Chapter Text
You don’t remember rain being on the forecast, but then again, you don’t remember reading the weather report, either.
You’re already at the halfway point between your dorm and Professor Kim’s office when droplets begin hitting your face, small spits at first. It’s too late to turn around and retrieve your umbrella. The clouds forming in the sky all day should’ve been enough premonition, but you were too worked up about meeting the professor to talk about your final essay to notice; you’re just grateful that he is taking time out of his busy schedule to meet you on the evening before the day it’s due.
The clouds get stormier above you, like a warning that something bad is to come. You feel a chill settle in your bones, spreading from your ribcage, outwards.
You take it for the sign that it is, pull your book bag close, and sprint across the courtyard.
You’re only 500 meters away from the building’s entrance when the rain comes crashing down. Apparently, that’s just enough time to soak your hair since the hood of your jacket flew off during your high-speed journey. Thankfully, your bag remains dry, having been hugged against your body, thus protected by the elements. You shake yourself off like a wet dog at the building entrance and then step into the quiet building.
The literature department is a quaint department, known for being a refuge for shy bookworms and a harbinger of long hallways. In the evenings, students hide at home after classes, burying themselves in the assigned readings, and professors hole themselves up in their offices, working on research papers or poetry alike.
You’re no stranger to being in the department building this late.
Looking up from the centre of the main floor, the building appears to be taller than it is; the floors seem to spiral together, making you feel dizzy. It’s just creepy enough to send a shiver down your spine.
Squaring your shoulders, you make your way to the elevator, hit the number to Professor Kim’s floor, and lean against the railing of the elevator car for a moment. You feel uncharacteristically tired, but it’s probably from all the sprinting. You’re not much of an athlete.
The walk from the elevator to Professor Kim’s office is a short one, but a pit still forms in your stomach, like you’re nervous. About what? You can’t quite place. It’s not like you’ve never been to his office before.
Still, you have the creeping feeling that something about tonight is off-kilter.
But that can’t be right.
You’re just meeting Professor Kim; there’s nothing for you to worry about.
You shake it off.
You’re just about to knock on the door when it opens, revealing Professor Kim. A smile is already on his face when you set eyes on him, dimples poking through his cheeks.
“I thought I heard you coming down the hall. Come on in.” Professor Kim holds the door open for you as you shuffle inside. Suddenly, you’ve been made aware of the squelching sound your shoes make as you walk, forcing you to cringe out a,
“Sorry, Professor Kim.”
“What ever for?” His voice is sweet and gentle as he closes the door behind you. Then he circles around, as if assessing you from all sides before settling in front of you.
You feel awkward under his gaze, shy even. As an alpha, Professor Kim is naturally taller than you, making it easy for him to look down at you. Even as a beta, you’re on the shorter side, so you have to peer up through your lashes to meet his eyes; they’re heavy on you. You make note of his snug beige argyle sweater and brown slacks that make him look handsome and well put together, a stark contrast to your dripping pink coat and wet mop of hair. You cringe again.
Professor Kim chuckles at your non-answer, like he can read your mind, or maybe just your expressions. You feel like Professor Kim has come to know you all too well in only one semester, and you’re not sure how.
He extends his arm, motioning at the bag clutched in your arms. You blink back at him, confused, but hand him the bag gingerly. His smile grows as he takes the bag from you and rests it on the coffee table in his office.
Then he circles around you again, disappearing behind you. You try to turn around to keep sight of him, but you’re stopped by two large hands on your shoulders. Something buzzes beneath your skin, causing the hair on your neck to stick up.
“Did you get caught in the rain, little one?” Professor Kim asks, leaning over you from behind. His hand snakes around to your front, grasping the zipper of your jacket and slowly pulling it down. Once the jacket is unzipped, his hands return to your shoulders and carefully slide it off you.
You feel a sense of relief at being freed from the wet jacket, like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You let out a sigh, followed by a soft,
“Thank you, Professor Kim.” You look back to find Professor Kim hanging the jacket on the coat hanger in the corner of the office. When he catches you staring, you blush and look ahead. “I didn’t check the weather before leaving the dorms. I didn’t want to be late by going back to grab my umbrella.”
Without the jacket, you feel a chill pass through you, despite the windows being shut. You wrap your arms around yourself, still awkwardly standing in the middle of the office.
