Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Night came, but peace didn’t.

Saebyok sat wide-eyed on the couch, legs swinging, ears flicking at every sound—the hum of the refrigerator, the distant car outside, Sehun’s soft breathing. Yoongi

lay half-slumped beside her, one arm draped protectively around his son, exhaustion etched into every line of his face.
“Saebyok,” he murmured gently, “it’s night. Appa needs you to sleep.”

She shook her head immediately, ears bouncing. “Not sleepy.”

Of course you aren’t, Yoongi thought tiredly.

When he finally managed to tuck Sehun into his crib, Saebyok had already slipped off the bed again, padding down the hallway on silent feet. Yoongi caught her just before she reached the door, lifting her up with a sigh.

“You’re going to give Appa a heart attack one day,” he muttered, pressing his forehead to hers.

She only giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck, ears twitching happily.

By the time Saebyok finally dozed off—curled against his chest as if she ran on borrowed energy—Yoongi barely had the strength to move. He stayed there, awake long after, watching her ears rise and fall with each breath, wondering how he was supposed to teach her control when he barely understood it himself.
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Morning came too fast.

Yoongi stood in front of the mirror, tying his tie with one hand while bouncing Sehun on his hip. Saebyok sat on the bed behind him, watching intently, her ears perked.

“Appa work?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said softly. “But you’ll be with Jungkookie samchon today, okay?”

Right on cue, there was a knock.
Jungkook stepped in, laptop bag slung over his shoulder, hair still slightly damp. “Hyung,” he greeted easily, eyes softening when he saw the kids. “Rough night?”
Yoongi let out a dry laugh. “You have no idea.”

Jungkook crouched immediately in front of Saebyok. “Morning, Saebyok-ah.”

She blinked at him, then smiled, ears flicking. Jungkook didn’t react—not even a second glance. He already knew. He always had.

Yoongi hesitated for half a second, then nodded, relief washing over him. “Thank you, Jungkook. Really.”

Jungkook smiled, adjusting Sehun in his arms. “Go, hyung. I’ve got your little wolves.”

Yoongi paused at the door, looking back once more—at Saebyok tugging on Jungkook’s sleeve, at Sehun already drifting asleep again—and then he left, unaware that today was the day his carefully balanced world would begin to shift.

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The office was unusually loud that morning—keyboards clicking, chairs rolling, someone laughing too loudly near the pantry. Yoongi had just settled into his chair when Hoseok’s voice carried across the floor.

“Everyone, my office. Now.”

A collective groan rippled through the team, but Yoongi pushed his chair back and stood, following the others. As they gathered, his eyes drifted automatically to where Hoseok was standing—and then stopped.

There was a man beside him.
Big.
Tall.
Broad in a way that made the space around him feel… smaller.

Yoongi’s gaze snagged first on the arms. The sleeves of the man’s shirt looked like they were barely holding on, stretched tight over solid muscle. For a strange second, Yoongi wondered if the fabric might actually give up. He swallowed and quickly looked up.

That was when the man smiled.

Dimples.

Deep ones—softening a face that otherwise looked strong, confident, almost intimidating. The smile was warm, easy, like he belonged there already. Yoongi felt something odd twist in his chest, unfamiliar and uninvited.

What is wrong with me?

He forced himself to look away, but his attention kept drifting back, traitorous. He listened vaguely as Hoseok started speaking.
“We’ve got someone new joining the team—”

The man nodded at them, still smiling, eyes scanning the group. For just a moment, his gaze met Yoongi’s.

Yoongi’s breath hitched.

He didn’t know why. He didn’t know the man. He didn’t even know his name yet. And still—something about him felt grounding. Heavy. Like standing too close to a
fire you didn’t realize you were cold for.

Yoongi frowned slightly, unsettled by his own thoughts.

He had children to think about. A life already full. Exhausting. Complicated.

So why was he admiring a stranger’s smile?

Hoseok cleared his throat, clapping his hands once to get everyone’s attention.
“This is Kim Namjoon,” he said, gesturing to the man beside him.

