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Chapter Text

Today had been one of those days that sat heavy on Taehyung’s chest from the moment he woke up. Starting at a new university in the middle of the academic year was never ideal, but the timing had been unavoidable.

The move to a smaller, cozier apartment—one he could finally call entirely his own—had come as both a relief and a quiet ache of guilt. He no longer shared space with his older brother Jin, whose life had changed dramatically since he’d found his mate.

Nights in their old place had become a symphony of mingled scents and sounds that Taehyung had no desire to be audience to. The thick, intoxicating overlay of Jin’s beta pheromones blending with his Alpha’s, the muffled laughter and gasps filtering through thin walls. It had been impossible to ignore, and impossible to feel anything but intrusive.

So Taehyung had left.

Jin, ever the protective older brother, had helped cover the difference the scholarship didn’t quite reach, insisting it was the least he could do. Still, the guilt lingered like a faint aftertaste—Taehyung hated feeling like a burden, even if Jin swore otherwise.

He stepped onto campus, the weight of his dance bag slung over one shoulder.

Art studies had always been his refuge, dance above all, but also singing, drawing, painting, photography—anything that let him pour the restlessness inside him into something beautiful and controlled.

He was majoring in dance, which meant most of his schedule revolved around studios, mirrors, and the ache of muscles pushed to their limits.

He’d even added an elective on entrepreneurship, a quiet dream taking shape in the back of his mind. That one day opening his own dance academy, perhaps weaving in vocal training as well.

The vision wasn’t fully formed yet, but the passion was. Dancing wasn’t just something he did; it was the language his body spoke most fluently, and he intended to build a life around it.

As an Omega, Taehyung had long ago learned to navigate the world with caution. He wasn’t ashamed of his designation—far from it. There was a quiet pride in the grace his biology granted him, in the way movement seemed to flow through him like breath.

But he was tired of being hunted.

In high school, his natural scent had been a beacon. Alphas had gravitated toward him without thinking, drawn as helplessly as moths to flame.

The school clinic had refused suppressants outside of heat cycles, claiming “natural development,” and so he’d endured the constant attention, the lingering stares, the bold touches disguised as accidents.

University had changed that.

Now he had access to partial suppressants—enough to mute the allure without erasing it completely. His scent still carried a gentle trace of strawberry and cream, soft and approachable rather than intoxicating, more like a comfortable sweater than an open invitation.

It let him move through crowds without feeling like prey.

Today, especially, he was grateful for the thin veil of protection the medication provided. New environment, new faces, too many unknown Alphas whose pheromones already mingled in the crisp air of the campus walkways.

***

Taehyung made his way to the administration office first, the corridors still unfamiliar and echoing faintly with distant voices and the occasional burst of laughter.

The secretary, a middle-aged Beta with a no-nonsense air, greeted him with practiced efficiency. She explained the basics of the campus layout, handed him his printed schedule, and then mentioned the university’s policy for mid-year arrivals: every late enrollee in the arts program was assigned a student guide from the same major—someone to help navigate classes, studios, and the unspoken social rules.

“Your guide has already been assigned,” she said, glancing at her screen. “His name is Jungkook.”

Taehyung hesitated, shifting his weight. “Um… excuse me, but is this Jungkook an Omega? I’d feel more comfortable if—”

“It won’t be an issue,” the secretary interrupted gently, offering a small, knowing smile. “Jungkook is completely harmless toward Omegas. That’s precisely why we choose him for them.”

“Oh.” Taehyung nodded slowly. “Okay.”

The words lingered in his mind as he stepped back into the hall to wait. Harmless toward Omegas.

That could only mean one of two things: either Jungkook already had a bonded mate, his instincts fully claimed and redirected, or he had imprinted on someone long ago and simply wasn’t wired to respond to any other Omega’s scent.

Anything else seemed impossible.

Alphas, by nature, were drawn to Omegas on some level—even the most disciplined ones carried that low, constant hum of interest beneath their control.

He settled onto one of the benches lining the spacious hall, the high ceilings and large windows letting in pale winter light.

Ten minutes passed.

Then fifteen.

A few Alphas lingered nearby, their gazes drifting over him with varying degrees of curiosity—some subtle, some less so.

Their pheromones brushed against his senses. Sharp pine, smoky leather, bold citrus. Nothing particularly threatening, but enough to make him hyper-aware of his own muted strawberry scent beneath the suppressants. No one approached, though, and he was grateful for that small mercy.

Eventually, restlessness won out. Taehyung stood and began wandering the hall, studying the student artwork on display—vibrant abstract paintings, delicate wire sculptures, posters announcing upcoming performances and exhibitions. Art was everywhere here, breathing life into what could have otherwise felt like cold institutional walls.

That was when he noticed it.

A scent, faint and elusive, threading through the busier notes of the hall. It wasn’t masked by medication the way his own was; it felt... incomplete.

Subdued in a way that seemed almost natural, as though the source had never learned to project fully.

And yet there was no mistaking its Alpha undertone, warm cedar softened by rain-soaked earth, a hint of sun-warmed skin, quiet and grounding rather than commanding.

It didn’t demand attention; it simply existed, tucked into the background like a half-whispered secret.

Taehyung turned toward the source without thinking. A young man stood at the secretary’s counter, speaking quietly, head slightly bowed.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair falling softly over his forehead—strikingly attractive in an understated way that made Taehyung’s pulse skip once, unexpectedly.

There was no trace of a mating mark visible at his collar, no foreign Omega scent clinging to him.

He was alone.

The secretary gestured in Taehyung’s direction, and the young man—Jungkook—turned.

Their eyes met across the hall, and something unfamiliar stirred low in Taehyung’s chest.

Not the full, overwhelming crash he’d read about in stories of imprinting or true mates—just a quiet tug, a flicker of intrigue that made his inner Omega sit up and pay attention.

As Jungkook approached, the scent grew clearer, wrapping gently around Taehyung’s senses, neither invasive nor overpowering, yet somehow impossible to ignore.

“Hello,” Jungkook said softly, stopping a respectful distance away. His voice was low, careful. “I’m Jungkook. You must be Taehyung?”

“Yes.” Taehyung managed a small smile, though his mind was still turning over that strange, muted fragrance. “So… you’re the one assigned to me this semester?”

“That’s right.”

Up close, Jungkook was even more intriguing. His presence didn’t fill the space the way most Alphas did; he seemed almost folded in on himself, shoulders drawn slightly forward as if to take up less room.

But the scent was undeniably Alpha—faint, yes, but authentic. It unsettled Taehyung in a way he couldn’t quite name. He wasn’t afraid, exactly; he simply didn’t want to spend an entire semester tethered to an Alpha guide, no matter how quiet.

“I’m sorry, but…” Taehyung began, keeping his tone polite, “I’d really prefer an Omega or a Beta if possible—”

“I’m not a real Alpha,” Jungkook cut in quietly, eyes dropping to the floor for a moment. “I won’t do anything to you. I promise.”

Taehyung blinked, caught off guard. Not a real Alpha? The words didn’t make sense. The scent was there, unmistakable even in its restraint.

“You’re still an Alpha, and—”

He never finished the sentence.

A damp cloth, slapped hard against the side of his face, cold liquid seeping instantly into his skin and hair.

“Oh no—” Jungkook’s voice pitched with immediate panic. “I’m so sorry, I think they were aiming for me—”

Taehyung didn’t hear the rest.

Heat surged through him, sharp and furious. He might be an Omega, but he was far from helpless.

Anger flared bright and protective, aimed not just at the culprits but at the idea that anyone could treat another person this way in broad daylight.

“Is this some kind of fucking joke?” He spun toward the group of Alphas lounging nearby, wiping the cloth away with a rough swipe. His voice carried, clear and unafraid. “What’s your problem?”

One of them smirked, arms crossed. “We weren’t aiming for you, pretty boy. You shouldn’t stand so close to that impostor.”

Impostor.

Taehyung’s gaze snapped back to Jungkook, whose face had gone pale, eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

“They’re talking about you?” Taehyung asked, voice lower now, edged with disbelief.

“They’re… just joking,” Jungkook murmured, the words barely audible.

“That’s not a joke,” Taehyung said flatly. “That’s harassment.”

Jungkook shifted uncomfortably, fingers tightening around the strap of his bag. “We… we should probably start the tour. Do you want to come?”

For a moment Taehyung simply stared at him—at the quiet resignation in his posture. Something protective stirred again inside Taehyung’s chest, stronger this time, though he couldn’t yet name it.

He drew a slow breath, nodded once, and fell into step beside Jungkook as they left the hall behind.

***

The arts building was a sprawling labyrinth of light and color, far larger than Taehyung had expected.

Sunlight poured through tall windows, catching on polished floors and illuminating the student installations that lined every corridor.

Taehyung couldn’t help himself—he paused often, phone in hand, snapping photos of pieces that caught his eye, a swirling mural of dancers in mid-leap, a series of charcoal portraits with haunting eyes, a wire sculpture that seemed to capture the exact curve of a body in motion.

At one point he handed his phone to Jungkook with a shy smile. “Could you take one of me in front of that one?” he asked.

Jungkook nodded quietly, fingers careful as he framed the shot. He didn’t say much, but he took several photos from different angles without being asked, making sure the lighting was right.

Taehyung thanked him warmly, but even as they moved on, he couldn’t ignore how closed-off Jungkook remained—shoulders slightly hunched, gaze fixed ahead or on the floor, voice soft and measured whenever he pointed out a studio or explained shortcuts between buildings.

What Taehyung couldn’t ignore even more were the stares. They followed them everywhere.

Alphas mostly—groups lingering at corners, leaning against walls, their scents sharp and territorial as they watched Jungkook with open disdain. Whispers trailed behind them like smoke, “fake Alpha,” “waste of space,” “why’s he even here?” Sometimes the comments were louder, tossed out carelessly as they passed.

Each time, Taehyung felt Jungkook’s already faint scent retreat further, thinning until it was barely detectable, as though his inner wolf curled up tight and refused to show itself.

It happened whenever too many dominant Alphas crowded nearby, too—their heavier pheromones pressing down like a physical weight, forcing Jungkook’s presence into near invisibility.

It infuriated Taehyung.

He hated bullying in every form, but this felt especially cruel. Punishing someone for simply existing differently.

“Hey,” he said at one point, stopping in a quieter hallway to face Jungkook directly. “Don’t pay attention to them. They’re idiots. There’s nothing weird about your scent, and there’s definitely nothing wrong with loving dance. Being different isn’t a crime, Jungkook.”

For the first time, Jungkook’s scent shifted subtly—warming just a fraction, like sunlight breaking through thin cloud cover.

He looked up, dark eyes meeting Taehyung’s for a brief, startled moment, and offered a small, hesitant smile that made something in Taehyung’s chest tighten unexpectedly.

“Thank you, Tae—” Jungkook started, but then his expression changed. “Watch out!”

Taehyung had barely registered the warning before he was slammed back against the wall, Jungkook’s body crowding close in a protective arc, arms braced on either side of him.

A bucket’s worth of cold, wet paint splattered over them both—bright turquoise streaking down their clothes, dripping from Jungkook’s hair onto Taehyung’s shoulder.

Laughter erupted from the group of Alphas down the hall, their scents spiking with smug satisfaction.

But Taehyung didn’t hear them.

In that single heartbeat of instinctive protection, Jungkook’s scent had flared—sudden, overwhelming, complete.

It wrapped around Taehyung like a blanket, strong and safe and undeniably Alpha. Jungkook’s eyes flashed crimson for a split second, the wolf rising sharp and fierce.

And Taehyung’s own inner Omega answered before he could think. His vision tinged gold at the edges, a soft amber glow he knew meant his eyes had shifted color.

Something deep inside him surged forward—not fear, not anger, but recognition. A pull so powerful it stole his breath. The moment stretched, suspended, their bodies close, paint dripping between them, scents tangling in a way that felt suddenly inevitable.

Then it was gone.

Jungkook stepped back quickly, shoulders folding inward again as his scent retreated into that familiar, muted quiet. His eyes returned to their usual dark brown, expression mortified.

But Taehyung could still feel it. The true scent lingered in the air around him, clinging to his clothes, his skin, his memory. Even minutes later, as it objectively faded, it remained vivid in his mind—addictive, comforting, home in a way he didn’t understand.

His heart pounded. His hands trembled slightly.

“I—I have to go,” he managed, voice unsteady. He pushed gently past Jungkook, careful not to meet his eyes again. “We’ll see each other in class.”
He walked away quickly, paint drying sticky on his jacket, the echo of that full, true scent following him like a ghost.

According to his schedule, he had no classes for the rest of the day. Thank god. Because Taehyung didn’t understand what had just happened—not the flare of Jungkook’s scent, not the way his own body had responded, not the sudden, aching need to turn around and bury his face in the crook of Jungkook’s neck just to breathe him in again.

All he knew was that something inside him had shifted, quietly and irrevocably, and there was no going back.

***

Taehyung burst through the door of his small apartment, heart still racing as if he’d run the entire way home.

The turquoise paint had already begun to dry in stiff streaks across his jacket and hair, but that wasn’t what bothered him most.

It was the ghost of that scent—warm cedar, rain-soaked earth, sun-warmed skin—that clung to him more stubbornly than the pigment ever could.

He stripped off his clothes in the bathroom, turned the shower as hot as he could stand, and scrubbed furiously at his skin, trying to wash away both the paint and the memory.

But no amount of soap could erase the way that full, true fragrance had wrapped around him for that fleeting second, sinking into his lungs like it belonged there.

He needed answers. He needed his friends.

Namjoon arrived first. As a Beta studying medicine with a particular focus on Alpha-Omega dynamics, he was the most logical person Taehyung could think of to make sense of whatever had just happened. Jimin, fellow Omega and best friend since high school, would be late—his evening classes ran long on Mondays.

Namjoon let himself in with the spare key Taehyung had given him, kicking off his shoes and dropping his bag by the door. “So? New university life treating you well?” he asked with an easy grin, settling onto the couch like he owned the place.

Taehyung managed a weak smile as he handed him a mug of tea. “It’s… nice. The arts building is incredible.”

Namjoon’s eyes narrowed almost immediately, reading him the way only a close friend could. “Okay, cut the small talk. Why the emergency summons?”

Taehyung sank into the armchair opposite him, fingers tightening around his own mug. “They assigned me a guide because I enrolled mid-year. An Alpha.”

“And…?”

“He’s… different.” Taehyung hesitated, searching for the right words. “His scent is almost completely suppressed—not by blockers, but naturally. It’s faint, incomplete. The other Alphas give him hell for it. Call him fake, impostor, all of that. And because he majors in dance, which apparently makes him even less of a ‘real’ Alpha in their eyes.”

Namjoon frowned, sympathy softening his features. “That sounds rough. Poor guy.”

“Yeah. He’s actually really kind, quiet, helpful…” Taehyung’s voice trailed off. He could still picture Jungkook’s hesitant smile in the hallway, the way he’d carefully framed those photos. “But today some idiots threw a bucket of paint at us—at him, really. He pushed me against the wall to shield me, took most of it himself.”

Namjoon leaned forward. “And something happened then?”

Taehyung swallowed. “For one second… his scent changed. It flared—became full, strong, overwhelming. Warm cedar and wet earth, like after rain. His eyes went red. His wolf just… surged. And mine answered. My eyes shifted gold. I felt it. Then everything went back to normal—his scent faded again like always—but I could still smell the real one. It stayed with me. Even now, hours later, it’s like it’s etched into my memory. I can’t shake it.”

Namjoon’s expression turned thoughtful, clinical interest mixing with concern. “Tae… did you imprint on him?”

Taehyung’s eyes widened. “What? No. I’m the Omega. That’s not how it works.”

“It’s rarer,” Namjoon said calmly, “but it absolutely happens. Omegas can imprint first, especially when an Alpha’s true scent or protective instinct breaks through unexpectedly. The bond doesn’t always start with the Alpha.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Taehyung shook his head, voice rising slightly. “I barely know him. I should’ve waited for Jimin before bringing this up.”

“Tae, I’m literally studying Alpha-Omega biological responses. I’ve read dozens of case studies. What you described—mutual eye shift, lingering phantom scent, intense pull after a single protective flare—that’s textbook unilateral imprinting from the Omega side.”

Before Taehyung could protest further, the door swung open and Jimin breezed in, cheeks flushed from the cold, arms already outstretched.

“Heyyy! I missed you so much!” He pulled Taehyung into a tight hug, burying his face dramatically in his shoulder. “New apartment and you already abandon us.”

Namjoon snorted. “It’s been, what, three days?”

Jimin pulled back, grinning. “A best friend is allowed to be clingy.” Then his gaze sharpened, flicking between them. “Wait. Why the emergency gathering? Spill.”

Namjoon didn’t even let Taehyung speak. “Taehyung imprinted on an Alpha.”

“WHAT?” Jimin’s eyes went comically wide. “And you didn’t lead with that? Details, now!”

“It’s not—” Taehyung started, then sighed. “I didn’t imprint. Something weird happened, but…”

“You described it perfectly,” Namjoon said gently. “It sounds exactly like imprinting.”

Jimin dropped onto the couch beside Namjoon, grabbing Taehyung’s hand and tugging until he sat between them. His expression turned serious—an unusual look on Jimin. “Tae. That moment when his scent hit you full force… what did your wolf say?”

Taehyung froze.

He hadn’t wanted to admit it, even to himself. But the word had been there, unmistakable, rumbling possessively through every fiber of his being the instant Jungkook’s true scent enveloped him.

Jimin squeezed his hand. “Tell us.”

Taehyung’s voice came out barely above a whisper. “Mine.”

Namjoon and Jimin exchanged a long look.

“Mine,” Taehyung repeated, softer still, cheeks burning. “My Alpha.”

Jimin’s face broke into a radiant smile. He squeezed Taehyung’s hand tighter.

“Congratulations, Tae. You found him. Your Alpha.”

Taehyung shook his head, pulling his hand away to bury his face in both palms. “No. That’s insane. I don’t even know him. We’ve spoken for maybe an hour total. My wolf can’t just decide he’s mine based on one second of real scent. It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Namjoon said quietly. “It’s biology. Rare, beautiful, and apparently determined to ignore your logical protests.”

Jimin leaned against his shoulder, voice gentle. “Your wolf recognized something your head isn’t ready to accept yet. That’s okay. It doesn’t make it less real.”

Taehyung stayed silent, staring at the floor. The phantom scent was still there, faint but persistent, curling comfortingly at the edges of his awareness. Warm cedar. Rain-soaked earth.

Safety.

He didn’t know Jungkook.
But something deep inside him already did.

***

The next morning arrived too quickly, sunlight filtering through Taehyung’s thin curtains and pulling him from a night of restless, fragmented sleep.

Fragments of warm cedar and wet earth had haunted his dreams, slipping away each time he reached for them. The memory of it lingered like a bruise—tender, impossible to ignore.

His first class of the day was contemporary dance technique, the one he’d been most looking forward to. Jungkook would almost certainly be there; they shared the same major, after all. Taehyung told himself it didn’t matter. He would simply attend the class, focus on the movement, and pretend nothing had changed. Easy.

On the walk across campus, still half-lost in his own thoughts, he accidentally bumped shoulders with someone coming the opposite way. The impact was light, barely more than a brush, but the Alpha’s scent—sharp pine and something aggressively smoky—flared in response.

“Oh,” the stranger drawled, turning with a slow, predatory grin. “Is that an invitation?”

Taehyung blinked, irritation rising instantly. He was not in the mood. “What?”

“That scent of yours,” the Alpha continued, leaning in a fraction. “Are you trying to seduce me, little Omega?”

Taehyung exhaled sharply through his nose and stepped around him. “I don’t have time for this bullshit.”

He kept walking, faster now, unease prickling at the back of his neck. His suppressants had always worked before—well enough to dull the bright strawberry sweetness of his natural fragrance into something soft and unremarkable.

But today that Alpha had noticed.

Which meant the medication was losing its edge… or something else was making his scent bleed through. He pushed the thought away. He didn’t want to consider what that something else might be.

The studio was already half-full when he arrived. A cluster of Omegas stretched together near the mirrors, laughing quietly. A few Betas warmed up in the center of the room.

And there, in the far corner by the barre, was Jungkook—alone. He was bent forward in a deep stretch, forehead nearly touching his knees, dark hair falling across his eyes. His scent was its usual faint whisper, barely reaching across the room, but Taehyung caught it anyway, and his stomach twisted.

He hesitated in the doorway, bag still slung over his shoulder. Every instinct urged him to cross the floor, to sit close, to let that muted cedar-earth fragrance settle over him like a blanket.

Instead he forced himself to the opposite side of the room, dropping his bag with more force than necessary and beginning his warm-up facing resolutely away.

Don’t look at him. Just focus on class.

But his eyes betrayed him, flicking toward the mirrors again and again. Jungkook moved through his stretches with quiet precision, graceful in a way that felt entirely natural, unforced. No one approached him. No one even looked his way for long.

Why is this happening to me? Taehyung thought desperately, pressing his palms harder into the floor as he stretched. It’s not possible. I can’t be imprinted on someone I barely know.

The professor arrived—a tall, no-nonsense woman with a sharp gaze and a voice that carried easily over the low hum of conversation.

“Good morning, everyone. Today we welcome a new student: Taehyung. Please make him feel part of the group.” She paused, scanning the room.

“And speaking of integration—today you’ll choose your partner for the end-of-semester duet project. Omega with Beta, Omega with Omega, Beta with Beta… or Alpha, if both parties agree.” Her eyes lingered briefly on Jungkook as she said it, tone neutral but pointed. “Gender doesn’t matter. Mutual consent does.”

The room stirred into motion. Names were called out, pairs formed quickly—friends sticking together, familiar partnerships rekindling from previous semesters. A couple of Betas approached Taehyung almost immediately, smiling, offering polite introductions.

He barely heard them. His gaze kept drifting, inexorably, to the lone figure still stretching quietly in the corner. No one had gone near Jungkook.

“Taehyung?” the professor prompted after a minute, eyebrows raised. “Have you chosen a partner?”

The words left his mouth before his brain caught up. “Jungkook,” Taehyung said clearly, voice steady despite the sudden rush of blood in his ears. “I choose Jungkook.”

A ripple of surprise moved through the room—quiet, but unmistakable. A few heads turned.

Jungkook’s own head snapped up, dark eyes wide as they met Taehyung’s across the studio. For a moment the faint trace of his scent flickered, warming almost imperceptibly, carrying the tiniest hint of startled rain-soaked cedar.

Taehyung couldn’t look away.
He didn’t want to.

Chapter Text

The professor nodded as she jotted down their names on her clipboard, moving on to the remaining students without comment. The room buzzed with low conversation, pairs shifting closer to discuss ideas or negotiate roles. Taehyung felt the weight of curious—and sometimes openly judgmental—glances settling on them like dust.

A Beta he didn’t recognize sidled up, voice pitched low but not low enough. “Hey, you sure about that Alpha? Not saying he can’t move, but… you could do better for your grade, you know.”

Taehyung didn’t even turn his head. He simply shouldered his bag and crossed the studio in deliberate strides until he stood in front of Jungkook, who had remained in his quiet corner, dark eyes fixed on him since the moment his name had left Taehyung’s lips.

“Hi,” Taehyung said, softer now that the space between them was only a few feet.

Jungkook’s gaze dropped immediately to the floor. “…Hi.”

The air around them felt thick, charged with the whispers and sidelong looks from the rest of the class.

Taehyung forced a light tone, hoping to cut through some of the tension. “So? Ready to give it everything? Fair warning—I want an A on this project.”

Jungkook’s shoulders rose and fell in a small, uncertain breath. “You should probably pick a Beta,” he murmured, barely audible over the background noise.

“No thanks.” Taehyung’s reply came quicker than he intended, edged with something sharper. “Their scents make me nauseous.”

Jungkook’s brows drew together in quiet confusion. “Betas don’t really… scent that strongly, though.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Taehyung shrugged, already moving toward the barre to drop his water bottle. “Anyway—warm-up first, then we try a few steps after?”

Jungkook hesitated, fingers tightening around the hem of his loose black t-shirt. “Taehyung… are you sure you want to stay paired with me? The others are going to—”

“I don’t care what the others do or think,” Taehyung cut in, turning to face him fully. His voice was firm, almost fierce. “And you should stop caring too, Jungkook.”

For one breathless second, it happened again.

Jungkook’s scent bloomed—sudden, rich, unmistakable. Warm cedar flooded the space between them. It was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, retreating back into its familiar faint whisper, but the effect on Taehyung was immediate and devastating.

