Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jimin reckons he must look a bit crazy, talking to himself. 

He’s sitting on the floor across the row of washing machines, glancing up from time to time to see his colourful bundle of clothes tumbling in soapy water. 

He does it whenever he needs a break from the book he’s been reading for the past forty minutes. 

Jimin loves this moment, being by himself at the laundromat, as boring as it can be sometimes. There’s something about disconnecting from the outside world that has him looking forward to the late nights spent by himself, watching the washing machine do its job.

He usually reads, scrolls through social media, sorts his clothes by colour while listening to a podcast—watches the empty street through the glass out front, counts the tiles on the floor, follows the minute hands as they go around the clock hanging on the wall. 

He loves it. That’s why he comes to Choi’s 24h Self-Service Coin Wash only after midnight, when the world is mostly asleep. 

Tonight is one of those nights.

After making sure the cycle is about to reach rinse, Jimin brings his attention back to the book Taehyung lent him earlier in the week. It’s a silly mafia love story, the cringe sort he usually enjoys, but the dumb main character is getting on his nerves in a way that’s making the experience nearly unbearable.

The smut is actually really well written, but the red flags everywhere and the blatant signs of a hidden agenda the main character so idiotically misses makes Jimin screams in frustration, spewing curse after curse at him for not realising something so fucking obvious.

As poor as the plot is, Jimin is actually engrossed in the story. That’s probably why he barely notices the little door bell jingle amidst the soothing noise of washing.

“So stupid,” he hisses at the book. “Can’t believe I’m wasting time reading this shit.”

A loud, uninhibited laugh.

A cute snort.

Jimin most definitely pulls a neck muscle when he whips his head up at the sound, ears ringing with the deliciously sweet sound of that laughter and the little wind that drifts in behind the newcomer. 

Staring at the man by the door, Jimin briefly wonders if he’s been magically sucked into the book, becoming the disposable side character that died a horrendous death to further the hot mafia plot. It’s hilarious, really, how that sweet laugh belongs to what is a quintessential serial killer. 

At least he’s super hot.

The man is tall and handsome, with broad shoulders and lines that tell of a sculpted body underneath the massive, very comfy-looking hoodie he wears. He seems to be in his mid-twenties, maybe a couple years younger. 

Jimin can’t really tell with all that blood on his face. 

Of all the ways he’s ever imagined himself dying, slain in the middle of his favourite laundromat was not in the cards.

“Please make it quick,” Jimin sighs, eyes flicking to the blood stained clothes piled on the little hamper the man carries in his arms. “I’d hate to die in pain.”

He calmly sets the book aside, dusting off his clothes as he stands up slowly. 

“I’m okay being stabbed or strangled,” Jimin tells the stranger, grimacing when his joints pop from sitting for so long. “Just don’t cut my head off or gut me, I think it’d hurt.”

“...What?”

“Actually, mind if I delete some things off my phone first?” Jimin goes on, unlocking his phone. “It’s already embarrassing enough I’m gonna die in shit clothes and second-day hair, I don’t want forensics finding out I was into omegaverse.”

“I’m sorry, what?!”

“They’re gonna search my dorm, won’t they? What if they find my iPad,” Jimin whines, looking up at the boy with wide eyes. “If I give you my address, can you go get it? You can keep whatever you want of my stuff as a souvenir, too. Trophies are usually personal, right? Clothes or something like that? I have some cute jackets, but I don’t think they’ll fit you. Oh, wait. You don’t actually wear them, right? It’s just for keepsake. Well, you can choose whatever you want but don’t take underwear, that'd be gross. Or do you prefer body parts? A lock of hair, maybe? Teeth? Please don’t take my teeth. What if I turn into a ghost? I’m gonna look horrendous with a tooth-gap. Maybe one from the back? That way it won't show in—”

“Ya!” the stranger snaps, silencing Jimin’s panicked rambling. “Just shut up for a second, will you?”

An angry man drenched in blood is a quite scary sight, but Jimin still hears his inner self saying ‘that’s hot’ somewhere in the back of his mind, loud and clear. 

He should really chill out on the dark smut reading.

Silence falls over them like a boulder. 

The stranger blows out an exasperated breath, setting the hamper down while Jimin just stands there clutching his phone, biting his lips to keep himself from saying anything. Or crying. 

“I’m sorry,” the boy says, deceivingly soft eyes searching Jimin’s face. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I apologise. I’m just—I’m extremely confused.”

He looks sweeter like this, with lips jutted out in a tiny pout and brows drawn in what seems to be genuine concern. As if there’s someone completely different beneath the blood and grime. 

“Did I do or say something—was it because I laughed?” the stranger asks, hands hovering awkwardly in front of him.

When Jimin shifts his gaze to his reddish palms, the boy follows, face slowly morphing into absolute horror. He turns to the washing machine right next to him, crouching a bit until the dark round glass reflects his bloodied complexion.

And then, he screams.

It’s comical really, the way his hands fly to his face, smearing the blood along his hairline, fingers getting caught in the matted locks of his hair, some dried blood flaking from the strands. He looks back and forth between Jimin and his reflection, eyes wide in shock, a colourful string of curses spilling from his lips like word vomit. 

The boy's face burns a scarlet shade, as bright as the blood caking his skin, and his growing panic makes Jimin’s tired brain snap out of this fantasy world, everything about their weird encounter becoming ridiculously clear—

It’s September. 

The ‘blood’ all over the stranger is too red, too bright and gooey to be real. Though his face and hair are covered in it, his clothes are mostly clean, just a little bit of what is obviously makeup dirtying the cuffs and collar of his hoodie.

It’s the start of Halloween season.

Jimin smiles, feeling a bit ridiculous for jumping straight into a slasher mindset. “I have wet tissues in my bag,” he finds himself offering at the same time the boy blurts out, “I work at Halloween Nights.”

They stand there in stunned silence, Jimin taking him all in.

Beneath all the fake blood stands what is surely the most beautiful man Jimin’s ever seen. He’s a head taller than Jimin and though the makeup is very distracting, his features start to shine through. He has an athletic build, with a softness around the edges that tells of a more boyish aura. His jaw is sharp, but there’s a bit of roundness to his cheeks that is really cute. Defined brows lay above pitch black doe eyes and a shapely nose, with lips that have a soft curve to them, shaped like an angel’s bow. 

The boy is gorgeous, period. He’s also a scare actor, someone whose job blooms at this time of year. And so Jimin, a certified Halloween enthusiast, finds himself looking at him in a whole new (and inappropriately horny) light.

“Well. You’re really good at your job, then.”

“I’ve—fuck,” the boy groans, covering his flushed face. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. No wonder you thought I was—”

“I think it says more about me than you,” Jimin cackles, watching the boy smear even more fake blood along his hairline. “It’s nice to know I stay relatively calm in the face of imminent death.”

“I’m so sorry,” the boy nearly whines, eyes peeking over the tip of his fingers. “I just came back from dress rehearsal and I was fuming all night because my costume wasn’t ready so I had to practise in my own clothes and now they’re super stained so I came straight here to try and get the blood off while it’s still kind of wet because I really like these pants—fuck, I’m gonna kill Namjoon hyung! I was cleaning off my makeup when he called me in for notes and I guess I got distracted. I’m so used to seeing myself all bloody and sticky these past few weeks I don’t even notice anymore and God I’ve been walking around looking like a—”

He cuts himself off with a wheeze, running out of breath. 

Even his ears are blushing. It’s super cute.

“It’s okay,” Jimin waves it off. “I’m just glad you’re not an actual serial killer. I’d hate to die wearing this.”

The boy gives him a timid onceover, taking in the old hoodie and faded sweatpants, eyes landing on Jimin’s extremely fashionable footwear consisting of a pair of Adidas slippers and baby blue Bonobono socks. 

“Not a cool look for the afterlife, is it?” Jimin jests, trying to forget the fact he looks like a gremlin. “I’m Jimin.”

“Jeongguk.”

“Jeongguk?” Jimin parrots, frowning. “That doesn’t sound too scary. Go for something like ‘Laundry Slayer’ next time.”

That gets a smile out of him. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Jimin shoots Jeongguk a friendly wink, crouching next to his bag to find the wet tissues. 

“Here,” he offers, holding out the packet. “Not sure if they’ll be of any help since you probably use special effects removers and this is definitely not good for your skin, but at least you won’t look like you just bathed in the blood of a virgin.”

Even laced with a little bit of self consciousness, Jeongguk’s laughter is everything. 

“Jesus, don’t do that,” Jimin teases, faking a shiver. “It’s actually scarier when you’re playing nice.”

Jeongguk ducks his head, smiling. He picks one tissue and starts wiping at his neck and cheek, using the reflection of one of the machines to try and find where there’s more of the gory makeup. 

“A little more towards your hairline,” Jimin directs, watching him do it. “To the left—your left. A bit more—no, to the—actually, would you like me to help you?”

Jeongguk stops, looking back at Jimin with that kicked puppy vibe that has him folding instantly, nevermind Jeongguk is a complete stranger. He walks up to him, snatches a clean tissue off the packet and nudges Jeongguk’s elbow, gently turning him around until they’re face to face.

“Never thought I’d be cleaning blood off of someone’s face at 1AM on a random Thursday,” Jimin says, two fingers tilting Jeongguk’s head down as he starts rubbing off the makeup along his eyebrow.

“Sorry I ruined your moment,” Jeongguk teases, holding the small wet wipes packet in one hand, the used ones in the other. “Cursing all by yourself really looked like the perfect late night activity.”

“It’s a 24h coin laundry, what’s the problem coming at this hour?” Jimin defends, rubbing Jeongguk’s cheek a tiny bit harder. “And late night is the best time for some alone time, you know? Self-care.”

“Indeed,” Jeongguk smirks, playing up the double entendre.

“Not that kind of self-care!” Jimin laughs, ignoring the fact he's talking about masturbation while holding a face he’d love to sit on. “There's more to the world than a meeting with your left hand.”

“That includes laundry?”

“You have no idea how healing it is to sit here by myself for a couple hours just listening to the washing machines,” Jimin explains, pushing the used tissue into Jeongguk’s hand and picking a fresh one. “I genuinely love it.”

“I’m sorry a glimpse at Ringmaster kinda ruined it for you.”

“Ringmaster? That’s your character?”

“Yeah. Ring is actually debuting this year, so thanks for the test run.”

Jimin’s “Oh, shut up!” has absolutely no bite to it. 

“Can’t believe I scared you,” Jeongguk’s smile grows into a full blown smirk. “Out of costume, might I add.”

“You literally walked in covered in blood, what was I supposed to think?”

“I’m really that good, aren’t I?” Jeongguk goes on like a little brat, sighing for good measure.

“One more word and I’ll shove these tissues down your throat,” Jimin threatens, the fingers on Jeongguk’s chin tightening their grip in warning.

With another dramatic sigh, Jeongguk shuts his mouth, obediently holding still while Jimin focuses on cleaning the worst of his makeup. His hair is still a mess and his skin is pink all over but at least he’s starting to look somewhat presentable. 

The silence lasts no more than two seconds. 

“Omegaverse, huh?”

“No,” Jimin cuts in immediately. “We are not going there.” 

“Fooled me. I’d never have guessed you’re into wolf porn—mphf.”

Jeongguk nearly chokes on the tissue Jimin shoves into his mouth. 

“If you wanna get out of here alive you better pretend you never heard that,” Jimin grunts, mortified that Jeongguk caught that little bit of confession.

“Bleugh,” Jeongguk spits out the tissue, face scrunched up in disgust at the taste of chemicals. “Ew!”

“Serves you right.”

“We’ve gotta work on your intimidation tactics,” Jeongguk tsks, lips parting into a huge teasing grin. “You sound too embarrassed to be effective. And you can’t get physical with the guests, that’s assault.”

“Oh no, there goes my dream of working at Halloween Nights,” Jimin deadpans, snatching the pack of wet wipes out of Jeongguk’s hand and taking one out.

“A little training and you’d be great at it,” Jeongguk nods, assessing Jimin head to toe. “Could even be a haunt slider.”

“Even with all the training in the world I’d never be as good as Lab Rat,” Jimin shakes his head, cleaning the makeup that’s transferred onto his hand. “He almost made me piss myself last year.”

“You’ve been to Halloween Nights?”

“My friends and I go every year.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Wait—do you think we’ve met before?” Jimin pipes up. “I know the cast is unrecognisable when in character but I wonder if—”

“I don’t think so. I’d make sure you remember me.”

Oh.

Oh.

“You don’t act on main street, then?” Jimin deflects, fighting the blush that insists on creeping up his neck.

“No,” Jeongguk says, taking the used tissue from Jimin’s hand. “I’ve been working as a supporting character at the haunted maze for a couple years now. When auditions for main opened, I signed up. It was fucking brutal, but I got the part. Now I have an actual character, with his own plot and everything.”

The proud lilt in Jeongguk’s voice when he tells of his new character is super sweet. It’s obvious how proud and excited he is, eager to finally act on main street. 

“Working at the maze is awesome, but it’s mostly me going after teenagers or redirecting people who try to use the hedges as a kinky makeout spot. The main street is where the real action happens.”

“I’ll see you in action this weekend, then.”

“This weekend?”

“Mhm. Thanks to a classmate we managed to get tickets for spoiler night, so… kinda looking forward to meeting the Ringmaster,” he explains, bravely holding eye contact. “Properly.”

Future Jimin will look back and think can’t believe you’re flirting this heavily while looking like Barney chewed you up and spit you back out, but Present Jimin chooses to momentarily forgets he’s dressed as the definition of a couch potato and feeds the flirty spark between them until it blooms into a tiny flame.

“Think you’ll be able to scare me?” he asks with a coy smile, rocking on his tippy toes. “Now that I know who’s behind the Ringmaster?”

Jeongguk just smiles, breaking the intense eye contact to gather all the used tissues laying around. He turns, shuffling his feet to the small trash can in the corner to dispose of them, dusting off his clothes as he walks back to the row, picking up his hamper of bloodied clothes. He shoves a hand into his pocket as he does so, sliding a couple coins into the closest available machine.

The silence stretches between them, growing thicker and heavier, Jimin watching his every move. He watches Jeongguk open the door and shove all his clothes inside, watches as he pours detergent and fabric softener into the designated compartments, the swift movement of his fingers as he sets the correct cycle and water temperature.

Jimin observes the way Jeongguk gently closes the door, the way he bends over a bit to look at the panel when there’s that melodic beep and the tell-tale rush of water joins that loud tumbling of a final spin—

“Ack!” he squeals, flinching when Jeongguk fakes an advance onto him, slamming his hand against a washing machine, that haunting metal echo cutting through the tense silence.

“See?” Jeongguk smirks victoriously. “Didn’t even have to try.”

“You fucker! That was a cheap trick and you know it.”

“Don’t get mad, I’m literally paid to jump out of bushes and sneak up behind you. A burst scare is lame, yeah, but it works.”

Jimin huffs, massaging his chest to try and calm his heart. Honestly, he should’ve seen it coming. 

“Need me to help you?” Jeongguk offers, noticing Jimin’s running wash signal the end of the cycle. 

“I’d rather not have you touching my wet clothes,” Jimin rolls his eyes, turning to open the door. 

“I can touch the one that’s dry, then?” Jeongguk drawls, holding one of the transfer baskets as if holding a peace offering. 

Jimin snatches it right out of his hands. 

“Keep it in your pants,” he says, starting to shove the clothes into the basket. “You can’t say stuff like that while looking like this. It’s creepy as fuck.”

“Thought you were into that?” Jeongguk grins, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I’d rather not dignify it with an answer.”

“Definitely into predator roleplaying,” Jeongguk announces pompously, pretending to write it down. “Any other kink I should know of? Are you into Ghostface masks? Cuffs?”

“I can’t believe this kid…” Jimin tuts, unable to control the upward pull of his cheeks. He’s loving this flirty back and forth.

“Kid? What if I’m older than you?”

“Well, are you?”

Jeongguk shrugs, hands going into his pockets. “I’m twenty-five.” 

“Hah! Twenty-seven. Respect your elders.”

“Yes, hyung.”

Jimin would rather not acknowledge the shiver that goes down his spine the moment Jeongguk addresses him so formally. Something about the way he says ‘hyung’, all low and soft, has Jimin’s mind spiralling into very dangerous waters.

“Calvin Klein,” Jeongguk comments, eyeing the boxers Jimin just pulled out of the wash. 

Jimin shoots him a glare, pulling a random item to cover the well-known logo. Jeongguk brings his hands up in mock surrender, looking ridiculously gorgeous with that bloodied face. It’s so unfair.

The minutes drag, Jeongguk watching Jimin transfer his clothes to a dryer one by one, setting it to tumble dry on medium heat. He has that sneaky flirty glint in his eyes, the hint of a dimple appearing on his left cheek the moment Jimin finally turns and gives him his full attention.

“We’re stuck here for well over an hour,” Jeongguk hints suggestively.

Jimin fears his eyes will get stuck behind his head with the way he’s constantly rolling them in Jeongguk’s presence. 

Oddly enough, he actually loves the way Jeongguk aggravates the hell out of him. 

“Don’t even think about it,” he snaps defensively, even if he’d love nothing more than makeout with Jeongguk right now.

“I’m not thinking about anything.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Stop putting words in my mouth—” 

Before Jeongguk even finishes his sentence, Jimin jumps in. 

“Are you usually this shameless?”

“No,” a soft smile replaces the cocky grin. “I’m a bit shy, if you can believe it. So trust me, I’m just as surprised to discover you bring out my inner alpha or whatever.”

“Who says you’re an alpha?”

“I do.”

Jimin finds himself exasperated but also incredibly charmed.

“I’m just teasing you,” Jeongguk goes on, looking down at where Jimin just hit him. Again. “But really, nothing about this feels normal? I don’t know if it’s the jump scare I gave you when I walked in, but I’ve never spoken so comfortably to a stranger—not like this.”

“It’s the late hour. People are more honest and open at night,” Jimin explains. “Especially in a situation like ours, where we’re alone in a bubble while the world outside sleeps, we feel less pressure to conform to societal norms and expectations. We can be ourselves more freely, like little kids who make friends instantly.”

“So you’re saying in truth I’m shameless and just hide it well.”

“I’m saying there is more of an open and honest communication. But yes, you’re probably more of a little freak than you’re letting on.”

“Would you like to find out if that’s true?”

“See? You’re just proving my point.”

