Chapter Text
Moodboard by: @Jiminszephyr
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September
Let's set the scene.
Early autumn, crisp air, the sun setting.
Seven pm.
A desolate gas station.
Two cars pulling up.
A Range Rover.
A BMW.
Two doors opening.
The tension rises.
“You're late,” Jimin, omega, thirty-four, and a cut-throat narcotics detective, accuses before he has even stepped out of the car.
“I literally saw you pull up a second before me. You're also late,” Jungkook, alpha, also thirty-four, senior manager at a PE firm (as in private equity not physical education), accuses right back.
“I was working,” Jimin says with dry emphasis.
“I was also working,” Jungkook shoots back, matching his tone.
“On what? Going over the papers with your lawyer yet again?” Jimin mocks with a cold laugh.
Another detail that can't be left out: they are in the middle of a divorce.
“Eomma!”
A pup opens the BMW’s door, running out in a pink dress covered in chocolate but a wide grin on her face: Jina, five, a victim of divorce.
“My baby!” Jimin exclaims happily, crouching down to catch his daughter. He lifts her up, ignoring the pain in his lower back, letting her snuggle him for a moment. “How’s my baby, hm?”
“Missed you, eomma,” Jina sniffles, face pressed into Jimin’s neck.
“Hm, I know you did. Missed you too, baby. I aaaalways miss you.”
Jungkook lets out a scoff, watching the exchange with folded arms.
Jimin purses his lips and lets his daughter down again. “Jina, baby, can you get your backpack from daddy’s car?” he says sweetly while throwing daggers at Jungkook with his eyes.
Jina nods eagerly and runs off again, back to Jungkook’s obnoxiously clean BMW.
“You let her wear the damn Rapunzel dress again?!” Jimin exclaims as soon as his daughter is out of ear shot.
“She refused to wear anything else,” Jungkook shoots back. “You know how she gets. It was this or going naked to meet up with Hana.”
“Well, but now it’s covered in chocolate and I’ll have to get it dry cleaned because this thing cannot be washed and she'd be heartbroken if she can't wear it anymore. Will you pay for that?”
“Fine,” the alpha scoffs, “I will pay for the dry cleaning.”
“I’ll have the check delivered to you.”
“Perfect.”
“Hm.”
They stare at each other for a good minute.
“You finished the case?” Jungkook comments, pretending to not actually be interested.
“Sure. I always do. Wasn't a big one anyway.” It kind of was, but Jungkook doesn’t need to know that. Not anymore.
“Right, you do. No matter the cost.”
Jimin rolls his eyes, blowing out a breath. “What about you? How’s the fucking stock market?
“You don’t even care about the stock–”
“Blah, blah, blah,” Jimin cuts in because, yes, he doesn’t care. “I hope you didn’t feed her gluten again.”
“I didn’t. I can actually cook, in case you remember.”
Jimin tips his chin. “All I remember is you feeding her McDonalds last month."
“Goddess forbid I let my daughter enjoy some chicken nuggets once in a while,” Jungkook laughs incredulously, throwing his hands up in defense.
“Will you be at her game in October?”
“I told you that–”
“You really want to disappoint her again?” Jimin threatens. “You didn’t come the last two times.”
Jungkook’s expression hardens. “Let’s not get hypocritical, Jimin-ah. When we were together, it was you who missed her fourth birthday because of some stupid case. It was you who worked undercover and–”
“Spare me with the same accusations you always throw around. I was just wondering if I should mentally prepare to see your face at the game or not.”
“Why? Can’t bear to see me?”
“The alpha I’m divorcing?” Jimin wonders sarcastically. “Oh, excuse me when I don’t feel like seeing you. Meeting once a week at this goddessforsaken gas station is enough, thank you very much.”
“There was a time where you couldn’t get enough of seeing me.”
“I was blind then. You look like shit. Your tie is crooked.”
“And you look–” Jungkook doesn’t finish the sentence, his gaze running up and down Jimin’s body. He’s wearing his usual work attire; tight jeans, dark shirt, a jacket, some sturdy shoes, a gun in his belt, his badge right next to it.
“What?” Jimin demands, his throat dry all of a sudden.
“You look like you had a rough week,” Jungkook finishes, nodding. “Guess you should get some rest. The bags under your eyes are horrendous.”
He never gets meaner than that. Fucking coward. He pretends to be noble and sophisticated, but Jimin has seen the real him—the cold-hearted prick who comes out to play when you least expect it.
Jimin can’t explain the disappointment he feels. It’s stupid. So damn stupid. They’re a done deal. Well, if divorce was that easy. Since March, their lawyers have been sending documents back and forth, not reaching a conclusion yet.
Jimin blames it on Jungkook. Of course the asshole is drawing it out. A last fuck you to Jimin.
(And, yes, perhaps Jimin has adopted the same strategy—why make it easy on Jungkook?)
It must be the memories of the past haunting Jimin that hinder him from taking his eyes off Jungkook.
“How’s your new omega doing?” Jimin asks snarkily before he can stop himself.
“Who?”
“Oh, come on, don’t act stupid now. I saw you with her.”
The alpha’s eyes widen. “Goddess, Jimin, did you keep fucking tabs on me?!” Jungkook looks away, pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. Oh, he’s pissed. And caught red-handed, huh?
“You’re the father of my pup,” Jimin says shamelessly, seeing Jina approach them again in the corner of his eye, “so yes.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Didn’t bother you before.”
“You wanted this,” Jungkook hisses.
“What? And you didn’t?”
Jungkook falls silent. He is exceptionally good at giving Jimin the cold shoulder and just not saying anything. But Jimin leads interrogations on the daily and cracks criminals with more self-control than Jungkook like a walnut.
“So who’s playing hypocrite now?” Jimin says arrogantly, lifting a brow.
Instead of admitting defeat, Jungkook goes, “The bank called.”
Jimin blinks. “Why?”
“The mortgage,” Jungkook says. “We still haven’t decided who’ll keep the house. My lawyer’s been asking.”
“I told you I don’t want it,” Jimin says, his voice getting thinner. He doesn’t want to talk about the damn house. Doesn’t want to invite it to his thoughts.
Thankfully, Jina interrupts them, saving Jimin from the uncomfortable conversation.
“Eommaaaa,” Jina whines, “can you make pancakes tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow is a Monday, baby,” Jimin reminds her, fighting to sound normal. He doesn’t want to let Jina notice that he’s barely holding it together. “You’ll eat breakfast at school.”
Jina groans loudly, slumping together theatrically. “I hate school.”
“Say goodbye to your father,” Jimin presses out. “We have to leave now.”
“Come here, princess,” Jungkook sighs, smiling at their daughter.
The omega watches how his still-husband and mate lifts up their daughter, kissing her cheek and embracing her. “Be good for eomma, hm? And draw me some more pictures of alpacas. I want to hang them up on the fridge.”
“Will you come to my next game, appa?” Jina asks hopefully, pouting.
She got that from Jimin. And although Jungkook might not love Jimin anymore, he still can’t resist the pout. “I’ll make it work,” Jungkook says. “Promise.”
Jimin bites back a snarky comment about Jungkook not being able to keep promises. It’s so easy to hate Jungkook and his empty words, how the hell did Jimin ever feel affection for him?
“Bye, appa,” Jina whispers when Jungkook lets her down again.
“Remember what I told you, yeah? No shenanigans.”
Jimin rolls his eyes at the exaggerated concern. “Let’s go, Jina.”
Jungkook lingers behind as the two of them walk back to Jimin’s Range Rover. He watches them—his eyes burning into Jimin’s back while the omega fastens Jina’s seatbelt.
As Jimin heads for the driver’s seat, sliding inside, he doesn’t forget to flip Jungkook off. A sweet little parting gift.
Jungkook’s lips quirk up as he returns the gesture.
Jimin makes sure he drives through the puddle next to Jungkook, dirty drops of rainwater from last night landing all over the alpha’s pristine navy blue two-piece suit.
While Jungkook yells a beautiful insult after Jimin, the omega drives off with a big, fat grin.
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Nine years ago, Jimin didn’t think he’d ever fall in love.
Eight years ago, Jimin didn’t think he’d ever get married.
Six years ago, Jimin didn’t think he’d ever have a pup.
Three years ago, Jimin didn’t think he’d ever fall out of love.
But things change, right?
It mostly feels like change happens in the blink of an eye. Like one day you suddenly feel enlightened, ready to completely uproot your life.
To Jimin, it felt like that when the words were first uttered.
Then fucking divorce me.
Well, bet.
How did they get here? How did it all fall apart?
Whose fault is it that everything they built together broke apart?
Others in his position might have tried to get to the bottom of it, but Jimin doesn’t care. Why ruminate over something that has no chance at survival? Or revival, that is.
All Jimin knows is that he has taken a knife to his heart and carved out the areas calcified by love.
There’s only one thing left until this chapter—after nine years—can finally be put to an end and closed.
Divorce.
But getting divorced proves to be harder than Jimin expected. The finish line isn’t even in sight yet.
