Work Text:
The first sign was the shift in his own scent, clean florals altered into something deeper and undeniably consequential.
He was sweating through his shirt, his pulse drumming a frantic rhythm in his throat.
Not here. Not now. Not at 4:00pm on a Friday, he pleaded internally.
He got called into the office. It was the Boss. Hyuntak hovered a trembling hand over the door handle before walking in.
“Go Hyuntak,” the Boss’s voice boomed. “Listen, we’ve got a new hire starting Monday. I’m putting him under you as you’re the only one with the patience to train him. But before you leave today…” The Boss paused, and Hyuntak heard a faint sniff. “Go see Juntae at the front desk. Your scent is hitting the vents. You’re a liability for the rest of the day.”
Hyuntak’s face turned to embarrassment, a shade of crimson that rivaled his hair.
He practically crawled to the front desk. Juntae, his best friend and the only person who kept this office from spiraling, didn’t even look up from his monitor as Hyuntak approached.
“I already smelled you coming from the elevator, Hyuntak,” Juntae said, finally looking up with a sympathetic wince. He pulled up a digital form. “I’ll put you down for ‘Emergency Medical Leave.’ But seriously? You’re still doing this solo?”
“I don’t have time for a partner, Juntae,” Hyuntak hissed, gripping the edge of the desk.
“Then use the SyncWell app,” Juntae whispered, sliding a sticky note across the counter. “It’s high-security, compatibility-based, and it links you with Alphas who have verified health clearances. It’s better than suffering alone.”
Hyuntak barely made it home. He didn’t even bother with dinner, he just stripped and sank into a lukewarm bath to dull the ache in his bones, and pulled up the app Juntae had recommended.
He filled out his profile with shaky fingers. Five minutes later, a notification pinged.
Match Found: 98.7% Compatibility
Alias: S.J.
Status: Available for immediate Heat-Support.
Hyuntak didn’t even look at the photo of said person. He just saw the high percentage and the fact that the alpha was only ten minutes away from the app’s designated “Heat Suites” - a luxury hotel used specifically for these arrangements. He hit Accept.
The suite smelt of something sharp, like an approaching storm. Hyuntak was already a mess of heat and instinct by the time the door opened.
The Alpha was tall, with a presence that felt like a physical weight in the room. Hyuntak was too far gone to ask for a name. Seongje didn’t say much; he just walked over, his eyes glowing with an intensity that made Hyuntak’s knees buckle.
“You’re the 98%?” Seongje’s voice was a low growl.
“Just… help me,” Hyuntak gasped, reaching out for the Alpha.
The night was a blur of tension and instinct, of pheromones and proximity, leaving Hyuntak drained in ways he hadn’t expected.
It wasn’t about the act, but the way his body had surrendered, the way the Alpha had been there, present, grounding and extremely overwhelming.
By the time Hyuntak woke up in the massive suite bed on Sunday afternoon, he was alone. The app session had been closed and wiped for privacy reasons.
He felt different. Not just the post-heat glow, but a strange feeling pooling in his gut.
He brushed it off as exhaustion, straightened his tie, and walked into the office, ready to meet the new hire he had to mentor.
The Boss was standing by the window with a man in a sharp, grey suit.
“Hyuntak! Glad you’re feeling better,” the Boss cheered. “Meet your new subordinate. This is Keum Seongje.”
Hyuntak froze. Fear had hit him like a freight train. Standing there, looking perfectly professional and utterly cold, was the Alpha from the app.
Seongje smirked, a dangerous flicker of a smile. “Looking forward to working under you, Mr. Go.”
The week following Seongje’s arrival was like a slow-motion car crash.
Hyuntak tried to be a “cool supervisor” but every time Seongje leaned over his desk to hand him a report, that familiar scent filled Hyuntak’s lungs.
Worst of all? Seongje acted like he’d hadn't seen Hyuntak naked. He was perfectly polite.
“You’re jittering,” Juntae said, leaning against the breakroom counter as Hyuntak aggressively stirred a cup of black coffee.
“I’m fine. I’m caffeinated,” Hyuntak snapped.
Juntae adjusted his glasses, his eyes narrowing. “You haven’t touched your lunch in three days. And you’re wearing a scent blocker and a turtle neck jumper. It’s seventy five degrees in this office, Hyuntak.”
Hyuntak froze, the spoon clinking against the ceramic table. “It’s just.. post-heat sensitivity. My skin is just reacting.”
“Right. And the fact that the new guy looks like he’s tracking your every move like a bodyguard has nothing to do with it?” Juntae stepped closer, lowering his voice. “He’s the one from the app, isn’t he?”
