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first.
“It’s a boy,” Jimin presses as he pushes past his husband with one hand on his stomach and the other on his back. He’s thirty-two weeks in now, around seven weeks away from popping, and he’s sensitive. “I’m the one carrying him, and I say we’re having a boy.”
Behind him, he hears a chuckle; Jimin scrunches his nose and all but chucks the box of Kellog’s into the shopping cart before waddling away.
“Okay,” Jeongguk says as he trails along, his step bouncing a little. It matches the way his voice dances, light and playful, obviously finding Jimin’s annoyance amusing. It only irks Jimin more, and he sours, waddling faster with heavier steps. “And you’re entitled to have an opinion but we could very well still be having a girl, hyung.”
Jimin gasps. “It is not an opinion,” he hisses, whirling around in offence. Jeongguk’s eyes are large as he abruptly stops in the middle of the aisle. The cart hits Jimin’s hip, and he pushes it into Jeongguk’s stomach. His mate heaves a little and groans. “Are you the one carrying him? No, I didn’t think so.”
“I helped make our child, though—“
“You shoved your knot into me,” Jimin argues as he begins to walk again; he looks down at the list on his phone and frowns when he realises they forgot to grab some pork belly from the meat section. A part of him wants to send Jeongguk to fetch it himself, but as annoyed as he is, he’d rather not wait in the middle of the store alone. Jimin is brave and independent, but in this late stage of the pregnancy, his biology wins. “I’m the one who’s been carrying him twenty-four-seven, who threw up every morning, the one whose stomach he kicks. He lives inside of me, so when I say we’re having a son, it’s not an opinion but a fact.”
Jeongguk purses his lips; Jimin can see the gears in his head turning, weighing the consequences between continuing his mockery and letting it go. Luckily, Jimin’s alpha is wise—he watches as Jeongguk sighs and rolls the cart over so that he’s walking right next to the omega. He noses the crook of Jimin’s shoulder where his scent gland is and presses a feathery kiss. Jimin preens. “Alright, I’m sorry. You’re right—you know our son more.”
“I’m not saying I know him more,” Jimin mumbles, suddenly guilty. “I just—I mean, since I’m carrying him, I know our baby’s a boy—“
A small laugh bubbles out from Jeongguk’s lungs, and Jimin finds himself being wrapped in an armful of Jeongguk. “I know what you mean, hyung. So, what’s next on the list?”
“We, uh, forgot the meat,” Jimin admits.
Jeongguk blinks. “Do you want me to go get it…?”
“Will you push me in the cart?”
“Hyung, I don’t think that’s legal.”
“Well, I’m not walking.”
The alpha sighs. “Okay, hold on,” he says, then hooks his arms beneath Jimin’s legs and behind his back before putting him in the cart.
Later, when Jeongguk runs back to the car to grab the last of the groceries and Jimin has started putting the first of it back, Jimin finds a yellow bib with the words Daddy’s Little Girl written in pretty cursive, hidden between a bottle of soy sauce and a stack of microwavable rice.
Needless to say, Jeongguk ends up on the couch that night.
The pup ends up arriving early. Looking back, he finds the whole water-breaking scene a little hilarious: him, panicked and afraid, halfway through chopping vegetables for their lunch, and Jeongguk, even more panicked and afraid, careful as he disarmed the knife from Jimin before launching him into the car.
It’s quite a story to tell his friends when they scramble to the hospital later that evening, eager to see the baby that’s still causing Jimin pain. They text him from the waiting room as they’re being chased out, and Jimin contemplates texting them back, but then he’s suddenly fully dilated, and the pup decides he wants to come out now.
He grabs Jeongguk’s hand and squeezes, expletives firing at rapid succession. Jeongguk just nods, agrees with every word, then bravely tells Jimin to keep pushing. He punches the alpha for that, then proceeds to cry when Jeongguk retracts his hand for a second. The apologies Jeongguk gives hardly soothes him, and it’s only when Jeongguk begins to scent him does Jimin find himself calming down by a good point five per cent.
