Chapter Text
Park Jimin, at the tender age of nineteen, was a creature of pure, unadulterated sunshine. With his rosy cheeks, eyes that crinkled into happy crescent moons, and a laugh that sounded like tiny bells, he was the living embodiment of an omega delight. He was currently in his happy place: the Min family’s sprawling kitchen, giggling as he helped Mrs. Min frost a batch of vanilla cupcakes.
His partner in crime, and sole reason for feeling safe in the Min household, was Jungkook. Jungkook, Yoongi's younger brother by a decade, was Jimin's best friend. They were the same age, a fact they used to their full advantage to cause minor, sugary havoc.
"Jimin-ah, if you eat one more spoon of frosting, there will be none left for the cupcakes," Mrs. Min chided gently, her eyes twinkling.
"Sorry, Auntie," Jimin said, not sorry at all, licking his finger clean. "It's just too good. Jungkook-ah, try this!" He turned to smear a dollop on Jungkook’s nose.
Their giggles were abruptly sliced in half by the sound of the front door opening and closing. A familiar, heavy, and utterly terrifying scent of cold mint and sandalwood washed into the house.
Him.
Jimin’s smile vanished. His entire body went rigid. The playful light in his eyes was instantly replaced with sheer, unbridled panic. He dropped the frosting bag onto the counter with a soft plop.
"Hyung's home," Jungkook stated, his voice dropping to a whisper out of respect for the palpable shift in the atmosphere.
Jimin didn't need the announcement. His omega instincts were screaming, a primal alarm bell that had been ringing since he was in diapers. Min Yoongi was home.
His first instinct was to hide. His eyes darted around the kitchen, looking for an escape. Too open. The pantry? Too obvious. Without a word, he scrambled off the stool and practically dove behind a very surprised Mrs. Min, clutching the back of her apron like a lifeline, his tiny hands trembling.
"Jiminie, sweetheart, it's just Yoongi," Mrs. Min said, patting his hand. She was so used to this reaction it was almost routine.
But to Jimin, it was never "just Yoongi." It was Min Yoongi, the alpha. The tall, broad-shouldered, impossibly cool and distant iceberg of a man whose mere presence made Jimin’s flight response kick into overdrive. He didn't remember why he was so scared; it was just a fact of life, like the sky being blue or cupcakes being delicious. Yoongi was scary.
They heard his footsteps approach the kitchen doorway. Jimin held his breath, trying to make himself as small as possible behind Mrs. Min's frame.
Yoongi paused at the entrance, his sharp, feline eyes scanning the room. He took in his brother with a cupcake, his mother with a patient smile, and the head of fluffy, peach-colored hair desperately trying to vanish behind her. He saw the tiny, trembling hands gripping the fabric of her apron.
A faint, almost imperceptible flicker of something—confusion? resignation?—passed through his eyes before they shuttered back to their usual cool indifference.
"Mom," he greeted, his voice a low, raspy baritone that never failed to send a shiver down Jimin's spine.
"Yoongi-yah, you're home early," Mrs. Min said cheerfully, as if there wasn't a petrified omega using her as a human shield. "We're just finishing up the cupcakes for the dinner tonight."
Yoongi gave a curt nod. His gaze lingered for a half-second on the spot where Jimin was hiding before he turned away. "I'll be in my studio."
And just like that, the terrifying presence retreated. The oppressive alpha scent began to fade, and the kitchen felt several degrees warmer.
Jimin finally let out the breath he was holding, slumping against the counter. His heart was still hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
"See? Nothing to worry about," Jungkook said, already stealing a finished cupcake. "He didn't even look at us."
But Jimin wasn't convinced. He was safe for now, but the evening held a dreaded event: a family dinner. Which meant being in the same room as him for an extended period. The thought alone was enough to make him feel faint.
Later that evening, both families—the Parks and the Mins—were gathered around the large dining table, laughter and warm conversation filling the air. Jimin was strategically seated as far from Yoongi as physically possible, with Jungkook acting as a buffer between him and the alpha, who was silently focused on his food at the other end of the table.
Jimin was just starting to relax, nibbling on a piece of kimchi, when Mr. Park cleared his throat.
"So," he began, a wide smile on his face. "We have something wonderful to discuss."
Jimin looked up, curious. Mrs. Min clapped her hands together in delight.
"Yes! We've been talking about it for years, and we think the time is finally perfect," she said, beaming at Jimin and then at her own son.
Yoongi slowly looked up from his plate, a slight frown on his face. He had a feeling he knew where this was going.
Mr. Min nodded, his expression proud. "Our families have been the closest of friends for generations. We thought… what better way to cement that bond than to join our families officially?"
Jimin’s father reached over and patted Jimin’s hand. "We're so happy, son. We've arranged everything."
A cold dread began to trickle down Jimin’s spine. He looked at Jungkook, who just looked confused.
"Arranged… what?" Jimin asked, his voice small.
Mrs. Park smiled, her eyes glistening with happy tears. "Your marriage, Jimin-ah! You're going to marry Yoongi!"
The world stopped.
The cheerful chatter, the clinking of utensils, the warm light—everything dissolved into a high-pitched ringing in Jimin’s ears.
Marry… Yoongi?
His brain short-circuited. He couldn't breathe. His wide, terrified eyes slowly traveled down the length of the table, past the smiling faces of his parents, past a bewildered Jungkook, until they landed on him.
Min Yoongi. His future husband.
Yoongi’s own eyes were wide with shock, his chopsticks frozen midway to his mouth. He looked just as blindsided as Jimin felt.
But Jimin didn't see the shock. All he saw was the cold, intimidating alpha he’d spent his entire life avoiding. The man he hid from. The man whose presence made him want to flee.
Marry him? Live with him? Be near him… forever?
The room began to spin. The faces of his beaming parents blurred into swirling colors. The last thing he saw before everything went dark was the intense, dark gaze of Min Yoongi locked onto his.
A soft thud echoed in the sudden silence of the dining room.
"Jimin!" his mother cried out.
Park Jimin had fainted clean away, collapsing right onto the floor in a heap of sheer, overwhelming omega panic.