Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The chandeliers dripped light like melted stars, casting shimmering puddles across the marble floor of the Elysian Grand Hall. Everything reeked of old money—velvet laughter, the clink of fluted champagne glasses, the silent wars waged in designer heels and wolfish smirks. It wasn’t a place for someone like Kim Seokjin.

But he was there.

Tucked in the corner, sleeves rolled up, hands dusted with pollen and earth. Jin arranged a bouquet at the farthest table, every bloom a soft whisper of care. His delicate fingers trembled slightly—not from nerves, but from the overwhelming scent of dominance lingering in the air. The room was full of alphas. Important ones. Rich ones. Loud ones.

And he was just an omega florist hired to decorate a charity gala he would never be invited to otherwise.

He didn’t notice the pair of eyes locked onto him from the second floor balcony.

Kim Taehyung leaned against the carved banister, glass of scotch untouched in his hand. He was draped in silk and power—his tailored suit dark as sin, collar slightly open, revealing a glimpse of the strong column of his throat. The room bowed to his presence, yet his gaze never strayed from the timid omega below.

He was exquisite.

Not in the way models were, painted and sharp.

No, Jin was… soft. Real. Fragile, like the petals he cradled. Something about the way he looked down, never meeting anyone’s gaze, made Taehyung’s alpha stir with a hunger that was not just carnal.

Possession. Protection. Obsession.

He watched as Jin turned slightly, exposing the small gland at the base of his neck. Unmarked. Untouched. Unclaimed.

Taehyung’s eyes darkened.

---

Jin shifted nervously as a passing waiter gave him a strange look. He bowed instinctively, even though he didn’t need to, and tried to finish the centerpiece without drawing attention. But the heavy weight of someone watching made his skin tingle.

His omega senses were delicate, hypersensitive in a place like this. He shouldn’t have accepted the job. The moment he entered, the scent of dominance had made him dizzy. It clung to the air like thick smoke.

“Are you done here?” a clipped voice asked behind him.

Jin flinched and turned to see a sharp-faced woman in a designer dress eyeing him like dirt on crystal.

“Y-yes,” he mumbled, bowing again. “I’m sorry. I’ll be quick.”

“Hurry up. Your kind shouldn’t be so visible at events like this.”

Jin’s stomach churned, but he simply nodded. He was used to this. The snide remarks. The subtle jabs. Omegas like him—unbonded, unprotected—were always looked down on, especially in elite spaces.

From above, Taehyung’s jaw clenched. The audacity. His gaze slid coldly toward the woman, who visibly paled and stepped away after catching his eye.

Jin didn’t notice. He had already packed up his things, preparing to slip out like a ghost.

---

Outside, the night air was cooler, but Jin couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

He walked down the marble steps, his boots light against the stone. He paused to adjust his coat when the hairs on his neck rose. A sleek, black car pulled up in front of him, slow and deliberate.

The door opened.

“Kim Seokjin,” came a voice as smooth as velvet and dark as midnight.

Jin turned, startled. His heart froze.

Taehyung.

In person, he was more terrifyingly beautiful than anything Jin had seen. And he was looking at him. Really looking.

“I—uh… y-you know my name?”

Taehyung smirked slightly. “I make it a point to know things that interest me.”

Jin’s mouth parted, but nothing came out. His omega instincts screamed at him—run—but he couldn’t move. His feet were stuck. He didn’t understand why an alpha like Taehyung would even glance his way.

“You shouldn’t let people speak to you like that,” Taehyung said softly, stepping forward, eyes flicking briefly to Jin’s exposed neck. “Where’s your bondmark?”

Jin flushed deep red. “I-I don’t have one…”

Taehyung’s eyes gleamed.

“I see.”

A beat of silence. Then, the alpha reached into his coat and pulled out a small white card, pressing it into Jin’s hand.

“Come to this address tomorrow. Noon. Bring nothing.”

Jin blinked, trembling. “W-why?”

Taehyung leaned closer, so close Jin could smell the rich amber of his scent.

“Because I want you.”

And then he was gone. The door shut. The car pulled away, leaving Jin breathless under the halo of streetlight, staring at the card in his hand as if it might vanish.

Chapter Text

The card felt heavier than it should have.

Jin stared at it the entire ride home, nestled in the crease of his palm like it might burn through his skin. It was matte white with only a single line embossed in black foil:

"36-1 Baekjeong Hill, Private Elevator 2. Noon."

No name. No logo. Just a time, a place, and an expectation.

Jin hadn’t slept that night. His brain churned in circles, oscillating between Why me? and What does he want? Over and over, until dawn crept in through his small window, painting shadows on the beige walls of his tiny apartment.

He could have thrown it away.

He didn’t.

---

The cab dropped him at a towering skyscraper wrapped in glass and silver. The kind of building you saw in magazines, not in person. The kind of place where people like him never entered. He stood on the curb, trembling, in his plain beige coat and scuffed boots, looking up like it was a cathedral.

The doorman didn’t stop him. Didn’t even look twice. Somehow, Taehyung had already cleared the way.

Inside, the marble lobby gleamed. He was directed wordlessly to the private elevator on the left, which required no button press—it simply opened as he stepped forward, almost like it had been waiting for him.

The ride up was silent. No music. Just the hum of tension and the faint thump of Jin’s pulse in his ears.

When the doors opened, he was inside another world.

---

The penthouse was enormous. Ceiling-to-floor windows displayed a breathtaking view of the city, glittering below like a spilled jewelry box. Soft jazz played in the background, and everything smelled faintly of cedar and smoke.

Taehyung stood at the far end, near a bar cart, swirling something dark in a glass.

“You came.”

Jin swallowed hard, heart skittering like a frightened bird. “You asked me to.”

“I didn’t think you would.”

“Neither… did I.”

Taehyung smiled, slow and unreadable, and motioned to the sofa.

“Sit.”

Jin obeyed, folding his hands in his lap like a schoolboy awaiting judgment.

Taehyung walked toward him slowly, drink in hand, a hunter scenting something precious. He didn’t sit beside Jin, but instead in the chair directly across, where he could watch him closely.

“Do you know who I am, Seokjin?”

“Yes,” Jin said quietly. “Everyone does.”

“And yet… here you are.”

Taehyung leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You have no bondmark. No protection. You work alone, in a shop that barely gets foot traffic. You walk home every night in the dark. You smell of violets and rain, and you look like something meant to be hidden away.”

Jin’s cheeks flushed with humiliation. “I… I try to stay out of the way…”

“I don’t want you to.”

That startled him. He looked up, finally meeting the alpha’s eyes—and almost regretted it. Taehyung’s gaze was molten, piercing, far too intense for someone like him.

