#svt dynamics

[renaiswriting]

Hello everyone! I had an idea: why don't you send me a song and a SVT member(s) and I write something based on the lyrics or mood of the song?

[junrenjun]

I can’t remember if I’ve already asked you this but Can you do an alpha Vernon x omega reader set when they’re at the hotel getting woken up for their trip to Italy with NaPD? And the reason seungkwan had to go into Vernon’s room first before the camera was because reader was in there and reader is either post/pre heat and nesting and Vernon is all protective.

Wake Up Call

alpha!vernon x omega!reader

warnings: a/b/o dynamics, mentions of sex/heats, reader gets called miss, mentions of pregnancy

“Nonie, ‘m warm” is all Vernon can hear from the way your head is buried in his chest. He runs his hands comfortingly up and down your back, brushing against the shirt he barely managed to put on you the night before.

“I know,” he mutters, pressing his lips into your forehead. It’s still a little warm, but your fever is definitely gone. “Your heat broke yesterday though, which means you only have a day of post-heat and then we’re done.” While helping his omega through heat in a foreign country in a hotel room wasn’t exactly on his bucket list, he figures he can check that one off now. 

You sigh contentedly into his chest. He shudders at the cool air against his bare skin. If he could wish for one thing, it would be to stay in this moment forever. Your soft breaths practically lull him back to sleep, but not before you move your head a bit, looking down at the nest beneath the both of you. 

Before Vernon can even say anything, you're pushing yourself away from his arms, sitting up straight with tears in your eyes. “The nest,” you mutter. “I need…I need…,” it comes out as a sob.

Vernon’s arms wrap around your waist pulling you back down, then cupping your cheeks to make you look him in the eyes. “Gotta tell me what’s wrong with your words, honey,” he tells you firmly. When you shake your head at him he sighs. “C’mon omega,” he whispers, wrist bumping along your still sensitive scent gland. 

You are nothing but a slave to your instincts, giving in almost immediately. “I need to fix the nest,” you sob. “We messed it up. I need to fix it.”

You’ve almost never been this upset over a nest after your heat has broken. It’s one thing to be weird about nesting during pre-heat, but during post-heat? Vernon is a little concerned. “Why do we need to fix it, omega?” he asks softly. “Your heat is over and we can make another when we get home.”

A pathetic whine leaves your throat. “For the pups, Vernon! You pupped me! My pups need a nest!”

Oh. Oh. Now Vernon is highly aware that you are both on forms of birth control. With him on suppressants and you on the pill, it’s highly unlikely that you are pregnant. He didn’t actually pup you. But with your muddled, post-heat brain, all you can think about is how your alpha bred you full. How your alpha knotted you, filled you with his pups. You don’t know any better. 

“Shhh,” he consoles you, wrapping his arms around your middle and pulling you close. “Okay honey, we’ll take of the nest okay? I need you to relax though. Can you do that for me?”

You nod in his arms as best as you can, the tears finally beginning to slow. He reaches up to wipe them away. “Let’s get started, yeah? What are we moving?” he says gently, gesturing to the clothing items scattered on the bed. 

He waits for you to respond but you simply manhandle him further into the bed. You place a hand on his chest with a motion that he assumes means “stay.”

Vernon watches as you fuss over the nest, tossing some of the dirtier clothes onto the ground while pushing the clean ones closer to him in the center. His shirt hangs loosely on your form, exposing your bare shoulder. A small smile crosses his face. He can’t wait to put a mating bite in your neck. 

His little bubble of peace is soon interrupted by a harsh knock at the door. In the moment, Vernon is angry. Both the boys and the staff were well aware of the situation he was in and were under strict instruction to not intrude unless there was an absolute emergency. He doesn’t even realize that he’s letting out a low growl until you gasp, “Vernon!”

The interruption has clearly knocked you out of your post-heat headspace, your eyes looking a bit more lucid than they had before. He glances at you, before turning his head to where Seungkwan enters the room. There’s a grimace on his face and he’s trying his best to not open the door any further than it needs to be for him to get through. 

Within seconds, Vernon is protectively throwing himself in front of you. Which is funny considering Seungkwan himself is an omega. Still, the alpha instincts outweigh his normal train of thought, and he slightly bares his teeth at the boy.

Immediately, Seungkwan has his hands thrown up in surrender. “Sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t want to come in it’s just…,” he says while looking hesitantly at the door. His voice drops into a whisper. “Na PD is here to take us to Italy. He’s been filming everyone as they wake up and he’s about to come in here.” 

“What?” both you and Vernon say at the same time, though your boyfriend’s tone is a bit harsher. 

There's a racket from outside and Seungkwan tries to speak again, but is quickly interrupted by the door swinging open. You push yourself even further behind Vernon, who now has an arm resting protectively on your leg. Your eyes peek out just slightly from behind his shoulder. Within seconds, there’s a camera pointed at both of you, Na PD himself right next to it. “Vernon-ah! Wake up!” the man shouts excitedly. 