His chest tightened; a soft, contented rumble stirred low in his throat that he barely managed to swallow. His inner wolf practically purred, satisfied and eager.

He prayed Jungkook hadn’t noticed.

“Alright,” the professor called out, clapping once for attention. “Ten minutes to warm up on your own. After that, we’ll run basic partner exercises. Decide between yourselves who will be the flyer and who will be the base.”

Taehyung exhaled slowly, trying to steady the sudden rush in his bloodstream. “I’m guessing I’ll be the flyer,” he said, aiming for casual. “You look a little too solid for me to lift comfortably.”

Jungkook nodded without protest. “If that’s what you want.”

Taehyung huffed, half-laugh, half-exasperation. “If me being your partner actually bothers you, just say it.”

“What? No—” Jungkook’s eyes widened, a faint flush rising on his cheeks. “It’s not that. It’s just… I don’t know.”

“Then ignore them,” Taehyung said quietly, stepping a little closer, voice dropping so only Jungkook could hear. “Look at me instead, yeah? I’m counting on you to be good at this.”

Something shifted in Jungkook’s expression—surprise, then something softer, almost wondering. The corner of his mouth lifted in the first real smile Taehyung had seen from him all day, small, shy, but genuine. It lit his whole face in a way that made Taehyung’s heart stumble over itself.

He has such a beautiful smile, Taehyung thought, the realization hitting him.

They moved to an empty spot near the mirrors to begin their warm-up, side by side but not yet touching. The rest of the class faded into background noise. For now, there was only the quiet rhythm of their breathing, the faint lingering trace of cedar and rain, and the slow, inevitable pull drawing Taehyung closer with every passing second.

***

After the warm-up, the professor clapped her hands again, drawing everyone’s attention to the center of the studio.

“We’ll start with simple partner exercises,” she announced. “A series of basic lifts, holds, and weight-sharing sequences. The goal today isn’t perfection—it’s familiarity. Learn how your partner moves, how they balance, how they breathe. Trust is the foundation of every duet.”

The pairs spread out, giving each other space. Music began to play—something slow and lyrical, a modern piece with a steady, pulsing beat that seemed to echo the sudden thrum in Taehyung’s chest.

Jungkook, to Taehyung’s quiet surprise, moved with complete assurance when he danced alone.

His lines were clean, his extensions controlled, every step placed with a precision that spoke of years spent honing his craft in solitude. There was a natural strength in his frame, a quiet power that became visible the moment he let the music guide him.

But the instant contact entered the equation—the moment his hands needed to settle on Taehyung’s waist, ribs, or thighs—everything changed.

His touch became hesitant, fingers hovering a fraction too long before committing, grip careful to the point of fragility. The lifts were shaky; Jungkook’s arms trembled slightly under Taehyung’s weight, not from lack of strength but from an obvious fear of doing something wrong.

They wobbled out of holds too early, steps falling out of sync. To Taehyung, whose body was used to precision and harmony, it felt like dancing with a ghost of the partner he knew Jungkook could be.

Frustration flickered in his chest—not at Jungkook,  but at the imperfection itself. He wanted this project to be flawless. More than that, he wanted Jungkook to feel flawless.

Between attempts, while the rest of the class continued around them, Taehyung stepped close and kept his voice low, gentle. “Jungkook, be more certain when you lift me. It doesn’t have to be perfect yet, but it can’t be hesitant. You move so beautifully on your own—don’t let me throw you off. Use that same confidence. You’re strong. I know you can carry me the way you carry yourself when you dance. Okay?”

Jungkook’s eyes flicked up to meet his, wide and uncertain, a faint flush rising on his cheeks. His subdued scent wavered, carrying the tiniest spike of warmth.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I’ve… I’ve never really danced with anyone before.” He swallowed, voice even quieter. “Am I hurting you? Tell me if I’m touching somewhere I shouldn’t.”

The raw honesty in the question caught Taehyung off guard. Heat flooded his face; for a moment he could only manage a soft, slightly strangled “Mhm.”

Jungkook nodded, taking a slow breath, and tried again.

This time the difference was immediate. His hands settled more firmly—still careful, still respectful, but no longer timid. When he lifted Taehyung into the first simple cradle hold, his arms locked steady, core engaged, guiding him through the air with a control that felt almost protective.

Their bodies aligned closer than before, chest brushing chest on the descent, Jungkook’s breath warm against Taehyung’s neck as he set him down. The mini-choreography demanded proximity—shared weight, mirrored turns, moments where their faces hovered inches apart.

And with that closeness came the scent.

It didn’t flare dramatically this time; it simply deepened. The faint, incomplete whisper Taehyung had grown used to thickened into something richer, more present—rain-damp earth and warm cedar curling around him like tendrils of smoke, wrapping him up until it was all he could breathe. His own strawberry sweetness, already harder to contain since yesterday, responded helplessly, blooming brighter despite the suppressants.

He prayed no one else noticed.

He prayed Jungkook didn’t notice the way his pulse raced under those steady hands, or the way his skin prickled wherever they touched.

Each successful lift, each synchronized step, sent quiet satisfaction humming through Taehyung’s inner wolf.

***

By the end of the exercise, they were both breathing harder—not just from exertion, but from the unspoken electricity threading between them.

Jungkook’s hands lingered a fraction longer than strictly necessary when he lowered Taehyung the final time, as if reluctant to let go entirely.
Taehyung didn’t mind. Not even a little.

As the class drew to a close, the professor moved methodically from pair to pair, clipboard in hand, offering brief but thoughtful feedback based on the notes she’d taken throughout the session.

Taehyung and Jungkook waited their turn on the edge of the floor, sitting side by side on the polished wood. Their shoulders were close enough that the sleeves of their shirts occasionally brushed; Taehyung’s knee rested only inches from Jungkook’s. He didn’t notice how much he craved that small proximity until a subtle warmth settled in his chest from it—like a quiet, instinctive need for nearness he hadn’t asked for and couldn’t yet name.

When the professor finally called them over, her expression was approving.

“Taehyung, Jungkook—well done,” she said, voice warm. “You already have a strong foundation. Your partnership works; there’s real chemistry on the floor, and it’s clear you both love what you’re doing. I’m genuinely pleased with what I saw today. Keep building that trust, and you’ll only get better. You’re free to go change.”

Taehyung’s face broke into a bright, relieved smile. “Thank you, Professor!”

He turned immediately to Jungkook, eyes shining with quiet pride. “See? I told you. You dance too well for anyone to doubt it.”

Jungkook ducked his head, cheeks tinting pink, the faintest trace of his subdued cedar-earth scent warming in response. “Th-thank you, Taehyung,” he said softly. “And… thank you for giving me a chance.”

The words were so earnest, so carefully offered, that something in Taehyung’s chest twisted.

Without thinking, he reached out and closed his fingers around Jungkook’s hand—warm skin against warm skin, a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“You deserve it,” he said quietly, meaning every word. “You really do.”

For a moment Jungkook simply stared at their joined hands, eyes wide with something unreadable—surprise, uncertainty, perhaps the beginnings of wonder. Taehyung followed his gaze a second later, realization crashing over him like cold water.

His hand was in Jungkook’s. He’d taken it without permission, without even noticing.

Heat flooded his face. He pulled back abruptly, shifting away on the floor as if the small distance could erase the last ten seconds.

“I—uh—I’m going to change,” he stammered, already rising. “See you tomorrow.”

He didn’t wait for a reply, hurrying toward the door with his heart hammering against his ribs, the ghost of Jungkook’s warmth still lingering on his palm.

Behind him, Jungkook remained seated for a moment longer, staring at his own hand as though it belonged to someone else.

“…See you tomorrow,” he whispered to the empty space Taehyung had left behind.

_____________________________

Jungkook pushed open the door to his small off-campus apartment, the faint echo of music from the studio still ringing in his ears.

Dance class had been his only commitment for the day, and now that it was over, the quiet felt both relieving and strangely empty. He dropped his bag by the entrance, kicked off his shoes, and headed straight for the bathroom.

A shower was necessary—sweat from the lifts lingered on his skin, but more than that, he needed the hot water to wash away the lingering confusion that had settled over him like a second layer of clothing.

As the steam filled the tiny space and water drummed against his shoulders, his mind circled back—inevitably—to Taehyung.

He still couldn’t quite believe it. Out of everyone in that class, Taehyung had chosen him. Him. The quiet one in the corner. The one everyone called fake, weak, broken.

Taehyung was… different.

Bright in a way that went beyond looks—though Jungkook couldn’t deny he was beautiful, sharp jawline softened by gentle eyes, expressive features that lit up when he smiled, a body that seemed made for the fluidity of dance. Charismatic without trying, fearless in the face of stares and whispers. An Omega who carried himself like he belonged exactly where he was.

And he hadn’t flinched at Jungkook’s near-nonexistent scent. Hadn’t wrinkled his nose or pulled away. If anything, he’d leaned closer—encouraging, patient, even praising him in that soft, steady voice that somehow made Jungkook’s chest feel too tight.

At first Jungkook had assumed it was pity.

But today, on the floor, something had shifted.

Their bodies had found a rhythm together with surprising ease, Taehyung’s weight trusting in his hands, his own steps adjusting instinctively to the lighter, more fluid way Taehyung moved.

When Taehyung had told him—gently, but firmly—to be more confident, to trust his own strength, Jungkook had felt something inside him respond before his mind could catch up. His arms had steadied. The lifts had smoothed. And for those few minutes, dancing hadn’t felt like something he did alone in the dark—it had felt like partnership.

Taehyung’s scent had been stronger today, too.

Still muted by suppressants, but the soft strawberry sweetness had bled through more than yesterday, warm, bright, with that underlying creaminess that made Jungkook’s mouth water in a way he didn’t understand.

It wasn’t overwhelming or demanding; it was… comforting. Like stepping into sunlight after too long in shadow. He worried, though. This campus wasn’t kind to Omegas whose scents slipped through the cracks.

Too many Alphas here carried entitlement like a second skin, ready to pounce on any perceived invitation. Taehyung should be more careful.

The thought tightened something protective in Jungkook’s gut—an instinct he rarely felt, and never this sharply.

He turned off the water and stood under the cooling air for a moment, towel draped around his hips. Since yesterday, his wolf had stirred more times than it had in months.

A sudden flare when he’d shielded Taehyung from the paint. A quiet warmth when Taehyung defended him in the hallway. That brief, involuntary surge during the lifts today, when Taehyung’s body had been close and trusting in his arms. His wolf—usually so dormant, so resigned—kept lifting its head, ears pricked, as if listening for something just out of reach.

And then there had been that moment at the end, Taehyung’s hand wrapping around his, warm and sure, the soft words “You deserve it” landing like a balm on old wounds. Jungkook had frozen, staring at their joined fingers, afraid to move in case it broke whatever fragile spell had brought them there.

When Taehyung had pulled away so suddenly, face flushed, hurrying out with a rushed goodbye, Jungkook’s heart had dropped.

He’d probably overstepped. Made Taehyung uncomfortable. Ruined it before it even began.

But beneath the familiar wave of self-doubt, something quieter persisted. Hope, maybe. The tentative idea that, for once, someone might actually want him nearby—not out of obligation or pity, but because they saw something worth staying for.

Taehyung felt safe. Encouraging. Real.

Jungkook dried his hair, pulled on comfortable clothes, and sat on the edge of his bed in the dim light of his single lamp. He wanted to try. Really try.

To let himself believe that friendship with Taehyung might be possible. That someone could look at him—at the quiet, “broken” Alpha—and choose to stay anyway.

***

The next morning, Jungkook arrived on campus earlier than usual, nerves twisting in his stomach like a knot he couldn’t untie.

He hadn’t slept well—replaying that fleeting hand-hold in the studio, wondering if he’d imagined the warmth in Taehyung’s eyes or if he’d somehow crossed an invisible line. All he knew was that he needed to see him today. To gauge if Taehyung was angry, regretful, or—if he dared hope—still willing to look at him without discomfort.

He kept his head down as he crossed the main walkway, shoulders hunched against the chill and the inevitable stares. His scent stayed tucked tightly inside him, as always.

“Hey! Loser!”

Jungkook exhaled slowly, steeling himself before turning toward the voice. Three Alphas lounged against the side of the arts building, the same ones who’d thrown the paint yesterday. The ringleader—a broad-shouldered guy with a sharp, aggressive pine-heavy scent—grinned unpleasantly.

“So,” he drawled, pushing off the wall, “heard an Omega actually picked you for the duet project. You must be thrilled, huh? Finally getting some attention?”

Jungkook didn’t answer. He turned to leave, steps quickening, but a rough hand clamped around his arm, yanking him back. Then fingers fisted in his collar, pulling him close enough that the other Alpha’s hot breath brushed his face.

“You don’t get to steal Omegas,” the guy snarled, voice low and venomous. “You don’t deserve them.”

Before Jungkook could react—before the familiar shame and resignation could fully settle—a sharp crack split the air.

The Alpha staggered back, hand flying to his jaw where a fresh red mark bloomed. Shock widened his eyes.

Jungkook whirled around.

Taehyung stood there, chest rising and falling quickly, fist still half-raised. Without hesitation he stepped forward, sliding his hand down to gently but firmly grasp Jungkook’s arm—the same arm the bully had grabbed moments ago. His touch was entirely different, fingers curling in a way that felt protective rather than possessive.

“What the hell is your problem?” Taehyung’s voice was steady, edged with ice.

The Alpha rubbed his jaw, glaring past Jungkook to fix on Taehyung. His gaze sharpened, nostrils flaring as he caught the soft strawberry sweetness drifting from him—stronger today, less restrained.

“So you’re the Omega in question. Figures.”

Taehyung let out a sharp, incredulous huff. “Listen, you absolute idiot—if what Jungkook does bothers you this much, maybe ask yourself why. You sound like a jealous ex.”

“Jealous?” The Alpha barked a laugh, but it lacked conviction. “Of that pathetic Alpha?”

“At this point,” Taehyung said coolly, “it’s not even jealousy anymore. It’s just sad.”

The guy’s face darkened. “And you? Why would a pretty Omega like you pick a defective Alpha?”

Taehyung’s grip on Jungkook’s arm tightened slightly—not painfully, but grounding. “Because he’s nothing like you. You disgust me. Even your scent is repulsive.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. Turning sharply, Taehyung tugged Jungkook along with him, walking away without another glance back. Jungkook followed, legs moving automatically, mind reeling.

They rounded the corner into a quieter courtyard before Taehyung finally slowed, releasing his arm but staying close.

Jungkook stared at him, throat tight. He didn’t know what to say. No one had ever stepped in for him like that—not with words, not with fists, not with unwavering certainty. His wolf stirred again, quiet but alert, as if listening to something only it could hear.

Taehyung exhaled, flexing the hand he’d used to punch the guy, cheeks still faintly flushed with anger. Then his eyes met Jungkook’s—golden-brown and fierce and suddenly unsure.

“You okay?” Taehyung asked, voice softer now.

Jungkook could only nod, the words stuck somewhere behind the sudden, overwhelming warmth spreading through his chest.

Taehyung’s heart was still pounding long after the bully had disappeared around the corner. The courtyard felt suddenly too quiet. He shifted his weight, glancing anywhere but directly at Jungkook.

“Well… uh… I—I have class soon, so… I should go.”

He took one step away, then immediately turned back, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “Are you sure you’re okay? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

Without thinking, he reached for Jungkook’s wrist—the same one that had been grabbed so roughly moments ago—and lifted it gently, turning it over to check for marks. His thumb brushed lightly over the skin, slow circles that weren’t just inspection.

They were deliberate.

Jungkook’s pulse beat steady and quick beneath his touch. “I’m fine…” he said quietly, voice soft with something that sounded like wonder. “Thanks to you, Taehyung.”

Taehyung’s gaze lingered on the wrist in his hand, and only then did the realization hit him like ice water.

He was scenting him.

His own scent gland at the inside of his wrist was pressed firmly against Jungkook’s skin, rubbing slow, instinctive passes that released the bright, sun-ripened strawberry sweetness he usually kept locked down. It wasn’t subtle. It was possessive—his wolf marking what it had already decided was his.

Panic surged hot and sudden.

“Okay—I really have to go now,” he blurted, releasing Jungkook’s hand as if it burned. He backed away quickly, cheeks flaming. “See you later!”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He practically fled, ducking into the nearest building and beelining for the restrooms. Locking himself in a stall, he leaned against the cool tile wall, breathing hard, and pulled out his phone with shaking fingers.

Jimin answered on the second ring.
“Yeah?”

“Jimin,” Taehyung whispered frantically, “I just punched a guy for him. And then—then I scented him. Without even realizing it. I was rubbing my wrist all over his like some possessive idiot, and I didn’t stop until I noticed. I think… I think you and Namjoon were right. I—”

“Tae, breathe,” Jimin said, calm and amused all at once. “It’s okay. It’s normal. But listen—your wolf is going to get greedy now, you know that, right? He’s tasted proximity. He’s going to want more. A lot more. He might even push your heats early if you keep holding back.”

“No.” Taehyung closed his eyes, sliding down until he sat on the closed toilet lid. “Jungkook isn’t ready for any of this.”

Jimin let out a soft laugh. “You’re already overprotecting him. It’s adorable.”

“Shut up,” Taehyung muttered, but there was no heat in it. “I… fine. Maybe I like him. But my wolf is scaring me. He just—takes over when Jungkook’s around. I don’t give him permission, he just does things. I don’t want to move too fast and freak him out.”

“I’m pretty damn sure he’s interested too,” Jimin said gently. “He’s not going to run.”

“I’m not the type to rush anything.”

“And what are you going to do,” Jimin asked, voice turning teasing, “when he goes into rut and spends it without you? Maybe even with someone else…?”

A low, involuntary growl rumbled in Taehyung’s throat—deep, possessive, entirely beyond his control.

Jimin burst out laughing on the other end. “Oh my god. I see exactly what you mean about your wolf acting on his own. He’s completely hooked.”

“Don’t remind me…” Taehyung groaned, dropping his forehead into his free hand.

The phantom warmth of Jungkook’s wrist still lingered on his own skin, and the memory of that faint cedar-earth scent—stronger for just a moment when he’d touched him—made his chest ache with want.

He was in deep.
And getting deeper by the minute.

Chapter Text

The rest of the day dragged on like a nightmare.

Everywhere Taehyung went, Alphas materialized—leaning in too close in hallways, striking up pointless conversations in the cafeteria line, their scents sharpening with obvious interest as they caught the bright, unguarded sweetness drifting from him.

His suppressants, usually reliable enough to keep him under the radar, had apparently given up entirely after that impulsive scenting on Jungkook’s wrist.

The strawberry fragrance, bloomed freely now, impossible to rein in. He felt exposed, hunted, irritated beyond words.

By the time late afternoon rolled around, he seriously considered skipping contemporary dance—the last class of the day, and the one place he both wanted and dreaded to be.

The thought of Jungkook noticing, of that quiet cedar-earth scent reacting to his own uncontrolled one, made his stomach knot with embarrassment.

But the upcoming recital loomed too large, missing a rehearsal wasn’t an option. Not when grades and performance slots were on the line.

At least, he told himself on the walk to the studio, Jungkook was the only Alpha in the class. Betas might notice, might glance over with mild curiosity, but they wouldn’t swarm him the way the others had all day. It would be manageable.

He slipped into the studio a few minutes early, hoping to claim a quiet corner and start stretching before anyone paid too much attention.

No such luck.

Several Betas warming up near the mirrors turned almost in unison, eyes widening slightly, subtle flushes rising on cheeks. A couple smiled a little too warmly. One even drifted closer before seeming to catch himself.

Great, Taehyung thought, dropping his bag with a quiet thud. My scent is really that obvious now.
The suppressants are completely useless. He needed stronger ones—fast.

He kept his head down, focusing on his stretches, trying to will his fragrance into submission through sheer stubbornness. It didn’t work.

The door opened again a minute later, and Jungkook stepped in—hair slightly tousled from the wind outside, dance bag slung over one shoulder. He scanned the room briefly, spotted Taehyung, and made his way over with that same careful, unassuming stride.

“Hi,” Jungkook said softly, stopping a respectful distance away and offering a small, hesitant smile.

“Hi,” Taehyung replied, managing to keep his voice steady even as his pulse jumped.

To his relief, Jungkook didn’t seem to react strangely—no widened eyes, no flared nostrils, no sudden tension. Just the same quiet warmth as yesterday.

They fell into their usual warm-up routine side by side, the familiar rhythm almost soothing—until the professor clapped for attention.

“Alright, everyone,” she called, moving to the center of the room. “Today I want closeness. Real closeness. I want to see intimacy in your movement, the kind of trust and chemistry that reads from the back row. Don’t be shy—use the space between you. Draw the audience in.”

Taehyung exhaled a slow, silent sigh.

Of course. Of all days, it had to be this one.

He glanced sideways at Jungkook, who was rolling his shoulders loose, expression focused but calm.

Accepting the imprint, had shifted something inside Taehyung overnight.

His wolf no longer pretended to be patient; it paced restlessly beneath his skin, greedy for proximity, for touch, for that faint cedar-earth scent it had already decided belonged to them.

And now his own fragrance was broadcasting loud and clear, sweet and inviting, impossible to hide.
Close partnership work. On the day his control was at its weakest.

This was going to be torture.

The music started—a slow, sensual piece with a deep bass line that seemed to vibrate straight through the floor. Around them, pairs moved into position. Taehyung turned toward Jungkook, meeting his eyes for the first time since entering the studio.

Jungkook’s gaze was steady, waiting.

Taehyung swallowed, stepped in closer than strictly necessary, and let the music pull them both under.

Taehyung’s silent plea echoed inside his own head like a desperate prayer.

Please, don’t do anything stupid.

But his wolf wasn’t listening.

It was awake, alert, and utterly fixated on the Alpha standing right in front of him—quiet, steady Jungkook, whose subdued scent had already begun to warm in response to the proximity they were about to share.

The music swelled, wrapping around the studio like velvet. The professor’s voice faded into the background: “Feel each other. Breathe together. Let the audience see the connection.”

Jungkook’s hands found Taehyung’s waist first, fingers settling lightly, then firming as the sequence began. Taehyung shivered despite himself, a ripple that started at the points of contact and spread outward in helpless waves.

The touch was meant to be professional, choreographed, but every brush of skin felt electric. Jungkook’s palms slid along his ribs as he guided him into a slow turn, bodies aligning back-to-chest, Jungkook’s breath warm against the nape of Taehyung’s neck.

Their scents mingled in the small space between them: sweet, ripe strawberry blooming helplessly against the deepening note of rain-soaked cedar that Jungkook could no longer fully suppress.

They moved through the phrases with increasing closeness. A low dip where Jungkook supported Taehyung’s full weight as he arched backward, chest to chest, faces inches apart—close enough that Taehyung could see the faint flush rising on Jungkook’s cheeks, the way his dark eyes flickered with something unsure but unwavering.

A shared turn where their foreheads nearly brushed, breaths syncing without permission.

Jungkook’s hands skimmed down Taehyung’s arms to lace their fingers briefly, guiding him into a spiraling descent that brought their bodies flush for one suspended heartbeat.

Every point of contact burned.

Taehyung’s skin felt too sensitive, every slide of Jungkook’s palms along his waist, his hips, the backs of his thighs leaving trails of heat he couldn’t ignore. His wolf purred low and satisfied, greedy for more.

His own scent poured out in response—rich, intoxicating strawberry sweetness that filled the air around them, no longer even pretending to be restrained.

He prayed the music covered the soft, involuntary sound that escaped his throat when Jungkook’s fingers pressed just beneath his ribs to steady a balance.

And then came the lift that made time slow to a crawl.

Jungkook stepped in close, hands moving with quiet certainty to the backs of Taehyung’s calves. A gentle but firm grip, a bend of knees, and Taehyung was lifted smoothly—legs draped over Jungkook’s forearms, body arched slightly backward in the simple but deeply intimate carry.

For a moment they held it, Taehyung suspended, trusting completely, Jungkook’s strength steady and unshaking beneath him.

Then the controlled descent began.

Jungkook lowered him slowly—agonizingly slowly—letting Taehyung’s body slide down the front of his own. First the calves gliding along Jungkook’s forearms. Then his thighs brushing against Jungkook’s chest. His hips dragging over Jungkook’s waist, the friction deliberate and unavoidable. Stomach to stomach. Chest to chest—heartbeats thudding against each other through thin layers of clothing.

