Chapter Text
The morning sun filtered through the gauzy curtains of their shared apartment, casting golden patterns across the hardwood floor. Kang Yeosang stirred slowly, consciousness returning like honey dripping from a spoon—thick, sweet, and languid. For the first time in weeks, he felt almost... peaceful. The persistent ache that had been his unwelcome companion seemed muted, replaced by an unfamiliar but not unpleasant drowsiness that made him want to burrow deeper into the nest of blankets.
From the kitchen came the familiar symphony of their morning routine: Seonghwa's gentle humming mixing with the rhythmic chopping of vegetables, Hongjoong's quiet murmurs as he reviewed his schedule, and underneath it all, the rich aroma of brewing coffee that usually had Yeosang padding to the kitchen like a moth to flame.
Today, though, something was different. The coffee smell seemed... sharper somehow. More intense. He wrinkled his nose, pulling a pillow over his head with a soft whine that would have been embarrassing if anyone had heard it.
"Sangie?" Wooyoung's voice drifted through the partially open bedroom door, warm with affection. "You planning to hibernate until spring?"
Yeosang smiled despite himself, peeking out from under the pillow. Wooyoung stood in the doorway, already dressed for dance practice, his hair still slightly mussed from sleep. The sight of him sent a familiar flutter through Yeosang's chest—not the sharp, anxious flutter he'd been experiencing lately, but something softer, warmer.
"Maybe," Yeosang admitted, his voice rough with sleep. "It's comfortable here."
Wooyoung's grin was infectious as he bounded over to the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. "Come on, sleepyhead. Hwa made your favorite—those little pancakes with the blueberries."
The mention of food should have had Yeosang's stomach rumbling with interest. Instead, there was a strange little flip, not quite nausea but not quite hunger either. He sat up slowly, blinking against the morning light that seemed oddly bright today.
"Actually," he said, surprising himself, "I think I might just have some toast."
Wooyoung's eyebrows shot up. "Toast? You? The man who once ate an entire stack of Seonghwa's pancakes and then asked if there were more?" He pressed the back of his hand to Yeosang's forehead with exaggerated concern. "No fever. Hmm. Maybe you've been replaced by a pod person."
"Very funny." Yeosang batted his hand away, but he was smiling. "I'm just not that hungry this morning."
What he didn't say was that the thought of those usually beloved blueberry pancakes made his stomach do another strange little twist. It wasn't exactly unpleasant, just... odd. Like his body was suddenly speaking a language he didn't quite understand.
Three days later, Yunho was the first to notice something was definitely off.
"Yeosang," he said slowly, watching as the omega delicately nibbled the corner of a piece of dry toast while the rest of them dug into Mingi's experimental breakfast burritos. "Are you feeling alright?"
"I'm fine," Yeosang replied automatically, then immediately regretted it when seven pairs of concerned eyes turned his way. "I mean, I'm just not that hungry lately. It's probably just the weather changing."
San, who had been quietly observing from across the table, tilted his head. "But you love Mingi's cooking. Last week you said his breakfast burritos were 'a gift from the culinary gods.'"
Mingi beamed at the remembered compliment, then frowned. "Wait, you don't like them anymore?"
The hurt in Mingi's voice made Yeosang's chest tighten with guilt. "No! No, they're amazing, I just..." He looked down at the burrito on his plate, loaded with eggs and cheese and those little green peppers that usually made his mouth water. Today, though, the sight made something uncomfortable shift in his stomach. "I think my appetite's just been weird lately."
Jongho, ever practical, leaned forward. "Weird how?"
"I don't know." Yeosang set down his toast, suddenly feeling like he was under interrogation. "Some things just don't appeal to me right now. It's not a big deal."
But even as he said it, he could see the worried glances being exchanged around the table. In a pack as close as theirs, changes in one member's behavior rarely went unnoticed—or unworried about.
Hongjoong, sitting at the head of the table in his unofficial role as pack leader, studied Yeosang with those sharp eyes that seemed to see everything. "Have you been sleeping okay? You've seemed tired lately."
