s own in a way he didn’t know he needed. “You ready?”

“No.” Minho tugged on a sleeve once, twice. “Yes.” He exhaled and, without thinking, smoothed a folded throw in the nook by the window where he unconsciously nested early this morning—soft textiles, a basket of books, the place he went when the world was too sharp. “Don’t let me… hover.”

“It’s going to be alright,” Jisung promised confidently. This switch in roles they were having lately really threw him through a loop. His mate was usually the more anxious of the two with Minho needed to assuage his fears and if he were honest with himself—while he loved every version of Jisung—this version was extremely attractive to the Omega right now.

Minho shook his head of some not very family friendly thoughts that popped into it and pulled up the social worker’s email even though he’d memorized it: supervised meet; orphanage playroom; one hour; try to keep scents as neutral as possible. He placed the phone face-down, picked it up, placed it down again. His hands didn’t know what to do.

On the way down in the elevator, his scent wanted to rise—an instinctive Omega response to anxiety.  He kept his breathing even, let the tea and rain notes stay low so they wouldn’t overwhelm a child who wasn’t his yet. Jisung leaned shoulder-to-shoulder the weight of him did more to soothe him than his own breathing techniques.

Outside, the morning hadn’t decided between sunshine and overcast and chose both. They didn’t play music in the car. The quiet was both welcomed and a little unnerving.

“Whatever happens today,” Jisung said when they stopped at a red light, looking straight ahead, “we're going to be okay.”

“I know,” Minho said, and tried to believe it.

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

The folder lady came into the room she shared with the other girls with a smile that seemed too fake and holding a dress that was too orange; she hated orange. 

“Okay Hinano, there are some people coming today to see you. How about we get all pretty for them?” The little girl only understood about half of what she said but knew it wouldn’t matter anyway. Adults always made the rules and she’d just have to go along with it.

Hinano allowed the lady to aggressively brush her hair, without complaint because complaining brought ouchies.  It was styled in two pigtails high on her head then braided; at least she liked that. After all the primping, she was taken down the hallway to a room she’d never been in before.

The room had a carpet that felt like grass under her shoes. Toys lived in bins with pictures on the front so you could know where they belonged. The air felt different—like the scent had been washed out of it on purpose. She didn’t like it

“It smells funny.” Her words broken on the syllables, but she tried her hardest. She always tried her hardest because she didn’t want to be yelled at.

“It’s scent neutral. Helps everyone’s noses to be fair.” The lady with the folder said, motioning for her to go further into the room.

Hinano sat two chairs away from the table with the crayons, hands tightly clasped in her lap. She wanted her grandmother. 

The door opened. The man she had meet the other day came in with another. A pretty man, prettier than the fairy looking one with the baby on his hip from the picnic.

Her fingers flexed, a strong urge to reach out and grab his hand ran through her but she just sat there.

The squirrel cheeked man saw her. His eyes did the warm thing that made her think for a moment he was happy to see her. They talked to the lady for a moment. The pretty one’s kitty like eyes glancing over to her once, a small smile on his face when she made eye contact. He smelled like something she remembered but couldn’t quite place. It carried something like outside after rain—but it was quiet, like he was holding it back in his shirt.

She didn’t run. She didn’t go close either. She watched and waited.

“Hinano, you remember Han-ssi from yesterday right?” Her head tilted, once again trying to decipher the words.

“Let me,” the man told the lady before switching to her language. “I’m Minho, you met my mate Jisung yesterday. He told me so much about you that I just had to see you for myself.” Her eyes moved over to Jisung before looking back at Minho whose smile was all bunny teeth. It made her own smile come out.

“Bunny.” She reached out for him, instinct telling her she’d be safe. Once he grasped her hand, she took him over to the table with the colors and sat down with a plop fussing with the ugly dress she was forced to wear.

“You look like you want to fight the dress.” Jisung squatted down next to them, knees knocked together and hands laid upon them. It made him seem smaller.

“It’s ugly. I don’t like orange.” She took the crayons out of the box, dumping them all on the table so she could line them back up based on size. It just made more sense this way in her little mind.

“No? Well what’s your favorite color then?” Her Bunny asked actually looking interested in her answer.

“Green. I used to have a pretty green dress…but haha cut it up because I was a bad girl.” It was her favorite with little kitties all over it. She heard Bunny suck in a breath but didn’t look up. Adults always seemed to look at her different when she talked about her mama.

“I—uh, I like green too. Specifically, that minty green color.” His voiced seemed different, almost like he wanted to cry but was holding back the tears. She didn’t like that he was sad.

“Sungie? Color?” She asked instead trying to make them smile again.

“Red. But all colors can be pretty.” Hinano crinkled her nose. It reminded her too much of the man in the red house who would touch her even when she cried and made her call him grandpa even though he wasn’t. But her Sungie wasn’t like that nasty old man…right? No. He gave her muffins and spoke to her in a soft voice and colored a kitty purple. He brought her Bunny. So maybe re wasn't so bad after all. She hummed then handed him the red crayon from her row. 

🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹

He could tell within five minutes that she liked Minho, and it lifted whatever heaviness had been weighing on the couple before they got here.

Hinano had him wrapped around her finger—literally— within a matter of seconds. He stood at the edge of the carpet, hands open, shoulders low, keeping his scent flat and polite so as not to alarm her in any way.  Her eyes flicked to him, then away. Her small hand picking up a crayon to put a purple dot on the cat she was drawing with serious concentration.

Jisung noticed the social worker trying to be as unobtrusive as possible with her excessive note taking as he approached the table, small tight lipped smile that made his cheeks extra cute and squishable according to his mate. They were having a discussion about favorite colors when Minho’s scent flashed with sadness for a quick second before he got it back under control. His voice betraying the serene face he put on when answering her question.

When he heard the nickname she gave him, he wanted to melt right into a puddle. Sungie?!  Fuck it was adorable.  She hummed as if accepting his favorite color as a viable option before reaching out towards the row of lined crayons and timidly handing him a red one.

   Almost an hour later they had built a tower that leaned like it defied gravity and fell on a schedule only Hinano understood. They read a picture book about a dog who kept borrowing sugar. She insisted that ‘Bunny’ did the voice and when Minho attempted too high Hinano made a face that said no, so he tried lower, and she nodded like a CEO approving a budget.

Shortly after that, Hinano’s shoelace worked itself into a soft knot. She noticed and froze, small shoulders tensing in a way that made Jisung’s throat catch. He saw the quick glance she gave to them both before bending down to attempt to fix it herself. Brows furrowed and small tongue peeking out between her lips in intense concentration she huffed out when she couldn’t quite get it right.

“May I?” Jisung watched as Minho lowered himself until his hands were level with the floor, fingers sure and kind as he teased the knot loose, re-tied, double-bowed. Years of correcting postures had taught those hands gentleness and he was using them for quite possibly their greatest use yet.

He sat back on his heels when he was done and placed both palms on the carpet again, scent still pushed down to where it barely spilled out. But Jisung could tell—contentment—that’s what his mate was feeling right now. It brought a smile to his face.

Their time had to be coming to an end soon and when the social worker stepped closer to them it seemed Hinano noticed as well. Her little hand grasped at his pant leg like it was a bouy and she was lost at sea.

“It’s time to clean up now, Hinano. Why don’t we start by putting the crayons away?” The woman’s voice was level and calm, a polite smile plastered on her face. The raven haired girl nodded, her fingers unfurling from the fabric of his jeans and going to the table where his mate had already been at in an attempt to soothe the small girl even more. They were smiling at each other, Hinano giggling at Minho’s tsking at her like a rabbit, when hell broke loose. Hinano’s hand suddenly bumped against a water cup, spilling it all over Minho’s lap.

“I—I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to!” Hinano stumbled backwards almost as if she were afraid. He watched as the little girl squatted down, arms wrapped around her knees, making herself small as possible. Jisung made eye contact with Minho who was sitting there just as stunned as he was.

“Please don’t hurt me. I didn’t mean to, promise.” Her voice was barely audible but he heard it.  Jisung’s jaw clenched at the thought; exactly what had this small child been through to make her think spilling water warranted someone putting their hands on her?

“Sweetheart no one is going to hurt you.” Minho must have said fuck the rules because his scent permeated the room. Omega instinct taking over to try to calm the young pup in his ward. Jisung was closest to where she sat, still balled in on herself, her head under the protective cover of her arms. It was a position that seemed too familiar for someone so young. He inched forward, slowly as if she were a wild animal and dropped down to her level to reach out a hand to her shoulder. She jumped at the initial touch, letting out a whimper it made his mate let out one of his own. It was clear this little girl had been through more than they could ever imagine.

“I’m so sorry,” The social worker apologized, “but I think it’d be best if we let Hinano decompress a bit while we talk in my office.”

“I won’t go until I know she’s okay. Until she knows she’s safe.” Minho met his gaze and Jisung nodded.

“Can you look at me please?”  Hinano’s whole body shook with a terror she shouldn’t know. Muttering something so softly he couldn’t hear not even as he got closer.

“We’re not mad or upset. Accidents happen and when they do we just have to take a big deep breath,” he inhaled deeply along with his words, “then exhale before coming up with a plan to fix it.” Minho handed him a roll of paper towels that the social worker must have brought in and tapped the floor in front of Hinano hoping to get her attention.

“See? Bunny already found a solution. How about you help me clean it up?” Hinano’s head eventually left the safety of her arms and wet eyes looked up at him. Jisung put on his brightest smile as she wiped her runny nose on the collar of that dress she hated so much then reached out for his hand.

Once everything was clean and the little girl was smiling again, the social worker once again told them their time was up. It seemed too soon or maybe no matter how long they had it would never be enough.

“Okay, sweetheat, it’s time for us to go but we’ll see you again real soon.” Jisung pretended not to notice the waver in his mate’s voice or the wetness of his eyes when Hinano hugged his leg then Jisung’s own, her face pressed up against his thigh.

“Promise?”

“We promise.” Another person came to take Hinano back to her room while they followed the social worker to her office. He knew by the set of Minho’s jaw that his love meant business.

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

Minho could not believe how well it had been going. She seemed a little shy at first but once they made it easy on her by speaking her native language she opened up. Hinano was a wonderfully gifted child; he could already tell that much. She was smart and funny in a way that matched his own sense of humor. Quiet but he knew it was her way of scoping them out. Everything was going so well…until it wasn’t.

It was just a little bit of water nothing too crazy but you would have thought she broke a Koryo dynasty era vase. Her plea tore through him like a hot iron. She was begging them not to hurt her…for spilling water!

He was still thinking about it, sitting here in the social workers office, trying to take as many deep breaths as he could to calm down.

“Again, I’m sorry about that.” She stared but Minho cut her off from whatever she was about to say.

“Why did she think we would harm her?” He couldn’t help the evident sadness in his tone and he felt Jisung’s hand squeeze his thigh tightly once as they looked at the social worker for answers. The woman sighed and sat down clasping her hands together.

“Han-nim, I told you about her grandmother bringing her to Korea to get her away from her parents because they weren’t fit to parent, yes?” Jisung nodded beside him.

“What I didn’t include was before her grandmother passed she…she wrote Hinano a letter apologizing for not getting her out sooner but I can’t bring myself to give it to her yet. The mother was a drug addict who beat her for the slightest thing. She—goodness this is hard to say aloud—when she didn’t have the money for her fix apparently she would... sell Hinano. I can’t imagine half of what that little girl has had to endure.” Minho felt the air punch out of his lungs. His scent turning bitter like a tea bag left out in the sun for too long to turn musty and brittle. He wanted to scream and cry and throw things but most of all he wanted to find this woman and put her in the fucking ground.

“To be honest,” the woman continued, “I was shocked when she latched onto you at the community event. She only allows me the bare minimum amount of contact to get her ready for the day and shies away from men…understandably.”

 “How can we start the process of adoption?” Minho surprised even himself with the question. He met Jisung’s gaze only to see him with the widest smile on his face and another tight grasp his hand only this time their fingers were laced together.

“Well, if only it were that easy. Since her grandmother technically brought her here illegally, we’re bound by law to try to notify the birth parents first. We’re working with Japanese law enforcement and so far have not had any luck.” Or rather good luck with the way Minho saw it.

“Right now we can’t technically put her up for adoption but she is eligible for fostering. Again, not the simplest of processes. First, you’ll both need to complete the mandatory 20-hour course that basically makes you aware of all the needs a foster will have as well as some basic education in the subject. Then we’ll need to conduct background checks, make sure you meet the financial requirements and finally a home interview to make sure your living situation is child friendly.” This sounded like it was going to be a long drawn out process but Minho didn’t care. That scared little girl needed them and he would be damned if he broke his promise to her.

“Alright. Let’s get to it then.”

Chapter Text

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

She did not cry when she was taken from Bunny and Sungie. She wouldn’t cry because they promised and she could be brave. Another lady—this one different from the lady with the folder—took her back to the room she shared with all the other girls and told her dinner would be shortly so she should change back into play clothes because she wouldn’t want the dress to get dirty. In her opinion a little dirt might actually make this dress a little better. Yon, a girl not too much older than her and someone who talked to her whether she talked back or not, ran up to her with the biggest smile on her face.

“They looked so nice!” Yon always spoke slower and was more patient than the other girls so she could decipher what was being said. She also didn’t make fun of her when her answer didn’t quite make sense all the time. Hinano hummed in response as she put on her favorite outfit. It was the last one her grandmother gave her before she went to the sky. A green and white striped shirt with a little kitten peaking out the pocket on her chest and a denim skirt that that went all the way to her ankles.

“Are they gonna be your new eomma and appa?” Again Hinano just hummed, sometimes talking was too hard and made her chest feel like she couldn’t breathe so this was easier. Thankfully her friend understood and didn’t wait for her to talk back before she continued telling Hinano about her own exciting day.

“I met a family today too! I think they’re going to take me home. Saeun unnie said they really liked me and they have a puppy and a pool and…” Yon continued to talk as Hinano just sat there staring out the small window watching a bird fly by. She didn’t like to hope for much seeing as how hoping sometimes made her heart hurt, but maybe this time wouldn’t be so bad.

“Yon, why don’t you go wash up for dinner?” Folder lady appeared in the doorway like a magician with the device that let them talk easier. She wished they would use it all the time but the lady said if she did then she wouldn’t be able to learn Korean very well. Hinano supposed she was right.

“You seemed to have liked the Han’s very much.” The translator thing said it’s its robotic way that made her want to giggle.

“How would you feel about going over to their home for a little bit tomorrow for a playdate?” Home visits only ever meant one thing around here. Hinano took a deep breath and nodded her head slightly scared that if she got too excited it would end up being snatched away from her. She would be on her best behavior tomorrow to make sure she could stay with Sungie and Bunny.

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

The silence in the apartment felt heavier than the drive home. Minho shut the door behind him and stood for a long moment, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

Sold.

The words rang in his skull like a bell he couldn’t unhear, each toll shaking something loose inside him. A child, traded away like nothing more than coin. He thought of Hinano’s small hands, the way she had flinched when the cup tipped over and begged them not to hurt her. Raw terror in her eyes, as if punishment were the natural consequence for an accident. Minho’s chest squeezed until he could hardly breathe. Rage roared through him, bitter and sharp, tangled with a sorrow so deep it threatened to swallow him whole. He couldn’t sit with it. He couldn’t bear it. His omega instincts begged for action, for doing—for making something safer, warmer, better.

So he went to the spare bedroom, the one that held all the stuff they swore they’d use and never did. Like the treadmill Jisung wanted and used twice. Or the overly large plush of Badtz-Maru Jisung had won for him from a carnival when they first started dating.

He shoved the door open, the stale air hitting his nose, and all at once the clutter inside seemed offensive. Boxes stacked against the wall, dust gathered on the nightstand, an old comforter folded carelessly on the mattress that held too much —it wasn’t a room for a child, not for their child, not for someone who had already been denied so much. Minho clapped his hands together and started pulling everything out, the scraping of cardboard against the floor grounding him as his heart thrashed in his chest.

She won’t wonder if she belongs here.

She won’t think this is temporary.

She’ll walk in and know.

The rhythm of cleaning steadied him. He yanked open the curtains and let sunlight pour in, and for a heartbeat he imagined Hinano’s face bathed in it instead of shadowed by fear. He stripped the bed, dust rising in clouds; he coughed but didn’t stop. His movements were quick, bordering frantic, his scent sharpened with the edge of an unsettled omega. He folded and refolded sheets just to keep his hands moving, muttering under his breath about new pillows, fresh paint, anything to make the room safe and warm. Every sweep of his rag, every tug of the vacuum was a promise sealed in action: No one will sell you, no one will scare you, you will belong here. It was his silent promise. He smoothed the blanket flat and stared at it, his throat tight, his heart thrumming with a fierce kind of protectiveness he hadn’t expected to feel this quickly.

It was terrifying.

And it was right.

When Jisung’s voice came from the doorway, Minho nearly startled. He hadn’t heard him come in.

“Jagi,” Jisung said softly, and the sound cut through the storm whirling in his head. Minho froze with his hand pressed to the wall, the rag limp in his grip. His pulse pounded as the words clawed free.

 “She was afraid of spilling water,” he rasped, voice breaking. “Water, Jisung. What kind of hurt does that leave in a little girl? What kind of mother—”

His throat closed, rage flaring hot before it buckled into grief. Jisung moved to him then, crouching at his side, grounding him with a hand over his own. Minho let out a shaky breath.

“She deserves better. She deserves to walk in here and know it’s safe. No fear. No doubt. Just… safety.”

Jisung’s voice was steady, a lifeline: “Then let’s make it hers. We’ll take her shopping when we can, let her pick her things, her colors.” Minho blinked hard, the room blurring, and for the first time that day, the knot in his chest eased.

The space wasn’t perfect yet—but already, it was full of promise.

🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹

Jisung had watched as Minho moved to cleaning the fridge next. Watched as he pulled half the shelves out and lined everything on the counter, sleeves rolled up, muttering under his breath about expired condiments and how they “wouldn’t poison a child in this house.” He looked like he was waging war on a bottle of soy sauce sticky around the cap when Jisung padded in, phone clutched tight in his hand.

“Min,” Jisung said softly, voice catching a little on the word.

Minho glanced over his shoulder, brow furrowed until he caught the look on Jisung’s face. “What? Did something happen?”

Jisung swallowed, then read off the email almost in one breath.

“Han-ssi, after talking to upper management about how well Hinano has responded to you and your mate, an in-home interview has been approved. Usually sooner is better than later, especially in cases like this. Please get back to me at your earliest convenience to get something set up. I look forward to hearing from you. – Cho Chae-won.”

For a second, the words just hung in the air between them, unreal.

Minho’s rag slipped from his hand. “I thought a home interview was the last step?  They—why are they skipping steps?” His voice broke into a laugh. He pressed the heel of his hand hard against his eyes. “Fuck it I don’t care. They’re really letting us try.”

Jisung crossed the kitchen in two steps, sliding his free hand into Minho’s, squeezing. His heart was pounding, so fast it almost hurt.

“I know before we left Chae-won had told us the chances were good for us but,” Minho whispered, almost like he needed Jisung to confirm it. “She could really—she could really come here. We could really give her a home.”

Jisung nodded, jaw tight, eyes shining. He loved seeing Minho so happy.

But then his voice softened, cracked with nerves. “She’s so little, Sung. And after everything she’s been through… what if I don’t know how to do this right?”

Jisung leaned in, forehead pressing to Minho’s temple. “We’ll learn. Together. She doesn’t need perfect. She just needs safe. She needs loved. And that—that we can give her.”

The silence stretched, full of refrigerator hum and the smell of disinfectant, before Minho finally huffed a shaky laugh. “So when do we want them to come? Next week? Give us some time to—”

“Tomorrow,” Jisung said immediately, then laughed at himself, breathless. “I mean… if they’ll let us. The sooner the better, right? They said so. And—” He bit his lip. “You’ve already done such a good job cleaning. I—I don’t want to wait. I don’t want to make Hinano wait.”

Minho studied him for a long second, then nodded once, decisive.

“Tomorrow.” His hand tightened in Jisung’s. Jisung kissed the corner of his mouth, brief but fierce.

<><><><><><> 

Turns out when you don’t sleep because you’re too anxious, tomorrow showed up a little too quickly. Minho had barely slept, fidgeting in bed for a few hours before giving up and cleaning again.

They had emailed the social worker back telling them what day they chose and she had suggested coming at 10 am. It was just after 8 now, so he had plenty of time to have some breakfast and shower. Problem was he didn’t know if he could keep down any food, he was so nervous. Jisung found Minho scrubbing the kitchen floor for the third time in muttering about a stain that had been there for years.

“I think if it hasn’t come up by now it probably won’t, jagi.” Minho jumped at his voice, hitting his head on the counter as he stood.

“Don’t sneak up on me. You scared the hell outta me.” Jisung smirked before kissing those plush lips he loved so much.

“I didn’t sneak, you were just too busy going full Omega nesting mode to notice.”

“I’m not nesting.” It was cute when he tried to lie. Jisung’s gaze flicked to the couch where three throw blankets of different textures and half their pillows had been arranged into a lopsided little pile that only looked accidental if you didn’t know Minho.

His mate followed his gaze, cheeks coloring, and huffed. “Okay, so I’m nesting. Sue me.”

“I’m not judging.”

“I know.” Minho’s voice cracked, soft around the edges. His hands twisted in the rag he was holding, knuckles going white.

“It’s just—look, I know you said it’ll be fine, and most of me believes that, but… what if we light a candle that reminds her of something bad? What if a certain texture makes her panic? What if she decides she doesn’t want to be here? What if I’m not—” He sucked in a shaky breath. “What if I’m not a good candidate to be her eomma?”

The words tumbled faster now, brittle with fear. “I had it good, jagiya. I don’t know how to handle the kind of pain she’s been through. What if I say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing, and make it worse?”

Jisung’s heart cracked at the sight of him—Minho, always so sure, always the steady one—looking so small and lost. He pulled him close, wrapping both arms tight around his waist and pressing Minho’s face into the curve of his neck. He pushed calm into the air, releasing the warmest, gentlest ginger sandalwood scented pheromones he could, until Minho’s shoulders finally trembled, breath stuttering against his scent gland.

After a long, shuddering exhale, Minho whispered, “How are you not scared?”

Jisung kissed the crown of his hair. “I am scared, Min. Terrified. I don’t know what I’m doing either. But—” He tipped Minho’s chin up until their eyes met. “I know we’ll figure it out together.”

Something had gotten through to him, enough that he finally let himself lean fully into Jisung’s hold, clinging like maybe Jisung was the only thing keeping him upright. And Jisung didn’t mind at all. Because this was the truth: they were scared out of their minds. But they weren’t doing it alone.

Jisung didn’t let go of him right away. He just held Minho, steady and warm, until the rag slipped from Minho’s fingers to the floor. Only then did he coax him toward the counter.

“Come on. You need to eat something. Even if it’s just a few bites.”

Minho grimaced but let himself be guided to a chair. Jisung pulled out the pan and set about whisking eggs, moving with an ease that made it seem like he knew what he was doing. He didn’t but it wasn’t like it was anything hard—just scrambled eggs with rice and some kimchi on the side—but it smelled comforting and familiar.

Minho picked at his plate at first, nerves still knotting his stomach, but Jisung coaxed him with a quiet, “For her, jagi. She’ll need you strong.” That was enough. He forced down half his portion, and though it wasn’t much, it settled Jisung’s need to care for his mate.

Afterward, Minho moved automatically to start rinsing the dishes, but Jisung caught his wrist. “Leave them. We’ve got something more important to do before they get here.”

Minho blinked wide eyes at him. “What?”

“Shower,” Jisung said, tugging him toward the bathroom. He knew better than to say it out loud but after cleaning most of the night, Minho smelled too much like chemical and not enough like the lovely tea on a warm spring day he loves.

The steam rose quickly, curling around their shoulders as they stepped under the spray together. The first few moments were quiet—just hot water pounding against their skin, the sound almost drowning out the racing of their hearts. Minho let out a shaky sigh as Jisung reached for the soap, working up a lather and smoothing it over his shoulders, down his arms.

“Relax,” Jisung murmured, kissing the top of his shoulder as his hands slid lower, steady, grounding. “Just breathe. Let me take care of you.”

Minho did, leaning back into him, the heat of the water mingling with the warmth of Jisung’s body. For a moment, the nerves softened. They kissed lazily, not with urgency but with reassurance—mouths lingering, hands brushing over familiar skin, reminding each other that whatever came next, they were in it together

“You’re going to be an amazing eomma,” Jisung whispered against his lips.

Minho swallowed hard, closing his eyes. “Only because I’ve got you.”

The water washed over them, rinsing away the last suds, but neither of them pulled back right away. They stood there, foreheads pressed together, letting the steam wrap around them like a cocoon.

By the time they stepped out, drying each other off in practiced motions, they felt lighter, calmer. Not fearless—but together.

They dressed slowly, choosing neat but comfortable clothes, smoothing out wrinkles with nervous hands. Minho fussed with his hair in the mirror until Jisung came up behind him, resting his chin on his shoulder.

“Perfect,” Jisung murmured.

Minho’s lips quirked in the smallest smile. “You’re biased.”

“Completely.” Jisung kissed the back of his neck before pulling him toward the living room.

They tidied in quiet circles, straightening shoes, stacking papers, smoothing couch cushions that didn’t need smoothing. Finally, with nothing left to fidget with, they sat side by side on the sofa, fingers twined tight.

The clock ticked over—9:59.

A knock sounded at the door.

Both of them froze breath caught in their throats.

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

Hinano woke up when the sun peeked through the thin curtains and touched her face. The social worker, Cho-san, was already in the room, setting a folded dress on the chair.

“Big day, Hinano,” Cho-san spoke slowly enough for her to translate this early in the morning.

Hinano blinked sleep from her eyes. Big day. Big days were supposed to be good. That’s what everyone whispered. Big days meant car rides and houses and sometimes… not coming back. The children who didn’t come back were the lucky ones. They got chosen.

But big days also meant you had to be good. If you weren’t good, no one kept you.

Hinano pressed her lips together and nodded. She didn’t like when Cho-san brushed her hair or straightened her sleeves, but she let her. She didn’t want to be scolded. She didn’t want to ruin it.

The dress was yellow with tiny flowers—much better than the one yesterday. She reached for her cow—soft, spotted, the one her grandmother had given her. She hugged it close. She always picked this one, it was the last thing she had left of her grandmother.

The car ride was long. She sat very small in the seat, Moo (her stuffie) pressed against her face. The buildings outside grew taller and shinier, and glass that sparkled in the sun. Her stomach squirmed. These places looked too nice for someone like her. What if they saw her shoes were scuffed? What if they didn’t want her because she wasn’t pretty enough or quiet enough?

Be good, she told herself. Be very good.

The car stopped.

Cho-san said, “We’re here,” and opened the door.

Hinano didn’t move at first. But then she smelled something in the air, even outside—a mix of warmth and something sweet. It made her chest feel heavy and light at the same time, like when she remembered her grandmother’s tea time. She climbed out of the car, clutching Moo, and followed Cho-san up the steps.

The door was big and polished, with shiny handles. Cho-san knocked. Hinano’s heart beat so hard it hurt.

Footsteps. The click of a lock. The door opened.

Two faces looked out—familiar, soft.

Bunny and Sungie.

She didn’t think. She just ran the small steps forward and pressed into Bunny’s leg, clutching his pant leg with her free hand and hiding her face. The smell was stronger here—clean, warm, safe. She breathed it in and didn’t let go.

Behind her, Cho-san went very still. Then, after a pause, her voice said gently, “Shall we come in?”

Inside, Hinano perched on the couch, Moo in her lap, legs tucked neatly together to make herself smaller because that was how you were good. The lady with the clipboard wrote notes while she asked questions. Most of the words were too fast, too complicated, but Hinano heard her name sometimes, and the way Bunny and Sungie always answered made her chest calm again.

Minho’s voice was quiet, soft, like singing. Jisung’s was bright, like sunshine. Both kept looking at her when they spoke, like she was the most important person in the room.

When the lady was writing for a long time, Jisung crouched low and tapped Moo's nose, making a cow sound that made her giggle before she could stop it. He winked and whispered in Japanese, “Your cow is cute.”

She hugged it tighter, hiding her smile.

Then Minho brought out a small wooden puzzle from the shelf and set it in front of her. She frowned at the pieces, twisting them the wrong way. Her chest started to buzz again—what if she couldn’t do it, what if she looked dumb and they didn’t want a dummy—until Bunny sat on the floor beside her. He didn’t take it from her, just nudged one piece gently with his finger.

“Like this,” he said softly in Japanese. His smile was slow, careful, but it reached his eyes.

Hinano pushed the piece, and it clicked into place. Bunny’s whole face lit up like she had done something amazing, even though it was only one piece. Her stomach stopped buzzing. She thought maybe she could do another.

The lady with the clipboard wrote more notes, but Hinano didn’t care anymore. She stayed pressed against Bunny’s  side, stuffie in her lap, Sungie making funny faces now and then to make her laugh.

She didn’t know exactly what the grown-ups were deciding, but she knew how it felt here: warm, safe, and like her grandmother’s house but different, too.

Like a new beginning.

🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹

Watching Hinano and Minho interact was probably the cutest thing Jisung had ever witnessed in his life. And that was saying something because he had a whole slew of babies in his life that he loved unconditionally but something about watching his mate with a pup that could very well be theirs soon melted him. He was currently distracted by a sharp high pitched shriek when Minho wiggled his fingers against her side, apparently, she made the grave offense of saying his cat looked like an old man. Knowing Minho’s art skills she was probably right.

“Han-nim?” Jisung jerked his head away from the sweet scene on the living room floor and hummed.

“You’re mate's really patient with her. She likes him, which is impressive, I think she barely tolerates my presence.” She laughed like she wasn’t too hurt by it but bothered all the same before adding, “I was asking if you might accompany me around your home. Figured while we were here I could get this step out of the way to make the process a little quicker down the road.”  

“Yes, of course.” He stood, meeting his mates eyes who just nodded once. “What…uh… what kind of things are you looking for?”

“No need to fret too much. It’s just things most couples don’t tend to even think about. Like making sure the bookshelf doesn’t fall on the child or putting child locks on balcony doors.” She notated as she continued walking, every once in a while, writing something new. By the time they were finished with the tour and made their way back to the living room, she must have had two whole pages filled with things that needed to change to become habitable for a small child.

“Okay I’m afraid that’s our time. Hinano, how about we say goodbye?” The little girl looked up with impossibly large eyes and it almost seemed as if she were going to say something before she just shut her mouth and gave a tight nod before going about to clean and organize everything she had used today. She even, almost neurotically, folded-unfolded- then folded again a soft green throw blanket she had been using to cover her tiny legs before setting it gently in the corner with an accomplished look on her face. Like she had done it wrong the first time but got it just right the second. She reminded him a lot of Minho when he was nesting and everything had to be just perfect.  

It was harder than he thought it would be watching Hinano leave with the social worker. Her eyes became wet with tears she refused to shed, even Minho might have let out a few. When the door shut he turned to his mate and smiled.

“You were so good with her, jagi.” Not that he thought he’d be anything better than exceptional. Whenever they watched one of their friends pups Minho was great with them too. He was born to be a parent.

“I wish I could have made her lunch or something. It’s almost noon.” Minho muttered while worrying his bottom lip, something he only did with truly upset.

“I’m sure Cho-ssi will take care-“Jisung stopped when his mate let out an annoyed snarl.

“It should be me taking care of anything she needs.” Okay so domestic Omega eomma Minho was HAWT. Jisung almost had to pick his jaw up off the floor at that aggressively cute display.

“I’ve never seen you like this before,” Jisung moved to wrap his mate in his arms, said man relaxing visibly at the motion.

“I just— I need her to be safe. I can’t explain why I feel like this just…jagi… we need to do everything we can to make sure this will be her safe haven.”

“I agree. Do you want lunch first or do you want to talk about some things Cho-ssi brought to my attention that we need to fix before we can bring her home?” That got Minho’s full attention. He cleared his throat of all emotion stuck inside it and sat down on the couch, stacking up all the pictures he and Hinano had colored, smiling just slightly before staring up at him almost as if saying, “well?” Jisung sat beside his love, their knees knocking as he turned into him for this conversation.

“First thing, Cho-ssi was really impressed with how Hinano took to us. Said she still barely allows her any physical contact. Second, and I want you to listen and not freak out, but there is quite a bit we need to do. She said she’ll have her assistant call us with full details but essentially, it’s just baby proofing the house.” Minho moved like he was about to start right away on whatever it was they would need to do. Jisung grasped his hand to keep him still, smiling.

“We didn’t fail, Min. Just need to take care of some things.”

The call came at 16:43, and the first thing Jisung noticed was not the words but the politeness in them—careful, practiced, the kind of tone people use when they’ve learned to leave out the sharp parts.

“Hi, this is Arum from the agency. Some things came up in the home review: there are a few bookshelves that need to be anchored to the wall, also any cabinets that allows access to chemicals like cleaning supplies under the sink, need a child lock, your balcony doors need child locks and we suggest since you’re on a higher floor to also think about making sure the railing isn’t easily climbable. Cover power outlets, put locks on all appliances, set your water heater to a safe temperature to avoid accidental burns when it comes to bathing and washing hands. We’ll need a copy of the building’s safety plan to make sure all sprinklers and such is up to date if you could get them to fax it over to us. We’ll send you a list of all this as well. I know it all seems overwhelming but rest assured it’s just a lot of small easily fixable things. Upon completion of your mandatory course and background checks we will make another home inspection to make sure all necessary changes were made. Do you have any questions for me right now?”

Minho blinked quickly, twice, as if he were still processing all the information they were just given.  

“Uh no I— I don’t believe we do.”

“Great. Well if anything changes please fell free to give us a call back.” Pause. Click. The call ended.

“Bookshelves, balcony,” Minho said, a little too evenly. “And a letter from the building manager.”

He stood very still in the middle of the penthouse kitchen—clean lines, quiet appliances, afternoon light pooling across the island. His scent snapped taut and then drew itself in like he was trying not to alarm Jisung. Tea and rain and earth folded so tight the air went thin. Panic, for him, always found the neatest drawer.

“Hey.” Jisung put his phone down the instant he heard the second sentence. His Beta scent brushed the air— calm, practical, unfussy. “A bookshelf we can secure. A letter we can get. That’s a speed bump, not a wall.”

“She is a person,” Minho said, jaw tight. “Not a file waiting for attachments.”

“I know.” Jisung stepped in, cupped his jaw, made him look at him. “Stay with me.”

A beat, two. The world steadied. He nodded once, a small consent to being helped.

“I have an idea,” Jisung said, already dialing. “You work on writing down everything we need to fix.”

“Who are you calling? “ Minho asked but started doing as told anyway.

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

Within thirty minutes, the elevator opened and their people arrived like an army that had agreed to be useful.

Chan crossed the threshold with a toolbox and the grounded hum of his Alpha calm—low drum, steady heart. Tae-joon sleeping in a sling on Felix’s chest, tiny fist busy with nothing, eyelashes outrageous, Jin Ae trailing behind her eomma with a cute little work belt on. Changbin followed with a coil of child-gate in one arm and a riotous twin hanging off the other.

“Where,” he demanded, “is the problem that thinks it can be a problem.”

Hyunjin slid in with paint under his nails and a tote full of decals. “If we must pause, we beautify,” he declared. “Also, Jung-seok wanted to donate his star lamp.” The shy little boy held out the lamp in front of him, blush rising up in his cheeks as Minho gave him a quick kiss on it.

“That’s very kind Jung-seok, thank you.” His scent was a bright thread of clean powder and wet ink that bloomed before he took off after his Appa. Hyunjin rolled his eyes and smiled, muttering something about a crush as he set his bags down and started helping Felix who had brought soup and rolls. His hands already fussing with napkins, hair a little wild, eyes full—pack Auntie made manifest. Seungmin carried an inspector’s checklist of his own, three pens and the look of a man who was determined to fix this as soon as possible all while telling Jeongin, who had come with a cloud-shaped white noise machine and an optimism so shiny it made the room kinder, to help him get started.

“I’m sorry,” Minho said softly before they all got too busy, because someone had to apologize for the universe.

Chan set the toolbox down and glanced at him, soft but wry. “We’re going to put a latch on some doors and windows, cover some outlets and secure some shelves to walls,” he said. “I think between the eight of us we got this covered.”

The work began. The child-gate gleamed; the balcony door learned humility. Changbin installed a secondary latch with the same surgical attention he gave bass lines, then tested it until even the latch seemed impressed. Chan read code specs aloud like scripture and nodded once, satisfied: It is good.

Hyunjin adjusted the star-lamp three time until the moon remembered how to be dignified and added a shy crescent above the bed with a single decal, smiling to himself as if he’d snuck beauty into a meeting agenda. Felix and Seungmin set the table with ruthless care, soup steaming, bread singing.

“Gate secure,” Chan announced, lifting a glass in a toast. “Latch is idiot-proof.”

“Which idiots?” Jeongin asked carefully getting a slap across the head from Hyunjin because he was closest.

“Any idiot,” Changbin said, and kissed Hyunjin’s temple in silent appreciation.

Felix pressed a bowl into Minho’s hands. “Eat,” he ordered, teary and bossy. 

By evening, nothing looked different to a stranger and everything did to them. They had been assured the letter would be sent over to the agency tomorrow. The latch gleamed. Their nest waited without announcing itself.

Panic had been translated into motion and then, somehow, into a home.

Chapter Text

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

It had been two weeks since they started the process of becoming foster parents for Hinano. The course was over, they cleared the background and financial checks with flying colors so why don’t they have his child yet? It’s a question that’s been prickling the Omega’s skin for a few days now. Yes, he understood:

“These things take time, Minho.” Thank you, Bang Chan, for that lovely little piece of advice.

During the two weeks Minho made sure to spend a few hours every day with Hinano. The small girl opening up more and more towards him and Jisung. He had proof in the form of a picture he had snapped when she fell asleep in his mate's lap after they had a particularly intense tickle war. Her face round and soft in its peacefulness, Jisung’s mouth wide open on what was probably a soft snore. He had even managed to get Cho-ssi to agree to bring Hinano —and herself of course— to have dinner with them. Hinano clung to him the whole time, insisting that she could help and pouting when he told her mushrooms would help her grow.

“Like the little plumber guy!” Was Jisung’s contribution, making her smile. He loved when Hinano smiled, it was like a little part of his soul smiled too.

Currently he was trying his hardest—and failing— to come up with new choreography for the song he had finally received. His mind filled only with thoughts of the little girl so much so that he almost didn’t hear when his phone rang. He wiped the sweat off his face with a towel, rifling through his gym bag for the small device, paling when he saw the name.

Cho Chaewon

Minho took a deep calming breath before answering.

“Han-ssi, I’m sorry to bother you during working hours but I figured this is something you’d like to hear right away.” His heart raced and he started down the hallway towards where his mate was probably laying down some tracks or whatever it is his big beautiful creative mind did.

“Yes, it’s fine. I’m just going to grab Jisung now.” He had never walked faster in his life; his thighs were burning by the time he made it to the other side of the building. At least it wasn’t a giant company like the one they all used to work for before 3Racha started their own label. Minho slammed open studio B’s door, grabbed his stunned mate by the collar and hauled his ass out into the hallway, putting the phone on speaker.

“Okay we’re both here.” It was a little embarrassing how out of breath he was but this phone call was more important than his dignity. “Please tell me you have good news.”

“I have fantastic news. You and your mate have been approved to become foster parents.” Minho choked out a loud sob of relief and Jisung pulled him into a tight hug just as the other two came out into the hallway.

“So…um…we can—we can pick her up today?” The social worker let out a small happy sigh before telling them that they could indeed pick her up today. When they hung up, Minho was so happy he forgot they were at their place of business and laid one on Jisung’s perfect heart shaped lips, leaving him both stunned and flushed pink.

“Okay, Han Jisung, let’s go.” His mate froze, looked towards where Changbin and Chan were standing then back to him something akin to guilt painting his features.

“Jagi…trust me I want to go pick up Hinano more than anything but…we have that meeting in Busan today. We were just getting ready to go to the station.” Fuck that was right. He was just so excited that he forgot Jisung had to go to Busan today to work out some kinks in a contract with some artist/group they couldn’t talk about due to an NDA they had signed.

“I’ll be back in time for dinner though I promise.” Minho hated that he couldn’t come with him but understood. This group had been someone they were trying to sign for a while now and he knew it meant big things for them.

“You better be.” He allowed himself another quick peck before running his hand through his hair, salt stiff and unruly from dancing. Ewe.

“I’m going to run home, take a shower and—and go pick up our daughter.” The pleased feeling that ran through the Omega could easily becoming addicting. It was just so euphoric after all the waiting and paperwork they’ve had to go through just to get to this day.

     On the drive home he couldn’t stop the tap of his fingers along the top of the steering wheel or the bouncing of his leg while at a stop light. He didn’t think he’d be this nervous about a good thing. When he pulled up to the garage of the apartment, he had noticed a familiar black suv already in the visitors spot next to his space. As soon as he got out, a small blur ran from Felix’s car to him while her mother was busy securing his newest pup in the sling across his chest.

“Hi Min-imo!” Jin Ae looked up at him with her biggest smile, one of her teeth missing and took his hand as they walked to the elevator.

“Chan texted me. I’m so happy for you hyung!” The ray of sunshine that Felix was, shone so brightly in with his excitement before a baby squeal so high pitched it made him rub his ear.

“Tae-yoon is happy too. Aren’t you my pretty baby? Yes, you are!” Minho would never understand baby talk. They could understand a regular decibel just fine thank you very much. He keyed in the code to the front door, kicked off his shoes and headed towards the bedroom trusting that Felix would follow.

“Thank you, but why are you here?” It wasn’t that he didn’t like the younger Omega’s company he just wasn’t sure why a phone call or a congratulatory text wouldn’t simply suffice.

“Well, I figured with Ji going to Busan you’d like to have someone else there with you? Jin Ae had a doctor appointment today, so we were already on this side of town.” It was incredibly thoughtful of him to offer.

A knock came at the door, followed by the sound of the code being inputted and it opening.

“Anyone here?” Hyunjin called out before the twins made their way towards where he was.

“Boys stop running in the house!” The raven head of the other Omega in their weird little pack poked his head in, taking Minho into an impossibly long hug after dropping a bag full of only god knew what.

“I may have invited Hyune over as well.” Felix shrugged while pinching one of the twins cheeks—sometimes he couldn’t tell them apart unless he was really trying—and all Minho could do was shake his head in affectionate annoyance.

“I couldn’t get a sitter for the boys and Ayen-ah is working. Sometimes I regret bringing my favorite babysitter to a shoot.” He said it in that whimsically upset way he does when he’s wanting to be dramatic.

“You sure it’s not cause he books more than you now?” Felix teased him, receiving a less playful slap on the arm in return.

“Hush you. Now while you and Felix go and pick up your little angel, I am going to be here setting up a little surprise, maybe make a little food so you won’t have to worry about that tonight. I’ll even watch Tae-yoon while you two go get Hinano.”

“Hyunjin-ah, I’d like to come home and my kitchen not be on fire.” Sure, he helped out in Felix’s bakery for a few months all those years ago, but his cooking skills were still atrocious as was evidenced by the dinner he made for Minho’s birthday just last month. Felix cackled as he went to change a fussy Tae-yoon, and shooed Minho off to take the shower he originally planned.

🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹

Jisung could not, for the life of him, sit still. He knew no one would have blamed him if he missed this. If he let Chan and Bin handle this, which let’s be honest they were probably way better equipped at all this stuff than he was. He would love to just lock himself up in a studio, writing and producing tracks, while staying far away from others. Unfortunately, that wasn’t how one actually ‘got ahead’ in this industry; as Minho has reminded him numerous times. He would be a good role model and finish what he started. Yep. That would be him. Changbin had tapped the leg closest to him that bounced so fast it blurred, heel thudding against the ground in a steady beat. Would make a pretty solid beat for a track actually.

“The benefits you guys are offering seem too good to be true. How can we be sure this isn’t a trick?” Hongjoong made a solid point, if he had been given these same terms with the old company they worked for he would have thought it to be a trick as well.

“No trick. We won’t lock you down with a contract. If you ever think it’s not working out with us you can leave any time no penalty fees we just ask that you give us a 90 day notice.” Chan knew this would be brought up and had already planned a whole speech just for it. “You can write and produce all your own songs or we’re more than happy to step in if asked. You can pick your own manager, choose where you want to perform with who and even when. Wear what you want, date who you want, choose which endorsements you want to take on. Step Out Entertainment will also provide training for vocal, dance, language, and acting if you even want to venture into that. If you need help in securing housing after you leave your current company we can manage that as well.”

An Omega that could rival—but not surpass— the beauty of his own bunny toothed mate raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow, leaning forward on his elbows. Fuck, he missed Minho so much right now. He couldn’t help but wonder if he had already picked Hinano up and taken her home or if he was on his way to. If he was making them a snack right now, or maybe he was reading her a story. God what he wouldn’t give to be with them. Shit focus! He had to focus. The quicker they finished with this the quicker he could get home.

“And for this generosity how much are you recouping from our sales? You going to get us a big pack house only to make us pay it back after we start bringing in the big bucks?” Again, fair assessment if they were any other company Jisung would have the same doubts.

“Hwa…” Jisung took control before Hongjoong could finish reprimanding him for being impolite, trying to keep this train on its tracks.

“Well we didn’t say we could afford a big pack house but we can get you guys an apartment to share.” A laugh broke some of the tension in the room as he continued. “Look we’re not trying to steal people’s success, make a living off their hard work while we sit back and let our wallets get fat. 60/40 is the distribution we’re thinking on all album both physical and digital, merch, performances, concert sales. Stuff like that. For brand endorsements or anything else you guys decide to do, flip that. You get the 60 we get the 40. Now of course travel will be recouped because we can’t afford that for all our clients but you choose where and how. A five-star hotel resort or a simple air bnb? Commercial or private? It’s all up to you.”

Changbin leaned forward as he took over next, his baritone low and husky at first, the kind of voice that seemed to catch in his chest before gathering strength. Each word carried that gravelly weight, steady and deliberate, then gaining momentum as conviction pulled him faster.

“We started Step Out because we know what it feels like to be taken for granted. To be kicked around. Shoved aside. Told our ideas don’t matter.” His voice roughened, rising just a bit. “Passion for this industry? It’s been dying for years. It’s not about the music anymore. It’s about money.” He let the silence stretch for a beat before leaning in even further like he was about to tell them a secret, tone fierce.

“Don’t you want to be a part of a new era?” God damn that speech was so good Jisung wanted to give his partner a standing ovation. All eight members of ATEEZ, a major company’s main talent, looked at each other, had some sort of telepathic conversation and nodded at once.

“We’re in.”

“Perfect!” Chan plastered on his biggest smile, complete with dimples, “Then how about we get our lawyers on a video call and go over this contract more in depth. Make any necessary changes.” This was the long part, where every little thing they could think of would get thrown under a microscope until they all agreed.

Jisung sat at the edge of the discussion, nodding when he needed to, but his focus was miles away. The table they were all gathered around blurred, Chan’s steady tone and Changbin’s gravel edged conviction melting into background noise. All he could think about was what was going on back home. Right now Minho was probably pacing their apartment in that nervous excitement he doesn’t like to admit he does, maybe already on his way to picking her up. And Jisung was here in Busan instead.

A low voice tugged him back to the present. “The lights are on but no one seems to be home,” Mingi, possibly one of the tallest people he had ever seen, rumbled leaning in closer with a small smirk. His tone was easy but the depth of it carried weight. “This part of the conversation not your thing?”

Jisung hesitated not sure whether he should even tell a complete stranger this or not before letting out a shaky breath. “My mate and I got approved to foster this amazing little girl today.” His voice softened almost breaking into a laugh. “She’s coming home, and I’m…stuck here talking contracts.”

Mingi’s eyes widened, then lit up with something warm. He reached out, resting one large hand on Jisung’s shoulder.

“Then what are you still doing here?” Another hand on his other shoulder, this time from Yunho, the second pillar of ATEEZ, what’s with him being surrounded by tall men today? “Go. Be with your family. Chan hyung and Changbin hyung can handle shop talk without you, right guys?” Affirmatives rang out from both immediately making Jisung’s throat tighten.

“I don’t want to leave you guys hanging—”

Chan shook his head, firm but kind. “We’ll make sure no one sells their souls while your gone, promise. Now go so you can hopefully get there in time for dinner, remember?”

For the first time since the meeting started, Jisung felt the corners of his mouth lift, relief breaking through the heaviness in his chest.

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

Yon was the only one who ever played with her. Not often, not for long, but enough that Hinano could pretend she wasn’t so alone in the orphanage. Yon’s Japanese wasn’t much better than her own Korean but the two of them had learned to play with just Yon’s constant commentary, pointing and laughing, making up their own little language with a combination of words from each other’s native tongues. The other girls didn’t like that. They didn’t like much about Hinano at all. It had gotten pretty bad since Yon had been adopted by that nice family a few months ago but today was worse.

An older girl—one with long hair that she always flipped into Hinano’s face when passing by—blocked the doorway to the common room.

“I can’t believe they’d want a freak like you.” She hissed, loud enough for the others to hear. A few snickered, some repeated the word. Freak. Strange. Hinano froze. The words tangled together in her head, bouncing around until she slowly pieced them together with the little Korean she knew. By the time she understood what’s was said when she first came in the room, the girl was already smirking.

Freak.

Wanted.

You.

Hinano’s chest filled up so full she couldn’t breathe. Not because of the mean part. Not even because of a push that sent her tumbling onto her knees scraping one up. None of that mattered. All she heard was that someone wanted her, she knew who it was.

Bunny and Sungie.

No one else had even spent any time with her.

She didn’t cry. She didn’t shout. She stood up, brushed her palms against the corduroy material of her overalls style dress, and walked away while the laughter followed. Her knee was bleeding a bit and a little painful but she made it all the way back to the room she had shared with a few other girls not stopping until she reached her bed.

The backpack she came with sat where she always kept it. Her small hands unzipped it, then went to the small cubby meant for her clothes and started folding them carefully in order to fit better into the backpack. It wasn’t like she had much anyway—the other girls had taken most of the things they liked that had belonged to her. Two shirts, a pair of mismatched socks one that had a hole in the heel, a shirt that was starting to fade. Once she was finished she climbed onto her bed with her cow plush and waited.

Cho-san found her like that. “I have some fantastic news—oh it seems as if you’ve already heard and packed your things.” The social worker said gently ,surprise softening her voice.

Hinano nodded, clutching Moo to her chest. She didn’t know how to say I’ve been ready since Sungie gave me that muffin. Or Since Bunny smiled at me. Feelings were hard.  Cho-san sat down beside her and reached to smooth her hair, but Hinano leaned just out of reach. She didn’t mean to be rude—it was just that she only wanted Bunny’s gentle hands to brush her hair or Sungie’s arms around her in a tight hug. They were safe. She could feel it the minute she met them. They would love her and keep her safe. Like her grandmother had.

Grandma smelled like roasted barley tea and damp earth after rain. That’s what Bunny smelled like too. She had realized it just now, sitting with Cho-san in the quiet room. Every time Minho bent down to speak to her, that clean earthy scent wrapped around her, pulling her back to afternoons in the garden, soil on her small hands, the soft steam of tea at her grandmother’s table.

And Sungie? He was harder to explain. He didn’t smell like tea or earth. He smelled like…warm air. Like a room with laughter in it. Soft woody fragrance mixed with the subtle spiciness of ginger, like that candle her grandmother liked to light.

Maybe that’s why Hinano clung to him that day at the picnic. He had smiled at her so gently, humming under his breath, and the sound tugged at her like a string. He had felt like someone who wouldn’t mind if she stayed. Not like other adults who only wanted something from her.

Hinano’s small fingers twisted around Moo's ears as she waited. Excitement fluttered in her belly but so did fear. What if she was too loud? What if she was too quiet? What if Bunny and Sungie changed their minds?

Her mother had always changed her mind too.

Love came and went with the smallest mistakes.

So, Hinano promised herself she would be good. She would sit quietly until spoken to. She would smile when they wanted her to smile. She would be exactly what they needed her to be. And if she did, maybe—just maybe—she could stay with them forever.

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

Minho told himself to stay calm but his Omega instincts were already restless, prowling just beneath his skin, demanding he get his arms around Hinano and never let go again. Felix stood at his side with Jin Ae clinging to Minho’s hand like a commander leading her troops, chin lifted, eyes alert. Minho was almost positive she’d present as an Alpha when it was time.

He had been here so many times in the past two weeks that muscle memory took him towards the room he knew Hinano would be. It wasn’t until he heard his name that he stopped.

“Han-ssi, I’m so glad you got here so quickly. Let’s go into my office shall we?”

“I want to see Hinano first.” Cho-ssi smiled in an almost too polite way before leading him the opposite way down the hall and further from the room. When the office door opened, Minho nearly lost his breath.

She was so small. Smaller than the last visit a few days ago, though he knew that wasn’t true—it was just the way she carried herself. Shoulders stiff, chin ducked, cow plush clutched like a lifeline. His eyes roamed over her and stopped once they got to her knees. They were scraped raw, the red stark against pale skin. A thin backpack that looked much lighter than it should have. He wanted to ask what happen, wanted to ask where the rest of her belongings were but instead he dropped into a crouch in front of her.

“Hinano,” he whispered. She blinked up at him, wide dark eyes searching for comfort that she was too afraid to ask for. When her small hand reached out for his own he let her take it.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” His chest ached. He wanted to scoop her up right there and carry her away from this forever. “You’ll never have to worry about getting hurt ever again. Not ever.” Her lip trembled, just for a second and that broke his heart even further.

“How was this allowed to happen?” Minho was furious, yet he kept his tone calm and even so as not to scare their little girl.

“Han-ssi, you know how children are. Unfortunately, we can’t keep an eye on every child every minute of every day. There are hundreds of children here, rest assured the girl responsible for this will receive the proper punishment.” It was an unacceptable answer but he knew fighting the woman who had only been helping them this whole time probably wouldn’t end well for the child who was now watching Jin Ae with curious eyes.

“I thought your mate would be with you? I’m sure you’re aware we’ll need his signature on the paperwork as well?”

“Yes of course. He had a business meeting in Busan that he just couldn’t reschedule. I was hoping you’d let me take Hinano home today with just my signature then  I’ll bring Jisung in first thing in the morning.” The social worker hummed, tapping her finger on the desk twice before nodding.

“I think we can do that. As long as you come first thing in the morning. I’m sure you’ll know its not exactly by the book to let a child go without both signatures. Let’s get started shall we?”

            The signing took longer than Minho had patience for. He scrawled his name on every line without hesitation, each stroke of pen another vow to Hinano—your mine, you’re safe, you’re not alone anymore. Felix distracted Jin Ae and Hinano with a picture book, while they went through everything. His eyes kept going back over to the girl who had been through so much at such a young age. She sat stiffly beside Felix, the little backpack tucked between her legs, as if someone might try to take it from her. She didn’t fidget or speak. Didn’t let her eyes wander further than Felix’s face. Just waited, perfectly still, like a child who had learned that mistakes made people leave.

When the last form was signed and stamped, Minho turned to her. He softened his voice so as not to startle her, brushing his knuckles gently across her hair. “First things first,” he said “is shopping.” Because he would be damned if she didn’t have every single thing she needed. Jin Ae let out a small whooping sound, clearly taking after her eomma with her love for shopping, and grabbed Hinano’s hand like it was the most natural thing to her, leading them out to the car. Surprisingly, Hinano didn’t flinch or pull away. Just let the rambunctious little girl drag her around like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Look they’re already friends.” Felix lets out one of those pleased whines he does when he sees something he deems ‘too cute’, telling Jin Ae to slow down and wait before crossing the lot.

The drive to the mall was a short one but Minho’s eyes kept going to the rear-view mirror, making sure Hinano was as comfortable as she could be. When he buckled her into the booster seat he could tell she didn’t like it but stayed quiet instead. No doubt feeling the same way about them that Jin Ae did. That little girl was constantly telling them she was a big girl and could sit in the car without the seat. She obviously never won that battle…unless it was just her and Chan. Minho was impressed with the level of whipped that man was for his daughter. Regardless, Hinano sat there, listening to Jin Ae go on and on about the rest of their pack even if she couldn’t understand everything she was saying.

“And Hyune-imo and Binnie-samchon have a set of twins, Jung-Seok and Jang-ho. They can be really loud but don’t worry I won’t let them be mean to you. Innie-samchon is a model, for really fancy brands” she whispered like she was secretly proud of him. “Then his mate, Minnie-samchon helps my eomma run the bakery, he makes really yummy cookies. I have a baby brother but he isn’t here right now…thankfully. He’s really annoying but appa says I should be a good big sister and…”

“Treasure? That’s enough, we don’t want to overwhelm Hinano the first day.” Felix stopped his daughter’s monologue with a soft smile and warm look, “Now, let’s go spend daddy’s money.”  

Minho knew when they walked in that he was going to lose control. It wasn’t his fault. It was genetics. Omega instinct ran hotter than reason. Every aisle screamed she needs this—soft cotton dresses, shoes of every color, socks that actually matched, coats that would keep her warm through Seoul’s brutal winters. It was almost December after all.

“Minho,” Felix said in that low, teasing voice, watching him pile sheets into the cart. “She doesn’t need three different bedding sets.”

“Yes she does,” Minho snapped at him without thinking. Then caught the girls’ eyes, Jin Ae fierce and protective like if Minho talked to her eomma like that again she’d be having words with him and Hinano wide eyes and unblinking. His tone became gentler. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

“Why don’t you have her choose?” It was such a great idea, Minho was a little mad at himself for not realizing it. She was right here with them, and she should be the one to choose what she puts in her room.

“Hinano?” The little girl’s raven head tilted up at him, “Which one would you like to have on your bed?” She stared at him like she does when she’s trying to decipher what he’s saying but he knew that wasn’t the case since they had only been speaking Japanese around her so she felt more comfortable.

“I—I get to choose?” Once again, another piece of his heart fractured at her wary tone

“Of course, it’s all for you anyway. You can decorate your room however you want.” Her eyes lit up before turning to the shelves that held too many options. She carefully considered all the options before pointing to a set with that little frog Sanrio character all over it. Minho smiled, taking it and putting it in the cart before they moved on to the next aisle and started the choosing process all over again. Jin Ae walked around, always in her eomma’s line of sight, occasionally holding something up and declaring, “Hinano should have this,” before tossing it into the cart., Minho agreed with most of the items so allowed them to stay.

Everything was going great until they turned into the scented candle aisle. Suddenly Hinano froze, staring blankly at a candle that smelled faintly of patchouli, he started to grab it thinking she might want it when all of her a sudden her breaths came sharp and quick. She dropped her cow plush, small hands fluttering in the air around her head as if she were trying to push away a memory clawing its way up.

“Hey,” Minho murmured, going to his knees in front of her, gathering her trembling body into his arms.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. You’re safe. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” Despite trying to be strong for her, his voice cracked under the weight of his desperate need to care for her. Nothing reached her ears though because now she was crying. Silent tears streaming down her face. Her panic was a tide that pulled her under and every word he offered was swallowed by the weight of it. His own chest grew tight, What if I can’t do this? What if I can’t be what she needs? The thoughts carved into him, sharp and merciless. He didn’t know how to make this better right now.

Then Jin Ae marched forward, all of four years old but standing with the certainty of someone who had never doubted her place in the world. She scooped up the forgotten plush, dusted it off and pressed it firmly into Hinano’s hands, tapping her wrist gently and said in damn near perfect Japanese:

 “Whenever things start feeling like too much, find me. I’ll protect you, no matter what.” Hinano’s frantic breathing stuttered. Her gaze fixed on Jin Ae’s fierce little face and slowly—so slowly—she inhaled deeper. The trembling ebbed, the tears welled but didn’t fall anymore. She clutched the cow like it was a rope thrown into the storm and nodded once.

Minho’s throat burned. He pulled both girls into another hug, burying his face in their hair, giving each a small kiss before letting them go.

“You never have to apologize,” he whispered when Hinano’s mouth began to form Gomen. “Not ever. Not for how you feel. Sungie and I will always be here for you and so will Jin Ae apparently.” He met Felix’s gaze behind where the girls stood and watched as the younger Omega put a hand over his heart like he was overwhelmed by the love in the room. Once he stood, his knees cracking from being on the hard linoleum too long, he put his hand out for Hinano to hold in case she needed it. Instead, she surprised him again by reaching for Jin Ae’s hand and dragging her off into the next aisle.

“I think those two might be fated.” Felix sang out in his fake high pitched voice he did just to be annoying. They were still too young to tell something like that but even Minho had to admit there was something special between them.

“Maybe. Let’s finish shopping so we can get back home before Hyunjin really does do irreversible damage to my place.” The pair laughed before following their daughters around the next corner.  

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The big place Jin Ae called a mall had been scary. There were so many people around, it was loud, then there was that scent. The one that reminded her of that strange old man and his son back in Odaiba her mother left her with instead of going to the theme park like she said that morning. Those men had been really mean and hurt her even when she cried. Especially when she cried. She had been there almost a week by the time her mom came back, eyes all glossy and red like they always were. If it weren’t for Jin Ae she would still be back in that memory, crying on the floor of the store. It was different for her, this feeling of comfort she got from the girl just a year younger than her. Different from the way Bunny or Sungie made her feel safe. It was just like she knew Jin Ae would stand by her side no matter what came their way. That she would always have someone in her corner. It was a hard feeling to trust given past experiences.

When she saw the familiar building where Sungie and Bunny lived, she smiled. They had promised her she’d be safe here and she believed them. Bunny had told her as he was helping her out of the car, that Sungie wasn’t here right now because he had to work but that he was so excited to see her. Good because she found she was excited to see his full cheeked face again too. Jin Ae took ahold of her hand as soon as they were both on solid ground, giggling to her as they watched her eomma and Hinano’s Bunny try to grab all the bags at once and struggle.

Upstairs, as they were getting out of the elevator, Hinano heard squealing coming from the door that led to Bunny and Sungie’s place and stiffened. “Don’t worry, that’s just the twins I told you about. Hyune-imo stayed here with them and my brother while we went to bring you home.” Jin Ae’s unwavering confidence gave her the strength to push forward. Suddenly a pretty man with long dark hair tied halfway up and paint smeared across his face opened the door.

“You’re back! And you must be Hinano,” He said the last part in Japanese which she was starting to assume everyone knew even though they gave her a hard time in the orphanage about it and made her take Korean lessons.

The little girl bowed at a crisp 90 degrees as was appropriate when meeting someone new only for Jin Ae to tell her she didn’t have to do that because they were family and family didn’t have to be so formal. A boy then peeked around the pretty man’s leg before going over to Bunny and tried taking bags out of his hand.

“Thank you Jung-seok, such a gentleman.” Hinano watched as the boy’s whole face turned red before putting the bag he took and placing it on the couch.

“That’s Jung-seok, I think he has a crush on Minho-imo. He’s the quieter of the twins so he’s not as annoying.” As if on cue another boy came over and pulled Jin Ae’s ponytail, the girl ran after him leaving her standing there alone.

 “I’ve been working on something for you Hinano, would you like to see?” The pretty man who she could only assume was Hyune, looked up at Bunny then back down to her, motioning to go down the hallway. Hinano followed after him, looking over her shoulder to make sure Bunny was there still.

“I did some research, found out your name is a variation of the word Sunflower and wanted to do this for you. I hope you like it. If not we can paint over it, whatever you want.” Hinano stepped inside, her eyes widening, hand slipping into Minho’s without her realizing.

The far bedroom wall had been transformed. A mural of sunflowers stretched across, bright and golden, their faces turned to the painted sun. It was beautiful, sunflowers were actually her grandma’s favorite. She had even told her before she went to the sky that it’s why her name was Hinano. Tears left her eyes for the second time that day, without her knowledge and she reached out, hand barely grazing Hyunjin’s in a form of appreciation. The man smiled softly down at her while Bunny spoke.

“Thank you, Hyunjin. This—this means a lot.”

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After managing to start a load of laundry that consisted exclusively of small outfits, and getting some of the necessary items unpacked, Hyunjin declared dinner ready. He somehow managed to cook stir-fry without burning it, though Minho suspected Felix had helped more than he admitted. The twins had set the table—or rather, scattered utensils with enthusiasm. Jang-ho was already climbing the back of a chair threatening to topple it. When he lunged too close to Hinano she shrank back, shoulders folding in on themselves. Before Minho could rise, Jin Ae planted herself firmly in front of Hinano, arms crossed, expression sharper than a four year old needed it to be.

“Stop it, Jang-ho,” She commanded. “She’s with me.”

Jang-ho blinked, surprised then sat down muttering something about how icky girls were anyway. Minho saw the relief ease across Hinano’s face, and gratitude so fierce it nearly knocked him over.  Whatever it was that was happening with those two girls he was glad for it, if it meant Hinano had another person looking out for her in this world.

Just as plates were being passed around, the door beeped alerting them to someone entering. Jisung stepped in, travel-worn from the trip to Busan but smiling wide the moment his eyes landed on them. He noticed the way Hinano twitched like she wanted to run to greet him but held back for some unknown reason. That just wouldn’t do, if she was excited to see her Sungie then she should be able to express that. Minho stood, pulled out her chair then jerked his head towards where Jisung was toeing his shoes off by the door. Hinano stared at him for a moment as if waiting to see if he’d take back the offer and when she found whatever she needed to in his eyes she slid off the chair and made her way over to his mate, Minho trailing behind her.

“Welcome home.” Minho gave Jisung a chaste peck on the lips, Jung-seok looking like he wanted to cry while Tae-yoon just babbled in the carrier he had been napping in.