“You’re beautiful, Jin,” he said, voice low. “But more than that… you’re untouched. Honest. In a world full of lies.”

Jin’s throat bobbed.

“W-Why did you call me here?”

Taehyung rose from his chair and walked over to the sofa, sitting beside him now. Close. Too close. Jin’s body tensed as their thighs brushed.

“Because I want you,” he said, the same words as the night before. “I want to take care of you. Shelter you. You’ll want for nothing.”

Jin’s heart fluttered. “A-are you saying you want to… claim me?”

Taehyung stilled.

“No,” he said gently, “not yet. You don’t know me. And I don’t want to mark you unless you ask me to.”

Something in Jin deflated with confusion and a pang of longing. “Then… what am I to you?”

Taehyung turned toward him, hand brushing gently against Jin’s cheek. Jin flinched but didn’t pull away.

“For now,” the alpha whispered, “you’re mine. In every way that matters. You’ll stay here. No one will bother you. I’ll give you everything.”

Jin’s breath caught. “A-Alpha, I…”

“Taehyung,” he corrected softly.

“Taehyung,” Jin said, the name delicate on his tongue like glass.

“Good omega.”

And when Taehyung pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist, something in Jin—frightened, touch-starved, desperate to belong—broke open.

He nodded.

---

Later That Night

Taehyung showed him to a room on the east side of the penthouse—larger than Jin’s entire apartment. The sheets smelled like clean linen and something subtly spicy.

“You can sleep here, or with me. Your choice.”

Jin blushed, clutching the hem of his shirt. “This is… fine.”

Taehyung’s eyes searched his face. “You’re not used to kindness, are you?”

Jin blinked. “Not from alphas.”

Taehyung’s gaze darkened. “Then let me teach you what it means.”

He didn’t touch him—not yet. Just left him with a soft promise and a whispered goodnight.

But Jin didn’t sleep. Not really. He lay awake for hours, staring at the ceiling, confused by the warmth blooming in his chest.

No one had ever looked at him the way Taehyung did.

Like he was worth something.

Chapter Text

The days began to bleed together like ink in water.

Jin woke up wrapped in soft sheets that didn’t smell like him, surrounded by windows that overlooked a world he didn’t belong to. The room was too big, too clean, too expensive. But it was warm. Quiet. And safe.

Every morning, there was a fresh set of clothes laid out for him—nothing flashy, just soft sweaters, silk-lined coats, tailored slacks in muted hues. He never saw who delivered them. Everything moved around him as if he were a kept secret in a palace built of glass.

Taehyung didn’t hover, but he was always there.

Watching. Waiting.

Guiding Jin’s every step with the same casual control he used in boardrooms.

At first, it was simple. Meals together. Walks on the rooftop garden. Taehyung would ask questions—not invasive, but curious. About his childhood, about flowers, about the stories behind scars on his knees from when he fell off a bike at nine.

Jin answered everything. Softly. Willingly.

Because Taehyung listened.

No alpha had ever done that.

---

On the seventh night, they kissed.

It wasn’t explosive. There was no fire or claws or desperation.

It was slow. Careful. His alpha cupped his jaw like Jin might shatter. Their lips met in the kind of quiet that made his chest ache—because Jin had never been kissed like he mattered.

After, Taehyung pulled back and said, “You taste like innocence.”

Jin whispered, “You make me feel like I’m not broken.”

And that was how it began.

---

They became shadows of each other.

Jin would wait for Taehyung to come home, reading books in the sunroom, sometimes falling asleep against the wide glass panels until strong arms picked him up and carried him to bed.

Sometimes they touched. Not always. But when they did, it wasn’t rough.

It was reverent.

Taehyung didn’t demand anything. But when Jin offered himself—trembling and unsure—the alpha kissed every inch of him like he was made of stars.

Jin fell in love with him quietly.

So quietly, he didn’t realize it until it hurt.

---

One morning, Jin reached for Taehyung’s coat to take it to the cleaners and found something that made his stomach twist.

A tabloid magazine.

The front page headline read:

“TAEHYUNG KIM SPOTTED WITH SOCIALITE HEIRESS AGAIN—ROMANCE RUMORS REIGNITED”

There were photos. Grainy. Blurred. But unmistakable.

Taehyung and some tall omega in a silver dress, laughing outside a gala. His hand on her back. His head tilted in that same teasing way he used with Jin.

Jin stared at it for a long time.

Then folded it up and placed it back in the pocket.

When Taehyung returned home that night, Jin was waiting at the window again, book in hand, pretending he hadn’t spent the entire day wondering if he was a secret worth keeping.

---

“Who was she?” Jin asked gently that evening, curled up on the couch while Taehyung poured them wine.

Taehyung didn’t flinch. He never did. “Just a business partner. She likes to make things look romantic for the cameras.”

Jin smiled tightly. “Doesn’t it bother you? That people think you’re with her?”

Taehyung shrugged. “Let them. I don’t owe the world the truth.”

Something cracked a little inside Jin, but he kept smiling.

Because what else could he do?

He wasn’t marked. He wasn’t official. He wasn’t anyone to Taehyung except the omega who waited in his bed.

And love—love was not part of their arrangement.

---

A week later, a delivery arrived while Taehyung was away.

Jin signed for it without thinking, not noticing the sharp glances from the concierge. Inside the package were custom silk collars—fashionable, for bonded omegas—and a handwritten note that wasn’t meant for him.

“For your next public appearance. You’re going to look exquisite beside him.”

It was from the socialite omega.

Jin stared at the words, heart pounding.

His scent spiked, a ripple of fear and shame filling the room.

Later that night, he confronted Taehyung.

“Why did she send that?” he asked, voice small.

Taehyung looked annoyed for the first time. “She’s playing games. Ignore her.”

“I can’t, Taehyung,” Jin said quietly. “Because she’s out there on your arm. And I’m… nothing.”

“You’re mine,” Taehyung growled, stepping forward.

“But only here,” Jin whispered.

And that truth cut deeper than any insult ever had.

---

That night, they made love.

Slow. Desperate. Full of words Jin didn’t say out loud. He held onto Taehyung like he was all he had left.

And when Taehyung fell asleep, Jin turned away, silent tears slipping down his cheeks, soaking the silk pillow beneath him.

He was in love.

But he was still invisible.

Chapter Text

The first time it happened, Jin told himself it was a coincidence.

He had gone out to a local café, just for a walk, just to feel normal again. Taehyung had meetings all day, and the penthouse had begun to feel like a cage, albeit a golden one.

The barista smiled too politely. Her nose wrinkled a bit too quickly when Jin stepped up to the counter.

“I’m sorry,” she said, forced smile still intact. “This table’s reserved for VIP members. Perhaps something outside?”

