Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“Jungkook, do you take Jimin to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to love and cherish him, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, for richer for poorer, for better for worse, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her/him, for so long as you both shall live?”

Jimin swallows roughly, the knot in his stomach tightening as the omega avoids his gaze, his brows knitted in an angry frown – the only expression he’s seen on his future husband’s face since that first fateful night. 

“I do,” Jungkook grunts, his tattooed hand stiff and cold in Jimin’s palm as he slips the ring onto the omega’s finger. 

“Jimin, do you take Jungkook to be your lawfully wedded husband?” 

Jimin’s eyes flick to the audience on their right, eyeing them with morbid curiosity, like one would circus animals – that’s exactly how he feels. 

“ Jimin, ” Jungkook hisses, pressing his thumb into the alpha’s hand to get his attention. Jimin flinches, his head turning to his future husband. If looks could kill, Jungkook would be a widow before the ceremony ends.

“Y-yeah,” Jimin stutters. “I do,” he adds with a sheepish smile that doesn’t seem to appease the omega. Jungkook makes a face then yanks his hand closer, slipping the ring onto his finger, the golden band glistening in the sunlight seeping through the stained glass windows. 

How on earth did he end up here? This wasn’t part of his job description. 

“By the authority vested in me, I now pronounce you partners in heart and mind. You may now kiss the groom.” 

A kiss. 

Oh, yeah. That’s how it all started. 

A kiss that prompted so much more than Jimin was prepared for. 

👑

Jimin always had a habit of thinking with his knot, or more precisely, not thinking at all when he set his sight on a pretty omega to stuff full with it – a pretty common occurrence among young, healthy (horny) alphas if you’d ask him. Others, though, might say he isn’t a dumb college kid anymore and he should’ve grown out of it by now. 

Jimin never understood the logic behind that. See, the thing is, omegas are still pretty and smell delicious. Him having a fully developed frontal lobe doesn’t change that. Nor do his friends who roll their eyes whenever he tells them about his latest conquest. 

‘You should find a nice omega you like for their personality, not just their ass’ they said. 

Yeah, sure. As if Jimin could snap his fingers and make that perfect omega materialize. It’s not like he’s against love. In fact, Jimin is quite the hopeless romantic at heart – perhaps that’s why he can’t settle for anything less than the person of his dreams. Jimin isn’t sure about the details, but he’s certain he’ll know when they meet – he’ll hear bells or a choir or however that saying goes. 

Besides, his friends weren’t any better either – actually, Jimin believes without a doubt, they would be exactly like him if they hadn’t met the love of their lives early on. For instance, his best friend and former roommate Taehyung used to be the most notorious player of the campus, breaking hearts left and right, until he met his match: an omega who absolutely despised him. Taehyung was instantly in love. Yoongi, on the other hand… let’s say it took some convincing that Taehyung is serious about him. Now five years later, they are happily mated and expecting their first pup. 

Hoseok was even worse. He absolutely did not care about any alphas trying to woo him for longer than a night. Then, he realized he’s actually more into omegas, and moved in with his boyfriend, two months after getting together. 

No matter how much they deny, Jimin is a firm believer that they did not change on their own volition – they simply found their person and that alone transforms something in you. 

Jimin is more than willing to comply once he meets the love of his life, too. What’s the harm in having some fun in the meantime? 

The problem is, he might’ve had a little bit too much fun at his last job. 

It wasn’t Jimin’s fault. He had no clue that Daejung was the CEO’s daughter. How was he supposed to know? They weren’t close enough to share details about their families – or their surnames, apparently. 

It was an innocent storage room fuck. 

Then two. 

Then… Jimin lost count. He’s pretty sure they were in double digits by the time Daejung’s father found out that his sweet daughter was sleeping with one of his lowly employees. 

In Jimin’s defense, he did not know he was sleeping with a taken woman. If he had known… he probably would’ve done the same, to be honest. Of course, he didn’t disclose that information when he attempted to make a case for himself to save his cushy job. Jimin was well aware that the only viable option was to pretend to be regretful. 

Unfortunately, Jimin isn’t the best actor. 

He got his termination letter hand delivered by his boss that very afternoon. Honestly, it could’ve been an email, saving them both the humiliation of becoming the gossip of the entire department for a week – or perhaps even the month, given how boring everything is there. 

Now, all this ridiculous – and frankly, uncalled for – office drama wouldn’t have warranted him leaving Busan entirely if it wasn’t for Daejung’s fiancé swearing to take revenge for Jimin ‘defiling his fiancé.’

Ugh. 

What a pretentious prick. 

As if Daejung couldn’t make her own choices. Jimin is all for omegas doing whatever they want, especially if that includes having sex with him in the office storage room. 

Still, as much as he supports omegas rights and wrongs, he wasn’t in the mood to get beaten up by some rich asshole. No hard feelings towards Daejung, but Jimin is a lover, not a fighter. They weren’t close enough for him to risk his handsome face. 

That’s how Jimin ended up in Seoul. Busan felt suffocating – and he might have garnered a reputation of sorts – he needed a fresh start. Perhaps the people here won’t be so wayward thinking and will let him be the free spirit he’s supposed to be. 

Taehyung laughed so hard at his reasoning he almost choked to death (well deserved). And yes, maybe Jimin’s argument would’ve been stronger if he hadn’t accepted the job offer at the royal palace – ‘the epitome of tradition’ , as his friend called it – but Jimin needed the money, desperately so. Living in the capital turned out to be much more expensive than he initially expected, draining his savings in the two months he dedicated to finding the perfect job. 

Besides, it’s not a bad job by any means. Most people in his field only dream of such an opportunity. Jimin started his career in event planning at the bottom of the food chain – as an intern – and worked his way up. Jimin might love to have his fun, but he takes his job very seriously – well, the actual planning, not the stupid rules attempting to control his love life. 

Who the fuck forbids their employees from having sex with each other at this day and age? It’s none of his employer’s business who he’s sleeping with. Not even if it’s their daughter. 

Still, as much as Jimin disagrees with such restrictions, he’s willing to compromise for the sake of this fresh start. New city, new job, new Jimin. 

Worst case scenario, he’ll leave after saving up some. 

“And this is the banquet room,” the tall alpha – Namjoon, if Jimin remembers correctly – juts his chin towards the great hall. Jimin scouts around, admiring the vaulted ceilings, embellished with scalloped edgings and custom moldings. The glossy marble floors squeak under the dozens of shoes slaloming between the fluted columns with leaf accents and scrollwork as they prepare for the event tomorrow. 

Jimin inspects curiously as the staff arranges the round dining tables, covering them with freshly pressed white tablecloths, neatly tied with a silk bow on the sides. 

“As you can see, we’re preparing for the masquerade tomorrow,” Namjoon explains, pushing his thick-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. Jimin’s gaze settles on the man’s face, admiring how effortlessly attractive he is without even trying. Namjoon sports a buzz cut that only highlights his sharp, expressive features even more. He’s probably fresh out of the military, if the muscles bulging under that pristine white button-up are anything to go by. Usually, Jimin finds alphas mildly interesting at best – and believe him, he’s been very open to experimenting, literally – but dear lord, he’d climb this man like a tree if given a chance. “We hold them annually, it’s a tradition of sorts. I think it will be a great opportunity for you to learn how things are run around here.” 

Jimin tears his gaze away from the alpha’s chest slowly – and that one button on top of it, fighting for its life to hold his shirt together – inspecting the thick velvet drape covering the large French windows instead. 

“Sounds wonderful,” he agrees, giving the other a dazzling smile as he continues, “I’ll shadow you all night, Namjoon-ssi.” 

Namjoon blinks, a soft rosy hue appearing on the apples of his cheeks. He clears his throat, followed by a fake cough – cute – before he speaks again. “Right, uhm… I’ll show you to your office.” 

Namjoon rushes forward with Jimin following leisurely with his hands in his pockets and a grin plastered over his face. 

Looks like he’s already found his new favorite colleague. 

👑

The next time Jimin steps into the banquet room, he’s transported into another dimension: a small orchestra is rehearsing – grand piano and all – under the tiered crystal chandeliers, all in black tuxedos. The staff placed elegant floral arrangements with a soft purple and pink color palette in every corner and set up the round dining tables with pristine white tablecloths. Jimin moves closer, nodding in approval when he finds the silverware thoroughly polished and spaced, the gold-edged china place settings and the centerpieces all positioned perfectly. 

Namjoon has been running a tight ship and Jimin will be eternally grateful for that. A team that’s already accustomed to a strict schedule is much easier to handle than one that breaks under pressure. Then again, he probably shouldn’t expect any less, it’s the freaking royal palace after all. The king might not wield much political power anymore – they have a parliament for that, thank Goddess – but he still has a reputation to uphold. A reputation of holding the most lavish, ridiculously expensive events of the country, outdoing themselves every time – no wonder they needed an additional event planner to keep things running. 

Eager to propel into action – and show off his skills – Jimin takes every chance to help with the finishing touches, including the adjustment of the flower arrangements and checking whether the champagne is the right temperature before the guests arrive. 

“I’ll handle it, Namjoon-ssi,” Jimin seizes the opportunity when the unavoidable last-minute disaster happens – the head chef flipping out when he finds out the staff forgot to chill the white wine for the first course – the other alpha’s tense shoulders sagging with a relieved expression developing in his face. Jimin smiles to himself, approaching the kitchen with confident steps. His people skills are his best aptitude – that he might or might not exploit in his personal life sometimes – and he’s more than familiar with passionate kitchen staff. 

The ball is in full swing by the time he returns to the banquet room. Jimin regards with satisfaction as the waiting staff circulates the crowd to offer canapés, changing the empty flute glasses to fresh ones. The guests – men in tuxedos and women with updos and sumptuous gowns – converse in small groups, the orchestra providing a pleasant background music. The familiar satisfaction blooms in his chest – the ball might’ve only started, but Jimin has enough experience to recognize the signs of a successful event. 

Jimin’s hunch is confirmed when he finds Namjoon leaning against the bar, sipping on a flute of bubbly champagne. All of the tension left Jimin’s body, the lines of concern on his forehead long gone. Following the precedent, Jimin allows himself a drink too, picking up a glass from the nearest waiter slaloming between the guests. 

“Not gonna lie, I was a bit concerned at first,” Namjoon notes, gazing at the mass of people gathered, “but it’s great to have a second set of hands around here.” 

Jimin suppresses a proud grin, reacting with a polite nod. 

Winning his supervisor’s approval – check. 

Now it’s only a matter of staying in his lane and not messing it up. Namjoon looks too young to have a daughter, so there’s no risk of repeating that mistake. 

The problem with these events is, once things are set into motion, they become terribly boring for someone who attends them as part of their job. Jimin has been to dozens if not hundreds of such occasions, and he’s realized pretty soon that they’re all the same at the core: rich people’s excuse to wear their fanciest clothes and show off their wealth. It’s like watching the mating dance of peacocks – entertaining at first, but gets old rapidly. 

