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“Seoul. The city of opportunities, of advance; the capital of globalization in Korea. A place where alphas, betas, and omegas are equal, breaking the chains of a past of casts and…”

Yoongi scoffs and walks away from the television store, tightening his scarf as to cover his ears and tune out the alpha voice currently booming out the infomercial on one of the televisions on display. Glancing around for any unwanted eyes, the pale wolf quickly adjusts the scent-blocking patch behind his ear and underneath the enormous scarf that covers almost all of his face.

“Equality my ass”, he grumbles under his breath, clutching the sheets of music tighter to his chest to avoid them being blown away by the cold wind. The Alphas walking past seem to be mocking him with their open collars, single jackets, and fucking high body temperatures those lucky motherfuckers. And now he feels a headache on the way.

Damn. As if today hasn't been shitty enough.

Yoongi knew when he woke up that it was going to be one of those days. As if the sudden temperature drop wasn't enough, one of the alphas in the room next to his had gone into rut this morning, thus waking Yoongi up to the unsavory scent of thick alpha pheromones seeping into every nook and crevice of the trainee dorm and threatening to reveal his omega status. While the betas had found the situation absolutely hilarious, the other alpha trainees had begun to unconsciously emit dominant scents, which only served to further the mirth in the beta trainees and to put Yoongi even more on edge.

Though his omega instincts had been screaming at him to either roll over and submit or to run and hide in a safe place far away from all other wolves, the prospect of getting found out was enough to drag him from underneath the warm covers of his lumpy bottom bunk mattress and grab a double dose of his suppressants from inside a tear in the mattress, swallowing them dry as to avoid any suspicious scent changes.

Water wasn't a necessity if it meant walking past the wolves he was sure were already up and about preparing their breakfasts in the dorm. Yoongi wasn't scared of getting raped or anything like that if he was discovered as an omega in disguise. No, that reality didn't belong here, although he was well acquainted to the areas of Seoul where all omegas were seen as was as a good fuck. No, here in the dorms Yoongi knew he was safe, at least physically, for now.

Yet the dark streets and the undergrounds of Korea had deeply engraved in Yoongi the lesson that omegas were never truly equals, not really, no matter how much the brighter side of society might attempt to sugar-coat this unfortunate fact. Therefore, the hidden bottle of white suppressant pills inside his mattress, the half-used package of scent-blocking patches disguised as toiletry, the document somewhere in between the trainee files with unpresented beside the name Yoongi instead of omega, the carefully built bravado of an untouchable fearless wolf. The same courage that had pushed him to escape from a house with no future and love, the same strength that had driven him to hide his nature and survive years in the streets working in the Seoul underground, the same hope that kept him moving every day even after twice going through the loss of what he'd once considered home, is what makes Yoongi unwrap his scarf, square his shoulders, and walk with a strong gait and a proud stance towards the looming building where a client is waiting for a song.

Yoongi swings open the main entrance glass door and climbs the stairs with the knowledge that this next sale is a tough one. He used to sell his songs to better clientele: artists that actually paid what his work was worth. Though those had been during the better days back in Daegu( if any Daegu day could be classified as good), when he'd still been a starry-eyed unpresented Neutral, whose biggest worry was coming up with a new lie to explain to his parents the sudden heaviness of his “piggy bank” (more like an old shoe box under his mattress where he kept his birthday money, allowance savings, and later, his earnings from selling songs).

Now Yoongi is thankful for whatever it was, be it instinct or just a very fortunate premonition, that kept him from wasting his money on toys and candies like his siblings and other kids his age, but instead hid it all in an old shoe box. “Hid”, though he was always perfectly aware that his mother had a habit of counting his money, as if to make sure there wasn't more cash with mysterious origins. Thus Yoongi’s fictionals stories of “oh i found it on the street”, “I mowed that old lady's lawn. She's very generous”. Because his family had rules. And those rules meant no wasting time in frivolous activities such as music, or composing, or art in any way that wasn't the strict piano classes so their children could entertain guests during social events.

Business, though. That's what Yoongi had refused to resign his future to. A law hammered into him since a young age. His hyung would be a doctor, to keep up the family clinic. Yoongi would study business, to administer the clinic and take care of the dryer aspects of paperwork and be his brother's right-hand man. Or at least he would've. Because life had a way of screwing things up. There had never been a doubt in his family's mind that Yoongi would be an alpha like his brother and parents, or at least a beta. There hadn't been an omega in generations. Ironically, in a small, old, traditional city like the one where the he'd lived, this specific genetic quirk had placed the Min family in the most highly respected place. It was an honor to marry into the Min family. They were considered the strongest, a pure alpha-beta bloodline.

Until Yoongi presented at the age of fifteen. It had been an agonizing week of presentation, spent locked in his room, only receiving the minimum necessary of water and rice to survive, the only memory in his hazy, pain-addled brain being his father entering the room. Then the beating had begun. There had been blood and white-blinding agony and the repetitive furious, crazed screams of you are not my son. Once his hormones had stabilized he'd been thrown out in the middle.of the night, a dirty disgusting ugly secret, because weak omegas had no place in the Min family, an omega would only destroy his family’s reputation and take away the high position in the community that they'd held for generations.

He was lucky they hadn't killed him, or worse, surgically removed his scent gland, a final attempt of ridding him of his true wolf nature.

