Archive of Our Own

Jongho knows that, classically, the alpha, when enamored, will attempt to court an omega. 

It was one of the fun things that Jongho remembered learning in his early school days, before he decided to be an idol. Before he experienced the real ache of being an omega in a world that didn’t value him. Of course, sitting in class, day in, day out and hearing all about how his biology was primed for breeding, for being lesser than, for satisfying alphas that could not care about him in the slightest, was stomach churning. They were haunting words that stuck with him and made him cringe away from his alpha classmates or try to be more boisterous in playground activity so he wasn’t classified like those other omegas. The ones that softened when talked to by an alpha, or praised the omegean lifestyle of having no ambitions other than serving their alpha. He wasn’t them. He promised himself that he never would be. 

But the courting sounded magical. This is what he pretended he didn’t want as an omega. This is where his omega instincts betray him. He wants to be pampered. He wants to be treated as something special. Not different. Just – precious. Loved. 

If done right, his omega lifestyle teacher – who was the only omega educator in the entire school – explained, courting is a beautiful process tailored to the receiver's tastes. 

Flowers, gifts, jewels, food. Expensive, lavish things. This is how an omega is treated when being enticed to join a pack. But now – older and settled into a pack of his own – Jongho realizes that his alphas have given him things that mean much more than that. Protection. Promises to never hurt him. Treatment that says you are as valuable as we are, and any affection we slather you in is because of who you are, not what you were born as. 

Precious, priceless things. Things Jongho desperately needed when he decided to become their omega. 

But now, happy in his role in his new pack, Jongho feels a distant itch inside of him. A tug. Something instinctual, hundreds of years old, that says give, give, give. It isn’t customary for the omega to give many gifts. In tradition, the omega is the homemaker. Their gift comes in the form of washing up, pr cooking, or keeping the peace between their alphas. Jongho, however, doesn’t do that. He cleans up after himself, helps in the kitchen after large meals, does his round of chores when the board fixed above the sink (by Seonghwa) says so. But other than that, no one looks to him to cook unless he wants to. No one makes him do laundry for them unless he offers. No one pushes him to do menial labor that they could do for themselves. 

And they certainly don’t look to him to settle their squables like children. If San and Wooyoung happen to be teasing each other while in Jongho’s presence, San might turn to him with wide eyes, but it’s friendly. There is not a single layer of command or hierarchy in his expression. It’s Jongho, help me, I’m begging. It’s playful and there is no anger when Jongho just smiles and watches Wooyoung descend upon San, teeth first. 

This ache he's feeling now is instinctual, that much he knows for sure. He isn’t doing the duties that are meant for him. There is a lack. He needs to make up for it. 

So Jongho decides if this pack of alphas will be his, if they're giving him the choice to choose them, then it's up to him to prove his worth to them. He’ll court them. He’ll decorate them in lavish things. His alphas will get the best because that is what they deserve. 

He buys Seonghwa flowers in every shade of his favorite color. Vases and vases full, all tied with bows, all signed with cards with his name on it. The earthy smell lingers in their dorm for weeks, mixing nicely with the pleased note of mint that Seonghwa carries. He blushes anytime he sees Jongho; tucking close on movie nights and locking arms with him whenever they go out for their schedules. 

He gets Hongjoong a new watch; ties a note to it that says so you remember what time to come home to us. It’s engraved, of course, with the words for our captain on it. Simple. Clean. Functional. Hongjoong cries when he gets it. He wears it with every outfit he can. He snaps at the stylists when they try to touch it. 

He gets Yeosang clips for his hair. He says you look pretty with it long, and Yeosang tips his head all around, trying to duck from the affection. Eventually, Jongho’s will wins out, and Yeosang rumbles, pleased as Jongho asks if he can put them in. Jongho doesn’t need to, but he takes his time carding his hands through the black locks, murmuring things like pretty, and so gorgeous, until Yeosang’s ginger peach scent is strong enough that he could be in a rut. 

Jongho takes San and Wooyoung out to dinner. Orders all their favorite dishes and then some. Watches them from across the table as they eat well. They slide their chairs closer on either of Jongho’s sides, trying to level chopsticks at him, wanting to feed him. He allows them. This is their gift – they’re constantly trying to put their love for him somewhere. To quantify it and show him how much of it there is. Mouthful after mouthful of Dakgalbi is the answer. After the dinner, they’re all tipping into each other, full and bubbly, and handsy. San can’t stop petting the back of Jongho’s neck. Jongho keeps his arm secured around Wooyoung’s waist. Wooyoung kisses their cheeks between food-drunk giggles. When Jongho settles into bed, he’s swathed in their smell, warm all the way to his toes. 

For Mingi, who gets cold often, who gets excited and forgets to wear gloves, he buys a coat. He spends five hours shopping for the perfect one: long and furry, warm inside and out. Jongho gets it tailored to fit all of Mingi’s dimensions. When he pulls it out, it’s right before they’re about to leave for a schedule. Jongho helps him into it, under the watchful, loving eyes of his alphas, then buttons him into it. He’s careful and intent, and Mingi watches him the entire time. When Jongho is done, he pats Mingi’s chest twice. There, he says. And Mingi sweeps him up into a giant hug, spinning him around their small entry-way. 

For Yunho, who burns energy every single day moving and dancing and rehearsing for them, Jongho pens down the man's favorite recipe. He treks to the store on his own, fills up three grocery bags. He comes home, requests the kitchen for himself, (which makes his alpha's ears prick up in interest) then he cooks. He dices and whisks and sautées. He seasons and steams and pours Yunho a drink while he's at it. When he sets the meal down in front of Yunho, promising more courses after this one, the alpha squints at him knowingly.

“You're courting us,” he goes. Jongho tries not to feel caught. “Why?”

“I want you to be my Alphas,” he says, because explaining everything he's thinking seems like a lot of work when it all boils down to that anyway. 

Yunho makes a sound that Jongho recognizes. Pride and indignation and pleasure all rolled into one. “Done. Now we –”

“I want to do it properly.”

Yunho hesitates. He studies Jongho for a second. Jongho watches the way his lip pulls to the side. The inside of his cheek sucking in as he thinks. “Jongho,” he starts slowly, “there is a proper way to do this. All of it. Courting, the pack, the whole hierarchy. It would change the way we live. It wouldn't be good for any of us. It's not what we want.” He shakes his head as if something on Jongho's face is putting up an argument. “There's no need for propriety when we can just be us.”

Jongho feels slighted. It's irrational, but he's upset. He knew that being such a headstrong omega would cut him off from Omegan things – that was his goal. But now it's also stopping him from being anything more? Is it either submit and be accepted or reject and be rejected? 

“What's the harm in a few flowers?” He asks. It's more hostile than he means it to be, but Yunho is gracious about it. 

“Nothing,” he replies gently. “Nothing at all. But if you stress yourself out over this, it won't be good. Not just for you either.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Yunho pats the chair next to him. Jongho sits. He wants to be upset that his gift and the night is being ruined by his own misunderstandings, but Yunho picks up his chopsticks. He tastes the food, hums in approval. Eats more. Jongho is soothed as he eats. That tugging, yearning thing inside of him finally eases. 

“Mh,” Yunho wipes his mouth from the bit of spilled sauce. “Oh, this is delicious. Fuck, Jongho." Jongho lifts his chin, pleased. Yunho eats a couple more bites, feeds Jongho some, then continues. " What I mean is that obviously, out of all of us, omegas have it the worst. By far. It isn’t really a competition. I’m not trying to – you know, alphas are supposedly the dominating rank. We’re the reason that it’s like this. Even still, we're not happy. Some alphas will say so, but the majority of us aren't the stereotypical buff and brash alpha image that we're supposed to live up to.”