Jimin surveys the crowd, bored. The variety of colors and expensive fabrics blend together in front of his eyes, until he spots something peculiar – or someone. 

The man sitting at the table at the center of the room, sipping on some whisky with an apathetic expression, his lipstick leaving a red stain on the glass. He’s resting his elbow on the white tablecloth top, propping his head up with his hand, legs spread, disregarding all rules of common etiquette, yet the looks he receives are nothing sort of condemning. No, people are admiring him. Jimin can’t blame them. He’s a sight to behold in that gray suit, Jimin’s mouth going dry when he notices the man is wearing a black corset instead of a dress shirt, the matching tie hanging loosely around his bare neck. His dark curls fall down to his shoulders, intentionally kept messy, his eyeliner so sharp Jimin can see it even through the small cutouts of his lace eye mask. 

Goddess, Jimin needs to have him. 

He beelines to the table as if he’s in a trance, bumping into several guests on his way. Jimin mumbles some meaningless apologies, never taking his eyes off the beautiful creature, afraid he’ll disappear, proving to be no more than a figment of a desperate alpha’s imagination. The man finally notices him as Jimin squeezes through the last group of people between them, Jimin halting his steps as his sharp gaze zeroes on him. 

The man’s eyes widen, pretty and doe-like, reflecting the lights of the crystal chandeliers. He arches an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat – a challenge. Jimin’s lips stretch into a brilliant smile, adjusting his suit as he approaches the table. 

To his astonishment, it’s the other who speaks first. It only makes him even more attractive in Jimin’s eyes. 

“You’re new,” the beautiful man notes, placing the glass to his lips as he gives the alpha a once-over. 

“Maybe you simply can’t recognize me in this exquisite mask,” Jimin cocks his head to the side with a cheeky grin. 

The corner of the man’s mouth tilts, his eyes gleaming with amusement. They both know that the last-minute mask Jimin got from the staff – black and boring, only covering the area around his eyes – would do nothing to hide his identity if the other knew him in the first place. 

“Please, it’s always the same crowd at these prissy events,” the man argues, his index finger – nail painted with black nail polish – tapping the glass he’s holding. “And I know for a fact that I’ve never seen you around here. I’d remember.” 

Jimin’s smile widens, as if he’d just won the lottery. He surely feels that way. 

“Well, we better get to know each other then.” 

👑

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Jimin moans as the man pushes him against the closet door, blindly searching around for the lightswitch as their lips crash together again. They didn’t get to introduce themselves, the man dragging him by his tie to the nearest walk-in closet used to store the guests’ belongings. It’s not like Jimin can complain. How could he when a beautiful man is humping his thigh and kissing him with such fervor that he’s getting dizzy?

He’s a beta, if Jimin had to guess based on the faint soapy scent lingering around him… Or perhaps, it’s lavender and he’s an omega? The alpha’s dick twitches in the confines of his pants, eager to find out. Frankly, Jimin would’ve been down to anything with this man regardless of his rank – hell, he would’ve taken it up the ass if that’s what the other is into – but he isn’t going to lie, he would be delighted if slick was involved. 

“Tell me your name,” Jimin asks anyway, mostly out of courtesy. He might be a whore, but he draws the line at being rude. 

“You don’t care about my name,” the man pants against his mouth, shrugging his blazer off. Jimin’s hands immediately fly to his waist with a groan – so maddeningly tiny – caressing the delicate silk. “And neither do I about yours.” Jimin laughs at the comment delightfully, squeezing the man’s hips. “Now shut up and fuck me.” 

Jimin obeys with pleasure, pushing the omega – he confirms his rank as he sucks a hickey onto his neck, nosing his scent gland daringly, the potent aroma of lavender pervading his nostrils – deeper into the closet, until his back is against an expensive-looking fur coat. Jimin makes quick work of pulling his pants down fervently, the breath caught in his throat when he makes out the lace underwear, matching the corset. 

Now, Jimin is rarely rendered speechless. But Goddess, he has trouble finding the right words to describe how crazy this omega makes him feel – and he knows it, judging by the proud grin on his pretty petal lips, his lipstick smudged. 

Suddenly overwhelmed by the abundance of emotions, Jimin grips the omega by the waist, turning him around. The manhandling only makes the other giggle, pressing his cheek and palms against the soft fur and wiggling his lace-covered ass enticingly. Clearly, everything is going according to his plan. Jimin wonders who seduced who. 

He fondles the omega’s firm backside, groaning when his thumb presses into a wet patch on the lingerie. Jimin kneels down, mouthing the material like a madman, a muffled moan escaping his throat when he tastes the sweet slick. 

He wants more. 

Needs it. 

Jimin hooks two fingers into the lace to pull it to the side, finding the supple skin underneath glistening with slick and… Oh Goddess, he has a tattoo. On his ass. It says ‘bite me’.  

This omega is Jimin’s wet dream. 

Jimin complies, his teeth grazing the black ink, eliciting a surprised little moan. Fuck, he even sounds pretty. Jimin can’t wait to make him sing.

He licks all the slick up, sticky and sweet on his tongue, then dives into the omega’s hole. Jimin sucks on the rim, smirking against the other’s skin when a hand flies to his head. Fingers curl into his dark hair, tugging. Jimin accedes, lapping over the omega’s entrance before pushing his tongue in. The man reacts with a low groan, his hips jerking, as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to get away or inch closer. As a preventative measure, Jimin grips the omega by the hips, holding him in place before he gets back to work. 

He thinks lavender might just become his new favorite taste. 

Jimin eats him out like a starving man, uncaring about the slick dripping down his chin, probably straight to his clothes – he can worry about his appearance later. The wanton sounds the omega lets out only spur him on even more, Jimin fucking his tongue inside those soft walls, not able to slow down even when the other’s legs are starting to shake. 

Jimin can’t even be ashamed of the whine he lets out when the omega pulls him away by the hair. The man looks at him over his shoulder, panting heavily as he tugs on the alpha’s hair again, tipping his head back. Jimin licks his lips, staring right into his eyes, his mouth stretching into a shit-eating grin when he witnesses the omega’s Adam's apple bob. 

It makes the other man snap, pushing his head away weakly before he turns back to the fur, planting both palms on it. 

“Quit playing,” the omega huffs. The order is probably meant to sound domineering, but it’s more bratty than anything. 

Cute. 

Jimin loves brats, always down to appease their every whimsy. One of his many character flaws, probably, but can you blame him? 

“My bad,” he chuckles, standing up to press against the man’s body. He grinds his clothed erection against the omega’s ass, mouthing the goosebumps between his shoulder blades. Jimin’s fingers follow the ribbon holding the corset together, tempted to rip it off to uncover even more skin. He wouldn’t be surprised to find more tattoos hidden underneath… If they only had the time. 

Perhaps, some things are better left a secret. At least Jimin will have something to fantasize about later. 

Jimin fishes his wallet out of his pocket, his fingers trembling slightly as he searches through it. Jimin isn’t the praying type, but he does consider it in desperation when he can’t seem to find what he’s looking for. It’s been ages since he’s last had sex – three weeks to be exact, but it feels like years – therefore, he hasn’t bothered to restock the condoms he keeps on him. Still, there should be one at least. There has to be. He can’t possibly pass on fucking the hottest omega he’s ever met… Should he suggest doing it raw? If there’s anyone worth the risk, it’s him . 

Thankfully, Jimin doesn’t have to opt for such drastic measures as he finds a single condom along with some crumbs in a pocket he never uses. Frankly, the color of the packaging looks old and faded, but Jimin is so desperate, he blames it on the bad lighting. He puts it into his mouth while he makes quick work of his pants and underwear. He loses his patience by the time he gets to his shirt, only bothering to undo the bottom buttons before he opts to tug on his cock instead, desperate for relief. He grabs the condom with his free hand, tearing it open with his teeth before he lets go of his dick to get rid of the packaging. 

“Goddess, what’s taking you so long?” The omega huffs, straining his neck to look at Jimin with a pout on his lips. Jimin rolls his eyes as he rolls the condom onto his length, more fond than anything, and pushes the man’s head back against the coat, keeping him there as he guides his cock to the omega’s hole. 

Everything in him screams to just bury himself balls deep in the omega, and Jimin would do exactly that if the other wasn’t such an impatient brat. No, Jimin must tease him a little, on a principle. Jimin glides the tip of his cock over the omega’s rim, pushing it in ever so slightly, just to make the other complain, wiggling in his hold. 

“If you don’t put it in this instant, you better let me go so I can go to my room and do it myself with a–” The weak threat ends with a moan as Jimin bottoms out. 

“You were saying?” The alpha smirks, nosing the omega’s neck as he accentuates his words with a sharp thrust, prompting a choked moan. 

“Harder,” the omega mutters, eyes fluttering closed as Jimin’s hand slips down to his neck, pressing his thumb into his scent gland. 

“As you wish,” Jimin pulls out until only the tip is inside, then plunges in with force, knocking the air out of the other. He sets a brutal pace, his heartbeat drumming in his ears as he keeps thrusting into the omega, the latter holding onto the fur coat with white knuckles to keep himself steady. Sweat glimmers on the man’s neck under the dim lights, the alpha dipping down to lick it up – he could swear it tastes like lavender too. 

Or perhaps this omega is making him lose his mind. 

Too fucked out to care, the man’s moans grow louder, making Jimin glance at the door with a hint of worry. His focus shifts back when he feels a hand settle on his ass, pulling him in deeper, impatient. Jimin reaches under the omega’s chest, grabbing the tie and holding it to the other’s mouth. 

“Bite, sweetheart,” he commands in a soft tone, the omega licking his lips hesitantly. “I can’t make you come if we get caught now, can  I?” He angles his hips to hit the sensitive bundle of nerves inside for good measure, prompting a breathy whine. The man swallows roughly, then opens his mouth, allowing the alpha to place the soft material into it. 

The next thrust makes the omega’s body slump against the coat, his legs almost giving out. Jimin supports him by the hips, fingertips digging into his skin, hard , desirous to leave his marks on the other. 

“Gonna knot you,” Jimin moans against the omega’s shoulder, “you’re gonna take it, yeah?” His hand circles the man’s waist, taking a hold of his cock, the action earning him a sweet whine. It’s a shame it’s muffled. The omega nods his head vehemently, hips driving forward then back, as if he couldn’t decide which source of pleasure to chase. Well, Jimin doesn’t plan to make him choose. He’ll give this omega everything. 

Jimin picks up his pace, his hand stroking the omega’s cock at the same rhythm. The omega’s moans blend into the unmistakable sound of skin slapping against skin, until he reaches his tipping point, the tie falling out of his mouth as he cries out in pleasure. He comes all over Jimin’s hand, soiling the fur coat for good. Jimin groans as the other clenches around his length, his rhythm faltering when he feels his knot swell. He bites into the omega’s shoulder as it locks them together to keep quiet, filling the condom to the brim. 

Jimin nestles against the man’s spent body, blinking slowly as he waits for the dark spots to disappear from his vision. His head is blissfully empty, a satisfied smile blooming on his lips as he sees a faint bite mark on the other’s shoulder – it didn’t break the skin, but it will surely leave a mark for a day or two. 