“I thought Hinano was supposed to be here?” Jisung exclaimed playfully, while pretending to search for the girl that was right beside him. “I wonder where she is?” Hinano pulled at his pant leg, giggling lightly as he sucked in a breath.

“Did you see that?! My pant leg just moved, I think we have a ghost, Min.”

“We’re gonna have to cleanse the house then.” Minho played along with the silly ruse mostly because it seemed like their little flower was enjoying herself.

“Sungie…” Hinano giggled again, voice light and airy like she didn’t have a care in the world and Minho felt that all was right.

“Oh my goodness! When did you get here?” Jisung bent down, posture open and inviting while waiting for her to hug him. It was hard not knowing when hugging was too much or when she actually wanted it so they had come up with this method the last time she had been here for a playdate. Hinano stepped into him cautiously, resting her pudgy little toddler cheek on his shoulder for a few seconds before pulling away with a smile.

“You’re home sooner than I anticipated.” Minho thought Jisung wouldn’t get home until much later even if he had said he’d be home by dinner. He knows that sometimes these contract signings could take hours if not days like when they were negotiating for KickFlip and that was a group that had just debuted in the industry unlike the one they were hoping for today.

“They took pity on me and let me leave after the verbal agreement.”

“You got ATEEZ?” Felix had been standing there with a now awake Tae- yoon suckling at his breast. “Why didn’t Chan call me?” The Omega was instantly hitting the call button on his phone, ignoring whatever Jisung said about them probably being too focused on negotiations.

“Come on, Hyunjin made dinner.” A look of both shock and worry crossed his mates face, making him chuckle as he led him to the table where Hinano had just sat back down. Jin Ae’s hand back to being firmly grasped in her own. Jisung noticed and raised his eyebrow at Minho who just shook his head.

“I’ll fill you in later.”

<><><><><><>

Later came after everyone was finished with dinner and headed home for the night. Jin Ae had tried to convince them to let her stay tonight as well, “In case Hinano needs protection from nightmares.” Felix managed to assuage her by promising they could come back over tomorrow and that she had Minho and Jisung there to protect her in the night. Jin Ae had pouted but let herself be dragged out the door anyway.

Minho was currently running water for Hinano’s bath when Jisung stood in the doorway.

“So Jin Ae has declared Hinano hers? And we have a plethora of toys and little dresses and skirts. Is this real?” Minho understood how he felt. He was afraid himself that he’d wake up in the morning and this would all turn out to be some sort of dream. The Omega stood, wrapping his arms around Jisung’s waist, pulling him in until their foreheads leaned against one another.

“This is very real. She’s here, she’s safe and she’s ours..”

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

Hinano could hear Sungie and Bunny talking but they were speaking Korean again so she didn’t know what they were saying. Instead of it making her feel anxious and worried though she found the tone of their voices soothing. They weren’t angry or loud, just whispered to each other. She could tell they loved each other very much and hoped that meant they would love her too. Jin Ae had left, even though she didn’t want to, with a promise to come back tomorrow Felix had promised to bake her brownies. Hinano had never had brownies before but Jin Ae had assured her they were the most delicious, especially when her eomma made them so she was looking forward to it.

What she wasn’t looking forward to was bath time. Being touched by people was bad enough but being touched while undressed by people only ever meant bad things. She knew Bunny would never hurt her, his touches had only ever been out of love. A hug here, a soft whisper of fingers brushing her hair behind her ear there. But it still made that uneasy feeling claw its way up from her tummy. Hinano walked down the hallway where the bathroom she was told would be all hers was and clutched at Moo.

“Are you ready for your bath, Hinano?” She stood there, thought for a moment to two, then determined to overcome this, nodded.

“Okay but we don’t want your cow stuffie getting wet right? So how about we put it right here until you’re finished.” Minho patted the counter; she stared at it but didn’t move to place him there.

“Hinano,” It must have been too long because Bunny’s soft voice came from beside her, “The water will get cold if you wait too long.”

“I—I don’t like when doors close,” she whispered before she even realized she was talking, voice small and halting. “Before, when the doors closed mama would say I had to be nice with the men. I don’t want…” She trailed off, clutching the cow tighter, as if the plush could keep the words from spilling out.

“I know you’re different than them, I do. But sometimes my head still tells me the scary men could come back.” Bunny didn’t get mad. He didn’t look away either. He lowered himself all the way to the floor so his eyes were level with hers. His scent rolled over her—earthy, clean, safe. Like the cloud of steam coming from a tea up on a rainy spring day. His hands stayed folded in his lap where she could see them.

“You don’t ever have to be nice like that again,” he told her, voice deep and steady, like stones that wouldn’t move no matter how hard they were being pushed. “Bath time is only for feeling warm and safe and clean. No one will touch you unless you ask. Not me, not Sungie, not anybody. You can keep the door open. I will sit right here with Moo and make sure of that. You can say no whenever you want to whatever you want and it will always mean no.”

The tight feeling in her chest loosened, just a little. She peeked at him then, and he was still looking at her the same way as before—soft, steady, safe. She nodded and hugged her plushie tighter before handing her over to Bunny who said he could sit right there on the counter where he could see everything. That helped a lot. The door stayed open, just like Bunny promised. She could hear Sungie in the other room, singing something silly about rice cakes, his voice going up and down like a cartoon. It made her lips twitch even though her tummy was still rumbly.

Bunny knelt by the tub, rolling up his sleeves. “See? Look.” He stuck his big hand in the water first, swishing it around. “If you get in right now you’ll have the perfect temperature for bath water. Not too hot, not too cold but just right.” He looked at her in her face, didn’t let his eyes wander down her body as she slowly started to undress. Hinano dutifully set cow plush on the counter and dipped her toes in, holding her breath. The water hugged her feet warm, no one waiting underneath for her. She climbed in fast before she could change her mind.

“There she goes!” Bunny clapped softly, like she had just done the bravest thing in the world. He gave her a cup to pour water on her arms but didn’t do it for her. She liked that. She liked being the one to decide. When her hair needed washing, a daunting task for a five year old to do alone in the best of circumstances, Sungie came in with a towel draped over his head like a funny hat.

“Does someone need a shampoo monster?” He growled in a silly deep voice, wiggling his fingers. Hinano squealed before she could stop herself, hugging her knees tight. Bunny was laughing too, shaking his head, but there was no angry sound to it.

“Remember what we talked about, you can tell the shampoo monster no,” Bunny reminded her gently, leaning in just a bit closer but whispering loudly. “And he’ll go away.”

Hinano blinked at Sungie. “No,’ she whispered.

“Aw, man!” Sungie groaned, throwing his hands up like he had been defeated. He made a big show of backing out of the room as if the word no was his kryptonite. Hinano’s giggle bubbled up again. Bunny smiled at her, scooping up a little water into his palm from the far end of the tub and let it trickle over her hair so slowly, so carefully.

“See? No monsters here, just Bunny.”

When it was all done, Sungie wrapped her in a fluffy towel as big as a blanket. He didn’t squeeze her, just patted her dry while Bunny brushed out her damp hair with careful strokes. She looked up at both of them, and the bad thoughts just stayed quite this time.

Chapter Text

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After the bath and a few—7– bedtime stories, they managed to get Hinano to sleep. She had been fighting it but after hearing about The Tortoise and The Hare, which Jisung made into a song, she was out like a light. He stayed there sitting on the beanbag in the corner, watching over her just because he couldn’t get enough of seeing her here—safe. He hadn’t realized just how long he had been sitting there like a silent sentinel until Minho’s figure crossed into his peripheral as he moved down the hallway. He didn’t stop and demand Jisung leave her side, didn’t poke his head in to see if everything was alright. Just left him there until he was ready to get up.

Which he probably should.

He stole one more glance at her face; brow still tense even in sleep, long dark lashes lay like crescent moons on her pale skin, soft rhythmic breathing leaving her slightly parted lips. He wanted to reach out and smooth some hair that covered part of her face or give her a quick kiss but didn’t. Because she didn’t say he could. He would not be a reason she felt unsafe again.

 So instead, he stood up closing the door quietly behind him and made his way to the bedroom to find his mate just exiting from the bathroom with only a towel around his lean waist, hair still dripping fat droplets down his back. There were fewer things in this world that was more beautiful than a partially dressed Minho and a wet partially dressed Minho was definitely at the top of his list.

Jisung leaned a shoulder against the door frame, arms folding lazily across his chest though his gaze betrayed nothing casual. It was hungry, reverent, a little desperate. He wasn’t expecting the rush of want he was experience considering everything else that was going on but he also wasn’t going to deny it.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Minho looked up as if pulled from somewhere far away, eyes catching on Jisung’s like magnets. They were bright, like he knew the thoughts roaming around his mate's head and tried to lure him in with just those brown orbs. The sight made Jisung ache in the best possible way.

“You stayed with her a while,” Minho murmured, toweling at his hair one-handed before tossing the damp fabric onto the abused chair in the room. His voice carried that husky, end-of-the-day weight, worn thin but careful.

“Couldn’t help it,” Jisung admitted. He stepped into the room, letting the door click shut behind him. “I wanted to stay until I was sure she wouldn’t wake up again.”

Minho’s mouth softened. “She’s safe. You can breathe now.”

Jisung swallowed hard, then shook his head. “I hate that I wasn’t there for the meltdown earlier. You shouldn’t have had to handle that alone.”

“You didn’t miss anything I couldn’t manage.” Minho’s tone was even, but his eyes flicked away for a heartbeat. “And Jin-Ae helped more than you think. She’s got this… fearless thing about her. Hinano listened when she wouldn’t listen to me.”

That coaxed the tiniest laugh out of Jisung. “Figures. Four years old and already running the room.”

“She’s gonna end up just like her Appa,” Minho tilted his head while rolling his eyes fondly.

The banter smoothed some of the tension from Jisung’s chest, but not all. “Still. I should’ve been there.” His voice cracked on the last word, a frustration he didn’t mean to let slip.

Minho closed the space between them before Jisung could retreat into guilt. Cool fingers brushed his arm, grounding. “Sung, all that matters is you’re here now.”

That assurance seeped into his bones, loosening something tight. He caught Minho’s hand before it could fall away, thumb stroking across damp knuckles. The sight of him—skin flushed from the shower, droplets still tracing lines down his chest, towel slung dangerously low—pulled Jisung’s focus in a way he couldn’t fight.

“Do you have any idea,” he murmured, leaning closer, “how unfair it is to look like this when I’m trying to have a serious conversation?”

Minho raised an eyebrow, but his lips quirked. “Unfair?”

“Cruel, actually.” Jisung’s grin curved sharper as he pushed gently, easing Minho back until his knees brushed the edge of the mattress. He bent in, mouth ghosting along Minho’s jaw. “You’re dripping wet and practically begging me to—”

Minho’s sharp inhale cut him off. His body tilted, surrendering without words. Jisung slid to his knees with the ease of habit, pressing one last kiss to Minho’s stomach as his hands braced against lean hips.

“Jisung…” Minho’s warning was breathless, more plea than protest.

What?” Jisung teased, lips brushing a damp inner thigh. “Can’t handle a little attention? After the day you’ve had, you deserve to be worshipped.”

His hands slid lower, fingers inching under the edge of the towel, tugging playfully before smoothing back up Minho’s thighs. Every move was deliberate, slow, like he had all the time in the world. He wanted to see Minho squirm, wanted to draw out the moment until anticipation hummed between them like static.

“You’re impossible,” Minho whispered, though his head tipped back when Jisung mouthed along the column of his neck.

“You love it.” Jisung’s voice had gone rough, serious now as he dropped to his knees. He pressed a lingering kiss to the flat plane of Minho’s stomach, right above where the towel sat, letting his hands slide higher until Minho gasped.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured, fingers daring at the knot of fabric—

A scream shattered the air.

Hinano’s.

Both men froze. For a split second Jisung’s instincts warred with his desire, but then Minho was already moving, tugging on a pair of sweats that had been lying on the bed, as he bolted for the hallway. Jisung stumbled up after him, heart slamming, whatever fire had been building between them snuffed out by the raw terror in that child’s cry.

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The room was too loud. The scent overwhelming, like the cloud coming out the back of a bus. It made her nose crinkle.

Shadows stretched like long fingers across the walls, reaching for her no matter where she turned. She tried to hide behind her mother's leg, but the voices kept slipping through. Harsh, sharp, like glass breaking over and over again. Then her mama shoved her forward.

“Will you take her instead?”

Her mother’s voice. Slurred, far away and yet right in her ear.

Hinano’s stomach twisted. She shook her head hard, hair slapping across her cheeks. “No, no, no,” she whispered, but her voice came out small, swallowed by laughter that wasn’t kind. A man’s hand—too big, too heavy—reached for her wrist. She pulled back, but her feet wouldn’t move. The floor turned sticky, trapping her like flypaper.

“Be good,” her mother said, eyes glittering wrong, not soft like they used to be as she put the flame under her special spoon.  “Be good and it’ll be over quick.”

The man’s shadow loomed taller, bending down

She wanted to run but her legs wouldn’t move. A hand—huge, all shadows—closed around her wrist.

“Stay still girl, stop squirming.”

“No!” The word ripped out of her, shrill and raw. She kicked but the dream floor stuck fast. “Stop! Let me go!”

Hinano screamed.

And the dream shattered.

She jerked awake, body wet with sweat, her throat burning from the sound still pouring out of her. Her cow was crushed tight against her chest, but it didn’t make the shadows go away. They clung to the corners, reaching, stretching, waiting. Her heart slammed so hard it hurt.

She screamed again, louder, until the door burst open.

Light. Real light this time. And voices—familiar ones.

“Hinano!” Minho’s breathless voice, raw around the edges.

“I’ve got you, I’m here—” Jisung’s softer one, tangled with panic.

They rushed in together, crowding out the bad shadows. Her tears blurred their faces, but she knew them anyway. Safe. Safe.

Her body moved before her mind could catch up. She reached out with both arms, Moo squashed between and latched onto them. Both of them. Her fists knotted in damp cotton and warm skin, pulling them down to her, needing them closer.

The bad dream feelings still crawled under her skin, but their smells—clean earth and spicy warmth—pushed some of it back. Big hands rubbed her arms, her back, her hair. They didn’t tug, didn’t scold. Just held her.

Her sobs came slower after a while, though the hiccups kept shaking her chest. Bunny rocked her gently, and Sungie’s hand rubbed steady circles at her back. Between them, the nightmare didn’t feel as sharp anymore.

“Do you want to stay with us tonight?” Sungie whispered against her hair.

Hinano shook her head. She didn’t want the shadows in her room to win either. But the thought of lying there alone again made her throat close up.

Bunny seemed to understand anyway. He pressed his cheek against her crown, voice low and careful. “You know… when I was little and I got a nightmare, my mother made me a nest to sleep in. It was soft and warm and smelled like her. Omegas do that for their kids sometimes, so they feel safe.”

Hinano blinked up at him, still curled against both men. “A… nest?”

“Mhm.” Bunny smiled gently, teeth peeking out. “Blankets and pillows all piled up, just the way you like. We could make one together in your room.”

Her chest fluttered. The idea felt big. Safe. Like hiding under all the blankets at once, but better—because it would be hers. And if it smelled like them, the bad dream couldn’t get her.

She sniffled, eyes darting between the two of them. “With… your things?”

“If you want,” Sungie said quickly, brushing tears from her cheek with his thumb. “

Hinano hesitated, but then her bunny squished tighter in her arms and she nodded. “I want.”

That made both of them smile in that soft way she didn’t always understand. Minho kissed her hair, careful and light, and whispered, “Then let’s make you a nest, sweetheart. One that belongs only to you.”

Her cow plushie was still tucked under her chin when Bunny let her go. The bad dream wasn’t gone yet, but it was quieter now. Not so sharp.

Bunny crouched low, smiling even though his eyes were shiny. “Want to help me build your nest?”

Hinano nodded, wiping her nose on the back of her sleeve. Sungie chuckled softly and grabbed a tissue, helping her blow before they began. 

They pulled all the blankets from the closet first—soft ones, fuzzy ones, even the scratchy one that looked like Bunny’s sweater. Hinano pushed that one aside. “Not this. It tickles.”

“Fair enough,” Jisung said, folding it neatly anyway.

They made a pile her bed, Bunny showing her how to crisscross the heavier blankets at the bottom and pile pillows high along the sides. It started looking like a little cave, soft walls that curved around her like arms but something was missing. She pursed her little lips looking around grabbed a soft blue blanket, holding it out to Sungie.

“Can you— I want this to smell like you….please?” Hinano wasn’t sure if she were allowed to ask. It felt like it was important though.

Sungie looked at her with eyes wider than she had ever seen them and carefully plucked it from her hand almost as if it would break. Hinano then set out and found a big stuffed black kitty that had lived here before her and held it out for Bunny. She didn’t have to ask him; he took it with the same softness and rubbed it along his neck and face. She repeated this process until the scents of them combined filled her with a warm fuzzy feeling in her tummy. Once the nest was just how she wanted Hinano climbed in with a giggle.

“Feels nice.”

“Yeah?”  Minho asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Mmhm.” She bounced once more for good measure.

Hinano’s fingers twisted in the plush cow's ears. She thought about the shadows in her dream, the way they grabbed at her. Maybe she could ask for more. 

"Can I have more,” she whispered. 

Sungie disappeared and came back with one of his shirts. It was soft and worn, the kind of shirt that has been kept around far longer than it needed. He held it out like an offering, bowing deeply and with exaggeration. “Will this one do madam?”

Hinano buried her face in it, scrunching her nose. Warm. Sweet. Like ginger snap cookies. She hugged it close. “Thank you. Bunny?”

Minho gave her a look she didn’t understand but smiled so she knew he wasn’t upset, standing to fetch one of his own things. A hoodie she had seen him worn a few times during the visits they had.

Hinano pressed it to her face. It smelled just like him. She patted each one in place, arranging them until it felt right, Sungie’s shirt on the right side of her pillow and Bunny’s hoodie on the left. . Her nest wasn’t just soft now—it was hers. Hers, and safe, and filled with the people she wanted.

She curled into the middle, plush bunny under her chin, snuggling in deeply. The shadows couldn’t get her here.

When Bunny asked quietly, “Better?” she nodded hard, words stuck in her throat but heart finally loosening.

“Thank you,” she whispered instead, eyes already slipping shut.

And this time, she didn’t dream of shadows.

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

The first thing Minho noticed when he woke was the silence. Not the taut, waiting kind that had hung over the house since Hinano came to them, but something softer. Settled.

He padded quietly down the hall, half-expecting to find her awake and hovering by the door.  Instead, he found her curled in the middle of the nest they’d built last night.

Blankets piled high around her, cow plush clutched under her chin. One small hand fisted in Jisung’s ratty old t-shirt he often wore to the gym (he still couldn’t believe that was what he chose to give her), the other tangled deep in the sleeve of Minho’s favorite hoodie. The sight of it made his chest go tight, the kind of ache that pressed behind his ribs and wouldn’t let go.

She’d accepted their scents. Chosen them. Wrapped herself in them without fear.

Minho lingered  at the doorway, unwilling to break the moment. She looked smaller than usual, her mouth parted in sleep, lashes casting crescents on her cheeks. But she didn’t look haunted. Not this morning.

Behind him, Jisung padded up, hair sticking out in every direction. He leaned into Minho’s shoulder, following his gaze. His sigh was quiet, almost reverent. “She slept through the night.”

“She did.” Minho let the relief color his voice. “The nest worked.”

Jisung’s lips pressed together, eyes damp as he stared at the little girl wrapped in their clothes. “That’ll make bedtime easier. It was a great idea, Min.”

Minho nodded, still watching her. He could feel his instincts humming low, pleased, protective. Ours, his body whispered. He could feel the truth of it in his very bones. She was meant to be with them.

“We should head out to the orphanages soon,” Jisung murmured at his side.

Minho nodded slowly. His eyes didn’t leave Hinano. “She shouldn’t have to go back there. For any reason.”

Jisung leaned against the wall. “Then maybe Felix and Chan can watch her for a few hours?”

The thought made Minho’s stomach tighten. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them—he trusted them more than anyone—but leaving her felt like trying to set down something too fragile.

Still, he pulled his phone from his pocket and hit his friends contact. It only rang twice.

“Minho?” Chan’s voice came warm and alert, even this early.

“Hey,” Minho said quietly, glancing back at Hinano to make sure his voice hadn’t woken her. “Sorry to call so early. We… we need to finish the paperwork at the orphanage this morning and Felix said something about possibly watching Hinano today? I just wanted to call and make sure you were awake first.”

“Of course,” Chan said immediately, without hesitation. “Bring her over whenever you need. Jin Ae will be thrilled.”

From somewhere behind him, Felix’s voice chimed in: “Tell them she can stay as long as they need!”

Minho swallowed against the tightness in his throat. “She’s… still adjusting. She gets startled easily, and she doesn’t like being touched unless she says it’s okay. I just—”

“Minho,” Chan interrupted gently, his tone firm. “We’ve got it. We’ll respect her boundaries. Always.”

There was a pause, then Felix’s voice again, softer this time: “She’ll be safe here. I promise.”

Some of the weight eased off Minho’s shoulders. Jisung nudged his side, whispering, “See? They’ve got her.”

“Alright,” Minho said finally. “We’ll bring her after breakfast.”

When he hung up, Jisung slung an arm around him, squeezing once. “Jagi, we don’t have to carry all of this alone. We’ve got a pack. Let’s use it.”

Minho let out a slow breath, looking back at Hinano curled safe in her nest. Maybe he could.

Minho squeezed Jisung’s hand once before rising. “Then let’s get it done.”

By the time she stirred, breakfast was already underway. Jisung insisted on cooking, claiming he’d “mastered” eggs now, though Minho hovered close with a dishtowel, just in case. He wasn’t as bad as Hyunjin but definitely more of an instant ramen type cook.

Hinano shuffled into the kitchen with Moo trailing on the floor like a cape. She climbed onto one of the chairs and tucked her knees under her, chin resting on the table.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Minho murmured, setting a bowl of rice in front of her.

“Morning, Bunny,” she mumbled back, yawning before adding, “Morning, Sungie.”

Jisung spun from the stove, spatula in hand like a sword. “Good morning to you, my princess of pancakes.”

Hinano giggled, quick and surprised, and Minho caught the way she ducked her face, embarrassed by her own laugh.

Breakfast became a gentle kind of chaos. Jisung tried to shape the pancakes into shapes, but they ended up looking like a pile of sadness instead. Hinano stared at it with wide eyes before declaring solemnly, “It looks like a mouse.”

“See?” Jisung said proudly. “Artistic genius.”

“It looks like the pancakes exploded,” Minho countered.

Hinano snorted so loudly she startled herself, clapping a hand over her mouth. Minho winked at her, and she giggled again, freer this time.

She ate in little nibbles at first, poking at it before daring bigger bites. When Minho slipped some cut fruit onto her plate, she carefully picked out ate the pieces she liked best, sliding the rest onto Jisung’s plate without asking.

Jisung blinked down at the offering. “Oh, thank you. How did you know Sungie loves grapes…and melon rinds?”

Hinano’s smile was quick, mischievous, and Minho’s chest nearly burst. He loved that each moment she spent with them, a little more of her personality shown through.

 Suddenly, a door slammed down the hall, followed by a shout. Hinano stiffened instantly, chopsticks clattering. Her eyes went wide, body trembling.

Minho reached across the table, but she beat him to it. Her small hand latched onto his, the other reaching blindly for Jisung’s sleeve until she was holding them both tight.

“It's okay,” Minho whispered, squeezing gently. “Just noisy neighbors. No one can hurt you here, Hinano.”

Jisung laid his hand over hers, steady. “We’ve got you.”

Slowly, she nodded. The tremor in her shoulders eased, though she didn’t let go of them until long after the hallway had gone quiet.

<><><><><><> 

Later, at Felix and Chan’s, the house was a whirlwind of toys. Jin Ae barreled toward Hinano like a hurricane in braids.

“Come on! I’ll show you my dolls!”

Hinano hesitated, glancing back at Minho. He gave her a small nod, and she clutched Moo tight before letting herself be tugged away.

From the kitchen, Minho watched them disappear into the playroom while Felix poured tea.

“How’s she doing this morning?” Felix asked quietly.

“Better,” Minho replied, though the memory of her flinch at breakfast still tugged at him.

Chan leaned against the counter, bouncing Tae-Yoon gently. “You can bring her over any time; Jin Ae has winter break so I’m sure she’ll enjoy the company.”  

“I wanted to ask, do you think I can get her in school with Jin Ae or wait should we wait until the next semester?”  Minho wanted Hinano to be with someone she knew, someone who would make her feel comfortable in a new atmosphere where he couldn’t be with her.

 “Jin Ae’s at Haneul Academy. But that’s a decent way away from your apartment, no?” Chan finally got the baby to burp and kissed his mates cheek when handed a cup of coffee.

“If we need to move then we’ll move. Anything for a Hinano.” Jisung stated like it was the most obvious choice in the world and Minho damn near swooned.

“Of course, I’ll write a recommendation then.” Chan smiled, dimples and all. Sometimes Minho felt extremely grateful to be a part of this ragtag pack they’ve assembled over the years.

Felix nodded, smile just as sweet as the man himself.  “It’ll mean learning more Korean, though.”

At that, Hinano, who had crept back to the doorway, stiffened.

“No... Japanese?” she asked, haltingly, in a mix of both languages.

Minho crouched, keeping his voice steady. “No, sweetheart. You can always speak Japanese. That’s part of you. But learning Korean will make things easier—at school, with friends, with teachers. Not harder. Just easier.”

She frowned, lip trembling. “Hard.”

Jisung knelt beside them, offering his hand like a peace treaty. “Hard doesn’t mean you can’t do it. We believe in you. And we’ll practice at home, every day, together. Right, jagi?”

“Right,” Minho said firmly, brushing her hair back. “One word at a time. You don’t have to stop being Hinano. This just makes it easier for people to know how amazing you are.”

Before she could reply, Jin Ae popped her head around the corner, hands on her hips like a tiny general. “I’ll help!”

Felix snorted into his tea. “You’re four.”

“Four but appa says I’m a genius,” she declared proudly, then tugged at Hinano’s hand. “Come on! I’ll teach you colors!”

Hinano looked back once more, stuffed cow clutched to her chest. Her eyes were still uncertain, but her smile—small and soft—was real as she let herself be pulled into the playroom.

Minho’s chest eased, watching her go. For the first time, he let himself imagine a future that wasn’t just about surviving the next day—but building something brighter, word by word, step by step.

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

Hinano sat cross-legged on the big rug in Jin Ae’s room, Moo tucked safely against her side. The rug was soft and pale like clouds but scattered with wooden blocks and picture cards. Jin Ae, who was four and so confident she sometimes felt like a grown-up already, held up a bright red crayon between her small fingers.

“빨강,” Jin Ae announced proudly. Her voice was strong, like she was teaching a whole classroom instead of just one friend.

Hinano tilted her head. She already knew some words in Korean, but sometimes they slipped away like fish when she tried to hold them. “빨강… red?” she asked, pointing carefully.

Jin Ae grinned, the kind of grin that showed she liked being the teacher. “Yes! 빨강 is red.” She immediately rummaged through the crayons and pulled out another that matched the bright yellow dress she chose all by herself (she said so twice) puffed around her as she settled back down, “노랑. Yellow.”

Hinano repeated it shyly, her voice softer. “노랑… yellow.”

Jin Ae’s smile was the sparkly kind, almost as bright as the stars at night. “Mm-hm. Yellow. Now—” Her hand hovered, then pounced on a blue crayon. “파랑.”

Blue. Hinano knew blue. She liked the way the word felt in her mouth—soft and round at the end. “파랑. Blue.”

“Good.” Jin Ae dug again and came up with green. “초록.”

Hinano hesitated, then whispered without thinking, “みどり.” She blinked and snuck a quick look at Jin Ae, in case that was not allowed.

Jin Ae looked pleased with herself for thinking of the lesson. “You can say them both if you want,” she declared. “Appa says that means you’re smart. It’s why he taught me too! So I can be smart like him!”

“Okay,” Jin Ae said, slapping her hands on her knees like a coach. “Purple. 보라. And also, bonus round, pink. 분홍.”

Hinano touched the purple, then the pink, then the purple again. “Bo…ra,” she tried, mouth wobbling around the r. “Bu…nhong.”  Her belly made a small sound, the kind that felt like tapping on the inside of a drum.

Jin Ae’s head snapped up. She tilted her ear toward Hinano’s stomach, like she was a doctor with a special invisible stethoscope.

“Hungry?” Her eyes darted at the door before Jin Ae jumped to her feet and stuck out her hand. “Come!”

Hinano looked at the hand the way she sometimes looked at high steps: with both wish and worry. Then she put her fingers in Jin Ae’s, and the two of them tiptoed into the hallway like they were meeting a secret.

The hallway was bright, the light from the big windows pooling on the floor. The air was warm enough to make her skin feel soft, and the house’s hum was louder here, like they’d stepped closer to its heart. The chocolate smell was a blanket waiting to be pulled over her head.

They turned the corner into the main area of the house—and Hinano stopped.  Hinano’s hand let go of Jin Ae’s before she even knew she’d done it. The fizz of worry turned into soda, all bubbles, all at once. Her throat went tight like the neck of a balloon. She clutched her plush cow by both ears as if it were a handle to keep her from falling.

Not here. They were not here. Bunny and Sungie had to be here because today was a good day and she had been good and said the colors right even when she wanted to say them wrong. She stood very still so the house wouldn’t notice she was about to cry and take it as permission.

“Hina?” Jin Ae’s voice was soft and perplexed. She looked over her shoulder, then called out toward the kitchen. “Eomma?! Something's wrong with Hinano!”

There was a pause—one second, then two. The kitchen made a small happy sound, a little metal clink—and then he appeared: Felix, wiping his hands on a towel, hair bright with two braids framing his freckled face.

“Hey,” he said, and crouched so he wasn’t towering. “I was about to come get you.”

Hinano pressed Moo to her chest so tightly she could feel her own heartbeat bumping the cotton. She opened her mouth and nothing came out at first, just a tiny inhale that squeaked.

Her lip trembled before she could stop it. “Bunny… Sungie…”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Felix’s hand hovered, then settled light on her shoulder. “They just had to go take care of something. They’ll be back in a blink.” A grin tilted playfully across his face. “And while we wait—didn’t I promise you brownies?”

“You did yesterday!” Jin Ae said, proud to be the keeper of such important information. She took two enthusiastic steps toward the kitchen. 

“Okay,” she said, so quietly it almost wasn’t a word. “Brownies.”

Felix’s face brightened, which she hadn’t known it could even more than it already was.

“Okay.” He stood and held one hand out which she deemed safe enough to take hold of. “Come on.”

The kitchen was shiny and bright, with plants on the sill that had tiny new leaves like folded hands. A cooling rack held a pan of cutting-board-straight brownie squares, and when Felix flipped a piece onto a plate, steam lifted up like a soft wave. The fork he placed next to it was light as a feather and clinked against the plate like a bell.

Hinano’s first bite was soft and hot and sweet. The chocolate pooled on her tongue, heavy and kind. Her eyes went wide on their own. She looked up at Felix and then down again quickly, as she continued

“Good?” Felix asked, resting his elbows on the counter as if he had nowhere else to be.

She nodded so hard her stuffies arm flopped into the plate. She rescued it fast. “Good.”

“Better eat before Chan steals them all,” Felix teased.

“Hey, that’s not fair.” Chan’s voice rumbled as he came in, smile crinkling his eyes. He leaned against the counter near her, making himself smaller by bending a little at the waist. “I only steal half.”

Felix rolled his eyes, grinning. “Sure, half.”

Chan hooked a stool with his foot and sat so his shoulder was near Hinano’s but not touching. “Jin Ae teaching you well?”

Hinano nodded quickly, her cow's ear brushing her arm. “빨강. 파랑. 초록.” Then, softer, “あか… あお… みどり.”

“We did a bonus round,” Jin Ae added, swinging her heels. “Pink and purple. 보라 and 분홍. And she said them in Japanese too.” She puffed

“Wow,” Chan said, eyebrows lifting. “Two different languages means twice as smart.” He winked. “What about brownie color? Brown.”

Hinano nodded, tucking the plushie into the crook of her elbow so it could watch the brownie disappear, piece by piece.  “Brownie is… um… uh.”

“갈색,” Chan supplied, nodding seriously, as if this were an advanced class. “Brown. And also the most important color when it’s brownies.”

Felix pretended to think very hard. “What about golden? That’s important too.” He tapped the top of the brownie. “When the edges get golden-brown?”

“Golden,” Hinano tried, liking how the word opened like a door. She smiled at him shyly, and he gave her one back, chimney-warm.

Hinano giggled into her hand. The brownie was gooey and warm, chocolate sticking to her tongue in the nicest way. Her shoulders loosened, and she swung her feet under the stool.

“Do you want milk?” Felix asked, already halfway to the fridge as if he knew the answer.

She nodded—carefully this time because nodding too hard might put Moo’s arm back on the plate—and he poured it into a cup with a blue stripe. The cup felt thick and safe in her hands. The milk was cold enough to make her teeth hum a little.

By the time she finished licking the last crumbs from her fingers, the front door opened. A new voice filled the house, deep and booming in a way that made her tummy flip with nerves.

“Hello?” The booming voice called out

He filled the doorway a second later. Hinano’s first thought was, oh—because he was not just big; he was… solid, like a person made by stacking smooth river stones into a tower. His shoulders moved like they could carry things without noticing. He had a cap pulled low in a way that made his cheeks look softer, and his mouth had a line of a smile. When he laughed, the sound rolled, not sharp but round, the kind of boom that made your feet tingle on the floor from the vibration.

“Bin-hyung,” Felix said, and the name came out sunny. “We’re having brownies, would you like one?”

“One of your magical brownies? Count me in!”  the man answered, and then he saw Jin Ae and only had time to open his arms before she launched. She flew like a little comet and he caught her the way you catch habits—effortless, like he’d always been catching her since she could jump. “Monkey,” he said, breath puffing in a laugh. “Did you climb the roof while I was gone?”

“Not yet,” Jin Ae declared as he swung her up onto his shoulders like she weighed nothing. Jin Ae giggled so hard she almost tipped backward, but his strong hands kept her steady.

Chan snorted. “You just gave her an idea.”

“She already had it,” Felix murmured. “We’re living on borrowed time.”

The man smiled at her, but it was big and toothy, and for a moment she felt her throat close. Too much. Too new.

Her chest squeezed again. She shrank back on the stool, watching. Hinano held her stuffie so its little fabric eyes faced the doorway. She was ready to make it a shield if she needed to. She didn’t think she would. But just in case. The cow's arm had a chocolate smudge. It looked like a secret badge.

Hinano watched as Jin Ae continued giggling while pulling at the man's hat. If Jin Ae could climb all over him and laugh like that… maybe he wasn’t scary after all. Maybe he was just big, like a giant pillow instead of a monster.

The man's gaze shifted then, and he looked at where she sat on the chair. His whole face changed then. He adjusted Jin Ae on his hip, and the motion was surprised-gentle, like realizing the room had a wild animal in it and you didn’t want to scare it. He crouched with Jin Ae still attached so his eyes were closer to Hinano’s, and because he was so big, crouching made him small in a way that felt like a trick.

“Hi,” he said in shaky Japanese. “You must be Hinano.”

Hinano’s mouth got dry in a single blink. She nodded, then tightened her hands around Moo to gain some sort of strength.

“This is Changbin-samchon but I like to call him Dwaekki!” Jin ae announced proudly then lowered her voice just a bit like she was going to tell Hinano a secret. “I call him that because he eats like a piggy but is soft and kind a rabbit.”

“Yah!” Changbin exclaimed while pulling Jin Ae from his shoulder into the cradle of his arm to tickle her so much Hinano thought she might pee.

Hinano felt a little laugh wanting to come out, which surprised her. It jingled in her chest like a bell on a cat. She pressed Moo to her chest. Changbin had the same not-sharp smile as in the doorway, but now that he was close, she could see it better—it was the kind of smile that had room in it.

“Do you like Felix-ah’s  brownies?” He asked her, almost like there was a right and a wrong answer.

She nodded again shyly, then Felix slid a plate across the counter like he’d been waiting. “I saved you one before Chan could eat them all,” he said gravely.

“I am being slandered in my own kitchen,” Chan muttered, but he didn’t stop smiling. Hinano watched with an eagle eye as Bin, as Felix had called him, gently set the little girl down before reaching for the plate.

“What have you guys been up to today?” He asked and she wanted to giggle at the smear of chocolate on his chin after he took a bite of the chocolatey goodness.

“I taught Hinano colors in Korean!” Hinano blushed and hid her face behind her plush cow at Jin Ae’s proud exclamation.

“Oh yeah? You’re a teacher now? Where are your credentials?” Bin seemed nicer than he looked as he smiled down at Jin Ae and it gave her courage to speak up.

“Red, blue, green.” She spoke in Korean, her voice much louder than she usually allows around strangers but something told her they wouldn’t mind.

“Whoa.” Changbin’s eyes widened in pretend shock. “That’s very good. Better than me for sure.”

“Hina is super smart!” Jin Ae bounced up to her, patting her head like a proud parent which caused another blush to color Hinano’s pale cheeks which she promptly tried to cover with her hands.

“If you two are finished with your snack, why don’t you go show Binnie- samchon how you learned your colors while drawing while I finished cleaning in here,mmm?” Felix who she was going to call Sunshine now because of the bright light that glowed from within him, started gathering up their dishes and helped her off the chair.

Hinano could do that. Dwaekki seemed nice, if not a little too loud for her liking. Plus, he smelled sort of sweet and maybe expensive in a way that didn’t make her tummy roll.

They had drawn a billion pictures. Some little pink rabbit pig things which she learned is the made-up animal Jin ae called Bin, and they drew puppies and kitties and even frogs!

“Hey that kinda looks like Sung!” Changbin declared at her green frog face next to the pink kitty, smiling gently. Hinano furrowed her eyebrows and titled her head looking at her drawing again. It did have the same round cheeks Sungie always had. A short giggle left her before she heard the front door beep and footsteps heading their way.  

Hinano’s head turned fast without thinking, and then her whole body did. Bunny and Sungie’s voices floated into the room seconds before they turned the corner. As soon as she saw them Hinano felt that place in her chest that was usually reserved for her grandma and stuffed cow swell up. She stood up without thinking and quickly walked—not ran because running inside was dangerous—throwing her arms around one of each of their legs breathing in their scents.

“Sorry, we were gone so long, sweetheart. We thought we would be back sooner.”

“You were almost,” she said, because it felt brave to say it and also true. “Felix made brownies.”

“Ah, betrayal,” Sungie said, staggering backward, hand over his heart. “Cheating on us with chocolate.”

Bunny kissed the top of Hinano’s head. The touch made the air around her feel quiet and tidy. “Were you okay?”

“Yes,” Hinano said, and then glanced at Changbin because it felt important to share all the news. “This is Changbin. He's nice.”

Bunny’s mouth curved. “He is?”  

“Yah!,” Changbin laughed, then looked back at Hinano with a wink. “Thank you for the introduction. Very official.”

“I am advanced,” Hinano reminded him, borrowing Jin Ae’s proud voice for a second, and everyone laughed, a soft chorus that made the house hum seem to rise and join in.

They stayed at Felix and Chan's house a long while—longer than she could count without losing track and starting over—drawing hats and ears and suns, and a puppy and a fox (apparently that was supposed to represent Seungmin and Innie, two other members of the pack she had yet to meet.) She wondered if they’d be nice too.

Channie drew some sort of potato dinosaur and pretended to be offended when everyone made fun of him. Felix stuck the finished pages to the fridge with magnets shaped like fruit. Sungie stole a corner of a brownie and tried to look innocent. Bunny sat next to her, hand playing idly in her hair. She liked how it felt.

When the light moved across the floor and climbed up the couch like it was tired, when Jin Ae laid with her head on Sunshine’s lap not quite asleep but not quite awake, when Changbin stood and the rug made a funny sound like it was releasing a secret weight, Hinano looked around and found that her belly felt full in the good way, not the too-much way. The fizz was gone; in its place was something quieter and heavier and warm. It sat in her ribs and watched everyone as if counting them, not to keep them, but to know they were there.

She pressed Moo to her chest and slid the last drawing across the rug until it touched Changbin’s fingers. “For you.” she said.

His eyes softened as Changbin tucked the pages gently between his hands like it could bruise if he held it too hard. "Thank you. I'll be sure to hang it in my gallery”

Hinano smiled softly at him then leaned into Bunny with a small yawn, her eyes too heavy to keep open. “I think it’s time to get home.” She heard Sungie tell someone.

She allowed herself to be lifted into a pair of arms— quick inhale told her it was Bunny—and a blanket was quickly tossed around her as everyone said their goodbyes. It was then that she realized the feeling she had been having all day. It wasn’t just safety…it was love.

Chapter Text

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

The weeks since they brought Hinano home had been filled with more joy than Minho had ever felt in his life before. Hinano had opened up more and more and he loved watching her growth. Sure, there were moments of regression, a smell here and nightmare there but altogether his little girl seemed happy.

And that was all he wanted for her.

Currently, she was playing with Jin Ae at the bakery where he had come after Felix had called him saying Seungmin seemed to have some sort of breakdown during his shift and was crying in the  office which he locked himself in.

“What’s wrong?” He asked the blond Omega who had just gotten Tae-yoon to settle in the sling across his chest.

“I don’t know he was fine one minute then he checked his phone, ran to the back and locked himself in the office. You know Seungmin usually keeps his emotions close.” That was true the Beta was never an overly emotional being. He had only ever seen him cry maybe... once? That’s definitely what he was doing here too, Minho could smell the saltiness in the air from the tears and the way his eucalyptus mint scent turned almost musty.

Minho sighed before knocking softly on the door.

“Seungmin-ah, will you open the door please?” There wasn’t an answer, but he heard the metallic click of the door unlocking and pushed it open. The sight he was met with broke his heart. Seungmin was sitting on the ground beside the door with his knees pulled up, arms around them and head buried. When he finally looked up, his eyes were red rimmed and still dripping with tears.

“Oh Minnie,” Minho crouched down in front of him and took his face between his hands, “What’s wrong?” He shook his head as best he could with Minho grasping it, soft, fluffy brown hair swishing with the motion.

“He—he’s…” Seungmin trailed off with another sob. The only thing that could get him so worked up was Jeongin so the maknae had to be the ‘he’ part of that sentence.

“Just take a deep breath, okay?” The younger listened, taking in a few shaky breaths before calming down a bit.

“Now tell me what’s wrong.” Minho tried again. Instead of answering though he just held up his phone and there on the screen was some tabloid picture of some auburn-haired man kissing Jeongin’s dimpled cheek and the caption:

 “Famous Omega actor Tanaka Kenji seen out on the town with upstart Alpha Model Yang Jeongin…the start of a new romance?”

Minho’s heart twisted seeing the way Seungmin hunched in on himself, fingers trembling as he clutched the phone like it was the only thing keeping him upright. His cheeks were blotched red, eyes swimming, and for the first time Minho realized how much fear the younger had been carrying in silence.

“I knew,” Seungmin whispered, the words cracking as they left him. “I knew he couldn’t be mine forever. I knew eventually he’d want an Omega. I just didn’t think it’d be now.” His head dropped again, shoulders shaking. “I thought I had more time with him.”

Minho shook his own head firmly, thumbs brushing away the tears streaking down Seungmin’s cheeks. “You think this is real? Look at him, Seungmin. He looks like he was ambushed.” His voice grew steadier, a note of steel slipping into it.  It was true, Jeongin’s usual fox like eyes were wide with surprise. “He’s in love with you. Anyone can see it.”

“People flirt with him all the time when we’re out together and he doesn’t even try to stop them. If he loved me he wouldn’t allow that, right? He could say ‘sorry I’m with my mate right now’ but he doesn’t.” Seungmin sniffled again, wiping his nose on the back of his hand as Minho took his phone from him exiting the tabloids page. Minho exhaled slowly, forcing his tone to soften without losing conviction.

“You know how oblivious he is. If flirting walked right up and waved a flag, he’d just smile and think they were starting a race or something. It took him forever to even realize you liked him. Remember? You brought him coffee every morning for months and he thought it was because you liked practicing his name on the cup. He doesn’t even like hazelnut, but he drank it because you handed it to him.”

“Alphas are meant to be with Omegas...it’s biology... He’s just too nice to tell me himself.” A shaky laugh slipped out of Seungmin despite himself, though tears still clung to his lashes.

Minho hated that he actually believed that. Hated that he wasn’t the only Beta he knew that had thought that. His own mate having similar fears that he would never stop trying to assuage. No one could convince him he’d be better off without his Jisung.  No one could convince him that just because Jisung wasn’t an Alpha that he couldn’t be Minho’s soul mate. He just wished he knew how to convince Seungmin of that.

The door creaked open, and Felix slipped inside quietly, his scent wrapping the room in warm citrus and vanilla. Tae-yoon shifted against his chest in the sling but didn’t wake. Felix crouched down beside them, one hand resting on Seungmin’s knee, thumb rubbing a soothing circle.

“We’ve all seen the way he looks at you, Seungmin,” Felix said softly. “Even when you think he’s busy with something else. He doesn’t look like that at anyone else. That doesn’t change because he’s gotten semi famous now. Plus you how ruthless fans are, if he denied them they’d put up some mean rumor on the internet and his career would be over before it really started.”

“But what if it’s the start of him realizing I’m just… a Beta, that he has a chance with someone else and isn’t just left with me as his only choice” Seungmin whispered, voice thin and heavy with shame. “What if I’m not enough for him anymore?”

“Don’t insult him by thinking that.” Minho squeezed his shoulder gently but firmly, “Don’t insult yourself. Jeongin doesn’t love you because of your secondary gender. He loves you because you’re you—because you steady him when he overthinks, because you’re the one he can be his real self with, because you know how to reach him when no one else can. That doesn’t vanish overnight.”

Felix nodded, his eyes soft glancing at Minho briefly. “And if you don’t believe us then…well maybe you just need to see it for yourself? He deserves to be able to explain this don’t you think?”

Minho caught the hint instantly. “He’s in Osaka, right? Then let’s go. All of us. Christmas isn’t that far away—the kids would love it. We’ll surprise him after his shoot. He deserves to see exactly who’s waiting for him when he walks out that door.”

Seungmin blinked, startled. “Go? Why would I—if it’s over…”

Felix’s voice gentled further. “If it’s really over, which I don’t believe for a second, you deserve him looking you in the eyes when he says it.”

Seungmin hesitated, his lips trembling as if another protest wanted to break free, but the raw panic in his scent had already softened, shifting toward something heavier but calmer. At last, he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, voice hoarse. “Fine. But I’m only going so he can tell me to my face.”

Felix and Minho shared another quiet look over his bowed head. Neither believed for a moment that Jeongin would say anything except the truth Seungmin was too afraid to trust.

Suddenly, the faint patter of small feet echoed outside the door. Before Minho could say anything more, the office door creaked wider and Jin-Ae appeared, her dark eyes sharp as she took in the scene in front of her. Behind her trailed Hinano, clutching her stuffed cow in both hands casting guarded but curious glances at the Beta crying on the floor. He realized then that Seungmin and Hinano had yet to meet even though she’s been with them a few weeks now.

“Eomma, is Minnie-samchon okay?”  Jin-Ae asked head tilted and nose twitching as she took in the distressed scent of her pack member.

Minho watched as Hinano’s gaze landed on Seungmin, who still sat slumped against the wall, eyes red and cheeks blotched. For a moment, her brows furrowed as though she wasn’t quite sure what to do. Then she padded forward without hesitation, the stuffed cow pressed tight to her chest.

She stopped right in front of him, tiny fingers extending the toy outward. “Moo helps when I’m sad,” she said softly, her voice carrying the unshakable sincerity of a child. Her Korean was getting better but she still often spoke in a mixture of Korean and Japanese.

Seungmin blinked, caught off guard, and then another tear spilled before he could stop it. His hand trembled slightly as he took the toy. “Thank you,” he whispered, voice rough but honest.

Hinano nodded once, satisfied, and without asking, sat down beside him leaning into his side. She was small enough that her whole weight barely shifted him, but the warmth was unmistakable. Seungmin froze for a second, then carefully lowered an arm around her, clutching the stuffed cow in the other hand.

Minho’s throat tightened at the sight. His daughter, who only weeks ago had flinched at every sudden movement, was the one bridging the gap—offering comfort as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Jin-Ae huffed, folding her arms, but there was a faint softness in her eyes. “See, Seungmin-samchon You don’t have to cry alone. You’ve got us.”

Felix smiled, shifting Tae-yoon in the sling as the baby murmured in his sleep. “That’s right. You’ve got the whole pack.”

The tension in the room eased, even if Seungmin’s sorrow hadn’t fully lifted. Minho gave his shoulder a squeeze before standing. “Come on. Let’s get out of this office. I’m pretty sure there are some cupcakes calling our names out there.”

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

After the adults went to the back Jin-ae pulled a book from behind the counter and led Hinano to a table near the door. She had tapped it and asked her to read out loud. They had been doing this every time they were together. Bunny had told her if she learned Korean better then she’d be able to make friends easier when she started school and she wanted to make him proud.

Hinano sat with her legs tucked up underneath her, her preferred sitting position, the bright-covered book spread across the table in front of them. The drawings inside were simple—big animals with smiling faces, the kind of story her grandmother would read to her at night.

“Read this part.” Jin-ae urged, scooting her own chair close enough until their shoulders bumped together. She jabbed her finger at the first line under a cartoon bear.

Hinano squinted at the symbols, mouthing them before adding her voice. “Kko…kko…”

“Kko-ma.” Jin-ae grinned. “It means little. Try again.”

“Kko-ma gom,” Hinano said slowly.

“Little bear!” Jin-ae kissed her cheek at the small victory. “See? Easy.”

Hinano giggled, warmth blooming on her face. Reading was still scary sometimes but with Jin-ae beside her, cheering her on at every correct pronunciation, it felt more like a game than learning. She leaned closer to the book, mouthing the next syllables under her breath.

That was when the smell reached her. Sharp at the edges, cool like the plant that hung in their bathroom at home. There was mint too, the kind she liked in tea—but with something underneath, musty and heavy, like a closet left closed for too long.

Her fingers stopped on the page. “What’s that smell?” she whispered.

Jin-ae tilted her head, nose wrinkling. Then her expression softened. “It smells kind of like Seungmin-samchon but like not…sort of like he’s sad?”

Hinano blinked. She knew of this Seungmin, Jin-ae had told her all about the ‘serious samchon’, the one who helped her eomma here at the bakery and scolded her when she tried to steal cookies that were cooling. But she didn’t know him, not really. “Why is he sad?”

Jin-ae shrugged as Hinano studied the bear cub smiling up from the paper, brave even when the forest looked big and scary. Bunny always said sometimes when people are sad the best thing you could do was just be there for them. She hugged her knees for a moment, thinking. Then her gaze drifted to Moo, propped up against the napkin holder on the table. Moo always helped when the heavy feelings pressed down in her chest. Maybe Moo could help Seungmin, too.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Hinano slid from her chair and scooped Moo up. Jin-ae called after her, “Where are you going?” but Hinano only clutched her cow plushie tighter as she pushed open the swinging door following the faint musty thread to a door that was cracked open. Jin-ae must have realized what she had wanted to do and pushed it open.

“Eomma, is Minnie-samchon okay?”  Jin-ae asked pulling Hinano further into the room. A man with fluffy brown hair like a dog her neighbor back when she lived with her grandma used to have….a pomer something, was sitting on the floor. Bunny and Sunshine were kneeling down beside him, his eyes were red rimmed, knees pulled up and arms clutching them. He didn’t look scary at all. He looked tired. Breakable.

Hinano’s heart fluttered, but she stepped forward anyway. Arms outstretched, holding her plushie out for him. “Moo helps when I’m sad.” She tried her best to speak Korean but ended up switching back to her native language.

For a moment he just looked at her but eventually, he reached out and took Moo, his hand shaking and fingers brushing hers. Warm, careful.

“Thank you.” He whispered just as carefully. And just like that Hinano realized she wasn’t afraid of him. Not even a little. So she sat down beside him, letting herself just be there for him.

When Bunny suggested they all leave the small room, Hinano glanced at Seungminnie’s handsome face, waiting. For a moment he didn’t move, only blinked down at Moo, still clutched in his hand, then with a slow breath, he stood.

She slipped her small hand into his, tugging gently and lead him out to the kitchen. Trays of plain cupcakes waited on the counter, and bowls of pastel colored frosting waited next to some plastic bag like things with shiny tips inside them. Jin-ae had already drug a stool over like she had done this many times before, dipping her finger into the frosting and giggling as Sunshine pretended to swat at her bottom.

Hinano clambered up onto her own stool that Bunny had brought for her, sitting beside Seungmin who carefully set Moo on the corner of the counter as if she belonged there too. She watched as he picked up the plastic bag, his hands steady as he loaded some frosting into it and handing it over to her.

“I can try?” she asked, peering up at him through thick dark lashes.

“Of course,” Seungmin murmured, handing her the bag, a soft weary smile on his face as he waited for her to take it.

Hinano squeezed hard and a swirl of pink icing plopped onto the cupcake. She grinned anyway. “This one’s for you,” she declared, pushing it towards him. “Sugar heals.”

A laugh slipped out of him—quiet, almost surprised—but real. Hinano’s chest swelled with pride. She liked making him feel better. She stuck close to him as they worked, handing him sprinkles, nudging finished cupcakes his way, trying to coax more of that sound out.

Jin-ae was loud beside them, tossing rainbow sprinkles all over her cakes like confetti shot from a cannon, laughing with Sunshine and Bunny. If you would have told her a month ago that she’d be surrounded by this sort of happiness she wouldn’t have believe it.

Hinano glanced up at Minnie-samchon every few minutes, checking to see if the musty edge in his scent had faded. Each time she caught the fainted shift back toward that minty smell—clean, sweet, hopeful freshness. She didn’t say anything, only pressed another crookedly frosted cupcake toward him.

The counter was a mess of crumbs, smears of frosting and dozen of cupcakes by the time Bunny smoothed his hand over her head.

“Alright little chef,” he said, smiling as he glanced at the clock on the wall. “Sungie will be home soon. We should go start dinner.”

Hinano hopped down from her stool with help from Minnie, wiping frosting off her hands on a tea towel. He handed Moo back to her with a small smile but this time it reached his eyes. She reached for his hand, giving it a tiny squeeze. “You’ll eat one later, right?

Minnie promised he would, satisfying her for the moment. Bunny stood by the door waiting for her and before she went to him she motioned for Seungmin to come down to her, when he knelt she stepped in between his knees and threw her arms around his neck in a hug. “You can borrow Moo if you’re ever sad again.” A shaky laugh blew across her cheek before he let her go with a quiet thanks and Hinano ran back to her Bunny, taking his hand in hers.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Bunny said, giving her hand a squeeze as they walked towards the train station. “We’ve got rice to wash and veggies to chop. Think you can help me get everything ready before Sungie’s back?”

Hinano smiled brightly, puffing out her chest proudly. “I’m a chef now! I can help lots!”

“I know you can,” Bunny chuckled at her.

🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹

The apartment door clicked softly behind him, but the laughter that drifted from the kitchen covered the sound. Jisung paused in the entryway toeing off his shoes and struggling to shrug out of his heavy winter coat as he leaned around the corner.

Minho was at the stove, humming as he stirred, while Hinano perched on a stool beside him with a serious little frown, carefully using scissors to cut green onions in large chunks under his watchful eye. Both were laughing over some private joke, warmth spilling out of them in waves.

It hit Jisung square in the chest—that fierce, quiet joy of coming home to this. To them. To the family that Minho so rightfully deserved.

He allowed himself to watch for a moment longer before stepping into their line of sight. Minho’s head lifted, eyes lighting up immediately, but it was Hinano who squeaked in delight, abandoning her duty to run straight into his arms.

“Sungie!” she cried joyfully, wrapping her arms around his waist.

Jisung bent low, scooping her up with ease, burying his nose in her hair. “Hey little flower, smells good in here.”

Minho smirked from the stove as he went over and gave him a quick kiss, peering into the pot on the stove. “Kimchi Jjigae? Nice.”

“Yeah!” Hinano smiled at him from her perch on his hip, “It’s my favorite when it’s cold!”

“It’s nearly finished. How about you two go set the table?”

The meal was warm and the conversation lively, Hinano chattering about cupcakes and “Minnie-samchon” with her mouth half-full until Minho gently reminded her to slow down.

Jisung’s spoon paused at the sound of the packs only other Beta. “Samchon was sad?” he asked softly, eyes sliding to Minho.

Hinano nodded seriously, “But I let him borrow Moo and then he smiled.”

Jisung blinked, then turned to Minho for answers. His mate’s expression was calm but shadowed, the way it got when he was holding back more than he was saying.

After Hinano was distracted with a second serving of jjigae, Minho reached for his phone and slid it across the table to him. On the screen was a tabloid article—glossy headlines, cheap ink all lies.

Jisung skimmed it, jaw tightening. “This—” he exhaled sharply, putting the phone down with a sigh. “He believed this?”

Minho nodded once, switching to Korean to keep this ugliness from Hinano. She’d probably end up understanding a bit of what they were going to talk about but not all of it. “Enough to think it was proof. Proof that he’s…not enough. That he doesn’t deserve Jeongin because he isn’t an Omega.”

Jisung’s chest ached, sharp and raw. Because he knew. He knew that feeling—that quiet little poison thought he’d wrestled with a thousand times himself. That if he were an Alpha instead of a Beta, Minho wouldn’t have struggled with conceiving as much as he did. But hearing Seungmin folded under the same feeling hit differently. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly before opening them again.

“What are we going to do?” he asked voice low.

Minho didn’t hesitate in his answer. “We’re taking him to Osaka.”

Jisung blinked. “Osaka?”

“It’s where Innie is at working right now. So we’re going and we’ll make a trip out of it for Christmas.” Minho explained, “With the whole pack. So he can see with his own eyes that he’s wrong. That he doesn’t need to be anything other than who he is in order to be loved.”

The words struck deep, because Minho wasn’t just talking about Seungmin. His gaze locked with Jisung’s, steady and fierce.

 Jisung swallowed, throat tight. “You think it’ll work?”

Minho’s hand found his across the table, warm and unshakable. “I know it will. I know that the only thing that ever cut through that noise for you was me.” He gave Jisung’s hand a squeeze. “So yes. I think showing him is exactly what he needs.”

Jisung let out a shaky laugh, though his chest was burning with emotion he couldn’t let out. “You always know the right thing to do.”

“Not always,” Minho murmured, smiling softly. “But I do know this. I would never change who you are. Not for an easier life, not for anything. Maybe it was meant to be like this.” He switched back to Japanese, “So we could love this little girl.”

Hinano looked up, blinking curiously at them and Minho brushed her cheek with his thumb. “If you’re finished take your bowl to the sink and go get ready for bath time, mmm?” Hinano nodded with a smile and did as told.

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

Minho had let Jisung start bath time with Hinano while he cleaned up from dinner. The bathroom was already full of steam by the time Minho walked in. Hinano was in the tub, grinning with bubbles piled high on her head. Jisung on his knees beside the tub, hands dripping with suds, growling in his best monster voice.

“The shampoo monster is here for all your bubbles!” he roared, tickling her neck until she shrieked with laughter. Even though Hinano was now more comfortable with them they still took care to never touch her below the shoulders during this time as to not have her progress regress.

Minho leaned against the doorway for a moment, chest tightening with something fierce and tender. He’d said it at the table but seeing them here—Jisung making Hinano laugh so hard she nearly toppled over—it only drove the truth deeper.

This was meant to be.

“Careful,” Minho teased as he stepped in, grabbing the rinsing cup from the edge of the tub. “If she gets bubbles in her eyes, you’ll be the one crying later.”

Jisung pouted, exaggerated, and Hinano giggled harder. Minho crouched to pour warm water carefully over her hair, washing away the foam. She leaned into the touch now, no longer stiff and afraid as she had been those first few nights. Trust and safety and love. That’s what she had now.

And it was everything.

By the time she was dried, pajama clad and tucked under her blankets with Moo tucked safely under her arm, her eyes were already fluttering shut. Minho kissed her forehead, whispered a soft “goodnight flower”, and turned off every light except the one that Jung-seok had donated that splayed stars across the ceiling, pulling the door closed behind him.

In his own bedroom, Jisung was sitting on the edge of the bed, head bowed, studying his hands in his lap; looking up as Minho stepped closer. There was something raw in his eyes. The conversation from dinner still lingered in his mind—the tabloid, Seungmin’s doubts, Jisung’s own unspoken reflection. He noticed, of course he did. Hated that his mate had ever felt like that.

Minho crossed the room in two strides, placed himself between his open legs and tilted his head up to look at him, hands sliding over his thick arms, steady and reverent. “Don’t ever think I’d want things different,” he said lowly, echoing his words from earlier. “Not you. Not us. Not our family.”

Jisung’s breath caught. His hands clutched at Minho’s shirt, but his eyes shone, wide and open.

Minho kissed him. Slow at first, worshipful, savoring. It deepened quickly, hunger slipping in, filthy in the way his tongue claimed, in the way his hands pressed Jisung’s body down onto the mattress allowing him to straddle his mate, reminding him exactly whose he was.

“Mine,” Minho growled against his mouth, biting at his plush lower lip. “My Beta. My mate.”

Jisung whimpered, tilting his head back, already yielding under the dual weight of worship and possession. Minho smiled against his skin, lips brushing over the claiming mark, nipping at it gently. He could feel Jisung’s cock jump in his cotton sleep pants underneath him, hot and eager, betraying the way his body gave in even as his mind still lingered in doubt. Minho ground his hips down slowly, deliberately, forcing another groan from Jisung’s throat.

“That’s it,” Minho whispered against his ear, letting his breath ghost over sensitive skin. “Let me feel how much you need me.”

Jisung arched up, his hands gripped at Minho’s back like he couldn’t get him close enough. Minho kissed him again, slower this time, tongues sliding past swollen lips, claiming and giving all at once. Every press of his mouth said you’re enough, every nip at his throat said you’re mine. He trailed down to Jisung’s chest, tugging his shirt up, kissing the warm expanse of honey gold skin as he went.

“You think I’d ever trade this?” Minho murmured between kisses, nipping at one hardened nipple, sucking it into his mouth making Jisung gasp before releasing it. “Never. You’re everything I ever wanted. Everything I need.”

Jisung whined, head falling back, hands clenching at the bedding around them. His hips bucked helplessly, cock straining against the thin fabric of his pants, needy and begging for more.

Minho smiled against his chest, filthy satisfaction curling low in his belly. He slid his hand into the waistband of Jisung’s sleep pants down until he could feel his mate’s cock, hot and heavy in his hand.

“Always so ready for me,” Minho growled, stroking him slow, reverently .

Jisung choked on a moan, jerking into Minho’s fist. “Jagi…”

“Shh,” Minho soothed, kissing him again as he stroked faster, thumb smearing precum. “I’ll take care of you. Always.” He pushed Jisung’s own pants further down enough to free him completely, sliding down the bed so he could take Jisung’s cock into his mouth in one smooth, practiced motion. The cry that tore for the brunet’s mouth made his cunt release a wave of sweet smelling slick in his own pants. He hollowed his cheeks, tongue tracing the underside, swallowing around the head until Jisung was writhing beneath him.

“Fuck—Min, I…”

Minho pulled off with a wet pop, licking his lips. He stripped himself of his own ruined pants, climbing back up, straddling his lean waist again, aching wet, ready to be filled.

“Fuck me, jagi. Now.” Jisung groaned at his words, dragging his hands down Minho’s thighs, positioning him. Minho reached down and guided him in, sinking down onto Jisung’s cock inch by inch, head tilting back as the stretch burned in the best way.

“Oh, fuck…” Minho gasped, nails digging into Jisung’s fleshy pecs as he bottomed out, the fullness making his cunt clench hard around him

Jisung’s hands shook were they held his hips. “God, Min—you feel—”

“Perfect,” Minho panted, rocking against him, greedy now. “I’m perfect…just for you. Only for you.”

Jisung’s restraint shattered—he thrust up into him hard, making Minho cry out, back arching. Minho rode him, meeting every thrust, fucking down on him until the slap of their skin filled the room. His slick pooled around Jisung’s groin and thighs, messy and obscene.

“You see how wet you make me? How good you make me feel?” Minho groaned, stroking his own small cock quick and rough. “No Alpha could ever give me this. Only you. Only my Jisung.”

The way Jisung choked on his moans, the way his hands clutched Minho like he’d drown without him, told Minho he understood.

When Jisung’s rhythm stuttered, Minho ground down hard, squeezing around him, and came first with a strangled cry, spilling both from his cunt and his cock. Jisung followed seconds later, pulsing deep inside him, groaning Minho’s name like it was a prayer.

Minho collapsed onto his chest, both of them trembling. The room quiet except for the sound of their breathing. Minho stayed there, draped over Jisung’s chest, skin slick with sweat, heart still racing. Jisung’s hands stroked idly down his back, soothing, grounding. For a long while, they just breathed together.

Minho shifted just slightly, pressing a lazy kiss to Jisung’s throat. “We’ll need to gather everyone soon, tomorrow preferably,” he mumbled, voice still rough with emotion. “Talk about logistics. Travelling with a group of small children won’t make it easy.”

Jisung let out a strangled laugh. “Are you—” he tilted his head back, incredulous, “—are you seriously talking about planning a family trip with my cock still inside you?”

Minho smirked against his skin, entirely unbothered. “Multitasking.”

That earned him a low, playful growl. In one swift move, Jisung rolled them, pinning Minho to the mattress. “You are unbelievable,” he muttered, but his eyes were lit with heat again.