“Wouldn’t a hands on assessment be—”

“There is also the fact that,” Jimin continues undeterred, as if the flirty offer didn’t make the butterflies in his stomach start to parkour. “Nighttime naturally offers a sense of intimacy and vulnerability, so we tend to be less guarded and more straightforward.”

“Sounds like you’re reciting an article. That’s hot.”

Jimin huffs, turning slightly away from Jeongguk.

“You’re blushing.”

Jimin is well aware, thank you very much.

“Do I make you nervous, Jimin-ssi?”

One step and Jeongguk is crowding Jimin’s personal space, the air between them growing hot and scarce. 

Jeongguk’s eyes feel infinite, a pool of endless stars in a galaxy and Jimin is eager to drown in them.

He could.

Jimin could lean up and capture Jeongguk’s lips, could slip his fingers into his hair and pull him down until he’s tasting Jeongguk on his tongue. 

But something holds him back.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to pull Jeongguk between his legs and make out until his lips fall off, but there’s something so precious, so innocent about this moment that Jimin doesn’t want to taint it.

As much as he wants to push Jeongguk against the wall and suck his soul out through his dick, Jimin also wants more of this unusual softness, of simply talking to someone to discover all that makes them so unique, of seeing and being seen beyond look and lust, beyond the social mask they’re forced to present. 

Because there he is, looking his worst, and Jeongguk is still attracted to him. Jeongguk is still crowding him, one arm caging him in while leaving the other by his side, giving Jimin an easy way out.

He feels the heat of his stare, feels the desire in the way he looks at his mouth, knows it’s reflection in his own eyes. Because he too is starting to see what lies beneath all that red.

And he loves it. 

Jimin loves how Jeongguk’s hair is a wild bird’s nest, how he still looks scary as fuck. 

He loves the fact he doesn’t really know what Jeongguk looks like barefaced, no matter how much they cleaned off his makeup. 

He knows the real Jeongguk will look different when he’s all clean and fresh, but truthfully Jimin really likes this messy one. So he embraces this vulnerability, knowing Jeongguk is right there with him. He sees it in his eyes, in the way the corner of his mouth pulls up, in the way he inhales softly, standing back up straight.

“How about you tell me all about Halloween Nights?” Jimin proposes, slipping out of Jeongguk’s arms.

“You want me to spill the beans on trade secrets?”

Jimin nods, crossing the row to go sit against the opposite wall exactly where he’d been before Jeongguk arrived. “Come,” he taps the floor beside him. “Tell me everything.”

“What about my NDA?”

“Don’t care. Sit.”

“So bossy,” Jeongguk drags his feet, muttering profanities under his breath. 

“Stop pouting.”

“I’m not pouting,” Jeongguk pushes his lips out into a bigger pout, flopping down by Jimin’s side against the wall. “Happy?”

“Very.”

“Okay. What do you wanna know?”

Jimin brings his eyes to the tumble dryer, watching the clothes spin and spin while trying to choose what to ask first. “Have you been punched in the face?” is what he decides on.

It seems to be the right choice, given Jeongguk nearly falls over in laughter. 

“Fuck yeah!” he hollers, as if being clocked on the job is hilarious.

“Wait—really?”

“It happens,” Jeongguk shrugs, still smiling. “You’re dealing with people overflowing with adrenaline, immersed in a fearful mindset. When you pressure them to a breaking point their fight or flight instinct kicks in and, if you’re not quick on your feet and stay out of ‘strike zone’, you fall victim to a punch or two.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“We have precautions in place for that,” Jeongguk says. “And honestly, it’s usually the person you least expect. The tough looking guys? Crybabies, all of them. The most fragile, sweet looking girl I’ve ever seen? Nearly knocked me out. I had a black eye for a week.”

“What?!”

“She did apologise profusely though,” Jeongguk continues, staring straight ahead. “One of the few that made me break character.”

“What happened?”

“The Fisherman was chasing her down the maze, steering her towards a dead end. I saw them and went through a passageway that would let me catch her first. When I jumped her, she…” Jeongguk mimics the punch, a quick fist crossing the air in front of him. 

“She punched you good.”

“A mean right hook.”

“What happened next?”

“She saw me fold and panicked, remembering she paid good money to get scared and that I’m just a dude doing my job. Jin hyung reached us right after that, and he broke character too. Started laughing like a maniac instead of helping me get up.”

“What an ass.”

“He’s one of my best friends.”

“Oh, so that’s justified.”

“Ya!”

“Did they help you, though?”

“Yes, of course. Jin is one of our seasoned actors, and my supervisor too. We have ways of communicating, you know? Even when in full costume. He immediately called for support, and then staff came to escort the girl back to first-aid to make sure she didn’t break her hand or something, and he took me backstage for assessment too.”

“Were you hurt?”

“I was seeing stars but nothing too serious.”

“That sounds painful.”

“It was, but I wore the bruising like a badge of honour.” 

At Jimin’s questioning glare, Jeongguk elaborates. 

“Getting an extreme reaction like that out of someone is an accomplishment. Like when Hobi hyung first got someone to pee themselves—he’s the Lab Rat, by the way—Namjoon hyung took us out for a BBQ in his honour.”

“You sound like a tight-knit crew.”

“We are,” Jeongguk smiles happily. “We’re friends outside work, too. I mean, I actually started working at the park because of Namjoon hyung.”

Jimin waits, leaving it up to Jeongguk if he wants to tell him that story. By the melancholic shift to the tone of his voice, it sounds a bit more personal than funny anecdotes from work.

In the end, he does.

“I’d just finished my military service,” Jeongguk begins, extending his legs in front of him. “Was working at my parents’ café day and night, not knowing what to do with my life, not sure if I should—”

“Random question. Are you from Busan?” Jimin interrupts, following his lead and extending his legs too, crossing them at the ankles.

“Yeah. How’d you know?”

“You’re slipping. The accent is giving it away.”

“It’s still thick, isn’t it?”

“Not really. I’m from Busan too so it’s easy to spot,” Jimin tells him, knowing Jeongguk is now looking at him. “I came here for university.”

“Oh?”

“Before I elaborate on that, keep telling me how you started working at the park.”

Jeongguk laughs, nodding in agreement. “You’re just redirecting it back to me, aren’t you? Want me to keep talking so you can keep your secrets, huh?”

“You know my darkest secret already,” Jimin grins, nudging Jeongguk’s right with his left foot.

“Oh, you mean the wolf porn on your phone? That doesn’t sound too bad,” Jeongguk teases, nudging Jimin back. “The head of our prosthetics team is a close friend of mine. She has my dental impressions, I can ask her to make me some sexy werewolf fangs if that’s what it takes for us to make out—”

“And you dared say I was the one with a primal kink,” Jimin is quite proud that he managed to conjure a full, cohesive reply. His brain is quite literally short-circuiting right now.

“Redirecting again,” Jeongguk remarks gleefully. “And you’re blushing.”

“It’s the warm lights.”

“What was it that threw your mind into the gutter?” Jeongguk goes on, undiscouraged. “Was it me oh so discreetly suggesting we should kiss or the wolfie dentures?”

Both! Jimin wants to scream at him. 

It suddenly feels like he’s wearing his Chelsea boots instead of these hideous slippers, that he’s all dressed up in the tightest leather pants he owns and that they’re flirting under the flashing lights of a nightclub downtown and not sitting on the floor of Jimin’s favourite laundromat at like 2AM while their clothes spin round and round in their little soapy world.

And Jeongguk is most definitely joking but it doesn’t sound like a joke to Jimin’s inner slut so now his brain is filled with images of Jeongguk with fangs, all bloody and sweaty and oh God, he’s gonna pop a boner.

Jeongguk is grinning at him, clearly enjoying his obvious turmoil—most likely reading his mind, and Jimin wants to either choke him to death or grab Jeongguk’s face and smash their lips together until he tastes nothing but that gross fake blood. 

Then fucking kiss me, is what he wants to say. “Stop pestering me,” is what he ends up saying.

Jeongguk immediately backs off. It makes Jimin want to kiss him even more.

“As I was saying… I was feeling a bit out of it. Guess you could say I was depressed? I mean, I was fucking ecstatic that I wasn’t a soldier anymore, but I was also having a hard time readjusting to normal life after my service.”

“We’ve all been there,” Jimin offers gently. 

“Namjoon hyung kind of forced me to acknowledge and talk about it. When I broke down over the phone he bought a ticket and came down to Busan to see me. It was then he told me about the Halloween gig coming up in a few months, how he could hook me up for some extra cash and how I would be good at it too. It was a seasonal freelancing thingy and I had nothing else to do so I gave it a shot.”

“And here you are, a main character.”

“Here I am. Namjoon hyung introduced me to the crew, and they took me in immediately. I’m so thankful for what he did, coming down to pull me out of that self-pitying hole. Hyung has known me since I was a snotty kid, I knew he was the only one who could give me a wake up call.”

“Childhood friend?”

“Childhood crush,” Jeongguk corrects shyly, playing with his fingers. “I’d just turned thirteen and my cousin took me to one of those underground rap battles after school. Namjoon hyung was one of the rappers in the cypher—the coolest person I’ve ever seen.”

“Did you fall in love right there and then?”

“I did,” he smiles. “You should’ve seen him on stage, he was super cool. Still is.”

“Does he still rap?”

“Yeah, he never left the music scene.”

“Rapper by day, scary monster by night.”

Jeongguk cackles at that. “He wasn’t famous when he started.”

“So the crew has people from fields other than, you know, stage acting?”

“Mhm. Most are full-time actors, dancers or performers off-season, but we have a couple people from different fields who do it because they love the craft.”

“Like your hyung.”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk grins, his face glowing. “He has the time of his life when we spot guests who are his fans—like wearing his shirt, or carrying a keychain—and herd them to him. It's a jackpot.”

“I can’t help but wonder if he’s scared me,” Jimin muses, trying to recall the times he’s been scared shitless at the park, sifting through all the monsters he’s come across during the haunt.

“He definitely did. He’s the General.”

“The General?!” Jimin gasps, sitting up straight. “Holy shit. Holy shit.”

“Yeah.”

“He’s one of the best monsters in the whole show!”

“He is.”

“Wow,” Jimin slumps back, digesting the fact that the actor behind that hannya mask is a famous person. “Please tell him I said he looks hot as fuck in that armour. Like, super hot. And that I genuinely love his character.”

“Already ditching me?” Jeongguk pouts, smiling when Jimin’s fist curls into his sleeve. “Okay, I’ll tell him. He’ll be happy to know that.”

Memories of last year’s Halloween Nights pop into Jimin’s head, flashes of Taehyung’s frightened cries and the growls of a monster in a samurai armour rushing to the front of his mind. 

And along those memories comes a freshly brewed, slightly wicked idea.

“Jeongguk.”

“Mm?”

“If I tell you an easy way to spot my friend on Saturday, can you ask your hyung to go all out on him? Taehyung is terrified of the General. Like, absolutely terrified.”

“That’s so mean,” Jeongguk throws his head back in laughter, hand curling over Jimin’s when Jimin tightens the hold on his sleeve.

“Please,” Jimin whines, shaking Jeongguk’s arm. “I need to get back at him for last year.”

“What did he do?” Jeongguk wonders, squeezing his hand before letting go. Jimin misses the warmth as soon as it’s gone. “Did he ditch you?”

“He abandoned me,” Jimin corrects dramatically, fussing and tossing in a way his knee is now pressing against Jeongguk’s thigh. “Let go of my hand as soon as Lab Rat started chasing us down the sewers. Took me an eon to find him again.”

“Is that why you said Lab Rat had you pissing yourself?”

“Yeah. Once we split he came after me. Had me running for my life.”

“As scared as you were, you probably made Hobi hyung’s night. If a performer smells your fear and you go into prey mode, you’re in for a treat. For us that’s the best kind of guest.” At Jimin’s questioning tilt of head, Jeongguk elaborates. “The runners.”

“They’re your favourite?”

“Yeah. I love a good chase, love getting them to cower in a corner.”

“Psycho-o-o!” Jimin sing-songs with a little shoulder shimmy, earning a little jab on the side for it. 

“That’s the thrill of the job.” Jeongguk nudges him again, playfully tugging at the drawstring of Jimin’s hoodie. “We have to be mean and scary. If we don’t sell the illusion, we’re just weirdos in a costume.” 

Jimin bats his hand away. “I guess you’ll be able to unleash your inner beast now, huh? Now that you’ve joined the main street crew.”

Jeongguk tries to play it cool, but Jimin notices the way his chest expands with pride, the way he fights off a smile.

“I’ve been rehearsing like crazy,” Jeongguk mumbles, picking at a miniscule blood crust on his thumbnail. “I hope it pays off.”

“I’m sure it will.” Jimin retorts, ignoring the way Jeongguk’s weighted gaze makes him feel all giddy and tingly inside. 

“I can’t wait to get someone to piss their pants,” Jeongguk grins from ear to ear, those mesmerising eyes lighting up with a pointed look. Jimin gives him a very dramatic scoff. “Huff and puff all you want, hyung. You haven’t seen me in full costume yet.”

“What’s your plan?”

“Simple. Find you, chase you down and crowd you until you curl up in a ball screaming and crying at me to go away.”

“Sorry to be a party pooper but from what we’ve gathered today, I’ll probably start rambling about how omega heat suppressants not being part of universal healthcare is a violation of human rights.”

Jeongguk throws his head back and laughs. Jimin can’t help but follow him, both dissolving into giggles at the absurdity of it all. It’s so fucking ridiculous.

“Good luck getting me alone though,” Jimin beams. “I’d never willingly break away from the group. That’s the number one rule of surviving Halloween Nights.”

“You’re a seasoned prey, I’ll give you that.”

“Told you. I’m not that easy to catch.”

There it is again, that tension.

It’s everywhere.

In the way their thighs and shoulders are touching, in the way Jimin feels Jeongguk’s chest move with a sharp inhale, in the smiles that drop right away. He feels it in the soft nudge against his knee, in the sweat on his palms, in the growing heat of his cheeks, in the spark of arousal low in his stomach. 

“Did that just trigger your alpha?” Jimin teases in a silly voice, dousing the flame he himself reignited. 

“Your words, not mine.” Jeongguk smiles and, just like that, they settle back into the cosy cocoon the night provides. 

A bubble where the world doesn’t exist, where they can just sit and talk. 

An act, Jimin realises, that is as vulnerable and intimate as sex.

“You’re right, though.” Jeongguk says, going back to the subject. “I usually target the one hiding in the middle of their friends since that’s usually the one that’s scared out of their minds. They give me the best screams.”

“If I quote what you just said people will believe it’s from a psychopath.”

Jeongguk’s beautiful laugh echoes around them once again, a joyful compliment to the laundromat symphony.

It’s odd, really. How relaxed Jimin feels in his presence, how comfortable it is to talk to Jeongguk, how he now finds himself looking for things to say that will get that beautiful laugh out of him, the one that makes his nose scrunch up and twitch like that of a little bunny.

Jeongguk may work as a monster, vicious in his craft to instil fear but, the more they talk, the more Jimin sees the absolute sunshine hidden underneath.

He wants to know more. 

Wants to wipe away more and more of Jeongguk’s layers, just like he did with his makeup. 

So, he asks.

“Does playing the Ringmaster feel too different from a maze monster?”

“I think I’ll only grasp the full extent of it during spoiler night when the guests are there but yeah, definitely.”

Jimin tilts his head, looking up at Jeongguk through his lashes. “Tell me more.”

“In the maze I would only freak people out in my corner, follow them through the paths, play with quick burst scares. The Ringmaster is a fully developed character, with his individual plot and unique mannerisms. It was a lot of work, understanding him to a point I can easily embody what he stands for in the grand scheme of things.”

“What is he like?”

“You’ll meet him Saturday night.”

“Gimme a spoiler,” Jimin protests, going for a rib poke that Jeongguk easily dodges. 

“No.”

“Just one.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“My costume is red,” Jeongguk reveals with a little eye roll. Jimin just stares at him. “What?”

“That’s a shit spoiler.”

“You didn’t specify.”

“I want decent inside info on the Ringmaster.”

“Tough shit.”

Jimin juts his lips into a massive whiny pout, dramatically crossing his arms and shifting so he can give Jeongguk the cold shoulder.

“Are you seriously throwing a fit right now?”

Jimin remains silent.

“Okay, fine.”

Jimin spins back around before Jeongguk even finishes talking, pout gone.

“That’s super manipulative, you know that?” Jeongguk chuckles, clearly amused by the theatrics.

“Spill.”

Jeongguk hesitates for a second, seemingly debating what to say. His eyes flicker all over Jimin’s face, a soft chuckle escaping his lips when he leans into Jimin’s ear as if to tell a secret. 

“J’ai envie de vous embrasser depuis le moment où je vous ai vu,” he whispers, his soft breath raising goosebumps all over Jimin’s neck.

“Wait—What does that mean?”

“Means the Ringmaster speaks French.”

“That’s not what I asked,” Jimin pouts, trying to recompose himself once Jeongguk backs up from his personal space. “What did you say?”

Jeongguk just smiles, eyes roaming all over Jimin’s blushing face. “Vos yeux ont un certain magnétisme, I love it.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying!”

“Tu voudrais venir me rendre visite samedi?” Jeongguk grins like Cheshire cat. “Ne me fais pas attendre, je déteste ça.”

“What does that mean?” Jimin whines, feeling a bit out of it. “Are you making fun of me? Did you say my Bonobono socks are cringy? I already know that!”

Jeongguk just shrugs, looking away to hide his smile. 

It’s as cute as it is absolutely infuriating. 

Jimin grabs him by the arm, forcing him to look his way. “Tell me, right now.”

“I was just describing how to properly wash your clothes on a heavy duty cycle, hyung.”

“Liar! I can see it in your eyes, that’s not what you said.”

“I said you’ll see me in action on Saturday,” Jeongguk says, this time looking Jimin in the eyes. “And that I’m looking forward to it. I want you to meet me as the Ringmaster, too.”

Jimin squints, lip jutted out in a brooding beak. “I’m not convinced.”

“Tu ne comprends rien à ce que je dis, c’est ça? You’ll have to take my word for it.”

“I’m seriously one comment away from choking you.”

“Into choking, huh? That makes two of us.”

“Jeongguk!”

“Sorry, hyung. It’s just—tu rougis même quand je te dis que tu es mignon sans que tu le saches—Ow! I can’t believe you just pinched me!?”

“I should do worse,” Jimin pinches him again. “You keep talking shit I don’t understand.”

“Okay, okay—ow. Okay. I’ll stop, I’ll stop—ow!”

