Work Text:
It starts out as an itch.
An itch Jungkook can’t scratch, that persists throughout the week.
“Jungkookie? You alright?” Jimin, who’s sat beside him on the floor, asks, prompting the younger to shake his head.
“Angsty.” Which is kind of how he feels, but not quite? Even Jungkook himself can’t pinpoint this particular feeling, so he tries his best to tamp it down, not wanting to worry his hyungs.
The last Friday of every month is their unofficial movie night, and they rotate between the four apartments, Seokjin and Yoongi’s, Jimin and Taehyung’s, Hoseok’s, and Namjoon’s. This week they’re at Jimin and Taehyung’s. Jungkook still lives in the dorms, since he hasn’t presented and is still underage with no pack of his own.
Though with how things are currently going with his hyungs, Jungkook would say he’s not too far from having one. The only thing that’s stopping them from mating is the fact that Jungkook hasn’t presented yet.
Now, if only this itch would...
“You sure? You’ve been wiggling around all night; did you eat something you shouldn’t?” Hoseok, who’s legs are framing Jungkook, peers down at him, which in turn causes all the other hyungs to look at them. Their collective attention makes Jungkook blush, doing his best to squeak out: “no really, I – I’m fine.”
“If you say so.” Hoseok doesn’t look convinced, though he refocuses on the movie, the latter reaching its epic climax as the heroine realizes that she must sacrifice her friend for the peace to be restored.
It’s a movie Jungkook has been wanting to see, has been waiting to see with his hyungs, yet he finds himself unable to concentrate on the movie as the itch persists, his stomach cramping yet also feeling weirdly empty, frustrating himself even more.
A nose is suddenly pressed next to his neck, barely brushing Jungkook’s scent gland, a shiver running down the maknae’s spine at the almost touch, and he finds his body going lax, the telltale tangerine and vanilla scent miraculously making his itch fade away.
Weird, but who is Jungkook to complain?
“Better?” Jimin whispers into his neck, mindful not to disturb the others. Jungkook nods, expecting Jimin to pull away, not in any shape of form anticipating his hyung to continue sniffing him, the sensation not unpleasant and it makes Jungkook giggle.
“Hey, no making out during the movie.” Comes Yoongi’s low voice, and Jungkook might feel that little bit indignant - he did notice Yoongi and Taehyung sneaking in kisses when the movie started - but before he can utter a single word, Jimin’s already pulling away, a slight frown marring his features: “I think Kookie’s gonna present.”
“Oh?” Seokjin, who had clearly been eavesdropping, leans over from Hoseok’s right, “that’s good.”
“Yeah, but...” the frown’s still there, his bubbly hyung’s seriousness causing Jungkook to worry as well. “Kookie, would you mind letting Jin hyung sniff you? Just to make sure.”
“Make sure of what?” Jungkook asks, as he bares his neck to his eldest hyung. Perturbed, Seokjin scoots down onto the floor without waiting for Jimin to ask, leaning into Jungkook’s space briefly. Immediately, Jungkook gets a good whiff of apples and jasmine, hand instinctively reaching out to pull his hyung closer, because no no no, he’s pulling away –
A hand from behind keeps Jungkook in place, a hand he knows belongs to Jimin, grip surprisingly strong for someone of a somewhat smaller stature, the thought causing a strange fluttering in the youngest’s stomach.
“What do you think, hyung?” By now everyone else’s focus is on the three of them, which does make Jungkook a little self-conscious, the butterflies in his abdomen increase as well.
Seokjin cocks his head, “it would be better if we could run Jungkook through a test, but I’m pretty sure he’s going to go into heat.”
Now that snaps Jungkook out of his head.
“Heat? But...”
“Wait, Jungkookie’s an omega?” Hoseok asks, shock coloring his tone. “I guess that would explain his angstiness?”
And okay, that makes sense, but...
“Ah, that must’ve been why there were alphas trying to flirt with him this week.”
“This week? Does that mean...”
Jungkook tunes out Taehyung and Yoongi’s conversation, the shock still rolling over him in waves. He’s an omega? Like, don’t get him wrong, he’s not against omegas or have any prejudice towards them, but Jungkook had pretty much lived his whole having people tell him, even if they had just met him, that he was bound to be an alpha. He looks like a typical alpha, too: tall, strong, and muscular. Also competitive to boot, all of which aren’t typical superficial omega traits, though like, it’s the 21st century, so he supposes he shouldn’t have took everyone’s opinions and guesses as the absolute truth?
