Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There were lots of things Jungkook liked about his new neighbourhood, but the most was that it was quiet. That heavy, still silence that only came from money and tall hedges. The kind of silence you couldn’t get anywhere near Seoul. Here, he could breathe. Walk. Think. Avoid people. Which was sort of his whole life goal at this point.

So, of course, the silence was the first thing to go.

It started with the sound of wheels. Small, strained, plasticky ones. The kind that suggested a suitcase being dragged over pavement by someone who had definitely overpacked.

Jungkook paused mid-step and turned his head.

And there he was.

Not the suitcase. The guy. Omega. Blond, flushed from the sun, curls falling into his eyes like he’d just stepped out of a shampoo commercial. He was tall, lean, and radiated the exact kind of chaotic energy Jungkook had spent years training himself to avoid.

And he was walking straight toward him.

Jungkook’s grip on Bam’s leash tightened.

Okay. Breathe. This was probably just a normal person. With a suitcase. Walking directly at him. While making eye contact. And smiling.

Shit.

“Hey!” the guy called out, as if they were already friends. “Sorry to bother you. Do you know where 17B is?”

Jungkook didn’t answer right away. His brain was still catching up, trying to cross-reference the Omega’s face with any recent sasaeng sightings. Hadn’t someone tried to send him scented mail last week? Or maybe this was the one who camped outside the gym pretending to be an Uber driver—

“It’s two houses down,” he said flatly, eyes narrowing.

The guy looked down at his phone, then laughed, cheeks flushed even pinker. “Ah, shit. I literally passed it. Twice.”

He wasn’t holding a camera. His phone was unlocked on Google Maps. His scent was clean, berries, Jungkook noticed, and unbothered. No spike of nerves. No excitement. No desperation. Just…warm.

Too warm.

“I just moved in,” the Omega added, gesturing vaguely with his phone like it was part of a TED Talk. “Well, moving in. The movers don’t get here until this afternoon. So I’m technically squatting with shampoo and one very loud suitcase.”

Jungkook stared.

This didn’t feel like a setup. He wasn’t good at reading people, but he was decent at spotting when someone was bullshitting.

And this guy wasn’t bullshitting. 

He was just… talking. Like a normal person. Who had no idea who the hell he was.

“…You’re new to the area?” Jungkook asked carefully.

“Yup. Place smells like fresh paint and poor life decisions,” the guy grinned. “But I got a good deal.”

Jungkook nodded once. He should leave. Say good luck and walk away. But Bam was sniffing the stranger’s shoes like they held all the secrets of the universe, and the guy didn’t seem fazed at all. If anything, he was…

What was the word?

Chipper.

Jungkook hated chipper.

“So is this, like… a fancy neighbourhood?” the Omega asked, looking around. “Do I have to start pretending I like golf?”

“No one here plays golf,” Jungkook muttered.

“Oh, thank god. You looked like the type to murder me with a 9-iron if I guessed wrong.”

Jungkook blinked. “What?”

“Kidding,” the guy grinned. “Mostly.”

Silence fell again, stretching awkwardly between them. The Omega looked down at Bam, who had now progressed to wagging his tail like a metronome and doing a slow sit. That was Bam’s highest form of praise. He didn’t sit for just anyone.

“Okay to touch?” the guy asked, eyes bright as he gestured toward the dog.

Jungkook’s breath caught in his throat.

Wait. What?

Was he—

Jungkook didn’t answer. He just stared.

The Omega’s eyes widened. “Oh,” he said quickly, stepping back a little. “He bites?”

Jungkook blinked. “What?”

“The dog,” he clarified, nodding toward Bam. “I just figured—big guy, maybe not super friendly?”

Jungkook made a sound that might’ve been a scoff or a glitch in the matrix. “You can pet,” he said, sharp and awkward.

And then, before Jungkook could even process what was happening, the guy dropped to his knees right there on the sidewalk and started speaking in a baby voice .

“Oh my god, you’re such a good boy,” he cooed. “Look at you! Are you a prince? You’re totally a prince. Look at those ears. You’re like a deer. You’re perfect.”

Bam wagged his tail like his life depended on it. Sat again. Flopped. Rolled onto his back like a traitor.

Jungkook stared, utterly betrayed.

Bam had never rolled over for anyone.

Not Yoongi. Not even Jin when he brought treats shaped like tiny steaks.

The Omega scratched behind Bam’s ears like they’d known each other for years, all while Jungkook stood there, silent, awkward, possibly malfunctioning.

Then, as suddenly as he’d crouched, the Omega stood back up, brushing his knees off like nothing had happened.

“Anyway,” he said brightly, “thanks for the directions. See you around, neighbour.”

And then he turned and walked away. Just like that. No selfie. No flirty comment. No weird lingering stare.

Jungkook watched him go, utterly disoriented.

Bam let out a soft whine.

“You’re a traitor,” Jungkook muttered to the dog.

Bam yawned, content.

Jungkook stood there another full thirty seconds before dragging himself back toward the house, brain still buffering.

🍓

Jungkook locked the front door, took off his shoes, and stared into the silence of his stupidly large house.

Bam jogged in like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just betrayed his own kind for five minutes of ear scratches from a total stranger.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jungkook muttered, pointing a finger as he made his way to the kitchen. “You rolled over. You don’t roll over for anyone.”

Bam sneezed.

“I’m not spiralling,” Jungkook informed no one, absolutely spiralling. “I’m just being cautious.”

He set his water bottle on the counter, then stood there in silence for a moment, before walking, very calmly, very maturely, over to his tablet screen in the living room.

It was mounted near the thermostat, linked to the exterior security cameras. Jungkook tapped the display and scrolled back about ten minutes.

There he was.

Suitcase Omega. Smiling. Asking for directions. Petting Bam like they were best friends from a past life. Jungkook watched himself stand there like an awkward brick while the guy dropped to his knees and baby-talked his dog into full submission.

He fast-forwarded a little. There it was, the Omega brushing off his knees, smiling, saying “see you around,” and just walking away.

No lingering glances. No looking back. No sneaky pictures. Not even a double-take.

The guy had walked up, asked for directions, flirted with his dog, and left. Like it was normal.

Like Jungkook was normal.

“What the fuck,” he whispered to himself.

Bam padded over and sat at his feet like a little angel.

“You’re too trusting,” Jungkook said, tapping the tablet again, rewinding the footage like he was analysing a sports replay. “That guy could’ve been anyone. He could’ve been a handler. A decoy. A—”

Bam barked once.

Jungkook sighed.

“...Yeah. Okay. Fine. He’s probably not a stalker.”

He tapped the screen again, paused on a frame where the Omega was mid-laugh, hand resting on Bam’s head. The curls were falling over his eyes again. He looked happy. Warm. Real.

Jungkook shut off the screen.

“Still not letting you see him again,” he muttered.

Bam wagged his tail.

🍓

Jungkook didn’t leave the house often.

He had groceries delivered. People. Assistants. Systems. That was the point of being rich and paranoid. But today he wanted fruit. Fresh fruit. Like a real person.

So now he was at the local organic grocery store two neighbourhoods over, hoodie up, mask on, headphones in (not playing music) and carefully avoiding everyone in the dairy aisle.

He reached for a pack of blueberries.

And froze.

There. Standing in front of the granola bars like a living pop-up ad for casual Omega perfection: suitcase guy. No suitcase this time. Just wide-leg pants, a big cardigan, and a basket full of aggressively non-threatening items like almond milk and peaches.

He planned this.

There was no other explanation. Jungkook had left the house at a random time. He hadn’t told anyone he was going out. This place wasn’t even that close to their neighbourhood.

Which meant, obviously , this Omega had staked out his house, watched him leave, and followed him here.

He narrowed his eyes.

The blond turned slightly, eyes bright, and waved.

Waved.

Like it was casual. Like they were neighbours or something.

“Hi again!” he called cheerfully, completely ignoring personal space rules by walking right over to him. “Funny seeing you here. You grocery shop too? Love that.”

Jungkook stared. “...You followed me.”

Berries blinked. “What?”

“You were outside. You saw me leave.”

“Leave what?”

“My house.”

The Omega tilted his head like a confused puppy. “You think I waited by the window to follow you to the grocery store, or something?”

Jungkook didn’t answer. Which was basically a yes.

The blond blinked. Then laughed. Loudly. Like full belly laugh, head tilted back, curls bouncing kind of laugh.

“Oh my god,” he said, still chuckling. “That’s adorable. No offence. But no. I just needed yoghurt.”

Jungkook looked into his basket. It was, in fact, half yoghurt.

“I have no idea who you are, man,” Berries added, still grinning. “But I’m starting to think you’re following me. ”

Jungkook’s brain blue-screened.

What.

The Omega gave him a little salute and kept walking toward the rice aisle, completely unbothered, while Jungkook stood frozen next to the blueberries, wondering if this was how heat strokes started.

When he came back to his senses, he started walking.

Jungkook wasn’t following him.

He wasn’t.

He was just walking… in the same direction. With similar timing. Through the same aisles. Because he needed things. Practical things. Like pasta.

And okay, maybe he didn’t need to go down the snack aisle after already grabbing protein bars. And maybe he didn’t even like rice crackers. But the Omega was there. And Bam would eat anything, so technically this was just... pet care.

He peeked around the corner of the aisle.

There he was again.

Loose cardigan slipping off one shoulder. Messy curls bouncing with each step. And that same scent trailing behind him, berries and comfort and sunshine, and Jungkook was going to lose his entire mind.

Berries stopped in front of the instant rice display, comparing brands like it was a life-or-death decision. Then he pulled out his phone.

Jungkook didn’t mean to listen. It wasn’t his fault the store was quiet, and his hearing was Alpha-level tuned.

“Yeah,” the Omega said, laughing softly. “No, I haven’t unpacked anything. Like… I made toast with a fork this morning.”

Pause. He smiled.

“Mhm. The guy with the dog? Yeah, I saw him again. At the store. No, I didn’t ask his name. That’s weird. What would I even say? ‘Hi, are you always this emotionally unavailable, or is it just the lighting in your foyer?’”

Jungkook flinched.

He was emotionally available. He just didn’t like strangers. Or people. Or conversation. But like, theoretically, he could be available. If he wanted.

Which he didn’t.

…Right?

“I dunno,” Berries continued on the phone, “he seems intense. But his dog’s a total flirt. Like, instant belly rubs. We had a moment.”

He laughed again. It was warm. Easy. Jungkook hated how much he wanted to hear more of it.

“Anyway, I’m getting yoghurt and going home to cry into my unpacked boxes,” Berries said. “Text me when your shift ends. Love you.”

He ended the call, slid the phone into his cardigan pocket, and turned to grab a bag of rice.

Jungkook ducked back around the corner like a man caught shoplifting.

Okay. So maybe he was following him a little.

But it was fine.

He was just doing recon.

He peeked again and saw the Omega heading toward the checkout.

Which was good.

Great.

Perfect.

He could leave first and pretend they hadn’t just circled each other in the cereal aisle like two wolves sniffing over the last box of granola.

Totally normal.

Totally fine.

He turned around, face hot, and walked straight into a tower of canned peaches.

He didn’t think it would be loud.

The peach cans hit the floor like a tiny apocalypse. T hunk thunk THUNK. B ouncing off each other in waves as the pyramid collapsed with dramatic, echoing chaos.

Jungkook froze mid-step.

A woman gasped. A cashier looked up. Someone in aisle 3 muttered, “That’s gonna be on TikTok.”

He just stood there for a second, caught between flight, death, and whatever third option involved disintegrating into the floor.

And of course, of course , when he finally turned his head, there was Berries. One aisle over. Basket in hand. Eyebrows raised.

“Oh no,” the Omega said, walking over casually. “Did you lose a fight with fruit?”

Jungkook stared at him.

Berries’ face was very serious , but his eyes were sparkling. Bastard.

“I’m fine,” Jungkook muttered, crouching quickly to stack the cans again. “It’s not—”

“Should I get you ice?” the Omega added, crouching too, gently handing him a dented can. “For your ego, I mean.”

Jungkook blinked. “That’s not funny.”

“I mean… kinda?” he said, grinning as he stood back up. “It’s a little funny. You walked into a stationary object.”

“I wasn’t looking,” Jungkook grumbled.

“At the stack of fruit or in general?”

Jungkook didn’t answer. Just stood, clutching the can like it had wronged him personally.

The Omega didn’t push. He just shifted his weight, balancing his basket. “Well, it was nice seeing you again. Not that you look thrilled.”

“I’m just surprised,” Jungkook muttered.

The blond tilted his head. “That I exist outside of a single interaction?”

Jungkook almost choked. “No. I mean. Yes. I mean—I didn’t expect to see you. Again.”

“Me neither,” the Omega said with a shrug. “We keep running into each other. It’s cute. Almost makes me believe in fate.”

Jungkook felt his heart stutter, unhelpfully.

Then Berries turned toward the checkout like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t just thrown fate into the conversation like a grenade.

Jungkook watched him go, still clutching his can of peaches like an idiot.

Outside, the parking lot was blissfully empty. Jungkook loaded his groceries into the back of his car and slid behind the wheel, trying to breathe through the wave of secondhand embarrassment crashing over him.

He could feel his ears burning under his hoodie.

Then came the knock.

He jumped.

Berries stood at his passenger-side window, holding a paper bag. He gestured with it like a peace offering.

Jungkook reluctantly rolled the window down.

The blond leaned in slightly. “You forgot your peaches.”

Jungkook blinked. “What?”

“I saw the cashier set them aside. Figured you’d be too emotionally scarred to go back.”

“…I wasn’t.”

“Sure,” Berries said with a cheeky smile, placing the bag on the seat. “Anyway, you’re welcome.”

He stepped back, curls bouncing in the sunlight, and gave a small wave. “See you around, mystery Alpha.”

And just like that, he walked away.

Again.

Leaving Jungkook with a bag of canned peaches, a bruised ego, and zero idea what the hell was happening anymore.

🍓

By the time Jungkook got home, he was convinced he had some kind of Omega-induced fever. Or a minor concussion. Or both.

The peaches sitting in the passenger seat judged him.

Bam greeted him at the door like nothing had happened, tail wagging, tongue out, pure-hearted traitor to his bloodline. Jungkook dropped the grocery bags on the counter and stared blankly at the can of peaches he was still holding.

He didn’t even like peaches.

The worst part? They smelled faintly like berries now. Probably just because his brain was melting. Or because the Omega had brushed against him at checkout. Or because fate hated him specifically.

He set the can down like it might explode.

And then the doorbell rang

Jungkook groaned into his hoodie. “No.”

Bam barked once and padded toward the door like he knew exactly who it was.

Jungkook dragged himself out of the kitchen and checked the camera feed. Yoongi. Of course. One of maybe three people who had both the gate code and the audacity.

He buzzed him in.

A few minutes later, the door swung open without knocking. “You should fix your security,” Yoongi said by way of greeting.

“ You set up the security,” Jungkook replied.

“It’s not my problem anymore.”

He followed Yoongi into the kitchen, slumping back into a chair while Bam greeted him like royalty.

Yoongi raised a brow. “You look like someone beat you up with fruit.”

Jungkook grunted and gestured vaguely toward the dented can of peaches on the counter.

Before Yoongi could ask further, he held up a hand. “Don’t.”

Yoongi just smirked. “Fine. I won’t. But I’m hungry.”

“There’s leftover kimchi fried rice.”

Yoongi opened the fridge. “You okay, though?”

Jungkook stared at the counter. “I think I met an Omega today.”

Yoongi paused. “Oh?”

Jungkook nodded. “He... smells like berries.”

A beat.

“I see,” Yoongi said, like that explained everything.

And then, just as Jungkook thought the conversation might slip into blissful silence, Yoongi’s phone buzzed.

“Huh,” he muttered. “Weird. Some guy just waved at me through the gate.”

Jungkook frowned. “Who?”

“Short. Cute. Blond. Wearing a cardigan like it’s 1997. Said he was here to see someone named Taehyung. I let him in.”

Jungkook sat up. “That’s him. ”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “The Omega?”

“No, his friend,” Jungkook said. “ The Omega is Taehyung.”

Yoongi nodded slowly, already reaching for the door. “I’ll go check.”

🍓

“You’re doomed,” Yoongi said, walking in.

“Yeah,” Jungkook replied around a mouthful of strawberry. “I know.”

🍓

“I wasn’t staring at him,” Jungkook said, after a while.

Yoongi looked up from his bowl of rice. “No one said you were.”

“I just noticed he was there. That’s all.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “And then?”

Jungkook frowned. “Then he asked for directions.”

“To your heart?”

“No,” Jungkook snapped. “To his house. He just moved in.”

Yoongi nodded slowly. “And this… emotionally devastating event led to the fruit incident?”

Jungkook scowled. “It was unrelated.”

“So the Omega had nothing to do with you bulldozing a pyramid of peaches?”

Jungkook stared into his water bottle. “I was distracted.”

Yoongi put his chopsticks down. “And by distracted, you mean...”

“He asked if he could touch.”

Yoongi blinked. “...You?”

“I thought so.”

Yoongi closed his eyes for a long, judgmental second. “Jungkook.”

“I panicked! He meant the dog!”

Yoongi was silent for a beat. “And did you tell him that?”

“No, I told him he could pet. Like an idiot.”

Yoongi breathed in through his nose. “And this is the person your dog rolled over for?”

“He didn’t even hesitate,” Jungkook muttered bitterly. “He just flopped like a traitor.”

“Sounds like he has good taste.”

“ Whose side are you on?”

Yoongi shrugged. “The one who doesn’t make my ears bleed with secondhand embarrassment.”

Jungkook glared. “You didn’t see him. He was—he was just— kneeling there. Talking to Bam in that weird Omega baby voice. Like ‘Who’s the prettiest boy?’ and Bam just melted. ”

“And you?”

“I stood there like a lamppost.”

“Classic.”

“He smells like berries,” Jungkook muttered.

Yoongi blinked. "So you've said."

“I mean—not like, strong. Just… naturally. Subtly. The kind that lingers.”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Yoongi picked up his food again. “You’re gonna be insufferable about this, aren’t you?”

“I’m literally fine.”

Yoongi gave him a look that could only be described as: bitch, please.

Jungkook stood. “I’m going to bed.”

“You’re going to stare at the ceiling and overanalyse a three-minute interaction.”

“I’M GOING TO BED.”

Yoongi could see himself out.

🍓

The house was quiet.

Too quiet.

Jungkook lay in bed, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling like it owed him answers. Bam was already snoring next to him, curled up like a cinnamon roll with legs. The only light came from the glow of Jungkook’s phone as it sat on his chest, screen dark.

He hadn’t been able to sleep.

It had been hours .

Every time he closed his eyes, his brain replayed the scene in 4K:

“Okay to touch?”

“Oh, he bites?”

“See you around, mystery Alpha.”

Jungkook dragged a hand over his face.

He grabbed his phone and opened Safari.

Typed:

can dogs imprint on strangers 

Deleted. 

Typed:

dog chooses omega over owner 

Deleted again. 

Typed:

what does it mean if you smell berries for the rest of the day

He sighed and dropped the phone back on his chest.

Bam shifted slightly, letting out a blissful sigh.

Jungkook turned his head to look at him. “You’re not even sorry.”

Bam snored in response.

He picked up the phone again. Opened Instagram. Scrolled past a fan edit of himself at a recent event. Black hair, sunglasses, sharp jawline, 2 million likes.

Taehyung hadn’t even recognised him.

Didn’t blink. Didn’t ask his name. Didn’t pull out a phone.

Just smiled. Talked to his dog. Left.

Jungkook turned his phone off and tossed it to the side.

The faint scent of berries was still in his mind. Stupidly soft. Like jam and sunshine. It was haunting him.

What if this guy kept showing up? What if Bam tried to move in with him? Was that even legal?

Jungkook groaned and flopped onto his stomach.

“I’m not spiralling,” he mumbled into the pillow.

But even he didn’t believe it.

🍓

The morning air was nice.

Too nice.

Suspiciously nice.

Jungkook stepped outside in a hoodie two sizes too big and joggers that had seen better days, hoping the sleepy weather would do something to cure the lingering headache called Taehyung.

It didn’t.

Bam was already tugging at the leash, tail wagging like he had a mission. Jungkook narrowed his eyes.

“You better not be planning anything,” he muttered, locking the gate behind them.

Bam didn’t answer, obviously, but there was a little bounce in his step. A joy that Jungkook didn’t trust at all. Because Bam had that look in his eyes. The one he got when there were squirrels nearby or when Jungkook accidentally opened the fridge too close to dinnertime.

They made it to the edge of the block. Quiet. Peaceful.

Then he saw it.

