Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sun barely claws its way over the Seoul skyline, casting long shadows across the pavement as Jeon Jeongguk kills the engine. He sits for a moment in his modest car, staring at the looming architecture of the First Division Maximum Security Prison. At twenty-four, with a degree still crisp in its folder, this is the end of the theory and the beginning of the grit.

The air there is heavy with the scent of damp concrete, cold metal, and the distant chaos of the yard. It is a violent contrast to the sterile quiet of university libraries and the predictable hum of lecture halls he left behind only weeks ago.

Jeongguk reaches up, fingers steady as he adjusts the stiff collar of his brand-new uniform. His touch lingers on the Prison Officer epaulette pinned to his shoulder. It’s a small piece of fabric that carries a crushing weight: he is the first omega to ever hold this position. He’s spent a lifetime tuned to the frequency of people telling him he doesn't belong in law enforcement, that he is a natural target, a liability. He has spent just as long proving them wrong.

This post—won through a professor's recommendation and cemented by grueling physical and theoretical exams—is more than a job. It is a cage he’s ready to break open, a chance to prove his worth in a world built to keep him out.

The moment he crosses the threshold of the main gate, the air shifts. The sensation of being watched is no longer a metaphor; it is a physical weight against his skin. He traverses the wide, sterile corridors, the sharp click of his boots echoing against the concrete in the oppressive silence.

When he reaches the command center, a wall of stares greets him. A contingent of officers—mostly alphas and betas—wait in a loose semi-circle. Their expressions are a curated blend of raw curiosity and thinly veiled skepticism, eyes tracking the movement of the new omega in their midst.

At the center of the storm stands the Prison Commander. He is an alpha of middle age, possessing a posture that demands gravity and a gaze that feels like it’s peeling back layers. He extends a hand toward Jeongguk, and for a fleeting second, a cold shiver snakes down the omega’s spine.

“Officer Jeon. Welcome,” Commander Lee says. “It is a notable change to finally have an omega on the roster. I trust you are prepared for the particular demands of this facility.”

Jeongguk meets the man’s eyes, his grip firm as he takes the offered hand. He forces his pulse to steady, burying the slight tremor in his fingers beneath a mask of professional steel.

“Yes, Commander. I’m here to serve.”

The low hum of murmurs ripples through the room, a physical pressure that Jeongguk feels against the small of his back. He knows this weight; it is the price of entry. He’s prepared to carry the burden of their scrutiny for as long as it takes for his presence to become mundane rather than a novelty.

Then, the tension breaks.

A beta with hair the color of spun platinum and a disarming, lopsided grin detaches himself from the wall of skeptics. He radiates a warmth that feels entirely out of place in the cold steel of the command center.

"Officer Jeon, I’m officer Park Jimin. Good to have you," he says, his hand extended in a welcoming gesture. He leans in slightly, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial level. "Don't sweat those guys. Half of them haven't been within ten feet of an omega in years, and you're… well, you’re young and pretty. You’ll be the only thing they talk about for a few weeks, but I promise the dust settles."

Jeongguk forces a smile, the tightness in his chest loosening just a fraction at Jimin’s easy candor. The road ahead is steep with prejudice, but the fire in his gut hasn't flickered. He isn't just here to be competent; he’s here to be better than every alpha in the building.

As the briefing begins, Jeongguk’s gaze drifts, scanning the room. His eyes land on a corkboard pinned with the grim visages of high-risk inmates; hardened faces that seem to sneer at him from the grainy ink. A hollow cold settles in his stomach, a reminder of where he is.

He is intimidated, yes, but far from broken. He has a purpose, and he won’t let their doubt become his own.

Commander Lee tracks Jeongguk’s every movement, his hands is clasped behind his back in a rigid line. He notes the round, glass-like quality of the younger man’s eyes, the lingering trace of a deer caught in high beams. He knows this place; he knows that the inmates will smell that hesitation like blood in the water. 

“Officer Jeon, the first rule of survival here is knowing exactly who you’re watching,” Commander Lee declares. “The moment you project passivity is the moment they eat you alive. So do not let them grow bold. You are the authority here. Act like it.”

“Yes, sir,” Jeongguk answers.

“Officer Park will take you to the archives and brief you on your first rotation. He’s going to show you how things work around here. I hope you make yourself comfortable. If any problems or questions come up, I’m in this office from seven in the morning until five in the afternoon, at your disposal.”

”Thank you, sir.” 

Jimin offers a practiced bow and tilts his head, gesturing for Jeongguk to follow. They wind through the labyrinthine halls to an upstairs office; a claustrophobic space that feels more like a graveyard for paperwork than a command post. Dust motes dance in the dim light, settling over stacks of boxes that threaten to topple.

Jimin drops into a creaking chair, tossing his credentials onto a cluttered desk with a careless flick of his wrist. He reaches for a heavy file resting atop a cabinet, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Alright, rookie. Time for your introduction to the Welcome Committee,” he says, sliding his glasses down from his platinum hair to the bridge of his nose. Even amidst the grime of the archives, he’s strikingly handsome. “Tell me, is your memory any good?”

Jeongguk doesn't blink. “I can recite the names of every person I shared a lecture hall with for the last four years. Will that do?”

Jimin’s grin widens. “Perfect. You’ll need it. These guys aren't just criminals; they’re nightmares in human skin.”

