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Wake up call

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“I’m sure I can manage on my own. I’m not a fucking baby.” Namjoon has answered this question at least three times in the last fifteen minutes. Hoseok looks at him thoughtfully, releasing a defeated sigh.

“Fine. Stop whining, you’re starting to sound like one,” Seokjin laughs a little from where he’s standing behind Hoseok, holding the door open as the rest of the pack leave one by one. Hoseok shoots him a stern look. Seokjin mimes the zipping of his mouth. “Just...don’t do what you usually do, and you’ll hopefully be in one piece when we get back.”

Namjoon smiles softly at his best friend, "Yes, sir.” A faint blush colors Hoseok’s cheeks at the title, he coughs a little into his fist, muttering a small “Good.”

He waves at all six of them as the door is shut behind them. Namjoon heaves a sigh of relief once he no longer hears the retreating footsteps of his housemates. His sprained ankle hurts with the effort of sustaining his weight.

His friends had all decided to take a breather from school the week before it starts, and Namjoon being his coordinated self, fucking crashed his bike on the way home from the library. He had hopped all the way to the elevator leading to their excessive apartment, groaning and moaning about how he just wanted one peaceful night. Of course his pack had been less than happy that he sprained his ankle, offering to go to the beach some other time when Namjoon’s ankle is healed. He had declined, saying that they all deserved to let loose and not to let Namjoon be the one to ruin that.

Only after reasoning with all of them that he’d be able to relax in the apartment and that he’d be fine on his own, do they agree to leave him at home.

Namjoon’s been watching this documentary on tissue paper and he’s absolutely bored, and he knows just the people who could help with that. He pulls up his group chat with two other people.


Woo Jihoe
Suck it losersssssss :p



Monday 2:16pm

Hey bitchezzzz the pack’s out. Coming back tomorrow late morning. wanna hang?
Delivered

 

Namjoon turns his phone off, standing up to get himself a glass of water. His phone dings from where he threw it haphazardly on the coffee table. He picks it up and sees that Jackson and Jiho replied.

 

Jackson Wan(g)k [ 2:20 ]
Fuck yeah, joonie. Your place????? ;]

Woo Jihoe [ 2:22 ]
Be there after i fix the reverb on this fucking track :/
Beer?

Yesyesyeysyesyes and snackumsssss plis 0-0


Jackson Wan(g)k [ 2:26]
Whatever you say, babe ;)

Woo Jihoe [ 2:27]
Gross.
But yeah, whatever you say, babe ;)

I lobe yui guys so muxh <3 <3 <3
Delivered

 

He spends the time waiting for his friends by changing in and out of clothes repeatedly. The temperature’s so weird today, when he’s wearing clothes it’s too damn hot but the moment he strips he’s shivering from the cold. Namjoon thinks he might have gotten the flu, his body aches so much.

He pays the pain no mind, cleaning up around the living room to give the illusion that he has his shit together, when all he really wants to do is down some pain relievers and lay down. He plops his body onto the plush couch, his body groaning in relief.

He doesn’t even notice he’s dozed off until he hears the sound of their keypad beeping when someone punches in the right code. He sits up from where he was laying on the couch, rubbing the sleep away with his fist to see better. He can hear plastic rustling and soft coos, he looks up smiling.

“I love it when you’ve just woken up,” Jackson speaking to him in english, setting the plastic bags of who knows what on the dining table. “You’re always so...fluffy.” Namjoon makes a face at that, Jackson sees and barks out that boisterous laugh of his, immediately making namjoon feel better.

The older moves to sit next to Namjoon, close enough for him to smell the alpha but too far for Namjoon’s tastes if he was being perfectly honest. Namjoon is a little annoyed that Jackson isn’t sitting close enough and he doesn’t know why he’s annoyed, he usually prefers some distance especially when it’s so goddamned hot. Jackson’s head shoots up from where he’s looking down at his phone, confusion and mild shock written on his face.

“What?” Namjoon says, voice rough with sleep. The older of the two looks at him, searching for something.

“Are you okay?” Jackson asks, concern evident in the furrow of his brows, leaning closer. “You seem...off.”

“What? I don’t- I don’t...huh?” Namjoon is disoriented, he can smell Jackson so well. The heady scent of sunshine and dewy grass invading Namjoon’s sense of smell.

“You were whining,” Jackson tells him slowly as if he wouldn’t understand him had he spoken any faster and he’s probably right. Namjoon is a little lightheaded like he drank four bottles of beer.

Wait.

“Whining?” He’s aware his voice sounds airy and if Jackson takes notice he doesn’t point it out. “Why would I do that? Also, can you maybe sit closer? I feel like that’ll soothe my growing headache.” Jackson takes pity on his friend, scooting to sit closer. This time, close enough for him to drape his arm across Namjoon’s shoulders, close enough to rest his head in the crook of Jackson’s neck, nosing at the column. Namjoon hates to admit it but even he knows he’s purring, mild embarrassment forgotten because he feels infinitely better than when Jackson wasn’t petting his head.

They stay like that for a while before Jackson breaks the silence. “Joonie,” he whispers. “I don’t know why, but you smell so fucking good.” Namjoon can hear the slight growl in the older’s voice, removing his head from where he was unconsciously nuzzling Jackson’s scent gland. “You smelt good before but now— fuck. You smell like- like an omega.” They both realize what’s happening and jump apart.

They hear the keypad beeping as Jiho walks in, looking confused as the two of them stare frantically at him. “Okay...what happened?”

“I think Namjoon’s presenting.” It’s Jiho’s turn to look taken aback.

“That’s impossible. Namjoon presented as a beta three years ago.” The eldest slowly shakes his head, “And besides, the latest someone can present is at twenty-two. Namjoon’s twenty-three.”

The three of them sit in silence, Namjoon speaking up. “Yeah, Jackson, I presented as a beta. My parents are betas, I can’t possibly be an omega.” Jackson breathes easy, nodding.

“I guess you’re right. You still smell so good though.” Namjoon lightly punches his arm. The dizziness from a while ago leaving him as he laughs at a joke jackson cracks.

The three of them are seated in three different states of disarray; Namjoon sprawled across the couch, hand under his shirt to cool his heated skin, Jackson sitting on the carpeted floor, back leaning against the couch, and Jiho sitting on the loveseat next to Namjoon, feet propped on the coffee table. It’s been a few hours since they started, they’re all buzzed, choosing to slow down a little because getting wasted is not the point— talking is.

“Hey, Jackson.” Namjoon eases into english, a way for him to practice he had reasoned to Jackson. He waits for the other to acknowledge him, only continuing when Jackson asks what’s up. “I’m hot. And lightheaded.” He concentrates on his words, they sound weird. Like he’s talking underwater.

Jiho and Jackson look at him and then at each other before snickering in that loud obnoxious way they do. “Well, of course you are, Joonie. You are a light-weight. Always have been.” Jiho verbally agreeing from his seat in the chair. Jiho may not speak it well but he does understand everything they’re saying.

