Archive of Our Own

His grandfather and his fuck ass committee had backed off for now, leaving the pack to bask in the excitement that came with having a baby.

Mostly.

Hongjoong became a big crier in the span of two weeks, and he knew his alphas couldn’t stand it. They hated it when his eyes got all round and cries tumbled from pouty lips, causing them to become frantic in their efforts to get him to stop. With Seonghwa being away doing odd jobs, this was a sight they were met with often, no matter what they tried. Hongjoong missed his Seonghwa, and while they all loved each other, the pack alpha’s absence was a hole they couldn’t exactly fill.

Becoming the regent has given the pack alpha quite the extensive list of responsibilities, most of them keeping him out of the house and away from Hongjoong more often that he would like. When Hongjoong was the head, not being home didn’t bother him because they were together. The opposite rang true these days.

And he keeps taking Yunho! Yunho was only alpha besides Seonghwa he saw as competent as Seonghwa was. Not to say the others weren’t, but Hongjoong was more inclined to be softer with Seonghwa or Yunho rather than San or Wooyoung. He felt the need to protect his baby alpha’s, and he couldn’t do that if he was soft all the time.

But there were days when Seonghwa didn’t even come to bed because something else outside of their home demanded his attention or he would have to leave in the middle of the night. What transpired most of the time, was Seonghwa falling asleep before the pack even settled in for the night and gone before they opened their eyes.

Hongjoong felt his absence like a wound. He couldn’t sleep right, his blankets didn’t cover him the same and his scent carried a constant note of being distressed no matter what his alphas or Mingi tried.

Today it was San’s turn. Wooyoung and Yeosang were in the kitchen baking chocolate chip cookies, but specifically the ones with the giant chocolate chip in the middle of it, per Hongjoong’s request, and Mingi was off somewhere around the house doing…well, Mingi things.

“Do you think the baby would like plush toys or ones with batteries and make noise?”

“Plushies. I’ll get sick of the ones with batteries real fast.”

Hongjoong had his swollen ankles in San’s lap while the alpha shopped on his phone, buying things the baby wouldn’t even be able to use even months after they were born. He used one hand to scroll and his free hand to press at the engorged skin. Hongjoong would have taken the bait when he offered to  buy things from his Pinterest board, but he couldn’t shake the crippling unease that rendered him unable to look away from his messages.

This time, Seonghwa had taken Yunho and Jongho away for something about checking their loading docks in Busan and he couldn’t help but worry about something going wrong. They had been gone a total of three days, but it had been a week since he had seen Seonghwa—not over a video call.

 He had sent at least fifty messages to each of them today alone, and the only response he got was a plant emoji from Jongho in response to, “How is everything going?’

What the fuck does a plant emoji mean?

So, San was distracting him or at least trying his best to, but Hongjoong still found himself wiping away secret tears. The alpha was doing nothing to quell the stifling anxiety that made the back of Hongjoong’s throat taste metallic, even as he rambled on about what color grapefruit was.

“Do you think they mean the inside of the fruit or the peel color?”

Hongjoong refreshed his screen with a tug of his thumb just to be met with a whole lot of nothing. Well, not completely nothing. He swiped away an incoming call from his mother with a roll of his watery eyes. That was a can of worms he had yet to open; the state of his grandfather’s affairs was all in a disarray and it’s kind of his fault.

And, he did not have the energy to be lectured right now, nor was he in the mood.

But his nursery Pinterest board got thirty new saves! Wonderful.  He sighed heavily, tossing his phone to the carpet, watching as it bounced, once, twice, before it disappeared into the fabric.

“I don’t think the baby cares, Sannie, it doesn’t have eyes yet,” he rushed, crossing his arms. His forearm brushed against his nipples, making him wince, so he settled for folding his hands over his belly instead.

“Yes, they do,” San gasped, “you’re starting your second trimester! The baby has eyes and kidneys and… stuff, I think. And stop calling the jellyfish it, they can hear you!”

“San, my love, shut up. I can’t hear myself worry.”

San hummed with a pout, and his thumb traced an arc over Hongjoong’s swollen ankle before he bent down to press a kiss to it. When Hongjoong still refused to look at him, he spoke softly.

“Luna,” Hongjoong felt himself deflate at the title, letting his eyes fall from the ceiling to look at San who had a sympathetic expression on his face. “I know you’re worried, but they will come home to you.” San dug his thumb into his sole, trying to massage the swelling away. Hongjoong was grateful for it, but he still huffed and stared at the ceiling to be difficult. “Seonghwa-hyung could take out a hundred men with a head cold and still win, you know this.”

He did know this, he had witnessed it with his own two eyes, but that did nothing for his need for them to be home. Home with him, smothered in his nest where he could watch over them and listen to them breathe. It didn’t seem like San understood this, so he flipped over, with the alpha’s help of course, his head now in San’s lap and pressed a hand to his forehead.

“Oh, woe is me! My heart doth yearn for my husbands to return from war,” he moaned dramatically, but real despair permeated the room. San watched him with his eyebrows slightly furrowed and began to stroke his hair.

“I’m sorry, hyungie,” he punctuated this with a kiss to his forehead, and now Hongjoong wanted to cry.

Hongjoong continued to whimper and moan, his scent all blue and consuming even as San continued to pet him. A couple of minutes of wallowing went by, before the distant sound of running was heard down the hall. There was a thud, followed by a whimpered ‘ow’ before Mingi burst into the room looking a bit frazzled.

He had forgone his contacts for his glasses, giving him a cute, nerdy vibe. He stood there in a tank top and hello kitty bottoms, but his holster was in his hand. This part of the image was wrong and Hongjoong attempted to sit up. He would have been happier to see him if distress wasn’t coming off Mingi in waves.”

“Omega?” Hongjoong called wearily.

“The Nams are at the docks,” Mingi panted, his eyes wild. Hongoong’s heart rate was up instantly, and now he was starting to get dizzy. San’s thighs tensed underneath his head, and his scent of pine went ashen, turning into something sharp and metallic that burned the back of Hongjoong’s throat.

