#the continental bts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hollyhomburg · 1 month ago

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Prey Animals (2)

— Pairing: Yoongi x Jin, Yoongi x reader, Bts x reader

— Genre: Omegaverse, Mafia au, Polyamory au, Found family, Suspense, Eventual Smut, Enemies to friends to lovers, Angst with a happy ending, Hurt and Comfort,

— Summary: In a world where Beta's are rare, valuable, and often have more than one pack; Beta Min Yoongi does everything he can to keep his mafia heritage a secret from his primary pack. Little does he know he's not the only one who's living a double life.

— Words: 8.6k

— Warnings: funerals, referenced violence, threats of violence, organized crime, manipulation, angst, hurt/comfort,

— Check in at the end for my notes on this chapter! —

(Last Chapter)

While Betas are valued for their level heads, they are also valued primarily as secret keepers.

Yoongi is probably the best secret keeper in the whole state, maybe the whole country even. Yoongi keeps his family’s secret so well that he doesn’t even let himself think it most days.

It only bothers him when he remembers. Yoongi does not like remembering where he came from, he does not like remembering his blood family. Not his found family, not the pack. I get that it’s confusing, but ‘blood family’ couldn’t be more accurate when it comes to talking about the people that Yoongi is genetically related too.

They’re the ones that painted Yoongi’s hands with blood when he was barely old enough to drive a car, who taught him how to kill and get away with it. But getting away with murder is child’s play to the largest organized crime family in the continental united states.

Alphas, Betas and Omegas. In the family- everyone has their place. Everyone has their spot in the hierarchy. As a beta, Yoongi won’t be expected to pop out heirs like an omega- or cultivate the family business like an alpha. He won’t be expected to mate because betas don’t mate the same way that alphas and omega’s do.

Beta mating bites are too strong- people say. They make you go crazy, it’s not worth the risk. People have died from them.

There’s only one person that Yoongi would ever want to give his mating bit too anyway and he’d never risk it. Not when Namjoon is right there- ready and wailing to carry Seokjin’s soul the day they met. They’ll wait a few years for propriety’s sake. But Yoongi has always known that he’d never know what it feels like to be mated to someone else.

Never.

Being a beta born into a mafia family is both a blessing and a curse. On one hand- Yoongi is `-expected to have little to no involvement in most of the violence. Tradition orders that the betas shouldn’t sully their hands with blood, drugs, and gunpowder.

Their job is much much more important than that.

~-~

(6 years later, 120 days before, Yoongi)

Like with most good tragedies, this story starts with a death and a secret. I’ll leave it up to you to decide which is which.

For Yoongi, coming back to the family feels like walking into a nightmare.

Despite his derision and hate for where he came from, Yoongi’s always been able to wear the mask. He finds himself putting it on to a snug fit the day of the funeral. He got into the hotel late last night and the tiredness weighs on him as does the unanswered text messages from his pack. The tiredness drags him down down down, past his grief and past his hopes for a future that involves any sort of permanent happiness as he stares out the window of the car, spotted with dark beads of rain.

His phone dings.

Jinnie (12:34): Hey! Could you let me know that you got in safe? Joonie’s going a little crazy lol.

He can still smell Jin faintly on him from their last hug at the train station only 18 hours ago. All he has to do is close his eyes to feel like he’s standing right next to him. The memory is both painful and sweet. Yoongi doesn’t have the heart to wash away the pack’s scents quiet yet.

He doesn’t know the next time he’ll have Jin’s scent on him. He should savor it while he can.

Yoongi knows better than to hope that this will be just a brief diversion. He can’t lie to Jin or tell him the truth, so he opts to say nothing instead. To leave the texts un-answered, read receipts off. Maybe he’ll answer tonight- when he’s gauged the situation and how risky it might be.

Yoongi already misses the pack, feels their absence from his side like a physical wound. He doesn’t know how other beta’s do it; every time he turns, he expects to see one of them. Body already screaming in a touch starved language of humming skin and aching muscles. Had it been just yesterday morning that he’d woken up in Tae’s arms with Jungkook nuzzling into the small of his back? Is he only 24 hours removed from it? Why does it already feel a lifetime away?

Yoongi can’t believe that it’s over, can’t respond to the text, can’t resist making any message sound like goodbye. Can’t accept that for all intents and purposes, they’ve already said goodbye.

There’s a very good chance that none of them, Jin nor Namjoon or any of the 4 other members of his pack will ever see him again.

For what it’s worth, Yoongi didn’t want to go.

He’d paused at a hotel to drop his bags off this morning, but the lady at the front already knew him by name and had a reservation ready for him before he’d spoken two sentences for her. The calling card on the bed paired with an Armani suit had let Yoongi know that one house was already hoping to earn his favor.

His Korean is rusty- but not rusty enough that he can’t read the neat lettering.

The Choi family cordially invites you to dine with them next Saturday. Please take this gift as a gesture of our good will and enduring friendship.

He’d tossed the card back onto the bed and sighed. They couldn’t have waited one day before trying to court him?

The suit is stuffy, but it compliments his mask well enough to be necessary as he makes his way up the steps of the cathedral. He can walk like one of them and talk like one of them and can wear their consumes. But it will never fit right. The sneer on his face or the emptiness in his eyes is just an act. The guards at the front do not stop and ask him who he is. Anyone who’s anyone knows Yoongi’s face.

Arguably- he’s the most important alive person alive at the funeral.

He’s given a wide birth. Those who know who he is hide their whispers and shock behind velvet gloved hands and the curl of their teeth.

