What the Heart Knows
Jungkook x Pregnant!Reader I Werwolf x Human I Angst I Hurt I Comfort I Domestic Fluff I Supernatural AU
Summary: A misunderstanding born of instinct and exhaustion threatens to crack the foundation between Jungkook and his mate. When harsh words are exchanged, it forces both of them to confront what’s really changing between them
This was the Request: werewolf!Jungkook x pregnant!reader
Word Count: ~ 2K
Masterlist
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The apartment door creaked open at 9:43 p.m.
Again.
You sighed as you stepped inside, kicking off your shoes with a muted thud. Your feet throbbed in your boots from the fourteen-hour shift. The air smelled like the leftovers you forgot in the fridge, the faint laundry detergent from Jungkook’s hoodie on the back of the couch—and faintly, just faintly, the scent of frustration.
He was in the living room. Sitting on the edge of the couch. Shirtless, damp hair, pants slung low on his hips like he hadn’t bothered to finish dressing after his shower. And his eyes met yours like a wolf caught mid-prowl—sharp, dark, searching.
You gave him a tired smile. “Hey, Kook.”
Jungkook didn’t smile back. Instead, he sniffed once. Subtle. Human eyes wouldn’t catch it. You did.
Your brow knit. “You okay?”
“Who were you with?”
You blinked. “What?”
He stood slowly, bare feet soundless against the floor. “Who were you with? You don’t smell right.”
That was the third time this week. You groaned, shoulders sagging as you dropped your bag by the door. “Jungkook, I’ve told you—work has been insane. I’m pulling doubles at the studio. I’m around people all day—paint, chemicals, dust, you name it. That’s what you’re picking up on.”
But Jungkook shook his head, eyes locked on you like he was trying to read something buried beneath your skin.
“No,” he said, quiet but firm. His voice held that edge—controlled, but only just. “You don’t get it. You’ve smelled different for weeks now. Not like work. Not like paint. You smell like…” He exhaled through his nose. “Like someone I don’t know.” Your stomach twisted.
He wasn’t raising his voice. But Jungkook’s intensity was like a building storm, always quietest right before the crack of thunder. You took a cautious step closer.
“Jungkook,” you said slowly, voice tighter than you meant, “I haven’t been with anyone. I’m just around people. It’s a shared workspace. I don’t know what it is you’re picking up on, but I swear—that’s all it is.”
For a second, he didn’t speak. But something flickered behind his eyes—doubt or something close to it—and then he muttered under his breath, too low and bitter to ignore, “It’s like you’re meeting up with someone and just don’t want to admit it.”
You froze.
The words struck like ice water down your spine. The silence after was deafening. You blinked at him, stunned. “What?”
The air shifted. Dense. Sharp-edged.
A humorless laugh slipped out before you could stop it—dry and disbelieving. “So you do think I’m cheating.”
Jungkook looked away, jaw tight. “No. It’s not intense enough for that.”
As if that made it better. The sting bloomed sharp in your chest, creeping through your ribs like frost. “But you thought about it,” you said quietly, the disbelief slowly cracking into hurt. “You stood there and let your mind go there. About me.”
He didn’t answer. And that silence? That’s what made it worse.
You shook your head, heart pounding unevenly. “Well, lucky me. Three years together, and that’s all the trust I get. I’ve been exhausted, Jungkook. Stressed. Nauseous. Burned out from work and barely sleeping. I smell things I can’t explain and I don’t even know what’s going on with me anymore.”
You looked up at him, eyes shining, voice shaking now with more pain than anger.
“But instead of asking me what’s wrong—really wrong—you decided I must be sneaking around behind your back?” Your voice cracked at the end, raw and real. “God, Jungkook… I thought we were stronger than this.”
He ran a hand through his hair, breathing deeply, trying to keep control. But his instincts were louder than his logic. He could smell the shift in you. Not betrayal. But something—unknown. And unknown made him paranoid.
You turned toward the front door, snatching your coat. “You know what? I need air.”
“Wait—” He grabbed your wrist, gently, but you jerked away.
