Chapter Text
It starts small, barely noticeable. As this type of issue usually does.
Naps, every single day, for hours at a time.
Seungmin has never been the napping type, in all honesty. He likes spending his day productively, either bonding with his pack—and by bonding I mean getting on their nerves—or working. He’s a designer, so he works mostly from home.
He has a studio that Chan and Hyunjin built for him in the attic, with the help of Minho of course, who claimed he’d never do such a thing for ‘an inconveniencing omega like you’ per his words. Despite the fact that he got started on it as soon as they finished laying out the blueprints.
The others helped as well, but those three had been most efficient about getting it done.
It was his gift for his anniversary of when he joined the pack. They claimed it was so he no longer had to drive across town—to his rented studio in the middle of nowhere—to work. But Seungmin thinks its because out of all of them, he was always gone the most for his job, due to the travel distance. And god knows the eight of them have to be right on top of each other, or life just feels incorrect.
Seungmin only had a couple of areas to sit for the first couple years of having his studio—despite being the only omega in the pack. Odd enough, he likely nests the least despite what most would deem appropriate for him. Truthfully. Seungmin prefers to just be on top of the others: In their beds, in their bubbles, and in their clothes rather than having their items scattered all over his spaces, making a mess.
Seungmin likes his areas tidy, his bedroom as well as his studio. It has to be that way, which is why they’ve designated sundays for off days, so they can clean and have pack time. Still, somehow, when he started sleeping an extra 6 hours a day—skipping showers to rest, leaving everything everywhere and bratting to his pack about their house being messy—he stops picking up nearly as often as he used to.
It’s only one night at dinner when Seungmin gags at something his favorite person has made for the first time in forever, that he and his lovers notice something is terribly wrong.
There are odd looks from everyone across the table when Seungmin starts actively wrenching at the smell of fish of all things. Chan makes quick work of getting up from the table, pulling Seungmin from his seat and walking him to the kitchen so he can stand over the sink. It doesn’t help though, because as much of the smell that is removed from the dish which was sitting right in front of him, the scent is even stronger in the area that the fish had been prepped.
“Oh god, that’s so much worse!” Seungmin rushes from the kitchen, bolting through the house to the nearest bathroom, which is somewhere down the hallway. The rest of the kids make odd faces at each other as faint sounds of wrenching fills the now silent hallways. Minho is the first to speak on it.
“He’s gagging at my cooking?” he questions, Jisung, who was actively plopping pieces of the fish Seungmin can’t stand onto his plate. “Guess so, what’s up with that?”
The pack looks around at one another, clueless, oblivious.
Chan approaches the table again, his arms crossing over his chest as he surveys the table with a pinched, questioning expression of concern on his face.
“Nobody poisoned Minnie, right?” He tries, but the table all give varying shakes of the head and denying gestures. “Come to think of it, he’s looked a little out of it at the end of the day the past couple of weeks during dinner. Maybe it’s a stomach bug or something?” Jeongin tries, scooping supper from the huge salad bowl on the table onto his plate.
“No way, he’s eaten like 6 times every day lately. It’s scary.” Minho adds, dropping his fork and pushing away from the table, he grabs a water bottle from the fridge and treks after the omega silently, Chan right behind him. “Something is up.” Jisung and Jeongin watch with round eyes and raised eyebrows as they turn the corner to the bathroom, Hyunjin and Chan waiting outside.
“Seungmo, what’s going on?”
Minho enters the bathroom first, jumping straight into caretaker mode at the scent of his distressed omega, rotten cinnamon sugar making him hold his breath. Lest his alpha start acting up. He doesn’t recoil at the sight of the omega bent over the toilet, only rubs his back softly, removing him by gently scooping his arms under Seungmin’s and leaning him on the wall. He then moves to lower the toilet top, flushing the bowl before grabbing a towel and wetting it with cool water.
Seungmin whimpers, curled in on himself against the wall. Even like this, shaky and nauseous, he tries to cooperate—lifting his face when Minho kneels in front of him.
Minho gathers him against himself in carefully, drawing the omega to his chest, one arm solid around his back. He cups Seungmin’s chin with gentle fingers, steadying him while he wipes his face clean.
“I don’t know,” Seungmin murmurs hoarsely. “I feel like shit.”
Minho huffs a quiet laugh, reaching behind him for the water bottle. He twists the cap off and tips it carefully to Seungmin’s lips. “Yeah. We noticed. You’ve been acting weird for weeks.” A pause, then, dry as ever, “It’s been a real inconvenience. Hope you’re aware.”
Seungmin manages a weak smile around the bottle, swallowing slowly. Warm, familiar pheromones drift in from the doorway—comforting, affectionate, grounding.
“Easy,” Minho murmurs, glancing up just in time to catch Hyunjin, Chan, and Changbin scrambling to shove their phones out of sight under the weight of his unimpressed, feline stare.
