Sunflower

by jonghyunslisterine

Summary:

Jimin's parents tell him he's getting married to Min Yoongi.

Everything changes.

Notes:

okay here we gooo!!! the tags make the fic sound wilder than it is i think. here's the fic playlist

thank you very very much to nav and cat for looking over this!!! ♡♡♡

please please check out this stunning artwork by jo for this fic!!! T_T

Chapter 1

When Jimin’s parents tell him he’s getting married, all he can bring himself to think is that he really, really doesn’t like French food. 

It isn’t that he refuses to focus on the conversation. It’s more that the turn the conversation takes is so unexpected his brain takes an extra three minutes to process it, and in those three minutes, he takes a bite of beef stewed in red wine, and decides he hates French food. But the restaurant his parents have brought him to is ridiculously expensive, on the top floor of a hotel with windows that stretch to the ceiling. The view is pretty, at least, Seoul’s night lights spread out before them. So he doesn’t like the food, but he doesn’t really have room to complain either. 

“Jimin?” his mother presses, and his brain finally decides to play catch-up. 

His mouth falls open in a way that isn’t at all suited to the atmosphere of a ridiculously expensive restaurant on the top floor of a ridiculously expensive hotel. He sets his fork down deliberately. Glances around like maybe he’s dreaming and he’ll blink and wake up in his dingy two-room apartment where Hoseok’s always snoring a little too loud. The restaurant’s patrons continue to eat and sip at their wine, making muffled conversation, and no one disappears. 

Jimin clears his throat. “I’m sorry?”

“You know we have dealt closely with the Min family since before you were even born,” his father says. “A union only makes sense.”

Jimin blinks. Union. Marriage. Mating. A stranger - 

“We didn’t discuss it until now, but it was always an implicit understanding between our families,” his mother adds. “Their eldest is an alpha, and ours is an omega. It only makes sense.”

Makes sense, makes sense, makes sense. They keep saying that. Jimin’s unhelpful brain seems to be making very little sense of it. “So - so it’s Min Yoongi, you mean?”

His mother sighs like he’s slow on the uptake. “He’s their only alpha son, so yes, it’s Min Yoongi.”

“Did they already say yes?”

“We had an informal chat about it,” his father shrugs. “We’ll meet formally on Saturday.”

“We wanted to let you know first,” his mother adds. 

Let him know, not ask. Just let him know. Jimin sighs; he can’t say he didn’t expect this. As the omega son of a wealthy family like his, he always knew his marriage would be arranged to secure their business the best possible benefit. He never really expected anything else. His younger brother might have more say in the business side of things as an alpha, but it’ll be the same for him. 

“He’s the Min’s heir,” Jimin says dubiously. “I don’t really know anything about the business, I mean - ”

His mother waves him off. “You don’t need to know about business, you’re going to be his omega. He won’t expect you to take part in anything. At the most, you’ll be entertaining his guests.”

“Which is important,” his father insists, as if to make sure Jimin doesn’t think about fucking that up. “Everything you do will reflect on him from here on. You’ll no longer be a Park; you’ll be a Min.”

Jimin slumps in his seat, another probably heinous thing to do in a place like this. “Do I get to meet him?”

Not that he hasn’t met him before, but Jimin doesn’t attend many of his family’s business endeavours. He’s usually left out of that sort of thing. Still, he’s seen Min Yoongi around; like his father said, they’ve had dealings with the Min family forever. Their business centers around medical supplies, he thinks, and maybe they own some hospitals. Jimin has seen Yoongi in passing since he was a child, though they’ve never said more than two words to each other. 

Well, that isn’t entirely true. One time, Jimin had been invited to a dinner at his parents’ house where the Min family, among others, were in attendance. He’d been dangling half-off a balcony reaching for his mother’s cat when Yoongi had leaned over the railing from the floor above and asked him if he was an idiot.

“Of course,” his mother soothes. “After the engagement, you’re free to meet him whenever you’d like.”

“When’s the engagement?”

“Saturday, when we all meet.”

“Saturday,” Jimin repeats. The impending doom settles on his shoulders. “They’re not going to make me quit school, are they?”

His father scoffs. “Do you think they want their son to mate a dropout?”

“No,” Jimin mumbles. “How long are we going to be engaged before we marry?”

“We’ll discuss that formally with his parents on Saturday,” his mother says, “but these things usually don’t take long. We don’t want to drag it out. I imagine it won’t be more than a year.”

“Enough time to prepare for the wedding,” his father agrees, and Jimin scrunches his face to hold in a groan. Of course the wedding’s going to have to be some lavish affair. 

“Don’t make a face,” his mother admonishes. “You’re lucky you’re marrying someone like Min Yoongi. Anyone would be dying to be in your position.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Finish your food,” his father says. “I have a meeting to get to.”

Jimin sighs and returns to his expensive French meal.

❦

Jimin might be the eldest son of one of South Korea’s wealthier families, but he’s never really grown up feeling like a wealthy heir. An eldest son born as an omega isn’t the most ideal situation for a family like his, so they’d promptly carted him off to live with his paternal grandmother after he was born. Despite spending most of her life as the matriarch of the Park family before she passed the torch onto her son, Jimin’s grandmother had become surprisingly normal in her old age. 

She lived in a small apartment and yelled at Jimin if he spent too much money and thought the pricey restaurants his parents had most of their business dealings in were stuffy. He’d grown up feeling fairly middle class except for the allowance his parents gave his grandmother to take care of him - sometimes he bought himself Yves Saint Laurent sunglasses, but other than that, he didn’t feel particularly rich.

His parents didn’t involve him in their business, either, given that he was an omega. After his little brother was born an alpha, all the responsibility fell to Jihyun, and their parents checked on Jimin even less. He was almost entirely under his grandmother’s tutelage. Most of Jimin’s life had passed separate from his family’s world. He only dips his toes in sometimes, when his parents bother to invite him to a dinner or a cocktail party. 

So he hadn’t quite forgotten that he was going to have to marry some rich alpha one day, except that he had kind of forgotten. And when he bursts through the front door of his apartment the night of the dinner to tell Hoseok, he can tell by the look on Hoseok’s face that he’d forgotten, too.

“W-what?” Hoseok says, looking in danger of dropping the full glass of water he’s holding. 

Jimin kicks off his Armani Oxfords, which he saves precisely for dinner with his parents, and snatches the glass out of Hoseok’s hands. He sets it safely on the counter. “I’m getting married to a Min,” he repeats. 

“I don’t know the significance of that,” Hoseok says, though he still looks like a deer caught in headlights. 

“He’s like, really rich and stuff,” Jimin clarifies. “Big family like mine.”

Hoseok’s eyes widen impossibly further. “Like y-yours?” he stammers, and now he looks distinctly afraid. “Oh my god, is he - you know - ”

Jimin’s eyes widen to match Hoseok’s. He hadn’t thought about that. “Fuck,” he breathes. “You’re right, he’s probably even got the tattoos - ”

“No.” Hoseok looks like he’s about to pass out. Jimin leads him over to the couch. 

That’s the other thing. Jimin’s family isn’t just rich. They’re also shady .

Jimin sits down next to Hoseok, wrinkling his snazzy suit, and slumps back with a groan. Then he shoots up, another realization hitting him. “Oh my god, I forgot to ask how old he is.”

“Hold on, I haven’t moved on from him having the tattoos - ”

“I think he’s older,” Jimin says, horrified, thinking back to the times they’d met. “He’s definitely older. What if he’s, like, 35?”

“I don’t see how him being 35 is worse than him being part of the fucking mafia ,” Hoseok’s voice drops on the last word, and he glances around him like he’s afraid someone’s listening in as they speak. 

“I’m technically part of the mafia,” Jimin deadpans.

“Yeah, but you’re - ” Hoseok makes some sort of strangled noise, waving him away. “And he’s - ” He makes another strangled noise. 

“Yeah,” Jimin says despondently. “He’s the Alpha heir. He’s probably right in the middle of all of it.”

“At least you like older guys,” Hoseok sighs. 

“Okay, but not 35 . That’s too much.”

“Oh, you’ve got a limit now?”

“Shut up,” Jimin whines. He flops around on the couch and turns himself around so he can dangle his head off the side. “I can’t believe I’m going to get married. I have to organize his fucking dinner parties and go to events with him, I’m basically his trophy wife - ”

Hoseok pats his thigh. “You’re definitely hot enough to be a trophy wife.”

“Thanks,” Jimin sniffles. 

“So when is this all going down?”

“We’re getting engaged on Saturday.”

“Saturday?” Hoseok shrieks. “That’s in a week!”

“I know,” Jimin says despondently. All the blood is rushing to his head. He hopes he passes out. Maybe when he wakes up, the whole world will have disappeared. “What do I even wear? What do people wear when they’re getting engaged?”

“Couldn’t you just wear this?” Hoseok says dubiously. “It’s fancy enough, and your ass looks great.”

“Does it matter if my ass looks great?” Jimin says, dangling his arms above his head too. “He has to marry me whether my ass looks great or not.”

“Nothing wrong with a good first impression.”

“Is he even going to appreciate my ass, hyung?”

“If he doesn’t, I’ll do it for you.” Hoseok manhandles him onto his stomach and smacks his ass twice for emphasis, ignoring Jimin’s shriek. 

Jimin falls limp, falling halfway off the couch, and sighs. Hoseok sighs, too. 

“I know I’m joking around,” Hoseok mumbles. “But I’m actually really scared.”

Jimin coos, sitting up properly so he can wrap his arms around Hoseok. Maybe he should be scared, too, but it hasn’t really sunk in yet. And it’s a little different for him than it is for Hoseok. Hoseok grew up in a regular family; Jimin has always known he’d marry the alpha his parents chose for him. 

“Maybe he’s nice,” Jimin mumbles, but even as he says it, he hears how disbelieving he sounds.

The problem is, Min Yoongi already has way too many counts against him for Jimin to believe he’ll be nice.

1. He’s an alpha. When are alphas ever really nice?
2. He’s an alpha who’s the heir of a wealthy family. When are rich alphas ever nice?
3. He’s an alpha who’s the heir of a wealthy crime family. That one’s self-explanatory. 
4. He told Jimin he was an idiot once. Jimin’s still mad about that. 
5. From what Jimin remembers, Min Yoongi’s actually pretty hot. Hot people aren’t usually nice either (except for Jimin himself, but he’s special). 

“If he isn’t nice, I’ll kill him,” Hoseok huffs. “I’m not scared of some mob boss.”

Jimin snorts. Hoseok’s scared of his shadow. “He’s not really a mob boss.”

“Whatever.”

“It’ll be fine,” Jimin says firmly, both to reassure Hoseok and himself. “Being a trophy wife could be fun. I can make him buy me whatever I want. I just have to look pretty and spread gossip about his enemies. I can do that.”

“You can do that,” Hoseok agrees, though he still sounds upset. They sit there in quiet silence for a moment, curled against each other. “My little Jiminie’s really getting married, huh?”

“Don’t get sappy on me, hyung.”

“You’re so young,” Hoseok sniffles. “You haven’t even graduated yet.”

“I’ll be fine, hyung.”

“You’re going to have to give him pups .”

Jimin shudders. “You’re supposed to be comforting me, not reminding me of all the things I hadn’t thought about.”

“Sorry, sorry.”

“I mean, I like kids.” Jimin’s voice comes out small. 

“You’d be a great mom.”

The silence hits them again, filled with all the doubts they’re afraid to bring to light. Jimin’s getting married. He swallows, squeezing his eyes shut, and tightens his arm around Hoseok’s for comfort. 

❦

In the end, he doesn’t actually have to worry about his outfit at all. His parents send a car over on Saturday morning with everything he needs and a stylist to do his hair and makeup. Hoseok stands in the hallway with a bag of chips and watches as the stylist fiddles with Jimin’s hair and spends an absurd amount of time on his eyes. 

He does look good after all her fussing, and Hoseok tells him so with an encouraging ass-pat to accompany the compliment. Once he’s ready, he’s ushered into the car and driven over to Yoongi’s family home in Seongbuk. Jimin supposes he should be nervous but he isn’t. Everything feels rather distant. 

Traffic’s a bitch but the driver seems to have anticipated that because they left early enough to make it right on time. He opens the door to let Jimin out, and Jimin stretches his stiff limbs and pats down his hair before approaching the door. The bell at the gate must have alerted them to his arrival; a maid opens the front door as soon as he walks up. 

He’s never been to the Min house before, but he came to a dinner party in Seongbuk once, so the sleek architecture isn’t new to him. He finds all the grey walls and sleek glass kind of dull, though he has to admit the inside of the Min house is impressive as he follows the maid to the living room. 

There’s a stream of water inlaid in the floor, and they cross over a tiny wooden bridge to reach the living room. The windows stretch to the ceiling, looking over the grassy patio. Yoongi’s parents and Jimin’s parents have taken up the white couches, sipping on wine, and Yoongi sits in an armchair by himself. 

“Ah, there he is,” Yoongi’s mother, Inhye, says, raising her wine glass in his direction. “Jimin-ah, you look beautiful, sweetheart.”

He supposes he’s met them enough times for the familiarity. He bows, makes a show of shying away from the praise because he knows that’s what she expects. Yoongi stands up to greet him, stopping with a foot between them. They’re about the same height; Jimin had never paid enough attention to him to notice that. He fills out his sleek black suit nicely, no tie, the top of his patterned shirt unbuttoned to show off a hint of his chest and the silver chain he’s wearing. 

At least he’s handsome, Jimin thinks to himself with a sigh. 

“Jimin-ssi,” Yoongi says, holding his hand out. 

Jimin takes it, shaking his firmly. He bows slightly, and Yoongi returns it. “Good to see you again, Yoongi-ssi.”

“Come, sit.” Jimin’s mother pats the space next to her. He takes the seat, shaking his head when they offer him a glass of wine. His mother had warned him earlier to keep the drinking to a minimum. 

“How was the drive over?” Yoongi’s father, Chiwon, asks. 

“Seoul traffic,” Jimin says, scrunching his nose. “You know how it is.”

Inhye makes a sympathetic noise. “Poor baby, you must be tired. Are you sure you don’t want any wine?” She moves to pour him a glass, but he shakes his head. 

“I’m fine, thank you.”

She coos, turning to his mother. “Isn’t he sweet?”

Jimin’s mother waves off the praise with a practiced smile.

“How about some juice, then? Water?”

“Water is fine,” he acquiesces just so she’ll stop asking. 

She gestures for the maid, who disappears and returns in a moment with a tray holding a glass of water. Jimin takes it with a murmured thank you . 

“Well, we all know why we’re here,” Chiwon starts with a laugh that everyone politely joins in on. “Shall we get started?”

“Of course,” Jimin’s father agrees. “Let’s get the ball rolling.”

Jimin doesn’t know how to ask in a way that’s polite, so he lowers his voice, leaning toward his mother. “Where’s Jihyun?” Everyone hears him anyway. 

“He had a meeting,” his mother murmurs. “He’s very sad he couldn’t make it.”

“Oh.” Jimin’s a little disappointed. He’s getting engaged; he’d kind of hoped his little brother would be there. 

“We’re very happy to have you joining our family,” Inhye cuts in, perhaps sensing it. 

Jimin ducks his head, smiling. “Thank you. I’m honored to be a part of it.”

“We have something for you,” Chiwon says, gesturing to another maid who’s been standing at the back holding a box.

Jimin doesn’t have to feign his look of surprise when he takes the box from her and sets it in his lap. He glances up for confirmation before his mother nods and he opens it. It’s a set of jewelry: thin, delicate diamond hoops and a matching diamond choker. They’re stunning, and he’s sure they cost a fortune.

“Oh,” Jimin breathes, running his fingers along the choker. “This is gorgeous, thank you so much.”

“This is too much,” his mother insists, and Jimin nods vigorously. “Inhye, please.”

She brushes off their protests. “Nothing is too much for our future son-in-law.” She reaches out and cups Jimin’s cheek delicately. “You’ll have to send us your measurements so we can have some suits made for you.”

“Shall we exchange the rings?” Jimin’s father suggests to a round of agreement. Jimin dares to glance over at Yoongi, who’s been quiet up until now. He looks bored. 

“Yoongi,” Inhye says, and Yoongi removes a tiny box from his pocket.

Next to him, Jimin’s mother presses a matching box into his hand. As the omega’s side, his family doesn’t have to do much in terms of gifts and wedding financing, so the ring has to be chosen very carefully. Jimin hasn’t seen it yet. His parents hadn’t bothered asking him about it either. 

Yoongi stands and Jimin follows, stopping a careful distance before him. Jimin holds out his hand, and Yoongi opens the box. He slips out the ring - it’s dark gold with a diamond accent running through it, a thick band. He takes Jimin’s hand in his and slips it unceremoniously onto his finger, only glancing at him briefly. 

It’s a pretty ring. Jimin opens his box next; the ring his parents have chosen for Yoongi is even thicker than his own with a large black diamond inlaid on top. Yoongi’s hand is bigger than his, his knuckles wider and palms calloused. Jimin slips the ring on quickly, feeling a little nervous. Yoongi smells good. He’s never noticed that before - maybe they’ve never been close long enough for him to notice. His scent is a little like sandalwood. 

Yoongi holds his hand out, formed into a loose fist with the inside of his wrist facing upward. Jimin’s stomach lurches, heart jumping into his chest. He’d forgotten about this part. Avoiding Yoongi’s gaze, Jimin holds his own arm out, pressing his wrist against Yoongi’s. It’s a mild form of scenting common at engagements, but the intimacy makes Jimin blush. 

He pulls away before Yoongi can, trying hard not to think about the way their scents mix: Jimin’s lavender with Yoongi’s sandalwood. They step away from each other. Their parents praise and simper. Jimin glances up at him; he’s looking back. Somebody off to the side is snapping a few photos. 

“We have the finances to discuss,” Yoongi’s father says, and of course that’s the real reason they’re here today. They’ll have to talk about property and inheritance and all that nonsense that comes along with a marriage. “Why don’t you two stay here and chat? We’ll meet again at dinner.”

He stands, gesturing to the others, and they take their wine glasses with them as they filter from the room, patting the two of them on the shoulders as they go. For a moment, Yoongi and Jimin linger in uncomfortable silence. 

Then, “‘Scuse me,” Yoongi mutters, markedly less polite than he’d been in front of their parents. He passes Jimin to go out to the patio, leaving him there alone. 

Jimin turns, watching him through the glass. He’s lighting a cigarette. Jimin sighs. He doesn’t really want to marry Yoongi, but he’s resigned to the fact. He wonders if Yoongi hasn’t made peace with it yet. If maybe he’d wanted to marry someone else. 

Jimin shoves his hands in the pockets of his slacks and follows Yoongi onto the patio. The door swings shut behind him, and he leans against the wall by Yoongi’s side. Yoongi shoots him a sideways glance. 

“How old are you?” Jimin asks. 

Yoongi snorts. “Older than you.”

“I figured that. How old?” Jimin presses. “30? 35?”

Yoongi’s lip curls. He takes a drag of his cigarette before he answers. “Do I look 35 to you?”

Jimin shrugs. 

“28.”

“Oh,” Jimin says, relieved. “That’s not too bad.”

“Look,” Yoongi says, his voice gone from disinterested to hard. “I don’t know what illusions you have in regards to this, but I’m really not interested in marriage. I’m doing this because our parents want a merger.”

Jimin bristles at the implication that because he’s an omega he must have some romantic dreams of marrying a rich alpha like Yoongi. “You think I’m interested?” he huffs. “I thought you were 35.”

Yoongi shoots him an unimpressed look. “I don’t care what you think. We clear on that?”

Jimin scoffs in pure disbelief. “You’re an asshole.” 

“I know,” he says easily. He stubs his cigarette out under his foot. “If you’re not interested either, then this’ll be easy. You stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours. Deal?”

He holds out his hand.

Jimin glares at it, then glares at him. “Deal,” he mutters, and takes his hand to seal it.

Chapter 2

Staying out of each other’s way turns out to be much more difficult than anticipated. Their parents have decided to throw them an engagement party, which Jimin should have seen coming. For reasons unfathomable to him, they’ve also decided they want him and Yoongi to be the ones who meet with the party planner. 

So they meet on a Friday afternoon at the planner’s office, and Yoongi nods a half-hearted hello in Jimin’s direction when they run into each other on the sidewalk. Jimin’s parents had apparently sent a car but hadn’t told Jimin in advance; he’d ended up hopping on the bus before the car even got there and only found out when he received a nervous phone call from the driver half an hour later. Coming straight from class, he’s dressed in a t-shirt and overalls with a speck of paint on them. Yoongi looks like he’s come right out of the office. He’s wearing a suit. Jimin sniffs; show-off. 

The planner works them through the most minute of details - curtain colors, music style, flower arrangements. Jimin’s head spins at the various samples she shows them, everything fancy and expensive in a way he isn’t accustomed to. He’s been to just enough of his parents’ parties to understand the gist of what it will be like, but it isn’t quite enough to feel comfortable. 

Despite being an artist, Jimin has absolutely no interest in the color of their napkins or the font on the invitations. There are a million ways he could be spending his Friday afternoon, and planning an engagement party with a guy he doesn’t even know isn’t on the list. But here’s the thing - Grandma Park raised Jimin to be polite.

Apparently Yoongi never learned how. 

“This one or this one?” Jimin’s asking, pointing at the two shades he and the planner have narrowed down to for the invitation color. 

Yoongi’s staring at his phone, as he has been for most of the meeting. He doesn’t glance up. Jimin isn’t sure he’s even listening. Jimin could pick the color on his own, sure, doubts Yoongi would care either way, but it’s the principle of the thing. They’re both getting engaged. Jimin isn’t about to let Yoongi fling all of the responsibilities on him while he does absolutely nothing. 

“Yoongi-ssi,” Jimin says through gritted teeth. “Which color?”

Yoongi glances up. He doesn’t look at the colors; his gaze lands on Jimin, then shifts back to his phone. “Whichever.”

Jimin closes his eyes briefly and inhales through his nose. When he opens them, he points at one of the colors. “This one’s pretty.”

The planner makes a note. She’s been wisely ignoring the tension between Yoongi and Jimin. “Let me grab the catalog of caterers so you can take a look at where you might want to order from,” she suggests, ducking out of the office. 

Jimin turns a glare on Yoongi as soon as they’re alone. “Can you at least pretend to be interested?”

“I’m bad at pretending,” Yoongi says, lazily flicking through his phone. Jimin’s beginning to think he isn’t even doing anything useful on there. 

“There’s a lot to get done,” Jimin presses. “We can get through everything quicker if you cooperate - ”

“The exact shade of pastel purple that our curtains need to be might be of interest to you, sweetheart, but I really do not care.”

His voice is an arrogant drawl. Jimin bristles, hands clenched into fists at his sides. “You think I care about any of this shit?” he hisses. “We have to be here. The sooner we make decisions, the faster we can be out of here.”

“You seem to be making decisions just fine.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Yoongi says easily, his gaze finally flickering back up to Jimin. It’s impassive. 

Jimin splutters. “You’re - you’re unbelievable,” he starts, and the door opens before he can say anything further. 

“If you could pick a location, I can go ahead and make some phone calls now so we can discuss options.”

“That sounds great, thanks.” Jimin plasters a smile onto his face, taking the catalog she hands him and trying to breathe through his irritation. He flips through with slightly greater interest than anything else; if he’s going to suffer through the party, he wants to at least enjoy the food. He doesn’t bother asking Yoongi if he has any preferences. 

Jimin ends up picking a restaurant with some featured menu items that have his mouth watering just looking at them. 

“Great,” the planner beams. “You can wait in the lobby while I make the calls if you’d like. There’s coffee and tea.”

Jimin nods and stands. 

“Actually,” Yoongi says, rising next to him. “I have to run to a meeting, so I’ll be heading out.”

He nods to the planner, spares a curt nod for Jimin, and leaves. Jimin tries not to visibly huff and puff on his way out to the lobby until the office door shuts behind him. Then he plops into a large chair with a scowl, grumbling to himself, and grabs a magazine off the side table arbitrarily. He’s flipping through it when someone two chairs over clears his throat. 

Jimin glances up, cheeks turning warm. He hadn’t realized the lobby wasn’t empty. The guy sitting there has a sideways smile, dark hair parted over his forehead. He’s dressed up, too, fitted slacks and a button-up that hugs his large biceps and broad shoulders nicely. He hasn’t buttoned it all the way, leaving it open enough to see hints of his smooth chest and a gold chain around his neck. Jimin blushes a little harder. He’s probably got the sharpest jawline Jimin’s ever seen, fit to cut glass. 

“Was that your mate walking out the door just now?” he asks. 

“Fiancé,” he corrects, and the guy raises his eyebrows in interest. 

“You’re Jimin, then? Park Jimin?”

“How do you know?” Jimin says, startled. He’s pretty sure they’ve never met before; he’d remember a face like that. 

“I know your fiancé,” he says, a hint of dryness to his tone. “We’re, uh, acquainted.”

“Oh,” Jimin mumbles. So it’s probably a business thing. 

“Jaebum,” he introduces, holding his hand out for Jimin to shake. “Im Jaebum. Nice to meet you.”

Jimin takes it. Jaebum’s grip is firm, his fingers calloused, and Jimin catches a whiff of his scent when he leans in to take it. He smells like alpha, though Jimin had already guessed that. His scent is nice, fresh and minty, and Jimin inhales a little deeper. “Nice to meet you, too,” he says rather shyly. 

“Where was Yoongi-ssi running off to, leaving you all alone here?” his voice drips with honey, a playful curl to his lips, and Jimin finds himself feeling even shyer. He’s curling up without realizing it, making himself small, playing with a strap of his overalls that’s slipped off his shoulder. 

“He had a meeting.”

Jaebum clucks his tongue. “Should have rescheduled,” he says decidedly. 

The office door opens, and the planner pokes her head out. “Jimin-ssi, I’m on the phone with the caterers and realized I forgot to ask - how many courses?”

Jimin flounders. He has no idea how many courses would be appropriate, just knows that every time he goes to a party, there’s tons to eat. 

“Engagement party, I’m guessing?” Jaebum says, and Jimin nods. “Go with four. Five’s for the wedding.”

“Okay. Four, please,” Jimin tells the planner. She smiles and ducks back into her office. Fancy a stranger being more helpful than his own fiancé. “Thanks, Jaebum-ssi.”

“No problem,” he says easily. "I've seen your brother around, but I don't think we've ever met?" He sounds curious about the fact, though Jimin imagines it's no secret that the Park family had essentially hidden away their useless omega eldest.

"I'm more focused on school," Jimin says evasively. "My brother's the one who’s more invested in the company. I think I might have met your mother once, though."

He laughs. "Probably. She likes to be everywhere."

"What are you here for?"

"Just stopped by to pick up some samples for my cousin. She's planning some big party."

Jimin eyes him curiously. "That's awfully nice of you." He can't remember his parents ever bothering to pick something up in-person. They always have people to send.

"I was in the area," Jaebum shrugs. "How long have you and Yoongi-ssi been engaged? Not long, I'm guessing?"

Jimin shakes his head, then eyes him again. "How did you know about that, by the way? I figured it wouldn't be announced until the invitations are sent."

Jaebum shrugs again, flashing a smile. "News travels."

Jimin hums, though he can tell Jaebum is being evasive, too. The planner emerges from her office and asks Jimin to step back in so they can finalize a few things and discuss what they'll have in place for their next meeting.

"Hope to see Yoongi-ssi there," says the planner, and Jimin smiles tightly.

He steps back into the lobby, and Jaebum stands at the sight of him. "Leaving?"

"Yeah. It was nice meeting you."

"Likewise. Did Yoongi-ssi send a car for you?"

"I was just gonna take the bus," Jimin starts, but Jaebum frowns.

"I can have my driver drop you off wherever you need to go."

"Oh, no, there's no need for that." Jimin holds his hands up. Jaebum might be nice, but Jimin isn't about to get in a car with a stranger.

"Really, it's no problem - "

Jimin shakes his head firmly. "Thanks, I appreciate it. But I'll get back myself."

Jaebum gives in, though he looks reluctant. He holds his hand out. “Can I put my number in for you?”

Jimin blinks up at him, surprised. He fishes his phone out of his pocket anyway and hands out to him.

Jaebum keys his number in and returns it. “If Yoongi-ssi ever ditches you again, hit me up,” Jaebum says. Jimin wonders if there’s really something flirty about his gaze or if he’s imagining it. “I’ll take care of you.”

Jimin swallows. Definitely flirting, then. He waves and books it out the door, phone burning a hole in his pocket.

❦

“I think he was flirting,” Jimin says, hanging upside down off the couch again. Hoseok’s sitting on the ground organizing his planner with his usual efficient detail. 

“That’s kind of shady,” Hoseok muses. “He knows you’re engaged.”

“Yeah,” Jimin sighs. “It doesn’t really feel like a real engagement though.”

“He doesn’t know that.”

“I think he figured it out by the way Yoongi walked out,” Jimin mutters.

Hoseok winces. “That bad, huh?”

“He’s a dick. I don’t know how I’m gonna put up with him for the rest of my life.”

“I’m guessing trying to find a way out of the engagement is out of the question.”

“I think it is,” Jimin mumbles. “I dunno, feuds get really nasty between families like these. I don’t wanna start one. And anyway, my parents would kill me.”

“You shouldn’t have to give up your happiness just to keep from starting a feud,” Hoseok sets his planner down, giving Jimin his full attention. “That’s not fair.”

“These feuds are serious, hyung. People die.” He shrugs. “I’ve always known I was gonna have an arranged marriage. It’s not like this was unexpected.”

“Still.”

Jimin sighs again. “Maybe he’s mean because he wanted to marry someone else.”

“That’s not your fault,” Hoseok huffs. “There’s no good reason for him to be mean to you. If you want me to kick his ass, I’ll kick his ass.”

“Hyung, you can’t kick anyone’s ass.”

“Give me some credit. I’m like those moms who lift cars off their babies when the adrenaline hits.”

“So you’re saying I’m your baby?”

“Exactly,” Hoseok beams.

“Anyway, enough about me. How are you feeling about the accounting final?”

“Like I’m ready to die,” Hoseok groans, resting his head atop his planner. 

The page he’s opened to is covered in his neat, tiny handwriting. Jimin couldn’t keep a planner if his life depended on it, but Hoseok loves the organization of it. They balance each other out well - Hoseok with his precise nature and Jimin with his more flighty one. Hoseok keeps Jimin grounded, and Jimin reminds Hoseok to relax. There’s a reason they’ve been best friends since middle school. 

“You’re gonna do great. You always do.”

“I’m going to fail, and then I won’t be able to graduate.”

Jimin snorts. “When was the last time you failed an exam?”

Hoseok’s silent. 

“That’s what I thought.” Jimin finally shifts to sit up properly, blood rushing from his head downwards, making him dizzy. “Although if you fail, you get to stay with me longer.”

“You’re getting married.”

Jimin’s the silent one this time. “I’m getting married,” he finally says, reminded once more of the weight of the decision his parents made for him. Hoseok graduating didn’t necessarily mean they’d be separated; they’d both sort of hoped he’d manage to find a job close enough that he didn’t have to move out. But Jimin getting married is a definite. And getting married means he’ll have to move out. 

❦

Jimin’s well aware that he’s scheduled to have tea at his parents’ house with Yoongi on a Wednesday afternoon. What he’s not aware of is that Yoongi is sent to pick him up. 

When Jimin emerges from the art building, a group of students huddles by the door. He catches a strain of their conversation as he shoves his things into his backpack, having rushed out of class too quick to do it when he realized he was running late. 

“Is someone in our major dating a chaebol ?” one of them says, and the others titter. 

“Bet they called him just to show-off, look at how he’s waiting.”

A sense of foreboding fills Jimin’s belly. No one had mentioned how he was supposed to get to his parents’ house. He’d just assumed he would take the bus like he always does. Almost unwilling to move, Jimin steps past the group of students and as expected, there’s Yoongi. He’s leaning against the passenger door of his sleek Lamborghini, arms crossed over his chest, dressed in an expensive suit as always. He’s even wearing sunglasses. 

Jimin considers booking it down the sidewalk and hoping Yoongi doesn’t see him, but just as he takes a step, Yoongi straightens and catches sight of him. Cheeks flaming with mortification, Jimin approaches him, hearing the group of students fall silent behind him. 

“Your mother said your class ended at 2,” Yoongi says. “It’s 2:30.”

“I was talking to my professor.” Jimin stops before him then wonders why he even has to explain himself. “What are you standing out here for?”

“Waiting for you,” Yoongi says it like it’s obvious.

“You could have waited in the car ,” Jimin hisses. “You’re embarrassing me.”

Yoongi looks momentarily blank, then his gaze shifts over to Jimin’s watching classmates, and he grows amused. “Embarrassing you? Please, they’ll be licking your boots for the rest of the semester.”

Jimin sputters, can’t even begin to argue when there’s so much wrong with the statement. Yoongi reaches out, ruffles his hair for the benefit of their audience, and clicks open the passenger door. It lifts up into the air, and Jimin seethes. 

“I’m taking the bus.”

“You gonna cause a scene?” One smooth eyebrow rises above his sunglasses. 

“Fuck you.”

“Give me your backpack.”

Jimin hands it over reluctantly and slides into the car, crossing his arms petulantly over his chest. In the side view mirror, Jimin watches him place his backpack in the trunk. Then he comes around to the driver’s seat and gets in, starting the car. He removes his suit jacket and slips it onto a hanger in the backseat. The doors lower shut. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?” Jimin demands. “You can’t just show up at my school like this.”

“I thought it was obvious I’d be picking you up,” Yoongi shrugs. The dash beeps, and he puts on his seatbelt. “Belt.”

“How would it be obvious? You didn’t pick me up when we went to the wedding planner.”

“We’re visiting your parents. That’s different.”

“Next time, I want a warning. No more showing off.”

Yoongi reaches across Jimin, and Jimin stiffens, the scent of sandalwood filling his nostrils. Yoongi runs hot like all alphas do, and Jimin can feel the heat of his body between them. He grabs the seatbelt and stretches it across Jimin’s chest, pushing it in with a click. The beeping stops, and Yoongi pulls onto the road.

Jimin’s too startled to keep arguing. He supposes, after a moment, that startling him was Yoongi’s intention. 

At a stoplight, Yoongi pushes his sleeves up to his elbows, and Jimin sees a hint of his tattoos. He stares at them curiously. Jimin has a clan tattoo, too, but just a small one; his brother’s the one with all the real tattoos. He wonders if he’ll have to get a tattoo for Yoongi’s clan once he marries him. 

“What’s your clan’s crest?” Jimin asks. 

“You don’t even know?” Yoongi says derisively. 

“In case you hadn’t realized, I’ve never been allowed a big role in the business.”

“My crest doesn’t have anything to do with business.”

Jimin glares at him, but Yoongi’s staring resolutely at the road, like he has little interest in the conversation. Finally, Jimin sits back, crossing his arms again. “Fine, don’t tell me.”

They sit in uncomfortable silence for a while, stuck in Seoul traffic, when Jimin realizes he hadn’t changed clothes. He’d intended on changing in the art building bathroom before leaving for the train, but he’d forgotten on his way out.

“I have to change,” Jimin blurts. 

This time, Yoongi looks at him. “What?”

“I have a change of clothes in my bag.”

“Where the hell am I supposed to stop so you can change?”

“I can’t show up to tea wearing this .” Jimin gestures to his unruly clothing. He’d been in a studio class, so he’s wearing clothes he didn’t mind getting messy. “Stop somewhere.”

“Change in the backseat.”

“I’m not getting naked with you in the car - ”

Yoongi shrugs. “We’re about to get married.” 

“Stop somewhere!”

Yoongi lets out a pained exhale. He pulls onto the shoulder, turning on his hazards. “The windows are tinted. I’ll get out. Change in the backseat.”

Jimin huffs. He climbs over the center console to get to the backseat anyway. “Get me my backpack.”

Yoongi exhales again, casting his gaze up to the roof of the car. Then he gets out. Jimin hears the trunk open, and after a moment, Yoongi tugs open the backdoor and tosses his backpack in. 

It’s a struggle getting dressed in the back, but Jimin manages. He climbs back into the front seat and rolls the window down. Yoongi’s standing off by the sidewalk, hands shoved in his pockets. “Done,” Jimin calls, and Yoongi returns. 

“You better not be this high maintenance after we get married,” Yoongi mutters, shoving his way back into traffic. 

“How am I high maintenance? I had to change my clothes.”

Yoongi grumbles something under his breath. Jimin leans against the car door, scowling. Maybe if they never talk to each other, they’ll survive their impending years of marriage. Jimin decides not to say anything unless Yoongi speaks first. 

They make their way to Jimin’s parents’ home in silence. Now that there’s no one to show off for, Yoongi doesn’t bother opening Jimin’s car door for him. Jimin follows him to the house, where one of his parents’ workers lets them in. His parents are waiting in the lounge, caught in a murmured discussion when Jimin and Yoongi enter. To Jimin’s pleasant surprise, Jihyun’s there, too. 

Jimin’s mother perks up at the sight of them. “There you are,” she says, although she doesn’t sound bothered that they’re late. Jimin figures out why as soon as she speaks again. “You two sure did take your time.”

There’s a knowing look in her eyes, and Jimin winces. His mother has always had the bad habit of thinking she knows more than she does. 

“Come, sit,” his father says, and Jihyun stands to greet Yoongi before sitting back down. 

There’s a couch open that’s clearly meant for the two of them. Jimin sits next to Jihyun instead. Yoongi picks an armchair. Jimin’s father has Yoongi engaged in conversation in a moment as a maid begins to bring in their snacks, so Jimin leans toward Jihyun. 

“How’s the business?” he says teasingly, like he always does, and Jihyun grins. 

“Profitable and ethically dubious,” he responds, like he always does. Though they didn’t really grow up together, Jimin and Jihyun have always gotten along quite well. “How’s your useless art degree? Any closer to starving artist working as a barista?”

“I’m aiming for bartender, actually.”

“Right, my bad,” he says graciously, and Jimin laughs. “Well, I guess now that you’re getting married, the starving artist track doesn’t apply anymore. Now you’ll just be the eccentric trophy omega of a rich alpha.”

Against himself, Jimin giggles, falling against Jihyun’s side. “Guess that’s the new image.”

Their mother shoots them a look. Jimin supposes they’re being rude. He straightens and tries to pretend he’s listening to whatever his father’s going on about. Something about stocks. Whenever Jimin’s family talks about something boring, he always assumes it must be stocks. At least Yoongi looks interested. He supposes that’s another reason they’ll never get along; Yoongi cares about stocks, and Jimin doesn’t. 

“Lemme see the ring,” Jihyun whispers. He holds his hand out, and Jimin places his own in his, showing off the gold band. “Nice. Very shiny.”

“Don’t pretend like you know what you’re talking about.”

“Hey, I’m trying.”

“Keep your half-assed attempts to yourself, thanks.”

“You’re saying that like you care.”

“I happen to be a ring connoisseur.”

“What, with the discount rings you pick up from the stall outside the mall?”

“Jimin,” their mother says, clearing her throat pointedly. Jimin looks up. Everyone’s looking at him expectantly. “Your father was suggesting Monaco for the honeymoon.”

Right. They’re going to have a honeymoon, too. Somehow these things just keep slipping Jimin’s mind. It’s like he’s having trouble comprehending the reality of his situation. He casts a slightly panicked look at Yoongi, whose expression remains impassive. 

“I’ve heard Cebu is nice,” Jimin says lamely, only because Hoseok has always wanted to go there. There’s a picture of a beach in Cebu on Hoseok’s bulletin board of goals. 

“What do you think?” Jimin’s mother asks Yoongi. 

“Wherever Jimin-ssi would like to go,” he says easily. Jimin narrows his eyes, staring at him, but he can’t pick out whether Yoongi’s just saying it out of politeness or not. For all intents and purposes, he sounds like he means it. 

“Cebu, then,” Jimin decides. He doubts Yoongi really wants to spend their honeymoon together, so maybe he can sneak Hoseok on the trip, and he and Yoongi can spend the whole time ignoring each other. 

“Your mother and I were thinking about a spring wedding,” Jimin’s mother says. “I know it’s a long time away, but it’s already almost summer. No one wants a winter wedding.”

Jimin feels a little relieved to hear that. Spring is a little less than a year away; that’s plenty of time to prepare himself. “Spring sounds nice.”

Yoongi nods in agreement.

The conversation moves on to other things, and the maids arrive with the tea. Jimin sips on his and kicks his feet idly, tuning into the conversation every now and then but mostly staying quiet. Though it’s shitty in theory, sometimes that’s one nice thing about being an omega; people like it when you’re quiet. Jimin can get away with looking pretty and not paying attention. 

Not paying attention means he has no idea why Yoongi and his father suddenly stand up, setting their teacups aside, and he wonders if he’s supposed to stand, too. Jihyun puts a hand on his knee, keeping him in place, so Jimin doesn’t move. They wander out of the room, locked in discussion, and Jimin’s mother turns to him as soon as they’re out of earshot.

“Why are your clothes all wrinkled?” she hisses. 

He glances down. It’s one of his nice outfits, but the time spent in his backpack was not kind to his clothes. “I had class right before this. I couldn’t stop home to change.”

“You couldn’t have skipped one day of class?” she complains. “You need to be giving a good impression right now. Did you see how Yoongi’s dressed?”

“No, I can’t skip one day of class. That’s an hour of wasted time I could be using on my project.”

“Your project,” she scoffs. “We’ve indulged your interest with art long enough. Now it’s time to get serious. Right now, Yoongi is what you need to focus on.” She stands, smoothing down her skirt. “I’m going to order you some new clothes. I’ve noticed your wardrobe is lacking.”

“Right now?” Jimin says, but she’s already walking out. 

“You need to get serious,” Jihyun mocks, pitching his voice higher, and Jimin snorts. “Secure the dick, Jimin hyung, that’s all that matters right now.”

“Ew!” Jimin shrieks, shoving at his shoulder. “I don’t wanna hear my little brother talking about dick.”

“How’s Yoongi ever going to want you when you have a wrinkle in your pants ?” Jihyun croons, drawing air quotes around his last words.

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Unbelievable. How dare I?”

“I don’t think he’s the type to care about that sort of stuff,” Jihyun says, tone switching to serious. “That’s why I told Mom and Dad he was a good choice when his family came forward with the proposal.”

“So this is your fault.”

“You know it was inevitable. But I’ve dealt with him before, and I like him. He’s not like some of these other heirs, always going along with our parents’ generation. He likes trying things differently.”

Jimin shoots Jihyun a dubious look. “He’s an asshole, too.”

Jihyun frowns. “Is he?”

“I tried to be polite at first, but he doesn’t make an effort at all. He told me he doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

Jihyun’s frown deepens. “Do you want me to talk to him?”

Jimin sighs, patting Jihyun’s leg in thanks. Somehow he thinks Yoongi’s derisiveness would only grow if Jimin sent his brother to fight his battles for him. “No, I think I have to figure this out for myself.”

“I’m sorry. I really thought he was a good choice.”

“It’s okay. I know you were doing your best.” Jimin shrugs. “I’m sure the other options weren’t much better.”

“Trust me,” Jihyun mutters. “They weren’t.”

They sigh in unison, and Jimin slumps back against the couch. “Well,” he finally says. “You’re next, baby brother.”

Jihyun looks vaguely pained. 

Chapter 3

The evening may be what it is, but Jimin comforts himself with the knowledge that he looks pretty damn good at his engagement party. 

He’d been hesitant to try on the outfit at first, despite the stylist’s insistence, but once he had it on, he’d fallen in love. The pearl blue top is made of some silky material that seems to glow in the light; it’s loose, a dipping neckline and sleeves that remind Jimin of a pirate’s, flowy until they tighten at his wrists. He has it tucked into a slender pair of black pants, and he’s wearing sleek boots to match. Before it’s time for him to emerge, he spins slowly in front of the mirror they’d set up inside the rented clubhouse and admires himself. If he has to marry Yoongi, he’s going to make Yoongi buy him lots of pretty clothes like these.

His mother’s personal assistant raps on the folding screens that separate his makeshift dressing room from the rest of the clubhouse. “They’re looking for you,” he says, and Jimin nods. 

He gives his dark blond hair one last pat-down before slipping out. Yoongi and their mothers are already waiting for him. He begrudgingly has to admit that Yoongi looks good, too, in some modern twist on a hanbok: loose trousers of the same pearl blue as Jimin’s shirt, black and blue robe open over a white blouse.

“Lovely,” Yoongi’s mother says, reaching out to pat Jimin’s cheek. 

His own mother does something on her phone before saying, “I’ve let them know we’re ready to be announced.”

Their mothers step out ahead of them, leaving the clubhouse to join the party that’s happening out in the lawn. Jimin can hear the MC talking in the microphone, then Yoongi offers him his arm. He takes it. 

“Go on,” his mother’s personal assistant says, and they step outside, too. 

The first thing Jimin notices is that the lawn is packed. Of course he’d known there would be many people attending, but that isn’t the same as seeing it. Jimin likes attention, but he finds himself growing shy under it. All these strangers are here looking at him and Yoongi, and Jimin doesn’t really even know what he’s doing. 

“It is our pleasure,” the MC says, “to announce the engagement of alpha Min Yoongi and omega Park Jimin.”

Everyone claps. Jimin and Yoongi dip their heads in thanks. 

When the clapping fades, the MC continues. “The Min and Park families ask for your love and support in blessing this engagement. Please enjoy the night!”

Some of the attention shifts off them as people return to what they were doing. The lawn is set up prettily with decorated tables serving drinks and food and strings of lights hanging overhead. It’s a nice night, too, not terribly hot, a gentle breeze stirring their hair. Only the burly guards patrolling the perimeter break the delicate aesthetic. 

Hoseok is the first one to approach them. Jimin had wheedled his parents into allowing him to add Hoseok to the guest list. He’s dressed to fit in, looking just on this side of sleazy, like some of the other guys here do: shirt that’s unbuttoned a bit too much to be polite, wide collar and thick chain necklace. Jimin grins at the sight of him, letting go of Yoongi to hug him. 

“Trying to look like you’re in the mob?”

“I’m fitting in,” Hoseok says. “Your ass looks good.”

“Thanks, I know.”

He lets him go, turning to Yoongi. “This is my best friend, Hoseok. Hyung, this is Yoongi-ssi.”

“Nice to meet you,” Yoongi says stiffly. 

Hoseok doesn’t bother pretending to be polite. He sniffs and nods, looking Yoongi up and down. Before he can say anything, someone calls, “Hyung!” and someone new is slinging an arm around Yoongi’s shoulders. 

The newcomer looks a little younger than them, with a wide smile and big eyes. He’s handsome, smells like an alpha, and Jimin catches Hoseok licking his lips in interest. 

“Jungkook,” Yoongi says, sounding rather pained, though the look he turns on the younger alpha is fond. 

“You must be Jimin-ssi,” Jungkook says, grinning big at Jimin in a way that feels rather wicked. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Can’t believe this old man’s finally getting married.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jimin says politely, shooting an unsure glance toward Yoongi. 

“Jeon Jungkook,” Yoongi clarifies, and Jimin’s mouth shapes an oh . The Jeon family has worked for the Min family for a long time. They’re known for being rather ruthless. Jungkook’s shirt is unbuttoned at the collar, his sleeves carelessly pushed up enough to reveal hints of his tattoos. Jimin shoots Hoseok a sideways glance and finds his gaze fixed on them. He can’t tell if Hoseok looks scared or aroused. 

“We haven’t been introduced,” Jungkook says, turning his wicked grin on Hoseok, who looks like a deer caught in headlights. 

Jimin opens his mouth to save Hoseok by responding in his stead, but it turns out Hoseok doesn’t need saving after all. “Jung Hoseok,” he offers. “Jimin’s friend.”

Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Let me show you around, Hoseok-ssi. I’m guessing you don’t know many people here.”

Jimin’s annoyed by the implication, but Hoseok doesn’t seem to mind. “Go ahead,” he says, and Jungkook places a hand on the small of Hoseok’s back to lead him away. 

Jimin watches them go. Then he looks at Yoongi. Yoongi’s looking back, an equally dubious twist to his mouth. 

“Come on,” Yoongi finally mutters. “We have to meet my grandparents.”

Yoongi’s paternal grandparents have none of the warmth of Jimin’s own grandmother. He doesn’t take it personally because they’re even less warm to Yoongi than they are to him, but he finds himself wishing his grandmother had come. As a rule, she no longer attends events like this one. She’s divorced herself from the life completely, although she had promised Jimin she would show up to the wedding at least. She’d also told him - in a vaguely threatening manner - that he would have to introduce her to Yoongi soon. 

They wander around for a while, mingling with the guests, making the necessary rounds to greet everyone individually. Jimin’s embarrassed to find that he hardly knows anyone, even from his own family. Yoongi knows his cousins better than he does. 

Eventually they find a chance to slip away toward the table of refreshments and fill themselves plates of food. Yoongi wanders over to get a drink at the next table, and Jimin tries to figure out if the fancy-looking pastry with a leaf on top is worth trying when he doesn’t know what’s in it. 

Then there’s a hand on his waist. “It tastes good, I promise,” a voice says by his ear, and Jimin startles, twisting around. It’s Jaebum, the alpha from the event planner. Jimin blinks in surprise. 

“Oh. Hello.”

“Hey. Congrats on your engagement,” Jaebum says easily, his hand still burning a hole through Jimin’s clothes where it rests on his waist. “Try it. Trust me.”

Jimin peers at him dubiously then picks up the pastry. “What’s in it?” 

Someone clears their throat. They both look over; it’s Yoongi. He stares pointedly at Jaebum’s hand on Jimin’s waist, and Jaebum drops it. He doesn’t look very guilty. “Jaebum-ssi,” Yoongi says coolly. “Thank you for coming.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Jaebum answers. “Congratulations.”

“Appreciate it. Jimin,” he starts, turning to him. “My aunt wants to say hello.”

Jimin doesn’t miss how Yoongi addresses him informally for the first time. He blinks, then nods to Jaebum and joins Yoongi as they walk off through the crowd. “What’s in this?” Jimin demands, holding the pastry up, but Yoongi’s distracted. He’s staring off at something else. 

Jimin sighs. They speak to his aunt for a little while, then Yoongi gets pulled into a group of people he presumably works with. Jimin feels like it’s appropriate to excuse himself. He’s getting tired of being glued to Yoongi’s side all night. He wonders how he’ll do this for the rest of his life. 

He can’t find Hoseok anywhere (or Jungkook, for that matter) and wanders around rather aimlessly until he catches sight of Jaebum sitting on a bench toward the edge of the lawn with a drink in hand. Jimin finally takes a bite of the pastry. It really is good; he scarfs down the rest and takes a seat next to Jaebum. 

“You were right,” he says. “It was really good.”

“Told you to trust me,” Jaebum responds in that easy way of his. 

Jimin kicks his feet, clutching the edge of the bench. It’s quieter over here, and he finds it refreshing. “You and Yoongi don’t like each other.”

It isn’t a question, but Jaebum answers it anyway. “I’m an Im.”

“Right.” The Im family and the Min family don’t get along too well. But then again, none of the mob families really get along. 

“You look gorgeous tonight, by the way,” Jaebum says. He leans back on the bench, slinging his arm around the back, just behind Jimin. 

“Thanks.” Jimin squints at him, then glances pointedly at his arm. “You know this is my engagement party, right?”

Jaebum moves his arm. He ruffles his hair bashfully. “Ah, sorry. It’s like habit, you know?”

“Habit to flirt with every omega you talk to?”

“Only if they’re as pretty as you.”

Against himself, Jimin’s face grows hot. He looks away. He shouldn’t really be flattered by Jaebum admitting he’s a flirt, but something about the way he says it and the way he’s looking at him makes him feel all fluttery inside anyway. 

“I should go.” Jimin stands, avoiding Jaebum’s gaze. It’s too intense to hold for long. “I’ll see you around. Thanks for coming.”

He heads back to the thick of the party before Jaebum can say anything, hands shoved into the pockets of his pants. It takes him a while to find Yoongi again, stopped every few steps by someone wishing to speak with him. When he does, Yoongi nods over in the direction of the clubhouse, where Jungkook and Hoseok emerge. Hoseok’s hair is mussed, his lips swollen. Jungkook’s straightening his collar. 

“Oh my god,” Jimin mutters. 

“I’m not dealing with this,” Yoongi mutters back. 

Jimin smacks his arm abruptly, and Yoongi jolts in surprise. “If he’s mean to my hyung, I’ll kill him and you.”

“Jungkook’s like my little brother. I’m the one who should be making threats here.”

“Hyung wouldn’t hurt a fly. And I’ve already made the threat, so you’re too late.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Stop arguing with me. Everyone’s giving us looks.”

“You’re the one arguing with me.”

They would have gone on arguing for longer, but Yoongi’s mother interrupts them for the cake cutting. It’s awkward. Yoongi has to stand behind Jimin, arms wrapped around Jimin’s so they can hold the knife together. His scent grows a little overwhelming, and they step away from each other a touch too quickly once they’ve cut the first slice. 

The party wraps up quickly enough after that. Jimin’s parents send him home in one of their cars. Jimin spends the ride with his head against the cool window, marveling at how surreal it feels to leave an extravagant party like that to return to the tiny apartment he shares with Hoseok. But it won’t be surreal for much longer. This is going to be his life now. 

❦

Hoseok shows up later that night, well after Jimin has made it home, showered and changed. He’s waiting on the couch for him, draping himself over the back to watch Hoseok enter and kick his shoes off. 

“Where have you been, Jung Hoseok-ssi?” Jimin says. 

Hoseok coughs. “Uh, train was late.”

“You know you can’t lie to save your life, right?”

It takes approximately 30 seconds of Jimin staring at him for Hoseok to give in. He drapes himself over the counter and groans. “Ugh, fine, I was sucking Jungkook’s dick in the car.”

“How many times did you suck his dick?” Jimin shrieks. “It’s been like two hours!”

“None of your business, Park Jimin.”

“As your best friend, I demand details. But first, was he nice?”

Hoseok sighs rather dreamily. “His dick’s huge.”

“I asked if he was nice!”

“When I felt it twitch down my throat, I knew he was The One.”

“Oh my god.” Jimin flings a couch cushion at him. “All it takes to seduce you is a big dick, huh?”

“Please. Did you see him?” Hoseok unfurls himself from the counter to join Jimin on the couch. 

“I’m surprised you weren’t terrified, honestly. You know he’s shady in the way my family is, right?”

“Oh, I know.” Hoseok shudders, but the look in his eyes isn’t particularly scared. “You know he was carrying a gun?”

“No way.” Jimin has seen people in his family with guns before, but he knows it isn’t terribly common. Jungkook must be pretty important. “And you didn’t piss your pants?”

“I mean, I did other things in my pants, but - ”

“Oh my god, do you have a fear kink or something?”

Hoseok just sighs. 

“This is so weird,” Jimin grumbles. “I feel like this constitutes a betrayal, you hooking up with the best friend of my asshole fiancé.” 

“Yeah, well, Jungkook actually was pretty nice.”

“I wonder if Yoongi would have been nice if we’d met when we hooked up at a party instead of when our parents arranged our marriage.”

Hoseok shoots him a dubious look. “Somehow I doubt that.”

This time, Jimin’s the one who sighs. “Me, too.”

❦

A car picks up after his last class on Tuesday afternoon, no warning, nothing. Jimin’s more than a little annoyed. 

“You’re scheduled to meet with the florist for the wedding, sir. Your mother said ‘make sure the flowers you choose are clan appropriate,’” the driver, Hyerin, tells him when she opens the car door for him. 

“What if I’d had somewhere to be?” Jimin complains as he slides in. “Isn’t it too early to be picking flower arrangements?”

He buckles himself in, and Hyerin wisely says nothing as she starts the car and pulls onto the road. He doesn’t understand why his mother keeps insisting that he makes these decisions when she knows how unqualified he is. Maybe it’s an excuse to push him and Yoongi together, or a way to get his feet wet before he has to do things like this all the time.

“Is Yoongi going to be there?” Jimin asks.

She glances at him through the rearview mirror. “I wasn’t told, sir.”

There’s no way he can do this on his own, so Jimin pulls out his phone and dials Yoongi’s number. As soon as the line connects, he says, “Are you going to be at the florist in half an hour?”

“Florist?” Yoongi sounds confused. “I have a meeting.”

“We’re supposed to be picking flower arrangements.”

“I’m about to walk into a meeting. I can’t back out now.”

“I didn’t know about it either.”

“Can you figure it out on your own?”

“I don’t know anything about clan-appropriate flowers.”

“Parks don’t do lilies - ” Yoongi stops mid-sentence, interrupted by a muffled voice in the background. “I have to go. Just reschedule.”

He hangs up before Jimin can protest. Jimin lets out a long, drawn-out sigh. “I’m guessing it’s too late to reschedule.”

Hyerin’s voice is almost sympathetic. “Most likely, sir.”

Jimin stares at his phone for a long moment. His mother probably wanted him to do this on his own if she hadn’t checked Yoongi’s availability first. Maybe it’s some sort of test. If that’s the case, he’s guaranteed to fail it. He doesn’t know anything about clan flowers. He didn’t even know clans had flower preferences. He tries to wrack his brain for any memories of what types of flowers he’d seen at other events, but he doesn’t normally walk into a party and zero in on the flower types. They’d had daisies at the engagement party; he only remembers because he had to pick those out, too. 

Pursing his lips, Jimin scrolls down his contact list and tries Jihyun first. As usual, he doesn’t pick up. WIth a huff of exasperation, Jimin wonders who he could ask for help and passes Jaebum’s number in his contact list. He only debates for half a minute before dialing. 

“Im Jaebum,” comes the curt answer.

“Hi, Jaebum-ssi,” Jimin says uncertainly. “It’s Jimin. Park Jimin.”

Jaebum’s tone is markedly more pleased when he speaks again. “Hey, Jimin-ssi. How are you?”

“I’m good, thanks. How about you?”

“Can’t complain. Is there anything I can do for you?”

“Actually, I just had a question if you have time?”

“Of course. Consider my schedule cleared.”

“I’m supposed to be picking a flower arrangement for the wedding, and I’m not sure how to make it clan appropriate. Do you happen to know anything about Park or Min family flowers?”

“Are you there right now?”

“I’m heading over.”

“Which florist are you meeting?”

Jimin covers the mouthpiece to ask Hyerin. “Elegant Sensations,” she responds, and he repeats it down the line. 

“That’s a block away from where I am. How about I meet you there and help you pick?”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t trouble you like that - ”

“It’s not a problem. I’ll see you soon.”

“Thank you!” Jimin manages to blurt before Jaebum hangs up. He settles back into his seat and feels markedly more relaxed. 

Jaebum’s waiting outside the florist’s shop when Jimin arrives, the usual sharp grin on his face. “Hey,” he greets Jimin when he approaches. 

“Thank you so much for doing this. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem.” He opens the door and ushers Jimin inside first, his voice light when he asks, “Yoongi-ssi couldn’t make it?”

There’s no judgement in his tone, but Jimin feels it anyway. “He had an important meeting.” He comes out sounding more defensive than he intends. It isn’t that he cares about Yoongi’s reputation; it’s his own that’s on the line. He doesn’t want to be the pathetic omega whose alpha never has time for him.

“Of course,” comes Jaebum’s smooth response. 

The receptionist jumps at the sight of them, dipping into a low bow. Jimin wonders if he’ll ever get used to people treating him like that. “You must be Park Jimin-ssi. And Im Jaebum-ssi, we weren’t expecting you.”

She sounds panicked, so Jimin quickly says, “He’s just accompanying me to my appointment.”

She tries to mask her relief, but Jimin catches it anyway. “Right this way, please. Can I get you any water or coffee? Some wine?”

“Coffee’s fine,” Jimin says. He’s going to need a cup to get through this. “Black, please.”

“Nothing for me,” Jaebum says. 

They’re seated in a cushy office, and Jimin’s coffee arrives promptly. 

“Black, huh?” Jaebum raises his eyebrows. 

“What, omegas can’t drink their coffee black?” Jimin snarks. 

Jaebum laughs. “‘Course they can. You just don’t look like the type.”

“What’s that mean?” Jimin exclaims, though he isn’t really annoyed. 

“Come on, Jimin-ssi, you know.” Jaebum reaches out and pinches the sleeve of Jimin’s oversized sweater.

“Enlighten me.”

“You’re adorable.”

Jimin blushes right to his ears. “I thought I said no flirting.”

“I’m not flirting. I’m only stating facts.”

“Is that what you call it?”

Jaebum’s eyes twinkle. “Yup.”

There’s a knock on the door, and a man enters, introducing himself as the florist. He hands them each a tablet open to a program that showcases various flowers with the option to view them in combinations. 

“So the Min family is partial to lilies, but the Park family stays away from them due to an incident in the 1970s,” Jaebum explains. “I’ve seen the Min family use jasmine, too, though, so that’s an option. As a Park omega, you’d want to go for something pink.”

“We’ve had some Park customers use plum blossoms,” the florist suggests.

Jaebum considers. “As far as I know, that wouldn’t clash with the Min family. So that could work.”

The meeting goes on like this until they settle on a tentative arrangement. The colors of the flowers will dictate the theme for the rest of the wedding, so Jimin jots down the shades for future reference. 

“How do you know all this stuff?” he asks as they walk out. “You’re not a Park or a Min.”

“I’m the Im family heir,” Jaebum shrugs. “I have to know all about my rivals, don’t I? Yoongi-ssi probably knows all about the Im clan.”

“Are we rivals?”

Jaebum grins. “I suppose we are.”

Hyerin’s waiting in the car. She hops out at the sight of them. 

“What do you say we grab some dinner, rival?” Jaebum offers.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jimin frets. “I’m not really dressed for dinner.”

“I know a good place around here, walking distance. It’s casual. Promise.”

Jimin twists his lips, but Jaebum looks earnest, and he’s fun to hang out with. “Okay,” he finally acquiesces. “Hyerin-ssi, you can go home. I’ll take the bus back.”

She shakes her head. “Your mother asked me to make sure I get you home. I’ll wait for you to finish, sir.”

Jimin digs around in his wallet and hands her a wad of cash. “Okay, but go get dinner while you wait.”

She accepts it with a bow, and Jaebum and Jimin set off down the sidewalk. 

“I was surprised to hear about your engagement,” Jaebum comments. “I think everyone had started to think the Parks would never bring their famous omega son out of hiding.”

“Famous?” Jimin splutters. “And I wasn’t hiding. I went to parties sometimes.”

“Barely,” Jaebum counters, and Jimin can’t argue with that. “I can see why they hid you away, though.”

His gaze feels like a laser. Jimin looks away. “And why’s that?”

“It just makes sense,” he says vaguely, and Jimin frowns.