Hyuntak shoved the coffee away, his stomach doing a somersault at the smell of roasted beans. “It was a one time thing, Juntae. He’s my subordinate now. End of story.”
“Is it?” Juntae asked, nodding toward the door.
Seongje was standing there, holding a stack of files. He didn’t look at Juntae; his eyes went straight to Hyuntak. “Mr. Go? You missed our 10:00am briefing. I brought the files here so we wouldn’t fall behind.”
Juntae gave Hyuntak a ‘Good luck with that’ look and slipped out, leaving them alone in the tension filled room.
Seongje didn’t stay by the door. He walked right into Hyuntak’s space, placing the files on the counter. He didn’t touch Hyuntak, but the heat radiating off him was undeniable.
“You look pale, Hyuntak,” Seongje said. Throwing out the “Mr. Go” formality. His voice was the same low, husky tone from the suite.
“I’m just busy. Go back to your desk, Keum,” Hyuntak muttered, trying to sidestep him.
Seongje blocked his path, a hand catching the corner of the table. He leaned down, his nose drifting dangerously close to the scent blocker on Hyuntak’s neck. He took a deep, slow breath.
“The app said we were a near perfect match,” Seongje whispered. “You don’t just ‘forget’ that because you put on a tie. You smell… different today. Sweeter.”
Hyuntak’s heart hammered a frantic, fluttering beat. “I told you, it’s over. Work is work.”
“Then why,” Seongje’s hand moved, his thumb brushing against the side of Hyuntak’s stomach “is your body already reacting to me?”
Hyuntak felt a rush of dizziness. It wasn’t just nerves. It was a heavy ache deep in his core. He pushed Seongje’s hand away, but his grip was weak.
“Get out,” Hyuntak managed, though it sounded more like a plea than a command.
Seongje straightened up, his expression unreadable, though his eyes lingered on Hyuntak’s midsection for a second too long. “As you wish, Boss. But you should eat something. You’re glowing… and like not in the way people do when they’re healthy.”
Hyuntak told himself it was stress. That was the only explanation that made sense.
Stress explained the nausea, the dizziness, why the smell of coffee suddenly made his stomach twist like he’d swallowed metal.
It did not explain why he’d woken up at 3:17am with his hand pressed unconsciously to his lower abdomen.
He stood in his apartment bathroom, staring at his reflection. The fluorescent light was unkind. His skin looked dull. Brighter. Almost luminous.
“I’m fine,” he told the mirror.
His scent had changed.
It wasn’t dramatic. But to himself? It was obvious. The floral edge of post-heat had mellowed into something warmer and heavier.
He’d chosen not to think about that part.
At work the next morning, he avoided the breakroom entirely. The smell of brewed coffee and heated leftovers made bile creep up his throat. He claimed he had a “client call” and locked himself in his office instead.
A soft knock.
He stiffened.
“Mr. Go,” Seongje’s voice filtered through the door. “You skipped lunch again.”
“I’m busy,” Hyuntak replied sharply.
There was a pause.
Then, quieter: “You smell different.”
His pulse spiked so violently he had to sit down.
“Go back to your desk, Keum.”
Another pause. Longer this time.
“As you wish.”
Footsteps retreated.
Hyuntak waited until he couldn’t hear them anymore before his composure cracked.
He slid his hand down to his stomach again, pressing lightly.
His throat tightened.
It’s too early, he told himself.
Too early for anything.
Two Weeks Later :
Juntae found Hyuntak in the bathroom, hunched over a sink, splashing cold water on his face.
“Okay, that’s it,” Juntae said, shutting the door and locking it. “You’ve fainted twice, and you’ve been eating nothing but saltine crackers and green apples. Give me your hand.”
“Juntae, I’m just—”
“Give me your hand!” Juntae grabbed Hyuntak’s wrist, pressing two fingers to his pulse point.
As the office’s unofficial mum, Juntae had a knack for sensing shifts in a person. His face went dead pale. “Hyuntak… when was your last suppression check?”
Hyuntak stared at his reflection. His skin was translucent, his eyes bright with a feverish light, and his scent, despite the blockers was beginning to change.
It was no longer the floral scent of an Omega in heat. It was something richer.
“I haven’t had my period since the suite,” Hyuntak whispered, the reality finally crashing down. “Juntae… the app. It was supposed to be safe.”
“98.7% compatibility, Hyuntak,” Juntae breathed, looking horrified and impressed at the same time. “That’s not a match. That’s a biological mandate. You’re pregnant.”
The door handle rattled.