Yoongi had been left with nothing besides the dirty week-old clothes on his body, bruises and a split lip and bleeding wounds (a final farewell from his parents), and the old shoe box filled with his savings a s final gesture from his hyung. Of what, he wasn't sure. But it was that cash that bought his one-way ticket to Seoul, keeping him alive until he was able to find new buyers for his songs(the old ones, back in Daegu, refused to do business with an omega). He'd never contacted his family again.

Nearly two years later, already steady on suppressants, Yoongi had heard some news from a few visiting Daegu rappers. The alcohol that always followed an underground battle served to loosen tongues and break any reservations, making it easy for Yoongi to eavesdrop into their conversation, whose main topic was the “hottest news from Daegu”. An old respected family, whose youngest son had drowned. His body was never found(scoff). But the eldest was now a doctor and the youngest had been replaced by a young alpha girl. A cousin, orphaned and now adopted by her generous Uncle and Aunt, a fitting candidate to carry the respected name and strong blood. She was reported to be an intelligent, charming creature, already promising great things in the name of the Min family. The pride of her adopted parents. Apparently she was currently being trained for a position alongside her adopted brother, and consequently her hand was considered the most fought after of all the eligible Daegu wolves. Perfect, that's what she was.

That night, in between adjusting the cables and equipment from the show and settling down to sleep in the storage closet(a good arrangement, all things considered. In exchange for 55% of the money he made from tonight's show, he'd get a cozy warm spot to shelter him from the unforgiving winter night - with even a blanket thrown in the deal), Yoongi made a decision. He was now permanently closing and sealing the door of his past. He was going to make it big and show the world, show everybody, what Min Yoongi was capable of. No more pathetic wishes unrealistic dreams of ever returning to a family that saw no use in him, that easily forgot him in lieu of a better option. He’d only been focusing on surviving, but no more. No, now he was going to give his dreams his all, no matter how much he'd need to grit his teeth and sacrifice himself in the process.

That was also the night he'd found a crumpled piece of paper in the closet of the bar, probably thrown there as an afterthought. But that discarded trash, announcing the auditions for new trainees at Bighit Entertainment, was the perfect beginning for this new chapter of Yoongi's life.

It is also partly responsible for why Yoongi is now meeting with his client at ass o’clock in the morning instead of at a more convenient time. Because now he’s a trainee with a fucking schedule, that's why. And why the motherfucking hell have these shits not fixed the heating system yet. Or was there ever a heating system to begin with in the other times he'd come? He can't recall. But fuck, it's cold in here.

The corridor leading to Red Entertainment office is as Yoongi remembers, decorated with tacky paintings as cheap as the company itself. Red Entertainment is known to be finicky, though the beta that usually manns the sales has seemed to build a soft spot for Yoongi. She tends to cut him some slack, trying to agree on a reasonable price, most of the time, and actually treating him fairly decently. Unfortunately, his knock on the old wooden office door isn't responded by the raspy feminine voice he's grown accustomed to. Instead, Yoongi is greeted with a gruff, rather rude response of “Who is it and whaddya want?”

“Min Yoongi, I'm here for a song I was asked bring in today…” his wary answer is cut off as the door is suddenly flung open, revealing a tall man (okay, definitely not the usual beta lady) with slicked hair and a perfectly pressed suit. The man seems to tower over him, not even trying to hide his leer as he scans Yoongi from head to toe. Shit, he looks like an asshole.

“Fine,” the man gestures violently, grabbing Yoongi by the shoulder and shoving him inside before quickly shutting the door. Yoongi tenses and flinches almost imperceptibly at the rough treatment. “Sit, ” he barks, before rounding the desk to what is apparently his office seat, a big, quite honestly hideous red cushioned chair that clashes way too much with the simple metal desk and old plastic bench, where Yoongi is apparently to sit.


“No, sorry. I don't smoke.”

The man gives him a scornful look at the reply, before opening a desk drawer to rifle through it in search of a lighter. The cloying smell of cigarettes emanating from the stranger is underlined by an almost hidden smell of rusted iron. Yoongi does a double-take. His suspicion is proven correct. The man's scent classifies him as a beta, not an alpha, as Yoongi had feared. An angry curse pulls Yoongi from his thoughts. Apparently the missing lighter is not in the drawer, because the beta grunts and opens another drawer, annoyed. From there he pulls out an old box of matches to light the cigarette in between his teeth. While the beta focuses on lighting the match, Yoongi takes the opportunity to calm himself, his face impassive by the time the man finally takes his first deep drag of the drug.

“Alright”, the red chair creaks under the sudden movement as the man at last gives Yoongi his attention, “Well, how rude of me. My name is Son Joosan. You're not bothered by the wait, are you?”


“Well good. Now let's see that song you've got for me.”

Yoongi hides his annoyance and carefully removes the music sheets from his folder, handing them to the outstretched hand. The crackling of the pages a sharp contrast to the tense silence the takes over the cold room. Finally, after what seems like years but must have been no more than a minute or so, Son Joosan uncaringly drops the music papers on the desk and leans forward, intertwining his fingers on the cold metal surface. He makes a vague gesture in the general direction of Yoongi and the music sheets.

“Okey dokey, all here boy. Now, let's really talk business. I would offer you the same as I heard you've been receiving from us but-” Yoongi swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. “-but unfortunately that price was an error from the beginning. The last representative has been way too lenient and generous with a rookie like you. You want to do business with us, you give us the songs for half the price. No more.”

