outside in

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at [Link]

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Relationship: Jeon Wonwoo/Kim Mingyu
Character: Kim Mingyu (SEVENTEEN), Jeon Wonwoo
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics,
Alpha Kim Mingyu (SEVENTEEN), Come Eating, a lot of it lol, Bitching,
Omega Jeon Wonwoo, Enemies to Lovers, Friends With Benefits, can
you tell that this is just a riff on the other fic that got about 8k words out
of hand?, but the circumstances are different i promise, POV Outsider,
this is such a fun concept to me i hope you like it too, everything goes
right, Nothing Hurts
Language: English
Series: Part 2 of this anon's minwon fest
Collections: Anonymous
Stats: Published: 2023-08-21 Words: 8,929 Chapters: 1/1

outside in
by Anonymous

Summary

Jeon Wonwoo, computer science student representative and aspiring omega, gets bitched
by alpha hockey captain and campus heart-throb Kim Mingyu.

Notes

this is entirely self-indulgent. welcome to my psyche

tw: there are some allusions to gender dysphoria in the context of wonwoo wanting to make
the beta/omega switch, but there's no negative discussion of it and everything works out :)

See the end of the work for more notes

prelude: freshman year

Wonwoo starts wearing the patches before he even meets Mingyu.

–

“Hey, look.”

Wonwoo’s sitting in his first-year math class. The room feels slow to fill up today, and he blames it
on the shitty weather and the inevitable drag of Wednesday afternoons. Jihoon isn’t here yet,
which is rare. Usually he’s the one saving Wonwoo a seat but today the mantle has fallen upon
Wonwoo’s shoulders, so he puts his backpack in the chair beside him and resolves not to feel bad
about it. He even puts his earphones in just to completely abolish the chances of anyone asking if
the seat is free, but he’s too anxious to play any music just in case someone really does start talking
to him.

“Look,” the voice behind him says again, somewhat hushed. It’s a girl’s voice, and Wonwoo
wouldn’t be able to put a name to it even if he turned around and saw her face. This lecture is full
of students from all different STEM programs and Wonwoo’s admittedly not the best at
recognizing even his own computer science cohort, new as they are. “Is that a patch?”

They’re definitely talking about him. Wonwoo’s face burns.

He’d finally mustered up the courage to leave his room with a scent-blocker patch this morning,
after weeks and weeks of putting them on in the mirror and then immediately peeling them off,
feeling like a fraud. It’d taken a lot of encouragement from the internet and his two (2) friends to
make it happen: the patch doesn’t even necessarily signal that he’s an omega, just means that he’s
someone who doesn’t want to smell or be smelled. Besides, he’s not lying to anyone - he’ll be an
omega some day. He’d tested O-high and A-low in his standard hormone panel as a teen after all,
so all it’s going to take is some extra hormones to get him out of the biological beta range. Not that
he knows where he’s going to get those yet, whether they’ll come over the counter or from a…
partner, but Wonwoo is confident that it’ll happen.

This is all to say: he’d hoped that people would notice the patch, but just subtly. Just in passing,
just to subconsciously register that Jeon Wonwoo must have a scent to block.

“I guess, yeah,” a different voice says. They must be friends, or seatmates at the very least. “I
thought he was a beta.”

“Same.” There’s a pause. “I mean, late bloomers, right? My brother didn’t present ‘til he was like
twenty, twenty-one.”

Wonwoo spots Jihoon coming in through the entrance of the lecture hall and raises a hand to wave
him over, willing his face to cool down. He makes a point to remove his earphones and the
conversation behind him meanders in a different direction, which makes him feel better. It’s not a
big deal. Tons of people wear patches and late bloomers are a thing. No need to feel self-
conscious.

He moves his backpack to make space for Jihoon to sit down, and his friend’s eyes flick to the dark
rectangle on his neck before he gives Wonwoo a genuinely encouraging smile, patting him on the
shoulder. “Sorry I’m late,” Jihoon says, completely breezing past any discussion of Wonwoo’s
new accessory. Wonwoo is so, so grateful. “You wouldn’t believe what Soonyoung did on the way
here.”

main: senior year

The library’s packed, but Soyeon would recognize varsity hockey captain Kim Mingyu’s
distinctive dark chocolate scent anywhere, especially given the enormous crush she had on him in
first year. Her and every other omega on campus.

“Hey, princess.”

Seoyeon looks up sharply. At the table next to them, Mingyu is standing over Jeon Wonwoo,
computer science student rep and Mingyu’s nemesis for reasons Seoyeon can only assume have to
do with their stark jock-nerd dichotomy. Mingyu’s in shorts and a gym tank, drawstring bag slung
over his broad shoulders, long hair pushed back from his handsome face. Wonwoo is sat at the
table in a soft-looking sweatshirt and jeans, horn-rimmed glasses perched on his nose.

Seoyeon reaches across the table to bat insistently at Jiwon’s notebook to get her attention and
Jiwon glances behind herself before turning back, eyes wide. “Holy shit,” she mouths silently.
Seoyeon nods vigorously in agreement and makes a slicing gesture across her throat. They’re going
to kill each other and then Jiwon and Seoyeon will have to testify in court as witnesses.

“Mingyu.” Wonwoo says flatly, looking up from his laptop and then back down again. “Can I help
you?” He sounds bored and maybe a little annoyed, clearly busy with whatever he’s typing.

“Not really.” Mingyu flashes him a blinding smile and Soyeon swoons a little bit before returning
to eavesdropping. “Just saying hi.”

“That’s nice,” Wonwoo says, but he doesn’t look up again. “What are you doing in the library? I
didn’t know you could read.”

Mingyu’s laugh is loud and even just sounds handsome. Ugh, he’s so hot. “You crack me up,”
Mingyu says, faux-affectionate. “I’ll see you later, baby. Don’t miss me too much.”

Seoyeon squints as Mingyu strolls away. She can only see the back of Wonwoo’s head, but the tips
of his ears look a little red. He must be so mad.

“Wild,” Jiwon murmurs, just quiet enough that Wonwoo can’t hear her. Probably.

Seoyeon sighs and looks back down at her notes. “Jealous.”

