queenofhalloween94

[queenofhalloween94]

Master List: 8 is Fate Ch List

Ch 3 Summary: A nightmare has

Y/n's flight instincts kicking in, will the pack realize before its too late?

Warnings: mentioned heat abuse, homelessness, starving, mate bonds, ruts/heats, not medically accurate pregnancy, a/b/o dynamics

Echoes in the Dark

The guest room is quiet. Too quiet. The scent of lavender floats around you, soft and slow like a lullaby. The blanket is warm, the mattress cradles you gently, and for the first time in months, you’ve eaten a full meal.

But sleep doesn’t come easy.

Your body lays still, but your instincts don’t rest. The silence hums in your ears like a warning. Your wolf doesn’t trust this comfort. Not yet. Not when everything feels too safe.

You drift in and out. Dreams blur with memory. And then—

He’s there.

The rogue. His scent—burnt copper and pine—fills your nose. His teeth flash in a feral grin, the alley around you twisting, shrinking. You can’t breathe. You can’t run. You try to scream, but the sound won’t come out. Big hands on your shoulders. A voice, hot and wet in your ear. "Omega."

You jolt upright, drenched in sweat, gasping. You scramble out of bed, legs shaking, back pressed against the wall. The room is too dark. You can’t see the corners. You can’t smell anything but the echo of your fear.

You have to get out. NOW

The pup kicks in your belly—sharper this time. Not in pain, but startled. You press a hand to your abdomen, whispering softly. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

You scan the room. No doors are locked. No shadows move. But the panic is real. So is the instinct clawing through your skin.

You move fast.

You dress in the hoodie and sweatpants they gave you—soft, oversized, not your own—but they’ll have to do. You don’t take the food left on the nightstand. You don’t touch anything but what’s on you.

You leave through the side door Felix had cracked earlier for fresh air, barely registering the soft glow from the hallway. Your feet hit the cold pavement. The spring night air bites through the cotton. The wind howls gently through the trees.

And you walk.

You don’t look back.

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The sky starts to lighten, painted in streaks of gray and dusty blue. You’ve made it a couple miles, maybe more. You pass a bakery truck unloading early deliveries. You dodge glances from early joggers. You sit on a bench near a little park—old, worn, the kind with peeling paint and rusted bolts.

That’s when it hits you.

The cramp.

A sharp stab just beneath your belly button, not from the pup—but from your own body screaming at you. You’re hungry. Too hungry. That bowl of soup and rice barely scratched the surface. Your omega needs more now. You need more now.

You curl in on yourself on the bench, arms around your bump, heart pounding. Your breath is ragged. You don’t want to cry, but your eyes are stinging.

You left. You left the first safe place you’ve had in months, and now you’re back on a park bench hoping no one dangerous walks by before sunrise.

“What the hell is wrong with me,” you whisper, voice cracking.

But you already know.

You were afraid.

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Back at the house, Felix leans forward in his gaming chair, headset half-on, eyes flickering between the screen and the hallway. He’s been playing for hours, mind half-focused on some dungeon crawl that ended hours ago. But something feels off. A pressure in his chest. A wrong note in the scent-trail lingering down the stairs.

He pulls off his headset, sniffing the air. His brow furrows. He gets up. Quiet. Barefoot. He peeks into the guest room. Empty.

Blanket: folded. Clothes: gone. Mug of water: untouched.

He checks the bathroom. The back patio. The garden. “Shit,” he hisses. He races upstairs.

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You sit hunched on the bench, arms wrapped around your middle, breath misting in the pre-dawn chill. The cramp has faded to a dull ache, but the hunger is still there—pressing, gnawing, demanding. It’s louder now that everything else has quieted. Now that your panic has ebbed and only shame remains.

You rub your bump gently, whispering, “I know, baby. I know. I’m sorry.” The pup rolls beneath your hand, not in distress—just restless. As if they’re waiting, too. You lean your head back and stare at the sky as it shifts from slate gray to faint lilac. The quiet of the world is crushing.

You left a warm bed. You left food, safety, the scent of the bond pulsing gently beneath your skin.

And yet…

You had to.

You had to prove to yourself you could. Because if you let yourself lean on them now, and they left—or changed their minds—or decided you weren’t worth the effort— it would break you. Again.

So you sit on a cold bench, clutching your stomach, fighting sleep and regret.

And try not to cry.

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Felix stumbles down the hallway barefoot, hoodie half-zipped, heart hammering in his chest. “Y/N?” he calls softly, peeking into the quiet living room. “Hey, are you awake?”

Nothing.

He turns the corner toward the kitchen and nearly crashes into someone solid.

Minho.

Hair mussed. Wearing flannel pajama pants and a faded t-shirt with one sleeve slipping off his shoulder. One brow raised. “Why are you sneaking around like a burglar at 4 a.m.?”

Felix’s mouth opens, then closes. “She’s gone.”

Minho’s face freezes. “Gone?”

“Her room’s empty. Clothes gone. She didn’t take anything else. She must’ve left in the middle of the night.”

Minho blinks slowly. His jaw tightens. He doesn’t panic—but something shifts in his stance. He sets down the water glass he was carrying and grabs his car keys from the hook near the door. “Let’s go.”

Felix follows without another word.

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Thank you for reading!!

[queenofhalloween94]

Master List: CTB Ch List

Ch 7 Summary: The pack discusses Y/n being a human, Hyunjin deals with his reaction to Y/n’s scent on his own. Y/n is surprised how much she misses Binnie once he leaves.

Warnings:🔞 read at your own risk, smutty things happen eventually, tons of angst, shifters shifting forms

Heavy Things in Quiet Rooms

The house always felt different when one of them was carrying something they couldn’t say out loud. And tonight, that person was Changbin.

The rest of the pack could sense it before he even spoke—some sixth sense built from years of living shoulder-to-shoulder, fighting beside each other, bleeding and healing together. Changbin walked like his bones were heavier. Like the ground wasn’t quite solid under his feet.

He didn’t talk much after coming back. Just sat at the end of the kitchen table in a fresh shirt, hands around a half-empty glass of water, jaw tight, gaze distant. 

Han flopped dramatically across the opposite end of the table, still in your old tank top, completely unbothered by the awkwardness. “So I’m just saying—her cat liked me . That’s rare. I could live there.”

“No, you couldn’t,” Seungmin muttered without looking up from his book.

“I was helpful!”

“You climbed in her cabinet.”

“I was exploring ! I’m a squirrel, not a vase.”

From the other side of the room, Hyunjin said nothing. Just sipped his tea, eyes flicking toward Changbin now and then when he thought no one noticed.

But someone did notice.

Chan.

Always.

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching Changbin’s profile as if he could see the storm moving behind his ribs. Eventually, when the noise died down, Chan spoke. “Wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Changbin didn’t answer at first. “She’s human.”

The words landed like a weight dropped in the middle of the room. Everyone fell quiet.

It wasn’t a surprise—Changbin had said as much during the initial mind link. But this wasn’t about the fact. It was about what it meant.

Because having a human mate wasn’t just unusual. It was dangerous. They were fragile. Unbonded. Unshifted. Untrained. And they died easily, at least easier than shifters did.

“She doesn’t know anything about us,” Changbin added, voice low. “She didn’t even believe I was real at first. Thought I was… a drunk dream or something.”