Vernon doesn’t know quite when he started growling. All he knows is that his chest is rumbling loudly and his teeth are bared once again. Seungkwan cowers in the corner a bit. Na PD and his crew have looks of extreme surprise on their faces. They all scrunch their noses at the potent scent of heat sex that fills the room. Vernon’s hand squeezes even tighter around your leg. 

“Vernon! Quit that!” you exclaim in response to his outburst, slapping him on the shoulder. The growling quickly stops and he releases the hold he has on your leg. 

The camera is quickly pointed toward the ground and eventually turned off. Vernon relaxes a tiny bit once it’s done. Na PD is quick to apologize. “I’m so sorry, Vernon! We’ll delete the footage, I promise! We didn’t know anyone else was in here.”

Vernon is too agitated to care that much about the apology. There are multiple strangers standing within a few feet of his omega’s nest uninvited. His alpha is not pleased to say the least. “Don’t apologize to me,” he spits out harshly. “Apologize to my mate.”

With those words, you pop out a little bit more from behind him, reaching to pinch his ear. “Yah!” you exclaim, “don’t call me that until your mark is on my neck!”

He grimaces at the pain. Once your hand pulls away, he’s quick to reach up and rub at his ear, hoping to soothe it. “Ow! What the fuck, baby?” 

Na PD’s expression softens a little bit at your banter. “I’m sorry miss. We didn’t mean to walk in on you.”

Vernon feels you straighten up a bit, breath tickling against his neck. “It’s okay,” you say softly. “But um, you are intruding on my nest during my cycle, so could you just…” He turns his head slightly to see you point toward the door shyly.

Everyone must get the message loud and clear, because they begin to exit quickly. Seungkwan is the last out, and he throws Vernon an apologetic expression before slamming the door closed. 

You both let out a sigh of relief. Vernon takes a second to compose himself, before turning and tackling you down onto the bed. God, he wants his scent all over you right this second. He quickly buries his face into your neck, rubbing his cheeks against your gland harshly. You whine, the area still pulsing and sensitive from your heat. “Mine. My omega,” he whispers into your skin.

“Yeah,” you whisper back, fingertips running up and down his spine. “All yours.” His alpha roars in delight.

[whoreforwonwoo]

OK but let's imagine Minghao doing this

You cry out as the paddle hit your hands. It stang and hurt too much. You sniffle and cry as tears stream down rapidly. But he doesn't care. "Give me your hands." He says in a cold and deep voice. You cry and hug your hands to your chest. He raises a brow at that and says. "It was an order. Now gimme." A paddle in his one hand and the other one rested on his knee as he sat on the bed and you knelt on the floor infront of him. You stay still. Crying and begging. "Pls sir....I-I...cant...". He sighs frustratedly and reaches out a hand. "Give. Me. Right. Now". Your body leaned back a little. Not wanting him to continue the assault on your hands. "Now!!" His tone meant authority and no more place for argument and refusal. You cry and your body trembles. You didn't mean to hit him. It just happened. You were angry and your hand just swung to his chest. You never meant to hit him. But it had already happened. And now you had to face the consequences. His patience reaches its peak and he grabs both of your wrists and pulls them towards him. You cry and sob. "I gave you the choice. You didn't do it so I had to be forceful." You cry loudly and your hands tremble when he strikes a hard blow. "No more shaking. I swear to god-" he glares down at you. You bite your lip and close your eyes. Tears still stream down your face as the assault continued. Even with your eyes closed you feel his eyes glaring at you. You cried but did not dare to tremble. After what felt like ages. The assault finally stops and you hear the paddle being dropped to the floor. "Open your eyes," a rather soft voice says, and you feel his hands under your chin as he softly caresses your cheeks. Your tears stream down rapidly. "Shhh...it's ok. I've got ya. " he slowly pulls you up in the bed and onto his lap. He hugs you tightly and says. "Next time...will my baby think before hitting her master??..." in the sweetest and gentlest voice ever.

[zb1bies]

Jun: How long has it been since either of you slept?

Wonwoo, staring at his gaming console intensely: Three or four.

Hoshi: Three or four what?

Woozi, nodding while not taking his eyes off his computer: Three or four.

[suddalgi]

You grew up waiting for the day that you can honor your household in service to the patron of your valley, a mysterious faceless mountain god. The day of the ceremony, you find yourself in the clutches of a being that both terrifies and intrigues you. ➶genre: fantasy au (mythology retelling), slow burn, power dynamic, soft dom! dk, arranged marriage vibes, 18+!➶ w.c: 3k ➶ chapter warnings: none

➶-͙˚ ༘✫ ➶-͙˚ ༘✫ ➶-͙˚ ༘✫ ➶-͙˚ ༘✫ ➶-͙˚ ༘✫ ➶-͙˚ ༘✫

chapter one

---

            “The fire burns hot under the feet of the lamb! The mountain god is pleased! Let her be honorable and worthy of his jealousy!”