Anger flares inside of Yoongi. He knows that if he weren't on suppressants, his scent would probably become sour, matching his frustration. How dare they try to play him like this. He turns to the beta, refusing to be intimidated by his derisive stare. “Excuse me, Joosan-ssi, but that’s not the agreement. I specifically called earlier this week to make sure the price for my songs was unchanged. Keep the same price as always, or no deal. It's only fair.”

At this the dealer scoffs, outright laughing in Yoongi's face, his contempt evident. Joosan blows his cigar smoke at Yoongi, leering and licking his lips before calmly rising from his seat and coming around to stand behind the terrified Omega.

Yoongi smells the stench of the man's scent before he feels an arm heavily drape itself across his shoulder as the beta leans in to chuckle darkly in the omega's ear. Yoongi gulps, his throat dry. Fuck, I can't show fear, don't move, don't move, he's going to smell me, oh fuck, be strong, be strong, be-

“Y’know”, Joosan drawls, his scent becoming angry, more dominant. “If I didn't know better I would swear you're an omega-” he flicks the cigar and the dark ashes fall on Yoongi's thigh, “-so when I see a pathetic little thing like you trying to act all high and mighty, well… that's just not right, hm?” He leans in more, closer to Yoongi's scent gland, and-

Too close, too fucking close, shit!

Yoongi leaps up from the chair, swirling to give the man the coldest glare he can muster. Knees weak, Yoongi forces himself to stand strong and bare his teeth, a sign that he will not be stepped over. His pheromones, though, are not as obedient, making his fear transparent to the leering beta.

“I have a set price, Joosan-ssi, an-” “Shut up, twink,” roars the beta, lunging forward and grabbing the younger’s wrist. Yoongi wrenches his arm from the hold and stumbles back, grabbing onto the edge of the table behind him to steady himself. “Oh look at me I'm so amazing. Buy my songs, I'm such a good boy,” mocks the beta, arrogance emanating from him in waves. “Well you know what, in this industry, people like you should lower your heads in submission. Or.better yet, spread those pretty little legs. Maybe then you'll be able to earn some favors. That's all you're good for after all, a little bitch that thinks he's worth something. Be thankful I'm offering any money at all for your shitty songs, twink.”

No, no he's wrong he's wrong he's wrong shut up get out need to get away oh please-

Yoongi's hand shake as he reaches out and takes the music sheets that were left haphazardly on top of the desk. He shoves them into his pocket, not minding if they crumple in his panic to leave. “I have to go, excuse me.” Joosan blocks his escape.

“Awh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean any of it I was just trying to make you understand me, you know?” The sudden change almost gives Yoongi whiplash, because what. “Listen, you know how things are,” the older continues, in a disgustingly honeyed voice. “Guess I've been spending too long around alpha assholes, you know how they are hm?” A step towards Yoongi. “So, we good then?”

“E-excuse me, I… yes, yes, ok. I have to go now, I-” Yoongi is frustrated. Goddamnit he's messing with you, don't fall for his trap, just leave.

The man looks peeved at the younger's half hearted response. “Now there, calm down, we've just sorted our differences out. Now if you would stop being so stubborn, maybe you would accept our price and leave with some cash, hey?” Yoongi swallows his whimper. Will the man not give up, shit. He braces himself, muscles taut, and quickly swerves around the beta and towards the door, the papers gripped tightly in his hand.

“I'm afraid I can't change my price, Joosan-ssi. Have a good day.” Before the to-be-buyer can react, Yoongi quickly closes the door and rushes to the exit. “If you don't get back here right fucking now you can forget any business with us ever!” comes the muffled roar from the office. The omega grits his teeth but doesn't falter as he steps outside of the building and into the crowded street.

He knows he just lost a client. But fuck it, I would've lost respect, my music isn't shit to be treated like that, fuck! I don't give a shit, I don't give a shit, I dont give a shit-

Yoongi concentrates on the mantra as the adrenaline propels him down the street as if chased by an invisible foe. That was his last source of income. No more money, no more food for at least the next two days until he figures something out. He didn't give in though. He was strong and didn't take any bullshit. Strength won't get me a bus ticket though. Or for food…

A few meters away are a small chain of family food stands. The tteokbokki shop's delicious spicy aroma is torture. He'll have to go hungry. Well, guess at least it'll be good for losing weight…




Almost an hour later Yoongi arrives back at the trainee dorm. He's so tired, but Bang pd-nim just called a meeting so there's only time to grab a cup of that morning's coffee and rush to the training room.

“Good evening, boys,” says Bang Sihyuk with a kind smile once all the trainees are present. Besides the 23 people Yoongi already knows stands someone else, taller than him and slightly familiar. “You may have already heard of Kim Namjoon. He's been a part of this company for a while, and now he'll be joining your ranks in the dorm. Namjoon-ah…”

The new boy steps forward, low velvety voice echoing across the room. “Hello my name is Kim Namjoon, rapper, I' joining you from now on. Please take care of me,” he says, bowing in greeting. Namjoon, though taller than Yoongi by a good head or so, seems to be younger than him. Under his shirt and basketball shorts(how is this kid not cold) there seems to be a never-ending spanse of tan skin and lean muscles on long gangly limbs. Namjoon raises his head and catches Yoongi staring, his own gaze lingering for a moment longer before turning to exchange the common pleasantries with his new dorm-mates.

“Hey, a new dongsaeng!”

“So, how long have you been rapping?”

“Great, one more person to share a bathroom with.”

“It’s fine as long as he doesn't take a lifetime in one shower like some people I know.”

“I have a very specific care routine! I need to take that long!”

