Chapter Text
There are things in life one simply knows. Things so engraved within us, we don’t even question them.
Among these certainties for Jimin is that he’s an omega and would surely present as one. After all, his very essence screams it. With a tenderness of heart that can trump even the most obdurate of souls and a slight frame, his inclinations naturally lean towards nurture and care. And although he does ‘suffer from extreme stubbornness’, as his father would put it, Jimin embodies a gentleness untainted by any desire for dominance or an inflated ego to cloud his reason.
Yet, life has a funny way of spinning reality on its head, as if to simply watch destiny awkwardly fumble with unfamiliar threads, weaving them into its loom with quivering fingers. And Jimin’s thread must be the most intricate one destiny’s ever woven, because on his 20th birthday he goes into his first rut.
His presentation happens much later than expected, or considered normal. He gets isolated in a remote cabin, constructed by the pack solely for accommodating presentations. It’s scarcely furnished since most furniture's either used inappropriately or destroyed anyway.
For once, however, Jimin welcomes the solitude. It means no one's there to witness his cries; not just from the natural pain accompanying a first rut, but the disappointment in his new status as an alpha.
Painful and extremely lewd is the only way to describe the week spent in that hut. Jimin doesn’t want to feel the alpha in him awaken, see the knot making its first appearance at the base of his crotch, or experience the pheromones making him agitated and confused. He was never supposed to be that.
From that moment, he goes on suppressants hoping to never experience any of it again. Medication's rarely used (or encouraged) in the pack, but it's allowed if a wolf's adamant on not wanting to go through their cycle or is hurting too much during it. Afraid to confess the disdain for his new sub-gender, Jimin goes for the latter. For that, at least, the elders are understanding.
Jimin's pack isn't what one might typically expect. The settlement lies closer to urbanized areas and, as a result, has adopted more aspects of human life than a conventional wolf pack. Though they still live within a vast expanse of woods, their cabins are warm, neat, and well-maintained. Some even house human gadgets like boxy computers (three to be exact) all placed in the library hut, since the elders deem them likely to plant ‘inappropriate’ ideas in young wolves’ minds.
There are also communal spaces like the dining hall, medical lodge, and areas designated for festivals and ceremonies. The other buildings are mated wolves’ cabins, as well as two separate dens—one for omegas and one for alphas yet to be mated, the last two by far the biggest buildings in compound.
Up until his presentation, Jimin lived with his parents, still considered a pup. But although surprised, they weren’t disappointed by his new rank, believing he’d be better off as an alpha; that he’d be safer.
Safe. A word Jimin would understand the full meaning of only later in life.
Now, compound's law dictates he's to be transferred to the alpha den, Jimin’s move to independence rushed and somewhat chaotic. There’s no time to adjust amidst the frenzy of accepting his new status and responsibilities within the pack. He tries to navigate life as it comes, doing his best to live up to the alpha behaviour expected of him. That means appearing confident and firm, and always thinking twice before reacting to ensure nothing omegaen slips through the cracks.
Despite his daily routine being the performance of a lifetime, Jimin returns to his room night after night to stand in front of the slim mirror on the wall. He watches his hands travel across the curvature of his round, supple bottom, the doughiness atop undefined muscles, the slight silhouette of his cock and balls, too pink and tender for his rank. Even the occasional knot that'd adorn the base is rather pitiful.
Nothing of what the mirror feeds back to Jimin belongs on an alpha. It's not like he can make an omega happy with these attributes, either.
He hadn’t even thought about that until recently; hadn’t even considered omegas as mates because he'd always believed he'd be one. Thought he'd partake in omegaen group cuddles in the den opposite this one. Maybe work in the library. Learn all about heats, and gossip about kno—
Jimin huffs out a tense breath. What would the elders say when he can’t find a mate?
He shakes his head to dispel the thought. The moon's already climbed high in the sky and blue moon rays are performing an intricate dance on the tall walls of his room. Jimin quickly climbs into his bed and ignores the still-unfamiliar scent of the sheets; being away from home takes some getting used to.
He opens the navy-blue notebook where he keeps track of everything that’s been happening with his body (and mind) as a newly presented alpha. Inside he scribbles two new words: Approaching hunt.