They inch inside one by one, careful not to overwhelm their omega, worry clouding want.
“Minnie, what’s wrong?” Hyunjin pouts, caramel apple scent sharp with anxiety. “You usually love Minho’s fish.”
“Oh god—don’t say the name,” Seungmin whines, turning his face into Minho’s chest, nuzzling instinctively toward dark chocolate comfort. Minho exhales softly, pushing out calming pheromones as his free hand comes up to Seungmin’s forehead, checking for heat. He guides him closer, cradling the omega’s slumped body against his own, thumb brushing along his jaw as he wipes his face clean.
His hand drifts—slow, absent-minded—down Seungmin’s side.
And stops.
Completely.
Minho’s fingers rest just beneath Seungmin’s ribs, where his stomach should still be flat—soft, familiar. This isn’t. His breath catches.
He swallows.
“Min?” Chan says quietly.
Minho doesn’t answer. He adjusts Seungmin carefully, easing him back against his chest so he can look properly. When he lifts the hem of Seungmin’s shirt, Seungmin whines, weak and confused, but Minho hushes him instinctively.
There—rounding and unmistakable beneath the material—is a swell that hadn’t been there three weeks ago.
Hyunjin’s breath leaves him in a sharp, broken sound, hand flying to his mouth like he’s afraid of what he’s thinking.
Changbin’s scent spikes—sudden, sharp, almost metallic—his body going rigid.
Chan doesn’t move at all.
No gasp. No curse. No question.
Just a slow, dawning stillness, like the floor has dropped out from under him.
The silence stretches—thick, unbearable.
Then Felix appears in the doorway.
He takes one look.
Stops.
His eyes flick from Minho’s hand, to Seungmin’s stomach, to Seungmin’s face—and something in him softens, wonder breaking through before anyone can stop it.
“Oh,” he whispers.
The word lands like a fault line cracking open.
“…Minnie’s pregnant.”
There’s another moment of silence, before clambering can be heard from the dining room.
“Annoying alpha, what are you on about?” Seungmin groans. Jisung and Jeongin join them, red velvet and shea butter bloom into the pack pheromones blending in the crowded bathroom, the air thick with emotion as the pair look past their mates. They catch sight of their omegas swelling stomach, a vast difference from the tiny middle they’re used to.
“Okay—wait wait wait, now. Let’s not jump to conclusions boys.” Chan glances around at the rest of the pack, hands up in calming gestures before he turns, giving his attention back to their omega.
“Seungmin,” Chan says softly, voice careful in that familiar, head alpha way. “Sweetheart. How long have you been feeling… off?”
He kneels beside Minho, close enough to brush Seungmin’s bangs back from his damp forehead. The omega looks wrecked—flushed, glassy-eyed, lip jutted out in a pout—and Chan’s chest tightens painfully at the sight.
“Like…” Seungmin swallows, blinking hard. “Like a month.” His voice cracks despite his efforts, and the room shifts around him.
Jisung’s head snaps up. Felix’s eyes widen, the two of them locking gazes like they’ve just reached the same terrible answer at the same time.
“A month?” Jisung repeats, too quiet. Too sharp. Then, hesitant—almost afraid of the words;
“Wasn’t his last heat… a month ago?” The air goes dead.
Not silence—pressure.
Felix nods slowly. Changbin does too, jaw clenched, breath held.
No one looks at Seungmin now.
They’re all looking at each other—at Minho’s frozen hand, at the unmistakable shape beneath Seungmin’s shirt.
Chan turns his head, eyes moving from face to face.
One by one, understanding clicks into place.
And when it does, it hits all at once—and Minho is the one who speaks it into existence.
“Fuck,” he breathes. Then, louder, steadier. “Boys… I think we’re gonna have a pup.”
The room explodes.
Cheers, yelling, bodies moving everywhere at once—a chaotic storm of sound and scent and joy. Even Minho lights up, grin splitting his face as he rocks where he’s kneeling, Seungmin cradled safely against his chest. One hand pumps in the air. The other stays firm at Seungmin’s hip, grounding, protective.
Jisung and Felix jump and collide, laughing, hugging each other like idiots. The rest of them bounce from mate to mate, voices overlapping, excitement spiraling higher and higher like they’ve just won the fucking lottery.
Seungmin pouts into Minho’s chest at the noise. No one notices. They’re too busy planning, shouting, dreaming out loud.
The excitement doesn’t fade—it multiplies.
Talk of doctor’s appointments. Who’s going to which ones. Where the baby’s room will be. What needs to be changed, moved, built.
And quietly, beneath it all, Seungmin’s chest tightens.
His fingers curl into Minho’s shirt, gripping the fabric like a lifeline. The room feels too small. The air too thick. His skin prickles, damp with heat and scent and sound.
His pack is too loud.
“Okay..” he says softly once, but his words go unheard, and suddenly anger Seungmin rarely experiences coils aggressive in his chest.