Minho only grinned up at him, smug, wicked. “What can I say? I’m efficient.”

Jisung cut off any further words with a kiss—hot, claiming, teeth catching on Minho’s swollen lips—Minho laughed into it, already curling his legs tighter around his mate’s waist.

The laughter blurred quickly into gasps as Jisung began to move again, no less intense than before in the way his hips pressed down and Minho’s last coherent thought before everything dissolved was that this was exactly the way it should be.

Chapter Text

🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹

The familiar beep-beep-beep—click of the front door keypad jolted Jisung from sleep.

He groaned into his pillow as a chorus of voices followed, shrieks of laughter, pattering feet, the occasional hushed scolding from a parent, the heavy thunk of something dropping on the floor, either a child or a bag who knew—hopefully, the latter— filled the house with life.

He cracked one eye open, just in time to see Minho flop an arm across his stomach, groaning in unison.

“We locked the door last night, right?” He asked even though he knew for a fact they did.

Minho chuckled, pressing a lazy kiss to his shoulder. “We did.”

“We should change the code.”

“They’d just figure it out.” His mate snorted out a laugh as he sat up stretching his limbs from not only sleep but their…activities from the night before. When Minho stood, letting the covers drop from his body and showing love bruises all over him from the night before he let out a low whistle of appreciation only to get pelted on the face with some form of clothing.

“Time to descend into the madness.”

By the time they tugged on sweats and a shirt and shuffled into the living room, chaos had fully bloomed— the good kind. Jin-Ae had declared the couch a fortress, with Hinano being the princess she was to protect. Jang-ho was trying to storm it, a plastic sword he got god only knew where waving in the air, Jung-seok was trying to sneak a muffin from the pastry box on the counter but having a hard time reaching it and Seungmin was leaning against said counter, arms full of a babbling Tae-yoon, doing a terrible job hiding his smile.

“Morning,” Minho greeted, sliding an arm around Jisung’s waist as if to steady him through the mayhem.

“Morning,” Changbin echoed, eyes narrowing faintly in amusement. “Sleep well?”

The smirk tugging at his mouth made Jisung’s ears burn. “Fine,” he muttered, brushing past him to grab his own cup of heavenly bean juice. Honestly he’d never understand how some people couldn’t like coffee. He couldn’t live without the stuff.

“Is that a hickey?”  Hyunjin stopped setting out the pastries brought from the bakery and propped his chin in his palm, a smirk on his face. “Scandalous.”

Felix giggled behind his mug. “Must’ve been a good night.”

Minho didn’t even flinch. He reached for a mug, poured himself a cup, and said shamelessly, “It was.”

Jisung nearly choked on air. “Jagi—” he groaned, heat flushing up his neck. Before he could fire back, Jang-ho cupped his hands and bellowed, “Jisung-samchon’s face is red!” The kids detonated into laughter.

Minho, unbothered, stole a pastry from the plate and clapped his hands once. “Since you all broke in at—” he checked the microwave clock “—8:06 a.m. We can talk about Christmas.”

“Chan said he has a last-minute thing to handle before we leave, but the rest of us can start planning. He’ll be here a little later.”  Felix supplied and Jisung hadn’t even realized Chan wasn’t there. That’s what happened when he couldn’t get his beauty sleep! He missed important details like that.

“I still think this might blow up in my face.” Jisung heard Seungmin mutter but his tone of voice was almost as if he were scared.

“Minnie, trust us. Please?” The young Beta just nodded at his words and focused back on Tae-yoon, making silly kissy faces.

Minho took the lead with the planning and Jisung was more than okay with that. If he was in charge of anything he might end up having an aneurysm. Planning a vacation for 6 adults, 5 toddlers and a 7-month-old would not be an easy task.

“First things first, jagi,” Jisung met his mates eyes over the rim of his coffee cup as he took a sip.

“Can you email Hinano’s caseworker and see if there’s any forms we need to fill out in order to take her out of the country? They gave me her passport but I’m sure we can’t just whisk her away without going through the proper channels.”  He nodded and pulled his phone out, opening his email to draft it. At the little girls name she ambled her way towards him, lifting her arms so he could pick her up and set her on his lap.

“Where are we going?” She asked, her bright voice tinkling with curiosity.

“We’re gonna go to Japan.”  Jin-ae announced happily.

Hinano stiffened in his lap, stuffed cow dropping from her hand as her breathing hitched up. “Please don’t take me back to mama…. I’ve been good…please….”  She begged and Jisung was mad at himself for not thinking about how going back there might seem to her.

Jisung’s arms tightened around her as he hugged her, Minho beside them in an instant, hand rubbing soothing circles on her small back.

“What’s wrong with Hinano, eomma?” He heard one of the twins ask along with Hyunjin hushing him gently, a choked sound leaving his throat. He was positive if he looked away from where Hinano sat shaking in his lap he’d see tears in the sensitive Omega’s eyes.

“Hinano,” Minho started struggling to keep his tone even and calm at seeing her in such distress, “Sweetheart look at me, we are never letting you go. Okay? You don’t ever have to worry about that.”

“We’re just going there for vacation, little flower.” Jisung murmured into her hair, placing a kiss there.

“Vacation?” She sniffled, as she finally looked up at them, eyes red but holding back the tears. “And I’m coming back home with you? You won’t leave me there?”

Jin-ae—ever the knight in shining armor— came up and grabbed the forgotten stuffed animal off the floor and pressed it into her hand. Looking at her with the most protective gaze, “I won’t let them. You belong here now, okay?”

Hinano sniffled again but nodded anyway. “Can I bring Moo?”

“Of course, Moo can come. We’ll make sure she has everything she needs, Flower.” Jisung stated, kissing the top of her head again because now he needed the grounding. It stayed silent for a few more beats before:

“I wanna sit next to Minho-imo.” Jung-seok said quietly, a faint blush coloring his chubby toddler cheeks. It brought the tension in the room down and he didn’t know if the young boy who clearly had a crush on his mate (no he wasn’t afraid of losing Minho to a 3 year old…well maybe a little) did it on purpose or not but he was grateful nonetheless.

“Yah! You don’t want to sit next to Appa? Who’s gonna hold my hand when I’m scared?” The loud Alpha made a whole dramatic show out clutching his chest like he was hurt.

Jang-ho, not to be out-shown by his twin, ran up to him taking Changbin’s big hand in his. “He didn’t mean it Appa! We’ll sit next to you!”

When everyone started teasing and laughing again, Jisung tapped Hinano’s leg offering some of his almond croissant when she looked up at him. She smiled softly and took a bite; fears pushed to the back burner for now.

Teasing faded into the soft hum of planning. Minho lifted his phone. “Flights first. Lix-ah, can you check group rates into KIX?”

Felix’s thumbs were already flying. “On it.”

“Hyunjin,” Minho continued, “apartment hotel near JR lines—kitchen, laundry, two bathrooms minimum.”

Hyunjin nodded, intense look on his face as he started to walk away to escort a wiggling Jung-seok to the bathroom.

“Seats?” Jisung asked while ticking people off on his fingers.

“Felix hyung, don’t worry about Yoonie here. He volunteered to keep me company. Didn’t you baby? Yes, you did.”  Jisung smiled watching his fellow Beta interact with Tae-yoon. He’d make a great father one day.

“Pound e bacaption lental.” Hyunjin mumbled around the phone balanced carefully in his mouth when he came out of the bathroom, straightening a strap on his son's overalls.

“Try again, love.” Changbin smirked at him only to receive a glare from his mate over the toddler’s head as he dislodged the phone from his mouth.

“Found a vacation rental in Namba that’ll work.  That’s if you guys don’t mind kicking it old school and sleeping communal style on futons.”

“Perfect.” Minho typed something into his phone. Probably making some sort of group chat/ checklist thing and marking off the things they had discussed before moving into the next item at hand.

“Luggage: one big case per family unit, one kids’ carry on light enough for them. No heroics.”

“Gifts?” Felix asked. “Do we bring or buy there?”

“Buy there,” Changbin said immediately. “Less to haul. Tokyo Banana for the flight back even if we’re not in Tokyo; I refuse to debate this on principle.”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes lovingly as he stood behind Changbin, arms around his neck and sloppy kiss smacked on his cheek.

“How would we ever forget Tokyo Banana?”

“Okay checklists—Hyunjin,clothes; Felix, snacks/meds; Binnie, activities.”

“It’s winter so that means warm long John’s for the boys, thermal leggings for the girls, coats, scarves, hats, gloves.” The tall Omega listed off as Minho typed.

“Snacks: seaweed crisps, rice crackers, yogurt melts,” Felix recited. “Meds: motion bands, kid acetaminophen, saline spray, lozenges—”

“Activities: sticker and coloring books, iPads, fidget cubes,” Changbin added, already listing things off, chancing a glance at his problem child “No slime.”

“But Appa!,” Jang-ho whined.

“No slime,” all five adults chorused, iron-clad, even Seungmin who was the victim of the rowdy twin’s last go round with Slime; they had to cut a small section of his hair when it wouldn’t come loose of the strands.

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

The checklist went out in the group chat, and the hum of voices slowly shifted from noisy debate into softer conversation. The kids had gotten restless from being corralled around the kitchen for so long; their laughter was already spilling back into the living room as they returned to the war fortress, leaving the adults a sliver of breathing room.

Not all of them, though. Hinano hadn’t moved from Jisung’s lap, small hands still clenched around her stuffed cow like someone might try to take it away. Minho’s gaze lingered on her, the faint shadow of worry still clouding her features even though she was nibbling distractedly at the corner of the pastry. He set his phone aside and reached for her.

“Come here, sweetheart.”

She came easily, letting herself be gathered up and tucked against his chest. She was feather-light in his arms, warm but tired from the eventful morning, cheek pressing into his shoulder as though she’d been waiting for someone to hold her just like this. Minho rubbed slow circles across her back, feeling the subtle way her little body eased. She believed them—for now, at least. That fragile trust was his to keep safe.

The front door clicked open, and familiar winter chill swept into the room from the hallway. Chan stepped in, rubbing his hands together. “Sorry I’m late—that took longer than I thought it would. Didn’t miss too much, did I?”

“Just my sanity, might have seen it fly out the door when you opened it,” Jisung muttered into his coffee, though his mouth curved faintly.

“Flights and housing are done,” Minho said, adjusting Hinano when she sagged heavier against him. “Felix even scored us group rates.”

Chan leaned down to check on Tae-yoon, who was now in his carrier after Seungmin had reluctantly put him down for a nap, before pressing a quick kiss to Felix’s temple. “I was thinking; if we pool miles—between all of us, there’s probably enough for an upgrade, maybe cut the costs even more.”

Felix’s brows jumped, thumbs already flying over his own screen. “Ohhh, babe, you’re brilliant, give me two minutes.”

“Two minutes? Surely that’s not all it took to make two children.” Seungmin smirked slyly.

“There are little ears present!” Minho covered Hinano’s ear that wasn’t pressed against him with a hand while Chan reached over to swat at the young Beta.

“Oh, please! With you guys as parents I’m sure they’ve heard exactly how they came about at some point.” Seungmin even went so far as to pointedly glance at the marks adorning Minho not covered by clothing.

Hyunjin gasped clutching at his neck as if he were appalled but the slight curve of his mouth told Minho differently while Felix just rolled his eyes and Changbin let out a loud laugh.

“Anyway,” he steered the conversation back to vacation planning, “Lix-ah, anything?”

“Preferably in a cabin with plenty of space in the seats. My deltoids don’t fit in economy.” Changbin flexed, rolling his shoulders with a groan. Hyunjin made an appreciative sound and massaged his husbands' arms which in turn made him flex some more.

“Alright you two…” Chan laughed shaking his head in feigned annoyance while Felix let out a triumphant noise.

“Got it! With everyone’s miles, we can bump the outbound flight to business.”

Changbin clasped both hands dramatically in front of his chest. “Felix, I will name my firstborn after you.”

“You already have two firstborns, genius.” Seungmin pointed out flatly.

“Then the next one,” Hyunjin winked causing Changbin to choke on the sip of coffee he had taken, drawing laughter from around the table.

The noise carried into the living room where Jin-Ae had flopped on the couch with the remote. She looked at Hinano still curled against Minho’s chest and patted the space beside her. “Hina, come lay with me? Moo can watch too.”

Hinano hesitated for a beat, then nodded. Minho kissed the top of her hair before setting her down gently. Watching as she climbed up beside Jin-Ae, immediately pulled under the younger girl’s arm like it was the safest place in the world. The television flickered on, theme music spilling through the room, and within minutes the fortress war had dissolved into a pile of kids sprawled on the couch watching cartoons.

“Perfect,” Chan murmured, lowering his voice so as not to disturb the peace. “Now we can actually finish a thought.”

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

“Hina, come lay with me? Moo can watch too.”

Her feet felt heavy when Bunny put her down, but Jin-Ae’s voice tugged her forward.

The couch looked huge. The cushions were all squished from their fortress battles. But Jin-Ae’s hand pat-patted on the spot beside her. Hinano hugged Moo tight and padded across the rug. She climbed up careful not pinch anyone else fingers or toes.

Jin-Ae pulled her close right away, their shoulders bumping. Like it was supposed to be that way. Jin-Ae always seemed to know what she needed.

Hinano tucked Moo under her chin and chewed the ear. She wanted to stay with Bunny and Sungie. They were nice. They made sure she was clean. They never forgot food. They wouldn’t do that if they didn’t like her… would they?

“Why’re you so quiet?” Jin-Ae asked suddenly. Her hand found Hinano’s, small and warm.

“I’m not,” Hinano mumbled.

“You are,” Jang-ho said. His eyes were big and honest. “You didn’t laugh when Allmineping stole all the cookies.”

Hinano’s chest pinched. She chewed Moo’s ear harder.

Jung-seok leaned close, “What’s wrong? Did we make you sad?”

Her lip shook. She wanted to hide. But the words slipped out. Small and shaky. “What if… what if they take me back? To Mama? I don’t want to. I tried so hard to be good…”

The cartoon kept going, but the kids went still. Even the twins didn’t say anything.

Then Jin-Ae scooted closer until no space was left. “Hina, listen. Nobody’s taking you. You belong here now. Minho-imo said so. He always keeps his word.” Her voice was soft but sure, like she was reading rules from a book.

“Yeah!” Jang-ho puffed his chest. “If anybody tries, I’ll whack 'em with my sword. Pow! Right in the leg!” He swung at the air, almost falling over.

Hinano blinked. A giggle almost slipped out.

“I’ll help,” Jung-seok blurted. “I’ll… I’ll throw muffins at them!”

“That’s not scary,” Jin-Ae said, rolling her eyes.

“It is if they’re hot muffins,” Jung-seok said, loud and serious.

A giggle escaped Hinano for real.

“And anyway,” Jin-Ae said, arm tightening around her shoulders, “you’re my person now. Moo too. So you’re staying. No matter what.”

Hinano hugged Moo so tight her knuckles hurt. “Okay,” she whispered.

Then Jang-ho’s stomach made a loud monster-growl. “I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry.” Jin-Ae stated like it was something everyone already knew.

He then flopped onto his back with a groan. Flopping his arms and legs up and down, “I’m hungryyyy!”

The whole house burst into laughter.

“Yep,” Seungmin’s voice rang out, dry as ever. “Definitely Changbin’s son.”

“Yah! What is that supposed to mean?!” Changbin squawked, loud enough to make Jin-Ae nearly fall off the couch laughing.

“Oh nothing…” Seungmin winked at Hinano like he was letting her in on some secret.

Even though she didn’t quite understand, Hinano hid a giggle behind Moo; the knot in her stomach felt looser than before.

“Lunch is ready!” Bunny’s voice called.

The twins ran fast to the table. Jin-Ae tugged her hand, and Hinano followed. The table was full — bowls of leftover spicy jjigae, steaming rice, shiny fruit, rolled eggs. She climbed into the seat by Bunny, setting Moo on her lap. The smell made her tummy rumble like Jang-ho’s. Jin-Ae snickered.

They were passing food when Hyunjin said, “Hey, what about Universal? That’s in Osaka, right?”

Hinano tilted her head. Universal?

“Oh yeah!” Jin-Ae bounced in her chair. “I went once before Tae-yoon was born. It was amazing—there’s a minion ride, and a world with that green dinosaur, and—oh, Hina, you’d love it!”

“Yeah!” Jung-seok shouted, rice stuck on his lip. “Do you like theme parks, Hina?”

Her spoon froze. “I… I don’t know. I never went.”

They all blinked at her.

“But…” Jang-ho frowned. “You lived there. In Japan. There’s Disney. There’s Universal. Didn’t you ever go?”

Hinano’s face burned. She curled around Moo. “Mama said… only good girls could go. I wasn’t good.”

The spoons stopped clinking. Even the twins went quiet. Jang-ho’s spoon was stuck halfway to his mouth.

Then Sungie spoke, voice strong. “Then that’s settled. We’re going. Because you are good, Flower. The best girl. And you deserve it.”

Lixie nodded, smile soft. “We’ll make it the best day.”

“Popcorn as big as your head,” Channie said with a wink.

“Cotton candy too,” Changbin added, waving his hands in the air to show her just how big.

The twins exploded, yelling about roller coasters and costumes. Jin-Ae squeezed Hinano’s hand under the table.

“Then it’s settled,” Bunny kissed her cheek, his smile warm, “In just a few days, Hinano’s going to her first —of many —theme parks.”

Hinano stared at her soup. Her heart thudded so loud she almost couldn’t hear the noise. Good. Best girl. Deserve. Words she never thought were hers.

When she peeked up, the table was alive again. Plans flying everywhere — Nintendo first, or the giant minion ride? Everyone was laughing, so bright it wrapped around her like a blanket.

She hugged Moo and let her smile grow.

She couldn’t wait for vacation!

Chapter Text

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

Something soft bounced against his ribs. Once, twice, then a third time with enough force to make him grunt.

“Bunny, wake up!”

Minho cracked one eye open. The room was still dark, the curtains only letting in the faintest glow of early morning. Beside him, Jisung was dead to the world, face mashed into the pillow, mouth no doubt open in a soft snore.

“Bunny, you’re not listening!” The voice squeaked, insistent, and the bouncing started again.

Minho rolled onto his side with a groan, blinking up at Hinano perched on the edge of the bed, Moo tucked firmly under her arm. Her hair was sticking up in every direction, pajamas rumpled, but her eyes sparkled bright and wide.

“And what are you doing up so early, Flower?” he asked, voice still gravelly with sleep.

She huffed, like it was the silliest question in the world. “Bunny, it’s vacation day, remember?!”

Minho let his mouth curve, just a little. He rubbed a hand over his face. “Vacation day? Are you sure? I thought it was just another Tuesday.”

Her gasp was so dramatic he almost laughed. “No! Bunny, you promised remember?!”

He smiled lightly, pretending to look doubtful. “Hmm. I don’t know… did you pack Moo’s toothbrush? Because only Moos with clean teeth are allowed on the airplane.”

Hinano scrambled to clutch Moo’s face, holding the cow up defensively. “Moo doesn’t even have teeth!”

That made Minho snort out a laugh loud enough to stir Jisung. His mate groaned, dragging the blanket over his head.

“Too early,” Jisung mumbled into the pillow.

Hinano wriggled closer on the bed, whispering accusingly, “Bunny forgot it’s vacation day.”

“Mm, sounds like him.” Jisung muttered, already half-asleep again.

Minho flicked the blanket over his hip. “Alright, both of you. Teeth brushed, clothes on. Sungie, that means you too.”

A muffled groan answered him.

Hinano giggled, bouncing to her feet and tugging on his arm. “Come on, Bunny! We have to get ready or we’ll be late!”

Minho sat up at last, catching her against his chest for a quick squeeze. Her excitement buzzed through her whole little body, contagious enough that the weight of sleep started to fall from his shoulders.

“Alright, Flower, alright” he said, pressing a kiss into her messy hair. “Vacation day. Let’s get moving.”

Hinano wriggled free from his arms the second her feet hit the floor, already darting toward the bathroom with Moo bobbing under her arm.

Minho dragged himself up, rubbing at his eyes. Beside him, Jisung groaned dramatically, burrowing deeper into the blankets.

“You too,” Minho said, tugging the blanket away.

Jisung peeked out with a squint. “Five more minutes.”

Minho arched a brow. “That’s what you said yesterday. When you were supposed to take the laundry out of the dryer.”

“…it still got folded,” Jisung muttered, reaching blindly for the blanket again.

“By me,” Minho reminded, catching his hand instead. “Come on, jagi. Teeth, clothes, coffee. In that order.”

“Switch the coffee and I’ll consider it.”

Minho rolled his eyes but tugged him upright anyway. “I thought Hinano was the child here.”

That finally pulled a laugh out of Jisung, sleepy but warm.

By the time Minho shuffled into the bathroom, Hinano was already on her stool, toothbrush clutched in one hand, Moo propped against the sink like a patient. She glanced up at him with toothpaste foam on her lip. “See? Moo’s teeth are shiny now.”

Minho bit back a smile, leaning down to wipe her mouth with a tissue. “Perfect. Now finish yours, Flower.”

Once she was done, he wrangled Jisung through the same routine with only a few half-hearted complaints. Clothes next — Hinano insisted on wearing the hoodie Jin-Ae had given her before leaving the other day, clutching Moo close as Minho tied the drawstrings into a bow then layered a heavier winter coat over it. Jisung managed to get halfway dressed before Minho had to march back into the bedroom with his jeans.

“Do you want me to carry you on the plane in your pajama pants?” Minho teased, tossing them into his lap.

Jisung yawned, tugging them on. “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing people saw at the airport.”

Minho snorted, gathering up the passports, boarding passes, and the small pouch with snacks and wet wipes. He double-checked everything twice then again, because he knew travel with three adults and one excitable toddler meant chaos no matter how much planning he did. And that was just their part of the family.

“Shoes, Flower,” he reminded, handing Hinano her sneakers.

She plopped onto the floor, tongue poking out in concentration as she wrestled with the laces. Minho crouched to help, his hand brushing her small fingers. “You’ve almost got it.”

Her face lit up when the knot held. “See? Bunny, I can do it myself.”

“Of course you can,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

The sound of zippers and thuds echoed as Jisung dragged their bags to the door. He looked more awake now, hair sticking up, hoodie crooked but eyes warm when they landed on Hinano.

“Alright,” Minho said, clapping his hands once. “Backpack, Moo, passports, snacks. Sungie—coffee at the airport, not before. Everyone ready?”

“Ready!” Hinano chirped, bouncing on her toes.

Jisung rubbed his eyes and grinned faintly. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

The ride was a blur of yawns, jingles from Hinano’s tablet, and Jisung muttering under his breath about traffic even though the sun was barely up. By the time the driver parked, Hinano was bouncing in her seat like she’d been mainlining sugar instead of the simple granola bar he had given her before heading out the door.

“Bunny, hurry! The plane will leave without us!” she squeaked, shoving Moo at him the second he unbuckled her.

“The plane isn’t going anywhere without you, Flower,” Minho said, hoisting her onto his hip before grabbing their carry-on with his other hand. “That’s why we’re early.”

“Too early,” Jisung muttered, dragging the suitcase. “It’s not natural to be awake this early.”

Minho smirked over Hinano’s head. “That’s why I packed extra ginseng jelly.”

The sliding doors whooshed open, and the familiar chaos of the airport swallowed them whole — rolling suitcases, boarding calls over the intercom, children crying somewhere in the distance. Hinano’s eyes went wide, her head swiveling like an owl.

“There they are!” Felix’s voice rang out, too warm and bright for how early it was.

Minho spotted them immediately: Chan with boarding passes clutched in one hand, Tae-yoon in the other, already fussing; Felix trying to wrangle Jin-Ae and keep her from wandering too far toward the display of travel pillows; Changbin crouched low with the twins, who were both insisting on pushing their own tiny backpacks across the tile; Hyunjin and Seungmin flanking like exhausted security guards.

“Hina!” Jin-Ae squealed the second she saw Minho, barreling forward and crashing into his legs just seconds before he set Hinano on her own feet. Hinano clutched Moo tighter, hesitating only a beat before Jin-Ae tugged her hand. The two girls fell into step side by side, Jin-Ae already chattering about “airport adventures.”

“Morning,” Chan greeted, voice pitched louder than usual over the din. His eyes crinkled when they landed on Hinano. “Excited?”

“She was up before sunrise,” Minho said dryly. “We’ve all been awake since.”

“Good practice,” Chan teased, jiggling Tae-yoon gently when the baby squawked. He shifted the diaper bag higher on his shoulder.

Felix leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to Chan’s cheek before turning to Hinano. “Ready for your first vacation, Hina?”

Hinano nodded solemnly, Moo squished under her chin. “Do planes have snacks?”

“They better,” Jisung muttered, making Felix laugh.

“Alright, family,” Hyunjin announced, clapping his hands once. “Let’s get through security before the twins decide the luggage belt is a ride.”

“Too late!” Jang-ho cried, bolting toward the line with his arms spread like an airplane. Jung-seok took off after him, shrieking.

“Yah!” Changbin barked, chasing them both with his carry-on dragging wildly behind him.

Jin-Ae rolled her eyes, grabbing Hinano’s hand like she was the most sensible one. “Boys,” she muttered, tugging her toward the line.

Minho shook his head, adjusting the strap of his bag. “And so it begins.”

They shuffled forward in fits and starts — unpacking electronics, shoving backpacks into bins, Seungmin soothing Tae-yoon with quiet hums when he was handed to the Beta, Hyunjin bribing the twins with fruit gummies to keep them still. Hinano clung to Moo through the whole process, eyes wide but steady as Minho guided her through.

By the time they regrouped on the other side of security, half the pack looked frazzled, the other half wired on adrenaline. But the laughter hadn’t stopped. It bubbled up in between complaints, smoothed over the stress, turned the chaos into something warm and familiar.

Minho adjusted Hinano’s backpack straps, checked the passports one more time, and let out a slow breath. It was going to be a long two hours.

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

The airplane was huge! Her and grandma came to Korea on something she had called a ferry so this was her first time flying. The planes nose pointed up like it wanted to kiss the sky. The people in shiny vests waved their arms, and Hinano thought they looked a little like they were dancing.

Her hand was tight in Bunny’s as they climbed the long tunnel into the plane. Moo was squished under her other arm, the stuffies ear already damp from chewing.

“Seats first,” Bunny murmured, pointing. “Over there, Flower.”

The row looked small compared to all the walking space, but Bunny lifted her up and plopped her into the seat by the window. The window was tiny and round, like a porthole. She pressed her nose to the glass. “We’re really gonna fly?”

“Really,” Bunny said, buckling her in and tucking Moo beside her.

Across the aisle, the twins were fighting over who got to put their bag under the seat. Jin-Ae was rolling her eyes so hard her whole head moved. Jisung just laughed, shaking his head, while Changbin muttered something about “mini wrestlers.”

“Flower, shoes off for now?” Bunny said softly, tugging at her laces. “Easier to get comfy.”

Hinano nodded, wiggling her toes in her socks. “What about Moo” she whispered seriously.

That made Bunny laugh. “Moo’s fine.”

The plane made a big thunk and the lights overhead blinked. Hinano grabbed Moo fast, heart thudding. “Bunny, what was that?”

“Just the door closing,” Bunny soothed, rubbing her shoulder. “That means it’s almost time.”

She peeked between the seats in front of her. Channie helped Jin-Ae get settled while Lixie stuffed snacks into the seat pocket. Seungmin sat in the row behind, already making funny faces at the baby as he gently bounced him on his knee.

“Look, Moo,” Hinano whispered into her cow’s ear. “Even the baby is going.”

A voice came on the loudspeaker, fast and grown-up, words Hinano couldn’t follow. The plane began to crawl, slow like a turtle, then faster. Her tummy flipped.

“Bunny, are we moving?”

“We are,” he said, squeezing her hand. “Hold tight.”

The roar came next — loud-loud, louder than vacuums, louder than thunderstorms. The whole plane shook, the window rattling beside her. Hinano squeaked, burying her face in Moo.

“I’m scared!” she blurted, voice muffled in fur.

Sungie leaned across Bunny, smile soft. “It’s just like a car, Flower. Only faster. You’ll see.”

“Not helping,” Bunny muttered, but he stroked her hair anyway.

Then the pressure pushed her back in her seat, tummy swooping like she’d swallowed bubbles. She gasped, peeking out. The ground dropped lower and lower until the cars looked like toys.

“We’re flying!” she squealed, bouncing in her seat as far as the belt would let her. “Bunny, look, we’re really flying!”

Bunny laughed quietly. “Told you.”

The clouds came soon after, soft and white like piles of cotton candy. Hinano pressed her face to the glass until it fogged, Moo tucked under her chin.

“Best. Day. Ever,” she whispered.

🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹

The captain’s voice crackled overhead, waking Jisung from the brisk nap he had taken. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve begun our descent into Osaka. Please make sure your seatbelts are fastened and tray tables—”

Jisung groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Already?”

Beside him, Minho shot him a look. “Yes. Already. Try to sound excited, jagi. First family vacation.”

“I’m excited,” Jisung muttered, fighting with the belt buckle. “I’m also stiff, half-deaf from the engine, and I think Jang-ho tried to kick a hole through the seat in front of him.”

“I was pretending it was a monster door!” Jang-ho announced proudly from across the aisle.

“Careful!” Jung-seok tattled instantly. “You almost woke the baby!”

Chan turned his head, finger to his lips, Tae-yoon snug in Seungmin’s arms now. The baby had finally fallen asleep, cheek squished against Seungmin’s sweater.

“Switch seats with me,” Jisung muttered to Minho. “I’ll take Hina, you can help Bin and Hyune referee the twins.”

“Nope,” Minho said, calm as ever, tightening Hinano’s buckle when she squirmed. “You drew the short straw, jagi.”

Hinano tugged his sleeve, whisper-soft. “Sungie, why are my ears funny?”

“Pressure,” Jisung explained, leaning close. “Chew this.” He fished a piece of gum from his pocket and held it out. “Chew-chew, pop. Works like magic.”

She accepted it solemnly, Moo tucked under her arm.

“Do I get gum?” Jang-ho piped up, eyes wide.

“No,” Changbin said instantly. “Last time you swallowed it whole and cried for 30 minutes.”

“That was an accident!”

“Not taking chances,” Changbin muttered, ruffling his son’s hair as the plane jolted.

“Tray tables up, backpacks away,” Hyunjin reminded, already folding his long limbs into order. He leaned across Changbin to tug Jung-seok’s seat upright. “There. Safe.”

The plane dipped lower, Osaka spreading wide beneath them — a patchwork of buildings, glittering highways, and rivers flashing silver in the sun.

“Look, Flower,” Minho murmured, tilting Hinano toward the window.

Her eyes went huge, fogging the glass with her breath.

Jisung smiled despite himself, the knot of irritation from the early morning wake up loosening in his chest. Okay. Maybe this part was worth it.

Landing was a chorus of squeaks and thuds, passengers mumbling amongst themselves, and the twins cheering like they’d just won a battle.

Then came the real war: getting everyone off the plane.

“Shoes back on,” Minho reminded, bending at the waist to help Hinano with her laces.

“Backpacks zipped,” Felix added, shouldering his own while balancing Jin-Ae’s strap.

“Don’t forget Moo,” Jisung said automatically, even though Hinano already had the cow clutched tight.

“Appa, I can’t carry my bag, it’s too heavy!” Jang-ho whined.

Changbin sighed, grabbing the tiny backpack with one hand and his son’s wrist with the other. “Whose idea was it to pack rocks?”

“They’re souvenirs!”

“From Korea?”

“Yes!”

By the time they funneled into the aisle, half the passengers looked relieved they weren’t sitting near them. Jisung plastered on his brightest smile and pretended not to notice.

Chan patted each child’s head counting, like he was trying to keep track of everyone even though there were other adults in their pack. Seungmin bounced Tae-yoon gently to keep him asleep, juggling his own carry on with his free hand. Hyunjin herding the twins down the aisle and making sure they didn’t leave their ‘souvenirs’ laying around for the flight attendants to have to clean up later.

“Stay in line,” he warned, catching Jang-ho mid-sprint. “No running.”

“But the floor’s lava!”

“Doesn’t matter.”

<><><><><><> 

The baggage carousel squeaked and groaned as another wave of suitcases slid down the chute. Jisung leaned an elbow on the handle of their carry-on, scanning for their bright red tag.

“Appa, is that ours?” Jang-ho pointed at a giant silver case three times the size of his body.

“No,” Changbin said flatly, not even looking.

“It could be!”

“It’s not.”

Jisung hid a smile behind his hand.

“There!” Minho called, pointing as their suitcase thudded onto the belt. He grabbed it before the twins could try to climb on—Jisung knew they probably would— dragging it to their pile.

One by one, the bags stacked up until it looked like they were moving countries, not taking a weeklong trip. Hinano clutched Moo in both arms, eyes wide as she tracked each one.

“See, Flower?” Jisung bent low to her. “All our things made it too.”

“Even Moo’s clothes?” she whispered.

“Especially Moo’s clothes,” he promised.

It took three adults to shove the luggage carts through the crowd and another five minutes to wrestle everything into the two waiting vans outside. Car seats clicked, booster cushions adjusted, strollers folded. By the end, Jisung’s arms ached and he was convinced they’d left someone behind.

“Roll call!” Chan barked, already sounding like a general. “Jin-Ae?”

“Here!”

“Twins?”

“Here!” “Here!”

“Hinano?”

“Here!” she squeaked, waving Moo high like a flag.

“Baby?” Chan glanced down. Tae-yoon snored softly against Felix’s chest.

“Guess that’s everyone,” Hyunjin said dryly, climbing into the second van.

“Everyone important.” Seungmin mutter, avoiding a hand coming towards his head as he jumped into the passenger seat of the van.

Jisung wedged himself into the backseat of the first one, Hinano pressed warm against his side, her little legs swinging. She hummed to Moo as the vans pulled away, the city blurring by in tall buildings and noise.

By the time they rattled to a stop in Namba, Jisung’s back had stiffened and his legs tingled from lack of blood flow. He clambered out, blinking up at the narrow building Hyunjin was pointing to.

“See? Perfect,” Hyunjin said, smug as ever. “Station’s close. Food’s everywhere. Enough room for all of us.”

“Perfect?” Changbin repeated, glaring at the staircase leading up. “You didn’t mention there would be 40,000 stairs.”

“Builds character.” Hyunjin patted him as Changbin hefted a suitcase like it weighed nothing and started up. Jisung laughed because the Omega just loved to torture his mate and it was always entertaining.

The entryway smelled faintly of tatami and fresh detergent. Shoes piled up in a heap immediately. The twins tore off to explore, Jin-Ae tugging Hinano with her, their voices echoing down the hall. Moo dangled by one ear but Hinano didn’t let go.

“Careful with the doors!” Minho called after them.

A loud thump answered him.

“Too late,” Jisung muttered, hiding his laugh.

The futons were stacked neatly in the main rooms, ready to be laid out. The kids squealed at the idea of sleeping all together, bouncing on the folded piles until Chan clapped his hands for order. Felix leaned against the wall, hair mussed, laughing breathlessly.

“We made it,” he said.

“Barely,” Jisung echoed, dropping into a crouch to help Hinano tug off her coat. She beamed up at him, cheeks pink from running with Jin-Ae. Moo landed safely in her lap as she plopped onto a cushion.

And somehow — with luggage half-unpacked, the twins already fighting over blankets, and Jin-Ae planning where she and Hinano would “camp” — it did feel perfect.

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

Bags were everywhere, shoes in a pile, and everyone talking at once when Channie clapped his hands. “Alright. Before anyone starves, konbini run. Minho, Seungmin—come with me. Lix, Changbin, Hyunjin, can you keep unpacking?”

Binnie groaned but waved him off. “Fine. Just bring back something packed with protein. I can already feel my muscles withering away.”

Hinano perked up when Bunny crouched in front of her. “You want to come, Flower?”

She nodded fast. “Yes! Moo too.”

“Moo too.” Bunny zipped her hoodie and tugged the hood over her messy hair. “Shoes, mittens.”

She hugged Moo tight.

Outside was cold. Colder than she remembered. The air bit her nose and her breath puffed out white. Snow crunched under her sneakers like sugar sprinkles. She shoved her hand deeper in Bunny’s glove hand.

“Cold, huh?” Channie laughed, his voice making clouds in the air. 

Hinano looked around. Cars. Shops. People walking fast. The same. But—different too. She squinted at the signs.

“There,” she said proudly, pointing. “Fam-ri Mar-to. FamilyMart.”

Jin-Ae’s eyes went big. “You can read it? Really?”

Hinano nodded fast. “Of course.” She puffed her chest. “Want me to show you?”

“Yes!” Jin-Ae hopped like she couldn’t wait.

Minnie-samchon tried to hide his small smile with his scarf but she saw it anyway. “Show off.”

The doors slid open with a whoosh. Warm air rushed out, bringing bread and coffee smell. Inside was bright-bright. Shelves stacked high. Drinks in colors. Onigiri lined up in rows.

“Whoa…” Jin-Ae whispered. “Better than home.”

Hinano giggled. “It’s the same.”

“Still better,” Jin-Ae said, tugging her hand. “Show me, Hina!”

Hinano dragged her to the shelf. She pointed fast. “This one is tuna mayo. This one salmon. This one pickled plum.” She tapped the kanji with her finger. “But I don’t like that one because…well it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“You’re amazing,” Jin-Ae whispered, eyes wide.

Bunny leaned close. “Which one do you want, Flower?”

Hinano clutched Moo tighter. “Tuna please.” She grabbed it quick before anyone else could.

They went down the aisles. Strawberry milk, sandwiches, melon pan. She read out loud just because she could. Seungmin snuck sweets into the basket. Bunny muttered “too much sugar” but didn’t take them out.

At the counter, the clerk talked fast. Hinano answered fast too. Her words spilled easy. The woman laughed and gave her the bag.

Channie-samchon winked down at her, “Knew we brought the right person.”

Outside again, snowflakes were falling on everything around them and she looked up to try and catch them on her tongue. That’s when she smelled it.

Bunny ruffled her hair. “You okay,Flower?”

Hinano shook the thoughts from her head at hearing Bunny’s voice.

It wouldn’t be that weird, the Ginko leaves would have just fallen from the cold, and the plum could just be from the foods (like the onigiri) all around them. “I’m okay Bunny!” She smiled up at him.

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

The apartment had gone soft and quiet after lunch. The kids were finally down, bundled on futons, little snores humming behind the sliding door. Even the twins, who swore they weren’t tired, had crashed in a heap beside Jin-Ae and Hinano, Moo squished between them like a guard.

Minho lingered for a moment, taking in the sight, then slid the door closed gently. Peace, for however long it lasted.

That was an hour ago and now Chan scrolled through his phone at the table showing Jisung some new beats he was working on, Felix was wiping up crumbs, and Hyunjin stretched on the couch with his feet in Changbin’s lap getting them rubbed like the prince he claimed him to be.

“So,” Chan asked, voice low but carrying, “what’s the plan for the rest of today? Something simple—walk the neighborhood, dinner close by? Big outings can wait until tomorrow.”

Felix nodded. “Lights in Dotonbori maybe. Kids will love it. Then Universal Thursday.”

“Speaking of Thursday…” Hyunjin smirked, waving his phone in the air. “Talked to a stylist I know on Jeongin’s set. He’s got the afternoon free.”

Seungmin froze, hand hovering over his teacup.

Hyunjin sat up, grin softening. “Relax. I’m not throwing you into anything. Just… thought you should know.”

Seungmin lowered his hand slowly. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Jisung asked.

A pause. Then, quiet, almost broken: “Because you all saw the headlines. Jeongin and that Omega actor—Tanaka Kenji. Out together, splashed everywhere. We’re in Japan now. It feels louder here, like it’s following us. Everyone thinks it’s true.” His jaw flexed. “And maybe they’re right. He’s an Alpha. I’m a Beta. That’s how it’s supposed to be. If an Omega shows interest—” He cut himself off, shoulders hunching.

“No,” Minho said firmly, shaking his head. “We’re not doing that. Not here, not ever.” He’d be damned if another Beta thought they didn’t deserve love.

Felix’s voice was gentler, but just as sure. “Seungmin-ah, Jeongin doesn’t care about what’s supposed to be.”

Jisung leaned back with a snort. “Tabloids say crap all the time. If every headline were true, Minho would’ve left me for a dozen different people by now.”

Minho shot him a flat look. “Ji.”

“What? Remember the tabloids after that day we did that award show? People were saying how beautiful you were and saying that if I weren’t a music producer you wouldn’t even be with, and I’m quoting here, ‘a simple plain looking beta’. It proves my point.”

Despite himself, Minho’s lips twitched.

Felix smiled faintly. “Exactly and if I’m not mistaken, which I rarely am, you told Jisung that was crazy talk because anyone could see they were meant to be together didn’t you Seungmin?

“It’s just noise. Nothing more.” Hyunjin tacked on with a hand on the fluffy haired Beta’s shoulder.

Seungmin stared at the table, fingers drumming restlessly. “It doesn’t feel like noise here. I saw the same picture with ten different headlines and that was just walking through the airport.”

Minho set his tea down, voice even. “He loves you. That doesn’t change just because he gets his picture taken.”

For a moment, Seungmin looked up, something raw flickering in his eyes—fear, yes, but hope too.

Then Changbin’s voice rang out from where he sat, dry as stone. “If you don’t meet him, I’m calling Jeongin myself and telling him where we’re staying.”

Laughter cracked through the room, breaking the tension. Even Seungmin huffed out something close to a smile. “You’re all insufferable.”

“Insufferable, but right,” Hyunjin said smugly. “So. Thursday. You’ll see him.”

Suddenly Tae-yoon cried out, giggles erupted followed by the soft pitter patter of feet as the four toddlers entered the room.

“I heard Appa yell; he woke the baby!” Jang-ho jumped on the offending man who caught him just before a foot caught him in a very undesirable place and Felix groaned sending a glare at the buff man as he made his way to Tae-yoon.

🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹

Felix disappeared into the next room, his voice soft and low, trying to soothe Tae-yoon’s cries. Changbin was left clutching Jang-ho under one arm like a football, glaring at Hyunjin as if this was all his fault.

“Don’t look at me,” Hyunjin said, smirking over the rim of his tea. “You’re the one who woke the baby.”

“I barely raised my voice!” Changbin protested.

“You’re loud even when you whisper.” Seungmin chimed in from where he sat on the floor

“Well, nap time’s officially over.” Jisung snorted, ducking his head to hide his grin. The twins had already started bickering again, Jin-Ae trying to play peacemaker, and Hinano clutched Moo close as she hovered by Minho’s side.

Chan clapped his hands, sharp enough to cut through the noise. “Alright. If they’re awake, we might as well get out. Otherwise this place will look like a typhoon hit it.”

“Dotonbori,” Hyunjin said lazily from the couch, stretching long legs. “Lights, food, shops. Tire them out before bedtime.”

“We need gifts anyway.” Felix added when he reemerged, Tae-yoon finally settled against his chest. His tone was lighter, but his glare at Changbin lingered.

The kids erupted into chatter, already bouncing in excitement. Jisung groaned, tugging his scarf tighter. “Well. At least if they’re running around outside, it won’t be the furniture they destroy.”

“I think I’ll just hang back here.” Jisung heard Seungmin say, “Take a shower before everyone gets back and there’s not enough hot water to go around.” That was actually a pretty good idea. Jisung wondered if he could get away with it as well.

Minho seemed to know what he was thinking and handed him Hinano’s mittens. He had noticed she was quiet, a little more tucked into herself than usual, but when Jisung leaned down and whispered, “You ready, Flower?” she gave a small, firm nod with a smile. She was probably still just tired.

And just like that, they were bundling up, shoes and scarves and coats flying, the chaos spilling right out onto the snowy Osaka streets.

<><><><><><> 

Snow fell soft and steady as they stepped onto the street, little puffs of white catching in the kids’ hoods. Their shoes crunched over it, their voices bouncing off the buildings in a chorus of questions and shrieks.

“Look, look!” Jin-Ae tugged at Felix’s sleeve, pointing at a glowing billboard of a cartoon squid. “Can we eat that?”

“Takoyaki, Treasure,” Felix said, pressing a kiss to her hair. “And yes. After shopping.”

The twins immediately started chanting tako-yaki, tako-yaki like a war cry, Changbin groaning as he tried to quiet them down before they started running into strangers.

Jisung shook his head, amused despite himself. “This is going to end with one of them face-first in the canal, I just know it.”

Minho’s elbow nudged his ribs. “Positive thinking, jagi.”

“Positive? Okay, I’m positive one of them’s going to fall in.”

Dotonbori unfolded bright and loud, even in daylight — giant signs of moving octopi and blinking lights, the air thick with grilled batter, soy, and smoke. Music blared from storefronts, shopkeepers called out cheerfully. It was chaos, the good kind, the kind that made your blood buzz.

The kids’ eyes went wide. Jin-Ae gasped at the giant Glico running man sign, Hinano clutched Moo close but didn’t look away once, and the twins tried to race each other to every stall at once.

“Alright,” Chan said, gathering them in. “Divide and conquer. Two hours. Meet back at the bridge so we can figure out what we’re doing for dinner.”

They broke off naturally: Changbin and Hyunjin wrangling the twins toward a toy shop, Felix and Chan letting Jin-Ae drag them toward a jewelry stall, and Minho tugging Jisung and Hinano along to a souvenir store stuffed with paper fans and trinkets.

The souvenir shop smelled faintly of cheap plastic and ink, shelves stacked high with paper fans, rows of beckoning cats, and trays of charms glittering under the lights. To Hinano, it might as well have been a treasure cave.

“Moo wants to see everything,” she whispered to Minho, hugging her cow tight.

“Then we’ll take our time,” Minho said, crouching with the little basket.

Her eyes went wide at a tray of keychains shaped like tiny bowls of ramen. She plucked one up with glee. “For Binnie-samchon,” she declared. “Because he’s always eating.”

Jisung snorted so loud he nearly scared a row of lucky cats into toppling. “Oh, that’s perfect. He’ll cry tears of happiness when he sees it.”

Hinano giggled, handing the charm for Minho to tuck into the basket.

At another rack, she found a replica of  Osaka Castle in a globe gleaming under snow. She held it high, serious as anything. “This one’s for Channie-samchon. Because Lixie-imo is pretty like a princess and Channie is his prince.”

Jisung had to slap a hand over his mouth to smother the laugh bursting out. Minho looked two seconds away from choking on his own breath.

“Oh, Flower,” Jisung wheezed, “you have to tell them that yourself.”

Hinano’s brow furrowed. “Why? It’s true.” She carefully set it in the basket when Minho held it down for her.

For Felix, she picked a round owl plush. “Because he goes ‘hoot!’ and makes Tae-yoon laugh.” For Hyunjin, a gold bell charm — “so he won’t lose his phone again.” For Jin-Ae, a red fan she fanned open with a snap, grinning.

She skipped ahead a step, eyes darting toward a rack of bright, jangly trinkets. Tiny plastic swords and shields dangled from strings, shiny enough to make any toddler lose their mind. Hinano gasped.

“These! For Jang-ho,” she said, snatching up the little sword charm. “He can fight dragons.”

“And Jung-seok?” Minho asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Hinano frowned in concentration, scanning carefully. Then her face lit. She plucked a keychain shaped like a bunny face.

“Why a rabbit?” His mate tilted his head while asking Hinano.

“Because you’re Bunny and he always blushes when he looks at you.”

Jisung laughed so hard his shoulders shook. “Flower, that’s brutal.”

“It’s true,” Hinano said primly, tucking both into the basket. This little girl of theirs was much more observant than he originally thought, not surprising given…well…

Then she stopped at a row of daruma dolls. Her hands gentled, and she picked a small pink one. “This is for Minnie-samchon,” she whispered.

“Why this one?” Minho asked softly.

“Because you make a wish when you paint the eyes,” Hinano explained, stroking its smooth head. “And Minnie-samchon looks like he has a wish he doesn’t say.”

The words landed heavier than she could’ve known. Minho’s mouth tightened, and Jisung reached to squeeze his hand before crouching to smile at her. “That’s perfect, Flower. He’ll love it.”

Piece by piece, the basket filled until it looked ready to spill over. Minho asked gently, “That everyone?”

Hinano hugged Moo tighter. “Not everyone. I didn’t get Innie-samchon something. But… I don’t really know him yet.” She looked up, wide-eyed. “What does he like?”

Her gaze flicked between them, uncertain and small.

Jisung crouched again, brushing a stray snowflake from her hood. “How about we pick something together? That way, when you meet him, you’ll already have something special.”

Her smile bloomed, bright and certain now. “Together,” she echoed, nodding firmly.

They ended up juggling bags of gifts and a small pack of postcards by the time they spilled back onto the street. Lights glowed brighter now, the snow thickening. While waiting for the rest of the pack to come for dinner.

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

The restaurant was so warm windows fogged from the cold outside. Inside it smelled like home — broth, fried chicken, and rice — smells she knew all her life. But tonight they felt different. Safer. Better. Even if she could still smell the familiar plum and Ginko that she couldn’t quite place but made her tummy tickle in a bad way.

She sat squeezed between Bunny and Sungie, Moo tucked under her arm. Plates filled the table — steaming bowls of ramen, crispy chicken, gyoza’s shiny from the oil that was on the grill.

Bunny nudged one towards her. “Careful, Flower, it’s hot.”

Hinano scarfed it down anyway, cheeks warm. Sungie grinned, blowing on his own bowl like it might bite him. “Does it taste good?”

She chewed, thinking. The filling was tasty and the dumpling was nice and crispy on one side just like it was supposed to be. She nodded finally, a small smile on her face, “Yes.”

The table buzzed with voices. Jin-Ae told them about a toy shop they saw, Hyunjin tried to get Tae-yoon to blow raspberries, the twins argued about who could eat more rice. Minnie had finally shown up apologizing for being late.

It was loud, but Hinano didn’t feel scared. Loud here felt like blankets wrapped around her.

Then Jang-ho suddenly shouted, “Now that Seungmin-samchon is here we should do presents!”

All the grown-ups groaned.

“It’s not Christmas yet,” Binnie-samchon said firmly.

“Not for two whole days,” Hyune-imo added, wagging a finger.

“But we have them already!” Jung-seok bounced on his seat. “Please?”

“Yeah, please?” Jin-Ae added, eyes wide and sugary sweet.

Hinano held her breath. She knew whenever Jin-Ae gave her parents that look she usually got what she wanted.

Sure enough, all the adults folded like paper.

“Fine,” Channie-samchon sighed, hand over his face. “But just one each.”

Cheers shook the table. Hinano’s chest pounded with excitement. She reached into her little bag, pulling out the treasures she had picked so carefully.

“Binnie-samchon first,” she said, holding out the ramen charm for him before turning to Bunny and pointing to the bowl in front of the broad Alpha. “See he does like noodles!”

The whole table exploded with laughter.

“Yah!” Binnie-samchon spluttered, face red as he clipped it proudly to his belt loop. “You little brat.” But he was smiling big.

Next, she held up the snowy castle globe. “This is for Channie-samchon. Because Lixie-imo is pretty like a princess, and you’re his prince.”

Lixie nearly dropped his chopsticks. “Princess?!” His ears turned pink.

Channie gave Lixie-imo a big wet kiss on the cheek then bowed his head ever so slightly towards her, “Hina, thank you, it’s perfect.”

One by one, she passed them out until she got to Seungmin-samchon. Then she pulled out the pink daruma. She slid it across the table to him.

“This one’s for you,” she whispered.

He blinked, picking it up carefully. “For me?”

She nodded. “It’s for good luck.”

The laughter hushed. Minnie-samchon stared at her like she’d said something big. Her chest pinched — had she done it wrong?

Then he smiled, soft and small. “Thank you, Hinano.”

Warmth rushed back into her chest. She beamed.

Then Jin-Ae held out a  little box across the table. Inside were two glittery star hair clips. Jin-Ae pulled her own from her hair. “See? Now we match.”

Hinano’s chest swelled as Jin-Ae clipped it gently into her hair.

The twins shoved something into her hands next — a pack of dinosaur stickers.

“For you!” Jang-ho shouted.

“You have to share!”

“No, she doesn’t,” Jung-seok argued, pushing at his twins arm. “They’re hers.”

Hinano laughed so hard Moo almost fell off her lap.

Then Channie-samchon slid a soft bundle her way. Inside was a pale blue scarf. She rubbed it against her cheek. “It’s so soft.”

“So you don’t catch a cold in this weather.” he said warmly.

Lixie smiled at her across the table. “We thought of you when we saw it.” Hinano blushed, she didn’t know what to do with all this. Never had this many presents given to her before.

Before she knew it the noise picked up again, dishes clinking, voices overlapping. She leaned back against Bunny’s side, Moo safe on her lap, happiness making her cheeks hurt.

“Oh look!” Jang-ho shouted suddenly, climbing onto Binnie-samchon’s lap and whispered something into his ear. Binnie sighed but helped Jang-ho hold out a phone. “A lady took our picture earlier!”

Hinano leaned over to see. It was the twins with their parents, grinning wide in the street. Snow fell blurry behind them. She smiled. It was a good picture.

Hinano hugged Moo tight, smiling too. Tonight was happy.

Chapter Text

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

The line stretched on and one. Maybe 1000 km! At least it felt that way to her as Hinano bounced on her toes, mittened hands clasped in Bunny’s, staring at the people in front of them.

Her chest felt funny without Moo. Moo was safe back at the house,Bunny promised, tucked on her pillow so she could “watch the door.” But it still felt strange not to have the stuffed animal under her arm.

“Almost our turn,” Bunny said, squeezing her hand.

“Almost?” she groaned. ”It’s already been forever!”

“It’s only been ten minutes,” Sungie laughed, rubbing his gloved hands together. “You’re just too excited.”

“I’m so excited,” she admitted, though her voice wobbled.

Jin-Ae bumped her shoulder, chin up, “Don’t worry. You don’t need Moo. You’ve got me.” She said as if she knew what actually worried her.

Hinano blinked.

“I’m your KiSA,” Jin-Ae explained proudly. “Knight in shining armor. Knights don’t let princesses get scared.”

That made Hinano smile, just a little.

Behind them, the twins were already arguing.

“I’m holding Appa’s hand!” Jang-ho shouted, clinging tight to one of Binnie-samchon’s big hands.

“No, me!” Jung-seok tugged the other.

Changbin groaned, stuck between them.

“Boys,” Hyune said it that way adults did when they were too tired to deal with things, rolling his eyes, “Appa has two hands. Problem solved.”

“I get this one,” Jang-ho said proudly, hugging tighter.

“Then I get that one!” Jung-seok clung stubbornly.

Felix just chuckled, rocking side to side with Tae-yoon bundled snug in the sling against his chest. The baby made a soft cooing noise, thumb in his mouth, while Lixie rubbed his tiny back.

Chan crouched in front of Jin-Ae, pointing out the ticket booth up ahead. “Almost time, Treasure. Think you can give the lady your ticket yourself?”

“Obviously, Appa!” she shouted, nearly bouncing out of her boots.

Everyone laughed, even some of the strangers in line.

Hinano leaned closer into Bunny, mittens squeezing his hand. “What if it’s too big? What if I get lost?”

“You won’t,” Bunny promised softly, brushing a snowflake from her hair. “We’ve got you, flower.”

“And if the rides get scary,” Sungie added, leaning down so his nose nearly touched hers, “we’ll sit with you. Me or Bunny. You’ll never be alone.”

The line moved and moved until the big gates were right there. They were so tall she had to tip her head all the way back to see the flags at the top. Music floated out — horns and drums and something bouncy. It made her toes wiggle in her boots.

Bunny gave the tickets and then… they were inside.

Hinano gasped. It was huge.

Balloons floated in the air, tied to carts. Lights twinkled like stars even though it wasn’t dark yet. The buildings looked like castles, all bright colors and windows. And down the street a giant yellow Minion waved like it was waving just to her.

Her mittened hands covered her mouth. “Whoa…”

“See?” Jin-Ae said, grabbing her hand tight. “I told you it’s real. It’s like a magical land!”

Hinano couldn’t talk. Her eyes were too busy. People hurried past carrying funny popcorn buckets, and somewhere bubbles floated up like magic.

“Which way first?” Channie-samchon asked, opening a big map.

“Minions!” Jin-Ae shouted.

“Mario!” Jang-ho yelled, swinging his sword keychain.

“Snacks first,” Jung-seok said, eyeing food displays that lined the windows in some of the shops.

Hyune-imo shook his head but Hinano could see the love in his eyes. “Honestly child, we ate breakfast before we left. How are you hungry already?”

Everybody laughed.

Hinano tugged Bunny’s sleeve. Her voice was tiny. “Not scary?”

Bunny bent down, “Not scary. Just fun. And we’ll be with you.”

Sungie leaned close too. “If you get nervous, you can hold both our hands."

Her tummy still flipped, but the scary part was already smaller. The music was louder, the lights brighter, and Bunny’s hand was warm.

Snowflakes swirled above the banners like confetti.

Her very first theme park.

She smiled so big it hurt her cheeks. “Okay,” she whispered. “Let’s go.”

They made their way to the Minion ride first since it was closest and Felix-imo said something about only being able to go to Nintendo world at a certain time.

The ride cars looked like giant yellow bananas. Hinano pressed both mittens to her mouth, eyes wide.

“Bananas!” Jang-ho yelled like he was in the movie. “I wanna sit in that one!”

“They’re all bananas,” Jung-seok pointed out, rolling his eyes.

“No, that banana,” Jang-ho insisted, hopping up and down.

Hinano clutched Bunny’s hand tight as the line moved forward. The music inside was silly, loud, bouncing in her chest. People in Minion goggles laughed as they passed by, and her tummy flipped. What if it went too fast? What if she didn’t like it?

“Row one,” the worker said, and Bunny guided her in. The seatbelt clicked across her lap, Bunny tugging it snug. He smiled down at her. “Ready, Flower?”

Her tummy flipped. “I think so.”

Behind them, Jin-Ae scrambled into the next row, Channie-samchon buckling her in and pulling the bar down. “Hands inside, Treasure,” he reminded, kissing the top of her hair.

“Row three, banana boy!” Changbin laughed as Jang-ho climbed in beside him.

“I’m not a banana!” Jang-ho shouted, waving his arms around until Binnie pushed them safely to his side.

“Row four!” Jung-seok hopped into a space made between Hyune-imo’s long legs, goggles slipping sideways over his eyes.

“You’re gonna poke your eye out,” Hyunjin muttered, straightening the goggles.

Sungie slid into the very back alone, making silly faces at everyone. “I bet I can scream the loudest.”

“No, me!” Jung-seok yelled.

“No, me!” Jang-ho echoed.

Hinano giggled, cheeks squishing under her mittens.

The lights dimmed. The Minions shouted something silly on the screen. And then—whoosh! The whole car shot forward.

Hinano squealed, gripping the handles so tight her arms shook. The world on the screen zoomed and spun, Minions flying everywhere, banana peels flipping, rockets blasting. Bunny laughed beside her, his hand brushing hers, warm and steady.

Behind them, Jin-Ae screamed and then laughed so hard it turned into hiccups. Jang-ho shouted, “Banana power!” at the top of his lungs. Jung-seok shrieked, “Help, Eommaaa!” even though Hyunjin was holding him tight. And Sungie — true to his word — screamed louder than everyone, so dramatic it made the whole car laugh.

By the time the ride slowed, Hinano’s tummy still flipped, but now it felt good, fizzy like soda bubbles. She bounced out of her seat, mittened hands clapping. “Again! Again!”

Bunny chuckled, lifting her onto the platform where she could see Lixie and Tae-yoon waiting for them just past the ropes. “Maybe later, Flower. Let’s try something else first.”

Her cheeks hurt from smiling, but she didn’t care. It wasn’t scary. It was fun.

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

The exit spilled them into the “It’s Fluffy!” store, bright walls stacked with Minion plushies, unicorns, and rows of silly goggles. The kids scattered instantly, squeals bouncing off the shelves.

Jang-ho and Jung-seok slapped goggles on their faces, bumping into each other like baby Minions. Jin-Ae darted toward the biggest unicorn plush, nearly toppling it over while Chan looked on with long-suffering patience.

Felix rocked Tae-yoon in the sling, one hand steady on the baby’s back, the other tugging a pacifier from the display. “Look, Minnie-sized,” he teased, holding it up to Hyunjin.

Hyunjin laughed. “I’m sure he’d love that.”

Minho scanned the chaos automatically, checking heads, counting hands. And that’s when he saw her.

Hinano stood still at a rack of headbands. Unicorn horns, Minion eyes, silly fluffy ears. Her mittens stayed tight at her sides, eyes lingering on one with a bright pink horn. She didn’t reach. Didn’t ask. Just stared like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed.

Minho crouched, soft. “See something you like, Flower?”

She bit her lip. “They’re pretty.”

“Pick one,” Jisung said from behind, voice warm.

Her eyes shot wide. “I can?”

“Of course,” Minho said, nodding. 

Carefully, like it might vanish, Hinano lifted the unicorn band and slipped it onto her head. The horn bobbed as she looked up at him, cheeks pink.

Felix’s smile softened immediately. “Perfect.” He said before turning towards where Chan was with Jin-Ae who was still half-buried under a unicorn plush. Telling their daughter to be careful while Chan sighed telling his younger mate that she was fine and stop worrying so much. Minho was sure the next look Felix threw his way meant that he’d be sleeping alone tonight.

Poor Chan should really know better.

Hinano giggled as they made their way to the counter to pay, holding the headband closer to her head for a moment to make sure it was in the perfect spot.

Minho’s chest eased. She’d been brave on the ride. But this? This was braver — letting herself want something, and believing she deserved to have it.

<><><><><><> 

By the time they spilled out of the third ride, Minho felt like his body would fall apart if he took one more step.

Who knew wrangling a group of toddlers around a theme park would be more brutal than practicing the same dance for six straight hours?

“Break time,” Chan declared, waving the map like a flag of surrender. “If we don’t sit down soon, I’m calling mutiny.”

“Mutiny!” Jung-seok repeated happily, even though he had no idea what it meant.

They found a bench near a popcorn stand, the smell of butter and caramel thick in the air. Felix settled beside Minho with Tae-yoon nursing under a blanket thrown across him. Across the way, Hyunjin stretched long legs out, letting Changbin collapse against his side, both twins sprawled in their laps.

Jisung slid onto the bench with a groan, tipping his head back. “I swear that spinning ride was invented by Satan.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Minho muttered, but the corner of his mouth tugged.

Hinano clambered onto the bench between him and Jisung, unicorn horn bobbing with every bounce. She hugged her mittened hands to her chest, cheeks still flushed pink from running. “It wasn’t scary, Bunny! Not even a little!”

“Not even a little?” Minho teased, brushing snowflakes from her bangs.

She shook her head furiously, giggling. “I was brave. Jin-Ae saw!”

From across the bench, Jin-Ae lifted her unicorn plush like a trophy. “She was the bravest of all of us.”

“Excuse me,” Jisung cut in, wounded. “Did no one notice my Oscar-worthy performance back there?”

“You screamed like a goat,” Hyunjin deadpanned.

The kids shrieked with laughter, Hinano nearly toppling off the bench.

Popcorn was passed around, the bench covered in mittens and crumbs. The twins were already jostling over who got the bucket with the Minion face, Jin-Ae fed tiny bites of caramel corn to her unicorn plush like it was alive, and Hinano bounced beside Jisung, horn headband slipping sideways.

“Okay, next ride?” Chan asked, scanning the map again. “Options: carousel, Spiderman, or the kiddie roller coaster.”

“Carousel!” Jung-seok shouted.

“Spiderman!” Jang-ho yelled louder.

“Spiderman’s too big for you,” Hyunjin muttered, tugging him into his lap before he could start a scene.

“Carousel,” Jin-Ae decided firmly, like it was law.

“Carousel it is.” Chan smirked, folding the map. “Unanimous.”

Hinano tugged at Jisung’s sleeve, eyes wide. “Can I sit on the horse with Sungie?”

“Of course you can,” Jisung said instantly, ruffling her hair. “We’ll ride the fanciest one.”

“Careful,” Minho warned, though his lips twitched. “She’ll hold you to that.”

Jisung smiled without hesitation, already scooping her up. Hinano squealed and wrapped her arms tight around his neck, unicorn horn bobbing as they disappeared into the crowd.

Minho stayed behind, dropping onto the bench again. Beside him, Felix shifted, adjusting the sling where Tae-yoon stirred. The baby sighed, then settled back against his chest, pacifier tucked in his mouth.

For a moment, the noise of the park dulled. Just the hum of music, the chatter of the crowd, the crunch of snow underfoot.

“She seems really happy,” Felix said quietly, gaze following Hinano as she clung to Jisung’s shoulders.

Minho’s lips curved before he could stop them. “She does, doesn’t she?”

Felix smiled, soft and sure. “You and Jisung made that happen.”

The words landed heavier than Minho expected. He looked down at his hands, flexing them once, then back at Hinano’s unicorn horn bouncing through the crowd.

“We just gave her the chance,” Minho said finally. “She’s the one doing the hard part.”

Felix’s hand smoothed over Tae-yoon’s back, gentle. “Maybe. But she wouldn’t be laughing like that without you.”

Minho didn’t answer right away, throat tight. Instead he leaned back, letting the noise wash over him. His shoulders ached, his feet were cold from the snow even through two layers of socks, and his voice was already raw. But Hinano’s horn bobbed as she laughed pointing excitedly at the carousel horse she chose to Jisung, and that alone made it all worthwhile.

She was laughing. She was safe. She was theirs.

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

The carousel horses were all painted shiny — gold and blue and red, with long hair that looked like it could fly. Lights blinked all around, little bulbs twinkling like stars.