Labour ends up lasting eleven hours in total; by the end of it, Jimin kind of just wants to sleep. The bigger part of him, though—his biology but also just his heart—aches to hold his baby boy in his arms.
“Can I…” he croaks, throat raw from hours of screaming.
“Of course,” the nurse replies, and Jeongguk finally lets go of his hand to allow her to transfer the pup into Jimin’s arms.
The bundle handed to him is tiny with large, doe eyes and a slim nose; when Jimin looks down at their child, he sees a reflection of both him and Jeongguk. He feels the tears begin to slip again as he ducks to rub his nose against the newborn’s cheek. The smell of young coconut permeates the air, surrounding the milk in the pup’s scent, and he hears a tiny gargle of joy murmuring out of the little one’s mouth. Jimin feels himself melt as Jeongguk presses a kiss on his forehead and then on their child’s—he feels whole, complete, loved.
“Hyung?” Jeongguk whispers, a finger reaching out to stroke the curve of their pup’s cheek, and Jimin smiles up at his mate. He gently settles their pup in the alpha’s arms, watches as Jeongguk begins to cry while he covers their child in that soft, bubbly lavender of his.
When he peels away, his eyes are wide with wonder.
“Oh my god, hyung,” Jeongguk gasps in shock, and panic shoots up Jimin’s spine.
“What’s wrong?” he pleads, already scrambling to check on their pup. The nurses and doctor hadn’t said anything before they quietly left, and Jimin assumed that meant there was nothing wrong, but maybe, they had missed something and—
“There’s no penis!” Jeongguk exclaims, his (annoying, irritatingly smug) eyes beaming down at Jimin, who gawks back. Jeongguk grins as he peels the blankets away from their child—their daughter—to reveal his revelation, and Jimin stares, his mind trying to process the correlation between discovering they have a girl and Jeongguk’s enthusiasm.
And then it hits him—the yelling, the insistence on their child being male, the hubris instilled in him because he was the one carrying the baby, which meant, therefore, he was the one who instinctively knew the baby’s gender.
“You were wrong!” Jeongguk giggles again as he kisses their daughter again.
For once, Jimin doesn’t find annoyance seeping into his bones; perhaps, it’s the exhaustion. Perhaps, it’s the high levels of fond bursting in his chest. Regardless, he finds himself smiling, humming lightly as he rolls his eyes.
“Fine, fine,” he mumbles, letting his eyes close for the night. “You were right. You can name her, you dork.”
Jeongguk laughs softly. “Nah, let’s name her together.” A pause, and then, “Unless I can name her I-Was-Totally-Right-Hyung.”
“We’re naming her together,” Jimin finalises and then falls asleep.
Jeongguk posts a picture of their daughter in the group chat later that morning after three more hours of debate between two different options.
What’s her name? Yoongi’s message reads.
Jimin smiles. Jeon Gaeul.
second.
Gaeul ends up being their biggest love, the light of their world. A year passes, and she grows beautifully. They throw her a massive doljanchi; Jeongguk is absolutely ecstatic when their daughter picks up the Nintendo Switch Joy-Con they borrowed from Seokjin, though Jimin’s parents are less enthusiastic about their first granddaughter becoming a pro-gramer in the future. Jimin laughs them both off, reminding them of how he picked up the gavel during his own doljanchi yet ending up a dancer rather than a lawyer. It doesn’t seem to appease them much, but they eventually let the matter go, especially when Jeongguk’s mothers begin celebrating with their son.
The loudest to cheer, though, is Seokjin—he’s, miraculously, the only one out of all their guests to have wagered Gaeul choosing the Joy-Con, which means he’s the only one to leave home with the big prize Jimin and Jeongguk had prepared. Jimin laughs as he watches Taehyung and his other hyungs scowl when Seokjin walks to stage to collect the air fryer from Jeongguk’s alpha mother, smug and gloating at his victory.