“Chill, you guys. Besides, it's not like the new kid looks like he actually showers much.”

“Oh, come on Heejun, don't bully the kid already.”

“Donghyuk-hyung, which room is he gonna get?”

“Let me think… there’s the mattress that used to be Youngmin’s, right? Yoongi, is that mattress still available? Yoongi!”

Yoongi jumps at the sudden shake to his shoulder. He glances up and meets Donghyuk’s amused gaze. The alpha lets him go but continues to stare expectantly. “Yoongi?” “Yeah, yeah, uh- yes hyung, it's free. He can use it, I guess.” Yoongi coughs as to camouflage his embarrassment at getting caught distracted. The exchange seems to have caught Namjoon’s interest- a Neutral, by his scent; Yoongi distantly wonders what will the boy present into- for the young wolf approaches Yoongi with a shy quirk of his lips.

“I guess I'll be in your room, um, Yoongi…?”

“It's Yoongi-hyung to you, brat,” comes the shorter’s automatic response, eliciting a full smile from the younger. Namjoon feels strangely content at the thought of sharing the same room as this grumpy, pale hyung. He'd been dreading moving into the trainee dorm, though now he guesses there are some perks. Namely in the form of a one Min Yoongi and his ever-present glare, which the young Neutral soon comes to learn is no more dangerous than a puppy. Unless if woken up, a lesson earned when Namjoon accidentally interrupted one of Yoongi's power naps by crashing a lamp after tripping over a loose wire. For this untimely interruption the unfortunate klutz had been rewarded with a whack upside the head and a few choice words from his hyung’s extensive collection of colorful vocabulary. Who would've thought that the Korean language was even capable of so many different, um… imaginative expressions.

Other times though, Namjoon would silently and gently pick Yoongi up from where he'd found him curled in a tight ball and fast asleep in the training room, long after everyone else had gone to bed. The elder would be loosely clutching an old notebook, frayed at the edges from so much use.

Must be his lyrics book.

Still with his sleeping hyung held tightly in his arms and the notebook tucked in his pocket, Namjoon would walk the block to the dorms and carefully lay Yoongi in bed, careful not to jostle him from his well-earned sleep. Sometimes he would still stay awake for some time, easily distracted by his tiny hyung's peaceful sleeping face. Namjoon's mattress tucked into the side of Yoongi's bed gave him the perfect position to fondly observe every detail of the elder. From his fluffy black hair in disarray to the slight spattering of freckles on his button nose, to his pouty lips, cracked and dry from hours of practicing diction, rhythm, speed and beat without rest. Debut is an impossible dream without a good level of dedication.

The first time Yoongi calls him something that isn't Namjoon(or a curse, though those really don't count at all), is another night in which Namjoon found Yoongi passed out, this time in an extremely uncomfortable position over the rusty kitchen table. After tucking his hyung into bed(which lately he'd been doing more often that not. Not that he minded the new habit at all) he plopped spread-eagle on his own mattress and let sleep weight him down. Until sometime during the night Namjoon the woken up by a small body landing with a dull thump on his mattress from where it’d rolled over.

“Hm-” mumbles a sleepy Yoongi, crawling under the duvet to cuddle into the younger's side, “-warm, Joonie. Feels nice…” His words dying into a soft sight as he falls back asleep, content in the younger's embrace.

Chest almost physically aching with unbearable fondness and maybe something stronger, deeper(he's too tired to try to ponder on the familiar tingly sensation, though), the young rapper gently wraps his arms around his hyung's waist and pulls him closer till he's tucked into the younger's firm chest, soft breath warming skin. Namjoon falls back asleep with his nose buried in Yoongi's soft fluff of hair and the almost imperceptible sweet scent of mint chocolate lulling him to the deepest rest he's had in months.

The bright rays of morning sunshine arrive to reveal an extremely disgruntled Yoongi sharply elbowing Namjoon in the stomach from where the younger is spooning him from behind. “What the actual fuck, Joon, shut up, you snore too fucking loud,” he complains, shoving the younger off him to trudge to the kitchen and prepare a batch of the 'nectar of the gods’: coffee. Two and a half cups of the dark bitter liquid later, Namjoon almost breaks yet another coffee cup as he is frozen with the realization of what had happened. His hyung cuddled. And called him Joon, Joonie. He feels almost giddy. An unsurprisingly grumpy Yoongi spends the rest of the day trying to wipe the(stupid) smile off Namjoon's face.

He's not successful.

The old lumpy mattress soon becomes used to holding not one, but two bodies during the night. The younger rapper is happy. He feels like he's finally doing something right with his life in those wee hours in which he can hold his hyung's trust in such a delicate way. It feels like a first step to something better than he could ever wish for.

To Namjoon, an only child with loving parents who, besides their slight disappointment at their son's choice career, give him their full support even from another city, the idea abandonment was a foreign and unpresent concept. The young rapper had received love. Apparently, Yoongi had not, as Namjoon found out during a night spent sharing a smuggled bottle of soju(courtesy of Donghyuk-hyung, who declared “all the boys need to de-stress for at least a night”) following a particularly trying monthly review, in which six trainees had left. Sitting on the kitchen floor with only an empty soju bottle between them(the other trainees were crowding up the living room. Too much noise, which was why both boys had preferred the peace and quiet of an empty kitchen), Yoongi proves to hold his alcohol surprisingly well. Which serves to surprise a slightly dizzy Namjoon even more when his hyung leans over and nuzzles the younger's shoulder. “You know-” “Hm,” hums Namjoon in response, gently carding his fingers through the other's hair where his head is now a welcome weight on the taller rapper's shoulder. “-you're the closest thing I have to a family.” The heart wrenching confession breathed in a warm sigh against Namjoon's skin makes him falter for a moment in his ministration. “Okay,” he whispers, gently resuming the caress till his hyung's soft even breaths reveal that the elder has fallen asleep. If that night Namjoon places a soft kiss to Yoongi's crown before tucking the other in bed, well… he guesses he has the alcohol to blame.