Sungie lifted her up and set her on the tallest horse, the one with a purple saddle. “There. The fanciest one.”

“It is fancy,” she whispered, clinging to the pole with both mittens.

Bunny and Lixie-imo stood close, waving at her from the side. Tae-yoon was still asleep in Lixie’s sling, his tiny hat bobbing as Felix swayed.

“Hold on tight, Flower,” Bunny called.

She nodded hard. The music started — loud and tinkly, like a toy box opening — and the horse went up, then down, then up again. Her tummy fluttered, but not in the bad way.

“Woooahhh!” Sungie shouted, leaning back with his arms wide. “We’re flying!”

Hinano laughed so hard she almost fell sideways. “Don’t fall, Sungie!”

“I won’t! I’m super strong!” He flexed his arms so big she laughed even harder.

Jin-Ae rode a pink horse right behind them with Channie standing beside her holding on to her waist so she didn’t fall off, laughing like she didn’t have a care in the world.

The carousel spun faster, lights blurring, music jangling. Hinano’s cheeks hurt from smiling, her mittened hands clutching tight, the unicorn horn bouncing with every rise and fall.

When the carousel slowed and the music tinkled to an end, Hinano wished it could start all over again. Her horse dipped one last time, and then Bunny was there, lifting her down.

“You won the race, Flower,” he whispered against her hair.

She nodded, still giggling, cheeks warm.

The park lights flickered on as the sky turned darker, snow falling heavier now. Everywhere she looked, things sparkled. Shop windows glowed, balloons bobbed, people laughed with steaming cups in their hands. It felt like being inside one of the cartoons on TV — too bright, too happy to be real.

Her legs started to feel heavy, though, and her mittens dragged against Bunny’s sleeve as they walked. 

“Getting tired?” Sungie asked, crouching down.

“No,” she mumbled, even as her eyes drooped.

“Yes,” Bunny said with a quiet laugh.

Before she could argue, Sungie scooped her up, settling her on his hip. “There. Best seat in the house.”

Hinano’s head rested against his shoulder, the fabric of his coat scratchy but warm. She could still see the lights twinkling as they passed the big spinning globe at the front of the park, Jin-Ae waving her unicorn plush like a flag, the twins chasing each other in their mushroom hats from when they visited the Mario place.

Her eyes grew heavier and heavier.

Bunny’s hand brushed her back once. “Sleep, Flower. We’ve got you.”

Sungie’s voice rumbled low beneath her ear. “Yeah, we’ve always got you.”

The last thing she remembered before drifting off was the sound of both of them laughing, steady and soft, carrying her back to where they were staying.

🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹

The front door clicked open, snow dripping from boots and scarves as the whole pack funneled inside like a tidal wave.

“Shoes, shoes, shoes,” Minho muttered, herding the twins toward the rack before they could track slush everywhere.

Felix shuffled past with Tae-yoon still strapped to his chest, the baby finally stirring after a day of near-constant sleep. He was actually jealous of that right now, his own tiredness threatening to creep up.

Jin-Ae flopped onto the futon pile with her unicorn plush like a conquering hero, declaring, “Best day ever!” before promptly yawning wide enough to make everyone else yawn too.

Jisung adjusted Hinano on his hip. She was already halfway asleep, unicorn headband askew, her little breaths puffing warm against his neck. His arms ached, but he wasn’t about to put her down yet. She’d earned this sleep.

He was halfway to the tatami room when he froze.

Seungmin was there. Sitting cross-legged on a futon near the low table, his familiar calm presence soaking into the space. And leaning casually against the wall behind him — tall frame, sharp lines, unmistakable — was Jeongin.

“You’re here,” Jisung blurted, too surprised to filter.

Jeongin’s mouth curved, dimples popping, “Of course I’m here.”

Seungmin’s shoulders stiffened for the barest moment, then eased as Jeongin’s hand found his.

Jisung couldn’t help it; his brow arched. “Don’t you have some big fancy hotel your company’s paying for? Room service? Silk sheets?”

Jeongin shrugged, casual as anything. “Maybe. But I’m where my mate is.” His voice left no room for teasing — simple and sure.

The room went quiet for half a beat. Even Minho paused, one boot in his hand, before a small smile tugged at his mouth.

“Okay, that’s sweet and all,” Hyunjin drawled, tossing his scarf onto a hook, “but do you two realize we barely have enough futons for the people already here? You’re either doubling up or sleeping in the closet.”

Changbin groaned. “Babe, don’t give them ideas.”

A ripple of laughter cut through the exhaustion. Even Seungmin’s lips twitched faintly.

Jisung shifted Hinano higher on his shoulder. She stirred, blinking groggily at the new face. “Who’s that?” she whispered, pointing a mittened hand at Jeongin.

Jeongin came up to them instantly, soft dimpled smile breaking his sharp edges. “I’m Jeongin. Nice to meet you, Hinano. I’ve heard so much about you.”

She studied him for a long moment, then mumbled, “Okay, Innie.” before dropping her head back onto Jisung’s shoulder, asleep again within seconds.

The entire room melted.

“Guess you passed the test,” Felix murmured, kissing the top of Tae-yoon’s hair as he babbled incoherently in that way babies do.

The tatami room grew quieter by the minute. Socks and mittens had been tugged off, unicorn plushies and Minion goggles lined up neatly at the foot of futons. Changbin had wrangled the twins through a quick wash and into pajamas, Hyunjin humming as he blow dried their hair flat before tucking them under the blankets. Felix settled Tae-yoon into the portable crib in the corner, the baby sighing as he curled around a blanket.

Jisung smoothed the blanket up over Hinano’s shoulders, Moo tucked neatly under her chin. Her eyes were already drooping, lashes fluttering against flushed cheeks, but she tugged softly at his sleeve before he could rise.

“What is it, Flower?” he whispered.

She leaned close, voice barely a breath. “We forgot Innie-samchon’s present.”

Jisung’s grin curved slow. “Ah. Can’t go to sleep with unfinished business, huh?”

She shook her head firmly.

Minho, listening from across the futon, reached into his bag and produced the paper sack they’d kept tucked away. Jisung helped Hinano climb up, Moo still clutched tight, and led her out into the main room where the adults were gathering.

The chatter stilled as she walked straight to Jeongin, holding out the bag with both hands. “For you, Innie-samchon.”

Jeongin blinked, startled. “For me?”

Hinano nodded quickly, lip caught between her teeth. “I didn’t know what you like… so Bunny and Sungie helped. But I picked it.”

He pulled out the soft grey scarf with a little fox embroidered on one end, simple and warm. For a moment, he just stared at it — then at her, something tender breaking across his features.

“It’s perfect,” he said quietly, steady but thick around the edges. “Thank you, Hinano.”

Her cheeks pinked. “Now you’re not left out.”

Seungmin’s fingers tightened over his hand, eyes bright though he didn’t speak.

The air in the room shifted, softer somehow, wrapped in the warmth of a child’s certainty.

Minho crouched beside her, brushing her hair back. “Alright, Flower. Time for bed.”

Hinano giggled, scurried back across the tatami, and wriggled under her blanket. Moo tucked tight against her chest, she let her eyes fall shut at last.

By the time they eased the sliding door shut, the apartment felt hushed, almost fragile. The adults gathered around the low table in the main room, mugs of tea and convenience-store snacks spread across it. No screaming, no chasing, just the soft buzz of grown-up voices.

Hyunjin leaned back against the wall, arms folded, eyes drifting toward the window. “Hey. Weird thing.”

Changbin groaned. “It’s too late for your weird things.”

“I’m serious,” Hyunjin said, gaze still on the street outside. “That woman who took our picture earlier? I swear I saw her again. She was standing across the street when we came in. Looked like she walked off when we all piled inside.”

The table stilled.

“Maybe she lives in the neighborhood,” Chan offered lightly, though his fingers tapped his mug once, twice. “We’re not exactly invisible, showing up with eight people and five kids.”

Hyunjin shrugged, eyes narrowing faintly. “Yeah. Probably nothing. Just felt… off. And she smelled terrible. Like someone stepped on a ginko berry."

Minho reached for his tea, jaw tight. Jisung caught it — the flicker of unease he tried to mask. But then Felix yawned, Tae-yoon stirred, and the moment dissolved under the weight of exhaustion.

“Anyway,” Hyunjin muttered, brushing it off with a wave. “Not important.”

The thought stuck in the back of Jisung’s mind, stubborn and sharp.

Something felt off.

He reached for Minho’s hand under the table, grounding himself. One thing at a time.

 The talk drifted back to safer ground — tomorrow’s plans, snacks, whether the twins would sleep past six (they wouldn’t). But Jisung’s eyes kept flicking to Jeongin. The younger man was leaning against the wall, one hand loose in Seungmin’s, sharp jaw tilted toward the low light. Calm. But not untouched.

“So,” Jisung said finally, sipping his tea. “We’re just not gonna mention it?”

Jeongin’s brow arched. “Mention what?”

“The whole world thinks you’re dating that Omega actor, what’s-his-name,” Jisung drawled. “Tanaka Kenji? Fancy cheek-kisser? Looked like he was auditioning for a drama and forgot you weren’t in it.”

Seungmin’s head dropped into his free hand with a groan. “Jisung…”

“What?!” Jisung raised his hands. “Somebody had to bring it up. Otherwise it’s just floating around the room like a fart no one wants to claim.”

Felix  snorted into his tea. Hyunjin muttered, “Classy,” but his mouth twitched.

Jeongin’s expression softened, his eyes steady on Seungmin. “It wasn’t real. Just work. He crossed a line, and I made it clear.” His voice was calm, certain. “I have a mate. Who I adore.”

The quiet that followed wasn’t heavy — it was grounding. Even Jisung felt something in his chest loosen when Seungmin’s shoulders dropped a little, the tension he always carried easing just enough.

“See?” Jisung leaned back, smug. “Better out than in. Like Shrek says.”

“Han Jisung,” Minho muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“What? I’m right.”

This time, even Seungmin laughed — quiet, shaky, but real — before Jeongin leaned closer to murmur something low only he could hear making a blush cover his whole face.

The tension had barely settled when Chan let out a jaw-cracking yawn. He covered it with the back of his hand, but not before Jisung caught it.

“Oh no,” Jisung gasped in mock horror. “Somebody call an ambulance, Grandpa’s about to keel over.”

Chan squinted at him over the rim of his mug. “I’m not that old.”

“Hyung, you literally make creaking noises when you stand up,” Jisung shot back, grinning.

Minho snorted into his tea. “He’s not wrong.”

“Et tu, Minho?” Chan groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I expected betrayal from Sung, but not you.”

“Don’t look at me,” Changbin chimed in, puffing up. “You’re both old. I’m the spring chicken here.”

“You’re thirty-nine!” Jisung barked a laugh. “That’s not a spring chicken, that’s, like… a middle-aged rooster.”

Hyunjin nearly spit his tea. Felix buried his face in his hands, shoulders shaking with laughter.

“And what about me, then?” Minho asked mildly, brow lifted.

“Oh, you’re—” Jisung started, smirk sharp—

“And I want you to think really hard about what you’re about to say next if you want what happened the other night to ever happen again,” Minho cut him off before he could even start.

“—you’re… perfect,” he finished lamely, flashing a grin a little too wide.

That earned him a raised brow from Chan and a knowing smirk from Hyunjin. Minho just sipped his tea, satisfied.

“Anyway,” Chan cut in, stretching his legs out under the table with a groan, “old or not, I’m happy to see Jeongin here. But these bones need a futon before I fossilize.”

“Careful,” Hyunjin said wickedly. “If you turn to dust, Felix might add you to the snow globe Hinano got you.”

That broke the table into laughter, Felix rolling his eyes and swatting at his friend’s arm before he followed his mate.

Amid the noise, Jeongin squeezed Seungmin’s hand and murmured something low again. Seungmin’s ears went pink, but he nodded. They rose together, unobtrusive, slipping away toward the door.

The rest of them lingered only a little longer before standing, stretching, and shuffling off toward the futons where the kids were already fast asleep. The room quieted to the sound of soft breathing and shuffling blankets, the laughter from earlier still warm in the air.

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

They had been busy since the theme park fun. They rode a river boat, walked around the castle in kimonos and even ate some taiyaki—which was her favorite!

But today was supposed to be their last day. and Bunny had told her they were going to meet Jeongin and Minnie-samchon, who had been staying with the fox eyed man since the other night, for breakfast before they left. This made her happy because she didn’t really get to talk to Innie but also sad that they would be leaving.

It was okay though because Sungie told her they could come back again and that made her happy again.

The café buzzed with clinking dishes and chatter, but Hinano thought their table was the loudest of all. She kicked her legs happily under the table, feet brushing against Sungie’s knee as she tried to keep up with all the voices bouncing around.

The table was huge, full of steaming bowls and plates — rice, pancakes, eggs, soup, and even little fish that looked back at her with shiny eyes. She decided Moo wouldn’t like those, so she stuck to the miso and rice.

“Appa, that’s my pancake!” Jang-ho screeched, stabbing his fork at the tallest stack.

“Appa needs pancakes too!” Changbin-samchon laughed, holding the plate high over his head like a prize while Hyunjin rolled his eyes and slid another plate in front of the twins before the syrup war could start.

Beside her, Jin-Ae pinched the strawberry off the fruit plate and popped it into her mouth before anyone could steal it. “All mine,” she declared, chin high.

“Not fair!” Jung-seok pouted.

Hinano pressed her face into Moo to hide her giggles. It was always noisy with them — noisy but safe.

Then the doorbell above the café door jingled, and Jeongin-samchon came in with Minnie.

Hinano’s eyes went wide. Around his neck, soft and snug, was her scarf. The grey one with the little fox she had picked. He was really wearing it.

She squeezed Moo tight, whispering against her fluffy ear, “He kept it.”

Bunny must’ve heard, because he leaned down. “Of course he did, Flower. It’s special because it’s from you.” His hand brushed her hair, and warmth bloomed in her chest.

Jeongin spotted her then, his dimples showing as he smiled. He tapped the scarf and gave her a wink. No words, just like a secret promise between them. Hinano grinned so wide her cheeks hurt.

The table only got louder after that. Tae-yoon squealed when Lixie bounced him on his lap, rice nearly spilled when Hyune-imo snagged a bowl just before Jung-seok’s elbow knocked it over, and Channie-samchon muttered something about needing six more hands to keep the table under control.

“Seven!” She corrected, “Don’t forget Moo.”

Then she felt a long finger tap her hand and and Jeongin smiled. Teeth all shiny white as he leaned in.

“I heard you helped Minnie,” he said softly, like it was just for her. “Thank you, Hinano. You cheered him up when I couldn’t be here.”

Her fingers tightened on Moo’s ear. “I did?”

“You did,” Jeongin nodded. “That means a lot to me.”

Her heart squeezed, warm and proud. She ducked her head, but her smile wouldn’t stay hidden.

The meal carried on — pancakes stolen, juice nearly spilled, Tae-yoon squealing until Felix-imo gave him the chopsticks to gum on. Finally, Channie-samchon clapped his hands softly. “We should go if we don’t want to miss our flight.”

Everyone groaned, but coats and scarves were pulled on, mittens tugged tight. At the door, hugs were passed around. Hinano held Moo close, shuffling with the others — and then she stopped.

Her feet moved on their own. She let go of Bunny’s hand and darted forward, arms wrapping tight around Jeongin’s middle.

“Bye-bye, Innie-samchon,” she whispered into his sweater.

He froze for just a second, then bent down, arms curving around her carefully but sure. His voice was quiet, steady but thick at the edges. “Bye, Hinano. I’ll see you soon.”

She stepped back slipping her hand into Bunny’s as the pack spilled into the snowy street, voices tumbling and scarves flapping. The café door shut behind them, and Osaka already felt like a memory — but now she had one more person tucked safe in her heart.

Chapter Text

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

The lock clicked open, and the door swung wide to let in the three of them .The apartment smelled faintly of lavender detergent, the potted herbs on the balcony, and their unique mixture of barley tea in a spring rain shower and soft ginger scented sandalwood, grounding in a way the rental in Osaka never could be. Home.

Hinano darted past him the second her shoes were off, Moo bouncing against her chest. She ran straight for her room, voice carrying down the hall. “Moo missed the bed!”

Jisung snorted, dropping their duffel with a thud and scrubbing at his face. “Lucky bed. I missed my pillow so much I might cry.”

Minho allowed himself a smile as he stacked their smaller bags by the entry. For all the chaos of the trip — suitcases, rides, meltdowns, late-night futon shuffling — it had gone well. Better than well. Hinano had laughed, explored, even leaned into the pack without flinching. Every moment stitched her a little closer into their lives.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He expected spam, maybe a delivery notification. Instead, the name flashing on the screen made his chest go tight. Child Welfare Services.

Well, back to reality.

He thumbed the voicemail open, pressing the phone to his ear. Jisung, catching the shift in his face, fell quiet and scooted closer to hear.

The social worker’s voice filled the silence.

“Hello, this is Park Jiwoo from Child Welfare Services. I hope you all had a good holiday. I wanted to let you know we’re ready to move forward with the next step in Hinano’s case — beginning the adoption finalization process. At this stage, we’ll be preparing the paperwork for the court petition, and I’d like to schedule a time to meet with you to go over the details and answer any questions. Please call me back when you’re able, and we’ll find a time that works.”

The message ended with a soft click. Minho lowered the phone slowly, staring at it as if it might vanish from his hand.

Behind him, Hinano’s giggles drifted from her room. Jisung’s voice was soft, almost reverent. “Was that it?”

“Yeah,” Minho said quietly. But his throat was thick, the word catching.

Jisung bumped his shoulder, grinning crookedly even as his eyes shone. “Yeah,” he repeated Minho, “Paperwork, court dates, hearings—the works. The part where it sticks. Where no one can take her from us.”

Minho nodded once, slow. That was the hope. That was everything.

“Guess we better brush up on our good-dad outfits,” Jisung added. “Think they’ll let me wear something without crayon stains on it?”

Minho huffed a laugh, the tension in his chest loosening just a little.

From down the hall, Hinano’s voice floated out — something about Moo needing her own futon — and Jisung glanced that way with a grin before lowering his voice.

“We’ll call Park-nim tomorrow,” he said. “Right now, we just… let her be a kid.”

Minho’s gaze softened. He slid his phone into his pocket and let the sound of Hinano’s giggles steady him. “Yeah. Tomorrow.”

For tonight, they were home.

From down the hall came a burst of tired giggles—the kind you get after being so deliriously tired—, along with the squeak of bedsprings. Hinano had already claimed her room like she hadn’t been away at all. Minho followed the sound, leaning on the doorframe. She was sprawled across the blanket with Moo perched on her belly, looking perfectly ready to fall asleep right there in her travel clothes.

“Not so fast, Flower,” he said gently. “You still need to brush your teeth and change before bed.”

Her face fell into the smallest pout. “But I’m sleepy.”

“I know.” He smoothed a hand over her hair. “It’ll only take a minute. Moo can come too.”

Her nose wrinkled, but when her Sungie popped his head in and waggled his toothbrush like a microphone, she dissolved into giggles and scrambled up.

It didn’t take long — the three of them in the bathroom, Hinano perched on a stepstool while Jisung hummed nonsense to make her swish her rinse longer.

When she finished, Minho patted her cheeks dry with a towel.

“See? Easy,” he said, carrying her back toward her room and get into some pajamas. A bath could wait until morning he supposed.

She wriggled under her blanket, Moo tucked firmly under her chin. “Night, Bunny. Night, Sungie.”

“Goodnight, Flower,” Jisung murmured, bending to kiss her hair.

Minho tucked the blanket around her shoulders, smoothing it neat, then brushed a strand from her face. Her lashes fluttered as sleep claimed her, breaths slow and even. He eased back, careful not to disturb her—

And that’s when he heard it. Soft, half-muffled against Moo’s fur.

“I told you we’d come back, Moo. Just like Bunny and Sungie promised.”

Minho froze in the doorway, heart aching at the quiet, whisper. She still needed to remind herself she was safe. That she belonged.

He lingered there a moment longer, letting her words settle in his chest, before pulling the door shut with the gentlest click.

The living room was dim when he padded back, the only light coming from the kitchen lamp Jisung had left on. His mate was sprawled on the couch, hair mussed, one arm thrown dramatically over his face.

“Is she out?” Jisung asked, voice muffled but already knowing the answer.

“Yeah.” Minho dropped beside him, thighs pressed up against each other. “Completely gone.”

Jisung let out a groan. “Wish that were me.” He peeked one eye open, grin tugging at his mouth. “But then you’d miss how devastatingly handsome I am right now.”

Minho rolled his eyes, but he didn’t move away when Jisung’s head fell against his shoulder. Instead, he looped an arm around him, pulling him in. “Handsome or not, you look ready to pass out.”

“Mm. Travel with kids’ll do that to you.” Jisung sighed, nestling closer. “But it was worth it.”

Silence pressed in — not empty, but warm, filled with the hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of cars outside. Minho let it sit before murmuring, “She whispered to Moo. That she knew we’d come back… because we promised.”

That made Jisung’s grin soften, his teasing falling away. He tipped his head just enough to catch Minho’s eyes. “Then she’s starting to believe it. One promise at a time.”

Minho kissed the top of his hair, gentle. “Exactly.”

For a while, they stayed there like that — two men sunk into the couch, carrying the weight of love and exhaustion, the steady truth of home wrapping around them.

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

The light was soft when Hinano woke, sneaking through the blinds and drawing shiny squares on the wall. Moo’s fur tickled her chin as she hugged her tight, listening to the house. It was quiet, but not the lonely kind of quiet she used to hate. This quiet felt warm, like a hug.

Her toes padded across the hall, careful on the creaky board, until she peeked into the living room.

Bunny and Sungie were there. Not awake. Not even close. They were tangled up on the couch like a big sleepy knot, legs all over, hair messy, the blanket drooping to the floor. Sungie’s mouth hung open in the funniest way.

Hinano’s lips twitched. Grown-ups didn’t usually look silly, but Bunny and Sungie did. And they were hers.

She hugged Moo tighter and, before she could think too hard, climbed up onto the couch. Bunny made a low noise, half-asleep, and one arm shifted automatically around her middle. “Careful,” he mumbled, pulling her against his chest so she wouldn’t slide. His eyes never even opened.

Hinano went still, then relaxed into the warm space between them, Moo tucked safely under her chin. She felt like a puzzle piece clicking into place.

Then her tummy growled, loud enough to make her eyes widen. Uh-oh.

Sungie stirred first, blinking blearily before noticing her tucked against them. “Well, look who joined the nest,” he rasped, voice scratchy with sleep.

“Flower,” Bunny murmured, still half-buried in the cushion. “Hungry?”

Hinano hid her face in Moo, but she nodded anyway.

Sungie made a big show of groaning. “Guess that means we have to move.”

“Nooo,” Hinano giggled, clinging tighter.

“Mmhm,” Bunny hummed, finally cracking one eye open. He brushed her hair back with his big hand, slow and gentle. “Breakfast first, cuddles later.”

“Alright, alright.” Bunny stretched, slow and long like a cat, before finally nudging them all upright. He scooped Hinano into his arms as if she weighed nothing, blanket and all. “Come on, flower. Let’s feed you.”

The kitchen was bright with morning sun. Bunny set her in her chair while Sungie staggered to the coffee machine, mumbling something about survival. Hinano giggled again, resting Moo in her lap.

“What’s so funny?” Sungie squinted at her over the rim of his mug once the machine started to hum.

“You look like a zombie,” she said solemnly, then broke into a grin when Bunny laughed.

“Zombie, huh?” Sungie gasped, clutching his chest. “I’ll remember this betrayal when you want me to share my dessert later.”

Breakfast was rice, rolled eggs, and little pieces of fruit. Bunny placed the plate in front of her and crouched to tuck a napkin under her chin. “Eat up, flower. Big day today.”

Hinano tilted her head. “Big day?”

Bunny’s smile was gentle. “We’re going to see someone that’ll make sure you can stay with us forever. She just wants to talk to us, and there’ll be someone who’ll ask you a few questions too.”

Her chopsticks paused halfway to her mouth. “Like school?” Jin-ae told her teachers always asked a lot of questions.

“Kind of,” Sungie said, sliding into the seat beside her, already halfway through his eggs. “But no homework. Just talking. You’ll do great.”

Hinano chewed slowly, thinking. Talking wasn’t so scary if Bunny and Sungie were there.

After breakfast, Bunny clapped his hands softly. “Clothes, Flower. We need to look nice today.”

She hopped off her chair, Moo under her arm, and padded to her room. Her drawer squeaked when she pulled it open, little hands rummaging through the neatly folded stacks. She pulled out a dress with tiny flowers on it and held it up. “Bunny? Is this okay?”

He appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his tea in hand. His smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “It’s perfect.”

Hinano smoothed the fabric with her palms, but then a thought struck her. Her eyes went wide, and she turned to Bunny with all the seriousness in the world. “Can we… match?”

“Match?” Bunny echoed, crouching down so he was eye-level.

Hinano nodded, pointing to the pale pink flowers on her dress. “Like… the same color. So everyone knows we belong together.”

Something soft flickered in Bunny’s expression, and he nodded slowly. “I think we can do that.”

When they came back to the hall a little later, Hinano in her flower dress, Bunny had changed into a shirt with the same pale pink tone. Sungie was waiting, already in his jacket, but she frowned.

“What about you?” she asked, tugging at his sleeve.

“Me?” Sungie blinked, then looked down at himself. “I don’t have pink.”

“You need it,” Hinano insisted, tugging harder. “We all match. Then everyone knows you belong too.”

Sungie glanced at Bunny, who only shrugged with a grin. With a theatrical sigh, Sungie disappeared into the bedroom, returning a minute later with a scarf Bunny must’ve got him, soft pink like the flowers on her dress. He looped it around his neck with a flourish. “Better?”

Hinano beamed, clutching Moo tight. “Now we all match.”

Bunny leaned down to kiss the top of her hair. “Good choice, flower. Now let’s go see Park-nim.”

<><><><><><> 

The room wasn’t scary. Not like the offices she remembered before. Nor was it too bright like the lady with the folder at the orphanage had. This one had a soft rug with animals on it, a little table with crayons, and a shelf of picture books. Moo sat in her lap, her chin resting on the top of her stuffed cow’s head while the nice lady with round glasses smiled at her from across the table.

“Hi, Hinano,” the lady said gently. “I’m Dr. Lee.”

Hinano hugged Moo tighter, then gave a small bow. “Hello, Dr.Lee.”

“So polite.” Dr. Lee’s smile made little wrinkles around her eyes. “I’d love to start by hearing about where you live now. Who do you live with?”

Hinano perked up a little. “Bunny and Sungie.”

Dr. Lee tilted her head. “Bunny and Sungie?”

“Yes,” Hinano said firmly, like that was obvious. “Bunny is… um… Minho. But I call him Bunny because when he really smiles his teeth poke out like a bunny rabbit. And Sungie is Jisung. He’s funny.” She frowned a little, correcting quickly, “But they’re not Minho and Jisung to me. They’re Bunny and Sungie.”

“Bunny and Sungie then,” Dr. Lee repeated, her voice warm, like she was tucking the names carefully into her notebook. “What do Bunny and Sungie do for you?”

Hinano thought hard, swinging her feet under the chair. “Bunny always makes sure I brush my teeth. And he tucks my blanket in just right so I don’t get cold. And he makes soup when my tummy hurts. And he helped when I was scared at the store.”

“And Sungie?”

Hinano smiled, shy but bright. “Sungie makes me laugh. He sings songs when I feel small, and he makes silly faces. He pretends to be a bubble monster during bath time, but not a scary one. The funny kind. I was scared of bath time at first but not anymore!”

Dr. Lee nodded, jotting a note. “It sounds like they both take very good care of you.”

Hinano’s chest warmed. She ducked her head into Moo’s ear. “They promised.”

“What did they promise?”

“That I could stay.” Her voice came out soft, like she was telling a secret. “That they won't let anyone take me away or hurt me again.”

Dr. Lee’s eyes softened even more, but her voice didn’t change. “And do you believe that promise?”

Hinano rubbed Moo’s ear between her fingers. She thought about Bunny’s arm around her when she climbed into the couch nest that morning, and Sungie’s silly gasp when her stomach growled. She nodded, serious. “Yes. ‘Cause they keep promises.”

“Do you feel safe with them?” Dr. Lee asked.

Hinano nodded again, firmer this time. “Always.”

Dr. Lee slid a piece of paper toward her. “Would you like to draw a picture of Bunny and Sungie?”

Hinano’s crayons clattered as she picked the pink one first, then brown, then blue and a whole bunch of other colors. When she finished, she turned the page around proudly. “This is Bunny and Sungie and me. And Moo. And the rest of the pack!” She tapped each drawing, naming them off one by one.

Dr. Lee smiled, the kind that felt real. “The pack? Why don’t you tell me about them?”

Hinano sat taller in her chair, hugging Moo close before starting on and on about the trip they just took and all her new family members.

 She liked this doctor. She liked telling about Bunny and Sungie and everyone. It wasn’t scary at all.

🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹

Minho’s knee hadn’t stopped bouncing since they sat down. The whole chair was vibrating like it was trying to take off, and if he kept going, he’d burn a hole straight through the cheap linoleum.

“Min,” Jisung murmured, leaning in. “Breathe. You’re going to launch us into orbit.”

“I can’t help it,” Minho muttered, fingers laced tight in his lap. His jaw was locked, shoulders stiff and eyes slid towards the door where Hinano disappeared with the doctor. “What if—”

“She’s fine,” Jisung cut him off gently, curling a hand over his. “Dr. Lee’s probably already got Flower talking about Moo and cartoons. Our girl’s tougher than we think.”

“Our girl,” Minho echoed, but it sounded like he was clinging to the words the way other people held lifelines.

Across from them, Park smiled softly. “Nervous is normal. It just means you care.”

Jisung squeezed Minho’s hand under the table. “Told you.”

Park-nim shuffled her notes. “Now — since Hinano hasn’t started school yet, can you tell me more about your plans?”

That, at least, was a question Minho could sink his teeth into. He straightened, voice steadier. “Chan offered to write her a recommendation for Jin-Ae’s school. Smaller classes, bilingual curriculum. We think it’ll help her adjust.”

“And extracurriculars,” Jisung added quickly. “She loves drawing. We figured art would be a good start, but nothing too much at once.”

Park-ssi nodded, scribbling. “Good. And pediatrician?”

Minho’s jaw twitched. “Not yet. We’ve only just gotten back. But we have referrals and I’ll call this week. I don’t want her waiting any longer.”

“That’s fine,” Park reassured. “You’re well within the expected timeframe.”

For a second, Jisung saw the knot in Minho’s chest loosen. His shoulders dropped, his breathing evened. And then Ms. Park’s expression shifted.

“There is… one more matter.”

The words made Jisung’s stomach sink. He glanced at Minho — saw his partner freeze, eyes narrowing.

“This morning, I received an email from my supervisor,” Park-ssi said carefully. “Hinano’s biological mother has surfaced and filed to contest the adoption. Apparently, she’s on her way to Korea as we speak.”

It was like watching the floor disappear under Minho. His whole body went rigid. “What?” His voice cracked sharp. “How can she—after what she put Hinano through? How did she even find us?”

“Min—” Jisung tried, but he wasn’t listening.

“Why would any judge even consider it? She hurt her! Let others hurt her! She—” His voice climbed, ragged with anger and fear.

Jisung’s grip on his hand tightened. “Jagi. Look at me.” He waited until Minho’s eyes flicked toward him, wild and desperate. “Breathe. We’re not letting anyone take her. Let’s hear what we can do.”

Park’s voice stayed calm. “Legally, the complication is that Hinano’s grandmother didn’t have custody when she brought her here. From the court’s standpoint, parental rights were never formally severed. That opens a door — though her case is weak.”

“Weak?” Minho barked. “That woman doesn’t deserve—”

Jisung pressed his thumb firmly into the scent gland at Minho’s wrist, grounding him. “Min. We’ll fight this. You know we will. But we have to hear the steps.”

Park gave a small nod. “Exactly. Keep doing what you’re doing. Stability, education, medical care. Dr. Lee’s evaluation today will be pivotal. She’ll document Hinano’s attachment and progress. That will weigh heavily.”

Minho swallowed hard, but his voice was still raw. “So this doesn’t mean…” His throat bobbed. “It doesn’t mean we’ll lose her?”

“No,” Park-ssi said firmly. “It means a longer process, but everything indicates Hinano belongs with you. The court will see that.”

Jisung angled toward Minho, thumb brushing over his knuckles. “She’s ours. And nothing changes that.”

Minho finally dragged in a shaky breath and nodded, though his eyes still burned. “She’s ours.”

The side door opened just as Minho swiped at his eyes. Jisung’s hand stayed anchored in his, unwilling to let go, even as the door opened.

Dr. Lee stepped in first, her expression warm. “She did wonderfully,” she said softly. “Very open. Talks about you and her new pack very affectionately. Her Korean has already improved so much. We had pretty much the whole conversation in it actually. That speaks volumes to how well you’ve done with her and what you’ve done with her. Keep up the good work.”

And then there she was.

Hinano skipped inside, Moo hugged tight under one arm, her little pigtails slightly mussed like she’d been rolling around on the psychologist’s couch. She spotted them instantly, her whole face lighting up like the sun breaking through clouds.

“Bunny! Sungie!”

Jisung didn’t have time to stand before she barreled into him. He caught her easily, folding her onto his lap, her small arms wrapping around his neck with fierce determination. Minho’s hand was there too, brushing over her back like he couldn’t believe she was real.

“We missed you too, Flower,” Jisung murmured against her hair, the ball in his throat loosening so as to not worry the little girl.

Hinano pulled back just enough to grin up at them. “Dr. Lee said I draw good. I showed her Moo and she liked her too.” She held the cow up proudly.

“Of course she did,” Jisung said solemnly, giving Moo a little bow. “Moo’s a star.”

Minho’s lips curved, soft but steady now, as he leaned in to press a kiss to her temple. “And you, flower? How did you feel talking to Dr. Lee?”

Hinano’s answer came without hesitation. “Easy. I just told her how Bunny and Sungie always keep me safe. And how we’re gonna match forever.” She tugged at her dress, proud of the motif she’d insisted on that morning.

Jisung’s throat tightened. He glanced at Minho, and the look in his mate’s eyes — fierce love, barely restrained emotion — said everything words couldn’t.

Dr. Lee’s voice cut in, gentle but firm. “She’s thriving. That’s not something we can fake or coax out of a child unless it’s true. Whatever else happens, this attachment will speak louder than any paperwork.”

Hinano didn’t understand the weight of those words, but she curled closer into Jisung’s chest, perfectly content. And in that moment, Jisung knew — no matter what fight lay ahead, no matter how long or messy the process got — this little girl wasn’t going anywhere.

She belonged here. With them.

🌻🌻🌻A week later🌻🌻🌻

Hinano did not want to open her eyes.

She heard Bunny’s steps in the hall, soft and careful. The door creaked, and his voice came warm: “Rise and shine, little flower. First day of school.”

Hinano groaned and yanked the blanket over her head. Moo got stuck underneath with her, but Moo didn’t mind. She whispered into the dark, “Do I have to? I want to stay with you and Sungie.”

Bunny laughed, sitting on the bed so the mattress dipped. “Yes, you have to,” he said gently. “You don’t need to be worried. Jin-Ae will be there the whole time. You’ll have your own cubby, your own desk, new crayons. You’ll make so many friends. And when school is done, Sungie and I will be waiting to hear your stories.”

“What if nobody talks to me? What if I forget the right words?” she mumbled. She had been trying really hard with her Korean. Bunny and Sungie told her all the time she was doing good but what if she got scared and forgot everything?

“Then you’ll talk to them,” Bunny said, brushing the blanket down so her face peeked out. “And don’t worry about forgetting the words. You’ll do just fine, I know it. You’ll make a whole bunch of new friends.”

She frowned but her tummy fizz started to calm a little. Bunny smiled. “Come on. Help me with your bento. You can be in charge of the fruit.”

That was enough to make her sit up. Bento-making was serious business.

The kitchen smelled like butter and eggs. Sungie was stirring the pan, humming as he went. Bunny held the red bento box, the lid off.

“Apples or grapes?” Bunny asked.

“Both,” Hinano said after thinking very hard.

“Both it is.” He handed her slices of apples and some pretty green grapes which she very carefully placed in just the right spot before looking up at him. He cut cucumbers into heart shapes sliding them into their own little space, then some kimchi because she really liked it. When the broccoli came she wrinkled her nose but didn’t complain.

“It’s courage broccoli so you have to eat it all.” Sungie patted her on the head then winked, “It’ll help with courage.”

“Okay now the next thing is very special, Sungie worked on it all night. Are you ready?” Hinano nodded her head, eyes going wide at the rice balls. Little faces made out of using nori.  

Hinano smiled wide, hugging Sungie’s leg. “It looks like Moo!”  

“It’s supposed to be a panda…” Sungie muttered making Bunny laugh.

“Okay come on let’s hurry and eat. Don’t want to be late.”

<><><><><><> 

The school yard was big and noisy. Kids shouted, sneakers squeaked. Hinano held Bunny’s hand tight until—

“Hina!”

Jin-Ae came running over, backpack bouncing. She squeezed Hinano into a hug. “We’re in the same class! I told you!”

“You told me three times,” Hinano said, muffled.

“And I was right three times.” Jin-Ae puffed up proudly. “Come on! Let’s find our stars!”

Hinano’s tummy fizzed again, but when Jin-Ae tugged her along, it felt less scary.

Bunny crouched, kissing her forehead. “You’ll do amazing,” he said softly. “And I’ll be right here at the door when school’s over.”

Hinano nodded, gripping his sleeve for a second before letting go. Waving to Channie-samchon and Bunny as she was drug inside.

Inside, the classroom smelled like crayons and sunlight. Cubbies lined the wall, each with a name and a sticker. Hinano’s had a daisy. She touched it with her fingers—her cubby, her hook, her place.

“Good morning, Hinano, welcome to our class,”  The teacher said, earrings shaped like pencils swinging. “I’m Choi-ssi Would you like to write your name on the board?”

Hinano’s knees wobbled, but she took the marker. Standing on tiptoe, she whispered it to herself—히… 나… 노—and wrote carefully:

히나노

A little crooked, but hers.

“Beautiful,” Choi-ssi said. “Everyone, this is Hinano, she’ll be joining us starting today. Say hello!”

“Hello, Hinano!” the class sang. A girl with pink hair clips whispered, “Pretty name.” Hinano blushed but smiled.

At snack, the boy with eyes that reminded her of a  dragon pointed at her broccoli. “What’s that?”

“Courage broccoli,” Hinano said very serious. “+10 bravery.”

He gasped. “Does it work?”

“Yes,” she said. “That’s how I wrote my name.”

He nodded, impressed.

Later, her crayon broke. The pink-clip girl slid hers across the table. “Here.”

“Thank you,” Hinano said, extra loud. Bunny said good manners make friends.

At recess, Jin-Ae dragged her to the fast slide. It made her stomach jump like a jump rope. She screamed and laughed at the same time.

“Again!” she shouted, running back up.

By the afternoon, she was playing castle with three new kids. Jin-Ae declared Hinano queen.  Dowon —the dragon eyes boy—played the dragon, naturally, and Jin-Ae was her KiSA. A role she took very seriously.

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

He kept waving until she disappeared inside. Until the doors closed and the line of children vanished into the bright hallway. Only then did Minho let out the breath he’d been holding all morning.

“It’s hard at first but it gets easier. Felix almost went into the classroom with Jin-Ae so you’re already doing better than him.” Chan laughed as he clasped him on the shoulder.

His little flower had been so brave. He could still feel the shape of her small hand leaving his, like a string tugged free. Pride swelled in his chest, warm and aching. But beneath it, deeper, heavier, was the other thing: fear.

Because unlike Hinano, Minho knew her mother was in town.

“I still might. I keep thinking about her biological mother. How scared I am to leave her alone in case…” he couldn’t finished that sentence, couldn’t think about that woman without seeing red. The audacity she had to even attempt to come back into his daughters life.

“She’s safe, Min. But if it’ll ease your mind why don’t we go inside and make sure they know your expectations?” That actually might help…a least a tiny bit.

Straightening his shoulders, he walked into the office, Chan following behind him in support. “Good morning,” he told the receptionist with his most polite smile. “I just want to double-check Hinano’s records.”

The woman typed quickly, nodding as he spoke. Minho leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice. “Only the people listed—family. No exceptions. If anyone else asks, you call me immediately.” His tone was calm but iron underneath. The receptionist met his eyes and nodded again, slower this time, understanding.

When he stepped back outside, the schoolyard was empty now, echoing with the ghost of children’s laughter. He took one last look around before following Chan to the car—Chan’s house was close enough to walk to the school so he didn’t need to drive—and they drove to Step Out together.

“You did good, Min. She was smiling when she went in.”

Minho scrubbed a hand down his face while the other gripped the steering wheel so hard he thought it might crack. “She was smiling because she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know her biological mother’s here. I keep wondering how she even found us.” His voice cracked before he forced it steady. “I don’t want her shadow anywhere near my daughter.”

Chan looked over at him, fierce, protective even if Hinano wasn’t his child. “She won’t get near Hinano. You’ve got the pack behind you. You’re not alone in this, Min.”

“I know,” Minho muttered, staring out at the passing street. “But every time I let go of her hand, I wonder if it’s the last time. I hate that.”

Chan’s tone softened, that Alpha’s weight in his voice. “That woman had her chance, and she lost it. Hinano’s yours and Jisung’s.”

Minho swallowed hard and nodded, but the fear still sat heavy in his chest like a stone. He wouldn’t feel better until Hinano was back safe in his arms. Unfortunately all he could do was go teach some kids a dance routine and wait.

Today was going to be long.

🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹

The low hum of bass rattled the floor, more felt than heard. Jisung sat cross-legged in his chair, hair pushed back haphazardly, clicking through the project file. The synth line on loop was sharp, too sharp, and he frowned.

“Needs to breathe,” Changbin muttered from behind the drum pad, tapping out a rhythm with his fingers. “If the kick comes in at the same intensity as the snare, the whole drop is going to feel flat.”

Jisung groaned. “Flat is the last thing we need.”

Changbin snorted as he leaned over the console, tapping keys with quick precision. “What if we cut the low end by two dB and push the reverb tail longer? Give it some space.”

Jisung tilted his head, listening as the loop played again. Better. He grinned despite himself. “You just want to hear your precious kick drum breathe.”

“I always want my kick drum to breathe.” Changbin flicked a pencil at him, and Jisung batted it away with mock offense.

The door opened, and Chan stepped in, setting his water bottle on the desk with a quiet thunk. “You two arguing about drums again?”

“Production values,” Jisung corrected, spinning in his chair. “Big difference.”

“Mm-hm,” Chan said, half-smiling. He glanced at the table, and his smile faded when his eyes landed on the folder. The plain manila cover looked out of place between cables and coffee mugs.

Jisung’s grin slipped too. He rested his hands on the armrests, pushing the chair closer. “Social worker gave it to me and Min the other day. So we could give pictures to the school staff and I thought it might be good to give it to reception here.”

Chan’s fingers hovered over it before he finally opened the folder. The photo inside looked up at them, all sharp eyes and hollow cheeks. Changbin leaned closer, frowning.

“Wait.” His voice was too steady. “I’ve seen her before.”

Jisung froze. “What?”

“In Osaka. Remember? Near the market. She snapped a photo of me, Hyune, and the twins. And Hyunjin swore he saw her hanging around the Airbnb for a few days. I thought it was just some fan, but… that’s her. Those eyes.”

“I remember.” Chan swore softly, closing the folder  “ I thought she was just a nosy neighbor.”

“You’re sure?” Jisung asked, the back of his neck prickling.

Changbin nodded once, sharp. “I don’t forget faces. It was her.”

The studio felt too small suddenly, the bass loop still ticking in the background like a second heartbeat.

It made sense.

The timing…it was too coincidental. They come back from Osaka and all of a sudden Hinano’s mother finds them? How could they have known that a simple family vacation could turn their world upside down?

“I should’ve known,” he muttered. “Osaka—if I’d paid more attention, if I’d listened harder when Hyune said someone was outside—”

“Ji.” Chan’s voice was firm. “You couldn’t have known.”

“But what if that was the start of it?” The words tumbled out, bitter in his mouth. “What if she’s been looking since then? What if she followed us back here? I promised Minho we were safe. I promised Hinano—” His throat burned. “I can’t break that promise.”

Changbin leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees. “It wasn’t your fault. None of us clocked her. Not even Minho, and you know how sharp his instincts are. She was just… there. Wrong place, wrong time. That’s all.”

“That’s too much already.” Jisung shook his head. “She’s seen us, Binnie. She knows our faces, maybe our names. If she finds Step Out, or the bakery, or the school—”

“Then we stop her,” Chan cut in, quiet but absolute. “You think we’d let her get anywhere near Hinano? Not happening. You’re not alone in this, Ji.”

Jisung exhaled shakily, shoulders curling in. For a moment, he let the weight sit on his friends’ shoulders too. The hum of the equipment filled the silence, steady as a metronome.

Finally, Changbin broke it, softer this time. “Hinano doesn’t need to know any of this. She just needs you and Minho at the gate when that bell rings. She you to just be there for her. Everything else, we can handle. We got this.”

Jisung nodded, jaw tight. He pressed his palm harder against the folder. “We’d better.”

<><><><><><> 

The hum of the engine filled the quiet between them. Minho stared out the passenger window, fingers tapping restless patterns on his thigh. Jisung’s hands gripped the wheel tighter than necessary, the words pressing at the back of his teeth.

He couldn’t hold them in any longer.

“I need to tell you something, jagi,” he said finally. “Remember that woman in Osaka that Chan thought was just a neighbor. The one that took that picture for Hyun and Bin? It’s Hinano’s mother. I showed them the photo the social worker gave us. Just to be safe ya know? And Bin is positive it’s her.”

Minho’s head snapped toward him. For a long beat, Minho didn’t say anything. His jaw clenched so hard Jisung worried his teeth might crack.

“We led her right to us. How could I be so reckless?”

Jisung sighed, hand reaching over to take his husbands. “Min, we couldn’t have predicted this. How were we supposed to know she wasn’t in Tokyo or that she was even still around?”

“Still I should have paid more attention. I should have…” Minho’s scent deepened,  as he drew in a shaky breath, holding it before letting it back out.

“ I just want Hinano in my arms now.”

Jisung could understand that sentiment. Understood what those words meant to the omega. He needed to make sure their daughter was safely in his arms before he could think about anything else.

10 minutes later they were pulling up to the school just as the final bell rang.

The last notes of the bell echoed across the schoolyard as they got out of the car. Children poured out the doors, chattering and shouting, their backpacks bumping against their sides. Jisung glanced at Minho, and didn’t miss the way his husband’s fingers trembled just slightly against his thigh.

And then—

“Bunny! Sungie!”

Hinano’s voice sliced through the noise like sunlight breaking cloud. She came barreling toward them pigtails flying, grin wide enough to eclipse the whole world.

Minho’s breath caught audibly. By the time he was close enough she was already launching herself into his arms. He caught her close, burying his face against her hair, scent wrapping around her like a shield.

“I did the fast slide!”  Hinano shouted, wriggling to look at both of them. “We colored, and we sung about three bears! And Dowon was the dragon and I was the queen and Jin-Ae was my KiSA!”

Jisung crouched beside them, brushing hair out of her flushed cheeks. “Sounds like you had a pretty great day, flower.”

“The best!” she declared, holding out her paper crown, crumpled but proud. “I got to write my name on the board too! Sungie, I did it all by myself! Just like we practiced!”

Jisung smiled, though his throat tightened. He let her chatter fill the air, let Minho soak in the joy, and silently promised himself that no shadow from Osaka—or anywhere else—would ever be allowed to darken this light.

They walked her back to the car together, Hinano skipping between them, each little hand clasped in theirs. Minho’s shoulders had eased just slightly, but Jisung felt the tension still thrumming beneath his skin. He squeezed Minho’s hand once, a quiet reminder: she’s safe, she’s here, she’s ours.

When they buckled Hinano into her seat, she was already chattering about dumplings for dinner. Jisung climbed into the driver’s seat, Minho in the passenger beside him, both men glancing back at their daughter as if to reassure themselves she was really there.

The fear could wait. The anger could wait. Right now, Hinano’s laughter filled the car, and that was what mattered.

Chapter Text

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

The courtyard was already buzzing when Minho slipped through the gates, scarf tugged higher against the sharp winter air. Children spilled out in waves, little voices carrying across the playground. Parents clustered at the edges, stamping their feet against the cold.

He spotted Felix right away — baby Tae-yoon bundled snug in a sling across his chest, mittens tucked over pudgy fists. Felix’s free hand was pressed to the boy’s back, rocking him gently even though Tae-yoon was already out cold, cheek squished against his eomma’s chest.

“You beat me here,” Minho said as he came up beside him.

Felix grinned, soft and a little tired around the edges. “Perks of living with a seven-month-old. I’ve been up since five anyway.”

Minho huffed a laugh, though his eyes flicked to the school doors. “Are they inside still?”

“They should be coming out soon.” Felix’s tone was casual, but there was that undercurrent — the kind every pack parent carried since they found out. Always watching. Always wary.

The doors opened again, and there they were — two little heads of dark hair popping out side by side. Jin-Ae spotted Felix instantly and bolted, arms spread wide. Hinano followed just behind, careful steps until she caught sight of Minho. Then her pace quickened into a full run, pigtails bouncing.

“Eomma!” Jin-Ae squealed, crashing into Felix’s legs.

“Bunny!” Hinano chirped, flinging herself into Minho’s waiting arms.

He caught her easily, lifting her high enough that her boots dangled above the snow-dusted pavement. “There’s my flower. Good day?”

She nodded, breathless. “We played outside and I drew Moo on the board and Choi-ssi said it looked just like her—oh! And I did all the hopscotch by myself!”

“All by yourself?” Minho widened his eyes. “I need proof. Right now.”

Giggling, Hinano wriggled down, tugging him toward the faded chalk squares near the fence. Jin-Ae, never one to miss out, scampered ahead. “Me too, eomma, Minho-imo watch me!”

Felix crouched, balancing Tae-yoon with one arm and clapping softly with the other. “Go on, show us how it’s done.”

Hinano landed her jumps with determined precision, tongue caught between her teeth, while Jin-Ae skipped recklessly, hair flying everywhere. “Perfect tens. Future champions.”

The girls dissolved into laughter, cheeks pink from the cold.

That was when Minho saw her.

Just past the fence, half-shadowed under the bare branches of a pine tree — a woman standing too still, eyes trained on the children. He knew that face. The set of her jaw, the dark hair tucked back too neatly, the way her gaze lingered too long.

Hinano’s mother.

His grip on his scarf tightened until the wool bit into his palm. Instinct surged hot and sharp, but he forced his body to stay loose. No sudden movements. No reason for Hinano to look where he was looking.

“Bunny, did you see?!” Hinano tugged at his sleeve, eyes bright.

Minho tore his gaze away, dropping into a crouch. “I did. The best hopscotch I’ve ever seen.”

She beamed, bouncing on her toes. Jin-Ae wrapped an arm around her, chattering about who could jump farther next time.

Felix shifted closer, eyes narrowing slightly. He hadn’t looked toward the fence yet, but he had to have felt it — the change in Minho’s posture, the tension humming under his skin.

“Later,” Minho muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Felix’s sharp ears.

While Felix steered their excitement toward pastries, Minho caught Ms. Kim’s eye near the doorway. She’d already noticed his look, her face turning solemn. He walked over, keeping his voice low.

 “There’s a woman outside the fence, by the big pine. She’s not with parents. She’s watching.”

Ms. Kim’s face sharpened as she slowly glanced over to where Minho had mentioned.

“Add a reminder: no one picks up Hinano except me, my mate, Bang Chan, Bang Felix, Seo Hyunjin, Seo Changbin, Kim Seungmin or Yang Jeongin. You should already have the copies of our IDs.” He breathed in measuredly. “And if anyone asks about her—anyone—you call me and the principal.”

“We will.” Ms. Kim followed his eyes, then busied her hands with the clipboard to keep the moment looking normal. “Do you want security to—”

“Not with her here,” he murmured.

Ms. Kim nodded once. “Understood.”

Minho exhaled through his nose, forcing the fire back down. “Thank you.”

When he turned back, Hinano was hopping alongside Jin-Ae, singing something about kittens while Felix smiled down at them. Snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky, catching in their hair.

Minho fell in step beside them, one hand automatically finding Hinano’s head. His heart was still pounding, but he kept his smile steady for her. She didn’t need to see. Not yet.

“Took Chan’s car today,” Felix said easily as they crossed the lot, jingling his keys. “Want a ride back? Save you the subway shuffle.”

“Yes!” Jin-Ae squealed before Minho could answer. “Appa’s car has seat warmers!”

Hinano gasped as if that was the most magical thing she’d ever heard. “Seat warmers?”

Felix laughed, opening the back door and ushering them in. “Only the fanciest for the princesses.”

Minho boosted Hinano up, buckling her beside Jin-Ae before sliding in himself. Felix circled around, settling in the driver’s seat, after putting Tae-Yoon in his carrier. The hum of the heater filled the space as the car pulled smoothly onto the road.

“Bunny, it’s warm!” Hinano whispered in awe, wriggling against the seatback. “Like a blanket but not a blanket!”

Jin-Ae giggled, wiggling too. “Told you!”

Felix caught Minho’s eyes in the mirror, his mouth tugging at one corner. Minho only nodded, settling a hand lightly on Hinano’s knee to ground himself.

The girls fell into chatter about melon pan and which cartoon character would win in a race. Felix tossed in the occasional question, keeping them laughing as the city blurred past outside.

Minho leaned his head back, sliding his phone from his pocket. His thumb hovered only a second before typing fast:

My baby:

She was there

At the school

Just…standing there, watching.

She can’t get that close again.

The three dots of Jisung typing back popped up instantly, then disappeared, then appeared again. Finally:

Jagi:

Home in a few hours.

We’ll figure out what we can do

Thank you for always keeping her safe..

Minho’s chest tightened, the words anchoring him. He slipped the phone away before Hinano could notice. She was leaning toward Jin-Ae, arguing about whether Moo or Unicorn would win in a swimming race. Her laughter was light, unshadowed.

“You girls ready for that melon pan!” Felix asked cheerfully. “Minnie should have made a fresh batch this afternoon. It might still even be warm!”

Hinano perked up, conversation about the swimming race between plushies pushed to the side at the mention of the sweet bread. Smile wide and carefree. He’d do anything to make sure she stayed like that.

The familiar bell jingled as they pushed through the glass door, warm air carrying the smell of sugar and yeast straight into Minho’s chest. Hinano’s stomach gave a loud growl that made Jin-Ae giggle.

“Smells so good!” Jin-Ae exclaimed, already tugging Hinano toward the glass case where golden melon pan waited, shining under the lights.

Behind the counter, Seungmin looked up from stacking trays. His usual dry expression cracked just slightly when two small girls pressed their faces against the glass, fogging it up.

“Oh no,” he said flatly. “They’ve come to terrorize me again.”

“Samchon!” Jin-Ae crowed, sprinting around the counter before Minho could stop her. Hinano trailed right behind, both of them latching onto Seungmin’s legs with sticky-fingered hugs.

“You’ll ruin my pants,” he sighed, but his hand came down to ruffle Hinano’s hair anyway, and she leaned into it without hesitation.

“Did you miss us?” Jin-Ae asked, grinning up at him.

Seungmin made a show of groaning, “Like a cold.” But his smile, betrayed him.

While the girls dug into their melon pan at a little corner table — Jin-Ae loudly declaring she would eat five and Hinano quietly tearing hers into perfect little bites to share with Moo — Felix leaned against the counter, Tae-Yoon hidden under a blanket as he nursed while Minho picked out some more pastries to take home for Jisung. If he learned he had come here and not grabbed him something he’d never hear the end of it.

“You know,” Felix said lightly, “I think they’ve decided you’re their favorite uncle. Better accept it before they stage a coup.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes. “Great. Sticky fingers and crumbs everywhere. Exactly what I always dreamed of.”

But Minho caught the way his gaze lingered on Hinano, soft and careful, like she was already under his protection whether he admitted it or not.

“How are things with Jeongin?” Felix asked casually, bouncing a now full baby trying to get him to burp.

Seungmin’s shoulders stiffened, but his answer was measured. “Better. We’re… working on it.”

Minho didn’t press — though every part of him wanted to — but he gave a small nod. Seungmin had always been very private with his personal life. They might be pack but they didn’t need to know everything about everyone. Whatever Seungmin was willing to give was good enough. He knew the Beta loved all of them.

The girls saved Seungmin from any more of Felix’s no doubt endless questions, racing back with crumbs on their cheeks and sticky smiles wide.

“Bunny, Moo ate all the melon pan!” Hinano announced solemnly, even though her own fingers were coated in sugar.

Minho crouched to wipe her face with a napkin. “Sure it wasn’t you?”

She giggled, muffled against his hand, and for the first time since school pick-up, the knot in Minho’s chest loosened.

By the time Felix pulled the car up in front of Minho and Jisung’s building, both girls were dozing in the backseat, sugar-dazed and warm.

Minho lifted Hinano into his arms, her head dropping to his shoulder, warm breath fogging his scarf.

“Thanks for the lift,” Minho murmured.

Felix’s eyes softened. “Always. Text me if… anything.”

Minho nodded once, carrying Hinano inside, the echo of Felix’s words — and Jisung’s text — pressing steady against the weight of what he’d seen.

🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹

The apartment smelled like clean the second Jisung opened the door. Not the soft “wiped down the counters” kind of clean either — the “Minho’s stressed and trying to scrub a hole in the universe” kind.

It completely covered the scent of their home. Barley tea and spring rain, ginger and sandalwood, even Hinano’s sweet honeysuckle and green apple scent even though hers was still weaker since she hadn’t presented yet.

He dropped his bag by the door, toeing his shoes off quietly. The living room was lit by the soft winter light spilling through the curtains. Right in the middle of the couch, tucked under a pile of blankets and spare pillows scented heavily like Minho, Hinano slept curled around Moo, only the tip of her nose poking out.

A nest. Jisung’s chest squeezed. Minho must’ve built it without even thinking — half protective instinct, half stress. Their daughter looked so safe there it hurt to breathe.

“Jagi?” Jisung called softly.

“In here,” Minho’s voice floated from the kitchen, tight and clipped.

Jisung followed, leaning against a wall. Minho had his sleeves shoved up; a dish towel slung over one shoulder and was scrubbing the stovetop like it had personally offended him. A drying rack already sagged under the weight of dishes that hadn’t needed washing in the first place.

Jisung’s mouth tugged. “You know, most people wait until after dinner to deep clean the stove.”

Minho didn’t look up. “Most people didn’t see a devil today.”

That hit like a stone in his gut. Jisung stepped forward, sliding a hand to Minho’s wrist before he could wear the enamel down to nothing. “Hey. Hinano didn’t see her, right?”

Minho finally glanced up, eyes sharp with leftover adrenaline. “No. Felix was there too, thank god. But she was right there, Sung. Just…watching.”

Jisung squeezed, steady. “And you protected Hinano. That’s what matters.”

The silence stretched, broken only by the hum of the fridge. Minho’s shoulders sagged a little, the towel slipping crooked. Jisung leaned in, pressing a kiss to his temple.

A small sound broke the air — a soft sigh from the couch. Both men turned, hearts in their throats, until they saw Hinano shift in her little cocoon, Moo tucked tighter to her chest, her mouth falling open in sleep again.

Jisung grinned faintly. “See? Not even a bad dream. She knows she’s safe with us.”

Finally, Minho exhaled, the fight leaving his body. His hand fell against Jisung’s chest, resting there, grounding. “I just hate that she’s anywhere near her.”

“I know.” Jisung covered his hand with his own. “But we won’t let her get close enough to matter.”

Minho’s hand twitched like he wanted to go back to the stove, but Jisung wasn’t having it. He tugged the towel off Minho’s shoulder and tossed it onto the counter.

“Jagi,” he said firmly, though his voice stayed soft. “Come sit down. The floor is clean, the counters are clean, the stove is sparkling. You’re done.”

“I’m not—” Minho started, but Jisung didn’t let him finish. He slipped his arms around his mate’s waist, steering him gently but insistently toward the living room.

“Come on,” Jisung murmured against his temple. “My lovely Omega built such a wonderful nest that our daughter decided to call it her own.”

“I didn’t build a nest.” Minho grumbled.

How Minho didn’t realize he was nesting was equal parts adorable and unbelievable. He dragged his mate over to the couch and pointed where Hinano laid, still curled in the blankets, Moo tucked under her chin, little breaths steady. Minho hesitated at the edge, gaze softening as his hand brushed over her hair.

“She looks safe,” he whispered.

“She is safe,” Jisung said, tugging him down until they both settled against the cushions. “Because of you.”

For a long moment, Minho sat still, just watching her. Then he sighed, letting himself lean into Jisung. His hand found Hinano’s foot under the blanket, thumb rubbing slow circles through the fabric like he couldn’t quite stop touching her.

Jisung pressed a kiss to his hair. “Let’s just be here. In this moment. I’ll order food so you don’t dirty up your clean kitchen.”

Minho finally nodded, his body easing into him. Jisung gave him a squeeze before reaching for his phone, the glow of the screen reflecting off Minho’s softened profile.

Dinner came in paper bags. Minho had arranged it in the coffee table while Jisung was wrangling the recycling down the hall, and now the low table was crowded with steaming containers — bulgogi bowls, fried chicken, dumplings that still hissed when you bit into them.

Hinano perked right up when she smelled the food, sliding out of the nest with Moo clutched under one arm. She climbed straight into Jisung’s lap without asking, small fingers tugging at the chopsticks wrapper until he opened it for her.

They ate like that, hunched over the table, the television flickering in the background with some animated movie none of them were really watching yet. Minho finally seeming to calm down as they ate, his knee brushing Jisung’s under the table, his hand absently smoothing Hinano’s hair whenever she leaned toward him for another bite.

By the time the title of another movie rolled, they’d all migrated back to the couch, wrapped in the same pile of blankets Hinano had napped in. Jisung’s arm draped lazily over the backrest, Minho curled on the other side with Hinano tucked firmly between them, Moo squashed in the middle like an honorary family member.

Onscreen, cartoon characters sang about friendship, but Jisung’s attention was caught on the way Hinano’s head tipped onto Minho’s thigh, eyes heavy but stubbornly trying to stay awake.

“Flower,” Minho murmured. “It’s okay to sleep.”

She blinked, then mumbled, “But the funny part’s coming.”

Jisung chuckled, tugging the blanket higher over her. “The funny part will still be there tomorrow.”

That seemed to satisfy her, because she yawned and stretched so wide Moo nearly tumbled out of her arms. Minho caught the plush just in time, tucking it back under her chin.

Silence stretched for a few beats, soft and warm. Then Minho said quietly, “We should start thinking about her birthday. It’s next month.

Jisung glanced down at the small girl pressed between them, her tiny fingers curled tight around Moo’s paw. Something tugged hard in his chest. “Six. She deserves the biggest party Seoul’s ever seen.”

Minho gave him a look, half exasperated, half amused. “We’re not renting Olympic Stadium for a kindergartener.”

“Not with that attitude,” Jisung muttered.

Minho’s lips twitched. “I was thinking something smaller. Maybe with the pack. Cake, presents. Something safe.” His hand stroked Hinano’s hair, thoughtful. “She’s never had a real birthday party.”

The words lodged sharp in Jisung’s throat. He swallowed them down, choosing instead to lean closer until his shoulder pressed against Minho’s. “Then we’ll make sure this one counts.”

Hinano stirred just then, eyes half-lidded, and whispered, “Cake?”

Jisung bit back a laugh. “Yes, flower. Cake.”

“Strawberry,” she mumbled, already drifting again.

Minho and Jisung exchanged a look over her head — tired, aching, but full of something that felt like hope.

Jisung pressed a kiss into her hair, then another against Minho’s temple. “Strawberry it is.”

“We should get her to bed.” Neither of them moved to do as Minho suggested though.  His mates’ hand continued running through her hair.

“Are you working tomorrow?” Jisung shook his head at the question. He and Changbin had gotten stuck on one of the songs they were working on and Chan had suggested they all take the weekend off to get some rest before coming back to it.

“What if we see if everyone else isn’t busy and go to the sledding park over in Gwangjin-gu?”

Minho raised an eyebrow, “Sledding? When was the last time you went sledding Han Jisung?”

“Oh come on old man,” Jisung teased his mate narrowly avoiding the pinch to his thigh, “It’ll be fun. I’m sure all the kids will love it.”

“I don’t know, Sung…”

“We can’t let this woman halt our life.” He stopped Minho before he could voice his fears out loud. “It’s not fair to Hinano. We promised we’d give her a normal childhood. Going out with pack to sled and maybe throw some snowballs with her cousins is prime childhood memories waiting to happen.”

Minho blinked at him, once, twice before letting out a sigh, “You’re right let’s text the group chat and see if they would like to join us.”

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

Hinano woke up warm. Warmer than warm but she didn’t mind. The blankets were heavy and soft all around her, and Bunny’s arm was snug across her tummy like he was guarding her even in his sleep. His hair was tickling her cheek, messy and sticking up like it always did in the mornings. On her other side, Sungie’s hand was curled right by her shoulder, like he had fallen asleep trying to keep her safe too.

She didn’t move at first. Just breathed slow, listening. Bunny’s chest rose and fell behind her, steady as the ocean, and Sungie made little sighing noises that always made her smile. She thought, the way she did sometimes when nobody else was listening: I belong here.

Her heart felt too big for her chest.

