JIN POV:

I groan as I step out of the bathroom, body feeling so sore, so thoroughly marked and used. I could still feel Kookie's tight grip on my hips, could still feel the sharp urgent need behind every thrust and every roll of his hips, still heard his groan needy and low in my ears, his soft glossy ears falling forward, eyes boring into mine, unable to look away as he held me to him.

The heat of the water had done wonders to ease away the soreness to a dull throb, to wash away the proof of just how much Kookie had needed me. Wings flapping and rustling, trying to get dry and shake off the water that clung to feathers.

Stepping out, knowing that it had been fine to leave Kookie for now, knowing he was with Hobi at the moment. Knowing that in the time I hadn't been keeping an eye on him the others had.

It had become some sort of desperate race to rush to whirl Kookie away any moment when the scent seeped out stronger, when it made his body simultaneously stiffen and bristle with need and he'd bolted. Scrabbled out of reach and rushed for her door.

It was pushing every packmate to be on full alert and ready to snap into action whether that was Yoongi leaping into place, sleek muscles rippling under a coat of black shiny fur at times and body blocking him off, turning him away from barrelling through, Hobi hurrying to help draw him back, his expression jolting at the hit of pheromones before he rushed to get the both of them away, managing to keep control because of the very light suppressants the centre had him on.

And now when I stepped out, the first thing I did was run my eyes carefully over the hallway. Driven to scan it for any sort of anomaly, to see if there was anything I needed to rush to slot myself into.

But it's calm.

It's quiet.

There's no franticness and that alone has my pace remaining steady, unfaltering as I pad out in search for the others.

Sighing with relief when I see Kookie asleep in our room, curled around my side of the bed, face buried into the mound of pillows. Body still and relaxed. Splayed wide.

I close the door carefully behind him. Eager to let him rest just as much.

Eager to let his body to try and settle as much as it could. To rest between the sudden ruts he was thrown into.

And when I close the door, it's to walk further down the apartment to check up on (Y/N), to see if she needed anything.

I felt failed whenever I saw the trays outside the room door, food barely touched, bottles of water empty and crushed. Felt my wings sag, weighed down whenever I heard her small sniffles, trying to be muffled behind the door, when I heard her voice waver as she responded to the questions.

No she didn't need food.

No the medicine was helping. It was lessening the pain.

Though I doubted her answers then. Not when her voice hitched, not when a whimper cut her words off and I heard her voice muffled when she spoke again.

As if her hand had clamped over her mouth to try and stifle the pain seeping out from between fingers.

But this time when I approach her bedroom, there's already a figure curled against the door, side pressed to the wood as Yoongi murmurs to her.

"(Y/N)...I know it's hard but try to eat something. It's been a few days since you've had a proper meal." Yoongi says softly.

Turns when I approach, my eyes going to the tray in his hands.

Still hot.

He must've made it just now.

"Have the others eaten lunch?" I ask.

He gives a small shake.

"I just saw Joon head out, I've told them to get started though." He says softly.

Knuckles rapping against the door gently.

"(Y/N)...if you can't come to the door, we'll leave it here. But please eat." He says, bending down to leave the tray there.

But before we can move away, his ears perk up, catching the heavy uncoordinated tread of footsteps, the sound of the door being opened.

And my heart crumpled a bit more.

Flushed cheeks and glassy, pain filled eyes that peeked from around the door and inched it more open when she saw me, unable to dredge up the smile she'd been able to in the first day. Even then it had been wobbly and strained.

And when she saw Yoongi she seemed to tremble, breath hitching and holding it when he stepped close. Fingers shaking when they took the tray, curled around it tightly as if any second it would tumble from her hands.

"I've tried making something lighter. It's easier to drink right? Can you try to drink some soup?" he says gently.

She gives a shaky nod.

But a part of me is resigned.

Already knows that it'll be waiting for me when I come back later.

"Won't my scent carry to the others? You should..." she begins, eyes trailing to Yoongi.

He gives her a small sad smile.

"Don't worry about that. I know medicines aren't really helping. How long do your heats last for? We should get you to see a hybrid doctor afterwards." He asks softly.

Her fingers curl around the tray tighter.

Shaking her head as she lets out a wavery breath.

"I won't need a doctor, this one caught me off guard. It'll be shorter than the usual because I don't have a....because it's sudden." She finishes, words changing course.

A shorter heat because she didn't have someone helping her through it. Because just as quickly as she'd been submerged in the breeding instincts, the same instincts were being left unfulfilled. And her body would try tug her out of it. Tug her out because she was alone.

"I can't wait for it to be over. I'm so done with..." she starts, expression shuttering as her eyes clench shut.

Curving away from the door.

Disappearing from sight, the door slipping shut briefly. The sound of a slight clatter disguising slightly the soft groan of pain.

And when she returns, her face is pinched and eyes begin to haze once more.

Rushing to close the door with a soft apology slipping past bitten lips as she shuts the door.

My wings flap, flaring out when I hear a thud.

Hear the sound of her body crumpling behind the door and the slew of pained whimpers that escape, breathless pleas for it to end.

It makes my heart twist viciously, makes my eyes sting because of how much pain she's in.

And Yoongi's no better.

His hand tugs at his ear as he looks at the door, emotions flitting across his face as he stares at the door with a defeated expression.

Stepping away.

Staggered steps back.

"Why can't we do anything to help?" he whispers.

I can't quite swallow past the lump in my throat.

"I don't know. But I hope when this is all over that we can." I say.

Voice aching.

Instincts burning fiercely to try and protect her. But not strong enough than what I want, what I want even without instincts stirring it up.

I want nothing more than just to hold her.

To wipe away the tears that stained her cheeks and dried there. To hold her and soothe away the pains that lingered.

"Yoongi-ah, go eat. The boys probably won't until you're there nudging them along." I finally say, hand reaching out to squeeze his shoulder, surprised but welcoming it when he turns into me, silently wrapping his arms around me and holding himself close.

My hands curve around his back, wings rustling when his fingers accidentally graze the underside of them, jolting into the touch before I relax.

"She'll be okay Yoongi-ah, I won't have it any other way." I promise, head tucked and bent towards his.