“If it hurts, why’re you laughing?” Jimin taunts with a final pinch on the thigh, loving how Jeongguk’s entire leg twitches.

“J’ai mal ici,” Jeongguk mumbles under his breath, massaging the sore spots. 

“Are you swearing?” Jimin giggles, won over. “It sounds like you’re swearing.”

“No, hyung. C’est mesquin de ta part de parler comme ça, c’est tellement injuste. Oh Jimin, ça me brise le coeur.”

“I got my name out of all that. You’re definitely cursing me.”

Jeongguk can’t contain his smile. “I’m not.”

“How do you speak it so well?” Jimin asks instead, sitting back against the wall. 

If their shoulders touch and neither move away, then it’s just a mere coincidence.

“My mom is of Korean descent but she’s French,” Jeongguk explains. “It wasn’t until she met dad and they came back to Korea some years later that she fully embraced her Korean side. Even though I was born here she taught me French from a young age, said it was good to know a second language. It became a part of me really quickly, since we speak it at home.”

“Your dad speaks it too, I take it?”

“He does, just not as much or as good as me and mom. I drove him mad, badmouthing rude customers in French while I was working at the café. In my defence though, I would also throw some charming words here and there, especially to tourists or old ladies who kept ogling me.”

“Such a flirt.”

“We’ve already established that,” Jeongguk nudges Jimin with his foot. 

“So you incorporated that trait into your character?”

“Mhm. I think that’s what landed me the gig, to be honest.”

“How so?”

“After what felt like a bazillion rounds of auditions, it was down to me and two other guys fighting for the Ringmaster. The board called me in for a one-on-one and I asked if I could go off-script. They let me.”

“And?”

“Well, I gave them my Ringmaster.” 

“What is he like? Besides desperate to get in my pants.”

The smile he gets out of Jeongguk makes the butterflies in Jimin’s stomach feel like they’re on crack.

“He’s loud and boisterous like any circus leader but he’s a horror character, too. A part of the decayed brigade that’s taken over the park—a wandering ghost. He was a man once, with dreams, woes… I bring that into my performance.”

“Ugh, this sounds so cool. Can you tell me one of your lines? Just one?” Jimin begs, wiggling his toes to make Bonobono dance. “Or whatever you said before was part of your script?”

“Nah, that wasn’t a line.”

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Wanna hear me do the Ringmaster or not?”

Jimin responds by turning his upper body towards Jeongguk, looking up at him expectantly. He’s almost drawing blood, biting his lip to keep the giggles from spilling out.

Amused, Jeongguk rolls his neck a bit, lips vibrating in a constant R sound, a throaty grunt slipping through his gritted teeth. 

“What’re you doing?” Jimin’s eyes widen, wrecked by a full body shiver when Jeongguk full out growls.

“Vocal exercise,” Jeongguk hums, in a somewhat normal voice. “I’m not warm anymore and I’ve been rehearsing all day, so I won’t go full out. Let’s keep the full experience for Saturday, mm? Come closer.”

“We’re literally sitting side by side.”

“Let me do it properly, Jimin-ah.”

Well, fuck.

Jimin doesn’t have time to think about the fact Jeongguk just dropped the honorifics when he has just grabbed him by the arm, forcing Jimin to tilt a bit to the side, almost leaning into Jeongguk’s lap. 

“Oof,” Jimin inhales sharply, lids fluttering when he feels the pressure of Jeongguk’s chin on his shoulder, his chest glued to Jimin’s left arm. “Y-You said you can’t touch the guests.”

“You’re not a guest,” Jeongguk whispers, his words tickling Jimin’s ear, rustling the hairs at the base of his neck. “I can’t surprise you like I normally would because you already know I’m here, so I’ll just do a simple cornering.”

Jimin stills.

Jeongguk’s voice already sounds different.

It’s a lower register, deep and growly, with a raspy tone to it. He’s purposefully breathing harder, harsher, the hot puffs of breath caressing Jimin’s cheek like a feather. 

“Salut, mon petit loup.”

That is not Jeongguk.

Jimin freezes, unfocused eyes glued to the clothes spinning, as if he himself has been thrown into the wash. 

He’s soon thrown into darkness, Jeongguk’s free hand shooting up to cover his eyes.

“J—”

Jeongguk shushes him with a growl, pressed so close Jimin can’t fucking move. 

All he can do is fucking sit there and feel the growly hums as they’re born deep in Jeongguk’s chest, the vibrations of his throat so perfectly pressed against his shoulder, the way Jeongguk’s fingers curl tighter around his arm. 

“Pourquoi t’es aussi silencieux, mon beau? Cat got your tongue?”

Jimin regrets asking for a fucking spoiler.

“No.” It’s a miracle he can formulate a single word right now. 

“Oh, it speaks.” Jeongguk whispers wickedly, fingers crawling up Jimin’s arm. “Tu sens comme de l’assouplissant, mais dans le bon sens.”

Curiosity killed the cat and Jimin fucking shot himself in the foot with this. Being nosy backfired and now his heart is racing, but not out of fear.

A dark chuckle resounds around them like a crow’s cry, the cold tip of a nose dragging along the column of his throat, breathing hotly down the soft curve of his jaw.

“You smell different when you’re awake.”

Oh, fuck.

Not even if he’d sewn his mouth shut would Jimin be able to keep that whimper in.

He feels Jeongguk’s mouth split into a ghoulish smile. 

“Is this arousal I smell,” the Ringmaster taunts, inhaling sharply. “Or is it fear?”

Fucking spot on. 

“Tu sens si bon,” Jeongguk drags his nose up into Jimin’s hair, hiding a breathy growl there between the locks. “C’est de la fleur d’oranger, le parfum?”

Jeongguk is good.

Jimin understands now why he got the part.

The hold he has on Jimin is loose enough to escape without issues, but Jimin feels like his arm will rip off at the joint if he dares try. The way Jeongguk presents himself makes Jimin feel shackled to the floor, unable to escape the Ringmaster’s overpowering aura. 

He knows they’re at the fucking laundromat in hoodies and sweatpants, he knows Jeongguk is just toying with him and he’s not in real danger but, deprived of his sight, Jimin’s mind starts playing tricks on him. 

Even without the costume and makeup that makes the Ringmaster, Jeongguk steers him straight into the arms of anxiety.

Jimin can’t even fathom the power he holds when fully in character.

“Now you’re scaring me,” he mumbles, overcome with these weird tremors, cold sweat beading along his forehead.

“Il n’y a rien à craindre.”

“Jeongguk…”

“Oh j’adore le son de ta voix,” Jeongguk sighs, nuzzling Jimin’s neck.

This time, he tells Jimin what it means.

“I love the sound of your voice,” Jeongguk repeats, the hand curled around Jimin’s arm softening its grip, the hand covering his eyes slowly falling down his face, “I wonder how it sounds when you scream for help.”

And then he snarls right into Jimin’s ear, biting hard to make his teeth clash, pretending to pounce. Jeongguk drawing out Jimin’s surprised yelp is the cherry on top of his little skit, Jimin scramming away from him and the boisterous, scratchy laughter of the Ringmaster. 

The bright lights assault Jimin’s eyes the moment he opens them, Jeongguk’s beautifully melodic voice asking “You okay?” over the loud thump of washing machines.

Eyes slowly adjusting, Jimin sees how Jeongguk’s face softens, hands clasped politely between his legs as if he didn’t just slip into a terrifying character.

“That was like, 3%.” Jeongguk says with a satisfied smile. “Are you sure you can survive me on spoiler night? I mean, I can always tone it down once I spot you.”

There’s something so incredibly captivating about him, about the way he can bring to life something so scary and, at the same time, be an absolute sweetheart. Saturday can’t come fast enough.

“Tone it down? You offend me,” Jimin giggles in a mix of awe and nervousness, blood still pumping. “Shit, that was fucking awesome. Literal chills.”

“Thank you,” Jeongguk half bows in a cute mix of shy and cocky.

“Makes me wish there was a ticket that let us consent to being touched, I’d buy it in a heartbeat.”

A pin drop would sound like a bomb after that.

Jeongguk snaps his mouth shut. In the blink of an eye, all that mirth is cut open by a lustful tension that sweeps over the room like a gust of wind.

It seeps through their clothes, clinging to their skin. It burns in the sudden heat in Jeongguk’s irises, in the hesitant fingers curling around the drawstring of Jimin’s hoodie, tugging him closer.

“I’ll call customer service tomorrow and ask them,” Jimin chirps mischievously, fueling it. “Doesn’t hurt to ask, right? Maybe if I lie that it’s my birthday they’ll let—”

“No.” Jeongguk cuts in. “Then the others would all get to touch you, too.”

“What if I like being passed around?” Jimin shoots back, just to get a rise out of him. 

The air around them grows thick, Jeongguk’s hand curling into the front of Jimin’s hoodie in a possessive grip—

A loud beep, followed by the start of a happy tune.

Jimin explodes in a fit of laughter, the heated moment cut short by the washer’s ridiculous end of cycle melody. He shimmies along the cheeky tune of Die Forelle, catching Jeongguk’s hand before it falls from his chest.

“Are you serious?” Jeongguk asks the washer, finally breaking eye contact. “Stupid washer, fais chier.”

Jimin is quite glad for the interruption. 

He was really close to experiencing what omegaverse writers mean by triggered heats.

It’s actually so perfectly timed he can’t help but wonder if instead of being thrown into a slasher universe as he’d previously thought, they were sucked into a stupid college romcom. If that is so, whoever’s writing their story is a little shit.

“Come on,” he laughs at Jeongguk’s crestfallen expression, springing to his feet. “Let’s see if the blood came off your clothes or not.”

It did. Jeongguk grumpily checks for stains but it all seems to have washed away. 

Sulking like a kicked puppy, he quickly slips a couple coins into the dryer, throwing the load inside with more force than needed.

“It’s just a couple items, it’ll dry fast,” Jimin teases, loving seeing the other so irritated. He peeks at the display of Jeongguk’s dryer, his own showing there’s around twenty minutes to go. “Do you want me to keep you company—oh!”

One moment Jimin is staring at the display, the other he’s spun around and pressed against the dryer, caught in Jeongguk’s arms. 

“Just one kiss,” Jeongguk nearly begs, soft breath falling onto Jimin’s parted lips. “You’ve been looking at my mouth like you want to kiss me and it’s driving me insane.”

“I’m looking because you’re speaking,” Jimin defends in a weak murmur, feeling himself go cross-eyed.

“Liar,” Jeongguk smirks, pressing closer.

“I’m just reading your lips.”

“Another lie.”

“You know your puppy eyes are very hard to resist?” 

“Yes.”

“So stop doing it.”

“Non.”

“As much as I’d love to, I can’t kiss you right now.”

“Why not?”

“I look horrendous.”

Jeongguk gives him a shameless onceover. “If this is you being ugly I’m—”

“Stop. I’m literally wearing Bonobono socks and slippers.”

“And?”

“And?!” Jimin pokes Jeongguk’s very hard, very sturdy chest. “I’d like to feel hot and desirable when we make out, thank you very much.”

Jeongguk perks up immediately, lips splitting into that gorgeous smirk once again.

“Oh, so it’s a ‘when’, not an ‘if’.” 

Jimin wants to punch him. 

And sit on his cock for five business days until his ass is sore and so full of cum it feels like a glazed donut.

“Let’s make a deal, then.” he suggests instead, a taunting finger tracing the collar of Jeongguk’s hoodie.

“I’m listening.”

“I’m sure your set has a blind spot—”

“No,” Jeongguk cuts in immediately, unable to hide the amusement behind the frown. “Don’t even think about it.”

“You didn’t even let me finish—”

“I know what you’re gonna say and that’s out of question. As much as it ticks one of my kinks, I’d lose my job,” he huffs, chucking Jimin’s chin. “Besides, it would be the Ringmaster kissing you, not me.”

“What if I wanna kiss him too?”

“I’d say you’re really messed up in the head,” Jeongguk chuckles, head tilting alluringly, “but I’m super into it.”

“Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” Jeongguk asks with those wide innocent eyes, as if he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing to Jimin’s fragile heart.

“Looking at me.”

“That bothers you?”

“It does when you look like you’re barely holding yourself back.”

“I am barely holding myself back,” Jeongguk murmurs, breath caressing Jimin’s cheeks. “My alpha is gonna claw itself out of my chest any second now.”

Jimin caves.

His exasperated groan catches Jeongguk by surprise, and for a moment the flirty mask falls, those doe eyes turning into those of a startled puppy. But then Jimin grabs him by the collar and yanks, close enough to smash their mouths together in a bruising kiss. Their teeth clash, a dull throb reverberating up his skull but Jimin doesn’t give a single flying fuck, loving the pained grunt he gets from Jeongguk. 

He breaks the kiss for a quick moment, just so he can hop onto the washing machine behind him, parting his legs so Jeongguk can wedge himself in between them.

“Fuck,” Jeongguk groans into his mouth, hands flying up into Jimin’s hair, pulling his head back to break the kiss again. “Was not expecting that.”

“Shut up,” Jimin wraps his arms around Jeongguk’s waist, pulling him closer until they’re glued at the hip. “Just shut up and kiss me.”

Jeongguk smiles, “Yessir.”

This time the kiss starts soft, with Jimin letting Jeongguk have the upper hand, caving under the gentle caress on his scalp, feeling the plushness of Jeongguk’s lips coated in the usual sweetness of flesh with a tangy, slightly sour taste of fake blood. 

It’s fucking perfect—the way Jeongguk seems to know how Jimin loves to have his lips bitten, to have that tongue caressing the roof of his mouth, the way he loves hands cradling his face. And Jeongguk does it masterfully, holding Jimin in such a possessive grip all his thoughts come to an abrupt, crashing halt and there’s only Jeongguk, Jeongguk, Jeongguk.

“Fuck,” Jimin tightens his hold on Jeongguk’s hoodie, breaking the kiss for some air. “Can’t believe we’re actually making out.”

Jeongguk smiles, tongue peeking out to run over his already swollen lips. “And you’re wearing your Bonobono socks.”

“And slippers,” Jimin groans. “Did we skip straight into married life?” 

“I surely wouldn’t mind,” is the reply he gets, Jeongguk’s cupped hands pushing Jimin’s lips into a fishy pout. “I think I’d be a breakfast in bed, foot rubs and multiple orgasms kind of husband.”

“Muh-ti-plew?” Jimin asks, his voice coming out all mushy and cute.

“Mhm,” Jeongguk nods, lips grazing the tip of Jimin’s nose before kissing his pout. “I’m even willing to order a custom wolfie mask to quench your omeg—”

Jimin surges into another kiss, silencing him right up. 

He nibbles Jeongguk’s lower lip, his own lips parting invitingly as his hands seek purchase in Jeongguk’s hair, loving the way Jeongguk groans at the sharp tug. 

It’s fucking bliss, the way it doesn’t feel like it’s the first time they’re kissing—meeting, really. 

There’s no trace of that awkwardness of not knowing how the other person kisses, nor that fear of judgement—of feeling insufficient or needing to over-perform. 

It’s as if they’ve been together forever, passion burning with that sense of home, a calm storm instead of a hurricane. 

“Do you feel it, too?” Jimin wheezes, head lolling back, loving the breathlessness that comes with a good kiss.

Jeongguk answers by biting down on his bottom lip, giving it little love nibbles to soothe the sting before his teeth catch and tug, letting it snap back into place. 

“Why do you think I’m using all my French rizz to impress you?” he says, kissing along Jimin’s neck, latching onto the juncture between his neck and shoulder, sucking the sweaty skin and rolling it between his teeth until it bruises. 

“Is that what you were doing?” Jimin sighs, feeling himself turn into goo. “Were you flirting with me?”

“Mhm,” Jeongguk drags his teeth over the fresh hickey, lips resting against Jimin’s jugular as if to feel the erratic pulse underneath, pressing his tongue flat and sinking his teeth in deep.

Jimin yells in pain, tugging Jeongguk away from his neck with wild eyes. “Did you just try to mate me?!”

“Bad alpha,” Jeongguk grins like a goofball, pointing at himself.

That seals it.

They’re literally making out like animals and Jeongguk still finds a pocket of humour, acting like a cute dork who found himself stuck inside a hot jock’s body. By playing into what was supposed to be an embarrassing encounter, Jeongguk turned it into the seeds of a friendship and wormed his way further under Jimin’s skin, taking over his system. 

He’s seen Jimin without any filter, met him toe to toe in a goofy dreamscape, and he still wants him. 

There are no leather pants, no makeup, no styled hair and still, Jeongguk is here, bricked up and panting, kissing Jimin like they’re running out of time.

“God—” Jeongguk startles when Jimin takes a deep breath and dives back in, pulling him down into him and stealing his lips in a rough and possessive kiss that blows the fire into a massive blaze, Jimin’s left hand sliding into the back pocket of his sweats, grabbing the cheek and kneading it like fucking Play-Doh. 

Jeongguk gives back in the same coin—hand sliding to the back of Jimin’s neck, fisting the hair there to pull him impossibly closer.

“Pull harder,” Jimin mumbles breathily into his mouth, the sound lingering on his tongue, fading into another moan when Jeongguk readjusts his fingers into an even tighter grip. 

It fucking stings.

“Fuck,” Jimin revels in the pain, tingles shooting down his spine, this weird submissive electricity racing along his veins when Jeongguk drags his blunt nails up the back of his head to the crown, yanking him out of their lip-lock.

“What have you done to me?” Jeongguk grunts, tugging Jimin’s hoodie up enough to slide his free hand under it, craving the heat of his skin. “I feel like a horny teen making out for the first time—”

“Oh, is the pup presenting?” Jimin pouts wickedly, the most obscene noise slipping out when Jeongguk drags his nails down his stomach in retaliation.

“I think you actually triggered my rut,” Jeongguk shoots back, leaning away just enough to grab the back of his hoodie and yank it over his head. 

Jimin barely has time to appreciate the amount of skin before he’s taken by the throat, Jeongguk reclaiming his mouth. His hands fly to Jeongguk’s naked shoulders, his own blunt nails scratching the well-defined deltoids, feeling them flex under his touch. 

He sort of hates the fact Jeongguk had a tank top hiding underneath.

Jeongguk abandons the kiss to nibble Jimin’s ear, teeth tugging on the lobe, forcing a pitched whine out of him. “Off, off—off,” Jimin keeps pulling on the hem of his tank top until Jeongguk obliges the silent request. 