“He’s transferred from our Seoul branch and will be with us for a year.”

Namjoon stepped forward slightly, posture relaxed but confident. “Nice to meet you all,” he said, voice deep and steady. “I’m in the finance department. I hope we’ll work well together.”

Yoongi watched as Namjoon gave a small bow, polite and professional, dimples appearing again when a few people smiled back. There was something practiced about him—like he knew exactly how much of himself to show.

“Alright,” Hoseok continued, already moving on. “Let’s get back to work.”

The group began to break apart, people turning toward their cubicles, conversations resuming in low murmurs. Chairs rolled, footsteps scattered.
Yoongi walked back to his desk, telling himself—firmly—not to look back.

He failed.

Namjoon was heading in the opposite direction, sleeves still stretched tight, shoulders broad, presence lingering even as he moved away. For just a moment, he glanced over his shoulder, eyes meeting Yoongi’s again.

This time, Namjoon didn’t smile.

His expression was curious. Focused. As if he’d noticed something too.

Yoongi quickly sat down, heart beating a little faster than it should have, and stared at his screen.

Get it together, Min Yoongi, he thought.

But the name Kim Namjoon stayed with him long after the office settled back into routine.

The days passed quietly—almost deceptively so.

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At work, Yoongi and Namjoon spoke only when necessary. Always polite. Always careful.

“Yoongi-ssi, could you review this report?”
“Yes, Namjoon-ssi.”

Their conversations never lingered. No personal questions. No smiles held too long. Still, Yoongi found himself aware of Namjoon in ways he couldn’t explain—the steady presence across the floor, the calm voice during meetings, the way Namjoon never seemed rushed no matter how heavy the workload.

At home, there was no such calm.

Saebyok woke before sunrise most days, crawling into Yoongi’s bed with cold feet and ears twitching wildly. By the time the sky even hinted at light, she was already running circles around the couch, down the hallway, back again.

“Saebyok-ah,” Yoongi groaned one morning, face buried in his pillow. “Appa is begging you. Please.”

She climbed onto his back instead, laughing, ears flicking with delight.

Sehun, meanwhile, was in a phase of constant clinginess. If Yoongi set him down for even a second, the boy’s lip trembled, eyes filling instantly. Jungkook helped when he could—balancing work calls with bottles, diaper changes, and gently redirecting Saebyok when she got too wild.

“She’s going to run through a wall one day,” Jungkook muttered as Saebyok zoomed past him for the third time in a row.
Yoongi sighed. “She doesn’t sleep. Jungkook. She doesn’t get tired.”

That night, Yoongi stayed up watching videos again—werewolf childhood development, ear manifestation stages, control techniques. Most of them assumed wolf parents. Alpha guidance. Pack environments.

None of them talked about a human doing this alone.

Back at work, Namjoon noticed things.

Yoongi’s exhaustion. The way his shoulders slumped more each day. The faint scent of wolf that clung to him—not strong, but unmistakable to an alpha. Not adult. Young.

Namjoon frowned at his screen more often than not.

On the third day, they ended up at the coffee machine at the same time.

“Rough week?” Namjoon asked, tone neutral, respectful.

Yoongi blinked, surprised. “Ah—yes. Kids.”

Namjoon’s eyes softened just a fraction. “I see.”

That was all. No follow-up. No prying.

Still, when Namjoon walked away, Yoongi felt oddly seen.

At home that night, Saebyok finally fell asleep on the couch—head in Yoongi’s lap, ears relaxed for once. Yoongi didn’t move for a long time, afraid waking her would start the cycle all over again.

He stared at the ceiling, thinking about control. About guidance. About how Seunghee had always known what to do.

Somewhere downtown, Kim Namjoon washed his hands in a quiet bathroom, ears flicking briefly before he forced them away, unaware that in a few more days, those two worlds were going to collide.
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Office hours were over by the time Yoongi stepped into the restroom. The floor was quiet now, lights dimmed to their evening setting, the hum of the building settling into something almost peaceful.

