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“Jimin, if I have to hear you mention that alpha one more time, I’m gonna have you banished.”
“You hate me so bad.”
“At this very moment, yeah.”
Jimin rolls from his very comfortable spot at the foot of the bed to glare at his best friend, Taehyung. The other, despite his harsh words, grins at him from ear to ear, scent radiating happiness from where he’s perched against the headboard. Jimin throws a beautifully ornate pillow right at his head.
“You hate seeing me happy.”
Taehyung rolls his eyes and crawls over to Jimin, plopping down right on top of him and sticking his nose against Jimin’s scent gland. “Shut up,” he mumbles into the crook of Jimin’s neck.
Jimin giggles and swats him away, the other omega’s breath tickling his sensitive neck.
“I just wish you’d go ahead and court him to save us all from an earful,” Taehyung says, moving back to his spot at the headboard.
“Who’s ‘us all’? You’ve got like two friends.”
Taehyung’s mouth falls agape.
“I have very many friends, thank you very much. A plentiful number of friends, if you will,” he continues despite the roll of Jimin’s eyes.
“I was talking about me and my sanity. Everytime I hear ‘ Alpha Min did this thing with his tongue’ and ‘Alpha Min just has the most amazing scent ,’” he mocks, pitching his voice higher, “it makes me want to throw up and die.”
“I do not sound like that!”
“If you just courted him, then the world would be a better place. The sun would shine a little bit brighter and the birds would sing their beautiful little—”
He’s cut off by another pillow to the face.
“I can’t just go out and court an alpha, Tae. Things may be progressing socially, but I don’t think we’re at the point where a high-born alpha like him could very well say yes to a low-born omega propositioning him for lifelong devotion.”
He dramatically falls onto his back and smacks one of Taehyung’s millions of pillows against his face.
“Aww, come on, Minnie,” Jimin hears Taehyung say through the muffle of the pillow. “It wouldn’t hurt to ask him, you know?”
The other omega’s voice is softer, the joking tone from earlier now gone and replaced by a more serious one.
“I would die if he said no, Tae,” he says, words muddled.
Somehow Taehyung seems to understand him just fine, removing the pillow from his best friend’s face and frowning down at him.
“But that’s if he says no! What if he says yes?”
Jimin flushes at the thought.
Imagining the scenario sets his nerves on fire, his wolf almost prancing inside him at the idea of having a mate to call their own. At nearly twenty-five winters, Jimin is rapidly approaching the age where he must settle down and choose a mate. In his pack and surrounding ones, it’s uncommon to wait for the elusive true mate. The old wives' tales he heard growing up spoke of those who found their true mate, where a fierce connection sparked through their bodies and wolves before a mating bond even formed. Some claimed it happened at first glance, that a whiff of the other's scent drove them to the brink of madness, or that a single touch would set their skin aflame.
Jimin has heard these tales since he was a pup, a yearning for that deep connection with a true mate ingrained in his heart. But as he grew older, he came to realize those stories told around the campfire were just that—tales. In the reality he faces, true mates aren’t in the cards for someone like him.
Since his parents’ untimely death almost eight winters ago, Jimin has been solely focused on keeping himself and his younger alpha brother afloat. He’s worked tirelessly to raise his brother and to pay off the debts his parents left behind.
Finding his true mate was no longer a feasible option. Not when he’s nearing the edge of his biological clock as a male omega. The expectation is clear: he must find a suitable mate, one who can provide for him and help raise a family, even if it's not born of true love.
But the thing is, Jimin’s already in love.
Once every season, the Jeon Pack sends emissaries to the Kim Clan to negotiate trade opportunities, resolve border disputes, and address any issues that might impact both packs. Among the wolves in the Jeon delegation is Alpha Min Yoongi, the trusted representative of the Jeon Pack’s heir.
Jimin first met him on a crisp autumn evening two winters ago. The omega had been down by the river, completing his chores. The sun was dipping low in the sky, casting long shadows over the landscape through the trees, and the air had begun to carry the unmistakable chill of the approaching night.
He was almost finished, sitting on his favorite smooth, sun-warmed rock, taking a moment to breathe in the crisp, clean air before tackling the last few garments. The world around him was quiet, save for the gentle splashing of the river and the occasional rustle of leaves.
Then, out of nowhere, an unfamiliar scent drifted through the air—a scent unlike any he had encountered before. Goosebumps rose on his skin as his senses went on high alert. His head snapped toward the trees lining the river, his eyes searching for the source of the scent. Emerging from the dense foliage was a man he didn’t recognize—an alpha.
Fear surged through Jimin’s body, rooting him to the spot. His usual scent, a delicate blend of honeysuckle and verbena, wavered, becoming faint as anxiety took hold. This wasn’t just any alpha; this was someone new, someone potentially dangerous—a possible rogue. Jimin’s heart raced as he tried to make sense of the situation.
The alpha, who had been walking with an air of relaxed confidence, suddenly halted as the wind carried Jimin’s scent to him. He turned sharply in Jimin’s direction, his surprise evident. His cat-like eyes widened in shock, and his eyebrows shot up as he spotted Jimin near the river’s edge. It was clear from his expression that he hadn’t expected to find anyone here, especially not at this hour, and certainly not an omega.
For a moment, the two of them simply stared at each other, the only sounds the soft gurgle of the river and the distant call of a bird. Jimin’s breath caught in his throat as he tried to gauge the alpha’s intentions. The man’s presence was commanding, yet there was something about him that Jimin couldn’t quite place—an air of quiet authority tempered by an underlying calm that set him apart from the more boisterous alphas in his own pack.
As the moment stretched on, Jimin’s instincts told him to flee, to abandon the garments and return to the safety of his pack. Yet, something in the alpha’s gaze held him in place, a silent understanding passing between them in the stillness of the evening. It was as if the river itself had stilled in anticipation, waiting to see what would happen next.
The alpha, despite his initially imposing appearance, made no move to approach Jimin. Instead, he seemed to assess the situation carefully, his expression softening as he realized he had unintentionally frightened the omega. He let out a slow breath, his shoulders relaxing from their earlier tension, and took a small step back, a gesture meant to put Jimin at ease.
"I'm sorry," the alpha spoke, his voice a deep, soothing rumble that carried easily over the quiet river. "I didn’t realize anyone else would be here."
Jimin remained still, his heart still racing but the fear that had gripped him moments ago began to ebb away. There was something in the alpha’s tone, genuine and apologetic, that eased the tension in his chest, assuring him that he was not a threat.
As the alpha remained at a respectful distance, Jimin caught another whiff of his scent—warm, rich, and comforting, cocoa with a hint of cinnamon. The scent wrapped around Jimin, making his senses hum in a way that was unfamiliar yet not unpleasant. It was a scent that spoke of warmth and safety, a welcome reprieve in the chill of the evening air.
The alpha’s gaze remained kind as he offered a small, almost shy smile. "I didn’t mean to intrude on your time here. I’ll go if you’d prefer to be alone."
Jimin, still perched on his rock, found himself momentarily at a loss for words. The alpha was undeniably handsome, with sharp features softened by the evening light. His feline eyes, though intense, held a quiet depth that made it difficult for Jimin to look away. The omega could feel his cheeks warming, a flush spreading across his skin, not from fear this time, but from the way his wolf was oddly entranced with the stranger.
"You don’t have to go," Jimin finally managed to say. "I—I was just finishing up anyway."
The alpha nodded, his small smile widening just a touch. Without another word, he moved closer to the water’s edge, his steps unhurried. Jimin watched as the alpha crouched down by the riverbank, his movements fluid and graceful. The evening light cast a soft glow on his features, highlighting the calm that seemed to radiate from him.
The alpha reached out and cupped a handful of the cool water, bringing it to his lips in one smooth motion as Jimin observed him. There was something mesmerizing about the way the alpha interacted with the world around him—quiet, with a kind of ease that Jimin found both intriguing and soothing.
The alpha’s eyes flicked up to meet Jimin’s as he drank, and for a moment, their gazes locked. Jimin felt his breath catch in his throat. The warm scent of cocoa and cinnamon drifted toward him again, mingling with the crisp evening air and enveloping him in a sense of calm.
He finished drinking, letting the last drops of water slip through his fingers before wiping his hand on his pant leg.
“It’s beautiful here,” he said, breaking the silence, his gaze never leaving Jimin’s face.
Jimin nodded as he began to stand, his blush deepening as he responded. "It is. That’s why I like coming here, especially when I need to clear my head."
The alpha took a small step forward, his posture relaxed and unthreatening. "I’m Yoongi," he offered, his voice warm and inviting, as if he were sharing a secret.
“Jimin.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke, the gentle sounds of the river continuing to flow around them. Jimin’s gaze lingered on Yoongi’s face, taking in the subtle details—the slight curve of his lips, the way his eyes softened when they met his own.
Yoongi shifted slightly, the movement drawing Jimin’s attention back to those cat-like eyes that held a warmth he hadn’t expected. "It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jimin.”
There was something in the way he said Jimin’s name that made it sound special, as if it was a name he would remember long after this moment.
After that, whenever the delegate from the Jeon Pack came to visit, Jimin and Yoongi found themselves drawn back to the riverbank. With each encounter, their conversations grew deeper, the initial shyness giving way to a comfortable familiarity. They would sit by the water’s edge, sometimes in silence, sometimes sharing stories about their lives.
As the seasons passed, their connection grew stronger. The glances they exchanged became longer, the touches more lingering, eventually turning into moments of passion—Jimin losing his sanctity to Yoongi’s touch.
He found himself looking forward to Yoongi’s visits with an eagerness he hadn’t known he could feel, his heart racing each time he saw the alpha’s familiar silhouette emerging from the trees.
And though neither spoke the words out loud, both knew that something significant was blossoming between them—a growing affection that was becoming harder to ignore.
Sure, Jimin had given up hoping to find his true mate, resigning himself to a life where love was secondary to obligation. But Yoongi had changed everything. He was different—someone who made Jimin believe that maybe, just maybe, there was something more out there for him.
“If he says yes, then we’ll have to see from there. But that’s if I ask.”
“You’re too stubborn, Min,” Taehyung admonishes. “Why can’t you just let yourself be happy?”
Jimin sits up and throws his legs off the edge of the bed, turning his back to his friend as the cool bite of winter stings the bottom of his feet on the stone.
“C’mon, Tae. If we’re late for receiving the guests the Head Alpha will threaten to skin me again.”
“Alright, but this isn’t over,” Taehyung says as he stands, straightening the clothes Jimin had ironed for him just that morning. “Just think about what I said, okay? You know I’ll support you with whatever you decide.”
Jimin turns to face his best friend, a fond smile spreading across his face. He steps forward, wrapping an arm around Taehyung’s neck and pulling him into a hug. Jimin buries his nose into the scent gland at the base of Taehyung’s neck, inhaling the familiar and comforting scent of chamomile and cardamom.
“I know,” Jimin murmurs.
For all the things that have gone wrong in his life, Jimin’s grateful for the fortune of having Taehyung by his side. Since he began his position as the omega heir’s personal attendant five winters ago, Taehyung had taken him under his wing. Over time, their relationship had grown from one of duty to a genuine friendship, with Taehyung bringing a much-needed sense of positivity to Jimin’s life.
A knock at the door breaks them apart, and Jimin swats at Taehyung playfully, urging him to put on his shoes and furs. Jimin moves to open the door after putting on his own, already anticipating who would be on the other side. As expected, Namjoon stands there, Taehyung’s personal guard, ready to escort them across the pack grounds to the reception hall.
“Just a second, Alpha Kim,” Jimin bows in greeting. “He’s almost ready.”
“No worries, Jimin.” Namjoon bows back, a smile tugging at his lips. “When will you stop calling me that? I’ve told you a million times to just call me Namjoon.”
Jimin blushes.
“I’m sorry, it’s a habit.”
“What’s a habit?” Taehyung asks, appearing behind Jimin, who turns to tighten the tie on Taehyung’s furs.
“He keeps calling me Alpha Kim,” Namjoon complains with a playful grin. “You’ve known me since childhood.”
“But it’s different now that you’re a part of the Guard.”
Namjoon scoffs, clearly unconvinced. “Yeah, sure. Guard or not, I’m still the same Namjoon.”
Taehyung cuts in, ever dramatic. “Ya! If being in the Guard makes him special, what does that make me? You don’t call me Omega!”
As they step outside, the cold bites at Jimin’s exposed skin, prompting him to lift the hood of his furs. He regrets not repairing his mittens from last winter, the frigid air making his fingers feel like ice as he burrows his hands deeper into the warmth of his coat.
“Tae, I called you that to your face one time and you gagged and told me to never do it again.”
“Yeah, you’re onto something there… I wish everyone else would get the memo, too.”
“Good luck with that one,” Jimin giggles.
“Everybody respects you too much to drop your title,” Namjoon chuckles. “Calling you Omega Taehyung’s the best you’re probably going to get.”
“Respect is so overrated.” Taehyung groans obnoxiously, tossing his head back.
Jimin smiles at his best friend's obvious disdain for formality. “Just wait until you’re Head Omega, Tae,” he says, side-stepping to avoid a couple of pups playing tag. “Then it’ll be ‘Head Omega Kim’ or nothing. Your wayward days will be long gone.”
Taehyung’s groan only intensifies. “Don’t remind me.”
Namjoon stifles a laugh behind his gloved hand, his eyes crinkling in amusement. “You’re never going to escape it, you know.”
“Ugh, I know,” Taehyung sighs dramatically. “But I’ll make it my personal mission to remind everyone of my disdain for titles until they finally break down and just call me ‘Taehyung’ like I’m a normal person.”
“Well, if anyone can pull it off, it’s you.”
“Damn right.” Taehyung flashes a grin, shaking snow off his hood before muttering, “But honestly, I might lose my mind if one more person calls me ‘Omega Kim.’”
As they make their way across the grounds, the Kim Clan members bustle around them, busy with final preparations for the arrival of the Jeon delegation. The air hums with excitement—the Winter Solstice Festival only happens once every ten winters, and the significance weighs on everyone. Taehyung’s eyes flit between the workers and the decorations, wrinkling his nose as another gust of icy wind hits.
“You’d think they’d tone down the decorations. It’s not like the Jeons don’t know what winter looks like,” Taehyung grumbles, pulling his furs tighter around his shoulders.
Jimin chuckles, though his mind wanders back to the last time they’d hosted the Solstice Festival. It had been different then—simpler, warmer. He remembers his family gathered around the fire, the smell of roasted meat filling the air, the joy that seemed to radiate from every corner of the celebration. His parents had been there, his brother by his side, and the memory pulls at something deep within him.
“Ugh, why did I agree to this?” Taehyung huffs, a cloudy puff of air shooting out of his mouth before he tucks his reddening nose into his furs. “The Jeons have done just fine without me every time they’ve come before.”
“The Head Alpha didn’t really make it seem like something you could pass up this time, Tae.”
Taehyung burrows deeper into his furs, as if trying to disappear. He’s always been one to avoid the heavy political responsibilities that come with his role as heir, something his parents have been lenient about—until now, it seems.
“Yeah, well, maybe next time I’ll fake a cold or something,” Taehyung’s muffled voice sounds.
Jimin chuckles, shaking his head. “Good luck with that. The Head Alpha knows you too well.”
“Rumor has it the heir will be attending this time,” Namjoon says, casually parting a group of people standing in their path so they can pass.
Taehyung’s eyes widen, interest sparking as he removes the remaining half of his face from his furs. “Wait, really? The Alpha Jeon Jeongguk is actually showing up?”
Namjoon nods. “I heard he’s finally taking over the rest of his brother’s duties.”
Jimin recalls the few times Yoongi had mentioned Jeongguk, but the details were always vague. Yoongi had spoken of Jeongguk stepping into the role of heir after his older brother’s passing two winters ago. Since then, Jeongguk has been learning the ropes, gradually taking on leadership responsibilities. During that time, Yoongi had taken on the duty of handling most of the political meetings with the Kim Clan, allowing for Jeongguk to focus on matters at home.
It made sense that Jeongguk would finally be stepping up now, either to fully take over his brother’s duties or perhaps just be part of the Winter Solstice festivities. Jimin couldn’t help but wonder what kind of leader Jeongguk would be. Yoongi had spoken of him with quiet respect, mentioning how Jeongguk’s reserved demeanor had driven him to work harder to earn the acceptance of his pack following the change in succession.
“About time!” Taehyung says with a smirk. “I’ve been hearing about this guy for ages. And from what I’ve been told, he’s supposed to be quite the looker.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively, clearly enjoying himself. “You know, tall, broad shoulders… handsome in all the right places.”
Jimin rolls his eyes but can’t help the smile tugging at his lips. “You can’t go five minutes without bringing up a knot, can you?”
“Ooh, I know the pot is not talking to the kettle right now! You are the world’s worst at going on and on about Alpha Min’s co—”
Jimin slaps his hand over Taehyung’s mouth, his face heating up. “Aaand we’re here,” he announces, a bit too loudly, as they reach the gathering hall.
Namjoon opens the door for them and tries to muffle his snort. “Best behavior, you two.”
As they step into the grand hall, Jimin’s gaze is immediately drawn to Taehyung’s parents at the center of the room. Head Alpha Kim stands tall, an imposing figure before his attendants and council members. But as his eyes catch sight of Taehyung, a warm smile breaks across his face, softening his features.
“Finally made it!” the Head Alpha calls out, arms wide open. Taehyung rushes forward, embracing his father in a tight hug.
“Nice of you to finally join us, son,” Head Alpha Kim chuckles, ruffling Taehyung’s hair affectionately.
“Sorry, I had some important decisions to make about my outfit,” Taehyung replies with a mock-serious tone, glancing down at his furs. “You know how it is.”
“Important decisions indeed,” the Head Alpha teases, his gaze shifting to Jimin. “Good to see you, Jimin. You’re looking well.”
Jimin folds his hands behind his back and bows, biting his lip to suppress a wave of guilt for his complicity in Taehyung’s tardiness. “Thank you, Head Alpha Kim.”
The Head Omega, a picture of elegance in luxurious furs, approaches with a warm smile. He’s engaged in a quiet conversation with one of his attendants but soon shifts his focus to Taehyung, gently fussing with his son’s hair, which is tousled from the hood of his furs.
“They’ll be here any moment now,” the Head Omega says, tilting his head slightly. “You look a mess, dear. I swear, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to sabotage our guests.”
Taehyung huffs, but allows his father to continue.
Just as Head Omega Kim finishes his fussing, a low murmur ripples through the hall, signaling the arrival of the Jeon delegates. The heavy wooden doors at the far end of the hall swing open with a creak, and the Jeon delegation steps inside.
The Head Alpha and Omega position themselves at the center of the room, pulling Taehyung to stand at their side. As an omega-in-waiting, Jimin takes his place off to the side of the hall, close enough to attend to any needs but far enough to avoid drawing attention.
Leading the Jeon Pack’s entrance is an alpha Jimin has never seen before, a figure that instantly captures the attention of everyone in the hall. There’s no doubt in Jimin’s mind that this must be Jeon Jeongguk. The front half of his long, dark hair is pulled back into a knot, revealing a determined brow and a scar that travels through it. His pelts are rich and finely made, the dark fur swaying slightly as he strides forward.
As he enters, his eyes scan the room, taking in the grandeur and the gathered wolves, but when his gaze lands on Jimin, the alpha falters, his steps briefly stumbling. The moment their eyes meet, the air between them thickens, charged with an electric tension that Jimin has never experienced before.
The alpha’s scent wafts over to Jimin—petrichor and pine, rich and earthy, enveloping him completely. It hits him like a tidal wave, wrapping around him, seeping into every fiber of his being. Jimin’s knees nearly buckle under the weight of it. His breath hitches in his throat, and it feels as though his blood is boiling beneath his skin. Time slows, every heartbeat pounding in his ears, every nerve in his body buzzing.