Thankfully, his knot goes down quite fast outside his ruts, allowing them to separate before the orgasmic bliss evaporates, leaving behind the post-fuck awkwardness. Still, Jimin’s got to admit, it pains him a little to detach from the omega. With a deep sigh, he slowly pulls his cock out, his eyes widening when he sees some cum dripping out of the man’s hole. 

“Fuck, I think it tore–” 

The door opens behind them, revealing a valet with an older woman – a guest, judging by her attire – behind the young staff member staggering back with such panic he bumps into the lady, yet both too shocked to react to that. No, they’re both busy staring at the two of them, wide eyes full of shock, all of them frozen for a long moment. 

Then, the lady’s gaze slips to their surroundings, pointing her index finger with an outraged expression. 

“What have you done to my coat?!” 

👑

“This is a disaster,” Namjoon paces back and forth in his office, palms pressed against his nape. “I’m going to lose my job, fail to pay my mortgage, and consequently, lose my house–” 

“Hyung, you’re not going to be fired,” the omega rolls his eyes, Jimin’s brows shooting up at both the honorific and the complete lack of any respect behind it – he found the brattiness quite sexy previously, but that was before it worsened his chances to keep his job. Jimin might not have a mortgage to worry about, but he has student loans and a lease for one year in the most expensive city of the country. The omega, on the other hand, doesn’t look concerned at all… Oh Goddess, he fucked some careless chaebol whose daddy will make sure he comes out of this situation unscathed, didn’t he? “I’ll talk to Appa, I promise this won’t affect you.” 

Here we go. 

Jimin should’ve expected that when he chose to sleep with a guest at an event catered to the cream of society. One would think it's common sense that Jimin would likely fuck someone important in an important event but alas, common sense comes sparsely when you think with your dick. 

“ Won’t affect me? Jimin-ssi is working under my supervision! I am responsible for him!” Namjoon opens his arms with a disbelieving huff, turning to Jimin – oh no. “You,” Namjoon points at him with a scornful expression. “What’s wrong with you? Fucking the prince on your first day? Are you out of your mind?!”

Jimin’s thoughts stop with a vinyl scratch, rendering him speechless. 

“T-the what?” He manages to muster out eventually, eyes flicking back and forth between the omega – who’s checking his nails, not even bothering to look at him – and his supervisor. “No way,” he shakes his head. This omega can't be Prince Seokjin, Jimin is sure of it. As the person next in line for the throne, Jimin prince’s face is plastered all over the media. Jimin would’ve recognized him – the mask doesn’t do much – unless… 

Unless Namjoon means the other prince, the younger one. Who just happens to be an omega. 

Still, “Prince Jungkook never attends public events a-and he doesn’t even look like him,” Jimin argues, more with himself than anyone. 

In Jimin’s head, the omega prince is a lanky teenager with a prominent nose and too much eyeliner. Even that mental image is quite blurry, considering how it’s been years since anyone saw him publicly. For some conspicuous reason, the royal palace is insistent on keeping him out of the public eye. The last time Jimin heard of him, he was shipped off to Europe to a boarding school. There were plenty of rumors flying around about the reason behind the prince’s sudden departure. Some thought he’d gotten into a scandal, others suspected a secret affair, but none of them were confirmed. Eventually, the prince faded into obscurity, and the public attention moved onto the next juicy gossip. 

The omega – Jungkook, perhaps? Oh Goddess, Jimin hopes he isn’t – barks out a laugh, finally deeming the conversation worthy to engage with. 

“What can I say,” he shrugs, perching himself on the edge of the office desk. “I had a glow-up,” he winks at Jimin, making the latter choke on his own saliva. 

Shit. 

Jimin fucked up, quite literally. 

Can he get deported for having casual sex? Or worse, thrown into jail? 

“Oh my Goddess, have you got no shame?! Stop flirting!” Namjoon scolds with a stern expression. “In fact, you better not even look at each other when His Majesty arrives.” 

Jimin immediately downcasts his eyes, his blood running cold. There’s no way it will end well for him. Starting over in this economy is basically a death sentence and he’s way too pretty for jail. Jimin is doomed. 

“Hyung, come on, don’t you think involving my father is a bit over the top? Why make a bigger deal out of it than it is?” 

“Are you kidding?!” Namjoon raises his voice, making Jimin wince. “You were spotted by Lady Choi! You jizzed all over her mink fur coat!”

“I’m sure if we just talk to her–” 

“Oh no, she is pissed,” Namjoon cuts Jungkook off, his foot tapping on the old carpet. “It was a family heirloom, Jungkook-ah . A family heirloom. She got it from her mother, who got it from her mother, who got it–” 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Jungkook groans. “Moons, hyung, you’re tense . You should go on a vacation.”

“ A vacation?! ” Namjoon parrots in disbelief. “You–” he halts, followed by a long, weary sigh. “Whatever. Please, just… Don’t make it worse, okay? Please, just this once, listen to me, Jungkook-ah.” 

“... Fine,” Jungkook mumbles, right before the door bursts open, revealing the crown prince with a comically wide grin on his face – seriously, what’s wrong with this family? 

Still, Jimin must admit, he’s a bit starstruck by Seokjin. He’s tall, even for an alpha, with wide shoulders and his head held high as he soaks in all the attention. His skin looks like porcelain and there’s not a single hair out of place on his head, as if he just walked out one of those baroque portraits decorating the halls of the palace. Even his distinct cedarwood scent feels regal. 

“Little brother, you’ve outdone yourself this time. Appa is furious. His head is red as a tomato,” Seokjin strolls in, stopping in front of Jimin. “And you must be the accomplice,” he murmurs, observing Jimin with a curious gaze. “Mhm, pretty. I hope that knot was worth it, Kook-ah,” he adds casually, Namjoon rubbing the bridge of his nose underneath his glasses in the background. 

“Ehh,” Jungkook shrugs. 

Now, Jimin kept his mouth shut so far, but he has his limits. 

And a huge, fragile ego. 

He didn’t get into so much trouble just for this omega to humiliate him not only in front of his supervisor, but the future king, too. 

“ Excuse me?” He gasps in offense. 

“You are excused,” Jungkook replies flatly. 

“That’s not what you said when you were coming on that fucking coat,” he bites back without thinking, Jungkook’s glare only fuel to the fire. “Oh wait, I forgot, you couldn’t speak because I had to stuff your mouth with your tie to stop you from moaning,” he boasts, eliciting a squeaky, very un-royal-like laugh from Seokjin. 

“I like you,” Seokjin pats him on the shoulder. “Which probably means my father will despise you.” 

Jimin blanches, gaping at the prince. 

Oh Goddess, he really is going to jail. He hopes they’ll let him call his mother at least so he can explain himself – or just make something up. That’s probably better. 

Shortly after, King Jihu storms into the office, his face flushed a deep burgundy color, indeed. Jimin instinctively straightens his back – although, he’d probably be better off curling into a ball and hiding under the table – holding his breath. 

The first thing Jimin notices is how he looks nothing like his sons. He’s a short alpha with a round belly and barely any gray hair left on his head. The princes must’ve inherited their beauty from their omega parent, although Jimin can’t remember the late queen. She passed away when he was very little – which means Jungkook was still a baby, as he’s a couple of years younger than his brother. 

Jimin can relate to that, although his missing parent was absent by his own will, leaving the family when the young alpha was still a baby.

“What have you done, Jungkook?!” The king’s thunderous voice draws Jimin out of his train of thought with a flinch, even though the man’s anger is clearly not directed at him, yet. “ I told you to keep a low profile!” 

Jungkook, completely unfazed, answers with his usual indifference, “I did. Can’t help that Lady Choi decided to leave early.” 

Jimin fears if the king gets any redder, his head might burst like a balloon. 

“You spoiled, ungrateful little brat,” the king yells, straight into Jungkook’s face. “You’ll be the death of me, child, I swear to Goddess!” 

“Appa, calm down, please,” Seokjin jumps in to de-escalate the situation, while his younger brother only rolls his eyes – Jimin would be impressed by the audacity if he wasn’t scared for his life. “I’m sure we can figure it out–” 

“No, I’m done,” the older alpha shakes his head. “We’ve been catering to his every whimsy since he was a pup and it only made him worse. This can’t go on anymore. He needs to learn that his actions have consequences–” 

“Uhm, guys, I’m right here,” Jungkook interrupts, his brows pinched together in an annoyed frown. 

Jimin decides to take it as his cue to go. 

“I think I should leave. This looks like a family matter,” he inches closer to the door with an awkward smile. 

“Yeah, you should,” Jungkook agrees. 

“You’re not going anywhere!” The king pushes the door closed so hard Jimin feels the shingles rattle in his bones. “What’s your name?” 

Jimin swallows roughly, “J-Jimin. Park Jimin.”

The king’s eyes narrow at him, his gaze scrutinizing and cedarwood scent overwhelming. A growl threatens to rip out of the younger alpha’s throat, taking everything in him to hold it back. Instead, Jimin lowers his head, hoping the lack of eye contact will soothe his inner wolf. 

“Jimin-ssi,” the king says after an unbearably long silence. “Since you deflowered my son, you shall make an honest omega out of him and marry him.”

Jimin blinks, wincing when Jungkook begins to object, loudly.  

“What the hell, Appa?! Are you out of your mind? I’m not marrying a stranger!” Jungkook springs onto his feet, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “Also, ‘ deflowered’, seriously? What is this? The fucking middle ages?!” 

“Appa, please. This is nonsense,” Seokjin attempts to ease the tension, but to no avail. 

“Watch your tone, son,” his father warns Jungkook ominously, despite Jungkook towering over him, then turns to his older son. “Both of you.” 

Seokjin straightens his posture, schooling his expression. Jungkook, however, doesn’t even try to hide how furious he is. 

“Namjoon-ssi, please begin the preparations for the wedding,” the king orders, the poor alpha looking like a deer caught in the headlights. “I want a small ceremony with only the members of the family and close friends. Keep the media out of it,” he orders. “And please, invite Lady Choi over for lunch tomorrow. I’ll explain the situation to her and ask for her discretion.” 

“Yeah? Are you going to tell her that you’re selling me off like livestock?” Jungkook huffs, arms crossed over his chest. It only earns him a measured look from his father, the latter not even bothering to answer before he storms out of the room with his servants running behind him to keep up with his pace. 

“What the hell?” Jungkook whispers in disbelief, raking his hand over his face. “This is a fucking nightmare.” 

“Don’t worry, Kook-ah,” Seokjin gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, his previously stoic expression melting into one full of sympathy. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow once he has cooled down a little.” 

“And if he doesn’t change his mind, then what?” 

Seokjin sucks in a breath, before forcing a weak smile onto his face. “We’ll cross that bridge when we’re there, little brother.” 

Jungkook bobs his head, his shoulders sagging. He looks defeated, small even, until some – probably evil – force possesses him, his head snapping up to stare at Jimin. 

