Chapter Text

📚 Character Guide

🌙 Main Couple

Dr. Jungkook Jeon (Alpha, 33)

• Appearance: 181 cm, muscular, broad build, thick black hair just over his forehead, large doe eyes, bunny smile.

• Personality: Outwardly cold, perfectionist, brilliant heart surgeon. Haunted by guilt. Protective, deeply loyal.

Dr. Taehyung Kim (Omega, 24)

• Appearance: 176 cm, slim build, tanned skin, curly brown hair, boxy smile, regal features, long legs, soft tummy and curvy butt.

• Personality: Warm, sweet, stubborn, witty. Driven to be a heart surgeon. Carries hidden pain from his father’s rejection.

🐺 Pack & Family

Dr. Jimin Park (Beta, 26)

• Appearance: 174 cm, petite yet muscular, plump lips, charming eye-smile.

• Role: Taehyung’s lifelong best friend and anchor. Third-year general surgery resident. Loyal, caring, slightly dramatic.

Dr. Yoongi Min (Omega, 33)

• Appearance: 174 cm, slim, gummy smile, soft presence.

• Role: Consultant pediatric surgeon. Jungkook’s best friend since high school. Grounded, wise, deeply caring for Taehyung. Partners with Jimin

Dr. Namjoon Kim (Alpha, 33)

• Appearance: 181 cm, tall and broad, dimples, sharp eyes.

• Role: Chief of general surgery. Kind, firm, natural leader. Supports Taehyung and Jungkook equally. Married to Jin.

Dr. Jin Kim (Omega, 35)

• Appearance: 179 cm, broad shoulders, plump lips, “worldwide handsome.”

• Role: Trauma surgeon. Taehyung’s estranged half-brother, protective once reunited. Funny, smart, fiercely loving. Married to Namjoon.

Hoseok Jung (Alpha, 29)

• Appearance: 177 cm, athletic, sharp nose, high cheekbones, bright smile.

• Role: ER nurse, the glue of the group. Brings humor and light into dark places. Loyal friend to all.

Chapter Text

Chapter One – The Cold

The smell of antiseptic always clung to the walls of Seoul National University Hospital. It seeped into the scrubs, into the skin, into the bones of those who worked here long enough to forget what clean air outside even smelled like. To most, it was suffocating. To Jungkook Jeon, it was silence. Control.

He stood at the head of the operating table, masked, gloved, every move precise. The surgical light cast a sharp halo over the patient’s open chest. The rhythmic beeping of the heart-lung machine replaced the fragile pulse of the man on the table.

“Clamp,” Jungkook said, voice low, unyielding.

The nurse obeyed instantly, placing the tool into his waiting hand. His motions were smooth, flawless, like choreography he had practiced a thousand times over. Around him, the operating team held their breaths, watching the thirty-three-year-old consultant guide the operation with a steadiness that bordered on inhuman.

Because it was.

Beneath the mask of surgical skill, beneath the human shape of broad shoulders and black hair falling just above his brows, lived the Alpha wolf. His kind healed faster, smelled sharper, sensed weakness in the air like iron on their tongue. To Jungkook, the faint traces of his team’s nerves were as real as the incision beneath his fingers.

“Pulse stabilizing,” the anesthesiologist murmured.

Of course it was. Jungkook’s surgeries didn’t fail. They couldn’t.

He finished the last delicate suture, his hands steady even as a faint tremor coiled through his chest. It was always there—ghost pain, memory rather than injury. The weight of headlights cutting through the dark, the sound of metal collapsing, his father’s last breath. He never let it surface. Not here. Not ever.

“Close him up,” Jungkook ordered, stepping back from the table. His eyes were as sharp as the scalpel he had set aside, black irises gleaming faintly under the light. Cold. Detached. Unforgiving.

The residents standing at the side of the room avoided his gaze. Whispers of admiration—and fear—always followed him. Seoul’s finest heart surgeon. Brilliant. Ruthless. An Alpha to the bone.

Jungkook stripped off his gloves, tugged the mask from his face, and left the operating room without another word. The staff bowed slightly as he passed. None dared to stop him.

In the corridor, the scent of antiseptic faded beneath something else: coffee, adrenaline, exhaustion. And something he ignored—the faint, sweet trace of cinnamon and rain drifting from somewhere nearby. A scent that did not belong to him.

His wolf stirred uneasily, but Jungkook shoved it down. He didn’t have time for distractions. He had patients waiting, surgeries lined up, and no space in his life for weakness.

Least of all the kind that smelled like temptation.

Chapter Text

Chapter Two – The Warm

Taehyung Kim arrived before dawn, the gray light of Seoul tucked like a folded letter between the hospital towers. His breath fogged in the cool air as sliding doors opened to the lobby’s sterile glow. He paused at the threshold—just long enough to press two fingers to the inside of his wrist where his pulse thudded, steady and bright.

First day.

The badge around his neck felt heavier than it should have: KIM, TAEHYUNG. Resident Physician. He traced the etched letters with his thumb and exhaled. The familiar ache tugged behind his ribs—worry, shaped exactly like a small apartment across the river where his grandmother slept in a rented hospital bed, a machine gently measuring her breaths. He had left a thermos of porridge and a note on the counter for the daytime nurse. He had kissed her brow without waking her. He had promised—silently, helplessly—to make today count.

The hospital smelled of antiseptic and laundry steam and coffee that had been sitting for an hour too long. Beneath it threaded a web of scents only wolves felt: the sharp loam of alphas, the even breath of betas, the soft warmth of omegas. He’d taken care to keep his own scent quiet—fresh cotton and something faintly sweet, like cinnamon bark steeped in milk—but it never fully vanished. It had a way of tipping the world toward him, of making people soften their voices, of drawing concern he didn’t have time to accept.

He did what he always did with feelings he couldn’t afford: he straightened his coat.

“Look at you,” Jimin said, appearing at his side with a grin as bright as the coffee he thrust into Taehyung’s hand. “First-year glow.”

Taehyung laughed, the sound untangling his shoulders. “Is that what this nausea is? Glow?”

“Absolutely. It’s the radiance of impending sleep deprivation.” Jimin’s eyes curved. He bumped shoulders as they joined the thin trickle of staff toward the elevators. “Rounds in twenty. You ready?”

“Yes.” Taehyung took a sip. Bitter, perfect. “I met my attending by reputation at least eighty times last night. He can’t be as terrifying as Wikipedia makes him.”

Jimin hummed. “Define terrifying.”

“That bad?”

“Jeon Jungkook is… precise,” Jimin said carefully. “He can be harsh. He’s fair, though. The kind that will teach you a lot and also make you question every life choice you’ve ever made.”

They stepped into an elevator warmed by bodies and steam. Taehyung’s pulse hopped as an unfamiliar scent cut through the coffee and metal—the charged, clean edge of rain on rock, cedar after a storm. It brushed the inside of his throat, startled his lungs into a deeper breath. Alpha. Near.

He looked up just as the elevator doors opened on the surgical floor and a tall man stepped in, black hair falling just above his brows, eyes flat as onyx under the fluorescent lights. The air shifted around him in a way Taehyung felt more than saw—the way packs stilled for a commanding presence, the way nurses unconsciously made space.

Jeon Jungkook didn’t look at anyone. He didn’t need to.

Jimin’s mouth flashed a warning line. Taehyung blinked down at his coffee as the alpha surgeon stood at the front of the elevator and the doors closed again. That rain-and-cedar scent threaded like a drawn bowstring through the cramped space. It set some old, simple part of Taehyung’s body on alert—recognition, not fear—and he clamped his jaw until the urge to breathe it in passed.

On the seventh floor, Jungkook stepped out without a backward glance. Taehyung realized he had been holding himself very straight. Jimin’s elbow nudged his ribs.

“Breathe.”

“I am.”

“Uh-huh.”

They followed the current to the cardiac wing. The incoming residents were corralled at the nurses’ station by a bright smile and a clipboard. “If you’re looking for chaos, you found it,” said a man with a heart-shaped grin and a tidy sweep of ash-brown hair. His badge read JUNG, HOSEOK – RN. “Welcome, brand-new babies. I’m Hoseok. Please don’t pass out on my linoleum.”

“Hi, Hobi,” Jimin sang, already leaning over the counter to accept a stack of charts. “Be gentle with us.”

“I’m only gentle with the innocent,” Hoseok replied, eyes twinkling as he slid a folded map of the floor toward Taehyung. “Which means not you, Jimin. Taehyung, right? We’ve been waiting for you on cards. The grapevine says you have hands like still water.”

“My hands are extremely average,” Taehyung said, warmth climbing his face.

“Average is what keeps hearts beating,” Hoseok said. “Now—pre-rounds with Dr. Jeon begin in five minutes. He’ll expect you to know every patient’s ejection fraction and yesterday’s labs.” He flashed a sympathetic look. “If you faint, faint toward me. I’m very good at catches.”

Jimin leaned close as they walked the corridor. “He flirts with everyone. Don’t panic.”

Taehyung wasn’t panicking. He was cataloging. He’d always been good at that: collecting fragments—a tremble in a voice, the way a spouse’s hand lingered on a bedrail—and arranging them until a pattern clicked. It was how he survived everything that didn’t make sense.

They stopped at the first door. A whiteboard carried a name and a bed number and the kind of hope people wrote in block letters. Dr. Jeon waited at the foot of the bed with a tablet, spine straight, profile carved clean. Up close, Taehyung saw the stillness in him wasn’t emptiness—it was pressure contained. Like a held breath.

“Lee, Sung-joon,” Jungkook said without looking up. “Post-op day two, mitral valve repair. Who’s presenting?”

“Kim Taehyung, first-year,” Jimin said promptly. “Rotating to cards.”

Jungkook’s gaze lifted. It held on Taehyung for a second longer than it needed to. Taehyung had the absurd impression of being measured—height, weight, angle of resolve—then filed as insufficient data.

“Proceed,” Jungkook said.

Taehyung drew a breath he hoped wasn’t audible. “Mr. Lee is sixty-one, post-op day two after a minimally invasive mitral valve repair for severe regurgitation secondary to prolapse. He’s off pressors, chest tubes are draining serosanguinous, no air leak. Overnight, he had brief hypotension resolved with fluids. This morning his vitals are stable, pain is controlled on PCA. Telemetry shows normal sinus rhythm. Latest echo shows improved leaflet coaptation, EF is fifty-five percent.”

Jungkook’s tablet clicked softly. “Labs?”

“Sodium one-thirty-eight, potassium four point three, creatinine zero point nine. Hemoglobin down to ten, expected post-op drop. White count nine point eight.”

“Exam?”

“Lungs clear at bases, small pleural rub on the left. Incisions clean, minimal drainage. No lower extremity edema.”

“Plan?”

“Early mobilization, incentive spirometry, step down to oral analgesia as tolerated. If he maintains, we can consider transfer to step-down tomorrow.”

Silence fell, quick and tight. Jungkook’s eyes were unreadable. “You missed one detail. He coughed overnight and had a brief desaturation to eighty-nine percent. You should anticipate the possibility of atelectasis or early effusion, particularly with a left pleural rub and reduced expansion after thoracotomy. Add a chest X-ray to your morning labs, and don’t promise step-down until you’ve seen it.”

Heat crept up Taehyung’s neck. “Yes, doctor.”

“Don’t be careless.” It wasn’t a reprimand so much as a line in the sand. Jungkook moved on, and the group shifted with him like a tide.

At the next bed, an elderly woman dozed, gray hair spread like spilled milk across the pillow. A thin man held her hand and stared at the floor as if it would split without his vigilance. Hoseok stood at the monitors, jotted a note, then glanced toward Taehyung with an encouraging little tilt of his chin.

Taehyung stepped close enough to make his voice a private thing. “Mr. Park? I’m Dr. Kim, one of the residents with the cardiac team. I know this is scary. If you have questions, I can go over the plan with you.”

The man looked up, eyes watery but steady. “She’s so small,” he whispered. “She was never small to me. And now—”

“Now we make her as big as she feels again,” Taehyung said softly. “We’ll sit her up after lunch and get her moving. It’ll help her lungs wake up.”

A moment later, Jungkook’s shadow cut across the bed. Taehyung felt that charged scent again—rain over pine—and forced himself not to react.

“Dr. Kim,” Jungkook said. “Family discussions after rounds, not during.”

Taehyung straightened. “He was worried. It took fifteen seconds.”

“Fifteen seconds repeat a hundred times and you lose an hour.” Jungkook’s gaze flicked to the patient, softened so quickly Taehyung could have doubted it if he hadn’t been watching for it. “Mr. Park, we’ll answer your questions in thirty minutes. Nurse Jung will bring you water.”

Hoseok nodded, already moving. Jungkook pivoted, and the team flowed to the next room like a school of fish tight around a shark. Taehyung kept pace, teeth set against the urge to turn and reassure the husband anyway.

The rest of rounds blurred into a cadence: present, be corrected, keep up. When he got it right, Jungkook said nothing. When he missed a detail, the correction was a precise incision—bloodless, exact. Taehyung could feel the weight of the alpha’s attention, felt the way his own wolf wanted to look down, to bare the throat and yield to structure. He refused it—gently, stubbornly. Yielding was not the same as learning.

By the time they reached the conference room, his coffee had cooled into something medicinal. Jimin slumped into a chair beside him with a theatrical groan. “Survived. Barely.”

“You love the drama,” Hoseok said from the doorway, popping his head in. “Dr. Jeon, you have two consults waiting. Aortic dissection in the ED and a pediatric transfer inbound for valve evaluation.”

“I’ll take the dissection,” Jungkook said without missing the turn of a page. “Page Cardiology for the transfer. Dr. Kim.”

Taehyung’s pen paused. “Yes?”

“You’re with me.”

A stuttering beat thudded through his chest. Jimin’s foot tapped his ankle under the table in silent, wicked glee. Taehyung ignored him and stood. He smoothed his coat again, not for the first time that morning, and followed Jungkook into the corridor.

The elevator ride down to the emergency department was a study in silence. Jungkook’s presence filled it without effort. Taehyung watched the numbers flicker and tried to pretend the smell of wet cedar didn’t make it easier to breathe.

“Why cardiac surgery?” Jungkook asked, eyes on the closed doors.

Taehyung blinked. Of all the questions he’d prepared for, that wasn’t on the list. “Because it matters.”

“Everything matters,” Jungkook said.

“Because it mattered to me,” Taehyung amended, and kept his voice even. “My grandmother has been in and out of the hospital since I was a teenager. Heart failure. Chronic decompensations. I learned to read echocardiograms to translate for her. The first time I saw a repaired valve moving on a screen—how something broken could be made to move again—I thought, I want to do that.”

The doors slid open. The ED greeted them with sound and motion, a kind of focused chaos layered over the metallic tang of blood and adrenaline. Jungkook didn’t step out at once. For a fraction of a second, he turned just enough that Taehyung caught the side of his profile, the flat calm in his eyes, the razor of something behind it.

“You think wanting is enough?”

“No,” Taehyung said. The truth felt simple. “But it’s a start.”

Something shifted at the corner of Jungkook’s mouth—too brief to be a smile. He stepped into the storm. Taehyung followed.

They reached Bed Twelve where a middle-aged man lay pale and sweating, his chest clutched in both hands, a young woman—his daughter, by the matching jawline—braced at his side. The monitor scrawled panic in green light. Hoseok was already there, efficient and bright, hair pushed off his forehead. He glanced up, relief flashing across his face.

“Fifty-eight-year-old male, tearing chest pain to the back, hypotensive, unequal pulses,” Hoseok rattled off. “CT pending but this smells like a Type A dissection.”

“Smell is not a diagnostic modality,” Jungkook said dryly, stethoscope already at the man’s chest.

Hoseok’s mouth tipped. “And yet I am never wrong.”

“Dad?” the daughter whispered, hand so tight on the bedrail her knuckles blanched. “Please—”

Taehyung stepped into her line of sight and pitched his voice low and steady. “We’re moving fast. We know what to do.”

Jungkook’s orders cut across the space—perfusionist paged, blood ready, CT priority. Taehyung translated them into motion, into signatures, into a hand on the daughter’s shoulder long enough to turn panic into something she could breathe through.

As transport wheeled the patient toward imaging, Jungkook fell into step beside Taehyung. “Your job is not to comfort,” he said, not unkindly.

“My job is to keep people moving in the direction we need,” Taehyung countered. “Sometimes the fastest way to do that is to make sure they can hear you.”

Jungkook didn’t answer. But when the CT confirmed the tear and the world snapped into the hard light of an emergency sternotomy, he glanced once toward Taehyung as if measuring the distance between them again.

Back upstairs, scrubbed and masked and standing at the top of the room he’d only watched from the periphery, Taehyung felt sweat bead under his cap. He wasn’t at the table. Of course he wasn’t. First years were eyes and hands, not instruments. But as the saw sang and the chest opened and the room pushed its collective breath into the rails, he found himself watching the surgeon’s hands.

There was nothing hesitant in Jungkook. No wasted motion. If fear existed in him, it was harnessed into something with a purpose. Taehyung realized, with a strange pang, that this was what steadiness looked like when it was carved out of loss.

The repair was ugly-involved and fast. Hours folded into minutes. When the final suture cinched down and pressure climbed where it needed to, a sensation loosened across the room, like a wind snapping a sail taut instead of tearing it.

“Close,” Jungkook said. “Dr. Kim.”

Taehyung startled. “Yes?”

“Dictate the note. Clear, complete. If you leave out anything I needed to know later, you’ll write it again after rounds.”

“Yes, doctor.”

Jungkook stripped off his gloves. He paused, barely, as if listening to something only he could hear. The rain-and-cedar scent deepened, a fresh storm rolling through an open window. “And Dr. Kim,” he added without looking up. “Save your sympathy for the chart. Your patient needs a surgeon, not a lullaby.”

Taehyung swallowed his sting and nodded. “Understood.”

Outside the OR, he leaned against cool tile for a count of five, let the sting dissolve into breath. Jimin found him there, a smear of ink across his cheekbone, eyes soft.

“You didn’t cry,” Jimin said, impressed.

“It was an option?” Taehyung huffed, and let his head tip to the wall. “He’s not wrong. I should’ve ordered the chest X-ray.”

“You’re allowed to learn.” Jimin bumped their shoulders again. “Also, he may sound like a buzzsaw, but you did fine. Hoseok said so. And Hobi is never wrong.”

Hoseok materialized as if conjured, tossing them each a protein bar. “Consensus achieved,” he announced. “Welcome to day one, Taehyung. You have twelve minutes to eat before the world falls apart again.”

“Thank you,” Taehyung said, tearing open the wrapper. He took a bite and let the peanut butter and sugar settle his stomach. “Where’s Dr. Min today?”

“Peds OR,” Hoseok said. “He’ll be up here later to steal our snacks and charm the interns. Yoongi is a menace and I say that with love.”

Taehyung smiled, thinking of the pediatric consultant with the quiet voice and the gummy smile he’d met briefly during orientation. Yoongi had looked at him the way some people looked at stray cats—like he wasn’t fooled for a second by the bristling or the aloofness. Like he knew the shape of hunger.

“Hey,” Jimin said, gentler now. “How’s Halmeoni?”

Taehyung’s throat went tight. “Good days and bad days.”

“We’ll make more good ones,” Jimin promised. “You will.”

Taehyung nodded, then pushed off the wall. The world would keep moving. He would, too.

When he sat down to dictate the operative note, he pictured Jungkook’s hands moving through a chest cavity like they were mapping a coastline he knew by heart. He pictured the daughter’s face when he told her the repair had gone well. He pictured the white-haired woman on the ward and the husband’s grip loosening on the bedrail.

He spoke each detail into the mic, carefully, completely. When he finished, he replaced the handset and looked up at the window. Seoul leaned into afternoon, sun breaking through smog like mercy.

At the end of the day, he found Jungkook by the board, scanning the schedule as if it might change its mind under the weight of his attention. Taehyung stepped forward before he could talk himself out of it.

“Dr. Jeon.”

Jungkook glanced over.

“I ordered the chest X-ray on Mr. Lee. Small left effusion, atelectasis at the base. I added diuresis and increased his incentive spirometry. We’ll reassess in the morning.”

Jungkook studied him the way he studied films—angles, densities, how the light passed through. “Good,” he said finally.

It wasn’t praise. It was acknowledgement. It landed under Taehyung’s skin with more force than it should have.

“And Dr. Kim,” Jungkook added as Taehyung turned to go.

“Yes?”

“Your plan in the ED—keeping the daughter steady—was efficient.” A beat. “Do it again.”

The words were stripped of warmth, but something in them still warmed. Taehyung gave a short nod. “Of course.”

He walked away before he could smile. The scent of rain and cedar trailed him down the hall, faint as weather in a closed room. He told himself it was nothing. He told himself he would keep his head down and his hands steady and the rest of him quiet.

But when he reached the stairwell, he found he was already moving faster, already reaching for more.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three – Clashing Wills

The OR was a cathedral of light. White, sterile, merciless. Every sound carried: the whir of suction, the metallic clink of instruments, the low hum of the heart-lung machine replacing fragile muscle with mechanical rhythm.

Taehyung stood scrubbed and gloved at the second assist, sweat prickling beneath his cap despite the air-conditioned chill. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Not this close. First-years didn’t get the table. But Hoseok had whispered, “Dr. Jeon’s short-staffed today—don’t faint,” before sliding him into position with a wink.

And now Taehyung stood opposite Jungkook Jeon himself, who loomed at the head of the surgical field like a storm contained by surgical drapes.

“Left atrial exposure,” Jungkook said, voice flat, calm. He guided the retractor deeper. The mitral valve shimmered in the pool of light, pale tissue trembling under the perfusion pump’s rhythm.

Taehyung’s gaze followed every movement. He knew this anatomy from textbooks, from hours bent over diagrams, but never like this—never the beating, fragile truth of it. His fingers curled against the drape, itching.

Jungkook adjusted a suture. His hands were steady, unhurried, like time bent itself to his pace. For a moment, Taehyung forgot he was terrified. He only thought: I want to do that.

Then an opportunity flashed open. One of the assistants hesitated with a suction tip, leaving a thin pool of blood obscuring the leaflet. Before he could think, Taehyung angled his retractor differently, opening the view, clearing the space.

The field brightened. The valve gleamed clean.

For one sharp second, silence hummed. Jungkook’s eyes flicked up—dark, unreadable.

“Dr. Kim,” he said. The weight in his tone made Taehyung’s pulse stumble.

“Yes, doctor?”

“You will not adjust exposure unless instructed.”

“I—” Taehyung swallowed. “The leaflet wasn’t visible. I thought—”

“You don’t think. You observe.” Jungkook’s voice carried across the OR, clipped and cold. Every scrub nurse stiffened. The perfusionist glanced away. Even Hoseok, charting vitals at the monitor, winced.

Heat crawled up Taehyung’s neck. He forced his chin up. “With respect, sir, it worked. You can see the valve better now.”

The words slipped out sharper than he intended—too quick, too honest. The air tightened like a pulled suture.

Jungkook’s gaze pinned him, a storm front condensed into two black eyes. For an instant, Taehyung thought he’d be ejected from the OR entirely.

Then Jungkook’s mouth curved—not into a smile, but something colder. “Confidence is not a substitute for discipline. Remember that, Dr. Kim. You’re here to learn, not improvise.”

“Yes, doctor.” Taehyung’s jaw locked, voice steady though his chest burned. He held Jungkook’s gaze until the Alpha surgeon turned back to the heart, unruffled.

The rest of the operation passed in a blur. Jungkook’s hands moved like water, commanding, unflinching. Taehyung kept his own perfectly still, every muscle trembling with the effort not to flinch, not to falter.

When the final stitch tied off and the chest was closed, Jungkook stripped his gloves with a snap. “Dictate the case,” he said to the senior resident, ignoring Taehyung completely. Then, without a glance backward, he walked out of the OR, the scent of rain-soaked cedar trailing after him like a shadow.

Taehyung ripped off his mask once they were clear. His face burned with the flush of humiliation and the leftover rush of adrenaline. Jimin caught up with him in the locker room, eyes wide.

“You talked back to Jeon Jungkook,” Jimin whispered, equal parts horrified and impressed. “You actually told him he could see better.”

“Because he could,” Taehyung snapped, scrubbing his hands harder than necessary. “The patient mattered more than his ego.”

“Your funeral,” Jimin muttered, though his smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “For the record? I’ve never seen him look at a resident like that. You might’ve just made history.”

“Or an enemy,” Taehyung muttered.

“Same thing,” Jimin said cheerfully.

Later, Jungkook sat alone in the surgeon’s lounge, reviewing imaging. He should have dismissed the incident. First-years were impulsive, overeager, reckless. They always needed to be broken down before they could be rebuilt.

And yet—

He remembered the flash of Taehyung’s eyes above his mask, steady despite the weight of his reprimand. He remembered the sure angle of the retractor, the way it had opened the field so cleanly it had startled him.

Sharp wit beneath sweetness. Stubbornness beneath courtesy.

Troublesome.

His wolf shifted inside him, restless. Jungkook exhaled through his nose, shutting the laptop with a click.

“Stay in your place, Dr. Kim,” he muttered to the empty room.

But he knew already that Taehyung wouldn’t.

Chapter Text

Chapter Four – The Wolf Within

Hospitals were supposed to smell the same—antiseptic, latex, faint trails of coffee. That was what most humans noticed. But wolves? Wolves knew better.

The cardiac wing was thick with scent if you knew how to separate it: the sharp metallic tang of blood, the clean neutral thread of betas, the grounding musk of alphas passing through on rounds. And beneath it all, the faintest brush of sweetness—like cinnamon bark steeped in milk.

Taehyung.

Jungkook hadn’t meant to notice. He prided himself on discipline. But wolves noticed things they weren’t meant to. Especially alphas. Especially when an omega’s scent tugged at instincts he thought long buried.

He told himself it was nothing. A first-year resident’s pheromones shouldn’t distract him, shouldn’t matter. He told himself again and again—yet his wolf’s ears pricked every time Dr. Kim stepped into a room.

Taehyung, for his part, had never been so aware of his own skin.

The residents’ lounge was crowded with voices, clipboards, the shuffle of footsteps. Jimin had perched on the arm of a chair, narrating in hushed, amused tones how he’d once been chewed out by Dr. Jeon for breathing too loudly during an arterial graft. Hoseok leaned in the doorway, arms crossed, grinning.

Taehyung laughed with them, but his stomach twisted when the door opened and Jungkook entered, unannounced as a storm rolling over the horizon. Conversation thinned. Nurses straightened. Even the air sharpened.

Alpha, Taehyung’s instincts hummed. And not just any alpha—Jeon Jungkook, cedar and rain, sharp enough to slice through every other smell in the room.

Taehyung forced himself to look down at his notes. He would not let his body betray him. He would not breathe deeper. He would not notice that his pulse always seemed to leap whenever that scent drew close—like the promise of a storm breaking after a long drought.

“Dr. Kim,” Jungkook said. His tone was the same sharp blade he used on everyone, but his eyes flicked to the chair beside him. “Present case twenty-two.”

Taehyung stood, notebook in hand. “Male, fifty-seven, three-vessel coronary disease, scheduled for CABG tomorrow. Echocardiogram shows EF thirty-five percent, moderate MR, mild pulmonary hypertension. Labs within acceptable range.”

He spoke smoothly, clearly, as he had practiced. Jungkook’s gaze didn’t waver.

“Risks?”

“Post-op arrhythmia, low output syndrome, renal dysfunction. Mortality risk six percent.”

“And the graft plan?”

“LIMA to LAD, SVG to RCA, SVG to obtuse marginal.”

The room waited. Jungkook was silent too long. Finally, he said, “Adequate. But you failed to mention his history of poorly controlled diabetes. Healing risk increases significantly.”

Taehyung’s jaw tightened. “Yes, doctor.”

“You’ll need sharper recall if you want to survive this specialty,” Jungkook added. His voice was cold, but there was something else in his gaze, something flickering—like curiosity he couldn’t quite stamp out.

Taehyung exhaled evenly. “Noted.”

A faint arch of Jungkook’s brow, and then he looked away. “That’s all.”

But Taehyung knew. He’d seen it—the brief flash of surprise when he’d answered with confidence, the pause that said Jungkook had expected hesitation and hadn’t gotten it.

He didn’t know if that made him want to laugh or throw something.

Later, after the meeting, Taehyung slipped into the stairwell for a breath. He needed space. His wolf paced inside him, unsettled, as though some part of him had brushed against something far more dangerous than pride.

The door creaked again. Jungkook stepped in, alone, the scent of rain stronger here in the confined air.