His wolf reacts violently, howling and pacing as if trying to claw its way out, yearning to get closer to the source. His heart pounds in his chest, every beat echoing with a primal need that he can’t fully comprehend. It’s as if his very soul is reaching out, recognizing something vital and doing all it can to claim it.
For a fleeting second, Jimin wonders what this means. The intensity of the reaction—the way his wolf responds so viscerally to the alpha—tugs at the part of him that has always longed for something more . Could it be possible? Could this alpha, a stranger, be his?
But the thought feels too dangerous, too reckless. His mind quickly dismisses it as impossible, a fleeting fantasy born from an overwhelming moment. True mates are a rarity, a bond forged by destiny alone. And Jeongguk, this heir to an entire pack, couldn’t be his. There’s no way. He would have known, wouldn’t he? He shoves the thought aside, willing himself to be practical, to tamp down the wild hope that flares in his chest.
The alpha quickly regains his composure, averting his eyes, and continues toward the Head Alpha. Jimin forces himself to look away, the connection severing with a pang in his chest. His breath comes in shaky gasps, and he clenches his fists at his sides, determined not to let the overwhelming emotions show on his face. Even as his wolf claws restlessly within him, he forces himself to stay grounded, reminding himself that this is nothing more than a moment, a reaction, not something real.
Jimin blinks as he steadies himself. He glances up and catches the gaze of Yoongi behind Jeongguk. The familiar sight of the alpha is grounding, pulling him back to the present, though Yoongi’s curious expression tells Jimin that he’s clearly noticed something off. Without a word, Yoongi moves his gaze forward and continues behind Jeongguk, as if nothing out of the ordinary has occurred.
The Jeon Pack comes to a stop before Head Alpha Kim and his family, the air thick with anticipation. Jeongguk leads his people in a bow of submission to Head Alpha Kim—a traditional gesture of goodwill extended to host packs. Everything is proceeding as expected, the tension easing slightly with the formality of the act.
But then, all hell breaks loose.
When it’s the Kims’ turn to return the bow, Jimin notices something wrong with Taehyung. Instead of following his parents' lead, Taehyung stands perfectly still, spine stiff as a board, eyes wide and unblinking. His gaze is fixed straight ahead, and Jimin immediately feels a ripple of unease. Something isn’t right.
He knows that while Taehyung hasn’t attended many political functions, he’s well aware of the protocol—and this is definitely not it. As Jimin watches, confusion quickly gives way to alarm as Taehyung’s mouth drops open, and before anyone can react, his eyes roll back into his head.
"Taehyung!" Jimin yells, instinct taking over as he leaps toward his friend.
He’s nearly to him when Taehyung’s body goes limp, crumpling to the floor in a heap of furs. Gasps of shock echo throughout the grand hall. Head Omega Kim lets out a sharp, panicked cry, rushing to his son’s side, while the Head Alpha takes a protective step forward, his composure momentarily shattered by his son’s unexpected collapse.
Jimin reaches Taehyung, dropping to his knees beside him. He gently shakes his shoulder, trying to get him to respond, but there’s no immediate reaction. Taehyung’s face is pale, his breaths shallow and uneven, and Jimin’s stomach is churning in worry.
"Taehyung!" Head Omega Kim's voice trembles as he kneels beside them, reaching for his son's hand. "What’s happening to him?!"
Jimin glances around, eyes darting to Yoongi, who is already moving, his usually calm face etched with concern. Jeongguk stands frozen at the front of the Jeon delegation, his expression unreadable as he watches the scene unfold, though his eyes remain locked on Taehyung.
"Someone get the healer!" The Head Alpha’s booming voice snaps everyone into action, and attendants rush out of the hall.
But before anyone can make it too far, Taehyung lets out a small, weak gasp, his fingers twitching against the floor. His eyes flutter open, unfocused and glazed.
Then, he speaks, his voice barely more than a whisper.
"Yoongi..."
The single word hangs in the air and Jimin’s heart skips a beat. He follows Taehyung’s gaze, which has landed squarely on Yoongi.
And Yoongi—usually composed, always in control—looks like he’s been struck by lightning.
For a moment, no one moves. The entire hall seems to hold its breath as the truth dawns on Jimin, clear as day. This isn’t just a collapse. This is something much bigger. Something primal.
Taehyung and Yoongi have found each other. True mates.
Jimin’s chest tightens as the realization crashes over him.
Of course.
— — — —
Jimin paces restlessly between the front window of his cabin and the warm hearth in the adjoining kitchen, his footsteps soft but steady on the wooden floor. He’s been doing this for two hours, and the worry gnawing at his insides hasn’t lessened in the slightest.
“You’re going to wear holes into the floor if you keep that up,” his brother, Jihyun, says leaning casually against the counter with a cup of tea in hand.
Jimin reaches the window again, his breath fogging up the glass as he peers outside, eyes searching the tree line for any sign of movement. The snow outside has long since settled, blanketing the landscape in white, but no visitors have come up the path. He peels back the curtains, heart racing with every fleeting glance. Still nothing.
“Jimin,” Jihyun’s tone softens, clearly growing concerned. “Seriously. If there were an update, they’d have let you know by now.”
Jimin sighs, his shoulders sagging as he lets the curtains fall back into place. He drags a hand through his hair, his restlessness festering into frustration. He hates the waiting, the not knowing. Ever since Taehyung had collapsed during the reception and the pack healer had whisked him away, there’s been no word. Hours have passed, and the anxiety tears at Jimin’s insides like a living thing.
“I just… I need to know he’s okay,” he mutters, finally turning away from the window. His eyes flick to his brother, who watches him with a mixture of concern and patience.
“He’s in good hands, Min,” Jihyun replies, setting his tea down on the counter. “And Alpha Min—”
Jimin waves off the rest of the sentence before it could even be finished. He doesn’t want to think about Yoongi. Not now. Not after what had happened. Taehyung’s collapse was bad enough, but the whole scene between him and Yoongi…
Jimin shakes his head, unwilling to dwell on the memory of the way Yoongi had frozen in place when Taehyung whispered his name. The way everything around them had seemed to disappear in that single moment of recognition.
True mates.
It explained everything, but Jimin hadn’t been prepared for how visceral the reaction would be. And now Taehyung was out of reach, recovering somewhere while Jimin was left pacing like a caged animal.
“You can’t do anything for him right now,” the young alpha continued gently. “You need to take care of yourself too.”
Jimin bristles at the suggestion, his hands balling into fists at his sides.
“How am I supposed to take care of myself when my best friend—” He stops himself, throat tightening, the weight of everything catching up to him. He presses his fingers to his temples, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside.
Jihyun steps closer, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “He’s going to be okay. You know how he is. He’s strong. He’ll pull through this.”
Jimin bites down on his lip, nodding even though the knot in his chest doesn’t loosen. The guilt eats at him, frustration building because beneath his worry for his best friend is something uglier—his own heartbreak. It overshadows everything, poisoning his thoughts. All he can think about is the bond and what it would mean for himself . Would he recover from this? Just this morning he was debating whether or not he would court said alpha, and now… now all he has are feelings to lie to rest and the need to start over.
A knock at the cabin door breaks through his spiral. Jihyun beats him to it, quickly pulling it open to reveal Namjoon standing on the other side.
Jihyun steps aside, letting Namjoon enter as he shakes the last bits of snow from his furs, his face half-shadowed by the flickering light of the hearth. Jimin’s heart skips a beat at the sight of the Alpha Guard, his breath catching as he braces himself for whatever news has finally arrived.
"Alpha Kim," Jimin breathes out, tension bleeding through his voice. His hands clench at his sides, fighting to hold onto what little composure he has left.
Namjoon meets Jimin’s eyes, his expression serious but not without empathy.
“He’s stable,” he says, the words lifting a weight from Jimin’s chest. “The healer says he’s going to be fine. The bond took a toll on him, but he’s recovering.”
Jimin’s relief is palpable, his shoulders sagging as he releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He glances toward Jihyun, who offers a small, reassuring nod. But even as the knot in his chest begins to unravel, something in Namjoon’s demeanor makes his pulse quicken again. There’s a hesitation in his eyes, a reluctance that seeps through his usual calm, sandalwood scent.
“There’s more, isn’t there?” Jimin asks, his voice coming out quieter than intended.
Namjoon sighs, stepping further into the cabin and shutting the door behind him. “Alpha Min hasn’t left his side.”
The words hit Jimin like a blow to the gut. He knew this was coming—of course he did. True mates aren’t something you can ignore, not once the bond forms. But hearing it out loud makes the reality sink in deeper, the ache in his chest spreading like wildfire.
Jimin swallows hard, his throat tight as he nods slowly. He should be happy for them—Taehyung is his best friend, and Yoongi… Yoongi deserves this too. But that doesn’t stop the bitterness that wells up inside him, the painful longing that knots his insides. It feels selfish, and Jimin hates himself for it.
“You should go see him,” Namjoon says softly, his eyes full of understanding. “He’ll want to see you.”
Jimin’s mouth goes dry. He doesn’t know if he can face him—not yet. Not when everything feels like it’s crumbling around him. But he nods again, even as his heart clenches tighter. “Yeah,” he whispers. “I’ll go.”
— — — —
It’s when Jimin makes it to the doors of the infirmary that he fully regrets coming to visit, dread tightening his chest as he listens to the muffled sounds from within. He can hear Yoongi’s low, comforting voice and, worse, Taehyung’s soft laughter ringing out in response. His heart clenches painfully. Every step that brought him here now feels like a mistake.
He hesitates, his fingers brushing the door handle as doubt grips him like a vise. Maybe he shouldn’t be here. Maybe he should just turn around and go home, pretend he didn’t come at all. He starts to step back, preparing to retreat, when a voice from behind freezes him in place.
“You actually have to open it if you want to go inside.”
Jimin gasps softly, spinning around to see Jeongguk standing at the bottom of the infirmary steps, his figure stark against the snow-covered ground. The wind tousles the loose strands of his hair, and his eyes, dark and intense, are locked on Jimin.
For a moment, Jimin is speechless, caught off guard by the unexpected presence of the Jeon heir. The sight of him sends a jolt through Jimin, his heart racing as he takes in the way Jeongguk's furs hug his broad shoulders, heart pounding in his chest as their eyes meet. The weight of the alpha’s gaze unsettles him, stirring the same raw emotions he felt when he first caught sight of him earlier that day. Something about this alpha makes his skin feel like a live wire, electricity shooting through his nerves at the slightest whiff of his scent through the cold wind.
“Alpha Jeon,” Jimin replies, bowing as he tries to keep his voice steady, though it trembles slightly. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Jeongguk doesn’t respond right away, simply taking the few measured steps up to the infirmary’s porch, his eyes never leaving Jimin’s. His silence, heavy yet deliberate, lingers in the space between them, adding to the tension Jimin can’t quite shake. There’s something about the way Jeongguk watches him—like he’s assessing every flicker of emotion, every breath Jimin takes, without offering much in return. It’s unnerving but strangely grounding at the same time.
His scent, rich and overwhelming, surrounds Jimin, wrapping around him like a weighted blanket. It’s thick with pine and petrichor, earthy and clean, but it suffocates him, makes his chest tight and his skin buzz with a discomfort he can’t place. He resists the urge to step back, the alpha’s presence pulling him in even as it sets every nerve in his body on edge.
“I came to check on Omega Kim,” Jeongguk finally says, his deep voice calm.
Jimin forces a nod, his pulse still thrumming too fast, too erratic. "Me too," Jimin murmurs, almost as if reminding himself. "I was told he’ll be alright."
Jeongguk’s expression shifts just slightly. He glances at the infirmary door behind Jimin before looking back at him, a subtle tension in his jaw. “And you?” he asks, his voice lower now, almost a murmur. “Will you be alright?”
The question catches Jimin off guard, and he blinks, unsure how to answer. There’s no way Jeongguk could know the turmoil inside him, the whirlwind of emotions he’s been struggling to contain. But there’s something in the way Jeongguk is looking at him that makes Jimin feel like he’s being seen, truly seen, in a way that leaves him feeling vulnerable.
“I’m fine,” Jimin lies, the words sounding hollow even to his own ears. He clears his throat, trying to gather himself. “I should be more worried about him.”
“He has Yoongi,” Jeongguk says, his words slow. “He’ll be taken care of.”
The mention of Yoongi twists something painful in Jimin’s chest, a reminder of the bond that has formed between his best friend and the alpha he thought might one day be his. The sharpness of that loss still stings, even more so when Jeongguk speaks so plainly about it.
Jimin swallows hard, turning his face away, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “I know,” he whispers, though the ache in his voice betrays him.
“I just...” his voice falters, breath catching in his throat as he struggles to finish the thought. He doesn’t know what to say, what he could possibly explain. That his heart is breaking over Yoongi and Taehyung’s bond? That the connection he once thought he had with Yoongi now feels like shattered glass? Or that the presence of Alpha Jeongguk—this near stranger—is only making everything more confusing?
Jeongguk steps even closer, close enough now that Jimin can feel the warmth of his body against the chill of the evening air. His hand hovers near Jimin’s arm, as if debating whether to reach out, to offer some kind of comfort, but he hesitates, bringing his hand back to his side in a clenched fist, sensing Jimin’s unease in the way his shoulders tense and his breath hitches. Without another word, he glances at the door, then nods subtly before turning toward the entrance of the infirmary.
“Shall we?”
Jimin nods, and together, they step inside.
The warmth of the room is a sharp contrast to the cold outside, the air heavy with the scent of healing herbs and burning wood. Jimin feels the strain in his chest tighten as his eyes land on the figure resting on the bed. Taehyung looks pale but peaceful, his head propped up on pillows, eyes half-lidded with fatigue. At his side, sitting with an attentive stillness, is Yoongi.
Taehyung notices Jimin immediately, his eyes flickering with something unreadable—relief, hesitation, maybe a mix of both. But there’s a tension that hangs in the air, unspoken and heavy. Jimin can feel it, like an invisible wall between him and his best friend.
“Jimin,” Taehyung’s voice is soft, barely above a whisper, but the uncertainty in it cuts deep.
Jimin forces a smile, stepping forward even though his legs feel like they might give out under him.
“Hey,” he says, his voice straining with the effort to sound normal. “I came to check on you.”
Taehyung glances at Yoongi for a moment, and the movement is almost imperceptible, but it’s enough for Jimin to see it. The bond between them is palpable, something Jimin can’t ignore no matter how hard he tries. It’s there, right in front of him, staring him in the face—everything he’s lost, everything that’s been taken from him.
And then Yoongi looks up, meeting Jimin’s eyes. There’s a calmness in his gaze, an unspoken understanding, but it doesn’t help. It only makes Jimin feel smaller, more out of place. The underlying pity in his eyes is enough to make his chest ache, the pain sharp and unrelenting, and suddenly it’s too much. Too much to see them together, too much to stand there pretending like everything is fine when it’s not.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” Jimin manages, but his voice cracks at the end. His hands tremble, and he clenches them into fists to stop the shaking. “I should—I should go. You need rest.”
“Jimin, wait,” Taehyung’s voice is a little stronger now as he shifts to sit up, a flicker of panic in his tone, but Jimin can’t bear to stay any longer. Not with Yoongi sitting there, not with this new bond hanging between them like a suffocating weight.
He turns, not waiting for Taehyung to finish, and heads for the door, his chest tight and his vision blurring at the edges. Jeongguk, who’s been standing silently nearby, steps forward, his gaze following Jimin. There’s no judgment in his eyes, only quiet understanding, but it doesn’t ease the pain that’s tearing Jimin apart from the inside.
“Omega Jimin.” Jeongguk’s voice is soft, careful, but Jimin doesn’t stop. He can’t. Not now.
The door closes behind him with a dull thud, and Jimin gulps in the cold air outside, his breaths coming in shaky gasps as he tries to pull himself together. But the image of Taehyung and Yoongi together, so close, so... bonded, lingers in his mind, tormenting him.
Behind him, the door creaks open, and Jeongguk steps out onto the porch. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t push, just stands there, his presence a quiet support in the midst of Jimin’s turmoil.
Jimin wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand, embarrassed by the tears threatening to spill over. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, not even sure what exactly he’s apologizing about.
“You don’t need to apologize,” Jeongguk says, his voice steady but gentle. “You’re allowed to feel what you feel.”
Jimin’s shoulders sag, the weight of everything pressing down on him. “It’s just... too much,” he admits, his voice barely a whisper.
Jeongguk doesn’t answer immediately, but he steps closer, just enough for Jimin to feel the warmth of his presence against the cold night.
“I know.”
Jimin’s head snaps up at Jeongguk’s words, a flare of frustration rising in his chest. He blinks, stunned, the words ringing in his ears. I know?
The sharpness of the statement strikes him like a physical blow, cutting through the layers of grief and confusion he’s been trying to bury. How could Jeongguk know? How could this alpha, someone he barely knows, stand there and act like he understands the storm Jimin’s been drowning in?
“No, you don’t know,” Jimin bites out, the tremble in his voice now fueled by anger. His cheeks flush hot with emotion, hands clenching at his sides. “You don’t even know me.”
Jeongguk blinks, taken aback by the sudden outburst, but he doesn’t speak right away. His silence only makes the frustration in Jimin’s chest burn hotter.
“You’re standing here, saying all these things like you understand,” Jimin continues, his voice growing louder, raw with pent-up emotion. “But you don’t . You don’t know anything about what I’ve been through, about what I’ve lost.” His voice cracks, but he pushes through, the pain in his chest now unbearable. “So why? Why are you trying to comfort me like—like we’re close? Like you care?”
He knows the words are harsher than he intends, but the suffocating grief is all too much. And Jeongguk—this stranger, this alpha—standing here offering quiet solace feels almost like an insult.
But then something shifts in Jeongguk’s expression. There’s a flicker in his dark eyes, something almost... patient. And that’s when it hits Jimin.
Yoongi.
Yoongi must have told Jeongguk everything.
The realization knocks the breath from Jimin’s lungs, and his anger quickly deflates, replaced by an overwhelming wave of embarrassment. His heart sinks, his eyes widening in horror as he takes a step back, his hands covering his face as if that could somehow hide his shame.
“You...” His voice is barely above a whisper now, trembling with disbelief. “He told you everything, didn’t he?”
Jeongguk doesn’t respond right away, his gaze steady and unflinching, though he doesn’t deny it. The silence is enough to confirm Jimin’s fears, and the shame settles deep in his gut, twisting and gnawing at him.
Jimin feels small, exposed, like the ground beneath him has shifted, and all he wants to do is disappear. He turns away, biting his lip to keep the tears from spilling over. Of course Yoongi told him. Of course this alpha knows about his heartbreak, about how pathetic he must seem, clinging to something that’s already lost.
“I didn’t mean to... I didn’t—” Jimin stammers, his voice thick with humiliation. He can’t finish the sentence, can’t find the words to explain himself. He wraps his arms around his body, trying to protect whatever dignity he has left.
Jeongguk watches him quietly, the tension between them heavy but unspoken. After a long pause, he finally speaks, his voice low and calm.
“He told me some things,” Jeongguk admits, his tone careful, as if not to aggravate Jimin’s already frayed nerves. “But that’s not why I’m here.”
Jimin doesn’t respond, still turned away, his mind racing. He feels Jeongguk’s presence behind him, close but not suffocating, and for a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of the wind and Jimin’s shaky breathing.
“I’m here because I wanted to be,” Jeongguk adds, his voice softer now. “Because... I think you need someone right now. And even if we don’t know each other, I’d like to be that for you.”
The words are gentle, unexpected, and they settle over Jimin like a balm on his raw nerves. He wants to lash out again, to push Jeongguk away, but the sincerity in the alpha’s voice catches him off guard. It’s not pity. It’s something else—something steadier, something that makes Jimin’s heart falter.
But he can’t understand it. Why does Jeongguk care? Why is he offering his support when they’re practically strangers?
Jimin lowers his arms, turning slowly to face Jeongguk again, his eyes searching the alpha’s face for answers. “Why?” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “Why do you care?”