Chan’s pretty new to the hockey team but they seem like a great group of guys, much to his relief
and in sharp contrast to the minor league team he played on in high school. They skate three
evenings a week and work on their own individual gym plans in between, but Chan finds that he
sees most of the guys almost every day. Vernon’s in a bunch of his classes and they save each other
seats. Him and Changbin have a regular lunch table and time.

Even Mingyu, team captain for two years in the running, makes time in his insane class schedule to
hang out off the ice. Usually this means working out together or house parties or impromptu team
lunches, but today it means hanging back in the locker room just to shoot the shit. There’s music
blaring from Seokmin's bluetooth speaker, the energy is high, and everyone is taking a completely
unnecessary amount of time with their post-skate stretches as an excuse to stay longer. Chan has a
bunch of assignments to tackle tonight but he’s in too good of a mood to leave.

“Ohhh, captain,” someone crows. Chan looks up from the floor where Vernon’s helping him
stretch out his hamstrings to find their captain struggling out of his compression shirt. At first Chan
thinks that they’re ogling Mingyu’s abs which, like - yeah, but then he catches sight of the long,
pink scratch marks decorating Mingyu’s back and suddenly the commotion makes a lot more
sense.

Mingi, a second-year defenceman with limbs a little too long for his own good, whistles loudly
over top of everyone else’s sudden yelling. “Keeping the missus happy, hyung?”

Mingyu’s making a face when he finally manages to free himself from the compression shirt,
running his fingers through his sweat-damp hair. “Something like that,” he demures, but there’s a
pleased quirk in his lips.

Huh. Chan had no idea that their captain was dating. Going by how openly and raucously the
general study body lusts after Mingyu, Chan figured that he was probably just hooking up here and
there, nothing serious. Chan usually doesn’t swing for alphas, but even he gets it. Mingyu’s a good
captain; he’d make a good pack alpha if he ever chose to start his own. He also smells pretty
fucking good, which is a plus.

“Leave Gyu and his roster alone,” Jungkook calls from beside Mingyu. Chan’s suspicions of
Mingyu’s casual flings are confirmed. Jungkook is vice-captain and also Mingyu’s best friend;
Mingyu tried to make him co-captain this year, but Jungkook didn’t want to deal with the admin
and is also allegedly balancing a triple-major or something on the side. The grin on his face says
that he very much does not plan on leaving Mingyu and his roster alone. “He’s a busy man, you
know. Whose turn was it this time? Was it Baby?”

The room launches into renewed uproar as Mingyu throws his compression shirt into Jungkook’s
face.

"Who’s baby,” Chan mouths up at Vernon.

Vernon just laughs and presses down harder on Chan’s leg. Motherfucker. “Hyung’s got someone
saved in his phone as Baby,” he explains under the din. “We’ve got no idea who it is but he got a
call from them last year when Seokmin was changing the music on his phone or something.”

“Ohhh.” Chan holds the stretch for another handful of seconds, grimacing, before he caves and
pries Vernon off of his leg. “That’s - cute, honestly. Baby.” Chan’s a romantic. He’d like to save
someone in his phone as ‘baby’ some day.

“Cute, yeah.” Vernon lets him rest for a second before grabbing his other leg. “Other side now,
come on.”

Soobin clutches his laptop to his chest, inching forward into the comp sci student office. It’s peer
tutoring hours, and today’s peer tutor is none other than their beloved student representative
himself. He clears his throat. “Representative sunbae-nim.”

Wonwoo looks up, half-smiling, eyes warm behind his fashionable wire-rimmed glasses. Soobin
feels as if he’s won the lottery. “Hi, Soobin. Just hyung is fine.”

“Hyung-nim.”

“Just hyung.”

“... Okay. Representative-hyung.”

Wonwoo’s smile gets a little wider and he pats the chair beside him. “Right. Have a seat, Soobin.
What can I help with?”

Soobin does his best to cram his legs under the desk, opening up his laptop and the heinous
Graphics and Animation II assignment that he’s been chipping away at for the last week. He’s just
about to start explaining his laundry list of problems when Wonwoo’s phone goes off, vibrating
against the table.

“Excuse me,” Wonwoo murmurs as he flips it over to glance down at the caller ID. His brow
pinches and he stands up abruptly, chair legs scraping against the floor. “I need to take this. I’ll be
right back, sorry.” He sounds a little embarrassed. Soobin does his best to express it’s okay no
worries totally fine no problem take your time with his hands while Wonwoo steps out of the
office, pressing his cellphone to his ear.

In the meantime, Soobin busies himself with getting comfortable. The student society office is
clean and bright and very organized, which Soobin hears is a vast improvement from the sweaty
gamer dungeon that it used to be. It smells mostly of coffee and very faintly of the senior students
who spend the most time there, with the noticeable absence of anything specific to Wonwoo. Their
president is very diligent about his blocker patches. In fact, Soobin’s never seen him without one,
always the fancy charcoal kind that mutes both the wearers’ scent and sense of smell. Ultra-
focused, ultra-handsome, ultra-helpful rep Jeon.

Ultra-mysterious, too. Wonwoo has a close circle of friends and otherwise doesn’t disclose much
about his personal life. He must be talking to one of those friends now, voice hushed as he takes his
phone call in the hallway. Soobin tries very hard not to eavesdrop but it’s hard not to when the
office is so quiet.

“I’m working,” Wonwoo’s slightly muffled voice says. “Is everything okay?”

There’s an extended pause. That’s not good. Whoever’s on the other end must be in some sort of
trouble.

“Oh, no. Already? Okay, I can–… are you sure? I can leave in twenty. Yeah, but I’ll close the
center early. Okay. See you soon.”

Soobin moves his cursor back and forth in an effort to look busy when Wonwoo re-enters the room
looking frazzled as he ever has, which is to say not very.

“Sorry,” Wonwoo says primly, sitting back down.“I’ll have to head out in a bit to help a friend
with… Something urgent, but we can talk about this first.”

“Ah, representative-hyung, if you need to go —“

Wonwoo waves him off with a little half-smile again. Soobin sort of wishes he could smell
Wonwoo just so he could get a read on whatever he’s feeling. “It’s okay, no rush. It’s not mission
critical.” He leans in to peer at Soobin’s screen. “What seems to be the problem?”