“Did you tell her the truth?” Han asked from where he sat cross-legged on the floor.

“Some of it. That I’m a shifter. That I wasn’t gonna hurt her. That I want to see her again.”

Chan nodded slowly. “And how’d she take it?”

“She didn’t scream.”

“Low bar” Minho muttered.

Changbin huffed something that might’ve been a laugh. But it didn’t reach his eyes. “I keep thinking she’s gonna wake up one day and realize how insane it all is. That I’m part animal. That I live in the woods with a bunch of scent-happy weirdos. That I’m not safe. Not stable. Not human.”

“She snuggled you in bear form,” Han said, pointing at him with a piece of cereal. “I’m just saying, she might be more unhinged than you are.”

“Han.”

“What? It’s cute.”

“It’s complicated.” Changbin said, louder this time.

Everyone fell still.

He ran a hand through his hair. “She’s soft. And tired. And trying so hard to keep her life together. And then I show up and ruin everything.”

“No you didn’t,” Chan said quietly.

“I marked her without meaning to.”

A pause.

Hyunjin’s fingers curled slightly around his cup.

Changbin shook his head. “Not with a bite. Not physically. But she smells like me now. I held her all night. I know the bond hasn’t snapped into place yet but it’s there. I feel it. She doesn’t even know what it means.”

“Do you think she’ll reject it?” Chan asked.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” He looked down at the table. “But I don’t want her to say yes just because I’m strong or patient or offering her something better than what she had. I don’t want pity.”

“Binnie,” Han said, suddenly serious for once. “You’re not pity.”

No one contradicted that. Hyunjin stood quietly, too quietly, and set his cup down with a soft clink. “I’m gonna go check the perimeter,” he said, already moving toward the door.

“Hyunjin,” Chan started.

“Just for a little while.”

Chan let him go. Changbin didn’t see the look in his eyes. But Chan did. And so did Han.

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Hyunjin's POV

The woods were too quiet. He didn’t take the usual patrol route. Instead, he moved through the edge of the boundary—half-expecting something to leap out of the dark and give him an excuse to fight. Claw. Bleed. Anything to distract from the way her scent still curled in his lungs like smoke.

She’s yours too.

No.

She smells like home.

NO!

He walked faster, boots crunching dried pine needles beneath his feet, the trees a blur as he pressed forward, deeper than he needed to go. He didn’t want to be near the house. Near them. Near Changbin. Because that’s where the guilt lived.

And it was loud.

He’d never even seen her. Hadn’t heard her laugh, or felt her touch. But the scent was enough. Like something ancient in him had already chosen, and now every instinct was pacing in his chest like a caged wolf.

She wasn’t just Changbin’s mate. She was his, too. Or would be. If he let it happen. If he admitted the truth. But how the hell was he supposed to do that? What would he say? Hey, sorry you found your soulmate, turns out I did too—and it’s the same girl ?

He pressed his hand to the nearest tree, breathing hard, forehead tipped against the bark. The wind shifted, and for a moment, he swore he could still smell her—on his clothes, in his skin, burned into memory. Soft. Gentle. A hint of sadness under the lavender.

And gods, the way his wolf pulled toward that. It wasn’t just want. It was need.

But he couldn’t betray Bin. Not like that. He’d keep it hidden. For now. Maybe forever. He could survive with longing, if it meant keeping the pack whole. Couldn’t he?

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Y/n POV

You woke up alone. The apartment was quiet—too quiet. No little squirrel paws thumping around, no warm breath beside your shoulder, no faintly amused bear-boy trying not to take up too much space.

Just stillness.

And the scent of them, lingering in the air like an echo. You weren’t even sure when you’d gotten used to it—just that now that it was gone, you noticed.

Your hoodie still smelled faintly like him. Changbin.

You looked at the number on the paper in your hand. His number with a small heart. You put his number in your phone and picked the hoodie back up. You clutched it to your chest for a minute, letting yourself sink into the warmth. It had been less than a day, and still, it felt like something had been… carved open in you. Not in a bad way. Just—changed.

He’d said he’d come back. You believed him. But still, a part of you wondered if the weight of what he’d told you—what he was —would come crashing down now that he wasn’t here to soften it. He was a bear shifter. He had a pack. A life in the woods you couldn’t even begin to understand.

And yet he’d held you like you mattered. Like you were his. You sat up slowly, brushing hair from your face, letting Luna crawl into your lap with a little meow of protest.

“I know,” you whispered, scratching behind her ears. “I miss them too.”

She didn’t purr. But she didn’t move, either. Your phone buzzed beside you.

[Changbin🐻]: It’s Binnie. I just got back. Everyone’s okay. I’ll come see you tomorrow if that’s alright. Let me know if you need anything.

You stared at the screen for a long moment.

[You]: Tomorrow’s okay. Just bring Han. He owes Luna an apology. [Changbin🐻]: He says she started it.

You laughed. You felt a warm feeling in your chest just thinking of him. Ugh you had it bad for this bear.

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**Thank you for reading!!**

[queenofhalloween94]

I feel like such a dummy, I didn't see that part of your note at the end of the last chapter of Omega of the Pack. Ignore my obliviousness lol

All good no worries 😂🥰

[queenofhalloween94]

Omega of the Pack PART ONE?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?! DID I MISS AN ANNOUNCEMENT?!?!?@?

I left an A/n at the end of last chapter 😅 I needed sometime to research some touristy things and to finally figure out how a certain social media account will come into play. 🥰

[queenofhalloween94]

Do you have a tag list for “8 Is Fate”? If you do or are planning on one could I be added?

Indeed I do have one! I’ll add ya! ❤️❤️

[queenofhalloween94]

Master List: 8 is Fate Chapter List

Ch 2 Summary: Y/n goes with the guys back to the pack house. Still cautious in how SKZ pack is caring for you and your pup you take their actions with a grain of salt.

Warnings: mentioned heat abuse, homelessness, starving, mate bonds, ruts/heats, not medically accurate pregnancy, a/b/o dynamics

Quiet Shelter, Cautious Heart

[Group Chat: Stray Pack 🐺🔗]

Han: EMERGENCY. do not ask questions when we walk in. She's here. Our omega. She's pregnant. She's terrified. be calm. She's coming with us.

Chan🐺: confirmed. She’s past the first trimester at least. scared to death. don’t spook her.

Felix🐣: wait… her??  as in—HER her???

Hyunjin🌸: just breathe. she said yes. barely. we’re heading back now.

Jeongin🦊: I’ll prep the guest room. The warm one, low lighting.

Minho😼: Do we have anything for dinner she might actually eat?

Changbin💪: Already heating broth. Light protein, no scents that’ll overwhelm her.

Seungmin🐶: Keep your voices down. Don’t crowd. Don’t stare. She’s running on survival instincts, not trust.

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The car ride is quiet.

You sit curled up in the back seat, bundled in Hyunjin’s jacket, staring blankly out the window. The night blurs by in streaks of orange and gray. The pup shifts occasionally, a soft pressure against your ribs, as if they’re just as unsure as you are.

You still don’t know what you’ve agreed to.

Even now, your body’s tense. Your senses stretched thin. Your fight-or-flight response is still halfway down the block, waiting for a reason to bolt. And yet… their scents curl around you like mist—worn leather, sweet spice, cool rain—and none of them hurt.

