Chapter Text
“Kim Seokjin, we cannot keep meeting like this,” a booming voice sighs, cutting through the gossiping crowd. Murmurs begin to wind down as the spectators watch the scene unfold before them.
“Your Honour, have I told you that you’re my favourite judge of all time?” The schmooze is followed by a twinkling chuckle and a timed wink. Judge Kim Junmyeon fixes Seokjin with a steel glare.
“Flattery won’t get you out of this one, Seokjin. They’ve really messed up this time.”
Seokjin, standing behind the defence counsel’s table, rubs a hand behind his neck as he shoots a glare of his own at the two giggling scoundrels seated in the middle of the courtroom.
“Your Honour, my clients were merely acting as good Samaritans—”
“Your clients or your mates?” Junmyeon raises his brows at the three men at the front of his courtroom — Kim Seokjin, Jung Hoseok, and Jeon Jungkook. He peers behind them to find the rest of the troublesome pack — Kim Namjoon, Min Yoongi, Kim Taehyung, and Park Jimin — seated in the gallery without any concern for the gravity of the situation. Almost like they know the outcome.
“Your Honour, my clients, who happen to be my mates,” Seokjin continues, “were only acting to protect a young omega — who has willingly come forward as a witness for today’s hearing — against a brutish and aggressive alpha. They used reasonable—”
“Reasonable force, I know, I know.” Junmyeon waves him off. “It’s the same shit every week. Evil alpha harms little omega, Bangtan pack beats them up. Day in, day out.”
The judge breathes in deeply and then exhales, pinching the bridge of his nose. He can hear the gallery whispering, confused by the sudden change in routine. They all expect Hoseok and Jungkook to be let off, like Taehyung and Jimin were let off last week, or Yoongi the week before, or—
“Your pack cannot continue to operate in the same way that it always has. Something has to change.”
“Your Honour,” Seokjin begins, using his buttery bargaining voice, “I assure you, my mates are extremely apolo—”
“You need an omega.”
“What?!” Seven voices call out, all at once, followed by six bodies standing up from their seats. Seokjin merely braces himself on the table under him.
Junmyeon bangs the gavel, and they all settle down.
Seokjin clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably. It brings a smirk to the judge’s face and joy to his heart, knowing that he was able to off-centre the infamous Courtroom Prince Kim Seokjin.
“Ehem, Your Honour, what exactly do you mean?” Seokjin looks back at his six mates, all giving him varying expressions of what the fuck is happening, and he can only meet them with an equally perplexed look of his own.
“I mean, by the power vested in me by this court, I mandate that you, the Bangtan Pack, take on an omega. The intention is that introducing an omega to your all-alpha pack will help soften the edges and calm your alphas, so that you might not smash an alpha’s face into the wall, no matter how much they deserve it.”
“But Your Honour,” a different voice, Taehyung perhaps, interjects, “you can’t really make us take an ome—”
Junmyeon bangs the gavel again.
“I have ordered it so. You will report to the Ministry of Bonding for mandatory testing and pairing. Court is adjourned.”
“We can never love you,” is the first thing you hear when you sit down on a shiny leather couch in a very sterile room.
It has you physically reeling in your seat and furrowing your brows as you try to make sense of what was just said to you. Seven pairs of deep, dark eyes merely blink back at you, almost ominously.
“I’m sorry, what?”
You regard the seven alphas, all squished onto a much too small couch, with great skepticism. One day, you’re being served with papers to appear for testing at the Ministry of Bonding, and the next, you’re being told:
“We said, we can never love you.”
The voice is deceptively warm for the cold words it has put out into the world. This alpha — Kim Namjoon — sits in the centre of the group, clearly the pack alpha, as he doles out a harsh truth. Yet, you can’t find it in yourself to be offended or hurt because he tilts his head to the side like an overgrown puppy and flashes cute dimples, tarnishing any conceptions of a hard and cruel pack alpha.
A softer voice — Kim Seokjin — is quick to follow up with, “We require a particular arrangement, but if you agree, we will house you at our residence and provide you with all the necessities.” He slides a folder of documents across the table in front of you. “If you are our omega, you will want for nothing.”
“Except, for our love, of cour— Oof, hyung!” Jung Hoseok elbows a snickering Kim Taehyung, who is then soothed by a giggling Park Jimin, mouthing ignore him. You can only blink at their antics as the gears turn in your head.
You are sitting in front of the renowned Bangtan pack, co-founders of the largest entertainment company in South Korea — Bangtan Inc., in a pairing room at the Ministry of Bonding’s building.
They are acting very weird. The courts have decided this is your problem, somehow.