She wriggled just a little, enough that Moo’s ear rubbed against her chin. Bunny made a sleepy sound and pulled her closer without even opening his eyes. “Don’t fall, flower,” he mumbled, his voice all rough and thick.

Hinano grinned at that. Even half-asleep he knew it was her.

When the light finally crept in too bright to pretend anymore, Bunny pushed himself up with a groan and rubbed his face. Sungie blinked awake slower, like he always did, stretching his arms up with a squeak that made Hinano giggle.

A tummy rumbled loud enough that all three of them heard it. She poked Sungie’s tummy, who ‘whoo hoo’ed like the little dough boy she’d seen on the tv.

“Sungie’s hungry!”

Bunny stood, pulling her in his arms as he did and giving her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Then we should make some breakfast, yes?”

“Kimchijeon!” Hinano really liked kimchi she learned since living with Bunny and Sungie.

Sungie laughed in that way adults do when they think you’re being both cute and funny, “You’re gonna turn into kimchi one day.”

Breakfast smelled good right away. Bunny was at the stove, crisping up the kimchi pancake in one pan while frying eggs in another, and Sungie sliced fruit into neat little cubes. Hinano swung her legs under the table, and Moo sat propped up in the chair beside her like she had her own spot as she watched.

She liked mornings like this. Just them, close and quiet and warm.

Until the front door slammed open so hard she almost fell off her chair.

“WHO’S READY FOR SOME SLEDDING!”

Hinano squeaked and turned so fast Moo toppled over. Changbin stood in the doorway with his arms out like a superhero, boots clomping snow all over the floor. Hyunjin was right behind him, laughing, and the twins were bundled up so puffy in their coats they looked like two talking puffballs.

“Looks like I need to make some more food.” Bunny sighed but smiled anyway.

“Sledding?” Hinano asked, blinking big at them.

Sungie grinned at her surprise, sliding the fruit bowl onto the table. “Bunny and I made plans while you were sleeping. Thought you’d like it.”

Her whole face lit up. “Really?!”

“Really, but let’s eat first then we can go get dressed.” Bunny said, coming over with a plate for her, Sungie following with a few more.

The table filled quickly, chairs scraping and coats being shrugged off with the kind of noise that made the apartment feel too small but safe all at once. Hyune-imo ruffled her hair on the way by before sliding in next to Binnie-samchon, who was already cutting Jang-ho’s pancake in half because:

 “Yah! You can't just shove the whole thing in your mouth at once.”

Hinano tucked Moo back in the chair beside her, setting her plate just so in front of her. “Moo likes eggs,” she whispered, giving her a little piece.

“Moo’s not real,” Jung-seok said around a mouthful, only for Hyunjin to remind him, “Hush now, chew first, talk later, love.”

Binnie-samchon stole a bite of Sungie’s fruit before anyone else could touch it. “Mm, perfect. You cut them smaller when you know I’m coming, don’t you?”

Sungie rolled his eyes, “I literally had no idea you’d come here before sledding.”

Hyune-imo laughed, reaching across to rescue a few pieces for himself before they disappeared. “Yeah, if he did he would have cut more fruit.”

Binnie made a noise of protest, but Hinano giggled so hard she almost tipped out of her chair.

Bunny slipped another piece of pancake onto her plate, crouching beside her for a second. “Eat up, flower. We’ll need lots of energy if you plan on beating the twins on the hill.”

“I’m gonna win,” Hinano declared instantly, stuffing a bite in her mouth like proof. It made Sungie snicker and kiss her head.

“Careful, Flower,” Sungie warned, sliding her a napkin. “You can’t beat them if you choke on your food.”

The room buzzed with chatter — Hyunjin asking if they remembered extra mittens, Binnie promising he had sleds packed in the car, the twins arguing over who would sit in the front seat. All of it rolled around Hinano like a blanket, loud and happy and safe.

By the time her plate was empty, Bunny was already brushing her hair back, eyes soft. “Ready to get dressed, Flower?”

She nodded, wiping her mouth carefully like Sungie taught her. “Moo too.”

“Moo can always come too,” Bunny smiled, scooping her up.

Bunny carried her down the hall, Moo tucked under one arm and Hinano tucked under the other. In her room, he set her gently on the rug and crouched to pull out the little stack of warm clothes he’d laid out last night — thick leggings, the fuzzy sweater with the smiling kitty on the front, her puffy coat.

“Okay, Flower,” he said after helping her wiggle into the leggings first. “Arms up.”

She lifted her arms high so he could pull the sweater over her head, giggling when her hair stuck up from the static. Bunny smoothed it down, pressing a kiss to her forehead as if that was part of getting dressed, too.

“Bunny?” she asked suddenly, tugging the sleeve straight.

“Mm?”

“What’s sledding?” The word came out carefully, like she was trying it on her tongue.

Bunny blinked, then smiled slowly, like he’d been waiting for her to ask. “It’s when you sit on a sled — kind of like a flat chair with no legs — and you ride it down a snowy hill. Fast.”

Her eyes went huge. “Really?!”

“Really.”  he said gently, tucking her scarf around her neck. “The whole pack will be there.”

That made her smile, wide and bright. She bounced once in her snow boots when he shoved them on her feet. “Moo wants to sled too!”

Bunny chuckled, picking Moo up from where she’d fallen sideways on the rug. “Moo can watch from the top of the hill. Somebody has to cheer for us.”

Hinano nodded solemnly, hugging her cow tight. “Okay. Moo’s good at cheering.”

When they came back out to the living room, Sungie was already pulling on his gloves, calling over his shoulder, “Let’s go, Flower! The snow won’t wait all day!”

Hinano giggled and ran to him, arms out, her whole body fizzing with excitement.

The snow crunched under Hinano’s boots the second she hopped out of the car. Cold air puffed white from her mouth and made her giggle, because every breath looked like smoke from a dragon.

“Bunny! I’m a dragon!” she announced, blowing out another puff.

Bunny laughed, tucking her scarf higher around her chin. “The fiercest one here.”

The hill stretched in front of them, already dotted with other families. Sleek sleds zipped down, kids shouting with joy, snow flying everywhere when they skidded to the bottom. Hinano’s eyes went wide, her mittened hands squeezing Moo tight under her arm.

It looked amazing!

Before she could figure out what to do first Jin-Ae came barreling up, her unicorn hat bouncing.

“Hina! Come on!” She grabbed Hinano’s hand and tugged her toward the sleds Binnie-samchon was unloading from the trunk.

The twins bounced around him like two little snowballs in coats too puffy for their arms to bend.

“Me first!” Jang-ho yelled.

“No, me!” Jung-seok shouted louder.

Hyune-imo groaned, tugging both hoods straight. “We haven’t even started and you’re already fighting.”

Hinano hid a giggle, hugging Moo closer.

The first ride was with Sungie. Tucked safely in between his arms at the front, and together they pushed off racing bunny and Jung-Seok beside them. The sled flew fast, wind rushing past her ears, and Hinano squealed so loud she startled herself. Her tummy flipped, but not in a scary way — in a fizzy, exciting way.

At the bottom, she tumbled off into Sungie’s arms, laughing so hard her scarf slipped crooked.

“Again! Again!”

So again they went. And again and again. Binnie-samchon went with her next, then sometimes she went with Jin-Ae squished beside her, sometimes racing the twins (who always yelled “we win!” even when they didn’t), sometimes with Channie-samchon pretending to fall off halfway down and rolling dramatically into the snow.

At the top of the hill, Jeongin-samchon stood tall, scarf wrapped up to his nose — her scarf, the one with the little fox stitched in. Her chest puffed big when she saw it. He caught her staring and winked, then crouched to pull Jung-seok into his lap for a ride. The usually quiet twin whooped so loud the whole park turned to look, and Jeongin’s dimples flashed clear under the scarf.

At one point, Binnie grabbed her sled rope and ran so fast across the flat snow that she squealed until she lost her breath, her giggles tangled with his booming laugh. At the same time she saw Jung-seok cuddled up to Bunny at the bottom of the hill, looking like he was trying to worm his way inside a laughing Bunny’s coat.

Later, when she and Jin-Ae tumbled off the sled in a heap of giggles, it was Minnie-samchon’s steady hands that helped them both back up, setting Jin-Ae’s hat straight and brushing snow from Hinano’s coat.

 “Careful. Don’t want you catching cold,” he murmured, voice soft but sure.

Then came the snowball fight.

She didn’t know who threw the first one — maybe Jung-seok, because he was always sneaky — but suddenly snow was flying everywhere. Jin-Ae ducked behind Minnie-samchon’s legs and started pelting the twins, who screamed with joy.

Sungie yelped when a snowball smacked his shoulder, spinning around with fake outrage. “Who dares attack me?!”

Hinano scooped up snow with both mittens and smushed it together, running straight for Hyune-imo next. He gasped dramatically when it hit his chest, falling back into the snow like she’d knocked him over.

Jeongin jumped right in, scooping Hinano up under one arm and spinning her like a shield. “Protect the princess!” he shouted, laughing when Binnie-samchon pelted them both anyway. She squealed so hard her sides hurt, clutching Moo tight against her chest.

By the time everyone crowded onto benches with cocoa, Hinano wriggled between Bunny and Sungie, her mitten tucked trustingly into a gloved hand. He didn’t say much, just rubbed little circles on the back of her hand while she sipped. Across from them, Jeongin leaned back with Seungmin tucked close at his side, scarf still wrapped high, dimple flashing every time Seungmin muttered something that made him laugh.

Hinano looked around the circle — at Bunny, at Sungie, at Jin-Ae’s cocoa mustache, at the twins still arguing over who threw the biggest snowball, at Felix bouncing Tae-yoon on his knee while Channie-samchon wiped chocolate off his chin. Her tummy was warm in a way that wasn’t just cocoa.

“This is our family,” she whispered only to Moo.

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

The cocoa was nearly empty by the time Minho managed to gather them all, paper cups stacked high in his hands. The kids were pink-cheeked and buzzing, mittens sticky with chocolate, snow clinging to every coat and bootlace.

“Alright,” he called over the chatter, his voice cutting through just enough, “time to pack it up. Sleds in the cars. Mittens back on.”

Predictably, it took another fifteen minutes. Jang-ho and Jung-seok couldn’t agree which sled belonged to which twin, Jin-Ae was insisting on helping Hinano re-wrap her scarf, and Channie-hyung was arguing good-naturedly with Hyunjin about whose turn it was to carry the thermos.

Minho pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose, fighting back a laugh. Herding hopeful idol trainees to get the choreography right was easier than this.

“Binnie, just grab both sleds,” Hyunjin finally sighed.

“They’re too heavy!” Changbin grunted, but he did it anyway, both boys squawking as he tossed them on top like extra luggage.

Felix came up beside Minho, Tae-yoon drowsing against his chest, pacifier bobbing up and down in his mouth as he suckled in it. “This was a great idea.”

“Hopefully we wore them out enough for some rest.”

Chan came up beside them, taking Tae-Yoon from Felix to put him in his car carrier. “And I’m the old one.”

Minho glared at the unofficial pack alpha who just gave him a dimpled smile.

“Minho-imo isn’t old he’s gonna be my wife one day!” Good ole Jung-Seok there to save the day. Minho chuckled and went up to where he was being carried in the sled to give the small boy a kiss on the cheek.

“You tryna steal my man?” Jisung ruffled the boy's hair who just smiled up at him.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes and picked his son from the sled on Bins shoulder setting him on his feet and pulling him toward their car before doing the same with the other, “Come on you little flirt let’s go get warm.”

By the time they got everyone strapped in and the sleds loaded, Minho’s shoulders were already sagging. He slid into Felix’s back seat with Hinano tucked against him, Sungie climbing in after with a groan and Jin-Ae squished happily between them.

“Dinner at ours,” Felix announced once the engine turned over.

“Chan’s not cooking is he?” Minho asked warily.

“Hey! I’ve gotten better!” The older Alpha defended as they pulled out of the car park, heading towards their house.

Snow still clung to the kids’ boots when they tumbled through Chan and Felix’s front door like an avalanche, cheeks flushed and eyes bright from the cold. Hinano was giggling so hard she nearly tripped over her scarf, and Minho bent down automatically to tug it loose before she strangled herself in the excitement.

“Shoes off, shoes off!” Felix called, though his own arms were full with Tae-yoon bundled tight against his chest. Jin-Ae plopped onto the entryway mat and started wrestling with her boots right there, so of course the twins copied her, all three puffballs lined up grunting dramatically until their parents had to swoop in to help.

Chan was laughing under his breath, shoulders shaking as he shook the snow from his hair. “Alright, alright, let’s herd them toward the bathroom. Warm water, wash up, then we think about food.”

“Food now,” Changbin muttered, one hand clutching his stomach like he’d been starved for a week.

Hyunjin swatted him with a scarf. “You ate three kimchijeon at Minho’s this morning. Then snacked on that dasik you hid in your coat pocket at the sled park.”

“It takes a lot to keep looking this good for you, baby. These muscles don’t make themselves.” Changbin flexed his arm at his mate who just rolled his eyes but smushed their lips together anyway.

Minho just shook his head fondly and guided Hinano toward the living room. The house already smelled faintly like soy and sesame — Felix must’ve marinated something before they left, clever as always.

Predictably, the chaos didn’t end at the door. The twins discovered the toy basket and started building a precarious block tower in the middle of the floor, Jin-Ae announced she was in charge of Moo’s honorary seat at the table, and Hinano tried valiantly to “help” by carrying napkins only to drop half of them in her excitement.

Chan eventually clapped his hands, taking command the way only he could. “Alright, division of labor: Bin, you chop. Hyune, you stir. Jeongin—yes, you too—grab the rice cooker and don’t look at me like that. Sung, help me with the soup base. Seungmin, help Felix set the tables. Minho, sit. You’ve done enough chasing for one day.”

“I can still chop vegetables,” Minho protested mildly, though he didn’t fight too hard when Jisung nudged him toward the couch. Even if he hadn’t actually done much today, he was pretty tired.

“I’ve got it,” Jisung whispered, grin crooked. “You keep Flower from face-planting while she tries to juggle the chopsticks.”

Minho glanced over and, sure enough, Hinano was poking at Moo with a pair of chopsticks she’d swiped from the counter. He sighed, scooped her into his lap, and gently pried them from her hands. “Not toys, Flower.”

Her cheeks puffed in a pout. “But Moo wanted to try.”

“Moo can’t eat stir-fry,” he said firmly, though the corners of his mouth twitched.

The kitchen filled quickly with the sounds of chopping, sizzling, and Felix’s voice giving directions with gentle authority. Tae-yoon gurgled from his sling as if he were part of the conversation, and the twins’ tower crashed spectacularly to the ground, earning a groan from Hyunjin and a laugh from Chan.

By the time they all sat down, the table was a glorious mess of dishes — steaming bowls of rice, stir-fried veggies, plates of grilled fish, kimchi. The kids dove in first, mouths busy with retelling every sledding adventure like it had been a battle for the ages.

“I threw the biggest snowball ever!” Jung-seok bragged around a mouthful of rice.

“Did not, mine was bigger!” Jang-ho shot back.

“Mine hit Appa right in the butt!” Jin-Ae shouted proudly, sending the whole table into laughter.

Hinano wriggled in her seat, beaming. “I went the fastest on the sled! Bunny pushed me and I went zoom!”

“Fastest, huh? You’ll have to race me next time,” Minho smiled as Jeongin egged his daughter on.

 “You’d lose!” She giggled before taking another bite of the stir fry.

The table erupted into laughter, the kind that bounced easily between grown-ups and children alike. Jang-ho immediately puffed up in his chair. “No, I’m the fastest! Eomma pushed me and I went like—” he made a whooshing noise so loud half the rice in his bowl threatened to spill.

“Eat your food before it takes off,” Changbin groaned, swiping a napkin across the table where soy sauce had already splattered.

Felix was busy balancing Tae-yoon on his knee while sneaking him tastes of mashed sweet potato, Chan leaning over to intercept before it ended up smeared in his hair. Across the table, Seungmin swatted Jin-Ae’s restless hands away from his cup, replacing it with a little dish of fruit Felix had cut earlier.

It was loud, messy, and Minho wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

The house was quieter now. The soft shuffle of futons they set up on the big open living room floor after dinner was the only sign of the five small bodies finally, blessedly, asleep.

Minho sank onto the couch, rubbing the back of his neck. Felix set out mugs of tea, the steam curling between them, while Hyunjin dropped a plate of sliced fruit in the middle more out of habit than hunger.

For a moment, no one spoke. They just breathed in the rare calm.

Then Minho cleared his throat, voice low but steady. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you all. Hinano’s birthday’s coming up. Next month.”

That pulled every eye in the room. Chan’s brows shot up, Felix’s mouth curved into a soft ‘oh,’ and Changbin leaned forward like he’d misheard.

“Her birthday?” Hyunjin repeated, voice tinged with surprise.

Minho nodded. “Day after Innie’s. February 9th. She’ll be six.” His lips twitched — the barest smile. “It’ll be her first birthday with us. I… want to make it special. Something she’ll never forget.”

Jeongin’s dimpled grin warmed the whole room. “Of course we will. That little girl deserves the world.”

“I’ll make the cake.” Seungmin offered immediately.

“I have decorations,” Hyunjin chimed in, already pulling out his phone like he might start sketching ideas.

“School friends?” Chan asked thoughtfully. “Or just family?”

Minho’s gaze softened. “Just family this time. She’s still settling in. I don’t want to overwhelm her.”

The table hummed with nods of agreement. Jisung leaned back with a crooked smile. “So family party. Big cake, too many balloons, the works. Easy.”

And just like that, the planning began — lists scribbled on napkins, arguments over flavors and themes, Felix insisting on at least one homemade dish while Hyunjin pulled up photos of extravagant balloon arches. The talk stretched late, the tea gone cold, but the air stayed warm with the sound of a pack plotting joy.

Chapter Text

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

The studio reeked of sweat and maybe just a few tears, mirrors fogged at the edges, the air thick with the rhythm of sneakers pounding hardwood. Minho clapped sharply, signaling for the music to cut.

“Again,” he barked. “And if one more of you drag your feet on the turns, all of you will be running the stairs until your legs give out.”

The trainees groaned but reset, forming their line with stiff determination. Minho paced, arms folded, eyes sharp. His job wasn’t to be liked. His job was to turn them into performers who could hold their own under stage lights.

The door creaked open. Jisung slipped in, hood pulled up, hands tucked into the pocket of his sweats. He leaned against the frame, eyes flicking to the trainees before settling on Minho.

“Hey,” he said lightly. “I’m grabbing Hinano early. She’s got that pediatrician appointment this afternoon, remember?”

Minho’s chest tightened. He wanted to go with them, wanted to be the one holding Hinano’s hand in the sterile doctor’s office, but his day was locked with deadlines. He exhaled through his nose. “I wish I could be there.”

Jisung’s smile softened, warm in a way that pulled at Minho’s chest. “I know, she knows. Whip ‘em into shape.” He stated with a wink, then slipped back out, quiet as ever.

For a while, the music filled the space again, drowning out Minho’s thoughts. He corrected stances, sharpened timing, forced himself into the work.

Twenty minutes later the door banged open, sharp enough to startle the line of dancers.

Changbin stepped in, eyes stormy, breath clipped. “Hyung,” he said, voice tight. “You need to come outside. Now.”

Minho’s gut went cold. The look on Changbin’s face wasn’t one he saw from the jovial Alpha often — jaw clenched, shoulders rigid, coiled like a spring. Without a word, Minho handed the music controls to the dance line leader and followed him out.

The hallway felt too quiet, too narrow. The second the glass doors opened, the winter air hit — crisp, biting, and laced with something sour.

Hinano’s mother stood on the sidewalk like she’d been waiting for this moment. Arms crossed, lips curved in a smile that wasn’t a smile at all.

Chan was already outside, a few paces from her, body angled like a wall. His jaw was locked, fists loose at his sides in the way that told Minho he was one breath away from stepping in.

Minho’s vision tunneled. All the air left his lungs. “What are you doing here?” He spit, venomously.

The woman tilted her head, mocking, voice dripping with satisfaction. “Took me ten minutes. All I had to do was google your names from the custody papers. Celebrities always think they’re untouchable. Turns out you were easier to track down than I figured. Been following you for days and you never even noticed.”

Minho’s chest heaved. Rage coiled fast and hard, hot enough to blur his sight. He stepped forward. “What do you want?”

“You know, it was pure luck, running across you all in Osaka. I was there because my mother had a friend there and I thought she’d be hiding out with her. Imagine my surprise when I catch her scent on that one— " She pointed to Changbin who looked like he wanted to rip her throat out for disrespecting his family. Then her smirk sharpened, turning cruel. "— and the prissy Omega and kids with him. What do two grown men even want with a little girl, anyway?”

The words hit like a slap. Minho surged, fists clenching, but Changbin was faster — arm shooting out across his chest, iron-strong.

“Don’t,” Chan muttered, low and steady just loud enough for him to hear. “She’s not worth it.”

The woman’s grin widened at Minho’s unbridled anger, like she could taste the fury in him.

Chan’s voice cut in, deep and dangerous. “Careful,” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Keep talking, and we’ll let the police handle your stalking and harassment.”

“Oh, please.” She laughed — sharp, humorless. “What are they going to do? She’s mine. My blood. All your money, all your fancy lawyers can’t change that.”

“Your blood? You are not fit to even breathe the same air as her.” Minho’s teeth ground together so hard his jaw ached. “Your mother knew that. You will never be allowed to hurt my daughter ever again. I’ll do whatever I can to make sure of it.” He wanted nothing more than to tear the smugness from her face. But he couldn’t — not here, not with everything on the line.

“You show up here again, you’ll regret it." Chan took a step closer, eyes dark. "This isn’t a game. Walk away while you still can.”

For a moment, the woman hesitated, the weight of Chan’s tone cutting through her bravado. Then she sneered, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”

She turned on her heel and strode off, heels clicking against the pavement until she disappeared down the block.

The silence that followed was razor sharp. Minho’s fists shook at his sides, fury still burning through him. Changbin didn’t move his arm until Minho finally sucked in a shuddering breath.

Chan exhaled, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “She’s testing you,” he said flatly. “Don’t give her what she wants.”

Minho swallowed hard, chest still heaving. “She won’t take her. Over my dead body.”

Changbin’s grip finally eased, steady and grounding. “She won’t. Not while we’re here.”

Chan tipped his chin toward the corner of the building, where a small black camera sat tucked under the awning. “We’ve got her on tape. That footage goes straight to the lawyer, and the social worker will see it too. She wasn’t supposed to make contact right? She just handed us evidence she’s harassing you. Use it.”

Minho’s eyes stayed fixed on the empty street, every muscle in his body wound tight with a single promise — Hinano was theirs. No one, least of all the woman who had already destroyed so much of her childhood, was going to take her away.

🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹

The pediatrician’s office still smelled faintly of antiseptic, sharp enough to cling to the back of Jisung’s throat as he held the door open. Hinano darted past him, bundled up in a puffy lavender jacket, her mittens dangling by their strings. Her breath puffed in the frigid January air like tiny clouds.

“Cold, cold, cold!” she squeaked, stamping her boots against the sidewalk.

Jisung laughed, pulling his hood tighter. “I told you this morning you should’ve used the thicker scarf. You didn’t believe me.”

“It was itchy!” Hinano huffed, cheeks pink from the wind. Then her eyes caught on something ahead, and all at once she tugged hard on his sleeve. “Sungie! Stop! Bunny needs it!”

Jisung followed her gaze to the little shop window they were passing. The display was crammed with mittens and winter coats, but Hinano’s attention was glued to a ridiculous beanie — oversized, fluffy, with floppy bunny ears sticking up from the top.

“Bunny needs it,” she repeated solemnly, tugging at his hand like this was a matter of life or death.

Jisung’s lips twitched. “You think so huh?”

Hinano nodded fiercely. “Uh-huh!”

Before he could argue, she marched inside, dragging him along. With all the seriousness of someone signing a major business deal, she plucked the beanie from the rack and held it out to the cashier. From her tiny pocket she produced two coins and a button, all proudly placed on the counter.

Jisung’s chest ached with affection. He quietly slipped a bill across before the cashier could say anything, mouthing a soft 'keep the change.'

Outside again, Hinano cradled the bag in her arms like treasure. “Don’t tell Bunny,” she whispered, conspiratorial. “It’s a surprise.”

Jisung bent down, voice just as serious. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

Step Out’s lobby was warm after the winter wind, familiar with its faint buzz of music from the upper floors and the quiet shuffle of staff coming and going. Hinano bounded up to the receptionist’s desk, already grinning.

“Hi, unnie!” she chirped, standing on tiptoes to peer over the counter.

The young woman behind the desk laughed softly, sliding a wrapped candy across. “Hello, Hinano! Did you have a good day today?”

Hinano nodded seriously, cheeks puffed with pride. “Uh-huh. And I got Bunny a present. But it’s a secret!”

“You did?” The receptionist’s eyes softened. “I’m sure he’ll love it.”

Hinano twirled away, tugging Jisung toward the familiar hallway. When they reached the choreography studio, the muffled beat of music grew louder. She shoved the door open without hesitation.

“Hi!” she shouted.

The trainees lit up instantly, some groaning in mock complaint, others dropping to their knees to hug her. “Hinano! You’re late!” the group leader teased, and another hurried forward to lift her up and spin her around. It was nice to see her progress. It wasn’t too long ago she would have broken down at their touch but here she was giggling and hugging them back as if they were old friends.

Jisung leaned on the doorframe, watching as they set her down and immediately folded her into their circle. One queued up the song again, showing her the opening steps. Hinano mimicked them with all the seriousness in the world, tongue poking out as she concentrated. The room buzzed with laughter and encouragement.

And then Minho appeared at Jisung’s side, silent but magnetic as ever. His eyes softened at the sight of Hinano dancing with the others, but when he turned to Jisung, the warmth drained.

“We need to talk.” he murmured, already angling them toward a quieter corner of the hall.

Jisung followed, his gut tightening.

“She showed up here,” Minho said, voice clipped and low.

Jisung didn’t need to ask who. His chest iced over instantly.

“Outside. Chan and Bin were with me. She was smug, spouted disgusting nonsense. Said we were easy to track down. I almost—” His jaw flexed, words breaking off. He exhaled hard. “If they hadn’t stopped me, I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

Jisung pressed his palm over Minho’s wrist, grounding him. “You didn’t though. You kept your cool, and that’s important.”

Minho stared at him for a long moment, jaw trembling, then finally gave a curt nod, like the words had rooted him enough to breathe. He dragged a hand down his handsome face.

“Chan pointed out the cameras here. We’ll pull the footage for the lawyer. I already called the social worker to tell her what happened. And…” His gaze flicked back to the practice room, where Hinano’s laughter carried through. “The psychiatrist she saw wants to schedule a follow up as well. I figured Friday after school would be best.”

Minho’s eyes went dark, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. “What if she knows where we live, Sung? What if she…”

The thought twisted Jisung’s stomach, but he forced his voice steady. “Then we deal with it. We’ve got cameras at home, and neighbors who would notice if something’s wrong. And if it ever feels unsafe—” He swallowed hard, making sure Minho saw the resolve in his eyes. “We move. Simple as that. She doesn’t get to know where our family sleeps. Ever.”

Hinano came running over, face flushed, smile wide, almost out of breath. “I almost forgot! I got you a present, Bunny!”

She held up the paper bag proudly and Jisung watched as Minho immediately softened the only thing in the forefront of his mind now being their child. The switch was impressive really.

“A present?” He asked crouching down to her height. 

She bounced on her toes as Minho opened it dramatically slow. “You have to put it on, Bunny!” Burst of laughter left the trainees that stopped as soon as his mate shot them his signature head tilt with slow blinking eyes, and they went back to practice.

“Its wonderful, Flower. I’m all sweaty right now so I’ll have to wear it later, okay?” Hinano pursed her lips but nodded.

“Okay! I’m gonna go dance!” And just like that she was skipping back to the lineup like she belonged there. Jisung chuckled and shook his head, holding out a hand to help his mate off the floor.

“How about we get outta here early and grab some late lunch early dinner at that bbq place down the street?”

“Sung, I’m working.” Oh no that wasn’t going to fly. Not on his watch. After the day he had, Minho deserved some time to let his brain reset. Sometimes he’d be so busy taking care of everyone else he forgot to take care of himself. Those times he’d need Jisung to take control and lately it seemed he was doing it more than usual. It was a weird role reversal but one he was starting to enjoy if he were honest.

“You know one good thing about being an owner of this company?” He whispered with a wink before turning towards the group and clapping his hands, “Alright everyone! Let’s pack it up and go home. Be back here at 09:00 ready to run it again!”

Half the group whooped, half fell to the floor dramatically crawling to him as if they were praising him before quickly gathering their things and running out the door before they couldn’t anymore.

“Han Jisung! We are on a deadline!” Jisung shrugged like he wasn’t sorry, not even a little bit, a small smirk on his face.

“You go take a shower in the locker room, and I’m going to go take Hinano to see Chan and Bin.” The small girl squealed at the prospect of seeing her uncles dragging him out of the room and down the hall. Once the door opened Hinano bolted to Changbin, climbing up on him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Woah there!” The bigger man caught her easily and even threw her up in the air before giving her a big wet kiss on the cheek.

“Binnie-samchon!” She faux complained as she wiped her cheek in an exaggerated manner but smiled big and toothy.

Chan spun around in his chair, laughing as the small girl wiggled out of Changbin’s grip to go hug him next. “How was the doctor?”

“I got a lollipop for sitting still through my shots like a big girl!” Hinano puffed up with pride as she pulled the small red sweet out of her pocket holding it up like a prized possession.

“Wow! Maybe you can teach me how to be brave like you.”

“Hey, Chan-hyung, why don’t you show Hinano that new song we’re working on? I’m gonna go check on Minho.”

Hinano tilted her head with an adorably confused look on her face, “But I thought Bunny was going to take a shower so we could leave?”

Changbin burst out laughing while Chan pulled her towards the sound board shooting the young Beta an unamused look as he left the room.

The locker room was quiet when Jisung pushed the door open, the sound of running water echoing off tiled walls. Steam hung heavy in the air, curling around the edges of the stalls. He spotted Minho instantly —  dark head tipped back beneath the spray, water coursing over his hair, down his throat, his chest. Still wearing that stubborn tension like a second skin.

Jisung just stood there, watching for a moment. The sight of Minho unwinding, even slightly, stirred something low and hungry in him.

“You always look so goddamn beautiful.” Jisung’s voice bounced off the tiles, awe filled.

Minho cracked an eye open, one brow lifting. “I’m showering. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Jisung smirked, stepping closer, already tugging his hoodie over his head. “Not unless I’m in there too.”

He didn’t give Minho a chance to protest. Shoes, sweats, shirt — gone in seconds, leaving a trail to the stall. He slid in under the spray, crowding Minho against the tiled wall

“Ji—” Minho started, but his voice broke when Jisung’s mouth found the curve of his throat, teeth scraping lightly over his scent gland.

“You work too hard, jagi, always taking such good care of everyone,” Jisung murmured, lips brushing against the pounding line of Minho’s pulse. “Let me take care of you now.”

The thrill of it made his blood buzz — the company’s locker room, just down the hall from where the others were. Steam couldn’t hide the sounds they might make. Anyone could walk in. And that was exactly what made him harder than a rock.

Jisung grinned against his mouth. “This turn you on, jagi? Want someone to come in and see you fall apart on my cock?”

“Sung—”

Whatever he meant to say broke off when Jisung pressed him flat to the wall, mouths crashing together, hungry, reckless.

Jisung dragged a palm down his chest, over his stomach, until he was cupping both ends of Minho’s need. His thumb stroked over the slick head of Minho’s cock while two fingers teased between his folds, already wet, already clenching. 

Minho’s gasp echoed off tile, hips jerking helplessly into the double touch. His cocklette leaked thick pre-come over Jisung’s hand even as slick gushed between his thighs. The contradiction, the excess, drove Jisung half-mad.

“Fuck, Ji—” Minho’s voice cracked, breath ragged.

“God, you’re dripping,” Jisung groaned, dragging his fingers up to show him the mess coating them before shoving them into Minho’s mouth. “Taste yourself.”  

Jisung was never overly dominant in bed but since his role in their life lately has been swapped with how Minho usually grounds him, he’d thought he’d give it a try.

Minho sucked them down, eyes bright showing his arousal at the treatment, moaning low in his throat. It was wrecked and obscene and everything Jisung loved about him.

He dropped to his knees on the tile, one hand stroking Minho’s cock, the other spreading him open to lap at his slick cunt. The taste was salt and musk with hint of Minho’s scent pouring over Jisung’s tongue as Minho’s legs trembled, Omega cock jerking in his grip.

“Fuck, Sung—people—” Minho groaned, head thudding against tile.

“Let them hear,” Jisung growled, diving deeper, tongue thrusting into him while he worked his cock with short, steady strokes. Minho’s moans spilled raw and desperate, echoing in the steam.

When Minho’s thighs started to shake, Jisung pulled off, smirking up at him, lips shiny with slick. “Turn around.”

Minho obeyed without hesitation, bracing his palms against the wall. His cock bobbed needy in front of him, dripping, while his cunt glistened, open and begging. Jisung lined himself up and pushed in hard, burying deep with one thrust.

Minho cried out, half groan, half sob, the sound ricocheting around the stall.

“Fuck, jagi—so wet, so tight.” Jisung gripped his hips, pounding into him, each thrust driving more slick down his thighs, splattering against Jisung’s skin, mixing with the spray of water. He wrapped one hand around Minho’s cock at the same time, pumping him in rhythm so every stroke had him gasping.

“Mine,” Minho choked, voice hoarse, head dropping against the wall.

“Yeah,” Jisung rasped in his ear, teeth sinking into his shoulder. “Yours. Always. But right now you’re mine to ruin.”

Minho’s body squeezed around him, both ends clenching, cocklette spurting precum over Jisung’s hand as his cunt milked him desperately. The mess of it had Jisung driving harder, fucking him fast, filthy, reckless, with no thought for anything but wringing him out.

It didn’t take long. Minho broke first, crying out Jisung’s name, cock spilling hot and wet over his fist as his cunt fluttered violently around him. The dual release made his whole body shake, collapsing forward against the wall.

Jisung groaned and followed him over the edge, thrusting deep and coming with a sharp curse, filling him until it spilled back out with the water. He kept moving through it, grinding in, hand still working Minho’s spent cocklette, dragging every last tremor out of him until Minho slumped boneless against tile.

The only sounds left were water pounding tile and their ragged breathing.

“Fuck that was too good. Would have been hot if someone came in.” Jisung pressed his lips to Minho’s damp shoulder, smug even in exhaustion. “Although I don’t think I’d actually like anyone seeing you like that.”

Minho’s laugh was broken, breathless, his voice low and ruined. “You’re trouble.”

Jisung grinned against his skin. “Yeah. But I’m your trouble.”

Steam still hung thick in the stall, water pounding against tile as their breathing slowed. Jisung pressed another kiss to Minho’s shoulder, softer this time, less demand and more grounding. Minho leaned back into him without protest, chest heaving, small Omega cock still twitching faintly where Jisung’s hand had abandoned it.

“Easy,” Jisung murmured, sliding his palms over Minho’s hips, coaxing him to turn back around. When Minho did, cheeks flushed deep pink, Jisung kissed him slow — gentle in a way that made the contrast to what they’d just done even sharper.

“Sit,” Jisung said, nudging him to the little tiled bench in the corner of the stall. Minho went without argument, still catching his breath.

Jisung grabbed the bottle of soap and lathered his hands, running them over Minho’s chest, his shoulders, down his arms in long soothing sweeps. Minho’s lashes fluttered, eyes heavy but soft as he let himself be tended to. When Jisung knelt to wash his thighs and calves, rinsing away the mess the shower hadn’t already claimed, Minho hummed low, a sound halfway between gratitude and bone-deep tiredness.

“Better?” Jisung asked, rinsing the suds from Minho’s hair with careful fingers.

Minho cracked his eyes open, lips quirking faintly. “If I say no will you do that again?”

Jisung chuckled, kissing his temple.

They finished in silence, both of them moving slower now, washed clean but still buzzing faintly with the reckless edge of what they’d done. Jisung passed Minho a towel and watched him wrap it around his waist, skin pink from heat and exertion.

They dried off side by side, Jisung stealing a few lazy kisses in between tugging on fresh clothes from their lockers— he put the ones he discarded in the shower rooms floor in there for later cleanup. Minho dressed quickly, muttering under his breath when his shirt clung to damp skin until Jisung tugged it straight for him. He looked softer like this — hair still dripping, face flushed, but calmer than he’d been in hours.

They had just finished pulling their hoodies over their heads when the door to the locker room squeaked open. A trainee froze in the doorway, gym bag slung over his shoulder, eyes going comically wide as he took in the sight of both his seniors, hair plastered and still damp, the air thick with steam and them and sex. He sniffed once — sharp, instinctive — and his face immediately went crimson.

Minho’s ears turned scarlet to match, his jaw clenching. Jisung smirked, biting back laughter as Minho brushed past the boy with as much dignity as he could muster.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Minho said curtly, voice low and clipped, before marching for the exit without looking back.

The trainee bowed so fast he nearly dropped his bag, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like sorry ahjussi before scuttling away.

Jisung finally let out the laugh he’d been holding in, jogging to catch up with his mate. Minho’s ears were still red as they stepped into the hall, but his hand found Jisung’s anyway, squeezing once before they headed back toward Hinano and the others.

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

The best thing about Bunny and Sungie’s work wasn’t the shiny mirrors in the dance room or even the snack machine in the lobby — it was the room full of buttons.

“Okay, little flower,” Binnie-samchon said, lifting her up so she could see all the lights on the big soundboard. “These ones here make the beat.” He pointed to a row of square pads that glowed red, yellow, green.

Hinano’s eyes went wide. “They look like traffic lights!”

“I guess they kinda do, huh?.” He grinned, lowering her so her tiny finger could tap one. A deep thump rattled the speakers. Hinano gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth.

“You just made a kick drum,” Chan-samchon told her, his voice warm and proud. “Want to add something else?”

She nodded so fast her hair swished around her. Binnie guided her hand to another pad, and this time a sharp clap rang out. Hinano squealed. “It’s like the machine is clapping with me!” She smacked her hands together in rhythm, giggling every time the pad echoed her.

Bin laughed so hard he fell back in his chair, while Chan leaned forward, showing her another set of knobs. “If you slide this one up, the sound goes higher. If you slide it down, it goes lower.”

She slid it up slowly, watching the clap turn squeaky, then down until it boomed low like thunder. “It’s magic!” she whispered, awestruck.

Chan smiled, ruffling her hair. “Music is a kind of magic. And you’re pretty good at it.”

“Better than Binnie-samchon!” she blurted, her grin wide.

“Yah!” Bin gasped in mock offense, clutching his chest. “I taught you everything you know, and this is the thanks I get?”

Hinano giggled so hard she tipped over, landing against his chest. He hugged her close, ticking everywhere until she squealed with delight. “Bin-Bin, stop!”

“Not until you admit I’m still the best!”

“Nope!” she squeaked, wiggling free. “Hinano is the best!”

That made both men laugh, their voices bouncing off the walls of the studio. Channie tapped out a quick rhythm on the pads, and Binnie caught it, adding in another sound. Before long the whole room was filled with a silly, lopsided beat — too messy to be a real song, but to Hinano it was perfect.

She danced in a little circle, arms flapping, head thrown back in giggles. “I made music!”

“You did,” Channie-samchon said, clapping along with her. “First of many, I think.”

Bin crouched down beside her, grinning. “Think you’re ready to be the youngest producer in K-pop?”

Hinano puffed up proudly. “Yes!”

They were still laughing when the door creaked open. Sungie walked in first, shaking out his hair, with Bunny right behind him. Both of them had damp fluffy hair, and their scents were sharper than usual — spicy, warm, extra earthy…strange.

Hinano froze, eyes wide. “Did the shampoo monster attack you too, Bunny?!”

Binnie-samchon made a strangled noise, pressing a fist to his mouth, while Channie-samchon slapped a hand over his face, his shoulders shaking with barely-contained laughter.

Bunny’s ears went pink, his expression carefully serious even though his cheeks were red. “Something like that,” he said, patting her head.

“You just have to tell him, no and he’ll stop!” She turned to her samchons to explain better, “No is the shampoo monster's weakness.”

That set both uncles off, Chan wheezing into his sleeve while Bin nearly toppled backward in his chair. Hinano frowned at them until she couldn’t keep a straight face either, her giggles bubbling up and breaking through.

Her stomach growled loudly enough that everyone turned. She gasped, clutching it with both hands. “I’m starving!”

Sungie swept her up onto his hip, bouncing her once. “Well, lucky for you, I know just the place.” He winked at Bunny over her shoulder. “How about some barbecue?”

Hinano’s eyes went huge. “Meat?!”

“Meat,” Sungie confirmed, deadly serious.

She threw her arms up in triumph. “Meat!”

<><><><><><> 

The restaurant smelled like heaven. Smoky, spicy, warm — like the air was made of dinner. Hinano bounced on Sungie’s hip as they walked in, pointing at the ceiling vents shaped like shiny silver tubes.

“Are those robot arms?” she whispered.

Sungie laughed, kissing her cheek. “Robot arms that eat all the smoke, yup.”

They slid into a booth, Bunny on one side, Sungie on the other, with the big grill right in the middle. Hinano climbed onto the bench and sat up on her knees so she could see everything. The waitress brought plates of raw meat, shiny and pink, and bowls of little side dishes that smelled sour and sweet all at once.

“Don’t touch the grill, Flower,” Bunny warned gently as the fire underneath crackled to life.

“I know,” she said solemnly. “I’m almost six. Not a baby.”

Sungie hid his smile behind his hand while Bunny hummed, sliding the first slices of meat onto the grill. The sizzle made Hinano gasp.

“It’s singing!” she squealed. “The meat is singing!”

“That means it’s cooking,” Sungie told her, flipping it with the tongs.

Hinano leaned forward, eyes wide, until Bunny tugged her back by her hood. “Too close, Flower.”

“Okay, okay,” she grumbled, though she didn’t really mind. It meant they cared and that was a nice feeling.

When the first pieces were done, Sungie wrapped one in a lettuce leaf with a bit of rice and sauce, then held it out. “Open up.”

Hinano opened her mouth as wide as it could go. He stuffed the wrap in, and she tried to chew, cheeks bulging, sauce smearing the corner of her lips. Both men laughed, and Bunny reached across with a napkin to wipe her face.

“It’s too big!” she complained, laughing with her mouth full. “Sungie tried to explode me!”

“You can try making the next one smaller,” Bunny suggested.

Hinano nodded eagerly, snatching the tongs before either of them could stop her. “Hina is the chef now.” She plopped down more meat, proud of herself when it sizzled just like theirs had.

They let her play at cooking, laughing when she tried to scold Bunny for flipping too soon or Sungie for stealing a piece before she said it was ready. For the first time she could remember, nobody told her she was in the way. Nobody shooed her off. They just let her belong.

Halfway through, she leaned against Bunny’s arm, chewing happily. “I like it here,” she mumbled.

He looked down at her, eyes soft. “At the restaurant?”

Hinano shook her head, lips shiny with sauce. “With you. With Sungie. With everyone. I like it here.”

The words made both men go quiet for a moment, something heavy and warm filling the air that even Hinano could feel. Bunny’s hand smoothed over her hair, and Sungie kissed her temple, neither saying anything, but she didn’t need them to. She just knew.

When the next round of meat hit the grill, she sat up straighter, determined. “Okay. Hina’s turn again. Sungie, you do the lettuce. Bunny, you do the rice. I’ll do the meat. Teamwork!”

“Yes, Chef!” They saluted in unison and Hinano giggled, her chest glowing with a happiness too big to name.

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

By the time they got home, Hinano was nodding off against Jisung’s shoulder, sugar crash heavy in her little body. Minho carried her down the hall, her tiny arms looped loosely around his neck.

The bedtime routine was familiar now, comfortable — soft pajamas, teeth brushed with too much bubblegum-flavored toothpaste, hair towel-dried after a quick bath—sans shampoo monster. Hinano clutched Moo as he tucked her in, pulling the blanket snug under her chin.

“Bunny?” she murmured sleepily, eyes half-lidded.

“Yes, Flower?” he asked softly, smoothing her hair back.

She smiled faintly, cheeks warm from drowsiness. “I love you.”

The words were small, but they crashed through him like a tidal wave. His throat tightened, breath catching in his chest. He bent and pressed a trembling kiss to her forehead. “I love you too, Flower. So much.”

Her smile lingered as she drifted off, breath evening out in the stillness of the room.

Downstairs, Jisung was already sprawled on the couch, two mugs of tea waiting on the table in front of him.  Minho joined him, sinking into the cushions with a sigh that seemed to come from his bones.

For a while, they sat in companionable quiet. Then Minho turned his head. “Tell me everything. About her appointment. I hated missing it.”

Jisung’s expression softened. He set his mug down and leaned back. “She did great. Sat still the whole time. She’s right on track for height and weight — smack in the middle of the growth curve. The doctor said her vision and hearing looked perfect.” He smiled faintly. “She was so proud of herself for passing the eye chart.”

Minho let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his chest easing. “And the shots?”

“She was brave,” Jisung said. “Didn’t even cry. The nurse gave her a lollipop, and she held it up like she’d won a trophy. Told the whole office she was a ‘big girl now.’”

Minho chuckled, the sound low but warm. “That sounds like her.”

“She’s healthy, Min,” Jisung assured him, voice steady. “Doctor said she’s adjusting well. Better than expected, honestly. Asked about her sleep, her appetite, her play — and she’s thriving. We’re doing good.”

Minho stared into his tea, letting the words sink deep. The fear from earlier loosened another notch. Thriving.

He reached across the couch, linking their hands. “Thank you for going with her.”

Jisung squeezed back, eyes gentle. “Of course, she’s our daughter.”

They stayed like that, side by side, while the house settled around them, Hinano safe in her room and the night finally softening at the edges.

Chapter Text

🐹🐹🐹Friday🐹🐹🐹

Something tugged at the corner of the blanket.

Jisung cracked one eye open to find a very small figure climbing up onto the bed, Moo the cow tucked under one arm. Hinano pressed a finger to her lips. “Shhh.”

He squinted at the clock. Too early. Way too early. “Flower,” he whispered, voice still raspy with sleep. “What’re you doing?”

She leaned close, her little face serious. “Remember our plan?”

It took him a second, brain foggy, and then he remembered the whisper at bedtime last night — let’s make Bunny breakfast tomorrow. He’d agreed, half-asleep, thinking if she had to go through something hard later today then she deserved to have a happy start. And she had been trying to convince him for a few days to do this. When she finally gave him those big puppy dog eyes he was done for. He just didn’t know it would be this early.

“Right,” he muttered, rubbing at his eyes. “The surprise.”

She nodded solemnly. “We gotta hurry before Bunny wakes up.”

Jisung sighed, but he was already pushing the blanket back. “Okay, partner. Operation Pancakes is a go.”

Fifteen minutes later, the kitchen was chaos.

Jisung squinted at the recipe on his phone, swiping the screen with flour-dusted fingers. “It says one cup… wait, is this a cup?” He held up the measuring scoop like it had personally betrayed him.

Hinano giggled, perched on the counter with Moo and the mixing bowl. “It’s a cup, Sungie. Pour it in.”

He did — a little too quickly, sending a puff of flour into the air. Hinano squealed, clapping her hands as the cloud settled on her hair.

“We should add chocolate chips. Bunny will like chocolate pancakes!” The confidence in her voice made Jisung smile even wider even as he put a finger to his lips. He wasn’t even sure if they had chocolate chips.

“Okay, okay, shhh,” Jisung hissed, even though he was laughing too. “Remember, it’s a secret. We can’t wake Bunny yet.”

Hinano covered her mouth with both hands, eyes sparkling. She leaned forward to whisper, “We’re good at this.”

“Best team ever,” Jisung agreed, nudging her with his elbow.

They took turns stirring, batter splattering across the counter. Hinano stuck her tongue out in concentration, gripping the spoon with both hands. Jisung steadied the bowl, fighting the urge to laugh as she mixed like her life depended on it.

Hinano held the spoon upright, and the batter clung to it like glue. Jisung frowned. “Uh… Flower? Is pancake batter supposed to be this thick? It looks like wallpaper paste.”

Hinano gasped, offended. “It’s perfect! I mixed it really good.”

Jisung eyed the bowl doubtfully. He gave the spoon a stir and nearly broke his wrist. “Really good is one way to put it…”

They were just trying to wrestle the batter into the pan when footsteps sounded in the hall. Hinano gasped, eyes going wide. “He’s coming!” she whispered.

“Act natural!” Jisung stage-whispered back, holding the pan like a shield.

That was the exact moment Minho walked into the kitchen to find the counter coated in flour, his daughter giggling, and Jisung looking guilty as hell. He wished he could see from his mates eyes.

“Do I even want to know what’s happening here?”

“We’re making pancakes…” Minho came to peer over his shoulder and let out a surprised sound.

“Jagi. That’s not batter, that’s cement mix.”

Jisung sputtered. “Hey! Don’t insult my cooking in front of our daughter—”

“It’s my cooking,” Hinano interrupted, crossing her little arms.

Minho went over to where she sat on the counter, plucked her off it and set her on the step stool they got for when she wanted to help, smoothing a hand over her flour-dusted hair.

“You worked very hard, Flower. I can tell. And I bet they’ll be the best pancakes ever.” His eyes flicked up at Jisung, deadpan. “Even if Sungie sabotaged the recipe.”

“Sabotaged?!” Jisung cried. “I’m the one keeping the bowl from flying off the counter!”

Hinano giggled, smacking his arm with the spoon. “No fighting in the kitchen,” she declared, mimicking Minho’s stern voice.

Jisung gasped theatrically, clutching his chest. “Bunny’s rules, coming out of your mouth now? Betrayal!”

She laughed so hard she almost dropped Moo.

Minho straightened, lips twitching. “You two are a disaster team. But…” He picked up the ladle, testing the weight of the batter, then sighed. “We’ll thin it out a little, and they’ll be just fine.”

Hinano nodded sagely, satisfied. “See, Sungie? Bunny knows.” She took the pan from Jisung, put it back on the stove and looked at him expectantly as he turned it on.

When it was hot enough, he helped Hinano ladle the batter in very carefully as Minho went to make coffee, watching them with the eyes of a hawk.

The first pancake sizzled in the pan like it was trying to protest its own existence. Jisung hovered nervously with the spatula. “It’s not supposed to look like that, right? It’s… smoking.”

Hinano puffed up, snatching the spatula out of his hands. “I’ll do it! I’m the chef!”

“Fine,” Jisung muttered, crossing his arms. “I’m demoted. Moo probably cooks better than me anyway.”

“Silly Sungie, Moo is just a stuffie,” Hinano said seriously, sliding the spatula under the pancake with both hands. She wobbled a little, but Minho’s steady hand snuck in at the edge of the pan, guiding her without her noticing.

He should probably pay better attention too. After all this was supposed to be for Minho.

Hinano squealed in triumph as the pancake flipped over (barely intact). “See, Sungie?! Perfect!”

Jisung clutched his chest dramatically. “Perfect. Right. Totally not thanks to Bunny’s stealth ninja moves.”

Minho shot him a warning look over Hinano’s head, shaking his head just slightly. As if to say ‘Let her have this.’

So Jisung swallowed his laugh and grinned. “You’re amazing, Flower. Best pancakes in the world.”

The next one went smoother, mostly because Minho quietly adjusted the heat and slipped in a splash of milk to the batter when Hinano turned her back to grab Moo a “taste-test piece.”

By the time the stack was done, they actually looked… edible. Jisung eyed them with suspicion. “No way we pulled that off without divine intervention.”

Hinano slid the plate across the counter with both hands, beaming. “Eat, Bunny!”

Minho took a forkful, chewing slowly. His expression stayed perfectly serious, even though Jisung could see the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Delicious. Better than mine.”

Hinano clapped her hands triumphantly.

“Traitor,” Jisung whispered, stabbing a piece off the plate for himself. It wasn’t half bad. He narrowed his eyes at Minho, who sipped his coffee innocently. Fixed it. Totally fixed it.

Hinano shoved another forkful toward him, nearly tipping the plate into his lap. “Eat more, Sungie!”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, catching the plate just in time. “Bossy chef.”

Hinano hopped down from her chair as she finished the last of her meal, Moo tucked under her arm, syrup still sticky on her chin. Minho dabbed at her face with a napkin and kissed her hair. “Go get ready for school, Flower. Teeth first.”

“Okay, Bunny!” She darted down the hall, socks sliding on the floor as she disappeared into her room.

The second she was gone, Minho turned in a slow circle, surveying the kitchen. Flour on the counters, flour on the floor, batter spattered across the stove. He sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “My poor kitchen.”

Jisung leaned against the counter, smirking. “It’s not that bad.”

Minho raised an eyebrow at the flour-coated light fixture.

“Okay, maybe it’s a little bad,” Jisung admitted, laughing as he rolled up his sleeves. “But hey… we made memories, right?”

Minho shook his head, but his lips twitched. “You and Flower are a dangerous team.”

Jisung slipped behind him, arms looping around his waist. He pressed his face into the curve of Minho’s neck, grinning when the omega went still for a second, then relaxed against him. “Dangerously cute,” he murmured.

“Mm.” Minho rinsed a rag under the tap, but his scent shifted warm, sweet at the edges. “More like dangerously messy.”

Jisung kissed just under his ear, smiling when Minho shivered. “Messy’s worth it when it makes you smile like that.”

Minho made a quiet sound — halfway between exasperation and fondness. He leaned back into Jisung’s hold, just for a moment, before wriggling out enough to reach the counter. “If you’re going to hang on me, at least grab another towel.”

“Yes, ahjussi,” Jisung teased, swiping one off the rack. He trailed after Minho as they wiped down surfaces, sneaking another kiss to his shoulder whenever he leaned over.

“You’re impossible,” Minho muttered, though the corner of his mouth betrayed him.

“And you love me,” Jisung shot back, grinning.

Minho’s eyes rolled but a smile fell on his almost too perfect face, “Just get dressed or Hinano will be late for school, and you’ll be late for work…again.”

<><><><><><> 

Step Out was buzzing by mid-afternoon. Chan had already spread three different notebooks across the desk, scrawling furiously while humming under his breath. Changbin, on the other hand, was balancing a water bottle on his forehead while scrolling through his phone, because apparently multitasking was a sport.

“You’re gonna drop that on your face again,” Jisung muttered, plopping into the chair across from him.

“I won’t—” The bottle slipped. Bin swore, catching it against his chest.

Jisung smirked. “Called it.”

Before Bin could fire back, Chan’s phone buzzed. He frowned, scanned the screen, then blinked. “Oh. Holy shit.”

That got Jisung’s attention. “What?”

Chan turned the phone around. Best Production Team Nomination: 3Racha. And just below it: Song of the Year Nominee — “Rising Fire.”

Bin let out a whoop loud enough to rattle the speakers. “Let’s gooo! They finally noticed we’re geniuses!”

Jisung’s grin stretched wide before he could stop it. “Song of the Year. Damn. We’re basically legends now.”

“It’s just a nomination, and the song of the year technically goes to the rookies.” Chan said, though the proud little curve at the corner of his mouth gave him away.

“Yeah but we wrote it.” Jisung leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. “Keep pretending you’re not thrilled. You’ll be insufferable by tomorrow.”

Bin jabbed a thumb toward Jisung. “Says the guy already planning his acceptance speech.”

“Speech starts with ‘I told you so,’” Jisung deadpanned, earning a groan from both of them.

The laughter buzzed warm through his chest. It was nice to finally be recognized for all their hard work throughout the years. To be able to share this with his hyungs without the weight of everything else going on around them.

“Don’t you need to leave to pick up Hinano? You guys got the social worker again right?” Well, there goes the happy moment.

“And psych eval just to make sure she’s still ‘safe’ with us. Honestly that part’s such a joke, of course she’s safe with us.” Jisung practically growled in annoyance—not something he usually did which is probably why Chan’s eyes softened when he spoke next.

“Ji, they’re just doing their job.”

Jisung sighed, standing to gather his things. “I know, doesn’t mean it sucks any less. I’ll see you guys later.”

The choreography studio sat across the building but it didn’t take him long to get there. Jisung ducked inside to find Minho scribbling notes while a handful of trainees leaned along the mirrored wall. He caught his mate’s eye, jerking his head toward the door.

Minho dismissed the group with a few quiet words and fell into step beside him, their footsteps echoing in the hall.

“Everything okay?” Minho asked, sliding his hands into his pockets.

Jisung couldn’t help the grin tugging at his mouth. “More than okay. We just got nominated — Best Production Team. And Rising Fire’s up for Song of the Year.”

Minho’s brows lifted, just for a second, before he schooled his face back into calm. His ears went pink anyway. “It’s just a nomination.”

“That’s exactly what Chan said. You two are impossible.” Jisung bumped his shoulder as they pushed through the doors to the parking lot. “You’re proud. Admit it.”

Minho huffed, lips twitching. “I’m always proud of you. But – I’m worried right now too. Remind me to celebrate properly later?” His scent shifted, heavier, more like old tea leaves. Already thinking of Hinano.

Jisung swallowed his teasing, matching his stride instead. The awards could wait. Right now, their daughter came first.

They walked the rest of the way in silence, side by side, until the car came into view.

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

The bell rang, and Hinano ran out the door— Jin-Ae right beside her— hair flying as she scanned the crowd for a familiar face.

Her steps slowed when she saw them — not just Sungie or Bunny waving at her like always, but both of them. Lixie-imo there too for Jin-Ae like always.

She grinned, cheeks warm as she barreled forward. “Bunny! Sungie!”

Sungie knelt and scooped her up the second she was close enough, peppering kisses all over her face. “There’s our Flower.”

Bunny reached to smooth her hair, his smile softer, quieter. “How was school today?”

“Good!” She bounced on her toes. “I got a sticker for reading out loud. Teacher said my Korean is much better. Almost like I was born here!” She pulled the sticker proudly from her pocket, a shiny gold star.

“Of course it is you’re a genius,” Sungie said, ruffling her hair as he stood.

Hinano glanced between them, still puzzled. “Why are you both here?”

Bunny’s hand squeezed hers, his thumb rubbing circles into her palm. “We’ve got something important this afternoon. We wanted to come together.”

She didn’t really understand, but it didn’t matter. If Bunny and Sungie were both coming, then it had to be special. And she loved when they were both around — it felt safer, warmer, like the world couldn’t touch her.

“Okay!” she chirped, slipping a hand into each of theirs. “Then let’s go. Bye Jin, bye Lixie!”

The ride was filled with silly songs her and Sungie sung— Sungie making funny voices as Bunny clapped along on the steering wheel.

As they pulled up to a building she realized where they were. It was the same place they talked to the nice doctor lady. It wasn’t anything scary but Hinano still squeezed Bunny’s hand tight as they walked in, Sungie holding her other one. She was confused but knew they’d never do anything to hurt her. Never that.

“Why are we back here?” she asked, voice small.

Bunny glanced down at her, his thumb rubbing gently over her knuckles. “It’s just something we have to do, Flower. To show everyone you’re safe and happy.”

“But you already know that.” Hinano said, frowning.

Sungie leaned down, brushing her hair back from her cheek. “We know. But the doctor and social worker need to hear it too, from you. Just to make sure you’re in the best place.”

Hinano tilted her head, confused. “The best place is with you.”

Both men went quiet for a moment, their scents changing just a second, enough to cause Hinano’s frown to deepen. Bunny’s grip tightened, just a little.

“I know,” he whispered. “That’s what we’re going to show them.”

The office they were led into was different from the first one. It was warm, painted soft yellow with a fuzzy rug and a basket of toys in the corner. There was even a shelf with picture books. But the clipboards in the adults’ laps made Hinano’s stomach twist for some reason. She sat in the middle of the couch, Bunny on one side, Sungie on the other.

“Hello, Hinano,” said Park-ssi standing beside the lady with glasses. Her smile was kind, but serious. “Do you remember us? I’m the social worker. And this is Dr. Lee, the psychologist.”

Hinano nodded, eyes on her shoes.

“We just want to talk with you for a little while,” Dr. Lee  said. “You can tell us anything you like. If something feels too hard, you can tell us that too. Okay?”

Hinano peeked at Bunny. He gave her one of his soft smiles, the kind that always meant you’re safe. Sungie squeezed her hand. She nodded.

“Can you tell us who takes care of you at home?” Park-ssi asked gently.

“Bunny and Sungie,” Hinano said quickly. That was easy.

“And what do they do that makes you feel safe?” Dr. Lee asked.

Hinano thought about it. “They hug me when I cry. Bunny always lets me help cook. Sungie reads me stories before bed. Sometimes if I have a bad dream Bunny helps me make a nest and it smells like them and that makes me feel better. Like the bad dreams can’t hurt me anymore. They… they don’t get mad or hurt me if I mess up.”

Bunny’s chest rose sharply beside her, his eyes going soft, while Sungie brushed a thumb over her hand.

The questions started simple — about her room, about what she liked to do at home. Hinano told them about Moo, about playing with Jin-Ae, about dancing with the trainees. About how she had a whole pack of people that loved her. Talking about those things made her chest feel lighter.

But then Park-ssi leaned forward. “Hinano… do you remember living with your birth mom?”

Hinano froze. Her fingers twisted in Moo’s fur. She didn’t want to think about that. But the pictures came anyway — dark rooms, bad smells, scary voices, and waiting, always waiting.

Her throat felt tight. She shook her head quickly, eyes stinging. “I don’t want to.”

“Hinano, I know it’s hard—“ the doctor lady started

Bunny shifted beside her, scent spiking sharp. His arm came around her shoulders, pulling her close. “She doesn’t have to.”

Dr. Lee’s voice was soft. “You don’t have to, Hinano. But even a little bit helps us tell some very important people the truth.”

Hinano pressed her face into Bunny’s side, breathing in his safe scent. The words scraped out anyway, muffled against his hoodie. “She left me with bad men. Bad men who—who touched me in places even when I said no. Bunny and Sungie said if you say no it means no. I said no but it didn’t stop.”

Everything went quiet.

Bunny’s hand froze on her back. His breath hitched, sharp before cloaking her in a protective layer of his tea and rain smell. Sungie adding his own layer to it. She liked when he did that. It made her feel like theirs. Like they were her mama and papa. Like safety.

“Hinano, how would you feel if you saw your birth mother again?”

Hinano didn’t want to think about that. Her chest started to hurt and she couldn’t breathe. She snapped her eyes closed and shook her head back and forth so hard it made her hair slap her face.

“That’s enough,” Bunny said, voice rough. “You’ve read the reports. Why are you making her relive it?”

Hinano flinched, not at him, but at how loud he was. Bunny never raised his voice.  She peeked up, his jaw locked tight, eyes flashing like he was ready to fight.

Sungie’s hand touched his arm. “Min. It’s their job. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Bunny growled. His hold around her tightened, protective and unyielding. “Look at her. She’s terrified.”

Park-ssi’s expression softened. “We understand. And you’re right — this is difficult. But even her reaction tells us what we need to know.”

Hinano sniffled, hiding her face against him. Her chest hurt. She wished she had Moo here too as extra security.

Dr. Lee’s voice was quiet. “Hinano, how do you feel when you think about your birth mom?”

Hinano whimpered, rocking a little. “I feel… sick. Scared. Like she’s gonna come back and take me to those bad men again.”

Bunny’s hand curled against her side, his breath sharp.

Dr. Lee leaned forward gently. “That’s very brave to say. Thank you.”

Park-ssi’s tone was even softer. “One last question, Hinano. Then we’ll be finished. Is that all right?”

Hinano hesitated. Bunny kissed the top of her head. Sungie rubbed circles into her palm. She nodded.

“Your birth mom says she wants to see you again,” Park-ssi said carefully. “How does that make you feel?”

“I—mama is bad. I don’t—I don’t want to. Please…I don’t want to.” The tears left her eyes before she could stop them.

Bunny made a sound like all the air had left his chest. Sungie’s hand tightened on hers.

Park-ssi closed her folder. “That’s all we needed, sweetheart. You were very brave.”

Hinano sagged against Bunny’s side, exhausted but lighter. She whispered into his hoodie, “I want to go.”

“Why don’t you play with me for just a bit? Bunny and Sungie need to talk with Park-nim for just a bit.” Hinano bit her lip as her two favorite people stood up, Bunny pressing a quick kiss to her head.

“We’ll be right back, Flower.”  Sungie said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes but he wouldn’t lie to her. She knew that. So, she nodded and watched as they walked into the next room.

“Would you like to draw? You did really good last time.”

“Okay….” Then she glanced back to the door as it shut softly.

Dr. Lee cleared her throat gently. “Do you want to stay living with Bunny and Sungie?”

Hinano sat up, wiping at her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. Her voice came out shaky but strong. “Yes. Forever.”

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

Minho didn’t want to leave her. It felt wrong after what just happened and his Omega instincts were bristling to wrap her in his arms and smother her in his scent. To hide her from all the dangers of the world and just…keep her safe.

“Come on, jagi. Just a few more minutes and we can take her home.”

The door closed behind them, shutting Hinano out of earshot. Minho’s hands were still clenched at his sides, his scent sharp enough to sting. Jisung hovered close, ready if he needed grounding.

Park folded her hands on the folder in front of her. “Han-ssi, I need to inform you of the court’s decision. Despite the concerns you’ve raised and the document the grandmother wrote before her passing, the judge has ordered a supervised visit between Hinano and her biological mother.”

Minho’s chest rumbled, low and dangerous. “No.”

“I understand your frustration,” Park-ssi  said carefully, “but the judge has reviewed the mother’s file. She passed her most recent drug test. She’s provided character references, entered rehabilitation programs, and the court believes she is making efforts to change. The system is designed to give people a second chance.”