Jeongguk meets his gaze, his expression unchanging for a moment, but then his eyes soften, and the slightest hint of a smile touches his lips. “I just do.”
There’s something in those words, something that stirs an unfamiliar warmth in Jimin’s chest. But he doesn’t know what to do with it, doesn’t know how to respond. All he can do is stand there, his heart still aching, but somehow, for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel so unbearably heavy.
And Jeongguk—quiet, patient Jeongguk—waits.
Jimin’s breath catches, the weight of the moment hanging between them like a thick fog he doesn’t know how to navigate. His mind reels, struggling to make sense of the alpha’s quiet yet unwavering presence, the way he stands there, offering something Jimin isn’t sure he deserves. His scent creeps up on Jimin, soothing his distress, drowning him in the calmness of petrichor and pine. It’s all too much but not enough at the same time.
He opens his mouth to speak, to ask more questions or maybe to push Jeongguk away again, but before he can, the infirmary door creaks open behind them. The sound is a sudden intrusion, snapping Jimin back to the reality he’s been dreading.
Yoongi steps out first, his expression unreadable as ever, but Jimin notices the subtle shift in his eyes when they land on him. There’s concern, but also something that feels like resignation. And then, behind him, is Taehyung, wrapped in Yoongi’s familiar dark furs leaning heavily against the doorframe, his face pale but his eyes bright. There’s a softness to the way Yoongi’s hand rests on Taehyung’s lower back, a tenderness that twists the knife even deeper into Jimin’s chest.
The sight of them together, so intimate, so... natural, is too much.
Jimin’s breath hitches, and he instinctively takes a step back, away from the door, away from the two of them. He feels Jeongguk’s gaze on him, steady as always, but it doesn’t stop the rush of emotion rising in his throat.
“Jimin,” Taehyung’s voice is soft, tentative, and laced with a pleading edge. He takes a small step forward, but it’s hesitant, as if he’s unsure whether he should close the distance between them.
Jimin swallows hard, the sound of Taehyung’s voice only amplifying the ache already clawing at his chest. His vision blurs, but he refuses to let the tears fall. Not here, not in front of them.
He holds up a hand, stopping Taehyung before he can come any closer. "Don't," Jimin says, his voice tight, strained. "Please. Just... don't. I can’t do this right now."
Taehyung freezes, guilt flashing across his features, his lips parting as if to say something, anything that might make it better. But there’s nothing that can. Not when the sight of Yoongi standing protectively beside him is a constant reminder of everything Jimin’s lost.
Yoongi’s eyes flick between Jimin and Taehyung. He doesn’t step forward, doesn’t push. It’s Yoongi’s way, always observing, always holding back when he knows there’s nothing he can do.
Jimin wants to scream, wants to ask him why he couldn’t have fought for them, why he hadn’t stopped this from happening. But he knows the answer. It’s not Yoongi’s fault. It never was.
Jeongguk takes a small step closer, his presence grounding even as Jimin feels like he’s unraveling. His scent cuts through the cold air, steady and calming, but it only makes Jimin feel more trapped.
Jimin's breath hitches, and he fights to regain control, to push down the spiraling emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “I can’t be here,” he whispers, shaking his head as if it might physically shake off the pain. “I can’t do this.”
“Minnie,” Taehyung nearly begs, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “Please talk to me.”
“About what, Tae?” His voice cracks, wobbling on the hinge of desperation. “What is there to talk about? Am I supposed to act like everything is fine? That this doesn’t hurt?”
“No! But it’s something that we need to talk about! You can’t just run away from this.”
“Watch me,” Jimin snaps, the bitter sting of frustration lacing his words as he turns to leave. His foot hits the top step of the stairs, beginning his descent to the snow below, when he hears Yoongi.
“Jimin.”
Jimin halts, feeling the heat of tears pricking his eyes as he swipes angrily at his cheeks, trying to erase any trace of vulnerability. But turning to face Yoongi feels like stepping into an open flame, being burned alive by the eyes of the man he’d hoped to spend the rest of his life with.
“Jimin,” Yoongi repeats softly, stepping closer, his brow furrowed with concern. The warmth of his presence sends a shiver down Jimin’s spine, awakening a cascade of memories—the warmth of his smile, the gentleness of his touch, the calmness of his scent.
As Yoongi reaches for his hand, Jimin feels a rush of conflicting emotions. That familiar spark ignites once Yoongi’s hand envelops his own, but it only deepens his despair. He can’t bear the thought of losing him. A tear slips down his cheek, and he swallows hard, fighting against the tide of grief rising within him.
“Please, just talk to him,” Yoongi urges, his voice a tender whisper, yet filled with the weight of desperation.
Jimin closes his eyes, overwhelmed by the warmth of more tears. Yoongi’s voice wraps around him like a lifeline, pulling him closer even as he longs to retreat.
“This isn’t going to go away, Min,” he says, and Jimin winces at the familiar nickname that now stings like a fresh wound. “You can’t keep pushing. It’s not going to fix anything.”
“I can’t,” Jimin whispers, trembling with the weight of it all. “I can’t do this.”
“You can.”
Yoongi’s eyes shimmer in the soft light, reflecting the moon like twin lanterns filled with raw emotion Jimin has never seen before—never seen directed at him. For him. The desperation in his gaze tugs at Jimin’s heart, the silent plea for this pain to end not just for himself, but for everyone involved. The intensity of that look feels like a promise that, despite everything, he still cares.
But it’s clear where Yoongi’s interest lies. It’s as if the bond he shares with Taehyung has opened something within him. Jimin sees the determination etched in the lines of his face, the way his brows furrow slightly as if he’s wrestling with an internal battle of his own. The realization washes over Jimin like a tidal wave: every action Yoongi takes from this moment forward will be influenced by the bond he shares with Taehyung. And that reality stings.
Jimin’s eyes shift to Taehyung, his best friend in the entire world—the one who knows him inside and out, who has shared laughter, secrets, and countless memories. Taehyung would never willingly hurt him; Jimin knows that instinctively. He knows that if it came down to it, Taehyung would cut off his right arm before even considering causing Jimin pain.
But grief and heartache muddle his thoughts, clouding his ability to see past the raw misery that consumes him.
“It hurts to look at you, Tae,” he admits, his voice cracking under the weight of his agony as he pulls away from Yoongi, the warmth of the man he once loved now feeling distant and foreign. “I know it’s not your fault, but it’s killing me.”
Taehyung’s expression crumples, a mix of sorrow and helplessness washing over him. “It’s breaking my heart to know that I caused you pain, baby,” he says, his lower lip wobbling as he fights back tears. “I—I don’t know how to fix this.”
“There is no fixing this,” Jimin says, the words hanging heavy in the air. “You’re bonded to him now. That changes everything.”
“I know it does," Taehyung says, his voice rising with urgency. "But that doesn’t mean I don’t care. I didn’t choose this—the bond. I never wanted it to hurt you.”
“But it does hurt me!” Jimin snaps, his frustration bubbling over. “Your true mate is the only man I’ve ever loved. And there’s nothing I can do about it! It’s literally fucking fate!”
The words tumble out of him, raw and jagged, and he doesn’t care that they’re laced with bitterness. He feels exposed, his chest tightening under the weight of his grief.
Yoongi shifts slightly, and Jimin notices the way the alpha’s posture changes—protective, instinctively guarding Taehyung, but there’s a flash of regret in his eyes that Jimin can’t quite decipher. The knife in his chest twists deeper.
“Jimin, please.” Taehyung looks as though he’s been struck, his expression crumbling. “You don’t think I’m hurting too? You don’t think I know how much he means to you? That I don’t feel fucking guilty for being the cause of all of this?”
Jimin tries to bite back his tears, the rawness of Taehyung’s words tugging at something deep within him. And it zaps all the anger from his body, leaving him feeling wave after wave of sorrow.
“It just... hurts so much, Tae,” he admits, his voice shaking. “I don’t want to feel like this, but I can’t look at you and not see all I’ve lost.”
“I know,” Taehyung replies, his voice trembling with emotion. “But you have to understand, this isn’t just about me or you. It’s about the bond we can’t change. I would give anything to take away your pain, Minnie, but… I-I can’t.”
Jimin’s heart aches at the sincerity in Taehyung’s voice. He can see the turmoil etched on his best friend’s face, the burn of their shared grief sparking in the air. His stomach churns with guilt at making what should have been one of the happiest days of his best friend’s life all about him and his heartache.
Because, at the end of it all, Taehyung is right. There’s nothing they can do to change what fate has decided. A bond’s been created that will last the test of time, far longer than he ever could call Yoongi his own.
“I just…” Jimin starts, his voice barely above a whisper as he shifts his gaze to the ground. “I just need some time.”
Taehyung watches him for a long moment, the sadness in his eyes mirrored in Jimin’s. “I’ll give you as much time as you need,” he says quietly, though the tremor in his voice betrays his own pain.
Jimin nods, unable to find the words to respond, the space between them still heavy with the weight of unresolved feelings. As Taehyung stands there, waiting, Jimin feels the distance, both physical and emotional, growing between them. Time, they both know, may ease the hurt, but it won’t erase the scars left behind.
Jimin feels a presence before he hears the soft footfalls behind him. Jeongguk steps forward, eyes flicking between him and Taehyung. He doesn’t speak right away, giving Jimin space to breathe, to collect himself, but then his low, steady voice cuts through the silence.
“I’ll walk you home.”
Jimin hesitates, his chest still tight with the weight of the argument, but he nods. There’s a part of him that doesn’t want to be alone, and though Jeongguk’s presence is unfamiliar, it feels… grounding.
Jeongguk steps aside to let Jimin pass, offering a fleeting glance back at Taehyung and Yoongi, who remain on the porch. Taehyung looks like he wants to say something, to reach out one more time, but Yoongi places a steadying hand on his shoulder. They both watch in silence as Jimin and Jeongguk begin their slow walk down the path, the soft crunch of snow under their feet the only sound accompanying them.
After a few minutes, Jimin exhales shakily, the weight of everything finally pushing him to speak. He glances sideways at Jeongguk. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, his voice low, as if the words are meant more for himself than Jeongguk. “For how I spoke to you earlier. I shouldn’t have.”
Jeongguk’s steps slow for a second, and he glances over at Jimin, his brow furrowing slightly. “You don’t have to apologize for that.” His voice is calm, soothing even. “I don’t mind.”
Jimin stops, turning to face him fully now, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “But I was rude, and—”
“Omega,”Jeongguk interrupts gently, his gaze softening. “It’s fine. Really. You’re going through a lot right now. I didn’t take it personally.”
The sincerity in Jeongguk’s voice cuts through the haze of guilt clouding Jimin’s mind. For the first time that night, something in Jimin’s chest loosens. He lets out a shaky breath, nodding in quiet acknowledgment. They resume their walk, the tension between them easing ever so slightly, though the ache in Jimin’s heart remains a constant, pulsing reminder of the pain he’s trying to navigate.
Ahead of them, the soft glow of lanterns lights the path, and for a brief moment, the silence feels less heavy. Jimin glances at Jeongguk, catching the way his expression remains composed, yet there’s a quiet understanding in his eyes that makes Jimin feel a little less alone. His earlier apology lingers in his mind, but there’s something else tugging at him now. Something that’s been bothering him, even through all the chaos of the evening.
Jeongguk had called him Omega . The formality of it felt strange, almost out of place. Jimin wasn’t high-ranking. He wasn’t from some noble family. In fact, the title had never been something he expected to hear directed at him, at least not in the way Jeongguk had said it. Respectful. With purpose.
Jimin clears his throat, breaking the silence again. “You keep calling me Omega,” he says softly, glancing sideways at Jeongguk. “Why?”
Jeongguk doesn’t respond right away. His eyes remain focused ahead, the quiet rustle of snow-covered leaves filling the space between them. When he does speak, his voice is low, thoughtful. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because,” Jimin starts, a bit more insistently now, “I’m not… I mean, I’m not anyone . I don’t have a rank, or status, or any of the things that matter here. Only high-borns get addressed by their designation.” He pauses, his tone softening again. “And I’m not.”
Jeongguk stops walking, turning to face Jimin with a look that’s hard to read. “You think that matters to me?”
Jimin blinks, surprised by the question. “It’s… just how things are.”
Jeongguk shakes his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Maybe that’s how things are for some people. But I don’t see you as ‘just’ anything. You’re an omega. That doesn’t have to be about rank or status.” His gaze holds Jimin’s, unwavering. “It’s about who you are.”
Jimin’s breath catches in his throat. He isn’t used to being seen that way—respected for something so intrinsic to his identity. In his world, status was everything, and as a low-born omega, he’d spent most of his life being overlooked, or worse, treated like he was invisible. But Jeongguk wasn’t seeing him that way. He was seeing Jimin as an omega—no more, no less—and somehow, that carried more weight than he’d had anticipated.
“I just…” Jimin’s voice wavers, and he drops his gaze to the ground, feeling the sting of insecurity bubble up again. “It feels strange. Hearing it from someone like you.”
Jeongguk’s brow furrows. “Someone like me?”
“You’re… you’re the heir to the Jeon Pack.” Jimin gestures vaguely, as if trying to encompass all the ways Jeongguk is different from him. “I don’t get called by my designation unless it’s to remind me of how low I am. You don’t have to… pretend.”
“I don’t have to do anything.” Jeongguk’s expression softens, and he steps closer, closing the small distance between them. “I’m not pretending. It’s not about rank. It’s about respect. I see you. Not as someone low-born, or someone beneath me. I see you .”
Jimin feels his throat tighten, the sincerity in Jeongguk’s words overwhelming him. He can barely hold Jeongguk’s gaze, feeling too exposed under the weight of it. No one had ever spoken to him like that before. No one had ever made him feel like who he was—just as he was—mattered.
Jimin lets out a shaky breath, offering a faint smile. “Thank you,” he whispers, though the words feel too small to capture everything he’s feeling.
Jeongguk just nods, his gaze softening further. “Anytime, Omega.”
The way he says it, with such quiet confidence and respect, makes something flutter deep in Jimin’s chest. He isn’t sure what it is, but for the first time in a long while, it doesn’t hurt.
— — — —
Jimin awakens softly in his bed, the sunlight streaming through the window panes, casting a gentle glow that warms his skin. It’s the kind of cool sunlight that only graces winter mornings, a soft illumination that feels almost ethereal. Outside, the world is hushed, the air crisp and invigorating, filled with the faint rustle of trees swaying in the chilly breeze.
He shifts slightly beneath the woven blanket, the fabric a familiar weight against him, yet a sense of unease lingers. He’d struggled to fall asleep the night before, tossing and turning as memories of his confrontation with Taehyung replayed like a relentless echo in his mind. The image of Taehyung's crumpled expression is etched into his thoughts, an indelible mark that twists his gut with guilt. They had never once argued about anything of substance; the idea of it feels foreign and insurmountable. The distance that had opened between them feels like an abyss, dark and endless.
With a deep sigh, Jimin swings his legs over the side of the bed, the wooden floor cool against his feet. He stretches his arms overhead, trying to shake off the heaviness that clings to him. As he does, he catches a whiff of something lingering in the air—an ever-so-slight scent of petrichor that clings to his skin. An uninvited blush rushes to his cheeks.
After Jeongguk had dropped him off at his doorstep, Jihyun had been quick to notice the unfamiliar scent that surrounded him.
“Why do you smell like that?” he had asked, his tone laced with curiosity as soon as Jimin stepped through the door.
“What do you mean?”
Jimin had raised an arm to smell himself, jolting in surprise when the earthy scent of petrichor and pine enveloped him. It was as if he had been embraced by the forest itself and swallowed whole by its essence. No matter how much he scrubbed his skin clean, the scent burrowed even further, his wolf suspiciously sated.
Now, as the morning light streams into his room, Jimin readies himself for his morning duties at Taehyung's residence. Even though they’re experiencing a rift right now, that doesn’t mean that Jimin’s free from his responsibilities as Taehyung’s attendant.
He dresses quickly, pulling on simple linens that feel soft against his skin, their muted hues reflecting the chill of the morning air. He brushes a hand through his tousled hair, taking a moment to steady himself in the mirror. The familiar reflection stares back, but today, it seems shadowed by an unshakable heaviness. Looking away, he throws on his worn furs and heads out the door.
His daily walk takes him through the heart of town, where the streets are coming to life. The winter solstice festivities are in full swing, and the scent of pine and woodsmoke fills the crisp air, mingling with the laughter and chatter of townsfolk preparing for the celebrations. Colorful banners sway gently in the breeze, vibrant against the muted backdrop of a sky that promises a day of warmth despite the winter chill.
As he strolls past the market square, Jimin watches as vendors set up their stalls, arranging beautifully woven baskets filled with seasonal fruits and handmade crafts. A nearby woman lays out freshly baked breads, their golden crusts glistening in the soft sunlight. The warmth of the bread calls to him, and for a fleeting moment, he considers stopping to buy a loaf.
He rounds a corner and heads toward Taehyung's residence, a large, welcoming home nestled among the trees. The sun filters through the branches, casting dappled light on the path ahead. He finds comfort in the familiarity of the scenery, the way the snow crunches beneath his feet and the warm smell of the smoke that curls from the chimney.
Jimin opens the main door to Taehyung’s residence, stepping inside with careful quiet. The warm air envelops him immediately, a cozy contrast to the biting cold outside, and he lets out a small sigh of relief as he begins to slip off his furs. Just then, Namjoon turns the corner, his eyes brightening when he spots Jimin. He strides over, his steady steps echoing softly against the wood floors.
“Oh! Good morning, Jimin.”
“Good morning, Alpha Kim,” Jimin replies, the formal title rolling off his tongue out of habit.
“I was on my way to your house just now to save you the trip over here, but I must have been running behind.”
Jimin’s brow creases, confusion obvious in his frown.
“I’m sorry, but Omega Taehyung has asked to send you home.”
The words hit Jimin like a splash of icy water, jolting him out of the warmth of the room. “O-oh,” he stammers, the simple word feeling heavy as it tumbles from his lips. “Is he… alright?”
“He’s fine.” Namjoon’s expression softens, and he shifts his weight, glancing down briefly before meeting Jimin’s eyes again. “He said he doesn’t want any visitors today.”
A beat of silence hangs between them, and Jimin struggles to fill it, the sudden disappointment making his thoughts feel sluggish. It stings to be turned away, but he swallows down the ache and nods slowly. “And that… includes me, then.”
Namjoon’s face softens further, his expression tinged with empathy. “I’m sorry, Jimin,” he says quietly, as though the words might be easier to bear if spoken gently. He offers a small, comforting smile. “At least you get a day off. Maybe some time for yourself?”
“Right,” he manages, voice quieter now. He forces a polite nod, attempting a tight smile he doesn’t quite feel.
The idea of a day off feels hollow, an unexpected emptiness in his routine that he doesn’t know how to fill. Taehyung had said that he’d give them time, but Jimin didn’t figure that it would cut into his work responsibilities.
“Did he leave me anything else to do?” Jimin asks, wringing his fingers together.
“He didn’t mention anything. Just told me to tell you that you’re not needed today.”
With a resigned sigh, he slides his furs back on. His hand finds the cold metal of the door handle, the chill seeping through the tattered fibers of his mittens, anchoring the cold to his bones. “Thank you, Alpha,” he murmurs, offering Namjoon a final nod.
Namjoon steps forward to open the door further for Jimin, watching as he slips out into the morning chill once more. The sharp cold nips at his cheeks, and he pulls his furs tighter around him, the sting of rejection lingering under his skin as he makes his way back down the path, his steps soft against the frozen earth.
In an effort to make himself feel useful, Jimin decides to stop by the infirmary. He’s not as well-versed in healing as Pack Healer Seokjin is, but he’s been known to dedicate some of his freetime to tending minor wounds and harvesting herbs.
