#redamancy

"Don't tell me that boyfriend of yours stood you up," Frank teases somewhat good-naturedly as you finish talking about Tanner's art class.

You roll your eyes to keep them from watering. You know Dean. You know he would be here unless it wasn't really important. "Well, if my man is not here that means he's out there, you know, saving people even before we do."

"As if you don't already do it to me, Frank," she scolds with a light tap on his lapel. She turns her attention to you. "Is your boyfriend a first responder?"

"Yeah," you smile, a bit prouder and taller. Abby turns sunnier by the minute. "He's a police sergeant. He was just about wrapping up a case."

"Yes, Mr. 'I'll take the cuffs off when I damn well please'," Frank scoffs, wrapping an arm that feels tighter around his wife. "I can see how he'll wrap up a case."

"As if that guy didn't assault you and me the first chance he got," you snap back, a bit frantic. Just because Mr. Bluey is so perfect didn't mean that he could get to pile onto him.

You stiffen when Abby shifts the conversation to the bill on protecting healthcare workers. A few mindless nods and half heard 'uh-huh's later, your eyes snag on something. Someone.

Frank hates how you light up when Dean Winchester shows up. Strong-jawed with green eyes and a stronger arm, all yet surprisingly tender when he kisses your forehead. He's a fucking cop. He's going to be volatile and reckless.

"Dean, you've met Langdon." You lean into his chest, just like Abby as you introduce them. "This is Abby, his wife. Abby, meet Dean."

"Nice to meet you guys." As Frank rolls his eyes, Dean adds, "You too, doctor."

He manages a polite smile as you two make an excuse to move to the bar.

Fucking hell.

Your navy dress is backless. His hand probably feels warm against the skin. Langdon shakes his head and tries to stop his train of thought with one last glance.

And fucking hates how the other man orders for you.

One year ago: PTMC ED

Frank nearly had a heart attack when a little one runs from Dean's side up to him asking for her mommy. Your hair, his eyes. He's already projecting every feature of you in her. She points to her father, "Dada said you know her."

It takes him a moment to process the child and her words, "Yeah, definitely." He crouches to her level, thoughts forming a hurricane in his mind. "Or I thought so. Who is your mom?"

"That's her silly!" She points you out, still engrossed deeply in talking to a patient, "I think there's something wrong with your eyes."

Dean scoffs at her words following Langdon's gaze. "Millie, what did I say about being rude to people?"

"No, it's fine," Frank sighs making his eyes comically wider, "my eyes are weird."

Millie giggles loudly, a lively sound in the reckless E.D.

That's all it takes for you to perk up to the sound and move towards them. The girl runs to your arms and you pick her up, offering gentle kisses to her nose and cheeks. Frank is too horrified by your betrayal that he doesn't notice your surprised face when she calls you mom or when Dean mutters something about committing to the bit.

"I might have told them that I was your husband," he smiles sheepishly. "And that Millie's our daughter."

You make an exasperated noise and Millie pulls your nose exaggerating it. "Great, now everyone's going to think I've been hiding a secret family."

"On the bright side, either way, now you don't have to worry about patients or colleagues flirting with you." He lights up in a grin.

"Yeah— uhm, sure." you sputter out. Dean's face falls but he covers it. "We wanted to ask you if you'd make it for trick-or-treating tonight. And somebody couldn't wait."

"Dada told mama he wouldn't go without you!"

Light pink dusts the man's face but you tense up. "Isn't that a family tradition?"

"That only matters if you're not family."

You try to look positive. But, you already agreed.

"I'm sorry, D, I said I'd work the double today. Besides it's not fair when Langdon can't go with his kids and I do."

His eyes flick behind you. You think he knows it's a loosing battle. "Right."

"I'm so sorry, Dean."

He shakes his head. "Don't worry, I should've asked you before I made plans."

"Yeah," you agree smiling sadly, "I'm terrible at spontaneous decisions."

"Okay, then. Let's let mommy work..." Dean picks Millie up from your hands, and the little kid waves at you as you call out, "You want Lisa to kill me, don't you?"

He laughs as he walks away.

You sit down at the computer next to Frank's to start filling out your chart. Raia Burns. 26. H/O fever, vomit— "Didn't know you were actually married and pretending to be wearing a fake ring."

You grin at him shakingly, already unnerved to detect the hostility in his tone. "Me neither."

six months ago: PTMC Rooftop

"That'll kill you, you know."

You're really tired of him following you up to the roof. It's the one place you can have some peace and quiet and blow smoke without it feeling like it would kill you.

"Way to ruin the mood, Bluey."

"It's already ruined. You're standing here." He sets his bag on the floor when you scoff. "I would've sent your BFF up if she wasn't taking someone's history."

"If you call her Slo-Mo again, I'm punching you in the face."

"Relax, killer." His hands are beside you on the railing. "I haven't called her that since you laid into me."

"Good for you."

"I didn't realise it was affecting her that much." He sounds repentant.

"It was." You puff the smoke into the air halfway before turning your head away from him. He has kids. He doesn't need secondhand lung cancer from your bad habits. "And you shouldn't be saying this to me."

"Oh, trust me. I know. I'll talk to her." He looks up, a weight in his eyes. "Now, you wanna talk about you?"

"No." The answer is sharp, jagged. But the truth is simpler. You don't think you'd survive if you told anyone, especially him. "It was a long day."

"It was a Kung Fu Panda day for you."

You laugh through the smoke. "Is that supposed to be a joke?"

"Yes." He turns his palms out as he leans on the railing. "Maybe not the other thing."

"What other thing?"

He turns his body to fully face you, "The 'good he broke my arm cause he can't file a case now' thing."

You stub the cigarette on the rail. "Well, he can't sue me for assault now."

"You've got a sprain on your elbow."

"And he's got a message." You drop the cigarette to the floor and crush it with your foot and send him a glare.

His hand raises midway to your face before it sets into a point, "And you won't grow out your hair."

You huff, stiffening. "The long pullable hair seemed to be impractical."

"And scary."

"I don't wanna talk about this." You cross your arms, pulling your jacket closer. "It was a long day."

"Yeah, it was." He raised his eyebrows half sincere, half kidding. "You want a hug?"

You laugh out pathetically, the kind with a gallon of water in it. "You don't wanna go home smelling like ashes."

It's final. He knows you're denying it without trying to be rude. Yet, it somehow is. Of course, it is. It's you. "If you ever wanna talk—"

You pause for a moment and he thinks you might actually tell him. But you're far off thinking about how this shouldn't be him. It shouldn't feel like this with him.

"I don't think I can."

"Okay." He shifts his weight to be fully on the railing. "Then we're going to watch the sunset and then we're going home."

You look at him in the golden light, hair slightly askew as always. We're going home.

And you won't realise it, but for the first time in your life, you'll admit it.

Three months ago: PTMC Physiotherapy Centre

"You're having the shittiest birthday, aren't you?" You pull up beside him in front of the Medical Centre's physiotherapy building. He's crouched on the bench with his hands gripping his knees. "Frank?"

You know that he hears by the way he swallows. Damn it, you're going to have to park up ahead. His face is still down. You do the only thing you can think of— distract.

"Hey, I got you something."

He scoffs breathlessly before the words come out in painful whispers. "Unless it's two milligrams of Dilaudid, I don't think it'll help."

You place the box beside you on the metal. It's an unruly wooden box the shopkeeper found when you had said it was a gift. He drags it to himself, slowly opening it.

There's a sharp inhale and a long pause as he holds one of the figurines in his hands. "Where did you even find this?"

"Pawnshop," you shrug, "Apparently, it's a good place for nerds too."

"Thank you." It's simple and earnest. You nod, watching him run his fingers over the statue. It takes a while for his facade to let up again. But his elbows are still on his thighs. "Guess I was your wake up call."

"Yeah, thanks for that," you sigh, shifting, as he looks apologetic. "But honestly, I couldn't make out much beside 'Could you get me?'"

"Thank god, even those words got out." His chuckle is dry. "I was pretty close to crying."

You're not sure what to say, so you settle on, "That bad, huh?"

"I can't even pick up my kids anymore." Langdon takes in a sharp breath. "I can tell Tanner that he's too big but when Penny asks for piggyback rides and I say no, she looks like I betrayed her."

"The physiotherapy?"

He buried his face in his hands. "It's management, not cure."

"Abby?"

"She's with the kids." His face is serene for a moment. "Planning a 'surprise' birthday party."

"You didn't tell her you had—"

"No." It's a rough, dull answer and he realizes it the moment he says it. "She has had enough. This is already too much."

"People can survive this, you know?" You realise how pathetic it sounds. "I'm sorry, Frank. I don't know what to say."

"It's okay." He opens his hand, hesitant. "You don't have to say anything."

You don't know what possesses you to take it. Actually, no— it scares you more that you do.

One month ago: Apartment 2005, South builders

There's something deeply wrong with mahogany.

The coffee table creeps you out right now. More than the cold coffee, more than the person sitting at the other end of it.

You're tying your laces on the couch as he stands by the doorway. The curtains flutter slightly letting bits of the daylight in. You stifle a yawn with the back of your hand. It was a long night. Dean sighs once, his breath uneven. You're leaving. At least, he thinks so. He thought that he knew you too. So, he thinks that you're running away.

Afterall, what more could you do after confessing to your boyfriend that you might love another man?

But it's his fault too.

Dean uncrosses and crosses his arms again. A silent plea, a request for attention, for presence. But you can't afford it any more. "I'll stay with Sami till you sort things out. We need the time."

There's a stiff nod before his calm facade breaks, as he settles on the edge of the recliner. "Yeah, right."

You don't dignify it with a response. That might have added fuel to the already lit forest fire. His hand is on your knee as you try to get up from the couch. "We need to talk about this."

You shrug your shoulders but you're already shaking so much that it's barely noticeable. "Do we?"

"No, sweetheart," the nickname stills you for a few more moments letting him run his hands up and down your thigh. He takes it off as you go rigid under his touch, "I said I had to think about it."

Your eyes find the door, body shifting away from him. "If you need to think about it, you already lost me, D."

His lips curve. The smile is both cruel and devastating. "I think you were always lost to me."

You shake your head and turn to face him. "You lost me when you stopped trying, Dean, not before."

"I was thinking about my kid!" The rise in his voice disappears as soon as it came, with worried glances to the other room. "Millie deserves not being shuttled across houses. I have my reasons. What's yours?"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Don't do that. Don't pretend like you didn't say it. Talking about your co-worker when I was talking of the mother of my child. What the hell is your reason?"

You're on the verge of tears again. "I don't know, Dean. I don't know what I am in this anymore."

Dean tries to swallow his words with the lump in his throat. "So there's no we?"

You don't let him stop you this time.

Two weeks ago: PTMC ED

"At this point, stay with me."

The queens of hot gossip side-eye you as you and Samira switch to your tongue. You drag your palm across your face.

"He could still call. Let's give him a little more time?"

"How much more are you going to give?"

"I don't know. As much as he needs?" The slip up has them perking again, now immersed in their own words. Damn, you really needed to learn Tagalog and not tell them. But you think of what would happen if they learnt Tamil.

"You told me you were not above being a homewrecker for the right person."

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" You panic as Langdon comes closer to the station, eyes wide and hands up. Of course she has said that part in English. "First of all, I was joking. Second of all, as much as I love Dean, I really do wond—"

"Hey, Rudy, need you in central nine," Langdon calls you, as Samira sighs out, "Whatever you say."

"Looked like you needed a rescue." There's a shit-eating grin on his face when he realises he was right.

"Yeah, don't look so happy about it."

"I'll try my best. But what was that about?" You clutch the stethoscope around your neck a bit more tightly. A choking hazard but right now, you care less. You put on your best mean girls impression, waggling your eyebrows. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

A slight smile tugs at his mouth even as he tries to appear horrified. "Not since you're making that face."

One week ago: PTMC ED

You're not someone who's against working a double, but like any normal person, it's not your favourite thing in the world. But for today, you might kiss Dr. Abbot on the lips for letting you work it. Then flip him off because of course, guess who's here?