“No. Not like that. Like- like…” He worries his bottom lip between his teeth, missing the way Jackson’s eyes seem to glaze over the tiniest bit. “Like I have a fever.” At that, Jiho stands from his seat and walks over to him, he places the back of his hand on Namjoon’s forehead, hissing at the contact.

The beta looks concerned, “It’s ‘cuz you do have a fever, Joon. Shit. You should’ve told us.” The eldest stands and Jackson immediately takes his place, worry etched between his brows. He can hear stuff clattering from the kitchen.

“I knew you seemed off,” the alpha places his hand on the side of his face, thumb softly rubbing at the tops of his cheek. Namjoon leans into the touch, he doesn’t undertsand why but he needs to have someone touch him. Jackson growls low and appreciative at the back of his throat, the alpha in him showing for a fraction of a second.

Namjoon can hear Jiho walk back into the living room, setting down the basin filled with ice water and a towel cloth. “Jacks, help me carry Namjoon to his room.”

“It’s okay, hyung. I got him.” And with that, Jackson asks Namjoon to sit up so he can carry him on his back. He grabs the bottom of his thighs, bringing them around his waist, and hefting up. Like this, He’s so close to Jackson’s scent gland and he’s a little dizzier but that doesn’t stop him from nosing at it.

Jackson stops in his tracks when he realizes what Namjoon’s doing, he bites back the growl threatening to come out and be heard by Jiho. He finally gets to Namjoon’s shared room, walking to the bed riddled with Ryan plushies, and gently lowers the taller boy down. Staring hazily at him.

Jiho comes in and sets the basin on top of Namjoon’s desk, wringing the towel cloth before placing it on Namjoon’s forehead. Repeating this until, eventually, Namjoon falls asleep, hoping that it will bring his temperature down. “I think you should go home, Jacks.” Jackson looks at the taller. “I’m not entirely sure if this fever is a regular one.” He looks worried, eyes shifting from where they were looking at Jackson to looking down at Namjoon’s prone figure. “And if what I’m thinking is right...his pack wouldn’t want you near him right now.”

Jackson understands what he’s implying, he knows it’s not a good idea to stay, just like how he knows Namjoon’s scent is getting stronger — thicker. Almost palpable on his tongue. His nose flares, breathing in the petrichor and the underlying tones of dark chocolate, like hot cocoa on a rainy day. He knows he should leave but god Namjoon smells so fucking good . He takes a step closer to the bed, itching to get behind Namjoon and just scent him, his alpha almost taking control.

Jiho stops him before he can get any closer, taking in his face; eyes glazed and mouth slack. “I’m gonna call Jaebum and ask him to pick you up, stay outside while you wait.” He pushes Jackson to the door without much difficulty, at least he’s still in the right mind to back down, closing the door after him. He dials Jaebum’s number and tells him the bare minimum.

He’ll be here in five.

Good.

He has time to calm himself down. Namjoon smells like heaven, even to Jiho’s less sensitive nose. He’s going to have to scent block a mask and wear it the whole night if he wants to make sure Namjoon’s okay.

When he hears the front door clicking shut, he rummages around Namjoon’s desk looking for the small glue stick like scent blocker. Huffing when he finds it just under Namjoon’s wallet. Luckily, he finds a box of masks just near the desk. Now wearing the improvised scent blocker, he tends to Namjoon, patting down the sides of his face with the cool damp cloth. Namjoon shivers at the touch and whines about it being too hot and too cold at the same time.

Hours pass like this, changing what’s in the basin to clean and colder water, trying to lower the fever down but to no avail, giving him sips of water because Namjoon starts coughing when his throat is dry. Jiho sighs as he looks at the thermometer in his hand, Namjoon had gone to bed with a mild fever of thirty-eight degrees celsius, now he has a high fever shooting upwards of forty-two degrees. He’s been trying all night to bring it down, it just won’t budge. The next time he looks up, he can see the sunlight peeking through Namjoon’s curtains.

If this is what he suspects this is, the only way to break Namjoon’s fever is to have his pack with him. He heaves another sigh, his phone rings as he waits for Seokjin to answer his call, he’s most probably the one awake.

“Jiho?” He can hear the confusion in the slightly younger man’s voice.

“Hey, uh, what time will you guys be home?” He tries his best to sound flippant.

“We’re on our way now…what’s wrong?” Seokjin sounds even more confused. “Wait. How’d you know we weren’t home? Were you guys getting smashed in our apartment again?” Jiho ducks his head in embarrassment even though the other can’t see.

“Yeah, sorry. But I need to know what time you’ll be home.” He says a little bit urgently. He has a seminar to be at in an hour, he can’t not go.

“An hour and a half tops.” Jiho curses away from the phone.

He nods to himself, Namjoon can be left alone for an hour, right?

“Okay. Could you be a little faster though? Namjoon has a fever and I have to get to a seminar, like, right now.”

There’s a pause and then Seokjin’s speaking again, “Is his fever bad?” He can hear disgruntled huffs coming from his end. Seokjin’s probably driving faster.

“Almost bad enough to warrant a hospital dash, but it’s enough just to have someone here.” He answers truthfully.

“One hour.” Seokjin speaks lowly into the receiver, “We’ll be there in one hour. Thank you, Jiho.”

Jiho thinks that’s a good enough dismissal and lightly shakes the younger awake. His skin hotter to the touch than it was an hour ago. He checks his temperature again and it’s gone up one more degree. Namjoon’s sweating profusely, shuddering under his comforter, pupils blown. “‘m c- cold.”

“I know, Joonie. I know.” He soothes the younger by running his hand through his damp hair. He guesses he can stay for another five minutes.

“Namjoon-ah, I’m leaving now. Seokjin will be here in forty minutes. Drink lots of water, okay?” He whispers, looking at Namjoon’s growing state of distress. The latter whimpers, tears threatening to roll down his temples.

“O- okay.” Namjoon swallows down, before adding a small “Thank you, hyung.” Jiho feels bad that he has to leave Namjoon, especially with the way he looks so dejected. He kisses the younger’s forehead and noses at his neck to comfort him.

He leaves the apartment with heavy footsteps thinking how the pack’s gonna be in for one hell of a surprise when they get home.

He prays that none of them fuck shit up.

Chapter Text

Very few are the moments wherein Kim Seokjin would consider the act of murder. Unfortunately, this day just so happens to be one of them.

“Fuck!” He honks the horn as long as he can ‘cause fucking road maintenance decided that now was the best time to do their job, causing traffic that goes on for miles. Add to that a slightly worried-but-playing-it-off-as-if-he-isn’t Min Yoongi, constantly reminding him in a hushed tone that ‘The call won’t push through, hyung. Namjoon’s phone is dead.’ and you get a recipe for panic and mild fear.

“Yoongi, this is the third time you’ve told me this.” He spares the younger a side-long glance, “Tell me something I don’t already know.” He’s trying to keep his voice levelled and calm seeing as that the others are asleep, oblivious to the two alphas' episode. He can barely handle one disgruntled man, let alone four more.