“You,” he hisses, stomping through the office until their faces are just inches apart – Jimin hates to admit it, but anger makes him even more attractive: the clenched jaw only makes his features sharper, his gaze fiery. It probably shouldn’t turn him on, given the circumstances. “Why didn’t you say anything? Are you dumb?”

“What was I supposed to say? He’s the king ,” Jimin raises his voice, aggravated. He’s a patient man, but this rollercoaster from hell is pushing him to his limits. 

“So what? You’ll just marry me because he said so? Would you jump into a well if he asked, too?” Jungkook taunts, pushing into his personal space. The corner of Jimin’s mouth twitches, a growl gathering in the back of his throat – thankfully, Seokjin interrupts before he snaps. 

“Let’s just call it a night, okay? We’ll talk tomorrow, with clearer heads.” The crown prince steps between them, giving his little brother a pointed look. Jungkook tears his gaze away with a scoff, then stomps off. Seokjin chuckles at Jungkook’s antics, turning to Jimin next. “He’s got that from Appa.” 

“What?” Jimin mumbles dumbly. 

“His temper,” the prince explains with a grin. “Don’t worry, his anger goes just as fast as it comes.”

Jimin only reacts with an uncertain nod. Being on the receiving end of Jungkook’s anger did not leave him with the same feeling. 

“Stay the night, alright?” Seokjin says. It sounds like a suggestion, but Jimin has a feeling it’s more of an order in a shiny package. “Namjoon-ah, be a dear and prepare a room for our guest, will you?” 

Namjoon nods with a rosy hue on his cheeks, Jimin’s eyes flicking between the two, the tension palpable before Seokjin tears his gaze away from Jimin as he clears his throat. 

Interesting. Jimin would pry – he’s nosy, sue him – if he wasn’t so exhausted from his own personal soap opera. 

Once he’s in his room, he falls into a fitful sleep, dreaming of doe eyes and red lipstick smudged over a pretty cupid’s bow. 

👑

Jungkook’s anger does dissipate by the morning. He stabs his morning eggs violently when Jimin steps into the dining room, glowering all throughout the painfully silent breakfast. Jimin attempts to ignore him, but it’s quite difficult when Jungkook doesn’t even try to hide that he’s planning his gruesome death in his head. 

As opposed to Jungkook, the king seems to be in a chipper mood, humming some song as he strolls into the room. He goes straight into eating once he’s seated, foregoing any acknowledgements to the others. Jungkook shares a look with his brother, the two communicating silently. 

“So, Appa, did you sleep well?” Seokjin starts, careful with his words. The king hums noncommittally, devouring the pork belly on his plate. The crown prince glances at his brother, his gaze conflicted, the other giving him an encouraging nod. “So, about yesterday…” 

“What about it?” The king queries in between chews, standing up to pour himself some coffee. 

“I think we can admit we all let our emotions override our rationality–” 

“Oh no,” the king interrupts, taking a sip out of his drink. “I meant it. You two,” he wags his finger between Jungkook and Jimin, “are getting married.” 

“But, Appa–” 

“Nope,” Jihu clicks his tongue, “I don’t want to hear any more complaints and excuses, son. All I ever asked from you is to make sure you keep your shenanigans private and you couldn’t even do that. We can’t afford a scandal right now. The least you can do is make sure we avoid that.” 

“Don’t you think marrying Jungkook-ah off to a commoner is a bit drastic?” Seokjin notes, promptly ignoring the offended glare Jimin gives him. He probably has plenty of practice in that next to his little brother. 

“Why? What’s so different about it than marrying a Vietnamese princess?” the king argues nonchalantly, popping a grape into his mouth. Jimin doesn’t miss the way Seokjin’s jaw clenches at the mention of his future bride, the crown prince tearing his gaze away from his father as he attempts to school his expression. 

“This won’t give us any political advantage,” Seokjin calmly opposes. 

“Of course it will. The people will love it,” Jihu responds simply. 

As much as he hates to admit it, Jimin gets where he’s coming from. The public opinion on the crown hasn’t been the best lately. Times are changing and the new generation is more prone to see it in a negative light, arguing that holding up the monarchy is only a waste of money. Jimin shares the opinion, but he isn’t stupid enough to disclose that piece of information here. 

“So this is all it’s about?!” Jungkook slams his fist on the table, standing up. “You’re forcing me to do this to make a bunch of strangers love you more?!” 

“No, it’s to teach you that your actions have consequences. It’s way overdue,” Jihu clarifies, unimpressed. “Sit down and finish your breakfast,” he adds, taking another grape leisurely. “Oh, you’re both joining me for lunch too by the way, and apologize to Lady Choi.” 

“Fuck this. I’m not apologizing to anyone,” Jungkook scoffs, storming out of the dining room, Jimin staring after him, speechless. 

The king only sighs, leaning back in his chair as he chews on the fruit. 

“Dig in, Jimin-ssi,” he says, “lunch is a long time away.” 

Oh. 

So by ‘both’ he meant Jungkook and him.  

Fantastic.

Jimin swallows around the rocks in his throat, suddenly not hungry at all. Still, he picks up the fork and puts some of the scrambled eggs into his mouth, chewing on it dutifully. 

👑

Lady Choi is much less melodramatic about her mink fur coat now that the king is present. She is delighted to hear both of their apologies, despite the fact that prince grits it through his teeth as if he was held at gunpoint. Jimin imagines they had to physically drag him here. 

“Oh, I know how young love is,” she chuckles, attempting to pat Jungkook on the shoulder, but after a deathly stare, she opts to reach for Jimin instead. “It makes you do silly things.” 

Jungkook scoffs at that, refusing to look at any of them. 

“Well, don’t worry, it’s all water under the bridge. I hope you will get your happily ever after,” she continues, despite the lack of reaction from the so-called happy couple. “And a magical wedding of course! Oh, how much I’d love to see it!” She sighs dreamily, clutching her chest. 

Jimin has to hold himself back really hard from rolling his eyes.

“Of course you’re invited, Lady Choi,” Jihu plays along with a polite smile. “We’ll send you the official invite once these lovebirds settle on a date, right, son?” He gives Jungkook a pointed look, eliciting an exasperated sigh. 

“... Right,” Jungkook mumbles, like a scolded child. 

They say their goodbyes to both Lady Choi and the king – an excruciatingly drawn out process – leaving Jimin drained and ready to go back to his room. He could really use a moment to sit with his feelings and wrap his head around what happened in the last twenty-four hours. Multitude of possibly life-changing things transpired, and Jimin fears his serenity is only due to the lack of processing on his side. 

He should probably get around to doing that. 

Maybe he should call his mother. Or even better, Yoongi. That should give him a reality check. 

Is he even allowed a phone call? Or should he ask for permission? Even prisoners have the right to make one call, right?

Jimin is crudely dragged out of his thoughts by a slap on the back of his head, an angry omega glaring at him once he looks up. He’s starting to wonder if that’s just Jungkook’s face. Would be a shame. He’s so pretty when he laughs. And don’t get him started on the moaning– 

“Are you even listening?” 

No. 

“Yes, of course I am,” Jimin rubs the spot Jungkook hit him with an exaggerated pout. “No need to get violent. At least not without agreeing on a safeword first– Ow! Stop it!” He pushes the returning bloodthirsty arm away – damn this omega and his sexy, sexy biceps. 

“What did I say then?” Jungkook arches a brow. 

“Something unnecessarily rude or petty, probably,” Jimin mumbles, eliciting an eye roll so hard he’s surprised the prince’s eyes don’t fall out of their sockets. 

“I said I have a plan,” Jungkook repeats. 

“What plan?” 

“An escape plan.” 

Jimin blinks. 

“You want to run away?” He asks, flabbergasted. 

“Of course not,” Jungkook scoffs. “I want you to run away.” 

Jimin sputters, halting the curses ready to tumble out of his mouth when an oblivious staff member passes by. 

“We can’t talk here,” the prince whispers, leaning closer. Greedy – and plain stupid, probably – Jimin takes a big inhale, Jungkook’s soapy scent going to his head a little. “I’ll go to your room once everyone’s asleep.” 

“Sneaking into my room before the wedding? Naughty,” Jimin jokes with a grin. 

“Goddess, is everything a joke to you? This is serious!”

“Come on, ease up a little, Your Highness,” Jimin pokes him on the rib with his elbow playfully, earning a slap on his arm. “It will be fine. You already have a plan, don’t you?” 

“Ugh,” Jungkook waves him off dismissively. “Just wait up for me, will you?” he says, fuming away before Jimin can answer. 

Jimin looks after him, gaze settling on Jungkook’s bottom. Oh, Jimin hates to see him leave, but loves to see him go. 

👑

Strangely enough, it’s at dinner when it hits him. 

He’s engaged. 

Jimin is about to get married and he’ll be forced to move into the palace, and have these mind-numbingly boring dinners daily. 

He’ll have to watch the king chew with his mouth open every fucking day for the rest of his life – okay, that might be an exaggeration, it’s probably for the rest of the king’s life, but still. 

Jimin isn’t a fan of commitment. He can’t even keep a job longer than a year, for fuck’s sake. He isn’t ready for marriage. He’s too sexy to be tied down like that, it would be a crime against all omegas in Korea–

“Are you alright, Jimin-ssi?” Seokjin’s voice sidetracks his thoughts. Jimin’s head snaps toward the prince, the rice turning into a lump of cement in his mouth. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

Jimin swallows the food in his mouth roughly, not daring to look up when he feels someone’s gaze burning a hole into his skull, a gruesome reminder that the only omega he’s ever allowed to touch despises him. 

It will be Jimin and his toy collection until death does them apart. Maybe it would be better if he perished before the old man. 

“Y-yeah, I’m fine,” he mutters, stuffing his mouth full of the pork belly left on his plate to avoid any upcoming questions. 

He excuses himself before dessert is served, leaving through the kitchen to snatch up a bottle of soju on his way – it’s not stealing if he’s about to become a family member, right? 

Jimin locks the bedroom door after himself, slumping against it to take a deep breath. His eyes find the suitcase full of his things he managed to pick up from his apartment with a prodigal bodyguard as his chaperone – then again, perhaps the guy was there to keep Jimin from running away instead of protecting him from harm’s way. 

Jimin groans, his head knocking against the door. This is bad, even for him. Disastrous, even. 

Is his karma finally catching up to him? That’s what his friends always said, although jokingly. Still, he hasn’t been that terrible of a person, right? He donates to charity, respects his elders mostly, and follows the rules when they make sense. Sure, he likes to sleep around, but since when is that a crime? He’s always clear about his intentions with the omegas he sleeps with and always makes sure they leave his bed satisfied. 

Of course, defiling a public closet during his working hours doesn’t count as good karma, probably, but isn’t this punishment a bit extreme? 

Jimin feels like he’s going through the five stages of grief – grieving his best (single) years – and he just reached anger. 