Namjoon doesn't know where this overwhelming need to take care of someone who can obviously hold his own comes from. He honestly doesn't care. What Namjoon cares is that Yoongi is a tiny giant who can freeze you with his glare and spit fire and death threats on a daily basis, a hyung who doesn't take any bullshit, who is respected and slightly feared and who invests more hours into training than anybody else, yet still has a heart softer than a marshmallow. One simply has to work past his rough exterior to truly see the person underneath.

Bang Sihyuk, Namjoon soon learns, is one of the few men who sees Yoongi's full potential and is willing to invest in him. Is willing to invest in all of them, for that matter, as long as they repay with their best. “Namjoon,” says the CEO, sitting down with the young rapper in the main office, “I've decided to invest in extensive training for you, Donghyunk, Ikje, Yoongi, and a few of the other boys. You will lose any slack you might have had left, and unfortunately your schedules will be the tightest they have ever been. Which means full-time dedication to training, only taking time off for sleep and school, of course. This also means that you will be moving into a separate dorm closer to the company.” The man leans back slightly and folds his hands over his rounded belly. The pd’s natural beta scent, somehow reminding Namjoon of his father's favorite cologne, is as warm and strong as his personality. “Of course I've already contacted almost all of your parents, and they've agreed, including yours.”

Namjoon sits up straighter, taking a moment of silence to absorb all the new information. It's an important turn of events, he knows. Yet through it all the words almost all of your parents plays in repeat like a broken radio. Namjoon has a hunch, no, he's sure, that the exception in that sentence was referring to Yoongi. That impulsive confession of so many nights ago seemed to become so much clearer. Yoongi's alone. No… he has me.

“Son, I know such commitment cannot be taken lightly, which is why I've been calling all of you individually. I don't want a trainee who is forced into a life he does not willingly choose. That makes you lose drive and passion. So tell me, Namjoon, do you accept being part of the intensive training group?” finishes Bang-pd-nim. Namjoon looks up to the searching stare of the older man. The wise beta must see something in Namjoon's hesitant expression, for he quirks an eyebrow and gives a low chuckle. “Also,” he says, observing the young trainee closely for any visible reaction, “Yoongi has already accepted.”

Namjoon's shoulders go slack and his whole posture seems to relax from how taut it had been before. “Bang-pd-nim,” he clears his throat to disguise the obvious relief in his shaky voice, “I accept. I mean… uh, this will definitely help me to reach my goal, so… yes, yes, thank you for the opportunity.”

“Good,” beams the older man, “I'm glad to see Yoongi was right after all.”

“E- excuse me?”

“Well, dear Namjoon-ssi, that is exactly what Yoongi said you would say when he accepted.”




Yoongi knew something was up from the moment he woke up. His head hurts, his joints ache like shit, he feels even less hungry than usual, almost to the point of throwing up just at the smell of the breakfast kimchi rice.
Warming up in the training room is a feat in and of itself, the bright lights and loud voices not helping at all Yoongi's growing pain. He can't be sick, he hasn't been sick since he was what, seven? Oh god, he can't get sick now of all times. What if they cut him from the program, then he'll never reach his dream, and Namjoon, fuck, he'll never see Joonie again, fuck, fuck-

“Yoongi-hyung, are you alright?”

Namjoon's concerned tone is enough to snap Yoongi out of his stupor. “Yeah Joonie, I'm fine, I'm fine.” He is not fine. He unconsciously moves closer to the younger. The moment their hands touch Yoongi falls into a relieved haze, the skin-on-skin contact a welcome balm.
Meanwhile, the other trainees are growing increasingly more restless, sniffing the air and trying to find the origin of the thick heady chocolaty scent that has suddenly seemed to inundate the room. Ikje and a few other alphas are already beginning to emit dominant pheromones, as if marking territory.

That is when it finally dawns on Namjoon what the uneasy feeling he wasn't able to shake off is. His arms come around to support his quickly deteriorating hyung, an attempt to shield him from the other wolves in the room. Yoongi is in heat. YOONGI IS IN HEAT. In a room full of wolves. An omega in heat.


From then Namjoon's brain goes into overdrive, screaming protect protect protect. Allowing himself to rely on instinct, the young wolf drapes his coat over his hyung before quickly picking Yoongi up bridal-style and all but sprinting to the dorms. He's eternally grateful that their new housing is less than a minute’s walk from the company.

Yoongi squirms unhappily when he's lain in the soft sheets of the bed. He whines and stretches out his arms, looking for the nice warm body that was holding him just a second ago. 

The delicious scent of an omega in heat strengthens tenfold, but Namjoon knows better. This is his hyung.

“Joonie,” moans Yoongi, his voice breaking into a sob, “ Joonie where are you? Come back Joonie, it hurts.” He flinches as the cool feel of a wet towel makes contact with his feverish sweaty brow. “Shhh, Hyung, it's okay, I'm here. I just went to get a towel and some water. God, you're burning.” 