The infirmary is quiet when Jimin arrives, sunlight streaming through the frosted windows, casting a soft glow over the rows of herbs and salves. Seokjin stands by the shelves, back to the door, humming to himself as he organizes bundles of dried herbs, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
“There you are!” Seokjin exclaims, the beta not even having to look over his shoulder to know who he’s yelling at. “I was starting to think you’d lied to me when you said you’d come help out. It’s been days – you wanted me to handle all this on my own? Do you have any idea how many bundles of sage there are to tie?”
Jimin chuckles, rolling up his sleeves as he joins him. “I would never leave you alone in a mess this big. I know better than to face your wrath.”
“Oh, you flatter me,” Seokjin says, feigning offense. “I’ll have you know, my wrath is nothing but pure justice. I keep this place running smoothly, thank you very much!”
Jimin snorts, grabbing a bundle of herbs and beginning to tie it off. “Yes, yes, the mighty healer Seokjin, protector of medicinal herbs and enforcer of order. How could I forget?”
Seokjin huffs a laugh, playfully nudging Jimin with his elbow. “Careful, or I’ll make you grind all the valerian roots by yourself. I’ve seen the way you flinch when you have to handle them.”
Jimin scrunches his nose. “The smell is unbearable and you know it! Every time I get near that stuff, I can’t get the scent out of my nose for days.”
“Gods, you’re worse than Namjoonie. He groans every time I even mention ginger root paste in his presence.”
“Because he knows you’re going to bring him a mortar and pestle shortly after.”
Seokjin cackles. “What’s a mate for if he won’t do the labor his better half can’t do?”
“Can’t or doesn’t want to?”
“You better hush up before I go find that mortar and pestle.”
They continue their playful back-and-forth as they stock the shelves, Jimin holding up various herbs and doing his best impersonations of the villagers who swear by each remedy. He has Seokjin practically doubling over when he takes on the persona of an elderly woman who always comes in for the same concoction to “keep her bones young,” despite the lack of any proven success.
But just as Seokjin is wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, the infirmary door flies open, banging against the wall with a thud. Both men freeze, turning to see Jeongguk standing in the doorway, his frame tense and his expression unusually grim.
Jimin’s eyes widen as he takes in the sight of Jeongguk’s arm pressed tightly against his side, blood seeping through his fingers. The earthy scent of pine and petrichor wafts through the room, laced with something sharper—pain and fresh blood. Jimin’s wolf stirs uneasily, instinctively reacting to the sight of the wounded alpha, a protective tension rippling through him.
“Alpha Jeon!” Seokjin’s smile fades immediately, replaced by the practiced focus of a healer. He strides forward, his tone all business. “Sit down. Now. What happened?”
Jeongguk’s face is pale, his jaw clenched, though he manages a slight nod as he obeys, lowering himself onto the bed with a wince. “Thought it was nothing, but…” he trails off, and his brows pinch together as he releases his hold on his side to reveal the wound—a jagged cut along his ribs.
Jimin steps closer, his earlier amusement forgotten, and grabs a cloth to help Seokjin. “I’ll get some water to clean the wound.”
Seokjin gives him a quick nod.
“Do that and grab some of the marigold salve. This is more than nothing,” Seokjin says, shooting a look at Jeongguk.
Jeongguk’s eyes flicker over to Jimin, meeting his gaze for a brief second before looking away. There’s a faint hint of embarrassment in his scent, as if he hadn’t intended for anyone other than the healer to see him like this.
Before Jimin can return with the basin and cloth, the infirmary door creaks open again, and a flustered beta slips inside, eyes darting around before settling on Seokjin.
“Healer Kim, can you come quickly? A few pups were playing in the south field—one of them fell and hurt her leg. It looks bad,” the beta says, voice tinged with urgency.
Seokjin straightens, glancing down at Jeongguk’s wound before looking to Jimin. “Do you think you can handle this? It’s mostly just cleaning and dressing the wound, and Alpha Jeon’s a good patient, isn’t he?”
Jeongguk nods, a slight flush to his cheeks.
Jimin feels a flutter of nerves, his gaze shifting briefly to Jeongguk’s wound and then back up to Seokjin. “I can handle it.”
“Good.” Seokjin clasps Jimin’s shoulder warmly before grabbing supplies and hurrying after the beta, leaving the room in a rush. The door swings shut, leaving Jimin alone with Jeongguk.
The infirmary is quiet in the wake of Seokjin’s exit; the only sounds are the crackling of the fire and the occasional rustle of herbs hanging from the ceiling. Jimin moves around the room swiftly, his fingers sorting through the assortment of dried leaves and tinctures searching for the marigold salve. Jeongguk sits on the edge of the narrow bed, now fully stripped of his shirt, revealing the taut, sinewy muscles of his back. He’s stoic, but Jimin can see the lines of tension on his face, the way his jaw is set tight against the pain.
Jimin kneels in front of him, focusing on the gash across his abdomen. Blood still oozes sluggishly from the wound, and though the alpha has barely made a sound, Jimin knows it must hurt. The injury is deep, and Jimin’s breath catches for a moment as he looks up at Jeongguk’s face, finding his dark eyes already fixed on him. There’s an intensity there that makes the air between them feel electric.
“Hold still,” Jimin murmurs, dipping a cloth into the basin of cool water. He presses it against the wound, cleaning away the blood. The sharp intake of breath from Jeongguk makes him hesitate, but he doesn’t pull back.
“You can press harder,” Jeongguk says, his voice low and steady despite the pain. “I can handle it.”
Jimin’s eyes flick up to meet the alpha’s again, and there’s a moment where neither of them looks away. The room feels warmer, as if the flames in the hearth have flared brighter. Jimin forces himself to focus on the task at hand, but his hands are trembling slightly, betraying the calm he’s trying to project.
“You’re reckless,” Jimin mutters as he sets aside the bloodied cloth and reaches for a jar of salve. His voice comes out sharper than intended, a mix of worry and exasperation. “You could’ve nicked an organ.”
Jeongguk doesn’t respond right away. Instead, he watches Jimin’s hands, the way they move with careful precision as he spreads a thick layer of salve across the wound. The scent of herbs mingles with the alpha’s natural scent—petrichor and pine, like the forest after a heavy rain. It wraps around Jimin, filling his lungs with every inhale, both grounding and unsettling him all at once.
“You sound like you care,” Jeongguk finally says, his voice soft, almost teasing.
Jimin’s fingers falter for a second, smearing the salve across Jeongguk’s skin. He doesn’t meet his gaze this time, keeping his eyes fixed on the wound instead. “Maybe I do,” he replies, barely louder than a whisper.
The admission surprises him as much as it seems to surprise Jeongguk. The alpha’s eyes widen slightly, but he quickly schools his expression back into its usual stoicism. They fall into silence again, the air between them thick with words left unsaid. Jimin works methodically, wrapping the bandage around Jeongguk’s abdomen, but his movements have lost their earlier fluidity. He’s hyper aware of how close they are, the way Jeongguk’s knee brushes against his side as he shifts on the bed.
“Thank you,” Jeongguk says when Jimin finishes tying off the bandage. There’s a softness in his voice now, a warmth that Jimin isn’t used to hearing from him.
Jimin nods, finally allowing himself to look up. “You should be more careful,” he says, but there’s no bite to his words this time. Instead, they come out almost gently, the concern in his eyes unmistakable.
Jeongguk’s gaze lingers on his face, and for a moment, the world outside the infirmary seems to fade away. It’s just the two of them, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of the space, the only witnesses the flickering flames and the scent of herbs hanging in the air. Jimin can feel it now, that pull he’s sensed before, a magnetic force drawing him closer to Jeongguk, urging him to lean in, to close the small distance between them.
He doesn’t realize he’s moved until his fingers brush against Jeongguk’s skin, the barest touch of his knuckles against the inside of Jeongguk’s wrist. It’s like lightning strikes the room—both of them freeze, eyes wide as the shock of the contact pulses through them. Jimin’s breath catches, his heart thudding wildly in his chest. The connection is instantaneous, a jolt of energy that surges through his entire body, igniting every nerve ending with a sensation he’s never felt before.
Jeongguk inhales sharply, his grip tightening around the edge of the bed as if he needs to hold onto something to keep himself steady. His eyes are blown wide, pupils dilating as he stares at Jimin, the air between them electric. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to—Jimin can feel it too, a deep, primal recognition thrumming through his veins, as if his very soul is calling out to Jeongguk’s.
It lasts only a second before Jimin snatches his hand back, stumbling to his feet as if he’s been burned. His chest rises and falls rapidly, and he presses a hand against his heart as if to calm the erratic pounding there.
“What—” Jimin starts, his voice shaky. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t have the words for whatever just happened.
Jeongguk stands slowly, towering over him now, his expression unreadable but his eyes soft. There’s a gentleness there, an understanding that makes Jimin’s stomach twist with something unfamiliar. “Did you feel that?” Jeongguk asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
Jimin’s eyes dart away, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He nods, once, almost imperceptibly. “I don’t know what that was,” he admits. It’s the truth but it’s also a lie, because somewhere deep inside his wolf is howling with recognition, with joy, as if it’s found something it’s been searching for all its life.
Jeongguk’s hand twitches at his side, like he wants to reach out but doesn’t dare. “Jimin,” he says softly, and it’s the first time he’s said his name like that—reverent, full of something raw and unguarded.
Jimin’s eyes snap back to Jeongguk’s, and the look in them takes his breath away. They’re vulnerable, like he’s baring his soul, letting Jimin see something no one else has.
“I think…” Jeongguk starts, then hesitates, as if he’s afraid to say the words out loud. He swallows hard, and when he speaks again, his voice is softer, almost pleading. “I think we both know what it was.”
Jimin’s throat tightens, and he shakes his head, not because he doesn’t believe it but because he does, and that terrifies him. “You don’t know that,” he whispers, taking a step back. “We can’t know that.”
Jeongguk’s expression falters, but he doesn’t move closer. He stays where he is, giving Jimin the space he needs, even though everything in his body seems to be screaming at him to close the distance. “I felt it,” he says quietly. “You felt it too. Don’t deny it.”
Jimin squeezes his eyes shut, pressing his fingers to his temples as if he can force the overwhelming emotions back. He’s not ready for this, not ready to confront whatever this is between them. “Alpha, I–”
“Please don’t say you can’t do this,” Jeongguk interrupts, his scent betraying his desperation. “Please.”
“Jeongguk…”
“I can’t imagine what you must be feeling right now, I can’t begin to. But please don’t deny this,” he says, eyes shining. “Please, Jimin.”
Jimin’s heart skips, wolf left reeling at the alpha’s begging. He squeezes his eyes tighter and wills his heart to settle, for his mind to clear and nerves to stop their tingling. It feels like his whole body has been set aflame, each sense heightened and on edge, awaiting the next touch from the alpha before him. He breathes through his nerves and steadies himself as best he can.
“I need time,” he finally manages, his voice barely holding steady. “I-I need time to process this.”
“Okay,” Jeongguk says, surprising him with how quickly he agrees. There’s no frustration in his voice, no impatience—just a quiet understanding that tugs at Jimin’s heart. “Take all the time you need. I’ll wait.”
Jimin’s eyes snap open, and he looks up at Jeongguk in shock. “You’d wait?”
Jeongguk’s lips twitch into the barest hint of a smile, and he nods. “I would,” he says simply. “For you, I would.”
The sincerity in his voice, the softness in his eyes, is almost too much to bear. Jimin swallows hard, blinking back the tears that have gathered at the corners of his eyes. He takes a shaky step back, needing to put distance between them before he loses what little control he has left.
“I… I should go,” Jimin whispers. He doesn’t wait for a response before turning on his heel and fleeing the infirmary, his heart pounding in his chest as he races out into the cold night air. Every fiber of his being urging him to stay close to his mate.
Behind him, Jeongguk watches him go, the ache in his chest a bittersweet reminder of the truth he’s only just begun to understand. He lifts his hand, the one Jimin touched, and curls his fingers into a fist, holding onto the memory of the spark that ignited between them.
It’s the only proof he has, but it’s enough.
For now.
— — — —
The river runs steady and sure, its gentle murmur a soft lullaby that has always brought Jimin a sense of calm. It’s here, at his favorite spot by the water’s edge, where he finds himself in the wake of the moment he shared with Jeongguk. He’s not sure how long he’s been here, the sun beginning its slow descent, casting long shadows across the snow-covered landscape, painting everything in shades of gold and lavender. The air is crisp, biting against his exposed skin, but Jimin barely notices the cold. His mind is too full, his heart too heavy, the emotions inside him a tangled mess that he can’t seem to unravel.
He’s on his favorite rock, the one worn smooth by years of flowing water, knees drawn to his chest, his arms wrapped around them. The fabric of his furs presses against his face as he buries his head, breathing in the faint scent of home, of comfort. But underneath it, he can still smell Jeongguk—petrichor and pine, that earthy, grounding scent that clung to him even as he ran from the infirmary.
Jimin squeezes his eyes shut, willing the memory away. He can still feel the sensation of Jeongguk’s skin beneath his fingers, the spark that had jolted through him like a live wire. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before, a connection so immediate, so visceral, that it scared him. He’s spent his whole life dreaming of something like this—an unbreakable bond, a true mate—but now that it’s staring him in the face, he feels paralyzed by it.
“It’s too much,” he whispers to himself, his breath fogging the air in front of him. He shudders, not from the cold, but from the overwhelming fear that’s settled deep in his chest. It feels like staring out at a boundless sky. It’s vast and overwhelming, yet full of possibilities—it’s everything he’s ever wanted. But the thought of stepping towards it leaves him trembling, unsure if he’s ready to trust himself to the unknown.
He lets out a shuddering sigh, lifting his head to watch the river as it flows steadily by. The water catches the light of the setting sun, sparkling like a thousand tiny jewels. It’s beautiful here, serene, and Jimin finds himself wishing he could freeze this moment in time, hold onto the calm before everything changes.
But the sound of footsteps crunching in the snow behind him pulls him out of his reverie. Jimin doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is; the familiar scent of cocoa and cinnamon drifts toward him, wrapping around him like a warm embrace.
The footsteps pause for a moment, as if Yoongi is deciding whether or not to join him. Then there’s a soft sigh, and Jimin feels the rock shift slightly as Yoongi takes a seat beside him. They sit in silence for a long moment, neither speaking, just watching the river flow by. It’s a comfortable silence, one filled with memories that stretch back over seasons and years.
“I thought I might find you here,” Yoongi finally says, his voice low, almost reverent. He glances sideways at Jimin, his cat-like eyes softened by the fading light. “You always come here when you need to think.”
Jimin huffs out a soft, humorless laugh. “I guess some things never change,” he replies, his voice tinged with a sadness he can’t quite hide.
“No,” Yoongi agrees quietly, turning his gaze back to the river. “Some things don’t.”
They fall into silence again, but it’s not the easy, comfortable silence they once shared. It’s heavy, laden with everything that’s happened, with all the words left unspoken between them. Jimin can feel it pressing down on him, the weight of their shared past, of the love they once had and the bond that never formed.
“I’m sorry,” Yoongi says suddenly, the words coming out in a rush, as if he’s been holding them back for too long. He turns to face Jimin fully now, his expression open, vulnerable in a way Jimin has rarely seen. “I’m sorry for everything, Jimin. For how it ended for us.”
Jimin flinches at the raw honesty in Yoongi’s voice. He’s not sure what he expected when he sat down beside him, but it wasn’t this. He opens his mouth to respond, to tell him that it’s okay, that he’s forgiven him, but the words stick in his throat. Instead, he just shakes his head, staring down at his hands where they’re clasped tightly in his lap.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Jimin manages after a moment, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s hard to blame fate.”
“We weren’t strong enough to go up against fate,” Yoongi says softly, his eyes searching Jimin’s face.
Jimin feels a sharp pang in his chest at Yoongi’s words, the truth of them cutting deeper than he wants to admit. He swallows hard, blinking back the tears that have gathered at the corners of his eyes. “No,” he whispers. “We weren’t.”
Yoongi’s expression crumples for a moment, the calm mask he usually wears slipping away to reveal the grief underneath. He reaches out, hesitates, then gently takes Jimin’s hand in his own. The touch is familiar, comforting in a way that’s almost painful, and Jimin’s breath hitches at the contact.
“I loved you,” Yoongi says, his voice raw and unsteady. “I still do. But not in the way you deserve. Not in the way a true mate should love.”
Jimin squeezes his eyes shut, a single tear slipping down his cheek. He’s known this, deep down, for a long time. It’s why he never pushed for more, why he let the relationship drift into something softer, less defined. He was always afraid that if he demanded more, it would shatter the fragile thing they’d built together.
“I know,” Jimin whispers. He opens his eyes, meeting Yoongi’s gaze. “I loved you too.”
Yoongi’s thumb brushes across the back of Jimin’s hand, a gentle, soothing gesture. “I didn’t understand it before,” he admits, his voice low. “I didn’t understand what it meant to be a true mate until I found Taehyung. It’s… different. It’s not something you can force or pretend. It just is .”
The mention of Taehyung sends a fresh wave of pain crashing over Jimin, but he forces himself to breathe through it, to accept it. He nods, even though it feels like his heart is breaking all over again.
“I’m happy for you,” he says, and he means it, even if the words come out strained. “Taehyung is… he’s special. He deserves someone like you.”
Yoongi’s eyes soften, and he gives Jimin’s hand a gentle squeeze. “And you deserve someone who sees you the way I see Taehyung,” he says quietly. “Someone who can love you with everything they have.”
Jimin lets out a shaky breath, pulling his hand back and wrapping his arms around himself. “Maybe.”
Yoongi tilts his head, studying Jimin with a look that’s almost fatherly in its concern. “You felt it, didn’t you?” he asks gently. “With Jeongguk.”
Jimin’s head snaps up, his eyes wide with shock. He opens his mouth to deny it, to brush it off, but the look on Yoongi’s face stops him. Yoongi isn’t accusing—he’s understanding . He knows.
Jimin’s shoulders sag, and he drops his gaze to the ground. “I don’t know what I felt,” he admits. “It was… it was like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It scared me.”
Yoongi’s expression softens further, and he leans closer, lowering his voice as if he’s sharing a secret. “It’s supposed to scare you,” he says. “Because it’s real. Because it’s the kind of love that changes everything.”
Jimin swallows hard, his throat tight with emotion. He shakes his head, tears spilling over despite his best efforts to hold them back. “I don’t know if I can do it, Yoongi,” he whispers. “I don’t know if I can open myself up like that again. What if it’s not real? What if I’m just imagining it because I want it so badly?”
“Look at me,” Yoongi says softly.
Jimin hesitates, then slowly lifts his head. The look on Yoongi’s face is so full of love and understanding that it makes Jimin’s heart ache.
“It is real,” Yoongi says. “I can see it. I saw it when he looked at you. And I see it in the way you’re trembling right now, not because you’re afraid of him, but because you’re afraid of how much you want him.”
Jimin lets out a broken sob, burying his face in his hands. He’s shaking, his whole body trembling with the force of the emotions he’s tried so hard to bury. Yoongi pulls him into a tight embrace, holding him close as he cries, the sound muffled against Yoongi’s shoulder.
“You deserve this, Jimin,” Yoongi whispers into his hair. “You deserve a chance at real happiness. Don’t let your fear take that away from you.”
Jimin clutches at Yoongi’s furs, his fingers digging into the fabric as he cries harder. It’s a long time before he pulls back, wiping at his tear-streaked face with the sleeve of his coat. He feels raw, exposed, but lighter somehow, like the weight he’s been carrying has finally started to lift.
“Thank you,” he manages, his voice hoarse. He looks up at Yoongi, his eyes red-rimmed but sincere. “For everything.”
Yoongi’s smile is small, bittersweet. “You don’t have to thank me,” he says. “I want you to be happy, Jimin. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
Jimin nods, taking a deep, steadying breath. “I’ll try,” he says quietly. “I’ll try to let myself be happy.”