A flash of blond curls. A rainbow-lettered sweatshirt. A glass of iced coffee glinting in the morning light like some kind of caffeinated beacon of doom.

Jungkook stopped walking.

Taehyung was sitting on the porch steps of 17B like a lifestyle influencer doing a soft launch of his new personality. Hair messy, legs bare, sleeves hanging off his hands. He looked like a Sunday morning and a romantic tragedy all at once.

Jungkook immediately considered turning around.

But it was too late. Bam saw him.

Jungkook felt the leash jolt as Bam lunged forward with purpose.

“Don’t you fucking dare—”

But Bam was already halfway up the driveway, tail wagging like he was greeting a war hero.

“Bam,” Jungkook hissed. “Get back here.”

The dog ignored him. Completely. Like loyalty was optional.

“Oh hey!” Taehyung’s voice called out, cheerful and bright despite the hour. “You again!”

Jungkook contemplated death as a lifestyle choice.

Taehyung set down his iced coffee and leaned forward to pet Bam, who promptly flopped onto the porch like he lived there now.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Taehyung said, scratching behind Bam’s ears. “You’re gonna make me think you’re obsessed with me.”

Jungkook wanted the earth to open and swallow him whole.

“I live here,” he said stiffly, arms crossed like a defensive wall.

Taehyung grinned. “Yeah, yeah. That’s what they all say.”

Jungkook blinked. “What does that even mean?”

“I dunno. I just felt like saying it.”

Jungkook didn’t know what to do with that information. He didn’t know what to do with any of this.

Taehyung kept petting Bam like it was his full-time job. “You sure this is your dog?”

“He’s just... being dramatic.”

“He practically swan-dived into my lap.”

“He’s easily manipulated, ” Jungkook said through gritted teeth. “He’s weak.”

“Feels like projection.”

Jungkook glared.

Taehyung smiled.

It wasn’t fair. It really wasn’t. No one should be allowed to look that good with bed hair and bare legs and a crewneck that said “World’s Okayest Bitch.” No one should be that cheerful before 10 a.m. No one should smell like berries and happiness and treat Jungkook like he was the neighbourhood cryptid.

Taehyung glanced up at him again. “You wanna sit?”

Jungkook blinked. “What?”

“The steps are free. You keep hovering like you’re waiting for me to sign a contract.”

“I’m walking my dog.”

“Bam has walked himself into retirement.”

Jungkook looked down. Bam was flat on his back, tongue lolling, paws twitching happily under Taehyung’s hands.

“You’re embarrassing me,” he muttered.

Bam panted louder.

Taehyung took a sip of his coffee, leaned back slightly, and raised an eyebrow. “Iced?”

Jungkook stared. “What?”

“Iced coffee,” he said, holding up the glass. “Judging by your expression, I assume you think I’m morally bankrupt.”

“I don’t care.”

“You have very expressive eyebrows for someone who doesn’t care.”

“I’m not—” Jungkook stopped. Breathed. “I just didn’t expect to see you again.”

“Aw,” Taehyung said, mockingly touched. “You missed me?”

Jungkook refused to dignify that with an answer.

There was a long pause while Bam thumped his tail against the porch, perfectly content with his life choices.

Taehyung yawned, then smiled at Jungkook again, so soft and sunny it should’ve been illegal. “You’re a weird guy, mystery Alpha.”

Jungkook frowned. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

“Well,” Taehyung said, standing up and brushing off his hands, “you haven’t told me your name. But I’ve seen your dog. So I figure I’ve got a 50% introduction.”

“I never asked your name.”

Taehyung gasped, mock-offended. “You didn’t? Oh no. Do you want it now, or should we keep the slow-burn mystery alive?”

Jungkook opened his mouth. Closed it.

Taehyung took a sip of his coffee again like he was doing it on purpose. “See you around, neighbour.”

And just like that, he turned and disappeared into the house.

Bam whined.

“You’re not moving in with him,” Jungkook muttered, tugging at the leash. “Get up.”

Bam didn’t move.

“Seriously.”

Another whine.

Jungkook looked at the closed door. Then at his dog. Then back at the door.

“You traitorous little bastard.”

Eventually, Bam stood up with a dramatic huff and followed, but not without glancing back at the house like he was saying goodbye to his soulmate.

Jungkook dragged him back down the street, hoodie pulled low, sunglasses still on despite the shade.

He was not okay.

Not even a little.

🍓

Back home, Jungkook closed the door behind him, dropped Bam’s leash, and leaned his forehead against the wall.

“I am being psychologically tormented by a man who drinks iced coffee in 15°C weather,” he muttered.

Bam yawned.

Jungkook ignored him. Walked straight to the kitchen. Opened the fridge. Stared into it for a solid 30 seconds without taking anything out.

Then he grabbed his phone.

New note.

Title: Bam Custody Agreement (Draft)

1. Bam is mine.

2. I raised him.

3. I pay for his food, medical bills, and ridiculous squirrel plushies.

4. That Omega is not his new dad.

5. Even if he has soft hands.

6. And a cute laugh.

7. And smells like fresh berries and serotonin.

8. This is irrelevant.

9. I’m fine.

10. Shut up.

He stared at the screen for a second. Then added:

11. Block this note from Yoongi

From the living room, Bam sneezed.

Jungkook sighed.

He was going to have to walk past that house again tomorrow, wasn’t he?

🍓

Later that day, Jungkook found himself standing in the living room, staring out the window.

Not at anything in particular. Just… in the general direction of Taehyung’s house.

Bam was already there, chin resting dramatically on the windowsill, ears perked, tail giving the occasional hopeful flick. Every few minutes, his nose twitched.

Jungkook leaned on the frame next to him, arms crossed. “We’re not watching him.”

Bam didn’t move.

“We’re just enjoying the view. Of the street. Like normal people.”

Still nothing.

“I’m not spiralling,” Jungkook added for good measure.

That was when the front door of 17B opened.

Jungkook didn’t flinch. He didn’t even react. He just calmly, silently observed as Taehyung stepped outside in a pair of cloud-printed pyjama pants and an oversized T-shirt that said “I Nap With Vengeance.”

Barefoot.

Holding two trash bags in one hand and a glass of water in the other like hydration and sanitation ware one seamless aesthetic.

Bam let out a tiny whine.

Jungkook frowned. “He’s just taking the trash out.”

Taehyung paused by the curb, pushing his hair back with one hand and squinting at the sky like he was considering arguing with the sun.

“Not hot,” Jungkook muttered. “That’s not hot. That’s… casual. That’s domestic. That’s—stop wagging your tail.”

Bam’s tail thumped harder.

Taehyung turned around and disappeared inside.

Jungkook stared at the door for a beat too long.

Then glanced at Bam. “You need therapy.”

Bam didn’t disagree.

🍓

The neighbourhood had one of those shared mailbox setups. Jungkook hated it. Nothing said “privacy” like standing next to someone's grandma while pretending you didn’t just get five PR packages full of protein powder.

He almost didn’t go. He almost waited a full 24 hours, but then Yoongi texted him twice about a USB he mailed over.

“Just go get it, you weirdo”

And now here he was. Hoodie on. Head down.

Approaching the mailboxes.

Only to freeze halfway there.

Taehyung was already standing in front of the metal boxes. Barefoot. Again. In different pyjama pants this time (with frogs on them). And a worn tank top that said “Let Me Sleep Or I’ll Cry.”

He was holding a cactus.

A tiny cactus. In a ceramic pot shaped like a cat.

Jungkook blinked like his brain had to reboot.

Taehyung looked up. Bright smile. Immediate.

“Well, well,” he said. “Look who’s here. ”

Jungkook opened his mouth. No sound came out.

Taehyung turned back to his mailbox. “What a cute coincidence. Unless you tracked my mail schedule. Should I be flattered or filing a report?”

“I just needed a package,” Jungkook muttered.

Taehyung glanced sideways at him. “Was it a cactus?”

Jungkook stared. “No?”

“Shame,” Taehyung said, adjusting the pot in his hands. “This one’s name is Murder Baby.”

Jungkook had no response to that.

Taehyung pulled a few envelopes out, scanned them, then tilted his head. “Still not gonna tell me your name?”

“You never told me yours.”

A lie. Sort of. He learned it from Yoongi.

“I’m Kim Taehyung.”

Jungkook blinked. “…Jungkook.”

Taehyung smiled. “Mystery solved.”

Jungkook didn’t smile back. He didn’t not smile, but he was trying very hard to keep his expression neutral.

Taehyung looked down at Bam, who had wandered over and was now sitting on Taehyung’s foot.

“Your dog is in love with me,” Taehyung said simply.

“I know.”

“I’m just letting you know, in case he shows up at my door again, I’m keeping him.”

“You can’t.”

“He’ll have a backyard. Enrichment. Belly rubs on demand.”

Jungkook stared at him. “That’s emotional manipulation.”

Taehyung shrugged. “Love wins.”

And just like that, he turned and started walking back toward his house, cactus cradled against his chest, Bam trotting after him like a pilgrim returning to church.

Jungkook closed his mailbox. Slowly.

Then called, “Bam.”

Bam didn’t stop.

“Bam.”

A pause.

Then Bam turned. Just once. Looked at Jungkook like, are you sure?

“Yes, I’m sure.”

With a sigh only a dog could produce, Bam returned to Jungkook’s side.

Jungkook didn’t speak the whole walk back. Just stared straight ahead, jaw tense.

Next time, he was getting a fucking cat.

🍓

It was supposed to be a peaceful evening.

Jungkook was sitting on the couch, pretending to scroll through his phone, pretending not to glance at the clock every five minutes, pretending not to notice that nothing on his screen was interesting.

Bam was asleep at his feet, twitching every so often like he was dreaming about ear scratches and betrayal.

The TV was on. Volume low. Some show he wasn’t watching.

He was fine.

Totally, completely fine.

And then he heard it.

Muffled laughter.

Faint. But close. Familiar.

Jungkook froze.

There was a window cracked open near the side of the house. He hadn’t even noticed. But now, now he could hear someone talking. Playful, a little breathless. And unmistakably Taehyung.

He stood before he could stop himself. Just to… close the window. That’s all.

He wasn’t trying to listen. That would be creepy. This was just about temperature regulation and responsible homeownership.

He stepped closer.

Taehyung’s voice floated over from the side yard, where the properties shared a low fence.

“Yeah, no, I just unpacked the plates,” Taehyung was saying to someone, tone light and amused. “I’ve been eating straight from the rice cooker like a feral beast.”

A pause. Then a laugh.

“No, you didn’t help. You sat on video call and judged me. That’s not the same as lifting boxes.”

Another pause.

“Yeah, the neighbourhood’s cute. Very… quiet. Except for the guy next door.”

Jungkook’s stomach did something unpleasant.

He edged toward the window. Just to… check for bugs. Or dangerous creatures. Totally not eavesdropping.

Taehyung kept talking, completely unaware.

“He’s kind of weird,” he said, and Jungkook nearly short-circuited on the spot.

“Like, pretty? In a rich, haunted way. But also very quiet. He talks like he’s buffering.”

Jungkook stared at the wall in front of him like it had betrayed him personally.

“He has this huge dog, the sweetest thing ever. Rolled over like a pancake the second I looked at him.”

That’s not how pancakes work, Jungkook thought irrationally.

“And the guy just stood there. Didn’t say much. Looked at me like I owed him money or something.”

Jungkook blinked. “I don’t do that,” he muttered.

Bam snored in agreement or defiance. It was hard to tell.

Taehyung kept going, voice softer now.

“I don’t think he recognised me, though.”

Jungkook frowned.

“…From the grocery store. Same guy. He just appeared again like fate or a Google-targeted ad. This time, he looked mildly less terrified.”

Jungkook stepped away from the window.

He needed to go upstairs.

He needed to stop listening before Taehyung said something else that would live in his head rent-free until 2031.

But he couldn’t help it. He lingered a second longer.

“Yeah, I did ask his name,” Taehyung said with a laugh. “But he told me like I was going to set him on a monthly magazine list about… I don’t know, horses or something.”

Jungkook closed the window.

Firmly.

Then stood there for a second, heart beating a little too fast, brain looping the phrase rich, haunted way like it was a personal insult and a compliment at the same time.

He turned around and walked upstairs like a man on a mission.

“I’m not listening,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m literally not listening. This is just thin walls. Normal neighbourhood noise. I am not invested.”

And yet.

He didn’t turn on music. Didn’t scroll his phone.

Just lay down in the dark, staring at the ceiling again, and whispered,

“ Buffering? Really?”

The worst part?

He couldn’t stop thinking about the cactus.

Not Taehyung. Not the pyjamas. Not the iced coffee or the berry scent or the fact that his dog had emotionally defected to another household.

No.

It was the goddamn cactus.

“Murder Baby,” Jungkook muttered, sitting at his desk, staring at the wall like it had answers.

He’d named it.

Taehyung had given it a name.

Who does that?

And why was it cute?

He opened Google.

do cactus plants remember you

Scrolled.

are succulents emotionally manipulative

Scrolled further.

what if an Omega names a cactus and it ruins your life

Closed the tab.

Sat back.

Sighed.

“This is getting out of hand,” he said to no one.

From the other side of the room, Bam let out a soft groan and rolled onto his back, legs in the air like the world had defeated him.

“Don’t you dare dream about him,” Jungkook muttered. “You don’t even know that cactus.”

🍓

He grabbed his phone off the desk. Opened the messages app.

Yoongi’s name stared back at him like a warning sign.

He hesitated.

Then typed:

Jungkook [9:54 PM]

do u think dogs can cheat emotionally

Sent.

Immediate regret.

Three dots appeared.

Then disappeared.

Then appeared again.

Then—

yoongi hyung [9:57 PM]

go to sleep

Jungkook sighed.

“Bam,” he whispered, looking down at his dog’s upside-down sleeping form. “If you leave me for an Omega with houseplants, I will literally sue.”

Bam snored louder.

Chapter Text

“You ever been called... buffering?”

Yoongi didn’t look up from his laptop. “You’re gonna need to give me more context.”

Jungkook spun slowly in the studio chair, arms crossed, hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands like like he was trying to disappear into them. “Not, like, literally. Not ‘your internet is slow’ buffering. Just... me. As a person. Someone said I talk like I’m buffering.”

Yoongi clicked something. “Mm.”

“Like, what does that even mean?” Jungkook asked, turning his head toward the ceiling tiles like they’d have answers. “Do I pause weird? Do I glitch? Do I give off... dial-up energy?”

“Mmhm.”

“And it’s not even that I care, but like—what the fuck kind of insult is that?”

Yoongi finally looked at him. “You do pause before you talk sometimes.”

Jungkook stared.

“It’s not buffering,” Yoongi added helpfully. “It’s more... thinking. Loudly. While silent.”

“That’s worse,” Jungkook muttered, now fully curled into himself in the chair like a judgmental cinnamon roll.

Yoongi went back to his screen. “Who said it?”

“No one.”

Yoongi didn’t react.

“Someone.”

Still nothing.

“The neighbour.”

Yoongi turned back to his screen. “Berry boy?”

Jungkook winced. “Don’t call him that.”

“You called him that.”

“That was private.”

“You texted me 'Berry Boy has my dog' at 1:14 AM"

“That’s not legally admissible.”

A beat.

Yoongi opened the DAW. “Do you wanna work today or do you wanna emotionally unravel over a man who owns a cactus named Murder Baby?”

Jungkook sank lower in his chair. “You weren’t there. He said it so casually. Like buffering was just... a thing I do.”

“Maybe it is.”

“Yoongi-hyung.”

Yoongi sighed. “Do you want me to fight him?”

Jungkook hesitated. “...Kind of?”

Yoongi nodded like that was a totally normal request. “Get in the booth.”

Jungkook didn’t move.

Yoongi turned to look at him. “You’re gonna let one hot Omega with a baby voice and emotionally manipulative houseplants ruin your vocal schedule?”

“Don’t call him hot.”

“You called him hot.”

“Only internally!”

Yoongi didn’t answer. Just gestured toward the vocal booth with all the enthusiasm of a tired parent waving their kid into time-out.

Jungkook groaned and finally stood up. “Shut up.”

As he walked into the booth, he heard Yoongi mutter, “Can’t believe you lost your dog and your dignity in one week.”

Inside the booth, the lights were low and the air smelled like faint coffee and dust and…failure. Jungkook adjusted the headphones and stood there staring at the mic, the instrumental track already humming faintly in his ears.

He was supposed to be recording a dreamy midtempo love song.

Soft falsetto. Gentle build. Something wistful.

Problem was, the lyrics were suddenly hitting a little too close to home:

"Though I’m standing still, beneath the frozen sunset, 

I’ll take one step at a time toward you–”

And all he could think about was a pair of bare feet on a porch, a stupid cactus, and a smile that made him feel like a glitching NPC.

He tried the first line. Voice cracked.

He tried again. Missed the timing.

He closed his eyes and took a breath.

And of course, his brain whispered, “Hi, are you always this emotionally unavailable, or is it just the lighting in your foyer?”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered into the mic.

Yoongi’s voice crackled in through the headphones. “You okay in there?”

“Do I look okay?”

“I can’t see you. You’re in a soundproof box.”

Jungkook groaned.

Yoongi let a beat pass. “You know, for someone who insists he’s not interested, you’re giving strong ‘17-year-old with a crush’ energy.”

“I hate it here.”

Yoongi sipped something. “Just sing the damn song, glitchboy.”

Jungkook closed his eyes, muttered something deeply unholy under his breath, and tried again.

🍓

By the time Jungkook left the studio, the sun had dipped behind the hills, and the streets were bathed in the kind of golden-pink light that made people fall in love in movies.

He was not in love.

He was tired. Hungry. Emotionally frayed. And still mildly offended by how right Yoongi had been.

He turned the corner toward his house, head down, hoodie up, earbuds in.

And then he stopped.

Because Taehyung was there.

Standing outside again. On the sidewalk. In front of his house. Just… existing.

This time, he was wearing ripped grey sweatpants and a faded blue shirt that said “Emotionally Unavailable but Still Hot” across the chest.

He was drinking something out of a mason jar with a metal straw. Probably something homemade and suspicious, like blueberry ginger oat milk.

Bam, who had been trotting ahead on his leash, immediately picked up speed.

“Bam,” Jungkook hissed.

Too late.

Bam lunged forward like he’d just seen his actual father return from war.

Taehyung looked up. Brightened instantly. “Well, well, well.”

Jungkook tried to pull Bam back with a casual yank. Failed miserably.

“I swear he has selective memory,” he muttered under his breath.

Taehyung crouched down, arms open like a Disney princess summoning woodland creatures. “My favourite boy!”

Bam full-body wagged and threw himself against Taehyung’s chest like a traitor.

Jungkook considered walking into oncoming traffic.

“You again,” Taehyung grinned up at him, scratching behind Bam’s ears. “You know, people are going to start thinking we planned this.”

“We didn’t,” Jungkook said quickly. Too quickly. “I was just getting back.”

“From?”

Jungkook blinked. “Work.”

Taehyung tilted his head. “Late shift?”

“Music studio.”

“Ohhh,” Taehyung said, like that explained something. “So you are cool.”

Jungkook’s brain shut down for two seconds.

“Debatable,” he finally managed.

Taehyung stood up slowly, the ends of his curls brushing his face. He sipped his mystery beverage, watching Jungkook like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

Jungkook shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket, just for something to do.

“I was about to try moving that stupid shelf inside,” Taehyung said, gesturing vaguely toward his front door. “But it turns out I’m one noodle-armed bitch.”

Jungkook nodded. “That tracks.”

Taehyung raised an eyebrow.

Shit. “I mean—I didn’t mean—I wasn’t saying you’re—like—I just meant—”

Taehyung laughed. “You buffering again?”

Jungkook wanted to melt directly into the pavement. He hated how good Taehyung’s laugh sounded. Hated even more that he was smiling now, like he knew it .

“Anyway,” Taehyung continued, like he wasn’t systematically dismantling Jungkook’s emotional defences, “I was gonna call my friend to help, but he’s the kind of guy who ‘forgets’ to answer calls after six PM., so…”

Jungkook nodded again, eyes glued to a crack in the pavement. Just act normal. Say something chill. Do not make it weird.

“That’s rough,” he offered.

That’s rough?  

Taehyung didn’t comment. Just tilted his head toward the house.

“Would you mind?” 

Jungkook looked up.

“Huh?”

Taehyung gestured with his mason jar. “Just for a second? Helping me inside?”

Jungkook blinked. “Me?”

“No, your dog,” Taehyung added dryly.

Bam barked like he’d be honoured.

Jungkook opened his mouth, then closed it. “I…”

Taehyung stepped back toward his porch. “You don’t have to. I mean, you’re probably tired from—studio-ing or whatever.”