Yeosang's cheeks warmed. He had been tired—bone-deep, inexplicable exhaustion that made even simple tasks feel monumental. Yesterday, he'd fallen asleep during movie night, curled up against Seonghwa's side while the others finished watching some action film he'd been excited to see.
"Just the usual insomnia," he lied, then felt worse when Seonghwa's hand found his under the table, thumb stroking gently over his knuckles in silent comfort.
The pickle incident happened on a Thursday.
Yeosang had been having another one of those mornings where everything felt slightly off-kilter. The world seemed too bright, too loud, too much. He'd managed half a piece of toast and was contemplating whether tea or water sounded less offensive to his finicky stomach when a scent hit him.
Sharp, briny, absolutely perfect.
He followed his nose to the kitchen, where Wooyoung was making himself a sandwich for lunch. The jar of dill pickles sat open on the counter, and Yeosang felt his mouth water for the first time in days.
"Can I..." He gestured vaguely at the jar, feeling oddly shy about the request.
Wooyoung blinked. "You want a pickle?"
"Maybe just one?"
"Sangie, you hate pickles. Last month you made me brush my teeth after I ate one because you said the smell was 'offensive to your delicate sensibilities.'"
Yeosang flushed, but the craving was strong enough that embarrassment couldn't quite override it. "I know, but they smell really good right now."
Wooyoung stared at him for a long moment, then slowly pushed the jar across the counter. "Okay, but I'm documenting this for posterity." He pulled out his phone, grinning. "For the record, on Thursday, October 15th, Kang Yeosang willingly requested—"
"Don't you dare," Yeosang warned, but he was already reaching for a pickle, his mouth watering as the sharp, sour scent grew stronger.
The first bite was revelatory. Crisp, tangy, perfect in a way that made his eyes flutter closed with genuine pleasure. He finished it quickly and reached for another.
"Okay, now I'm really concerned," Wooyoung said, lowering his phone. "You've eaten two pickles and you're reaching for a third. Should I call a doctor?"
"They're just really good today," Yeosang mumbled around the pickle, but even he had to admit this was strange behavior for him.
The sound of footsteps made them both turn. Seonghwa appeared in the kitchen doorway, still in his pajamas, hair adorably mussed. He took in the scene—Yeosang clutching the pickle jar like a precious treasure, Wooyoung staring in bewildered fascination—and raised an eyebrow.
"What's happening here?"
"Yeosang has been possessed by the spirit of someone who enjoys pickles," Wooyoung announced dramatically. "I fear we may have lost him forever."
Seonghwa's expression softened with fond amusement. "Well, if the pickle spirit makes him happy..." He moved to the coffee maker, then paused. "Oh, that reminds me. I picked up that lavender coffee blend you wanted to try, Sangie."
The mention of coffee—specifically lavender coffee, which had sounded so appealing when he'd asked Seonghwa to buy it—made Yeosang's stomach lurch unpleasantly. He set down the pickle jar, pressing a hand to his mouth as nausea rose swift and unexpected.
"Actually," he managed, voice muffled behind his palm, "maybe not coffee today."
Both alphas turned to look at him with renewed concern. Yeosang refusing coffee was like San refusing cuddles or Hongjoong refusing to reorganize something—it simply didn't happen.
"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" Seonghwa asked gently, abandoning the coffee to move closer. "You've been off your usual routine lately."
"I'm fine," Yeosang insisted, though the lingering nausea made his voice sound thin. "Just... maybe my tastes are changing?"
Wooyoung and Seonghwa exchanged a look over his head, one of those silent alpha communications that Yeosang pretended not to notice but definitely did.
If the pickle incident was strange, what happened the following week was downright alarming.
It started innocuously enough. Yeosang had been curled up in the living room, reading a book while soft music played in the background. Hongjoong was at his desk in the corner, working on something with headphones on, occasionally humming along. The scene was peaceful, domestic, perfect in its quiet normalcy.