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Jina spends all morning drawing alpacas for Jungkook instead of eating the pancakes Jimin makes because she vehemently insisted. A year ago, Jimin would have found it adorable and he would have sent Jungkook pictures of it and they would have framed them or would have kept them in a box with the rest of her drawings. But nowadays he just feels bitter about it. Still, he helps her put them in a clear sheet so they won’t be damaged and promises to remind her next Sunday to give them to appa.
He doesn’t tell Jina about the way his heart clenches—he’s not going to become that type of parent who tries to make their pup side with them at all cost. Jungkook and he like to bitch around but there is one unspoken rule between them: don’t get Jina involved.
Neither he or Jungkook are children of divorce, but it feels like common sense to not project his resentment for Jungkook onto Jina. She shouldn’t grow up feeling like she isn’t allowed to love one of her parents or talk about them in the presence of the other. That wouldn’t be fair, right? After all, it’s not her who fucked up, it’s Jungkook and Jimin. (But primarily Jungkook, if you were to ask Jimin.)
During the car ride to Jina’s school, Jimin ignores the calls lighting up his phone.
It’s Yoongi, so it can’t be important anyway.
Years ago Jimin was thrilled over work calls, telling him to slip into a new persona, to show up in the middle of the night, to do what he does best.
But as he grew older and his private life became more serious, work wasn’t allowed to be as thrilling anymore. Jimin had responsibility—self-chosen but it was there.
During mundane moments like this, Jimin wonders if things would have been different if he hadn’t taken that one job nine years ago.
When Jina is with him—which she is weekly, sometimes more, sometimes less, depending on their schedules—Jimin feels better and less inclined to ruminate. She heals something in him, and always has. If there’s one thing he doesn’t regret, it’s her.
Although, admittedly, she looks like Jungkook’s carbon copy, which inevitably reminds Jimin of the alpha.
She has his hair color—a dark and rich brown, that shines beautifully when the sun hits it. And she has his big, doe-like eyes that sometimes make Jimin cry. They match the shade of her hair perfectly. It kind of kills Jimin. Even the shape of her face is Jungkook’s. Their baby pictures are nearly identical if it wasn’t for her lips—she got those from Jimin. The nose? Neither of them knew where that came from.
Jimin’s mother insists it’s from great aunt Haneul, while Jungkook’s mother claims she got it from Jungkook's grandmother. During one Chuseok, when Jina was two, a huge fight broke out over this. Since then, their mothers have been on thin ice with one another (which is code for they outright hate each other). Not that they were ever on great terms to begin with, though.
“Eomma,” Jina calls out from the backseat, ripping Jimin from his thoughts, “Yoongi samcheon is calling you!”
Since starting elementary school recently, Jina picked up reading incredibly fast. They started teaching her a little before school too, but now that she is learning daily, Jina is quickly advancing.
Jungkook is convinced she’ll become an author, so he bought her all kinds of age-appropriate books which he reads with her. Jimin does his best to do the same, to support her interests and help her improve, but Jina prefers it if Jungkook does it.
“I’m ignoring him,” Jimin tells her, smiling over his shoulder for a brief second.
She finds that funny. “Why?”
“Ah, he’s been an asshole.”
“You told me I can’t say that!”
“But I can.”
Now she’s pouting. Jimin can see it in the rearview mirror. It makes him smile. “Sorry, baby,” he says apologetically, “you are right; it’s an insult.”
“Coach Lee always yells it at the other team during a game.”
Jimin lifts his brows. “Well… uhm, he shouldn’t.”
“Oh, eomma, I forgot to tell you,” Jina says excitedly, “he told me to greet you!”
Jimin forces out, “Really now?”
“Appa came to practice with me last week!” she says, only remembering now apparently. “And Coach said he missed seeing your face at games.”
Jimin grips the steering wheel a little harder. “In front of your father?”
“Yeah!”
It’s interesting to feel a simultaneous spurt of satisfaction and nausea over knowing Jina’s soccer coach, who’s always had a thing for Jimin since they signed her up for the team almost two years ago, talked about him like this in front of the alpha.
See, Jungkook? a part of Jimin whispers. I can do you one better.
Yoongi’s name pops up once again on Jimin’s screen. He declines it the fourth time, but now there’s a fat grin on his face, imagining Jungkook’s disdain over having Coach Lee obviously express his interest.
Does he know they split up? Well, he must. Jimin doesn’t carry Jungkook’s scent anymore, nor does Jungkook wear a ring. They don’t show up together, except for Jina’s games where they stay ten feet apart from each other at all times, providing Jungkook shows up.
He usually does, especially when the game falls into a week where Jina is staying with him, but he definitely has missed a few since they broke up, just to ignore Jimin.
Maybe Jimin will put on a little show at the next game, which is coming up in early October. Just to piss Jungkook off, because he always hated Jina’s coach for not hiding his crush on Jimin.
Jungkook wasn’t possessive, but Jimin belonged to him (well, once upon a time) and he never made that a secret.
Does the omega think it will work?
Probably not. Jungkook hates Jimin’s guts these days. It’s mutual, though, which makes it kind of thrilling.
And it’s not like Jimin is hung up on Jungkook. It’s been seven months since they split. He has moved on.
But does he hold a grudge?
You can be sure he fucking does
Does he think—despite having no hard proof for this—that Jungkook is still hung up on him?
You can be sure he fucking does.
Jimin fixes his hair in the rearview mirror and applies lipbalm, smacking his lips together. Delusion is through the roof today, but, frankly, how could one not be hung up on a face like this?
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Yoongi doesn’t even work in Jimin’s division, but the alpha is leaning against his desk anyway when Jimin walks into the precinct, twenty minutes late and a coffee in his hand. (Yes, he was late because the coffee at the office is a straight up assassination attempt every time Jimin drinks it.)
“Get the fuck off my desk,” he orders, jerking his head, coming to a stop a few feet away, his free hand on his hip. Behind Yoongi, he can spot thick files on his desk, probably reports he has to check for his current case.
“Aren’t you in a good mood today? Elsa will nag you for being late,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, pushing himself off the edge. “Care to share?”
Jimin hands him the coffee. “Sure.” He throws a quick glance at his captain’s office—aka Elsa, the ice queen—now actually worried he’ll get scolded. Jimin is very glad Jina never had a Frozen phase.
“You know,” Yoongi begins, shooting down the rest of Jimin’s half-cold coffee, “I spent the last week watching your husband–”
“Ex-husband,” Jimin cuts in, his brow arched. “How many times do I have to tell you this, Yoongi?”
“Have you guys signed the freaking papers yet?”
The Papers—capital P!—is a term that has been part of Jimin’s daily vocabulary for months now. Funny how in the span of seven months his marriage has been reduced to Papers. To ink printed onto a flattened tree.
“No,” Jimin scoffs loudly. “His lawyer is revising them, drafting new ones. And then my lawyer does the same and they do some sort of negotiation and– I don’t know, my lawyer is handling all of that. It gives me a migraine.”
Yoongi lifts his brows. “Anyway,” he continues, “I’m getting bored of following him.”
“You owe me.”
“And I think I paid my debts for around five months already.”
“The deal was that you’d follow him until the divorce has gone through,” Jimin reminds Yoongi, opening his drawer to find his emergency pack of gum. When he can't find it, he slams the drawer shut, exclaiming, “Kangwoo, I told you what would happen if you touch my shit again!”
Kangwoo, sitting by the window, snickers behind his desk, knowing very well what he did. Jimin sends him a death glare before turning back to Yoongi.
The alpha groans. “You do know I have other cases, right? Your messy divorce is at the bottom of my priorities.”
“Who saved your ass three years ago during that one Kim bust? Who had their CI’s get you the intel you needed to crack that one corruption case? And who–”
To Jimin’s luck, Yoongi hates being reminded of open debts. “Fine, I’ll continue stalking your husband and watch him do the same thing every fucking day. I don’t need sleep anyway.”
“Ex-husband,” Jimin quips on instinct. “Also, try waking every two hours to feed a newborn. Then you’ll know what sleep deprivation feels like.”
Yoongi rolls his eyes. “Ex,” he repeats after Jimin. “But, seriously, how come the guy always does the same thing?”
“He’s a psychopath.”
One of Jimin’s colleagues passes by, clapping his shoulder. “Just your type, hm?” Sangho asks with a grin.
“Don’t try me today,” Jimin says with a strained smile, making Sangho back off again with a death glare. Yoongi also receives a fake grin. “We’re done here, right? I’ve got to work.” He shoos him off. “Now do me a favor and remove yourself from my vicinity. I’m doing an alpha detox.”
Yoongi flips him off. “Let me know if you wanna get drunk next weekend. You look like you need to drown your misery in Tequila shots.”
Jimin pretends to not be in the mood. “I’ve got something going on.”
“Like what?” Yoongi scoffs, not buying Jimin’s bullshit.
“Like being a parent? Working?” Jimin cocks his head to the side, continuing mockingly, “I know you can’t relate to having a life.”
Unfortunately, the times where Jimin could flex with having a successful private life are over.
No more spontaneous romantic get-aways to a cabin on a beautiful coast.
No more spa days.
No more gifts waiting for him at home.
No more playing eye candy during parties.
But let’s be real: all of that had been over long before the divorce ever came into the picture anyway. So it’s not much of a change.