Mingyu is leaning against the minuscule kitchen counter chugging a glass of ice water when
Wonwoo lets himself into Mingyu’s studio apartment. There’s a key under the welcome mat,
which is a stupidly obvious place to keep a key, but it’s not Wonwoo’s apartment on the line so he
doesn’t nag about it. Besides, the way Mingyu’s place reeks of alpha pheromones is probably
enough to scare most people off. If even Wonwoo’s weak beta senses can pick up on it, it must be
overwhelming for everyone else.
“That was fast,” Mingyu pants. He’s only wearing a pair of tight black boxer briefs, because of
course he is, and Wonwoo can see the long, hard line of his cock through them. He must be really
close to rut.

“I ran,” Wonwoo admits as he bends down to untie his shoes. It’s still fairly early in the day, only
about 5 PM, but it’s that weird lull where most people on campus are either in class or already at
home so there hadn’t been too many people out to witness his urgent jog. He’d also left his laptop
bag in the student office, unwilling to let anything slow him down. He won’t have time to do work
anyway. “You’re feeling okay?”

“Better now,” Mingyu replies, even though his breathing still sounds labored. It’s such a cheesy
line but Wonwoo doesn’t call him out on it, too absorbed in the way Mingyu’s hands gravitate to
his hips when Wonwoo joins him in the kitchenette. “I’ll take that, though.” Mingyu moves the
collar of Wonwoo’s sweater to the side in order to peel off his blocker patch with gentle fingers,
tossing it into the kitchen bin. Then he dips down to press his nose into the crook of Wonwoo’s
neck, inhaling deeply. “Perfect,” he rumbles. “I swear it’s getting sweeter every day.”

Wonwoo just flushes and leans into Mingyu’s chest. He hasn’t noticed any concrete signs that what
they’re doing - that the bitching - is working, but he’ll notice things here and there that have him
hopeful. His thighs are a little softer. He can pick up on Mingyu’s scent more easily, even though
that might just be a reflex now. Mingyu always talks about his scent getting stronger but no one
else has mentioned it, not that Wonwoo hangs out with many people patchless these days,
especially since he’s been taking it from Mingyu so often that people would only ever smell the
alpha on him.

“Let’s get you to bed.” Wonwoo tugs on Mingyu’s hand in lieu of responding to any speculations
about his thus far unconfirmed scent and Mingyu goes willingly, palming Wonwoo’s ass through
his jeans. Wonwoo can only roll his eyes. “I’m going to get washed up,” he murmurs. He’s not
omega yet; he has to do the requisite clean-up before Mingyu can rail him six ways to Sunday but
the alpha seems reluctant to let him go, rucking up his sweater to pet at his sides and flat stomach.

“Just a little bit first,” Mingyu bargains. He’s already pushing down the waistband of his boxer
briefs with the hand that isn’t groping Wonwoo and Wonwoo’s mouth starts to water. “Please? Just
to take the edge off.”

He can’t say no to that. “Just a little,” Wonwoo allows, trying to sound stern. He doesn’t think it’s
very effective, especially with how quickly he gets on his knees. He loves sucking Mingyu off. It’s
necessary for his end goal, but he thinks that he’d enjoy it even if it wasn’t essentially DIY
hormone therapy. Wonwoo makes himself comfortable on the rug, the picture of good behavior,
eagerly waiting for Mingyu to get his underwear off.

No matter how many times he does this, it’s always overwhelming having Mingyu’s cock in his
face. It’s big and thick and flushed dark red, already steadily drooling beads of clear pre-come that
Wonwoo wastes no time in lapping at with the tip of his tongue. Mingyu strokes Wonwoo’s fringe
back from his forehead with the broad flat of his palm, gentle for as long as he can bear it before
the rut takes over and his fingers fist in the back of Wonwoo’s hair, hard enough to hurt.

“Open up,” Mingyu says, voice rough. It’s not a request. Wonwoo can only obey, letting his jaw
fall open just as Mingyu takes himself in his hand and slaps the fat head of it against the hollow of
his cheek. He’s not proud of the noise that he makes but Mingyu seems to like it because he does it
again, smearing pre-come over the soft skin before stuffing the head into Wonwoo’s warm, wet
little mouth.

“Fuck.” Mingyu’s head falls back as Wonwoo suckles at the tip, breathing heavily through his
nose. Mingyu tastes like salt and soap underneath his heady, bitter scent of cocoa, doubly strong
with how close he is to rut. Wonwoo could drown in it, already completely lost in keeping his
breathing steady and his teeth out of the way. He reaches up and wraps his long fingers around the
majority of the shaft that he couldn’t fit in his mouth, giving it a gentle pump. It’s too dry, so he
pulls off and ducks his head to lick sloppily from Mingyu’s balls all the way back up to the tip
before cramming his mouth full again.

Mingyu hisses on an inhale and leverages his grip in Wonwoo’s hair to move his head back and
forth just slightly, shallowly fucking his mouth. This is perfect - Wonwoo can just float like this,
leaving all the work in Mingyu’s capable hands. He even gets a reward at the end of all this, and all
he needs to do is keep his mouth open.

Mingyu pushes just a little deeper on an inwards thrust and Wonwoo wills himself to relax, making
more and more room for whatever Mingyu wants until Mingyu’s steadily bludgeoning Wonwoo’s
soft palate and the back of his throat. The wet schlick that Wonwoo’s throat makes as he tries his
best not to gag is gross but he loves this, loves doing this for Mingyu.

“That’s it, baby. Good boy,” Mingyu groans. If Wonwoo could get wet, he’d have soaked through
his jeans by now. As it is, his dick is straining painfully against the rough denim, but he doesn’t
touch himself. Not while he’s servicing Mingyu, not while Mingyu’s calling him all sorts of sweet
names. “Know exactly what I like.”

Wonwoo chest flares with pride. He knows Mingyu has a long history of hook-ups and an even
longer line of people hoping to get with him, but he’s the one that stuck. Mingyu’s taught him
everything he knows. Of course he does everything exactly the way Mingyu likes it, Mingyu’s
perfect lay.