"You losing your touch, Rudy?" Langdon hands you his tablet a slight twist on his lips. "Your patient's back."

Bobby Stanton

Male, 60s, hypotension severe enough to cause syncope, all with normal labs and the B.P. stabilising after about an hour. You had discharged him with follow up. But now he's here again with his very concerned wife.

"Maybe it was my charm that brought him back."

"Yeah, that makes total sense." He laughs once before opening the door, "Mr. and Mrs. Stanton, I've found our mystery doctor."

"Please, Bobby and June." She's wearing the same pink tunic and jeans as before just more messily. The woman gives you a faint smile. It's hard when she probably thinks you're to blame.

"I can't say it's nice to see you guys again. What happened?"

"Well, we were in the bedroom and uhm—" she pauses with a faint rise of colour on her cheeks, "he suddenly lost consciousness. I brought him back as soon as I could after he woke up."

You huff once so you don't laugh. You can see Frank tapping his foot aggressively trying the same. "I see. Was there anything you were doing before that that could've caused this?"

"We were uhm— You know." Mr. Stanton makes some sort of gesture with his hand which only intended to be halfway lewd but totally hilarious.

Langdon takes a closer step to the patient, the doctor overriding every other instinct. "I'm sorry Mr. Stanton, for us to determine what is wrong with you we first need to understand its trigger. That involves getting a detailed view of what happened."

"Oh! Oh! I have this cream for hemorrhoids." His wife speaks up, taking out a tube from her bag. "You don't think it could be that, do you? I was putting it on for him both times when it happened, he tweaked his arm, you see. But it never happens when he does it."

She hands you the cream and it takes every bit in you to keep your control. "Mrs. Stanton does anyone in your house have chest pains?"

She lights up like you're a psychic. "I do."

You hold it out for him to see. "Well, that's it. Nitroglycerin. It's used to treat angina."

There's a twitch in his jaw as he speaks that wouldn't even be visible to anyone else. "But when applied to certain extremities it can cause a nearly fatal decrease in blood pressure."

You muster a kind smile. "All you have to do is just switch to the right ones."

She looks devastated. But you and Langdon barely make it out of there and into the doctor's lounge before breaking. You didn't think you'd laugh today. Not since Dean had dropped by Samira's to check on you. And somehow made it worse.

You pause at central, mind drifting back to the couple. Somehow, in someway, you and Dean did love each other, but never in this way. Never enough for the boring mundane stuff, and there was never enough time to talk about the ghosts that actually haunted either of you. Frank stares at you quizzically. "That's true love, you know?"

"What, rubbing lotion on someone's butt?" He deadpans at your fond tone, finding the concept somewhat utterly ridiculous.

"Yeah, Bluey." You tease him, thinking how stupid he's being when he's the one with a perfect family. "The kind you have."

The smirk on his face remains, but there's a moment when you think it's the kind he doesn't dare let fall off.

One day ago: House No. 143, Park Lane

It's dark. Fingernails trace his back in light circles. He turns around catches the flash of white teeth and a flick of tongue and hates it. He would like nothing more than to hide it in his mouth. That's what he does. He devours that pretty little thing, biting down on the lower lip when she fights. And moves downwards.

He's sloppy and messy and he couldn't care less. She feels like hot sand underneath his skin, her fingers carving into him. That makes him move closer.

He's barely moved beyond the sternum, when she gasps out his name, he's not surprised but he stops and stares at something he doesn't want to wake up from.

His eyes snap open nonetheless. He's drenched in his sweat. Abby's shifting beside him, to wake up for the day by the looks of the light filtering through the window sill.

Frank shifts ignoring the ache in his spine. He's good for about two more hours. He has to make this about her. Frank begins at her neck as she whines sleepily, not uninterested just groggy. He opens her lips up with a kiss. She submits, her mouth parting at his attention.

Having two kids meant having the least time to yourself and making the most of what they have. He drags the negligee off her and takes off his boxers. He knows Abby's a woman who likes the hard and fast rule. But he needs to absorb this. Sear it into his brain. The pace he sets has her moaning for more, begging him to move but he doesn't give in. It's a slow climb but at the end of it, the name that leaves his lips is yours. Not the one that he calls to annoy you. Your real name. The name everyone knows you by.

There's a hard sting on his right cheek as his wife pushes him off, gathering the blanket around herself. The door shuts loudly behind her and he knows that the kids will have woken up. Damn it. A cold shower would have been better.

So what’s the issue? 

Taehyung is what his friends refer to as a Soft Alpha: gentle, kind-hearted, and thoughtful. People always wonder why he hasn’t settled down with a nice omega and traded out his bachelor pad for a home full of pups. Taehyung’s reputation for being the ideal alpha makes his friends realize that lately there's been something wrong with him- quicker than Taehyung notices himself. Taehyung is no longer a Soft Alpha, and no one knows why. 

-

“Excuse me.” Taehyung pulls away from the nurse when she reaches for his arm to slip the blood pressure cuff around his bicep. “I need to answer my phone.” 

The nurse, a beta with sharp eyes and a gut-twisting scent of antiseptics, gives Taehyung a disapproving look. “Sir, phone usage is not allowed in the examination rooms.” 

“I’m sorry, but I honestly don’t give a fuck,” Taehyung snaps. 

He hops off the examination table to fish his cell phone from his suit jacket draped on the back of the chair in the corner of the room. His personal assistant’s name brightens the screen. It’s nearly six in the afternoon, about an hour after closing at Kim Enterprises– Seoul’s leading architecture firm. As a devout anticapitalist, Yoongi must have a serious reason for contacting Taehyung after hours. 

Ignoring the irritated spike in the nurse’s weak scent, Taehyung accepts the call. “What’s wrong?” 

“Wow, hello to you, too,” Yoongi huffs. It’s irrational, but Yoongi’s disgruntled greeting pisses Taehyung off. 

“I saw you an hour ago; is there a need for pleasantries? You called me for a reason, so what is it?”

The line goes silent almost long enough for Taehyung to snap again. 

Eventually clearing his throat, Yoongi’s tone is expressionless when he responds, “Woosung said he’s going to sue you. Yeonjun found the letter he had sent from his lawyer. I think the mail room got it mixed in with Kim Seokjin’s mail because it was dated from last week.”

“Sue me? He wants to sue me? Wha- Who the hell is Yeonjun?” 

“The intern… Jimin’s nephew… You hired him two months ago, Taehyung.” 

Taehyung isn’t a violent person. He feels guilt killing bugs– yet it takes everything in his power not to break his phone in half. Clenching his jaw, Taehyung bites down on his molars as a headache blooms in the middle of his forehead. This is not how he wanted to spend his Friday evening. 

The door to the examination room opens, fracturing Taehyung’s concentration. Once unusual, Taehyung’s behavior has become so commonplace that Dr. Yun hardly bats an eye when he notices Taehyung is on the phone when he shouldn’t be. He dismisses the nurse and sits on the stool at the small desk beside Taehyung. He sits with his hands laced together in his lap and a stethoscope draped around his neck. Despite being an alpha, Dr. Yun is difficult to read. It’s likely the suppressants he takes, combined with the practiced professionalism of being a doctor. 

“I have to go,” Taehyung announces to Yoongi. He ends the call before Yoongi can respond and slips his phone into his suit jacket’s pocket. 

“Dr. Yun.” Taehyung returns to the examination table. His black slacks hike up when he sits, revealing more of his crew socks. They’re sky blue with a pattern of little Pomeranians. 

“Mr. Kim,” Dr. Yun replies with a smile that lifts only one side of his mouth. “I’ve been told that you’re having some issues with anger management and stress-induced anxiety?” 

Calling it anger management seems extreme, but Taehyung is angry, so he feels he has little room to argue with a medical professional. Rather than immediately respond, he finds the edge of the paper sheet covering the examination table and picks at it. Much like Taehyung’s sanity, the paper is thin and tears easily. 

“I suppose that is correct.” Taehyung sighs, long and loud. 

“Well, I have the blood results from your last test and,” Dr. Yun retrieves a tablet the nurse left on his desk, “your vitals, weight, and such. So I have a few thoughts I’d like to share with you, but first, can you tell me what exactly you’re experiencing?” 

Tired of the paper sheet, Taehyung fiddles with his tie. He didn’t bother taking it off; he just loosened it. It’s skinny and black and stands out against his crisp white button-down shirt. Well, his shirt was crisp. Now it’s wrinkled and smells of sweat and something like burnt wood – so different than his usual honey. 

“As for the anxiety, I feel easily irritable and struggle to calm down after high-intensity emotions. Hot flashes, night sweats. Headaches are more common, maybe two a week at least,” Taehyung says, leaning back on his palms and staring at the white ceiling. “My scent’s been all over the place, apparently, though I haven’t noticed. And my joints are so stiff I feel like my tendons are calcifying. It’s like I’m experiencing menopause. Or turning into the goddamn Hulk.” 

“And have you been regularly taking your suppressants?” 

“One pill every morning with food, as prescribed,” Taehyung says in a clipped voice. Unsurprisingly, Dr. Yun isn’t phased. 

Nodding, Dr. Yun makes a few notes on the tablet. Taehyung has been going to him for nearly ten years since he moved to Seoul for his architecture graduate program. It’s their long-withstanding relationship that allows Dr. Yun to understand how dire the situation is. Kim Taehyung is gentle; seeing him like this is shocking to everyone Taehyung knows. 

“Thank you,” Dr. Yun says as he places the tablet back on the desk. “I have a feeling I know what’s wrong, but you aren’t going to like my recommendation.” 

“Okay? So what is it?” If Dr. Yun drags this out any longer, Taehyung might leave. 

“Suppressants aren’t meant to be taken daily for ten years, Taehyung. All these physiological symptoms you’re experiencing are your body’s way of begging you to have a natural cycle.” 

Knots twist in Taehyung’s stomach as Dr. Yun’s words sink in. He takes a deep breath before asking, “What are you saying?” 

“I’m saying I will not sign off on a refill of your suppressants until you experience a natural cycle – until you’ve experienced at least one rut. Your body–” 

“No.” 

Dr. Yun raises an eyebrow at Taehyung’s interruption. 

“Your body needs a reset, Taehyung. This isn’t my personal opinion; everything you’ve told me, along with your bloodwork, points to this being the issue. If you continue taking suppressants, you’re going to experience even more severe side effects. I’ve known of patients who have gone feral.”

Feral. 

The word spins in Taehyung’s mind like an internal halo, bright and heavy with responsibility – but nothing he wants for himself. 

Feral. Kim Taehyung can’t become feral. He’s the CEO of a major corporation. He has important business to take care of and a reputation to maintain. He has to get through a lawsuit, apparently. He can’t afford to become feral. Let alone what his friends would say! And he’s sure he’d have to be hospitalized. 

It can’t happen. It won’t happen. 

“Fine,” Taehyung concedes through clenched teeth and a muscle spasm in the side of his neck. “How soon do you think I’ll go into a rut once I stop taking them?”

Dr. Yun gives Taehyung a sympathetic smile. “After your first missed dose, I anticipate your rut will start within 48 hours.” 

Taehyung nearly chokes. “That quickly?” 

“Your body has been holding this in for a decade, Taehyung.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me if you knew this could happen!” 

This time, it’s Dr. Yun who sighs. 

“Honestly, I had plans to recommend weaning you off for a short period. Ten years is sort of the unofficial ‘expiration date’ for consecutive suppressant intake. It seems your body’s natural clock beat me to it, though.” 

Taehyung knows he needs this. He knows he has slowly become insufferable, which hurts his heart because he is a nice guy. He does his best to care for others and to be selfless and conscientious. He always thought he could fight against his instincts and win, but it seems that was a folly he too easily fell for. 

“Alright,” Taehyung says softly. His shoulders sag with the weight of his reality, no longer holding inside of him the anger needed to keep himself upright.

“It’ll be okay, Taehyung.” Dr. Yun squeezes Taehyung’s shoulder when he stands up. “Let the receptionist know to schedule another appointment in about two months. Your hormone levels should be regular by then.” 