Yoongi’s lips quirk up. “I’ll see you Friday, Jimin. I’ll make a reservation.”
Jimin lets out an offended sound, but Yoongi is already sauntering off, hands stuffed nonchalantly into his cargo pants. “Asshole,” Jimin breathes, turning around.
The reason for Yoongi’s pestering calls and his unwanted appearance at Jimin’s station are hidden underneath the many files; a new USB stick and an envelope. Jimin hides them under his jacket, scanning the room to see if anyone’s looking at him.
When he’s sure he can sneak off for a moment, he heads to the bathroom.
The envelope is an appetizer; every week Yoongi prints a few pictures for Jimin.
This time, it’s Jungkook and a certain blonde-haired bitch sitting across from each other at a round table in some cute, small café, which is the one Jungkook used to order cakes from for Jimin’s birthdays. Jimin knows it. He’s had their cheesecake a million times, so seeing Jungkook take someone else sends a stab to his chest.
It’s stupid.
Jungkook is stupid.
He didn’t even take a year to move on from them. Hell, they’re still mated. The scar on Jimin’s neck feels raw—like it’s not seven years old, but fresh. As if the physical and emotional distance tore open the wound internally.
Maybe it did.
The first time the blonde omega appeared on the weekly pictures, Jimin thought nothing of it. He knows her. She works with Jungkook. She attended one of their Christmas parties like… three years ago? But now that Jungkook’s on the market again, it didn’t even take a year for her to seize her chance? She couldn’t even wait until Jungkook was legally single again?
Honestly, Jimin can’t blame Nara. Jungkook is rich, successful, good looking and he’s not even that much of an asshole if he likes you. On top of all those annoying qualities, being a single dad as an alpha basically makes him look dependable, responsible, and like a fucking saint.
Being a working omega single parent, however? Jimin’s screwed. Socially, that is. He’s at the bottom of the barrel now. He supposes he should be glad the weirdos with MILF fetishes are still into him while the rest of society views him as used goods.
Goddess, he’s about to become one of these bitter and scorned omegas who, even years after a divorce, still act miserable.
Grinding his molars together, Jimin inserts the flash drive into his phone, swiping through the hundreds of pictures Yoongi took over the course of the week.
The detective’s thorough, documenting all of Jungkook’s life (except for where he works and shits, you know). Somehow that makes it worse, being so up-to-date. Like Jimin is still part of the daily routine. Although it was boring, because all he did was watch the freaking stock market like a creep, Jimin is curious and nosy by nature; being privy to every tiny piece of information concerning Jungkook even during the divorce process feels obligatory.
Staring at these pictures, Jimin always feels like he’s waiting for something big and grandiose. He can’t pinpoint what (maybe because he’s emotionally stumped), but he stares at them, analyzing them for something that might not be there.
After a while, the good ol’ shame and incredulity returns. He begins to feel crazy. Goddess, when will this be over? When will he be free?
Who ever said MILF stands for Mother I’d Like To Fuck was wrong; it stands for Man, I Love Freedom.
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Unfortunately for Jungkook, Jimin’s pettiness reaches astronomical levels later that day after taking a few more peaks at the pictures of Jungkook and his blonde coworker.
The first time she showed up in the weekly reports Jimin didn’t want to think anything of it. The breakup hadn’t been that fresh—it had been June by then; they broke up in February—but Jimin inherited a supernatural gift for perception from his mother and he could feel something was off.
Of course he never got a confirmation (Yoongi has yet to catch them making out or fucking on his photographs, and Jungkook refuses to really answer Jimin’s subtle jabs), but there was an emotional component already. A closeness that made Jimin sick to his stomach. He isn’t just imagining that, is he?
Jimin refuses to talk to anyone about his breakup. He doesn’t want to be labeled as the crazy ex, so he has to keep his monitoring of Jungkook’s movements private.
Jungkook should suffer alone. He shouldn’t feel even a modicum of happiness.
After Jimin suffered alone for a whole year before the breakup, he thinks the alpha should experience the same. He obviously hasn’t suffered enough yet.
Jimin has to blow off some steam. He usually does that at the shooting range, but today he adds a special component by modifying the target to his liking and to assure maximum satisfaction.
He abused the printer at the station earlier, earning him side-eyes from the team, and now he glues a printout of Jungkook’s face onto the already existing paper target. It's a headshot from a professional photoshoot last year where he’s all stone-faced and his hair is to die for with that one strand falling out and jaw so perfectly shaped– Jimin can’t wait to fucking shoot him.
“What on the Goddess’ name...” an alpha in the lane next to him murmurs upon seeing Jimin enthusiastically smear glue all over the thing.
“Something funny?” Jimin wonders with a sweet smile.
“That some chaebol who escaped prosecution or what?”
“No, just my soon to be ex-husband.”
“Oh.” The alpha nods in understanding, not questioning it further.
“Homicide?” Jimin wonders, jerking his head at the alpha’s badge on the counter.
“Yeah.”
“Narcotics.”
“Well, fuck him up, narcotics,” the alpha chuckles, shaking his head at Jimin.
“Watch me,” Jimin smirks, sending the paper target back, Jungkook’s face now attached to it.
Jimin puts his earmuffs on before reaching for his gun. He’s always been a damn good shot (and a damn good catch too; pun intended), but today his motivation is through the roof. There’s no hesitation when he fires the first shot, one eye squinted. No hesitation for the rest of the bullets in the round too.
“Fucking hell,” homicide says with an impressed chuckle as Jimin pulls his earmuffs off, waiting for the paper target to fly back to him.
The left corner of Jimin’s mouth slips up when he inspects his results. All bullets were a perfect headshot. Jungkook has no forehead anymore.
Jimin takes a snapshot of it, promptly sending Jungkook the picture without any context.
Thank the Goddess, because Jimin apparently managed to capture one of the rare moments where Jungkook is on his phone and immediately replies back.
(Or maybe he still has a different notification sound for when Jimin texts him…)
Voldemort
I don’t think I was meant to see this
Nope, it went to the right person <3
Love the homicidal energy. I’ll send this to my lawyer. Thanks for the court material.
Great, you go do that! And you’re very welcome!
“Little bitch,” Jimin hisses under his breath. He pockets his phone again, sending the paper target back immediately. He prepares his gun again, changing the round.
By the end of the session nothing is left of Jungkook’s picture.
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March
Jimin wouldn’t call himself vengeful. More like… he could hold a grudge.
And how did the saying go again? Hell hath no fury like an omega scorned. Thank you, William Congreve.
Jimin’s first boyfriend hadn’t been much of a heartbreak. Nor his second. But Jungkook was different. An exception. Which was insane to say because how could a finance bro reach that level of being exceptional?
After nine years of being together, building a life, a whole ass three-story house with a large garden; a pool, two garages and a freaking built-in sauna, having a pup… one would expect that Jimin felt a little scorned once their relationship broke apart, right?
Paired with Jimin’s remarkable determination to not waste time, he managed to remind the alpha of that too.
Merely a few days after they decided to split, the month changed to March and Jimin put on his best pants (the ones Jungkook always salivated over), his favorite leather jacket that perfectly showed the gun sitting on his hip, and a tight black shirt, revealing his well-shaped collarbones and his vacant neck. He took off his wedding ring, which he always wore on a necklace and not on his finger—ready to ship it back to Jungkook in a box with a dead rat inside that he caught in the garden just yesterday.
Breaking up with your mate of nearly a decade meant several things. One, Jimin and Jungkook had shared Google calendars, which was mostly used for Jungkook’s appointments and Jina’s. Jimin wasn’t really the type to keep track of his own stuff, but he had full access to Jungkook’s, so he knew where Jungkook would be—especially since Jungkook was obsessed with writing down everything down to the minute. Two, Jimin was a known face at Jungkook’s firm. After all, he and Jungkook were one of the only long-lasting marriages at the firm (and perhaps in the entire finance branch itself); a sort of prime example of a healthy and successful relationship. Little did they know they’d end up just like all of Jungkook’s other colleagues (well, and Jimin’s too, ‘cause let’s be real, when have cops ever been good at love?): getting a divorce.
Accordingly, Jimin’s plan consisted of looking like a full course meal as he busted Jungkook’s office building, flashing his badge and a paper with WARRANT printed onto it left and right at the entrance to be let inside. It wasn’t a real warrant, but the idiots downstairs at the reception didn’t realize that when Jimin spew a lie about needing to make an arrest now or else he’d have the whole fucking company turned upside down within the hour.
If the omega knew anything, then it was how to sell something.
Then again, he would have been let inside even if he wasn’t wildly gesticulating around, because he was (for now) one of the senior manager’s mates. But where would have been the fun in a quiet arrival?
He was carrying an envelope with him, not too thin but also not too thick. His Chelsea boots clicked on the marble floor, announcing his presence before he pushed the glass doors open, interrupting a meeting with around ten people, all of them in business attire.
Jungkook was sitting at the front of the long table, a PowerPoint presentation projected onto the wall behind him. “J-Jimin?”
“Detective Park,” Jimin said coldly, holding up his badge. “I need to speak to Jeon Jungkook.”