The closer he gets the more he feels his persona drape over him like a shroud. He knows how his eyes look when he tilts his face downwards and lifts his lip in a soundless snarl. He knows how to look like a threat and act like they expect. Yoongi is a god among men, Yoongi will offer them no salvation or chance at hope. Just like with God; if they want something from him, they’ll have to earn it through devotion.

And even then, he might not give in.

He lets his angry scent roll off of him in waves- a warning before he wades through the sea of people. A hundred or maybe two all in black. His scent is Oceanic and briny, the sea of people part around him giving him a wide berth. Yoongi has always smelled like sea salt when angry. The sweet chocolate of his scent going bitter and yucky. They expect it from him. Betas have more important things to do than attend funerals, more important things to grieve than family members. Betas belong to no one and everyone.

Not all of the hatred or derision is faked. Yoongi does not like these people.

He hasn’t thrown up because of a dead body in years, but the matching caskets almost do it to him. Their cold faces, the sallow almost grey black tint to their skin. Powdered and dotted with morticians puddy to turn their cheeks less hollow. The makeup powdery but very opaque. They turn his stomach as he pays his respects. No one bothers to approach him until he’s stopped kneeling. He lingers, unwilling to surrender himself up to the dogs quiet yet.

The Don of the family and his beta are smaller in death. His salt and pepper hair falls flat, his dark suit baggy. The beta’s long grey hair is braided over her shoulder the same way she wore it when she was living. They are two sides of the same coin. The leading and legal bodies of the family, now resting peacefully.

There is no one kneeling besides Yoongi to pay his respects. Not yet.

They wait for only a heartbeat before they descend.

He gets more than a few tearful hugs and reunions. Yoongi loses track of how many people drag him in for a hug or kiss his forehead, bending low to rub their noses against his knuckles as is tradition. Some of them look vaguely familiar, some of them look vaguely like him, round faces and small lips, hawklike eyes that glimmer with more familiarity and less fear. The aunties and the omega’s have their faces covered in dark veils. Red lipstick hidden behind gauzy silk.

“Cousin!” Someone calls above the others. Yoongi turns slow like it’s barely worth his effort to greet this person and yet he finds himself smiling when he sees who it is. The mask cracking.

Jongho is less chubby than the last time that Yoongi saw him. Less of a little kid with the habit of following the older cousins around and more of a young man. A young alpha judging from the strong woodsy scent that clings to him. During their teenage years, he’d made a habit of trailing after Yoongi like a little duckling because Yoongi was the only one who didn’t tell him to get lost (or worse).

At least before he’d been sent away. It’s good to see him, to see a kind smile on his face, the warmth and curiosity in his brown eyes- lighter than the usual deep brown of the family.

“Your hair is so long!” is the first thing he says, but after some coughing behind him, and the appearance of his father, a stout well-groomed man with eyes that can never quite hold their viciousness, Jongho falls into a deep bow.

“The Choi family hopes that you’ve enjoyed your gifts, Beta-sshi.” Yoongi sets a hand on his shoulder, drawing him up. Jongho seems to remember himself, looking away, failing to meet Yoongi’s eyes.

“Don’t you want to see how well your gift fits?” It’s too hard for Yoongi to resist indulging his young cousin. He reminds him so terribly of Jungkook. At the prodding Jongho prattles on, hands skimming up and down the sleeves and appreciating the fine silk of Yoongi’s suit. Going on about FIT and how he’s been promised a semester or two there, after things have calmed down.

After things have been decided.

Yoongi isn’t surprised that these tid bits are met with a glower from Choi senior. A constant shadow to their conversation. Fashion isn’t a major becoming of any would be leader- better business or international relations. Choi seniors glare is so disapproving that Yoongi almost want to snap at him.

Let the pup have his fun.

Yoongi likes him- but just like with all his family members Yoongi cannot trust Jongho on principle. But it’s hard not to want to know him. This cousin who was once a chubby haired youth is now a strong alpha, teenaged, barely 20. Yoongi congratulates him on presenting as an alpha (as is expected, condolences would have been offered if he presented as an omega. Yoongi hates it.)

Eyeing him up and down, Yoongi admits that they might have been rivals in another life. They’re close enough in age, but Jongho still wears the bright eyes of a child eager to please.

Jongho is not the eldest alpha in his family, but he is one of several elder siblings and cousins in the Choi family (the moniker he greeted Yoongi by was just that- a name to call him. They’re not related by any blood that Yoongi is aware of). Yoongi’s not surprised that Choi senior seems to have selected him to meet Yoongi first. He’s the Choi families obvious choice for Don. He’s by far the most measured of his siblings, the most controlled and the most intelligent.

Last time Yoongi saw the eldest Choi son, Geumjae was trying to rip his throat out. Yoongi has no idea if he’s still alive.

It’s clear Choi senior hasn’t forgotten this show of impropriety. Clapping Yoongi on the back so hard his knees start to buckle. “He’s scored in the upper percentile for college entrance exams, and he has excellent extra-carriculars. He did student government and student counsel at his private school and-” Yoongi cringes, but nods along. He can’t expect every family not to treat this funeral like a job interview even if it is a little grating.

And Yoongi is the first to admit that leading the family is a job that requires more than brute force.

Yoongi passes along his thanks and holds out his arms for them to see the fit. “My mother picked out the color, she-” his eyes flicker up to Yoongi’s face, and Yoongi sees a bit of hesitancy there.

Jongho’s father claps him on the back again and derails the conversation, “He’s a good alpha, always knows when to listen to his elders.” Yoongi resists the temptation to roll his eyes at the obvious ass kissing.