He carefully helped Hongjoong upright and gave the younger omega his full attention. His posture had done a completely one-eighty from quite literally a couple seconds ago, hunched forward with his forearms resting on his thighs. Hongjoong already missed the peace from a couple seconds ago.

“Give me the run down,” he demanded, loosely lacing his fingers together.

“Us,” Hongjoong corrected, his hands folded protectively over his stomach. “This is still my pack.”

Mingi ran a shaky hand through his hair, taking in a breath to gather his thoughts.

“The Nams weren’t supposed to be within fifty miles of those docks,” Mingi started, his voice cracking as he fumbled to strap his holster over his Hello Kitty pajamas. His large finger trembled and Hongjoong wished to hold them if his heart wasn’t currently trying to escape out of his throat.  “I was monitoring the feed from the north entrance. They weren’t even supposed to be there, hyung, it was just a check-up!” Mingi sniffed wetly, and Hongjoong felt a few seconds away from blubbering himself.  “T-They brought heavy hitters. Guns. And at least four SUVs. I lost the feed two minutes ago, but not before I saw Yunho’s car get boxed in.”

This wasn’t anything new, they’ve had to fight for their lives before. But now that Hongjoong was pregnant, his emotions were all over the place, something that Mingi has seemed to have picked up. Maybe sympathetic symptoms as his fellow omega.

Whatever.

All he knew was that he needed to get to his mates and finish the Nams off once and for all.

He stretched his legs, his stiff joints popping sharply. He then reached out, placing a hand on San’s shoulder to haul himself up. San’s hands flew up instinctively to support his sides, but Hongjoong bat them away with a sharp look and stood to his full, albeit slightly wobbly, height.

“Let’s go get my husbands.”

Mingi shook his head adamantly, his expression shifting from worried to flat-out refusal. “Absolutely not! You can’t go anywhere in that condition!”

Hongjoong’s brow furrowed. ‘In that condition’? What happened to all the talk about not being a liability?

“And why not,” he challenged, his voice dropping an octave. Mingi surprised him by stepping all in his personal space,  and cupped his cheek. He leaned down, brushing his lips against the bridge of Hongjoong’s nose before lingering there, rubbing their noses in what could have been a desperate plea.

“Because, Luna, we cannot lose you.” He whispered, his voice raw in a way that stole the breath out of Hongjoong’s lungs, and he couldn’t find it in himself to argue. He was easy for his pack like that when they referred him to his title.  “I’ll take San, and Yeosangie,” he explained, brushing his bangs out of his hair. “Wooyo will be more than happy to keep you company until we come back. And we will come back to you, my Luna. I swear on my oath.”

Hongjoong pursed his lips, sniffing disdainfully and pretended to mull it over. Though before he could retort, another presence pressed against his back, hands coming under his shirt to rub his belly. He gasped as the alpha’s fingers dug into his skin. San’s palms were warm, a very welcome contrast from the chill of the room.

Hongjoong shivered as San placed a reverent kiss under his ear. “I also swear on my oath, Luna. We’ll return.”

The heat flared in Hongjoong’s cheeks before he wiggled out from where they had trapped him. Being sandwiched between the two of them was not good for his heart, and they knew this if their matching grins were anything to go by. He tugged his shirt back over his belly with a glare. “Fucking fine! I get it! Go! Damn…”

Yeosang appeared from the kitchen with Wooyoung in tow. He was already strapped up, but he hadn’t changed out of his house clothes; just threw a heavy coat over it. He had two extras in his hand. He gave one to Mingi and threw the other at San. It hit him in the face, making him squawk. He marched over to where Hongjoong was sitting on the couch. He leaned in and captured his lips in a chaste kiss.

“I love you, Hongjoong.” He breathed when he pulled away.

An hour later, Hongjoong was on the roof with Wooyoung, dressed in fresh pajamas and a giant black robe that reeked of Seonghwa, the hem brushing the floor every time he shifted.  Well, not the roof, Wooyoung wouldn’t let him up that high, the bastard. They were on the balcony that was connected to their master bedroom.

He was sitting in a lawn chair while Wooyoung stood next to him, holding a jar of Twizzlers that had been drizzled in honey, topped with salt chunks and spent the night in the freezer. Hongjoong enjoyed gnawing at the icy exterior before it broke away to the chewy center. The perfect snack, really.  

They were up high enough so that he could see the entire expanse of the property, up to the giant stone wall covered in coiled vines. It would have been domestic if it wasn’t for the giant AR-15 Yeosang had gifted him for their fifth anniversary leaning against the railing.

It was a masterpiece, truly. One of Yeosang’s best works. A custom build, finished in an alpine-white Cerakote. There was dark blue filigree ingrained along the body of the weapon, resembling veins rather than intricate designs. Hongjoong reached out to it,  lips in a bitter line, his fingers tracing the cold blue grooves. It was a heavy, intimidating piece of hardware, but in his current state, the weight was comforting. It was the only thing that didn't feel "soft" about him right now.

He was waiting for them, the Nams. They were a dirty lot, and they knew he was…weakened. Tis the reality of the lives they led. Even a joyous occasion such as the production of a new heir was an opportunity to overthrow his empire. But he would never let that fucking happen. Not while he had his family’s ring on his finger and seven mating bites on his neck and shoulders.

His phone vibrated from the robe pocket he threw it in. Thinking it was someone from his pack he yanked it out, just to frown. It was his dam. He declined the call and shoved it back into the pocket.

Wooyoung wordlessly lifted a piece of the saturated candy to his lips and he accepted it, keeping his pout trained on his property line.

Movement along the wall had him picking up and aiming the weapon, ignoring the flare of distressed pheromones from beside him. He shut one eye and widened the other, using the scope to get a closer look. There was a man in all black that had gotten his leg and half of his torso over the rock wall. The idiot didn’t even try to cover his face, a triumphant grin on his face before he reached down to help someone else climb over.

“Last thing you’ll ever do,” Hongjoong whispered to himself. “Jackass.”