Yoongi’s smile widens, just a bit, and he cups the side of Jimin’s face, brushing his thumb across his cheek. “That’s all I needed to hear,” he says. He drops his hand and steps off the rock, giving Jimin one last look before turning to leave. He pauses, glancing over his shoulder with a playful smirk. “And if you need any advice on courting an alpha, you know where to find me.”
Jimin can’t help the small laugh that escapes him, watery but genuine. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
With that, Yoongi turns and heads back up the path, leaving Jimin alone by the river once more. The sun has dipped lower now, casting a warm, golden glow across the water. Jimin watches the light dance on the surface, feeling the last of his tears dry on his cheeks.
For the first time, he lets himself imagine it—what it might be like to let Jeongguk in, to take the chance Yoongi urged him to take. It’s terrifying, but beneath the fear is a flicker of something else, something that feels a lot like hope.
Jimin takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with the crisp, cold air, and releases it slowly. Maybe it’s time to take the leap.
— — — —
Jimin stands at the edge of the forest. The small guest cabin nestled in the clearing sits before him, illuminated by the soft glow of a lantern hanging by the door. His breath curls in front of him, clouding the air as he hesitates, heart pounding so loudly he swears it echoes through the silent woods. He’s been standing here for what feels like an eternity, trying to muster up the courage to take the final steps to the door. His fingers curl into fists at his sides, the cold seeping through his tattered mittens and biting at his skin, but he barely feels it.
He thinks of the conversation he had with Yoongi by the river, the way the older alpha’s eyes softened as he urged Jimin to take a chance on himself, to reach out for the happiness he’s always believed was beyond his grasp. Yoongi’s words linger in his mind, a quiet echo that has carried him this far. But standing here now, with Jeongguk so close, those words feel less like a lifeline and more like a challenge.
Jimin takes a deep, shuddering breath and steps forward, the snow crunching beneath his boots as he makes his way to the door. He raises his hand to knock, but before his knuckles can make contact with the wood, the door swings open.
Jeongguk stands in the doorway, framed by the warm light from inside the cabin. He’s dressed simply in a loose linen shirt and dark trousers, his hair mussed like he’s been running his fingers through it. The soft light casts shadows across his sharp features, making him look even more striking than usual, and for a moment Jimin forgets how to breathe.
“You’re here,” Jeongguk says, his voice tinged with surprise but eased by something that sounds a lot like relief.
Jimin swallows hard, nodding. He can’t seem to find his voice, the words tangled up in his throat. He watches as Jeongguk’s gaze sweeps over him, a flicker of concern crossing his face.
“Are you okay?” Jeongguk asks, stepping aside to make room for him. “It’s freezing out there. Come inside.”
Jimin steps past him into the warmth of the cabin, the door closing behind him with a quiet click. He takes in his surroundings as he sheds his furs, glancing around at the simple but cozy interior. A fire crackles in the hearth, casting a golden light across the room, and there’s a small table set with a pot of tea and two empty cups. It feels intimate, like Jeongguk has been waiting for him, and the thought sends a rush of warmth through Jimin’s chest.
Jeongguk stands a few feet away, watching him carefully, as if he’s afraid Jimin might bolt at any moment. “I wasn’t sure when—or if—you’d come,” he admits quietly, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous gesture Jimin hasn’t seen before.
Jimin looks down at his feet, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “I almost didn’t,” he says honestly. His voice is barely louder than a whisper, but in the silence of the cabin, it feels like a shout.
Jeongguk steps closer, but he doesn’t reach out. He keeps his hands at his sides, giving Jimin the space he needs. “What changed your mind?”
Jimin lifts his head, meeting Jeongguk’s gaze. He sees the worry there, the uncertainty, but also the same gentle warmth he’s felt before, the same unspoken promise of something real, something worth fighting for. He thinks of Yoongi’s words again, of the way they’ve lingered in his mind, urging him forward.
“I needed to see you,” Jimin says simply.
Jeongguk’s shoulders relax, some of the tension draining out of him at Jimin’s admission. He gestures to the small table by the fire. “Will you sit with me?”
Jimin hesitates, then nods. He follows Jeongguk to the table, lowering himself into one of the chairs. The warmth of the fire washes over him, soothing the chill that has settled deep in his bones. Jeongguk pours them each a cup of tea, the steam curling up into the air between them.
They sit in silence for a moment, the only sounds the crackling of the fire and the soft clink of the cups as they set them down on the table. Jimin wraps his hands around his cup, letting the heat seep into his cold fingers.
“I’ve been thinking a lot,” Jimin says finally, breaking the silence. He keeps his eyes fixed on the surface of his tea, watching the ripples dance across the liquid as his hands tremble. “About what happened in the infirmary. About… us.”
Jeongguk’s breath hitches, but he doesn’t interrupt. He simply watches Jimin, his expression open and patient, as if he’s willing to wait as long as it takes for Jimin to say what he needs to say.
Jimin takes a deep breath, lifting his gaze to meet Jeongguk’s. “I’m scared,” he admits, the words tumbling out before he can stop them. “I’m scared of what this means. Of what it could be.”
Jeongguk’s eyes soften, and he leans forward slightly, resting his forearms on the table. “You’re not the only one,” he says quietly. “I’ve never felt anything like this before, Jimin. It’s… overwhelming.”
Jimin lets out a shaky laugh, wiping at the corner of his eye with the back of his hand. “That’s one way to put it,” he mutters.
Jeongguk’s lips curve into a small smile, but it fades quickly as he searches Jimin’s face. “What are you afraid of?” he asks gently.
Jimin’s fingers tighten around his cup, his knuckles turning white. “Everything,” he says, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “I’m afraid of getting hurt. Of not being enough. Of the difference between us.”
Jeongguk’s brow furrows in confusion. “Difference?” he echoes. “What difference?”
Jimin looks away, his throat tightening. “You’re the heir to the Jeon Pack,” he says softly. “You’re highborn, respected. I’m just… I’m nothing. I’m a low-born omega who’s spent his whole life trying to scrape by. I don’t have anything to offer you.”
Jeongguk’s expression darkens, and he shakes his head, his eyes flashing with something fierce. “Don’t say that,” he snaps, his voice sharper than Jimin has ever heard it. He takes a deep breath, visibly calming himself before he continues. “You’re not nothing, Jimin. You’re everything . And I don’t care about status or rank or any of that. It doesn’t matter to me.”
Jimin flinches at the intensity in Jeongguk’s voice, but he doesn’t look away. “But it matters to everyone else,” he whispers. “Your pack, my pack—they’ll never see us as equals.”
Jeongguk pushes away from the table, standing up so abruptly that his chair scrapes against the floor. He paces across the room, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Then let them talk,” he says fiercely. “Let them think whatever they want. It won’t change the way I see you.”
Jimin’s heart twists painfully in his chest. “And how do you see me?” he asks, his voice small, uncertain.
Jeongguk stops pacing, turning to face him. There’s a rawness in his eyes, a vulnerability that Jimin hasn’t seen before. He steps closer, lowering himself to one knee in front of Jimin, so they’re eye to eye.
“I see you as someone who’s strong, and kind, and brave,” Jeongguk says, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I see you as someone who’s fought for everything he has, who’s never given up. I see you as someone who deserves to be loved, not in spite of who he is, but because of it.”
Tears well up in Jimin’s eyes, spilling over before he can stop them. He lets out a broken sob, covering his mouth with his hand. “You really mean that?” he chokes out.
Jeongguk reaches up, gently prying Jimin’s hand away from his mouth. He cradles it in his own, his thumb brushing soothingly across Jimin’s knuckles. “I mean every word,” he says softly. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
Jimin’s breath hitches, and he feels like he’s drowning in the intensity of Jeongguk’s gaze, in the sincerity that shines so clearly in his dark eyes. It’s terrifying, but it’s also the most beautiful thing he’s ever felt.
“Okay,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. He squeezes Jeongguk’s hand, clinging to it like a lifeline. “Okay. But can we take it slow?”
Jeongguk’s expression softens, the fierce look in his eyes melting into something tender. He nods immediately, squeezing Jimin’s hand back. “We’ll take it as slow as you need,” he promises, voice low and steady. “I’m not going anywhere.”
They don’t pull away, though, even after the words have settled between them. The silence is no longer heavy with uncertainty; it’s charged with something else entirely, an anticipation that vibrates through the very air. Jimin feels it like a current running beneath his skin, pulling him closer to the warmth of Jeongguk’s body, to the steady, grounding presence of the alpha who’s already become his safe haven.
Jimin’s hand lifts of its own accord, almost unconsciously, his fingers trembling as they hover in the space between them. He doesn’t know what he’s reaching for until his fingertips make contact with Jeongguk’s cheek, brushing against the soft skin there. It’s the lightest of touches, barely there, but it feels like the start of an avalanche. Jeongguk’s eyes flutter closed, a shiver running through him as he leans into the touch, his breath stuttering out of him like he’s been holding it in for hours.
Jimin’s heart races, pounding against his ribs as if it’s trying to break free. He’s never felt like this before—so exposed, so raw, like every nerve in his body is alight with sensation. The warmth of Jeongguk’s skin against his palm is intoxicating, a heady mix of comfort and yearning that makes him feel like he’s standing on the edge of something vast and unknown. He strokes his thumb across Jeongguk’s cheekbone, feeling the slight indent of a scar there, and the alpha’s breath hitches, his eyes snapping open.
They lock eyes, and the world seems to narrow down to just the two of them, the small space between their bodies shrinking as if it’s being pulled taut by an invisible thread. Jeongguk’s gaze is dark, pupils blown wide with something primal, something that sends a thrill of heat spiraling through Jimin’s veins. He can feel the alpha’s heartbeat pounding against his own, their breaths mingling in the small space between their lips.
Jimin leans in closer, drawn in by the magnetic pull that thrums between them. He can feel Jeongguk’s breath against his lips, warm and ragged, and it makes his own breath come faster, his chest heaving with the effort to keep himself steady. He’s so close now, close enough to count the tiny flecks of gold in Jeongguk’s eyes, to see the way his lashes flutter against his cheek. He can feel the heat of Jeongguk’s body, the solid warmth of his chest, and it makes something deep inside him ache with want.
“Jeongguk,” he whispers, the name a plea that he can’t hold back. It slips from his lips before he can stop it, filled with all the longing he’s kept bottled up, all the fear and hope he’s too afraid to voice.
Jeongguk’s hand tightens around his, his grip almost painful in its intensity, like he’s clinging to the last thread of his restraint. He looks at Jimin with a gaze that’s near wild, scent filled with a yearning that’s mirrored in Jimin’s own heart. “Jimin,” he breathes, and the sound of his name in that voice sends a shiver racing down Jimin’s spine.
They’re so close now, barely a breath apart, and Jimin’s eyes flutter shut as he tilts his head, his lips parting in anticipation. He can almost taste it, the kiss he’s been imagining since the moment he first realized what he felt for the alpha. It would be so easy to close the distance, to press his mouth against Jeongguk’s and lose himself in the sensation, to drown in the heat and the want that pulses between them like a living thing.
But just as he starts to lean in, Jeongguk leans back, his grip on Jimin’s hand tightening painfully before he lets go entirely. He squeezes his eyes shut, his chest heaving with the effort to breathe, like he’s been underwater for too long and has only just broken the surface.
“Jimin,” Jeongguk says, his voice rough, strained with the force of his restraint. He rises and takes a step back, putting distance between them even though it clearly costs him. His hand comes up to cover his mouth, as if he’s trying to physically hold himself back from reaching for Jimin again. “If I kiss you now… I won’t be able to stop.”
The raw honesty in his voice leaves Jimin breathless. He’s rooted to the spot, his body humming with unfulfilled desire, his heart aching with the knowledge that Jeongguk wants this—wants him —just as much. It’s almost unbearable, this tension crackling between them, the way they’re both teetering on the edge of something that could change everything.
“What if I don’t want you to?” Jimin whispers, his voice trembling with need. He stands from his chair and steps closer, reaching out like he’s going to touch him again, but he stops himself at the last second, his hand hovering in the air between them.
Jeongguk lets out a harsh, broken laugh, dropping his hand from his mouth to rake it through his hair. “It’s not that simple,” he says, his voice low and desperate. He looks at Jimin with eyes that are filled with a deep, aching want, and it makes Jimin’s knees go weak. “If I start… I won’t be able to stop myself from taking this further. And that doesn’t work well with us going slow.”
Jimin’s heart clenches painfully at the raw vulnerability in Jeongguk’s voice. He takes a step closer, bridging the small gap between them, and reaches out, gently cupping Jeongguk’s face in his hands. The alpha shudders at the touch, his eyes slipping shut as he leans into Jimin’s palms like he can’t help himself.
“Then we’ll take it slow,” Jimin says softly. He strokes his thumb across Jeongguk’s cheek, feeling the way the alpha trembles under his touch. “We’ll take it one step at a time. But don’t push me away because you’re afraid of what might happen.”
Jeongguk’s eyes snap open, and the look in them is so intense, so filled with longing, that it takes Jimin’s breath away. He feels like he’s standing on the edge of a precipice, teetering on the brink of something vast and unknown, and he knows that if he falls, Jeongguk will be there to catch him.
“I’m not pushing you away,” Jeongguk says, his voice rough and unsteady. He lifts his hand to cover Jimin’s, pressing it against his cheek like he’s trying to memorize the feel of it. “I’m holding on as tight as I can.”
Jimin’s heart stutters in his chest, and he feels a tear slip down his cheek, unbidden. He doesn’t know why he’s crying, doesn’t understand the depth of the emotion welling up inside him, but it feels like something is breaking open, something he’s kept locked away for too long.
“Then don’t let go,” he whispers.
“Never,” Jeongguk promises. He holds Jimin’s gaze, as if willing him to understand the depth of his words. Jimin feels something shift inside him, an almost audible click, like a piece of himself falling into place. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
Jimin clears his throat, trying to shake off the intensity of the moment. He lowers his hand from Jeongguk’s face, though it feels like tearing a part of himself away. He glances down, his eyes catching on Jeongguk’s shirt, where a faint bloodstain has soaked into the fabric, and concern flares up in his chest.
“How’s your injury?” Jimin asks softly, nodding toward Jeongguk’s abdomen. He tries to keep his voice light, but he can’t quite hide the upset that bleeds into the words.
Jeongguk glances down at himself as if he’s only just remembered the wound. He lifts the edge of his shirt slightly, revealing the bandage wrapped tightly around his torso. It’s still stained with blood, but it looks cleaner than it had before, the edges of the wound peeking out from beneath the gauze. Jimin winces at the sight, worry twisting in his gut.
“It’s healing,” Jeongguk says with a small shrug. He drops his shirt, covering the wound again. “Though I have to admit, it’s been a bit slower than usual. I think my pack healer would be horrified if she knew how careless I was in training.”
Jimin bites his lip, his fingers itching to reach out and touch the injury, to soothe the pain he knows Jeongguk must still be feeling. “You should rest,” he says, his voice firmer now, taking on the no-nonsense tone he usually reserves for scolding his friends. “You can’t go pushing yourself, not if you want it to heal properly.”
Jeongguk’s lips twitch into a small, amused smile. “Are you scolding me, Omega?”
Jimin huffs, crossing his arms over his chest as he levels Jeongguk with a stern look. “Yes,” he says, unflinching. “I am. You might be the heir to the Jeon Pack, but that doesn’t mean you’re invincible.”
Jeongguk’s smile widens, and he reaches out, hooking a finger under Jimin’s chin to tilt his face up. The touch is gentle, affectionate, and it sends a shiver racing down Jimin’s spine. “I like it when you worry about me,” Jeongguk murmurs. “It makes me feel cared for.”
Jimin’s cheeks flush a deep red, and he swats Jeongguk’s hand away, though there’s no real force behind the gesture. “Idiot,” he mutters, but the word is softened by the fond smile tugging at his lips.
Jeongguk’s smile is soft, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he watches Jimin’s flustered reaction, the alpha’s hand still lingering where it brushed against Jimin’s cheek. It feels like the room has shrunk, the air between them buzzing with a quiet, unspoken energy that neither of them seems willing to break. Jimin’s fingers twitch at his sides, caught between the urge to reach out again and the instinct to retreat.
It’s then that Jeongguk suddenly blurts out, almost like he can’t hold it back any longer, “Come with me to the festival tomorrow.”
The words hang in the air, startlingly direct. Jimin blinks, caught completely off guard, his mouth opening and closing as he struggles to find his voice. He hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected Jeongguk to ask him so plainly, without any preamble or hesitation. It’s not that he doesn’t want to; the thought of spending time with Jeongguk, of being with him in the open, sends a thrill of anticipation coursing through him. But there’s also a rush of anxiety that follows, tightening his chest.
“W-What?” Jimin stammers, his cheeks flushing a deep pink. He steps back slightly, looking away as if he can hide the sudden surge of shyness that’s taken hold of him. “You… you want me to go with you?”
Jeongguk’s smile falters, just for a second, before it returns even brighter. He nods eagerly, taking a step closer, his presence warm and reassuring. “Yes, after my meeting with the elders midday” he says, his voice gentler now, as if he can sense Jimin’s hesitation. “I want you to come with me.”
Jimin swallows hard, his heart thudding loudly in his ears. He glances down, his fingers twisting nervously in the hem of his shirt. “But… everyone will see us,” he mumbles. “They’ll wonder why we’re together. They’ll talk.”
Jeongguk tilts his head, watching Jimin with a soft, thoughtful expression. He takes Jimin’s hand, threading their fingers together, and squeezes gently. “Let them talk. I don’t care what they think, Jimin. I want to spend time with you. I want to walk through the festival with you by my side.”
Jimin’s breath catches, and he looks up, meeting Jeongguk’s gaze. There’s no hesitation there, no flicker of doubt. Just a quiet, steady sincerity that makes Jimin’s chest ache with something warm and tender. He wants this too—wants it so badly it scares him. But the thought of standing by Jeongguk’s side, of being seen together, feels like stepping into the spotlight, and he’s not sure he’s ready for that.
“But what if—” Jimin starts, but Jeongguk cuts him off, squeezing his hand again.
“It’s just a festival,” Jeongguk says softly, coaxing. He takes another small step closer, their bodies almost brushing now. “It’s just you and me, Jimin. We don’t have to think about anyone else. We can just… enjoy it together.”
Jimin hesitates, searching Jeongguk’s face for any hint of insincerity, but there’s none. The alpha’s expression is open, his dark eyes filled with a gentle kind of hope, like he’s offering Jimin something precious and fragile. The way he’s looking at Jimin, like he’s the only person in the world, makes Jimin’s resistance crumble.
He takes a deep, shaky breath, his fingers tightening around Jeongguk’s. “Okay,” he whispers. He feels a shy, hesitant smile tug at his lips as he finally looks up at Jeongguk. “I’ll go with you.”
Jeongguk’s smile blooms, bright and beautiful, like the sun breaking through the clouds. He looks almost boyish in his excitement, his eyes sparkling as he beams at Jimin. “You will?” he asks, like he can hardly believe it.
Jimin nods, feeling the last of his anxiety melt away under the warmth of Jeongguk’s gaze. “I will,” he repeats, a bit more confidently this time.
Jeongguk’s grin widens, his eyes sparkling with delight. He takes a small step back, but doesn’t let go of Jimin’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze instead. “Then it’s a date,” he says, his voice soft but filled with a playful lilt that makes Jimin’s cheeks flush a deeper shade of red.
Jimin opens his mouth to respond, but before he can find the words, Jeongguk is already tugging him gently toward the door. “Come on,” Jeongguk says, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “It’s late, and I’m not letting you walk home alone in this cold.”
Jimin blinks in surprise, but then he huffs out a soft laugh, letting Jeongguk lead him. “You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?”
“No,” Jeongguk replies easily, the grin still plastered on his face. He releases Jimin’s hand for just a moment, long enough to grab his furs from where they’re draped over the back of a chair, before slipping them on and holding the door open. “After you.”