He was just about to finish when he heard footsteps.

Slow. Unhurried.

And then—humming.

Yoongi froze for a second, recognizing the tune without meaning to. It was soft, absentminded, like the person wasn’t even aware they were doing it.

Namjoon.

Yoongi frowned slightly, heart picking up in a way that annoyed him. He didn’t understand why his pulse always sped up when Namjoon was nearby, why his senses felt sharpened even though he was human. He shook the thought away, flushed, and pushed the stall door open.

He stopped.

Completely.

Namjoon stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up, water running over his hands. He had AirPods in, head slightly tilted as if still listening to music.
And on his head—

Ears.

Large. Wolf. Fully out.

Yoongi’s breath caught in his throat. His mind went blank, then flooded all at once—books, videos, late-night research, Saebyok’s twitching ears, Seunghee’s quiet explanations from years ago.

Namjoon hadn’t noticed yet.

He finished washing his hands and lifted his head to the mirror.

The scream that tore out of him was sharp and panicked, echoing in the empty restroom. He staggered back a step, hands flying up to his head.
“No—no, no, no—”

His eyes were wide, pupils blown, fear raw and unfiltered. He shook his head hard, instinct taking over, ears vanishing as quickly as they’d appeared.

For a split second, he stood there, chest heaving.

Then he turned and bolted—out the door, down the hall—gone before Yoongi could even find his voice.

The restroom fell silent again.

Yoongi stood frozen, heart pounding, staring at the mirror where Namjoon had been moments earlier.

Kim Namjoon was a werewolf.

And he was terrified.

And somehow—somehow—Yoongi already knew this wasn’t going to end quietly.

Yoongi didn’t sleep that night.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Namjoon’s reflection again in the mirror, the shock on his face, the pure panic. The way he’d run, like prey instead of the calm, composed man Yoongi saw every day at work.

He sat on the couch long after Saebyok and Sehun were asleep, phone forgotten in his hands. All the research he’d done over the years replayed in his head,
rearranging itself around one new truth.

He wasn’t alone anymore.

But that thought came tangled with another:

Namjoon hadn’t wanted to be seen.
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By morning, Yoongi looked even more exhausted than usual.

Jungkook arrived just as Yoongi was struggling to tie his shoes, Saebyok half-asleep on the couch and Sehun tucked against his chest.

“Hyung,” Jungkook said softly, taking one look at him. “You didn’t sleep, did you?”

Yoongi exhaled, long and slow. “Jungkook… can I ask you something?”

Jungkook nodded immediately, serious now. “Yeah. Of course.”

Yoongi hesitated, fingers tightening around his bag strap. “If you know someone is a hybrid—a werewolf—and you find out by accident… would it be okay to ask them for help?”

Jungkook blinked, processing. “Help with what?”

“With… kids,” Yoongi said quietly. “Wolf kids.”

Understanding dawned on Jungkook’s face. He didn’t look surprised. Just thoughtful.

“I think,” Jungkook said carefully, “it depends on how you ask. And whether they feel safe.”

Yoongi nodded, eyes downcast. “He looked… terrified.”

Jungkook sighed. “Hyung, hybrids are protected by law, yeah—but that doesn’t mean people don’t still talk. Or judge. If he ran, it means he’s been hurt before.”

Yoongi swallowed. “So it wouldn’t be wrong?”

“No,” Jungkook said firmly. “Not if you respect him. Not if you make it clear you’re not a threat.”

Yoongi looked up then, something steadier settling in his chest. “I don’t want to scare him.”

Jungkook gave a small smile. “Then don’t approach him like a stranger. Approach him like a parent who needs help.”

Saebyok stirred at that moment, ears flicking sleepily, and Yoongi’s resolve quietly hardened.

He didn’t know how Namjoon would react.

But for the sake of his children—

he had to try.
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Namjoon avoided Yoongi.

It wasn’t subtle.

If Yoongi stepped into the pantry, Namjoon suddenly remembered an email.

If Yoongi walked toward the elevators, Namjoon took the stairs.