“That woman came to her school; she came to my place of work. Spouted the most disgusting things. We have her on camera! I sent you the footage!”

“The footage you referenced,” Park interrupted gently, “was not clear enough to confirm identity in court. Combined with her current compliance, the judge feels compelled to allow the visit—“

“She sold her own daughter to men for drugs! She doesn’t deserve to be allowed to breathe the same air as Hinano!” Minho snapped, his voice like a whip crack. His scent flared so sharply Jisung put a hand on his arm.

Park sighed clearly as frustrated with the whole thing as he was, “I understand your frustrations, believe me this is the last thing I wanted for Hinano. She’s thriving with you and I don’t want to jeopardize that.”

Minho’s nails dug crescents into his palms. His whole body was tight, vibrating with rage he could barely contain. “You’re telling me that after everything she’s been through — after what that woman did to her — the court is sending her back into that monster’s presence?”

“I’m telling you,” Park said firmly but not unkindly, “that the judge has ordered this visit. I do not agree with every decision, but I cannot change it. My role is to prepare you and Hinano, and to ensure it is supervised under the strictest possible guidelines. You both will be there, I will be there, ever Dr. Lee  has asked to be there so she can observe their interactions which I think is a very wise decision. It’s safe to say that none of us want to put Hinano back in harms way.”  

This did very little to ease Minho’s fear. Because that’s what this was…fear. Not for himself but for Hinano. Minho couldn’t sit here any longer. Without another word he stood, opened the door to the other room and picked Hinano up. Breathing her in as if she were his lifeline and not the other way around. Since the door was open, he heard Jisung’s question as he took charge of the conversation.

“When does this need to happen?”

“Within the next two weeks,” Park-ssi said. “We’ll coordinate with you on location and conditions. Please understand — your cooperation is crucial here. Resistance could be used against you at the custody hearing.”

“Two weeks?” Minho made eye contact with his mate. Hinano’s birthday was in two weeks. They couldn’t allow her to ruin yet another thing for this beautiful little girl.

The social worker looked at him like she knew the thoughts in his head, “I can’t say what the exact date is yet, when I know I’ll call you immediately.”

“Thank you Park-ssi,” Jisung stood coming over to where he still held Hinano possessively. “If we’re done here, I’d like to take my family home.”

“Of course, I’ll be in contact. Enjoy the rest of your day.” Minho scoffed at her words. As if he could enjoy anything right now with that bombshell dropped on their heads. He set Hinano down long enough to bundle her for the cold January afternoon then picked her up again. His Omega needed the grounding, needed to keep her as safe as he could.

The air bit at Minho’s cheeks as they stepped out of the building, Hinano bundled against his chest. She was quiet, her little fingers twisted in his hoodie. Every so often, she gave a tiny sigh, like she was too tired to make a full sound.

Jisung opened the car door, setting her backpack inside, but Minho couldn’t bring himself to let her go just yet. His arms tightened, his chin tucked over her soft hair. She smelled faintly of honeysuckle and green apple—the scent would only get stronger as she got closer to presenting but he was positive that it was her scent.

“Min,” Jisung said gently, brushing a hand down his back. “We should get her buckled. She’s worn out.”

He knew Jisung was right. But his body screamed to keep her close, to never risk setting her down where the world might reach for her again. For a long beat he just held on, rocking slightly, feeling the small rise and fall of her breath.

Then a tiny murmur reached his ear, muffled into his chest. “Don’t let go, Bunny.”

His throat closed. He kissed the crown of her head, eyes stinging. “Never, Flower. Not ever.”

Jisung’s hand found his again as they leaned together for just a moment, both of them anchoring themselves in the quiet.

Finally, Minho eased her into her booster seat, tucking a blanket around her for extra warmth. Her eyes drifted shut before the door was even closed.

As Jisung pulled the car onto the road, Minho stared out at the gray winter streets, one hand still stretched back to rest over her small blanket-covered legs. Fear churned in his chest, sharp and unyielding. But under it all was something stronger — the vow that no matter what the court ordered, no matter how many hoops they had to jump through, he would not let her be taken.

Not now. Not ever.

Chapter Text

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

The knock sounded too loud in the soft blue dawn light of morning. No one should be awake on a Saturday this early. It was just cruel.

Minho shifted the bags holding some of Hinano’s things higher on his shoulder and glanced back at Jisung. The Beta stood on the porch cradling a very sleepy Hinano, her face mashed into his collarbone, one hand fisted in his puffer jacket sleeve, Moo tucked between them like a wedge. Frost scraped pale across the lawn; the kind of early February cold that bit through layers and made breath bloom white.

The door swung open to Felix in an oversized hoodie and fuzzy socks, blonde hair sticking out all over the place, eyes smiling. The house breathed out around him—citrus and vanilla layered over a base of Chan’s musk and pine—the scent of a bond so lived-in it felt like the hallway itself exhaled. Warm air kissed Minho’s cheeks.

“You’re earlier than I thought you’d be,” Felix whispered, delighted anyway. He stepped aside. “Get in, get in—before you freeze my plants to death.”

“Chan hyung said the earlier the better,” Jisung murmured, easing past with their girl. “Is everyone still asleep?”

“Treasure and Tae are,” Felix said, voice dropping to a hush. “Chan should be out soon.”

“Grandpa sleeping in?”  Minho asked, and Felix’s grin got wicked for exactly one second as he set both overnight bags down on the couch. He wasn’t sure about leaving Hinano alone for a night but Jisung talked him into it. Telling him she’d be safe and sound with Seungmin and Jeongin. Which of course he knew, but that didn’t stop the guilty feeling he had.

The kitchen glowed as they entered. Morning slid through tall windows and pooled across the big marble island Minho was secretly jealous of, catching on a lazy line of toy blocks abandoned beneath a stool. A plate of buttered toast, sliced fruit, and hard-boiled eggs waited on the counter like an offering. Someone—Felix, obviously—had cut the toast into neat triangles. The coffee maker whispered to itself; a pot of tea steamed gently beside it.

Jin-Ae padded out from the hall, eyes half-closed, wiping sleep from her face with the back of one fist. “Eomma?” she mumbled.

Felix’s whole scent turned to sugar. “There you are my sleepy baby.” He scooped her up, kissed her cheek, and Jin-Ae burrowed in like a cat. “Would you like some fruit?”

Jisung slid onto a stool with Hinano in his lap. She blinked into the light, disoriented, then found Minho with her eyes and softened. “Bunny?”

“Hi, Flower.” Minho brushed a piece of fuzz from her cheek and tucked Moo beneath her arm so he could take her hand. “Felix made breakfast. Small one, and then later we’ll feed you properly.”

“It’s okay, I’m not hungry,” she lied, reaching for a toast triangle without looking when Ji put her on her own chair.

Minho smiled. “Of course not.”

They ate like thieves—quick, quiet, grateful. Jisung blew across a spoonful of soft egg and Hinano stole the bite with a grin. Jin-Ae shuffled onto the adjacent stool, then decided stools were for people who didn’t need cuddles; sliding into Hinano’s seat instead, both girls tucked together in one chair, heads bumping, sharing fruit like they might fall back asleep mid-chew. Moo was tucked between then like a sacred relic.

Chan appeared, hair bed-messy, halfway zipping up a hoodie he found lying around, smile softening his whole face when he saw the girls. “Good morning, gremlins,” he whispered, kissing each of their heads, then Felix’s temple with automatic tenderness. The musk-and-pine undercurrent of him sharper than usual, as if he couldn’t reel it in this early. He squeezed Minho’s shoulder in a silent greeting as he shuffled over to where the coffee sat.

At the front door a thud sounded and they heard hushed yelling trying to quiet down who could only be the Seo family but failing spectacularly. How the boys could be this rambunctious this early Minho would never know. It was actually quite impressive.

Changbin and Hyunjin blew in with the twins in a flurry of jackets and whispers and the kind of early-morning chaos that carries its own weather system. One twin announced, “I’m not tired,” through a yawn big enough to crack his face; the other immediately tried to scale Hyunjin like a tree.

 “Shh,” Hyunjin pled, already losing, “eomma loves you but he needs this night away,” and then kissed the top of a small skull like he’d been doing it forever. His sweet floral scent threaded into the kitchen air mixing with the rest of the pack like it belonged—it did.

Changbin let out a bark of laughter as he took ahold of one of the chaos makers, “I second that. I can’t remember the last time we had a night all to ourselves.”

Minho couldn’t help the eye roll; he was sure they did not have any problem with their sex life. Especially since he saw Hyunjin just last week covered in hickies.

Felix clapped silently, hands bouncing. “Eat now or forever hold your hunger,” he stage-whispered, sliding plates their way. “Toast triangles and fruit diplomacy for all.”

Hyunjin fished a grape from a bowl and popped it between Changbin’s lips without looking. Changbin narrowed his eyes in pretend offense, chewed, and then opened his mouth for another. His mate rolling his eyes lovingly before giving in to it.

They had just finished making a plate for the boys when yet another knock sounded at the front door.

“Showtime,” Chan said, expression settling into mission mode.

“Already? We’ve had like 10 minutes.” Minho murmured. He was never really one for doing the whole glitz and glam part of life his mates' job sometimes entailed. He had attended an award show a grand total of one time before and that was enough. This was big though so of course he’d support Jisung and their pack mates without complaints—well maybe a few depending on what the stylist wanted to put him in.

The glam squad—as Jisung so affectionately called them— was a migration: rolling trunks that rattled like cymbals, garment bags shushing over shoulders, a steamer hissing like a territorial cat. A makeup artist breezed past trailing a cloud of clean mineral scent; a hair stylist set a tackle box of clips on the island and said, “Power outlet?” even as Chan said, “Here,” and pointed at a surge protector he’d clearly set out for this purpose.

The house transformed in a blink: mirrors propped against bookcases, extension cords snaking like vines, a row of chairs dragged into the living room facing a window’s soft light. Partitions set up even though there were rooms to get dressed in.

“Okay my stars,” said the manager, clapping softly. “Hydrate, then sit. We will make you beautiful and also on time.”

Hinano and Jin-Ae were re-tucked into an oversized armchair with a blanket big enough to tent a house, Tae-yoon in the bassinet closest to Chan who rocked it every once in a while and the twins coming to plop down on the couch with an exaggerated sigh.

Minho kissed the top of Hinano’s head and her fingers found his wrist, anchoring. “I’m here,” he murmured. She nodded, tucked Moo beneath her chin, and watched with solemn interest like this was a very serious nature documentary about lions getting their manes brushed.

Speaking of: They started with hair.

Felix winked at Minho as a stylist sectioned his hair into glossy squares and applied dye with painterly patience. He had to admit he didn’t expect Felix to ever go back dark again.

Across the room, Chan submitted to the same treatment but with bleach, a stoic jaw and a twitching eyebrow. Two stations, two timelines. Every time the foil crackled, Hinano’s eyes got rounder.

“Why is Channie-samchon getting a spaceship on his head?” she whispered.

“So he can beep-boop prettier,” Jisung whispered back, and Chan nearly launched a foil across the room laughing.

Minho was gently guided into a chair of his own. He sat; the world narrowed to sensation. A brush feathered foundation into his skin; a thumb’s pressure warmed his temple. Red-copper smoke built at his eyelids in soft passes until his eyes felt faceted. His mouth held a gloss that stuck too much if he closed his lips too long.

“Close,” the artist murmured; he did, air on his lashes like moth wings.

“Jewelry,” someone said, and the tray arrived. Minho lifted the piece in his hand, tilting his head at the velvet choker with a small amethyst stone.

“I picked her birthstone, so she could be there with you.” Jisung whispered in his ear as he leaned down to give him a quick kiss right behind it going to his own chair.

For a second he turned it in his palm, it was beautiful and perfect. For her. The thought softened everything inside him. When the necklace was placed around his neck it felt like everything clicked into place.

Hyunjin drifted past toward wardrobe a small partition blocking them from prying eyes, scarlet chiffon already waiting on a rack like a tame animal. The fabric puddled like liquid when the stylist lifted it.

“Arms,” he heard the woman murmur. When he came out, Minho couldn’t help but stare. Hyunjin wore a crimson red jumpsuit that billowed out into a skirt the sheer sleeves draping and catching the light.  When the man glanced at his reflection, his mouth did that tiny private smile—the one Minho had learned meant I know exactly what I look like, and I’m going to use it.  And even he had to admit it suited Hyunjin perfectly.

Across the room, Changbin came out from yet another partition and rolled his shoulders into a blackish blue mesh blazer while a second stylist smoothed a palm down his sleeveless shirt to test the lay, earning a low growl from Hyunjin when her hand lingered too long. The fabric hugged shamelessly; when he exhaled, pectoral cleavage stretched the shirt like a dare. A thick silver chain settled around his neck with a satisfying weight. Hyunjin—ever the shameless one—did not bother to hide his stare. Bin’s ears went pink and he pretended to study his boots.

“Appa looks so cool!” Jang-ho yelled louder than necessary while Jung-seok just stared at Minho.

The kitchen timer dinged. Felix’s stylist washed out the color; golden blonde they were used to seeing on the younger Omega, replaced by inky black waves that made his skin glow like porcelain. On the other side, when Chan’s foils came away, the room collectively inhaled. Silver, crisp as frost, was swept back from his face, sharpening everything.

“Okay,” Jisung said, hand to heart, dramatizing the moment. “You two just swapped souls.”

Felix swiveled on the stool, makeup not yet on but eyes already dangerous. “Plot twist.”

Chan tried to look unimpressed and failed; pale skin flushing all the way to his chest.

The front door opened again and the packs designated babysitters for times like this —Seungmin and Jeongin—strolled in like they owned the place.

They both stopped dead, taking in Chan’s new halo and Felix’s new darkness, and then Seungmin smiled the way sharks do. “Wow, hyung. With that color, nobody will see your gray hairs anymore.”

“Modern problems, modern solutions.” Jeongin added helpfully, slinging a tote onto a chair.

Felix cackled. Chan closed his eyes briefly like he was counting to ten in French.

“Respect your elders,” Chan said on automatic before being shuffled behind the dressing curtain.

“Find us one to respect,” Seungmin replied, deadpan, then bent to greet Hinano and Jin-Ae narrowing avoiding a hairbrush. “Hey, besties. Ready for the coolest babysitters on earth?”

Hinano considered this, then looked at Minho, then back at Seungmin. “Maybe second coolest.”

Jeongin clutched his chest. “Wounded, parents don’t count as babysitters. But we’ll earn our title back with gummy bears and a blanket fort that violates building codes. And let you stay up super late.”

Chan emerged from the behind the curtain just then, answering Jeongin’s joke with a dry, “Not in my house.” 

The words landed, but so did the weight of him. The all-leather jacket sat across his shoulders like armor, sharp lines catching the light, while the sheer black lace shirt beneath that only had three buttons done up offered the barest shadow of hardened muscles and pale skin. Tailored trousers carried the line clean to polished boots, the whole effect sleek, dangerous, and impossibly commanding.

Felix’s eyes darkened ever so slightly as he passed him to get dressed next. His citrusy vanilla scent spiking in a way all the adults in the room knew the meaning of.

“You might be getting another sibling tonight, Jin-ae.” Jeongin chuckled causing the little girl to frown in confusion.

Hyunjin let out a low whistle. “Hyung, you look like trouble.”

Seungmin arched a brow, deadpan. “Trouble? Please. That’s midlife crisis couture. 

When Felix came out from behind the dressing screen next, Minho thought Chan may have malfunctioned.

His outfit was as soft and ethereal as the man himself. White silk crop top attached to a back piece assembled like jewelry: the chains of pearls criss-crossed his bare spine in careful rows. High waisted white silk pants that came together at the seams with small pearls, covered by a sheer ruffled high low overlay of some sort that still managed to let the pearls at his back live freely without covering. When he moved, they chimed softly, a private song Minho thought Chan might try to sample if the look he was giving Felix were any indication.

Chan drifted closer—purely by instinct—close enough to watch one chain settle at the dip in his mate's spine just over the swell of his bum. Felix felt the gaze and fought a private smile, then lost and let it loose.

“Stop ogling,” Seungmin said mildly as he scooted Jang-ho and Jung-seok over on the couch so he and Ayen could sit. “There are children present.”

Chan turned his stare towards a lamp with exaggerated interest. “Lovely lamp.”

Minho’s stylist returned with wardrobe ushering him behind the screen next. She showed him a black satin two piece ensemble that looked impossibly right even on the hanger—cropped wrap top that criss- crossed just beneath his chest leaving the slightest bit of skin showing. Dramatic sleeves that connected to nothing leaving it flowing behind him like a cape and high-waisted satin trousers with clean lines and another sash of fabric tied loosely against his hip.

When the fabric slid over his skin, it whispered a sound like the quietest breath. The tailor adjusted the wrap tighter around his waist drawing it in more; Minho felt himself inhabit the shape—shoulders down, spine tall, chin easy. The amethyst choker flashing when he breathed.

He reemerged from behind the curtain and the room went a little quiet —just enough for him to feel it.

Hinano uncurled from the chair, blanket wrapped around making her look like a small, caterpillar in a cocoon. She crossed the hardwood, toes silent on the rug, and stopped in front of him, head tipped back. “Bunny,” she said, breath catching, “you look so pretty.”

The words landed in his heart filling it with love. Minho crouched carefully and let her pat the sleeve, tiny fingers pressing at the smooth fabric. “And soft,” she added decisively, and Moo—tucked under her arm—nodded along in spirit.

“Don’t—” Minho cleared his throat. “Don’t make me cry. Sungie will never let me live it down.”

“True,” Jisung said cheerfully from the other dressing area.

Minho looked up—and forgot about air.

Jisung was a problem on two legs: sharp fitted black blazer left open on a bare chest, chains draped like rivers across it attatched to a thin leather harness framing the planes of his pecs. His trousers were cut slim and high, and the line of him—broad shoulders, small waist—was a geometry Minho had loved in private and now had to share with the world.

Jisung clocked Minho’s face and stopped moving, the corner of his mouth turning up with slow, perilous satisfaction. “Breathe,” he murmured, crossing the room in three easy steps. His scent—creamy, spicy, woody—musked up a degree.

“I don’t think I know how,” Minho said, honest and wrecked.

Felix made the universal motion of someone fanning themselves. Hyunjin wolf-whistled and then checked his nails like he hadn’t. Changbin stared, blinked twice like his brain hit a buffer screen, and then muttered something that sounded suspiciously like a curse. Chan pinched the bridge of his nose without any force. Seungmin said, “That on the next album cover and you could fund the studio for a year.”

Hinano, from below: “Sungie forgot his shirt.”

“It’s fashion, Flower,” Jisung said solemnly, then reached down and booped her nose.

“Final checks!” the coordinator sang, as if a conductor trying to save a train. “Shoes on, jewelry secure, phones, touch-ups—limo’s five out.”

Touch-ups swirled like birds. Someone re-slicked Minho’s gloss; someone else settled pearl cuffs at Felix’s wrists; a runner came through with a lint roller like a sword. Hyunjin’s scarlet ensemble flowed behind him when he walked, making wind where there was none; Changbin’s mesh flashed and hid, flashed and hid, every breath a tease of impossibly large biceps. Chan rolled his shoulders back into his all-leather jacket and the room collectively agreed not to look him directly in the eyes.

Seungmin and Jeongin moved like a practiced unit: snacks deployed, coloring books opened, blanket fort schematics negotiated. Tae-yoon’s sleepy noises drifted from the bassinet; Jeongin’s head angled automatically, counting breath without moving. It was an orchestral kind of calm—their version of it, anyway.

“Okay, everyone,” the coordinator said, clapping once. “We are leaving.”

Shoes thumped and clacked to the door. The limo idled in the driveway, low and glossy, exhaling little white breaths into the cold. Minho slid on the rings given to him—the metal cool against his skin—and checked Hinano.

“Bunny?” she said, voice suddenly small. The house’s warmth gathered around the question.

He crouched. “Mm?”

“Can I draw a picture of you like this later?” Her glance flicked to Jisung’s chains, then back to Minho’s sleeves, like she was cataloguing details. “And Sungie’s… sparkles?”

Minho kissed her forehead. “Only if you make Sungie’s chains extra sparkly.”

“Deal.” Very serious.

“Be good for, Minnie and Innie okay? We’ll see you in the morning.” Jisung knelt down in front of her to give her a quick kiss of his own and grab their overnight bag. “Call us if anything happens.” Was directed at the babysitters.

Chan kissed Felix’s cheek, hand on the small of his back like he couldn’t stop himself. Hyunjin hooked a finger in Changbin’s necklace to pull him close and fix the line of his jacket with unnecessary intimacy as he towered over his mate; Changbin’s ears went pink to the tips. Felix twirled once so the pearl chains sang; Chan’s pupils dilated like a technical glitch. Seungmin—menace that he was—whispered, “Eyes up, grandpa,” as he slid a granola bar into Chan’s pocket without asking.

“Go win something,” Jeongin said, leaning in the doorway with the confidence of someone who wasn’t about to be left alone with 4 toddlers and an 8 month old. “We’ll keep the little ones alive.”

“Don’t teach them to roast me on camera,” Chan begged.

“Too late,” Seungmin and Jeongin said together.

🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹

The limo eased to a purr and stopped. For a heartbeat, the roar outside was just a vibration in the leather—like thunder trying to seep in. Then the door cracked and winter knifed through the warm dark.

“Coats,” their manager said, already half inside the car with a garment bag stretched between his hands. “You will not ruin all the stylist work by hiding it. I’ll have them waiting at pickup.”

Felix made a tiny, operatic noise and peeled his off like it was a layer of skin. “I regret all of my choices.”

Hyunjin sighed as if composing an obituary for his own comfort and shrugged out of his trench, red chiffon glowing in the dim light. “Art requires sacrifice.”

Minho’s fingers found the lapel of his and paused. Jisung felt the hesitation—the instinct to stay hidden—then watched him square his shoulders and slide the coat free. The handler gathered their offerings like tribute. For one ridiculous second, Jisung thought: Coat gods. Please accept the Omegas pain in exchange for good photos.

“Ready?” Chan asked quietly.

The door swung wide. Noise and light detonated.

Chan went first—because he always did—one boot down and then the other, unfolding to full height before he turned back and extended a hand. Felix slipped his smaller one into it, and when he stepped out the crowd’s pitch went feral: black hair in soft waves, cropped silk catching every flash, the pearl chains crisscrossing his bare back throwing light like shrapnel. Chan didn’t release him until Felix’s heels found steady ground; his other hand hovered at Felix’s lower back as handlers waved them toward the step-and-repeat.

Changbin followed, broad and deliberate, the mesh sleeves of his jacked tightening with every movement of his arms. He pivoted back into the limo and lifted his palm. Hyunjin set his hand there, red pooling and then spilling as he unfolded himself from the seat, heels clicking like punctuation. Photographers yelled both names; Bin didn’t move until Hyunjin’s garment was clear of the door. If he wasn’t so nervous the height difference of the pair would have him burst out laughing. The already short Alpha made shorter by his mates heels.

My turn. Jisung thought to himself. Trying to brace for the inevitable.

The cold scraped Jisung’s throat as he scooted to the edge of the seat. He planted one foot on the carpet, turned, and held a hand into the dim. Minho’s fingers slid into his—cool from the air but steady—and then he was outside too, coatless and devastating. The cropped wrap top and high waist made clean lines of him; the fabric had that restrained shimmer that only showed when the flashes hit just right. It was obscene how quickly it emptied Jisung’s lungs.

“Stop staring,” Minho murmured without moving his mouth, adjusting the fall of his sleeve.

“Can’t,” Jisung answered, honest and doomed.

The handlers fanned them into formation and the press line woke up like a beast.

“3RACHA! Over here!”

“Chan—this way!”

“Jisung! New project when can we expect it?”

“Changbin—hit that angle!”

Names hurled like pebbles, mostly theirs. Felix got dragged into it by sheer gravity—he sparkled too loudly to ignore. Minho and Hyunjin drew lenses but not many questions; they were gorgeous punctuation on the sentence everyone wanted to read.

Jisung stepped where the handler pointed, shoulders back, chains cold against his collarbones, cocky smirk playing across his face in a feigned confidence. He kept Minho half a step closer than necessary. The flash rhythm was a strobe—white, white, white—until faces went starry and the backdrop logos burned into his eyelids. He hated this part. The performative smile, the shouted questions that all sounded like demands. His pulse stuttered.

Minho’s knuckles brushed his. Not a look—just contact. Here.

Breathe in. He tried.

A reporter yelled something about collaborations. Jisung answered on autopilot, a practiced grin, a vague tease. The next photographer barked, “Jisung, eyes on me!” He turned—and then got caught watching Minho instead. Not a quick glance. A full, helpless look like gravity had shifted and Minho was the only thing keeping him grounded. Minho’s eyes narrowed a fraction. The corner of his mouth betrayed him anyway, threatening a smile.

Jisung didn’t look away fast enough. A camera popped at the exact second Minho reached up and—like it was nothing—brushed a thumb along Jisung’s cheekbone to tilt his face toward the lenses. The press wall howled. He felt the moment freeze in the air; knew in his bones it would be on every fyp by midnight.

“Changbin, over here—flex for us!” someone shouted, feral with it.

Bin obliged with a half-turn that pulled the mesh tight over his arm, jacket falling open just a bit to show the low neckline of the tank he wore underneath, a little cleavage popping out as well. Too many eyes lingered, one pair in particular letting his gaze drag like a hand.

Hyunjin saw it. Of course he did.

He slid in until hip met hip, draped an arm over Bin’s shoulder, and set his palm brazenly against the curve of pec, fingers squeezing just enough to make Bin’s eyes blow wide and musky scent flare. Hyunjin smiled like sugar dissolving on the tongue and said, clear enough for a dozen mics to catch, “You can look all you want, but he’ll be fucking me tonight.”

The carpet imploded.

Flashes went nuclear. A chorus of “Excuse me?!” and “Say that again!” tore down the line. Bin made a noise that might have been a swear or a prayer. Felix folded, laughing so hard his pearls rattled. Minho put a hand over his face like he’d been personally punished by the gods. And Chan tried to paste order on chaos—“Okay,okay…let’s keep moving, questions about the nominations, please…”— while physically shepherding them a few feet down before Hyunjin could add a footnote.

They hit the sponsor wall. More poses. More instructions. Turn shoulders. Tilt chin. Together—now singles. 3RACHA center, mates to the sides. Jisung did all of it, heat crawling under his skin, heartbeat trying to climb his throat. Every time it crested, Minho found his hand. Never the big gestures—just a squeeze, a brush, an anchor. Enough to make the roar outside their bubble fade half a step.

“Last frame!” the handler called, relief audible. “Then we’re going in.”

They gave the carpet one final pose. Hyunjin lifted his chin like a dare. Bin’s mouth settled into the ghost of a smirk. Felix turned so the pearls mapped constellations down his spine looking seductively over his shoulder. Chan looked like he could bear the weight of the building if asked. Minho… glowed. Jisung didn’t have a better word.

The handler chopped the air. They broke formation and let themselves get swept toward the theater doors, the noise thinning into echoes on polished stone. Just before the lobby swallowed them, Jisung felt Minho’s fingers find his again, sliding along his palm like a promise.

“Better?” Minho asked under the crowd.

Jisung let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Getting there.”

“Good.” A tiny, private smile. “Keep your eyes forward. You can stare later.”

“I’m counting on it,” Jisung said, and somehow, finally, he could breathe.

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

After everyone else left, Seungminnie suggest they all make a fort in the living room so they could watch the award show later ‘In style’, whatever that meant. She just thought it would be really cool that Bunny and Sungie would be on the tv! She never met anyone that had been on tv before.

Hinano helped stack blankets and pillows all over the big living room between the two sides of the couch that made a u shape around it. It almost looked like the nests her and Bunny would make.

By the time they were finished Innie-samchon brought in a pizza and some soda for them opening the box and setting it down in front of them.

“Alright kiddos, dinner is served!”

“Innie we can’t eat in the living room! It’ll get dirty! We don’t even have any plates.” Bunny had always told her that tables were for eating and living rooms were for relaxing.

The fox eyed man winked at her,“It’s a special occasion I think we can make an exception. I won’t tell if you won’t.” Hinano bit her lip, she wanted to be good but the pizza smelled really yummy too. Minnie-samchon knelt down beside her.

“Don’t worry, you won’t get in trouble. I promise. Don’t you want to watch everyone?”

Hinano nodded her head and slowly—ever so slowly—picked up a piece of the cheesy goodness taking a small bite out of it as the television turned channels.

The living room was so bright from the big TV it made Moo look like she had a funny glow. Hinano hugged her close on the rug; her blanket wrapped around her like a cape. Jin-ae was leaning heavy on her shoulder, almost falling asleep again, but her eyes were big and shiny at the screen.

There they were. Bunny and Sungie and Binnie-samchon and Channie-samchon and Lixie-imo and Hyune-imo too! All sparkly and shiny like the princes and princesses in Jin-ae’s books. The cameras were flashing so much it looked like stars were falling all around them. They looked even prettier than when they left earlier!

“Wow,” Jin-ae exclaimed, sitting up a little more now.

“Minho-imo is so pretty!” Jung-seok looked like he had stars in his eyes as he stared at Hinano’s Bunny. But she didn’t mind, pride welled up in her chest. That was her family. Her Bunny and Sungie.

Jang-ho pushed his brother lightly, but enough to almost tip him into the pizza. “Eomma looks pretty too! And look at Channie-samchon he looks like the cool bad guy from a superhero movie!”

“Alright kids they all look great let’s settle down.” Seungmin wiped sauce off the rowdy boys faces while Innie just came and sat behind Hinano, long legs fanned out around her.

Then it happened. Hyunjin-imo smiled like he was about to tell a secret and said a big, loud word. A bad word.

The whole room went quiet. Even Moo.

Jang-ho blinked. “What’s… fuh-king mean?”

Hinano gasped so big it made her chest hurt. He wasn’t supposed to say it!

“Yeah, what’s fuggin?” his twin echoed louder, like it was the best riddle in the world.

Jeongin started choking on nothing. His ears went redder than strawberries. “Uh—it—it’s—it’s—um—” He looked at Seungmin with big scared eyes.

Seungmin almost dropped his drink. “It—it means—uh—it’s an adult word!”

“Why?” Jang-ho asked, all curious like when he found a bug outside.

“Because it’s rude!” Jeongin said fast. “Super rude! You don’t say it, ever, okay?”

Seungmin nodded so hard his hair jumped making him look like he had puppy ears. “Yeah. Your eomma was being rude. Very rude.”

The twins whispered it once under their breath, then snickered into their hands like they’d just stolen candy. Receiving a small swat in their bottoms for repeating it.

“I’m going to kill Hyunjin. We don’t get paid enough for this.” Minnie-samchon muttered into his hands making Jeongin scoff behind her, breath rustling her hair.

“We don’t get paid at all.”

Hinano hugged Moo tighter. She didn’t get it and she didn’t care. Her Bunny was smiling on the screen, Sungie too, even with all the scary bright flashes. That was the only part that mattered.

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

The handlers funneled them through the golden doors, and the world changed all over again. Gone was the crush of fans, the screaming and white-hot camera bursts. Inside, the air hummed with a different kind of pressure: velvet drapes muffling the walls, chandeliers dripping light onto crystal glasses, the low murmur of voices like a hive at work. The scent was overwhelming—cologne, hairspray, champagne. A hundred kinds all mixing together.

They were led down the central aisle, ushered to a table so close to the stage Minho could see the reflections of the spotlights in the lacquered floorboards. The kind of placement that said all eyes will be on you.

Jisung was tense at his side, shoulders too stiff. But the second a man in an immaculately tailored suit leaned over the aisle, grinning wide, everything in him shifted.

“3RACHA,” the man said, clapping Chan’s hand like an old friend. “Congratulations already. You’ve got this one in the bag.”

Chan’s smile was easy, polite. “We’ll see.” He tilted his head just enough to be respectful, not arrogant. Calm. Practiced.

Another producer slid in from behind. “Bin, that beat you laid down last year—still can’t get it out of my head. You’ve raised the bar, Seo-ssi.”

Bin’s grin sharpened. “What can I say? Gotta keep people on their toes.” His charisma landed like a hook, drawing laughter in his wake.

And then Minho’s jagi.

The conversation shifted to Jisung—questions about what was coming next, rumors of collabs. His spine lengthened, expression smoothing out into something poised. He didn’t stutter, didn’t rush. His voice was calm, low, steady. “We’ve been working hard. You’ll hear it when it’s ready.” The words carried weight, subtle authority. Not the Jisung who vibrated through anxiety on the carpet. This was Producer Han. Cool. Collected. In control. Sexy as hell.

Minho’s chest swelled. “That’s mine,” he thought, absurdly possessive. “That’s my mate.”

They finally slid into their seats. Felix sat beside Chan, Hyunjin tucked against Bin downing his second glass of champagne in as many minutes, and Minho took his place at Jisung’s side, close enough their shoulders brushed with every breath.

The lights dimmed. The show began.

Performances glittered across the stage, dancers flooding the aisles, singers belting notes high enough to rattle the ceiling. Minho clapped with the rest, but his eyes kept darting sideways to Jisung—how he clapped politely, how he leaned into Minho’s shoulder when the lights flared too bright. Grounding. Always grounding each other.

Then came their category.

“Best Production Team in Contemporary Music…” The presenter teased the envelope, the audience leaning forward like a tide. “Step Out Entertainment!”

The cheers were instant. Felix shrieked like he’d won it himself, Hyunjin clapped so hard the rings on his fingers snapped together with each strike, and Minho’s chest ached from how proud he was.

Jisung squeezed his leg under the table before slipping free, and then the three of them were on their feet, heading for the stage.

Minho couldn’t take his eyes off Jisung.

Chan spoke first, voice smooth, warm, thanking their employees, their fans, their pack. Bin followed, humor laced into gratitude, making the crowd laugh and cheer. And then Jisung—

Chains across his chest glinted under the spotlight, but it was his voice that stunned the room. Calm. Confident. “We’re honored to be here. Music is about connection—it’s about building something bigger than ourselves. None of this happens without the people who believe in us, and without the family we’ve built around us. Thank you for trusting us. And we hope you stick around to see what we come up with next.”

The applause that followed was different. It wasn’t just loud. It was heavy, reverent.

Minho’s throat burned and it wasn’t because of his own glass of bubbly.

When they came back down, Jisung slid into his seat with his hand brushing Minho’s thigh again, grounding himself. Minho didn’t say a word. He just held on, pride radiating through him like it would crack his chest open.

More awards were announced Best Dance Performance—Minho wanted one of Step Out’s groups to be up there soon—Best Music Video, Best New Artist.

Then the biggest category arrived. At least the biggest one to them.

“And the Daesang award goes to…” The envelope tore. The presenter grinned. “Aurora.”

The rookie group from Step Out screamed like they’d been set ablaze, hugging each other as they stumbled up the steps in a tangle of sequins and tears. Minho clapped until his hands stung, smiling at their joy.

And then—

“We wouldn’t even be here without the people who believed in us first,” the leader said, voice shaking with nerves. “3RACHA—our hyungs, our mentors—we want you up here with us!”

The room exploded.

Minho’s applause faltered. He turned to Jisung, who blinked wide-eyed, stunned. Chan and Bin were already standing.

“Go,” Minho whispered, voice rough. His hand brushed Jisung’s knee. “Go, jagi.”

Jisung’s jaw set. He rose.

The rookies bowed as 3RACHA joined them, mics trembling in their hands.

“You taught us what hard work looks like,” one member blurted, tears streaking his cheeks. “Chan-hyung, you pushed us until we thought we’d break—but you made us better.”

The audience laughed, clapped. Chan ruffled his hair, grinning.

“Bin-hyung—” another said, “you brought snacks to every practice and told us it was okay to fail, as long as we got back up. We never forgot that.”

Changbin smiled and the audience melted.

“And Han-hyung…” The maknae’s voice cracked. “You told me… you told me once that even if my voice shook, it still mattered. That it was worth hearing. I think about that every day.”

The room went quiet, hushed like a church. Cameras swung to Jisung, face flushing in embarrassment even through all the layers of makeup, but lifted the mic anyway.

“Sometimes the hardest thing is believing in yourself,” he said, steady as stone. “But you did. That’s why you’re here. This is your moment, not ours. Thank you for letting us be part of it.”

The applause nearly lifted the roof.

Minho’s vision blurred. Felix was wiping at his eyes with both hands. Hyunjin muttered something but his jaw was tight. Minho just sat there, chest burning, watching his jagi stand tall and unshaken under the lights.

When 3RACHA came back down, the rookies still crying behind them, Minho caught Jisung’s hand under the table and didn’t let go.

“You,” he whispered, pride breaking in his voice. “You were perfect.”

Jisung squeezed back, his smile small but real.

And Minho—sitting there with applause still echoing around them—knew he’d never been prouder in his life.

🐹🐹🐹After Party🐹🐹🐹

The roar of the crowd was still echoing in Jisung’s chest as they filed out of the auditorium, award clutched in Chan’s hands, flashes going off behind them. His head was light, his body humming, pride and champagne already mixing in his blood.

Chan swung the heavy door open and glanced back at them, grin wide enough to split his face. “After party? Already got us rooms at the hotel.”

There was no hesitation. Bin barked a laugh, Felix clapped, Hyunjin raised both hands like he was already halfway gone and with how much champagne he had to drink that was a very good possibility. Jisung—who was buzzed but not yet drunk— only had time to exchange a quick, thrilled look with Minho before the cool night air hit them and the limo pulled up, glossy and waiting.

By the time they slid inside, Hyunjin had plastered himself to Changbin. Not just leaning — full on knees on either side of his hips, mouth pressed against Bin’s throat like he was starving. Jisung rolled his eyes with a smirk as Hyunjin’s hand disappeared under Bin’s mesh jacket, tracing shamelessly over his chest.

“Hyune—” Bin tried, already pink to his ears and creeping down the part of his chest not covered.

“Mmm,” Hyunjin hummed against his skin, teeth grazing. “Don’t talk. Just—stay.”

Jisung snorted and looked away, but not fast enough to miss the way Bin’s throat bobbed when Hyunjin’s mouth latched on to the mating mark there.

“Jesus Christ at least wait until you’re alone,” Chan muttered, dragging a hand down his face. Felix only laughed, eyes bright, and leaned forward from where he perched across the limo.

“Let him. Hyunjin’s been drooling over him all night. I’m surprised he waited until we weren’t in front of cameras.”

Bin made a strangled noise that was definitely not a protest, and Hyunjin only tightened his hold, looking smug as hell.

The hotel loomed up soon after, glass and gold and too much glitter and Jisung was glad for the distraction. Inside, the ballroom was already alive: lights low, bass heavy, drinks flowing. Jackets were shed, ties loosened, laughter spilling out everywhere.

Chan steered Felix toward the bar, muttering something about water, but Felix leaned forward over the counter, back bare under pearl chains, and Jisung actually saw Chan choke on his own drink. Felix only smirked, whispered something in his ear, and Jisung looked away fast before he overheated on their behalf.

But then Minho was in front of him, one hand held out, eyes dark in the shifting lights. “Dance with me, jagi.”

Jisung’s pulse skipped. He let himself be pulled onto the floor, bodies pressing close in the crush of sound and motion. Minho slid in like he belonged there — hip to hip, chest to chest, head tilted just enough to murmur filth right into his ear.

“You’ve been staring at me all night,” Minho whispered, and his hand slid lower, teasing. “Everyone else is watching too. You want them to see how much you want me?”

Jisung groaned, forehead tipping to Minho’s shoulder, heat punching straight through his gut. Every brush of Minho’s insanely thick thigh between his had him harder, every grind of hips made him forget how to breathe.

“You’re—fuck, Min,” he hissed, trying to pull back, only to be dragged in closer.

Minho smirked against his skin. “Can’t hide it. Not from me.” His breath was hot, his hand bold as it skimmed Jisung’s waistband. “You’re already hard for me, aren’t you?”

Jisung cursed, low, desperate, because Minho was right and the music, the lights, the heat of the room was too much. He tried to angle them away from sight, but Minho only pressed closer, practically purring.

“Let’s go,” Minho said finally, voice gone rough. His lips brushed Jisung’s ear. “Now, jagi. Upstairs.”

That did him in. He grasped Minho’s hand and let them through the crowd.

    The door slammed behind them, and Jisung didn’t even bother with the lights. He pushed the omega’s back against the wall, his mouth finding Minho’s in a clash of teeth and tongue, hungry and desperate.

He’d been achingly hard since the dance. Now he finally had Minho pressed against him, body hot, scent thick with need, and it was like every muscle snapped.

“Fuck, jagi,” he gasped against Minho’s lips, already tugging at the knot of his top. “Been waiting all night.”

Minho laughed, low and wrecked, head tipping back as Jisung mouthed down his throat. “You’re the one who kept staring at me like you wanted to eat me alive.”

“Because I did.” Jisung turned them shoving Minho toward the bed, hands rough on his hips. “Still do.”

Clothes came off in frantic tugs — Jisung’s blazer tossed somewhere, Minho’s pants unraveled with quick fingers, satin brushing down thick dancers thighs. Their mouths never stayed apart long enough to breathe.

And then Minho dropped to his knees.

“Min—” Jisung’s voice broke, head tipping back fingers grasping in his raven hair. The sight of his mate, beautiful and fierce, sinking down in front of him and mouthing over the straining bulge in his pants was enough to make his knees buckle.

“Want you messy,” Minho rasped, tugging him free. “Want you wrecked for me.”

The first wet slide of Minho’s mouth over him had Jisung’s vision going white. He choked on a moan, hips jerking, and Minho only hollowed his cheeks, taking him deeper, obscene and perfect.

Jisung didn’t last long like that. He dragged Minho up, kissed him hard, and shoved him back toward the bed. Minho sprawled back across the bed, hair messy, lips swollen, chest rising fast.

Jisung swore under his breath, climbing over him. “Look at you.” His hand slid down, gripping Minho’s cock — smaller, pretty, already wet at the tip — before dipping lower to the slick heat between his thighs. He groaned when his fingers came away soaked. “God, baby, you’re dripping. All for me?”

Minho arched, a broken moan tearing out of him. “Sung—”

Jisung bent to kiss him, swallowing every sound, then slid down between his legs. He licked a long stripe from cunt to cocklette, savoring the way Minho’s whole body jolted.

“Fuck—fuck!” Minho’s thighs snapped around his head, heels digging into his back. “Don’t—don’t tease—”

“Not teasing.” Jisung smirked against his skin, licking into him, tongue thrusting shallow before fucking into him deeply. Minho keened, loud, shameless. “Savoring.”

Jisung’s free hand stroked his cock at the same time, jerking him in time with his tongue. Minho was soaking the area around his mouth in his slick, whining, writhing.

“You’re so wet, baby,” Jisung murmured, voice muffled. “So loud. Let everyone in this hotel hear who you belong to.”

“Y-you,” Minho gasped, head thrown back. “Yours. Always—”

Jisung groaned and sucked harder, driving him up. Minho shattered minutes later, thighs clamping tight, scream ripping out of him as his cock spurted across his stomach and his pussy clenched hard around Jisung’s tongue.

He barely let him come down before sliding up and kissing him filthy, letting Minho taste himself.

“That’s one,” Jisung whispered against his mouth. “Still hard as fuck, baby. You gonna let me ruin you again?”

Minho’s eyes were glazed but his smirk was wicked. “What’re you waiting for?”

“On your knees.” His voice cracked with need, low and rough. “Now.”

Minho smirked, obeying, pushing his chest to the mattress leaving his ass up looking like sin incarnate. Jisung swore under his breath as he lined up and pushed in, cock sliding into that wet, clenching heat. Both of them groaned loud, Jisung’s head falling back.

“Fuck—you’re so tight,” Jisung gasped, hips already stuttering. “Min, you’re—fuck—you’re perfect.”

Minho dug his nails into the sheets around him, pussy suctioning him in deeper. “Harder. Don’t hold back.”

Jisung didn’t. He slammed into him, rough and relentless, each thrust dragging another moan, another broken plea from Minho’s throat. The bedframe banged against the wall, their cries tangled together.

“Wanna hear you scream,” Jisung growled, gripping Minho’s jaw, forcing his head back, making the arch of his body even deeper. “Let them all know you’re mine.”

“Yes!” Minho sobbed, cock bouncing with every thrust, slick dripping down his thighs. “Fuck, Jisung, please—”

Jisung came with a shout, buried deep, heat flooding into him. Minho cried out at the stretch, at the rush of warmth, back arching, his own cock spurting untouched again.

But Jisung wasn’t done.

He flipped them, dragging Minho on top, hands steadying him as Minho gasped and clenched around him. “Ride me, baby. Show me how greedy you are.”

Minho moaned but obeyed, sliding down his cock again, head tipping back as he sank all the way until plush ass met thighs. Jisung’s vision blurred at the sight — Minho’s body glistening with sweat, thighs trembling as he bounced, pussy sucking him in over and over.

“Fuck—fuck, you’re so deep,” Minho cried, tears streaking his cheeks. “Too much—jagi please, I—”

“You can take it.” Jisung’s hand wrapped around his cock, stroking fast in time with his thrusts. “Give me one more, baby. Come all over me.”

Minho screamed when it hit, squirting messily, whole body shaking as he came again and again. Jisung lost it, spilling inside him a second time, groaning so loud it echoed off the walls.

But Minho was still twitching, still writhing. Jisung slid his fingers down, pushing two into his soaked pussy along with his dick, curling hard against his sweet spot.

“Too much!” Minho sobbed, thrashing, but his body clenched around him anyway, another orgasm ripping through him so hard his voice broke.

Jisung kissed him through it, swallowing every scream, until Minho collapsed against his chest, spent and trembling.

Silence filled the room again, only broken by their ragged breaths. The sheets were ruined, their bodies sticky and sore, but Jisung had never seen anything more beautiful than Minho, hair wild, lips swollen, eyes soft despite everything.

He pressed a kiss to his temple, still panting. “They’re gonna have to burn these sheets.”

Minho laughed weakly, voice hoarse. “Worth it.”

Jisung smiled into his hair, pulling him close. “Always.”

Chapter Text

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

The hotel room was soaked in soft gold, the kind of light that made everything look gentle—even the wreckage they’d made of the sheets. The curtains didn’t quite meet in the middle; a slip of city glitter cut across the carpet. The room smelled faintly of champagne and sex and clean hotel soap. Minho stretched and immediately regretted it.

“Ow,” he said into the pillow, voice ruined from the night before.

A lazy palm smoothed down his spine. “Don’t move,” Jisung rasped, amusement tucked into the edges of the words “Unless you’d like a repeat of last night that is.”

 Minho turned just enough to glare. That was unwise. Everything from his thighs to the tender bite along his collarbone lodged a formal complaint. He winced, then couldn’t help the small, traitorous smile that followed. “You’re insufferable.”

“Mm.” Jisung shifted closer, propping his head on an elbow, hair a disaster, mouth beautifully smug. The chain harness had been abandoned somewhere on the floor with Minho’s dignity. “And yet, you look very satisfied.”

Minho rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “If I say yes, will you fetch me water and an ibuprofen like a good mate?”

“I would do that even if you said no.” Jisung leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth, soft and easy, before sliding out of bed. He padded naked—nice view— to the minibar, swore at the price list under his breath, and grabbed two bottles anyway.

By the time Minho had swallowed the tablet and drunk half his water, his body had stopped shouting and settled for a sulky grumble. He watched Jisung move around the room—picking up a shirt, tossing it aside for the blazer, retrieving one sock from the lamp, discovering its mate under the ottoman like a victory. The sight shouldn’t have made his chest feel too full, but it did.

“What?” Jisung said, catching him looking.

“Nothing.” Minho let his eyes go soft on purpose. “Just…happy.”

That knocked some of the tease out of Jisung’s face. For a second, it was just them and the quiet: the kind you build, not the kind that just happens to you. Jisung came back to the bed and bent for a slower kiss. “Breakfast downstairs?” he asked when he pulled away. “Grease. Coffee. Witnesses to prove we survived.”

“God, yes.” Minho eased up to sit, hissed, and then—with great dignity—stood like nothing was wrong. “But you’re carrying the award if anyone asks to see it. I refuse to be the trophy mule.”

“Fine. I’m used to being the trophy husband anyway.” Jisung winked, then went looking for Minho’s shoes like a man on a mission.

They made themselves presentable—thank gods he had the foresight to bring backup clothes for them—and took the elevator to the lobby, which was doing its best impression of a post-battle field hospital for the very glamorous. Artists in last night’s eyeliner hid under sunglasses. Managers clutched triple-shot coffees. Two stylists argued tenderly with a curling iron and a fire alarm sign.

And then: their chaos, gathered like always.

Hyunjin was plastered to Changbin on a velvet banquette near the hotel café, long legs thrown across Bin’s lap, cheek tucked under his jaw. He looked soft and sated and proud of himself; Bin looked scandalized and also weirdly pleased to be used as furniture. Chan and Felix were in the corner by a sunlit window: Felix perched on the arm of Chan’s chair, head tipped back to laugh, one hand idly playing with the chain on Chan’s wrist. There was a second chair for Felix and he had ignored it on purpose.

“Morning,” Chan said, sounding more relaxed than he had in a while, thanks to his own mate no doubt. “You two alive?”

“Barely,” Jisung said cheerfully. “Min won’t admit he’s sore.”

“I am luminous and without flaw,” Minho said. “And hungry.”

Hyunjin didn’t even open his eyes. “I’d ask if you had a good night,” he said in that syrupy voice that meant trouble, “but I think the whole hotel heard.”

Color telescoped up Jisung’s neck. Minho pressed his lips together very hard to keep from smiling. “Bold words,” he said mildly, “from someone who attempted to merge with his Alpha on the ride home.”

Hyunjin cracked one eye. “Attempted? Sweetheart, I succeeded.”

Changbin groaned into his hands. “Please stop talking.”

“Can’t,” Hyunjin said sweetly, brushing Bin’s jaw with his thumb. “It’s in the public interest.”

Felix leaned forward, eyes glittering. “Let him be proud, Bin. At least he waited until you were in the hotel room and not just the lobby.”

“Thank you, Lix,” Hyunjin said, mock-polite.

Felix tipped his glass full of what was probably mimosa toward him. “Anytime.”

Chan exhaled through his nose. “Why do I let any of you out in public?”

“Mm. Not quite public,” Felix said, smiling wickedly. “Industry only. Which apparently means free reign.” He tipped his head at Minho and Jisung, eyes bright. “I’m surprised with you two.”

“I’m not after what I heard about the locker room at Step Out.” Hyunjin waggled his eyebrows with a laugh.

Chan set his coffee down with exaggerated care. “Bin was right,” he said firmly. “We should mind where we’re at and use our indoor voices and appropriate metaphors because I cannot afford to be blacklisted by yet another hotel.” Minho smiled slightly remembering the hotel Chan was speaking of. If he remembered correctly though that was totally Felix’s fault with his voyeurism kink and a hot tub.

Hyunjin nuzzled deeper into his mates' neck before nipping at it enough to leave a bright red mark just under their mating mark, humming contentedly as their name was called for their table.

When the server saw them, her eyes widened just slightly before she controlled her face. He imagined this place got a lot of celebrities on a regular basis but maybe she was new.

“Oh my god you—you’re 3Racha. Congratulations on your win! Uh I—um I’m sorry uh are you ready to order?” The group gave their orders with Chan, Changbin and Han—not Jisung to the public—signed a menu for her before handing it over to the blushing Omega as she went to give their order to the kitchen.

Felix leaned across the table, chin in his hand, looking devastating on purpose. “I would like to register a formal complaint,” he said sweetly. “Everyone keeps congratulating 3RACHA, which is deserved, but nobody has congratulated me on successfully switching hair colors with my mate and turning him into a silver fox.”

“You mean silver wolf,” Changbin muttered.

“Wolves don’t wear leather and lace,” Hyunjin said into Bin’s neck.

Chan pushed his sunglasses up his nose like a man reconsidering life choices. “I’m sitting right here.”

“You’re very handsome,” Felix told him, sincere and sharp all at once. “Especially when you’re trying not to combust.”

“I am not combusting.”

“You combusted last night, Daddy.” Felix used the same tone he used to comment on weather. “Multiple times.”

Chan inhaled coffee into his lungs. Hyunjin clapped like a seal, practically yelling “I fucking knew you had a daddy kink!”

While Changbin thumped Chan’s back, trying to be helpful and mostly making it worse. Jisung covered his face with his hands and laughed hopelessly.

Minho patted Chan’s shoulder, saintly. “There, there.”

“Felix,” Chan said once he could breathe, “please don’t say—”

“‘Daddy’ in public?” Felix asked, eyes batting innocently. “Why? Daddy loves it.”

Silence. Then violent, helpless laughter around the table. Chan covered his eyes with his palm and made a small, traitorous noise that sounded exactly like a man who had, in fact, loved it. Felix kissed his cheek and stole his coffee making a face once the bitter liquid hit his tongue.

Breakfast arrived in a procession of plates and steam. The table became a small war: forks fencing for the best hash browns, syrup decisions that rose to diplomatic incident, Hyunjin staging an armed annex of Bin’s bacon that ended with the big Alpha giving into his mate…as always.

Between bites, people came by to congratulate them. A veteran producer clasped Jisung’s hand and said something warm about longevity. A young arranger bowed to Bin so deeply his glasses slid down his nose. An idol from a senior group traded jokes with Chan and asked Minho if he’d lend a choreography consult next month. Minho watched them all with a quiet, private pride—the switches flipping on in his family like stage lights: Chan’s polished diplomacy, Bin’s charismatic bite, Jisung’s cool steadiness that the carpet hadn’t let him show.

Under the table, Jisung’s knee bumped his. Not by accident. Minho glanced over. Jisung’s mouth had softened into the small smile he only wore when everything made sense.

“What?” Minho asked as he started on his omelet.

“Oh I can’t just stare at my handsome husband?”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t.” Despite his words Minho could feel the heat rising in his cheeks then slither its way down his neck at the compliment. Sure, he knew he was conventionally attractive, but it always hit him different when Jisung told him.

“You know if you two didn’t get enough last night I can always keep Hina at ours for another night.” Felix, little shit that he was, just grinned at them. Minho threw a glare his way which just seemed to make the younger Omega’s smile get bigger.

The second carafe of coffee arrived—mimosa for Felix. Someone ordered more fruit…Hyunjin and the conversation devolved into a ridiculous debate about whether pancakes counted as a bread or a cake (Felix: cake; Chan: bread; Hyunjin: “sexy bread”; Bin: “what does that even mean”; Jisung: “both?”; Minho, sage: “a vehicle for syrup”). For a little while, time stretched slow and generous. They were allowed this: the hum of friendship, the tangle of found family, the luxury of being loud and loved in public.

When the check came, Chan tried to intercept it with the authority of an oldest child. Felix snatched it first and handed it to Minho with a flourish. “Last couple down pays the bill.”

“What your daddy got your wallet tied up as tight as you?” Minho said, taking it while Jisung and Hyunjin just peeled out a laugh. He slid his card into the folder and passed it back to the server, who gave him the look of a person who had seen everything and liked this brand of chaos the best.

“Real mature, Min.” Chan muttered without any real bite while Felix turned into his mate and exclaimed at the same time:

“Ooh we haven’t done bondage in a while!”

Changbin groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “I may never show my face in public with you guys again.” 

They stood, chairs scraping. Hyunjin slung himself across Changbin’s back gripping on like a glamorous koala; Bin just accepted his fate making sure he had a stable hold on his mates thighs. Chan looped an arm around Felix’s waist and tried very hard to look like a serious adult while Felix absolutely did not help by whispering no doubt filthy things into his ear. Jisung drifted to Minho’s side and laced their fingers together, thumb drawing small circles over Minho’s knuckles that soothed places he hadn’t realized were still tight.

For a moment, Minho almost didn’t want to move. The lobby was all gold and glass and their laughter. He wanted to live in that sound. But he also wanted Hinano’s bell like voice giggling around him.

“Ready?” Jisung asked softly.

Minho nodded. “Let’s go get our girl.”

They stepped toward the doors—and Minho’s pocket buzzed.

He glanced down, instinctively reaching. The screen lit his palm. A familiar name blinked up at him, neat and official.

Park Jiwoo

Minho’s breath hitched. Heat bled out of the morning, replaced by a small, precise cold.

Jisung felt it at once. “Who is it?”

Minho held up the phone, and it felt like showing a bruise. “Park-ssi.”

The lobby noise kept rolling around them—cups clinking, someone laughing—but it was far away now, like sound underwater. Jisung’s hand tightened around his.

“Come on,” Jisung said quietly. “Let’s take it outside.”

Minho nodded once, throat thick, and let himself be led.

🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹

The cold air outside hit like a slap of clarity.

Jisung hadn’t realized how loud the hotel had been until the door swung shut behind them and the hum of morning traffic took over instead — cars whispering down wet pavement, a delivery van idling somewhere close, the faint echo of their own breath in the chill early February air.

Minho still hadn’t moved. He stood a step towards the curb, shoulders drawn high, the phone hovering between his fingers like it might burn him.

“Hey,” Jisung said quietly, reaching out. “Let me.”

Minho blinked once, then handed it over.

Jisung pressed the answer key. “Han Jisung speaking.”

“Good morning, Han-ssi.” The voice on the other end was polite, soft — too careful. Park Jiwoo, the social worker who’d become both ally and harbinger. “I’m sorry to call so early. I wanted to make sure you received the update before the official notice goes out.”

“That’s fine,” he said automatically, glancing at Minho. “We’re awake.”

“Good. I just spoke with the presiding judge and my agency supervisor. The visitation order has been finalized. The meeting is scheduled for Friday, the 8th, at eleven a.m.”

Every syllable landed like a stone in water.

Jisung’s grip tightened on the phone. “And… the conditions?”

“It will be fully supervised. Dr. Lee and I will be present. Security will be stationed at the entrance of the center, and you’ll be allowed in the room the entire time. The mother has signed a compliance agreement and is under probationary review. She’ll be drug screened again the morning of.”

Jisung’s jaw clenched. “That’s supposed to make us feel better?”

“I know it doesn’t,” Park said gently. “I wish I could give you more. But legally, the visit has to happen. I’ll do everything I can to make it brief and controlled.”

He exhaled through his nose, letting the breath frost in front of him. “Thank you for calling us first.”

“I’ll send a confirmation email this afternoon. Try to keep things normal for Hinano until then — routine is going to help her.”

“We know.” His voice cracked just a little. “We’ll be ready.”

When the call ended, he just stood there for a moment, thumb pressed to the power button until the screen went black. The silence after the dial tone seemed to weigh double.

Minho’s eyes were on him — wide, searching, afraid of what he already knew.

“Well?” Minho asked, barely a whisper.

“Friday,” Jisung said softly. “The 8th. At eleven.”

“That’s…Ayen-ah’s birthday and a day before hers.” Minho’s breath hitched. For a heartbeat, Jisung thought he’d break — but then the Omega just closed his eyes, pulling in a long, steadying inhale. It didn’t stop the tremor in his hands. Jisung reached for him automatically, fingers sliding into his, grounding both of them in the cold morning air.

“And she’s not going to be alone with her right?”

“Never,” Jisung promised. He tugged him closer until their foreheads touched, warmth pooling between them despite the bite of the wind. “We’ll go together. We’ll end it together.”

Minho nodded, breathing in slow. The faintest shudder left him on the exhale. “Let’s just… get home to her.”

Behind them the doors opened again, letting out a rush of hotel warmth and chatter. Chan stepped out first, Felix tucked close under his arm. Changbin next, Hyunjin still plastered to his back, hair flying in the wind like a banner. The teasing from inside had drained off their faces; they knew something had shifted.

“What’s going on?” Chan asked quietly, scanning Minho’s expression. His tone had gone flat in that way he reserved for bad news.

Jisung kept his hand on Minho’s shoulder and forced his voice steady. “Park Jiwoo called. The visitation is set. Friday at eleven. Supervised, but…” He didn’t have to finish.

Felix’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “So soon.”

Hyunjin slid down from Changbin’s back and stepped closer, his usual theatricality muted. “How is she supposed to be okay with that right before her birthday?”

“She’s not,” Minho said, voice low and hoarse. “We just… we just have to keep her safe.” He didn’t look up, just kept his eyes on the pavement as if it might split and swallow the problem whole.

Changbin shifted, his hand landing on Minho’s shoulder for a second—solid, grounding. “Then that’s what we’ll do,” he said.

Chan nodded once, brisk and certain, and glanced at Jisung. “We’ll start putting calls in as soon as we’re back at the house. Lawyers, security, whatever you need.”

Felix slipped his fingers between Minho’s other hand, squeezing. “We’ll handle the noise,” he murmured. “You two just hold onto her.”

“Thanks.” Jisung started, “Park-ssi said they’ll have their own security present, but I’d feel better if we had ours there too.”

A van rolled up, black paint gleaming under the morning sun. The driver hopped out to open the door, murmuring a polite greeting none of them really registered. One by one they climbed in—Hyunjin and Changbin first, Chan guiding Felix with a steady palm, Jisung keeping a hand at Minho’s back.

Inside, the warmth and leather of the seats wrapped around them. The city blurred past the tinted windows, wet streets throwing back pale winter sunlight. Hyunjin curled into Changbin’s side and for once didn’t speak. Felix leaned his head against Chan’s shoulder, thumb rubbing small circles on the inside of his thigh.

Jisung sat next to Minho, their knees touching. He didn’t bother hiding the way he watched his mate—saw the fine tremor in his fingers, the way his jaw kept flexing like he was holding something in. Without a word, Jisung threaded their hands together and squeezed until Minho squeezed back.

For a long minute, nobody spoke. The only sound was the low hum of the engine and the city’s heartbeat outside. Then Chan cleared his throat. “We’ll sort this,” he said quietly, like a vow. “All of us.”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin added, voice low but fierce. “She’s ours. They don’t get to break her again.”

Jisung glanced at Minho. His mate’s profile was calm, almost too calm, but when their eyes met there was still a storm behind it. Jisung brushed his thumb over Minho’s knuckles again, grounding him the way Minho so often grounded him.

“We’ve got her,” Jisung murmured, just for him.

Minho’s breath caught, then steadied. “We’ve got her,” he echoed back, almost a whisper.

The van rolled on toward Chan and Felix’s house, carrying them all forward through the thin, cold morning.

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

Hinano was coloring when she heard the beep-beep-beep-click of the electric lock. Hinano felt it first in her chest, a little hop like a rabbit, then in her feet because she was already running before her brain caught up.

“Bunny!” she squealed, skidding across the entry way because the shiny floor was slippery on her socks. “Sungie!”

Bunny barely had time to drop his shoes before her weight collided with him. He made that small “oof” noise that always made her laugh and crouched so she could wrap her arms around his neck properly. Bunny smelled like home: warm barley tea and something green and clean, the scent that lived in the blankets on their couch and the sweaters folded in her drawer. Sungie pressed in a heartbeat later, his hand finding the back of her head, playful and careful at the same time.

“There’s my Flower,” Jisung said, his voice smiling. “Did you survive without us?”

“Barely,” she said into Bunny’s shoulder, the word all whiny and long because it made both of them laugh. She untangled herself just enough to beam up at them.

“But it was a very good sleepover. We had popcorn that Innie-samchon cooked in the big pan, not the microwave kind, and we watched the funny cat videos because Jin-Ae said the movie was too slow. And I didn’t say the bad word Hyune-imo said on tv even though Jang-ho said it like eight times. Maybe nine.”

From the living room, there was a tiny gasp that was not tiny at all. Hyunjin’s voice, scandalized and musical at the same time. “I did not— I— it was an accident! No one told me that mic was that sensitive.”

Changbin-samchon, sitting on the arm of the sofa with Jeong-seok climbing him like a tree, hid his face in his hand. “Hyunjin-ah,” he groaned softly, in that way that meant he was trying not to laugh. “Let this be a learning moment. You’re too jealous.”

“They shouldn’t look at what isn’t theirs.” Hyune-imo grumbled making Binnie laugh for real this time.

“Fug-king,” Jang-ho chirped, delighted with himself, and then he said it again. Too clear, too proud, slicing through the nice morning like a butter-knife thrown by a gremlin.

“Yah!” Three adults—Minnie, Binnie, and Hyune-imo—all snapped in chorus. Binnie-samchon’s eyes went huge and wounded, like he had personally failed the world. Seungminnie-samchon looked like he’d swallowed a lemon. Hyunjin covered Jang-ho’s mouth with one hand, scandalized beyond repair.

 “That is an adult word,” Hyune-imo said, cheeks pink. “It is a bad word. Eomma should not have said it either. I am very sorry.”

Binnie-samchon squeezed the bridge of his nose, then lifted a finger in a tiny lecture. “We’ll talk later,” he murmured to his twins, though he was very obviously talking to Hyunjin, too. His eyes slid to Hinano and softened. “Morning, squirt.”

Hinano gave him a big wave “Good morning Bin-Bin!”, then turned all her sunshine back to Bunny and Sungie. “Look!” She dug something out of the fuzzy pocket of her hoodie, the paper already soft at the corners from how many times she’d shown it to everyone. “I made you a drawing.”

Bunny took it from her hands and smiled but it wasn’t like his regular smile. This one seemed sort of…sad. Maybe he was just tired though. “This is beautiful, Flower.”

“It’s you and Sungie and everyone on the carpet! You were all so pretty! But you especially.”

That got a real smile from him this time and a kiss on the cheek for her. “Thank you. We’ll hang it on the fridge when we get home.”

Sungie leaned close, eyes shining. “And how did you get my harness that shiny?”

