Chapter Text
Hoseok had gone through four foster packs in the past twenty-two months, and, with two months before he would be sent away for good, he was being given to a fifth. Two years to be fixed, to be tamed, to go from a feral wolf to a demure, civilized omega. And if that didn’t happen, the omega center would be given another resident.
No one really knew much about omega centers, other than that they weren’t places anyone wanted to be sent to. They weren’t places anyone wanted to visit, either—not that anyone wanted to visit the omegas there. No one even really wanted to see them. The centers were always in isolated areas with layers of electric fences running around the perimeter, guards at every turn, and thick collars heavy on the necks of omegas who would never find belonging outside those walls.
No one wanted to associate darling little omegas with the cold stone buildings, or with the sharp teeth that center omegas bared when threatened, so it was best to just keep them from the public eye. Out of sight, out of mind.
Feral omegas didn’t last long in the centers, Hoseok had heard. There weren’t many statistics published and there were even less than an omega could access, but he’d heard quiet whispers about omegas who disobeyed too much, omegas who were forced outside in the winter, already-feral omegas who were driven even more mad by the lack of touch—they were nothing but husks at the end.
Hoseok didn’t want to be one of those omegas. But he would be. He knew it.
He’d been feral for years now. He supposed it had always been a matter of time. His familial pack hadn’t cared for him, his parents and siblings and packmates all scorning him for—well. He didn’t know what for. He couldn’t figure it out when he was a newly-presented pup crying in his pitiful nest and he couldn’t figure it out when he was in his twenties and crying in an even more pitiful nest in the home of a pack who truly didn’t want him. He wasn’t born lucky. He felt he wasn’t even lucky to have been born.
When he’d been given to his alpha, Hoseok had known it would not be a happy life. When his alpha sank his teeth into his neck, marking him as property, he remembered feeling nothing but fear and dread and sorrow. He wasn’t sure why he had felt sorrow, even now—he couldn’t mourn something that never was, and happiness had never been for him.
His alpha locked him away with nothing but housework, a few worn books, and new-and-old bruises for company, day after day after day, and apparently—it got to him. His alpha would fuck him often, but threw him aside as soon as his knot went down. Every month or so his alpha would remember that Hoseok should have been bred by then, but the beatings that came after would have made sure that wasn’t the case either way.
The only touch he had felt for years brought nothing but pain. He hadn’t been given kindness, or companionship, or belonging, or—anything. He was left with nothing that made him feel real.
He was docile until he wasn’t, a silent omega until he was a snarling one, and part of a pack until he was sent away from them in chains to keep him from running and a gag to keep him from biting. The chains around him now felt just as heavy as the first time, though the gag made his jaw hurt more. The adrenaline wasn’t there to carry him through the maddening ache, not the fifth time around.
He’d been better at his last home, but he hadn’t been good enough. They realized that he wasn’t worth it, like the foster pack before him had, and the two before that.
It was always the same. The pack would think they were doing some noble thing, taking in a feral omega that was sad and lonely and abused. They thought they’d be able to heal him. They’d be able to chase away his sad little past and silly little troubles with regular meals and forced scenting and whatever else their idyllic fantasies inspired. But the second they saw the crazed look in a feral omegas eyes, their humanity overtaken by the vicious animal that sank its teeth into their soul, they saw the real threat they posed to their packmates—especially when there were already omegas in the pack and those soft, sweet, innocent things were within Hoseok’s reach—and they realized it wasn’t worth it. He would be locked up, services would be called, and he would be sent away.
If Hoseok had gone feral just a few years prior, he would have been sent off to the center almost immediately. But new laws had been passed just in time to give him a chance. Six months became a year, one year became two. It didn’t seem to matter much, though; very few ferals were successfully rehabilitated. Hoseok was almost sure that the ones who were were actually just fantastical stories the omega services workers told them to keep them from going truly mad right there in the office.
Hoseok often thought it would have been better to just be carted off to the center right away, just so he didn’t have to go through the whole process of being forced into a space he didn’t belong, into some pack that would just reject him in the end. It would be better to step right into the horror that was his future rather than made to anticipate it for years. The nightmares about what awaited him made him wake up in an episode half the time.