Jongho nods, listening intently. In the time that he's been living with them, he's been noticing it more. San flinching when one of them yells a bit loudly. Mingi hiding under Yunho's arm like a baby bird in the dorms but insisting on standing alone when they're in public. Yeosang and his unerring resistance to crying. Seonghwa and his tendency to cry at anything. 

They behave like they're afraid. As if there is some invisible force in the room with them; watching and judging and grading them on living. 

It certainly isn't the image of an alpha that Jongho grew up with. And he's all the more thankful for it. But if they're suffering – 

“If you take a look at other groups, at other packs,” Yunho continues, “you'll probably start to see that they act closer to what alphas are supposed to be.” Jongho frowns. “They fight and posture and take claim over their omegas.” Yunho smiles a bit. It's strained. “What we've built…it's special. It makes sure that you're comfortable. That you're taken care of. But it heals something in me too.” 

“I didn't realize,” Jongho goes. Then he thinks. “I guess there is a lot I don't actually know about alphas.” 

“How could you?” Yunho says. “No one taught you. Just like how no one taught us about omegas. I mean, everything I was told has been wrong so far, hasn't it?”

Jongho nods vehemently. Yunho grins for real this time, amused. Then he sticks out an open palm. Jongho stares, confused. 

“Let's make a deal,” he explains. “We'll learn. Together.” 

Jongho pauses. Squints. “Can I still court you all?” 

Yunho laughs. His shoulders shake with mirth. Jongho waits him out, serious. “ Yes, you stubborn omega,” he says finally, pleased, “yes you can.” Then he pauses, and adds, “please do.” And the slight flush of his cheeks tells Jongho all that he needs to know. 

Jongho puts his hand in Yunho's and shakes it.

Jongho watches his alphas closely now. 

Not that he didn't pay attention to them before. Before, he was careful to take note of things. San's yearning for head pats. Yeosang's urge to drift to corners. The way Hongjoong sleeps; all curled up like a kitten. But now he takes the time to watch them in comparison to other packs they come across. In the halls of Inkigayo, with day suppressor patches on, he watches a group of alphas bump heads to compete for the attention of their omega, who twitters in between them, fluttering their hands to make them quiet down. They're not being listened to. Being treated like a piece of property in a way that makes Jongho's stomach burn in anger. But he makes himself look away from them to the alphas, who, now that he's trying to find it, can see their aggression tearing them apart. They're not close, he realizes. Not a single one of these alphas is comfortable with each other, always prepared to have to win some quiet competition. 

He looks over to his alphas; Wooyoung is laughing, draped over Seonghwa like a blanket, trying to annoy him. Seonghwa is complaining, trying to buck him off, but is failing to. Or - pretending to fail. Jongho knows he's strong enough to shove Wooyoung if he wanted to. Jongho knows Seonghwa could hurt him if needed. 

But he doesn't need to. They don't squabble over things like this. None of them posture for Jongho's affection. Their pack is different. 

In fact, if they are scabbling, Jongho is not expected to join. They know him. They know he's shy. He's quiet. He prefers to watch. And watch he does; silently, amused, astonished. Through it all they don't care for his attention at all. Not to say that they don’t absolutely shower him in affection – in fact, when Jongho gets in the mood to have his alphas dote on him, they all jump at the chance; rubbing his shoulders, butting up against his cheeks and pulling him against their sides like if he was an inch away he’d be too far. They tend to him perfectly, it's just that – 

“You guys don’t fight over me,” Jongho says aloud. 

Hongjoong, at his side, adjusting his mic pack, looks up at him, then follows his gaze over to the trapped omega and tense alphas. He shifts nervously, like he doesn't like the display of aggression. Jongho nearly asks if he wants to switch places, so Jongho is standing closer to them and Hongjoong is tucked between him and the hall, but Hongjoong keeps talking before he can. 

“You’re not a prize to be won,” Hongjoong replies. “You are a person, individual to us and you get to decide whether or not we’re worth your time. Not each other. Whatever silly competition we dream up has nothing to do with what you want, so it doesn’t matter in the slightest.” 

“Hm.” 

Hongjoong's brow furrows worriedly. “Would you…like us to fight over you? Some omegas need the reminder that they belong, and if you want that, I don't want to assume -”

“No,” Jongho says immediately, then he pauses, thinking. He's spent so much time fighting to stop the things that he doesn't like from happening that he has no idea how to express what he does enjoy. “I - I like knowing that you are mine. I like knowing that you all care to be mine; that I matter enough for you to want to remind me that I'm yours. But…I know that without all the games. You don’t need to prove yourselves to me. I already want you as is.” 

Hongjoong eases. His smile blooms beautifully over his face. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear that, Jongho.” He reaches out and cups Jongho's cheek briefly. “My omega.” 

A thrill shoots through Jongho. He purrs, then leans sideways, pushing his face into the touch. After a moment, Hongjoong's hand falls away, and Jongho's eyes return back to the other group, where the head-alpha of the pack has returned and is growling, settling the other alphas in a display of clear power. A frown tugs at Jongho's lips. 

“Is it hard?” He asks, disrupting Hongjoong's peace that seems to come from just watching Jongho's face. 

“Hm?”

“Being head-alpha?” 

Hongjoong freezes, which Jongho should have expected. It's a touchy subject. Similar to being mated and having pups should be for an omega, being the head-alpha of a pack is supposed to be an alpha's greatest joy behind finding an omega to settle down with. They are supposed to want nothing more. It's an honor. Supposedly. 

“Yes,” Hongjoong admits quietly. Then he raises his chin. “But it's worth it. All the stress and worry and responsibility of being this group’s leader and this pack’s leader – I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

“I'm glad you’re our alpha.” Jongho admits. The sentence is more true than can even be expressed. If anyone else was Ateez's leader, Jongho would be breeding fodder for the group. Hongjoong saved him. He'll never forget that. 

But still, Jongho is searching for something more. Beyond the platitudes and honorable statements, he knows there is something else. “Are there days where you wish you could have a break?” He asks.

Hongjoong's expression falters. He sighs. “Of course.” He shrugs. “But this is how it is. This is how it should be. It's a hard task because if it was easy, anyone would do it. And they would be trusted to do it wrong.” 

Jongho doesn't say that many alphas conduct themselves in the wrong way every single day and are praised for it. One day he'll be able to convince Hongjoong that what he does – push past his own teaching and biology in order to be caring and gentle and good in a world that would reward him for the opposite – is remarkable. 

“I can take care of you all,” Hongjoong finishes, smiling reassuringly at Jongho. “No need to worry, maknae. I'm very happy with this pack.” 

Then he begins patting Jongho’s hair, so Jongho lets the stirrings of thought in his mind quiet for now.

Nesting is an indulgence that Jongho didn't let himself have before he met the members of his pack. 

When he was younger, he thought it was stupid. Alphas are born with innate senses that tell them when danger is coming. They can go into protective furies that allow them to fight until their pack is secure. On top of that, their sense of smell is impeccable, especially when it comes to their omegas. They get this special inner voice that can reach down into the core of subordinates and tug, making them listen. Sure, they're stone age abilities, meant to be used during a time in which alphas fought like wild dogs, but it's just degrading that alphas get to have all of that while Jongho gets the fleeting urge to neaten up his pillows.