“Mr. Go? Are you in there?” Seongje’s voice echoed through the wood. “I have the quarterly projections… and I brought you a ginger tea. You seemed nauseous.”
The next few weeks were a game of high stakes hide-and-seek. Hyuntak started wearing oversized blazers and hoodies under the excuse of “the office AC being too high,” and he began hoarding saltine crackers in his desk drawer like a squirrel preparing for winter.
But Seongje wasn’t stupid. In fact, he was becoming a nightmare.
Every time Hyuntak tried to lift a box of printer paper, Seongje was suddenly there, his hand clamping over Hyuntak’s before he could even bend his knees.
“I’ll handle that, Mr. Go,” Seongje would say, his voice dropping into that chest vibrating register that made Hyuntak’s stomach flip not from nausea this time, but from a strange, heart fluttering warmth.
“It’s just paper, Keum! I’m your boss, not a Victorian child!” Hyuntak snapped, tugging his blazer down to hide the slight, soft curve starting to form at his waist.
Seongje didn’t move. He stood so close that Hyuntak could feel the alphas scent. Seongje’s eyes dropped to Hyuntak’s midsection, his pupils blown wide. “You shouldn’t be straining. Your scent… it’s heavy. It’s distracting the whole floor.”
“Then go work in the lobby!” Hyuntak hissed, scurrying back to his office and slamming the door behind him.
Juntae walked into Hyuntak’s office an hour later, tossing a bag of expensive takeout on the desk. “Seongje bought this for you. He said you looked ‘fragile’ today.”
Hyuntak looked at the bag. It was steamed ginger chicken and white rice, exactly what his stomach had been craving for the past three hours. “I hate him. I actually hate him so much.”
“You’re literally salivating, Hyuntak,” Juntae sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “Look, he knows. Maybe not logically yet, but his alpha is already nesting. He’s spent the last forty minutes checking anyone who goes near your door.”
“He can’t know,” Hyuntak whispered, shoving a piece of chicken into his mouth. “If he finds out, he’ll think I trapped him. Or worse, he’ll try to take over my life. I have a career Juntae! I have a five year plan!”
“Your five-year plan currently has a heartbeat,” Juntae pointed out dryly.
The breaking point came on a rainy Tuesday. The elevator was cramped, packed with people from the marketing department. Hyuntak was squeezed into the back corner, feeling particularly dizzy from the mix of everyone’s diffrent scents.
Suddenly, a large, warm presence backed into him.
It was Seongje. He didn’t turn around, but he reached back, his hand subtly finding Hyuntak’s and threading their fingers together behind their backs. The contact was electric. A scent of Alpha pheromones hit Hyuntaks nose calming and deeply possessive.
Hyuntak’s body betrayed him instantly. He leaned his forehead against Seongje’s broad back, closing his eyes as the nausea vanished, replaced by a sense of absolute safety.
Just for a second, Hyuntak thought. I’ll let him protect me for just a second.
But then the elevator cleared. The doors slid open at their floor, and Seongje didn’t let go. He led Hyuntak out into the hallway, pulling him toward the darkened supply closet.
He pushed Hyuntak inside and clicked the lock.
“Hyuntak,” Seongje growled, his hands coming up to cup Hyuntak’s face. His thumbs brushed over Hyuntak’s cheekbones. “Stop lying to me. Your scent blockers are failing because your hormones are too high. You aren’t ‘sick.’ You’re pregnant aren’t you.”
Hyuntak’s breath hitched. He tried to look away, but Seongje’s grip was firm.
“Is it mine?” Seongje asked, his eyes burning with a mix of awe and terrifying intensity.
“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hyuntak stammered, his heart racing. He tried to shove Seongje’s chest, but it was like pushing against a brick wall. “Move, Keum. That’s an order.”
Seongje didn’t budge. Instead, he leaned in, his nose brushing against Hyuntak’s temple. “You’re lying. Your scent… it’s screaming at me to protect you. Why are you hiding it?”
“Because I don’t need a babysitter!” Hyuntak yelled, his voice cracking. “I’m the boss! I’m supposed to be in control, and now I’m… I’m…”
Suddenly, the room spun. A sharp, pulling cramp bloomed in Hyuntak’s lower abdomen. His knees buckled instinctively.
“Hyuntak?” Seongje’s voice lost its edge, replaced by pure panic.
Hyuntak slumped, his hands clutching his stomach as a cold sweat broke out across his forehead. “Wait… something’s wrong.”
In an instant Seongje caught him before he hit the floor, sweeping him up into his arms like he weighed nothing.
“Juntae!” Seongje roared, kicking the closet door open so hard it hit the wall with a loud bang.