Not yet.

Chan glances at you in the rearview mirror every so often, his brows furrowed with quiet concern. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't have to. His presence is calm, grounding. It’s annoying how much it helps.

You hate how tired you feel.

You hate that your fingers twitch to reach for the hand resting open on the center console.

You hate how much you want to trust him.

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The pack house is tucked away on a quiet, tree-lined street near the edge of the city—three stories tall, sprawling and warm, with soft golden lights glowing in the windows. You feel the weight of it the second the car pulls up.

Not just the size. The bond. It hums around the structure like a pulse. Alive. Protective. Waiting.

Your heart races.

Seungmin helps you out first, moving slowly so he doesn’t startle you. The others hang back, giving you space, their body language neutral but alert. A show of restraint.

The door opens before you reach it. Felix stands there, wide eyes shimmering in the porchlight. His voice is a breath. “Hi…”

You don’t know what to say.

Behind him, three more faces appear—Minho, Jeongin, and Changbin. They say nothing at first, just absorb the sight of you like it’s something sacred.

You freeze halfway up the steps. Chan’s hand hovers near your back—not touching, just there. “It’s okay. You can come in. No one’s going to force you to stay.”

Your pulse stutters.

No sudden movements. No letting your guard down. Not yet. You step inside.

The house is… quiet. Not silent. Just soft. There’s a simmering pot on the stove—scented with ginger and something savory that doesn’t turn your stomach. Warm light filters through sheer curtains. The walls are painted with earth tones. Blankets are draped over the couches. A record plays low in another room—lofi instrumentals, soothing and forgettable.

No one tries to talk to you all at once. They don’t circle you or pepper you with questions.

Instead:

Minho silently passes you a cup of water.

Changbin sets a tray of rice and soft vegetables on the table and backs away.

Jeongin turns on a small floor heater near the couch and nudges a pair of fuzzy socks your way.

It’s so gentle, so coordinated, it disorients you more than yelling ever could.

You sit down on the very edge of the couch. You don’t touch the food.

They all give you space. Seungmin joins Jeongin in the kitchen to prep tea. Felix disappears down the hallway, murmuring something about you needing a mini blanket nest. Han and Hyunjin vanish upstairs to prep the guest room—quiet footsteps, the rustle of fresh sheets. Minho lingers on the opposite arm of the sofa, legs crossed, flipping silently through a book. Chan stays close—but not too close.

And still, the bond pulses. Not overpowering. Not demanding. Just… waiting.

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After twenty minutes of staring at the same untouched bowl of food, your stomach growls audibly. Loud. Embarrassing.

Felix reappears just in time with a clean hoodie and sweatpants. “They’ll be big,” he says gently, “but they’re soft. You can change before you eat if that helps?”

You nod. A tight, almost imperceptible movement.

You don’t miss how everyone subtly relaxes at that.

The guest room is dim, warm, and smells faintly of lavender and clean cotton. You change into the clothes, slow and stiff, still expecting the walls to cave in on you. Still half-convinced this is a trick.

But no one follows. No one locks the door.

There are slippers on the rug. A folded blanket. A dim lamp with a twist switch.

You stare at the reflection in the mirror. Your bump is fully visible now.

You rest a hand on it. The pup doesn’t kick. Just settles, comforted.

When you return, they’re still waiting in the living room—scattered, quiet, no one sitting too close together. The food is still warm. A different chair has been set beside the heater now, lined with a blanket and pillow. They’ve created a nest without asking.

You sit in it, slowly. Your hands shake slightly as you lift the spoon. No one comments when you eat half the bowl in six bites. No one stares when you finish all of it. And when you slump back, breath hitching, not from pain but relief —they don’t move closer.

They just… exist beside you. It feels like drowning in silence, but in the best way.

They only learn about the pregnancy details by accident.

“Do you have a prenatal doctor?” Jeongin asks gently while offering you a warm cloth for your hands.

You hesitate. “I’ve been to a few clinics.”

Chan frowns. “Not consistent ones?”

You shake your head. “Can’t afford it. No ID either. I’m… off grid.”

Minho’s hands curl into fists. Felix looks close to tears. But they don’t explode. They don’t react. They listen.

“How long have you been alone?” Hyunjin finally asks, his voice so soft it’s barely a question.

You look down. “Since I was three months my family kicked me out. My heat came early. A rogue caught me on the way home from work.” The words taste like rust. “I told my family. They told me I embarrassed them.” Your voice shakes. “Said no pack would take a knocked-up omega with a bastard rogue pup. So they threw me out.”

You expect silence.

You don’t expect a sound like bones cracking. You glance up—Changbin’s jaw is tight, his shoulders trembling.

“You’ve been alone this whole time? ” Minho asks, voice dangerous. “Sleeping where you could. Eating what you could.”

You nod.

No one moves. But the temperature in the room shifts— protective rage , carefully restrained.

Felix whispers, “You’re not alone now.”

You want to believe him. You ache to believe him. But the fear is still there. The walls are still up.

You whisper, “Don’t expect me to stay. I don’t owe you anything.”

Chan nods. “We’re not here to claim anything. Only offer something.”

“And if I run?”

“We’ll let you.”

“Even if I don’t bond?”

His answer is immediate. “Even then.”

You grip your stomach. The pup rolls lazily, calm. Settled. You’re still afraid. But for the first time…you’re not starving. And that’s enough—for tonight.

🐺🩵🍼🐺🩵🍼🐺🩵🍼🐺🩵🍼

Thank you for reading!!

[queenofhalloween94]

Master List: 8 is Fate Chapter List

Ch 1 Summary: A routine trip to the grocery store brings way more than anyone bargained for.

A/n: Thank you to the wonderful Softjeekies for letting me create my own spin on her plot! Here is a link to her master list for you all to check out her story!

Warnings: mentioned heat abuse, homelessness, starving, mate bonds, ruts/heats, not medically accurate pregnancy, a/b/o dynamics

The Weight of Hunger and Fate

You never thought the first time you’d feel truly alone would be the night your own blood told you to leave.

The front door slammed behind you with a finality that made your knees buckle. The weight of your duffel bag, hastily packed with only what you could grab in thirty seconds, dug into your shoulder like judgment. You stood there on the porch—three months pregnant, the air thick with the echo of your mother’s voice.

"You’ve shamed us. That pup is a rogue’s mistake. You don’t belong here anymore."

The words still ring in your ears months later, no matter how far you walk from them. You had expected anger. Disappointment, even. But not exile. Not the way your father refused to meet your eyes, arms crossed as though disgusted by the sight of you. Not the way your beta brother—who used to braid your hair when you cried as a child—turned away as you sobbed and pleaded.

You were a stain. A scandal. An omega who’d come home late from work one night during a surprise early heat, cornered by a rogue whose scent still haunts your nightmares.

The pregnancy test had been a cruel confirmation that your life was no longer yours.

You spent that first night on a park bench under a flickering streetlight, knees tucked to your chest, hoodie zipped up so tightly your breath came in shallow gasps. That was the night your body began to change—your scent softening, rounding, marking you as expecting. And in that moment, even the shadows felt like threats.