Finally, as Taehyung’s feet neared the floor, their faces passed within mere millimeters, noses almost touching, lips a whisper apart, breaths mingling hot and unsteady.

Taehyung’s eyes locked with Jungkook’s.

For one endless second, the world narrowed to that almost-contact—the warmth of Jungkook’s exhale ghosting over his lips, the subtle flare of cedar and earth that suddenly flooded the space between them, richer and more present than Taehyung had ever smelled it.

Jungkook’s pupils were blown wide, dark and startled. Taehyung’s own strawberry scent surged in answer, sweet and desperate, wrapping around them both like an embrace.

His wolf growled softly—possessive, triumphant, starving.

Jungkook’s hands lingered at Taehyung’s waist even after his feet touched the floor, as if neither of them could quite remember how to let go.

The music continued around them, but in that breath-held moment, neither moved.

Taehyung wasn’t sure his legs would hold him if Jungkook did release him.

“Taehyung… are you okay? You’re trembling…”

The words pulled Taehyung out of the haze he’d fallen into, his vision refocusing on Jungkook’s face—far too close, eyes wide with genuine concern, brows drawn together in quiet worry.

The lift had ended moments ago, but they hadn’t moved apart. Jungkook’s hands were still at his waist, steadying him, thumbs resting just above the curve of his hips.

“What?” Taehyung blinked, voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re shaking,” Jungkook repeated softly, his own breath a little uneven. “And your scent… it’s different. Stronger..”

This is really my Alpha, he thought, the certainty settling deep in his bones like a warm, unbreakable truth.

There was no doubt left.

Not after that dance.

Not after the way their bodies had moved together, the way Jungkook’s scent had finally, truly answered his.

The professor’s voice cut through the air before he could respond. “Very good you too.” she said, approaching with an approving smile that bordered on awe. “That was splendid. Your chemistry is incredible—raw, honest, magnetic. Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.”

Taehyung managed a weak, automatic “Thank you… I think…”

She nodded, already turning toward another pair. “Continue like that.”

Jungkook didn’t look away from him. “Taehyung… are you sure you’re okay?”

“I—”

No. He wasn’t.

It wasn’t just the lingering heat from the dance, or embarrassment, or even the overwhelming pull of Jungkook’s closeness. It was deeper. Physical.

Urgent.

His scent wasn’t just stronger. It had shifted—sweetness turning heavier, warmer, laced with something unmistakably needy. His skin felt too tight, too sensitive. A low ache had started low in his belly, familiar and dreaded.

His heat was coming.

Not in a few weeks, like it should have.

Right now.

Triggered by the intimacy of that dance, by Jungkook’s hands on his body, by the way their scents had tangled and claimed each other without permission.

And Jungkook had noticed the shift before anyone else.

“Taehyung?” Jungkook’s voice was quieter now, laced with growing alarm.

Taehyung swallowed, leaning slightly into the hands still at his waist because letting go entirely felt impossible. “Can you… take me home?” he asked, the words coming out small. “I don’t want to walk alone across campus like this.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened further. “W-what do you mean?”

He really doesn’t know, Taehyung realized. He’d caught the change in scent, but hadn’t connected it yet.

“I think…” Taehyung exhaled shakily. “My heat’s starting. Early. Really early.”

“Oh.”

The single syllable hung between them—surprised, soft, not disgusted. Jungkook’s face flushed deeply, but he didn’t pull away.

If anything, his grip tightened just slightly—protective, grounding.

Without another word, he released Taehyung only long enough to jog over to the professor, speaking quickly and quietly. She nodded immediately, waving them off with understanding. Jungkook was back in seconds.

“We can go,” he said, voice low but firm. “Just… guide me.”

Taehyung managed a small, grateful smile despite the warmth creeping up his neck and the way his legs already felt unsteady. His wolf was quiet now—not restless or demanding, but deeply, dangerously content.

He reached out and curled his fingers around Jungkook’s forearm, holding on for balance as much as for comfort.

Jungkook didn’t hesitate. He adjusted his arm so Taehyung could lean on him more fully, and together they slipped out of the studio—away from curious glances.

Taehyung didn’t know what would happen when they reached his apartment.

_______________________________________

Taehyung was in heat.

The realization settled over Jungkook like a slow wave, explaining everything, the way Taehyung’s scent had shifted during their dance—sweet strawberry turning deeper, heavier, almost intoxicating, wrapping around him until it was all he could focus on.

It had pulled at something inside him he didn’t fully understand, making his own subdued fragrance stir in ways it rarely did.

***

The walk to Taehyung’s apartment passed in near silence. Taehyung clung to his arm the entire way, fingers tight, body pressed close whenever another Alpha’s scent drifted too near on the campus paths.

Jungkook didn’t pull away. He couldn’t have, even if he’d wanted to.

The contact felt… necessary.

Protective.

Right in a way that confused him.

He was surprised that Taehyung had asked him, of all people, to bring him home.

An Alpha whose scent barely registered, who everyone dismissed as defective. Yet Taehyung had chosen him without hesitation.

Inside the apartment, Jungkook helped Taehyung to the couch, careful as he lowered him onto the cushions. He took a quick glance around, the space was small but thoughtfully decorated—soft neutrals, warm lighting, a few framed dance posters and potted plants that made it feel lived-in and welcoming. Comfortable. Like Taehyung himself.

“You should lock the door behind me, okay?” Jungkook said, stepping back toward the entrance. “I’ll go now.”

But Taehyung’s hand shot out, catching his wrist in a grip that was surprisingly firm despite the flush on his cheeks and the slight tremor in his fingers.

“Stay,” Taehyung said, voice quiet but pleading. “I hate being alone during this. It hurts too much. Usually my best friend—an Omega—stays with me, but… it came on so suddenly, and…”

“I’ll stay,” Jungkook interrupted, the words leaving his mouth before he could second-guess them.
He blinked, surprised at his own certainty.

Seeing Taehyung like this, tugged at something deep and protective in his chest.

He knew that kind of ache too well. His own ruts were isolating, painful things, spent alone because no one ever wanted to be near an Alpha who couldn’t even scent properly.

“What can I do?” he asked, keeping his tone gentle. “Do you need anything?”

“I want a nest,” Taehyung murmured, already pushing himself up from the couch with visible effort. “I’m going to make one.”

“O-okay…” Jungkook nodded, unsure. “And… what should I do?”

“Just stay close.”

Jungkook acquiesced without protest. He slipped off his shoes and jacket, leaving them by the door, then followed Taehyung down the short hallway to the bedroom with hesitant steps.

The room was softly lit, bed unmade from the morning, a few scattered clothes and blankets hinting at Taehyung’s rushed start to the day.

Taehyung moved with focused determination despite the heat clearly affecting him—gathering pillows, pulling extra blankets from a closet, arranging them carefully on the bed into a cozy, circular pile. But every few moments he paused, frowning, adjusting things as if something essential was missing.

Finally he turned to Jungkook, who had lingered awkwardly near the doorway.

Without a word, Taehyung picked up a soft throw blanket from the bed, stepped close, and began rubbing it slowly against Jungkook’s chest and arms.

Jungkook froze, eyes widening.

He stood completely still, breath caught, as Taehyung worked methodically—pressing the fabric along his shoulders, down his torso, even gently against his neck—imprinting his scent onto it with quiet concentration.

The closeness sent Jungkook’s heart racing, Taehyung’s own fragrance—now rich and heavy with heat—washed over him in waves, sweet and dizzying.

When Taehyung seemed satisfied, he returned to the bed and tucked the blanket carefully into the nest. Then, as if it still wasn’t enough, he disappeared briefly into the living room and returned with Jungkook’s discarded jacket, folding it gently and nestling it among the pillows too.

Jungkook didn’t say anything. He knew the biology—how an Alpha’s scent, even a faint one, could soothe an Omega in heat. He’d read about it in passing, heard it dismissed as irrelevant in his own case. But Taehyung wasn’t dismissing it. He was seeking it out. Seeking him.

So Jungkook stayed quiet, letting Taehyung arrange and rearrange until the nest finally seemed to satisfy him. When Taehyung finally climbed into it, curling up among the blankets and pillows that now carried both their scents intertwined, he looked smaller, more fragile—but also calmer.

Jungkook hovered at the edge of the room, unsure where to stand, what to do with his hands.
His wolf—usually so quiet, so hidden—was awake and attentive, pacing just beneath the surface.

After a few minutes of quiet, Taehyung stirred in the nest, lifting his head slightly from the pile of pillows. His voice came out soft, almost fragile, laced with the vulnerability of the heat.

“Jungkook…? Where are you?”

“I’m right here,” Jungkook answered immediately, stepping closer to the edge of the bed from where he’d been hovering awkwardly. “Do you need something—water, or—”

“Come here,” Taehyung murmured, shifting to make a small space among the blankets. “Please.”

Jungkook’s heart stuttered. “In… in your nest?”

“Mhm.”

He hesitated, every instinct warring inside him.

Being invited into an Omega’s nest—especially during heat—wasn’t just intimate, it was profound. Sacred, almost. A level of trust he’d never been offered before.

But Taehyung’s eyes were half-lidded, pleading, and the quiet ache in his voice pulled Jungkook forward like a tether.

Slowly, carefully, he climbed onto the bed and settled behind Taehyung, leaving a respectful few inches between them at first.

The nest was warm, soft, enveloping—blankets and pillows arranged in a perfect circle that now carried both their scents intertwined.

Taehyung’s heat fragrance dominated, thick, ripe strawberry sweetness, heavy with need and comfort, wrapping around Jungkook until his head felt light.

Taehyung shifted backward, closing the small gap himself, until his back pressed gently against Jungkook’s chest. The contact sent a jolt through Jungkook—warm skin through thin clothes, Taehyung’s body fitting against his like it belonged there.

“Could you…” Taehyung’s voice was barely a whisper, hesitant and shy despite the heat driving him. “Could you scent me? It… it hurts less afterward.”

Jungkook froze.

Scenting was deeply personal—glands against skin, pheromones shared deliberately. An act of comfort, protection, sometimes claim.

He’d never done it with anyone.

Never been asked.

But Taehyung had scented him this morning—rubbed his wrist gently along Jungkook’s after the fight, a quiet reassurance that had lingered on his skin all day. A gesture meant to soothe.

Maybe this was the same. Just help. Just care.

Yet the thought twisted something sharp inside him.

How does he know it helps?

Has someone else done this for him before?

The idea hit like a spark to dry tinder. His wolf—usually so quiet, so buried—snapped awake with sudden, fierce intensity.

A low, involuntary growl rumbled in his chest, too soft for Taehyung to hear but impossible to ignore inside his own body.

His scent, long subdued, flared without permission, warm cedar and rain-soaked earth unfurling fully for the first time in years, rich and grounding, flooding the nest in answer to Taehyung’s heat.

Protective.

Possessive.

He didn’t like the thought of anyone else here.

Anyone else’s scent in this nest.

Anyone else’s hands easing Taehyung’s pain.

The realization stunned him—but there was no time to unpack it.

Jungkook shifted closer, careful but deliberate, sliding one arm beneath Taehyung’s neck and wrapping the other gently around his waist.

He pressed his face into the crook of Taehyung’s neck, right where the scent gland pulsed warm and rapid beneath soft skin.

Slowly, instinctively, he rubbed his own gland there, releasing calming pheromones in steady waves.

Taehyung let out a shuddering sigh, body melting back against him, tension easing visibly as the scents mingled, sweet strawberry softening under the weight of cedar and earth.

Jungkook kept going, movements gentle but thorough, until Taehyung’s breathing evened out and the faint tremor in his limbs faded. He didn’t stop even then.

His wolf, now fully awake and alert, had no intention of letting anyone else near.

“Mmm… your scent is so… addictive,” Taehyung murmured, voice low and drowsy, words slipping out as if they’d been waiting on his tongue for hours. “The only one that doesn’t make me feel sick… I love breathing it in.”

Jungkook’s movements stilled completely, his cheek still pressed to the warm curve of Taehyung’s neck. The words sank into him slowly, like sunlight through deep water.

He really means it…?

No one had ever said anything like that about his scent. Most people barely noticed it, many pretended it didn’t exist at all. It had always been too faint, too incomplete, too wrong.

But Taehyung—beautiful, bright, fearless Taehyung—was curled in his arms, breathing him in like he was something precious.

Something necessary.

Before Jungkook could find a response, Taehyung shifted in the nest, turning fully toward him.

Without hesitation or permission, he burrowed closer, pressing his face into the hollow of Jungkook’s throat, arms sliding around his waist.

His body was warm, pliant, completely at ease.

The frantic edge of the heat had softened under the steady flow of Jungkook’s pheromones, now Taehyung simply looked… peaceful.

“Thank you,” Taehyung whispered against his skin, lips brushing faintly with every word. “Thank you for staying, Jungkookie.”

Jungkookie.

The nickname landed soft and sweet, but it struck Jungkook like lightning straight to the chest.

His wolf—silent and subdued for so long—growled low and deep, not in anger but in fierce, unmistakable approval. The sound vibrated through his ribs, possessive and content all at once. It liked the nickname. It liked the closeness. It liked the way Taehyung’s scent wrapped around them both, strawberry and cedar blending into something new, something whole.

Jungkook’s arms tightened instinctively, pulling Taehyung closer until there was no space left at all. His own scent poured out in response—stronger than he’d ever allowed it to be, warm cedar and rain-soaked earth flooding the nest, wrapping protectively around the Omega in his arms.

He felt it then, with absolute clarity, his wolf wasn’t going back to sleep.

Not tonight.

Maybe not ever.

Taehyung had woken it, with trust, with touch, with that soft.

And now that it was awake, it had no intention of letting go.

Jungkook pressed his nose into Taehyung’s hair, breathing him in just as deeply, and let the quiet rumble in his chest answer for him.

Mine.

Chapter Text

Taehyung woke in the middle of the night, shivering and disoriented, his skin slick with sweat that had long since cooled. The nest around him was damp, the soft blankets now clinging uncomfortably to his body.

But Jungkook was still there, arms wrapped securely around him, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm against his back, as if he’d never once considered leaving.

“J-Jungkook…?” Taehyung’s voice came out small, hoarse from sleep and the strain of the heat.

It took only a few seconds for Jungkook to stir, his hold tightening instinctively before his eyes fluttered open. He must have caught the shift in Taehyung’s scent, because concern flooded his voice immediately.

“Taehyung…? What’s wrong?”

“My nest is soaked…” Taehyung mumbled, embarrassment warming his already flushed cheeks. “Me too… I’m cold…”

“Oh.” Understanding dawned in Jungkook’s tone, gentle and without judgment.

He sat up carefully, untangling himself just enough to glance around the dim room. Without hesitation, he slipped out of the nest and padded to the wardrobe, opening it quietly to rummage through the shelves.

He returned with a clean pair of soft pajamas—loose cotton pants and an oversized shirt. “Here,” Jungkook said, holding them out. “I’ll… uh… wait in the living room. Just call me when you’re ready.”

Taehyung nodded gratefully, watching as Jungkook left the room and pulled the door almost shut behind him.

He changed quickly, peeling away the damp clothes and slipping into the fresh ones, the dry fabric a small but immediate relief against his overheated skin.

“I’m done,” he called softly.

Jungkook returned at once, stepping back into the room with quiet purpose. His gaze swept over the ruined nest, then back to Taehyung, who sat huddled on the edge of the mattress, arms wrapped around himself.

“I can… remake it for you,” Jungkook offered, voice low but steady. “If that’s okay. Where do you keep extra blankets?”

Taehyung blinked, a flutter stirring in his chest.

Remaking a nest was intimate—deeply personal, something usually reserved for close friends, family, or… mates. They weren’t even together.

But the thought of Jungkook’s hands arranging the space for him, infusing it with care, felt unbearably right.

“They’re in the wardrobe,” he said, nodding toward it. “Top shelf.”

Jungkook moved with quiet efficiency, pulling down thick quilts and soft throws, shaking them out gently before beginning to rebuild the nest.

He worked carefully—piling pillows for support, layering blankets into a deep, circular haven, tucking edges to create walls of comfort. And then, deliberately, he paused to rub each new piece against himself, imprinting his scent the same way Taehyung had done earlier with the first nest.

When he finished, he stepped back, surveying his work with a small, almost shy nod. Taehyung crawled in immediately, burrowing into the fresh softness.

It was perfect—warm, enveloping, scented just right. The chill faded almost instantly, replaced by a bone-deep sense of security.

Jungkook disappeared briefly again, returning with a cool, damp cloth. He sat on the edge of the bed and pressed it gently to Taehyung’s forehead, then cheeks, then the heated skin at his throat. The coolness drew a soft sigh from Taehyung’s lips.

“This should help,” Jungkook murmured.

Taehyung caught his wrist before he could pull away. “Stay,” he whispered. “Stay until it’s over. It’s… it’s nice. You make it hurt less.”

Jungkook’s eyes softened, something vulnerable flickering across his face. “O-okay.”

“You’re a good Alpha, Jungkook…” Taehyung added, voice drowsy but sincere, the heat pulling him toward sleep again. “The best…”

“Thank you,” Jungkook whispered, cheeks tinting pink even in the low light.

He slid back into the nest carefully, settling behind Taehyung once more. Taehyung didn’t hesitate—he turned and burrowed into Jungkook’s chest, arms winding around his waist, face pressed to the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

Jungkook’s arms came around him immediately, strong and careful, holding him close. And his scent didn’t fade this time. It stayed, wrapping around Taehyung like a promise.

There was no question left in Taehyung’s mind, not anymore.

He had imprinted completely.

Jungkook was his.

***

The next morning brought a different kind of storm.

Taehyung woke to the full, unrelenting crest of his heat—waves of feverish need crashing through him harder than anything the night before had prepared him for.

What had felt like an overwhelming but manageable ache yesterday had sharpened overnight into something raw, insistent, almost painful. His skin burned, his pulse thundered, and every breath carried the thick, honeyed sweetness of his own scent, now completely unrestrained.

The suppressants Jimin had brought earlier sat untouched on the nightstand; they felt useless against this tide.

Jungkook had stayed through the night, but when the first real surge hit at dawn, he’d slipped out of the bed with careful apologies.

He waited patiently until Jimin arrived before leaving. He sat quietly in the living room, hands clasped, eyes on the floor, until the doorbell rang and Jimin stepped inside.

And maybe he was right.

Taehyung could already feel the dangerous edge of his own desire sharpening. If Jungkook had stayed any longer, Taehyung might have lost control completely—pushed, begged, climbed into his lap and refused to let go.

Jimin had arrived arms full of supplies, stronger suppressants, cooling patches, electrolyte drinks, and the kind of no-nonsense comfort only another Omega could provide.

Now Taehyung lay curled on the couch, knees drawn to his chest, wrapped in the blanket that still carried faint traces of Jungkook’s cedar-earth scent.

It wasn’t enough.

The trace was fading, and the absence clawed at him.

“Shhh, Tae,” Jimin murmured, sliding onto the couch behind him and pulling him close. His arms were warm, steady, familiar. “It’s gonna be okay. It’ll ease up tomorrow, yeah?”

Taehyung shook his head weakly, face buried against Jimin’s shoulder. “J-Jungkook should’ve… stayed… I…”

“No, Tae,” Jimin said gently but firmly, stroking his hair. “That poor Alpha would’ve lost his mind. You smell stronger than I’ve ever known you to. Your heat’s broadcasting like crazy.”

“He’s mine…” Taehyung whispered, voice cracking. “He’s my Alpha…”

“I know,” Jimin soothed, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I know, baby. Don’t worry—I’m not stealing him. Promise. Just try to rest a little, okay?”

“His scent… it’s gone…” Taehyung’s voice broke on the last word, a small, frustrated whimper escaping him. “I can’t calm down…”

Jimin sighed softly and tightened his hold, letting Taehyung nestle deeper against him. “You’ll see him again soon if you let yourself calm down. Try to settle your wolf, hm? These aren’t your full heats—they came on too fast, too triggered. They can end quicker if you rest and don’t fight them.”

Taehyung knew he was right. Logically, he knew.

This heat had been forced early by the imprinting, by the dance, by the night spent wrapped in Jungkook’s arms.

It wasn’t the long, drawn-out cycle he usually endured. But logic didn’t matter when every nerve ending screamed for one specific person.

He wanted Jungkook.

Not just to ease the pain. Not just to scent him or be held.

He wanted him.

Fully. Desperately.

His wolf had accepted it completely—no hesitation, no doubt. Jungkook was his Alpha, his mate in every instinctual way that mattered.

And the thought of sharing him, of anyone else even looking at him, made a low, possessive rumble build in Taehyung’s throat.

He pressed his face harder into Jimin’s shoulder, trying to borrow his friend’s calm, but his mind kept replaying the night, Jungkook’s careful hands remaking the nest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under Taehyung’s ear, the way his scent had finally bloomed full and rich and safe.

“I can’t wait to see him again,” Taehyung whispered, voice small and raw. “I.. I need him.”
Jimin smiled against his hair, rocking him gently.

“You will. Soon. Just breathe through it, Tae. He’s not going anywhere. That Alpha isn’t going to run from you.”

Taehyung closed his eyes, clinging to the promise.

Jungkook was his.

And the moment this heat released him, he was going to make sure his Alpha knew it too.

___________________________

Jungkook left Taehyung’s apartment only after Jimin arrived.

The rest of the morning passed in a haze. He went straight to his doctor’s office, heart hammering the whole way. He needed answers—needed to understand why his wolf had woken up so suddenly.

Why it felt… different.

Awake.

Hungry.

The waiting room smelled of antiseptic and old magazines. When the nurse called his name, Jungkook stood up too quickly, palms damp.

“Hi, Jungkook,” the doctor greeted warmly, gesturing to the chair. “You’re looking… different today. How have you been since last time?”

Jungkook sat, rubbing his hands on his jeans. “Actually… that’s why I’m here. My wolf…”

The doctor tilted his head, inhaling subtly. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face. “Your wolf woke up, didn’t it? That’s wonderful news.”

“You can smell it?” Jungkook asked, voice small.

“Impossible to miss now. You have a proper Alpha scent—strong, grounded, unmistakable. Cedar and rain, right? Very distinct.”

The doctor leaned back, studying him. “So tell me—how did this happen?”

Jungkook looked down at his hands. “I… don’t know exactly. There’s this… partner I have for the dance project. An Omega. Taehyung.”

“A dance partner?” The doctor raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Close physical contact, then. Lots of touching, proximity, trust-building.”

“Yeah…”

“That could certainly explain it. Your wolf responded to someone who made you feel needed, safe, wanted. Have you become close with this Taehyung?”

“I… don’t know.” Jungkook’s voice dropped. “He’s kind. Really kind. But I don’t know if he actually likes me. It’s hard to tell.”

The doctor leaned forward slightly. “What does his scent feel like when he’s near you?”

Jungkook swallowed. “Comfortable. Soft. Sweet—like strawberries. But during his heat… it was more intense. Overwhelming.”

The doctor’s eyes widened, genuinely surprised. “His heat? You were with him during it?”

“They came on suddenly. He asked me to take him home, and then… he asked me to stay. To help.”

“And did you…?”

“No,” Jungkook said quickly, cheeks burning. “We just… slept next to each other. In his nest.”

The doctor let out a low, amused huff. “In his nest. Right.” He scribbled something on his notepad.

“Well, Jungkook, I’d say your wolf has latched on. It’s awake now, and it’s not going back to sleep. This kind of awakening usually happens when an Alpha finds someone who triggers their protective and possessive instincts. In your case, it sounds like Taehyung did exactly that.”

Jungkook stared at the floor. “So… it’ll stay like this? Even without him?”

“Most likely, yes. You’ll notice other Omegas reacting to you now—your scent is strong enough to draw attention. If it becomes overwhelming, I can prescribe suppressants. But honestly? This is a good thing. Your wolf was dormant because it never felt safe enough to show itself. Now it does.”

Jungkook nodded slowly, throat tight. “Thank you, doctor.”

He left the office feeling strangely lighter—and heavier at the same time.

***

The afternoon photography class was hell.

Normally, he sat alone in the back, unnoticed.

Today, heads turned the moment he walked in.

Omegas glanced over, nostrils flaring subtly. A few smiled shyly. One even shifted closer during the group critique, asking unnecessary questions about his prints. Their scents brushed against him—floral, citrus, vanilla—but none of it mattered. His wolf didn’t stir for any of them. It stayed quiet, focused, waiting.