The shot was clean, a sharp, muffled crack that bit through the gentle silence of the afternoon. Hongjoong didn’t blink as the man in the scope crumpled, slipping backward over the wall. The second intruder didn't even have time to register the blood on his hands before Hongjoong was squeezing the trigger again and he too fell over.

Two down. He cocked the gun and let it fall from his eye with a satisfied rumble.

"Hyung," Wooyoung breathed, his voice a mix of awe and pure, unadulterated terror. Hongjoong could feel the need to protect radiating off him, but not while he was taking care of business. Wooyoung placed the jar of honeyed Twizzlers on the small table in front of them, the glass thudding dully under its weight. "Hyung, please, the baby. Let’s just go inside and--"

"The baby is fine, Wooyoung. The baby is a motherfucking Kim," Hongjoong snapped, though his breath was hitching in a way that betrayed his bravado.

The metallic taste in the back of his throat was back, but much sharper than before. Still, he took a deep breath and raised the weapon again. He shifted his weight, his lower back protesting the heavy lean of the AR-15, but he didn't pull away from the railing.

Down by the perimeter, more shadows were emerging, and Hongjoong was getting irritated. He couldn’t rid himself of the idea that they thought they were coming for a nesting omega, soft and slowed by pregnancy.

Like they had forgotten who exactly had paved the way for Seonghwa to take the seat in the first place.

Hongjoong wouldn’t mind going over a little review.

"They're coming through the north gate, too," Wooyoung informed him, his own lethality finally overriding his worry. He reached for his sidearm, his eyes turning predatory as he listed off his observations, something that was muscle memory to them all, but he was faltering. "I count six—no, eight. Hongjoong, we need to move inside. If they get a lucky shot at the roof—"

"They’re not gonna," Hongjoong growled. “They’re not even gonna make it to my driveway.”

 He adjusted the white-and-blue stock against his shoulder, feeling the cool filigree press into his skin. He inhaled sharply at the feeling; the metal kept him from spiraling. "Call Mingi. Tell him to stop playing around at the docks and get his ass back here."

Just as he lined up a third target, his phone, tucked into the deep pocket of the robe began to vibrate violently.

He didn't take his eye off the scope, his finger already jerking back to pull the trigger again. "Answer that. Put it on speaker."

Wooyoung fumbled for the device, tapping the screen. A chaotic mess of noise filled the air—gunfire, the roar of an engine, and the heavy, ragged breathing of someone running.

Shit, that just rose his blood pressure. He could feel it in his neck.

"Joong!" It was Seonghwa.

His voice was strained, distorted by the wind and Hongjoong could pee himself in relief from how quick his muscles relaxed at hearing his voice. "Joong, get off the roof! We’re five minutes out, but they’ve got a marksman somewhere near the wall! Get down, now!"

Hongjoong’s finger hesitated this time, and his voice cracked. His composure was cracking for the first time since this mess started. "Hwa?”

He hated how small he sounded, but he hadn’t seen his mate in a week. “A-Are you okay? Where are Yunho and Jongho?"

"We're all here, but the Nams aren't just at the docks—it was a ploy! They wanted us out of the house!" A red dot suddenly danced across the white railing, inches from Hongjoong's hand and Seonghwa’s shouting simmered into something a lot more somber. “They wanted you.”

"Get down!" Wooyoung screamed, lunging for Hongjoong’s waist.

The world tilted as Wooyoung tackled him to the flat of the roof just as a bullet whizzed through the space where Hongjoong had been a second before, shattering the jar of honeyed Twizzlers into a thousand glittering shards. Hongjoong watched in horror as his snacks littered the floor. His snacks! They were only thing he could keep down ever since Mingi left.

He should have been grateful that he hadn’t died, but Hongjoong wasn’t exactly right in the head now.

He shoved Wooyoung off him, grabbing his gun again, rage making his nostrils flare. He ignored the shrieks of his alpha, begging him to duck with him, but Hongjoong wasn’t listening. They didn’t know how hard it was to find food that he could stomach!  They didn’t know how much his portions had grown, making him feel like the greediest person in the room.

They were on his property. They were trying to break into his home. They fucked up his snack time!

He didn’t stand up all the way, he wasn’t an idiot, but he did roll onto his stomach. “Mama’s sorry, little jellyfish,” Hongjoong’s voice was a haunting lullaby to the fetus. He removed one hand from the gun to pat his belly.  “We’ll eat lots of good things after, I promise.” He crawled gingerly over the mess of glass and honey, his firearm paving the way for him. He hissed when he felt a couple pieces slice his palms, but he kept going.

He had no need for the scope this time, adrenaline had given his vision almost feral clarity. After a rapid scan, he located the sniper: a miniscule glint on the far-right ridge of his garden wall, about three hundred yards out. If the idiot hadn’t moved, he wouldn’t have spotted him. But Hongjoong seemed to have been cursed (or blessed, in this case) to deal with all levels of stupidity today.  

He shoved the gun in space between the pillars of the balcony, mimicking the sniper, and sent three rounds screaming towards the ridge, biting his lip at the force of the recoil.  His lower back was screaming at him, but he couldn’t quit. He didn’t wait to watch this body fall either; he pivoted towards the north gate when an SUV was being used as a battering ram to take down the gate.

They were just making everything so easy for him, weren’t they?

“Wooyoung stop all that crying and tell me how far my husband is!?”

“M not crying,” he muttered, but Hongjoong could smell the salt on him and rolled his eyes at the alpha. Wooyoung’s fingers trembled as he fumbled with the comms unit he yanked from his pocket. He took a jagged breath, trying to steady his hand to get a clear reading.

“Three minutes!” Wooyoung shouted over the next discharge of Hongjoong’s rifle. “They’re clearing the final bend! Sannie said if he sees a single scratch on you, he’s going to burn Busan’s coastline to the ground!”

“Tell him to save his breath for the cleanup,” Hongjoong grunted as a piece of glass stuck him in the elbow.

The recoil of the third shot sent a sharp jolt through his shoulder, and right into his freshly torn up elbow, making him gasp. This time, it rang through his muscles in a way he knew he was going to feel for the next week or so.  