            You had barely stepped to the altar when the flames in front of you leapt high enough to scorch the ceiling, the sudden heat stealing the air from your lungs. The light was everywhere, the noise and burning and smell of incense closing around you like a trap.

Cheers. Deafening, suffocating.

            They were elated. Wails of relief and joy and worship mixing with the shouts as the glow of the sun was swallowed in darkness. Turning to flee, the last thing you saw was the face of your father. In the frenzied crowd, his face was a wall of stone, betraying nothing as your vision was stolen from you.

            This summer had been so warm, but now you were cold and alone. Even the shouts and the burning of incense in your nose faded away as His presence wrapped around you, as tenderly as a mother cradling a child, and then the crowd was gone.

Even the ceremony felt like a distant memory now. Another life. A fading dream, beautiful until the moment that you wake up.

            If you woke up, it was long ago. The cold of the courtyard has begun seeping through your skin, sinking claws into your bones. The grass underneath you is wet with dew, each brush of mountain wind across your face filling your nose with the smell of frigid water and long untouched forest.

            You’re alone here. Whatever had brought you was gone, you had made sure of it. The perimeter of your prison was beautiful, but damningly simple. Four walls of high, white stone, the intricate and moss-filled carvings almost antagonizing in their stunning beauty. If it weren’t so dark, you would study the mosaics that lined the walls and probably recognize the stories they told. The same ones you had grown up hearing. They had lost their luster now.

            The courtyard itself was expansive, winding paths shaded by ferns and bent, drooping branches, filled with flowers you could hardly even name. The air was perfumed with them, rich and decadent, lulling your senses with a warm the bloomed through your every limb. Birds sang high above your head, and their songs were soulful and haunting, like weeping.

            You sat underneath them now, with little else to do but wait. The humiliation and fear that roiled in your chest earlier that day had settled to a resigned, agonizing glowering like dying coals. You couldn’t even believe you had been so excited for the rites before. You still wore your ceremonial hanbok, though your adornments and heavy jewels now lay unwanted next to you in the grass. Pointless excess, in a garden with nothing but indulgent abundance.

            You looked at your fine gold jewelry where it lay under the moonlight, watching with contempt as the glimmer of its surface stared back at you. Maybe it was the finery that brought you here. Maybe your dress had allured him, an exception from your usual simple robes you wore to pray at the temple. If it was your beauty that caused him to choose you, you would curse your reflection a thousand times if it meant you would be rid of it.

Who was it, the shadow that had brought you here? Would you be scattered in pieces across the valley of your village by some horrible beast? Even the priestesses barely understood him—it was a sin to even look upon him, a greedy and prideful act that the god of the mountain punished by death. He could be a monster, unknowable in terror, rending mens’ minds apart with only his face.

Surely a god like that would not seek something as trivial as companionship from someone as simple as you.

            No. The truth was even more damning than that, a weight that pressed into your chest like a closing fist. There were plenty of girls in your village with prettier faces, soft features, fuller forms, nicer dresses. You were not special. And soon, he would know it too. And then you would die here.

            The sobering realization was colder than the night air, sinking deeper past your bones and into your mind as you laid back into the grass, letting it embrace your shivering body. Did all the girls that he took end up this way? How long did they sit in his garden, before he grew tired of them?

            In your mind, you can feel the dying sputtering flame of exhilaration at the idea. Since birth, you had known it was an honor to be chosen by the mountain god. The price of your life would pay for thousands more, sparing them from poor rain and pestilence and blighted fields. Winning the favor of the Mountain was more sacred work than any priestess’ sacrifice in the village temple. In a way, it made you a saint.

            You didn’t feel like a saint. The excitement inside your stomach felt perverted, wrong, like a death sentence. Do those little white doves feel blessed, under the shaman’s knife? Do they hope that their family will live, by their blood?

            Even doves are not that foolish.

            It had occurred to you to cry, but perhaps the cold had found its way to your heart. You could feel nothing, not even the sting of the dew against your skin. Waiting to die felt simpler.

            Above your head, the birds stopped singing.

            You sat up, the finality of the sudden silence roaring in your ears as you looked around the garden. A moment after, the caress of the breeze against your face grew still, as if the garden was holding its breath. The silence began to fill with the pounding of your heart.

            The delicate gown and mantle over your shoulders suddenly felt as thin as paper, and you wrapped your arms tight around yourself as you searched the still courtyard. There was no fire or light anywhere, only a few low candles like orange eyes that watched you from their distant wall sconces.