“Thank you, Dr. Yun.” 

“Take care, Mr. Kim.”

The two men bow to each other before Dr. Yun slips out of the examination room, gently closing the door behind him. 

“Fuck me,” Taehyung curses, falling back onto the examination table with a thud. He wonders how long he can lie there staring at the blinding hospital lights before a nurse comes in and finds him, legs dangling, with his dress shoes and suit jacket strewn about. He’s sure his pheromones are stinking up the room with anxiety and frustration. 

It takes Taehyung another five minutes to finally get up, the decision triggered by his cell phone repeatedly ringing. This time, he mutes his phone once he shrugs on his jacket. He’s had enough drama for one day. 

-

Yeontan welcomes Taehyung when he gets home by peeing on the floor. 

“Aish, Tannie!” Taehyung groans as he quickly closes the door so Yeontan can’t run out into the apartment hallway. 

The little Pomeranian is too excited to control himself, having missed Taehyung since he has returned home later than usual. Taehyung’s automatic reaction is to be frustrated, but he calms himself down with a deep breath. Yeontan yaps at him, giving the laces of Taehyung’s shoes a tug as he bends over to remove them. 

“Did you miss me that much?” Taehyung scratches behind Yeontan’s fuzzy ears. “I’m sorry I was so late.” 

What a blessing it is to have a living, breathing creature to love him and be excited to see him. Even Taehyung’s out-of-control hormones can’t make him stay angry at the little puppy.

“Let’s get some food, okay?” he asks once he’s finished cleaning up the mess. 

Yeontan runs circles around Taehyung as he moves through the kitchen, getting Yeontan food and settling on making food for himself. He cooks, in bulk, lots of meat and rice, knowing he won’t be interested in fruits and vegetables while he’s suffering through his rut. He’ll hardly find the willpower to eat at all, he suspects. It’s been so long since he has gone through a rut. 

Once he’s full of food and Yeontan is taken care of, Taehyung changes into his pajamas and relaxes in the living room. But first, he must make an unavoidable phone call. 

“Hi, Yoongi.” Taehyung slumps onto the couch. He puts his phone on speaker mode so he can rest it on his chest and let his arms hang over the side and the back of the couch. 

“Oh, I get a real greeting this time?” 

“I’m sorry, alright? I behaved inappropriately, and I apologize for that.” 

“I’ll forgive you if you give me a raise.” 

Taehyung drags both of his hands down his face and lets out a low groan. “Sure, Yoongs. Next fiscal year.” 

“Deal.” Taehyung can easily imagine the smug look on Yoongi’s face. “What’s up?”

“I… Yoongi, please don’t tell anyone about this.”  

“Of course. Who do you think I am?” 

“Just making sure…” Taehyung mutters. He may consider Yoongi a good friend, but he is also his personal assistant. Being a friend and an employer can be a tricky line to walk. “My doctor ordered me to stop my suppressants, so I’ll need to take a rut leave. For… potentially a week.” 

Yoongi whistles. “Damn, Taehyung. Your dick won’t have any skin on it by the time you’re back in the office.” 

“Shut the fuck up!” 

“Sorry, sorry. I’m guessing this means you want me to find someone to watch Tannie?” 

Taehyung lifts his head to look at Yeontan. The little guy is finished with his dinner and has decided to chew on a purple stuffed whale Jimin gifted him for his seventh birthday. 

“Yeah. Do you think Jimin can? I really don’t want to have to ask my mother.” 

“Let’s avoid that,” Yoongi agrees. “I’ll give Jimin a call tonight and text you. Is there anything else you need? Food? A fleshlight?” 

“You are insufferable.”

“Not as insufferable as you’ve been! Kim ‘I’m too good to be ruled by my instincts like the rest of you animals’ Taehyung.” 

Taehyung hangs up on Yoongi for the second time today without saying goodbye.

“He’s lucky we’re friends, or I would have fired him years ago,” Taehyung says to Yeontan.

Yeontan bites down on his toy and shakes it ferociously, making it squeak a few times. 

“Exactly,” Taehyung huffs as he hauls himself off the couch. When he walks past Yeontan, he gives the little guy some head scratches. “You always get me.” 

As pathetic as it may be, sometimes Taehyung feels as though Yeontan is the only one who understands him. Sure, he’s a dog, but he’s Tannie, Taehyung’s pride and joy. When Taehyung and his previous partner broke up, Yeontan was the only thing Taehyung cared about. His ex could have wanted the entire company, and Taehyung would have given it to them if he could keep Yeontan. Luckily, it was an amicable split, but Taehyung still thinks about it whenever Yeontan does something devastatingly cute. He was always Taehyung’s dog anyway; Taehyung picked him out. 

The thought of his ex peaks Taehyung’s lousy mood again. He scowls through his bedtime routine, practically showering with a permanent frown. It reminds him of the other reason why he doesn’t want to give up his suppressants: he doesn’t have a rut partner. 

He doesn’t need one, but he will be miserable without one. Even the nurse asked Taehyung if he had a partner due to the potential severity of his deferred rut. Of course, Taehyung had lied and said yes. It seemed like the most logical thing to do if he wanted to avoid a lecture from Dr. Yun about the benefits of the hospital’s rut and heat partner services. 

There’s no way Taehyung is letting his doctor find him a rut partner. He’s a grown adult. He’ll find one himself. 

Or… maybe not. 

It takes Taehyung nearly an hour to update his Tinder profile. 

He has to redownload the app, and then he can’t remember his password. Far too many text message verification codes later, he sits in bed with a profile he hasn’t touched in at least three years. The photos on his profile are outdated, he has dozens of unread messages, and his settings are set to show him the profiles of omega women only– that makes him laugh, at least. It’s a tight, short laugh that’s more a huff of air than anything else because he doesn’t want to disturb the sheet mask he’s wearing. 

“Good god,” Taehyung snorts as he lifts his half-empty glass of rosé to his lips. “Who let me use this app, Tannie? Why didn’t you stop me?” 

When Yeontan hears his name, he opens one eye to stare at Taehyung from where he’s curled up in the bed’s blankets. There’s so much judgment in that one eye that Taehyung scowls some more. 

Taehyung hardly used dating apps. By the time they became popular, he’d felt too old to dabble in them, or he’d been in a committed relationship. After the breakup, he humored Jimin by creating a profile – “just to try it out,” as Jimin said. Of course, it went nowhere because a man with exceptional wealth on Tinder only means one thing, and Taehyung is not interested in paying some twenty-year-old an allowance. 

Changing the settings to diversify the gender pool of the omega profiles he sees, Taehyung snuggles deeper into his bed's warmth and begins swiping. 

Jackson, 29

He’s edgy but pretty, rather muscular for an omega, which Taehyung likes, a DJ at a popular local nightclub. They match, and Taehyung isn’t surprised. 

Taeyeon, 34

She looks promising, with a mature, almost otherworldly beauty that captures Taehyung’s attention, as do her interests in glassblowing and painting. It’s another match. 

Seojoon, 35

Clean-cut, also owns a dog, and is extremely attractive, to the point that Taehyung wonders if he’s a catfish. Taehyung’s heart swells when he reads that Seojoon works as a veterinarian. Taehyung almost messages him when they match, but he closes out of the app in frustration. 

He needs someone to fuck by the end of the day tomorrow, and he’s sitting in his bed imagining going on dog park dates with a random man on the internet. 

“Goddamn it!” Taehyung curses and tosses his phone on his nightstand. He chugs the remaining wine before stomping into the bathroom to peel off his sheet mask. 

At least his skin is clear. 

-

The next day, Jimin comes over to pick up Yeontan. It isn’t unusual; Jimin often cares for Yeontan when Taehyung must go on business trips. Unfortunately, such trips are more common now that Taehyung has taken over as CEO of Kim Enterprises, allowing his father to retire. The old man would have kept on working, but Taehyung’s mother wouldn’t have it. 

“You could have called me yourself, you know,” Jimin says with an annoyed pout as he slings Yeontan’s tote bag over his shoulder. 

Taehyung doesn’t have any children, but Yeontan may as well be his child. Taehyung packed Yeontan’s food, toys, outfits (so cute!), snacks, and his favorite blanket in the tote – just in case.  

“I was afraid to bother you,” Taehyung admits sheepishly, “And Yoongi offered, anyway.” 

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Namjoon and I have been mated for three months, Tae. We’ve adjusted to life as a couple at this point. Stop acting like he’s on my knot 24/7.” 

“Don’t say it like that,” Taehyung scrunches his nose. 

“It’s what you’re thinking!” 

“It is not.” 

“Hmph.” Jimin watches Taehyung crouch to put Yeontan’s leash and collar on him. 

When Taehyung stands, Jimin reaches for the hand that isn’t holding Yeontan’s leash. He gives it a little squeeze that matches the gentleness of his smile. 

“I’m never too busy for you, Tae. You can always call me, alright? Especially this week, if you need anything.” 

Embarrassed by his best friend’s ability to read him so well, Taehyung pulls Jimin into a hug for comfort and to hide his burning face. 

“Thank you, Jiminie.” 

“Of course!” Jimin pats Taehyung on the back of the head. “Now, go eat some food and take a shower. And put down some towels on your bed. And stash water bottles all over the place, okay? Maybe get a nice relaxing playlist to put on. Or porn. That could be nice, actually. You have that TV in your bedroom. Oh, and don’t try to fight it so much. I know how you’re always–” 

“Jimin-ah, get out, come on. Tannie wants to go,” Taehyung hurries Jimin out of the door before he can embarrass him any further. 

“You’re thirty-six years old, Kim Taehyung! You can handle rut talk, you big baby,” Jimin cackles over his shoulder as he walks to the elevator with an excited Yeontan leading the way. 

“Yeah, well, I haven’t had a rut since I was in graduate school,” Taehyung mutters. Even then, the last time he experienced his rut, he’d had a partner to help him through it. Now look at him: just Taehyung and his right hand. 

Taehyung listens to Jimin, though. He keeps water bottles and clean hand towels stocked in his bedroom. He plays his smooth jazz playlist as he cleans up his apartment, figuring it’d be best to get that out of the way before he devolves into an animal for a week. 

He doesn’t keep a rotating playlist of porn going on his bedroom TV, but he has some favorite videos at his disposal if he really needs them. 

Taehyung knows he shouldn’t feel so bothered by all of this, but he has gotten so accustomed to ignoring the alpha inside of him that he has grown afraid of it. Jimin often tries to talk to Taehyung about it, using himself as an example of an alpha who doesn’t take suppressants. Jimin is gentle and kind. He smells rich but sweet, like dark chocolate. Jimin is at peace with his alpha but also has an omega to keep him grounded. Namjoon is calm and level-headed, and his rose scent mingles prettily with Jimin’s. 

It’s obvious that Jimin has figured himself out, like most people their age. At one point, Taehyung had thought he’d had himself figured out, too. 

Exhaustion creeps through Taehyung’s body as the day passes. He knows it’s a sign that his rut is on the horizon, but he tries not to think about it. Instead, he forces himself to get work done. There’s the lawsuit that will be waiting for him when he returns to work – such a ridiculous thing he also doesn’t want to think about – and he supposes it would be best to get a head start on reading the documents Yoongi emails him. 

By the time night falls, Taehyung is curled like a cooked shrimp over his laptop. His lower back is killing him from hunching over the coffee table while he sits on the couch, and his eyes burn. 

Sending Yoongi a quick text that he’s logging off for the night – for the week, Taehyung closes his laptop and leans backward into the couch. He knows he’s being dramatic. All alphas go through this. He’ll be fine.

-

Taehyung wakes up with his hand shoved in his pajama pants. His fingers wrap around his hard cock, already sticky with cum. He must have had a wet dream – something that hasn’t happened since he was a teenager. 

With a groan, Taehyung squeezes the head of his cock. More cum dribbles out of his slit, thicker than it usually is. It squelches when he begins pumping his cock in long, slow strokes. He’s so hard it aches. He’s so hard it hurts. 