Still, he’s completely blindsided by this new revelation, and yeah, Seokjin may say it’s better to be absolutely sure, but with both Jimin and Seokjin confirming it, and all the subsidiary evidence, Jungkook’s already mentally preparing himself for a few miserable days.
Except he actually has no idea what to expect.
There are hands wiping under his eyes, and wait, when had he started crying? Why is he crying? When had Namjoon suddenly materialized in front of him instead of Seokjin?
“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” Namjoon comforts him in that deep, soothing voice of his, immediately wrapping Jungkook up in that woodland-ish scent that never fails to calm the younger down. Point in case, Jungkook’s already stopped crying, though if asked why he was crying in the first place, he couldn’t really say for sure.
“Might be the hormones.” Yoongi says, somehow popping up behind Jungkook, next to Jimin, and all his hyungs are now gathered around him? “Ruts and heats cause our hormones to go crazy, I’m surprised Jungkook’s preheat hasn’t affected us much.”
“Probably because it’s his first.” Seokjin reasons, head peeking from behind Namjoon. “His body’s still getting geared up, though judging from how he’s smelling now, it’ll kick in soon enough.”
“Smell? What do I smell like?” That sparks Jungkook’s interest, and his tone comes out maybe a little on the demanding side, which earns him an eyebrow raise from Namjoon.
The elder lets it slide, as Jimin, who was the first to sniff him answers: “fruity? Kind of like an orange.”
“Oh.” Jungkook’s a little disappointed if he’s being honest with himself. Not that there’s anything bad about smelling fruity, but he did secretly hope he would be more than fruity loops.
“Hey hey, no need for the long face.” Hoseok comforts him, legs squeezing reassuringly against Jungkook’s sides. “You’re still maturing, your scent won’t fully settle before the first heat.”
That makes Jungkook feel better.
“Even without your scent though,” Taehyung chimes in from behind, “we can still tell if you’re happy or sad, and you’re still our Jungkookie.”
“Okay. Thanks.” The reassurance leaves Jungkook a little shy, cheeks heating up upon the realization that Namjoon’s hands are still holding them, and maybe he doesn’t want the elder to let go. It probably shows on his face, because next thing he knows he’s being kissed fully on the lips, soft yet affirming, melting Jungkook into Jung-goo, and just as sudden as it had begun it ends with everyone crowding closer, limbs and bodies overlaying each other into a dog pile with Jungkook at the center, it’s warm and heady with all of their scents combined, the maknae’s brain mush and body light, almost like he’s floating.
It’s the best kind of high if you asked for his opinion, but like all good things came to an end much too soon for his liking, Jungkook trying his best to hold off a pout (and knowing he’s failing spectacularly, even without his hyungs’ giggles to cue him in).
Seokjin waves for everyone’s attention, smiling once he’s accomplished his mission.
“So Jungkookie,” he says conversationally, “how much do you remember about heats?”
After an extremely awkward conversation with their school’s resident nurse, Jungkook manages to persuade her that he’ll be fine with his hyungs supervising him, and that he doesn’t need “help”, made evident when Jimin lugs a full cargo bag of sex toys from under his bed.
“I didn’t buy these.” He defends himself, face redder than the gochujang his mother makes. “Do you guys have any idea how many people thought I was going to be an omega?”
“Wait.” Taehyung stands up, brows pinched at the implications. “You mean these are all gifts from alphas when you hadn’t presented?”
“At least they didn’t try anything fishy?” Jimin grimaces, clearly wanting to steer clear of this subject, and Jungkook’s ninety percent sure that’s probably sexual harassment of some sort, but then Jimin’s plopped down next to him, zipping open the bag, and it’s Jungkook’s turn to blush.
“I don’t know what you’d prefer, so I’ll leave them all here, but you can ask if you’re not sure how to use some of them.”
It’s currently just the three maknaes in the apartment, the rest of them having gone home to grab some clothes to let Jungkook make his nest. They had debated whether Jungkook should borrow a heat room from their college, but Jungkook had been against it. He wanted to be somewhere he would feel safe, somewhere his hyungs could be near, and didn’t Jimin and Taehyung have that spare room that was intended for a third roommate who chickened out at the last minute?