In junior high, Jongho was so against it that sometimes he would curl up on the floor with a single sheet to avoid giving into his instincts. His parents always made sure that he had enough pillows and blankets and soft things just in case, but he would firmly ignore them, tucking the sheet around his shoulders and glaring, clamping down on the twitching thing inside of him that wanted to make a neat home for an alpha.  

It was something he grew up feeling insecure about. So when he made it to KQ, when he made it to Hongjoong's pack, he never talked about the dim pulse inside of him that wanted him to straighten Wooyoung's jackets, or squeeze his way into Hongjoong's blankets. 

Are you okay, maknae? Yunho asked one day, watching Jongho twitch as they sat on the couch together watching a movie. 

Fine, Jongho managed. I'm fine. 

You smell distressed, Yunho said. Jongho looked at him, betrayed, and Yunho raised his palms. I can't ignore you being upset anymore than you could ignore me. His hands lowered. Tell me? 

Jongho groaned, then reached over and began tucking the blankets around the two of them. Yunho watched silently as Jongho went through methodically, smoothing over the creases and folding until it was perfect. When he was done, Jongho felt soft inside. A new feeling he's never had before. Warm and pleased. His alpha was close in this little makeshift nest. This is what he's been needing all this time. 

You do nest, Yunho said softly. Jongho's gaze snapped up to him, the happy bubble shrinking slightly. He tensed, waiting for Yunho's judgment. What do you need now, Jongho? 

What?

This – Yunho looked down at the blankets tucked around his lap. Is this enough? Do you feel okay? Because I can get you some more – 

Jongho huffed, then flushing with embarrassment, grabbed Yunho's arm and tugged him until he was pressed close to Jongho's side. Stay. He grit. Yunho blinked. You can't– you can't leave. I'll freak out. 

Okay, Yunho said easily. Jongho eased a little. I'm not leaving.

After that it was easier to let that part of himself go around his alphas. Only in small spurts but still. San would watch with awe as he absently shifted the pillows on the couch when they all watched movies. Yeosang would purr loudly, and step respectfully around the pile of jackets Jongho would accidentally leave on their floor. Wooyoung would beg to be there as Jongho itched to fold and plump and smooth out the quilts that Seonghwa kept buying for Hongjoong. They treated his annoying habit like it was precious. 

It’s a part of you , Mingi said once, letting Jongho tuck a scarf around him. So we love it.

It's an O megan thing , Jongho sighed. 

What's wrong with that? Mingi asked so honestly that Jongho blinked. Does it feel nice to do it?

Jongho hesitated. Something in him didn't want to admit that it did. He would be lesser for it. They would take advantage of it. They would –

If I could make you all comfortable , Mingi said, then I would. Not much I can do with my dumb Alphean traits now, can I? We aren't at war with any packs. Then Mingi nudged him. Besides – you should do it for yourself. If it feels good to do it. 

It does, Jongho admitted. Really good. 

Then nest, Jongho, Mingi said. Nest because you need it. We won't take advantage of it, I promise you. 

Slowly but surely, Jongho tested the waters. He used his own bed first; collecting blankets and sheets and scooping it around himself. It was small but comfortable. Good enough, but it felt empty. He swiped one of Mingi’s coats. One of Wooyoung’s pillow cases. Seonghwa’s cardigan. He tucked them into the sheets and inhaled deeply. His heart fluttered. 

Hongjoong caught him in the middle of rifling through his blankets and offered their guest room to Jongho. It was originally supposed to be a nest for us, he said, but I didn’t want to push you if you didn’t want it. I still won’t. The room is open for you. No expectations. 

Jongho waited a week, keeping himself away from the guest room and just cocooning himself in his own bed. His hands fluttered nervously – fixing the blankets constantly and pushing at the pillows. When San poked his head in, wanting to sleep beside him, they had to move to the living room, because Jongho was too anxious about the makeshift nest. 

Finally, came a day where everyone was out. Seonghwa was visiting home, Hongjoong was in the studio, and the rest were all out shopping. Jongho waited an hour after the house had gone silent just to be sure, then he slipped down the hall and stopped in front of the cracked guest room door. 

The room was bare, with well vacuumed carpet and a single bed in the middle. There was an empty closet and a dresser off against the wall, but nothing else. Jongho inhaled – the scent of faint vanilla hung in the air – Seonghwa was the last person through here, probably to dust. 

Tentatively, Jongho stepped inside. 

“I want to build a nest,” he said to himself quietly, standing and waiting for that feeling inside of himself to bloom. Nothing happened. He bit his inner cheek. Maybe he wasn't ready. Maybe the space was just too big. 

Slowly, he got situated. He pushed the bed frame to the side. Pulled the mattress to the floor. He threw a couple of sheets over it, then added blankets, then pillows. He tilted his head, then undid the whole thing. He put the mattress back on the frame and got their floor pads from the closet. He lined up four and then covered it with blankets. He spent at least a half an hour tucking and making sure every surface was soft and fuzzy – covered in things with his pack’s scent on them. He got the big pillows that they sometimes sit on when they want to play video games and put them on top. 

He sat down on it all hesitantly. Then he stretched his limbs. Then he laid back. He rolled once. Then again. Then, when everything was coated in his scent, he closed his eyes. 

It was some of the best sleep he’s had in years. 

...

He woke up to a darker room. Light was spilling in through the crack in the door from the hallway. He could hear quiet murmuring. Excited voices trying to keep it down. 

“ – finally made a nest –” 

“ – when can we –” 

“ – think he’s okay with it?” 

Jongho sat up, startled, then made himself pause. He took a deep breath, searching for the feeling inside of him that said danger, danger, do not proceed, you will be taken advantage of, but it never came. He was safe here. Safe with them. It would be okay if he shared this with them. More than that, he wanted them to have this too. He built this nest with all of them in mind: a sliver by the window for when San wanted to bask in the sunlight, lots of different textures in the blankets for Yeosang to run his hands over, memory foam pillow for Mingi’s back. This is theirs because he wants it to be, not because they’re demanding it from him. 

He took another breath, then stood and opened the door to let them in.

“Alphas need nests too,” Hongjoong whispered to him as he nervously watched them ooh and ahh over his creation. “Nobody says it, but they’re very grounding for us. They center us. Give us somewhere to hide, give us an embrace when our pack isn’t around.” 

Jongho looked over – watched Yunho exhale softly as he bonelessly sprawled over the blankets – and smiled to himself.  

They're leaving a club – which, already, a bad place to be – when another alpha tries to put their hands on San. 

It was a pretty lack-luster night. They had the next couple of days off for holiday, and Jongho was planning to spend it penning down his plan for his next heat. It was around the corner and he had no clue what to expect since he hasn't taken a suppressor since joining his pack. He needed to plan. Should plan.  But then Wooyoung bounced into the living room and proposed the idea of them all going out tonight. We only go out to eat – he said, pleading, we should have fun tonight. 

San, of course, wasn't going to let Wooyoung go alone. And Hongjoong wasn't going to let them go unsupervised. Seonghwa was determined to make sure that Hongjoong used at least some of this break to rest, so he tagged along to keep an eye on the clock. Yunho was curious to see how Seonghwa would make Hongjoong rest and relax at a club. Mingi and Yunho are firmly attached, and Yeosang wanted a drink. 

Jongho didn't want to be alone, so he followed them all out. 

The first club was terrible. A weird mix of a sex and social club by a bar, where omegas were leashed and alphas talked over them, like they weren't there. They all were inside for half a second at the most before they realized what they were looking at, but it was enough for Jongho to need to wrestle his way back out and into the open air, fighting for breath. 