“They just didn’t want me involved. Useless omega and all that.”

“There are other clans with omega eldests. Sure, they don’t have much of a say in things, but they’re very much involved in the life.”

“Really?” Jimin says, still frowning. “Then why - ”

“I always heard it was your grandmother’s doing, but I can’t confirm.” He shrugs. “Just a rumor.”

That would make sense, but Jimin doesn’t like that she’d never told him that. And if she’d kept him away from his family, why couldn’t she keep him away from this marriage?

They arrive at the restaurant shortly, and it’s small and casual just like Jaebum had promised. The food’s amazing, and Jaebum’s funny, so Jimin enjoys himself immensely. Dinner is almost over too fast, but Jimin doesn’t want to keep Hyerin waiting, so he doesn’t linger.

“This was fun,” Jaebum says as they walk back to Jimin’s car. “We should hang out again.”

“Even though we’re rivals?” Jimin jokes.

“Even then.”

Hyerin steps out of the car and opens the passenger door for Jimin. 

“Do you need a ride?” Jimin offers, but Jaebum shakes his head. 

“I’ll be fine. Goodnight, Jimin-ssi.”

“See you around.”

Jimin slips into the car and Hyerin pulls into traffic. He takes out his phone to find a text from Yoongi: did you reschedule?

No, Jimin answers. I found help.

❦

The next day, Jimin gets a call from Jihyun. 

“Heard you were getting cozy with Im Jaebum last night.”

“You couldn’t pick up the phone yesterday, but you’re calling to tell me that?” 

“Sorry, I was in a meeting.”

Jimin huffs. Meetings, meetings. Always meetings. “How do you even know?”

“Please, nothing’s ever a secret around here. Not that you were even trying to be secretive from what I heard.”

“Yeah, because it’s not a secret. I wasn’t trying to hide anything.”

“Mom’s pissed. Expect a phone call.”

“What is she pissed about?” he says, exasperated. 

“You were out and about with another clan’s alpha when you barely even look at Yoongi. Duh.”

“Not my fault Yoongi’s an asshole.”

“Who says Jaebum isn’t?” Jihyun challenges.

“He’s nice to me,” Jimin grumbles. “And anyway, it’s not like that. I needed help with the floral arrangement. Mom said it had to be “clan appropriate” which I obviously don’t understand. Yoongi couldn’t make it, I called Jaebum for advice. End of story.”

“Oh, yeah. Mom probably did that on purpose. She was testing you.”

“I think this counts as a pass.”

“I think she’d count it as cheating.”

“I utilized my resources.”

Jihyun scoffs. “Okay, hyung. You know he wanted to marry you, right?”

“Who?”

“Jaebum.”

Jimin nearly falls out of his chair. “No.”

“He was one of the proposals.”

“Why do you pick Yoongi over him?” Jimin whines. “Jaebum’s nice.”

“His family’s a mess,” Jihyun mutters. “They get into a lot of disputes. Always got a target on their back. We didn’t want you caught up in all that.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, it’s a little shady that he’s hanging around when we rejected him, so just be careful.”

“I hate politics.”

“Better get used to it,” Jihyun laughs. “This is your life now.”

Chapter 4

Notes:

im loving all the vastly different opinions on jaebum's character u guys have >:)

Jimin’s grandmother invites Yoongi over for lunch, and there’s a subtle threat attached, as if she knows Jimin might try to wheedle his way out of it. He’s slightly nervous about telling Yoongi, not that he thinks Yoongi would refuse; family engagements are something they both know they have no say over. When he texts him, Yoongi responds with a question that Jimin turns over in his head for the rest of the day. She’s the one who raised you, right ? Jimin answers yes, and Yoongi says he’ll be there.

At least the two of them don’t have to ride over together, and Jimin doesn’t have to change his clothes. His grandmother doesn’t care about things like that. Jimin shows up in between classes, and Yoongi comes on his lunch break from work. Yoongi’s already there when Jimin arrives at the apartment, something that makes Jimin uncomfortable. Who knows what his grandmother has been filling his head with. 

“Late,” she grumbles when he enters. 

He pulls his shoes off in the entryway and sets his backpack down. They’re both seated at the table. Seeing Yoongi kneeling on the floor of his childhood home in his impeccable suit is more than a little strange. To his surprise, Yoongi’s smiling. Jimin doesn’t think he’s ever seen Yoongi with a real smile. He only ever has the forced politeness he dons when they’re dealing with their families. 

“I’m perfectly on time.” Jimin points at his watch.

“Yoongi got here first. You’re late.”

Jimin sighs. He knows better than to keep arguing with her. He kneels on the cushion by Yoongi’s side and says, “How are you feeling, Grandma?”

“Aches and pains,” she complains. “You know how it is. How’s that roommate of yours?”

Even though she’s known Hoseok forever, these days she insists on referring to him as his roommate. “He says he misses your squid but not your nagging.”

She grins. “Brat.” She stands, pushing herself to her feet carefully. Jimin resists hopping up to help her, knowing she’ll just swat him away. “Let me put the food on. You two must be hungry.”

Jimin unfurls himself to follow her to the kitchen. She ladles fresh rice from the cooker into a bowl, and Jimin takes the stew off the stove. 

“Can I help?” Yoongi calls, and they both scoff. Jimin wonders if he’s ever even been in a normal person’s home before, where they don’t have cooks and maids. 

“Sit and look pretty,” his grandmother responds. “Look at the flowers he got me, Jimin-ah.”

Jimin glances over at the massive bouquet sitting on the counter and raises his eyebrows. “They’re nice.”

He helps her set the table, placing dish after dish in the center, marveling at how much she’d made. He’d offered to skip class and help her cook, but she’d firmly refused. “You didn’t have to do all this. You should have let me help.”

Yoongi gets up and takes a handful of side dishes from him, placing them on the table. “You shouldn’t have done so much,” he agrees.

“Please. Jimin, you’re useless in the kitchen.” Then she looks at Yoongi. “Hear that, Min Yoongi? He can’t cook to save his life.”

Jimin blushes. “Grandma!”

“‘S alright,” Yoongi mutters, looking rather embarrassed himself.  

“Good thing you’re marrying rich,” she laughs. “Don’t ever have to worry about cooking.”

“Grandma, stop.”

“I know how to cook,” Yoongi says, and they both pause in their work to shoot him a dubious look. “I can, really.”

Jimin’s grandmother looks at Jimin and raises her eyebrows. He pointedly looks away. They sit down to eat, and despite Jimin’s cold war with Yoongi, he’s polite enough that he focuses on making sure Yoongi gets enough to eat before he starts himself. Anyway, if he didn’t, his grandmother would probably kill him. 

“Are you enjoying your retirement?” Yoongi asks. Jimin wonders if it’s meant to be ironic, given how simply she lives compared to her old life. But it doesn’t sound ironic; he sounds like he means it. 

“Of course. I earned this rest,” she sighs. “Worked long and hard to get it.”

Jimin peers at her. Sometimes he wonders what his grandmother has seen in her life, how many people she’s killed. She doesn’t talk about it - not to him. The only remnant of her old life is her tattoos, and even those are almost always covered up. 

“They still tell stories about you,” Yoongi says, and Jimin glances to him in surprise. “All the kids want to be just like Mama Park.”

She laughs. “There are better things they can aspire to.” 

“As far as role models go in our families, you’re a good one.”

“You’re flattering me,” she waves him off, but Jimin can tell she looks pleased. “I didn’t want Jimin-ah to marry one of you gangsters, you know.”

Jimin stares resolutely into his rice bowl. 

“I don’t blame you,” murmurs Yoongi, his tone oddly sincere. Jimin doesn’t dare look over at him, fearing the bubble of honesty will pop as soon as he does. “I wouldn’t, either.”

“But I should have known. We can’t escape the life, no matter how hard we try.” She sighs. “Try to keep him out of it, yeah?”

“Grandma,” Jimin mumbles. He’s always had a mixed relationship with the way he grew up. On one hand, he understands why his grandmother raised him the way she did; he appreciates it. On the other, part of him has always chafed against it. He doesn’t like feeling like an overprotected child. And now after what Jaebum told him - that it might have been solely due to his grandmother that he grew up away from his family - things are even more complicated.

“I will,” Yoongi promises, and Jimin stares into his rice again. 

The conversation drifts to other things, and Jimin tries to relax. He’s always loved spending time with his grandmother. They finish eating, and Jimin and Yoongi help clear away the table while Jimin’s grandmother makes coffee.

“Do you know if I still have any extra sketchbooks lying around?” Jimin asks, wiping off the table. 

“Check your room,” his grandmother suggests. “There aren’t any on the shelf out here.”

Jimin slips down the hallway to his bedroom at the end. Everything’s the same as he left it when he graduated high school; he hasn’t bothered redecorating. He sifts through the bookshelf across from his bed for any of his old sketchbooks. He’s blown through the ones he bought for the school year too quickly, and he doesn’t want to spend money on more. 

“You were into idol groups?” says a judgy voice from the door. 

Jimin glances over. Yoongi’s leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest as he looks up at the posters on Jimin’s walls. “These are old,” he says defensively. “High school.”

“Which was what, two years ago?” Yoongi says, and Jimin blushes. “Who was your biggest idol crush, then?”

“None of your business.”

“I mean, we’re getting married. Don’t I get to know about my fiancé’s past idol obsession?”

Normally, Jimin would have been marginally annoyed at Yoongi and nothing else. But it feels weird having him here in the room he grew up in, making friends with his grandmother, knowing about her in ways that Jimin never has. Feels like he keeps having to remind himself that this is real, that he’s marrying a guy he doesn’t know, someone who grew up very, very differently than he did. 

“You said you didn’t want anything to do with me.” It comes out more biting than he intends. 

Yoongi’s gaze drifts from the posters to Jimin. It feels painfully discerning. “And yet.”

Jimin’s hand lands on a sketchbook. He pulls it out, finds it mostly empty, and stands. “I have to go to class,” he mutters, brushing past Yoongi on his way out. “I’ll take the bus.”

“I never offered.”

“You want to know about my past, but you don’t want to offer me a ride?” Jimin scoffs. 

“What’s the point in offering if I know you’re going to say no?”

“Whatever.” Jimin returns to the living room, finding his grandmother sitting on the couch waiting for them. “Thank you for lunch, Grandma. Let me know if you need me to drop off more pain cream tomorrow.”

She pulls him in to kiss his cheek. “You and that roommate of yours better eat something other than cup noodles once in a while.”

“Sure thing, Grandma.”

He puts on his shoes, grabs his backpack, and leaves without waiting to see if Yoongi’s on his way behind him. 

❦

Jimin can’t sleep. 

This isn’t an uncommon occurrence, but tonight it comes with a certain restless itch that Jimin can’t seem to scratch. He rolls over, moving his pillows around, and sighs. Then he rolls the other way and sighs again. Eventually, he gets out of bed to fetch more pillows and a few of his favorite sweaters to toss onto his bed. He arranges them carefully and moves back to look.

Then he groans.

He doesn’t know how he didn’t notice before, but he’s been fucking nesting . Jimin falls face-first onto his bed. It must be the stress. There are a million things to be stressed about, after all. Marriage to a stranger, being thrust into a new life. What Jaebum said about his grandmother. What Jihyun said about Jaebum. 

Jimin pulls his phone out. It’s still open to Yoongi’s Instagram, which he’d been perusing an hour ago. There isn’t much on it. Before he can stop himself, Jimin’s opening his chat with Yoongi and typing a message. 

Do you snore?

Even though it’s 3 AM, Yoongi’s answer comes promptly. No . Then, a moment later, do you?

No, Jimin tells him, but sometimes I have nightmares and cry. 

Yoongi’s answer is delayed, but it does come. Me too , he says, and Jimin rolls over and shoves his phone under his pillow. 

❦

Jimin and Jungkook are having a staredown. 

Jimin’s winning, he’s sure of it. He’s great at staredowns; he almost never cracks. As expected, Jungkook breaks the silence first. 

“Seen Yoongi hyung lately?”

“Nope.”

“Saw Jaebum, though.”

Jimin narrows his eyes. His mother had ripped him a new one for that, but fortunately Yoongi or his family hadn’t said a word about it. “None of your business.”

“Right.” Jungkook clears his throat. “So, uh, is he home?” 

He tries unsuccessfully to peek into the apartment around Jimin, who’s blocking the doorway. Jimin makes himself bigger to block more of his view. “Do you have a gun on you?”

“If I say yes, are you gonna tell me he’s not home?”

Jimin sniffs, looking him up and down. “Maybe.”

“You know, Yoongi hyung pretty much always has a gun on him.”

“I didn’t want to know that.”

“Don’t you know what kind of family you’re marrying into?”

“Don’t you know what kind of family I’m from?” Jimin challenges, and Jungkook grins. It’s a sharp grin. Jimin realizes abruptly that Yoongi doesn’t have a sharp grin like Jungkook or Jihyun or Jaebum do. Yoongi’s smile is faded. 

“Who doesn’t?” Jungkook says. His smile softens the slightest bit. “I’m glad it’s you he’s marrying. I like you.”

“You don’t know me well enough to like me.”

“Then let’s change that.” He holds out his hand. “I’d like to be friends. We’ll, uh, probably be crossing paths a lot.”

Jimin takes his proffered hand and shakes it. He glances behind him and lowers his voice. “Be fair with him, okay? He’s not like us.”

“Neither are you.”

Jimin casts his gaze downward, bitter twist to his mouth. “It’s different for me, isn’t it? I don’t have a choice. He does.”

“I’ll be good,” Jungkook promises. “Yoongi hyung’s a good man, you know. He’ll take care of you.”

Jimin sighs. “I don’t think he’s interested.” It isn’t a line of conversation that Jimin wants to pursue with Jungkook, so he turns to call back into the apartment. “Hoseok hyung! Someone’s here for you.”

Hoseok peeks out of his room, looking lost until his gaze settles on Jungkook. He brightens, surprise clear in his eyes. “Jungkook?”

Jungkook looks almost shy as he ruffles his hair and shuffles his feet. “I, uh, was wondering if you wanted to go out for ice cream. If you aren’t busy.”

“I’d love to,” Hoseok beams, no trace of hesitation on his face. He dips into his room and emerges holding his phone and wallet. “See you later, Jiminie.”

Jimin gives them both a small wave as Hoseok pulls on his shoes. “Have fun, guys.”

He closes the door behind them and hopes Jungkook is one of the honest types. 

❦

Yoongi’s mother is pretty in an unreal sort of way. Her mouth is like Yoongi’s, small and pink and pouty, but her eyes are big and hooded. The sharpness of her cheekbones grants her a regal, arrogant air, and the way she utilizes her perfect eyebrows only enhances that air. Jimin finds her beauty both intimidating and admirable; she has the sort of presence that makes you desperately want her approval. 

And she does like him - or at least, she’s good at pretending that she does. She spends their entire shopping adventure praising Jimin; he’s had a permanent blush on his face since she picked him up at his apartment. Of course, there are criticisms laced in with the praise, but she’s so covert about them that Jimin doesn’t even realize he’s being criticized until four sentences later. You’d look so pretty with dark hair , or when you stand straight you look even taller . Against himself, he’s trapped in her web of charm like a hapless fly. Even if he didn’t know by scent, he would have figured out she was an alpha within a moment of meeting her. 

“I don’t like the cut of this jacket,” she tells the salesperson helping them. She’s seated on a plush couch, watching Jimin as he emerges from the dressing room every time she chooses a new outfit for him to try. “He has such a pretty, elegant waist. We want to accentuate that, not hide it.”

“Of course, ma’am,” says the salesman. He helps Jimin out of the current jacket and into another one. 

Inhye looks pleased. “Much better. Oh, how lovely. We’ll take this one, too.”

Jimin returns to the dressing room to change into his regular clothes. When he steps back out, she’s already taking care of the bill. “Let me pay,” Jimin objects. “Please, you’ve done so much already.”

She waves him off so firmly that Jimin almost wants to cower. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She pats his cheek fondly. “You are so cute. You make me want to spoil you.”

Jimin flushes. Her assistant takes the shopping bags, and they leave the store.

“It’s about time for coffee,” Inhye announces. Then, like an afterthought, “You’re fine with coffee, right, dear?”

“Coffee sounds perfect.”

They’re given a private room in an elegant cafe not far from the shopping district. Jimin orders some sugary nonsense that looks so pretty he takes a picture and sends it right to Hoseok. 

“Your parents tell me you study art?” Inhye takes a neat, tiny bite of her pastry, dabbing her lips afterward. 

Jimin nods. “Sculpture.”

“How sweet,” she coos, though it sounds vaguely patronizing. “My husband was hesitant about bringing you into the family, given that you were raised like an outsider. But I think it will be nice to have a fresh perspective, someone who will look at things a little differently. It’ll be good for Yoongi to have a chance to step back from our lifestyle.”

Jimin’s willing to bet the real reason she’s happy is because of his lack of knowledge, which means he’s easier to control. But he lets her have it. “I’ll work hard to overcome any gaps in my understanding,” he says, and she smiles fondly.

“I know you will. You’re such a good boy.” She sighs, taking a sip of her coffee. “My son, he’s - he’s been having a hard time. I hope some of your brightness will rub off on him.”

“He has?” Jimin murmurs curiously. 

“Ah, I forgot you probably wouldn’t know. It’s common knowledge among the clans.” She sets her cup down. “Two years ago, Yoongi’s best friend was killed. He was an outsider, too. The hit was put out by the Im clan.”

“Oh, no,” Jimin breathes, his shock genuine. “That’s terrible.”

“They say it wasn’t an order from the top, that the killer went rogue. The Im clan punished him harshly. But still,” she shrugs.

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. It was a very hard time for him.”

People die in the clans all the time. But Yoongi’s friend was an outsider; Jimin imagines that would have stung even more, to know that your friend died solely because of their involvement with you. No wonder Yoongi and Jaebum had seemed to have a stony relationship.

“But that’s all in the past now,” she says, a little callously in Jimin’s opinion. He doubts Yoongi can dismiss the past so easily. “Now we look forward only to happiness.” She reaches across the table to pat his hand. “Welcome to the family, Jimin-ah.”

❦

Jimin’s having what could be referred to as a dilemma. 

Sometimes, he likes solving his dilemmas by hanging upside down off the side of his bed. All the blood rushing to his brain must do something for his thinking power. Hoseok says he’s ridiculous, but that’s besides the point. So Jimin’s hanging off the bed, his hair an inch from the ground and his phone glued to his face as he tries to solve the dilemma that is Im Jaebum’s text message. 

It’s a simple enough message. Hey, let’s get coffee today? On the surface level, this isn’t really a dilemma at all. There are quite a few pros to hanging out with Jaebum: 

1. He’s fun to hang out with. 
2. Jimin’s bored.
3. Jimin could really use a nice cup of coffee that isn’t brewed from the subpar pods he uses. 
4. Hoseok has been busy lately, so Jimin’s hanging out meter is desperately low.

Unfortunately, things are never really surface level, so Jimin’s list of pros is offset by an equally long - and possibly heavier - list of cons. 

1. Apparently, Jaebum proposed to him, so as of now his intentions have become unclear. 
2. Jaebum’s family killed Yoongi’s best friend. Which, though it seems Jaebum himself had nothing to with it, is something that still gives Jimin hives.
3. Last time he hung out with Jaebum, his mother yelled at him.
4. He’s meeting his and Yoongi’s families tonight for dinner, so it might be a bit of a time crunch. 

Then again, it won’t be that much of a time crunch. It’s still early, and Jimin doesn’t have to meet him for long. He imagines Jaebum’s busy, anyway. As for Con #3, he could always ask Jaebum to meet him somewhere more discreet this time. That only leaves two real cons. Yoongi’s mother herself said the Im clan killer had been a rogue, and that the family had punished him harshly. And Jimin knows his own intentions are clear in regards to his friendship with Jaebum, so it’ll probably be fine, right?

Jaebum sends him the address of a cafe that he promises is usually very quiet. He offers a ride, but Jimin takes the bus in favor of being discreet. He wears a beanie and a face mask on the way, feeling rather like an undercover celebrity. Jaebum’s waiting just inside the quaint cafe, smile spreading across his face at the sight of him.

“Hey, good to see you.” He greets Jimin with a side hug. It’s chaste enough, but it throws Jimin slightly off guard; the whole scent thing means people tend to be stingy with their hugs. “I got us a private space.”

He leads Jimin up to a balcony on the cafe’s second floor, where only one table is set up amid borders of greenery. It’s a gorgeous view, railings lined with flower baskets, pretty lights draped over an overhead trellis. They’re high enough that Jimin feels comfortable removing his mask and beanie. As he fluffs out his hair, Jaebum pulls his chair out for him and Jimin has the abrupt realization that this feels an awful lot like a date. 

But it can’t be a date. Jaebum knows he’s engaged. 

“How have you been?” Jaebum asks. “You must have exams coming up.”

Jimin groans at the reminder. “Please, I spent all night in the studio.”

Jaebum looks rightfully concerned. “You didn’t sleep?”

Jimin shakes his head ruefully. “I got back around 6, but I was too keyed up to get any sleep after that.”

“I’m sorry I invited you out. You should be taking a nap.”

“Oh, no.” Jimin waves him off. “I’ll be fine. I have trouble day sleeping.”

“We should get some more to eat,” he insists. “You need your strength, working so hard.”

“I’m fine, really,” Jimin starts, but Jaebum’s already getting up to call the waitress again. He can’t help but feel flattered. It’s nice being taken care of. “So what did you study when you were in university?” he asks when Jaebum sits back down.

“Business,” he answers with a wry shake of his head. “Think that’s what we all end up doing.”

“Did you like it?”

He shrugs. “I don’t think I’m really a school kind of guy. I prefer things to be more hands-on.”

“I can see that. You seem like the type.”

Their snacks and coffee come, and Jimin takes a welcoming sip of his. He’s already had two cups since morning, but after a sleepless night, he can’t have enough. Jaebum insists on giving him nearly all the food, piling more onto his plate every time he looks close to being done. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were fattening me up to eat me.”

Jaebum responds with a wolfish grin. “Sometimes you’re so cute, I do want to eat you up.”

“Jaebum-ssi!” Jimin admonishes. “No flirting.”

But Jaebum’s shameless grin doesn’t fade. “Call me hyung. I’m older, right?”

“Jaebum hyung,” Jimin amends, and he didn’t think it was possible for Jaebum to look even more smug, but he does.

“I like the sound of that,” he says, and Jimin flushes bright red.

“You are ridiculous,” he mutters. Part of him wonders if he did make a mistake by coming. He’s probably an idiot for even trying to pretend Jaebum’s intent wasn’t obvious. But Jimin’s intentions are pure, and - well. He’d be lying if he said the attention wasn’t flattering. 

They fall into conversation that moves smoothly from one topic to the next. Jaebum’s easy to talk to, funny and pleasant of manner. When they’re done eating, Jimin takes his mug of coffee and moves to look at the view. The cafe has a backyard garden full of beautiful landscaping, a rarity in the middle of the city.

“You people always seem to know the best places,” Jimin comments, leaning over the railing and letting the breeze cradle his face.

“You people?” Jaebum laughs. “Who’s that?”

“Rich people,” Jimin says seriously, and Jaebum laughs again.

“That’s you, too.”

“I know. Doesn’t feel like it yet. Guess it has to sink in.”

“What was it like growing up away from your family?” Jaebum comes to stand next to him. The breezes mixes their scents together, and Jimin breathes in Jaebum’s fresh mint.

“I felt a little unwanted. Left out.” He shrugs. “But my grandmother’s really wonderful, so I can’t say I missed out on much. And Jihyun and I have always hung out when we could.”

“I’ve heard a lot about your grandmother.”

“Apparently everyone has,” Jimin grumbles, still jealous that everyone else seems to know more about the most important person in his life than he does.

“She doesn’t come around to business events anymore, does she?”

“Nope. She didn’t even come to the engagement party.”

Jaebum shifts to lean on his elbow so that he’s facing Jimin while he talks. “How does she feel about you getting married?”

“I don’t know, honestly. She hasn’t said much. I think she likes Yoongi, though.”

Jaebum hums. They’re quiet, and Jimin finishes the last sip of his coffee. 

“I’m sure you hear this a lot,” Jaebum begins, “but you really are beautiful.”

Jimin flushes. “No flirting means no flirting.”

“Not flirting, stating a fact. You’re standing there looking like that and you expect me not to praise you?”

Jimin’s heart thuds hard. He averts his gaze, finding Jaebum’s too intense to hold. “Hyung,” he whines. 

“And then you go and do that.” Jaebum shakes his head ruefully. “What’s a guy supposed to do?”

He’s closer now, Jimin realizes, his scent clouding Jimin’s mind. It makes him feel rather dizzy. Jaebum reaches out and rests a hand on Jimin’s waist. Jimin’s breath catches in his throat, and the way Jaebum’s looking at him sends a shiver up his spine. Jaebum’s gaze dips down to Jimin’s mouth.

It would be easy to let him kiss him. Easy not to move away. 

But Jimin swallows harshly, clearing his foggy brain, and takes a careful step out of Jaebum’s reach. 

“Jaebum-ssi,” he says firmly, “I’m engaged.”

“You don’t even like him,” Jaebum murmurs, and Jimin frowns. 

“I’m still engaged. It doesn’t matter if I like him or not. I’d be upset if he went around flirting with other omegas.”

“Is this what you really want? To marry a guy you can’t even talk to?”

“You barely know me,” Jimin whispers. “You don’t know what I want.”

“Tell me that’s what you want, then. Tell me you want to marry Min Yoongi.”

Jimin squeezes his eyes shut briefly, then he looks away. “You know I can’t do that.”

“It isn’t over yet, Jimin. You still have a chance.” Jaebum takes a step toward him. “You don’t have to sign your life away like this.”

“Are you suggesting I marry you instead?” Jimin lets the incredulousness show in his voice. “I don’t know you much better than I know him.”

“I’d take better care of you than him,” Jaebum avows, and the sad thing is that Jimin believes it.

Jimin swallows past the lump in his throat. His eyes burn. “I have to go. I’m going to be late.”

“Jimin - ” Jaebum calls, but Jimin’s already grabbing his things and fleeing back inside the cafe. He doesn’t look back. 

Chapter 5

Notes:

re: the comments frm the last chapter... I SEE THE JAEBUM DISCOURSE CONTINUES >:)

Jimin doesn’t make it home with quite enough time to change. 

He’s too frustrated to really care, mind still locked on Jaebum, so he changes his shoes and tosses a nice blazer overtop his clothes and hopes it’s good enough. Yoongi texts him while he’s in the middle of fixing his hair. Jimin stares at himself in the mirror, wondering if he looks as frazzled as he feels. He feels like a fool, too, for saying yes to Jaebum when he knew he had dinner with his family that night. For thinking their friendship was just a friendship when all the signs pointed elsewhere. 

But the problem is that Jimin’s always been a little reckless when it comes to attention. 

Yoongi’s waiting outside his car again. There’s no one around to impress this time, but he opens the door for Jimin anyway. As soon as he slips into the driver’s seat and closes the door, his nostrils flare. 

“What?” Jimin asks, because Yoongi’s jaw tightens. 

“You smell like an alpha.”

Jimin’s face warms. He looks away.

“Who were you with?”

“None of your business,” Jimin snaps, but he can feel Yoongi’s gaze on him, and he hasn’t started the car yet. “What, am I not allowed to have alpha friends?”

“I didn’t say that. I was just asking.”

“Don’t ask.”

Yoongi starts the car. Jimin watches the city whiz by in silence. The frustration won’t seem to leave his bones. He feels like such an idiot. He tries to think of a convenient excuse in case anyone at the dinner notices the scent, but his brain won’t cooperate. All he can think about is Jaebum telling him he could still change his mind if he wanted. 

Jaebum’s nice, Yoongi isn’t. If only it were that simple, but Jimin knows what kind of disaster he’d cause if he ended his engagement and accepted Jaebum instead. Hoseok had said it wasn’t fair that he had to sacrifice his happiness to keep their feuding families happy. But Jimin has never been the type to put his own happiness first. 

It was never really a question to begin with. Jimin is going to do as he’s told, like he always does. 

Dinner is at Yoongi’s parents’ house, and Jihyun isn’t there when they arrive. 

“He couldn’t make it,” his mother tells Jimin quietly. “Emergency situation popped up.”

Jimin wilts; Jihyun was his only hope of having a decent night. “Is he safe?”

“He’ll be fine.”

He tries to smile and engage in conversation, but he must not do a very good job of it because Inhye asks him if he’s feeling okay halfway through the second course. “You’re picking at your food, sweetheart,” she says, and Jimin straightens. 

“Ah, sorry, I think I’m just tired.” He puts in more effort to look like he isn’t miserable. 

“It’s almost exam time for you, isn’t it?”

He nods. “I have a lot of projects due.”

His mother cuts in, shaking her head dismissively. “He spends so much time on his art. But soon he’ll have other things to take up his time.” She smiles over at Yoongi. “Hopefully the art obsession will die down when he gets busy.”

He’s heard it enough times, but it never quite loses its sting.

“He’ll have time for art,” Yoongi says, and Jimin glances up. He isn’t looking at him. “I’ll make sure he has time for it, if that’s what he wants.”

“You’re so sweet,” Jimin’s mother coos, and Jimin looks back down at his plate. He can’t deny that it feels nice having someone else stand up for him for once. He’s given up on doing it himself. 

“Maybe we could look into finding you some studio space,” Yoongi’s father hums thoughtfully, looking to his wife, who nods her agreement. 

“You’ll have to show us your work some time,” Inhye says. “I was looking for something new to decorate the foyer with, maybe you could make me something.”

A genuine smile finds its way to Jimin’s face. It feels nice to be supported, flattering that she wants to put something of his in the foyer of all places. “I would love to.”

“Commissioning a piece before you’ve even seen his work,” Jimin’s father laughs. “Now that’s family.”

Inhye laughs along with him. “Of course. But I have no doubts about his talent.”

“Thank you,” Jimin says shyly, and she beams at him. 

Yoongi leaves for a smoke break just before dessert. Jimin’s content to kneel by the koi fish pond that separates the living and dining rooms, watching them raise their mouths out of the water looking for food, but the others usher him outside. 

“Go look at the pool,” Yoongi’s father suggests, as if Jimin hasn’t seen it already. 

He can see through their thinly-veiled ploy to get him and Yoongi alone, though, so he goes out without arguing. Sliding the door quietly shut behind him, he leans against the wall by Yoongi and holds his hand out. 

“What?” Yoongi mutters.

“Cigarette.”

“You smoke?”

“Only when I’m upset.”

“Then no,” Yoongi says decidedly, and Jimin frowns over at him. “Smoking when you’re upset is a bad rut to get into.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Jimin huffs.

“I didn’t tell you to do anything. I’m just not giving you a cigarette.”

“Fine.” Jimin crosses his arms over his chest. “I didn’t really want one anyway.”

“I know.”

They’re quiet. Jimin scuffs his shoes against the patio ground. “Thanks for saying that,” Jimin finally mumbles. “About my art.”

Yoongi nods. “I meant it.”

The patio lights make the blue water of the pool glimmer, a breeze stirring the water into gentle waves. It’s nice, and for a moment Jimin forgets how badly he wants to go home and curl up on the couch with Hoseok so he can cry about how stupid he is. 

“Hey,” Yoongi says abruptly. “Don’t get mad.”

And the moment’s gone.

“About what?” Jimin narrows his eyes. 

“Can I scent you?”

Jimin turns an incredulous look on Yoongi, who has crushed his cigarette in a nearby ashtray and is staring back without shame. “Excuse me?”

“You smell like another alpha, makes me feel weird.”

“So?” Jimin splutters. “We aren’t mated or dating or even friends, why would that make you feel weird - ”

“I can’t help it,” Yoongi mutters. “My alpha feels weird.”

“You can’t just say you don’t want anything to do with me and then ask to scent me because I smell like another alpha.”

“You don’t have to say yes. I just thought I’d ask.”

“I can’t believe you had the balls to ask.”

Yoongi shrugs. “So is that a no?”

“You are so - ” Jimin makes a noise of frustration, twisting his hands into his hair before dropping them. “Stop giving me whiplash.”

“It’s just scenting.”

“ Just scenting?”

“Yes or no, Jimin?”

Jimin stares at him, realizes his chest is rising quickly with his breaths, hands clenched into loose fists at his sides. Yoongi stares back, framed by the glimmering lights of the patio. He shifts so he’s facing him, taking a step toward him - not quite caging him against the wall, but holding the promise of it in his stance. 

“Yes or no?” he asks again, quieter this time, gaze flickering over Jimin’s face. 

“Yes,” Jimin breathes, the word leaving his mouth before he can think it through. 

Yoongi steps in, their toes touching, and braces his hands against the wall on either side of Jimin’s head. Jimin’s breath stutters at his proximity, growing flushed from the heat of Yoongi’s body. He swallows, lashes fluttering, and tips his head back to bare his neck. A noise comes from somewhere low in Yoongi’s throat, not quite a growl but something like one, and he dips down until his nose brushes Jimin’s skin. 

He runs his nose along Jimin’s scent gland with the lightest of touches, and Jimin rubs his sweaty palms on his pants. Yoongi’s lips part; he can feel his breath hot on his skin, and a shiver runs up his spine. When Yoongi’s tongue flicks out to taste, the shiver turns full-bodied, Jimin’s hands flying up to grip the lapels of Yoongi’s jacket on instinct. 

Yoongi licks a stripe over his scent gland and Jimin arches into him, restraining a gasp. Yoongi’s hands fall to Jimin’s hips, pulling him in, leaving open-mouthed kisses over his neck. Jimin turns his head, nuzzling against Yoongi’s scent gland, breathing in the heady sandalwood. He nips at Yoongi’s skin, tongue slipping out, his scent strengthening when he tastes it. As close as he is, his scent is no longer masked by cigarette smoke, and Jimin can feel himself growing dizzy with it. 

Yoongi sucks lightly at his throat and Jimin whines, flushing red with embarrassment when he registers the sound leaving his mouth. This time Yoongi does growl, teeth grazing his skin, and Jimin’s legs tremble. He’s wet, he realizes, the scent of his arousal filling the air between them. He isn’t alone, though; he can smell Yoongi’s too. 

He figures that’s their cue to stop, pulling back and trying not to look as flustered as he feels. He swallows, crossing his arms over his chest. Yoongi runs a hand through his hair. 

“We should go inside,” Jimin mumbles, spinning on his heel and heading back. Yoongi follows. 

Walking back to their families smelling of each other as strongly as they do is mortifying. What’s even more mortifying is how pleased Jimin knows it’ll make them. And sure enough, when they sit down at the table, a few sly glances are exchanged. 

Jimin slumps in his chair and wonders what a guy has to do to melt into the ground and disappear. 

❦

Jimin’s hanging upside down off his bed again. 

Hoseok’s sitting on the floor across from him, eating a bowl of cereal. “This sounds like a drama,” he says, and Jimin groans.

“Thanks for your helpful input.”

“I’m just saying. Boy next door thrust into a life of rich mob families for an arranged marriage with an alpha who’s mean but hot. Meanwhile, second alpha lead from another family tries to woo boy next door and steal him from first alpha lead.”

“Shut up.”

“Boy next door faces a tough decision: mean alpha with tortured past, or nice alpha with shady intentions? Tune in next week - ”

Jimin flings a pillow at him and nearly knocks the bowl of cereal from his hands. Hoseok splutters, turning an affronted pout on Jimin and hugging the bowl to his chest. 

“Hey, don’t take it out on the cereal.”

“Hyung,” Jimin whines, flailing his arms around. “This is serious.”

“I know, Jiminie,” Hoseok says. “I’m just trying to cheer you up a bit.”

“Thanks,” Jimin mumbles. “I don’t know if that’s possible, though.”

“I’m sorry Jaebum made things weird,” Hoseok tells him. “Although, to be fair, you’re an idiot for thinking he just wanted to be friends.”

Jimin groans. “I know. I’m an idiot.”

“But still. It’s shitty he tried to do that when he knows you’re engaged.”

“Like what did he think I was gonna say, oh yeah, lemme break off my engagement and get engaged with you instead when we’ve met like three times?”

Hoseok snorts. “He really thought he was that powerful, huh.”

“Now I just feel weird and used. Like he was just hanging out with me because he wanted a merger between our families and mine said no so he figured he’d just, I dunno - ”

“Woo you instead.”

“Woo me instead,” Jimin agrees. “I hate politics.”

“But tell me honestly. If you weren’t engaged already, would you have said yes?”

Jimin quiets, considering. “Maybe. If I’d had a choice. He’s - well, he seems like a better choice than everyone else, doesn’t he?”

“He does, yeah.” Hoseok shrugs. “But maybe Yoongi isn’t a lost cause. You did let him scent you, after all.”

Jimin groans again, knocking his head back against the bed. “I don’t know why I did that. Oh my god. I can’t believe we did that.”

“I mean, you’re gonna have to give him pups eventually so you gotta start somewhere - ”

“Hyung!” Jimin shrieks, and Hoseok nearly falls over laughing. “I can’t ever face him again.”

“It was his idea.”

“I’m humiliated. He was probably laughing at me in his head.”

“What the hell would he be laughing at you for?”

“I don’t know, he’s an asshole.”

Hoseok lugs his pillow back at him, exasperated. “Calm down, drama queen. It’s just scenting, and you guys would have done it eventually. Stop thinking about it.”

“Somebody take this drama out of production. I quit.”

“I’ll take your place. Two hot, rich alphas to choose from? Sounds like a dream.”

“Please, you already have Jungkook.”

Hoseok’s smile turns dopey. “Yeah, I do.”

“How’s that going?”

“His dick’s so big, Jiminie,” he sighs. Then, like an afterthought, “And he’s nice.”

Jimin snorts. “You better lock that down. No running away, you big tsun.”

“I’m fine the way things are, thanks.”

“Vulnerability is important,” Jimin insists. “You always run away when things are going well!”

“I do not.”

Jimin raises his fingers to tick off a list. “When we were 15 - ”

“Okay, I get it, shut up. I’m just - not big on letting new people into my life. You know that.”

“You gotta let people in sometimes. You wanna be stuck with me for the rest of your life?”

“That’s fine by me. Your alpha’s rich enough, you can donate a floor of your mansion to me. Then we can still have movie nights. I’ll babysit your pups when you’re off at cocktail parties.”

Jimin giggles. “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea. The worst thing about this is marriage is having to move away from you.”

Hoseok coos, setting his cereal down and holding his arms out. “Come here, Jiminie.”

Jimin rights himself and crawls over to join Hoseok, collapsing into his hold. Hoseok kisses the top of his head. “You’re the best,” Jimin mumbles. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

Hoseok kisses his cheek with a loud smack. “Too late. My head’s inflating.”

“I mean it, you know. If you have a nice thing going, keep going. Don’t let it go.”

“Okay, Mom,” Hoseok says fondly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

❦

Jimin’s trying to count to ten to ease his temper, but he’s on 7 and it isn’t working. 

He’d woken up at 6 AM on a Sunday to get ready in time for the meeting they had with the wedding planner today, only to receive a text from Yoongi an hour later saying he wouldn’t be able to make it. Jimin hasn’t managed to move out his front door since then, standing in the entryway, fists clenched and seething. 

He guesses part of him had hoped maybe something would change after the scenting. But no, here they are again, with Yoongi abandoning him again like it’s fucking nothing. Jimin makes it to 10, and his blood’s still boiling. 

He dials Yoongi. 

“Yeah?” comes Yoongi’s voice down the line. 

“We’ve had this appointment scheduled for two weeks,” Jimin says, voice painfully level. “I don’t understand why you’re cancelling half an hour before we’re supposed to be there.”

“Something came up at work,” he answers, equally level. “I have to take care of it.”

“Can somebody else maybe take care of it? The appointment won’t take long, I imagine.”

“I need to take care of it. Just let me know what you and the planner discuss.”

Jimin’s fuse blows. “You do this every time,” he hisses.

“I’m not doing it on purpose.”

“I’m not upset about it because I desperately want you to be there,” Jimin snaps. “We’re both getting married here. This is a two-way thing. I’m not going to do everything by myself.”

“Look, I’m busy with work, it isn’t intentional - ”

“Do you think I’m not busy?” Jimin exclaims. He tries to keep his voice down, knows Hoseok is sleeping, but he’s so angry he’s nearly crying. “I have five projects due this week. I spent all night working on one and the last thing I want to do is get up at 6 AM to pick the color of some fucking napkins but I’m doing it because I don’t want to leave you hanging.”

“Jimin - ”

“I know you don’t wanna get married to me but can you at least make an effort?” Jimin’s ashamed to realize that he is crying after all. He dashes at his eyes with his sleeve. “I don’t wanna do this either. But I’m trying. And I don’t want to do everything myself.”

“Jimin.” Yoongi pauses, as if he doesn’t know what to say. 

Jimin sniffs. “I’m gonna be late,” he says, and hangs up. 

He only makes it halfway to the bus stop. 

Saturday mornings at 6 AM aren’t quiet in the city, but sometimes the busyness works against you. It means no one notices when Jimin walks by a van and someone yanks him inside. It happens quickly; Jimin doesn’t even realize what’s going on, just that suddenly there are hands tight on his arms and a cloth that smells like chemicals over his mouth. He’s yanked into darkness, feels something harsh against his side as he’s pushed down, and he hears someone say, “Drive,” before he becomes unbearably dizzy. His head pounds. He tries to move, but he’s being held in place, and there’s something over his eyes. He can feel the car jostling.

Panic begins to set in. His heartbeat picks up as he realizes what’s going on, that he’s been kidnapped, and he thrashes blindly. But it doesn’t matter; the rag over his nose begins to take effect, and Jimin loses consciousness. 

❦

He comes to when someone splashes a bucket of water on his face. 

He jerks awake, heartbeat thudding painfully hard at the sudden awakening, breath coming in gasps. He’s dizzy and his head throbs painfully at the temples. Blinking water out of his eyes, his vision slowly clears enough for him to see a man standing in front of him, holding an empty bucket. His face is covered. 

He flings the bucket aside, and it lands on the hard floor with a crash that has Jimin thrashing back on instinct. When he jerks, he finds that his hands are tied behind the chair he’s sitting on. He looks down and finds his ankles tied, too. The cement floor is stained darker from the water still dripping off his body. 

He looks up again. They’re in a bare room, and there are two more men by the door, holding guns. The room is full of unfamiliar scents, his body shrinking in on itself in distress as he breathes them all in. Jimin tries to open his mouth, to ask what’s going on, but he can’t conjure any words to his mouth. Instead, he lets out a ragged exhale, hands trembling against each other. 

“Rise and shine, sweetheart,” the man in front of him says, his voice light and amused. Jimin flinches. “No need to look so scared. Be good, and we won’t hurt a hair on your pretty head.”

Jimin stares at him, unwilling and unable to respond. 

The man nods to someone behind Jimin, and Jimin barely registers that he’d missed whoever was standing directly behind him before there’s a hand gripping his hair. His head’s tugged back, pinpricks of pain spreading across his scalp, and he gasps out. 

“Answer,” someone hisses.

“Who are you?” Jimin stammers, and the hand lets go of his hair to deliver a blow to the back of his head instead. His head snaps forward, a pained whimper leaving him, and when he looks up his vision’s swimming with dizziness. 

The man in front of him kneels until he’s face-level. “Here’s how this is gonna go. You’ll sit here quietly and answer only when spoken to. Try anything, and we won’t hesitate to fuck you up. Got it?”

Jimin nods. The movement hurts his tender head, and he winces. 

The man pats his cheek. “Good boy.” 

He stands. Music fills the room, and Jimin falters with confusion until he realizes that’s his ringtone, and the man’s holding his phone. A brief surge of hope fills him, but it’s dashed as soon as the man speaks again.

“Oh, look, it’s exactly who we wanted,” he says, and answers the call on speaker.

The man behind Jimin claps a hand over his mouth before he can even try to speak. 

Yoongi’s voice filters through the room. “Look, Jimin-ah, I’m sorry about earlier. I know I’m late but I’ll be at the planner’s office in twenty, okay?”

The man holding the phone gestures to the one behind Jimin, and he uncovers Jimin’s mouth. “Yoongi,” Jimin gasps, voice wobbling. “Help.”

Yoongi’s voice changes instantly. “Jimin? What’s wrong?” 

“Y- Yoongi - ”

He doesn’t get anything else out. The man behind him moves around to backhand him across the face, and Jimin cries out, the pain traveling down his neck, tears springing to his eyes. 

“What the hell - ”

The man holding the phone cuts him off. “Sorry to ruin your morning like this, Min Yoongi-ssi.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Yoongi bites, and if Jimin had the presence of mind for it, he’d be scared of the way he sounds. 

“Don’t bother trying to trace the call. You won’t be able to,” he says. “I’m sure you’ve guessed it already, but we have your omega.”

“Stop fucking around and tell me what you want.”

“3 billion won.”

Jimin’s eyes widen, breath catching in his throat.

“I’ll send you the address. You have until midnight.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to come up with 3 billion in less than 24 hours?”

The man next to Jimin socks him in the stomach. Jimin’s spluttering cough fades into a tired sob. 

“Send me the address,” Yoongi blurts. “Don’t touch him, you hear me? I’ll get you the damn money, so don’t touch him.”

“That’s more like it. We’ll see you soon, Yoongi-ssi.”

“Don’t worry, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi says quickly. “Just hold on a little longer, you’re going to be fine - ”

The man hangs up the phone and types something in, the address, Jimin assumes. Then he tosses the phone aside and pulls up a chair directly across from Jimin, straddling it so he can watch him. Jimin stares at him warily. 

“Your family really fucked you over by hiding you away, didn’t they?” he says. “Can’t do anything but sit there and stare at me.”

Jimin swallows and looks away. 

“Not that omegas can do much anyway,” he scoffs. “You were born useless.”

Jimin has always had a problem with knowing when to shut up. He has a fiery temper; everyone knows it. He’s never been the type to listen to something he disagrees with and let it go without a fight. 

But he finds that tied up to the chair, head and face and stomach hurting, breath coming in shallow gasps from fear, all the fight has left him. He’s too scared to fight back - scared of the pain, scared of what they’ll do to him. So he stays quiet, and for the first time in his life, he feels unbearably helpless.

His silence makes the man laugh. He comments to the others, “I like this one. He’s so docile.”

They all settle in to wait. Jimin slumps in the chair, his arms aching from the uncomfortable position, feeling vaguely off balance because of the way his ankles are tied. At some point he drops his head back to stare at the ceiling, counts the dangling light bulbs and the water stains and the cracks that make shapes if he stares at them long enough. 3 billion won is a lot of money. He wonders if Yoongi even has that much money. He wonders if someone in one of their families will decide that Jimin isn’t worth 3 billion won. 

His stomach grumbles and his mouth’s dry, but he doesn’t bother asking for anything. Only when the pressure on his bladder grows unbearable does he speak. 

“I have to pee.”

The man across from him looks over. “What’s that? Speak up.”

“I have to pee.”

The man stares at him, as if trying to gauge whether he’s lying or not. Then he nods to the one who behind him, who unties his wrists and yanks him to his feet. He wobbles on his tied feet, and he’s lifted bodily over to a bucket in the corner. The man holds him up. Jimin gives him an affronted look, and the man shoves at him. 

Burning with humiliation on top of everything else, Jimin unzips his jeans and pees in the bucket. He squeezes his eyes shut so he can pretend he isn’t in a room with four kidnappers. It doesn’t really work. 

When he’s done, his hands are tied again, and he’s placed back in the chair. He wants to go back to staring at the ceiling, but he realizes the man across from him is holding his phone again. It looks like he’s just scrolling through it. 

He holds the phone out; it’s open to a picture of Jimin and Hoseok, faces squished together and grinning. “Who’s this?” he asks. “He an omega?”

“Stop,” Jimin rasps, fear and anger mixing in his belly. 

“He rich, too?” he asks, then shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. He’s pretty.”

“Stop. Don’t look at him.”

The man besides Jimin slaps him. Jimin flinches, swallowing back a sob, and turns a glare back on the one with his phone. “Finally got some bite, huh?” he says. Jimin can tell he isn’t done, that he’s going to keep going, when one of the guys at the door calls in, “Someone’s at the front gate.”

“Shit,” he swears. He lets Jimin’s phone clatter to the floor as he shoots to his feet. “Take care of it,” he hisses, approaching Jimin and tugging him off the chair. He lets him fall to the ground, and Jimin’s shoulder thuds painfully hard against the ground. 

“It’s Min,” one of the men says, and the three of them are flying out the door, leaving the first man with Jimin.

Jimin doesn’t have time to feel any relief. The man’s booted foot slams into his stomach. He coils into himself, and the cough that wracks his body is cut off by the second kick. 

“We’ll see how he feels when he comes in here and finds you dead,” he hisses. “Fucking prick.”

Jimin has the sense to cover his head with his arms. The blows feel endless; pain in his belly and pain in his legs and pain in his arms. The ones that hit his stomach hurt the most. Each one makes it feel like he’s dying, the pain shooting through his body. He can smell blood the next time he coughs. 

The pain is too much for him to deal with. He’s crying, thinks he’s begging the man to stop, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t stop. He tries to roll away, but it hurts too much to move.

Then there’s the sound of a gunshot. Jimin jerks violently. The assault stops; he lowers his arms, and the man’s lying dead on the ground before him, bullet to the head. Blood splatters the floor around him, blood and something squishy that must be parts of his skin and maybe his brain - Jimin’s stomach turns, and he presses a hand to his mouth.

“Hyung’s here, Jimin-ah.”

Yoongi’s filling his vision, blocking the man from his view, and Jimin gasps with relief, reaching for him. Yoongi pulls him into his arms carefully, stroking his hair back from his head. 

“I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

Jimin can’t manage to speak, just clutches fistfuls of Yoongi’s shirt in his hands, unable to convince himself of his safety yet. 

“Hyung’s so sorry,” Yoongi’s murmuring, lifting him up. He’s giving off pheromones to comfort Jimin, and Jimin breathes them in desperately. “We’re gonna get you out of here, yeah?”

Yoongi’s moving, and Jimin shifts to look, but Yoongi pulls his head back in. 

“Don’t look,” he says. “Close your eyes.”

So Jimin closes his eyes. He buries his head in Yoongi’s neck, scenting him. He can hear noises around him - shouting, gunshots, dull thuds. He breathes in Yoongi’s scent and listens to his voice and tells himself, over and over, that they’re almost out. They’re almost safe. 

Light bathes his eyelids, and he dares to open his eyes. They’re outside, sun shining bright overhead, and Yoongi’s carrying him to an ambulance. His grandmother’s waiting in the back, and she reaches for him, her face melting. 

“Jiminie, my baby.”

It’s only when he sees her that Jimin finally starts to cry.

Notes:

thank you very much to everyone who has commented and kudo'd and supported the fic!!! i know i haven't been replying - life is kind of overwhelming these days - but i read every comment and enjoy them immensely ♡

Chapter 6

He’s treated at a private company hospital. All in all, he comes out of the incident relatively lucky - all he has is a broken rib. Other than that, he’s just banged up, bruised and aching nearly everywhere. His family and Yoongi’s parents come to visit. None of them are very good at being comforting, not that he’d expected them to be. His father tells him proudly that every last kidnapper is dead. He mentions something about a breakaway gang. It doesn’t make Jimin feel as good as he probably thinks it does. 

Jihyun doesn’t say much, just sits by his bed and holds his hand while the others speak. Jimin finds that the most comforting of all. His grandmother seems annoyed with everyone, refusing to say more than a few words to anyone but Jihyun. This is what she’d always wanted to protect him from, Jimin supposes, and now it’s gone and happened anyway, all because his parents wanted him to get married. 

Eventually, a nurse takes mercy on him and ushers everyone out. “He needs to rest,” she says. “I think we should restrict visitors to a few at a time.”

They agree without a fuss, leaving his room littered with flower bouquets. His grandmother remains, settling in a chair by the window after switching the TV on for him. Jimin stares blankly at something on the wall. He feels a little like he’s floating out of his body.

There’s a knock on the door. Yoongi pops his head in. “Can I come in?” he asks. Jimin’s grandmother looks to Jimin, and Jimin nods. 

Yoongi takes the chair by Jimin’s bed. “How are you feeling?”

Jimin shifts to look at him. “They gave me some heavy-duty painkillers.”

Yoongi’s gaze flickers over his face. Jimin wonders how bad he looks; he hasn’t dared to ask for a mirror yet. “I called your roommate. He’ll be here soon. Thought you might want to see him.”

The thought of Hoseok fills Jimin with a rush of emotion, something he hasn’t felt much of since he got to the hospital. “Yeah.”

“And I talked to your school about delaying your finals. They said you can turn your projects in at your leisure.” Yoongi clears his throat. “So, um, you don’t have anything to worry about. You can just rest.”

Jimin nods, cheek rubbing against the pillow in a way that hurts. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi says quietly. “This is my fault.”

He looks down at his lap as he says it, hair falling into his eyes. There’s a bitter twist to his mouth. Jimin finds himself almost surprised at the mess of emotion clear on Yoongi’s face. He really does feel terrible, Jimin thinks. Terrible and guilty. 

“Thanks for saving me,” Jimin whispers, and Yoongi looks up at him and nods ruefully. “Do I get to go home soon?” 

“They’re just waiting on another test result. If it turns out fine, they’ll discharge you.”

“Okay.” Jimin’s eyes drift shut tiredly. He just wants to go home and curl up in his nest. 

“Min Yoongi,” his grandmother says, and he looks over at her. “I wouldn’t classify this as keeping Jimin out of things.”

“I know,” Yoongi says. “I’m very sorry for my failure.”

“I expect you’ll be putting a security detail on him immediately.”

He inclines his head. “We’re already working one out.”

“I trusted you with him.” Her voice is hard and cold in a way Jimin has never heard before. “Do better.”

“I won’t let anything like this happen again.” Yoongi’s phone pings. He glances at it. “Your friend’s here,” he tells Jimin. “Let me go get him.”

Yoongi leaves the room, and Jimin turns to his grandmother. “It’s not like he got me kidnapped on purpose,” he admonishes. 

“He’s not a child,” she mutters. “He should have known this would happen. I expect much better from the heir to the Min family, especially given what he let happen to that friend of his. He should have learned by now.”

Jimin stares at her, astonished that she would use that against him. “Grandma, that’s a terrible thing to say.”

“He’s lucky I didn’t say it to his face.”

Jimin doesn’t get a chance to answer because Hoseok’s at the door, exclaiming his name in a voice full of horror and love and all the feelings Jimin’s wanted to see since he got here. Jimin holds his arms out, and Hoseok climbs into the bed next to him, embracing him carefully. 

“Jiminie,” he mumbles, brushing Jimin’s hair back. “My baby. My poor baby.”

He kisses his forehead and both his cheeks, careful to keep the touch light, and Jimin’s alarmed to see that Hoseok has tears in his eyes. “Stop,” Jimin huffs. “You’ll make me cry, too.”

Hoseok, of course, can’t make himself stop, and soon they’re both crying and clinging to each other and Jimin realizes how badly he needed this. 

They lie together until his test results come; they turn out fine, and the doctor gives him a rundown on taking care of his injuries before discharging him. His parents want him to come back with them, but Jimin just wants to go home with his grandmother. He dresses with Hoseok’s help and meets the others in the lobby. There are two men waiting there for him, dressed in black with the hidden bulge of guns under their jackets. Jimin assumes they’re the security detail. 

He lingers in the lobby as his grandmother walks on ahead to the car. The guards wait for him silently. He turns to Yoongi, who’s waiting, too. 

“Can I - ” He swallows, wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. “Can I have something of yours? For my nest?”

Yoongi nods right away and shrugs out of his jacket. 

“Thank you,” Jimin mumbles, taking it from him and hugging it to his chest. Already Yoongi’s scent feels like comfort. 

He moves to turn away, but Yoongi stops him, catching his wrist lightly. He peers at him carefully for any signs of discomfort, but Jimin doesn’t pull away. “Hey,” he says seriously. “You let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“I will.”

“And I meant it,” he murmurs, eyes flickering between Jimin’s. “I won’t let anything like this happen again. You’re safe now.”

“Okay, hyung,” Jimin says, and Yoongi blinks. He nods and lets Jimin go. 

“Rest well,” he says, and Jimin walks off to join his grandmother. 

❦

Every time Jimin closes his eyes, he’s struck with an image of the man lying with a bullet wound in his head and blood and brains splattering the floor around him. It’s so vivid it’s like he’s still there, lying on the cold, wet cement with his body on fire. He tries not to close his eyes, staring at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom instead. He’s made himself a nest as comfortable as he could, and Yoongi’s jacket is tucked against his side.

The painkillers are starting to wear off. He could get up and take more, but he finds that the pain grounds him. When it isn’t there, he feels like he’s floating off into nothing. Like he isn’t really a person. 

He has always known what kind of family he was born into, but he’s never had to confront the reality the way he did today. He’s never watched anyone die. No one around him is really a good person, he realizes, not his parents or Yoongi’s parents. Not his brother or his grandmother. Not Yoongi, who had shot a man in the head like it was nothing, even if it had been to save Jimin. 

It’s difficult to reconcile that reality with the people he knows. He likes to think of himself as a decent person, but he knows he’s only as good as he is because his grandmother raised him to be that way. How can he think of her as a bad person, as a killer? She’d always been so good to him. 

Eventually, the sun rises high enough that Jimin deems it appropriate to slip out of bed in search of breakfast. He brings Yoongi’s jacket, shrugging it on over his pajamas. His scent reminds Jimin of being saved. Makes it easier to think of what happened after rather than what happened before. 

He walks slowly, his entire body stiff and sore, and finds his grandmother opening the front door. A delivery man holding a massive bouquet of flowers in a delicate vase enters and places it on the table where she directs him. He bows and leaves.

“What’s that?” Jimin asks, stepping into the kitchen.

“Morning, baby,” she says. “It’s for you.”

Jimin takes a whiff of the pretty flowers before hunting for a note. He finds it dangling from the vase on a ribbon. I’m sorry to hear about what happened. I hope you recover well. - Jaebum . Jimin sighs. 

“So, who’s it from?” his grandmother asks curiously. 

“Doesn’t matter,” Jimin mumbles, and she raises her eyebrows at him. 

“Not Yoongi, then.”

“Who says?”

“You would have told me if it was Yoongi.”

Jimin frowns. He eases himself onto a cushion by the table. “Do you know Im Jaebum?”

She hums thoughtfully. “I know the Im family. He’s the heir?”

Jimin nods. She sets rice and soup on the table for him, and for once he lets her take care of him, not leaping up to help. Now that he’s on the ground, he’s not sure his aching body will even let him stand. 

“The flowers are from him,” she guesses. 

“Jihyun said he proposed to me before Yoongi did.”

“Your parents made a good choice, then, accepting Yoongi over him.”

“That’s what Jihyun said, too.”

“The Im family is a right mess.” She settles down across from him, and he reaches out to pour himself some soup but winces at the shooting pain in his side. She waves him off and fills his bowl herself. “They’re always getting into trouble. I don’t think they’ll last long.”

“Really?”

“How can they? Half their clan has been picked off by now.”

“Oh.” Jimin douses a spoonful of rice in his soup and takes a bite. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was after his sleepless night. “Jaebum said - he said the rumor is that I was raised away from my family at your request.”

His grandmother peers at him, setting her spoon back down. “And what do you think?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.”

For a long moment, she says nothing. Then she nods. “It’s true. I asked your parents to let me raise you.”

“Why did you lie to me?”

“I never lied. I just - let you assume. I’m sorry, Jimin-ah; I wanted you to have a better life.”

“What about Jihyun?”

“You think they would have let me have Jihyun?” She shakes her head ruefully. “They wouldn’t have let me take their heir.”

“Then why are you letting them marry me off?” he murmurs. “Couldn’t you have gotten me out of that, too?”

“It was our deal,” she says. “When you were born as an omega, I asked your parents for you. They said I could have you until you were old enough to marry, and then the choice would be theirs. That was their condition.”

“That’s pretty shitty of you,” he says, setting his spoon down. He isn’t hungry anymore. “Playing with my life like that.”

“I just wanted you to grow up normal.”

“It didn’t matter, did it?” He makes his laborious way to his feet. “I’m going to be a part of this life forever, now. And now I’m just unprepared.”

He can’t quite march angrily back to his room, limps his slow way there instead, but his grandmother doesn’t try to stop him. He spends the rest of the day lying in bed, rereading old manhwa off his bookshelf and watching videos on his phone. His phone pings with messages all day - from his family, from Hoseok and Yoongi’s family, from Yoongi. It’s a miserable day. He can’t find it in himself to eat, and his grandmother doesn’t force him to. 

He doesn’t want to spend the rest of the week like this. His exams have already been delayed, but tomorrow he has a critique session for a project he’d turned in last week. The helplessness that he’d felt when they’d kidnapped him won’t leave his bones; it sits inside him, leaving him feeling lost and hopeless. And now knowing that his parents and grandmother had made a deal upon his birth deciding the rest of his life for him just makes him feel even more helpless. 

He wants to regain a sense of normalcy. Even so, he isn’t foolish enough to think he’ll survive public transport with his body like this. So that night, he gives Yoongi a call. 

“Hey,” Yoongi says. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible,” Jimin says honestly. “Can you drive me to class tomorrow? Or send a car?”

“Class?” Yoongi sounds surprised. “Are you up for that?”

“I can make it to one at least.”

“Are you sure? I don’t know if you should be straining your body like that - ”

“Please.” Jimin realizes he sounds desperate and tries to reign it in, but it’s too late. Yoongi grows quiet. “I just - I just really want to go to class tomorrow.”

“Okay. I’ll drive you. What time?”

“It’s at 10.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Thanks.”

Jimin hangs up and takes some sleeping pills in the hopes that he can manage to rest that night.

❦

Jimin looks objectively terrible. It’s the first time he has looked in a mirror since the incident, and it’s as harrowing as he had imagined. His face is bruised, half of it swollen, lip cut up. Looking at himself for too long makes him nauseous, makes him think of the blows that had caused this, so he puts on a face mask and sunglasses before leaving the bathroom. 

His grandmother isn’t happy he’s going to class, but she doesn’t stop him. She shoves a banana into his arms and sends him off, frowning the whole time. He finishes it by the time he makes it down the elevator. His two new bodyguards are waiting in the building’s lobby. Apparently they’ve been here the whole time, monitoring the building and taking turns for breaks. Jimin doesn’t know how he feels about that. 

He bids them good morning, and they follow him out to where Yoongi waits by his car. He straightens at the sight of them, opening the passenger door for Jimin to sit. Jimin eases himself into the car slowly, and Yoongi buckles him in. As if the ride wouldn’t be awkward enough, the bodyguards sit in the back. They’re both so big they make the backseat look tiny and cramped. Jimin scoots his seat up to give the one behind him - he thinks his name might be Hyunwoo - some leg space. 