Jungkook’s pulse kicked up. Why was he hesitating? This was normal. Helping a neighbour move something was normal. This didn’t mean anything. 

Jungkook’s mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

Taehyung turned slightly, giving a little shrug like he wasn’t affected either way. “It’s fine. I’ll just drag it and injure myself. Adds to the tragic backstory.”

Jungkook exhaled. “Wait.”

Taehyung looked back.

“I’ll help.”

Taehyung’s grin was slow and satisfied, like he knew . “Knew you were a good boy.”

Jungkook twitched.

His entire nervous system staged a brief shutdown. Bam wagged his tail like this was the happiest day of his life.

Jungkook followed him up the porch, trying not to look directly at Taehyung’s bare skin, or the curve of his smile, or the fact that he was humming something under his breath.

This was fine.

He was fine.

It was just a shelf.

And maybe, if he played this right, he’d be in and out in five minutes and never have to see that cactus again.

🍓

The second Jungkook stepped inside, he knew he’d made a mistake.

Not a small one. Not like ordering the wrong size hoodie or putting salt in his coffee instead of sugar.

This was a life-altering , I should’ve turned around and run kind of mistake.

The air smelled like berries and fabric softener and something warmer, softer, dangerous. Like the moment before a first kiss or the exact second someone pressed a hand against your chest and smiled.

The lights were low. the curtains open just enough to let in the late-golden hue of dusk, and the entire place looked like it belonged in a Pinterest board titled “Sexy Omegas With Taste and Plants”. It was warm. Soft. A golden hue spilling over uneven stacks of books and old camera film canisters, and string lights still in their packaging. The whole space looked like it had been curated for a photo shoot, but in that accidentally gorgeous way that people like Jungkook paid stylists to replicate. 

And Taehyung was at the centre of it, sipping pink mystery juice and humming.

Jungkook stood stiffly in the entryway like a vampire waiting to be invited in, like a guest star on his own breakdown, hands shoved in his hoodie, heart pounding way too loud in his ears.

He wasn’t even sure what hit him harder, Taehyung’s scent or the way his shirt slipped off one shoulder with such unapologetic chaos. It wasn’t even intentional. That was the worst part. Jungkook had filmed three commercials trying to look that effortless and hadn’t come close. 

“Come on in,” Taehyung called over his shoulder, completely unaware of the mental gymnastics Jungkook was performing just to stay upright. “Ignore the mess.”

There wasn’t a mess. Not really. There were boxes, sure. But also candles. Cushions. Plants that were somehow thriving. A bulletin board with polaroids. A stack of vinyls next to a Bluetooth speaker, currently playing a jazzy version of an R&B track Jungkook couldn’t name because his brain was not functioning.

Bam walked past him like the place was already home.

Jungkook hesitated. This is fine. You’re just helping. You’re here to move a shelf. You’re not here to flirt. You’re not here to sniff the air like a freak. That’s it. Nothing weird. Nothing—

Taehyung’s laugh floated back from the living room.

He stepped forward.

Big mistake.

He passed the fireplace and saw the painting.

It was abstract. All curves and swirls and bold splashes of deep red and black.

It looked like—

“Oh,” Taehyung said casually, glancing back. “That one’s called Sex But Make It Spiritual. ”

Jungkook immediately looked away. “I’m sorry—what?”

“I didn’t name it,” Taehyung grinned. “But it fits, doesn’t it?”

Jungkook looked away so fast he gave himself whiplash and stared at a box labelled “WINTER STUFF” just to not make eye contact.

“Where’s the shelf?”

“Right there,” Taehyung said, pointing to a dark wood monolith crammed into the corner.

The shelf was tall, wooden, ugly as sin, and positioned in the most inconvenient corner imaginable. Half-filled with books and tiny trinkets already. Sitting proudly on the top shelf: Murder Baby, his nemesis.

The cactus watched him.

The cactus.

The cactus had moved.

Jungkook was sure it had been in the kitchen window yesterday. Or maybe he imagined that? Or maybe the cactus could teleport. That would explain a lot.

He stepped closer.

“You don’t have to lift it all the way,” Taehyung was saying, “just shift it so I can get this rug under it.”

There was a patterned rug, red and gold, antique-looking, rolled and ready behind them.

Taehyung clutched it with one hand and the smoothie with the other.

“I was gonna try doing it myself,” Taehyung said, coming up beside him, “but then I remembered I have the upper body strength of a Victorian orphan. And I didn’t wanna, like, die or throw out my back. And it looked like an Alpha kind of problem.”

“You have no furniture sliders?”

Taehyung blinked. “Do I look like someone who owns those?”

“…No.”

“I’m more of a ‘use your feet and hope for the best’ kind of person.”

“Clearly.”

Jungkook raised a brow. “Also, Alpha kind of problem?”

“You know,” Taehyung said airily, taking a sip of his drink, “lifting. Grunting. Masculine grunting noises.”

Jungkook didn’t grunt.

He could’ve , if he wanted to.

“I can lift things without grunting.”

“Prove it.”

Jungkook rolled his shoulders back and approached the shelf.

Okay. Focus. Shelf. Lifting. Easy. Nothing weird here.

Jungkook took a breath and squared up. He was not going to grunt.

Then Taehyung got too close.

Just slightly. Just enough to get a grip under the opposite edge.

And in that slight shuffle backwards—

He backed right into Jungkook.

Solid. Warm. All lines and scent and shoulder blades.

Jungkook stopped breathing.

Frozen.

Time. Stopped.

It wasn’t even that long. A second, maybe two.

But Taehyung leaned into it like it meant nothing , like Jungkook wasn’t standing there with his soul halfway out of his body, silently begging any higher power to just end him.

Jungkook’s brain crashed like a Windows XP system. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t do anything but exist behind him.

Taehyung didn’t move away.

He just said, low and casual, “Am I in your way?”

Jungkook made a noise that might’ve been words.

Taehyung half-turned. Jungkook caught the glint in his eye, and it did things to him. His hands twitched.

“I can step left,” Taehyung offered. “Unless you wanna be my human backrest.”

Jungkook backed up so fast he nearly tripped over Bam, who had stretched out behind him like he was filming a sitcom.

“Cool,” Taehyung said brightly, like he hadn’t just broken Jungkook’s soul into seventeen pieces. “Let’s just shift it that way.”

They managed to move the shelf, barely. Jungkook did most of it, breathing heavily now, hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair falling into his eyes. He made one sound, one grunt , and Taehyung immediately said:

“There it is. There’s the Alpha.”

Jungkook wanted to launch himself into the sun. He didn’t respond. Couldn’t respond. His blood had left his body. He was floating somewhere above the room, watching his own humiliation unfold in real time.

They wedged the rug under, shifted it again, and finally dropped the shelf into place. Murder Baby stood victorious. By the time they set it down, he was sweating through his hoodie.

“You okay?” Taehyung asked. “You look like you fought the final boss.”

Jungkook bent over with his hands on his knees. “Shelf... won.”

“Want water?”

“No.”

“Tea?”

“No.”

“Beet-berry smoothie?”

“Absolutely not.”

Taehyung shrugged and handed him the mason jar anyway.

Jungkook stared at it. Took it. Took a sip.

Regretted everything.

“This tastes horrible,” he said.

“It’s beet,” Taehyung replied sweetly.

Jungkook stared at him.

Then, at Murder Baby, now perched like a smug little gremlin on top of the shelf.

Jungkook wiped his hands on his jeans and stared down at the cactus.

“I think it moved,” he whispered.

“It did not,” Taehyung said, not even looking. “You’re imagining it.”

“I think it blinked.”

“You said that last time.”

“And it did.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m being hunted.”

“You’re being weird.”

Jungkook narrowed his eyes.

He looked unfairly happy. Hair tousled. Skin glowing like he lived inside a candle.

Jungkook was doomed.

Forever.

“Wanna sit?” Taehyung offered, gesturing to the couch. “Just for a minute.”

“No.”

“Okay.”

He glanced toward the door.

“Actually,” he said, suddenly desperate to escape, “I left something running. In the kitchen. I mean, at my place. I was boiling... tofu.”

A beat.

Taehyung blinked. “Boiling tofu?”

“It’s a thing.”

“Is it?”

Jungkook was already backing toward the door. “Anyway. Good luck with your shelf. And your... cactus. And your beet-smoothie art gallery lifestyle.”

He reached for Bam’s leash. Bam stood up, tail wagging. In his mouth: a single striped sock.

Jungkook didn’t even have the strength to be mad.

He reached the front door, turned once.

Taehyung was leaning in the doorway, sipping from the mason jar, eyes dancing.

Taehyung saw it.

Paused.

“Oh my god.”

Jungkook didn’t meet his eyes. “He’s a thief. I’m sorry.”

“Tell him he has good taste.”

“I won’t.”

“Next time,” Taehyung said softly, walking him to the door, “maybe you stay long enough to have tea instead.”

Jungkook swallowed. “There won’t be a next time.”

Taehyung smiled. “Sure.”

Jungkook left.

Out on the sidewalk, under the soft haze of the porch light, he exhaled.

“That shelf almost killed me.”

Bam barked.

It didn’t. Taehyung did.

🍓

Jungkook sat on his couch. The lights were off. Bam was asleep next to him, snoring gently, clutching the stolen sock like a stuffed toy.

The smoothie was still on his coffee table. He’d tried to throw it away three times. Failed every time. It was like a cursed object now. Beet-based PTSD.

He unlocked his phone.

Stared at it.

Opened his chat with Yoongi.

Typed:

how many times can a person buffer before their frontal lobe just… gives up?

Deleted it.

Typed again:

hypothetically
if someone accidentally pressed their entire body against a hot barefoot omega in a shirt and then drank a cursed smoothie and watched their dog betray them again
what’s the next step
asking for a friend

He sent it.

Three dots appeared immediately.

yoongi hyung [10:37 pm]

go to sleep.
or shower.
actually shower first.

Jungkook frowned.

He texted again:

Jungkook [10:38 PM]

am i like. feral?
do i give that vibe??
tae said i grunt
do i grunt??
be honest

yoongi hyung [10:38 pm]

oh my god

🍓

He turned on the shower.

Stripped down.

Stood under the water like a man in a tragic music video.

Closed his eyes.

And of course—

It came back.

Taehyung’s voice. His body heat. That slow smile and the casual, unbearable:

“Next time, maybe you stay long enough to have tea.”

Jungkook thumped his head against the tile.

“Fuck.”

He got out of the shower.

Jungkook stared at himself in the mirror.

Naked. Damp. Humiliated.

There was steam curling up the glass, fogging out the sharpest parts of his face, but his eyes were still visible.

Wide. Haunted.

The eyes of a man who had just been called “good boy” by an Omega with smoothie breath and zero shame.

Bam’s sock was in the hallway. Jungkook had tried to take it back. Bam growled. The sock was now Bam’s emotional support object.

“I’m fine,” Jungkook muttered.

The mirror didn’t believe him.

“I am.”

Bam barked from the hallway like no, you’re not.

He turned back to the sink and splashed water on his face, even though he’d just stepped out of the shower.

A towel hung from his hips, but his pride was somewhere under Taehyung’s stupid rug.

He exhaled.

And of course.

Of course .

His brain replayed it all, again.

The laugh.

The scent.

The tiny backstep that turned into body-to-body contact.

The ‘next time’ with a smile.

The smoothie with the beets.

The goddamn cactus.

He groaned and dropped his head into his hands.

This was not supposed to happen. He was famous. Composed. A public figure.

Not some freshly-risen-from-the-ocean Alpha trying to avoid eye contact because someone whispered “look at those muscles go” like it was a casual Tuesday.

He stood upright again.

Stared into the mirror.

“This is fine,” he said aloud.

The mirror fogged up more.

He wiped it clean with a frustrated swipe, then immediately regretted it.

His reflection looked unhinged. Pink ears. Wide eyes. Damp curls plastered to his forehead like a K-drama character who just got rejected in the rain.

“I’ve survived worse,” he reasoned.

Have you? His reflection asked silently.

Because this? This was psychological warfare with a smoothie and a smile.

He turned toward the shower again.

Paused.

Snatched up the shampoo bottle.

Read the label.

"Wild Berry & Rainwater."

His eye twitched.

“I need new shampoo,” he muttered, flinging it into the corner.

Back to the mirror.

He pointed at himself.

“You are not spiralling.”

No response.

“Stop spiralling.”

Nothing.

He narrowed his eyes.

Grabbed a hand towel off the rack.

Covered his face.

And screamed into it.

“WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY.”

The sound was muffled but cathartic. Bam barked again, possibly in alarm. Or maybe agreement.

When he emerged from the towel, he was red in the face and no closer to emotional stability.

He exhaled deeply.

🍓

He didn’t sleep that night.

🍓

Jungkook wasn’t trying to avoid him.

That’s what he told himself as he stood frozen behind a display of ramen noodles, gripping a box of overpriced protein bars like it was a weapon.

He wasn’t avoiding Taehyung.

He was just... making a strategic detour to preserve his last remaining shred of dignity. That was all.

Simple. Logical. Not weird.

(So why was his heart beating like he’d just been chased?)

Bam sat at his feet, tail wagging, tongue out, looking in the exact direction Jungkook was not looking.

That was the problem.

He’d walked into the store thinking of oats. Oats and oat milk and oat-adjacent things. Then he’d seen a flash of blond hair by the fresh produce section, and something in his soul screamed retreat.

So now he was here. Crouched by the ramen like a sad ghost.

He peeked around the corner.

Yep.

Taehyung.

Taehyung was holding a banana. Studying it with way too much focus. Like he was reading the banana’s aura. He looked happy. Relaxed.

Like he hadn’t spent the previous day throwing Jungkook into a full spiritual tailspin.

Jungkook inched backwards.

Bam didn’t move.

“Come on,” he whispered, tugging the leash.

Bam sat down.

Traitor.

Jungkook crouched lower. Maybe if he stayed out of sight long enough—

“Are you stalking me, or are you just emotionally overwhelmed by ramen?”

Jungkook’s spine snapped into a straight line.

Taehyung’s voice was right behind him.

He turned slowly.

Taehyung was standing there, arms full of fruit, eyebrows raised.

“Not that I mind,” he added, “but you’re not very stealthy. The hoodie gives you away.”

Jungkook stared. “I wasn’t stalking.”

“Oh, so it is the ramen?”

“No! I mean, yes. I mean—”

Taehyung grinned. “Relax. I like seeing you out in the wild.”

Jungkook blinked. “This is a grocery store.”

“Exactly. You’re defenceless. It’s adorable.”

Jungkook wanted to scream. He wanted to crawl into the produce bin and live among the peaches.

Taehyung shifted the fruit in his arms. “Wanna walk with me?”

Jungkook’s brain said no.

Bam took off instantly in Taehyung’s direction, dragging Jungkook with him like a furry little traitor with a mission.

Taehyung scratched behind Bam’s ears. “He missed me.”

“He saw you 16 hours ago.”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

“Absence makes me look like a stalker.”

Taehyung smiled. “You’re bad at stalking.”

Jungkook exhaled.

“Fine,” he said, defeated. “I’ll walk with you.”

“Yay!”

“Don’t say yay,” Jungkook muttered, already regretting his life choices.

But he walked beside him anyway. Bam walked happily between them like this was a family outing and not the psychological minefield it actually was.

Taehyung pushed his cart with one hand, the other still loosely cradling his banana like it was precious cargo. He was wearing another hoodie, this one oversized and cream-colored, the sleeves bunched around his wrists like a manga character on his day off. His hair was fluffy and slightly damp, like he’d showered and left the house in five minutes flat.

He looked soft. Stupidly soft.

And Jungkook hated how badly he noticed that.

“So,” Taehyung said, leaning on the cart like they were catching up after brunch, “what’s your cereal of choice?”

“What?”

“You seem like a granola guy.”

“I’m not.”

“Oh. Then what?”

“…Wheaties.”

Taehyung looked horrified. “You eat Wheaties?”

“They’re efficient.”

“They taste like wood chips and disappointment.”

“They’re protein.”

“They’re trauma.”

“I like them.”

Taehyung stared at him, then turned back to the shelves with a sigh. “Your taste in cereal explains everything.”

Jungkook opened his mouth. Closed it again.

He was going to have to rethink every decision he’d ever made.

They rounded the corner into the dairy section. Taehyung placed a tub of yoghurt in the cart without looking.

“What about milk?” he asked casually. “Almond? Oat? Rice? Soy? Cashew? Goat?”

“…Regular.”

Taehyung gasped. “You drink cow milk?”

“It’s milk.”

“It’s suspiciously natural. ”

Jungkook frowned. “You’re the one putting beets in smoothies.”

“That’s science. You’re just asking for gastrointestinal chaos.”

Jungkook considered responding. Didn’t. His stomach did hurt a little from the smoothie yesterday.

Taehyung grabbed another banana. Compared it to the first.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to find the banana with the best energy.”

“That’s not a real thing.”

“Everything has energy,” Taehyung said solemnly.

“You’re in aisle six of a chain supermarket.”

“And yet,” he whispered, holding the bananas up to his ears like they’d whisper their secrets, “the spirits speak.”

Jungkook blinked slowly. “Do they tell you which brand of hummus has the most ethical soul?”

“Only on Thursdays.”

Bam barked once. Taehyung handed him a baby carrot from his cart like this was a normal exchange.

It wasn’t.

None of this was normal.

Jungkook looked down at Bam, who was now chewing like he’d just been knighted.

“This is your fault,” he whispered to his dog.

Taehyung paused again at the tea shelf. He picked up a box labelled "Moonlight Detox."

Jungkook stared. “What even is moonlight detox?”

“Cleanses your aura.”

“From what?”

“Capitalism.”

“I hate everything you stand for.”

“That's okay,” Taehyung said, smiling. “You’ll love me anyway.”

Jungkook short-circuited.

He nearly tripped on Bam’s leash. Regained balance. Pretended he didn’t almost fall over because someone said you’ll love me anyway in the middle of the chamomile section.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung asked, blinking at him.

“I’m fine.”

“You look pale.”

“I’m always pale.”

“Are you sweating?”

“No.”

“Do you need a moonlight detox?”

“I will end you.”

Taehyung just laughed.

They made their way to the checkout line in what Jungkook pretended was silence, but Taehyung hummed a little tune the entire time, something soft and vaguely jazzy, probably improvised, and Jungkook couldn’t unhear it.

It followed him like a curse.

They got to the front.

Taehyung turned to him, smile back in full force.

“I can bag for you,” he offered.

“What? No.”

“Come on, it’s a gentlemanly gesture.”

“I’m perfectly capable of bagging.”

“Let me live out my retail fantasy.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Then I’m paying.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Too late.”

And before Jungkook could stop him, Taehyung tapped his phone and paid for both carts.

Jungkook stared in betrayal. “You—”

“It’s the least I can do,” Taehyung grinned, “after all that trauma you suffered under the shelf.”

“I didn’t suffer.”

“You grunted.”

“You made it weird.”

“You liked it.”

Jungkook opened his mouth and then closed it again because he could feel the cashiers watching.

Taehyung leaned in close and whispered, “Next time I’ll let you lift me instead.”

Jungkook died.

Actually died.

Like, he walked out of the store in a fugue state. Bam had to tug him back to consciousness with the leash. Taehyung handed him his groceries with a sweet little smile like he hadn’t just mentally incinerated a global celebrity in front of six witnesses and a bag of frozen peas.

“I’ll see you around,” he said, breezy and casual.

“You always do,” Jungkook muttered.

Taehyung winked.

Bam barked.

Jungkook considered letting the universe swallow him whole.

🍓

The first thing Jungkook thought when he opened the door and saw Taehyung again was:

I am not ready.

The second thing he thought was:

Is that… a cactus wearing pipe cleaner arms?

Jungkook blinked. Rubbed his eyes. Blinked again.

Nope. Still there.

“Morning!” Taehyung chirped, holding up the plant like it was a newborn.

Jungkook stared.

Taehyung was grinning like a man delivering a bouquet of red roses. “Thought you could use some protection.”

“…Is that supposed to be a threat?”

Taehyung beamed. “This is Gregory.” He said cheerfully. “He’s Murder Baby’s cousin.”

Jungkook stared at the thing. It was smaller than Murder Baby. Rounder. A squat little guy with stubby needles, a bright pink ceramic pot, and tiny green felt eyebrows glued under the eyes.

Jungkook continued staring. “Is this revenge for the Wheaties thing?”

Taehyung gasped. “No! Gregory is a peace offering. A guardian.”

“He has googly eyes.”

“He sees your true self.”

“He has eyebrows. ”

“They’re made of felt. That’s how you know he’s emotionally stable.” Taehyung held the pot out more insistently. “Take him.”

“I don’t want him.”