Yunho's palm found his back, pressing gently, settling him. Wooyoung was fretting, expressing clumsily that he had no idea and he would never take them to a place like that if he ever thought for just a second– 

I'm okay, Jongho said, sitting up. Wooyoung was wringing his hands together. A couple walked by on the sidewalk. The omega was collared and leashed. They locked eyes for just a second before the omega's gaze slid forward emptily. Can we just – where are we going next? 

They all hustled to get as far away from that club as possible, and in their Uber, Jongho laid his head against Wooyoung's shoulder to express his forgiveness. The upset burnt quality to his apple cinnamon scent faded. By the time they were getting out of the car, he was back to his normal self, and Jongho was feeling more settled. But that accidental interaction must have ruffled all of their feathers, because their time at the next club, while normal and fun, didn’t last too long. 

San spun Wooyoung around on the dance floor, and Hongjoong bought them a couple rounds of drinks, but after an hour or so, they were all crowding together in a way that meant it’s time to go back home. Something dug at Jongho, calling for the nest. 

“Come on,” San said, holding a red-faced, pleased Wooyoung close to him. “Home?”

Jongho hid his smile when Wooyoung clumsily grasped behind him in Jongho’s direction. “Maknae –” he said. “Come here, baby. Wanna smell you.” 

Jongho tucked to his other side, squishing Wooyoung between the both of them as they walked towards the door. Wooyoung, unashamed, nuzzled his nose into the crook of Jongho’s neck, rumbling happily. “You smell so good, maknae.” He groaned. His teeth nipped Jongho’s skin. “You’re so good. So happy you’re here.”

“How much did he drink?” Jongho laughed. San peeked over, bumping the door open as he checked the flush on Wooyoung’s skin. 

“Uh – he had three of his own,” San began,  “then I told him to hold mine and he finished it, and I’m pretty sure he –”

Suddenly, San was being shoved harshly, making Wooyoung and Jongho stumble. Behind them, Yunho made a sound of alarm, and Jongho slid his hands around Wooyoung’s back and waist to catch him before he tumbled to the ground. He looked up just in time to see some random man step closer to San, who was bent at the waist, turning to look at them to make sure they were okay. Because that was the kind of alpha – the kind of person – that San was. 

“Jongho –” Wooyoung says, slippery in Jongho’s hands. He sounds stricken. “Wait –” 

The man shoves San again, in the back, and Jongho’s hearing fuzzes out. 

Something happens to him then – 

Anger and protectiveness sliding through him, thick like syrup, coating every part of him. His brain quiets. His eyesight narrows to what is right in front of him. His sense of smell dials up by ten. He steps forward and puts a strong arm between San and the alpha, and snarls. “Get your hands off my alpha or you won’t like what I do next.” 

The man’s nostrils flare. He seems stunned. When he registers what he’s looking at, he laughs, dismissive and incredulous. He looks past Jongho to his pack behind him. “What, you guys are so weak that you need your omega to fight your battles for you? Pathetic, really, you should be –” 

Jongho grabs the man’s wrist, squeezes, and twists sharply. The alpha gasps – the sound quickly tumbles into a whimper of pain. “What did I say ?” Jongho says, voice low. “Keep talking – really, I’m begging for a reason tonight.” 

“A-alright,” he goes quickly, “get - get off.” 

Jongho’s eyes narrow. 

“I’m sorry, okay? Just let me –” he looks behind Jongho again, this time in panic. “Get your omega.” 

Jongho is pleased when there’s a smug pause before Hongjoong speaks. “Jongho?” 

Jongho sneers, then lets the man go. The alpha stumbles back, quickly going the way he came, leaving them alone. Immediately, with his scent out of Jongho’s nose, Jongho feels calmer, now able to turn and look at San, who is staring at him, stunned. They all are, he realizes. 

“What?” Jongho says defensively. “Don’t tell me I shouldn’t have done that – you may be my alphas, but I’m not gonna let anyone tell me what I should–”

“No, baby,” San steps closer. His tone is gentle and soothes Jongho’s raised hackles. He smells warm and inviting. Perfect cinnamon, unlike before when his scent was acidic in panic. “It’s just – no one’s ever defended me like that before.” Jongho realizes there are tears in his eyes. “And you – you didn’t even think.”

“This is my pack too.” Jongho says. There’s a weird feeling in his gut. Relief maybe. That feeling that is left behind when you stop being tense and feel your body again after having not for a little bit. “I protect you guys too.”

They’re all watching him in wonder for a moment until Yunho huffs an awed laugh. When he speaks, it isn’t to Jongho. “See?” He says. “What did I say? He’s different.” 

Jongho flushes, pointedly ignoring their stares and hooking his arm with San’s. “Come on. You need to be in the nest.” 

...

At home, Jongho growls until San is all rolled up in his scent, tucked in the nest and purring loudly. He mentions something about how Jongho would make a good alpha, and Jongho ignores it, busy scratching San’s hair the way he likes best. 

“How would it go?” 

Yunho, laying out on the couch with his head in Jongho's lap, opens his eyes. Jongho's strong fingers in his hair almost have him purring. Jongho can tell by the little hum-sighs he releases with every couple of breaths. When they stop, he nearly pouts. Pouts. 

“Cute,” Jongho says. “Can the big strong alpha pay attention and listen to his omega long enough to answer one question?”

Yunho grumbles, turning his head and nuzzles his nose into Jongho's stomach. “Shut up,” he mutters. “Feels good.” Jongho chuckles, pride making him warm. “How would what go?” 

Jongho suddenly feels shy. This was easier when he thought Yunho wasn’t paying attention.  “How would it go? If I was marked. If I was mated. How would it go?” 

Yunho’s eyes snap open. Jongho’s heart, thundering in his chest, wants to run away from him. Slowly, Yunho sits up, turning so he’s facing Jongho. “Sorry – repeat that, maknae?” 

Jongho’s flushed now. “If you were to mark and mate me … how would it go?” 

“That’s what I thought you asked,” Yunho says softly, wondrously. Jongho opens his mouth, but Yunho goes, “I’m not making fun. I just – sorry. I know this is important. It is. It’s just – talking about it – it's–” 

He doesn't finish, but his adam’s apple bobs, and Jongho knows there's an emotional lump trapping any words that he might have. His eyes are big– almost all black. Just the thought of it is enough to bury Yunho in his instincts, and something about that makes Jongho nervous. Just a little. 

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Jongho blurts. Yunho startles. His expression clears. 

“No –” he goes, and Jongho is relieved to hear Yunho again. Just Yunho. His hyung. Not his alpha. Just his hyung. “No, I – sorry. We can. If you want to. What do you want to know? Specifically.” 

“Specifically?” Jongho thinks for a moment. Yunho doesn’t interrupt. There are a million questions bobbing around in Jongho’s head. All of them things he’s hardly let himself think about for years and years. Am I supposed to be meek? Do you even want me? I’ve never been touched – would it be easier to keep it that way? But there’s one question that matters to him the most. “What would it change?” He asks. “Between us. Would it – would anything change?” 

Yunho softens even further if possible. He doesn’t answer immediately, which Jongho appreciates, because he’d be able to see through empty promises in a second. Instead, Yunho thinks and thinks and thinks. Then, when he’s finished, he speaks. “I’ve never mated an omega before,” he says honestly. That, more than just saying nothing would change, puts Jongho at ease. “So I’m not entirely sure what it would do to us – you know, biologically.” 

Jongho winces, but nods. 