Professor Kim’s eyes never leave your figure as he makes his way through the office. Even without looking in his direction, you can feel his gaze on you, burning through your skin. Speaking of which, you feel like you’re burning up when you cross your arms, one over the other. Bad temperature regulation on your part; one second you’re cold, and the next you’re hot.
“I would’ve waited for you,” Professor Kim says from behind his desk, prompting a blush to spread across your face. When you finally have the courage to glance in his direction again, he’s coming around the desk with something fuzzy in his arms. “You can take your shoes off. I’m sure they’re uncomfortable.”
He’s still smiling, dimples having never left his face.
You look down at your feet and the puddle forming around you. You toe your way out of the boots, careful not to step in even more water as you do. You manage to hop away from your tiny mess and straight into Professor Kim’s arms.
“Oh,” you mumble, bumping into him, “Sorry, Professor Kim…”
He chuckles a second time, shaking his head. Something soft is pulled around your shoulder, bundling you up warmly. You’re guided to turn around, and suddenly, you’re seated on the couch, wrapped in a cozy blanket. Unconsciously, you bring the blanket up into your nose and breathe in the earthy scent of rain in an evergreen forest.
Professor Kim’s scent.
A beta’s sense of smell isn’t as dull as the movies would have you believe; the differences between betas and alphas or omegas are just dramatized to sell the more compelling stories about star-crossed lovers overcome by the biological urges. In actuality, you can smell others just fine, but not to a deeper extent, the way omegas and alphas can smell each other’s emotions. Betas also have their own scents, just more muted. It’s an easier life, you find.
There are some moments you wish you were an omega, however. Like right now, with your nose buried deep in Professor Kim’s blanket, wishing you could understand what he’s feeling as he gazes at you with those deep, dark eyes.
A tiny voice inside of you whispers, Desire. Alpha desires you.
You bristle, startled and unsure of where those feelings came from.
You clear your throat and sit up straight.
“About my essay…” You start, your voice sounding small in the quiet office. You can make out the muted sound of rain thumping against the window, mimicking the beat of your heart, pounding, unrelenting.
What’s gotten into you?
“What about your essay, little one?” Professor Kim drawls, sitting next to you. He rests his arm on the back of the couch, body turned towards you. He looks effortlessly handsome; you can’t tear your eyes away from him.
You blush.
Little one, he says, almost harmlessly. Goosebumps rise on your skin.
“I was hoping you could help me with my conclusion.” You reach for your forgotten bag, pulling out your laptop. You bring it to your lap and boot it up. Professor Kim leans in closer to you, hovering over your shoulder as you type in your password and open up the document. “I think I’ve made all my arguments, but I can’t seem to tie the different interpretations togeth—”
A jolt of pain shoots through you.
The device falls off your lap as you keel over, clutching your abdomen.
You feel like a horde of elephants is stomping all over your insides, smushing your organs flat. A gasp tears through you.
“Hey, sweetheart, are you okay?” Professor Kim’s large, warm hand is on your back, rubbing up and down. You can hear the worry in his voice, but there’s also a ringing in your ears. You press both of your hands into your ears to make it stop, but the assault on your body continues. You dig your fingers into your skull, trying to relieve the pressure building up in your brain cavity, tugging at your damp hair in the process.
In a moment, large hands envelope yours and slowly pull them away from your head. You’re being guided into a warm chest, and strong arms wrap around you as your head is tucked beneath Professor Kim’s chin. That same earthy scent enters your senses, more potent now, fresher in a way you’ve never experienced from a scent.
“There, there, little one, don’t hurt yourself.”
A choked sob escapes your lips, and you hurriedly press your hands against your lips to cover it. “P-professor K-Kim, it h-hurts,” You manage to stutter out through chattering teeth, suddenly feeling infinitely cold despite the warm blanket and body around you.
“What hurts, sweetheart? Tell me.” The worry grows deeper in his voice. He pulls back from you to assess your shaking figure, tears streaming down your face as you clutch your abdomen.
“It,” is all you manage, like it could describe the inhumane amount of pain wrecking through your body at the moment.
“I’m going to call a clinic to see if we can get you checked out.” He goes to stand, and another wave of shock courses through your arms, forcing you to reach for the professor and pull him back down. A wild desperation takes root in your chest, prompting you to cry out,
“Don’t go, Alpha!”
Professor Kim falls back onto the couch, a shocked expression crossing his face.
“What did you say?”