Then a commercial came on the television that someone had left running on low volume. Something about puppies needing homes, with soft music and big, sad eyes filling the screen.
Yeosang looked up just as a particularly adorable golden retriever puppy appeared, tail wagging hopefully at the camera. The narrator's voice was gentle but heartbreaking: "Every year, thousands of puppies wait for their forever families..."
The first sob caught him completely off guard.
One moment he was fine, the next he was crying—not just tearing up, but full-on sobbing like his heart was breaking. The book tumbled from his lap as he pressed his hands to his face, overwhelmed by a wave of emotion so intense it took his breath away.
Hongjoong's headphones hit the desk with a clatter as he spun around, immediately alert. "Yeosang? What's wrong?"
"The puppies," Yeosang managed between sobs, gesturing helplessly at the television where the commercial was still playing. "They just want families and they're all alone and—" Another sob cut him off.
Hongjoong's expression cycled through confusion, concern, and something that might have been barely suppressed panic. He crossed to the couch quickly, pulling Yeosang into his arms. "Hey, hey, it's okay. They're just commercials, love. The puppies are fine."
"But what if they're not?" Yeosang sobbed into Hongjoong's shoulder, rationally knowing he was being ridiculous but unable to stop the flood of emotion. "What if nobody wants them?"
"Sangie..." Hongjoong's voice was gentle but bewildered. He rubbed soothing circles on Yeosang's back, looking helplessly toward the kitchen where voices could be heard. "GUYS," he called, loudly enough to be heard but not quite yelling. "I NEED BACKUP."
Within seconds, the rest of the pack had materialized. San took one look at Yeosang sobbing in Hongjoong's arms and immediately moved to his other side, adding his own comforting presence. Seonghwa grabbed the remote to turn off the television while Wooyoung hovered anxiously nearby.
"What happened?" Mingi asked, voice soft with concern.
"Commercial about puppies," Hongjoong explained, still looking baffled. "He just... started crying."
Yunho crouched down in front of them, studying Yeosang's tear-streaked face with gentle worry. "Sangie, talk to us. Are you hurt?"
Yeosang hiccupped, finally getting his sobs under control enough to speak. "I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me. I just saw those puppies and they looked so sad and I couldn't stop crying." He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, feeling embarrassed and confused. "This is so stupid."
"It's not stupid," Seonghwa said firmly, settling on the coffee table so he could reach out and stroke Yeosang's hair. "But it's not like you either. You're usually pretty emotionally steady."
"I know," Yeosang whispered, leaning into the touch. "I feel like I don't know myself lately. Everything seems more intense, more overwhelming."
Jongho, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. "When did this start?"
Yeosang thought about it, trying to pinpoint when the changes had begun. "Maybe a couple weeks ago? It's been gradual."
"Along with the appetite changes and the tiredness," Wooyoung added, settling on the arm of the couch. "And yesterday you cried because you couldn't find your favorite sweater."
"It was in the laundry," San added helpfully. "Clean laundry."
Yeosang flushed. "I wasn't thinking clearly."
"And two days ago you got upset because Mingi finished the last yogurt," Yunho contributed.
"Then bought six more yogurts to make sure it didn't happen again," Mingi added with a fond smile.
As they listed his recent emotional episodes, Yeosang felt increasingly mortified. Put together like that, his behavior did seem erratic and concerning. No wonder they were all looking at him with such worried expressions.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I know I've been... a lot lately."
"Don't apologize," Hongjoong said firmly, arms tightening around him. "We're just worried about you. These kinds of changes... they're not nothing, Sangie."
The pack's concern reached a tipping point when Yeosang fell asleep during dance practice.
It wasn't a quick doze or a moment of rest—he literally curled up in the corner of the practice room and fell into such a deep sleep that it took several minutes and gentle shaking to wake him up. When he finally opened his eyes, he was greeted by seven worried faces staring down at him.
"Okay," Hongjoong said with finality, "that's it. You're seeing a doctor."
Yeosang sat up slowly, still groggy and disoriented. "I'm fine, I was just tired."