He doesn’t give Jimin time to appreciate his bare torso though, kissing him with an odd hunger, sucking greedily on his tongue, pulling him by the hips until they’re flush together. And Jimin? He’s a fucking mess, hands splayed on that deliciously strong back, nails leaving pink lines in their wake. 

He’s so fucking horny it’s actually ridiculous. Jimin can barely recognise himself, surprised by the fact they’re in a very public place, with a glass front nonetheless, and all sense of decorum is forgotten somewhere in the back of his mind. 

How can Jimin think of propriety when Jeongguk’s hands go down his thighs, hooking under his knees to bring him closer, swallowing his gasp of surprise? 

How can he think of anything other than his hands taking permanent residency on Jeongguk’s back, or how Jeongguk fondles his ass at the same time he devours his mouth like a famished beast?

“Fuck,” Jeongguk breaks for breath once again, cupping Jimin’s jaw in a possessive grip, thumb pulling at his swollen bottom lip. “Ugh—tu me fous la tête en l’air,” he pants into Jimin’s mouth, hooded eyes staring him down almost reverently. 

Jimin has no idea what that means but it doesn’t fucking matter. Jeongguk sounds just as horny as he does and that speaks for itself.

“No need to waste your French on me,” Jimin half laughs half moans, the rough pull making the slippers fly off his feet and land somewhere he doesn’t care. “You’ve got me already.”

“Would it be better if I spoke English?” Jeongguk grins, teasing a kiss before the tip of his nose travels down Jimin’s neck, goosebumps rising with every harsh breath against his jaw. “Hotter if I said you’re driving me fucking crazy?”

“Show-off,” Jimin shoots back in perfect English, toes curling in pleasure. He feels the smirk against his skin. 

“T’as craqué pour moi, moi aussi j’ai craqué pour toi,” Jeongguk whispers against his neck, mouthing at Jimin’s throat like a starved man, leaving marks that will definitely linger. 

Jimin clings to Jeongguk like a helpless ragdoll, whining wantonly when Jeongguk grabs his ass roughly, guiding the roll of his hips, letting Jimin rub himself against his painfully hard cock through the fabric of their clothes. 

Making out with a complete stranger is something Jimin believed he’d left buried in the memories of his late teens, but here he is, grinding on Jeongguk like an omega in heat, wanting to devour him whole, left dizzy with pleasure and want. 

“I think I’m gonna cum in my pants,” Jeongguk chuckles, dragging his tongue up Jimin’s jaw, blowing cold on the trail of saliva left behind. “No joke.”

He smashes their mouths together before Jimin can say anything, swallowing all the pretty little sounds Jimin makes, rolling his hips more insistently, grinding into him with short thrusts.

“Fuck—me too,” Jimin whines into the kiss, arousal wrenching his guts when Jeongguk’s right hand disappears into the back of his sweatpants. 

His eyes flutter at the touch of skin on skin, breathing into Jeongguk’s mouth, the hand on his ass egging him on, forcing him to let go of all the strangled cries trapped in the back of his throat, Jeongguk’s breathy grunts urging him closer to the edge—

“Please don’t defile my family’s place.”

Jimin and Jeongguk pull apart in panic at the sound of a third voice, heads whipping to the front door where a boy stands with an unimpressed expression that matches his worn out convenience store uniform, clutching a large orange bucket. 

“I-I’m—” Jimin stutters dumbly, a thin string of saliva hanging from his slacked jaw. 

Jeongguk isn’t faring any better, chest heaving so much he’s close to hyperventilating. 

They’re both frozen in place, Jimin’s arms wrapped tight around Jeongguk’s neck, Jeongguk’s hands glued to his ass, all the blood in their dicks rushing back to their heads.

Noticing their speechlessness, the boy shoots them a dramatic eye roll, letting the door fall shut behind him. He’s tall and a bit gangly, as if he hasn’t outgrown all of his teenage features yet, with soft cheeks and pouty lips. The bags under his eyes and the slightly dishevelled state of his hair tell of someone who’s just finished a night shift, no doubt.

“I’ll delete the CCTV,” he says in that annoyed teen tone, beelining for the first washing machine in the left row. 

He calmly sets the bucket down, reaching into his pocket to retrieve a bunch of keys. When neither of them move a single muscle, the boy sighs, gesturing at them flippantly, “Do you mind?”

Jimin and Jeongguk pull apart as if burnt, scrambling away from each other, both burning red with mortification. It’s so fucking awkward. 

They feel the boy watching, as if silently judging the way Jeongguk pulls at the front of his sweats, hunched like a shrimp and rushing around the room in search of his clothes while a bright red Jimin stretches the hem of his hoodie to hide his blatantly obvious erection.

“And please collect your clothes,” the boy gestures at a dryer that’s been playing that irritating end of cycle beep-beep tune. “It won’t stop singing until you do.”

Jimin, who’d been searching for his slippers, rushes to the dryer, yanking the door open to stop the melody. Distracted by their hormones fired up by primitive canoodling, they hadn’t even heard it beep. 

The air is thick with a mix of embarrassment and the bluest of balls, tense and suffocating. 

Jimin sighs, pressing his hands to his cheeks in a futile attempt to stop the blood from colouring them scarlet, turning in time to meet the boy’s judgy gaze as he expertly unlocks and opens the slot of the first machine, dumping all the coins inside the bucket at his feet. 

Teenage Jimin was once caught jacking off by his grandma and somehow this feels way more embarrassing than that. 

In the corner of his eye he sees Jeongguk hurrying back into his clothes, desperately trying to calm his loud panting. 

It’s obvious and awkward and the sounds of the boy collecting coins and the thud thud thud of the tumble dryer still finishing Jeongguk’s clothes has Jimin snapping in embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry,” he cries, cringing at the affected tone of his voice. “I’m so, so sorry. We got a bit carried away, I didn’t think someone would come—still, it doesn’t excuse our behaviour but—it’s probably like, four in the morning by now…”

“Three-ten actually,” the boy corrects with a pointed glance at the clock, pushing the empty slot back into the machine and going for the next, using his foot to drag the bucket closer. He looks up at Jimin, mouth twitching in a fight to hold back a smile. “Breathe, dude. It’s not like I’m gonna call the cops on you or anything.”

Jimin heaves in a breath, startling when a warm, comforting hand settles on his lower back.

“Still, we’re really sorry for it,” Jeongguk says, greeting the boy with a timid “I’m Jeongguk.”

“Choi Yeonjun,” the boy replies, eyeing Jeongguk’s outstretched hand. “I’m not shaking your hand, though. No offence.”

Jeongguk cackles awkwardly, hand disappearing in a second. “None taken.”

Jimin is about to refute and say that yes, it is offensive to be so openly rude when his brain graciously reminds him that that same hand was fondling his bare ass two seconds ago and how this poor boy now has the sight of it inside his pants embedded in his brain.

“I’m Jimin,” he announces randomly, feeling like a complete idiot.

The boy laughs in his face, dumping another slot full of coins into the bucket. “Be glad it wasn’t my parents who walked in on you,” he says, eyes darting between the two of them. “They wouldn’t be so lenient.”

“Thanks,” Jeongguk says on their behalf, steering Jimin towards his dryer. “We’ll be leaving soon.”

“Your clothes aren’t dry yet,” he whispers, watching Jeongguk stop the dryer mid-cycle. 

“They’re dry enough,” Jeongguk waves him off shyly, gesturing for Jimin to start collecting his clothes. 

Now that all washers are off, a heavy blanket of silence falls onto them, broken only by the occasional clink of coins falling into the bucket. They dance around each other, heads down and lips bitten raw to stop the nervous laughter from bubbling out, quickly folding their clothes like two kids who got caught drawing on the walls.

“Stop blushing,” Jimin hisses, snatching his lost slipper from Jeongguk’s hand. As if he himself isn’t shining a bright scarlet.

“I can’t help it.”

“He’s younger than us, probably hasn’t even presented yet,” Jimin jokes in a hush so low Jeongguk strains to hear him. “You’ve gotta assert dominance.”

“I can’t be mean to the pup,” Jeongguk whispers back, fighting off a smile. 

“What a shit alpha,” Jimin goes on, playing into their ridiculous—and seemingly endless—wolfie roleplaying. 

He gets an offended gasp in return. “How dare you say that after I had you moani—”

Jimin clamps a hand over Jeongguk’s mouth, wide eyes flicking between Jeongguk and Yeonjun on the other side of the washer row.

“Shut up,” he grunts, yelping when a warm tongue licks across his palm. He pulls his hand back in disgust, shooting Jeongguk a humongous murder glare that seems to fly right over his head. 

Annoyed and fond and besotted and not knowing what to do with all these emotions, Jimin turns to his tote bag, plucking a sleep t-shirt out of the freshly washed bunch. He holds it out to Jeongguk.

“What’s this?”

“A t-shirt,” Jimin deadpans.

When Jeongguk simply stands there, all doe eyed and confused, Jimin allows himself to smile.

“A murder trophy,” he clarifies, pushing it into Jeongguk’s hand. “From Ring’s first victim.”

Jeongguk stares at the t-shirt in his hand, fingers feeling the fabric, clutching it in a tight fist. He inhales calmly, mouth parting several times with nothing coming out. Jimin expected him to laugh at the joke, to tease him, perhaps shoot him another flirty comment in French—not for him to stand there dumbfounded, avoiding his eyes and blushing like crazy.

“Will I see you again?” Jeongguk asks at last, eyes sparkling with emotion.

“I literally can’t wait for Saturday.”

“You know what I mean.”

Jimin falters, sucked into the vulnerability Jeongguk wears on his face, carrying his heart on his sleeve, looking at Jimin with that sort of joyful expectation that’s slowly being diminished by a brave face awaiting rejection. 

He understands Jeongguk’s fear that this might’ve been just a casual hookup. Jimin would be lying if he said he’s also not afraid that once they step out of this place the magic will dissolve back into reality and whatever they experienced here will be just a fleeting memory. 

So, ignoring the fact Yeonjun is right there with them, Jimin leans up to steal a little fleeting kiss from an unsuspecting Jeongguk. “Didn’t we establish we skipped straight into married life?” he whispers around a grin, watching Jeongguk’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Mated life,” Jeongguk corrects, mouth split in a bunny smile so fucking cute Jimin can’t help it. Fully aware that he’s pushing their luck but feeling too giddy to give a fuck, Jimin steals another kiss—a kiss Jeongguk reciprocates immediately.

“You know too much about the omegaverse to keep giving me shit about it, you know?” Jimin teases with a patronising pinch to Jeongguk’s cheek. The smiles he gets out of him is a fucking ray of sunshine.

“I’m a chronically online z-millennial cusp kid,” Jeongguk defends with an eye roll, carefully placing his gifted tee on top of his clothes. “And there were a lot of people reading monster porn at the coffee shop, even if they loved to pretend it was anything but that. The cute book covers don’t fool me.”

“A well educated man,” Jimin nods, adjusting the straps of his backpack. “I hit the jackpot.”

Jeongguk smiles shyly, a cute little dimple appearing on his left cheek. It’s so fucking cute. 

Afraid he’ll melt on the spot if this goes on any longer, Jimin clears his throat, extending a hand. “Phone.”

Jeongguk hands over his phone without question, Jimin preening at the image on his lockscreen. The wallpaper is a picture of Jeongguk hugging a huge samoyed puppy, grinning around a mouthful of white fur.

“That’s Dal. She’s Yoongi hyung’s pup.”

“She’s super cute,” Jimin hums, sending himself a message to get Jeongguk’s number too.

“She is,” Jeongguk agrees easily, accepting his phone back. “Spoiled rotten by the crew though, so she’s become a princess and annoyingly full of herself.”

“Your friend works at the park, too? One of your fellow scare-actors?”

“Yes,” Jeongguk smirks. “Yoongi hyung plays Scarface.”

Jimin’s jaw drops.

Scarface is one of the oldest and most iconic monsters of Halloween Nights, the deadly vampire having his own little fanbase amongst the die-hard fans of spooky season. Jimin and his friends included. 

Hell, just last night Taehyung sent him a thirst trap edit of Scarface that has like, 20k likes on social media. If it’s bookmarked and saved to Jimin’s phone under a specific folder with other Ghostface and dirty Halloween edits it’s no one’s business.

“The Scarface?” Jimin gapes, blinking dramatically. Jeongguk nods. “You’re friends with the coolest main street monsters, that’s so unfair.”

“Hey!” Jeongguk pouts, pulling Jimin aside so Yeonjun can start collecting the coins from the washer they were standing next to. “I’m gonna be a cool and iconic main street monster, too.” 

Jimin hoists the heavy tote up onto his shoulder, making sure Jeongguk is looking at him when he says, soft and overly dramatic, “You already are.”

Jeongguk averts his gaze, grabbing his own hamper and stalking to the front door to the sound of Jimin’s giggles and Yeonjun’s bored goodbye. He still holds the door open for Jimin though.

“I’m so gonna make you cry on Saturday,” Jeongguk challenges, shivering a bit once they step outside, a chilly breeze rushing past them.

“Of pleasure or fear?” Jimin smirks, wiggling his brows in the least seductive way known to mankind.

“Don’t you start,” Jeongguk nudges him away. “I’m gonna be dead on my feet by the end of spoiler night. I won’t have enough stamina left.”

“Don’t care, we’re going out after.”

“You don’t get it, I’ll be a literal zombie,” Jeongguk chuckles, fighting off another smile. “We have to give it our all, not only because it’s technically the grand opening but it’s also when they shoot most of the promo for the season.” 

“I’ll dress up then.”

Jeongguk’s smile widens, “You have to wear your Bonobono socks.”

“I will,” Jimin retorts proudly, nose in the air. He holds the brave front for two seconds, dissolving into giggles once again. 

They stand there, staring at each other with hearts in their eyes like two fools, not knowing how to say goodbye. 

The street is mostly asleep, just the usual noise of the night mingling with that of Yeonjun shuffling around and the coins falling into the bucket now too heavy to lift. 

Some of the light spills onto where Jimin and Jeongguk stand outside, bathing the left side of Jeongguk’s face in a golden glow. He stands there, looking at Jimin with those beautiful doe eyes that sparkle like little galaxies, clutching his hamper like a shy teen who’s about to confess to his crush and Jimin wants to kiss him stupid. 

He needs to go home and cry and scream into his pillow and recall every single detail of their interaction until he drives himself insane. So, after gnawing his bottom lip raw deciding if a goodbye kiss would be too much, Jimin decides on an equally shy, “I’ll text you?”

“Do you need me to walk you back?” Jeongguk blurts out the moment Jimin takes a step back.

“Oh, no. I don’t wanna inconvenience you,” Jimin shakes his head, readjusting the tote over his shoulder. “The campus is just two blocks away. And it’s late and you’re probably tired…”

“I don’t mind.”

“Okay,” Jimin agrees with a shy smile, not knowing how to say goodbye either.

That’s how they end up at the entrance to the campus Jimin studies at, just two blocks from the laundromat. “This is it,” Jimin says softly, breaking the shy silence they’ve been immersed in the whole way there.

“This is it?” Jeongguk hums, looking up the flight of stairs that lead to where the dorms are.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

More shy, hesitant silence. 

Jimin has had enough. He steals a goodbye kiss, Jeongguk immediately melting into him, a hand coming up to cradle his cheek so tenderly Jimin feels like crying. 

“You never told me what you study,” Jeongguk blurts into the kiss, giving Jimin’s mouth three quick pecks.

“English Language and Literature.”

“Oh. Oh.”

“Stop.”

“That explains a lot—”

“Jeongguk.”

“Do you write wolf porn too?”

“Go away!” Jimin groans, contradicting himself by stealing yet another peck like an insufferable lovey-dovey boyfriend. 

“I will if you let me,” Jeongguk teases, leaving a quick little kiss on the corner of Jimin’s mouth before stepping back. 

“Text me?”

Jeongguk nods, walking backwards with a cute bye-bye wave.

“Watch out!” Jimin shouts in warning, Jeongguk quickly dodging the lamppost with a practised spin. The smug grin tells he did that shit on purpose. 

To the echo of Jimin’s grumbles Jeongguk finally turns to leave, popping an AirPod in for some music, hamper secured under his arm.

Instead of going to his dorm, Jimin stands at the bottom of the stairs for a moment, watching Jeongguk cross the road on his way home, knowing he’s leaving with one of Jimin’s favourite t-shirts, a piece of his heart and his number saved under ‘Husband 🐺’. 

—

Jeongguk texts Jimin to let him know he got home safe. 

He texts him ‘good morning!’, too. 

And if Jimin has to bite a pillow to muffle his squeals when he sends Jeongguk a cocky wolf meme with a cheeky ‘dis u?’ that has Jeongguk sending back a selfie doing that exact same pose, no one needs to know.

They text a couple more times during the day, Jeongguk letting Jimin know he might take some time between replies, busy as he is with it being D-1 until spoiler night. He does send Jimin a teasing picture of his costume around 1 AM—an extreme closeup of some red embroidery that seems to run up a sleeve, paired with a few winking and kissing emojis. 

Two can play that game.

Jimin sends back a POV picture of his recently waxed, properly moisturised, very naked legs to ask if his Bonobono socks are appropriate for spoiler night or if he should go for Pokémon since it’s such a special event. Said socks are barely visible in the picture, his legs extended and crossed and the ankles, pale skin contrasting beautifully with the dark blue bedding. 

Jeongguk’s reply is a lengthy voice message yelling in French. Jimin replays it a dozen times. 

Come Saturday morning, Jimin is the one to wake Jeongguk up with a ‘good morning’ text, wishing him all the best on his big night and promising to send an inconspicuous selfie with Taehyung once they get to the park so Jeongguk can let Namjoon know what he looks like.

Jeongguk’s reply comes much later, when Jimin is out with Taehyung, walking along Yonsei-ro in search of a place to eat before they go back to get ready for Halloween Nights. 

He checks his phone discreetly, immediately clicking off of their chat window lest Taehyung sees the smile the words ‘can’t wait to see you again’ bring onto his face. He hasn’t told him what happened between him and Jeongguk yet. 

So he goes on about the day as if nothing happened, dragging Tae all the way to Doota Mall to get new outfits since it’s their first time attending spoiler night and they gotta look hot. It’s all fine and good, the hangout distracting Jimin from thoughts of Jeongguk until Taehyung catches his attention with an excited “I can’t wait to see the characters debuting this year, I saw the teaser they posted this morning and—”

The memory of Ringmaster snarling in his ear comes to mind, the phantom goosebumps of Jeongguk’s hot breath against his ear while French drips out of his tongue wracking Jimin’s body. He slips.