“Jimin-ah,” Taehyung whines when Seokjin returns with Jimin in tow, Gaeul securely in his arms. She tugs at the jeoguri of her hanbok, whines as she tries to rip it off. Jeongguk steals her then and takes it off for her, much to Jimin’s displeasure. “Redo the doljabi. Seokjin-hyung cannot be the one to win this stupid bet.”
“Yeah!” Hoseok chimes in. He eyes the air fryer greedily, distrustfully. “It’s like you set it up just for him.”
Jimin snorts. “How would we even know what Gaeulie would even pick up?”
“There’s some sort of scheme here,” Taehyung presses at the same time Yoongi takes two quick shots of soju. Jeongguk eyes the shot glass a little questioningly, still slightly unsure about allowing soju at his daughter’s first birthday celebration. Jimin, though, thinks it’s fine—there are hardly any kids at the party. Gaeul won’t know, anyways.
“There’s no scheme, hyung,” Jeongguk says flatly, pulling his head back when Gaeul reaches up to smack her father in the face. He takes her little hand and presses rapid kisses all over her hand and forearm; she giggles, eyes scrunching into tiny little crescents, nose wrinkling cutely.
Everyone pauses their arguments to coo.
“It is a little suspicious,” Namjoon agrees nonchalantly through a mouthful of rice cakes. “What would you have done if multiple people had chosen the Joy-Con?”
“Rock, paper, scissors,” Jimin answers immediately.
Yoongi laughs. “That’s awfully anticlimactic.”
“It’s fair,” he argues, glaring challengingly.
“You two,” Taehyung interrupts, eyes determined and ablaze, “make another baby.”
Jeongguk chokes on air. The others begin to echo in agreement.
Jimin laughs. “Oh, that reminds me,” he begins, then claps his hand to grab everyone’s attention. A hundred or so eyes turn to look at him, and his cheeks burn from the attention, but even more so from the curiosity and slow realisation dawning on his alpha. He swallows, smiles widely. Reaches over to Gaeul and strokes her cheek twice. “I have an announcement.”
Yoongi leans in just as Seokjin pulls the air fryer away from Namjoon’s inquisitive hands.
“I’m pregnant.”
Hoseok screams, and Gaeul promptly begins to cry.
"I hate you," Jimin mutters. Gaeul is sitting in the backseat, strapped into her tiny car seat and babbling away; she's chewing on a toy Namjoon gave her for her first birthday a month ago, her free hand grabbing at the fuzzy yellow blanket Jimin draped over her before they left.
Jeongguk just sighs from the passenger's seat, uncaps the water bottle resting in the drink holder, and swallows exaggeratedly. "That's not what you were saying when you were sitting on my knot."
"I was in heat," Jimin argues back, glaring at the car in front of them. They've been sitting in traffic for a good thirty minutes now, and he's worried they'll miss their appointment. "Obviously I wouldn't mind hanging from your knot."
"Cool, but I was talking about last night," Jeongguk teases, and this time, Jimin fixes him with the glare. The alpha barely flinches, and instead only grins wider; he has the audacity to smell sickly floral, the undertones of his bubble bath scent absolutely delighting Gaeul. Jimin melts a bit at the way she giggles, and a teeny bit more when Jeongguk turns in his seat and looks fondly back, but he pretends he still isn't swayed.
"I hate you," he repeats again, and Jeongguk laughs brightly, kissing his cheek. He's been doing that a lot, Jimin notices. Secretly, he enjoys it.
"I love you too," Jeongguk tells him easily, then turns to look at Gaeul. "And you too! I love you so, so much!"
This time, Jimin does allow himself to melt; he looks into the rearview mirror and watches his two loves play.
“I can’t determine the gender of the baby yet,” the doctor apologises when Jeongguk asks. He’s getting the ultrasound machine ready while slowly releasing comforting omega pheromones. It helps Jimin calm; appointments like these always induce small bouts of anxiety somewhere in the pit of his stomach. Seeing Gaeul sleeping in Jeongguk’s arms helps, though. “Usually around eighteen weeks I can have a look, but it’s not for sure either.”