“I’m not planning on taking it easy on them, Officer Park.” 

“Right. First up, we have Min Yoongi,” Jimin says, sliding the first file across the cluttered desk. “Beta. Organized crime, high-level faction leader. He’s a strategist; the silent type. If he’s too quiet, it’s because he’s already three moves ahead of you.”

Jeongguk takes the file, scanning the details. In the photo, Yoongi has faded mint hair and narrow eyes. To the untrained eye, he looks almost unassuming, nothing like the monster a maximum-security label would suggest. 

“Any questions?” Jimin asks.

“None, Officer Park. I’ll keep my distance.”

“Good. Moving on, we have Kim Namjoon. Alpha. Also organized crime, but despite the title, he’s cooperative, stays in line. He won’t give you any trouble, so don't waste your energy there. And then…” the beta pauses, pulling a heavier folder from the bottom of the pile. “We have Rozanov. Alpha. Large-scale Russian arms and drug trafficking. This one? This is the one you watch your back for.”

Jeongguk leans in, studying the photograph. The man is beautiful—pale skin, a halo of golden curls, and a face that screams danger despite its aesthetic perfection. “Does he even speak Korean? Why wasn’t he deported?”

Jimin lingers on the silence for a dramatic beat before answering.

“He speaks a dragged-out Korean, and he holds citizenship, which is why he’s rotting in this division. He’s got the silver tongue, he’s beautiful, and he’s lethal. Don't let the face fool you; hit him with the hard line from day one.”

Jeongguk nods. He burns the image of the golden-haired alpha into his memory.

Jimin’s fingers tap a nervous beat against a black folder—one visibly more worn, the edges frayed from frequent handling. He opens it with a measured slowness, revealing the photograph of a man whose eyes are so sharp they seem to slice right through the grain of the paper.

“And finally… Kim Taehyung. He’s the top of the food chain. The most dangerous alpha in the stacks and, professional bias aside, the hottest man to ever step in this hellhole.”

Jeongguk leans in, his breath hitching as he traces the sharp lines of Taehyung’s jaw and the predatory tilt of his head in the photo. An odd, unwelcome shiver races down his spine; Jimin isn't exaggerating. 

With ink-black hair, a hot physique, a throat mapped in tattoos, and a shadow of dark stubble, he is devastatingly beautiful. He is the most striking man Jeongguk has ever seen.

“Have you ever dated a younger guy?” the beta asks. Despite the absurdity of the timing, his face is a mask of dead-seriousness.

Jeongguk blinks, caught off guard. “No... I think everyone I’ve been with has been older. Why?”

“So you like older men?” Jimin presses, his eyes scanning Jeongguk’s face for any sign of hesitation.

“I suppose so.”

“Then take whatever personal distance you were planning to keep from Kim Taehyung and double it,” he warns, his voice dropping an octave. “He’s going to look like your exact type, but he’s more than a pretty face and a hot body, Jeon. He's a trap. He’s magnetic. He knows his power and he wields it like a weapon. Since you’re the first omega here, he’s going to try and get inside your head before you even unlock his cell. He’s going to give you trouble; endless trouble. So, a word of advice: don’t let him catch a single whiff of that sweet scent of yours. Or you’ll be fighting an uphill battle to keep your badge.”

Jeongguk swallows hard, the presence of that black folder feeling heavy in the cramped room.

“What’s his crime?”

“Fraud,” Jimin responds with a smirk, catching the confusion written all over Jeongguk’s face. “What? Thought the crime was too light?”

“I don’t know. The way you were talking, I figured it’d be murdering kids or something close to that, not fraud.”

“Well, let’s just say he is a con artist on a god-tier level,” Jimin says. “Fraud is such a clinical word for it. He bled billions out of the most powerful men in this country for years; presidents, magnates; socialites. If he weren't locked in here, he’d probably be a corpse.”

”Now that’s sound like a huge crime.”

“Plenty of people think he’s some kind of wronged vigilante, which explains why he has fans visiting every weekend with gifts and letters. I hope you don't become one of them. And don't go falling for him, Jeon. It’s far too easy.”

“I don’t fall for criminals, Officer,” Jeongguk replies, forcing a steeliness into his voice even as his heart hammers against his ribs. “I don’t care about looks, and I know my duty.”

“I hope so,” Jimin says, offering a small, tight smile as he stands. “Because it’s time to get to work. Yard time is coming up. I’ll back you up while we escort them out. It’s time you meet the criminals you’re babysitting.”

🌷

The concrete yard is biting and bitter, but the tension radiating from the inmates lined up in the shadows is enough to turn the air around Jeongguk suffocatingly hot.

Jimin walks ahead with the easy, dangerous grace of a man who knows every piece on this board. He’s owned this block for years; he knows exactly which buttons to press and which throats to watch.

Jeongguk follows in his wake, a wolf pup trying to mimic the stride of a beta. He keeps his spine agonizingly straight, his expression carved from stone, his uniform still crisp and devoid of a single wrinkle. He adjusts the brim of his blue cap, pulling it lower to shroud the nervous flicker in his eyes. He cannot afford to look passive. He cannot afford to look soft.

"Attention!" Jimin’s voice slices through the low hum of prisoner chatter like a serrated blade. "This is Officer Jeon Jeongguk. He’s taking command of Block C. From this second forward, his word is my word, and it’s the Commander’s word. Anyone who pushes him gets a week-long vacation in solitary. Am I making myself clear?"