You squint your eyes and clutch the side of your head. You feel like you’re being eaten alive from the inside out, yet Alpha has the audacity to ask you stupid questions?!
Wait, what?
Another sob wracks through you.
Your face is being cupped in the same large hands your body has become accustomed to tonight. Belatedly, you realize there are calluses where one too many pens have been. Still, they’re soft against your burning face.
“Hey, little one, focus for me. Repeat to me what you said.” Professor Kim sounds serious now. You’ve only ever heard him sound so serious once, when he was lecturing the whole class on academic integrity after he caught a student plagiarizing.
Tears spill from your eyes at the memory, at the connection you’ve formed between his serious tone and his disappointment, in you, likely.
The words tumble from your lips before you can even think about them, “I-i’m sorry, Alpha, I’m s-sorry— I can— I can— Alpha, I can be—”
You can be what Alpha wants. Go on, now. Be a good girl. A treacherous and foreign voice calls from inside of you, causing you to grit your teeth as you try to make sense of her or drown her out. Whatever lessens the pain.
“Sweetheart, listen to me.” Professor Kim’s voice is stern as he grips your shoulders, giving you a solid shake to get your attention. You can feel the warmth from his hands transcend the layer of clothing you’re in, and it brings you some odd comfort to be held in place so tightly. But Professor Kim has a troubled look on his face; his smile now turned into a scowl, and his brows knit. He’s upset; you can smell the thunder and wilting plants on him. “Listen to me. You’re presenting right now.”
Another wave hits you as you take in Professor Kim’s words. This time it’s not pain, but a new feeling entirely. Desire.
Something wet pushes through your core. You cringe at the cool feeling between your legs. You whimper, pathetic and afraid, but also somewhere deep down, needy.
“That can’t be r-right,” You manage to push out, feeling faint but grateful that Professor Kim is holding you up. “There’s no o-omegas in my family, I c-can’t be—”
You are pulled into a tight embrace, right into Professor Kim’s sturdy chest. He’s pumping out the best pheromones, so you breathe a lungful of them.
That same lecherous voice chants, safe, safe, safe.
Omega, you realize, your omega’s voice.
“However true that may be,” Professor Kim murmurs against your ear, and his voice sends ripples of a feeling you don’t have the language to describe down your spine. “You’re presenting, my sweet thing.”
Another cry rips through your throat. This time, you press your body against Professor Kim’s, fully climbing into his lap; the blanket falls behind you, but your skin feels so alight that you don’t notice its absence.
“Alpha,” you cry, desperation leaking from the corners of your lips, “Alpha, make it stop, please, make it stop—”
Placing your palms on Professor Kim’s shoulders to use as your anchor, you lean back just enough to look him in the eye, to make him see the pain you’re in and do something about it.
What stares back at you is the expression of a conflicted man.
Professor Kim licks his lips before worrying his bottom lip between his teeth, causing tears in the delicate skin. His brows are furrowed to the point where you think he might leave behind a permanent wrinkle. The apples of his cheeks, now tugged down due to his scowl, are beet red.
And his eyes… His eyes are black pits. You feel drawn to them, as if they were a black hole that could devour you in one gulp.
Your throat feels incredibly dry all of a sudden, and you can only choke out a pathetic, “Alpha—”
Professor Kim’s soft hand covers your mouth as he peers into you, deeply, entrancingly.
“Shh, little one. Listen to me carefully.” His voice is but a whisper, but it completely drowns out the thumping in your skull. “This is very serious. I could lose my job if I help you through this. Do you understand that?”
You nod, not trusting what sounds might leave your mouth.
“Good, good.” Professor Kim removes his hand from your mouth and then leans back, relaxing against the couch. A complete juxtaposition to how tightly you are wound up in his lap, with you curling over your torso.
You stare at him in a moment of disbelief, confused that he could look so relaxed and unbothered while your body shifts within itself. You catch the moment where Professor Kim reads your mind again, because his serious scowl morphs into a lazy smirk, like you were an afterthought, not a shaking, newly presented omega in his lap.
“That being said,” He finally drawls. A pair of long fingers slowly walk up your upper thigh. “I can’t drop you off at home in this state, and I can’t leave you alone in this office to suffer.” His hands meet your waist, and you’re suddenly pulled forward into him. Your chest presses against his, sending sensations through your nipples as they rub against your bra. In an instant, his nose is pressed to your swelling scent gland, he takes in a deep breath of your scent, and he lets out a satisfied exhale. “It would be a dereliction of my duties as an educator not to teach you what to do in this situation.”