“He’s emotionally attached now.”

Bam appeared next to Jungkook’s leg, tail wagging like oh my god, a new member of the household!

Jungkook glared down at him. “Don’t encourage this.”

Bam sneezed.

“Great,” Jungkook muttered. “Now he has allergies.”

“Actually,” Taehyung said helpfully, “Gregory’s a hypoallergenic emotional conduit.”

“Don’t say that.”

Taehyung smiled wider. “You need balance. Yin and yang. Murder and emotional support.”

“Stop it.”

“Accept him.”

“I don’t want him.”

Taehyung shoved the pot forward. “Take him or he’ll feel rejected.”

“This is not balance,” Jungkook muttered, finally, reluctantly , taking the pot.

Gregory wobbled slightly in his hands. The eyes stared straight into his soul.

“He’ll remember.”

“I swear to god,” Jungkook said slowly, “if this one blinks too, I’m burning the entire neighbourhood down.”

Taehyung leaned in. “He doesn’t blink.”

Pause.

“He judges.”

“I’m blocking you.”

“You don’t have my number.”

“Yet.”

Taehyung winked. “Anyway, Gregory likes south-facing windows.”

“I’m putting him in the closet.”

“He’ll still see you.”

“Goodbye.”

Jungkook closed the door with more force than necessary.

Gregory came inside with him.

Gregory did not blink.

But Jungkook swore his eyebrows looked smug.

🍓

He put him on the windowsill. Right next to Bam’s food bowl. Which was, in retrospect, a mistake.

Gregory fit in too well. The pink pot stood out like a warning label. The eyes always seemed to be watching. Judging. Silently critiquing every single thing Jungkook did.

Like:

• Reheating pizza for breakfast
  
  
• Watching three hours of aquarium videos
  
  
• Texting Yoongi “pls send brain bleach” with no explanation
  
  

And worst of all?

He kept thinking about Taehyung.

About the way he smiled when he handed over the plant. Like it meant something.

Like he wanted to be remembered.

Jungkook didn’t name plants. He didn’t decorate with googly eyes. He didn’t have feelings about cacti.

But here he was.

Staring at Gregory like the answer to all his problems was written between the felt eyebrows.

“You’re not staying there,” Jungkook said aloud. “This isn’t permanent.”

Gregory said nothing. He didn’t need to.

He tried the living room shelf. Bam kept jumping up to sniff it. Possibly worshipping it.

Eventually, Jungkook gave up and stuck Gregory in the corner of his studio desk.

Which, in retrospect, was worse.

Now the cactus watched him while he worked.

Every time he tried to mix a track or adjust a synth line, there was Gregory. Judging. Silently daring him to make a creative choice that wasn’t vibey enough.

By 2 PM, Jungkook had minimised his Ableton window and was Googling “how long do cactus live” like he was planning a slow assassination.

“Six to ten years?” he whispered. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Gregory didn’t flinch.

The worst part?

He didn’t hate the plant.

That pink pot actually matched Taehyung's beet smoothies.

It looked good in the space.

God help him, it looked cute.

Jungkook put his head down on the desk and groaned.

“This is psychological warfare.”

Gregory said nothing.

He didn’t have to.

His presence was felt.

🍓

He didn’t mean to leave a voicemail.

It just… happened.

One minute, he was staring at Gregory from across the room, and the next, he was pacing his apartment like a caged tiger, the call already ringing, y oongi yung ’s name glowing smugly on the screen.

Ring.

Ring.

Straight to voicemail.

Mistake #1: Jungkook didn’t hang up.

Instead, he just stood there. Phone pressed to his ear. Breathing like someone about to confess to a felony.

And then—

He spoke.

“Hey. Hyung.”

His voice cracked.

He winced.

He cleared his throat.

He paused. Pacing again. Bam blinked at him from his spot on the rug and quietly got up to leave the room.

“Okay, so, just hypothetically, very hypothetically, if someone was being… terrorised. Not, like, physically. Emotionally. Spiritually. By a barefoot man with aggressive smoothie energy. What would you recommend?”

“This isn’t a crisis, I just, well, it’s kind of a situation. But not a real situation, like not an emergency, no one’s dying, except maybe me, emotionally, but I’m being dramatic, I know I’m being dramatic—”

No answer, obviously.

Which meant his brain was free to keep digging the hole.

Mistake #2: He kept going.

“It’s just—fuck, you remember that neighbor I told you about? Yeah. Him. Taehyung.”

He stopped in front of Gregory.

Pointed at it.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

The plant, of course, said nothing.

Jungkook ran a hand through his hair.

“He brought me a cactus,” Jungkook continued, voice rising in pitch. “With googly eyes. And arms. Like, pipe cleaner arms. And eyebrows. ”

He paused at the window. Gregory sat in his spot, motionless. All-seeing.

“And I took it, hyung. I brought it inside. It’s in my house now. I can’t look away. It knows things.”

He turned and paced back toward the kitchen.

“I don’t even like plants. But I didn’t want to be rude, so I took it. And now it’s here. In my space. Judging me. I can feel it judging me, hyung. He’s got those little eyes and the way the pipe cleaner arms curl like he's plotting something—”

He stopped mid-step, hand on his forehead.

He dropped to sit on the arm of the couch, exhaling hard.

“I haven’t slept properly in two days. I dreamt about his smoothie. That beet-flavoured monstrosity. And today I walked into the studio and my hands smelled like berries and I had to spend 20 minutes blaming it on soap like a criminal.”

He paused.

Then added, quieter, “I don’t even use berry soap.”

He passed by a mirror and caught a glimpse of his face, flushed, wild-eyed, lips parted like he’d just run a marathon or committed a crime of passion.

“I think I’m losing it,” he muttered. “Like genuinely. Clinically.”

He paced back to the couch and flopped down dramatically. Bam poked his head into the room, saw the scene, and immediately left again.

“He’s just so casual, hyung. Like all of this is normal. Like I’m the weird one for reacting like a repressed Victorian husband every time he breathes near me.”

He covered his face with one hand.

“And the worst part? The absolute worst part?”

Silence.

Jungkook took a breath.

“I like it.”

He groaned into his palm.

“I like him. I like the chaos. The stupid smoothies. The outfits. The way he pets Bam like they’ve been friends since birth. The way he talks to plants like they’re roommates.”

He paused.

Glanced at Gregory.

“…The way he gave me a cactus so I wouldn’t be lonely.”

A long beat of silence.

“I think I’m gonna cry,” Jungkook whispered, horrifyingly sincere.

He looked at the phone.

Mistake #3: Realizing he was leaving all this in a voicemail.

“OH MY GOD—”

He fumbled with the screen.

Slipped.

Dropped the phone.

The voicemail BEEPED to confirm it had been sent.

Jungkook lay on the floor. “…no.”

Jungkook stared at it like it had personally betrayed him.

Face flushed, hair messy, still shirtless in plaid pyjama pants.

“This is how I die,” he muttered. “Voicemail-induced shame stroke.”

Gregory stared from the counter.

Bam peeked in again. Left immediately.

The phone buzzed once.

A text from Yoongi:

yoongi hyung [9:34 PM]

deleting that from my brain. also you’re insane. also gregory is real and he deserves respect.

Jungkook rolled onto his back and groaned into the void.

🍓

It was 11:43 PM.

It started with a knock.

Not loud. Not urgent.

Just three light taps, gentle and nonchalant, like whoever it was knew they didn’t need to knock hard. Like they knew they’d be let in.

Jungkook froze.

Jungkook had just convinced himself he was ready to sleep, he was already in bed. Shirtless. Hair damp from a late-night shower, mood halfway between sleepy and existential. Lights off, Bam snoring at the foot of the bed, Gregory turned around to face the wall out of sheer pettiness. When someone knocked on the door.

Bam perked up immediately.

The second knock came, and Jungkook groaned.

“No,” he whispered to himself, dragging the blanket off.

He got up slowly, cautiously, like it might be an assassin. Or worse, Yoongi, here to confront him about the voicemail and legally emancipate himself as a friend.

But no.

He opened the door.

Taehyung.

Barefoot.

In plaid pyjama pants. A grey hoodie that slipped off one shoulder. Messy hair that looked freshly flattened by a pillow. Holding two mismatched mugs.

One blue. One yellow.

Jungkook squinted at the scene. “Are you okay?”

Taehyung held up the mugs. “You didn’t answer your texts.”

“I didn’t see any texts. You don’t have my number”

“I didn’t send any.”

Jungkook blinked. “Then how—”

“Vibes,” Taehyung said simply. “I felt called.”

“You cannot keep appearing at my house with beverages.”

“You say that like it’s a threat.”

“It is .”

Taehyung held out the mugs like peace offerings. “One of these is tea. One is wine. I forgot which is which.”

Jungkook’s brain lagged for two full seconds. Taehyung stared back, totally unfazed, his fingers curled around the mugs like this was totally normal and not some late-night fever dream.

“…What?”

“You heard me.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to test fate.”

“Why?”

“To see which one of us is the fun one.”

“I’m going back to bed.”

“Not without your mystery mug, you’re not.”

He held out both mugs, one in each hand. The blue one. The yellow one.

Jungkook opened his mouth to argue.

Jungkook sighed and took the blue.

He sniffed it. Sipped it.

Tea. Just barely. Something floral. Slightly over-steeped, like Taehyung had left the bag in too long while thinking about clouds or something.

“You’re the fun one,” Taehyung announced, taking a sip of his own. “I got the wine.”

“Of course you did.”

Bam appeared beside Jungkook and immediately leaned his head against Taehyung’s knee like he’d been waiting for this reunion.

Jungkook scowled at his dog. “You’re not loyal.”

Bam wagged his tail like you’re not subtle.

They stood in the doorway for a moment, the silence broken only by Bam sniffing Taehyung’s pant leg like it was a scented candle.

Taehyung took another sip. “You look tired.”

“You woke me up.”

“Good. I missed you.”

Jungkook’s brain did that thing again, the buffering circle of death .

“You saw me four hours ago,” he mumbled, staring into the tea like it held answers.

“Four hours is plenty of time to miss someone.”

Jungkook sipped louder to drown out the sound of his heart short-circuiting.

Taehyung leaned against the doorframe, gaze soft, posture lazy. “You always answer the door like you’re afraid it’s me.”

Jungkook hated how natural he looked.

“That’s because it always is you. ”

Taehyung shrugged. “Then you should be used to it.”

“I’m not.”

“You will be.”

Jungkook went still.

There was something about the way he said that. Casual, but certain. Like it was a fact. Like Jungkook wouldn’t have a say in the matter. Like Taehyung had already decided they belonged in each other’s lives, and now it was just about getting him to catch up.

“You can’t keep showing up like this,” he said quietly.

Taehyung tilted his head. “Like what?”

“Like you live here.”

Taehyung blinked. “But I do. Next door.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Taehyung smiled, lazy and warm, the kind that slipped past defences like a thief in the night.

“Then what do you mean, Jungkook?”

“I don’t—” Jungkook ran a hand through his hair. “You make things weird.”

Taehyung blinked, genuinely surprised. “Weird how?”

“Weird like I don’t know how to breathe when you smile at me.”

Silence.

Taehyung stared.

Jungkook stared back.

“I mean—” Jungkook added quickly, “—not literally. I can breathe fine. I just—”

He shut up.

Taehyung took one slow step forward, closing the space between them. “Do you want me to stop coming over?”

Jungkook’s grip tightened on the mug.

He didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

His hand twitched. The mug felt heavy.

Taehyung held his gaze for a moment longer, eyes soft, searching, then gently turned to leave. “I should go.”

Jungkook didn’t move.

“I just wanted to give you a drink and say hi,” Taehyung added. “But if it’s too much—”

Jungkook reached out.

Caught Taehyung’s wrist.

The touch was light. Barely there.

But Taehyung froze instantly.

His skin was warm under Jungkook’s fingers.

They stood like that for several seconds. The mug in Jungkook’s hand. The wine in Taehyung’s. The dog watching them like finally.

“I didn’t say you had to leave,” Jungkook said, voice low.

Taehyung turned back slowly.

His eyes crinkled. “Then let me in.”

Jungkook stepped aside, barely processing what he was doing.

Taehyung walked in like he’d always belonged there.

“I knew Gregory would soften you.”

Bam curled up by the couch like showtime.

Taehyung flopped down onto the sofa with a dramatic sigh, stretching out like he owned the place. “You’ve got good lighting.”

Jungkook stared at him. “It’s eleven-fifty. There’s no lighting.”

“You shine, then.”

Jungkook exhaled sharply. Set the mug down and muttered, “I’m going to bed.”

Taehyung just smiled up at him. “Sweet dreams, Jungkook.”

Jungkook shut his bedroom door.

And leaned against it.

Heart pounding. Brain screaming.

Gregory continued to judge.

🍓

It was supposed to be a normal walk.

He was literally just walking Bam. A late afternoon cooldown loop around the block, hoodie thrown on over a tank top, headphones in, head mostly empty for once.

Then he heard it.

“Jungkoooooook!”

He stopped mid-step. Headphones out.

There, perched on his porch like a bored prince, was Taehyung.

Wearing cherry-red sweatpants. A matching crop hoodie. No shoes. Hair wild. Mug in hand.

Jungkook sighed so hard his soul briefly left his body.

Taehyung grinned. “Do you have a minute?”

“No.”

“Great!” He stood up and gestured him over. “I need your Alpha strength.”

Jungkook blinked. “What?”

“Come on, muscle bunny. Emergency box situation.”

Jungkook opened his mouth to object, but Bam was already running toward the porch like he lived there.

Traitor.

With a muttered curse, Jungkook followed.

🍓

Inside, Taehyung pointed dramatically at a giant taped-up cardboard box sitting in the corner of the living room.

On the side, in big black sharpie, was written: " EMERGENCY BOX – DO NOT OPEN DURING MERCURY RETROGRADE"

Jungkook stared. “What is this?”

Taehyung sipped from his mug. “Don’t worry about it.”

“That’s not comforting.”

“It’s just heavy. Can you bring it upstairs for me?”

Jungkook walked over, knelt next to the box, and tested the weight.

It wasn’t unmanageable, but it was dense. Heavy enough that it’d take effort, light enough that he could carry it alone.

“Why don’t you do it?”

“Because,” Taehyung said, and then leaned forward with a devastatingly casual smile, “you’ve got those pretty arms. Why waste them?”

Jungkook almost dropped the box on his own foot.

He cleared his throat. “Okay.”

Taehyung grinned like he knew exactly what he was doing.

Jungkook bent down and gripped the edges of the box.

It wasn’t until he lifted that things went sideways.

Literally.

Because Taehyung, smug little shit, leaned in and whispered, “Mmm, flex for me, Jungkookie,” and Jungkook, who was 100% NOT mentally prepared to hear that in Taehyung’s voice, lost focus for one second.

One second too long.

His foot caught on the rug.

His balance tilted.

And suddenly he was stumbling forward, the box still in his arms, crashing straight into Taehyung, who caught him with a surprised little oof! and absolutely no effort to move back.

They wobbled. Bam barked once in warning.

Jungkook’s shoulder pressed to Taehyung’s chest. Taehyung’s hand landed on his arm. Their faces—

Too close. Too much.

Everything stopped.

Jungkook could smell him again.

Berries. Always berries. Sweet and warm and soft and infuriating.

Taehyung blinked up at him. “Are you okay?”

Jungkook couldn’t speak.

His heart was having a full existential meltdown. The box felt like it was on fire in his hands. Or maybe that was just Taehyung’s voice echoing in his ears.

Flex for me, Jungkookie.

He dropped the box on the nearest table with a grunt and took two steps back.

“I’m fine,” he muttered. “Rug’s slippery.”

Taehyung looked down at the rug, which was flat and completely unoffending.

Then smiled. “Yeah. Dangerous terrain.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. “You want me to carry it up or just leave it here?”

“Let’s open it,” Taehyung said suddenly.

Jungkook blinked. “I thought it was an emergency box.”

“It’s not Mercury retrograde anymore,” Taehyung said with a wink. “I checked this morning.”

Jungkook gave up on trying to understand him and peeled off the tape.

Inside were… things.

Soft things.

Fabric.

He reached in and pulled out—

A stuffed animal. A faded blue bear, missing one eye, with its ear sewn back on in crooked stitches.

“What… is this?”

Taehyung stepped closer.

“That’s Blueberry. He was my bodyguard from ages four to eleven. Fierce guy. Bit my cousin once.”

Jungkook stared at the bear.

Then at Taehyung.

The next item was a polaroid camera. Then a notebook with sparkly gel pen writing. Then an old record sleeve.

Each thing was stupid and soft and so very Taehyung.

And Jungkook felt it happen. Something unhooking inside him. Quietly.

Without permission.

Without defence.

“Why is this all packed away?”

Taehyung’s voice went quiet. “I guess I wanted to start fresh. Moving here was… a reset, kind of. But I didn’t want to throw it out, so I just kept it hidden.”

Jungkook nodded slowly.

Looked down at the contents again.

There was a folded-up hoodie that looked five sizes too big. A friendship bracelet. A pressed flower in a Ziploc bag.

He reached for the bracelet.

“Is this—”

“I made that for someone who never wore it.”

Jungkook froze. Glanced at him.

Taehyung smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You can have it if you want.”

Jungkook didn’t answer.

He didn’t trust himself to speak.

🍓

He didn’t remember how long they stood there after opening the box.

Taehyung had gone quiet again, calm, like he always got after saying something that meant more than he let on. Like he'd left the door slightly ajar and dared Jungkook to peek in.

Jungkook didn’t.

Couldn’t.

He just helped tape the box shut again, like a coward.

“You’re a good lifter,” Taehyung said suddenly.

Jungkook glanced up. “Thanks?”

“Seriously. You’ve got good form. You always squat before lifting, very safe. Very reliable.”

Jungkook blinked. “Are you complimenting my posture?”

“I’m complimenting you , Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s soul briefly left his body.

Taehyung grinned. “Thanks for the help.”

“No problem,” Jungkook said, and it came out a little hoarse.

He bent to pat Bam, who had been lying in the doorway, looking absolutely bored with their emotionally tense lives. “Come on, let’s—”

Then it happened.

He turned to leave, and Taehyung stepped forward, fast, easy, like it was nothing, and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Quick.

Soft.

Warm.

And then gone.

Jungkook went still.

Absolutely, entirely , globally still.

He could still feel it.

Not the pressure, even. Just the idea of it. The heat of it.

Taehyung stepped back like it had been nothing. “Bye, Jungkook.”

Jungkook made a noise. It wasn’t a word.

He nodded vaguely. Grabbed Bam’s leash with fingers that didn’t feel like his.

Walked out the door.

Didn’t breathe until they’d rounded the corner.

🍓

Back at home, he stood in the middle of the living room. Bam immediately collapsed on the floor.

Jungkook stared at the wall.

Then slowly reached up to touch his cheek.

It was still there. The spot.

Taehyung’s mouth had been there. Not even in a dramatic way, which was somehow worse.

It hadn’t been a joke.

It hadn’t been flirty.

It had just been… real.

Simple. Soft. Normal.

Like it was okay to do that.

Like it was okay to just… kiss Jungkook.

His face was red. He was 100% sure of that. He could feel the heat radiating off him like solar flares.

Bam whined gently from the floor.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jungkook muttered.

Gregory, on the windowsill, said nothing.

His phone buzzed.

He ignored it.

It buzzed again.

And again.

Finally, he glanced at the screen.

yoongi hyung [7:44 PM]

answer your phone.
voicemail said you’re dying
do i need to call an ambulance
or a therapist
or both

Jungkook groaned. Sat up. Called him back.

Yoongi picked up immediately. “Finally.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything.

Yoongi sighed. “So. Dead or dramatic?”

“…He kissed me.”

A beat.

“Okay,” Yoongi said calmly. “Where.”

“My cheek.”

Another beat.

Yoongi inhaled like he was about to deliver a TED Talk. “So. Let me get this straight. He kissed your cheek. Not your mouth. Not your neck. Not your soul. Just your cheek. And now you’re spiralling.”

“It was intimate. ”

“It was polite. ”

“It was an emotional mugging. ”

Yoongi muttered something that sounded like fuck me , and added, “I thought you got mauled or something.”

“I was mauled. With affection. That’s worse.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“No—wait—how do I stop thinking about it?”

“You don’t. That’s the point. That’s literally how crushes work.”

Jungkook slumped forward. “Why does he act like it’s normal?”

“Because it is normal. You’re the problem.”

“Thanks, hyung. You’re so wise.”

“Anytime. Now go take a cold shower and stop calling me unless he tongue-kisses you.”

Click.

Call ended.

Jungkook stared at the ceiling.

Bam barked once, like you got what you deserved.