You learned quickly how to disappear. Your days bled into each other in a haze of alleyways and soup kitchens, abandoned storerooms, and bus stations. You lived with your hands in your pockets, your eyes always on the ground. The bump was small then, easy to hide beneath layers. Now, at five months, it presses against the fabric of your worn hoodie, making itself known even when you don’t want it to be.

You’re careful. Always. Because omega shelters aren't safe. They sound nice in theory—warm beds, food, prenatal care. But you know better. You’ve heard the stories: omegas forced into pack arrangements under the guise of "protection," their pups claimed by high-ranking alphas with ties to council members. You watched one girl you met at a train station get "taken in" by a shelter only to disappear two days later. Rumors said she was relocated to a pack across the country. She hadn’t even been allowed to say goodbye.

No one knew what happened to her after that.

So you stayed hidden. Used a fake name at clinics when you could scrounge enough for a checkup. You rationed crackers and water for days. Slept in stairwells. Got sick. Got better. Learned to ignore the ache in your joints and the swelling in your ankles. And still— you survived.

Today, the walk to the store feels longer than usual. The rain pelting down as you walk to the corner store. You get partially wet due to the small holes in the umbrella. You aren’t surprised since it was left on a park bench. You’ve been lightheaded since yesterday morning, the kind of dizzy that comes from not enough protein and too much worry. Your legs hurt. The dull pressure in your back hasn't eased in days. But hunger wins out.

You step into the store with coins in your fist and the weight of five months pressing against your spine like gravity itself is trying to break you.

You don’t cry anymore. There’s no point.

Just count the change. Keep your head down. Hope the security guard doesn’t look at you too long or ask about the bulge beneath your hoodie.

The aisles blur together. You glance at the dented cans, the dried noodles, the cheap boxes of rice. Your stomach lurches at the thought of food, but you know you need it. For the pup.

Your pup.

No matter how they came into the world, they're yours now. The only thing left that hasn't turned its back on you.

Your hand trembles as you hover over a box of instant oatmeal. You could afford it. Barely. But that would leave you nothing for tomorrow. You don’t notice the shift in the air at first. Just a subtle crackle in your chest. Your fingers pause. You straighten slowly, eyes darting around.

Then it hits you.

A scent.

Warm. Familiar. Deep and grounding like cedar and rain. Your omega stirs, uncoils from the numb shell she’s been hiding in. You grip the shelf for balance, heart pounding.

You blink rapidly.

No. No, it can’t be…

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Chan had only come in for eggs.

A quick trip. Get in, get out. The kind of errand that required no attention—until he stepped to the cereal aisle and the world stopped moving.

The scent hit him like a punch to the ribs.

Omega. Grief. Fear. You.

He drops the basket, ignoring the crack as it hits the floor. His heart goes still. “Hyung?” Seungmin asks behind him, eyeing the sudden change in posture. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” Chan’s voice breaks in his throat. “She’s here.”

Hyunjin and Han glance at each other in alarm. It doesn’t take more than a second for all three of them to scent it too. It’s faint but distinct, like sunlight through a fog.

“I know that scent,” Hyunjin murmurs.

Han whispers, “It’s her. From the festival.”

Seungmin’s mouth parts in shock. “Y/N?”

That name had haunted them all. The omega whose presence once brushed against their bond like a spark, then vanished before it could catch fire. Her name had lingered in their memories like a song never finished. It had been years ago, at a music festival, when she’d bumped into Chan—briefly, fleetingly. Her laughter had filled his lungs like wind, her scent wild and unmarked. That one moment had been enough for the bond to root itself inside each of them, faint but undeniable. He had heard her friend call her name, Y/n. They hadn’t been fast enough to follow her to know her then. 

The bond hadn’t been marked, but it had been real.

But Chan remembered. Always.

🐺🩵🍼🐺🩵🍼🐺🩵🍼🐺🩵🍼

You press your palm flat over your stomach, trying to breathe around the sudden heat in your chest. The scent grows stronger. It’s pulling at something inside you, waking up nerves that had been dormant for too long. You stumble toward the end of the aisle, hand shaking as you steady yourself against the metal shelf.

“Y/N?”

The voice is low. Gentle. Broken.

You whirl around, heart lurching. Your eyes lock with his.

You know his face before your brain even catches up. Curly dark hair. Broad. Familiar in a way that claws at the inside of your ribs. His eyes go straight to your face, then flick down—and you see it. The moment he realizes. The moment his gaze drops to the curve of your stomach and his pupils��blow wide.

He kneels down without thinking, like something in him can’t stand seeing you from above. His hands twitch where they hover, unsure if he’s allowed to touch. “You’re really here,” he breathes.

Your throat closes. “How do you know my name?”

Chan smiles—soft, aching. “I heard your friend call your name at that music festival, remember? You bumped into me. Laughed, said “Sorry.” You smelled like fresh-cut grass and honeysuckle. We never forgot.”

You blink. Once. Twice. Your eyes sting.

“It was only for a second,” he adds. “But I felt it.”

You nod. You felt it too. That moment. That pull. You’d dismissed it as wishful thinking, a fluke. The bond hadn’t clicked, not fully. You hadn’t even been in pre-heat. But something inside you had lingered on his smile for months after.

“We’ve looked for you for so long,” he says, voice thick. “Let us help you.”

“Us?”

You glance up—and there they are.

Hyunjin, Han, Seungmin.

Three more faces. Three more pieces of a bond you didn’t know you’d been born waiting for.

And they all look at you like the moon just fell into their arms. Han had tears in his eyes.

You take a step back, fear prickling through you. “Please don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t pity me.”

“Pity?” Hyunjin breathes. “ Angel, we’re in awe.”

Seungmin gently pushes a shopping cart forward, clearing space between you and the onlookers. Han quietly replaces the box of oatmeal in your hand with a better one.

“No one’s here to take anything from you,” Chan says. “We’re just here… to bring you home.”

 Your voice is hoarse when you speak. “Okay.”

But even as the word leaves your lips, panic coils in your gut.

What are you doing? You don’t know them. You don’t know if the bond is real or just desperation painting strangers in gold. What if this is another trick? Another lie wrapped in a warm voice and kind eyes? You’ve been tricked before. You know what happens when you get comfortable. When you let someone else carry the weight.

They drop it. Or worse— they use it against you.

Your hand tightens protectively over your belly. You haven’t made it this far just to fall for a kind tone and a pretty face. You can’t afford to let your guard down. Not now. Not when your pup depends on you for everything.

Your heart is a drumbeat of alarm. Fight. Flee. Survive.

Chan sees it. The hesitation. The flicker of retreat. Your eyes, darting like a cornered animal.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t push. His voice stays low, steady. “You don’t have to decide now,” he murmurs. “We can give you space. Time. If you need to walk away, we’ll let you. No one here wants to trap you.”

You search his face, looking for the catch. The hidden agenda. But all you find is truth—and fear. He’s scared too. Scared you’ll disappear again.

Your chest heaves. Your pup shifts inside you like they can feel the storm brewing in your blood. You’ve been alone for so long, it feels like safety is a trick of the light. But something in your soul pulls toward them. Faint but real. Like a call you’ve ignored for far too long.

You don’t trust them. Not yet.

But you want to try.

And maybe that’s enough for now.