Meetings ended, and Namjoon was gone before Yoongi could even stand.

The calm smile was gone too. In its place was something tight, guarded. Afraid.

Yoongi noticed everything.

By the second day, his chest felt heavy with it. He understood the fear—God, he did—but watching Namjoon flinch away like that hurt in a way he hadn’t expected.

By the third day, Yoongi was done waiting.

He caught Namjoon near the printing machine,as the man waiting for the printing to be done.

“Namjoon-ssi.”

Namjoon stiffened.

“Please,” Yoongi said quickly, panic creeping into his voice. “Don’t—don’t run.”

Namjoon turned, eyes sharp, calculating, already halfway gone. “Yoongi-ssi, if this is about—”

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Yoongi blurted out. “I swear. I would never.”

Silence stretched between them.

Namjoon laughed once, hollow. “You saw. You know what I am. You could go to HR right now.”

“I won’t,” Yoongi said, stepping closer without thinking. “I didn’t follow you to threaten you. I followed you because—because I need you to listen.”

Namjoon’s jaw tightened. “Listen to what?”

Yoongi bowed slightly, the motion instinctive, desperate. “Please. Just five minutes. If after that you want me to leave you alone, I will. I promise.”

Namjoon hesitated.

Fear warred with something else on his face—curiosity, maybe. Or instinct.

“…Five minutes,” he said finally. “That’s it.”

Yoongi let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“I have kids,” Yoongi said quietly. “Wolf kids.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened before he could stop it.

“My wife was a werewolf,” Yoongi continued, voice steady now. “An omega. She passed away. I’m human. I don’t… I don’t know how to raise them properly.”

Namjoon stared at him, disbelief written all over his face. “You married a hybrid?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re raising wolves alone?”

Yoongi nodded. “My daughter is four. She already has ears. She can’t control them. She doesn’t sleep. I’ve read everything I can find, but it’s not enough.”

Namjoon looked away, running a hand through his hair. “You shouldn’t ask me.”

“I know,” Yoongi said immediately. “I know it’s not your responsibility. I just when I saw you, I thought… maybe I’m not alone anymore.”

Namjoon was quiet for a long moment.

Then, softly, almost to himself, he said, “I was scared you’d destroy my life.”

Yoongi shook his head. “I would never do that. I just want to protect my children.”

Something in Namjoon’s expression shifted not gone, not calm, but less sharp. Less ready to flee.

“…I need time,” Namjoon said. “I can’t promise anything.”

Yoongi nodded. “That’s okay. I’ll wait.”

Namjoon studied him one last time, then turned and left—slower this time.