Hongjoong grit his teeth and tried to set himself to start firing again, but a tiny flutter from his stomach made him freeze.

He looked down for a split second, a fatal move at a time like this, his hand hovering over his bump. “Hello there, little one,” he whispered to the baby, his eyes wide with wonder, and voice an insane contrast to the smoke rising from his barrel. “Give me a couple of minutes, and I’ll greet you properly.”

Down at the gate, the SUV had managed to shove the gate off its hinge, but the driver was slumped over the wheel, the windshield shattered and covered with a fan of blood, courtesy of Hongjoong’s godly precision. Two more men scrambled out of the back doors, using the vehicle as cover, but they were pinned. They hadn't expected a sniper from the roof, especially not one with a personal vendetta over licorice.

“Hyung, the ridge!” Wooyoung shouted, as he tossed an empty clip aside and reloaded.

Hongjoong had just whirled around when he spotted another glint in his peripheral. Not the first sniper, but a backup. The muzzle flash was instantaneous.

Hongjoong rolled, ignoring the sting of honey-coated glass slicing into his palms. The bullet ricocheted off the stone railing with a high-pitched ping, sending sparks flying.

“That’s it,” Hongjoong hissed. He had no patience in dealing with them one by one;  he wanted them gone. He reached into his other pocket and pulled out a small, sleek detonator—a gift from Mingi for 'emergencies’. The younger omega took great care in making sure he always had it on him. “Woo, cover your ears.”

“Wait, hyung, what is—?”

Hongjoong didn’t answer. He pressed the thumb-pad.

The North gate fucking evaporated with a metallic bang, impossibly loud. The flowerbeds he’d spent all spring tending went up in a glorious, terrifying plume of fire and earth. The shockwave rattled the roof tiles, sending a cloud of dust into the air that momentarily obscured the entire property line.

In the sudden, ringing silence that followed, the distant roar of a modified engine became a scream. Hongjoong stuck a finger in his ear to rid himself of the annoying ringing sound and turned to look at Wooyoung to make sure he was still with him. His mouth was still agape in shock, and his hands hadn’t moved from his ears just yet. They both turned at the sound of tires screeching up their driveway.

A black sedan, one of theirs thank God, tore through the smoke of the decimated gate, tires screeching as it drifted onto the gravel path. It was followed closely by two more and they didn't stop until they were practically underneath the balcony.

Seonghwa was out of the car before it had even fully stopped sliding, his long black coat billowing like a dark shadow behind him as he ran towards the house. He didn't look at the burning wreckage behind him. He didn't look at the bodies. He looked up, his face ghostly pale under the even under the bright sun. Hongjoong watched with trembling lips as his alpha stumbled back, clutching a hand to his chest as if his heartbeat had restarted in his chest.

“Hongjoong!”

The sheer volume of the Pack Alpha’s roar was enough to make the remaining Nam stragglers drop their weapons and break for the woods like the cowards they were, lest they wanted to face the alpha’s wrath. Especially not after they had threatened the safety of his pregnant Luna.

Seonghwa disappeared into the house, followed by a frantic Yunho and an urgent moving Jongho. Hongjoong could feel his lips trembling as he took a wobbly step backwards. Wooyoung placed a hand on his back to steady him, but he didn’t remain in his hold for long.

He ran past him and back into the master bedroom. His heart was hammering in his ears, rendering him unaware of the world around him. He threw open the door and ran down the hall, panting heavily while his heart leapt to his throat. Seonghwa had just burst through the front door, his wild eyes locking onto Hongjoong just as he made it to the landing.

His alpha was home!

Tears blurred his vision as he thundered down the stairs, his slippers making rapid little puffing sounds. He needed to be in his arms yesterday! Halfway down, his robe snagged under his foot, and his world tilted forward. He was falling. He had been so patient for an entire week, and he was going to fall down the stairs. He screwed his eyes shut, stretching his arms out so that he could possibly brace his fall.

But the pain never came.

Instead Seonghwa, his life, caught him and cradled him close. One hand pressed Hongjoong’s head into, into his neck while another wrapped around his waist.

He could feel his body melt against him, the humming under his skin quieting at last, and his pulse slowed. He hadn’t realized he was crying until the blood stopped rushing in his ears and he could hear the pathetic sounds coming out of his mouth, followed by the rhythmic hiss of Seonghwa comforting him.

“Oh, my love, my love,” Seonghwa whispered, his own voice thick with emotion. The alpha pulled back and cupped his face a bit too tight. Hongjoong giggled wetly, clutching to the lapels of his stinky coat with the tips of his fingers, the only part of his arms that weren’t all cut up. Seonghwa turned his face this way and that, checking him for injuries even though Hongjoong insisted he was fine.

 Then, just as suddenly, Yunho and Jongho pressed to his sides. Yunho took both of his hands in his own, kissing his bruised knuckles and he tried to fight the jolt his body gave at the sudden attention to his injuries. Jongho ran his thick fingers through the crown of his head.

“Look at you, you made me so worried.” Seonghwa’s voice had relaxed into its low rumble now that he was assured Hongjoong was fine. Or fine enough, his hands hurt like a motherfucker, but he wasn’t going to tell the alpha that just yet.

“Worried?” Hongjoong couldn’t help but laugh, even if he was recovering from the neglect his omega had been feeling since the alphas left. “Pregnancy’s made us soft, eh?”

“It sure did,” Yunho cut in, cradling Hongjoong’s hands. “You’re all sliced up.” He gently turned them over to show Seonghwa and Jongho. All three alphas turned at the same time to stare with round eyes.

What a snitch!

The aftermath the ambush was supposed to be quiet, and so far it had been. His entire pack was home where they belonged, and they were planning a group scenting in his nest later. It was supposed to involve heavy blankets, him bathing Seonghwa’s scent, and a very long, deep sleep.

Instead, it involved a silver armored convoy screeching into the driveway, alerting their cameras.

Hongjoong was sitting on the sofa in the main parlor, wrapped in a fresh robe and clean pajamas, courtesy of Wooyoung. He even put Vicks vapor rub on his feet and trapped the ointment there with fuzzy, light blue socks.  His hands were cut up worse than he thought, deep slices littering his palms and arms. The worse injury so far was the long cut along his elbow.