Heat swells from deep within Taehyung’s abdomen, prickling his skin as it travels through his body. He shoves his pants down his thighs and doesn’t bother kicking them off. He just needs enough room to take out his cock and run his hand along it without fabric restricting him.

It’s crazy how he feels his brain grow foggier by the second, as though the heat has made a sauna in his head and turned his brain into soup. He tries to push through it, to keep his mind focused on anything other than the repeated phrases echoing in his head. 

Omega. Need omega. Breed, knot, omega, omega. 

Instincts tell Taehyung to move quickly, to buck his hips hard and fast like he’s fucking his pups into a beautiful omega, a strong one who can handle being pinned down and taken, a healthy one who can raise their pups and keep Taehyung satisfied. Logic tells him to go slow, to take his time as he rolls his palm against the head of his cock and fondles his balls because the orgasm will feel better if he drags it out. 

Taehyung ends up somewhere in between instincts and logic. He lies still on the bed, slightly propped up by his pillows, and glides his fist over his cock quickly. It’s easy with how wet he is. 

“Fuuuuuck,” Taehyung throws his head back and hits it against his bed frame. 

He’s full-on panting now, gasping for air amid guttural groans. His eyes screw shut, and he furrows his eyebrows so tightly it hurts his forehead. It’s too much, the pressure inside of him. It’s hot and tight, weighs on his chest, and burns him from the inside out. He wants to claw it out of himself. 

Omega. Where is his omega? 

He doesn’t have one. Why doesn’t he have one?  

Taehyung’s mouth falls open in a long whine, something strangely dancing along the line between erotic and mournful. He quickly reaches down to squeeze his knot at the base of his cock, applying the pressure he instinctually needs to be able to finally cum. 

He cums so hard he bites his bottom lip deep enough to puncture his skin. Blood leaks into his mouth, staining his teeth red and coating his tongue with the taste of metal. He doesn’t even notice the pain and can only focus on each spurt of wasted cum that paints his stomach and dribbles between his fingers. Cum that should be inside an omega.

Sweat rolls down his neck and gathers on the backs of his thighs. He’s still leaking cum, his cock twitching and spurting out more every few seconds. He can’t stop his hands from shaking but doesn’t want to let go of his knot because it still hasn’t gone down. 

“I fucking hate this,” Taehyung moans, slumping back onto his pillows. “Fuck, I hate this.” 

Everything is wrong. It’s all wrong. Taehyung smells wrong. Alone, just himself. There is nothing to mix with the potent alpha pheromones in the room, nothing to cut the edge off. His cum is everywhere. Wasted. He’s cold. His bed isn’t sorted right. There’s no omega touch to how his blankets lie on his bed. No sweet smell of an omega scenting his neck, his wrists, kissing him. 

God, what would Taehyung give to be kissed right now? 

His alpha calls for an omega, but he doesn’t have one. He’s a restless beast whose cage sits unlocked, yet he still paces inside, waiting for something that isn’t coming. 

With a sigh, Taehyung cleans himself up with a towel and takes advantage of his post-nut clarity by getting himself breakfast. Even though it’s only been a few hours and he came twice, hunger gnaws at his stomach. He scarfs down rice and bulgogi with a faraway look in his eyes. He doesn’t even bother to sit down at the kitchen table. 

It only takes a few minutes after he’s done eating for the desire to stir in the pit of his stomach once again. It’s worse now, like Taehyung’s alpha instincts are dragging him away, leaving him clawing at the ground in a futile attempt to keep his sanity. 

His hands are so sweaty that he drops his phone a few times when he reaches for it. He needs something to make him feel less crazy, to ground him.

“Jimin-ah,” Taehyung moans into the phone once his friend picks up, shame making his cheeks catch fire. 

“Oh, TaeTae. What do you need? Should I come over? Or call Dr. Yun?” 

Taehyung presses his sweaty forehead against the cool marble kitchen counter and tries not to panic. 

“Omega,” he hisses between gritted teeth. 

“I know, Tae. It would be so much better if you weren’t alone; trust me, I know.” 

“Don’t know what to do,” Taehyung whines and tries to fight the desperation clawing at his stomach. “God, Jimin-ah, I feel crazy.” 

There’s nothing Jimin can do. He’s a mated alpha; Jimin couldn’t give Taehyung the comfort he needs, even if he wanted to. Taehyung knows this, but Jimin is his best friend, the first person he goes to when he needs something. Yoongi is a close second, but Yoongi is an omega, and Taehyung wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea if he called Yoongi while moaning like a horny monster.

“Stop shaming yourself and let go, okay? You’re not crazy; we all go through this. It’s natural. Stop trying to fight it.” 

Taehyung wants to fight it. Maybe it’s because he’s alone, and he hates it. Maybe it’s because he’s never known true peace, and there’s this instinct inside of him to search for it. The thing about instincts is that they'll always win no matter how hard Taehyung tries to fight them.

-

“Hello! Welcome to Gangnam Aromatherapy. Do you have an appointment with us?” 

Taehyung wants to say no. He wants to turn on his heel and march out of the clinic like a bat out of hell. He would’ve if Jimin wasn’t standing behind him with his fingers pressed into his lower back like a gun. 

“He does!” Jimin perks up from over Taehyung’s shoulder. “With my fiancé, Dr. Kim.” 

“Oh my gosh, Jimin-ssi, I didn’t even see you!” the receptionist giggles. 

Her comment makes Jimin’s chocolate scent turn bitter. The change is so slight that no one would notice unless they knew Jimin well, and Taehyung likes to think he knows Jimin the best – aside, perhaps, from Namjoon. 

“He’s kind of small, isn’t he?” Taehyung smirks when Jimin pinches his side through his t-shirt. “Easy to lose him.” 

“Let’s get going, shall we? Don’t want to leave Namjoon waiting.” Jimin pokes Taehyung’s back again, forcing him to follow the receptionist through the door separating the clinic’s waiting room and the therapists’ offices. 

The clinic looks like any therapist’s office. Nondescript doors line the hallway. Little sound machines on the floor near each door emit white noise to prevent accidental (or intentional) eavesdropping as people walk through the clinic. Taehyung has been to a therapist or two, though he doesn’t regularly attend sessions. He’s too busy for that kind of thing, even though Jimin harps on him about his mental health all the time. 

“Have a good session,” the receptionist says with a polite bow once they reach Namjoon’s office. 

Taehyung inhales deeply and pushes the door open, Jimin breathing down his neck. He’d ask him to leave, but there’s no getting in between Jimin and his Joonie. 

They’re a cute couple, Taehyung has to admit. He stands to the side to let Jimin push past him and run around Namjoon’s desk. There’s Jimin, so small and dainty that no one ever expects him to be an alpha. And then Namjoon, a large, solidly-built omega. Taehyung knows it brings the two immense pleasure to shock people with their relationship. 

It just goes to show how shitty making assumptions is. 

“Taehyung-ah,” Namjoon greets, or at least attempts to, while Jimin peppers his face with kisses. “Jimin, please, I need to do my job.” 

“It’s only Tae.” 

“Jimin-ah, please.” 

With a glare, Jimin crosses his arms against his chest and stalks off to plop on the couch on the opposite side of the room. It’s a rather big office, which makes sense, considering Namjoon owns the therapy clinic and is the lead practitioner. 

“Hey Joon,” Taehyung greets with a boxy grin. When Namjoon walks around the desk to clasp Taehyung’s hand in his, the two men pull each other in and clap their hands against each other’s backs. 

“Are you okay with Jimin staying?” Namjoon asks before sitting down in the armchair in front of his desk. 

Taehyung nods and follows Namjoon’s lead, sitting in the armchair opposite him. There’s no need for privacy between the two men; they share everything already. Jimin isn’t even interested in what’s going on. He’s already consumed by his phone. 

Still, Taehyung appreciates that Namjoon asks. 

“So…” Taehyung sits back in the armchair, admiring how soft the fabric is against his skin. “What am I supposed to do?” 

It’s been nearly three months since Taehyung has been off suppressants, and a trip to Dr. Yun’s office told him that his hormone levels are still irregular. He didn’t need a doctor’s appointment to know that. He has felt off ever since his rut. All his previous symptoms remain, but what’s worse is his heightened feeling of loneliness. He may seem fine now, cracking jokes at Jimin’s expense and smiling with Namjoon, but behind the closed door of his apartment, Taehyung has been miserable. Not even little Yeontan can cheer him up for long.

When Taehyung mentioned Namjoon’s clinic – at the demand of Jimin – Dr. Yun recommended that Taehyung try out scent therapy. 

“Normally, new clients meet individually with all of our available therapists to find a good match. However, knowing you, I thought doing a traditional meeting would be a bit… overwhelming.” 

Namjoon is right. The idea of back-to-back meetings with omega therapists to find the one whose scent is the most calming to his alpha sounds like a stimulation nightmare. Taehyung is extremely testy right now, though he thinks he has gotten better at managing himself, considering the circumstances. There was some truth to a natural cycle being good for him; Taehyung will admit that.  

“Thanks,” Taehyung says simply. 

“Of course,” Namjoon smiles, “I had to get creative with an alternative process, so I came up with these.”

Namjoon adjusts his glasses and reaches over to grab a small stack of manila envelopes held together with a rubber band. Removing the band, he chooses one of the envelopes and hands it to Taehyung. 

“You can open them. I don’t want my scent to taint them,” Namjoon encourages Taehyung. 

Inside, the envelope has a single piece of fabric. It’s square and a deep, royal purple. Taehyung guesses it’s made of cotton from the way it feels. 

“Do I…?” He slowly lifts the fabric to his nose when Namjoon nods. 

“I had each of our therapists scent the fabric for you. They’re different colors, so you can examine all of them to see how you feel, and I can let you know which therapist you’ve picked. This also prevents other factors from influencing your decision, so it should be the least biased process,” Namjoon explains. “If it’s alright, I’ll step out with Jimin. Let you have some quiet time to think?” 

Once Jimin and Namjoon are gone, Taehyung analyzes the fabrics. There are six, more than Taehyung expected. There should be at least one omega in this batch who would agree with Taehyung’s alpha, right? 

The thing is, Taehyung doesn’t know what to look for. He can, for the most part, distinguish the scents of each fabric. The purple one smells like crisp apples; the pink, like vanilla. The orange one reminds him of the smell of the sea in the summer, and the blue one smells floral, like lilacs. The green fabric smells, funnily enough, like freshly cut grass. 

Taehyung brings the sixth fabric to his nose, inhales slowly, and tries not to think about how weird his life is now. This square is yellow and smells sweet and doughy, like a bakery. 

None of the scents are bad, but none of them necessarily do anything for him. What they’re supposed to do, Taehyung has no idea. Is he supposed to feel goosebumps or something? Is he supposed to get the alpha urge to howl? 

Maybe he’s broken. Perhaps the suppressants have completely fucked up his system. 

Taehyung returns the fabrics to their envelopes and uses the rubber band to hold them together again. Disappointment floods his system, but he tries to keep the sinking feeling from dragging him down too deeply into the depression already clouding him. Jimin would tell him that he’s not a failure. Hell, Namjoon would tell him that, too. But they don’t understand what it’s like to feel helpless and alone like Taehyung does while he plummets toward losing his grip on his body and mind. 

Resigned to tell Namjoon that none of the omega therapists will work for him, Taehyung slouches in the armchair and waits. All he can think about is how many omegas there are in this building and how he can’t force his mind to clear for any of them. 

Poor Namjoon went out of his way to make Taehyung comfortable and for nothing. Guilt bites at Taehyung’s chest, even though it isn’t his fault. Not really. 

When the door to the office swings open, Taehyung’s heart leaps out of his chest. He digs his fingers into the armchair and tries to calm himself down, his alpha not liking that Namjoon could sneak up on him while he was distracted by his thoughts. 

“Oh, sorry, I was looking for Namj– uh, Dr. Kim,” a voice Taehyung doesn’t recognize rushes through an apology. 

Taking a deep breath, Taehyung focuses on channeling the spike of panic welling up in his chest from being caught off guard into more productive, positive energy. He’s been doing a better job of keeping his cool since his rut, though he’s still far testier than normal.