The entire office went silent. Every head turned. There was Go Hyuntak, the terrifying manager, looking pale and fragile in the arms of the new hire.
Juntae was on his feet in a second, knocking over his chair. “What happened?! Did he faint?”
“He’s cramping,” Seongje said, he didn’t care about the gossiping coworkers or the HR nightmare he was creating. “I’m taking him to the clinic. Now.”
“I can walk,” Hyuntak wheezed, though he was actually clinging to Seongje’s shirt so hard his knuckles were white.
“Shut up, Hyuntak,” Seongje and Juntae said in unison.
An hour later, Hyuntak was sitting on a crinkly paper covered exam bed. The doctor had already finished the ultrasound, confirming that the “cramp” was just a result of extreme stress and a lack of proper nutrition.
The baby was fine. A tiny heartbeat was thumping away on the monitor.
Seongje was standing in the corner of the room, his arms crossed, looking at the screen with an expression that could only be described as reverent and protective.
He looked like he wanted to punch something and cry at the same time.
“He needs rest,” the doctor said, looking between the two men. “And he needs to stop wearing scent blockers. They’re irritating his system. His Alpha needs to scent mark him properly to keep his stress levels down.”
The doctor left, and the silence in the room was heavy.
Seongje walked over to the bed. He didn’t ask for permission this time. He sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled Hyuntak toward him, tucking Hyuntak’s head into the crook of his neck.
Hyuntak tried to resist for about three seconds before he went limp, his nose burying into Seongje’s skin. The relief was instantaneous. The ache in his stomach vanished.
“You’re an idiot,” Seongje whispered into his hair, his hand resting firmly, protectively over Hyuntak’s bump. “Did you really think I’d let you do this alone?”
“I didn’t want to be a burden,” Hyuntak mumbled against his skin.
“You’re not a burden,” Seongje growled, his grip tightening just a fraction. “You’re mine. From now on, you don’t lift a finger without me seeing it. Clear?”
Hyuntak huffed, but he didn’t pull away. “You’re going to be a terrible subordinate if you keep talking to your boss like that.”
“I’m not your subordinate anymore, Hyuntak,” Seongje said, tilting Hyuntak’s chin up to look him in the eye. “I’m your Alpha. The office can figure it out.”
It was the monthly departmental review, and the conference room was packed. Hyuntak had spent twenty minutes in front of the mirror trying to hide the fact that his favorite suit trousers no longer buttoned.
He’d settled for an oversized sweater vest and a blazer, but at four months, the “bump” was no longer a suggestion.
The meeting had been going for two hours. Hyuntak was sitting at the head of the table, trying to focus, but his brain was stuck on one thing: Spicy Rice Cakes. Not just any rice cakes, the ones from the stall three blocks away that closed at 2:00 PM.
He checked his watch. It was 1:55 PM.
“And if we look at the logistics for the next quarter…” the Boss started.
A soft sniffle broke the silence.
Everyone turned. Hyuntak, the man known for firing people with a dry eye, was staring at his laptop with tears streaming down his face.
“Mr. Go?” the Boss asked, bewildered. “Is the data that bad?”
“They’re going to close,” Hyuntak sobbed, not even trying to hide it anymore. “I wanted them with the extra egg, and now the stall is going to close and my life is a hollow void.”
The room went dead silent. Juntae buried his face in his hands, muttering, “Oh no, here we go.”
Before the Boss could offer a tissue, Seongje was on his feet. He didn’t ask for permission. He walked straight to the head of the table, ignoring the shocked gasps of his coworkers.
“Meeting’s over,” Seongje announced, his voice booming with Alpha authority.
“Excuse me, Keum?” the Big Boss sputtered. “You’re a junior associate. Sit back down.”
Seongje didn’t even look at him. He leaned over Hyuntak, his hand automatically dropping to the Omega’s stomach, a gesture so intimate and possessive that several people in marketing actually gasped.
“I’ll be back in ten minutes with the rice cakes. With two eggs. Don’t move,” Seongje commanded, his thumb stroking over the curve of Hyuntak’s belly through the sweater.
Hyuntak looked up, his eyes red and watery. “And the pickled radish?”
“And the radish,” Seongje promised. He turned to the room, his eyes flashing a warning to anyone brave enough to judge. “My Omega needs to eat. If any of you have a problem with that, take it up with me after lunch.“
He turned to the Boss. “And he’s taking the rest of the day off. He’s tired.”
As Seongje stormed out of the room to hunt down the rice cakes, the silence was broken by a loud thud. The Boss had sat down, staring at the spot where Seongje’s hand had been.