Unable to smell his citrusy scent, but able to catch a trail of sweet stickiness clinging.

Remaining to him.

"Make sure you change before you head back. Even I can smell her on you." I murmur when he withdraws, all too soon the warmth curling away.

He nods.

Hands dropping my waist to squeeze at me through the shirt before he steps away.

"Make sure you eat. Get Kookie to eat too. You look run off your feet." He says before moving away, tugging at his shirt and sniffing, to see just how potent her scent was that clung to her.

A look of urgency seeping in when it registers.

Head cocked as he peers back at me.

"I think Kookie's stirring." Is his final departing words as he moves away, lips wry and going for gentle tease.

Vanishing out of sight as he turns round the corner.

Kookie's awake.

Time to see if he was up for food.

But when I cracked the door open and peered at the bed, he was just shuffling and twisting about, curling closer to the pillows and mumbled sleepy murmurs as he shifts in sleep.

It's too late I realise that her scent must have seeped out to me too.

And I'd walked into a closed space, had sealed myself in with her scent to drift out to him.

See it when his sleepy eyes that blink at me, lips loose as he smiles turn sharper and focused. See his body turn and twist even as he tries to squish his face into the pillow. Into where our scents were strongest. The muffled groan I got in response was answer enough that it had failed.

But this time I don't resign myself to tugging my clothes off, already knowing the imminent end was our bodies intertwined and cries muffled against each other.

This time I draw off my shirt, knowing the scent clung to it most and sighed as I moved to put it into the laundry basket, tugging the clothes we'd discarded last night over it, trying to stifle her scent.

And pad over, jeans still on towards the bed.

"That was my bad bun." I apologise clambering on beside him, leaning against the headboard and fingers carding through his hair, trailing to the back of his ears.

Getting them to droop as my fingers rub through silky fur, scratch lightly at the base of them.

"How is she?" he asks, turning to face me.

Looking just as exhausted himself. Rut after rut was taking it out of him. And he kept trying to avoid her scent, tried to be behind me as we walked but when her cycles hit, her scent naturally pulsed out heavier and I couldn't quite whisk him away before his nose twitched as he caught it.

"She's a bit rough. I think her next cycle must be peaking." I murmur softly, seeing how he tilts into the touch, eyes fluttering as he bends his head towards me.

It draws a smile to my face.

A different sort of neediness this time.

Just a soft clingy bun.

"How is she surviving? I'm tired of rutting." He groans, turning to press his face into the pillow.

My lips quirk.

"Don't seem tired though Jungkook-ah, could've fooled me with how many times I keep getting trapped under you." I joke.

He huffs but doesn't refute it.

He squirms on the bed when my fingers trail to the nape of his neck, fingers curling around, catching at his scent gland only briefly.

Swollen and puffy and red. Marked too.

There wasn't that same burning need to scent as he did. But there was something so deliciously satisfying at seeing the way he would go boneless under my touch. Something so satisfying about the way his eyes fluttered and lips parted when my thumb would press down on it and coax out his scent.

And even now the slight touch had him shuddering, trembling even as he pressed into it, tilting forward so the pressure grew slightly.

When his eyes meet mine they're hazy, beginning to lose focus. Glazed over with rut instinct. But this time it felt different.

Didn't feel like burning need to breed. 

And when I coo, rubbing circles into his gland and he cries out, hips rising off the bed the realisation sinks in.

Not to breed. But to be bred.

"A different sort this time Kook-ah?" I ask, leaning in when his hand flails, reaching out for me, scrabbling up denim to press against my stomach, fingers splayed wide. Fingers pressed firm as if to leech the warmth off me.

But when his wrist keeps rubbing against my stomach, dragging across skin a fondness bursts in my chest.

"Want to smell like me baby?" I ask, seeing the way he rubs the glands of his wrist across bare skin, trying to coat them with me.

"Hyung always smells sweet." He mumbles, pushing himself off the bed, pushing to get close.

"My baby is sweeter." I coo, drawing him close for a kiss.

The same urgency, the same raw need in the way his lips moved against mine. But this time they didn't push to dominate, they caved this time, sighing against me when I tugged him close, lips falling open when my tongue flicked against them. Giving in to the kiss this time. Giving up control.

And a yank at his arm to coax him close until he's messily trying to straddle me, clothes askew from his nap and face slightly puffy.

And he melts when I press a peck to his lips, hands sliding down the curve of his spine.

"This time baby boy...you're under me." I whisper in his ear.

The shuddery whine I get has my lips curving wide into a wicked pleased smile.

-------

I brush my lips over skin, soothing and murmuring to him as I unwind my arms from around Kookie, hands gentle on his body as I slowly draw myself away. Smiling when he leans forward to both clutch at me and sink into the touch.

Satiated and completely boneless against the mattress.

"The amount of laundry I'm having to do Kook-ah." I sigh, eyes drifting to the laundry basket, to the clothes hastily thrown aside.

He just shoots me a toothy grin.

"You mean me. I'll get them done once I get the feeling back in my legs." He says, stretching said legs across the sheets, poking at me when I lean back.

"Or you laundry fairy. Looks like our bakery hours have just changed to being in bed pretty much." I muse, clambering to my legs, setting the damp used towel into the basket too.

I stretch out, reaching for the clothes discarded, redressing and groaning when I see the time.

Lunch.

I needed to get Kookie to eat.

He was burning more energy than he was consuming. The frequent munching and snacking habits had been pushed to the back.

And I wasn't going to be a bad mate and let it keep happening.

I needed to sit him down for a heavy meal.

"Kook-ah, kitchen when you're out of bed. You need to eat bun." I say stepping away.

Reaching the door and turning to smile at him.

Seeing the way he pouts, eyes imploring and trying to draw me back to him.

Watch as he sighs and relents.

"I'll bring the first load of laundry through." He mumbles.

My lips spread wider.

"Thank you bun. I'll get some food ready for you." and then I'm stepping away.

Her scent is gone when I step out. And the fact that I can't detect it any more means it's lessened considerably.

But it still reach for scent diffusers, still reach for the neutralising air fresheners to help clear whatever lingering sweetness that could still be clinging to the air. 