Taehyung stiffened. “If you came to scold me more—”

“Not everything revolves around you, Dr. Kim.” Jungkook’s tone was bored, but his eyes lingered for a fraction too long. His wolf pressed forward before he pulled it back, jaw tight. “Control your scent.”

Taehyung’s lips parted. His cheeks flushed hot. “Excuse me?”

“You’re leaking it across the ward. Sweet. Distracting.” Jungkook’s voice lowered, unkind, but something restless edged it. “If you can’t manage basic composure, you’ll never survive here.”

Taehyung’s pulse roared. “Maybe I wouldn’t leak if a certain alpha didn’t stomp around dripping cedar and thunder like a forest fire every time he walked into a room.”

The words escaped before he could stop them. They hung in the stairwell like lightning caught midair.

For the first time since they’d met, Jungkook’s mouth twitched. Not a smile—something sharper, almost amused. His eyes caught the light, gleaming gold for the briefest instant before his lashes shuttered them back to black.

“Quick tongue,” Jungkook murmured. “Be careful where you use it.”

And then he was gone, the stairwell door swinging shut behind him, leaving Taehyung’s wolf shivering with something it refused to name.

In his office, Jungkook sat alone. His wolf prowled inside him, restless. It had caught cinnamon and milk in the stairwell, clinging to the back of his throat. It was too sweet. Too tempting.

He pressed a palm to his eyes, furious with himself.

“Stay away from him,” he told his reflection in the dark glass.

But he knew already it was too late.

Chapter Text

Chapter Five – Bonds

The cafeteria at Seoul National University Hospital was chaos distilled into stainless steel. Forks clattered, nurses called orders across the counter, residents in wrinkled scrubs wolfed down food in the narrow minutes between disasters.

Taehyung sat at a corner table with a tray of rice and kimchi stew, trying not to let his eyelids sink shut. His notebook lay open beside him, covered in half-legible scribbles: valve replacements, bypass grafts, lab values. His handwriting tilted worse the longer the day went.

“Yah, Taehyung-ah!”

A familiar voice sang across the room. Jimin dropped into the seat opposite him, grinning, his tray already piled high. “My favorite baby wolf! You look like a deflated balloon.”

Taehyung poked his rice with his spoon. “Because your best friend hasn’t slept since the century turned.”

“Exaggeration,” Jimin said cheerfully, shovelling in a bite. “But accurate. What did Jeon the Merciless do to you this time?”

Taehyung groaned. “Cut me down in front of half the surgical staff for adjusting a retractor.”

Jimin’s eyes widened, then crinkled with delight. “You argued with him, didn’t you?”

Taehyung muttered into his stew. “Maybe.”

“God, I wish I’d been there.” Jimin clutched his chest dramatically. “The look on his face—”

A new voice interrupted, quiet but threaded with amusement. “You mean the look where he considers disemboweling you but decides it’s not worth the paperwork?”

Yoongi Min slid into the seat beside Jimin, setting down his own tray with far less enthusiasm. Consultant badge, petite frame, the faintest sweet scent of strawberries trailing in his wake. He gave Taehyung a look—fond, assessing, like someone who already knew more than he said.

Taehyung straightened unconsciously. “Dr. Min.”

“Yoongi-hyung,” Yoongi corrected. His gummy smile softened the lines around his eyes. “Don’t waste honorifics on me. I’m not your attending.”

Jimin leaned close, lips brushing Yoongi’s shoulder as he murmured, “But you are mine.”

Yoongi’s mouth twitched. “Unfortunately.”

“Rude,” Jimin huffed, but the warmth in his eyes betrayed him.

Taehyung laughed quietly, tension easing from his shoulders. He’d only known Yoongi a short while, but something about the older omega’s calm steadiness made the hospital feel less sharp-edged.

“Seriously, though,” Yoongi said, picking at his rice, “Jungkook cuts down residents like it’s a hobby. Don’t take it personally.”

“I don’t,” Taehyung lied.

Yoongi’s dark eyes narrowed, reading him too easily. “Good. Because I’ve seen him turn even senior fellows into puddles. You lasted longer than most.”

“See?” Jimin nudged Taehyung’s foot under the table. “You’re already special.”

Before Taehyung could reply, Hoseok appeared, balancing three cartons of banana milk and looking far too awake for the late hour. “Special? Who’s special?”

“You, obviously,” Jimin deadpanned.

“Correct answer!” Hoseok plunked the milks onto the table and dropped into the remaining chair. His bright scent of sea air cut through the cafeteria’s mess. “Fuel, children. Drink up.”

Taehyung accepted the carton with a grateful smile. “Thanks, Hobi-hyung.”

Hoseok winked. “Of course. Can’t have my favorite puppy fainting mid-shift.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes, but warmth spread through his chest. Surrounded by Jimin’s teasing, Yoongi’s quiet steadiness, and Hoseok’s bright humor, the exhaustion didn’t feel so heavy.

For a while, the four of them ate, argued over cafeteria stew, and laughed about Hoseok’s latest ER chaos story—a drunk wolf insisting he was in labor despite being a beta.

Taehyung let himself breathe. Let himself feel what he often forgot: that he wasn’t alone here.

Across the cafeteria, Jungkook stood in line for coffee he didn’t need. He should have returned to his office to chart. Instead, his wolf had dragged him here, restless, unsettled.

His gaze caught on a corner table.

Taehyung sat with Jimin, Yoongi, and Hoseok, laughing at something Hoseok said. His smile lit his whole face, boxy and wide, his eyes crinkling into crescents. His scent—warm cinnamon and milk—spilled across the room, carried by his laughter until Jungkook’s wolf pricked up its ears.

Jungkook clenched his jaw and looked away. He had no reason to notice. No reason to feel the tug in his chest.

And yet he lingered longer than he should, coffee cooling in his hand.

Back at the table, Jimin leaned toward Taehyung, smirking. “You know, he’s staring again.”

Taehyung blinked. “Who?”

“Tall, cold, cedar forest, surgical demigod,” Jimin whispered. “Don’t look now.”

Of course Taehyung looked.

Jungkook’s eyes were already turned away, face unreadable, shoulders straight as a blade.

Taehyung’s stomach flipped. He took a long sip of banana milk to hide it.

Chapter Text

Chapter Six – The Chief & Who?

The general surgery conference room was already half-full when Taehyung slipped in with his coffee balanced precariously on a stack of charts. The air buzzed with the low murmur of residents trading overnight horror stories.

At the head of the table sat Kim Namjoon, Chief of General Surgery, flipping through notes with a calm efficiency that made even chaos seem like a solved puzzle. He was broad-shouldered, tall, his dimple cutting deep as he offered a quiet word to one of the nervous interns. His Alpha scent—steady, like clean earth after rain—carried the strange weight of reassurance.

Beside him lounged Dr. Kim Seokjin—trauma surgeon, model-handsome, legs crossed elegantly as though the fluorescent lights and overstuffed binders were a backdrop designed only to frame him. He was scrolling through his phone, lips curved in a faint smirk. His Omega scent was subtle but warm, a trace of hot cocoa and something sweeter that softened the edge of the room.

“Settle down, everyone,” Namjoon said, his voice firm but approachable. Conversations snapped off instantly. He had that effect—the kind of authority that didn’t need to shout. “Morning updates, then consult assignments.”

Taehyung slid into a chair near Jimin, trying to keep his eyes on his charts. He wasn’t sure if it was the caffeine or the way Jin’s gaze flicked across the room, landing on him with a sudden, sharp pause.

Their eyes met.

Taehyung froze.

Something unreadable flickered in Jin’s expression. His perfect posture shifted just slightly, his phone lowering to the table. He opened his mouth as if to say something—then closed it again when Namjoon cleared his throat.

The meeting moved forward. But Taehyung could feel Jin’s gaze brush him again and again, like fingertips testing the edge of an old scar.

Afterward, when the crowd filtered out, Taehyung lingered to organize his papers. Jimin slipped away toward the OR, mouthing I’ll cover you if you’re late.

Namjoon left with a chart in hand, a reassuring smile tossed back over his shoulder. Which left only Jin, leaning casually against the table, arms crossed, watching Taehyung too intently.

“You’re Kim Taehyung,” Jin said finally. His voice was smooth, cultured, but softer than Taehyung expected.

Taehyung’s chest tightened. “Yes, sir.”

Jin’s mouth curved. “Don’t ‘sir’ me. Makes me feel old. I’m only thirty-five.”

Taehyung’s lips twitched despite himself. “That’s still older than me.”

“Whatever.” Jin tilted his head, studying him. “You look like her.”

The words landed heavy. Taehyung blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Your mother.” Jin’s voice softened. “Julie-noona. I met her once. She smiled the same way you do.”

Taehyung’s throat went tight. He had never expected to hear his mother’s name in these walls—not from him.

“You’re my brother,” Jin said simply. No pretense, no hesitation. Just fact.

Half-brother, Taehyung’s mind corrected. Bastard, his father’s voice added, sharp as ever.

“I know,” Taehyung said carefully.

“I wanted to come see you. For years.” Jin’s smile faltered for the first time. “But Father—” He broke off, jaw tightening. “He made it clear.”

Taehyung’s pulse throbbed in his ears. “He made it clear to me too.”

Silence stretched, heavy with all the years between them.

Finally, Jin straightened. “I’m not here to make it worse. I just—” He hesitated, uncharacteristically awkward. “I want to be in your life. If you’ll let me.”

Taehyung’s chest ached. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to say no. He wanted to ask where Jin had been all the times he needed a brother. Instead he said nothing.

Jin’s smile returned, faint but steady. “Think about it. I’ll be around.”

He left the room in long, confident strides, shoulders broad, head high—like the world never told him he didn’t belong.

Taehyung sat alone with his cooling coffee, heart thundering, unsure if the hollow in his chest had grown heavier or lighter.

Outside, in the hallway, Jin fell into step beside Namjoon.

“Well?” Namjoon asked, glancing at him.

Jin exhaled, long and quiet. “He’s… more than I imagined. Stronger.” His lips pressed thin. “Father will hate that.”

Namjoon’s hand brushed Jin’s briefly, a grounding touch. “Then he can keep hating. We don’t take orders from him anymore.”

Jin nodded once, eyes lingering on the door behind them. “Still. I wish I’d been there sooner.”

Namjoon’s dimple flashed as he gave Jin a look—steady, kind, unshakable. “You’re here now. That matters.”

Jin only hoped it mattered enough.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven – A Glimpse of Kindness

The pediatric ward was quieter than the surgical floors—painted in pastel blues and yellows, windows covered in hand-drawn suns and cartoon wolves. The smell was different here, too: less antiseptic, more plastic toys, crayons, and the faint sweetness of Omega nurses who worked to soothe children through fear.

Taehyung didn’t belong on this floor, but he had been sent to collect a file for Dr. Jeon’s morning consult. He tucked the chart under his arm, scanning the hallway for the right room.

And then he saw him.

Jungkook.

Not the Alpha storm who filled the OR with sharp commands, but a man seated at the edge of a bed where a small boy lay pale against the sheets, chest bandaged, tubes snaking into his arms.

The boy’s wolf ears twitched weakly in his sleep—half-shifted in pain. A stuffed bear was clenched tight in his hands.

Taehyung stopped, unnoticed in the doorway.

Jungkook leaned forward, broad shoulders bent carefully so he didn’t disturb the wires. His voice was low, steady. “It’s not fair, is it?” he murmured. “You should be outside running, not stuck here with machines beeping at you.”

The boy stirred, eyelids fluttering. Jungkook smoothed a hand through his hair, gentle in a way Taehyung hadn’t thought possible. “But you’ll run again. That’s my promise to you.”

The words weren’t clinical. They weren’t detached. They were… kind.

Taehyung’s chest tightened.

He expected Jungkook to look annoyed, even here. But there was a softness to his expression now, carved with something deeper—something like grief tucked away, resurfacing in the presence of a child too small for such pain.

The boy whispered, “It hurts.”

“I know,” Jungkook said. He didn’t flinch. “It won’t forever. You’re stronger than you think. And I’ll be here until it doesn’t anymore.”

The wolf in Taehyung’s chest pressed forward, confused by the warmth rising in his throat. This wasn’t the same man who cut him down in the OR. This wasn’t the cold, unflinching Alpha who made residents tremble.

This was someone else. Someone human.

Jungkook hummed softly then—an old tune, low and steady, barely more than a vibration. The boy’s breathing slowed. The tension in his small frame eased, sleep claiming him again.

Taehyung’s throat burned. He stepped back before Jungkook noticed him, clutching the chart to his chest like a shield.

Later, back in the surgical conference room, Jungkook swept in as he always did—sharp suit jacket over scrubs, scent of cedar and storm rolling ahead of him. The cold mask was back in place, every inch the untouchable Alpha.

But Taehyung had seen beneath it.

And he couldn’t stop the thought from echoing through his mind:

What else is he hiding?

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight – Nightmares

The on-call room smelled faintly of coffee gone stale, sheets washed too many times, and exhaustion. The fluorescent light over the door flickered, buzzing like a trapped fly.

Taehyung pushed the door open quietly. He’d been sent to grab a file one of the residents had left behind. His body ached from back-to-back consults, and his wolf was restless, tugging at him with the need for food, sleep, anything but another chart.

He didn’t expect the room to be occupied.

Jungkook lay on the narrow cot, still in scrubs, one arm flung over his eyes. His broad chest rose and fell unevenly, breath catching. At first Taehyung thought he was simply asleep—until he heard it.

A broken sound.

Jungkook’s body tensed, fists clenching, his jaw working silently. Then words, fractured, tore through his teeth:

“Appa—brake, brake, please—”

Taehyung froze. His wolf pressed forward, ears pricking, heart hammering.

Another sound—this one rawer. The kind of sound you didn’t make awake.

Jungkook shifted violently, back arching as though the impact struck him again. His breath turned ragged, his Alpha scent surging uncontrolled—cedar and rainstorm churned into something darker, laced with fear.

Without thinking, Taehyung crossed the room. He crouched beside the bed, hand hovering before he dared place it lightly on Jungkook’s forearm. “Dr. Jeon—”

The Alpha jolted upright, eyes wide, golden flicker blazing where black should have been. His chest heaved, sweat beading at his temple. For a breathless second, Taehyung thought Jungkook might shift right there in the cramped room.

Then recognition dawned. His gaze locked on Taehyung, focus snapping into place.

Taehyung’s hand was still on his arm. Warm. Steady. He didn’t move it.

Jungkook’s throat worked. “What are you doing here?” His voice was hoarse, stripped bare of its usual blade.

“I came for a file.” Taehyung’s voice was quiet. “You were… dreaming.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened. His gaze darted away, shame burning in the line of his shoulders. He scrubbed a hand down his face, forcing his breathing even. “Forget it.”

Taehyung hesitated, then said softly, “You don’t have to carry it alone.”

That made Jungkook look at him sharply, as if Taehyung had reached across some line no one else dared to cross. His eyes were still too bright, still touched with the wolf’s gold.

“Don’t,” Jungkook said, but there was no real anger in it. Only exhaustion. Only fear.

Taehyung swallowed. “I wasn’t going to tell anyone.”

A long silence stretched. The storm scent in the air began to settle, cedar grounding again. Jungkook finally exhaled, shoulders loosening fractionally.

“Get back to your shift, Dr. Kim,” he said, voice rough.

Taehyung lingered a second longer, studying the Alpha’s face in this rare, unguarded moment. He saw the shadow of a boy who had lost everything in an instant. He saw not just the surgeon, not just the cold mentor, but the man.

Then he nodded, stood, and slipped out quietly.

Alone again, Jungkook pressed the heel of his hand to his eyes.

The dream still clung to him—the headlights, the screech, the shattering glass. His father’s hand slipping from his.

And the warmth of Taehyung’s hand on his arm, soft and steady, cutting through the nightmare.

It lingered longer than it should have.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine – The First of Many

The call came just after dawn: a young woman, thirty-four, collapsed at home with chest pain. By the time she reached the ER, her blood pressure had plummeted, and imaging screamed the diagnosis—acute aortic dissection, Type A.

Every surgical team member was paged. By the time Taehyung burst into the scrub room, adrenaline buzzing through his veins, Jungkook was already there, tying his gown with calm precision. His black hair curled damp against his forehead, his eyes sharp.

“Stay out of the way,” Jungkook said without looking at him.

Taehyung bit down on a retort. “Yes, doctor.”

But once in the OR, everything shifted.

The patient was wheeled in, pale, chest heaving. Nurses moved fast, anesthesiologist already prepping. The perfusionist primed the heart-lung machine. The scent of fear — the patient’s family crying in the hall, the faint tremor of staff nerves — thickened the air.

Jungkook stood at the head of the table, mask on, commanding. “This is life or death. We have minutes. Everyone focused.”

“Yes, doctor,” the team chorused.

Taehyung’s wolf surged, his instincts sharpened. He’d been warned not to get in the way. But standing at second assist, watching blood pressure tumble on the monitor, he couldn’t stay silent.

“Doctor—blood pressure’s dropping fast, seventy over thirty,” the anesthesiologist said urgently.

“Cannulate now,” Jungkook snapped, hands steady as he opened the chest.

The senior resident hesitated, fumbling with the line. Seconds ticked by.

“Move,” Taehyung said sharply before he realized the words were his. His hands darted forward, swift and precise, sliding the cannula into the artery with practiced ease. Blood filled the line. The perfusionist’s voice steadied: “Flow established.”

The monitor beeped a steadier rhythm. Relief rippled through the team.

Jungkook’s head turned. For one charged second, his dark eyes locked on Taehyung’s. Something unreadable flickered there—anger, surprise, grudging respect.

Then his voice cut sharp as ever. “Don’t overstep again without orders.”

“Yes, doctor,” Taehyung said. His heart hammered, but his hands didn’t shake.

The surgery pushed forward, hours compressed into heartbeats. Jungkook’s skill was unrelenting, a storm contained by steel. Taehyung matched his pace, anticipating instrument changes, suction angles, suture tension. The rhythm between them tightened until it was seamless—like they’d rehearsed this a hundred times, though they hadn’t.

When the graft was secured and blood flow restored, the perfusionist announced, “Vitals stabilizing. Rhythm holding.”

The collective exhale was audible.

“Close,” Jungkook ordered finally. His voice was calm, but the tension in his shoulders eased.

Afterward, in the scrub room, Taehyung peeled off his gloves, sweat plastering his hair beneath the cap. He felt wrung out, every nerve still alive with adrenaline.

Jungkook approached, scrubs damp, eyes sharp. “You took initiative without permission.”

Taehyung lifted his chin. “If I hadn’t, she’d have crashed before you could bypass.”

The silence stretched taut between them.

Finally, Jungkook’s jaw flexed. “Your technique was clean.”

It wasn’t praise. Not quite. But Taehyung felt the weight of it all the same.

“Thank you,” he said simply.

Jungkook turned away, grabbing his notes. “Don’t expect me to go easy on you. One correct move doesn’t erase recklessness.”

Taehyung’s lips curved despite himself. “I wouldn’t want you to go easy on me.”

That made Jungkook pause, just for a heartbeat, before the door swung shut behind him.

In the quiet scrub room, Taehyung let out a long breath. His wolf paced inside him, restless, triumphant. For the first time, he hadn’t just survived Jungkook’s scrutiny—he’d impressed him.

And judging by the storm in Jungkook’s eyes, the Alpha knew it.

The hospital quieted after midnight, corridors dimmed, machines humming like restless sleepers. Taehyung’s shift had ended hours ago, but his body still buzzed with leftover adrenaline from the dissection case. He couldn’t shut it off—the rhythm of sutures, the blood pressure monitor’s steady climb, the way his instincts had pushed him forward when no one else moved.

He wandered into the residents’ lounge, half-empty now, and dropped into the couch with a sigh. His wolf prowled inside him, restless, unsatisfied.

The door opened.

Jungkook.

Still in scrubs, dark hair damp, his scent—cedar and storm—rolled into the room like thunderclouds. He didn’t look surprised to see Taehyung. Only irritated.

“You should be sleeping,” Jungkook said flatly.

“So should you,” Taehyung countered.

Their eyes met. For a long, brittle moment, neither looked away.

Jungkook crossed the room, dropping a file onto the table with a sharp slap. “You disobeyed direct orders today.”

“I saved her life.”

“You got lucky.”

“No.” Taehyung stood, heat rushing through him, standing toe-to-toe with the taller Alpha. “I knew what I was doing. You’re just too proud to admit I was right.”

The air between them crackled, scents sharpening—cinnamon and milk flaring against cedar and rain.

Jungkook’s wolf pressed close to the surface, eyes flashing gold. “Careful, Dr. Kim.”

“Or what?” Taehyung shot back, his own wolf bristling, refusing to bare its throat. “You’ll bark louder? Scold me again like I’m a child?”

Something broke then - snapped like a stretched suture giving way.

Jungkook’s hand fisted in Taehyung’s coat, dragging him forward. 

And the kiss, it was a collision—teeth, heat, breath stolen. Taehyung gasped into it, his hands bracing hard against Jungkook’s chest, only to pull him closer.

It wasn’t tender. It was hungry.

Jungkook growled low, the sound vibrating through Taehyung’s body, a primal warning and a plea all at once. Taehyung bit his lower lip in answer, refusing to yield.

The growl broke into a harsh breath, and Jungkook pressed him back against the wall, mouth devouring his, hands gripping his waist like he could anchor himself there.

“Still think you can talk back to me?” Jungkook rasped against his lips.

“Every damn time,” Taehyung whispered, dragging him down again.

Their bodies moved with instinct as much as choice. Alpha scent poured heavy and grounding, Omega scent rising in answer, slick sweetness flooding the air like heat rolling through a summer night. Their wolves clawed at the edges of their control, demanding, now, now, now.

They stumbled, mouths still locked, into the on-call room. The door slammed behind them. In the half-dark, scrubs tore, hands gripped too tight, skin burned where it met skin. Taehyung's back hit the wall, a kiss so full of anger, heat and something neither of them could name, it made heat pool deep in their lower halves. Before Taehyung could even control the moan slipping from his lips, he was being pushed down onto the small, creaky bed. Jungkook's body pressing him down, every movement claiming. Taehyung's breath broke, his wolf shivering between defiance and need.

Jungkook's mouth trailed down Taehyung's neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Taehyung gasped, his head falling back, exposing more of his neck to Jungkook. Jungkook's hands roamed over Taehyung's body, tracing the lines of his muscles, the curve of his ass. Taehyung's slick sweetness flooded the air like heat rolling through a summer night, his body preparing for Jungkook, his Alpha.

Jungkook's fingers found Taehyung's hole, circling it, teasing it. Taehyung's breath hitched, his body tensing. Jungkook's fingers pressed in, one, then two, stretching him, preparing him. Taehyung's nails dug into Jungkook's shoulders, his breath breaking, his wolf shivering between defiance and need.

The room filled with the sounds of them—ragged breaths, bitten-off gasps, the low rumble of Jungkook’s chest against the sharp cry Taehyung couldn’t hold in. Their scents tangled, heavy, clinging to every surface, marking the space as theirs for this one reckless night.

Jungkook's fingers withdrew, replaced by the head of his cock, pressing against Taehyung's hole. Taehyung's breath hitched, his body tensing. Jungkook's hand found Taehyung's dick, stroking it, his thumb circling the head, spreading the precum that leaked from the tip. Taehyung's body relaxed, his hips moving, taking Jungkook in, inch by inch.

Jungkook's movements were rough, desperate, claiming. Taehyung met him thrust for thrust, his body moving with instinct as much as choice. Their bodies moved together, a dance as old as time, a battle of wills and needs.

Taehyung's orgasm hit him like a freight train, his body tensing, his cock pulsing, his slick flooding out of him, coating Jungkook's cock, his balls, his thighs. Jungkook's movements became erratic, his cock pulsing as he came, his seed spilling into Taehyung, marking him, claiming him.

And when it was over, when the storm had spent itself, they collapsed into the sheets—sweat-slicked, breathless, wolves inside them finally quiet.

For a long moment, neither spoke.

Taehyung stared at the ceiling, chest heaving, his heart pounding with more than exertion. He didn’t want to look at Jungkook, afraid of what he might see, afraid of what he might feel.

Jungkook turned onto his side, back to him, voice flat and cold again. “This never happened.”

The words cut sharper than any reprimand in the OR.

Taehyung forced himself to swallow down the sting. “Fine.”

He dressed quietly, each movement sharp and deliberate, like stitching a wound closed too fast.

When he slipped out of the room, the air still clung with cedar and cinnamon, storm and sweetness, tangled too tightly to separate.

Inside, Jungkook lay motionless, staring into the dark. His wolf prowled restlessly, unsatisfied by denial. But he said nothing, and the silence pressed down heavy.

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten – Friends with Complications

The morning air in the cardiac wing was sharp with coffee and antiseptic. Nurses bustled, residents scrambled, the world spun on its usual axis. But Taehyung stood very still as Jungkook approached, every line of him coiled tight.

“Dr. Kim.” Jungkook’s voice was quiet, but it carried weight, pulling the air taut around them. “A word.”

Taehyung followed him down the hall, heart pounding, wolf bristling. They stopped in an empty consultation room. Jungkook shut the door with a soft click.

The silence was heavier than shouting.

“What happened last night,” Jungkook said finally, his tone clipped, precise, “was a mistake. It cannot happen again.”

Taehyung’s chest tightened. He forced a laugh, brittle. “You call that a mistake? Felt pretty deliberate to me.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed, storm-dark. “You’re my resident. I’m your attending. Do you understand what that means?”

“That you get to boss me around in the OR?” Taehyung shot back, boxy smile sharp as glass.

“It means,” Jungkook said, voice low, “that lines exist for a reason. Crossing them endangers us both.”

“Or maybe it just makes us honest.”

The words slipped out before Taehyung could stop them. His wolf pressed close, head high, refusing to submit.

Jungkook stepped closer, cedar scent rolling heavier, his Alpha presence filling the small room. “You think this is honesty?” His voice was rougher now, control fraying at the edges. “This is instinct. Biology. Nothing more.”

Taehyung’s throat burned. He swallowed hard. “Then why did it feel like more?”

The silence that followed was thick, dangerous. Jungkook’s jaw clenched. His eyes flickered, gold threading through black.

“Because you’re an Omega,” Jungkook ground out. “And I’m an Alpha. Our bodies are wired to pull at each other. It means nothing.”

Taehyung flinched. The words cut deep, deeper than any surgical reprimand. His wolf bristled, wounded but proud.

“Fine,” he said tightly. “If that’s what you need to believe.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened for just a heartbeat—regret flashing before the mask slammed back down. “It is what it is. Keep your focus where it belongs. On the work.”

He turned, hand on the door, but Taehyung’s voice stopped him.

“You can lie to yourself all you want, Dr. Jeon,” Taehyung said quietly. “But don’t expect me to pretend I didn’t feel it too.”

Jungkook didn’t answer. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the air heavy with cedar and storm.

Later, in the residents’ lounge, Jimin found Taehyung slumped at a corner table, chin propped on his fist, coffee cooling untouched.

“You look like someone stepped on your tail,” Jimin said, sliding into the chair opposite him.

“Nothing new,” Taehyung muttered.

Jimin raised an eyebrow. “Did Jeon the Merciless flay you again?”

Taehyung tried to smile, but it cracked. “Something like that.”

Jimin leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “You’ve been… different lately. Sharper. Distracted. And don’t say it’s just the hours—we’re all dead on our feet. What’s going on, Tae?”

Taehyung hesitated. Jimin was his best friend, had been since childhood. He’d held Taehyung’s secrets before—about his grandmother’s health, about their father’s cruelty, about every insecurity Taehyung had tried to bury.

So he let himself be honest, at least halfway.

“He gets under my skin,” Taehyung admitted, voice low. “Everything he says, everything he does—it makes me want to prove him wrong.”

“Or prove yourself to him?” Jimin asked gently.

Taehyung’s cheeks flushed. “Maybe both.”

Jimin studied him for a long moment, then leaned back, sighing. “Tae, I know you want to be the best. And I know how much his approval would mean. But don’t let him tear you apart in the process. You’re more than his judgment.”

Taehyung’s throat ached. “Sometimes I wonder if he even sees me. Not just another resident. Me.”

Jimin’s smile was soft, warm. “Of course he sees you. Everyone does. You walk into a room and it changes. You’re stubborn, brilliant, infuriating—and people can’t look away.”

Taehyung laughed weakly. “You’re biased.”

“Damn right,” Jimin said, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “But I’m also right. Don’t let him make you forget who you are.”