Jimin steps past him, out into the cold night air, and immediately shivers as the icy breeze nips at his exposed skin. The moon is high in the sky now, casting a silver glow across the snow-covered ground, making everything look almost dreamlike. He hears the soft click of the door shutting behind him, and then Jeongguk is at his side once more, close enough that Jimin can feel the heat radiating from his body.
As they near Jimin’s cottage, Jeongguk slows to a stop, turning to face him. He lifts a hand to gently brush a strand of hair away from Jimin’s face, his touch lingering just a second longer than necessary. “Goodnight, Jimin,” he says, his voice low, filled with a kind of tenderness that makes Jimin’s heart flutter.
“Goodnight, Jeongguk,” Jimin whispers back, feeling breathless.
Jeongguk’s smile softens, and he takes a step back, giving Jimin one last lingering look before turning to leave. Jimin watches him go, standing there until Jeongguk disappears down the path.
When he shuts the door, Jimin feels like he’s floating, his heart lighter than it’s been in years. He presses his back to the door and he brings a hand to his chest, feeling the rapid beat beneath his palm, and lets out a breathless laugh.
For the first time in ages, it feels like something wonderful is within his reach. And for the first time in ages, he’s ready to embrace it.
— — — —
The market buzzes with activity as vendors set up their stalls and pack members wander through the square, preparing for the celebrations. Jimin lingers at the edge of the marketplace, his scarf pulled snugly around his neck, his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat. Despite the cold, the air is thick with warmth and life—the scent of pine mingles with roasted chestnuts, sweet pastries, and the faint tang of spiced cider.
He hadn’t meant to come this early. The idea of braving the festival crowds alone fills him with nerves, and yet here he is, feet having carried him instinctively to the square. Maybe, he admits quietly to himself, it is because of Jeongguk. The alpha has an uncanny ability to draw him in, to make him feel like being seen isn’t something to be feared. That, and Jimin can’t deny the anticipation curling in his stomach at the thought of seeing him again.
He spots Jeongguk before Jeongguk sees him. He’s in a group of alphas splitting logs for the bonfire, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows despite the biting chill in the air. His hair is pulled into a loose knot at the nape of his neck, though a few strands have escaped to frame his features. Jimin stills, transfixed as he watches Jeongguk swing the axe, splitting the wood cleanly and stacking it with practiced ease. Each swing is precise, effortless, and the way the alpha moves is a quiet display of strength and control.
Jimin’s cheeks flush as his eyes linger, drawn to the way Jeongguk’s muscles flex beneath his shirt. The alpha is entirely focused on his work, unaware of the effect he is having on Jimin. The sight makes Jimin’s stomach flip, his heart thudding loudly in his chest. He tries to look away, but it is no use. It is as if Jeongguk has an invisible pull, his presence magnetic and all-consuming.
Unfortunately, Jimin’s focus on Jeongguk means he completely misses the uneven cobblestones beneath his feet. His boot catches on one of the stones, and before he can steady himself, he stumbles forward, crashing into a nearby vendor’s stall.
A basket of apples wobbles precariously on the tabletop. Jimin yelps, scrambling to steady the table before the apples tip over, but it is too late. The bright red fruit scatters across the snow, his cheeks burning as the vendor shoots him an amused look. Jimin quickly drops to his knees to start gathering the apples before Jeongguk sees him.
“Jimin?” The voice is low, familiar, and laced with concern. Jimin freezes, his hands full of fruit, and slowly looks up to see Jeongguk approaching, the axe in one hand and a towel slung over his shoulder. The alpha’s brows are furrowed, his dark eyes scanning Jimin for any sign of injury. “Are you alright?”
“I—I’m fine,” Jimin stammers, clutching the apples like they might shield him from Jeongguk’s gaze. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
Jeongguk sets the axe aside and crouches down beside him, helping to gather the scattered fruit. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice soft but insistent. “You didn’t hurt yourself?”
Jimin shakes his head quickly, desperate to salvage what little dignity he has left. “No, I’m fine. Really.”
Jeongguk doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he nods, his lips twitching in what looks suspiciously like a smile. They each reach for an apple at the same time, their fingers brushing briefly, and Jimin feels a spark of warmth shoot up his arm. Jeongguk grabs the apple, setting it with the rest of the fallen fruit.
“Here,” Jeongguk says, standing and offering Jimin a hand to help him up. Jimin hesitates for a fraction of a second before accepting, letting the alpha pull him to his feet with ease.
“Thanks,” Jimin mumbles, his cheeks still burning. He turns to the vendor, bowing his head in apology. “I’m so sorry about that. I’ll pay for anything that’s damaged.”
The vendor waves him off with a good-natured laugh. “No harm done,” she says. “Though maybe next time you should watch where you’re going, young man.”
Jimin ducks his head further, feeling his embarrassment multiply tenfold. “I’ll be more careful,” he promises, placing the apples back into the basket and setting it on the table.
When he turns back to Jeongguk, the alpha is watching him with open amusement, his arms crossed over his chest. “You really know how to make an entrance,” Jeongguk teases, his lips curving into a grin that makes Jimin’s stomach flip.
Jimin glares at him half-heartedly, though the effect is ruined by the blush creeping up his neck. “You’re not helping.”
The alpha chuckles, his scent sparking with mischief. “I’m just saying. I’ve never seen anyone trip over thin air quite so gracefully.”
“I wasn’t that bad,” Jimin huffs.
“You knocked over an entire basket of apples,” Jeongguk points out, his grin widening. “I think that qualifies as that bad.”
Jimin opens his mouth to retort but stops when he catches Jeongguk’s gaze lingering on him, softer now, the teasing giving way to something warmer. “What?” Jimin asks, his voice quieter.
“Nothing,” Jeongguk shakes his head, his smile turning a little sheepish. “Come on. Let’s walk around for a bit.”
He nods, falling into step beside the alpha as they wander through the bustling marketplace. The vibrant colors of the stalls and the chatter of the crowd create a festive atmosphere, and Jimin finds himself relaxing as they move through the square.
They slow as they pass a stall selling polished stones and jewelry, the sunlight catching on the smooth surfaces. Jimin pauses, letting his fingers brush over a pale green stone that gleams faintly in the light. Jeongguk stops beside him, his gaze briefly following Jimin’s movements before drifting over the display.
“This one reminds me of you,” Jimin says without thinking, holding up the green stone. He feels the words leave his mouth before he can catch them, and when he glances at Jeongguk, the alpha raises a brow, amusement flickering in his eyes.
“Me?” Jeongguk asks, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
Jimin flushes, quickly setting the stone back on the tray. “It’s just… calming, I guess,” he mumbles. “Like you.”
Jeongguk’s smile widens, though he doesn’t comment further. Instead, he picks up a small blue stone, turning it over in his fingers. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should,” Jimin says softly, though he avoids meeting Jeongguk’s gaze as he starts walking again. Jeongguk follows without a word, the lively sounds of the marketplace filling the silence between them.
As they pass a stall selling thick wool mittens, Jimin slows again, his attention snagging on a simple cream-colored pair embroidered with delicate snowflakes. His fingers trail over the soft fabric, his mind briefly wandering to his own tattered mittens at home, sitting on his table in need of mending. He lingers, tracing the stitching absently, but when Jeongguk stops beside him, he quickly lets his hand fall and steps back.
“Not getting them?” Jeongguk asks casually, though his tone carries no pressure.
“I should probably fix the ones I already have,” Jimin replies, forcing a lightness to his voice. “They’ve got a little life left in them.”
Jeongguk hums and they move on.
After a few steps, Jimin glances sideways at Jeongguk. “This is your first time leading the delegation here, right?”
“It is,” Jeongguk replies, his expression softening. “I officially stepped into the role last spring.”
“That must’ve been… a lot,” Jimin says hesitantly, encouraged by Jeongguk’s openness. “The Jeon Pack is… well, it’s so important. I imagine there’s a lot to prepare for.”
Jeongguk’s gaze shifts toward the horizon, his steps slowing slightly. “It wasn’t exactly planned. My older brother was the heir. He was… everything a leader should be. Strong, wise, capable.” He pauses, his jaw tightening slightly. “When he passed, it all fell to me.”
Jimin’s chest tightens at the quiet pain in Jeongguk’s tone. He doesn’t push, giving Jeongguk space to continue.
“For a long time, I didn’t think I could do it. I was grieving, and suddenly I had this weight on my shoulders—decisions to make, people depending on me. I didn’t have time to process any of it. I just… had to act.” He lets out a shaky breath. "And it wasn't easy. My father...he wasn't exactly supportive. He saw me as a failure, a shadow of my brother. It was like he expected me to grieve and lead perfectly at the same time, without a single misstep."
“That’s awful,” Jimin says. “Losing someone so close and having to take on so much all at once, especially with that kind of pressure… it must have been so much to deal with.”
Jeongguk’s gaze shifts to him, and he gives a small nod. “It was. But the pack needed me. I didn’t have the luxury of faltering.”
“Still, coming here, taking on these responsibilities, shows just how strong you are.”
“I’ve had help. The pack elders guided me when I didn’t know what to do, and my people… they’ve been patient with me.”
“That says a lot about you. People don’t follow someone they don’t trust. You must be doing something right.”
Jeongguk lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “You’re kind, Omega. I’m not sure I deserve that much credit.”
“You do,” Jimin says, surprising himself with the conviction in his voice. “It’s not easy to lead. And it’s even harder to do so while carrying grief and facing doubt from those closest to you."
“Thank you.” Jeongguk glances at him, his shoulders relaxing slightly.
They walk in silence for a moment before Jimin speaks again, his voice quieter this time. “I… lost my parents when I was younger,” he says, his fingers brushing absently against the edge of his coat. “It was sudden. One moment, everything was fine, and the next… everything changed.”
Jeongguk’s steps slow, his gaze turning toward Jimin. “How old were you?”
“I had just turned seventeen. My brother was nearly thirteen. He didn’t understand much about what was happening, so I had to… figure things out for the both of us. Make sure he was okay. Make up for all we’d lost.”
“That’s a lot of weight to carry so young.”
“It was,” Jimin admits, though there’s no bitterness in his tone. “But he’s an adult now, and he’s doing well for himself. That makes it worth it, you know? Knowing that he’s okay.”
Jeongguk nods. “I get that. My people kept me going, too. Even when it felt impossible. The thought of letting them down… I couldn’t allow it.”
Jimin offers him a small, knowing smile. “You didn’t. You’re here, leading them. That’s something to be proud of.”
Jeongguk’s lips curve into a faint smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I guess so. Sometimes, though… I wonder if my brother would’ve done it better. If he were here.”
“I think it’s natural to wonder,” Jimin says gently. “But you can’t live in what-ifs. You’re here, Jeongguk, and from what I’ve seen, you’re doing everything you can for your pack. That’s enough.”
For a moment, Jeongguk is silent, his gaze distant as if turning over Jimin’s words in his mind. “It must’ve been hard for you, too. Losing your parents, raising your brother. You make it sound so simple, but it couldn’t have been.”
“It wasn’t,” Jimin admits, his voice quiet. “But it taught me a lot. About responsibility, about sacrifice. About how resilient people can be, even when they don’t think they can be.”
“Resilient,” Jeongguk repeats softly. “I like that.”
Jeongguk turns to look at him, the respect in his gaze making Jimin’s cheeks flush slightly.
As they continue walking, the rich scent of spiced cider wafts through the air, drawing both of their gazes to a nearby stall. Without a word, Jeongguk steers them toward it, fishing a few coins from his pocket.
“Two, please,” he says, and before Jimin can protest, he’s handed a steaming cup. Jeongguk offers it with a small smile, the warmth of his gesture matching the heat of the drink.
Jimin hesitates, but the inviting aroma and Jeongguk’s easy expression make it hard to refuse. “Thank you,” he murmurs, wrapping his hands around the cup to soak in its warmth.
Jeongguk takes a sip from his own cup, his gaze drifting over the bustling marketplace before landing back on Jimin. “So,” he says, his tone lighter now, “do you have a favorite part of the festival?”
“The bonfire. It’s always been my favorite. There’s something just so… magical about it.”
“I can see that. There's something about standing around the fire with everyone, feeling like you’re a part of something bigger.”
Jimin glances at him, surprised by the quiet depth in his voice. “Have you been to many solstice festivals?”
“Not as many as you’d think,” Jeongguk admits. “My father always made sure there was something for me to do instead—meetings, negotiations, training. I don’t get to enjoy things like this very often.”
Jimin frowns slightly, his brows knitting together. “That sounds lonely.”
“It can be, but I have a good feeling tonight will be different,” Jeongguk says. “With you by my side how could I be?”
Jimin’s cheeks flush at the sincerity in Jeongguk’s tone, and he ducks his head slightly, unable to hold the alpha’s gaze for too long. “You’re good at that,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible.
“Good at what?” Jeongguk asks, his lips quirking into a small smile.
“At saying things that make me feel like this,” Jimin replies, glancing up briefly to gesture vaguely at the space between them, where the air seems charged with an electric connection.
Jeongguk’s grin softens, and he steps closer, just enough that Jimin can catch the faint scent of pine and petrichor that seems to wrap around him like a warm blanket. “That’s not a bad thing, is it?” he asks, his voice low.
“No,” Jimin shakes his head quickly, his fingers tightening around his cup. “Just… new.”
Before Jeongguk can respond, the sound of someone clearing their throat draws both of their attention. Jimin turns, startled, to see Namjoon standing nearby.
“Alpha Jeon. Jimin,” Namjoon says, inclining his head in greeting.
“Alpha Kim,” Jimin says, bowing slightly out of habit.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Namjoon offers a small, almost apologetic smile, “but Omega Taehyung requests your presence at his residence. It’s nothing urgent, but he would like to speak with you before tonight’s festivities.”
Jimin hesitates, glancing back at Jeongguk, who has straightened to his full height. The alpha’s expression is calm, but his dark eyes have narrowed slightly, his shoulders tensing in a way that speaks volumes. Jimin catches the faint shift in Jeongguk’s scent—it darkens subtly, a shadow of something protective threading through the familiar notes of pine and petrichor.
“Of course,” Jimin says, his voice soft. He turns fully toward Jeongguk, his hands twisting nervously in his furs. “I should go, then. But… I’ll see you tonight? At the bonfire?”
Jeongguk’s gaze softens at the question, the tension in his posture easing just a fraction. “You’ll see me,” he says, his voice quiet but certain.
Jimin nods, his fingers lingering against Jeongguk’s for a brief moment before he turns away.
Namjoon inclines his head politely toward Jeongguk. “Alpha Jeon.”
“Alpha Kim,” Jeongguk replies, his tone neutral but edged with a subtle firmness. His dark eyes flick briefly to Jimin, his expression unreadable, though the faint darkening of his scent lingers in the air.
Namjoon seems to catch it, his lips twitching in what might be a knowing smile. He turns to Jimin, gesturing toward the path leading out of the square. “Shall we?”
Jimin nods quickly, casting one last glance at Jeongguk before following Namjoon. As they walk, Jimin catches Namjoon sending him a look with a grin on his lips.
“What is it?” Jimin asks.
“Oh nothing,” Namjoon says, his grin widening as he glances back toward the square where Jeongguk remains, his gaze firmly fixed on them.
Jimin tugs at the edges of his furs, biting his lip to hide a flustered smile.
By the time they reach Taehyung’s residence, Jimin’s heart has settled somewhat, though the thought of Jeongguk still lingers at the forefront of his mind. As Namjoon holds the door open for him, Jimin pauses, glancing back toward the square. He can’t see Jeongguk from where they stand, but he can still feel the bond tugging at him, a reminder that he isn’t alone. He takes a deep breath, letting the thought ground him.
The door creaks lowly as Jimin steps inside, the warmth of the room greeting him in contrast to the chill that lingers outside. The familiar scent of lavender and chamomile hangs in the air, a quiet balm that reminds him of simpler times, of late nights spent talking with Taehyung about everything and nothing.
He pauses just inside the entryway, his scarf still clutched tightly in his hands. Taehyung is sitting in his usual spot near the fireplace, his long legs stretched out in front of him and a steaming cup of tea balanced on his knee. He looks calm, but his posture is slightly stiff, the way it always is when he is worried about something.
As Jimin steps closer, Taehyung glances up. “Jimin,” he says, his voice warm but cautious. “You came.”
“Alpha Kim said you wanted to see me,” Jimin replies softly.
Taehyung sets his cup down on the small table beside him and motions toward the chair across from him. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Jimin lowers himself into the chair, draping his scarf over the back and clasping his hands in his lap. He fidgets absently, glancing at Taehyung. His best friend’s expression is open, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in his gaze—something unspoken that lingers between them. The tension feels unnatural, and Jimin hates it.
“Were you worried I wouldn’t come?” Jimin asks after a beat, breaking the silence.
Taehyung hesitates, then nods. “I would’ve understood if you didn’t.”
Jimin’s heart twists. “I’ll always come when you call, Tae.”
Taehyung swallows hard, his eyes flickering briefly to the fire. “I just wasn’t sure,” he admits. “Y’know…because of the space and all.”
“I thought some time apart would help,” Jimin says quietly, hands tightening in his lap.
“Help who, Min?” Taehyung asks. “Me? Or you?”
Jimin looks down, shame heating his cheeks. “Both, I guess. After everything… I couldn’t stand to look at you. And I figured you wouldn’t want to see me either.”
Taehyung leans forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. “Do you still feel that way?”
Jimin raises his head to meet Taehyung’s gaze, the sincerity in his friend’s expression making his chest ache. “No,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not anymore. Now I just feel the guilt. I hate that I hurt you.”
“Jimin—”
“I’m sorry,” Jimin interrupts, his voice trembling as he looks back down at his hands. “I’m so sorry, Taehyung.”
Taehyung shifts in his seat, his voice steady but gentle. “Min, you don’t have to—”
“Please, Tae,” Jimin says, glancing up with wide, imploring eyes. “Let me explain.”
Taehyung leans back, giving him space. “Okay,” he says simply.
Jimin takes a shaky breath, gathering his thoughts. “Seeing you with Yoongi was… almost unbearable,” he admits, his voice wavering. He looks up briefly, catching the flicker of guilt in Taehyung’s expression. “I was impossibly in love with him and then in an instant, he was yours forever.”
Taehyung flinches slightly, his gaze dropping to his lap. “I didn’t mean for it to happen the way it did, Min. You have to know that.”
“I know,” Jimin says quickly. “I know it wasn’t your fault, Tae. The bond is what it is. But it didn’t make it any easier to face you. I was so angry, so hurt, and I hated myself for feeling that way. You’re my best friend, and I didn’t know how to handle it.”
Taehyung looks up, his expression pained but resolute. “You don’t have to apologize for your feelings, Jimin. I hated seeing you in pain. I still hate it.”
Jimin swallows hard, his fingers twisting in the fabric of his coat. “It doesn’t hurt the way it did before,” he says quietly. "Not since I met Jeongguk."
Taehyung's brow furrows slightly, his expression curious.
"The bond," Jimin continues, his voice trembling. "It makes everything… make sense. It's like this thread pulling me toward him, like he's the only thing that matters. I thought I understood what love felt like before, but this is something else entirely. It's in my veins, my bones—like I'd die without it."
Taehyung watches him intently, the flicker of guilt in his eyes replaced with understanding.
"And that's why I feel so awful, Tae," Jimin says, his voice breaking. "Because now I know. I know how fragile and new it all feels, how terrifying it is to be bound to someone so completely. And instead of being there for you when you were feeling all of that with Yoongi, I made it worse. I let my own pain get in the way of supporting you."
Taehyung leans forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees as he shakes his head. "Jimin, you were hurting. I knew that. I didn’t expect you to be okay with it, at least not right away."
"But I could’ve been better," Jimin says, his voice rising with emotion. "I could’ve tried harder to understand instead of shutting you out. Instead of making you feel like you had to choose." He looks at Taehyung, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I know now that there’s no better feeling than having a true mate. Knowing that someone is yours, in every way that matters—it’s everything. And I should’ve celebrated that for you, not let my own heartbreak ruin it."