And when there's nothing left in the air, no lingering scent, no sweetness, no scent at all do I step into the kitchen, intending to making a laden meal for Kookie. To get him to regain all that lost energy, to keep that balance before it tipped over.

It's when he's sitting down and tucking in to stew, filled with vegetables and meat, pushing forward a fresh loaf of thick crust bread too that I push myself off the chair.

"Keep eating Kookie, I'm going to check up on (Y/N)." I say.

He pauses, chewing on the mouthful of bread as he turns to track me walking, eyes wide and ears perking up.

"Did she manage to eat anything?" he asks after swallowing heavily.

I shrug my shoulders but there's too much stiffness in them for it to be an easy gesture.

"I guess I'll find out."

And true to my fears, the tray sits outside her door. Spoon sitting in the soup but it's only slightly lessened from what it had been when Yoongi had given it to her. Side dishes untouched and empty crinkled bottles.

And from within her room. No sound comes out.

No sort of indication of how she's faring.

JOON POV:

There's urgency and want in Jimin. Unbridled, unrestrained need in the way he growls and snaps and writhes to escape, to rush to the door. Pained wounded cries and pleas, fangs bared and ears pinned back as he says over and over again.

I need to go.

I need to go to her.

She needs me too.

It hurts. Every time he pleas it feels like a shard of glass is driven into my heart, piercing through flesh, wound weeping with blood and heart aching every time he tries to escape from me. Twisting away from my touch, growling and hissing as if in that instant he doesn't see me. He doesn't see a mate.

He smells me. And sees a threat, sees someone keeping him away from the very in-heat, vulnerable doe locked away in her room.

And when that feverish urgency seems to bleed out of him, he droops. Wilts as if all the energy is drained out of him, whimpering as he curls around me, mumbling apologises, skin wet with the tears he hides against my throat, scenting to be soothed, to try and get rid of that syrupy floral sweetness that clings to every crevice of his mind, that lingers on no matter how hard we try to keep the air purified of scent, try to diffuse it so it doesn't throw Jimin into pure, compulsive instincts, so it doesn't throw Kookie into a rut.

Right now he curls under me, asleep for once.

Not tossing and turning when his ears perk and hid body stiffens, a fresh wave of pheromones pulsing out from under the room door. Not eyeing the door slyly or secretively trying to sneak away to be caught by one packmate or the other.

To look barely chagrined as he slumps down, fidgety until the restlessness is scented out of him, until a light nip has him slumping and curling into one of our sides. At ease for now.

Asleep. Body loosened, muscles limp. Tail twitching and swishing occasionally, ears drooped and eyes lined with shadows of sleepless nights, of plagued nights where his ears remained perked up and straining, eyes wounded when he asked pleadingly if he could go, body darting off despite the rejection only to be towed back, to let that building want to snap by letting him assert control.

Letting him exert dominance as he pinned me down to the bed, to the couch, as his fangs and teeth coloured more and more of my skin, hands impatient as they curled into my sides and tugged at my clothes, mouth feverish as her marked, claimed.

Chanting mine, mine, mine against every inch of skin over and over.

Always yours. Always yours Minnie.

And as I curl beside him, hand going to settle on his waist, there's an ache in my heart that lessens just in the slightest when he unconsciously shifts and leans into the touch. Something so him in the way his lips parted as he slept, the way his cheek was smushed against the pillow, hair slightly damp and clothes far too loose. A shirt that was mine.

An old one back from our training days. Soft and thin. Well worn. 

The knots that ravelled around my stomach and squeezed loosened just lightly at the sight of it.

His comfort shirt. And it didn't escape me that despite being in this sudden rut that he'd been thrown into, mind consumed by the scent of (Y/N) in the deep cycles of heat, he still clung to comfort. He still clung onto what I meant for him.

"I'm sorry Minnie. Sorry it's so hard on you." I murmur, leaning to nuzzle against his temple, breathing in the scent of him, sweet gentle mint mingling with our shared body wash. Smelling like home, like comfort, like mate, the other half to me.

Pressing my lips to his forehead, smiling when he wriggles closer, sighing as his hand reaches out for me, clutching at my shirt.

"I'm sorry. I keep trying to control myself. I'm trying so hard...but I can't win. I keep losing." He whispers into my chest, my ears perking up and tail thumping the mattress with surprise.

Not expecting him to be awake.

Not expecting him to be this coherent, voice a low rough rumble.

Hoarse from all the pleading, from all the snarling and crying out. Whether that was with dominance and in the throes of pleasure or whether that was keening and high, whimpering for (Y/N).

I lean back, see the way his head tilts up.

Remorse and apology in his shining brown eyes, twisting his lips into a frown. 

Looking so exhausted, so drained by being at war with himself. Trying to dissociate biological instinct from himself. But failing.

Because he'd been thrown headfirst into it all.

We all had.

But his bond with (Y/N), deeper and sweet was now dangling precariously. Because he wanted to help her but couldn't.

Because there were lines that couldn't be crossed, couldn't be blurred without consequence, without a horrific aftermath that I wanted neither of them to go through.

Because letting Jiminie close to (Y/N) when she was extremely vulnerable, susceptible to be swayed by the slightest show of dominance, by strong responding pheromones was a recipe for disaster.

Because the two of them would be driven by instinct and not rationality, because that part of animal want that lingered in the hindbrain would flare to the surface, would overwhelm anything logical, anything that wasn't in their control.

And hearing the pain, the agony seep into Jiminie's words as he pressed his face close, head ducking to press against my throat, had my heart twisting with agony even as my arm automatically moved to wrap him closer.

"I know you are. Every time you hold back, every time you shift, I know you're trying." I whisper.

And though my arms had curled him close to me, had moved to lessen the distance between us, I couldn't help but wonder whether a greater distance existed between us. Whether I'd left some part of our relationship unsatisfied, unfulfilled. Whether it was the fact that I was a wolf, a dominant predator hybrid, and that because of our dominant biological needs I was unable to give him exactly what it was his instincts were demanding at this instant.

And even though he nuzzled against my skin, layering his mint, sleepy and sweet, onto me, merging it with my own scent, I felt an ache, felt a melancholy as he curled into my embrace. Because I knew if he could, he would be with (Y/N) right now. He'd be instinctually satiated, he'd be so deeply soothed and settled.