Jungkook was no noname employee—he was, as already stated, a freaking senior manager of a prestigious private equity firm, and most of the colleagues in this room had been inside their freaking house. Goddess, Jimin really regretted throwing those Christmas parties, inviting Goddess knows who, but seeing all their faces flash with recognition filled him with indescribable glee.
But Jungkook’s flabbergasted expression singlehandedly made all the hassle Jimin went through in the span of a week worth it.
Six days, to be precise.
Then fucking divorce me, Jungkook had thrown at his head, crossing a line which none of them had before.
Well, Jimin will do him the favor. No biggie.
“Yeobeo,” Jimin stated sweetly, using a name he never really did before, sauntering through the office in his skin-tight pants, swaying his hips, ”I’ve got something for you. Wanted to deliver it in person.”
“Jimin, what is–”
“Divorce papers.”
He could witness Jungkook’s eyes going up and down his body—he really could never resist those pants—and then widening comically upon those two heinous words.
The whole room gasped in unison; a beautiful sound. Jimin was sure everyone at the company and their mother would know by the end of the day about the scene he caused. Good, that’s what he intended.
“What?!” Jungkook croaked out, choking on his own saliva. His face was going red.
His tie looked a little loose, so Jimin did him the favor of leaning over, dropping the papers in his lap, grabbing his tie in the process. “Fuck around and find out,” he whispered into Jungkook’s ear, tugging on the tie, causing Jungkook to cough up. “Fixed it,” he said louder for everyone to hear. “See you at court, baby.”
And with that, Jimin strutted back to the door, where he halted for a second, adding, “Ah, also, I’m moving out.”
Now he was alpha-less, homeless but had gained infinite aura.
✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«
September
During the week he spends with Jina, time goes by in the blink of an eye. Since he and Jungkook came up with this weekly switching system, a routine naturally fell in place for when Jina was with Jimin. The omega doesn’t inquire—due to a lack of interest and because he already knows from Yoongi’s observation pictures—what Jungkook’s routine with Jina looks like.
Jimin thinks his is better. Because he actually makes sure Jina has a social life too. Then again, no pitting him and Jungkook against each other. This is all kept far away from the pup, limited to Jimin’s mind.
As September comes to an end and autumn claims the city for itself, Jimin and Jina spend the week getting ready for the season. They buy decor and pumpkins and watch a Halloween movie together on Friday, Jimin allowing Jina to stay up past her bedtime.
Saturday is spent on a grocery run and a walk through the park, collecting fresh chestnuts and leaves in all types of colors (and Jimin dodging his mother’s calls).
Sunday starts off with a nice breakfast, Jina for once drawing a picture for Jimin (a cat, which Jimin promptly adds to the fridge with a magnet), Jimin giving her a bath—before work calls and Jimin’s day is ruined.
He was supposed to meet with Jungkook for the switch off at 6pm, but he has to oversee an interrogation.
So he has to call. He hates calling Jungkook. But the fucker never replies to texts quickly, so Jimin has no choice.
Voldemort appears on his screen as Jimin waits for the alpha to pick up.
“Yes?”
Every time he hears Jungkook’s voice it gives him whiplash. It’s on his list for things Jimin wishes to end once and for all with the divorce. He has to stop reacting.
Jimin cuts straight to the chase, no smalltalk, no niceties. “I’ve got a work emergency, can you take Jina earlier?”
A moment of silence. He likes to make Jimin wait.
“Yes or no?” Jimin prods.
“Sure, drop off at 3pm, usual place?”
“Yeah, works for me,” Jimin agrees, relieved it could work out.
“See you then.”
Jimin doesn’t return the words. He hangs up wordlessly, letting out a heavy sigh because he doesn’t want to say goodbye to Jina for yet another job.
His daughter is already packing her belongings that always travel from Jimin’s place to Jungkook’s place and so forth and so on, stuffing them in her Go Pack backpack, humming along to the music playing in the background. After the bath, Jimin braided her hair. The braid falls down her back, a little messy already from playing around earlier. But her hair is really getting long (she got that from Jimin), maybe they should cut it before the holiday?
Chuseok will be here soon and, well, Jimin is working. So he and Jungkook already formed an agreement. Jina will be with Jimin’s former in-laws, eating Jungkook’s mother’s brilliant food. It was the only redeeming quality Jungkook’s mother had to offer.
And Jimin? His mother has been trying to call, probably wanting to know if he and Jina will visit, but Jimin hasn’t had the courage to tell her the truth yet. Next, his father will call and he rarely ever calls, so Jimin won’t be able to decline that one. But he has a few days before that will happen.
He rests his face in the palm of his hand, his chest tight while watching Jina peacefully pack.
When will it ever get easier?
✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«
Despite being at work, Jimin doesn’t miss his semi-weekly call with Taehyung, the second victim of his impending divorce to Jungkook.
“Jina wants to go as a pumpkin for Halloween,” Jimin sighs into the phone while watching Changhyuk interrogate a low level drug mule through the glass. This interrogation isn’t going anywhere, so Jimin figured taking a call would be more efficient. He basically came here for nothing because his colleagues had it handled, but staying here is better than going back to an empty apartment.
Taehyung snorts on the other line. “I mean, she is a little pumpkin.”
“I was thinking of just painting her orange,” Jimin says. “Maybe adding some other design. And maybe getting a pumpkin costume.”
“Real question is—what will you be wearing?”
“Voldemort is doing Halloween alone,” Jimin says curtly. “I’m working. We have a pretty big case here. I could be asked to do some undercover work soon.”
“Undercover? Seriously?”
Jimin plays off the way the comment makes his jaw clench. “Yeah, well, why not? With our system, I always have a full week where I’m not needed, you know.”
“So you want to use those and do what?”
“Do quick undercover stuff?” Jimin says with a dry laugh, as he watches Changhyuk grab the suspect by his collar, lifting him out of the chair. With a frown, the omega knocks against the window, muttering, “Alpha idiot, why is he doing that–”
“Jimin,” Taehyung starts, “maybe you should be there on Halloween–”
“Voldemort will probably bring his new omega so no thank you.”
“His new what?!”
Jimin rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to pretend around me, Tae. I’ve known about her for some time. Nara. She’s pretty. I mean, Jungkook probably told you. I mean, he tells you everything.”
“Jimin, I swear to the Goddess, I’ve got no clue what you’re talking about. He’s been pretty distant, you know. Dodging my calls and everything. We don’t see each other that often, given that I'm pretty busy as well with the new project at work.”
“Good, he’s probably feeling shame over it,” Jimin spits.
“So he’s got a new omega is what you’re saying? Are you sure? He’s not the type to just jump into a new relationship.”
Taehyung doesn’t know Jimin ‘hired’ Yoongi to do the dirty work for him, so he just says, “He didn’t deny it when I insinuated it in front of him during a drop off.”
“Okay, well… I mean, it’s been almost eight months?” Taehyung murmurs thoughtfully. “But I seriously don’t think he has someone new.”
“Yeah whatever, it’s probably the excel midlife crisis,” Jimin says, trying to sound like he doesn’t care. “Yeah, so I think I should agree to the various advances I rejected over the last fucking decade.”
Taehyung’s voice is shrill when he exclaims, “You’re not considering going out with that prosecutor are you–”
“Nah,” Jimin denies, “not him.”
Jungkook hated that alpha with all of his being. He’d fuck over Jimin’s cases, nitpicking everything, find excuses to show up just so he could talk to Jimin, and although Jimin was obviously married and mated, the alpha apparently still saw it as an invitation.
Jimin could always handle himself. As an omega in law enforcement—especially in a position like his—Jimin had become creative over the years, fending off alpha assholes.
But during the time he worked with them, Jungkook would scent him excessively, making sure everyone could tell Jimin was happily claimed. And Jimin also didn’t fail to boast about how proud he was of his alpha for his promotion, for his frequent work successes, and for the beautiful pup they had together—the beautiful life they had together.
“I might just let Coach Lee think he can take me out,” Jimin says nonchalantly, checking his fingernails. “I’m seeing him at Jina’s game soon.”
Changhyuk’s screaming bleeds through the walls, demanding answers from the alpha across from him, but it doesn’t bother Jimin. Changhyuk won’t get anywhere with this behavior, so Jimin will intervene shortly.
“Oh Goddess,” Taehyung groans, “you don’t seriously find him attractive, do you?”
“Maybe I could if my eyesight gets worse. He’s young–”
“Yeah, like seven years younger than you?”
“So? I’m a MILF.”
“Yes, you are a MILF. That’s exactly why he wants to fuck you, Jimin.”
“Great. Haven’t had alpha dick in almost a year. I’m going blind in my right eye.”
“I don’t approve, but you’re an adult. You know what you’re doing.” He sighs softly. “Well, and some spiraling is good for you. You haven’t had a real breakdown over all this yet. I’m still waiting.”
“And why would I? It’s been eight months as you said. I’m over it. I was over it before it was even over, okay? I can’t wait for the divorce to go through and to be free.”
Taehyung is silent for a moment.
“What?” Jimin demands, laughing dryly to cover up the awkward silence.
“Nothing, nothing,” Taehyung dismisses. “You already know my opinion on this.”