            There has to be a reason for this, you told herself resolutely, trying to focus your thoughts. A reason he accepted me. I can talk to him, I can reason with him about all of it.

            The dull boom of heavy doors opening somewhere in the temple brought your nerves back to alert, and you leapt to your feet. The sound faded back to quiet, and you strained to hear any footsteps, voices, anything—there was nothing, except the chill around you that seemed to deepen with every passing moment.

            You took a deep breath to steady your nerves, and your breath came before your face in a soft plume of smoke. Your heart dropped to your stomach at all once.

            Don’t be a coward, you told herself firmly. This is shameful behavior, you’re the woman of your house.

            Your fists balled at your sides as you looked around the garden, to the wide doors on the far wall where they had come. Attempting some kind of escape felt foolish—you barely understood the garden, much less the path you had taken to get here. He had swept you up, covering your eyes the entire way, leaving only your ears to guide you. If you had any scrap of memory of the way here, panic had erased it from your mind.

            After a few more moments of long silence, you dared to creep to one of the tall arching pillars in the walls that opened up to the blue-black sky, pressing your palms on the icy stone. The world outside was so close, but so unattainable. Your stomach twisted into a knot as you swallowed hard. The idea was too sickening to even consider; that you were really meant to stay here, that the sky you could see now was all you would see until—

            Every muscle turned to stone as a warm breath, as close as your own, cut through the strange arcane chill in the air as it brushed cross your neck.

            All thought abandoned you in that moment as you stared at the marble wall in front of you, just as a shadow shifted silently behind you in the flickering candlelight. The shape of it was as ordinary as a man’s, but the presence behind you felt impossibly large. It seemed to fill the entire room, fill your mind, crawl under your skin and tear your soul apart.

            Before you could collect herself you found you were turning toward the light, a protest already on the tip of your tongue—a plea, maybe, desperate enough to shame your family’s name forever.

            “Stay as you are,” came a voice, whether in the garden or in your mind you could not say. It was slow, warm and smooth like a river in the summer, every word wrapping soft, caressing fingers around your mind. “Facing the wall.”

            Anything you were going to say was swallowed up in terror, and you complied. Staring at the shapes of the marble, you tried to measure your shallow breaths. Don’t look at his face, you fool, you were screaming at herself.

“God of the mountain—” you started. Your voice sounded pathetic even to your own ears. Is this really how a saint should behave?

No. Not a saint. A dove.

            “I have a name.”

            The soft voice trickled over your every thought like rain, and tears pricked your eyes.

            “I… forgive me, but I don’t understand.”

            You spoke before you even realized that you were—maybe it was desperation that tore the words from your lips, an attempt at diplomacy, a negotiation, something. Even more haunting than the one standing behind you was the looming promise of eternity. Finality, here among these flowers and high marble walls.

            A moment of stillness. Even the shadow on the wall in front of you barely moved, a shape you couldn’t decipher even if you tried. All you could make out was a sort of veil over a tall, lithe frame—the candlelight that came through the strange material refracted as he shifted slightly.

            “Did the temples not teach your children of me?” he asked.

            You tried to swallow, but your mouth was as dry as paper.

“You don’t want me.” There was no controlling the tremor in your voice. ��During the sacrament, there were girls there who had spent their whole lives waiting to be chosen by you.”

A shift from behind you, finally something to hear in the silence—the rustle of soft, sheer clothes. The breath came again, closer this time, and there was a hum of what could’ve been curiosity. The voice reminded you of music, like the songs the farmers in their fields would sing when the weather was fair.

“I did not want them.”

“They can serve you far better than I could.” You pressed. It was all you could do to keep your eyes on the wall, to not turn and shake him by the shoulders and beg him to let you go. “I’m no one. I’m not a queen, or a priestess of any kind--”

“You are not at any of your palaces, or your temples.”

“You don’t want me,” you continued, like a child, and each word fell more trembling than the last as you dared to turn her head just an inch. You could see the dark shape of feet just a step or two behind you. “I’m a diplomat’s daughter, I know nothing else I can only speak well, s-somewhat well…”

“Did you think you would sway me with well-spoken words?”

            The question was not antagonizing. It held an air of almost innocent curiosity, heart-wrenchingly human as the voice grew closer to your ear. You could hear his breaths now—even they seemed to carry a music to them, light and warm as sunlight but quiet and heavy as smoldering fire. You could almost believe a man, nothing more, was standing behind you.

            “I don’t know what you want,” you finally whispered. “I don’t know how to please you.”

            You will die here, came the thought again, ringing truer and truer as the silence persisted over both of you. It almost felt like he was picking apart your words like one would poke at a sickly, stray cat, curious but wholly omniscient, with all the power of an executioner.

            “I am not so unlike your men,” he told her. “Many of your desires are also mine.”

            “I want… I want to go home.”