The warmth of his friend’s touch steadied him, grounding him in a way no Alpha could.

Still, when Taehyung walked back to the ward, he carried not only Jimin’s comfort but also the echo of Jungkook’s words—It means nothing—and the sharper truth beneath them.

The next time Taehyung saw Jungkook, it was like a switch had flipped back to their very first day together. 

The surgical boardroom hummed with the usual pre-round chatter—nurses comparing notes, residents flipping through charts, monitors beeping faintly from the hallway. Jungkook stood at the head of the table, posture straight, expression unreadable as he discussed the morning’s patients.

Taehyung, perched beside Jimin, skimmed the case file and spoke up, his voice careful but steady. “I was thinking we could try adjusting the patient’s medication slightly—just until we get clearer lab results. It might ease the chest pain without compromising the—”

“No.” Jungkook’s voice cut across the room, sharp as a scalpel. Heads turned. “That’s reckless. Do you even understand the risk? Don’t speak unless you’re sure.”

The words landed like a slap. Taehyung’s face flushed hot, his throat closing around the rest of what he’d been about to say. The other doctors and nurses shifted awkwardly, eyes flicking between them.

Jungkook turned away, his tone clipped as he moved to the next patient file. Taehyung swallowed hard, his heart pounding, humiliation burning at his skin. Still, he refused to show it on his face. He wouldn't let Jungkook think enough of himself to believe he could get under Taehyung’s skin. If Jungkook insisted on keeping his cool facade, Taehyung could put up a facade of his own. 


And for a couple of days, it worked.

In spite of Jungkook's obvious efforts to put space between them, Taehyung kept his head high and voice steady. It didn't matter how many unnecessary cold words were jabbed at him, sliced through him, Jungkook couldn't, wouldn't get past his skin. 


But then, it happened again. And again. And again. And Taehyung's skin was growing so cold, it had started to hurt. 

It was a few days after the ‘one night stand' had happened. The cardio ward buzzed with the quiet hum of morning rounds. Charts were passed, cases discussed, and the scent of coffee clung to the air. Taehyung, clutching his notes, spoke up hesitantly as they reached the case of an elderly woman awaiting bypass surgery.

“Her blood pressure is stabilizing, and if we adjust her medications just slightly, we could buy enough time to strengthen her before—”

“Ridiculous.”

The single word cracked through the room like a whip.

Taehyung blinked. Jungkook hadn’t even looked up from the chart in his hand. His tone was cool, sharp enough to slice. “We don’t play with numbers, Dr. Kim. We treat patients. Stop theorizing like you’re in a classroom.”

Several heads turned. A couple of residents shifted uncomfortably. One nurse bit her lip.

Taehyung felt his throat close, heat rising to his face. He swallowed hard, nodding stiffly, his voice catching. “Yes, sir.”

Jungkook moved on to the next case without another glance.

Taehyung kept his head down, eyes burning, and when rounds ended, he slipped out quickly before anyone could stop him.

The empty on-call room was dim and cool. Taehyung closed the door quietly behind him, pressing his back against it as a tear slid free. He bit his lip, willing himself not to cry—but his wolf instincts betrayed him. His ears flickered into being, soft brown against his curls, as if his body was trying to comfort itself.

He buried his face in his hands. “Stupid,” he muttered. “Don’t let him get to you.”

The door clicked open.

“Taehyung.”

Jungkook’s voice was low, but Taehyung stiffened anyway. He turned quickly, swiping at his cheeks, willing his ears away—but Jungkook was faster. His hand closed gently around Taehyung’s arm.

“Don’t,” Taehyung whispered, trying to pull back.

But Jungkook’s gaze had already caught on the remnants of tears, the fading trace of wolf ears that slipped away as Taehyung’s composure rebuilt itself. His own chest twisted. He hadn’t meant—no, he had meant to push Taehyung away, but not like this.

“Hey,” Jungkook murmured, softer now. He reached up, brushing the wetness from Taehyung’s cheek with his thumb. “I shouldn’t have—” His words failed. Their eyes locked, the distance collapsing like it had that night.

“What?” Taehyung whispered hesitantly into the space between them.

Before Jungkook could think better of it, he leaned in. Their lips met—soft, tentative, the kind of kiss that felt more like a question than an answer.

For a breathless moment, Taehyung let it happen. Then he pulled back sharply, eyes flashing.

“No,” he said firmly, voice trembling with hurt and anger. “I don’t want you to kiss me now just to go off later and pull the kind of shit you did today. It’s not fair.”

Jungkook’s throat worked, guilt tightening his features. “You’re right.”

Taehyung took a step back, wrapping his arms around himself. “It’s fine if you don’t want this to happen again. Really. But can we at least…not be assholes to each other? At least not without good reason?”

Something unknotted slightly in Jungkook’s chest. He nodded. “Agreed.”

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t sharp anymore. Taehyung’s shoulders eased a little. He slipped past him toward the door, pausing only to glance back once—eyes softer now, though wary. “I’ll see you in rounds.”

Jungkook stayed behind, exhaling slowly, hand brushing over his lips like he could still feel the kiss.

In the corridor outside, Jimin stood frozen, chart in hand, Yoongi at his side. They both watched as Taehyung walked out of the on-call room, eyes red but chin lifted, followed a moment later by Jungkook, his expression unreadable.

Yoongi’s brows furrowed. Jimin’s mouth tightened. Neither said a word. But both of them were thinking the same thing: complicated.

The cafeteria was too bright for how little Taehyung had slept. He slumped at the corner table with a carton of banana milk, eyelids heavy, notes spread in front of him but unread.

Jimin dropped his tray down with a clatter. “Well, if it isn’t Seoul’s newest cardiac prodigy. Look at you, thriving.”

Taehyung cracked an eye open. “Do I look like I’m thriving?”

“No,” Jimin said cheerfully, digging into his rice. “You look like death. But the kind of death that still makes people stare because you’re too pretty for your own good.”

Taehyung groaned and buried his face in his folded arms.

“You’re impossible,” Jimin said around a mouthful of kimchi. “Seriously, though. You’ve been weird lately. You disappear, you come back smelling like thunderstorms, and you’re wound tighter than a surgical knot. Want to tell me why?”

Taehyung’s wolf bristled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jimin leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Tae. We’ve been friends since I watched you eat glue in second grade. You can’t lie to me.”

“I was five,” Taehyung mumbled.

“And now you’re twenty-four and still terrible at hiding things.” Jimin’s gaze softened. “Is it him?”

Taehyung stiffened. “Who?”

“Jeon Jungkook.” Jimin’s smile was wry. “You glare at him like you want to throw a scalpel at his head, and then you stare at him like you want to… well, let’s not finish that sentence while I’m eating.”

Taehyung’s face heated. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” Jimin’s eyes glinted. “Because you smell like cinnamon in heat every time he walks into a room. And I’m a beta. If even I notice…”

Taehyung sat up straighter, glaring. “Drop it, Jimin.”

“Fine, fine.” Jimin raised his hands in surrender, though his grin didn’t fade. “But just know—if you fall for him, I’ll be here to pick up the pieces. Or to say ‘I told you so.’ Probably both.”

Before Taehyung could retort, Hoseok appeared, balancing a tray with three cartons of banana milk and a ridiculous grin.

“My favorite puppies!” he announced, plopping into the seat beside Taehyung. “Look at you two, brooding over breakfast. Don’t tell me Jungkook’s been terrorizing you again, Tae.”

Taehyung rubbed his temple. “He’s always terrorizing me.”

Hoseok laughed, sliding a carton his way. “Cheer up. At least you’re not in the ER at 3 a.m. convincing a drunk Beta he’s not pregnant.”

Jimin nearly choked on his rice. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“I wish.” Hoseok leaned back, sighing dramatically. “Guy swore he felt the baby kick.”

Taehyung snorted despite himself, the knot in his chest loosening.

Hoseok’s eyes twinkled. “There it is. That smile. Careful though—if Jeon the Great sees it, he might combust. He’s already staring at you more than his monitors.”

Taehyung nearly spat his milk. “He is not—”

“Oh, he is.” Hoseok grinned wider. “Alpha eyes, stormy scent, broody aura. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was halfway mated already.”

“Stop,” Taehyung said, his ears burning.

Jimin smirked. “I’ve been saying the same thing all week.”

Taehyung dropped his head onto the table with a groan. “I hate both of you.”

“Lies,” Jimin said, patting his back.

“You love us,” Hoseok added, leaning his chin on his hand. “And deep down, you love the chaos we bring.”

Taehyung muttered into the table, but his lips curved despite himself.

When he finally escaped to the stairwell later, his heart still hammered with the echo of their teasing. His wolf paced, restless, unwilling to admit the truth Jimin and Hoseok had both seen.

Because if they were right…

If he really was falling, even a little…

What would it cost him?

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven – Nights Aflame

It didn’t happen all at once.

It happened the way storms roll over the city—first a press of air, then a long, shivering hush, and finally the crack that splits the sky.

The residents’ lounge was quiet for once, the hum of the vending machine filling the space. Taehyung was curled on the sofa with a stack of patient charts balanced on his lap, lips pursed as he scribbled notes. His curls kept falling forward, and every few minutes he huffed in frustration, pushing them back only for them to tumble again.

Jungkook stopped in the doorway. He told himself he should keep walking—he had rounds, after all—but his feet stayed planted. Something about Taehyung like this, quiet and intent, pulled at him in ways he didn’t want to admit.

“You’re supposed to be off the clock,” Jungkook said finally, voice low.

Taehyung startled, glancing up. “I am. Just… catching up.”

“On what? Burnout?” Jungkook stepped inside, cedar scent stirring faintly around him. “You can’t pour into your patients if you’ve got nothing left yourself.”

The softness in his tone made Taehyung’s chest ache. It wasn’t the clipped, cold reprimand he usually got—it was concern, bare and unguarded.

Taehyung tried for levity. “Didn’t know you cared, Dr. Jeon.”

Jungkook’s gaze lingered a beat too long. “Don’t make assumptions.”

Taehyung’s smile faltered. He lowered his eyes to the charts, but he felt Jungkook move closer, felt the weight of him like a storm on the horizon.

Jungkook plucked the pen gently from his fingers and set it aside. “Get some water. Rest your eyes. The charts will wait.”

For a moment, Taehyung saw something unshielded in Jungkook’s expression—softness, worry, maybe even want. And then it was gone, his mask sliding back into place as he turned to leave.

But the echo of that look stayed with Taehyung, a warmth lodged under his ribs. It left the air between them taut, charged—so that later, when they collided in the cramped dark of the supply closet, it didn’t feel like madness. It felt inevitable.

The on-call hallway was empty, most of the staff scattered on break or grabbing food. Taehyung leaned against the wall outside the OR, scrubbing at a stubborn stain of iodine on his wrist. He didn’t notice Jungkook until cedar scent drifted close.

“You missed a spot.”

Taehyung jumped. “God, you move like a ghost.”

Jungkook’s mouth curved faintly. He reached for Taehyung’s hand before he could protest, thumb rubbing slow circles over the skin where the stain clung. His touch was clinical, practiced—yet his fingers lingered, rough pads dragging just a little too long.

Taehyung’s breath stuttered. He couldn’t look away from Jungkook’s eyes, dark and unreadable in the low light.

“There,” Jungkook said softly, though he didn’t immediately release him.

Taehyung swallowed. “You could’ve just told me.”

“I did.” Jungkook’s voice dropped, almost a growl. He finally let go, but his fingers brushed Taehyung’s palm as if reluctant.

The air thickened, charged with something neither of them dared name. Taehyung’s pulse skittered; Jungkook’s jaw clenched, his wolf close to the surface. For a moment, neither moved.

Then footsteps echoed from around the corner, breaking the spell. Jungkook straightened sharply, mask sliding back into place.

But when their eyes met again, the pull was undeniable.

When it happened, when they collided, it was simultaneously unexpected yet completely unsurprising.

It came at the end of a fourteen-hour day that left everyone brittle. A valve repair had run long; a post-op patient had desaturated; a terrified spouse had clutched Taehyung’s sleeve and asked, “Will he wake up?” until the question lived under his skin. By midnight, the corridors were quiet enough to hear the ice maker in the nurses’ station, the hum of fluorescent lights, the soft murmur of a lullaby from paediatrics bleeding through a closed door.

Taehyung was charting in the dim light, head tipped back against the wall, when cedar and rain moved through the air like weather.

“Dr. Kim,” Jungkook said.

Taehyung didn’t look up. “If you say ‘a word’ I might throw this computer.”

Silence, then the subtle sound of a door clicking shut. The supply room. Taehyung’s pulse lurched.

“Inside,” Jungkook said quietly. And Taehyung, he knew. Yet still, he followed.

The light in the supply room was a thin strip beneath the door and the blue glow of a sleeping monitor in the corner. Towers of gauze and saline framed the space like pale trees. The moment the latch caught, the air changed—scents flaring, wolves crowding the skin. Cedar deepened to something darker. The sweetness in Taehyung’s scent rose to meet it, warm as cinnamon steeped in milk.

“This is a bad idea,” Taehyung breathed, though his hands had already found Jungkook’s shoulders, though his body leaned up into heat he’d been trying to ignore for days.

“I know,” Jungkook said against his mouth, and then there was no room for speech.

The kiss wasn’t angry this time. It was hungry. Jungkook’s control held for a breath, two, before his wolf pushed hard at the edges. Taehyung met it with soft defiance, with the kind of yielding that wasn’t surrender so much as choice. 

In the heat of the cramped supply closet, Taehyung’s back hit the shelving with a muffled clatter, Jungkook’s mouth hot and demanding against his. Hands tangled in fabric and hair, the air thick with cedar and cinnamon.

For a fleeting second, Jungkook caught Taehyung’s wrist—the same one he’d cleaned hours before in the hallway. His thumb dragged over the exact spot, rough and lingering.

Taehyung gasped into the kiss, the memory flashing between them like lightning. The softness from earlier and the fire now tangled together, too much to untangle.

Jungkook’s voice was a rasp against his lips. “I told you not to overwork yourself.”

Taehyung laughed breathlessly, defiant even as he melted under him. “And you didn’t listen when I said I’m not afraid of you.”

Their mouths crashed together again, the callback anchoring the encounter in something more than raw heat—it was want, threaded through every moment they hadn’t dared touch before. Fingers curled in fabric. A half-stifled sound broke loose when Jungkook’s mouth left his and found the line of his jaw, the curve of his throat. Taehyung’s head tipped back against the metal shelving with a soft clink.

“Tell me to stop,” Jungkook rasped, breath hot, voice wrecked.

“Don’t stop,” Taehyung whispered, and whatever thread of restraint had been holding the night together snapped.

Clothes were torn away, buttons popping off and flying across the floor. Taehyung's shirt hung in tatters from his shoulders, his chest heaving as Jungkook's hands mapped every inch of his skin.

Jungkook's mouth found Taehyung's nipple, his tongue swirling around the hardened bud. Taehyung cried out, his fingers tangling in Jungkook's hair. The alpha's touch was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure through Taehyung's body.

Just when Taehyung thought he couldn't take any more, Jungkook pulled back. The alpha stood, his clothes long since discarded. His cock was a thing of beauty, thick and hard and dripping with pre-cum. Taehyung licked his lips, desperate to taste it.

Jungkook grabbed Taehyung's hips and lifted him easily, impaling the omega on his thick shaft. Taehyung cried out at the sudden fullness, his walls stretching to accommodate Jungkook's girth. The alpha started to move, his hips snapping forward with brutal force.

Taehyung could only hang on for dear life, his nails digging into Jungkook's shoulders. The alpha's scent was overwhelming, a heady mix of cedar and musk that made Taehyung's head spin. He could feel Jungkook's knot starting to form, the alpha's thrusts becoming more erratic.

Just as Taehyung thought he couldn't take any more, Jungkook's finally came. He kept his knot just outside the omega’s rim, ignoring the urge to lock them together. And as his cock continued to pulse, Jungkook grunted with the pleasure of it all. A final spurt shooting into Taehyung as the omega moaned loudly with the ecstasy of his own release crashing over him like a tidal wave.

They stayed like that for a long moment, panting and gasping for air. Finally, Jungkook pulled out, his knot deflating. Taehyung almost slid to the floor, his legs too weak to hold him up, but he caught himself in time.

They didn’t talk after—there was nothing to say that the ragged catch of breath and the trembling quiet couldn’t cover. When they stepped back out, the corridor felt colder. They walked in opposite directions as if they’d only passed in passing. In the reflection of the darkened window, Taehyung watched Jungkook not look back, watched his own shoulders square like a man fitting himself into a coat that didn’t quite keep the weather off.

The second time was a week later, on the roof.

Seoul lay glittering under them, a spill of lights; the helipad illuminating everything in a ghostly glow. The night breeze skimmed the concrete, carrying the city’s salt-and-metal breath. Taehyung came for air and found Jungkook already there, hands in the pockets of a black jacket thrown over scrubs, hair ruffled by the breeze.

“I’ll leave,” Taehyung said, retreating behind the flimsy shield of propriety and protocol. "We shouldn't—"

Jungkook shook his head. “Stay.” He said, his voice roughened from too many hours talking over machines. “I don’t own the sky.”

They stood a meter apart, not looking at each other, letting hipbone and shoulder learn the outline of silence. Down in the wards, the monitors went on singing their green songs. Up here, the distance between them gathered like thunderheads.

“You were good today,” Jungkook said eventually, raw in a way Taehyung had only heard once before—in a nightmare-dark room. “On the endocarditis case. The way you calmed the family. The line you got in when everyone else was fumbling.”

Taehyung turned. “You noticed.”

Jungkook’s mouth twitched. “I notice everything.”

“Except when you don’t,” Taehyung said, too soft to be a challenge and too true to be anything else.

Wind tugged at Jungkook’s jacket. For a heartbeat his eyes flashed gold, the wolf pressing close. “Come here,” he said, and when Taehyung did, it felt like stepping out into rain you’ve been smelling all day—inevitable, cleansing, ruinous.

It wasn’t frantic up here; it was slow and inexorable, hands learning, mouths memorizing. When Jungkook kissed him this time, it felt like he was drawing a map he’d keep even if they both pretended to burn it later.

Taehyung’s body answered without hesitation, heat unfurling, scents twining until the night air tasted of them.

The alpha surged forward, capturing Taehyung's lips in a searing kiss. They stumbled back against the wall beside the door, lost in a practiced dance of grasping hands and sliding tongues. Jungkook's hands roamed Taehyung's body, mapping every dip and curve through the thin fabric of his clothes.

Taehyung whimpered, his body aching with need.

Jungkook made quick work of Taehyung's pants, pushing them down to expose the omega's dripping hole. He pressed two fingers inside without preamble, groaning at the slick heat that greeted him. "So fucking wet for me already."

He pumped his fingers in and out, curling them just right to hit Taehyung's sweet spot. Taehyung keened, his head thrown back in ecstasy. Jungkook's free hand worked open his own pants, pulling out his thick, aching cock. The head was already slick with pre-cum.

“Wrap your legs around me.” Jungkook grunted as he pressed his fingers into the meat of taehyungs thighs.

Taehyung obeyed, allowing himself to be held up by the alpha. Jungkook lined up his cock and thrust forward, sheathing himself to the hilt in one smooth stroke. They both cried out at the exquisite sensation.

Jungkook set a slower pace, his hips snapping forward with punishing force. Taehyung could only hold on to the alpha’s shoulders for support. His back sliding up the wall with the force of each thrust, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on the thin fabric of Jungkook’s scrubs . The sound of Jungkook’s hips slapping against Taehyung’s ass echoed across the rooftop, mingling with their wanton moans.

"Fuck," Jungkook panted, his fingers digging into Taehyung's hips & thighs hard enough to bruise. "So tight and hot. Gonna make you cum.”

“Ah, ngh, m’close,” Taehyung gasped, lost in a haze of pleasure. “So close.”

Jungkook angled his thrusts to hit Taehyung's prostate dead-on, sending the omega spiraling towards oblivion. Taehyung came with a shout, his cock pulsing untouched as he painted the thin layer of his scrubs with streaks of pearly white.

Jungkook followed him over the edge moments later, his knot swelling but not locking them together as he allowed himself to draw out their orgasms with a few more shallow thrusts.

They stayed like that for a long moment, panting and gasping as the aftershocks rippled through them.

Somewhere, a siren wailed three blocks away. Somewhere, a helicopter blinked in the distance. They moved like the city had made a pocket of time just large enough for them to get lost in and then find themselves again.

After, Taehyung rested his forehead against Jungkook’s shoulder and listened to the wind catch and slip. “Rules,” he said into fabric, smudging the word with a smile he couldn’t quite stop.

Jungkook’s hand tightened at his hip, brief and fierce. “I know.”

“Still a mistake?”

Jungkook didn’t answer. His breath stalled, started. He kissed Taehyung’s hair instead, a quiet, treacherous thing, then stepped away like he’d remembered how to breathe properly only by making distance.

The third time, they didn’t make it to a room.

A code blue had been called and then cancelled; adrenaline had nowhere to go. Taehyung found Jungkook in a darkened imaging corridor where the lightboxes threw ghosts across the walls. Cedar hit him first, then the hard line of Jungkook’s profile, the set of his mouth that said he’d just told a family a truth he wouldn’t wish on anyone.

“Hey,” Taehyung said, softer than he meant to.

Jungkook looked over like he’d been yanked from far away. The gold in his eyes was there and gone. “Don’t,” he said, even as he reached. Even as pulled Taehyung against him.

This kiss had edges. Desperation scraped. Taehyung took it and gave back enough to sand those edges down. There was no room to be careful—the corridor had no doors and the walls felt too close. But they found a sliver of shadow where the world thinned, and there in that imperfect shelter they let the hunger pull them under. Taehyung heard himself make a sound that would have embarrassed him anywhere else; Jungkook swallowed it and steadied him with a hand that was all command and all mercy.

He pinned Taehyung’s body to the wall with his own, the kiss moving from his lips to his neck and across his collar bones. It was desperate the way Jungkook turned Taehyung’s body and yanked his pants down just enough to see the curve of his ass whilst his own pants were pulled down by Taehyung’s slender hands, his rock-hard cock springing free.

It shouldn’t have made butterflies spring into Taehyung’s stomach yet it did. The thrusts were quick and hard. Jungkook’s hands on Taehyungs hips the only thing keeping him standing. And when their orgasms came, the two found themselves biting into each other’s flesh to stop their moans from echoing through the hallway.

The kiss following was gentler but still, it had its edges which neither could escape just yet. When they broke apart, Taehyung pressed his palm to Jungkook’s sternum and felt the hammering there. “You’re going to pretend this isn’t happening,” he said, not accusing, not quite.

“I’m going to keep you safe,” Jungkook said, and the combination of those words and that voice went through Taehyung like heat.

“From what?”

“Me,” Jungkook said simply, and walked away like he’d left something vital behind and couldn’t afford to turn back for it.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve - Again & Again & Again

After that, it became a pattern.

A text that wasn’t a text: Room 3.

A glance across the OR over sterile drapes, lightning caught between their eyes.

A half-smile Taehyung wasn’t meant to see when he presented a case without a seam to pull.

A hand that lingered a heartbeat too long when passing a clamp.

They were disciplined about the daylight: mentor and resident, sharp and bright and infuriatingly competent. Jungkook cut him down in conference when Taehyung missed a nuance; Taehyung answered with clean, fast thinking and a wit that left a ripple of poorly concealed smiles in their wake. Hoseok noticed, of course—his grin went sharp and fond whenever they were in the same room—and Jimin’s eyes narrowed with a familiarity that said he was counting breaths and glances and unsent messages. Yoongi said nothing at all, which in Yoongi’s language meant I see you; I am not ready to speak on it yet.

But night made its own rules.

On-call rooms. The hush of the cath lab at two in the morning. A stairwell with the weak light and the smell of dust, where Jungkook kissed him like penance and Taehyung kissed back like absolution. The elevator that stuck between floors for ninety seconds that stretched long enough for Jungkook to say Taehyung’s name like something he wasn’t meant to want and Taehyung to answer with, “Then don’t want it,” even as his fingers curled in Jungkook’s coat.

They learned each other with a care that didn’t match the secrecy. Jungkook learned that Taehyung laughed when he was startled, even in the dark, a burst of sound that broke tension clean through. Taehyung learned that Jungkook whispered apologies into the hollow of a throat when his control frayed and that he always found it again. Jungkook learned the places along Taehyung’s shoulder where a touch could slow his breathing back to human pace. Taehyung learned the quiet ways to anchor an Alpha: a palm at the nape, a word at the right pitch, the reminder you’re here; we’re both here.

Sometimes they fought first—a clash in a chart note, a correction that cut too close, Taehyung’s temper snapping, “If you wanted a mirror you should have asked the glass, not me,” and Jungkook answering with silence sharp enough to bleed on. Those nights burned hottest, the make-up threaded with argument that turned into laughter that turned into the kind of soft that both of them pretended they hadn’t felt when morning came.

They didn’t mark. They both knew what a bite meant and they both knew neither of them was ready to wear that truth on skin. But there were moments when Jungkook’s mouth hovered at the slope of Taehyung’s shoulder, breath shuddering, and Taehyung would go very still, wolf quiet, as if stillness might keep the world from cracking open. Jungkook always moved away with a sound like pain smoothed into control. Taehyung always pulled him back by the wrist and coaxed him into the present like light coaxing a room out of the dark.

Once, after a case that went wrong despite everything—the patient’s body simply refused the miracle they offered—Jungkook didn’t reach for Taehyung. He sat on the edge of the call room bed with his hands braced on his knees and stared at nothing.

Taehyung came and sat beside him without touching. After a long time he said, “You did everything you could.”

Jungkook’s jaw worked. “That’s what people say when they don’t understand ‘everything’ isn’t ever enough.”

Taehyung turned then, putting his palm over Jungkook’s knuckles, warm and firm. “I trained my whole life to read the map of a heart and I still can’t predict what it will choose. You taught me that. You teach me that every day.”

For the first time, Jungkook looked at him like the words had gone somewhere they weren’t meant to go and found the part of him that kept insisting he didn’t need them. He turned his hand and threaded their fingers for a breath, a single, treacherous breath, and Taehyung let the world tilt, just a little.

“Don’t make me soft,” Jungkook said, not quite pleading.

“Be sharp,” Taehyung murmured. “Just… don’t cut yourself to stay that way.”

They didn’t sleep that night. They didn’t talk much either. They moved slow, like each motion might wake a house full of ghosts. When dawn came, pale and unkind, Jungkook watched Taehyung button his coat and said, raw, “You deserve someone who doesn’t make you hide.”

Taehyung slid his hands into his pockets, the boxy shape of his smile a little lopsided, a little fierce. “Then stop making me hide.”

Jungkook didn’t answer. He kissed him instead, hard and swift and scandalous in the gray light, and then they went to rounds like men who hadn’t set fire to the night.

Weeks blurred. The pattern held—unspoken, undeniable. Taehyung worked, learned, argued, excelled. Jungkook pushed, corrected, demanded, protected. In public they circled: the cold star and the warm planet tugging each other’s orbits into new shapes. In private they collided and then pretended gravity hadn’t shifted.

And beneath all of it, something more dangerous than lust started to take root: the accumulation of small mercies. Jungkook left a protein bar by Taehyung’s charts on days he forgot to eat. Taehyung slipped a hand into the crook of Jungkook’s elbow when a nightmare’s aftershock made his breath stumble between cases. Jungkook began to ask, in a tone that pretended it didn’t care about the answer, “How is your grandmother?” and Taehyung learned the exact day in the week Jungkook always called his mother and never admitted he’d done it.

They were not together. They would have said it in chorus if asked. They were not anything that could survive the bright light of day. And yet—

Hoseok caught Taehyung staring at a whiteboard where Jungkook’s name bracketed a column of cases and said, too gently, “Careful, puppy.”

Taehyung startled. “Careful of what?”

“Of doing this without wanting the rest,” Hoseok said, then added with a grin to soften it, “Also careful of getting caught making moon eyes at the boss.”

“Moon eyes,” Taehyung muttered, but his ears warmed, and Hoseok’s hand squeezed his shoulder, and the day kept going.

Late that night, the pattern found them again: a text that wasn’t a text, a door that clicked shut, a breath that hitched into another name and then into silence. The scent of rain and cinnamon braided through the dim like a promise they refused to name. Their wolves settled with the kind of bone-deep contentment that has nothing to do with sense and everything to do with this, here, now.

When they lay catching breath, hearts stuttering back from the edge, Jungkook said, “We stop whenever you want.”