“Jimin.”

He looks up, cheeks puffed with a bite of his burger. “M’yeah?”

“What was that?” Taehyung shoots, an eyebrow arching up dramatically.

“What was what?”

“That smile.”

“What smile?” Jimin wonders, eyes round and innocent.

Taehyung scoffs, arms crossing over his chest. “Your ‘I’m smiling like a lovesick idiot’ smile. Spill.”

“I didn’t—”

“Don’t even try me,” Taehyung holds a hand up. “I’m your best friend, I know you better than you know yourself.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jimin shrugs, taking another bite of his food for good measure. 

“You met someone.”

Fuck Taehyung and his fucking third-eye. He should ditch school and start a fortune-telling business.

“No, I didn’t.” 

Even to Jimin it sounds like a lie. 

The fact he’s starting to blush under the intense scrutiny isn’t helping either. 

Taehyung doesn’t say anything for a while, sizing Jimin up and down like a predator. 

It sort of makes Jimin want to melt like the cheddar running down his fingertips.

Both customers and staff look over at their table when Jimin’s panicked shrieks pierce the air, flailing and choking the moment Taehyung reaches over and yanks down the collar of his hoodie, exposing the single hickey low on his collarbone Jimin didn’t bother concealing.

“I fucking knew it.”

“Tae! What the fuck—”

“Tell me,” Taehyung demands victoriously, sitting back on his chair. “I need names, places and dates.”

“I’m not telling you anything.”

“Yes, you are.” Taehyung grins, stealing one of Jimin’s fries as if he doesn’t have a handful of them on his own tray. 

They hold a stubborn stare contest, none yielding until Jimin sighs, defeated. 

“Yeah, I am.”

Taehyung drags his chair closer, head propped on his cupped hands. So Jimin tells him about Jeongguk, keeping a few (crucial) details to himself. 

—

The sun has set, only a thin mauve line peeking through the skyline along the Han river. 

Jimin and Taehyung are on their way to meet the others, the heavy traffic on the Olympic highway a telltale sign of the grand night awaiting for them. 

As it’s the night before the start of the season, the entrance to Halloween Nights has been decorated with luxurious banners and spiderwebs, sharp red beams shooting up the sky and a press backdrop for celebrities attending the event. 

“Over here!” a friend spots Jimin and Taehyung, waving them over to the corner where their other classmates wait in line. 

They’re welcomed by a catcall whistle. 

“Damn. Are you going on a manhunt or what?” one of the girls teases at their approach, taking in Jimin’s outfit. “You look ready to fuck one of them monsters.”

“Just because it’s a haunt doesn’t mean I have to dress ugly for it,” Jimin justifies with a sassy wink, whacking Taehyung on the back of the head when he starts laughing like a maniac. 

Truth is, he might have gone a bit overboard.

He’s twenty-seven, as are most of his classmates. They’re older, less pressured by the young mentality of external validation, focusing on having fun rather than if their hair is out of place during the haunt. 

Seasoned prey as they are, their group usually comes in nice but practical clothes, nothing too fancy since they always end the night all grimy and sweaty. It’s their first time getting tickets for spoiler night though, which is a special occasion in itself, so everyone is in much better clothes than last year but Jimin? He looks hot.

He’ll deny it to his dying day, but he dressed to match Jeongguk. 

That little teasing picture of his costume gave Jimin enough information to concoct an outfit that matches the circus theme—black jeans that hug his ass like a glove paired with a flowy low-cut red sweater and silver rings to match the cuban chain around his neck. 

A pair of high Nike Pandas ties up the look, even if Taehyung insisted on the iconic Chelsea boots. Though undoubtedly hotter, Jimin is not going to ruin any of his heels running through dirt, thank you very much. 

He also did his makeup, a haze of brown smoke around his eyes that made them look sharper, a heavy hand of red blush high on his cheeks and a single teardrop rhinestone glued to the underside of his right eye as the cherry on top of a modern pierrot look. 

Jimin’s outfit stands out amongst the others, but he undoubtedly would still turn heads left and right without all the get-up because, after long deliberation with his private council (namely Taehyung), Jimin decided not to conceal the hickeys Jeongguk left on him, eager to see the other’s reaction to the crisp love bite adorning his neck.

So it’s a surprise really, when Jimin’s phone starts ringing with a video call request from the devil himself.

A mean comment about not focusing on work dies on the tip of his tongue once the call connects, brain malfunctioning at the sight of a shirtless Jeongguk smirking at him. He seems to be almost done with his makeup, face pale and gaunt, blood dripping from his hairline all the way to the middle of his chest, eyes blacked out by sclera lenses.

“Fuck.”

Yeah, Jimin shares the sentiment.

“Why are you calling me?” he redirects with an annoyed eye roll, trying not to blush at the way Jeongguk is checking him out so shamelessly, certainly noticing the hickey. 

“You look so fucking hot,” Jeongguk hisses on a sharp inhale, ignoring the question. Even if Jimin can’t really see his eyes through the lenses, he feels the weight of his gaze, the flare of his nostrils, the way Jeongguk licks his lips appreciatively.

“Don’t get hard, you’re gonna pop the stitches on your costume.”

“Love that your first thought is my massive alpha coc—”

“Oh, my God!” Jimin whisper-yells in a panic, covering the speaker a bit. “Shut. Up.”

Jeongguk throws his head back and laughs, high and bright and cute, one hand coming up to try and stifle it. His fingers are painted red all the way to the wrist, thick dark red talons glued to his nails. 

Jimin can’t help but chuckle along, completely won over. He can’t help it. 

The fact Jeongguk took a minute off such a busy night to call him makes the butterflies in his stomach stir again. He smiles like an idiot, even if the fun is at his expense, loving the way Jeongguk’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down, the way his shoulders shake with mirth.

He’s fucked. 

“Why did you call me?” Jimin repeats once Jeongguk has calmed down. He seems to be in a dressing room, lots of mirrors and lights and chaos behind him, people walking back and forth with costumes and wigs and a lot of fake blood everywhere he looks.

“Wanted to see your beautiful face,” Jeongguk declares melodramatically, cringing at himself. 

Jimin pretends to gag. 

“Was making sure you got here safely. It’s much more crowded than expected, noona said a lot of people are trying to get leftover tickets by the gate.”

“A simple text wasn’t enough?”

“Non.”

Jimin scoffs, endeared. “Just say you wanted an excuse to call me.”

“I wanted an excuse to call you.”

This time it’s Jimin who can’t hold back his laughter, Jeongguk’s goofy smile making it harder and harder not to fold completely right then and there. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I am, thanks for noticing.”

“Humble, too.”

“One of my many enticing attributes.”

“Should I add cocksure to the list?”

“Second time you mention cock.”

“Don’t you start—”

“My big bad alpha pheromones call to you, don’t they?”

“You’re never gonna let this go, will you?”

“Nope,” Jeongguk says, popping the ‘p’ with the most annoyingly cute smirk on his lips, turning his head to nod at the staff poking him on the shoulder with a ‘you’re at work’ look. “Anyways, you here? Are your friends with you?”

“We’re here,” Jimin nods, grateful for the change of subject. He can’t think of Jeongguk’s cock right now.

He turns a bit to show his friends talking amongst themselves, discreetly mouthing ‘that’s him’ to Taehyung’s turned back. 

“Tae.”

Taehyung turns around, looking up from the phone in his hand. “Huh?”

“Jeongguk, this is Taehyung. Tae this is Jeongguk.”

“Oh, you’re Taehyung?” Jeongguk repeats his name a bit louder, hand moving a bit offscreen for a second, eyes flicking back and forth between the screen and somewhere to his left.

“Heard of me?” Taehyung smirks, completely oblivious. 

Jeongguk nods, tilting his phone slightly. “All bad things, I promise.”

“As you should. You’ve yet to prove you’re not a psychopath. Or a fuckboy that will break Mimi’s heart.”

“Tae—” Jimin gasps, sending him a pointed look that Taehyung chooses to ignore completely. 

“And you need to pass my best friend screening!”

Jeongguk seems to be having the time of his life, entertaining Taehyung’s bit. “I look forward to it. I only ask for a chance to prove myself a worthy and reliable alpha—”

Jimin pales, vowing to throttle Jeongguk the moment he sees him, Ringmaster be damned. 

Thankfully, Taehyung speaks over him, the alpha comment flying over his head. “Thought you’d have real fangs,” he says, leaning closer to the phone with furrowed brows. 

Jeongguk mirrors his confusion. 

“From the way you mauled Mimi’s neck I thought your teeth—ow, the fuck?!”

“Okay, bye!” Jimin cuts in with a little shout, fingers still pinching Taehyung’s arm, ignoring his pained pout and Jeongguk’s delighted laughter. The call cuts off to the sound of someone else laughing too—a deeper, more growly sound.

Jimin immediately rounds on Taehyung, ready to chew him up.

Taehyung is quicker. 

“Gosh, I love him already,” he announces his approval, rubbing the sore spot where he’s been pinched. “Care to ask if he has a friend who’s equally funny and single?”

“I can ask,” Jimin mumbles noncommittally, tilting his head down to hide a smirk. 

Not only is he looking forward to getting his payback for last year, but from his little stalking of the rapper, Namjoon outside the General costume is entirely Taehyung’s type. Hopefully he’s into dick—and single. 

Jimin is about to pocket his phone when the screen lights up with a notification.

Jeongguk, 6:53PM

i need you in that sweater 24/7

istg my alpha is going nuts

Jimin can’t help but swoon, typing back a response while shuffling along the others as the line starts moving. 

Jimin, 6:53PM

don’t you dare go into rut rn

Jeongguk, 6:54PM

no promises

Jeongguk, 6:55PM

btw namjoon hyung saw your friend

the randa hoodie is a dead giveaway

we can easily spot him

Jimin, 6:55PM

good :)

went out to buy it for the occasion

Jeongguk, 6:56PM

just realised i never really mentioned runch randa did i

Jimin, 6:56PM

no but

it’s not that hard to google namjoon rapper tbh

and you’re all over his insta

Jeongguk, 6:57PM

did you stalk my socials

Jimin, 6:57PM

ofc i did

for a long time actually ;)

Jeongguk, 6:59PM

elaborate on that later

i gotta go but send me a selfie first

make sure we gonna haunt the right people

Jimin, 7:01PM

be honest for once and say you want a picture of me in this outfit

perv

Jeongguk, 7:01PM

i want a picture of you in this outfit 

Jimin, 7:01PM

eye roll emoji

Jeongguk, 7:02PM

did you just type eye roll emoji instead of sending it??

Jimin, 7:02PM

it doesn’t fully grasp the massive rolling of my eyes rn

Jeongguk, 7:03PM

lol 

heart eyes emoji

Jimin is sold. 

Completely gone. Done for. 

Hook, line and sinker.

Jeongguk is a huge fucking dork and Jimin doesn’t know how to fight it. The butterflies in his stomach feel like they’ve snorted three lines of coke and his heart has just put in a request for the brain to start concocting ideas for their future wedding while also brainstorming names for the dog they’re gonna get after they move in together into a little cosy flat around Ikseon-dong.

Within two days Jeongguk has wormed himself inside Jimin’s heart and said ‘I live here now’, set up camp and started roasting some marshmallows over the fire while he’s at it. 

That’s why he pulls Taehyung into a side hug and snaps a selfie, Taehyung smiling his pretty boxy smile and throwing up a peace sign while Jimin goes for the usual wink and pout. And then when Taehyung breaks from the hug to grab some kind of pamphlet being distributed, Jimin snaps another picture. It’s just him this time, from a higher angle that showcases his outfit but still lets him play up the round innocence of his eyes, pink lips slightly jutted out to appear even plumper than they already are. 

And he sends both to Jeongguk.

The reply comes within seconds. 

Jeongguk, 7:13PM

can i set you as my wallpaper

it’s for good luck

Jimin, 7:13PM

dal’s gonna be jealous

Jeongguk, 7:13PM

she loves me

she’ll understand

Jimin, 7:13PM

lemme send you a better one then

for good luck

:)

Before he can let himself overthink, Jimin closes their chat and opens a private folder that has never seen the light of day. He’s not at all into sharing nudes but Jimin does have a few lewd pictures of himself he keeps hidden, usually taken when he’s feeling hot and desirable.

He’s never posted them anywhere nor sent them to a fling, so Jimin doesn’t allow himself to think why the fuck he’s clicking on the most recent in his hottie folder, why said picture is now sitting prettily in his chat with Jeongguk, why he doesn’t hesitate to click send. 

He lets Taehyung steer him up as they move closer to the entrance, eyes glued to his phone and the lack of response from Jeongguk. The read receipt shows Jeongguk has seen it, but the lack of a horny reply or another voice note yelling in French makes Jimin worry he might’ve come across too bold, a million thoughts racing through his mind at alarming speed.

The picture is not necessarily a nude, but it’s very suggestive—a low exposure snap of Jimin kneeling in front of the full-length mirror fixed to his bathroom door, dorm room visible behind him. He has his knees spread wide, bare thighs accentuated by the shadows, the shapely lines of his stomach pulled taut. 

Wearing only a pair of tight boxers and an extremely oversized uni t-shirt, Jimin stares at the lens with half-lidded eyes, hair still damp from the shower, messy strands falling softly over his face. He’s flushed all over, biting onto the hem to pull the t-shirt up, holding the fabric high enough to expose his torso, stretched collar falling off one shoulder.

He’s about to text Jeongguk a lame excuse, maybe even say he sent the wrong one when the chat pings with a new message. 

In the two seconds it takes for the picture to load, Jimin feels his body take what can only be described as a screenshot. His heart stops, his stomach drops and his brain doesn’t know if it should send all the blood up to his face or down to his dick because Jeongguk replied with a selfie of his own.

He’s shirtless, standing in front of what seems to be his bathroom mirror, judging by the towel with red makeup stains on the rack behind him and the mess of toiletries on the sink. 

The warm overhead lights cast deep shadows that highlight his physique, emphasising the golden skin and toned muscles, Jimin’s eyes hungrily following the contours of his bare torso down to the pair of grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. 

His posture is relaxed, one hand holding up the phone while the other adjusts the waistband, thumb slightly hooked under it to pull down just enough to expose the dip of his hip. It’s also pretty fucking obvious Jeongguk is not wearing anything underneath and the sweats are loose enough that the print of his cock is not that visible but it shows enough and Jimin doesn’t know what to do with himself.

So he numbly does what Jeongguk says he was going to do, too. 

He sets it as his phone wallpaper.

For good luck.

—

Jimin is still a bit out of it by the time staff is securing a bright green bracelet around his wrist, scanning his ticket and ushering him forward to be patted down by security. 

He has his eyes glued to the back of Taehyung’s head, willing his brain to shut down the wild fantasies Jeongguk’s selfie has brought to the surface so he can actually enjoy the night without a massive boner.

It’s easy to tone down the horniness and let the excitement of Halloween flood back into his veins when they cross the portal that leads into a haunted realm, heavy fog, eerie sounds and red lights bringing forth spine-chilling thrills. The air is heavy with the promise of an unforgettable night. 

Snapping out of it when he feels Taehyung’s long fingers intertwining with his own, the two of them share an excited smile before Taehyung is tugging Jimin to where their classmates huddles in a corner, faces lit by the glow of flickering red lights, one of them holding open the pamphlet they were all given while in line.

It’s a beautifully illustrated map of the park, highlighting exits, toilets, food court and other attractions branching off of main street.

“Do we follow the main street path or wing it?” one of them asks.

“I wanna check the food court, see if they have dead man’s toes this year as well,” another classmate says.

“I’m kinda hungry, oppa.”

“Should we eat first, then?”

“I’m in!”

“Can we go check the merch store, too?”

Jimin tunes them out, eyes stuck on a particular area that reads ‘Rotting Circus’. 

His first instinct is to ditch his friends and rush to Jeongguk’s set and spend the entire night there but he knows he shouldn’t. It would ruin everything.

He needs to wait, let Jeongguk warm up, enjoy his debut, get a few scares in before he shows up. A little anticipation will do the both of them good. Besides, guests gotta walk through the Cemetery to get to Jeongguk’s set and Jimin will never forgive himself if he misses the General going ballistic on Taehyung. 

So he brings his attention back to the conversation, agreeing to go get a bite before diving into the fantasy. 

“I can’t believe we’re here for spoiler night,” someone says. “Feels grander than last year.”

Jimin lingers in the back with Tae, gaze locked ahead, eager to see what lies beyond the fog.

He’s so distracted by the sounds he doesn’t notice the monster lurking in the shadows—nor the actress beneath the mask who, thanks to a picture circulating in the crew’s group chat, has two very specific victims in mind.

She gets the first scare of the night, screeching a bone-chilling “Tag, you’re it!” in Jimin’s ear, earning a flinch and a high pitched shriek. 

Heart in his throat, Jimin instinctively cowers against Taehyung, watching the actress disappear amongst the crowd to the sound of his friends’ laughter. Another shriek echoes in the distance and it’s like the scary button has been switched on, air filling with panicked screams and delighted laughter.

Adrenaline spiking, Jimin tugs a wide-eyed Taehyung forward, looking up to see more monsters emerge from the fog, bathed in red lights, an air of fun and terror settling over the guests all around them. 

Halloween Nights has officially begun. 

—

Their first stop is the food court.

It took them a while to reach it though, their group targeted by all the monsters they’ve come across. In fact, Jimin’s pretty sure he’ll star in one of the teasers for the season, the promo crew following Bells (one of the most beloved main street monsters) capturing the exact moment she got a genuine scare out of him, popping out of fucking nowhere.

His heart is still racing, leftover adrenaline thrumming under his skin, so Jimin chooses to stand in the middle of their group, happily munching on some dead man’s toes—which is just fries seasoned with salt, paprika and rosemary. 

He’s distracted, watching the sign of the booth closest to them swing in the wind, smiling at the silly Sandwitches when the Fisherman materialises out of thin air right in front of their group.

Jimin chokes on a fucking fry.

“Why are you coughing so much? Pertussis?” the Fisherman asks to the absolute delight of everyone in their immediate vicinity.

“I choked!” Jimin half yells, half laughs. 

The Fisherman hums, suddenly standing eerily still. 

A tiny voice in the back of Jimin’s head reminds him this is one of Jeongguk’s best friends, but all he sees right now is this disfigured creature with white-out eyes, drooling all over himself, a giant hook splitting his cheek open. 