“That’s okay,” Jeongguk says somewhat dejectedly, and Jimin squeezes his arm.
The doctor smiles kindly. “Now, are you ready, Jimin-ssi?”
“Yes,” he says, and the doctor slathers the cool gel across his abdomen, runs the machine across his skin. Jimin holds his breath as the image slowly forms on the screen; he’s not sure what it means and looks at the doctor expectantly.
The doctor smiles. “Well, this is unexpected.”
Jeongguk inhales sharply. “Is—Is something wrong?”
“No, quite the opposite,” he says, then points to the screen. “Do you see these, Jeongguk-ssi, Jimin-ssi?”
Jimin squints. Jeongguk tilts his head in question.
“Congratulations, you’re having twins!”
third.
“But how?” the tiny voice asks again, little eyes peeking from behind the counter. Jimin glances down at his youngest, laughing when he sees the tops of his head is covered with flour; perhaps it wasn’t such a bright idea that he asked Beomgyu to help with the baking when his motor skills aren’t up to par yet, but his little one seems to be having fun, so Jimin supposes the mess made is alright.
Beomgyu makes grabby hands at the dough Jimin is rolling, and Jimin passes it to him, smiling wider when he finally pulls over the abandoned stepping stool to use his tinier rolling pin.
“How did I get the baby in my tummy?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well,” Jimin begins, moving to help Beomgyu again when his tiny arms grow tired from rolling the dough. “One night, when you and hyung and noona were sleeping, your dad went out and saw a star, and it reminded him of me. So, because he loves me very much, he climbed up to the sky and got it for me as a present. Then he put the star in my tummy, and it became a baby.”
“Wow,” Beomgyu breathes in awe. Jimin giggles at the way his eyes twinkle; the twins are both spitting images of him, but the glimmer in their eyes are Jeongguk’s. “And the baby is our new sister?”
“Brother,” a new voice corrects, and the peace and happiness Jimin revelled in shatters. He whips his head at the newcomer, glaring in annoyance; it appears to be a recurring trend, he notices, whenever he’s strikingly pregnant. Jeongguk seems less than bothered about pushing all of his mate’s buttons, his scent sweeting into that foamy lavender bath Jimin takes on the weekends. “You’re having another brother, Beomie.”
Beomgyu’s eyes widen in excitement. “I get to be a hyung?”
Jeongguk ruffles his hair and kisses Jimin’s shoulder. If he’s trying to pacify a waking beast, it’s not working. “Yep.”
“Don’t feed him lies,” Jimin scolds, lightly hitting the rolling pin against Jeongguk’s bicep. His mind gets distracted for half a millisecond when he realises his mate is currently shirtless, but then the earlier comment reemerges in his mind, and the irritation sets in again. He’s determined to break this addiction Jeongguk and their friends have developed revolving around their pups’ genders and proving Jimin wrong. “You’re having a baby sister.”
“I like that, too!” Beomgyu reassures, and Jimin lets himself smile at their youngest’s enthusiasm.
Jeongguk also finds the exclamation cute and lifts Beomgyu up with one arm. The boy shrieks, giggling and laughing when his father begins to blow raspberries across his stomach. “You just wanna be an older brother, don’t you?”
“Uh-huh.”
Jimin kisses his baby’s nose. It does look a lot like his own, he decides. “Don’t worry, you will be.”
“Can I stop calling Beomjoon-hyung ‘hyung,’ then?”
Jeongguk bursts into guffaws. “I don’t think he’ll like that, but we’ll talk about it.”
The answer placates Beomgyu, and the four-year-old returns to the cookie dough.
Jeongguk, though, is still fixed on the baby gender discussion. “Boy,” he whispers into Jimin’s ears.
Jimin pinches his bicep. “We’ll see, Alpha. We’ll see.”