Jin glanced around. Half the café was empty.

He nodded and went outside. Alone.

---

The second time, it wasn’t subtle.

He was in a boutique trying to buy a scarf. Something simple, nothing expensive. But the woman behind the register leaned in close and said in a low voice:

“Someone like you… shouldn’t try to imitate them. You don’t belong on his arm, omega.”

Jin stared, stunned. “E-Excuse me?”

The woman smirked. “We all know what you are. A little house pet. You won’t last long. He’ll get bored. They always do.”

Jin left the scarf on the counter and fled.

His heat came early that month. Brought on by stress.

Taehyung had his assistant cancel meetings and stayed with him through the haze. He fed him, held him, whispered gentle things into his ear that made Jin’s heart ache in the best and worst ways.

“You’re mine,” Taehyung murmured, stroking his trembling back.

But when Jin whispered, “Then tell the world,” Taehyung stiffened.

And said nothing.

---

It only got worse.

Photos were leaked. Not of Jin—but of Taehyung with others. Always with other omegas. Always smiling for the cameras. Jin stopped checking the tabloids, but the rumors found him anyway.

“Have you seen what the press is saying?”

“They say he’s just keeping him as a pet.”

“He won’t even take him to events. Must be ashamed.”

“They say he used to sleep with that socialite before the ‘flower boy’ took over his bed.”

Jin began avoiding the mirror.

He stopped going outside altogether.

And Taehyung…

Taehyung noticed.

---

“Why haven’t you left the penthouse in two weeks?” the alpha asked one evening, setting down a plate of carefully prepared dinner.

Jin didn’t answer. He sat curled up on the couch, wearing one of Taehyung’s sweaters, hands wrapped around a mug he hadn’t touched.

“You love it here,” Taehyung said, as if trying to remind him. “Don’t you?”

Jin stared out the window. “It’s not the place that hurts me, Taehyung. It’s the silence.”

Taehyung walked around and crouched in front of him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean no one knows I exist,” Jin said softly. “And those who do… hate me for it.”

Taehyung exhaled slowly, eyes dark. “You want me to parade you in front of them? Mark you like some conquest? I kept you hidden to protect you, Jin.”

“I didn’t want protection,” Jin whispered. “I wanted to be chosen.”

The silence stretched between them like a chasm.

Then Taehyung stood. Cold again. Distant.

“You don’t understand the world I live in.”

“No,” Jin said quietly. “I don’t. You’ve never let me in.”

---

That night, Jin cried silently in bed, curled up in Taehyung’s absence. The alpha didn’t come to him. Didn’t check on him.

For the first time in weeks, the bed felt like it belonged to someone else again.

Jin’s scent began to change—sour with stress, tinged with sorrow.

Taehyung noticed.

But he still said nothing.

---

A month passed. Jin stopped eating as much. His smiles faded. Even his scent dulled. He only spoke when spoken to. He moved like a ghost in the glass castle Taehyung had built for him.

Until one day, he collapsed in the garden.

Chapter Text

The first thing Taehyung noticed when he entered the room was the silence.

Not the peaceful kind.

The kind that felt like something sacred had already died.

Jin was lying on crisp white sheets, unmoving. A thin blanket wrapped around his slight frame. His hair clung to his forehead with sweat. An IV line trailed from his arm. Electrodes dotted his chest.

And his eyes…

They were open, but empty.

Not blank.

Empty.

A ghost wearing Jin’s skin.

Taehyung’s knees hit the floor before his mind could catch up.

He gripped the edge of the bed as his heart clawed its way into his throat. “What—what the fuck happened to him?”

The physician looked up, hesitant. His voice was low. Controlled.

“As I said. Emotional withdrawal. Malnourishment. Dehydration. His body finally gave up.”

“He never said anything. He—he never said he was hurting.”

“He did,” the doctor said softly. “Just not with words.”

---

That night, Taehyung sat alone in the living room long after the doctors left.

The walls felt like they were pressing in.

He stared at the coffee table where Jin’s favorite tea still sat—untouched. Cold. Like everything else in the apartment now.

He remembered the first time he saw Jin cry.

Back then, it had wrecked him. He thought he'd done something terrible.

But this… this numbness was worse.

He would’ve taken rage. Screaming. Even hate.

But Jin had simply stopped feeling.

And that… was on him.

---

Two days later, a whisper of truth arrived in the form of a test result.

“Congratulations,” the physician said, voice tight. “He’s carrying your child.”

Taehyung blinked.

Then laughed.

Once. Sharp. Disbelieving.

Then he nearly fell to his knees a second time.

Because of course. Of course.

Of all the times he could’ve done the right thing—chosen him, protected him, loved him—he had failed.

And now Jin was growing life in a body that barely had the will to live.

---

The next week was a blur of grief disguised as care.

Taehyung fed him. Bathed him. Talked to him like he used to—softly, as if love alone could bring the light back to his eyes.

He left his work behind like it never mattered.

The world noticed.

Tabloids speculated. Business headlines screamed:

“TAEHYUNG KIM WITHDRAWS FROM PUBLIC LIFE—MYSTERY ILLNESS?”
“MISSING FROM EVENTS: IS THE KING OF SEOUL FINALLY FALLING?”

Taehyung didn’t care.

Because the only thing that mattered was the man lying in that bed—pale, sunken, silent. The man Taehyung had called his, but never claimed.

He would whisper:

“Please eat, love.”

“You have to stay strong for the baby.”

“You’re not alone anymore.”

But Jin only looked past him.

As if waiting for something that never came.

---

One night, Taehyung fell asleep holding Jin’s hand.

When he woke up, the bed was empty.

Panic hit him like fire.

He ran through the penthouse calling his name. The guestroom. The bath. The rooftop.

He found Jin standing at the edge of the balcony.

Barefoot.

His hair blowing in the wind. The city spread out beneath him like stars.

Taehyung's voice cracked. “Jin.”

Jin didn’t move. Just stared down. Still as a statue.

Taehyung crossed the space between them like stepping over shards of glass.

Slow.

Silent.

He reached out.

Touched Jin’s shoulder.

The omega flinched.

But didn’t pull away.

Taehyung stepped in behind him and whispered, “Please don’t disappear. Not like this.”

Jin said nothing.

But a single tear slid down his cheek.

Taehyung took it as permission. He wrapped his arms around him from behind—gently. As if holding something already half broken.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered, voice trembling. “Just stay.”

Jin didn't answer.

But he let himself be led away from the edge.

---

That night, Taehyung placed something small on the nightstand.

A gold ring.

Simple. Timeless.

Not an apology.

Not a claim.

Just a hope.