Waiting for strawberries.

***

By the time dance class rolled around, Jungkook’s nerves were frayed. He knew Taehyung wouldn’t be there today, but the studio was filled with Omegas and Betas, and now Jungkook’s scent filled the space like it never had before.

Eyes followed him. Whispers started.

Someone murmured “Did you smell that?” as he passed.

He kept his head down, stretching in the corner like always.

But every time the door opened, his gaze flicked up—hoping, stupidly, that Taehyung might walk through it anyway.

He knew it was impossible.

He knew he should be relieved Taehyung wasn’t here to see him like this—awkward, suddenly too noticeable.

But the truth was sharper. He missed him.

And his wolf missed him too.

***

The dance class was a disaster.

Jungkook had never had to manage his scent before. It had always been faint, easy to ignore, easy to hide.

Now it filled the studio like a quiet storm—warm cedar and rain-soaked earth, steady and undeniable.

The Omegas couldn’t focus. Heads kept turning. Steps faltered. Whispers rippled through the room every time he moved through a phrase alone.

A few Omegas tried to approach him during partner switches, offering smiles and excuses about “needing a stronger base” or “wanting to try something new.” He barely registered their words.

His eyes stayed on the mirror, on the empty space where Taehyung should have been, and he kept dancing—precise, controlled, lost in the rhythm he’d always found comfort in.

When the class finally ended, the professor called him over with a tight, uncomfortable expression.

“Jungkook… a word?”

He followed her to the side of the studio, heart already sinking.

“I’m glad—truly glad—that your wolf has finally woken up,” she began, voice low. “But I’m afraid I’m going to have to exclude you from this course.”

Jungkook froze. The words didn’t make sense at first.

“Why?” he asked, voice small. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No. You’re talented. More than talented. But I only accepted you into this class because of your… subdued Alpha scent. It allowed you to blend in. Now that it’s fully present, it’s becoming… problematic.” She sighed, glancing at the lingering students packing up.

“This course was designed for Omegas and Betas. The university doesn’t have a dedicated Alpha dance track. And your scent is distracting the class.”

Jungkook’s stomach dropped. “I don’t understand… I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m just… dancing.”

“The Omegas are distracted. And more than that—” She hesitated, choosing her words carefully.

“Your closeness with Taehyung—an Omega—could be dangerous for him. I’m not blind. He’s absent today because his heat arrived unexpectedly, right after your duet work. If your presence triggers something like that every time… it won’t be good for his health.”

The realization hit Jungkook like cold water.

He hadn’t connected the dots until now.

Taehyung’s heat had started the day of their closest dance. After their scents had tangled so tightly neither could breathe without the other. And Jungkook’s scent had been the trigger.

Guilt crashed over him.

“I didn’t mean to…” he whispered. “I didn’t know.”

“I know you didn’t,” the professor said, softer now. “And I’m truly sorry. Your duet was by far the strongest in the class. But I have to prioritize the group—and Taehyung’s well-being.”

She gave him a sympathetic nod and turned to speak with another student.

Jungkook stood there, frozen, the studio emptying around him. The joy he’d felt that morning—the tentative hope of seeing Taehyung again, of dancing with him, of maybe finally feeling like he belonged somewhere—shattered.

He had finally become himself. His wolf was awake. His scent was real.

And now he was being punished for it.

His chest ached. His wolf whimpered low inside him, sad and confused. It had only wanted to protect. To be close. To be needed.

And somehow, it had hurt the one person it cared about most.

Jungkook grabbed his bag and left the studio without looking back.

He didn’t know how he was going to face Taehyung again. He didn’t know if Taehyung would even want to see him.

All he knew was that the thought of never dancing with him again—of never feeling that strawberry sweetness wrap around him, felt like losing something vital.

Something he hadn’t even realized he’d found until it was slipping away.

Chapter Text

Two days later, Taehyung was finally feeling better.

Physically, at least.

The heat had ebbed away, leaving him tired but functional. He could go back to classes—even if every nerve in his body felt raw and on edge. His wolf wasn’t doing well. It paced restlessly inside him, whining softly, unsettled and needy.

And even though admitting it still felt strange—even though he’d accepted it during those feverish nights—he knew exactly why.

He hadn’t seen Jungkook in two days.

He knew imprinting could do this, create an ache when separated from your Alpha, a quiet longing that grew sharper with every hour apart.

He’d read about it, heard stories, but he’d never imagined it would happen to him.

Never imagined he’d be the one pacing his apartment at night, pressing his face into the blanket that still carried faint traces of cedar and rain, trying to breathe Jungkook in when he wasn’t there.

He’d gone to his doctor that morning for stronger suppressants.
He was tired of the Alphas on campus crowding him, leaning too close, asking pointless questions just to catch more of his scent. The new medication helped mute it again.

When he arrived at the university, his first class was dance.

He walked into the studio with his bag slung over his shoulder, heart already beating too fast. He scanned the room automatically, searching for dark hair and quiet eyes. Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.

Jungkook didn’t come.

He always arrived early.

The professor started warm-up without comment.

Taehyung tried to focus—stretching, breathing, moving through the familiar motions—but his wolf was restless, ears pricked, waiting. When the clock hit twenty minutes and the door stayed closed, Taehyung couldn’t take it anymore.

He stood and walked straight to the professor, voice low but urgent.

“Excuse me… Jungkook hasn’t arrived yet, and—”

“He didn’t tell you?”

Taehyung blinked. “Tell me what?”

The professor sighed, lowering her clipboard. “I had to exclude him from the course. His scent became… problematic. For you, and for the other Omegas.”

Taehyung’s breath caught. “You’re joking.”

“I’m sorry, Taehyung. But I had to prioritize the group dynamic. I’ve already assigned you a new partner—a Beta who should be a good fit—”

“You’re kidding me.”

“Taehyung—”

“You’re kicking him out because he finally has a real Alpha scent? Because some Omegas can’t control themselves around him?”

“You didn’t exactly control yourself either,” the professor pointed out, not unkindly. “And Jungkook is still learning to manage his own scent. He’s not ready for this level of exposure yet.”

“My body, my problem,” Taehyung snapped, voice rising despite himself. “This isn’t your business. I want to keep Jungkook as my partner.”

“I’m sorry. It’s not possible.”

A boy approached then—tall, polite, smiling nervously. “Hi, I’m Bogum. I’m your new—”

“I want Jungkook,” Taehyung cut in, sharper than he meant. His wolf surged, eyes flashing gold for a single heartbeat before he forced it back down.

The professor’s expression softened into something almost pitying. “Taehyung… it’s understandable that you’re attached to him. But this is a dance class, not courting. If you love dance, then accept Bogum as your partner and see Jungkook outside of class.”

“No.”

Taehyung turned on his heel and walked out without another word.

The hallway blurred around him. His heart pounded too hard, his wolf snarling low in his chest—furious, protective, betrayed. He didn’t care about the stares from passing students, didn’t care about the schedule.

Jungkook had finally started to feel like himself.

And they’d taken it away because of him.

Because of his heat. Because of their dance.

Because Jungkook’s scent had answered his so perfectly that the whole room noticed.

Taehyung’s hands shook. He didn’t know how to fix this. Didn’t know where to start.

But one thing was certain, he wasn’t going to let Jungkook disappear. Not when his wolf had already chosen.

***

Taehyung sat in the hall, back against the wall, knees drawn up slightly. He couldn’t leave.

He didn’t know where Jungkook lived, didn’t have his number, didn’t have any way to reach him.

All he had was this spot, and the stubborn hope that Jungkook would walk through those doors eventually.

He replayed Jimin’s words from the last day of his heat, soft but insistent “Try courting him. See how he reacts. Maybe he thinks you only see him as a friend.”

Courting Jungkook…

Taehyung had never courted anyone.

Never even considered it.

But the idea settled warmly in his chest, making his wolf hum in quiet approval.

He didn’t just want to be dance partners anymore.

He wanted to know Jungkook—really know him.

Wanted mornings where they walked to class together, wanted late-night talks, wanted the right to reach for his hand without it feeling like a risk.

Most of all, he hoped Jungkook didn’t regret staying that night. Didn’t regret scenting him, holding him through the worst of the heat, remaking his nest with careful hands.

***

Thirty minutes passed.

He stood up, restless, and wandered the hall, eyes drifting over the posters and artwork like that very first day. And then—he felt it.

A scent he knew by heart now, but stronger.

Not overpowering—just rich, warm, enveloping.

Cedar after rain, sun-warmed earth, grounding and addictive.

He turned.

Jungkook was there.
Surrounded by Omegas.

They clustered around him like moths to a flame—giggling, touching his arm, leaning in too close, their scents cloying and artificial. Taehyung’s blood turned to fire in an instant.

His wolf surged.

Without conscious thought, he crossed the hall in long strides. Jungkook’s eyes widened when he saw him, but Taehyung didn’t slow. He reached out, hooked his arm through Jungkook’s, and pressed himself to his side—possessive.

“We need to talk.”

Jungkook barely had time to blink before Taehyung tugged him away from the group, pulling him down a quieter corridor.

Only when they were out of sight did Taehyung release his arm—but not his hand. Their fingers stayed laced, warm and steady.

“T-Taehyung?” Jungkook’s voice was soft, uncertain. “Are you okay?”

“No.”

Jungkook exhaled shakily. “Listen… I don’t want you getting in trouble because of me. If the professor doesn’t want me in class anymore, then—”

Taehyung wasn’t listening. “Why do you let those hypocritical Omegas get so close to you?”

Jungkook blinked, confused. “What?”

Taehyung dropped his hand for a second, turned, and faced the cluster of Omegas who had followed at a distance, still hovering.

His voice came out low, dangerous. “You didn’t care when his scent was faint. You ignored him, looked through him. Now you’re drooling like starved dogs. You’re all hypocrites. If you’re in heat, go find someone else. You don’t deserve him.”

The Omegas scattered, faces flushed, tails metaphorically between their legs. Taehyung could be terrifying when he wanted to be.

Jungkook stared after them, then back at Taehyung—embarrassed, but visibly relieved. He clearly hadn’t enjoyed the attention.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Taehyung took his hand again, softer now, thumb brushing over Jungkook’s knuckles. “Thank you… for staying with me. During my heat.”

Jungkook gave a small, shy smile. “It was nothing. I just… felt guilty, so—”

Taehyung’s heart sank. Guilty?

Without thinking, he lifted Jungkook’s wrist to his face and rubbed his own scent gland gently against it.

Jungkook’s cheeks flushed pink, his breath hitching, but he didn’t pull away. His scent bloomed in response—stronger, warmer, cedar wrapping around them both.

Taehyung lowered the wrist but kept their fingers linked.

“About the dance class…” Jungkook started hesitantly.

“Either she lets you back in, or I quit. I’m not dancing with anyone else.”

“Taehyung… that’s stupid. Don’t ruin your year because of me—”

“You want me to dance with that Beta?” Taehyung asked suddenly, voice sharp. “You really want that?”

Jungkook froze. His eyes widened, lips parting, but no words came out. “…It’s not about—”

It wasn’t the answer Taehyung wanted. He let go of Jungkook’s hand.

His voice dropped, quieter, sadder. “You know what… you’re probably right. I should just accept it. If you don’t care, then neither do I.”

He turned to walk away.
But inside, his wolf howled.

___________________________________

Jungkook felt it the moment Taehyung’s scent shifted—sharp disappointment laced with a quiet, aching sadness that cut straight through him.

He hadn’t answered the question.

Obviously he didn’t want Taehyung to dance with that Beta. Obviously he hated the thought of someone else’s hands on Taehyung’s waist, someone else lifting him, someone else sharing that space Jungkook had only just begun to realize he craved.

But the words had lodged in his throat, trapped behind the same old fear, if he said it out loud, Taehyung might feel pressured. Might feel like he had to quit dancing just to spare Jungkook’s feelings. Might regret ever choosing him in the first place.

But he couldn’t let Taehyung walk away like this.

Not with that hurt scent lingering in the air between them. Not with the misunderstanding twisting tighter.

His wolf wouldn’t allow it.

Ever since that night—holding Taehyung through the heat, remaking his nest, breathing in strawberry sweetness until it became part of him—Jungkook’s wolf had been awake and single-minded.

It wanted Taehyung close.

Wanted his scent, his warmth. It didn’t care about logic or guilt or fear. It just wanted.

So when Taehyung turned and walked out of the building, Jungkook moved without thinking.

He caught up in three long strides, hand closing gently but firmly around Taehyung’s arm.

Taehyung startled, half-turning—and Jungkook didn’t hesitate. He pulled him back, wrapped both arms around him, and tugged him flush against his chest in the middle of the empty courtyard.

The world narrowed instantly.

Taehyung’s scent bloomed—bright, sun-ripened strawberry flooding Jungkook’s lungs, sweet and heavy and perfect.

His own scent answered without permission.

Jungkook buried his face in Taehyung’s hair, breathing him in, and a small, helpless smile curved his lips against Taehyung’s temple.

His wolf purred—deep, content, certain.

It only reacted like this for Taehyung. No one else.

Taehyung stiffened for half a second, then melted against him, hands fisting in the back of Jungkook’s shirt like he was afraid Jungkook might disappear if he let go.

His heartbeat thumped against Jungkook’s chest—fast, unsteady, matching his own.

Jungkook tightened his hold just a fraction, voice low and rough against Taehyung’s ear. “I don’t want you to dance with him.”

Taehyung went still.

“I don’t want anyone else touching you like that,”

Jungkook continued, words spilling out now that the dam had broken. “Not in class. Not anywhere. I just… I didn’t want you to give up something you love because of me. I thought… if I said it, you’d feel stuck. Like you had to choose between dance and… and me.”

Taehyung’s breath hitched.

“But I don’t want you with anyone else,” Jungkook whispered.

He felt Taehyung’s fingers tighten in his shirt. Felt the soft exhale against his collarbone. Felt the way Taehyung’s scent sweetened further—less sad, more warm.

Jungkook pulled back just enough to look at him.
Taehyung’s eyes were wide, pupils blown, gold flickering at the edges. His lips parted, but no sound came out at first.

Then, quietly, almost shyly “You… mean that?”

Jungkook nodded, throat tight. “Yeah. I do.”

Taehyung stared at him for one long heartbeat.

Then he surged forward—hands sliding up to cup Jungkook’s face—and kissed him.

It was desperate, hungry. Strawberry sweetness flooded Jungkook’s senses as Taehyung pressed closer, lips soft but insistent, claiming in a way that made Jungkook’s wolf howl with joy.

Jungkook kissed back just as fiercely, one hand sliding into Taehyung’s hair, the other wrapping around his waist to keep him right there.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing hard, foreheads pressed together, Jungkook let out a shaky laugh.

“I should’ve said it sooner.”

Taehyung smiled—small, real, radiant. “Yeah,” he whispered. “You should’ve.”

_________________________________

Taehyung pressed himself closer, face buried in the crook of Jungkook’s neck, inhaling deeply.

The scent of warm cedar and rain-soaked earth flooded his lungs—strong now, no longer hidden, no longer incomplete. It felt like home. His wolf hummed low and content inside him.

Jungkook had kissed him back. Had pulled him in.

Had said that he didn’t want anyone else touching him.

But what were they now?

The question swirled in Taehyung’s mind, soft and uncertain, until Jungkook’s voice broke through, low and hesitant against his hair

“Taehyung… are you… my Omega now?” Jungkook asked, words trembling slightly. “Do you… want to be? I’m still trying to understand my wolf, but… I know he wants you. And honestly… I do feel good with you. Really good.”

Taehyung let out a small, breathless laugh, the sound muffled against Jungkook’s collarbone. He pulled back just enough to meet Jungkook’s eyes.

“You’ve always been my Alpha, Jungkook,” he said softly. “From the very first moment I saw you. There was this… feeling. This pull. And when you shielded me from the paint—when you slammed me against the wall to protect me… that’s when I knew. My wolf knew. I didn’t accept it right away, not because of you, but… I didn’t believe in those things. I thought they were just stories.”

Jungkook’s breath caught. “Those things…?”

“Imprinting.”

Jungkook pulled back slightly, eyes wide with shock. “You… imprinted on me? From the very first day…?”

Taehyung looked down, cheeks warming. “Mhm…”

Tears shimmered in Jungkook’s eyes—sudden, bright, overwhelmed. “Before… before my scent even fully woke up? Before my wolf…”

Taehyung pouted a little, reaching up to cup Jungkook’s face gently, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “Mhm. My wolf liked being protected… even though you were the one who needed protecting that day. I guess he likes selfless acts. And honestly… so do I.”

Jungkook stared at him, eyes glassy, lips parted. His gaze dropped to Taehyung’s mouth—lingering, hungry, reverent.

Taehyung laughed again, soft and fond. “I’m your Omega, Jungkook,” he whispered. “Do whatever you want.”

Jungkook didn’t hesitate this time.

He surged forward, cupping Taehyung’s face with both hands, and kissed him again—deeper, slower, like he was memorizing every second.

Taehyung melted into it immediately, arms winding around Jungkook’s neck, fingers threading into his hair. Their scents tangled fully—strawberry sweetness blooming under cedar and rain, blending until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

When they parted, foreheads pressed together, breaths mingling, Jungkook let out a shaky, happy laugh.

“I can’t believe you chose me,” he whispered. “Even when I was… nothing.”

Taehyung shook his head, brushing his nose against Jungkook’s. “You were never nothing. Not to me.”

Jungkook’s eyes fluttered shut, a tear slipping free. Taehyung kissed it away without thinking.

“I want to dance with you,” Jungkook said quietly.
“Even if it’s not in that class. Even if we have to find our own space.”

Taehyung smiled—wide, bright, certain.
“Then it will be.”

He took Jungkook’s hand again, lacing their fingers tightly.

“Come on,” he said, tugging gently. “Let’s get out of here. I want to be somewhere quiet. I want to be with you all alone today.”

Jungkook followed without hesitation, their hands swinging between them as they walked across campus.

***

Taehyung tugged Jungkook gently by the hand, leading him through the quiet streets and back to his apartment.

He didn’t care about missing the rest of the day’s classes—attendance, notes, assignments, all of it could wait.

Right now, the only thing that mattered was having his Alpha close. Finally his.

The door clicked shut behind them, he didn’t let go of Jungkook’s hand even as they kicked off their shoes.

Jungkook’s gaze drifted toward the bedroom doorway, catching sight of the carefully arranged pillows and blankets still piled on the bed. The nest he had remade during Taehyung’s heat remained untouched—blankets folded just so, Jungkook’s jacket still tucked into one corner like a secret.

“You… kept the nest I made for you?” Jungkook asked quietly, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

“Mhm,” Taehyung hummed, stepping closer until their chests brushed. “It’s comfortable. Even if your scent has faded a little.”

Jungkook ducked his head, cheeks tinting pink. The compliment seemed to catch him off guard—he wasn’t used to being told he was wanted.

Taehyung tilted his head, studying him with a soft smile. “You want something to eat?”

Taehyung wanted to court him.

Properly.

Even though they were already bonded in every way that mattered to their wolves, even though Jungkook had already chosen him back, Taehyung still wanted to do this right.

He wanted to see Jungkook smile, to make him feel cherished, to prove—over and over—that he was worth every gentle, selfless thing he’d ever done.

Jungkook shook his head slowly, eyes lifting to meet Taehyung’s. “No… I just want to lie down with you. Since your heat… my wolf gets restless when you’re too far away. Being close to you calms him. And honestly…” His voice dropped, barely above a whisper. “I’ve missed you, Taehyung. More than I thought possible.”

Taehyung’s heart squeezed. He laughed softly, teasing but fond. “You’re clingy, huh?” Jungkook’s blush deepened, but he didn’t look away. “Good thing, because I am too.” Taehyung grinned. “Very good thing.”

Then a flicker of worry crossed Jungkook’s face. “Wait… being this close—won’t it trigger your heat again? I don’t want to—”

“I don’t think so,” Taehyung said gently, stepping even closer until their foreheads touched. “My wolf is calm now. Settled. And… so am I.”

Jungkook exhaled shakily, relief softening his features.

He let Taehyung lead him toward the bedroom, toward the nest that still carried faint echoes of their first night together.

They climbed in without hesitation—Jungkook settling against the pillows first, then opening his arms. Taehyung crawled in immediately, curling against his chest, head tucked under Jungkook’s chin. Their legs tangled naturally. Jungkook’s hand slid up Taehyung’s back, slow and soothing, fingers tracing lazy circles over his spine.

Taehyung sighed, content. “This is perfect.”

Jungkook pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head. “Yeah… it is.”

For a long while, neither spoke.

Taehyung listened to the steady thump of Jungkook’s heartbeat under his ear, felt the rise and fall of his chest, inhaled the warm cedar-rain scent that now felt like part of him. His own strawberry sweetness rose in response, soft and inviting, mingling until the nest smelled like them.

Jungkook’s fingers drifted into Taehyung’s hair, combing gently. “I still can’t believe you chose me,” he whispered after a while. “From the very first day.”

Taehyung lifted his head just enough to look at him. “I still can’t believe you stayed. That you held me, helped me through my heat. That you remade my nest. That you’re here right now.”

Jungkook’s eyes softened, thumb brushing along Taehyung’s cheekbone. Taehyung smiled, he leaned in and kissed Jungkook again—slow this time, unhurried. No desperation, no fear. Just warmth.

When they pulled apart, Taehyung nestled back against Jungkook’s chest, one hand resting over his heart.

“Stay tonight?” he murmured.

Jungkook’s arms tightened around him. “I’m staying as long as you want me to.”

Taehyung closed his eyes, smiling into Jungkook’s shirt. “Thank you.”

Jungkook let out a quiet, happy laugh, pressing a kiss to Taehyung’s hair.

Chapter Text

The evening arrived faster than either of them expected.

They spent the entire afternoon curled together in the nest—legs tangled, arms wrapped around each other, breathing in sync.

They had both needed it more than they realized.

When the sun began to dip lower, Jungkook sat up slowly, brushing a strand of hair from Taehyung’s forehead.

“I’ll cook for us,” he said, voice soft but certain.

Taehyung blinked, surprised. “You cook?”

Jungkook gave a small, shy smile. “Yeah. Please, let me.”

Taehyung watched from the kitchen doorway as Jungkook moved with quiet confidence—chopping vegetables, seasoning with practiced ease, stirring something that already smelled incredible.

Taehyung leaned against the frame, arms crossed, heart doing funny little flips.

This is courting, he thought, warmth blooming in his chest. He’s courting me. And he’s really good at it.

When Jungkook set the plates on the table, Taehyung inhaled deeply. “It smells amazing… You’re not just good at dancing, Jungkookie.”

The nickname slipped out naturally, and Taehyung watched as Jungkook’s ears turned pink, his gaze dropping to the food with a tiny, pleased smile.

“You’re cute…” Taehyung murmured, the words escaping before he could catch them.

Jungkook’s head snapped up. “What…?”

“N-nothing,” Taehyung said quickly, cheeks heating. He knew most Alphas hated being called cute—too soft, too vulnerable. He didn’t want to risk hurting Jungkook, not when everything felt so fragile and new. “Is it almost ready? The smell is making me hungry!”

Jungkook relaxed, nodding with a small laugh. “Five minutes.”

Taehyung sat at the table, chin in hand, watching Jungkook finish plating. He felt stupidly happy.

Him—the Omega who had sworn off Alphas, who had wanted to focus only on dance and studies—was sitting here watching his Alpha cook for him, heart racing like it had never done before.

“Taehyung?”

“Hm?”

Jungkook set the steaming plates down and sat across from him, suddenly looking nervous.

“Tomorrow’s the weekend… Would you… maybe want to go to the movies? Or just walk around… Be together…”

A date.
A real one.

Taehyung’s smile spread slow and bright. “Yes. I’ll go wherever you take me, Jungkookie. With pleasure.”

Jungkook’s whole face lit up—shy, relieved, radiant.

The food was delicious.

The evening settled in quietly. They ended up on the couch, not really watching the TV—mostly talking. About life before university. Families. Passions. Dreams.

They finally exchanged phone numbers—fingers brushing as they typed, both of them smiling like idiots at the simple act.

Jungkook saved Taehyung’s contact with a little strawberry emoji. Taehyung added a tiny raincloud next to Jungkook’s name.

When it got late, they moved to the bedroom.

Taehyung lent Jungkook an oversized pajama set. Jungkook lifted the collar to his nose and inhaled.