Jimin falls onto the bed, taking a pillow and screaming into it, feet kicking the air. He keeps the pillow on his face as he searches for his soju blindly, then opens it with practice, only lifting his head – and the pillow – to chug half of it down before he sinks back into the mattress. He stares at the chandelier blankly as his mind races, the light glistening on crystallines dancing in his vision. Jimin lifts his head again with a groan, downing his bottle. He groans when he realizes it’s empty, throwing it on the other side of the bed. He should’ve taken more, dammit. 

A string of rapt knocks disrupt his pity party, Jimin cursing under his breath, pushing the empty bottle under the pillows hastily before he stands up to open the door. 

Jimin has to suppress a groan when he sees Jungkook. He’s bare faced, dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants and a baggy white shirt, his hair still damp from a shower, and yet he is still the most beautiful omega he’s ever seen. It’s infuriating, truly. How can someone with an angelic, innocent face like this be such a pain in the ass? 

Jungkook steps in without waiting for an invitation, his nose scrunching as he sniffs, glancing around. 

“Were you drinking?” He turns to Jimin. 

Yes. 

“Of course not,” Jimin lies, even adding an offended huff for good measure. “This is an important discussion, I need to be sharp.” 

Jungkook lifts a brow. “A bottle is peeking out from under your pillow,” he notes, unimpressed. 

Well, fuck. 

Jimin halts for a moment, holding himself back from checking the so-called evidence. If Jungkook is bluffing and he falls for it, he’d be confirming the other’s theory. Which shouldn’t be a big thing – he’s an adult for fuck’s sake, he’s allowed to have a drink – but Jimin feels petty. 

“Are you here to interrogate me or tell me that plan of yours?” He counters, crossing his arms over his chest. He glares at Jungkook firmly, holding eye contact until Jungkook diverts his gaze with an annoyed puff. 

“Whatever,” he grumbles with an eye roll. Jimin’s posture relaxes, a small, satisfied smile ghosting on his lips. He won this round. “So, our wedding ceremony is set to happen right before my heat as per custom. Unfortunately, it’s next week,” he explains. 

Jimin sighs, combing through his hair absent-mindedly. Just his luck. 

“We’ll need to go through with it.” 

“What?!” Jimin splutters, thunderstruck. “Are you crazy? I–” 

“Just let me finish,” Jungkook lifts his hand dismissively, starting to pace in the room as he carries on his explanation. “I assume you already have an assigned bodyguard,” he glances at Jimin whose scowl is all the confirmation he needs. “See? They won’t let us out of their sight. The only opportunity we’ll get is my heat. Obviously, we’re expected to spend it together.” Jimin forgets his impending doom for a hot minute at the implications, and it’s certainly written all over his face judging by the eye roll he prompts. “Don’t get too excited, buddy. We’re using it as a cover for you to run away. They will think you’re with me and by the time they notice you’re gone, you’ll be out of the country already–” 

“Wait, hold on,” Jimin interrupts. “You want me to leave the country? ” 

Jungkook stops, giving him a strange look. “Of course. You must be out of their reach or else they’ll just haul you back here. They don’t plan to announce the wedding until weeks later, when I recover from my heat, so you won’t get recognized either.” 

“No,” Jimin shakes his head. “Absolutely not.” 

Jungkook sighs impatiently. “Listen, this is the only way–” 

“I said no!” Jimin raises his voice, frustrated. “I have friends here, family!”  

“Well, do you have a better idea?!” Jungkook challenges, advancing his volume to match Jimin’s. 

“Have you ever thought of simply apologizing to your dad?” Jimin steps closer, poking the prince’s chest with his index finger. “Or just showing a hint of remorse?” 

Jungkook’s jaw tightens, a destructive fire igniting in his gaze. 

“No fucking way,” he spits. 

Jimin scoffs in disbelief. 

“So you want me to leave my entire life behind just so you can win this little pissing contest with your father?” 

“You don’t get it. No one does,” Jungkook tears his gaze away, attempting to bypass Jimin until the latter grabs his arm. 

“Then explain it to me,” Jimin demands. He expects Jungkook to pull away, but instead he just balls the hand Jimin is holding into a fist, gaze sharp like a knife.

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” Jungkook scoffs. “In fact, I don’t owe you shit. You should be grateful I’m giving you an out. Most people don’t have a choice. I surely didn’t.” 

“I feel so sorry for you,” Jimin says with an exaggerated pout, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Life must be so hard for you, Your Highness. Would you like me to grab you a ten thousand won bill to dry your tears? I unfortunately can’t offer you a fifty thousand one since I’m broke as fuck.” 

Now that does make Jungkook rip his arm away. 

“Being rich isn’t my entire personality, you know,” he hisses.

“Oh, so you don’t want me to leave my entire life behind just so you can fuck off to Europe again?” Jimin counters, feeling victorious when the prince’s face turns red. He hit a nerve. Finally. 

“You’re such a fucking prick!” Jungkook yells, leaning into Jimin’s space with a fiery look, posturing. 

“Well, it takes one to know one,” Jimin bites back, holding still, like a statue. Jungkook wants him to lean away, perhaps even take a step back – a classic showcase of dominance among wolves – but Jimin won’t give him the satisfaction, to hell with the consequences. 

A variety of counteractions flash through his mind from mildest to the most violent, even considering Jungkook attacking him. Yet, nothing could’ve prepared him for when a pair of lips collides with his, like a car crash. 

Jimin kisses back. 

He hates that it feels good. 

But Goddess, it does.  

His hands find Jungkook’s waist, tugging him closer harshly. Jungkook huffs against his lips, then leans in again, his tongue invading Jimin’s mouth with force. Jimin fights back, their tongues battling for control until Jimin feels a sharp sting on his lips, attempting to detach from the omega with a hiss. Jungkook’s teeth pull on his lips, holding on just long enough that it hurts – a deliberate action, judging by the proud smirk developing on his face. 

With a low growl, Jimin pushes him onto the bed, Jungkook landing on the mattress with a surprised little huff. Jimin pulls his shirt off before he climbs on top of Jungkook, grabbing both of his knees and pushing his legs apart to settle between them. Jimin dips down until their chests are pressed together, kissing Jungkook with fervor. The omega’s blunt nails dig into his back, scratching red marks into the skin. Another warning rumble erupts from Jimin’s chest, but it only seems to spur Jungkook on, his fingers wandering down until they stumble into his pants. Jungkook pulls on the waistband so it snaps back against Jimin’s skin, making the latter hiss. 

This little brat. 

Jimin needs to teach him a lesson. 

With a sudden move, he detaches from Jungkook, sitting back on his feet. Jungkook blinks at him, cheeks rosy and his swollen lips parted slightly, panting. 

So pretty. 

It’s a shame it only lasts until he opens his mouth. 

Jimin manhandles Jungkook onto his belly before he has a chance to throw in a witty comment, pulling the sweatpants off his body with such force he swears he hears it rip. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though, if the moan he lets out is anything to go by. 

Jungkook arches his back, lifting his ass in the air – bare , since he decided to forgo underwear that day as it seems – slick glistening in between his cheeks. 

Jimin licks his lips, his mouth watering as he reminisces about the delicious taste… Not today. Jungkook doesn’t deserve to experience his tongue game after all the shit he just pulled. Instead, Jimin slaps his ass, hard , not missing the muffled whine it prompts. 

With a sly grin, Jimin stands up, adjusting his erection in his pants as he approaches his suitcase. Jungkook turns his head towards him with a frown, his gaze following his movements. He doesn’t take his eyes off the alpha’s clothed cock as he speaks, “What are you doing?” 

“Checking if I have any condoms left,” Jimin explains as he scours though his belongings. He didn’t think to pack any given the watchful eyes of the bodyguard that followed his every move, but there must be some leftovers from his previous trips. 

“We can do it without one, it’s fine. I’m still a week away from my heat,” Jungkook suggests – or rather demands – impatiently. 

“Well, that’s just irresponsible, don’t you think?” Jimin arches a brow, the prince slumping onto the sheets with a groan. 

“Ugh, you’re so lame , ”Jungkook groans, burying his face in the pillow. 

Ignoring the other’s complaints, Jimin searches diligently, letting out a victorious ‘aha’ when he finds what he was looking for. He lifts the condoms to show Jungkook, letting the strip unfold for a dramatic effect, earning himself one of Jungkook’s trademark eye rolls. 

“Good for you. Now do something useful and stick that dick inside me, will you?” Jungkook lifts his hips again, reaching back with both hands to separate his cheeks invitingly. 

Jimin doesn’t have to be told twice. He kicks his pants off on his way to the bed, already opening a condom as he kneels behind the prince. Jimin gives his painfully hard cock a tug once he rolls the condom on, sighing in relief. 

Goddess, the things this omega does to him. It’s not difficult to get Jimin into the mood, but Jungkook turns him on with the most ridiculous things, like arguing for instance. Jimin wouldn’t put that beneath him, he likes a good challenge. Or perhaps, it’s just Jungkook’s mere presence that affects him. 

Jimin fends off the thought, focusing on the delicious wet hole in front of him instead. He inserts two fingers, scissoring the omega open as he strokes his cock, too impatient to hold himself back anymore. Jungkook seems to share his sentiment, pushing back against his hand eagerly. 

“Another, give me another,” Jungkook slurs, his fingers clutching the sheets as the alpha curls his fingers inside him. 

Deeming the omega stretched enough, Jimin pulls away instead, eliciting a displeased whine.

“I’ve got something better for you,” he croons, sliding the tip of his cock over the prince’s rim teasingly before he pushes in. They moan in unison as he bottoms out, the alpha’s fingers pressing into the meaty flesh of Jungkook’s backside. 

After that, Jimin doesn’t waste time. He pulls back until only the tip is inside, then rams into Jungkook repeatedly, the distinct, wet sounds of sex blending with their moans and grunts. He channels all his frustrations into it, sweat gathering on his forehead, cooling his heated skin. 

Jungkook seems to enjoy the rough treatment – perhaps, this is exactly what he wanted, the realization dawns on Jimin, only angering him more – moaning unabashedly as his body moves up and down from the force of Jimin’s thrusts, really testing the integrity of the bed frame. 

He looks exquisite with his back in a perfect arch, the shirt sticking to his skin, allowing Jimin to see his back muscles moving as he holds onto the sheets with a white knuckle grip. It’s a shame he didn’t get the omega naked entirely. He must be a vision. Something out of Jimin’s wet dreams. 

Thankfully, Jungkook is there to remind him of his crude nature before he gets lost in his horny daydreams. 

“Can’t you go harder?” Jungkook pants, craning his neck to look at him. “I’ll fall asleep at this pace.” 

Dream … More like a nightmare. An infuriatingly sexy, confusing nightmare. 

Jimin grunts annoyedly, pushing Jungkook's head back onto the pillow. Jungkook only laughs breathily, pressing his ass back to meet Jimin’s thrusts in an impressive sync. Spurred by an instinctive need to win this little game for dominance, Jimin’s hand slips down to the base of the omega’s neck, grabbing the loose skin as he picks up his pace. The way his crotch slaps against Jungkook’s ass is borderline painful, but Jimin is too delirious from victory when the prince goes limp underneath him with a high-pitched moan. He feels almost drunk as he rotates his hips to find Jungkook’s prostate, the omega coming all over the expensive linen instantly. 