“Don’t,” you said sharply. “Not when you look at me like… like that.”
And just like that, the door closed behind you.
──── ୨୧ ────
Jungkook stared at the door long after you left. His hands shook. Not from rage—but from shame. His wolf hated your absence. It clawed at his insides, restless and irritated without your scent close. That was the thing—your scent had changed, but it was still you. Still comforting under all the new layers. He should’ve trusted it. Trusted you.
Jungkook sank onto the couch, elbows on his knees, hands tangled in his hair. The apartment was too quiet. The echo of your voice still lingered in the corners—hurt, tired, angry. And he hated himself for putting it there.
His phone buzzed against the coffee table.
Mom 🐺
He hesitated, then picked up.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hey, baby, do you and Y/N wanna come over next Sunday for dinner? I can make the potato thing she likes?” her voice was warm. Jungkook hesitates again before deciding humming might be the better option. But his mom picked up on this. “You sound like shit. What happened?”
He let out a tired breath. “I screwed up.”
She went quiet. Just long enough for him to hear the shift—the mom tone. “What did you do?”
Jungkook leaned back, head hitting the wall behind him. “I don’t even know. She’s been… different. For weeks now. I didn’t notice it right away, just—her scent changed. Not bad. Just not hers. And she’s been distant, tired, stressed. I thought maybe something was going on. Not cheating—I didn’t smell that. But something.”
“You told her that?” his mom asked flatly.
“Not like that. I just—I asked. Wrong time. Wrong words. She walked out.”
Another pause. Then—
“You absolute dumbass.”
Jungkook blinked. “Mom?”
“No, seriously. You’re an idiot!”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Shut up and listen to me for five seconds.” Her voice cut sharp, but underneath was concern. “You said she’s been tired?”
“Yeah.”
“Also, Nauseous?”
“Sometimes, yeah. And she’s moody, emotional—”
“And you said her scent changed slowly. Not overnight. Not with perfume. Gradual.”
“…Yeah.”
“Jungkook.” She said his name like he was six years old again, about to touch a hot stove. “What’s one reason—one very common, very obvious reason—a woman’s scent would shift like that over weeks?”
He opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
“Think, sweetheart,” she said, voice softening just enough to crack him open. “Hormonal changes. Body heat rising. Emotional spikes. Fatigue, Nausea—ring any damn bells, Jungkook?”
His heart started racing. “You think…?”
“You’re a werewolf, Jungkook. You can track deer for miles by a change in wind, but you couldn’t tell your own mate might be pregnant?”
His stomach dropped.
The puzzle pieces locked into place with terrifying clarity. The foreign scent. The nausea. The shifts in mood. Her exhaustion. The scents she picked up on. The way she couldn’t explain what was happening either.
“Oh my god.”
“Yeah,” his mom said bluntly. “Oh my god. Now get your sorry ass off that couch and go find her.”
He ran a hand over his face. “But what if she—”
“She didn’t leave you, Kook. She left the fight. Big difference. You pushed her when she needed you. So fix it.” Jungkook stood so fast his phone nearly dropped. His chest burned with adrenaline and something dangerously close to fear.
Fear of losing you. Fear of what he’d said.
And now—fear that he hadn’t seen the most important thing growing right in front of him.
He was already at the door, heart slamming in his chest sweater in hand.
“I’m gonna fix it.”
“You’d better,” his mom said. Then, gentler, “And bring her to dinner. She’s going to need a lot of love soon.”
──── ୨୧ ────
It took Jungkook hours to find you. His clothes were damp from running through the drizzle, his phone battery was nearly dead, and he’d checked every place you might go just to be alone. Jungkook had nearly torn his hair out retracing your usual routes. But when he spotted you through the fogged window of the 24/7 diner, sitting in a booth with your head resting against the glass, something inside him buckled.
You looked exhausted.
Eyes closed. Shoulders slumped. You looked like you’d been holding yourself together with sheer will. And all he could think was I did that. That’s on me. He moved slowly, heart pounding louder with every step until it was all he could hear.