The announcement is met with a tidal wave of low whistles and lewd murmurs that make Jeongguk’s blood boil. 

The inmates don't just look at him; they devour him. A lone omega in uniform, standing in the heart of this alpha-heavy nest, is a sight they never expected to see. To them, he isn't an authority. He’s a prize.

Rozanov breaks the formation with a deliberate arrogance, his arms a tapestry of ink and scar tissue that disappears beneath the collar of his prison greys. 

He ignores the regulatory line, looming into Jeongguk’s personal space until the air between them vanishes. His scent is an aggressive alpha pheromone that makes the small hairs on the back of Jeongguk’s neck stand on end.

“An omega...” Rozanov inhales sharply. A jagged smirk pulls at his pale features; he is even more devastatingly handsome in person. “Did the Commander finally decide to give us a gift? He’s far too soft to be playing dress-up in that police uniform. I bet he smells like a flower once we peel he out of those clothes."

A chorus of whistles and dark laughter ripples through the yard, the inmates emboldened by the Russian’s defiance.

Jeongguk feels the intimidation, but he doesn't flinch. Instead, he tightens his grip on his belt and locks his gaze onto Rozanov’s, refusing to yield a single inch of ground.

“I suppose the floor of a solitary cell is even softer, isn’t it, Inmate 081?” Jeon’s voice rings out, cold and clear enough to cut through the mockery. “Take one more step, and I’ll personally guarantee you’re eating hospital rations for the next three months. Get behind the fucking line. Now.”

The laughter dies instantly. The shift in the yard is palpable as eyes widen and spines straighten in surprise.

Beside him, Jimin hides a smirk with a flicker of pride dancing in his eyes. The rookie might be an omega, but he has teeth, and he clearly isn't afraid to use them. 

"Back off, Rozanov. You're already treading water in here; don't make it a drowning," Kim Namjoon interjects. He adjusts his glasses—held together by a makeshift fix—with a steady hand. He turns his gaze toward Jeongguk, offering an almost imperceptible nod. "Let the man do his job. Stop acting like a fucking animal."

The tension in Rozanov’s shoulders snaps. He mutters a dirty curse under his breath, but he retreats, slinking back into the formation like a beaten hound. He knows as well as anyone that crossing Namjoon is a death sentence in this block.

“Any of you got another little joke to make?” Jeongguk asks, tipping his cap back and glaring at every single prisoner, but the silence is so heavy he could almost hear the crickets in the garden outside. “That’s what I thought.”

Amidst the fading echoes of the chaos, a heavy presence anchors Jeon’s attention as Jimin explains something he barely listens, dragging it toward the very end of the line.

There he is. Kim Taehyung.

He is really, really hot. His hair is much longer than in the photo, styled in an undercut that makes him look even more like a criminal, while his tattoos almost seem to dance across his copper skin. Jeongguk thinks to himself that if a deity were to take physical form, he would probably look exactly like that man.

Taehyung doesn't whistle or join the chorus of crude jokes. He remains leaning against the grime-streaked grey wall, arms folded over a prisoner’s uniform that seems strained against the broad frame of his shoulders and a flat face. 

He offers no obvious reaction. There is no flash of hatred, no overt flicker of lust; only a silent, absolute scrutiny. His dark eyes track the contours of Jeongguk’s soft face like a scanner, finally locking onto his round, rounded gaze.

The eye contact is so sudden and so deep that the ambient noise of the yard simply bleeds away into a vacuum. Jeongguk has no idea what Jimin is still saying or explaining. Just as he has no idea that there are other inmates trying to catch his eye. He can only look into those foxy gaze that dissect him without mercy, piece by piece.

“Right, Officer Jeon?” Jimin gives his shoulder a light nudge.

His eyes widen as he realizes everyone is staring at him, waiting for an answer he doesn't have. He feels his cheeks catch fire again, so he tugs his cap back and clears his throat.

“Positive, Officer Park.”

After clarifying the new protocols, the static in the air begins to thin, though the weight of a hundred stares remains. Jimin wipes a bead of sweat from his temple and slots his baton back into its holster, giving Jeongguk a pride look. 

"General pat-down before they hit the yard for real, Jeon. Remember your training from the academy?" He asks, snapping his latex gloves. "Arns out and legs wide. Keep the contact firm. Don't let a single shadow slip past your hands, huh."

"I’ve got this.” 

"Good. Start from Inmate 063 and work your way down. I’ll handle the other half."

Jeongguk takes a steadying breath, trying to ignore his heart as he realizes his line ends with the one man he’s supposed to avoid at all costs. At the very least, Rozanov is in Jimin’s half, sparing him another direct collision with the Russian's volatility.

He begins the procedure.

The first is Min Yoongi, the strategist with the faded green hair. The inmate turns toward the wall with a languid laziness, his tired eyes tracking the search with a detached lack of interest. He doesn't utter a single syllable, offering nothing but silence and obedience to Jeongguk’s clipped commands. It’s a clean procedure, efficient and professional. 

The second inmate is a face Jeongguk hasn't been introduced to yet; probably someone low-stakes. But he makes a mental note to dig through the prisoner’s file later anyway. In this place, anonymity is its own kind of threat.

As his hands slide firmly around the man’s waist, the inmate lets out a nasal chuckle that cuts against the air.