Jimin keeps scruffing him as he chases his own orgasm, filling the condom after a dozen more snaps of his hips with a low groan. He collapses on top of the omega, catching his breath as the pleasure courses through his system, making his limbs feel light as a feather – still, even in this fuzzy state, the alpha knows that’s not true, so he carefully rolls them onto the side. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles when Jungkook hisses, the knot tugging on his rim from Jimin’s movements. “Don’t wanna squish you,” he clarifies, nosing along Jungkook’s neck. 

“I’m broader than you. And taller.” It’s slurred, Jungkook still drowsy from the scruffing, yet he still has it in himself to argue. Unbelievable. 

“Can you just not for one fucking moment?” Jimin gruffs, holding Jungkook’s neck delicately, thumb pressing into his scent gland. Jungkook’s body relaxes immediately, followed by a satisfied little hum, too lost in the haze to pick a fight, just as Jimin hoped. 

Soon, Jungkook is fast asleep in his arms, the warm, heady scent of lavender whisking Jimin away into dreamland, too. 

👑

Jimin wakes up to someone knocking at his door, groaning as he’s cruelly dragged out of his peaceful sleep. The first thing he realizes is that he’s alone. The second, is that the bed is already cold where Jungkook laid. 

“Coming, coming,” he attempts to pacify the intruder waiting in front of the door as he stretches out, cringing at the sticky feeling of dried cum and sweat on his skin. Jimin blindly searches for a blanket to cover himself with, the specific blend of shock and anger that he’s starting to associate with Jungkook waking him up faster than a double shot of espresso. 

He picks up his discarded clothes from the ground instead, balancing on one leg as he slips into his pants hurriedly, pulling his crumpled shirt over his head mid-walk. Naively, Jimin expects to see the cleaning lady, or one of the many assistants flocking around the members of the royal family all the time. So, he’s a bit taken aback when he’s face to face with his supervisor – or ex-supervisor? Does he even have a job anymore? – Kim Namjoon, giving him a once over, not even trying to hide his disapproval. Well, they are way past that, Jimin supposes. 

“Am I interrupting?” Namjoon queries, glancing behind the other alpha suspiciously. 

“No,” Jimin responds hurriedly, blocking Namjoon’s view with an awkward smile, not wanting to risk Namjoon’s prying eyes spotting any traces of the prince’s evening visit. 

“... Okay,” Namjoon nods, unconvinced by the look of it, but he’s smart enough to not pry more. The less he knows the less trouble he will get into. “I’ll need you to email me your guest list by the end of the day,” he switches into work mode, reading off the clipboard in his hand. 

Jimin blinks. 

“Guest list?” He parrots dumbly. 

“Yeah. For the wedding,” Namjoon clarifies with a hint of amusement in his tone. Or is it annoyance? Jimin can’t tell. 

Jungkook’s plan flashes through his mind, his gut clenching uncomfortably when his mind includes his mother’s sad, disappointed face in the already nightmarish picture. 

“No need for that,” he chokes out. 

“You don’t want your family to attend your wedding? Or friends, at least?” Namjoon’s forehead creases, his voice full of doubt. 

Jimin swallows around the knot in his throat, an acidic feeling of guilt fizzing in his belly, making it burn. 

“N-no.” 

“O-okay,” Namjoon nods reluctantly before crossing it off his to-do list. Jimin notices a small hickey peeking out from under his collar, making his brows arch. Interesting. He discretely sniffs the air, catching a whiff of cedarwood. Very interesting. 

“That’s it? I, uh, need to wash up before breakfast,” Jimin shifts on his heels impatiently. 

“You already missed breakfast,” Namjoon informs flatly.

“Oh,” Jimin breathes out. “Sorry. I was… Occupied.” 

“Yeah, I bet. Just go to the kitchen, I’m sure they have something,” Namjoon mumbles, his gaze flicking down to Jimin’s chest. “Nice shirt, by the way,” he adds before turning on his heels, leaving the stunned alpha to his own devices. 

Jimin glances down, slapping his palm against his forehead when he notices it’s not his shirt he’s wearing, but an oversized white one, drenched in the scent of lavender. 

👑

An hour later, Jimin finds himself pacing in his room, munching on a stale croissant. 

The more he thinks about Jungkook’s escape plan, the crazier it sounds. Where is he supposed to go? With what money? He can probably ask for some money from his dear husband-to-be (he’s pretty sure that shirt Jungkook left in his room would be enough to cover his living costs for a month or two), but what’s next? He doesn’t speak any languages other than Korean, so he’d have to start from the bottom. Maybe he can try and dust off his Japanese he learned back in high school. He’s always wanted to visit Tokyo after all. See, there is some good in this horrible, terrible situation he’s got himself into. Then again, Jimin hoped he’d visit the city as a tourist, not as a political refugee. 

Anyway. 

His friends would understand if he explained the reason behind his sudden change of residence. They would tell him what a dumb ass he is, obviously , but Jimin feels that he might deserve that this time around. They might even consider visiting him sometimes, if Jimin is lucky. 

His mother, though, now that will be a tough one. She was already apprehensive about his move to Seoul, but him leaving the country entirely might be the last straw… 

Maybe Jimin should start with his friends, get the easy one out of the way before he tackles that conversation. 

With a deep breath, he grabs his phone, finds his best friend’s name, and presses call. Taehyung always goes easier on him, even if he’s doing the dumbest things. Hopefully, Yoongi isn’t home and he can simply let Taehyung break the news. Jimin doesn’t feel like being roughoused through the phone tonight. He’d rather have his best friend comfort him and tell him it’s not his fault, thank you very much. 

Taehyung picks up after two rings, speaking into the phone with his usual enthusiasm, “Jimin-ah, my man! How are you?” 

Soft jazz music plays in the background, a sign that he’s in his studio, doing Goddess knows what. Taehyung is an artist through and through, a real renaissance man… Except, the twenty-first century renaissance seems to be strange sculptures made out of forks and rugs made out of dog hair. Jimin doesn’t know a thing about art, so he can’t judge whether it’s good or not, but he’s more than happy to support his friend at every strange endeavor he takes. 

“Good! Things are… good.” Jimin says out of reflex, cringing internally. “H-how are you? How’s Yoongi?” 

“Ah, same old, same old. The rounder he gets, the grumpier he is. It’s adorable,” Taehyung responds fondly, the smile evident on his voice. Taehyung is a lovesick puppy when it comes to his mate in general, but ever since Yoongi got pregnant, it increased tenfold. They’re kind of insufferable now, feeding each other and shit like that. Jimin might miss his friends, especially Taehyung, but he’s a little relieved he doesn’t have to pretend he doesn’t find it gross. 

“That pup will probably come out with the same frown hyung has,” Jimin jokes, mostly just to buy time. 

Taehyung bursts out in a sweet laugh, “You know what? I hope so,” he says in between giggles, his cheerfulness making the edges of Jimin’s lips curl up, too. “Anyway, how is work? Do you like it? Oh,” he gasps, “have you seen Prince Seokjin? Is he as hot as he looks on TV?” 

Jimin winces at the question, rubbing his temple with a deep sigh. He might as well rip the bandaid off now. 

“I did. He’s, uhm, about to become my brother-in-law, I guess.” 

The line goes silent. Jimin would think the call disconnected if not for the faint music in the background. 

“Say something, please,” he pleads, voice small. 

He does receive a response right after, only it’s not Taehyung. 

“Your what?! ” 

Jimin groans, raking his hand over his face. 

“Hi, Yoongi-hyung,” he mumbles, “I didn’t know you’re listening.” 

“Oh, I bet you didn’t,” Yoongi huffs, followed by some shuffling, and a quiet, but snappy ‘give me the damn phone’ addressed to Taehyung. Jimin would laugh if he wasn’t feeling miserable. “What the fuck have you done?” 

“Why do you always assume it’s me who has done something?” Jimin replies defensively. 

“Because you’re an idiot who always gets himself in trouble,” Yoongi claps back, eliciting an exasperated exhale from Jimin. “What do you mean your brother-in-law? Who are you–” Yoongi pauses with a gasp. “Shit, tell me you didn’t.” 

“I… didn’t?” Jimin replies cautiously. 

“Jimin, are you insane? You fucked the prince?” 

That didn’t take him long to figure out. Looks like Jimin is more predictable than he thought. 

“Who? Prince Seokjin? Jimin fucked Prince Seokjin?” Taehyung interjects from the side. 

Yoongi is the brains of their relationship, Goddess bless. 

“No, babe. He fucked the other prince, the younger one,” Yoongi spells it out for him with the little patience he has left. “Ugh, what’s his name, Jungwon? Jung–– something.” 

“Jungkook,” Jimin mumbles under his nose. 

“Whatever,” Yoongi clicks his tongue. “Why the fuck are you marrying him?! Your dick game can’t be that good. You can’t keep an omega for the life of you.” 

“Woah, woah, hold on a minute,” Jimin interrupts, offended. “What do you mean–” 

“If you start to get defensive about your fucking skills, Jimin, I swear to Goddess, I’ll go to the royal palace personally and strangle you.” 

Jimin clamps his mouth shut, knowing better than to argue with Yoongi when he’s in a bad mood – he would’ve risked it if Yoongi wasn’t pregnant, but ever since he has Taehyung’s spawn in his belly, he’s diabolical. 

“Okay, baby, let’s not threaten the prince’s fiancé on a public line,” Taehyung suggests softly, “give me the phone, please?” 

A string of curses follow, calling Jimin a variety of things ranging from ‘stupid alpha’ to ‘curse hand delivered by the Moon Goddess herself.’ Yoongi has always been very creative when it came to telling him off. 

“So, first of all, what a score, dude! The prince? Really? You’re crazy,” Taehyung says, lowering his voice so his mate doesn’t hear. 

Jimin bites back a smile, his chest warming up by his friend’s goofiness. 

“I didn’t really know he was the prince,” he admits. 

“Oh, so he’s hot hot,” Taehyung concludes with the enthusiasm of a puppy, too excited to keep his voice down. 

“I can’t believe I mated you!” Yoongi’s voice comes from the background, the two alphas bursting out in a fit of laughter. 

“He is,” Jimin agrees in between giggles. “Although, he’s a handful.” 

“Well, you have two hands for a reason,” Taehyung replies simply. “You’ll be fine. Marriage is pretty cool, actually. You always have someone to cuddle with.” 

Jimin’s smile fades, leaving behind a painful sting under his ribs. Cuddles… As if. Jungkook barely tolerates talking to him. And he has a feeling he didn’t take the scruffing kindly either… 

What the hell happened there? Jimin is never this rough during sex. Sure, he finds it hot, but he always discusses it with his partners first. This time, however, it all happened so fast, and Jungkook kept taunting him until his wolf came forward and… This omega just brings the worst out of him. 