Surprisingly, instead of frustration or stress boiling fresh and hot under his skin, Taehyung feels… relaxed?

The scent that hits him when he inhales is that of an omega. It’s fresh and delicate but cut sharp with an edge that adds a unique layer to the scent, unlike anything Taehyung has ever experienced. The sweet smell is brushed with a hint of acidity that deepens the longer Taehyung sits rigid in his chair. Taehyung’s rude behavior likely puts off the omega.

For some reason, the thought that he could be causing the omega discomfort severely disturbs Taehyung. He turns around in his chair, then quickly stands to bow at the omega hovering in the doorway. The bow is low and lasts long enough to make the omega sputter. 

“Please, oh my gosh, please stand up,” the omega’s words rush out as he waves his hands at Taehyung as if to beckon him to straighten his posture.

The omega’s scent spikes with embarrassment. Taehyung has to swallow because it’s so sweet that it smells almost juicy, and he can’t let himself stand there with a watering mouth like some kind of a knothead. Taking mercy on the poor man, Taehyung stands to his full height and finally gets a good look at who the omega is that smells of fresh peaches.

If Taehyung thought the omega’s scent was heavenly, he can’t begin to construct a coherent thought about how stunning the omega is.

Round, timid eyes stare back at him. The omega’s gaze doesn’t leave Taehyung’s face, even as Taehyung lets his own roam the omega. His slightly parted lips are a pretty pink, and his cheeks are dusted a rosy shade to match. He raises his hand to tuck a strand of dark hair behind his ear, making the silver hoops lining the lobe clink together. 

Like his scent, the omega is sweet with an edge. He looks soft in all the right places, with a smooth slope to his nose and pretty dips to his collarbones, somewhat exposed by the stretched-out collar of his black t-shirt. The rest of him is hidden under baggy clothes, black cargo pants tight at the waist but loose around the legs, and chunky black sneakers. 

Taehyung has seen this omega before. They’ve never met, but Taehyung recognizes him from the photos framed on the walls in Namjoon’s apartment and tagged Instagram posts.

The omega parts his lips further, the tip of his tongue touching the back of his front teeth as though he’s about to speak, but he’s cut off by the office door swinging open.

“Jungkook-ah! You can’t just barge into my office whenever you want just because you’re my little brother. There are laws against that,” Namjoon huffs, though the exasperated sound does nothing to dampen the affectionate look he gives his brother. Namjoon stands behind the omega, Jungkook, and grabs him by his shoulders to steer him further into the room.

“Hyung, I didn’t mean to,” Jungkook challenges with a pout. He tries turning his head to look at Namjoon but nearly trips over the rug adorning the sitting around in front of Namjoon’s desk.

“Oh, don’t be so hard on our Jungkookie.” Jimin skips into the office, wearing a matching pout. After a moment, his eyes land on Taehyung, who is still standing between the two armchairs at Namjoon’s desk. His eyebrows raise, almost as though he’d forgotten that Taehyung was even there.

“TaeTae, did we disturb you? Joon! Taehyung’s fabrics,” Jimin frantically waves at the bundle of envelopes Taehyung forgot that he’s holding.

“Oh no,” Namjoon says softly, “We’re ruining the whole thing with our scents, Taehyung, I apologize. One of them is still open.”

The energy, conflicting scents, and number of people in the room are overwhelming. More prone to overstimulation now, Taehyung’s senses are on overdrive as he struggles to keep up with the other three men talking over each other. His eyes play tennis, bouncing between Jimin and Namjoon, unsure which one of them is supposed to be giving him comfort when both are fussing over an experiment that didn’t even work.

“Are you okay?”

Jungkook touches Taehyung’s hand that’s holding the envelopes. His fingers slip around Taehyung’s wrist, and lightly press the soft inside where his pulse throbs under the delicate skin. The two lock eyes, Jungkook’s still round and timid, while Taehyung’s are bright and wild.

“I’m…” Taehyung’s words anchor themselves in his throat as his gaze drops from Jungkook’s face to watch the omega slide his hand over Taehyung’s, causing their wrists to rub against each other.

Jungkook is scenting him right here in the middle of Namjoon’s office, in front of his older brother and his older brother’s fiance. They don’t even actually know each other and have only heard about each other from Namjoon and Jimin. Despite this, Jungkook makes one of the most intimate gestures someone can make, almost exclusively reserved for family members and mates and, on occasion, very close friends. 

Taehyung adores Jimin, and even they rarely scent each other. 

“Honey,” Jungkook whispers, and Taehyung’s eyes grow wide.

“Excuse me?” Namjoon demands loudly.

The question makes Jungkook’s cheeks flush a deeper pink, and he quickly retracts his arm. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his baggy cargo pants and refuses to look at anyone.

“He smells like honey, is what I meant to say.”

Licking his chapped lips, Taehyung inhales deeply once again, this time smelling his honey scent intermingled with Jungkook’s peaches. 

For the first time in months, maybe even nearly a year, Taehyung feels his alpha settle. It isn’t necessarily satiated; there’s something more that it needs, though he doesn’t know what, not in the moment. There’s too much going on for him to tap into himself and truly listen to what’s inside him the way Dr. Yun and Namjoon have advised him. However, Taehyung knows something is happening, and it’s somewhat terrifying.

“Omega,” Taehyung says hoarsely, fingers digging into the back of the armchair. Namjoon’s envelopes are scattered across the floor, some of the fabrics falling out. He can practically hear each neck snap in his direction.

“Kim Taehyung,” Jimin scolds as though Taehyung is a child misbehaving, “I recognize that you’re overwhelmed right now, but you cannot talk to people like that, and you know it.”

Taehyung would be embarrassed, but he can’t help the excitement that unfurls inside his chest. It may sound crazy, but he feels like he wants to… howl.

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung says, taking a deep breath and inhaling peaches and honey. His entire body tingles. He can sense how confused Jungkook is, and all he wants is to reassure him that he’s not some kind of freak. 

He’s just a nice guy who is losing his mind over a pretty omega who smells like he could be… Taehyung’s omega.

“I’m sorry. I am… well, I’m here,” Taehyung says with a strained laugh as he gestures around the room. 

Understanding, Jungkook shyly looks up at Taehyung through his fringe bangs and gives him a small smile. 

“Jungkook-ah,” Namjoon calls out.

“Hmm?” Jungkook doesn’t take his eyes off Taehyung; he is still timid but unafraid.

“Can you please get Taehyung some water? There should be bottles in the fridge in the back.”

Jungkook seems reluctant to leave the room. He gives Taehyung yet another smile, something gentle and meant only for Taehyung, until the door closes behind him.

Alone with his friends, Taehyung exhales for what feels like the first time. It takes everything in his power not to rip through the door and follow Jungkook. He wants to so badly. The urge is strong enough that he has to force his attention somewhere else and hold in the whine that threatens to slip from somewhere deep in his chest. 

The problem is that Taehyung can’t hide his distressed scent from Namjoon and Jimin. It’s embarrassing to have such a severe reaction to another person. Never in Taehyung’s life has he ever behaved like that. 

Well, not until his instincts decided to regress. 

Taehyung gathers Namjoon’s envelopes, haphazardly stuffing the fabrics back inside, and holds them out to Namjoon with a weak expression. 

“I don’t know what has come over me,” Taehyung admits quietly. 

No one acknowledges his outstretched arm and how it trembles with the force of keeping himself rooted to his spot in Namjoon’s office and not throwing himself out into the hallway in search of Jungkook.

He must be touch-starved. That is the only explanation Taehyung can come up with for why he reacted so strongly to Jungkook scenting him. 

“What the hell just happened?” Jimin echoes Taehyung’s thoughts. 

Jimin turns to Namjoon with something furiously protective in his eyes. It’s an alpha stare, one Taehyung has unfortunately become familiar with. 

Namjoon looks lost in thought, his eyes flitting from the envelopes in Taehyung’s hand to his closed office door. After a few painfully silent moments, he lets out a long sigh. 

“I think Taehyung just imprinted on Jungkook.” 

-

The cool autumn breeze forces Taehyung to keep his suit jacket on despite his desire to take it off. He feels stuffy wearing it, sticking out amongst the other people, spending their crisp afternoon meandering the park. The other park-goers don athletic wear or well-loved jeans and comfy sweaters. Meanwhile, Taehyung looks like a pretentious prick in his pinstriped designer suit, silver cufflinks, and Chelsea boots. He wears his hair short and slicked back, but the breeze has pulled out a few stray hairs.

Sniffling from the chill at the tip of his nose, Taehyung smells Jungkook before he sees him. He lifts his head from where he’d been watching a little bird peck at crackers spilled on the sidewalk and catches a glimpse of the omega rounding the corner, passing the surprisingly quiet playground. 

It doesn’t take long for Jungkook to reach the bench where Taehyung sits, a bundled-up blob of a man, a slumped sack of potatoes barely hanging onto gravity.

“Hi,” Taehyung whispers, almost letting the wind take his words with the leaves that skitter across the ground.

When had the seasons changed? Taehyung feels like the moment he met Jungkook, the rest of the world passed him by.

“Hi, Taehyung-ssi,” Jungkook is polite and still timid, even though it has been a few weeks since the two men have begun their daily meetings. “How are you doing?”

Taehyung scoots over so Jungkook can sit beside him on the bench. They twist to face each other, knees almost touching. Taehyung’s arm is slung across the back of the bench. Jungkook sits with his hands clasped between his thighs.

They’ve gone about this all backward, and it’s Taehyung’s fault.

“Would it be silly of me to say that I feel better now that you’re here?” It’s true; Taehyung doesn’t have to say it because they both know it’s true.

Namjoon was correct; Taehyung imprinted on Jungkook. That’s why he can hardly stand going a day without seeing the omega. If he thought the alpha aggression and loneliness were debilitating, not having Jungkook by his side makes his life a living hell. If it weren’t for these daily meetings that Namjoon considers a strange way of Taehyung receiving the scent therapy he needs, Taehyung would be even more of an uncontrollable disaster than he had been before. 

“Yes, because you say that every day,” Jungkook admits with a giggle. He is still so shy, even when Taehyung has done his best to be approachable.

“We probably look silly to everyone else here, some stuffy old alpha with such a pretty omega. May as well be silly, too.”

Jungkook scrunches his nose and rolls his eyes, but Taehyung can sense the satisfied feeling that’s making his scent sweeter. Since having these little moments with Jungkook, Taehyung has discovered that the omega enjoys praise, no matter how small. It’s cute. Everything Jungkook does is cute.

Taehyung knows he’s entering dangerous territory, but his alpha craves the man sitting beside him all bundled up in an oversized hoodie and tapered joggers. Comfort. That’s what Jungkook brings Taehyung. It’s in his rounded eyes, and bunny smile, his playful demeanor and gentle way of dealing with the nonsense Taehyung has accidentally dragged him into.

“You aren’t old,” Jungkook mumbles. He hides his hand in his sleeve and uses his sweater paw to brush at his reddened nose.

“I feel old.”

“Age is a mindset.”

Taehyung fidgets with one of the buttons of his suit jacket and fights the urge to pop it off. He wants to hold Jungkook because he knows he’s cold, and his alpha instincts tell him to take care of him. Taehyung can’t, though. They’re acquaintances at best. Jungkook is kind enough to spend time with Taehyung, even if it’s during Jungkook’s lunch break before he returns to his job at the local art museum, working as an exhibit designer.

Eventually, the imprint bond will wear off. Dr. Yun told Taehyung that it will take time, and he’ll likely be miserable once it was clear that Jungkook’s omega has rejected him, but he’ll eventually get over it. It’s for the best.

What a ridiculous thing, Taehyung thinks, to have gone his whole life ignoring his alpha instincts in the hopes of avoiding the very problems he has now created for himself.

“I’m sorry, peaches,” Taehyung apologizes softly, the little nickname he has given Jungkook flowing easily from his lips. 