“You look like a celebrity,” Yoongi teases lightly, tapping the side of his large sunglasses. 

Jimin almost smiles - almost. “Might as well be. I have bodyguards.”

“You need help carrying that backpack to class? Looks heavy.”

He shakes his head. It’s alright as long as he carries it in his hand instead of over his shoulder. “You don’t have to be nice to me just because I got kidnapped, you know. Feels weird.”

Yoongi scoffs. “I’ll keep that in mind. Jimin wants me to be mean.”

“It seems like your natural state. I’m just telling you you don’t have to try so hard.”

He scoffs again. “I’m not always mean, you know.”

“Could have fooled me.”

Yoongi sighs. “Maybe you are ready to go to class. You’re clearly well enough to put me through the wringer.”

This time, Jimin does smile. “Please. I don’t have to be healthy to put you through the wringer.”

“How long is your class for?”

“An hour.”

He nods. “I’ll grab some coffee and wait.”

“You don’t have to. You can leave and send a car or something.”

“It’s just an hour. I have my laptop with me.”

They make it to the art building just before his class starts. Jimin almost forgets that his bodyguards are going to have to accompany him until Yoongi mentions it, and Jimin frowns on instinct. 

“I know,” he says quietly. “It sucks. But it’s to keep you safe, yeah?”

Jimin sighs. “I get it.”

“I’ll see you in an hour.”

One of the bodyguards, this one Jimin’s pretty sure is Wonho, is kind enough to open the door for him. He offers to take his backpack, but Jimin shakes his head and keeps it. They ride the elevator up to the fourth floor, garnering numerous looks on the way. Jimin holds his head up high and walks into class like the two bodyguards and giant pair of sunglasses are perfectly normal. His confidence works; no one questions it. They do, however, stare quite a bit. As if they didn’t have enough rumors to spread from the one time Yoongi picked him up.

The class runs through a workshop-style criticism of the projects they’d turned in last week, and the hour flies by. Yoongi’s already in the car when they get back down with what must be his second cup of coffee in hand. 

“If they weren’t licking your boots after the last time I showed up,” Yoongi says, “they’ll be doing it after this.”

“Shut up,” Jimin grumbles. “Did you get me coffee?”

“Of course not.”

Jimin peers at the cup in the travel holder. “Who’s that for, then?”

“It’s mine. For later.”

“Are you lying?” Jimin narrows his eyes at him. 

“Obviously. Drink the coffee, Jimin.”

Jimin huffs and drinks the coffee. He rests his head against the window. Traffic’s slow, as usual, and he’s tired out from the small outing. He closes his eyes. When he opens them, there's a van driving next to them.

His reaction is purely instinct. He jerks back from the window, turning his head away with a gasp, a shudder running through his body. His hands tremble.

"Jimin?" Yoongi says, and Jimin takes a deep, long breath. He looks back over at the window. It's a different van, of course, and he can see a pair of kids in the backseat.

"Nothing," he whispers, swallowing harshly.

Yoongi reaches out and rests a hand on Jimin's knee. He doesn't say anything, but the touch feels like a comfort, and Jimin appreciates it.

"Can I ask you a question?" Jimin says after he's calmed himself down.

"You just did," Yoongi says lightly, and Jimin resists the urge to stick his tongue out at him.

"When you were younger, how did you learn how to defend yourself?"

Yoongi shoots him a sideways glance, then returns his attention to the road. "I've been taking various martial arts since I was old enough to walk. Jiu Jitsu, Muay Thai, Taekwondo. Learned how to shoot a gun. That sort of thing."

"Oh." Jimin fiddles with his cup of coffee. You were born useless . "Do you think I could do something like that?"

"Sure," he says easily, and Jimin's shoulders relax. "We could enroll you in a class when you're feeling better. Maybe get you into the shooting range."

"Okay."

When they arrive at his grandmother's building, Yoongi asks if there are any classes he needs to know about for tomorrow. Jimin shakes his head no. "But I'd like to go into the studio to work on a project."

"You're not gonna listen if I tell you to rest, I'm guessing."

Jimin twists his lips, and Yoongi sighs.

"I can pick you up in the morning." He turns to the bodyguards. "If one of you could follow us in a car, you can take him home when he's done."

"Yes, sir," they intone.

"See you tomorrow, Jimin-ah."

Hyunwoo opens the door for Jimin and helps him out. He turns back, biting his lip for a brief debate. Then he says, "See you tomorrow, hyung."

He turns and heads back to the building with his bodyguards in tow.

❦

Jimin works hard to heal. He ices the injured places and soaks in epsom salt baths and drinks all the herb-filled broths his grandmother sends him. Eventually he returns to his apartment, and he finishes all his projects and turns them in not long after they're due. He doesn't get to go back to public transport, though; his bodyguards call it a safety issue. When Yoongi's busy, they drive him to school instead. It helps - or doesn't help - that Jimin's stubborn; he forces his life to return back to normal, even if maybe he should be taking things slower.

Healing his body is easy; it's his mind he has trouble with. He has nightmares. If someone passes behind him and he doesn't hear them first, his adrenaline spikes, body registering a threat. He still flinches violently every time he sees a van that looks like the one they'd taken him in.

But he's trying. He's trying, he's trying. He and Yoongi even reschedule that appointment with the wedding planner, and Yoongi actually shows up this time. Hoseok graduates, and Jimin cries even harder than Hoseok’s parents do. They’re mostly happy tears, but there’s a hint of sadness mixed in. Graduating means change; Jimin has always had trouble with change. 

But life continues, as it has a habit of doing, and Jimin continues with it.

When he's regained most of his mobility, Yoongi invites him to the shooting range. Jimin's a little nervous that hearing the gunshots will send him back to the night of the incident, but he wants to try. He needs to try.

Yoongi picks him up from his apartment, and Jimin spends a good minute staring at him when he sits down.

"What?" Yoongi mutters, tugging at his collar.

"I don't think I've ever seen you in casual clothes before," Jimin says, looking him up and down. He's in a dark green bomber jacket, ripped jeans, and heavy boots. His hair isn't styled, falling loose over his forehead.

"You have, too."

"Have not."

"Whatever."

The shooting range is in Myeongdong, so it's a bit of a drive. When they arrive, Hyunwoo and Wonho disappear to secure the perimeter, or whatever it is they do when they arrive at new places. The woman at the desk knows Yoongi, greeting him like a friend. She doesn't even bother taking their IDs or having Jimin fill out a safety form. She hands them their ear and eye protection, and they're let into the range.

The first sound of a gunshot makes Jimin flinch violently away. He turns to the door, ready to flee, but Yoongi catches him.

"I don't think I can do this," Jimin blurts.

Yoongi cups Jimin's face in his hands, forcing him to look at him. He's giving off comforting pheromones. Jimin swallows and tries to focus on Yoongi's face and scent. "Do you want to learn how to shoot a gun?"

Jimin nods.

"Then let's give it a try. Take some deep breaths."

Jimin does.

"Can you give it a try?" he asks. "If you really can't, we'll leave."

Jimin breathes through his fear. "I can do it."

Someone fires a succession of shots in a row, and Jimin winces. Yoongi threads their fingers together and leads him to their booth, putting a gun in his hands. He runs through a thorough explanation of how to use it, and Jimin lets the sound of his voice drown out everything else. He demonstrates, wielding the gun with practiced ease and impeccable accuracy.

"Ready?" he asks, and Jimin nods.

He holds his arms out, gripping the gun the way Yoongi had taught him.

"Don't lock your elbows," Yoongi says, reaching around him to loosen his arms the slightest bit. "And no leaning back." He puts his hands on Jimin's waist and straightens him. Jimin swallows, suddenly aware of their proximity, of Yoongi's scent filling the air and his heat against his body. "Ready? 3, 2, 1."

Jimin pulls the trigger.

The force of the shot throws him off guard even though Yoongi had warned him, and he jerks, the bullet flying way off target. He squeaks in surprise, stumbling back into Yoongi, who catches him and starts laughing.

"You're an ace," he jokes, and Jimin elbows him. "What are you stopping for? Try again."

So Jimin tries again, and again, until he reaches a point where the gunshots no longer make him flinch. His aim doesn't improve much, but he feels more comfortable holding the gun, so he counts it as a win. By the end, he does manage to hit the edge of the target.

Wonho's waiting in the lobby, Hyunwoo just outside the door when they turn in their things. "I hit the target," Jimin stage whispers, leaning toward Wonho.

"He's terrible," Yoongi mutters.

Wonho winks and gives him a high five.

"I signed you up for Jiu Jitsu," Yoongi says on the way to the car. "Doc said wait two more weeks before physical activity, so your classes start after that."

"Oh, cool." Jimin buckles himself in. His chest barely even hurts anymore. "Did you know our parents want to go on a trip?"

Yoongi eyes him dubiously. "Like... together?"

"Like with us together."

"Oh." Yoongi doesn't seem to like the sound of that, nose scrunching. "They haven't scheduled it yet, have they?"

"No, they're just talking about it. Your mom was telling me. They're thinking about some Jeju resort."

"I fucking hate resorts."

"You hate fun."

"Lying around next to a pool all day is fun?"

"Absolutely, 100%. Prime fun."

"All you get at resorts are sunburns and a room service bill."

"Do you not wear sunblock? That's your own fault," Jimin scoffs. "And you're saying that like you can't afford the room service bill."

"Tell me right now, with a straight face, that going to a resort with our parents sounds like an ideal vacation to you."

Jimin falters. "Well - "

"You hesitated. I win."

"I was thinking - "

"Nope, saw the answer on your face."

"Just because it isn't ideal doesn't mean it isn't good. It'll still be fun."

"Right, so much fun." He rolls his eyes. "Our moms are going to spend the whole time nagging us. Dad's going to want to play golf, and once he starts playing golf, he'll never stop. Someone's going to get embarrassingly drunk. My mom's going to complain about the towels like she always does."

"You're a spoilsport," Jimin decides, settling back with his arms crossed.

"I am not."

"A party pooper. A killjoy. A damper - "

"Have you ever even been to a resort, Park Jimin?"

Jimin purses his lips and looks resolutely ahead.

"Knew it." Yoongi sounds triumphant. "Alright, we'll go to the damn resort. Let's see how much fun you have."

Notes:

i didn't want there to be 2 hoseoks in the fic so wonho stayed wonho jhsdf

Chapter 7

They schedule the vacation for the middle of summer, after Jimin’s body heals and the weather grows so hot no one wants to do anything but lounge around anyway. Jihyun can’t make it; he’s in China for a merger. Between Yoongi’s parents and his own, Jimin nearly has a new wardrobe by the time vacation day rolls around. He has an absurd amount of luggage for a trip that’s only a week long. His mother had her assistant pack for him; he’d only filled the small carry-on by himself. 

They take a plane over, and it’s Jimin’s first time flying first class. He’s seated next to Yoongi, who sleeps the entire way with his mouth open. Jimin orders wine and marvels at how far he can stretch his legs. 

The resort is gorgeous, of course, big and luxurious, situated near rolling hills and home to multiple golf courses. Jimin can’t help the way he looks around with a touch of wonder when they arrive, though he knows it makes him stand out. No one else bats an eyelash. Yoongi and Jimin are sharing a room, as per their parents’ demand. Jimin figures it won’t be too hard to order an extra bed, and he’s sure their suite is massive, so he isn’t worried.

Sure enough, their suite is huge. The bedroom is hidden behind folding glass doors, and the connected living room and kitchenette are spacious enough. They have a balcony that looks out over the sea. Jimin flits around the room, peering at everything with wide eyes. He and Hoseok and a few of their high school friends had stayed in a hotel in Busan once, but it was cramped and tiny. 

“Haven’t you ever seen pots and pans before?” Yoongi mutters, watching Jimin open all the kitchen cabinets. 

“Not in a hotel, I haven’t.”

He takes stock of the bathroom next, which is as spacious as everything else. “There’s a hot tub,” he announces when he emerges. Yoongi responds with a blank look.

“There’s only one bed.”

“Call and ask for another one.”

Yoongi dials the front desk on speaker so he can continue unpacking. He’s meticulous about it, hanging all his clothes up in the closet and arranging his shoes neatly. Jimin had been planning on leaving everything in his suitcase. 

“Front desk, what can I do for you?”

“I’d like an extra bed.”

“Of course. What’s your room number, sir?”

“314.”

She pauses. “I’m sorry, but we were told not to send any extra beds to room 314.”

“Who told you that?” Yoongi demands.

“Mr. Min who handled the booking. I’m very sorry, sir, but those were our instructions.”

Yoongi looks like he’s about to blow a fuse, so Jimin butts in. “Okay, thank you,” he blurts, hanging up before Yoongi can start arguing.

“What the hell are we supposed to do now?” Yoongi grumbles.

“It’s fine. You can sleep on the couch.”

“Why do I have to be the one on the couch?”

“Because you come to places like this all the time and this is my first time.”

“I’m not sleeping on the couch.”

Jimin narrows his eyes. “Then I guess we’ll just have to share.”

Yoongi narrows his eyes back. “Fine.”

“Fine.” 

Jimin sits down by his luggage with a huff. He might as well take a look at whatever the hell his mother bought him to wear on this trip. The tiny closet at his apartment is not going to be enough for all this, especially with all the other things they’ve been accumulating for him. 

He’s digging through the clothes when he spots something small and silky. It’s a robe, short and black, and Jimin shrieks when he yanks it out. 

“This trip is a conspiracy,” he hisses. 

Yoongi looks over, sees the robe, and mutters something that sounds like a curse. He looks away. His ears are tinged red. “This is ridiculous,” he snaps. “Why are our parents so fucking invasive?”

“They want heirs,” Jimin says darkly, shoving the robe back into the deep recesses of his suitcase and digging around for a pair of swim trunks instead. “I’m going to the pool.”

His mother’s already lounging in a chaise under an umbrella when he gets there. He waves in her direction and dives right into the water, ready to splash the afternoon away. Yoongi comes down eventually, clearly forced to by his father, who’s in a startlingly good mood. Jimin doesn’t think he’s ever seen Chiwon look so chipper. Yoongi picks a chaise under a secluded umbrella and promptly falls asleep. He’s dressed in a t-shirt with leggings under his shorts. Jimin scoffs; no wonder he doesn’t like resorts. He doesn’t do anything.

“Jimin-ah, you’ll go golfing with me later?” Chiwon calls. 

“Of course!” Jimin calls back, even though he doesn’t know the first thing about golf. 

He plays around in the water for a while until an alpha in the pool tries chatting him up. Jimin’s easing his way out of the conversation when Yoongi calls his name. He’s crouching by the poolside, squinting in the sun despite the hat he’s wearing. Jimin swims over to meet him.

“We’re going for lunch,” he says. “Come on.”

The alpha shoots Yoongi an unimpressed look. Yoongi doesn’t seem bothered. 

“Are we eating here?” Jimin asks, pushing himself out of the pool and taking the towel an attendant offers. 

“A restaurant on the resort, yeah.”

Jimin perks up, an idea occurring to him suddenly. “They have room service here, right?”

Yoongi answers warily, “Obviously.”

“You’re gonna let me order whatever I want, right?”

Yoongi marches on ahead of him with a huff, and Jimin giggles all the way back to their room. 

❦

When night falls, Jimin regrets his earlier bravado. He doesn’t actually want to share a bed with Yoongi. The thought of it brings him uncomfortably back to the night they’d scented each other, and how Jimin had gotten wet just from that. But he doesn’t want to sleep on the couch, either. His body might be mostly healed, but it isn’t healed enough for him to sleep on the couch and not wake up sore. 

Yoongi seems awkward about it, too, not quite meeting Jimin’s eyes as he gets ready to turn in. 

“By the way,” Jimin says, thinking that if they start arguing the awkwardness will be more manageable. “I’m having lots of fun.”

Yoongi shoots him a look. “Good job.”

“I’m just saying, you said I wouldn’t have fun. I’m having fun.”

“Congratulations.”

Jimin huffs. Maybe arguing wasn’t a good idea. Now he’s just annoyed. He crawls into bed first, tugging the covers up under his chin. At least it’s a big bed. Jimin’s used to sleeping without clothes on, so he feels a little overheated. He’s a messy sleeper, kicks around and tangles himself in his blankets, so he’s hoping the size of the bed will keep him away from Yoongi. 

Yoongi turns off the lights and climbs in after him. They lie there in the darkness, the hum of the air conditioner filling the space between them. Yoongi’s scent covers Jimin like a second blanket. He breathes it in, finding the comfort he’s associated with it since the kidnapping, and his eyes drift shut. 

He doesn’t find it as difficult to fall asleep as he’d been afraid of.

❦

Jimin wakes up from a nightmare. 

Like most of his nightmares, its faceless. He only knows that someone’s kicking him, and he’s lying on the ground with his body bound from shoulders to ankles, and that he can’t move, can’t cover his head to protect himself. He only knows that he’s helpless. 

He wakes himself up with his thrashing. Perhaps to offset the inability to move in his dream, his body’s working double, kicking and flailing his arms. He’s gasping for breath, drenched in sweat. It takes him a second to realize he isn’t dreaming anymore, that there’s a bed underneath him and the ceiling of the hotel above him. By then, Yoongi’s already awake. 

“It’s alright,” Yoongi’s saying, shifting so that he’s hovering over Jimin, holding his wrists loosely to keep him from lashing out. “Just a dream, Jimin-ah. You’re safe.”

His scent washes over him, and Jimin’s arms go limp. 

“You’re alright,” he murmurs, smoothing hair back from Jimin’s forehead. “I’ve got you.”

Jimin takes a deep breath. He rubs at his face, and Yoongi lets him go, lying back down. Jimin curls into him, unwilling to let go of the comfort of his scent so soon, and Yoongi slings an arm around his waist. 

“At least you don’t snore,” Yoongi says, and Jimin laughs weakly. 

❦

The next time Jimin wakes up, he’s tangled up with Yoongi so that he doesn’t know where he ends and Yoongi begins. Sunlight streams through the curtains. He can feel Yoongi’s warm breath against his neck, just over his scent gland, and Jimin’s sweating from the heat of Yoongi’s body. He squirms, but Yoongi’s grip only tightens. 

“Jimin...” he mumbles, voice hoarse from sleep, and Jimin can’t tell if he’s really awake yet or not.

Yoongi stirs, nosing down his neck until he reaches his scent gland, and nips lightly at his skin. Jimin shudders, hand flying to grip Yoongi’s wrist where it holds him around his waist. Yoongi’s tongue flicks out to taste, and Jimin arches back against him, a gasp leaving his mouth. He’s sensitive today, can’t help the way his body reacts so strongly to the stimulation. 

Yoongi leaves an open-mouthed kiss on his scent gland, sucking his skin between his teeth, and Jimin moans, tossing his head back. Then he’s being pressed onto his back, Yoongi caging him against the bed as he leans in to bury his nose in Jimin’s neck. Jimin’s back snaps off the bed when Yoongi kisses his throat, his hands flying up to bury themselves in Yoongi’s hair. He tugs Yoongi up so he can scent him, too, licking the sweat from his skin and growing dizzy from the strength of his scent. 

Yoongi only lets him scent him for a moment before he’s pressing him down again, sucking a bruise over his scent gland, and Jimin’s whining, leaking slick right onto his pajamas. He thinks Yoongi’s hard, too, can feel something against his hip that must be his cock. Yoongi licks over the mark, soothing the inflamed skin, and pulls back. His chest’s heaving. Jimin’s is, too. They stare at each other, catching their breath, the reality of the situation catching up to them as their senses return. 

Jimin blushes first. He pushes Yoongi away, rolling out of bed and booking it to the bathroom. A cold shower knocks him right back to earth. Yoongi’s already gone when he gets out, and Jimin dresses and follows him down to breakfast. Their parents aren’t anywhere in sight, so Yoongi and Jimin eat their breakfasts on opposite sides of the dining area. They bump shoulders once at the coffee machine and avoid each other’s gazes studiously. 

Yoongi disappears to who-knows-where, and Jimin ends up spending the morning playing golf with their dads. He’s terrible at it, something his own father finds endlessly frustrating. Yoongi’s seems to think it’s endearing. No one seems to enjoy the outdoors quite as much as he does, so he goes for a hike in the mountains by himself. Well, including Hyunwoo and Wonho, who have accompanied him on the trip along with the rest of the security detail. When Jimin makes it to the beautiful view, he stands there for a long time. Somehow, up here, none of his problems seem to matter anymore. 

The first thing he does when he returns to their empty suite is order room service. He splurges on fancy wine and steak and lobster, having worked up an appetite on his hike. While he waits for it to arrive, he showers and tries on the hotel’s complimentary robe. It’s as soft as it looks.

Yoongi returns to find Jimin sitting at the dining table in the living room, munching happily on his steak. “Ordered room service?” he says dryly. 

“I didn’t get you any. This is all for me.”

“Thanks.”

“I can’t believe you don’t like resorts. What is there not to like?”

“I could name a few things.” Yoongi sets his laptop bag down by one of the sofas, and Jimin eyes it dubiously, wondering if he’d really been working . 

“I’m pretty sure I’ve just had the best day in my whole life.”

Yoongi shakes his head, but Jimin can see his lips twitching. “Well, I’m happy for you.”

“I was lying, by the way. That tray’s yours.”

Yoongi looks over with genuine surprise, gaze shifting from Jimin to the tray of food in question. 

“Don’t look so surprised,” Jimin complains. “I’m nicer than you.”

Yoongi comes over to join him at the dining table anyway, uncovering the plate of steak. He sits and starts to eat, pouring himself a glass of wine. He looks tired, dark circles under his eyes, and Jimin wonders if he’d gotten much sleep last night after Jimin woke him up. Yoongi glances up, catching him, and Jimin looks away quickly. Heat rises up his neck. He can’t quite pretend everything’s normal after whatever happened that morning. 

“For someone who’s so nice, you’ve got a sharp tongue.”

“Only if it’s earned.”

Yoongi settles back in his seat, gazing at Jimin with an impassive expression. “I’ve earned it,” he agrees, and Jimin blinks. 

“You have,” Jimin says slowly. “But you’re, uh, inching out of the danger zone.”

Yoongi’s lip curls up. “I should hope so. I did save your life.”

Jimin nods. “Although, to be fair, you had to do that. We’re engaged.”

“Is that what you think?” Yoongi murmurs. He reaches out and steals a bite of Jimin’s potatoes. “I would have saved you even if we weren’t engaged, Jimin-ah.”

“Really?” 

“You don’t have to sound so doubtful. Do you really think I would have let you die?”

Jimin picks at his steak. “No. I guess not.”

“That’s a relief. All hope isn’t lost, then.”

“I thought we were just supposed to stay out of each other’s way,” Jimin says. “What’s the hope for?”

Yoongi sniffs. He pours himself some more wine. “I may have, uh, expressed my sentiments incorrectly the first time we met.”

“Oh my god.” Jimin casts his gaze to the ceiling with a hearty scoff. “You can say sorry, you know.”

“Isn’t that what I just said?”

“You are so annoying. One day, I’m going to divorce you.”

“Parks don’t do divorces.” Then, after a moment of thought, “Neither do Mins.”

“I’ll be a trendsetter. I’m eating over there,” Jimin huffs, picking up his plate and taking it to the couch. 

“Moving two feet really makes you feel better?”

“Shut up. I can’t hear you.”

Yoongi laughs quietly, but as ordered, he says nothing for the rest of their meal. He heads out to the balcony with his laptop when he’s done, and Jimin receives a text from Inhye inviting him on a walk through the gardens. He gets dressed and joins her. 

She’s a fast walker, moving like she has somewhere to be, but Jimin’s the type to stop and smell the flowers. That seems to make her impatient, though she doesn’t comment on it. Jimin keeps taking his time. It isn’t every day he gets to admire gardens this pretty.

“Have you and Yoongi been enjoying your time so far?” she asks once he catches up to her after growing distracted by a pond of tiny fish. 

“I’m having the time of my life,” he answers honestly. “I think Yoongi hyung was working, though.”

“It’s good to stay on top of things,” she dismisses. Jimin finds himself frowning at her lack of concern over her son being such a workaholic that he can’t enjoy a holiday. 

“Is he always like that?” Jimin ventures. 

Inhye glances at him, perhaps mistaking his interest for something else. “Don’t take it personally, dear. Work comes first, that’s all. As an omega, your focus will be on supporting that. All my omega siblings have adjusted to the same thing.”

Jimin looks away to hide his scowl. He has to fight to keep his mouth shut. Getting into an argument with his mother-in-law on the second day of their vacation does not sound like the best idea. 

“How does it work with you and your husband, both being alphas?” he asks instead, and she hums in thought. 

“We butt heads a lot more,” she says dryly, and Jimin forces a laugh. “I know it’ll be a learning curve for you, having not grown up in the family. But you’re a good boy. You’ll adjust.”

“Of course,” Jimin mutters, hoping the bitterness isn’t apparent. He wonders how her family and Chiwon’s family had even agreed to their union, given how rare it is for a female alpha to grow pregnant. All their families care about is heirs, and an alpha-alpha union makes that dubious. 

“Anyway, we have reservations for a family dinner tonight. But after today, you and Yoongi can do something private for the rest of the week.”

He nods and tries to look interested. 

Later that night, while Yoongi’s sitting at the dining table with his laptop again, Jimin looks over at him and asks, “Is work the most important thing to you?”

Yoongi blinks, as if surprised he’s being spoken to. It takes him a moment to regain his focus. “Uh, I guess,” he says slowly. “It’s pretty much all I do.”

It isn’t like they have a relationship. It isn’t like he was expecting one. Still, it fills him with a strange feeling, knowing he’ll be relegated to the sidelines for the rest of his life. 

“Okay,” he mumbles, throat tight, and looks back at the TV. He pretends he doesn’t notice the way Yoongi stares after him in confusion. 

❦

They take breakfast on their balcony the next morning, and they don’t talk. Yoongi spends most of it looking at something on his phone. They’d woken up wrapped in each other again; Jimin can smell Yoongi on him when he moves. He’s very seriously debating sleeping on the couch tonight. 

He walks down to a cafe on the resort later, thinking he’ll grab a cup of nice coffee and go for a walk before soaking in the pool for the rest of the day. It’s a pretty cafe, fancy and not too busy despite the time of day. The luxury of being in the wealthier side of the resort is that there aren’t that many guests. 

He’s peering up at the menu when someone calls his name. 

“Jimin-ssi! I was hoping I’d run into you.”

Jimin looks over in surprise and finds Jungkook standing by the pickup counter, sporting a bright grin. 

“Oh, Jungkook-ssi. I didn’t know you were gonna be here.”

“I’m here with some friends,” he explains. “I hung out with Yoongi hyung yesterday.”

It’s Jimin’s turn in line, so he orders and joins Jungkook. “That’s a funny coincidence.”

“Not really. This is the summer vacation hotspot.”

“I can see why.”

“You’re enjoying it so far?”

“I love it,” Jimin says dreamily. “I could stay here forever.”

Jungkook laughs. “At least someone has taste. Yoongi hyung hates everything.”

“You’re telling me.”

Jungkook’s drink arrives first. “Wanna take coffee together?” he offers, and Jimin nods.

Jungkook finds a seat out on the patio, and Jimin meets him after a moment. The weather’s pleasant in the morning, not as suffocatingly hot as it grows around noon. 

“Some friends and I are hitting the bar tomorrow night. You guys should join,” Jungkook tells him. “I told Yoongi hyung already, but he’s no fun. Maybe you can convince him?”

“No promises, but I’ll try. I’d love to come.”

Jungkook curls his hands around his drink, something that looks sweet and milky. His hair falls into his eyes, long and loose. He looks like he’s thinking hard, like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how. Jimin waits patiently. 

“I, um, asked Hoseok hyung to come on this trip with me.”

Jimin’s eyes widen before he can control his expression. That’s a big step. A huge step. And Hoseok hadn’t even mentioned it, though Jimin can guess exactly why. Hoseok must have known what Jimin would say. 

“Clearly, he said no.” There’s a bitter twist to Jungkook’s mouth.

Jimin stares at him. He hadn’t realized things were getting so serious; Hoseok tends to keep quiet about that sort of thing. And as usual, Hoseok’s running away from it. 

“To be fair,” Jimin murmurs. “You live a very different life than he’s used to. I’d be hesitant, too. The mob shit’s scary for normal people, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it. I really do.” He shrugs helplessly. “I have the tendency to go all in when I like someone. Can’t help it.”

“That’s cute,” Jimin coos. “Hyung’s kind of the opposite.”

“I think I’m scaring him off.”

“He’s really happy when he’s with you,” Jimin confesses. “Don’t give up yet. Maybe just take things a little slower.”

“I’ll try to reel it in,” Jungkook promises, his gaze earnest, and Jimin’s impressed. For an alpha, he’s rather good at admitting his wrongs. 

“But I have to ask,” Jimin starts, chewing on his lips. “How serious are you? Because we both know bringing an outsider into this life is going to cause a lot of problems. You can’t just pursue him and then back out when your parents say no. Or worse, put him through some traumatic shit and then abandon him.”

He thinks about the kidnapping, and he thinks about Hoseok going through something like that, and his blood runs cold, cold, cold. 

“I’ll never do that.” Jimin’s taken aback by the fiery intensity in Jungkook’s gaze. “I don’t do shit half-heartedly. I’m in for the long run - if he’ll have me.”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t care what my parents say. If - if he wants me back, they can disown me for all I care.” Jungkook swallows, casting his gaze back down again. “I know you don’t really know me or have any reason to believe me, but I’ll be good to him. I swear. I only ever want to see him happy.”

He’s right. Jimin doesn’t know him, and he doesn’t trust him either. But looking at him now, Jimin’s heart feels fit to burst. He looks up at the sky, blinking the tears from his eyes before Jungkook can catch them. His lip wobbles; he swallows past the lump in his throat. He wants to trust Jungkook; he wants Hoseok to have every happiness in the world. 

He reaches across the table and pats Jungkook’s hand once he manages to compose himself. “You better. Or I’ll kill you.”

Jungkook grins. “You’re kind of scary, you know.”

“Good. I want you to think I’m scary. I really will kill you.”

“I believe you,” he says wryly. “Now that we’ve had a heart-to-heart, can I call you hyung?”

Jimin huffs. “I don’t know if we’re ready for that familiarity.”

“Come on,” he wheedles. “We’re practically related.”

“Related! Please.”

“You’re marrying my hyung, I’m hopefully going to marry your hyung, we’re basically related.”

“You’ve known him for, like, three months and you’re already at marriage?”

Jungkook blushes. “I told you. I go all in.”

“You’re so cute,” Jimin whines. “Fine, you can call me hyung.”

Jungkook looks so pleased that Jimin can feel himself growing soft with fondness. They part later, after Jimin promises he’ll do his best to drag Yoongi to the bar tomorrow. He takes a dip in the pool but escapes when he sees the alpha from yesterday eyeing him again. Stopping by the room to change, he decides to hit the gym instead. He’d just started attending Jiu Jitsu regularly, and his trainer had made him promise not to slack on working out just because he’d be on vacation. 

The gym is empty save for Yoongi, who’s lifting weights in front of the mirror. He nods when Jimin walks in. 

“Jungkook invited us to the bar,” Jimin announces, heading for one of the treadmills. 

“I heard.”

Jimin sets his water aside and starts on a brisk jog to warm himself up. “I promised him we’d go.”

Yoongi frowns at him through the mirror, but to Jimin’s surprise, he doesn’t argue. When Jimin’s worked up a good sweat, he joins Yoongi by the weights. 

“How’s Jiu Jitsu going?” Yoongi asks.

“Good. My trainer’s really cool.”

He glances at him in the mirror as Jimin stretches out his legs. “Yeah? An alpha?”

“Omega, actually. Why, you jealous?” Jimin snarks. 

“I’m not jealous.”

“Are you sure? You sound pretty jealous.”

“Whatever. You’re ridiculous.”

“Anyway, I’m pretty good,” Jimin says, even though he isn’t. “I’ll be matching up to you in no time.”

“Alright.” Yoongi sets his dumbbells down and turns to face Jimin. 

Jimin stares at him. “What?”

“Let’s roll.”

He falters. “Right now?”

“What, are you scared?” Yoongi mocks. “You talk a lot of shit, Park Jimin. Better be able to back it up.”

“Fine,” Jimin huffs. “Let’s go.”

“No time limit,” Yoongi says, a wicked glint in his eyes. “We wait for a tapout.”

Jimin tries not to look as nervous as he feels. He probably won’t even last a minute against Yoongi, who’s been doing martial arts since he was a kid, but he isn’t about to back out. Park Jimin has a lot of pride packed in his tiny body. Yoongi unfolds a set of mats sitting in the corner for them to use. 

They circle each other, crouched, and Jimin keeps his eyes glued to Yoongi, waiting for any sign of movement. Yoongi’s hands dart to the right, and Jimin moves to avoid them. He darts to the left, and just as Jimin reacts, he moves the other way and catches Jimin entirely off guard. His arms come around Jimin’s waist, tossing him to the ground. Jimin yanks him down with him, wrapping his legs around Yoongi’s waist, arms reaching out to grab him around the neck. 

Yoongi holds his arms back, keeping him from retaliating. Jimin tries to twist, shift their positions and get Yoongi on the ground again, but getting through Yoongi’s defenses is too hard. He’s panting, sweat dripping into his eyes. He bucks his hips up, trying to flip them, but Yoongi’s like a rock. He barely even shifts. 

“You call this matching up to me?” he goads, and Jimin glares at him. Yoongi could probably force him into tapping out at any time, but he’s playing with him. 

“Hyung,” Jimin complains, and Yoongi’s eyes flash. For the briefest of seconds, his body tenses.

Jimin bucks his hips up again, head pressing into the mat as he puts all his strength into his legs. Yoongi’s gaze catches on his neck; Jimin doesn’t miss it, nor does he miss the way Yoongi licks his lips. Jimin’s never been opposed to playing dirty. 

“Hyung,” he whines, and again Yoongi tenses. Jimin stores that info in the back of his mind for later. 

This time, when he bucks his hips up, it’s more of a roll than anything. He tosses his head back, baring his neck, and lets out a grunt of effort. The reaction is instantaneous - Yoongi lets him go, jumping back a foot, chest heaving. 

“That’s cheating,” he hisses, and Jimin laughs, melting into the mat.

“You’re the one who wanted to roll with someone who’s been doing this for, like, two weeks.”

“You’re the one gloating about how good you are when you can’t last a minute.”

“Didn’t I technically win?”

Yoongi doesn't dignify that with an answer. Jimin can smell his arousal mixed in with the combined scents of their sweat. He tosses his arms above his head, shirt riding up his hips, and pants as he tries to catch his breath. 

“You made your point, now quit it,” Yoongi mutters. He’s all the way across the gym now, but his eyes are still locked on Jimin. 

The attention feels almost addicting. Jimin doesn’t want to stop. He licks his lips, staring back with hooded eyes, and Yoongi visibly swallows. 

The door opens. The woman who walks in doesn’t seem fazed by the pheromones in the air; arousal in a gym tends to be a pretty common scent. Jimin’s knocked out of his headspace, though, and he sits up, feeling rather embarrassed. He rubs his nose and fetches a pair of dumbbells. Yoongi grabs his water bottle and leaves.

Chapter 8

Jimin finds Yoongi at the rooftop pool, curled up in a corner by the railing, dipping his feet in the water. He’s nursing a glass of whiskey between his hands. Jimin hasn’t been on the roof yet, and he’d thought he would check it out before going to bed. He hadn’t expected Yoongi to be there. There are a few other stragglers lounging in the chaises or sitting on tables by the bar. Jimin sets his towel on a chair and lowers himself into the water. 

“Never get tired of swimming, huh?” Yoongi calls. “You’re like a damn fish.”

Jimin grins, swimming over to where Yoongi’s sitting. “And you’re like a cat. I’m surprised you’ve dared to dip your feet.”

“Figured I might as well touch the water at least once while I’m here.”

“One whole time? You’re so brave.”

Yoongi raises his glass in response. Jimin shifts to float on his back, staring up at the sky full of stars. The water around his ears renders everything muffled and far away. He closes his eyes. 

The image is vivid, like it always is, as if he’s really there. The bare room, the man who had kidnapped him; he can even feel the phantom ache in his wrists. The man’s holding up the picture of him and Hoseok. “Who’s this?” he’s asking.

Jimin’s eyes fly open. He takes a deep, long breath and shifts upright again. The flashbacks tend to happen when he least expects them.

“I am sorry,” Yoongi says, “for how I treated you in the beginning.”

Jimin’s gaze flashes to him, mouth opening the slightest bit. Yoongi’s staring into the glass of whiskey as he slowly swirls it around. 

“I was a dick. I guess I thought that if I never got to know you, it wouldn’t hurt if I lost you.”

Jimin swims quietly up to the edge, folding his arms to rest on it a few feet away from Yoongi. He waits. 

“But that was a shitty way to go about things. I know you were having as hard of a time with this arrangement as I was. Worse, I know, and I didn’t help things. So I’m sorry.”

Jimin blinks up at him, surprised and warm and relieved. Maybe there’s hope after all. “Thank you for apologizing. I just - from here on, I hope we can try to make the best of things together.”

“I’ll do better.”

Jimin doesn’t want to be nosy, but Yoongi’s admission about not wanting to lose him brings the question to mind. “Can I ask you something?”

“You already did,” Yoongi teases, like he always does. 

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but, um, your mom mentioned you lost your best friend.”

Yoongi’s eyes flicker. His mouth thins to a hard line. 

“She didn’t give me any details, it was just a passing mention,” Jimin blurts, not wanting him to be upset with her. “She only said it had something to do with the Im clan.”

“So what’s your question?”

The coolness of his tone has Jimin wavering, but he plunders on. “Is that why you didn’t want anything to do with me?”

Yoongi sighs. Abruptly, the hard lines of his face and body soften. He runs a hand through his hair. “He was like you. Normal. Didn’t have anything to do with this life, just got caught in the middle of it because of me. I lost my temper, did something - something fucking stupid. And as revenge, they killed him.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jimin whispers, though he knows the words don’t mean enough. He feels the pain almost like it’s his own. Even thinking about losing Hoseok starts a physical ache in his chest. 

“Then they tell me I have to marry you, who doesn’t know anything about this life either. Who’s innocent. And you’re so young, too. All I could think about was that I’d fuck up again and lose you, too.” He shakes his head. “And then you went and got yourself kidnapped. Although that was mostly my fault. I should have had guards on you from the start.”

“If it helps, I probably would have fought you tooth and nail about it.”

Yoongi smiles. It’s a quiet smile, made softer by the warm lights around the pool. “I’d expect nothing less.”

“How did you meet?” Jimin doesn’t have to specify; Yoongi knows who he means. 

His smiles grows a little more amused. “University. I was going through a rebellious phase, so I tacked on a second major in art and moved into university housing. Namjoon was my roommate.”

“Art?” Jimin says, eyes wide. “Really?”

He nods. “Painting was my focus.”

“Oh, wow. You know I almost chose painting, but then I ended up with sculpture.”

“I’m terrible at working with 3D materials,” he snorts. “Couldn’t do it.”

“Did Namjoon study art, too?”

“He did. He was real good. Better than me.”

“Your parents must have hated your rebellious phase.”

“Oh, yeah, they were livid. And Joon was an omega, too, so that didn’t help. You know how they are.”

“For an alpha couple, they’re more traditional than I would expect.”

“Makes no sense,” he scoffs, then sobers. He’s staring at his whiskey like he can see a movie reel floating in the liquid. Maybe he can; maybe he’s looking at him now, his best friend who’s gone because of him. “Joon and I wanted to rent a studio together after university. But of course, I got saddled with the business, so that dream never came true. Joon started teaching instead.”

Jimin rests his cheek on his folded arms. “Could I see your art sometime?”

Yoongi looks over at him, lips twitching. “You’re getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you, Jimin-ah? We only decided to be civil five minutes ago.”

“Hyung,” Jimin whines. Yoongi looks away. “You’re supposed to be nice, remember?”

“Is that part of the deal?”

“Yes.”

“Anyway,” Yoongi says, “since we’re talking about the Im clan - ”

“Were we?”

“ - what’s the deal with you and Jaebum, huh?”

“Oh, you’re jealous again?”

“I thought we established that I was never jealous. Of anything.”

“Uh-huh,” Jimin says knowingly, and Yoongi’s jaw tightens. “I’m surprised you took so long to ask. Everyone else grilled me about it already.”

“Yeah, well. Staying out of each other’s way meant that wasn’t any of my business.”

“Scenting me because I smelled like another alpha was staying out of my business?”

Yoongi winces. “Well.” Then he straightens abruptly, eyes narrowing. “Was that Jaebum?”

“Yes,” Jimin admits, lifting his head up with a sigh. “I didn’t, like, cheat on you or anything if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I wasn’t worried about that,” Yoongi says, and he sounds like he means it. “I just - you know. Hate him.”

“I had a feeling,” Jimin mumbles. “I thought we were friends, but then it turned out he wanted to marry me before you did. So that, uh, made things complicated.”

“I heard his family wanted a merger with yours,” Yoongi mutters. “Fucking asshole doesn’t know when to give up.”

Jimin shakes his head in mild amusement. “Well, anyway, that’s all done with, so you don’t have to be jealous anymore.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Of course not.”

“Whatever.” Yoongi pulls his feet out of the water and stands, bringing his glass of whiskey with him. “You better get out of there before you turn into a prune.”

“Hey!” Jimin scrambles to follow, pushing out of the pool and grabbing his towel. He catches up with Yoongi by the elevator. “So does this mean we’re friends now?”

Yoongi glances at him. There’s a strange look on his face, something that feels like a mix of bitterness and amusement. “Sure, Park Jimin. We can be friends .”

❦

Jimin selects his outfit from his collection of new clothes with care for their night at the bar. He’d googled pictures of the place earlier to get a sense of the vibe, and he thinks he can afford to be a bit daring. He chose a black wrap shirt that ties at his ribs, made of silk with a lace back and sleeves. With it, he wears tight black pants and a pair of short, sleek boots. 

Yoongi’s in a loose, dark purple shirt tucked into black jeans. He looks nice, too, in his dangling earrings and the chain around his neck. A hint of his tattoos peek out here and there. 

“You look nice,” he says when Jimin meets him in the lobby, clearly committed to their new civility. 

“You’re very handsome, hyung,” Jimin responds, just to see the way Yoongi’s ears turn red. 

The bar isn’t a long walk from the hotel. They spot Jungkook and his friends through the railing of the second floor balcony that overlooks the rest of the bar as soon as they step instead. Before heading up, they stop at the bar to ask for their drinks to be sent up and ascend the wooden staircase. 

Jungkook’s enthusiasm is palpable when he notices them. “The old man comes out of his cave!” he shouts, flinging his arms around Yoongi’s neck. It’s a comical sight, given how much bigger Jungkook is, nearly bent in half to make it work. Yoongi pats his back. 

Jungkook lets him go to turn to Jimin and plant a sloppy kiss on his cheek. 

“Yah.” Yoongi shoves him away from Jimin, who’s laughing in surprise. Jungkook’s clearly already drunk. 

“That’s my brother-in-law!” Jungkook protests. “Two ways!” 

“Sit down, kid,” Yoongi mutters, dragging him by the collar and depositing him in a chair. 

Jungkook introduces them to his friends, most of whom Yoongi already knows. They all seem interested in meeting Jimin; he imagines they’ve all heard about him by now. He engages in small talk until the waiter comes up with their drinks. 

“Excuse me,” Jungkook says to him. “Can I get two more shots of vodka?”

“Jungkook-ah, slow down,” Yoongi admonishes, but Jungkook only shoots him a cheeky grin. The waiter leaves with a nod. 

“You seem pretty reckless,” Jimin says in a mock-serious voice. “I don’t know if you’re fit for my hyung after all.”

Jungkook’s face drops comically fast. “I’m fit! I’m fit, I won’t drink anymore. I’ll tell the waiter no, thanks when he brings the shots. No more drinking, Jimin hyung.”

Jimin’s laughing and waving his arms in protest. “I was just kidding!” he exclaims. “Oh my god, Jungkook, you’re so whipped.”

“So what?” he declares. “Why do we, as a society, act like being whipped is a bad thing?”

“He’s wasted,” the alpha sitting next to him - Jimin thinks she’d been introduced as Yoohyeon - says dryly. 

“I know you were joking,” a short-haired girl named Chaeyoung adds, “but maybe we really should cut him off.”

Jungkook glares at her like he’ll throw hands if she keeps thinking about it. Next to Jimin, Yoongi snorts quietly. “You’ll let your Jimin hyung cut you off, but not anyone else, huh?”

“Jimin hyung is Hoseok hyung’s best friend,” Jungkook says, as if that’s all that matters.

“What are we, chopped liver?” an omega named Mingyu demands. 

“Yes,” Yoongi answers for him. “We’re chopped liver.”

Jimin grabs his wine and downs it quickly, earning a stare from Yoongi. He sets his glass down and licks his lips. “What?”

“Am I going to have to cart your drunk ass home after this?”

“I can hold my alcohol pretty well, thanks.”

Yoongi raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Can you?”

“Yes,” Jimin insists, but Yoongi’s glance remains dubious. Jimin huffs and asks the waiter for another glass when he returns with Jungkook’s shots. 

Despite all the pretense, Yoongi seems to be enjoying himself as the night goes on. Jimin wonders if it’s the alcohol that loosens his tongue, or if this is what he’s really like when he’s around his friends. He’s bright, loud, animated as he engages in conversation with the others. Everyone seems to know Yoongi well; they have history together. Jimin finds himself bothered by it as the night continues and he grows drunker. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to talk to Yoongi like that. They’re going to get married, but maybe they’ll never have a conversation like that. Maybe Yoongi will never laugh with him the way he laughs with the others. 

Jimin’s nursing his third glass of wine, and Yoongi’s telling Lisa about the time he went go-kart racing and smashed into the divider. He hasn’t said a word to him in what feels like forever. Jimin knows it isn’t intentional, that they’ve both been busy in conversations with other people, but Drunk Jimin’s feeling it. He rests his head on Yoongi’s shoulder. 

There’s a stutter in Yoongi’s voice, but it’s gone as soon as it appears. He doesn’t look down at Jimin, keeps talking, and Jimin pouts. 

“Are you okay, Jimin-ssi?” Yugyeom asks. Jimin nods and gives him a thumbs-up. 

He lifts his head up so he can finish the rest of his wine, then goes back to leaning into Yoongi. One of Yoongi’s hands is occupied holding his drink, but the other rests on his knee. It’s the one with his betrothal ring. His hands are bigger than Jimin’s, veins running along the back, knuckles prominent. Jimin runs his finger over Yoongi’s ring, then toys with his fingers, noting how much longer they are than Jimin’s. 

Lisa turns away to talk to Dokyeom, and Yoongi shifts. His voice comes low near Jimin, breath tickling his hair. “Baby wants attention?” he murmurs, and maybe it’s meant to be mocking, but in his current state, Jimin likes the sound of it. He tilts his head up to look at Yoongi, and they’re closer than he expected, breaths mingling. 

“Yes,” Jimin mumbles, petulant.

“Poor little omega,” he coos, and now it’s definitely mocking. Jimin’s belly stirs. He swallows. Yoongi runs his finger lightly down Jimin’s cheek. Then he shrugs him off.

Jimin pouts harder and orders another glass of wine. 

He’s falling asleep, head lolling against the back of the couch, when Yoongi tells everyone they’re leaving. He helps Jimin stand, and Jimin bids everyone goodbye, growing weirdly emotional. Getting down the stairs is a little hard; Yoongi holds him around the waist until they make it to the bottom. 

“We should go swimming,” Jimin says once they’re out in the fresh air, turning toward where he thinks the pool is. Yoongi grabs him around the waist and pulls him back in. 

“Are you interested in drowning?”

“I won’t drown. I’m not even drunk.” Jimin leans into him, letting Yoongi support most of his weight. “You smell good.”

Yoongi shoots him an exasperated look. “I smell like alcohol.”

“No, you know. Your scent. ‘S nice. Nice scent.”

“Thanks, Jimin-ah.” He sounds like he’s trying not to laugh. Jimin counts it as a win, that he almost made Yoongi laugh.

“You’re so pretty,” Jimin mumbles, pinching Yoongi’s silk shirt. “Did you know that?”

Yoongi glances at him, lips twisting, something unreadable in his gaze. “I say sorry once, and you’re all over me. You’re too trusting, pup.”

Jimin frowns. “Don’t you want me to like you?”

Yoongi looks away. He’s quiet for a moment, then, “There’s the hotel.”

Jimin faces forward and sees that they’re nearly there. He perks up, suddenly excited. “Can we order room service?”

Yoongi shakes his head, and maybe Jimin’s just drunk but he’d like to think there’s a hint of fondness there. “Sure thing, Jiminie.”

By the time they make it to the hotel room, Jimin isn’t hungry anymore. He’s sleepy and a little horny, actually, Yoongi’s scent getting to him after being glued to him all night. It feels like an itch under his skin, mouth going dry every time he looks at Yoongi for too long. 

“Room service?” Yoongi offers, but Jimin shakes his head. The movement makes Jimin dizzy, so he clutches Yoongi’s arm for support. 

“‘M sleepy,” he announces. “Let’s go to bed.” 

He moves toward the bedroom, realizes Yoongi isn’t following and turns back to tug on his arm. 

“Hyung, aren’t you coming to bed?”

Yoongi rubs his nose with his free hand. “Uh, maybe in a bit.”

“Hyung,” he whines. “Come with me.”

Yoongi looks like he wants to argue, but in the end, he doesn’t. He follows Jimin into the bedroom, and Jimin folds the doors shut behind them. Crouching by his suitcase in the corner of the room, he digs around for something to wear and can’t seem to find anything suitable. He uses the wall to help himself stand back up. Yoongi’s checking the closet for his own clothes. 

“Hyung,” Jimin says, stumbling over to him. He points at the ribbon holding his shirt shut. “Help me untie this.” 

“Do it yourself.”

“Please, hyung. Pretty please. With a cherry on - ”

“Fine. Be quiet.” Yoongi turns around, tossing his t-shirt and sweats onto the bed. 

He reaches for the ribbon tied at Jimin’s ribs, and Jimin takes a few steps closer until they’re nearly flush against each other. Yoongi’s fingers fumble with the tie as Jimin holds onto his arms for support, not missing the way Yoongi’s scent has spiked. He can’t resist the urge to lean into it. 

Yoongi finally succeeds in untying the ribbon, and Jimin’s shirt falls open. “Thanks, hyung,” he croons, slipping it off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. He backs away, shoving his pants down, too. Yoongi’s a second too late in looking away. Jimin realizes, belatedly, that he hadn’t actually found any pajamas to wear, but he spots his robe hanging on a hook behind the door, so he grabs that instead and slips it on. 

He lies down, and Yoongi turns around at the creak of the bed. His eyes flicker down to Jimin’s leg sticking out of the slit of the robe, and he sighs. 

“I’m gonna sleep on the couch,” he says, grabbing his nightclothes off the bed.

Jimin’s face falls. “You aren’t gonna sleep with me, hyung?”

“You’re a blanket hog,” he says, deadpan. “Goodnight, Jimin-ah.”

“Hyung,” Jimin huffs, but Yoongi’s already out of the bedroom. 

Jimin’s determined to be upset about being abandoned, but he falls asleep before the annoyance can really take hold. 

Chapter 9

Notes:

surprise

It takes Jimin about five minutes after waking up the next morning for the mortification to take hold. 

He rolls around bed for the next five minutes, groaning into his pillow. Then he forces himself out of bed so he can brush the taste of alcohol and sleep from his teeth. After showering and dressing, he emerges to find Yoongi has already eaten breakfast. The rest of the food waits on the dining table for him. Jimin’s afraid to check what time it is.

Yoongi’s gaze alights upon him when he walks in, and it turns wicked so quickly that Jimin nearly books it right out of the room. “No robe this morning?” he asks, and Jimin flames red. 

“Look, I get horny when I’m drunk, okay?”

“You made that pretty clear, yeah.”

“It was nothing personal. Can we move on now? ” He snatches a banana off the table. “I’m going swimming.”

He speeds toward the door, and Yoongi calls after him, “In your jeans?”

Jimin lets the door slam shut on the way out. He blushes all the way down to the lobby. He obviously can’t swim in his jeans, so he ends up stopping for coffee at the cafe and going for a walk by the sea instead. He runs into Yoongi’s dad while walking, who invites him for some golf. They eat lunch together at one of the resort restaurants, and while Yoongi’s dad isn’t as enjoyable to hang around as his mother, Jimin still passes a pleasant afternoon with him. 

He drags Wonho and Hyunwoo along for a trip to the waterfalls later. Despite his embarrassment, he does text Yoongi and ask if he wants to come, but Yoongi says the physical exertion sounds like too much work, so Jimin goes alone. They’re beautiful, and he’s pretty sure he snaps at least a hundred pictures, fifty of which he sends straight to Hoseok.

It’s their last night at the resort, so their families meet for dinner. Jimin tries not to acknowledge Yoongi’s presence more than he has to, the embarrassment still sitting in his veins. It’s normal, he tells himself, that he’d find himself a little attracted to a handsome alpha he’s been in close proximity to all week, especially with the future marriage hanging over their heads. They’ve been sleeping in the same damn bed every night, of course Jimin’s bound to get a little horny. It’s not his fault.

He lingers at dinner even after Yoongi takes his leave, embarrassed about going back, wondering if Yoongi’s going to try and sleep on the couch again tonight. Maybe it’s best that way. Eventually he bids everyone goodnight and follows, biting his lip on the elevator ride over. 

The balcony curtains are parted, and Jimin can see Yoongi sitting on the daybed outside. He swallows, steeling himself. He can’t just hide from Yoongi forever. It’s only awkward if he makes it awkward. He slips into the bathroom to change and joins Yoongi outside. 

“Hey,” Yoongi says.

“Hey,” Jimin responds. He steps up to the balcony railing and leans on it, gazing out at the nighttime sea. It’s gorgeous. He’s sad to be leaving, knows that after tomorrow life will go back to normal, everyday stress replacing the idyllic paradise of the resort. 

“Are you drunk?” Yoongi asks abruptly.

Jimin glances over his shoulder at him, frowning. “I had soda at dinner.”

“Then you’re doing it on purpose,” he says decidedly, and Jimin’s frown deepens.

“Doing what on purpose?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. Jimin stares at him. Then he looks down at himself and it clicks. His sweater’s long and oversized, stretched around the collar from overuse, leaving his collarbones and part of his shoulder exposed. 

Jimin scoffs, marching over to the daybed and sitting down next to Yoongi pointedly. “If you count a bit of neck as seduction, then that’s your problem.”

“Is that what you were doing last night? Seducing me?”

“No,” Jimin splutters, turning red all the way to his ears. He stares resolutely ahead. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Yoongi brushes his fingers along Jimin’s collarbone. A shiver runs up Jimin’s spine, and he visibly swallows, body tensing. “This is more than a bit of neck.”

Jimin dares to look at him. It’s a mistake. The way Yoongi’s looking at him - he shivers again, mouth going dry, and his brain disconnects from his mouth long enough that there’s a delay in his response. “Again, that sounds like your problem.”

“Can’t look at all that and not want to mark you,” he says, voice low, and Jimin licks his lips.

Yoongi cups his hand around Jimin’s neck, thumb stroking his jaw. Jimin can’t tear his eyes away from his. Someone moves, he doesn’t know who - maybe both of them. The distance between them lessens. Jimin can feel Yoongi’s breath tickle his lips, and then they’re kissing, mouths meeting with all the intensity of pent-up desperation. Yoongi’s lips are soft against his, his own lips parting as soon as they meet, the scent of sandalwood making Jimin dizzy. 

Yoongi licks into his mouth without delay, sucks on his tongue in a way that makes Jimin shudder, his hands flying up to fist in Yoongi’s shirt. Yoongi’s thumb still strokes his jaw, a light touch that’s in contrast to the way he kisses him. He’s a damn good kisser, has Jimin feeling like he’s floating away, and when Yoongi’s tongue grazes the roof of his mouth, Jimin whimpers into his mouth. 

Yoongi breaks the kiss first, pulling back, and Jimin whines, chasing after him. He holds him at bay, though, grip tight around his neck, and Jimin slowly blinks his eyes open. He opens his mouth to protest, to ask for him back, when Yoongi’s hand moves from his neck to fist in his hair and yank his head back. Jimin moans, shivering in surprise as Yoongi’s mouth finds his neck. 

Yoongi sucks hard over Jimin’s jugular, soothing it with a lick, kisses down his throat to nip at his collarbones. Jimin whimpers, and Yoongi’s licking over his scent gland, kissing him open-mouthed in the way that always drives him crazy. 

“Hyung,” he whines, and a noise starts in the back of Yoongi’s throat that sounds like it’s nearly a growl. Jimin’s hot all over, his sweater thick and itchy in a way it wasn’t before. He tries again, voice pitching high. “ Hyung .”

This time, the noise is definitely a growl. Yoongi’s teeth dig into Jimin’s shoulder, and Jimin gasps, lashes fluttering. 

“You - you like it when I call you hyung.” His breath hitches when Yoongi leaves a kiss under his jaw. He’d started noticing it a while ago, but now he’s sure. 

Yoongi unearths himself from Jimin’s neck to answer. “‘Course I do,” he says. “What am I supposed to do when you say it like that?”

“Say it like what?”

“Like you’re waiting for me to wreck you.”

Jimin bites his lip, gazing at him from under his lashes. Yoongi pulls him in, tugging his lower lip between his own and sucks lightly. When their tongues meet again, the kiss grows impatient and desperate. Jimin swings his leg over Yoongi’s lap and straddles his waist, cupping his face between his hands, and Yoongi’s hands come to rest on his hips under the hem of his sweater. 

Yoongi’s mouth is hot and wet and Jimin feels like he’s losing his mind, the itch under his skin growing unbearable. He can’t bring himself to pull away even to breathe. He kisses Yoongi until he’s breathless, arching against him as Yoongi’s hands drop down to cup his ass, kisses him until he grows dizzy from holding his breath.

They break apart, gasping for breath, and meet again, tongues tangling before their lips even touch. Yoongi’s hands run up under his sweater, stroking his bare sides, stopping at his nipples so he can brush his thumb over them. Jimin jolts against him, whimpering into the kiss, and Yoongi twists his nipples. Jimin’s hips jump, jerking against Yoongi’s stomach, and Yoongi’s mouth finds his neck again. 

“Leaking already?” Yoongi says, lips moving against Jimin’s skin. “I’m flattered.”

Jimin hadn’t even realized. He flushes, holding onto Yoongi’s arms for support as he kneads his ass and Jimin finally grows aware of how wet he feels. “I’m - I’m - ”

Jimin doesn’t get the chance to go any further, because Yoongi’s rucking his sweater up under his armpits and attaching his mouth to his nipple. Yoongi sucks, tongue flicking the bud, and Jimin moans long and low, leaking another gush of slick. Yoongi toys with his nipple until it’s nearly sore before he moves on to the next one as Jimin squirms in his lap. 

“You’d look so pretty, full with my pups.” Yoongi’s voice is low and rough. Jimin’s eyes widen, his cock twitching to full hardness. “I’d suck on your tits all day.”

Jimin whines, fingers digging into his arms, and Yoongi pulls back to look at him. They stare at each other for a moment, chests heaving, and Yoongi brushes his fingers over Jimin’s lips. He looks like he’s waiting, like he thinks Jimin might tell him he’s being too much. But Jimin parts his lips to wrap them around Yoongi’s fingers, sucking them into his mouth, laving his tongue over them. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi breathes, gaze locked on Jimin’s mouth. “This is what you wanted, huh? You’ve been so needy for attention.”

Jimin pulls off his fingers with a lewd pop. “Wanted - wanted you to notice me, alpha.”

“Poor little omega,” he coos, and it sounds mocking again in that way that has Jimin’s breath hitching, his lashes fluttering. Yoongi runs his fingers over Jimin’s scent gland. “I’m noticing you now, though.” He tugs Jimin in, pressing his mouth against his ear, breath hot as it tickles Jimin’s skin. Jimin shudders violently. “Make it worth my time.”

Jimin whimpers, shifting until he feels Yoongi’s hard cock sit under his ass. It feels big, an eager flash of heat running through Jimin’s body at the realization, and he grinds down with less control than he’d intended. Yoongi’s hands fly to his hips, gripping tight, and Jimin plays with Yoongi’s collar, tugging it down until his tattoos begin to show. He leans in, dragging his tongue over the markings, and tastes sweat on Yoongi’s skin despite his cool demeanor. His scent is driving Jimin wild, heightened by arousal, strong and smooth. 

Yoongi pulls Jimin up by the hair to kiss him, wet and sloppy, Jimin’s hips still rolls eagerly against Yoongi’s. Jimin breaks the kiss first, hovering over Yoongi’s mouth, gasping as his cock drags against his leggings, damp from slick. 

“Hyung, I want - ” His words falter, losing his train of thought when Yoongi’s hands slip up his sweater again, the light drag of his fingers somehow even more arousing than anything else. “ - want to suck you off.”

Yoongi hums in interest, but he doesn’t say anything, and Jimin frowns, pressing harder against him. 

“Please,” he breathes. “I’ll make you feel so good, hyung, I swear. ‘M good at sucking cock.”

“Are you?” Yoongi says, and the disinterest in his tone has Jimin squirming desperately, eager to please, wanting his praise with even more fervor than before. 

“I’ll let you fuck my mouth, swallow all your cum like - like a good omega, promise. Please, I wanna taste you so bad, wanna feel your cock down my throat, wanna - ”

Yoongi cuts him off with a kiss, and Jimin melts into it, eyes drifting shut. He’s so hard it almost hurts, his ass clenching with the need to be filled. “Alright, baby,” Yoongi says when they break apart. “I’ll let you have my cock since you asked so nicely.”

Jimin slides off his lap, kneeling on the smooth balcony floor beneath him. Yoongi unzips and pulls his cock out, and Jimin’s mouth waters at the sight of it, thick and large like all alpha cocks are, standing straight up, balls heavy behind it. Jimin leans in, hands pressing into the ground, and gives a kittenish lick to the head, tasting the salty precum. Yoongi’s scent overwhelms him, heady and musky, and Jimin wants to drown in it. 

He wraps his lips around the tip of Yoongi’s cock, sucking lightly, tongue flicking his slit. Yoongi’s buries his hand in Jimin’s hair, tugging him off with a pop. A line of saliva connects his lips to Yoongi’s cock. Jimin whines at him, and Yoongi scoffs. 