Jimin grimaces at the page. He’s never been too physically active and is generally squeamish when it comes to dead things. Lacking the desire to put a knife into anything that walks and breaths means fulfilling his responsibilities towards compound will be nothing short of challenging. The upcoming hunt, organized in honour of the newly-presented, was fast approaching, only a month or so away, and Jimin can’t fathom how he’ll survive it, let alone bring anything back.
He starts jotting down points to consider when a loud thud startles him.
Frozen, he looks towards the source of the sound—the hallway, he thinks.
Slowly, Jimin tiptoes towards the door, careful not to make any squeaky sounds on the wooden floor. He presses an ear to the aged mahogany door and listens.
The thud resounds again, accompanied by distant voices.
Laughing, Jimin concludes. Must be the alphas, returning from doing who-knows-what in this ungodly hour.
The third thud comes near Jimin’s ear and he jumps back. The voices are now just outside his room, and he scrambles back to his bed, pretending to be busy. Alphas make him nervous. Too energetic, too dominant, too... unlike him.
The knob turns, making Jimin’s heart drum in bursts. For safety reasons, the compound’s Council prohibits den doors from being locked; the elders are keenly aware of how wild and irresponsible unmated wolves can be. Yet, the policy also allows anyone to barge into Jimin’s room at any time even if there’s a general understanding such an intrusion would be acceptable only if it concerns an important matter.
Jimin can’t think of an important matter at this hour. Which is why he braces for confrontation.
Oh, Moon, let there not be a need for conflict…
With a rattle, the door swings open, slamming against the wall. Before Jimin stands a grinning young alpha with glint in his eyes. His face is flushed a ruddy hue, the scent wafting off him fresh and grassy with undertones of something more pungent; certainly not what he expected.
The unfamiliar alpha’s posture isn’t overtly threatening. If anything, he seems flushed and… drunk.
Jimin tsks mentally. The pungency in the scent is alcohol.
“Off your peaches, buddy. It’s GO time,” the guy whoops elated.
Jimin hears more doors opening down the hall. More excited shouts.
“Are you going to budge, or shall I scoop you up like a little omega and cart you off myself?” the guy nips.
Jimin blinks in stupor, eye twitching at the mention of ‘omega’.
“I—no! What’s going on?”Jimin scrambles further down the bed as the other alpha draws closer.
Hoseok. Jimin sees the name written neatly on a little sticky note on the left side of his linen shirt.
“Here—” Hoseok reaches towards Jimin, “—what’s your name?” He slaps a similar piece of paper onto Jimin’s night shirt.
Jimin squeaks a shrill sound.
Hoseok’s brows pinch and Jimin clears his throat to mask the awkward sound.
Firm, Jimin thinks. Appear firm.
“Jimin.” He strains to modulate his voice into a lower register. “My name is Park Jimin.”
Hoseok takes out a marker from his back pocket and scribbles his name onto the paper.
“There!” He gives Jimin’s chest a friendly pat to help the paper stick better. “Come on, Park Jimin. Let’s not make the others wait,” Hoseok grins again and turns to head out.
Battering down the confusion and discomfort sizzling in his gut, Jimin doesn’t bother closing the door behind himself—it’d be useless, since everyone can barge in anyway.
Hoseok strides purposefully down the hallway. “I forgot how endearing newly presented alphas are.”
Despite having been in the den for several weeks now, Jimin wouldn’t know. He hadn’t bothered making friends.
He mostly kept to himself the weeks following his presentation, visiting the elder’s den only to receive new compound duty—moving timber from the storage lodge to the wood-cutting grounds, cleaning weapons for hunting, and other tedious tasks.
Looking around, Jimin notices that every door on the floor is wide open, revealing empty rooms. The hall bustles with youthful faces, and the air’s thick with a variety of alpha scents that overwhelm Jimin’s senses. So much so, he doesn’t see the back he smashes into.
Jimin stumbles back, stupefied, as he realizes Hoseok's halted and is looking at him over his shoulder.
“You sure you’re okay?” Concern has replaced the gleam in his eyes.