And I was only trying and trying and trying to fill that space for him, to let him fulfil those dominant instincts to breed, to protect. But there was only so much that a substitute could do.

There was only so much I could help with.

Otherwise he wouldn't be compelled to bolt and try to escape every time a trail of her scent pulsed out stronger.

"I'm sorry too. That a part of your instincts were always left unsatisfied." I whisper.

Shutting my eyes against the prickling sensation threatening to build and spill over.

His hands clutch at me tighter, skin hotter and heated, running with that feverish rut as he burrows himself closer.

"Don't be sorry." Is murmured against skin.

But it doesn't quite banish that guilt, that worry that worms away at me.

------

I scrub at my hair with the towel, roughly drying it as I reach for my clothes. Skin littered with fresher marks, skin darkening and purpling where Jiminie had clamped his teeth, mouth sealing over skin as he growled, feeling the reverberations as I shuddered under him, giving in and melting under every touch, words a breathless pant as he'd taken and taken and I'd given and given.

I hiss when my fingers brush against sore, bruised hips, tugging the loose pyjamas over me. I couldn't head into the office and work on the case with Jiminie so precariously thrown off with pheromones, couldn't leave him alone and untended to. So work had to come home.

And when I step out it's in time to see Yoongi hyung carefully carrying a tray of food as he heads towards the other end of the apartment.

Citrusy scent contained and dulled by the suppressants he'd swallowed the first day of (Y/N)'s heat, murmuring without meeting anyone's gaze that someone had to help Jin hyung with her, someone had to be able to take care of her in every way we could.

Despite the slightly bitter twist to his lips as he'd swallowed the pills daily, he didn't complain, was careful to stirp off his clothes and scrub off residual floral sweetness from him when he returned. So cautious to not send either Tae or Hobi into rut in response to her pheromones.

And even now there was a gentle smile as he paused to take me in, tail curling behind him.

"Tae's got Jiminie. I don't think he'll be going anywhere for quite some time." he says wryly, lips quirked in a fond gummy smile.

There was something about his calm demeanour, about the way his voice low and soft didn't fail to give reassurance. Something about the way his eyes just knew, knew without asking that my first question was going to be whether anything had happened.

"Food's ready. I'll be back soon so get started." He prompts, nudging me towards the living room and kitchen.

I smile gratefully at him, moving to step pass and walk forward when his voice carries over.

"You're doing good pup. Doing so well." And the praise makes my cheeks warm, tail wagging quick and when my head turns quickly, it's to see him continuing to advance down the hallway, tail slowly swishing behind him.

As if he knew I'd needed it. As if he knew that words went a long way and that his had settled a bit of the nervousness that continued to churn my stomach day in and day out recently.

My feet carry me to the living room, scanning it for the others and stopping in the doorway, heart squeezing with tenderness at the sight I'd walked into.

Lips stretched wide at the sight of Jiminie and Tae curled up on the carpet. A stripey tail draped over Minnie's waist, his own tail gently swishing against the floor, nosing happily at the loopy, pliant bundle he was curved onto. The strong scent of strawberries and crushed mint, sweet and tantalising, merging together into something cool and ripe. Fresh. 

Tae's head of curls thrown back onto a cushion, a stream of deep rumbles spilling past his lips as Minnie moved closer and closer, fluffy ears twitching and body relaxed as a body came to settle over his, legs astride his waist as Minnie leaned in to scent at his jaw, nosing at it and fangs trailing across skin. There were discarded cushions and throws around them, caging them in within the soft barriers they'd created.

An impromptu nest. With all the comfort and instinctual emotion to protect, to covet the one it was being shared with.

Hobi's head rises off one end of the sofa, ears twirling as he turns to grin at me, legs drawn up to his knees, head tilted with invitation to the large space beside him.

Quietly I slip in, smiling when Tae's eyes that had been shut, face smoothened with bliss flutter open to look at me, a boxy fangy smile of greeting that melts, loose and languid as he sighs, parting his neck for Jiminie to keep rubbing against, an intimate scent marking as he rubs his cheek against the strong column of Tae's throat.

For all that Tae was a tiger, could just as easily twist the situation, could meet dominance with dominance, could pin Jiminie down under him, he was content to be underneath, content to be sprawled out with a dominant-headspace fox hybrid. Melting under each touch, responding with the soothing constant sound of chuffs, their combined scents made my mouth water.

"You missed their roughhousing." Hobi remarks from beside me, casual and light as if he was just stating a fact from the notes he was intently looking at.

Eyes flashing when they meet mine.

A coy smile on his lips.

That explained the scatter of cushions, the table pushed to the side, the slightly dishevelled experience of their clothes rucked up, revealing the dip of Jiminie's back, pyjamas slung low on his hips as he ducked his head lower, coaxing out more of the scent and more of the pleased satisfied rumbles.

"It was quite the sight. That's what all the red marks are." Hobi says, nudging my thigh with his foot, drawing attention to the small splodges of colour on both their necks and collarbones. Fangs nipping at each other.

But it had helped make the tension loosen out of Jiminie's posture. He looked less strung up than he'd been all day, almost lazy in the way he indulged his instincts.

And as I draw a cluster of files that had arrived today, I resign myself to losing myself in the endless chasm of running in circles, in drawing blank ends.

I don't truly get to focus because Yoongi hyung returns, a chiding click of his teeth as he looks at us. His clothes have changed, no residue sweetness clinging to him.

"Pup I told you to eat. Put the files away." is sent in my direction and the notes directly yanked out of Hobi's grip.

"You too cub. All of you need to eat." He says as he carefully brushes his hand down the back of Jiminie's head, scent still that muted citrus when it makes Jiminie let out a small rumbly chirp.

"You can cling onto Tae as you eat." He promises.

Drawing the two up and smiling when Tae sways, leaning heavily into Minnie's side, eyes that glassy look of pheromone drunk. The two of them clinging and latched onto each other as they pile onto seats together, sides brushing.

I give a guilty glance to the files waiting when a hand tugs at my wrist, brushing over the scent gland and draws me close.

Allowing Yoongi hyung to tug me between him and Hobi.