Seokjin is the first to arrive; he comes loaded with presents, one for each of their children, unborn included. Gaeul absolutely beams when she’s handed the giant dollhouse she’s been begging her parents for, and Beomgyu and Beomjoon practically screeches when they tore open the wrapping paper to reveal sleek, new RC cars. Jeongguk and Jimin aren't too sure about how they feel about Seokjin spoiling their children so much and even pull him aside to voice their concern, but Seokjin argues back with I haven’t given them presents in six months! and they begrudgingly yield.
Luckily, the rest of their friends aren’t too extravagant with the gifts. Other than Taehyung, who comes prepared with a whole playhouse for the three to share, the presents they shower their children with come in the form of new dolls, clothes and art supplies, which Beomjoon is especially ecstatic about. He charges at Yoongi with a giant hug, screams about him being the best uncle, then proceeds to unpack all hundred markers on the living room floor.
“I helped make the cookies,” Beomgyu announces shyly as he helps Jeongguk pass the plate around.
Suddenly, everyone wants a bite.
“Okay, time for the big reveal,” Hoseok declares, bouncing on his feet. He lets Gaeul feed him a cookie, comically widens his eyes in glee when he chews. She giggles at him, then shoves another cookie in his mouth.
“You just got here,” Jimin complains. He drags his feet into the living room and scowls when he sees Namjoon occupying his favourite seat.
Jeongguk senses the creeping irritation immediately and pulls him onto the couch with him, rubbing his cheek all across Jimin’s scent gland. Inwardly, Jimin feels his omega preen; he relaxes into the alpha’s chest, laughing freely when Beomjoon scrambles to sit on his lap.
“We also haven’t decided what we’re betting on,” Yoongi reminds.
“Air fryer,” Taehyung immediately proposes.
Seokjin shakes his head. “No, no. Loser has to treat the winners to a meal.”
Jimin frowns. “Why are you making loser singular and winners plural?”
“Because, love,” Jeongguk says, his infamous impish grin forming once again, “you’re going to lose.”
“It’s six against one,” Namjoon says a little too excitedly.
“Wait, I thought Taehyung agreed this one’s a girl!”
“Sorry,” his best friend apologises unapologetically. “But Jin-hyung says it’s a boy, so.”
Jimin stares. “So Jin-hyung suddenly decides my pup’s gender.”
“Pretty much,” Hoseok quips, and Jimin splutters.
“He’s not even carrying her!”
“Him,” Jeongguk quickly corrects, and Jimin decides he doesn’t want to sit in his lap anymore.
“Jimin-ah, face it,” Yoongi says slowly as he sips on some apple juice; Jimin had wanted to bring out the beer, but Jeongguk reminded him that a) there are children around who can now very easily grab alcoholic drinks and b) Jimin can’t drink alcohol anyway. So they settled for apple juice and banana milk, which everyone seems to prefer. “Jin-hyung was right the first two times.”
“And you were wrong,” Seokjin chimes happily, and well, Jimin doesn’t really have a retort to that.
He sulks in Jeongguk’s arms, ignoring the way his mate is now stroking gentle circles on his growing belly. “It’s a girl,” he mumbles, and Jeongguk kisses the crown of his head.
“A boy,” is the alpha’s insistence. “But it’s okay to be wrong, hyung.”
“Joon-ah,” Namjoon calls, and Beomjoon whips his head towards his uncle. “What do you think? Are you gonna have a baby brother or a baby sister?”
Beomjoon shrugs, looks back down at the book he’s colouring. The purple bleeds way outside the lines, and the green doesn’t exactly match, but art has always been subjective. “I don’t care.”
“I think—I think!” Beomgyu pipes with a raised hand, and Yoongi heaves him onto his lap. “I think it’s a girl.”
“Me too!” Gaeul echoes, her six-year-old hands bunching bundles of Hoseok’s hair into tiny pigtails. There are already four on his head, two more in the making. Jimin sees Jeongguk snap a quick photo from the corner of his eye, probably to send to the group chat later. “I want a sister.”