The Choi’s let him go but not before getting an official acceptance of the dinner invitation extended to him. Yoongi wades through the crowd, searching aimlessly. There are hundreds if not thousands of people packed tight to pay their respects. Reporters and camera’s too- because not all of the families’ businesses are illegitimate.

All members of the family have pinned roses to their lapels as a sign of respect so it’s easy to pick them out of the crowd. White for the omegas and red for the alphas. The omega youth who hands them out at the front desk eyes Yoongi upset, unsure which to give him, hand shaking as he flutters between white and red.

“It’s fine really- I’ll just take a white one-”

“I’ve got you.”

A woman steps up to him from the crowd gathered, the only one brave enough to disturb his peace. Yoongi isn’t immediately able to place her Family name or her face. She plucks a red lily from a nearby bouquet and tucks it into his breast pocket. Smoothing out the fabric after she’s done. Fussing with it. The delicate flower drops rusty red pollen onto Yoongi’s suitcoat.

Alphas don’t fuss, but she is one- judging by her scent and the red rose pinned to her own suitcoat. Female alphas don’t always dress like men, but this one does. Her tapered slacks, charcoal suitcoat, and dark blouse ripple like water when she moves. She smiles up at him delicately. Her smile is well trained and gives nothing away. It is neither genuine nor fake. “We didn’t think you’d be coming until later.”

“Neither did I.” Yoongi admits carefully. But why should he hide it. He doesn’t want to be here, and they all know it.

There is nothing in her eyes- nothing at all that tells Yoongi what kind of mask she might be wearing. She’s got long hair, silver, dyed from the roots that poke out from the perfect middle part. it doesn’t take Yoongi any time to place her scent- it’s so strong.

Peppermint- it almost has a numbing effect on his nostrils. An artificial edge that cuts the sweetness and makes it more alpha. It takes him second of searching her face before he recognizes the tuck of her chin.

“Moon Byulyi.”

She smiles tensely, dropping into Korean out of formality. “It’s been a while Beta-sshi.”

Moonbyul is someone he remembers well. From a shared childhood spent running around in too tight tiny stuffy suit jackets at formal occasions like easter and Christmas. Playing underneath tables for hide and seek and tag. Moonbyul was one of the few pups that was brave enough to talk to him. That wasn’t cautioned against being his friend or overly encouraged to gain his favor by the power-hungry parents. Yoongi would never have called them friends back then- because you aren’t friends with people outside of your house- not without it being risky. But a certain kind of knowing respect hovers on the edge of her smile.

Even as a pup, he’d been infamous. In the cathedral, people whisper, pointing him out in the crowd to their companions. Red lips hidden behind velvet gloved hands. He’s allowed to cause a commotion- there is no one left to tell them off for their blatant disrespect of the dead. No one left to remind them of tradition.

Yoongi lets them stare.

Just like with Jongho, Moonbyul was sent away before presentation. Many families choose to send their children away from the mafia life after elementary school. Before their scents start to lean either sweet or musky. Before anything starts to hint at if they’ll be an alpha or omega.

Those formative years can be a little bit dicey, with everyone’s scent and hormones changing every few days. New instincts provoking fights and spats with anyone who comes too close. Presentation provides Improper and dangerous volatility in a family like theirs. It’s better to whisk the next generation away for a private and more dedicated education.

Alphas are taught to fight and kill and bleed; omega’s are taught to simper and preen and scheme. They’re educated just like the rest of the population, sure, but the family requires a more thorough sort of learning.

Yoongi hardly remembers when his older left. He only remembers when Geumjae had come back smelling like smoke and fire and rage.

Scents are as individual as a fingerprint. Omega’s and Alpha’s don’t get theirs until they go into their first heat or rut but Beta’s scents present immediately upon birth. The other sub genders smell uniform in a soft milky pup scent. A smell ingrained into people’s brains and instincts that nudges the impulse protect and provide and nourish.

Yoongi had started to smell like chocolate on the third day after he was born.

There are boarding schools and private little compounds that the family keeps where unpresented pups can have a more dedicated education away from the prying eyes. Yoongi hasn’t seen Moonbyul since just after she turned 13.an early age for presentation by any standard. Although the year’s stretch between them she’s still the same. The mischievous lilt to her words is subdued here. She looks more serious; she looks as tired and as anxious as they all feel.

That much he can tell is not faked.

She should be more careful to hide her emotions. She’s a head of house after all.

They are no longer children chasing after brightly colored eggs and wishing for sweets. To show any weakness is dangerous for her and her pack. One of them hovers on the edge of her elbow, smaller and shorter but no less bright eyed than Moonbyul herself. She’s an omega from her garb, her dress is long, flowy, and black. Her hair is cut to her chin, atypical for an omega. She knows better than to speak here. Moonbyul stands almost infront of her, tall, nearly posturing.

She doesn’t need to bother, there is only one person in this room that Yoongi’s even a little bit afraid of.

“Have you seen my brother?” She makes a noise, glancing behind him.

Yoongi tries to turn before Geumjae can get too close, but he’s too late.

There are crow’s feet beginning to pull at the corners of his eyes. That’s the first thing that Yoongi notices, and the fact that he’s armed despite given the clear orders not to be. The lines of his harness visible just under his well-tailored suit. He registers only that before the broad-shouldered man pulls him in and Yoongi’s nostrils fill to the brim with the scent of burning things. Not the smell of cooking or firewood- but the smell that buildings get when they burn, acrid and metallic.

Geumjae must be nearly 33 now, but the stressors and finer points of ageing seem to have spared him for now as he pulls back and gives Yoongi a beaming smile, bright eyes calculating. Aware that the rest of the family is casting glances at the two of them many more times than is socially acceptable.