The omega forces his heavy eyelids open and relishes in the familiar view of tanned skin and gentle eyes and safety. “Hyung, you're soaked in sweat. I need to change your shirt or you'll get sick. May I Yoongi-hyung?” A nod and Yoongi lift his arms weakly. Namjoon eases the omega out of his sweat-soaked shirt, drying his back and chest before changing him into a soft oversized shirt, one that Yoongi distantly recognizes as belonging to Namjoon. How nice.

His relief is short-lived when he feels a rush of something warm and wet trickle down his hole and soak his backside. Slick. Yoongi doesn't realize he's crying until he's being scooped up into a warm lap and held tightly in a comforting embrace. “It's okay hyung-” hiccups and a whispered sob. “No no no don't call me that, just, just-” The rapper curles in on himself, tucking his head under his dongsaeng's chin and desperately clutching his neck. For once Yoongi relishes in feeling small. “Alright, don't cry, don't cry Yoongi,” whispers Namjoon, wiping away the smaller’s tears with careful hands. He ignores the growing stain in his thigh from the slick and instead focuses on whispering words of comfort and gently rocking the sobbing omega in his arms. 

Namjoon knows he should be freaking out. His hyung is an omega, has been for quite some time if having his heat now is any indication. And he'd somehow managed to hide this from Namjoon. Namjoon doesn't care if his hyung is an omega. Yoongi could be a beta or alpha and he would still be Yoongi. But to know that the elder didn't trust him enough to reveal this important piece of information, well, that hurts. Which is why Namjoon is even more thankful that the instincts he didn't know he had that drive him to focus on Yoongi's comfort aren't allowing him to wallow in self-pity.

A loud moan alerts Namjoon to the new situation at hand. Yoongi is whimpering and moaning now, slowly humping Namjoon's thigh from where he's perched on the younger's lap. The omega is hard, a wet patch beginning to form in the front of his pants from the precum. “Joonie, please, I, I need, please it hurts!” Yoongi sobs into the crook of the younger's neck. He's never felt so empty, so completely unsatisfied. His wolf begs for something, anything to relieve him, to take the pain away.

The small wolf wails when he feels the warm arms unwrap themselves from his lithe frame. No, he hates me now, I'm disgusting, don't go, nonoplease- Yoongi's body makes contact with the soft surface of the sheets as he's quickly pulled into a tight embrace before, effectively ending the short-lived panic attack. “I'm not leaving Yoongi, I'm right here. I've got you,” Namjoon whispers, allowing his hyung to clutch him tightly, nails scraping any bare skin in its wake and leaving red, angry marks as the trembling omega ruts against his leg. He can feel his hyung's cock twitching from where it's rubbing against his thigh. His tiny hyung looks so good like this, face flushed and chest red with exertion, his lips swollen and red from biting them in a futile attempt to hold in any noises. Yoongi's eyes are blown and hazy, sweat plastering his hair against his forehead and lips opening allowing high pitched moans and keens and sobs of pleasure to leak out. 

The intoxicating scent of sweet minty chocolate settles over the dorm like a heavy fog. Namjoon nuzzles into the soft patch of skin where Yoongi's scent gland is behind his ear. He smells amazing, even to an unpresented wolf like Namjoon. Yoongi keens and arches his back at the unexpected action, seeking friction, any friction. Namjoon's shirt is definitely ruined now from all the tears, saliva, cum and slick. But he doesn't care. All he cares about is the boy now clutching his chest like a lifeline, shaking as he approaches his release and his movements become more sloppy.

"Baby," the term causes an unexpected reaction, as Yoongi moans even louder and lifts his head to look at Namjoon. "A-Again.."

"Baby, you're doing so well. Such a good boy. The best baby boy," the words are whispered in a deep voice Namjoon didn't know he had. It was instinct. Rubbing soothing circles in the small of the Omega's back was instinct. Everything was instinct, which must mean something.

As an unpresented Neutral, Namjoon doesn't know where these care instincts are coming from, but he's not complaining. After all, he doesn't have a scent to comfort Yoongi, one of the most common pain-relievers for an omega in heat: familiar safe scents. But he can offer cuddles, and sweet words, and make sure his hyung is kept dry and clean and warm and comfortable and safe and with enough food and drinks till the heat burns out. That should be enough for now.

Yoongi jerks almost violently in the younger's arms when he comes, before slumping forward in exhaustion. “Sleep,” croons Namjoon, already reaching for a clean pair of pajamas for his hyung, “I'll be here when you wake up.”

Before sleep carries him away, Yoongi musters enough strengh in his post-orgasm bliss to open his eyes and give Namjoon a thankful smile. The younger's heart stutters in his chest for a moment when met with deep purple orbs. An omega's purple eyes have never seemed so breathtaking.


When the heat finally lifts, six days have already passed, and Namjoon and Yoongi have new problems to deal with before they can sit to talk about what happened.

“Yoongi, we have to report to Bang-pd-nim in twenty minutes!”

“Yoongi-hyung, Joonie.”

“Oh, right. Yoongi-hyung, we have to report in nineteen minutes.”

Unknown to both wolves, Donghyuk had also realized the situation in the training room. Thankfully, he'd been loyal enough to discreetly explain the situation to Bang-pd-nim and to come up with an excuse to keep the other trainees away from the new dorm when Namjoon and Yoongi had been too preoccupied to do so.