“I should’ve put it on your finger when you first smiled at me,” he whispered, brushing Jin’s hair from his forehead as he lay sleeping. “But I thought I had forever. I thought I had time.”

He swallowed.

“I see now… I never did.”

Chapter Text

The moment Jin collapsed, Taehyung vanished from the public eye.

The whispers started small.

“Kim Taehyung missed the Seoul Gala?” “He canceled the auction dinner. That’s never happened.” “His PR team won’t answer calls.”

Then came the frenzy.

“Photos leaked. He's holding someone’s hand at the hospital.” “Rumor has it—the mystery omega from six months ago?” “He’s protecting someone. Or hiding them.”

But Taehyung didn’t care what they whispered.

Because for the first time, he wasn’t hiding anymore.

---

Seoul, Two Weeks Later

The boardroom was packed.

Executives sat in silence, trying to pretend they weren’t sweating under the cold burn of Taehyung’s gaze.

He stood at the head of the table. Dark suit. No tie. Sleeves rolled.

The picture of quiet fury.

“Effective immediately,” he said, voice like ice. “Anyone affiliated with the tabloids that ran those stories about my omega—you are cut off. No funding. No sponsorship. No brand deals.”

“Sir,” one executive tried, “those outlets have high traffic—”

Taehyung’s hand hit the table.

Hard.

The man flinched.

“I said,” Taehyung whispered, “cut off.”

Silence fell like a sword.

Taehyung straightened, eyes like steel. “They humiliated him. They slandered someone who never asked to be known. And I let them.”

He looked each man in the eye.

“I won’t let it happen again.”

---

The List

He compiled names.

People who had laughed.

Companies that had snubbed Jin in public, then courted Taehyung’s favor behind closed doors.

Influencers who made jokes about “the ghost omega in the glass tower.”

The boutique that told Jin he didn’t belong.

The barista who sneered at his scent.

Every single one.

And one by one…

They fell.

Stores lost permits.

Celebrities found themselves disinvited from events with no explanation.

A major brand’s contract with Taehyung’s fashion line mysteriously dissolved overnight.

Within three weeks, Seoul’s elite felt the shift:

“He’s giving a clear message.” “Don’t mention the omega. Don’t think about mentioning the omega.”

People who had once laughed began to scramble for apologies.

Letters arrived. Flowers. Gifts. Begging forgiveness.

Taehyung accepted none of them.

---

The Press Conference

Taehyung stood before a wall of cameras dressed in all black.

He hadn’t spoken publicly in two months.

The world waited.

And then he said:

“A while ago, I made a choice to protect someone by hiding them. I thought the silence would shield them from cruelty. Instead, that silence became the weapon.”

He paused.

“I’m not hiding him anymore.”

A collective gasp rippled through the room.

“The omega you mocked. The one you whispered about. He’s mine. And every insult you threw at him… you threw at me.”

“If you want my attention, my name, or my money—you respect him.”

“If you don’t—you’re nothing to me.”

---

Back at the Penthouse

Taehyung came home to Jin sleeping curled under a thick blanket, a faint flutter of life growing inside him.

He knelt beside the bed.

Brushed a kiss across Jin’s knuckles.

“You don’t know it yet,” he whispered. “But I’ve burned the world for you.”

A soft rustle—Jin’s lashes twitched. His brows furrowed.

Then, faintly…

“Burned?” Jin murmured. “Why?”

Taehyung froze.

Then—joy. Hope. Crushed and cautious, but alive.

He leaned in. “Because you’re mine. And they hurt you.”

Jin blinked slowly, voice barely audible. “You didn’t stop them.”

Taehyung’s heart shattered.

He nodded. “I didn’t. But I will now. Forever.”

Jin’s eyes drifted closed again, too tired to respond.

But a tear slid from the corner of his eye.

And this time…

Taehyung was there to catch it.

Chapter Text

The world bowed, but cruelty always finds cracks.

The day started quietly.

The sun had been soft that morning, streaming through the tall windows. Jin had eaten two spoonfuls of soup without being coaxed. Taehyung had dared to smile. Even the doctor said his hormone levels were stabilizing.

But progress was a glass house.

And it shattered that afternoon.

---

The Interview

It wasn’t a major network.

A tired influencer, reaching for dying relevance, ran a livestream.

They laughed—high and sharp—flicking through gossip.

“The omega? You mean the one Taehyung keeps locked away like some broken thing?” “It’s not love. It’s pity. You think he’d ever choose an omega like that if it weren’t for guilt?” “Come on. Look at him. Nothing to offer. No family name. No power. Just soft eyes and a pretty little sob story.”

It went viral in under an hour.

By evening, it had reached the one place it should never have touched:

Jin.

---

The Break

It was a nurse.

She found him sitting on the bathroom floor, knees tucked to his chest, hands trembling.

The tablet lay beside him, screen cracked from where he’d dropped it.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t cry.

He just stared—like someone who had seen his own grave.

Taehyung arrived minutes later.

He took one look at Jin’s face and knew.

Something had broken. Again.

“Who showed him the stream?” Taehyung growled, voice a death sentence.

The staff went silent.

The nurse stepped forward, guilt heavy in her posture. “He asked for music… I didn’t know he was on the app.”

Taehyung said nothing.

Just turned and walked out.

---

The Fire

That night, Seoul burned.

Not literally—but close.

The influencer’s channel vanished within hours. Every brand, sponsor, and platform cut ties.

By dawn, they were bankrupt.

Taehyung bought the apartment building where the stream had been recorded.

Demolished it.

Left the land empty.

When questioned, his legal team released a single statement:

“He destroyed a structure built on cruelty. You’re lucky it wasn’t your name instead.”

---

The Collapse

But vengeance didn’t fix everything.

Jin didn’t speak for three days.

Didn’t eat.

Didn’t sleep without sedatives.

The baby, too, reacted—tiny heartbeats slowing on the monitor, then fluttering back.

“His system’s shutting down,” the doctor said softly. “From stress. He’s hanging on. But barely.”

Taehyung sat at Jin’s bedside that night, holding his limp hand in both of his.

“I keep punishing them,” he whispered. “Every name. Every mouth that dared to speak your name with cruelty—I ruin them.”

His voice cracked.

“But none of it brings you back.”

Jin didn’t move.

But Taehyung kept speaking.

Desperately.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.”

“I’d destroy the sky if you asked. But I can’t fix this if you won’t come back to me.”

Still nothing.

He pressed his forehead to Jin’s hand and choked on a sob.

“Please.”

---

The Dream

That night, Jin stirred in his sleep.

He dreamed of whispers.

Hands pointing.

Laughter behind curtains.

He dreamed of standing in the center of a ballroom in nothing but shame, while the people who once smiled at him hurled invisible daggers.