(That was the gist of it, though half mumbled out by an embarrassed Jungkook, the other half deduced by his hyungs.)
The bed’s still usable, as is the mattress, so that’s one problem down. Jungkook had also emailed a couple of his professors to tell them that he won’t be able to attend class (as Seokjin had been so thoughtful as to remind him that even if his heat was a short one, it was bound to last for a couple of days, plus one day of recovery).
Jimin and Taehyung have already provided him with a few of their clothing, their scents filling Jungkook’s system, lowering this need for them to be near him to a more bearable level. He hasn’t started gushing slick, nor does his head feel hazy, though Namjoon had told him the process would speed up once all of them were back.
Now all he can do is wait.
Which is something that Jungkook dislikes with his whole chest.
Because waiting means there’s nothing to do except for thinking, and thoughts can be dangerous, because even with his hyungs’ assurances, Jungkook can’t help but wonder if they’re really coming back, or are they trying to ditch him without saying it to his face. Not that he thinks they’re assholes or cowards, but he can understand that it would be pretty awkward to break up with him just as he’s about to present. Yet can he blame them? All of his hyungs are alphas, so how would a relationship between one omega and six alphas even work?
The more Jungkook thinks about it, the more his breath comes up short, pinpricks of pain blooming in his chest, crawling and spreading throughout his torso –
Four hands, big and small, find their way onto Jungkook’s waist and cheeks, their respective owners wrapping themselves around him, nose to nose, chest to back.
“Baby what’s wrong?” Jimin whispers, stubby thumbs gently wiping his tears away. Taehyung, who’s wrapped his arms around Jungkook’s waist from behind, rests his head on the maknae’s shoulder, his light scent of raspberry and roses calming Jungkook down somewhat.
“It’s just…how can you guys be with me if I’m an omega?”
Brows furrowing, Jimin opens his mouth just as the doorbell goes off.
“Must be the hyungs. I’ll get it.” Taehyung stands up from behind, planting a kiss smack-dab on top of Jungkook’s head before leaving.
Jimin doesn’t wait until Taehyung’s left when he asks: “what do you mean?”
“I mean, all of you are alphas, I was supposed to be an alpha too, won’t my hormones mess everybody up? You know, like balance and stuff?”
Smiling, Jimin squishes Jungkook’s cheeks, an action that the latter does not enjoy, nope, not one bit (though maybe his hyung’s smile sets loose butterflies in his tummy. Or is that his heat?). “Jungkook-ah, if we’re talking about balance, six alphas has already pushed us way past that point.”
“Besides,” Hoseok chirps from the doorway, the rest of the hyungs trailing in from behind. “If we really cared about traditional balance and stuff, none of us would be here now.”
“What we’re saying is, you being an omega changes nothing.” Namjoon adds. “You have heats, and we have ruts, you can bear children and we can’t, but that’s really the only differences. You’re still the Jeon Jungkook from yesterday and this morning, and you’ll still be Jeon Jungkook tomorrow and the day after that.”
“Nothing has changed.” Yoongi sums up in a light drawl, “unless you want it to.”
Jungkook shakes his head, relief loosening his limbs, breathing comes easier as well. It sounds irrational, now that he thinks about it, and yet had rung so true inside his head. No wonder Namjoon always promotes open communication, it’s so unnecessary angst can be averted.
“On a lighter note, we’ve brought clothes.” Seokjin says, holding up a duffle bag. “Where should we put them? Is the bed good?”
Nodding, Jungkook watches them dump pile after pile of clothes onto his bed, and it’s looks a little excessive, but Jungkook’s heard stories of how clothes are so easily disposed of after a heat, and – wait wait wait, that shirt shouldn’t go there.
Jungkook doesn’t even realize he’s moved until he’s built something of a fortress of clothing around himself, further embarrassed by the fact once he notices that all six of his hyungs are just looking on fondly from the side, and maybe not so subtly with lust.
It’s like a switch is suddenly turned on, heat pooling into Jungkook’s abdomen, trickling to his groin, a small whimper making its way past his lips, and he feels rather than sees his boyfriends’ stances shift.
“I think we’re triggering Kookie’s heat.” Taehyung comments, trying to come off as nonchalant yet failing miserably when he gulps.