Yoongi's decision to publicly come out as an omega(I would have to eventually, Joonie. I couldn't be a Neutral.forever) had surprising results. Though there was always the occasional asshole who behaved like a dick towards anything omega, most people continued to treat Yoongi as they always had. If anything, with even more respect, since surviving the feral competition of the trainee world as an omega was apparently an admirable feat(Namjoon though that point of view was still biased, but respect was better than disrespect in the end.)

When a few days later Namjoon held an upset Yoongi and questioned him, he was able to answer with conviction that no, he didn't find Yoongi gross or slutty for anything that happened during the heat. Most of all, the elder's secondary gender wouldn't change his position of authority and respect. For now, it's enough.

Yoongi is still the rude grumpy ass he's always been(for that particular comment he earns a sharp slap to the arm), and nothing will ever change that. They end up having an all-nighter spent sharing life stories and dreams and simply talking. When dawn finally comes Yoongi places a chaste kiss to a blushing Namjoon's lips, the beginning of a promise.

“We'll start our own pack, Joonie, no matter what you present as.”

“I'll look forward to that.”



“What is it?”

“I wish I could present as a Ryan Bear.”

“Shut up and go to sleep already, brat.”




Namjoon is feeling the most excited he has in weeks. Oh Seungho, a famous alpha rapper sunbaenim is in the training room wrapping up his class. Bang-pd-nim had been able to perform a miracle and bring such a highly respected sunbae to spend over ten hours giving personalized lessons and tips to the boys in the intensive training unit. Even Yoongi seems more awake than usual, the omega keeping his eye fixed on every movement of the experienced rapper as he explains proper diction when speed-rapping and the complicated nuances of proper pronunciation of the Korean language without missing a beat. The sweet scent of mint-chocolate, now no longer hidden by mountains of suppressants and blocking patches, even seems sharper and more defined than on other days, as if even Yoongi's pheromones were showing his alertness.

Seungho-sunbaenim sings praises to Yoongi, Namjoon, and Donghyuk alike after they stand out from the other trainees during the freeform rap battle. To top it all off, each boy receives a cup of warm coffee ordered from the fancy shop down the street, a present to “keep them awake and energetic and vocal chords warm.”

“You have promise and outstanding potential. Continue like this and your talent will get you to high places, I assure you,” the tall rapper-sunbae says, handing Donghyuk, Namjoon, and Yoongi their respective cups of coffee. Donghyuk-hyung is trying not to smile too hard but is failing miserably. He keeps tugging on Yoongi and Namjoon's shirts and ruffling their hair as if to wordlessly say “see, see, we can do it you guys, we can definitely reach our goals!” His enthusiasm is contagious to the point that even Yoongi is sporting a hint of a smile, his eyes sparkling with hope and strength. Namjoon leans in just a bit to bump their shoulders together. See, we're not bad at all, hyung. - I know Joon, I know.

Namjoon picks up his bag and is about to head out the door with the other trainees. Donghyuk-hyung’s voice stops him though.

“Yoongi, aren't you coming?”

“Oh, you and Namjoon go ahead, Seungho-sunbaenim wants to go over a few tips to improve my freeform flow. I'll meet up with you guys at the dorm,” he turns Namjoon with a smirk. “And Joon, if you forget again to buy ramen on the way there, I can promise you that your fucking precious Ryan plushy will never see the light of day in one piece.” Namjoon makes a face, his protests hardly audible over Donghyuk’s gleeful cackles as he's shoved out the door by his hyung. Damn, his Ryan plushy was a secret!

Yoongi gives one last cheeky chuckle before turning to the older alpha rapper. He feels light and happy with life in a floaty kind of way. “So, sunbaenim, what did you want to go over, exactly.” “I was actually thinking we should discuss this in another room, you know, after so many hours in here, this place stinks of sweat and wolves.” Yoongi nods in agreement and takes another sip of his coffee. Huh, that fancy shop apparently isn't as good as it seems, since it's coffee tastes a bit weird and sourish. “Sure, sunbaenim,” he says, and follows the broader older wolf to the new training room of choice.

It isn't after he hears the telltale sound of a door locking behind him that Yoongi realizes why the coffee was so sour. He can't feel his legs.




“You know, if you forgot your wallet I can just pay for you this once. You can pay me back later.”

“Thanks hyung, but Yoongi-hyung will never left me forget if he finds out. Seriously. He's terrifying when he wants to be.”

Donghyuk laughs(the nerve) and pats Namjoon on the back. “Alright, wouldn't want your beloved plushie to be in danger, would we?” “Hyuuuung, seriously!” “Go on, Namjoon my chap, run on!” he chortles, shoving the younger back in the direction they'd come from. Namjoon sneaks one last glare before sprinting back to the company building, taking the stairs two at a time in his rush to retrieve the forgotten wallet.

Inside the training room Namjoon doesn't find neither his hyung nor the alpha-sunbae. His wallet is exactly where he'd left it, in the corner of the room on top of the speakers. He picks up the forgotten item and tucks it in his jacket pocket, taking a moment to appreciate him omega hyung's scent that still lingers in the air. Really, and to think that for years Yoongi had been suppressing his scent… what a tragedy. It's always been surprisingly easy, almost natural, for Namjoon to pick it out from other scents, that sweet minty-chocolate blessing. Namjoon takes another deep breath… and almost falls flat at the sudden shock that courses through his veins.

Nonononono, there's something wrong with Yoongi's scent, there's something wrong and sour and it screams DANGER and where is Yoongi I have to find him now.