The healing would take a lot longer to since his body was occupied doing other things. So, after a stern lecture about safety, and a threat to swap all of the dishes in the house with plastic versions of themselves, Jongho carefully cleaned and bandaged each arm up.

Hongjoong felt like he was wearing a decomposed straight jacket. The white robe paired with the mittens and fuzzy socks made him feel like he was a hop, skip and a jump from the attire people wore in an asylum.

Honestly, the way that his packmates were treating him, like he was made of glass, was driving him nuts so he was well on his way.

 Hongjoong was currently being forced to drink a cup of the most disgusting herbal tea ever by Wooyoung, the only alpha who didn’t reek to him, when the doors practically flew off their hinges, and his parents walked in, followed by an apologetic looking Yunho.

“Your parents are here, Joong,” Yunho announced, rather unhelpfully.

"Hongjoong!”

His sire, Madam Kim Hye-jung, the previous head of the Kim Family, strode into the room first.

She was a formidable alpha woman with sharp, foxlike eyes and a long scar running down her jawline. She was dressed in a tailored charcoal suit, and black shiny kitten heels. She always had kept her hair in a slightly overgrown pixie, and her eyeliner sharp. Now that she was older, simple mascara sufficed, making her look a little softer. Her presence radiated a cold, calculated power. But that wasn’t who had shouted. Rushing from behind her, looking like a literal whirlwind of lace and panic, his dam, Kim Mi-ok.

 He was wearing an ankle length, sheer lace coat, dotted with primroses. Underneath was a beige, sleeveless blouse, tucked into ankle length tan slacks. His heeled boots clacked rapidly on the floor as he ran towards him.

His dam didn't even wait for his sire to speak. He lunged across the room, nearly knocking the tea out of Wooyoung’s hand as he gathered Hongjoong into a suffocatingly tight embrace.

“Dad--! I can’t breathe!”

"My baby! My poor, sweet, murderous baby!" his Dam wailed. Pulled back to shake Hongjoong first like he was trying to make sense of him, then burying his face in Hongjoong’s neck and sniffing frantically. "I can still smell the debris on you! I knew it! I told your mother the Nams were getting bold, but did she listen? No!" Mi-ok’s voice crumbled again, “she never listens to me.”

"Dad, I’m fine! How did you even hear about that so fast? It happened yesterday!" Hongjoong grunted, trying to wiggle his arms free though it was quite difficult without his hands. "Besides, I blew them up, remember?"

His Dam pulled back, his eyes red-rimmed and wide with horror. “You did what?!”

He was usually very composed and soft-spoken, but right now he looked ready to faint. He immediately dropped to his knees, placing both hands over Hongjoong’s bump with a reverent, terrified touch.

"The little jellyfish! Is it okay? Did the shockwave rattle it? Oh, look at you, you’re pale!” He reached up to Hongjoong’s face, patting it with the back of his hand, “Have you lost weight?" Then he turned to his mother barking, “Hye! Get my blood pressure cup out of the car!”

"Daddy, I’m fine," Hongjoong sighed, looking up at his Sire for help.

His mother didn't offer comfort, nor did she stop her husband. She stood at the edge of the rug, her arms crossed, eyeing the AR-15 that was still leaning against the side table, wearily. Hongjoong could tell she was worried and finally managed to pull out Mi-ok’s grasp. He placated him with a bandaged hand to the top of his head. “Mom, I’m fine, I promise. It’s just my hands.”

Hye-jung remained quiet, but she nodded and made her way to sit in the chair closest to the couch. She nodded at Wooyoung, who bowed in return.

"I heard you got into a disagreement with your grandfather," she said, her voice like grinding stones. Her face gave away nothing, but her dark eyes glittered at him as she waited for a response. Hongjoong really didn't want to talk about it, but there was no dodging from his mother. His father gave up easily, but his mother...

"I did," Hongjoong admitted, pursing his lips. S

She snorted, her eyes fluttering with amusement. "His toes, Joongie?"

Hongjoong grinned, slightly unhinged. He ignored the confused sound Wooyoung made, and the heavy, disappointed sigh from his dam. "I can't control what my omega wants to do. I just give him the reigns."

"Hm," she nodded. She had always been a woman of few words, but Hongjoong could smell her pride in the air, so he smiled to himself, and continued to stroke his father’s head. Her voice was a bit more colorful when she spoke again, she smirked, "Your father has been crying since we hit the city limits, but I told him you were a Kim."

"A Kim who is pregnant!" his dam shrieked, standing up to point an accusing finger at his wife. “What is wrong with you people?! Pregnant people should not be in the center of a war—”

He cut himself when Seonghwa, giggling softly with San, walked in. Both were out of their work clothes and in light loungewear. Seonghwa’s hair was out of its slicked back style and curled around his ears, while San’s gelled and side part was traded for his soft bangs falling over his forehead.

The pack alpha froze at the sight of the elder. His eyes darted towards Hye-jung who only offered him a tiny smirk, before they returned to his dam.

 "You! Alpha!” Mi-ok barked. “How could you let this happen? My son should be in a nest made of the finest silk, not crawling over glass on a balcony like some sort of- of- “He went red in the face as he searched for the word he was looking for. His wife watched on, amused. “Guerrilla soldier!"

Seonghwa bowed his head apologetically, while San bowed in greeting, stifling a smile behind tucked lips. "Yes, sir. It won't happen again."

"It better not!" the Dam huffed, turning back to Hongjoong and began to obsessively straighten his robe. Hongjoong knew better than to stop him, he only moved his restricted hands out of the way, and let them fall to his sides.

"I'm staying.” Mi-ok declared. “We're both staying. I’m moving into the guest wing, and I’m personally overseeing the kitchen. No more garbage! You need bone broth and routine!"

Hongjoong groaned, sinking deeper into the sofa. "Hwa, help me." But his dam was faster. He whirled around, nostrils flaring.

“No, alpha, stay right there.”