Professor Kim has said a lot of words, many of which you cannot make sense of with all the mumbling and jumbling happening in your head, but you understand the important part enough. You cling to him, pumping out as much of your scent as you can. “Please, Professor Kim, teach me— teach me what to do—”
There’s a nagging voice in your head, encouraging you to be good, be better. You cry out again.
“There, there, little one,” Professor Kim whispers into your neck, his breath hot against your flushed skin. “Tell me where it hurts.”
“Down there,” You whimper, bracing yourself against him. Just as attention is called to it, another wave of slick flows through you, soaking your panties. It’s cold and sticky, making you shift uncomfortably in Professor Kim’s lap.
He chuckles, as if making light of your suffering.
“Down where, sweetheart?”
There Alpha goes again with his stupid questions.
You feel as though you’ve unknowingly relinquished control of your body to some bolder being because, uncharacteristic of your shy nature, you grab one of Professor Kim’s large hands and press it over your core, clothed by your long, damp polka dot skirt.
“There!” You huff, indignantly.
Professor Kim’s laugh bellows in the office, harmonizing with the sounds of the rain, as he cups your core loosely.
“Oh, you sweet thing. You must really be in pain, aren’t you?”
You nod your head fervently; you can feel the sweat beading at your hairline roll down your forehead as you do.
The office feels unbelievably sweltering.
As if he could read your mind, Professor Kim directs his hand to the hem of your blouse. “Let’s get you out of these uncomfortable layers, shall we?”
You can only nod as large hands push up your blouse, dragging their way up your flushed skin before pulling it off and over your head. You sigh as the cool air of the office hits your feverish torso, but you’re quickly startled by Professor Kim’s fingers dancing across your back, finding their way to the hooks of your bra.
“This, too, little one.” He doesn’t wait for your affirmation, merely snapping the garment off and letting it slide down your shoulders and arms. He discards it haphazardly, gaze fixated on your chest.
Despite your lowered inhibitions and the desperate throbbing in your core, you have half the mind to feel embarrassed, so you cross your arms over your chest, as if you could shield yourself from Professor Kim’s eyes.
“Don’t,” He growls, raising the hairs on the back of your neck, “hide yourself from me, sweet thing.” You almost don’t recognize the voice that passes those plush lips, but as you look upon the alpha, he is unmistakably the professor you’ve grown to adore. Just hungrier.
Your arms fall to your sides against your behest, and you merely whine; pain still coursing through you.
“P-professor Kim, please—”
You’re not sure what you’re begging for, but anything to soothe the storm brewing inside you will do.
“Hush now, little one, Alpha will make you feel good.”
Just as the words hit the air, his lips are wrapped around your swollen nipple, sucking firmly. You cry out at the wet sensation, pushing your chest further out to chase the feeling of Professor Kim’s teeth and tongue twisting you, tugging you, tasting you. His free hand finds its way to your neglected breast and kneads it roughly, coaxing a burst of moans from you.
The feeling is all too welcome, exhilarating even. You’d never been touched intimately before, and the first to do so is your favourite Professor Kim. The realization urges more slick to push through your core, and you can feel it clinging to your panties and thighs.
“More, Professor Kim, I need more—”
Professor Kim pulls back with the click of his tongue. He regards the wrecked state you find yourself in. Skin flushed an angry red, lips bleeding from being worried between your teeth, chest pushed out with perky nipples, and not to mention your aching thighs that shake around Professor Kim’s own.
“I suppose I’ll have to time my time with you later, my sweet thing.” He murmurs, sounding almost dismayed. “Let me take care of you.”
“Yes, please, Alpha, please…” You’ve lost track of how many pleas have fallen from your lips tonight, but Professor Kim seems to soak them up, offering you a warm smile.
Without so much as a thought, Professor Kim maneuvers you to lie down against the couch. The faux leather clings to your sweaty back uncomfortably, but that discomfort is nothing compared to the torment pulsing through your lower body.
Professor Kim towers over you; his hair frames his face handsomely enough that it distracts you from the hooking of thumbs through your waistbands. Your skirt and panties are slid off you with such efficiency that you would have missed the experience if it weren’t for the immediate release of slick upon cold air hitting your throbbing core.