But as it was, he had been given two years, and was down to two months until he would be locked away to starve for love and die alone as he was always meant to do.
The synthetically-neutral scent of the omega services workers was giving him a headache, especially because he could only breathe through his nose with the gag in. The rush of scenery out of the windows was giving him a headache, too, but closing his eyes only made it worse. At least the workers weren’t talking at him.
Neither of them had talked to him in a way that wasn’t all airy and condescending (“Aren’t you so excited to go to your new pack? Oh, I bet you are!”) but he had heard them say that his ‘new pack’ had two omegas, and that they’d taken in ferals before. When one asked if their omegas had been feral, the other had laughed and said “God, no, can you imagine?”
Hoseok stopped listening after that. Even the people who were supposed to help him knew it was a wasted effort. He stared out the window and ignored the way the gag made his jaw ache and the way the chains cut into his wrists and hoped that two months would pass between one breath and the next.
The pack alpha was already waiting outside when they pulled into the driveway. He was big, tall, and handsome, wearing thick glasses and a soft sweater. Hoseok could already tell that a savior complex would once again be his downfall.
“Welcome!” the alpha said, giving the workers quick bows and a bright smile. “Please, come in.”
Hoseok watched from the corner of his eye. No need to start out too badly; alphas didn’t like omegas who disrespected them with eye contact. He looked nice enough, but so did plenty of alphas. And betas, for that matter. Hoseok could never trust that nice would carry through.
“We can’t stay long, I’m afraid, Namjoon-ssi,” said one of the workers, bowing apologetically.
“Ah, I understand,” Namjoon smiled. “Thank you for bringing Hoseok-ssi to us.”
Hoseok-ssi, Hoseok thought, startled, almost sure he’d misheard the formality. But—
“Hoseok-ssi,” Namjoon said, turning his bright smile to him. Hoseok was shocked enough to briefly meet his eyes, but quickly looked away when he remembered what he must look like.
He hated thinking about it. His shadowed eyes all wide and surprised with his mouth hidden by the gag, his cheeks hollowed, his head shaved. His hands were tied behind his back, his ankles chained to keep him from running. He hardly looked human, he thought, much less like an omega. He wasn’t pretty and soft, he was skin and bones, constantly tense, teeth bared much, much too often.
“Let’s get you settled in. You must be tired from your journey.”
It was an hour-long car ride, Hoseok wanted to point out, even though the trip had made him weary down to his bones. He wouldn’t dare to correct an alpha like that, anyway, especially over something so trivial.
Namjoon didn’t ask where Hoseok’s things were, which was proof enough that he’d fostered feral omegas before. It was an odd thing to give Hoseok a twinge of hope that he quickly squashed down, but perhaps it would be a nice change—maybe he wouldn’t expect so much. Hoseok had been the first feral in three of his past homes. They’d all been so shocked when he arrived without nesting materials or stuffed animals or whatever else all omegas should have. Namjoon had glanced in the back seat of the car, saw nothing, and knew.
“Here are the keys, Namjoon-ssi,” a worker said, placing them in Namjoon’s hand. “We wish you success.”
And like that, Namjoon was waving them off as they drove away, leaving Hoseok with his very last chance.
-
Namjoon ushered him inside and Hoseok felt a pit in his stomach when Namjoon’s smile fell.
“Ah—” Namjoon said, crouching down.
Hoseok nearly stepped back at the sudden movement. Whatever he expected, it wasn’t for Namjoon to unlock the cuffs around his ankles, tossing the chain to the side.
“I’m sorry you’ve been kept like this, Hoseok-ssi. I’m sure it’s been uncomfortable.” He untied Hoseok’s bound arms as he stood, careful to not touch Hoseok’s irritated skin more than he had to. The gag was last, and he unbuckled it much more slowly, discarding it carelessly before cupping Hoseok’s face in his large hands, massaging his jaw gently. “Are you alright?”