"Light hands, Officer... If you want something from me, all you have to do is ask."

"The only thing I'm gonna do is adding sexual harassment to your daily incident report, 023," Jeongguk counters instantly. He doesn't pause, his hands keeping moving with precision down the man's thighs. "Keep your mouth shut, or I'll use these 'light hands' to snap those fucking legs of yours. Am I clear?"

The inmate goes dead silent, the smirk wiped clean off his face by the razor-sharp bite. 

Jeongguk doesn't wait for a reply. He finishes the sweep with a rough shove and moves to the next man in line. 

Kim Taehyung.

The alpha doesn't move. He remains anchored in place, arms crossed over his chest like a fortress of muscle and ink, effectively barring Jeongguk from his personal space. 

"Do you think I came here to stare at your face?” Jeon asks, keeping his own hands at his sides, his fingers curled into tight fists. “Arms out, 095. Or do you want me to open them for you?"

Taehyung doesn't blink. He lets five agonizingly long seconds tick by, his eyes weighing Jeongguk’s soul, testing the structural integrity of the omega’s resolve. Only then, with a slow movement, does he unfurl his arms. 

He exposes the vast expanse of his tattooed shoulders and the hard-carved muscle shifting beneath the abrasive grey fabric of his uniform. 

Jeongguk breathes heavily and steps in, crossing the invisible boundary into Taehyung’s atmosphere. The alpha’s scent is strong; cool mint and something primal, a fragrance so intoxicating it threatens to turn Jeon’s knees to water.

”Any problem, Officer?” He suddenly asks in his deep voice. 

Jeongguk swallows hard, forcing his palms to make the contact. He tracks the line of Taehyung’s ribs. “Mouth shut, Kim.” 

As he leans in to check the waistband of the prisoner's trousers, his head comes dangerously close to Kim’s jaw. The heat radiating from his skin is hell. He’s literally hot. 

"Let me know if Rozanov or anyone else messes with you again.” 

Jeongguk freezes for a fraction of a second, the low vibration of Taehyung’s voice echoing through his very marrow.

He finishes the sweep with a jagged efficiency, stepping back to reclaim his territory. He forces his lungs to take in the cold air, staring into the alpha’s bottomless eyes with a gaze meant to cut glass.

“I’m a trained officer of the law, Kim. Do you think because I’m an omega, I need to be protected by a prisoner like you? Spare me.”

Taehyung lets out a huff of a laugh, but seems genuinely admired. He recrosses his arms as Jeongguk gives him a shove to keep the line moving.

“You could be an Alpha Lupus for all I care,” he murmurs, his back to the officer now. “Without the right connections, you won’t last a month in this hellhole, baby. I could protect you.” 

The pet name makes Jeongguk blush, Taehyung can see it under those cap’s shadow. He gives Jeon a satisfied laugh this time. 

“I’ll never need a connection from you, you can rest assured,” Jeon retorts. “Now, keep moving, Kim. Don't make me lose my temper on your first day under my watch.”

The electricity lingering between the fabric of his uniform and Taehyung’s skin is severed by the heavy thud of combat boots echoing across the concrete. A veteran officer, his face is a map of exhaustion and years spent in the trenches of this routine, approaches with a weathered clipboard in hand.

“Officer Jeon,” the man barks. “You left your entry protocol incomplete. I need you in administration immediately to finalize the admission papers and the block’s liability waiver.”

Jeongguk snaps his posture back into a perfect, rigid line in a heartbeat. He adjusts his tactical belt, scrubbing every trace of that whispered conversation from his face until his expression is professional.

“Yes, sir. I’m on my way.”

Jimin, who had been watching the exchange from the periphery with an analytical gaze and a knowing arch of his brow, closes the distance. He drops a hand onto Jeongguk’s shoulder, giving it an encouraging squeeze.

“Don’t worry, that’s Officer Choi. He’s like that with everybody.”

”Well, I already dislike him,” he whispers, making the beta laugh. 

“Everybody does. Now, go on, Jeon. The paperwork is a bitch, but if you don't sign off, the Commander will have your head on a silver platter for lunch,” he says with a airy chuckle. He cuts his eyes toward Taehyung—who hasn't looked away once—and his smile turns a fraction sharper. “I’ll handle the end of the yard rotation and catch you in the mess hall later. Try not to get lost in the labyrinth.”

Chapter Text

Jeongguk enters Officer Choi’s office with his jaw locked tight, still feeling the heat of the inmates' stares from the yard prickling his skin. Jimin’s introduction was supposed to be simple, but the bitter realization that he’ll always be seen as an omega before anything else leaves a sour taste in his mouth. He just wanted a moment to breathe, but the man sitting across from him seems hell-bent on making sure his first day ends in a wreck.

Choi doesn't even bother looking up. He’s an alpha, somewhere in his fifties, smelling of stale tobacco and the kind of forced authority used by men who enjoy being a thorn in their subordinates' sides.

"You're late, rookie," Choi barks before the door even clicks shut, his voice is grating and thick with unearned hostility. "Who gave you the green light to go wandering through the blocks before finishing your intake?"

Jeongguk blinks, caught off guard by the sheer aggression, but he doesn't flinch. He squares his shoulders and keeps hands clasped firmly behind his back.

"Officer Park was giving me the rundown on the facility and the inmates, per the commander's orders. I was told to report here to wrap up my paperwork, so here I am, sir."