“I know all the things that I was taught,” Yunho continues, “about omegas and how they react to the things that an alpha does. But we both know that can’t be trusted.” Jongho’s heart sinks into his stomach. He wanted so badly to believe that Yunho had the answers. That his secret desire to be mated and marked and loved the way that his body craves could be fulfilled while still keeping all the agency that his members have given him. After so long of denying everything to do with being an omega, he’s never wanted an aspect of his own biology so badly before. And now? To be told that there aren’t any clear answers to whether he can have it the way he wants? It feels like being cut right down the middle. 

But suddenly Yunho reaches out and takes Jongho’s hands into his own. They lock eyes. “But,” he says softly, “I know that you can trust us. I know that we aren’t just our biology. I know that there is too much respect –  too much love – between us to let anything ruin what we have. Hierarchy or not. I know this, Jongho. I feel it too strongly not to believe it fully.” 

Jongho’s vision blurs over. He holds Yunho’s fingers tight in his own. “Okay.” he says, voice small. “I believe you.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Jongho nods. “I do.” He leans forward and butts the crown of his head against Yunho’s cheek. “Thank you, alpha.” 

They're backstage after recording when Jongho says it. 

Today has been a flurry of constant movement. Waking at four am to pile into cars to get styled to get on stage. Jongho, who's been paying attention for a while now, knew to keep an eye on Hongjoong. On days like this he's constantly turning around, switching from giving one command here to giving another here. He talks to staff and PDs and other idols, while also keeping his pack on track as the leader should. 

The recording takes a couple of tries to stick. Mingi stumbles in one, and Seonghwa doesn’t like the way his clothes lay in another, and Wooyoung forgets a move in the next. Each time, Jongho watches Hongjoong take a breath, open his arms, and clap, encouraging them. Hongjoong never falters, never frowns, never glares. He takes them in as they are and works with them until they’re satisfied. 

By the end of their session, Hongjoong is drooping. Blinking exhaustedly, moving in a drifty way, Jongho watches him fumble over his words when talking to one of their agents, and takes a curious, dreadful look at the clock. 

7 am. 

Jongho winces, then straightens. He knows what he needs to do. 

He waits until they’re all shuffled into the greenroom and the door is shut so they can change out of their stage outfits before he stands. 

“Maknae?” Hongjoong notices. A few of the others glance up, concerned over their omega. “Are you okay?” 

“I’m okay,” Jongho nods firmly. “Hongjoong, I would like to challenge you for the pack leader position.” 

Eyes fly open all around the room. Yunho shoots to his feet with an unidentifiable expression – maybe stuck somewhere between panic and confusion – and Seonghwa is looking between them, hands up like he’ll need to hold one of them back. 

Hongjoong’s expression is pale. His eyes are big. “Jongho –” his eyes flutter all over Jongho’s expression and then nervously to the alphas around them. His voice lowers. It’s tinged in anxiety. “Jongho, I’m not going to fight you.” 

Jongho's starting to realize maybe he should have done more research as to what a challenge entailed before just saying it, but it's way too late for that. He’s already come this far. 

“Then don’t,” he says with all the confidence of someone who has no clue what he’s doing. “Just give it up peacefully.” 

San’s mouth is opening and closing like he’s choking, and Wooyoung is gripping Yeosang’s arm as if he’s about to be pulled away, but Hongjoong’s brows are furrowing. The panic is fading, becoming quizzical. “What is this? What are you doing, Jongho?” 

“You need a break,” Jongho says. “So I figured that I’d give you one.” He looks to the other alphas. “You all are always saying that I’m hardly a maknae anyway. That me being an omega has nothing to do with the fact that I look like your hyung.” He softens his voice, turning back to Hongjoong. “Let me lead for today. You should rest. You’re no less of an alpha for it.” 

Hongjoong’s gaze falls to the floor in thought. Around them, Jongho’s alphas are easing; now reassured that whatever horrible thing they believed was about to take place isn’t going to, they’re watching Jongho and Hongjoong curiously. 

“Okay,” Hongjoong breathes. He curls his arms around himself in a protective motion. “Okay. For the day.” 

Jongho nods, then steps forward. Hongjoong cringes a little, like he’s expecting Jongho to be violent, but Jongho just hugs him. Hongjoong’s breath hitches, then slowly, like molasses, he brings his arms up to hug Jongho back. 

...

Being leader is not easy at all. 

Even just for the first hour, Jongho is overwhelmed with people that he needs to talk to. The managers, the directors, the staff, the pack coordinators. It doesn’t help that Jongho has to explain to them all that he’s the one they’ll be discussing Hongjoong’s responsibilities with for the day. It doesn’t help that Jongho’s scent says omega, and he’s speaking to them like he’s an alpha. He can feel them bristle at his tone; fighting their instincts to put him in his place. He doesn’t shrink back. He merely lifts his chin and braces to defend himself. 

For Hongjoong, he thinks, as the PD gives him a distasteful once over. For his pack. 

After that hour, Jongho, built for responsibility, settles into things. 

A big part of the job is just loving and caring for his pack, and Jongho is made for that. He loves them like breathing. So when Yunho sags after the third dance, Jongho touches the nape of his neck and tells the film crew no more. When Yeosang’s scent spikes in distress, Jongho is there to usher him away from the insistent cameras with a slight growl. When Hongjoong walks behind the pack listlessly, confused without his usual spot in the front, Jongho tugs him into their middle, safe and sound. 

They move from meal to performance to interview to recording with ease, and Jongho makes sure all his alphas are purring with happiness after every event. 

“Are you okay?” San worries when they have a slight break. He’s reaching, clingy. “Haven’t doted on you all day. You’ve –” 

“I’m okay,” Jongho says, and means it. He smiles, then leans to nuzzle his nose against San. San exhales. “I feel warm. I feel good. I don’t know." He doesn't really understand it, but he tries not to think about it much. Jongho has his theories, and all of them stem from the same terrible place. Maybe it's because he’s herding his pack like pups, and he's meant to have them. Maybe it's that he’s creeping up on when he would normally refill his suppressants, and might be going into pre-heat soon, so he needs things like this to feed that instinct in him. Or maybe it's simply that he’s an omega, and so he’s at his best when he’s in service to his pack. 

But San smiles. He kisses Jongho’s skin. “You love us,” he decides, quieting the noise in Jongho’s head. “And you love showing it.” 

Jongho's shoulders relax. He nuzzles again, in a quiet confirmation, pleased at San’s spiced chocolate undertones that signal his happiness. “Mh,” he has to pull away before he gets too dizzy. “Where’s Hongjoong?” 

“With Seonghwa,” San answers easily. 

“Good. Is he eating?” Jongho stands, not waiting for the answer. “Take me to them.” 

San nods obediently, and Jongho tries not to relish too much in how good it feels for someone not to question him, but to immediately listen. They go into the room where Hongjoong is curled into Seonghwa’s side. There’s a plate of chicken in front of them, only picked at. 

“Jongho,” Seonghwa says. Hongjoong stirs, much to Jongho’s regret. He steps closer, sitting at Hongjoong’s other side. 

“Hi,” Jongho whispers. “You can sleep, hyung. I just wanted to check on you.” 

Hongjoong smiles a little. “I’m okay. Thank you for checking on me. You’re a good leader.” 

“It’s only for another couple of hours,” Jongho says. He touches Hongjoong’s cheek. “You do so well all the time. I figure a break is something you deserve.” 

Hongjoong seems sheepish. “I was afraid for a moment when you said you wanted to challenge me. When alphas fight for pack leader, it’s brutal. There’s no winners there. And – and you’re my omega, so I just –” 

Jongho understands. The panicked, torn looks. The fear. It wasn’t the fact that Jongho wanted something, it was how he went about it. They would have had to choose between protecting their maknae, their omega, and supporting their leader, their alpha. 