So you nod—tightly. One word, still raw. “Okay.” But inside, your walls are still up. Your fight is far from over. You’ll go. But you’re watching. Listening. Ready to run if you have to. Because no one hurts you again.  Not without a fight. Not while your pup is still inside you.

🐺🩵🍼🐺🩵🍼🐺🩵🍼🐺🩵🍼

Thank you for reading🩵

[queenofhalloween94]

Lil dudes and dudettes that keep me company while writing 🖤❤️🥰

[queenofhalloween94]

Master List: CTB Ch List

Ch 6 Summary: Chan calls Binnie and Han home, another pack member reacts to Binnie having

Y/n's scent on him....

Warnings:🔞 read at your own risk, smutty things happen eventually, tons of angst, shifters shifting forms

Time to Head Home

You rummage through your closet while chaos continues to unfold in the kitchen.

Clanking noises. A thump. A sharp “Han, get out of the cereal box! ” from Changbin.

Followed by, “But the bag was open!” from a disgruntled Han.

You roll your eyes, grabbing the softest pair of joggers you own—stretchy waistband, gray, slightly oversized—and one of your black oversized t-shirts. It smells like your laundry detergent, lavender and something comforting.

You hesitate for a second. Then pull out another shirt—smaller, older. An old tank top you sometimes sleep in and another pair of joggers. Probably big on a squirrel, but Han would figure it out.

You walk back out into the living room just as Luna makes a daring escape under the couch with her tail flicking, Han hot on her trail in squirrel form.

“SHE HAS A SECRET TUNNEL?! ” he cries, outraged. “WHERE DOES IT GO?!”

“She’s hiding from you,” you say dryly. “Like all living things with self-preservation.” You hum the secret tunnel song from Avatar The Last Air Bender as you go into the living room. You toss the tank top near the coffee table. “Han. Clothes. Now. You can’t stay a squirrel forever.”

He skids to a stop near the shirt and pants, sniffing them dramatically. “You bring me offerings?”

“It’s that or I find a shoebox.”

“Accepted!” he says, and in a poof of sparks and fur, he shifts back—sitting cross-legged on your carpet in nothing but a wicked grin.

“Clothes, Han.” You tell him while semi shielding your eyes.

“Right, right.” He yanks on the tank top and the joggers—it fits like a loose tunic—and gives it an experimental sniff. “Smells like her. Lavender. Tragic past. Snacks. I approve.”

You turn toward Changbin, holding the other set of joggers and t-shirt out. “For you. If you want.”

He blinks, caught off-guard. “You didn’t have to—”

“Would rather not have you walking around in just a borrowed hoodie and thighs. Makes it hard to concentrate, ya know.”

His ears go pink. He takes the clothes gently, his fingers brushing yours. “Thank you.”

You nod.

He changes behind your bathroom door for privacy. Han immediately flops onto your couch, sighing like he owns the place.

“I like her, Binnie,” he calls. “She’s got good snacks and better vibes. Can we keep her?”

Your voice is flat. “I’m not a pet, Han.”

He winks. “No, you’re a mate. Which is basically, like, the Alpha Wife.”

You laugh despite yourself. Changbin emerges a moment later, fully clothed now—shirt clinging to him in all the wrong-right ways, joggers low on his hips. He looks less wild, more human. But still very much him.

Your eyes linger a beat too long. “You really don’t have to stay,” you say, softer now. “I’m sure your pack wants you back.”

“I’ll stay as long as you want me here.” He says simply.

That makes your chest twist unexpectedly. “Just a little while then,” you say softly.

“Then we'll stay.” He moves to sit on the floor beside the couch, like he doesn’t want to take up too much space, and leans back against the side. His arm rests lightly near your leg but doesn’t touch.

Han is already curled up beside a pillow, yawning. “If you had a guest blanket, that’d be great. But I will also accept an old hoodie or the laundry pile.”

“I’ll get you one,” you say, already walking down the hall.

Something about this—about them in your home—should feel invasive. But it doesn’t.

It feels like the kind of strange that wants to stay. The kind that slowly rearranges your quiet life into something bigger, louder, and maybe—just maybe—better.

🐻🐺🐻🐺🐻🐺🐻🐺

Changbin’s POV

The mind link brushed against the edge of his awareness—soft at first, then stronger, commanding. "Bin. Bring Han. Time to come home." Chan’s voice was steady, but it left no room for argument.

Changbin glanced at the couch, where you were tucked beneath a blanket, curled on your side, deep in sleep. Han was sprawled beside you on the floor, tangled in the edge of the throw, one arm thrown dramatically across his chest like he’d been felled in battle.

“Han,” Changbin said, low and firm. “Wake up. We’ve gotta go.”

Han groaned and rolled over. “Nooooo. I live here now. Luna accepts me. The blanket smells like cookies and healing. Let me rot.”

“You can’t rot on her floor. Chan’s calling us back.”

Han sat up, groggy, hair a mess, your borrowed tank top riding up his ribs. “Ugh. Alpha timing is the worst.”

“You’re still in her shirt.”

“And?”

Changbin sighed, grabbed the hoodie you’d folded for him, and helped Han to his feet. He left a note with his number in your hand. You didn’t stir when they slipped out. But just before closing the door, Changbin looked back one more time. You were still sleeping peacefully. Trusting. Safe. His heart ached as he pulled the door shut behind them.

🐻🐺🐻🐺🐻🐺🐻🐺

The pack house buzzed with low energy when they returned—quiet voices from the kitchen, footsteps overhead. Chan wasn’t in sight, but Hyunjin and Jeongin were on the couch, watching some half-muted nature doc.

As soon as the door opened, the scent hit the room like a wave.

Lavender. City dust. Warmth. Comfort. Laughter. Tequila. Cat fur. And underneath it all—something unmistakably yours.

“Whoa,” Jeongin said, sitting up. “What the hell, you guys smell like you swam in her.”

Han kicked his shoes off and grinned. “Maybe we did. Emotionally.”

Changbin dropped his bag by the door and grunted. “We were in her apartment most of the day.”

Hyunjin had turned toward them too, expression unreadable. But Changbin caught it—the sudden, subtle stillness in his frame. The way his fingers tightened on the arm of the couch. The slight flare of his nostrils.

The scent was hitting him. Hard. Hyunjin blinked once, his body going strangely alert beneath the surface calm. His wolf stirred, pressing against his chest like something buried under ice, suddenly cracking free.

He could smell her all over them. Especially Han—who was wearing her shirt. His pulse jumped. Mine. He stiffened immediately. No. No no no. That’s not— He turned his face away, feigning boredom.

“You two didn’t do anything stupid, right?” he asked lightly. “Like, you didn’t get her pregnant or join a cult or steal her cat?”

“Nope,” Han chirped. “But Luna might be my new best friend.”

Hyunjin gave a sharp laugh, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Changbin noticed. Of course he did.

Hyunjin didn’t meet his gaze. Instead, he shoved off the couch. “You guys better shower. You both reek.” He walked out without waiting for a reply.

🐻🐺🐻🐺🐻🐺🐻🐺

Hyunjin’s POV

He shut his door behind him, heart still thudding against his ribs.

Her scent. Her scent was all over them.

He hadn’t even met her. Hadn’t touched her. And still his wolf had risen like it recognized her through scent alone. Not just familiarity— claiming . Like his instincts had already decided before his conscious mind could catch up.