“I let you have my cock, and you decide to tease?” he says, and Jimin whines again, shame turning his body hot as he registers Yoongi’s displeasure. His omega shrinks. 

“No, alpha, I wasn’t - wasn’t trying to tease, promise - ”

“No more teasing,” he says, and pushes Jimin’s head back toward his cock. 

This time, Jimin sucks Yoongi’s cock into his mouth and slides down as far as he can go, mouth stretching wide to accommodate. He gags when it hits his throat, tears springing to his eyes, but he relaxes and pushes further until his nose is buried in Yoongi’s pelvis. He constricts his throat lightly around Yoongi’s cock, breathing through his nose, and is rewarded with a low groan from Yoongi. Jimin leaks more slick onto the balcony floor, growing hazy with the knowledge that his alpha is pleased. 

“That’s it,” Yoongi croons. “Your lips look so pretty stretched around my cock.”

Jimin moans around Yoongi’s cock and Yoongi’s hips twitch, grip tightening in Jimin’s hair. He pulls off to suck at the head before he starts to bob his head, sinking down as far as he can go each time, tongue tracing shapes on his shaft. He can hear Yoongi’s breath hitch, looks up at him to watch the way his face changes. Yoongi tosses his head back, resting on the daybed, his throat a long line, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. His eyes drift shut, lashes long against his pale skin. 

Jimin feels like he’s floating away, his hole clenching desperately as he whines around Yoongi’s cock, hand wrapping around the base to stroke as he sucks. His cock is thick enough that Jimin’s fingers don’t meet around its girth, and the sight of his small hand holding Yoongi’s big cock makes him quiver. 

Yoongi lifts his head back up to look at him, eyes hooded, stroking the hair back from Jimin’s forehead. “Can smell how needy you are,” he slurs, “and I’m not even touching you.”

Jimin pulls off, drool dripping down his chin, and runs his hands up Yoongi’s thighs. “Love your cock, alpha,” he says, voice hoarse, and Yoongi licks his lips. 

“Think that makes you a cockslut.”

Jimin clenches his thighs tight together, squeezing his cock between, and moans unabashedly. He opens his mouth, tongue wagging out, and peers up at Yoongi. Yoongi runs his fingers through the drool coating Jimin’s chin. 

“What’s that?” he murmurs, tilting his head. “Want me to fuck your pretty mouth?”

Jimin nods desperately, scooting even closer, clutching at Yoongi’s thighs. The way Yoongi’s looking at him makes him hot all over, blood boiling, squirming to ease the itch under his skin. 

“You’re so pathetic,” Yoongi says with that mocking sweetness of his, and Jimin’s lashes flutter, his mind growing hazier and hazier by the second. “You’d do anything for an alpha’s cock, wouldn’t you?”

“Just y-yours,” Jimin insists, finds it difficult to speak with how floaty he’s feeling. He leans in, lips bumping against Yoongi’s cock. “Please, alpha. I want it.”

“Open your mouth then, little cockslut.”

Jimin drops his mouth open again obediently, and Yoongi scoots forward to meet him, feeding his cock slowly to him until it’s hitting the back of Jimin’s throat. He holds Jimin’s head in place with a hand fisted in his hair and starts to roll his hips, fucking into Jimin’s mouth. Jimin stretches his jaw wide to accommodate, relaxing his throat, letting Yoongi use him as he pleases. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi hisses, eyes squeezing shut briefly, thrusting quicker into Jimin’s mouth. “So fucking tight and wet for me, baby, could fuck your mouth all night.”

Jimin moans at the praise, and Yoongi’s hips stutter. He fucks him hard and Jimin’s jaw is sore and his lips burn, but his mind’s hazy and pleasant, his eyes lidded as he loses himself to the pleasure, neglected cock aching painfully. He can feel the drool down his neck, reaching his collarbones, can taste Yoongi’s precum in the back of his throat. He moans again, wants to make Yoongi feel good, and Yoongi growls as his hips lose rhythm, his body tensing and his head falling back. His knot begins to swell, and Jimin eyes it with awe. 

Yoongi comes without warning, but Jimin swallows diligently, His cum is thick and salty down his throat. He comes endlessly, filling Jimin’s mouth until there’s too much and Jimin can’t swallow anymore, cum dribbling from the corners of his mouth and down his chin. Yoongi pulls out, the last of it landing on Jimin’s neck as the rest Jimin doesn’t manage to swallow leaks out from his mouth, mixed with his saliva. 

“Look at the mess you made,” Yoongi breathes, eyes locked on him. “Good omegas don’t waste their alphas’ cum, Jimin-ah.”

Jimin whimpers, nearly a sob, thinks he’ll really cry if Yoongi keeps talking to him like that. “P-please,” he rasps. “I tried, alpha, I - I - ”

Yoongi pulls him up onto the daybed, and Jimin goes eagerly, eyes wide, thinking he’ll finally get his praise. But Yoongi pushes him onto his back and wipes the cum from Jimin’s chin with his fingers. He parts Jimin’s lips with his free hand, feeding him the cum-covered fingers. Jimin sputters around them, and Yoongi tuts. 

“Don’t waste,” he warns, so Jimin licks up every last drop. “Good boy.”

Jimin’s body convulses at the praise, sparing though it is, his cock twitching and his hips jerking into the air. Yoongi tugs Jimin’s leggings and underwear down, tossing them carelessly to the floor, and Jimin shivers in anticipation, his neglected cock leaking against his belly, his ass and thighs soaked in slick. 

“You’re so wet,” Yoongi marvels, running his fingers through the slick between his legs. “Wonder what it’s like when you’re in heat.”

Jimin’s never had a real heat before, been on suppressants since he was a teenager, but the thought of Yoongi fucking him through a heat, filling him with his seed, makes him whimper. 

Yoongi brings his fingers up to his nose, breathing in the scent of Jimin’s slick, his usual lavender now strong and musky with arousal. Then he rubs his fingers over his own scent gland, and Jimin gasps, eyes wide. Yoongi’s lashes flutter. “Hyung,” Jimin breathes, reaching for him. 

Yoongi pulls him up, spreading his legs wide so Jimin can straddle one of his thighs. His knot still keeps his cock standing proud against his stomach. Jimin presses against him, leaking slick right onto his pants, and Yoongi captures his mouth in a kiss, licking into him filthily. He must be able to taste himself on Jimin, and Jimin whines, rutting against him. 

“Baby’s been waiting so long, hmm?” he murmurs, lifting Jimin’s sweater from his hips and kneading his ass. “Hyung’s going to take care of you.”

“Please,” Jimin breathes, exhausted by his own arousal, resting his head on Yoongi’s shoulder and pressing his ass back into his hands. 

Yoongi dips a finger between his cheeks, running it through the slick until he finds Jimin’s hole. Jimin gasps aloud when the pad of his finger brushes his hole, and Yoongi stays there, playing with his rim, rubbing him slowly. Jimin squirms, clutching at his shirt, can’t bear to be teased after neglecting himself for so long. 

“Hyung,” Jimin says petulantly. “No teasing.”

Yoongi takes his finger away. “Are you trying to tell your alpha what to do?” he demands, and Jimin kneads his shirt, shaking his head quickly. 

“N-no, alpha, just - just want you.”

“I should leave you like this,” he says thoughtfully, lips brushing Jimin’s forehead as he speaks. “Leave you hard and desperate. You’ve been a bad boy, haven’t you, Jimin-ah? Toyed with your alpha last night, and now you’re being impatient.”

“I’m sorry,” Jimin sobs, moving against him desperately. “Alpha, please, I’m sorry, don’t - don’t leave me - I’ll be good, I promise, I’ll be good for you - ”

Yoongi kisses his forehead, and Jimin nuzzles his neck, burying his nose in his alpha’s scent gland. His scent is mixed intensely with Jimin’s, slick still smeared over him. “Be good, then,” Yoongi says, and he presses his finger against Jimin’s hole again. 

Jimin keeps his promise. He lets Yoongi tease without complaint, whimpers and whines as Yoongi toys with his hole before finally pushing a finger inside. Jimin sighs when he breaches his hole, even though it’s nothing like having a cock inside him. Jimin loves the feeling of being filled, loves the way Yoongi slides easily inside from how wet he is. 

Yoongi crooks his finger against Jimin’s walls and wastes no time in pressing a second inside. “Look at how easily you take me,” he says, mouthing the shell of Jimin’s ear. “Your sloppy little hole’s so ready for cock.”

Jimin mouths wetly at Yoongi’s neck as he rubs his fingers against Jimin’s walls, searching. When they brush over his prostate, Jimin jerks, cock brushing Yoongi’s hip. He lets out a shuddering breath and Yoongi pushes another finger instead. He starts to fuck him with the three, and the wet squelch of his fingers pushing in and out of his hole rings through the air, making Jimin hot with embarrassment. 

Yoongi’s fingers find his prostate again, rubbing it on every thrust, and Jimin sobs, rolling his hips back to meet them, the pleasure nearly feeling like too much after he’s been on the edge for so long. 

“Oh, please - a-ah, hyung - ”

“You’re so loud,” Yoongi observes, wrist snapping particularly hard. Jimin jerks, moaning, and the sound echoes in the air. “Wonder if anyone’s listening.”

Jimin buries his face against Yoongi’s shoulder, muffling his whimpers as Yoongi’s thrusts grow mercilessly harder, suddenly mortified. They’re outside. He’s been so caught up he hadn’t thought about it, but they’re outside, and there are other balconies and other people - 

Yoongi flicks his wrist again and Jimin groans, losing his train of thought, giving in to the haziness. If he lets himself, the thought of someone listening to him moan makes him even wetter. 

“Oh!” he cries, feeling Yoongi pressing yet another finger against his hole. 

He sucks them in, never full enough without a cock but nearly there with four fingers inside him, rocking back on his hand, clutching Yoongi so tight, his fingers whiten. 

“A-alpha, I’m - I can’t - oh, ah !”

Yoongi turns his head and catches his mouth in another kiss. Jimin can’t keep up, moans into Yoongi’s mouth, squeezing his eyes shut. Yoongi’s tongue slides against his, teeth nipping at his lips, and Jimin can feel drool on his chin again. He wraps his arms around Yoongi’s neck, lets Yoongi kiss him even if all he can do is pant into his mouth in return, body alight with pleasure that thrums in his veins. 

Yoongi gives up thrusting in favor of massaging Jimin’s prostate, pulling him apart slowly, and Jimin sobs, lashes wet with tears. He ruts against Yoongi’s hip, his cock trapped between them, the pleasure growing unbearable. His muscles tighten, jaw dropping open, and Yoongi takes the opportunity to lick into his mouth again. Jimin’s eyes roll back into his head as he seizes up, feeling like every inch of him is on fire, and then he’s coming. 

“ Hyung ,” he cries, cock dripping onto Yoongi’s shirt, slick gushing out around Yoongi’s fingers. 

Yoongi fucks him through it, doesn’t remove his fingers until Jimin’s twitching weakly in his arms. Jimin collapses against him, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath, eyes slipping shut. 

“Hyung,” he says again, softer this time. 

Jimin feels Yoongi’s lips against his cheek, his forehead, his nose, his closed eyes. He basks in the attention, likes the way Yoongi’s stroking his back gently, the way he kisses his mouth so sweetly. 

“Good boy,” Yoongi murmurs, kissing him again and again until Jimin’s melting. “You did so well, Jimin-ah, you were so good for me.”

Jimin’s heart quivers at the praise. He kisses Yoongi’s jaw, and Yoongi catches his mouth in another sweet kiss.

“You’re so beautiful, angel. So good for me,” he croons, and there’s no longer anything mocking about it. 

Jimin sighs, pleased, feeling happy and floaty and sleepy. Yoongi runs a gentle hand through his hair. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“‘M too tired,” Jimin pouts, and Yoongi kisses his downturned lips. 

“I’ve got you, baby.”

Yoongi lifts him up, Jimin’s legs around his waist, and carries him inside. He sets Jimin gently down on the bed, helping him out of his dirty sweater. He slips out of his own clothes on the way to the bathroom, and Jimin stares unabashedly at the tattoos across his back. Yoongi returns with a damp washcloth, wiping Jimin’s face and neck carefully before he moves on to his cock and legs. 

When he’s done, he tosses the cloth away and climbs into bed with Jimin, tucking the blankets around him. 

“I was good?” Jimin mumbles, half-asleep but needing the assurance, needing the approval. 

“You were perfect. I could listen to you moan all day, you know that?”

Jimin flushes happily, draping himself over Yoongi, tucking his head into his neck so he can breathe in his scent. 

“Sleep now, baby,” Yoongi murmurs. “I’ve got you.”

Jimin lets himself drift off, secure in Yoongi’s arms.

Chapter 10

Jimin wakes up feeling cold. 

He’s kicked the sheets off in his sleep, and the space next to him is empty, devoid of Yoongi’s warmth. Jimin sits up blearily, looking around the room. Yoongi could be at breakfast, maybe in the bathroom. Logically, he knows this. 

Instinctually, he knows Yoongi isn’t coming back. 

Jimin swallow, trying to keep the hurt at bay, and slips out of bed. He puts on his clothes and leaves the bedroom. Breakfast is growing cold on the table. He checks the bathroom, the balcony, the kitchen, and sure enough, Yoongi is nowhere to be found. Jimin’s no stranger to one night stands. He knows what it means when you wake up alone. 

For a long moment, Jimin stands in the living room, silence settling on him like a weight. It’s so heavy it makes him sag: his shoulders slump, his head bows, his mouth drags downwards. Then he returns to the bedroom and starts to pack his things. 

Their flight is in the evening, but Jimin doesn’t see Yoongi all day. They meet for the first time in the airport lounge, where Yoongi sits on the opposite side from Jimin and doesn’t look at him once. They’re seated together on the plane again. Yoongi follows Jimin inside, takes his carry-on from him to stow it overhead. 

When they sit, Jimin tries. “Yoongi hyung,” he starts, and Yoongi looks over at him. It’s a blank, impassive gaze, the way he’d looked at him before the kidnapping. “We should talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Yoongi puts his headphones in and closes his eyes, leaving Jimin to stew for the rest of the flight. 

Hyunwoo and Wonho take him home from the airport after they land. Jimin spends the ride staring out the window, heavy with defeat. He should have known it wouldn’t be so easy. He’s a fool for hoping. 

Hoseok’s up waiting for him when they carry his luggage up to their apartment. Hyunwoo sets one of his suitcases down and excuses himself to check over the apartment for safety. Wonho helps Jimin carry the rest of his things inside. 

“And he’s back!” Hoseok exclaims, grinning big as he gets up to meet them. “How was it? You’re looking all sexy and sunkissed.”

He flings his arms around Jimin, and Jimin melts into his embrace, nosing at his scent gland. He breathes in the familiar, comforting citrus, and the damn breaks. His eyes burn, throat tight, and he tries so hard to hold it back but he can’t. 

“Jiminie?” Hoseok pulls back in alarm when he realizes Jimin’s crying. “What happened, baby?”

Jimin’s crying too hard to speak, so Hoseok pulls him back into his arms and rocks him like a baby, murmuring comfort by his ear. He hears Wonho and Hyunwoo leave, carefully shutting the door behind themselves, and he sobs harder. 

Eventually, Hoseok sits him down and pries the story from him. He looks livid by the end of it, hands clenching into fists. 

“I’m gonna kill that dumb alpha,” he hisses, and Jimin leans his head against Hoseok’s shoulder. 

“I just feel like an idiot,” he mumbles, “for thinking things might turn out well between us after all.”

“You’re not an idiot. He’s the idiot. What’s the point in apologizing if he’s just going to go and do the same thing again?”

“It just - it sucks because things were really getting better, you know? I liked being around him. And then he just goes and shuts down again.”

Hoseok kisses his head. “Are you going to confront him?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. Is there any use?”

“I’m not going to tell you what to do. You do what you feel is best.”

“I guess I should talk to him,” he says glumly. “But not now. I’m tired. I feel like I have emotional whiplash. This is why I hate feelings.”

“They’re gross,” Hoseok agrees. 

Jimin sits up, drying his face on his sleeve. “Jungkook was there, you know. He told me he asked you to come.”

Jimin can see the way Hoseok clams up immediately, and he sighs. “One thing at a time,” Hoseok mutters. “We’re talking about you right now.”

“Okay.” Jimin pats his knee. “But I’m here for you if you want to talk, you know.”

“I know.” Hoseok tugs him into another hug. “Let’s watch a movie or something. No more crying over dumb alphas.”

❦

Yoongi and Jimin are scheduled for an engagement photoshoot two weeks after they return from vacation. They haven’t spoken once in those two weeks; Jimin’s been going to the shooting range by himself, driven everywhere by Hyunwoo or Wonho. Part of him is afraid Yoongi will go back to bailing on him like before, but when he arrives at the studio, Yoongi’s already there. He nods to him, and Jimin feels like he’s been catapulted back in time to when they couldn’t stand being around each other. This isn’t the Yoongi who apologized, who called him baby and held him while he fell asleep. 

He sits quietly while the stylist fixes his hair and makeup, misery sinking him down. It had been easier not to think about Yoongi when they didn’t have to see each other. Now that they’re together again, the loss feels that much more acute. It’s hard to ignore what’s happened between them when he glances over at Yoongi and Yoongi glances away, when he looks at his hands and remembers the way they’d felt on him. 

And then they have to take their pictures together, smile and pretend that everything’s fine. Jimin has to stand there with Yoongi’s arm around his waist, the scent of sandalwood unavoidable, and pretend like he isn’t upset and furious and maybe a little heartbroken, too. 

It isn’t like he’d given Yoongi his heart or anything like that. It’s just that he’d started to hope, and losing hope feels a lot like heartbreak.

He’s tense and on edge by the end of the photo session, and that makes conflict inevitable. Yoongi walks out without saying goodbye, and Jimin can’t stand it anymore. He chases after him, calling out for him when they hit the sidewalk. Yoongi turns around, hands in his pockets, and raises his eyebrows. Wonho and Hyunwoo hover nearby. 

“Why are you ignoring me?” Jimin demands. 

“I’ve been busy.”

His vague answer only increases Jimin’s fury. “Don’t give me that,” he nearly spits. “We both know that’s a lie.”

“Do we have to do this right now, in the middle of the fucking sidewalk?”

“Yeah, we do, because you won’t fucking talk to me anywhere else.”

“Fine. Talk, then.”

“You apologized. You knew you were being shitty, you said you’d do better. Why are you going back on everything you said to me?”

Yoongi’s eyes narrow. He blows a lock of hair out of his eyes, hands still shoved determinedly into his pockets. “I changed my mind.”

“Changed your mind?” Jimin gives an incredulous laugh. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’ve decided it’s better if we go back to staying out of each other’s way.”

“So I just get to be jerked around by your decisions?” Jimin demands. “How I feel doesn’t matter?”

“It’ll be better for both of us this way.”

“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me. You don’t get to string me along and then abandon me just because you’re scared.”

Yoongi’s jaw tightens. “I’m not scared of shit. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“That’s what happens when you don’t talk to people. They make assumptions.” Jimin crosses his arms tight over his chest, a defense. “And I don’t have to assume anything to know that your best friend died because of you and now you’re pushing that guilt between us.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets them. Yoongi stiffens, mouth a hard line, and Jimin feels his stomach swirl in a sick way. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he whispers, but it’s too late.

Yoongi steps in, closing the distance between them. His voice is a low hiss. “Look, we don’t know shit about each other. We come from different worlds, and we’re never gonna be able to make this work.”

“You’re not even going to try?”

“This marriage is about business. It’s best if we keep it that way.”

“You’re such a coward.” Jimin’s ashamed to find that his voice wobbles, coming out weaker than he intended. The lump in his throat grows until it aches. “Why did you even bother letting me in if you were just going to run away again?”

“It was a mistake,” he says easily, and Jimin tries so hard to hold the tears back, but he can’t. He blinks and digs his nails into his palms and swallows past the lump but the tears still fall, dripping down his cheeks as his lips tremble. 

“I wish we hadn’t gone to that stupid resort,” Jimin breathes, dashing desperately at his cheeks, but he can’t wipe them away fast enough. “I wish you’d never looked at me at all.”

Yoongi takes a step back, expression blank as ever. “I have somewhere to be.”

Jimin doesn’t bother answering. He turns away, pressing his hands to his eyes as if the pressure will stop the tears. Someone opens the car door for him, and he stumbles inside, barely managing to click his seatbelt in. The car starts, and Jimin bows his head, staring at his lap, hating the way he can’t stop crying. He tries to be quiet about it, doesn’t make a sound, keeps his shoulders still. His hair covers most of his face. He likes his bodyguards, but another symptom of marrying Min Yoongi is that he can’t even cry in private. 

“Jimin-ssi,” Hyunwoo says quietly, and Jimin looks up. He’s leaning around the passenger seat, holding out a small pack of tissues. 

Jimin’s eyes well up all over again. He takes the tissues. “Thank you,” he whispers, and Hyunwoo returns a small smile. 

❦

They say things get worse before they get better, but Jimin’s life feels like a succession of downs and no ups. He wakes up the next morning to a text message from Jihyun. It’s a screenshot of a news article. Park omega having an affair with Im family heir? the headline reads. The photo is of him and Jaebum from their afternoon at the cafe. They’re standing by the balcony railing, and Jaebum’s hands are on Jimin’s waist. Anyone can tell he’s about to kiss him - it’s in the way he leans in, the lidded gaze and protective hold. 

Jimin stares at the screenshot for a long time. It takes him that long to understand what’s happening. It’s been so long since he’d met Jaebum at the cafe, and he can’t imagine why someone would wait this long to drop the picture. The fact that someone had been watching him the whole time with a camera makes him feel sick and wrong inside. He wonders how many other times he’s been watched without his knowledge. 

When the reality of the situation begins to take hold, he sits up blearily in bed, pressing his phone to his ear. He’s still mad at him, furious, had cried himself to sleep, but Jimin’s first thought is still that he has to talk to Yoongi. They might hate each other a little bit right now, but Jimin isn’t a fucking cheater, and he needs to make sure Yoongi knows that. 

Yoongi picks up quickly. “You saw it?” he asks, right to the point as always. 

“Yes, and it’s not the way it looks, I swear. Nothing happened.”

“I know,” Yoongi says, and honestly he doesn’t really sound like he’d care even if something did. “We’re working on damage control. I’ll talk to you later.”

He hangs up, and Jimin stares at the phone in his hand. Somehow he feels even worse than before. 

His mother calls first. She yells at him for long enough that Jimin sets his phone down and stares at the wall until she’s done. Then she hands the phone to his father, who does the same, if slightly less long-winded. Jimin’s exhausted by the end of it. 

“We’ll be busy cleaning up this mess,” his father finishes. “Stay low. Don’t leave your apartment. And don’t even think about going near that alpha again.”

Jimin mumbles his acquiescence and hangs up. He collapses back onto his bed with a groan. He only manages five minutes of rest before his phone’s ringing again. This time, it’s Yoongi’s mother. His stomach clenches with anxiety, and he’s afraid he’s going to be sick. Swallowing harshly, he wills himself to be brave and answers. 

“I’m assuming you saw the articles,” she says curtly. 

“I did,” Jimin murmurs. “I’m very sorry about all this.”

“I didn’t expect this from you.”

If Jimin had thought Yoongi sounded scary, Inhye takes stoniness to another level. Jimin kneads his temple with his fingers. “I know it looks incriminating, but I promise my intentions were clear. I thought we were friends. After I realized his intentions were different, I didn’t see him again. That was the last time we spoke.”

“I believe you,” she says, but Jimin doesn’t get the chance to be relieved. “But that doesn’t change anything. If you want to survive this life, Jimin, you’ll have to learn to be less naive.”

Jimin winces, leaning back against his headboard. He doesn’t quite have the energy to hold himself up anymore. It’s only eight in the morning. 

“It’s better not to have too many friends,” she tells him, “in a life like ours. If you’re going to marry my son, I need you to be far more careful about how you’re seen in public. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“I expect we won’t need a reason to have this conversation again. Don’t leave your apartment today.”

She hangs up without further ado, and Jimin stares at the wall across from his bed and thinks about how nice it would be to just disappear. His third phone call comes mercifully later, when he’s dragged himself out of bed far enough to at least grab a glass of water. It’s Jihyun this time.

“Hyung, you okay?” he asks, and Jimin feels a rush of fondness for his little brother. No one else cares if he’s okay. 

“I’m thinking about digging a hole in the ground and burying myself in it. You?”

Jihyun snorts. “It’s a scandal, not the end of the world. No one’s even going to remember this a week from now.”

“Yoongi’s mom just ripped me a new one. The wounds are going to take more than a week to heal.”

“Please, nothing she said could have been worse than what Mom probably said to you.”

Jimin groans, crawling back into his bed and setting his water on the nightstand. “You’re right, but I’m used to Mom. I’ve learned to tune her out.”

“Well, you’re marrying Yoongi, so I imagine you’ll get lots of practice tuning his mom out, too.”

“You are absolutely no comfort at all. Alphas are so useless.”

Jimin can hear him smile through the phone. “Sorry, sorry. I know this is no small situation.”

“I just don’t understand how this happened,” Jimin mumbles. “I saw Jaebum at that cafe months ago. Why did they wait so long to drop the picture?”

Jihyun sighs, his tone marginally more serious when he speaks again. “I think there’s something going on. Have you seen him since then?”

“Nope. We haven’t spoken, either. He sent me flowers after the kidnapping, but that’s it.”

“I don’t like it. Something’s shady about all this.”

“Do you think he’s involved in some way? With dropping the picture?”

“I don’t want to make any premature assumptions, but it’s possible. I wouldn’t put it past the Im clan to be holding a grudge over our rejection. Maybe they’re trying to sabotage you and Yoongi as retaliation.”

“That’s fucked up,” Jimin says glumly.

“Yeah. But it could be something else, too, I dunno. Just be careful when you’re out in public, okay? There are eyes everywhere.”

“How was I supposed to know? No one’s ever tried to take pictures of me before.”

“I know, but now that you know, just be wary.”

“I will. Do you really think this’ll blow over soon?”

“Absolutely. That’s not what I’m worried about. It’s what’s behind all this that worries me.”

“Yeah?”

“Everyone’s going to forget about the picture before you know it. But if, say, the Im clan really is trying to sabotage you, now that’s a problem.”

“I hate politics.”

“We’ve already got some people looking into things, so don’t worry too much, okay? We’ll figure this out.”

“Thanks, Jihyunie.”

“Just - try not to leave the house for a few days.”

Jimin groans. “So I’ve been told.”

❦

Damage control comes in the form of a Park family statement that Jimin and Jaebum were only friends, that Jimin had been unaware of his feelings and backed away as soon as he became aware of them. It’s close enough to the truth. The Min family statement says they were well aware of the situation already and are therefore unconcerned. The Im family says nothing. 

Jimin dutifully stays home for a few days. He hasn’t stopped nesting since well before the kidnapping, his time at the resort the only days he’d spent without a nest. With this added stress, his nest only grows as he seeks comfort from whatever he can find. Yoongi’s jacket is still a key part of his nest, and that bothers him. But no matter how shitty he feels about Yoongi right now, the comfort that his scent brings does not lessen. 

But it’s a bitter comfort, and part of him rails against it. So one night, when sleep remains elusive, Jimin picks up his phone and messages Yoongi to ask if he wants his jacket back. Maybe a clear indication from Yoongi that he doesn’t want Jimin to have his scent will finally convince Jimin’s omega that it isn’t a comfort after all. 

Like last time, Yoongi’s answer comes promptly despite the late hour. Keep it , he says, and Jimin spends the rest of the night glaring at his jacket. 

On the third day of his parental-imposed house arrest, Jaebum messages him. Sorry I took so long to get in touch - I wasn’t sure if you’d want me to. But I wanted to apologize for the picture and make sure you were doing okay. Jimin debates not answering, but in the end he does. If Jihyun’s right, and the Im family is trying to sabotage him, then it’s better to act as if the picture had done no damage at all. 

Everything’s fine, thanks for checking in! 

You’re not in trouble, are you? Jaebum responds. I know my family’s pretty pissed. 

Nope. I explained everything to everyone, and they’re all fine with it. The media is what it is, though, they’re just worried about fallout from that. 

That’s good to hear. Hopefully things will blow over soon. 

Jimin sends back a smiley face and tosses his phone away. 

On day four, his mother finally calls to tell him he can go back to acting normal. “Your guards have explicit instructions to watch out for any photographers,” she says. “If anyone tries to ask you questions, refuse to engage. Sometimes the media likes to disguise themselves as civilians, so be wary.”

His first outing is a grocery trip with Hoseok. Hyunwoo and Wonho are on extra alert the entire time, but no one approaches them, and they don’t catch any secret photographers. Everything seems quiet enough, so Jimin begins to relax. 

Until they make it back to the apartment and find a slash on the door. 

It’s clearly been made with a knife, a gash in the wood, and Hyunwoo and Wonho don’t delay a second before they begin to act. Hyunwoo herds Hoseok and Jimin away from the door, doing a thorough checking of the hallway while Wonho enters the apartment. Jimin clutches Hoseok’s hand and prays that there’s no one inside, that Wonho will come out okay. 

“Should we get away from here?” Hoseok asks, voice trembling, but Hyunwoo shakes his head. 

“Too many variables outside. It’s safer to just wait.”

When Wonho finally emerges, Jimin lets go of the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Everything’s clear,” he says. “Property damage only.”

“Property damage?” Jimin breathes. “They broke our stuff?”

“Nothing’s stolen. It seems to just be a warning.”

Jimin moves to go inside, but Wonho catches him around the waist. “Jimin-ssi,” he says, a note of warning in his voice. 

“Is it safe to go inside?” Jimin demands. 

“Yes, but - ” He hesitates. “I don’t think you’re going to want to see it.”

“Please let me go,” Jimin says stiffly. He needs to see. He has to see. 

Wonho lets him go. 

The kitchen and living room are unscathed, Hoseok’s room untouched. All the damage is in his bedroom. Someone has taken a knife to everything in a way that feels pointedly like it was designed to hurt him - slashed through the polaroids hanging on his wall, carved lines into his headboard, cut up the pillows on his bed and sliced Yoongi’s jacket into pieces. He opens his closet, and nearly all of his clothes have been destroyed, too. The stuffed dog Hoseok had given him when he turned eleven has been slashed, too, stuffing scattered across the floor. 

Jimin stands in the doorway, his mind going blank. He barely notices Hoseok come up behind him, resting a hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t get it. He’s always tried to live a good life, doesn’t think he’s ever really made any enemies. All he can think about as he stares at the wreckage of his room is that he doesn’t deserve this. 

But that doesn’t matter. Life never discriminates. 

“Who do you think did this?” he hears Hoseok murmur. 

“We’ll have to investigate,” Hyunwoo answers quietly. “Right now, we can’t say anything.”

Footsteps echo down the hall. “Jimin-ssi,” Wonho says, and Jimin finally turns around. “Yoongi-ssi is waiting downstairs for you.”

Jimin rubs his eyes, glancing between everyone. He doesn’t want to leave Hoseok alone up here, but they’re one step ahead of him.

“I’ll accompany you,” Hyunwoo says, “and Wonho will remain with Hoseok-ssi.”

Jimin nods. He puts his shoes back on and takes the elevator down, his limbs heavy and lethargic. It would be nice to take a long, long nap, he thinks, the kind of nap that you never have to wake up from. 

Yoongi’s waiting for him outside his car. “Let’s talk inside,” he says, nudging his head toward the car. 

Jimin slips inside, and Yoongi joins him after a moment. Jimin doesn’t miss the way he can’t stop looking around himself. Hyunwoo stands just outside the car, arms crossed over his chest, surveying the area. 

“You’re moving in with me,” Yoongi says, and Jimin’s knocked right out of his lethargic trance.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s the safest place you can be.”

“I can’t just get up and leave. I have a lease, all my things, and I’m close to the university - ”

“Do those things really matter more than your life?” Yoongi says bluntly. “You would have had to move in with me eventually, anyway. It’s just earlier than expected.”

“What about Hoseok?” Jimin’s voice pitches higher. He clutches the edge of the seat, fingers turning white. “I can’t just - can’t just leave him there! What if they come after him instead? I can’t - ”

He doesn’t realize he’s panicking until Yoongi carefully removes his hands from their death grip on the seat and holds them. Like always, the flashbacks play out as vividly as if he’s really there. The kidnapper, holding up Jimin’s phone. Who’s this?

“Look at me.” Yoongi’s voice is low and steady, and Jimin looks at him. “I’m not going to let anything happen to Hoseok. I’ve already talked to Jungkook. He has a few options he’s going to speak with Hoseok about.”

“What are the options?” Jimin’s voice still sounds tinny to his own ears. He tries to breathe, but he can’t take in more than a few shallow breaths. 

Yoongi hesitates. “He’s going to ask Hoseok to move in with him, too.”

Jimin’s eyes widen, stomach clenching. “He’s not going to agree to that. He wasn’t even ready to go on vacation with him.”

“The other option is the Jeon family safehouse. It’s in Busan.”

“Busan?” Jimin exclaims, the despair intensifying. “He can’t just - just up and move to Busan.”

“Those are the only two options.”

“This feels like coercion. You know that, right?”

To his surprise, Yoongi agrees. “I know. But I swear that isn’t Jungkook’s intention, and he won’t present it to him like that, either. We just don’t have a lot of options here. Yours and Hoseok’s safety comes first.”

Jimin slumps in his seat, and Yoongi lets his hands go. The panic has left him feeling drained, exhausted. “Is the safehouse an option for me?”

“Ours is in Daegu,” he says carefully. “And it’s not really an option, Jimin-ah. We have to move in together eventually.”

Jimin runs his hands over his face. It’s hard to imagine that not so long ago, his life had been completely normal. His concerns had been completely normal, too; exams and money and the annoying alpha in his class. That feels like a lifetime ago. He can barely remember what it feels like anymore. 

“When do I move in?” he finally says. 

“I’ll send someone to help you pack tonight.”

“Not much left to pack,” Jimin murmurs, gazing out at the window at the apartment building he’ll no longer get to call home after today. It’s a shitty building, anyway. Maintenance never comes and the pest control barely does anything. “They ruined everything.”

“I have a spare room. I’ll have it set up for you. Tell me what you need, and I’ll get it ordered.”

“Okay,” Jimin says. He doesn’t think he has the presence of mind to take stock of what he’ll need. “I’ll text you about it.”

Yoongi nods. “Then I’ll see you tonight.”

Jimin leaves the car and returns up to his apartment with Hyunwoo. Hoseok’s on the phone; he sounds upset. Jimin sits on the couch, burying his head in his hands, and hates knowing that Hoseok is only in this mess because he has the misfortune of knowing him. 

Hyunwoo and Wonho usually patrol the perimeter of the building when he’s home, but today they both stand at different spots in the apartment, fully alert. Their presence is an unshakable reminder of the danger they’re in. 

Hoseok emerges after a while, sitting glumly next to Jimin. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin mumbles. 

“Shut up,” Hoseok says unceremoniously. “This isn’t your fault.”

“What did you decide?”

“Is there really even a decision to make?” he sighs. “I’m moving in with him, of course. He says they’re working hard to find the source of the threat, that maybe I won’t have to stay too long.”

“I hope so,” Jimin mumbles. “How do you feel about it?”

Hoseok shoots him a wry smile. “Guess I can’t run away now, huh?”

Jimin scoffs, shaking his head. “Guess not. Maybe this will be good for you.”

“What about you? Are you okay?”

“No,” Jimin answers honestly. “But does it matter?”

Hoseok threads their fingers together. “Yes, it does matter.”

Jimin sighs, resting his head on Hoseok’s shoulder. “It’ll be okay. We’ll visit each other all the time. And you’ll have 24/7 access to Jungkook’s big dick, at least.”

Hoseok snorts a laugh. “Ever the optimist.”

“You know it.” Jimin gets up, tugging Hoseok with him. “We need to start packing.”

Hoseok groans. 

Chapter 11

Notes:

i kno i have surprise updated twice in a row but its not gonna be a trend sorry sdkjfjh pls enjoy

When Jimin walks into Yoongi’s penthouse, the first thing he sees is the painting. 

It hangs in the entryway, right where your eye catches when you enter, and it’s beautiful. A study in nature done with beautiful bursts of color, both peaceful and off-putting at the same time. Jimin thinks the artist must have a lot of feelings, which is a silly thing to think about when looking at a work of art. Art is born from feeling; he knows that. But this - there’s something about this that just bursts . 

He’s so enraptured by it that the man Yoongi had sent to help him with his luggage brings all the bags and boxes inside, one-by-one, while Jimin stands there and stares. He slips his shoes off so he can draw closer to the painting and hunt for the artist’s signature. It takes a minute to decipher the scrawl in the corner, but once he does, his breath catches in his throat. Namjoon . 

“Come on, I’ll show you your room,” Yoongi says, and Jimin jerks. 

He pulls himself away from the painting to follow Yoongi inside, peering around curiously. Everything is spotlessly clean. The living room and kitchen share one massive space, bordered on three walls by floor-to-ceiling windows. The floors are wooden, the kitchen counters granite, the appliances shiny steel. He can see a terrace out beyond the windows. A small staircase leads up to the loft-style second floor with its two closed doors, and a hallway leading off next to the kitchen holds a few more closed doors. It’s a nice place to live, but Jimin finds himself wondering if Yoongi spends any time here at all. It doesn’t look very lived-in, nor does it carry as much of Yoongi’s scent as Jimin would have expected. 

Yoongi climbs the staircase, socked feet brushing lightly against the wood, and opens the first door to reveal a decently-sized guest room. Woosung begins bringing boxes up to place in the room, and Jimin moves to help. 

“There’s a bathroom,” Yoongi says, pointing at a door by the bed when Jimin drags his suitcase inside. “Feel free to change the decoration or order anything if you want.”

He can’t imagine anything needs to be changed, though he might shift the furniture around if he starts nesting. The room is pretty enough, large cherry wood bed and matching desk, lacy curtains over the large windows and another painting adorning the wall. It isn’t nearly as captivating as Namjoon’s painting downstairs. A comfortable chair sits by the window, and there’s a chest of drawers across the bed. 

“Help yourself to anything in the fridge. I get meal delivery. I’ll leave the menu and phone number on the counter in case you want to add anything.”

Jimin nods. Yoongi hovers in the doorway as Woosung places the last box down, looking like he has something to say. In the end, he says nothing, slipping out of the room. Jimin listens to his soft footsteps pad down the steps. It feels childish, but he doesn’t want to unpack. Unpacking will make the change feel more permanent. It’s not as if there’s a chance this won’t be permanent; this is his home now. He’ll have to make peace with that. 

He opens one of the boxes and pulls out the remnants of the teddy bear, which he’d packed carefully into a plastic bag, down to every last piece of stuffing. He’s going to fix it. He’s shit at sewing, but he can hold a damn needle, so he’s going to fix it. He sets the bag on his nightstand as a reminder. 

Then he video calls Hoseok so they can show each other their new rooms. It’s a glum call, both of them miserable, but seeing Hoseok’s face always makes him feel a little better. He doesn’t want to unpack and he isn’t sleepy, so he decides to poke around the place a bit before forcing himself into bed. He assumes the room next door is Yoongi’s, so he avoids that. The living room has a massage chair, which Jimin fiddles with in fascination. He wanders toward the TV cabinet and opens it to find a collection of gaming consoles. 

There’s a framed photo sitting on the shelf embedded into the wall by the TV. Jimin moves to look at it, his stomach swirling as he realizes what he’s looking at - or rather, who. It’s a selfie, and Jimin doesn’t have to ask to know that the guy holding the camera is Namjoon. He’s handsome in a breathtaking sort of way, one eye winking shut as he smiles at the camera. His hair’s blond and pushed back from his forehead, and he has a pair of pretty dimples. Yoongi’s standing behind him, flashing a peace sign and a gummy smile. They look younger, like it’s a picture from their university days. 

Jimin feels the sadness descend upon him like a weight. He didn’t know Namjoon, but Namjoon was a person with dreams and hopes just like Jimin, a person who had felt deeply enough to create a painting as pretty as the one in the entryway, and he’d been killed for nothing. It hurts, the knowledge that the smiling boy he’s looking at is dead. 

He smells Yoongi before he hears him and spins around, guilty, like he’s doing something he shouldn’t. Yoongi doesn’t say anything, just watches him quietly.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin blurts, and Yoongi’s gaze flickers. The apology has been sitting on his tongue for days. A petty part of him sneers about how an apology isn’t necessary, how Yoongi deserved what he said in retaliation for how he’s been treating Jimin. But the rest of him knows that no matter how Yoongi acts, he can’t let himself sink to that level. “For what I said about him. It was uncalled for.”

Yoongi nods slowly. “Thanks.” He swallows, looking uncomfortable. “Did you, uh, need something?”

“I was just looking around.”

Yoongi nods again. He moves toward the kitchen, still looking awkward, and pours himself a glass of water from the fridge. Jimin stands there for another moment before he decides he can poke around another day. 

“Goodnight,” he mumbles, and slips off toward the stairs. Before he closes his door, he hears Yoongi mumble a reply. 

❦

It feels like too much work, fixing the old teddy bear.

Jimin sits in his new room with a needle and thread for all of an hour, staring at the torn pieces of the toy. Objectively, it can’t be that bad. It can’t take that long. But it feels like a monumental task, so large and overwhelming that he can’t bring himself to make the first move. In the end, he puts everything away and goes back to bed. 

For the first week after Jimin moves in, he tries to be normal, to be positive. He goes to the gym and Jiu Jitsu and the shooting range, adds his meals to Yoongi’s delivery service, stops by the studio at school to work on some ongoing projects. But the feigned normalcy isn’t sustainable. 

The truth is, Jimin feels wrong . He adjusts and readjusts his nest, but without the comfort of the pillows and sweaters and teddy bear he’d lost, it doesn’t feel like his nest. Everything’s new and doesn’t smell enough like him yet, smells like wood and varnish and cleaning solution. It doesn’t smell like home, and Jimin so desperately needs it to smell like home.

At some point, he stops trying. It isn’t an overnight change. One day, he skips the gym because he’s too tired and takes a nap instead. The next day, he sleeps through dinner. The day after that, he remembers he has Jiu Jitsu minutes before he should be leaving the house and decides he might as well just not attend. He still has a few more weeks until classes begin, and Jimin finds that he can’t convince himself of any real reason to get out of bed. 

Yoongi isn’t home much, something he’d expected. He works late, and even when he’s home, he locks himself in his office and works some more. Jimin thinks it’s better this way. He doesn’t really want to run into Yoongi. 

But eventually he realizes that his omega won’t give him peace until his nesting extends beyond his bed. The placement of the furniture and decorations in his room are all wrong, and he can’t move everything on his own. The only people he can ask for help are Wonho and Hyunwoo, and he can’t exactly pull them away from their guard duty to move his bed around. That leaves Yoongi.

He doesn’t really want to ask, but opportunity comes unexpectedly when Yoongi knocks on his door one evening.

“Come in,” he calls, curled up in his nest scrolling aimlessly through Twitter like he has been for the last five hours. 

Yoongi enters, hovering just inside the doorway. He’s dressed like he just got back from work, tie loosened and sleeves pushed up to his elbows. “Hey,” he says. 

“Hi,” Jimin mumbles. He sets his phone down to look at him. Yoongi hasn’t knocked on his door once since he moved in, so he figures he must have something important to say. The last time they’d talked had been a few days ago, when Yoongi had mentioned offhand that they were still investigating the threat on his apartment and didn’t have any answers yet. 

“You, uh, haven’t been eating?”

Jimin blinks slowly at him. Then he shrugs.

“You haven’t added anything to the meal delivery in awhile.”

“I just grab stuff from the fridge when I’m hungry.”

“There isn’t much in the fridge,” he points out, and it’s true. Jimin wracks his brain and only remembers eating a banana today. When Jimin doesn’t say anything, Yoongi continues. “Well, I picked up some stuff if you want to come eat dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.” Jimin picks his phone back up, but Yoongi doesn’t move.

“Come eat, Jimin,” he says, his tone firm. 

Jimin can tell he won’t get out of this with an argument, and he doesn’t have the energy to argue. He sighs and rolls out of bed, following Yoongi down to the kitchen. A few grocery bags sit on the counter, which Yoongi begins to empty. Jimin had assumed he’d brought takeout, but it doesn’t look like that’s the case.

“You’re cooking?” Jimin asks, and Yoongi nods. “Why?”

Yoongi sets a large pot of water on the stove and glances over his shoulder, a wry twist to his mouth. “What, I’m not allowed to cook?”

“You get meal delivery. What’s the point?”

“I enjoy cooking,” he says. “It helps me destress.”

Jimin watches him remove thawed octopus from the fridge and begin to clean it in the sink. “Stir-fried octopus?”

Yoongi nods. “Is that fine?”

“Yeah. Do you need help?”

“You can chop the onions, if you want,” he suggests. “But you don’t have to.”

Jimin gets up to pull the onions from the grocery bag and set them on the counter. Yoongi points him toward the cutting board and knives, so he gets to work chopping them up.

“I’ve been taking care of most of the wedding preparation,” Yoongi tells him, tossing the octopus in the boiling water to blanch. “But they need us both for a fitting on Friday.”

Jimin hums, realizing that in his haze he hadn’t even thought about all the wedding-related meetings he was missing. No one had asked him to go to any. “For our wedding outfits?”

“Yeah.”

Yoongi drains the octopus and sets up a second cutting board next to Jimin so he can start cutting it into pieces. Jimin dashes at his eyes, which have grown teary from the onions. They work in silence, preparing the seasoning and vegetables. When everything’s ready, Yoongi heats up a pan and tosses the vegetables in. 

“I’ve got it from here,” he says, so Jimin washes his hands and takes a seat at one of the counter’s barstools. 

Yoongi works efficiently, his expression calm and focused as he prepares the food. Jimin can’t deny there’s something attractive about the competency and the fact that he really does seem to enjoy what he’s doing. He even hums a little under his breath. 

“What’s your crest?” Jimin asks again, peering at the tattoos on Yoongi’s arms. He can see the tail end of one snaking toward the nape of his neck, too. 

“Still haven’t figured it out?”

“I never tried.”

Yoongi doesn’t withhold the information this time. “Dragon,” he says easily, and Jimin’s mouth shapes an oh . So that’s what he’ll be getting tattooed after the wedding. 

“Dragon?” he scoffs. “Really?”

“Yours is a tiger,” Yoongi scoffs back, and Jimin can’t argue with that. 

Yoongi plates the stir-fry and clears off the counter so they can eat, removing some side dishes from the fridge. He takes a seat next to Jimin and waits for him to take the first bite. Jimin’s a little amazed at how good it tastes. “Wow,” he says, and Yoongi looks smug.

“Told you I could cook.”

It isn’t until Jimin feels the energy the food brings him that he realizes how weak he’d grown. He eats well, and Yoongi keeps filling his plate, silently insisting that he eat his fill. When they’re done, they wash the dishes together, shoulder-to-shoulder at the large sink. It feels domestic in a way that makes Jimin’s heart ache; it only succeeds in reminding him of all the things he can’t have. Just because Yoongi’s around tonight doesn’t mean he’ll be around tomorrow night or the night after that. 

“Thanks for the food,” Jimin tells him. 

“Don’t skip meals,” Yoongi mutters. “Not good for you.”

“Can you help me with something?” Jimin ventures. When Yoongi nods, he asks, “Can you help me move some of my furniture around? I can’t do it on my own.”

Yoongi agrees easily, and they return to Jimin’s room. He sighs at the sight of it, the feeling of wrong that won’t leave him, and wonders if he’ll ever feel secure enough to stop nesting. 

“Bed first,” Jimin says. “I want it vertical instead.”

They shift the mattress first, standing it against the wall and leaving his pillows and blanket in a pile below it. Then they lift the bed carefully and turn it around. Jimin backs away to look, hands on his hips, and frowns. 

“A little further to the left.”

They shift it left a few inches, and Jimin nods in satisfaction. He goes for the desk next, which is surprisingly heavier to move, but between the two of them, they somehow manage. It takes at least three tries to get it right, and by the end of it, they’re red and panting. 

‘I’m gonna hire you a live-in mover,” Yoongi snarks, but Jimin ignores him and moves to the chest of drawers with a pointed sniff. 

Though it still doesn’t hold the comfort of his old bedroom, by the end of their rearranging, Jimin can look at the room without the immediate sense of wrong. They lift his mattress back onto the bed, and he sets to work redoing his nest. 

“You don’t have my jacket anymore,” Yoongi notes, watching him fluff out one of his pillows. 

“They cut it up,” Jimin says. 

“Do you - ” Yoongi hesitates, as if debating whether or not to ask. He makes a decision. “Do you want something else of mine?”

Jimin wishes he could say no. He hates his stupid biology for recognizing Yoongi’s alpha scent as comfort even if he’s nothing close to a comfort for him. Begrudgingly, he nods. Yoongi slips out of his room and returns holding an oversized gray sweatshirt. He tosses it to Jimin, and his scent floats off in waves. Jimin has to restrain himself from breathing it in right there, having been deprived of it for so long. He folds the sweatshirt carefully and places it between two of his pillows instead. 

“We’re done?” Yoongi asks, and Jimin nods. “Then goodnight, Jimin.”

“Night.”

Yoongi leaves, closing the door behind him, and Jimin burrows into his nest and presses his nose against Yoongi’s sweatshirt. 

❦

They go to the stylist’s office together for the clothes fitting. The stylist has a number of outfits prepared, along with ideas for customization and matching. Yoongi doesn’t seem to care much what they put him in, as expected, but he does cooperate and pay attention. Jimin, however, finds himself enamored with all the stylish clothes. He’s only going to get married once, after all. He may as well look good.

He’s picky with the outfits he tries on, but eventually he’s drawn to a look that makes him feel kind of like a prince. It’s black silk button-down with a slender pair of matching slacks, but the blazer is what Jimin really loves - it’s covered in intricate silver embroidery, gold buttons up the sleeves. When he comes out wearing it, even Yoongi looks impressed, gaze lingering on him in a way that makes Jimin flush. 

“I like that one,” Yoongi says.

The stylist beams. “Maybe we could add a line of lace above the collar,” she muses. “It suits you.”

“And a cummerbund to accentuate your waist,” her assistant adds, and she nods in agreement. 

They find an outfit for Yoongi that matches after some customization, and he agrees to it without protest. He doesn’t bother trying it on; they have his measurements from past visits, so they’ll adjust and call them both in for another fitting later. Jimin leaves the office feeling satisfied.

But when they step out to the lobby, they find Jaebum stepping in. 

Jimin can feel the way Yoongi tenses next to him. He tenses, too, doesn’t know what to expect, and Jaebum greets them with a sharp grin. “Fancy seeing you here,” he says. 

“Cut the bullshit,” Yoongi snaps. Jimin has rarely ever seen him anything but cool, even when he’s angry. 

Jaebum ignores him, turning to Jimin instead. “Looking pretty as ever, Jimin-ah.”

Yoongi growls, wrapping an arm tightly around Jimin’s waist. Jimin swallows, heart jumping into his throat. He doesn’t bother answering. 

“What’s wrong, Yoongi-ssi?” Jaebum asks, looking back at Yoongi and raising an eyebrow. He takes a step toward them, and Yoongi’s grip tightens. “Worried I’m going to steal something else of yours away?”

Jimin bristles, but it’s nothing compared to the fury radiating off Yoongi. 

“I didn’t have to do anything at all, actually,” Jaebum shrugs. “You sent your omega running right into my arms all on your own.”

“Don’t talk about me like that,” Jimin hisses. 

Jaebum’s gaze flickers over to him, and it softens. “The offer still stands, Jimin-ah,” he says. “You know I’ll treat you better.”

Yoongi lets Jimin go. He moves in a flash, so quickly that Jimin barely has time to react, reaching to grab his sleeve. It slips out of his grasp, and Yoongi’s fisted his hand in Jaebum’s collar, their noses brushing. 

“Whatever game you’re playing,” Yoongi growls, “I’ll figure it out.”

“I’m not playing any games, Yoongi-ssi,” Jaebum sneers. There’s something furious and pleased in the way he looks down his nose at Yoongi, as if this is exactly what he wanted. “That’s what I told you last time, too.”

Whatever the context of that jab is, it must be something nasty, because Yoongi loses it. He raises his fist and Jimin shouts at him to stop, but then Hyunwoo’s there, grabbing Yoongi’s raised arm before it connects. He must have seen them through the glass. 

“Sir,” Hyunwoo says firmly. “I’m going to have to ask you to de-escalate in the interest of Jimin-ssi’s safety.”

For a second that feels like an eternity to Jimin, no one moves. Only the sound of Yoongi’s breath, quick with anger, penetrates the silence. Jaebum watches him with triumph in his eyes. 

Yoongi lets Jaebum go. 

“I’ll fucking kill you,” Yoongi spits, shoving past Jaebum and out the door. 

Hyunwoo ushers Jimin ahead of him before following. Jimin glances over his shoulder one last time and finds Jaebum watching them go, a cold smile on his face. He catches up to Yoongi as he strides down the sidewalk toward the car, fury still clear in the set of his shoulders and force of his walk. 

“Sorry,” Yoongi mutters. “That was - he was talking about Namjoon.”

Jimin winces, a bit of anger overtaking the confusion and shock that’s mostly filling him. “Asshole.” He swallows as they stop outside the car. “Do you think it’s him?” he ventures, belly twisting tight. “The one who’s behind the threat?”

Yoongi sighs, some of the tension leaving his body. “Yeah,” he answers. “I think it’s him, Jimin.”

Chapter 12

As the days pass, Yoongi and Jimin fall into something of a routine. They eat dinner together more nights than they don’t, a small spot of light in the day as Jimin remains in the hole he seems to have sunk into. He doesn’t do much else during the day, sometimes drags himself to the studio; mostly, he watches TV. The penthouse picks up his lavender scent, and it starts to feel a little less foreign to him. He realizes that Yoongi starts coming home earlier so they can have dinner together, and it makes him feel strange that he’s pouring in so much effort just to make sure Jimin eats. 

It’s whiplash all over again. Yoongi tells Jimin they’re just business, and then he comes home early so he can drag Jimin’s depressed ass out of bed and cook him dinner. Maybe it’s just instinct. In the end, Jimin’s technically his omega now. 

Sometimes their dinners are quiet, only words of necessity exchanged, but sometimes they talk. About work or school or a TV show; once, they spend an extra hour over wine talking about art. It’s nice, but this time Jimin doesn’t let himself hope. He no longer harbors any illusions that Yoongi’s going to change his mind about where they stand. He could be pushing him away again next week for all Jimin knows. 

One night, over a dinner of some Italian pasta Yoongi had whipped up, he tells Jimin his grandmother called.

“She seemed worried,” Yoongi says carefully. “Thinks you’re mad at her.”

Jimin hasn’t been giving her the cold shoulder, exactly, but he also hasn’t been speaking to her as much as he normally does. “I am.”

“Can I ask why?”

Jimin picks at his food moodily. “Found out she made a deal with my parents when I was born. She’d get to raise me, but they’d get to marry me off.”

“Ouch.”

Jimin raises his fork in agreement. 

“I imagine she was trying to protect you.”

“But look at how unprepared I am now. I know nothing about this life.”

Yoongi hums, gazing down into his glass of water. He’s quiet for a moment, thinking, before he speaks again. “When I was eleven, my father handed me a gun and told me to kill a man who’d betrayed him.”

Jimin’s breath catches in his throat. “Did you do it?”

“Of course I did. That’s what you do when you’re raised in families like ours.”

He says no more, but Jimin has heard his point loud and clear. Swallowing harshly, he looks off toward the window. “I’ll call her.”

“You don’t have to worry about being unprepared. I’ll keep you as far from this life as I can manage.” He shrugs. “I know our parents keep scaring you about being involved, but it doesn’t have to be like that. If you stick to yourself for the rest of your life, that’s fine.”

Jimin looks at him, really looks, and his heart feels strange and fluttery and achy, too. “Okay,” he says, nearly a whisper, and Yoongi spoons some more food onto his plate. 

Jimin calls his grandmother that night. 

“I’m sorry for avoiding you,” he blurts as soon as she picks up. 

She sighs. “He talked to you, then?”

“You know I love you, right? I was just upset. This is - this is all really hard for me.”

His voice cracks. He almost confesses right there exactly how hard it is, how lately he can barely pull himself out of bed, how the fear has penetrated so deep into his bones that he doesn’t think it’ll ever fade. But in the end, he says nothing. 

“I know, angel,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry for keeping the truth from you. I should have told you.”

“I guess it wouldn’t have changed anything even if you did.” Either way, Jimin remains unwanted. His parents wouldn’t have agreed to give him up if he’d been an alpha. 

“I know I couldn’t protect you from everything, but I just wanted you to have a normal childhood. A happy one.”

“I did,” Jimin whispers. “I always did.”

“I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life. You know that, even if you don’t know the details. But when I look at you, how kind and loving and bright you are, I think that maybe I did one thing right in my life.”

Jimin dashes tears from his eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. Tell Yoongi thank you for passing along my message.”

“I will.”

“Is he good to you, Jimin-ah?”

Jimin sniffs, curling further into his nest. Yoongi’s sweatshirt sits in his line of sight, taunting him, and his words from earlier bump around his mind incessantly. “Sometimes.”

“Why sometimes?” her voice sharpens. 

“He - he says we’d never work out. That we have a business relationship only. But then - ”

“Then?”

“Sometimes he’s very sweet,” Jimin admits quietly. “He’s scared of letting anyone in, so he keeps pushing me away.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“No, I don’t know if you should do that.”

“I’ll be discreet,” she promises. “I can’t imagine he gets any decent advice from those parents of his. He could use someone in his life who knows a damn thing or two.”

Jimin laughs weakly. “You’re just going to scare him off.”

“If I do, then he’s a coward,” she scoffs. Her voice softens. “Don’t worry about a thing. Just because you’re getting married doesn’t mean I can’t look out for you anymore.”

“Thank you, Grandma.”

“Go get some rest, baby. Sleep well.”

❦

Jimin wakes up well past midnight for a drink of water and finds Yoongi sleeping on the couch. 

He’s bathed in a cool glow from the nighttime light that filters in through the large, open windows, catching on the beads of sweat collecting at his temples. His hands are clutching the jacket he’d tossed over himself, and he’s trembling. Jimin draws nearer, bare feet soft against the wood floor, brows furrowed in confusion. 

Yoongi mutters something unintelligible, thrashing to the side, jacket slipping to the ground. His whole body jerks, a shudder running through him, and he takes a ragged inhale. Jimin stops beside the couch, unsure. 

“Hyung?” he says softly. Yoongi mumbles something again. Jimin crouches down, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Hyung, wake up.”

Yoongi’s eyes fly open. He gasps, shooting upright, and Jimin falls back on his ass in surprise. Panting, Yoongi’s gaze flickers around, gathering his bearings before he settles on Jimin. 

“You were having a nightmare,” Jimin says.

Yoongi runs a hand over his face, breath slowing down. “Shit,” he huffs. “I’m - I should go to bed.”

He stands, stumbling toward the stairs. Jimin watches him go and doesn’t miss the way his shoulders shake. 

❦

School begins again, and Jimin grows overwhelmed with what the start of the year entails. It’s stressful, but Jimin finds it a respite from the depression; at least he’s too busy to think as much now. Campus feels strangely empty without Hoseok to meet for coffee between classes or to camp out in the library and study with. One afternoon, he even texts him by accident, asking him if he wants to meet at the dining hall for dinner. Hoseok’s amused reply comes quickly enough. 

would love to have dinner, jiminie, not a student anymore so maybe not the dining hall? :)

Jimin groans at his own forgetfulness but figures it’s a good enough excuse to see Hoseok again. They haven’t hung out as frequently, given the events of the summer and Hoseok’s new job as an accountant that he landed not far from Jungkook’s home. They end up meeting at one of their favorite restaurants, and Jimin vibrates with excitement all the way there. 

Jimin’s ready to shout about how much he missed Hoseok and fling his arms around him when he gets there, but Hoseok beats him to it.

“I missed you, too!” Jimin shouts instead, and they take their seats and order before they can get too caught up. 

“How are you feeling?” Hoseok asks while they wait for their food. Jimin has spoken to Hoseok a few times about how difficult things have been for him. 

“Better now that school’s started.”

“Is the asshole being nice? Do I need to pay a visit?”

“And do what, glare at him then run away?”

Hoseok kicks him under the table. “Wow, suddenly I realize I didn’t miss you at all.”

“Did, too.” Jimin sticks his tongue out. “But real talk, things are okay? I don’t know. He’s being nice, but he’s clearly holding back, and I just… don’t really know how long it will last.”

“My offer stands.”

“Yeah, yeah. What about Jungkook, is everything okay? I know last time you said things were kind of awkward.”

“It’s getting better,” Hoseok allows. “He’s, um - it’s my fault it’s awkward, I think. He’s doing his best.”

“Of course it’s your fault.”

“Thanks, best friend.”

They pause when the waitress arrives with their food, thanking her and digging in. 

“He brought me lunch at work the other day,” Hoseok mumbles, avoiding Jimin’s gaze while he steals one of his french fries. 

“No way,” Jimin squeaks. “That’s really cute, you know that?”

“I know, I know. Ugh, that’s why this is so hard. He’s literally perfect.”

“Wow, how terrible.”

“I really didn’t miss you.”

“That’s it, no more french fries for you.” Jimin guards his plate with a glare. 

“Fine,” Hoseok huffs, returning to his own food. 

“You like him, don’t you? And he’s nice to live with?”

“I do,” Hoseok says shyly. “I really like him. I’m just - coming to terms with it.”

“It takes time,” Jimin allows, reaching across the table to squeeze Hoseok’s hand. “It’s okay to let yourself have good things, you know. You deserve it.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok murmurs, looking down at his food. “I guess so.”

“Speaking of which, how’s the new job? We haven’t gotten the chance to talk about it much.”

“It’s actually going really well. There’s all this shit I don’t know, and they didn’t train me as long as they probably should have, but I like my coworkers. The building’s really nice. There’s a cafe downstairs.”

“Oh, that’s so cool.”

“Either way, I’m getting paid, so that’s what matters.”

Jimin snorts. “Hear, hear.”

The waitress returns to check on them, and Jimin orders another drink. 

“Have they, uh - ” Hoseok lowers his voice. “Have they figured out who broke in?”

Jimin shakes his head. “No confirmation yet. It’s been a while. I’m starting to think they won’t be able to figure it out at all.”

“Come on, Jiminie, be optimistic.”

“I feel like all the optimism’s been torn right out of me,” Jimin sighs. “But you’re right, I dunno. They’re working on it.”

“At least we’re safe,” Hoseok says, and Jimin nods. 