“So…” one of the interns whispered. “Is Mr. Keum… the father?”
Hyuntak wiped his eyes, his professional mask slowly sliding back into place, even though his stomach was still leading the way.
“He’s the father,” Hyuntak said, his voice regaining its sharp edge. “And if anyone mentions the crying, I will personally ensure your holiday bonuses are redirected to my diaper fund. Meeting adjourned.”
Hyuntak was officially “round.” That was the word Juntae used, mostly because he knew Hyuntak couldn’t chase him fast enough to hit him anymore. At thirty eight weeks, Hyuntak felt less like a high-level manager and more like a very grumpy, very overheated planet.
To celebrate his last week before the due date, Seongje had agreed for them to go to a civilised dinner with Juntae at a quiet, upscale restaurant.
“You look like you’re about to pop,” Juntae noted, sipping his wine while Hyuntak glared at a glass of sparkling water.
“If one more person says that to me, I’m filing a lawsuit for harassment,” Hyuntak grumbled.
He shifted in his chair, a heavy pressure blooming in his lower back. “Seongje, stop staring at me like I’m a ticking time bomb.”
Seongje, who hadn’t touched his steak, was vibrating with tension. His Alpha instincts had been on a trigger for days. “You’re breathing differently.“
“It’s just the spicy pasta,” Hyuntak dismissed him, though a sudden, sharp tugging sensation made his fork clatter against the plate.
“Hyuntak?” Juntae asked, his eyes dropping to the floor.
A slow, steady puddle was forming under Hyuntak’s chair. The silence at the table was deafening for exactly three seconds.
“My water just broke,” Hyuntak whispered, his face going pale. “In a restaurant that has a Michelin star. This is so embarrassing.”
“IT’S HAPPENING!” Seongje roared, jumping to his feet so fast his chair flipped over and hit the floor with a crack.
The cool,calm and collected alpha persona Seongje had cultivated at the office evaporated instantly. He was a whirlwind of frantic energy.
“Juntae! Call the hospital! No, call the police! We need an escort!” Seongje shouted, scooping Hyuntak up into his arms before Hyuntak could even grab his coat.
“Seongje, put me down! People are looking!” Hyuntak hissed, his first real contraction hitting him like a freight train. “Okay-actually, don’t put me down. Just go!”
Seongje sprinted for the exit, nearly taking out a waiter with a tray full of appetizers. “Out of the way! Omega coming through! Emergency! Move!”
Juntae followed behind them, frantically trying to pay the bill and talk to the hospital at the same time. “Yes, we’re coming in! No, the Alpha is currently losing his mind! Have a tranquilizer ready for him! Not the patient, the Alpha!”
Fourteen hours later, the chaos of the restaurant was a faded memory. The hospital room was quiet and smelt of Seongje’s grounding scent.
Hyuntak was exhausted, his hair a mess of sweaty red curls, but he’d never looked more proud. Wrapped in a soft green blanket in his arms was a tiny, fussy bundle with a shock of dark hair and the same stubborn pout as his father.
Seongje was sitting on the edge of the bed, his large hand trembling as he reached out to touch the baby’s tiny fingers. He hadn’t stopped crying since the baby’s first cry, overwhelming tears of sheer devotion.
“He looks like you,” Hyuntak whispered, leaning his head back against the pillows.
“He has your spirit,” Seongje murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
He leaned forward, kissing Hyuntak’s forehead with a lingering, reverent pressure. “Thank you, Hyuntak. For… everything. For the app, for the office drama, for all of it.”
Hyuntak smirked, even in his exhaustion. “Does this mean I get a raise?”
Seongje chuckled, finally looking up with those burning, protective eyes. “You’re the Boss, Hyuntak. You’ve always been the Boss. I’m just the guy lucky enough to follow you home.”
One Month Later
The office doors swung open, and the usual morning chatter died down instantly.
Hyuntak walked in, looking sharp in a new, tailored blazer. Strapped to his chest in a hightech baby carrier was the newest member of the team.
Behind him, carrying two diaper bags, a laptop case, and a tray of coffees, was Seongje who looked perfectly content in his role as Senior Associate and Lead Bodyguard.
Juntae looked up from the front desk, a massive grin on his face. “Back to work, Mr. Go?”
Hyuntak adjusted the baby’s little hat and adjusted his glasses. “The nursery was getting boring. Besides, someone has to make sure Seongje actually files his reports on time.”
Seongje leaned over, kissing Hyuntak’s cheek in front of the entire staff, causing a wave of whispers. “Whatever the Boss says,” he whispered.