Changbin had met her first. That was clear. His scent had mingled with hers—softened by the hours together, the closeness, the warmth.

Han’s was less bonded, more playful. But even that struck something sharp and strange.

And yet— his own wolf had reacted too. Something ancient. Something dangerous.

Something that whispered: She’s ours too.

“No,” he muttered aloud, yanking his shirt over his head and tossing it onto the floor. “Not possible. Not now.”

He couldn't take her from Bin.

Wouldn't.

But still—beneath the defiance, something in him ached.

And that was the problem.

He didn’t need to touch her to know she belonged to him too.

🐻🐺🐻🐺🐻🐺🐻🐺

A/n Incase you don't know the Secret Tunnel song

https://youtu.be/4-GiYP_4qc0?si=pnuvgjxAMLxLoU3e

**Thank you for reading!!**

[queenofhalloween94]

hiiii! I wanna let you know that I absolutely ADORED reading The Omega of the Pack! The ending made me cry a lil, and the whole story is sooo darling 🥹 I can’t wait to read part two 💜

also, is it okay with you if I reblogged the masterlist with a fanfic review? It’s okay if you don’t want me to!

Oh goodness! Thank you!! ☺️ oh yes please go ahead! That’s so kind of you! ❤️🖤

[queenofhalloween94]

I think the anon who requested the prompt with the pregnant omega may have stolen the idea from author softjeekies on here, their story is called Waiting After The Rain and it is the same exact plot almost word for word. I’ve seen it happen before and I just don’t want you to get any plagiarism allegations.

Oh goodness! Thank you for the heads up. I’ll reach out to the author.

[queenofhalloween94]

Master List

TAG LIST OPEN

Summary: An abandoned pregnant omega is cast out forced into homelessness, until your mates find you. Can Stray Kids pack accept their mate is pregnant with another alphas child? Will Y/n be able to trust another alpha let alone 8?

Warnings: mentioned heat abuse, homelessness, starving, mate bonds, ruts/heats, not medically accurate pregnancy, a/b/o dynamics

A/n: Thank you to the wonderful Softjeekies for letting me create my own spin on her plot! Here is a link to her master list for you all to check out her story!

Chapters

The Weight of Hunger and Fate

Quiet Shelter, Cautious Heart

Echos in the Dark

Tags: @sparky2020sworld @rougegenshin @sunfk88 @10mei1973li096 @silentreadersthings @httpsxnox @quokkahannie4 @glitterveins992 @snowy-violet @maddy24207 @chimmyn0chu @cait-with-luv @forgetfulsmols @pixie0627 @skzlover24 @sunfk88

[queenofhalloween94]

Master List: OofP Ch List

Summary: Y/n joins them for their Seoul concert, not as a fan but part of the pack.

Warnings: Fluffy fluff

Ch 21 Theirs

You thought the leak would destroy everything. But you were wrong. 

Instead, it cracked something open. Chan paced the kitchen like he was ready to burn down the entire entertainment industry.

“We can’t hide you forever,” he muttered. “Not like this.”

You reached for his hand. “Then let’s stop hiding.”

Minho’s eyes lifted. “You mean—”

You nodded. “Let them see what love looks like.”

Management panicked at first. Until the boys — Chan in particular — laid it out:

You were fully registered as their omega.

You had a valid, approved pack bond.

You weren’t a scandal. You were a story.

So the press statement was revised. No PR stunt. No rumors. Just: Our bond is real. She’s ours. We’re hers.

They posted a photo. All nine of you, mid-laugh, tangled in a sunlit nest. Felix had flour on his cheek. Luna was curled in your lap. You were glowing.

The caption was one word: family.

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

The Fans

The reaction was instant.

We knew it.

They look so happy.

Protect their omega at all costs.

Omg the cat too??

Fanart exploded. Luna and Minho’s cats in a shared nest. One drawing of you asleep in their arms with eight scent trails curled around you like ribbons.

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

You didn’t sleep. Neither did they. The concert was tomorrow — their biggest in Seoul. A full stadium. Live-streamed globally.

You would be there. In the wings. Marked. Not hidden. They agreed to one big concert in Seoul before taking a month off to enjoy their bond fully.

Felix curled up in your lap and whispered, “You’re not scared, right?”

You kissed his temple. “Not even a little.”

Hyunjin rolled over from where he was tangled in your thighs. “She’s our brave soulmate.”

“Don’t let Chan hear that,” Han muttered. “He’ll cry again.”

“He’s already crying,” Jeongin pointed out.

“I’m not,” Chan lied wetly from the other room.

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

The lights were blinding. The noise—thunderous. A sea of cheering fans screamed their love into the night, shaking the stadium with raw devotion. And just behind the heavy curtain separating backstage from the world, eight alphas surrounded you like a living shield, like a storm of heartbeats and warmth.

Hands brushed over your arms, your cheeks, your hair. Familiar lips pressed soft kisses to your shoulders, your knuckles, your temple — grounding you.

“You’re our strength,” Seungmin whispered as he took your hand in his.

“You’re our home,” Changbin said, his voice steady but his eyes glassy, sincere.

“You’re everything,” Chan murmured, lips brushing against the place where your pulse beat strongest — the side of your neck that marked you as theirs.

Their scents swirled around you like armor, calming your racing heart. You were surrounded by everything safe, everything real. They didn’t have to say it — you already knew — but hearing it before this moment meant everything.

Because this was the final set.

You stood at the edge of the curtain, the roar of the fans flooding your ears, the thrum of the bass pulsing through the floor under your shoes. Staff buzzed around, security kept a wide berth, and no one looked at you like you didn’t belong anymore. You weren’t a secret. You weren’t a whisper in the shadows.

You were the center of their world.

The final beat dropped. The crowd rose to a fever pitch.

And then—It ended.

Final song. Final beat. Final roar. The crowd went wild, not knowing what was coming.

Chan turned first, but not to the audience.

To you.

One by one, the others followed — drenched in sweat, glowing with adrenaline, faces flushed and grins wide. They didn’t turn to bow, they turned to you. Every single one of them.

And instead of freezing or hiding behind the equipment like you might’ve once done, you took a deep breath… and stepped forward.

Chan reached out and took your hand. His grip was warm, grounding.

Minho appeared next to you, smirking, and tugged you gently into the center of the stage.

Then they closed in. Felix to your left, Hyunjin to your right. Han spinning with energy. Jeongin grinning like a kid at a festival. Changbin and Seungmin flanking the rear. Eight alphas, shoulders brushing, arms touching, circling around you like the precious thing you were.

And as “Haven” began to play — the soft notes rising through the stadium like a heartbeat — you all stepped forward. Together.

Confetti burst into the air like fireworks as you danced in the center, laughing as Han and Felix each grabbed your hands in turn, twirling you beneath showers of silver and gold paper rain. The screams of Stay became waves of joy and disbelief.

This was their official introduction. Their acknowledgment. Their way of showing you to the world.

This was them saying: she belongs with us.

Hyunjin pulled you toward the fog blasters lined at the side of the stage. “Watch this!” he beamed, handing you the lever. You pressed it — and thick clouds of white fog exploded in a burst across the front row. The fans screamed in delight. Hyunjin whooped and shot another burst toward Han, who retaliated instantly, yelling as he spun in a circle and blasted fog straight back at him.