“That’s all that matters.” 

❦

Jimin wakes up to the sound of a crash and a bang. It’s follow shortly by a hissed curse. 

He leaps out of bed in an instant, snatching up the baseball bat he keeps by his bedside. Inching toward the door, he peeks outside and finds only darkness. He wills himself to be brave, reminds himself that he knows Jiu Jitsu now even if he doesn’t know that much, and he has a damn bat at least. Tiptoeing down the stairs, he flips the lights on. 

Yoongi’s staring back at him. 

A decoration piece from the entryway lies on the ground next to him. He looks like a fucking disaster. The bat slips from Jimin’s hands, hitting the ground with a smack, and his jaw falls open. 

“Oh my god.” His voice sounds higher than it should, cracking at the end. “What the hell happened to you?”

Yoongi’s covered in blood. There are red marks all over his face that Jimin can tell will turn into dreadful bruises; his jaw already looks like it’s swelling up. His lips are puffy and cut, bloody gash on his head. The front of his shirt is coated in dark blood. 

“Sorry,” he rasps. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Jimin lets out a strangled noise. He nears him, reaching out, hands hovering over him but afraid to touch lest he hurt him even more. “Do we - do we need to go to the hospital?”

Yoongi shakes his head, wincing as he does. “Looks worse than it is. Most of the blood’s not mine.”

That doesn’t really make Jimin feel any better. He swallows, taking Yoongi’s arm in his and supporting some of his weight. “Okay. Okay,” he steels himself. “Do you have a first aid kit?”

“Under the kitchen sink.”

They make their laborious way to the kitchen, Yoongi leaning most of his weight on Jimin as they start to move, favoring one of his legs. Jimin eases him carefully to the floor where he can lean against the cabinets, then digs around until he finds the first aid kit. 

“I can take care of myself,” Yoongi says. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Be quiet.” Jimin pulls out disinfectant wipes and goes for his face first, the gash on his head looking painful enough that it makes his belly turn. “Are you cut anywhere else?”

“Just bruises. Think I twisted an ankle.”

Jimin dabs carefully at the wounds on his face, wiping away the blood and cleaning them thoroughly. Yoongi shows no signs of discomfort, though Jimin’s sure it must sting. “What happened to you?”

“Found the guy who broke into your place. He, uh, had backup.”

“Oh my god.” Jimin pauses in his work to look at him. “Did he get away?”

“Yeah.” Yoongi looks like it pains him to admit it. “Yeah, we fucked up. Jihyun was with me.”

“Is he okay?” Jimin exclaims, panicking all over again.

“He’s fine, barely a scratch,” Yoongi rushes to assure him. “I, uh, chased the guy down, so I got the worst of it.”

“Idiot,” Jimin says, scathing. He tugs a tube of ointment from the kit with more force than necessary. “Why the hell did you do that, huh?”

Yoongi just sighs. Jimin works in silence, dabbing ointment on his cuts and taping over them. He’s seething a little, angry at Yoongi and scared for him and frustrated that even after all this, they still have no answers. Yoongi watches him work, gaze hot on his skin, breath tickling his fingers. Jimin squirms at their proximity. 

“Stop staring,” he mutters.

“Can’t help it.”

Yoongi’s voice is low and honest. Jimin’s gaze flickers to meet his, and he flushes at the intensity of it, glancing away quickly to busy himself with checking the kit for bruise cream. “Take this off.” He pokes at Yoongi’s bloody shirt. 

Yoongi tugs it off slowly, carefully not to scrape the material against his face, and Jimin’s breath catches. He’s never been in such close proximity to his bare torso before. He’s built leanly, covered in tattoos, nipples small and dark. Jimin swallows harshly and pulls away to wet a washcloth he finds in a drawer by the sink. Settling back by Yoongi’s side, he starts to carefully wipe the blood off him. 

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi murmurs, “for being so terrible to you.”

Jimin smiles ruefully. He sets the washcloth aside, wiping his hands on his pants, and squeezes the bruise cream into his palm. “There’s no point in apologizing if you’re just going to do the same thing again.”

“I know,” Yoongi says, peering down at him through his lashes. “I didn’t think I was going to do it again, after the first time.”

“And yet you did.”

Jimin massages the cream onto Yoongi’s chest and abdomen, slowly so as not to hurt him. Yoongi flinches at the first touch, goosebumps rising on his skin. Jimin can tell he’ll wake up tomorrow with a nasty smattering of bruises all over him. His skin is smooth and warm under his hands, has Jimin’s mind going to inappropriate places. It doesn’t help that he can smell the way Yoongi’s scent spikes. 

“Why are you resisting so hard?” Jimin says softly. He brushes his hand up to rest on Yoongi’s chest, right over his heart. He can feel it stutter beneath his fingertips. “I know you want this, too.”

“I can’t,” Yoongi whispers. “I just - I can’t do it.”

“I never asked you to open your heart to me. I just wanted us to be friends.”

Yoongi lifts his hand to run his fingers lightly down Jimin’s cheek. “And then look what we went and did. I can’t just be friends with you, Park Jimin.”

Jimin’s heart stutters, too. He returns to ministrations. “Well, I don’t care. You have to make up your mind. Either you’re mean to me for the rest of my life, or we’re friends. No more back and forth.”

“It’s hard,” he says, and Jimin nods. 

“I know. But life’s hard. And I don’t want to be miserable for the rest of mine just because of you.”

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi says again, and Jimin sighs. He sits back on his heels, packing the first aid kit back up. 

“Then stop pushing me away. Just - let’s just be civil, that’s all I’m asking for.” He fetches an ice pack from the freezer and brings it back, setting it on the ankle Yoongi points at. “Things have been - they’ve been nice lately. I don’t want to be afraid that you’ll wake up one day and tell me to leave you alone again.”

Yoongi squeezes his eyes shut briefly. When he opens them again, the exhaustion is far more prominent than before. “I won’t,” he promises. “I won’t do that again.”

“I’m probably an idiot,” Jimin murmurs, shaking his head ruefully, “for trusting you again so easily.” 

“Maybe.” Yoongi’s mouth twists wryly. “I’ll try to make sure you aren’t proven to be one.”

“I’m throwing this away.” Jimin lifts the bloody shirt gingerly, wrinkling his nose. “This is ridiculous. I thought you were dying when you walked in wearing this.”

“The other guys put up a fight.”

Jimin scoffs, flinging the shirt in the trash. “I’m the one who should be worried about losing you,” he mutters. “One day I’m going to get a call that your head was bashed in, and then I’ll be a widower for the rest of my life.”

Yoongi snorts. “You’re never going to remarry?”

“You think they’ll let me remarry? I’ll have to mourn you until I’m dead, too.”

“Run away,” he says very seriously. “I’ll leave you a ticket to Japan in my will.”

“Just don’t get yourself killed.”

“No promises.”

Jimin washes his hands and sits back down next to Yoongi, wrapping his arms around his knees. He frowns down at his feet. “Can I - can I sleep with you tonight?”

Yoongi’s quiet. Then, “Think that’s a little more than just being civil.”

Jimin looks up. Yoongi’s staring back, head resting against the cabinets, eyes lidded. “I’m - you scared me and I’m scared,” Jimin admits, looking away. He’s always scared these days, but after tonight - first the shock of thinking someone was in the house, then Yoongi standing there looking half-dead. Jimin’s stomach feels sick and twisted. He doesn’t like admitting it, but he knows if he sleeps by himself, he’ll spend the night quivering in his bed and waiting desperately for morning. 

“You can sleep with me,” Yoongi agrees, his eyes drifting shut. 

They sit quietly for a time, waiting out the ice. When it begins to melt, Yoongi sets it aside. Jimin tries to help him stand, but he waves him off and does it himself, though he can’t hide the way he flinches. They separate briefly to change out of their bloody clothes, and Jimin meets Yoongi back in his room

He hasn’t been in Yoongi’s room yet. It’s sparse but nicely decorated, though it doesn’t look much different than the guest room, just darker - darker wood and black bed sheets and dark curtains. There isn’t much personality. Jimin wonders if his office holds a bit more of himself in it; he hasn’t been in there yet, either. 

Yoongi lies down gingerly on his back, and Jimin gets in next to him, scooting as close as he can without touching. He doesn’t want to hurt him. 

“If you come home like this again, I’ll divorce you.”

“So many divorce threats, and we aren’t even married yet.” Yoongi shoots him a look. “You can cuddle, you know. I’m not going to break.”

“Oh, so you want to cuddle?” Jimin shifts closer, draping an arm over his waist. He presses his cheek against his shoulder. 

“No, I can just tell you want to.”

“Liar.”

“Goodnight, Jimin-ah.”

“Night, hyung.”

❦

Jimin wakes to the quiet sound of Yoongi shuffling around the room. He lies there and listens, eyes closed, breathing in the heady scent of sandalwood that clings to Yoongi’s sheets. It’s so strong it’s making him restless, and he finds himself burying deeper into his bed. Eventually, he unearths himself and finds Yoongi standing in front of the dressing table mirror with his shirt off. He’s rubbing bruise cream onto his body. 

Just as Jimin expected, the bruises look nasty today, a mess of blue and purple over his body. He winces at the sight of them, stomach swirling. “Does it hurt?” he asks, voice rough from sleep, and regrets the question as soon as he asks. Of course it hurts. 

Yoongi starts, glancing over his shoulder at him. He flinches when he turns, schooling his expression quickly. “Not too bad.”

“Liar,” Jimin mutters, falling back into the pillows. “Are you going to work?”

“Yeah.”

“Looking like that?”

Yoongi shrugs. “I’ll put on some sunglasses.”

“You’re going to wear sunglasses in your office?”

“No one’s going to say anything to me.”

“Have you ever missed a day of work in your life?”

“I absolutely have.” Yoongi wipes his hands on a tissue and removes a dress shirt from his wardrobe, slipping into it gingerly. His face is swollen as all hell today, bruised from jaw to temple. He’s walking with a limp.

“Take a day off, oh my god,” Jimin grumbles, kicking the blanket around to get comfortable. “You look terrible. You’re not even going to be able to sit at your desk like that.”

“I’ve had worse,” he says. “Do you have class today?”

“In the evening. But I have a doctor’s appointment.”

Yoongi glances at him, pulling on a blazer over his shirt. “Is everything okay?”

“I have to get off my suppressants.” Jimin’s voice is muffled by a pillow. His ears feel a little hot. His mother had scheduled the appointment for him, bringing it up over an uncomfortable cup of coffee a few weeks ago. It’ll take time for your cycle to regulate, she’d said. The wedding isn’t far now . 

Yoongi coughs. “Oh.”

They’re caught in an awkward silence, only the sound of Yoongi getting ready and Jimin shifting under the blanket filling the room. Eventually Yoongi clears his throat. 

“I know our parents expect it, but we don’t have to, uh, have kids right away.”

Jimin groans. He really does not want to be having this conversation right now, but he knows it’s kind of important. “We’re going to have to eventually.”

“Yeah, but we have time. You’re only 20.”

“What if I say I need another ten years?” Jimin says, just to be contrary. 

“Then we can wait ten years,” Yoongi agrees easily, and Jimin lifts his head up to look at him. Nothing about his expression or demeanor looks concerned with the thought of waiting a decade for heirs. 

“Really?”

“Yup.” He picks up his laptop bag and moves toward the door. “See you later, Jimin-ah.”

“At least take a half day!” Jimin calls after him, but he doesn’t get anything in response. 

Jimin lies around uselessly for a few more hours, slipping in and out of sleep, before he finally leaves bed to get ready for his appointment. 

He’s never been to this particular doctor before, but she’s a kind omega who sets him at ease almost immediately. After the initial checkup, she sits him down to discuss quitting his suppressants. 

“You can quit taking them at any time,” she says, “although we’ll prescribe you some vitamins to help your body adjust. But it will take time for your body to return to a normal heat cycle, especially since you’ve been taking them since you were young.”

Jimin nods. “I heard it could take a while.”

“Since you’re young and healthy, you should adjust quickly enough. But your first few heats will be more difficult than you remember.”

“Oh,” Jimin says, unable to keep the distaste from his voice. He’s never had a real heat before, but he’s heard plenty about how miserable they can be. 

“Your mother mentioned you’re getting married in the spring? Congratulations.”

He squirms. “Thank you.”

“Your cycle will regulate itself quicker if you’re living with an alpha or omega,” she explains. “You’ll sync up to match them naturally.”

Jimin wonders if Yoongi has ruts; he hadn’t thought to ask. Then again, it’s unlikely that he’d gone on suppressants the way Jimin did. When he was 14, his mother had told him he’d need to go on them for the sake of the family’s honor. They weren’t going to tolerate an accidental pregnancy. As an alpha, Yoongi probably doesn’t have that problem. He wonders if Yoongi spends his ruts with someone.

“While you can definitely manage on your own, spending your first few heats with someone will help make them easier,” she tells him, and he nods, though he figures he’ll be managing on his own. “You may also experience pre-heat symptoms on and off before your first heat hits.”

“Like, out of nowhere?”

She nods. “They might not be anywhere near your actual heat - think of them like false alarms. After your first heat, those should no longer happen.”

“Got it.”

“Do you have any questions for me?”

“No, I think I’m good.”

“We’ll prescribe you some vitamins, and you’re free to stop taking your suppressants whenever you’d like.”

He thanks and her leaves with the prescriptions, stopping by the pharmacy to pick up the needed medicines before heading to class. He knows he’s going to be spending his heat alone, that it’s probably better that way anyway, but part of him can’t help but think about Yoongi. The thought of Yoongi’s mouth on him, that night on the balcony - Jimin has a hard time focusing for the rest of the day. 

Chapter 13

Jimin’s walking to the coffee shop near the art building when a sleek black car pulls up onto the sidewalk next to him. He tenses on instinct, glancing back at Wonho and Hyunwoo, who are always within sight. The car door opens, and Jimin takes a few steps away from the curb, heart thudding hard in his chest. 

It’s Jaebum. He steps out of the car with a pleasant smile, stopping before Jimin and placing his hands in his pockets. “Good to see you, Jimin-ah.”

Jimin’s brow furrows. “What are you doing here?”

“I was hoping we could talk, actually.”

Jimin glances back at his bodyguards. They’re standing out of earshot, but they look alert. “What did you want to talk about?”

“It’s important, so I’d rather not do it in public.” There’s an appropriate amount of regret in his voice. “If you don’t mind, we’ll drive around the block?”

Getting in a car with Jaebum and his driver sounds like exactly the kind of thing he should not be doing. The doubt must show on his face, because Jaebum starts speaking again before Jimin can answer. 

“Your guards are free to drive along behind us,” he says. “It’ll be a brief conversation, ten minutes at the most. Text someone and let them know who you’re with, if that will make you more comfortable.”

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea, Jaebum-ssi.”

“I promise we’ll drive around the block and I’ll drop you back off here. No games played, honest.”

Jimin bites his lip, debating, and Jaebum reaches into his jacket and pulls out a gun. Before Jimin can jerk away in surprise, he holds it out, handle first. Jimin peers around them anxiously, but no one’s watching. 

“Give it back when I drop you off,” Jaebum says, and Jimin takes it and shoves it into his backpack just to get it out of sight. 

“Let me talk to my guards,” Jimin says stiffly, then spins around to join them. They turn their attention to him as soon as he steps up. 

“The gun?” Hyunwoo asks curtly, and Jimin shows it to him. He takes it, turning it over in his hands, and Wonho steps close to shield it from view. “Looks fine. What does he want?”

“To drive around the block for a ten minute conversation.”

Neither of them react to the request. Their expressions remain impassive. “What would you like to do?” Wonho asks. 

“He says you can drive behind us, and that I can keep the gun until he drops me off again.”

They exchange a glance. “The decision is yours,” Hyunwoo finally says, which Jimin takes to mean it can’t be that dangerous. If it was, they wouldn’t let him go. 

“I’ll go,” Jimin decides. 

“We’ll get some backup in the area,” Wonho says. “Keep your phone in hand.”

Jimin nods. He pulls out his phone, doesn’t bother texting anyone because he knows Wonho and Hyunwoo will take care of that. Before he turns back to join Jaebum, an idea flashes through his mind. He opens his phone’s voice recorder and hits record. Then he clicks the screen off. 

Jaebum raises his eyebrows expectantly when Jimin walks back up to him. 

“Ten minutes,” Jimin warns. “Not a second longer.”

“Of course.” He opens the back door for Jimin to slide inside, joining him around the other side. Jaebum instructs his driver to circle the block, then he puts up the divider. “I’ll admit I’m hurt that you’ve grown to mistrust me so quickly.”

There’s a bitter twist to Jaebum’s mouth, and the way he’s looking at Jimin makes him uncomfortable. “You sent someone to trash my apartment. Why would I trust you?”

“You seem pretty certain that I was behind that.”

“I know you were,” Jimin says, even though he doesn’t. “You had that picture leaked, too, didn’t you?”

He fully expects Jaebum to deny it. He does not, at all, expect what Jaebum says next.

“Then you know about the kidnapping, too?”

Jimin’s heart flies into his throat. He stares at him, mouth dry, suddenly incapable of words or movement or even breathing. 

Jaebum’s mouth curves up. “You didn’t know,” he confirms, and Jimin can tell that he’d known he wouldn’t know, that he’d dropped the information just to have the upper hand again. “I really am sorry about all that. It was nothing personal, believe me - I didn’t want to put you through that.”

Suddenly, Jimin realizes this was a bad idea. A terrible idea. He should have turned and ran as soon as he saw Jaebum step out of his car. 

“You have to understand, I didn’t have a choice,” he continues, choosing to ignore the way Jimin has started to tremble. “I only wanted to show you that marrying Yoongi would be a bad decision.”

“So you had me kidnapped?” Jimin whispers, a root of anger taking hold in his heart. He grabs onto it and wills it to bloom, because he thinks anger will be of more use to him now than fear. 

“I didn’t think they would take it so far,” he says. “The same goes for your apartment. I was only trying to send you and Yoongi a message.”

Jimin squeezes his eyes shut briefly. When he opens them again, he can feel the anger spreading through his veins, heating his body. “What do you want?”

“I want you to break off the engagement,” he says easily. “You’ve proven much braver than I expected, Jimin-ah. I thought you would have run far away by now.”

“And if I don’t?”

Jaebum sighs. He looks away, gazing out the window as if in thought, before he turns his attention back to Jimin. His gaze hardens. “I have a target on that friend of yours. If you don’t do as I ask, I’ll have him killed.”

There’s a roaring in his ears. Jimin feels like he’s drowning, like for a moment he can’t really see anymore, everything hazy and blurry like he’s underwater. He scrambles to pull his head out of the water, inhaling sharply. This isn’t the time for fear, he tells himself. This isn’t the time for fear. 

“It’ll be easy,” Jaebum tells him, his voice calm as if they’re having a conversation about the weather. “I’ll just have to catch him on his way home from work one day.”

“He’s - he’s innocent,” Jimin rasps, even though he knows his words have no effect on Jaebum. “He doesn’t have anything to do with this life.”

“Neither did Namjoon.” Jaebum’s tone is almost pitying. Jimin jerks at the name, digging his trembling fingers into his jeans. 

“That was - that was you? You killed him?”

“Of course. Yoongi brought that upon himself.”

“He was just an innocent guy,” Jimin hisses. “Nothing Yoongi did warranted you killing an innocent person.”

“He was asking for it.” Jaebum shrugs. “Don’t be like him. Do what I’ve asked you to, and Hoseok will never have to get hurt.”

“Why are you doing this? Why are you so against this marriage?”

“I think you can figure that one out on your own,” Jaebum says wryly. “A merger between your families wouldn’t be very good for mine.”

But Jimin knows that can’t be it. He can tell this runs deeper, deep enough that Jaebum had killed Yoongi’s best friend in cold blood, deep enough that he’s been planning this sabotage for so long, perhaps since the very first day he’d seen Jimin in the event planner’s office. He’d been so kind then, a breath of fresh air after the way Yoongi had treated Jimin. Inhye was right; Jimin’s too naive for this life. 

“Really, I’m doing you a favor. I’m giving you an excuse to get out of a marriage you didn’t even want. You can be happy now, Jimin.”

“You’re threatening to kill my best friend,” Jimin whispers, throat tight. “Don’t pretend like you care about my happiness.”

“I don’t want to do that,” Jaebum tells him. “I really don’t. But I’ve tried everything else, and you’re unshakeable.”

“Don’t twist the blame onto me,” Jimin snaps. “You’re fucked up.”

“I’m sorry you think that.” And he does sound sorry. He sounds terribly regretful. “And here we are.”

The car rolls to a stop; Jimin looks out the window. They’re back at the art building. 

“I keep my promises,” Jaebum says. “Do as I ask, and everything will be fine.”

Jimin reaches for the door handle. His legs are shaking, and he doesn’t know if he’ll even be able to walk. 

“And Jimin,” Jaebum starts. Jimin freezes, waiting. “It goes without saying, but our conversation remains between us.”

Jimin gives him a jerky nod and opens the door, stumbling out. He leave the gun behind him on the seat. Wonho and Hyunwoo are already getting out of their car to meet him, gazes roaming over him, inspecting him for injuries. “I’m fine,” he tells them. “Everything’s fine.”

He moves toward the art building, needs a place to sit and pull himself together. He collapses on a bench in the lobby, clutching his head between his hands, and stares at the cracks in the uneven floor. His mind feels locked in a strange void, hollow and unmoving, his stomach swirling with nausea. It’s hard to move, takes effort just to inhale and exhale, chest rising shallowly. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket. He sits still for a long, long moment, can’t bring himself to expend the effort it takes to remove it from his pocket. Finally, he shifts, taking it out slowly. It’s an alert letting him know that his storage is full and the recording has stopped. He swallows. He’d forgotten he’d done that. 

He’d recorded the whole conversation. 

Jimin sits up, then slumps back against the wall. He has the abrupt realization that Jaebum, like Inhye, thinks he’s naive. He can’t imagine him dealing with this the same way if Jimin had been like Yoongi or Jihyun or Jungkook. Jaebum thinks he can take advantage of Jimin’s lack of knowledge, thinks he can make a threat and get what he wants because Jimin will be too scared to do anything about it. 

But Jimin isn’t as foolish as everyone seems to think he is. 

He stands up with a determined air and heads to the coffee shop to buy the coffee he’d planned on before Jaebum stopped him in the street. The key is to act normal. He can’t go anywhere now. If Jaebum has eyes on him, leaving campus when he still has another class in an hour will be suspicious. 

Jimin attends his last class of the day, though he can’t focus for even a minute, then he heads to the car with his guards. “To Yoongi’s parents house, remember?” Jimin tells them. “I’m scheduled for tea with his mother.”

They both know very well that he isn’t scheduled for anything tonight, but they have the presence of mind not to say anything. The drive is unbearably long. Jimin spends it jostling his knee up and down, glaring out the window at the hordes of traffic that keep them delayed. He doesn’t even know if Inhye will be home, but he doesn’t dare text her. 

One of the workers lets him in to the house, seating him in the lounge and bringing him tea while he waits. By the time the tea comes, Inhye emerges from her office, meeting him with the air of someone who wasn’t expecting guests but isn’t sure if she should be pleased or annoyed. 

“Jimin, dear, this is a surprise.” She kisses his cheek and sits next to him on the couch. “Your scent is off. Is something the matter?”

He nods, wringing his fingers in his lap. His knee jostles up and down, and Inhye puts a hand on it to calm the movement. “I, uh, wasn’t sure who to go to. I thought of you first.”

She furrows her brow, though her forehead remains uncreased. “Go to about what?”

Jimin swallows. “About Im Jaebum.”

Her gaze sharpens instantly. “You met him again?”

“He followed me to school.” Jimin pulls his phone from his pocket and sets it on the table. “I think it’s better if you just listen to it.”

“You recorded the conversation?” Jimin nods, and Inhye looks vaguely impressed. “Let’s do this in my office.”

He follows her down the hall, leaving his backpack by his abandoned tea, and into her office. It’s spacious and bright, full of books and knick knacks. They sit at her large oak desk, and Jimin plays the recording. Listening to it again sends him into a cold sweat, his knee resuming its frantic up-and-down. Inhye remains unfazed; her expression only flickers once, when Jaebum takes Namjoon’s name. 

When it’s over, she looks up at him, her mouth set in a cold line. “What made you come to me instead of my son?”

Jimin answers honestly. He isn’t in the presence of mind to craft a response, so he just tells the truth. “It would hurt him,” he says. “I was afraid he’d react rashly. I didn’t know what to do. I thought I would talk to you first, and then we could tell him after.”

Her composure finally cracks. She sighs, massaging her temples with her fingers. “You made the right decision, Jimin-ah.”

“Did you ever suspect he was involved?” Jimin asks quietly. He doesn’t have to specify. 

“Of course we suspected,” she responds, shifting in her chair to gaze out the window. “How could we not? But we never found any proof, and the Im family was quick to hand over the killer to Yoongi for retribution.”

“Oh,” Jimin breathes. So that was their punishment, then. Yoongi must have killed the man himself. “What did - what did he mean when he said Yoongi brought it upon himself?”

“As the heir of the Min clan, he did what he had to do,” she shrugs. “He only looks back on it as a mistake because of the way they retaliated, but at the time, he did what he thought was best. What we all thought was best.”

Jimin waits quietly, wondering if she will elaborate. After a moment, she does. 

“We became aware of a plot to sabotage our merger with a company in China. Some of our people caught an Im in one of our factories. He’d killed our people, delayed a shipment. It came to the matter of punishment, and Yoongi had him killed.” She taps her lip, eyes far away. “It turned out he was a high-ranking Im. They weren’t happy.”

“If they were taking revenge, they shouldn’t have gone for someone outside the family. That isn’t an eye for an eye. That’s worse.”

She nods. “They didn’t play by the rules. But the Im clan isn’t known for following rules. They have no honor.”

Jimin squeezes his fingers together, watching them turn white. “What do we do?”

“Your friend, he’s staying with the Jeon boy, right?”

“Yeah. Jungkook.”

“I’ll speak with him. I’ll take care of this, Jimin-ah. I don’t want you to worry about anything now. You did the right thing by coming to me.”

Jimin nods, though he doesn’t like the lack of detail. He trusts her to take care of the situation, but he wishes she would tell him how. He needs to know that Hoseok will be okay.

“Im Jaebum will pay for this,” she says, and her voice is like steel. “I’ll make sure of it.”

❦

Yoongi doesn’t come home for dinner that night. 

Jimin waits for him, sitting in silence at the kitchen counter, until Yoongi texts him to let him know he’ll be home late and not to wait up for him. He ends up boiling some ramen and eating it alone before he goes to bed. He can’t sleep, of course. He’s scared, always fucking scared, and he’s tired of it. Tired of having to depend so heavily on others for his safety. But he has no choice, he knows that; he isn’t fool enough to think he can handle this situation on his own. 

His eyes burn with tiredness, but every shadow looks like a face and he can’t move. It takes enormous willpower for him to lift his limbs, to leap off bed and run out of his room into Yoongi’s. He climbs into Yoongi’s bed, soothed by his scent, heartbeat finally slowing down. He burrows himself into his pillows, shifting them around to suit himself. 

He must doze off at some point because when he wakes, it’s to Yoongi’s voice and the light on. 

“Jimin?” he says, clearly surprised. “Shit, sorry.” He promptly flicks the lights out, but Jimin’s already awake. 

He lifts his head up to watch him enter, lit by the open doorway. “Is it okay if I sleep here?” he slurs, voice rough from his doze. 

Yoongi snorts quietly. He sets his laptop bag down and removes his blazer, hanging it in the wardrobe. “Looks like you’re already sleeping here.”

“‘Kay, thanks,” Jimin mumbles, dropping his head back on the pillow. He listens to Yoongi shuffle in and out of the bathroom, eyes slipping shut and only opening again when he feels a weight on the bed. 

“What’d you do to my bed, huh?” Yoongi says, noting the way Jimin has started to nest. He doesn’t sound annoyed. 

Jimin doesn’t answer, just scoots closer to Yoongi when he lies down. He slings his arm around his waist, resting his head on his chest. 

“Everything okay?” Yoongi asks, running a hand gently through Jimin’s hair. 

Somehow, Jimin has held it together all day, and yet Yoongi’s simple question finally breaks him. He swallows harshly, tears welling up in his eyes. All he’d wanted to do was call Hoseok today, hear his voice, reassure himself that he was alive and well. But he couldn’t do it. He knew Hoseok would know instantly that something was wrong. They could never hide from each other. 

“I’m fine,” Jimin whispers, tears slipping down his nose, and Yoongi doesn’t ask again. 

Jimin cries silently until there’s a damp spot on Yoongi’s shirt, shoulders shaking. Yoongi strokes his hair and back, careful and quiet, emitting pheromones for comfort. Eventually, his tears stop, and Jimin falls asleep clutching Yoongi’s shirt like a lifeline. 

❦

He wakes up blearily when Yoongi’s getting ready, missing the warmth of his body. He curls up into the pillows to make up for it. Yoongi must notice, because he quietly asks, “Jimin-ah? You up?”

“Kinda,” Jimin mumbles, rubbing his nose. 

“Do you like cats?”

Jimin’s too tired to really dwell on the randomness of the question. “Love cats,” he says sleepily, voice muffled by the pillow. “Always wanted one but Grandma said no.”

Yoongi’s quiet. Jimin lifts his head up just enough to uncover one eye so he can watch Yoongi fix his tie. “Me, too,” Yoongi finally says. “I like cats.”

That’s the end of that. Jimin buries himself back in bed and falls asleep promptly, and when he wakes up again, Yoongi’s long gone. He doesn’t have class until later, so he shuffles around aimlessly, finds a banana to eat and tries to remind himself that calling Hoseok isn’t a good idea. Eventually he curls up on the couch with his laptop, glasses perched on his nose, so he can get some reading done for class. 

He’s engrossed in his third article when the apartment door opens. Jimin glances at the time; it’s only noon, far too early for Yoongi to be home. He peeks over the back of the couch warily, hoping it’s Yoongi but at the same time not really believing that it is. 

“Jimin?” Yoongi calls, and Jimin hears the sound of him kicking his shoes off. He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

“Why are you home?” Jimin calls back, and Yoongi turns the corner of the entrance. He’s holding a box in one arm and plastic bag full of what looks like takeout. 

“It’s my lunch break,” he says, setting the takeout down on the counter. He doesn’t let go of the other box, and Jimin peers at it curiously. It almost looks like it’s moving. “Thought I’d, uh, pop by.”

Jimin squints at him. It kind of sounds like he’d come back to check on Jimin. “Pop by?”

“Come eat,” Yoongi mutters. “It’s from that restaurant you like.”

Jimin sets his laptop down and meets him at the counter. He pulls the food out and recognizes it immediately. It’s his favorite order from his favorite restaurant, the one near his old apartment that he and Hoseok always used to go to. “How’d you know this was my favorite?”

Yoongi sniffs, looking away. “Jungkook said Hoseok said you liked this place.”

A smile spreads across Jimin’s face. He looks at the food, then back at Yoongi. “Wow, hyung. You really went asking around just to get me lunch?”

“Yeah, well. You can’t eat ramen all the time. It’s bad for you.”

Jimin’s about to reply when he hears a shuffling from the box Yoongi’s still holding and something that sounds suspiciously like a squeak. He spins around, question on the tip of his tongue, and leans over to look inside. 

It’s a cat. 

A kitten, more specifically, tiny and so fluffy that it almost looks like a cotton ball. Jimin’s eyes widen, and he gasps quietly as he reaches into the box to let the kitten sniff at his fingers. It does so warily, wet nose tickling Jimin’s fingertips, then it rubs its head against his hand. He coos, lifting it out of the box. It’s soft and so tiny and fragile in his hold. 

“Her name’s Haru,” Yoongi says. “But I guess she’s young enough that you could change the name, if you want.”

Jimin lowers himself to the floor, setting Haru down in his lap. She sniffs around curiously, turning circles. “We’re - we’re keeping her?” He looks up in time to see Yoongi nod. “You got us a cat?”

“My coworker’s cat had babies. She was looking for someone to take a few off her hands, so I’d been thinking about bringing one home.” He shrugs. “I thought you might like having someone else around.”

Jimin’s ashamed to admit that he nearly starts crying. But he isn’t about to cry in front of Yoongi for the second time in less than 24 hours, so he holds back the tears valiantly. “That’s really nice, hyung,” he whispers. “That’s really nice of you.”

Yoongi looks embarrassed. “I’m having everything we need for her delivered. Should be here in a bit.”

Haru squeaks, nosing wetly at Jimin’s arm, and Jimin feels like he’s melting into a puddle of goo. He coos at her, scratching behind her tiny ears, and she’s so sweet and trusting despite all the newness. When he looks up, Yoongi’s watching them with a fond look in his eyes. Jimin holds his gaze, blush spreading across his cheeks, and Yoongi looks away first. 

“Come eat,” Yoongi says.

“I don’t wanna let her go,” Jimin whines, letting Haru sniff his fingers before she turns around and plops onto her back. 

“You need to eat something before you go to class.”

Jimin sighs and leaves her with great difficulty, letting her explore her new home while he and Yoongi settle at the counter for lunch. “Have you ever had a cat before?” Jimin asks, and Yoongi nods. 

“Namjoon and I had one when we lived together. Her name was Mochi. She, uh, got run over by a car.”

“Oh,” Jimin mumbles. “That’s terrible.”

“Pretty sure Joon cried for a week.”

Jimin stares down at his food, lips twisting. Keeping secrets doesn’t come easily to him. It’s hard work, restraining himself, especially when it’s a secret like this one - a secret that Yoongi very much deserves to know. But Jimin can only imagine what’ll happen if he tells him. Yoongi will be out of here in a second, guns blazing, and all hell will break loose. 

He has to trust that Inhye will find the right time to tell him the truth. 

“What was he like?” Jimin asks quietly. “Namjoon-ssi?”

Rather than clam up like Jimin had expected, the corner of Yoongi’s mouth turns up in the hint of a smile. “A clutz,” he says fondly, and Jimin finds himself smiling in response. “You know how much time I spent fixing shit around the apartment because of him? Ridiculous.”

Yoongi moves a piece of meat, one of the nice juicy ones, from his to-go container and into Jimin’s. It’s a gesture of habit, one that Yoongi seems to attach no particular weight to; he doesn’t even look at Jimin when he does it. Jimin smiles a little wider. 

“He was also probably the best person I’ve ever known.” Yoongi’s voice softens. “One of those people who’s always trying to grow and better himself, you know? I’m not - I’m not that kind of person. So he always made me want to try harder.”

“Yeah,” Jimin murmurs. Jimin’s a hard worker when it comes to the tangible, but he doesn’t know if he’s ever worked very hard on who he is as a person. 

“He used to, like, read self-help books and pick up all these random hobbies like knitting and gardening and then he’d always drag me into it, too.”

“You? Knitting?” Jimin laughs, and Yoongi shoots him a look.

“I know.”

“He must have been very powerful, to convince you to do that kind of stuff.”

Yoongi scoffs quietly. “Yeah, he was.” He gets up and brews himself a shot of espresso from the machine, glancing back at Jimin with raised brows. Jimin nods, so he pulls out a second cup. “He thought too much, though, had to knock him back down to earth every now and then. But he, uh, was a really good friend. Better than I deserved.”

Standing in front of the espresso machine, back to Jimin, Yoongi looks awfully small. Hunched shoulders, tiny waist, bowed head. Jimin feels a pang of sadness. Haru meows softly, and he looks down to find her circling his stool, peering up at him. He bends over to scratch her head. 

“I think,” Jimin starts slowly, letting her nose at his palm, “that people come into our lives when we need them. And that doesn’t really have anything to do with what we deserve or don’t deserve.”

Yoongi glances at him over his shoulder with a wry smile. “Even the bad ones?”

“Even the bad ones.” He pauses in thought. “Well, most of them, anyway.”

“That’s awfully wise, Park Jimin-ssi.” Yoongi returns with their coffee and settles back into his stool. “Then what did you need Jaebum for, huh?”

“Hyung!” Jimin whines, shoving at him. Yoongi wobbles, laughing. “You’re never gonna let that go.”

“Nope.”

“I needed him to keep me company when you were ignoring me,” Jimin huffs, sticking his tongue out. Yoongi grins, ruffling Jimin’s hair. 

“I know, I know. I’m doing better about that though, right?”

Jimin nods. “Though you still work too much.”

He’s mostly joking, knows he’s busy with classes himself and can’t fault Yoongi for having so much work to do. But Yoongi sighs and says, “I know, I’m working on that. It’s, uh, a hard habit to break.”

Jimin blinks at him, surprised and a little touched that he’s grown so conscious of Jimin’s presence in his life. That he’s making an effort. “Yeah,” he finally says, cheeks warm, returning to his food. 

Yoongi glances at the watch on his wrist. “I should get going soon. You want me to drop you off at school?”

“Yes, please. Lemme get dressed.”

Jimin hops off the stool and heads for the stairs, pausing halfway through the living room. He looks back. “Hyung,” he says, and Yoongi hums to show he’s listening. “Thank you.”

Chapter 14

Notes:

i wanted to have another fic done for jimi's bday but i failed SO here is an early update in honor of jimin's bday instead!!! happy bday to park jimi~

Jimin’s had trouble focusing since his conversation with Jaebum, the uncertainty making him anxious and afraid, so he reserves a study room in the university library one afternoon. He’s hoping the small space will force him to get some work done; he’s desperately behind in everything. Wonho and Hyunwoo are hanging out somewhere outside the room, keeping an eye on things like always, so when the study room door opens, Jimin jolts in surprise. 

A guy in a leather jacket and face mask walks in, and Jimin tenses, wondering why his guards didn’t stop him. “I have the room for another hour - ” 

The guy pulls his mask down, and Jimin sags with relief. It’s Jungkook.

“Hey, hyung,” he says, and Jimin tosses a balled up piece of paper at him.

“You scared me, asshole.”

“What, you have so little faith in your guards?”

Jimin huffs. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to talk to you.” He pulls out a chair across from Jimin and makes himself comfortable. “It’s important.”

“Is everything okay? Is Hoseok hyung okay?”

“Everything’s fine. It’s about Hoseok hyung, though. Yoongi’s mother got in touch with me.”

Jimin’s mouth shapes an oh . He glances toward the large windows of the study room that face out to the library. He still doesn’t know if Jaebum’s having him watched, but he suspects he is. Wonho and Hyunwoo seem warier than usual these days, and Jimin thinks they must have figured it out. 

“It’s alright,” Jungkook says. “I want them to see us.”

“What’s going on?”

“We have a plan.” Jungkook rests his arms on the table, leaning forward as he speaks. His gaze is intense on Jimin, and Jimin feels a little intimidated, even though he knows Jungkook’s on his side. “We have some dirt on Jaebum. Turns out half the money he’s been washing through his businesses is going to a gang in China instead of back to him.”

Jimin’s eyes widen. “No way.”

“Yup. We tell his family, they’ll kill him themselves.”

A shiver runs up Jimin’s spine. In their world, family is everything. A betrayal like Jaebum’s would have drastic consequences. “Why the hell was he doing that?”

Jungkook shrugs. “They might have something on him, too. Or maybe his loyalties are divided. Who knows, who cares. The point is, we’ve got him.”

“Oh. Oh, wow.”

“He won’t do anything to any of you as long as this information is dangling over his head. But just to be safe, we don’t want you implicated in any way, so we’re gonna need your help.”

“Okay,” Jimin says slowly.

“I’m gonna need you to walk out of here five minutes after I do, find somewhere to hide, and call Jaebum.”

Jimin’s teeth clench, nervous already, but he waits for Jungkook to finish explaining. 

“Tell him you found out the Min family had a wire on you, that after everything’s that happened it seems like they don’t really trust you after all. Tell him I came here to tell you we’re going to take care of Jaebum, that you don’t have to worry about Hoseok.”

“How would I have found out about the supposed wire?”

“I admitted it by accident. It’s on your backpack, so you leave it in here when you call him.”

Jimin squints at him. “There isn’t really a bug on me, is there?”

Jungkook just grins. “I mean, I wouldn’t put it past Yoongi’s parents, but as far as I know, no wire.”

Jimin sighs, putting his head briefly in his hands before looking back up. “Okay. Okay, I can do this.”

“I know it’s a lot to ask. But we just wanna have our bases covered. It’s better if you aren’t involved at all.”

“I get it.” Jimin swallows. “How’s hyung?”

“He’s mad at me for drinking his last banana milk.”

Jimin shakes his head. “You’ve made a grave mistake.”

“Come and visit us sometime. Hyung would love to have you.”

“That’d be nice. When this all blows over, I’d like that.”

Jungkook nods and slips his face mask back up. “Don’t worry about him, Jimin hyung. I won’t let anything happen to him.”

His voice is hard, eyes narrow, and Jimin believes him. He nods. “I trust you.”

“Good luck. I trust you, too.”

Jungkook leaves, and Jimin sits there staring at the wall for a long five minutes before he grabs his phone and ducks out of the study room. He takes the stairs to a bathroom on the fifth floor that he knows no one ever uses, slipping into an empty stall and locking it. Hands shaking, he takes a deep breath and calls Jaebum. 

“Jimin-ah,” comes Jaebum’s smooth voice down the line. “I hope you’re calling with good news.”

Jimin swallows audibly. “Not exactly.”

His voice sharpens. “What is it?” 

“I, uh - ” He draws in a shaky breath. “I didn’t have anything to do with it, I swear, but they have me bugged.”

“Who?”

“Yoongi’s family.” Jimin chews on the skin around his thumb then pulls his hand away. “There’s a wire on my backpack. Jungkook told me, he was just with me, he said they all know and that they’re going to deal with you.”

“Tell me why I should believe you.”

Jimin lets the genuine panic seep into his voice. “I didn’t know, how the fuck would I know they had me bugged ? I thought they trusted me, I - why would I call you and tell you they’re planning something if I was the one who told them?”

“Where are you?”

“Bathroom in the library, he came while I was in the study room. He, uh, he didn’t say what they were gonna do, just said they had it handled. I swear, I didn’t say anything to them, I’d never endanger hyung like that - ”

“You know what I’ll do to you if you’re lying, Jimin-ah.” His voice is deadly calm. 

Jimin’s thumb finds its way to his mouth again. “I know,” he whispers, tears springing to his eyes. “I’m not lying.”

Jaebum hangs up. 

Jimin sinks to the ground, arms wrapped around himself, and hopes with every fiber of his being that Jaebum believes him. 

❦

Jimin spends two days so anxious that he can barely eat or sleep. He floats through them in a daze, unable to bring himself to the present when all he can think about is the potential future. There’s nothing to do but wait, so Jimin waits. Yoongi can tell something’s wrong and tries to pry it out of him unsuccessfully. He even lets Jimin sit in his office while he works one evening, which just goes to show exactly how bad Jimin is at hiding his turmoil. 

On the morning of the third day, Jimin receives a text from Inhye. 

It’s taken care of. 

Jimin breathes for what feels like the first time in days, then he calls Hoseok and asks if he can come over. 

❦

They’ve known each other for so long that Jimin’s omega recognizes Hoseok’s scent as family, finding a comfort in it that he only finds in his grandmother. One of Jimin’s favorite places to be is curled up with Hoseok, breathing in the fresh citrus. When they were younger, they’d even build their nests together sometimes, finding the shared space comforting. Now they’re a bit too independent for that to work, but still. 

It’s his first time at Jungkook’s place, and so far Jimin has spent it wrapped up with Hoseok, a blanket tucked around their shoulders. The TV’s running, but he’s pretty sure neither of them have looked at the screen for longer than a minute. 

“So she basically tells me I did their budgets wrong,” Hoseok’s telling him. “And then she tries to report me to the department head even though I literally sent her the budget breakdown that proved I was right.”

“Oh my god. Please tell me your department head isn’t a piece of work like her.”

“Thankfully, no. She looked over everything and then got mad at the shitty coworker for wasting her time.”

Jimin snorts. “Good, that’s what she deserves.”

“I’m so tired. I heard a rumor she’s leaving the company, though.”

“This adult life thing sounds hard.”

“It sucks,” Hoseok agrees. He threads a hand through Jimin’s hair. “I miss you. We haven’t been talking as much.”

Jimin winces. “I know, I’m sorry. I was just - stressed and stuff.”

“I get it. You hole up when you’re upset.”

“I’ll do better,” Jimin promises, and he means it. Now that he doesn’t have to worry about keeping a deadly secret, he won’t have to hide from Hoseok. “You should show me your room.”

In the glowing light of the TV, Jimin catches the way Hoseok flushes. “I, uh, actually just share with Jungkook.”

Jimin shifts in his hold to look at him, wicked grin spreading across his face. “Oh you do, do you?”

“Shut up,” Hoseok mutters. “He gave me a guest room when I got here, but - ”

“You couldn’t hop off his dick long enough to use it?”

Hoseok shrieks, shoving his face away, and Jimin bursts into laughter. “Wash your mouth out with soap.”

“Please, you’re the reason I turned out this way. Bad influence.”

“You were always like this.”

Jimin huffs, snuggling back against his chest. “Things are going well then? Even though you’re a commitment-phobe?”

“I am not a commitment-phobe, you ass.”

“You kind of are.”

“Things are great,” Hoseok sniffs. “Really great. We’re, uh, really suited to each other in terms of living together? He’s neat, doesn’t leave his clothes all over the floor, cooks for himself. The only thing that really annoys me is how late he sleeps.”

“Is this supposed to be a subtle jab at me being a bad roommate?”

“If I was trying to call you out, I wouldn’t be subtle about it.”

“True,” Jimin muses. “I’m glad you guys are doing well. You deserve it.”

Hoseok kisses the top of his head. “How about you and the asshole?”

Jimin giggles. “Actually, he’s being really nice. Um, things are nice.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jimin says a little shyly, smiling to himself. “He got us a cat.”

“No way,” Hoseok gasps. “You really are getting married.”

“That’s the idea.”

“Pictures!” Hoseok makes grabby hands at him, and Jimin shifts around to look for his phone, which has gotten buried between them. Hoseok grunts when he gets elbowed in the ribs. 

The front door opens, the alarm announcing it in a cool tone, and Jungkook’s voice rings through the apartment. “I’m home,” he calls, nearly a singsong. “Is that Jimin hyung?”

“Hi,” Jimin calls back, craning over the couch to see Jungkook walk in holding a few grocery bags. “How’d you know?”

“You think I don’t recognize your lavender by now?” Jungkook sets the bags down on the counter, removing snacks from them. “And your guards were loitering around outside.”

“ Outside outside?” Jimin sighs. “I hope they’re not cold. I hate having guards.”

Hoseok pets his hair sympathetically. “Speaking of the cold, you know it’s almost your birthday, right? Time’s passed so fast. Are we doing something?”

“Oh,” Jimin mumbles, surprised to find that he’d forgotten his birthday was coming up. There have been so many other, greater things to be worrying about than a day that comes every year and passes like any other. “Not really. We could do dinner?”

“Please,” Jungkook snorts. He fills a bowl with popcorn and brings it over to them. Hoseok blows him a kiss. “The Mins are definitely going to throw you a bash.”

Jimin groans.

“They have to, you’re almost part of the family. It’s etiquette.”

“I’m guessing there’s no way I’ll get out of this.”

“Unlikely. It might not be too bad, though. They’ll either go the dinner party route, or they’ll rent out a club for a night.”

“Clubbing with our parents does not sound like a good option, Jungkook.”

Jungkook grins. “They’ll probably just stay for the cake-cutting then leave.”

“The club idea sounds better,” Hoseok says. “We haven’t been clubbing in ages.”

“Remember that time you got shitfaced and - ”

Hoseok claps his hand over Jimin’s mouth to halt the flow of words, glaring at him. “No.”

“Wait, I wanna hear this story,” Jungkook interjects, and Hoseok glares at Jimin so hard he looks like he wants to burn a hole through him. 

Jimin glares right back, then he licks Hoseok’s palm. Hoseok doesn’t even flinch. 

“Try me, Park Jimin,” he hisses. 

Jimin relaxes, falling limp, and Hoseok takes that as defeat and moves his hand away. As soon as his mouth’s free, Jimin blurts, “Hoseok hyung jumped - ”

Hoseok’s on him in a heartbeat, mercilessly tickling his sides until Jimin dissolves into a mess of giggles, tears in his eyes, while Jungkook watches on helplessly. The story never does get told. 

❦

Jimin had heard that kittens are energetic, but he thinks Haru is more like a puppy. She can’t sit still for one second. Every time he looks up, she’s zooming across the apartment, climbing over things and jumping half a foot into the air when she sees something she doesn’t like. Jimin should probably be doing his work, but instead he’s humoring her, rolling around the living room floor and letting her crawl all over him. The cat care books say you shouldn’t do that because it builds bad habits, but she’s so damn cute, Jimin can’t help it. 

He rolls onto his back and snatches Haru up just as she runs by him, holding her up in the air. She squeaks indignantly, and he laughs, bringing her down to kiss her head. He sets her on the ground, and she hops right onto his tummy. 

“Ow, Haru,” he complains. “That’s my belly you’re kneading, baby.”

She scrambles off like she hears his complaints, then she shoots off down the hallway. 

“No, wait,” he groans, pushing himself to his feet. “Come back. Don’t leave me.”

He follows her down the hall, trying to coax her into returning, but she ignores him and slips right through the slightly ajar door of Yoongi’s office. Jimin sighs. She’s just going to get in there and disturb him, and anyway Jimin still wants her to himself. He follows with the intent of catching her and bringing her back outside. 

It’s only a moment’s delay before he enters Yoongi’s office, but it’s enough time for Yoongi to have slipped to the floor by his desk to tuck her into his lap. Jimin pauses in the doorway, grinning at the sight of them. Yoongi’s cooing, ruffling her fur, giving her little air kisses. 

“Hyung,” Jimin complains. Yoongi’s head shoots up, embarrassment coloring his cheeks pink. “You stole her from me.”

“Yah, we share her.”

Jimin pouts, stepping inside. Yoongi’s office has much more personality in it than the rest of his place. The bookshelves lining the walls contain knick knacks that must be from Yoongi’s travels, and there’s another painting hanging behind his desk, some artsy rendition of a KAWS figure. There’s a basketball jersey arranged on one of the shelves. He has a picture of him and Jungkook on one of the shelves, one of him and Namjoon on their graduation day. There are no family pictures anywhere, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why. 

“How could you do this to me?” Jimin says theatrically, crossing his legs to sit on the floor near them. “And here I was coming to rescue you from her, thinking you were hard at work - ”

“Okay, drama queen.”

Jimin lies down on his side, knows Haru will come running once she sees him on the floor. Sure enough, she hops right out of Yoongi’s lap to come sniff at Jimin’s belly instead. He picks her up, rolling onto his back and setting her on his chest. 

“I win,” he announces. 

“Brat,” Yoongi mutters, reaching over to flick Jimin’s forehead. 

Haru grows tired of Jimin quickly enough, fighting her way out of his hold to sniff around under Yoongi’s desk instead. Jimin sits up, catching sight of what looks like a sketchbook lying open on the couch by the window. 

“Do you still draw?” he asks curiously, turning to Yoongi. 

“Uh, sometimes.” Yoongi looks self-conscious, can’t quite meet Jimin’s eyes. 

“Can I see?”

“They’re just doodles, really.”

“Are any of the paintings in the house yours?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “They’re just stuff I bought. Some of them are Namjoon’s, like that one.” He gestures to the one behind his desk. 

“I thought so. The style is similar to the one by the entrance,” Jimin notes. “They’re amazing, both of them.”

Yoongi beams, just a little, and it’s endearing. “Yeah, aren’t they?”

“I wanna see yours,” Jimin wheedles. “From an artist’s standpoint, not your fiancé’s, how about that?”

Yoongi looks evasive, eyes darting away.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Jimin says cheekily, and that pulls a snort from Yoongi. 

“Fine,” he mutters. It sounds like it takes him a great deal of effort to say it, but he does. “Have at it.”

Jimin settles onto the couch, pulling the sketchbook into his lap. He starts where Yoongi’s left it open on a sketch of a cherry blossom tree. It’s beautiful - fine, delicate lines. He flips to the next page and finds a dragon, something that looks like it could easily be a clan tattoo, intricate in its detail. 

“You should be a tattoo artist,” Jimin muses, moving through more of his lovely sketches, unable to keep the awe from his gaze. Having been to art school, Jimin has seen plenty of talented artists in his time, and Yoongi’s good. Really good. 

“Thought about it,” Yoongi admits. 

Jimin flips to the next page and freezes. 

For a moment, he can’t breathe. His heart thuds to a stop then stutters back to life, beating at twice its normal speed. He swallows. Yoongi’s drawn him. He’s asleep on the couch across the TV, head pillowed on his arms, glasses slipping off his nose. A book’s tucked against his chest. This is old, back from when he first moved in; Jimin remembers this, when he’d only been comfortable going out to the living room when Yoongi wasn’t home. He’d fallen asleep reading and woken up to Yoongi shuffling around the kitchen, embarrassment hot in his belly. 

It’s a pretty sketch. Jimin finds it strange to look at himself and think of how lovely he is, but he can’t help but think of anything else. Yoongi has drawn him so prettily, lips full and slightly parted, hair fanning across the couch, round cheeks and long lashes. 

“Oh,” Jimin murmurs. “You drew me.”

Yoongi shoots up like a dart, flushing red, and snatches the sketchbook out of Jimin’s hands. “Fuck,” he says. He holds the sketchbook against him like a shield. “Forgot about that.”

Jimin looks up at him and finds that he doesn’t quite know what to say. 

Yoongi seems to make some sort of decision because he sighs, sets the book down, and shoves his hands in his pockets. He leans against the edge of his desk, peering at Jimin through the fringe of his hair. “You, uh, looked really stressed around that time. So it was nice seeing you sleep like that. Not stressed.”

“You drew me really pretty.”

“You are pretty.”

Jimin feels the flush spread across his cheeks. They stare at each other, something heavy in the air between them. Jimin glances away, uncharacteristically shy, and catches Haru slip out of the room. He jumps up. 

“I should, um, go feed her,” he blurts, then he makes his escape. 

Chapter 15

Notes:

i realized that this chapter is about jimi's bday and i couldn't possibly lose the chance to post jimi's bday chapter ON jimi's bday... it's still the 13th where i am so here u go happy bday jimi pt.2!!!

It turns out Jungkook is right. The Min family throws Jimin a birthday bash, and fortunately it’s of the nightclub variety. Apparently they partially own some night club in Itaewon, so they reserve the place for the evening. Jimin and Yoongi’s family are going out to dinner before Jimin, Yoongi, and Jihyun head to the nightclub alone. 

Jimin wakes up on the morning of his birthday feeling no different for having turned 21. There’s nothing special about 21, he decides, except that it’s the age he’ll be when he gets married. It feels awfully young for that. Jimin still kind of feels like a kid. If anything, he supposes he should just be grateful that he’s made it to 21, considering the events of the past six months. 

Haru pads through his slightly open door, hopping onto his bed and planting herself right on his chest. He scratches her head, yawning, and she purrs happily. 

“I’m 21,” he tells her. “And all the nonsense that’s been going on because of Jaebum is over. Guess that’s a good reason to celebrate, right?”

She meows.

Jimin forces himself out of bed and prepares for class. Yoongi had asked if he wanted to do anything, if he should take a day off work, but Jimin had refused. They’re going to be together all evening, and anyway, things have been awkward since the sketchbook incident. He only has two classes, and he decides he can take a day off from working on an ongoing project on account of his birthday. 

He heads home, intent on lazing around for the rest of the day. He’s only just made it inside, beelining for the fridge, when Yoongi enters after him. He kicks off his shoes and passes by the kitchen, pausing at the sight of Jimin. 

“Hey, you’re home early,” Jimin says. 

“Yeah, not feeling so great.” Yoongi’s voice sounds rough. Jimin frowns. He looks a little flushed.

“Do you have a fever?” Jimin asks, stepping close to press a hand to his forehead. As soon as he closes the distance between them, the realization hits him. He colors pink, stepping back quickly. He isn’t fast enough to avoid a lungful of Yoongi’s scent, heightened and musky, a clear indicator of pre-rut. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi mutters. “Just gonna sleep it off before we go.”

“Are you okay to go? Do you - should I find somewhere to stay?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “Shouldn’t hit for another day at least, I’ll be fine. I’m gonna get a rut room, so you don’t have to go anywhere.”

“Are you sure? I can stay with Hoseok hyung - ”

“I’m sure.” Yoongi stumbles off toward the stairs. “See you in a bit.”

“Tell me if you need anything!” Jimin calls after him, and Yoongi waves his fingers to show he’s heard before shutting the door firmly behind him. 

Yoongi doesn’t emerge until it’s time for dinner. He looks markedly better, the flush gone from his cheeks, his steps steadier. His scent is still strong, and Jimin tries to breathe through his mouth. It doesn’t help that he looks amazing, has Jimin’s heart stuttering when he looks at him. His tie’s a little askew, and Jimin uses it as an excuse. 

“Here, lemme fix that,” he offers, stepping up to Yoongi until their toes touch. 

His scent is intoxicating. Jimin’s drowning in it, feels like he’s floating, and he finds himself leaning in closer than necessary as he adjusts Yoongi’s tie. 

“Smell so good, hyung,” he says, throaty, nose brushing Yoongi’s cheek. 

Yoongi’s hand fists gently in the back of his hair. He pulls him away, and Jimin lets himself be handled, feeling a little drunk. “Jimin-ah,” he warns, gaze shuttered, and Jimin gets the hint. He swallows harshly and moves across the room to clear his head. 

Dinner passes like any other family event, only this time Jimin’s lavished with presents. They’re all shiny and showy and not of particular interest to him except Jihyun, who gets him concert tickets, and Yoongi, who says it’s a secret. 

“Why can’t I know?” Jimin asks petulantly, to which everyone else coos and Yoongi only smiles. 

After dinner, they head straight to the club. Jihyun meets them there with his date, and most of the guests have already arrived when they enter. The music is pounding and people are dancing. There’s supposed to be a cake-cutting, but the thought of standing up in front of all these people he doesn’t know and blowing out his birthday candles sounds miserable. 

“Let’s don’t and say we did,” Jimin whispers, and Yoongi nods in agreement. He gestures for someone else to go ahead and start distributing the cake. 

Hoseok pushes through the crowd to find him, dragging Jungkook along behind him. “Jiminie!” he shrieks, flinging his arms around Jimin and peppering kisses all over his head. “Happy birthday to my baby.”

“Hyung, don’t choke me to death,” Jimin laughs, shoving him off. 

“You should be wishing me happy birthday. I’m your mom.”

“Oh my god, be quiet.” 

“Come on, let’s dance.” Hoseok tugs on his arm, and Jimin looks back at Yoongi.

“Hyung, you wanna come dance?”

Yoongi, predictably, snorts. “No, thanks. Have fun.”

“I’ll hang out with hyung for a bit,” Jungkook says, waving them both off. 

Jimin turns back to Hoseok, who’s raising his eyebrows in expectation, and nods. He lets himself be yanked into the crowd, grinning so wide it almost hurts. He’s 21, and he survived the worst six months of his life, and he’s safe and most importantly, Hoseok’s safe. 

Tonight, he can afford to live a little. 

❦

Yoongi isn’t paying attention to him. 

Jimin isn’t drunk; he’s just a little buzzed, enough so that he’s feeling a little more shameless and carefree than usual, and enough so that he can’t stop looking over at Yoongi. After Yoongi’s refusal to dance, he’d gone to sit on a couch up on the balcony, watching over the dance floor. Friends of his - or more likely acquaintances - keep rotating in and out, sitting with him for brief chats before someone else takes their place. But right now he’s alone, and Jimin won’t hesitate to admit how turned on he is by the way Yoongi looks - shiny watch on his wrist, whiskey in hand, legs spread and cigarette dangling from his lips. He kind of hates himself for it, stereotypical as it is. 

“I hate him,” Jimin whines as Hoseok drags him to the bar to get himself another drink. 

Hoseok flags the bartender down to order, then turns to Jimin and snorts. “Is that what you’re calling it? ‘Cause you look like you wanna hop on his dick right here.”

“I do,” Jimin whines again, shaking Hoseok’s arm for emphasis. He can’t stop thinking about Yoongi’s scent, the sandalwood turned heady and intense. “Why doesn’t he want me? I’m such a good fuck. He’s gonna be thinking about me for days .”

Hoseok pats Jimin’s head sympathetically. “I know, I know. How have things been between you two?”

“Pretty good,” Jimin admits. “You know he drew a picture of me? Of me ?”

“That’s actually kind of cute.”

“I know!”

“Maybe he’s just trying to take things slow.”

“But why !” Jimin groans. “Do you have any idea how horny I am all the time? You know, yesterday he walked out of his room with his shirt unbuttoned like it was no big deal - ”

“Oh my god.”

“I wanna fuck him so bad.” Jimin drops his head despondently on the counter. “Last time was so good. I want him to rearrange my insides. I want him to fuck me so hard I can feel his dick through my stomach - ”

“Oh my god!” Hoseok shrieks, clapping his hands over his ears. “Shut up, nasty.”

“Please, remember when you were waxing poetic about Jungkook’s dick twitching down your throat - ”

“We’re talking about my dick?” comes a pleasant voice from behind them. Jimin winces, turning around slowly to find Jungkook standing there. He looks like he’s trying hard not to laugh. 

“Yeah,” Hoseok says, leaning nonchalantly on the counter. “What of it?”

Jungkook slips into a grin, caging Hoseok against the bar. “Well, if it’s my dick you’re thinking about - ”

“I’m leaving!” Jimin announces, spinning on his heel, their laughter echoing behind him. 

“Just go tell him you wanna fuck!” Hoseok shouts after him, and Jimin flips him off. Like he hadn’t thought of that already. 

But the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes that maybe that is the best course of action. Someone has to make the first move. It might as well be Jimin. And it is his birthday; what better day to be daring than on his birthday?

He climbs the stairs up to the balcony. Yoongi glances over at him as he approaches, gaze flickering from head-to-toe, then he looks back at the dance floor. Even that brief look sets Jimin’s veins on fire. He swallows, plopping down next to Yoongi on the couch, thighs pressed against each other. 

“Can I have some?” he asks, raising his brows at Yoongi’s cigarette. It’s nearly done. 

Yoongi puts it between Jimin’s lips. He holds it there while Jimin inhales, his fingers brushing Jimin’s lips, then he removes it. He takes a last puff and stubs it out in the ashtray on the table. Jimin exhales slowly, resting his head on Yoongi’s shoulder. 

“You’re not paying attention to me,” he says, and Yoongi scoffs quietly. “It’s my birthday. You have to pay attention to me.”