“What we don’t know, hyung, is whether or not Namjoon’s even conscious.” Yoongi speaks in that lazy drawl of his, only sounding the least bit on edge. “You told Jiho-hyung that we’d get there in an hour. It’s been two, and it doesn’t look like we’ll be getting home any time soon.” Seokjin’s mild headache is getting worse the longer it takes to get to Namjoon. 

“We’ll get there. Just...stay still for a second, all your twisting and turning is just making my headache worse.” 

They sit in silence for a while, inching closer to the city, when Seokjin speaks up, “Try asking help from our friends?” He’s hopeful, he can hear it in his voice.

“I tried asking the others for help but they all went to that music festival in Busan.” Yoongi taps at the dashboard, a nervous tick of his.

“I’m pretty sure we can call 119 to barge into our apartment and take Namjoon to the hospital.” He can see the younger shaking his head from his peripherals.

Yoongi doesn’t answer for what seems like eternity.

“No need. We’re close. We’ll get there.” He’s looking straight ahead, shoulder tense. Seokjin can only step on the gas a little harder, and hope that Yoongi’s right.

 

~•~

 

The first thing Namjoon realizes when he wakes up is that he’s thirsty, so fucking thirsty it feels like his tongue is made out of sandpaper . The second thing Namjoon realizes is that his body is overheating, can feel the heat radiate off of himself, his skin feverish and flushed. The third and final thing Namjoon realizes is that he’s hornier than he’s ever been in his whole life.

And that’s saying a lot.

He reaches for the glass of water he knows is on his nightstand, Jiho had reminded him to drink it. It hasn’t even been that long since the beta left, maybe about fifteen minutes. Reaching over to grab it, he sees his room tilt on its axis for one second and the glass falling to the floor in another, shattered and everywhere. “Shit!” He sits up, bracing himself on the edge of his bed, his vision swimming. He moves to stand only to fall back onto the bed.

It’s stiflingly hot in his room, he checks the air conditioning unit and sees that it is, in fact, on. He huffs and grumbles before ridding himself of his shirt. Debates over it for a few seconds, but ultimately decides to shed his shorts off too. Pulling the article down, the garter catches onto his dick and he lets out a long involuntary moan. He shucks them down and off him, keeping his boxers on.

Why the fuck is he so hard.

He props up on his elbows, looking down at his clothed aching cock, thinking whether or not he should take care of it. Nah , he feels too sluggish to do anything. He probably won’t even clean the shards of glass lying on his room’s drenched carpeted floor. But he will get a glass of water to quench his Saharan thirst.

He carefully and slowly walks around the mess, sticking his arms out for balance. He’s still so hot and thirsty and nauseated. This is the worst case of flu he’s ever had.

Making his way down the hall and into the large kitchen, he goes straight to the fridge to pour water from the pitcher directly into his mouth. He goes through half of the container before he feels even a little bit quenched.

He’s only been moving around for a few minutes when the heat gets to be too much to handle. He checks the thermostat in the living room, telling him that it’s still at a cool temperature of sixteen degrees celsius...huh. It’s as if with every minute passing by, his temperature goes up. He tries to endure it at first, thinking he’ll cool down given some time.

Wrong.

He briskly walks towards the fridge and swings open the freezer section. Pulling out trays of ice, he carries them all to the bathroom and dumps them into the tub, filling it with even colder water. When it fills to just above half-full, he slinks in. Groaning as his fevered skin almost hisses when coming into contact with the cold. Relief washing over him.

Relief doesn’t last long and he wakes with a start, the water in the tub lukewarm to the touch. This time he knows that what he had felt earlier is nothing compared to what he’s feeling right now. What he thought as ‘hot’ before is almost laughable in its coolness compared to the heat Namjoon is feeling, like there’s molten lava running through his veins.

He drains the tub, returns the stopper, and fills it with cold water again. The relief is shorter than the last; a measly ten minutes of cooled skin. He groans, frustrated with himself for catching the flu. Wasting water won’t do anything to cool his skin any more than it has already done. At least he’s not as hard anymore. Small mercies.

He stands up or, at least, he thinks he does, his mind hazy and blurred at the edges. He steps out of the tub and onto the tiled floor, labored breaths amplified by the acoustics in the bathroom. Wrapping a towel around his wet body, he trudges to his room ready to pass out a third time, maybe he’ll wake up and his fever will have broken.

Before he can jump back into the comfort of his bed, he locks the door to the room. He can’t have anyone walking in on his half-naked self, it’s always been a competition in his pack to take as much blackmail material as possible. Again, avoiding the shards of hell on the floor, he crashes face-first, groaning into his warm comforter, smelling vaguely of chocolate.

 

~•~

It seems that with every time Namjoon wakes up from a nap, he’s feeling four times as bad as he did before he slept.

Namjoon wakes up with sweat pouring out of every surface of skin, the worst migraine up to date, head throbbing just as hard as his dick, and something wet and slick between his ass cheeks.

He also notices that he’s somehow managed to make himself completely bare. His boxers strewn across the floor. He breathes a shaky sigh and is immediately attacked by an onslaught of scents, he can smell his pack just a tad bit more clearly, as if he had previously lived his life with a dull sense of smell.

The most prominent being his roommate’s—Taehyung’s—warm lavender and sunshine, smelling so much like a lavender field he can almost relax. Almost. His scent is making Namjoon’s vision go hazy, jaw slack, and mouth watering. He breathes it in almost greedily. Namjoon experimentally moves his hips against his covers, moaning at the friction. His dick is trapped between his body and the bed, he’s so painfully hard.

He repeats the action, this time harder. Namjoon can hear himself, can hear how wrecked he is just from rutting against the sheets. He feels like a pup- impatient and erratic. The faster and harder he grinds down, the faster his orgasm approaches.

Namjoon can feel the familiar stirring in his gut, his eyes rolling back, drool making its way down his cheek and onto his bed, his moans louder than the traffic he can vaguely hear from the outside. His rutting shameless and uncoordinated. He ruts harder and faster until he stills, mouth hanging open in a silent moan, cum damp and sticky beneath his body.

He lays motionless, breathing noisily into the quiet room, aftershocks wracking through his body as he tries to regain his breathing. “Fuck…” He says to no one in particular, relishing in the way his body relaxes, shoulders loose. He rolls over onto his back, groaning when the cold air blows on his half-hard cock and the drying cum on his stomach. He briefly regards the mess he’s made of his covers and grimaces knowing he’ll have to throw them in the wash when everyone’s asleep.

Namjoon can barely revel in his sated state when he feels his throbbing cock, laying heavily atop his abdomen, flushed, and leaking pre-cum. He bites his lip, mildly concerned over the fact that he’s about to jack it to one of his best friends, reaching his right hand down to wrap around his length, moaning when he gives it a loose-gripped tug, any lingering nagging conscience disappearing. He breathes through his nose, smelling everyone’s unique scents, focusing on Taehyung’s.