Unworthy. Clingy. Pitiful. Burden.

Then—one voice cut through them.

Low.

Commanding.

Taehyung’s voice.

Enough.

The room stilled.

He turned.

And for the first time in the dream—

Taehyung was looking at him.

Not through him.

At him.

Like he was real.

Like he mattered.

Jin woke with a gasp, soaked in sweat.

Taehyung was there.

He always was.

Jin whispered, so faintly it almost wasn’t real:

“Don’t go.”

Taehyung’s head snapped up.

His heart broke with relief.

“I’m not,” he whispered, trembling. “Never again.”

Chapter Text

The apartment was silent.

It had been silent for hours.

Jin hadn't spoken since the night he whispered "Don't go."

Taehyung thought that meant hope.

But grief is a cunning thing—it hides behind soft words and small gestures.

And Jin had grown very good at hiding.

---

The Letter

Taehyung woke up to sunlight and the scent of lavender.

At first, he smiled. It smelled like Jin.

Then he realized—Jin wasn’t in the bed.

And the door to the en suite was locked.

Panic bloomed in his throat.

He called out.

No answer.

He pounded the door.

Still silence.

He kicked it open.

And found him.

---

Jin sat on the bathroom floor.

Wrist nicked.

Blood trickling.

A bottle of suppressants spilled beside him.

But he was alive.

Barely.

Eyes glassy.

Face peaceful.

Like someone who thought it was over.

And had welcomed it.

---

The Hospital

“Low dosage,” the doctor said. “More symbolic than fatal. But still dangerous.”

Taehyung could barely hear him over the rushing in his ears.

He sat beside Jin’s bed, fingers curled around the crumpled piece of paper he found in the sink:

“You don’t have to burn the world anymore. I won’t be your shame.”

There was no anger in it.

No accusation.

Just surrender.

And that—that—was what broke him.

Taehyung read it a hundred times before finally whispering,

“I was never ashamed of you.”

---

The Breaking

That night, Taehyung cried against Jin’s stomach.

Spoke to the baby.

“Please don’t leave me too,” he whispered, voice cracked and desperate. “I’ve already lost him. I don’t know how to bring him back.”

The monitor beside the bed beeped steadily.

The only sound of life in the room.

He took Jin’s hand and kissed the inside of his wrist—right where the bandages wrapped around it.

“I should’ve protected you from the beginning,” he whispered. “Not just from the world… from me.”

He looked up at Jin’s face, pale and distant.

“I love you,” he said again. “I’ll keep saying it, even if you never say it back.”

He placed his hand over Jin’s.

“I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

---

A Flicker

It came three days later.

He was reading beside the bed.

A children’s book.

Soft, silly words—something to fill the silence.

He didn’t expect a reaction.

But halfway through the second page…

Jin stirred.

His lips moved.

Taehyung froze.

Then leaned in.

“…again,” Jin whispered.

Taehyung’s throat closed up.

“…what?”

“Read it,” Jin said, so softly it could’ve been imagined. “Again.”

Taehyung nodded.

Tears slipped silently down his cheeks.

And he read the story three more times.

Each word a heartbeat.

Each line a promise.

That maybe—

Maybe—

They hadn’t lost everything yet.

Chapter Text

The room was dim.

Jin sat propped up against pillows, smaller than ever, wrapped in warmth that didn’t reach his eyes.

Taehyung entered quietly.

In his hand: a small, sleek monitor—the kind they used for prenatal scans.

“I thought…” Taehyung hesitated. “They said you might want to hear.”

Jin didn’t move.

Didn’t refuse.

That was enough.

Taehyung settled beside him, voice hushed.

“It’s just a few seconds. But the doctor said the sound is clearer now.”

He pressed the sensor gently to Jin’s lower stomach.

Silence.

Then—

ba-dum. ba-dum. ba-dum.

Tiny.

Steady.

A heartbeat.

Jin blinked.

Once.

Twice.

His lips parted.

“…that’s real?”

Taehyung nodded, barely able to speak.

Jin stared at the monitor. “That’s… inside me?”

Taehyung nodded again, voice cracking.

“It’s ours.”

---

The Collapse

The monitor beeped softly in the background.

But Taehyung wasn’t watching it.

He was staring at Jin.

Like he might vanish if he looked away.

And then, suddenly—

He broke.

The alpha who had brought corporations to their knees, who had razed reputations and empires without blinking—collapsed.

He knelt by the bed, buried his face in Jin’s lap, and sobbed like a man who had finally let go of all the armor.

“I’m sorry,” he choked, words barely intelligible. “I’m sorry I let them laugh. I’m sorry I left you alone. I thought I was protecting you—I thought it would be worse if they knew—”

His shoulders shook.

“I killed you in silence. I watched you fade and I still stayed quiet. What kind of alpha does that? What kind of—what kind of mate—hurts the person they love just to look strong?”

He looked up, face streaked with tears.

Eyes bloodshot.

Desperate.

“I would give everything—everything—to go back and choose you out loud. But I can’t. And now you look at me like I’m a stranger.”

Jin’s lips parted.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then softly—

“You're not a stranger.”

Taehyung froze.

Jin’s fingers—trembling—reached out.

Touched his cheek.

“I just… I didn’t know how to believe you again.”

Taehyung leaned into the touch like it was air.

“You don’t have to,” he whispered. “Not yet. Just—just let me love you. Even if you can’t love me back.”

Jin was quiet.

Then:

“I never stopped.”

---

After

That night, Jin stayed awake for hours, curled against Taehyung’s chest, listening to his heartbeat.

Taehyung whispered stories to their unborn child.

And Jin—

For the first time in a long time—

Listened.

Not just with ears.

But with something buried deep inside him.

Something small.

And breaking through the frost.

Hope.

Chapter Text

Jin stepped outside for the first time in months.

The air was cold.

Not sharp—but cold enough to make him flinch.

The front of Taehyung’s private estate in Gangnam was surrounded by a black gate taller than any man, guarded, protected, sealed.

But even here—even behind metal and money and silence—he trembled.

He wasn’t ready.

Eyes watched from rooftops. Phones lingered from far-off windows. Whispers traveled on air he could not control.

And he still remembered their words.

“The charity case.” “The hidden pet.” “Pretty, but stupid.”

But then—

A hand gripped his.

Firm.

Possessive.

Warm.

“Let them look,” Taehyung murmured, voice low and dark. “I want them to.”

Jin turned, startled.

And saw him.

Not the masked CEO.

Not the silent Alpha from the tabloids.

But the real Taehyung.

Eyes like fire.

Pulse like thunder.

His Alpha.

---

The Announcement

They arrived at the foundation’s charity gala in full view.

No side doors.

No PR team ahead of them.