The rut makes Mingyu easier to set off. Usually they could go at this for what feels like hours but
today Mingyu yanks him off of his cock after only a handful of minutes, jacking himself off in
quick strokes with one hand and gripping Wonwoo’s chin in the other, keeping his mouth open.
Making sure he takes it. “Perfect omega,” he snarls as Wonwoo holds bleary eye contact with him
through unshed tears and fogged-up glasses. His throat’s a little raw and he knows it’ll just be
worse by the time Mingyu gets to fucking him properly. It’s perfect. “Go on.” Mingyu shoves into
Wonwoo’s mouth even as he continues stroking himself and that’s all the permission Wonwoo
needs to suck greedily, swirling his tongue around the head, desperate for it, spit dripping down his
chin. “Fucking take it.”

Mingyu’s come is hot and salty and thick. Wonwoo swallows it down as it comes, pulse roaring in
his ears. He’s close himself, just from being on his knees and taking a load in his mouth, but he
knows he shouldn’t get himself off until Mingyu’s inside him properly or it’ll be a long rut.

When Wonwoo’s licked him clean, Mingyu flops bonelessly back onto the bed. He’s still hard, and
probably will be for the next day or so. It sounds horribly painful, but Wonwoo will be here to
help.

“I’m really going to wash up now,” Wonwoo tells him, getting up slowly. His knees ache a little
but he doesn’t regret it. He can’t wait ‘til he’s an omega proper, when he’ll just be wet all the time
and Mingyu can just mount him at the drop of a dime.

“Kay. Kiss first,” Mingyu pouts, and Wonwoo obliges.

“You know, I thought he was a beta in first year,” Yeongho says.

Miyoung swats at her friend’s head without looking up from her laptop. She doesn’t know who
he’s talking about, but they’re in the middle of the annual hackathon that has an actual cash prize
this year, and her coffee fund is dangerously low. Her and Yeongho are fourth years now. If they
get smoked by some first year with a Google internship she’s going to scream. “Focus.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Miyoung gets another five minutes to code in peace before Yeongho taps her on the arm, urgent.
“Is that a hickey?” he stage-whispers, and Miyoung wants to win this but she’s also not immune to
gossip, especially in a department as dry as computer science. A quick look can’t hurt.

“Who?” She swivels her head, scanning the room, but no one looks obviously fucked-out.

Yeongho gestures towards the front of the room with his chin. If he’s trying to be subtle, he’s
doing a bad job of it. “Wonwoo.”

That’s surprising. Wonwoo’s a nice guy; Miyoung hasn’t talked to him much despite them being in
the same cohort, but she’d voted for him in student elections, and he’s always been really helpful.
Quiet and a little cagey but very kind, so long as Kim Mingyu isn’t in the room. Miyoung doesn’t
know what beef they have but it’s kind of funny.

“I’m not seeing it,” she whispers back.

“Under the patch.”

Oh, wow. Yeongho’s right: there’s a touch of purple peeking out from under the charcoal-black
scent blocker patch that Wonwoo always has on, usually neatly tucked away under the collar of his
sweaters. If Yeongho hadn’t pointed it out then Miyoung might’ve never noticed it, but this is new
.

“Holy shit.”

“Right?” Yeongho has the decency to pretend to type, even though Miyoung can see that he’s just
typing nonsense and then rapidly backspacing in their shared workspace. “But it’s like, I don’t even
know if he’s taking it or dishing it out. Can’t imagine him doing either.”

Huh. Come to think of it, Miyoung also doesn’t know if their student rep is an alpha or omega, not
that either of those things would dictate his sexual preferences. “Do you know if he’s…?”

“Nope. Told you, I thought he was a beta in first year.”

True. Miyoung had taken careful stock of their classmates when they’d first started the program
and Wonwoo had definitely fallen into the beta category for reasons she can’t remember. Has he
always had the patch on? She wouldn’t have classified him as a beta if she’d seen it earlier, she
knows that much. Betas don’t need patches. They smell pretty neutral and aren’t crazy sensitive to
scents either, but Wonwoo has one on, so he’s… something else. Most alphas and omegas don’t
even wear the patches all the time, so Wonwoo must be really sensitive in one way or another.
Maybe strong smells give him migraines.

“He probably presented late,” Yeongho hypothesizes. That’s not outside the realm of possibility.
Most people present before starting university, but it’s a normal distribution.

“Yeah.” Miyoung gives Wonwoo a cursory once-over. He’s tall and broad enough to be a typical
alpha, but the way he carries himself suggests otherwise. The taper of his waist, and the careful
way he moves his hands… “I dunno. Glad someone in this department is getting some, though.”
“Get it, rep Jeon,” Yeongho agrees, and then back to coding they go.

“Captain Kim,” Haneul squeaks.

He’s been trying to work himself up to this for a month, ever since he dropped a pen in his first-
year literature requirement and Mingyu had picked it up to return it to him, which is something
Haneul is definitely going to recount to their future grandchildren. Mingyu is older and hotter and
only taking this course because he’d shirked core academics for hockey when he was in first year,
but Haneul thinks it’s a sign from the universe that LIT101 was destined to be their meet-cute.

“Ah, Haneul. Hi.” Mingyu looks up from where he’s neatly packing his things back into his bag,
and gives a little wave. He’s so neat for an alpha. Haneul almost swoons.

“I wanted to give this to you.” His hands only shake a little bit as he thrusts a sticky note
embellished with his phone number and a bold little doodle of a heart into Mingyu’s hands.
“You’re very handsome and I think you should let me know if you want to take me out to dinner
some time.”

Mingyu accepts the sticky note. Their hands even brush a little. “I’m flattered,” he says in that
delicious slight lisp of his, and that’s all Haneul needs to hear, mumbling a quick “text me” and
scuttling away before Mingyu can say anything else.

“Bountiful harvest,” Wonwoo comments dryly from where he’s sorting laundry on Mingyu’s floor.

Wonwoo lives in a dorm building with communal laundry machines in a basement unit that not
only smells weird but is also absolutely, undoubtedly, utterly haunted. Mingyu lives in a swanky
studio apartment that has in-suite laundry and utilities built into his rent. Wonwoo is here pretty
much every day anyway, so it just makes sense that he’d get to do his laundry here as well.

The end result is that they usually wind up doing their laundry together. It’s the eco-friendly
choice, and they have no reservations about contaminating each other’s clothes because if there’s
jizz on any of Wonwoo’s stuff, it’s usually Mingyu’s, and vice versa.

From his desk, Mingyu glances over to where Wonwoo has just fished a handful of phone numbers
out of the pocket of a pair of Mingyu’s jeans. “Oh yeah. Busy week.” He turns back to his
assignment. “Good boy, checking the pockets and everything.”