"Sangie," San said gently, "you slept for forty-five minutes. During choreo practice. You missed the entire run-through of the bridge section."
The concern in San's voice made Yeosang's chest tighten with guilt. He hated worrying them, hated being the source of stress in their usually harmonious pack dynamic.
"I'll get more sleep tonight," he promised. "And maybe some vitamins or something."
"No," Hongjoong said, using his alpha voice—not harshly, but with enough authority to make it clear this wasn't a discussion. "Doctor. Today."
Yeosang wanted to argue, but the exhaustion was still pulling at him, making even the thought of a fight seem overwhelming. "Fine," he sighed. "But you're all overreacting."
Three hours later, he was sitting in a sterile examination room, feeling somewhat vindicated when the doctor's preliminary examination revealed nothing obviously wrong.
"Blood pressure's normal, temperature's fine," Dr. Kim murmured, making notes on her tablet. "You mentioned fatigue, changes in appetite, emotional sensitivity?"
"It's probably just stress," Yeosang said, shooting a pointed look at Seonghwa, who had insisted on coming with him. "My pack is convinced I'm dying."
Dr. Kim smiled. "Well, let's rule out the obvious things first. I'd like to run some blood work, check your vitamin levels, thyroid function, the usual suspects for fatigue."
The blood draw was routine, and Yeosang felt his anxiety ease as they scheduled a follow-up for the results. See? Nothing dramatic, nothing serious. Just some tests to confirm what he already knew—that he was fine, just tired.
"One more thing," Dr. Kim said as they were preparing to leave. "I know you're a male, but given some of your symptoms... when was your last heat?"
Yeosang paused, mentally calculating. "About nine weeks ago, I think? Maybe eight?"
"And you're sexually active?"
Heat flooded Yeosang's cheeks, but he nodded. In a pack like theirs, with such deep bonds and trust, physical intimacy was a natural part of their relationship dynamic.
Dr. Kim made another note. "Just to be thorough, I'd like to rule out pregnancy as well. It's rare in male omegas, but not unheard of, and some of your symptoms could fit."
The word 'pregnancy' hit Yeosang like a physical blow. He felt Seonghwa go very still beside him, and his own heart began to race.
"That's... that's not possible," he said weakly.
"Probably not," Dr. Kim agreed cheerfully. "But it's an easy test to rule out, and then we can focus on other possibilities. The blood work will tell us everything we need to know."
As they left the clinic, Yeosang felt like he was walking through a dream. Pregnancy. The word echoed in his mind, bringing with it a complex tangle of emotions he couldn't quite untangle.
"Sangie," Seonghwa said gently as they reached the car, "are you okay?"
"Fine," Yeosang said automatically, then caught himself. "I mean, I'm just... processing. Pregnancy wasn't exactly on my radar."
Seonghwa was quiet for a moment, and when Yeosang looked at him, there was something soft and wondering in his expression. "Would it be... terrible? If that's what this is?"
The question hung between them, loaded with possibility and hope and fear. Yeosang thought about it—really thought about it—and was surprised by the warm flutter in his chest that accompanied the mental image of a tiny life growing inside him, created from the love shared between him and his pack.
"No," he said softly, honestly. "I don't think it would be terrible at all."
The next three days were the longest of Yeosang's life.
He tried to act normal, to go about his routine as if the possibility of pregnancy wasn't sitting like a butterfly in his chest—delicate, fluttering, impossible to ignore. But normal felt impossible when everything seemed to carry new significance.
The way Wooyoung brought him ginger tea without being asked when his stomach felt queasy in the morning. The protective way San positioned himself slightly in front of Yeosang when they were out in public, as if he was unconsciously guarding something precious. The gentle way Hongjoong's hands had started to linger on Yeosang's lower back, offering support he didn't know he needed.
Did they suspect? Were they hoping? The not-knowing was driving him slowly insane.