“You think?” Yoongi growls, and holy shit that’s hot. Or maybe the growling is just Jungkook’s imagination, he does have a pretty good one. “Those who haven’t scent marked him better hurry.”
Jimin and Taehyung stand back as the rest of them walk forward, Hoseok being the first to crawl onto the bed, mindful not to mess up his nest.
People used to romanticize sharing their first heat or rut with their partner, making it like some kind of once in a lifetime, mind blowing experience, when in reality first heats and ruts are when one’s body has just reached full maturity, which means adjusting and uncomfortableness and a whole lot of hormonal swings, slowly and surely debunking the mythical romance of firsts, so nowadays everyone just books heat rooms for themselves, a whole lot safer and more convenient.
(Seokjin would say he’s been hanging out with Namjoon too much. Jungkook would beg to differ.)
Hoseok dips his nose into Jungkook’s collarbones, scent marking the younger with his lighter, sunshine-ish smell. While the rest of their group all have much more definitive scents, Hoseok’s has always been hard to pin down. Even for Jungkook, who prides himself for having an excellent sense of smell, can’t say for sure what that smell is.
His hyung plants a kiss on his scent gland, just because he can, which would normally make Jungkook giggle, but with how sensitive he currently is, simply sends another spike of heat down his spine, an involuntary moan working its way past his lips.
“Oye, don’t overdo it.” Yoongi chides, amusement seeping into his tone as he steps forward. “There’s still three of us you know.”
“Sorry, sorry.” Hoseok grins, getting up from the bed to make way. “Kookie just smells so good.”
Now, there’s a few established facts among their group, such as Jimin likes being praised, Namjoon likes going on walks, Seokjin likes food, and Jungkook likes nice smells.
So it’s something of a kink of Jungkook’s to be praised for smelling nice. Hoseok knows this. And it comes as no surprise when Jungkook preens, a sizable bulge protruding from his boxers.
“What did I just say?” Yoongi murmurs, not unkindly, as he bends down to scent the maknae, the latter’s senses immediately overwhelmed by peppermint and coffee. His hips buck up involuntarily into his hyung’s thigh, the elder growling as he nips at Jungkook’s neck, just shy of his gland.
“Hyung’s gonna make Kookie come just by his voice.” Taehyung stage whispers, and it’s probably supposed to sound a little embarrassing, but honestly, who wouldn’t come with that deep, raspy and rich voice whispering right into your ear, so Jungkook feels no shame at all in trying his best to not so subtly hump his small hyung.
(He’ll probably feel the mortification once his heat is over, but that’s a problem for a Jungkook of another day.)
Huffing, Yoongi grabs him by the waist, restricting his movements as he pulls away (and oh that’s hot too), giving Seokjin space to squeeze over. Everything smells so warm, so homey, Jungkook doesn’t want any of them to leave, and he thinks he now understands why people would want to spend first heats and ruts together, but as all good things must come to an end, soon Namjoon is hovering over him, his woody, forest-like scent embracing their youngest.
“No hyung.” Jungkook is downright whining now, clinging onto Namjoon like his life depends on it, not quite an exaggeration when there’s an unquenchable heat building in his body, burning him from inside out, the urge to be fucked bright at the forefront of his mind.
He doesn’t realize he’s crying, again, until there are gentle hands wiping them away, butterfly kisses landing on his cheeks and nose, under his eyes and on his mouth, so soft and gentle that he does feel the tears welling up this time, albeit for a whole other reason.
“I don’t want to leave either, Kookie.” Namjoon murmurs, yet Jungkook doesn’t believe it, can’t believe it because they’re still leaving, they’re going to leave him all alone for who knows how long, and it just doesn’t feel right.
“Could we maybe compromise?” Hoseok suddenly asks, prompting even Jungkook to focus on him.
“How so?” Yoongi asks, brow furrowed.
“I know we said that no one should be in the room with Jungkook, but that’s mainly because we shouldn’t fuck him or knot him, right?” Taking a deep breath, the rest comes out in a rush: “I was just thinking, maybe we could help him with the toys?”
There’s a beat of silence, Jungkook looking at all of his hyungs with his best kicked puppy look.
Finally, Namjoon speaks up.
“I’m not against it.” He starts, “but how do we make sure no one loses control?”