Just Taehyung, in a custom black suit, and Jin, draped in deep burgundy silk that clung gently to his slight curve.

Taehyung didn’t let go of his hand once.

Not when they walked through the crowd.

Not when the cameras exploded in flashes.

And not when the first sneering executive leaned forward and muttered:

“You brought him? Really?”

Taehyung didn’t respond with words.

He turned, slowly, and smiled.

Then—

He growled.

Low.

Primal.

The sound made the entire table go still.

A warning shot.

A territorial threat.

And then he said:

“That’s not ‘him.’ That’s my omega. Speak again, and I’ll make sure your last name disappears from every contract in Seoul.”

---

The Display

They danced.

For the world to see.

Taehyung held Jin close, hand firm on his waist, chin brushing the curve of his temple.

People watched.

They didn’t whisper this time.

They stared.

And Jin?

Jin let them.

Because in Taehyung’s arms, under that crushing, terrifying, consuming protection—he felt invisible to the rest of the world.

For the first time in months—

He didn’t feel small.

He felt wanted.

---

Later That Night

Back home, Taehyung was quiet.

Too quiet.

He sat on the edge of their bed, fists clenched.

Jin stepped forward. “You’re angry.”

“Not at you.”

“I know.”

Taehyung looked up.

And something unhinged flickered in his eyes.

“I wanted to kill him,” he whispered. “That man at the table. I wanted to rip his throat out for the way he looked at you.”

Jin moved closer.

“You didn’t.”

“I could’ve.”

“I know.”

Taehyung’s voice cracked.

“I want to burn the world for you. I will, if it ever touches you again.”

He stood, hands trembling.

“My love for you—it’s not gentle, Jin. It’s not soft. It’s violent. It’s endless. I look at you and I see everything I’ll kill to protect.”

Jin pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the erratic, wild heartbeat there.

“I’m not afraid of that,” he whispered. “I think… I need it.”

Taehyung leaned in, forehead to forehead.

Breath to breath.

“Then it’s yours,” he growled. “The monster. The alpha. Everything.”

---

The Seal

Before dawn, he made it official.

A mark.

Deep.

Permanent.

Not hidden behind skin or tied with silk, but burned into the side of Jin’s neck in the full presence of the estate’s staff and elders.

A traditional claiming.

Outdated.

Controversial.

Unmistakable.

By morning, the world knew.

Jin wasn’t a secret.

He wasn’t a shame.

He was Taehyung’s.

And no one would ever forget it again.

Chapter Text

The world outside still watched.

But the estate was silent.

Safe.

For the first time in months, no cameras waited at the gate. No names trended. No knives hid in whispers.

Just the sound of two people trying to find each other again.

---

Morning Light

Jin woke first.

Sunlight spilled across the linen sheets, soft and golden.

Taehyung was still asleep beside him—barely.

His breathing was steady, but one hand gripped Jin’s wrist, even in sleep.

As if letting go, even for a moment, might cost him everything.

Jin smiled faintly.

He shifted closer, curled into the Alpha’s chest, and whispered:

“I’m still here.”

Taehyung’s arms tightened instinctively.

---

The Kitchen

Breakfast was chaotic.

Jin insisted on cooking.

Taehyung hovered like a bodyguard with a mixing spoon.

“You need rest.”

“I need to crack this egg, Alpha.”

“You can’t even lift the pan—give it to me—”

“You’ll ruin it, you barbarian.”

“Barbarian?”

“Culinary one.”

Jin giggled when Taehyung pouted.

The pancake was burnt.

But it was the first time they’d laughed in what felt like centuries.

And it tasted like home.

---

The Bath

Later that afternoon, Jin lingered in the tub too long.

Taehyung sat beside the edge, sleeves rolled up, carefully washing his back.

“You used to flinch when I touched you,” he murmured.

Jin leaned his head back, eyes closed.

“I used to flinch when anyone did.”

Taehyung was quiet.

Then he kissed the spot between Jin’s shoulder blades.

“I’ll never take that trust for granted.”

Jin turned, cupped his Alpha’s face in wet fingers, and whispered:

“I want your touch now.”

It broke something open in Taehyung’s chest.

Gentle hands replaced soap.

Steam curled around them like a cocoon.

There was no fire, no heat, no claiming—

Just soft kisses.

And healing.

---

The Nest

That night, Jin made a nest.

Not one of instinct.

One of love.

Pillows and blankets, carefully arranged in the sitting room. Moonlight filtered through the glass.

He waited until Taehyung found it.

“Come here,” he said softly, patting the space beside him.

The Alpha obeyed instantly.

They lay tangled together in the cocoon of fabric and scent.

Taehyung ran his fingers along the swell of Jin’s stomach.

“You’re glowing.”

“I’m terrified.”

“That’s okay,” Taehyung whispered. “I’ll be brave enough for both of us.”

Jin smiled sleepily.

And for the first time in a long time—

He believed him.

Chapter Text

The first kick came quietly.

No dramatic gasp. No movie-perfect scene.

Just Jin sitting by the window, cradling a warm cup of tea, when something inside him fluttered.

He froze.

Then touched his stomach.

“…oh.”

---

The Awakening

“Taehyung,” Jin called, soft and stunned.

The Alpha appeared within seconds, shirt wrinkled, hair a mess from rushing.

“What happened? What’s wrong? Is it pain?”

“No,” Jin whispered, eyes wide. “No—it’s not pain.”

He reached out and placed Taehyung’s hand on the gentle swell of his stomach.

They waited.

And waited.

Then—kick.

Small.

Almost shy.

But real.

“Oh,” Taehyung breathed, voice cracking. “They’re real.”

---

The Appointments

After that, everything changed.

Taehyung accompanied Jin to every prenatal appointment, glaring at every doctor like they were about to perform heart surgery.

“Don’t touch him without asking first.”

“He needs a softer blanket on the bed.”

“Why is that needle that big?”

“Why is the room that cold?”

Jin giggled through all of it.

“Taehyung,” he said one day, squeezing his hand. “You’re more nervous than I am.”

“I can’t carry him for you,” Taehyung murmured. “So I need to do everything else.”

---

The Anxiety

But not every day was light.

Some nights, Jin would wake up drenched in sweat, clutching his stomach.

“What if I’m not strong enough?” he whispered one night, voice shaking. “What if the trauma... what if it hurt the baby?”

Taehyung pulled him close, lips to his forehead.

“You are strong enough.”

“You’ve seen me at my weakest.”

“And I loved you through it. We survived it. And now—” he placed his palm on the baby bump, “—so will they.”

---

The Nesting

Jin began nesting in earnest.

Books. Blankets. A pile of soft toys.

Everything neutral-toned, soft-textured, and overly researched.