His brother looks exactly like he did the last time Yoongi saw him, taller than Yoongi and meatier. Wide shoulders and a tapered waist that says alpha. But their faces could be identical if it wasn’t for the scar crossing his eye and his mouth perpetually twisted into something like a snarl. They look similar enough that they’ve been mistaken for twins before.

He pulls Yoongi close with a hard hand at his neck digging into his scent gland and Yoongi resists the urge to flinch. Geumjae forces them to embrace, the picture of brotherly affection and comfort as he presses Yoongi’s face into his shoulder. Mouth pressed to ear hidden in Yoongi’s hairline so that no one can hear what he has to say or read his lips.

There are no hello’s, no farce, just straight to business. The lily remains between them- crushed by the sudden hug. All beauty here is short lived.

“I hope you’re not planning to change anything Yoonie.” Geumjae says the childish nickname with a sickly-sweet lilt to it. “It’s been so long since we’ve all seen you that you’re practically an outsider. There’s a lot you don’t understand. You should let your older brother teach you how things work again.”

Yoongi can’t pull away or else risk making a scene. No matter how much his burning scent is sticking in his nose and making him want to gag. Geumjae’s expensive suit reeks of rich cologne, at odds with his scent. Geumjae smells and acts like wildfires and burning houses; destructive and unpredictable.

Geumjae knows of Yoongi’s only weak spot.

His arms around Yoongi’s body remain ridged and vicelike, hand threading through the back of his hair in a clutch that is much more intimate than is necessary. Geumjae has always been stronger than Yoongi- has always been the alpha. Yoongi pushes against his chest, but Geumjae holds firm.

“All this talk has me thinking- if you died, I guess we’d have to invite your little pack, right? The pictures I’ve seen of them look so delicate and unprepared. Your pack omega seems like the type I’d love to sink my teeth into.”

Yoongi’s blood goes cold, and he starts to push- visibly at Geumjae’s chest. Recoiling from his touch and from what he insinuates. He doesn’t stop there

“I wonder why you didn’t bring them. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were afraid of us getting our hands on them.” He pulls back, smiling. It’s not friendly- more of a bearing of teeth. Geumjae must have had implants put in because his canines seem sharper than should be normal.

“But luckily, I know we’ll never have to find out.”

These threats are not hollow. Yoongi knows better. Yoongi does his best to school his face into a somber frown. Nodding like Geumjae has just said some words of wisdom. He’s not really agreeing- all of this, every inch between their bodies and the lack thereof- is done for the presentation of it all.

His choice is the furthest thing from his mind. Every moment all he can feel is wrong wrong wrong. Wrong to be here- wrong to be away from the pack- has Jungkook had a seizure yet? Is Jin worrying after his unanswered text? What song is Hoseok listening to over the radio? How did Namjoon’s surgery go- the one that he was worried about and felt underprepared for. What about Tae and his book? How did it end. How how how? How can he keep his brother away from them?

The phone in his pocket burns. And he knows the texts from the pack will go unanswered. Yoongi will be too afraid to reply.

Yoongi casts a look at the ceiling. The rosette windows in the vaulted ceiling shine in all their colors, but they offer no word of God.

(Yoongi knows better. God only listens when you speak through sin.)

~-~

(5 Years ago, Yoongi and Seokjin)

The thing about working with someone is that you spend a lot of time together. It’s kind of hard not to grow attached, kind of hard not to be friends.

Over the next three weeks before his birthday, Seokjin spends a total of 126 hours with Min Yoongi. He comes to learn that he likes the cinnamon coffee cake over the plain ones, that he likes vanilla latte’s over matcha- that he thinks it tastes like dirt.

They become friends quicker than Jin expected, quicker than he necessarily wants- seeing as Jin’s kind of shit at keeping them- and hasn’t made a single friend in the last 3 years that he hasn’t lost. What’s the point of picking up something only to lose it later?

Seokjin doesn’t want to be Yoongi’s friend, but it happens that way anyways.

Seokjin resists the urge to watch Yoongi, waiting for him to take a sip of coffee (black, americano- but with a secret spoonful of matcha, the color of it disguised by the extra dark roast) Seokjin waits, watching his prank play out in his peripheral vision. Tensing every time Yoongi gets even a little close to where it’s cooling. Yes, almost, there-

“Uhm? Excuse me?”

Seokjin almost flinches at the customer, tapping his hands on the countertop impatiently- but not impatiently enough. A businessman, alpha, pale gray suit baggy at the waits. A faint blush on his cheeks. “What can I get for you?”

“Your number would be good to start,”

“Uhm” Seokjin barely resists the urge to cringe and hide behind his notepad. He’s not on the market- but he’s not off it either. Seokjin does not respond, just waits until the uncomfortable silence festers long enough, for the alpha to just reply to his order.

Seokjin is very very picky. Picker than he should be maybe- as an omega of his standing.

Yoongi notices, bypassing His (sabotaged) coffee, polishing the chrome of one of the espresso machines glassy. He waits until the alpha is gone, the door to the coffee shop tinkling closed before he asks.

Yoongi is always doing that. Waiting until they’re alone to speak. Seokjin wonders if it’s a habit or a beta trait.

“What’s with you today? Usually, you’d have a line or something.”

Seokjin’s mouth quirks beyond his control. “What was it that I said last week?”

“Treating omegas that way you do won’t make your father love you?”

“Your knot is not big enough to act like that.”

They double over into laughter, and the skim of Yoongi’s hand up his back as he passes behind to put in another tray of muffins (mass market, made from mixing oil and water into bags of grey brown mix) in the oven is so tender, so thought out that Seokjin almost melts.