And Yoongi knew, deep in his bones, that this wasn’t over.
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Namjoon didn’t avoid Yoongi the next day.
That alone made Yoongi’s chest tighten.
They crossed paths near the coffee machine again, and this time Namjoon stopped. He stood there for a moment, hands in his pockets, gaze fixed on the counter like he was weighing something heavy.
“…I’ll help you,” Namjoon said quietly.
Yoongi looked up, startled. “You will?”
“But not here,” Namjoon added quickly. “And not at work. I don’t want… complications.”
“Of course,” Yoongi said immediately. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”
Namjoon nodded once. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. I need time to prepare. Sunday would be better.”
Yoongi’s heart skipped. “Sunday works.”
“I’ll come meet your daughter,” Namjoon continued, voice careful.
Namjoon finally met his eyes. There was still caution there—but also resolve.
“I’m trusting you,” Namjoon said. “Don’t make me regret it.”
“I won’t,” Yoongi said without hesitation.
They exchanged addresses quietly, professionally—like this wasn’t about two hidden worlds colliding, like this wasn’t about Yoongi placing his children’s future into a stranger’s hands.
As Namjoon walked away, Yoongi felt something unfamiliar settle in his chest.
Not relief.
Hope.
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Yoongi sat on the couch, Sehun resting in his lap, and Saebyok bouncing beside him as usual. Her ears twitched every few seconds, as if they had a rhythm all their own.
“Saebyok-ah,” Yoongi said, trying to sound serious—but failing because she immediately noticed the tone—“Appa has something to tell you.”
Her little nose wrinkled. “What? Is it snack time?”
“No… not exactly.” Yoongi rubbed the back of his neck. “You remember Appa told you sometimes we need help… with your wolf ears?”
Saebyok’s ears twitched even faster. “Yes!” she said, bouncing. “I can shake them off sometimes! See?” She shook her head enthusiastically, and the ears flopped a little, almost under control.
“That’s great, Saebyok-ah,” Yoongi said softly. “But Appa thinks you need… a little more help.”
Her brow furrowed, a rare moment of curiosity. “Help? From who?”
Yoongi took a deep breath. “There’s a man… his name is Namjoon-ssi. He’s very nice, and he knows a lot about wolves. He’s going to come see you on Sunday. Just you first, okay? He’s going to help you learn how to control your ears better.”
Saebyok tilted her head. “A man? Appa, can he… pet me?”
Yoongi chuckled softly. “Maybe not yet. He’s here to help you, not play. But he’s very kind. You can trust him.”
Her ears twitched again, this time in thought. “Okay… but Appa will be there too?”
“Always,” Yoongi said firmly, pulling her close. “Appa will never leave you alone. Not ever.”
Saebyok smiled a little, tiny fangs showing, ears flicking. “Okay… I’ll try.”
Yoongi hugged her tighter, feeling a weight lift slightly off his shoulders. He still didn’t know how Namjoon would react to his wild little daughter—but for the first time in a long time, he felt like maybe… someone else could help him carry this.
Sehun yawned in his lap, completely oblivious, and Saebyok nestled against Yoongi’s side, ears twitching as if testing their limits in excitement and anticipation.
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Sunday couldn’t come soon enough.
The doorbell rang, sharp and clear. Yoongi’s heart skipped a beat as he glanced at Saebyok, who was practically vibrating with excitement.
“Remember,” Yoongi whispered, crouching to her level, “you can smell him, but you don’t… reveal anything. Hybrids don’t tell humans their scent.”
Saebyok nodded seriously, ears twitching. “I won’t , Appa!”
Yoongi opened the door. Standing there was Namjoon—tall, broad, calm, but with a faint tension in his shoulders. Even now, Yoongi noticed the subtle strength in his posture.
“Yoongi-ssi,” Namjoon greeted politely, voice deep and even. His gaze flicked down briefly to Sehun in Yoongi’s arms. Respectful. Observant.
“Namjoon-ssi, come in,” Yoongi said softly. “Saebyok’s been waiting all morning.”
Saebyok bounced forward immediately, ears twitching with excitement, eyes bright. “Hello! I’m Min Saebyok! I am a hybrid wolf!”she said loudly, holding out a small hand.
Namjoon crouched slightly, making himself lower so she wouldn’t feel overwhelmed. “Hello, Saebyok,” he said gently, smiling. “I’m Kim Namjoon. I am also a hybrid wolf, an alpha It’s very nice to meet you.”
Saebyok grinned, ears flicking in delight. “You’re an alpha?” she asked, tilting her head.