Hoseok stared at him. He didn’t speak, or nod, or shake his head, no matter how utterly confused he was. He didn’t want to do anything that might upset Namjoon. It would be easier to get through these last few months as neutrally as possible, no matter how odd this new alpha seemed to be.
“Ah,” Namjoon said, sounding almost chastened. “Silly question, I suppose.”
Hoseok realized it was now, too. If he was alright, he certainly wouldn’t be a shadow in Namjoon’s hall.
“Let me show you to your room, Hoseok-ssi. I’m the only one home for the next few hours so you shouldn’t be bothered while you settle in.”
Hoseok followed him to a bedroom; it was nice and sunny with flowy curtains and a small futon bed on the floor. He found himself itching to roll in it, but he’d never dare. He itched more to build up walls around it with the sizable pile of blankets, sheets and pillows carefully stacked and folded at the foot of the bed, but he couldn’t bear the thought of building yet another nest that would inevitably be destroyed.
“There are some snacks in the drawer here,” Namjoon said, pulling it open. “A little bit of everything since we didn’t know what you prefer. Do you have any allergies that you know of, Hoseok-ssi? Nuts, dairy, starch—?”
Hoseok shook his head after a too-long moment. He knew his file, as bare as it was, said he had none.
Namjoon nodded, rubbing his palms on his hips. “Okay. I’ll leave you to settle in, unless you’d like me to stay?”
As careful as Hoseok was trying to be, he couldn’t help the quick shake of his head, the thought of an alpha staring at him for any longer than he had to a genuinely scary prospect.
“Then I’ll go,” he said easily. “I’m just a shout away—or a knock, or a wander. Find me if you need me, or if you’d like to. Please. The rest of the pack will be back in time for dinner. I’d like you to eat with us, at least at the start. You can leave after a few moments if you feel the need, but—prepare yourself for meeting them.”
Namjoon didn’t order him in a way that made Hoseok feel nauseous with the compulsion to obey, but it was an order. He nodded once to show he understood, clinging to that you can leave and hoping it would actually be truthful in a few hours’ time.
Namjoon gave him a soft smile. “I hope you like it here with us, Hoseok-ssi. I really do.”
Namjoon turned away and made to close the door, and the words slipped, quiet and unbidden, out of Hoseok’s mouth. “Thank you.”
Namjoon turned just enough to beam at him. “Of course, Hoseok-ssi. Welcome to our den.”
As soon as Namjoon closed the door behind him, Hoseok began to explore as quietly as he could. There was food in a drawer, just as Namjoon had said. Hoseok made sure to stash some around the room, hiding packets of dried fruit and chips around the room in case he was punished with withheld meals. The window opened outwards, he discovered—not enough to slip out but enough to let in fresh air and make the curtains flutter prettily. There were a few sets of clothes hanging neatly in the closets; soft matching sweatshirts and sweatpants, a pair of pajamas, a few t-shirts—even underwear, he was glad to see. That was not always a given. None of it was always a given.
He tried his best to avoid touching the stack of bedding, but his instincts clawed at him insistently until he gave in. He sniffed at them cautiously from a few feet away, and even then he caught the light scent of pack. They were all clean but not new; the pack scent had seeped into the fabric so strongly that it might as well have been woven that way.
It was—nice, Hoseok reluctantly admitted. They smelled nice. They smelled crisp and warm and homey without musk or spices that made his nose burn.
Wisteria, he realized.
His familial pack’s territory had wisteria that climbed up a fence, bright and purple and able to shield him from the world. Hoseok had hidden in it often, sometimes with a book he’d snuck away from his older siblings, sometimes with pretty daydreams, usually with fresh bruises, real and metaphorical.
It was a beautiful scent, comforting and familiar, and it made him feel sick.
His teeth felt on edge. He knew that feeling.
He quickly covered his nose until he could stick his face out of the window, breathing in deeply, trying to clear the wisteria from his system.