            Immediately you clamped your teeth shut, a surge of panic igniting every nerve. Every thought was a chaotic, useless mess of static, and somehow the impertinent remark had slipped past your lips. Stupid, stupid. No wonder the gods had ill favor with you.

            “You will live in the mountain,” he said.

            “I don’t know how to serve the gods,” you insisted. Gods, you couldn’t stop talking, you were going to die before the night was over.

            “I will teach you.” A pause, contemplative and quizzical. The voice drew even closer, until the warmth of his presence was tangible against your bare skin. You felt so small underneath him, so inconsequential and irrelevant.

            Your eyes pricked as a lump rose in your throat. The warmth of him was as familiar as early summer, stone roads baked in the afternoon, golden wheat fields and the tang of pomegranates on your tongue.

            The fear inside your stomach twisted, burrowing lower into your stomach and turning to something you didn’t recognize at all. Every incoherent thought screamed in unison, a prey animal’s dying breath—don’t trust the sunlight, hide in the shadows.

            And another voice, as close as your own breath. It made your hair raise. Turn around.

            “Close your eyes,” he finally said.

            Your eyelids fluttered closed without a second though, conceding to the ringing command of his gentle, river-water voice.

            “Turn to me,” he continued. “So I may look at you.”

You could hear a gentle lisp in his voice, such a human flaw in something so unknowable. It did nothing to alleviate the compounding dread squeezing against your lungs as you turned in place, each step causing your heart to roar louder in your ears.

            When you knew you were facing him, you stopped with your eyes screwed shut. Even against everything you knew, your mind wondered what would await you if you opened your eyes—if the death would be slow, or beautiful, or something completely unfathomable.

            Your knees buckled under your weight, and it was only then that you realized you were shaking. Every muscle betrayed you, numb to any attempt at movement. Your breaths were heavy, trembling and ragged through your nose as you waited in the darkness behind your eyelids. Curiosity turned to fear, and then horror as your imagination overcame you.

            “Do not cry,” he murmured, and you felt the warm caress of breath across your face.

            You clenched your jaw tight, but the tears came all the same. You could feel moisture hot on your cheeks as you closed your fists tight at your sides around the thin fabric of your hanbok. If you stood any longer, you were sure your legs would give out—

            You barely felt the stone path collide with your knees as you fell onto them, reaching out with your palms to steady yourself. All at once, the world that had grown so small around you was spinning. Any breath you tried to take was stolen from you, but above every other thought was the desperation determination not to cry. Even as hot tears slid down your cheeks, you bit back every whimper with dutiful silence, your eyes opening to nothing but mossy stone underneath you.

            “Forgive me,” you whispered, the only words you dared to utter through the lump in your throat. Past your blurring vision, you could see the silken hem of his hanbok against the tile, shifting and glowing like water under the moonlight.

            He only stood there. If your apology was heard, he did not acknowledge it. Maybe he wanted you to grovel at his feet. Somehow you did not think that would please him at all.

            “You are afraid,” he said. “I’ve taken you to my home, safe in the walls of my garden, and you fear my wrath.”

            “N-No!” you blurted, your hands reaching across the tiles as if they will steady your spinning vision. “No, I—I am grateful for your kindness! Forgive me, I… I know nothing, I do not even know your name.”

            “Have your shamans ever wondered enough to ask?”

            If there was a right answer, you did not know it. More tears dripped hot down to your chin. “I-I am not a shamans, god of the mountain. I am just, just a girl…”

            When he spoke, there was a softness to his voice that sounded almost like sadness. Gentleness, but immovably final in its fragility. It tore at your heart despite the fear that was ravaging every thought, another apology already on your lips. He turned away.

            “Cry if you must,” he said. “Until your tears are spent. You will have no use for them here any longer.”

            A sob choked you, but it did not spill over. Foolishly, you raised your head, as if to call after him, beg him to erase this day and return you back home, something.

            The words died in your throat, though you wondered if you could speak them at all—when your eyes opened, the garden was empty again. The crush of elegance and immortalized beauty around you was the only thing that remained. It taunted you with its silence, and for a long while you simply stayed there on the ground and cried.

            You were a dove, your wings clipped and your lovely white feathers drawing closer and closer to the consuming altar fire. And you knew whatever this terrible creature of a god wanted for you, it would be a long time before you burned.

[yyawnjun]

oh<3

[indifferentinfatuation]

gose 2020 ep 6

gose 2020 ep 46

gose ep 48

[seonghwasblr]

SVT coming to Europe for the first time ever in 9 years (not counting Gastonbury, cause that was sold out a year before they were announced, so carats didn't get a chance to go) and it's not even going to be ot13 should be a crime.. AND IT'S BECAUSE OF A SCHEDULE?!