Namjoon hesitated, but the corners of his mouth lifted in the faintest smile. “Yes. I am,” he admitted quietly. “I can help you with your ears, if you like.”
Saebyok clapped her hands together. “Yes! Appa said you know a lot. Can we start now?”
Yoongi stood back, feeling both relief and nerves. He didn’t know how Namjoon would handle her energy or her instinctual wolf behaviors—but seeing the gentle, patient way he interacted with her… he felt a flicker of hope.
Namjoon extended a hand for her to shake—not commanding, just steady. “We’ll take it slow, Saebyok,” he said. “I’ll teach you how to control your ears and calm your energy.”
Saebyok grinned and shook it with all her might, ears flopping a little. “Okay! Let’s start!”
Yoongi exhaled quietly, heart still racing, realizing that for the first time, maybe his daughter—and he—wouldn’t be entirely alone in this world.
Namjoon guided Yoongi and Saebyok to the living room, sitting down on the floor cross-legged. His presence was calm, grounded, but Yoongi could feel the quiet strength radiating from him—even without knowing he was an alpha.
“She’s very energetic,” Namjoon said quietly, eyes on Saebyok. “The first step is to help her settle… calm her energy. And to understand her scent.”
Yoongi nodded, heart skipping. He’s right… I read about this somewhere in the books.
Namjoon looked at him. “I need your permission to scent her. It’s safe, and it will help me understand how to guide her.”
Yoongi swallowed, then nodded firmly. “Yes. You can.”
Saebyok’s ears twitched in curiosity as Namjoon extended his hand. He gently took her small wrist in his own, pressing it lightly against his, careful and deliberate.
Yoongi held his breath. He had read about scenting in theory, but seeing it in action—seeing Namjoon’s eyes soften as he absorbed her presence—was something else entirely.
Saebyok stayed still, looking up at Namjoon, curious. Then, almost imperceptibly, a soft, innocent purring sound escaped her.
Yoongi froze, heart thudding. He had never heard his daughter do that. Not once.
Namjoon’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of recognition in his eyes. He released her wrist gently, giving her space. “Good. You’re safe here,” he said softly.
Saebyok blinked, ears flicking, still processing the strange new interaction.
Yoongi let out a quiet breath, realizing this was only the beginning—but for the first time, it felt like there might be a way to help his daughter manage her wolf nature.
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Namjoon released Saebyok’s wrist and looked at Yoongi with calm, steady eyes.
“Yoongi-ssi,” he said softly, “would you like to know her scent?”
Yoongi blinked. “h-he… her scent?” he asked, confused.
Namjoon nodded. “It helps you understand her better. Right now, her scent is soft… light. Lilies. Calm. Pure. It’s natural for her age—she still carries a trace of her mother’s scent.”
Yoongi’s chest tightened. He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering. Seunghee had told me once… that her scent would stay with her until the wolf blood fully awakens.
“And…” Namjoon continued carefully, “this will change as she grows. When she presents—shows her secondary gender—her scent will adjust. We won’t know yet if she’s an alpha, beta, or omega.”
Yoongi nodded slowly, absorbing every word. Humans couldn’t smell hybrids, but Namjoon’s explanation allowed him to imagine it, to understand a layer of his daughter he had never been able to sense.
“She smells like… Seunghee,” Yoongi whispered softly, almost to himself.
Namjoon’s gaze softened, just slightly. “Yes. Her wolf blood is strong. But for now… she’s still your little girl. That’s what’s most important.”
Yoongi looked down at Saebyok, ears twitching as she explored the floor, unaware of the significance of her scent, unaware of the history it carried.
For the first time in a long while, Yoongi felt a flicker of hope—maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have to figure this out alone.
Namjoon turned to Saebyok, eyes soft but focused. “Saebyok,” he said gently, “we’re going to practice your ears. First, you need to calm your energy. Can you do that for me?”
Saebyok’s ears twitched. “I’m calm!” she said quickly but her small body was still bouncing slightly, hands fidgeting, eyes wide with excitement.
Namjoon smiled faintly, unshaken. “Okay. Let’s start slowly. Take a deep breath with me.”
He inhaled smoothly, chest rising, shoulders steady. Saebyok copied but immediately bounced back, giggling. Yoongi tried not to groan aloud.
“Good effort,” Namjoon said softly. “Now… feel your ears. Don’t let them stand up yet. Can you try that?”