It took a total of 3 hours to get his parents completely moved in, and thirty minutes after that for Hongjoong’s dam to try and take over setting up his nest. The two of them had bickered over which pillow should go behind Hongjoong’s head until Seonghwa piped up and said he didn’t think it mattered.

“Well, good thing we didn’t ask you!”

 He was promptly removed from their vicinity.

Now, they were curled up comfortably in Hongjoong’s nest, with Yunho’s tablet balanced over his belly. His dam was right next to him, his travel clothes swapped for something nest-friendly, aka doused in pack scents. It made his sire bristle when she walked in the room with her work laptop. Though she said nothing when she settled into the rocking chair close by and continued to say nothing when Hongjoong tossed a scented baby blanket over her lap.

“I like that horse rocker thing,” his dam said, leaning over to press the toy. It was made for little feet, the bodice plush but reinforced with hardened plastic underneath so that it didn’t just fall apart. It was cute, but Hongjoong rolled his eyes.

“Dad, it’s going to be years before the baby will actually use it,” he sighed, clicking away. “You and San are the same person,  I swear.“

“Don’t swear!”

Hongjoong stared at him.

“Anyway, we should get something useful, like a cute wipe dispenser.”  He pressed one that was the same shade of white as his firearm, with a light blue cloud on the front of it. He put it in his cart immediately.

“I still think we should get the rocker,” Mi-ok huffed with a pout, identical to his own, but he let it go for now. He shifted to his back to stare at the ceiling quietly and Hongjoong was grateful for the silence. “What about the nursery? I’m thinking of a sage green for the walls. You know how you kids are with the gender-neutral stuff.”

“I was actually thinking gray for the walls.”

His dad squawked, sitting up, while his pheromones flared, indignant. He smelled of lemon blossoms and disbelief and Hye-jung set down her newspaper with a quiet sigh.

“Gray?! Why do you want little jellyfish to think it’s being raised in a meat locker?” he cried, indignant. Hongjoong tossed the tablet aside to narrow his eyes at the older omega.

“Mi-ok,” Hye-jung warned lowly, but she went on to be ignored.

“It’s not a meat locker, Dad, it’s modern,” Hongjoong retorted, his bandaged mitten hands waving uselessly in the air. He turned to Hye-jung to insist his father was being unreasonable, but his eyes shifted slightly past her to the air purifier by the window. It looked wrong. He pointed it out with a taped finger. “Did you move that?”

His dam paused his ranting to turn to look at the purifier before he sucked his teeth. “Oh yeah! I jammed my foot against it earlier after you put me in these sweltering clothes.  I moved it so that it wasn’t in the way.”

Indignation flared hot in his chest. Hongjoong had purposefully angled it towards the nest because sometimes their combined scents got too much and would linger in the air like a cloud. But he didn’t want to open a window and get rid of them completely. It had taken him forever to find the perfect spot and his dam ruined it!

He opened his mouth to really let him have it, when Mingi entered carrying a tray and smelling of a truce. Both omegas stared at him as he regarded them with a soft smile and a bow.

“Okay, everyone” Mingi cooed, as he shuffled deeper into the room, his voice deep and his scent soothing. He slid the tray onto a stack of discarded pillows, Hongjoong could see that there was a bunch of chopped fruit sorted by color. A peace offering. When he glanced, his dam was already looking at him skeptically.

 “How about I help you up, and you and abeoji can move the purifier together?  That way it can be in the perfect spot, and out the way so no one trips on it.”

He leaned down to press a kiss to Hongjoong’s temple, and Hongjoong squinted at him as he settled at the edge of his nest. He bounced once after dropping his large body on the plush material, and Hongjoong wanted to kick him to the floor. Instead, he clutched his blanket against his chest.

“Mingi, who’s side are you even on?”

“I’m on the side of no fighting, hyung,” Mingi then leaned in close, their noses bumping, pulling something out of his pocket. His Twizzlers! He set them on Hongjoong’s thigh, as he beamed at him. “I also brought these. Don’t tell Seonghwa. Or Wooyoung. I told them it was those organic seaweed snacks.”

He patted Mingi’s arm with a bandaged hand, and a toothy grin. “You’ve officially become my favorite, Minnie.”

The younger omega preened with a grin and puckered his lips for a kiss. Hongjoong groaned playfully but obliged and pressed a wet smack to his lips. He was still smiling as he peered down at his bag of snacks and humming happily when he pulled one out. Mingi slid fully into the nest, tucking himself against Hongjoong’s swollen belly, and rested a large hand at the top.

Hongjoong purred, happy that his omega was tucked against his scent gland. had just shoved two Twizzlers in his mouth when his sire reached forward from her seat to place a hand on his knee.

“I don’t mean to disturb, but your father has forced Seonghwa to take him to the nursery, darling. You better hurry before he takes over everything.”

True to her words, his dam was nowhere to be seen. All that was left of him was his butt imprint in Hongjoong’s sheets and his door open. He felt a cold sweat start at the back of his neck and hurried to kick his blankets off.

“Mingi help me up! This is an emergency!”

Hongjoong didn’t even wait for him to reach a hand out, despite the command. Mingi let out an ‘oof’ as Hongjoong used his shoulder as a launch-pad and ran out of the room. His robe was a silk cape behind him and his bare feet slapped at the cold floor.

They were all in the nursery, gazing around the slightly bare room. It wouldn’t be bare much longer if Hongjoong’s dam had anything to say about it.

There stood Mi-ok, hands on his hips, pointing a judgmental finger at the empty corner where the crib was supposed to go. Seonghwa stood beside him, looking very unsure of anything.

"And here," his dam was saying, his voice echoing in the sparse room, "is where the horse rocker is going to go. It’ll catch the light perfectly. Seonghwa, dear, tell me you agree that gray is for prisons, not infants."

"I... well," Seonghwa stammered, catching sight of Hongjoong in the doorway. His eyes pleaded for a rescue. "Hongjoong has a very specific vision for the aesthetic, abeoji..."

“You will call me sir!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Dad!” Hongjoong barked, and his dam turned. He smiled at him, before rushing forward to grab his shoulders.