Right, Taehyung thinks he and Jungkook are making a big mistake and are being mutually idiotic. He’s tried to talk sense into each of them, but not everyone can be as forgiving as Taehyung. Jimin doesn’t have it in him.
Jimin wishes he did, though. If he was less of a grudge-holder, would he feel lighter? Like chains removed from his very being?
It’s useful for his job that Jimin remembers things. The details. The devil truly is in them. They make a difference in most cases. For his private life, however, it can be very exhausting to forgive but not forget. When he was younger he couldn’t forgive either and he would burn bridges, feel betrayed over dumb things, make himself a difficult person to deal with.
He’s a lot calmer now. A lot better at relationships. Or so he thought.
Since the breakup, he has regressed. He doesn’t particularly like the version of himself he is right now. He blames Jungkook for the majority of it, but a lot is his own doing too. It’s undeniable.
“I’m trying,” he says to Taehyung, knowing the omega is perhaps the only one that deserves every tiny piece of grace Jimin can muster.
“I know,” Taehyung mumbles, ever the understanding friend. “You will come to my birthday party though, right? If you’re not doing Halloween with us, then I’m insisting you’ll be here for my party.”
“Yes, of course,” Jimin promises. “I will be there.”
“And you and Jungkook won’t throw cake at each other, okay?” Taehyung inquires, referring to Taehyung’s summer party back in July, which escalated just a teeny tiny bit.
“Okay, it was one tiny piece because he was being an asshole–”
“Do you promise?”
“Yes,” Jimin breathes, “yes, Tae, I’ll behave. I can’t speak for him and his poor manners, but… I’m sure he’s going to try his best.”
“You do know his manners are better than yours?”
“Hearsay,” Jimin gasps.
Taehyung stifles a laugh. “You know I’m right.”
“This is bordering on defamation,” Jimin scoffs. “I’m filing a report.”
“Amazing, I’m just going to ask Seokjin to represent me.”
“You do know he’s a divorce lawyer?"
“He’s studied the law, hasn’t he? I’m sure that’ll be enough."
Jimin doubts that, but Taehyung works in marketing; he’s got nothing to do with the law. He did recommend Seokjin, his lawyer, to Jimin, however. It happened years before the divorce even came into the picture when Taehyung jokingly handed Jimin the lawyer’s card for when “Jungkook’s trading obsession becomes too much”.
Of course it had merely been a joke; Taehyung is not on board with the divorce in the slightest. But the lawyer is one of Taehyung’s acquaintances from Goddess’ knows where. Jimin gave up on asking and trying to understand how Taehyung knows all these people. It just comes in handy when Jimin needs someone who doesn’t work in law enforcement.
“Yes, you are right,” Jimin says ebulliently, “Seokjin-ssi will bail you out.”
“He liked me the one time we met. I bet he would.”
“100%.”
“By the way,” Taehyung says, changing the topic, “I’m gonna do karaoke for my birthday.”
That awakens many memories. Jimin only manages an empty, “Oh.”
“It’ll be great!”
“Yes!” Jimin croaks out. “So great!” Thankfully, Changhyuk storms out of the interrogation just as Taehyung begins another sentence, giving Jimin an opportunity to cut their conversation short.
The alpha enters the observation room, instantly complaining to Jimin. “That ugly, little weasel–”
“Listen, Taehyung,” Jimin says into his phone, “I gotta take over an interrogation here. These imbeciles are helpless without me.”
“Go crack ‘em,” Taehyung says. “Call me later? I’m going to rummage through the internet to find a good costume for Jina.”
“Yes, sure, I’ll call you!” Jimin hangs up quickly, putting his phone down. He sighs at Changhyuk.
“What?” the alpha demands.
“Next time, maybe less screaming in there,” Jimin advises.
“Go in there. He’ll drive you nuts too.”
Jimin smiles devilishly. “Bet.”
Twenty minutes later, their witness cracks and Changhyuk calls Jimin an evil witch.
✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«
February
Kim Seokjin smiled at Jimin when he said he needed divorce papers in the span of a week, preferably less.
If Jimin had to, he would have described the smile as vicious, slightly mischievous, and charming. He’d been used to working with prosecutors, high profile cases and suspects, so an alpha in a tailored suit didn’t intimidate him, but Jimin was sure Seokjin had that effect on others.
Jimin was here upon Taehyung’s recommendation—the omega just didn’t know it. About anything, that is. No one knew Jimin was here.
“Jimin-ssi,” Seokjin mused in a silver voice, fixing his rimmed glasses, “this will be fun.”
“Fun?” Jimin echoed.
“Tell me everything about your soon to be ex-mate,” Seokjin continued, his eyes growing wider, something akin to bloodlust in them. “Every dirty secret.”
Jimin blinked. Somehow, he thought he’d just… receive the papers and fill something out maybe. A bit naive, which wasn’t his style, so he did what Seokjin asked him to. Well, partially
“He’s obsessed with these autobiography books,” Jimin breathed. “Like, the dryer the better. And, sometimes, he cries while watching back videos of Jina, our daughter. Ugly crying, I’m telling you.”
Seokjin’s brows lifted. “Jimin-ssi–”
“Oh, wait, I know a better one!” Jimin exclaimed, feeling like he struck gold. “When he was six, he accidentally killed his goldfish ‘cause he fed it to a bird!”
“Oh, what an awful human,” Seokjin had commented languidly, looking down at his papers.
“He never told anyone but me.”
“Do you have something less… touching?”
Jimin scowled. “What do you mean?”
“Like embezzlement? Bad behavior? Reasons why you should get the shared house and half of his assets in a divorce? Why you should get full custody of your pup?”
That knocked the air right out of Jimin’s lungs. “I…”
“I can build a case against him, you just need to get me something to work with, Jimin-ssi,” Seokjin offered. “Omegas have an advantage when it comes to custody. The assets, however… Well, we need to make sure not to paint you as a gold digger since you earn considerably less.”
Jimin felt his heart go cold. “Hold on.”
“This will surely take a while. I’m sure by the time you hand him the papers, he’ll lawyer up too. And he’s got the money and connections, no?”
Well, sure. Jungkook worked in finance. He was connected everywhere. Jimin was too, if you count having informants inside of the mafia.
Somehow, filing for divorce felt worse than getting stabbed in the side. And that had Jimin knocked out for a good two weeks. Over Christmas too. Jungkook had been out of his mind. Jimin’s mother too, because what do you mean they had to celebrate in the hospital?
His throat felt dry, sitting in Seokjin’s modern office, the scent of bergamot heavy in his nose. “Uhm,” Jimin had started, fishing for words. “I– This is a lot.”
Seokjin patted his hand compassionately. “Don’t worry, Jimin-ssi, I will get you full custody.”
All Jimin could think of at that moment was Jungkook being a great dad to Jina and Jimin not actually wanting to take her away from him.
This was going wrong in every way that counted, but this is what Jungkook wanted, isn’t it?
Divorce.
Undoing their mating bond.
Right?
Then fucking divorce me.
The alpha wasn’t the type to say things he didn’t mean. And Jimin wasn’t the type to hold people prisoner against their will.
“I don’t need full custody,” Jimin said, “I just… I want this to go quickly. I don’t want the house. I want–”
What did he want? Out of all the things he and Jungkook built and bought, what did Jimin want?
“We can go through everything one by one,” Seokjin offered. “Do you think he will put up a fight?”
Jimin thought about it. He knew Jungkook, knew him in and out. But over the last year, a rift had come between them and now Jimin wasn’t so sure anymore. Things he had never thought would ever happen happened. Nothing was the same.
Neither was Jungkook.
“I bet,” Jimin predicted.
✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«
October
One location where Jimin and Jungkook always inevitably reunite are Jina’s soccer games. Sure, work sometimes hinders them from both showing up, but they typically try to make it. Except that Jungkook bailed on the last two games. Jimin won’t say he’s a bad father (because, fuck, he’s really not), but he is clearly trying to avoid Jimin. Understandable. Jimin also wants to avoid him, but he can swallow his ego even if others might claim otherwise. Jimin is often a victim of defamation.
When Jina was younger, the two of them decided she should have one physical hobby growing up, something where she can make social connections, form friendships, and all that gist. Of course, they would never force her to do something she doesn’t like, but Jina takes after Jimin and loves being active.
To Jimin’s misery, she has also shown an affinity for numbers, which means she could one day follow in Jungkook’s utterly boring (albeit lucrative) footsteps. At least that would be safer than becoming a cop.
Even when she was tiny and could barely walk she was adventurous, climbing the jungle gyms on playgrounds, leaving Jungkook and Jimin regularly gasping for air while they both pretended to be calm about it since you aren’t supposed to show your pup you’re close to a hysterical fit.
Jimin used to love going to the soccer games. He and Jungkook tried to both be in attendance together. They’d get coffee and snacks, Jimin would wear fancy sunglasses and a trenchcoat while Jungkook would leave the damn suit at home and wear jeans and sneakers for once in case he had to run after a ball, and they’d cheer from the sidelines, arm in arm, Jungkook kissing Jimin’s temple.
Yeah, they were lovey dovey once. Unbelievable, right?
Now that they are separated they make sure to not be in each other’s vicinity during the games.