“Mmm… smells like you…”

“It’s mine, obviously,” Taehyung teased, cheeks warm. “Keep it. Oh—and I still have your jacket, by the way…”

“Keep it,” Jungkook said immediately, soft but firm.

“You sure?”

“Mhm.” Jungkook sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at him. “Come here?”

Taehyung smiled and joined him in the bed.

They slid under the blankets together, bodies fitting like they’d always belonged this way.

Taehyung leaned in first, pressing a slow, languid kiss to Jungkook’s lips. Jungkook responded eagerly but hesitantly—lips parting, hands tentative on Taehyung’s waist, clearly new to this depth of intimacy.

Taehyung took the lead without thinking, deepening the kiss gently, tongue brushing Jungkook’s in a way that made him shiver.

Jungkook followed, learning quickly, a soft, surprised sound escaping him when Taehyung nipped lightly at his bottom lip.

When they parted, both breathing hard, Taehyung rested his forehead against Jungkook’s, smiling.

“You’re really good at that too, Jungkookie.”

Jungkook laughed—quiet, breathless, embarrassed but pleased. “You’re… better.”

Taehyung kissed him again, then curled against his chest, head tucked under Jungkook’s chin.
He closed his eyes, smiling into Jungkook’s shirt, surrounded by their shared scent.

***

The next morning, Taehyung woke slowly, cocooned in warmth and the steady rise and fall of Jungkook’s chest against his back.

Jungkook’s arms were wrapped around him securely, one hand splayed over Taehyung’s stomach, the other tucked under his head. Their legs were tangled in that effortless way that only happens when two people have spent the night pressed as close as possible.

Taehyung didn’t move at first. He simply lay there, breathing in the scent that now felt like part of him.

His wolf was quiet for once—not pacing, not whining, just… content.

He tilted his head back slightly, just enough to look at Jungkook’s sleeping face.

God, he was beautiful.

Soft features, almost boyish even in repose—long lashes resting against his cheeks, lips slightly parted, a faint flush on the apples of his cheeks.

Taehyung couldn’t help it, his fingers drifted up, tracing the line of Jungkook’s jaw with the lightest touch, following the gentle curve of his cheekbone, brushing over the faint freckles scattered across his nose. Every detail felt precious, like something he wanted to memorize forever.

Jungkook stirred at the contact, lashes fluttering. His eyes opened slowly—dark, sleepy, unfocused at first—then sharpened when they found Taehyung’s face.

“Morning…” Taehyung whispered, suddenly shy.

“Morning…” Jungkook echoed, voice rough with sleep, equally quiet, equally hesitant.

They stared at each other for a long moment, the silence comfortable, charged with something soft and new.

“I want to stay like this forever,” Taehyung admitted, voice barely above a breath. “You’re too comfortable. It’s not fair.”

Jungkook’s lips curved into the smallest, shyest smile—and then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed Taehyung.

It was gentle at first, just a press of lips, warm and tentative. Taehyung startled, a tiny, surprised sound escaping against Jungkook’s mouth.

Jungkook pulled back immediately, eyes wide with regret. “Sorry—I didn’t think—I—”

Taehyung didn’t let him finish.

He surged forward, hands sliding up to cradle Jungkook’s face, and kissed him back—deeper, hungrier, no hesitation. Jungkook made a soft, surprised noise, but he learned fast.

His hands found Taehyung’s waist, pulling him closer as he opened his mouth, letting Taehyung lead. Their tongues brushed and Jungkook shivered, a quiet whimper vibrating against Taehyung’s lips.

Taehyung smiled into the kiss, pleased, and shifted—rolling them until Jungkook was on his back and Taehyung straddled his hips. Jungkook’s hands tightened instinctively on Taehyung’s waist, fingers digging in just enough to show how much he wanted this.

He was clingy—deliciously so. His palms slid up Taehyung’s sides, under the hem of his shirt, tracing the warm skin of his lower back, then higher, mapping every line and curve with reverent care. Taehyung arched into the touch, breath hitching when Jungkook’s thumbs brushed the sensitive skin just under his ribs.

“God…” Taehyung murmured against his mouth, nipping lightly at Jungkook’s bottom lip. “You feel so good.”

Jungkook’s response was a low, needy sound. He tilted his head back, exposing the long line of his throat, and Taehyung took the invitation immediately—kissing down the column of his neck, sucking gently at the spot where his pulse raced.

Jungkook gasped, fingers flexing against Taehyung’s back, hips lifting instinctively.

Taehyung smiled against his skin, then grazed his teeth over the same spot—light, teasing, not quite a bite. Jungkook’s breath stuttered, a soft whine escaping him.

“Sensitive here?” Taehyung whispered, pressing an open-mouthed kiss right over Jungkook’s scent gland.

Jungkook nodded frantically, hands sliding down to grip Taehyung’s hips, holding him close. “Y-yeah…”

Taehyung hummed, pleased, and continued—kissing, licking, nipping gently along Jungkook’s throat, then up to his jaw, back to his lips.

Jungkook kissed him back desperately now, hands roaming—over Taehyung’s back, down his sides, up his chest—touching everywhere he could reach, like he couldn’t get enough.

Taehyung shivered under the attention.

Jungkook’s hands were warm, careful and affectionate. Every brush of fingers felt like worship.

When they finally parted for air, both breathing hard, Taehyung rested his forehead against Jungkook’s, smiling.

“You’re really good at this,” he teased breathlessly.

Jungkook laughed, “You’re… teaching me.”

Taehyung kissed him again—slow this time, lingering. “Good,” he murmured against Jungkook’s lips. “Because I plan to keep teaching you.”

Jungkook’s arms wrapped around him fully, pulling him down until Taehyung was draped over his chest, heartbeats pressed together.

***

The movie date had been wonderful—until it wasn’t.

The theater had been packed, the air thick with too many scents colliding in the dark, cloying floral notes from Omegas trying too hard, sharp citrus and musk from Alphas posturing.

Taehyung hadn’t taken his suppressants that evening. He never did outside university or crowded nights out.

Especially not now with Jungkook. He liked breathing freely around his Alpha, liked the way their scents naturally mingled.

But it hadn’t been enough. Not nearly enough to ward off the others.

By the halfway mark of the film, Taehyung had pressed himself so tightly against Jungkook’s side that their thighs were fused, his hand gripping Jungkook’s like a lifeline.

Every time an Omega nearby leaned a little too close or an Alpha shifted in their seat, Taehyung felt his wolf snarl low in his chest.

Jungkook had stayed calm, his thumb stroking soothing circles over Taehyung’s knuckles.

When the credits finally rolled, Taehyung leaned in and muttered against Jungkook’s ear, voice tight with jealousy, “I should’ve scented you properly before we left.”

Jungkook squeezed his hand harder, keeping their fingers laced even as people began filing out around them.

“I don’t care about the others, Taehyung. I barely even notice them.”

Taehyung huffed softly, eyes narrowing at a lingering Omega who had glanced at Jungkook one too many times.

“I wish I could say the same. Those Alphas were suffocating—in the worst way.”

They didn’t speak much on the walk home.

Taehyung’s mood was possessive, restless. Jungkook’s was quiet, attentive. The moment the apartment door closed behind them, Taehyung didn’t hesitate.

He pushed Jungkook gently against the wall, hands sliding up to cradle his face, and buried his nose in the crook of Jungkook’s neck.

He scented him hard—cheek dragging slowly over the sensitive gland, lips brushing skin, releasing wave after wave of bright, claiming strawberry sweetness. Possessive. Territorial.

Jungkook let out a soft, surprised laugh, hands settling on Taehyung’s hips. “Taehyung… you don’t have to go that far. I’m not interested in anyone else—”

“I’m jealous,” Taehyung interrupted, voice muffled against his neck. “I can’t help it. I hate smelling their scents trying to lure my Alpha.”

Jungkook’s fingers flexed on Taehyung’s waist, pulling him impossibly closer. “You think I enjoyed those Alphas? But I know you don’t pay them any attention, so—”

“I’m jealous and possessive, Jungkook. I can’t help it. My wolf is the nervous type, I'm the nervous type”

Jungkook exhaled softly, tilting his head to give Taehyung better access. “I get it. I can try suppressants if you want—”

“No.” Taehyung pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, serious. “Don’t hide your scent. It’s yours. But you should learn how to control it. It’s at maximum strength most of the time, and that’s why—”

“I can’t control my wolf when you’re this close,” Jungkook admitted quietly. “And when you’re far away… it’s worse. It’s like he’s calling you from a distance with his scent.”

Taehyung’s breath caught. “So your full scent… is directed at me. All the time?”

Jungkook nodded, cheeks pink. “Yeah.”

The realization made something warm and possessive bloom in Taehyung’s chest. He smiled, slow, a little wicked and leaned in again, nose brushing the sensitive spot just below Jungkook’s ear.

“Scent me, Jungkookie,” he whispered. “Please. Right here… on my neck.”

Jungkook turned them gently so Taehyung’s back was against the wall, then ducked his head, pressing his face into the curve of Taehyung’s throat. His scent gland dragged slowly over Taehyung’s skin—warm, deliberate.

Cedar and rain poured out in steady waves, rich and grounding, sinking into Taehyung’s pores until every breath he took was filled with them.

Jungkook’s lips brushed the spot once, twice, then grazed with the lightest scrape of teeth—not a bite, but a promise.

Taehyung shivered, hands sliding into Jungkook’s hair, holding him there. A soft, needy sound escaped his throat when Jungkook sucked gently at the gland, then soothed it with slow laps of his tongue.

They stayed like that for long minutes—scenting each other in slow, reverent passes, bodies pressed tight, scents merging. When they finally pulled apart, both flushed and breathing hard, Taehyung rested his forehead against Jungkook’s, smiling.

“Better?” Jungkook asked, thumb brushing Taehyung’s cheek.

“Much better.” Taehyung leaned in and kissed him.

Jungkook smiled against his lips. “Good. Because I’m not letting anyone else get close enough to make you jealous again.”

Taehyung laughed softly, nuzzling his nose against Jungkook’s. “You’d better not. I’m very possessive, remember?”

Jungkook’s arms tightened around him. “I remember. And I love it.”

Chapter Text

The rest of the weekend passed in a soft, perfect blur.

They spent most of it at Taehyung’s apartment—curled in the bed, cooking lazy breakfasts, watching movies they barely paid attention to, talking about everything and nothing.

Sometimes they ventured outside—short walks hand in hand, stopping at a small café where Jungkook insisted on paying, or just sitting on a bench watching people go by, shoulders pressed together, fingers laced.

***

But Monday arrived, and with it, dance class.

Taehyung walked into the studio with quiet determination. He had a plan. He would propose private rehearsals, offer to film everything, anything to keep Jungkook in the course.

He refused to dance with anyone else. Refused to let Jungkook lose the one place where he’d finally started to shine.

To his surprise, the professor called him over before class even began.

“I spoke with the dean of the arts department,” she said, voice calm but firm. “He refuses to exclude Jungkook solely because of his scent. But he also can’t allow him to remain in a class surrounded by Omegas when his presence is this… distracting.”

Taehyung’s jaw tightened. “So what now?”

“You’ll train outside of class hours. Send me weekly videos of your full sessions—warm-ups, choreography, everything. I’ll review them and give feedback. I’ll also schedule a few in-person evaluations—just the two of you—so I can see your progress live. But you must be serious about rehearsals.”

Taehyung exhaled slowly, relief mixing with stubborn pride. “We’ll be graded the same as the others? No special treatment, right ?”

“Exactly the same. But you’ll need to be disciplined. No skipping sessions, no half-efforts.”

Taehyung nodded. “Thank you. Jungkook thanks you too.”

He stepped back into the hallway where Jungkook waited—pacing slightly, shoulders tense, eyes flicking nervously toward the studio door every time an Omega passed.

Taehyung smiled, reaching for his hand. “It’s okay. The dean stepped in. You’re not excluded.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“You train with me privately. We film everything—warm-ups, choreo, all of it—and send it to her. She’ll grade us the same as the others. She’ll call us in sometimes to check in person. But we keep going. Together.”

Jungkook let out a shaky breath, shoulders dropping in visible relief. “Thank you… for fighting for me. If you hadn’t refused to change partners, I would’ve had to drop the class completely.”

Taehyung squeezed his hand, teasing but soft. “I didn’t do it just for you, Jungkookie. Those idiots can’t dance. I want the best grade. The absolute best.”

Jungkook laughed, the sound making Taehyung’s chest warm. Then Jungkook’s expression turned shy again. He glanced around the hallway—students passing, voices echoing—and lowered his voice.

“Can we… be together here? Like… openly? Or is it too soon?”

Taehyung melted. Jungkook was so earnest, so careful, so afraid of overstepping—and yet brave enough to ask.

He didn’t answer with words.

Instead, he cupped Jungkook’s face with both hands, leaned in, and kissed him, right there in the middle of the main corridor.

Jungkook froze for half a second, then sighed into the kiss, hands settling on Taehyung’s waist like they belonged there. Students turned. Whispers started. Someone let out a soft “Oh…” from nearby.

Taehyung didn’t care.

He kissed Jungkook like he was claiming him in front of the entire university—because he was.

When they parted, Taehyung rested their foreheads together, smiling against Jungkook’s lips.

“We’re together,” he whispered. “And I’m proud of it. Let them look.”

Jungkook’s eyes shimmered—happy, overwhelmed, a little dazed.

“Okay,” he breathed.

Taehyung took his hand again, lacing their fingers tightly.

***

They had two hours set aside for training.

Jungkook suggested going to his place—he had an entire empty room dedicated to dance, cleared out just for that purpose.

Taehyung blinked in surprise when he heard it. It wasn’t something he’d expected from Jungkook, but the idea felt right.

Once they arrived, Jungkook gave him a quick tour of the apartment—spacious but modest, simple furniture, soft lighting, a few framed photos and dance posters on the walls. Taehyung noticed immediately,Jungkook’s scent was everywhere.

At first it was almost overwhelming, wrapped around Taehyung’s senses, soothing his wolf instantly. This was Jungkook’s territory, and being inside it felt like being claimed without a single word.

They set up the camera in the empty dance room—bare walls, polished floor, mirrors lining one side.

They warmed up slowly, filming every stretch, every roll of the shoulders. Taehyung kept stealing glances at Jungkook in the mirror, the way his muscles shifted under his shirt, the focused furrow of his brow, the quiet grace in every movement. It still stunned him sometimes—how someone so shy could move with such power when music played.

Once warm, they moved to the exercise the professor had assigned, advanced lifts.

Difficult ones.

Risky if the base wasn’t solid or the flyer wasn’t perfectly balanced. The kind of holds that demanded complete trust.

Jungkook eyed the sequence on his phone, worry creasing his forehead.

“You sure we can do this?”

Taehyung rolled his shoulders, already stepping into position. “Mhm. Lift me and I’ll handle the rest.”

The first few attempts were… rough.

Jungkook’s grip hesitated—too careful, afraid of hurting Taehyung, afraid of dropping him. His hands shook slightly on Taehyung’s waist, then on his thighs as he tried to hoist him into the high extension.

Taehyung wobbled mid-air, legs extended beautifully but balanced off by a fraction. They aborted the hold each time, Jungkook lowering him quickly, apologizing under his breath.

After the tenth failed try, Taehyung let out a frustrated huff and dropped back to the floor, hands on his hips.

“Fuck, this is getting on my nerves. It’s not that complicated…”

Jungkook frowned, wiping sweat from his brow.
“Maybe I should try lifting you differently at the start? Different grip, different angle?”

They experimented. Taehyung in a low dip first, then swinging up. Jungkook from behind, from the side. Nothing quite clicked. Each attempt ended in a near-fall or an early drop—Jungkook’s arms tiring, his confidence fraying.

On the final try, they almost had it.

Jungkook bent his knees, wrapped his arms under Taehyung’s thighs and around his back, and lifted—strong, steady at first. Taehyung arched, one leg shooting straight up in a perfect high extension, body curved in a dramatic line, arms sweeping out like wings.

For two glorious seconds they held it.

Jungkook’s base solid, Taehyung balanced, the mirror reflecting the most breathtaking duet image.

Then Jungkook’s grip slipped—just a fraction, exhaustion creeping in after so many attempts.

Taehyung tipped forward, head-first toward the floor.

Jungkook reacted instantly—arms snapping tight, twisting his body to catch Taehyung against his chest instead of letting him fall. They stumbled backward together, Jungkook’s back hitting the mirrored wall with a soft thud.

Taehyung’s heart slammed against his ribs, breath knocked out of him, but he was safe—cradled against Jungkook’s body, legs still wrapped around his waist, Jungkook’s arms locked like iron bands around him.

For a long second, neither moved.

Jungkook’s face was pale with panic, eyes wide and frantic. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you? Taehyung—”

Taehyung exhaled shakily, hands coming up to cup Jungkook’s face. “I’m fine. You caught me.”

Jungkook’s breath hitched. He didn’t let go—couldn’t. His grip stayed tight, protective, as if letting go might let Taehyung fall all over again.

“I’m so sorry. I got tired, I— I should’ve stopped earlier—”

Taehyung pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. “Hey. You caught me. That’s what matters.”

Jungkook’s eyes shimmered—relief, guilt, something deeper. “I never want to drop you again... Never.”

Taehyung smiled softly, thumb brushing over Jungkook’s cheekbone. “You won’t.”

He leaned in and kissed him—slow, reassuring, tasting the salt of sweat and the faint sweetness of relief.

Jungkook kissed back with desperate tenderness, arms still locked around Taehyung like he was the most precious thing in the world.

When they parted, Taehyung rested his forehead against Jungkook’s, still held aloft in his arms.

“Let’s film it again tomorrow,” he whispered. “We almost had it. We’ll get it perfect.”

***

After the training session, Jungkook headed straight for the shower while Taehyung made his way home to do the same.

The hot water helped ease the lingering tension in his muscles, but it couldn’t wash away the knot of frustration still sitting heavy in his chest.

He hadn’t been afraid of falling—not really.

Jungkook had caught him every single time, strong and steady even when exhaustion made his grip falter.

No, what bothered Taehyung was the failure itself. The pose had refused to click, no matter how many attempts they made. Dance had always been the one place where he refused to accept anything less than excellence, and today… they hadn’t gotten there.

Still, he trusted Jungkook completely. He knew—deep in his bones—that Jungkook would never let him fall. And that trust was more important than any perfect hold.

The professor had sent them the next set of lifts to prepare for the week, and Taehyung had glanced at the list on his phone during the walk home.

They were worse. Much worse.

Higher extensions, more precarious balances, transitions that demanded flawless timing and absolute faith in your partner. He swallowed. They would get it. They had to.

He was still toweling off his hair when his phone buzzed on the counter. The caller ID made him smile despite everything.

“Jin? Everything okay?”

“Hey, little brother,” came Jin’s warm, teasing voice. “I’m calling to check on you. You didn’t even text me after your first week at the new university! What kind of sibling are you?”

Taehyung laughed softly, leaning against the sink. “Oh, uh… everything’s good. Classes are cool.”

“You’ve made friends?”

Taehyung hesitated. He couldn’t tell Jin about Jungkook. Not yet. Jin was fiercely protective—loving, but overbearing.

The moment he heard there was an Alpha in Taehyung’s life, he’d show up unannounced, scent the apartment like a bloodhound, interrogate Jungkook, and give his official “approval” (or disapproval) with dramatic flair. Taehyung wasn’t ready for that circus.

“Mhm. But I still see Jimin and Namjoon a lot, you know…”

“Good. That’s good.” Jin sounded relieved. “So when are you inviting me over? I haven’t even seen your new apartment yet.”

“Come whenever you want, Jin. Just… let me know ahead of time. I might be in class.”

Or with Jungkook.

“No problem. I’ll come with Minyu—he’s been asking about you too.”

Taehyung smiled. “Mhm, no issue. You know I love your mate, hyung. Just… warn me, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, kid. I’ll warn you. I got it.”

They talked for a few more minutes—Jin complaining about work, Taehyung dodging questions about boys with practiced ease—before hanging up with promises to see each other soon.

Taehyung stared at his reflection in the mirror for a long moment after the call ended.

He wasn’t hiding Jungkook because he was ashamed. Far from it. He was hiding him because Jungkook deserved to be introduced gently.

Carefully. When they were both ready.

He smiled at himself—small, soft, a little lovesick.

Soon.

Very soon.

He grabbed his phone and opened his messages to Jungkook.

- Hey Jungkookie. Training tomorrow at your place? Same time? I’m already looking forward to it :)

The reply came almost immediately, three little dots dancing before the text appeared.

- Yes please 🥹
Miss you already

Taehyung’s heart did that stupid flip again.

- Miss you more
See you tomorrow ♡

He set the phone down, still smiling, and headed to the bed—still carrying faint traces of Jungkook’s scent.

Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

______________________________

Jungkook had been counting down the hours to their next training session.

The thought of Taehyung coming back to his apartment—stepping through the door, filling the space with that bright strawberry warmth—had kept him restless all day.

The previous night, after Taehyung left, Jungkook had lain in bed surrounded by the lingering traces of their mingled scents. It had been the best sleep he’d had in years in that apartment. But this morning that same apartment had felt too empty again.

Taehyung’s scent had faded from the air, from the pillows, from the blankets he’d dragged onto the couch just to feel closer to him. It left an ache Jungkook hadn’t expected.

They hadn’t seen each other all day.

Their schedules didn’t align—Taehyung had makeup classes to catch up on after his heat, and Jungkook had back-to-back lectures and a group critique.

By late afternoon, Jungkook was already home.

He’d finished early and spent the extra time tidying the dance room, setting up the camera tripod, and—on impulse—preparing a few snacks.

He arranged them neatly on the low table near the dance room door, heart beating a little too fast. He wanted Taehyung to feel welcomed. Maybe even sleep over again.

He checked his phone for the tenth time.

Taehyung’s last message was simple.

- On my way ♡ Be there in 15

Jungkook smiled at the little heart, thumb brushing over it like it was something precious.

Fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rang.

Jungkook opened the door so fast he almost tripped over his own feet.

Taehyung stood there—hair slightly messy from the wind, cheeks flushed from the walk, bag slung over one shoulder, eyes lighting up the second they met Jungkook’s.

“Hi,” Taehyung breathed, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

“Hi,” Jungkook echoed, closing the door and immediately pulling Taehyung into a hug.

Taehyung laughed softly against his shoulder, arms wrapping around Jungkook’s waist. “Missed you.”

“Missed you more,” Jungkook murmured into his hair, inhaling deeply. Strawberry sweetness bloomed against his senses, chasing away the emptiness that had lingered all day. His wolf settled instantly.

Taehyung pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes soft. “You okay? You looked nervous in your last text.”

Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, sheepish. “Just… wanted today to go well. And I made snacks. If you’re hungry.”

Taehyung’s smile widened—slow, delighted. “You cooked for me again?”

“Not cooked. Just… prepared.” Jungkook gestured toward the table. “Come see.”

Taehyung followed him into the living room, eyes widening at the neat little spread. “Jungkookie…” he said, voice going soft and fond. “You’re spoiling me.”

Jungkook’s ears turned pink. “I just… wanted you to feel comfortable. And maybe stay longer?”

Taehyung stepped closer, sliding his arms around Jungkook’s waist again. “I was already planning to.”

They stood like that for a moment—foreheads touching, breathing each other in—before Taehyung pulled back with a small, teasing grin.

“Come on. Let’s warm up. Then we tackle that monster lift.”

Jungkook nodded, heart full and light at the same time.

Chapter Text

They moved to the dance room after a quick snack break.

The camera was already rolling. They warmed up side by side—stretching, rolling shoulders, mirroring each other’s movements in the mirror like they’d been doing this forever.

The first lift—the one from yesterday—was easy this time. Jungkook’s arms were fresh, grip steady. Taehyung arched beautifully, leg extended high, body balanced perfectly. They held it for several seconds.

When Jungkook lowered him gently, Taehyung grinned wide. “Yes! I knew we’d nail it today.”

Jungkook smiled back, heart racing—not from effort, but from the way Taehyung looked at him.

The next lift, though…

The professor’s notes were clear, a high straight-arm hold, Taehyung fully extended overhead, supported only by Jungkook’s hands under his hips and upper thighs.

It demanded insane arm strength, core stability, and flawless balance from both. One shift in grip, one moment of fatigue, and it could end badly—wrists twisted, shoulders strained, or worse.

Jungkook eyed the sequence on his phone, worry creeping in. “You sure about this one?”

Taehyung rolled his wrists, stretched his arms overhead. “I’ve got good balance. It’ll be fine.”