“You should put more chocolate in them” he says, and Yoongi pauses, hums thoughtfully and reaches past him to get the chocolate chips, adding another quarter cup to the batter. Yoongi is always making the chocolate muffins- mostly because Seokjin is always eating them.

The café is full of the smell of melting chocolate, and it’s not just from the muffins. But from Yoongi too. Yoongi’s scent is so pleasant, Seokjin catches himself raising his nose to catch it on the air when the other isn’t looking.

“But seriously. You always have a reply, what’s up?” Yoongi doesn’t look at him when he says it, instead directing his attention to mixing in the chocolate chips into the batter. He’s not very good at it, gets a bit of glossy brown on the countertop. Seokjin doesn’t have it in himself to complain. Seokjin knows he’s trying to make Seokjin feel more comfortable, more open by not looking at him.

Any other person doing that would make Seokjin feel manipulated or backed into a corner. But it’s different with Yoongi.

The two of them linger there, looking out the wide windows. The rain that falls that casts the streetlights all drippy. The cloudy sky up above offers no shooting stars or wishes, not even the moon put there like a single burning wick of a candle. Nothing in the sky, no burning, no joy, only wet.

“Today’s my birthday.” Seokjin finally admits, voice soft and quiet. It won’t be his birthday for much longer, the clock already reads 11:32. They’ve got less than a half hour left. And Seokjin did not cry today- his only goal. Not presents or blowing out candles and love. None of it.

He’s tried of crying. Tired of being alone too.

“Fuck” Yoongi stops stirring the metal bowl, setting it down softly before he leans against the counter. “Why didn’t you tell me, would have gotten you something or some shit-”

Seokjin hums, stirring his coffee hard, turning the wooden rod through the crust of extra sugar at the bottom. Seokjin always likes things extra sweet and extra warm; he wonders how long it will take Yoongi to realize there’s a reason for that. That he’s trying to fill a family sized hole in himself that the wind whistles through. Like a ripped sail on a ship.

When Seokjin looks over Yoongi looks if not genuinely upset then a little devastated. It shocks Seokjin enough that he stands up a little straighter, color to his cheeks that has nothing to do with the stoplight outside as it goes from yellow to red.

The muffins ding, and they’re ready, piping hot, the chocolate all melty at the top like Seokjin likes. “Hang on I know they’ve got- here.”

Yoongi leans over, he’s got a lighter, and Seokjin isn’t sure what for. It’s white, has initials on it. There is a crappy pink birthday candle sticking out of the muffin. It’s too early to take the muffins out of the tray and it’s melting onto the countertop. But when Yoongi says, “Make a wish,” Seokjin closes his eyes and blows.

He’s not really sure what he wishes for, but when he opens his eyes, Yoongi is smiling.

They share half of it each, and Seokjin feels so warm he has to take off his sweater. Yoongi licks the chocolate from his fingers. Seokjin watches and looks away. Nervous.

They play Seokjin’s favorite music while they mop the floors, and Yoongi does his best impression of that one alpha rapper than everyone likes.

“You like seriously like music, right?” Seokjin says, sitting on the countertop and swinging his feet because there’s no one here and it’s almost 2 am. They pretty regularly only have one or two customers that come in mid-week. Why their boss insists on keeping the shop open and two of them there at this hour- Seokjin has no idea.

“Yeah, I’ve got like, 6,000 songs on my phone.” Seokjin scoffs, endeared. Yoongi is exactly the kind of person to brag about something like that. Seokjin’s feet hit swish back and forth.

“You better not have given iTunes all that money.”

Yoongi grins, tipping an imaginary hat. “Nah- it’s a pirates life for me.” Yoongi continues to sweep at the floor while Seokjin watches. “You’re like, really bossy for an omega. Thought they were all supposed to be like, docile?” Yoongi moves onto mopping the entry way and Seokjin switches to the booth seat so that they don’t have to shout to keep talking.

Seokjin snorts. Instead of parrying Yoongi’s words, Seokjin settles into the booth, pulling his knees to his chest until he can feel the pleather through the hole in his shoe. “You go to school for it? The music?”

“No, I ugh-” Seokjin watches Yoongi brace himself for disappointment or judgment. “I didn’t go to college.”

Seokjin’s fingers stop their drumming. “Good, it’s a waste of time.” Betas don’t really need to go to college to be successful, the same way that alpha’s don’t need to dress or preen or maintain themselves to gain respect. Seokjin skirts by, doing the bare minimum for an omega. It would be different if he were female. If his reproductive organs had presented him as anything other than male at birth. Men are alphas until proven otherwise and women are omegas until they decide different. It’s only his rotten luck that his presentation came with a heat and not a rut.

“What you’d go for then?” Yoongi asks, shifting uneasily from foot to foot.

“Psychology.”

“Why don’t you do that then?”

Seokjin shrugs, “can’t get a job that pays more than this without my masters, can’t pay for my master’s without this job but-” It’s Seokjin’s turn to brace himself. “It’s so so expensive, and my student loans are already a lot-”

“Nah I get it; your family wouldn’t like help you or something? You seem like a good kid; do they know that?”

“I am older than you.” Seokjin scoffs, reminding him. “And besides, what family?”

They haven’t gotten to the dead parent’s thing yet, but they will one day. Yoongi looks up and stops his mopping. The water drips onto the dirty linoleum. Instead of contesting with Yoongi’s bereft look Seokjin replies quick. It’s still his birthday for another 10 or so minutes. And he’d rather not talk about his parents.