Taehyung turned his head on the pillow. “Do you want to stop?”

Jungkook stared at the ceiling. “I want,” he said, and then he didn’t finish the sentence.

Taehyung could have laughed it off. He could have made a joke and broken the moment into something safer. Instead he reached for Jungkook’s hand in the dark and twined their fingers again, just for a beat. “Okay,” he said. “Then… stay.”

Jungkook stayed until the pager screamed. In the morning he was back behind his mask, voice sharp, hands steady, the best surgeon in the hospital and the coldest star in its sky.

But that night—

and the next—

and the ones after—

the storm kept coming back to the same shore, and the shore kept yielding in the same soft, stubborn way.

The rules lay between them like a line scored into wet sand. And every tide erased it.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirteen – Cracks in the Walls

Rounds had stretched long that morning, every patient needing a little more time, a little more explanation. By the time the team reached the paediatrics wing for a post-op check, Taehyung’s brain felt like cotton.

He expected Jungkook to sweep in, deliver clipped updates, and move on. But instead, Jungkook crouched beside the bed where a small girl sat with her legs tucked under her blanket, clutching a battered wolf plush. Her scar was fresh, pink along the sternum, but her eyes were brighter than Taehyung expected.

“Good morning, So-mi,” Jungkook said softly. His voice dropped from command to comfort, warm in a way Taehyung had never heard directed at him. “How’s our champion today?”

The girl giggled. “Itchy.”

“That’s good. It means you’re healing.” Jungkook leaned forward conspiratorially. “Don’t tell the nurses, but when I was your age, I scratched my stitches and got caught. Worst scolding of my life.”

Her laughter rang out, small but triumphant. Jungkook smiled—real, unguarded. He adjusted her blanket carefully, making sure the IV line didn’t tug.

Taehyung stood frozen at the foot of the bed, watching something in his chest shift painfully. This wasn’t the Alpha who barked orders and cut him down in front of the team. This was someone softer. Someone who gave his time when he didn’t have it.

When they left the room, Taehyung fell into step behind him, still shaken. He wanted to say something, but the words tangled on his tongue.

Later, Taehyung found himself outside the surgeon’s lounge, voices carrying through the half-open door. He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but the sound of Yoongi’s familiar drawl rooted him in place.

“…You’re working yourself into the ground again,” Yoongi was saying.

Jungkook’s reply was low, tired. “That’s the job.”

“No,” Yoongi said flatly. “That’s your version of the job. There’s a difference.”

Silence stretched, then Jungkook sighed. “If I stop moving, the memories catch up.”

Taehyung’s chest clenched.

Yoongi’s tone softened, something rare. “You’ve been carrying that night for half your life, Kook. At some point you have to stop punishing yourself for surviving.”

“I can’t.”

“You can,” Yoongi insisted, quiet but firm. “And maybe—” There was a pause, and Taehyung swore he could feel Yoongi’s gaze flick toward the door. “Maybe you already have someone who could remind you how.”

The air went heavy, thick with things unspoken.

Taehyung stepped back quickly, heart racing. He didn’t hear Jungkook’s answer. He didn’t need to.

That night, over lukewarm stew in the cafeteria, Yoongi dropped into the seat beside him without asking. Jimin was off in the OR, Hoseok at the ER. It was just the two of them, and Yoongi’s quiet presence filled the space like a warm blanket.

“You’re close to him,” Taehyung said before he could stop himself.

Yoongi didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “We’ve been friends since we were boys. He saved me more times than I can count. I’ve saved him once or twice too.” His gummy smile flickered. “He’s not as cold as he acts.”

Taehyung fiddled with his spoon. “Does he let anyone see it?”

Yoongi’s gaze was steady, knowing. “Not often. But you’ve already seen more than most.”

The words lingered, sweet and dangerous.

Taehyung pretended to focus on his stew, but inside his wolf stirred, uneasy, because Yoongi was right. He had seen more—and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could pretend it didn’t matter.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen – Breaking Point

The week blurred into a haze of surgical rotations, overnight calls, and hospital bills piling on Taehyung’s desk at home. His grandmother’s latest admission had stretched their finances thin—again. He picked up every extra shift offered, every late-night chart, anything that could add a little more to the paycheck.

Jimin tried to stop him. “You can’t keep this up, Tae.”

“I have to,” Taehyung said, forcing a smile. “Halmeoni deserves the best care. I’ll sleep later.”

But later never came.

By Friday morning, he’d worked three nights with barely an hour between. His hands shook faintly when he held the retractor, his eyes burned from lack of sleep. He forced himself through rounds anyway, smile fixed, answers sharp. He told himself he could handle it.

Until his knees buckled in the middle of the cardiac wing.

The chart in his hands hit the floor with a slap. His vision went white, then black.

“Taehyung!” Hoseok’s voice cracked through the fog. Strong arms caught him before his body struck the linoleum. Nurses shouted. The world tilted.

The last thing he smelled before everything went dark was cedar and rain.

The prep room hummed with the usual chaos before surgery—monitors beeping, gowns rustling, nurses checking lines. Jungkook stood at the head of the table, eyes flicking to the chart in his hands.

“Where’s Dr. Kim?” he asked without looking up.

The senior resident shrugged. “Haven’t seen him.”

“He was supposed to assist on this case,” Jungkook said, his voice clipped. His eyes lifted, sweeping the room until they landed on Jimin, who stood frowning at his own notes. “Dr. Park.”

Jimin blinked. “Yes, sir?”

“Where is he?”

Jimin hesitated, and that hesitation was enough. Jungkook’s jaw tightened.

“He collapsed,” Jimin admitted quietly. “Earlier this morning. They moved him to recovery. He’s stable—just exhausted.”

The chart in Jungkook’s hand snapped shut. “Why wasn’t I told immediately?”

“You were in prep—”

“Prep doesn’t matter when my resident is lying in a hospital bed,” Jungkook cut sharply, storm already rising in his voice. He shoved the chart at the senior resident. “Scrub in without me. Dr. Park, cover.”

“But—”

“I said cover,” Jungkook growled, and the authority in his voice left no space for argument.

He was already moving, long strides cutting down the hall, cedar scent sharp and storm-thick.

When he pushed open the door to Taehyung’s room, he froze.

Jin sat at the bedside, immaculate even in scrubs, his handsome features softened by the way he brushed a damp curl from Taehyung’s forehead. The younger man lay pale, IV running, chest rising slow and even in sleep.

Jin looked up at the intrusion. His gaze sharpened.

“I didn’t realize you and Taehyung were close,” Jungkook said, his voice low but edged.

Jin’s mouth curved faintly, tired and wry. “Funny. I thought the same about you.”

The words landed like a challenge and a truth at once. Jungkook closed the door behind him and crossed the room, settling in the chair opposite Jin.

For a moment, the two men sat in silence, both watching Taehyung breathe.

Finally, Jin spoke. “He’s been carrying too much for too long. Our father didn’t give him anything. He shouldn’t have to bleed himself dry just to survive.”

Jungkook’s throat tightened. “He’s stubborn. He doesn’t ask for help.”

“Neither do you,” Jin said, his gaze cutting sharp. “Maybe that’s why you understand him.”

Jungkook looked at him then, startled. But Jin just leaned back, exhaling slowly. “Take care of him, Dr. Jeon. He won’t ask you to. But he needs someone.”

The words settled heavy between them. Jin stood, straightened his coat, and brushed Taehyung’s hair one last time before leaving the room.

The door clicked shut. Jungkook sank into the chair Jin had vacated, his eyes fixed on Taehyung’s sleeping face.

Taehyung stirred in the hospital bed, lashes fluttering. The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes were the bright lights of the hospital ceiling above him. The second thing, as he tried to sit up, was Jungkook. The effort to try and pull

himself into a sitting position made his chest heave, and before he could hide it, his wolf ears flickered into existence, soft and trembling.

Jungkook froze beside him, startled—but then his hand moved instinctively, smoothing over the curve of one ear with surprising gentleness. Taehyung’s breath hitched, embarrassed, and the ears vanished as quickly as they came.

Jungkook’s cedar scent softened, voice low. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

Taehyung tried to sit up again, but Jungkook pressed a firm hand to his chest. “Don’t.”

“Doctor—”

“You fainted from exhaustion,” Jungkook said flatly. “Your labs are fine, your heart’s fine, but you’ve been running yourself into the ground. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I…” Taehyung swallowed, shame crawling up his throat. “My grandmother’s bills. I needed the extra shifts.”

Jungkook’s eyes closed briefly, as if he could will patience into himself. When they opened again, the storm in them was gentled by something else. “Do you think she wants this? To see you like this?”

Taehyung’s eyes burned. “She’s all I have left.”

The silence that followed was thick. Jungkook’s hand lingered against his chest, the weight of it steady, grounding.

“You’re not alone,” Jungkook said finally. His voice was softer now, raw. “Stop carrying it like you are.”

Taehyung blinked up at him, startled by the words. “Why do you care?”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened. He looked away, as if the truth was dangerous to say aloud. “Because you’re mine to protect. As your attending.”

Taehyung gave a faint, hoarse laugh. “You don’t protect residents. You break them.”

Jungkook’s gaze snapped back to him, fierce and unflinching. “You’re not like the others.”

Taehyung’s heart stuttered.

The moment stretched, full of things neither dared to say. Finally, Jungkook pulled his hand back, folding it tightly in his lap. “Rest. That’s an order.”

But Taehyung had already seen the crack in his armor—the way his voice trembled, the way his wolf’s cedar scent had wrapped thick around him like shelter.

And for the first time, Taehyung wondered if maybe Jungkook was the one who needed protecting, too.

The Kim family’s penthouse overlooked the Han River, glass walls catching the city lights like a crown. It smelled of leather, whiskey, and dominance—an Alpha’s den in every sense.

Jin stood just inside the vast living room, his white coat folded over one arm, his scrubs still wrinkled from hours in the trauma bay. His father, CEO of Samsung, poured a glass of amber liquor with the practiced ease of a man who had never known the taste of fatigue.

“You called me here,” Jin said, voice clipped.

“I heard your half-brother collapsed at the hospital,” their father said without looking up. His tone was cool, dismissive. “Embarrassing. I warned you years ago—bastards always turn out weak.”

Jin’s jaw locked. “He isn’t weak. He’s working himself into the ground because no one else ever gave him the chance to stand on solid ground.”

“Not my problem,” the elder Kim replied, swirling his glass. “He should’ve known his place.”

“My place,” Jin snapped, stepping forward, “is beside him. Not standing here pretending your cruelty is wisdom.”

For the first time, their father’s gaze flicked up, sharp and hard. “Careful, Seokjin. You’re speaking to the man who built everything you stand on.”

“No,” Jin said, voice firm, steady. “I built myself. Namjoon believes in me, my colleagues respect me, and Taehyung—” His throat tightened, but he forced the words through. “Taehyung is my brother. And I will not let you erase him anymore.”

The silence that followed was heavy. His father’s jaw worked, eyes narrowing. “You’ve grown insolent.”

“I’ve grown free,” Jin corrected. He set his coat down, lifted his chin. “Taehyung belongs to this family whether you acknowledge it or not. And if you can’t see that, then the failure is yours, not his.”

He didn’t wait for a reply. The glass in his father’s hand clinked as Jin turned and walked out, his wolf’s cocoa-sweet scent lingering defiantly in the air.

Back at the hospital, Jin found Namjoon waiting by the elevators, arms folded, dimples softened by worry.

“Well?” Namjoon asked.

Jin exhaled, shoulders loosening as he stepped into the Alpha’s presence, grounding himself in the scent of earth after rain. “I told him the truth.”

Namjoon’s hand brushed his, quiet and steady. “And?”

Jin’s smile was faint but fierce. “And it felt like cutting out a tumor. Painful, but necessary.”

Namjoon’s dimples deepened. “Then you did right.”

Jin looked back toward Taehyung’s room, where the younger man slept with Jungkook’s scent faint in the air. His chest ached, but it was steadier now.

“I won’t let him grow up thinking he’s alone anymore,” Jin said softly. “Not while I’m here.”

Namjoon’s arm slid around his shoulders. Together, they walked toward the ward.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fifteen – Fault Lines

Taehyung returned to the ward after only two days of rest. His color was better, his gait steady, but the shadows under his eyes hadn’t faded.

Jungkook noticed immediately.

“You shouldn’t be here yet,” Jungkook said flatly as Taehyung joined morning rounds.

“I’m fine,” Taehyung replied, his tone calm, defiant. “The labs are clear. No restrictions. I’m not going to fall apart because I missed a meal.”

Jungkook’s eyes narrowed. “You fainted in the middle of the cardiac wing. That’s not nothing.”

“Patients don’t wait for me to nap.”

“Patients die if their doctors collapse mid-procedure,” Jungkook snapped. The team glanced between them nervously, pretending to check charts.

Taehyung held his ground, boxy smile just sharp enough to bite. “Then you should’ve let me rest longer instead of keeping me up all night last week.”

The words slipped out, heavier than he meant. The silence that followed was sharp, loaded. Jungkook’s eyes flickered—storm-dark, flashing gold for a heartbeat before the mask snapped back down.

“Dr. Kim,” he said tightly. “Step into the consult room. Now.”

The door shut behind them, the small space closing in. Taehyung crossed his arms, chin lifted. “If you’re going to scold me, get it over with.”

“This isn’t a scolding,” Jungkook said, low and fierce. “This is me telling you that if you keep pushing yourself like this, you’ll break. And I can’t—” He stopped himself, breath catching.

“You can’t what?” Taehyung asked, softer now, eyes searching his.

Jungkook’s hands flexed at his sides. “I can’t… watch that happen again.”

The words landed heavy, raw, unguarded. Jungkook’s wolf prowled close, cedar scent thickening in the air.

Taehyung’s throat tightened. “Again?”

Jungkook’s jaw locked. He turned away, as though the walls themselves might hold his secret in place. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you take care of yourself. You think you’re strong enough to carry everything alone, but you’re not. No one is.”

Taehyung stepped closer, voice low. “And what about you? You act like nothing can touch you. Like you’re untouchable. But you’re not, are you?”

Jungkook’s breath stuttered. For a moment, the mask slipped—just a flicker, a crack in the armor. His eyes caught Taehyung’s, and there was no cold in them at all. Only heat. Only fear. Only want.

“Don’t,” Jungkook whispered, voice breaking. “Don’t pull at that thread.”

“Then stop pretending you don’t feel it,” Taehyung whispered back.

The air between them burned. Jungkook’s hand twitched like he wanted to reach for him, like instinct was dragging him forward. But then his pager shrilled, slicing the moment apart.

Jungkook tore his gaze away, storm scent curdled sharp with frustration. “We’re needed in OR two,” he said curtly, voice once again cold.

He pushed past, leaving Taehyung standing in the consult room, heart pounding, wolf restless.

The fault line had cracked wide open. And it was only a matter of time before the whole wall came down.

The residents’ lounge was unusually quiet that evening, a lull between emergencies. Jimin had been called into an appendectomy, Hoseok was buried in the ER, and Taehyung sat with his chin propped on his hand, staring at notes he wasn’t reading.

The door creaked open, and Yoongi stepped in with a tray balanced in one hand. He set down two steaming cups of vending-machine coffee on the table, then lowered himself into the chair opposite Taehyung.

“You look like a ghost,” Yoongi said mildly.

Taehyung sighed. “Thanks, hyung. That helps.”

Yoongi’s gummy smile flickered. “Drink.”

Taehyung wrapped his hands around the paper cup, letting the heat sink into his palms. For a while, neither spoke. Yoongi had a gift for silence that didn’t press, silence that simply made space.

Finally, Taehyung whispered, “I think I’m in trouble.”

Yoongi tilted his head. “The kind with charts? Or the kind with hearts?”

Taehyung’s throat tightened. He looked down into his coffee. “Both.”

Yoongi leaned back, folding his arms. “Say it.”

The words stuck, heavy and dangerous, but they pressed free anyway. “I… I can’t stop thinking about him. Even when he’s cold, even when he cuts me down in the OR. Especially then, maybe. It’s like every time he looks at me, I feel—” He broke off, shaking his head. “It’s stupid.”

“Not stupid,” Yoongi said simply.

Taehyung glanced up, startled.

Yoongi’s gaze was steady, soft. “Jungkook isn’t easy. He’s built walls taller than this hospital, and most people never see over them. But you… you’ve already seen through the cracks.”

Taehyung swallowed hard. “And what if I fall? What if he doesn’t catch me?”

Yoongi’s smile turned bittersweet. “Then you’ll stand back up. You’re stronger than you think. But—” He leaned forward slightly, his voice gentler now. “I’ve known him since we were boys. And I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you.”

Taehyung’s heart stuttered. “He looks at me like I’m a thorn in his side.”

“Maybe,” Yoongi said. “But he keeps coming back to the thorn, doesn’t he?”

The silence stretched, heavy with meaning. Taehyung’s wolf pressed close, uneasy but hopeful.

Yoongi reached across the table, resting his hand briefly over Taehyung’s. “Just remember, loving him won’t be simple. But simple isn’t always what we need.”

Taehyung’s chest ached, but his lips curved faintly. “When did you get so wise, hyung?”

Yoongi’s gummy smile bloomed, soft and tired. “Too many nights watching stubborn alphas destroy themselves. Someone has to talk sense into them—and into the omegas who fall for them.”

Taehyung laughed weakly, the knot in his chest loosening just a little.

For the first time, admitting the truth didn’t feel like drowning. It felt like breathing, even if the air was sharp.

The OR lights blazed hot, casting sterile shadows across the field. The surgery—a coronary bypass—had been running for hours. The patient’s blood pressure wavered, the graft proved stubborn, and tension wound tight through every member of the team.

“Retract,” Jungkook ordered, his voice clipped.

Taehyung adjusted the retractor.

“Not like that,” Jungkook snapped, sharper this time. “Angle it down, not up. Do you want to tear the tissue?”

Taehyung’s jaw clenched. He shifted, correcting. “Like this?”

Jungkook’s eyes flicked to him, storm-dark. “Finally.”

The word landed heavy, humiliation curling hot in Taehyung’s chest. He bit his tongue, focusing on the steady rhythm of suction and suture, but his wolf bristled.

When the final stitch was tied and the chest closed, Jungkook stripped off his gloves with a snap. “You’re dismissed, Dr. Kim.”

Taehyung ripped his mask off, breath sharp. “You can’t keep treating me like I’m useless.”

Jungkook froze. The other staff melted away quickly, sensing danger. Only the two of them remained, locked in the charged silence of the empty OR.

“You think this is about uselessness?” Jungkook growled.

Taehyung’s chest heaved. “Then what is it about? Because every time I try, you cut me down. Every time I prove myself, you pretend you don’t see it. What do you want from me?”

The words echoed, raw and unguarded. Jungkook’s wolf pressed close to the surface, gold flickering in his eyes. His cedar scent thickened, filling the room with storm and earth.

“What I want,” Jungkook said, voice rough, “is impossible.”

Taehyung stepped forward, defiant even with his heart hammering. “Say it.”

“Don’t push me, Taehyung.”

“Then stop running from it.”

The air between them burned. Jungkook’s hand twitched, like he might reach for him, like instinct might finally win. His wolf’s growl rumbled low in his chest, vibrating the space between them.

For a heartbeat, Taehyung thought he would say it. That the words were right there, pressed against Jungkook’s teeth.

But then Jungkook tore his gaze away, spun on his heel, and slammed out of the OR, storm scent trailing sharp in his wake.

Taehyung stood rooted to the floor, chest aching, wolf restless and unsatisfied.

The slip had been close. Too close.

And next time, he knew, there might not be enough control left to stop it.

Chapter Text

Chapter Sixteen – The Heat of Truth

It started subtly.

At first, Taehyung chalked it up to exhaustion: the flushed cheeks, the way his scrubs clung damp against his back, the way every scent in the hospital seemed louder, sharper. His grandmother’s illness weighed heavy, and he’d barely been sleeping. That had to be it.

But then Jimin frowned at him during lunch. “You okay, Tae? You’re pale. And sweating.”

“I’m fine,” Taehyung said quickly, sipping water. “Just tired.”

“You’re due for heat soon, aren’t you?” Hoseok teased, sliding into the seat beside him with his usual grin. “You’re radiating like a radiator.”

Taehyung laughed weakly, brushing it off. “Not for another two weeks.”

But even as he said it, his wolf shifted uneasily beneath his skin.

Two days later, he was scrubbed in beside Jungkook during an aortic valve replacement when the world tilted. His vision blurred, heat flooding his veins like wildfire. The retractor slipped in his hand.

“Dr. Kim.” Jungkook’s voice was sharp.

Taehyung blinked hard, trying to focus. The OR lights felt like suns, beating down on his skin. His knees buckled, and suddenly his back was against the wall, sliding down until he was nearly on the floor.

The monitors beeped steadily, the patient still stable, but the room froze.

“Everyone stop,” Jungkook barked. His Alpha tone cracked like thunder, making the entire team still instantly. He turned toward Taehyung, storm-dark eyes fierce. “Are you all right?”

“I—I’m fine,” Taehyung stammered, his voice unconvincing. “I just need to step out.”

Jungkook’s gaze flicked over him—pale face, trembling hands, scent starting to spike with sweetness sharp enough to cut. His jaw tightened. He couldn’t leave the open chest on the table, but his wolf howled at him to go to Taehyung.

He turned to a nurse. “Get him to an on-call room. Now. Don’t leave him alone.”

Taehyung managed a weak nod, let the nurse guide him out. His wolf keened softly inside him, unsatisfied, restless.

By the time Jungkook finished the case and stripped out of his gloves, his storm scent was sharp with frustration. He didn’t wait for the post-op report; he went straight to the on-call rooms.

When he opened the door, Taehyung was curled on the bed, arms wrapped around himself, sweat-damp hair plastered to his forehead. His cinnamon scent was everywhere, cloying and sweet, thick with need.

Jungkook froze. “Taehyung.”

The younger man looked up, eyes glassy. “It’s too early,” he whispered, voice breaking. “My heat—it’s not supposed to be yet.”

Jungkook swore under his breath. He stepped closer, the cedar in his scent instinctively trying to ground Taehyung’s spiraling wolf. “You need to go home. You can’t ride this out here.”

Taehyung shook his head violently. “I live with my grandmother. She’s too fragile—I can’t have her see me like this. I can’t worry her.”

Jungkook stood frozen, fists clenched, storm crashing inside him. He should leave. He should call someone else. But the thought of Taehyung suffering alone—of his grandmother stumbling on him like this—made his wolf snarl in protest.

Without another word, Jungkook turned and strode out. Taehyung’s chest ached. For a moment, he thought he’d been abandoned.

But minutes later, Jungkook returned, expression set, arms steady as he scooped Taehyung off the bed.

“J-Jungkook—”

“Quiet,” Jungkook growled, carrying him effortlessly down the hall. “You’re coming with me.”

The drive was a blur. Taehyung half-dozed in the passenger seat, heat curling hot and sharp through his veins, Jungkook’s cedar scent filling the car like rain through open windows.

When they pulled up, Taehyung blinked through the haze. The house was huge, modern glass and steel nestled against thick trees, floor-to-ceiling windows gleaming. It looked like it belonged on the edge of the world.

Jungkook carried him inside, through the wide open-plan kitchen and lounge, up the sweeping stairs. He paused at the spare room, but something in him resisted. With a tight jaw, he turned instead toward his own.

The bedroom was large but warm—dark wood floors, pale linens, the faint scent of cedar woven deep into the sheets. Jungkook set Taehyung down gently, then rummaged for loose clothing.

“Here,” he said, helping Taehyung out of his sweat-soaked scrubs.

Taehyung flushed, trembling. “This is embarrassing.”

Jungkook’s lips quirked faintly, despite the tension in his jaw. “I’ve seen you naked before.”

Taehyung huffed a weak laugh. “Not like this.”

The smile faded as another wave of heat doubled him over, a broken sound slipping free. Jungkook’s chest tightened.

“Taehyung,” he said hoarsely. “If I stay, I don’t know if I can—”

Taehyung’s glassy eyes found his, fierce through the haze. “I don’t want you to leave.”

Jungkook swore softly. “Are you on birth control?”

“Yes,” Taehyung whispered. “Always. I’m safe. I promise.”

The last wall in Jungkook’s chest cracked. He cupped Taehyung’s face, thumb brushing damp curls from his temple. “Then tell me to stop, and I will.”

Taehyung’s lips parted, a shaky smile flickering. “Don’t stop.”

What followed was nothing like the hurried, desperate encounters in on-call rooms. This was slower. Deeper. Jungkook moved with care, every touch steadying as much as it ignited.

Jungkook leaned down, his lips capturing Taehyung's in a deep, claiming kiss. Taehyung moaned into his mouth, his body pressing against Jungkook's, seeking more.

His cedar scent wrapped around Taehyung’s sweetness, blanketing his wolf, coaxing it calm even as the heat raged.

He trailed kisses down Taehyung's neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Taehyung's head fell back, exposing more of his neck to Jungkook's ministrations. Jungkook's hand wrapped around his cock, his thumb brushing over the sensitive tip. Taehyung's hips bucked, a soft moan escaping his lips. Jungkook's other hand moved to Taehyung's ass, his fingers teasing the tight hole as a whimper escaped from Taehyung’s already red lips.

"Relax, Taehyung," Jungkook murmured, his voice low and soothing. "I've got you."

Taehyung's body almost instantly relaxed, his trust in Jungkook evident. Jungkook's fingers continued to tease, slowly pushing into Taehyung's tight hole. Taehyung's body tensed again, a loud moan escaping his lips. Jungkook's fingers moved in and out, stretching Taehyung, preparing him for what was to come.

When Taehyung's first orgasm hit him, Jungkook continued to press soft kisses to his neck, easing him through the ecstasy, the relief. After a moment, Jungkook's fingers slowly pulled out of from inside him, his mouth moving to Taehyung's neck. He trailed kisses up Taehyung's neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

Taehyung's body shivered, a soft moan escaping his lips. Jungkook's hands moved to his hips, his cock pressing against Taehyung's rim. Taehyung's body tensed in anticipation.

“I’ve got you.” Jungkook murmured again, his voice low and soothing. And Taehyung melted into Jungkook’s hold, sighing as Jungkook's cock finally pushed into him. A soft moan echoed between their lips as Jungkook reconnected them.

Jungkook's hips moved steady but firm with each thrust. Taehyung’s pleasured noises erupted louder, his thighs tightening around Jungkook’s hips. “Please, a-‘alpha.” Taehyung moaned out, his orgasm building deliciously.

“Come on baby. Cum for me.” Jungkook responded. His hips moved faster, his cock moved harder. Taehyung's body convulsed, his orgasm tearing through him. And within a few second, Jungkook fell over the edge with him. “Oh, God.” Taehyung sighed. His body finally cooling down, even if only for a moment.

“You okay?” Jungkook panted.

“Mmhm, you?” Taehyung didn’t hear Jungkook respond but he felt his head nod against his shoulder. And Taehyung clung to him, gasps breaking into his mouth, body softening under the Alpha’s steady strength.

For every tremor, Jungkook soothed. For every wave of need, he steadied him through it.And when the fire ebbed, Jungkook stayed. He bathed him gently, coaxed food into him, held him when the heat rose again in the middle of the night. Taehyung’s hands clutched at his shirt, his voice breaking. “Please.”

Jungkook never left.

By dawn, Taehyung slept deeply for the first time in days, wolf quiet at last, his head tucked against Jungkook’s chest.

Jungkook stared at the ceiling, heart pounding. His hand brushed through soft curls, lingering.

It should’ve been just instinct. Just biology. But the truth pressed against his ribs, undeniable.

It wasn’t just need.

It was want.

The world after heat always felt muted.

Taehyung woke to pale sunlight streaming through tall windows, the quiet rustle of leaves outside, and the faint hum of cedar still clinging to the sheets. His body felt boneless, warm, sated. His wolf lay calm inside him for the first time in days.

But his heart—his heart was chaos.

He rolled onto his side, watching the rise and fall of Jungkook’s chest where the Alpha sat dozing in a chair, still in the same T-shirt from the night before. His dark hair fell across his forehead, his strong jaw slackened in sleep. Even exhausted, he radiated control.

Taehyung’s throat tightened. He remembered every moment—Jungkook’s steady hands, his murmured reassurances, the way he hadn’t left even when Taehyung begged for him in the middle of the night.

It should have been humiliating.

It should have been just biology.

But instead, it felt like something he’d wanted—craved—even outside of the heat.

That truth terrified him.