They started slow—testing grips, weight distribution, entry points. Jungkook lifted Taehyung into a low hold first, then higher, feeling how Taehyung’s weight settled across his palms.

Taehyung adjusted mid-air—core tight, legs straight, arms sweeping out for balance. The first few tries were shaky but promising. They held it for three, four seconds before Jungkook lowered him carefully.

“Too heavy?” Taehyung teased, hopping down lightly.

“You’re light,” Jungkook said, a little breathless. “But this position is brutal. If my hand shifts even a little, it’s over.”

Taehyung nodded, wiping sweat from his brow. “And my hand keeps slipping on your shirt.”

Jungkook paused.

Then—without thinking—he reached for the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head in one smooth motion, tossing it aside. Bare chest, skin already glistening from warm-up, muscles shifting under the light.

Taehyung froze.

Then turned sharply away, back to him, ears bright red.

Jungkook blinked. “What?”

Taehyung’s voice came out strangled. “Can I ask why you’re suddenly stripping? This isn’t the time, idiot.”

Jungkook looked down at himself, then at Taehyung’s rigid back. “You said my shirt made your hand slip,” he explained, suddenly self-conscious. “I just… thought bare skin would give you better grip. That’s all.”

Taehyung stayed turned away for another second, shoulders tense. Then he let out a soft, embarrassed laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

He turned back slowly, eyes flicking over Jungkook’s bare torso—lingering on the lines of his collarbones, the faint definition of his chest, the way his arms flexed slightly as he shifted his weight. Taehyung swallowed.

“Okay,” he said, voice a little rougher than usual. “Let’s try again.”

Jungkook nodded, cheeks pink, but he stepped forward anyway.

This time, when he lifted, Taehyung’s hands found purchase on bare skin—palms pressing firmly against Jungkook’s shoulders for stability, fingers curling slightly for grip. Taehyung’s legs extended high, body arched in a perfect line, and Jungkook held—arms locked, core braced, eyes fixed upward on Taehyung’s face.

They held it.

Longer than before.

Taehyung’s breath came in shallow bursts, but his balance was flawless. Jungkook felt every shift of weight, every small adjustment Taehyung made mid-air, and adjusted instinctively.

When Jungkook finally lowered him, it was slow and controlled. Taehyung’s feet touched the floor, but neither of them stepped back. They stayed close—chests nearly brushing, breaths mingling, Taehyung’s hands still resting lightly on Jungkook’s bare shoulders.

Taehyung’s eyes were dark, pupils blown.
“We got it.”

Jungkook smiled—small, proud, a little dazed.
“Yeah. We did.”

Taehyung’s fingers flexed against Jungkook’s skin, then slid up to cup his face. “You’re incredible.”

Jungkook ducked his head, cheeks burning. “You’re the one who made it look easy.”

Taehyung leaned in, brushing a soft kiss against the corner of Jungkook’s mouth. “Team effort.”

They stood there for a moment until Taehyung pulled back with a teasing grin. “One more time. For the camera.”

Jungkook laughed softly, already stepping into position again. “Okay.”

***

The training session wrapped up smoothly.

They ran through both lifts one final time—clean, confident—for the camera.

When they finished, Taehyung dropped down lightly and high-fived him with a wide, triumphant grin.

“See? Told you we’d crush it today.”

Jungkook laughed, breathless and happy. “Yeah… we did.”

It was already late—later than they’d planned—so they decided to skip going out. Jungkook pulled up a delivery app and ordered pizza.

“Extra cheese, right?” he asked, remembering Taehyung’s preference from a casual conversation days ago.

Taehyung nodded enthusiastically, stealing one of Jungkook’s hoodies from the back of the couch and tugging it over his head while they waited.

The hoodie swallowed him—sleeves dangling past his fingertips, hem brushing his thighs—and Jungkook had to look away quickly before his face caught fire.

They ate cross-legged on the living room floor, TV playing some mindless drama neither of them was really watching.

They talked instead—about the professor’s notes, about other lifts they wanted to try, about random things that made them laugh until their sides hurt.

Pizza boxes pushed aside, they eventually migrated to the couch, Taehyung tucked against Jungkook’s side, head on his shoulder, Jungkook’s arm draped around him.

When the clock pushed past midnight and yawns started slipping out, Jungkook stood first.

“I’ll grab you something to sleep in,” he said, disappearing into his room and returning with a soft, oversized pajama set—gray cotton pants and a loose t-shirt. “These should fit… mostly.”

Taehyung took them with a small smile. “Thanks.”

Jungkook gestured toward the bathroom. “You go first. I’ll… change the sheets.”

Taehyung raised an eyebrow. “You’re changing the sheets just for me?”

Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly shy. “It’s the first time you’re sleeping here. I want it to be… nice.”

Taehyung’s expression softened. He stepped closer, and pressed a quick kiss to Jungkook’s cheek. “You’re sweet.”

Then he disappeared into the bathroom.

Jungkook exhaled shakily and hurried to strip the bed. He swapped the sheets for the cleanest set he owned and even made the nest of blankets Taehyung seemed to love so much. He added an extra pillow, smoothed everything down, and stood back, suddenly nervous.

What if Taehyung thought it was too much? What if—

The bathroom door opened.

Jungkook turned—and froze.

Taehyung stood in the doorway, hair damp and tousled, still dripping slightly at the ends. The borrowed t-shirt hung loose on his frame, slipping off one shoulder to reveal smooth collarbone and the gentle curve where neck met shoulder.

The pants were rolled at the cuffs, too long. He smelled clean, warm, like soap and strawberries.

Jungkook’s mouth went dry.

Taehyung tilted his head, noticing the stare. “What?”

“You look…” Jungkook swallowed. “Really cute.”

Taehyung’s cheeks flushed pink. He ducked his head, suddenly shy, fingers playing with the hem of the too-big shirt. “Shut up.”

Jungkook laughed softly and grabbed a clean towel from the stack. “Come here.”

Taehyung obeyed, perching on the edge of the bed. Jungkook knelt behind him, and began gently toweling Taehyung’s hair. He worked slowly—rubbing the damp strands between the folds of the towel, fingers occasionally brushing Taehyung’s scalp in soothing circles.

“You’ll get sick if you sleep with wet hair,” Jungkook murmured.

Taehyung let out a quiet, contented hum. His scent shifted—sweetening, softening, the strawberry note blooming warmer and more inviting. “…Thank you.”

Jungkook smiled against the back of Taehyung’s head. “Anytime.”

When the hair was mostly dry and soft, Jungkook set the towel aside and pressed a light kiss to the crown of Taehyung’s head. “Your turn to wait. I’ll be quick.”

He disappeared into the bathroom, showered fast, and came back in his own sleep clothes—simple black t-shirt and sweatpants. Taehyung was already under the covers, curled on his side, watching him with sleepy eyes.

Jungkook slid in behind him, hesitating only a second before wrapping his arms around Taehyung’s waist and pulling him close. Taehyung sighed happily, backing up until his back was flush against Jungkook’s chest.

“Comfy?” Jungkook whispered.

“Perfect.”

Jungkook nuzzled into the back of Taehyung’s neck, breathing him in. “Goodnight, Tae.”

“Goodnight, Jungkookie.”

________________________________

Taehyung stirred in the middle of the night, bladder insistent enough to pull him from sleep.

He slipped carefully out of Jungkook’s arms—careful not to wake him—and padded to the bathroom.

When he returned, Jungkook was half-awake—propped up on one elbow, hair mussed, eyes bleary and searching.

“Jungkookie?” Taehyung whispered, sliding back under the covers.

“…Where were you…?” Jungkook mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

“To the bathroom.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything else. He simply reached out, hooked an arm around Taehyung’s waist, and pulled him close again—chest to back, legs tangling, face immediately burying in the crook of Taehyung’s neck. His hold was tight, almost desperate, like Taehyung had been gone for hours instead of minutes.

Taehyung huffed a soft laugh. “You’re so clingy, Jungkookie… I can’t even go to the bathroom in peace.”

“Your scent faded suddenly,” Jungkook murmured against his skin, still drowsy but earnest. “It woke me up.”

Taehyung’s heart squeezed. He reached back, threading his fingers through Jungkook’s hair, rubbing gently at his scalp.

“I’m back now. Sleep, okay? Big clingy baby.”

Jungkook let out a sleepy, contented hum and nuzzled closer, arms locking around Taehyung’s waist. Within seconds, his breathing evened out again—deep, slow, peaceful.

Taehyung smiled into the dark.
“Goodnight, Jungkookie.”

***

The next day dragged.

No shared classes, no training session.

Just long, dry lectures that blurred together—professors droning, slides clicking, Taehyung’s mind wandering back to Jungkook every few minutes.

He’d scented Jungkook thoroughly that morning before leaving—cheek pressed to his neck, wrists rubbed along his collarbone, leaving his strawberry sweetness all over him. But Jungkook hadn’t scented him back. Not the way Taehyung craved.

The stronger suppressants helped at first.

His scent stayed muted through most of the day.

But by the last lecture—late afternoon, stuffy classroom, too many bodies—the medication was wearing thin.

An Alpha two rows behind him leaned forward during a break. “Come on, just one date. You’re cute. I’m sure we’d have fun.”

Taehyung didn’t even turn around.

“Your scent makes me nauseous, and I already have someone. Leave me alone.”

The Alpha chuckled, undeterred. “But he hasn’t claimed you yet. Can’t be that serious if he’s letting you walk around unmarked.”

“It’s recent.”

“So?”

Taehyung finally turned, eyes flashing gold for a split second before he forced them back to normal. His voice dropped—low, dangerous.

“Listen to me, you rutting Alpha. You don’t interest me. With or without a mate, I wouldn’t want you. So either leave it now, or I report you for harassment to the professor. Your choice.”

The Alpha’s smirk vanished. He muttered something under his breath and slid back in his seat.

Taehyung exhaled sharply, fingers trembling with anger. Not at Jungkook but at these idiots who thought they could push, who thought an unmarked Omega was fair game, who dared question Jungkook’s commitment when they didn’t even know him.

He pulled out his phone under the desk and typed quickly.

- Tonight. My place. We need to talk.

The reply came almost immediately.

- Taehyung? Is everything okay? Did I do something wrong?

Taehyung sighed, thumbs hovering. He wasn’t angry at Jungkook. He was angry at the world for making Jungkook doubt himself even for a second.

- No. Don’t worry, Jungkookie. Everything’s fine. Just… come over tonight. Please.

- Okay. I’ll be there. ♡

Taehyung stared at the little heart, anger softening into something warmer, softer.

He wasn’t going to let anyone make Jungkook feel like he wasn’t enough.

Not anymore.

***

Jungkook arrived at Taehyung’s apartment much faster than Taehyung had expected.

The moment the door opened, Taehyung could see the tension radiating off him—shoulders slightly hunched, eyes wide and searching, scent carrying a faint edge of worry beneath the usual cedar and rain.

Taehyung didn’t give him time to speak.

He stepped forward immediately, wrapping his arms around Jungkook’s waist and pulling him into a tight, grounding hug. Jungkook stiffened for half a second in surprise, then melted against him, arms coming around Taehyung’s shoulders, face burying instinctively in the crook of his neck.

“Hey,” Taehyung murmured against his hair. “Don’t worry, Jungkookie. Everything’s okay. That idiot just pissed me off.”

Jungkook’s voice came out muffled, hesitant.
“What… what are you talking about?”

Taehyung pulled back just enough to look at him, keeping their bodies close, hands sliding up to frame Jungkook’s face.

“Some Alpha in my last lecture. He kept pushing—wanted to take me out, saying I wasn’t claimed yet. That if I had an Alpha, he would’ve marked me already…”

Jungkook’s eyes dropped immediately. Guilt flashed across his face, raw and familiar.
“Oh…”

Taehyung’s thumbs brushed over his cheekbones, gentle but firm. “I want your scent on me, Jungkook. All the time.”

Jungkook’s gaze snapped back up, wide and uncertain. “You… you’re sure, Taehyung? I don’t want to—”

“I’m sure.” Taehyung’s voice was steady, eyes locked on his. “I want everyone to know I’m your Omega. That you’re my Alpha.”

For a moment Jungkook just stared—eyes shimmering, lips parted in disbelief. Then a slow, shaky smile spread across his face, so bright and vulnerable it made Taehyung’s chest ache.

“Tae…” Jungkook whispered. “I… okay. Yeah. Okay.”

Taehyung’s smile softened. He leaned in and kissed Jungkook—slow, tender, reassuring—pouring all the certainty he felt into it. Jungkook kissed back with the same careful intensity, hands sliding to Taehyung’s waist, holding on like he was afraid this might vanish if he let go.

When they parted, Taehyung rested their foreheads together.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s do this properly.”

He led Jungkook to the bedroom. Taehyung climbed in first, settling against the pillows.

Jungkook hesitated only a second before following, crawling in and settling behind him. He pressed close—chest to Taehyung’s back, legs tangling, face immediately finding the curve of Taehyung’s neck.

Taehyung tilted his head, exposing the soft skin just over his scent gland. “Here,” he whispered. “Please.”

Jungkook exhaled shakily. Then he leaned in.

His nose brushed the spot first—gentle, reverent—then his cheek, dragging slowly across the gland. His scent poured out in steady, deliberate waves, warm cedar and rain, rich and grounding, sinking into Taehyung’s skin.

Jungkook’s lips followed—soft kisses pressed along the column of Taehyung’s throat, then a gentle suck right over the gland itself. Not a bite. Not yet.

Taehyung shivered, a soft, needy sound escaping him. His own scent answered—strawberry sweetness blooming brighter, warmer, wrapping around Jungkook’s in perfect harmony.

Jungkook didn’t stop there. He scented Taehyung’s wrists next—rubbing his own gland against them in slow circles—then the inside of his elbows, the hollow of his throat, even the sensitive spot behind his ear. Every touch was careful, intentional, like he was painting his claim across Taehyung’s skin.

When he finally pulled back, Taehyung turned in his arms, eyes half-lidded, cheeks flushed.

Jungkook looked dazed, pupils blown, breathing uneven.

“You smell like me now,” he whispered, almost in awe.

Taehyung smiled, reaching up to cup Jungkook’s face. “Good. Because I’m yours.”

Jungkook’s eyes shimmered. He leaned in and kissed Taehyung again—deeper this time, slower, tasting like relief and wonder and quiet joy.

When they parted, Jungkook rested his forehead against Taehyung’s, voice barely audible. “I’m yours too.”

Taehyung’s heart squeezed. He pulled Jungkook down until they were lying side by side, limbs tangled, faces inches apart.

“Stay tonight?” Taehyung asked, though he already knew the answer.

Jungkook nodded, arms tightening around him.
“Of course.”

***

The next morning, Jungkook was in the shower while Taehyung stood at the stove, flipping pancakes and humming softly under his breath.

They didn’t have classes until the afternoon, so the apartment felt lazy and warm. He smiled to himself, still a little giddy from waking up tangled in Jungkook’s arms, from the soft kisses they’d traded before Jungkook reluctantly got up to shower.

A sharp knock at the door startled him.

Taehyung frowned. He wasn’t expecting anyone.
He wiped his hands on a dish towel and went to open it.

The moment the door swung wide, his stomach dropped.

Jin stood there.

Flanked by Minyu, his mate, who gave a small, amused wave.

“Surprise!” Jin sang, already stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “Your big brother missed you! And look—I even brought Minyu. He’s been dying to see the new place.”

Taehyung blinked, frozen in the doorway.
“J-Jin?”

Jin breezed past him, looking around with exaggerated interest. “Wow, cozy! You’ve really made it your own—”

He stopped dead mid-sentence.

His nostrils flared. His head snapped toward Taehyung.

“Taehyung,” he said slowly, dangerously calm. “What is that smell?”

Taehyung’s mouth went dry.
“Uh… it’s—”

The bathroom door opened at the worst possible moment.

Jungkook stepped out—hair damp, towel slung low on his hips, wearing nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants he must have grabbed quickly. He was mid-sentence, voice casual and sleepy.

“Tae, are you still coming over tonight? For training—”

He froze when he saw Jin.

Taehyung winced.

Jin’s eyebrows shot up so high they nearly disappeared into his hairline. He looked from Taehyung to Jungkook, then back again. A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face.

“Ohhh,” Jin drawled. “Now I understand why you were so insistent I warn you before coming over, you little liar.”

Chapter Text

Jungkook’s eyes widened in panic. He took a small step back, clutching the towel at his waist like a lifeline.

“I—I should probably… go—”

Taehyung’s hand shot out, grabbing Jungkook’s wrist before he could bolt.

“Jungkook, wait. This is my brother Jin. And his mate, Minyu.” He turned to Jin, voice small but steady. “Jin… this is Jungkook. My… Alpha.”

Jin’s eyes went comically wide. “Your… Alpha? Since when? You’ve been here for, what, two weeks?”

Taehyung scratched the back of his neck, cheeks burning. “Yeah…”

Jin stared. Then stared harder. “Wait. You two… seriously?”

Taehyung nodded, voice barely above a whisper.
“Yeah.”

Jungkook looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. He stood there—half-dressed, hair dripping, scent spiking with nervous cedar—trying to disappear into the background. He didn’t say a word.

Jin crossed his arms, tilting his head as he studied Jungkook like he was appraising a particularly suspicious piece of art.

“Well,” Jin finally said, voice deceptively light. “This is… unexpected.”

Taehyung stepped slightly in front of Jungkook—protective. “He’s good, Jin. Really good.”

Jin raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sure he is.”

Minyu placed a gentle hand on Jin’s arm and smiled at Jungkook. “It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook. Taehyung talks about his dance partner a lot.”

Jungkook managed a tiny, mortified wave.
“Hi…”

Jin sighed dramatically, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Fine. I won’t interrogate him… yet. But we are staying for breakfast. And you—” he pointed at Taehyung “—are telling me everything.”

Taehyung groaned, but relief flooded through him anyway. “Okay. But be nice.”

Jin smirked. “I’m always nice.”

He turned to Jungkook, softening just a fraction.
“And you—put a shirt on before I decide you’re not good enough for my baby brother.”

Jungkook nodded so fast his damp hair flopped into his eyes. “Y-yes, hyung.”

Taehyung bit back a laugh, tugging Jungkook gently toward the bedroom to change while Jin and Minyu made themselves at home in the kitchen.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Taehyung pulled Jungkook into a quick, fierce hug.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t know he’d just show up.”

Jungkook exhaled shakily, arms wrapping around Taehyung’s waist. “It’s okay. He’s… protective. I get it.”

Taehyung pulled back, cupping Jungkook’s face.
“He’ll love you. Once he sees how good you are to me.”

Jungkook’s eyes softened. “I hope so.”

Taehyung kissed him—soft, quick, reassuring.
“He will. Now go put a shirt on before Jin actually starts interrogating you shirtless.”

Jungkook laughed and nodded.

They had breakfast to survive.
And a brother to win over.

***

“Alright… I want to know everything, Tae. Spill.”

Jungkook sat beside Taehyung, but he didn’t look comfortable at all. His shoulders were tense, his hands clasped tightly in his lap, eyes darting between Taehyung and Jin like he was waiting for the inevitable judgment.

Taehyung noticed immediately. Without a word, he reached over and laid his hand on Jungkook’s thigh under the table. Jungkook exhaled softly, shoulders dropping just a fraction.

Taehyung turned back to Jin, voice calm but firm.
“From the very first day, he was assigned as my guide. And… after he protected me—even though he clearly needed more protection than I did—my wolf reacted. He imprinted. Then we became dance partners, and—”

“Wait, wait, wait—slow down.” Jin held up a hand. “Imprinted? Seriously?”

“Yes.”

Jin’s gaze shifted to Jungkook.
“And you?”

Jungkook glanced at Taehyung, silently asking for permission. Taehyung gave a small nod. “I… realized it after his heat,” Jungkook said quietly.

Jin’s eyebrows shot up.
“His… heat?”

Taehyung jumped in before Jungkook could sink further into embarrassment. “No, hyung—we didn’t do anything. He just walked me home when it hit suddenly. He stayed because I asked him to. He helped me all night—remade my nest, scented me to calm me down, held me until Jimin arrived in the morning. He didn’t ask for anything. He was just… there.”

Jin leaned back, arms crossed, processing. “And you, Jungkook,” he said after a moment, “you knew what it meant to stay with an Omega in heat—even without doing anything?”

Jungkook nodded, eyes on his hands. “Yes, hyung. I knew it was… important. But I couldn’t leave him alone. Not like that.”

Jin exhaled through his nose, long and slow. “You realize you just told an extremely protective older brother that you spent an entire night with his little brother during heat… and didn’t touch him?”

Jungkook swallowed hard. “Yes, hyung.”

Jin stared at him for another long beat.

Then—slowly—a small, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Okay. Points for honesty. And for not taking advantage.”

Taehyung felt a wave of relief wash through him.

“But,” Jin continued, raising a finger, “that doesn’t mean I fully approve yet. Not even close. I want to see you in action, little Alpha. I want to see how you treat him day-to-day. How you protect him. How you make him happy.”

Jungkook nodded seriously. “I’ll do everything I can.”

Jin turned back to Taehyung, softer this time. “And you… you’re really sure? Like—really sure?”

Taehyung squeezed Jungkook’s thigh under the table. “More sure than I’ve ever been about anything, hyung.”

Jin sighed—a long-suffering big-brother sigh—but the tension in his shoulders eased just a little.
“Fine. For now, I’ll back off. But I’m watching you, Jungkook.” He pointed one finger at him. “And if you ever make him cry—even once—I will find you. And you will regret it.”

Jungkook swallowed again, but his voice was steady when he answered. “I’d never make him cry. Not on purpose. Never.”

Jin studied him for another moment, then gave a single, decisive nod. “Good. Then… welcome to the family, I guess.”

Taehyung’s heart unclenched completely. He turned to Jungkook, smiling so wide it hurt, and whispered against his ear. “See? He already loves you.”

Jungkook let out a small, nervous laugh.
“I… I think I might survive this.”

Taehyung laughed softly and pressed a kiss to his temple. “Yeah. You will.”

And for the first time since Jin walked through the door, Jungkook finally relaxed—leaning into Taehyung’s side, hand finding Taehyung’s under the table, fingers lacing together.

Jin watched them—half amused, half suspicious, and—deep down—already a little fond.

But Taehyung knew, Jin would come around.
Because no one could meet Jungkook and not love him.

And because Taehyung already loved him more than anything in the world.

__________________________________

The afternoon stretched out lazily.

With classes not starting until five, Jin and Minyu decided to stay—filling Taehyung’s small apartment with easy conversation, laughter, and the occasional teasing remark from Jin.

Jungkook felt the knot in his stomach loosen little by little. Jin was still watching him closely, but the sharp edge of suspicion had dulled.

Minyu, on the other hand, was effortlessly kind—gentle questions, warm smiles, no judgment.

At some point, Jin and Taehyung got absorbed in a silly phone game on the couch, leaving Jungkook and Minyu alone in the kitchen corner.

Minyu leaned against the counter, casual. “Your scent used to be faint, right? Before Taehyung.”

Jungkook nodded, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve. “Yeah… Doctors never really figured out why. They said it would change once I… cared about someone. And… I guess they were right. Taehyung woke something up in me. Not just my wolf.”

Minyu smiled softly. “You really love him, don’t you?”

Jungkook’s cheeks warmed. He glanced toward the living room where Taehyung was laughing at something Jin said.

“Yeah. A lot. But… I’m scared. Last time, my scent suddenly getting stronger… it triggered his heat out of nowhere. I saw how much he suffered. I never want to cause that again.”

Minyu chuckled quietly. “Heats are like ruts, you know. Crude as it sounds, the best way to ease them is… intimacy. And it’s even better with an official partner.”

Jungkook’s face went scarlet. “I… I know. But… I’d rather not. Doing it during those times feels…”

“You’re afraid of losing control?”

Jungkook nodded, voice small. “Taehyung means everything to me. If I hurt him—even by accident—I’d never forgive myself.”

Minyu reached over and ruffled Jungkook’s hair gently, like an older brother.

“You’re a good Alpha, Jungkook. Always thinking of your Omega first. What about the bite? Are you planning it soon, or…?”

“We’re scenting each other for now. The bite is… permanent. I’d rather wait a little. I don’t want Taehyung to regret choosing me.”

Minyu’s smile was warm, but his brow furrowed slightly. “Jungkook… you know that—”

“What are you two talking about?” Jin’s voice cut in suddenly as he walked over, arms crossed, eyebrow raised.