“Did your family like not approve of you doing music or did they want you to be a doctor or something?”

Beta’s usually become doctors, or CEO’s or managers or anything. Seokjin can already tell that their boss likes Yoongi more than him. There’s a sour lilt to his voice, a pout there. Seokjin bets Yoongi gets paid more than him.

That’s okay, Seokjin’s instincts tell him. He needs it to eat more- his legs are so skinny.

But instead of saying what Seokjin expects, Yoongi just looks back at him, his dark eyes mirroring his misery. He scoffs parroting Seokjin’s words back to him.

“What family?”

Seokjin is a lone omega, a dangerous thing to be in the city these days- or at least that’s what the news has him and everyone else believing. Enough omega’s go missing that it makes the news. Picked up off of street corners or otherwise, they just vanish. The only thing that keeps Seokjin from being one of them is luck and the fact that he’s taller than most omega’s and broad enough to pass for a scrawny alpha.

Yoongi turns away from their mutual grief, stilling when he see’s what’s outside.

“It’s snowing.”

It’s early for November but neither of them says it, they move, abandoning their posts for a second to go out and watch the gentle flakes flickering down.

“First snow!” Seokjin says, and Yoongi grins. The snow is brief, melts the second it hits the concrete. But it’s a good thing, because it means that neither Seokjin nor Yoongi has to walk home in the rain.

When they return inside, Yoongi takes a sip of his coffee and makes a face. Seokjin laughs so hard that he has to clutch at his stomach.

It’s an even better birthday when they have to depart for their respective apartments for the day and Yoongi hands over his flannel and says that he won’t take no for an answer. At least he’s wearing a long sleeve unlike Seokjin. It settles Seokjin’s instincts so well that he sways. His fingers quickly making sweater paws on account of how long the sleeves are.

“Like this one a lot, whenever you wear it.” Yoongi’s hands linger on the flannel. Seokjin’s wrist. He does up the button. Seokjin lets him.

“You can keep it, as a birthday present.”

Seokjin huffs, shakes his head, “I said I like it when you wear it, giving it away defeats the purpose.”

Yoongi’s hands go tight in the fabric and then relax, and his voice takes on a husky quality. Breath billowing out in the cold. They’re standing close enough that all Seokjin can smell is chocolate.

“Then you can bring it back to me when you get tired of it.”

The first night shift ends and the second begins, Seokjin and Yoongi go their separate ways. Seokjin walks past the same alpha’s from the night before that and the night before that. And like usual Seokjin tenses, readying himself to be catcalled. His fingers tangling in the arms of Yoongi’s sweatshirt as he braces himself for it.

But it doesn’t come, it’s like the alphas take one whiff of Yoongi’s scent on the air and their eyes slide over Seokjin as he scurries past.

Seokjin pauses at the end of the block, at the edge where streetlight becomes shadow, and looks back.

~-~

It doesn’t take long for the two of them to put two and two together (no- not like that, although that takes predictably less time too).

The alphas Seokjin passes on his way home from the coffee shop never bother him as much when he’s wearing something of Yoongi’s. The beta’s scent clings to his clothing like an invisible shield- keeping Seokjin from harm. Seokjin mentions it offhand once and from then on Yoongi makes sure he’s got something, his gloves, his hat, his jacket, everything. Just so that Seokjin gets home safe.

It doesn’t mean anything at first, that Seokjin is under Yoongi’s protection- but after a few weeks that starts to mean a whole lot more.

Seokjin has never believed that betas are particularly special. He attributes most of societies reverence to just foolish mythos and childlike mystery. But even he has to admit that It’s almost spooky the way that the alpha’s unwanted attraction and attention slides over him like he’s slippery, like he’s a mirage, a specter- but only if he’s wearing Yoongi’s scent.

Seokjin always draws attention- for the way his shoulders swivel and the pretty omegan curve to his hips and face. He's pretty, he's always been pretty. He was glad of it as a teenager and in college. An apex predator for his beauty alone.

But all the prettiest flowers have poison hidden at the root.

That prettiness felt more like a threat the older he got, and now when he walks home from his closing shift at the café it’s always on the edge of his mind. Seokjin is lucky but plenty of omegas aren’t. He's been followed home before. He lives in the bad part of town. Yoongi does too- but living in a bad part of town means something different when you're an omega.

They share things, like mittens and hats and button-down coats, not because they’re the same size but because Yoongi is…soft. Yoongi is fond of Seokjin, and he shows it in the way he talks, the way he’s always touching Seokjin on the elbow or the shoulders. They’re careful. And if Yoongi where an alpha- Seokjin would hate it. If Yoongi where anyone else- he’d hate it.

Yoongi never mentions any friends or lovers, there are no other scents but his that cling to his clothing. After a while Seokjin doesn’t ask. It’s so not cool to ask after the affairs of a beta, you have to be nonchalant.

They go through most of November and the start of December like that, dancing around each other, each shift ends with one of Yoongi’s sweatshirts or coats or scarves folded there on the countertop, covered with coffee rings and crumbs from chocolate cupcakes- waiting for him.

Over time, Seokjin gets used to Yoongi's quirks. Like how he always makes Seokjin drink's with too much sugar and is always ducking back into the office at the coffee shop whenever the phone rings. So much so that Jin starts to associate the sound with his new co-worker. His new co-worker who makes him laugh and feel like he's 14 not 24. His new co-worker whose also his friend and asks Seokjin to come with him to see the tree lighting in the center of town. They pack in like sardines and go, see each other the next day and it’s not boring. Yoongi doesn’t get bored of Seokjin. He doesn’t.