While Taehyung talks, Jungkook reaches for the hand that’s picking at his jacket’s button. He gently pulls Taehyung’s fingers away from the button and intertwines them with his own. He gives Taehyung a small smile, and Taehyung’s scent spikes with uncontrollable happiness, making Jungkook blush.

“You apologize too much.”

“I’ve thrust myself onto you, a total stranger, completely upending your daily life simply so I can prevent myself from being more of a menace to the world than I already am.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes again, but Taehyung focuses on how nice it feels to have Jungkook run his thumb along the sensitive spot on his wrist. It’s a subtle gesture, not quite scenting him but still providing comfort.

"We aren’t total strangers. I knew of you through Namjoon hyung and Jimin hyung,” Jungkook points out as he raises his hand, fingers still laced with Taehyung’s. “Whenever they would visit me in Ilsan, Jimin hyung never shut up about you. I felt like I knew you already, with how much he’d talk. I would tease Joonie hyung all the time about it.”

Jungkook pauses to rub their knuckles against his cheek. Taehyung’s body goes slack with the little touches. He leans against the bench and lets his head tilt to the side. 

Jungkook’s eyes flutter close, eyelashes lying prettily on the apples of his cheeks. It isn’t only Taehyung who appreciates the closeness his imprint bond requires from the two of them. Sometimes Taehyung wonders if Jungkook is lonely, too, but he doesn’t ask him.

“How mean of a little doll like you. What would you say?” Taehyung asks if only to see Jungkook’s silly smile as he recounts the memories.

“Oh, you know, bad things! Like, ‘Ahh, Joonie hyung, I think Jiminie hyung may have another boyfriend,’ silly things like that.”

“I believe Namjoon would kill me.”

Jungkook’s eyes open but stay crinkled from grinning. “He would.”

“Namjoon spoke a lot about you, too,” Taehyung enjoys admitting this because he knows it will make Jungkook grow pink with embarrassment. “So often bragging about his genius of a little brother, an omega with a good head on his shoulders and fierce determination in his heart.” 

“Stop it,” Jungkook squeezes Taehyung’s hand. “He said no such thing.” 

Taehyung only grins. 

Maybe he’s laying it on a bit thick, but he likes how giggly Jungkook grows, and it helps the omega relax more in Taehyung’s presence. 

Talking to Jungkook is easy. Conversation flows from them effortlessly, bouncing from one topic to another without any hitches or awkward pauses. Jungkook may still be shy, but he comes alive the longer they sit at the park bench — or the coffee shop, restaurant, or library they’ve met at before.

Taehyung tries not to feel like their meetings are dates, but more often than not, he checks his hair in his car’s mirror before rushing to their meeting place for the day and has taken to bringing Jungkook little gifts. Usually, they’re simple, like buying him a coffee before he arrives at the coffee shop or gifting him a scarf when they spend their meetings outdoors.

Taehyung knows this urge to spoil Jungkook is a sign of wanting to court him, but he doesn’t try to fight it. Dr. Yun and Jimin have told him that fighting his instincts will only worsen it. Still, he feels terrible, as though he’s forcing a pseudo-relationship onto Jungkook, all because he can’t keep his alpha in check.

A gentle, tinkling alarm rings from Taehyung’s pocket, interrupting Jungkook’s enthusiastic recounting of an unfortunate mishap at work involving an intern shattering a glass case meant to project some ancient artifact.

“Capitalism is calling to you, little peach,” Taehyung smiles as he disables the alarm. It’s a pained upturn of his lips, unnatural because he knows what’s coming next.

It always hurts first in the ache of Taehyung’s bones, eventually creeping throughout his body until loneliness manifests like a disease inside him. At night, it’s the worst.

Who would have thought that meeting a pretty omega when Taehyung is in such a vulnerable state would cause him to imprint? Taehyung didn’t even know that was possible; it sounded so much like a myth or something ancient that their kind had left behind through evolution.

Yet here he is, craving this pretty boy with dazzling eyes and a smile that makes Taehyung dizzy.

“Maybe tomorrow you can visit me at the museum? To see the exhibit I’m working on?” Jungkook lets go of Taehyung’s hand. It grows cold quickly, and Taehyung tucks it into the pocket of his slacks.

The request feels significant like Jungkook is accepting Taehyung into his space, a decision omegas don’t take lightly. Or maybe Taehyung is assuming something more because of the circumstances. 

“I would love to.”

It’s Taehyung’s honest answer. All he can be is honest when his scent speaks for him, growing rich with excitement at the prospect that this omega wants him to be closer. Taehyung knows that even if this strange bond didn’t exist between them, he’d still want Jungkook just as much.

Taehyung stands when Jungkook does, offering to walk with him to the park’s exit, where Jungkook will walk to the nearby museum, and Taehyung will drive back to his office. He never knows how to end their meetings. They tend to feel incomplete, a steady stream of moments that get cut off, only to join with the next the following day, like scrawled cursive too messy to read.

“Same time tomorrow?” Taehyung asks with his hands shoved in his pockets and his collar popped to protect him from the wind.

“Yes, please,” Jungkook’s smile can’t be dimmed, no matter how dreary the weather is, with gray clouds blotting the sky.

Taehyung ducks his head to nod goodbye, but Jungkook’s hand catches him by the shoulder. He squeezes his eyes shut as Jungkook leans into him.

So carefully that it almost seems like Taehyung imagines it, Jungkook pulls back the collar of Taehyung’s jacket to expose his throat. With a sharp inhale, Jungkook drags his nose along Taehyung’s neck, pausing a bit longer to breathe against Taehyung’s scent gland.

“Oh,” Taehyung shudders, his body feeling just like honey, warm and goopy. Goosebumps prickle his skin as Jungkook’s hot breath mixes with the cool autumn breeze.

“See you tomorrow, Taehyung-ssi,” Jungkook whispers against Taehyung’s skin before pulling away.

There’s a small smile, one that shows bunny teeth and the tip of Jungkook’s tongue poking out, and then he’s walking away, the wind ruffling his shaggy hair.

Taehyung takes a deep breath and tries to ignore the ache in his chest as he watches Jungkook go. 

-

Jungkook is a nail-biter. 

Taehyung watches him bring his pinky finger to his mouth and chew at a hangnail while he hunches over his laptop. He sits with both legs crossed under him, his thick-rimmed glasses pushed up on his nose. They’re at a local coffee shop, spending time together while Jungkook applies for graduate programs in museum studies. It’s daunting, but Taehyung is here to keep him on track.

Allegedly. 

“Sorry,” Jungkook says shyly, a blush forming on his cheeks. 

“For what?” Taehyung lifts his face from looking down at his phone, aimlessly scrolling through Instagram, and ignoring his full email inbox. 

“My eomma gets annoyed with me sitting like this.” 

Taehyung’s lips quirk slightly. The whole idea of finding joy in the simple things in life is an important part of holding onto Taehyung’s sanity. If sitting cross-legged in a chair brings joy, to hell with whoever walks past them in this coffee shop and doesn’t find Jungkook undeniably adorable. 

“This is a judgment-free zone, sweets,” Taehyung says with an exaggerated air of authority. He scoots slightly back to also cross his legs in his chair, accidentally bumping Jungkook in the process. “We sit however we want in this house.” 

“Oh, Tae, this is a coffee shop.” 

Taehyung waves away the correction. “I could buy this coffee shop.” 

With a snort, Jungkook reaches for his drink and smiles around the straw. 

“That’s very sexy of you.” 

Jungkook sets his drink down and returns to working on his graduate school research, but Taehyung can hardly do anything but stare into the void. How freely Jungkook had spoken those words… They swirl around in Taehyung’s head until he can’t think of anything else. 

-

When it grows too cold to take walks in the park, and they’ve run out of new cafes to try, Taehyung and Jungkook begin spending time at Taehyung’s apartment.

Having Jungkook over for the first time should have felt awkward, but it didn’t. They’ve spent enough time getting to know each other that all Taehyung felt was a wave of endearment when Jungkook stood in his doorway for the first time, toes wiggling in his stupid toe socks that Taehyung hates but still somehow finds adorable, eyes looking everywhere but at Taehyung’s face out of embarrassment.

By now, they’ve worked their way up to occasional glances across the room, Taehyung always holding the stare while Jungkook gives up rather quickly. The low chuckle it brings out of Taehyung usually makes Jungkook pout, too cute for his own good.

“So, why are you getting sued?” Jungkook asks one evening as he sorts through a stack of papers on Taehyung’s coffee table.

The two men sit cross-legged at the coffee table in matching pajamas gifted by Namjoon to match his and Jimin’s for the adult sleepover he threw for Jimin’s birthday. Even little Yeontan, who is determined to rip apart one of Jungkook’s socks, got a little sweater to match. Taehyung would have scowled at such a ridiculous gift earlier in the year. Now, he cherishes the soft purple clothing, wearing it more often than even his favorite silk pajama set.

“God,” Taehyung groans. “Woosung, the bastard. He’s suing me, claiming I unlawfully fired him after he was accused of plagiarizing a design for a major project we’re working on out of Daegu.”

Taehyung is distracted as he talks, staring at himself in the forward-facing camera of his phone, trying to use a sparkly pink hair clip Jungkook gave him to pin his bangs back. They keep falling over his forehead and sticking to his clay face mask. 

“If he plagiarized, isn’t he in the wrong?” Jungkook pouts while he takes a sip of red wine.

“One would think.” Taehyung drops his arms in defeat. The hair clip thumps against the fuzzy rug beneath them. “This is the part of owning a company I dislike the most.” 

“Getting sued?” 

Taehyung reaches for his wine – white because he doesn’t like how dry the red is. 

“No,” Taehyung says after a moment of contemplation, “It may sound privileged of me to say, but I hate being backed into a corner where I must make decisions that have such a significant impact on other people’s lives. To fire someone or make changes to the company impacts not only the organization, but also every life that touches it. Partners, children, customers, myself. Ah, I don’t know how to explain it…” 

Jungkook sets his glass down and beckons to Taehyung. 

“Come here.”

It feels nice, Jungkook’s fingers slipping through Taehyung’s hair. Jungkook scoots closer, getting on his knees to kneel in front of Taehyung, brandishing the hair clip. Taehyung takes a deep breath and leans into Jungkook’s touch.

“You have to press down kind of hard, but you’ll hear it click,” Jungkook explains quietly—the hair clip slides into place, securing Taehyung’s bangs.

Jungkook is close enough for Taehyung to feel his breath tickle his skin. He looks up at the concentrated look on Jungkook’s face as he fusses with Taehyung’s hair to keep it out of the way. They both wear clay face masks that would be difficult to wash out of their hair. Even Jungkook’s hair is tied up, his bangs looking like a little sprout atop his head.

“Your job sounds stressful.” Jungkook sits back on his heels and appraises Taehyung’s new hairdo. Taehyung is sure he looks ridiculous, but Jungkook is pleased with what he’s done. 

“It is.” 

“Is that why you went all Big Bad Alpha on everyone?” The question is teasing, but Jungkook’s expression is kind as he gazes at Taehyung, who tilts his head to look at him. 

Has all of this been because of his job? Perhaps. Taehyung hasn’t thought about it since getting to know Jungkook. It seems all he is worried about is getting through each morning so he can reward himself with a visit from Jungkook at lunch and then suffer through the rest of the day, knowing he’ll at least see Jungkook again. 

“Maybe.” 

“You should get a new job.” 

Taehyung laughs, a rough sound pushed up from deep in his chest. 

“You’re cute, peaches,” Taehyung smiles and blames it on the wine.

They can also pretend the wine is why Jungkook’s cheeks grow pink underneath the face mask.

“You’re cute, too, hyung,” Jungkook huffs as though it pains him to admit it, but a smile plays at his lips. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Taehyung doesn’t know where to focus his gaze, sliding from Jungkook’s pretty eyes to his pretty lips, which he wets when he notices Taehyung looking at them.

“Will I need to take it to my grave?” Taehyung asks absentmindedly, his breath shuddering through his lungs. “I’m a bit of a gossip. It comes with old age and boredom.”

“Is getting sued and imprinting on a strange omega not exciting enough for you?” Jungkook teases.