Then his phone buzzed again.

Unknown [7:47 PM]

you looked cute flustered
sorry if that was too much
i stole your number when you were busy lifting the box
i like your lockscreen bam looks cute
anyway. sweet dreams, flexy.

Jungkook dropped the phone on his chest like it burned.

Taehyung. Stole. His. Number.

From his own phone.

He wanted to be mad. Really, he did.

But mostly, he just wanted to melt into the floor and cease existing.

🍓

Ten minutes later, he opened his Notes app.

New note. Title: “Things That Are Ruining Me (Ranked)”

1. His lips

2. The way he says my name

3. The way he smells like berries and danger

4. His feet. Why is he always barefoot

5. The text. Oh god the text

6. The part where he said “sweet dreams.” What did it mean. Did he mean sleep well or did he mean dream of me

7. What do dreams mean

8. Am I okay

9. Should I google “emotional concussion”

He stared at the screen.

Then typed:

10. I think I’m in trouble.

🍓

The studio was supposed to be his safe space.

It was dim, quiet, comfortably cold. The hum of equipment in sleep mode filled the air like white noise. Bam wasn’t here. Neither was Taehyung. Just Yoongi, hunched over the console like a tired vampire and radiating antisocial peace.

Jungkook closed the door behind him with the gentleness of someone who’d just escaped something he couldn’t name.

“Hey,” he said, dropping onto the couch in the back of the room.

Yoongi grunted in response. “Got coffee in the corner if you want it.”

“Is it your kind or human kind?”

“Human. Jin brought it.”

Jungkook nodded. Took a sip. Let his brain slow down.

For about thirty seconds.

Yoongi didn’t look up. “You look like you survived war.”

“I did.”

Then—

Laughter.

From outside the studio door.

A voice. Male. Playful.

Flirty.

Yoongi looked up and smirked. “Oh. Jimin’s here.”

Jungkook blinked. “Who?”

“Taehyung’s friend.”

The words hit like a cymbal crash in his brain.

Taehyung. Friend. Laughing voice. Right there.

Jungkook’s body snapped back like someone hit pause on his nervous system.

“What?”

Yoongi tilted his head. “Jimin. He dropped by to bring something. You know, shorter guy, pink shirt, flirted with me for five minutes straight, gave me a muffin. Classic.”

Jungkook’s entire soul deflated. “Wait—wait wait wait—you’ve met him?”

“Yeah? Cute guy. Ridiculously confident. Looks like he bites.” Yoongi gave him a slow glance. “Not like that.”

“You said he bites —”

“ Looks like he bites.”

“Oh my god. You talked to him?”

“Yes, Jungkook. I talk to people sometimes.”

Jungkook stared at the door. “So that was him.”

Yoongi glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

“That voice—I heard him outside. Just now. I didn’t know it was him. ”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “He knew who you were. Didn’t say hi, though. Maybe he thought you looked busy.”

Jungkook shook his head. “I’ve never seen him.”

“Sounds like he’s seen you.”

Jungkook groaned and slumped back. “Why is your life a rom-com and mine is a found footage horror film?”

“I think it’s adorable.”

“I think I’m being haunted.”

“You are ,” Yoongi said. “By your feelings.”

Jungkook threw a balled-up napkin at him.

Yoongi dodged easily.

Jungkook’s mind was racing. “Does he know—did Taehyung say something? Did he—does he know

About the box? The shelf? The kiss?!”

Yoongi blinked at him. “You think Taehyung told his friend that he kissed you on the cheek?”

“He might have.”

“I don’t think you have recovered enough to even tell me that story coherently.”

“I haven’t.”

Another voice floated from the hall. Jimin again. He was laughing. Jungkook couldn’t make out the words, just the tone, easy, teasing, full of mischief.

“Stop listening,” Yoongi said.

“I’m not listening.”

“You’re physically leaning toward the door.”

Jungkook yanked himself back upright.

Yoongi leaned back in his chair and raised an eyebrow. “He asked about your tattoo, by the way.”

Jungkook blinked. “My what?”

“Saw your sleeve in a photo. Said it made you look ‘mysteriously tortured.’”

Jungkook pressed his palms into his eyes like that would stop his soul from evacuating his body.

“Oh my god. ”

Yoongi sipped his coffee.

“You’re spiralling again.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Why is he everywhere now?”

“Because you kissed the centre of a very complicated social spiderweb and now it’s pulling you in.”

“I didn’t kiss—he kissed me!”

“Still counts.”

Jungkook groaned and flopped back on the couch.

Yoongi turned back to the console. “Don’t worry. I didn’t tell him anything. I’m saving that blackmail for later.”

Jungkook muttered, “You’re the worst.”

Yoongi grinned. “You love me.”

Jungkook stared at the ceiling. Taehyung had kissed him. His friend had seen him. His producer was smirking at him. And apparently, his tattoo was mysterious and tortured.

He needed a reboot.

Or a nap.

Or another dimension.

Outside, Jimin’s voice floated through the hallway one last time, clear, laughing, knowing.

And Jungkook knew, knew , that somehow, some way, he’d be involved in this disaster again.

🍓

Jungkook was just starting to calm down.

Just beginning to accept that maybe, somehow, the day wouldn’t get worse.

Then Yoongi reached into his pocket.

“You know,” he said, scrolling casually, “you never explained the voicemail.”

Jungkook sat up like a bolt of lightning. “No.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“Do not play it.”

“I mean, you called me, left a voicemail , and then refused to explain—”

“I was spiralling!”

“I know. I recorded it.”

“YOU—”

Too late.

Yoongi’s thumb hit the speaker icon.

The sound that filled the room could only be described as emotional carnage.

“I like him. I like the chaos. The stupid smoothies. The outfits. The way he pets Bam like they’ve been friends since birth. The way he talks to plants like they’re roommates—”

Jungkook launched off the couch like he was going to physically tackle the phone.

Yoongi dodged him with a laugh and held the phone higher.

“ I think I’m gonna cry— ”

“YOONGI.”

Yoongi doubled over laughing. “It’s art. You should release this as a hidden track.”

“I’m going to delete your hard drive.”

“ Gregory is going to hear about this.”

Bam barked from where he’d been dozing in the corner, tail thumping against the floor like even he couldn’t believe what he’d just heard.

Jungkook stood in the middle of the studio, red-faced, vibrating with secondhand embarrassment from himself.

Yoongi grinned, still wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.

“You’re in love.”

“I’m leaving. ”

“Leave the voicemail. I’m keeping it for the wedding.”

Jungkook didn’t respond. He just turned, dramatically, and walked out of the room.

Straight into the hallway.

Where Jimin was just turning the corner.

Holding another muffin.

They locked eyes.

Jimin smiled. “Hey. Nice tattoo.”

Jungkook made a sound no human being should ever make and turned around so fast he nearly dislocated something.

Back in the studio, Yoongi was still laughing.

Chapter Text

It had been four days since The Kiss.

Not a real kiss. Not a real kiss.

Just a cheek kiss.

A soft, casual, completely normal brush of lips to skin that had detonated Jungkook’s central nervous system and rewired every synapse in his brain.

It was fine.

He was fine.

Except that he’d been avoiding the front window, stopped walking Bam during normal hours, and now found himself in the grocery store at 11:27 PM because he couldn’t handle the possibility of running into a man who smelled like berries and smiled like temptation incarnate.

He was getting oat milk.

Nothing more.

Oat milk. Eggs. Toilet paper. Maybe ice cream.

It was supposed to be a stealth mission.

He’d timed it perfectly. After dark, near midnight, hoodie up, mask on, black sweatpants. No jewellery. No cologne. No one would notice him.

No one, especially no one named Kim Taehyung.

The grocery store was empty. Silent. Fluorescent lights flickered above him as he moved down the aisles like a very tired raccoon. The shelves towered around him like judgmental sentinels. It was fine.

He was fine.

He turned the corner.

And froze.

Standing in front of the frozen section in a sweatshirt and frog-print socks, holding a container of yoghurt like it was important.

Taehyung.

Jungkook slammed into reverse like a malfunctioning Roomba and disappeared behind a rack of protein bars.

Nope. Nope, nope, nope.

He peeked over the shelf.

Taehyung hadn’t seen him.

Or so he thought.

Jungkook edged toward the dairy section, pretending to inspect the oat milk.

Behind him, a voice.

“Hey, neighbour.”

He didn’t turn.

No sudden movements, his brain said.

“You’re very subtle,” Taehyung added, calm and amused. “Love the espionage look.”

Jungkook closed his eyes. Took a breath. Considered teleporting.

Taehyung was standing there, biting his bottom lip to stop a grin. “I saw your reflection in the freezer door.”

“I’m just shopping,” he said flatly, still facing the glass.

“Sure,” Taehyung said, stepping closer. “Very normal behaviour to stare at frozen peas for ninety seconds.”

Jungkook turned slowly because he had no choice.

“I was avoiding a… product,” Jungkook said weakly.

“Was the product me?”

Jungkook blinked. “Maybe.”

“I’m flattered.”

“I’m deeply uncomfortable.”

“You look cute uncomfortable.”

“Don’t say things like that.”

Taehyung tilted his head, smile turning soft. “Why not?”

Jungkook opened his mouth. Nothing came out.

Before Jungkook could respond, Taehyung’s phone started ringing. He glanced down, then held it up.

“Speak of the chaos,” he said, and answered. “Jimin-ah.”

Jungkook blinked. Oh no.

“Oh, I’m great,” Taehyung was saying. “Just bumped into Jungkook at the store, actually. He looks like a sexy burglar”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. He mimed NO STOP ABORT with his hands.

Taehyung smirked and kept talking. “He’s trying to disappear into the frozen section. It’s adorable.”

A pause. Then a laugh.

“Yeah, he still looks shook,” Taehyung said. “You really think he was panicking the other day?”

Another pause. Taehyung’s expression shifted slightly. Less amused. More curious.

Then, into the phone:

“Wait—what do you mean, 'he has a comeback'?”

Jungkook’s stomach dropped.

Taehyung blinked. Looked at him slowly. “Comeback? Like… music?”

Jimin said something on the other end.

Taehyung’s gaze lifted slowly to him.

“Wait. Jungkook… are you…?”

Jungkook opened his mouth. Closed it. Nodded.

Jimin said something else.

And Taehyung’s face did That Thing. The slow, dawning realisation. Like a cartoon character remembering where they’ve seen that face before.

“Holy sh—oh my god. You’re that Jungkook?” he asked, voice rising half an octave. “Like—like IDOL Jungkook ?”

Jungkook cleared his throat. “Yes?”

Taehyung just… stared.

And then—

“No wonder you were so twitchy.”

“I wasn’t twitchy.”

“You were so twitchy.”

“I was just—”

“Wait, you’re famous.”

“I didn’t say anything because—”

“You have fans .”

“I—”

“You probably have a Wikipedia page.”

“I DO NOT—”

“I’m gonna look it up.”

“PLEASE DON’T.”

Taehyung burst out laughing, phone still to his ear. “Jimin. Yeah. Yeah, I figured it out. Thanks for the spoiler, by the way.”

Pause.

“Oh, I will,” Taehyung said cheerfully. “Definitely. Gotta get him to sign my yoghurt.”

Jungkook covered his face again.

Then Taehyung ended the call and looked back at him with new eyes, like he was still Jungkook, but now in high definition.

“Rockstar,” he said softly.

“Don’t.”

“You’re so mysterious.”

“Stop.”

“I bet your DMs are terrifying.”

“They are,” Jungkook admitted.

Taehyung smiled. Then leaned in slightly and whispered, “Does this mean I get, like… VIP neighbour privileges?”

Jungkook blinked.

“I don’t even know what that means.”

Taehyung shrugged. “Neither do I. But I want them anyway.”

Jungkook sighed. “I’m leaving.”

“I’m coming with you.”

“No.”

“I’m barefoot.”

“Exactly.”

“Which means I’m more vulnerable. You can’t leave a vulnerable man in the dairy aisle.”

“I absolutely can.”

Taehyung pouted.

Jungkook groaned. “Two minutes.”

Taehyung saluted. “I’ll bring my yoghurt.”

And somehow, as Jungkook turned to leave, he felt his ears go red again, hot and traitorous, because Taehyung had figured out the one thing he’d been trying to avoid, and somehow, it only made everything worse.

🍓

He shouldn’t have let Taehyung walk with him.

It was only three blocks.

Jungkook had told himself that repeatedly, like a mantra, like a lifeline.

Three blocks. He could handle three blocks.

It was a short walk. Three blocks. Nothing major. Just a cool night, two bags of groceries, and one menace walking beside him like it was the most normal thing in the world.

But Jungkook could not think.

Because Taehyung was humming.

Because Taehyung kept looking at him sideways like he knew something Jungkook didn’t.

The man walked like he had no idea he was magnetic. Shoulders relaxed, head slightly tilted up to the stars, hoodie sleeves pushed to his elbows, grocery bag swinging lazily from one hand. He wasn’t even wearing shoes. Just socks with frogs on them. Frogs . And still, somehow, so unreasonably attractive.

Jungkook tried not to look at him.

But it was like trying not to look directly at the sun. He knew it would burn, and yet.

The way their arms almost brushed.

The way Taehyung’s voice dropped when he teased him.

The way the wind blew his hair just enough to tickle Jungkook’s shoulder every time he leaned in slightly.

Jungkook could barely breathe.

“So,” Taehyung said suddenly. “How famous are you?”

Jungkook blinked. “What?”

“Like… billboard famous? Or sexy-indie-boy-who-lives-off-the-grid famous?”

Jungkook tried not to choke on his spit. “I—uh—I guess…”

Taehyung waited, smile dancing at the corner of his mouth.

“… Billboard,” Jungkook muttered.

“Hot.”

“Stop.”

Taehyung tilted his head. “I feel like I’ve seen your face on an underwear ad.”

“You have.”

“Oh my god.” Taehyung beamed. “I thought I hallucinated it in an airport once.”

Jungkook groaned and looked up at the sky like it might swallow him whole.

“Do your neighbours know?”

“No.”

“Is that why you’re so jumpy?”

“I’m not jumpy.”

“You flinched when I said hello.”

“You were barefoot and holding yoghurt. It was alarming.”

Taehyung laughed, low and warm. It crackled through Jungkook’s chest like static. “Relax. I’m not trying to seduce you.”

Jungkook snorted. “You’re humming a love song, and walking so close I can feel your elbow brush mine.”

Taehyung made a thoughtful noise. Then, as if to prove his point, moved even closer.

Jungkook’s brain did a hard reboot.

“You have very warm arms,” Taehyung observed casually.

“I’m going to throw myself in traffic.”

Taehyung laughed, delighted.

They reached the halfway point. The street was quiet, bathed in pale yellow streetlight. The only sounds were the soft rustle of trees and Jungkook’s own erratic heartbeat in his ears.

He dared a glance at Taehyung, who was still just looking around , like the night wasn’t charged with enough tension to power the city.

“Do your fans know where you live?” Taehyung asked suddenly.

“God, no.”

“Should I be honoured I got access to the vicinity of the idol lair?”

“It’s not a lair.”

“It’s definitely a lair. You have blackout curtains and one visible houseplant.”

“His name is Gregory.”

“Oh, I know you talk to him.”

Jungkook glared. “You were not supposed to hear that.”

“Gregory and I are spiritually connected. I’m his stepfather.”

“You’re unhinged.”

“And you let me in your house.”

“That was a moment of weakness .”

“You had two .”

“I regret them both.”

“Liar.”

They turned onto their street.

Taehyung kicked a pebble with his socked foot. “You’re nicer than you pretend to be.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You made me toast.”

“I wanted you to leave.”

“You cut it diagonally.”

“That means nothing.”

“It means care.”

“Shut up.”

Taehyung smiled to himself. Like he knew exactly what he was doing.

They stopped in front of Taehyung’s door. The porch light cast a soft glow around them. Jungkook realised suddenly that his palms were a little sweaty. His heart was in his throat.

Taehyung looked at him. Not with mischief. Not with smugness.

With something quieter. Warmer.

“I like being around you, you know.”

It hit like a wave. Quiet but strong. Unassuming but devastating.

Jungkook didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

He was too busy standing perfectly still and praying his face didn’t give away everything .

“I have a favour to ask.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow.

Taehyung shifted his grocery bag to one arm. “I need help with something in the house.”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what it is.”

“Still no.”

“It’s very heavy.”

“You said that last time.”

“This time it’s also fragile.”

“You want me to carry a delicate, heavy thing ?”

Taehyung shrugged. “Alpha strength.”

Jungkook nearly tripped over his own feet.

“I swear,” he said. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Doing what?” Taehyung asked, wide-eyed and definitely not innocent.

“This—this whole thing. The flirting. The chaos. The emotional whiplash.”

“I’m just being friendly.”

“You kissed me.”

“On the cheek.”

“You texted me afterwards .”

“You didn’t say stop.”

“You sent me a heart emoji.”

“It was purple.”

Jungkook blinked. “What difference does that make?!”

“It’s the non-threatening one.”

“You’re deranged.”

“You love it.”

They stood there, face to face now, grocery bags in hand, moonlight bouncing off the pavement.

Jungkook could feel the tension buzzing under his skin.

Taehyung looked at him like he was trying to solve a puzzle. Like he already knew the answer but wanted to watch Jungkook struggle toward it anyway.

And before he could react, before he could say anything or panic or run—

Taehyung added, “So. Will you help me?”

Jungkook swallowed.

“… What is it?”

Taehyung smiled, slow and dangerous. “You’ll see.”

🍓

By the time Jungkook stepped into Taehyung’s living room, he was already regretting everything.

He should’ve just walked away at the door.

Should’ve said no. Should’ve gone home, made tea, and stared at the ceiling like a normal person in crisis.

But now he was inside. Again.

And in front of him stood the reason for Taehyung’s dramatic plea: A vintage lamp.

Or… something that used to be a lamp. Now it looked more like a cross between a jellyfish and a sentient fungus. The shade was oversized, made of opaque pink glass with a small crack on the side, and the base was brass and twisted like vines, clearly once expensive, now just tired.

A frayed cord snaked out behind it like a little tail.

It sat in the centre of the rug like it knew it was important.

“This is the emergency?” Jungkook said.

Taehyung stood beside it proudly, arms crossed like he was presenting a prize cow at a fair.

“This is the emergency,” he announced.

“That’s a crime scene, ” Jungkook muttered.

“She was the first thing I ever bought for myself, like… proper adult money. I was eighteen. Just moved into this terrible shoebox apartment with a radiator that sounded like it had demons. I didn’t even have a mattress yet, but I saw her in a thrift store window and bought her on impulse. Didn’t even bargain.”

Jungkook blinked. “You bought a haunted lamp before a bed?”

“She glowed like the moon,” Taehyung said softly, “and the room looked less lonely when she was on.”

Jungkook looked at it again.

“…Why?”

“It reminded me of jellyfish.”

“Of course it did.”

Taehyung crouched beside it, running his hand lovingly along the glass. “Her name is Clementine.”

Jungkook stared. “I’m sorry?”

Taehyung grinned. “It hasn’t worked in like three years, but I can’t throw it out. It’s got vibes.”

“It’s got tetanus.”

“I need help rewiring it.”

“I’m not an electrician.”

“You’re an idol with muscle mass and tattoos. You look like you know how to fix things.”

“That’s stereotyping.”

“That’s manifestation.”

Jungkook sighed but crouched on the rug, knees brushing with the Omega's. Taehyung pulled out a small box of tools, half-empty, slightly rusted.

Jungkook took the plug end and inspected it. “This thing is dangerous.”

“It’s nostalgic.”

“Do you want to die?”

“I want you to fix it.”

Jungkook didn’t answer. He didn’t know how.

Instead, he looked back at the lamp. “Where do you want me to start?”

“Check the base. Maybe the wiring’s loose?”

He leaned forward, inspecting the panel, and heard Taehyung shifting closer. Their shoulders touched.

He froze.

Taehyung pointed to the underside. “Here, see? That little screw’s loose.”

Jungkook leaned in.

Taehyung leaned in too.

They were practically wrapped around each other now, heads bent toward the same object, the air between them crackling with proximity and static and whatever the hell had been building since Day One.

Jungkook reached for the screw.

Taehyung did too.

Their hands touched.

Again.

This time, neither of them moved.

Jungkook’s heart stuttered. Felt the jolt go all the way up to his ears.

He looked over.

Taehyung was already looking at him.

Soft eyes. Tilted smile. That unreadable expression again, like he was halfway between a joke and something real.

“You okay?” he asked.

Jungkook nodded.

Taehyung leaned in slightly. “Okay to touch?”

Jungkook’s brain short-circuited again.

“Me?” he croaked.

