Chapter Text
Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe it was the fact that he was just so fucking sick of this shit, but either way Minho didn’t bother censoring his glare as he crossed his arms. “Absolutely not.”
Kim Gi-seok sighed. He looked exhausted; if Minho wasn’t so pissed, he’d almost feel sorry for their manager. “Lino-ssi—”
“I don’t need a babysitter!” The words rang out loud and firecracker-sharp. On the couch nearby Felix and Jeongin both flinched, their omega scents spiking with distress and Minho took a deep breath, trying to force the calm, to return to being the leader they could rely on.
But it was hard. It was so goddamned hard when all he could think of was the freedom he was about to lose. The ability to have his space to himself, his time and his scent and everything that made him who he was, all because the company had no faith in him, thought he couldn’t do something as simple as keep himself safe.
He did understand at least a little where they were coming from. That crazed fan at the signing event had gotten close—way, way too close. And his bodyguards had been useless, as usual, and Minho had had to leap back and grab his chair and fucking deck the guy with it in order to slow him down, but even then the alpha had still tried, had still lunged forward with insanity in his eyes as he tried to grab Minho, to dive toward his neck and bite down…
He couldn’t help the shiver, reaching one hand up instinctively to brush his fingers over the slight swell of tissue just beneath his jaw. Fuck. For an alpha to try to force a claim like that…and what if he had succeeded? What if the crazy bastard actually had bitten down on Minho’s scent gland and left a mark, an emblem proclaiming ownership to the world? He didn’t even want to think about it.
Gi-seok, anyway, seemed to agree from the way he lifted his chin, firm. “I understand how you feel, Lino-ssi,” he said, and Minho almost scoffed because how could he? Kim Gi-seok was a beta, his scent entirely neutral, unnoticeable. Asshole alphas didn’t bother him. Asshole alphas didn’t post disgusting AI manipulations of him online, or send him rape threats or stalk him at events, whispering all the while about him forgetting his place.
Oblivious to the anger churning in his gut, their manager plowed on. “But after this most recent attack, I’m afraid the company no longer considers this negotiable. You all need more effective bodyguards, and you especially, Lino-ssi. So it’s done. We’ve already hired them, isn’t that right, Daeri?”
He nodded at their assistant manager, Kang Jae-min, who only bowed with a small smile. “Yes, sir. I managed to find a small team that all come from the same company, actually, so they’re used to working together already. I also vetted them all myself, so please rest assured your three new bodyguards are well-versed in the nuances of celebrity life, and unmatched in their strength and professionalism.”
Unmatched. Minho sneered. They’d see about that.
Seungmin glanced briefly up from his phone. “You said there are three? But there’s five of us.”
“Yes.” Gi-seok nodded. “Two will split their schedules between the four of you, while Lino will have one assigned to him full-time.”
Their manager actually had the gall to raise his eyebrow at Minho then, as if to say You made your bed, now it’s time to lie in it. It was only the fact that Gi-seok had been with them since the beginning that Minho didn’t punch him in the face.
Hyunjin, anyway, just grinned from where he sat next to Felix and Jeongin on the couch. “Did you hear that, hyung? You’ll have a big bad alpha to guard you twenty-four seven.”
“Bet you’re regretting getting into all those fights now, huh?” Seungmin added, and they were teasing him, Minho knew that, but also it took everything he had not to growl.
Because it just wasn’t fair. It wasn’t like he’d asked for this, to be pursued by crazy alpha fans in this way, resorting to his boxing and taekwondo skills to defend himself from continuous attempts to claim him against his will. And he couldn’t even blame his bodyguards—they tried their best but they were all betas, unable to help the split second of hesitation, of instinctive submission when in the presence of an alpha.
And as much as he hated to admit it, he understood the company’s reasoning. An alpha bodyguard would not only be immune to the influence of other alphas; he would also be able to instinctively sense when another alpha was approaching with intent, since they would be encroaching on his “territory.” Which—that only made Minho even angrier. This wasn’t the goddamned 1950s; omegas were no longer considered property, something to be owned and shown off and bred until they died. Times were different now. The resounding success of Stray Kids, the first all-omega idol group in kpop history, was more than proof of that.