Jimin’s noticed that when he’s obvious about wanting Yoongi’s attention, Yoongi’s less likely to give it. And sure enough - “Do I?” he mutters, staring down at the dance floor. 

“Come dance with me.”

“I already told you, I don’t dance.”

“Please,” Jimin insists, then with a surge of bravery that comes out of nowhere, he slings his leg over Yoongi’s waist and settles in his lap. Yoongi sets his whiskey aside, his hands coming to rest on Jimin’s hips, a light touch. “Or you can watch me dance.” He pitches his voice a little lower, the implication of his words clear in the way he holds himself.

“Saw you dancing down there,” Yoongi says, and Jimin’s breath hitches. He can smell the scent of Yoongi’s pre-rut, the muskier undertone to his sandalwood, and it’s making him dizzy. 

“You were watching me?”

Yoongi raises his hand to brush his fingers lightly down Jimin’s cheek. His eyes are lidded as he looks up at him. “You drunk, baby?”

The way he says baby - Jimin licks his lips, curling his hands in the lapels of Yoongi’s blazer. “Do I have to be drunk to want you?”

“That’s usually when you do.”

“Not true,” Jimin says, the hint of a whine in his voice. He leans in just enough so that he can feel Yoongi’s breath tickle his mouth as he hovers over him. In time with the music, he rolls his body from chest to hips, careful that no part of him touches Yoongi but the knees around his hips and the hands on his chest. “I always want you. You’re the one keeping me at arm’s length.”

“Jimin,” Yoongi murmurs, and there’s hesitation in his voice. But the gaze that traces over Jimin’s face is full of want; it’s the kind of look Jimin has been craving from him all night.  “Baby. I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“Why?” Jimin asks. “We’re getting married. That’s forever. Won’t it be better this way?”

Yoongi rests his head on the back of the couch, eyes locked on him. His thumb caresses Jimin’s cheek, presses against his lower lip. He doesn’t say anything.

“Are you scared?” Jimin says gently, and Yoongi’s lips twist into a wry smile. 

“Yeah,” he admits, and Jimin reels from surprise. “Yeah, I’m fucking scared, Jimin-ah.”

Jimin catches Yoongi’s hand on his cheek in his and brings it to his mouth, leaving a soft kiss on his palm. Yoongi’s lashes flutter. 

“You - you’re - ” Yoongi sucks in a breath, trying to find the words. “It’d be so easy to let myself get sucked into you.”

Jimin places Yoongi’s hand back on his hip, and he wraps his arms around Yoongi’s neck. “Let’s dance,” he asks again. “Please, hyung.”

“Alright,” Yoongi finally agrees, and Jimin’s heart soars into his throat. “Let’s dance, baby.”

Jimin slips off his lap and takes his hand, leading him down the stairs to the dance floor. The song that’s playing is exactly the kind of song Jimin wants; he pulls Yoongi into the crowd and presses them together, Yoongi’s chest to his back. He tugs Yoongi’s arms around his waist, and he rolls his hips back against him. He doesn’t want to scare him off, so he starts slow, their bodies rocking together with the beat. Despite Yoongi’s insistence that he doesn’t dance, he isn’t terrible; he responds to Jimin’s body well enough to make it work. 

When the song switches to one that’s more upbeat, Jimin decides to get a bit more daring. He turns around and sees the way Yoongi’s loosened his collar, how there’s sweat collecting in his collarbones. His scent has heightened, heady sandalwood shooting right to Jimin’s cock. 

“Hyung,” Jimin says, breathy and whiny in the way Yoongi likes it, and drops to the floor in a crouch. He drags himself back up against Yoongi’s body, arms wrapping around his neck, and the way Yoongi’s looking at him sends pinpricks of arousal to his skin. 

He rolls their hips together, and Yoongi’s hands slide down from his hips to cup his ass, tugging him in. Jimin’s breath hitches. He licks his lips, nose nearly pressing into Yoongi’s cheek from their proximity as they grind their crotches together. Yoongi’s hips snap into his and he gasps, cock twitching. He’s already starting to get wet. 

Jimin pulls away from him and turns back around. He bends over, grinding his ass back against Yoongi’s crotch in a way that has a few people around them wolf whistling. Jimin can feel Yoongi’s cock through his pants, hard against his ass, and he half expects Yoongi to back off, to say he’s had enough. Instead, the grip around Jimin’s hips tightens, and Yoongi thrusts . His hips snap twice, hard, cock smacking against Jimin’s ass. 

Jimin whimpers in surprise, hears someone cheer, and Yoongi’s hand fists in his hair and drags him back up. Jimin spins around, raising his eyebrows when his gaze meets Yoongi’s, and Yoongi grins. 

“Damn, baby,” he says. “You can move.”

“I didn’t know you had it in you,” Jimin fires back. 

“I don’t,” Yoongi laughs. “You’re bringing it out.”

“Yeah?” Jimin licks his lips, fisting a hand in Yoongi’s collar. “Well, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

He drags him through the crowd, catching a few winks on the way. Hoseok’s on the floor with Jungkook, too, and he gives Jimin a thumbs-up and a lewd gesture. Jimin tugs Yoongi along to a more secluded corner of the dance floor, where it’s dark and everyone else feels distance. He stops when his back hits the wall. Yoongi puts a hand on the wall by his head, and Jimin presses their hips together again. 

“Thought you just wanted to dance,” Yoongi says, cupping Jimin’s thigh in his hand and tugging it up around his waist. 

“This is - this is dancing,” Jimin says, breathless, as he rocks his hips into Yoongi’s in time with the beat. Yoongi’s cock rubs his ass with every move. 

Yoongi holds his leg tight against his waist and snaps his hips to meet Jimin’s, pinning him against the wall. Jimin’s cock rubs against Yoongi’s belly every time he thrusts, and his head falls back onto the wall with a thud, lashes fluttering. 

“Shit,” Yoongi mutters, gritting his teeth, and they aren’t even pretending to dance anymore, just rutting against each other. 

Jimin’s panting, sweat sticking his back to the wall, and Yoongi’s scent is strong and overwhelming, makes him want to drown in it. Yoongi’s panting, too, his open mouth hovering just over Jimin’s, hips snapping desperately together. 

“Please,” Jimin breathes, gazing at him through hooded eyes. His mind feels cloudy with lust. “I know you want me. I’ll - ” He gasps as Yoongi thrusts particularly hard, their lips parting around each other in a kiss that doesn’t happen. “I’ll be so good for you. Let you take me however you want.”

Yoongi growls from somewhere low in his throat and buries his face in Jimin’s throat, soaking up his scent but not quite scenting him. 

“Hyung,” Jimin whines. “Hyung, I want you so - so bad, want you to split me in half with your cock, want to feel you for days - you can fill me up ‘til my belly’s swollen, please, hyung - ”

“Come on.” Yoongi pulls away abruptly, dropping his leg, and drags him along after him. Jimin’s head swims from the sudden change, his cock aching with neglect, and he follows Yoongi on trembling legs. Anticipation swirls in his stomach, his breath coming quick. 

Yoongi leads him down the hall to the bathroom, which is mercifully empty. Jimin’s never been a fan of bathroom quickies, but this is a nice club, so the bathroom is nice, too. Yoongi drags them inside one of the stalls and locks it shut, complying easily when Jimin pushes him down to sit on the lid of the toilet seat. 

Jimin turns around and sits right on Yoongi’s cock, grinding against him with a sigh of relief. He tosses his head back onto Yoongi’s shoulder, and Yoongi’s mouth is on his neck in an instant, sucking a mark right over his scent gland. His hands come to grip Jimin’s thighs, kneading the fat, and Jimin holds onto his wrists for leverage as he rocks against him. 

“Hyung,” he breathes, lashes fluttering, pants damp with slick that leaks through to Yoongi’s. “Hyung, I - ”

He pauses to gasp as Yoongi rolls his hips to meet Jimin’s, littering wet kisses up his neck. As if his scent wasn’t intoxicating enough already, now it’s laced heavily with arousal and mingled with Jimin’s own lavender, something that only stokes his omega. 

“What is it, baby boy?” Yoongi murmurs, leaving a soft, open-mouthed kiss on the curve of Jimin’s cheek. 

Jimin’s almost embarrassed at the way he whines, nuzzling into Yoongi’s touch. “Just, I - I really want you.”

“I know.” His tone is amused, nearly mocking, and Jimin whines again. One of Yoongi’s hands drags up his thigh, an infuriatingly light touch, bypassing his cock to slip up his shirt instead. His fingers trace the dips in Jimin’s abdomen. “You haven’t exactly been subtle.”

“I wasn’t trying to be subtle tonight,” Jimin huffs, but his indignant puff of air is cut off by Yoongi tweaking his nipple. His hips jump as he arches into the touch, breath coming quick and shaky. 

“I’m not talking about tonight.”

Jimin’s cheeks flame red. So Yoongi had already figured it out. “Hyung,” he whines again, and Yoongi laughs quietly. His teeth nip at the junction between Jimin’s shoulder and neck. 

“You think I didn’t notice the way you woke up humping my leg, baby? Think I didn’t notice how much of a needy little slut you are?”

Jimin whimpers, his hips stuttering. It’s true he’d woken up with morning wood and his hips rutting subtly against Yoongi’s, where they’d been tangled together under the sheets. He’d thought Yoongi was asleep, tugging away from immediately in mortification. If he’d known he was going to embarrass himself like that, he never would have snuck into Yoongi’s bed after his nightmare. 

Jimin’s pants are tight and hot, too constricting, and he wants them off, wants to feel Yoongi against his skin. He unbuttons and unzips, tugging them down over his thighs. Yoongi helps, leaning over to get them past his ankles and toss them carelessly away, then pulling Jimin right back against his cock, only the thin material of his underwear between them. Jimin sighs, not quite beyond embarrassment as he realizes exactly how wet his underwear is. He shifts to tug them down, too, but Yoongi stops him, pulling them snugly back over his ass. 

“Leave these on, baby, don’t tempt me.”

“You’re not gonna fuck me?” Jimin complains, sounding exactly like the needy slut Yoongi’s accused him of being, but he can’t help it. He wants him so bad, needs his cock inside him like he needs air, feels like he’s driving himself up a wall with just how much he wants . 

“I’m not gonna fuck you here,” Yoongi says firmly, and Jimin whines, squirming against him. “You gonna argue with your alpha?”

Jimin shakes his head quickly, always eager to please. “No, alpha. Promise.”

“Good boy.” 

Yoongi leaves a kiss over his scent gland for the trouble, the skin stinging slightly from the mark he’d left there earlier. Jimin shudders, and Yoongi’s hands slip back up his shirt, tossing it away, too. He kisses Jimin’s nape, right over his tiny clan tattoo, tongue slipping out to trace his skin. Jimin shifts so he can reach behind himself and unzip Yoongi’s pants. 

“When you get tatted,” Yoongi murmurs, mouth tracing down Jimin’s spine in a way that has goosebumps rising over his spine, “I want it right here. How’s that sound, baby? Big dragon on your pretty back?”

Jimin licks his lips. He reaches into Yoongi’s pants, wrapping a hand around his thick cock, relishing the way Yoongi hisses, his grip tightening on Jimin’s hips. “I’ll look pretty?”

“So pretty, baby. And then everyone will know you’re mine.”

He pulls Yoongi’s cock out of his pants, and Yoongi leaves a trail of kisses down his back that are more tongue than anything, sucking another mark on his spine. “I wanna be yours.”

“I know,” Yoongi says against his skin, dragging his mouth back up. He kisses his shoulder then his cheek, taking Jimin’s chin between his fingers and turning his face so they’re looking at each other. His gaze is hot on Jimin’s skin. “I know you do, little omega.”

“Don’t you want me to be yours?” Jimin says, voice breathy, stroking Yoongi’s cock slowly. 

Yoongi kisses him. It’s a dirty kiss, has Jimin moaning into his mouth, Yoongi’s tongue licking into him as he melts into the kiss. He lets Yoongi take and take until he feels like he’s fit to burst, then Yoongi pulls away and Jimin pants for breath. 

“Gonna mark you up so good,” Yoongi promises. “You’re gonna have my mark on your neck, my tattoo on your back. No other alpha will ever dare to look your way again.”

Jimin shivers, lashes fluttering, hates how desperately he wants to be Yoongi’s. Yoongi lifts him up, bringing him back down onto his cock, and Jimin shifts until his cock is rubbing against him just right. It fits snugly under his hole and balls, and Jimin sighs at the pressure, starts to rock his hips slowly. 

“Want ‘em to know if they look at you, I’ll kill them.”

“Alpha,” Jimin sighs, tensing up when Yoongi starts to thrust against him in tandem with Jimin’s grinding. He wishes his underwear wasn’t a layer between them, that he could feel Yoongi’s cock against his slick hole, but it’s better than before, the cloth thin enough that Jimin can feel the drag of Yoongi’s cock enough to make his hole clench. 

Yoongi wraps one arm around his waist, thumb tracing his skin, and the other turns his face so he can catch him in a messy kiss again, rutting harder against him as their tongues rub together. Jimin moans into his mouth, pleasure coursing through his veins, hips snapping desperately. The lid of the toilet clatters against the bowl underneath them, the sound of their gasping filling the small stall when the kiss breaks. 

Jimin tosses his head back, running a hand through his hair, and feels Yoongi’s mouth against his neck. He sucks hard, working the skin between his teeth, and Jimin whines just as Yoongi’s hand slips down to cup his cock through his underwear. Jimin’s hips jerk, but Yoongi only tugs him in tighter, fucking hard against him. 

“Oh - oh, hyung - ”

“That’s it, baby. Show off those pretty moans for me. Let everyone who walks in here know how good hyung fucks his little slut.”

Jimin whimpers, legs forcing together out of instinct as Yoongi massages his cock in his hand, but Yoongi isn’t having it. He tugs his legs apart, grip unforgiving on the insides of his thighs, spreading them wider than before so his cock can fit even more snugly between Jimin’s cheeks. 

“Hyung - p-please,” he hiccups, overwhelmed, as Yoongi’s hand returns to his cock. “Please, wanna - can I - ”

He can’t find the words, turns his head for a kiss instead, and Yoongi pecks his lips briefly before pulling back. “Open your mouth, baby.”

Jimin does, thinking he’ll give him his fingers, but he doesn’t. His thumb presses into Jimin’s chin, hand cupping his jaw, and he leans in, their noses brushing. His tongue slips out, and Jimin’s ready to meet it with his when Yoongi pulls back, shaking his head. 

“Stay still for hyung, baby.”

Jimin nods, Yoongi’s thrusts slowed to a grind, and waits. Yoongi’s mouth hovers over his, his gaze lidded and fixed on Jimin’s lips. His tongue flicks out, licking briefly into Jimin’s mouth, and Jimin shivers. His does it again, teasing and quick, and Jimin whines. The next time his tongue slips out, he drags it against the roof of Jimin’s mouth until Jimin moans and Yoongi finally kisses him properly, hips picking up the pace again. 

Jimin can tell he’s close by the way his breath grows ragged, feels the way his cock has started to swell. Yoongi’s teeth dig into his shoulder, low growl rumbling in the back of his throat, and he taps Jimin’s hip. 

“Stand up for me, baby.”

Jimin stands, legs wobbly, and Yoongi comes with him, holding him by the hips. He crowds him toward the wall, pressing a hand to the dip of his back until Jimin bends, ass pushed out behind him. Jimin braces his hands against the wall, slick dripping down his thighs, and Yoongi rubs his cock all over his clothed ass. 

“Hyung, please,” Jimin breathes. “Come on me, hyung.”

Yoongi starts to thrust, cock pushing between Jimin’s cheeks and thighs, and Jimin squeezes his thighs together. His hole pulses, aching with the need to be filled, but he breathes in the scent of Yoongi’s peaking arousal and contents himself with the feel of him. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi growls, fingers digging into Jimin’s hips in a way that Jimin’s sure will leave bruises. His hips snap, losing rhythm, and then Jimin feels him shudder against him, hot cum spilling over his back and ass and thighs. Jimin lets out a shuddering breath, rocking back until Yoongi’s done, knot swollen thick. 

“Turn around,” Yoongi orders, and Jimin turns around. He’s tucking himself back into his pants, the bulge of his knot obscene and large enough that he can’t zip shut. Jimin would giggle at the sight, but he’s still too turned on to do anything but think about how much it hurts. 

Then Yoongi drops to his knees, and Jimin’s heart climbs to his throat. His cock twitches, and Yoongi leans in to blow lightly over it. He tugs Jimin’s boxers down, and Jimin shivers as the cool air hits his damp skin. There’s precum collecting on the tip of his cock. Yoongi tugs his boxers down to his ankles, lifting one leg out, leave them tangled around the other. 

“Hyung,” Jimin breathes, and Yoongi settles his thigh on his shoulder before leaning in to lick a stripe over his wet hole. 

Jimin moans loud enough that it’s nearly a cry, hips arching into Yoongi’s face, head hitting the wall behind him. Then Yoongi’s lips start moving in the exact opposite direction of where Jimin wants them - down the inside of his thigh, nipping and sucking, leaving red marks that are sure to bruise. 

“Don’t tease,” Jimin complains, and Yoongi pulls back to look at him.

“You’re impatient?” he asks thoughtfully, leaning in again and sucking another mark on Jimin’s hip. 

“Yes,” Jimin breathes. “I wanna come.”

Yoongi hums in thought, lips tracing infuriatingly slow over Jimin’s pelvis. Jimin shudders, biting his lip to keep back the gasp of relief when Yoongi’s head stops between his legs. He tugs Jimin’s leg more firmly over his shoulder and leaves an open-mouthed kiss over his hole, and this time Jimin can’t hold back the noise he makes. Yoongi pulls back again to look, staring at his clenching hole like he can’t help it, then blows lightly. His lips are already wet with slick. Jimin’s hips twitch. The way Yoongi’s staring so intently at his hole is embarrassing and arousing both. 

“Hyung,” he whines, breathy and lewd, fingers curling in Yoongi’s hair. He draws the word out, his voice almost obscene, and hopes it’ll push Yoongi over the edge. “ Hyung .”

Yoongi snarls, and his breath tickles Jimin’s skin. This time he doesn’t hold back. He flicks his tongue over Jimin’s hole, tiny, tight motions, his nose pressing into Jimin’s perineum. Jimin moans, fingers tightening in his hair, his eyes squeezing shut as Yoongi’s tongue breaches his hole. It flicks around inside him, pushing deeper, Jimin’s hole wet and loose, letting him in eagerly. 

Jimin’s been eaten out by guys who are a little squeamish about the act, all kitten licks and shallow plunges. Yoongi isn’t like that. Jimin can tell right away that he fucking loves eating ass; he isn’t squeamish about it at all. He gets deep and licks hard, the line of his jaw sharp as it stretches, his nose pressed firmly against Jimin’s skin. 

“Oh, fuck, hyung - ”

Yoongi growls again, right into Jimin’s ass, and the vibrations have his eyes rolling back into his head. He moans, arching his hips more firmly onto Yoongi’s face, neck craning back. The pleasure is so intense that Jimin knows he won’t last long, but he’s mad about it, doesn’t want this to end so soon. He could spend all day getting his ass eaten out like this . 

“F-fuck, I’m - hyung, oh my god, oh - ”

The bathroom door opens. 

Jimin almost doesn’t hear it over the sound of Yoongi eating him out and his own incoherent noises. When it registers, he freezes, eyes widening. 

“Hyung,” he hisses.

Yoongi unearths himself, and he’s covered in slick down to his chin. “What?” he says, something wicked in his grin. “Scared?”

Then he dives right back in, and the way he sucks pulls the whine right out of Jimin despite how hard he tries to hold it back. He presses a fist to his mouth and squeezes his eyes shut, but Yoongi’s tongue is so good inside him, and his whines and moans come out anyway. Muffled, but clear enough that whoever’s out there must know what’s going on. 

He can hear running water, then nothing. Yoongi drags his tongue over his hole and Jimin whimpers. He can hear footsteps, now, clacking against the hard floor. They stop right outside the stall. Jimin holds his breath, but that only makes the pleasure intensify. Whoever’s out there doesn’t say anything - Jimin thinks they must be standing there, just listening, and the thought is humiliating and impossibly arousing. His muscles are tensing, and he can’t believe he’s turned on because a stranger is listening to them - 

But he is, and they’re the ones listening. So Jimin drops his fist and lets the next moan come out unhindered. 

The voyeur whistles, long and low, then there’s the sound of retreating footsteps and the door swinging shut again. They’re gone. 

“Oh my god!” Jimin exclaims, and Yoongi pulls back. 

“You liked it,” he says, unbothered, then drops a kiss on Jimin’s thigh and plunges his tongue back inside his hole. 

Jimin cries out, unrestrained, and the tension builds and builds until he can’t hold it off any longer. 

“Hyung,” he warns, then his body convulses and he sobs, dribbling cum all over himself. Yoongi licks him through it, only pulls back when Jimin pushes his head away. “God,” Jimin gasps, chest heaving. “Oh my god.”

“That good, huh?” Yoongi says smugly, and Jimin can’t even be bothered to admonish him. He rests his head against the wall, trying to catch his breath. His whole body feels like jelly. 

Yoongi grabs a wad of toilet paper and cleans all the cum off Jimin, his and Yoongi’s both. When he’s done, he drops a few lingering kisses over Jimin’s leg and sets it down carefully. He tugs Jimin’s underwear and then his pants up for him, struggling a bit to get them past his ass, and leans in to kiss him as he stands. Jimin’s arms wind around his neck right away, holding himself up, legs still wobbly as he kisses back. It’s a lazy kiss, their tongues brushing, the kind of kiss that Jimin distantly thinks he’d like to spend all day with. His fingers curl in the hair at the nape of Yoongi’s neck, tugging lightly, and Yoongi buttons Jimin’s pants before pressing their bodies flush together. 

The spike in Yoongi’s scent is so abrupt that Jimin notices it right away. He gasps into Yoongi’s mouth, hands falling to clutch at his shoulders, a gush of slick leaking from his ass. 

“Shit,” he breathes, nosing against Yoongi’s neck without meaning to. “Hyung, your rut - ”

Yoongi groans into his hair. “I gotta - I should go. Now.”

“Can you get the room early?”

“I’ll figure it out,” Yoongi mutters. Jimin can’t stop nuzzling into his neck, leaving little kisses over his throat. He smells so fucking good. Jimin noses his scent gland and leaks another gush of slick, whimpering quietly. 

Yoongi pulls him up by the jaw, kissing him thoroughly, like he can’t bear to move away from him either. He presses him hard against the wall and Jimin moans, hips canting up to meet his. 

Yoongi displays greater self-restraint than Jimin, breaking the kiss and taking two steps back. Jimin follows, whining, clutching at his shirt as he buries his face in Yoongi’s neck again.

“Baby.” Yoongi huffs a laugh. “You gotta let me go before I fuck you right here on the floor.”

Jimin makes a noise somewhere deep in his throat, lapping up a drop of sweat perched on Yoongi’s collarbone. “Fine by me.”

Yoongi takes his face between his hands, pulling him up to face him. He shakes his head firmly. “I’m not fucking you for the first time on the floor of a club bathroom, Jimin-ah.”

“Does that mean you’re gonna fuck me later?”

Yoongi groans. He rests his forehead against Jimin’s, breath tickling his lips. “I’d like to. But you’re gonna have to let me go, baby.” 

“I don’t wanna,” Jimin huffs. 

“I know,” Yoongi sighs. He runs a hand through Jimin’s hair. “But you know I have to leave before it hits.”

“You’re gonna - you’re gonna come back, right?” Jimin whispers, even though he feels stupid as soon as he asks it. Of course he is. Jimin lives in his home. But still - “It won’t be like last time?”

“I won’t do that again,” Yoongi promises. “I’ll come back and we’ll talk, yeah?”

Jimin nods. Reluctantly, he lets Yoongi go and unlocks the stall. He grabs his shirt and pulls it back on. “Should I walk you out?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “I’ll be fine. Go have fun.”

He leans in, kissing Jimin sweetly one last time before he heads for the bathroom door. “See you soon,” Jimin says. 

“See you soon,” Yoongi agrees. 

He leaves, door swinging shut behind him, and Jimin steps up to the mirrors. He looks like a hot mess, hair like a bird’s nest and red all over his neck, lashes clumped with dry tears and lips swollen. Jimin washes up quickly, trying to make himself look more presentable, before he leaves the bathroom and returns to the main area of the club. Hoseok’s at the bar again with Jungkook, so Jimin beelines over. 

“Hey,” Hoseok says when he’s close enough to be heard. “Jihyun said to tell you he’s heading out for the night.”

Jimin nods, leaning against the counter and calling for a drink. 

Hoseok eyes him critically. “So you gonna tell me what happened, or?”

Jimin flushes. “Take a wild guess, hyung.”

The grin that spreads across Hoseok’s face is anything but sweet.

Jimin leans closer to him, appreciating the way Jungkook shifts a little further, giving them their space without being asked. “He, uh, had to leave. His rut is about to start.”

Hoseok pats his shoulder sympathetically. “I hope he isn’t away too long.”

“I could have helped him through it,” Jimin says moodily, tracing the rim of his glass. “But I don’t think he wanted that.”

Hoseok scoffs, shooting Jimin a look that reveals exactly what he thinks of that. “He’s being responsible, you thirsty bitch. Do you really think you should jump into a rut when you guys hated each other like two months ago?”

Jimin scowls because he knows Hoseok’s right. “Yeah, fine, whatever.”

“Fix your face. Let’s go dance.” Hoseok tugs him toward the crowd, then shoots him a grin. “If you still have energy, that is.”

Jimin huffs. 

Chapter 16

Jimin wakes up feeling feverish. 

His sheets cling to his skin damp with sweat, hair matted to his forehead. He kicks them away, a restless itch under his skin, and grabs his water bottle off the nightstand. The bottle’s empty before he even realizes how fast he’s downing it. Frustrated, he swings his legs off the side of his bed and stands with an unsteady wobble. He doesn’t feel sick, his throat and sinuses fine, but his body aches like he does have a fever.

For some reason, his first instinct is to find Yoongi. He stumbles out of his room only to remember that he’s gone, that he’ll be gone for three days at least. Jimin steps into Yoongi’s room anyway and finds that the lingering scent of sandalwood both satiates him and makes him more restless. He finds himself burrowing into Yoongi’s bed, chasing his scent on the sheets, gulping it in like a drowning man. 

It’s only when he leaks slick that he realizes what’s going on. 

He doesn’t know enough about what heats feel like, having never had one, to differentiate between a pseudo-heat and a real heat. Either way, he’s going through one of them, and he feels like he’s crawling right out of his skin. It must have been Yoongi’s rut that triggered it. He’s lucky it’s a Saturday. Jimin has the presence of mind to fetch his phone from his room before getting back into Yoongi’s bed. Hoseok has never taken suppressants; he’s been through heats for years. 

i think im in heat or maybe a fake heat the doc said id have fake heats what do i do?????

Hoseok’s reply, thankfully, is quick enough. oh baby :( water, vibrator, eat something while you’re still lucid, and a towel. it’s gonna feel like you’re dying, but you’re not dying so don’t freak out. helps if you wear something of an alpha’s!!!

Jimin pouts into Yoongi’s pillow even though there’s no one around to see him. okay love you thanks :(

i’ll check up in a bit ^___^ shoot me a message here and there when u aren’t busy getting off so i know u haven’t drowned in ur own cum or something 

It’s not worth it to tell him he’s gross, Jimin decides, and gets up to find something of Yoongi’s to wear instead. He digs through his closet, feeling a little weird but figuring Yoongi would understand, and finds an oversized t-shirt hanging on a hook that definitely smells like it’s been worn recently. Jimin strips out of his clothes right there, the cool air on his heated skin a relief, and tugs on Yoongi’s t-shirt. He buries his nose into it for a long moment before he returns to his room to fetch what he needs. 

It never really occurs to him that he should stay in his own room. Yoongi’s room makes him feel less feverish, and he doesn’t question it, laying a towel down on Yoongi’s bed and promising himself he’ll wash all his bedding when he’s done.

He lies down on his stomach, hips over the towel, and lubes up his vibrating dildo. Just the sound has his breath hitching, the heat pooling in his belly, his cock hard already where it rests trapped between his belly and the towel. He presses the tip of the dildo against his hole, a full-bodied shudder running through him. He moans, hips jerking, and feels like he’s close to coming already. 

Yoongi must be doing the same thing, somewhere in his rut room, fucking a fleshlight or his fist and moaning into the pillow. Jimin’s both turned on and ashamed as he pushes the toy inside him, whimpering at the stretch, wishing it was Yoongi’s cock instead. He comes embarrassingly fast with the dildo vibrating against his prostate, body convulsing as he sobs into the bed. He sobs a little harder when he realizes his cock isn’t going soft, that it’s hard as ever, that there’s still slick gushing out around the toy.

He leaves it in, clutching the sheets as he squirms and moans, hips rocking against the towel, drool dripping down his chin. The restless itch, the heat under his skin - they won’t abate, and he really does feel like he’s dying. He rocks with an almost frantic pace, desperate for relief. Jimin comes for a second time, clenching hard around the dildo, his moans increasing in pitch. He’s still hard. He wishes Yoongi were here, wishes he were there with Yoongi. 

It’s an impulsive idea, but Jimin’s grabbing the phone before he can think it through. He doesn’t even know if he can think anything through, hazy as his mind has become. His breath hitches when he opens his camera and sees himself - glassy eyes, dried drool and tears on his face, cheeks flushed. The t-shirt’s rucked up around his waist, leaving his ass bare, and the base of the vibrator’s visible if the sound wasn’t obvious enough. 

Jimin bites his lip and hits record. 

Just the thought of Yoongi watching this video later nearly has him coming right there. He flicks the vibrator’s speed up a notch with the remote by his head, his body spasming in reaction, lips parting in a low moan. 

“Hyung,” he gasps, lashes fluttering, his muscles seizing up as the dildo buzzes right against his prostate, relentless. “M-miss you.”

He lets himself go, giving in to the pleasure, eyes rolling back into his head as he tenses from his head to his toes. “Hyung,” he moans, then he’s coming, trembling helplessly, exhausted from the third time. A quiet sob slips from him as he melts into the bed, the incessant heat in his belly finally beginning to ease up. He ends the video and feels his cock finally begin to go soft, the buzz of the vibrator hurting as he grows oversensitive. Turning it off, he tugs it out carefully, wincing, and grows uncomfortably aware of all the slick and cum covering him. 

Heats have periods where they ease, he knows that, so he still isn’t sure if this is a pseudo-heat or a real one. He decides it’s worth the effort to clean up even if it isn’t over, so he sits up gingerly and wipes himself down with the towel before heading to the bathroom. 

When he’s clean, he heads to the kitchen for a snack, feeling drained but knowing he should eat before he lets himself sleep. As he stands by the counter munching on an energy bar, he opens up his chat with Yoongi and attaches the video. For a long moment, he debates whether to send it or not. In the end, he figures he might as well have gone through all that effort for something . 

He sends it, followed quickly by a nsfw!!! you triggered a heat :/  

Then he runs back to Yoongi’s bed and rolls around in embarrassment.

Jimin dozes off, tucked under the covers, and wakes up to no fever and no heat. He feels perfectly fine, if a little sore. It must have been a pseudo-heat after all. If his fake heat was that painful, he wonders what the hell his real heat will be like. Especially considering the doctor had said it’d be even worse than a normal heat. 

But it would be easier with someone else there, Jimin knows that, and after today he can see exactly why. Yoongi’s cock would have eased the pain far better than a vibrator. 

His phone buzzes, and he finds a reply from Yoongi. I came like six times to this . Jimin snorts a surprised laugh. He stares at the message, then he laughs again, relief giving the weight on his shoulders wings. Part of him had been worried he’d overstepped. A bigger part of him had worried that Yoongi didn’t mean it when he said this wouldn’t be like last time. 

He’s going to ask him, Jimin decides. When he’s back, Jimin will ask him if he’ll spend his heat with him. 

❦

Inhye invites him over for tea the next afternoon. Jimin’s lucky that it’s cold enough to cover the hickeys on his neck with a turtleneck and scarf. He isn’t worried about Inhye’s disapproval; he’s more worried about her relief. 

Sure enough, after they’ve made pleasant small talk and the tea has been brought out, the first thing Inhye brings up is Yoongi. 

“I heard he rented a rut room,” she says, and Jimin tries to hide the obvious way he stiffens. He busies himself reaching for a biscuit.

“How did you hear?” 

She waves a hand. “I’m his mother, I know everything.”

What she means to say, Jimin imagines, is that she keeps tabs on him. That’s a strange thing to think about; he wonders if she even trusts her son. He wonders if discovering Jaebum’s betrayal has made her question her own family. 

“The two of you have been living together for some time now,” she says. “Surely you could have spent his rut together?”

Jimin coughs into his teacup. When he’d agreed to marriage, he hadn’t realized that also meant agreeing to invasive conversations with his mother-in-law. “We decided we weren’t ready for that step yet.”

She eyes him critically. “Why not?”

Jimin blinks at her, taken aback by her forwardness. “That’s, uh, personal.”

“I’m just curious. You seem to be getting along well.” She raises an eyebrow, nodding toward his covered neck. He freezes, embarrassment coloring his cheeks pink. So they weren’t as covered up as he’d thought. “Why not bridge the last gap?”

Jimin chooses not to answer, sipping his tea and avoiding her gaze instead. 

“You know your family and mine expect heirs, Jimin-ah,” she says, and he looks up at her again. “We don’t want to wait too long.”

“I understand,” he mumbles. That’s a fight for another time. He doesn’t want children right away, and neither does Yoongi, but their parents don’t have to know that yet. When the months pass with no pregnancy announcement and their families start to get antsy - that’s when they’ll have that particular battle. 

Inhye mercifully changes the subject. “Well, you’ll be glad to know everything with the Im heir has been dealt with.”

Jimin nods. “I’m relieved.”

“He’s agreed to stay well away from all of us, and in return we’ll keep his secret.” She shakes her head with a small scoff. “Stealing money from his own family, can you imagine?”

Jimin smiles ruefully. “Lucky for us.”

“Lucky indeed.”

“Are you going to tell Yoongi hyung?” he ventures. 

“About what?” 

“About Namjoon-ssi. And what Jaebum said.”

Her answer comes quick and sharp. “Of course not. Why would I do that?”

Jimin frowns, refusing to be cowed. “Doesn’t he deserve to know what really happened?”

“If he finds out, he won’t be able to control himself. He needs to keep his head together right now. The wedding is growing closer every day. We can’t afford the kind of fiasco that will happen if Yoongi goes after the Im clan.”

She pauses, as if waiting for Jimin to agree, but she must have perceived the doubt in his face because she continues.

“He doesn’t need to know, Jimin,” she says firmly. “I’m not going to tell him, and I expect that you won’t, either.”

They don’t broach the topic again. 

In the car ride home, Jimin leans his head against the window and wonders what to do. Telling Yoongi will only reopen old wounds, and Inhye’s right; he doesn’t really need to know. Knowing won’t change anything. Knowing will only make him mad, maybe spark a war between the two families that will bring many deaths in its turn. 

But if Jimin were in Yoongi’s position, he would want to know. He would deserve to know. 

There’s no easy answer, and Jimin mulls over it for a long time. 

❦

On the fourth day after Jimin’s birthday, Yoongi comes home. 

Jimin makes it back from morning Jiu Jitsu practice in time to grab a snack and hop in the shower before getting ready for class. When he emerges, dressing quickly, he hears the front door swing shut. It embarrasses him, how excited he gets - his heart flutters, stomach flips, breath quickens. Clutching his jacket to his chest, he peeks out of his bedroom, and sure enough, Yoongi’s walking in. 

As expected, he looks exhausted, and he still smells good enough that Jimin can catch it all the way in his room. 

“Hyung,” Jimin breathes, trying to clamp down on his excitement. 

Yoongi looks up at him and smiles. 

The excitement bursts out of him in spite of himself. He dashes down the stairs, skidding on his socked feet right up to Yoongi, who holds his arms out. Jimin falls into them easily, breathing in Yoongi’s familiar scent. 

“Missed you,” Yoongi admits quietly, kissing the side of Jimin’s head. 

Jimin’s so happy he nearly trembles. “You did?”

“‘Course.” He pulls back to he can cup Jimin’s cheek in his hand. Jimin’s confident that he isn’t imagining the fondness in Yoongi’s eyes. “Everything feels so empty without you around to make fun of me every time I breathe.”

Jimin grins. “I’ll be sure to make up for lost time.”

Yoongi’s thumb traces the curve of Jimin’s cheek, his gaze flickering over Jimin’s face, like he’s looking for something. It seems like maybe he finds it; he closes the distance between them, kissing Jimin sweetly, their noses brushing. 

“You’re evil for sending me that video,” Yoongi murmurs when they break apart, dropping another soft kiss on the corner of Jimin’s mouth. 

Jimin flushes, caught between cheekiness and embarrassment. “Did you like it?” he teases, and Yoongi scoffs. 

“Pretty sure you’re the sole cause of extending my rut 12 hours longer than it usually lasts.”

Jimin swats his arm. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“I’m 100% serious,” he says solemnly. “You going to class, baby? I can drop you off on the way to work.”

“You’re going to work already?” Jimin exclaims. “At least rest until the afternoon.”

Yoongi groans, resting his forehead against Jimin’s. “Can’t. I missed so much work. It’s going to take me ages to catch up.”

“Don’t you want to eat something?”

“I’ll grab something on the way.”

Jimin curls his hand through Yoongi’s hair, humming sympathetically. “Lemme go get my backpack.”

Yoongi lets him go with a hint of reluctance. Jimin returns to his bedroom, packing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder. He fetches his phone from where it’s charging just in time for it to buzz with an incoming text. 

It’s from Jaebum.

Jimin freezes, dread turning his blood cold. His hand starts to shake. It takes him a moment to move, to swipe and open the message. He’s sent him a video. Jimin swallows harshly, then he clicks play. 

Hoseok sits on a plastic chair with tape over his mouth and his hands and feet bound. He’s bleeding, a gash on his forehead and one under his eye, and half of his face is already swelling. His jacket’s ripped. 

Someone comes up behind him, their head cut off by the camera, and tears the tape off his mouth. Hoseok winces, squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Say hello for Jimin-ah,” says the voice behind the camera, one Jimin instantly recognizes as Jaebum’s. 

When Hoseok doesn’t speak right away, the person behind him fists a hand in his hair and yanks his head back. Hoseok cries out in pain. 

“Jimin,” he rasps, and the video ends. 

Jimin’s hand is shaking so hard the phone slips from his grasp, clattering to the ground. He thinks he makes a noise, something raw and harsh, and claps a hand over his mouth. He sinks to the floor, and his whole body is shaking so much he can’t move, can’t do anything but stare at his phone in frozen horror. 

He has to move. He has to do something, consciously he knows this, but his body won’t obey. It’s like it isn’t even his anymore, refuses to do anything but tremble. 

“Jimin-ah?” Yoongi calls, footsteps nearing. “What - oh, Jimin-ah, what happened?”

Jimin has to move. He has to move. It takes all the willpower in the world to lift one hand and push his phone across the floor. Yoongi crouches and snatches it up. He doesn’t bother watching the whole video. He makes it through one second before he’s on his feet and running. 

“Stay here!” he shouts over his shoulder. “Don’t go anywhere, Park Jimin, you hear me?”

Jimin moves. 

He’s up and following Yoongi, panic clouding his vision. “Take me with you, I have to - I have to help - ”

Yoongi spins around at the doorway. He grabs Jimin’s shoulders firmly, and his expression is cold, hard. “You can’t do anything. Do not leave this apartment. I’m sending your guards up. Do you understand, Jimin?”

“Let me help - ”

“Do you understand?” he snaps, and Jimin nods. Yoongi shoves his feet into his shoes and opens the door. “I’ll bring him back,” he promises, then he’s running off through the lobby and to the stairs. 

The door swings shut behind him, and Jimin loses the ability to move again. He stares at the textures of the dark wooden door and notices with acute clarity the way his heart beats: quick and hard, stuttering every now and then, like it hasn’t decided if it needs to race or if it needs to stop. He must have stood there for a long time because then the door’s opening and Wonho and Hyunwoo are there. 

“Jimin-ssi,” Wonho greets, and Hyunwoo remains outside the door, keeping guard, when Wonho closes it. Jimin doesn’t get the chance to answer, not that he could if he tried, because Wonho’s off inspecting the apartment before he can open his mouth. 

Jimin feels useless, helpless like the first time. All that Jiu Jitsu and shooting range practice really were for nothing. He still can’t do anything to help his best friend. Hoseok’s only in this situation because of him, after all, because he had the misfortune of knowing Jimin. And because Jimin was a fool who trusted an alpha with a sharp grin when everyone knows that’s the last thing you should do. 

He has to do something. 

He can’t be helpless again. 

Jaebum had wanted a deal, in the beginning, the end of Jimin and Yoongi’s engagement in exchange for Hoseok’s safety. Maybe Jimin can offer him that deal again. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll listen to reason if Jimin makes him a promise. 

“Wonho-ssi,” he blurts, finding his way to him when Wonho emerges from Yoongi’s office. “You have to take me to them. I can help.”

Wonho shakes his head firmly. “I can’t do that.”

“Please,” he begs. “I can help. It’s my - it’s my fault all this happening, and I can fix it - I have to be there - ”

“If you go there, you’ll only make things worse. Everyone will be distracted trying to protect you. Let them do their jobs.”

“I don’t need to be protected, I’ve been going to Jiu Jitsu - ”

“For four months. The people in that warehouse have been training for decades .”

Jimin runs a hand over his face. He knows Wonho’s right. But that doesn’t mean he can just sit around while Hoseok’s in danger. The last time they met, Jaebum had shown a crueler side of himself. But before that, he’d been kind. Maybe there’s still hope. 

Jimin wanders away from Wonho without answering, chewing at a hangnail, and slips into his room. It’s useless, but he tries calling Jaebum anyway. Naturally, he doesn’t pick up. There are a million warehouses in Seoul. Jimin doesn’t even remember where they’d taken him when he’d been kidnapped. Hoseok could be anywhere. 

The idea strikes him suddenly; he picks up the phone and calls Jungkook. 

“I’m on my way to him now,” Jungkook says as soon as he answers, breathless and panicked, and Jimin’s heart wrenches. Jungkook must be killing himself over this, too. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to him.”

“You’re going to the warehouse? Are you almost there?”

“Not yet. Fucking - it’s in fucking Incheon, the pier, but I’m moving as fast as I can.”

Incheon. 

“Please get him back,” Jimin whispers. 

“I promise,” Jungkook says, and Jimin hangs up. 

It’ll take him an hour to get there. He’s already behind. There’s no way his guards will let him out of this apartment, and he doesn’t put it past them to use force if he tries to sneak out. He goes to his window, peering out at the ridiculously long drop to the ground. Fucking Yoongi and his fucking penthouse. 

He stares for another moment before his brain registers it - there’s a balcony attached to the apartment below them. If he drops out of his window, he’ll land right on the rail, so that won’t do. But from his bathroom window - 

The hope in his heart takes flight.

He has to move fast, and he does, speeding toward the bathroom and shoving his phone in his pocket. Halfway there, he just stops, the urgency immobilizing him. For a moment that feels like an eternity, he stands there, shaking. 

Then he’s moving again, slipping into his bathroom and locking the door behind him. He opens the large window behind his tub and sticks his head out, looking at the balcony below. He’s lucky that it’s empty save for a flower pot in the corner; he won’t have to worry about falling on anything. It isn’t a terribly far drop, but it’s far enough that Jimin’s afraid. 

He swallows harshly, squeezing his eyes shut briefly. Then he balances on the edge of his window and jumps. 

For a second, while he’s in the air, he wonders if he’ll ever make it to the balcony, or if he’ll open his eyes and find that it’s disappeared, that he’s falling into nothing. 

He hits the ground with a thud, rolling to lessen the impact that shudders up his legs. He’s on his feet in a second, banging on the balcony door, praying that whoever lives there is home. If they aren’t, there’s another balcony below him. 

A man comes to the door, eyes wide and mouth open as he peers at Jimin through the glass. 

“Help!” Jimin calls, and in his shock, the man actually opens the door. It isn’t hard to summon the tears to his eyes. “I’m sorry, my alpha’s gonna - gonna hurt me, I have to run, can I just pass through?”

The guy nods, mouth still open, and Jimin shoves past him to bolt through the apartment. 

“Wait,” he calls. “Should I call the cops?”

Jimin’s already running out the door, turning the hall until he reaches the stairwell. The elevator’s notoriously slow, and he knows he’ll be faster just running, so he runs, taking the stairs two at a time. Given the state of traffic, taking the train will be more efficient than calling a taxi. Jimin checks the schedule on his phone as he runs to the station; if he makes it there in eight minutes, he’ll be able to take the next one. 

He runs harder. 

By the time he makes it to the ticket counter, he’s wheezing, clutching his side as sharp pain runs through his abdomen. The woman at the counter eyes him warily but gives him a ticket quickly, and he boards just in time. Collapsing into a seat, he finally lets himself breathe. 

It’ll be a long ride, given the state of his anxiety, but he’ll make it. He may only be a little later than Jungkook and Yoongi. 

As he sits there, head leaning against the cold window, still panting to catch his breath, he realizes he doesn’t have a gun. He’s going to a warehouse full of people with guns, and he’s unarmed. For a second, he considers that maybe this is a terrible idea after all, that maybe Jaebum won’t be kind enough to listen to him before he kills him. 

But then Jimin thinks about Hoseok and the blood on his face and decides he doesn’t care.

He has to try. 

Chapter 17

Finding the warehouse where they’re holding Hoseok is surprisingly easy. There’s only one area near the coast where the warehouses are no longer in use, and once Jimin arrives, the lookout has a gun on him before he can even begin to wonder which warehouse to check first. 

“What do you want?” the man demands, and Jimin stares down the barrel of the gun with dread in the pit of his stomach. He wonders why he never thought to ask Yoongi to get him a gun, just in case. 

“I’m here to see Jaebum,” Jimin says, proud of the way his voice remains steady. “I’m Park Jimin. He’s expecting me.”

The lookout raises an eyebrow. Then he puts his gun down and wraps his hand around Jimin’s arm, grip tight. “Let’s get going, then.”

He’s led to the second warehouse, where two alphas stand guard at the door. The man hands Jimin off to them; he only has to say Jimin’s name for them to understand. They take him by the arms, one on each side, and lead him inside. 

It’s a shitshow. 

Jimin’s eyes find Hoseok first, tied to a chair at the center of the room, head lolling to the side. His eyes are closed. Jimin’s afraid he must be unconscious. Ten feet away from him, Jungkook’s kneeling on the ground with three alphas surrounding him, guns to his head. Jimin starts to tremble, head-to-toe, as he looks around the large warehouse and finds that there are many like Jungkook, restrained, guns to their heads, and that only means that they’re losing. 

“Jimin, what the fuck are you doing - ”

It’s Yoongi. He doesn’t get to finish the rest of his question because one of the women holding him at gunpoint smacks him across the face with her weapon, drawing blood. 

“Jimin,” Jaebum says. He’s standing toward the back, passing a gun between his hands. “So you came, after all.”

“I came to talk to you,” Jimin answers steadily. “I’m sorry I didn’t follow through with our deal. You said - you said you keep your promises. I’ll break off the engagement. Let Hoseok go.”

The words aren’t as easy to say as he’d thought they would be, especially with Yoongi standing right there. Jimin will do anything to ensure Hoseok’s safety, but it hurts, letting go of Yoongi. It’s only then, in the middle of a warehouse with Yoongi bleeding in front of him, that Jimin realizes exactly how badly he doesn’t want to lose him. 

Jaebum stares at him, gaze impassive. He walks closer, shoes clicking against the cement. “It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”

Jimin shakes his head. “I’ll call my parents right here. I swear, I’ll never - ” His breath hitches. He swallows, willing himself to be strong. “I’ll never go near the Min family again. Please, just - just let him go.”

“You should have kept your promise the first time,” Jaebum says. “Instead you went behind my back, tried to blackmail me. Why the hell should I listen to you now?”

“I didn’t go behind your back,” Jimin pleads. “I didn’t do anything. Please, he’s innocent, he doesn’t have anything to do with this. If you want to punish someone, punish me. I’ll do anything you want. Don’t hurt him.”

“Anything I want.” Jaebum comes to a stop not far from Jimin. He tilts his head, looking at Jimin curiously. “Would you marry me if I asked?”

Jimin’s stomach rolls with nausea. His vision blurs. He can hear Yoongi hiss his name, hear the telltale smack of the gun against his face again, but it sounds far away. There’s only him and Jaebum and the weight of the world crashing down on Jimin’s shoulders. 

Jaebum reaches out, running a finger gently down Jimin’s cheek. “I promise I’ll take good care of you.”

“Don’t fucking touch him,” Yoongi spits, and Jimin can hear him struggling against his captors. 

Jaebum closes his eyes briefly, inhaling through his nose. When he opens them, they’re hard. He turns around and walks up to Yoongi, socking him hard in the stomach. Jimin whimpers at the way Yoongi recoils, hissing through his teeth. 

“Shut up,” Jaebum says. “I’m tired of hearing your fucking voice. You think I won’t kill you? You think this is all for show?”

Yoongi looks up, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth. “Fucking try me.”

Jaebum fists his hand in Yoongi’s hair, yanking his head to the side so he can press his gun to the underside of Yoongi’s jaw. The raw fury he’s holding in his body has Jimin trembling. He doesn’t understand what happened for Jaebum to hate Yoongi so much. 

“I’ll shoot you right in the fucking head just like I shot that friend of yours,” Jaebum spits, and the horror shudders through Jimin like a living thing. 

He can see it change Yoongi’s face, too. His jaw goes slack, his eyes lose their tension - first there’s confusion, then understanding, then shock. “What?” he says, and he sounds lost. 

“Didn’t Jimin tell you?” Jaebum croons, pressing the gun a little harder into Yoongi’s neck. The skin around it is turning white from the pressure. “I’m the one who killed Namjoon. And I’m fucking glad I did it. You’re nothing compared to who you were before. Remember all those deals you missed in the months afterward, when you couldn’t drag your sad, sorry ass out of bed?”

“You fucking cunt!” Jungkook shouts, rewarded for his efforts with a baton across his back. 

The shock becomes anger. Yoongi purses his lips, then he spits in Jaebum’s face. The glob lands on his cheek, and Jaebum freezes, teeth gritting. He lets go of Yoongi’s hair, keeping his head pushed back with the gun, and wipes the spit from his face with a look of disgust. He turns to look in Jimin’s direction and nods. 

Jimin should expect it, but he doesn’t; the first blow to his stomach takes him by surprise, followed quickly by one to his face. His teeth dig into his lip when he’s hit, and he can feel blood trickle down his chin. 

“Stop,” Yoongi bites. “Leave him out of this.”

“Leave him out of this?” Jaebum laughs. “He’s the center of this. You just have to fucking steal everything from me, don’t you?”

Recognition dawns on Yoongi’s face. His eyes widen the slightest bit. “This is because of the fucking clinic? You’re doing all this because of the fucking clinic?”

“It was my clinic!” Jaebum shouts, the first real break in composure. His face turns red with anger. “It was mine and you took it from me - ”

“We co-owned, you sick son of a bitch - ”

“My family didn’t trust me with a business for years after that - ”

“You’re fucking incompetent,” Yoongi spits. “Stop making me pay for your incompetence.”

Jaebum socks him in the stomach again, and this time it takes him longer to recover, to raise his head again. Jimin whimpers. 

“I’ll kill you,” Yoongi says, and his voice trembles but the fire in it is strong enough. “I’ll kill you for what you did to him.”

“You’re never going to get the chance.”

“This isn’t a joke,” Jungkook hisses. “You know who we are. You know what’ll happen if you kill us.”

“Do I look like I fucking care?”

“Your stupid vendetta’s gonna get your whole family destroyed. Is that what you want?” Jungkook shouts. “You want to be the reason the Im clan ceases to exist?”

“Shut up.” Jaebum lets Yoongi go, wiping his gun off on his shirt. He turns back to Jimin, eyebrow raised. “So, what’ll it be, Jimin-ah? Marry me, and I’ll let your hyung go.”

For a brief, unbearable second, Jimin closes his eyes. 

Then he opens them.

He never does get the chance to answer. 

An enormous boom comes from the back of the warehouse, and everyone startles, the ground shaking beneath them, Hoseok’s chair wobbling as the back wall begins to collapse. Someone’s driven a bulldozer right through the wall, chunks of metal covering the machine, a cloud of dust surrounding it. Jaebum’s lackeys are just gathering their wits when people begin to spill around the opening made by the bulldozer. 

Jimin spots Wonho and Hyunwoo at the forefront.

The alphas holding Jimin are more experienced fighters than him, and they’re stronger and bigger, too. But they’re caught off guard, and Jimin puts himself together the tiniest bit faster than they do. It’s enough to utilize what Jiu Jitsu moves he knows to twist out of their grips and run. 

He runs for Hoseok, who’s beginning to stir, and falls to his knees beside him. “I’m sorry,” he cries, nearly drowned out in the noise of bullets and shouting. He removes the tape from Hoseok’s mouth first, as gentle as he can. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, hyung, I’m going to get you out of here.”

“Jiminie?” Hoseok slurs, eyes heavy and red. 

Jimin’s untying the bonds around his feet when someone grabs him by the hair and begins to drag him across the ground. He cries out in pain, hands flying to his head and tears springing to his eyes. It feels like his hair’s being ripped right out of his head, pain shooting all the way down to his jaw. He struggles with the grip, but it’s strong, and then there’s a knife at his throat and Jimin’s head is forced back to look up at Jaebum. 

“Guess it’s too late to answer,” Jaebum says, and Jimin prepares for the worst, a sob tearing through his lips. 

“Let him go.” 

It’s Yoongi, holding a gun to Jaebum’s temple. 

“You’ll kill me even if I do,” says Jaebum, and Jimin can see in Yoongi’s eyes that he’s right. 

Jimin struggles, and Jaebum presses the knife harder against his skin, drawing blood with a sting. 

“Get your fucking hands off him,” Yoongi snaps. 

“Kill me,” Jaebum demands. “Do it, then, what are you waiting for?”

And Yoongi - 

Yoongi hesitates. 

Everything after that happens fast, like a blur - there’s the sound of a gunshot among all the others, and Jaebum jolts, gasping for breath. He lets Jimin go, raises his arm, and throws the knife somewhere behind him. Jimin screams Hoseok’s name, and there’s a cry of pain and a thud as Hoseok falls over, chair clattering to the ground. Jaebum falls. 

It’s only after, when Jaebum lies on the ground by his side and Yoongi drops his arm, that Jimin realizes what happened. 

Wonho stands with his arm raised, gun pointed in Jaebum’s direction. He’d shot him, then, when Yoongi hesitated, and around them Jaebum’s lackeys have started to still, unsure of how to proceed now that their boss is dead. Jimin’s crawling toward Hoseok, but there’s no knife, no wound. Realization dawns slowly: there’s a body lying by his side. 

It’s Jungkook. 

“He push - he pushed me - ” Hoseok gasps, and Jimin understands. 

Jimin unties the last of Hoseok’s bonds, and together they crawl to Jungkook, whose breath is coming as a painful rasp. The knife’s embedded in his side. Jimin’s no doctor, but he knows wounds near the stomach are never good. The only good thing is that he isn’t bleeding out, the knife still in his body holding the blood at bay. 

“Jungkook,” Hoseok breathes, cradling his face carefully in his hands. 

“You gotta - gotta get out of here.” Every word sounds like it takes a monumental effort. 

A gunshot is fired into the air, and Yoongi’s shout rings throughout the warehouse. “Enough! Im Jaebum is dead!” 

They’d already started to quiet, but at Yoongi’s ringing announcement, silence falls over the warehouse. Everyone’s waiting with bated breath. 

“Im clan - you have two options. Get the hell out of here, or turn sides. Now’s your chance. Stay and don’t turn, and I’ll line you up by the door and shoot you myself.”

There’s a second of quiet, followed by quiet muttering. Someone tosses her gun down at Yoongi’s feet. Someone else bolts, running right out the warehouse entrance. The rest of them follow, choosing their sides, but no one resists. 

It seems like it’s over. 

Outside, Jimin hears the sirens of an ambulance. They’re loud; he thinks maybe there’s more than one coming, and he reaches out to grasp Jungkook’s limp hand. Jungkook squeezes back; it’s weak, but it’s there, and Jimin wills the panic away. 

There’s a hand on his shoulder. Jimin looks up, and Yoongi crouches to kneel between him and Hoseok. 

“You alright?” he asks them both, and they nod. He turns his attention to Jungkook, the harshness in his gaze softening to something tender. Yoongi runs a hand through Jungkook’s hair. “Hey, kid.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook gasps, lids fluttering as he fights to keep them open. 

“You’re not giving up on me yet, are you?” Yoongi asks, his tone light. “Thought Jeon Jungkook was more of a fighter than that.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook says, again. There’s blood on his tongue. “Sorry a-about Namjoon.”

A strangled noise comes from Yoongi’s mouth. He leans over, pressing his forehead against Jungkook’s. “Worry about yourself, Jungkook-ah.”

“Ambulance,” Jimin mumbles, his voice sounding distant to his own ears. He stands up, taking stock of the warehouse as he passes through to the entrance. There are two people lying prone that he thinks might be dead. Others are wounded; a woman’s been stabbed right in her belly, and she’s holding her entrails inside with her hands. Jimin pauses, bile rising in his throat, before he continues on. 

There are three ambulances outside. A man comes up to him, and he directs him inside, pointing out the woman and Jungkook as the worst of the damage.

“Do you need to be checked?” Another woman asks him. “You’re bleeding.”

Jimin’s hand flies up to his throat; it comes away bloody. “There are other people worse off. I can wait.”

“We’ll come back and get you bandaged up,” she says, moving on to a man who’s been shot in the leg. 

They wheel Jungkook away on a stretcher, and Hoseok follows him into the ambulance. Jimin wants to bid them goodbye, but he can’t will his legs to move in time. He watches them go. There’s still bile in his throat, rising every time he moves too quickly. He swallows it down. 

“Jimin.” 

He looks over at Yoongi, who’s coming toward him, tearing a strip off his shirt. 

“Sit down, baby,” Yoongi says, the gentleness in his tone a sharp contrast to their surroundings. When Jimin doesn’t move, he eases him to the ground, crouching before him. He ties the strip carefully around Jimin’s throat. 

“You’re more hurt than me,” Jimin says, and his throat’s dry, the words hard to get out. 

“Not a competition,” Yoongi says wryly. 

“Get into the next ambulance. You were coughing up blood.”

“I can wait.” His gaze flickers over Jimin’s face, searching. “I told you not to come,” he says quietly. “I told you to wait.”

Jimin nods. It would have been easier if he hadn’t come. He wouldn’t have had to see all this. “If I hadn’t come, Hyunwoo and Wonho wouldn’t have shown up with backup.”

Yoongi nods in return. “They saved us.”

It’s a harrowing thought. Yoongi could be dead right now - Hoseok and Jungkook, too. They could have lost. 

But they didn’t. Jimin holds onto that reality like a lifeline. 

There are more ambulances coming; Jimin can hear them. In a few minutes, paramedics are entering the warehouse, taking more people away. 

“I have to go,” Yoongi says regretfully. “Have to check - the people who switched sides, have to call my family - ”

Jimin nods. “I’ll be right here.”

Yoongi hesitates, then he leans in and kisses Jimin’s forehead. “I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I’m so sorry.”

Then he stands. For the first few steps, he limps, clutching his side. Jimin thinks he might have a few broken ribs. Then he straightens, masking the pain, and walks off to take care of everything else. 

Someone drapes a jacket over his shoulders. Jimin looks up and finds Hyunwoo. Wonho’s at his shoulder. 

Jimin swallows. “Thank you for saving my life,” he says. “And I’m sorry I ran away.”

Wonho and Hyunwoo exchange a glance. “Family’s everything,” Wonho finally says. “We understand.”

❦

Hoseok’s sleeping. 

They’ve bandaged the gash on his forehead and the one on his cheek, taken care of his broken ribs and his concussion. He’s sleeping now, accompanied by the soft beeping of the monitor hooked up to him. Jimin’s sitting on the floor by his bed, head resting near his hand. They’ve bandaged Jimin up, too, checked his vitals, and he’s alright. Nothing hurts much now, though he knows that’s because of the adrenaline. Tomorrow, he’ll wake up feeling like he was hit by a truck. 

Jimin doesn’t really know how to tell Hoseok’s parents what’s happened, so he hasn’t called them yet. He’ll leave the decision up to Hoseok, for when he wakes. The rest of their families are here - Yoongi’s, Jungkook’s, Jimin’s. But they’re busy, running around the hospital checking on their people, making phone calls, solving problems. His grandmother and Jihyun had spent a long moment with him when they arrived, but now they’re busy, too. 

Jimin wants to be useful. But he wants to sit here and reassure himself that Hoseok’s heart is still beating, too. 

Eventually, he forces himself to stand, leaving Hoseok’s hospital room quietly. Jungkook’s still in surgery. They haven’t heard anything from the nurses yet. Jimin turns the corner in the hall and finds Yoongi sitting on the floor outside Jungkook’s empty room. His knees are bent, arms draped over them, head resting back against the wall. 

Jimin lowers himself to sit next to him. They’d tried to fix Yoongi up, too, but he hadn’t let them. He’s still got blood on his face. For what feels like an eternity, Jimin and Yoongi sit in silence. 

Jimin breaks it first. “I’m sorry,” he says, “for not telling you about Namjoon.”

Yoongi’s head lolls to the side so he can look at him. “How did you find out?”

“He asked to talk to me one day when I was coming out of class. Said if I didn’t break off the engagement, he’d kill Hoseok like he killed Namjoon.”

Yoongi’s gaze remains impassive. “Why didn’t you come to me?”

“I went to your mother,” Jimin admits. “I was afraid of how you’d react. I was going to tell you about him, even though she didn’t want me to. I was trying to find the right time.”

“That’s why you cried that night.”

Jimin nods. 

“Next time,” Yoongi murmurs. “Come to me first. I’ll help you.”

“I know,” Jimin whispers. “I wish I’d gone to you.”

“Jaebum was right. I'm nothing compared to who I used to be.” Yoongi’s head lolls back the other way, his eyes drifting shut. “All that and I couldn’t even get revenge in the end. Couldn’t even pull the trigger."

“Why couldn’t you?”

The corner of Yoongi’s mouth lifts up. “Because you were watching me.”

Jimin’s breath hitches. He fiddles with the edge of the sweater his grandmother had brought him to change into, picking at a loose thread. “Do you think - do you think that’s what he would have wanted?” he ventures. “Namjoon-ssi. Do you think he would have wanted you to take revenge?”