Not to be outdone, Minho pulled a sleek water gun from behind a speaker. “You’ve had your fun,” he said calmly… and then launched a water stream straight at Jeongin, hitting him square in the back.

That was the start of it.

Jeongin turned, betrayed. “You little—” But before he could finish, he grabbed a bottle of water and emptied it over Minho’s head.

Chaos erupted.

A chorus of “Shibal!” rang out as Han tripped over a stage light trying to escape Minho’s wrath. Fans screamed with laughter from behind the barricade as a full-blown water war broke out in the middle of a concert stage.

Changbin, bless him, ran to you like a knight on a mission. “Come on!” he said, grinning ear to ear. He tried to lift you off the ground bridal-style to whisk you to the other side of the stage—presumably to protect you from Minho’s vengeance—but the moment he did, Seungmin ambushed from the side with a full water bottle and got you both drenched.

“What the hell!” Changbin gasped, laughing and setting you down.

But it was too late.

Because sweet little Innie, the youngest and the fastest, came sprinting from the wings with a bucket of water balloons. No one knew where he got them. No one questioned it. He just let out an unholy yell and started launching them rapid-fire.

The first hit Han. The second hit Felix. And then Chan.

You were laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe.

Chan stood near the center of the stage, soaked head to toe, hair plastered to his forehead, fog drifting through the lights like smoke. He didn't run. He didn’t fight back. He just watched.

Watched his pack lose their minds. Watched his brothers laughing and screaming and throwing water at each other like kids at summer camp. Watched you, soaking wet and smiling with stars in your eyes, spinning with Felix, squealing when Hyunjin splashed your back.

He stood there, taking it all in, as the final chorus of “Haven” played around him. Fans called his name. They cheered for all of you.

And he laughed. Not his polite laugh. Not the camera-ready one. But the kind that came from deep inside — raw, joyful, amazed.

Because this— You—

You were the heart of it now. Not just their omega. Not just someone they loved in secret.

You were theirs. And the world finally knew it.

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Later that night, you lay curled in the middle of them. No rut. No heat. No press. No hiding.

Just arms. Hands. Scent. Soft kisses placed over your mating mark, one by one. And when you looked up into Chan’s tired, happy face, you whispered, “This was always meant to be.”

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Thank you for reading!

A/n: I have loved writing this story. It started out as something indulgent to get me out of my post concert funk. I hope you’ve enjoyed Part One. I hope to bring Part Two in the fall. I plan on having our MC do all the touristy things with the guys. MC to branch out into something her own. A past social media account may come back to cause chaos. Stay Tuned my loves! Thank you so much for reading, leaving kudos, and such kind and funny comments. ❤️🖤xx **BIG HUG**

[queenofhalloween94]

Master List: OotP Ch List

Summary: Soft fluffy moment after the ruts have died down.

Warnings: none just fluff

Ch 20 Home, Together

You woke up in layers. Warmth pressed behind your back — Chan.

A hand over your hip — Minho.

Soft fingers laced in yours — Felix.

Your whole body ached in the gentlest way. Sore, stretched, and entirely full. You’d lost track of how many times you’d been knotted, held, praised, and filled over the last several days. But you hadn’t lost track of this feeling. Home.

“You can’t make every pillow part of the nest,” Seungmin groaned as Jeongin hauled a new, oversized bolster into the pile.

“Watch me,” Jeongin said, determined.

Hyunjin was draped dramatically across the couch with Luna curled on his chest. “Let him nest, Seungmin. It’s how he processes emotions.”

“You say that like you’re not clinging to a weighted blanket like a sea otter,” Han muttered.

Minho grabbed Han and wrapped him in a blanket burrito, he immediately melted.

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

“You sure you want to go out?” Chan asked, his fingers brushing against your wrist in a tender, grounding touch. His thumb moved in gentle circles over your skin, the unspoken concern in his eyes louder than his words. “We can order in. Anything you want.”

You smiled up at him, warmth blooming in your chest at how protective he always was, even over something so simple. “I want to do something with all of you. Something normal. Something... us.”

Chan hesitated for a beat, then nodded, the corners of his lips curving into that soft, reassuring smile you’d come to love. “Alright. Let’s make it a mission then.”

That’s how it started.

Half an hour later, everyone was bundled up—hoodies, oversized coats, sunglasses, and ball caps in place. The jackets were all scent-matched to your home, a trick Minho suggested to help calm their instincts while out in public. The van ride was loud and chaotic, with Felix trying to sync Bluetooth to the stereo while Han passed out chewing gum like it was a life-saving necessity.

You sat squeezed between Hyunjin and Jeongin in the middle row, your knees touching and laughter spilling out of you before you even made it to the parking lot. The energy was giddy and strange and healing all at once.

The local home goods store didn’t know what hit it. The automatic doors slid open with a hiss, and it was as if someone had fired a starter pistol.

Felix darted off like a man on a mission and returned in under five minutes with three ridiculously fluffy comforters stacked in his arms, barely peeking over the top. “They were on sale,” he said breathlessly, eyes gleaming with excitement. “Feel this one, it’s like hugging a cloud.”

Chan headed straight for the storage aisle, methodically selecting baskets and bins to help organize the growing pile of shared belongings.

Changbin found a shelf of cozy scented plug-ins and tested every single one until he found one that reminded him of vanilla cake—then insisted it smelled like “safe hugs.”

Jeongin, meanwhile, had disappeared into a different aisle. He reemerged cradling a stack of throw pillows in every color imaginable—pastels, primary, even one shaped like a slice of avocado. “I couldn’t decide,” he said defensively, shrugging as if that explained everything. “So I didn’t.”

Han got sidetracked by an aisle full of fake flowers and small succulents. He poked at them with a serious expression, turning to Minho to declare, “I think we should make a floral centerpiece for the table.” When Minho didn’t respond right away, Han added, “With vibes.”

Minho, who had wandered off in the other direction, was already halfway through a random snack display. You watched him toss five bags of honey butter chips into the cart with zero hesitation.

“Essential supplies,” he said plainly when he caught your eye, as if defending a tactical decision. You just gave him a thumbs-up.

Meanwhile, you and Hyunjin had meandered toward the art supplies, drawn in by soft colors and aesthetic packaging. You both ended up in front of a rack of wall decals — crescent moons, pale stars, watercolor clouds, glowing constellations.

“These would look pretty above the couch,” you said, plucking a sheet of soft pastel stars. “It could make the place feel… cozier.”

Hyunjin nodded, selecting a set of floating lanterns. “This one reminds me of the city festival back home. We should get both.”

You added a few mood candles to the cart—lavender and vanilla, the kind that would calm overstimulated senses on harder days. Hyunjin sniffed each one with exaggerated care, then nearly gagged at the gardenia. “No offense, but this smells like heartbreak and dental floss,” he declared, dropping it back on the shelf like it personally offended him.

You snorted, trying not to laugh too loud. “What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know, but I stand by it.”

As you moved through the store together—bickering, laughing, filling the cart with impulsive purchases and oddly specific necessities—you felt it settle deep in your chest.

This was what normal looked like for you.

Not quiet. Not perfect. But warm, and alive. Yours.