With a gasp, you find Professor Kim grinning down at you, as if you were a gift he has just unwrapped. A deep-seated part of you is almost afraid of the look in his eyes, burning so intensely in a way you’d never experienced, but the immediate desires of your hindbrain override any worries you have, replacing them with an unending loop of need, need, need.
So you reach out to him, arms outstretched and begging for his comfort. He dips down enough that you can wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him towards you. This close, you can taste the musk of his heady, earthy scent on your tongue. It completely overpowers you, forcing your body to relax, to give in.
Your lips meet for the first time that night.
Needy, hungry, driven.
In no way as romantic as the first time he’d kissed you in a classroom on one fateful afternoon.
You can’t seem to care.
Your omega’s cheers ring through your ears, deafening you to all else: Alpha, Alpha, Alpha.
You shudder when you feel warm knuckles pet your core, brushing over your protruding clit ever so slightly. The gentle touch sends shockwaves up your body, and you tighten your grip around Professor Kim with a whine.
He chuckles against your lips. “There, there. I’ll give you what you need, little one.”
As promised, two long fingers slip into you, drawing out a long moan. His chuckle continues to resonate in the office as he easily slides his fingers in and out of you, applying pressure to your clit with his thumb at the same time. You squirm under him, under the unfamiliar but terribly pleasurable feeling.
“It looks like I won’t have to prep you after all. You’re sopping wet for me, hm?” You can only whine, embarrassed, as you pucker your lips to ask for more kisses. He grants your wish, and at the same time, slips in a third finger before pulling them apart inside you.
You feel good, but you need more.
Professor Kim, who has come to know you so well, understands as much.
He pulls away from you, earning a whine. To which, he presses his wet finger to your lip, effectively silencing your complaints. The scent of your arousal invades your nose, and you close your eyes to breathe it in.
The sound of a belt buckle and fly being undone draws your attention to his crotch; you feel your heart begin racing, as if horses were doing a lap inside your chest.
Professor Kim pulls out the most massive cock you’d ever seen.
Though you, admittedly, have never seen any before.
He grins down at you, dimples looking too kind for the next words that leave his mouth. “Are you ready to take Alpha’s knot, little omega?”
“Yes, Alpha,” Your voice betrays you before your mind can even catch up.
You’re terrified, but it’s also impossible for you to deny Professor Kim anything.
“Good girl,” He says warmly before lining up his cock to your entrance. You’re torn between wanting to look down at the meeting of your intimates versus continuing to stare at Professor Kim’s handsome face.
You do neither; your eyes immediately roll to the back of your head as Professor Kim eases himself into you, stretching you over his large cock. Soft moans flow from your lips with every inch Professor Kim slowly feeds you, until he’s fully sheathed within the deepest part of your core.
A long groan passes through his lips, vibrating in your eardrums. Your omega thrums, pleased that you’ve provided a source of pleasure for your Alpha.
For a moment, it’s just you, Professor Kim, and the storm outside. Your quiet pants and his hums harmonize with the raindrops hitting the window. His scent envelopes you like a hug, drawing you into a deep lull. It’s almost soothing.
Professor Kim lifts your legs by the knees and begins ramming into you at a brutal pace.
Gone is the gentleness of before, replaced with a fervent and biological need to fuck you, breed you.
You don’t recognize your own voice as moans spill out in high-pitched tones of ahs and ohs and please, Alpha, please. Professor Kim growls in your ear every time you refer to him as Alpha, and you can feel the rumbling in his chest travel to his cock, vibrating you from the inside out.
All that pain has dissipated, as if driven away by Professor Kim’s alpha cock.
And you take it like you were born for it, like your hole was carved specifically to take it.
Maybe you were, the treacherous part of your brain supplies, addled by a rush of endorphins.
You thrash underneath him; your pleasure peaking higher and higher.
“Professor Kim— Ah, Alpha— Please, please—” Cries and moans tumble from your lips as you pull your professor impossibly closer to you. His breath ghosts your neck, nose bumping into the edge of your jaw. So close to your glands, his scent is dizzying. You can’t make sense of anything outside of your body, as you say, “Bite me.”
“Hmm,” Professor Kim laughs against your neck, tongue wetting the skin. “What was that, little one?”
“Please, Alpha, bite me— I’ll be good, I promise—”
“I shouldn’t,” He chides, to which you can only whine. How dare Alpha deny you in such a way? “But for you, perhaps, since you asked so nicely, my sweet thing…”
Your omega chirps, thrilled.