“Your eyes are so pretty,” the Fisherman says in a flat tone, head tilting in a way that makes Jimin’s skin crawl. “Can I have one of them? They’d make good bait.”

And then he’s all up in Jimin’s face, the sudden movement making his friends scatter like roaches. Taehyung included, the fucking traitor. 

“Gimme, gimme, gimme,” the Fisherman chants amidst bursts of manic laughter, crowding Jimin until he’s flush with the side of the booth. “Gimme one of them, gimme, gimme!”

With a brain stuck between seeing the character and the actor behind it, Jimin does the most stupid thing he could’ve done at that moment—he plucks a fry out of the cup and holds it up to the Fisherman’s mouth. 

The actor freezes for a millisecond, the miniscule twitch of his mouth hiding a genuine smile he expertly hides behind another manic laugh, accepting the fry before he darts away, more screams following him.

“This is the best night ever,” Jimin mutters in awe to no one in particular, loving every second of it.

—

As the hours go by, the main street is swallowed by shadowy figures, supporting characters littering the entrance to the sets, a few characters doing their rounds outside their zones to get the footage for the promo just like Jeongguk said.

The online influencers and vloggers with their bright flashes and performative screams sort of kills the vibe a bit, the park’s photographers and videographers standing out like a sore thumb but even their presence can’t stop Jimin from being on edge as the distance between him and the Sewers shortens with each step they take.

“Mimi, you’re cutting the blood flow in my hand,” Taehyung groans, his other hand reaching over to try and pry Jimin’s fingers off his wrist. But Jimin only tightens his hold, eyes growing impossibly wide when sparks fly off in the distance as a shadow slides across the concrete, emerging amidst the fog and the blood-curdling screams that follow.

In a mix of anticipation and absolute horror, Jimin watches the man known as Lab Rat stand from a successful slide, herding the previous group towards the next zone, other rats on their tails—pun intended. 

Jimin heaves in a deep breath when the actor turns with a flourish, the tail under a mangled lab coat slashing like a whip. He’s one of Jimin’s favourite monsters in the whole show. 

Lean and lithe, Lab Rat is quick on his feet, managing to get under people’s legs with powerful slides, pretending to snatch their ankles or crawling on all fours like a fucking creep. His makeup is also stunningly grotesque, the rat-like prosthetics turning him into a maimed animal while keeping some of his human features. 

But it’s the eye contact that always triggers Jimin’s fight or flight. 

Besides Scarface, Lab Rat is the only character that doesn’t wear overly fantastical contacts, his soft brown eyes ironically scarier than bright yellow contacts. 

In a blur of screeches and sparks flying off the metal pads on his knees, Lab Rat advances on them, splitting up their group. 

The others run in different directions, immediately herded into the Sewers by the other rats, Lab Rat himself staying behind, sliding closer to where Taehyung has pulled Jimin aside, half hidden behind some radioactive barrels. He stands up mid slide in a move that shouldn’t have been so smooth, stopping right in front of them. 

Time stops for a second, Lab Rat’s eyes lighting up in recognition when he meets Jimin’s terrified stare dead on. Jeongguk’s voice echoes somewhere in the back of his head, saying the runners are the best kind of guests. 

I want another chase, Lab Rat’s eyes say. 

Accepting the unspoken invitation, Jimin takes a miniscule step to the side, fingers slowly uncurling from their deadly grip on Taehyung’s wrist. He feels the weight of the challenge in the way the character takes him in head to toe, the way he spreads his fingers into weird claws, the way his lips part to reveal a row of bloodied jagged teeth.

“Run.”

Jimin runs.

Both people and lights blur into streaks of colour, wind whipping Jimin in the face as he screams his lungs out, voice filled with fear and exhilaration. Doing everything he can to avoid going down into the tunnels, he ends up running through the outer side of the Sewers, a part of the set he’s never been to before. 

That proves to be a dumb decision because there are much more obstacles and set pieces he has to run around and Lab Rat is catching up quickly because Jimin is shit at cardio and he’s been running for like three minutes and he already feels like coughing up a lung. 

Seeing an opening right ahead, Jimin rounds a corner that seems to lead outside, pumping his arms as he sprints down the narrow path, breath coming in desperate gasps when he realises he’s actually running towards a dead end. 

He stops before he crashes against a wall, the sound of heavy footsteps echoing behind him in that isolated alley.

With a surprised gasp, Jimin realises he’s getting genuinely scared. He glances over his shoulder in time to see Lab Rat stop a good distance away, mouth open in a manic grin.

“Sweetie, does this rag smell like chloroform to you?” he asks around a squeak, holding up the prop. 

Jimin freezes, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he takes in his surroundings in search of a way out. He knows he’s not in any actual danger, that Lab Rat is just an actor, but he can’t help feeling like easy prey right now.

Lab Rat takes a step forward, then another, gaining ground easily and Jimin is a minute away from hyperventilating. 

“Oh, you don’t wanna play?” Lab Rat pouts, stopping next to a fake sewer gate. Jimin wants to answer, wants to feed into the illusion because he fucking loves Lab Rat, but he’s so hyped the words won’t come out. 

Not getting any reaction out of him, Lab Rat clicks his tongue, arm falling to his side. “Fine. I’ll go fetch my friends,” he grins manically, pushing against the wall right over the fake gate. It reveals a secret passageway. “You’re gonna love them!”

Jimin bolts the moment he’s out of sight, not willing to fuck around and find out.

—

Light on his feet, Jimin’s eyes flick between the crumpled map in his hand and the unknown surroundings, frantic in his search for his friends. 

Jimin loves Halloween Nights, he really does. 

He knows it’s all pretend, that it’s just for funsies, but it’s infinitely more terrifying to venture it alone. 

Noticing he’s actually coming through the back of the sets in an area he probably shouldn’t roam as a guest, Jimin tries to find a way to get back inside, nearly tripping in his haste to hide from a staff member leaving through a door that has Cemetery - Access 3 written on it.

Once the man is out of sight, Jimin rushes to it, sliding through the gap before the gate closes completely. Though afraid of getting caught and thrown out on the street, he manages to reach a more central area undetected, crouching behind some tombstones for a little break. 

Breathe in, breathe out. 

Jimin strains to listen for any character nearby but it’s hard with all the noise filling the air. The set itself has a lot of rattling chains and ghoulish cries playing from hidden speakers so it’s hard to separate what’s real and what’s not.

In some intuitive spidey sense triggered by dormant survival instincts, Jimin feels his skin prickling with this looming sense of danger, hating how the surrounding statues seem to watch his every move. 

He looks left and right, the dense fog starting to play tricks on his mind—

“Hi.”

Jimin gives himself a bit of whiplash jerking his head up at the deep, seductive voice, coming face to face with the character he has always shamelessly thirsted for—Scarface. 

The scream dies in his throat.

Scarface leans over the tombstone Jimin has his back pressed against, nearly melting with the set piece as the vampire descends on him like a shadow.

They stand in a little stare contest, the actor holding Jimin hostage without uttering a single word.

Scarface, like the General, is one of the fundamental characters that made Halloween Nights what it is today. An iconic monster and one of the hottest performers in the whole show, Scarface is the only actor who doesn’t wear over the top prosthetics. He has heavy SFX makeup on, of course—a corpse-like paleness enhances his seemingly natural soft features, dentures replacing his teeth with terrifying vampire fangs covered in the same blood that coats the entire front of his regal costume. However, apart from the scar down the right side of his face, slicing him open from forehead to cheek, eye blinded by a white sclera, Scarface comes to life by the actor’s own intimidating presence.

“What’s the matter, sweetie? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he drawls, mouth curling in a cat-like grin. Even upside down he sounds terrifying—perhaps more so. 

There’s something sinister in the way he keeps looking at Jimin, gaze unwavering, as if Jimin's fear is the most delightful thing ever. It probably is.

“Your skin looks so soft,” he comments around a gummy smile, gums and teeth red from whatever shit he’s sipping from the blood bag dangling between his fingers. “Can I lick it? I heard you taste better than the others.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The intense eye contact and the raspy way he says it evoke a very different reaction from Jimin. 

“Sure, y-yeah,” he mutters dumbly, going slightly cross-eyed. He feels trapped in the most delicious of ways, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up the closer Scarface gets, draping himself over the tombstone, breathing harder, ragged and wet.

Spoiler night is an experience Jimin wasn’t fucking prepared for.

“What? Do I have something on my teeth or you just wanna kiss me?” Scarface smirks at an alarmingly turned on Jimin, a bit of bloodied saliva gathering down the corner of his mouth. 

Jimin sort of wishes it would drip onto his face. 

Freaked out by his own thoughts and the impulse to lean up and kiss a fucking actor doing his fucking job, Jimin pushes off the ground with an embarrassed whimper, pulse roaring in his ears as he runs like death itself was at his heels. 

The echo of Scarface’s scratchy laughter follows him. The fucker keeps on calling for him and Jimin hates (loves) it, torn between screaming over his shoulder a classic ‘go away!’ and a more honest ‘please leave me alone, you’re making me gay panic!’.

In the end he just keeps going until Scarface focuses on another guest, crossing paths with some girls running from the Widow, his loud shriek tearing through their own screams when he nearly tumbles into a grave. Pulling himself to his feet in a hurry, Jimin pushes on, the wrought iron of the front fence visible just ahead, the tall spikes of the main gate floating somewhere amidst the fog that covers the entire Cemetery.

Jimin feels himself getting tunnel vision, the bad kind of anxiety creeping in and he needs a moment to reel it in. Diving into a small alcove at the base of one of the tombstone saints, he presses his back against it, head thrown back to alleviate his airways and breathe. 

“It’s okay,” he whispers to himself, tugging the sleeves over his hands to wipe some of the cold sweat off his face and neck. He feels as much a wreck as he probably looks like.

Just breathe, you’re fine, he tells himself. It’s all designed to make you scared, you’re literally getting what you paid for.

Then, a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, a little name popping in his head in a glittery font surrounded by neon pink hearts.

Jeongguk.

He probably told his friends to go all out on him too, the sly fucker.

Jimin feels himself calm down at the realisation, taking deep breaths and looking around with a clearer head. 

It’s not his first rodeo, he knows humans are programmed with fight or flight instincts and his are at an all high, so much so he’s genuinely worried he was gonna punch the next actor to jump out at him. 

Now, much calmer, Jimin gives himself a chance to appreciate the awesome experience he’s being given, taking in the details of the Cemetery. 

He’s never really lingered in the past, usually enjoying the scare when the characters are out in the main street, crossing paths with the General or Scarface when lampposts and direction signs and trash cans and crowded toilets shape an atmosphere that is much less terrifying. 

But here, deep into the Cemetery, Jimin sees how massive it is, tombstones and mausoleums expanding as far the eye can see, spiderwebs and fake greenery hiding backstage doors that help actors materialise out of thin air. 

Leaning forward just enough to check what’s not in his immediate field of vision, Jimin notices he’s really close to the gate. The safety of the main street is finally within reach and he feels himself start to relax just a tiny bit, the not so distant laughter of other guests filling the air around him, some of the lingering terror dissipating with it.

But one should know not to relax within the walls of Halloween Nights.

It happens all at once.

A scream pierces the air, louder than the others. It sounds eerily familiar. 

At the same time Jimin steps out of the alcove, someone runs into him with the force of a train wreck, the both of them collapsing onto the grass in a heap of limbs.

Jimin groans in pain, the person punching the air out of his lungs as they accidentally elbow him in the ribs trying to get back onto their feet. 

Well, he’s found Taehyung. 

“P-Please,” Taehyung whimpers, eyes wide and teary, hands in front of his face as his entire frame is suddenly obscured by the overpowering shadow of the General. 

“Your head will look so pretty with the others in my collection,” the General growls, taking purposeful steps towards Taehyung. He cuts an imposing figure, standing incredibly tall, exuding that aura that commands respect. “Look at me!”

His voice booms over them, loud and strong, echoing across the graves. 

He’s a singer, Jimin’s brain helpfully provides. It’s admirable really, how easily the General projects his voice from the diaphragm, especially carrying that amount of weight on him.

His armour is marvellous, meticulously crafted in a dark blend of lacquered black and decaying ropes, an intricate dragon crest engraved onto the chest and back plate. He’s covered in dirt and grime and blood, dragging his katana across the grass, the long black hair cascading down his back matted and full of leaves.

But it’s his intensity that sells the fantasy—he always looks people in the eye, unblinking, piercing into their defences to see if they’re willing to meet him halfway, immersing themselves in the illusion. And Taehyung? He’s right there with him.

“You’ve been running for so long, aren’t you tired?” the General asks, stopping a couple steps in front of Taehyung, standing otherworldy still.

Jimin discreetly crawls away from them, whipping out his phone to record the scene. 

He nearly breaks it with his little yelp, barely biting his mouth shut the moment he clicks the home button and is met with so much naked skin. He’d already forgotten he’d set Jeongguk’s thirst trap as his fucking lock screen. 

Ignoring the blush it brings to his face, Jimin swipes open the camera app and taps on the red button, recording the moment the General says, “The longer you resist, the more painful the end becomes.”

His words are soft but the sheer aura of death around him suggests otherwise. It’s predator and prey.

Taehyung shakes his head, hands slowly reaching back to find purchase on the feet of the statue behind him so he can stand up straight.

Jimin follows suit, knowing Taehyung is gonna bolt in three seconds. 

“You should be honoured,” the General moves with purpose, each step deliberate, his presence alone makes goosebumps rise on Jimin’s arms too. ‘You’re really fucking good at your job, fuck you!’ he mouths at the General’s back. 

“Every swing of my sword is an offering to the gods of death,” the General continues, moving in a way that makes the gaping slash across his neck ooze, the tusks and horns of his hannya mask dripping with blood. “And the gods are always hungry.”

Taking a step to the side, Jimin puts himself in Taehyung’s line of sight. Their eyes meet over the General’s shoulder and Jimin shouts, “Tae, run!”

In a blur of giggles and tears, Jimin and Taehyung run from the actor, Jimin tilting his phone back to try and capture the General coming after them, a guttural growl vibrating through the very ground beneath their feet, blending with the heavy thump thump of their footfalls on the grass as they’re discreetly herded out of the set.

It’s only when they’re back on main street, leaning against the wall of a random building that they stop, looking back to check if the General is still after them. He’s nowhere to be seen.

“Oh God, I’m gonna barf,” Taehyung grunts in between ragged gasps, head thrown back against the wall, a trembling hand massaging soothing circles over his chest.

Jimin nods in agreement. He too feels out of breath, hunched over with his hands on knees. He looks down at the phone in his hand, stopping the recording that’s now just capturing his shoes.

Taehyung turns his head at the action, fear stricken features morphing into an offended scowl. “Motherfucker, can’t believe you abandoned me!”

“It’s payback,” Jimin grins, pushing his hair back. “For last year.”

Taehyung shuts his mouth mid complaint and stares at Jimin as if his best friend had suddenly sprouted a second head. 

“Payback?! I left you for like two seconds—I’ve been running from the General for twenty minutes!” he yells, grabbing the hem of his hoodie with both hands and fanning himself desperately. 

“Seriously, what the fuck. The rats tried to get me into the Sewers but I fled down the street ‘cause I’m never ever going back down there,” Taehyung rambles in between deep inhales, pushing the sweaty hair away from his forehead. “And I know it’s gonna sound crazy but I swear they started herding me like cattle! I swear to God, Jimin. It felt like they were going out of their way to come at me as if I had a fucking target painted on my back.”

Jimin lets himself fall back against the wall, biting hard onto his lip to stop himself from laughing out loud. If Taehyung so much as glances in his direction he’ll read the truth on his face and he needs a couple more seconds to catch his breath before he’ll have to run again. This time from a pouty bear. 

“Next thing I know I’m standing right in front of him,” Taehyung goes on, eyes scanning their surroundings warily as if the General is gonna pop out from the nearest trashcan. “I know we play into it but—fuck, you have no idea, Mimi. He went all out on me this year, I really thought he was gonna kill me for a second back there. God, that was so fucking awesome. He really made me cry—like, actual tears. I didn’t think he could push me to the limit like that—not gonna lie, it was super hot. Fuck, I might have nightmares. You should’ve seen the way he—I don’t know. He took one look at me and just—”

Taehyung cuts off mid sentence, finally noticing how Jimin is turning blue. The moment their eyes lock Jimin caves, laughing uncontrollably. 

It bubbles from deep in his chest, loud and unrestrained. 

He watches all sorts of emotions flicker through Taehyung’s face as he puts two and two together. It seems he’s decided to settle on pissed.

“You…”

This time, Jimin actually feels like he’s running for his life, dodging characters and guests alike. His muscles start to protest but Jimin pushes through, doing all he can to escape the clutches of one Kim Taehyung who, unlike Jimin, is not shit at cardio.

“This is your doing, isn’t it?!” Taehyung screeches, the most colourful curse words spilling from his lips.

Jimin looks back over his shoulder, nodding victoriously. His gleeful shrieks are absolutely infectious, bringing smiles to the faces of those around them too.

“Park Jimin, you fucking asshole!”

—

After a much needed toilet stop to freshen up and try to look less like a complete mess, Jimin and Taehyung reunite with their classmates. They too look a little worse for wear.

Vatican City is the nickname given to the safe zone in the middle of the park. A place performers can’t cross, usually occupied by those in need of a breather. It’s just a square with a few food stalls, toilets and wide benches in a semicircular wing. It’s also where the merch store is.

While Jimin refuels, demolishing a water bottle and snacking on a blueberry granola bar, Taehyung and the others swap stories, the rest of the group retelling their little adventure inside the maze and the haunted mansion.

Now that he’s stopped running, blood cooling down, Jimin is starting to feel the first few signs of exhaustion settling in. His thighs burn, his feet ache, his makeup is ruined, he has lost the little teardrop rhinestone somewhere along the way and his hair is a mess of sweaty clumps. 

He’s back to looking like a couch potato.

As disappointed as he feels knowing Jeongguk won’t get to see him in full hot pierrot glory by the time they get to the Circus, Jimin doesn’t regret it one bit. He’s having way too much fun.

So while Tae and some of the others go check what’s new at the merch store, Jimin sits back and relaxes, letting his body recover from the ridiculous amount of running he’s done in the past three hours.

From where he’s sitting he has an obscured view of his friends, laughing and chatting, holding t-shirts up to each other, seemingly discussing the new designs inside the store. It’s too far to make out the details but the amount of red and black is promising.