“By who normally has more control over their hormones, right?” Taehyung looks at Jimin, and that’s all fine and dandy, but couldn’t they talk about this later? Like, after someone has fucked him?
The heat intensifies as they speak, Jungkook’s hardened member seeking friction, and he can’t help but bury his face into his nest, whining as he snakes a hand down, not even caring that his hyungs are literally right beside him, talking about him.
His rim, which up until now has never been used past it’s common functions, becomes wet, slick staining his boxers as his hand works up a steady rhythm, tiny pants of arousal escaping him, dissipating into the clothes surrounding him.
Suddenly, there’s a hand beside his, another smoothing down his spine, and Jungkook shivers, moaning as kisses are directed to his nape, his shoulders, any and every part of exposed skin.
He didn’t even notice when most of his hyungs had left the room, leaving only one behind.
“I’m gonna touch you, baby.” Jimin whispers, “and I’ll teach you all the magic about these toys, okay?”
Jungkook hums, hips bucking involuntarily when the hand that had been at his back slips into his boxers, circling his rim.
“Ahhng!”
Mini Jungkook gets a small pinch, yet the slight pain merely serves to make him even more aroused, precum dripping down onto the bed.
“Use your words, baby.”
“Ahh - yes, hyung - ngh!”
Between the six of them, they’re able to work out a schedule for taking care of Jungkook without any of them skipping classes or part time jobs. And those that are doing neither of those things could go out and buy supplies, or just lounge in the living room in case of emergencies.
By the fourth day, Jungkook’s heat finally breaks, and he emerges from the room freshly showered with a rosy tint to his whole person, literally and figuratively.
Taehyung and Hoseok immediately coddle him, almost carrying him to the table to eat, while Namjoon walks behind them, leaving tidying the temporary heat room for later. Yoongi’s gone out to buy some food (pizza, because Hoseok had told the elder once it was confirmed that Jungkook’s heat was indeed over), and Seokjin and Jimin both have classes, just the four of them for the time being.
“Wait.” Jungkook crinkles his nose at the bland porridge on the dining table. “Hyung said you guys bought pizza.”
“I did.” Namjoon says, Jungkook turning around to face him, the confusion clear as day on the younger’s face. “But it’s been a few days since you’ve actually eaten a full meal, and your body is still oversensitive, so we have to ease you into it first.”
Jungkook doesn’t like it, that much is clear, but he’s always been obedient when it counts, so he grabs the bowl and starts eating, cleaning the contents in record time.
It would seem amazing except they’ve all seen Taehyung fit a whole slice of cake in his mouth and Jungkook practically inhaling a hot dog bun in the blink of an eye, so none of them bat an eyelash at the latter eating porridge like it’s not even remotely hot.
They expect Yoongi to return first, not counting on Seokjin and Jimin bursting through the doorway (well, technically Jimin; Seokjin makes his entrance in a much more graceful way, as the acting major’s prone to do).
“Don’t you two have class?” Taehyung asks, as he’s walking over to give them quick pecks on the cheek. It’s so domestic and natural it honest to god sends a small pang of fondness zipping it’s way through Namjoon’s heart, lodging itself right where he keeps all those other fond memories of their small pack.
“Finished early.” Jimin says.
“Jungkook is more important.” Says Seokjin.
(It’s meant to sound heartwarming, yet they all know Seokjin once skipped class to buy a limited edition figurine of Mario, though the eldest would claim that Mario is part of his moral support team so is equally dear to him.)
They go over to the other three, checking in on Jungkook before putting away their things, Yoongi opening the front door a few minutes later, three large pizzas hanging from either arm and two boxes of fried chicken because he knows they all want it without them saying so.
They grab the cola from the fridge, because Taehyung always stocks up on it, no one even bothering to sit on anywhere but the floor, though Yoongi does complain about back pains.
It’s when they’ve pretty much demolished all the food, everyone sated and happy, that Jungkook speaks up: “um.”
Not the most inspiring quote, but it does get everyone’s attention. Flushing slightly, Jungkook sits a little straighter as he tries to maintain eye contact with all his hyungs: “I just wanted to thank you guys, for being here for me and helping me through my heat.” He grimaces, still not used to using the word. “Um, yeah.”
He wants to thank them for not giving in to his nonsensical babble in heat, for not leaving him all alone as was the plan.