[akaikali]

Okay this is SO random but I feel like I love WonHan's dynamic because it actually kind of reminds me of WangXian. Does anyone else see it???

[wonwoonlight]

😭😭😭

[renaiswriting]

A while ago, I posted about a dynamic, but I never really got to do it (for personal reasons), so why don't we do it again?

Send me a song and a SVT member for me to write something! 

I still have some from the last time, but don't be shy! I will attempt to write tonight.

[junrenjun]

Dissonance

svt ot13 x beta!reader (omega!woozi focus)

genre: angst

wc: 2.5k

warnings: fem reader, woozi does not like reader lol, arguments, jealousy, a/b/o dynamics, swearing

summary: jihoon doesn't want y/n in the pack.

a/n: i am back in the writing groove with (finally) another understand update :)

Jihoon doesn’t understand why everyone likes you so much. To him, you’re just some random beta girl he doesn’t really know. Why Seungcheol and Wonwoo even thought it was a good idea to potentially make you part of the pack is beyond his brain’s comprehension. 

The omega can’t fathom what it would be like to have you integrated into the pack. The thought of your scent mingling into the rest of the house makes his nose itch. The thought of you being in the pack nest makes him restless. And the thought of you being anywhere near him in heat, his most vulnerable and emotional times, makes him so nauseous he might throw up right this second.

He just doesn’t understand how you would even fit in. The pack has been established for so long you would be missing so many pieces. You missed the years that it took them to finally get settled into the routine they have today. Now you’re going to be thrown into the equation and it just messes everything up. He knows that if he doesn’t agree with letting you in, the pack won’t do it. But, it has been long enough that attachments are starting to grow.

That’s why whenever someone brings you to the den, he shuts himself into their little home studio. And he doesn’t leave until your scent fades or Jeonghan asks him to come out for “proof of life.” Even if he doesn’t have any work to do, your voice is enough motivation to slam the door shut and shove his headphones on. Stupid fucking beta. 

One day, after ensuring it had been at least 15 minutes since you had left for the night, Jihoon finally ventured out into the main room. As usual, a good portion of the pack was there. Still chatty about whatever show they had been watching when you were here, he ignored them and steered himself to the kitchen. 

The room didn’t offer any reprieve though, because Mingyu was standing there peeling an orange and raising a brow at the omega’s entrance. “You could make it less obvious that you don’t like her, you know?”

Jihoon whipped his head toward the alpha at the sudden attack. “I never said I didn’t like her.”

Mingyu scoffed at him. “Yeah because you totally don’t hide in your studio every time she comes over. She thinks you hate her. Maybe at least try to have a conversation with her?”

The omega pretended like he was mulling over the thought. He really wasn’t, but it seemed to appease the alpha. “I’ll think about it Gyu.”

Mingyu scoffed again. “Think about it? You’re going to think about talking to someone who’s here multiple times a week? You can’t hide from her forever Ji.”

Jihoon went to defend himself, but the alpha cut him off. “If she truly makes you that uncomfortable, then we’ll let her go. But I don’t want to do that if this is just you being too stubborn to try. She doesn’t deserve to be treated like this. She really does want to get to know you.”

He tries to ignore the pit in his stomach that Mingyu’s words cause. Instead of responding, he chooses to grab a protein bar and turn back to head to his room. His guilty conscience gets the better of him though, because he pauses for a beat in the doorway and calls out to the alpha, “I’ll sit with you guys at movie night next week.” He misses the smile that crosses Mingyu’s face. 

When he enters his bedroom, Minghao eyes him, but doesn’t say anything. At least he has the ability to keep to himself about this issue. Maybe because Minghao himself was nervous about Y/N’s integration into the pack too. Maybe it’s just because he knows how to pick and choose his battles. Whatever it is, Jihoon is grateful for the silence. 

Once they settle into bed for the night though, Jihoon tosses and turns restlessly. You and the upcoming movie night are fresh in his mind. He shouldn’t have given in to Mingyu. Now he has to face you in front of the rest of the pack. The thoughts continue to keep him up, so he turns toward his roommate’s bed. “Minghao,” he whispers.

A small hum comes from the omega’s mouth, but he doesn’t open his eyes. Jihoon takes this as a cue to continue. “I agreed to sit with y/n and the rest of you guys at movie night next week.”

Now he really has Minghao’s attention. His eyes pop open and a questioning eyebrow shoots up. “Are you sure you want to? No one forced you right?”

Jihoon is appreciative of the omega putting his packmate’s feelings first. “No, no one forced me. But I’m scared. She’s basically a stranger.”

Minghao hums in response, closing his eyes tiredly. “Only a stranger to you, Ji. The rest of us know her now.” And with that, his roommate turns around his bed, a signal that the conversation is over and he should go to sleep.

Sleep doesn’t come to him that night, nor the rest of the following week.