Taehyung blinked. “I meant the cord.”

“Oh.”

There was a pause.

Then a slow, amused smile. “You want me to touch you?”

Jungkook made a strangled noise. “NO—just—I—”

“Too late. I’m rewiring your brain now.”

“You’ve already done that.”

They both laughed.

Then they didn’t.

Because the laughter faded into something quieter. The kind of silence that pulls things close.

And then—

Taehyung reached forward to grab the cord, and Jungkook did the same—

Their hands met. Their faces were so close.

Jungkook could feel Taehyung’s breath. Could see the little crease in his bottom lip. Could feel the yes hanging between them like static before a storm.

Their noses almost brushed.

And then—

KNOCK KNOCK.

“TAEEEE,” Jimin’s voice shouted through the door, absolutely zero shame. “LET ME IN I BROUGHT KIMCHI RAMYEON AND I’M HUNGRY.”

Jungkook jumped.

Taehyung stood up slowly, exhaling like he’d just surfaced from underwater. He looked down at him, a soft smile on his lips and something a little deeper in his eyes.

Jungkook sat frozen.

Taehyung called back, “COMING.”

Then, to Jungkook, “We’ll fix her later,” he said, nodding at the lamp.

Jungkook nodded, dazed. “Okay.”

Taehyung took one step toward the door, then paused.

“Jungkook?”

“Yeah?”

“I’d let you touch me,” he said lightly, “if you ever wanted to clarify.”

Then he walked out.

And Jungkook forgot how to breathe.

🍓

Jungkook had just recovered the use of his lungs when the door flung open like a rom-com meteor strike.

“I COME BEARING RAMYEON AND GOSSIP,” came the unmistakable voice of Park Jimin, loud, chipper, and heavily scented with both secrets and body spray.

Jungkook flinched.

He was wearing a cropped white tee and loose jeans that hung artfully off his hips. There was a pink band-aid on one finger and a tote bag slung over one shoulder like a war trophy.

And he was glowing.

Literally. Skin dewy. Cheeks flushed. Hair tousled like he’d just rolled out of bed, or something that had nothing to do with sleep.

Jungkook narrowed his eyes.

There was a scent lingering around him. That soft, sweet peach blossom tone he remembered from a thousand ads for omega skincare lines, but buried beneath it, woven into his clothes and hair like a whisper of sin:

Coffee and vanilla.

Strong. Rich. Lingering.

Alpha.

And Jungkook knew that scent like the back of his hand, like every sleepless night in the studio, like the very first comfort he ever recognised in the industry.

It was Yoongi.

And it was fresh.

Jimin caught sight of him.

And stopped.

His whole face did this micro-expression shift: surprise, confusion, mild horror, and then a blinding smile so fast Jungkook almost believed it.

“Oh!” Jimin said. “You’re here.”

He said it like Jungkook was an unexpected plant.

Taehyung popped out from the hallway, completely unaware of the weird scent tension fogging the air. “JIMIN. You almost gave Jungkook a heart attack.”

“Did I?” Jimin asked sweetly, then gave Jungkook a once-over. “You okay? You look… sweaty.”

“I’m fine,” Jungkook said flatly, which is exactly what someone who is not fine would say.

Jimin wandered toward the kitchen. “What are we doing? Movie night? Arts and crafts? Emotional self-sabotage?”

“I was just telling Jungkook about Clementine,” Taehyung called out, flopping down next to him again and nudging his shoulder like nothing had happened moments ago. Like he hadn’t almost kissed him. Like he hadn’t said he’d let Jungkook touch him. Like his entire existence wasn’t driving Jungkook slowly insane.

Jimin popped his head back in from the kitchen. “The lamp? She still broken?”

“She’s going through it.”

“Aren’t we all— Do you even have bowls?” Jimin yelled. “Or do I have to eat straight from the pot like a barbarian?”

“There’s a pink one with cartoon hearts in the top cabinet,” Taehyung said automatically.

“I love you.”

“I know.”

Jungkook had the bizarre realisation that this was normal for them.

The back-and-forth. The chaos. The shared memories. The bowl of cartoon hearts.

And he was sitting here like an intruder who had accidentally wandered into someone else’s sitcom.

Then Jimin returned, ramyeon in hand, sipping a soda and looking like he hadn’t just walked into a war zone of romantic tension and unresolved electricity.

Except he had .

Jungkook’s stomach flipped.

“Why are you here, again?” Jimin asked, looking at Jungkook.

Taehyung shrugged. “He came to help me lift the lamp.”

Jimin raised a brow, not even pretending to hide his smirk. “That all he lifted?”

Taehyung threw a wrench at him.

Jimin caught it one-handed.

Jungkook wanted to dissolve into the carpet.

“Actually,” Taehyung said, suddenly remembering, “didn’t you say you were meeting someone earlier? That’s why you were late.”

Jimin went still for a fraction of a second.

Too still.

Then he waved a hand airily. “Oh, yeah. Studio run. Nothing major.”

“Whose studio?”

“Oh, you know…” Jimin glanced at Jungkook and then looked away so fast it was suspicious as hell. “...a friend’s.”

Jungkook wasn’t imagining things, that scent was unmistakable.

“Smells like vanilla in here,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

Jimin glanced at him. “Hmm?”

“And coffee,” Jungkook added, more sharply. “You smell like coffee.”

Taehyung blinked and finally noticed the same thing. “Wait, yeah—did you stop at a café?”

There was a flicker of something, micro panic, maybe, but it vanished just as fast.

“Uh—sort of,” he said, eyes darting. “Not really. I was at the studio, as I told you.”

“Whose?” Jungkook asked.

Jimin looked him dead in the eye and said:

“A friend’s.”

Jungkook’s jaw ticked.

Taehyung raised a brow. “Do I know this friend?”

“You know of him,” Jimin said carefully, like walking around a minefield.

Taehyung gasped. “Wait. Wait. Is this about—”

Jimin’s eyes widened. “NOPE. No, it’s not.”

Jungkook watched him, eyes narrowing. He tilted his head, voice ice-calm.“You were at Yoongi’s studio.” 

The can of soda hissed slightly in Jimin’s grip.

“...What?”

“You smell like Yoongi-hyung,” Jungkook said, very plainly. “Coffee. Vanilla. Mixed with your scent. Strongly.”

Jimin coughed.

Taehyung gawked . “YOU SAID YOU WERE GETTING COFFEE.”

“I DID,” Jimin shrieked. “AND THEN I GOT SOMETHING ELSE.”

Jungkook blinked. “Wow.”

“I WAS GOING TO TELL YOU,” Jimin shouted at Taehyung. “But then he was here.”

He gestured wildly at Jungkook, like Jungkook had personally offended him by existing in his pheromone cloud.

Jungkook looked down at the screwdriver in his hand and very calmly placed it back in the box.

Taehyung turned slowly. “What the hell happened?”

Jimin took a long, unnecessary sip of soda.

“...I came here to tell you,” he muttered, then glared at Jungkook. “But I didn’t expect your boyfriend to be sitting cross-legged on the floor like a romance novel character. ”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Taehyung and Jungkook said at the same time.

More silence.

Jimin stared at both of them.

Then cracked up laughing.

“You two are SO doomed,” he wheezed. “Oh my god.”

🍓

He didn’t remember leaving.

One minute, Jungkook was sitting in Taehyung’s living room, watching Jimin inhale spicy ramyeon and Taehyung scream into a pillow about his best friend being defiled.

The next, he was outside in the night air, keys in hand, phone half-dead, and his brain on fire.

He walked home in a daze.

Jungkook’s hoodie was still faintly infused with berries and static and broken-lamp energy. He could smell it in the fabric, could still feel the almost-kiss hovering like a ghost over his lips.

His steps slowed.

“‘I’d let you touch me,’” he whispered aloud, voice pitched in disbelief.

That was a thing Taehyung had said. To his face. Casually. Without flinching. And then he left. He left. To go laugh and eat noodles with Jimin like he hadn’t just obliterated Jungkook’s central nervous system.

Jungkook stopped walking and covered his face with both hands.

“I hate this,” Jungkook mumbled.

He resumed walking, faster this time. Tried to think of literally anything else.

Instead:

The way Taehyung’s fingers had brushed his.

The tilt of his mouth.

The pause before they’d leaned in—

The interruption.

The after.

Jungkook groaned.

By the time he got home, he felt like he’d aged five years.

He dumped his keys, poured water for Bam, collapsed onto the couch with a dramatic exhale, and immediately reached for his phone.

Instagram.

He didn’t even think about it.

Taehyung’s profile was open in under five seconds.

His grid was insane. Bright, blurry, chaotic. Pics of ramen, museum floors, a random pigeon in sunglasses, and a million selfies with strangers and dogs. There was a video of him trying to juggle tomatoes. A post captioned “Mood: wet sock” featuring only a close-up of a wilted flower.

He was... unreal.

Jungkook scrolled and scrolled and scrolled—

Then accidentally liked a photo from 2017.

“NO.”

He panicked and unliked it. Prayed to the algorithm gods. Briefly considered throwing his phone into the sea.

Instead, he opened the Notes app.

things i am NOT doing:

• catching feelings
  
  
• getting distracted
  
  
• kissing anyone who smells like berries and sunshine
  
  
• letting my producer’s hookup ruin my night
  
  

things i AM doing:

• minding my business
  
  
• ignoring my own brain
  
  
• probably never sleeping again
  
  

also he said i could touch him and i can’t stop thinking about it

help.

He stared at it.

Then locked his phone.

Then unlocked it and stared again.

Then curled into a ball and groaned.

Bam jumped onto the couch and plopped down beside him.

Jungkook buried his face into the dog’s fur. “I’m not spiraling,” he mumbled.

Bam licked his cheek.

“I’m just, thinking. Introspecting.”

Bam licked him again.

“I’m fine.”

He was absolutely not fine.

🍓

Jungkook was already smirking when he pushed the studio door open.

Not because he had any right to be smug. He’d barely slept. Bam was still shedding all over his hoodie, and he’d been spiralling for hours about Taehyung’s I’d let you touch me whisper like it hadn’t wrecked his soul. But none of that mattered now.

Because he smelled Yoongi before he saw him.

Not in the usual we’ve-been-recording-all-night way. No, this was different .

The air in the studio was thick with Yoongi’s scent, coffee, vanilla, and something richer now. Stronger. Settled. Like it had soaked into the fabric of the room.

And Jungkook had one word for it.

Suspicious.

Yoongi barely looked up from the mixing board. “You’re late.”

Jungkook raised his coffee cup. “You’re early.”

“You said noon.”

“It’s 12:08.”

“That’s not not late.”

Jungkook dropped into the chair beside him, Bam immediately curling up under the desk like he owned the place.

Yoongi leaned back, nodding at the dog. “I’m gonna start charging him for studio time.”

“He brings good vibes,” Jungkook said casually, sipping his iced americano. “Unlike some people.”

Yoongi hummed. “Someone’s salty.”

“Not salty. Just observant.”

Yoongi didn’t bite. He never did.

But Jungkook had time today.

He swirled his drink once, then glanced sideways with his most neutral smile.

“So,” he said, almost lazy. “Peach blossoms.”

Yoongi blinked. “What?”

“You’ve smelled like this for two days,” Jungkook continued, voice all fake-casual. “Usually it’s just burnt coffee and judgment. But now it’s… sweeter.”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, really?” Jungkook said sweetly. “Because you smell like dessert.”

“Shut up.”

“Coffee. Vanilla. And a hint of guilt.”

“Shut. Up.”

“And last night—funny thing—I caught the exact same scent combo on a certain someone.”

Yoongi squinted. “Don’t say it.”

“Park Jimin.”

Yoongi turned slowly toward him, deadpan. “Are you twelve?”

Jungkook grinned. “No, I just finally have material. ”

There was a long beat of silence.

Then Yoongi sighed and looked up at the ceiling like it might offer salvation.

“It wasn’t planned.”

Jungkook raised a brow.

“We were talking. He was… being Jimin. And I don’t know.something just—happened.”

“Ooooh,” Jungkook said, spinning in his chair. “So it did happen.”

“Not what I said.”

“You also didn’t deny it.”

Yoongi hesitated. “...Then things got complicated. ”

“Was the desk involved?”

Yoongi choked .

Bam barked.

“I hate you,” Yoongi rasped, grabbing his water bottle.

“Do you?” Jungkook said, all innocence. “Because Jimin seemed pretty happy about it.”

“YOU TALKED TO HIM?”

“Oh yeah,” Jungkook said. “He came over with ramyeon and trauma. Smelled like you, too. Not subtle at all.”

Yoongi groaned into his hands.

Jungkook leaned back, absolutely basking in this reversal of power.

“He tried to play it cool,” he added. “You’d think he spilt some soy sauce. Not… you.”

“Can we not talk about this?”

“Nope.”

Yoongi sighed again. “I was going to tell you.”

“Sure you were.”

“I was! You just—beat me to it.”

“I’m your idol, hyung,” Jungkook said, hand over heart. “It’s my job to observe and report.”

Yoongi gave him a long, unamused stare.

“And what about you, Mr. Sudden-Handyman?” he said finally. “Word on the street is you’ve been fixing lamps and flirting with omegas who smell like berries.”

Jungkook’s face betrayed him instantly. A twitch. A single inhale too sharp.

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed.

“I—” Jungkook started.

“Oh,” Yoongi said, grinning. “So something did happen.”

“Nothing happened.”

“But something almost happened.”

Jungkook groaned. “Can we go back to roasting you, please?”

Yoongi leaned back, arms crossed, satisfied. “Only fair.”

“I hate this.”

“I know.”

They sat in silence for a second, Bam snoring lightly between them.

Then Yoongi added, “You know he likes you, right?”

Jungkook blinked. “Who?”

Yoongi looked at him like he was stupid. “ Taehyung. ”

Jungkook’s heart did a little skip , but he kept his face neutral.

“Maybe,” he said. “I mean… I don’t know.”

Yoongi snorted. “He told you you could touch him. That’s omega for I like you, and also maybe want to climb you like a tree. ”

Jungkook coughed.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “Am I wrong?”

“I need a new producer.”

“You need therapy.”

They sat in silence again.

Jungkook stared at the track screen.

Yoongi tapped at the keyboard.

Bam stretched out and yawned.

Finally, Jungkook said, “You’re glowing.”

Yoongi didn’t look up. “So are you.”

🍓

It wasn’t supposed to be anything.

Jungkook had just stopped by to check on Bam, who had bolted into Taehyung’s yard the second the gate creaked, and maybe return the Tupperware from the last time Taehyung brought over homemade kimchi pancakes.

Casual. Neighborly. Totally normal behaviour. He wasn’t here because he wanted to see Taehyung again. He wasn’t.

And he definitely wasn’t expecting a full-blown smoothie apocalypse.

“Okay, don’t be mad,” Taehyung called out from the kitchen. “But I might’ve... melted the blender.”

There was berry sludge on the counter. On the floor. On Taehyung’s jawline, inexplicably. Jungkook stared, stunned.

“How do you melt a blender?”

Taehyung popped his head out of the kitchen, blinking innocently. His hair was tousled like he’d rolled out of bed into chaos, cheeks flushed, apron slung carelessly over his torso.

“I didn’t melt it on purpose,” he said with a shrug. “I was experimenting with heat.”

Jungkook blinked. “With what? Nuclear fruit?”

Taehyung didn’t even flinch. “High-heat protein powder. Don’t ask. It tasted like failure and antioxidants.”

Jungkook was already smiling. He hated that he was. But there was something so stupidly endearing about the whole thing, the berry splatter, the crooked smile, the way Taehyung looked entirely too pleased with himself.

Then Taehyung licked some smoothie off his thumb. Jungkook could not for the life of him understand why this made him want to grab him by the waist and press him into the fridge.

Jungkook’s brain stalled.

His gaze dropped. To Taehyung’s mouth. To the smear of berry just below his lip. To the curve of his jaw.

It was unbearable.

“You got some,” Jungkook murmured, gesturing vaguely.

Taehyung tilted his head. “Where?”

“Here,” Jungkook said, stepping closer.

It wasn’t intentional. It wasn’t anything. He was just trying to be helpful. That’s what he told himself.

But then Taehyung stepped forward too, holding up a paper towel like a truce offering. He gently wiped something off Jungkook’s jawline, whether or not there was actually anything there.

His fingers brushed skin.

Jungkook stopped breathing.

Taehyung smelled like berries. Like sunshine and sugar and something that made Jungkook’s chest ache.

“Seriously,” Jungkook rasped, “you’re going to get punched if you keep doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Being like this.”

Taehyung’s eyes twinkled. “Like what?”

“Like you’re trying to kill me.”

A beat.

Taehyung leaned in slightly. “Maybe I am.”

It hit Jungkook in the gut. The way Taehyung said it, soft, smug, and so close , broke whatever thread of self-control he had left.

So he kissed him.

There was no thought. No plan. Just him and Taehyung and the space between them that didn’t matter anymore.

It was messy and sudden, all hands and breath and instinct. One hand gripped Taehyung’s waist, the other sliding up to cradle the back of his neck. Their lips met in a clash of surprise, heat, and something far too overdue.

Taehyung gasped against him, just once, and then kissed back.

The counter dug into Jungkook’s hip. Taehyung was soft everywhere. Warm. Alive in a way that made Jungkook dizzy.

They broke apart for breath. Jungkook barely managed to pull back a fraction before Taehyung leaned in again, catching his bottom lip in a kiss so slow it made his heart stutter.

He couldn’t think.

He didn’t want to.

Taehyung’s hands were fisted in his hoodie. His thumbs rubbed tiny circles into Jungkook’s chest. Like he belonged there. Like he’d always belonged there.

It was all stupid. So stupid. He still tasted like berry protein sludge. Jungkook had no plan. No idea what he was doing.

But God, it felt good.

They parted a few moments later, both breathless.

Taehyung’s eyes opened slowly. His cheeks were pink. His mouth, red and kiss-bruised, parted just slightly as if to ask again?

Jungkook pulled away with effort.

“I—uh.”

Taehyung blinked at him.

Jungkook gestured vaguely to the kitchen. “I kissed you.”

“You really did,” Taehyung said, voice low.

“Like... seriously kissed you.”

“Yes.”

Jungkook swallowed. “I don’t regret it.”

Taehyung’s smile widened. “Then why do you look like you’re about to pass out?”

Jungkook opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

“Breathe,” Taehyung whispered, stepping closer again.

Then he kissed him back.

This time, it was sweet. Intentional. Warm like spring air.

Jungkook closed his eyes and let it happen.

Let himself fall.

🍓

They eventually drifted apart, gravity unwilling, but reality creeping back in with the sound of a blender piece rolling off the counter and clattering to the floor.

Taehyung laughed first. That husky, sun-drenched laugh that made Jungkook want to smile with his whole body.

“Guess we broke the blender and the neighbour boundary,” Taehyung said.

Jungkook huffed, leaning back on the counter, trying to cool down. “You broke the blender. I just committed light trespassing.”

“You kissed me like you meant it,” Taehyung said softly.

Jungkook turned to him. His chest felt tight again, but this time it wasn’t panic. It was something closer to awe.

“I did.”

They stood in that little bubble a moment longer, surrounded by smoothie splatters and emotional whiplash, before Bam barked outside, reminding them the world still existed.

Taehyung grinned. “Want to stay for a bit ?”

Jungkook hesitated.

Then nodded. “Yeah. I think I do.”

Chapter Text

Jungkook woke up to the smell of berries.

Not the artificial kind, like the cereal box in his pantry. No, this was the soft, warm kind. Real and specific. Like crushed fruit and sunshine and something that made his chest tighten.

He rolled over in bed, nose buried in the pillow before he even thought about it, and inhaled deeply.

Berries.

He shot upright.

The pillowcase was clean. So was the hoodie draped at the foot of the bed, the one he’d tossed there without thinking after getting home last night. But the scent was there, faint, but unmistakable. It clung to the air like memory.

Taehyung.

Jungkook ran a hand down his face.

“Okay,” he muttered to himself. “Okay. That happened.”

He kicked off the covers like it would help.

It didn’t.

Everywhere he turned, there was evidence. Not of the kiss, that was tucked somewhere behind his ribs like a secret, but of Taehyung. His scent. His laugh. His stupid berry-smoothie disaster. The way his hands had fisted Jungkook’s hoodie like he didn’t want to let go.

Jungkook opened his closet and froze.

There, at the front, was the hoodie Taehyung had borrowed the week before. The one he’d returned folded, neatly, like it wasn’t a piece of Jungkook’s soul he’d casually touched.

He stared at it for a long second.

And then he grabbed it.

He didn’t mean to press it to his face. He didn’t.

But he did.

It still smelled like berries. A little fainter, maybe, but still him.