Still, it’s not an excuse. What if he’s made Jungkook uncomfortable? 

Jimin should apologize. 

And get the fuck out of here as soon as possible, probably. 

“Taehyung-ah, I’m not staying here. I can’t. ” 

“What? What do you mean?” The other alpha murmurs in confusion. 

Jimin sighs, planting himself down on the bed to stare out of the window, a bodyguard blocking his view – how ironic. He tells the story from the start, not omitting the gruesome details, his friends listening intently on the other end of the line. Frankly, he’s relieved he can’t see their faces, especially Yoongi’s. He never shied away from expressing his feelings, especially if it’s negative. 

“So you scruffed him? Woah,” is Taehyung’s first reaction. Very fitting. “Babe, can we–” 

“Absolutely not,” Yoongi shuts him down immediately before shifting his focus back to their friend. “Jimin… I almost feel sorry for you.” 

“Wow,” Jimin lets the words sink in. Yoongi feeling sorry for him ? He’s truly hit rock bottom. “I truly fucked up this time, didn’t I?” 

“Oh, absolutely. Fuck up of the century.” 

Jimin flops onto his pillow with a groan, traces of  Jungkook’s scent still sticking to the soft material. He hates how much it soothes his nerves. It’s probably just the lavender, right? It’s supposed to be a calming scent, after all. 

“But if anyone can pull this off, it’s you,” Yoongi adds. 

“Huh?” Jimin’s eyes widen, flabbergasted. 

“It will be tough, but you’ll adjust. You always do, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi continues, his tone uncharacteristically soft. 

“So, you think I should go?” Jimin asks for confirmation, or perhaps, validation. 

“Yeah. No one should be forced into a loveless marriage,” Yoongi asserts firmly. “It’s messed up that it’s still happening in this time and age. Fuck them. Fuck the monarchy,” he adds, getting heated. If they keep talking, he’ll probably start to rant about capitalism too, Jimin thinks, smiling fondly as he reminisces their drunken discussions about the terrible state of the world. 

“You’re right. I’m not a plaything these rich people can toy with!” Jimin agrees, fired up. He feels silly for ever doubting himself. He’s The Park Jimin after all. Not some loser trophy husband for a prince, no matter how sexy said prince is. 

“That’s the spirit!” Taehyung chirps from the side passionately. “You go, bestie! … Wait, where are you going exactly?” 

“Semantics,” Jimin brushes the otherwise significant question to the side, not wanting to lose the sudden burst of confidence. “I’ll talk to you later. Thank you, guys!” 

“Wait, Jimin–” 

Jimin ends the phone call before Taehyung can finish the sentence, springing onto his feet and approaching the door with confident steps. 

👑

When Jimin asks around where he can find the prince, he’s directed to the indoor court – because, of course , the palace has one – where Jungkook usually attends his weekly fencing classes. He steps inside just in time to witness Jungkook pulling the headgear off, shaking his long, damp curls out of his eyes – Jimin swears he sees it in slow motion, just like in some cliché romantic comedy. He’s taken off guard so much, he stumbles on his own feet, alerting both Jungkook and his teacher of his presence.

Jimin straightens up immediately, pretending that his precious mishap didn’t happen. 

“Can we talk?” 

Jungkook arches a brow, his gaze inscrutable, as if Jimin is trying to look straight through a brick wall. 

Instead of answering, Jungkook turns to his teacher, the two exchange some words in Italian – or at least, that’s what he thinks so from the little part his brain registers. For the rest of it, he’s occupied by admiring the prince’s firm backside in the heavy cotton breaches, then his thick, muscular thighs straining the fabric, and don’t get him started on that impossibly small waist.

Jimin is so immersed in the visual experience, he barely hears when Jungkook addresses him. 

“My eyes are up here, Jimin-ssi.”

Jimin blinks to diffuse the trance that settled on his brain. It physically pains him to tear his gaze away from Jungkook’s legs, his only solace is the fact that Jungkook’s face is just as pretty. 

If only not for that shit-eating grin on his face he sports currently. Jimin thinks he prefers the frown. Sue him, it grew on him. Anyhow, he’d take anything over Jungkook talking given how everything that happens to leave his mouth is infuriating. Even the honorific feels insulting when it comes from him. 

“Wanna fence?” Jungkook stands into position with his arm held behind his back, pointing the sabre at him. “I still have half an hour before my horse riding session.”

“What? No,” Jimin pushes the blade away. “I need to talk to you.” 

Jungkook blows out a breath, his lower lip jutting out. “Wimp,” he mumbles, letting down his weapon. 

Jimin scoffs in disbelief, his blood pressure already climbing. But he isn’t here to fight. So, he takes a deep breath and decides to be the bigger person. 

“Look, I wanted to apologize,” he says with a mournful look. “I didn’t mean to get so rough with you yesterday. I’m sorry.” 

Jungkook stares at him with a blank face for a long moment, before he tears his gaze away with an eye roll. 

“Well, now you just ruined it,” he mumbles. “A wimp, indeed.” 

Jimin has to do a double take, hoping he’s heard it wrong. But no. Jungkook practices his moves with the sabre, ignoring the effect his remark had entirely. 

Jimin sees red. 

“You know what?” He picks up the blade the teacher left behind. “Let’s fight,” he says with a suppressed growl evident in his tone. It should feel threatening, especially to an omega, but Jungkook only smirks. 

“You should wear a mask,” Jungkook points with his chin at the equipment neatly stacked in the corner, “A plastron too, preferably.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Jimin gruffs. 

“Well, that’s just irresponsible, don’t you think?” Jungkook repeats Jimin’s sentiment from the night before, the glint in his eyes challenging. Jimin fights the urge to tackle him onto the ground. Whether he’d beat him up or kiss him is up for debate. 

“Are we fencing or not?” Jimin stands into position just like he saw Jungkook do, pointing his sabre at the other. 

Jungkook’s head tips back as he laughs, delighted and entirely unaffected by his threats. “Alright,” he drops his own mask. “I’ll be careful then. It would be a shame if you lost an eye before the wedding,” he continues with a playful smile as he prepares for the fight, “it would ruin the pictures.” 

With another growl bubbling up in his chest, Jimin lunges, Jungkook blocking the blade with ease, the smirk on his face remaining. It only angers Jimin further, thrusting his sword again with a yell. Jungkook makes an elegant circular move around Jimin’s blade and pushes it away, eyeing Jimin’s reaction curiously. 

Jimin’s face burns from an uncomfortable blend of shame and rage, prompting him to thrust his sabre toward his opponent again, Jungkook blocking this time with his sword, the blades kissing with a loud clank . Their eyes meet, something dangerous glimmering in Jungkook’s gaze. 

Before Jimin knows it, Jungkook’s weapon separates from his, then plunges forward, its tip hitting him right in the chest, painfully so. 

“Touché,” Jungkook grins, observing as the other rubs the spot where the blade hit him. “It will bruise, you know” he spins the sabre with a practiced ease as they circle each other. 

“I can handle a few bruises,” Jimin shoots back, attacking again only for Jungkook to hinder his efforts with a flick of his blade, before grazing Jimin’s chest with the edge of it. 

“Touché,” Jungkook announces, the glint in his eyes gleeful.

Once again, Jimin is exactly where Jungkook wanted him, dancing like a fucking monkey in the circus. 

If Jimin was a smarter person, he’d take a step back and calm down. 

Unfortunately, he isn’t. 

He is a hot-headed idiot who’d rather die than have his ego bruised. Yoongi always told him his impulsiveness would bite him in the ass eventually. 

Looks like the day has come. 

“Touché,” the cursed word follows another sharp sting on his chest. “And touché,” then again on his belly. Jimin staggers back with a groan, scowling at the omega who twirls the weapon in his hand casually. 

Throwing all sportsmanship aside, Jimin runs towards Jungkook with his sabre pointed forward. However, before he could score a point, Jungkook puts his blade in front of his feet, tripping Jimin. Jimin softens the fall with his hands so he doesn’t fall face flat on the ground, his weapon clattering on the ground. He sits down, checking the damage the fall did to his knees, only to find the pointy end of the  omega’s blade right under his chin. 

Jimin slowly lifts his head, a pair of pretty doe eyes full of fire staring back at him. 

“Rule violation,” Jungkook says. “You’d get a black card for this if this was a real match.” 

“I’m pretty sure tripping your opponent is against the rules too,” Jimin bites back. 

The corner of Jungkook’s mouth twitches, as if he’s fighting a smile. 

It doesn’t last long. 

Jungkook tears his gaze away, poking Jimin’s chest one last time before he pulls his sabre away. 

“Touché. That’s five. I win,” Jungkook announces, placing his weapon on the racket, Jimin staring at him in disbelief. 

“Well, that was mildly entertaining,” Jungkook says, pulling his gloves down to check the time on his watch. “I suppose I can get to the stalls a bit early, bond with the new Friesian,” he mumbles. “So, if that was all, Jimin-ssi–”

“I will do it,” Jimin interrupts, Jungkook arching a brow questioningly. “Your stupid plan. I will do it. I want to get as far away from you as possible,” he spits and in the heat of the moment, he means it. 

The beaming smile on Jungkook’s face, however, makes it appear as if he’s heard the best news ever. 

Perhaps, it is. 

“Wonderful. I’ll settle the details and let you know,” Jungkook says as if they were discussing dinner plans. “I’d say good match, but you were pretty terrible at this,” he adds before strolling out of the court with a skip in his step. 

👑

This is possibly the lamest royal wedding in history, Jimin thinks as they sit around the celebratory feast following the ceremony. He looks around the table, seeing the same sentiment written all over the guests’ faces – can you even call them guests if they’re basically forced to be here? Seokjin is here out of duty, Namjoon too, and the others are all staff members, if Jimin’s memory serves him right. The only person who actually wanted to come is Lady Choi. Then again, Jimin is here against his will too, so perhaps it’s fitting. 

His eyes settle on Seokjin, catching him once again staring at Namjoon on the other side of the table. Jimin follows the line of his gaze, finding Namjoon immersed in devouring the steaming bowl of samgyetang in front of him, despite it being painfully unseasoned. Jimin looks back at Seokjin, their eyes locking for a moment, the crown prince caught off guard. He swiftly tears his gaze away, the tip of his ears so red Jimin has to bite back a laugh. 

Jimin is crudely pulled out of his thoughts by an elbow in his ribs. He scowls at Jungkook – his dear husband – who glares back at him. 

“What?” Jimin hisses. 

“Stop acting so suspiciously,” Jungkook whisper yells. 

“I’m not,” Jimin retorts, prompting an eye roll. 

“Just eat your fucking soup and stop looking like you’re at a funeral,” Jungkook grits through his teeth. 

“It does feel like one,” Jimin notes, earning another hit on his side. This time, he elbows Jungkook back, the omega spilling some of the soup on his crisp white button-up. Jungkook shoots him a sinister glare. 

A clinking sound puts an end to their staring contest as the king hits a spoon against his wine glass – completely unnecessary if you ask Jimin, since the table was silent to start with. 