When Jihoon walks into the living room the next Friday, you’re tucked against Wonwoo’s side, chatting happily with Soonyoung, who sits at your feet. There is an apparent lack of scent emanating from you, evident that you’re wearing blockers. Two sticky patches on your neck peek out from under your sweater. 

Half of the pack has already gathered in the room, filling up most of the seating. He’s grateful for Jeonghan, who pulls Seungkwan into his lap, clearing up an empty space at the end of the couch furthest from you. He doesn’t hesitate to sit down.

Jeonghan leans over to whisper in his ear. “Thanks for coming tonight. She’s excited you wanted to join us for once.” Jihoon responds with a dismissive wave of his hand. The older omega frowns, but leaves him alone. 

Jun has taken control of the remote, scrolling through Netflix in search of something to watch. When he hovers over a movie to watch the preview, Minghao says something to him in Chinese and the two begin bickering. Chan is scrolling through his phone, legs tossed up over Mingyu’s lap, who runs his hand absentmindedly over the bare skin. Joshua and Seungcheol finally enter the room, a large bowl of popcorn in the alpha’s hands. It feels so normal, so domestic, that Jihoon can almost forget your presence. 

Almost. Your conversation with Soonyoung has been interrupted, the alpha having gotten up to join Joshua where he sits. Seungcheol takes his place at your feet. Seconds later, the pack alpha’s eyes are on him and yours follow suit not longer after. “Ah, hello Jihoon-ssi,” you call out softly. 

You don’t use honorifics with anyone else in the pack, so hearing the title attached to the end of his name makes his heart ache. He’s not quite sure why though. “Hello Y/N-ssi,” he says back, tensely. 

That’s all the conversation really amounts to. You send him a hint of a smile, before turning back to the man in front of you. He fixes his gaze back on the TV, hoping to once again forget you are there. Jun and Minghao seemed to have finally settled on a movie, the opening credits of some random rom-com rolling across the screen. 

Jihoon allows himself to get absorbed into the movie, tuning out the whispering of those that have yet to start watching. The movie is honestly pretty bad, but he’ll do anything to ignore the way you play with Seungcheol’s hair while Wonwoo’s arm is thrown over your shoulders. 

Maybe 15 minutes in, he can hear the whispering pick up again, but he elects to pretend it’s not happening. He’s caught off guard seconds later when your scent starts seeping into the room slowly. His head whips around and he catches Seungcheol carefully peeling off your blocker patches. 

Jihoon’s not sure what about this image has him reacting the way it does. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re still a stranger to him. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re being somewhat intimate with his pack alpha. Maybe it’s the fact that the action means Seungcheol is seeking out your scent, instead of someone from his pack. Maybe it’s all of them combined, he’s not sure. 

Before he knows it, he’s standing up from his position on the couch and growling. It’s nothing close to an alpha’s growl. But it’s also not a normal, half-hearted, omega growl. It’s loud, it’s high-pitched, and it screams possessiveness. And it’s directed right towards you. 

You’re staring at him like a deer in headlights. Honestly, the rest of the pack is too. No one, himself included, was expecting that. 

“Jihoon!” Jeonghan scolds from next to him, reaching out to grab his hand. He yanks his arm out of the older omega’s grip before he can be pulled back down onto the couch. Wonwoo moves his body a little bit protectively in front of you and asks if you are alright. Jihoon bares his teeth at the thought.

You glance over to him once before responding. “Maybe I should head out,” you whisper. “I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.” 

The pack responds in an uproar. Jihoon doesn’t care to listen to their protests. All he can hear is the ringing in his ears. “Leave,” he says, “you’re just a useless beta anyways.” He can vaguely hear the pack’s shouts and Seungcheol’s warning growl, but they’re angrily pushed to the back of his mind. 

It’s like the insult doesn’t even register in your brain. No tears cloud your eyes. Your lip doesn’t jut out. Your scent doesn’t even sour. You take a breath. “That’s fresh coming from someone who wishes he were one.”

It stings. He hates that you barely know him and yet you read him like a book. Uncovered his wounds from the deepest places in his mind just to throw them out on the table for everyone else to see. He hates you for it. 

Another growl leaves his mouth and before he knows it, he’s throwing himself at you. It’s to no avail though, because Wonwoo is shoving his body between you two and someone is tugging him away by the waist. He gives another growl at whoever decided to put their hands on him.

The sound is cut short when the hands move and one proceeds to wrap around the back of his neck. He’s being…scruffed? He glimpses out of the corner of his eye and spots his pack alpha. Seungcheol is scruffing him. He’s livid. Pissed even. But his stupid, cursed omega body goes limp at the touch. Fucking instincts. 

Seungcheol turns the omega’s body towards him and spits out, “You’ve done enough here. Go.” His body is shoved toward the hallway. The pack alpha doesn’t have to tell him twice. He turns promptly on his heel and stomps off to the studio.