“Okay, that was one time.” Wonwoo ran a pair of Mingyu’s earphones through the wash over a
year ago, and Mingyu has been milking it for small favors ever since. “Do you call any of these
people?” he wonders out loud, laying out the scraps out paper like he’s sorting through evidence at
a crime scene. He knows that Mingyu’s popular, and this isn’t the first time he’s found phone
numbers in their laundry, but it doesn’t mean he likes it.

There’s nothing to be done about it, though. Their arrangement is secret on Wonwoo’s terms, and
they’ve been exclusively sleeping with each other for almost two years now. Even if they hadn’t
explicitly discussed it in the early days of seeing each other, Wonwoo doubts Mingyu would have
time to see anyone else between giving Wonwoo his come in one way or another almost every
single day.

Mingyu shakes his head, oblivious to the little storm cloud brewing above Wonwoo’s head behind
him. “Why would I? Got a pretty omega right here.” Wonwoo flushes, shoving his hand into the
pants’ other pockets just to give himself something to do. “Even does my laundry,” Mingyu tacks
on, and Wonwoo throws a pair of boxers at the back of his head.

“You smell different,” Jihoon says, wrinkling his nose. It’s not a bad smell, per se, but he’s very
sensitive to scents and he’s come to associate Wonwoo with complete neutrality, a safe haven in
the sea of hormonal young adults that is college. It’s a weekend and just the two of them hanging
out, so today is one of the rare instances that Wonwoo doesn’t have a patch on.

“Yeah, sorry.” Wonwoo looks up from where he’s inspecting the nutrition facts on a juice box to
give Jihoon an apologetic look. “I – um.”

It clicks in Jihoon’s mind, then, that this is a big deal. Wonwoo’s always wanted to smell like
something and now he kind of does, even though it’s not fully developed yet. His scent is muted,
like how most teenaged alphas and omegas smell when they’re a few months away from
presenting. “Oh shit,” he says, too loud. Wonwoo’s subtly widened eyes remind him that they’re in
a convenience store. “Oh shit,” he says again, quieter. “Congrats, dude.”

Wonwoo’s clearly trying to rein in his smile, but he’s doing a poor job at it. “Thanks, Jihoonie.”

Jihoon watches his friend’s shoulders relax and is overcome by a sudden wave of emotion that’s
only belatedly accompanied by a tiny itch of curiosity. The latter is easier to address, pragmatic as
him and Wonwoo are, so Jihoon bumps affectionately up against his friend’s arm and buys him his
juice box.

“Is it weird if I ask how you’ve been doing it?” he asks when they’re sitting on a park bench with
their beverages. “Not in detail obviously, but like… who.”

It’s no secret that bitching works, and how it works. There’s tons of tacky, poorly acted porn about
it and a swath of scientific papers about shifting hormone levels or whatever, but Jihoon doesn’t
actually know anyone who’s gone through with it the old-fashioned way except for Wonwoo.
There’s synthetic hormones available on the market, but there’s no way their meager student
insurance would cover the cost of them.

Wonwoo takes a long slurp from his juice box. “I don’t know if you’d believe me if I told you,” he
says slowly, chewing at the end of the straw. “And you’d have to promise not to tell. At least until
it’s, you know. Done.”

Jihoon hums. “Except for Soonyoung?”

Wonwoo looks like he’s considering it. It’s hard to keep secrets between the three of them; the only
reason Jihoon and Soonyoung don’t already know who Wonwoo’s been seeing is because they’ve
purposefully kept each other from asking about it, respectful of Wonwoo’s shyness and
boundaries. If Wonwoo says no today, he won’t push it.

“Except for Soonyoung,” Wonwoo agrees. He takes a deep breath. “It’s, uh, Mingyu.”

Jihoon jolts in surprise, then relaxes when he realizes that Wonwoo is playing a prank. He’s funny
like that, always when Jihoon least expects his sometimes-bizarre sense of humor to jump out.
“You’re funny,” he chuckles. “Okay, okay. I won’t pry.”

“No, seriously.” Wonwoo’s got a meek little smile on, much to Jihoon’s growing horror. “It’s
Mingyu. He’s been really great, honestly, I don’t know if anyone else would’ve agreed to it.”
“You’re fucking with me,” Jihoon accuses, and Wonwoo shakes his head, smile growing wider.

“Told you you wouldn’t believe me.”

“No way.” Jihoon tips his head back and stares at the sky. “This is doing ridiculous things to my
worldview right now, Wonu.”

Jihoon doesn’t really have an opinion on Mingyu, apart from the fact that he’s objectively good-
looking, probably the most textbook example of an alpha out there, and allegedly very good at
hockey. Wonwoo, on the other hand, was supposed to be arch-nemeses with him.

“I know. Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” Wonwoo looks genuinely apologetic and Jihoon waves
him off, smacking him on the shoulder.

“Don’t be sorry, none of that.” He cocks his head to the side. “I thought you didn’t like him,
though? You guys are always, you know.” He makes a punching gesture in the air.

“I really didn’t,” Wonwoo assures him. “You remember what he was like in first year, all…” He
puffs up a little, arms out to the side in a macho posture. ““But he’s – I do now. Like him.”

That’s what matters, at the end of the day. Jihoon takes a sip of his drink, still trying to wrap his
head around it. “You really don’t do anything halfway.” Trust Wonwoo to choose the top alpha on
campus to bitch him. “Soonyoungie’s gonna lose it, you know.”

Wonwoo just smiles around his straw. Jihoon still can’t quite place his scent properly, but he
thinks he smells happy.

“You okay, Wonwoo?” Seokjin asks with a not insignificant level of concern.

They’re playing Team Fight Tactics in one of the teaching computer labs, which is definitely
misuse of university property, but Seokjin doesn’t care. He’s a grad student so he’s basically
immune from any scolding that admin might send his way, and Wonwoo is the golden boy of the
undergrad department so he’s also in the clear.

“M’fine, hyung. Just kind of warm.”

Seokjin has never seen Wonwoo with a hair out of place, even in Wonwoo’s first year when
Seokjin was TA-ing his Intro to Java class. He doesn’t look disheveled relative to the rest of the
student population, but he definitely looks off from his usual.