He slipped quietly from the bed, dressing in the loose clothes Jungkook had lent him. When he moved toward the door, Jungkook stirred.

“You’re awake,” Jungkook murmured, voice rough with sleep.

Taehyung froze. “Yeah. I should—I should get back to the hospital.”

“You should rest,” Jungkook corrected, sitting up. His gaze softened despite the dark circles under his eyes. “You burned through your body. One more day here won’t kill you.”

“I can’t,” Taehyung said quickly. “If I miss more shifts—people will talk.”

Jungkook’s jaw clenched. “Let them talk.”

Taehyung shook his head, boxy smile brittle. “Easy for you to say.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy with everything they weren’t saying.

Finally, Jungkook stood. His storm scent pulsed, sharp and unsettled. “What happened last night—it was your heat. Instinct. Nothing more.”

The words cut, sharper than any reprimand. Taehyung forced a nod, even as his wolf whimpered inside. “Of course.”

Jungkook looked away. “I’ll drive you back.”

At the hospital, the routine swallowed them again. Charts, rounds, cases. Jungkook barked orders with his usual steel, and Taehyung answered with sharp precision, the mask back in place.

But beneath the surface, the wolves stirred.

Jimin caught him yawning in the lounge, his cheeks still faintly flushed. “You okay, Tae? You’ve been… off.”

“I’m fine,” Taehyung said, too fast.

Jimin’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t press. Instead, he reached out and squeezed Taehyung’s shoulder. “Just don’t burn yourself out again, okay?”

Taehyung nodded, but his chest ached. Because it wasn’t exhaustion this time. It was want. It was need. It was Jungkook’s scent still tangled in his skin no matter how many times he showered.

And every time their eyes met across the OR table, he knew Jungkook felt it too—whether he admitted it or not.

Chapter Text

Chapter Seventeen – Fractures

The case was supposed to be routine: a double bypass, standard for their team. But nothing about the atmosphere in the OR felt routine.

Taehyung’s movements were precise, efficient, but his scent was restless under the sterile air, cinnamon threaded with unease. Jungkook’s cedar scent was sharper than usual, storm rolling just beneath his skin.

“Clamp,” Jungkook ordered.

Taehyung passed it. Their fingers brushed—just a graze, nothing more—but the jolt it sent through both of them was sharp enough to sting.

“Focus, Dr. Kim,” Jungkook snapped, harsher than needed.

Taehyung’s jaw tightened. “I am focused.”

“Not enough,” Jungkook shot back. “You’re distracted. If you can’t keep your head, step out.”

The words were too sharp, too public. Nurses glanced at each other, the room suddenly tense. Taehyung’s wolf bristled, pride burning hot.

“I won’t step out,” he said tightly. “I’m your resident. I belong here.”

Their eyes locked over the sterile field. For a second, it was a battle of wills more than a surgery. Then Jungkook tore his gaze away, muttering, “Suture,” and the case pressed on.

But the fracture was there.

Afterward, Taehyung found him in the scrub room, scrubbing his hands like he could scour away the tension.

“You didn’t have to humiliate me in there,” Taehyung said, voice low but shaking with anger.

Jungkook froze. Water streamed over his hands. “You were sloppy.”

“I wasn’t,” Taehyung snapped. “You just can’t stand that I’m good enough to challenge you.”

Jungkook’s head whipped up, eyes flashing. “You think this is about ego? About me needing to win?” His voice rose, storm scent crashing thick into the air. “This is about keeping you alive. Keeping you safe. You think I don’t notice when you’re trembling? When you push yourself until you break? You think I don’t—”

He cut himself off, breath heaving.

Taehyung stepped closer, wolf pressing forward, eyes burning. “Don’t what, Jungkook?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Don’t care?”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Jungkook’s hands flexed at his sides, cedar scent spiking.

“Damn it, Taehyung,” Jungkook muttered, and then he broke.

He grabbed Taehyung by the collar and crushed their mouths together.

The kiss was nothing like the hurried, stolen ones of before. It was raw, desperate, a confession in every bruising press of lips. Taehyung gasped, then melted into it, hands fisting in Jungkook’s scrubs, pulling him closer. Their wolves surged, relief pouring through the bond neither of them wanted to name.

When they finally broke apart, breathless, Jungkook’s forehead pressed against Taehyung’s. His voice was ragged. “This can’t keep happening.”

Taehyung’s lips curved, soft and sad. “Then why does it feel like it has to?”

Jungkook had no answer. Only the taste of cinnamon still clinging to his mouth, and the knowledge that the fracture between them was only widening.

The storm between them lingered for days after the kiss. They spoke only what was necessary in the OR, both of them hiding behind professionalism, though their wolves prowled restless beneath their skin.

Then came the call. A weekend heart follow-up, a routine check Jungkook insisted on doing himself, though any attending could have handled it. He invited Taehyung along without explanation.

Taehyung expected another hospital ward. He didn’t expect the quiet street on the edge of the city, or the modest house tucked behind cherry trees.

When Jungkook unlocked the door, the scent hit Taehyung first—not cedar, not storm, but lavender and warm broth. A mother’s scent.

“Jungkook?” A woman’s voice floated from the kitchen.

“Eomma,” Jungkook called back. His voice softened in a way Taehyung had never heard. “It’s me.”

She appeared in the doorway—graying hair pulled into a bun, eyes bright with warmth. Her smile widened when she saw Taehyung. “And you brought a friend?”

Taehyung bowed quickly, flustered. “Kim Taehyung, ma’am. I’m one of his residents.”

“Resident?” she repeated with delight, ushering them inside. “Then you must be very clever. Jungkook doesn’t tolerate anyone who isn’t.”

“Eomma,” Jungkook muttered, ears pink.

Taehyung’s lips curved. He had never seen Jungkook blush.

They sat at the kitchen table as his mother ladled out bowls of steaming doenjang jjigae. The space was small but warm—family photos on the walls, herbs hanging to dry, the faint sound of a radio playing old trot songs.

Jungkook’s mask slipped here, bit by bit. He listened to his mother’s chatter with fond patience, even teased her once about her heavy hand with salt. When she asked about his schedule, his shoulders hunched—not with pride, but with guilt.

“You’ve been working too much again,” she scolded gently. “You need rest, Jungkook-ah.”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, eyes down.

Taehyung watched the way his hand tightened around his spoon, the guilt in his gaze. He remembered Yoongi’s words: If I stop moving, the memories catch up.

After lunch, his mother fussed them into taking leftovers. “For the resident, too,” she insisted, packing an extra container for Taehyung. “You’re all too thin.”

Taehyung bowed again, warmth curling in his chest. “Thank you, ma’am.”

She patted his arm with a smile. “Take care of my son, hmm? He won’t admit it, but he needs people.”

When she disappeared back into the kitchen, Taehyung turned to Jungkook, unable to stop himself. “She adores you.”

Jungkook’s jaw worked. “I don’t visit enough.” His voice was tight, guilty. “I remind her too much of Appa.”

Taehyung’s chest ached. “She looked happy to see you.”

Jungkook’s eyes flicked to him then, storm-dark and unguarded for just a heartbeat.

The silence between them grew heavier as they walked back to the car, the air thick with everything left unsaid.

Taehyung’s wolf pressed close, hopeful, but his heart twisted. He wanted more of the man he’d seen in that kitchen—the son, the caretaker, the man who laughed softly at his mother’s jokes.

But the kiss still burned between them. The heat, the nights in Jungkook’s bed, the confession hidden in every touch.

When Jungkook started the engine, neither spoke. The city lights flickered across their faces as they drove in silence.

At last, Taehyung whispered, “We can’t keep doing this.”

Jungkook’s grip on the wheel tightened. “I know.”

“But…” Taehyung’s throat closed. “I don’t want to stop.”

The admission hung in the air, raw and trembling. Jungkook’s storm scent spiked, sharp with longing and fear.

They drove the rest of the way without another word, both of them scared—scared of what it meant if they kept pulling closer, and even more scared of what it would mean if they forced themselves apart.

Chapter Text

Chapter Eighteen – The Test

The weeks after Taehyung’s heat blurred into something almost unfamiliar: peace.

For the first time since his residency began, Jungkook wasn’t constantly cutting him down. Their exchanges in the OR were sharp still, but sharpened like polished steel, not jagged edges. Jungkook corrected, Taehyung adjusted, and together their hands moved like clockwork.

During rounds, Taehyung caught Jungkook watching him sometimes—not with irritation, but with something softer, like reluctant pride. And once, when Taehyung soothed a child who was terrified of the IV line, Jungkook didn’t say a word. He just stood there, arms folded, watching with a look Taehyung couldn’t decipher but felt down to his bones.

In the cafeteria one afternoon, Taehyung handed Jungkook an extra can of coffee from the vending machine. “You always forget.”

Jungkook hesitated before taking it. “Thank you.” The words were gruff, but Taehyung swore his ears went a little pink.

It was small things—tiny, dangerous cracks in the walls between them.

And that’s what made the sudden nausea all the more terrifying.

It started as queasiness after long surgeries, the kind he could explain away with exhaustion. But then came the mornings—violent sickness that left him pale and sweating, clutching the sink until his grandmother knocked worriedly at the bathroom door.

By the third day, fear gnawed at him. His heat. Jungkook.

It shouldn’t have been possible—he was on birth control, always careful. But his hands trembled as he bought the test at a corner pharmacy, tucked it deep in his bag like contraband.

In the bathroom, Taehyung stared at the two pink lines, his hands shaking. A sob escaped before he could stop it, and his wolf ears appeared, curling forward as though trying to comfort him. He pressed both hands over them, but the tremble

gave him away.

He sank onto the edge of his bed, staring at the plastic stick in his hand until his vision blurred. His wolf whimpered inside him, confused, frightened, protective.

“I can’t,” Taehyung whispered to himself. “Not now.”

But the truth stared back at him anyway.

He was pregnant.

The first person he told was Jimin.

They sat on a bench in the hospital garden, the city humming faintly beyond the trees. Taehyung’s hands twisted in his lap, the test stick heavy in his pocket.

“Jiminie,” he said, voice trembling. “I… I think I’m pregnant.”

Jimin froze mid-bite of his sandwich. “What?” His eyes widened, searching Taehyung’s face. “Tae—are you sure?”

Taehyung nodded, biting his lip hard. “I took the test. Twice.”

For a moment, Jimin just stared. Then he put the sandwich down and pulled Taehyung into a tight hug. “Oh, Tae…”

Taehyung’s shoulders shook. “What am I going to do? I can’t—residency is hard enough. Halmeoni is sick. And Jungkook—” His voice cracked. “Jungkook doesn’t even want me. Not really. It was just instinct.”

Jimin cupped his face, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Listen to me. You are not alone in this. I don’t care if I have to work double shifts, I’ll be here. And Jungkook—” His jaw tightened. “He deserves to know. Whether he’s ready or not.”

Taehyung swallowed, nodding shakily.

That night, he told Yoongi.

They sat in the on-call lounge, the hum of vending machines the only sound. Taehyung held the test in his hand, staring at the faint pink lines.

Yoongi was quiet for a long time after Taehyung told him. Then he sighed, soft but firm, and set a hand on Taehyung’s knee.

“Don’t let anyone tell you this is something to be ashamed of,” he said. “You want this baby? Then you stand firm. And if Jungkook has even half the heart I think he does, he’ll stand with you.”

Taehyung’s throat closed. “But what if he doesn’t?”

“Then you’ll still have me. And Jimin. And Jin. You’re not alone, Tae. Not anymore.”

Still, Taehyung found himself terrified of what might come of all this. He let out a shaky breath, not even realising his wolf ears had appeared amongst his curls again until Yoongi reached out, brushing his hair back to reveal the faint flicker of

them. “Your wolf already knows,” Yoongi murmured. “It’s protecting you because your heart’s already made its choice.”

But had he?

Jin found out accidentally, when Taehyung ducked into the staff bathroom mid-rounds to be sick. Jin followed him, concern etched across his face.

“You’ve been pale all week,” Jin said softly, handing him a damp cloth. “This isn’t just fatigue.”

Taehyung looked at him, eyes wet, lips trembling. “Hyung…”

Jin froze, realization dawning. “You’re pregnant.”

Taehyung pressed the cloth to his face, unable to deny it.

Jin’s hand shook as it gripped his shoulder, but his voice was steady. “Then you have me. Whatever you need. Whatever happens, you have me.”

Taehyung broke then, leaning into the brother he had spent so many years apart from. For the first time, he felt that bond—not just by blood, but by choice.

Jungkook noticed the distance.

Taehyung avoided his gaze in the OR, his sharp retorts dulled. When Jungkook brushed his hand in passing, Taehyung flinched like the touch burned.

“Dr. Kim,” Jungkook said one evening after rounds. “You’ve been off lately. Sick. Distracted. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Taehyung said too quickly, shoving his chart into his bag. “Just tired.”

Jungkook studied him, storm scent sharp with worry. “If something’s wrong—”

“I said I’m fine,” Taehyung snapped, voice too sharp. He fled before Jungkook could answer.

Left standing in the empty hallway, Jungkook’s hand curled into a fist. His wolf snarled in confusion, restless, aching. But fear coiled tighter than instinct: fear that pressing would break what fragile thing they had built.

Three nights later, Jungkook answered a knock at his front door.

Taehyung stood there, pale under the porch light, curls damp from rain. His eyes were wide, uncertain, his hands trembling as they clutched the strap of his bag.

“Taehyung?” Jungkook’s voice softened instinctively. “What are you—”

“I’m pregnant,” Taehyung blurted, the words tumbling out before he lost his nerve.

The silence that followed was absolute.

Jungkook’s world tilted, cedar scent spiking sharp in the air. His wolf surged, stunned, protective, terrified.

And Taehyung—his wolf pressed low, heart hammering, waiting to see whether Jungkook would pull him close or push him away.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nineteen – Confessions

Rain pattered against the tall windows of Jungkook’s house, the sound filling the silence that followed Taehyung’s words.

I’m pregnant.

Jungkook stared at him as though the ground had been ripped out from under him. His storm scent flared, cedar sharp and unsettled, filling the entryway until Taehyung’s wolf pressed low with instinctive nerves.

“How long have you known?” Jungkook asked finally, his voice low, rough.

Taehyung’s fingers twisted in the strap of his bag. “A week.”

“A week.” Jungkook’s jaw tightened. “And you didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t know how,” Taehyung whispered. His throat burned. “You keep saying this is nothing—that it was just instinct. How was I supposed to walk up to you and say by the way, I’m carrying your child?”

Jungkook flinched, eyes closing briefly as though struck. His hands curled into fists at his sides.

“Come inside,” he said at last, voice taut.

Taehyung followed him into the living room, where the storm-colored sky outside cast long shadows across the floor-to-ceiling windows. They sat opposite each other—Jungkook on the couch, Taehyung on the edge of the armchair, both too tense to breathe.

“Have you… confirmed it?” Jungkook asked after a long silence.

Taehyung nodded. “Two tests. And I told Jimin. Yoongi. Jin.” His lips twisted faintly. “You’re the last to know.”

Something sharp flashed in Jungkook’s eyes. “Why them and not me?”

“Because I was afraid,” Taehyung said, voice cracking. “Afraid you’d tell me to get rid of it. Afraid you’d say I was just another mistake.”

The words landed heavy. Jungkook leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped so tightly his knuckles whitened.

“Do you want to keep it?” he asked quietly.

Taehyung froze. His wolf stirred, protective, aching. “I… I don’t know,” he admitted. “Part of me wants to. Because it’s mine. Because it’s… ours.” His eyes blurred with tears. “But part of me is terrified. I’m only a first-year resident. My grandmother needs me. I can barely take care of myself, let alone a child.”

Jungkook’s chest ached at the sound of his voice breaking.

“There are options,” Jungkook said carefully, though his wolf snarled at the words. “You don’t have to go through with it if you don’t want to.”

Taehyung swallowed hard. “And if I do?”

Jungkook lifted his gaze. His storm scent pulsed heavy in the room, tangled with fear and something deeper. “Then we figure it out.”

Taehyung’s breath caught. “Together?”

Jungkook hesitated—just for a moment. Long enough for Taehyung’s heart to squeeze painfully. But then Jungkook nodded once, firm. “Together.”

The word settled between them, fragile and dangerous and real.

Taehyung buried his face in his hands. “I don’t want to ruin your career. Your reputation. You’ve worked your whole life to get here.”

Jungkook exhaled sharply, leaning back against the couch. “You think a reputation matters more to me than you?”

Taehyung looked up, startled.

Jungkook’s gaze was fierce, unyielding. “I don’t know what this means for us. I don’t know how we’ll make it work. But you’re not facing this alone, Taehyung. Not ever again.”

Taehyung’s wolf pressed close at those words, soothed by the weight of them. Tears spilled hot down his cheeks. “Why do you care so much?”

Jungkook’s lips parted, then closed. His jaw tightened, as if the truth was too raw to voice. “Because I do.”

The silence stretched, heavy with all the things they weren’t yet ready to name.

At last, Taehyung wiped his eyes, trembling. “I don’t know what to do, Jungkook. But I know I don’t want to lose this baby. Not if it’s ours.”

Jungkook’s chest constricted. His wolf surged with a possessive growl he barely bit back. He reached across the space between them, his hand covering Taehyung’s.

“Then we don’t lose it,” he said. “We protect it. We protect you.”

Taehyung’s breath shook, but for the first time since the test, the fear eased—just a fraction.

They sat like that in silence, hand in hand, the rain pattering steady against the windows. Neither had answers yet. Only questions. Only fear. Only the fragile, dangerous promise of together.

And for tonight, that was enough.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty – The Weight of Choice

The next morning, Taehyung woke in Jungkook’s guest room to the smell of rice porridge and ginger tea. His stomach lurched with nausea, but when he forced himself downstairs, he found Jungkook in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, stirring a pot with surprising competence.

“You cook?” Taehyung asked, voice raspy from sleep.

Jungkook glanced over, cedar scent filling the space. “I manage.” He set a bowl on the counter. “Eat. It’ll help.”

Taehyung slid onto the stool, still in the oversized sweatshirt Jungkook had given him last night. He stared at the steaming bowl for a moment before picking up the spoon. The first bite was bland, soothing, exactly what his stomach could handle.

“I’m not helpless,” Taehyung muttered, though his chest warmed despite himself.

Jungkook leaned against the counter, arms folded, watching him carefully. “I didn’t say you were. But you’re not alone anymore. Let me help.”

The words landed heavier than the porridge in his stomach.

Back at the hospital, Taehyung threw himself into work as if nothing had changed. But he moved slower now, more careful. Every time he felt a wave of nausea, panic fluttered in his chest—don’t let anyone notice, don’t let this show.

Jungkook noticed anyway.

He saw the way Taehyung paled during long cases, the way his hand drifted protectively toward his stomach when he thought no one was watching. He started sliding protein bars into Taehyung’s pockets between rounds, leaving water bottles by his charts, insisting he take breaks.

The first time Jungkook said, “Sit. Ten minutes,” in front of the other residents, Taehyung’s ears burned red.

“I’m fine,” he protested, glaring.

“You’re not fine,” Jungkook said simply, tone brooking no argument. His eyes softened, though—just enough that Taehyung’s wolf eased under the weight of his Alpha’s command.

But embarrassment still coiled in his chest. Later, in the on-call lounge, Taehyung whispered to Jimin, “I’m dragging him down. He shouldn’t have to—”

“You’re not dragging anyone,” Jimin said firmly, hand squeezing his shoulder. “Stop apologizing for existing, Tae. This is his responsibility too.”

Taehyung’s throat tightened. He wanted to believe it.

One evening, Jungkook drove him home after a late shift. The car hummed quietly down the highway, trees blurring past in the dark.

“You should stay with me,” Jungkook said suddenly, eyes fixed on the road.

Taehyung turned his head, startled. “What?”

“My house is private. Safer. You won’t have to hide when you’re sick.” Jungkook’s hands tightened on the wheel. “Your grandmother doesn’t need more stress. And you…” He hesitated. “You need someone watching out for you.”

Taehyung’s heart clenched. The offer was so plain, so protective it nearly undid him. But fear clawed at him too. “You don’t have to take care of me, Jungkook. This is my mess.”

Jungkook’s jaw flexed. “It’s our mess.” His voice was quiet but firm. “Stop trying to carry it alone.”

Taehyung turned his face toward the window, hiding the tears that burned his eyes. His wolf pressed close, aching to lean into the cedar strength beside him. But fear whispered still: What if he only stays because of duty? What if he doesn’t really want me?

Yoongi came by one night, arms full of takeout. He set the bags on Taehyung’s kitchen counter and gave him a look so piercing it made him squirm.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Yoongi said.

Taehyung’s lips trembled. “I’m scared.”

“Of the baby?”

“Of everything,” Taehyung admitted. “Of failing. Of ruining my career. Of ruining Jungkook’s.” His voice broke. “Of him deciding I’m not worth the trouble.”

Yoongi pulled him into a brief, fierce hug. “Tae. You are worth the trouble. And if Jungkook doesn’t see that, I’ll personally knock sense into him.” His gummy smile softened the words. “But I think he already does. He just doesn’t know how to say it yet.”

Taehyung let out a shaky laugh, shoulders loosening just a little.

Jin found him in the residents’ lounge a few days later, head bowed over a chart he wasn’t really reading.

“You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world,” Jin said gently, sliding into the seat across from him.

Taehyung smiled faintly. “Maybe just half of it.”

Jin’s gaze softened. “You’re stronger than you think. And you don’t have to carry it alone.”

Taehyung blinked back tears. “Why are you so kind to me?”

“Because you’re my brother,” Jin said simply. “And because I’ve already wasted too much time not being here for you.”

The warmth of those words lodged deep in Taehyung’s chest.

Jungkook noticed the shift too. Some nights, when he drove Taehyung home, he’d glance over and see the younger man cradling his stomach absentmindedly, expression soft with something almost like wonder. Other nights, Taehyung was withdrawn, walls up, smile brittle.

Jungkook wanted to ask—what are you thinking? what are you feeling?—but the words stuck. His fear of breaking what fragile trust they’d built was stronger than his courage.

So he stayed silent, offering care in small, practical ways: food, rest, steady hands. And Taehyung, torn between gratitude and guilt, let him.

One night, after Jungkook had dropped him off, Taehyung lay awake in bed, hand resting on his stomach.

A tiny spark of life.

A future he hadn’t planned.

A choice he’d already made, even if he hadn’t spoken it aloud: he wanted this baby.

But the weight of it pressed heavy too. His career, his grandmother, his feelings for Jungkook—all tangled together in a knot he didn’t know how to unravel.

Still, as his wolf settled under the faint echo of cedar scent clinging to his sweatshirt, one truth cut through the noise:

He wasn’t carrying this alone anymore.

And maybe—just maybe—that could be enough to face whatever came next.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-One – Is there Nothing we can do?

The surgery should have worked.

The patient—a man in his forties, two young children waiting outside—had been stable through most of the bypass. Jungkook’s hands had been steady, every suture precise. But when the rhythm faltered, when the heart monitor flatlined despite every shock, every drug, every desperate measure—nothing brought him back.

Time of death was called.

Jungkook stood frozen at the table, gloved hands trembling. All he could see was the children waiting outside. All he could hear was the echo of his own father’s last breath, the sound of twisted metal and rain, the memory of being a boy who survived when his father didn’t.

You should have saved him.

The voice of guilt was louder than any nurse or resident.

He ripped his gloves off and stormed out of the OR, storm scent sharp and uncontained.

Taehyung found him in the stairwell, head bowed, fists pressed to the concrete wall. His shoulders shook.

“Jungkook,” Taehyung said softly.

“Don’t.” Jungkook’s voice cracked, low and dangerous.

“You did everything you could—”

“Not enough,” Jungkook bit out. He turned, eyes blazing, wolf pressed too close. “I should have saved him. I swore I would never let it happen again, not after Appa—” His voice broke, and he slammed his fist against the wall.

Taehyung stepped closer, heart aching. “You’re human, Jungkook. Even alphas can’t fight fate.”

“Don’t comfort me,” Jungkook snapped. His chest heaved, storm scent jagged and wild. “I don’t deserve comfort. Not from you. Not from anyone. I shouldn’t be a father, or a partner—I destroy everything I touch.”

Taehyung froze. “Don’t say that—”

“The baby would be better off not being born,” Jungkook shouted, voice raw. “Look at the mess it’s coming into!”

The words hung heavy in the stairwell.

Taehyung’s breath hitched like he’d been struck. His wolf whimpered, curling tight inside him. His eyes burned as he stumbled back, chest twisting painfully.

“I thought…” His voice cracked. “I thought you wanted it too.”

Jungkook’s expression faltered, but Taehyung was already running, tears blurring his vision.

He nearly collided with Jin outside the hospital. His half-brother caught him by the arms, alarmed.

“Tae? What happened?”

Taehyung collapsed against him, sobs breaking free. Jin held him, guiding him into Namjoon’s car, then up into their apartment, warm and safe.

On the couch, with a blanket pulled over his shoulders, Taehyung cried until he had no tears left. Jin and Namjoon stayed close, silent but steady.

When he finally found his voice, it was hoarse. “He said… the baby would be better off not being born.”

Jin’s jaw tightened, fury flashing. “That bastard.”

But Taehyung shook his head fiercely, wiping his face. “No. That’s what made me realize… I want this baby. I don’t care how hard it is. I thought he wanted it too, but even if he doesn’t—I’ll do this without him if I have to.” His hands trembled as they pressed against his stomach. “This baby is mine. And I’m keeping it.”

Jin’s eyes softened, his hand settling over Taehyung’s. “You won’t be alone, little brother. Not ever again.”

Namjoon nodded firmly. “We’ll make sure of it.”

Elsewhere, Yoongi found Jungkook in the call room, curled over himself on the edge of the bed. His face was buried in his hands, shoulders shaking silently.

“I thought I’d find you like this,” Yoongi said gently, setting down a can of coffee untouched.

Jungkook looked up, eyes red-rimmed. “I failed him, Yoongi. The kids—” His voice broke. “I failed my father all over again.”

Yoongi sat beside him, quiet for a moment. Then: “You can’t keep carrying that night. You were a boy, Kook. And today—you’re a surgeon. Sometimes we lose. It doesn’t mean you killed him. It means you’re human.”

Jungkook’s breath hitched. “I shouted at Taehyung. I told him the baby would be better off not being born.”

Yoongi’s eyes hardened. “You’re lucky I know you didn’t mean that. Or I’d beat you up myself.”

A broken laugh slipped from Jungkook, watery and weak.

Yoongi squeezed his shoulder. “You don’t need to be perfect, Jungkook. You just need to stop shutting out the people who want to love you. Especially him.”

Jungkook’s chest ached. He stood suddenly, resolve burning through the haze. “I have to go to him.”

Yoongi smiled faintly. “Good. Go.”

At Jin and Namjoon’s apartment, a knock came at the door. Jin opened it to reveal Jungkook, rain-soaked, eyes haunted.

“Please,” Jungkook said. “I need to see him.”

Jin hesitated, then stepped aside.

Taehyung was still curled on the couch, blanket wrapped around him. When Jungkook entered, his wolf bristled, defensive.

“You don’t get to shout at me and then show up here like nothing happened,” Taehyung said, voice sharp through the tears. “I’m keeping this baby. No matter what you say.”

Jungkook dropped to his knees in front of him, eyes fierce, raw. “I want it too. I want you. I was angry, I was grieving—I didn’t mean it, Taehyung. I swear. I’m sorry.” His hand shook as it reached for Taehyung’s, but he didn’t force it. “I was scared. Scared I’d ruin you. Scared I’d ruin our child the way I ruined everything else. But I don’t want to run anymore.”

Taehyung’s chin trembled. Slowly, he let Jungkook take his hand.

“We have to do better,” Taehyung whispered. “For this baby. Even if not for ourselves.”

Jungkook cupped his chin gently, forcing him to meet his eyes. His voice was steady now, quiet but sure. “No. As much as I want our baby, Taehyung… I’m here for you. It’s always been you. And I want to be the Alpha you deserve. Will you give me one more chance?”

Taehyung’s tears spilled again, but a laugh broke through them, soft and disbelieving. “Of course, silly. I lo—” He stopped, cheeks flushing. “I want you too.”

Jungkook leaned forward, kissing him gently, reverently. Taehyung melted into it, blanket sliding down, wolf finally settling.

When Jungkook’s hand brushed over his stomach, protective and tender, Taehyung giggled through his tears.