"Maybe this was well needed downtime. You can relax for ten minutes without feeling guilty." He insists, pushing my plate forward and only starting when he sees us all eating.

Thoughtful and silent as he chews, eyes flitting curiously towards Jimin who seems to be more relaxed and calmer, who's not holding any of that jitteriness. Still leaning in towards Tae who's no better off.

But whatever is going on in hyung's mind isn't voiced. Even as he nudges Tae and Jiminie off to nap in the bedrooms instead.

"Tae looks like he could do with more cuddles Jimin-ah. He doesn't like being left alone after so much scenting." Yoongi hyung says, lips quirking when it makes whatever protest Jimin had die on his lips.

Has him latching onto Tae, arms wound around him as the two stumble off to bed, steps a bit clumsy with the endearing way Tae giggles and leans into the hug.

"I want kisses too." Is the last thing I hear Tae bargain for as one of the bedroom doors click shut behind them.

Without asking, without confirming I know that Tae is also aware that he plays a role in keeping Jiminie calm, someone who doesn't care for giving up the dominance, his instincts don't struggle for that power.

Knows that keeping Jimin with him as long as he can is less likely to get them exposed to     (Y/N)'s scent.

And it's only when Hobi and I have settled back onto the couch, legs drawn up and tugging our respective work over does Yoongi hyung plop down onto the impromptu nest the boys left behind.

"We need to find ways to ease (Y/N) through her heat. It isn't getting any better." voice gentle and concerned but words blunt and straightforward.

It makes my head jerk away from the papers I'd begun turning.

It makes Hobi's grip around the highlighter tighten.

"How bad?" Hobi breathes.

There's something dark and hurt that flits through Yoongi hyung's eyes.

"Bad. She's not managed to eat food for the past three days. It keeps coming back barely touched. A mouthful here or there." Honest and worried.

It makes my stomach lurch, my own lunch twisting uneasily inside me.

"She's in a lot of pain. The medication isn't helping and I just....the sounds...." Hyung trails off, voice wavering and eyes fluttering shut as if trying to block out the memories of her cries from mind, trying to banish them from thought.

Beside me Hobi shuffles, restlessly turning and moving, body straightening up.

"But the pharmacist said they were designed for in heat does. I even asked according to (Y/N)'s hybrid biology." He mumbles.

"It's nearly always impossible to override a heat or rut, medication can't dampen a flow that's already begun." I murmur.

Which meant that despite the medication being as suited for her as it could be, because she'd already been in the cycles of her heat, it wouldn't do much at all. Wouldn't be able to prevent the overwhelming urges and needs she was experiencing.

He looks troubled by it.

"We have to wait it through. Even if...even if it makes me feel useless that we can't do anything." I add.

Jimin. Jungkookie. (Y/N).

Jimin who was thrown into a rut cycle, fiercer and harsher than ever. Body burning and consumed with a need, a franticness I'd never seen before. Heightened instinctual want and biology demanding for him to take every opportunity to get to her. Whether that was a frantic dash for the other end of the apartment or whether it was slyly trying to creep out when he thought I'd fallen asleep, body quietly shifting and trying to edge away.

Kookie who's daily suppressants were failing because he was constantly being exposed to her heat pheromones, because his biology could immediately respond to heat pheromones by pushing him to rutting instincts, to that breeding need that never truly went. 

And (Y/N). She'd forgotten her suppressants because her entire daily life, her sense of normalcy had been thrown off kilter. Because there had been change after change thrown at her that she'd forgotten to take her daily suppressants and they'd left her system fully, pushing her be thrown suddenly into heat.

And everyone else. Who tried to cling to normalcy, tried to avoid following suit. Yoongi hyung kept Tae and Hobi away from the other end of the apartment, not wanting their own ruts to be induced by a pheromonal response and not wanting them to take suppressants either. Hyung seemed to hold some sort of disdain for suppressants, there was no mistaking the look of resignation and determination merging together as he swallowed one daily since (Y/N)'s heat. I had to follow suit. Taking mild suppressors to stop my body responding instinctively to my mate's, to be consumed in the same mindless need.

I fiddle with the folder, turning the first page to get to the case details.

Other ones that we were meant to be working on as well. Because we couldn't be occupied with just one case. Because we had to be helping more than just one person and had to stop more than one group of people violating laws.

I frown when I see it's a missing person's report. An early twenties male.

Turning my head to the other two before I get started.

"(Y/N)'s insisted she doesn't need one. But maybe her seeing a doctor afterwards might be good. Heats can be brutal without the right support for it." Hobi adds.

Eyes darting to Yoongi hyung for confirmation. He gives a small tight nod.

I sigh.

"Whatever it is she needs. I'll make sure she gets it." I promise.

That was the least we could do. It was the least she deserved.

It was the least I could do.

Somewhere along the lines the fact that we'd been unsuccessful in narrowing down the case had been one of the triggers to her heat. Because we'd failed to get rid of the threat hovering over her, she'd forgotten her suppressants.

Somewhere along the lines I didn't miss the fact that I had a role in the mess we were all in.

So of course I would do anything I could to lessen its aftermath.

(Y/N) POV:

It all spins and merges together into one nauseating whirl of memories. Time blurring and the world beyond the four walls fading, ceasing to exist.

I didn't know what time it was when one cycle ended and my body progressed into the next.

Didn't know when it was that there were knocks on my door but my sense of time passing narrowed down to those moments.

Some when I couldn't drag myself off the bed, off the rumpled sheets, the room dark from the lack of light seeping in the curtains. When the voices eventually faded away and retreated. Sometimes there was light outside as I wobbled towards the door, legs burning and aching but not quite able to bring myself to tune out the soft low voices of reassurance and concern.

I couldn't deny how those moments brought such profound relief too. That there was something about the way their voices, Yoongi and Jin's, low and soothing made my instincts feel settled, made them feel protected. Couldn't deny that something in my gut twisted with both longing and reassurance when I saw Jin's wings flap, spread wide as if to protect me, the way Yoongi's eyes, narrowed and focused never drifted off me as he talked.

But I also couldn't deny the way that when they left my body trembled for them, ached for that presence of someone who embodied safety and security, ached for the way my instincts recognised their scents as predator, as larger, as ones who could help me, soothe and guide me through this heat.