“Hang on.” Seokjin presses the back of his hand to Wonwoo’s forehead, half-watching his
champions battle it out on screen. “No, you’re burning up.”

Wonwoo touches his own forehead, looking a little puzzled. “Oh.”

Frowning, Seokjin eyes the patch on Wonwoo’s neck. He can smell something sweet emanating
off of him despite the blockers; they’re good for every-day use but not sufficient to mask any sort
of surge.

“Any chance your heat’s hitting?” he asks briskly. They’ve never talked about their statuses, but
Wonwoo doesn’t seem confrontational enough to be an alpha. Call it a sixth sense, but Seokjin is
pretty confident that he’d recognize another omega anywhere. “Do you track them in your
calendar?”
“Oh, um.” Wonwoo still looks a little overwhelmed. “I don’t. But I think I should go home?”

Seokjin clicks his tongue, already helping pack Wonwoo’s things away into his backpack. It’s out
of character for someone as responsible as Wonwoo to lose track of these sorts of things, but it
happens to everyone at least once.

“I’ll link you to the tracking app I use,” he says, ushering Wonwoo towards the door. The poor kid
looks like he’s getting worse by the second, but he should have plenty of time to get back to the
dorms. “Text me when you get home.”

“Yes, hyung. Sorry. Thank you.” Wonwoo gives a little wave as he stumbles off. Seokjin is
reminded of the way baby deer walk.

“Call someone to help you!” he calls after him. “Be safe!”

“Don’t yell,” Wonwoo calls back. “And finish the game for me, please, I want the points.”

That’s the Wonwoo Seokjin knows. He’s going to be just fine.

“Oh shit!” Chan exclaims. He’s in charge of locker room music today, but his phone won’t connect
to the speaker because he’s dropped it on the pavement one too many times, so he’s dutifully
queueing up his playlist on Mingyu’s phone instead. There’s no music playing at the moment,
however, on account of the incoming call that’s taken up the screen. “Baby!”

Jungkook’s head whips around, grinning. “No way.”

“Yes way, I swear.” Chan turns the screen towards him and Jungkook laughs brightly, locker room
descending into chaos as the rest of the team catches on.

“What’s happening?”

Mingyu emerges from the showers, towel slung around his waist, half-smiling as he waits to be
filled in on the joke. Jungkook takes the phone from Chan’s hand and brandishes it towards
Mingyu. “Genuinely shocked you haven’t changed this yet,” he teases, but he hands the phone over
easily when Mingyu reaches out to snatch it, eyes wide.

“Someone else play music,” Mingyu orders, disconnecting his phone from the bluetooth before
answering the call. It must be urgent. “Hello?”

Chan watches as he jams the phone between his head and his shoulder and pulls on a pair of boxers
before letting his towel drop. The locker room quiets down a little out of respect, even if there’s a
few titters here and there. It sounds serious.

“Okay. You at home?”

Seokmin puts his phone in Chan’s hands and he quickly moves to log into his Spotify while
definitely not trying to eavesdrop on whatever Baby is saying.

“Stay there. I’ll be there in ten.” Mingyu hangs up and the room’s volume explodes again,
everyone curious as Mingyu gets dressed in record time. “Heat, probably,” he says in brief
explanation, which is far more than he usually says about his private life. “Kook, make sure
everyone stretches.” Then he’s out the door, followed by a handful of catcalls and a lot of
unanswered questions.
–

Wonwoo’s peachy scent is flaring on and off when Mingyu gets into his room, strong enough now
that he can almost taste it when he presses his tongue to Wonwoo’s neck.

“Hurts,” Wonwoo gasps. He’s curled up on the mattress, bare except for the sheet thrown over his
waist, and the sight of him breaks Mingyu’s heart, makes him wish that he’d kept Wonwoo in his
own apartment last night and just waited for this to hit. He puts Wonwoo on his front and presses a
thumb to his hole, pleased to find it wet already. Not as wet as most omegas usually get in
Mingyu’s previous experience, but definitely the wettest Wonwoo has been, certainly too wet for
him to be a beta any more.

“Pretty,” he says up against Wonwoo’s ear, chest pressed flush against his back. He slicks himself
up with lube to make up the difference and then pushes in slowly. It feels incredible, soft and hot
and tight, but if this really is Wonwoo’s first heat then he needs to be gentle. “That okay?”

“Better,” Wonwoo agrees feverishly. His skin is hot to the touch, face and neck tinged pink.
“Dunno why I didn’t feel it earlier.”

“It happens,” Mingyu soothes. “You’ll learn the signs later, lots of time.” He sits up on his knees,
dragging Wonwoo’s hips up with him and rearranging his legs to fold on either side of Mingyu’s.
It should be more comfortable like this, especially if Wonwoo wants a knot. The idea of it has
Mingyu excited - they’ve never done that before, Wonwoo’s body previously unable to
accommodate it.

“Go slow.” There’s a nervous tint to Wonwoo’s voice even as he dishes out directions, and Mingyu
wishes he could flip him over to see his face but it’s not worth the risk of accidentally knotting him
in that position. “It’s still – a little dry.”

It is, but Mingyu’s proud of Wonwoo’s body for slicking up regardless. He can’t help but feel like
he has a personal stake in all of this, even though he knows that he’s the least important component
of this equation, just the means to an end. Wonwoo picked Mingyu to bitch him, and Mingyu’s
done it. Any alpha would have done it, but Wonwoo wanted Mingyu.

He fucks Wonwoo carefully, never pushing in or pulling out more than a couple inches at a time.
Wonwoo gets wetter and wetter but stays lucid, making all the pretty sounds like Mingyu has
grown to love, until Mingyu pushes in on a gentle thrust and feels Wonwoo flutter around him, a
sure sign that he’s come.

If it was really heat, Wonwoo would be just getting started. He’d smell absolutely insane and his
body would be impatient for more, but as it is, his scent is tapering off and he seems exhausted as
Mingyu rolls him over, eager to check on how he’s feeling.

“Sorry,” Wonwoo rasps, “you didn’t, I want you to – can you…?”

He can. Wary of over-using Wonwoo’s sensitive body, Mingyu jacks himself off quickly and
pushes in deep only when he’s about to finish, stuffing Wonwoo full of his come. Wonwoo’s eyes
are shut, chest heaving, and Mingyu can’t help but think that he’s the luckiest alpha in the world.