For the first time in weeks, the future didn’t feel like a storm waiting to break. It felt like a path they could walk—together.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Two – Unspoken Bonds

The days after their reconciliation slipped into a rhythm neither dared to name but both felt in their bones.

Jungkook didn’t hover, but he was there. He made sure Taehyung sat down between rounds, that he drank water before long cases, that his bag always mysteriously contained snacks. He never mentioned them aloud, never asked for thanks, but Taehyung noticed.

And Taehyung, for his part, stopped fighting the help. He let Jungkook steady him when his stomach turned, let Jungkook’s cedar scent soothe him through restless nights in the on-call lounge. Sometimes their hands brushed in the OR, and neither pulled away.

It was dangerous, intoxicating. Like living in a fragile dream.

One late evening, Taehyung lingered in Jungkook’s office after finishing charts. The room was quiet, bathed in the glow of the city through the tall window.

“You work too much,” Taehyung murmured, setting the last file on the desk.

Jungkook huffed softly. “Pot calling the kettle black.”

“Maybe.” Taehyung’s lips curved. “But at least I’m eating these days.”

Jungkook looked up, meeting his eyes. Something softened in his expression, the kind of unguarded warmth Taehyung had only glimpsed a few times before.

Without thinking, Taehyung crossed the room, leaning against the edge of the desk near him. Their knees brushed. Their wolves stirred.

“Jungkook,” Taehyung whispered, heart pounding.

Jungkook’s hand lifted, hesitated, then cupped Taehyung’s cheek. His thumb brushed over soft skin, reverent.

The kiss was gentle, unhurried—nothing like the desperate, stolen ones of before. It was soft, lingering, full of everything neither of them had yet found the courage to say aloud.

Taehyung smiled against his lips, boxy and breathless. Jungkook chuckled, forehead resting against his.

And that was exactly when the door banged open.

“Yo, Kook, you left your—” Hoseok’s voice cut off mid-sentence. His eyes went wide. “Oh.”

Behind him, Jimin nearly tripped over his own feet. Jin raised an eyebrow. Namjoon coughed into his fist. And Yoongi just grinned, gummy smile smug.

“Finally,” Jimin said flatly, hands on his hips.

Taehyung’s face flamed scarlet. He tried to pull back, but Jungkook’s hand steadied him firmly, not letting him retreat.

“About time,” Yoongi drawled, folding his arms. “I was starting to think I’d have to lock you two in a call room until you figured it out.”

Jin smirked, though his eyes softened when they flicked to Taehyung. “Good. He deserves someone who sees him.”

Namjoon’s dimples appeared as he added, “We all knew you’d get there in the end.”

Hoseok recovered first, clapping his hands. “Well! Guess I win the bet.”

“What bet?” Taehyung yelped, scandalized.

“That you two would cave before the end of the residency year.” Hoseok winked. “Pay up, Jiminie.”

Jimin groaned, digging for his wallet while Taehyung buried his flaming face in Jungkook’s shoulder. Jungkook, for once, actually laughed—low, warm, unguarded.

The room was full of teasing, of family, of pack. And for the first time, Taehyung didn’t feel like a secret or a mistake. He felt… claimed. Belonging.

Later, when the others had left, Taehyung still hid his face in Jungkook’s chest. “They’re never going to let us live this down.”

“Probably not,” Jungkook murmured, kissing the top of his head. “But I don’t care.”

Taehyung peeked up, lips curving. “You don’t?”

Jungkook’s hand slid protectively to his stomach, resting there gently. “No. Because you’re mine. And they all know it now.”

Taehyung giggled softly, wolf content, the sound muffled against Jungkook’s shirt.

For once, there were no storms between them. Only quiet bonds, unspoken but undeniable.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Three – Something Like Family

Life didn’t return to “normal.” It couldn’t.

But it settled into something new.

The pack closed ranks almost immediately. Jimin hovered like a mother hen, sneaking extra food into Taehyung’s locker. Hoseok joked endlessly about baby names (“Hoseok Jr. has a nice ring to it”), though his warm smiles lingered when Taehyung was too tired to laugh. Yoongi became the quiet shield—no one dared whisper within range of his sharp ears. And Jin… Jin was simply there, every chance he got, filling the empty spaces their father had left.

Namjoon summed it up one night at dinner. “You’re ours. Both of you. So if anyone at the hospital has a problem, they have a problem with me.” His dimples flashed, but his eyes were steel.

Taehyung laughed then, but his wolf pressed low with relief. He wasn’t just Jungkook’s secret anymore. He was family.

The gossip started anyway.

It always did.

Residents whispered when Taehyung ducked out for the bathroom, when Jungkook lingered too long at his side, when protein bars mysteriously appeared in his pockets. A few voices were crueler, murmuring about favoritism, about mistakes.

But the first time a junior resident made a pointed comment in the cafeteria, Jungkook’s cedar scent cut sharp across the room.

“You have something to say?” he asked evenly, standing just behind Taehyung.

The resident stammered, paling under the weight of his gaze. “N-no, sir.”

“Good.” Jungkook’s tone was cool as he guided Taehyung to a table, hand warm at the small of his back. He didn’t look back once.

The gossip didn’t stop entirely, but no one dared voice it within earshot again.

The prenatal appointment was different. Not hospital hallways, not OR lights—just a quiet clinic room, soft lighting, the faint smell of antiseptic.

Taehyung lay on the exam table, the hum of the ultrasound machine still lingering in the room. His fingers twisted nervously in the hem of his shirt, eyes fixed ahead of him.

Jungkook sat close, cedar wrapping around him, and without a word he reached for Taehyung’s hand. His thumb brushed over the same spot on Taehyung’s wrist he’d touched months ago in the hospital hallway—the place he’d once cleaned so clinically, then gripped so fiercely in the supply closet.

Now, his touch was slow, grounding. Reverent.

Taehyung’s breath hitched, eyes finally lifting to meet his.

“You’re not alone in this,” Jungkook murmured. “Not now, not ever.”

Taehyung blinked hard, his lips trembling into a small smile. That simple pressure on his wrist said everything—reminding him of where they’d started, and how far they’d come.

The doctor smiled as she entered the room. "Hello" She greeted warmly.

Taehyung replied with a nervous smile. Jungkook's touch never left him, soothing him gently.

The doctor moved closer to prep the gel and the wand. “First scan?”

Taehyung nodded, heart racing.

"Don't worry." She said "The first scan always make parents nervous no matter if it's the first or the seventh child."

The word 'parents' almost startled Taehyung, he sometimes forgot that's where he and Jungkook were now headed. Together.

When the image flickered onto the screen, Jungkook’s hand closed over Taehyung’s instinctively.

There it was. Tiny. Fragile. Beating.

Taehyung’s eyes flooded. His wolf pressed close, aching with fierce, protective love.

Jungkook’s jaw worked, his gaze fixed on the grainy image. His cedar scent shifted—storm softening to rain, grounding, reverent. “That’s… ours.”

Taehyung turned to him, breath catching at the wonder in his voice. “Yeah.”

For a long moment, neither of them moved. Just sat there, hand in hand, watching the faint flicker of life on the screen.

When the appointment ended, Jungkook fussed more than usual—holding Taehyung’s coat, asking three times if he felt lightheaded, insisting they stop for food.

“You’re overreacting,” Taehyung teased, though his heart warmed.

“Not overreacting,” Jungkook muttered, holding the car door open. “Protecting.”

Taehyung smiled all the way home.

That night, curled against Jungkook’s chest on the couch, Taehyung gasped softly.

“What?” Jungkook asked immediately, half-rising in alarm.

Taehyung caught his hand, guiding it to his stomach. “I think… I felt something. Like a flutter.”

Jungkook stilled, palm spread wide, breath held. Then—there. Faint, almost imperceptible, but real.

His cedar scent swelled, rich and grounding. He bent, pressing his forehead to Taehyung’s stomach. “Hello, little one,” he whispered, voice shaking.

Taehyung’s eyes burned with tears, his hand threading through Jungkook’s hair. His wolf purred, content, safe.

In that moment, the fear didn’t vanish—but it was softened by something stronger. Something that felt an awful lot like hope.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Four – Hello & Farewell

Taehyung had been rehearsing the words all the way home.

Halmeoni, I’m going to be a father.

Halmeoni, you’re going to be a great-grandmother.

He had imagined her smile, imagined the way her frail hands would clasp his face, her laugh like soft bells despite the years of illness. He had wanted her blessing, her joy, her comfort.

But when he opened the door to the small, quiet apartment, the words died on his tongue.

“Halmeoni?”

The kitchen light was still on. A pot of rice sat warm on the stove. But his grandmother lay on the floor, still and pale, her lips parted as though she had simply fallen asleep.

“Halmeoni!”

His knees hit the floor hard. His hands trembled as he shook her gently, then desperately. His wolf keened, frantic, panicked. “No, no, please—stay with me. Please.”

He dialed emergency services with shaking fingers, sobbing her name until the paramedics arrived.

The hospital was chaos, bright lights and rushing voices but all Taehyung could hear was the flat line, the quiet words from the doctor:

“I’m so sorry. We did everything we could. She’s gone.”

At his grandmother’s bedside, Taehyung’s tears fell fast, shoulders shaking. His wolf ears slipped free, quivering like a child’s. He bent forward, clutching her still hand, ears straining as if trying to hear her voice one more time.

"I-I should have been th-there." He cried. "I should have been there a-and I should have saved her. Sh-she was supposed to be here."

Jungkook gathered him close, “She loved you, Tae. She’d want you to remember that, not the guilt. You have nothing to feel guilty about.”

But still the world tilted. His legs gave out, and he might have hit the floor if Jungkook hadn’t been there, arms wrapping around him, holding him up.

“No,” Taehyung whispered, his body shaking. “I was supposed to tell her. She was supposed to know about the baby.” His tears burned hot, streaming down his face. “I should have been there. I should have—”

“Stop.” Jungkook’s voice was firm but breaking, his cedar scent flooding the sterile air. He gripped Taehyung’s shoulders, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t carry this guilt.”

“But I—”

Jungkook shook his head, his own eyes wet. “Taehyung, listen to me. You told me once that my father wouldn’t have wanted me to drown in guilt. That he would’ve wanted me to live, to remember the good. Your grandmother loved you more

than anything. She would never want you to punish yourself for this. She would want you to hold on to the love, the memories, the laughter. That’s how you honor her.”

Taehyung broke then, sobs tearing out of him. Jungkook pulled him close, holding him as tightly as he dared, stroking his head until his ears faded away and whispering into his hair. “You’re not alone. I’ve got you. Always.”

The others came as soon as they heard.

Jimin arrived first, his face pale, eyes red-rimmed as he hugged Taehyung so tightly it nearly knocked the air out of him. “You still have me, Tae. You always have me.”

Yoongi followed, setting a gentle hand on Taehyung’s back, his gummy smile soft with sadness. “She’d be proud of you, you know. More than proud. You’re everything she hoped you’d be.”

Hoseok brought food no one could eat, his usually bright presence subdued, but his arms strong around Taehyung when the tears wouldn’t stop.

Jin stood beside him, silent but steady, one hand clasped around Taehyung’s. “I know it hurts. But she loved you. That love doesn’t vanish.” Namjoon stood just behind him, grounding them both with his calm presence.

They stayed through the night, a circle of warmth and family around the boy who had lost so much, who had given so much.

Later, when the others finally drifted home, Taehyung sat in the quiet waiting room, head bowed. Jungkook sat beside him, their hands laced together, silence stretching between them.

“She was all I had,” Taehyung whispered.

“You have me,” Jungkook said softly. He turned, cupping Taehyung’s face, brushing away the tears that wouldn’t stop. His voice trembled with his own vulnerability. “And I need you, more than I’ve ever needed anyone.”

Taehyung leaned into his touch, wolf pressing close, soothed by the steady cedar scent that wrapped around him like shelter.

For the first time since she had passed, he allowed himself to breathe.

Not because the grief was gone—it never would be. But because he wasn’t carrying it alone.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Five – Building a Future

Grief settled into Taehyung’s bones like a winter that wouldn’t end. The apartment was too quiet without his grandmother’s soft humming, her gentle reminders to eat, the smell of her herbal teas. Some mornings, he woke expecting her voice, only to be met by silence that broke him all over again.

But he wasn’t alone anymore.

Jungkook was there—never hovering, but always steady. He cooked simple meals and left them in containers when Taehyung couldn’t bring himself to eat. He took over the small tasks his grandmother used to do: watering the plants, folding laundry, making sure there was always honey tea ready when Taehyung woke nauseous in the mornings.

At first, Taehyung cried each time. But slowly, the tears softened. Slowly, the gratitude grew.

One evening, curled together on Jungkook’s couch, Taehyung’s hand drifted to his stomach. “Do you think I’ll be a good parent?”

Jungkook’s cedar scent swelled, warm and grounding. He turned, brushing his lips over Taehyung’s temple. “You already are. You care. You fight. That’s what matters.”

Taehyung smiled faintly, leaning into him. “And you?”

Jungkook hesitated. His jaw flexed, but then he exhaled. “I don’t know if I’ll be perfect. But I want to be the Alpha who shows our child love and safety every day. I’ll never let them wonder if they’re wanted.”

Taehyung’s heart tightened. “Then you’ll be perfect enough.”

Planning started small. A drawer in Jungkook’s dresser cleared for baby things. A list of potential names scribbled into Taehyung’s notebook during rounds, half of them ridiculous because Hoseok insisted on adding suggestions.

Yoongi bought the first gift: a tiny onesie with cartoon wolves printed across the front. Taehyung cried when he saw it, clutching the soft fabric to his chest. Yoongi just patted his head, murmuring, “Our pack’s getting bigger.”

Jimin suggested themes for a nursery. “Stars,” he said. “It should be stars, because you’ll raise a kid who shines.”

Jin insisted on being in charge of food during late pregnancy, rattling off nutrition facts like a textbook. Namjoon promised to teach the baby how to ride a bike. Hoseok declared he’d be the “fun uncle,” which everyone agreed was obvious.

Taehyung laughed for the first time in weeks, wolf soothed by the certainty of their pack.

But the biggest step came from Jungkook.

One Saturday, he drove Taehyung out of the city to a quiet suburb. “Where are we going?” Taehyung asked, suspicious but smiling.

“You’ll see.”

The house they stopped at was smaller than Jungkook’s modern glass-and-steel home, but warmer, older—ivy climbing the walls, a neat garden out front. When Jungkook rang the bell, his mother opened the door, her eyes brightening.

“Jungkook-ah,” she said warmly—then her gaze shifted to Taehyung. “And you brought him again.”

Taehyung blinked. “Again?”

“She means she remembers you,” Jungkook muttered, ears pink.

His mother smiled knowingly, ushering them in. The table was already set with steaming bowls of stew.

As they ate, Jungkook’s mother asked Taehyung gentle questions: how his residency was going, whether he was eating enough, if Jungkook was treating him well.

When Taehyung hesitated, Jungkook’s mother reached across the table and took his hand. “You look at him like I used to look at my husband. That tells me all I need to know.”

Taehyung’s eyes burned. Jungkook reached under the table, squeezing his knee gently.

After dinner, in the garden, Jungkook leaned close. “She already thinks of you as family.”

Taehyung’s chest ached, but this time it was with something like joy. “I think… I want that.”

Jungkook kissed him softly, cedar scent wrapping around them both. “Then it’s yours.”

That night, back at Jungkook’s house, Taehyung lay in bed with his hand over his stomach. He could still hear his grandmother’s laugh, still feel the ache of her absence. But he could also hear Jungkook’s steady breath beside him, could feel the baby flutter softly inside.

For the first time since her death, Taehyung didn’t feel hollow. He felt… full.

Of grief.

Of love.

Of a future beginning to take shape.

And when Jungkook pulled him close, whispering, “We’ll build this together,” Taehyung finally believed him.

The gossip had always remained there, murmuring under the surface like smoke. But it took one careless spark to turn it into fire.

It happened in the cafeteria, of all places. A senior consultant in cardiology—a man with too much pride and not enough tact—made a snide remark within earshot of the entire room.

“Resident Kim seems to be advancing quickly,” he said, voice dripping with disdain. “Almost as if Dr. Jeon has… other interests in him.”

The silence that followed was sharp. All eyes turned to Jungkook.

Taehyung froze, his tray trembling in his hands. He opened his mouth to deflect, to protect Jungkook, but Jungkook spoke first.

“Dr. Kim has advanced because he’s one of the most gifted residents I’ve ever seen,” Jungkook said, his voice calm but iron-edged. “And yes—he’s important to me. Professionally and personally. If anyone here has a problem with that, take it up with me, not him.”

The weight of his words, the steady storm scent that rolled through the cafeteria, left no room for challenge. The consultant faltered, then retreated with a scowl.

Taehyung’s heart pounded. For the first time, Jungkook hadn’t hidden. He had claimed him.

That night, at Jungkook’s house, the silence stretched between them as they sat in the living room. Rain tapped against the tall windows, the city lights glowing faint beyond the trees.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Taehyung said softly.

“I did,” Jungkook answered simply. His gaze held Taehyung’s, fierce and unflinching. “Because I’m tired of pretending. I love you, Taehyung.”

The words landed heavy, real. Taehyung’s breath caught.

“Jungkook…” His voice shook.

“No, wait let me finish.” Jungkook interrupted. And Taehyung, he stared back at him wide eyed, waiting, expecting.

“I love you Taehyung. I love how much you care about your work, your friends and even strangers. How stubborn you are when we argue, not because you have to be right, but because you’re not scared to say that I’m wrong. I love that you push me forward as much as you pull me back into your arms. I love the way your wolf ears come out when you’re in need of comfort. And I love that you let me comfort you. I love so many things about you but it’s all really to say. I love you.” 

Tears welled up in Taehyung’s eyes. He looked down at his hands and then at the hands coming over to cover them.

“I love you too.” He said softly. “But I’m scared. Everyone I’ve ever loved has left me. My father, my mother, Halmeoni… What if one day you decide I’m too much trouble? What if you leave? I don’t know if I can go through another loss. Not with you.”

Jungkook moved closer, kneeling in front of him, hands covering his trembling ones. “Do you think I’m not scared too? I wake up terrified every day that something will take you from me. That I’ll fail you the way I failed my mother or my father. But I’m done running from fear. We have each other. That’s all we need.”

Tears spilled down Taehyung’s cheeks, but he nodded, leaning into Jungkook’s touch. “Then… we’re really doing this?”

Jungkook’s smile was soft, trembling. “We’ve been doing it all along. But now it’s official. You’re mine, and I’m yours.”

And in the warm confines of their now shared home, Jungkook scooped Taehyung up lovingly into his arms, knowing this was everything he needed to be happy from now on.

“Jungkook!” Taehyung protested, laughter bubbling up from his chest, making his cheeks cute and round in a way that made Jungkook have to lean in and kiss them.

“You’re carrying my baby,” Jungkook murmured with mock sternness, cedar scent warm and steady. “I’ll carry you whenever I want.”

Then it was Taehyung who found himself leaning up to kiss Jungkook’s cheek. The two sharing sweet smiles.

Upstairs, Jungkook laid Taehyung gently on the bed, pressing kisses to his lips, his jaw, the swell of his stomach.

“Our baby,” he whispered against soft fabric. “Our family.”

Taehyung’s heart swelled. He pulled Jungkook close, kissing him with all the love he had held back for months.

Their lips met in a passionate dance, tongues dueling for dominance. Jungkook's hands roamed Taehyung's body, exploring every curve and dip with a reverence that was new and exciting.

When they finally broke apart, Taehyung was breathless. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his body was aching for more. Jungkook, sensing his need, began to undress him slowly, his fingers tracing patterns on Taehyung's skin.

Taehyung's shirt was the first to go, followed by his pants. Jungkook's hands lingered on the waistband of his underwear, his fingers tracing the outline of Taehyung's growing tummy. "Fuck, you're so sexy like this.” Jungkook murmured, his voice low and husky.

Taehyung moaned in response, his hips bucking up in search of friction. Jungkook obliged, his hand slipping under the fabric to wrap around Taehyung's cock. He began to stroke, his movements slow and deliberate.

Taehyung's breath hitched, his body arching off the bed. Jungkook's touch was electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. He could feel his orgasm building, his body tensing in anticipation.

But Jungkook had other plans. He released Taehyung, ignoring his whimper of protest. "Patience, love," Jungkook whispered, his lips brushing against Taehyung's ear. "I want to taste you first."

With that, Jungkook slid down Taehyung's body, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He reached Taehyung's underwear, pulling it down slowly to reveal his throbbing erection. Jungkook took a moment to admire the sight, his own cock twitching in response.

Then, he leaned down, kissing down Taehyung’s erection, all the way to his dripping hole. Taehyung's hips bucked up when he felt a tongue prod at his entrance, a strangled moan escaping his lips. Jungkook's mouth was hot and wet, his tongue swirling inside him with expert precision.

Taehyung could feel his orgasm building, his body trembling with the effort to hold back. But he didn’t want things to end like this, not yet. With a strength he didn't know he possessed, Taehyung pushed Jungkook away from him.

Jungkook looked up at him, confusion etched on his face.

"I want to come with you inside me," Taehyung panted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook's eyes darkened with desire. He nodded, his hands already reaching between his legs. He slicked up his fingers, his gaze never leaving Taehyung's. He took his time opening Taehyung up. Taehyung moaned, his body arching off the bed. By the time Jungkook was lining up his cock and pushing inside Taehyung, the omega was already trembling and on the edge.

When Jungkook deemed him ready, he started moving his hips, his thrusts slow and smooth. Taehyung's hips met him thrust for thrust, a strangled moan escaping his lips.

Tonight, things felt different. It wasn’t sex - it was connection, it was making love. When Jungkook looked at him, he saw all that they had been through and all that they had become. He saw Taehyung, with his soft features and delicate frame, his sharp mind and caring heart. Tonight was nothing like the desperate nights before. It was slow, reverent, full of whispered promises. Jungkook’s hands were gentle, his eyes soft, his every movement a vow.

Afterwards, Taehyung lay tangled in his arms, cheeks flushed, lips curved. “I can’t wait for our little family to be complete.” He said, his hands resting over Jungkook’s which were caressing the soft curve of his stomach.

Jungkook chuckled, brushing curls from his forehead. “We’ve still got a little way to go. But me too. I can’t wait for everything there is to come with you beside me.”

Taehyung’s wolf purred, safe and content. For the first time, he believed it: he wasn’t going to be abandoned. Not this time.

Because Jungkook had chosen him—not out of duty, not out of instinct, but out of love.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Six – A Growing Pack

Life with Jungkook felt different now.

Not lighter—because there was still the weight of the hospital, of pregnancy, of grief—but steadier. Safer.

He no longer hesitated to take Taehyung’s hand in the hallways. He no longer ignored the curious looks from residents and nurses. Instead, he walked beside him, head high, cedar scent rolling protective and sure.

And Taehyung… for the first time in his life, he felt claimed. Not as a mistake, not as someone’s burden. As Jungkook’s partner.

Their pack leaned into it immediately.

Hoseok started leaving tiny baby socks on Taehyung’s desk with notes like “wolf pup gear—phase one”. Jimin dragged Taehyung furniture shopping on his day off, insisting they needed “proper nesting supplies.” Yoongi smuggled prenatal vitamins into Jungkook’s office with deadpan efficiency.

Jin and Namjoon invited them to dinner every week, their apartment filled with warmth, laughter, and the unspoken truth that Taehyung had always belonged here, even before Jungkook.

“You’re glowing,” Jin teased one evening, watching Taehyung laugh as Hoseok tried to balance a baby bottle on his nose.

“I’m sweaty,” Taehyung corrected, cheeks pink.

“You’re glowing,” Jungkook countered firmly, and the pack howled with laughter at the rare sight of him smiling so openly.

Baby preparations became a shared ritual.

Jungkook cleared out an entire room in his house, sketching layouts for a nursery. Taehyung argued for soft colors and stars on the ceiling. Jungkook wanted sturdy furniture and blackout curtains. Jimin declared they needed both.

T

he nursery smelled faintly of fresh paint and lilac blossoms. Taehyung dipped his roller into the tray with determination, humming as he attacked the lower half of the wall. Jungkook worked silently beside him, his strokes even and efficient.

“Lilac was a good choice,” Taehyung said brightly, nose wrinkling with a smudge of purple paint. “Soothing, but not boring.”

Jungkook glanced at him, fighting a smile. “It suits you.”

Taehyung grinned, heart swelling.

But when he set his roller down and reached for the ladder, Jungkook’s voice snapped sharp. “Stop.”

Taehyung blinked. “What?”

“You’re not climbing that.” Jungkook’s cedar scent spiked, protective, his frown dark and unyielding. “Not while you’re carrying.”

“I can paint,” Taehyung protested, bottom lip jutting in a pout. “I’m not made of glass.”

“I don’t care.” Jungkook crossed the room, plucked the roller from his hand, and set it firmly aside. “You’re not risking a fall.”

Taehyung huffed dramatically, pout deepening. But the sulk didn’t last long—because Jungkook leaned down, brushing a kiss against that pout, soft and insistent.

Taehyung’s lips twitched into a smile despite himself. “That’s cheating.”

“Mm.” Jungkook kissed him again, this time at the corner of his mouth. Then his cheek. Then his nose. Soon, Taehyung was giggling as Jungkook peppered kisses all over his face, his cedar scent wrapping him in warmth.

“Jungkook!” he squealed between laughs, curling against him.

Jungkook’s mouth found his ear, voice low and rough. “I think I need to get you out of those overalls.”

Taehyung shivered, heat pooling low in his stomach. “But I look cute today.”

Jungkook chuckled, deep and wicked. “You do. But I can’t do what I want to do with you all dressed up, now can I?”

Before Taehyung could answer, Jungkook hooked strong hands under his thighs and lifted him effortlessly. Taehyung gasped, arms flying around his neck, his back pressing against the freshly painted wall. Their mouths met in a kiss that left him breathless, Jungkook’s tongue sweeping deep, his cedar scent spiking with desire.

But when Taehyung shifted closer, the small bump between them pressed firmly, reminding Jungkook of the precious life inside. He groaned softly, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against Taehyung’s.

“You’re carrying our baby,” he murmured, voice shaking with reverence. “I can’t crush you.”

Taehyung’s heart melted. “Then don’t. Love me gently.”

Jungkook smiled and without another word, he scooped Taehyung into his arms, cradling him like something precious. After all, he was.

Taehyung's pulse quickened at the sensation, his body fitting perfectly against Jungkook's broad chest as they crossed the room. The nursery's lilac walls glowed in the evening light, promising the family they were building. Jungkook laid him down on the futon with careful precision, his hands lingering on Taehyung's sides. Leaning in, Jungkook captured Taehyung's lips in a deep kiss, their mouths moving slowly, tongues exploring with building heat.

Taehyung's breath came in shaky bursts as Jungkook's fingers worked the straps of his overalls, sliding them off his shoulders. The fabric pooled around his waist, exposing his skin to the cool air. Jungkook's mouth followed, trailing kisses down Taehyung's chest, his lips brushing over sensitive nipples that hardened under the touch. Taehyung moaned softly, the sound escaping unbidden as Jungkook's tongue flicked against one, sending sparks through his body. “So perfect,” Jungkook whispered against his skin, his voice thick with passion as he moved lower, kissing the curve of Taehyung's stomach, lingering on the bump with reverent presses of his lips.

Taehyung threaded his fingers through Jungkook's hair, the silky strands grounding him as waves of pleasure built. His body ached for more, his entrance growing wet with anticipation. Jungkook's hands slid lower, easing off the rest of Taehyung's clothes until he was bare, his hard cock pressing against his thigh. “Jungkook,” Taehyung breathed, his voice laced with need, “touch me.” Jungkook obliged, his fingers tracing down to Taehyung's slick hole, rubbing gently at first, then with more urgency as Taehyung arched into him.

They moved together slowly, Jungkook positioning himself between Taehyung's legs, his own cock thick and ready. Taehyung felt the head press against his entrance, a mix of nervousness and excitement flooding him. “Yes,” he gasped as Jungkook pushed in, filling him inch by inch, the stretch both tender and intense. Jungkook thrust gently at first, their bodies rocking in a rhythm that built passion without haste, each movement drawing moans from Taehyung's lips. The sensation of Jungkook inside him, hitting deep spots that made his vision blur, mixed with the awareness of his pregnant belly between them, heightening every thrust.

Taehyung's fingers dug into Jungkook's back, feeling the Alpha's muscles flex with each drive. “Feels so good,” Taehyung panted, his body trembling as pleasure coiled tight. Jungkook's breaths were hot against his neck, whispers of 'Mine' and 'Love you' fueling the fire. They climaxed together, Taehyung's release spilling over his stomach as Jungkook groaned, pulsing inside him, their connection raw and profound.