Taehyung’s scent reaches Jimin, calming and familiar. It wraps him in comfort, soothing his distress as Taehyung replies. "You’re being too hard on yourself, Min. I didn’t blame you then, and I don’t blame you now. You’ve always cared about me, and even when you were hurting, I knew that. You never stopped being my best friend, even when things were messy."
Jimin shakes his head, a tear slipping down his cheek. "I just wanted to be happy for you, Tae. You deserved that, and I couldn't give it to you."
"You gave me more than you realize," Taehyung says gently, reaching out to take Jimin’s hand in his own. "You gave me time. You gave me the space to let the bond settle, to figure things out with Yoongi. And now we’re here. You’re here. That’s what matters to me."
Jimin stares at him, his chest tight with a mixture of regret and gratitude. "I don’t deserve you," he whispers.
"You do," Taehyung says firmly, squeezing his hand. "You always have. And you’re right—having a true mate is everything. And it’s also terrifying at first. But if Jeongguk makes you feel even a fraction of what Yoongi makes me feel, I know you’ll be okay."
Jimin blinks, a small, hesitant smile forming on his lips. "He does."
Taehyung smiles, his eyes warm. "Then trust that, Jimin. And trust yourself. You’re stronger than you think, and you deserve this."
Jimin lets out a shaky breath, nodding. "Thank you, Tae. For everything."
"Always. We’re in this together, Min. No matter what."
As Taehyung leans back in his chair, an all-too-familiar glint of mischief lights in his eyes. Jimin knows that look, and it instantly puts him on edge.
“Now,” Taehyung begins, drawing out the word dramatically, “onto the important stuff. Tell me what Alpha Jeon is really like. And don’t give me the ‘oh, he’s so kind and thoughtful’ speech. I want the nitty-gritty, good stuff.”
“Tae, please—” Jimin groans, already regretting wherever this conversation is headed.
“No, no, you’re not getting out of this,” Taehyung interrupts, sitting up and leaning forward with a grin. “Is he broody? Mysterious? Does he talk in riddles? Oh!” His grin widens devilishly. “Is he as… endowed as the rumors say?”
“Tae!” Jimin hisses, hiding his burning face in his hands. “You’re unbearable!”
“Am I wrong, though?” Taehyung sings, leaning so far forward he’s nearly out of his chair. “Have you… confirmed the gossip, or…?”
“I am not answering that,” Jimin snaps, his voice muffled behind his hands.
“Oh, come on!” Taehyung laughs, sitting back again but still looking far too pleased with himself. “I’m just asking what everyone else is dying to know. Surely the bond gives you some insight, hmm?”
Jimin lowers his hands just enough to glare at Taehyung, though it lacks any real heat. “You’re the worst.”
“And yet you love me.”
“Unfortunately,” Jimin mutters, though the corners of his mouth twitch upward despite himself.
Taehyung grins triumphantly. “Fine, fine, I’ll stop. For now. But really, what’s he like? How does he make you feel?”
Jimin hesitates, his embarrassment ebbing slightly as the question lands. He fidgets with the hem of his furs, his gaze dropping. “He makes me feel… seen. Like I don’t have to prove anything to him. Like I’m enough just the way I am.”
“Well good. Because it’s true, Min.” Taehyung’s teasing grin fades, replaced by something warmer. “You deserve that.”
Jimin nods, his chest feeling lighter. “Yeah,” he says softly. “Yeah, I do.”
— — — —
After spending the remainder of the afternoon at Taehyung’s, Jimin makes his way back to the square. The sun is slowly dipping below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the snowy village. The solstice moon, full and luminous, begins its ascent into the night sky.
Jimin walks through the village, his steps light and his heart full. The weight that had been pressing on his chest for so long has finally lifted, replaced by a gentle warmth that spreads through his body with each breath. The conversation with Taehyung has left him feeling lighter, more at peace than he has in a while.
As he nears the center of the village, the sounds of laughter and music drift through the air, carried on a crisp breeze that ruffles his hair. The air is thick with the scent of woodsmoke, mulled wine, and roasted meat. It's intoxicating, and Jimin feels himself getting swept up in the festive atmosphere.
Ahead, the bonfire itself is a towering inferno, its flames reaching high into the sky. Sparks dance on the wind, swirling upward like fireflies before fading into the darkness. The heat of it washes over Jimin in waves, chasing away the chill that had settled into his bones.
Pack members mill about, their faces aglow in the firelight. Some dance to the lively music, while others gather in small groups, sharing drinks and stories. His eyes scan the crowd, searching for a familiar face. He spots Seokjin first, the beta's loud laughter carrying over the noise as he gestures animatedly to a group of amused onlookers. Nearby, Namjoon stands with a small smile, shaking his head fondly at his mate's antics.
But it's not until Jimin's gaze drifts toward the edge of the clearing that he finds who he's really looking for.
Jeongguk stands a little apart from the crowd, his silhouette framed by the flickering light of the bonfire. His hair is loose tonight, falling in soft waves that frame his sharp features. There’s an ease to his stance—one hand resting in his pocket, the other curled loosely around a wooden cup—that makes him appear relaxed, yet Jimin can sense a subtle tension coiled beneath his composed demeanor.
Jeongguk isn’t looking at the fire or the milling crowd; his gaze is fixed on something beyond the edge of the clearing, as though lost in thought. For a moment, Jimin hesitates, clutching the edges of his scarf as he takes in the sight of him. The bond tugs at him insistently, as if pulling him toward Jeongguk’s side, and he knows there’s no point in fighting it.
With a steady breath, Jimin weaves through the crowd, his steps carrying him closer to Jeongguk. The bond pulls at him like a fishing wire, but it isn’t a force he resists—it’s comforting, like it knows exactly where he belongs. As he gets nearer, Jeongguk must sense him because the alpha turns his head. His dark eyes catch in the light of the fire and the soft, almost shy smile that spreads across his lips makes Jimin’s heart flutter.
“Jimin,” Jeongguk says, his voice low but carrying easily over the crackle of the bonfire and the murmur of the crowd.
“Hi,” Jimin replies softly, feeling the heat of the flames mixing with the warmth blooming in his chest. He stops just a step away, his fingers fiddling with the edges of his scarf as he looks up at Jeongguk.
“You’re not dancing?”
Jimin huffs a quiet laugh, glancing back toward the crowd. “I’m not much of a dancer,” he admits, the words tinged with fondness as he watches Seokjin attempt to spin Namjoon in an exaggerated waltz.
Jeongguk’s gaze follows Jimin’s for a moment, his lips twitching at the sight, before returning to him. “What about drinking, then? Or were you just planning to stand around and take it all in?”
“Maybe a little of both,” Jimin says, his eyes flicking to the wooden cup in Jeongguk’s hand. “What about you? You don’t seem like the dancing type either.”
Jeongguk’s smile turns wry as he lifts the cup slightly. “I’ve been nursing this all night to avoid being dragged into it. Seems to be working so far.”
Jimin laughs, the sound light and unguarded, and Jeongguk’s expression drifts into fondness. The bond between them hums gently and Jimin feels himself relax under the weight of Jeongguk’s presence.
“Did you come from Taehyung’s?” Jeongguk asks.
Jimin nods. “We talked. I think… I think we’re in a better place now.”
Jeongguk’s shoulders ease slightly, the tension Jimin noticed earlier lifting from his frame. “That’s good,” he says simply, but the sincerity in his voice is unmistakable.
Jimin hesitates, the words catching in his throat before he manages, “Thank you.”
Jeongguk blinks, his brows knitting slightly. “For what?”
“For being patient with me,” Jimin says, his voice steady but his gaze flickering away.
Jeongguk is silent for a beat, and when Jimin looks back, the alpha’s eyes are more tender than he’s ever seen them. “You don’t need to thank me for that, Jimin,” he says quietly. “You’ve been through a lot. Anyone would need time.”
Jimin’s chest tightens at the gentle understanding in Jeongguk’s tone, and he finds himself smiling despite the knot of emotion rising in his throat.
“Still,” Jimin says, his voice barely above a whisper, “thank you.”
Jeongguk’s smile widens slightly, and the faint tug in the bond grows warmer, like a quiet reassurance between them. He tilts his head toward the fire, his expression lightening. “Come on. Let’s get you something to drink. If you’re not dancing, at least you can enjoy the rest of the festival properly.”
Jimin nods, falling into step beside Jeongguk as they make their way toward one of the drink stalls. The crowd parts easily for them, a few curious glances thrown their way, but Jimin finds he doesn't mind as much as he thought he would. Jeongguk's presence beside him is steady and reassuring, and the warmth of the bond between them seems to create a bubble that keeps the rest of the world at bay.
As they reach the stall, Jeongguk orders two cups of mulled wine, the rich, spicy scent wafting up and making Jimin's mouth water. He accepts the steaming cup from Jeongguk with a soft "thank you," their fingers brushing briefly in the exchange. The touch sends a spark of warmth through Jimin that has nothing to do with the heat of the drink.
They find a quiet spot near the edge of the clearing, close enough to feel the warmth of the bonfire but far enough away to talk without shouting over the noise of the crowd. Jimin takes a sip of his wine, the sweet, spiced flavor spreading across his tongue and warming him from the inside out.
"It's good," Jimin says, glancing up at Jeongguk over the rim of his cup.
“It is.” Jeongguk nods, taking a sip from his own cup. "Though I have to admit, I'm not much of a drinker usually."
"No?" Jimin asks, his curiosity piqued. "Is that an alpha thing or a you thing?"
Jeongguk's lips quirk into a small smile. "A me thing, I suppose. I've never been fond of losing control."
Jimin hums thoughtfully, his gaze drifting back to the bonfire. The flames dance hypnotically, casting flickering shadows across the ground. "I can understand that. Control can feel... safe."
"It can," he agrees. "But sometimes it's good to let go a little, too."
Jimin turns back to him, a hint of challenge in his eyes. "Is that what you're doing tonight? Letting go?"
"Maybe," Jeongguk says, his voice low and tinged with warmth. "Or maybe I'm just here for you."
Jimin's breath catches, Jeongguk’s words settling between them like a comforting blanket and an electric jolt all at once. The bond hums brightly in his chest, tethering him to the alpha like a thread of moonlight. He looks away quickly, focusing on the flames of the bonfire as they crackle and leap into the star-dotted sky.
"You have a way with words," Jimin murmurs, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"And you have a way of making me want to say them," Jeongguk responds with quiet honesty, his voice dipping low enough that Jimin feels it thrumming through him rather than hears it.
The air between them shifts, charged and heady, yet delicate enough to be broken by a single breath. Jimin swallows hard, his fingers tightening around the wooden cup in his hands as he musters his courage. He wants to say something—anything—but the vulnerability pooling in Jeongguk's eyes stops him short. It’s terrifying, seeing someone so strong look at him with such raw emotion that it mirrors the nervous, insistent beating of his own heart.
"Do you..." Jimin hesitates, his voice barely above a whisper. "Do you want to walk with me? Away from the crowd for a bit?"
Jeongguk's eyes widen slightly, surprise flashing across his features before settling into something softer, more tender. He nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I'd like that."
They set their cups down on a nearby table and slip away from the bonfire, their footsteps quiet against the frozen earth. The sounds of laughter and music fade as they make their way toward the edge of the woods, replaced by the gentle rustling of wind through bare branches and the distant hoot of an owl.
The moonlight filters through the trees, casting long shadows across the snow-covered ground. Jimin's breath puffs out in small clouds before him and he pulls his furs tighter around his shoulders. Beside him, Jeongguk walks in companionable silence, a slight redness to his cheeks that could either be attributed to the headiness of the mulled wine or the way their fingers brush against each other with every other swing of their arms.
They come to a small clearing, where a fallen log rests beneath the sprawling branches of an ancient oak. Without a word, they both move to sit, side by side, the wood creaking softly under their weight. The bright moonlight filters through the bare branches above, casting shadows across their faces.
For a moment, they sit in silence, the sounds of the festival a distant murmur in the background. Jimin's gaze drifts upward, taking in the vast expanse of stars twinkling in the inky black sky. He feels small beneath their light, yet strangely at peace.
"It's beautiful out here," the omega says, his breath clouding in the cold air.
“It is,” Jeongguk hums in agreement, his eyes lingering on Jimin’s profile for a moment then following his gaze upward. "Sometimes I forget to look up and appreciate it."
"Do you get moments like this often?” Jimin glances at him, curiosity piqued. “To just... be?"
"Not as often as I'd like. There's always something that needs my attention, some decision to be made or problem to solve." Jeongguk's lips quirk into a wry smile.
"...But being here—" His voice softens, and his gaze shifts from the stars to Jimin, "—with you... it feels different. Like I can finally… breathe."
Jimin's heart stutters at the vulnerability in Jeongguk's tone. The alpha always seemed so steady, so unshakable, but now, under the watchful eye of the moon and surrounded by nothing but their shared breath in the cold air, Jeongguk feels impossibly human. It makes Jimin’s chest ache in a way he doesn’t fully understand.
He reaches out, his fingers brushing against Jeongguk's cheek, the skin warm under his touch. He watches as Jeongguk's eyes flutter closed at the contact, a soft sigh escaping his lips.
Jimin's heart thrums in response, a warmth spreading through his chest that has nothing to do with the furs wrapped tightly around him. He leans closer, drawn in by the quiet strength of the alpha beside him, by the bond that pulls them together like the moon to the tide.
He hesitates for a moment, his gaze tracing the sharp lines of Jeongguk's jaw, the curve of his nose, the mole beneath his lips. Then, with a gentle touch, he cups Jeongguk's face in his hands, his thumbs brushing softly against the alpha's cheekbones.
Jeongguk's eyes open, and the moonlight catches in their depths, making them shimmer with an emotion Jimin can't quite decipher. There's a vulnerability there, a quiet plea that makes Jimin's heart ache.
Jimin leans in, his lips brushing against Jeongguk's, a feather-light touch that sends shivers down both their spines. Jeongguk's breath hitches, and he tilts his head, pressing their lips together fully.
It begins slow and soft, an exploration of lips and soft breaths, the world around them seemingly fading away as they become closer than they’ve ever been. The gentle rustle of wind through bare branches, the distant echo of laughter from the festival, even the cold bite of winter air against their skin—all of it recedes into the background, leaving only the sensation of their bodies pressed together and the insistent tug of the bond between them.
Jeongguk's hands find Jimin's waist, pulling him closer until there's no space left between them on the log. Jimin's hands move to tangle in Jeongguk's hair, tugging gently as the kiss grows more insistent, drawing a low groan from the alpha that reverberates through his chest. The sound ignites something primal within Jimin, and he finds himself pressing closer, desperate to eliminate any remaining space between them. Jeongguk responds in kind, his hands sliding from Jimin's waist to his lower back, pulling him as flush against his body as he can without scooping the omega into his arms.
The kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more demanding. Jeongguk's tongue traces the seam of Jimin's lips, seeking entry, and Jimin parts them willingly, a soft moan escaping him as their tongues meet. The taste of mulled wine still lingers on Jeongguk's lips, sweet and spicy, mixing with his natural flavor in a way that makes Jimin's head spin.
In the next moment, Jimin finds himself straddling Jeongguk's lap, his fingers tangled in the alpha's hair as he presses impossibly closer. The alpha’s hands roam Jimin's back, tracing the curve of his spine before settling on his hips, gripping tightly.
Their scents mingle in the cold night air - Jeongguk's pine and petrichor intensifying with arousal, while Jimin's sweet honeysuckle takes on a headier, more intoxicating note as slick begins to dampen his trousers. The bond between them pulses with vigor, urging them closer, deeper, a symphony of need and desire that echoes in the very marrow of their bones, begging to be sated.
Jimin breaks the kiss with a gasp, sucking in lungfuls of air as his head falls back. Jeongguk's lips race to make contact, trailing down his neck in a littering of bites and kisses anywhere his mouth can reach. The alpha's teeth graze Jimin's scent gland, drawing a low whine from the omega. Jeongguk growls in response, the sound rumbling through his chest and sending shivers down Jimin's spine.
"Jeongguk," Jimin breathes, his voice thick with need. He rolls his hips instinctively, drawing a sharp intake of breath from the alpha when he makes contact with his rapidly hardening cock.
But as Jeongguk's teeth graze Jimin's scent gland once more, a jolt of clarity cuts through the haze of desire. Jimin's eyes fly open, his body tensing as he realizes just how far things have escalated. He pulls back slightly, his hands coming to rest on Jeongguk's shoulders, creating a small space between them.
Jeongguk seems to sense the shift immediately. His grip on Jimin's hips loosens, and he leans back, his dark eyes searching Jimin's face with concern. The alpha's chest heaves with each breath, his lips slightly swollen from their heated kisses.
"I'm sorry," Jeongguk says, his voice rough and low. "I got carried away. We don't have to—"
"No," Jimin interrupts, shaking his head. "It's not that.”
“Then what is it?” Jeongguk rakes a hand through Jimin’s hair.
“W-we said that we would take it slow.” Jimin peers down at the limited space between their two bodies. “I don’t think this really counts.”
Jeongguk's expression softens, understanding dawning in his eyes. He gently cups Jimin's face, his thumb brushing over the omega's flushed cheek. "You're right. We did say that. And I meant it when I said we'd go at your pace."
Jimin leans into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When he opens them again, he finds Jeongguk watching him with such tenderness that it makes his heart ache.
"I want this," Jimin admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I want you .”
“Jimin—”
"But is it too fast?" Jimin continues softly, his fingers tracing the line of Jeongguk's jaw.
“What does too fast mean to you?”
“I-I…” Jimin hesitates, a blush warming his cheeks as he takes a moment to clear his lust-addled mind and gather his thoughts. It's not that he's afraid of intimacy with Jeongguk—not by any means if the bulge in his trousers has anything to say about it. But the sudden leap from nothing to everything is what gives him pause. Their relationship has been a whirlwind from the start, and by the way things are moving, it seems that’s how their relationship will continue to progress. Going all in right now isn't terrifying, but he wants to slow down, to truly appreciate the journey, even if his body screams for Jeongguk to take him this very moment.
“I don’t want to have you—all of you—without your bite.” At the mention of securing their bond, Jimin feels Jeongguk shiver and his cock kick from the confines of his trousers. “And, gods, as much as I would like that… we’re just not ready yet. I’m not ready yet”
The alpha nods, understanding shining in his eyes. "We can wait on that," he agrees. "For right now... we can do whatever feels right."
"Everything about this feels right..." he whispers, his gaze locking with the alpha’s.
"Then tell me what you want," Jeongguk murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers down Jimin's spine. He leans closer, his breath ghosting over Jimin's lips. "Tell me what feels good."
"Kiss me again," he breathes, his voice barely audible.
Jimin melts into the alpha’s lips, his hands finding their way to Jeongguk's hair, tugging gently as he surrenders to his touch. He can feel the heat radiating from Jeongguk's body, the strength in his arms as he pulls Jimin closer, deepening the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of Jimin's thick lips, eliciting a soft moan from the omega.
They break apart for a moment, breathless and flushed. The bond between them thrums with an electric energy, urging them closer, demanding more more more. Jeongguk leans in again, his lips finding Jimin's neck, trailing kisses along his sensitive skin. Jimin tilts his head back, granting the alpha more access, his fingers digging into Jeongguk's shoulders when the alpha finds his scent gland.
A low growl rumbles in Jeongguk's chest as he nips at Jimin's neck, eliciting a soft gasp from the omega. Jimin's scent fills the air, sweet honeysuckle and verbena intoxicatingly mixed with the potent thrum of arousal.
"Mine," Jeongguk murmurs against Jimin's skin, his voice possessive and filled with need. Jimin shivers at the word, his omega preening under the alpha's claim.
"Yours," he whispers back, his voice barely audible.
He shifts in the alpha’s lap, the movement causing friction between their hard cocks, drawing a sharp inhale from the both of them. The alpha's pupils are blown wide and his scent is nearly overpowering, causing the omega to gush unrelenting waves of slick from his aching hole.