“Sorry, I—” Jimin begins, but is interrupted by another approaching alpha.
He huffs in exasperation. The new guy's tall and wears a smile that brings cute creases to his eyes.
“Hobi!” he charges. “Did you manage to get everyone?”
“All here,” he says. Then quieter, “This one might need a little chaperoning. He’s one of the new ones.”
Jimin wants to protest, but decides he’s better off quiet until he finds out what in the damned Moon is going on.
“Jimin,” the newcomer reads the sticky note on his shirt. “Stick with Hoseok. He’ll make sure you’re out of trouble.”
Hoseok gives a shallow punch to the other man’s shoulder.
“Yeah, and you for sure won’t,” Hoseok scolds. “Our Jungkookie here is newly-presented too, but he likes to pretend he knows how stuff works.”
Jimin distantly notes he must be at least a few years older than Jungkook. It doesn’t really come as a surprise there are alphas younger than him in the den. He’s the late bloomer.
Hoseok thugs him towards a big hall at the end of the den, where Jimin can see what can only be every unmated alpha in compound. Seated, standing, chatting, laughing—the men and women in the room seem not at all perplexed by the situation, shy of a few faces that look as pale and lost as Jimin feels.
“This happens every season,” Hoseok explains. “Though you probably haven’t heard, since it’s usually kept lowkey from the rest of compound. Especially the elders.”
He accepts a glass handed to him by Jungkook, undoubtedly filled with alcohol.
“It’s to welcome new alphas into the den. A celebration of sorts,” Jungkook pitches in, mischief glimmering in his eyes.
Is this supposed to be an initiation? Just the thought makes Jimin uneasy.
“Nice, Gukk,” Hoseok tsks.
Jungkook’s hands fly up in defence. “All I’m saying is that he’s in for a treat.”
“Don’t mind this idiot.” Hoseok turns to Jimin. “Just try not to take shit seriously tonight, ok?
The alpha’s scent somehow doesn’t overwhelm Jimin, perhaps recognizing his wolf as a friend. And he’d gladly take a friendly face in this crowd.
Jimin nods. He isn't sure what’s about to happen tonight, but he knows he won’t like it.
“New alphas, please come forth.” A voice echoes and Jimin is nudged forward.
Warm bodies shift aside to make to open a corridor leading towards a small dais. The person who spoke is there, too. A tall, well-built man, not much older than Jimin, with a deep dimple decorating one of his cheeks. Him Jimin recognizes.
Kim Namjoon, the alpha den’s Lead of sorts. He helped Jimin with the paperwork.
Jimin steps on the little dais placed at the far end of the hall, made for speeches and when the elders pay visits to the den. He’s not alone, too—a dozen other fresh faces already stand in a line on the podium, facing the large crowd.
Jimin feels a hot flush crawl all the way up to his cheeks and neck; he never liked attention.
The first thing Jimin does when he stands shoulder to shoulder with the others is scan the crowd for Hoseok. He needs a familiar face to focus on.
Turns out to be a rookie mistake, Jimin realizes, because his eyes clash with darkness.
Jimin stiffens as if caught in a net cast to catch naïve fish.
The gaze from across the hall is unlike the glimmering eyes of the majority of the crowd. It's full of caution. Platinum white hair frames a resolute face. His shoulders are broad, almost grotesquely so, and he’s dressed in all grim colors. The only contrast is the hint of white chest visible beneath a few buttons on his shirt left casually undone.
What's perhaps most frustrating, though, is how he stands as if the room belongs to him. Heck, as if Jimin himself somehow belongs to him.
He squints, unable to make out the name tag on his chest from this far.
After thoroughly scanning the stranger’s body, Jimin lifts his gaze, only to find him still looking back. The feeling's odd.
Jimin averts his gaze. His mind can sifter through the confusion later.
“Strip,” Namjoon instructs.
Strip?! As in taking clothes off?
Jimin looks around in silent panic as the others in line start to slowly remove items of clothing, expressions just as perplexed as his own.
It takes Jimin a few moments to register the strong scent just inches from his face. He jerks forward to find the den’s Lead uncomfortably close.