 “I used the sparkly pen!” Hinano announced, proud. “Not the glitter glue, the pen, I wanted to use the glue but Minnie-samchon said it might get too messy and get on the ceiling. I told him I’m a big girl and wouldn’t make a mess, but he said the pen would be better.” She inhaled a big breath.

“Wise Minnie,” Lixie-imo floated by just then, a soft O forming in his lips when he saw her. “What happened to your hair?!”

“Innie-samchon tried,” she whispered to the room, patting the braid kindly. “He’s not as good as you. But we used the blueberry hair-tie.” Lixie immediately went about fixing said braid. He was so fast too! It only took seconds compared to Innie struggling with it for forever.

“I did my best! Hair is hard…” Jeongin walked by with a funny look on his face, almost as if he were offended but smiled when Minnie-samchon kissed his cheek telling him he did a good job.

“It’s been a blast guys but these old bones are still tired and in desperate need of a soak. As much as we love you all I think it’s time for you to head out.”

“Is Chan hyung kicking us out?” Binnie-samchon gasped dramatically making her giggle as Bunny set her down to help her into her puffy coat and shoes.

“Tell Minnie and Innie thank you, Flower.” Hinano sidled up to them giving them each a big hug when they bent down.

“Thank you for taking care of me when Bunny and Sungie were gone.”

“Of course,” Seungminnie-samchon kissed her cheek before Innie took his turn adding with a wink, “Any time you want to stay with the cool uncles you just let us know.”

After a billion goodbyes to everyone else, Bunny and Sungie finally had her all strapped into her booster seat and made the drive home. The radio was on, but no one sang along like they usually did, and Hinano thought that was a little strange. Sungie kept a hold of one of Bunny’s hands as he drove and making funny faces at her when she caught his gaze in the rear-view mirror.

“Bunny, are you sad?” She finally asked when they were stopped at a light.

“No, sweetheart just tired.”

“Did Sungie snore too loud and keep you awake again?!” Sungie was known to snore so loud the whole apartment would shake!

Sungie turned around and tickled her legs the best he could making her squeal in delight. “I do not snore!”

Bunny snorted as the light turned green and he pulled into the car park for their apartment. “Jagi…you most definitely snore.”

“Don’t worry Bunny you can sleep in my bed with me tonight so you can get some rest.” Hinano stated, she always liked the cuddles they had.

“You know what, Flower? I just might.” He ruffled her hair as he unbuckled her from the seat and lifted her from the car.

When they made their way to the elevator to go up-up-up to their apartment she held on to both their hands, one of theirs in each of her own, and looked around. The elevator mirror made triples—three Hinano’s, three Bunny’s, three Sungie’s. Triple-safe. The elevator dinged open, and she pulled them toward their door.

“Can I put the code in this time?” She asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Bunny nodded and she pulled her hand free, sticking her tongue out in concentration as she expertly beeped in the numbers 0801, high fiving Sungie when the door lock clicked open.

“Way to go, Flower!” She beamed up at him as she sat in the entry way to take off her shoes, Bunny eventually helping wiggle the knot free. Hinano started to run to the kitchen to find the perfect spot on the big fridge to put her new masterpiece but before she could Sungie called her name.

“Hinano, can you come here for a moment?”  He was sitting on the couch where Bunny was piling up blankets—what they had taught her was nesting— and she tilted her head. Nests were meant to make you feel better when you were sick or worried right? When she got close enough, Bunny scooped her up and set her in the nest with her tucked inside the cradle of his crisscrossed legs facing his chest, a hand running soothing circles along her back.

“Flower,” Sungie said. Soft voice, softer than usual. “We need to tell you something important.”

Her stomach made the fizzy feeling again but she nodded anyway because she liked when they trusted her with big things, even if her heart was loud. It meant she was special to them. And she liked feeling special.

Bunny looked down at her, eyes soft and round and a little wet like he wanted to cry but wouldn’t. “Remember Park-ssi that’s helping us so we can keep you forever and ever?” Hinano nodded slowly, still not understanding what was happening but determined to be a big girl.

“And remember Dr.Lee and how she asked all those questions? Well, they talked to a very important man, a judge, who will be part of that decision.”

“Did he say I could stay?” Hinano asked excitedly. Oh, she really hoped he said she could stay!

“He wants to see one more thing before he makes that big decision, Flower. He—he said there has to be a visit. With your birth mother.”

The room tilted, not the furniture—just the air. Making her head feel funny and light, like when she sat in an onsen too long that one time and her grandma told her it was from the steam.

“No,” she said quickly, hard like tapping glass. “No.”

“We’ll be there the whole time,” Sungie rushed. “And so will Park-ssi and Dr. Lee. You won’t be alone with her for not one second.”

“No.” Her braid thumped her ear. “You promised I wouldn’t have to! You said—You said—” Words jammed behind her teeth. Hot tears filled her eyes. “You said you’d keep me safe!”

“And we will,” Bunny said. His eyes were shiny now, like glass under sunlight. “We will, Flower. I won’t let her hurt you.”

“Then don’t make me go.” Her voice cracked in the middle like that one plate Sungie dropped on accident. She thumped her hands in Bunny’s sweater, hitting his stomach until he let her go and she slid out of his lap to stand.

Sungie reached, but she darted away. She didn’t want to be held right now.

“It’s not fair!” she shouted. Sound bounced off the walls, and she blinked not realizing her voice could even get so loud. “You promised! I don’t—don’t—” Her foot finished for her, stomping once. The rug underneath her softening the blow.

Bunny’s hands hovered like he might try to catch her but wasn’t sure if he were allowed. “We have to do what the judge says so we can keep being your Bunny and Sungie forever. It’s one of the steps.”

“I don’t care about steps!” she yelled. “I don’t care about judges! I care about not seeing her!”

“Flower…” Sungie’s voice cracked.

“I hate her,” Hinano shouted, and the word hit the air like a rock in a pond, ripples everywhere. “I hate her and I hate this and I—”

Her breath stumbled. The room was too close. She stomped once more, socks catching on the edge of the rug as she ran. Hallway stretching and shrinking, door with the Sunflower door hanger waiting crooked and perfect.

Handle. Yank. Inside. Slam.

Boom. The sound filled the apartment. The Sunflower door hanger wiggled but stayed put.

She slid down the door until carpet met her knees. The room smelled like crayons and Sungie’s warm ginger and a ghost of Bunny’s scent from when he helped her make her bed the morning before they left for Lixie and Channie’s. Fingertips drew half-moons in the carpet. Outside, the house breathed: a couch creak, a sigh.

She pulled the blanket off the bed and then another and then her pillows and all her stuffies and made a nest on the floor. Her face was hot and wet; the salt tasted like ocean. She tried to shake out all the bad thoughts and feelings. Tried to not let this bring her back there. Back to the memories.

“I’m scared Moo.” She whispered to her cow, nibbling on her ear as the tears she couldn’t hold back fell down her cheeks.

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

Minho’s body moved before his thoughts did—half rising, fingers already reaching, scent spiking musty, like steeped leaves left out too long. The sunflower on her door still shivered with the intensity she shut the door. Jisung’s hand found his wrist and grasped gently, silently telling him to stay.

“Give her a little time, jagi. She needs a moment to calm down,” Jisung said, voice low, gentled at the edges. Warm, woody ginger slid under Minho’s sharper scent and smoothed it down.

Every instinct in him was pulled taunt, like a bow string. “She’s scared,” Minho said, though it wasn’t a sentence so much as a fact that lived in his lungs. “I need to…”

“I know.” Jisung’s thumb smoothed over his scent gland in an attempt to placate.

The apartment settled into a careful quiet. The TV blinking on for some form of normalcy. The nest on the couch was half-built from before—two blankets, one throw, the sweater he kept pulling into the pile without noticing—so Minho finished it because his hands needed something to do.

He fluffed, folded, tucked, then stood back and hated the symmetry and mussed it again because Hinano liked the edges loose where her toes could hide under it and he needed it perfect for her when she came back out.

He could hear her faint sobs through the walls. Breathing, hitched. He swallowed, mouth tasting like copper from when he bit his lip a little too hard to keep his own from tearing out his throat.

“Tea?” Jisung asked, already in the kitchen, already putting the kettle on because he knew from all their years together that the only thing that could settle Minho’s nerves when he was like this was a warm cup. He nodded.

He cleaned while the water warmed—not because anything was messy, but because motion kept him from breaking down. Shoes lined up by size. Coasters stacked. A stray hair-tie rescued from the floor and looped around his wrist. He opened the laundry and folded the basket that had been waiting from yesterday morning: small shirts, small socks, small underwear with lemon slices that didn’t line up no matter how carefully he met the seams. He set Hinano’s newest blanket—a strange combination of pink with green frogs—on the arm of the couch by reflex, then moved it to the nest, then moved it back to the couch before ultimately deciding it belonged in the nest.

Jisung brought him a cup, making sure he actually grabbed it before letting it go. A soft slide from behind the door. He breathed through his teeth and let the steam of his tea fog his eyes hoping for it to open. Jisung pressed a kiss to his shoulder and let his weight rest there for one heartbeat, then another. “Shower,” he murmured.

“Don’t leave me right now, I—“ he didn’t want to say he was vulnerable, didn’t like the way word sat on his tongue but Jisung just kissed him again.

“Five minutes. If she comes out, you’ll know what to do.” Would he? Maybe.

Minho nodded anyway then stood when Jisung went into the bathroom. He drifted in a slow orbit between hallway and couch, checking the sink that was already clean, opening and closing the fridge just to see if there was anything inside that looked like comfort. There was half a container of strawberries, a stubborn heel of cabbage, the gochujang tin winking red from the door. A few carrots begging to be either used or thrown away.

When he heard the shower start, a watery hush behind the bathroom door. Minho went back to stand at the edge of the hall and counted the stitches on the runner, pretending that he wasn’t waiting. Nine across. Twelve down.

The latch on her door made a tiny click and Minho’s heart thudded in his chest, breath catching.

Moo came first—a soft black ear appearing at shin-height as the door opened just a little, then a little more, then enough for a small face. Hinano’s eyes looked too big in the dim light, rimmed red, lashes clumped where tears had dried. Her braid had slumped into something that wasn’t a braid anymore. She didn’t look at Minho’s face right away. She looked at his hands, then the nest, then his hands again, like she was choosing where to put herself.

“Hi, Flower,” he said, letting his voice land softly around them. He set one knee down, making himself smaller. He pinched his own scent back until it wasn’t so overwhelming.

She walked the last three steps without speaking and tucked herself into him like a puzzle piece that knew its outline by memory. Moo came with her, pressed between them. Minho sat back on his heels and gathered the whole of her—sweatshirt, small knees, fuzzy mismatched socks, hot cheeks—under his chin. She shook once, and the tremor crossed into him like static and then it was gone. He breathed and let her breathe with him; after two breaths, they were matching.

“I’m sorry,” she said, voice small and hoarse, the words wrinkled like paper crumpled and smoothed again.

“You don’t have to be sorry.” His mouth was close to her hair, speaking into braid-frizz. He didn’t pet, didn’t shush. His palm only rested on the back of her head, trying his best to be as comforting as possible.

“But I shouldn’t have yelled,” she said, words squeezing through. “I—” Her breath hitched. “I didn’t want to be mean to you. Or Sungie.”

“You weren’t mean,” Minho said. “You were loud. Loud is not mean. Loud is a way out when the feeling is too big.” He felt the way she tested that with her shoulders, like a tongue on a loose tooth. He kissed the crown of her head once, then tucked his nose there and let a thin ribbon of scent loose—a home-scent, a you’re-safe scent.

She sniffed and shifted deeper, almost inside his sweater now—when did that happen? “I don’t want to go.”

“I know.” He whispered into her hair. “We will make it as short as possible. Park-ssi will be there. Dr. Lee will be there. Sungie and I will be there. You won’t be alone with her. Not even for a blink.”

“Not even for a blink,” she repeated into his shirt.

He felt her mouth move against the fabric, like she was practicing the shape of safety. He swallowed. “Do you want a way to throw the big feeling next time,” he asked, “that doesn’t have to be yelling?”

She was quiet long enough that he could hear the bathroom water change pitch and then cut. “Maybe.”

“We can make a stomp spot,” he offered, nodding toward the rug. “Or we can have a pillow we shout into so only the pillow knows. Or we can draw the mad on paper and rip it up after. Or—”

“What’s a stomp spot?” she asked, sniffling once.

“It’s a spot just for you where you can go and just stomp away until all the big feelings leave your body.”

“Stomp spot,” she decided, quick, a small flash of sun through cloud. “And ripping paper.”

“Deal.” He let the word sit, simple as a handshake. “And when you want me to be close, you tug my sleeve. When you want me to be near-but-not-touching, you put Moo between us and that’s my sign. When you want a nest, you say ‘cave’ and I’ll make one, even if we are in the grocery store and we look silly.”

A noise that was almost a laugh pushed against his collarbone. “You won’t be embarrassed?”

“I am a grown man who keeps emergency stickers in his wallet,” he said gravely. “I do not embarrass.”

Her head tipped back so she could look up at him, eyes clearer now. “You have stickers right now?”

He nodded solemnly and fished the small sheet out—stars and a sleepy rabbit. She considered them like a jeweler. “Later,” she said. “For not yelling next time.”

“Later,” he agreed.

Steam whispered behind the bathroom door and then the soft thud of it opening. Jisung padded out, towel around his neck, hair damp and messy. He took in the shape on the floor—their shape—and his shoulders fell in a way that seemed relieved. He crouched to them, slid one palm over Hinano’s back and the other over Minho’s knee. He breathed in, smiled tiny. “Smells better in here already.”

Hinano pressed her ear to Minho’s heartbeat and spoke sideways to Jisung. “We’re going to make a stomp spot,” she announced, important. “And rip paper. And a secret emergency nest word.”

“Powerful plan,” Jisung said, very serious. He kissed the top of her head and then Minho’s temple and then stole Moo’s other ear to nibble until she squeaked and snatched the cow back, scandalized.

The worst of the storm had passed. What was left was tired and tender.

“What do we think about dinner?” Jisung asked, settling on the edge of the nest. “I can call for something, or—”

“Dak-galbi,” Hinano said, immediate.

Minho’s mouth tugged without his permission. “We have some cabbage,” he counted quietly, “but we’ll need green onion, sweet potato, rice cakes, gochugaru… chicken thighs… garlic… maybe perilla if we can find fresh.”

“And cheese,” Jisung added. “For the end. To make it nice and stretchy and fun.”

Hinano’s eyes widened. “Cheese dak-galbi.”

“Only if the assistant chef agrees to taste-test,” Jisung said solemnly.

“I am the best taste-tester in Seoul,” she informed him, dignity restored.

Minho set her back on her feet but didn’t let go of her hand. “Coats,” he said. “Small cart at the store if you promise not to race it.”

“I will not race it,” she said, already bouncing. Then, conspiratorial, “I might walk it very fast.”

He pretended to consider. “Very fast walking is legal.”

Jisung helped with shoes—the good bunny-ears knot—and tucked Moo into Hinano’s hoodie making her giggle again. That sound was music to his ears.

Chapter Text

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

Minho woke up first. He always woke up first but this was different, because he never really went to sleep. This day was too heavy on his mind for that. He took a run—because he’s been severely lacking in that part of his morning routine—he showered, brushed his teeth and was now trying to figure out what to make for breakfast when Jisung yawned sleepily behind him, giving him a small kiss on his neck.

“Good morning, jagi.” Jisung hummed softly at him before moving over to where Hinano was now sitting, whisper of a crayon on paper as Hinano decorated the last corner of Jeongin’s birthday card with too many star stickers.

“Morning.” Minho moved through the space he knew by muscle memory, setting bowls, turning down the heat under a pan as if by instinct, stepping around Jisung without looking up because they never had to. Every small motion said the same thing: today is ordinary. Today is ours.

“You want milk, Flower?” he asked, because he needed to say something.

Hinano nodded, chin hovering a millimeter over her card. Her backpack sat open beside her chair, its mouth gaping with pencil case and a folded sweater with the little frog patch Minho had stitched back on for the third time, threatening to spill out.

Minho slid a sealed bento into the bag with the same care he used on fragile props and injured dancers. His eyes were quiet, steady. If Jisung felt the taut wire underneath that steadiness, he didn’t pluck it. Not yet.

“Can I see?” Minho asked Hinano, tapping the corner of the card.

She held it up, proud: Jeongin as a stick figure with just lines for eyes, two dots for dimples and a hat that said INNIE in block letters. On the inside, in a careful, awkward hand Jisung had guided last night: Happy birthday, Innie-samchon!!!! The sticker sheet had surrendered a galaxy for him.

“He’ll love it,” Jisung said. “He’ll say you drew his dimples perfect.” Hinano beamed and stabbed another star into the corner. Minho smiled then leaned down to kiss the top of her head, and the sound she made—half laugh, half hum—tucked itself under his ribs, exactly where he needed it for later.

“Alright, Flower,” Minho said lightly, setting the juice down. “Brush your teeth, then get dressed. We’ve got, what, nine minutes before your ride turns into a pumpkin?”

“Nine and a half,” she corrected, sliding off the chair. She padded down the hall, bare feet whispering over the runner.

In the bathroom mirror’s fogless rectangle, Hinano made a face at her foamy mouth and scrubbed with the seriousness of a person polishing a jewel. Minho leaned on the doorframe, counting in his head—one hippopotamus, two hippopotamus—until she spat, rinsed, and presented a minty grin for inspection. He tapped her nose. “Approved.”

Back in her room, sunlight laid a thin stripe over the rug. Two pairs of socks waited on the bed like contestants; she stood between them, hands on hips, considering the moral implications of glitter vs stars as it was the only part of her school uniform she could control. Minho held up a brush and elastics looped over his wrist.

“Hair engineer on duty,” he announced. “Menu of services: single braid, two braids, space buns, dragon tail, emergency pony.”

“I want braids like Jin,” Hinano said promptly, as if she’d been thinking of it all morning.

“Two Dutch for our fan girl then,” he agreed, patting the chair. “You choose the part.” Minho just chuckled, Hinano had insisted on going to Jin-Ae soccer try-out earlier in the week and while she was more of an artist than an athlete, cheered her best friend on harder than anyone.

She took the comb and made an earnest, slightly crooked line. Minho didn’t fix it; he rewarded the attempt with a soft “nice.” He sectioned her hair with quick, sure hands and started in, fingers moving with that quiet rhythm he carried into everything—kitchen, dance pratice, home. Hinano’s shoulders dropped as the pattern took hold. Minho saw the way her eyes went unfocused in the mirror, not sleepy, just calm, and nearly cried at the soft contented sigh that left her.  

When Minho tied off the second braid, he held the elastic on his finger for a beat, offering. “Purple or blue?”

She considered. “Blue to match Innie’s hat.”

“Blue it is.” He secured it, then let the braids fall over her shoulders. “Go check. Tell me if they’re sisters or cousins.”

Hinano peered at herself and nodded solemnly. “Sisters.”

“Twins,” Jisung added.

They returned to the kitchen for the last sip of juice and a final card audit. Then came the coats-and-mittens hunt, which was less a search and more a ritualized comedy: one mitten hiding inside its sibling, the scarf draped regally over a chair as if auditioning for a different family, a hat discovered sleeping in the fruit bowl. Hinano narrated the reunion of each item like a nature documentary she and Jisung would watch to help them fall asleep.

“And here,” she breathed, “we see the rare mitten emerging from its cave.”

“Startling,” Jisung said in the same ridiculous narrators voice making Minho roll his eyes fondly. “Get it before it migrates.”

She hopped into her boots, thumped heels to settle them, and patted all her pockets like a pilot before takeoff. “Card,” she said, holding up Jeongin’s masterpiece. “Backpack. Snack. Tissues. Brain.”

“Five essentials, but I think we should leave Innie’s card at home so we don’t lose it, don’t you?” Minho asked, slinging the backpack onto her shoulders and smoothing the straps.

“You’re right.” She patted the card as she laid it back down on the little table by the door.

They left the apartment in a little procession. The hallway smelled faintly of someone else’s coffee and winter wet wool. Minho keyed in the code, hearing the familiar click from the lock engaging before they headed down the hallway. In the elevator, Hinano stood between them and rocked on her heels, humming, the braids swinging forward like parentheses framing her cheeks.

The school drop-off lane was a cheerful tangle of cars and waving gloves. A crossing guard in a reflective vest saluted them with two fingers; the vice-principal pointed at a line of painted paws on the pavement as if they were brand-new and not been doing the same routine for a few months now. Minho parked quickly and tried his best not to think about what would come later that day. It was just another day where she was going to school. That was all. He had her backpack in his hand as they exited the car; Hinano threw her arms around Jisung’s middle first a small squeeze —quick, decisive—then pulled Minho into one with a longer, lingering squeeze that knocked his breath half-sideways. She smelled like toothpaste and something that was just Hinano, bright and warm.

“Have the best day,” Jisung murmured, smiling cheekily. “We’ll pick you a little after lunch okay?” Hinano scrunched her nose, knowing what it meant but nodded anyway.

Two girls at the gate screamed her name like she’d been at sea for months; Hinano ran toward them a bright smile one her face, then turned around with a quick “Love you!” Before heading inside with them.

They stood there until she vanished completely from their sight, the school doors closing to start the day. Jisung slid his hand into the crook of Minho’s elbow and leaned in, like a boat touching its mooring.

On the drive to Step Out, the city moved past in winter colors. Their silence wasn’t empty; it had shape. The turn signal clicked, the thermos lid did that soft metallic open-close he did when he needed his hands to think. A song on the radio flared into a chorus and then faded under conversation.

“I keep trying to think of questions that will be asked,” Minho said finally, watching the lane line like it could anchor him. “That way I know the exact things to say. Try to think of ways to keep Hinano’s contact with that—that monster as minimal as possible.”

Jisung said. “You’re always one step ahead.”

Minho’s mouth tugged, rueful. “I don’t want to scare her by being too… there. But I want to be between her and anything that poses a threat to her.”

“You will be,” Jisung said. He didn’t dress the words up, just offered them plain. “We go in steady; we come out steady. If you need five seconds, I’ll take the talking. If I need five seconds, you’ll take the talking.” Jisung might be an unserious mess most times but he was always Minho’s emotional anchor. One he was extremely thankful for.

They parked in the company garage under the stenciled HAN and split at the elevators like a zipper. Minho still felt that lump wedged deep in his chest as he entered the dance studio, trainees already warming up in front of the mirrors. As soon as one of them saw him and bowed deeply the rest followed.

“Yes, good morning. Finish stretching properly and we’ll get started.” Minho went about taking the many layers off, before being in his loose grey tee and black joggers, turning to the trainees when ready.  He hit play on the computer and sound filled the room as members rushed to their marks. Minho watched with sharp eyes, correcting mistakes as needed. One trainee particularly was testing the limits of his already shortened patience.

“Again.” He pinched the bridge of his nose as he heard the others sigh loudly, the trainee apologizing to his fellow members before they remarked. It went on like this for three more runs, the same trainee messing up and getting corrected until finally Minho let the pressure of the upcoming visit get to him.

“Insu! How many times are you going to make the rest of your members suffer?! How—” His breathing became rougher, his vision going a little blurry around the edges, “You nee—” again he couldn’t seem to get the words out.

“Hyung…are you—are you okay?” The sweet boy he was yelling at was the one trying to console him. He didn’t deserve that kindness. Before his knees went completely weak Minho managed to leave the room, ignoring the others concerned voices as he made it as far as the stairwell before collapsing onto his knees. What the fuck was happening?!

🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹

Upstairs, Jisung let the building’s familiar noises settle him: rehearsal drums somewhere far down the corridor (probably Gun-il since he was the only one that would come in that early), a printer gnashing its teeth, Changbin’s voice bouncing off drywall as he argued lovingly with the soundboard. The production suite smelled like coffee that had made a bad decision and warming electronics. He stepped into a large room where Chan and Changbin were already hunched over a laptop and a mess of papers with half written lyrics on them like two raccoons in a trash bin.

“Finally,” Chan said without looking up. “We were about to write you in as ‘mysterious absence’ in the credits.”

“Mysterious quokka,” Changbin corrected. He thumped a beat on the table that made the pens jitter. “Sit. Listen.”

Jisung listened. He let the beat crawl under his skin and find a home, nudged a hi-hat out of the way with a fingertip, caught the tail of a melody and tied it to a different hook, and for ten minutes the world narrowed to just the music. No worries about the meeting with Hinano’s birth mother later, creeping up -- at least for the moment. It was relief and work and love, which for him were all related. When the loop finally clicked into place, Chan blinked at the ceiling as if offering thanks to an impatient god.

“Okay, but hear me out,” Changbin said, already scrolling. “Pre-chorus needs a lift, not a launch. Like… like someone winding a toy car.”

“Winding a toy car is a terrible metaphor,” Jisung said, and then, softer, “You should have said like a rocket preparing for a space exploration...but I know exactly what you mean.”

Chan’s eyes tipped sideways, reading him. “How’s Hina this morning?”

Jisung curled a knuckle against the edge of the desk. He could say fine, because part of her was. He could say not fine, because part of her wasn’t. He chose the space between.

“She’s okay,” he said. “She made a card for Jeongin, out so many stickers of stars it looks like a galaxy exploded on it. Demanded braids like Jin-Ae had during her soccer tryouts, thankfully Minho is like a braiding expert now.” He paused. “I’m holding. Min’s… holding. I don’t want to pour my worry on him and make it heavier.”

Changbin’s mouth softened into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “You don’t have to carry it alone to keep it off him,” he said. “Put some of it here.” He patted the mess of cables like it could absorb fear and convert it into bass.

Chan nodded, voice gentler than his face, which was impressive because their eldest was always gentle. “You know you can come to us,” he said. “For anything. If you need us there, we’re there. Put some of those feelings in the music. We got a client asking for a slow angsty ballad anyway.”

Jisung let his shoulders drop that one measurable degree you only notice when they’ve been up for hours. “I know,” he said. “Thanks.” He tapped the space bar, let the loop run once more, and scribbled a couple of lines that had waited all morning for a place to land.

       An hour later a knock came at the door, small and respectful. The kid in the doorway bowed quickly almost falling over with his nervousness. “Han- hyung?” the trainee said, voice small. “I’m sorry, but...”

“You’re okay, what’s up? Jisung said, already half-standing because this was already unusual

“It’s Minho-sunbaenim,” the trainee said in a rush, words tripping over the respect prefix and his worry. “He—he yelled. Not like… He never— I mean, he stopped and we know he wasn’t really mad at me, but now he—he looks like he can’t catch his breath. Can you—?”

Changbin was up before the sentence finished. “I’ll take over,” he said, already moving.

Chan squeezed Jisung’s shoulder once—hard, brief. “Go.”

They crossed the hallway briskly, the trainee trotting to keep pace, passing a cluster of stylists hauling suit racks to get ready for some upcoming Mnet performance. Studio 3’s door was propped open with a block of wood. Inside, mirrors reflected too many versions of the same nervous faces. The music wasn’t playing. A handful of dancers leaned against the far wall, stretching in deliberate silence, the kind that tries not to ripple the air. The other half was pacing back and forth obvious worry for their teacher etched across their faces. Minho wasn’t in the room.

“Break. Ten minutes,” Jisung said, soft but carrying. Relief flooded a few of their systems, he could tell by the way their shoulders sank. He turned to the trainee whose name he couldn’t quite remember at the moment and asked, “Where is he?”

“Stairs,” the kid said, pointing, and then looked guilty, as if he’d betrayed a secret.

Jisung found Minho halfway down the concrete flight between floors, both hands braced on the railing like he needed it to keep him from floating away. His head had tipped forward until his forehead hit his knees. His shoulders rose and fell too fast.

“Hey,” Jisung said softly, matching his height by dropping a step, “Can you look at me please? I wanna see those pretty eyes.”

Minho did, and in the rawness there was nothing Jisung had seen before from his usually stoic mate: the way Minho’s pupils calibrated to fight-or-flight; the way he tried to hold himself in like a bucket catching a spill. Shame flickered, angry at its own existence.

“I snapped,” Minho said, low. “At Insu. He missed the turn and I—” He flexed his hands like he could open them and let the moment fall out. “It wasn’t about him.”

“I know.” Jisung’s voice was a margin—white space to stop the words from running off the page. He lifted his hand, slow enough to be seen, and laid his palm flat against Minho’s sternum. “Just breath with me?”

He breathed in—not a command, an invitation. Out. In again, longer. Minho’s chest stuttered under Jisung’s hand, then found the rhythm because that’s what Minho does: he finds the beat and teaches it to people who can’t hear it yet.

 Minho’s throat worked. The next inhale didn’t scrape. The next exhale took a corner with less skid. He blinked, his head pointed towards the ceiling to keep the tears at bay.  The faintest trace of barley tea rose between them where fear had been a moment ago; the clean green note beneath it.

“I’m sorry,” Minho said, meaning it to the bones. “I’ll apologize to him. I didn’t—”

“You will,” Jisung said. “And it will land, because it’s you.” He let his hand fall, knuckles brushing fabric, the smallest gravity. “They care for you, jagi. Insu knew it wasn’t like you and that scared him more that the actual yelling I think.”

Minho closed his eyes, only for a second. When he opened them, the flint-spark of focus was back. “Yeah,” he said. “Okay.”

They went back up together. Minho called the dancers in and bowed his head to Insu, the apology clean and unadorned. The trainee flushed and bowed back waving his hands and saying an apology wasn’t necessary. When the music started again, Minho counted them in with the warm, precise voice they were used to and Jisung took that as his cue to leave.

When he got back to his own studio space Chan and Changbin were there waiting but acting like they hadn’t been.

“He’s okay.” Jisung answered without waiting for them to ask and plopping down on the sofa, his head thrown back fighting his own breath now.

Chan came to sit by him, just a steady presence and he found himself calming down instantly. “If you needed the day, you guys could have taken it.”

Jisung shook his head immediately, “No…no we needed normalcy. Structured routine would help Hinano the best we decided. No need to give this any more power over her than it has to.”

“That must be Minho talking cause that’s too wise for you.” Jisung snorted out a laugh at Changbin’s quip which is probably what he intended. Gods, he had some great friends.  “Since you want normal, we got work to do so up you go.” Bin literally lifted him off the couch like he weighed nothing more than a rag doll and set him on his feet in front of the sound board.  He could feel his face flush red for a reason he didn’t quite want to get into and turned hoping no one else saw it but of course he wouldn’t be so lucky.

“Ji…are you blushing? Bin I think you broke Jisung.”

Jisung shot his deadliest glare—attempting his best impression of Minho and failing— at the two men who were now cackling like hyenas. “Both of you shut up.” He muttered twirling the leather rolling chair and sitting in it, pressing the play button on what they were working on before getting interrupted.

Before he knew it it was almost one o’clock and Minho was now tapping on the studio door, pushing it open and leaning against it, “Jagi, it’s time.”

Jisung didn’t let out the groan he wanted to, just stood while telling Changbin not to— “add anymore fucking bass to that beat Bin and I swear I’ll swap out your protein powder for dry detergent”— and walked towards the elevator with his mate. By the time they got to the car the air around them was palpable, neither of them spoke the whole drive to the school but Minho gripped his hand like it was a life line.

The school office smelled like dry paper and the kind of citrus cleaner that tried very hard.The secretary looked up with a smile that had that sense of both alertness and tiredness. He supposed being around so many children under the age of 10 could do that to a person.

“Ah hello Han-ssi, picking up Hinano early?”

“Yes, we have an appointment and unfortunately we couldn’t get it scheduled for after school hours.” Jisung folded his hands on the counter so he didn’t drum his fingers as Minho spoke. He was always the better speaker, especially in public.

“Give me one second to call her classroom.” She lifted the phone, then pressed the number of the classroom Hinano was in, paging her to gather her things and come to the office. “She’ll be just a moment.” Another soft smile.

Hinano launched herself at them as soon as she laid eyes on them; Jisung catching her easily. She was all elbows and certainty, the kind of hug that stole the air and gave it back warmer. Minho’s hand came up instinctively to steady both of them, palm wide between Hinano’s shoulder blades. The secretary melted into a soft “happy Friday and happy birthday Hinano” as she slid the sign-out sheet across the counter, Minho signing since Jisung’s hands were full of a giggly girl who only had one arm in her coat which his mate fixed immediately before they went back out to brace the cold February air.

Back in the car, Hinano wriggled into her booster seat and buckled with solemn precision. Minho checked to make sure it was secured properly then tucked a spare blanket they kept in the car over her knees the way he always did, the Omega instinct to protect and care for their child never far from his mind.

“How was school?” he asked, letting the question be big enough for any answer.

“Good,” Hinano said immediately, then amended, “Spelling test was medium. I got ‘elephant’ and couldn’t remember how to spell it in Korean so I put Japanese and the teacher still gave me a half point.”

“Well that was nice of her.” His mate said, “I’ll teach you again when we get home that way if you get it next week you’ll be well prepared.” Hinano gave him a big grin before it fettered out into a soft sigh.

“Do we have to go?” They didn’t pretend not to know what she meant. They did. Hell Minho had wanted to ask the same question.

“I know you don’t want to, Flower. We don’t either but just remember you’re not alone. We will never leave your side.”

“Not for a blink.” Hinano murmured under her breath, the saying becoming a mantra for them over the last week.

The municipal building came into view far sooner than he would have hoped and when Minho put the car in park he saw the way Jisung’s bottom lip quivered before he tensed up and braced for what was going to happen next. Putting on the bravest of faces for their little girl.

The building’s lobby had the familiar attempt at kindness: fake plants, too-bright art, the lemon-clean smell that didn’t belong to anyone but rather a disinfectant of some sort. The elevator dinged tiredly and they shuffled in riding it to the fourth floor in a silence that felt like the last breath before dying—a little dramatic but hey dramatics were called for today.

Once outside Park Jiwoo’s office, Hinano’s fingers curled and uncurled against her coat hem. She looked at her shoes, then at the door that was open a polite hand’s width, as if the room were inhaling.

“Before we go in,” she whispered, not looking up, “Jin-Ae told me sometimes when she has big feelings that seemed too much Channie and Lixie-imo would do something called… scenting? Can I have Bunny and Sungie scent? She taught me how.”

“Yes,” Minho said, immediately, and Jisung’s yes braided through his, not louder, not softer. They crouched. Hinano stepped in on her own. She tipped her face and nuzzled into Minho first—small, steady—then turned to Jisung and pressed in the same quiet way. No one narrated it. Warmth rose and settled, familiar as their couch, as the sweaters folded in her drawer. She exhaled, the tremor smoothing at the end. When she drew back, she took both their hands without asking. Not that she ever needed to.

Park Jiwoo’s door opened a little wider, inviting, inevitable. They went through together.

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

The small click the door made behind them sounded too loud even though it wasn’t. The room was square and polite. Some chairs with straight backs, a comfy looking couch. A box of tissues with leaves on it. A plant that wasn’t real but tried very hard to look like it was. The air smelled like lemon and paper and the warm edge of Bunny and Sungie because she’d asked in the hallway and they’d said yes. When she took a deep breath, she could almost taste them on her tongue, ginger and tea.

Jiwoo-ahjumeoni had a soft voice that always made Hinano feel a little safer and she liked that. “Hi, Hinano.” She smiled then bent down her knees tucked close to her chest and hands laid neatly on them, “You can sit wherever you like.”

Wherever you like. She liked having the choice. Hinano took the cushion in the middle of the couch because it let her touch Bunny’s sleeve with her thumb and keep Sungie’s knee in the corner of her eye. If she had to run, there was the door. She counted how many steps: one, two, three, four, five-and-a-half because her feet were small.

The clock ticked. The second hand hopped. She matched it once, twice, then stopped because she didn’t want to be reminded just how long this might take.

The other door opened after what felt like forever and everyone stood. Sweet came in first. Not the good sweet of pancakes. The sticky sweet of fruit that sat too long in a bowl. Ginkgo and plum. It was the smell Hinano did not like from Osaka and now she remembered why. She stood up immediately when her mother came into the room, hand grasping at Sungie’s knee.

“Hinano!” The smell came in with the woman “Hina-chan, come give mommy a hug!”

Her body did the thing before her head could think the words: one step back, and then another, until the back of her legs met Bunny’s shins. Bunny didn’t move forward. He let her decide.

She looked at the floor, then a chair leg, then up at the place between her mother’s eyebrows where the skin made a little pinch when she said hug.

Park-ssi said “Hinano why don’t we speak in Japanese today?”, and Dr. Lee wrote something with her pen without scratching the paper too loud. “Let’s all sit,” Park said, like putting cushions under the air.

She chose the couch again, pulling Bunny’s hand along with her so he could sit on one side and Sungie took the other. Her mother chose the chair across from her, closest to the tissue box. She put a shiny bag on her lap and shook it a little, like she had watched Jin-Ae do at her new puppy Berry. “I brought your favorite candy,” she said brightly, and pulled it out. It was not Hinano’s favorite. It had never been. She didn’t like how it stuck to her teeth and turned her tongue into medicine.

“I don’t like that,” Hinano said. The words came out neat and lined up, formal.

Bunny’s mouth made a tiny twitch that was almost a smile but stayed in his cheeks. Sungie’s knee bumped into her foot once and when she slid her eyes to him, he just smiled softly.

“Oh?” Her mother’s voice stayed high and soft, it was never like that before. It was always mean and sharp.“You loved these.”

“No,” Hinano said. She smoothed Bunny’s sleeve between her fingers again. “I didn’t.”

 “Do you remember the park? And the blue dress? You looked so pretty. We had such nice times.”  Her mother asked, eyes cruel like she dared her to say the wrong thing.

Hinano stared at the tissue box; she did not remember the blue dress. She didn’t remember any good times with her mother.  She remembered a red door with paint missing near the handle, and the smell of smoke that wasn’t from a fireplace, and hands that didn’t belong to her, pushing, holding, taking. She remembered the feeling of crying and the sound of someone telling her to stop because the neighbors would hear. She remembered being told the crying would just make it worse.

Her mother kept smiling with her mouth and not her eyes. “Don’t worry. You’ll come home soon,” she said, as if everything that happened never did. “We’ll make everything nice again.”

Almost as if he knew what she was feeling, Bunny ran his fingers along her wrist, a gentle reminder that she wasn’t alone. That he was there. She leaned into the warmth of him. “Can I have some water?” She whispered up at him. Sungie must have heard because he poured her a small cup of it, wiping her chin with a tissue when she drank too much too fast.

Her mother asked another question and when Hinano didn’t look at her—because looking at her made her skin crawl—her voice got flatter.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” she said. Bunny’s scent got sharper for just a moment before it almost disappeared again.

Jiwoo-ahjumeoni’s hand lifted. “Let’s keep our voices gentle,” she said calmly.

Her mother’s fingers pressed the candy bag. The plastic wrinkled. “Hinano,” she said again, with more of the tone she knew from her slipping out “It’s okay, come. Here.”

Her hand came up, palm down, a little summoning scoop, not touching but still too close. Hinano’s body moved without asking and she climbed into Bunny’s lap, snuggling back against his chest. Bunny’s arm came around her slow and visible. The air changed for one heartbeat—thicker, warmer, safer. Then it settled. Bunny breathed like counting. One, two, three. In together. Out together. She kept breathing him in until she felt a little better.

A pen made a small sound. Dr. Lee’s voice came out soft, the way people talk near sleeping animals they don’t want to startle on the shows her and Sungie sometimes watched. “Hinano,” she said. “This is your moment. You can tell your birth mother how you feel. We will listen without talking over you until you’re finished. Take your time.”

Hinano’s heart made a strong pound in her chest. She put her hand flat where it knocked, felt the steady beat under it—then Bunny’s breath against her back, Sungie’s knee warm by her calf when he scooted closer. The sticky sweet smell was still in the room. She wished for the smell of their nest back at home. Then she remembered she had some of it on her sweater and all around her if she just wanted, she could lean back even further and bring Bunny’s smell into her even more. So, she did.

She looked at her mother’s mouth, not her eyes, took another deep lungful of her family’s scent and spoke.

“You hurt me,” she said. Her voice shook like paper in a fan. “You… you let the bad men hurt me.”

Sungie’s knee moved—a tiny flinch that went away. Bunny’s hand was a heavy, safe weight.

“You let them touch me in the no places even when I cried,” Hinano said, her voice wobbling with the unshed tears at the memories. “You said—you said it—” she shook her head unable to finish.

“It’s okay, Flower.” She heard Sungie whisper only to where she could hear. “You don’t have to.” But she wanted to. She wanted her mother to know how she felt. Hinano took in another deep shaky breath from her uniform where their scents still sat.

“You said it’s because you needed your medicine but didn’t have the money.”

Her mother’s  smile went off like a light. Her face looked different without it, more like the one she was used to.

“That’s—” she started, and her voice wasn’t soft anymore. “That’s not— You ungrateful little brat!” The last word cracked like a plate. “You don’t talk to your mother like that. Children should know their place. Parents know what’s best for them.”

She moved like she might stand. Sungie’s scent rose becoming a little spicer and he moved his body to where it was almost blocking her view.

Jiwoo-ahjumeomi stood, “We’re going to pause here,” she said. “Adult responses are finished for now. Hinano, you’re doing very well.”

Her mother made a sound in her throat like she wanted to say something else but didn’t. She just sat, but her fingers dug into the shiny bag until it made a squeal. The sickly sweet smell got stronger, like it wanted to climb in Hinano’s mouth and live there. Hinano kept the nest smell instead.

She could stop. Dr. Lee said she could stop whenever she wanted. But she knew the only way she could ever really get past this was to talk. Even if it hurt in the moment.

“Bunny is my eomma,” she said, proudly. “Sungie is my appa.”

Her mother’s jaw ticked, the Ginko in her scent turning to how the fruit from the tree does when you step on it. Not even the sweet plum smell that also came from her could cover it.

“People who love you don’t let you get hurt,” Hinano said. “They don’t make you be quiet when you’re scared. They don’t say it’s your fault.” She swallowed and it hurt a little. “I don’t want to see you ever again.”

The room got very quiet. Even the air purifier forgot its hum for a breath. Park’s eyes shone the way water shines, not falling, just there. Dr. Lee wrote something that didn’t scratch at all. Sungie’s hand grabbed her ankle gently, just there.

“Thank you, Hinano,” Park said, voice steady. “We’re going to end the meeting now.”

Her mother stood up too fast and the chair leg made a squeal that tried to climb into Hinano’s teeth. “You little bitch,” she said her once sugary voice melted into the kind of fire she remembered “The little bitch liked it. I bet she does the same for you, that’s why you want to keep her isn’t it?! Does she feel good? All the others said she felt so good. I taught her how to suck co—“

“Session concluded,” Dr. Lee said suddenly. Hinano had never seen the nice doctor ever look so angry before. Bunny placed her onto the couch and was standing by the time a man that looked like a police officer took her mother out of the room. Taking the sweet and rotten scent with her

Sungie turned to her and smoothed a hand over her head. “You okay?” he asked, but he asked it like he would believe whatever she said.

Hinano nodded once. She pressed her forehead to the zipper of his jacket because the metal was cool and real. Bunny came back and crouched in front of her, palms on his knees, not crowding. The room smelled like lemon cleaner and barley tea and ginger and sandalwood and the last bit of ginkgo-plum that couldn’t make up its mind if it wanted to leave. She wished it would already.

“You were so brave, Flower. I’m sorry…” Hinano put her hand over Bunny’s mouth. He had nothing to be sorry for. He and Sungie showed her what love was and that’s what made her so brave.

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

The smell clung even after she was gone. Rotten sweetness, the kind that sticks to the back of the throat. Minho forced a slow breath through his nose until the sharper edge of ginger and sandalwood answered—Jisung’s scent, steady and deliberate, clearing the air the way he always did even if he didn’t know it.

Park Jiwoo moved first, tapping what Minho had assumed was a mirror on the other side of the room.  Dr. Lee stood by the table, pen capped, jaw tight, controlling her breathing like she was reminding herself she couldn’t hurt the woman who birthed his daughter.

Minho stayed crouched.  His knees hurt, but the ache anchored him.  Hinano’s small head still rested against Jisung’s chest, her hand fisted in Minho’s sleeve.  He could feel the tremor in her fingers, every pulse of it counting out the seconds he hadn’t yet found words for.

When she finally looked up, eyes swollen and lashes just a touch wet, Minho leaned forward just enough to meet her line of sight.

“You did everything right,” he said.  His voice came out quieter than he expected. “Everything.”

Jisung brushed a tear from her cheek with his thumb and murmured, “You’re safe now, always.”

Park’s clipboard settled on the table with a small click.  “We’ll take a moment,” she said softly.  “You don’t have to move until you want to.”  She poured a cup of water and set it within reach without comment.

Dr. Lee crossed the few steps toward them, her tone calm again.  “Hinano, you were very brave.  We’ll make sure that woman can’t hurt you anymore.  I promise.”  She turned to Minho and Jisung.  “I’ll be recommending permanent termination of parental rights effective immediately.  The Judge has been observing.  He’s requested to speak with you.”

Minho blinked, registering the word observing just as a light clicked on behind the mirror and revealed a man in judicial black coming to stand.  For an instant, Minho felt the floor tilt; all that control he’d built around his breathing wavered.  The Judge stepped through the adjoining door; a folder tucked under one arm.  He was smaller than Minho expected, older, with a face that had seen too many days like this.

He stopped first beside the couch and crouched, careful to keep his distance.  “Miss Hinano,” he said, voice mild as worn wood.  “You were very brave today.  You told the truth even when it was hard.  You won’t have to see that woman again unless you want to.  Do you understand?”

Hinano nodded.  Her fingers tightened once around Minho’s sleeve.  The Judge smiled—tired but genuine—and turned toward the adults.

“Han-ssi,” he said, addressing them formally, though his tone softened on the names.  “What I saw today was enough to know that woman should never have a child in her custody. I’m authorizing immediate finalization of the adoption in your favor. The paperwork is complete and will just need your signatures. Hinano has very clearly chosen you and it’s obvious that she trusts and loves you both very much in the way she reaches out for you when she’s overwhelmed. Children are good judges of character.”

He opened the folder and passed a sheaf of documents across the table toward Park Jiwoo, who slid them to Minho and Jisung to sign. The blue court seal at the bottom of the page blurred until Minho blinked hard.

“It’s done?” Jisung asked, voice a rasp.

“It’s done,” the Judge confirmed.  “Legally and irrevocably.  She is your daughter in every sense that matters.”

Minho choked on a sob.  He nodded, once, the movement short and sharp, then bent and pressed his forehead to Hinano’s hair.  The light scent of her—sweet honeysuckle and tart green apple—filled his lungs until there was room for nothing else.  Jisung’s hand found his shoulder, warm and solid.

Park Jiwoo signed the final line as witness.  “We’ll file this within the hour,” she said.  “Take her home.  She’s earned peace.”

Dr. Lee gathered her notes with brisk precision, already composing the report.  “I’ll schedule a follow-up for trauma care, but for tonight—rest.  All of you.”

When they stepped into the hallway, the air felt lighter, almost thin.  Hinano held both their hands, her braids brushing the backs of their wrists as she swung them once, shyly.

Outside, the winter sky had gone pale gold.  The Judge passed them in the lobby on his way out, nodding once, the faintest smile still ghosting his mouth.  He didn’t speak again; he didn’t need to.

Minho chose to sit in the backseat with Hinano, not wanting to let her go for a second afraid it would all be some cruel joke and she’d be taken away. Hinano leaned sideways until her head found Minho’s bicep.  Within minutes her breathing evened, small and soft.  The city drifted by in slow frames through the window: storefronts, children in scarves, a bus stop where someone laughed.  Jisung drove with one hand on the wheel, the other bent at an awkward angle just so he could place it on Minho’s knee behind him. They didn’t talk. They didn’t need to.

Hinano was asleep before the car even pulled into the lot. Her face had slipped deep into crook his arm somewhere between the traffic lights and the turn into their street, small hand wrapped around his thumb like she was holding onto something precious. The feeling was mutual.

Once parked, Minho carefully unbuckled her from her booster seat careful not to bump her head against the door frame. She made a faint sound, half sigh, half hum, but didn’t wake. Her weight was warm and light against his chest, and every time she breathed, a small puff of her scent rose to meet him. The elevator ride up to their apartment was quiet, other than Jisung shuffling the blanket from the car closer around her so it didn’t drag on the ground.

He carried her straight to her room, the one with the curtains patterned in frogs she’d chosen herself. Her stuffed animals sat in a messy heap at the end of the bed—Moo on top, leaning against a pink bear. Minho lowered her onto the mattress slowly, brushing the stray strands of hair from her forehead. She didn’t stir. Only her hand reached out in sleep, finding his the way it always did, and relaxed again when she felt it.

He stood there longer than he meant to. Long enough for the ache behind his ribs to catch up to him. The day, the words, the smell of that woman—it all sat in the corners of his mind, heavy but quiet. He didn’t realize he was crying until a thumb brushed the corner of his eye.

Jisung stood beside him, voice barely above a whisper. “Hey. It’s okay, jagi.”

Minho let out a breath that shook anyway. Jisung wiped another tear away with the side of his hand, then leaned his head lightly against Minho’s shoulder. For a while, they both just watched her breathe.

“She’s safe,” Jisung murmured.

“She’s ours,” Minho said, voice rough.

They stepped out of the room together, closing the door halfway so the sliver of hallway light stayed inside. The apartment felt softer, like the air itself had unclenched.

In the living room, Jisung dropped onto the couch and tilted his head back against the cushions. “We should tell the others,” he said after a minute. “They’ll want to know the judge signed everything.”

Minho curled onto the couch beside him, head in his mate's lap. “Tomorrow,” he said. “Let’s keep it ours tonight. Just for today.”

Jisung smiled, small and tired. “Tomorrow’s her birthday.”

“I know.” Minho practically purred when Jisung’s fingers carded their way through his hair . “Good day to tell her family she’s home.”

For the first time in months, Minho didn’t have to plan what came next. He just breathed.

Chapter Text

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

Hinano woke up before the sun did. The sky still looked sleepy, the kind of gray that made everything soft and quiet. For a second, she thought maybe it was still night — but then she heard a soft creak on the part of the floor that always let out a soft sigh no matter how careful you tried to be.

Hinano stretched in her bed. It was nice and warm.

It was the kind of warm that didn’t come from blankets, not the sleepy hot of her own breath tucked under the covers, but a different kind of warm that drifted in from the door and curled under her nose like a ribbon.

Her eyes finally opened into the soft gray of the room. The winter light crouched against the curtains, not ready yet, and the room smelled like her shampoo from last night, and Moo’s felt ear against her cheek, and—there it was again—the kitchen-smell. She lifted Moo by her ribbon so her stitched smile looked at the door. She lay there for one more minute on purpose, listening to the apartment breathe. The air felt softer somehow, like the morning was holding its own secret. Maybe all mornings were like this on the day you turned older—though she didn’t really know, because no one had ever told her what a birthday was supposed to feel like. It wasn’t loud or sparkly like the drawings in storybooks. It was just warm. Steady. The kind of warm that made her chest feel full and her head a little floaty. She hugged Moo closer and wondered, quietly, if the world knew it was her birthday, even if no one had said anything yet.

When she finally decided to slip out of bed she shivered as her feet his the cold wood of the apartment floor. She put on her slippers with a big head at the toes that looked like a squirrel but Sungie said it was a quokka. She tucked Moo under her arm and pulled her door open very carefully so it wouldn’t tap the wall.

Her stomach grumbled as she left her room and at the same time her ears started noticing other things. The stove clicked, and then came the little fwshhh of the gas, and there was Bunny’s hum, low and soft, not a song she knew, more like the shape of a song that hadn’t gotten all its notes yet. Water tapped the sink. Something wooden met something metal, stirring. She could tell by the way the hum bobbed that Bunny wasn’t worried. If Bunny hummed with his eyebrows up (she watched him sometimes), it meant he was thinking hard. If he hummed with his mouth closed and his shoulders dropped, it meant everything was okay.

The hallway was a small river of light, and the light got brighter where it reached the kitchen. Bunny stood with his back to her, apron tied crosswise at his waist, sleeves pushed up. Steam rose from a pot and a plate of shiny green leaves waited on the counter next to a little glass bottle with brown liquid inside and a spoon resting on top like a boat. The brown liquid smelled sharp—soy sauce—and the soup smelled… sea-y? Like when they went to the market that had fish and crabs in tanks and the air was water-with-salt. Seaweed, she thought, but only because she had learned the word by asking why the green sheets in the pantry were called “seaweed” if “weed” was usually a bad thing in the garden. Bunny had said, “Weeds are still very important.” Something about soil and being food for caterpillars and bees.

“Bunny?” Her voice came out softer than usual, still sleepy sounding.

He turned his head first, then his whole body and his face did that softening thing it always did when he saw her or Sungie first thing in the mornings. “Good morning, birthday girl. You’re up early. Did you sleep well?”

“So good Bunny. What are you making?” She stretched her head towards the stove where the smell of the sea was coming from, trying to see inside the pot and failing. “It smells like the ocean but also not.”

Bunny laughed softly but she could tell it wasn’t at her, “That’s a very accurate review. It’s miyeok-guk. Seaweed soup.”

“For breakfast?” Hinano climbed onto the stool she usually sat at in the mornings, crinkling her nose in confusion.

“But today is a special day isn’t it?” Bunny said as he came to pour her a glass of juice from the refrigerator giving her a quick kiss on the top of her fluffy head when he set it down in front of her. "In Korea, on birthdays, we eat this for breakfast.”

“Why?”

“When babies are born they person who carried them gets tired and needs to heal. Miyeok-guk helps with that. In Korean culture, we eat it to remember the birth. To say thank you to the person who brought us into the world and to hope for health and strength.” He flicked her nose lightly before winking, “Also because it’s delicious.”

Her face felt complicated for a second, and she let it. Yesterday was still sitting somewhere behind her ribs—heavy and bright at the same time. She had been brave, braver than she’d ever been, when she told her birth mother exactly what had hurt and why. Her voice had shaken, but she hadn’t hidden. She remembered Bunny’s hand steady on her shoulder, Sungie’s quiet breath beside her, the way her mother’s eyes looked at her all angry like and how that had made her want to stand even straighter.

Now, with the steam from the soup curling around her, all of it came back in small pieces: the too-warm room, the judge’s white collar, the sound her own heartbeat had made in her ears when she said, You hurt me.
She hadn’t known what would happen after that—only that she wanted to be heard, really heard, for once. And she had been. The judge had listened. Bunny and Sungie had too.

But the brave part of her still trembled underneath. Sometimes bravery did that—it wobbled after the storm was over. She chewed her cheek slightly before taking a sip of her juice. It was her birthday now, and the soup was supposed to mean thank you for being born, but she wasn’t sure who the thank-you was for. The woman who’d carried her? Or the two who’d stayed? Maybe both. Maybe neither. Her stomach made a small noise, not from hunger but from the weight of thinking.

“Can I help?” she asked quietly.

“I would love help from my favorite little chef. Do you remember how to cook the rice?”

“Ooh we should wash it and get it started in the machine that cooks it that way its finished when we need it!”  She climbed onto the step stool, the one that sometimes squeaked, and poured the little grains from the bag Bunny had on the counter into a bowl. When the water hit, it went cloudy white. “It looks like milk,” she giggled, stirring with her hand.

“That’s the starch,” Bunny told her. “It washes off so the rice doesn’t get sticky. Wash it really good—until the water goes clear.” Hinano hummed in agreement and went about her task. She liked being here like this with him, liked cooking with him. Maybe she can do this when she’s older too! She finished with the rice and pushed the button that

He handed her the spoon and she slid it through the green river. The leaves softened instantly. The smell climbed up into her eyes, and her eyes watered, but not in a crying way. “Bunny?” she said, eyes on the steam. “Will—um. Will Sungie like this too?”

“Mm-hm,” Bunny said. “Sungie likes anything we make together.” As if they summoned him into existence, Sungie came walking in, eyes still mostly shut as he made his way to the coffee machine first.

“Good morning.” Came his sleepy voice once he had finished setting the coffee to brew. Sungie shuffled over to them, hoodie slightly ruffled, hair sticking up like he had lost a battle with the blow dryer. He rubbed his eyes with a sleeve. “What do I smell? Ocean mermaid soup?”

“It’s Miyeok-guk! Bunny said it’s special for birthdays to say thank you and for strong health.”

Sungie blinked then smiled. “You’re raising her well.”

Hinano giggled as she watched the tips of Bunny’s ears go pink. Sungie leaned over the pot too close, got a puff of steam to the face and backed away fanning himself. Hinano laughed so hard Bunny had to hold her to make sure she didn’t fall off the stool. Sungie kissed Bunny’s shoulder, then kissed the top of her head too. “Happy birthday, Flower! What are you like 20 now?”  

“I’m six Sungie!!!” A loud squeal left her at his silliness and she saw the corner of Bunny’s mouth tilt in a smile as he shook his head and went about finishing up their breakfast.

“Six? Oh excuse me, I guess that means you can’t have this…” The spoon he held with the foam of the coffee on it slowly made its way towards the sink. She had been curious as to what the drink Sungie always had in the morning tasted like and asked a couple of times but was always told it was for grownups. Hinano clambered off the stool and rushed towards him.

“No no no, I meant 20 yeah I’m 20!”

Sungie’s hand stopped, the barest hint of a smile on his face as he looked like he was trying to be serious. “I don’t know. You sure?” Hinano nodded her head a million times.

“Good answer.” He said, then offered her the foam on the spoon.

She licked it, giggling. “I’m still 6.”

“Scandal,” he whispered. “Do not tell anyone I almost let you drink coffee on your birthday.”

“I will tell everyone,” she whispered back.

“Alright you two, breakfast is finished. How about we set the table?”

“I have the spoons!” Hinano opened the drawer that held all the things to eat with and pulled out three spoons along with three sets of chopsticks while Bunny and Sungie brought over the banchan, bowls of soup and rice.

When they sat, Hinano’s legs swung twice under the chair before stopping. Her hands folded and unfolded. Bunny watched without watching. Sungie pretended to blow on his soup for too long—waiting.

“So,” Sungie said finally, gently. “We had kind of a big day yesterday.”

Hinano’s chest hopped, like a small bird startled. She stared at the fogged window of the kitchen. Then Bunny said, “We can talk about it today. Or tomorrow. Or not at all. We’ll listen either way.”

“I want to,” she said. “I think.”

Sungie nodded. “You can think and still try. There’s no wrong answer.”

Hinano took a breath. The soup smelled brave. “She—the lady. The birth one.”

Bunny’s hand rested palm-up on the table, a small dock if she wanted it. She slid her hand over without looking.

“I didn’t like her eyes,” she said. “They went all small like they used to do when she would give me away. It made my tummy jump like when the bus goes fast on the bridge. I felt mad at her. Small-mad and big-mad. It made my head loud.” She tapped her temple softly. “And then I felt scared because maybe the judge would say ‘go to her.’ And I don’t want to. And also because…”

“Because?” Sungie prompted quietly.

“Because maybe I am bad,” Hinano whispered. “If I am mad at the person who carried me, then I am ungrateful, and the soup is wrong. And if I am scared they will take me, it means I don’t trust you enough, and that is bad too, because you did all the papers and I was supposed to be brave and not have tummy-jumps.”

Bunny’s thumb brushed her hand once, twice. Sungie put his chopsticks down quietly.

“I did a mean face at her in my mind,” Hinano blurted. “And I was mad that she looked at me like I was yucky. And then I hid in Bunny and said in my head don’t let them take me, over and over. Maybe you heard it, because the judge decided right away.”

Bunny made a soft sound—half laugh, half sigh. “I did,” he said. “I hear you even when it’s only in your head voice.”

Sungie rubbed his cheek quickly with his sleeve. “And the judge made the right decision because the judge is smart,” he said, “and because our lawyer is scary in a good way.”

Hinano sniffed. “I don’t want to be taken,” she said, plain and small. “I want to be ours.”

Bunny’s hand squeezed once. “You are ours.”

“But the papers,” she said, because papers were like spells.

“Are done,” Sungie said. “Signed, stamped, approved. You are Han Hinano. You’re ours in the most boring way to the government and the biggest way to us.”

“Even without the papers, you were ours,” Bunny said softly. “Because we chose you, and you chose us back.”

Hinano blew her nose into the napkin Bunny gave her, then took a sip of soup. It warmed her throat. “If I have mad again later,” she asked, “will you still…”—she gestured vaguely—“…stay?”

“Always,” Bunny said.

“Every time,” Sungie echoed.

When the bowls were empty and the kitchen smelled like comfort, Bunny reached over and brushed her hair back with his fingers.

“Let’s get dressed,” Bunny said, voice bright and easy, like sunlight on water. “We’ve got a day to begin.”

Hinano smiled and slid down from her chair, padding towards the bathroom because she knew after eating you always brushed your teeth. When she was finished with that she saw Bunny coming down the hall towards her.

“Alright, Flower. Why don’t we put on a special birthday outfit? What do you want to wear?” Hinano thought about it for a moment, then went over to her dresser and pulled out a light purple skirt that went to her knees and made her feel like a ballerina only not so poofy. Sungie had brought it home one day but she hadn’t worn it yet because it felt like something you should wear on a special day.

“This!” She held it out proudly and smiled when Bunny nodded.

“Very pretty. What about a top? Can’t go running around without one.” This part was going to be a little harder. It must have shown on her face because Bunny pulled out a soft cream colored sweater with a cute lacy collar and flowers stitched onto it.

“What about this?” Hinano beamed up at him. He always knew what would look good together. He helped her dress, then had her sit down on the stool so he could do her hair. He took half of it and put it in pigtails with a ribbon tied around each of them that matched her skirt. She didn’t even know she had those. It was like magic! They finished the outfit with some frilly socks and she twirled once with a giggle as the skirt flew around her. He rearranged her bangs so they laid the right way again and gave her a kiss on the top of her head.

“A birthday princess.”

When every one was dressed and ready they headed into the elevator, Hinano in the middle holding their hands and swinging between them every once in a while when they lifted her up. They got to the car and Sungie opened the door for her helping her get into her special seat.

“Sungie where are we going?”

Sungie glanced at Bunny who was getting into the driver’s seat as the click of the belt echoed throughout the car. “Just running some very important errands.” Once Sungie took his seat in the car he immediately put on some music. He hummed with the song, and she knew it was one he had written. He stretched his arms out  and drummed along the dash in front of him like a little concert. Bunny’s mouth tilted at the corner like he was hiding a smile. Hinano stare out the window carefully and tried to be a detective, but her detective skills were made sleepy by the warm air and the music and the tiny clacks of the turn signal. She leaned her head against the seat and watched Bunny’s eyes in the mirror. They were soft, not worried-soft, the other kind.

Outside, the city was winter-gray in the edges and bright in the middle, like someone had colored only the signs and scarves and left the sidewalks to nap. Bunny drove the way he always did—with one hand, back straight, eyes seeing everything, like the car was a very gentle animal that listened to him because it trusted him. Hinano watched the world walk past the windows in neat lines. They passed the bus stop where the poster always changed hats; this time it wore a green one. They passed the bakery where the glass was foggy and the writing on the door looked like loops of icing.

“Are we getting bread?” she asked, because bread was a perfectly good errand.

“Not yet,” Bunny said.

“Are we visiting Lixie-imo?” she asked, because sometimes they did, just to steal a hug and a laugh and a cookie wrapped in wax paper.

“A quick stop,” Sungie said cheerfully.

“Do we have time to see Jeongin-samchon?” she asked suddenly, remembering the card. “Just a little? Because I brought his card.”

“We’ll see him,” Bunny hummed.

The streets began to look like the ones that led to Chan and Felix’s big house—a house so large Hinano thought, the first time they came, that it might be a school. It had stones that went up to a big door, and the door didn’t have a knob but a keypad numbers.  She wondered why they were here but didn’t ask. Maybe this was part of doing errands?

Bunny pulled into the driveway, the tires crunching tiny pieces of last night’s snow. He turned off the engine, and the sudden quiet made the music stop like a bird landing. Hinano waited for Sungie to undo all the belts on her special seat and was helped out and once again took their hands as they headed towards the door. As they got closer she could hear voices echoing from behind it—someone laughing high and bright probably Lixie, someone laughing loudly maybe Binnie-samchon, a baby’s squeal that hiccuped in the middle. There were other voices too, kid voices. One loud just like their appa—Jang-Ho no doubt.

She hovered behind Bunny’s leg at the edge of the entryway. Sungie reached with his free hand to touch the top of her head not pushing, just saying I’m here. She wasn’t nervous though, she loved her new family. Every one of them, even the twins.

“We’re just saying hi, Channie-hyung said he had something for me for work.” Sungie said, with the same bright-calm voice he used at the doctor’s, which made Hinano suspicious again and also made her feel brave. He smoothed her sleeve. “Ready?”

“Ready,” she said, which was true and also not, which was fine.

When they opened the door her eyes went big. It was like walking into the middle of a sparkler. The big room had been turned soft around the edges—streamers in pale colors like candy wrappers, balloons drifting near the ceiling like lazy moons, a long table along the wall of windows covered in a cloth that shone very quietly, not flashy, just happy. On the table: a field of cupcakes, each with a little flower or a letter, and Hinano realized the letters spelled HINANO across the rows if you looked from left to right like reading. There were paper crowns in a basket, one with a six on it that glittered a little. Someone had put small vases of bright winter flowers between the plates and napkins, and the flowers were smiling faces made of petals.

“Happy birthday, Hinano!” everyone shouted at once. It bounced off the ceiling and rained down on her in colorful pieces.

She stopped, startled so much that she forgot how to blink. For a second she checked behind her, because surely this couldn’t be for her. But the doorway was empty except for shoes and the corner of a rug. The room waited. Tae-yoon waved one hand from Lixie-imo’s hip, then tried to grab a streamer. Jin-Ae ran forward with careful speed —so she didn’t tumble her over again —holding something gold. The twins popped out from behind a chair like two kangaroos with party hats on.