On Wednesday morning, as Yeosang stood in the bathroom splashing cold water on his face after another bout of morning queasiness, he caught his reflection in the mirror. His face was pale, eyes wide with a combination of hope and terror that made his breath catch.
What if he was pregnant? What if he wasn't?
Both possibilities seemed equally overwhelming.
A soft knock on the door interrupted his spiral. "Sangie? You okay in there?"
Wooyoung's voice was gentle, concerned, and Yeosang felt his eyes prick with sudden tears. The emotional volatility was getting worse, if anything. Yesterday he'd cried over a particularly beautiful sunset, and the day before he'd gotten inexplicably angry when someone used the last of the milk.
"I'm fine," he called back, voice only slightly shaky.
The door opened anyway—Wooyoung had never been good at respecting privacy when he was worried—and he appeared in the mirror behind Yeosang, brow furrowed with concern.
"You look pale," Wooyoung observed, moving closer to press the back of his hand to Yeosang's forehead. "And you're warm. Are you getting sick?"
The innocent concern in Wooyoung's voice made Yeosang's heart clench. "I don't think I'm sick," he said quietly.
"Then what—" Wooyoung stopped, eyes widening slightly as understanding dawned. "Oh. Oh, Sangie, the test results."
Yeosang nodded, unable to trust his voice.
Wooyoung's expression softened, and he wrapped his arms around Yeosang from behind, meeting his eyes in the mirror. "Whatever the results are, we'll handle it together. You know that, right?"
The certainty in his voice, the absolute faith and love, made the tears Yeosang had been holding back finally spill over. "What if I'm not ready?" he whispered.
"Then we'll figure it out," Wooyoung said simply. "What if you are?"
Yeosang leaned back against Wooyoung's solid warmth, letting himself imagine for a moment. A baby. Their baby. Tiny hands and sleepy sighs and the scent of milk and contentment. The image made something warm and protective unfurl in his chest.
"Then we'll figure that out too," he said softly.
The call came at 2:47 PM on a Thursday, just as Yeosang was starting to convince himself that no news was good news.
He stared at his phone screen, Dr. Kim's name flashing insistently, and felt his heart begin to race. Around him, the apartment was unusually quiet—most of the others were out at various schedules, leaving only him and Seonghwa, who was reading on the couch nearby.
"Answer it," Seonghwa said gently, looking up from his book.
Yeosang's hand trembled as he swiped to accept the call. "Hello?"
"Yeosang? This is Dr. Kim. I have your test results."
"Okay." His voice came out as barely more than a whisper.
"The good news is that all your vitamin levels are normal, and your thyroid function is perfect. No issues there."
Relief and disappointment warred in his chest. "So what's causing the symptoms?"
There was a pause, and Yeosang's heart nearly stopped.
"Well," Dr. Kim said, and he could hear the smile in her voice, "it appears congratulations are in order. You're pregnant, Yeosang. About seven weeks along, from what the blood work indicates."
The phone nearly slipped from his nerveless fingers. Pregnant. He was pregnant.
"Are you sure?" he managed.
"Quite sure. The hormone levels are unmistakable. You'll want to schedule a follow-up appointment, and I'll refer you to an OB who specializes in male omega pregnancies, but yes. You're definitely pregnant."
Yeosang sank onto the nearest chair, legs suddenly unable to support him. "I... thank you. I'll call back to schedule."
"Congratulations again," Dr. Kim said warmly. "Take care of yourself."
The call ended, and Yeosang stared at his phone in stunned silence. Pregnant. There was a life growing inside him, a tiny being created from love and trust and the deep bonds of his pack.
"Sangie?" Seonghwa's voice seemed to come from very far away. "What did she say?"
Yeosang looked up to find Seonghwa watching him with intense concern, and the words tumbled out in a rush. "I'm pregnant."
The book fell from Seonghwa's hands, hitting the floor with a soft thud. For a moment, neither of them moved, the weight of the revelation settling between them like something precious and fragile.
Then Seonghwa was moving, crossing to Yeosang in three quick strides and dropping to his knees beside the chair. His hands came up to frame Yeosang's face, thumbs brushing gently over his cheeks.