Choi finally looks up, letting out a  nasal laugh at the response. He drops a leather folder onto the desk with a heavy thud.

"Officer Park is an idiot if he thinks safety regulations are optional. You don't set foot in any sector, let alone the yard, without signing off on every single one of these forms. What are you? A graduate, or are you just here to play the pretty omega for the inmates?"

Jeongguk feels the blood rush to his face and a wave of nausea hits him hard. He isn’t the type to take hits lying down, and Choi’s attitude is a bottom-tier insult to his competence.

"HR didn't mention any pending paperwork, Officer Choi. I followed the exact instructions I was given at the front desk," Jeongguk counters. "If there was a lapse in communication, it wasn't due to my negligence."

"I don't care who didn't tell you. Here, bureaucracy is the only thing keeping you in one piece. If you step outside again without every one of these pages initialed, I’ll personally make sure you don't last the week. Do I make myself clear?"

Jeongguk holds his gaze, not flinching for a second. He takes a step forward, leaning over Choi’s desk with one hand braced on the surface.

"I understand perfectly, sir. But next time you feel the need to guide me, try doing it without insulting my capability as an officer just because I’m an omega. I’m here to do my job, not to be your punching bag." Jeongguk reaches for the pen, snatching the folder from the man’s hands with a sharp tug. "Where do I sign so I can get back to the work I was actually hired for?"

Choi’s mouth hangs open, caught off guard by the sheer audacity of a rookie who refuses to bow his head; especially an omega. He watches Jeongguk sign the papers with simmering fury, his eyes gleaming with the urge to break that insolent posture.

"Since you’re so eager to work and think you’re in a position to lecture me, Jeon, let’s see if you have the stomach for how things really work around here," Choi says as Jeon scrawls his name on the final page. "Forget the tour with Park for now."

He stands, strides over to a metal locker at the back of the room, and tosses a pair of yellow rubber gloves and a bucket filled with harsh chemicals onto the desk, right on top of the documents Jeongguk just finished signing.

"Block C had some plumbing issues earlier today. The inmates decided it would be hilarious to clog the toilets with sheets and... other less hygienic things. The stench is unbearable, and the maintenance crew is off today."

Jeon stares at the gloves and then back at Choi’s smug face, not quite grasping where he’s going with this. The veteran officer crosses his arms over his chest, a devilish smirk pulling at his lips.

"You’re going down there to clean every single one of those cells. I want the floors gleaming and the smell of shit gone before dinner. Consider it a much-needed lesson in humility for someone who walked in here thinking they run the place."

Jeongguk feels his stomach churn, not just at the order itself, but at the humiliation of hearing this after years of grueling training in the academy. Cleaning cells is a task usually reserved as a punishment for inmates, not officers. It’s absurd.

"Excuse me, sir, but that isn't part of my duties as an officer…" Jeongguk says. "I wasn't hired as a janitor. I’m a policeman, I don’t clean cells. "

"You do whatever I tell you to do. Now, you either clean up that shit, or you can hand over your badge right now and go find yourself a real omega's job. I'm sure there are plenty of kitchens out there looking for help."

Jeongguk stands in absolute silence for a full minute after hearing those words, wondering if he had truly heard him right or if his frayed nerves were just inventing things. But the heavy alpha presence Choi begins to leak into the room, a blatant attempt at intimidation, is confirmation enough.

He feels his eyes prickle with heat and his nose beginning to sting; a reflexive response he can't control. He quickly masks it with a disbelieving laugh. He isn't usually the emotional type, but facing this kind of humiliation makes him want to break down.

"Care to share the joke, Jeon?" Choi asks, his finger still pointed toward the rubber gloves.

"It’s nothing, sir, " he stares at the bucket for a long moment. 

He knows if he walks away now, Choi wins. He knows if he runs to Jimin to complain, he'll look weak. So, he grips the handle of the bucket so hard the metal groans under the pressure.

"Fine, I’ll do it," he hisses. "But I hope you use all this free time to learn how to manage a team without needing a bucket of bleach to feel superior."

He spins on his heel and storms out, slamming the door hard enough to make the frames on the wall rattle.

🌷

Jeongguk marches through the prison corridors while the iron bucket clattering against his shin with every step. The heavy strike of his boots against the concrete floor announces his arrival to everyone within earshot. He is radiating pure, unadulterated fury, and the stinging scent of cheap disinfectant wafting from the bucket only serves to fuel his irritation.

When he stops in front of the first cell, his stomach drops the second he sees the number etched into the steel door. Just his luck. 

Taehyung is in there, sprawled out on the metal bunk with one muscled arm tucked behind his head and a book held casually in his hand. Jeongguk doesn't say a word. He doesn't look at the inmate's face, much less offer a greeting. He simply raps his baton against the bars to signal the procedure.

“What’s this, Officer?” Taehyung asks, putting his book on the bed. He was in the absolute best part of the reading, and for the life of him, he couldn’t recall doing anything wrong lately that would warrant an unscheduled police visit. “Here for a private date with me, or did you decide on a career change and become our new maid?”

“Hands through the slot, 095. I’m clearing your cell for the next hour. You’re going to stay in your corner and behave if you don’t want a trip to solitary.”

Taehyung arches an eyebrow at the sudden aggression, but he can sense that Jeongguk is a split second away from snapping.