Later, still tangled on the futon, Taehyung giggled breathlessly as Jungkook leaned down to kiss his stomach again. “Our baby has seen us do all sorts of things,” Taehyung teased, his cheeks flushed with residual heat. Jungkook smiled, his eyes full of devotion. “Good. They'll know how much I love you from the start.” Taehyung's heart swelled, his wolf content, but as Jungkook's hand trailed lower, teasing the edge of possibility, the night stretched out with unspoken promises.

And for a while, in that lilac room, there was only love.

Until the phone rang.

It was late—almost midnight—when Taehyung’s phone buzzed on the futon beside them. Still laughing softly, he reached for it, thumb swiping across the screen.

The voice on the other end froze him. Deep. Familiar. Cold.

“Taehyung,” his father said.

All warmth drained from Taehyung’s face. His wolf bristled, heart pounding.

Jungkook sat up instantly at the look in his eyes. “Who is it?”

Taehyung’s breath shook. “My father.”

The fragile peace of the lilac-painted room shattered, replaced by shadows neither of them were ready for.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Seven – Shadows of the Past

The call came the next morning.

Not to Taehyung, but to Jin. Their father’s voice was clipped, sharp with controlled fury.

“Bring him to me.”

The drive was suffocating. Jin’s knuckles were white around the steering wheel, his jaw set hard. Taehyung sat in silence beside him, trying to keep his breathing steady, one hand resting protectively over the swell of his stomach.

Jungkook followed in his own car. He’d wanted to come in, to sit beside Taehyung when the storm broke, but Jin shook his head. “He’ll go for the throat if Jungkook’s in the room. Let me handle him first.”

So Jungkook waited outside, storm scent sharp and restless, cedar filling the car until it felt like the air itself was vibrating.

Their father’s office was all glass and steel, a monument to power. He didn’t stand when they entered. He didn’t smile. His gaze cut sharp to Taehyung’s stomach, and his lips thinned.

“You kept this from me.” His voice was low, dangerous. His glare shifted to Jin. “You, of all people, should have told me.”

Jin didn’t flinch. “He’s my brother.”

“He’s a mistake,” their father spat. “And now he’s breeding another. Our family doesn’t need another bastard born out of wedlock. You will get rid of it.”

Taehyung’s breath caught. His wolf bristled, curling tight inside him, but his voice shook as he whispered, “This is my baby. I won’t.”

Their father slammed his hand against the desk, the sound echoing like a gunshot. “You don’t have a choice. You were a shame the moment you were born. Don’t think for a second I’ll allow you to drag this family down further.”

Jin stepped forward, fury blazing in his eyes. “Enough. He’s not a mistake—he’s my brother. And if you can’t accept him, then you lose both of us.”

The air crackled with tension. Their father’s gaze turned to steel. “Then I’ll find a way to get rid of only one of you. If it’s the last thing I do.”

The venom in his voice made Taehyung’s stomach twist. And then the knife came deeper.

“You look like her,” their father hissed. “Every time I see you, I see the woman I loved and destroyed. Your very existence ended us. Ended her.”

Tears blurred Taehyung’s vision. He stumbled back, shaking his head, and fled the office before his voice could break.

The doors of the building barely shut behind him before Jungkook was there, arms pulling him close.

“Taehyung,” Jungkook whispered, cedar flooding the air, steady and grounding. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Taehyung sobbed into his chest, clinging to him. “He hates me. He always has. And now—now he hates my baby too.”

“Then he’s a fool,” Jungkook said fiercely, holding him tighter. “Because I don’t. Because this baby is ours, and I’ll fight anyone who tries to take that from us. Even him.”

Taehyung’s wolf pressed close, soothed by the promise, by the strength of it.

Inside, Jin remained. His father’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t think you can threaten me and walk away, Jin.”

Jin’s smile was cold, dangerous. “Try me. Lay a single hand on Taehyung or his child, and I’ll tell the world everything—your affair, the son you kept hidden because you were too much of a coward to claim him. Everything you built will crumble. Do you understand me?”

Their father’s face twisted with rage, but Jin didn’t wait for an answer. He walked out, head high, heart pounding. For once, he felt the scales tip in his brother’s favor.

That evening, in the hospital doctor’s lounge, Taehyung lay curled against Jungkook, exhaustion heavy in his bones. Jungkook hummed low under his breath, fingers stroking Taehyung’s hair as he sang softly—a lullaby Taehyung recognized from his childhood.

Taehyung laughed through his tears, cheeks flushed. “You’re singing to the baby.”

“Of course,” Jungkook murmured, pressing a kiss to his temple. “They need to know their father’s voice.”

Taehyung smiled, wolf purring with contentment. For a moment, the shadows receded.

But then his stomach tightened suddenly, sharp enough to make him gasp.

Jungkook sat up instantly. “What was that?”

“Just—Braxton Hicks,” Taehyung panted, trying to wave him off. “Practice contractions. I’m fine.”

“You’re in your third trimester now,” Jungkook said firmly, his cedar scent spiking with concern. “You need to take it easy. No more pushing yourself.”

“I can handle—”

“No,” Jungkook cut in. “You’re going home. Rest. That’s final.”

Taehyung pouted, but before he could argue further, Jimin walked in. “He’s right, Tae. Don’t make me drag you home myself.”

Grumbling, Taehyung finally gave in, letting Jungkook guide him out of the lounge.

As he walked out, the hospital doors hissed open to the cool night air. Taehyung adjusted his bag, exhaling tiredly.

And then a hand grabbed him.

He gasped, twisting—but before he could see the face, before he could cry out, darkness swallowed him whole.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Eight – Taken

The text never came.

Jungkook had been waiting—he always waited—parked in the lot across the street, engine idling, watching the hospital doors. Taehyung always waved before heading to the bus or Jungkook’s car. Always.

But tonight, the doors opened… and then closed.

And Taehyung was gone.

Jungkook tore through the hospital halls like a storm unleashed, cedar scent sharp and jagged, demanding answers.

“Did you see him?” he barked at Hoseok at the ER desk.

“Tae? He left ten minutes ago—Jimin said you were sending him home early,” Hoseok stammered.

“He never made it to the car.” Jungkook’s voice cracked, eyes wild. “He’s gone.”

The words dropped like a stone.

Within minutes, the others were there—Yoongi, pale but steady, already on the phone with security; Jimin, frantic, demanding cameras be pulled; Namjoon, voice calm but clipped, marshaling everyone like troops; Jin, face white as he whispered, “No… no, not him.”

Jungkook stood in the center of it all, fists clenched so tightly his nails cut his palms, guilt clawing at his chest. I should have walked him out. I should have carried him. I should never have let him out of my sight.

Taehyung woke to darkness.

The air was damp, musty—concrete walls, faint hum of pipes. His wrists weren’t bound, but the locked door was enough. His wolf bristled, panicked, but he pressed both hands to the swell of his stomach and whispered to the life inside.

“It’s okay, baby. Appa will find us. You just stay calm. We’ll be okay.”

His voice shook, tears burning his eyes, but he kept speaking softly, fiercely. For the baby.

Back at the hospital, Jin’s thoughts spiraled. The words their father had hissed hours ago—I’ll find a way to get rid of one of you—echoed like poison.

It couldn’t be. It couldn’t. Their father was cruel, cold, heartless in his disdain. But evil enough to abduct his own son? Jin shook his head, forcing the thought away.

“He wouldn’t do this,” Jin muttered. “Not him. Not his own blood.”

But his hands wouldn’t stop trembling.

When the phone rang, Jin nearly dropped it. His father’s voice was cool, collected. “I heard there’s chaos at your hospital. Everything all right?”

Jin’s heart thundered. He swallowed. “Tae’s missing.”

A beat of silence. Then: “I see.” No surprise. No concern. Just clipped detachment.

“He wouldn’t hurt his own son,” Jin whispered to Namjoon after, though he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince.

Jungkook paced the doctors’ lounge like a caged wolf, storm scent thick and suffocating. Yoongi finally grabbed his arm.

“You need to breathe, Kook. We’ll find him.”

“He’s carrying my child,” Jungkook choked out, eyes wet and blazing. “If something happens to them—if something happens to him—it’ll be my fault. I should never have let him go alone.”

Yoongi squeezed his arm. “This isn’t your fault. You love him. That’s why you’ll find him.”

Jungkook pressed his fist to his mouth, trying to hold himself together, cedar and rain saturating the room. His wolf howled inside him, demanding he run, fight, find his mate.

Hours passed. Taehyung fought panic with every breath, curling on the thin mattress in the corner, whispering promises to his baby.

“Your appa will come. He always comes. We just have to be strong.”

The door creaked open.

Light spilled in, harsh against his eyes. A silhouette filled the doorway—broad-shouldered, familiar.

Taehyung’s breath stopped.

“Father,” he whispered, voice breaking.

The man stepped inside, face cold and unyielding. “You’ve caused me enough disgrace, Taehyung. It’s time you learned what happens when mistakes refuse to disappear.”

Taehyung’s wolf pressed protectively over his stomach. His heart pounded, but his voice came steady, fierce despite the terror shaking him.

“You’ll never touch my baby.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Twenty-Nine – Blood Ties

The room smelled of dust and damp concrete. The chair scraped harsh against the floor as Taehyung’s father sat, his gaze cutting into him like a blade.

“You’ve always been a thorn in my side,” he said coldly. “Your very birth ruined me. Ruined her.”

Taehyung’s chest tightened at the mention of his mother. His wolf bristled, a protective growl rumbling in his chest even as his hands clutched his stomach. “You loved her. Don’t pretend you didn’t.”

His father’s eyes flickered with something—pain, rage, guilt—but it was gone in a blink. “And because of you, she died. Because of you, the only thing I ever wanted slipped away.”

Taehyung shook his head, tears hot. “She gave me life. She’d never want you to throw it away in hate.”

“Your child will be nothing but another reminder of my shame.”

Taehyung’s wolf surged, fierce despite the tremor in his voice. “Then you’ll have to live with it. Because I won’t let you take them from me.”

At the hospital, Jungkook felt like he was unraveling. He stood at the window of the doctors’ lounge, fists braced against the glass, storm scent chokingly thick. His wolf clawed at him, demanding he run, tear down walls, find his mate.

“Cameras caught him leaving through the east entrance,” Namjoon said, phone pressed to his ear. “But no one saw who he left with. Security footage is conveniently missing.”

“Convenient,” Yoongi muttered, eyes narrowing. “Like someone with power wanted it gone.”

Jin went still. His mind replayed the conversation with their father, the lack of shock in his voice, the detached calm. His stomach turned.

“No,” he whispered. “He wouldn’t.”

Namjoon frowned. “Wouldn’t what?”

Jin swallowed hard, eyes burning. “He wouldn’t hurt his own son. He’s cruel, yes. Cold. But not this.” His hands trembled. “Not Tae.”

But the doubt twisted deeper.

Jungkook spun from the window, eyes blazing. “Then who else? Who else has motive, resources, and no conscience?!”

Silence filled the room.

Yoongi stepped forward, hand firm on Jungkook’s shoulder. “We’ll find him. No matter what it takes. You need to hold on, Kook. For Tae. For the baby.”

Jungkook’s breath shook, but he nodded. His cedar scent shifted, hardening into storm steel. “I’m not losing them. Not to him. Not to anyone.”

Taehyung sat on the mattress, every muscle tense, every breath measured. His father’s words still echoed in the air, venom dripping from them.

But when he pressed a hand to his stomach, the baby shifted, a flutter against his palm. He closed his eyes, tears streaming.

“We’re not alone,” he whispered fiercely. “Your appa will come for us. And I’ll fight until he does.”

His father sneered. “Still clinging to fantasies? You’re weak, just like her.”

Taehyung raised his head, eyes blazing through tears. “No. I’m stronger because of her. And because of them.”

That night, Jin made the call. His father’s voice was smooth, controlled, but Jin heard the truth in it now—the cold lack of care, the disdain for Taehyung’s existence.

“You took him,” Jin said, voice shaking with fury.

“You’ll keep your mouth shut if you know what’s good for you,” their father replied.

And in that moment, Jin knew. The truth he’d been denying slammed into him like ice water.

“You bastard,” Jin hissed. “If you harm him, I swear I’ll burn your empire to the ground. The world will know your sins, your affair, your hidden son. Everything.”

His father chuckled darkly. “Careful, Jin. You might lose more than you’re willing to.”

Jin’s hand trembled as he ended the call, his wolf snarling in his chest. He turned to Namjoon, Yoongi, and Jungkook. “It’s him. My father has him.”

Jungkook’s eyes turned molten gold, his Alpha wolf pressing so close it felt like the room itself shook. “Then I’m taking him back.”

Taehyung lay alone, curled protectively around his stomach, whispering into the dark.

“Hold on, baby. Just a little longer. Appa’s coming.”

And somewhere in the city, Jungkook’s wolf howled in answer.

Taehyung had stopped counting the hours. The concrete walls gave no sense of time, only the steady drip of water from somewhere unseen and the sound of his own heartbeat pounding too fast.

He pressed his palms over his stomach, whispering softly. “Just a little longer, baby. Appa’s coming.”

His wolf was restless, protective, but he forced calm into his voice. “We’re not alone. We’ll never be alone.”

The door creaked open again. His father stepped inside, face cold, eyes burning with disdain.

“You’re weaker than I thought,” he said flatly. “Still clinging to hope. Still thinking someone will come for you.”

Taehyung straightened, jaw trembling but firm. “He will. He always does.”

His father’s lip curled. “Then let him try.”

Across the city, the pack had gathered in Namjoon and Jin’s apartment. Maps, phone records, and surveillance reports were spread across the table.

“He’s off the grid,” Namjoon muttered, frustration sharpening his voice. “No credit cards, no car usage. He’s hiding Tae somewhere he controls.”

“Warehouses,” Yoongi said, scanning the city map. “He owns three near the river. Isolated. Easy to disappear someone.”

Jungkook stood at the window, fists clenched so tightly his nails bit into his palms. His cedar scent rolled sharp and heavy, storm raging barely contained.

“I don’t care if it’s the first one or the last,” he said hoarsely. “We’re checking all of them. Tonight.”

His wolf pressed hard, demanding he run now, demanding he tear apart walls until Taehyung was safe in his arms.

Jin gripped his shoulder. “We’ll find him. I swear it.” His eyes blazed. “He’s not taking my brother from me.”

The scent of blood and rust filled the warehouse. Taehyung’s heart leapt when he heard voices outside—low, urgent, familiar.

And then the door burst open.

“TAE!”

Jungkook’s storm scent crashed into the room like a wave, overwhelming, protective, fierce. His eyes glowed gold, Alpha wolf pressing so hard the air vibrated.

Taehyung sobbed in relief. “Jungkook—!”

But his father stepped between them, his hand clamping harshly on Taehyung’s arm. “Stay back,” he snapped, voice steel. “Or he pays the price.”

Jungkook froze, chest heaving, every muscle straining to lunge forward. His wolf howled inside him, and his gaze locked on Taehyung’s wide, tearful eyes. It was too much.

Jungkook’s eyes glowed gold as his cedar storm surged out of him. He took one step forward—and then his wolf tore free.

Where a man had stood, a massive wolf now prowled: black fur rippling with muscle, eyes burning with fury. The air itself seemed to bend around him.

Two of the guards lunged. Jungkook met them mid-air, claws and teeth flashing. They hit the ground hard, cries cut short under the weight of his rage. He spun, tail lashing, and sent another sprawling into the wall. The others fled, terrified, their courage useless against an Alpha storm.

"Enough!" Taehyung's father shouted out. He pressed a blade to Taehyung's throat. "Anymore bloodshed and I will end him."

Breathing hard, Jungkook shifted back, the change seamless and terrifyingly beautiful. His chest rose and fell, human again but still wild, gaze fixed on the man clutching Taehyung’s arm.

“Let him go,” Jungkook said, voice low, shaking with fury. “You want me? Fine. But you don’t touch him. Not him, not our baby.”

Taehyung’s father sneered. “Our family doesn’t need another bastard child—”

“You don’t get to decide that!” Jin’s voice cut sharp from the doorway. He stepped inside, flanked by Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok, all wolves pressing hard, the air thick with Alpha power and Omega strength. “He’s my brother. And if you don’t release him right now, the world will know everything you’ve hidden. Every secret. Every sin.”

His father’s eyes flickered. Rage twisted his face, made his body tremble.

And Taehyung knew it was now or never.

His wolf surged, strength breaking through fear. The strength of his pack around him and his child inside him more than enough.

He wrenched himself out of his father’s grasp, stumbling toward Jungkook who caught him instantly, pulling him against his chest, cedar flooding the room.

In that same breath, Jin’s snarl split the air. His wolf—a tall, lean creature with pale fur shining under the harsh lights—leapt forward and sank his teeth deep into their father’s arm.

The man screamed, staggering back. Blood soaked his sleeve.

Jin released him with a final warning growl before shifting back, his human eyes cold as steel. “That’s the last time you ever touch my brother.”

Taehyung turned immediately to Jin, voice shaking. “Thank you.”

Jin gave a sharp nod, still catching his breath. “Always.”

Taehyung nodded, then melted into Jungkook’s arms. His wolf ears flickered into place as he sobbed, relieved, into Jungkook’s chest, clinging to him as though the world would disappear if he let go.

His ears pressed against Jungkook’s chest, trembling, as if begging to be soothed.

Jungkook buried his face there, cedar scent wrapping him tight, and nuzzled around his ears with desperate tenderness. He breathed his own sigh of relief as the soft fur of Taehyung's ears faded until all he could feel were soft curls instead. Taehyung was here, he was safe. They both were.

“You’re safe,” Jungkook whispered fiercely, one hand cradling Taehyung’s head, the other protectively over his stomach. “I’ve got you.” 

Behind them, Namjoon’s voice rang cold. Alpha power radiating calm and command. “You’ve lost this fight. Walk away before you lose everything else.”

Their father’s chest heaved with rage, standing frozen for a tense moment, clutching his bleeding arm. Then, with a snarl, he turned and stalked out, shadows swallowing him.

Taehyung turned in Jungkook's arms, trembling but unbroken.

 “I knew you’d come,” he whispered.

Jungkook kissed his hair, his cheeks, his trembling lips. “Always. Nothing could keep me from you.”

The pack closed around them, protective, united. For the first time, Taehyung felt what his grandmother had always promised him:

Family. Pack. Home.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty – Healing Together

The ride back from the warehouse was silent except for the sound of Taehyung’s breath against Jungkook’s chest. He hadn’t let go, not for a second, even when Yoongi tried to insist on checking him over immediately. Jungkook carried him out himself, wrapped in his coat, cedar scent blanketing him like a shield.

At the hospital, Jimin and Hoseok hovered anxiously while Yoongi performed a careful exam.

“Baby’s heartbeat is strong,” Yoongi announced, his voice softer than anyone had ever heard it. “No injuries, just exhaustion and stress.”

Taehyung’s shoulders sagged with relief. Jungkook bowed his head, tears slipping down his cheeks as his hand stayed pressed protectively to Taehyung’s stomach.

“I should’ve—”

“No,” Taehyung whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek. His thumb brushed away a tear. “You came for me. That’s what matters.”

Jungkook kissed his palm, breathing him in like he was air.

The waiting room was full by morning. Jin and Namjoon stood close, a silent wall of support. Hoseok brought coffee and blankets. Jimin refused to leave Taehyung’s side, curling up beside him in the hospital bed.

And then Jungkook’s mother arrived, face pale, eyes wet. She took Taehyung’s hands in hers immediately. “My sweet boy,” she whispered, voice trembling. “You’ve been through so much.”

Taehyung burst into tears, clinging to her. She held him as though he were her own, stroking his hair, murmuring comfort. “You are not alone. You have me. You have all of us.”

Jungkook stood behind her, cedar scent steady and grounding, his chest aching at the sight. His mother looked back at him and nodded once. He’s ours now. Both of them.

The house was crowded that evening, but no one minded. Jin cooked, Namjoon set the table, Hoseok and Jimin bickered playfully over baby name lists. Yoongi sat quietly on the couch, sipping tea, his small smile speaking volumes.

Taehyung sat in the middle of it all, wrapped in a blanket, his head resting on Jungkook’s shoulder. For the first time since the ordeal, he laughed—soft, fragile, but real.

“This is family,” he whispered, more to himself than anyone else.

Jungkook kissed the top of his head. “The only family that matters.”

Taehyung’s grandmother’s voice echoed in his heart: You’ll never be alone, Taehyung-ah. He looked around the room—at his brother and Namjoon, at Yoongi and Jimin, at Hoseok and Jungkook’s mother—and for the first time, he believed it.

Later, when all was quiet and Taehyung was tucked in Jungkook’s bed, he stirred at the sound of soft humming.

Jungkook sat beside him, hand stroking his stomach as he sang softly under his breath. The lullaby was one Taehyung’s grandmother used to sing, passed down like a thread binding past to future.

Taehyung giggled sleepily. “You’re really singing to the baby again.”

“They should know they’re loved,” Jungkook whispered, kissing his forehead.

Taehyung’s heart ached with love so strong it almost hurt. He pulled Jungkook close, whispering, “We’re going to be okay. Because we have them. Because we have each other.”

And for the first time since the shadows of the past had risen to swallow him, Taehyung drifted into sleep without fear.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-One – This, That & the Third

The nursery was finished at last.

The lilac walls gleamed softly in the afternoon light. A mobile of stars hung above the crib, gifts from Hoseok and Jimin. Shelves lined with tiny clothes and stacks of folded blankets filled the corners. Yoongi had placed his wolf onesie front and center, pride flickering in his gummy smile whenever he looked at it.

Taehyung stood in the doorway, one hand on the curve of his belly, the other gripping the frame. His eyes shimmered. “It’s perfect.”

Jungkook slid an arm around his waist, resting his chin on Taehyung’s shoulder. “It’ll be even better when it’s filled with baby cries.”

Taehyung laughed softly, brushing at the tears that came anyway. “You’re going to be the softest dad.”

“Only for you two,” Jungkook murmured, kissing his temple.

The weeks blurred into a rhythm of preparation.

Hoseok made endless jokes about being on diaper duty, though he secretly stocked the nursery with extra supplies. Jimin practiced swaddling a stuffed animal, proud and dramatic whenever he got it right. Yoongi collected medical pamphlets and muttered about being “on call” whether they wanted him there or not.

Jin and Namjoon visited almost daily, bringing food, helping rearrange furniture, and—when Taehyung’s ankles swelled—massaging his feet while Namjoon read baby books aloud in a steady baritone.

Jungkook’s mother came with soups and teas, fussing over Taehyung until he laughed helplessly. “You’re spoiling me.”

“You deserve it,” she said warmly, cupping his face. “Both of you.”

But nights were quieter.

Jungkook often found himself awake, watching Taehyung sleep, one hand protectively splayed over his belly. The baby kicked more now, strong and insistent, and each time Jungkook felt it, his chest ached with something bigger than words.

I’ll protect you. Both of you. Always.

One night, he slipped out of bed and sat in the living room, a small velvet box hidden in his palm. The diamond wasn’t ostentatious, but it sparkled faintly under the lamplight. He turned it over in his hand, heart heavy with love and fear.

“Will you say yes?” he whispered into the quiet. “Will you believe me when I say I’ll never let you go?”

His wolf pressed close, certain. He’s ours. He’ll say yes.

Jungkook tucked the box back into his pocket, resolve settling in his chest. Soon.

Taehyung waddled into the lounge a few mornings later, rubbing his lower back.

“I feel like a whale,” he groaned, dropping onto the couch beside Jungkook.

“You’re beautiful,” Jungkook said without hesitation, kissing his cheek.

Taehyung giggled, covering his face with his hands. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Mm. Maybe. But it’s true.”

When the baby kicked suddenly, Taehyung gasped, grabbing Jungkook’s hand and pressing it against his belly.

Jungkook froze, then smiled, wide and unguarded, as he felt the small but powerful movement beneath his palm. “They’re strong. Just like you.”

Taehyung’s eyes filled with tears. “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?”

Jungkook kissed him deeply, cedar scent warm and steady. “Yes. Together.”

The pack was ready.

The nursery was ready.

And Jungkook’s heart—despite the fear—was ready too.

The end was near, but so was the beginning.

The first contraction hit in the middle of the night. Taehyung jolted awake with a gasp, clutching his stomach.

Jungkook was up in an instant, cedar scent spiking sharp. “What is it? Is it—?”

Taehyung grimaced through the pain, panting. “Contractions. They’re close. It’s time.”

The words made Jungkook’s chest seize. Time. Their baby. His world tilted and steadied all at once.

“I’ll get the bag,” he said, voice low and shaking as he grabbed the packed duffel by the door. Then he was scooping Taehyung into his arms despite protests, carrying him to the car as if the floor itself were lava.

The labour room was chaos. Nurses moved efficiently, monitors beeped, and Taehyung gripped Jungkook’s hand like a lifeline.

“It hurts,” Taehyung panted, sweat dripping down his temples.

“I know, love, I know—” Jungkook started, only to yelp when Taehyung squeezed his hand so hard his bones creaked.

“You did this to me!” Taehyung cried, eyes wild, voice high with pain. “Why did you do this to me?! I hate you!”

Jungkook blinked, torn between panic and laughter. “I—I’m sorry? You've got this I promise.”

Another contraction ripped through him, and Taehyung groaned, burying his face against Jungkook’s chest. “Never again, Jeon Jungkook. Never.”

Jungkook kissed his damp hair, heart aching with helpless love. “You can yell at me forever if it helps, just… keep going. You’re almost there.”

Outside the room, the pack paced like restless wolves. Jimin wrung his hands. “He’s screaming at him, isn’t he? I just know it.”

Yoongi smirked faintly. “He deserves it.”

Even Jungkook’s mother chuckled softly, though her eyes were wet. “It means he’s fighting. That’s good.”

Hours blurred. Jungkook held Taehyung through every contraction, wiped his forehead, whispered encouragement even when his own voice shook.

“You’re so strong,” he whispered. “I’ve never seen anyone stronger.”

Taehyung whimpered, exhausted, but clung to his hand. His wolf ears had made an appearance sometime around the second half hour when he screamed, “You did this to me, Jungkook—I hate you!”

They'd flared out, trembling with the sheer force of his pain and Jungkook, with a loving smile and teary eyes, had pressed his lips to them. “I know, love, I know. Just hold on for me.” he'd soothed and watched them fade.

Not long after—at last—the room shifted. Nurses moved faster, voices firmer. “It’s time.”

Jungkook kissed Taehyung’s temple, tears slipping down his cheeks. “We’re about to meet her, love. Just one more push.”

Taehyung cried out, body arching with effort. Jungkook held him tight, murmuring, “I’m here. I’m here. You’re not alone.”

And then—a cry.

A tiny, powerful, beautiful cry filled the room.

Taehyung sobbed, collapsing back against Jungkook’s chest. “Is she—?”

“She’s perfect,” the nurse said, placing the small, wriggling bundle onto his chest.

Taehyung’s tears flowed freely as he stared down at her. Their daughter. Her tiny fists waved, her face scrunched and red, but to him she was the most beautiful thing in the world.

“I love you,” Taehyung whispered hoarsely, kissing her damp forehead. “I love you so much. I love both of you." He said, leaning into Jungkook's touch.

His wolf ears flickered once more—then stilled and faded, soothed at last by the bond of family.

Jungkook leaned over them both, cedar scent soft and trembling, his tears falling onto Taehyung’s shoulder. “Our little girl,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her tiny head. "I love you both too"

For a moment, the world stopped. It was just the three of them.

Later, as Taehyung held their daughter, his voice cracked. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. I didn’t mean—”

Jungkook silenced him with a kiss to his hair. “Don’t even. You brought our baby girl into the world safely, through pain I can’t even imagine. You don’t need to apologize for surviving. I love you. Both of you. So much.”

Taehyung’s throat tightened. He looked down at the tiny life in his arms, then up at Jungkook, his heart overflowing. “I love you too.”

Their daughter let out a soft, hiccuping coo, and Taehyung giggled through his tears.

“She already sounds like you,” Jungkook teased, kissing them both again.

And in that hospital room, surrounded by love and exhaustion, they became something new. Not just doctor and resident, not just lovers, not just wolves bound by instinct—

They became a family.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-two – New Rhythms

The days after Luna’s birth blurred into something entirely new.