“Strip, alpha,” he bruises. “You can leave the underwear on. No one wants to see you pop a knot.” It’s stern, but with no bite.
Jimin savors the sliver of relief that he doesn’t have to go completely bare; even if Namjoon's words linger unpleasantly. He has no intention of forming any knots, nor of popping anything.
“Okay, rabbits. This is your official welcome to your new life in the pack. You’re no longer boys and girls,” Namjoon announces. “You’ll have new purpose. And dare I say, more fun.”
Quiet laughter ripples across the hall.
“Tonight, you’ll prove yourselves worthy of your rank by being at your most vulnerable and encouraged to feel strength in it.”
Jimin wants to roll his eyes, but abstains considering the spectatorship.
“Tonight, you’ll hunt,” comes the sonorous announcement. “Nothing big, don’t worry those tender hearts of yours. Bring back whatever you can. A damn squirrel would do. It’ll teach you what it means to venture out alone, but most importantly—not return empty-handed.”
Namjoon scans the hall.
“It’s what your alpha mothers and fathers did when you were pups.” He paces the dais slowly. Authoritatively. “The approaching Big Hunt is your responsibility towards the pack. Tonight’s hunt… that's your duty towards alphas.”
The crowd, as silent as the dead but a moment ago, erupts in resounding roars of approval. A hand gesture from Namjoon returns it back to the dead.
“Call back time is sunrise at the latest. And since most of you have never experienced a hunt before, we’ll have a few of our most seasoned alphas accompany you,” he says. “But make no mistake, they’ll be shadows amongst shadows. You won’t even know they’re there. They’re not to help you hunt, ease your fear, or hold your hand through the night. Their only job's to keep you from dying if you decide to do something stupid.” Then with an emphasis, “So don’t do anything stupid.”
Namjoon’s eyes linger on Jimin. Albeit a little annoyed, he can’t be offended. Jimin knows he’s the most frail-looking on that dais; knows everyone else sees it too.
He’s reminded of a particular pair of dark eyes still looking at him. Jimin must focus on a dirty spot next to his feet to not glance in the direction.
He squares his shoulders, although pitifully.
“One last thing—” Namjoon finishes, “—don’t get caught. If you do, you’re on your own. One word to the elders about this and you’ll regret ever popping your first knot.”
In for a treat, Jimin recalls. Jungkook had a point.
***
Wind licks at Jimin’s sides as he takes a step outside the den’s warmth.
The moon throws enough silver light to see the line of trees marking the beginning of the hunting grounds.
Despite the small crowd gathered at the entrance of the den, silence chokes the air.
A send-off. A secret one at that.
Several naked alphas start towards the woods, but Jimin hesitates. He can’t hunt. He can’t even run for long. He’ll probably trip over his own feet and get eaten by something feral out there.
Park Jimin's going to die tonight. It’s certain.
A nudge at his elbow startles him. Standing to his side, Namjoon juts his chin towards the woods.
“You better go. The last tend to become the laughing stock of the den.”
The warning’s enough to spur Jimin into action; he doesn’t need any more attention drawn to himself. And so, Jimin runs.
The night is darker in the woods.
Upon realizing he’s completely alone among the tall evergreens, with no sight of any other alpha nearby, Jimin shivers. Not just from fear, but from the cold digging its teeth into his bare skin.
He twirls around frantically, trying to figure out which way to go, but it’s just trees and more trees in every direction.
A distant scream—of either victory or pain, Jimin can’t quite tell—makes him whimper pitifully. He shrinks down, attempting to self-soothe by wrapping his arms around his torso.
Why does it feel like the woods have a pair of eyes on him?
You’re no alpha, repeats as a mantra in his mind.
Jimin scans the area for any movement, hoping to find something he can charge at and catch. The sooner he does, the sooner he’ll get to go back. But nothing stirs, except the tall branches that resemble long, skeletal fingers, creepily sifting through the moon rays.
Jimin can smell his own scent spiking in fear as the silence stiffens. Such silence is never good, especially in these woods.
A crack of a stick makes Jimin’s head spin in the direction of the sound, eyes locking with a large shadow not too far away. He stops breathing for a moment, mind scattering.