“You don’t have to be that,” Jongho promises. He looks up at Seonghwa – at San, who’s sitting at their feet, watching. “Any of you. You never have to be what they tell you you should. Just – just be mine.” 

Hongjoong exhales shakily, then leans into Jongho space. It’s a slow thing – asking for permission more than anything – and Jongho grants it by not moving. Hongjoong buries his face in Jongho’s neck and inhales steadily. “Thank you, maknae. Thank you for taking care of us.” 

Jongho touches his alpha’s back, holding him. “Always.”

Jongho is wary anytime he's called into a meeting at KQ alone. 

Most of the time it's unwarranted. It's just his manager setting up meetings with vocal coaches, or personal progress reports, or discussions about his contract. But sometimes the park coordinators are there. And those are the meetings that make Jongho feel off. 

Today is one of the latter. 

They call him in around three in the afternoon, and they're smiling in a placating way; knowing that Jongho has an aversion to environments like this. It really fucking sucks because they know he has issues, yet they don't understand why. If they took the time to understand the experience of being an omega walking into a room of alphas and betas that are trying to instruct him and his body, then they'd get it, but instead, they try to pretend to get it, which just comes across as if they think he's crazy and will snap at any moment. 

Jongho sits down, already missing Yunho. 

“Hello, Jongho,” the head of the table says. He's smiling in a gentle way. He's the beta, and they all must have decided he'd be the least threatening person to tell Jongho whatever he needs to know. It sucks that they're right. “Thank you for coming in today. We just wanted to talk about how things are going with your pack.” 

Jongho resists the urge to squirm. He feels like a young omega at TOP Media again; sitting in front of his elders and being verbally walked into a trap. Never speak ill of your alphas, especially not to other alphas. It's considered a betrayal, and you will be punished for it. 

Fortunately, he has nothing but praise for his pack and his alphas. And he's starting to believe the fact that if they were asked this question about him, they'd have the same. 

Jongho takes a deep breath. “Things are going well. We're getting along. There aren't any fights. I – I feel safe.” 

The man nods. “And what is the status on mating?” 

Jongho stiffens. 

He thinks back to that conversation with Yunho on the couch – his warm smile and quiet promise – and how, even through his instincts, he was able to reassure Jongho that he'd be safe no matter what. 

“We're discussing it.” Jongho decides on. The expression the man sports upon hearing that tell Jongho that wasn't the answer he was looking for. “My alphas prefer my comfort over my body.” 

“So you're keeping it from them,” someone says, and Jongho whips his gaze over too slow to know who. 

Before Jongho can respond, the head of the table speaks up. “Jongho, you understand our concern, don't you?” Jongho curls his hands tightly around the wood handles of the chair he's in. “We have a good thing going here, and with your next heat coming up, we think it's about time to solidify it.” 

“You can't heat-trap us into being a group,” Jongho snarls. "Are you insane?" 

“Watch your tone,” the alpha next to him snaps. Jongho resists the innate urge to cower. 

“No.” He says instead. He stands. His knees threaten to give out but he grips the edge of the table to keep himself upright. “I won't watch my tone. And if I decide to share my heat with my alphas, it will be because I want to, not for any other reason.” 

...

When Jongho gets home, he beelines for the nest. 

His commotion must stir the rest of his alphas, because his phone, on vibrate in his pocket, buzzes a couple of times in quick succession. Jongho feels some of the anxiety that's tightening his limbs let go slightly. He knows they're asking him if he wants company or comfort, refusing to just barge in on his space if he needs it. 

Months ago he might have ignored them, but now – 

He exhales shakily, pulling his phone out of his pocket and clumsily saying yes to their clamor of if he needs something. Just one please, he adds, because the thought of too much skin-to-skin so soon after that makes him want to throw up. 

In no time at all the door is creaking and the subtle scent of ginger peach is wafting over to him. 

Thank god. 

“Maknae,” Yeosang murmurs. He shuts the door behind himself, and Jongho turns to his shadow, reaching, needy for him. “Jongho? Hey, I'm here – don't– hey.” Their palms connect in the dark. Jongho's breath hitches. Yeosang slides his hand up Jongho's forearm until he's sitting right in front of him. “I'm here, omega. Everything is okay.” 

Jongho breathes and the tension that was holding him finally leaves. “Fuck.” 

Yeosang hums. Jongho knows the sound as his I'm-preparing-myself-for-anger noise. “What happened?” 

“KQ,” Jongho breathes. Yeosang sighs. “They asked about stuff. Mating. I don't–”

“That's none of their business,” he says simply, sliding closer to put a palm against the nape of Jongho's neck. He smells sweeter so close, and something in Jongho’s stomach tugs. “Hongjoong will talk to them.” 

“Yeah,” Jongho swallows, thoroughly distracted by the ginger peach filling his nostrils. It makes him feel vulnerable. He thinks it's okay. “Alpha?” 

“Hm?” 

“Please scent me.” When Yeosang doesn't respond immediately, Jongho continues, desperate. “I can't smell like them – please, let me – I need to smell like you, alpha.” 

Yeosang's light hold tightens once as an answer. Jongho bites back relief. “Lay back.” Yeosang instructs. Jongho lays back, chest rising and falling quickly. Yeosang touches it gently. “Breathe slowly, Jongho. I'm right here.” 

Jongho closes his eyes, trying to follow instructions. He's safe here. Yeosang is safe. 

Slowly, Yeosang touches him. Light and feathery, down his arms. He plays with the sleeves of Jongho's sweatshirt for a moment before sliding deft fingers under to touch his pulse. He creeps up Jongho's skin, and before he gets too sensual, he pulls away. He's perfect, because it's only a beat before he's leaning over Jongho, brushing his nose back and forth over Jongho's neck, kissing lightly. It's soothing and noncommittal and full of love – exactly what Jongho needs. 

“There you go,” Yeosang murmurs when he's done and Jongho is loose-limbed and coated in him. “All done, pretty omega.” 

Jongho's stomach swoops. He's grateful it's dark. His face is hot. “Thank you,” he croaks. 

“Of course.” Yeosang doesn't lay next to him. “Do you need space?” 

Jongho thinks for a second. “No. But – just you still? For a little?” 

Yeosang settles next to him in the nest, chuckling when Jongho turns on his side to curl his limbs around him and hold him like he's a pup. “Sorry,” Jongho says, even though he doesn't know what he's apologizing for. 

“No, this is nice,” Yeosang murmurs. “Different, but nice. Rest, omega. I'll watch over you.” 

The staff members that made those comments were fired. Jongho's heat cycle was banned from discussion at KQ for anyone that wasn't in his pack. 

Additionally, Jongho was given a few days off to rest. It was mainly so he wouldn't drop the Board of Omega Vocational Treatment on their company, or sue for sexual harassment, but Jongho took the break with pleasure. It was coming at a perfect time too. He had been feeling more lethargic recently. It was just harder to get himself up and moving. He thought he was getting sick, because he's also been warm, but that usual weakness that came with being sick wasn't there. It was just – laziness. Laziness with a hint of clinginess. 

“Maknae,” Wooyoung says, tone questioning as Jongho pushes his way between him and Mingi on the couch. “You okay?” 

“Mhm,” Jongho shifts a little, unable to get comfortable. Mingi curls an arm around his shoulders, not even looking at him. Jongho appreciates his nonchalance. “Just –” he huffs in frustration, unable to relax. He sighs loudly, looking at Mingi. “Can I sit on your lap?” 