Jimin loves soccer for the fact that the field is big. The one Jina’s age group uses isn’t as big as for adults, but big enough that he can stand far away enough from the alpha. It would ruin his peaceful Sunday if he had to smell Jungkook or hear his voice.
Jimin’s in a good mood because he’s taking Jina with him after the game. Another week full of Jina’s giggles, her cute cheeks, and someone to fill the silence.
After a week where Chuseok passed, Jimin’s mother threw a fit, and Jimin’s work load was insanely high, the omega deserves a Jina-full week.
And a Jungkook-free week.
He’ll see the alpha at Taehyung’s birthday party next weekend, but Taehyung’s apartment is spacious enough for Jimin to keep a distance there too.
Today, the only acknowledgement Jungkook deserves is a dry nod when Jina scores a goal (because she is a striker, yes) and the whole audience cheers loudly. Jimin of course cheers louder than everyone else—than Jungkook too.
That’s his pup, birthed from his womb.
And it satisfies him a whole lot that Jina comes running to him first, her perfect pigtail, which took Jimin twenty damn minutes this morning, swaying around wildly. “Eomma!” she exclaims happily. “I scored!”
Jimin kisses her head, squeezing her for a moment. “Yes, baby, you did! I saw!”
Jimin lets her go quickly, sending her off again. Jina only has enough time to enthusiastically wave at Jungkook, getting his approval from far away, because the game resumes. It only just started, but his daughter’s team is already leading.
Jimin likes to win, but he likes seeing his daughter win even more.
He’s smiling, arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses perched low on his nose as he watches her run across the field, dribbling masterfully despite her young age. She’s a natural.
Apparently Coach Lee seems to agree because his presence creeps up behind Jimin, musing, “Ah, Jina is a natural, isn’t she?”
Jimin doesn’t react—he felt the alpha approaching five minutes ago already. He kept throwing glances at Jimin, waiting for the perfect timing.
“She’s been improving immensely,” Coach Lee goes on, clicking his tongue.
“Hmm,” Jimin hums, taking a minimal step to the right, not really in the mood for this conversation. Or for any conversation in general. What he said to Taehyung might have just been crazy talk. Now that he is face-to-face with the baby-faced alpha again, Jimin thinks he might not even be able to pretend to play along just for the sake of it.
“It’s so great seeing you attend today, Jimin-ssi. How have you been?”
Jimin turns his body to the coach, his smile strained and insincere. “Splendid. Enjoying the last sunny days.”
Coach Lee nods, letting go of the topic ‘weather’ immediately. “I missed you during the last game, Jimin-ssi.” The alpha has the audacity to fucking pout.
“Is that so,” Jimin says languidly, looking away again.
It just so happens that his eyes land on Jungkook on the other side of the field. The alpha is staring at Jimin, his shoulders tense. He put on a fucking suit today, because since they separated Jungkook lost all the (occasional) style he had when he was with Jimin. You spend years training an alpha and the moment you leave, he’s back to being his worst self. Sure.
However, sometimes, Jimin can’t help but profile his own ex, realizing the suits have always been a type of armor—a defense and a shield and something even Jimin could never penetrate when he was wearing them.
Jimin liked Jungkook best when he was wearing sweats, giving Jimin the impression of normalcy and intimacy.
Jimin hasn’t seen him in sweats since February.
Since they fought.
Since Jimin left.
He’s never been to Jungkook’s new apartment because they always exchange Jina at the gas station and Jungkook has shown up for that in something less than a suit.
The alpha catches Jimin staring. The first instinct is to look away or—Jimin likes this far better—to hold his gaze. Jimin wins every staring contest imaginable. But the bitter and petty part of Jimin has a way better idea: piss Jungkook off.
“Jina always plays better when you’re watching,” Coach Lee acknowledges. “She looks up to you.”
It’s a sweet compliment, Jimin will give him that. Honestly, the alpha isn’t a bad person, but he’s a decade younger and does this job part time for a generous amount of cash from rich parents, so Jimin’s not really returning the attention.
Well, he doesn’t blame the alpha for being into him. Jimin is fit, attractive and assertive. And he’s a certified MILF. And a cop. Usually it’s that part that does it for people.
“Thank you for saying that,” Jimin says, exaggerating his voice and smiling. He will play into it—just to annoy the shit out of Jungkook who can’t hear him but can surely read his body language.
“Of course, of course,” Coach Lee says quickly, waving him off. “Are you looking forward to the season?”
“Sure,” Jimin answers, deepening his smile. “Jina loves autumn and winter.”
“And you? What do you like, Jimin-ssi?”
Bold question. Jimin is mildly impressed.
“I like–”
The soft scent of the ocean and fresh laundry alerts Jimin first. He’d recognize it anywhere. Even years from now, when this will all lie in the past, Jimin fears he won’t be able to delete his body’s memories of the scent.
“Shouldn’t you be paying attention to the game, coach?” Jungkook’s monotone voice cuts through the air, catching Coach Lee off guard.
The younger alpha flinches, whirling around to Jungkook who must have been speeding to get here so quickly.
Satisfaction boils hot under Jimin’s skin, knowing damn well why Jungkook came. But despite his sadistic streak, Jungkook’s strong scent makes Jimin’s chest tighten, his body reacting like the traitor it is. Did he forget to put on blockers?!
He and Jimin both wear them religiously. They have been doing so even before they split up, but recently Jimin has been more diligent in never leaving the house without applying them.
“Uhm, I– I am,” Coach Lee stutters awkwardly. He could never form a full sentence in Jungkook’s presence. Jimin was never sure if it was a case of wanting to be Jungkook or being with Jungkook—maybe a little of both?
“Don’t you have to call halftime?” Jungkook asks cuttingly.
Coach Lee checks his watch, his eyes widening in panic. Without another word, he runs onto the field, aggressively blowing into the whistle he keeps around his neck, waving his arms wildly for the pups to stop moving.
Jimin is unable to keep the shit-eating grin off his face.
“What?” Jungkook grunts, keeping the safe distance between them. He’s got his hands stuffed in his pockets, his hair not moving at all despite the wind, perfectly framing his face, showing off his forehead.
There’s an imaginable wall and it’s not coming down any time soon.
“You do know we’re no longer a thing, right?” Jimin asks him, laughing lightly. “Marking your territory feels iffy. He was just talking to me, like one does who has manners.”
“He wasn’t paying attention to the game,” Jungkook stresses. “I wasn’t marking anything.”
“Yes, he was paying attention to me instead. He always had a thing for me.”
Jungkook laughs bitterly. “Right. He’s like fifteen.”
“I think he’s twenty-five,” Jimin says.
“He’s a pup.”
“Were you a pup at twenty-five?” Jimin scoffs.
“You know I wasn’t,” Jungkook says self-assuredly.
Unfortunately, Jimin can sense he’s losing this conversation. Bringing up the age of twenty-five was not a good move; it’s how old they were when they met each other.
Time to change the topic.
(Then again, Jimin will take credit for turning Jungkook into this polished version he is right now; the omega was the one who curated it.)
“Glad to see you made it to the game,” Jimin comments uppishly. “Going to a meeting afterwards?”
“No, why?”
“The stuck-up suit made me assume.”
“It’s a normal one,” Jungkook says irritatedly. “You know that.”
“Do I?”
Jungkook throws him a pissed off side glance.
“What?”
“Don’t be like this, Jimin.”
“Like what?”
“You–” Jungkook stops himself, exhaling loudly. “Can we go somewhere else for a second?”
“And do what?”
“Talk,” Jungkook emphasizes. “Just talk, Jimin.”
Jimin isn’t sure if he wants to talk to the alpha. But he can feel the curious eyes of other parents on his back. They all know he and Jungkook are separated—it’s kind of obvious when neither Jungkook nor Jimin still wear their wedding bands or carry each other’s scent.
Naturally, there is gossip.
Jimin never minded playing into gossip. Let the people talk. Jimin won’t let that get to him, but he’s terrified Jungkook wants to discuss their number one argument kickstarter: the house.
Despite that, Jimin concedes, “Sure.”
Jungkook leads the way, making Jimin follow him. Since it’s halftime at the moment and Jina and her team are taking a break anyway, Coach Lee holding a motivational speech, she doesn’t notice her parents’ quiet departure.
The alpha walks Jimin away from the field, aiming for a spot behind the sports club’s two-story building, well hidden by some trees that are losing leaves by the plenty, making the ground a little slippery.
“Really?” Jimin says incredulously. “We had to go all the way here?”
“Did you want to talk in front of all the parents? They were staring at you during the whole first half just now.”
“And?”
“Right, I forgot you have no problem with that,” Jungkook huffs, shaking his head slightly.
“Afraid of judgment, Jungkook-ssi?”
Jungkook narrows his gaze. “It would do you good to at least pretend to care about your reputation, Jimin. About Jina’s reputation.”
“Last I checked my reputation was stellar. I’m hot, successful, and don’t have a record.”
“I’m just saying that–”
“No, you’re saying a whole bunch of nothing. Spit it out, what do you want?” Jimin doesn’t want to drag this out. He needs to get back out there and cheer Jina on. Staring at Jungkook’s face for too long puts him in a bad mood. He sees him in his phone gallery enough anyway.