Couldn't deny that though their voices and scents were momentary relief, the agony it tore through my body afterwards was greater. Shaking and trembling, sobs muffled against soaked pillows as I pleaded, pleaded to be taken care of. To be looked after.

Anything to please lessen the way the pain tore through each limb, made me cramp and shudder, back arched and body splayed on the mattress, cocooned within the nest of Eunwoo and Binnie's scents, my own sticking to every fibre of material, to every particle of air, to every crevice of the room.

Moving was like trekking through molasses, heavy and cloying, clinging to every  inch of skin and body slumping to the mattress, drained of energy, drained of the ability to move was as if I was lost in that syrup, as if it was sticking to me and drawing me down, every breath laboured and rough, shuddering as I drew in oversweet air.

And every plea went unheard. Day or night. Every cycle was alone and my body that had craved, that had clung to that mixture of scents addicting and promising was left alone, was abandoned. The mint never returned in its full sweet potency again, it came close but just as my body rose from the bed, trembling fingers clutching at the table to draw myself towards it, it retreated. Body caving and slumping to the ground, breathless sobs as I clutched at myself, hands digging into skin, rocking myself back and forth.

But the mint never came.

The earthy richness never came.

The citrus came in soft waves, simultaneously cruel and kind. Offering me a reprieve, lungs full of it long after Yoongi left, long after the tray became something I couldn't stand the sight or smell of.

The scents came. But not a single person did.

No-one entered the prison of the room. No-one lessened the ache that clawed at me from the inside out. It was like the heat had dug its claws into me and was refusing to let go.

And so the pain grew.

The fire became an inferno burning through my veins, burning away coherence, burning away anything except the need to be bred and the painful knowledge that it just wasn't to be like that. And no matter how much water I gulped down it couldn't quench it, couldn't lessen that heat, no matter how much the water spilled onto skin, it seemed to vanish, seemed to be absorbed and consumed by the waves of heat radiating off my body.

It was during flashing moments of lucidity that I reached to plug my ears with Suga's voice, managing to find rest, to find comfort in the way his voice washed over me, the sound of the words mattering more than the meaning itself. I just wanted the voice, just wanted what the low rumbly timbre bought.

Drowning out the way my body restlessly shifted on the bed, tugging at sheets, drawing blankets away because it felt as if the skin was too tight on my body, trapping heat that simmered under it. I tore at the blankets, at times curling beside the window, heated body chasing after the night chill even as my teeth chattered and the sweat on my body cooled with it, bringing shivers that made me tremble.

Yoongi's voice brought me respite between cycles.

Calmed me down as I sobbed and writhed on sheets, drawing me out of the heat that clouded my mind, breath shaky as I unclenched my fingers from around the sheets.

But that aching emptiness I felt amplified. As each day merged and blurred with the next, that ache grew. Empty and alone.

Hollow.

Every instinct that pleaded, sobbed to be taken care of went unheard.

Every need to be cocooned against a warm body, to be enveloped in a hold that was possessive and safe never got fulfilled, lying there without my body being held in an embrace.

Alone.

Painfully so.

The heat seemed to get worse, seemed to grow in intensity and pain as my body cycled through longer periods with that bubbling need to be bred, to be protected for once.

That vulnerability I felt of being in heat heightening because my instincts were recoiling, questioning and welling up with insecurity, with fear that I wasn't worth spending time with, wasn't worth being taken care of. Wasn't worth it. Wasn't desired. Wasn't wanted.

I felt restless. Restless as I shifted on the bed, restless as I moved to chase after comfort that I couldn't get.

Body prickling with jolts, thrumming with restlessness even if every limb was weary and exhausted, even if every part of me was so, so tired.

Medicines coursing through my system but not doing anything, not lessening any ache. Barely managing to push the currents of agony to a low trickle for all but a short period before it swamped me in large crashing tidal waves that slammed into me, a broken faucet that exploded, a dam shattering and crumbling, every emotion merging with each droplet of torment that seeped into my blood.

I lost grip on time and myself. I woke up body bare, naked and curled up. Lost memories of when the pain had exploded across my spine, when it had made me lose my vision for what seemed like a few moments but when I woke I had no recollection how I ended up buried under scented blankets, how I ended up as a small circle near the windowsill. And when I woke with clothes gone, though the memory of tugging on a shirt that smelt like either Binnie or Eunwoo remained fresh in my mind, I realised that during points of unawareness, of being utterly consumed by pain I'd shifted to try and lessen the pain. I'd shifted to give in to instincts. I'd given in because the part of my brain I tried to keep silenced screamed at me, howled and begged and overtook rationality.

I woke up with shaking legs, hips that ached and tensed and calves that jittered with every step I took. I woke trying to slowly uncurl, feeling as if I was stuck in that position until I remembered how a body moved. Remembered how to raise myself on shaking arms, gripping on furniture to draw myself up.

And I woke only for the vicious cycle to begin once more.

When the heat bloomed in my abdomen, when arousal shot through my body it remained coursing and pushing at skin because it was unsatisfied, because it was never fulfilled. Because the throb of needing physical closeness, of needing someone to soothe that longing wasn't satiated even once. Because a period that was meant to be sexually gratifying, was meant to be sharing that vulnerability and intimacy with someone was left as a husk, a drained empty shell.

And when pulsing waves of my scent seeped off my skin, made my mouth stick and clog up with the overpowering sweetness, I remembered my fingers loosening around the pillow I'd burrowed my head into. I remembered the room swimming out of view, the clock at the opposite end ticking away ominously. Ticking down to another consuming cycle of heat.

And I remembered the room fading out of view, blurred behind tears and slipping out of reach, darkness coating my eyes.

------

Stickiness. Dampness. And throbbing.

They were the first things I felt when my eyes fluttered open, shirt rucked above my waist, legs bare. Face rising from where it had curved in.

The second thing I noticed was I was lucid.

Lucid but not in the way I had felt between cycles.

Lucid and coherent as if the heat had finally broken. Hyperawareness of the way my body sunk into the mattress, of the creases of sheets and blankets. Of a face pressed to a damp pillow. Of my feet brushing against fabric when I stretched out.

And when I raised my head slowly I couldn't hear any screaming.