He closes his eyes, imagining the young beta looming over him, caging him in until all Namjoon can see is the beta watching him with hooded eyes, breaths labored as Namjoon pumps his length, gathering the pre-cum and sliding it over his shaft, allowing his hand to glide over easily. Imagines Taehyung’s hard length grinding down on his thigh, mouthing at his neck as he whispers praises into the older’s ear, groaning that his hyung is being such a good boy for him, and fuck he moves his hand faster, chasing his orgasm. He bites his left forearm until his body spasms as he milks himself, spurting heavily onto his stomach.

He can’t believe he just came twice in the span of ten minutes. He waits till he comes down from his high.

Namjoon’s exhausted. He can’t move, his vision is still blurry, his breaths slow and labored. He tries, again, to get up only to find out his legs have turned to jelly, his arms not faring any better. Namjoon whimpers, he just got off but he feels unsatisfied, his semi laying heavily on his hipbone. He’s still so fucking turned on he wants to cry in frustration.

What’s wrong with him. Why can’t he get off and stay sated. It’s almost as if he’s an omega in heat.

He shifts on his side, ass cheeks easily slipping against each other. He stills, reaching back to run a finger down his crack, coming up wet and fucking glistening .

Slick.

Fucking slick .

Namjoon takes in his fever, his excessive sweating, his thirst, his insatiable desire to get off, oh and the fucking slick oozing out of his asshole, and realizes belatedly that he’s in heat. A full fucking heat , betas can only get into half-heats, and that’s only when a close-by alpha is in rut. Realizes that he’s only been in pre-heat for fifteen hours.

Fuck.

It’s only going to get worse from here on out.

 

~•~

It took them just a little over three hours before they arrived at their apartment building. That's two hours too long, if you ask Yoongi.

Seokjin and Yoongi had purposefully withheld information about Namjoon’s fever, deciding against four panicked men to worsen their growing anxiety. They’re in the lobby, waiting for the elevator to ding open, the two eldest fighting the urge to bolt up the emergency stairs to get to the thirteenth floor where their apartment is.

The two walk in front of the pack, wanting to get on and off the elevator as fast as possible. The lift on the way up seems to drag on far longer than it would usually take, stopping on floors where no one would get on. As soon as the shiny metal doors open on the thirteenth, Seokjin speed-walks towards the end of the hall, Yoongi not falling behind.

The four youngest are making a ruckus, animatedly recalling their brief vacation. Yoongi gently tells them to ‘Shut up. Seokjin can’t even punch in the code right cuz y’all too loud.’ The eldest alpha steadies his hand and presses the numbers 61213 and releases a deep exhale when the door unlatches.

He pushes the door open.

“Namjoonie, we’re hom-” before Hoseok can even finish the sentence all six heads shoot up, the smell of a very potent and heady scent invading their nostrils— the smell of hot chocolate in a thunderstorm, except thicker and stronger...the smell of sex.

“Namjoon?” Seokjin scans the small group behind him, takes in the way their noses flare, their eyes glazing over, jaws clenched, and shoulders tense. They hear a soft whimper from Namjoon and Taehyung’s shared bedroom, heads snapping in the direction it came from.

They still.

No one daring to move.

“Fuck.” Yoongi breaks the silence, sounding a little bit dazed, breathing heavily through his nose, pushing past the older alpha as he stalks to where their leader is.

Chapter Text

Namjoon brought a fucking omega to their apartment .

That’s the first thought Yoongi had upon moving past their apartment’s front door and into their foyer, because that’s certainly what it smelled like; Namjoon’s faint petrichor and chocolate, now amplified and surrounding, mixed in with the sweet sweet intoxicating scent of an omega in heat.

Or, so he thought.

The longer Yoongi breathed in the velvety aroma, the more aware he is of the absence of a foreign scent. The lingering smell of Jiho and Jackson not even note-worthy. The deeper the alpha breathed, the more his suspicions were proven.

Namjoon isn’t a beta. He’s an omega.

And he’s in heat.

He can hear his pack breathing heavily from beside him, can see the way their shoulders come up, high and tense, can hear the soft growls they’re trying so hard to stop. Yoongi and Seokjin aren’t any better; they’re both trying their best not to let the smell cloud their minds, but it’s proving difficult.

And only then does he realize that none of them have ever been around an omega in heat before, well, none from outside the pack they were born in. All of them having come together and forming their make-believe ‘pack’ just before presenting.

Fate would have it that four of them present as alphas; Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jungkook, while Namjoon, Jimin, and Taehyung presented as betas. It may not have been the perfect dynamic but it wasn’t all that bad. For one, the absence of pheromones constantly emitted by an unmated omega greatly lessened the intensity of the pack’s alphas’ ruts, needing no more than to get off in the bathroom with only a handjob.

They aren’t a pack per se, resembling more a group of wolves that ‘hang together’, the only semblance to being a pack that they have is the promise to become a pack once everyone had presented. And they were just about to do the binding ritual, Jungkook having presented just half a year ago.

Yoongi—they—thought everything would be smooth sailing from then on out.

Fate can be a bitch sometimes.

Yoongi’s head clears the moment a whimper reaches his ears, even if for a second, he could hear the pain in the person’s —Namjoon’s, he knows it’s Namjoon’s— voice. His blood turns cold, the familiar shiver of arousal tickling the base of his spine subsiding. When no one makes a move towards the sound, he shoves down any and all hesitation and hastily walks the few meters to Namjoon and Taehyung’s room. The rest following in trepidation.

Fast strides taking him to the brown door in a matter of seconds. He knocks once. No answer. He knocks a second time. Still, no answer. Only when he has knocked two more times do they hear somewhat of a response, a small whimper followed by a sob.

Yoongi is on auto-pilot, moving to open the door, only to find it locked. He jiggles the doorknob, hoping that it would loosen the screws and make it come undone. He can’t think straight, the only thing running through his mind was Namjoon Namjoon Namjoon . Yoongi feels someone gently push him aside, when he looks up, he sees Jungkook’s hard-set jaw and glare, murmuring something towards the door. Yoongi only registering a ‘stay back, hyung’.

Next thing they know it, Namjoon’s door is being kicked down by the youngest alpha, swinging open on the second kick.

If they thought Namjoon’s scent was intoxicating forty meters back, nothing would have prepared them for the absolute veil of petrichor and chocolate that blanketed them the moment the door opened. The air thick and dense with Namjoon’s scent, so thick that Yoongi is sure all of them can taste it on their tongues.

Everyone doesn’t know what to do with themselves, the rich scent of arousal making them slowly lose any and all independent thoughts, minds as if they were underwater. He looks up from where he had unconsciously looked down, noticing the shards of broken glass on the floor by Namjoon’s bed.

“Fuck.”

Yoongi looks at Hoseok, the younger alpha breathing heavily, nodding at the older to look in front. What he sees has his pants tightening instantly.

There Namjoon is, stark naked on his bed, the side of his face smushed into the pillow, skin flushed from head to toe, whining as he slides four fingers in and out of himself, other hand in his mouth as he sucks on his long fingers, drool running down his forearm. His eyes are hooded, pupils blown to almost black, brows furrowed as he works himself against his fingers, pushing back to meet his thrusts.