For not leaving because he turned out to be an omega instead of an alpha.
“That’s what makes us us, right?” Namjoon answers, a fond smile playing on his lips, causing the younger to blush even more, “we want to be here for you, just like how you would be there for us.”
Jungkook nods, not trusting himself to speak just as Hoseok leans over to plant a pizza-flavored kiss on his cheek. Taehyung on his other side does the same, making the omega’s lips lift of their own accord, happiness finding a place on his face as Jimin coos at his expression, Yoongi looking on as well, his eyes soft and expression open.
Jungkook feels so unbelievably soft and warm, his insides like cotton candy and body floaty, it’s hard to imagine a life where all seven of them together isn’t a reality.
Call it fate or destiny or the stars aligned, Jungkook would give it a simpler, more personal name.
It’s home.
Jungkook takes a deep breath, letting it out in a whoosh.
“Ah Jungkookie, you’re making me nervous.” Whines Jimin, blindfolded along with the rest of his hyungs.
It’s been four years. Four wonderful years since Jungkook’s first heat, since they’ve became a pack, a family.
It’s been one year since Jungkook graduated from college, and it’s his first solo exhibition as a photographer.
He’s nervous, and for more reasons than one.
“Tae hyung, put your hands on Jimin hyung’s shoulders - yeah like that, and then Hobi hyung...”
Jungkook instructs them as he moves their arms for them, his hyungs in a single file, hands on the former person’s shoulders. Once done, he takes Jimin’s hand in his, leading them into the gallery.
Nighttime has fallen, and they’re here way past the gallery’s normal open hours. Jungkook had nearly begged the curator to let them in after hours, the night before the actual exhibit, just so he could show his hyungs beforehand.
He just hopes they love it as much as he does.
Jimin’s hand suddenly wraps around his, as opposed to how it was grasped prior. His hyung laces their fingers together, voice soft and reassuring: “don’t be afraid.”
“I’m -” not, Jungkook wants to say, yet he is. He hadn’t even noticed that he’d been shaking, sweat collecting at his nape, and - he shouldn’t be, but he can’t help it.
His hyungs mean everything to him, and the urge to please them and make them happy has always been strong.
“We’re here.” He says instead, stopping in front of the middle display. In eerie unison, they take off their blindfolds at the same time, eyes adjusting to the light, and -
“Oh wow.”
“Jungkookie...”
“This is...wow...”
The gallery is a more circular one, and the exhibition is, like most others, meant to be started from the entrance, gradually moving to the middle, then out the exit.
Ideally Jungkook had wanted there to be six different pathways that lead to the middle then out, but that would require money and connections and fame that he regrettably does not possess. Yet. Hopefully will someday acquire.
The theme is simple and common, something most artists go for at some point in their life: pack. Or family, whichever word works.
Jungkook’s hyungs are all looking at different pieces among the seemingly unorganized exhibition, a mismatch of photos of one of them or some of them, silver and gold strings attached to the frames, all coming together to the center - as a photomosaic of Jungkook.
Underneath it, as with the rest of the photos, there’s a small card with Jungkook’s name, the date it was finished, and the name of this piece.
“Now I’m me.” Namjoon murmurs, fingers brushing over the air above the nameplate. The rest of them gather over, Jungkook lingering a bit to the back, anxious as he gauges their reactions.
“Jungkook.” Namjoon starts off softly. “You did all of this by yourself?”
Nodding, Jungkook finds it incredibly hard to look at his hyungs, ducking his head shyly. He could have asked for help, it’s not like anyone would judge him if he needed a second opinion on things or something, but it felt too personal, too much of himself to let just any bozo leave a mark.
He couldn’t ask his pack mates either, or the surprise wouldn’t be a surprise, so he had tried his best at color coordinating and planning, determined to do his best to show off his mates and his love for them, while also showing Korea what he could do.
Hopefully, his message, also the name of his exhibition, came across alright.
Before meeting any of them, Jungkook was a boy, a boy who only thought of himself, who was confident because he had never fallen, who took but rarely gave.
Now, well, Jungkook wouldn’t say he’s a man, because what defines a man? What makes a man man? But he could say with confidence that he’s a different person than the boy who had came to Seoul from Busan those handful of years ago. A better person.