Couldn't hear my instincts howling at me, sobbing for them to be taken care of.

For what felt like forever...for once my mind felt empty. Felt hollow and void of the voice that had plagued it, that had felt like a broken, shattered version of me. Had sounded like a dependent, needy creature whining and thrashing.

But it had gone. The voice had gone.

And my fingers when they brushed against my skin touched warmth. But one infinitely different to the way my temperature had spiked, that feverish clamminess gone.

The heat had broken. Torn out of its cycle. Shorter because I had had no-one. Shorter because my biology had submitted and accepted defeat. Had realised I wouldn't be tended to.

Had pushed me out of that vulnerability.

And though my body throbbed, though I felt an ache in every inch of skin, in every nerve fibre, my lips stretched into a small, relieved smile.

It was over.

It was over. 

This cycling through hell over and over again was over.

I took a few minutes to just lie there.

Lie there as my body settled, as I listened to the quiet ragged sound of my breathing, lungs no longer burning...drawing in slow weak wavers of sticky air. I lay there as my fingers stretched out across sheets, smoothening out the endless creases I found.

Reached for one of the closest blankets, nosing gratefully into the lingering hints of sweet hazelnut and wood, cleansing my nose of that overpowering scent of anise.

And slowly I inched myself upright. Draw myself off the sheets and pillows, painfully slow because my body didn't want to cooperate. Because it was too early for me to be moving around after a heat, especially one as torturous as this, but I was dizzy with my own scent. I was growing nauseous of it, stomach churning the more the floral scent clung to me, clung to each lining of the sheet.

It took far too long for me to be able to draw my legs off the bed, holding onto the bedside table to help draw myself up, ignoring the way my legs jolted and trembled, threatening to give out under me. I stood there, head curved towards the lamp, teeth gritted as I forced myself to remain standing, forced my body to hold on, refusing to give in to the way my body begged for a respite.

It had done nothing for the past countless days. I'd done nothing for days.

And the guilt that began to settle in worsened the knots around my stomach, tight with tension and welling with growing nausea..

Days since I'd gone to the centre, had done work, had taken care of Min-Jun and Ji Ah, heart lurching with blinding panic. Not knowing how they'd been, not knowing if the centre even knew I was away because of heat, because of compulsion. 

Slowly I straighten up. Beginning the long laborious trek around the room to get unscented, clean clothes to tug onto my body. Wincing when just drawing on a pair of shorts took me far longer than it should, muscles screaming in protest when I bent and moved to draw them over my legs, breathing heavily when I stood up.

Skin feeling hot and prickling with discomfort as I reached for a large jumper, sighing with slight relief at the softness, at the way it didn't aggravate my body, didn't cling to it.  But now that the heat had broken I knew my body wouldn't be able to bear the chill still seeping into my room, fingers tugging at it to draw it shut. Shivering at the way it curled around my face, cutting at skin.

Moving at a slow trek to pad towards the door. But not quite able to bring myself to open it. To reach for the handle.

So I turned back around.

Turned to slowly move about and gather up crushed empty water bottles, back twinging whenever I bent to reach for them, discarded across the floor. Moved to draw the sheets off the bed, to fold up the blankets and tug the pillowcase off. Hands lingering and mind torn, not wanting to ruin the nest despite the fact it was messy and rumpled, despite the fact it was askew from where my legs had kicked out at it.

Reach for it regardless. Push myself to dismantle it, heart cracking when I take the first jumper then the next, breath shaky when I draw it away. Neatening the bed, dumping the clothes and sheets into two piles to sort into the laundry. To wash the sickly-sweet floral smell off them.

Wishing not for the first time that I was home. That I had Binnie and Woo with me, that I had them helping me through post-heat. That I had them looking after me.

I felt all drained out. Hand finally reaching for my phone, finally seeing all the notifications from the two, some from the centre before the latest one telling me that I was to come back to work after I was fit to work once more.

I wasn't sure exactly who it was that filed my absence.

Wasn't sure whether it was one of the boys, or whether Eunwoo and Binnie knew.

Winced as I saw the Im pack's messages too. Streams of questions and concerns that had gone unchecked for...five days.

Five days I'd been in heat.

I shoot off a text to the chat, slowly filtering through all of them and responding generally.

Frustrated that the screen kept blurring out of focus, kept swimming in and out, words doubling and tripling.

Biting down on my lip to muffle the sigh, fingers clutching tightly at it.

I knew I was stalling. Knew I was dithering within the very room I wanted to escape from.

Knew I was drawing out my time inside here, not knowing exactly how to face them.

Not sure what to say when I stepped out the room.

The room was aired. The bed was bare, the floor cleared up, the windows shut and the curtains tied back. There was nothing left for me to loiter on.

I tried to muster up courage, braving myself as I moved to the door once more. Reaching for the tray.

Feeling guilt and shame now at rejecting their efforts to help me. I'd truly tried to eat, tried to stomach the food but either a cycle had settled or the scent had made my head swim and stomach twist.

The tray lay untouched once more, spoon in the broth I'd had a few sips of, had nibbled on the edge of some bread. But had been unable to keep myself eating.

Reach out for it and clutched at it as a lifeline, as a buoy keeping me floating as I reach for the door handle. Fingers curling around it, drawing in large breaths of air.

Somehow feeling as if the prison it had seemed for the past five days had now become a sanctuary. Didn't want to step out and see the disappointment there. Didn't want to see the very thoughts rushing through my head.

I shouldn't have forgotten.

Should've been careful.

I'd thrown them all off.

Had caused tension in the pack. Had become a new issue for them to cope with.

Behind me the phone buzzed on the desk, repeatedly.

A constant recurrence of sound. Over and over.

Hammering at my head, pushing at the thoughts and adding chaos to the existing swirl of emotions and thoughts.

I drew the door open.

Opened it to silence.

To quietness.

Opened it to an empty hallway.

This was better, a shuddering breath exhaled as I stepped out, drawing the door shut behind me.

Small careful steps to walk towards the kitchen, tray set down too hard as I leant against the counter, exhausted by the short walk, by the way my legs were trembling and begging for respite.

Were aching and screaming, protesting at the stiffness.