His bed is a mess, covers and pillows and plushies strewn across the room, blanket pushed to the corner of his bed. The actual mattress sullied with cum and slick. It should be gross but fuck if it isn’t turning them on even more. The image of Namjoon getting off with reckless abandon has his mouth watering.

Namjoon visibly takes a deep breath and stills, eyes flying open, nostrils flared. “Pack.” He says around his fingers, sounding so beautifully wrecked, voice hoarse and raw.

They’re all just watching Namjoon fucking himself open, watching him moan and mewl knowing he’s being watched. The man breathing in heavily through his nose, “Alpha.”

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck .

Taehyung is the first to step close, moving tentatively as if he were approaching a wild animal. And he very well may be. The beta steps over and around the shards of glass, looking over at Yoongi, silently asking him to clean it up.

Later , he thinks.

Once Taehyung is within reaching distance, Namjoon tenses up, looking confused and wary. The latter watching Taehyung with large eyes.

“H- hey, hyung.” Taehyung starts off softly, “I’m just gonna take your temperature.” When he reaches his hand out, Namjoon’s eyes clear, looking like he’s back to his usual self, if a little mortified.

“D- don’t look at me.” His voice so small, he pulls his fingers out of his ass, “ Please .” He looks so scared and ashamed , Yoongi’s heart hurts.

Taehyung is immediate to calm him down, “Hyung, I’m just gonna check if you have a fever.” The younger only moving closer when Namjoon doesn’t tell him to stop. Even before he rests the back of his hand on the older’s forehead he can feel the heat radiating off of him, hotter than a wolf’s regular warmth. From this close Taehyung can see just how pretty his hyung’s flushed skin is, how his hyung breathes a sigh of relief the moment his skin touched his, can feel himself grow harder. He gives the taller a close-lipped smile when he catches him staring.

Taehyung stands and walks back to the small group by the door, he looks to be in deep thought, completely unfazed that he’s tenting his shorts. “I- I think he’s in heat.”

Nobody says anything, trying to understand what’s going on. “I think so too.” Yoongi says with a nod.

Seokjin shakes his head to clear his mind, “He’s a beta. He can’t have a heat.”

Taehyung hums, fluffing the hair on the back of his head, “He might be a beta, but...that- that’s definitely a heat.” They don’t argue any longer, everything making sense; the pretty flush on the ‘beta’, the blown pupils, the whimpers and whines he unconsciously makes when someone so much as looks at him, the absolute onslaught of arousal coming off in waves from the man.

“Jungkook, clean this mess up.” Yoongi waves at the shards of glass littering the floor, the younger alpha nodding curtly before leaving to retrieve everything he needs. He speaks to Seokjin in a hushed whisper, covering his mouth with a hand. “What do we do, hyung?”

Seokjin looks between Namjoon and Yoongi, trying to come up with something to say as the omega looks at them in mild alarm as he gathers the blanket to hide himself. “I don’t know. But I do know he has to cool down, he looks like he has fire underneath his skin.”

“I’ll run the bath.” Jimin disappears into the corridor, the sound of his socked feet echoing. Hoseok mumbling something about buying ice and disappearing soon after.

Seokjin moves toward the omega, tentative steps warning the other that he’ll be coming close. “Hey,” when Namjoon doesn't answer he follows up with, “How do you feel?”

Namjoon pauses, trying his best to articulate. “H- hot,” as if to prove his point, the omega presses the back of his hand against his own forehead.

“Is there anything you need?”

You. ” Namjoon says it immediately, as if he hadn’t realized he had, clamping a hand over his mouth, a whimper escaping his parted lips.

Everyone looks taken aback, even Jungkook who had just walked back in. Seokjin doesn’t say anything— doesn’t move, too caught up in his own head to placate the increasingly anxious heat-ridden omega.

“I- I’m sorry. I didn’t realize,” Namjoon scoots further back, figure cowering instinctively. “Please. Don’t hate me.” He says it so softly, tears welling up, sounding so scared that they could hate him—that it was possible for them to hate him. Seokjin snaps out of his daze, eyes softening.

“We could never hate you, Namjoon.” He reaches out slowly, giving enough time for the younger to say no. He doesn’t. Instead, he pushes his head into the palm of Seokjin’s hand, nosing at the thin skin of his wrist— just the slightest bit scenting him, a soft purr rumbling through his chest when the older thumbs at his cheeks. Seokjin feels good. Way too good to be petting his delirious friend.

He draws his hand back, jaw clenching when the omega whines at the loss of contact. He wants to indulge Namjoon, he really does, but he has to set things straight when he’s not so dazed. Just then, Jimin comes in announcing that the tub is filled with ice water and that it’s okay for Namjoon to jump right in.

The two betas ask Namjoon to scoot closer to the edge of the bed so they can help him up. The latter shaking his head, blanket pressed to his lower half to cover himself. “Clothes.” He murmurs, plain and simple.

Yoongi picks up the black boxers he saw lying next to the dresser, walks the short distance towards the bed and hands the article to Namjoon. He says nothing, afraid he’ll growl if he opens his mouth when he’s this close to the omega. The younger tentatively takes it from him, thanking him without meeting his eyes.

The omega stares at everyone as they stare intently back at him, he slowly gets on his knees, blanket still covering him. They look away, giving the omega some privacy. It takes a while, the constant rustling giving way to the younger’s struggle in making his body work the way he wants it to. When he grunts an exasperated ‘finally’, that’s when they look.

Not the best idea.

Well, okay, maybe it is the best idea, because Namjoon is still so hard, the tip of his cock peeking out from above his waistband, flushed a dark red and glistening at the slit with precum. He looks a bit further down, internally groaning when he sees Namjoon’s thighs covered in slick, drenching the back of his boxers. They all seem to be staring, Namjoon’s cheeks flushing darker as he tries not to squirm under all their heavy gazes.

Jimin and Taehyung, the two closest to Namjoon, elbow each other before taking an arm and draping it over their shoulders. When Namjoon steps onto the floor his legs give out from under him, a yelp echoing throughout the room. The two quickly hold him up, sitting him back down on the bed.

“I’ll carry him.” Jungkook offers, setting aside the plastic bag of broken glass.

He easily picks up the taller man, carrying him bridal style. Namjoon wraps his arms around the alpha’s neck, head resting on his shoulder, breathing in the younger’s smoky scent of iris wood and silver. Jungkook pointedly ignores the way Namjoon shivers when the tip of his fingers brush his nipple, ignores the hitch in his breath, ignores the slick that’s made its way down the omega’s thighs, coating his palm, ignores his leaking cock, and with most difficulty tries to ignore the unconscious whines that escape the older’s plush lips.

The short trip to the bathroom is all but torture for the young alpha. He grips Namjoon’s thighs that much harder and lets himself inhale the sinful scent of arousal, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, trying his damned hardest not to wrap the glorious thighs in his arms around his waist and pin him to the wall as he mouths along the omega’s neck.

