Chapter Text
There are things in life one simply knows. Things so engraved within us that we don’t even question them.
Among these certainties for Jimin is that he’s an omega and would surely present as one.
His very essence screams it. With a tenderness of heart that can trump even the most obdurate of souls and a slight, delicate 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 Jimin 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 would either be used inappropriately or destroyed anyway.
For once, however, Jimin welcomed the solitude. He didn't want anyone to witness his cries—not just from the natural pain accompanying a first rut, but the utter shock and disappointment in his new status as an alpha.
Painful and extremely lewd is the only way to describe the week spent in the presenting hut. Jimin didn’t want to feel the alpha in him awaken. Didn’t want to see the knot making its first appearance at the base of his length, or experience the pheromones making him agitated and confused.
He wasn’t supposed to be that.
Since then, he went on suppressants hoping to never experience these feelings again.
Suppressant were rarely used—or encouraged—in the pack, but they were allowed if the person was adamant on not wanting to experience their cycle or was hurting too much during it.
Afraid to confess the disdain for his new sub-gender, Jimin went for the latter. For that, at least, the Elders are understanding.
Jimin's pack is not 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 large 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 huts 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. These last two are by far the biggest buildings in compound and the only ones made of stone due to their sheer size.
Up until his presentation, Jimin lived with his parents, still considered a pup. Now, however, he must move into the alpha den.
Although surprised, Jimin’s parents 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 his life.
Jimin’s move to independence is 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 his life, Jimin returns to his room every 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.
Is he supposed to make an omega happy with these attributes?
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 would 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 has 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 in general 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 a little more than challenging. The upcoming hunt, organised 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 important points to consider before the event when a loud thud startles him.
Frozen, he looks towards the source of the sound—the hallway, he thinks.
Slowly, Jimin rises and 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.
He doesn't want to be bothered by the other alphas—now or ever. They 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 young unmated wolves can be.
However, the policy also allows anyone to barge into Jimin’s room at any time even if there’s a general understanding that such an intrusion would be rude and 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 a 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…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 anyways.
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 has 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 is tall and wears a smile that brings cute creases to his eyes.
“Hobi!” He charges at Hoseok. “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 that there are alphas younger than him in the den. He’s the late bloomer here.
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 of it, 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, something mischievous 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, okay?
The alpha’s scent somehow doesn’t overwhelm Jimin, perhaps recognizing his wolf as a friend. And he’d gladly take that now—a friendly face wouldn’t hurt in this crowd.
Jimin nods.
He doesn’t know 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 and was friendly enough, albeit a little tense.
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.
Rookie mistake, Jimin soon realizes.
His eyes clash with darkness.
Jimin stiffens. As if caught in a net cast to catch naïve fish like himself.
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 compared to the average wolf in the hall—and he’s dressed in grim colors. The only contrast is the hint of white chest visible beneath a few buttons on his shirt left casually undone.
Quite frankly, he's intimidating. As if the room belongs to him. Heck, as if all of compound belongs to him.
As if Jimin 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 right back at Jimin.
It’s an odd feeling.
Jimin quickly looks away. His mind can sifter through the confusion later, his attention snapping back to the next words echoing in the hall.
“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 confused 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 repeats. “You can leave the underwear on. No one wants to see you pop a knot.” It’s stern, but with no bite.
Jimin savors a 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, baby alphas. This is your official welcome to your new life in the pack. You’re no longer boys and girls, but men and women,” Namjoon announces. “You’ll have new purpose. And dare I say, more fun.”
Quiet laughter ripples across the hall, and Jimin shudders.
“Tonight, you’ll prove yourselves worthy of your rank. You’ll be 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.” The Lead's voice is sonorous and clear. “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. You'll find out the importance and honor of your rank.” He paces the dais slowly. Authoritatively. “The approaching Big Hunt is your responsibility towards the pack. Tonight’s hunt…tonight’s hunt is 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 among shadows. You won’t even know they’re there. They’re not to help you hunt, ease your fear in the dark, or hold your hand through the night. Their only job is 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 that presentation hut.”
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.
Silence chokes the stiff air, despite the small crowd gathered at the entrance of the den.
A send-off. A secret one at that.
Several naked man and women 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 is going to die tonight. It’s certain.
A nudge at his elbow startles him.
Standing to his side is Namjoon himself. The Lead 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 sharp teeth way too harshly 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 from him. 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 is sure it’s a grin, laughing at him. At his uneasiness, the weakness oozing out of his frail body.