“Understood. But may I ask why?”

“No, you may keep your mouth shut. Now, if you’d be so kind.” Jeongguk jerks his head toward Taehyung's hands, signaling for him to comply.

The moment Taehyung’s large hands slide through the bars, he snaps the cuffs shut with a violent click, tightening them far more than necessary.

He enters the cell, kicking the door shut behind him, and completely ignores the alpha’s presence near the lockers—and that infuriatingly erotic scent of mint clinging to him.

He slides the frosted restroom door open, drops to his knees on the grime, and grabs the brush, scrubbing with a brutal force. The liquid bleach splashes onto his pristine uniform, and he knows instantly he’ll need a fresh set if he doesn't want to walk around covered in stains. Fuck Officer Choi. 

“What the hell is this?” Taehyung asks, the mockery in his voice fades into something more focused. He notices the tremor in Jeongguk’s hands and the way the officer bites his lower lip to keep from crying. 

His sweet scent is starting to bleed through the barriers of his inhibitors—and that’s a serious problem. 

“What did that piece of shit Choi do to you? Get up from there.” 

Jeongguk keeps scrubbing, ignoring the questions once more. The sound of the brush against the floor is the only noise in the cell, save for the old television on the wall broadcasting some random report about a family murdered with poison. He sniffs, fighting back the urge to let out a frustrated sob. He wants to drop dead right then and there.

"Officer Jeon..." Taehyung insists, moving to intercept his arm with his cuffed hands. "You're a cop, not a janitor. Leave that shit alone. This is work for me."

He brushes a hand gently against the omega’s shoulder, though he nearly regrets the move when he realizes it’s likely to earn him either a broken nose or a one-way trip to solitary. Well, nearly regrets it. Perhaps he would if he didn’t have such a weakness for hot-headed boys. Especially hot-headed omega cops.

"Don't touch me! Back off!” Jeongguk shouts, lacking the courage to even look at him. “Don't speak to me. And don't you dare tell me what I should or shouldn't do. If you interfere with my work again, I swear on everything I'll take my anger out on you. And you don't want to see me angry, Kim." he goes back to scrubbing with even more violence, splashing the dirty water with disdain. 

Taehyung remains silent for a moment, watching the omega’s back with a calculating gaze. The fun is over. 

He knows if he lets Jeon spiral further into that pit of rage and humiliation, Choi will make a habit of it every chance he gets. He has been here far too long not to know that that son of a bitch loves nothing more than grinding people under his heel.

He needs to get Jeongguk out of there, and a high-profile witness is just what he needs.

"Officer?" He calls out, only to be promptly ignored once again. "Officer Jeon?"

No response.

“Omega?”

Jeongguk finally halts the scrubbing that would have soon bloodied his fingers if he kept up that pace, though he still refuses to look back.

Taehyung, however, can see the hair on the back of the officer’s neck stand on end at the call. He can't help the airy laugh that escapes him.

"You better never call me that again, Kim," Jeon orders. “I’m not joking.” 

"Why not, omega? Do you like being called omega by me?”

"What the hell do you want?" He finally meets the inmate's sharp gaze, but feels shame burning through him at being caught in such a state. "Go read your book, or watch television, or whatever the hell it is you usually do in here."

“Well, I would, but… I need the restroom. Right now."

"Feel free to use. I'm sure you can manage whatever you need to do with the cuffs on," Jeon replies.

"It's clogged. The plumber didn't show up this week, so..."

"Then call the guard on corridor patrol or something, Kim. Just leave me alone. I'm busy."

"I’m not going with that asshole who smells like expired disinfectant. Either you take me, or I’m doing it right here, in front of you," Taehyung goads, pushing the limit until he sees the vein in Jeongguk’s neck throb. "I think you wouldn't want to see my… you know, my dic—"

"Okay, I get it!" Jeongguk drops the brush with a heavy thud, blushing hard. He stands up, his face flushed and already smeared with sweat and chemicals, and huffs as he runs a hand through his soft hair. "You are such a pain, Kim Taehyung. I'm giving you two minutes. If you take any longer than that, I’m sending you to solitary."

“Two minutes is plenty, Officer.”

Jeongguk drops the brush onto the floor and yanks the glove from his right hand. He hauls Taehyung up and guides him out of the cell with a firm, bruising grip on his bicep. Fortunately for him, the corridor is nearly deserted. There is no audience to witness his little show of humiliation.

“No need to squeeze so hard, baby. I’m not going to run away from you,” Taehyung goads.

“As if you could even run away from me if you tried. Don’t underestimate me, Kim,” he replies, desperate to get this over with and return to his punishment. “Why don't you wear a uniform that actually fits?” 

“Why the curiosity? Enjoying the feel of my arm that much?”

Jeongguk doesn’t give him an answer. “Move fast.” 

As they round the corner leading to the administrative wing and the guard restrooms, Taehyung spots Jimin’s blonde head as he talks to a sergeant. It’s the perfect opening.

“Hey, Officer Park!” he yells, instantly catching the attention of every other guard on patrol nearby. “Come here, please. I need help!” 

“What the fuck are you doing? Shut up, Kim! Move it!” Jeongguk whispers, turning as pale as a sheet as he tries to shove the inmate forward. “I’m literally gonna kill you.” 

Jimin approaches with his brow furrowing as he takes in Jeongguk’s state: his uniform is disheveled, he’s wearing a rubber glove, and he reeks of pure bleach.