Jungkook dropped it like it burned.

“Nope,” he said to the empty room. “Absolutely not.”

He stomped to the kitchen. Made coffee like it was war. Pulled his favourite mug out of the cabinet, the one Taehyung had used the last time he came over.

Sipped.

Froze.

Berries.

“WHY,” Jungkook groaned.

It was fine. Totally fine. He was normal. Just a completely rational alpha going feral over a mug. No big deal.

He was still mid-spiral when his phone buzzed.

Taehyung [08:22 AM]

you left your water bottle here. also your hoodie. it smells like confusion.

Jungkook stared.

Taehyung [08:23 AM]

want it back?

Jungkook [08:24 AM]

nah keep it. it probably smells better on you anyway.

He hit send.

Paused.

Immediately followed up:

Jungkook [08:24 AM]

that wasn’t flirting

i mean it was. but not in a weird way

im going back to bed

Taehyung didn’t reply.

But five minutes later, Jungkook got a photo.

It was Bam (when did he leave?), curled up on the hoodie in question.

Caption: we’re keeping it

Jungkook buried his face in his hands and let out a noise that could only be described as alpha with a doomed crush syndrome.

Outside, the city moved on.

Inside, Jungkook opened his Notes app and typed:

possible side effect of kissing taehyung:

• everything smells like him
• mug is ruined
• i am also ruined

🍓

There was a knock at the door.

Jungkook was halfway into a hoodie that definitely didn’t smell like Taehyung anymore. Because he washed it, okay? Like a normal person. Because it got smoothie on it.

Not because he was scenting it.

Or sleeping next to it.

Or panicking over losing the berry smell like a teenager with a crush.

He opened the door in gym shorts and regret.

Taehyung was standing there, holding two smoothies and a box of granola bars like a brunch ghost who manifested to test Jungkook’s willpower.

“Good morning, Alpha,” he said cheerfully. “You left me unsupervised, and now I have ideas.”

Jungkook blinked. “What kind of ideas?”

“Breakfast,” Taehyung replied. “Also emotional vulnerability, but mostly breakfast.”

He walked in without waiting for permission, because of course he did, and dropped the smoothie in Jungkook’s hand like it was some sort of peace offering.

It was warm in the apartment. Too warm. Jungkook still smelled faint traces of Taehyung’s hoodie on the edge of the couch, even though he threw it in the laundry pile yesterday. He knew Taehyung could smell himself on it, too. The bastard probably planned this.

“Is this blueberry?” Jungkook asked, eyeing the drink suspiciously.

“Blueberry banana oat milk chia,” Taehyung replied, like he just won a vegan bake-off.

“Disgusting.”

“You’re welcome.”

Jungkook sipped it anyway.

They end up in the kitchen somehow, because Taehyung moved like he had always belonged there. He grabbed a mug from the shelf, Jungkook’s mug, and started making tea like it was not the biggest act of war an Omega could commit in an Alpha’s kitchen.

Jungkook froze when he saw it. His favourite mug. The black one with the chipped handle and faint scent markers from years of use.

Taehyung held it up. “You want one too?”

“No,” Jungkook croaked.

“Suit yourself.”

He turned to grab the kettle, and Jungkook watched as Taehyung’s scent, warm berries, sunshine, danger , curled into the ceramic and soaked right in. Like it belonged there.

And Jungkook hated it.

And Jungkook loved it.

And now he could never use that mug again without thinking about the exact shape of Taehyung’s mouth and how it had looked three inches away from his the night they kissed.

“You okay?” Taehyung asked, leaning against the counter with the world’s most suspicious smirk.

Jungkook forced a breath. “Totally.”

“You’re looking at me like I stole something.”

“You did. My mug.”

Taehyung took a sip and moaned softly, eyes fluttering closed. “God. It tastes amazing.”

Jungkook had to walk into the living room to avoid saying something stupid like I know .

🍓

Yoongi was already sitting behind the soundboard when Jungkook walked in. The lights were low, bass rumbling through the floor. It was normally a safe space. A creative zone. A judgment-free sanctuary.

But that day?

Yoongi sniffed once, eyes narrowing.

“What the hell is that smell?”

Jungkook froze mid-step.

Yoongi turned in his chair and stared directly at him.

“Your scent. It’s leaking.”

“It’s not.”

Yoongi snorted. “Don’t play dumb. You smell like rain and denial.”

“I’m literally just existing.”

“You are existing in a cloud of omega berries.”

Jungkook groaned and dropped into the nearest chair, dragging his hands down his face. “It’s Taehyung.”

Yoongi hummed, unsurprised. “The smoothie menace?”

“He came over this morning with breakfast.”

Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “You sound personally attacked.”

“I am. He used my mug, hyung.”

“Oh no,” Yoongi deadpanned. “Your mug. Did he touch your vinyl, too?”

“I don’t know what we are anymore,” Jungkook muttered, staring at the mixing board like it could give him answers.

Yoongi leaned back. “Sounds like you’re an Alpha who caught feelings for the omega next door.”

“I didn’t catch anything. I kissed him once.”

“Twice.”

Jungkook glared. “Don’t do this.”

Yoongi shrugged. “Look, I’m just saying. You smell like you’d been scenting things and thinking about him in your kitchen like a loser.”

“I wasn’t scenting—”

“Jungkook.”

Pause.

“…Okay, I was scenting the hoodie a little.”

“And the mug.”

Jungkook groaned again. “I’m so fucked.”

Yoongi sipped his coffee, completely unfazed. “You should probably write a song about it.”

Jungkook already had half the chorus in his Notes app.

🍓

It was supposed to be a chill outing.

A pop-up neighbourhood coffee event, with some free samples. Jungkook didn’t even know how Taehyung had found it.

He had even worn his casual hat and everything, one of the baggier ones that shaded half his face and made him look like a mildly famous barista, at best. Bam had barked at it that morning. He should’ve taken that as a sign.

Instead, there he was. Holding Taehyung’s hand.

Well, kind of holding. Their pinkies kept brushing as they wandered through the little weekend pop-up in the park: local vendors, live music, dogs everywhere. It was cute. Relaxing. They hadn’t really defined what this was, but it felt like a date.

“I thought we could be normal,” Taehyung had said. “Like… just walk around and hold drinks and pretend we’re boring.”

Taehyung had called it “a hangout,” then offered Jungkook half his matcha waffle.

So yeah. A date.

Jungkook had agreed because:

A) he couldn’t say no to Taehyung,

B) he liked holding drinks,

and C) he had no idea what they were yet, but he knew it felt good to be near him.

They had stopped at the espresso cart because Taehyung claimed Jungkook needed to "consume more joy" and "stop looking like a sleep-deprived cat," and Jungkook had only just gotten through half his iced americano before the trouble started.

The trouble, in this case, was a barista in a beige apron who nearly launched herself over the mobile espresso bar when Jungkook walked up.

“Oh my god,” she gasped, eyes wide. “Are you—”

“No,” Jungkook said on instinct.

“You look exactly like—”

“Definitely not.”

“But your tattoos—”

“Coincidence.”

“Your voice—”

“I just have one of those faces.”

She giggled. Giggled. And it wasn’t like Jungkook hadn’t dealt with this before, but there was something extra mortifying about having it happen with Taehyung standing right there, sipping a lavender latte and pretending to browse scones.

Barista Girl leaned forward across the cart.

“Excuse me,” she said, all doe eyes now, “but like, if you are who I think you are... would it be totally weird if I gave you my number?”

Jungkook’s blood went cold. “Um—”

“If I give you an extra stamp, will you tell me your favourite coffee order?”

And that was when Taehyung stepped up beside him, casually slid into place beside Jungkook. Leaned in. Smiled. And dropped it with all the subtlety of a hand grenade:

“He’s my alpha.”

Silence.

Absolute, nuclear-grade silence.

The barista blinked. Jungkook forgot how lungs worked.

Taehyung just sipped his latte again like he hadn’t just declared ownership in the middle of a sunlit park full of boomers and golden retrievers.

Jungkook was pretty sure his brain blue-screened. “Sorry,” he added lightly. “You know how it is.”

The barista retreated with a flustered laugh and something about "enjoy your day." Jungkook just stared straight ahead, heat crawling up his neck, heart doing an Olympic sprint in his chest.

Taehyung sipped from his cup and finally glanced at him.

“…What?”

Jungkook turned slowly. “I’m your what?”

Taehyung’s ears went red immediately. “Okay—contextually, that was for defensive purposes. You were being hunted.”

“Hunted?”

“Targeted. Eyed. Eyeballed.”

“She offered me a stamp card.”

“Exactly. That’s how it starts.”

Jungkook stared at him for a long, silent moment.

“You just told a stranger I’m your alpha.”

“Well, I panicked.”

“You panicked?”

“She was flirting with you,” Taehyung shrugged. “I had to establish the vibe.”

Jungkook turned to face him fully. “So you just… blurted that out?”

“Worked, didn’t it?”

Jungkook made a noise. It wasn’t a word. Just a guttural string of vowels that meant you are going to kill me with this behaviour.

“You’re insane,” he whispered.

Taehyung grinned. “You like it.”

They walked in silence for a minute.

A golden retriever walked by wearing Crocs. Jungkook’s heart was still doing double time. He couldn’t stop thinking about what Taehyung had said. My alpha.

It was dumb. Casual. Meant nothing.

But it didn’t feel like nothing.

And when Jungkook glanced over at him—hair catching the light, lips pink from his drink, scent curling warm in the breeze, he realised something terrifying:

He didn’t want it to be nothing.

Then, because he had absolutely no grip on his mouth lately, he said:

“…So... I’m your alpha now?”

Taehyung froze with the cup halfway to his lips. “I mean—” He cleared his throat. “Only if you want to be.”

Jungkook blinked. “Do you?”

“Are you kidding?” Taehyung said, stepping closer, voice dropping into that warm, berry-sweet register that made Jungkook’s spine curl. “I’ve been trying to make you bite me for three weeks.”

Jungkook blinked rapidly. “What the fuck—”

“Metaphorically,” Taehyung clarified. Then paused. “Mostly.”

Jungkook almost choked on air.

Taehyung leaned in just a little, smug as hell.

“You think I made you smoothies and stole your mug for fun?”

Jungkook said nothing. He couldn’t. His brain had left the building.

But he did take the cup back. Held it tight. Breathed it in.

Smelled like lavender, berries, and something he was starting to think smelled like home.

“…Okay,” he said softly.

Taehyung tilted his head. “Okay?”

Jungkook nodded once. “Yeah. I’ll be your alpha.”

And then, grinning like a fool, he reached out and pulled Taehyung into a kiss, so quick, so full of breathless laughter, it barely counted.

But it counted enough.

When they broke apart, Taehyung was smiling like sunshine. “Finally.”

🍓

Jungkook wasn’t supposed to be here.

It was just a brand event, small, chill, five minutes of walking the carpet, posing for the collab he agreed to six months ago when his life was simpler and his heart was unclaimed.

He wasn’t even doing interviews. His manager said he didn’t have to. "Just wave, smile, walk. Don’t cause headlines."

Which would’ve been fine.

If the internet hadn’t decided to explode that morning.

It started with a blurry photo.

Taehyung, hoodie up, walking next to Jungkook with a smoothie in one hand and Bam’s leash in the other. The caption?

“Who is this mystery omega seen with Jeon Jungkook”

Then someone found the smoothie cup in Taehyung’s story and matched it to Jungkook’s.

Then came the enhanced image of them holding hands.

And now, as Jungkook walked the carpet, flashes blinding, all he heard is:

“Jungkook! Jungkook, is it true?!”

“Are you dating him?”

“Is he your omega?”

“Does Bam approve?!”

Jungkook’s brain had short-circuited. He had glanced over. Taehyung wasn’t there. He was at home, probably laughing at memes. Jungkook should’ve just kept walking. Ignored it.

Instead, because the universe hated him, someone yelled:

“Is the berry omega your mate?!”

And Jungkook—

Well.

He panicked.

“Yes.”

Silence.

A click. A dozen flashes.

And then: screaming.

🍓

His manager was yelling. His publicist was texting in all caps. Somewhere in the distance, a fan fainted. Jungkook got into the van, slammed the door shut, and let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a scream.

He grabbed his phone. Saw Taehyung was already texting.

Taehyung [5:45 PM]

YOU SAID YES???

TO THE PUBLIC???

Jungkook slammed his head gently against the headrest.

Jungkook [5:45 PM]

IT SLIPPED OUT.

I PANICKED.

I’M SORRY—

His phone rang.

He answered on instinct.

Taehyung’s voice was soft. Smiling. “You said yes.”

Jungkook closed his eyes. “I’m sorry if that made things complicated.”

“Complicated?” Taehyung laughed. “Jungkook. You just confirmed me to the entire country.”

“I know,” Jungkook groaned. “I swear I didn’t plan it—”

“I know you didn’t.”

There was a pause.

Then, quietly:

“But I’m glad you did.”

Jungkook’s heart stumbled.

“…You are?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung said. “Because now I don’t have to pretend I’m not yours.”

Jungkook melted into the van seat.

🍓

He had barely made it through the front door before Bam barreled into him, tail wagging like he’d just watched the livestream of Jungkook’s entire life unravel on camera.

“Hey, traitor,” Jungkook mumbled, scratching behind his ears. “Guess who outed himself to the nation because he can’t function under pressure?”

Bam whined and licked his palm. Valid.

Jungkook kicked off his shoes and walked inside, expecting silence. Maybe a note from Taehyung. Maybe a half-eaten smoothie.

Instead, he found him on the couch. Taehyung. Cross-legged. Hoodie on. Holding Jungkook’s mug, the mug, now permanently claimed, and sipping tea like it was a royal ceremony.

Jungkook stared. “How’d you get in here?”

“You gave me the code, remember?” Taehyung said, like that was a perfectly normal decision and not a turning point in Jungkook’s personal downfall.

He walked in slowly, like he was approaching a wild animal, which was ironic, because the wild animal was Taehyung.

“You saw the press, huh?”

Taehyung sipped calmly. “Oh, you mean when you said ‘yes’ to being my alpha in front of everyone with a Twitter account?”

Jungkook groaned and dropped onto the couch beside him. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You said it, though.”

“I panicked!”

“You panicked honestly.”

He could feel Taehyung smiling even without looking.

“I just—” Jungkook raked a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t planning on going public today.”

“You weren’t planning on denying it, either.”

Pause. Jungkook glanced at him.

Taehyung was smiling, eyes soft and unguarded.

“You really don’t mind?” he asked quietly.

Taehyung set down the mug. Shifted closer. “Jungkook, I love it.”

And Jungkook… melted.

Everything unclenched. The pressure he’d been carrying, the spiral of what does this mean, the panic of letting the world know, it all dissolved in the heat of Taehyung’s presence and the stupid way he smelled like happiness and sugar and Jungkook’s.

“God,” Jungkook muttered, leaning back. “You’re dangerous.”

“You’re the one who outed us during a sponsored event.”

“I blacked out.”

“You publicly claimed me.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don't”

Jungkook froze. Blinked. Stared.

Taehyung tilted his head, smiling like a secret. “You don't, right?”

Jungkook swallowed.

And then, so quietly he almost didn’t hear it himself:

“No. I don't.”

Taehyung leaned in, pressing their foreheads together. His scent washed over Jungkook, warm berries, soft musk, comfort, and he let it in, let himself sink into it.

And when Taehyung pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, light, lingering, his, Jungkook wrapped an arm around his waist and held him close.

Not just because the cameras had seen them.

But because now… he wanted everyone to know.

🍓

Taehyung kissed like he knew what Jungkook had done.

Not just the press thing, everything.

Like he knew Jungkook had spent the whole day spiralling with his name in his throat. Like he knew the scent Jungkook had been carrying around like a drug. Like he knew exactly what Jungkook had been wanting to do since the moment he heard:

“He’s my alpha.”

The kiss had started soft. Curious. Familiar. But then Taehyung’s fingers curled in Jungkook’s hoodie, and he pulled, and that was when everything tilted.

Jungkook grabbed his hips before he could shift away. Taehyung just hummed against his lips and settled into his lap like it was nothing. Like he belonged there. Like this was inevitable.

“Okay,” he murmured, lips brushing Jungkook’s jaw. “I’m ready now.”

Jungkook blinked. “For what?”

“To be ruined.”

Jungkook choked. “Tae—”

“You said yes,” Taehyung reminded him, breath hot against his cheek. “To the world. Say it to me.”

He dragged his teeth over Jungkook’s jawline, smug and slow, until Jungkook’s hips bucked up instinctively.

Taehyung smirked. “Say it.”

Jungkook swore under his breath. “I’m your alpha.”

“Again.”

Jungkook grabbed his face, leaned in, and growled against his lips, “I’m your alpha.”

Taehyung sighed like he’d been waiting his whole life for that.

🍓

Taehyung was already flushed when they hit the mattress, mouth kiss-bitten, thighs parted. His scent was everywhere, sweet berries and want, thick in the air, sticking to Jungkook’s skin like it was inside him too.

Jungkook felt wired. Possessive. A little desperate.

“You still want this?” he asked, voice low, eyes scanning every inch of him.

Taehyung’s breath stuttered. “I’ve wanted this since you said I could pet your dog.”

Jungkook groaned. “You’re gonna pay for that.”

“Promise?”

His hands moved on instinct, palming up Taehyung’s thighs, pushing them open. He leaned in, nosed at the inside of one, and nipped gently until Taehyung squirmed.

“Scent’s spiking,” Jungkook murmured. “Your body already knows.”

Taehyung arched. “Then do something about it.”

Jungkook licked into his mouth as he slicked up his fingers, moaning when Taehyung’s scent pulsed sharper. His whole body responded to Jungkook, hips rocking, back arching, eyes fluttering every time he breathed out Alpha.

“Relax,” Jungkook whispered, sliding one hand down to part his cheeks. “Gonna take care of you.”

He pressed a finger in slowly—one at first—curling just enough to tease. Taehyung gasped, hips twitching.

“Slick already?” Jungkook grinned, rubbing small circles inside. “You’re so ready for me, baby.”

Taehyung’s voice was wrecked. “More.”

Jungkook gave him two, sliding in deep, watching his body stretch open so prettily for him. The slick got louder, wet and obscene, coating Jungkook’s knuckles as he fucked his fingers in slow, rhythmic thrusts.

Taehyung moaned, head tipping back.

“Look at you,” Jungkook growled. “You’re dripping.”

“Need you—” Taehyung’s breath hitched. “Need your cock, please—”

Jungkook pulled his fingers out slowly and watched Taehyung whine at the loss. He stroked himself once, twice, dragging the head through the mess between Taehyung’s thighs.

Then, without another word, he lined up and pushed in.

Taehyung cried out, hands scrambling for Jungkook’s shoulders.

“Fuck—so big—”

“Shh,” Jungkook panted, easing in deeper. “Almost there.”

It was hot. Tight. Perfect. His omega took him like he was made for it, body giving, slick welcoming every inch.

When he bottomed out, they both stopped.

Their foreheads pressed together. Chests heaving.

Jungkook swore. “You feel like home.”

Taehyung let out a broken sound. “Move. Please.”

He did. He fucked him, slow and deep at first, savoring the way Taehyung’s walls fluttered around him, how his moans went breathy when Jungkook angled just right.

But it didn’t stay gentle for long.

Jungkook gripped his hips and thrust harder, slick squelching between them, Taehyung’s breath catching with every grind.

“I’m gonna mark you,” Jungkook growled against his neck. “Gonna knot you so you can’t forget who you belong to.”

Taehyung shuddered. “Yes—yes, please, do it—”

And then, when Jungkook felt his knot start to swell, pressure mounting in his spine, he bit.

Sharp. Right over his scent gland.

Taehyung screamed, back arching, whole body locking as the bond snapped into place, scent bursting, heart pounding.

Jungkook ground in deep and knotted him, the stretch making Taehyung twitch and gasp, wrecked beneath him, clinging to his shoulders.

Their scents bloomed around them, now tangled and sealed.

Jungkook didn’t stop until Taehyung came, crying out against his shoulder, body trembling as he milked Jungkook’s knot. He kissed him through it, rough and slow and full of everything.

When they finally stopped moving, Jungkook stayed buried in him. Mark sank into skin. Knot locked. Scent thick around them.

Taehyung turned his head and whispered, “Now everyone knows.”

Jungkook brushed his hair back, pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Good,” he breathed. “Let them.”

🍓

It was too early to be awake.

The curtains were cracked open just enough to let in a streak of soft morning light, warm against the tangle of sheets and skin and scent. Jungkook blinked blearily, arm flopped across the bare curve of Taehyung’s waist.

And for a second, it felt like a dream.