Hoseok’s arm wraps around his neck in a warm embrace, cooing: “our Jungkookie did so well, hyung is so proud.” Landing a smooch on the latter’s cheek and neck, Jungkook’s blush intensifying when Yoongi slips his hand into the maknae’s, a smile in his voice as he praises the younger: “this is amazing. Thank you for showing us first, Kook.”
“It’s nothing.” Instinctively, his hand tries to go up to scratch his nape, only to be hindered by both people on his sides. Not that he’s complaining, Yoongi isn’t the only one who enjoys handholding, besides, all the contented happy pheromones are definitely helping Jungkook work up his courage for his final act.
Jungkook had asked for their permission to use their pictures before, and so it’s not like they’re totally unaware of what he might do. So it comes as a surprise when he hears a sniffle, coming from where Taehyung and Jimin are standing.
From their body language, Jungkook doesn’t need to guess who’s crying.
Taehyung used to be this...enigma among their pack, back when they hadn’t really formed a pack. He always seemed so cheerful and full of strange ideas and questions, at times thinking on a totally different plane than the others.
There were people who called him an alien. A 4D person. A weirdo.
And then there was Jimin, always ready to punch anyone who made Taehyung sad. Jimin had always got Taehyung, even when the rest of them hadn’t, and so it’s no different now when Taehyung is crying, Jimin already by his side, wiping his tears and crooning gentle words into his ears.
“C’mere pup.” Yoongi held out his other hand, Jimin and Taehyung automatically migrating towards them at his voice without looking back. Taehyung fits snugly against Yoongi’s side, Jimin watching on fondly, a light sheen of unshed tears clinging to his eyes, sparkles of light dancing off him.
Namjoon and Seokjin saunter over, elbows linked, happy pheromones reaching an all time high, spurring Jungkook to speak up: “there’s something else.”
“Oh?” Namjoon asks, fitting Jimin on his other side, the petite alpha sighing as he happily leans onto the taller man.
“I think I’m ready.” Jungkook says, clarifying his point by adding: “I want to mate with you guys.”
There’s a beat of silence (or two; Jungkook isn’t counting, that’s just his heartbeat) broken immediately by Jimin exclaiming: “really?”
“Really.” He doesn’t miss the looks of love and affection from his pack, the same emotions bubbling in his tummy resulting in a full body flush, aided along by his hyungs huddling closer, forming a small circle with Jungkook in the middle.
It’s not that Jungkook hadn’t wanted to mate with them, it was more of a timing thing. He’s not sure why, but every other time he had tried to bring it up, words stuck in his throat, air came out the wrong pipe, or something else would happen that would delay his declaration.
The bigger the pack, the harder it is to balance all of the hormones and personalities, to make things work.
And now Jungkook is ready to be a part of it.
“I’m sorry I made you guys wait.” He mumbles, not daring to look any of them in the eyes. Sure, normally people don’t mate too quickly, but four years? Even after spending heats together, living together, and introducing all of them to their respective families? That’s a little unusual, and Jungkook knows, because they had told him specifically, that they were only going to mate when he was ready, too. They, meaning that all of them were technically unmated up to this point.
It’s another something they’ve all assured him numerous times that he needn’t be sorry or feel guilty about, but he still does. He’s the reason people still ask his packmates if they’re unmated, the reason why strangers give them weird looks upon hearing that they’re a pack.
Because to the public, they aren’t.
And it’s all because of Jungkook.
Two hands lift his face up, while there are several others patting his head or squeezing his hands. Jungkook looks into the eyes of none other than Kim Seokjin, worldwide handsome himself.
“Hey, none of that self-blaming all right? This is a strictly self-loving zone, now snuff up those tears before I wipe them myself.”
Seokjin’s whimsical way of speaking has Jungkook smiling through his tears? Tears, he hadn’t even noticed that he was crying, nor that those sniffles were his and not just Taehyung’s. Jimin is laughing off to the side, body supported by Namjoon lest he fling himself to the ground, and Jungkook knows without looking that Hoseok must be smiling just as wide as Namjoon, Yoongi on his other side giving his hand a squeeze.
“Thank you.” Jungkook ends up mumbling, cheeks red and heart full. He doesn’t need to specify who he’s thanking, they already know they’re all included.
“You’re welcome.” Seokjin answers anyways, because that’s simply how he functions.
“Now, who’s up for some lamb skewers?”