Great.
“She’s being awfully quiet, hyung, I don’t think she gets it.” Jeon Jungkook, fails to, whisper in Min Yoongi’s ear.
The older alpha hums pensively before speaking up. “We don’t want an omega, but the court thinks there’s too much testosterone in our pack. We just need someone to work their omega magic in our general vicinity, enough to calm our alphas, and that someone has to be happy with the fact that we won’t actually bond with them.”
“Omega… magic…?” You clamp your hands over your mouth, but the snort has already escaped you. This has to be a prank.
You spare a glance at the social worker sitting in the corner of the room, clearly preoccupied with something on her phone.
You look back at the alphas. Seven pairs of eyes blink back at you expectantly.
You think about it for a second.
This is kind of the perfect opportunity for you. You don’t necessarily want to take an alpha at this point in your life, but you have been compelled to be here. If the Bangtan pack also don’t want an omega, then isn’t this the ideal pairing? They could live their lives, and you could live yours, and you wouldn’t have anyone — your mother or your doctor — hounding you about it anymore.
“Sure,” you finally say.
“No harm, no foul.” Seokjin shakes his head side to side, as if he were sympathetic to something. “We understand that our request seems unreason— Wait, did you say sure?”
You shrug and nod your head twice.
“Yeah, sure.”
“Sure?” Seven voices all call out at once, and you grimace at the rise in volume. They all retreat into themselves after noticing your expression.
“Yeah, whatever you just said is fine by me. But, I have a condition of my own.”
“Very well, what is it?” Namjoon peers at you, curiously. You have the sense that he is sussing you out, so you square your shoulders.
“I need someone to spend my heat with—” You are, rudely, cut off by a,
“No.” From Taehyung.
“Wait, no, listen to me—” You fluster, not having thought through your execution of your request well enough.
“Let’s hear her out, guys.” Hoseok chimes in, flashing you a smile. “Go on.”
“Right, okay. I was hospitalized a week ago due to my last heat. My doctor insists I take an alpha to help me through my next heat or I’ll ‘die.’” You put die in hand quotes. “I think she’s hyperbolizing, but she was apparently serious enough that she had the court mandate this pairing on me.” You let out a small chuckle at the absurdity of the situation you find yourself in. “Look, I don’t need a heat partner, persay, just the influence of an alpha while I’m in heat. Like making sure I eat, drink water, scenting my stuff, etc, etc. But, I get it if that’s weird, so no hard feelings.”
“Give us a moment, would you, darling?” Seokjin sweetly asks before turning to his mates. The pet name goes over your head; you have a feeling he is the type to just pass out flattery like candy.
The pack try to huddle closer than they already are on the couch that is much too small for seven alphas, as they discuss your condition.
After a few minutes of hushed conversations, Namjoon turns to you.
“We can do that.”
“Oh, okay, cool.” You clasp your hands and look over at the social worker, who is still preoccupied. “Now what?”
Seokjin pushes a pen and the documents towards you.
“If you could just look over the responsibilities we laid out in this document and sign that you agree to what we discussed, then we can be on our way. We’ll have you move in tonight, so that the courts don’t chase either of us anymore.”
You flip through the meticulously prepared documents. Your responsibilities include scenting common spaces, providing scented clothing items for their den, assisting in household affairs, eating meals together, and spending a minimum number of hours bonding, among others.
All very doable and very non-invasive.
You sign the documents and hand them back to Seokjin with a little smile.
You are met with a range of expressions, going from kind smiles — Hoseok and Seokjin — to relative indifference — Yoongi and Taehyung — to unadultured intrigue — Jungkook and Jimin — and finally calm acceptance — Namjoon.
Your seven not-yours alphas blink back at you.
The inattentive social worker had been very happy that the Bangtan pack made arrangements to move you into their home that same day. She acted as if she had brokered the pairing herself rather than sit in a corner and let you figure it out on your own. No one called her out on it because of the absurdity of your arrangement.
Surely, if this social worker had reported what was really agreed upon, the eight of you would be forced into different, possibly less favourable, pairings.
The move itself had been painless, as well.
You only packed the things you use or wear the most: clothes, toiletries, accessories, fidget toys, iPad, and Nintendo Switch. Everything else was left behind with the understanding that the great Bangtan residence could spare a few utensils here and there.
You were given a tour of the residence, or mansion, you should say, but the place is so vast that you’d forgotten where everything was as soon as you were told. You could tell that they could tell because Namjoon mumbled something about getting you the blueprints to Seokjin, who was already calling someone — the architect, perhaps — up.