“Is it—” she said, only air at first, then sound. “Is it for me?”

Chan knelt down so fast the floor squeaked. “All of it,” he said, voice steady and calm. “All for you, little Flower.”

Jin-Ae hugged her then carefully placed a paper crown on Hinano’s head. “I made it,” she whispered, and her whisper still carried like a cloud. “Just for you.”

“It’s perfect,” Hinano said, because it was perfect—right weight, not poking her ears, the six shaped like it knew it belonged on her head. Her eyes stung and her throat felt tight on her words. “I’ve never—”

She didn’t finish. The sentence was too big. Felix’s hand found hers and squeezed gently, then—like passing a tiny light from palm to palm—he placed that hand into Bunny’s, who had come to kneel on her other side without her noticing. Sungie knelt too, a triangle of them around her.

“This is what a birthday can look like,” Bunny said softly. “Noisy and silly, or quiet and sweet. But always you in the middle.”

Sungie tapped the little peak of the crown lightly. 

Her throat did a strange wobble. She tried to swallow and it only made the wobble wobblier. She looked at the table again because the cupcakes were easier to look at than the faces around her. The letters were colorful; the flowers held still. She looked at the twins, who were vibrating like soda bubbles and trying hard not to run without permission. She looked back at Jin-Ae’s careful smile, the way she checked Hinano’s face like she was making sure she would be okay. She looked at Channie-samchon, who had his hand on Lixie’s back because he always knew when to hold people up without anyone asking. She looked at Jeongin, who did a little wiggle of his eyebrows to make her laugh. Seungmin stood there with a smile and a wink. And then looked at Hyune-imo who stood there looking like he was trying not to cry for some reason.

“It’s really for me,” she said again, but this time it wasn’t a question.

“It is,” Bunny said.

“And I can have a cupcake?” she added, very quickly, just to make sure she understood the rules of birthday’s.

There was a chorus of adult laughter, crumbs-soft. “You can have a cupcake,” Minnie-samchon said, coming up to poke the tip of her nose. “Or two, if you promise to lend me your crown later.”

“You can borrow it,” Hinano said,matter of factly.

The room suddenly felt lighter. The twins ran around not able to stay still any longer it seemed collecting balloons and arranging them into a pile that made no sense but was clearly important. Channie-samchon scooped Tae-yoon out of Felix’s arms so Lixie could orchestrate plates and napkins and probably the whole universe if someone gave him time. Binnie-samchon leaned over a stack of paper cups like he was guarding a treasure; his deep laugh filled the doorway when Innie tried playfully shoving at him to grab one from beneath his elbow. It made her laugh.

“How about you pick your first one?” Felix said, presenting the tray with a little bow like a waiter in a storybook.

She pointed to one with a purple H—to match her skirt. “This one,” she said. “Because H is for Hinano.” She looked up quickly. “Do we all get to wear hats?”

“We absolutely wear hats,” Hyunjin-imo said with mock solemnity, producing a handful of party hats from nowhere and then pretending to be shocked when one ended up perched on Changbin’s head at a jaunty angle. Changbin pretended not to notice until Tae-yoon noticed, at which point the baby laughed so hard he almost fell out of Channie’s arms and had to be rescued by a kiss to the cheek.

Hinano took a bite. The frosting was sweet and tasted like strawberry; the cake under it was soft like the inside of clouds if clouds were made of vanilla and hugs with some sort of filling that also tasted like strawberries. She closed her eyes just to taste the inside of the bite better. When she opened them, everyone was watching in that way adults do when they are trying not to look like they’re watching because they want you to enjoy a thing for your own self. She took another tiny bite so they could keep enjoying it too, and their faces did the softening thing that told her she had done it right.

“Delicious?” Seungmin asked, pretending his voice wasn’t secretly proud.

“So much,” Hinano said brightly, licking some more frosting from the top of the cupcake.

The house filled with moving things: Kraft-paper-wrapped packages tucked behind the couch (no peeking, someone warned the twins, and the twins nodded seriously and peeked anyway), plates with careful crumbs, napkins crumpled like sleeping cats. Sungie, Binnie and Channie played music that made the kids’ bodies do automatic dancing while the adults pretended their hips weren’t also made to sway. Chan started a game of freeze dance. The twins turned into giraffe-statues instantly, one arm up as a neck, one leg a very serious hoof. Jin-Ae froze with her arms curved over her head, a space-ballerina. Hinano froze with her cupcake halfway to her mouth, eyes enormous, which made everyone crack up; she held the pose anyway because rules were rules.

When the music started the stopped again, Tae-yoon decided rules didn’t apply to babies and kept bouncing like a small happy frog until Hyunjin scooped him and danced him around the coffee table, the baby’s squeals echoing loudly. Seungminnie joined only to attempt to win immediately by freezing before Chan even hit pause; Chan sighed and gave him a faux penalty of wearing a party hat on his face for two whole songs, which he grumbled about but did anyway.

Hinano laughed so hard her crown slipped. Bunny fixed it with quiet fingers, turning the tab in the back so it kissed her hair just right. His knuckle brushed her neck. “Having fun?” he asked, low enough for her to catch and keep.

“Yes,” she whispered back, it was the most fun. She loved that everyone did so much to make her feel so special. She didn’t know family could mean so much.

🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

Minho didn’t need to hear the words to know what was going through her head. He could see it in the way Hinano kept looking around the room. The way she had a soft smile plastered on her face. She felt safe, felt loved. And that was all he wanted for her and everything she deserved.

Okay, he thought, letting his shoulders drop half a centimeter. She’s safe. She’s happy. She’s here.

Around them, the room bounced. The twins were still orbiting in short, excited bursts; Tae-yoon was perched on Felix’s hip, wide-eyed and rubbery from pre-nap overdrive, occasionally letting out a delighted squeal at nothing in particular and smacking his hand against Felix’s chest. Jin-Ae hovered close with her careful energy, like a little moon watching where her gravity was strongest.

It felt like the right moment to keep the magic going—not too fast, not too much, just… forward.

“Hey, Flower,” Minho called softly.

Hinano turned instantly, crown askew, frosting still near the corner of her mouth.

“What do you think?” He tipped his chin toward the pile of wrapped gifts behind the sofa. “Want to do the present part?”

A gasp escaped her, small but sharp. She glanced at the pile like it might vanish if she stared too long.

“The present part!” Jang-Ho half-whispered, half-yelled, already starting to launch himself toward the couch.

Changbin caught him by the hood with practiced ease. “They are not for you.”

The grown-ups laughed. The kids vibrated. The whole living room seemed to inhale together.

“Come sit here, Flower,” Minho said, patting the center of the rug in front of the coffee table. “Birthday girl goes in the middle. It’s the law.”

She padded over and plopped down, tucking her knees in under her skirt, Moo in her lap. Jin-Ae knelt beside her; the twins flanked them like a very chaotic honor guard. Jang-seok drifted almost lazily toward Minho’s side and settled just off his knee, like that had been the plan all along.

Minho moved behind Hinano, kneeling so he could help her if needed, but leaving the space in front of her clear. Jisung sat at his side, thighs touching, shoulder a warm, steady presence.

Chan clapped his hands once, not loud, just enough. “Okay. Rule number one of presents?”

“Wait for Hinano,” the twins chorused, already bouncing.

“Rule number two,” Felix added, arms folded, “no one eats the wrapping paper. Looking at you, Jang-Ho.”

“I never ate it,” Jang-Ho protested. “I just tasted it.”

“New rule,” Hyunjin sighed. “We do not taste the wrapping paper.”

Minho let himself smile. “All right,” he said. “Who’s up first?”

“I am,” Felix said immediately, positioning Tae-Yoon on his hip so he could better bend down to reach the pile. He crossed to the pile and chose a medium box wrapped in pale yellow paper with tiny white dots. The corners were sharp enough to cut air.

He brought it back and knelt in front of Hinano, setting the box gently on the rug. “This one is from me and Channie-samchon,” he announced before the baby let out a squeal of protest, “Ah yes and of course little Yoonie.”

Hinano’s fingers hovered over the paper like she was afraid it would be snatched away. Minho watched her face, the uncertainty and the wonder then looked back at him as if asking permission.

“You can rip it,” Minho murmured, leaning forward just enough that she could hear him. “It likes that.”

Her mouth twitched. She nodded once, then carefully peeled one corner of tape. After a second, the excitement in her hands outran her caution, and she tore a strip down the side with a small, breathy laugh. He loved hearing it.

Yellow paper fell away to reveal a simple white box. She lifted the lid.

Inside, nestled in crinkled tissue, was the bracelet: fine silver chain, three tiny charms spaced along it—a hamster, a tiny bunny, a small flower.

“Oh,” she breathed, the sound thin and full at the same time.

Minho felt his chest go tight. He’d already seen it, of course—Felix had sent him an entire collage of charm options, had paced the bakery describing the symbolism of each like it was a dissertation—but seeing it in Hinano’s hands was different. It looked… right. Like it had been waiting for her wrist specifically.

“Can I… wear it now?” she asked, holding it out.

“If you want to,” Minho said, voice soft. “Give me your wrist.”

Hinano held out her arm, small and serious. Minho fastened the clasp with quick, careful fingers, Jisung steadying his elbow without being asked.

She turned her wrist back and forth. The charms swung and clicked gently together.

“I love it,” she said, very solemn. Then, more quietly, “Thank you. I’ll wear it forever.”

Minho blinked hard. Jisung’s knuckles brushed his, a quiet little nudge: breathe.

Before Minho could soak in that any deeper, Jang-Ho was vibrating against Changbin’s side.

“Is it our turn? Is it our turn now? Appa, can we go? Please?”

“Okay, okay,  us next, before Jang-Ho combusts,” Changbin said, laughing. He grabbed Hyunjin’s hand and hauled him to his feet. Together, they returned to the pile and came back with a slightly bigger box. The wrapping was… enthusiastic. The paper was a little wrinkled, tape uneven, one corner already dented. Minho wondered if they let the twins wrap it themselves.

“This one,” Hyunjin announced, “is from our whole crew. Me, Binnie-samchon, and the twin tornadoes.”

Changbin set the box down carefully in front of Hinano and rotated it so the least-abused side pointed her way. “We thought… maybe something for bedtime,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.

She tore this paper a little less delicately, confidence growing. Inside the cardboard was a small wooden box, smooth and light. A crescent moon and tiny stars had been carved into the lid; Minho could see the tiny sanding marks where someone had softened the edges by hand.

“It plays music,” Jang-seok said quietly from Minho’s side. His voice was small but sure. “Appa made the song.”

Hinano’s eyes got wide. “You made it, Binnie-samchon?”

Changbin’s ears went faintly pink. “Uh,” he said. “Yeah. Just a little melody. Channie-hyung helped put it in the mechanism so it wouldn’t break.”

“Jisungie-hyung complained about tempo,” Hyunjin added. “As usual.”

“Tempo is important,” Jisung muttered under his breath, but he was smiling.

“Wind it, Flower,” Minho said gently.

She found the tiny key on the side and turned it, tongue poking out a little in concentration. When she lifted the lid, the music spilled out: a simple, lilting melody, soft and clear. Not some generic tune. It felt like Changbin—steady under the sweetness, a little sigh in the middle, a resolve at the end. A lullaby built for kids who hadn’t always had easy nights. Minho was honestly a little impressed. He usually made loud, dramatic songs.

The room quieted, almost by instinct. Even the twins went still. Tae-yoon blinked slowly and nestled his face against Felix’s shoulder.

Hinano’s shoulders dropped a fraction, like something inside her had finally exhaled. Her eyes went distant, in that way they did when she was storing a feeling for later.

“It sounds like snow,” she said softly. “And stars. And… like when everyone talks quieter because the baby is sleeping.”

Changbin choked out a tiny laugh that sounded suspiciously like it was wrapped around a sniff. “Yeah,” he managed. “Something like that.”

More gifts followed, a stream of small kindnesses. From Seungmin and Jeongin together came a square box tied with a ribbon that had clearly been re-done three times.

Inside was a soft, floppy-eared stuffed puppy and, tucked beside it, a narrow pencil case filled with glitter pens, markers, paints, crayons and a few nice little drawing and coloring books.

Hinano gasped, hands petting the fur of the stuffed puppy and rifling through all the supplies. She’d get good use out of those, all the pictures on their fridge at home could attest to that.

“So Moo has a friend when you’re at school,” Jeongin said. “And you have official art supplies for your budding career.”

Hinano studied its face very seriously, then hugged it to her chest. “I’m going to name him… PuppyM,” she declared.

Minho tilted his head curiously. “Why PuppyM?” It was a unique name for sure and he just had to know how she came up with it.

Hinano blushed lightly and pointed at Seungmin before answering, “Because it kind of looks like Minnie-Samchon and M is short for Minnie.” The aforementioned man ducked behind Jeongin who laughed.

“That’s the perfect name, Hina.”

Jin-Ae’s present came next. A small box in her hand—the cardboard kind —covered in pastel paper. She held it in both hands, bringing it over like it might break if she walked too fast.

“I made this,” she said, placing it carefully in Hinano’s lap. “For you. Because you’re my best friend.”

Hinano’s breath caught. She lifted the lid.

Inside lay a beaded necklace, strung on sturdy thread—small, colorful plastic beads, with a row of slightly larger ones in the middle that spelled out her name in block letters. At the bottom was a little charm in the shape of a treasure chest as an ode to her nickname.

Jin-Ae’s cheeks were pink. “I… started another one,” she said, pointing at her own neck, where only half a string of beads hung so far. “Mine will say HINANO and have a little flower charm. Then everyone will know we belong together.”

It hit Minho like a punch and a blessing all at once. She had effectively claimed Hinano as much as she could before presenting. Just like that. Like the world had quietly rearranged itself into something gentler while he’d been busy in waiting rooms.

Hinano’s face crumpled and then smoothed out with effort. “It’s so pretty,” she whispered. “I love it. Will you help me put it on later?”

Jin-Ae nodded, grinning so wide her eyes turned into crescents.

There were other little things—a fox storybook from Felix and Chan “for bedtime adventures,” fuzzy moon socks, a bead kit from the twins so they could all make “team bracelets”—but Minho kept finding his attention snagged on the remaining flat, plain-wrapped box tucked toward the back of the pile.

Their gift.

He felt Jisung shift beside him, following his gaze. Their fingers brushed on the rug; Jisung gave his hand a small, grounding squeeze. They had debated on whether to give it to her at home or not but it just felt right to have it here, to share this moment with everyone.

“There’s one more left, Flower.” Jisung handed him the package and he found he was more nervous than anything. It wasn’t that he thought she wouldn’t like it but it was just…emotional.

“This one’s from us,” he said. His voice came out rougher than he wanted, but maybe that was okay today.

Hinano’s fingers smoothed the top of the paper once, as if saying hello, then she peeled the tape. She unfolded the paper carefully this time, like she could tell that this one needed gentleness.

The lid of the slim box came off. Inside, wrapped in tissue, were the two frames. She lifted the first one out, and the Osaka pier came into the room with them.

Snowflakes half-caught in the air, caught in their hair, their coats, the sleeve of Hinano’s jacket. The three of them in winter clothes, cheeks pink from cold, breath visible as pale clouds. Hinano in the middle, mouth wide open in a laugh so big it seemed too large for her face. Jisung on her right, eyes almost closed, teeth showing, hand in her hair. Minho on her left, turned slightly toward them both, smiling in a way he rarely caught himself doing—unguarded, soft, like he didn’t remember there was a camera there at all.

Behind them, the water was a blur of gray-blue. Above them, the sky hung low and white, snow still falling like the world had decided to cover them in something clean.

Across the bottom, in Jisung’s careful handwriting, were the words: Our first trip, not our last.  The second one she pulled out was a copy of the adoption certificate that officially declared her theirs.

Nobody said anything for a moment and Minho could feel his heat racing in his chest.

Hinano stared like the photo had reached out and taken her hand. Her thumb brushed lightly over the glass where her own face was, then over theirs, then over their names in ink on the photocopy.

“It’s us,” she whispered. The words sounded like they came from somewhere very deep.

“It’s us,” Jisung echoed.

“They can go wherever you want it,” Minho said. His throat felt like it was closing up, but the words pushed through anyway. “Your room, the living room, on top of the bookshelf. And when you’re bigger, if you move somewhere else, it goes too. Always.”

“Even if I’m really big?” she asked, eyes still on the frame. “Like… bigger than you?”

“Oh, definitely not bigger than me,” Jisung said immediately. “Impossible.”

Hinano’s mouth twitched.

“Yes, even then,” Minho said, cutting Jisung a look. “Even if you’re grown and very, very far away. They’re yours. We’re yours.”

Her eyes finally left the photos and found their faces. They were wet now, two shiny tracks cutting through the pink of her cheeks. But her mouth was smiling.

“Thank you,” she said. “For… all of it. For…” Her hand flapped vaguely in the air. “Everything.”

The words were too big; Minho could see her fighting to make them fit. He didn’t make her.

Instead, she put the frames gently on the table and then shuffled forward on her knees until she bumped into his legs. Then she climbed—straight into Minho’s lap, half into Jisung’s too, like she wanted to be held by both of them at once.

He gathered her up without thinking, arms coming around her automatically. Jisung’s arm looped across both of them, palm warm on her back.

She smelled like frosting and honeysuckle and green apples and the particular warm-skin scent that had become Hinano in his mind. Her weight settled against him and something in his ribcage finally, finally relaxed.

“Happy birthday, Flower,” he whispered into her hair.

Her reply was a muffled, sleepy, “Happy… us.”

Yeah, he thought, eyes burning. Happy us.

After that, the energy naturally started to dip. Sugar and excitement had hard limits.

The twins’ arguments over who had jumped higher in freeze dance started including more yawns than vowels. Jin-Ae’s head tipped slowly toward Seungmin’s thigh. Jang-Ho was already halfway draped across Changbin’s lap like a discarded scarf. Even baby Tae-yoon’s hands had gone slack, fingers curled loosely around Felix’s shirt.

In his lap, Hinano grew heavier, her grip on Minho’s sweater loosening bit by bit. Her bracelet glinted softly when her hand twitched in a tiny dream but he didn’t want to let her go yet. Just wanted to revel in the feel of her in his arms.

Chan stretched his arms overhead, spine cracking. “I think we’ve hit nap time,” he said lightly.

Felix looked down at his very limp baby, kissing the top of Tae-yoon’s head before Chan took him from his mate and settled the baby into his bassinet.

Pillows appeared from somewhere, blankets from upstairs. The living room turned into a nest in under five minutes, all the Omega’s helping to make it as comfortable for their children as possible.

“You want to go lie with the others?” Minho asked, brushing her hair back from her face.

“No,” she mumbled into his chest. “Not sleepy.”

Her eyes were nearly closed.

“Okay,” he said. “You can rest here for a bit.”

“Five minutes,” she bargained, without moving.

“Five minutes,” he agreed.

Within a couple minutes, she was out. Hyunjin had settled the twins fully into the pile he’d made with only minimal grumbles from Jung-Seok as he pulled the child away from Minho’s side. Jin-Ae snored peacefully near his feet, always seeming to want to be close to wherever Hinano was.

“Need a hand in the kitchen?” Minho murmured to whoever could hear smoothing his hand over Hinano’s hair.

“Only if you let us actually do some of it,” Chan said from the archway, smiling.

Carefully, Minho shifted. Hinano grumbled a protest when his warmth moved, but Jisung slid smoothly into the space, tucking her against his chest, fitting himself into the corner of the couch with practiced ease.

“I’ve got her,” Jisung said softly. “Go. Before Felix washes every dish twice.”

In the kitchen, the others were already halfway into their usual cleanup dance that happened during days like this where they all got together—Felix at the sink, Chan drying, Seungmin fussing with the coffee machine, Hyunjin and Changbin arguing quietly about whether paper plates counted as environmental crime, Jeongin leaning against the counter with a mug, eyes a little distant. Probably tired from his busy schedule. He was surprised he had made it back in time since last he heard he was in Jeju doing some shoot.

Minho grabbed a towel from Felix without asking, bumping him gently with his hip.

“Trade,” he said.

Felix let out a breath and surrendered the dish, sliding aside to start loading the dishwasher. “Thank you,” he murmured.

“How’s the birthday girl?” Chan asked, keeping his voice low.

“Half melted,” Minho said. “She’ll deny it if you ask, but she’s minutes away from a full system shutdown.”

“If she’s anything like you, she’ll fall asleep sitting upright,” Jeongin said, smirking.

“Slumber efficiency,” Minho shot back.

They let the light jokes hang there for a minute, the clink of plates and the rush of water filling the spaces.

“How are you?” Changbin asked finally, rinsing out a bowl and tossing a handful of cupcake liners into the trash. He didn’t look directly at Minho when he asked it, like he knew eye contact would make it too heavy to lift. “Really.”

Minho watched a line of soap bubbles slide around the rim of a plate. The easy answers—fine, better,okay—arranged themselves in his mouth and didn’t feel right. He thought about Hinano this morning, asking if she was bad for being angry.

If he wanted her to be able to say it honestly, he had to model it.

“Tired,” he said first, because it was true. “Relieved.” He set the plate down a little harder than he meant to. “Angry, still.”

Felix glanced over, brow furrowing. “Angry?”

“At that woman,” Minho said. “At the system. That it took this long. That we had to sit there and let a six-year-old do the emotional heavy lifting.” He rinsed the sponge, shoved it back under the tap. “She wasn’t supposed to have to say those words. She shouldn’t even know how to.” Minho’s throat tightened. He could see it again, whether he wanted to or not: Hinano’s small shoulders squared, her mother’s mouth twisting, the way those eyes had flicked over their girl like she was something stuck to a shoe. The way Hinano had refused to shrink.

“I wanted to jump over that table and beat the hell out of her” he muttered suddenly. “For the way she came in all sweet and innocent, pretending like she actually knew Hinano. Pretending like she had done nothing wrong. She said the nastiest things—to a little girl! It took everything in me to not snap.” He hadn’t cried yesterday. Not really. His eyes had stung, his breath had caught, but he’d swallowed it all down for Hinano, for the signatures, for whatever came next.

Now, standing in Felix’s kitchen with the sink running and the dishwasher waiting and his daughter asleep fifteen feet away, everything he’d pressed down ripped its way back up. The first tear spilled over before he could blink it away. Then another. Then he stopped trying.

Felix turned off the tap without a word. Chan took the plate from his hands. Somewhere to his right, a chair scraped quietly; then Changbin’s solid presence slid in on one side, Hyunjin on the other.

And then he was being pulled—gently, not forced—into the loose, awkward, perfect huddle of them. Felix’s arm around his back. Chan’s hand at the top of his head. Changbin bracing his shoulder. Hyunjin’s cheek against his hair. Seungmin’s hand on his forearm, anchoring. Jeongin’s fingers closing briefly around his wrist.

He hadn’t let himself do this yesterday. He’d kept his spine straight, his expression mild, his voice even. He’d been the safe place, the steady one.

Right now, in this kitchen, in this house, he let go.

A sob pushed its way out, quiet but sharp. He pressed his face briefly against Felix’s shoulder, then against Chan’s, then away, hating crying and needing it and wanting it over and knowing it wasn’t something to rush.

“I was so scared that they would take her away,” he admitted, voice ragged. Minho dragged in a breath that rattled. The kitchen smelled like coffee and dish soap and lemons and sugar and home and Pack. The knot in his chest loosened, just enough.

“Is it really done?” he asked, the tiniest, ugliest part of him still waiting for a shoe to drop. “No more hearings? No more meetings where someone can say we’re not enough? No more ‘temporary placement’ stamped on some form?”

“It’s done, jagi” He heard Jisung’s voice getting closer to him. He must have managed to untangle himself from the sleeping mess of children during his break down. Minho looked up to see him standing there with his hair tousled, shirt wrinkled where Hinano had used it as a pillow. He looked tired. He looked happy. His eyes searched Minho’s face and softened instantly. “I read the ruling. Twice. Our lawyer emailed the final order this morning. It’s all there. Full parental rights. Birth mother’s petition denied.”

Minho’s mouth tugged up. “Good.”

Jisung crossed the kitchen, weaving around Chan and Felix, and sidled up next to Minho, bumping their hips together.

“You okay?” he asked quietly, just for him.

Minho looked at him. Really looked. At the fleck of frosting near his cuff, the curl of hair by his temple, the fatigue in his eyes, the worry that had finally loosened its grip.

He thought of Hinano’s voice over breakfast: If I have mad again later, will you still stay?
The judge’s ruling. The bracelet on her wrist. The music box melody drifting in from the living room. The photo in her hands. The way she’d climbed into his lap like gravity knew where she belonged.

Yeah,” Minho said slowly, surprised by how solid it felt. “I think… I actually am.”

Jisung’s smile went small and bright and devastating. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I have a whole galaxy of feelings to dump on you later.”

Minho let out a real laugh this time. “Looking forward to it.”

He dried his hands properly, let the towel dangle from his fingers, and stood there for a second, shoulder pressed to Jisung’s, listening to the faint sound of the music box, the steady hush of kids breathing in the next room, the low hum of his pack being here.

They had made it through the worst part. The door behind them was closed. Ahead of them, finally, was just… life. Messy and loud and full of love.

He nudged Jisung gently with his elbow. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go sit with her a bit before she wakes up and demands leftover cupcakes for dinner.”

“Bold of you to assume I won’t support that,” Jisung muttered, following.

As they stepped back toward the living room, Minho glanced once over his shoulder—the kitchen full of friends, the sink full of dishes, the table full of crumbs—and let himself feel it all.

It still hurt, in places. It probably always would. But underneath, for the first time, there was something steady.

Ours, he thought.

And this time, nothing in him argued.

Chapter Text

Soft, pink light filtered through the sheer curtains casting a gentle wash over the room, the kind of dawn that made everything look a little unreal. The city beyond the glass was only just waking, but up here in the suite at The Shilla, the world felt held in quiet hands. Cherry trees in the courtyard below were already dusted in pale blossoms, petals drifting lazily whenever the breeze caught them.

Hinano lay on her back for a long moment, staring at the faint pattern of light on the ceiling. Her heart wasn’t racing the way she’d always imagined it might. There was no spike of panic, no tightness in her chest. Just a steady, deep warmth, like a cup of tea held between both palms.

Today is the day.

The thought rose up clean and simple, settling into place with the same surety as her breathing.

She turned her head toward the window, watching another petal tumble past the glass. The suite still smelled faintly of last night’s bath salts and freshly steamed linens, overlaid by her own scent: honeysuckle and green apple, subtle but unmistakable in the still air. She lifted her left wrist from where it rested on her stomach, the familiar jingle of charms breaking the quiet.

Her bracelet caught the sunrise, tiny bits of metal throwing back glints of gold and silver. It had started all those years ago when Lixie-imo and Chan-samchon had given it to her for her birthday with the hamster, bunny and flower charm and throughout the years had been added to.

Twin dragons, twined together—Jang-ho and Jung-seok, always a matched set, always shoulder to shoulder even when they pretended they weren’t.

A little fox, sly and bright for Innie-samchon, because he had always reminded her of one. Graceful and charming.

A small puppy, for Seungmin-samchon because he looked like one and was as loyal as one even if he had balked at that explanation.

A tiny sunburst for Felix-imo, all warmth and bright laughter, the steady center of so many of her days.

A wolf’s head charm for Channie-samchon, sharp-eyed and soft-hearted, the pack Alpha who somehow always knew which way to lead them.

An easel for Hyunjinnie-imo, eternally smudged with something, always creating, always seeing beauty where others saw emptiness.

A slim little barbell with etched ridges for Changbin-samchon, though if she squinted it could almost double as a music note; he had never been just one thing anyway—strength and rhythm, gym and studio, all fused together.

And newest of the set, a small guitar for Tae-yoon, who’d grown up trailing after his appa and samchon, fingers forever picking at strings, humming half-finished melodies under his breath.

Her gaze then followed further down her hand where a ring shown brightly on her finger, not able to stop the smile that spread across her face.

“Today’s the day.” She whispered into the empty room. Today she would marry the love of her life. Her hand then reached up towards her neck where the beaded necklace sat, rolling the treasure chest charm between her thumb and forefinger.

For a few more minutes, she let herself simply be: wrapped in a hotel duvet, on the cusp of a life that asked her to stand in the center of it instead of at the edges.

Then she pushed the covers back and stepped into the day.

By the time the first knock came, she’d showered, pulled on a soft robe, and tucked herself by the window with her knees drawn up, watching the courtyard below come alive. Staff were already moving chairs, arranging white and moss-green ribbons, checking the arch where flowers would later cascade. The sakura trees framed everything with a soft cloud of pink.

“Come in, Bunny.” Hinano called, knowing who it was before it opened.

Her eomma’s hair was pushed back neatly off his forehead greying at the temples, skin glowing in that infuriatingly effortless way; the faint scent of barley tea and rain dampened earth preceded him into the room, familiar and grounding. He wore a crisp shirt with his sleeves already rolled to the elbows, like he was prepared to handle any emergency that might arise between now and the ceremony.

“Good, you’re awake,” he said, as if she’d ever sleep late today, and then his eyes softened. “How are you, Flower?”

“Good.” Hinano surprised herself with how true it was. “Really good.”

He crossed the room in a few easy strides and cupped her face, thumbs brushing her cheekbones as he searched her expression. Whatever he saw there made his shoulders relax.

“Okay,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Then we’re ready.”

“We?” Hinano echoed, but there was no time for an answer.

The suite door burst open again, this time with significantly less restraint.

“Make way for the glam squad!” Felix announced, sweeping in like he owned the hotel. Behind him, a stream of people followed—makeup artists rolling cases, hair stylists with caddies of brushes and irons, wardrobe assistants carrying garment bags, a nail tech balancing an alarming number of tiny bottles in one tray.

Hyunjin trailed slightly behind Felix, a tablet in one hand, stylus tucked behind his ear. His hair was perfectly styled already, of course, and he carried himself with all the drama of a runway director about to stage the show of the century.

“Lighting in here is decent but we can’t rely on decent,” Felix said, scanning the room with critical eyes. “We need spectacular. Hyunjin, curtains?”

“On it,” Hyunjin replied, already striding toward the windows, tapping notes into his tablet as he went. Then pulled the curtains open.

“Good morning to you too,” Hinano said dryly, though her mouth was already pulling into a grin.

Felix’s face softened when he looked at her properly. “Good morning, bride.” He wiggled his fingers. “Are you ready to become even more ridiculously beautiful than you already are?”

“I don’t think that’s possible, but feel free to try,” Hinano said playfully.

Minho snorted. “Careful. Give them too much confidence and they’ll start demanding creative control over your children’s outfits.”

Lixie-imo clutched his chest as if wounded. “As if I don’t already have a Pinterest board for that.”

Another knock sounded, this one more polite but no less familiar and Seungmin stepped in with a cardboard drink carrier hooked in one hand, his other hand shoving his hair out of his eyes. The smell of roasted coffee and his refreshing eucalyptus mint scent—drifted in with him.

“Caffeine delivery,” he announced. “Because I like all of you more when you’re not about to pass out.”

“Seungmin, I could kiss you,” Felix sighed, already reaching for one of the cups.

“Ewe, please don’t” Seungmin deadpanned, passing a cup to Hinano first.

“Tragic,” Felix said, but he leaned in to nudge Seungmin’s shoulder with his own, affection glinting in his eyes. “You labeled them?”

“Of course I labeled them.” Seungmin jerked his chin at the side of the cups, where neat handwriting declared: Bride, E.O.B., Glam Overlord, Drama Queen. “Sugar levels calibrated. Bride gets extra.”

Hinano accepted hers reverently. She took a careful sip and nearly moaned.

“You’re my favorite,” she said.

“Obviously.” He lifted an eyebrow at her.

The room exploded into motion after that.

Wardrobe assistants wheeled a portable rack inside, the garment bag containing Hinano’s wedding gown hung front and center, its outline already making her breath catch. Next to it, on a separate padded hanger, her hanbok for the reception waited: chima, a soft pink that matched the cherry blossom petals falling outside, the cream jeogori tied with a moss green goreum. Nearby, a second mannequin held another hanbok—Jin-Ae’s reception outfit, deep and elegant, cut in masculine lines that made Hinano’s chest tighten just looking at it, even though she kept her eyes away from most of the detail. That part, she wanted to see properly for the first time later.

Steamers hissed to life as stylists plugged them in, clouds of warmth rising as delicate fabrics were smoothed and coaxed into perfect lines. The coffee table disappeared under an explosion of makeup palettes, tiny glass vials with names like “Sakura Dew” and “Morning Veil,” highlighters pressed into pans that looked like crushed pearls. Sheet masks and eye patches were laid out like armor before war.

The suite, Hinano thought, felt less like a hotel room now and more like the backstage of a show, buzzing with energy. But even with all the movement, there was a strange pocket of calm around her, anchored by the steady presence of Bunny at her side.

He stayed close, sometimes chatting lightly with the stylists, sometimes just watching her with that soft, fond gaze that made her feel like she was still the little girl who’d once clung to his sleeve in crowded places. Every time she met his eyes, her shoulders loosened.

“Hinano, let’s start with skincare,” one of the makeup artists said, gently guiding her into the main chair. “You have beautiful skin already, so we’re just enhancing.”

“Translation: we’re going to put fifteen layers of things on you that cost more than my rent,” Seungmin muttered making her almost spit out a sip of coffee she had taken in laughter.

“And you will thank us when you see your photos,” Felix shot back. “Now I have to go help my daughter look just as fabulous as you.” He kissed her cheek before rushing out of the room.

Cool patches were pressed under her eyes, then a hydrating mask that smelled faintly of rose and something powdery. Fingers worked product into her skin with careful, practiced motions; a fine mist labeled “Sakura Water” was sprayed over her face, the droplets settling like dew.

She let them fuss. Let them arrange and perfect and chatter around her. Somewhere behind the clatter of brushes and the hum of steamers, she heard Minho’s low laugh, scolding someone about wrinkling a veil, Hyunjin saying, “No, no, that curl needs to go this way if it’s going to frame her face properly.” Because clearly the professional stylists they hired didn’t know what she was doing.

A knock sounded again, and this time, when the door opened, the whole room shifted.

“Sorry I’m late, parking was a mess,” Jisung said, stepping in and then immediately stopping.

His scent—warm ginger and sandalwood—hit her first, followed by the familiar shape of him in the doorway: slightly rumpled, eyes already a little shiny still devastatingly handsome even if he was pushing fifty.

For a heartbeat, they just stared at each other.

Hinano felt herself smile slowly. “Hi, Sungie.”

He swallowed. “Hi, Flower.”

Behind her, someone murmured, “We’ll take five,” and backed away, giving them space.

Jisung crossed the room like he wasn’t entirely sure his legs were working right, and when he reached her chair, his expression crumpled into something raw and astonished.

“You…” He stopped, cleared his throat, tried again. “You look… you’re not even finished and you look…”

“Like she’s getting married?” Minho supplied gently from the side.

Jisung huffed a laugh that was half sob. “Yeah. That.”

Hinano reached for his wrist, squeezing. “Don’t cry yet. Lixie-imo will kill you if you make my eyes puffy.”

“Good thing he’s helping Jin-Ae get ready now.” he muttered, but he smiled wetly and leaned down to press a kiss to the top of her head. “I brought you something.”

Sliding his free hand into his pants pocket. He pulled out a tiny velvet box, the kind that usually held earrings. Her heart gave a small, anticipatory flip.

When he opened it and her throat went tight.

Inside lay a charm the size of her smallest fingernail: a tiny silver sakura blossom, its petals curved delicately, the center picked out with the thinnest blush of enamel.

“Appa,” she whispered, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

“I know your bracelet is getting crowded,” he said a little sheepish. “But I thought… first spring wedding in the family, cherry blossoms everywhere, you know.” His smile wobbled. “It felt like a good way to honor the day.”

He took her wrist carefully, fingers surprisingly steady now as he clasped it to the bracelet. Each charm chimed against the others as he slid the new blossom into place, his thumb brushing over the dragons, the fox, the wolf, all the little pieces of their life as he went.

“I love it. I love you. Thank you.”

<><><><><><> 

Time blurred after that.

Her hair was curled and pulled into sections that twisted and pinned into an updo that felt both intricate and effortless. Loose tendrils brushed the back of her neck, softening the structure, while tiny silk flowers were threaded through the braids, catching the light whenever she moved. Every time she shifted, she caught glimpses of herself in the mirrors around the room, a stranger and herself all at once.

“No heavy perfume,” she reminded the stylists when they reached for a bottle. Her soon to be mate always said she liked her natural scent best.

“Don’t worry,” Bunny said, intercepting it smoothly. “No scent could beat yours anyway.”

Hyunjin hummed agreement. “Honeysuckle and green apple. It’s perfect for spring. We’d be fools to cover it up.”

Her nails were shaped and painted in a sheer, milky shade, delicate little flowers hand-painted on two accent fingers. Someone massaged lotion into her hands and forearms, kneading away tension she hadn’t noticed she was holding.

The gown came out of its bag at last.

Hinano turned when the assistants lifted it free, the breath leaving her in a quiet rush.

The dress was exactly what she’d chosen months ago, after hours of indecision and too many visits to the bridal shop to try on, but seeing it here, in real light, waiting for her—it felt new again. The bodice hugged her gently, structured but soft, with lace that climbed over her shoulders like vines. Tiny embroidered flowers scattered across the fabric, some stitched in barely-there threads of soft pink and cream, others in subtle mossy greens that echoed their forest palette. The skirt flowed from her waist in layers of tulle and silk, not too poufy but full enough to move like water when she walked.

“Okay,” Seungminnie-samchon said quietly. “Moment of truth.”

They helped her step into it, holding the skirt up so it wouldn’t brush the floor. Cool fabric slid over her skin, settling around her hips and waist with surprising heaviness. Fingers buttoned the back, one after another, each tiny closure fastening with a soft, decisive sound. Someone smoothed the skirt down, another adjusted the sleeves.

Hyune held the veil, watching with an expression caught between pride and awe.

When they were done, the room went still.

“Hinano,” Bunny murmured. “Turn around.”

She did.

For a heartbeat, no one said anything.

Hinano looked at her reflection and felt the axis of her world tilt just a little.

She knew this face. These eyes, this mouth. The slight scar near her hairline from when she’d fallen off the playground slide at eight. The way one eyebrow always tried to arch higher than the other when she was skeptical.

But today, framed by loose curls and scattered blossoms, wrapped in white and softness and all the care they’d poured into every detail, she looked… like all the versions of herself had finally come together at once.

Not the lost little girl. Not the unsure teenager. Not the young woman trying to figure out where she belonged.

Just Hinano. Twenty-six. Loved. Chosen. Choosing.

Her chest swelled, breath catching on the way in.

“Oh,” she said quietly.

Behind her Seungmin muttered, “Damn,” like it had been punched out of him. Bunny made a strangled noise that might have been, “My baby,” and Hyunjin, didn’t even try to hide his tears.

Hinano blinked back her own tears, because if she started now, she might never stop. Bunny came up to her, his reflection looking back at her in the mirror a soft smile on his face.

“Let’s get some air.” His head jerked towards the balcony door and he helped gather the dress so it didn’t drag and followed her out.

The balcony overlooked the gardens, now fully transformed. From here, she could see part of the grounds where the ceremony would happen—stone terraces, the traditional pavilion’s curved roof, the staff placing the last flowers along the aisle. The trees swayed gently, a few more petals breaking free to drift downward.

The city hummed faintly beyond the grounds, muffled by distance and glass. Up here, it was just them.

Minho closed the door behind them, shutting out the bustle inside.

For a moment, he simply looked at her, really looked, like he was trying to memorize every angle, every detail.

“Hi,” she said, half-smiling.

“Hi,” he echoed. His voice was a little rougher now. “I—don’t worry, I’m not going to start sobbing. Yet.”

He took a breath, then reached into his pocket. “I wanted to add something before you go down there.”

He brought out a small charm, the fabric of it soft and familiar even from a distance. An omamori, its brocade a gentle moss green with tiny cherry blossoms stitched across it in pale pink thread.

Hinano’s throat tightened.

“Eomma…”

He came closer, the omamori dangling between his fingers, and gestured toward her bouquet, which had been placed on a small table nearby—a lush mix of whites and greens and just a blush of pink, tied with a moss-colored ribbon.

“May I?” he asked.

She nodded, unable to speak.

Minho picked up the flowers and tied the omamori carefully into the underside of the ribbon, in a place that would be hidden unless someone knew to look. It was a wonderful part of her Japanese heritage and she loved that he had thought of it for her. Leave it to Bunny to make sure she honored every single part of herself.

“For safety,” he said quietly as he worked. “For courage. For love.” He glanced over, meeting her eyes. “For the little girl you were… and the woman you’ve become.”

Hinano’s breath hitched.

The balcony blurred at the edges, the garden and the petals and the pale morning sky all washing together behind the burn of tears.

“Bunny,” she whispered, and the old nickname came out small and reverent, just for him.

He finished the knot and smiled, smoothing his hands down his thighs as if to wipe away the emotion. Then he stepped in close, hands framing her face again the way they had that morning and so many before it.

“I am so proud of you,” he said, each word carved out of the deepest part of him. “Not because you’re getting married. Because of who you are. Because of how you love. You understand?”

She nodded, tears spilling over anyway.

He brushed them away with his thumbs. “You were never broken,” he murmured. “Just waiting for the right hands to help you hold yourself together. You did the rest.”

Hinano made a soft, helpless sound and leaned forward, pressing her forehead to his. For a long moment, they just breathed like that—Bunny and his Flower, the world quiet around them.

“Thank you,” she said at last, voice thick. “For staying. For choosing me. For… all of it.”

He kissed her forehead. “Always.”

A soft knock at the door broke the spell.

“It’s time.” Sungie stood there, looking like he wanted to cry again. “I’m here to escort our bride.”

“Coming,” Minho said, stepping back. He glanced at her again, swallowing hard. “Ready, Flower?”

Hinano looked toward the gardens, toward the path that would take her down among the trees and petals to the person waiting at the end.

“I was loved into this moment,” she said quietly, more to herself than anyone else. “You all raised me toward it.”

Minho’s eyes shone. “You're our entire heart,” he said. “Don’t forget.”

She took a breath, squared her shoulders, and when they went back inside, she was ready.

<><><><><><> 

The walk down toward the ceremony staging area felt like drifting through a dream.

Everywhere she looked, forest softness reigned. The Shilla’s stone terraces were softened by ferns and eucalyptus, white anemones and pale garden roses nestled in moss-lined arrangements along the steps. Delphinium spikes reached up here and there, soft blue touches among the green. The sakura trees arched overhead like a blessing.

In the distance, the first notes of music floated through the air, played by a string quartet positioned discreetly near the pavilion.

Guests sat as they awaited her arrival, murmurs folding in and out with the music. The front row held their family—the pack—like a constellation of familiar faces and scents.

Chan-samchon stood at one end, posture straight but eyes already wet, the steel of his Alpha presence softened by obvious emotion. Lixie-imo was beside him, clutching a handkerchief and dabbing at his eyes preemptively. Tae-yoon bounced his knee, face split in a grin he couldn’t contain, his hair tamed just enough for the occasion

Seungminnie-samchon sat with Jeongin-samchon at his shoulder, fingers laced together, the both of them looking proud and fond and a little stunned. Binnie-samchon and Hyunjin-imo were there too, hands intertwined, Hyunjin’s head leaning briefly against Changbin’s shoulder as they watched the preparations. Jang-ho and Jung-seok were side by side, matching suits somehow still not enough to disguise the mischief that always lurked in their eyes.

There were others—friends, extended family, Jin-Ae’s teammates from the national soccer team, people that worked in her own restaurant—but their scents and faces blurred into a warm backdrop around the focal point ahead.

Hinano hadn’t seen her yet today.

She could feel her, though—the steady, warm presence at the edge of her awareness, even from a distance. It pulled at her like gravity.

Before the procession, there was tradition.

In a small side area just off the main garden, the sake cups waited. Small, shallow dishes set before them on a low, lacquered table, the sake inside gleaming pale.

Hinano and Jin-Ae had agreed they would honor both sides of her heritage today. The bowing to parents, the sake sharing—tiny rituals stitched together, saying without words: we know where we came from, we know who brought us here.

Jisung and Minho stood with her for a brief moment before she stepped forward.

“You okay?” Jisung murmured.

“Yes,” she said, and marveled again at how true it was. “I’m ready.”

He offered his arm, a little shaky, and she took it. Minho squeezed her fingers once more, then went to take his seat at the front, hand already rising unconsciously toward his heart.

Then the ceremony started.

The quartet shifted seamlessly into ‘Merry-Go-Round of Life’ from her and Jin-Ae’s all time favorite movie. People rose, turning to look down the sakura-lined aisle. Flower petals had been scattered along it already, a soft carpet of pink and white on the stone.

Jisung’s arm tensed just slightly under her hand.

“Ready, Flower?” he whispered.

She smiled, heart full. “Walk me home?”

His eyes went bright. “Always.”

They stepped out.

The world narrowed.

She was aware of everything and nothing at once—the weight of her dress moving gracefully around her legs, the delicate tug of the veil, the murmur of guests, the faint rustle of leaves overhead, petals catching in her skirt as they walked.

And at the end of the aisle, squared shoulders and familiar eyes turned toward her.

Jin-Ae.

She stood beneath an arch woven with eucalyptus and baby’s breath, garlands of soft greenery and blossoms framing her like a painting. Her ceremony outfit wasn’t a dress, as everyone who knew her could have predicted; instead, she wore a tailored ensemble that somehow bridged traditional and modern. She stood there in a vision of clean, sculpted elegance. The jumpsuit flowed like liquid light from her shoulders down to the floor, crafted from a pristine ivory fabric that caught every shift of movement. The bodice was structured and daring, strapless with a sharp architectural sweetheart neckline that dipped into a small V—bold without ever losing its grace and showcasing the subtle refined power of her arms that Hinano spent hours tracing . Subtle cutouts at the waist hinted at skin, placed so cleverly that felt like a secret only Hinano was meant to notice. Wide legs that looked almost like a skirt until she moved.

 Her hair was styled back from her face, the bob cut slightly longer than it had been last year, swept in a way that showed off the clean line of her jaw. A single, understated hairpiece sat near her temple, a nod to tradition without overshadowing her.

But it was her expression that hit Hinano hardest.

Jin-Ae looked like someone had just placed the entire world in her hands and she was trying not to drop it. Her eyes moved over Hinano slowly, taking in the veil, the dress, the bouquet, and stopping, inevitably, on her face.

The scent of warm cinnamon and honey surged, wrapping around Hinano like an embrace. Even from across the distance, she felt the way Jin-Ae’s Alpha presence reached and then reigned itself in, respect and awe softening the edges of instinct.

Devastated, Hinano thought. Completely in love.

Her steps didn’t falter.

When they reached the sake table, Jisung passed her gently into Jin-Ae’s care. Their hands shook only slightly as they lifted the cups, sharing the drink with quiet solemnity, three sips each. It was smooth and warm, settling in her stomach like a promise.

Then they moved to stand before their parents—Chan and Felix, Minho and Jisung—and bowed, deep and respectful. It wasn’t a perfect execution of any single tradition, but it was theirs—stitched from every part of their lives, acknowledging everyone who had made room for them.

Finally, Hinano turned back to the arch.

Jin-Ae’s hand came up, palm open.

Hinano stepped forward and took it.

The music shifted again, softening as they moved into place before the officiant.

The rest—words about love and family and choice—washed over her in a gentle hum. She heard bits and pieces, enough to know it was beautiful, but most of her focus was on the warm press of Jin-Ae’s hand in hers, the way her thumb traced slow circles along the scent gland at Hinano’s wrist, grounding her.

“And now,” the officiant said at last, “they have written their own vows.”

Jin-Ae inhaled slowly.

“Can I go first?” she murmured.

Hinano nodded. Her heart felt too big for her ribs.

Jin-Ae turned slightly, angling herself so she was facing Hinano fully. For a moment, she just looked at her, as if the words were caught somewhere between her ribs and she needed to coax them out.

“When we were small,” she began, voice steady but soft, “you used to fall asleep on the couch every time we watched movies. Every single time. No matter what it was—cartoons, action films, documentaries—ten minutes in, you were done.”

A ripple of laughter moved through the guests.

“You’d curl up like a cat, right in the corner, and no matter how loud it got, you stayed asleep.” Her mouth quirked. “I always tried to wrap you in my arms, protect you before I knew that’s what I was doing. Do you remember that?”

Hinano felt heat rush to her cheeks. “I do,” she whispered.

“I didn’t have words for it then,” Jin-Ae went on. “That feeling. The way everything in me settled when you were there. How my chest hurt when you were sad, how the room always felt a little too big when you weren’t in it.”

Her eyes glistened, but she kept going.

“I just knew that you were… important. That you were mine to look out for. Long before I understood anything about bonds or mates or what it meant to be an Alpha, I knew that.” She swallowed, voice going a little rougher. “I knew you.”

Warmth burned behind Hinano’s eyes.

“We grew up,” Jin-Ae said. “We fought, and we made up. We moved apartments and cities and schedules around, we got busy, we messed up, we tried again. And every single time, we chose each other. Even when it would have been easier to let go, we didn’t. You didn’t.”

She squeezed Hinano’s hands, fingers tightening.

“So my vow is this,” she said. “I will keep choosing you. When it’s easy and when it’s hard. When you’re strong and when you forget that you are. I will protect the life we’ve built and the people we love. I will learn with you, grow with you, argue with you when you’re wrong and listen when you’re right.”

A soft chuckle moved through the front row at that.

“I will never stop making a home out of wherever you are. Because you have always been my home, Hinano. Long before I could name it, you were my direction.”

Her voice dropped, intimate, just for them even though everyone could hear.

“If the only thing I do right in this life is loving you,” she whispered, “that will be enough.”

Hinano’s tears finally slipped free.

Jin-Ae’s thumbs brushed them away before they could fall far.

“Your turn,” she said gently.

Hinano took a shuddering breath and laughed, the sound wet and a little broken.

“You know I hate talking in front of people,” she said, earning soft laughter from the crowd. “So just remember that this means I love you very much.”

Jin-Ae’s smile crinkled the corners of her eyes. “I know.”

Hinano looked down at their joined hands.

“When I was little,” she began slowly, “I thought love was something that happened to other people. Something… unobtainable. Something you only got to keep if you were perfect and quiet and never too much.”

“Then, this tiny girl I’d never met grabbed my hand like she’d been doing it all her life and dragged me out the door toward a future I didn’t even dare imagine yet.”

A gentle ripple of laughter moved through the guests.

“I don’t remember everything from that first day.” she continued. “I remember how tight I held my backpack. I remember how loud the mall felt. I remember the moment everything got too big and too scary… and I remember you being the one who stepped in front of me. You looked me in the eye and made it very clear to the world that I wasn’t alone anymore. And you just… never stopped doing that.”

Her gaze locked on Jin-Ae’s. She took a breath, letting it out slowly.

“I didn’t have the words for it then,” she admitted. “I just knew that when you were near, it was easier to breathe. That when you took my hand, new places didn’t feel quite so terrifying. That when you said, ‘She’s with me,’ everything inside me believed you.”

Her fingers tightened around Jin-Ae’s.

“Standing here now, I can finally say it out loud: I was yours long before I understood what that meant,” she said. “I just knew that your presence felt like safety, and that somehow, even on that first day, you were my home.”

Her voice dropped, intimate but sure.

“And with you,” she whispered, “I learned how to be brave. To say yes to a life I never thought I was allowed to want. To stand here and choose you in front of everyone, and to keep choosing you when it’s just us in the quiet.”

Hinano smiled through her tears.

“So my vow is this: I will keep finding you when things feel like too much. I will keep reaching for your hand in crowded rooms and empty hallways. I will stand beside you when the world is loud and when it’s very, very quiet. I will protect the home we’ve built together with the same ferocity you used when you were four and decided I was yours.”

Jin-Ae’s breath shuddered out, her eyes shining so bright they could have lit the whole garden.

Someone in the front row sniffled very loudly. Hinano was pretty sure it was Felix. Or Hyunjin. Or both.

The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur.

Rings slid onto fingers, their cool weight a comforting constant. The officiant said something about witnesses and law and joy. People cheered when they were pronounced married, the sound rising up and tangling with the music and the rustle of sakura petals.

When Jin-Ae leaned in to kiss her, it wasn’t a dramatic dip or a sweeping gesture. It was simple and sure and devastatingly tender, her hand cupping Hinano’s cheek, their scents mingling in the cool spring air—honeysuckle, green apple, cinnamon, honey—home.

The pack erupted.

Changbinnie sobbed openly. Chan clapped so hard his hands must have stung. Minho and Jisung held each other’s hands tight, both of them grinning through their tears. Tae-yoon whooped. Someone—Jeongin—let out a piercing whistle before Seungmin elbowed him.

Petals fell.

<><><><><><> 

The ballroom of the hotel had been transformed into something out of a storybook.

When Hinano and Jin-Ae stepped inside after their quick outfit change, the air was filled with the soft hum of conversation and the faint rustle of hanging flowers. Dozens of strands fell from the ceiling in loosely arranged clusters—baby’s breath, ferns, tiny blossoms—giving the impression that they’d stepped into a forest suspended in midair. Lanterns cast warm, golden light that caught on glassware and petals.

The tables were draped in cream and champagne, centerpieces of green hydrangea and white roses spilling over low vases, eucalyptus winding between candles. The overall effect was exactly what she’d wanted: enchanted woodland elegance, gentle and luminous.

Hinano smoothed her hand over the skirt of her hanbok as they entered, feeling the familiar whisper of the fabric.

Jin-Ae walked beside her in her own hanbok, the lines of it sharp and handsome, the colors deeper—forest greens and rich neutrals that made her look like she’d stepped straight out of some Ghibli-adjacent dream of a guardian spirit. Her short hair, restyled into a more relaxed version of her ceremony look, framed her face in a way that made Hinano’s knees threaten mutiny.

“You’re staring,” Jin-Ae murmured, leaning down slightly.

“Your fault,” Hinano muttered back. “You look illegal.”

Jin-Ae’s mouth curved. “So do you.”

Their hands found each other again, fingers lacing easily.

Chan and Felix were waiting by the main table, eyes shining with a combination of pride, disbelief, and barely contained emotion. Tae-yoon stood slightly behind them, practically vibrating.

“We were supposed to save the crying for the speeches,” Felix said, fanning his face. “But here we are. Again.”

“Just be glad I’m not wearing eyeliner,” Chan muttered, clearing his throat. “You two look…”

“Don’t say perfect, everyone says perfect,” Tae-yoon cut in. “Say… legendary. Iconic. That’s better.”

“Legendary,” Chan corrected, deadpan but fond.

“Iconic,” Felix added.

“Stop giving him attention,” Seungmin muttered as he and Jeongin joined them, though his eyes were warm. “Congratulations, you two. You didn’t trip, so that’s a good omen.”

“Thank you for your kind and supportive words,” Hinano said dryly.

Sungie and Bunny came up from the other side, wrapping both brides in a careful, joint hug that somehow didn’t disturb their meticulously arranged outfits.

“Happy?” Minho murmured in her ear.

Hinano exhaled slowly, letting the sights and sounds and scents of the room wash over her—the pack, their friends, the forest-softness of the decor, the weight of the ring on her finger, the steady presence at her side.

“More than,” she said.

Off to the side she could see Jung-Seok talking to one of her bridesmaids and best friend’s, Lina, who looked suspiciously like her Bunny and made her laugh. Of course out of all the girls here his eye would be drawn to her. A blush crept up on the young man’s face as he no doubt stumbled over his words.

“Well that’ll be interesting.” Jin-Ae laughed.

The first dance came after the meal, lights dimming just enough to make the hanging flowers glow softly. Chan-samchon stepped up to the microphone, tapped it twice, and cleared his throat.

“We, uh, have a special song for you two,” he said, ears turning faintly pink. “Courtesy of some people who like making way too many drafts of things.”

“Like you’re not the worst offender,” Jeongin called from the table, earning a laugh.

Chan rolled his eyes but smiled. “Fine, fine. We put this together for you. Don’t worry, it’s mostly PG.”

“Mostly,” Changbin muttered with a smirk, making Hyune-imo elbow him.

The music started—a gentle piano line, soft but steady, joined by strings and a low, rhythmic beat. It was unmistakably theirs—comfort and warmth and a little bit of mischief woven into the lyrics.

Jin-Ae extended her hand. “Dance with me?”

“Always,” Hinano said.

They moved together easily, like they’d been practicing for years. Maybe they had, in a way—through kitchen sways and hallway twirls and half-dances in the shadows of streetlights on late walks home.

Hinano rested one hand on Jin-Ae’s shoulder, the other in her grasp. Her thumb brushed across the calloused knuckles, the ring glinting against the soft lighting.

During a quieter part of the song, Jin-Ae leaned in, their foreheads almost touching.

“Married,” Jin-Ae reminded her, like it was some delightful secret.

Hinano felt her smile stretch wide. “Married,” she echoed.

“Are you happy?”

Hinano considered for exactly half a second. “Yes. You?”

“Because of you,” Jin-Ae said, and there was no hesitation at all.

Hinano’s heart did a strange, wonderful thing in her chest.

Around them, the pack watched, some swaying along, some pretending not to cry. Felix-imo had leaned fully into Chan’s chest; Chan’s arm was wrapped around him, cheek resting on top of Felix’s head. Bunny and Sungie stood together, fingers intertwined, both smiling that particular smile they reserved for moments like this. Seungmin and Jeongin were attempting to record without shaking the camera too much. Tae-yoon, Jang-ho, and Jung-seok were already plotting…something. She was sure of it.

There were toasts.

Chan-samchon’s came first. Not surprisingly. Always the leader.

“I’m not good at short speeches,” he started, and someone snorted, “Understatement.” He shot them a look. “But I will try. For you two.”

He talked about the first time Jin-Ae had come home with mud all over her clothes because she’d pushed a bully off Hinano and then fallen herself. About how Hinano had once marched into the kitchen, tiny hands on tiny hips, and declared, “If Jin-Ae gets in trouble, I do too,” as if it were a logical conclusion. He talked about watching them grow—separately and together—and how proud he was to see them choose each other like this.

“You’re both stronger and softer together,” he finished, voice thick. “And I don’t know if there’s anything better than that. I love you both. Now go be disgustingly happy so I can get some grandpups before I get too old.”

Sungie’s toast was messier, his notes half-crumpled and abandoned halfway through, emotions spilling over. He spoke about the girl who had arrived in their lives carrying grief in both hands, who had slowly set it down piece by piece with their help. He spoke about Jin-Ae as the kid who had walked in like a small storm and insisted they make space for her, who had grown into a woman who made that space into shelter for others.

“And now you’re doing that for each other,” he said, wiping his eyes. “And I… I don’t think I’ve ever been more grateful for anything than I am for the fact that you both stayed long enough to get here.”

The pack cheered, cried, laughed. There were jokes and teasing and attempts to embarrass the brides with childhood stories. There was cake—Seungmin’s masterpiece, delicate frosting work and flavors that somehow tasted exactly like spring and home. Hinano watched Jin-Ae close her eyes on the first bite and knew they’d be ordering it for every anniversary until Seungmin got tired of them.

There was a father-daughter dance—Sungie leading Hinano out, his hands trembling slightly as he placed one on her waist.

“You’re going to step on my feet,” she said, because teasing him was her birthright.

“Joke’s on you. Your eomma has been practicing with me.”  He replied but his smile wobbled.

They moved slowly, not particularly gracefully, but it didn’t matter. For a moment, it was just the two of them in the center of the room, surrounded by flowers and the low murmur of the people who loved them.

“Thank you,” Hinano said quietly as they turned. “For… all the ways you stayed.”

Jisung’s jaw worked. “I didn’t always get it right.”

“You did enough,” she countered. “You were there. Even when you were tired. Even when I was scared.”

He laughed wetly. “You were scared?”

“So scared,” she admitted. “But you made it feel… survivable. You and Bunny, and everyone. You showed me what choosing looks like, every day.”

She rested her head briefly against his shoulder.

“I know I wasn’t easy,” she whispered. “Back then. Or now.”

“You weren’t supposed to be easy,” he said immediately. “You were supposed to be you. I signed up for all of it. And I’d do it again. Every time.”

Her heart squeezed.

“You gave me a place to be small,” she said. “So I could grow up properly.”

He blinked rapidly. “You grew up very properly,” he croaked. “Too properly. Could you stop, actually? Reverse a bit?”

She laughed, the sound bubbling out of her.

He sniffed, clearing his throat. “I’m glad she’s the one you’re walking with now,” he said. “I’m glad I get to watch you both be… this... this…”

“Happy?” she offered.

“Happy,” he echoed.

<><><><><><> 

Later, there was a smaller toast—one she insisted on making.

Hinano stood, glass in hand, the din of conversation quieting as people turned toward her. The lights glowed soft and warm, the hanging flowers swaying almost imperceptibly.

“I promise I’ll keep this short,” she said, earning a few skeptical laughs. “I just… I wanted to say thank you. To all of you.”

Her eyes swept the room—the pack, their extended family, friends who had become more like siblings, staff who had stayed with them for years, trainees who turned into idols.

“You took a girl who felt very small and very lost,” she said, “and you didn’t ask her to become someone else. You just… stayed. You stayed when I was quiet and when I was loud, when I was kind and when I wasn’t, when I knew what I wanted and when I had absolutely no idea.”

She swallowed, the room blurring slightly.

“You showed me that family isn’t something you have to earn,” she went on. “It’s something you build. Something you maintain. You loved me when I didn’t think I deserved it. You loved me until I could love myself, and then you kept going.”

Her gaze found Minho and Jisung, sitting together, hands entwined.

“Bunny, Sungie,” she said softly. “You were my first home. You held so much for me when I couldn’t hold it myself. You taught me that it was okay to need, to ask, to lean.”

They both looked like they were barely holding it together.

She took a breath, feeling the weight of the ring on her finger, reaching out for Jin-Ae’s hand and feeling the warmth of it in hers.

“And because of that,” she said, voice steady despite the tears gathering again, “I got to grow into someone who could stand here today and say yes to this life. To this love. To all of you.”

Her eyes sought Jin-Ae’s, the rest of the room falling away again.

“You taught me how to love gently,” she said, voice dropping into something intimate that still carried, “so I could love boldly. I’ll spend the rest of my life doing both—with all of you as my witnesses. And with you,” she nodded toward Jin-Ae, heart in her throat, “as my mate, my partner, my home.”

Glasses lifted. The pack cheered and cried and clinked and hugged. Someone—probably Tae-Yoon—yelled, “To the brides!” and the room echoed it back.

The night spun itself out in laughter and dancing and small, quiet moments—Minho and Hinano swaying slowly in a corner, his tears finally falling freely; Tae-yoon spinning Jin-Ae around until they were both dizzy; Seungmin begrudgingly admitting the cake was almost as good as he’d planned; Innie filming everything with a promise to edit something “tasteful and not chaotic, maybe.”  Jung-seok against a wall talking to giggling Lina.

Eventually, the music softened, the guests trickled away in clusters of goodbyes and see-you-soons. Staff began the slow process of clearing tables and extinguishing candles.

Hinano and Jin-Ae slipped outside.

The air had cooled; night settled softly over the gardens. Lanterns glowed along the paths, and the sakura trees were darker shapes against the sky, their blossoms pale even in the dim light. A few petals still drifted down, catching the light like tiny falling stars.

They walked side by side along one of the quieter paths, fingers intertwined, the sounds from the ballroom fading into a gentle murmur behind them.

“So,” Jin-Ae said eventually. “How does it feel? Being married to me.”

Hinano hummed. “Like I’ve been married to you for years and we just finally told everyone else.”

“Accurate,” Jin-Ae conceded.

They stopped beneath one of the trees, petals gathering in soft drifts around the base. The night smelled like blossoms and cool stone and their mingled scents.

Hinano turned to face her fully, lifting their joined hands between them. The bracelet charms chimed softly, the little cherry blossom catching the lantern light.

“My wife,” Jin-Ae said quietly, like she was testing the shape of it.

Heat bloomed in Hinano’s cheeks. “Say that again.”

“My wife,” Jin-Ae repeated, firmer this time. Her eyes were shining, mouth curled in a soft, disbelieving grin. “My mate. My everything.”

Hinano made a weak sound. “That’s illegal. You can’t just say things like that.”

“Pretty sure I can,” Jin-Ae said. “We have paperwork.”

Hinano laughed, tipping her head back for a moment, watching a petal drift lazily down toward her. When she looked forward again, Jin-Ae’s eyes had gone heavy intent.

“What?” Hinano asked, breath catching.

Jin-Ae stepped closer, so that the space between them shrank to almost nothing. Her gaze dropped briefly to the moss-green tie of Hinano’s hanbok, then back up to her face, a slow, wicked smile tugging at one corner of her mouth.

“Come here,” she murmured.

Her fingers found the tie at Hinano’s waist, curling around it gently. She gave it a careful, insistent tug, pulling Hinano the last inch into her, their bodies aligning like they always had, like they always would.

Petals fell around them as the night held its breath.

Hinano’s hands came up to Jin-Ae’s shoulders, then around her neck, ring cool against warm skin. Their foreheads brushed, noses bumping softly, the world narrowing to the warmth of Jin-Ae’s breath and the steady, sure beat of her heart against Hinano’s chest.

“I love you,” Jin-Ae whispered.

Hinano smiled, tears and laughter and love all tangled in the sound.

“I love you too,” she whispered back, and then closed the remaining distance, kissing her under the sakura trees as petals drifted down like blessings onto the life they’d chosen, and all the love that had carried them there.