One thing was for sure. If they assigned him an alpha bodyguard, he was going to make sure they regretted it: not just the company, but the guy himself. Oh, he couldn’t wait to see what misery he could wreak, how he could take this arrogant, dumb alpha and grind him to pieces beneath his boot. His bodyguard was going to regret ever being born, much less assigned to look after Lee Minho.
Across the room, Gi-seok sighed. “Do I want to know why you smell like murder right now?” he said, and didn’t bother waiting for Minho to answer as he turned to Jae-min. “Let’s bring them in. The sooner we’re able to integrate them in with the staff, the better.”
As his assistant nodded and scrambled to obey, Minho spun and stalked from the room. Well, this was just fucking fantastic.
Staff members scrambled out of his way as he stomped down the hall, and if he’d been in a better mood Minho might have felt guilty. It wasn’t their fault, anyway, that he was in this position: they weren’t responsible for the anti-omega sentiments that still plagued the music industry and society in general, that made it so that being the leader of a world-famous all-omega idol group basically meant painting a giant bullseye between his shoulders. It was frankly ridiculous the bullshit he had to put up with. Trolls were always harassing him on social media, making threats and calling him all sorts of slurs. He could no longer read his own fanmail ever since a package had exploded and gotten urine all over a poor unsuspecting intern—some bastard alpha’s attempt at scentsetting, apparently. And that wasn’t even counting the constant stalking, harassment, and the physical attacks at concerts and events that were, honestly, getting a little tiring. There were only so many times he could fight someone driven insane with desperation, after all. There were only so many times he could tolerate nearly having his freedom stolen from him.
Because that was what all those alphas wanted when they attacked him. They wanted to claim him, to bite down on his scent gland and make it known to the world that Minho belonged to them. And it didn’t matter that it made no biological sense. Claims were real, of course, but they only manifested in the opposite direction: when an omega bit an alpha, at which point an intense series of physiological and hormonal changes occurred, establishing a new pair-bond scent as well as an extremely unique and sought-after ability: mate control. The omega gaining power over the alpha, able to command their partner completely for short periods of time.
The jury was still out on why this change occurred; some said it gave an evolutionary advantage, the omega essentially guaranteeing that the alpha stayed around and provided for their offspring. Others called it pack mentality, or fated mates or soul bonds. Whatever it was, claims were considered the deepest, most sacred form of connection that could be established between two people. Perhaps that was why, a few decades back, the opposite act came into fashion: alphas biting their omega partners, not to change or control, but simply to confirm their mateship to the world. Couples these days sported matching marks, played up and romanticized in movies and dramas the world over, and it was sweet and melodramatic and also so fucking infuriating because it meant all the members of Stray Kids had to contend with insane alphas panting after them and trying to leave their mark. And as SKZ’s leader, Minho took the brunt of it.
He didn’t regret it, of course. If he could take all the attacks onto himself, if he could guarantee that Hyunjin, Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin would be safe, then he would gladly make the sacrifice. But he couldn’t, and now JYPE wanted an alpha to hang around him 24/7. Just fucking great.
Another staff member—might’ve been an intern, she looked to be late teens at most—squeaked and pressed herself back up against the wall as he passed. Minho sighed. He needed to get a handle on his anger, or at least purge it from his scent. God forbid he get yet another complaint filed against him about aggressive interactions or a hostile work environment; management had been okay with it so long as those complaints came from alphas, but now that all of SKZ’s staff were betas and omegas, more grievances would likely turn into actual discipline. And he didn’t need that bullshit on top of everything else.
Whatever. There was a practice room at the end of the hall, and Minho made a beeline for it. The company wanted to assign him an alpha bodyguard? Fine. He’d show them all how wrong they were, how Lee Minho was an omega who was strong and trained and more than able to look after himself. The room would be empty this time of day, the perfect place to get in some drills. Maybe he’d tape Kim Gi-seok’s face to the wall and punch it until he felt better.
Nodding to himself, he shoved the door open and—
Oh.
The scent hit him first: sharp oaken hardwood with hints of fire and ash like a forest after a wildfire had burned its way through, underlined by that deep earthy rootedness that defined all alphas. It was…well. It was fucking lovely, and before his brain even fully registered it Minho was closing his eyes and taking a deep inhale, the omega deep inside him practically purring with contentment as he took in this scent that was safety, that was solidity and groundedness and the warm glowing haven of home.