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

You ended the night with takeout spread across the living room floor — tteokbokki, fried dumplings, and more kimchi pancakes than you could count.

Jeongin dozed against your thigh. Changbin fed you a bite of fish cake. Minho massaged your ankle like it was second nature.

After everyone else drifted off — or at least into a soft haze of food and blankets — Chan pulled you aside to the balcony.

You stood in the chilled fall night together, steam from your mugs curling upward.

“I need to ask,” he said. “How are you really?”

You looked at him — the man who had taken you, claimed you, protected you, loved you in ways no one ever had — and smiled.

“I’m better than I’ve ever been.”

His throat bobbed. “I was scared I’d hurt you.”

“You didn’t,” you said softly. “You healed me.”

He let out a breath, voice breaking. “I love you.”

You stepped into his arms, whispering it back "Love you too, Chan."

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Once dinner had been demolished and cleared away you all had laid around the nest.

It started with Han, as most chaotic things in your life now did.

One minute, everyone was content—curled up in the freshly built nest of comforters and pillows, the lights dimmed low, a soothing playlist humming in the background. The scent in the air was warm and safe, a blend of your pack’s signature notes—cedarwood, amber, honey, and the soft lavender that always lingered around you. Everything was peaceful.

And then Han, with the kind of mischievous glint in his eye that always preceded disaster, launched a pillow straight at Felix’s head.

Felix yelped, dramatically clutching his face. “I’ve been betrayed!” he shouted, even as he snatched up a cushion and retaliated, smacking Han right in the gut with a satisfying thud.

You should’ve known it wouldn’t end there.

Jeongin, never one to miss an opportunity for mayhem, quickly joined the fray, giggling like a gremlin as he lobbed a fluffy pink pillow across the room and accidentally hit Minho, who had up until then been peacefully sipping tea.

The moment Minho’s head snapped around, deadly calm, everyone froze.

“Jeongin,” he said slowly, carefully placing his mug on the table. “Did you just hit me?”

“Nope,” Jeongin squeaked, clearly lying, and tried to flee—but Minho was already on the move, a pillow in each hand like dual-wielded weapons.

Screams erupted. Pillows flew. You tried to stay out of it at first. You really did. But when Han—of course it was Han—whipped a small, traitorously dense cushion straight into your lap and cackled, there was no going back. You armed yourself, grabbed the nearest pillow, and hurled it with expert aim.

Chan laughed as he ducked just in time, only to take one to the side of the head from Hyunjin, who had made the rookie mistake of standing up on the couch for the high ground.

The couch betrayed him. With a dramatic yelp, Hyunjin flailed and toppled backwards off the edge, limbs everywhere as he crashed into the pile of comforters below. “I’ve fallen,” he groaned, “and I demand justice.”

Before you could check on him, Luna, being the dramatic queen of the pack she is, leapt across the nest with a loud mrrowl, clearly displeased by the sudden destruction of her chosen sleeping spot. She smacked Han with her tail as she skidded across the pile, claws gripping into one of the pillows like she, too, was choosing sides.

Changbin, meanwhile, had gone full gladiator mode—headband on, shirt slightly askew, dual-wielding two massive cushions as he roared and charged into the fray like a one-man army. “FOR THE PACK!” he shouted dramatically, tackling Jeongin into a sea of throw blankets and refusing to let go of his self-declared ‘pillow nun chucks.’

Minho, somehow in possession of your favorite throw pillow now, plopped down in the middle of the mess and held it to his chest. “I declare a scent truce,” he announced, looking both regal and mildly traumatized. “No more violence. The nest is sacred. Luna has spoken.”

It took a few moments, but eventually, the laughter began to die down. Panting and tangled together in a sea of softness, you all surrendered.

You laughed until your stomach ached, tears prickling your eyes not from pain but pure joy. Every breath was filled with the warmth of shared scent, of bond and safety and love.

And when the lights finally dimmed, and the apartment quieted once more, you lay nestled between limbs and heartbeats, surrounded by the people who loved you.

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Thank you for reading!

[queenofhalloween94]

Heyyyy author I would love to see you do a fic about an abandoned pregnant omega who ends up having skz pack save her and becoming her mates maybe having them protect against her family who abandoned her because the family treated her horribly I think this would be such a good fic if you are not comfortable with that kinda stuff that is totally okay I just think it would be cute to see skz become dads and step up even if it isn’t their pup as well as teach the omega about trusting alphas and to get out of a toxic mindset

I LOVE this idea! 🥰 I’ll start working on this, thank you for the request!! 🖤❤️

[queenofhalloween94]

Finally getting to start The Nice Guy 🥰😍

[queenofhalloween94]

Master List: OotP Ch List

Summary: Chan finally comes to Y/n, almost feral with need. **smut smut smut**

Warnings: 🔞eventual smut, slow burn, p in v sex, heats/ruts, mating bites, possessive tendencies, read at your own risk ⚠️

Ch 19 Chan

You felt him before you saw him. The air changed. Thicker. Heavier.

Your skin prickled, your body already responding before he even crossed the threshold. And then there he was — standing in the doorway, shoulders tense, eyes rimmed in red.

“Close the door,” he rasped.

You did.

Chan didn’t speak again. He crossed the room with slow, predatory steps, every muscle tight with restraint. His scent hit you like wildfire — smoke, bergamot, and alpha musk soaked in sweat and need.

He paused in front of you, chest heaving.

“I can’t be gentle,” he said, voice rough. “Not this time.”

“You don’t have to be.”

His jaw flexed. “I need to take.”

You stepped closer, heart pounding. “Then take me.”

That was all it took. His mouth crashed into yours, hands gripping your hips, dragging you back to the bed like you were already his prize. Your clothes were torn — not removed — and his, barely stripped before he shoved you down into the nest, climbing over you with a growl.

“I’ve waited too long,” he groaned, rut finally taking control. “They’ve all had you. I’ve starved for you.”

You spread your legs, welcoming him in. “Then eat.”

He buried his face between your thighs like a man dying of thirst, tongue relentless, lips bruising. You came twice before he even moved to take you.

When he slid in, it was one hard, perfect thrust.

You moaned. He didn’t stop. Over and over, he drove into you like he was marking territory — grunting, groaning, murmuring low commands in Korean you barely understood.

“너는 내 거야. 오직 내 거야 .” (You’re mine. Only mine.)

His knot hit on the third round — thick, swollen, locking you into him so deep you sobbed. He bit you then — not your neck. Not where the others had marked.

But everywhere else. Your shoulder. Your hip. Your inner thigh.

When he finally sank his teeth over your pulse point, he growled against your skin, “No one touches this again. Not even me.”

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

After you were shaking, so was he. His rut came in waves — he held you through each one, whispering promises and apologies all at once. Somewhere between the fourth knot and the fifth, you finally looked up and touched his jaw.

“I wanted this,” you whispered.

His eyes went glassy. “You grounded me,” he said. “I was gone, and you brought me back.”

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

The Pack. Outside, they waited. No one said a word — not even Minho — as Chan’s scent blanketed the space.

It wasn’t rage.

It wasn’t panic.

It was peace.

Felix smiled into Jeongin’s shoulder. “He finally let himself fall.”

And from where she sat curled in Hyunjin’s lap, Luna blinked once and meowed — as if to say, it’s about damn time.

💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Thank you for reading!