Minyu grinned and winked at Jungkook. “Nothing, babe. Just Alpha-to-Alpha talk.”

Jin squinted suspiciously but let it drop, turning back to Taehyung. Minyu gave Jungkook a subtle, reassuring nod before following.

Jungkook exhaled slowly.

Jin paused in the doorway, looking back at him.

“Hey,” Jin said, voice quieter now. “I don’t have anything against you, kid. It’s just… I’ve been looking out for Taehyung for a long time. Every Alpha he’s ever been near turned out to be an asshole. Even if there were only two, and nothing serious. So when he suddenly presents me with an Alpha who already smells like him—and who he imprinted on in one day… I have reasons to be cautious.”

Jungkook lowered his gaze. “I understand, hyung.”

“But,” Jin continued, softer, “you seem like a good guy. A little shy, sure, but Taehyung will help with that. My brother is a reckless little brat anyway.”

____________________________________

From the couch, Taehyung tried to listen in on Jin and Jungkook’s conversation, anxiety prickling under his skin.

“Hey… don’t worry,” Minyu said quietly beside him. “Your brother already likes him. I can smell it.”

“I’d rather hear it from his mouth,” Taehyung muttered. “He’s stressful, and Jungkook still struggles to embrace his Alpha side.”

“Mhm, I noticed. He’s afraid of hurting you during sex. And during your next heat—or even his own rut. That’s why he holds back. He’s terrified of losing control.”

Taehyung wasn’t surprised by the directness—Minyu had always been blunt—but hearing it out loud still made his chest tighten.

“It’ll happen when it happens,” he said softly. “No need to rush him.”

“I’m telling you so you can reassure him. That Alpha is incredibly considerate toward you. Lucky you.”

Taehyung smiled—shy, a little embarrassed, but undeniably happy. “I know it’s early… but I think I really like him. A lot. You get it.”

“You should tell him, then.” Minyu grinned. “And don’t worry—I won’t tell Jin. Though he’s probably already guessed.”

Taehyung glanced toward the kitchen where Jin was now teasing Jungkook about something, and Jungkook was laughing.

Yeah.

He’d tell him.

Soon.

Very soon.

***

Taehyung walked home alone after class, his body felt heavy—exhausted from the emotional whirlwind of Jin’s surprise visit, the tension of the morning, and the quiet relief that followed when Jin finally left with Minyu.

He was tired, yes, but his mind wouldn’t stop turning. The conversation with Minyu kept replaying in his head.

Jungkook was scared.

Not of Taehyung—but of himself. Of what his wolf might do once the leash loosened. Of losing control during a heat, during a rut, during any moment where instinct drowned out reason.

Taehyung could picture it so clearly, Jungkook’s wide eyes, the way his hands would freeze mid-touch, the quiet guilt already written across his face before anything even happened.

And yet… Jungkook’s wolf had been nothing but gentle with him. Even when Taehyung’s heat had turned him desperate and shameless, Jungkook had held back without ever crossing a line. That kind of restraint wasn’t weakness.

It was strength.

Taehyung’s own wolf stirred at the thought. Jungkook’s wolf was incredibly caring. It wouldn’t force him. Wouldn’t hurt him.

But Jungkook didn’t see it that way.

He was afraid of his own hunger. Afraid that once the dam broke, his wolf would be too greedy, too shameless, too much for Taehyung to handle—especially since Jungkook had no experience.

He probably thought one wrong move, one too-eager touch, and Taehyung would pull away.

The idea made Taehyung’s chest ache.

He unlocked his apartment door and stepped inside, kicking off his shoes and dropping his bag.

Taehyung walked straight to the bed, pulled one of the blankets around his shoulders, and sank onto the couch.

He missed him.

Even though they’d only been apart a few hours, the absence felt sharp. His wolf paced restlessly inside him, whining softly. It wanted Jungkook back—wanted his arms, his scent.

***

Taehyung lingered in the bed for a few more minutes. Eventually he forced himself up, showered quickly, and threw together a simple meal. He ate mechanically, mind elsewhere.

Before climbing back into bed, he grabbed his phone and opened their chat.

- Are you asleep..?

- No

The reply was too short. Too flat. Jungkook usually sent at least a heart, an emoji.

This felt… wrong.

They’d parted on good terms earlier—hands brushing in the hallway, a quick kiss stolen behind the corner of the building before classes started.

Nothing had gone wrong.

Or had it?

- Jungkookie, are you okay?

- I’m fine.

Taehyung stared at the words.
“I’m fine” was never just “I’m fine” with Jungkook. Not when it came this fast.

He didn’t even think twice.

- I’m coming over.

It was one in the morning now, Taehyung yanked on an oversized hoodie, shoved his feet into sneakers, and grabbed his keys.

No time for second thoughts. Whatever was wrong, he wasn’t letting Jungkook face it alone.

The walk to Jungkook’s apartment felt endless.

He didn’t know what had happened—maybe Jin’s visit had left more marks than he realized, maybe the weight of the day had finally caught up, maybe Jungkook’s wolf was restless again—but it didn’t matter.

He reached the door and knocked.

No answer.

He knocked again. Harder.

Still nothing.

He kept knocking, voice low but insistent. “Jungkook? You’re scaring me. Open the door, please.”

Ten minutes passed. Taehyung’s knuckles were red, his breathing uneven.

Finally—movement. A shuffle behind the door. A weak voice, muffled through the wood.

“T-Taehyung…? Why are you here? I didn’t ask you to come…”

Jungkook’s voice was faint, distant, cracked.

Taehyung pressed his forehead against the door.
“Jungkook… please. Tell me what’s wrong.”

The lock clicked.

The door opened a crack.

Taehyung’s breath caught.

Jungkook stood there—face bruised, one eye swollen, lip split. He was holding himself strangely, one arm wrapped protectively around his ribs, posture hunched like every breath hurt.

His scent hit Taehyung like a wave, fear, shame, pain, all tangled together under the familiar cedar and rain.

Taehyung’s blood turned to ice, then fire. “What… what happened?” His voice shook—with worry, with fury. “Jungkook—who did this to you? Who?”

Jungkook tried to step back, but Taehyung was already moving—pushing the door open, stepping inside, closing it behind him. He reached for Jungkook gently, supporting him as he guided him to the couch.

“Jungkook. Answer me.”

Jungkook sank down, wincing. His voice was small, broken. “L-Leave me… I—I’m not an Alpha… I’m useless… weak… I—”

Taehyung dropped to his knees in front of him, arms wrapping around Jungkook as carefully as possible.

He pressed his face to Jungkook’s neck and released his scent—maximum strength, warm strawberry sweetness flooding the room, soft and soothing, trying to drown out the pain and fear.

Jungkook shuddered once, then leaned into him, hiding his face against Taehyung’s shoulder.
Taehyung held him tighter.

Then he stood, still holding Jungkook’s hand. “I’m getting something to clean you up. Stay here.”

He moved to the bathroom, found the first-aid kit, wet a cloth with cool water, and grabbed antiseptic and bandages. When he returned, Jungkook hadn’t moved—just sat there, head bowed, looking small and defeated.

Taehyung knelt again, tilting Jungkook’s chin up gently. “Tell me who did this,” he said quietly, voice trembling with barely contained rage. “And I’ll make sure they never touch you again.”

Jungkook’s eyes shimmered—tears threatening to spill.

Taehyung’s heart broke.

He leaned in and pressed the cool cloth to the split lip, careful, tender. “You’re not weak,” he whispered. “You’re not useless. You’re my Alpha. And no one—no one—gets to hurt you.”

Jungkook’s breath hitched.

Taehyung kept cleaning the bruises, the cuts, every touch soft and steady.

He knelt in front of Jungkook on the couch, voice soft but steady as he gently lifted the hem of Jungkook’s shirt just enough to check the damage.

Dark bruises were already blooming across his ribs—ugly purple and blue splotches that made Taehyung’s stomach twist with fresh fury.

“Does it hurt here too?” he asked quietly, fingertips hovering just above the worst spot without touching.

Jungkook sniffled, eyes glassy, voice small.
“Mhm.”

Taehyung’s jaw tightened. “You want me to take you to a doctor?”

“No,” Jungkook answered immediately, almost too fast. He shook his head, wincing at the movement. “No hospitals. Please.”

Taehyung exhaled sharply through his nose, frustration and worry warring in his chest. He cupped Jungkook’s face with both hands, thumbs brushing carefully over the swollen cheek, the split lip.

“I don’t know who did this to you yet,” he said, voice low and dangerous, “but they’re going to suffer for it. I refuse to let anyone hurt you like this.”

“Tae—”

“No, Jungkook. No.”

He helped Jungkook stand slowly, one arm wrapped securely around his waist to support his weight. Jungkook leaned into him heavily, breaths shallow and pained. Taehyung guided him step by step to the bedroom, easing him down onto the mattress with infinite care—propping pillows behind his back, making sure nothing pressed too hard against the bruised ribs.

Once Jungkook was settled, Taehyung sat on the edge of the bed, eyes never leaving his face.

“I… I don’t want you getting in trouble because of me,” Jungkook whispered. “I couldn’t stand it if they hurt you too.”

Taehyung’s expression hardened. “And I’m supposed to just accept it? Let someone beat you until you’re marked like this? Jungkook—I want to commit a massacre right now. Just because I’m an Omega doesn’t mean I can’t hit an Alpha. I’m going to—”

“No.” Jungkook’s voice cracked. “They’re too many… You…”

“I don’t care.”

Taehyung’s eyes flashed gold for a heartbeat—his wolf surging forward, furious, protective, ready to tear apart anyone who’d dared lay hands on his Alpha. He leaned closer, pressing his forehead gently to Jungkook’s.

“They touched what’s mine,” he whispered, voice trembling with rage and something deeper. “They don’t get to walk away from that.”

Jungkook closed his eyes, a tear slipping free.
“Tae… please. Just… stay with me tonight. That’s all I need.”

Taehyung’s anger didn’t vanish—but it softened, redirected. He shifted onto the bed carefully, sliding behind Jungkook so he could spoon him from the back—arms wrapped protectively around his waist, avoiding the worst of the bruising.

He pressed his face into the back of Jungkook’s neck and scented him deeply—strawberry sweetness pouring out in soothing waves, trying to drown out the fear and pain.

“I’m here,” Taehyung murmured against his skin. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jungkook let out a shaky breath, body finally relaxing just a little in Taehyung’s hold.

Taehyung kissed the nape of his neck—soft, careful. “We’ll deal with whoever did this tomorrow,” he promised quietly.

Jungkook’s hand found Taehyung’s where it rested over his stomach. He laced their fingers together.

Taehyung held him tighter.
No one was touching his Alpha again.

Chapter Text

The next day, Jungkook returned to university with Taehyung practically glued to his side.

Taehyung hadn’t let go of him since the moment they left the apartment that morning—hand in hand down the hallway, shoulder pressed to shoulder in the corridors, Taehyung’s arm looped through his during every walk between buildings.

Jungkook appreciated the protectiveness more than he could say. The constant presence of Taehyung’s warmth, his strawberry scent, his quiet but fierce determination—it made the bruises on his ribs hurt a little less.

But guilt gnawed at him anyway.

“You shouldn’t skip your classes just to stay with me…” Jungkook murmured during a quiet moment between lectures, voice low as they stood near the lockers.

Taehyung didn’t even look up from where he was adjusting the strap of Jungkook’s bag on his shoulder.

“I’m staying. Until those bastards show themselves.”

Jungkook sighed. Taehyung was stubborn and Jungkook knew better than to argue when his Omega had that look in his eyes.

The bruises on Jungkook’s face and body had drawn stares all morning. Swollen cheek, split lip, the way he held himself carefully to avoid jostling his ribs—people noticed.

Whispers followed them in the halls. But no one said anything directly. No one dared, not with Taehyung walking beside him like a guard dog, golden eyes flashing warning every time someone looked too long.

The attackers weren’t from their major.

They were older students, Alphas from different departments who crossed paths with Jungkook in the main corridors and the entrance hall.

Yesterday, just before he’d headed home, they’d cornered him in a quiet stairwell—four against one.

They’d beaten him until he blacked out.

All because of jealousy. Childish, pathetic jealousy.

Because Jungkook—an Alpha they’d mocked for years as “weak,” “fake,” “scentless”—had somehow found an Omega. A beautiful, talented, fearless Omega who looked at him like he hung the moon.

And they couldn’t stand it.

Jungkook hadn’t fought back. He couldn’t. Not against four.

Not when his wolf had been trained for so long to stay small, stay quiet, stay invisible.

He still felt the shame of it—the helplessness, the way he’d curled up and taken the hits instead of roaring back. He hated that Taehyung had to see him like this. Hated even more that Taehyung now felt like he had to protect him.

They walked in silence for a while. Taehyung’s thumb kept brushing soothing circles over the back of Jungkook’s hand.

Eventually, Jungkook spoke again, voice barely above a whisper. “I… I should’ve fought back. I’m sorry.”

Taehyung stopped walking. He turned fully to face him, eyes fierce and soft at the same time.

“Don’t,” he said quietly. “Don’t apologize for that. You were alone against four. That’s not a fair fight—that’s just cruelty.”

Jungkook looked down.
“But I’m supposed to be—”

“You’re supposed to be safe,” Taehyung interrupted, voice firm. “You’re supposed to be better than them. And you are. That’s all I care about.”

He stepped closer, rising on his toes to press a soft kiss to the unbruised corner of Jungkook’s mouth.

“I’m not letting them near you again,” Taehyung whispered. “Not one of them.”

Jungkook’s throat tightened. He leaned his forehead against Taehyung’s, breathing him in—strawberry sweetness, fierce protectiveness, unwavering love.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured.

Taehyung huffed a small, fond laugh. “You deserve everything.” He took Jungkook’s hand again, lacing their fingers tightly. “Come on. We have class in ten minutes. And I’m not leaving your side until those cowards are dealt with.”

Jungkook let himself be led forward, heart aching with gratitude.

Taehyung wasn’t running.

Taehyung wasn’t scared.

Taehyung was angry—for him.

And that… that made Jungkook feel stronger than he ever had before.

***

The end of the day came too soon.

With Jungkook’s ribs still bruised and painful, training was out of the question. They decided to head to Taehyung’s place—it was closer, and the walk would be shorter on Jungkook’s body.

They stepped out of the arts building together, Taehyung’s arm looped carefully through Jungkook’s, supporting him without making it obvious.

And then they walked straight into them.

The four Alphas from yesterday stood blocking the path—arms crossed, smirks sharp and ugly.

Their scents hit like a slap, aggressive musk, sharp pine, cheap cologne layered over arrogance.

“Oh, look at that,” the leader drawled, eyes raking over Taehyung. “Cute. The weakling’s got a guard dog now.”

Taehyung’s grip on Jungkook’s arm tightened. His voice came out low and venomous. “Shut your mouth, you piece of shit.”

The Alpha laughed, turning fully toward Taehyung, towering over him. “And what are you gonna do about it, Omega? You’re not even close to handling four older Alphas.”

Jungkook’s voice cut through before Taehyung could answer—quiet, but steel-edged.

“Don’t threaten him.”

The group burst into mocking laughter. “Aww, protecting your little Omega sweetheart?” the leader sneered. “You couldn’t beat us yesterday. You really think you can do better today?”

Taehyung stepped forward, placing himself slightly in front of Jungkook, eyes blazing gold. “You know what?” he said, voice cold and steady. “You’re pathetic. All of you. You’re jealous that Jungkook found an Omega while you’re stuck being disgusting, cruel losers no one will ever love. You don’t deserve to be loved the way I love—”

The leader’s hand shot up, aiming to strike Taehyung across the face.

Jungkook moved faster than thought.

He caught the wrist mid-air—grip iron-tight, trembling with rage. His eyes flashed crimson, pupils blown wide, wolf surging to the surface with brutal clarity.

“Touch him,” Jungkook growled, voice low and lethal, “and you’re dead.”

The courtyard went silent.

The Alpha’s smirk vanished. He tried to yank his arm back, but Jungkook’s hold didn’t budge. The other three took instinctive steps backward, eyes wide, scents spiking with sudden fear.

Jungkook’s wolf was fully awake now—protective, possessive, and utterly done with pretending to be small.

His scent exploded outward. It pressed against the four Alphas, heavy and unyielding, forcing them to lower their gazes.

Taehyung stared up at Jungkook—breath caught, heart pounding.

The leader finally wrenched his arm free, stumbling back a step. “This isn’t over, weakling.”

Jungkook’s growl deepened. “Try it again. See what happens.”

The four Alphas hesitated—then turned and walked away, shoulders hunched, tails metaphorically between their legs.

Silence settled over the courtyard.

Jungkook’s crimson eyes slowly faded back to dark brown. He exhaled shakily, turning to Taehyung, panic flashing across his face.

“Tae—I didn’t mean to—I just—”

Taehyung cut him off by surging forward, hands cupping Jungkook’s face, pulling him down into a fierce, desperate kiss.

Right there.

In the middle of the open courtyard.

Students walking by stopped. Whispers started. Someone gasped.

Taehyung didn’t care.

He kissed Jungkook like he was claiming him all over again. Jungkook froze for half a second, then melted into it, arms wrapping around Taehyung’s waist, holding him close despite the pain in his ribs.

When they finally parted, both breathing hard, Taehyung rested their foreheads together.

“I love you,” Taehyung whispered, voice trembling but certain. “I love you so much it hurts. And no one—no one—is ever touching you again. Not while I’m breathing.”

Jungkook’s eyes shimmered—tears threatening to spill. “You… you love me?”

Taehyung laughed. “Yeah, idiot. I love you.”

Jungkook’s breath hitched. He leaned in, pressing his forehead harder against Taehyung’s. “I love you too,” he whispered. “So much. I was just… scared I wasn’t enough.”

Taehyung kissed him again—slower this time, softer, full of promise. “You’re more than enough,” he murmured.

Jungkook smiled despite the bruises. They stood there in the middle of the courtyard—scents perfectly entwined, wolves calm and certain, surrounded by stares and whispers.

***

A week passed.

Jungkook’s bruises had faded to faint yellow shadows, his ribs no longer protested with every breath, and the doctor had finally cleared him to resume training—cautiously, gradually.

The professor had been understanding when they explained the situation. She’d reviewed the videos they sent and was pleased with their progress so far.

“Only resume when Jungkook is fully ready,” she’d said firmly. “Anything else would be dangerous. But keep sending footage. I’ll evaluate remotely until you’re both cleared for in-person checks.”

So they started again—slowly at first, then with growing confidence. The apartment dance room became their sanctuary.

But something felt… off.

Taehyung had been distracted since the previous evening. Not sick, not tired—just strange.

Restless.

His wolf kept nudging at the back of his mind like it was trying to tell him something important, something urgent, but the message wouldn’t quite form words.

His skin felt too sensitive, his pulse a little too quick, and every time Jungkook brushed past him or leaned in to adjust a grip during lifts, Taehyung’s scent flared involuntarily.

Jungkook, meanwhile, had become… clingy.
No—possessive.

It started that morning at university.

The second they stepped onto campus, Jungkook had pulled Taehyung into a shadowed corner near the entrance and scented him—properly, deeply, shamelessly.

Cheek dragged slowly over Taehyung’s gland, wrist pressed firmly against his throat, lips brushing the sensitive skin just below his ear.

It wasn’t subtle.

It was claiming.

Jungkook’s cedar-rain scent poured out strong and unfiltered, wrapping around Taehyung until he felt dizzy, legs trembling.

By the time Jungkook pulled back, Taehyung was flushed and unsteady, clinging to Jungkook’s shirt to stay upright.

“Jungkook…” he’d whispered, dazed.

Jungkook had only pressed one more kiss to his temple, eyes dark and intense.

All day, Jungkook hadn’t let Taehyung out of arm’s reach. In the cafeteria at lunch he sat pressed to Taehyung’s side, one arm draped possessively around his shoulders, glaring at any Alpha who even glanced their way.

Omegas kept trying to approach—smiling, batting lashes, offering casual hellos—but Jungkook’s low, warning growl sent them scattering.

He didn’t even look at them. His entire focus stayed on Taehyung. Feeding him bites of food, brushing hair from his forehead, scenting his wrist every time someone walked too close.

Taehyung felt like he was floating in a haze of cedar and possessiveness—and he loved it.

But the feeling wouldn’t leave him alone.

After his solo lecture that afternoon, Taehyung slipped into an empty stairwell and called Namjoon.

“Hey, man. How are you? And how’s things with your Alpha?”

Taehyung leaned against the wall, voice quiet.

“Actually… I’ve got a problem. My body… I don’t know. Since last night I’ve felt… off. Not sick, just… weird. Like my wolf is trying to tell me something and I can’t figure out what. I’ve never felt this before…”

Namjoon’s tone sharpened with interest. “How’s Jungkook been?”

“Clingy as hell since yesterday. Possessive, too. But… it’s nice. Really nice. Anyway—back to me. What’s happening?”

Namjoon laughed—low, knowing. “Your problem is that your Alpha is about to go into rut. Tonight’s probably going to be rough for him. Your wolf is trying to warn you—telling you your Alpha’s going to need you.”

Taehyung’s breath caught.

“Rut?” he whispered. “Jungkook’s rut is starting?”

“Mhm. Good luck, lucky bastard.”

Taehyung’s mind spun. “What? No… I…”

“Heats are eased by intimacy, Tae. Ruts are the same. Your Alpha’s going to need you—badly.”

Taehyung stared at the wall, heart racing.

Jungkook… in rut.

The thought sent a shiver down his spine—half anticipation, half tenderness.

He could already imagine it, Jungkook’s eyes darkening to crimson, his scent thickening until it drowned out everything else, his hands gripping Taehyung like he was the only thing keeping him grounded.

And Taehyung wanted it.

Wanted to meet every hungry edge with the same hunger.

He swallowed.

“Thanks, Joonie.”

“Anytime. Call if you need anything. And… take care of him, okay?”

Taehyung smiled despite himself.

“Always.”

He hung up, took a deep breath, and headed toward the arts building.

Jungkook would be finishing his last class soon.

And tonight… tonight was going to change everything. Taehyung’s wolf purred low in his chest.

They were both about to find out just how deep this bond went.

Chapter Text

Taehyung paced the university hall, heart pounding with a mix of stress and eager anticipation.

Jungkook probably didn’t even realize his rut was coming—didn’t know the way his scent had been shifting.

When Jungkook didn’t show, Taehyung pulled out his phone.

- Jungkookie? Where are you?

- Home. Went back early, not feeling well. I think I’m sick. Don’t come over, please. I’ll be fine.

Taehyung’s breath caught. Sick? No. This was it.

He didn’t reply. He shoved his phone in his pocket, slung his bag over his shoulder, and headed straight for Jungkook’s apartment, skipping the rest of his classes.

The walk felt endless. When he arrived, he knocked firmly.

“Jungkook? It’s me. Open up.”

A long pause. Then, muffled through the wood.
“Go home, Taehyung. I can’t… not now. I… I refuse to see you like this.”

Taehyung leaned his forehead against the door.
“Jungkook… I know about your rut. Open up. Let me help you.”

Another pause, longer this time.

“It’s never been this strong. I’m not opening. I’ll call you when it’s over.”

Taehyung’s patience snapped. He raised his voice just enough. “Jungkook, open this door. Now.”

The lock clicked.

The door cracked open—just an inch.

Taehyung didn’t wait. He pushed inside, slamming the door shut behind him, and shoved Jungkook gently but firmly against the wall.

His hands fisted in Jungkook’s shirt, pulling him down into a fierce, desperate kiss—lips crashing, tongues tangling immediately, teeth nipping at Jungkook’s bottom lip hard enough to draw a gasp.

Jungkook froze for a heartbeat—then his hands came up, gripping Taehyung’s waist—but he pushed back, breaking the kiss with a ragged breath.

“Taehyung… stop. I…”

“Don’t hold back. Not tonight.”

Jungkook’s eyes were already darkening, pupils blown wide, but hesitation warred in them.

“But… I—I don’t have anything. No lube or condoms and—”

“No lube needed, trust me.” Taehyung’s voice dropped, low and reassuring. “And I’m not in heat. No need for condoms, and I'm clean.”

Jungkook hesitated, breaths coming in short bursts, his scent thickening further, wrapping around Taehyung like a vice.

“I know it’s your first time. I’ll guide you at first and… once you’re in, your wolf will take over. Jungkook… I want this too.”