Nights were punctuated by soft cries, by feedings and diaper changes, by Taehyung pacing the nursery with her tiny body cradled against his chest. Jungkook was never far, hovering protectively, his cedar scent wrapping around them like a shield.

“I think she already has your stubbornness,” Taehyung teased one bleary morning, rocking Luna as she fussed.

Jungkook chuckled, brushing a thumb over their daughter’s downy hair. “Or your dramatics.”

Taehyung gasped. “Excuse me?!”

Luna hiccuped between cries, as if laughing at them both.

They named her Luna on the third day.

“She’s the light that broke through our darkness,” Taehyung whispered, gazing down at her sleeping face. “Our little moon.”

“Luna,” Jungkook murmured, testing the name on his tongue. He kissed her tiny forehead. “Perfect.”

The pack agreed wholeheartedly. Hoseok immediately made wolf-moon jokes, Jimin wept openly, Yoongi simply muttered “fitting” before sneaking off to buy her a star-patterned blanket, and Jin and Namjoon beamed like proud uncles. Jungkook’s mother kissed Taehyung’s cheeks, whispering, “She’s already so loved.”

Despite exhaustion, the sweet moments outweighed the difficult.

Taehyung giggled when Jungkook fell asleep upright in the rocking chair, Luna snuggled to his chest. Jungkook teased Taehyung about his “serious lullaby voice” even though Taehyung swore it was what made Luna settle faster. They both cried the first time she gripped their fingers with her tiny fists.

Their wolves purred constantly, soothed by the pack’s newest member.

It was almost two weeks later when they finally found a sliver of time for themselves.

Luna was asleep, bundled safely in her crib. The house was quiet, moonlight spilling across the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Taehyung leaned back against the couch, exhaustion etched into his features but his eyes bright as they followed Jungkook. “She’s finally down.”

Jungkook smiled softly, settling beside him, one arm wrapping around his waist. “Which means I get you back for a little while.”

Taehyung’s laugh was quiet, breathless. “You’re insatiable.”

“Not insatiable,” Jungkook corrected, leaning close, his lips brushing Taehyung’s jaw. “Just in love.”

Taehyung shivered, his hands sliding up Jungkook’s arms. Their kiss started soft but deepened quickly, hunger sparking beneath tenderness.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” Jungkook murmured against his lips, though his hands were already sliding under Taehyung’s shirt.

“I’ve missed you,” Taehyung whispered back. “I want this. I want you.”

Jungkook's strong arms enveloped Taehyung, lifting him with ease as if he were a feather. The younger man's laughter rumbled against Jungkook's chest, a soft, warm sound that soothed the alpha's soul. They had to be careful, their precious daughter, Luna, slept soundly downstairs, unaware of the love that burned between her parents.

Upstairs, in their sanctuary, Jungkook gently placed Taehyung on the bed, his touch tender yet firm. The omega's eyes shone with adoration as he watched his mate, a smile playing on his lips. Jungkook's gaze roamed over Taehyung's face, taking in every feature, every line, every freckle—a map he knew by heart.

Leaning in, Jungkook brushed his lips against Taehyung's, a soft, feather-light kiss that spoke of infinite love and desire. His hands, calloused from years of medical practice, traced the omega's body with reverence, lingering on the flat plane of his stomach, where their daughter had grown. Jungkook pressed a kiss there, his eyes closing as he felt the warmth of Taehyung's skin beneath his mouth.

"You gave me her," Jungkook whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "You gave me everything I could ever want."

Taehyung's breath caught, and he reached up, cupping Jungkook's face in his hands. The omega's touch was gentle, yet it held a strength that matched his own. Pulling Jungkook closer, he deepened the kiss, their tongues tangling in a dance as old as time.

Their bodies moved together, a slow, sensual rhythm that spoke of years of familiarity and trust. Taehyung's hands roamed, exploring the broad shoulders, the defined muscles, the smooth skin of his alpha. Jungkook groaned softly, his control slipping as Taehyung's skilled fingers worked their magic.

The omega's mouth found its way to Jungkook's neck, sucking and nibbling, leaving a trail of heated marks. Jungkook's hands fisted in the sheets, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He had missed this, missed the feel of Taehyung's body against his, the taste of his skin, the sound of his soft moans.

Taehyung's mouth traveled lower, kissing a path down Jungkook's chest, his skilled lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire. The alpha's cock hardened, pressing against the fabric of his pants, demanding attention. Taehyung's fingers worked at the buttons, eager to free the straining flesh.

As Taehyung's mouth closed around Jungkook's cock, a low, primal sound escaped the alpha. His hips bucked, seeking more, needing more. Taehyung's mouth was a haven, a place of pure pleasure, and Jungkook was lost in it, his eyes fluttering shut as he gave himself over to the omega's skilled touch.

Taehyung's hands stroked Jungkook's thighs, his fingers dancing along the sensitive skin, teasing, tempting. He knew just how to drive his mate wild, and he relished in the power he held over the usually dominant alpha.

Jungkook's hands fisted in Taehyung's hair, guiding the omega's mouth, setting a pace that matched his own need. His eyes snapped open, a look of pure pleasure and desire as he watched Taehyung work him, his mouth a perfect, wet haven.

As Taehyung brought Jungkook to the brink, the alpha's body tensed, his muscles coiled tight. With a final, desperate thrust of his hips, he came, his seed filling Taehyung's mouth. The omega swallowed, taking all of Jungkook within him, a silent promise of love and devotion.

Collapsing onto the bed, Jungkook's chest heaved, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Taehyung's mouth found his, a soft, tender kiss that spoke of comfort and love. They lay there, tangled in each other's arms, their hearts beating in sync.

"We're parents now," Taehyung murmured, his voice soft with wonder. "We shouldn't be sneaking around like this."

Jungkook smiled, a look of pure contentment on his face. "We're not sneaking, Tae. We're living. Together."

The omega's heart swelled, and he pressed a kiss to Jungkook's chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath his lips. They had weathered storms, faced challenges, and now, they stood together, stronger than ever, a family.

As they lay there, the moonlight casting a soft glow over their entwined forms, they felt a sense of peace and completeness. Luna's presence, though absent, was felt in the love that bound them together.

And so, in the quiet of the night, they found solace and passion, a reminder that their love story was far from over.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-Three – A Promise Under the Moon

The house was warm with the sound of family. Jimin and Hoseok were sprawled on the floor with Luna, pulling faces that made her coo. Yoongi sat back with his tea, smug as ever, though the way he kept peeking at Luna’s tiny hands gave him away. Jin and Namjoon filled the kitchen with chatter as they cleaned up after dinner, and Jungkook’s mother knit a little cap for her granddaughter, humming softly.

Taehyung sat curled on the couch, Luna nestled in his arms. He had never felt so full, so surrounded, so loved.

The next morning, an envelope came from the hospital. Taehyung’s hands trembled as he opened it.

“Is it—?” Jungkook started, cedar scent already sharp with anticipation.

Taehyung’s eyes filled with tears as he read the letter. “I passed.” His voice cracked. “I passed my end-of-year exams.”

The hospital had allowed him to take them late, after the kidnapping, and he had walked into the exam room still healing, still shaken. But he had passed.

Jungkook swept him into his arms, lifting him off the floor and spinning him gently. “Of course you did. You’re brilliant.”

Taehyung laughed through his tears, kissing him. “I’m still a doctor.”

“You’re more than that,” Jungkook whispered, his hand drifting to his waist, then his stomach, where Luna had once been. “You’re everything.”

Later, in the nursery, while Luna dozed peacefully, Taehyung stroked her soft hair and murmured, “When do you think I should go back? Residency doesn’t wait forever.”

Jungkook crouched beside him, resting a hand on his knee. “When you’re ready. Not before.”

“But I don’t want people thinking I can’t do it. That being a father makes me weak.”

Jungkook’s cedar scent wrapped around him, steady and grounding. “No one who’s seen you survive everything you’ve survived would ever call you weak. You’ll go back when you want to. And when you do, I’ll be right there.”

Taehyung smiled faintly, tears stinging his eyes. “You always know what to say.”

Jungkook kissed his hand. “Because I mean every word.”

That night, the pack left after dinner, Luna tucked snug in her crib. The house was quiet again, moonlight spilling through the tall windows.

Jungkook led Taehyung outside, where the air was cool and the trees whispered softly around them. He paused under the wide open sky, his wolf calm but pressing close.

“Taehyung.”

Taehyung tilted his head, curls glowing silver in the moonlight. “Hmm?”

Jungkook took his hands, pulling him close. His cedar scent shifted—steady, grounding, trembling at the edges. He reached into his pocket and dropped to one knee.

Taehyung gasped, his hands flying to his mouth.

“From the moment you stumbled into my OR, I fought you. I fought what I felt, what I wanted. But you never stopped fighting for me, for patients, for us. You gave me back my mother, my hope, my heart. You gave me our daughter. And now I want to give you everything. Forever.”

He opened the small velvet box. The diamond sparkled softly under the moonlight.

“Kim Taehyung,” Jungkook whispered, voice breaking. “Will you marry me?”

Tears spilled down Taehyung’s cheeks. His wolf pressed so close it was almost painful, the instinct to say yes overwhelming. He dropped to his knees, cupping Jungkook’s face, his lips trembling into a smile.

“Yes,” he sobbed. “Of course, yes.”

Jungkook kissed him fiercely, tears mixing with laughter as he pulled Taehyung against him. “You’re mine. Always.”

“And you’re mine,” Taehyung whispered, resting his forehead against his. “We’re Luna’s. We’re a family.”

From the nursery, as if on cue, Luna let out a soft cry. They both laughed through their tears.

“Even she approves,” Taehyung giggled.

Jungkook kissed him again, cedar scent warm and endless. “Then it’s decided. Forever, under the moon.”

And above them, the moonlight spilled silver, blessing their promise.

Chapter Text

Chapter Thirty-Four – Always

Spring leaked into Seoul like a promise—soft rain on new leaves, sunlight pooling on sidewalks, the city humming beneath a sky the color of fresh linen. In the lilac nursery, Luna discovered her hands and squealed like she’d invented joy. Taehyung filmed it on his phone, tearful and grinning, while Jungkook made the same overwhelmed noise every time—somewhere between a laugh and a prayer.

“Two geniuses,” Hoseok declared, popping into frame with a squeaky giraffe. “She invented hands, and you two invented this level of mush.”

“Uncle Hoseok,” Taehyung scolded through his smile, “show some respect to the inventor of hands.”

Luna gurgled. Case closed.

Silk, Lace, and Loud Opinions

The tailor’s studio smelled like steam and new fabric. A long mirror reflected Taehyung on the dais, as ethereal as a watercolor: an ivory silk suit cut close at the waist, lapels sheathed in lace so fine it looked like frost. The jacket curved over his shoulders, a traditional hanbok-inspired pleating along the back that moved when he breathed. A hand-embroidered crescent moon peeked on the inside lining—Jimin’s idea, of course.

“Oh,” Jin breathed, hand to heart. “That’s it. That’s the one that’s going to make the entire guest list cry.”

“I’m already crying,” Jimin sniffed, unapologetically dabbing at his eyes. “And I picked this. I did this.”

Yoongi sat cross-legged on the chaise, a cracker between his fingers, looking unreasonably smug for someone quietly battling first-trimester queasiness. “You look like moonlight,” he said simply. “He’s going to forget how to stand upright.”

Taehyung’s cheeks pinked. “Do I look…too much?”

“Too much?” Jimin squawked. “You are marrying Jeon Jungkook, Seoul’s storm prince and resident legend. There is no such thing as too much.”

Jin circled, assessing like a chief in a trauma bay. “We’ll let out the hem a touch so you can breathe when your husband kisses you senseless. And add the silk frog closures here—” He tapped the breastbone, then softened. “Halmeoni would love this, Tae.”

Taehyung’s eyes shone. He nodded without trusting words. Yoongi, eyes gentle, patted the space beside him until Taehyung stepped off the dais and folded into a brief hug that smelled like cinnamon and ginger tea.

“Eat a cracker,” Yoongi said, handing one over with deadpan authority. “Doctor’s orders.”

“Paediatric surgeon’s orders,” Jimin corrected, lifting his chin.

“Paediatric surgeon who is,” Jin added, eyes darting to Yoongi, “expecting.”

Taehyung’s mouth fell open. Then he squealed so loudly the tailor dropped a pin. “You didn’t tell me yet!”

Yoongi’s gummy smile bloomed. “We found out last week. Due in six months.”

Taehyung launched himself into another hug, careful and delighted. “Luna’s getting a cousin!”

“More like a co-conspirator,” Jimin muttered, though his eyes were soft.

Storms That Leave on Time

Three floors up at Sejong Medical, Jungkook rinsed his hands at the scrub sink, studying his reflection the way he once studied disaster—closely, clinically, ready for impact. Today it just looked like a man in love who’d learned to leave on time.

Yoongi leaned against the doorframe, sipping tea. “Are you…checking the clock?”

Jungkook tried not to smile. Failed. “I promised I’d be home for bath time.”

Yoongi’s gaze warmed, pride slipping past his usual dry affect. “You used to measure days by cases. Now you measure them in bedtime stories.”

“Both,” Jungkook admitted. He dried his hands and reached for his coat. “The patient in 7B needs an echo by noon tomorrow. I wrote the orders. Namjoon’s signing off.”

Yoongi’s brows inched up. “You’re…leaving orders. For someone else. And walking out before dark.”

Jungkook’s laugh was quiet, real. “I’m going home.”

Yoongi set his tea down and pulled him into a one-armed hug that smelled like mint and steel. “I’m proud of you, Kook. For being brilliant here.” He tapped the hospital logo. “And for choosing love over penance out there.” He nudged toward the city. “It suits you.”

Jungkook held the words for a breath, the way you hold something precious and surprising. “Thank you,” he said simply. “For pushing me when I needed it.”

“Always,” Yoongi said. “Now go. Your family is waiting.”

The Three of Us

Evenings became a ritual of small, holy things. Luna’s bath—a tiny sea of bubbles, her fat fists splashing, Taehyung singing nonsense songs off-key to make her coo. Pajamas with stars. A bottle warmed to the exact right temperature because Jungkook had an unerring eye for “exact right.”

“Story?” Taehyung asked, sliding into the nursery chair, Luna a warm weight against his chest.

Jungkook took the book from the shelf, his cedar scent filling the room, voice turning low and soft. He read about a little wolf who followed the moon home. With every page, Luna’s blinks slowed. With every paragraph, Taehyung fell in love all over again—with the storm-soft voice, with the way Jungkook’s fingers stroked Luna’s tiny foot without noticing, with the life they’d built inside these lilac walls.

Later, with Luna asleep, they stretched on the rug and planned forever.

“What about autumn for the wedding?” Taehyung traced patterns on Jungkook’s palm. “We can hang lanterns in the garden. Stars above us, stars below.”

“Autumn,” Jungkook agreed, kissing his ring. “And vows under the trees.”

“And you’ll cry,” Taehyung teased.

“I’ll deny it,” Jungkook said, unblinking. “But yes.”

The Wedding

They chose Jungkook’s home for the ceremony—its broad deck opening onto a lawn edged in trees, the Han River a silver ribbon beyond. Paper lanterns swung like moons from branches. A path of white petals led to an arch woven with eucalyptus and baby’s breath. The pack arrived early and stayed late, buzzing like happy bees: Hoseok testing microphones, Jin fussing over chairs, Namjoon checking the weather app every seven minutes as if willpower could hold the clouds at bay. Jungkook’s mother moved through it all with a basket of handkerchiefs and quiet joy.

Jungkook stepped out in a deep midnight suit with a silk tie the color of moonlight. He was devastating without trying and tried even less when he saw Taehyung at the end of the path.

Taehyung’s suit turned the world into hush: ivory silk, lace catching the light like frost, a crescent stitched inside the lapel. He carried Luna, now six months old and regal in a tiny dress with a satin bow and the smallest flower crown that ever existed. Jimin walked beside them as escort, tearful and smug. Yoongi—glowing in that subtle, early-pregnancy way—kept a steadying hand at Taehyung’s elbow and a protective eye on Luna’s flower crown.

Namjoon officiated, the earth in his voice turning words into roots.

“We are here,” he began, dimples deep and eyes bright, “to gather what love has already bound.”

Their vows were simple and honest.

“I thought I had to be a storm forever,” Jungkook said, voice catching. “You taught me how to be rain. To let go go of anger and sadness gently like a light drizzle and to love fiercely and openly like the sky opening to a heavy downpour. And I will be the sky, the moon or the sun for you, whatever you need. I will be yours always."

Taehyung’s laugh trembled. “I thought I had to be sunshine even when I was breaking. You gave me a place to rest. To be honest. To learn to find my way in the darkness and accept the light of those around me. I am yours always, maybe even before I knew what belonging to someone meant. And Luna and I, we're so lucky you're ours."

Jin sniffled loudly. Hoseok offered him a handkerchief. Jimin used his sleeve. Yoongi rolled his eyes and passed out tissues like syringes.

The garden was hushed, lanterns swaying above as Namjoon’s voice carried the vows. Jungkook’s hands shook slightly as he slid the ring onto Taehyung’s finger, but before he let go, his thumb pressed gently over Taehyung’s wrist—the same place he had touched so many times before.

Taehyung looked up sharply, eyes wide and shining, the memory flashing between them: the hallway, the supply closet, the exam room, all the moments that had brought them here.

Jungkook’s cedar scent deepened, steady and sure. He leaned close enough for only Taehyung to hear. “Always.”

Tears slipped down Taehyung’s cheeks, but his smile was radiant. “Always,” he whispered back.

And this time, the touch wasn’t about tension or fear or even reassurance—it was about forever.

Rings were exchanged. A kiss that tasted like eucalyptus and relief was shared. And then Luna, indignant at being left out, let out a triumphant squeal that made everyone laugh. Jungkook scooped her up between them so their second kiss included chubby cheeks and a delighted baby hand trying to pat the silk tie.

“Family,” Namjoon said, sealing it.

Toasts, Dances, Promises

Hoseok emceed with the chaotic elegance of a man born to warm a room. “To the newlyweds,” he crowed, “may you always have snacks in your diaper bag and love in your pocket.”

Jimin’s toast was half roast, half hymn. “Taehyung, you make everything softer. Jungkook, you make everything safer. Together, you make sense.”

Yoongi kept his short. “I told you so.” The room erupted.

Jin set his glass down and stepped close, voice thick. “I missed so many firsts in your life, Tae. I won’t miss any more. To the brother I found, to the brother I chose—may every day ahead be softer than the days behind.”

Jungkook’s mother took Taehyung’s hands. “I loved the boy you fell in love with. I love the man you helped him become. Thank you for giving me two children and a granddaughter to adore.” She turned to Jungkook, thumb brushing his cheek like he was still her boy. “You did well.”

They danced under lanterns. Taehyung swayed with Luna pressed to his chest; Jungkook pressed his forehead to theirs and made a vow the stars could hear. When the music slowed, Jungkook led Taehyung into the darker edge of the garden, where crickets sang and the air smelled like new leaves.

“Thank you for marrying me,” Jungkook said, breath warm against Taehyung’s ear.

“Thank you for asking,” Taehyung whispered back, smile against his mouth.

The First Night Apart

It took an entire village to pry Luna from her parents’ arms for one night. Jimin arrived with a diaper bag packed to military specs and a spreadsheet (“Feeding, burping, burp preferences”). Yoongi—in love and lightly nauseated—patted the bag like it was a patient. “We’ve got her. Go be newlyweds.”

Jungkook crouched to Luna’s eye level. “We’re two houses away, little moon. Scream once if you need me.”

“She will not scream once,” Jimin promised. “She will coo sweetly and go to sleep like an angel.”

Luna squealed. Yoongi nodded, serene as a monk. “Translation: she will unionize.”

Taehyung kissed their daughter’s forehead for the tenth time, heart tugging in two directions at once. Jungkook slid an arm around his waist, steadying. “She’s safe,” he murmured. “With family.”

“Okay,” Taehyung exhaled, smiling. “Okay.”

“Go,” Jimin shooed, flapping his hands. “Before I start crying.”

“You already are,” Yoongi said fondly, handing him a tissue.

The Mating Night

The house felt different without Luna’s gentle chorus. Not empty—just quiet, like the space between heartbeats. Moonlight poured through the windows, making pale silver of the floorboards. The lilac nursery down the hall glowed like a memory.

Jungkook closed the door to their bedroom and turned the lock, not because they needed it, but because it felt like a promise: this time is only ours.

Taehyung stood by the window, the silk of his shirt catching the moonlight, curls soft against his brow. When Jungkook came to him, he didn’t speak at first. He just cupped Taehyung’s face and looked, like he was taking a photograph his heart would keep forever.

“My husband,” he said softly, tasting the word.

Taehyung’s smile was a lantern lit from the inside. “My husband.”

They kissed like the first day and the last—slow, reverent, a map of every storm they’d weathered and every morning after. Clothes became a trail across the room, not hurried but deliberate, each button and fold an unveiling of trust. Skin found skin, the old hunger braided through with something steadier now—always.

“Are you sure?” Jungkook murmured, his voice thick with emotion, his thumb brushing the rapid pulse at Taehyung’s throat.

Taehyung opened his eyes, his gaze steady and wolfish, a spark of certainty burning in its depths. “Yes,” he replied, his voice low and sure. “I want you. I want this.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning, as Jungkook’s hands continued their slow exploration. Their lips met again, hungrier this time, their bodies pressing together in a way that felt both old and eternal. Jungkook’s hands slid down Taehyung’s back, mapping the curves and planes of his body with reverence, while Taehyung’s fingers worked at the buttons of Jungkook’s pants, their movements unhurried, the night stretching wide around them.

Skin met skin, warm and eager, as the last of their clothes fell away. Jungkook’s breath caught at the sight of Taehyung, his body lit by the soft glow of moonlight, every mole and scar a testament to the life they’d lived together. Taehyung’s eyes roamed over Jungkook with equal hunger, his lips curving into a smile that was both tender and wicked. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his hand reaching out to trace the line of Jungkook’s jaw.

“You’re the only one who’d think so my love”Jungkook replied, his voice shaking slightly as he pulled Taehyung closer, their bodies flush against one another. His hands moved down, tracing the contours of Taehyung’s hips, his fingers dipping lower to tease the sensitive skin of his thighs. Taehyung gasped, “No, you-ngh” he said, his head falling back as Jungkook’s lips followed the path of his hands, kissing and nipping at the skin they encountered, “You’ve always been beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you.” Jungkook smiled against his skin.

They moved together with the easy grace of people who knew the other’s breath. There was no rush; the night was wide. Jungkook’s hands were careful, worshipful. Taehyung’s sighs were yes after yes after yes.

When their bodies finally connected, they were both so worked up from kisses and touches, it took only a few hard, achingly slow thrusts before they were writhing against each other. “Fuck, you feel so good baby. My beautiful omega.”

Taehyung cried out, his hips thrusting up to meet Jungkook’s as they worked each other up to their highest point. “You too, god you too Kook.” 

The room was filled with the sounds of their breathing, heavy and uneven, punctuated by Taehyung’s soft sighs and sensual moans as Jungkook’s mouth explored the hollow of his throat, the curve of his shoulder. “Now?” Jungkook asked, his voice shaky, his breath warm against Taehyung’s skin.

Taehyung tilted his head, exposing the slope of his shoulder, his eyes gleaming with certainty. “Now my Alpha,” he whispered, his voice a promise. Jungkook’s teeth grazed Taehyung’s skin, a bite that was both tender and fierce, a claim that felt like a prayer. Warmth bloomed where their skin met, a heat that spread through Taehyung’s body, his wolf awakening to the bond being forged. Taehyung gasped, his hands clutching at Jungkook’s shoulders as his cock exploded with cum and the mark was made, a crescent moon glowing faintly on his skin.

Without hesitation, Taehyung responded in kind, his mouth pressing to Jungkook’s shoulder, his teeth grazing the skin with equal tenderness and resolve. Jungkook shuddered, cumming just as hard, his head falling back as the bond snapped into place, a sweetness that made them both laugh and weep simultaneously. Their wolves howled, not in hunger, but in recognition of home, the sound echoing in their minds as they clung to each other.

Entwined, they remained, their pulses syncing, their breaths mingling as they laughed and cried, the emotions too vast to contain. Jungkook’s hands moved to the mark on Taehyung’s shoulder, his lips pressing soft kisses to the crescent moon and the freckles that surrounded it. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Taehyung smiled, his fingers threading through Jungkook’s hair, pulling him closer for another kiss. “I can feel you,” he said, awestruck, his voice trembling. “Like cedar and rain at the back of my heart.”

Jungkook pressed his brow to Taehyung’s, his eyes closing as he savored the moment. “And you feel like cinnamon and morning,” he replied, his voice soft. “I’ll never be lost again.”

Their laughter mingled with soft kisses, the bond humming low and sure between them. As sleep began to claim them, they remained tangled in moonlight, their matching crescent marks glowing warm on their shoulders, a silent testament to the forever they’d found in each other. The night sealed their bond, a promise written in skin and soul, as they drifted into a slumber that felt like coming home.

Morning brought texts from Jimin with seventeen photos of Luna (“She slept 3.2 hours! Ate 6 ounces! Learned French!”) and a video of Yoongi sleepily narrating a 3 a.m. bottle with the gravitas of a news anchor. Jungkook and Taehyung watched them in bed, laughing, fingers laced.

“We did it,” Taehyung whispered.

“We are doing it,” Jungkook corrected, kissing his temple. “Every day.”

Under The Moon

The moon hung heavy and silver above the trees when Jungkook and Taehyung slipped out of the house, leaving Jin and Namjoon happily fussing over Luna.

On the lawn, they shifted together, the change now as natural as breathing.

Jungkook’s storm-dark wolf stood proud and broad, cedar scent rolling like thunder. Beside him, Taehyung’s wolf—sleek and lithe, fur warm brown under the moonlight—bumped his shoulder, boxy smile transmuted into a soft nuzzle.

They ran. Through the trees, paws pounding the earth, wind slicing past their fur. Wolves at their purest: free, fast, alive.

When they finally stopped by the riverbank, Taehyung padded close and brushed his head under Jungkook’s jaw. Jungkook lowered himself, nuzzling back, their wolves humming with the bond between them. They sat pressed together, watching the moon’s reflection ripple on the water.

Then Jungkook rolled him gently onto the grass, teeth scraping in playful demand. Taehyung answered with a nip of his own, laughter bright in their bond. The world narrowed to touch and warmth, their wolves making love in the ancient way—pure instinct, pure devotion.

Afterward, they lay side by side, tangled in fur and heartbeat, gazing at the sky. The moon bathed them in silver, their crescent mating marks glowing faintly beneath their fur.

Taehyung sighed contentedly, brushing his muzzle against Jungkook’s. We should go back soon.

Jungkook’s wolf rumbled, warm and certain. To our Luna.

Together, they rose and padded home.

And under the moon that had witnessed their storms, their bond, and their forever, they carried love back to where it belonged.

Tomorrow, Forever & a Day

Back at the hospital a week later, Taehyung handed in his return-to-rotations form with a little tremor of excitement. Namjoon read it, signed, and squeezed his shoulder. “Welcome back, Dr. Kim. Your patients missed you.”

“So did I,” Jungkook murmured at his ear, passing in the corridor with a stack of charts and a look that promised dinner at home on time.

On a sunlit Saturday, the pack picnicked by the river. Hoseok taught Luna the fine art of blowing raspberries. Jin argued with Jimin about stroller engineering. Namjoon read a board book in a voice that made nearby toddlers flock to him like ducklings. Yoongi, one hand absently at the gentle curve of his belly, leaned against Jungkook’s mother and traded recipes for soups that heal everything.

Taehyung sat on a blanket with his back to Jungkook’s chest, Luna sprawled between them, fascinated by grass. The mating marks peeked where their shirts slipped, two quiet moons in the daylight. Taehyung tipped his head back until it fit under Jungkook’s chin.

“Do you ever think about how it started?” he asked. “How impossible it felt?”

Jungkook smiled into his hair. “Every day.” He kissed the curl at Taehyung’s neck. “And every day I think: thank god for impossible things.”

Luna squealed, reaching for the sky. Taehyung lifted her up, and Jungkook laid a steadying hand atop both of theirs.

“Ready?” Taehyung whispered to their daughter, to the life racing ahead to meet them.

“Always,” Jungkook answered for all three of them.

The river shone. The pack laughed. Somewhere, a memory of a grandmother’s lullaby threaded through the wind. And under a sky as blue as forever, love kept doing what it does best: staying.

— The End 🌙🐺