“Stop.” Namjoon murmurs against his neck. Jungkook immediately stilling. “Stop thinking so hard. I can smell you….” He peers down at the older, seeing his eyes shut and jaw slack. “It’s not helping.” Namjoon croaks out. Jungkook swallows thickly, his right arm twitching with the effort of holding up a 70 kilo man, fingers brushing over his pert nipples. Namjoon mewls at the back of his throat, completely unabashed.

Oh no.

Fuck.

Jungkook walks faster, wanting to distance himself from the unmated omega as quickly as he can. He sits him down on the edge of the tub. “Hyung,” he whispers, “get in the water. You’ll feel better.” Namjoon’s face is angled up to his, eyes closed and brows knit together. He has his hands squished between his thighs, a slight pout playing on his lips. Jungkook just stares at his hyung, thinks he looks cute this way, soft and fluffy. He almost forgets why they’re in the bathroom in the first place.

Almost.

“Hyung,” Jungkook does not whine. It just sounds like it.

“I liked it better when you were holding me.” He sounds dazed, far off. “Your scent and warmth surrounded me.” Namjoon’s talking slower, slurred as if he were tipsy. “Made me feel like…” He slowly opens his eyes and stares up at Jungkook, holding his gaze. “I’m yours.” His eyes shut close again, lips parting as if asking for a kiss.

He takes in the omega’s form, his trapped hands, his labored breathing, his fluttering lashes, the flush across his cheeks and down his neck, his spit-slicked lips from when he ran his tongue over them. He looks downright sinful .

Jungkook feels his eyes weigh down heavy, his body loose and tingly. He takes hold of the older’s face, reveling in the way his breathing stutters, thumbing at the tops of his cheeks. His face is too warm, almost scalding. He angles his head down, lips just centimeters from his own.

He vaguely registers someone shouting his name, but Namjoon’s lips look so soft .

A strong hand jerks Jungkook away, Hoseok standing between the two, a warning making its way out of the other alpha’s lips. “Get out.” Jungkook’s still groggy, still half-lucid and so he growls low in his throat, unaware of what he’s doing. “Get out and clear your head.” Another pair of arms circle around his waist and gently tugs him out and into the living room.

Hoseok can hear hurried conversation, Yoongi talking some sense back into the youngest alpha.

“Hobi…” Hoseok turns to look at his best friend, heart hurting at the quiver of his lips. “It hurts .” He swiftly gets on his knees in front of Namjoon, stroking the side of his face. Omegas in heat suffer from emotional imbalance, fluctuating from feeling to feeling. He never wants to see Namjoon in pain, especially when he can’t do anything about it.

“I know, sweetie. Let’s get you in the water, hm?” Namjoon nods. Hoseok brings the younger’s legs in. He’s so close, the musk of Namjoon’s slick has him breathing ever so deeply, slowly. Namjoon hisses when his skin comes into contact with the frigid water, tears escaping from the corners of his eyes. “Is this okay? Better?”

Namjoon wraps his arms around himself, goosebumps raising on every surface of skin. “It doesn’t feel any better.” Before Hoseok can frantically think of new ways to help him, Namjoon speaks up, mouth lowered to blow bubbles into the water. “I’d much rather get off.”

Hoseok knows he wasn’t supposed to hear it, that doesn’t mean the remaining blood in his system doesn’t rush south. He forces himself to speak, doesn’t want to make things uncomfortable for the omega.

“Stay in the tub, your fever has to go down before we can talk.” The younger looks up at him, worry evident on his soft features. This is not the time to sound so rough, Namjoon can so easily take it the wrong way. He gives the other a bright smile, the one that relaxes people. “I’ll be back.”

 

~•~

 

Jimin feels more than sees Hoseok come in, the tension heavy in his expression. The older heaving a heavy sigh, he runs his hands down his face.

“I’ve only been in there for five minutes and i’m already so wound up.” Jimin glances subtly at the alpha’s crotch and true to his word he is wound up.

Jungkook speaks up from where he’s seated on the love chair. “Imagine what I had to go through! He was so soft, hyung.” Jimin sees the faint blush on the youngest's face.

He sighs in agreement. In all honesty, Jimin had always thought their leader was good-looking, having checked him out on more occasions than one. But the ‘hot’ he so easily associated with the beta-turned-omega is worlds apart from the gorgeous he is as an omega— pliant and eager. Jimin’s going to hell. And he’s not even sorry about it, not if it means he can have the older man under him.

“Should we call Mrs. Woo?” Jimin thinks back to Seokjin’s mother, an alpha doctor specializing in the treatment and surgery of omegas, the kind woman who always sends them containers of food just to make sure they were eating.

“Already on it.” Seokjin brings out his phone, tapping a few times before bringing it to his ear. Checking his nails before a smile makes its way onto his face. “Mom? ...i’m fine, don’t worry...do I need a reason to be calling you? What if i just wanted to say ‘hi’?” The fondness not lost in his voice.

He laughs at something his mother says, shaking his fringe from out of his eyes. “In all seriousness though, Mom, I did call for a reason. You see, uhm, well…” Jimin can hear his mother’s Spit it out, son all the way from where he’s standing. “We think Namjoon’s presenting...in heat.”

The whole room is quiet, even Taehyung, who was whispering in Hoseok’s ears, stopping to listen. Seokjin pulls his phone away from his ear, tapping what Jimin assumes to be the speaker button.

What? ” Through the phone’s speakers, Jimin can make out the urgency in  her voice. "Stats?

“Korean, Mom. Speak korean.” Seokjin mumbles.

What makes you think it’s not a half-heat?

Seokjin kicks at the carpet, hissing when his socked foot comes into contact with the leg of the coffee table. “Uh, because he’s never had a half-heat?”

Do you even know the difference?

“Dad told me about some stuf-”

Why did you think it would be a good idea to ask your Dad? I’m the doctor.

“Mom...sorry to break it to you twenty-five years into your marriage but your husband’s an omega.” At this point all they’re really doing is bicker, it’s so amusing to watch. Despite the tense atmosphere, they break out into smiles, Jimin even letting out a few giggles.

Oh. Right. Well, a half-heat generally doesn’t affect someone much, other than a slightly more forward sex-drive, nothing should really alarm you.

“I wouldn’t consult you if we weren’t ‘alarmed’...”

Shit.

“Shit, indeed.”

What do you wanna know?

“How do we help him?” There’s a hum from the other end of the line.

Usually, I’d recommend letting the heat pass, especially if he’s too delirious to even talk to, but that would only work if there were any suppressants taken beforehand…the first unexpected heat of an unexpected omega can only be three times as bad as a regular heat .”

Seokjin has an idea as to what his mother is implying but, “So…”

So, you’re gonna have to find him a partner, preferably, an alpha to break his fever...does he have a fever ?”

Everyone visibly swallows.

“Yeah.”

First heats determine how long his future heats will last, make sure to take note of it. Bring him to me when he’s better so I can issue meds .”