This is no squirrel to bring back to the den.
Jimin’s body prickles with goosebumps as his feet attempt to move. The dark shadow huffs and a pair of large teeth unfold in an unfriendly grin. Jimin's sure it’s a grin, laughing at him; at his uneasiness and the weakness oozing from his body.
It's also his cue to run. It's all he can do, anyway.
The moment his feet leave the ground to gallop in the opposite direction, he feels the shadow charging after him, heavy steps accompanied by a roar. Jimin doesn’t even want to look back to see what it is, running as fast as his feet can carry him. The sticks and stones on the ground dig painfully into his bare soles and Jimin can feel tears budding at the corners of his eyes, more out of anger than pain. He was supposed to be in his warm bed now, tucked and safe in scented blankets. As every omega should be.
Fuck! The shadow closes in on him and Jimin's so close to just giving up; it’s not like he wants this life, anyway.
That’s when his feet crash into something hard and cold and he drops to the ground. Regret of all previous thoughts comes knocking.
Maybe he does care about remaining alive a little bit.
Jimin’s heart skips a few good beats, and his fists dig into the dirt in preparation for a clash with whatever gave him chase. Except a clash never comes.
Just a moment ago, Jimin could hear the creature’s heavy breath and its loud stomps. Now, the night again stills in silence.
Jimin looks up and around, still hunched on the ground. His body's dirtied with soil, underwear torn in more places than one. He recognizes a sharp boulder several steps back as the culprit for his fall. Then comes the stick of blood. So much blood.
Jimin winces, rubbing at his aching sides in a failed attempt to stand and it takes him a moment to make out another shadow between the trees ahead. A smaller figure than the one that chased him, but still big enough to make Jimin alert.
It’s the outline of a man, rather than beast, which lifts some of the pressure off his shoulders. Jimin recalls what Namjoon mentioned about being accompanied by seasoned alphas. To keep them from dying, sounds stupidly in his mind.
Jimin lets out a long breath. He’ll surely get a scolding for this.
“Can you stand?”
The firm baritone startles Jimin more than anything else that night.
Still on the ground, he shifts his weight backwards to put some distance between himself and the shadowy figure.
“I asked if you can move, alpha,” the voice comes again, a bit sterner.
The figure steps forward and Jimin recognizes him immediately.
Calm, dark eyes stare back at him. He’s wearing all black again, but now the milky-white chest's covered by a heavy pelt. He somehow looks even bigger from up-close, his frame threatening enough for Jimin’s thoughts to scramble in a haze of wanting to simultaneously answer and submit.
Submit, Jimin’s inner voice reprimands him for even thinking that; even taking a liking to the idea.
“I-I think my foot is…” Jimin trails off, because the other man kneels at his feet after only several big strides forward.
A hand grabs his ankle and pulls it up, while the other supports his naked thigh.
Jimin jerks, startled, but instead of loosening, the alpha’s grip tightens further.
For the first time tonight, Jimin's glad for the darkness because it hides the crimson hues on his face. He's never been touched so high up; not when he's practically naked, and most definitely not by an unknown alpha. The hand on his thigh feels almost intimate.
The bigger alpha huffs out a breath as he examines Jimin’s wound. In the moonlight, Jimin can see his face a little clearer. More specifically, just how attractive he is. Although his features still conceal something threatening, there's an unexpected elegance to them.
“Ouch! Don’t—” Jimin kicks when the alpha drags a finger around the wound.
“Yoongi. Min Yoongi,” the man introduces curtly, dark eyes boring holes into Jimin’s.
“Yoongi,” Jimin repeats. “It hurts.”
He forces himself to look at the bloody gash just so he can avoid his eyes, suddenly overly conscious of his nakedness safe for the thorn underwear that barely hangs off his hips. Meanwhile Min Yoongi stands tall, and clothed, and intimidating. Jimin wants to give himself a sobering slap.
The scent of blood is somehow concealing Yoongi’s scent, Jimin notes as he tries to catch a whiff. The irony stench is stronger to the right, where a corpse lies lifeless some few feet away. Bloodied grey fur sways lazily under the wind and Jimin realizes it’s the beast that had given him a chase. Yoongi must’ve killed it.