Taehyung licks his lips and meets Jungkook’s eyes. They’re bright and different from how heavy his scent falls on Taehyung.

“You are far from strange. And you could never bore me. I’m quite fond of our talks.”

Jungkook slides his fingers through the hair at the side of Taehyung’s head, letting his nails gently dig into his scalp.

“Is that all that you like? Talking with me?”

Jungkook runs his nails down the back of Taehyung’s neck. It’s fairly innocent; despite how riled up the conversation is making Taehyung, he can tell from Jungkook’s timidness that he doesn’t mean it to be as seductive as it is.

“I like looking at you,” Taehyung is always honest to a fault. He catches Jungkook’s wrist and brings his hand around to hold the side of his face. “I like it when you scent me, too. A lot. It makes the storm inside me settle.”

“Because of the imprinting.”

Taehyung shakes his head. “Because you are lovely, and I have come to enjoy our time together. Immensely.”

“I think I would enjoy it if you kissed me,” Jungkook whispers, so impossibly close. “That’s my secret. You can take it to the grave or shout it from the rooftops, but only if you’d enjoy kissing me, too.” 

“We have clay smeared all over our faces.”

Jungkook huffs, “I don’t care, hyung.”

Taehyung grips the back of Jungkook’s head and pulls him forward as he lifts his face to capture his lips. It’s slow and gentle, nibbling and sucking each other’s bottom lips languidly. The kiss tastes like clay, and makes the dry masks crack around the crease of their mouths and the hollows of their cheeks, but neither man cares.

Taehyung especially doesn’t care when he inhales the smell of slick as Jungkook deepens their kiss with the flick of his tongue against Taehyung’s.

“Jungkook,” Taehyung groans into Jungkook’s mouth. His hands find Jungkook’s waist, so slim that Taehyung can wrap his hands around him in a firm grip that gives him complete control over where Jungkook moves.

With a small whimper, Jungkook pulls away before Taehyung can coax him to sit in his lap.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook breathes heavily as he tries to calm himself down. “I don’t usually, um, do this.”

“Eat clay face masks while you kiss someone?” Taehyung teases, not needing Jungkook to explain. Taehyung rarely becomes intimate with someone so spontaneously, though he has spent hours a day with Jungkook for months. Their presence in each other’s lives is a given at this point.

Besides, Taehyung’s alpha has never yearned for anyone like it yearns for Jungkook.

“It doesn’t taste very good,” Jungkook says with a pout. He stands and holds his hand out for Taehyung to take, hauling him to his feet.

“Did you think clay would?”

Jungkook sticks his tongue out as he follows Taehyung into the bathroom.

“No.”

“Would you like to know what does taste good?”

It’s a trap, and Jungkook knows it, but he falls into it anyway when he rolls his eyes at Taehyung through the bathroom mirror and asks, “What?”

“You.”

An elbow to the rib that makes Taehyung gasp. A splash of water that wets the front of Jungkook’s shirt.

The bathroom becomes a warzone, soap bottles knocked over and drops of water dotting the mirror. Taehyung nearly slips into the bathtub, and Jungkook has to catch him with a fistful of his shirt to yank him up.

“I’m never coming over ever again!” Jungkook yelps with a face streaked by water and clay. He looks like he’s crying, and his tone is petulant, but the bathroom is full of the sweet pheromones of his happiness. “No more time spent with alpha.”

Taehyung freezes where he stands hunched over the bathroom sink, palms holding water he plans to splash on his face to clean himself up. He slowly turns toward Jungkook, who is bright red beneath the green-gray clay muddling his skin.

“I—”

“What did you just call me, Jungkook?”

“Oh my gosh, Tae,” Jungkook groans, throwing his head back to stare at the ceiling instead of dealing with Taehyung’s heavy gaze.

“No, I want to hear you say it again.”

Jungkook shakes his head.

“Oh, my little peach,” Taehyung wipes his hands dry and grabs Jungkook by the wrists, pulling him closer, “You can’t pretend to be shy now.”

“I am shy!”

Jungkook chews the inside of his cheek, and Taehyung wants to chew him.

“Tell me, Jungkook,” Taehyung whispers and tugs on Jungkook’s wrists again, making him stumble forward.

“No.”

“Say it again, Koo.”

“No!”

Taehyung bites his bottom lip to hide a grin as he leans in to nuzzle Jungkook’s neck. His cheek smears clay all over Jungkook’s skin, around his throat, up to the edge of his jaw as Taehyung scents him.

“Jungkook-ah, tell me,” Taehyung whispers against the curve of Jungkook’s ear, “Tell me what you just called me.”

Jungkook shivers in Taehyung’s embrace, the heady smell of his slick making Taehyung’s mouth water.

“Alpha, okay?” Jungkook’s lips quiver, “I called you alpha.”

Taehyung hums against Jungkook’s skin before releasing his wrists and stepping back.

“Good boy.”

More embarrassed than he is scandalized, Jungkook shoves Taehyung into the hallway and slams the bathroom door shut.

“Leave me alone!” he shouts through the door.

“Jungkook-ah, this is my apartment!”

“I don’t care!”

Taehyung’s laughter is drowned out by Jungkook, who turns the bathroom sink’s faucet on all the way. The bathroom is already a mess, and Taehyung enjoys poking at Jungkook’s sensitive spots now that he’s learning what they are. It’s much more fun than answering Yoongi’s emails about getting sued or worrying about his hormone levels every time Dr. Yun schedules him for more bloodwork. 

Taehyung uses the second bathroom to clean himself up and realizes he can’t remember what it was like to be this content with himself before his alpha became so unsettled. He supposes it doesn’t matter. Imprint bonds or not, Taehyung is happy to have Jungkook in his life. 

-

For a while, Jungkook lives with Namjoon and Jimin. According to him, it isn’t ideal, and Taehyung doesn’t blame him for wanting to find his own apartment as soon as possible. Namjoon and Jimin may not be attached to Jimin’s knot all the time. Still, when Namjoon’s heat hits, Taehyung finds himself opening his apartment up for Jungkook beyond their nights of giggling over wine and court summons, sneaking kisses and pretending they hadn’t.

“Please take care of Jungkook; he’s like my child,” Jimin sighs dramatically as he hands over Jungkook’s backpack to Taehyung.

They’re hovering in the entryway to Taehyung’s apartment. Everything important in his life seems to occur in a doorway, always half in and half out. What does that say about Taehyung?

“Why do I feel like I’m getting dropped off at a sleepover by my mom?” Jungkook accuses with a pout that Taehyung can’t help but bark a laugh at.

“This is exactly how Taehyung behaved when I took Yeontan during his rut,” Jimin snickers, “But don’t worry, Jungkookie. I won’t make you stay here for a week and a half.”

Jungkook spins around to stare at Taehyung with wide eyes.

“Your rut lasted a week and a half?”

Taehyung scoffs and crosses his arms against his chest, showing both men his cheek to avoid looking at them.

“It was ten days.”

“Taehyung being on suppressants was a blessing for all the omegas he was with. I can’t imagine what it would be like to get fucked for ten days straight,” Jimin says with a slow shake of his head, really playing up the dramatics of it all.

Jungkook’s incredulous expression never weakens.

“You went through a ten-day rut alone?” he asks, turning to Jimin to get confirmation when Taehyung doesn’t respond.

Just as Jimin opens his mouth, Taehyung cuts in.

“Alright, that’s enough of sharing my private information; get out,” Taehyung uncrosses his arms and shoves Jimin toward the door. “I’m sure your omega is waiting for you, goodbye.”

Jimin blows Jungkook a few last kisses before Taehyung shuts the door in his face. He would feel bad for his aggressive behavior, if it weren’t for the cackle he gets in response.

“I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have reacted like that,” Jungkook says softly. He reaches for Taehyung’s hand, passing up his fingers to rub their wrists together instead. “Can we order food? Jimin treats me like a baby but doesn’t take care of me, and now I’m hungry.”

Driven by the desire to provide for the pretty omega staying with him for the next few days, Taehyung takes Jungkook’s stuff to the guest bedroom, and then the two of them hang out at the kitchen table, chairs scooted together to look at their food options to order.

“I’m not upset about your questions, little peach,” Taehyung finally responds to Jungkook’s apology as he scrolls through the food options on his phone. “I’m just… not accustomed to discussing these things. At all.”

“I understand. It can be awkward.” Jungkook places a hand on Taehyung’s, which has curled into a fist. “You can always talk to me if you ever need someone to vent to.”

“Thank you, Koo,” Taehyung says softly, suddenly feeling as though the tables have turned, and now he is the shy one.

“You’re welcome, alpha.”

Taehyung bites his bottom lip and tries to hold in the whine that wants to slip from his lips at hearing that word come from Jungkook’s lips. Once the term slipped out of Jungkook the first time, he never stopped using it.

Part of Taehyung wonders if it’s just a little inside joke, but then he smells how Jungkook’s scent sweetens when he says it, and it has Taehyung’s insides turning into jelly.

Finally ordering food, Taehyung and Jungkook sit on the couch while they eat some cheap but tasty bulgogi from a local restaurant nearby and gossip about Taehyung’s latest work drama with the lawsuit and Yoongi’s hatred of all the extra paperwork involved in it. As always, the conversation flows so smoothly that Taehyung realizes he could let the rest of the world fly by and not miss anything at all, if only he could stay with Jungkook, snuggled on the couch in comfy clothes and with full bellies.

“You drew all these sketches?” Jungkook suddenly asks, eyeing the framed charcoal sketches hanging on the walls and a few smaller ones on the end tables in Taehyung’s living room. Some of them are of building designs Taehyung never did anything with. Others are portraits of his friends and landscapes.

“Ah, yes. Did you not notice them before?”

Jungkook gives Taehyung a small shove. “I did! I just never asked.” He pauses for a moment to look at them. “My Tae is very creative.”

Jungkook sets down his empty takeout container and scoots closer to Taehyung on the couch. “Tell me more things I don’t know about you.”

“Aish, you knew I was creative. I have a graduate degree in architecture, Koo. I am the CEO of a—”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean you’re creative!”

“Fine.” Taehyung rolls his eyes with a small smile, “I will give into you, little peach.”

“So, what else?”

“You already know the important stuff. Everything else can just be a fun surprise.”

“Well, then, I have a lot to look forward to, little alpha,” Jungkook says softly.

“Ah, don’t you dare!” Taehyung points at Jungkook.

“Big alpha,” Jungkook corrects with a grin that is nothing short of evil, making Taehyung’s stomach flip. But then his grin morphs into a large yawn, and Taehyung remembers it’s rather late.

“Let’s get you to bed, yeah?” Taehyung ruffles Jungkook’s hair and gestures down the hall. “If you need anything, come wake me up. I’m a heavy sleeper, so just shake me.”

“Or jump on you?”

Taehyung gives Jungkook a stern look. “Perhaps be a doll, and don’t break me.”

“No promises, alpha,” Jungkook says with a wink as he grabs his phone and heads down the hall.

-

On the third night of staying with Taehyung during Namjoon’s heat, Jungkook wakes Taehyung up.

He’s gentle when he does it, crawling over to Taehyung’s side of the bed and slipping under the covers. At first, Taehyung doesn’t notice. He smells Jungkook’s scent, but it’s not the first time he’s dreamt about being surrounded by peaches.

It isn’t until he feels soft touches on his face that Taehyung wakes up, his eyes half-closed and just slightly making out Jungkook’s face in the pale moonlight shining in slits through the slotted window blinds.

“Peaches? Taehyung mumbles, forcing himself onto his elbows to get a better look at Jungkook. “Are you okay?”

Jungkook shakes his head and snuggles into Taehyung’s pillow.

“Had a bad dream.”

“Mmm,” Taehyung runs his hand over his face, trying to wake himself up enough to give the shivering omega comfort. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Another head shake.

“What would you like, Koo? Want to sleep here with me?”

Jungkook snuggles further into the blankets. He’s so cute, all wrapped up, big eyes shining in the moonlight as he looks up at Taehyung. How could Taehyung deny that face?

“The bed isn’t very big.”