Taehyung helped him rearrange it seven times.

“You realize this baby’s not going to remember what order the pillows were in?”

Jin huffed.

“I’ll remember.”

Taehyung smiled and leaned over, kissing the curve of his stomach.

“I think they’ll love it. Because it smells like home.”

---

The Name

One night, curled up under the stars on the estate’s rooftop, Jin asked:

“Have you thought about names?”

Taehyung nodded.

“Only if you like them too.”

“Tell me.”

“Hyun. If it’s a boy. Meaning ‘virtuous.’ Or Haneul. If it’s a girl. ‘Heaven.’”

Jin’s eyes filled with tears.

“They’re beautiful.”

“Like you.”

---

The Bonding

Taehyung began talking to the bump every night.

Telling stories.

Reading books.

Once, he even sang a lullaby.

Jin watched him with silent awe.

For a man so feared, so ruthless, so cold to the world—his voice became something sacred when he spoke to their child.

Jin whispered once, “You never had a father like this.”

Taehyung’s gaze darkened with quiet pain.

“No,” he said. “But mine will.”

Chapter Text

The phone call came at 2:14 a.m.

Taehyung answered on the first ring.

“Jin?”

But it wasn’t Jin’s voice.

It was the head nurse from the estate's private clinic.

“Mr. Kim… your omega collapsed. He’s stable now, but we’ve had to transfer him to the medical suite. You need to come home.”

The phone slipped from his hand before the words even finished.

---

Eight Hours Earlier

Jin had insisted he was fine.

“Just a bit tired. He’s moving a lot lately,” he’d smiled, palm pressed gently to the swell of his belly.

He made tea. Tucked himself into the sofa. Waited for Taehyung’s video call.

But halfway through the call, Taehyung noticed it.

“Your color’s off. You’re sweating.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not—”

And then the screen went black.

---

Chaos

Jin had woken up on a hospital bed.

White lights. Machines beeping. Warmth clutched to his stomach as if instinct alone could protect the life inside.

“Where is—” he croaked.

“Your Alpha’s been notified,” someone said gently. “We’re monitoring both of you.”

Jin’s vision swam.

He couldn’t breathe.

He didn’t want to cry, but it came out anyway. Guttural, aching sobs that cracked his already fragile spirit.

Not again.

Not alone again.

---

The Flight

Taehyung didn’t wait for clearance.

Didn’t finish his speech.

Didn’t care about protocol.

He left his executives screaming behind him, chartered a private jet, and flew home in a suit stained with spilled wine and his own panic.

He didn’t sleep.

Didn’t blink.

He just kept repeating one thing under his breath like a prayer:

“Hold on, Jin. Hold on. I’m coming.”

---

The Return

It was raining when he landed.

By the time he reached the clinic, the guards had cleared the hallways. No cameras. No distractions.

He stormed in like a storm itself.

Jin was awake.

Pale.

Hooked to monitors.

He looked up—and for a heartbeat—Taehyung saw fear in his eyes.

Not of him.

But of what could’ve been.

Then Jin whispered, “You came.”

Taehyung dropped to his knees at his bedside and gathered him into his arms so tightly the monitors protested.

“I’m never leaving again,” he choked. “Not for a second. If I can’t take you, I’m not going. I don’t care if it’s the UN summit or the end of the world. You come first. You always come first.”

Jin’s voice cracked.

“I was so scared, Tae.”

Taehyung kissed every part of him he could reach—forehead, temple, shaking hands, the slight curve of his belly.

“I should’ve known better,” he whispered. “You’re not fragile because you’re weak. You’re fragile because you’re holding so much.”

---

The Truth

The doctor entered quietly.

He looked exhausted.

“There was strain on the uterine wall,” he explained. “It’s stabilizing now, but the omega’s body is under significant stress. Emotional trauma increases hormone volatility—”

Taehyung cut in.

“What do we need to do?”

“Bed rest. No travel. No spikes in cortisol. Absolute calm for the next few weeks. And Alpha scent proximity. It regulates omega distress levels.”

“Then he’s not leaving my side,” Taehyung growled. “Not even for a second.”

Jin turned to him, tears returning.

“I thought you’d be angry.”

“I’m furious.”

Jin flinched.

“At myself,” Taehyung corrected, voice trembling. “For not keeping you safe. For being too far when you needed me. For not tearing down every wall between us sooner.”

---

That Night

Taehyung stayed in the clinic bed with Jin.

Holding him.

Scenting him.

Whispering lullabies and apologies.

Jin eventually fell asleep.

And Taehyung?

He stayed awake.

Watching the monitors.

One hand on Jin’s belly.

The other gripping Jin’s wrist like he could anchor him to life.

“I won’t fail you again,” he whispered to the sleeping form in his arms.

“To either of you.”

Chapter Text

No one was allowed to help.

Not even the head maid.

Not the private interior designer he once hired to decorate the estate.

Not the butler who had practically raised him.

“I’ll do it,” Taehyung said simply.

And that was that.

---

The Room

It had once been an office.

Dark wood. Black furniture. Cold light.

Now?

Taehyung stripped it bare.

He pulled the curtains down himself. Rolled the rug. Tossed the heavy desk out with a grunt.

“You don’t belong here,” he muttered to it. “Not in their space.”

He painted the walls in the middle of the night—soft ivory, nearly cream.

His hands were streaked with color.

His chest, with scent.

He kept the door closed when he worked, so Jin wouldn’t smell the emotion bleeding out of him.

But it filled the house anyway.

Regret.

Hope.

A desperate kind of love.

---

The Gathering

Taehyung didn’t know the full rituals of nesting—not really.

He wasn’t raised that way.

But he remembered fragments from books, overheard stories.

So he gathered:

Jin’s favorite sweaters, even the worn ones.

Pillows that still smelled faintly of their first home.

The book Jin had read to the baby aloud before the scare.

A tiny plush whale, because Jin once said he dreamed of the sea.

And then—

Taehyung took off his own jacket.

Wrapped it around the softest blanket.

And placed it in the center of the nest.

So the baby would always know their Alpha was near.

---

The Break

He broke down in the middle of arranging the last corner.

Just... dropped to his knees in the silence and cried.

For the time he’d wasted.

For the way he’d hidden Jin.

For every second Jin had doubted if he was loved.

He pressed his face into one of the pillows.

Breathed in their mingled scent.

“I was so blind,” he whispered. “But I see you now. I see everything.”

---

The Invitation

He didn’t tell Jin it was done.

He didn’t announce it or stage a reveal.

He just walked into the bedroom that night, quietly picked Jin up in his arms, and carried him down the hall.

Jin blinked, confused. “Where are we—”

Taehyung nudged the door open with his foot.