He wouldn’t have a fit. He wouldn’t. Not so early, not before even an hour had passed in his new cage. He couldn’t always stop it, but he had to. He wanted to get through these last few months without pain, without punishment. It took a few heart-thumping moments before he calmed down just enough for his tiny fangs to stop feeling each heartbeat. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing fresh air to keep it at bay.
Time passed oddly for him most of the time, either too slowly when he was locked in captivity or too quickly when he latched on to some hint of freedom. He wasn’t sure how long had passed when he heard voices downstairs, and the rabbit-jump of his heart started up all over again. It was less intense, this time, not strong enough to forebode an attack. He couldn’t make out the words, nor could he smell any new scents so far away. It was the rest of the pack, he knew, at least some of them.
Dread built steadily and heavily in Hoseok’s stomach. Meeting anyone was intimidating, meeting a pack was even more so—especially when he had just become their ward. Especially when he was a ward they didn’t yet know would be unwanted.
He swallowed thickly, pressing himself against the wall farthest from the door, straining to hear their voices to no avail. They were still too muffled even when he crept closer, even when he nearly pressed his ear to the door.
It was a relief, he thought, or it would be later on. If he couldn’t hear them now, they wouldn’t be able to hear it when he inevitably went feral, when breathing fresh air and losing time wouldn’t be enough. Maybe he wouldn’t be shoved into another home if they couldn’t hear the terrible ferocity in his growls or the destruction he tended to wreak on rooms. It was a nice room. He felt preemptively sorry for wrecking it.
He leapt back as soon as he heard a step on the stairs, scrambling to press himself against the furthest wall once more, tucking himself pitifully into the corner and staring warily at the door. He crouched down and made himself small, hoping to appease whoever was coming near.
He didn’t say anything at the quiet knock—it had been preceded by a moment of obvious shuffling so the noise was no surprise, even if it had made him jump. The door opened after another few moments of silence, just a crack.
“Hoseok-ssi? May I come in?” The light floral scent wafted into the room, and Hoseok couldn’t hold back the just-above-silent keen he let out. His cheek burned as an omega peeked into the room, offering an almost-shy smile. “Hello. I’m Seokjin. It’s nice to meet you.”
Hoseok stared at him before nodding once.
“You can call me hyung, if you’d like,” Seokjin said, offering a small bow as he stepped in. “I know we don’t know each other well yet, but you don’t have to be formal in your own home.”
Hoseok was silent, watching as Seokjin sat on the floor, cross-legged and nonthreatening, the door half-open behind him. An escape. Perhaps he wanted Hoseok to think it was an escape for him, but he was glad Seokjin had one instead. He didn’t feel an episode coming on, but the sight of a pretty omega with a beautiful scent could very well be enough to bring one on without much warning.
“I know this is scary,” Seokjin said, folding his hands in his lap. He looked so proper there, a perfect omega with perfect posture and a perfect face.
Everything Hoseok wasn’t.
“And I know you won’t believe me right away,” he continued, “but I want you to know that you’re safe here. We won’t harm you or threaten you or treat you as—as subhuman.”
As an omega, Hoseok heard.
“I promise you that. And we’ll work hard to fulfill that promise and to earn your belief. And trust, I hope.
Hoseok swallowed, listening for a moment to make sure Seokjin really was alone. An unsupervised omega around him—they were foolish, he supposed. Or they thought he was a fool.
“You’ve had ferals,” he said after a moment. His voice was hoarse and the words felt grainy in his mouth; he hadn’t spoken more than necessary in months.
“Yes,” Seokjin agreed easily. “Two.”
Hoseok stared.
“They’re not here,” he continued without prompting, like Hoseok had asked the question aloud. “They’ve gone to other packs. Not—not through an agency.”
How? Hoseok thought.
Seokjin answered. “They met packs we’re friends with and felt at home with them. The first was a few years back, the second just ten months ago. He chose the wall color in here, actually—” He smiled, nodding at the bright yellow wall. “If it’s not to your liking we can change it. It’s a nice color to wake up to, I think, especially on cloudy days.”
He clearly didn’t expect an answer, but Hoseok gave him one anyways. “Pretty.” He meant it, though he only really aimed to be agreeable.