"Jeongguk," Jimin whimpers, his mind hazy. "I..."
"What is it, baby?”
The pet name clouds Jimin’s already muddled mind even further. “I need…”
“What do you need, Omega?” Jeongguk drags his teeth across the gland, causing Jimin to keen and arch in the alpha’s lap, drowning in the euphoric embrace of petrichor.
“Please, Jeongguk,” he begs, grinding his rock-hard cock down in the alpha’s lap.
The alpha hisses at the sensation. He drags a hand down the omega’s side, fingers digging roughly into his hips when Jimin ruts down once again.
“P-Please—" Jimin's plea trails off into a whine as Jeongguk's hand travels lower, brushing the bulge of the omega’s cock through the fabric of his pants. The alpha's fingers squeeze, and Jimin's hips jerk involuntarily. His head falls back, mouth open and gasping for air.
"Tell me what you want, Jimin," Jeongguk growls, his dark eyes turning red with desire. "Want me to touch you? Make you feel good?"
Jimin can only nod, his throat too tight to form words. The need coursing through him is like nothing he's ever felt before. It consumes him, reducing him to a mass of sensation and want. His hips roll mindlessly against Jeongguk's palm, seeking more pressure, more friction.
Slowly, agonizingly so, Jeongguk unties Jimin's pants, teasing him with every flick of his fingers. He draws down the omega's trousers, freeing Jimin's hard cock and exposing his ass in one fluid motion. His length is flushed and leaking, the head glistening with precum. The alpha's nostrils flare as he breathes in the sweet honeyed scent of Jimin's arousal, and the omega shudders, clenching his fists in Jeongguk’s furs.
"So beautiful," Jeongguk rumbles, voice raw. He wraps a hand around Jimin's cock, pumping him slowly, teasingly, thumb swirling over the sensitive head and pressing into the slit. "You're so hard for me, aren't you?"
Jimin whines in response, his hips bucking up into Jeongguk's grip. The alpha pumps him a few more times then stops, causing a strangled noise to escape Jimin's lips. "N-no, don't stop!"
Jeongguk smirks, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "Tell me what else you want, baby."
“Want… inside,” Jimin barely manages to voice.
“Want what inside?” Jeongguk rasps, lips catching on his earlobe. He moves down to kiss along his jawline, nipping at the skin there. “Gotta tell me what you need.”
"Your... your fingers," Jimin gasps out between ragged breaths. "I want—I need your fingers inside me."
The alpha's smirk darkens as he obliges the omega's request. He slides a finger along Jimin's crease, gathering an obscene amount of slick that’s accumulated there. He teases his rim mercilessly before dipping a digit inside. Jimin's walls clench around the alpha’s finger as he mewls at the intrusion, already so desperate for another.
Jeongguk doesn’t waste any time fitting a second finger inside, reveling in the way the omega's body stretches to accommodate him. Jimin moans and grasps at Jeongguk's furs, his head thrown back in pleasure.
"Gods, you're so tight," the alpha groans, scissoring his fingers and searching for that spot inside that will make Jimin scream. "Feel good, baby? You're taking me so well."
"S-so good," he whimpers in response, his cock twitching with every movement of Jeongguk's fingers. The stretch burns so nicely when he squeezes in a third, another drop of precum oozing from the tip of his neglected cock.
"Oh... oh, fuck,” he whimpers when Jeongguk curls his fingers inward and hits the bundle of nerves that has him seeing stars.
Jeongguk groans, picking up the pace as he pistons his fingers in and out. “Doing so good, baby.” He grinds up against Jimin, his own hardness straining in the confines of his trousers.
Jimin’s orgasm builds in the pit of his stomach like wildfire spreading through him, igniting every nerve and consuming every thought. It coils tighter and tighter, the intensity a blinding crescendo that teeters on the edge of overwhelming. His moans and whimpers pour freely, mingling with the sounds of their movements, bouncing against the trees around them and into the night sky above.
“Jeongguk!” Jimin’s hips stutter as he clenches around his alpha’s fingers. “I-I’m gonna—”
Jeongguk slams his fingers in again and again, pressing against the bundle of nerves inside and taking the omega’s breath away. Jimin’s fingers tangle in the alpha’s hair, his mouth agape and gasping for air.
The building tension of his orgasm is verging on painful; he can hear himself mumbling unintelligible words and sounds, unable to stop them before they roll out of his mouth. Jeongguk wraps a hand around Jimin’s drooling cock, giving it a squeeze before he runs his thumb over the weeping slit.
Jimin goes taut, his entire body tensing as white-hot pleasure shoots through him. His back arches, high-pitched mewls repeatedly escaping his lips at the overwhelming sensations coursing through him.
“There you go, Omega. Taking what I give you so well.”
Jeongguk keeps working him through his release, drawing each shuddering spasm out of him with pride. Jimin's cum spills over Jeongguk's fingers, the alpha's other hand still buried inside him, wringing every last drop from his oversensitive body.
As the last tremors subside, Jimin collapses against the alpha’s chest, panting and boneless. His eyes drift closed as he tries to regain his rattled senses. He’s vaguely aware of Jeongguk’s hand snaking between them and moving but doesn't have the energy to care until cool air hits his now-sensitive hole.
Eyes snapping open, Jimin leans back to see that Jeongguk has removed his cock from the imprisonment of his trousers and is now stroking himself, the red head of his cock leaking an obscene amount of precum as the slick sound of his hand sliding up and down rings in Jimin’s ears.
He can’t seem to tear his eyes away. He'd known, of course, that alphas are well-endowed, and he'd even heard the whispers about Jeongguk specifically. But seeing it in person, mere inches away, is something else entirely. Jimin's mouth waters involuntarily, his cheeks flushing as he realizes he wants to taste it, to feel it inside him.
He watches, entranced, as Jeongguk strokes himself, pace quickening. His hand travels from the tip of his cock down to its base and back up again, squeezing and twisting the engorged head with each pass. Jimin’s stomach tightens, heat rising through his body as he realizes that the wet schlick of Jeongguk’s hand on his cock is caused by Jimin’s own wetness, a mixture of cum and slick. He can feel his spent cock twitching with renewed interest.
Without thinking, Jimin leans forward, gently nudging Jeongguk's hand aside. The surprise on the alpha's face is short-lived as Jimin runs his hand from the tip, down to the base where he knows Jeongguk’s fat knot will soon be.
The alpha beneath him shudders, the dark brown of his eyes almost completely consumed by red as he watches the omega. Jimin lets out a strangled whimper when his fingers aren’t able to wrap completely around the shaft, imagining just how sweet the burn of sinking on his alpha’s thick cock will feel. He brings his free hand around to his hole, collecting some of the slick gathered there and then deposits it on Jeongguk’s tip, watching as it cascades down the length and over his own fingers.
Jeongguk is nearly heaving at this point. The rise and fall of his chest is so severe that Jimin thinks he might faint any second now. The alpha’s fingers are digging into the fat of Jimin’s ass, squeezing so hard that the red marks indented there will most definitely fade to purple.
Closing his other fist around the alpha’s cock, Jimin drags both hands up and down, watching with total abandon as precum dribbles from the tip like a waterfall. The alpha’s moans have increased in rate and volume, his scent nearly suffocating, petrichor and pine seeping into Jimin’s bones and filling him to the core with a burning need .
Wanting to please his alpha even more, Jimin quickly rids himself of his furs and drops them on the snow at Jeongguk’s feet. He doesn’t feel the cold winter air wrap around him, not when he’s drenched in the warmth of his alpha and the headiness of the bond. He makes quick work of standing and dropping to his knees on his furs, not wasting a moment as he takes hold of Jeongguk’s cock, giving it a long, sensual lick up the length, relishing in the tangy, musky taste of arousal and the sweetness of his own slick. Jeongguk lets out a low groan as Jimin engulfs the head of his cock into his mouth.
Encouraged by the reaction he elicits from Jeongguk, Jimin bobs his head, taking more of the hot length into his mouth with each pass. His tongue swirls around the tip, massaging it mercilessly as he sucks the alpha's cock deeper. Jimin can feel it twitch in his mouth, spurring him on to take as much of the shaft as he can possibly manage, his hand working where his mouth can’t reach.
"Fuck, Jimin..." Jeongguk manages to gasp out between ragged breaths. "So good, baby. So good. "
Hearing the edge in Jeongguk's voice only serves to make Jimin work harder, determined to bring his mate to the brink of ecstasy. His other hand trails down between his legs, two fingers slipping into his now-sensitive hole as he moves in time with his bobbing mouth. The dual sensation of being filled and tasting his mate's cock sends Jimin's arousal sky rocketing once more. His cock, which had softened slightly, begins to harden again, aching with need.
"Jimin... I'm... so close," Jeongguk whines above him, his hips jerking erratically as Jimin sucks him off with vigor, knot beginning to expand at the base of his cock.
The knowledge that he’s reduced this strong alpha to a whimpering mess sends his omegan instincts into overdrive. Nothing matters more than pleasing his mate, taking him apart with his mouth and tongue and fingers, milking him for all he’s worth.
The thought alone causes Jimin to moan around Jeongguk's cock, the vibrations nearly sending the alpha over the edge as his cock twitches violently. Bringing his fingers to wrap around the alpha’s rapidly forming knot, Jimin glances upwards. The sight is nothing short of breathtaking.
Jeongguk's eyes are screwed shut, his jaw clenched tight as he tries to hold on for just a little longer. His fists are balled tightly at his sides, as if that’s the only thing keeping him from thrusting himself deeper into his mouth. Sweat beads on his temples, sparkling in the light of the moon, and Jimin finds himself in awe by the sheer sight of his mate on the edge.
With a final squeeze of his knot, Jimin pulls off his mate’s cock, a trail of saliva connecting them, and his eyes never leaving Jeongguk’s face. The alpha opens his eyes when he feels the cold winter air on his length, finding the hot burn of desire in Jimin’s half-lidded gaze.
“Mark me, Alpha,” Jimin voices, throat wrecked and raspy. He tilts his head back and off to the side, exposing his bare, unmarked neck. “Please.”
A hoarse moan rips itself from Jeongguk's lips as he comes, his seed shooting over Jimin's awaiting scent gland and the bottom half of his face. The omega moans in tandem, licking the cum on his lips as his own cock twitches, coming untouched onto his furs below him, brought on by nothing other than the high of his mate’s pleasure.
The air is thick with the scent of their release, pine and honeysuckle mingling together in a heady concoction. Jimin's chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, his body trembling with the aftershocks of his second orgasm. He can feel Jeongguk's cum cooling on his neck and face, marking him in the most primal way possible without a bite.
Jeongguk's hands come to cup Jimin's cheek, his thumbs gently wiping away the lingering traces of his release from the omega's thick lips. His eyes, still tinged with red, are filled with a mixture of such awe and tenderness that makes Jimin's heart stutter.
"You're incredible," Jeongguk murmurs, his voice rough and low. He leans down, pressing his forehead against Jimin's, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. "So perfect for me, baby."
Jimin preens under the praise, his wolf howling with satisfaction at having pleased his alpha. He nuzzles into Jeongguk's touch, a soft purr rumbling in his chest.
Jeongguk pulls Jimin up onto his lap, wrapping his arms tightly around the omega. He buries his face in Jimin's neck, inhaling deeply and letting out a contented rumble when he smells their combined scents. Jimin melts into the embrace, his body still buzzing with pleasure and the heady rush of their shared release.
"Are you cold?" Jeongguk murmurs against Jimin's skin, his hands rubbing soothing circles on the omega's back.
Jimin shakes his head, tucking himself closer to Jeongguk's warmth. "No," he whispers. "I'm perfect right here."
They stay like that for a long moment, basking in the afterglow and the quiet intimacy of their shared breaths. The sounds of the festival are a distant murmur, barely audible over the gentle rustle of wind through bare branches and the steady thump of their hearts.
Eventually, Jeongguk pulls back slightly, his eyes roaming over Jimin's face with a mix of tenderness and concern. "We should get you cleaned up and warm," he says softly, brushing a strand of hair from Jimin's forehead. "As much as I'd love to stay here with you all night, I don't want you catching a cold."
Jimin nods reluctantly, already missing the warmth of Jeongguk's embrace as the alpha helps him to his feet. He shivers slightly as the cool night air hits his skin, suddenly very aware of his state of undress. Jeongguk notices immediately, shrugging off his own furs and draping it around Jimin's shoulders as the omega ties up the drawstring of his trousers.
"Thank you," Jimin murmurs, pulling the furs close around him. It's warm and smells like Jeongguk - a comforting mix of pine and earth that makes Jimin's heart flutter. He blushes as Jeongguk uses Jimin’s soiled furs to clean off the remainder of the release still stuck to his skin; his wolf whines when it’s all gone.
Jeongguk smiles softly, his hand coming to rest on the small of Jimin's back as they begin to make their way back toward the village, the omega’s soiled furs tucked tightly underneath his arm. The walk is quiet, but the bond between them hums in contentment.
As they walk back toward the village, the sounds of the festival grow louder once more. The bonfire still blazes in the center of the square, casting flickering shadows across the snow-covered ground. Jimin pulls Jeongguk's cloak tighter around himself, suddenly very aware of how they must look - disheveled and flushed, their scents mingled together.
Jeongguk seems to sense his unease. His hand rests lightly on Jimin’s lower back, a steadying presence that both reassures and grounds him. “We can go to my cabin,” Jeongguk says, his voice low and calm, offering a simple solution to a much more complicated feeling. “It’s closer, and we won’t have to cross the whole village to get to yours.”
Jimin nods, grateful for the suggestion, and lets Jeongguk guide him toward a quieter path leading away from the square. The sounds of laughter and music fade into the distance, replaced by the crunch of snow beneath their boots and the occasional rustle of the wind through the bare branches.
As they near Jeongguk’s cabin, the alpha slows his pace, and Jimin glances at him curiously. Jeongguk stops just before they reach the snow-covered stone path leading to the cabin’s entrance, turning to face Jimin fully. The flickering glow of the moonlight catches in his eyes, softening the seriousness of his expression.
“Jimin,” Jeongguk begins, his voice quiet, as if afraid to break the fragile stillness of the night. His hand lingers at Jimin’s waist, grounding him, while his other brushes a stray lock of hair from Jimin’s forehead. “I know this is fast. Everything about this—about us—feels like it’s moving at a pace we didn’t plan for.”
Jimin looks up at him, his chest tightening as Jeongguk’s dark eyes search his own. The bond between them thrums faintly, pulsing like a heartbeat, steady and sure. “But?” Jimin prompts, his voice barely above a whisper.
Jeongguk’s lips curve into the faintest smile, his thumb brushing absently against Jimin’s side. “But I can feel it in my bones, Jimin. I know what I want.” His gaze intensifies, not in its weight but in its clarity, like every word he speaks comes directly from the depths of his heart. “I want you. For the rest of my life. Not just because of the bond—because of you. All of you.”
Jimin’s breath catches, his eyes widening slightly as the words sink in. There’s no hesitation in Jeongguk’s tone, no doubt, just a certainty that shakes something loose inside Jimin.
“I don’t want to scare you,” Jeongguk continues, his grip on Jimin’s waist tightening just slightly, as though to anchor them both. “But I needed to say it. I needed you to know how sure I am about this—about you. Even if we take our time, even if we figure it out as we go... I’m all in, Jimin.”
Jimin swallows hard, his heart pounding in his chest. He can feel the pull of the bond wrapping around them, stronger than ever, but it’s not what grounds him now. It’s Jeongguk’s words, his devoted presence, the unshakable trust that radiates from him like a promise.
“I... I want that too. I don’t know how we’ll get there, or what it’ll look like, but I want it. I want us.”
Jeongguk’s expression softens, and he exhales a breath Jimin hadn’t realized he’d been holding. His lips curl into a genuine smile, the kind that makes Jimin’s chest feel impossibly warm. “Then we’ll figure it out,” Jeongguk says simply, his tone filled with conviction.
Jimin nods, a small smile breaking across his face as he lets himself lean into Jeongguk, his cheek resting against the sturdiness of the alpha’s chest. The bond hums around them, no longer insistent but steady, like it knows this is exactly where they’re meant to be.
"Come on," Jeongguk murmurs, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through Jimin's chest. He pulls back just enough to meet Jimin's eyes, a playful glint in their depths. "Let's get back to the cabin before you turn into an icicle."
Jimin chuckles softly, pulling the alpha’s furs tighter around him as they resume their walk. When they reach Jeongguk’s cabin, the alpha opens the door and steps aside, letting Jimin enter first. The interior is just as he remembers, the faint scent of pine mingling with the warmth from a small fire left crackling in the hearth. Jimin sighs contentedly, letting the comfort of the space settle over him as he shrugs off the furs and drapes them over a nearby chair.
As he moves further inside, something on the table catches his eye—a pair of cream-colored mittens with delicate snowflake embroidery. Jimin pauses mid-step, recognition washing over him.
His heart stirs, a quiet, warm feeling spreading through his chest as he moves closer. He reaches out, his fingers brushing the soft fabric before drawing back, his lips pressing into a small, thoughtful smile. He doesn’t say anything, but his gaze flicks toward Jeongguk, a quiet awe bubbling under the surface.
Jimin watches him, captivated by the effortless grace with which he moves, as if everything about him was carved by careful design. The golden light casts flickering shadows across his face, highlighting the strong lines of his jaw and the soft curve of his nose. His hair falls loosely over his forehead, catching the warm glow of the flames, and the focus in his expression makes Jimin’s heart ache in the best way. The cabin feels warmer, not just from the fire but from the simplicity of Jeongguk’s presence and the small, thoughtful gesture now sitting on the table.
"You're beautiful, you know?" Jimin says softly, the words slipping out before he can think better of them.
Jeongguk pauses, glancing over his shoulder with a small, lopsided smile. "Am I?"
"You are," Jimin says, his cheeks warming, but he doesn't look away. He adds with a playful grin, "The firelight doesn't hurt either, though."
Jeongguk chuckles, the low, rich sound washing over Jimin and leaving a pleasant warmth blooming in his chest. He turns fully toward Jimin, his smile full of something that looks a lot like love. "I could say the same about you."
Jimin's breath catches, and he fidgets slightly, unsure how to respond to the quiet intensity of Jeongguk's words. But before he can say anything, Jeongguk closes the distance between them.
"Do you know how hard it is to look at you and not feel like I'm the luckiest alpha alive?"
Jimin blinks, his blush flushing deeper as Jeongguk lifts a hand to brush his knuckles along Jimin's cheek. The touch is feather-light, but it sends a shiver down Jimin's spine nonetheless.
"I'm serious," Jeongguk continues, his thumb tracing the edge of Jimin's jaw. "You're breathtaking. You have a way of... making everything feel brighter. Even when you don't realize it."
Jimin swallows hard, his chest swelling with a mix of emotions he doesn't know how to articulate.
Jeongguk's lips quirk into a playful smile. "The firelight doesn't hurt either, though, right?"
Jimin lets out a shaky laugh, his hands coming up to rest against Jeongguk's chest. "You're impossible," he says, his voice a mix of exasperation and affection.
"And you're perfect," Jeongguk replies without missing a beat, his voice so earnest that it leaves no room for doubt.
Jimin closes his eyes, leaning into Jeongguk's chest, the warmth of his body a comforting weight against his own. The steady beat of Jeongguk's heart fills his ears, a soothing rhythm that resonates with the bond humming between them, making him feel whole and impossibly safe. When he opens his eyes again, Jeongguk is still there, steady and unwavering.
“Stay with me tonight,” Jeongguk whispers, his hand sliding down to settle on Jimin’s waist.
Jimin nods, the last remnants of hesitation melt away as he whispers back, “I’m not going anywhere.”
Jeongguk smiles and pulls him closer. In the warmth of the firelight, wrapped in the calming scent of petrichor and pine, Jimin knows without a shadow of a doubt that he's exactly where he's meant to be.