And then a new voice spoke up. “Oh, thank god!”
Minho blinked. Opened his eyes, and—and there was a guy in the room. Looked about his age with short dark hair and round eyes, and who was he? How had he gotten past security? And then the man smiled and that grounded fire-oak scent thickened just a bit, and oh. He was an alpha. He was an alpha and he was here in the practice room like nothing was wrong, like he hadn’t let anyone stop him and the man was smiling and stepping forward and opening his mouth to speak—
And Minho fucking. Lost it.
Because here was another one, another goddamned fucking alpha who wouldn’t know what a boundary was if it kicked him in the balls. Another alpha looking to claim him, who saw him as nothing but a trophy to be won and oh, he’d fucking had it.
The alpha’s eyes widened and he reared back with a sharp “Whoa!”, barely avoiding Minho’s first punch but it hardly mattered. Because Lee Minho was pissed, and this bastard was going to pay for everything he and his scent represented.
“Wait, wait, what’re you—Jesus!” The alpha sprang once more out of the way of his roundhouse kick and Minho had to give him credit: the guy was fast, dodging each of his strikes quick and efficient but it didn’t matter. Minho was trained, he was good and he knew it and he snarled and launched himself once more at the strange alpha, punching and kicking and using the full force of his weight as they fought from one end of the room to the other. The alpha was somehow managing to match him blow for blow, evading or parrying each of his strikes and he still looked utterly confused and maybe just a little fearful and that Minho could work with, if he made this alpha afraid then maybe he would finally be left the fuck alone because he’d never asked for this, he never wanted anything to do with—
“Oh Christ, will you—” The alpha ducked under his kick, then finally seemed to make a decision. Strong hands seized Minho’s leg, throwing him off balance and he stumbled for half a second, just long enough for the alpha to grab his arm, wrench it behind his back, and slam him up against the wall.
His shoulder screamed in pain but Minho hardly registered it, too busy drowning in a confusing wave of emotions: anger because what the fuck, if this guy didn’t get the fuck off him right the fuck now he was going to put him into the fucking ground…and hot thrumming want because holy shit, he smelled phenomenal. Like fire and ash and everything that burned, a heat that sank itself into Minho’s bones like it had always had a home there, like this man had been carved into the center of his soul from the moment he was born, a space just waiting for him to fill, a space that echoed of desire and longing and mate—
The alpha’s body pressed up against him, all heat and hard angles. His scent exploded in the air, heavy and thick with anger and confusion and Minho most definitely did not let out a soft whine as the alpha spoke into his ear, a rush of hot breath that raised goosebumps all over his skin. “Look, I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” he said, and fuck, even his voice was amazing, low and rumbling and enough to send heat dancing up Minho’s spine. The omega inside him shuddered, unfurling with an echoing cry of desire and want and alpha alpha alpha, and before he knew it his eyes had slipped shut, a tiny broken noise escaping him even as he pushed back against the alpha’s firm body, all his nerves lighting up in heat and arousal—
And the other man stiffened. “Oh! Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
The grip on his arm abruptly loosened and—and what the fuck was he doing? The rage roared back into being in a white-hot wave and Minho threw his elbow back, a burst of vicious satisfaction running through him when it hit something soft and the alpha grunted and stumbled back, and it was all the opportunity he needed. Minho spun, registered for just a half-second the alpha’s look of utter shock before he grabbed the other man and flipped him bodily over his shoulder.
The stranger hit the floor with a resounding thump and a breathless cry. Minho didn’t wait; in the next moment he was on top of the guy, and even as the alpha’s eyes widened and he blurted “Oh shit—” Minho lifted his fist, entire body shaking with rage because fuck this guy, Minho was going to cave his fucking face in—
And the door burst open.
“Lino-ssi!”
“Hyung!”
Strong hands grabbed him, hauling him off the stranger even as he snarled and fought, and vaguely he was aware of multiple voices suddenly bouncing about the room, shouting, demanding, placating.
“Oh my god, what happened—”
“Who are you?”
“Jesus Christ, did you really just—”
And then, ringing out sudden and clear over everything else: laughter.