“Yes,” Seokjin smiled brightly. “Hoseok-ssi—it’s nice to hear your voice.”
Hoseok furrowed his brows. He didn’t see a slight in his eyes, only kindness and honesty. Hoseok wasn’t naive enough to believe it.
“Jungkookie and I are glad to have another omega in the house.”
Hoseok bit his cheek. “Another.”
“Mm. Two alphas, two betas. And three omegas, now.”
“Three.”
Seokjin grinned. “It comes in handy. Our pack is wonderful—granted, I am biased—and ostensibly omegas are on equal footing, but—ah, do nothing but pout and everyone falls over themselves to do our bidding. It’s very fun. And I’m the eldest, our Jungkookie is the youngest—triple the advantage.”
Hoseok swallowed, furrowing his brow as he listened to the hall once more. “Dangerous.”
“Hm? You?”
Hoseok nodded.
“I know.”
Hoseok blinked in surprise, expecting the usual ‘Oh, dear, I’m sure you’re not, omegas are too soft to be dangerous.’
“You have reason to be, I think. Omegas—” Seokjin pursed his lips, glancing away as he chose his words. “We’re smart, you know? Clever. Our instincts are better than alphas, better than betas, sometimes, too. We’re survivors. If going feral was what it took for you to survive—there were reasons. And I wish there weren’t, of course, I wish that had never been the case, but—you’re here. You may be dangerous, but we’re not fragile. You may harm us. We know that. We hope—we hope we can help you not need that impulse. That’s all.”
“Why?” Hoseok asked, unable to hold back.
He shrugged. “Because we care. We don’t have a history with ferals, we don’t have some tragic backstory that makes us compassionate about feral omegas in particular—we just care. We want to do what we can to help.”
Hoseok could tell he was listening to the hall, too; he leaned back, closing the door nearly enough for it to catch before looking back to him.
“And we want to keep you out of the omega center.”
Hoseok blinked. The omega center was hardly ever referenced outright. Even omega services spoke about it in hushed tones, like it was something too horrible to speak.
“Yoongi, our other alpha—he worked at one once, and no one—no one deserves that.” Seokjin swallowed and took a shaky breath. It must be as terrible as Hoseok had heard. Maybe worse. “I read your file,” he said abruptly. “Only Namjoon and I did. I know—you’re close to it, I know your history, I know—I know you’re on your last chance. We will do everything we can to keep you safe, and I ask that you allow us the chance.”
Hoseok looked away.
Seokjin took a deep breath, pushing himself to his feet and determinedly lightening his voice. “Dinner should be ready by now, I think. Walk down with me?”
Hoseok obeyed. Omega or not, Seokjin clearly had some authority. He’d already tested his luck enough talking to him so brusquely.
Dread sat heavy in his stomach as they went down the stairs, Hoseok following a few steps behind. The voices of the pack grew louder the closer they got but they quieted as soon as Seokjin and Hoseok came into view.
“Hoseok-ssi,” Namjoon smiled, “good afternoon. I hope you’re settling in well.”
He couldn’t answer. He sat stiffly with Jin’s gentle guidance, placed, likely deliberately, between Jin and a spring-scented beta who gave him a crescent moon-eyed smile.
“I’m Jimin,” he offered, giving him a polite bow. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Hoseok couldn’t bring himself to answer once more, not even to nod. He stared at him for a moment before ducking his head, jaw tensing. He didn’t want to make the betas aggravated with him, either, certainly not for rudeness. He’d felt safe enough with Jin—at least emboldened enough—to ask improper questions, to look at him in an improper way, but that was solely because of his status. Even if he touted ‘equality’ in their pack, Hoseok knew better.
“I’m Jungkook,” an omega across the table said.
Hoseok glanced up; Jungkook was restless, squirming slightly, his eyes wide and eager as he took Hoseok in. Seokjin had said they were happy to have another omega in the den, and looking at Jungkook’s puplike excitement, Hoseok almost believed it.