The next minute is a blind frenzy, spent running from door to door, throwing it open and quickly moving on, searching, searching. He's about to throw all decorum to the air and run down the halls screaming Yoongi's name when he hears a sound that rushes fire through his system. A muffled sob, a plead, the sharp sound of skin hitting on skin and an angry growl. Oh god, YOONGI.

He's down the hall in a millisecond, pounding on the door in a frenzied fury. “OPEN THE DOOR RIGHT FUCKING NOW!” When the answer doesn't come fast enough Namjoon kicks open the door, breaking the hinges with a strength he never knew he had.

The sight he's met with makes him see red. Homicide has never seemed so sweet.

Yoongi is sobbing on the floor, a bruise blooming on his otherwise pale cheek from where he'd been slapped. He's half naked, his shirt lying in tatters on the floor and his pants already halfway down his thighs. “J-Joon,Namjoon, J-Joo-Joonie, Joonie”, he wails, sobbing desperately and weakly curling up, as if trying to make himself seem as small as possible. Over Yoongi, with one hand frozen in the act of pulling down the omega's underwear and another gripping him by the hair, the scent of his arousal contrasting with the omega's distressed one, is Oh Seungho.

Oh Seungho, who had made Yoongi so happy earlier. Oh Seungho, who arrived in all his rapper alpha glory.
Oh Seungho, who is sporting an angry expression and has red leaking into his eyes, his pants already unbuttoned.
Oh Seungho, who'd been about to rape Yoongi.

After that Namjoon only sees red.




When Namjoon was seven, he'd witnessed a bar fight when walking past a more dangerous part of the city with his parents. The drunkards involved had been acting completely wild in their lust for violence. There had been punches and kicking and someone broke a bottle of soju over someone else's head before the police had finally arrived. At the time, little Namjoon, who had already demonstrated an affinity for schoolwork and was currently interested in a book on secondary genders four years ahead of his grade, had tightly gripped his Appa and Eomma’s hands and wondered if that was what an alpha rage was like. He decided that that must be it. It couldn't get any worse than that, right?

Seven-year old Namjoon was a damn fool.

Namjoon could feel pain, like his skin was being ripped off and his muscles torn apart one by one. It’s agonizing, yet it's nothing compared to the anger. The anger that at first only let Namjoon see Oh Seungho and blood, blood, blood. Then he sees nothing at all.

Namjoon can hear screaming. He recognizes the voice. It's his own. He rages through the room like a hurricane, destroying everything in its path, his initial goal forgotten. He can taste the sharp tang blood in his mouth but isn't able to tell if it's his own or Seungho’s. Broken glass, ripped clothes, tears, blood, maim, kill, destroy, angerangerangerangeranger.

Namjoon's not sure how much time passes. He's pretty sure at some moment he shifts, shredding the walls and destroying equipment and howling and angry. He's no longer human, he feels feral, a beast, blind in it's blood lust. The screaming and the anger and the pain rises and rises and rises and he doesn't know his name or what he is all he knows is blinding white and he needs to kill or die and-

-then it all stops.

When Namjoon finally comes to, he's lying on the floor naked, surrounded by shards of glass and flecks of somebody's blood and the wrecks of what was once a practice room. He feels alive, new scents inundating his system and all his senses are fully awake. He's an alpha.

The joy of it all is short-lived when he finally remembers what caused the presentation in the first place. Oh, no.


Wrenching open the door(it's just barely in one piece), Namjoon almost trips over a bundle of clothes on the floor, topped with a handwritten note.

Yoongi's alright, he's at the National Hospital in xxxxx street. Here's some money for a taxi and some clothes so you don't go running around buck-ass naked, you brat. Or should I say, alpha :)
Good luck Namjoonah --- your favorite hyung, Donghyuk <3


Yoongi wakes up to the beeping of a machine. He looks around in a panic at the unfamiliar white walls around him and tubes coming out from his arm and oh god he remembers. He remembers realizing he was drugged but it'd been too late and then despair and panic and terror and the Namjoon came and-

A warm weight squeezing his hand rips Yoongi from his memories, making him look down to see what this presence is… and being met by familiar hands gripping his own in a tight hold and a worried pair of eyes covered by a sheen of tears and- “Joonie”. The younger looks terrible. He's pale and his face and arms, most of the skin Yoongi can see, actually, is either cut or bruised. But the greatest surprise of all is the wonderfully comforting strangely familiar safe scent, a mix of old books and fresh coffee and new leather.

“You're awake, thank god, Yoongi I'm so sorry…”

“You're an Alpha.”

Namjoon fidgets nervously before meeting the omega's gaze. “I'm sorry for presenting right there, god I could've killed if Donghyuk-hyung hadn't come, shit…” “Joonie.” Silence as Yoongi slowly frees his hand from the alpha's hold and reaches up to softly cup his face. He leans in and gently, almost reverently, nuzzles into the younger's scent gland, rubbing his cheek over the expanse of the alpha's neck, Scenting him for the first time. When he leans back again, Namjoon lets out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding.


Any further exchanges are interrupted by the arrival of a nurse. “Excuse me,” she checks the papers on her clipboard “now that Min Yoongi-ssi is awake, we need to run some exams. Also, you'll have to leave, sir, visiting hours are over except for family or pack members. You're welcome to return tomorrow, visiting hours open at-”

“There's no need for that,” interrupts Yoongi in a steady voice. “He's pack.” Yoongi beams his unique gummy smile at the tears that spill from Namjoon's eyes. Happy tears. 

“He's my Alpha.”