"Really?" Seonghwa whispered, eyes bright with wonder.
Yeosang nodded, his own eyes filling with tears—but these were different from the emotional outbursts of the past weeks. These were tears of joy, of awe, of overwhelming love for the tiny life he was carrying and the man kneeling before him.
"We're going to have a baby," he breathed.
Seonghwa's smile was radiant, transforming his entire face. "We're going to have a baby," he repeated, voice thick with emotion. Then, more softly: "Our baby."
He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Yeosang's, and for a moment they just breathed together, sharing the magnitude of the moment.
They decided to wait until everyone was home to share the news. The anticipation was killing Yeosang—he felt like the secret was written across his face, obvious to anyone who looked closely enough. Every time one of his packmates smiled at him or asked how he was feeling, he wanted to blurt out the truth.
Seonghwa, bless him, was a steady presence at his side, occasionally reaching out to squeeze his hand or brush his fingers along Yeosang's arm in silent support. The alpha's eyes kept drifting to Yeosang's still-flat stomach with an expression of such tender awe that it made Yeosang's heart flutter.
By dinner time, everyone had trickled back home. Yeosang sat at their large dining table, pushing food around on his plate and trying to look normal while his stomach churned with nerves rather than morning sickness for once.
"Okay," Wooyoung said suddenly, setting down his chopsticks with a decisive click. "You're being weird. Both of you." His gaze flicked between Yeosang and Seonghwa. "And don't try to deny it. Seonghwa keeps smiling at nothing, and Yeosang looks like he's about to vibrate out of his skin."
"Maybe they finally talked about their feelings," San suggested with a grin. "You know how alphas and omegas can be. All that emotional constipation."
"You're an alpha...." Jongho said deadpanned
"We talk about our feelings plenty," Seonghwa protested mildly, but his hand found Yeosang's under the table, intertwining their fingers.
Hongjoong, ever perceptive, leaned forward with that sharp, analyzing look that meant he was putting pieces together. "Did you get your test results back?"
The question hung in the air, and Yeosang felt all eyes turn to him. His cheeks warmed under the collective attention of his pack, these seven people who meant everything to him and who were about to become something even more precious.
"I did," he said quietly.
"And?" Yunho prompted gently when Yeosang didn't continue.
Yeosang looked around the table, taking in each beloved face. Hongjoong with his sharp intelligence and fierce protectiveness. Seonghwa beside him, still glowing with joy. Wooyoung bouncing slightly in his seat with barely contained energy. San watching with gentle concern. Yunho tall and steady and kind. Mingi with his warm smile and big heart. Jongho, the baby of their pack who wasn't going to be the baby much longer.
"I'm pregnant," he said simply.
The silence that followed was deafening. For a heartbeat, nobody moved, nobody breathed.
Then chaos erupted.
"WHAT?!" Wooyoung shrieked, nearly falling out of his chair.
"Oh my god," San breathed, hands flying to his mouth.
"Are you serious?" Mingi asked, eyes wide as saucers.
"How far along?" came from Yunho.
Jongho just stared, mouth open in shock.
But it was Hongjoong's reaction that made Yeosang's breath catch. The pack leader's face cycled through surprise, wonder, and then something so profoundly tender that it made Yeosang's eyes water. Slowly, Hongjoong rose from his chair and moved around the table, never breaking eye contact.
"May I?" he asked softly when he reached Yeosang, hands hovering near his waist.
Yeosang nodded, not trusting his voice, and Hongjoong's hands settled gently on either side of his stomach. The touch was reverent, protective, full of awe for the tiny life growing beneath his palms.
"Our baby," Hongjoong whispered, and the possessiveness in his voice sent warmth flooding through Yeosang's entire body.
That seemed to break the spell holding the others frozen. Suddenly Yeosang was surrounded, gentle hands touching his shoulders, his face, his hair. Wooyoung was crying—actual tears streaming down his cheeks as he pressed kiss after kiss to Yeosang's temple. San was making soft, overwhelmed sounds, while Yunho kept repeating "We're going to be fathers" in tones of increasing wonder.