You feel Professor Kim’s knot catching with every thrust, creating a delicious stretch that sends tingles down your toes.
Right as Professor Kim pushes his inflated knot past your swollen lips, you see stars. All the electricity in your body spikes, manifesting in a surprised moan and shuddering of your body. You had never dreamed of feeling such intense pleasure; it rolls out in waves as Professor Kim bucks into you a final time and releases his warm seed inside of you, triggering a giddy feeling.
Then, blinding white flashes across your vision.
A set of sharp teeth sinks into the tender flesh of your scent gland.
Five Years Later
You blink open your bleary eyes as the taxi pulls into the driveway of a modern detached house. Raindrops against the taxi windows obscure the sight of the building, but you can easily make out the sharp angles, and then, the body of a man waiting at the doorway, umbrella in hand.
Even with sleep and rain clouding your vision, you could recognize the man anywhere.
The taxi comes to a stop, and your parents are quick to exit the vehicle. You remain seated, trying to prolong the inevitable a little longer. You can feel his eyes on you through the glass. You shiver, partly due to the cool air from the open doors, partly in trepidation.
The next moment, your mother opens the taxi door for you, urging you to get out with the firm nod of her head. Gingerly, you step out, pulling your overnight bag with you.
You fall in step with her easily, having been used to following behind her. She holds an umbrella over the two of you; the sound of the raindrops tapping gently provides you with some comfort. Your mother is a proud alpha, coming from a strong line of alphas and born to an alpha couple. Though stern, she is not unkind. She never dismayed that you presented as an omega when there hadn’t been one in hers, nor your beta father’s family, in decades. If anything, she just became more vigilant, stricter, especially with all that happened once you presented.
You shiver again as the wind blows by you.
The man approaches you and your mother in long strides, and as he does, you can’t help but revel in his timeless beauty. He looks just as handsome as he did five years ago, when you last saw him. Self-assured, intentional, put together. He continues to embody all the qualities that made you fall for him in the first place.
Now, as he makes his way across the driveway, you feel nothing. No butterflies, no giddiness. Just apathy.
He’s only a meter away when he reaches forward to take your bag from you, but you instinctively side-step him, shielding yourself behind your mother.
You watch as the smile gracing his face falls and his dimples disappear, like he hadn’t expected you to shirk away from him. You’re not sure what he expects from you after all these years, but you don’t intend to make things easy for him now.
He quickly shakes the rejection off and straightens himself out, turning slightly to greet your mother with a polite bow. She offers a halfhearted one.
“How was your flight? I hope it wasn’t too long.” He smiles warmly as he directs the two of you towards the house.
“It was a fourteen-hour flight. The expectation is that it was long.” Your mother huffs, not one for small talk. At least not with this man.
“Yes, of course. Forgive me.” He responds, still polite. You can feel his gaze on the side of your face, from where you are looking back at your beta stepfather unload the taxi with the help of the driver. The man catches your line of sight and turns to the house, calling out, “Jungkook, Taehyung, come out here and help with her bags.”
As if they had been waiting on standby, two alphas cross the threshold and beeline for the taxi. They don’t spare you a glance. They easily hoist your suitcases into the house, leaving your stepfather and the driver in the dust.
“This way, if you would.”
There is another alpha waiting by the doorway, adorned in a baby pink button-up, a yellow sweater vest, and black slacks. The smile he throws your way and his soft manner of dress disarm you, so much so that you barely register him plucking the overnight bag you had been clutching for dear life from you. You gape at the alpha, who merely offers you a wink before guiding you and your family deeper into the house.
Quickly, you school your expression into something neutral, something unattached.
You aren’t here to play nice.
Eventually, you make it to a large living room, furnished in dark brown with accents of purple in the decorative pillows and curtains. Your eyes are naturally drawn to the gaudy red and blue letters bannered across the widescreen television, reading, WELCOME HOME! It’s bookended by helium-filled balloons of various colours, attached to streamers.
You should find it funny, if not endearing, but it only leaves a sour taste in your mouth. You would not call this place your home, nor the alphas who reside within it your pack.
You take a seat between your parents on a sofa, and your stepfather rubs gentle circles on your knee, over your pants. Across from you, seven alphas occupy a sectional sofa, easily accommodating the entire pack.
They all fix their gaze on you. You do your best not to squirm under the scrutiny; you try to mimic the posture your mother is always drilling into you, sitting up straighter and squaring your shoulders. But the nervousness still gets to you, manifesting in the tapping of your fingers against each other in your lap.