“My lawyer suggested an in-person meeting.”
Jimin’s throat runs dry.
Jungkook clears his throat. “With your lawyer in presence too, of course. So we could discuss things more… civilly.”
“Are you insinuating I’m incapable of being civil?” Jimin lets out a hysterical laugh. This fucking asshole.
“No one is insinuating anything. All I’m suggesting is that from here on we should make sure we keep any discussion about the nature of the divorce settlement strictly limited to a–”
“Get out of here with your fucking corporate talk,” Jimin cuts in, scoffing at Jungkook. He always hated it when Jungkook would talk like this, void of emotion, like he was the only one with self control and Jimin was some rabid animal he had to calm down.
Jungkook’s face hardens, his jaw ticking.
“Meeting with our lawyers, fine,” Jimin says. “Could have been an email. No need to drag me away for some pathetic power trip.”
“Power trip?” Jungkook echoes, his voice going up. “Jimin-ah, can we please–”
“You can’t call me that,” Jimin says angrily, stepping closer. “Not anymore.”
Jungkook doesn’t deflate. He’s riled up today, apparently reciprocating Jimin’s desire for a good fight. “You made your point clear,” he says tonelessly.
“Did I? Because you seem to forget it whenever it’s convenient.” Like you know it’ll get to me.
“Have you been sleeping, Jimin?”
The omega tilts his head to the side, looking Jungkook up and down. “What kind of question is that?”
Jimin made sure to look bomb this morning, waking up at six to shower, do his hair, wear his best outfit, and still have enough time to get Jina ready and give her a perfectly clean ponytail.
“Just asking. I can tell you tried to cover the bags under your eyes.”
“Fuck you,” Jimin spits. “You have no right to ask me personal questions or comment on my appearance anymore.”
“You make it so easy,” Jungkook muses, looking at him condescendingly.
“I could tell you were staring earlier,” Jimin shoots back. “Had to come all the way across the field to tell that alpha to fuck off, hm?”
Jungkook meets Jimin’s fiery gaze without backing down. The alpha’s scent invades Jimin’s senses, making his mating bite tingle uncomfortably. “You should work on your composure,” Jungkook drawls in a quiet, threatening manner. “You won’t last long like this in court. All riled up from nothing.”
Like a switch was flipped, Jimin changes his whole demeanor, letting his eyes water on command. “You sure about that?” he sniffles dramatically. “If I cry, and tell them how horrible of a husband you’ve been to me, how often you let me down and couldn’t even make me co–”
A low growl from Jungkook is all the warning Jimin gets.
A split second later, the alpha is already up in his face, whispering, “Don’t finish that sentence, omega.”
“Or what?” Jimin whispers back, only distantly realizing how compromising this situation is. How impossible.
But slipping back into old habits is easier than anything else.
Jimin is a habitual offender.
And his crime is Jungkook.
“Or I’ll have to remind you how easily I can make you quiver,” Jungkook murmurs intimately, his minty breath hitting Jimin’s lips.
Jimin stops thinking completely.
“Remind me?” he asks, matching Jungkook’s confrontational demeanor. He looks down at the alpha’s lips. He can almost recall the taste and shape of them against his own. It’s right there, somewhere in his memories, and maybe he should make new ones…
“You seemed to have forgotten,” Jungkook says darkly.
“Have I?”
“Keep running that mouth of yours, omega.”
“Or what, alpha?”
Jimin’s a pro at provoking Jungkook. Once, the alpha wouldn’t have eaten out of Jimin’s hand like this; he was used to this happening almost on the daily, after all. But it’s been months. Months where they didn’t talk, only argued. Months where they didn’t look at each other, only glared. Months where they didn’t touch each other, only kept their distance.
There is a breaking point for everything.
Jimin can spot it with unmatched accuracy in criminals’ eyes.
He sees the same in Jungkook’s dark ones. Greediness bleeds into them, his armor chipping away. It’s marvelous to see someone like Jungkook lose control.
Before Jimin’s suppressed rationality can interfere, Jungkook is already ferociously kissing him, his hands are half on Jimin’s face, half in Jimin’s hair. He’s pushing Jimin back, forcing the omega to stumble, just until his back hits the wall of the building, giving Jungkook leverage.
The pain makes Jimin gasp against Jungkook’s mouth, and then suck in another sharp breath when Jungkook’s leg is wedged between his, sending a jolt through him. There’s no adjusting, no second to come to terms with what is happening because Jungkook’s sinful mouth is on Jimin’s again, and it is no less intense than the first one.
Jimin’s blood rushes through his ears. He hears nothing but his own loud, erratic heartbeat and the sound of their lips moving together.
Something about it feels new.
The time between now and the last kiss?
The fact that this one is fueled by spite, anger and something dangerously close to desperation?
Jimin doesn’t care. Oh Goddess, he doesn’t care at all.
This—Jungkook’s hand wandering down to his waist, lifting Jimin’s shirt to feel bare skin, his tongue hungrily exploring Jimin’s mouth, a deep, appreciative growl coming from deep inside the alpha’s chest—all feels too good.
Goosebumps appear where Jungkook’s warm hand touches the skin of Jimin’s toned abdomen. His breath flutters and their lips pull apart, Jungkook chasing after Jimin’s. But Jimin throws his head back, and so the alpha has full access to Jimin’s neck. He spreads kisses, litters it with them, soft and open-mouthed.
Jimin’s head is spinning. He bites his lip, a metallic taste shooting through his mouth. Jungkook’s hand runs over his ribcage, causing Jimin to breathe in shakily.
“Jungkook,” Jimin says in a whisper, his body thrumming.
“Yeah?” the alpha responds instantly, pausing for a second.
The two of them look at each other. Jimin is taken aback by the craving present in the alpha’s eyes, waiting for Jimin to say something.
But there is nothing on Jimin’s mind, nothing he could say, and he doesn’t need to; Jungkook can read his mind.
In the blink of an eye, Jungkook whips Jimin around, pressing his crotch against Jimin’s ass. His cock is already hard, making Jimin lick his lips in anticipation, his heart beating through his chest.
“Do I need to prep you?” Jungkook asks roughly.
Jimin answers without hesitation, his greed now making him impatient. “No.”
Jungkook hums appreciatively, pulling down Jimin’s pants. “I love these pants on you,” he comments as he hooks a finger into Jimin’s underwear. “And these. I love these.”
Jimin’s wearing plain black ones. “They’re my ugly ones–”
“They’re perfect.”
Jimin can’t utter anything in return because Jungkook rubs his crotch over the omega’s bare ass, the fabric of his slacks not leaving much to imagination. He’s being a tease.
The omegan part of Jimin wants to urge the alpha to get going with it, to fill Jimin up, but Jimin bites his lip, refusing to say anything. He draws blood as soon as Jungkook bites into the juncture between Jimin’s neck and shoulder.
His hands grip Jimin’s waist, pulling him close, while he makes sure Jimin feels him.
A moan slips out of Jimin.
“Yeah?” Jungkook says breathily. Jimin can hear the smile in his voice, the freaking pride only an alpha could feel.
It annoys Jimin, but it’s also hot. Everything about this is dirty and frantic and hot.
Nothing feels better than doing something you shouldn’t do. Jimin knows this; he’s a cop. All he deals with is people not being able to withstand the forbidden. I didn’t mean to, they all say. It was like someone else was controlling my body.
Jimin might feel that way later when the heat of the moment has long turned into ice. Right now, though, he is acutely aware of what he is doing. Remorse is an unfamiliar concept.
Jimin's hands lie flat against the wall, his fingers curling inward. He’s caged in, but not unable to move. He arches his back, sticking his butt out.
“Fuck,” Jungkook hisses, stopping Jimin’s hips from moving. “You’re so fucking wet. I can smell you, Jimin.”
Jimin’s slick is indeed heavy in the air, a sweet, cloying scent, dominating even their combined pheromones. The mixture of their scents is only adding to the haze in Jimin’s mind, keeping him prisoner of the moment, an intoxicating cocktail brewing. He couldn’t stop this even if he wanted to.
He hears Jungkook unbuckling his belt, his movements quick, perhaps just as frantic as everything else about this is.
A heartbeat later, Jungkook is grabbing the underside of Jimin’s butt and the alpha’s cock slips between his cheeks, making Jimin moan yet again.
Jungkook’s free hand appears on Jimin’s mouth. “Shh,” Jungkook murmurs, “quiet, Jimin-ah.”
Jimin bites his tongue, Jungkook’s hand still covering his mouth as the alpha moves his hips, his hard cock teasing Jimin’s rim, the copious slick making the slide smooth.
Jungkook lets go of Jimin’s butt, his arm coming around Jimin’s body instead, grabbing the omega’s chest, before letting it wander, his nails slightly scraping over Jimin’s sensitive skin.
Jimin’s eyes flutter shut. The alpha’s hands wander lower, resting on Jimin’s lower abdomen for a moment as he continues thrusting slightly, a squelching sound filling the air next to Jimin’s short and hushed breaths.
But then Jungkook wraps his hand around Jimin’s cock and the touch alone makes it twitch in the alpha’s big hand where it's completely engulfed, only the tip slightly peeking out. Jimin moans, and Jungkook’s hand drowns it out, ensuring his silence.