"Ah, Hongjoong! What do you think of sage? It’s the color of new growth and its calming!" his Dam insisted, waving a paint swatch under Hongjoong’s nose. Where did he even get that--He smacked it away with a glare.

"It’s the color of pea soup, Dad! It’s nasty!" Hongjoong barked back, his voice cracking with frustration. "I want slate! It’s clean! It’s modern! It doesn't look like a nursery for a baby who’s going to grow up and own a florist shop!"

"A florist shop?! I am trying to preserve his innocence! You want him to sleep in a bunker!"

"You’re acting like it’s the only color that I’m painting the room,” Hongjoong cut himself off with a groan. “I don’t even know why I’m explaining this to you! It’s my baby! It’s my house! "

"And I am your Dam! I know what a nesting omega needs better than you do!"

The air in the room spiked. The friction was so high that Mingi, who was trying to busy himself by quietly organizing a drawer of tiny socks, accidentally dropped a pair.

Hongjoong opened his mouth to deliver a scathing retort about "outdated Omega instincts,’ but something shifted. Maybe it was the weight of the baby sitting a bit too heavy, the stinging pain in his bandaged palms, or just the sheer exhaustion of defending his home from a horrible floral-print invasion.

His lower lip gave a traitorous wobble.

His eyes were suddenly flooded with tears. One big, fat droplet rolled down his cheek, followed immediately by a hitched, pathetic sob. He shuffled over to the white rocking chair in the corner of the room and plopped himself in it.

The silence that followed was instantaneous.

"Joongie?" his Dam whispered, his posture deflating like a popped balloon.

Hongjoong didn't say anything. He just covered his face with a bandaged hand, his shoulders shaking. He was trying to take deep breaths, but it was harder to do when he was already getting ready to cry. "I just... I just want one thing," he hiccupped, his voice small and devastated.  "I just want the walls to be gray. Is that... is that too much to ask? I’m already sweaty just from fucking standing here and I can't use my hands..."

"Oh—oh, no. No, no, no! My baby! My little puppy don't cry! I’m sorry!" The Dam lunged forward, kneeling in front of Hongjoong. His hands gripped his knees, rubbing soothing circles into his kneecaps. Or the plush fat where his kneecaps used to be.  "Gray! We'll do gray! We can do a deep charcoal or- or we’ll do cloud gray! Whatever you want baby, I promise!"

"Really?" Hongjoong sniffled, rubbing his wet eyes with the back of a fuzzy white bandage, feeling incredibly small even as he looked down at his father.

"Yes! Yes, of course! Seonghwa!" the Dam roared toward the hallway, his voice returning to its commanding strength. "Put an order in for the paint! Throw the sage swatches in the trash! Burn them!"

Seonghwa didn't wait to be told twice. He practically sprinted quietly away from the doorway, disappearing somewhere into the house.

Hye-jung strolled in smugly, patting her husband on the shoulder. "I told you he wanted gray," she murmured.

"Not now, woman! Our baby is distraught!" Mi-ok snapped, though he was now hovering over Hongjoong, frantically wiping his face with a silk handkerchief. "Are you hungry? Do you want Twizzlers? I'll let you have the Twizzlers for lunch. Just stop crying, please, honey?"

Mingi materialized beside them like the perfect omega mate he was, expertly sliding a pillow behind Hongjoong’s back and handing him a fresh glass of water.

"There we go," he soothed, after Hongjoong gulped the water down and handed back glass. He leaned back in the rocking chair, allowing both omegas to scent him into something gooey and soft. "See? Everything is going to be gray and perfect." Mingi purred, nuzzling his cheek against Hongjoong's face. "Why don't we go back to the nest and look for some stuff to buy with Seonghwa’s black card?"

"Yes," Mi-ok agreed fervently with wide eyes, gently helping Hongjoong out of the chair, and tucked a piece of curly red hair behind his ear. "That sounds perfect, doesn’t it my love? Let's go, all that crying must have puckered you out, hm?"

Hongjoong woke up the next morning squeezed in between Yunho and Jongho. A lovely place to be, honestly. The scent of fresh bread and warm sugar on his back, while he had daisies and cinnamon pressed to his front. Jongho had his strong arms wrapped under his belly, while his face was smushed against his nape. Yunho had tossed his leg over them both, trying to cradle them to his chest best he could, all while being mindful of Hongjoong’s little belly.

He was so warm and so very comfortable. He would love to stay longer, but the baby was hungry and there was a box of grandma cookies in the pantry calling his name.

 He rolled backwards until Jongho was off him. Then, he tossed Yunho’s arm aside. Or at least he tried to. The heavy limb smacked him right in the face when he tried to sit up. He growled and threw it with even more force, and this time he was finally freed.

His alphas were still knocked out even after all of that, so Hongjoong shuffled down the cushions and slipped right into his slippers of the day, dark green T-rex slippers that made soft poofing sounds with each step he took.

The rest of his pack seemed to be mulling around the house today, with the addition of his parents of course. All scents were accounted for, he deduced from a deep inhale,  so it must be a slow day today.

He shuffled down the stairs in his giant Minnie Mouse sleep shirt (courtesy of Mingi) that reached his knees. He only wore undies underneath. He could do that; it was his house.

 He yawned widely, scratching his belly, as he shuffled through the arched walkway that opened into the kitchen, to see a jean-ed booty wriggling in his pantry. He sniffed the air as the residuals of sleep left him in his surprise. It was his dad.

“Dad?” he called, creeping closer. “What are- DAD, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! STOP!”

Hongjoong clutched his hair in despair as he watched his beloved grandma cookies get tossed into a floating trashcan, followed by his box of Twinkies. He would have fallen to his knees if he could get back up easily but--Wait, floating trashcan? He frowned and stomped closer, his T-Rex slippers poofing furiously. He wrenched the door aside to see—

“Choi San!?” he bellowed in betrayal. The alpha’s head snapped up at the sound of his voice, his feline eyes wide with guilt. His mouth dropped open, probably to feed Hongjoong some bullshit excuse, but then he heard the distant footsteps of someone jogging towards them.