“You have to go back and get that taken care of.” Yoongi gestures down at Jimin’s foot, brows furrowed in what Jimin would like to think of as concern.
He shakes his head, because he can’t go back. He hasn’t caught anything and Namjoon said not to come back empty-handed.
As if having read his thoughts, Yoongi stands and goes back into the shadows only to return with something small and furry in his hand.
“Here." He hands out what Jimin recognizes is a dead squirrel.
When Jimin doesn’t move to take it, Yoongi lowers the squirrel to the side with a growl, and proceeds to take his pelt off.
It’s only when he enwraps Jimin with it, that Jimin realizes just how much he's shaking—skin iced, jaw clenched, hands quivering. He hesitantly tugs on the sides to sink further into its warmth when the strong scent coming from the cloth hits his nose.
Yoongi smells of warm spices—mostly ginger and turmeric—and Jimin’s mind short-circuits, making him do the unthinkable.
He tilts his head back and bares his neck with a whimper. A goddamn whimper. A clear act of submission.
Infernally, Jimin panics, realizing the absurdity of the situation. And yet, he can’t stop himself, nor change trajectory. It’s purely instinctual.
Shit, shit, shit.
Yoongi seems dumbfounded, but Jimin can’t quite make out the expression from how far back he’s thrown his head to expose smooth skin. His tummy tingles at just the thought of how defenceless he is right now, naked under another alpha’s pelt, scared and shaking, with his neck bared.
The scent from the alpha opposite him spikes, and Jimin feels a sharp sting on his chin as fingers dig in, pulling his face forward until it's so close to Yoongi’s that he can feel his warm breath on his skin.
Jimin’s eyes, wide as two full-moons, drown in a pair much darker; so dark, Jimin might be staring into the abyss itself.
“You—” Yoongi sounds winded. He snarls and Jimin’s nose gets filled with ginger and turmeric so spicy his eyes water.
Is Yoongi angry or…
The mortification is so intense Jimin almost wishes the beast would come back from the dead and this time, eat him alive.
A strong arm hooks around Jimin’s waist, pulling him off the ground and making the pain in his leg intensify until another loud whimper rolls off him.
Yoongi groans under his breath.
“Why are you such a frail thing?”
Although meant to be poignant, the words somehow sound gentle to Jimin’s ears.
He sinks into Yoongi’s arms and lets himself be half-carried across the woods.
“’m sorry,” is all Jimin manages, although for the first time tonight, he isn’t sorry at all.
Leaning on Yoongi’s arm, Jimin can’t tell how long they walk.
The sun's nowhere near the horizon and Jimin's grateful he’ll get to go back while it’s still dark; that way no one will see how disheveled he is.
What he fails to consider is how the warm hands around him would withdraw as soon as the tree line marking the beginning of compound appears.
He winces at the loss. The pelt covering his shoulders disappears next and Jimin’s yet again hit with the biting cold. He only has time to grab at his thorn underwear to stop it from falling completely, conserving the little pride he has left.
Jimin shrinks down, hating how much weakness he’s shown in the span of just one night.
Yoongi’s eyes travel from his face down to his body for the first time this evening; at least that Jimin is aware of.
The large holes in his underwear show way too much delicate skin and a little bit of the soft turf around his crotch. Jimin desperately thugs at the skimpy fabric to cover the area, but his hands hardly get the job done. He’s flushed all over, and the shivers that visibly run down his body don’t help the pathetic sight.
Yoongi’s jaw clicks.
Jimin shifts his weight to make the alpha look away, because he can’t tell Yoongi to; can’t find the strength to word it. Doesn’t want to, really.
Eventually, Yoongi turns his gaze somewhere over Jimin’s shoulder.
“Don’t mention any of it back there.”
He hands Jimin the dead squirrel—he’d forgotten about it completely—and before Jimin can thank him, the darkness of the woods has swallowed him once again.
Jimin's left blinking, naked, and with a dead squirrel he didn’t catch.
He swears if he were an omega, he'd be leaking slick right now.
Excessive amounts of it.