Then he smelled it. Berries. Sweet and sharp. Blended with the lingering edge of his own scent, stormy, heavy, faintly electric.

And the ache in his jaw reminded him, Oh yeah. He had bitten him.

He’d fucking marked him. Claimed him. Knotted him. Let the world know he was off the market and then let Taehyung know with every thrust, every kiss, every whispered mine.

And now said Omega was… snoring.

Lightly.

Jungkook smiled into the pillow, nose buried in Taehyung’s hair. He shifted a little, only to realise their legs were still tangled, and Taehyung’s entire thigh was thrown over him like a possessive seatbelt.

And under Jungkook’s hand, right over his gland, was the mark.

Red. Healing. Claimed.

His heart stuttered.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the skin just below it. Taehyung shifted in his sleep and made a tiny, contented noise.

“Hyung,” Jungkook murmured, smiling. “You’re mine now.”

Taehyung’s eyes stayed closed, but a grin stretched across his face. “Mmm… was yours the moment you let me pet your dog.”

Jungkook groaned and hid in his neck. “I knew you were trouble.”

“You love it.”

“I really, really do.”

They stayed like that for a long time. Wrapped up in each other. Scent-drunk and sticky and so warm, Jungkook thought he could die there and be fine with it.

Eventually, Taehyung rolled over, stealing half the blanket and all of Jungkook’s oxygen by curling into his chest.

And then, because of course, he sniffed.

“Smell different,” he mumbled, eyes still closed.

“Because I’m covered in you,” Jungkook muttered, nose squished against his hair. “We’re bonded now, remember?”

Taehyung hummed, pleased. “Like the way that sounds.”

Jungkook swallowed. His fingers traced slow circles against the small of Taehyung’s back. “How do you feel?”

“Claimed. Full. Sore.”

Jungkook’s cheeks went pink.

Taehyung smirked without opening his eyes. “You’re cute when you blush.”

“You’re evil.”

“You’re mine.”

“Damn right I am.”

🍓

Jungkook was barely conscious when the knock came.

He froze halfway to the kitchen, hoodie hanging low over his thighs, because that was all he was wearing, and blinked like maybe the door would go away if he stared hard enough.

It knocked again. Louder.

From the bedroom, Taehyung groaned and rolled over, voice hoarse from the absolute war crimes they had committed on each other the night before. “Don’t answer it.”

“I wasn’t going to!” Jungkook hissed, whisper-screaming. “Who the hell just shows up without texting?!”

And then—

His phone buzzed on the counter.

One new message: “Open up. We brought coffee.”

“Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck.”

It was Yoongi. Which meant—

The door opened right as Jungkook started running back down the hallway, bare thighs flashing under the hem of his hoodie.

And standing there, wearing matching expressions of judgment and mild horror, were: Min Yoongi, sunglasses on indoors, holding a tray of americanos. And Park Jimin, blinking slowly as he took one deep breath—

—and froze.

His nose twitched. His whole face transformed.

“Oh my god,” he said.

Jungkook turned fully red.

Taehyung, still shirtless and unbothered, appeared behind him in Jungkook’s boxer briefs like they belonged to him now. He leaned against the wall and yawned.

“Morning,” he said sweetly. “You guys want pancakes?”

Yoongi walked past them like he’d seen worse. He probably had. “Not from this kitchen, no.”

Jimin was still staring. “Did you two—”

Taehyung nodded. “Yup.”

“Last night?”

“Loudly.”

“Here?”

“Everywhere.”

Jungkook was actively dying.

“I hate all of you,” he mumbled, tugging the hoodie down in front. It wasn’t helping.

Yoongi sipped his coffee. “Congrats on the mating, by the way.”

Jungkook covered his face.

🍓

They all ended up sitting around the table like this was normal.

Taehyung was thriving, perched in Jungkook’s lap with his freshly marked neck proudly on display. Jimin wouldn’t stop staring at it.

“I knew it,” he said, sipping his coffee like it was wine. “You’ve been scenting things for days.”

“Shut up,” Jungkook groaned.

“Does this mean I’m getting a new alpha-in-law?” Jimin beamed.

Yoongi finally took off his sunglasses. “Don’t you have work today?”

“Don’t you have a soul?”

Jungkook slammed his forehead to the table.

Taehyung just petted his hair. “You’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

🍓

It had started with Jimin grabbing Taehyung by the wrist and saying:

“Come here. We’re going to have an Omega-to-Omega debrief. Jungkook, don’t follow.”

Jungkook blinked, holding his coffee. “I wasn’t going to.”

Jimin raised an eyebrow. “You always do.”

Taehyung patted his arm. “Stay, puppy. I’ll come back for you.”

And then they were gone, disappearing down the hall and into Jungkook’s guest bedroom like a mission had just been launched. The door clicked shut behind them.

Jungkook told himself to let it go. To give them space.

...

Five minutes later, he was crouching outside the door, hoodie pulled over his head, ears straining.

He wasn’t proud. But in his defence, they were talking about him.

Inside, Jimin sighed. “So. You’re mated now.”

“Apparently,” Taehyung hummed.

“And you’re okay? No panic? No ‘oops we went too far’ regrets?”

Taehyung was quiet for a beat.

Then: “None. Not even a little.”

Jungkook’s heart stuttered.

Jimin sounded smug. “I knew it.”

“I think I was always going to be his. You know?” Taehyung said. “I just needed him to catch up.”

Jungkook’s brain fully blue-screened.

He was still processing ‘I was always going to be his’ when a paper cup of coffee appeared beside his head.

“Eavesdropping on Omegas is bad form,” Yoongi muttered.

Jungkook jumped. “Hyung—!”

“Relax,” Yoongi said, settling on the floor next to him. “I once slept under Jimin’s couch for three hours to hear a conversation he was too nervous to tell me about.”

Jungkook stared. “That’s... unhinged.”

Yoongi sipped. “I needed to know.”

“…Fair.”

They sat in silence for a moment, backs against the wall, coffee between them.

Jungkook looked down. “I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing. I want to protect him, but I also want to... keep him here. All the time. Wrap him in my hoodie and never let him leave.”

Yoongi hummed. “Sounds about right.”

“I’m not—” Jungkook hesitated. “I’m not exactly Alpha material.”

“Who told you that?”

“I don’t know. Me.”

Yoongi turned to look at him. “Jungkook. You claimed him. He let you. That’s all that matters. The rest? You learn.”

Jungkook swallowed.

Yoongi added, “Also, stop leaving your knot out like it’s a casual Tuesday. That Omega’s not walking straight, and Jimin has eyes.”

“Hyung—!”

Yoongi stood, smirking. “Welcome to the club.”

🍓

He should’ve known it was a trap.

When Taehyung had walked out of the bedroom wearing skinny jeans and one of Jungkook’s oversized flannels, hair still damp from the shower, mating mark very visible on his neck, he’d smiled and said:

“Let’s go buy fruit.”

Jungkook, who was still brain-damaged from the events of the last 24 hours, had nodded like an idiot.

Now they’re standing in the middle of the produce aisle at the most popular grocery store in Seoul , and Jungkook is having a full-blown alpha crisis.

There were cameras. There were people looking. There was Taehyung holding his hand like it was not the most insane thing that had ever happened to Jungkook in public.

“Do you want peaches?” Taehyung asked, completely unbothered, lifting one and sniffing it. “These smell like Jimin.”

Jungkook, hood up, mask on, eyes darting to every reflective surface, muttered, “You said this place wasn’t crowded.”

“I said I was craving fruit.”

“This is not the same thing. ”

Taehyung lifted another peach and gently rolled it across Jungkook’s arm. “Are you freaking out?”

“No,” Jungkook lied. “Yes. Absolutely. I can’t be seen holding hands with my newly mated Omega while unconfirmed dating rumours are trending and the last photo of me online is me flipping off a reporter.”

Taehyung hummed. “So dramatic.”

“I am dramatic,” Jungkook whispered. “I write songs about crying in the rain.”

The worst part was... it was not even bad.

It was just too much.

Taehyung was warm and solid next to him, scent brushing against his cheek every time they leaned too close, fingers laced like they had done this a million times.

And the stares? They didn’t feel mean. More like curious. Surprised. Intrigued.

A couple fans even look delighted, one gasping softly as they passed.

Jungkook kept expecting someone to yell, “HE KNOTTED HIM,” but no one did.

Instead, Taehyung squeezed his hand and said, “Berries or apples?”

“I’m dying.”

“Apples it is.”

Later, back at home, Jungkook stared at his phone while Taehyung ate a peach over the sink.

“ It’s already trending, ” Jungkook said, tone faint.

“Which part?”

He held up the screen. #JungkookAndMysteryOmega. Below it, blurry photos of them holding hands, Jungkook’s tattooed fingers visible, Taehyung’s soft Omega glow unmistakable.

“Oh,” Taehyung said, and then shrugged. “Cute.”

“ Cute? ”

“Would’ve been cuter if you kissed me.”

Jungkook looked up, horrified. “We are not feeding the rumours.”

Taehyung bit into the peach and grinned. “You fed me a grape in the middle of aisle four.”

“TAEHYUNG—”

🍓

Jungkook didn’t know exactly when it had started.

Maybe at home, when Taehyung had brushed his cheek against Jungkook’s shoulder in passing and let out the softest little sigh, like the contact alone had reset his nervous system.

Or maybe on the car ride, when he had leaned across the console just to rest his head on Jungkook’s bicep.

Either way, by the time they walked into the quiet café where they were meeting Jimin and Yoongi, Taehyung was fully in clingy omega mode.

It wasn’t even subtle. He was pressed against Jungkook’s side, fingers hooked in the hem of his shirt, scent practically radiating berries with every step.

His eyes were heavy-lidded, the tips of his ears flushed pink, and his entire body language screamed mine. mine. mine.

Jungkook? Was barely functioning.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, setting down the drinks.

Taehyung nodded sleepily and then, without asking, climbed into Jungkook’s lap.

Like. Just. Sat.

Right there. In a public café. In front of glass windows.

In broad daylight.

With his scent gland nestled against Jungkook’s neck and a tiny purr rumbling in his chest.

Jungkook blacked out for a second.

Across the table, Jimin took one look and said, “Yup.”

Yoongi didn’t even blink. “Called it.”

Taehyung shifted in Jungkook’s lap, stretching like a sleepy cat. “Mmm. Smell good.”

“You’re gonna get us kicked out,” Jungkook hissed, entire body rigid with effort.

“Should’ve thought about that before you bit me,” Taehyung mumbled into his neck.

Jungkook whimpered.

Jimin sipped his drink like it was the best television he’d seen in weeks.

“Didn’t realise you two were already hitting that stage of bonding,” he said.

“What stage?” Jungkook asked, voice high-pitched.

“The scent-drunk, lap-claimed, one-wrong-word-and-he'll-bite-you stage,” Jimin said casually. “It’s adorable. And terrifying.”

Jungkook turned to Yoongi, wide-eyed, silently pleading.

Yoongi shrugged. “Let him scent you. He’ll calm down.”

Jungkook turned back to Taehyung. “Baby—”

“I am calm.”

He said it while licking a stripe up Jungkook’s neck.

Jimin pulled out his phone and typed something. Jungkook’s own phone buzzed in his pocket.

Jimin [10:31 AM]

he’s nesting in your lap rn. enjoy that. 

also you’re totally blushing don’t even deny it.

Jungkook sighed. “I hate you.”

Jimin grinned. “No you don’t. You’re in love.”

🍓

Jungkook hadn’t been looking for it.

He had just been trying to find his charger. That was it. That was the only reason he opened the linen closet in the guest room, the one Taehyung had told him “not to worry about” the other day, which, of course, had made Jungkook immediately worry about it.

He opened the door—

—and stopped breathing.

There was a nest.

Not just a pile of blankets. Not just a cute little mess. A real nest.

Soft and thick and layered. Piled high with his hoodies, his shirts, even his sweatpants, the black ones with the drawstrings that Taehyung always stole. In the centre, there was a pillowcase that smelled aggressively like his Alpha scent, like it had been slept on and cuddled for days.

Taehyung’s Omega scent clung to every inch of it. Berries and safety and low, humming affection. The room felt like it had been claimed.

Jungkook stood there, heart racing, completely undone.

He hadn’t known Taehyung was nesting. He hadn’t known he was allowed to see it.

“Jungkookie?”

Taehyung’s voice came from behind him, light and lazy.

Jungkook jumped a little and turned, awkward, red-faced, like he’d been caught going through someone’s diary.

Taehyung peeked over his shoulder and just… smiled. Soft. Unbothered. Maybe even a little proud.

“Oh,” he said. “You found it.”

Jungkook opened his mouth. No words came out.

“I built it a few days ago,” Taehyung added. “Before the mating, actually.”

Jungkook choked. “Before?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Taehyung shrugged. “Your scent calms me down. Figured this would help.”

Jungkook made a noise that might have been a whimper.

Taehyung walked past him and sat at the edge of the nest, sinking in like it was his throne.

“You can come in, you know,” he said, tugging on Jungkook’s sleeve. “I wouldn’t use your clothes if I didn’t want your Alpha in here with me.”

Jungkook’s heart actually stuttered.

“I didn’t know you…” He started, then trailed off, helpless.

Taehyung patted the space beside him. “Help me fluff the hoodies.”

He didn’t even remember sitting down. He was just suddenly in the nest, surrounded by the scent of his own clothing and Taehyung’s warmth.

Taehyung curled against his chest, sleepy and glowing, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I feel safe here,” he murmured.

Jungkook closed his eyes. “Me too.”

🍓

It happened at the worst possible time: when Jungkook’s guard was down.

They were in a bookstore. Taehyung had been talking about building his little poetry corner (aka “The Berry Shrine”), and Jungkook was helping him pick something “a little sad and a little sexy, like me.”

Jungkook was smiling, fond and stupid and maybe a little obsessed, when it happened.

The guy at the register, tall, too much cologne, definitely human, had leaned in as Taehyung was paying and said:

“Cool jacket. Looks good on you.”

That was it. That was the whole crime.

Taehyung just blinked, caught off guard, before smiling politely and mumbling a soft, “Oh. Thanks.”

Jungkook?

Short-circuited.

It started in his spine, like something ancient and primal stretched its claws and sat up.

His scent spiked before he even realised it, heavy and sharp, rain-slick and electric. A territorial Alpha warning. The kind you didn’t hear. The kind you felt.

The guy looked up. Paused. Sweated.

Jungkook didn’t move. Dind't blink. Just watched.

Taehyung, sensing it instantly, slowly turned around and raised one perfectly arched brow.

“Babe,” he said. Calm. Teasing. “Down, boy.”

Jungkook’s jaw flexed.

“I said thank you,” Taehyung added, brushing his hand against Jungkook’s waist. “I didn’t ask him to scent me.”

The words sent a whole new wave of scent into the air, subtle, but unmistakable: mine.

The cashier pretended to have a phone call and disappeared into the back.

Outside, Taehyung giggled.

“I think you traumatised that man.”

“He flirted with you.”

“He said I had a nice jacket.”

“Which is my jacket.”

Taehyung hummed, pleased. “So protective.”

“I wasn’t even trying to be,” Jungkook muttered. “It just—happened.”

“You gonna growl at the waiter next time he compliments my smile?”

“…Maybe.”

Taehyung leaned in, grin wide. “Hot.”

Later, at home, Jungkook got a message from Yoongi:

yoongi hyung [4:44 PM]

taehyung told jimin what happened. jimin told me. i’m dying. you scented a whole bookstore.

you’re so whipped.

🍓

It was the middle of the afternoon, and Taehyung was eating a bagel like it had wronged him in a past life.

There was cream cheese on his nose. He didn’t know. Jungkook wasn’t going to tell him.

Instead, he leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping his iced americano, watching the chaos unfold.

Taehyung finally paused mid-rant about his misplaced art supplies, eyes shining, cheeks flushed, and turned to him.

“What?”

“You’ve got—” Jungkook gestured vaguely. “A little something.”

“Where?”

“There.”

Taehyung swiped at his cheek. Missed entirely.

“Here?”

Jungkook bit back his smile. “Nope. Still there.”

“You’re being annoying,” Taehyung huffed.

Jungkook shrugged. “You’re being adorable.”

And before he could stop himself, before his brain had a chance to catch up to his mouth—

“God, I love you.”

Silence.

A beat.

Taehyung stilled, hand frozen mid-air.

“You what?”

Jungkook’s soul briefly left his body.

“I—uh—said—” he tried to backpedal, “I love—bagels?”

Taehyung set down the bagel.

Stepped forward.

“Say it again.”

Jungkook swallowed. “I… love you?”

Taehyung smiled. Bright and wide and a little wobbly around the edges.

“I love you, too.”

Then he threw his arms around Jungkook’s neck and tackled him into a hug, cream cheese and all.

“You have stuff on your nose,” Jungkook murmured into his hair.

“You have stuff in your heart,” Taehyung mumbled back.

🍓

The lights went down, and the stadium fell silent.

Jungkook took his place at the centre of the stage, mic in hand, breath caught halfway in his throat. This wasn’t just another song. This wasn’t just another crowd.

It was his first performance since the rumours. Since the mating mark. Since the world had caught a glimpse of his omega, flushed cheeks, berry scent, fingers laced in his own in a grocery aisle that now felt like a turning point in his entire life.

He hadn’t said anything. Not online. Not in interviews.

He hadn’t needed to.

Not when this song existed.

The track began, low, slow, aching piano chords and the distant echo of rain. The screen behind him flickered with soft imagery: a dim hallway, a door slightly ajar, a silhouette walking toward the light.

And then he sang.

“Summer has already spread in the air. Breeze is already blowing.

The last cold snap is going out”

The crowd exhaled like a wave. He didn’t look at them.

He looked at the front row.

Right side of the stage. Second from the left. Where Taehyung was standing.

Curly hair, hands folded, dressed in that soft lavender shirt that made his eyes glow like moonlight. The shirt Jungkook had worn once, before it had disappeared into the nest.

Jungkook swore he could smell him from here.

Warm. Familiar. Home.

“The days were getting longer and longer

But my days were still going on, and on, and on.”

It wasn’t subtle.

He didn’t say his name.

He just stared, eyes locked, voice steady, as the lyrics unravelled everything he had never said out loud. About love. About safety. About wanting to be claimed.

And Taehyung just stood there. Watching. Soft smile on his face. A tear clinging to his lashes like he had been waiting for this song.

By the final chorus, the crowd was singing too, arms raised, phones swaying, but Jungkook heard none of it.

Only the sound of Taehyung’s quiet breath. Only the look in his eyes that said yes. I know. I feel it too.

“All these lights are colored in by you

All these times are precious due to you”

When the lights dimmed again, Jungkook bowed once, breathless.

And then he stepped off stage with his heart wide open

🍓

The ceremony was beautiful.

Jimin wore soft pink silk, his scent blooming like spring fruit in the air, cheeks glowing with joy. Yoongi looked like death warmed over, because he hated events, but he held Jimin’s hand like it was the only thing tethering him to earth.

And Taehyung?

Taehyung was on Jungkook’s lap. Again.

They were seated in the front row, barely keeping their hands to themselves. Not in a gross way, not in a disrespectful way, just in a we’re-mated-and-will-literally-die-if-we-don’t-touch-every-five-minutes kind of way.

Taehyung’s fingers traced invisible shapes over Jungkook’s knee. His scent was stronger than usual, happy, settled, smug.

Jungkook wore a black button-up, the top few undone to reveal the small tattoo next to his mating mark: a stylised berry vine that curled behind his ear. Tae’s idea.

Taehyung had a matching one just above his heart. Jungkook’s idea.

The vows began. Jimin teared up. Yoongi stared at him like he’d hung the damn stars.

And Jungkook?

Jungkook leaned in and whispered, “That’s gonna be us next.”

Taehyung turned his head, blinking slowly. “Are you proposing?”

“Maybe.”

“Now?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Is there a rule that says I can’t?”

Taehyung beamed, eyes bright. “Then I accept.”

Across the aisle, Jin sobbed into Namjoon’s shoulder. Hoseok fanned himself. Yoongi sighed loudly.

After the ceremony, there was food. Dancing. Chaos.

Yoongi and Jimin slow-danced like they’d done it a hundred times. Jin threw the bouquet, and Hoseok caught it like a linebacker. Namjoon made a toast. Jimin threw back three glasses of champagne and climbed onto a table to sing karaoke.

And Taehyung?

He pulled Jungkook onto the floor and swayed with him under fairy lights, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“You look happy,” he said.

“I am,” Jungkook whispered back. “You made me brave.”

Taehyung kissed him. The crowd cheered. Yoongi threatened to leave.

They went home that night and fell asleep tangled in their nest, scent-warm and safe, dreams curling around each other like vines.