It was what jolted Minho back to reality at last. The cloud of rage receded just a bit, just enough for him to shove at Felix and Hyunjin who were still trying to restrain him. A few feet away Seungmin and Jeongin stood next to a pissed-looking Gi-seok, while beyond them two other strangers hovered just inside the threshold of the door.
They were both alphas; he caught the rootedness in their scents immediately. But while the first was just standing there staring at the scene before them, eyes wide and a little shocked, the second was doubled over, broad shoulders shaking as he cackled high-pitched and hysterical like he couldn’t help it, like someone had just told him the world’s funniest joke.
Said joke slowly pushed himself up to standing, taking a moment to dust himself off with a glare. “Shut up, hyung.”
“I can’t—” Fresh laughter burst from the other alpha, stealing his breath so that he was barely able to pant out, “Your—Your face, and are you sure he really needs you protecting him—”
Minho blinked. Turned to stare at the alpha he’d just defeated, who just sighed, shoulders slumping. He looked…not defensive or angry, strangely, that an omega had just put him on the ground. No, instead he only looked embarrassed, cheeks a little pink as he turned to the third alpha whose gaze was still flicking between them like he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.
“Channie-hyung,” the alpha he’d attacked said—whined, really, and his senior blinked, seemed to shake himself out of his daze.
“Right.” He elbowed his companion hard enough to make him yelp. “Button it up, Changbin, Christ.”
Changbin obediently clamped down on his laughter, though his eyes still sparkled as he regarded the strange alpha. “Looks like we need to send you back to fight school, Hannie,” he said, and the alpha—Hannie?—sighed.
“He caught me off guard,” he protested, but their senior—Chan shook his head.
“We’ll talk about this later,” he said, before turning to Gi-seok and executing a smooth bow. “I apologize for the behavior of my teammates. What you just witnessed notwithstanding, I can assure you we at 3RACHA Protection Agency are the epitome of professionalism.”
And—oh. Slowly, the connections formed in Minho’s mind. Alphas. Fight school. Protection agency.
Oh. Oh, no.
Gi-seok, anyway, just sent him a glare that clearly said We are going to have words about this, before turning back to Chan. “It’s no problem, Bang-ssi. As you may have heard, Lino here is rather notorious for his, ah. Dislike of alphas.”
Jeongin snorted. Minho frowned, but before he could say anything their manager continued, “But I suppose this is as good a time to make introductions as any. So, Stray Kids, meet your three new alpha bodyguards. Bang Chan and Seo Changbin here will be assigned to Hyunjin, Seungmin, Iyen and Felix, while you, Lino—” And here Minho could swear his smile turned smug. “—have the honor of working full-time with Han Jisung.”
And he indicated the alpha he’d just beaten, and oh. No. No fucking way.
The strange alpha—Jisung turned to him with a small, sheepish smile, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Um,” he said. “Hi.”
He most definitely did not look absolutely adorable, standing there with his hair all messed up and his face still flushed from the fight. Minho turned away with a huff, fixing his gaze on Gi-seok and Jae-min. “Really?” he said. “This is the best you could do?”
“Hey!” Jisung sounded a little offended. Minho didn’t give a shit.
“He couldn’t even hold his own just now and you expect him to protect me?” He whirled on Jae-min with narrowed eyes. “Did you even do any research when you hired them? Or did you just close your eyes and pray to the Google gods?”
Jae-min flinched, his omega scent quavering with fear and shame. “I’m s-sorry, Lee-ssi, I swear I asked for recommendations—”
“Oh, great, recommendations. Well, how about I recommend next time you actually put in some fucking work—”
“Lee Minho.”
It was rare that Kim Gi-seok got angry. It was even rarer that he got angry at Minho, having worked with Stray Kids for so long he seemed most days like more of a long-suffering uncle than a manager. But every once in a while, the beta still reminded them who made the decisions around here, who had first brought them together under JYP for the survival show, who was ultimately responsible for their success.
And right now he was doing all three simply through the power of the stare he fixed on Minho, firm, unyielding, and heavy with disappointment. Minho’s stomach churned despite his best intentions and he grit his teeth and looked away. “Whatever. Sorry, Daeri-nim.”