“One last question: If we do find him a partner, will he get pregnant?”

Just that question alone brings back the tension.

Don’t be stupid, Seokjin. You will find him a partner, I don’t care if it’s either one of you or all six, just know that if you don’t he’ll be in real bad shape. Also, it’s practically impossible for a male omega to breed naturally without a true mate, and even then it will take a few dozen tries.

I’m gonna hang up now, I’m at work. Goodluck. ” Mrs. Woo hangs up before Seokjin, or anyone for that matter, could say goodbye.

Yoongi looks at all of them, when no one says anything he sighs and gets up from his seat on the couch. Walking in the direction of the bathroom. Again, they trail after him.

Yoongi kneels by the tub, not wanting to wake the omega from his nap. But he has to. He gives Namjoon’s shoulder a soft shake, rubbing at his earlobe to help rouse him.

“Mhmmmm,” Namjoon mumbles incoherently, shifting in his place, causing the cold water to slosh around.

“Joon-ah. We need to talk.”

The younger opens his eyes, hand coming up to cover his yawn. “‘Bout what?” Even with his body submerged in near freezing water, Namjoon’s skin burns hot underneath his palm, voice still sounding very far-off.

“Your heat. Who you want to spend it with.” Yoongi grits out the last part, grip tightening where he’s holding onto the edge of the tub. Something possessive blooming in his gut when thinking about another alpha having his way with his Namjoon— his omega.

Namjoon mumbles something— a name.

“Speak up, Joon-ah,” Yoongi speaks more softly this time. “I can’t hear you.”

Namjoon leans his head near Yoongi’s hand, eyelids heavy. He opens his mouth to speak.

Yoongi wishes he hadn’t.

Jackson.”

Chapter Text

Jackson licks his way across Namjoon’s chest, stopping to roll his tongue over his left nipple causing Namjoon’s body to jerk at the wet heat.

“You’re so…” The older takes the nub between his teeth and lightly clamps down. “Sensitive.” His breath ghosting over the omega’s spit slicked nipple, drawing out a whimper from the latter. Namjoon bucks his hips up to rub onto Jackson’s thigh, his neglected cock drooling at the friction. He releases a moan, hands gripping the older’s biceps in a vice.

“Want more.” Namjoon manages to breathe out.

Jackson hums around his nipple, laving over it while his hand comes up to roll the other one between his forefingers, smiling against the younger’s skin when he shudders at the added stimulation.

“More? More what?” There’s a teasing lilt to his voice and Namjoon lets out a sob, wanting nothing more than to get off but the older won’t let him.

“Please. I need you,” Namjoon threads his hand into the other’s hair, drawing his face closer. "Alpha.”

The slight upturn of the older’s lips settles into a line, his jaw flexing as he clenches his teeth. Jackson’s eyelids dropping into a hooded gaze. Wordlessly, the alpha gets up on his haunches and bends Namjoon’s knees, pressing them to his chest.

“Keep them there.” Jackson says.

Namjoon does as he’s told and loops his arms under his knees, the burn of strain bringing tears to his eyes. Embarrassment flushing him down to his chest at the thought of how he must look exposed and dripping wet.

If the absolute hunger in Jackson’s eyes as he rakes them over Namjoon’s body is anything to go by, then Namjoon must be right.

“Ready?”

At the same time Namjoon nods, Jackson grips the base of his cock and slowly slides into the omega, his arms flexing from where he’s gripping the back of the latter’s thighs, groaning out a ‘fuck’ under his breath. Namjoon’s breath hitches, eyes rolling to the back of his head in pure ecstasy, his moan coming out stuttered and heavy.

“Fuck.” Jackson hisses, tapping at Namjoon’s hands to make him let go and replacing them with his own as he pushes his knees out and to the side. “I’m gonna move now, okay?”

Without waiting for a reply, Jackson draws his hips back, pulling out until only the tip of his cock is past the tight ring and pushes back in painstakingly slow. Namjoon whines high in his throat, uncaring of how desperate it sounds, the older looks at him from under his fringe and continues his teasing pace, pushing slowly until Namjoon pulls his face down towards his own and crashes their lips.

Jackson kisses him hard enough to bruise, moaning when Namjoon sucks on his tongue. He licks over the alpha’s bottom lip before taking it between his own and nipping at the flesh. Namjoon brings his lips to the shell of Jackson’s ear.

“Fuck me,” he breathes, voice rough and fucked out. “Hard.”

Jackson lets out a growl and unwraps Namjoon’s arms from his neck, pinning them with one hand in an ‘x’ above his head. He pulls back and slams into Namjoon, the force pushing him up the bed. Namjoon and Jackson’s combined moans overlapping with the slick sound of skin on skin.

“Fuck, your tight little hole is sucking me in.” Heat curls up in Namjoon’s belly as the other repeatedly pounds into him relentlessly, filthy words pushing him closer to orgasm.

“Gonna cum. Please please please. I want to cum.” Namjoon babbles, tongue lolling out of his mouth as Jackson abuses his hole, drool escaping past his lips. He moans and pleads Jackson to let him cum.

“Cum for me.”

The words push him over the edge, has him trembling and sobbing in pleasure, his thighs clamping hard around Jackson’s waist. Namjoon nearly screams the older’s name as he cums all over his stomach and chest.

He shifts and realizes he’s lying on his side, slick making him wince and groan. Oh god, he just had a wet dream over Jackson, how fucking embarrassing. His silent monologue interrupted by a hand that comes up to push back his hair, he opens his eyes and sees Jackson sitting on a chair next to his bed.

He startles, immediately backing up on the bed. Jackson shushes him, wringing out the washcloth in his hands and beckoning Namjoon over, wiping down his arms and legs. Huh. No wonder. Jackson’s scent is probably the reason why Namjoon had such a hormonal dream.

“Good morning, shit head.” There’s no real bite to his tone and Namjoon welcomes the insult. He looks around, it is so not morning. “Quite a dream you had there.” Jackson pointedly looks at Namjoon’s sticky underwear. And as if it weren’t enough, he flushes even more.

“What are you doing here?” He croaks, tongue curling around the ‘r’s. Namjoon looks around, no one else is in the room— apartment; he can’t smell nor hear his pack.

“That’s what I want to know?” The alpha raises his brow. He takes the glass of water offered to him. “You asked for me.”

He gulps down the water, stalling to remember what it is, exactly, he said. He wracks through his brain, a crease forming between his brows.

Something clicks.

“Shit.” Fuck. He remembers. “I asked for you.”

“Uh, that’s what I just said?” Confusion coloring the other’s voice.

No, Jacks. When they asked who I wanted to spend my heat with, I asked for you.”

“Huh,” Jackson briefly recalls the not-so-subtle hostility directed his way and everything made sense. “Do you, though?” He coughs, “Want me to help you with your heat?” speaking ever so quietly.