His footsteps aren’t loud enough to drown everything out though, because he can hear Soonyoung faintly say, “hyung don’t you think that was a bit much?” He can also hear the sound of the front door closing, signaling that you had finally left the den. He doesn’t know why his heart aches at the thought. 

It’s at least an hour before anyone interrupts his little pity party in the studio. Surprisingly, it’s Jun who finally enters. He sets down a plate of dinner on the desk wordlessly, before dropping down onto the couch on the opposite wall. Jihoon spins in his chair to face him. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

Jun sits there, picking at the rice on his own plate. “Not unless you want me to,” he says without looking up. 

Jihoon pushes his food around for a little bit in silence, before finally opting to eat. If he didn’t eat now, Jun would probably tell Jeonghan, who would force him to eat later. Anyways, he didn’t realize how hungry he truly was. The plate is clean within a few minutes.

He sets the plate down on his desk, and when he turns back around, Jun is offering the remnants of his own meal. It’s mainly white rice, unsurprisingly. When Jihoon starts eating again, Jun finally speaks. “Didn’t know you could growl like that.”

He chokes on his rice a little. He clears his throat and mumbles, “I didn’t either.”

The man across from him hums. “I was scared at first too, Ji,” he says, eyes softening. “It’s okay to feel what you are feeling.”

Jihoon is…confused. “I thought you liked her too hyung,” he asks curiously. 

“I do,” Jun responds, a faraway look in his eyes. “That doesn’t mean I wasn’t terrified at the prospect of bringing someone new in. All we have known romantically, intimately, physically for the past few years is each other. The thought of getting to know another person like that is scary. We aren’t mad at you for feeling normal feelings. That wouldn’t be fair.” 

There’s a pause as he lets Jihoon take in his words, before continuing. “What isn’t fair though, is you taking it out on her. It’s scary for her too. We only have to get acquainted with one new person. She’s learning about all thirteen of us. That’s overwhelming.” 

Another pause. Longer, like he’s debating what to say. “I’m not asking you to love her. But I am asking you to give her a chance, because the Jihoon I know wouldn’t call someone useless after exchanging three words with them.” 

Jihoon is silent. Jun takes his lack of response as his cue to leave. He collects their empty plates wordlessly and heads toward the door. But before he can turn the handle, Jihoon stops him. “She’s right.” 

Jun whips his head around. “What?”

“She’s right,” he repeats. “About me wishing I was a beta. I think I’m…I…I don’t know,” he says, burying his face in his hands. “I think I’m jealous of her,” he finally says.

The alpha stares back at him with wide eyes. “Oh,” he says, tentatively. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I…” Jihoon starts, raising his head from his palms. “I think I’m jealous of the way she gets to interact with us without having these weird instincts. She doesn’t have to worry about us seeing her in her most vulnerable, helpless state, because she doesn’t go through heats or ruts. She doesn’t have to worry about keeping her pheromones at bay when your body all of a sudden decides it’s horny or it’s angry or it’s stressed. She doesn’t have to worry about the innate desire to submit or to dominate. All that stupid biology stuff that shouldn’t even matter anymore. She doesn’t have to deal with that because she’s a beta and I wish I could be like that.”

Jun simply raises an eyebrow at him. “I think your idea of a beta is a little off from what she actually experiences, Ji. She feels all that stuff too, it’s just a little different…maybe not as intense. You would know if you would actually hear her out,” his words are firm, but his tone is soft. 

Jihoon looks down at the floor. “Yeah. Yeah you’re right.”

“Alright,” the alpha finally says after a beat. “You’re going to give her a chance then?”

“Yeah. I’ll give her a chance.”

[floralovebot]

oh.. maybe i should do kpop specialist au posting...

[zb1bies]

Dino: You're really campaigning for Asshole of The Year, aren't you.

Seungkwan: As defending champion, are you nervous?

[vrmxlho]

need more kpop friends on here: follow me if you stan le sserafim, aespa, svt, txt, enhypen + others who i am forgetting rn

[ikjun]

please write your novels about seventeens friendship!I love their friendship and I could talk about it forever

there is just something so profound about 13 different people, unlikely to all get along on any given day at the same time, to forge a bond together that is so genuine and strong that it makes me all warm and fussy inside. i think the fact that they never hid that they fought sometimes, that they sometimes spent days and weeks and months fighting or arguing in the early days, is the reason they work so well together even beyond the individual clusters of closer friends in the group. they actively cultivate and adjust and forge their friendship to remain and prevail, are unafraid for it to change or shift, and that makes it even possible for them to be in a group together. when dk was asked what’s the reason for their continued work is and he said “it’s love, of course” that is precisely what it looks like. this is what it’s like to work with people who love and wilfully love the work you do with your friends / band-members / second family atp.