This is his cue to run, because it’s all he can do.
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 deafening 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, but they’re out of anger, not pain.
He was supposed to be in his warm bed now, tucked in scented blankets, peaceful and safe. As every omega should be. Fuck. What genius made life this unfair?
The shadow closes in on him and Jimin is 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, immediately regretting all previous thoughts.
Maybe he does care about remaining alive a little bit after all.
Jimin’s heart skips a few good beats, fists digging into the dirt, preparing 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 is again swallowed by deafening silence.
Jimin looks up and around, still hunched on the ground, body dirtied with soil. His underwear is torn in more places than one.
He recognizes the sharp boulder a few 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, lifting some of the pressure off his shoulders.
Jimin recalls what Namjoon mentioned about being accompanied by seasoned alphas. To keep them from dying—yes, smart.
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. Jimin recognizes him.
Dark eyes stare back at him with unparalleled intensity. He’s wearing all black again, but now his milky-white chest is covered by a heavy pelt.
He looks even bigger from up-close. The man’s frame is so threatening, Jimin’s thoughts 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 large hand grabs his ankle and pulls it up, while the other supports his naked thigh.
Jimin quivers, surprised from the sudden touch.
He can feel the other alpha’s grip tighten and blushes a lively crimson.
For the first time tonight he’s glad for the darkness. It hides the hues of his face.
Jimin doesn’t even know why his body reacts this way. One possibility is that he's never been touched so high up before, so close to where he's most vulnerable. Not when he's practically naked and helpless, and most definitely not by an unknown alpha.
The hand on his thigh feels almost intimate.
The bigger man huffs out a breath, examining Jimin’s wound.
In the moonlight, Jimin can see his face a little clearer—can see just how attractive he is. Though his features still conceal something threatening, there's an unexpected elegance to them.
Jimin jerks back in sudden pain as the man drags a finger around the wound. “Ouch! Don’t—”
“Yoongi. Min Yoongi,” the man introduces curtly, dark eyes boring holes into Jimin’s fragile composure.
“Yoongi,” Jimin repeats. “I—it hurts.”
He forces himself to look at the bloody gash just so he can avoid the other’s 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 to snap out of whatever this is.
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 cold wind and Jimin realizes it’s the beast that had chased him. Yoongi must’ve killed it.
“You have to stand up and go back to get that taken care of,” Yoongi nods down at Jimin’s foot, brows furrowed in what Jimin would like to think of as concern.
He shakes his head ‘no’, because he can’t go back. He hasn’t caught anything and Namjoon said not to come back empty-handed.
As if Yoongi’s read his thoughts, he stands and goes back into the shadows only to return with something small and furry in his hand.
“Here,” he says, handing 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 off his pelt.
It’s only when the heat from the pelt enwraps Jimin that he realizes just how cold he is—skin iced, jaw clenched, hands quivering.
Hesitantly, he tugs on the fur’s corners to sink further into it when the strong scent coming from the warm 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.
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 instinctual. He wants to submit—
Shit, shit, shit, Jimin curses in his mind, helpless.
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, neck bare.
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 saucers—drown in two dark orbs. So dark, Jimin might be staring into the abyss itself.
“You—” Yoongi sounds winded. He snarls and Jimin’s nose is filled with ginger and turmeric so spicy it’s intoxicating.
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.
The pain in his leg intensifies and another loud whimper escapes him.
Yoongi groans under his breath. “Why are you such a frail thing?”
Although the words are meant to be poignant, they 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 really sorry.
Leaning on Yoongi’s arm, Jimin can’t tell how long they walk.
The sun is nowhere near the horizon and Jimin is grateful he’ll get to go back while it’s still dark. That way no one will see how disheveled he is.
As soon as they see the tree line marking the beginning of compound, however, the warm hands around Jimin withdraw and he squirms quietly—more to himself than anything else.
The pelt covering his shoulders disappears next and Jimin’s yet again hit with the biting cold.
Short fingers grab at his thorn underwear to stop it from falling completely, conserving the little pride he has left.
He 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 tonight. 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.
Finally, Yoongi turns his gaze somewhere over Jimin’s shoulder, expression unreadable.
“Don’t mention any of it back there.”
He hands Jimin the dead squirrel—he’d forgotten about it completely—and walks into the darkness of the woods again.
Jimin is left blinking, naked, and with a dead squirrel he didn’t catch.
He swears if he were an omega, he would be leaking slick right now.
Excessive amounts of it.