Seokjin hums and reaches to pinch Gaeul’s cheek. “Want and think are two different things, little lady.”
“I think,” Beomjoon interjects, suddenly largely contemplative, “it’s gonna be a girl.”
“Ha,” Jimin gloats, coconut absolutely bursting. “The children are on my side.”
“They’re not part of this bet, though,” Taehyung points out.
Beomgyu reaches across the gap between Yoongi’s seat and the couch and tugs on Beomjoon’s sleeve. “Hyung, can I borrow the pink, please?”
Beomjoon hands it to him wordlessly, and Beomgyu gives his twin a cookie in appreciation.
“Doesn’t matter,” Jimin dismissses. “They’re on my side.”
“Yeah, the losing side,” Seokjin teases, and Jimin crosses his arms.
Namjoon laughs. “Okay, let’s check the scan? You said the doctor left a note revealing the gender, right?”
“Yeah,” Jeongguk says, removing Jimin (and Beomjoon) from his lap. He stands and stretches, ruffles Gaeul and Beomgyu’s hair as he passes. “I’ll go get it.”
It’s tense for a minute while Jeongguk’s gone, and the air grows even heavier when he returns. Every adult sits on the edge of their seat, stares at the large, white envelope Jeongguk holds in his hand. The alpha makes a show of opening it up, pulls and then pushes the scan back into its sleeve; Jimin snaps at him to hurry up, nervous about the outcome.
On the one hand, he knows with every fibre of his being that their pup is a girl this time.
But on the other, he’s been one hundred per cent sure before and ended up being one hundred per cent wrong, too.
Jeongguk finally pulls the scan out right when Gaeul squeals how she’s done with her Uncle Hobi’s hair. He’s silent for a second as he reads the tiny note, and Jimin squints at his expression, trying to make out what the lack of emotion means.
Then he smells it—the slight souring, the disbelief. The shock rippling through his alpha’s lavender bubble bath smell, unguarded and transparent. Immediately, Jimin’s coconut bursts with euphoria; he laughs, jumping up after settling Beomjoon on the couch, eyes wide with nothing but unadulterated joy.
“IT’S A GIRL, ISN’T IT?” he yells.
When Jeongguk slowly nods, chaos immediately ensues.
“You’re lying.”
“Let me see that.”
“Wait, Jimin was right?”
“I guess Jimin’s going to be eating well,” Namjoon concludes, and Jimin laughs maniacally, one hand on his stomach.
“I was right! I was so fucking right—”
Beomjoon blanches. “Papa said a bad word.”
“—but you all didn’t believe me! Well, take that, bitches!”
“Two bad words,” Beomgyu whispers, and Gaeul sighs.
“Don’t copy him,” Gaeul tells them both, and they nod obediently.
“I can’t believe you’re right,” Jeongguk says in an almost awe, then his eyes travel down to Jimin’s stomach, eyes glistening with newfound tears. “We’re having another girl.”
“Yoongi-hyung calls dibs on babysitting,” Hoseok teases, and Yoongi scrunches his nose, making faces at Gaeul across the room.
“I love them, but four is too much. Namjoon-ah, let’s do it together.”
“I want in,” Taehyung declares, and Seokjin finally snaps out of his daze.
He turns to Jimin, defeated resolve on his face. “I can’t believe I was wrong.”
“I’d like to eat hanwoo, please,” Jimin teases. “All you can eat.”
“A girl,” Jeongguk echoes again, and this time he’s full-on crying, his mouth quivering up into a watery smile.
The children run to comfort him immediately, tiny arms latching themselves onto whatever part of their father’s body they could grasp. Gaeul whispers words of affirmation into his ear, while Beomgyu tells his father not to be upset. Beomjoon promises to draw a family portrait, and Jeongguk bursts into more tears.
“I thought you were supposed to be the emotional one,” Taehyung whispers into Jimin’s ear, and Jimin laughs lightly.
He looks at his unborn daughter and feels warmth erupting inside of him.
Four months later, Jeon Areum is born.
And she is well loved.