He did feel it, at least a little bit. Kang Jae-min was a newer hire, only joined their staff a few months ago, and he’d been so excited from the very beginning, smiling and blushing and waxing on and on about how honored he was to be working with a group of fellow omegas, people who were pushing boundaries and redefining how society saw their alignment. Jae-min just wanted to help, and here Minho was being an asshole when it wasn’t the other omega he was angry at, oh no. Not even close.
Jisung was watching him with an unreadable expression, somewhere between uncertain and still vaguely offended. Minho lifted his chin; if the dumb alpha had something to say then he’d better say it. He’d only been telling the truth, anyway: how was he supposed to trust Jisung to watch his back when he couldn’t even beat his own client in a fight?
Then, eventually, Jisung sighed. His shoulders slumped as he turned to his two companions. “Binnie-hyung, why don’t we just switch—”
“No.” Chan shook his head. His alpha scent—clean water like a large, undisturbed lake—flickered with conviction and, strangely, what felt like a hint of pity. “We’re not changing the assignments, Hannie, and that’s final.”
Jisung frowned. His eyes flashed, and Minho braced for it: the defensiveness, the insults, that deep-seated nastiness all alphas seemed to employ as a reflex whenever an omega did something they didn’t like. But he’s a bitch, Minho imagined Jisung saying next. He’s too uppity. Did you hear the way he talks to me? He doesn’t know his place.
But then the alpha sighed and said, “I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”
Minho blinked. Wait. Did he…had he heard that wrong?
“Oh, trust me, Hannie,” Changbin said as he glanced over at Minho, “if there’s anyone making anyone uncomfortable here, it’s not you.”
And his smoked leather scent sharpened just a bit, just enough for Minho to smell the judgment, to know exactly what the alpha meant. And despite everything he felt his face grow hot, embarrassment and just a hint of shame curling in his gut, and—fuck. Look, it wasn’t his fault, okay? It was just…all the alphas he’d encountered in his life had turned out to be such dicks, either trying to get in his pants, get on his dime, or both. And they all treated him the same: like he was less than simply because of his alignment and, just. He was just so fucking sick of it. He was sick of being treated like an accessory, like something to be owned and admired before being tossed aside when he’d outlived his use, and—and why should he assume Han Jisung would be an exception? He was an alpha, he’d approached Minho without asking, had invaded his space like the asshole he was—
Except he hadn’t actually done any of that, had he? Entirely without his permission Minho’s gaze slid back to Jisung, heart tightening just a bit at the way he stood hunched just a little into himself like he was trying to appear smaller, like he really didn’t want to be here. And earlier when Minho had entered the room, Jisung had approached him, yes—but it had been with surprise and curiosity and, now that he thought about it, not a small bit of relief. Jisung must have thought the company sent Minho to fetch him, or at least that Minho was someone he could ask for directions from, and he’d meant to request help and Minho had responded by attacking him.
Fuck.
Gi-seok’s sharp throat-clearing broke neatly into his thoughts. Their manager straightened his shoulders, nodding at the three alphas. “Well, now that that’s settled,” he said, in a voice so falsely chipper it made Minho wince, “I’m sure you all could use some time to settle in. Bang-ssi, Seo-ssi, let me make some more direct introductions…”
And as he led the two other alphas over to where Felix, Seungmin, Jeongin, and Hyunjin were waiting, Minho sighed, watching as Jae-min hesitantly beckoned Jisung over. “Um,” their assistant manager said, and he refused to meet Minho’s eyes and fuck, Minho didn’t think he’d ever felt like such a tool. “Well, um. I guess I’ll just…leave the two of you to get to know each other.”
And then he was scurrying away like he was being chased. Jisung watched him go, gaze lingering almost like he wished their positions were switched, before he finally turned back to Minho with a small smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. “Well then. I guess you’re stuck with me, Lee Minho-nim.”
Yeah. Minho glanced over at the other group, where Changbin had apparently just told a hilarious joke from the way Seungmin was giggling—and blushing a little, interesting—as the others smiled and Chan looked on, fond. They seemed friendly, comfortable. And why wouldn’t they be? They hadn’t just gotten out of a sudden unexpected fistfight prompted by misplaced rage.
He swallowed, looked away. “Yes, fine. Whatever.” Then he spun on his heel and marched out of the room. A couple seconds later a second pair of footsteps followed, just a hint of ashen oak tinting the air, and Minho sighed.
It was going to be a long day.