“Home.”

---

The Omega’s Tears

The room smelled like comfort.

Like almond, sandalwood, morning rain, and Taehyung.

It wasn’t polished.

It wasn’t perfect.

Some of the cushions didn’t match. The canopy was a little crooked. A few plush toys had fallen.

But Jin walked to the center of it in silence.

Then sank to his knees and ran his hands along the fabric, the scattered items, the lovingly placed scent cloths.

He pressed his face to the pile.

And sobbed.

“I never thought you’d make a nest for me.”

“I didn’t know how,” Taehyung said, kneeling beside him. “But I knew you.”

Jin turned, eyes red, and whispered—

“This is the safest I’ve ever felt.”

---

The Embrace

That night, they didn’t sleep in their bedroom.

They curled up in the center of the nest.

Jin, belly nestled between them.

Taehyung’s hand never left him.

Not once.

Not even in sleep.

And when their pup kicked—twice, strong and certain—Taehyung laughed into Jin’s skin, whispering,

“Looks like he approves.”

Chapter Text

The ceremony was secret.

But not hidden.

Taehyung didn’t call the press.

Didn’t announce it to the world.

But he didn’t keep it in the dark this time.

This wasn’t shame.

This was sacred.

---

The Ritual Room

They chose the inner sanctum of the estate—an old tea house on the far edge of the land, surrounded by tall white willows and blooming nightflowers.

Jin wore white silk robes, sheer at the edges, tied loosely around his bump.

Taehyung wore a ceremonial dark cloak, gold-threaded, with his family’s crest removed.

He didn’t want legacy in that room.

Only truth.

---

The Vow

There were no witnesses.

Just candlelight. Heat. Breath.

Taehyung knelt before him.

“I marked you once in selfishness,” he said, voice low. “And still... you stayed.”

He lowered his eyes.

“This time—I ask.”

Jin reached forward, touched his face.

“I give.”

Taehyung leaned forward, pressed his forehead to Jin’s.

Then said the ancient vow:

“In strength, I protect.
In scent, I surround.
In soul, I bind.
And in every life we may live… I will find you again.”

Jin echoed it, voice trembling.

And that’s when the bond flared.

---

The Soul Mark

It wasn’t just a scent exchange.

Not just a bite.

It was soul-deep.

Energy. Heat. Memory.

A fusion of pain, healing, love, grief, and the new life pulsing between them.

Taehyung bit gently at the base of Jin’s neck—not to claim, but to seal.

Jin gasped, eyes wide as the bond surged.

Searing gold.

A thread tugged between their hearts.

And for the first time since the beginning—

Jin felt truly, completely, his.

Not hidden.
Not silenced.
Not broken.

Chosen.

---

The Afterglow

They lay wrapped in robes and silks on the polished floor, surrounded by soft scent markers.

Jin rested his head on Taehyung’s chest, listening to the strong heartbeat.

“You’re mine now,” Jin whispered.

Taehyung smiled, kissing his temple.

“I always was.”

---

The Name

Before the night ended, Taehyung placed a gentle hand on Jin’s bump.

“Will you let me give him my name?”

Jin looked up, eyes wide.

“You want him to be your heir?”

“I want him to be our beginning.”

Jin nodded, tears in his eyes.

“Then let him be Kim Haneul.”

Heaven.

Because that's where they’d finally arrived.

Chapter Text

The rain came first.

Thin, silver threads slicing across the sky, steady and soft like lullabies. Jin stood by the nursery window, one hand cradling his belly, the other resting over Taehyung’s mark.

He was glowing. Not just in the pregnancy way—but in the soul-deep, love-made-real way.

And yet, something felt off.

A cramp. Sharp. Then another.

He didn’t scream.

Just whispered, “Tae…”

Taehyung was there before the second syllable.

---

The ambulance was ready, but they didn’t need it.

The estate’s clinic was prepped. The doctor had been on call for weeks. Taehyung had memorized every emergency number twice over.

But nothing prepares you for the moment your omega cries out in pain—and it’s your child tearing its way into the world.

Jin gripped his hand, sweat dotting his brow, and said, “Don’t leave.”

Taehyung’s voice cracked. “Never.”

The hours stretched like centuries. Jin bled. Screamed. Trembled.

And Taehyung wept, openly, holding his omega as if his body alone could take away the pain.

---

Then—
A sound.

A cry.

Raw, loud, furious.

Alive.

The doctor lifted the tiny bundle, wrapped him in white, and said, smiling through tears:

“He’s strong.”

Taehyung collapsed to his knees.

Jin sobbed.

And when they placed the baby in his arms, something inside Jin that had been holding its breath for years—finally exhaled.

---

“Welcome home,” Jin whispered to his son.

Taehyung leaned in, pressing a kiss to both their foreheads.

“Kim Haneul,” he said. “You are loved beyond reason.”

Outside, the rain kept falling.

But in the nursery—

Heaven had arrived.

Chapter Text

Spring arrived shyly.

The estate’s gardens bloomed late that year, but fiercely. Like even the flowers had waited for Jin to smile again.

And smile he did—softly, often, always while holding Haneul close.

Taehyung never let go of them.

Not really.

He carried his son more than anyone else. Sang lullabies with a voice once feared in boardrooms. Kissed Jin’s forehead every night like it was prayer.

And when Haneul smiled for the first time—it wasn’t for Taehyung.

It was for Jin.

Taehyung didn’t mind.

He cried anyway.

---

They never returned to the world the way they once knew it.

They didn’t need to.

The world, instead, adjusted around them.

Kim Taehyung no longer hosted galas. He built foundations—for omega shelters, for mental health, for safe pregnancies.

He named the biggest one after his mate:

The Seokjin Sanctuary.

People whispered.

Then, they bowed.

Because love—when done right—demands reverence.

---

One evening, months later, Jin sat beneath the willows with Haneul asleep on his chest.

Taehyung approached, a basket in hand. Inside, a small cake, a worn photo, a pressed violet.

“It’s the anniversary,” he said gently. “Of the day I gave you my card.”

Jin laughed. “And I thought you were going to kidnap me.”

“I kind of did.”

They sat in silence for a while.

Then Jin looked at him.

Eyes clear. Voice steady.

“I was broken when I met you.”

Taehyung’s smile trembled. “And now?”

Jin leaned in. “Now I’m yours.”

---

Later that night, they danced barefoot in the nursery.

Haneul gurgled from his crib, lulled by the sight of two souls who’d once been torn apart—finding music again in each other.

Outside, the willows swayed.

Inside, love bloomed.

And in a world that had once tried to silence him, Jin finally whispered the words he had always deserved to say:

“I am not a secret. I am not a shame. I am home.”