“We have room,” Jungkook says sleepily. “So come here.” 

Jungkook flops his arm onto the space beside him on the bed. By now, he’s barely awake. 

“You think so?” At this point, Taehyung is only teasing him, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize it.

“Mhmm…” Jungkook’s head falls to one side and his lips pout. He’s quick to fall asleep, hopefully, comforted by Taehyung’s relaxing pheromones he released when he woke up enough to know what was happening.

Taehyung watches Jungkook for a moment, unable to take his eyes off his relaxed face and how his chest rises and falls. He’s being such a fucking creep. 

Lying back down, Taehyung and Jungkook face each other. In his sleep, Jungkook scoots closer and throws his arm around Taehyung’s hip, drawing him against his chest. It’s sweet, and Taehyung quickly relaxes into Jungkook’s embrace, not at all surprised that he’s a cuddler.

Fitting, since Taehyung is, too.

In the morning, Taehyung wakes up with Jungkook’s body facing away from him, though his arm is curled around his waist, holding Jungkook tightly against his chest. He relishes in the soft sound of Jungkook’s exhale, his breath still smelling like the mint of his toothpaste.

How can Taehyung survive Jungkook staying in his apartment for much longer? He’s sure to go insane, selfishly never wanting Jungkook to leave.

In the quiet stillness, Taehyung admires Jungkook’s soft, sleepy sounds and thinks about how deeply endeared he is by this little omega, even if their relationship is unconventional and, at times, confusing. All he can hope is that he brings Jungkook the same kind of love he feels from his connection with Jungkook.

Because it is love, imprint bond or not. Taehyung knows it’s quick, but he feels it. Perhaps he’s not ready to say it, but it’s there, sitting in his chest, waiting. All he can hope is that Jungkook won’t shatter it. There’s no use worrying about it now.

What he should be worried about is the press of Jungkook’s body against his, and the morning wood Taehyung is sporting — something he hasn’t experienced in at least two decades.

Pushing back against Taehyung, Jungkook lets out a low groan that nearly stops Taehyung’s heart.

“Peach?” Taehyung whispers, “Jungkookie?”

“Alpha,” Jungkook murmurs, twisting around in Taehyung’s embrace until he has his face snuggled in the hollow of Taehyung’s throat. “Are you in your rut?”

“W-what? No!” Taehyung sputters, leaning away from Jungkook in an attempt to look at him. “Why do you think that?”

“Because of this.”

Jungkook rolls his hips against Taehyung, making Taehyung gasp quietly. He squeezes his hold on Jungkook, unsure how to react.

“I… Jungkook, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Jungkook hides his face in Taehyung’s shoulder, embarrassment rolling off him in waves.

“It’s okay; we can go back to sleep,” Jungkook mumbles against Taehyung’s skin, giving the two of them permission to ignore Taehyung’s semi-hard cock pressed against Jungkook’s thigh.

Except now, Taehyung can’t go back to sleep because he can smell the sweetness of Jungkook’s slick. It gets stronger the longer they lie there as if Jungkook is also thinking about how Taehyung can smell his slick. Maybe he’s thinking about how he can smell Taehyung’s arousal, his heady alpha pheromones cloaking the room, unaltered by suppressants.

Taehyung tries to ignore it, but he can feel Jungkook’s fluttery breath against his throat, and when Jungkook shifts slightly, his own hard cock brushes against Taehyung’s thigh. The sensation causes a fire to pool low in Taehyung’s abdomen, and his cock twitches against the press of Jungkook’s body.

“Alpha…” Jungkook whispers as Taehyung slowly glides his hand down Jungkook’s back and around to rest on his hip.

“Hmm?”

Taehyung slides his hand beneath Jungkook’s shirt so he can hold onto his hip. Jungkook squeezes the front of Taehyung’s shirt in his fist, pulling himself closer to Taehyung’s chest.

Jungkook exhales shakily, and Taehyung can feel goosebumps rise along his skin. Taehyung runs his hand down Jungkook’s hip until he reaches his thigh. Grabbing the back of Jungkook’s knee, he hooks Jungkook’s leg over his waist, bringing their cocks to grind against each other.

“Oh, fuck,” Jungkook moans against the base of Taehyung’s throat, where he still has his face hidden.

“Peach,” Taehyung murmurs. He brings his hand to Jungkook’s chin to lift his head up and away from his chest.

Their bodies burn as they meet each other’s gaze. Taehyung watches Jungkook with a sleepy look in his eyes that shine with sparks of desire in them.

Leaning forward, he silently presses his lips against Jungkook’s.

Taehyung traces Jungkook’s lips with the tip of his tongue, coaxing them open to slip his tongue inside his mouth. Their tongues roll over each other lazily, but it’s a slow passion Taehyung can feel building as the kiss goes on longer. Jungkook whimpers and trembles, getting louder when Taehyung pulls back slightly to suck Jungkook’s bottom lip into his mouth. He drags his teeth over it before finally letting it go with a wet pop that leaves Jungkook gasping for air.

“If you want me to stop, you need to tell me,” Taehyung speaks hoarsely against Jungkook’s lips.

“Please don’t,” Jungkook whines, throwing his head back when Taehyung presses a hot kiss against his throat and sucks the skin above his scent gland.

Rolling his hips, Taehyung slips Jungkook’s leg off his waist and hooks his fingers around the waistband of his pajama pants, swiftly pulling them down along with his briefs and tossing them onto the floor.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so wet,” Taehyung groans as he dips his fingers between Jungkook’s cheeks. When he presses his middle finger against Jungkook’s rim, he can feel more slick drip out.

“Alpha, please,” Jungkook pushes back against Taehyung’s fingers when he rubs slow circles around his rim. “Taehyung.”

“Hmm? What do you need, baby?” Taehyung smears slick over Jungkook’s asscheeks, giving each a light tap and watching the slick drip from his fingers. “ Fuck, you’re leaking all over the place.”

“Please don’t make me say it,” Jungkook breathes, his desire so desperate in his voice and how he reacts to Taehyung’s teasing but unable to utter precisely what he wants.

Taehyung decides to have mercy on Jungkook after toying with his wet hole and slips two long fingers inside of him.

Jungkook lets out a low groan, his teeth grazing Taehyung’s collarbones like he wants to bite. 

“I want you to say it,” Taehyung whispers in Jungkook’s ear as fucks his fingers into him. His slick is thick and slippery, making obscene squelching sounds as Taehyung massages his walls, looking for the spot that will have Jungkook crying in his arms.

“Please,” Jungkook wraps his arms around Taehyung’s neck and keeps one leg hooked around Taehyung’s waist to open himself up.  

Taehyung uses his free hand to cradle Jungkook’s face, forcing Jungkook to look him in the eyes as he whimpers.

“Come on, baby, say it.”

“Fuck me, alpha. Please.”

“Yeah? You want my knot, little peach?”

Jungkook nods. “I have, for so long, Tae. Ever since I first saw you, I always wanted you to be my alpha.”

Taehyung groans as he flips them over, tossing Jungkook onto his back. He can’t handle the emotional tsunami that confession will cause inside him. He can already feel his alpha instincts calling him to bite Jungkook. To claim him and mate him. To…

“Fuck, gonna breed you, Koo,” Taehyung growls against Jungkook’s throat, caging Jungkook in against the mattress. 

Taehyung uses his slicked-up hand to squeeze Jungkook’s neglected cock, already shiny from dribbling precum. Taehyung jerks Jungkook’s cock hard and fast, just a quick few pumps that have Jungkook writhing underneath him. 

“Please, alpha. Fill me up with your pups,” Jungkook's nearly there, and Taehyung hasn’t even done anything but finger him.

“Shit,” Taehyung takes a deep breath and tries to calm down. 

He already feels like he could pop a knot right now, and he’s not even naked. Not that it would really matter; Jungkook is leaking so much that Taehyung’s shorts are soaked just from grinding against him.

Jungkook grabs at Taehyung’s clothes as he rushes out of them, tossing them along with the rest onto the floor. It definitely isn’t his rut, but it’s as though Taehyung has tunnel vision; the only thing on his mind is making his omega feel good.

“You’re mine,” Taehyung grunts as he drags his cock between Jungkook’s asscheeks, holding Jungkook open on his back because he wants to see his pretty face when he knots him.

“Your omega,” Jungkook says softly, reaching out to dance his fingers along Taehyung’s jaw as Taehyung grinds against him. “Make me your omega, hyung.”

Jungkook digs his nails into Taehyung’s forearms when he thrusts his cock inside him in one quick motion. He’s so warm and wet, sucking Taehyung’s cock in and wrapping around him so perfectly that Taehyung honestly feels like crying. 

“Oh god,” Jungkook tugs at Taehyung, to the point that he draws blood along his forearms.

“Keep them up, baby,” Taehyung grabs Jungkook’s hands to bring them to the backs of his thighs to hold onto Jungkook’s waist. “You can do that for me, right? Be a good omega for your alpha.”

“Y-yes, I’ll be good. Knot me, hyung.” 

Jungkook’s slick makes the slide so easy that Taehyung immediately begins fucking into him as hard and as fast as he can, keeping his legs pressed to his chest. He wants to laugh, not to tease Jungkook, but in disbelief at how lucky of an alpha he is to have this omega wailing for his knot, so pretty and perfect. It goes beyond sex, beyond this animalistic draw that Taehyung has toward him. 

“Jungkook,” Taehyung leans forward, practically bending Jungkook in half, to capture his lips. The kiss is all spit and teeth, but neither of them care. “Jungkook, I love you.” 

“Tae,” Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut as Taehyung’s knot swells and catches on his swollen rim. 

“Shh, it’s okay, you don’t have to say it,” Taehyung groans against Jungkook’s throat. He wants to bite him, but he knows he can’t. “Just, just have to say it, okay? I never thought… fuck .” 

Taehyung leans back on his heels and uses his grip on Jungkook’s waist to slam him down on his cock as he thrusts into him. Jungkook has to press his hand against the bedframe to stop himself from getting pushed into the wall from every thrust. 

“Gonna cum,” Taehyung hisses through gritted teeth. “Fuck, Jungkook, gonna–” 

Taehyung thrusts one last time, forcing his knot past Jungkook’s rim. The pressure makes Jungkook immediately cum, ropes of white spurting across his abdomen as he cries out Taehyung’s name, singing him little chants of, “fuck, fuck, y-yes alpha, fill me up,” filth that only makes Taehyung cum even more, his cock pulsing in time with the erratic beat of his heart. 

Jungkook’s solid arms squeezing his shoulders bring Taehyung down until his weight is fully on Jungkook, forcing him to sink into the mattress. 

“Don’t wanna crush you,” Taehyung murmurs, but Jungkook squeezes him tighter. 

“I’m okay,” he says, his voice shaky and watery. “I love you, too, Tae.” 

“You don’t have to say it. I know we did all of this so wrong, and I know I need to learn how to listen to my–” 

“Don’t say that,” Jungkook whispers against Taehyung’s ear as he combs through his hair, scratching at his scalp. “I think you’re listening to your alpha just fine.” 

“Thank you,” Taehyung turns to kiss Jungkook’s swollen, bitten lips. He looks pretty, all fucked out and full of love. Taehyung supposes it’s okay for those two things to be intertwined, too. 

-

“There’s still so much I need to learn about myself,” Taehyung admits sheepishly, ignoring Dr. Yun’s gaze. 

“Knowing is half the battle, right?” Dr. Yun pats Taehyung on the knee. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Taehyung. You’re young; you have plenty of time to learn what you like and what you don’t, and how you wish to move through the world as an alpha. It’s good that you’re even having this conversation with me.” 

Taehyung nods and waits patiently as Dr. Yun finishes taking notes. His bloodwork came back, and his hormone levels have stabilized. 

Taehyung could have told them that without getting a needle in his arm. He looks over at the boy with sparkling eyes sitting off to the side of the examination room, his hands clasped between his thighs and a small smile dancing on his lips. 

“I have someone to help me through it,” Taehyung responds to Dr. Yun after a moment. “I’m not afraid anymore.”