“Okay, shut the fuck up!”
The words snap through the room like a cracked whip.
Everyone freezes, all eyes on their omega.
Seungmin’s chest heaves, eyes bright and furious in a way none of them are used to seeing. “You’re loud. You smell. You’re all talking at once and I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my own skin, so shut the fuck up, and just stop.”
Silence. Total, immediate. Nobody moves until Seungmin speaks again.
“I’m tired, you can play with each others assholes as much as you want later as long as you get the fuck out of my face!”
Out of character, aggressive, unseen, sure. But all these things are to be expected. Seungmin’s pregnant for crying out loud, and no matter how off the behavior might seem—in his state—it is perfectly sensible.
Timidly, Chan ducks his head, smiling. He laughs—soft, fond, utterly guilty. “Yes sir. Sorry.” He bends back down in front of Seungmin, stroking his cheek softly. He then looks to Minho, a silent request to take their omega into his own hands.
Minho nods, gently tugging Seungmin’s hand from his shirt, coaxing him to lean the other way where Chan is waiting to scoop him into strong arms. Seungmin goes willingly, swaying as he transfers his weight from one alpha to the other, and his body is lifted effortlessly from the bathroom floor.
He grins wide and warm as Seungmin huffs, still bristling. “Pregnant,” Chan murmurs to the others, like it explains everything.
It does.
The others quietly scramble out of the door to give Chan room to make it into the hallway. Seungmin leans on strong shoulders silently, supported, content as their mates scramble behind them, excitement once again threatening to spike their volume and rowdy nature before they even make it upstairs to the bedrooms.
Minho steps between Chan and the pack, holding a firm finger to his lips to remind them to control their volume before they can go and stress their poor omega again.
“Hyung, is he gonna be all pouty like that everyday? So cute.” Lix tries, peeking past the older man to where Chan has stopped and turned to look at them, waiting for them to keep following. “His baby bump is so adorable!” Jisung adds before the second eldest can answer.
“Of course he is, he’s pregnant! He’ll probably be crying every day too.” Jeongin teases. Changbin nods next to him. ‘I’d like to see that.” The pack giggles for only a moment, Minho shaking his head as he silences them again. “Shut up, you idiots. He’s not gonna do anything but yell at us if you make his attitude worse. Don’t help so I don’t have to add your bones to my next soup recipe.”
Someone grabs Seungmin’s discarded hoodie from the floor. Someone else flicks off the light. The door is pulled shut behind them with careful quiet, the house suddenly calmer—still buzzing, but restrained.
Chan carries Seungmin easily, one arm hooked beneath his thighs, the other firm around his back. Seungmin sags into him almost immediately, the sharp edge of his anger dulling into something heavy and tired. He presses his face into Chan’s neck, breathing in rainstorms and home, his fingers curling weakly in the collar of Chan’s shirt.
“Sorry,” he mutters, voice small now, muffled against skin.
Chan hums, amused and endlessly fond. “Don’t be.” He presses a kiss to Seungmin’s temple. “That was kind of hot.”
Seungmin snorts despite himself, then huffs, eyes slipping shut as Chan climbs the stairs. Behind them, the pack follows like ducklings—quiet, attentive, very obviously trying not to fuck this up again.
Minho brings up the rear, herding them with pointed looks and soft clicks of his tongue. Felix is already whispering about snacks. Jisung nods along, solemn, like he’s been entrusted with a sacred quest.
Changbin veers off toward the kitchen, muttering something about soup and crackers. Hyunjin disappears into the laundry room and reappears with the softest blanket they own.
Chan nudges open the bedroom door with his foot and carries Seungmin straight to the bed, settling him down carefully against the pillows. Seungmin whines quietly when he’s released, hands reaching out instinctively until Chan’s there again, grounding him with a palm to his side.
“There you go,” Chan murmurs. “Safe. Quiet.”
Minho steps in next, shooing the rest of them with sharp little gestures. “Okay, sit and scent, gently, or get out.”
They obey instantly.
The bed slowly fills, bodies arranging themselves around Seungmin without crowding him. Minho settles at his back, solid and warm. Chan stays close at his front, one arm draped protectively over Seungmin’s middle, thumb rubbing slow circles over fabric like he can already feel what’s growing there. Hyunjin drapes the blanket over all of them, careful and reverent.
Seungmin melts.
The tension drains out of him all at once, exhaustion crashing in now that he’s no longer holding himself together. His breathing evens out, lashes fluttering as he sinks deeper into the mattress, cocooned in scent and warmth and the steady presence of his pack.
By the time Felix tiptoes back in with a handful of pregnancy tests and an armful of snacks, Seungmin is already asleep, mouth parted slightly, one hand resting unconsciously over his stomach.
No one says a word.
And downstairs, forgotten on the table, Minho’s fish goes cold.