Saebyok’s ears twitched reflexively, standing halfway before collapsing again. She frowned. “It’s hard!”
“I know,” Namjoon said calmly. “It’s new. You’re learning something your body wants to do naturally. That’s okay. Keep trying.”
Yoongi sat on the couch, Sehun asleep in his lap, watching. He remembered reading about this in old manuals, but seeing how patient Namjoon was, how he could control his own energy like an anchor—was something else entirely.
Saebyok giggled, ears flicking. “I can do it!” she insisted, though every bounce made it harder.
Namjoon reached out a hand, hovering just above hers without touching. “Imagine your energy like water,” he said softly. “If it’s calm, smooth… your ears will listen. If it’s fast and rough, they’ll move on their own. Can you try to make your energy calm, like water?”
Saebyok paused, eyes narrowing in concentration. Yoongi held his breath. Her small chest rose and fell more slowly. The twitching in her ears lessened.
“That’s it,” Namjoon whispered, nodding. “Keep it. Steady.”
Yoongi felt a warmth spread through his chest. He had tried everything he knew—books, videos, his own instincts—but he had never been able to anchor her like this. And Namjoon… Namjoon could.
Saebyok wiggled a little, testing herself, and Namjoon stayed patient, guiding without forcing. Slowly, her ears settled, flopping gently down.
“Good job, Saebyok,” Namjoon said quietly, letting her relax. “You’re learning already.”
Saebyok beamed, bouncing slightly but calmer than before. Yoongi exhaled, quietly relieved.
For the first time, he realized: maybe this strange, tall, dimpled man wasn’t just helping his daughter. Maybe he was helping him too.
Namjoon stood at the door, backpack slung over one shoulder, giving one last glance at the living room. Saebyok was calmer now, ears relaxed, small hands folded neatly in front of her.
“Thank you for today,” Yoongi said quietly. “I… I don’t know how to repay you.”
Namjoon shook his head, faint dimples showing. “No need. Just keep practicing. That’s enough for now.”
Saebyok tugged gently on Yoongi’s sleeve and stepped forward. “Samchon,” she said brightly, looking up at Namjoon with wide, curious eyes.
“Yes,” Namjoo answered firmly,. “Samchon. You come back next Sunday, right?”Saebyok asked.
Namjoon’s expression softened, something in him shifting at the innocence in her voice. “Yes,” he said gently. “Next Sunday.”
“Yay!” Saebyok clapped her hands. “I’ll practice until then!”
Yoongi felt a warmth in his chest he hadn’t felt in months. Watching her excited little face, seeing the trust she had already started to place in Namjoon… he realized this was more than just help with ears or energy.
It was the beginning of something important.
Namjoon waved, gave a small nod to Yoongi, and stepped out into the evening. Behind the door, Saebyok’s tiny voice called again:
“Bye, Samchon! See you next Sunday!”
Yoongi closed the door slowly, watching his daughter’s happy, bouncing form.
For the first time in a long while, he felt hope.
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For the first time in months, bedtime went almost too smoothly.
Sehun was already tucked in, small chest rising and falling steadily, and Yoongi knelt beside Saebyok’s bed. She yawned, eyes heavy, ears twitching softly in the dim light of the room.
“Okay, Saebyok-ah,” Yoongi murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “Time to sleep.”
“Mm-hmm,” she mumbled, curling under the blanket without her usual protests.
Yoongi smiled quietly, relief washing over him. Finally… he thought. A peaceful night.
Her small hand twitched in his, and she murmured sleepily, voice soft and almost dreamy, “Appa… I liked having Samchon here today.”
Yoongi froze for a second, heart skipping. “You… liked it?” he asked carefully.
“Yes,” she whispered, eyes closing halfway. “He… he helped me. And… he smells so good.”
Yoongi’s breath caught. He swallowed, trying not to react, but his mind immediately went to Namjoon-calm, confident, alpha… and completely unaware of this tiny, innocent confession.
“You… like him?” Yoongi said softly, keeping his voice gentle.
Saebyok mumbled something that sounded like “Mm-hmm,” and then her lips curled into a small, sleepy smile. Her ears twitched once, then relaxed completely as she drifted off.
Yoongi sat back quietly, staring at her peaceful face. Part of him was flustered. Another part… was oddly thankful.
He had no idea how this new dynamic would unfold, but for the first time, he felt a little less alone in raising these children.
And somewhere deep down, he knew that the gentle scent of lilies and the quiet bond forming with Namjoon was only the beginning.