He makes Jin feel like it's not too late for him just by looking at him and saying. "Smart kid like you, though you'd be out of this city by now."

"I am older than you, you know."

"Still a kid- you've got chubby cheeks." A pinch to them that has Jin’s face warming. A flush that could melt any spring.

With Yoongi’s scent on him, Jin isn't as much of a target for harassment. It irks him- that a beta is worth their respect but an omega isn’t. All it takes is just Yoongi's pheromones to settle the thugs and gang members he passes on street corners and make him invisible.

Seokjin wants to be invisible most of the time- mostly on social media which he keeps relatively blank. He's worried about what his old friends might think of his lack of social life, the lack of likes on his selfies that he always deletes after an hour anyways. He's scared of his aunts and uncles calling and asking how he's doing and has he found a job yet? Is he really applying himself as hard as he can? How could a cushy college in America not set him up for success?

Yoongi makes Seokjin feel the opposite of invisible. Yoongi makes Seokjin feel... special in a way he’s always craved. Chosen. When he gives him his jacket, when he bumps their shoulders on the cold nights. Stands closer so that some of his warmth gets shared by Jin. "It's cold," he says, voice a low gravel. A true gentleman, his thick jean jacket held out.

"But you'll be cold on your walk home too."

"Doesn't matter, I'd rather the warmth went to you."

Yoongi gives him his flannel, his hat, his everything just so that Seokjin can feel a little bit safer on his walk home. How many layers of fabric and viscera separates Jin’s heart from Yoongi’s scent? How many?

And then Seokjin’s twice yearly heat hits, and he doesn’t see Yoongi for nearly 5 days.

He wakes up one morning in early December and it feels like someone’s holding him under warm water. An ache in his chest that’s so visceral he checks his ribs for wounds. But the wanting is there, ever present, a phantom limb.

Heats are just another vestigial trait left over from shapeshifting times. No one can shift anymore- but the more animal side like the scents and heats and secondary genders still remain. Seokjin usually doesn’t go into heat until the spring as is usual for most omegas. Something in his body must have confused Yoongi’s warmth for the change of the seasons.

Seokjin’s heats have always been brutal.

A fever is pretty typical as far as heats go. He’s got some cramping along with the mess and honey sweetness between his legs that goes untended too and under enjoyed. Unlike the bone deep exhaustion that has him wanting to swath his body in soft blankets and nest the day away

And do little else but fuck and breed, but Seokjin’s so annoyed by that he hardly touches himself.

Breeding season is a fire that never ends. A particular sexual hunger that cannot be sated by Seokjin’s hands alone. Beyond the violent need for sexual attention, he finds himself reaching out for hands that aren’t there, nosing at his sheets for a scent he finds in mittens and an old flannel. His dreams are a tangle of slick, pleasure, chocolate muffins and big hands.

On the second day he thinks to check his phone and finds a text from an unknown number.

Unknown (12:28): Please make sure you eat something.

A pause then, where sweat beads on Seokjin’s forehead and he whimpers out through the next wave of wanting. Omega cock hard and straining against the nest, loose with Yoongi’s things dotted along the barrier. Smelling like chocolate.

Seokjin bites them just to taste, blunt omega teeth sinking into the fabric. Hungry and Helpless.

Unknown (12:28): Let me know if you need anything.

It’s too much to offer for strangers and too much to offer for just friends. Seokjin resists the urge to call and talk to him, but just barely. Probably sparing himself from some helpless begging and friendship ending embarrassment.

It feels like someone’s scraping out the inside of his uterus with rusty tongs. Going through a heat without a partner feels like being touch starved only worse- like he actually is wasting away because there isn’t anyone holding him. If people could starve from lack of love Seokjin would. His heat is mistimed, too early, most of the time Jin takes a suppressant to make sure it doesn’t come.

Jin tries to ignore what it means at first. Unable to meet Yoongi’s gaze when he sees him after. How do you explain to a beta that being around them, feeling safe with them, was enough to make your heat come early? It doesn’t help that he’s unable to return his clothes like usual- due to the slick-soaked state they'd been in. Much to his pink-cheeked shame.

Jin’s a little thinner, a little gaunter because eating during a heat is always a little hard- when the wanting strikes so completely that other needs are pushed out. Yoongi cooks him up a whole tray of chocolate muffins and makes him sit through the whole of his shift on his first day back. Sets his jacket over Jin’s shoulders when he nods off in one of the booths around midnight and lets him sleep until a half hour before their manager is supposed to show up.

Seokjin is already awake when he comes close. Jin has his eyes closed; head tipped against the vinyl back of one of the booth seats. Resting his eyes. “No one’s taken care of me in a long time you know.” When his eyelashes flutter open, Yoongi is looking at him. There’s no one in the coffee shop on account of how early it is, the clock in the corner is red, flashes that it’s close to three am.

“No one’s looked after me in a long time either.”

Seokjin’s eyelashes flutter against his cheek. “I could do it.”

Yoongi just huffs and hands him a cup of coffee. It’s made just the way that Seokjin likes it. Jin takes a sip of it and hums, licking his lips. Yoongi watches. Eyes flickering down and then to Seokjin’s eyes.

“We’ll see about that.”

And then Seokjin’s basement apartment floods and half his stuff gets ruined and Yoongi offers his couch and shit- the rest is basically history.

Christmas passes and they cut off a branch from a tree at the park and stick it in the only empty corner of the apartment, hanging pilfered and stolen ornaments from the shop on the branches. And they get each other necessities like socks and a new pair of shoes for Jin with their limited extra funds.