With the alpha stroking him and simultaneously fucking him, Jimin is already doomed. His knees grow weaker the harder Jungkook’s thrusts come, hitting Jimin in the right places, making him want to scream and moan, but he is silenced and only able to breathe through his nose. It makes him a little dizzy, which makes all of this even better.
“You’re clenching,” Jungkook says behind him, his voice coming out textured and deep. “Fuck, Jimin. You’re gonna make me come already–”
Perhaps it’s those exact words which make Jimin tip over the edge, his vision going black as the tension in his lower belly snaps and he feels his whole body convulse, his cock twitching in Jungkook’s grasp as cum shoots out.
Suddenly, Jungkook’s hips stutter, a grunt coming from him as he pauses his thrusts to not come too. “Fuck, Jimin-ah, I’m going to pull out–"
Jimin regains some control the second Jungkook pulls out of him, leaving him empty, slick gushing out.
“Come in my mouth,” Jimin rasps, going down on his knees, batting his eyelashes.
Looking up at Jungkook while the alpha is stroking himself, completely hypnotized by Jimin kneeling for him, is a sight to behold. Jimin finds himself almost smiling, feeling flattered by the alpha’s undoing.
“Tongue out,” Jungkook orders authoritatively.
Jimin sticks his tongue out expectedly.
“Yeah,” Jungkook breathes, putting a hand against the wall for leverage while he strokes himself one more time, his cock brushing against the tip of Jimin’s tongue. He comes hard, his body seizing as his cock pumps out ropes of cum.
Most of it lands on Jimin’s tongue, making the omega hum, while some of it lands on his cheek, warm and gooey.
The alpha shakes off the last few drops of cum, his eyes never leaving Jimin’s face as the omega gathers it on his tongue by wiping off the drops that landed on his face with his finger, licking it clean.
“Swallow,” Jungkook commands strictly.
“Already did,” Jimin says, revealing his empty tongue. “Happy?”
“Good,” Jungkook retorts curtly, his expression still clouded by his orgasm. “Get up,” he demands next, jerking his chin.
Jimin does so, coming up. He reaches Jungkook’s chin, and the only choice he has is to stare up at the alpha, their bodies brushing against each other.
“Give me your handkerchief,” Jimin whispers, slowly feeling his body come down from his orgasm.
Jungkook doesn’t react, his eyes locked on Jimin’s neck—on the scar exposed.
“Jungkook,” Jimin urges.
Finally, the alpha snaps out of it. “Right,” he murmurs, fishing his handkerchief from the inside pocket of his blazer.
Jimin snatches it out of his hand, a grimace covering his face when he realizes Jungkook’s hands are soiled by Jimin’s slick, cum, and Jungkook’s own cum.
“I need to clean up,” Jimin murmurs, trying to wipe himself down to not have his pants completely ruined by slick. He fixes his outfit, feeling his own cheeks to see if they feel very hot.
Meanwhile, Jungkook is still a freaking statue, his gaze staring off into nowhere.
“We will– I–” Jimin tries to form a whole sentence, but his throat feels dry and his chest hollow, like he’s missing something despite having gotten his fill just now.
“I will go first,” Jimin decides when nothing comes from Jungkook. “And you– You will just leave.”
“Huh?”
“Just go to your car and drive. You are… filthy,” Jimin comments, swallowing.
Slowly, Jungkook looks down on himself, realizing he looks fucked.
“Goddess,” Jimin whispers, running a hand through his hair in frustration. What did he do?! What did they just do?!
Jimin distances himself from Jungkook, his heart not beating in the right rhythm. He’s still dizzy, his brain apparently got fucked alongside his ass.
“I’m leaving,” Jimin announces to Jungkook. He doesn’t even remember why they left the game in the first place.
Jimin didn’t think he’d ever have to do the walk of shame again in his life because he swore off alphas the second he moved out of their townhouse. Love is a scam. Alphas are an even bigger scam. But apparently Jimin didn’t learn his lesson yet.
What do you do when you screw your ex-alpha but still-husband behind your daughter’s soccer club while she’s still playing?
How is he supposed to deal with
1) the ecstasy rushing through his veins from his first good orgasm in months,
2) the shame for leaving his daughter in the middle of her game,
3) the bone-crushing guilt that he relapsed, which is making him nauseous while he treks back to the field, realizing the game has just ended.
I just had sex with my ex, goes through Jimin’s mind. It repeats in the voice of the singer from the eponymous song. I just had seeeeeex and it felt so good–
Enough.
Jimin shakes his head, walking faster.
He is stopped by his own daughter’s voice and her tiny figure charging at him like a freaking wrecking ball.
“Eomma!” Jina calls out, her eyes wide and crazed. “WE WON!”
“Oh no,” Jimin whispers, not wanting to have his daughter come too close right after he got fucked.
Jina hugs his legs, whining, “Eomma, pick me up!”
“Jina, baby, eomma is–”
Instead of confronting him about his sudden absence during the game, Jina says something way worse.
“You smell like appa again, eomma.”
The words hit Jimin like a truck, stealing the air right out of his lungs. He can’t breathe, can’t react, and can’t move on from his daughter’s observation.
Whenever you think things can’t get worse, you are terribly wrong.
Coach Lee appears, jogging towards them. “Jimin-ssi!” he says loudly, waving at Jimin.
Alarm bells ring in Jimin’s mind. While Jina cannot place why the hell Jimin smells like he rolled around in Jungkook’s scent (read: got cumshotted), Coach Lee—a mid-twenties, horny alpha—certainly can.
“Where is appa?” Jina asks with a frown, remembering Jungkook should be around too.
“He, uhm… appa had a work emergency,” Jimin croaks out, having found his voice again. “Jina, we need to go. Now.”
“Oh, okay. Can I call him later? I want to show him the huge bruise I got!”
Jimin’s parental instincts kick in full force, making him forget about the horrible mistake he just made. “Bruise?!”
Jina pulls up her shorts, proudly presenting the giant bruise forming on the side of her thigh. Jimin can see the shape of a fucking shoe on there. “What the fuck,” he breathes, nearly going blind from worry and anger. “Who did this?!”
“They tried to stop me, eomma,” she grins, the gap in the middle more prominent than usual, “but I didn’t let them. Just like you said last time!”
Jimin never believed people when they said some silly expression like ‘children are the gift that keeps on giving’, but since having Jina at the delicate age of twenty-eight she’s been proving that idioms are idioms for a reason.
“Proud of you,” Jimin smiles, picking his daughter up. “Hold on, Jina."
He breathes in his daughter’s scent—still a perfect mix of himself and Jungkook—before he sets off.
“Jimin-ssi!” Coach Lee’s voice follows Jimin as he escapes, fleeing off to the parking lot.
Jimin’s used to running away; years of undercover work prepared him for this very moment, walk of shame or not.
✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈«
Jina’s absence in his car is the only reason why Jungkook dares to speed home, breaking more than a few traffic laws in the process.
He’s sweating profusely by the time he bursts through the front door of the apartment he still feels like a stranger in. His mind started to feel sluggish and hazy, his thoughts sort of tumbling, becoming disjointed.
He feels like he is entering a fever dream, his body turning heavy like a stone, yet hot like someone threw gasoline over him and then took a burning match, holding it to his body.
“Fuck,” comes over his lips, breathy and faint as he takes his jacket off, tearing his tie off right after. His skin feels sensitive, sticky, the fabric of his professionally tailored suit like sandpaper on his skin.
Catching sight of himself in the bathroom mirror only confirms what Jungkook already knew; he’s going into rut. Fast.
He’s free falling, his body betraying him. The descent feels like going through a meat grinder, his insides twisting, trying to murder him. His body’s temperature is going up—he’s practically burning—and with it, his emotions are too.
According to his calendar he is still five days away from his rut.
But Jungkook thought it wasn’t going to come. That his body wouldn’t be ready for a rut alone. He didn’t even coordinate with Jimin in case of a rut, because technically the week it would have hit him would be one where Jina is supposed to stay with him.
But then Jimin.
Jimin, Jimin, Jimin.
He kissed Jimin.
Tasted him.
Fucked him.
The omega’s taste still coats Jungkook’s tongue, sending him into a state of absolute abandon.
With the last shred of concentration he still possesses, he manages to send an email to his assistant, alerting him he’s not going to make it to work tomorrow. And, well, the upcoming days.
Usually, his ruts last three days.
But that was his average with Jimin.
Now, Jungkook is alone, and the smell of Jimin’s slick on his fingers a torture of such an exquisite kind, Jungkook fears this rut will last longer.
He feels pathetic as he slips his hand into his pants, wrapping it around his hardening cock, imagining Jimin’s face. His body is yearning for a touch, a smell, and a voice it had just thirty minutes ago. One it had been missing since February.
One kiss, and the armor Jungkook built around his soul fell apart.
He will suffer through this rut, his alpha desperate for his omega, while Jungkook’s mind has moved on—has accepted the reality.
Jimin is no longer his, and maybe this rut, spent alone, is what Jungkook needs to let go of any last hope completely.
It’s his punishment.
Finally, he’ll learn atonement.