There’s a thrumming under your skin that you can’t control. No doubt a result of your newfound proximity to a pack that you’ve always been connected to but had never met. You wonder if they feel it, too. You scan the pack, hoping to note down any ticks of theirs.
The man clears his throat, snapping your attention back to him. He sits in the centre of the group with his feet firmly planted on the floor, back straight, and arms crossed loosely. He offers you another smile that you meet only with furrowed brows and downturned lips. “I believe introductions are in order. As you already know, I’m Kim Namjoon, professor of English Literature at SNU. I recently returned from time away at the military.”
Your eye twitches.
That’s right. This man sitting before you, all cool and collected, is Kim Namjoon. You once knew him as Professor Kim, your favourite professor during your undergraduate studies.
Now, he is just a man, just an alpha you are bonded to for life. One who hadn’t taken responsibility for his actions, at least not for five years.
“Pleased to have you here.” The disarming alpha from earlier speaks kindly. Your bag rests in his lap. “My name is Kim Seokjin, and I’m the Director of the Drama Department at SNU.” He wraps an arm around Namjoon, stretching his broad shoulders. “I’m the eldest, so you can call me Jin-oppa.”
You cringe. You would most certainly not call him that.
Look at those shoulders, I bet Alpha gives great hugs. A treacherous voice echoes in your skull, one that you had been working many years to shut out.
A scowl mars your face, which the alphas no doubt notice.
“You don’t have to use honorifics with us if you don’t want to,” Namjoon rushes, urgently, “Considering you’ve spent the last five years in Canada, it might be uncomfortable for you. So, we won’t mind.”
Your face doesn’t relax.
“Min, Yoongi,” The next alpha is curt. He appears smaller than the others, and he sits hunched over. Unlike the rest of the alphas, who all appear to be dressed formally, Yoongi wears an oversized black hoodie and a beanie. His eyes once over you lazily, as if assessing if you were worth the time and effort. You should be affronted if you weren’t doing the same thing. “I produce music. Sometimes I teach at SNU.” You suspect that’s all you’ll get out of him. You don’t mind.
Reserved, but firm. A fair Alpha.
Clench.
“Guess I’m up next!” An alpha with a heart smile cheers, leaning forward on the sofa. He sticks his hand out for you to shake, but you keep your hands firmly in your lap. His smile doesn’t falter at your cold demeanour. “The name’s Jung Hoseok, but please call me Hobi. Everyone does. I own a dance studio.” His smile is blinding, and it takes everything in you not to squint and turn away.
He’s so sweet. Alpha will keep us happy!
Grind.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Park Jimin. I’m currently enlisted.” An alpha with clipped blonde hair speaks, his voice smooth as honey. He licks his bottom lip when your eyes meet, and you instinctively lean back, as if you could put any more distance between you two.
“Kim Taehyung. Also enlisted. We’re out on break for your arrival.” This alpha offers you a boxy smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s something tired behind it, and you can’t tell if it’s exhaustion from the military or this situation.
Sexy and mysterious. They must be so strong. Alphas could sandwich u—
“Stop it!” You grit to yourself. Suddenly, you feel the pointed gaze of everyone in the room as you realize you had spoken out loud. You flush and duck your head, but offer no apologies.
There is a moment of silence, but you suspect it has little to do with your outburst as you observe the last alpha, who has yet to speak. He’s dressed in a black button-up shirt, but the top buttons are left undone, exposing his collarbones. The sleeves are also rolled up, showcasing a variety of tattoos, inking his entire forearm and crawling up to an area you can’t see. He worries a lip ring between his teeth, brows scrunched together as he looks at the carpet by your feet instead of at you.
You want to laugh. He is acting awfully shy for an alpha with such an intimidating appearance. Hoseok nudges him gently, bringing him back into the land of the conscious.
“Ah, uh. Jeon Jungkook. I make short films sometimes.” Jungkook rubs the back of his neck as he finally meets your gaze, offering you a small smile. You purse your lips and watch as he blanches at the reaction.
You want to smirk, but keep the victory to yourself. There will be plenty of time for that.
“Jungkookie is the youngest, so I’m sure he’s overjoyed to finally have someone younger to dote on,” Seokjin offers, breaking the tense silence that falls over the room after the introductions. You have not offered one of your own. Anything they needed to know about you, Namjoon should have communicated — they don’t need anything more from you.