“Sorry,” Wonwoo says again after a handful of minutes, within which Mingyu has cleaned them
up and tucked them both under blankets. He won’t meet Mingyu’s eyes and he looks embarrassed,
curled into Mingyu’s chest. “False alarm, I guess. I hope you didn’t have to leave anything
important.”
“Don’t be. Probably just means you’re closer to the real thing.” Mingyu kisses the top of his head.
“And I didn’t, just finished practice. Although - I really gotta change your contact name,” he
muses, reaching over to grab his phone from the nightstand.

Wonwoo narrows his eyes, mid-yawn. “Tell me it’s not just ‘Jeon Wonwoo’.”

“It’s not, it’s not. Relax.”

There’s a beat of comfortable silence.

“What is it, then?”

Mingyu angles the phone screen so Wonwoo can’t see it, suddenly unsure. He has the page open,
but he can’t bring himself to change it, especially not when Wonwoo looks all cute like this.

“Nothing crazy important,” he lies, setting it back down under the pillow. “I’ll show you later.
Let’s nap, yeah?”

They do.

Mingyu and Wonwoo are rarely seen in the same room around campus, especially after their
rivalry became something of an urban legend in their first year. The bi-annual Undergraduate
Student Society general meeting is an exception to that rule, although sometimes it’s only an
annual meeting because no one on the board actually cares that much.

Today’s meeting is bizarrely well-attended, which is great for passing quorum but also means that
people actually want things, promising an enormous headache for Seonghwa as the acting
secretary.

“Who’s that,” Yeosang says, tugging on Seonghwa’s sleeve. Seonghwa has 29 Google docs open
on his laptop and the meeting starts in two minutes, but his first-year assistant is too sweet and
guileless to ignore so he looks in the direction that Yeosang’s pointing anyway.

“That’s Kim Mingyu.”

Varsity captains are obligated to come to these meetings, but that doesn’t mean they actually do.
Kim Mingyu is one of the few that regularly attend, meaning that the hockey team has a monopoly
over a healthy portion of the athletics budget.

“He’s really nice-looking.”

Seonghwa buries his head back in his laptop and pretends to not have heard that. It’s a canon event
for first-year omegas like Yeosang to marvel over Kim Mingyu’s face and ridiculous biceps.
Seonghwa can’t interfere.

“Hi, Seonghwa-ssi,” a deep voice says in front of him a handful of seconds later. Seonghwa looks
up to see Computer Science representative Jeon Wonwoo offering him a stack of papers. Out of the
corner of his eye, Seonghwa sees Yeosang’s jaw drop.

“Wonwoo-ssi. Thanks.” He flips through the pile, most of them being renewal requests for the
billion student-led gaming clubs within the computer science department. “Club Penguin Club?
Really?’
Wonwoo shrugs. The collar of his shirt shifts a little with the movement, drawing attention to the
patch stuck to the side of his neck. He seems a little more animated than usual, like he just went on
a run or something, abnormally restless. “Don’t shoot the messenger,” he says, hands raised. Then,
friendly as always, “do let me know if there’s anything I can do to make approving those easier.”

“Thank you,” Seonghwa says again, and Wonwoo gives him a polite little bow before walking
back to his seat at the back of the room.

Luckily, the meeting starts before Yeosang can provide any more apt observations out loud.

It’s terrible, just like Seonhwa expected. Inflation is real and too many clubs have lines on their
budget sheets that just say “pizza”.

The sheer number of people in the room doesn’t help either. It’s stuffy, too many scents mixed
together. Wonwoo had the right idea wearing a patch, Seonghwa thinks idly, watching as a handful
of alphas in the auditorium grow restless.

They break an hour in, chairs creaking as everyone stands up to stretch their legs.

“Something smells good,” an alpha in the first row says, only audible above the rest of the chatter
due to his proximity to Seonghwa. He only vaguely recognizes the alpha as a music major, maybe
associated with the concert band. Or the screamo club, but what’s the difference? “Like fruit.”

“Right? I thought I was going nuts,” the other alpha beside him agrees. “Makes me wanna eat
fuzzy peaches.”

Seonghwa inhales covertly through his nose. They’re not wrong, but the peach doesn’t stand out to
him, sensitive as his omega nose is. It’s just faint, but pleasant. Warm, like a summer day.

“Wonwoo.” Another voice cuts through the din. In the second row, Kim Mingyu towers over the
rest of its occupants, facing the back of the room. Seonghwa arches an eyebrow as a hush passes
over the room at large. “Can I talk to you for a second? Outside?”

Seonghwa’s eyes flit to Wonwoo’s seat in the back row. He doesn’t look angry, just confused.

“Whoa, buddy.” The student rep for the Math department, a surprisingly built third-year alpha, is
sitting to Wonwoo’s left. He holds an arm out in front of Wonwoo in a protective gesture, as if
Mingyu’s going to launch himself across half a dozen rows of desks to finish him off. “How about
you talk inside?”

“You can stay out of this,” Mingyu invites pleasantly. He’s already heading up the stairs, long legs
striding over two steps at a time towards Wonwoo and the doors at the back of the lecture hall.
“Wonwoo, come.”

To everyone’s surprise, Wonwoo gets up. The Math rep seems agitated but Wonwoo shakes his
head, brushing past him. “Excuse us,” he says on his way out. There’s a blush running down the
back of his neck, probably unused to all the attention. “We’ll be right back.”

“You’re going into heat,” Mingyu tells him the second they exit the meeting. Wonwoo shakes his
head, unwilling to believe that Mingyu would be able to sense that before him, but he lets Mingyu
take his hand and lead him outside anyway. The evening air is cool against his skin. Was he this
warm before? He can’t remember.
“We’ll go back to mine,” Mingyu decides. He seems antsy. Wonwoo looks down at their linked
hands – they’ve never touched in public before, but it feels nice so Wonwoo doesn’t let go.

“It’s probably just another false alarm,” he murmurs, but going back to Mingyu’s doesn’t sound
like a bad idea, especially when Mingyu smells this good. He’s become accustomed to Mingyu’s
dark chocolate over the past few months, but it smells especially rich right now, even with his
patch still on. “Sorry. You can drop me off and go back, if you want.”