If Mingi is surprised by the request, he doesn't show it. “Yeah. C'mere, Jongho.” Jongho stands and straddles Mingi's lap, laying his face in the crook of his hyung's neck. Mingi puts one hand on Jongho's back, keeping him still, and Jongho finally – finally – feels that weird thing inside of him relax. 

“Where's Hongjoong?” He mutters into Mingi's skin. 

Mingi's answer is a rumble from all around him. “Schedule stuff. He'll be home tonight.” 

Jongho senses more than feels Wooyoung scoot closer. His lithe fingers creep under Jongho's hoodie, rubbing carefully at his stomach in a way that makes Jongho purr. “Are you sure you're okay, baby?” 

“Fine,” Jongho barely manages through his own noises. He exhales a full breath when Mingi kisses his hair. 

“Just need to be close,” Mingi answers for him. “This happened a lot when we roomed together.” 

“Not a lot,” Jongho complained. 

“Enough,” Mingi says playfully. “Shh. Just let me hold you.” 

Jongho growls, then nips at Mingi's neck. Mingi laughs, and Jongho is rocked with the movement. Wooyoung leans closer, laying his chin on Jongho's shoulder. They're all so close now. 

“Wow. You smell so good, omega.”

Jongho lazily turns his head to look at Wooyoung. He can't really smell anything other than his alphas’ pleasant mix of chamomile and apple cinnamon. It's warming to his core. “Do I?” 

“You do,” Mingi agrees thickly. The hand on Jongho's back pushes a little, bringing him closer. Jongho doesn't protest, wiggling in. “So good, baby.” 

“You smell good too,” Jongho brings his hand up to tangle in the hair at the back of Mingi's head. He scratches lightly, pleased when Mingi's scent deepens. “So warm. Wanna–” Jongho pulls a little, and Mingi lets him, showing his neck, letting Jongho nip at the skin there. 

Mingi inhales and exhales tightly, not quite moaning, but close. Wooyoung watches with wide, wide eyes at Jongho tongues at his Adam's apple. 

“Did this happen too?” Wooyoung wonders in awe. “When you roomed together?”

“No,” Mingi whines. Jongho's busy biting at his unblemished skin. “But fuck – hah – fuck, Jongho, fuck. I – I wish it did.” 

Jongho growls a little. “My alpha.” He pulls back so he can look in Mingi's dazed eyes. “Mine.” 

“Yours,” Mingi slurs. 

“Hey,” Wooyoung says, “me too. I'm yours too.” Jongho looks over, eyes gleaming. Wooyoung's stomach flutters. Jongho reaches out and curls a hand into Wooyoung's shirt, pulling him close. Wooyoung scrambles to keep up. 

“Kiss me,” Jongho instructs. 

Wooyoung immediately pushes close, taking Jongho's lips, slotting his hands on either sides of Jongho's jaw. Jongho moans into the kiss, immediately letting Wooyoung tongue into his mouth. He's strong and swift, claiming Jongho's mouth as his own in a way that makes Jongho melt into Mingi more. 

Distantly, he can feel Mingi's hands slide down to Jongho's hips. Where Wooyoung's fingers were earlier, he's now massaging, making Jongho's mind mush. 

Wooyoung pulls away, panting. “Fuck. Fuck, omega.” Jongho growls, trying to get Wooyoung's lips back, but he holds Jongho's jaw still. “Hold on, baby. I need a second, I – fuck, you smell so good I might fucking pass out.” 

“Here,” Mingi says, getting Jongho's attention. “You can kiss me.” 

Jongho's just about to do so when someone clears their throat behind them. 

“What's going on here?” Seonghwa questions. 

Wooyoung jumps back like he's been caught. Mingi's hands fall away. Jongho, however, just whines, needy. Seonghwa steps closer, leaning down and peering into Jongho's face. Jongho tries pushing up to kiss him, but Seonghwa cups his cheek smoothly, stopping him. 

“Woah,” he goes. His brows furrow. “Jongho, how long have you been in pre-heat?” 

Mingi and Wooyoung's eyebrows rise, surprised. Jongho huffs. “M'not. Just want a kiss.” 

“Yeah?” Seonghwa sniffs. “If Hongjoong could smell you, he'd put you up in the nest. You're about to go into heat, my love.” 

Jongho's heart sinks. He can't believe he didn't notice it earlier. Something pricks at the corners of his eyes. He feels ashamed in a weird way. “Oh.” All his alpha's are watching him in concern. “Oh, I –” he leans back, embarrassed. “Sorry.” He says to Mingi. “I didn't mean to –” 

“I liked it.” Mingi promises. “I'm not complaining.” 

“Neither am I,” Wooyoung grins. It falters a bit. “Are you okay, baby?”

Jongho inhales tightly. “Just – don't wanna be alone again.” 

Seonghwa looks stricken. “Love, who said anything about you being alone?” 

“You said – the nest. You said –” 

“No, baby. That's not what I meant.” Seonghwa soothes. “No. This is your first heat with all of us. You're off the suppressors. Hongjoong would just need to make sure that you're as safe as can be, and our safe space is your nest. He would want you in there with all of us if you were okay with it.” 

“Oh,” Jongho says again. “Then … then I can kiss Mingi?” 

Seonghwa smiles. “You can do anything you want, love. Just let me call Hongjoong. Is that okay?” Jongho nods. “Do you want the rest of your pack too?” Jongho nods again. “Okay. I'm gonna tell everyone to come home. Would you like to go to the nest now?” 

“Yes, but –” Jongho bites his lip, stopping himself. 

“What is it, dear?” Jongho pushes through his shame, reaching up and covering Seonghwa’s hand on his cheek with his own. Seonghwa smiles and comes closer. “Need a kiss?” 

Jongho nods once. Seonghwa's smile blossoms beautifully. “Of course, maknae.” 

Seonghwa gently raises Jongho's chin and connects their lips. Jongho whimpers into the kiss, wishing it was stronger, but Seonghwa cups the back of Jongho's neck and squeezes, settling him. 

He pulls away. “Better?” 

“Mhm,” Jongho nods, making his alpha smile. 

“Good. Let your alphas take you to the nest, baby.” 

...

Jongho's never been in heat with his alphas before, but he doesn't get a chance to be scared about it. 

Mingi and Wooyoung take him to the nest quickly. They keep him pressed between them and keep his mouth occupied, and if there's ever a second where it isn't, then Jongho is whining and growling and demanding them back. They let him grab and pull and maneuver them with his strength, and tell him to take everything he needs because they want to give it. 

It isn't long before Yeosang slides into the room, followed by San, then Yunho. 

Yunho's nostrils flare when he closes the door behind him. Immediately his eyes darken. “ Omega.” 

Jongho, letting Yeosang kiss down the back of his neck, reaches out, needy. Yunho immediately gets close, curling an arm under his waist and pulling his omega close. Jongho whines, but Yunho inhales deeply, then groans. 

“Fuck, Jongho,” Yunho goes. Jongho’s head lolls onto Yunho’s shoulder, trying to get closer to his bare skin. “God, you smell better than I imagined.” 

“Alpha,” Jongho pleads. “Alpha, alpha –” 

“Shh,” Yunho guides gently. It isn't an order, and it's accompanied by Yunho kissing Jongho's temple. “I'm here. We're gonna keep you safe. Hongjoong is coming soon. As soon as he's here, we'll take care of you.” 

Dimly, Jongho waits for his stomach to twist with nerves. Take care of you is Alphean code for fuck you into the mattress. It means harsh grabbing, pulling, dominating action. It's never been safe for Jongho before. He's an omega, and even more, he's their omega. But – it's also true that his alphas have never been like that. His alphas don't want to be like that. 