Jimin doesn’t care about checking it right now. He knows he’s gonna drain his bank account coming back several times before the end of the season so he’s truly in no rush. 

Maybe he should just ask Jeongguk to get it for him. Perhaps he has employee discounts.

Two consecutive notifications make the phone in his pocket vibrate against his thigh. The besotted smile brightens his face before Jimin even unlocks the screen to check if it’s really Jeongguk.

It is.

Jeongguk, 10:03PM

i need a plausible explanation 

as to why it’s been three hours

and i haven’t seen you yet

Jimin, 10:04PM

i’m enjoying spoiler night

Jeongguk, 10:04PM

i’m hurt

Jimin, 10:04PM

why are you bothering me

go work or whatever

Jeongguk, 10:05PM

rude???

i’m on my well deserved break

thank you very much

Jimin, 10:05PM

me too actually

eating my lil granola bar

Jeongguk, 10:06PM

i want one :(

Jeongguk, 10:06PM

namjoon hyung is asking if taehyung is okay

he said he fell

Jimin, 10:06PM

nah he’s fine

don’t worry

we’re all a bit bruised but that’s normal

Jeongguk, 10:06PM

oh good

hyung was a bit worried

he went all out on him

Jimin, 10:07PM

yeah he made him cry

it was fucking awesome

he really laid it on thick

tae said he might have nightmares

Jeongguk, 10:07PM

omg what

Jimin, 10:07PM

it means wet dreams

Jeongguk, 10:07PM

lol

Jimin, 10:08PM

yea

Jeongguk, 10:08PM

i would make sure you have nightmares too

if only you came to the circus

:)

Jimin, 10:08PM

stop pouting

it’s unbecoming

i saved the best for last

Jeongguk, 10:09PM

the best for last you say

Jimin, 10:09PM

i take back what i said

Jeongguk, 10:09PM

too late

Jimin, 10:09PM

eye roll emoji

Jeongguk, 10:10PM

heart eye emoji

Jeongguk, 10:12PM

[location attached]

it’s the address to the stage door behind the park

meet me there at one

we gonna go eat after the show

Jimin, 10:12PM

would love to but

i can’t just ditch tae

Jeongguk, 10:12PM

sorry i thought it was implied 

he’s invited

my friends are going too

we always go out to eat after

Jimin, 10:13PM

won’t we be imposing if it’s a crew thing?

Jeongguk, 10:13PM

of course not

it will be my honour to introduce 

my omega and his friend to my pack

Jimin, 10:13PM

can’t believe i kissed you

willingly

Jeongguk, 10:14PM

need i remind you 

it was you who kissed me first

Jimin, 10:14PM

don’t know what you’re talking about

Jeongguk, 10:14PM

it’s okay

i’m here to remind you ;)

Jimin, 10:15PM

EYE. ROLL. EMOJI.

Jeongguk, 10:15PM

yeah you’ll be rolling those eyes soon enough

Jimin, 10:15PM

🖕

Jeongguk, 10:16PM

omg a real emoji

congratulations

Jimin, 10:16PM

middle finger emoji

Jeongguk, 10:16PM

see you soon baby

kiss emoji

“Why are you blushing?”

He called me baby.

Jimin immediately locks his phone screen. “I’m not.”

He called me baby.

“Your face is redder than your sweater,” Taehyung pushes, taking a seat next to Jimin. He has a little merch bag with him.

He called me BABY.

“It’s not.”

“You were texting Jeongguk, weren’t you?”

“Nope.”

“And given how you’re clearly trying not to smile right now he probably said something incredibly corny that’s making you feel all mushy.”

“I’m not.”

Taehyung gags, playing up the theatrics. “You two are nauseating. I can’t even imagine how insufferable you’ll be once you start dating for real.”

“What did you buy?“Jimin asks instead, knowing it just confirms every single one of Kim I'm-a-psychic Taehyung’s suspicions. 

However, instead of biting the bait and showing Jimin every single piece of merch he got while they wait for the others or going back to pestering Jimin about Jeongguk, Taehyung clutches the bag to his chest.

The action presses the translucent plastic against the items, a mass of black and red with a pointy horn and the letters G-E-N becoming somewhat visible under Taehyung’s arm.

Jimin smirks. “Is that a General t-shirt?”

“No.”

“It kinda looks like a General t-shirt.”

“It’s not.”

“It has the same horns and tusks.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Now who’s blushing, huh?”

—

Flickering fairy lights cast eerie shadows on the ground, bouncing off of the colourful oil spill stained deep into the asphalt. 

The fog in the air is dense. The creak of old wood and distant childlike giggles echoing from in between the crates and caravans, the whole place taken by rot and decay.

Given the novelty, the visits to the Circus set are monitored, guests divided into smaller groups to avoid overcrowding. Their classmates decided to wait for the next round, so only Taehyung came along with Jimin, mumbling and whining all the way about how great of a friend he is for third wheeling of his own free will.

His theatrics stop once the notes of a carnival melody fill the air—a sort of whimsical tune stuck in a scratchy loop that hooks everyone in.

Unlike the other sets where monsters crawl left and right, the characters of Rotten Circus observe quietly from the sidelines. Their silent lurking is actually much more terrifying. 

They walk along the crowd, discreetly steering them towards the red tent, beams of light spilling from the holes in the big top. The tent is a giant that looms over the park, an endless row of muted red and white stripes. 

“I’m gonna shit my pants,” Jimin whispers to Taehyung, fighting off the urge to jump like a little excited kid.

The Rotten Circus is an entirely new sector, with new characters and a new plot. As much as they love the world of Halloween Nights, they already know what to expect from it. Here, they’re going in blind. 

Anywhere they look there’s a shadowy silhouette watching them, followed by a creepy chuckle or a muffle laugh. 

“This gonna be so good,” Taehyung whispers back, eyes trained on the open door flap. Sweat builds between their clasped hands, Taehyung’s hold on Jimin tightening that tiny bit more.

Finally inside, the first thing Jimin notices is there are no grandstands. It’s a huge open space, trapeze swings and silks dangling from the roof, animal skeletons and broken podiums on the floor.

A hush falls over the crowd as a character steps out of the shadows, their silhouette sharp against the pale spotlight right in the middle of the ring. 

Ringmaster is, for lack of better word, magnificent.

Red from head to toe, he stands tall and imposing. Drenched in blood. 

His coat is beautifully tailored, sewn with a couple different shades of red velvet. It extends beyond his thighs, with an elegant bright red trimming and scarlet embroidery, the structured front adorned with two rows of buttons. 

Beneath it he wears a waistcoat in a darker shade, intricate victorian patterns swirling over his chest. From a hole on the left side, right above where his heart should be, blood and gore pours, darkening the fabric, running down all the way to his pants and knee-high boots. 

A tall top hat sits askew on his head, as red as his hands. They’re covered in blood too, long red claws protruding from his fingers, curling tighter around the handle of a frayed whip. 

He paces like a caged animal, whip dragging against the floor as he stares the crowd head on.

Jimin can’t see Jeongguk anywhere in those eyes. They’re sharp—a piercing, endless darkness that goes beyond the sclera lenses. 

There’s not a single trace of that overly theatrical persona of a ringmaster, the boisterous larger-than-life symbol ingrained in everyone’s minds. Still, his commanding presence is stunning. 

Jimin drinks him up, heart swelling with some weird pride seeing Jeongguk in his element, finally meeting the Ringmaster he’d spoken so fondly of. It’s like going to a best friend’s theater performance, sitting in the first row to support them.

Jeongguk has all eyes on him. 

The Ringmaster has all eyes on him. 

His aura calls for attention, so much so that few notice the first few signs shit is about to go down; few notice the slight change in the eerie music, in the presence of other actors flanking the distracted crowd, blending in with the shadows. 

After another minute of suffocating silence, the Ringmaster stops under the spotlight, adjusting his hat in a mock salute. He laughs, a low rumbling sound that echoes through the space. His grin is wide—teeth too red, too sharp, as he slowly spreads his arms out.

“Mesdames et Messieurs,” his voice booms throughout the tent. “C’est un honneur d’accueillir de si estimés invités.” 

The words, foreign as they are, flow like poisoned honey. 

Jimin isn’t the only one bewitched.

“Alors, le spectacle va commencer.”

A thick cloud of dust rises from the crack of the Ringmaster’s whip, a deafening guitar riff blaring through the ring like a siren, unleashing the ghastly creatures, the powerful drumming of a rock song echoing throughout the tent, an anthem-like tune that blends beautifully with ghoulish screeches and panicked shrieks. 

Creatures crawl from every corner—clowns staggering into the ring with distorted limbs and messy makeup, stilt walkers dragging fake corpses, trapezists walking on all fours with their entrails dangling on the floor. 

Jimin nearly jumps out his skin when a clown jumps right in front of Taehyung’s face, popping a bright red balloon that pops with a high-pitched noise, revealing the clown’s face distorted in a sickening smile. “Gotcha!”

A burst of maniacal laughter has them running like headless chickens. 

“Run!” Taehyung screams, fingers digging into the back of Jimin’s hand.

They don’t make it two steps before another character materialises out of thin fucking air. 

“Found them,” another clown cackles, smile widening unnaturally. “Found them!”

Jimin and Taehyung change course, losing themselves amongst some taller dudes, using them as shields. It doesn’t work. Not that it would, with both Jimin and Taehyung basically having a target painted on their backs. 

They’re immediately intercepted by another character. A sort of zombie lion hybrid, with bloody lips and a matted mane that gets all up on Jimin’s face, forcing them to take a couple steps back, whispering something unintelligible before retreating into the shadows. 

“What the fuck!” Jimin yells to no one in particular, torn between delighted and absolutely terrified. 

“This set is fucking insane,” Taehyung pants, eyes wide. “With all due respect, your boyfriend is now my favourite actor.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

“Tell him that, then!”

Jimin’s shoulder nearly pops out of place at the sharp tug, Taehyung bringing them to an abrupt stop. 

There, a couple steps ahead of them, is the Ringmaster.

Whip in hand, he stands motionless, holding Jimin hostage with those eyes, entirely transfixed. 

There’s only the heavy rise and fall of his chest, the twitch of his mouth, the shadows behind him stretching and twisting as if they have a life of their own. 

“Et je t’ai enfin trouvé.” Jeongguk’s voice is soft but it carries through the chaos, wrapping around Jimin like invisible hands. “Qu’est-ce qu’il y a? T’as peur?”

There’s no need of a translation to know he’s taunting them but, still, Jimin’s heart is in his throat and he is, quite honestly, a nanosecond away from popping a very inappropriate and terribly ill-timed boner. 

At his lack of response, the Ringmaster’s eyes shift to a frozen Taehyung. 

“M’sieur Taehyung,” he smirks, bowing slightly in a mock salute. “Enchanté.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you said,” Taehyung mumbles, waving him off. 

The Ringmaster smiles. 

He takes one step forward. Taehyung and Jimin take one step back.

“Lâche sa main,” he commands, looking down at their intertwined fingers. “Let go of his hand.”

Jimin barely has time to feel offended, for the second Taehyung lets go of his hand, the Ringmaster pounces, fingers curling tighter around the whip. 

He cracks his neck, an eyebrow arching in challenge.

“Run,” he whispers. “Cours, mon p’tit loup.”

Jimin fucking runs. 

He runs, bumping into several groups, stuttering apologies left and right. People laugh and scream as he passes them by but all Jimin hears is the rush in his ears and the unmistakable tap of boots on concrete, the delighted cackle of the monster at his heels. 

“You can’t outrun me, love!”

Jimin doesn’t dare look back, knowing he’ll crack the second he’s face to face with the man chasing him. He feels more than sees the video crew following them to capture the scene, but he pushes on, playing it up a bit to help Jeongguk get a nice shot of his character in action.

They’re outside now, Jeongguk expertly herding Jimin towards the rows of caravans behind the tent. 

“Avoue, t’adores ça qu’on te coure après, hein?!”

Jimin’s pulse races but he doesn’t stop. He’s probably about to reach the edge of the set by now, using some of the wandering groups as a distraction so he can dive behind some crates, cheeks so flushed the wind bites his sweaty skin.

A heartbeat. Two. 

The sound of a whip cracks through the air nearby, sending shivers down his spine. 

“Enjoying the chase, mon chéri?” The Ringmaster mocks, voice holding a playful edge that makes Jimin smile a little. 

The whip cracks again, so close now Jimin almost feels it—feels him, too. Drawing nearer, the sound of his boots, the air reeking of danger, danger, danger.

“It was… passable,” Jimin teases back, fully aware he’s just exposed himself, knowing Jeongguk is gonna catch him. “I see you forgot to mention the whip.”

“Must’ve slipped my mind.”

“You were rather preoccupied at the time, were you not?” Jimin smirks, raising his voice just a little bit. Something heavy stomps over the crate, the wood reverberating against his back. 

“Ouais, c’est vrai. Tu m’as bien distrait cette nuit-là, Jimin-ssi.”

Jimin looks up and there, leaning over the massive box is the Ringmaster, grinning like a little devil. Those infinite pools in his eyes twinkle under the lights, filled with both malice and an almost possessive desire.

He looks fucking delicious.

But Jimin is not gonna give in so easily. 

He knows he should let Jeongguk scare him and move on to another guest because the boy is literally at work, but he’s just a tiny bit selfish. He wants the Ringmaster, too.

So Jimin scrambles to his feet and runs further down the narrow pathway behind the crates, stopping by a door that looks suspiciously like one of those crew access points he came across at the Cemetery.

“It’s pointless,” the Ringmaster says, voice smooth and low. “Si tu veux retourner sur la place, va falloir passer sur moi d’abord. There’s nowhere to go from here on, love.”

Here the lights are a bit more ‘normal’, casting a soft warm hue over the alleyway where they stand. They’re both a bit out of breath, Jimin more so.

Shrieks and laughter are nothing more than a distant hum now, and in place of another character line, comes a soft, “Look at me.”

Jimin does.

From where he stands, Ringmaster is nothing but a dark silhouette against the bright night, a deadly shadow at the end of the alleyway. With the gait of a panther, he takes measured, calculated steps—one foot in front of the other, whip’s popper making an odd twinkly noise as it drags along.

He keeps looking behind Jimin, just over his shoulder, as if there’s someone behind him. It’s unnerving. 

Jimin knows it’s another cheap trick. He knows. Still, he turns to see and, as expected, there’s nobody there. 

When he turns back, Jeongguk is right in front of him. 

“Are you done running?”

Jimin goes a bit cross eyed, looking up at the boy swept his heart away at a fucking laundromat. 

His heart is pounding—not only from running or the fear of being caught, but from the heady mix of Jeongguk’s hot breath kissing his lips.

He sort of wants to ask if Jeongguk would let him suck him off right then and there. Or if he’ll be ‘kindly asked by staff to remove himself from the precinct’ for monopolising Jeongguk’s attention. 

“Your costume is so fucking hot,” is what he ends up saying.

Jeongguk smiles, pushing closer until they’re chest to chest, crowding Jimin against the wall. 

“Tu trouves?” he murmurs around a cocky tsk, upturning the handle of his whip and using it to tilt Jimin’s head up. 

“You’re not allowed to touch the guests, sir.” Jimin interjects, applying some pressure where the handle connects with his chin until it gives, Jeongguk letting it fall to the floor in a coil of lace and leather.

“But you’re not a guest, are you?”

Jimin brings his hand up between them, showing his bright green admittance bracelet. “This sort of says I am—so, no touching.”

Jeongguk groans, head hanging down between them for a moment before he glances down the alleyway with a more genuine smile. 

“Can’t believe you’re making me break character,” he chuckles in his normal voice.

Jimin pales. Jeongguk is at work you horny swine! he yells at himself. 

“But how could I not break?” Jeongguk clicks his tongue, whispering the words into Jimin’s mouth. “How can I stay in character when you come to me looking so thoroughly fucked out?”

“Stop, stop. You can’t lose your job on your big night,” Jimin argues, though his hands reach out to grab Jeongguk’s jacket, pulling him a little closer. “I’ll never forgive myself.”

“I think I’m gonna risk it,” Jeongguk grins, leaning into the touch.

“What about the cameras following you?”

“I think we lost them,” Jeongguk shrugs, peeking over his shoulder. Jimin hesitates, following his eyes. 

There’s absolutely no one but them.

“Allez mon chéri,” Jeongguk tenderly brushes a strand of hair from Jimin’s forehead, the pointy talon glued to his nail dragging across Jimin’s temple all the way to the corner of his mouth. “Just one kiss.”

“I’ve heard you say that before,” Jimin smirks, letting himself be pressed further into the wall. “Need I remind you what happened?”

“Hm,” Jeongguk hums, grinning like a madman. “I might need you to jog my memory.” 

And then Jimin’s lips are on his, urgent and possessive, filled with that hint of desperation of someone who can get caught any moment now. 

Jeongguk tastes of Gatorade and that same sour tartness from the kiss they shared at the laundromat—that weird taste of fake blood that Jimin is starting to appreciate. 

“Thanks for the reminder,” Jeongguk chuckles as they pull apart, the brim of his hat tapping Jimin’s forehead. “You taste as good as I remember.”

Jimin’s eyes flicker to his mouth, pupils wide and sparkling, and that’s all the invitation Jeongguk needs. He closes the small gap between them, pulling Jimin into a kiss that’s all heat, rushed and soft at the same time, filled with a tenderness that makes Jimin’s heart skip a beat. He moans against Jeongguk’s lips, overwhelmed by that same sensation that’s made him kiss Jeongguk in the first place—the homely warmth that being in Jeongguk’s arms brings to his heart, the comforting embrace that makes him feel safe.

“Sorry,” he pulls back, cupping Jeongguk’s face. “I’m sorry I made you break.”

Jeongguk’s eyes flutter shut at the touch. “I don’t mind,” he leans further into it, turning his head enough to drag his nose along Jimin’s wrist. “Now this night is perfect.”

Even behind the lenses, his eyes hold an unspoken reassurance that he, too, feels it. 

Whatever it is.

He pulls Jimin back in, hands cupping his face a bit awkwardly to try and keep his talons away from him. 

It’s a bit pointless, though. His hands already left quite incriminating smears of red all over Jimin. 

“I’m not out of character,” he declares in between little pecks. “Let’s just say the Ringmaster found the ghost of his lost lover.”

“I’m a ghost now, am I?” Jimin jests, kissing the smile off of Jeongguk’s lips.

Tiny goosebumps flow from the touch on the back of his neck, Jeongguk tracing small circles on the curve of his jaw, mindful of his talons.

