The second the elevator doors hissed open, the scent hit them like a divine punch to the gut.

Warm vanilla, soft magnolia, the barest hint of citrus from fresh laundry detergent clinging to the nest blankets—her scent. Their omega. Home. Alone. Nesting.

And also? Apparently out of suppressants again.

Mira’s foot twitched like it wanted to bolt straight through the walls, but she held back, arms crossed, jaw tight. “She’s unsupervised. That’s illegal.”

“She’s not a toddler,” Rumi snapped, but her stride was too sharp, her braid slashing over her shoulder like a whip. She elbowed the front door open and walked into their shared chaos like a general prepared to wage war—or collapse into the nearest pile of plush pillows and scent-drunk bonding.

Zoey didn’t say a word. She sprinted.

The apartment was suspiciously quiet save for the muffled sound of an old drama rerun and a soft whimper from the direction of the master bedroom—their bedroom.

And there she was.

Curled in the heart of the nest like an angel dropped into a pillowy battlefield. Dressed in one of Mira’s band tees, surrounded by enough blankets to bury a body and still looking entirely too small. Their omega. Knees tucked. Sleeves swallowed her hands. Scent blooming like a wild thing.

“Okay,” Mira exhaled, tossing her weapon down somewhere. “Okay, I can be normal.”

“You’re literally vibrating,” Rumi muttered, though her own hands were twitching at her sides. The Honmoon’s chosen sword wielder, fierce and untouchable on stage, now inching toward the nest like a guilt-stricken predator.

Zoey had already thrown herself down into the pile, half-laughing, half-keening, arms wrapped around a plush turtle and moaning dramatically. “We missed you so bad, babe! I swear I almost bit a lighting tech by accident!”

She didn’t even look up. She just reached out, palm brushing their omega’s thigh with a whimper so high it bordered on offensive.

Rumi and Mira exchanged a glance.

Rumi moved first. She crouched beside the nest, not touching yet, just staring at their omega like she might evaporate if looked at too hard. Her pupils were blown wide, gold shimmering into silver at the edges.

“Please tell me you ate,” Rumi said, but her voice cracked halfway through the sentence.

Mira gave up pretending. She crashed in on the other side, grumbling under her breath as she adjusted the nest wall that had folded in. “You let her build this alone? She's gonna overheat, there's no airflow—are you seriously using Zoey's sequin leggings as a nest lining?!”

“I panicked!” Zoey shrieked, clinging tighter to the plushie and the omega’s arm. “She smelled lonely!”

Their omega blinked sleepily, shifted just enough to let Mira press up behind her and Rumi curl gently around her front. Instantly, the alpha energy in the room short-circuited. The nest filled with the unmistakable scent of Alpha need, tangled with the soft comfort of Omega home.

And none of them could handle it.

Rumi buried her face in the crook of her neck with a muffled groan. “We were onstage for hours, and she smells better than any of us.”

Mira's lips brushed her omega's shoulder. “Next concert, I’m canceling it. I’m just gonna stay here. In the nest. With this heater and no sequins.”

Zoey, half-under a weighted blanket, chirped, “Dibs on middle spoon!”

The lights dimmed automatically, casting the room in golden haze. Outside, the city kept pulsing with life. Inside the nest? Every alpha instinct screamed, purred. Begging for affection.