“You’re really pretty,” Jungkook blurted, his cheeks pinkening. “And you smell really good—”
“Kook-ah,” an alpha chided—Yoongi, Hoseok figured. He was looking at Jungkook with overwhelming fondness, though, and Jungkook was clearly not terrified of the chastisement as Hoseok would have been.
Jungkook nodded once. They must have discussed—something before his arrival. Hoseok wasn’t sure what. “I’m—it’s nice to meet you, Hoseok-ssi. And I won’t—I promise I won’t jump on you.”
Hoseok furrowed his brows.
“Kook-ah,” Yoongi said again, the name almost a laugh. “He gets enthusiastic, Hoseok-ssi, that’s all. Our big puppy.”
Jungkook giggled, squirming again. “I’ll be good. I promised.”
“You’re always good,” Jimin said, wrinkling his nose and kicking at him lightly under the table. “Often in a very excitable way.”
“Taehyung,” the other beta interrupted, leaning forward to see him from Jimin’s other side. “I promise I won’t jump on you either.”
Yoongi snorted. “I’m Yoongi. We don’t expect you to remember our names right away so don’t worry about that,” he smiled kindly. “There’s quite a few of us and only one of you, so we have it a bit easier.”
Hoseok didn’t meet his eyes but nodded once, swallowing thickly. He jumped when food was spooned into his bowl, a heaping serving of rice followed by more meat than he’d been served in the past two years—they must be testing him, he thought. The packs before wanted to make sure he kept his lithe figure, giving him omega-typical half servings of everything, only scoffing if he dared ask for more. He tried to ignore the way his stomach growled; the last thing he’d eaten was the bland porridge omega services had given him that morning, only filling in theory.
Around him, the pack began to eat, chatting between bites and refilling each others’ cups and plates, seemingly regardless of subgender or age. Hoseok swallowed, watching it all through his lashes, unwilling to fully look up in case he caught someone’s eye. A nudge to his shoulder made him jump hard enough that he shook the table, but the pack continued on politely as if they hadn’t felt it.
“Do you not care for meat?” Jimin asked quietly, kindly. “I can fix something else if you’d like?”
Hoseok quickly shook his head, the thought of the beta going through any trouble for him almost nauseating.
“Would you take a few bites of rice at least?” he asked, still only loud enough for Hoseok to hear. “If your stomach can handle it.”
Hoseok waited for a tense moment, trying his best to sense deception. Finding none, he took a small, shaky bite, and was rewarded with Jimin’s bright smile and another nudge.
“Thank you,” Jimin said, going back to the conversation at large.
He nudged Hoseok every other minute, prompting him to take another bite until there was a sizable dent in his rice. He’d eaten all the bulgogi against his better judgment—if it was a test, he’d likely already failed. He might as well have a nice taste of false-freedom before any punishment was wrought.
Even as the food was depleted and dishes were cleared, there was no sign of punishment coming his way—Seokjin even asked if he’d had enough, if he’d like some more, if he’d like dessert. Hoseok hadn’t had anything sweet in months, when his last foster pack had kept him on his knees and fed him pieces of melon by hand until they realized he still wouldn’t submit. They’d spanked him after, for maintenance, they said, and locked him in his windowless little room when he still refused to go all doe-eyed and complacent.
Hoseok shook his head, of course; if the meal itself hadn’t been a test, there was no way the prospect of more was not. Even if the thought of a drop of honey was enough to make his too-full stomach want just one more bite.
He must have been much more obvious about it than he thought; that night, when he went to his room, there was a plate of tiny tea cakes waiting for him.
They aren’t homemade but they’re my favorites. Brush your teeth after~ Jinnie-hyung.
Hoseok shocked himself by not scarfing them down with frantic abandon; instead, he nibbled at once, savoring the taste as he looked out the window. He obeyed the note and brushed his teeth in the ensuite bathroom after, even chancing a quick shower since they’d left clean towels and new neutral-scented toiletries out.
He didn’t nest. He wouldn’t nest.
But he curled up on the futon with a blanket pulled snug over his shoulders and his face buried in a plush pillow and tried to fall asleep to the quiet sounds of life outside the door.