Yoongi’s admission comes without hesitation. “That’s the last thing he would have wanted.”

Jimin nods. He’d thought so. “Then he must be glad you didn’t pull the trigger.”

Yoongi’s shoulders tremble. He presses a hand to his mouth, his face scrunching up, eyes filling with tears. When he starts to cry, he can’t stop. The tears stream down his cheeks, body convulsing with every quiet sob. “I wish he’d never met me,” he says, over and over, crying in a way Jimin thinks he must not have let himself cry in a long, long time. “I wish he’d never met me.”

Jimin wraps his arm around Yoongi’s shoulders and pulls him in, letting him bury his face against his neck, feeling the tears wet his skin. He holds Yoongi tight while he cries, wishing there was something he could say but knowing that sometimes there’s nothing you can do but just be there. 

When he pulls away, it feels like it’s been forever. “Sorry,” he mutters, voice raw, and dashes roughly at his eyes. Jimin pulls his hands away, dabbing at his cheeks carefully with the edge of his sleeve. 

“You don’t have to be sorry. You’re allowed to be sad.”

Yoongi stares at him, and he looks tired, like every word Jimin says - no matter how gentle - scrapes over raw flesh. “Everyone keeps telling me I should be over it by now.”

“You lost your best friend,” Jimin says softly. “You’re never going to get over that. You have to learn how to cope, yeah, but you’re allowed to be sad.”

“Should have been listening to you all this time,” Yoongi murmurs, fond twist to his mouth. 

“Excuse me, Yoongi-ssi?” A nurse stops before them, and they stand to meet her. They’re in one of the Min family hospitals, so everyone seems to know who Yoongi is already. “Jungkook-ssi’s out of surgery. He’s in the recovery room.”

“How is he?”

She smiles gently. “He’s doing just fine. He’s stable and the surgery went better than we could have hoped for.”

Jimin slumps against the wall, and Yoongi runs a hand over his face. “Thank you,” he says. “Lemme go find his mothers.”

Yoongi squeezes Jimin’s elbow before heading off down the hallway. Jimin follows, returning to Hoseok’s room, where he takes his place by his bed again. “He’s okay,” Jimin whispers, brushing a lock of hair from Hoseok’s forehead. “Jungkook’s going to be fine.”

Hoseok remains sleeping, but Jimin fancies he can see his lids flutter. 

❦

They discharge Hoseok that night, but he decides to wait with Jimin and Yoongi until they let Jungkook go. None of them talk that night, and none of them sleep, either. Despite knowing Jungkook’s out of the danger zone, the anxiety doesn’t leave any of them easily. Jimin spends the night curled on a bench next to Hoseok, Hyunwoo’s jacket thrown over their laps, and Yoongi spends it pacing. 

In the morning, they run some more tests and tell Jungkook he’s free to go home. His mothers want him and Hoseok to come stay with them until he’s better, and Jimin and Yoongi see them off at the door. Then Jimin turns around and forces Yoongi to go back inside and finally let the doctors take care of him. 

It turns out he has two broken ribs and a fractured wrist. They patch him up and send him away, and Yoongi and Jimin finally go home. They’re driven by Hyunwoo and Wonho, who are thankfully uninjured save for a few bruises. 

Something about seeing Haru run up to them with her little tail straight in the air, meowing happily, makes Jimin want to sit down and cry. He doesn’t. He checks on her food and Yoongi checks her litter and then, without having to discuss it, they go to Yoongi’s room together. Haru follow them in, settling on the bed at their feet, curled into a tiny ball. 

Yoongi lies down gingerly, and Jimin’s afraid to curl up to him lest he hurt him, even though that’s all he wants to do. Yoongi pulls him in anyway, letting him rest his head on his shoulder. 

Jimin tries to sleep, but he can’t. Every time he closes his eyes, the scene at the warehouse plays vividly through his brain: snapshots and videos. Jaebum falling, Hoseok in that chair, Jungkook lying on the ground, the woman with her guts spilling out. He’s starting to feel the physical effects now, too, the tender ache in his scalp, his sore abdomen and face, the sting in his neck. Jaebum’s dead, so Jimin’s safe, but he doesn’t feel safe. He feels scared. And he feels a little sad, too, that Jaebum’s dead, even though he was horrible and he’d nearly killed Jimin first. 

“You asleep?” Yoongi murmurs, lips moving against Jimin’s hair. 

“Can’t.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s going to happen now?” Jimin mumbles, hand clenching a fistful of Yoongi’s shirt. “His family’s going to be mad, aren’t they?”

“I talked to everyone about it at the hospital,” Yoongi answers. “Turns out he’d spun some sort of story to convince his family that he hadn’t been washing money for a Chinese gang. That way he could retaliate against us without worrying about us telling them the secret.”

“Oh. That doesn’t sound good.”

“He didn’t do a very good job,” Yoongi says wryly. “We have proof. My mother already sent the information their way.”

“So they won’t care that you killed him?”

“They’ll care. They just can’t do anything about it. They would have killed him themselves if they’d known; they’re just mad someone else did it for them.”

“What if they try to get back at you?”

“They won’t. Not yet, anyway.”

Jimin frowns, fiddling with Yoongi’s shirt. It eases some of his tension but not enough. Just because things are alright now, doesn’t mean they will be forever. Somewhere down the line, the Im clan will become a problem again. 

“I’m sorry you had to go through this,” Yoongi says quietly. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

Jimin shakes his head. “It’s not your fault. Not really.”

“It is my fault. He went after you because of me. Just like he went after Namjoon.”

“It’s his fault,” Jimin insists. “It’s his fault for being horrible. You can’t bear responsibility for everything.”

Yoongi doesn’t answer, but Jimin can smell his scent spiking with frustration. He runs a hand gently over Yoongi’s stomach. 

“What did he mean when he was talking about the clinic?” Jimin asks. 

Yoongi lets out a sigh that sounds a little choked. “Our families used to do business together, years ago, before things got bad between us. He was in charge of a medical clinic his family used as a cover-up to sell drugs. But he wasn’t good at it, didn’t know how to handle the staff, so his father asked me to run it alongside him.”

“Why did he ask you?”

Yoongi shrugs one shoulder. “I was running a few clinics for my family at the time, and I was good at it. He wanted me to be a mentor, maybe, thought I’d help Jaebum improve.”

“I’m guessing he didn’t.”

“He didn’t. He kept making things worse. To punish him, his father signed the clinic over to me.” 

“Oh,” Jimin breathes. “Damn.”

“I knew he was pissed, of course I did. I would have been pissed, too. Things weren’t the same between us after that, and then when Namjoon - ” Yoongi falters. “I guess I just never realized exactly how much he hated me.”

“That’s fucked.” Jimin’s fist tightens in Yoongi’s shirt. “He’s - he was fucked.”

Yoongi threads his fingers through Jimin’s hair, the movement gentle to avoid irritating his scalp further. They’re quiet for a moment, only the sound of their breathing filling the air around them. 

“Would you have said yes?” Yoongi’s voice is quiet, tentative, like he’s afraid to ask. “Would you have said yes to save Hoseok?”

Jimin knows immediately what he means. He squeezes his eyes shut, and Jaebum’s voice bounces off the walls of his brain. So what’ll it be, Jimin-ah? “I don’t know,” Jimin whispers. “I think - I think I would have. I think I almost did.”

In the moment, only the thought of saving Hoseok would have really mattered. The reality of a lifetime married to an evil man wouldn’t have sunk in until it was too late. Yes, he decides, he would have said yes. He knows he would have. 

He can feel Yoongi nod, cheek brushing his head. “I thought you were going to.”

“Would you have understood?”

“Of course.” Yoongi’s answer is quick and genuine. Jimin can tell he means it, that he isn’t just saying it. “Would have fought through hell and back to get you out of it, though.”

Jimin smiles, the barest curl of his lips. “I would hope so.”

“When you - when you came in, and you said you’d break the engagement off if he let Hoseok go - ” Yoongi hesitates, perhaps finding the right words. “I think I finally realized exactly how badly I don’t want to lose you.”

Jimin tilts his head up to look at him, and he gazes back down, brows furrowed. There’s a lock of hair falling over his eye. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I know why you did it. But I just, uh - it hit me. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“Does it scare you?”

“Yes,” he admits. “But I think, after everything that just happened, I realized I don’t care anymore. I want you in my life. And I’m damn lucky that you’re still here after everything.”

Jimin reaches up, stroking his thumb along Yoongi’s cheek, careful to avoid the bruise that has begun to darken there. “I’m here to stay, Yoongi hyung. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you all along.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted out. I’d understand.”

“Too late for that,” Jimin says wryly. “I don’t want to lose you, either.”

Yoongi leans in to press a kiss against his forehead. It’s a kiss that lingers, one that startles Jimin’s heart into beating faster. “Thank you for trying so hard, even though I don’t deserve it.”

“You deserve to let yourself be happy,” Jimin tells him. “I don’t want to presume, but I think - I think Namjoon-ssi would want you to be happy, wouldn’t he?”

Yoongi smiles. It’s soft and a little sad. “Yeah,” he says. “He would.”

Notes:

i would like to formally apologize to im jaebum for the contents of this chapter jkshdf

Chapter 18

Life, as it tends to do, goes on. 

Yoongi and Jimin have trouble going with it. 

Hoseok’s so busy looking after Jungkook and recovering himself that Jimin doesn’t get the chance to talk to him, to apologize, and then he announces that he’s leaving. He’s taking off from work so he can stay with his grandparents in Gwangju; his body’s healing, but his mind isn’t, he says. Before he leaves, he very gently tells Jimin that he probably won’t answer any calls or texts, that he wants to cut himself off for a while. That hurts, but Jimin understands. Mostly, he feels guilty. 

Hoseok’s absence hurts Jungkook, too, though Jimin can tell he tries not to show it. He, like Jimin, understands why Hoseok needed to go. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. They don’t talk about it, but Jimin can feel it in the air between them every time Jimin goes to visit. He makes an effort to meet Jungkook more. He feels a strengthened camaraderie with him after everything that’s happened and through their love for Hoseok. 

Yoongi keeps missing work, something Jimin had once thought he’d never do. He doesn’t spend the time in his office, either - he wanders around like a ghost, empty and hollow, and sometimes he doesn’t realize Jimin’s there even when Jimin calls his name. But Jimin gets it, because he’s missing class, too, can’t bring himself to focus on anything. He still can’t sleep; neither of them can. 

But the sleepless nights mean they talk to keep their thoughts at bay. They talk about everything and anything, and in the days that follow the incident, Jimin finds a comfort in Yoongi that grows until it’s everything. 

One night, well past midnight while they lie in Jimin’s nest with the curtains drawn to let in the moonlight, Yoongi shows Jimin a video of Namjoon. 

They’re riding bikes by the river, Yoongi filming from his phone. Namjoon’s a little bit ahead of him, humming happily. He turns around, flashing his dimples, and he’s bright and beautiful and Jimin’s breath catches. 

“Hyung, are you filming?” he laughs. He has a nice voice, deep and soothing. Something about him feels calm and steady. “You never film anything.”

“I’m waiting to catch the inevitable moment when you hit something and faceplant,” comes Yoongi’s dry voice, crackling behind the camera. Jimin snorts. 

Namjoon just laughs again. “You’re gonna faceplant first, holding your phone like that.”

The video ends shortly after that, leaving silence in its wake. Jimin feels like crying. He can’t imagine what Yoongi feels like. He should say something, tell Yoongi how wonderful he thinks Namjoon is even though he’ll never get to meet him, but somehow he can’t find the words. 

“I did fall,” Yoongi admits, and Jimin gives him a watery laugh. “He would have really liked you. The two of you would have gotten along better than we did.”

“I think I would have really liked him, too.”

“I was wondering - ” Yoongi hesitates. “I, uh, wanted to go visit his memorial. And I was wondering if you’d come with me.”

Jimin turns to look at him, surprise melting into his features. “Really? You want me to come?”

Yoongi nods. 

“I would love to. I’m - I’m honored that you’d ask.”

They go the following day, given that they aren’t doing much else with their time. Jimin’s a little nervous, irrationally so, but even though it’s just his memorial, Jimin feels like he’s meeting Namjoon for real. It feels important, overwhelming, that Yoongi wants him there. 

The columbarium is busy, visitors walking through the aisles, and Jimin follows Yoongi to the wall where Namjoon’s name is. There’s a small picture of him on the plaque; his hair’s blond, and he’s smiling. He looks a little older than in the video Yoongi showed him. Jimin’s clutching a wreath of flowers to his chest that he’d bought from a cart outside the columbarium. He lets Yoongi pay his respects first. 

Yoongi presses his forehead to Namjoon’s plaque and tells him he’s sorry. He doesn’t cry, but he stands like that for a long time, and he doesn’t say anything else. When he’s done, he moves away, and Jimin steps forward. Bowing long and low, Jimin hangs the wreath carefully over his plaque. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Namjoon-ssi,” Jimin says quietly. “My name’s Jimin. Yoongi hyung and I are getting married in the spring.”

Jimin falters, taking in Namjoon’s picture and thinking about a man he didn’t know and never will know who has somehow made himself a place in his life. A man with a pretty smile and a pleasant laugh whose life was snuffed out too soon in a way that might have happened to Jimin himself, or to Hoseok, or to Jungkook or Jihyun or Yoongi or anyone Jimin has ever loved. 

“I hope I can come visit you again,” Jimin finishes. He reaches his hand out, and Yoongi takes it, threading their fingers together. 

“I think we have to return to life,” Yoongi tells him as they walk out of the columbarium. “Can’t keep moping around the house all day.”

Jimin sighs. “Yeah. Drop me off at school on your way to work tomorrow?”

“We’ll have dinner together.”

“Dinner,” Jimin agrees. They stop at the car, and Yoongi lets go of Jimin’s hand. “Hyung,” Jimin says, and he pauses. “Thank you for taking me with you.”

Yoongi nods, the hint of a smile hovering at the corners of his mouth.  

❦

Yoongi cooking dinner brings a sense of normalcy to their lives that has been missing since the warehouse. Jimin insists on helping, afraid Yoongi will just strain his healing body after a day of no rest, but Yoongi keeps shoving him out of the way until eventually Jimin just perches on the countertop to watch. Haru’s sitting on the floor below him, which is an improvement for her, too. She’d nearly made Yoongi trip three times already. 

He hums while he cooks, and his expression is markedly more relaxed than is has been. Jimin feels a surge of fondness in his chest as he watches him. 

“How spicy?” Yoongi asks.

“The spicier the better.”

Yoongi shoots him a look but dumps an appropriate amount of gochujang into the pot. He winces when he stirs it in, the movement probably irritating his ribs. His fractured wrist has been hanging uselessly at his side since he started; he’s been doing everything one-handed. 

“You’re a stubborn ass, you know that?” 

Yoongi glances at him over his shoulder, lips twitching. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jimin huffs. “Have you ever let anyone help you in your life?”

“Have you?” Yoongi fires back. 

“I ask for help all the time.”

Yoongi sets the spoon down, leaving the stew to cook, and comes to stand before Jimin. He stops with his hips at Jimin’s knees, humming in thought. “Well,” he decides. “You’re pretty vocal in bed, so maybe you do ask for help sometimes.”

“Hey!” Jimin swats at his shoulder, flushing pink. 

Yoongi catches his wrist and brings it to his lips. The kiss he drops there is soft but it burns, sending fire through Jimin’s veins. Breath hitching, Jimin parts his knees, letting Yoongi scoot closer until he’s bracketing his hips. Yoongi lets Jimin’s hand go, resting his own on Jimin’s waist instead. 

“Hyung,” Jimin breathes, and then Yoongi’s kissing him. 

He tugs Jimin’s lower lip between his own, sucking lightly, then pulls back and kisses it again. Jimin’s lips part, itching for a taste, and Yoongi licks into his mouth in a way that’s designed to tease - just when Jimin’s getting worked up, he pulls back, sucking on his lip again, and then he slips his tongue back in to tease. The third time he does it, Jimin whines, fisting his hands in Yoongi’s shirt and tugging him in so he can kiss him properly. Yoongi laughs into Jimin’s mouth, but he kisses him until Jimin’s head spins. 

They break apart to breathe, chests heaving, and Yoongi leaves soft kisses along Jimin’s jaw, his hand stroking up and down his side.

“Hyung,” Jimin says, breathless, tilting his head to the side so Yoongi’s lips can travel easily down his neck, “What are we?”

Yoongi pulls back to look at him in amusement. “Engaged,” he answers, then promptly returns to kissing his neck. 

Jimin nudges him with his knee in exasperation. “You know what I mean.”

Yoongi kisses his mouth one last time before shifting so they’re looking at each other. “Tell me what you mean, baby.”

“Things have been so up and down between us. I just - I just wanna know where we stand? What this is?” It’s difficult to articulate, and he finds himself phrasing his words more like a question. 

“We have been doing things backwards,” Yoongi agrees.

“Backwards and forwards and sideways.”

Yoongi swoops in to kiss him again, almost like he can’t help it. He kisses him twice in quick succession, and when he pulls back, he’s smiling. “I like you a lot, Park Jimin.”

Jimin’s sure he blushes all the way to his ears. “I like you a lot, too, Min Yoongi,” he says shyly, and Yoongi takes Jimin’s hand in his good one and threads their fingers together. 

“Ah, shit,” he says suddenly, face scrunching, and Jimin startles.

“What?”

“I never gave you your birthday present.”

Jimin relaxes, laughing a little. “You scared me.”

“How about this,” Yoongi starts. “I know we’re doing things backwards, but will you go on a date with me, Jimin-ah?”

Jimin smooths his hands down Yoongi’s collar, smiling sweetly. “Just so you know, I don’t put out on the first date.”

Yoongi snorts a laugh, squeezing his hand. “Noted. How’s one o’clock sound, this Saturday?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“I’ll take you to your present afterward, too.”

Jimin frowns, wondering what sort of present this is, but he decides to hold his curiosity inside. “You better check on dinner, Min Yoongi-ssi.”

Yoongi tugs away from him abruptly, muttering a curse under his breath as he returns to the stove. Jimin giggles. “Well. It’s a little burnt, but we can skim from the top.”

“Good enough for me.”

❦

It feels almost silly to anticipate the date as much as Jimin does. He and Yoongi wake up together, sleep together, eat dinner together - lunch at a restaurant shouldn’t be anything new, but it is, and Jimin’s excited and a little nervous. When Saturday comes, he spends nearly the entire morning getting ready, cycling through outfit after outfit until he settles on one. Which is ridiculous, too, because Yoongi sees him lounging around in sweats every evening and his date outfit shouldn’t matter, except that it does. 

He spends an equally ridiculous amount of time doing his hair and a hint of subtle makeup, choosing his dangly earrings carefully and covering his fingers with rings. When he’s still in the middle of picking a necklace, Yoongi knocks on his bedroom door. 

Jimin flounders, nearly dropping his necklace into the sink, and looks at the time. It’s one o’clock exactly. “I’m not ready!” he calls. 

“You gonna leave me hanging on your doorstep?” Yoongi calls back, amused. 

“Yes!”

Jimin rushes through the rest of his accessorizing, then he pats his hair down one last time and flies to open his door. Yoongi’s standing there with a bouquet of flowers, looking rather standoffish. Jimin knows him well enough by now to know that means he’s just nervous. For a long moment, Yoongi stares at Jimin, and Jimin stares at Yoongi. Jimin doesn’t miss the way his gaze flickers down his body, and he preens under the attention. Yoongi looks good, too, leather jacket and cuffed jeans, sleek boots and hair parted over his forehead. 

“Here,” Yoongi blurts, shoving the bouquet at his chest. Jimin takes it happily, beaming as it crinkles under his hands. He presses his nose to the flowers and breathes them in. 

“Thank you. Lemme get a vase!”

Jimin flies past Yoongi, socks skidding on the smooth floor as he dashes to the kitchen to find a vase. He cuts the stems and fills it with water, arranging them neatly before dashing back. Yoongi catches him around the waist with his good hand before he can step back into his room, tugging him in until they’re flush against each other with Jimin holding the vase at bay. 

“You look beautiful.” Yoongi’s gaze flickers over Jimin’s face, heated like a touch. Jimin swallows, his own gaze dropping to Yoongi’s pretty pink mouth. “What’s the verdict on kissing on the first date?”

Jimin hums as if in thought, leaning further into Yoongi’s space. When Yoongi’s hovering over his mouth, looking like he’s going to just kiss him if he takes too long to answer, Jimin tugs away. “No kissing on the first date,” Jimin says, casting a coy glance over his shoulder as he enters his room to place the vase on his windowsill. 

Yoongi groans, following him in. “You’re telling me you’ve never kissed someone on the first date? I don’t believe you.”

“My past date experience is none of your business, actually.” Jimin fixes the placement of a few flowers before stepping back to take them in. They look beautiful, glowing in the sunlight. 

He can feel the heat of Yoongi’s body behind him, so he doesn’t jump when Yoongi’s arm twines around his waist. “Don’t believe you when you say you don’t put out on the first date, either.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jimin exclaims, craning to look at him, but Yoongi nudges him back forward. His nose brushes lightly along the side of Jimin’s neck. 

“It means I’ve seen you at the club, baby.”

Jimin spins around in his hold, shoving lightly at him until he takes a step back. “Are we going on this date or not?”

Yoongi grins. “We’re going, we’re going.”

He threads their fingers together, and they head out. It’s rather embarrassing having Jimin’s bodyguards accompany them on their date, and Jimin wonders if maybe now that Jaebum is dead, he won’t need them around as much anymore. 

But part of him knows it won’t be that easy. Jaebum’s family has so far accepted the justification for his murder, but on the inside they’ll be seething. And if it isn’t the Im clan, it’ll be someone else. There’s always someone. 

Yoongi takes him to a restaurant for lunch, and Jimin’s pleasantly surprised to find that it isn’t anything fancy, just a regular restaurant that he might have gone to with Hoseok. They do get a private room, though, with Hyunwoo and Wonho hanging around outside. 

“This place is really good,” Yoongi promises. “You’ll like it.”

“Do you come here a lot?”

“I did when I was younger,” he shrugs. “Not so much anymore.”

“Then we’ll come more often,” Jimin decides, just as the door opens and the waitress enters with their food. 

She sets the side dishes and plates of meat on the table, starting up the grill and setting down the tongs. Yoongi takes over and begins to cook the meat. Jimin watches him with his chin in his hand, then he decides he’s too far away and scoots around the table to sit right next to him instead. 

Yoongi shoots him a sideways glance, but Jimin curls against him unashamedly and helps himself to the side dishes. 

“We have to go for another fitting,” Jimin tells him. “For our wedding clothes.”

Yoongi groans. “I know. I heard.”

“No offense, but I’m ready for this wedding shit to be over.”

“You think I don’t feel the same?” Yoongi drops some meat onto Jimin’s plate, and Jimin makes himself a lettuce wrap.

“I won’t deny that the idea of a big, fancy wedding isn’t kind of cool, but I think it’d be nicer if it were small,” Jimin admits. “Just us and Hoseok and Jungkookie and Jihyun. Maybe our parents, I guess.”

“I guess,” Yoongi mutters. He gives Jimin more meat, and Jimin makes Yoongi a lettuce wrap. He holds it out, and Yoongi looks a little embarrassed but eats from his hand anyway. “Is that something you would want?”

“Hmm?” Jimin reaches over Yoongi to snag some radishes. 

“A small wedding for friends.”

Jimin frowns. “I mean, yeah, but we can’t really do that.”

“We could do something.” Yoongi shrugs. “We could have something small before or after the big one.”

Jimin glances at him, surprised. “Yeah?”

“I want our wedding to be something that makes you happy. And I know up until now it’s just been a stressor.”

“That’s really sweet, hyung,” Jimin murmurs, gazing fondly at his profile. “I’d like that.”

Yoongi nods. “Then we’ll do it.”

He takes a break from grilling, and they eat in quiet contentment, murmuring every now and then as they share food and bump into each other. It’s nice, because even though it’s their first date there’s no first date awkwardness. They know each other well enough already, and the familiarity is a gentle comfort. 

“I wanted to ask you something,” Jimin says, unable to hide the nervous tint to his voice. 

“All ears.”

“Could we - um.” He pauses, blush creeping up his neck. Yoongi shoots him an amused glance. 

“You gonna ask, or do I have to guess?”

“Will you, um, spend my heat with me?” 

He stares at his bowl of rice while he waits for Yoongi to answer, ears hot. He can feel Yoongi’s gaze burn. 

“You sure?” Yoongi finally says. “You really want that?”

Jimin dares to look at him, and he looks surprised, maybe a bit fond. “Only if it’s okay with you.”

“Yeah. Yeah, baby, I wanna take care of you.”

Jimin’s flush deepens. “Okay. But no kids, so I’m gonna get some birth control.” He’d snagged a pamphlet on a milder form of birth control while he was at the doctor’s office, one that won’t suppress his heats like his old suppressants. 

“I figured,” Yoongi says wryly. He nudges Jimin lightly. “Thanks for asking me.”

The waitress knocks and enters, checking if they need anything else. They ask for some beer, and she returns with it a moment later. 

“Do you - should we mate?” Yoongi asks tentatively. “When you have your next heat? We’ll have to do it before the wedding, anyway.”

The thought of mating, of permanently binding himself to Yoongi, makes his stomach swirl both with anticipation and nerves. It’s scary, promising forever. But he wants to do it. He nods. “Yeah. I think that sounds good.”

“I didn’t - ” Yoongi hesitates, searching for the words. “I didn’t grow up with a lot of love. You’ve seen my family - you know how it is.”

Jimin nods, encouraging him to continue.

“Everything was always about being impervious to weakness, concealing it if you couldn’t. I never expected to have a real relationship, not like this. Thought me and my future spouse would be like business partners.” He shrugs, taking a swig of his beer. He’s avoiding Jimin’s gaze while he speaks “And on top of that, being raised by two alphas, no siblings, I didn’t know jack shit about omegas until I met Namjoon. He definitely, uh, knocked me down a peg or two.”

Jimin grins. “Good for him.”

Yoongi clears his throat. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m not really good at this sort of thing, and I don’t have experience with it, but I’m going to try my best. But I need you to tell me when I’m not doing things right. I don’t - I’m not good at guessing. And I don’t want to hurt you.”

Jimin leans into his side, resting his head on his shoulder. Yoongi’s arm comes to wind around his waist. “We’re a work in progress,” Jimin says. “There’ll be lots of room to grow.”

When they’re done eating, they head out to Yoongi’s secret birthday present location. It isn’t far, and it isn’t terribly cold out today, so they decide to walk. Jimin’s burning with curiosity the entire way, wheedling Yoongi in the hopes that he’ll drop a hint or two. 

“You’re literally ten minutes from finding out,” Yoongi complains. “What do you need a hint for?”

They end up at a wide, one-story building with no distinguishing signs or features. Jimin’s practically vibrating with anticipation as Yoongi punches the code in by a back door. “5321,” Yoongi tells him. “Don’t forget.”

The entrance to the building is a large, open space with plenty of empty brick wall. Jimin frowns, trailing after Yoongi down a hallway lined with doors. He peers at them as they pass, realizing that most of them are workspaces, and some have the logos of business hanging on the doors and windows. They pass through a tiny kitchen in the middle of the building, coffee mugs sitting upside down by the sink, and down another hallway. 

Yoongi finally stops them at a door, removing a key from his pocket and unlocking it. He opens it to a large, high-ceilinged room with bare floors and wooden beams. There are work tables and tools and shelves lining the walls, and Jimin hovers in the doorway, his excitement replaced with a surreal sort of wonder. 

“It’s yours,” Yoongi clarifies, and Jimin tears his gaze away from the studio to look at him.

“Mine?” His voice shakes the slightest bit.

“It actually was a sculpture studio,” he explains, “but the artist who worked here moved elsewhere. She left some of her tools and materials in here when I told her you would be using it for sculpture, too.”

“Oh,” is all Jimin manages to stay, taking a few tentative steps into the studio. 

“It’s rented, so if you ever want to move somewhere else, it’ll be easy. You aren’t, uh, stuck with it.”

“It doesn’t count as a birthday present if you have to pay for it every month, Min Yoongi,” Jimin says distantly, running his hand over a shelf full of scrap material. He turns back to face Yoongi, who’s standing awkwardly just inside the door. 

“Do you like it?” he asks, sounding nervous, and Jimin laughs incredulously. 

“I don’t even know what to say, I’m - ” He shakes his head in wonder. 

Yoongi holds the key out, dangling from his fingers. “Well, happy late birthday.”

Jimin surges forward in a burst of life, flings his arms around Yoongi’s neck, and kisses him until they’re both breathless. 

❦

Hoseok comes back on a Sunday, and he’s already in the lobby of Jimin and Yoongi’s building when he calls. 

“Hey, are you home?” he asks, voice quiet and tentative, and Jimin nearly falls off the couch. 

“I’m home,” he says, trying not to sound as excited as he feels. “Are you home?”

“I’m, uh, downstairs? Can I come up?”

Jimin’s shooting for the door before he can even properly answer. 

Hoseok and Jimin have never gone longer than a day or two without talking; his trip to Gwangju has felt like an eternity, especially given the circumstances. When Jimin sees Hoseok waiting by the front desk, it feels like a lifetime has passed since the day they said goodbye at the hospital. 

He still isn’t quite sure where they stand, so he refrains from jumping Hoseok like he wants to. “Hey, hyung,” he breathes, and only falls into his arms when Hoseok holds them out. 

They scent each other for a long moment, the tension of their time apart easing with the comfort of familiarity. 

“Are you going to invite me up, or are we going to stand here all day?” Hoseok teases when they break apart, and Jimin threads their fingers together and leads him to the elevator. 

“How was your trip? How are you feeling?” Jimin reaches up to brush his fingers gently against the healing mark on Hoseok’s cheek. It looks better than the one on his forehead. 

“Better,” he says honestly. “I was, uh - not good. But I’m better, I think.”

Jimin squeezes his hand. “Good. I’m so glad.”

Yoongi’s out on a very unwilling golf excursion with their fathers, so they have the apartment to themselves. Jimin offers coffee, and Hoseok accepts, so he brews them two mugs with extra sugar for Hoseok. Setting them on the living room table, he sits down next to Hoseok and takes his hands in his own. 

“I know we have a lot to talk about, but I just - I wanted to say I’m so, so sorry that you had to go through what you did because of me. I’m so sorry you had to endure that and - and that I wasn’t there fast enough, and that I couldn’t do anything to help you. I’m really sorry, hyung.”

Hoseok huffs, tugging Jimin in until he’s half-draped over his lap. “What are you apologizing for, huh? Did you kidnap me?”

“If it weren’t for me, he never would have gone after you.”

“You’re an idiot,” Hoseok says fondly, stroking through Jimin’s hair. “None of that was your fault. And Jungkook told me all about how hard you both tried to make sure that wouldn’t happen. I know you did your best.”

“It wasn’t enough.”

Hoseok shrugs. “I wish you’d told me, that’s all. It makes me sad that you and Jungkook had to carry that burden on your own.”

“We just didn’t want to scare you.”

“I know, baby. But next time, I wanna know when my life’s at stake, okay?”

“No next time,” Jimin mumbles. “I promise I’ll tell you. But no next time.”

Hoseok nods, pulling him so they’re facing each other again. He takes his coffee and sips on it, letting out a pleased noise. “It’s perfect.”

“How are you really, hyung?” Jimin looks at him with a searching gaze, thinking back to the nights Jimin had spent sleepless and afraid after his own kidnapping. 

“It was - it was pretty bad.” He shrugs again. “You know how it is. You’ve been through it. But I’m glad I went away. I think it helped. And I’m not okay, but I am better, so that’s something.”

“That’s something,” Jimin agrees. 

“And Jungkook’s been really sweet,” he says, smiling softly. “I got back this morning, and he’s just - he’s just been so great.” 

“I’m glad,” Jimin says fervently. 

“I know I was hesitant about jumping in at first, but now I’m happy I did. He’s wonderful.” Hoseok plays with the handle of his mug. “I can’t - I can’t believe he did that for me, you know? He could have died.”

“He loves you,” Jimin murmurs, and Hoseok’s answering smile is bright. 

“I know.”

“And I’m here for you, okay? I’m always here when you need something from me.”

“I know.” Hoseok strokes a lock of Jimin’s hair back from his forehead. “How are you? You had to see all that, too, Jiminie. And I know he was terrible, but you knew him. You liked him.”

Jimin understands he’s talking about Jaebum. He swallows, glancing away. “It’s, uh - it’s weird because I felt sad, but then I felt guilty and stupid for feeling sad.”

“You’re not,” Hoseok insists. “It’s natural. You still knew him.”

“Yeah. I guess.” He rubs his face just for something to do. “I feel bad for thinking this because of what he did to Namjoon, but I’m so glad Yoongi wasn’t the one who shot him.”

Hoseok’s smile is gentle. “I would be glad, too. If I had to see Jungkook do something like that - ” He pauses and shakes his head, lips twisting. 

Jimin nods. “I saw Yoongi do it once when I was kidnapped. I still think about it sometimes.”

Hoseok gives a rueful laugh. “What have we gotten ourselves into, huh?”

Jimin shakes his head with a small sigh. “I’m glad you’re here with me. And I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I’m glad you’re okay, too, pup.”

Chapter 19

Notes:

yall ready for 3 chapters of porn

>:)

Jimin wakes up feeling feverish - again. 

This time it doesn’t take as long to understand what’s happening, especially because he wakes up in Yoongi’s bed. He’s already burrowing into Yoongi’s pillow, leaking slick through his underwear, when he comes to. With a groan, he pushes himself out of bed, wobbling on his feet. There’s heat in his belly and something under his skin that feels like an itch he can’t scratch. His cock’s already hard, tenting the front of his underwear and even the t-shirt he’s wearing - one of Yoongi’s. 

“Hyung,” he slurs, stumbling out of the room, briefly thanking his lucky stars that it’s a weekend. So far, this heat feels like the last one, so he doesn’t know if it’s a real one or another fake. 

Yoongi’s in the kitchen cooking what smells like eggs. He’s humming to himself, and the sight of him standing there in a t-shirt and sweats,  broad shoulders and bare collarbones, has the heat intensifying to an ache in his belly. Jimin whimpers, padding down the stairs, and Yoongi smells him before he sees him. He turns around, eyebrows raised, and his nostrils flare as he inhales again. 

“Shit,” he says. “Look at you.”

Jimin just whines, stumbling to wrap his arms around Yoongi’s waist, burying his nose into his scent gland and breathing him in. Yoongi resists him long enough to plate the eggs and turn off the stove, then he turns around and tugs Jimin in. As soon as his mouth touches Jimin’s scent gland, a full-bodied shudder runs through Jimin’s body, lips parting in a moan. 

“ Alpha .”

“My omega’s so needy already,” Yoongi muses, his hands slipping up Jimin’s shirt. The touch of his hands on Jimin’s heated skin has him shivering in pleasure. He tilts his head back, eyes closed, baring his neck in a gesture of submission. A growl comes from low in Yoongi’s throat, then his mouth is on his neck again, sucking marks onto his throat. 

“Alpha, please,” Jimin whimpers. “Need you, Alpha.”

Yoongi pulls back, and Jimin’s omega deflates, following him desperately, clutching at his shirt. Yoongi holds him at bay with a look. “Breakfast first.”

Jimin whines petulantly, feeling like a child, but he can’t help it. The need is so great, and the ache in his belly only worsens with every minute that passes. His skin’s on fire, sweat beading at his temples and collarbones - he can’t eat breakfast . “I need you,” he insists. “You’re supposed to take care of me, Alpha.”

He nuzzles against Yoongi, mouthing at his neck, but Yoongi’s hand comes up to grip the nape of his neck. It’s not a harsh grip, just firm, but the effect is instantaneous - Jimin falls limp, shuddering in his grasp, his omega submitting completely. He stares at Yoongi, eyes wide, mouth dry, and his need to please surpasses even the incessant heat in his belly. 

“Breakfast first,” Yoongi says sternly, and Jimin finds himself nodding. 

They sit at the table, where Yoongi pushes Jimin’s omelette and rice over to him, handing him a pair of chopsticks. Jimin takes a valiant first bite, but he isn’t hungry and he can’t bear to think about food right now. He sets the chopsticks down, squirming in his seat, hands pressing on the chair between his legs in an attempt to avoid touching where he needs it the most. His cock’s so hard it hurts, and he’s leaking enough slick to dampen the chair he’s sitting on. 

Yoongi’s eating his own food calmly, and Jimin stares at him with growing upset. He isn’t hungry, he wants his alpha, and it isn’t fair that Yoongi won’t take care of him like he promised. He’s sitting too far away, too, not even close enough for Jimin to be comforted by his scent. His lower lip wobbles, and he feels silly for feeling so emotional, but it isn’t fair that Yoongi’s being so mean. 

Yoongi looks up, and Jimin’s skin heats up just to have his eyes on him. “You’re not eating, pup,” he says sternly, and Jimin scowls at him. 

“‘M not hungry,” he huffs.

Yoongi scoots over until their chairs are almost touching. He takes Jimin’s chopsticks to pick up a bite of rice and omelette, holding it out for Jimin to eat. Jimin scowls at him. Yoongi sighs. “You’re going to regret it later if you don’t eat.” With his free hand, he pats his thigh. “Come here.”

Now that Jimin has no problem doing. He shifts onto Yoongi’s lap, pleased, even if he’s a little embarrassed that he immediately leaks slick right onto Yoongi’s sweats. Yoongi’s nostrils flare, but he doesn’t react, and that makes Jimin feel upset, too. 

“Don’t I smell good, alpha?” Jimin mumbles. “You don’t want me?”

“Hyung has to take care of you first,” Yoongi says, gentler than before, and holds the bite of food out. This time Jimin lets himself be fed. He eats every bite diligently, resisting the urge to rut against Yoongi’s leg, and hopes he’ll get praised for it. Sure enough, when he eats the last bite, Yoongi kisses his cheek. “Good job, omega. You did so well.”

“Will you fuck me now?” Jimin says, nosing at his scent gland, the musky sandalwood making him a little dizzy. 

“It’s time for my breakfast,” Yoongi says, giving Jimin a cheeky grin before he lifts him up and hoists him right onto the kitchen counter. The heat under Jimin’s skin flares, heartbeat picking up in anticipation. “On your belly.” 

Jimin turns over, still lucid enough to be embarrassed at how quickly he obeys. The granite countertop is cold against his cheek as he rests on it, and it feels nice against his overheated body. He feels Yoongi’s hands on his thighs, spreading his legs, and he shivers. 

“You’re so shameless, omega,” Yoongi says, something mocking in his tone that has Jimin licking his lips. “Climbing into my bed last night, wearing just my shirt. Were you hoping I’d fuck you?”

Jimin flushes, bringing his arms up to hide his face in. He’d maybe been hoping to start something, yeah, but Yoongi had been too sleepy to bite - he’d been feeling kind of horny last night. Now he knows it must have been in anticipation of his heat. 

“Cute,” Yoongi croons, his breath tickling the skin of Jimin’s thigh. He pulls Jimin’s underwear down without teasing, and Jimin squirms at the cool air against his wet ass, his cock pressing against the counter.“You’re so bad at hiding what you want.”

Jimin mumbles something incoherent, wiggling his hips and hoping Yoongi gets the point. He does. He rewards Jimin with a ringing smack of his hand on Jimin’s asscheek, and Jimin’s hips jerk, a gasp falling from his lips. 

“Be patient, pup,” Yoongi warns. He tugs Jimin’s hips up, grip tight enough to bruise. Jimin holds his breath, stomach fluttering with the prospect of finally getting what he needs. 

Yoongi, being Yoongi, teases him first. He nips Jimin’s asscheek lightly, soothing the bite with a lick and a kiss. His lips brush over Jimin’s skin, sending another shiver up his spine, but he doesn’t go anywhere near his hole. Jimin tries to be patient, but he’s burning up inside, and he whines in complaint. 

Yoongi’s hand comes down on his ass again, and this time Jimin moans, hips twitching. “Don’t give hyung a hard time.”

“‘M sorry, hyung, I just - I need it so bad, I need you - ”

Yoongi soothes him with a few kisses over his ass, his hands running up and down his thighs. Jimin feels him blow cold hair on his hole, and he whimpers, pushing his hips back. “Look at you, so wet and messy for me already,” Yoongi hums, then he licks a stripe right down Jimin’s perineum. 

Jimin squirms, letting out a choked gasp, but Yoongi’s already nosing up his crack, pulling his cheeks apart so he can finally press his tongue against Jimin’s hole. Jimin sighs in relief, shoulders relaxing even as his hips and legs tense, bracing themselves for the coming pleasure. 

Yoongi flicks his tongue back and forth, then draws tight circles over his rim. Jimin moans into his arms, squeezing his lids shut, growing wetter under Yoongi’s ministrations, his tongue as skilled as always. He flicks his tongue harder then drags it firmly over his hole, and Jimin cries out, arms shifting so he can scrabble for purchase against the countertop. It’s too smooth for there to be anything to grip, but Jimin’s nails scratch against the granite desperately as Yoongi’s tongue plunges inside his hole, fucking in and out. 

He’s so absurdly wet that Yoongi’s tongue makes a suction sound as he licks into him, and it’s both embarrassing and sexy at the same time. Jimin’s sure there’s a puddle of slick and spit underneath him, and there’s already one of drool forming under his face as he moans stupidly against the cold countertop. 

His hips jerk back and forth, grinding his cock onto the counter and back to take Yoongi’s tongue deeper, as if they can’t decide what they want more. Yoongi hums inside him, the vibration causing his eyes to roll back into his head. He’s moaning too loud and too incessantly to speak, to ask Yoongi for more, to tell him he’s close, to say anything - all that comes out is a chorus of ah , ah , ah ’s. 

Yoongi’s fingers press down on his perineum just as he sucks lewdly around his hole, and Jimin’s coming with a cry, his orgasm spasming through his body and cum spurting onto the counter. Yoongi’s tongue flicks inside him even as he clenches around it, and he doesn’t pull out until Jimin falls limp with a choked sob. 

He leaves one last kiss over his hole before he turns Jimin around, uncaring of the wet mess on the countertop. Jimin’s still hard cock twitches at the sight of Yoongi, his mouth and jaw and neck shiny with slick. Yoongi looks pleased, satisfied, like he’d enjoyed eating Jimin out as much as Jimin had. 

“How’s that, baby?” he asks. “Did alpha do a good job taking care of you?”

Jimin nods fervently. “Yes. Yes, I - I want more, alpha, want you inside - ”

Just like last time, orgasming doesn’t affect the heat under his skin at all. There’s still an ache in his belly, and he’s sweating, restless itch still inside him. His cock curves hard against his stomach. 

“Come on.” Yoongi wipes his mouth on his sleeve and tugs Jimin up, helping him off the counter and onto wobbly legs. “Let’s get to your room.”

“You can fuck me right here,” Jimin says eagerly, but Yoongi shakes his head firmly. 

He pouts but follows Yoongi back to his bedroom, where his bed - for the first time in a long time - is bare of a nest. He’d stopped nesting a few weeks back, and he hasn’t felt the urge to since. But now that he’s in heat, the sight unsettles him. Despite the incessant ache inside him, he finds himself shifting to make a nest, first, arranging his pillows and tossing in his favorite sweater. Yoongi brings him one of his jackets, and he puts that in, too. 

When he’s satisfied, the ache returns, but Yoongi anticipates it well enough. He’s already pushing Jimin into his bed, leaving heated kisses down his neck. Jimin falls pliant, baring his neck, letting Yoongi tug his shirt off and drag his mouth down his chest, over his nipples, along his abdomen. 

“Are you going to fuck me now?” Jimin asks breathlessly, arching his back as Yoongi sucks a mark onto his hip. “Are you gonna - gonna put your knot in me?”

Yoongi glances up from his ministrations, gazing at Jimin under his lashes. He raises a challenging eyebrow. “You think you deserve alpha’s knot already?”

Jimin frowns. “I’m being good for you, alpha.”

Yoongi hums, returning to his open-mouthed kisses, leaving them along the inside of Jimin’s thigh. “You’ve been giving me a hard time, omega.”

The effect is instantaneous. Jimin whines, lip trembling, reaching for Yoongi. “‘M sorry, I’ll be better, I’ll be good for you, alpha, promise - please, need you - ”

Yoongi lets Jimin pull him up, kissing him thoroughly. “We’ll see,” he says when he pulls back, his gaze dark. He sits up and takes Jimin’s legs under the knees, pushing them up to his chest. “Hold onto these for me, baby.”

Jimin obeys, holding his legs up and spread, and Yoongi drops his head to lick a stripe along the underside of Jimin’s cock. Jimin gasps, lashes fluttering, and Yoongi’s lips close around the tip of his cock to suck lightly. He pulls back, kissing the tip, and wraps his hand around the base. His hand’s much bigger than Jimin’s, so it’s easy for him to wrap his fingers around his cock. 

“Such a cute little cock,” Yoongi croons, then he swallows it down to the hilt. 

Jimin moans long and low, fighting the urge to buck up into the wet heat of Yoongi’s mouth. He’s embarrassingly close to coming already, Yoongi’s tongue tracing shapes along his cock. He’s so overwhelmed he doesn’t realize Yoongi’s shifting until he feels his finger press inside his hole, pushing down to the knuckle. 

“Oh, hyung - ” he gasps, squirming in his nest of pillows as Yoongi’s finger strokes his walls and his cheeks hollow to suck his cock. “Hyung, ‘s too much, I’m - ”

Yoongi slides a second finger in, brushing against his walls until he finds what he’s looking for - Jimin jerks, back snapping off the bed, mouth parting in a soundless cry. It only takes a second of Yoongi massaging his prostate and deepthroating his cock for Jimin to come, spilling right down Yoongi’s throat without the chance to warn him. 

Yoongi sucks him dry, fingering him through it, then pulls off with a pop when Jimin falls limp against his pillows. Jimin sobs weakly, reaching for Yoongi, who lets himself be pulled down. Even after all that, Jimin’s cock refuses to soften. 

“S-sorry,” Jimin sobs, nuzzling desperately into Yoongi’s neck. “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t - ”

Yoongi kisses softly along Jimin’s cheekbone. “Where are your toys, baby?”

Jimin feels a thrill of anticipation shoot through him, along with an equally intense shot of disappointment. Toys mean he won’t get Yoongi’s cock yet. “Bottom drawer, box in the back,” he mumbles. 

As if he can sense Jimin’s disappointment, Yoongi pulls him into a lingering kiss before he gets off the bed. He crouches in front of his chest of drawers and pulls out the box of toys, digging through them with an impassive expression. Jimin feels himself flush with embarrassment, even though he thought he’d be beyond that by now. 

“Didn’t know my omega was so dirty,” Yoongi says, wicked tinge to his tone. He holds up one of Jimin’s vibrating dildos, the largest one with a knot at its base. “You like taking them big, huh?” He climbs back onto the bed, crawling toward Jimin with the dildo in hand. “Like them so big they feel like they’re splitting you open?”

Jimin spreads his legs, lips parted as he watches Yoongi approach, feeling the heat of his gaze like a touch. He wants his attention, wants to please, and he likes the way Yoongi looks at him like he wants to devour him. 

“I’ll like yours better,” he says, sucking his fingers into his mouth just to see the way Yoongi’s gaze darkens further. 

“Earn it first,” Yoongi challenges, stopping between Jimin’s legs. He runs his hand over his bare stomach with a pleased hum. “My omega is so pretty.” 

Jimin’s body reacts to the praise before he can help it; a flush spreads down his chest, his lashes fluttering as he sucks around his fingers. Yoongi doesn’t miss it, grinning down at him with a hint of mischief. 

“My omega is so shameless, too,” he says, and Jimin whines, turning his head away in protest. “You just love being praised, don’t you?”

Jimin doesn’t dignify that with an answer, just spreads his legs a little wider and hopes Yoongi gets the hint. To his relief, Yoongi decides not to tease anymore, pushing one of his legs up so he can press the tip of the vibrator to his hole. Jimin squirms in anticipation, breath hitching around his fingers. When Yoongi starts to push the dildo inside him, Jimin sighs, fingers falling out of his mouth and lids drifting shut. 

He’s always loved the feeling of being full, but the heat has only intensified it, and the toy stretching his ass open feels like bliss. He moans when Yoongi pauses, nearly all the way in, the knot catching around his rim, and relishes in the intensity of the stretch. The ache in his belly lessens considerably, his body temporarily fooled by the fake knot. He relaxes, melting into the bed, full and content even as his cock still stands hard against his stomach. 

Then Yoongi turns on the vibration. 

Jimin’s eyes fly open, his back snapping off the bed as his mouth drops open in a loud moan, hands fisting in the sheets. Yoongi pushes the dildo in further, the knot stretching him wide, and the vibrations are right against his prostate. He whines, arching harder off the bed, the pleasure like an assault as he squirms to accommodate it, doesn’t quite know what to do with his body. His hips are twitching, hands flying up over his bed, catching the pillows, catching the sheets, desperate for leverage. 

“Oh, p-please, I - ah , oh, I can’t - ”

Yoongi settles back on his haunches, watching him with hooded eyes. “What a dirty little slut,” he bites, and Jimin sobs. “Enjoying that big cock so much when your alpha’s right here.”

Jimin whines, reaching for him, but the pleasure is incessant and too much to handle and his hands find the sheets for purchase again, moans dripping from his lips. 

Then the vibration lessens, slowing to a quiet hum, and Jimin falls limp with a relieved sob. “Hyung,” he slurs, reaching a hand out. Yoongi doesn’t take it, crawling to hover over him, his expression hard. 

“How do you think that makes your alpha feel?” he demands. “Seeing his omega take another cock while he watches?”

“W-want yours but you won’t give it t-to me!” Jimin cries, nudging at his shoulder weakly. Yoongi’s lips curve into a wicked grin. 

“And you’re not gonna get it if you keep whining like a little slut.”

Jimin’s hips twitch, and his lashes flutter. “‘M only - only a slut for you.”

“Is that so?” Yoongi muses. “Because it doesn’t look like it to me.”

He reaches down and flicks the vibration setting back up again. Jimin cries out, fisting his hands in Yoongi’s shirt, body spasming off the bed. Yoongi’s mouth finds his neck, sucking on the mark he’s already made on Jimin’s scent gland, and the slight sting has his eyes rolling back into his head. He breathes in a lungful of Yoongi’s sandalwood and comes, stomach tightening and hips jerking, ass clenching tight in a way that makes the dildo and its knot feel almost unbearably large. 

Yoongi catches his mouth in a filthy kiss, licking into him, hand wrapped tight around the side of his neck and jaw. He kisses him as Jimin twitches through the last aftershocks of his orgasm, kisses him until he’s full to burst. When he pulls back, Jimin gasps for breath. He doesn’t get the chance to fall loose, the vibrator still stimulating him with maximum intensity, but it doesn’t matter. Like before, his cock won’t soften. 

“Alpha,” Jimin sobs, clutching at him desperately. “Please, need you - want you - n-need your cock inside, need you to fuck me stupid -  oh .”

“I told you to be patient, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi says calmly, and Jimin sobs harder, a mix of drool and tears on his face. He tugs him down, burrowing his nose in his neck, and ruts up against his hip, rubbing cum and precum over Yoongi’s sweats. 

“Fuck me,” he demands, mouthing wetly at his neck. 

Yoongi turns to kiss Jimin’s temple softly. Then he pries himself from Jimin’s grasp and slides off the bed. 

“Where are you - ah, fuck - where are you going?” Jimin cries.

Yoongi settles in the armchair by the window, spreading his legs comfortably. Jimin can see his cock tenting his sweats, doesn’t understand why Yoongi’s holding back when he must want to fuck him too. 

“You have to be good if you want me to fuck you,” Yoongi tells him again, and Jimin groans in frustration. “Be patient, and I’ll give you whatever you want.”

“I’ll be g-good,” Jimin vows, and resolves to take what he’s given without complaint. 

His vibrator doesn’t have a remote, and Yoongi can’t do anything about the setting while he’s sitting over in that chair. Jimin doesn’t dare change it himself, promising himself that he’ll be on his best behavior, so he lies there and lets the pleasure overwhelm him. Yoongi’s watching him, and that makes him even hotter than before, so he tries to put on a show, craving his praise. He sucks his fingers back into his mouth and spreads his legs wide, arching off the bed, baring his neck in a gesture of submission. 

But Yoongi’s expression doesn’t change. He just waits, and Jimin only manages to look pretty for a minute before the pleasure becomes too much and he’s reduced to writhing on the bed, mouth open and drooling, tears clumping his lashes. 

“Oh, alpha , ah, I’m - ah !”

He rolls onto his stomach, tugging one of his pillows between his legs so he can hump it frantically, feeling shameless and slutty.

“Go on and come one more time for your alpha,” Yoongi says, and just the sound of his voice is enough to tip Jimin over the edge. 

He rides the pillow hard as his muscles tense from head-to-toe, and then he comes on it, hips rocking through the waves. Through the sound of his own panting, Jimin hears Yoongi’s footsteps, and his cock twitches in anticipation. The bed dips under Yoongi’s weight. 

“Good boy,” he croons, and Jimin shivers. 

He grabs the base of the dildo and starts to push it in deeper. Jimin groans around the stretch, the knot now fully inside his ass, spreading him wide. The vibrator’s so deep and long he can feel it in his belly, and a shudder runs through him, his omega satisfied with the change. 

“Are you going to take my cock this well?” Yoongi asks, and Jimin scrambles to assure him.

“Better,” he slurs, finding it hard to get his voice out. He’s sitting on the precipice of exhaustion, still too aroused to fall victim to it. 

Yoongi hums. He pulls the vibrator out, and Jimin whines at the sensation, then he fucks it back in deep, knot pushing inside his hole. Jimin whimpers, twitching against the pillow still under his hips, drool dripping down his chin. His omega’s so satisfied with the fullness of the knot that he loses the energy to react, to reciprocate, so he lies limp as Yoongi fucks the dildo in and out, pushing deep each time. 

Jimin rolls onto his side, pressing a hand to his belly so he can feel the dildo move through his skin. He sobs quietly, and he hears Yoongi hiss through his teeth. 

“Fuck,” he says, sounding affected for the first time all morning. “Fuck, baby, look at that. Big cock in your tiny belly, and you’re taking it so well. Fuck.”

Jimin mumbles something incoherent, pleased with the praise, his hips still twitching uncontrollably from the vibrations. He presses down on his belly the next time Yoongi fucks the dildo in, moaning at the intensity of the sensation, and he tilts his head so he can watch the shape of the dildo move under his skin. 

“‘M being - being good?” he manages to ask, struggling to shape his lips around the words. 

“You’re being so good,” Yoongi agrees. “Perfect, baby, you’re perfect. Can’t believe how good you are for me. I’m so lucky.”

Jimin flushes, pleased, the praise heating his skin and giving him a spurt of energy. Yoongi fucks the dildo in and out just a little faster, and the motion mixed with the vibrations is too much. Jimin moans, fingers clutching weakly at the sheets, and when Yoongi starts to praise him again he’s coming, only a dribble of cum leaking from his cock this time. Yoongi pushes the dildo in deep, knot stretching him wide, as he clenches around it. He turns off the vibration.

When he relaxes, the ache in his belly eases, and the heat under his skin seems to fade. Now he’s just exhausted, his body made of jelly as he lies there uselessly. Yoongi litters kisses over his skin, murmuring praise that makes him smile, covering him thoroughly with kisses before he moves to remove the dildo. By then, Jimin’s cock has finally begun to soften. Though Yoongi pulls it out carefully, Jimin still winces as the dildo comes out, slick gushing out after it. 

“How are you feeling, angel?” Yoongi asks, brushing Jimin’s sweaty hair from his forehead. 

“Tired,” Jimin mumbles, and Yoongi kisses his cheek. 

“I know, baby. You go on and take a nap, yeah? I’m going to take care of some heat prep. Get us some snacks and water. Maybe towels,” he adds wryly, and Jimin finds enough strength in him to smile. “I’ll put Haru with her food and litter in my office for now.”

“Is it a real heat?” Jimin asks, still not sure. 

“I think so. Your scent’s been strong since yesterday. I had a feeling it was coming.”

“Oh,” Jimin mumbles. He hadn’t even realized. “Can you call me out of class tomorrow?”

“Of course. I’ll get us both a few days.” Yoongi moves off the bed, slipping into Jimin’s bathroom and returning with a damp cloth and his fluffy bathrobe. “Can I move you to the couch? I’m gonna lay some towels down.”

Jimin mumbles a complaint, but he lets Yoongi clean him up carefully and tuck him into his robe anyway. He’s in no position to get up, and he tells Yoongi so, who just laughs and picks him up. He carries him to the couch and sets him down. 

“Happy, princess?” he says, and Jimin huffs. 

“What about you?” he asks, not missing the still very visible boner Yoongi’s sporting.

“I can wait,” he says. “I’m gonna need to wait if I wanna keep up with you.”

“Can’t get it up fast enough, huh?”

“I take care of you, and this is how you treat me?” Yoongi complains. “I make you come five times, and this is the thanks I get?”

Jimin’s giggling too hard to answer. 

“Good thing I’m all healed up, huh? You might break a few more of my ribs over the course of the next few days.”

“Hyung!” Jimin shrieks, grabbing a cushion off the couch and flinging it at him. 

Yoongi just laughs. 

Chapter 20

When Jimin wakes up from his doze, the fever has grown unbearable. 

He barely registers that he’s in his bed again, towels spread underneath him with Yoongi by his side. Yoongi’s awake, scrolling through his phone, and Jimin only has to inhale his scent once to feel like he’s going absolutely out of his mind. He groans, skin on fire, belly aching both with cramps and a hollow sort of emptiness - he feels like he’s missing something, like he’s strangely empty. 

His cock’s hard all over again, and he’s itching with arousal, sandalwood filling his lungs until he feels like crawling out of his skin. “Yoongi,” he moans, and he can’t believe he thought it was bad last time. That was nothing compared to this. He doesn’t think he’s ever needed something the way he needs Yoongi right now. 

Yoongi puts his phone down and reaches for Jimin. Jimin sheds his robe and climbs onto his lap, grinding down before he’s even settled, desperate for relief.

“There it is,” Yoongi says, and Jimin doesn’t understand how he can sit there sounding amused when Jimin feels like he’s dying. “It’s really starting now.”

“Alpha, please,” Jimin says, clutching his shirt, and Yoongi raises his arms so Jimin can tug it off and toss it away. “Please, don’t tease this time, you have to - you have to give me your cock, it hurts so bad.”

He’s almost crying, and Yoongi’s expression grows gentle. He takes Jimin’s chin in his hand and brings him forward for a kiss. It’s too sweet for the burning arousal taking over Jimin’s body, and he deepens it right away, rutting against him, his cock rubbing against Yoongi’s bare stomach. 

Yoongi’s hand firmly grips the nape of Jimin’s neck, and like before, Jimin falls limp, whining quietly as the need to please overwhelms him. 

“Shh,” Yoongi murmurs, pressing kisses over his face. “Alpha’s going to take good care of you, but you have to take a deep breath for me, okay?”

Jimin nods against his shoulder, blinking back the desperate tears. He trusts him so much it’s almost frightening - right now, it feels like there’s no one in the world but Yoongi, and that he’ll never need anyone else either. He takes a deep breath like he’s told, and Yoongi shifts him off his lap so he can take off his sweats. He isn’t wearing underwear. When he tugs Jimin back onto his lap, his cock slides through the slick between Jimin’s asscheeks, and Jimin moans unabashedly. 

He runs his hands over Yoongi’s chest, leaning down to lick the outlines of his tattoos, rolling his hips back to feel the way his thick cock moves between his cheeks. He’s so wet that the slide is absurdly easy. 

“Alpha,” Jimin whines, pressing his nose against Yoongi’s neck. He kisses him there, tongue slipping out to taste. “Want you so bad.”

“I’m all yours, baby,” Yoongi murmurs, threading his fingers through Jimin’s hair. The way he’s looking at him stokes the fire in his belly. 

It’s permission, and Jimin’s eager to take it. He reaches behind him to take Yoongi’s cock in his hand, craning his head to look over shoulder so he can watch it breach his hole. It’s thick and hard and the tip alone has Jimin gasping with pleasure, ready to feel the fullness all the way in his stomach. He sobs as he sinks down quicker than he should, given the size of Yoongi’s cock, but he’s too aroused to care. He’s wanted Yoongi’s cock for so long. They’ve done other things since their lunch date, with their mouths and hands and bodies, but this is the first time he’s taking Yoongi’s cock. 

“Careful,” Yoongi warns, but Jimin’s already bottoming out. His asscheeks hit Yoongi’s hips with a smack, and his vision blurs as he grows accustomed to the fullness. 

“Oh,” he moans. Yoongi’s so big and thick inside him, better than any dildo, and Jimin can feel his cock twitch pressed against his prostate, and he’s so big - “Oh. Oh , fuck.”

His fingers grip Yoongi’s biceps for purchase, tight enough to bruise, and Yoongi’s looking at him like he’s everything and Jimin’s so full he’s dizzy with it and - 

He’s coming. 

He hasn’t even moved, and he’s coming, muscles tensing to the painful as his cock spurts right onto Yoongi’s stomach and chest, his mouth open as he tries and fails to breathe. His eyes roll back into his head. His belly contracts one last time, hole clenching tight around Yoongi’s cock, before he relaxes.

“Oh my god,” he sobs, flushing down to his chest, both embarrassed and turned on by his body’s reaction. 

“Needy little omega,” Yoongi sneers, and Jimin’s eyes shoot open. Yoongi’s looking at him with that mocking amusement that gets Jimin all hot and bothered, and he licks his lips, flushing deeper under his gaze. “My cock’s so good it had you coming before I even got to fuck you, huh?”

Jimin squirms, and the movement shifts Yoongi’s cock inside him, sending another wave of arousal through his body. His cock, of course, does not soften despite his orgasm. He looks away, can’t bear to meet Yoongi’s gaze. 

Yoongi wraps a hand around his neck and turns him back, forcing him to look at him. Jimin peers at him under his lashes, nails digging into his skin where he still clutches his arms. “Go on then, omega. You wanted my cock so bad, aren’t you going to do something with it? Or are you going to sit there until you come again?”

“C-can I?” Jimin asks, doesn’t know why he’s asking when Yoongi’s telling him to move, when the ache inside him is so unbearable that he wants to move more than anything. 

“Can you what?” Yoongi demands. 

“Can I fuck myself on your cock, alpha?” He licks his lips again, hands running down Yoongi’s chest, passing through his cum. “I’ll - I’ll make you feel good, too. Promise.”

“We’ll see,” Yoongi says, uninterested, and Jimin’s desperate to make him see. 