"Seven weeks," Yeosang managed to answer Yunho's earlier question. "The doctor says everything looks normal so far."
"Seven weeks," Mingi repeated, as if testing the words. "There's been a baby this whole time."
"While we've been worrying about him being sick," Jongho added, finally finding his voice. "He was just growing our baby."
*Our baby.* The possessive plural made something warm and safe settle in Yeosang's chest. Not his baby, but theirs. All of theirs. A child born from the love of the entire pack, who would be cherished and protected by eight parents instead of just two.
"Are you happy?" he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it. "I know we never really talked about children, and the timing isn't exactly planned—"
"Happy?" San interrupted, voice thick with emotion. "Sangie, I'm so happy I can barely breathe."
"We're going to be dads," Wooyoung said again, wonder clear in his voice. "All of us. We're going to have a baby."
"Are you okay, though?" Yunho asked, practical even in his joy. "How are you feeling? Do you need anything? Should you be sitting down? Are you sitting down enough?"
Yeosang laughed, the sound bright and free in a way it hadn't been for weeks. "I'm fine. Better than fine, actually. Everything makes sense now—the tiredness, the weird food cravings, the crying at commercials."
"The pickles," Wooyoung said with sudden understanding. "Oh my god, the pickles."
"Pregnancy cravings," Seonghwa confirmed, grinning. "I should have realized."
"None of us realized," Hongjoong said, his hands still resting protectively on Yeosang's stomach. "But we're going to take such good care of both of you. The best care."
The love in his voice, in all their voices, made Yeosang feel like the luckiest omega in the world. This baby would want for nothing—not love, not protection, not family. They would be surrounded by eight people who already loved them beyond measure, before they were even born.
"I love you," he whispered, the words meant for all of them. "I love you all so much."
"We love you too," came the chorus of responses, and Yeosang closed his eyes, letting himself be surrounded by the warmth and safety of his pack's love.
Their baby was going to be so incredibly loved.
The alarm clock blared at 6 AM sharp, just like it had that morning weeks ago that had started this whole journey. But everything was different now.
Yeosang stirred slowly, consciousness returning in gentle waves rather than the sluggish confusion that had characterized his early pregnancy symptoms. The persistent nausea had faded, replaced by a different kind of awareness—a constant, warm presence in his belly that made him smile even before he was fully awake.
Strong arms tightened around him, and he found himself pressed against Seonghwa's chest, the alpha's steady heartbeat a comforting rhythm beneath his ear. On his other side, Wooyoung was sprawled across the bed, one arm flung over both of them in a possessive embrace even in sleep.
The apartment was already stirring with quiet morning sounds. From the kitchen came the gentle clink of dishes and the rich aroma of brewing coffee—though thankfully, his relationship with coffee had returned to normal after those first difficult weeks. Hongjoong's low voice drifted down the hall, probably reviewing the day's schedule with whoever else was awake.
But this morning, Yeosang felt no urgency to join them. Instead, he let his hand drift down to rest on the small but definite curve of his belly, marveling at how much everything had changed. At fourteen weeks along, the pregnancy was becoming real in ways that went beyond morning sickness and emotional volatility.
They had pictures now—grainy ultrasound images that had made the entire pack cry when Dr. Chen had pointed out the tiny, perfect form of their baby. They had a due date circled on the calendar. They had started talking about names and nursery colors and who would take the night shift when the baby arrived.
Most importantly, they had hope. Pure, bright, overwhelming hope for the future they were building together.
"Good morning, little one," Yeosang whispered to his belly, the daily ritual that had become as natural as breathing. "Ready to start another day?"
As if in response, Seonghwa stirred beside him, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of his head. "How are you feeling today?" he murmured, voice rough with sleep but immediately alert in that way alphas got when their omegas needed attention.
"Perfect," Yeosang replied, and meant it. "Absolutely perfect."