"Jeon? Why are you wearing this glove?" Jimin asks, darting his gaze between his friend and the inmate. “What’s going on here?”

"It’s nothing, Officer Park. Just a bit of a situation, but I’m already…"

"Officer Choi sent him down to scrub the shit out of the clogged cells,” Taehyung cuts. 

“What?!”

“Yeah, your colleague decided the rookie here has a real talent for being Block C’s new maid.”

Jeongguk feels his blood boil. The sheer shame of having his situation exposed—especially by the very inmate he’s supposed to be controlling—is too much. He clenches his fist so hard his knuckles crack, taking a menacing step toward Taehyung.

"I told you to shut your mouth, you ridiculous alpha!" he roars. His arm trembles with the urge to land a punch right in the middle of inmate 095’s irritating fox-like smirk. 

"Is that true, Jeon?" Jimin asks.

"Yes… it’s true. But inmate 095 had no right to open his mouth. I was just taking him to the restroom. He has nothing to do with it."

"But he’s right, Jeon. You’re as qualified as any other officer in this building; you aren't here to scrub cells. I’m going to have a word with Choi, and you’re coming with me."

Jeongguk sighs, finally giving up the fight with Taehyung. It isn't his fault. Whether he has an ulterior motive or not, he is only trying to help.

"Fine! Now get in that restroom and do what you have to do, Kim," Jeon orders, pointing toward the door with a sharp motion. "Two minutes!"

Taehyung looks Jeongguk up and down, all red and round everywhere, letting out a short laugh and rolling his shoulders casually despite the cuffs.

"You know what, Officer? The urge is gone. I want to go back to my cell."

"Are you fuckin’ kidding me?" He asks. "Fine. It’s better if you go back and scrub your own cell, since you don't share it with anyone anyway. Maybe then you'll reflect and learn to mind your own damn business. Let's go!"

"Let me take him back, Jeon," Jimin intervenes, tucking his radio into his tactical belt. "Wait for me in front of the admin office. I’m not letting Choi get away with this bullshit."

Jeongguk just nods, not trusting himself to open his mouth without letting out a scream of pure frustration. 

He stands paralyzed in the middle of the corridor, watching as Jimin guides Taehyung back toward the cell. Just before they round the corner, the alpha glances back over his shoulder, throwing a nearly imperceptible wink at him. He can’t help but let out a breathy laugh. Taehyung is a menace.

He tosses the rubber gloves into a nearby trash can, adjusts his cap, and tries to wipe some of the soap residue onto his trousers. He then starts walking toward Choi’s office, mentally cataloging every insult he plans to hurl the second Jimin flings that door open.

🌷

The door to the administration office—which Officer Choi usually occupies as if it were his own private office—slams against the wall with a violent crash. Jimin storms in like a hurricane, his face is flushed with rage and his posture screams that he is ready to trade his badge for a punch or two if necessary.

Jeongguk lingers right behind him, hands knotted together as he tries to swallow the lump in his throat. He didn't want to cause trouble on his very first day. That wasn’t the plan. All he wanted was to do his job, avoid every possible bit of stress, and then go home to sleep like a newborn baby. Instead, he turned the centerpiece of an imminent fight. 

“What the fuck were you thinking, Choi?” Jimin shouts, looming over the desk where the alpha sits with his feet kicked up, totally indifferent. “Who the hell do you think you are to send Jeon, or anyone else for that matter, to scrub shitholes in Block C?”

Choi doesn't even bother to sit up. He just lets out a mocking chuckle and flicks a toothpick from his lips, eyeing Jeongguk, who stands trembling behind Jimin.

“Look at that... the rookie went crying for help already,” he drawls. “Don’t be so dramatic, Officer Park. I was just testing his proactivity. If he’s too fragile for a little bleach, maybe he’s wearing the wrong uniform.”

“Proactivity, my ass!” Jimin slams his hand onto the desk, sending a stack of files scattering across the floor. “You’re just a pathetic, insecure prick who gets off on bullying the new hires. Jeon is a qualified officer, not your maid. If you want the cells clean, tell the inmates to do it or get off your lazy ass and grab a brush yourself.”

“He’s an omega, Jimin. Let’s be realistic here. I only suggested he do something that’s actually in his blood.”

Jeongguk feels his stomach churn. Choi’s voice echoes in the back of his mind, replaying the words he’d spat less than an hour ago.

“You said…” Jeongguk’s voice finally cuts through, stopping the string of curses Jimin was about to unleash. “You said I should find a real omega job. That I should get out of here and look for work in a kitchen somewhere, because that’s where I belong.”

Jimin freezes, his gaze shifting slowly between the alpha and the omega, his expression hardening into something purely hostile.

“You said what?” He asks. He takes a measured step back. He isn’t about to give Choi the satisfaction of a physical brawl that would cost him his badge. Instead, his hand drops to the radio on his belt, thumbing the button with bruising force. “Dispatch, this is Officer Park. Requesting the Commander’s immediate presence in the Block C administration office. We have a conduct violation and a breach of technical hierarchy. I repeat, get the Commander here. Now.”

“Have you lost your mind, Park?” Choi spits the words, scrambling to maintain his composure as other officers begin to peer through the doorway. He drops his feet from the desk and straightens up in his chair. “You’re going to drag the board into this over a bit of cleaning?”