He can’t hold himself at bay much longer, thinks he only managed to wait so long because he came once already, so he starts to bounce on Yoongi’s lap. His breath hitches as Yoongi’s cock pushes deeper when he slams down against him, and after that he can’t hold back any longer. He rides him at a frantic pace, bouncing fast enough that his legs tremble from the force of it, the smack of his ass on Yoongi’s hips ringing through the room obscenely. The bed’s rocking with the force of his movements, and he realizes he’s moaning loud , can’t help himself. 

“Oh, oh, there - ah, I’m - ah, ah, ah !”

“Slow down, baby, don’t hurt yourself,” Yoongi says, and concern knits his brows together but his voice is hoarse with desire, too. 

Jimin can’t slow down, doesn’t want to. He grabs the headboard behind Yoongi for leverage, throwing his hips back onto his cock with all the force he can manage, crying out every time he feels Yoongi’s cock push deep inside him. He’s always loud when he’s getting fucked, but he thinks he’s on another level today - he’s too delirious from his heat-haze to care, though. Yoongi doesn’t seem to care either. He’s watching Jimin, riveted, his hands running up and down his body, tweaking his nipples and caressing his throat. 

“Ah, ah, ah - oh, alpha - “

One of Yoongi’s hands grips Jimin’s hip tightly, and the other presses against his lower belly. Jimin gasps, hips stuttering and losing rhythm, his muscles tightening from head-to-toe again. He’s pretty sure he’s going to come out of this with a couple of strained muscles. 

“Come for hyung,” Yoongi murmurs, pressing a little harder, and Jimin comes with a loud sob.

His cum splatters up to Yoongi’s chin, mixing with the droplets from before, and Yoongi swipes it up with his fingers. He pulls Jimin down by the neck, pressing his fingers into Jimin’s mouth. Jimin latches around them instinctively, licking them clean, the salty tang of his own cum making his lashes flutter. 

“Pretty baby,” Yoongi croons, removing his fingers and replacing them with his tongue, kissing Jimin filthily. Jimin shivers at the praise, melting into the kiss despite the urgency still bubbling under his skin, the desperation that begs him to start moving again. 

He rolls his hips back, shuddering at the wet squelch that’s only grown noisier after the slick that gushed out during Jimin’s orgasm. The sound makes his cock twitch. He pulls away from Yoongi, a line of saliva collecting their lips, and starts to bounce on his lap again. His arms twine around Yoongi’s neck, and he admires the way Yoongi looks as debauched as Jimin feels, cum on his chest, lips swollen and wet, sweat dripping down his temples. 

“Hyung,” Jimin breathes, hovering over his mouth, their breath mingling. Yoongi’s gaze travels over his face, settling on his lips, and turns hazy. 

Jimin fucks himself hard on Yoongi’s cock, pressing their open mouths together with the intention of initiating another kiss. He fails, panting too hard to keep it up, his eyes rolling back into his head as Yoongi’s cock hits his prostate with every thrust. Yoongi doesn’t seem to be having the same problem - he sucks on Jimin’s tongue, traces his own along the roof of Jimin’s mouth, licks over his lips. Jimin moans into his mouth, tastes their combined sweat on his tongue, and rides him like his life depends on it. Right now, it really feels like it does. 

Yoongi’s hands run down his sweaty back to settle on his asscheeks. He cups them tightly and Jimin pushes back into his grip. He spreads Jimin’s cheeks, and Jimin shudders when the cool air of the room hits his hole. 

“Look at you,” Yoongi says, breathless. “Using hyung’s cock like it’s your toy. I didn’t know my baby was such a slut.”

Jimin whines, tugging away from him so he can hold onto the headboard for leverage again. He grinds his hips back, a shuddering moan leaving him as the pleasure runs through him like liquid fire. 

“Bet they can hear you downstairs.” Yoongi’s hand fists around his cock, thumb toying with the tip, and Jimin’s mouth drops open. “Is that what you want? Want everyone to know how good your alpha’s cock feels?”

“Yes,” Jimin gasps, tossing his head back, eyes squeezing shut. There are tears suspended on his lashes, and they spill over, catching on his lips. “Yes, please, I - oh, god .”

“Tell me how it feels,” Yoongi demands, and Jimin’s helpless to disobey. 

“‘S b-big, so full and thick inside - I - oh, oh , it’s so good.” His words break off into a sob, and he can’t manage to speak anymore. Yoongi pumps his cock and Jimin arches back, nails digging into Yoongi’s chest as his body tightens. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi breathes, head hitting the headboard. “So wet and tight around me, baby, could fuck you all day.”

The praise sends him over the edge, his third orgasm hitting him with no less intensity. He sobs, toes clenching, body spasming, hole clenching around Yoongi’s cock in a way that almost hurts. 

“Good boy,” Yoongi croons, peppering kisses over his face. “You’re such a good boy.”

Jimin whimpers. The exhaustion is setting in, his legs aching from riding Yoongi so hard, but his cock’s still standing proud and he doesn’t think the heat will ease until he gets Yoongi’s knot. Resting weakly against Yoongi’s chest, he starts to roll his hips again. 

“Alpha,” he slurs. “Alpha, p-please. Want your knot, want you to - to fill me with your cum, breed me, fuck me full of your pups - ”

Yoongi growls from somewhere deep in his chest. His hands fists in Jimin’s hair and he yanks him off his cock, tossing him onto the bed. Jimin shudders, rolling onto his belly and pushing his ass out in anticipation. 

“Ready to take my cock like you were made for it, aren’t you?” Yoongi bites. “Cockslut.”

Jimin moans, slick gushing out of his ass, cock twitching. Yoongi’s hand runs down his back. 

“You like that?” he says. “Like being a cockslut?”

“Yours,” Jimin corrects, sighing into the sheets. “Your cockslut.”

“That’s right,” Yoongi agrees. “You’re mine.”

His hand finds Jimin’s hair again, and he fucks in with one quick thrust. Jimin’s back arches, jaw dropping, hands fisting into the towels. 

“Yes,” he breathes. “Please, yes, I need it - ”

“You’re gonna take what I give you like a good little omega,” he says, then he pulls out to the tip and slams back in. Jimin cries out, squeezing his eyes shut, and pushes his hips back to meet Yoongi’s thrusts. 

He pistons his cock hard and fast into Jimin’s hole, hand moving to grip the back of his neck, holding him still. Jimin moans a garbled mess of yes ’s and please ’s, drool pooling on the bed, his eyes rolling back into his head. He can feel himself fast approaching climax again, but he doesn’t want to come before Yoongi does, wants to come when Yoongi pumps him full of his seed. 

“Wanted to fuck you so bad,” Yoongi tells him, and it sounds like his teeth are gritted. “Wanted to see your little hole stretched wide with my cock, wanted to hear you beg for it, wanted to see you fucked out and messy - ”

“Yoon - Yoongi,” he sobs, burying his face into the bed. “Oh, I can’t - ah - I’m - ”

“Go on, pup, come for your alpha. Let me see how good I make you feel.”

Jimin doesn’t need any further urging. He clenches tight around Yoongi’s cock, coming hard, only a few weak droplets of cum leaving his cock this time. Yoongi’s hips stutter as he tightens around him, but as soon as he starts to loosen up, Yoongi’s back to fucking him hard and fast. He’s losing rhythm, a low growl building in the back of his throat, and Jimin urges him on by clenching around his cock again.

“Fuck,” Yoongi bites, and Jimin can feel his knot beginning to swell, catching on Jimin’s rim as he pushes it in and out. 

His thrusts slow by necessity as his knot grows, and Jimin whines, shuddering in bliss because this is what he wanted, what he’s been wanting. Yoongi slams into him once, twice, then his cum starts to spill inside Jimin, filling him up until he feels even wetter and sloppier than before. Yoongi grinds his knot past Jimin’s rim, and Jimin shudders again, a final orgasm burning through him. This time, no cum even makes it out of his cock. 

Then they’re both panting, the heat under Jimin’s skin and the hollow ache finally easing. He falls limp with exhaustion, growing aware of how wet and messy he is, covering in drool and tears and cum and slick and sweat. Yoongi lowers himself carefully to the bed, apologizing when Jimin whimpers at the shift, and arranges them so they’re curled up together. Yoongi’s chest presses against Jimin’s back, and he kisses down the side of his neck gently. 

“Okay?” he asks, and Jimin hums a response. Yoongi reaches around to thread their fingers together. 

“Hyung,” Jimin says, sounding a little choked. Suddenly he feels weird and emotional and maybe it’s too soon to say he loves Yoongi, but maybe it isn’t too soon at all. He shivers, blinking back tears. “Hyung,” he says again, uselessly. 

Yoongi turns Jimin’s head carefully so he can kiss him, as if he understands that right now, the emotions are too much for words. 

❦

When Jimin wakes up, he doesn’t feel as gross as he’d expected to feel. He also doesn’t feel as empty as he should. Wiggling his toes and fingers, he takes quick stock of his body and finds that he’s sore all over, which is expected. He sits up, wincing at the dull ache in his back, and realizes he doesn’t feel empty because there’s a plug in his ass. A rush of affection fills him. He would have hated waking up empty, feeling like he’d lost all of Yoongi’s cum, and Yoongi had anticipated that. 

The now-familiar heat sits under his skin again, but it isn’t as intense yet as it was the last time he woke up. He’s more lucid, at least, can think about things that aren’t just Yoongi’s cock. He slips out of bed, bare feet sticking to the floor, and grabs his robe from where Yoongi must have draped it on the chair. Shrugging it on, he leaves his bedroom in search of Yoongi. 

Yoongi’s sitting in the living room with a cup of coffee. He’s wearing sweats, but his chest is bare, and his hair’s cutely ruffled. There’s a plate of sandwiches on the coffee table in front of him. Alerted by his scent, Yoongi looks up before Jimin can call for him. 

“Morning, sunshine,” he teases, even though Jimin can clearly see it’s night. 

“Hi,” Jimin mumbles, beelining for the couch where he sits and pressing right up against him. He scents Yoongi unabashedly, and when he breathes in the heady sandalwood, he thinks he might not be as lucid as he’d hoped. 

Yoongi’s arm winds around his waist, and the other tilts his head so he can kiss him. It starts out sweet enough, deepening as their scents start to spike. Jimin tastes Yoongi almost greedily. He’s just starting to get restless again when Yoongi pulls away. 

“Eat first,” he says, pointing at the sandwiches. The pout has barely formed on Jimin’s face, but Yoongi’s already shaking his head. “No arguing. How are you gonna have the energy to beg for my cock if you don’t eat?”

It has the intended effect. Jimin flushes, shoving at him with a huff before reaching for the sandwiches. “Did you make these?”

“Hell no,” Yoongi says easily. “Slept like a dog. You’re a lot to keep up with, you know that? I ordered meal delivery.”

“I’m sorry,” Jimin mumbles through a mouthful of sandwich, looking away. 

“What are you sorry for?”

“I’m being too much.”

Yoongi snorts, and Jimin glances at him. “You’re in heat, baby, you’re supposed to be too much. What are you sorry for?”

“Still, it’s - it’s a lot and you must be tired and - ”

“Oh, poor me, I get to fuck you stupid for three days straight.” Yoongi’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “How terrible for me.”

Jimin swallows the last bite of his sandwich and drapes himself back over Yoongi, half in his lap, nosing at his neck. “You’re the worst.”

Yoongi strokes his back gently. “I’m the worst, I know.”

Jimin kisses Yoongi’s scent gland, his scent rich on his tongue, and drags his lips up to Yoongi’s mouth. Their kiss is slow and sensuous, full of restrained, muted need. Jimin shifts to straddle Yoongi’s waist, their chests flush together, and traces his fingers lightly over the tattoos on Yoongi’s arms. 

“I like you a lot, hyung,” he mumbles, nipping Yoongi’s collarbone with his teeth. “I like you so much.”

He can feel Yoongi smile against his skin when he kisses his jaw. “I like you a lot, too, Jimin-ah.” Yoongi’s lips travel along his jaw, and he sucks a mark under his ear, working the skin lightly between his teeth. “I’m so lucky I have you, you know that? So fucking lucky.”

Jimin kisses him more heatedly this time, feeling his body grow alive with arousal. He doesn’t break the kiss until he’s dizzy from lack of air, and when he does he gulps a breath and dives in again, licking into Yoongi’s mouth. 

“Here,” Yoongi says between kisses, moving Jimin around until he’s straddling one of Yoongi’s thighs instead of his waist. He undoes the tie of Jimin’s robe and cups his ass, tugging him close until Jimin’s pressed against his hip. 

Jimin catches on right away. His cock’s already hard again, and he starts to rock his hips, rubbing his cock on Yoongi’s hip and the handle of the plug on Yoongi’s thigh. With every move, the plug presses hard inside his ass, rubbing against his prostate. He finds Yoongi’s mouth again, kissing him as he starts to rut against him faster until he’s panting too hard to kiss back.

“How pathetic,” Yoongi says casually, like he’s commenting on the weather. Jimin’s breath hitches. “Humping my leg to get off, a little bitch in heat.”

Jimin whines, trying to connect their mouths in another kiss, but Yoongi grabs him by the chin and holds him at bay. 

“Pathetic,” he says again, and Jimin’s hips stutter. 

His free hand brushes around to his chest, flicking his thumb over his nipple until Jimin’s hole is spasming with need around the plug. He works it until it’s red and puffy, then his hands find Jimin’s ass under his robe again, gripping him hard enough to bruise as he forces Jimin’s hips to move faster. 

“Ride me like you mean it,” Yoongi tells him, and Jimin struggles to snap his hips faster. 

“Oh,” he gasps, feeling it build, feeling the way his whole body tightens like a coiled wire. Yoongi licks over his scent gland, and the wire unravels, Jimin’s hips losing rhythm as he convulses through his orgasm. 

Rather than relax in satisfaction, the full force of his heat returns, and his body burns . He moans, pressing a hand against his belly where the ache has begun, and seeks out Yoongi’s scent. 

“Oh, please,” he groans. “Fuck me, hyung, need you so bad - ‘m so empty without you, I need you - need you to fuck me ‘til I’m stuffed with your cum, need - need - ”

Yoongi growls by his ear. He tugs Jimin’s robe off and pushes him onto his feet. “You have a plug in you, omega, you’re not empty.”

“‘S not enough!” Jimin cries, trying to climb back onto Yoongi’s lap, but Yoongi holds him away. He stands, hand wrapping tight around Jimin’s wrist, and drags him to the wall of windows bordering the living room. 

“Let’s show everyone what a needy slut you are,” Yoongi bites, pushing Jimin face-first against the window. Jimin shudders as the cold glass touches his heated skin, his hazy mind not even present enough to be ashamed that he’ll be fucked with the entire city before them. 

“Yes,” he breathes, fogging the glass. He can hear the sound of Yoongi discarding his sweats. “ Please .”

Yoongi tugs the plug out, but before Jimin even has the chance to complain about losing his cum, Yoongi pushes his cock in its place. Jimin groans at the stretch, so much better than the plug could ever be, and the ache in his belly lessens. The wet squelch of Yoongi’s cock passing through the mess of cum and slick inside him makes his cock twitch, brushing the cool glass window.

“Feel so good,” he sighs. “Want you to fuck me full of your cum, alpha.”

Yoongi’s still holding the plug between his fingers as he holds Jimin’s hips in a bruising grip. “Is that what you want? To be bred and bloated and full? Want me to cum inside you over and over until your belly as big as it’d be with pups?”

“Oh, yes,” Jimin moans, and he can’t bear to wait any longer. He fucks back, grinding onto Yoongi’s cock, taking him in deep. 

Yoongi brings his hand down on Jimin’s ass, and the smack rings throughout the living room. Jimin’s hips jerk, and he cries out, tears springing to his eyes. 

“You take what I give you, omega,” Yoongi rasps, and Jimin whimpers. 

“Yes, yes alpha, please - please give it to me - ”

He does. Yoongi fucks him hard against the window, wet squelch and the smack of their skin echoing through the room, mixed with Yoongi’s heaving breath and Jimin’s desperate moans. Jimin’s cheek presses against the glass, breath turning it hot and foggy, his cock leaving smears of precum and his sweaty fingers slipping as he presses them onto the window. 

“Oh, oh, oh!”

Jimin comes with his cock rubbing against the glass. Yoongi doesn’t slow down, fucking him through it, and Jimin takes and takes and takes. He feels fucking delirious, the city lights swimming before his eyes, his mind drifting somewhere distant. He can’t think beyond breed me breed me breed me and he thinks he might be saying it out loud, too, doesn’t know if his mouth’s forming anything intelligible or just a string of garbled noise. He comes again, Yoongi hissing filth into his ear, and Yoongi’s cock’s so deep but it isn’t deep enough, Jimin wants him seared inside him so that he never forgets the way it feels to be full.

“Shit,” Yoongi groans, and Jimin tries to come back into himself, realizes he’s drooling all the way down to his neck. Yoongi’s hand is pressed into his belly. “Fuck, baby, give me your hand.”

Jimin’s too delirious to move, so Yoongi takes one of Jimin’s hands off the glass and holds it against his stomach.

“ Oh , oh god - ”

He can feel the thick length of Yoongi’s cock right in his belly, feel it through his skin as he fucks him, and it’s obscene and dirty and Jimin’s never felt so aroused in his life. He looks down, and he can see it, too, see the shape of it move up and down through his skin. 

“Alpha!” he cries, brings his other hand down to feel it, too, and leans fully back against Yoongi’s chest. Yoongi holds him up, fucking deep into him, and Jimin comes again. When his ass clenches tight around Yoongi’s cock, he can feel that his knot has started to grow. “Fill me up, alpha,” he goads, and Yoongi holds him tight and grinds into him, groaning by his ear. 

Yoongi pulls out and spins him around, lifting his leg and pushing back in quickly. Jimin rests back against the glass as Yoongi rolls his hips in tight circles, pressing their foreheads together. His knot swells until the stretch brings tears to Jimin’s eyes, then he comes, filling Jimin up endlessly. Jimin finally relaxes, falling limp, held up only by Yoongi’s arms. His omega feels satisfied, full and bred. His lids slip shut. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re gonna kill me,” Yoongi sighs, kissing his neck softly. His cock twitches inside Jimin, spurting another round of cum. 

Jimin hums, too tired to speak. Yoongi lifts Jimin’s other leg to wrap around his waist and carries him to the daybed by the window, setting the plug on the side table. He lies back, getting them comfortable, and kisses the furrow in Jimin’s brow when he winces as his knot shifts inside him. 

“Hyung, I - ” Jimin falters, and he’s sensitive and there are tears in his eyes. 

Yoongi kisses him, arranging Jimin so that he’s resting on his chest, legs straddling his hips. “Angel,” he murmurs, and Jimin flushes, overwhelmed, hiding his face in Yoongi’s neck. “Pretty, pretty baby. I’m so lucky.” 

He runs a hand up Jimin’s back, stroking his hair, kissing every bit of him that he can reach. 

“Hyung,” Jimin sighs, eyes drifting shut again. 

“If you wake up before me, use my cock all you need,” Yoongi says quietly, and Jimin kisses his chest in lieu of a response. 

Chapter 21

He wakes up before Yoongi does. He must have dozed off for a short while only, because Yoongi’s knot hasn’t gone down yet. Jimin’s lashes flutter, a quiet whimper leaving him as he takes in the stretch and his hard cock trapped between their bellies and the arousal burning under his skin. For a moment, he’s frustrated. No matter what he does, the arousal won’t go away. He’s fucking exhausted. 

But the heat trumps his exhaustion, and he sits up, knees bent on either side of Yoongi’s waist. He’s sleeping contentedly, mouth slightly open, hair over his forehead. Jimin doesn’t want to wake him up. But Yoongi’s knot’s so massive inside him that Jimin doesn’t even think he’ll need a pounding to satisfy him this time. Yoongi’s spurted the rest of his cum inside Jimin as they slept, and Jimin’s pleased to note that his stomach is slightly bloated. It’ll take another few orgasms for him to be really full, but it’s a start. 

He grinds his hips back, feeling Yoongi’s cock move inside him, sinking a little deeper on his knot so that it sits full inside his rim. He gasps, eyes rolling back into his head, the stretch deliciously painful. Slowly, he begins to roll his hips in tight circles, Yoongi’s cock rubbing right against his prostate. His eyes water. He sticks three fingers in his mouth to keep himself quiet, sucking on them as he fucks himself. 

It doesn’t take him long to come, full to the brim as he is with Yoongi’s big knot. The way his ass clenches around it when he comes hurts, and he lets a whimper of pain loose. Then he keeps on fucking himself because his cock’s still hard and he needs it, needs it like he needs to breathe. 

Yoongi wakes up slowly, lips twitching and brow furrowing, groaning and mumbling something incoherent. It’s endearing, the way he comes to. He blinks his eyes and squints up at Jimin. By then, Jimin’s already come twice, and Yoongi’s knot has begun to grow smaller. 

“You’ve been busy.” Yoongi’s voice is hoarse from sleep. He looks down, running a finger through the cum on his chest. “Very busy.”

Jimin flushes, making himself smaller. “Really - really wanted your cock, alpha.”

“I know,” Yoongi says easily. “Cocksluts don’t want anything else.”

He reaches blindly behind him for the plug on the table. When he finds it, Jimin whines, not wanting to lose his cock yet. 

“Be good,” Yoongi warns. “Alpha’s gotta let one knot go down before he can pop another one for you, yeah?”

Jimin lifts up obediently, sniffling when Yoongi’s cock slips out of his ass, and lets Yoongi replace it with the plug. He shifts off his lap, but Yoongi stops him with a look. 

“Aren’t you going to clean me up?” He gestures to the cum on his chest and stomach. Jimin nods, reaching out a hand. Yoongi catches it. He raises an eyebrow. “Not like that, omega.” 

Jimin bites his lip, cock twitching as he understands. He slides off the daybed, kneeling on the floor, and leans to press his mouth to Yoongi’s abdomen. He laps up the droplets of cum there then moves up, tongue dragging over Yoongi’s clan tattoo, the dragon that covers him from ribs to chest. He licks up every last drop of cum like a good boy, and then he sits back and waits for praise. 

“Good job,” Yoongi croons, stroking his cheek. He sits up, running a hand through his hair and wincing as he stretches. “Go wait for me on your bed, baby.”

Jimin does. He kneels in his nest, hands clenched into fists over his knees, and waits. Yoongi takes too long - or at least, in Jimin’s heat-haze, it feels like far too long. He’s squirming with desperation by the time Yoongi steps back in holding two water bottles, one nearly finished. He presses the other to Jimin’s mouth and makes him drink. Jimin only realizes how thirsty he is when the cool water goes down his throat; then he gulps half the bottle down in one go, which has him running to the bathroom, Yoongi laughing behind him. 

When he emerges, Yoongi has his box of toys out on the table by his bed. Jimin would much prefer Yoongi’s cock instead of another toy, but he promised to be good, and he wants his alpha’s praise. He settles on the bed and waits while Yoongi looks like he’s in thought. 

“Jimin-ah,” he says abruptly, looking like he’s made a decision. He turns to face him, climbing onto the bed and bringing a bottle of lube from Jimin’s box with him. Jimin frowns at it. He’s so wet he’s pretty sure lube is entirely unnecessary. “You ever been fisted?”

Jimin’s mouth waters, eyes widening. His cock gives a twitch. “Oh, please .”

Yoongi laughs. “That’s not an answer, baby.”

Jimin swallows his excitement and thinks hard about being good. “Once.”

Yoongi hums, inspecting the bottle of lube. Jimin squirms. Every second that Yoongi’s attention isn’t on him feels like an eternity. “Oh, yeah? Boyfriend?”

Jimin flushes, not quite willing to think about other alphas when he’s with Yoongi. He’d had a few regular fuckbuddies for a while. “No.”

Yoongi sets the lube down and glances at him. “I’m jealous.”

“I’m yours,” Jimin says immediately, and Yoongi gives him the ghost of a smile. “Just yours.”

“Did you like it?”

Jimin nods eagerly, crawling into Yoongi’s space so he can brush his nose over Yoongi’s scent gland. It’s getting harder to force his lucidity, to hold a conversation when all he can think about is getting fucked. He’s trying so hard to be good, but if Yoongi takes any longer, Jimin’s going to go crazy. “Are you gonna fist me? I’ll like it better if it’s you.”

Yoongi kisses him. Jimin promptly forgets their entire conversation, body alive with need, as Yoongi pulls him into his lap and runs his hands down his body. He twines around him as he kisses him back eagerly, feeling like he’s on fire everywhere their bare skin touches. Yoongi’s soft cock presses against his thigh. He fingers the base of Jimin’s plug, and Jimin shudders in anticipation. 

“I’m going to fist you,” Yoongi says. “But I need you to be very good for me, Jimin-ah. If you’re impatient, I’ll leave you here to satisfy yourself.”

“I’ll be good,” Jimin insists, dropping kisses down Yoongi’s neck. “Please, I’ll be so good, I’ll do whatever you say.”

Yoongi takes his chin in his hand, forcing him up to look at him. His gaze is serious. “Promise you’ll be good.”

“Promise.”

He nods and lets him go. “Hands and knees, Jimin-ah.”

Jimin practically vibrates with excitement. He does as he’s told and cranes his neck over his shoulder to look. Yoongi doesn’t waste time, perhaps conscious of how long Jimin’s already been waiting, and carefully removes his plug, replacing it with one finger inside him to the knuckle. He crooks his finger and massages Jimin’s walls, pulled a pleased sigh from Jimin before adding another finger. Jimin’s fingers turn white where they clutch the bed sheets as Yoongi fucks his fingers in and out with a messy squelch. 

He pushes a third finger inside him, and Jimin’s belly tightens with pleasure at the increased fullness. “You’re sucking me right in,” Yoongi says, leaving a kiss on the base of Jimin’s spine as he pivots his fingers. Jimin whines, restraining the urge to rock back onto his fingers, knowing he has to be good. 

Yoongi’s fingers brush his prostate and Jimin moans, losing the ability to keep his head up. He drops it, staring down at the sheets, a shiver running up his spine when Yoongi brushes his prostate again and again. His teeth dig hard into his lip, vision swimming, and his muscles begin their telltale tightening in preparation for his orgasm. 

“Gonna - gonna come, hyung,” Jimin whimpers. 

“Not stopping you.”

Yoongi crooks his fingers just right and Jimin gasps, shuddering and twitching as cum spurts from his cock. Yoongi fucks him through it, waiting until Jimin is loose and pliant as he comes down from the high before he begins to add his pinky. 

“Good boy,” Yoongi croons. “Wish you could see how pretty your hole looks, stretching wide for me.”

Jimin whines, lashes fluttering, his hole clenching briefly at the praise. “I’m being good for you,” Jimin reminds him, hyper aware of how badly he just wants to toss his hips back and force Yoongi’s fingers deeper. But he doesn’t because he’s being good . 

“I know,” Yoongi soothes. “You’re doing so well.”

He removes his fingers entirely, and Jimin makes a noise of complaint that’s promptly ignored. He can hear Yoongi uncapping the bottle of lube, and when Yoongi pushes his fingers back inside, the slide is smoother and the squelch is louder than before. 

“Alright, baby,” Yoongi says just before Jimin can feel his fingers tighten together and the tip of his thumb breach his hole. 

“Oh,” Jimin breathes. Yoongi pushes just a little further, and Jimin whines at the stretch. He grabs a pillow for comfort and tucks it under his head, keeping his ass raised high in the air. “More, hyung,” he slurs, but Yoongi’s pace remains the same. 

Jimin can feel Yoongi’s hand pushing inside past his knuckles, and he breathes and relaxes through the stretch, eyes rolling back into his head. He moans, clutching the pillow tightly, biting into the cover as he stretches and stretches and stretches. It feels so fucking good, and his omega - dazed by heat - is both satisfied and eager. 

“‘S good,” he’s moaning, taking Yoongi’s hand all the way until he’s inside him to the wrist. “‘S good, alpha, I’m - ”

“Such a good little omega, sucking me right in like that. Good job, angel, you’re doing so well for your alpha.”

Jimin moans again, the pillow cover slipping out of his mouth, covered in drool. Yoongi’s fingers clench and unclench slowly inside him, knuckles brushing his prostate, and Jimin cries out, belly clenching, back arching. The pleasure’s unreal and he doesn’t think he’ll last, feels so full and overwhelmed and needy even though he has everything he wants. 

“Hyung,” he cries as Yoongi clenches again. “Ah, hyung , h-hyung - ”

Yoongi’s saying something to him but Jimin’s drifting off, his mouth open and his eyes shut, cheek pressed against the pillow. His fingers clench and Jimin thinks he makes a noise, feels too distant and content to really know, before he comes, body spasming and ass tightening, tears wetting his lashes. 

“Alpha,” Jimin slurs, or he thinks he does because Yoongi’s hand is still inside him and his knuckles are right against his prostate and Jimin feels so good he doesn’t even know what to do with himself. 

His body feels like jelly and at the same time feels like a taut string, like he’ll come again at any second. And he does come again, and again, and again, Yoongi’s hand stretching him wide and his fingers clenching and unclenching inside him. He feels used and claimed and exactly how he wants to feel, and by the fourth orgasm, his cock barely dribbles out any cum at all. 

It’s only then that he begins to come back into himself, at least enough to register that Yoongi’s pulling out very carefully, one finger at a time. He slurs a protest but Yoongi drops lingering kisses over his skin, murmuring gentle praise. Jimin’s only empty for a second before Yoongi’s plugging him back up. He sighs in relief, hips finally dropping to the bed, and reaches blindly behind him. 

Yoongi comes easily, wiping his hand off on one of the towels, curling his body protectively around Jimin. Jimin melts against him, turning his head for a kiss that he can’t maintain but Yoongi gives to him anyway. 

“Good boy,” Yoongi’s murmuring. “Such a good boy.”

❦

The rest of the day and night pass in a haze of sex and sleep. Yoongi forces Jimin to eat a little bit for dinner, then they’re up until the wee hours of the morning as Yoongi fucks him with his hands, his mouth, his cock. Jimin’s delirious by then, can’t get more than a word out, and usually the word is please . He sinks so far into his heat that he doesn’t even think about how tired he is anymore; his mind and body are full of nothing but pure need. 

They doze again that morning, when Jimin’s heat finally settles enough for him to stop begging. He doesn’t wake up until midday, and when he does, he can tell immediately that something’s different. The first thing he notices is how exhausted his body is; he feels like he was run over by a truck, every bit of him sore and aching. The pain alone makes him aware that his heat has started to ease. 

He can’t tell if it’s nearly over, or if this is just another break. He shifts, taking stock of his body, and finds his belly distended from all the cum still locked inside him. The sight makes him absurdly pleased. Yoongi isn’t in bed with him, but he’s too sore to get up. 

“Hyung,” he calls feebly, Yoongi’s absence not sitting right with him. It makes him feel lost and a little afraid, even though logically he knows Yoongi hasn’t gone anywhere. 

Yoongi’s at the doorway in a moment, taking the last bite of a granola bar. “Morning, pup,” he says, climbing onto the bed with Jimin so he can lean down to kiss his forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Not great,” Jimin mumbles. “‘M tired.”

“I know, baby. Can I get you something to eat?”

“Maybe later.”

Yoongi reclines against the headboard, bringing Jimin to rest against him. “How do you feel about a hot bath, hmm? 

“Is the heat over, do you think?”

“I don’t think so. Your scent hasn’t faded enough.”

Jimin sighs, and Yoongi rubs his back in comfort. 

“It’s almost there.”

“A bath does sound nice,” Jimin acquiesces, thinking of the warmth on his sore muscles. 

“Shower first, how’s that? We have to wash all this cum out of you.” Yoongi rests a hand on Jimin’s belly, and Jimin squirms. 

“Do we have to?” There’s the hint of a whine in his voice. 

“Yes,” Yoongi says firmly. “When your heat’s over, you’re gonna hate having all that inside you.”

“I don’t know about that,” Jimin says doubtfully, and Yoongi snorts. 

“Honestly would have thought my dick would be all dried up by now, but I swear you just made it twitch again.”

“Good,” Jimin says smugly. “Okay, I’ll shower. But you have to carry me to the bathroom. And you have to shower with me.”

“Whatever you say, princess.”

Jimin chooses to ignore the jab because Yoongi lifts him up off the bed, and he likes the way it feels to be held. Yoongi sets him down on the toilet lid while he strips off his sweats and turns on the shower. When it’s nice and steamy, Jimin stands up on his own, wobbling on his tired legs, and steps into the shower with him. The hot water on his weary muscles feels like heaven, and he groans, throwing his head back to feel the pleasant drum of water on his face. 

Yoongi’s hands slide over his wet hips, and Jimin startles, eyes opening. The way Yoongi is looking at him makes him flush. 

“You’re so hot, you know that?” he mutters, and he sounds like he’s having a hard time. He noses at Jimin’s scent gland, leaving a few kisses behind. “Fucking unreal.”

“You’re not bad yourself,” Jimin teases, pulling back so he can run his hands down Yoongi’s chest. He pays particular attention to his tattoos, tracing the shape of them, memorizing Yoongi’s body with his fingers. He hears Yoongi sigh quietly and dips his hand lower, stroking his cock lightly. 

Yoongi grabs his wrist in a flash, pulling it away. “Nice try.” He pushes Jimin back under the flow of water. “We’re cleaning you up first.”

“Can’t help it,” Jimin says easily. “I love your cock.”

“Stop,” Yoongi warns. He reaches behind him for Jimin’s shampoo and squeezes a glob onto his palm. 

Not that Jimin doesn’t love it, but all the hair-tugging Yoongi does during sex means his scalp is tender and sensitive. The gentle touch of Yoongi’s fingers as he massages the shampoo into his hair feels so nice that Jimin melts against him, moaning softly. His eyes drift shut as he relishes in the careful pressure of Yoongi’s hands. If he were a cat, he’d be purring, contentment easing all the tension in his body. 

“‘S nice,” Jimin mumbles, gazing at Yoongi through slitted lids as Yoongi’s hands travel down to his nape, scratching lightly. He whines when Yoongi removes his hands to adjust the showerhead, directing it at Jimin’s head. Yoongi runs his hands through Jimin’s hair to rinse out the shampoo, then he moves the showerhead away and pulls out the conditioner next. 

He lathers the conditioner into Jimin’s hair then rinses off his hands, tugging Jimin close so their bodies are flush against each other. “Gonna clean you out now, okay?”

Jimin nods sleepily. He twines his arms around Yoongi’s neck and rests against him, wincing slightly as Yoongi carefully removes the plug in his ass and sets it aside. Immediately, he can feel cum dripping down his thighs and wrinkles his nose at the sensation. Yoongi moves them under the water and dips his fingers inside Jimin’s hole.

He cleans him out thoroughly, one hand massaging Jimin’s belly between them, the other working him open. He’s careful about it, but his fingers brush Jimin’s prostate every now and then, and it feels good. The familiar heat has begun to stir under Jimin’s skin again. He rests his cheek on Yoongi’s shoulder, breathy little noises leaving him as Yoongi fingers him. 

Yoongi kisses his mouth sweetly and pulls his fingers out, reaching for the soap. Lathering it over his hands, he runs it all over Jimin’s body, crouching to reach his legs. Jimin feels a rush of fondness as he looks down at his bowed head, and it’s overwhelming. There’s a lump in his throat. 

Yoongi comes back up and kisses him. Then he rinses him clean and turns off the shower. “Bath time,” Yoongi says, and Jimin hums happily. 

Yoongi wraps him up in a towel before wrapping himself. Jimin settles on the counter to wait while he moves to the bathtub and begins to fill it with warm water. He even drops in a glittery bath bomb. 

“Is that yours?” Jimin says, incredulous. 

“Maybe,” Yoongi sniffs. 

“You are so cute, hyung.”

“Whatever, Park Jimin.” 

Yoongi tests the water with his hand, then nods in satisfaction. They discard their towels and slip into the water, and Jimin sighs as warmth envelops him. Yoongi pulls him between his legs so that his back rests against Yoongi’s chest, winding an arm around his waist. Jimin sighs, relaxing against him, eyes drifting shut. 

“Thank you for taking such good care of me,” Jimin murmurs, lifting one of Yoongi’s hands to kiss his knuckles. He can feel Yoongi smile against his neck, where he’s begun to scent him lightly. 

“Of course, baby.” He presses a kiss to Jimin’s jaw. “Thank you for letting me be a part of it.”

Jimin tilts his head back, searching for a kiss, and Yoongi complies easily. It’s a sweet kiss, gentle presses and soft licks. The heat under Jimin’s skin that had begun when Yoongi was cleaning him is still there, though, and Jimin gives in to the urge to deepen the kiss. He licks into Yoongi’s mouth, sucks on his tongue, grows more aware of the places where their naked bodies touch. He can feel Yoongi’s soft cock against his thigh. 

“Mm, there it is,” Yoongi says when they break apart. He reaches around and takes Jimin’s cock in his hand, thumbing at the slit. Jimin flushes and gasps; he hadn’t even realized he was hard again. He knows it’s because of his heat, but it’s still embarrassing to be so hard after some kissing. “Knew it wasn’t over yet.”

“Hyung,” Jimin whines, turning around to straddle his lap. 

Yoongi runs his thumb along Jimin’s jaw. “You gonna take my cock one more time, angel?” 

“Yes,” Jimin breathes, reaching between them to stroke Yoongi’s cock to hardness. When he’s growing in Jimin’s hand, Jimin lifts himself up so he can position it at his hole. He sinks down slowly, bottoming out with a content sigh. 

Yoongi pulls him in by the nape and kisses him. Jimin grows so lost in the kiss that he forgets to move, too busy keeping up with Yoongi’s tongue, shuddering when Yoongi licks the roof of his mouth. It’s only when Yoongi cups his ass in his hands and thrusts up into him that Jimin remembers how badly he needs to be fucked. 

He breaks away from Yoongi with a gasp, a line of saliva connecting their lips, and rocks his hips in tandem with Yoongi’s. The water splashes around them, dripping off the side of the tub, but neither of them care enough to slow down. Despite Jimin’s need, it’s the last dredges of his heat, so he can feel the ache in his thighs acutely. He gives up on bouncing and presses his chest flush against Yoongi’s, grinding his hips in tight circles instead, moaning as his prostate is consistently stimulated. The surface of the water around him brushes against his skin like a touch.

“Pretty baby,” Yoongi’s murmuring, and a flush rises high on Jimin’s cheeks. “Everything about you is so beautiful, Jiminie, you’re perfect.”

“Hyung,” he breathes, drawing him into another kiss. 

Neither of them can bring themselves to break this one off. One kiss turns into another and then another, Jimin rocking his hips slowly, Yoongi’s hands running over his body. Jimin feels hot and overwhelmed, like every touch is too much, their kisses heavy and full of feeling. There’s a lump in his throat again, and his eyes are burning. 

“Hyung, I - ” Jimin breathes into Yoongi’s mouth, and he finally says what he’s been wanting to say. “I love you.”

Yoongi pulls Jimin back, hand cupping his nape, and for a moment Jimin freezes, worried that he’s too early, that it wasn’t time - 

But then he registers the way Yoongi’s looking at him. His gaze is unspeakably fond, flickering over Jimin’s face, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

“I love you,” Yoongi tells him back, and this time when they kiss, the emotion overflows. 

“I’m c-close,” Jimin stutters, nails digging into Yoongi’s shoulders. 

Yoongi drags his lips down Jimin’s throat, stopping at his scent gland. He kisses his skin lightly. “Mine,” he growls, and Jimin feels it rumble through him. 

Then Yoongi bites. 

His teeth digging into Jimin’s skin send him to the edge. Jimin cries out, arching against him as his orgasm spasms through his body. He’s seeing stars, doesn’t think he’s ever come this hard before - there’s something inexplicably different about this time, and he knows it’s a feeling he’ll only experience once. Yoongi laps over the wound with his tongue, licking away the blood, and Jimin sobs. He wants to slump against him, the edges of his vision still black and spotted, but the urge to mark him in return is even stronger. 

Jimin pulls Yoongi’s head back, baring his throat, and noses down to his scent gland. He takes a deep breath, lashes fluttering, and sinks his teeth into Yoongi’s skin. Yoongi moans, yanking Jimin tighter against him as his knot swells and his cock twitches, spilling his seed inside him. Jimin licks the blood away like Yoongi had, pulling back to admire his work. It’ll take time to scar. 

Jimin realizes, abruptly, that he’s crying. He just feels so full and connected and like he’ll never have to know what it feels like to be alone again, because Yoongi’s heart will forever beat in tandem with his. The emotion is overwhelming, and it takes him a moment to realize that it’s because he can feel what Yoongi’s feeling, too, can feel his share of the love and warmth alongside his own. 

Yoongi’s kissing his tears away, lips brushing over his cheeks and eyes and the corners of his mouth. 

“Mine,” Jimin breathes. “You’re mine.”

Chapter 22

Yoongi isn’t in bed when Jimin comes to, but he isn’t worried. The windows are open, airing out the heady scent of sex and pheromones, and the sheets are clean. Jimin’s still in his robe, and as he shuffles out of bed towards the bathroom, he takes stock of exactly how sore his body really is. Now that he isn’t in a heat-haze, he’s aching everywhere. It isn’t as bad as it could have been, though, given that Yoongi had massaged lotion into his body after they bathed.

He washes up and finds Yoongi in the living room with his laptop, probably catching up on missed work. At the sight of Jimin, Yoongi sets the laptop aside and pats the spot next to him. Jimin settles in happily, curling into his side, his fresh mating bond more satisfied near Yoongi than away. It’s a little surreal to think about; he has a mate now. They’re mated. Marriage only matters for legal purposes; mating is what really matters. 

“Hi,” Yoongi says, and Jimin nuzzles his shoulder.

“Hi,” he mumbles. 

“You hungry?” Yoongi curls a hand through Jimin’s hair. “I got delivery.”

Jimin shifts to look over the couch at the kitchen counter, which is covered in takeout boxes. His mouth waters at the sight, but he isn’t quite ready to move away from Yoongi again. “Later,” he decides. 

“How are you feeling?”

Jimin lets the hint of a whine seep into his voice. “Sore. I think I pulled every muscle in my body.”

“Poor baby,” Yoongi says, kissing Jimin’s cheek. “Should I get you a heating pad?”

That sounds nice, too, but curling up next to Yoongi trumps all. They say the first few weeks after mating are the hardest; most people can’t bear to be away from each other. Jimin’s already dreading their inevitable parting for class and work. “Maybe in a little bit.”

Yoongi runs his down Jimin’s body and pats his ass. There’s a cheeky grin on his face when he speaks. “How’s your ass?”

Jimin huffs. He burrows into Yoongi, so his voice comes out muffled. “Your dick is too big.”

“What’s that?” Yoongi says, and Jimin can hear him grinning harder. “Can’t hear you.”

Jimin unearths himself with another huff. “I said, your dick is too big!”

Yoongi snorts with laughter. “Oh, really, because I thought you liked how big my dick was? I distinctly remember you telling me - ”

“Shut up!” Jimin smacks his shoulder, but Yoongi keeps on laughing. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

“Too late.” Yoongi shifts them around so they’re lying down, Jimin draped over his chest. “Anyway, judging by that box of toys you have, you’re a size queen.”

“I hate you. We’re getting divorced.”

“We’re not married yet, angel.”

“Well, I’m divorcing you in advance!” Jimin can feel the laughter rumble through Yoongi’s chest. Against himself, he smiles, fondness warm in his heart. He traces shapes on Yoongi’s chest idly. “This wasn’t your first time with an omega in heat.”

Yoongi hums. “What makes you say that?”

“You, uh, seemed pretty experienced.” Yoongi had known exactly how to keep Jimin under control, knew when to satisfy him and when to keep him at bay. He’d taken perfect care of him. Jimin’s always been needy even outside a heat, and no one’s ever kept up with him as well as Yoongi has. 

“I’ve helped with some heats before,” Yoongi admits. “An ex when I was in university, and a few people over the years that were just, uh, sex partners.”

He sounds so awkward about it that Jimin’s endeared. He grins. “I’m not going to eat you, I’m just curious.”

“I dunno, you seem like the jealous type,” Yoongi teases, and Jimin cranes his neck up to glare. 

“Says you .”

“I don’t get jealous.”

“You get jealous every time I’m in the proximity of another alpha. You scented me before we were even friends because of it.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Yoongi grumbles. “What about you? I know this was your first real heat, but have you ever spent an alpha’s rut with them?”

“Once, when I first started university. We weren’t dating. I didn’t really like it.”

Yoongi’s emotions sharpen at that. Jimin’s surprised at the intensity with which he can sense the spike - another symptom of their new bond. “You didn’t?” Yoongi says carefully, but Jimin understands what he’s wondering.

“Nothing like that,” he says, patting Yoongi’s arm. “I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to. But I think it would have been better if we were dating.”

“Ruts are hard.”

“Too much sex to have with someone I didn’t love,” he says. “Hoseok hyung used to prefer it that way, but I think it was a little weird for me.”

“You don’t have to spend my ruts with me,” Yoongi’s quick to say. “If you never want to, that’s fine with me.”

“No, it’s different with you. I - ”

He stops abruptly, flush heating his skin. It’d been easy to say it after they’d bonded, after three days of feeling like Yoongi was his whole world. He still feels the same way - that hasn’t changed. But admitting it makes him far shyer than before. 

Yoongi tilts Jimin’s head up to look at him. His gaze is gentle. “Did you mean it?” he asks. “When you said you loved me.”

Jimin’s cheeks flame. “Of course,” he breathes. “Did you?”

“Of course,” Yoongi echoes, and Jimin leans in to kiss him, warmth blooming in his heart. 

He rests his chin on Yoongi’s chest when they break apart, staring at the mating mark on his neck. It’s red and puffy. “Does it hurt?” he asks quietly, reaching up to run his finger around it.

“Just a little. Does yours?”

“A little,” Jimin agrees. 

A high-pitched meow announces Haru’s arrival. She jumps right onto the couch with them, walking onto Jimin’s back. Jimin grunts, but she ignores him, kneading his fluffy robe. 

“Hi, Haru,” he mutters. “Did you miss me?”

She meows. Yoongi reaches over to pet her, and she settles down comfortably on Jimin’s back. He can feel her purring. 

“Just curious,” Jimin starts, a little hesitant. “But when did you, um, realize you liked me? We were kind of at each other’s throats for a while.”

Yoongi hums, carding his fingers through Jimin’s hair. He doesn’t think for too long. “When we had lunch at your grandmother’s,” he decides. “I was in pretty heavy denial for a while, so I don’t think I realized it at the time. But looking back on it, that’s when everything started.”

“That early?” Jimin glances up at him in surprise. He remembers the day well enough; mostly he remembers how well Yoongi and his grandmother had gotten along. “That was so long ago. Why then?”

“It was the first time I got to really see you with your guard down.” Yoongi’s lips twist, gaze faraway as he remembers. “First time I got to see where you came from. I was, uh - ” He pauses, and his smile turns rueful. “I was jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“You and your grandmother were clearly so close. Your home was so full of you - your presence was everywhere. I’ve never had anything like that.”

Jimin rubs Yoongi’s side in comfort. 

“What about you?” Yoongi asks. “When did you realize?”

“After the kidnapping.” It’s still just as difficult to remember the incident as it was in the days that immediately followed; time has not eased the pain. “We finally started talking, and you were so nice, and your scent felt like such a comfort.”

“Yeah?”

“I always thought you were hot though,” Jimin says, just to lighten the weight of their conversation. He might be more open than Yoongi, but Jimin has never enjoyed talking about his feelings. 

Yoongi’s answer is smug. “Of course you did.”

“Shut up.” Haru yowls, and Jimin grins. “See, even she agrees.”

“Or maybe she’s agreeing with me,” Yoongi counters, and Jimin sticks his tongue out. “Your grandmother called and gave me a talking-to when you moved in, you know that?”

Jimin groans. “What’d she say?”

“Well.” Yoongi shifts around, making himself comfortable. He wraps an arm around Jimin’s waist. “She talked to me about a lot of things. She said that humanity is a choice, and growing up like she and I did doesn’t change that fact. And that it took her a long time to figure it out and I’m lucky I have her to remind me that I can never blame who I am on anyone but myself.”

Jimin winces. “Sorry. She’s harsh.”

“She is,” he agrees. “But she was also right. She also told me I’m lucky that the universe has given me someone as good as you, and that not opening myself up to that goodness would be ungrateful.”

Jimin’s cheeks flame with sudden heat. He swallows harshly, feeling abruptly like he might cry. “Oh.”

“She thinks very highly of you, and she’s right to.”

“You’re good, too,” Jimin insists, voice watery. 

“Sometimes,” Yoongi allows. “To the people I love. But you’re good to everyone.”

Jimin hides his face in Yoongi’s chest, wondering how they’ve developed such a misconception of him. He feels vaguely like a fraud, like he can’t possibly be as good as they think he is. Like one day he’ll betray that trust.

“Can we change the subject?” Jimin mumbles, half-muffled by Yoongi’s shirt.

“No,” Yoongi says, his tone wicked. “I’ve met your grandmother quite a few times since then.”

“What!” Jimin exclaims, unearthing himself. “She never told me.”

“She didn’t want you to know. Said you’d think she was meddling.”

“She does like to meddle.”

“I’ve noticed.”

Jimin squints at him. “Is she nice to you?”

Yoongi grins. “She’s great, Jimin-ah. Sometimes she’s very mean. But mostly she’s great.”

“Oh my god. I’m sorry about whatever she’s said.”

“Everything she says is something I need to hear,” he says wryly. “But really, I’m grateful that she’s given me so much of her time. It’s nice to have someone to talk to about business and the clans who isn’t thinking about their profit or power the entire time.”

“Well, she’s your grandmother now, too. Since we’re getting married and all.”

“I guess she is.” Yoongi looks pleased at the thought, and Jimin’s unbearably fond. “Speaking of marriage, we need to get started on your tattoo. We’re running late.”

“Oh, yeah. Your clan has a tattoo artist, right?”

“She’s already expecting you. We just have to find time.”

Jimin nods. “Then we’d better get it done fast. It’s going to take a few sessions.”

Yoongi raises his eyebrows. “Oh, yeah? You want a big one?”

“On my back. Just like you suggested.”

Yoongi splutters a cough, and Jimin grins. “You’re getting it there? For real? Are you sure?”

“Yup. Big dragon on my back, as per your request.”

“Fuck.”

Jimin pats his chest in faux sympathy. “No missionary for a couple of months.”

“Park Jimin,” Yoongi groans. “You’re a menace.”

❦

The day Yoongi and Jimin get married, Jimin can feel their combined nervousness mingling through the mating bond. 

They’re nervous while they sign the papers, their parents in attendance. They’re nervous while Jimin gets the last touches on his tattoo, which now runs from his tailbone to his nape, stopping just under his own clan’s tiger. They’re nervous while they prepare for the dinner, and they’re nervous when the first knock sounds on their penthouse door. 

But just before Jimin turns to get it, Yoongi grabs him by the wrist and pulls him back. “Hey,” Yoongi says, and he positively glows in the candlelight they’ve set up around the apartment. 

“Yeah?” 

“I love you.” 

Yoongi kisses him, and Jimin’s nervousness melts into pure joy. He smiles into the kiss, giving himself over to Yoongi’s embrace, and wonders what the hell they’ve been so nervous for. It’s a big deal, getting married, and they’ve gone through so much to get here. But now they can finally breathe. They don’t have to be nervous anymore.

Yoongi rests his hands on Jimin’s waist, careful not to touch his back. He breaks away from the kiss, pressing their foreheads together. 

“I love you, too,” Jimin murmurs. There’s another knock on the door. 

“Should probably get that,” Yoongi sighs, and Jimin can’t feel his nervousness through the bond anymore, either. 

The first guests to arrive are Hoseok and Jungkook, just as Jimin expected. Hoseok is never late to anything. Jihyun and their grandmother are next; Jihyun asks where the food is as soon as he walks in. Last to arrive are Wonho and Hyunwoo, relieved from guard duty for the day to celebrate with them. After everything they’ve been through together, Jimin feels connected to them. 

Yoongi and Jimin had invited their parents out of politeness, but to their relief, both sets declined. They were going to save the festivities for the “real” wedding, the lavish affair that would take place the following weekend. Jimin’s excited about his pretty outfit, but other than that, neither of them are looking forward to it. 

“Food, food, food,” Jihyun chants lightly, coming up behind Jimin in the kitchen, the light murmur of conversation floating in from the living room. He rests his chin on Jimin’s head, flaunting his height like he always does. Jimin shoves him away before he can hug him. 

“Tattoo,” Jimin hisses. 

“Oh, right,” Jihyun says, not sounding particularly apologetic as he circles the counter full of covered dishes. Yoongi and Jimin had cooked everything themselves, and his grandmother had brought a dish to share.

“You’re only here for the food, aren’t you?” Jimin huffs. “Don’t even care about your big brother getting married - ”

“Yup.” Jihyun finds a fork from somewhere and steals a bite of meat. “And technically, you’re already married now.”

Jimin wants to keep teasing, but he’s thrown off by the reminder. He’s married now. Yoongi’s his mate and his husband . 

“Oh my god,” Jihyun mutters. “Can you get that dopey look off your face? I’m trying to eat.”

Jimin flings a napkin at him. 

“Hey, baby, we ready to serve?” Yoongi joins them in the kitchen, resting a hand on Jimin’s waist. It’s instinct now - whenever they’re near each other, they find a way to touch. 

“Please,” Jihyun says. “I’m hungry.”

“Stop whining,” Jimin mutters. “Just for that, we’re delaying dinner.”

Yoongi shoots him a look. “I’m hungry, too.”

“Okay, let’s serve,” Jimin announces, grinning when Jihyun and Yoongi both raise their eyebrows at him. “Anything for my husband .”

“Gross,” Jihyun says as Yoongi leans in to kiss Jimin’s cheek. 

“Make yourself useful,” Yoongi tells Jihyun, pointing at the dishes on the counter. 

He picks one up himself and moves it over to the dining table that they never use; it sits in the space connected to the kitchen. They’d added another leaf to it to make room for all their guests. Jimin had set the table earlier, arranging the napkins and candles neatly. 

“This is going to be weird,” Jihyun muses as they carry the dishes of food back and forth. “Sitting in meetings with a brother-in-law.”

Yoongi snorts. “Finish university first, then talk to me about meetings.”

“Hey!” 

Jimin winks and gives Yoongi a thumbs-up. 

“Come eat,” Jimin calls into the living room, and everyone starts to shuffle in. He pours wine for each of them before taking his seat next to Yoongi. 

“Looks good,” his grandmother notes. “Must be Yoongi’s work.”

“I helped,” Jimin complains, but of course, she ignores him. Yoongi pats his knee under the table. 

“Okay, let’s eat,” Yoongi says, getting up to serve Jimin’s grandmother the first plate.

“What, no toast?” Hoseok demands. “No words from the happy couple?”

“Thanks for coming. Start eating.” Jimin raises his glass of wine then downs it in one go. Yoongi refills it while he’s up. 

Hoseok scoffs. “And he says I’m the one who hates feelings.”

“You kind of do,” Jungkook agrees, to which he receives a betrayed look. 

The praise for the food begins as soon as everyone starts eating. Jimin and Yoongi had spent the past two days in the kitchen in preparation. Originally, they’d wanted their wedding get-together to be simple. But once they’d started planning, it had gotten out of hand. Yoongi had a bone to pick with Jimin’s grandmother, who kept doubting his cooking skills. Jimin wanted to prove to Hoseok that he could actually get his shit together and keep an apartment looking nice and polished. 

So they’d cooked and cleaned and decorated, and they’re both rather proud of how everything has turned out. Jimin can feel contentment rolling off Yoongi in waves throughout the dinner. Two glasses of wine in and Jimin’s all restless for Yoongi’s attention, so he keeps complaining about how much his back hurts. By now, Yoongi knows Jimin too well to fall for any of his ploys. 

“You’re the one who wanted a giant tattoo,” Yoongi says, and Jimin huffs. 

“It was your idea.”

Yoongi picks up a piece of pickled cucumber with his chopsticks and shoves it into Jimin’s mouth to shut him up. 

After they’ve stuffed themselves full of dinner, Jimin and Yoongi clear the table and bring out dessert. The credit for the cake goes to Hyunwoo, who apparently has a secret baking hobby that even Wonho hadn’t known about. It’s a large, pretty thing, covered in delicate swirls of meringue. Before Jimin can cut the first slice for his grandmother, Hoseok raises his glass and clears his throat. 

“Oh no,” Jimin mutters under his breath. Hoseok’s clearly tipsy, flushed red and eyes glassy. 

“I have something to say,” he announces. 

“Hyung, don’t embarrass me.”

“Shut up.” Hoseok stands up, chair scraping against the floor, and clears his throat again. “Park Jimin and I have been best friends since middle school, when he had a bowl cut and was so tiny you could put him in your pocket.”

Next to Jimin, Yoongi snorts quietly. Jimin nudges him. 

“He was so cute back then. He’s still cute, but now he’s too feisty, you know? Back then he just followed me around like a little puppy. And he had these baby cheeks, you remember those, Grandma? His cheeks were so cute.”

“Get on with it,” Jimin groans.

“I take it back, he’s not cute anymore,” Hoseok huffs. “Anyway. We’ve been through a lot together. A lot of shit. But we made it - you made it, Jimin-ah, even though I know you didn’t think you would.” He sobers, eyes a little red, as he glances down at the table in thought. “We’ve come a long way from the day you told me you were getting married, and we spent the entire time wondering if Min Yoongi was 35 years old.”

Jimin chokes a laugh. 

“I’m proud of you, Park Jimin. You have always been so strong and brave and determined - ” Hoseok’s voice wobbles, and Jungkook pats his back. “I really love you, Jiminie, and I’m so happy to have you in my life. I hope we go for a long, long time.”

Jimin blows him a kiss. Hoseok catches it and puts it in his pocket. 

“Oh, and I know you keep saying you’re gonna wait ten years or whatever to have a baby, but I’m pretty sure you guys won’t last that long. So hopefully I get to be an uncle soon.” He grins, and there are a few noises of agreement. “Let’s take bets. I say two years.”

“Hyung!” Jimin exclaims, scandalized. 

“I say one,” Wonho replies solemnly, earning another scandalized exclamation from Jimin. 

“Okay, speech over!” Jimin waves at Hoseok to sit down. “That’s enough, thanks, I want cake.”

Hoseok finally sits, and Jimin picks the knife back up. He’s seconds from making the first slice when Hoseok hops right back up. “Oh! I almost forgot. Yoongi hyung, I might know you and possibly like you now, but if you make Jimin cry, I’ll still fuck you up.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Yeah, yeah, I’m very intimidated.”

Hoseok sits down again, and Jimin presses the knife through the first layer of cream. Then he pauses. “Oh, I have something to say, too,” he realizes, turning to Hyunwoo and Wonho. “I wanted to say thank you. Without Hyunwoo hyung and Wonho hyung, we wouldn’t have even made it here. You guys are the reason we can be so happy today. So thank you.”

They both wave him off, Hyunwoo looking bashful and Wonho’s ears reddening. “I hope we won’t have to keep a pack of tissues around for Jimin anymore,” Wonho says, looking pointedly at Yoongi, who takes the warning in stride. 

“Only if he has a cold,” Yoongi allows, and Wonho looks satisfied. 

“Okay. Cake.” Jimin returns to the task at hand. 

“Wait,” Jimin’s grandmother announces. 

“We’re never gonna get cake,” Jihyun grumbles, and she shoots him a look.

“I wanted to say I’m very proud of you both,” she says to Jimin and Yoongi. “You know I never say that lightly, so treasure those words.”

They mumble their thanks, both of them feeling rather embarrassed. She really isn’t one to praise lightly, so it almost feels like too much. 

“You know, I should be getting some thanks here,” says Jihyun, and Jimin’s rolling his eyes before he can even finish. “I’m the one who told our parents to pick Yoongi hyung, after all.”

“Thanks, congrats, you chose well, can we move on now?” Jimin huffs. 

“Does anyone have anything else to say?” Yoongi says, staring the table down. When no one offers any words, he gives Jimin the go-ahead to finally cut the first slice of cake.

“I should probably say something,” Jungkook muses as Jimin and Yoongi pass slices to everyone. “As Yoongi hyung’s best friend.”

“Save it,” Yoongi mutters. “And who said you were my best friend, huh? You’re just the annoying brat who won’t stop following me around.”

Jungkook isn’t the slightest bit fazed, grinning like he’s received a compliment. “I know you’re overwhelmed by emotion, hyung, I understand.”

“Be quiet.”

When Jimin and Yoongi finally sit, Jimin takes the first bite of his cake and widens his eyes in amazement. “Hyung, this is so good!” he calls to Hyunwoo, who smiles at the praise. “There’s no way the other wedding cake will beat this.”

“You ever considered opening a bakery?” Jimin’s grandmother says conversationally. 

“Uh, no.” Hyunwoo looks shy at being directly addressed by her. Jimin always forgets that she’s something of a legend among their clans. “I just do it for fun.”

“Well, if you ever get tired of the clan life, consider it. I have some connections if you’re looking to lease a shop.”

“She might have left the business, but the business never left her,” Yoongi comments under his breath, and Jimin laughs ruefully. 

Everyone’s had a little too much wine by the time they finish dessert, but Jimin pours them more anyway. They move to the living room, separating comfortably to chat amongst themselves. Jimin curls up against Yoongi’s side gingerly, careful of his sore back. Yoongi takes his hand in his, playing with his smaller fingers, and Jimin can feel how happy he is through their bond. He’d never thought Yoongi could be so happy. He’d never thought he could be so happy, either. 

“Hey.” Yoongi’s voice is quiet enough that only he can hear it. He hums to show he’s listening. “I have a pre-cake cutting toast for you, too.”

“It’s a little late for that, hyung.”

“I know.” Yoongi twines their fingers together, and Jimin can feel his warm breath tickle his hair. “I saved it just for you.”

“I’m listening.”

“Thank you for helping me remember what it feels like to be a person again.”

Heat rushes to Jimin’s face. The lump that rises in his throat is painful, and his eyes fill with tears before he can stop them. He looks up, and the way Yoongi’s gazing down at him - fond, soft, full of love - has the tears overflowing. 

“I love you,” he breathes, and arches up to kiss him. 

Notes:

and she's over!!! thank you very much to everyone who made it this far and followed and supported the fic, you guys are the best T_T thank you to those of you who left me such kind comments throughout, they were much appreciated. shoutout to cat aka chiminnies on ao3 for beta-ing this monster of a fic and giving me so much feedback and help from start to finish, ur a real life angel cat ;;_;; i rlly don't even have the words to thank you.

♡♡♡