But things are easier now that there’s just one apartment. And they won’t have to stress for long because both of them get raises before valentine’s day. Yoongi will hardly let Seokjin sleep on the couch for weeks at a time and his bed was big enough for the two of them.

It was winter they could save on heating if they just got a little closer. A little snuggling never hurts anyone right? Seokjin doesn't need to ask if Yoongi's lonely- if he's got someone. Yoongi defies what Seokjin knows of most betas; usually elusive and unwieldy, uncommitted and cold. If Omegas are like moon's and alphas are like sun's then beta's are like comets, coming into orbit every now and then.

But Yoongi is not a cold icy rock that throws Seokjin the barest hint of affection. On the contrary, Yoongi's always so warm.

“Last snow.” Yoongi says, standing outside of the coffee shop wearing Seokjin’s sweater- so big on him that it falls to his mid-thigh. Yoongi’s legs aren’t so skinny anymore. His kiss tastes like the cold, cold lips and warm big hands, and Seokjin wonders how he ever worried. How fate ever let him wonder when there was this waiting for him.

There are 6 other people waiting for Seokjin, he just has to be patient.

There is something about a pair of arms that you know are meant to hold you and keep you safe. Something unnamable that blocks out all reason and fear and leaves only hope. Seokjin feels it the second he sinks into Yoongi’s strong arms and feels that heat, the heat of belonging. Maybe it’s strange that he’s older. Maybe it’s strange that Seokjin wants him and not the countless other knot-head alphas society says an omega should end up with. Beta’s and omega’s are not supposed to be enough for each other.

By the time he’s saved enough for a deposit for a new apartment Seokjin never wants to leave and Yoongi would never make him. Now Seokjin grabs Yoongi’s flannels not out of pure safety but because he likes having the beta’s scent close. It's like sea salt and chocolate. It conjures up warm nights around a bonfire at the beach with s’mores.

They do that on the weekends, a low-cost date night because they can’t afford anything better but it’s better than any fancy dinner at Nobu or the steakhouse. Just because it’s them. And Seokjin makes Yoongi perfect little sandwiches of love and marshmallow, and Jin eats only the chocolate out of them cuz really- that’s his favorite part.

They’re a pack even if it’s just the two of them. Seokjin tells himself he can be happy with just this even though every day on his walk home he wonders if Yoongi will still be at their apartment, always worried that today is the day that Yoongi’s just- gone. It makes his face when he opens the door, the shy smile and the open arms- that much more delicious to behold.

There are horror stories of that happening everywhere- My beta was fine until he wasn't. My beta left our pack on a random afternoon- said he had a job lined up across the country. I came home and my beta had another alpha in our bed, and I couldn't even be angry- that's just how betas are after all. Do you ever think it's fucked up? How they don't have to be faithful to one pack.

You can't be angry. Betas are biologically designed that way. Just be happy you're in his roster.

Beta's always stray. Seokjin knows that and accepts it as a fact before Yoongi's even officially his boyfriend. It's not like Seokjin's not allowed to date other people either, it's socially acceptable for an omega- with a beta or not- to look for an alpha. But Seokjin doesn't date. He doesn't date anyone once he and Yoongi become a pack. It would feel weird, to bring someone into their orbit.

It doesn’t escape him that Yoongi puts their next apartment in Seokjin’s name the first time they decide to move- just in case he needs it. Yoongi wouldn’t be so unkind as to leave Seokjin without making sure he has a roof over his head. Seokjin looks for the hints of others. Other scents on Yoongi's clothes, and any suspicious absence. But there's nothing, nothing that hints that Yoongi's got someone else.

Omega's are biologically inclined to seek out alpha's. Especially omega's in their prime like Seokjin. Seokjin never thought he’d be the one to change first, to want more first.

But then he meets Namjoon in a Laundromat of all places. (Really?Who meets their soulmate in a fucking laundromat?)

(Next Chapter)

~-~

(Read the first Version of this story Here)

Notes:

- Ahhh the little pre-section in this chapter. Definitely one of the ones that I thought about cutting out of the story especially because it has so many like- references to Namjoon and he isn’t a character we’ve been introduced too yet.

- I just realized that I use the word ‘court’ to try and describe what the Choi family was trying to do to Yoongi. And you know that’s not exactly what they were trying to do to him like- they where certainly not trying to entice him to be a part of their pack- but it’s close enough!

- It’s important to me that you know the specific smell I’m referring to, the scent Geumjae has is the smell that housefires have. I saw my grandparents’ house burn down to the ground once, fire smells different when it’s memories that’s burning.

- Originally when I was first writing bily- I just looked up the name of Yoongi’s brother and was like- ‘woo there we go’ and thought nothing of it but going forward with this version I want to be clear that I think of him as more of August d- this version of Geumjae is identical to Yoongi besides the scar! If it were ever made into a movie I think Yoongi and Geumjae should be played by the same actor and edited parent trap style.

- (SPOILER) you’ll notice at the very end of Yoongi’s section where he’s wondering what the pack is doing at that moment- he doesn’t mention or wonder about jimin. That is because Jimin is actually directly above him in the cathedral with a gun trained on Geumjae but! You’d never know that unless you had already finished the story! Just a little tidbit that only makes sense if you look at everything closely.

- Did you notice the hyyh reference? Yoongi’s lighter?

- I just realized that Yoongi parrots Seokjin’s words when he’s talking to the m/c from this chapter to chapter 12 the “I could do it” I could love you, I could be your person! Ah the beauty of unintentional parallels (my brain is like a record skipping. The same wishes and dreams on repeat where I write out the same tenderness again and again, hoping that something will stick, like flesh made flame, like sugar made sweet and friendship bracelet made bond).

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