“Thank you all for coming,” Jihu says ceremoniously. Jimin almost scoffs. As if they had a choice. “We’re here to celebrate my son’s wedding with–” he glances behind his back, his assistant stepping closer to whisper into his ear, “with Jimin-ssi.” Jungkook snorts, clearly amused by his dad not even bothering to remember his now husband’s name. Jimin truly despises this family. Except maybe Seokjin. But he’s on thin ice by association. “As you know, the happy couple wants to keep their relationship to themselves a bit longer, so please respect their wishes,” he continues, gazing at Lady Choi, who’s nodding enthusiastically. Jimin has a feeling she won’t last longer than a day without gossiping. He’ll have to leave the country fast . 

According to Jungkook’s plan, it shouldn’t take him longer than a day to get to Tokyo. The entire route is mapped out for him, down to the hotels he’s staying at on his journey. Jungkook even set him up a personal account with some money to keep him afloat for a couple of months. 

It’s a good plan. A great plan, even. Jimin didn’t expect such efficiency from Jungkook. But then again, he must have plenty of experience in sneaking around, given his track record. 

Jimin should be relieved yet all he feels is dread. A bad premonition has settled in his gut, churning his insides, like poison. Every instinct of his is screaming at him, telling him that it’s a bad idea and Jimin has no clue why. 

Perhaps, it’s just the panic settling in. He’s about to leave behind his entire life after all. Any normal person would be freaking out, right? He’s handling it as well as humanly possible. 

“I wish you two a happy, fruitful marriage,” the king raises his glass with a polite smile that does not reach his eyes. “And for you to grow and learn together to be the best versions of yourselves,” he adds before he takes a sip, the others following the precedent. 

Jimin glances at Jungkook, whose gaze is set on his father, his expression anything like Jimin has ever seen on him: eyes dull and lifeless, lips pressed into a thin line. He looks… Sad. For some reason, it tugs on Jimin’s heart. He kicks Jungkook’s shin to snap him out of whatever trance he’s in, relief flooding his chest when he receives an annoyed frown for it before tJungkook grabs his drink and downs it all at once. 

For a fleeting moment, Jimin entertains the idea that he’s misunderstood Jungkook. He assumed that Jungkook was just a spoiled, selfish brat with no regard to anyone around him. But maybe, just maybe, there’s something deeper underneath. Jimin out of all people should be understanding of someone cursed with daddy issues…

“Are you gonna drink it?” Jungkook puts an end to his train of thought, reaching for Jimin’s glass before the latter has a chance to answer. Jungkook gulps the drink down, only to grimace and spit it back into the flute. “Ew, champagne, really? Gross,” he puts the glass back onto the table, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Jimin sighs, raking his hand over his face. 

Never mind. 

👑

The days counting down to Jungkook’s heat drag by maddeningly slow. Jimin staring at the clock in his room probably doesn’t help, but he’s too on edge to do anything else. He’s already packed the little stuff he has with him and learned the escape plan by heart, all he needs is the green light to go. 

Yet, it doesn’t come. 

Days turn into two weeks and Jimin’s anxiety only grows. He has a bad feeling and he tells exactly that to Jungkook, but the latter rejects the idea immediately. 

His heat is just a little late due to the stress, Jungkook keeps saying. Jimin would be understanding, sympathetic even, if it wasn’t for the time ticking. What guarantees that the king won’t change his mind about waiting until the prince’s heat passes to announce their marriage, if it keeps getting postponed? Or worse, what if the news gets out through other channels, taking away their opportunity to influence the narrative? 

Jimin is freaking out. At first Jungkook tries to reassure him in his own strange way ( ‘Stop being a whiny bitch, everything is fine’ ), but after a while, he simply avoids the alpha. Jimin doesn’t know much about Jungkook, but he’s very familiar with his short fuse by now. 

Still, if Jimin is anything, he's impatient, and more importantly, stubborn as hell. Perhaps, a little reckless too, he thinks, when he goes to Jungkook’s room for the tenth day in a row, asking if he’s experiencing any symptoms and risking getting his head ripped off. 

However, instead of the usual murderous glare, Jungkook’s expression resembles a deer caught in a headlight. 

“Uh… Are you alright?” Jimin asks tentatively, taken aback by the big, terrified eyes blinking at him. 

Jungkook swallows roughly. “Yes,” he mumbles, eyes downcast. “Just tired. I was about to sleep, actually, so–” he cuts the end of the sentence off, closing the door. Sensing that something is off, Jimin holds the door open, observing Jungkook with a mix of confusion and a tiny-teeny bit of worry. Not like Jungkook needs someone like him to be concerned about him, but Jimin can’t help it. 

“What’s wrong?” Jimin queries again, this time with more certainty. Jungkook’s eyes widen, then his brows knit together into an annoyed frown. 

“Nothing, I told you. Just leave me– hey, stop!” 

“I’ll leave once you tell me what’s going on,” Jimin pushes into the room, guiding the huffing omega back inside. “You can’t leave me in the dark like this, I–” Jimin pauses as the other pulls his arm out of his hold with an icy look. Jimin pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. They get nowhere when they fight – well, maybe except the bed. But now is not the time. Something deep in Jimin tells him this is a serious matter and his instincts never lie. Jimin just rarely listens to them. “Look, if you really want me to leave you alone, I will. But if it’s connected to me in any way, you have to tell me, okay? This is my life, too.” 

Jungkook opens his mouth, but no word comes out. Instead, he stares at Jimin, a whirlwind of emotions flashing through his eyes before he tears his gaze away, creating some space between them by walking to the bed and taking a seat. 

Jungkook fiddles with his fingers quietly, the silence growing heavier with every passing second. Jimin crosses his arms over his chest, an uncomfortable force tugging on his chest. 

Jungkook starts with a shallow breath, “Look, before I tell you, I want you to know that I don’t expect anything from you. Not pity, not help, nothing. I’m fine, okay?”

Jimin’s brows shoot up, the alarms going off in his head. Still, he agrees quietly. 

Jungkook shifts on his seat uncomfortably, his usually faint lavender scent growing heavy in the air, cloying the air almost suffocatingly. Jimin’s natural instinct is to release calming pheromones to soothe Jungkook, but he isn’t sure how well the other would take it. Jungkook doesn’t strike him as the type to take unsolicited pheromones well, so instead, he holds himself back, waiting for Jungkook to gather his thoughts. 

Jungkook combs through his disheveled hair as he blows out a shallow breath, his gaze fixed on the ground. 

“I think I’m pregnant.” 

Jimin swears his heart stops beating for a moment. His body is frozen as his mind attempts to digest Jungkook’s statement, forgetting how to breathe even. 

Then it all comes back with full force. 

His heart jumps up to his throat once it kickstarts, blood rushing into Jimin’s head. His breathing quickens, his lungs fighting for air desperately, yet it doesn’t seem enough, as if the room lacks oxygen. 

“A-are you sure?” Jimin musters out. 

“Pretty sure, yeah,” Jungkook replies. “I took a pregnancy test.” 

“No,” he shakes his head, leaning against the door to steady himself. “It can’t be, I was careful, I’m always careful–” the words get stuck in his throat, choking him as he remembers their first encounter. “Fuck, the condom,” he curses under his nose, rubbing his face. “The fucking condom broke.” 

“What?” He hears Jungkook’s voice through the rapid beating of his heart. “What are you talking about?” 

“It was only one time. It can’t–” Jimin mumbles in disbelief, his words muffled from his hands. “What are the chances? What are the fucking chances?” 

“The condom broke and you didn’t tell me?!” The sharp sting of a slap on his arm rips Jimin out of his panicked state, Jimin reacting with a pained hiss, his hand coming down to rub at the assaulted limb. Now, without any barrier in front of his eyes, Jimin has no protection from Jungkook’s piercing gaze. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Jungkook yells, hitting him again, and again, his face growing red with anger. 

“Yah, stop it– ow .” Jimin catches the prince’s wrists, the other struggling in his hold. “I said stop it, come on– Jungkook-ah, please, just listen to me: I told you. I told you right away, before they found us,” he reminds, Jungkook going rigid as the memory dawns on him, eyes wide. 

“Fuck,” Jungkook’s arms go limp in Jimin’s hold, Jimin carefully lowering them. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he repeats, squeezing his eyes shut. Desperate to make the distressed pheromones that permeate the room disappear, Jimin’s wolf claws at his chest, urging him to do something to calm Jungkook. He risks a gentle caress on Jungkook’s wrist with his thumb – a fairly innocent act, but the other rips his arms out of Jimin’s hold as if he was burned. 

Creating some distance between them, Jungkook slumps down on the bed, sitting like a rag doll.

“What am I supposed to do now?” He whispers brokenly, the uncharacteristic vulnerability tugging on Jimin’s heart. 

Jimin swallows around the rocks in his throat, weighing his chances. Jungkook doesn’t want his help, he’s made it clear with both actions and words. So, technically speaking, Jimin can still try to get the hell away from the mess he’s created and start over somewhere far, far away. It’s what he always does, after all, right? 

Yet, this feels different. 

Serious.

Life-altering, even. 

There is no running from it. The consequences, the guilt would haunt him perpetually. 

Jimin doesn’t think he’s a particularly good person, but he won’t stoop to the level of his deadbeat father who left his mom to fend for herself with a baby barely out of the womb. Surely, Jungkook will never have to worry about finances, but no money can make up for the pain of being abandoned by your own parent. 

It’s a strange feeling. 

Yearning for the approval of a stranger. 

Feeling unwanted by a blurry image of a person. 

Jimin wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy, never mind his own pup . 

“Look,” he starts with a big exhale. “I can’t tell you what to do. Whether you keep the pup, get an abortion, disappear for nine months and then secretly give it up for adoption or whatever it is that rich people do, I don’t think it’s my place to choose. The only thing I can offer is that I won’t leave you to deal with this shit on your own. I know you don’t like me, but I want to help.” 

Jungkook glances up, an emotion flashing through his features that Jimin can’t decipher. Jungkook’s Adam’s apple bobs as they stare at each other, the silence stretching unbearably. 

“I mean… If you let me,” Jimin adds awkwardly. 

“What if I want to keep it?” Jungkook mutters, the dim lights glistening in his eyes. 

Jimin nods slowly as the words sink in. “Do you?” 

Jungkook shrugs, gaze flicking down to the ground again. “I’ve been considering my… options,” he proclaims. “And I don’t think I can get rid of it.” 

“Alright,” Jimin chokes out, his fingers just as shaky as his voice as he runs them through his dark hair. “Then… it looks like we’re having a pup,” he chuckles, almost hysterical. “Oh Goddess,” he sinks down into a sitting position on the ground, resting his head in his hands. 

“So… how are we going to break the news to my dad?” Jungkook raises the question, making Jimin groan in despair. 

“Your dad?” Jimin huffs. “He’s the least of our problems. We’ll have to tell it to my mom .”

This is worse than jail. Jimin is about to be castrated.