His Baby Daddy [ Taekook ]

chapter 11

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...

Heat had always left Jungkook drained, but the aftermath of this one felt different—darker, heavier. Three months had crawled by since Taehyung walked out of Yoongi’s house, and every corner of Jungkook’s home now echoed with lonely silence.

Lixue, his wolf, no longer spoke. The once‑steady thrum of pack‑bond reassurance had dulled to a hollow buzz, like a radio tuned to a dead station. Rejection had severed their thread to Taehyung; in the fallout, Lixue had withdrawn deep into Jungkook’s psyche and refused every plea to surface.

What remained was ache: bones humming with fatigue, a nausea that coiled low in his gut every dawn, and a dizziness that painted black dots over his vision if he stood too fast. He told himself it was only residual “heat sickness.” He’d heard elder omegas speak of it, though never this severe.

...

After the disastrous confrontation, Jungkook had sent polite but firm texts to Yoongi, Jimin, and even Ami: Need space. Heat symptoms lingering. Safe, I promise.

None of them liked it, but they respected it. Jimin dropped home‑cooked soup outside the door each evening. Yoongi arranged a rota of pack warriors to patrol the street discreetly. Seokjin, being a witch‑doctor and thus immune to the pheromones, had special permission to enter—but even he came only when Jungkook finally responded to his persistent knocks.

Yet despite the tonics Seokjin brewed—iced jasmine elixir for nausea, a mint‑rosemary compress for fever—the malaise clung to him like a second skin.

...

Three moons had passed, and the morning broke gray and hollow, soaked in the quiet ache of time lost." Jungkook cracked an eye to the faint light seeping past curtains. His stomach churned. The scent of cold oatmeal on the nightstand, untouched from last night, turned his insides.

He forced himself upright. Enough. He couldn’t stay in bed forever. JeongEun and JeongGwon—ten years old, hearts too big for their small bodies—needed breakfast. They’d been saints all week, slipping notes under the door: Hyung, we made ramen, please eat. Hyung, JeongEun drew you a bunny.

He owed them a smile, even if it shook.

Swinging his legs over the mattress, his bare feet touched the wooden floor—and the world tilted. Vertigo punched him. He tried to steady himself on the bedpost, but darkness tunneled his vision.