It’s not like they haven’t fooled around when they were younger, teenage curiosity getting the better of them, drunken hookups in Jackson’s room after a night out clubbing— It wouldn’t make things awkward if they decided to fuck sober. Namjoon ponders over it, like, really thinks about it. And it’s not like Jackson’s a bad alpha, he’s the farthest from it; he’d be so caring and so loving. Jackson would give him everything he wanted and needed.

Jackson should fit the bill. And yet, he knows that Jackson isn’t the one.

He knows just who he wants. Whether or not they’d agree, Namjoon would have to deal with later.

He looks at Jackson, hand coming up to pinch at his lower lip, “I asked for you because I needed to talk.”

“That’s never a good sign.”

Jacks.” He says in exasperation, “I’m being serious here.”

Jackson gives him a toothy smile, shaking his head. “I am too.”

“The point is, I wanted to talk about thi- this thing we have.”

The alpha’s smile drops but it isn’t tense. “What about it?”

“I- I think…” Namjoon sighs. He doesn’t want to do this. “I think we should stop.” Jackson doesn’t reply at first, busying himself with wiping Namjoon’s fingers. When he’s done, Namjoon retracts his hand and places it on the side of Jackson’s face, the older leaning into the touch.

Jackson wraps a hand around Namjoon’s wrist, gently pulling it away from his face and up to his lips. He makes sure Namjoon is looking back at him when he leaves a soft kiss there, feeling his pulse beat against his lips. “Okay,” he breathes, his eyes sad and pained.

Namjoon knows how Jackson feels about him. Hell, the alpha had asked him to join his pack, talking about how they’d be their own pack ever since they were kids. But back then, when Namjoon had run away and met Yoongi, when the older had helped him scrape by each day, when he found out he could find family outside of family; he found that he could never leave the other. Not when it was only the two of them. Not when he made a promise.

“I’m sorry.” The for not choosing you goes unsaid but the older knows— understands. They’ve always understood each other best.

“Don’t be,” Jackson holds Namjoon’s hand between his, playing with his long fingers. “I had a feeling.”

Namjoon’s grateful that he doesn’t have to say the words out loud; grateful that he doesn’t have to hurt his closest friend any more than he already has.

He doesn’t say it out loud but they both know it has to be Namjoon’s pack or no one at all.

“We can have one more night. I owe you that much, at least.” Namjoon owes him much more than that. He owes Jackson so much, he thinks he won’t ever be able to pay him back. And so, he settles for second best, wanting to press his gratitude onto the older’s skin as he loves him one last time.

“You don’t owe me anything,” Jackson says with a small smile. “If you don’t want to, then I don’t want it.” Jackson is sweet, has always been sweet, and it hurts Namjoon that he’s still being considerate of him when all he should be is mad.

He looks at the alpha— his first alpha, and feels his heart break a little more inside, resenting the fact that he couldn’t see in Jackson what he sees in his pack. Already, there’s disappointment stewing in his chest for having wasted Jackson’s love, love that he could have given to his own pack.

Namjoon pulls Jackson into a hug, nosing behind the alpha’s ear in a quiet apology. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you.” 

 

~•~

 

Jackson clicks the bathroom door shut. He helped prepare the omega’s ice bath where he gently lowered the other. He makes his way to the living room, plopping down onto the couch.

“You idiot.” He berates himself for thinking, even for a second, that it was him that Namjoon needed.

He remembers the day he finally found Namjoon after searching for months, only for the younger to say he’s found a pack of his own in a single person. A person whom he had known for all of seven months. He remembers feeling so hurt, thinking that Namjoon was going to be a part of his pack. He guesses that even back then Jackson knew, somewhere in his heart, that Namjoon wouldn’t choose him— would never choose him.

If Jackson had found him earlier, faster, then maybe...maybe they’d be each other’s. But it’s not about him, at least, not at the moment, he has to help Namjoon to the best of his abilities, because above all else, he’s his best friend.

He fishes his phone out from the pouch of his hoodie, unlocking it and pulling up his contacts list, staring at it unseeingly until the screen goes black. He unlocks it again and steels himself this time. Yoongi’s name staring mockingly at him, the phone rings once before a slightly more than irate ‘hello’ is spoken. He brings the phone to his ear.

“At least pretend to greet me like you aren’t a possessive little bitch.” The angry words falling from his mouth doesn’t even alarm him, he’s sad and pissed and he doesn’t need shit being thrown at him. The older alpha’s breathing comes faster, presumably in rage.

“What the fuck did you just call me?” Jackson should feel afraid, if only because he and Yoongi were actually on pretty good terms before this whole ordeal.

“I called you possessive...and a little bitch, but that’s not what I ringed you for,” Jackson pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to even out his breathing. “Come home.” There’s no reply, “All of you.” He hangs up without so much as a goodbye.

An hour passes with Jackson constantly adding ice to the tub, giving Namjoon sips of water in between, when the door beeps open and shuffling is heard.

He locks the bathroom door, hoping to get a few words into Namjoon before he leaves. The omega had woken up just minutes before, as if his instincts knew his pack would be coming.

He sits on the lid of the toilet, running his hand through Namjoon’s sweat drenched fringe, the latter relaxing into the touch. “I’m gonna leave. Try your best to tell them what it is you want.” Jackson doesn’t let jealousy lace his voice, he can’t do that to Namjoon, not when he knows how guilty the other feels, how sorry. “I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

Namjoon grasps at Jackson’s wrist when he stands from his seat, stopping him in his tracks. Jackson can smell the remorse off of the omega. He hates it. Jackson wriggles his hand back to clasp the other’s, hand cold from when it was submerged under the water. He says nothing, no need for words for Jackson to understand what he wants to say but can’t.

“It’s okay.” Every ounce of love, he pours into those two words. He looks at the love of his life one more time before he’s unlocking the door and walking right into a pack of wolves who quite possibly hate him at the moment. He clenches his jaw, not wanting to spew any more hurtful words.

Jackson goes straight to Yoongi, not close enough to start a fight but close enough for the older to feel his hackles rising. “If you hurt him, even just a little, I swear I’ll come and take him away from all of you,” venom snaking its way out of his mouth.

Yoongi looks at him, eyes dangerously sharp. He stays silent. Everyone else watching them closely, tense and waiting, ready to help the cobalt haired alpha if Jackson were to swing.

Please hurt him.” Jackson says, tone dripping in warning. “I dare you.”

When it seems like no one has anything to say, Jackson moves past the alpha and heads straight for the front door, putting on his shoes in silence as the pack all but glares at him. He shuts the door from behind him, heaving a tired sigh when he calls for the elevator.

He steps in, taking in the way his face looks in the reflection of the elevator doors. With the anger and jealousy gone, Jackson looks as brokenhearted as he feels. He won’t cry. Not in an elevator, at least.

He makes it to his apartment in a daze, paying the cabbie his due. His pack welcomes him, questioning looks of why he’s back so early does not go unnoticed. He doesn’t say anything, instead, he gives them a lopsided grin ‘cause it’s a ‘Jackson thing to do’, and tells them he’ll be in his room.

He crashes onto his bed and silently cries into the crook of his arm.

That evening, Jackson finally let go of his soulmate.