Jungkook’s resolve cracked. His eyes flashed crimson.

“Tae… I might be rough… I—”

“I trust you. I love you, Jungkookie.”

The words hung between them.

Jungkook’s breath hitched. Then he surged forward—hands gripping Taehyung’s hips, spinning them so Taehyung was the one pinned against the wall. His mouth crashed back onto Taehyung’s—violent, savage, all restraint shattered.

Lips bruised against lips, tongues battling for dominance, teeth clashing in desperate hunger. Jungkook’s hands roamed—sliding up Taehyung’s shirt, nails raking lightly over his back, down to grip his thighs and lift him effortlessly off the ground.

Taehyung wrapped his legs around Jungkook’s waist, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling hard enough to draw a growl from deep in Jungkook’s throat.

Jungkook’s mouth moved—biting at Taehyung’s lower lip, sucking hard enough to mark, then trailing down his jaw to his neck. Teeth grazed the scent gland there—hard, teasing, not quite breaking skin but sending sparks of pleasure-pain shooting through Taehyung’s body.

Taehyung gasped, head falling back against the wall. “Jungkook—bed. Now.”

Jungkook didn’t need to be told twice.

He carried Taehyung effortlessly down the hallway—lips never leaving his neck, biting and licking in a frenzy that made Taehyung’s head spin.

They stumbled into the bedroom, Jungkook kicking the door shut behind them. He lowered Taehyung onto the bed then followed, body covering Taehyung’s completely.

Clothes came off in a blur of hands.

Jungkook tugged Taehyung’s shirt over his head, mouth immediately latching onto his collarbone—sucking a dark mark there, then another on his chest. Taehyung arched into the touch, fingers clawing at Jungkook’s back, nails leaving red trails.

“More,” he breathed. “Don’t stop.”

Jungkook’s hands were everywhere—gripping Taehyung’s hips. He kissed lower—teeth grazing Taehyung’s nipple, tongue swirling until Taehyung whimpered, body bucking up.

“P-prepare me…” Taehyung gasped, voice breaking on the edge of desperation. “Please, Jungkook… I can’t wait anymore.”

Jungkook pulled back just enough to meet his eyes—dark, pupils blown, crimson flickering at the edges.

He slid down Taehyung’s body, fingers hooking into the waistband of Taehyung’s pants and underwear in one smooth motion, tugging them off together.

Taehyung’s cock sprang free, already hard and leaking against his stomach. Jungkook paused—only for a second—eyes raking over him with raw hunger.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed, almost to himself.

Then he leaned in.

One hand wrapped around Taehyung’s length—slow, firm strokes—while the other slid between his thighs, fingers circling the slick entrance already dripping with natural slick. Taehyung moaned, legs falling open wider, hips rolling up into both touches.

“Damn, you’re already so wet…” Jungkook murmured against his inner thigh, voice rough with want.

“You have no idea…” Taehyung panted, fingers twisting in the sheets.

Jungkook pressed one finger inside, watching Taehyung’s face for any sign of discomfort. There was none. Taehyung arched, pushing back onto the digit, chasing more.

“More,” he demanded breathlessly. “Faster, Kook—please.”

Jungkook added a second finger, scissoring gently, then a third when Taehyung’s moans turned pleading.

He curled them deliberately, searching—then found it. The spot that made Taehyung’s whole body jolt, back bowing off the bed, a sharp cry tearing from his throat.

Jungkook froze, panic flashing in his eyes.
“Did I hurt you—?”

Taehyung growled—low, feral, desperate.
“Don’t. Stop.”

Jungkook exhaled shakily—and obeyed.

He thrust his fingers faster, curling against that spot with every stroke. Taehyung was trembling now—legs shaking, hips jerking, moans turning into broken little sobs of pleasure.

It didn’t take long.

With a choked cry, Taehyung came—hard—spilling over Jungkook’s fist, body clenching around his fingers, waves of release crashing through him until he was shaking, oversensitive, gasping.

Jungkook slowed but didn’t stop completely—gentle strokes now, easing him through the aftershocks, kissing soft apologies and praises against his thigh.

Taehyung’s eyes fluttered open, he pushed himself up on shaky arms, hands immediately reaching for Jungkook’s waistband.

“Enough foreplay,” he rasped, voice wrecked. “I want you. Now.”

Jungkook’s breath hitched.
“Tae—”

Taehyung tugged the sweatpants and boxers down in one impatient motion. Jungkook’s cock sprang free—heavy, hard, already leaking at the tip.

Taehyung wrapped his hand around it, watching Jungkook’s head fall back, throat working on a groan.

“Lie down,” Taehyung ordered softly.

Jungkook obeyed—falling back onto the pillows, eyes wide and dark with want and nerves.

Taehyung straddled him, knees bracketing Jungkook’s hips, hands braced on his chest.

He leaned down, kissed him deep, slow. He lined Jungkook up, his own slick entrance already dripping, and sank down in one slow, steady motion.

They both gasped.

Jungkook’s hands flew to Taehyung’s hips—gripping hard enough to bruise, but not moving.

Taehyung stilled for a moment, adjusting to the stretch, then began to move. Slow rolls of his hips at first, testing, teasing. Jungkook’s head fell back against the pillow, a low, broken moan tearing from his throat.

“Tae… fuck…”

Taehyung leaned down, lips brushing Jungkook’s ear. “Let go, Jungkookie. I want all of you.”

That was all it took.

Jungkook’s control shattered.

He flipped them in one fluid motion, Taehyung on his back now, legs hooked over Jungkook’s shoulders, Jungkook braced above him.

He thrust deep, each snap of his hips driving a cry from Taehyung’s throat. Jungkook’s pace turned feral—rut fully in command now—but every thrust was angled perfectly, hitting that spot inside Taehyung over and over until stars burst behind his eyelids.

Taehyung was sobbing now—pleasure so sharp it bordered on pain—nails raking down Jungkook’s back, leaving red trails.

“Harder—Jungkook—please—”

Jungkook obeyed—thrusting deeper, faster. His mouth found Taehyung’s neck again—teeth grazing the gland, then sinking in—claiming, marking.

The bite sent Taehyung over the edge.

He came with a broken cry—body clenching around Jungkook, release spilling between them, vision whiting out.

Jungkook followed seconds later—growling Taehyung’s name against his throat as he thrust deep one last time, knot swelling, locking them together.

They collapsed. Jungkook’s arms wrapping protectively around Taehyung, face buried in his neck, licking gently at the fresh mark.

Taehyung’s fingers carded through Jungkook’s damp hair, voice wrecked but soft. “You're mine Jungkookie.”

Jungkook nuzzled closer, knot pulsing inside him.

They stayed like that—locked together, breathing each other in—until the knot eased, until exhaustion pulled them under.

When Taehyung woke again hours later, still wrapped in Jungkook’s arms, the mark on his neck throbbed gently—permanent.

He smiled into Jungkook’s chest.

Finally.

***

But Taehyung knew it wouldn’t end so easily.

Jungkook’s rut had only just begun.

Their first time had been conscious—Jungkook still there, hesitant and careful, eyes locked on Taehyung’s, every thrust measured, every touch asking permission.

But when they woke the next morning… Jungkook wasn’t Jungkook anymore. His wolf had taken over completely.

This was the third time since they’d opened their eyes.

Taehyung was exhausted, muscles trembling, skin oversensitive, lungs burning but so, so satisfied.

Jungkook’s wolf was devastatingly skilled.

Every movement precise, instinctive, like he knew exactly how to unravel Taehyung until nothing remained but pleasure and surrender.

This time they were against the bedroom wall.

Taehyung’s cheek pressed to the cool paint, palms flat against it for support, legs spread wide and shaking. Jungkook was behind him—chest flush to his back, one arm banded around Taehyung’s waist to hold him up, the other braced beside his head on the wall.

He moved inside him with relentless rhythm, deep, hard snaps of his hips that punched the air from Taehyung’s lungs every time.

“K-Kook… I… I’m gonna—”

“My Omega…” Jungkook growled low against his ear, voice rough, almost feral.

He sped up—hips slamming forward, hand sliding down to wrap around Taehyung’s aching cock, stroking in time with every thrust.

Taehyung shattered again.

A broken sob tore from his throat as he came—body convulsing, walls clenching around Jungkook, tears of overwhelming pleasure streaming down his cheeks.

He was soaked everywhere. Slick dripping down his thighs, sweat slicking their skin, Jungkook’s scent so thick it drowned out everything else.

He was utterly at his mercy—legs giving out completely.

Jungkook caught him without missing a beat—strong arms lifting him effortlessly, turning them both so he could sit on the edge of the bed with Taehyung straddling his lap, still impaled, still moving.

Jungkook’s hands gripped Taehyung’s hips and guided him—lifting and dropping him in a punishing rhythm, chasing his own release while dragging Taehyung through the aftershocks.

Taehyung was oversensitive—every drag of Jungkook inside him sending sparks up his spine, every brush of fingers against his spent cock making him whimper. He could barely feel his own body anymore—just heat, pressure, pleasure so sharp it bordered on pain.

The previous orgasm hadn’t even fully faded when another one crashed over him.

He cried out—voice hoarse, body seizing again, release spilling weakly between them as his walls fluttered around Jungkook. Tears streamed freely now, pleasure so intense it felt like he might break apart.

Jungkook groaned against his neck—teeth grazing the fresh mark he’d left the night before—then thrust up hard once, twice, knot swelling again, locking them together as he came with a deep, possessive growl.

Heat flooded Taehyung, filling him until he felt claimed from the inside out.

They collapsed sideways onto the bed—still knotted, still trembling—Jungkook’s arms wrapping around Taehyung like he was something precious and breakable. His nose pressed to the back of Taehyung’s neck, licking gently at the bite mark, soothing the sting.

Taehyung’s breaths came in ragged little gasps. He felt wrecked—beautifully, perfectly wrecked.

Jungkook nuzzled closer, voice soft and rough at once. “You okay…?”

Taehyung let out a shaky, blissful laugh. “More than okay… I’m yours.”

Jungkook pressed a tender kiss behind his ear.
“Mine,” he murmured, arms tightening. “All mine.”

Taehyung smiled weakly, eyes already drifting closed again.

He was exhausted.
He was overstimulated.
He was loved.

And he had never felt more complete.

The rut wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

But Taehyung didn’t mind.

***

Nevertheless, he woke up a few hours later.

Clean, refreshed, dressed in soft pajamas, and strangely at peace. The bed sheets had been changed and he was neatly tucked in, blankets pulled up to his chest with care.

Jungkook had taken care of him? While in rut?

Taehyung tried to sit up, but his body refused.

Every muscle felt like liquid lead, overworked and oversensitive from the endless waves of pleasure.

His legs trembled just thinking about moving. He managed a weak sound, half-laugh, half-whimper.

“Jungkook?”

The door opened almost immediately. Jungkook stepped in—hair still damp from a shower, wearing loose pajamas, eyes soft and worried.

He looked… calmer.

The feral edge had receded for now, though his scent still carried that heavy, rut-thick undertone.

“You’re awake, my little berry?” he asked gently, a small, fond smile curving his lips.

Taehyung blinked slowly.

My little berry?

The nickname hit him like a warm wave—sweet, utterly unexpected. His cheeks flushed despite the exhaustion.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung managed, voice hoarse and scratchy.

Jungkook crossed the room in three steps and sat carefully on the edge of the bed. “Mhm. I feel better. It’s not over yet, but… my wolf is calm for now.” He reached out, brushing damp hair from Taehyung’s forehead with the lightest touch. “And you? I… I think I went too far…”

Taehyung shook his head weakly and reached for Jungkook’s hand, tugging until Jungkook leaned closer. “You… marked me.” Taehyung’s voice cracked with emotion. “I’m… I’m so happy, Jungkookie. And don’t worry. I wanted it just as much as you did. All those rounds… I wanted every single one.”

Jungkook’s eyes shimmered—relief, love, a little guilt still lingering. He leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Taehyung’s forehead.

“I made food if you’re hungry,” he murmured against his skin. “Take your time. Your body must hurt…”

“Stay like this for a bit,” Taehyung whispered, tugging again until Jungkook carefully slid under the covers beside him.

Jungkook wrapped his arms around Taehyung from behind and buried his nose in the fresh mark on Taehyung’s neck.

He inhaled deeply, a low, contented rumble vibrating through his chest.

Taehyung sighed, melting back against him. “You’re still in rut… but you took care of me anyway.”

Jungkook pressed another kiss behind his ear.
“Always. Even when my wolf is loud… you come first.”

Taehyung smiled, eyes drifting closed again. “My little berry, huh?”

Jungkook huffed a soft laugh against his skin.
“You smell like strawberries. And you’re mine now. So… yeah. My little berry.”

Taehyung laughed weakly.
“I like it.”

Jungkook nuzzled closer. “Good then.”

They stayed like that until Taehyung drifted back to sleep, safe in the arms of the Alpha who had finally, fully claimed him.

Chapter Text

Two days later, Jungkook’s rut had finally run its course.

The last forty-eight hours had been calmer, more tender. Jungkook had turned into an absolute clingy mess. His arms wrapped around Taehyung at all times, nose buried in his neck, soft whines whenever Taehyung even thought about moving too far away. They’d spent most of it curled on the couch, binge-watching a series neither of them really followed, trading lazy kisses, scenting each other lazily. It had been peaceful.

But one thing was certain now, Taehyung bore Jungkook’s mark.

A clean, permanent bite right over his scent gland, still throbbing faintly with every heartbeat. Every time he caught his reflection in the mirror, he smiled like an idiot.

He was officially claimed.

And he was already planning to return the favor during his next heat. He wanted Jungkook to wear his mark too. He needed it.

Today, though, was performance day.

They were due to show their lifts in person to the professor. Jungkook had been quietly stressed all morning—fidgeting with his hoodie strings, scent spiking with nerves every time they passed another student in the hallway.

Taehyung, on the other hand, felt calm. Confident. Their last few private rehearsals had been flawless.

They walked into the studio hand in hand.

The professor looked up from her notes and smiled warmly. “Hello, you two. I hope you’ve been working hard. Though after those videos… I don’t really doubt it.”

Taehyung squeezed Jungkook’s hand and grinned.
“It’ll be fine.”

They warmed up side by side—stretching, rolling shoulders, mirroring each other’s movements in the mirror.

Taehyung could feel the subtle shift now that the bond was complete.

Jungkook’s scent no longer overwhelmed him. It complemented him. They smelled like one single thing—strawberry rain—and it made every lift feel effortless.

They started with the easier holds first. Then the harder ones.

The professor watched in silence at first, then started clapping—slowly at first, then louder, delighted.

“Perfect,” she said, genuinely impressed. “You two are in perfect symbiosis. The trust is visible. The strength is there. Keep going like this.”

She paused, eyes twinkling mischievously. “And the next step will be a full choreography. You have two months, lovebirds.”

Jungkook turned bright red, ears practically glowing. Taehyung burst out laughing, bumping his shoulder against Jungkook’s.

“No problem,” he said cheerfully. “We’ve got this.”

The professor waved them off with a grin. “I expect great things. Now go celebrate. You’ve earned it.”

They left the studio hand in hand, Jungkook still flushed, Taehyung beaming.

Outside, in the hallway, Taehyung tugged Jungkook into a quick, hidden corner and kissed him.

“You were amazing,” he whispered against Jungkook’s lips.

Jungkook ducked his head, smiling shyly. “we were amazing.”

Taehyung’s thumb brushed over the faint mark on his own neck. “Yeah,” he murmured. “We were.”

***

The evening arrived quickly, and Jungkook—who had been extremely clingy since his rut—followed Taehyung all the way home without letting go of his hand once.

“We should start thinking about the choreography,” Taehyung said as they stepped into the apartment, kicking off his shoes. “Or at least a theme. Two months goes by fast.”

“Mmh, but we can also just sit down and eat something first,” Jungkook replied, already heading straight for Taehyung’s kitchen like he owned the place. “I’m starving.”

Taehyung watched him move—confident, relaxed—and felt a warm flutter in his chest. He loved this new Jungkook. Surer of himself, less hesitant, more openly affectionate. It was beautiful to witness.

But food could wait. Taehyung wanted to brainstorm.

Jungkook seemed to notice. He glanced over his shoulder from the fridge, amused. “I cook. You think. Deal?”

Taehyung smiled, soft and fond. “Deal.”

About thirty minutes later, Jungkook set two steaming plates on the table, and Taehyung finally shared his ideas.

Their biggest strengths were the lifts and their undeniable chemistry.

They both agreed that the choreography should be about love.

Something raw, something that could be felt in a single shared glance. No words needed. Just movement.

Jungkook was visibly tired after the day, but Taehyung still wanted to try a few steps.

Without Jungkook’s dedicated dance room, though, it wasn’t easy. They pushed the coffee table aside and worked in the corner of the living room.

They filmed everything, of course.

Simple footwork first. Then a few easy lifts. But after fifteen minutes, Jungkook’s focus started slipping. His movements grew looser, less precise.

He kept pausing to nuzzle Taehyung’s neck, breathing him in like he couldn’t help himself.

“Kook, please concentrate a little,” Taehyung said, half-laughing, half-exasperated.

Jungkook buried his nose deeper into the crook of Taehyung’s neck and inhaled slowly..“My little berry… you smell so good since we got home… It’s hard to focus.”

Taehyung sighed, smiling despite himself. “Don’t exaggerate…”

“I swear,” Jungkook mumbled, voice already hazy, “it’s making my head spin.”

Taehyung gently pushed him back and pressed a hand to his own forehead.

Shit.

“My heat,” he said quietly. “My real heat this time… it’s coming, Kook.”

Jungkook frowned, concern cutting through the fog. “Is it… my fault?”

Taehyung stepped closer and cupped Jungkook’s cheek, thumb brushing softly over his skin.

“No. It’s just… my cycle. I forgot about it with your rut and the performance this morning… Sorry.”

“Oh…” Jungkook looked hesitant, almost unsure. “And… do you want me to stay? Or… should I go?”

Taehyung’s heart squeezed. “You stay. Obviously you stay. But… unlike most Omegas… I don’t usually have sex during my heats. Just so you know.”

Jungkook blinked.

“No problem. How do I help? I wanna help you.”

Taehyung smiled, soft and certain. “I just need you close. I need my Alpha with me.”

Jungkook’s expression melted. He pulled Taehyung into his arms, careful but firm, and buried his face in Taehyung’s hair.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I’ll take care of you. However you need.”

Taehyung wrapped his arms around Jungkook’s waist and held on tight.

***

As the hours ticked by, Taehyung’s condition worsened steadily.

What had started as a vague, nagging discomfort quickly turned into something sharper, more insistent.

By evening, the pain had settled deep in his abdomen—cramping, burning, unrelenting. His real heat had arrived, right on schedule, and unlike the triggered episode before, this one was merciless.

They cut the night short.

Taehyung barely managed to eat a few bites before retreating to bed, curling up under the blankets. Jungkook followed without hesitation, settling behind him and pulling him close, chest to back, arms wrapped securely around Taehyung’s waist, chin tucked over his shoulder.

They tried watching a movie on the laptop balanced on Taehyung’s lap, but Taehyung couldn’t focus. His eyes kept fluttering shut, breaths shallow and uneven, body trembling faintly with every new wave of cramps.

“Kook…” Taehyung whispered after a while, voice small and tired. “Turn it off. I want to sleep. I can’t anymore…”

Jungkook immediately paused the film and closed the laptop, setting it carefully on the floor.

“You don’t want to… make a nest?” he asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer.

Taehyung managed a weak smile, shaking his head. “No… my stomach hurts too much. I just want you close.”

Jungkook nodded, expression softening with understanding. He lay back down and pulled Taehyung against him more tightly, one hand splaying over Taehyung’s lower belly like he could soothe the cramps with touch alone. His other arm wrapped protectively around Taehyung’s shoulders.

He released calming pheromones in slow, steady waves. Taehyung sighed, melting into the scent, letting it dull the edges of the pain just enough to breathe easier.

Within minutes, exhaustion won. Taehyung’s breathing evened out, body going lax in Jungkook’s hold.

_____________________________

Jungkook woke in the middle of the night to soft, pained whimpers.

His eyes snapped open instantly, heart lurching. Taehyung was curled on his side, trembling faintly, face flushed and twisted in discomfort.

Jungkook sat up quickly, the blankets pooling around his waist, and gently turned Taehyung toward him.

“Tae…?” His voice cracked with worry. “Are you okay?”

Taehyung’s eyes were glassy and red-rimmed, fever-bright. He shook his head weakly, a small, miserable sound escaping his throat.

Jungkook’s stomach dropped.

This wasn’t like the triggered heat before. This was different. Taehyung’s skin was scorching under his palm, sweat dampening his hair at the temples.

“You’re burning up,” Jungkook whispered, panic rising fast. “Do you—do you want me to call a doctor?”

Taehyung grimaced, shaking his head again.
“N-no… It’ll… it’ll pass.”

Jungkook frowned, brushing damp strands of hair from Taehyung’s forehead. “You’re completely burning, Tae… Baby, this isn’t getting better.”

Taehyung’s lips curved into the tiniest, shaky smile at the nickname. His first time hearing Jungkook say it like that.

“You… could run me a cold bath?” Taehyung asked, voice small and strained. “It’ll help… with the temperature…”

Jungkook nodded immediately. “Yeah. I’ve got you.”

He pressed a gentle kiss to Taehyung’s fever-hot forehead, then slipped out of bed and hurried to the bathroom.

He ran the water cold, but not freezing. When he returned, he scooped Taehyung up carefully, bridal style and carried him to the tub.

Taehyung leaned his head against Jungkook’s shoulder, breathing shallowly.

Jungkook helped him undress, peeling away sweat-damp clothes and easing him into the water.

Taehyung hissed softly at the first contact, then sighed as the coolness began to seep into his overheated skin.

Jungkook knelt on the tile beside the tub.

“Kook… go back to bed,” Taehyung mumbled, eyes already drooping. “Don’t stay on the floor…”

“No.” Jungkook shook his head, voice quiet but firm. “I’m staying with you.”

He reached for Taehyung’s hand, threading their fingers together. Taehyung squeezed weakly, clinging.

“I’m staying until you feel better,” Jungkook promised. “Then we’ll go back to bed.”

Taehyung managed another small, tired smile.
“Okay…” His eyes fluttered shut. Within minutes, his breathing evened out, calmer. The cool water helped.

Jungkook didn’t move.

He stayed right there—kneeling on the hard tile, holding Taehyung’s hand, watching over him like a sentinel.

***

The next day, Taehyung was calmer, still in pain but no longer crying out.

The worst waves had passed.

Jungkook had already taken care of everything.

He’d messaged their professors early that morning, saying neither of them would be in class today. Taehyung needed rest, and Jungkook wasn’t leaving his side.

And being here, in Taehyung's apartment, with him all day, felt dangerously close to living together.

Jungkook caught himself imagining it more than once... A bigger place, maybe with two bedrooms (one for them, one for… later), a proper dance corner...

The thought made his chest ache in the best way.

It wasn’t the time to ask, but Jungkook already knew he wanted this.

He was in the kitchen now, stirring a light soup, nothing heavy, easy on Taehyung’s stomach.

Taehyung watched him from the couch, bundled in blankets, chin resting on his knees.

“Kook…” Taehyung’s voice was quiet, thoughtful. “Do you… want kids someday?”

Jungkook froze mid-stir, spoon hovering. He turned slowly, eyes wide. “Uh…?” A nervous laugh escaped him. “Why? Do you… have something to tell me?”

Taehyung laughed weakly, shaking his head. “No, idiot. But… you know my heats are… awful to me. Really awful. And conceiving outside of them is hard, even impossible. If we ever want a child… I’d probably need treatment, to get through it without hurting.”

Jungkook set the spoon down carefully. He’d completely forgotten that detail. Omegas conceived easily during heat, but Taehyung’s real heats weren’t like most.

They were painful.

And the idea of Taehyung going through medical procedures just for them to have a family… sound wrong.

“Oh…” Jungkook said softly.

He turned back to the stove, stirring again to give himself a second to think. “I’d like kids, yeah. Someday. But… if it’s too hard on you, I’d rather not. We can adopt. I don’t want you suffering for it.”

Taehyung’s eyes softened. He watched Jungkook’s back for a long moment. “I want a child with you,” he said quietly. “From you. I’d take the treatment when we’re ready. But… thank you. For saying that.”

“I mean it,” Jungkook whispered. “You come first. Always.”