“How old are you?” The words leave your lips before you can stop yourself, always the most curious in a room.
“Uh, thirty.” Jungkook seems surprised by the question. After all, it’s the first thing you’ve actually said to them since entering their vicinity.
You berate yourself; you had been hoping to say something more daring to set the tone.
“And you?” This time, it’s your turn to look surprised. Had Namjoon really not told them your age?
“I’m twenty-three.” You say calmly, not betraying the incredulity passing over you. You shoot Namjoon a sharp look, and he has half the decency to look embarrassed, cheeks flushing a deep peach.
“That makes her ten years younger than Namjoon-hyung, so she was eighteen when he—” An elbow meets Taehyung’s chest while he was whispering conspiratorially to Jimin. He glares at the perpetrator with an offended look, but Seokjin plasters a full-teeth smile as he ignores the younger alpha.
“I believe it’s time for the pack to present our new omega with her gifts, don’t you think so, Head Al—”
“I’m tired. I’d like to go to bed.” You cut Seokjin off, startling the group.
Your skin feels itchy. Namjoon refuses to meet your eyes after having spent the entire afternoon doing nothing but staring at you. You’re not sure if you should laugh or rage that he had kept such a crucial detail secret from his pack, and you can’t help but wonder what else he hasn’t told them about.
“Of course. You must be exhausted from the journey.” Namjoon finally speaks up, trying to level out his voice, but you don’t miss the high-pitched beginning of his sentence that he was trying to mask by clearing his throat. “Hobi, could you show her to her room?”
“Sure thing! Follow me,” The alpha exclaims, easily stealing your overnight bag from Seokjin’s lap and throwing it over his shoulder.
Gingerly, you stand to follow him, and your mother is hot on your heels. Hoseok leads you down a hallway before stopping in front of a door at the end. He opens the door dramatically, making a show of revealing the room as he places your bag by the foot of the bed.
“Tada!” Hoseok cheers. “Taehyungie and Jungkookie will move your suitcases to your room later, but you rest up first.”
You take in the room before you. The walls are a soft pink, decorated with hot pink polka dots. A princess bed sits in the middle of the room, framed by a tulle canopy. It’s like every little girl’s dream room.
You blanch.
Did Namjoon seriously think this was your taste? That you were still a little girl?
The thrumming and itch underneath your skin gets worse, so you have no choice but to accept what you’re given. Exhausted, you sit on the bed, bracing yourself with your hands on the edge.
You feel the bed dip next to you, and without even looking, you know that it’s your mother’s sturdy and steady presence. She takes your hand in hers, intertwining your fingers.
“You don’t have to go through this, you know.” Your mother squeezes your hand tightly. “Just say the word, and we’ll be back on a plane. Fuck Kim Namjoon, and fuck his military directives. It doesn’t have to be your problem.” In an uncharacteristic softness, she swipes your hair over your shoulder and grazes your bite mark with her thumb. “Not after all these years.” You shudder.
Your throat feels dry as you try to swallow tears.
You really didn’t have to be here. You’re doing him a favour that he’s clearly undeserving of.
You can feel the worry radiating off of your mother, who will be flying back to Canada in a week's time. You feel for her. The two of you have been inseparable since that one night, after which your mother fought your father for custody and the right to take you out of the country, blaming his negligence for everything.
Gently, you pull her hand away from your neck and offer her the best smile you can. “I know. I want to do this.”
You watch a tense expression cloud her features. Your parents did not understand your decision to move in with Kim Namjoon and his pack when he finally asked, five years later, but you didn’t need them to.
You had a plan.
A plan that would settle the score after all these years.
A plan to take Kim Namjoon for everything he was worth, starting with his packmates.
You kiss your mother’s cheek and then send a kind smile to your stepfather, who was awkwardly hovering. “Go, I’ll be okay. I love you.”
Your mother gives you a firm hug, and your stepfather joins in. Before pulling away, she states, “We love you, don’t forget.”
When she exits the room, you catch Hoseok lingering at the door. He looks over his shoulder as he shares, “For what it’s worth, we’re all happy you’re here. No matter the circumstances, even if it took this long.”
You regard him with relative indifference, to which he shuts the door with a sigh.
The princess pink room is shrouded in darkness.
You fall backwards on the bed.
The thrumming calms down.
You fall asleep.