They would never hurt him, and so when they say they'll take care of him, he knows that they mean it. 

He exhales in an accepting way, then lets himself tuck further into Yunho's arms. 

...

His brain is pretty far gone when Hongjoong shows up. 

He's stripped several articles of clothing – too warm and too uncomfortable with them on – but he's keeping his pack close, clumsily grasping and tugging for one when another needs to move. They don't care that he's pushy and essentially ordering them around. In fact, he hears San chuckle to Seonghwa, saying something along the lines of – wouldn't have expected anything different from him. It's terribly fond, and Jongho feels no shame in the way he reaches out and growls to get San in reach right after. 

Hongjoong entering the room doesn't stop anything, but it does smooth things over. Jongho had been getting snippy from the lack of their head-alpha. Kisses were starting to not be enough, and they kept telling him that they needed to wait just a little longer, which only made him more impatient. 

I know, love, Seonghwa murmurs, combing his fingers through Jongho's locks. Jongho purrs, briefly distracted. He just texted that he's down the street. Would you like Yunho to scent you again? 

Hongjoong comes in right in the middle of it. His jacket is half off and his hair is wild. His eyes widen at Jongho's bare skin. “Oh,” he goes. “When you said pre-heat, you meant –”

“I meant we had an hour tops,” Seonghwa finishes. “ Come over here, Kim Hongjoong . Your omega wants you."

Hongjoong steps closer like a man entranced. Jongho whines, wiggling away from Yunho, unable to speak his need into real words. Hongjoong touches him, palm to palm, lacing their fingers together neatly. Jongho can feel his breathing even out from the simple grounding touch. 

“Hi, omega,” Hongjoong whispers, eyes full of wonder and locked on Jongho's cloudy ones. “You're so gorgeous. Can we take care of you, darling? Will you give us the honor?” 

Jongho's grip on his hand tightens. It's the first word his mouth is able to get a hold on since he was placed in their nest. “Yes.” He breathes, trusting them fully. “Yes please.”

…

They're perfect the whole time. 

Gentle, loving, reverent. Jongho has never felt so safe and comfortable, especially not while laid out, bare and desperate in front of people. 

Do you want to present yourself? Yunho asks, and when Jongho chuffs, he laughs and kisses his cheek. Figured that'd be what you say, baby. 

The lack of assumptions are freeing. Jongho can't stop himself from making his pleasure known – sighing and warbling and moaning when anything feels good. And everything feels good. 

He's such a pretty singer, Wooyoung says, awed as he rubs Jongho's back. I haven't heard him purr so much in my life. 

Means we're doing well, Hongjoong responds. Then to Jongho – That's it maknae. There you go. Hands touch him everywhere – rubbing at his stomach, his back, swiping gently across his pulse. There you go – sink. You're safe. Fall into us. 

He starts whining, so comfortable that need is beginning to tug at his insides in a way that makes him feel frazzled and desperate. He needs them closer than this. Skin to skin is not enough. Seonghwa clicks his tongue disapprovingly, then butts at his shoulder with their head. We're gonna take care of you, baby. No need to beg. Teeth nip lightly at his collarbone, making his limbs loosen. 

He can hear Hongjoong murmuring orders. Get water. Give me that blanket. Touch his neck. Take off his socks. Settle him. His presence is distant enough to not be overwhelming, but present enough to not be worrying. 

“Alright,” Hongjoong says when all his instructions have been followed. “We're going to do this slowly. Gentle. Yunho?” 

Yunho, busy kissing Jongho's fingers, looks up. 

“Take care of our omega.” 

Yunho straightens, surprised. “But – but you're–”

Hongjoong tilts his head. “I'm what? Your head-alpha? Pack leader? What does that matter? Jongho feels safest with you. Always has. Right now, he matters. I don't need to prove my position. He's all our omega. Nothing changes that.” 

Slowly, Yunho smiles, astonished. Annoyed that attention isn't on him, Jongho curls his fingers in Yunho's loose grip, pulling incessantly. 

“I suggest you hurry,” Hongjoong laughs. “Our Jongho doesn't like to be kept waiting.” 

Yunho squeezes Jongho's hand, but leans close to Hongjoong, letting their foreheads bump in gratitude. Hongjoong's smile is sweet when he pulls away, and Yunho turns back to his omega, who's watching him through his lashes. 

“Baby,” Yunho says, leaning over Jongho. He slowly trails the hand not holding Jongho's to the mattress up his bare thigh. “Beautiful omega. So perfect for us.” Jongho preens, scent expanding in his pleasure. 

Yunho takes a deep inhale. “Fuck,” he groans, “you smell so good. So good, omega.” He leans down, nudging Jongho's nose to the side so he can bite at Jongho's skin. He's careful to avoid the mating gland, but Jongho won't stop moving, craving his neck in a way that puts the gland directly under Yunho's teeth. 

Yunho leans back so he can see Jongho's face. He ignores Jongho's half-growl, half-whine to ask, “omega – do – do you want me to mate you?” 

Jongho locks eyes with him for just one chest-heaving, heady moment, and Yunho has his answer. 

“Fuck,” Yunho breathes, gut tightening. “I can do that for you, baby. I can mate you.” 

Further confirmation, Jongho turns his head again, showing his gland, waiting in relative patience. Yunho doesn’t make him wait long. He dips his head down and opens his mouth. He’s slow; languidly licking over the spot, enjoying Jongho’s full-body shivers every time his tongue presses down. Yunho grazes it with his teeth and Jongho arches up, whining loud and long. 

“Pretty omega,” Yunho drools, burning with need. 

“Don’t make him wait longer,” Hongjoong says from behind him. “Don’t make us wait any longer.” It’s telling how in need of this claim Hongjoong is. He hardly thinks of himself when his pack is on the line. 

Yunho listens, kissing Jongho’s neck once, twice, before sinking his teeth in firmly and taking hold. Jongho seizes again, hips rotating, hands grasping the alphas on either side of him. The slight taste of blood enters Yunho’s mouth, and he releases his hold, pulling back to lick the wound over. Jongho is trembling, eyes rolled to the back of his head. Yunho almost asks if he did something wrong, but – 

“Good,” Seonghwa is back to petting Jongho’s hair. “All blissed out. Signs of a perfect mating bite. Good job, Yunho.” 

Yunho exhales, relieved. Hongjoong touches his back and kisses his neck from behind. “Perfect alpha. I knew it had to be you. Now – let’s finish up, shall we?” 

…

Jongho wakes up with a pleasant ache. 

All around him are the mingling smells of his pack, and when he opens his eyes, that’s exactly what he sees. Wooyoung is shirtless and laying in Yeosang’s lap, purring as he scratches his scalp, Mingi is tucked into Jongho’s left side, long arms winding around his waist like a comforting belt, San is lazily kissing Seonghwa, ears flushed pink in the way that means he’s getting warm, and Yunho and Hongjoong are talking quietly as Yunho absently traces shapes on Jongho’s outstretched forearm. 

“Alpha?” Jongho rasps. Both of their heads turn. They look at each other, and smile. Yunho ducks his head, and Hongjoong leans in. 

“What’s wrong, omega?” He asks. “Are you feeling alright? Does anything ache?” 

“Let me hold you,” Jongho says. Hongjoong’s eyebrows raise playfully. 

“Like we’re your pups?” 

Jongho rolls his eyes. He opens his arms, and as expected, Hongjoong shifts into them. Yunho snorts at the sight, until Jongho grasps for him too, tugging him close. Jongho purrs, finally perfectly content.