“No, no. I really don’t want.” They pass by a group of students loitering in front of the gym and
Mingyu lets go of his hand only to wrap an arm around Wonwoo’s waist. The students gawk and
Wonwoo has it in him to feel smug, even as he focuses on keeping up with Mingyu’s brisk walking
pace. God, he really does feel warm.

“Can’t bring you anywhere,” Mingyu sighs, teasing. “If that kid had tried to keep you any longer I
might’ve actually decked him.”

Wonwoo doesn’t know who he’s talking about. “Who?”

“Not important,” Mingyu assures him, and that’s good enough for whatever reason. “Just need to
get you in bed, baby, and then I’ll make it better.”

“Yes please.” Mingyu always makes it better. Mingyu made him into an omega, how good is that?
“Take me home.”

Wonwoo’s first heat lasts two days. Mingyu had the good sense to text Jihoon and Soonyoung in
advance of any missing posters going up, but it causes quite the stir anyway.

“I think Kim Mingyu might need to be in jail,” Soobin tells Jihoon, solemn and completely
sincere.

Wonwoo is obviously not available to tutor today, so Jihoon is begrudgingly taking his place. He’s
not even formally in computer science, but he had to take all the first year comp sci courses for his
music production major, so he supposes it counts.

“He’s fine,” Jihoon says flatly. “Wonwoo will be back soon. Can I help you with something?”

“I’m just worried,” Soobin continues, “because, like – I heard Mingyu-ssi dragged representative-
hyung out of a meeting, and –”

Jihoon pinches the bridge of his nose. “Wonwoo’s in heat, Soobin.”

This is what Wonwoo would want, Jihoon figures. He’d never openly declare his omega status
himself, so maybe this will travel down the grapevine and no one will ever ask him about it to his
face.

Soobin blinks. “Oh.”

Jihoon blinks back, satisfied that he’s put a cork in the topic. “I’m sure you can put two and two
together.”

“But - but that’s even worse!” Soobin is suddenly livid, eyes wide. “Aren’t you worried that
Mingyu-ssi might’ve taken – ohhh, wait.”
It’s amazing, Jihoon thinks, that something as abstract as a thought process can be so highly
visible.

“Right.” There’s an awkward pause. “So did you have a question?”

Mingyu presses his knot insistently against the swollen-red rim of Wonwoo’s hole, ignoring the
hurt little noises he’s making. Wonwoo needs this, hopefully for the last time for the next few
hours at least.

“F– fuck,” Wonwoo cries weakly as it finally sinks in. Even after two days of being pounded out,
his body is still tight and wet, perfectly molded to Mingyu’s cock. Mingyu collapses over him, hips
jumping a little bit as he pumps another load into Wonwoo’s willing hole.

They lie there until the knot goes down, exhausted even though they’ve had some practice with
Mingyu’s ruts.

“I think it’s done,” Wonwoo says, throat clicking with how fucked-out he is. He’d planned to go
back to class as soon as he could, but he might have to take another day off just to recover.

“Yeah?” Mingyu pulls out by just a bit, checking to make sure that he isn’t hurting Wonwoo before
he pulls out entirely. Come seeps out of Wonwoo but he’s too tired to care; besides, he’s an omega
now. They’re going to have to start being careful about doing it raw soon to avoid any pregnancy
scares.

Speaking of.

“I’m an omega now,” he mumbles into the pillow.

Mingyu returns to the bed with a warm washcloth, diligently cleaning up the inside of Wonwoo’s
thighs. “What’s that?”

Wonwoo raises his head just enough to fold his arms underneath it, propping his cheek up on top of
his elbow. “I’m an omega now.”

Mingyu’s smile is wide and sincere. “You are,” he agrees, leaning in to press a kiss to Wonwoo’s
cheek. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” He owes Mingyu thanks for a lot of things, but he’s suddenly too anxious to focus on
that now. “Now that - I’m done, I guess, are we…?”

Mingyu’s smile drops. Oh, Wonwoo thinks, bracing himself for the worst. He did this to himself.
If Mingyu views him as a pet project and nothing more, that’s totally on him.

“We could still…” Mingyu gestures between them. “I mean, I like this.” The fan of his lashes is
dark against his cheeks. “I like you.”

The whole room suddenly smells like peaches.

“Me too,” Wonwoo blurts, “I like you too,” and then they’re smiling too wide to kiss each other,
but they’ve got all the time in the world.

(Jiwon smells dark chocolate, but it's a little different. Mixed with something fruitier. She sniffs
 and looks up from her and Seoyeon's regular table in the library to find Kim Mingyu walking past
them, which explains the bulk of the scent. He's in a hoodie and track pants today, suitable for how
the weather is cooling down, but his athletic build is obvious even under all those layers.

Seoyeon kicks Jiwon under the table, which actually kind of hurts. "Stop checking him out," she
mouths. Jiwon kicks her back. She'll do what she wants.

"Hi, princess," Mingyu's voice says in the distance, and both their heads swivel towards him.

He's standing over Jeon Wonwoo again. There's been some crazy rumours flying around about the
two of them over the past couple of days: from what Jiwon's heard, they left a student society
meeting to have an actual, real-life fist fight outside, but Seoyeon's friend's boyfriend's friend in the
comp sci department swears that they were actually passionately making out. Maybe this is her
chance to figure out which one of the rumours is more true.

"Hi," Wonwoo says. Then Mingyu leans down and kisses him on the mouth, and Jiwon can almost
literally hear the sound of hearts shattering all across the floor. "Lunch soon?" Wonwoo asks, as if
he hasn't just shaken the very foundations of the campus.

"Lunch soon," Mingyu confirms fondly. "Gonna head down and grab a table but come down when
you can, yeah?"

Jiwon makes eye contact with a first-year sitting at the table next to them who might actually be
crying, and she gives him a sympathetic nod. It happens to the best of them.

Mingyu swipes the inside of his wrist fondly against the side of Wonwoo's neck, layering
chocolate and peach on top of the patch he always wears. "See you soon, baby." He heads off for
the stairs, leaving everyone else to pick their jaws off the floor and come to terms with the fact that
Kim Mingyu is taken.

“It's always the quiet ones,” Jiwon murmurs.

Seoyeon just sighs. "Wild."

End Notes

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