By the end of the tour, which was really Jungkook speedrunning you through every single space while Jimin tried to communicate the significance of the designs, and Taehyung grumbled unhappily behind you, you were exhausted.
They offered you dinner; they were ordering in, but you refused in favour of planting face-first into the softest bed you had ever been in.
You fell asleep without even changing into your pyjamas.
“Hyung, do you think we should wake her up?” Jungkook hops up to sit on the kitchen counter, overlooking Seokjin as he chops up some cucumber.
“No, let her sleep. She must be exhausted.” Seokjin dumps the cucumber in a bowl before moving on to shred some imitation crab.
“Yeah, I fear we overwhelmed her yesterday, but she didn’t say anything. She’ll wake up when she’s ready.” Hoseok steals a cucumber from the bowl; he is met with a slap to his hand and a yah!
“What if she doesn’t wake up before we leave for work?” Jimin sneaks up behind Hoseok, wrapping his arms around the other alpha’s waist and rubbing his peachy scent into Hoseok’s back.
“Who cares?” Taehyung twirls a set of chopsticks in his hands as he stares blankly at his mates, “She can figure things out on her own, can’t she?”
Seokjin purses his lips as he dumps the shredded crab into the bowl of cucumber. He pours sauces and spices into it before he tosses the banchan together.
“Taehyung, sweeheart, I’ve noticed a change in your mood as of late. Tell your favourite hyung what’s on your mind.” Seokjin tries to keep his voice airy and lighthearted, but they can all feel the tension radiating off of Taehyung, as if anything could set him off.
While none of the pack was super willing to take in an omega, Taehyung had been the only one vehemently against it. Something about not wanting to make unnecessary changes to an already perfect dynamic.
Though the older alphas worry that he might be a tad bit insecure, on account that he was the last of the seven to join the pack, even if it was several years ago. Taehyung never did well with change.
The scent of toasted s’mores burning to crisps wafts through the room subtly. This makes Jungkook’s sensitive nose scrunch in displeasure.
“It’s nothing. I’m not hungry anymore.”
Taehyung gets off the barstool and turns around to head back to their den. Jimin reaches out to stop him, but a flurry of black and white startles him.
It takes a moment for them to register that the cloud of fluttering cloth is you, with your book bag falling off your shoulder, and you trying to put on a heel while hopping in the hallway.
Seokjin, Hoseok, Jimin, and Jungkook all chase behind you.
“Darling, where do you think you’re going?!” Seokjin exclaims, glistening chopsticks in hand.
You are deceptively fast, or the four of them are uncoordinated and keep bumping into each other.
“Work! I’m going to be late!”
The alphas feel a rush overtaking them as they watch your retreating figure; there is a primal urge to chase down your tarty cherry scent and stop you. It’s fun in a way they’ve never experienced before. They don’t know what to do with themselves.
“Don’t wait up for me!”
You’re already jumping into an idling car, shuffling in next to another woman, by the time they make it to the front door.
The four alphas watch dumbfounded as the car drives away, with you merely waving your hand through the window.
“What’d we miss?” Namjoon inquires, peering over their hunched shoulders to find nothing outside their house. Yoongi meanders behind them, and Taehyung clings to him with a pout.
“She went to work, I guess.” Jimin finally speaks up, coming out of his shock-induced stupor.
It is in that moment that the Bangtan pack realizes they know nothing about you — not even how to contact you.
“The Ministry sent me Y/N’s file. I’ve forwarded it to you guys.” Seokjin taps away at his computer, and soon six phones or laptops chime that they have a new email notification.
“Let’s see…” Despite putting on his reading glasses, Namjoon still leans into his screen. To this, Hoseok laughs and pats the pack alpha’s head, messing up his hair. Namjoon merely groans and waves the offending hand off of him with a hyunggg. Namjoon might be pack alpha, but he’ll always be Bangtan’s baby, second to Jungkook. “Secondary gender, omega. Birth date, age, sex, yeah, yeah, all the basics. Oh, here, contact information—”
A quiet gasp cuts through the room. So quiet that only the trained ears of the Bangtan pack could pick up on the way air escapes Yoongi’s lips in astonishment.
“What is it, hyung?” Jungkook places his head on Yoongi’s shoulder to take a look at Yoongi’s screen. Jimin leans over Jungkook’s shoulder to do the same.
“She works here.”
“What?!” Six incredulous voices ring out in the conference room.
“Look. She has worked here for two years.” Yoongi Bluetooths his laptop to the conference room television.
On the big screen, a work ID stares back at them.
Under your smiling face reads,
Y/L/N Y/F/N | Human Resources
Bangtan Inc.