“Okay, Master Kim, I threw away all of the spicy stuff—”

“Kang Yeosang?!”

The most darling of his alphas were currently carrying out an act of mutiny with his own dam, his blood?! He was going to faint.

“L-Luna!” Yeosang greeted warmly despite the stutter of betrayal.  He beamed at Hongjoong with that smile of his. On a normal day where he wasn’t being treacherous, Hongjoong would have found it cute, but he was feeling light-headed with rage. “What are you doing out of your nest?”

So this was planned?

Hongjoong wanted to kill him. Hongjoong needed to sit down. Hongjoong was going to kill them.

“Joongie, calm down,” his dam finally spoke up, looking entirely unamused while clutching a super family size box of Frosted Flakes in his claws. He waved the box, unimpressed, at the panty.  “All this shit in here is a metabolic nightmare for the jellyfish. I’ve seen less sugar in a diabetic coma ward. Have you even heard of a vegetable this trimester? Maybe a fruit? Remember those?”

“Where is your wife?”

“Am I my alpha’s keeper?”

Hongjoong couldn’t take it anymore.

“Yeosang, San.” Each alpha perked up at the call of his name. “You will be sleeping anywhere else but my nest until further notice.” He narrowed his eyes at them, and they shrunk back. “Figure something the fuck out.”

Then he turned to his dam. “And you,” he shook his fist at Mi-ok, who only stuck his tongue out at him. “Ooh! Fuck!” He needed to hit something, and he knew damn well he wasn’t winning a fight against the man who knew where all his pressure points were. “Where is my husband?”

“Which one?” his dam sneered, checking the date on a jar of maraschino cherries before tossing them in the trash.

Hongjoong bared his teeth, trying to keep from growling. “Seonghwa.”

Mi-ok tossed the cereal box into the awaiting trashcan with a hum as he thought, and Hongjoong had to shut his eyes. “He should be in the boardroom. Some sort of negotiation about the Ilsan—”

Hongjoong didn’t wait to hear the rest, turning on his heel and storming further into the house.

He didn’t knock, and he sure didn’t announce his presence. He was sure whoever was in the office could smell him way before he even got there. He shoved the meeting door open, glaring at the unmemorable faces of the visiting alphas in his home.

Seonghwa was sitting at the head of table with Mingi on his left. His hair fell in waves just shy of his shoulders. He was wearing his chunky glasses today, Hongjoong’s favorite pair on him and a silk, black robe with a matching chemise underneath. Mingi hadn’t even bothered to come out of his pajamas, but he was alert. His dark eyes hidden behind the nerdy glasses Hongjoong loved so much on him, and glued to the laptop  in front of him.

“D-Don Kim--!”

“Seonghwa!” Hongjoong barked right over the sad attempt to greet him. “Your father-in-law is unlawfully practicing medicine in my pantry, and he’s recruited my babies for his hit squad! How could you let that happen while I slept?!”

The entire boardroom was dead silent, the discussions of who was getting what completely forgotten. The visiting alphas from Ilsan, hardened men who dealt in contraband and territory disputes, stared wide-eyed at the small, pregnant omega in T-Rex slippers and a sleep shirt that barely covered the family jewels.

Seonghwa’s gaze softened instantly, his predatory posture melting into something much more attentive.

"The pantry?" Seonghwa asked, his voice smooth as silk. He ignored the terrified delegates, sliding his chair back to let Hongjoong into his lap. He placed a soothing hand at the base of his spine, right above the swell of his ass. "Your dam told me he was making tea, beloved."

"He’s doing a 'nutritional intervention'!" Hongjoong whined, much calmer now that he was in his alphas, lap but gesturing wildly behind him toward the kitchen. "My Twinkies, Hwa! He’s tossing them like they’re contraband! He told me the baby was going into some sort of metabolic whatever-the-fuck over some cake!"

Mingi, who had looked intimidating beside Seonghwa, let out a snort.  His plush lips twisted into half a smirk as he pushed up his glasses. "I mean...abeoji is a nurse practitioner, hyungie. abeoji basically knows—"

Hongjoong’s head snapped toward Mingi, his eyes flashing something dangerous. "If you finish that sentence, you’re sleeping in the kennel with the dogs, omega. Do you really want to defend the man who just threw away my Frosted Flakes?"

Mingi immediately put his hands up, sinking into his pajama silk. "What, the cereal, too? No. Oh no, that’s unforgivable. I’m on your side."

“Thought so.”

Seonghwa gently stood Hongjoong of his lap before he followed, the hem of his black robe brushing the floor. He ran a hand down Hongjoong’s spine and fixed the delegates with a bored expression. They were looking anywhere but at the domestic display in front of them.

"Gentlemen, the terms remain as stated. Sign the documents or don't; I find my priorities have shifted."

The lead delegate scrambled to sign the papers, his hand shaking. He practically shoved the folder toward Mingi before bowing and ushering his men out of the room. They fled as if the T-Rex slippers were a sign of impending doom, and with the way Hongjoong felt his lower lip wobbling, doom was certain.

Once the door shook shut, Seonghwa wrapped his arms around Hongjoong’s waist, and pulling him flush against his chest. "Deep breaths, Joongie-yah."

"Don't you start," Hongjoong grumbled, though he melted into his hold, his nose burying into the crook of Seonghwa’s neck. "He’s being a bully. Just because he spends twelve hours a day charting patients doesn't mean he gets to chart my breakfast."

"He's just worried," Seonghwa murmured, his large hand coming down to rest on the curve of Hongjoong's belly, running a soothing hand over the taught skin. "But I agree, we have to start putting fruits into your diet."

"I've already banished San and Yeosang," Hongjoong muttered into his silk robe. “You wanna be next?”

Seonghwa chuckled, the vibration rumbling against Hongjoong’s chest, like Hongjoong wasn’t being serious. He might have been sated now, but he was dead ass about making Yeosang and San sleep outside.  "I’ll go deal with your dam. I'll tell him that if he doesn't stop throwing food away, I'll eomeoni he's been working overtime again."