Stayed curled against it for a while.

It felt like I had to peel myself away from the countertop, felt like it was a huge accomplishment to reach the doorway, to walk painstakingly slowly out to the hallway.

It seemed as if this end of the apartment was empty.

Felt as if they were all on the other side.

I didn't know whether that made me feel relieved or sick.

That they hadn't wanted to be close or that they'd chosen to give me space. Plenty of it.

But it also made the walk there stretch out, clamping my mouth shut against the whimpers as pain rippled through my body, legs shaking with exertion, with every step I took. But still I pushed forward, breathing heavy as I moved closer and closer to the other end of the apartment.

A small mercy that the partition was open, stepping through and wincing when the cloud of scents hit me, body and senses still sensitive. Suddenly thrown off with the rapid shift from scentless air to a light one to this. This amalgamation of their scents merging.

I hate that the walk drains me. Gripping the furniture and doorways as I walk forward. One foot after the other.

It felt like I was learning how to walk all over again, feet stumbling and legs jittery, shaking and tensing, locking up on me.

Growing closer and closer to the living room, sweat beading at my temple, breath weak and trembling. My hand shook as I reached out to lean against the wall for support as I moved.

It felt like déjà vu slightly. Reminded me of the first day I'd arrived. When I'd walked over and had introduced myself to them, had apologised for being an inconvenience.

It felt like history was repeating.

I was here again. That need to apologise waiting on the tip of my tongue. But last time I'd had control over my body, I'd walked in knowing I had to.

This time I felt like I was approaching doom. Was approaching the pack and about to collapse.

My head swam as I finally reached the doorway.

Fingers curling around the edge of it, staggering forward, cheeks feeling heated and every muscle burning.

Head swimming with the fog of scents as I entered. Stepped into view, my eyes shifting in and out of focus as I took them all in.

Saw the moment they registered my scent, saw the way their bodies shifted and became alert. Stiffened.

Exhausted as I pushed myself to take the final few steps forward, holding onto one of the armchairs for support as I stood before them.

Saw everything as if in slow motion.

Saw the way their bodies jerked and moved into action. Saw surprise and concern flash in eyes.

Saw the way as some rose. Rising out of seats.

But my eyes caught onto the way that whilst everything seem slowed down, the harsh thrash of a relaxed Jimin bolting upright from against Namjoon.

Saw the way his eyes flashed and a flood of expressions flitted across his face.

Hands curling against Namjoon as he shoved and jerked, pushing himself upright, eyes wide as they took me in, nostrils flaring briefly as he registered my scent, registered the post-heat pheromones. 

"Namjoon move. Let me go. Let me go." His voice is rough and urgent, panicked and writhing with distress that I detect from the metres between us. It's as if every restraint snaps. Every feeling of control disintegrates, crumbling to dust.

And suddenly that slowness vanishes.

The scent of mint. So strong that it's all I can smell. Rich and powerful. Cool as it brushes against my heated, drained body. That same scent that had teased at my sobbing instincts. 

The same scent that I'd always felt come close but never truly able to close the distance. Now that same scent slams into me.

Telling me that it's alright. That he's got me.

The relief that knowledge gives me has my legs buckling, giving up on me as I crumple towards the ground.

And the hands that had been tight and firm against him suddenly fall away when a keening sound is ripped out of plump parted lips.

But I don't quite reach the floor, body caving and folding in on itself, giving up.

But a pair of arms, corded with muscle, firm with strength but so awfully gentle as they cradle me towards him, tuck me close to his chest.

And the whispered shaky promise that brushes against my ear.

"I've got you. I'm not letting go."

And that makes the strength drain out of me. Shaking as I sag against him, hands shaky as I reach to grip at the sides of his shirt.

To reassure myself he's not going anywhere.

His arms tighten. Fierce and unrelenting as he supports me.

Telling me with his touch that he's here to stay.

(AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! SO~ Midiiplier DARLING BABY DON'T CRY....DON'T ATTACK ME, I SWEAR IT WASN'T TO BE LIKE THIS BUT IT JUST TURNED OUT THIS WAY.  SO! LET ME KNOW HOW YOU FOUND THE CHAPTER WHICH WAS BASICALLY JUST THE DURATION OF HER HEAT IN A MASSIVE BLUR...BECAUSE ACCOUNTING FOR EACH DAY WOULD BE LONG AND PAINFUL FOR EVERYONE!! CHARACTERS, READERS AND ME! SO!! THAT WAS HER HEAT...I REALLY HOPE HER PAIN, HER AGONY CAME THROUGH! IF IT DIDN'T THEN...A WASTE. AND!! THE OTHER BOYS TOO! POOR JOON IS JUST EXHAUSTED...HIM AND JINNIE SHOWER WITH WORRY SOMETHING'S GONNA HAPPEN WHEN THEY'RE NOT THERE! YOONIE HATES SUPPRESSANTS BUT HE TAKES THEM SO HE CAN TAKE CARE OF BABY FAWN AND MINNIE AND KOOKIE THROWN INTO RUT CONSTANTLY. MINNIE'S IS LIKE A SERIES OF DAY AS ONE RUT...BECAUSE THAT'S HOW FOXES ARE, BUNNIES HAVE A CONSTANT DAILY NEED SO KOOKIE IS ABLE TO BE MORE COHERENT TOO...BUT KOOKIE'S RUT GOES BOTH WAYS! TO BE TAKEN CARE OF JUST AS MUCH AS IT IS TO TAKE OUT THOSE URGES WITH JIN. LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS MY LOVES!! AHHHHHHHHHHHH! SO MUCH TO HAPPEN NEXT CHAPTER! GAH! SO EXCITED! TAKE CARE AND STAY SAFE LOVES!)

QUESTION....Film Out?! EVERYTHING. JUST *MIND COMBUST*

I'm sobbing, I'm bawling...ugly crying as I keep finding meanings, at how SENSATIONAL AND HAUNTINGLY BEAUTIFUL THE SONG IS! I LOVE IT AND I HAVEN'T STOPPED LISTENING TO IT SINCE!! They keep outdoing THEMSELVES?! Like boys...MY HEART CAN'T TAKE IT.

Borahae! 💜💜💜

PurpleQueenie <3