“I’ll involve whoever I have to so I can make sure you never open your filthy mouth to talk about the nature of the staff ever again,” Jimin fires back. “You aren't an instructor, you aren't a captain, and you aren't the commander. You aren't shit. You’re just a mediocre senior officer who can't stand to see an omega occupying the same space as you without feeling threatened.”

Jeongguk remains rooted to the spot. The scent of bleach still clings to his skin, but Jimin’s presence at his side feels like a shield. He watches Choi begin to sweat as the sound of heavy, authoritative footsteps approaches from the corridor.

Commander Lee doesn't usually come down here, and when he does, someone always ends up paying the price.

“What is going on here?” Commander Lee’s voice echoes, filling the room and making the air feel heavier.

“Commander, the situation is unacceptable,” Jimin says immediately, gesturing toward Jeongguk. “Officer Choi decided his job description no longer applies to him and chose to use Jeon as his personal maid. He sent a trained officer, during active duty hours, to unclog and scrub cells in Block C while he stayed here neglecting his own work.”

The Commander’s brow furrows as his gaze cuts to Choi, but Jimin isn't finished.

“When questioned, he had the audacity to say that Jeon should look for 'work that’s in his blood.' That he should go find a kitchen, because that’s where he belongs. He used the hierarchy to humiliate a colleague based solely on his subgender. It’s blatant harassment and discrimination, sir.”

The Commander stares down Choi, who tries to open his mouth in defense but is cut off before he can make a sound. Lee has had his eye on Choi’s abusive behavior for a while now; this isn't the first time such an incident has reached his desk.

“Choi, hand over your badge and your weapon. You are suspended for thirty days, pending an administrative investigation for abuse of authority and discriminatory conduct. Get out of my sight before I decide on your immediate termination.”

“Sir, I didn’t—”

“Now!”

Choi turns pale, the arrogance finally draining from his face as he drops his badge onto the desk. Dozens of curious officers crowd the doorway, watching his downfall. Once He finally retreats, the Commander sighs and turns toward Jeongguk.

“Officer Jeon, I offer my deepest apologies for this. It was a grave failure of oversight. I promise this will not happen again under my command. Take the rest of the day to recover.”

Jeongguk feels every pair of eyes burning into his skin. He sees the morbid curiosity and the veiled judgment of his peers; he feels small, as if the room has shrunk and he’s the sole focus of an uncomfortable spotlight.

“It’s alright, sir. Thank you for intervening,” he murmurs, trembling slightly. “Excuse me.”

He doesn't wait another second. He turns his back on the Commander, on Jimin, and on all that stage of humiliation disguised as justice.

He clocks out, grabs his things from the locker, and walks hurriedly toward his car in the parking lot. The thin, icy drizzle outside seems to mirror his mood. To make matters worse, he’s forgotten his umbrella, leaving him no choice but to let the droplets soak into a uniform that is already far from pristine. Perhaps, he thinks, the rain might finally wash away the weight of his misery along with the grime.

The moment the door slams shut, he can’t hold it back anymore. He leans his forehead against the steering wheel and lets the tears break free, one by one.

The drive back to the apartment is nothing more than a blur of tears and the thud of the windshield wipers fighting against the persistent drizzle. Jeongguk drives as fast as the law allows, reaching home in only a few minutes.

The moment he parks and heads upstairs, the first thing he does in the silence of his home is call the only person capable of comforting him. He props his phone against the kitchen counter and starts the video call while struggling to peel off his damp uniform.

When his mother’s face appears on the screen, wearing a tender smile that seems to brighten everything, the knot in his throat returns with a vengeance.

“Baby? Why are you home so early?” she asks, concerned. “And why that face?”

Jeongguk breaks down once more. He tells her about Choi, the humiliation of scrubbing the cells, and how the Commander had to intervene. He leaves out Jimin’s swearing but describes the crushing feeling of being an intruder in his own profession.

“That man is a monster, Gukkie,” she says, her eyes shimmering with indignation. “You are a brilliant officer. You always have been. Don’t you let any alpha in that place try to humiliate you again, do you understand?”

“The worst part of it all, Omma…” Jeongguk wipes his face with the back of his hand, letting out a breathy laugh. “An inmate was the one who put a stop to it. Kim Taehyung. He staged this whole thing just to get me out of there and flag down Officer Park.”

“Well, that’s quite the gentlemanly move.”  Mrs. Jeon tilts her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “That’s actually very admirable of him, Gukkie.”

“He’s an insolent alpha, Omma,” Jeongguk retorts, kicking off his soaked socks with his own feet. “He’s a world-class manipulator, that’s exactly why he’s locked up. I’m sure he only did it to get under my skin or put me in his debt.”

He goes quiet for a second, staring at the screen as exhaustion starts to pull at his eyelids. He’s spent, and all he wants is to crawl into bed and disappear for a while.

“But… I have to admit. If it wasn’t for his performance, I’d probably still be there, scrubbing that floor until my fingers fell off.”

“Sometimes, help comes from the places we least expect, honey,” she says softly. “Remember that. Maybe there’s a spark of good in him after all.”

“Maybe. But it doesn’t change anything. I’m grateful for what he did, sure, but I’m not going soft. Starting tomorrow, I’m not going easy on him, or the other inmates, or the officers.”

“That’s the spirit, baby. Don’t give those guys an inch.”