You didn’t flinch when he slid into the seat across from you. Didn’t say a word. Just opened your eyes and stared at the window like you couldn’t quite bear to look at him yet. Only the soft hum of the diner, the clatter of dishes and distant rain filled the silence between you.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, voice rough at the edges.
You finally turned to look at him. Eyes bloodshot, lips pressed in a thin line. It wasn’t anger on your face—it was exhaustion. Sadness. It was enough to make his chest ache. He raked a hand through his damp hair, frustrated with himself. “I... I think I know why your scent changed.”
Your expression shifted, faint irritation flickering across it—already done with that conversation. But then he said something you didn’t expect.
“I think you’re pregnant.”
Your heart stopped. Your eyes snapped fully open, sharp and wide as they locked onto his. “I…What?”
He swallowed, throat tight, gaze fixed on your face like he was afraid you’d vanish. “Pregnancy…” he started, voice low, “…changes scent. Especially to wolves. It shifts something in the way you carry yourself, your hormones, your heat. It’s subtle, but it’s there. It’s why I couldn’t place it. Because it wasn’t some other person, or stranger, or danger. It was you. Still you. Just… changing—enough to throw me off.”
He let out a shaky breath and leaned forward, elbows on the table. “And I was too much of an idiot to realize what my instincts were actually trying to tell me. I didn’t recognize it, and instead of using my head, I let it mess with me. I hurt you. That’s on me.”
You didn’t speak. Not yet. You weren’t even sure if you could. Your throat felt tight. Your heart beat in your ears. And suddenly everything felt too real. Tears stung behind your eyes, uninvited and fast.
Pregnant?
The word rang like a bell inside you.
You wanted to tell him he was wrong. That it was just stress. Or hormones. Or burnout.
But deep down… You knew.
You’d missed two periods. You’d been nauseous in waves. You couldn’t stomach the smell of coffee anymore. You’d nearly cried watching a dog food commercial last night. You were tired all the time. And now, hearing it out loud—you were scared.
You and Jungkook had been together for years. You loved him, completely. Would you want a future with him? Yes.
But this?
This felt like stepping off a cliff with your eyes closed.
“I—I missed my period,” you admitted softly. “I just… I thought it was the stress. I’m getting a test tomorrow.”
Jungkook nodded once, firm. “Can I come with you?”
You looked down at his fingers. “Even after everything?”
“I’ll spend forever making it up to you if I have to.”
You looked at him for a long time. Then nodded.
“This wasn’t planned,” you said, voice tight. “I don’t even know if it’s real yet, and I don’t know what it means. I mean, we’ve talked about the future but—this is huge. I don’t even know if you’ve ever wanted—”
“You’re my mate,” Jungkook said, interrupting gently but firmly. “Whatever comes with you? I’m in it.” You looked up at him sharply, stunned.
He went on, voice lower now, more controlled. “I want you,” he said. “All of it. Even if I didn’t know this was coming. Even if it scares the shit out of me. I’ve been so caught up in stress and instincts and work and just… being stupid. But you’re not alone in this. You won’t be. No matter what happens next.” He exhaled like a drowning man breaking surface. “I’m sorry. I should’ve trusted you. I do trust you. I was just scared. And stupid.”
You blinked, startled by how steady he sounded. A tear rolled down your cheek. You swiped it away quickly, but Jungkook reached across the table, palm open. You hesitated, then placed your hand in his. His fingers curled around yours instantly. Warm. Solid.
Safe.
Neither of you spoke for a while. The rain kept falling outside. But something—maybe everything—between you had finally started to settle. He leaned over and pressed his forehead to yours, warm and close and home.
And for the first time in weeks, he breathed you in without confusion—only awe.
You didn’t smell wrong.
You smelled like the future.
A/N: Hi! Just wanted to mention that I use ChatGPT and DeepL to clean up grammar and spelling in my writing. English is my second language, and this tools help me share stories the way I imagine them, without spending hours double-checking every word. Writing is just a hobby I enjoy after a full workweek—I’m not trying to make money from it. If you’re curious or have thoughts on it, I’d love to have a friendly discussion!
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