“You definitely look the part,” Jeongguk grins, cupping Jimin’s jaw properly, tilting his head until his lips are a perfect fit against his. “Consider applying for a position in my crew next year, will you?”

“Want me to run away and join the Circus?” Jimin’s hands move to Jeongguk’s shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer, dragging his tongue across the seam of Jeongguk’s mouth. 

“Mhm,” Jeongguk nods, nibbling his bottom lip. “Viens, on s’enfuit ensemble—run away with me, hyung. Dis-moi juste oui, et on part.”

“Go where?” 

“Anywhere—everywhere,” he sighs. “Peu importe où, tant que je suis avec toi.”

“You and your French words I don’t understand,” Jimin smiles, running the tip of his tongue along the sharp monster fangs Jeongguk has on. He kind of loves it, actually. 

“Ne cherche pas à comprendre, ressens juste.”

“Mm.”

“So?” Jeongguk smiles, giving Jimin tiny little pecks. “Yes or no?”

Jimin answers with a kiss.

Hot and full of tongue, the sort that leaves you breathless. He could kiss Jeongguk forever. Shut his mind off and get lost in Jeongguk’s lips, kissing until time is meaningless and his entire body is tingling. 

But reality is a bitch and Jimin’s rational brain stubbornly reminds him they’re making out in public, at Jeongguk’s workplace of all places, and that poor Taehyung was left alone to fall into the monsters’ clutches at a wholly new set.

“You need to go,” Jimin groans into the kiss, fisting the front of Jeongguk’s coat. “You’re working.”

“I do,” Jeongguk half nods, not really listening.

“Jeongguk—”

“I know, I know.” His voice betrays how badly he wants to stay. “I’m working.”

He’s about to pull Jimin into another kiss when they both start to pick up some sounds not too far from them, followed by footsteps and a couple male voices.

Jeongguk pulls back immediately, eyes wide in a mix of lust and panic. 

“I need to go,” he whispers, glancing down the alley. 

“You do.”

“I’m the main character, for fuck’s sake,” Jeongguk mutters to himself, shaking his head as if to will away the bubble they’ve immersed themselves into.

Jimin nods and with a last, quick heated kiss, he pulls away. “Okay, go.”

But Jeongguk dives in for another kiss right away, pulling Jimin’s bottom lip into his mouth, worrying it with his teeth. 

“They’re gonna catch us,” Jimin whines, torn between pushing Jeongguk and dropping down to knees to suck him dry right then and there. “Jeongguk—”

Jeongguk tears himself away with a frustrated groan, taking a couple steps back to recompose himself.

“Fuck.”

Yeah, same.

They stare at each other for a moment, both breathing in lungfuls of cool air. Neither comment on the fact they’re both sporting noticeable semis.

Jimin clears his throat. “Not sure if it means anything,” he starts timidly, watching Jeongguk readjust his costume to hide his arousal. “But it was amazing, you know, seeing you in action.”

“What?”

“You,” Jimin says, licking his lips. They taste of Jeongguk. “You’re infinitely cooler than Jeongguk told me you would be, Ringmaster.”

Jeongguk freezes, hand hovering awkwardly over the brim of his hat. 

“I know I made you slip,” Jimin chuckles, making sure to look Jeongguk in the eye. “But you gave me one hell of a chase. You’re really good, Gguk.”

“Oh,” Jeongguk swallows, blinking rapidly. “Thank you. It means a lot, hyung. Truly.” 

“Don’t get sappy now,” Jimin tuts, reaching out to lightly squeeze Jeongguk’s hand. 

“I thought we were the very definition of it?” Jeongguk smiles, unable to hide the emotion in his voice.

“I can only confirm or deny in the presence of a lawyer,” Jimin sing-songs with a cute shoulder shimmy, just to make Jeongguk laugh.

Mission accomplished.

“Come on,” he tugs Jeongguk’s hand, sort of pushing him closer to the staff access door. “Canoodling time is over. Back to being scary.”

Jeongguk nods, fighting off the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

They share one last glance before the goodbyes. Jeongguk stills for a brief second, eyes roaming Jimin’s face before he bursts out laughing, hat nearly falling off his head when he throws his head back and cackles.

It’s cute how his makeup is a bit smeared from the nose down. 

“What? Why are you laughing?”

“Looks like you gnawed someone alive,” Jeongguk manages out, thumb brushing Jimin’s slightly swollen lip. “Oh, I’m making it worse.”

Jimin bats his hand away, reaching up to wipe his mouth. 

“Now you’re making it worse.”

Jimin gives up with a little groan, leaving it be. He’ll find a way to clean it off.

Another noise, this one even closer than before, makes Jeongguk look down the alley again, posture stiff. He inhales sharply, mouth downturned in a frown. “We on for dinner?” 

Jimin smiles shyly. “Of course,” he promises, squeezing his hand one more time. “Now, go make people cry or something.”

It gets another tiny smile out of Jeongguk. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

With a final squeeze, Jeongguk pulls his hand away, taking the warmth with him. Jimin curls his hand to his chest, fist coiled tight to keep the ghost of Jeongguk’s fingers trapped within. 

Jeongguk picks up his forgotten whip, claws wrapping around the handle with a flourish. Not to raise any suspicions, he chooses to go back through the crew access while Jimin runs to the main grounds the same way they came.

“Go,” Jimin encourages with a barely audible whisper, stepping away from the door.

Jeongguk looks back one final time. Jimin doesn’t see an ounce of him there anymore. 

“Vous amuser avec vos amis,” the Ringmaster rasps through gritted teeth, nodding towards the Circus. “Je vais retourner travailler, oui? À bientôt, mon chéri.”

That last one doesn’t need translations.

See you soon, my darling. 

—

A quick make out session backstage shouldn’t have transferred that much makeup onto his skin but perhaps they were a bit more enthusiastic than Jimin previously thought. 

Not only did he unintentionally scare some people on his way back to the Circus’ main grounds, it took him a solid twenty minutes scrubbing his face raw with plain soap to get it all off, hunched over the sink (that exploded on him the moment he turned on the faucet) in one of the park’s toilets. Taehyung laughed so much Jimin genuinely thought he was gonna burst a vein or something. 

That’s how they make their way back to Vatican City—Jimin soaking wet and barefaced, Taehyung falling into a laughing fit every two seconds. 

The air has turned chilly, an icy breeze that seeps through the wet fabric of Jimin’s sweater and, admitting defeat, he drags his feet all the way to the merch store. 

Buying a new top wasn’t in the plans so Jimin very pointedly ignores Taehyung’s delighted cackles as he beelines for a scarlet red hoodie with zero hesitance, arguing that he has no time to be picky when the store is about to close for the night (it’s not). 

He also shoots Taehyung his most murderous glare when the cashier scans the price tag and the words Rotten Circus Hoodie show up on screen, Taehyung shoving his phone in Jimin’s face and recording everything for his ‘birthday posts blackmail’ folder.

At Taehyung’s insistence they end up going back to the Circus, joining the second to last group of the night. Jimin feels a bit self-conscious without the badass makeup and outfit (now exchanged for damp jeans and a merch hoodie), but Taehyung pulls him back into the cheerful mood by taking more goofy selfies and dragging him to the areas where other supporting characters are working. 

The monsters don’t give much chase anymore but they still come at them and it’s the perfect mix of fear and fun to end the night.

They come across Jeongguk a couple more times but, this time, Jimin is the one to pull Taehyung aside before Jeongguk can spot them, choosing to watch from afar. 

He knew Jeongguk was gonna give it his all, could feel it just from the little he’s gotten to know about him. Still, Jimin can’t help but admire him. It’s similar to that flutter of pride he feels whenever Taehyung is praised in class or has one of his papers recommended for publishing by their professors. 

Jimin knows they’re not dating—he met Jeongguk at the laundromat two days ago, for fuck’s sake. He knows it’s probably just the infatuation but he can’t help it. It feels right.

Somehow, it’s as if Jimin has known Jeongguk his entire life, as if they’d been trying to find each other all this time and now everything is back in its right place, each piece of their life puzzle fitting seamlessly to each other.

The humor, the banter, the kisses they’ve shared—it all feels right. 

And Jimin tries, he really does, but he can’t help it. The tears come.

He feels himself grow a bit emotional watching Jeongguk shine, finally having the spotlight as a Halloween monster, giving his all for this big night, finally showing the world the work he’s put into his character.

He’s truly magnificent, spewing French left and right in that deliciously growly voice, cracking his whip, bashing his head into a fake wall and screaming “Your turn!” at a terrified girl that looks a nanosecond away from pissing herself.

Jeongguk carries the Ringmaster with regality, the switching on and off between a poised leader and a lunatic jarring and uncomfortable. It’s unnerving how he stops in his tracks, staring at nothing for a while, pacing calmy before snapping into a complete psycho.

Jimin is equally amazed and turned on.

Once the hour is up, Taehyung brings Jimin back to Vatican City to meet their classmates, none of them wanting the night to end while the last few guests linger near the snacks and drinks. 

Jimin takes that time to relax a bit, zoning in and out while his friends chatter nonstop, playing with the zipper of his new hoodie—up and down, up and down. His mind is somewhere else. 

Things start to die down and guests are slowly drawn to the front gate, Jimin politely dismissing their friends’ invitation for a late night snack at a burger joint nearby.

“Why aren’t we going? I’m hungry,” Taehyung pouts, following Jimin along the sidewalk in the opposite direction.

“Me too.”

“So why the fuck you said we’ve already eaten?” Taehyung drags his feet like a moody toddler. “Are you short on money? You know I don’t mind covering your—”

Jimin stops and turns, tugging Taehyung aside to let some people pass. 

“Why are you smiling like a creep?” Taehyung frowns, taking in Jimin’s gleeful expression.

“Jeongguk said we’re going out for dinner.”

Taehyung scoffs. “And why the fuck are you making me tag along? I’m not gonna third-wheel while you two eyefuck each other—”

“Oh, shut up. His friends will be there, too.”

“Friends as in…”

“The Halloween Nights cast,” Jimin nods. “Just his closest friends, though. Fisherman,” he announces cheekily, counting on his fingers. “And Scarface. And Lab Rat, of course. I think the General will be there, too…” 

Taehyung holds up a hand. “Wait. What?!”

—

The stage door is a discreet loading gate trapped between a never ending concrete wall to one side and Jamsil-ro to the other. It looks very private, very ‘authorised personnel only’ and Jimin is extremely intimidated by the flurry of workers leaving in small groups at the end of their shift. 

Taehyung keeps shifting from foot to foot, arms crossed over his chest. They wait across the street, huddled together in a bubble of discomfort.

“Stop fidgeting,” Jimin hisses, as if he’s not about to carve a hole on the pavement himself. 

It’s so fucking obvious they don’t belong there—not with Jimin decked in a scarlet red Circus hoodie (his damp sweater in a shopping bag he clutches like a lifeline) and Taehyung holding a merch bag that seems to have become a bright neon since they got there, the words Halloween Nights shining brighter than an Imalent MS32.

“We look like sasaengs,” Taehyung grumbles under his breath, tugging the hood up for the umpteenth time. 

There are, in fact, quite a few fans by the stage door, holding posters and whatnot. They stay clear of them.

“Stop pulling the hood up,” Jimin grunts, pushing it off his head. “And don’t hunch, it looks like you’re gonna mug someone.”

“I’d rather look like a thug than a—”

“Sorry, did you wait for long?”

Jimin freezes when that voice echoes from across the street, soft and sweet.

Taehyung is the first to look, his face brightening a bit. Jimin turns then, and surely, there’s Jeongguk walking towards them with a pep in his step, backpack slung over his shoulder.

“No, we just got here,” Jimin stutters, flustered.

“Oh, good.”

“He’s lying,” Taehyung counters like the demon he is, hangry frown dissipating into a teasing grin.

Jeongguk looks at him then, shooting Taehyung a knowing smile that makes his bunny teeth catch on his bottom lip in such a cute way Jimin wants to either shove his head into the ground like an ostrich or pull Jeongguk in and kiss him until his lips are swollen thrice their size and redder than a Ruby Woo bullet lipstick. 

One would think seeing Jeongguk dressed down to a ‘normal human’ after witnessing him embody the Ringmaster would be a bit of a downer, but Jeongguk without the Ringmaster costume is equally stunning and Jimin is fighting hard to keep his blood from rushing down to his dick. 

Jeongguk is not even doing anything special, just standing there in black sweats and a massive oversized gunmetal hoodie with the hood up, a backpack slung over one shoulder and some chunky trainers on his feet. Yet, he manages to make Jimin weak in the knees, caught in this exciting feeling of a reciprocal innocent crush. Well, not that innocent. The small smears of makeup left around Jeongguk’s eyes and hairline (and the overall after-work fatigue weighing on his shoulders) feed Jimin’s mind with a considerable sum of indecent thoughts.

“You guys ready to go?” 

“What about your friends?”

“They’re waiting in the car,” Jeongguk explains, fishing for car keys in his pocket. “You okay with me driving?” he asks politely, meeting Taehyung’s eyes briefly before shifting to Jimin.

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Mhm,” Jimin echoes, unable to hide the way his eyes widen at the sight of a Mercedes logo on the fancy key fob.

Jeongguk notices, mouth curling around the edges. “Not mine,” he chuckles. “It’s Namjoon hyung’s. He thought it best I come out on foot first. You’d probably run if a random van pulled up and told you to get in.”

“Fair point.”

Jeongguk adjusts the strap of his backpack, hand curling in a way that makes his knuckles bulge and whiten and Jimin needs to get a fucking grip because Jeongguk is talking and his brain is too loud screaming about the veins running on the back of his hand for Jimin to comprehend anything.

It’s only when Jeongguk is already walking away that Jimin seems to come back to himself, watching the actor gently turn down a fan who approaches him, greeting the security guard as he scans his ID to be let back in. 

Taehyung pounces the moment Jeongguk disappears behind the gate, arms crossed. “Get your shit together.”

Jimin groans, hiding behind his hands. “I’m trying.”

“Try harder, then. I bet my left asscheek you’re about to go through some brutal evaluation and here you are, creaming your pants just from inhaling the same air as him. It’s embarrassing.”

“Evaluation?” Jimin frowns, blinking rapidly.

It hits him, then. He’s about to meet all of Jeongguk’s closest friends, not just the actors from Halloween Nights.

“Oh God.”

“Mhm.”

“Fuck.”

“Yep.”

Somehow, Jimin hadn’t connected the dots. This is not just a hangout with cool actors from Halloween Nights, this is a subtle Meet The Family™.

He’s gonna get fucking chewed up.

Jimin barely has time to freak out before a shiny black Mercedes V-Class is rolling out the stage door, a couple fans trying to look into the tinted windows but the car drives by without stopping, parking a few feet ahead of them.

“Stop panicking,” Taehyung grabs Jimin by the arm, dragging him closer to the car. 

He’s laughing under his breath, clearly enjoying Jimin’s turmoil like the best friend he is. Well, his karma comes full force not even a minute after that, when the door to the classy van rolls open and Taehyung is shoved into the back middle seat between two men.

Jimin barely minds the playful jabs saying he doesn’t get to ride shotgun because he’ll distract Jeongguk. He’s too busy basking in the flip of the switch, watching Taehyung’s face grow redder than a chilli pepper, his shoulders hunched up to his ears, arms stiff, clutching his little shopping bag like it’s a ticking time bomb.

“Seatbelt,” someone tells Jimin, lightly tapping his shoulder, and he mindlessly clicks his belt in place, face turned back to watch the drama unfold. He knows it’s rude of him not to greet them, but Taehyung is staring at Namjoon like he’s seen a ghost, the rapper staring back at him with the cutest dimpled smile.

“Hi,” he says. “I’m Nam—”

“Runch Randa,” Taehyung whispers, eyes wide.

“Well, that too.” Namjoon chuckles, readjusting in his seat. “But my name is Namjoon.”

“Taehyung.”

“Are you hurt?” Namjoon checks, eyes roaming Taehyung’s form as best as he can in the cramped space.

“Huh?”

“I was worried you might’ve hurt yourself when you fell, I felt bad I kept pushing you.”

“What?” 

“You might know him as the General,” another guy chimes in, grinning like a cheeky little devil when it dawns on Taehyung that the famous rapper is also his worst nightmare. 

For someone who’d been giving Jimin shit for panicking a few minutes ago, Taehyung looks one breath away from passing out.

“I’m Jung Hoseok,” the guy adds, expression sweetening into a heart-shaped smile. “We’ve met before, when I was playing the Lab Rat.”

He’s sitting to Jimin’s left in the 7-seater van, torso turned to look at the three men in the backseat. 

How such a kind looking man can transform into a gruesome creature Jimin will never know. He knew there were actors behind the monsters, of course, but it’s somewhat of a brainfuck to look at the bubbly man sitting beside him and relate him to the memory of Lab Rat giving chase down the sewers, his screeching echoing all around them, that eerie cackling that gives him goosebumps.

“And the grumpy grandpa sitting to your left is Yoongi hyung,” Hoseok tells Taehyung. “He plays Scarface.”

Jimin’s eyes snap to the man in the corner, meeting the same piercing gaze that held him hostage back at the Cemetery, flashbacks of their previous interaction seemingly hitting the both of them. 

Yoongi locks eyes with Jimin, his gaze telling—he knows he had Jimin nearly popping a huge boner just from a simple cornering. 

Jimin flushes red, mind also going straight to the gutter. 

Yoongi takes him in with a sly onceover, lips curling in a knowing smirk. “Hey,” he mouths in brief acknowledgement, pulling the hood of his hoodie further down his face and avoiding all sorts of eye contact. 

Jimin wants to scream.

“I’m Kim Seokjin,” the guy riding shotgun shouts from the front, throwing a hand up in greeting. 

“Park Jimin.”

“Oh, we know who you are. We’ve heard a lot about you,” Hoseok teases, kicking the back of Jeongguk’s driver’s seat. “Didn’t we, Jeonggukie?”

He gets a middle finger in return. 

“Thanks for the fry by the way,” Seokjin chimes in, turning his head enough to see Jimin. “That was hilarious.”

Jimin huffs, cheeks on fire. “In my defense, my brain was sort of short-circuiting when you kept yelling ‘gimme one’.”

“I’m that good, huh?” Seokjin muses. “I should ask noona for a promotion.”

Sensing a window to jest and test the waters a bit, Jimin lets out a cheeky, “I see who Gguk got his cockiness from.”

The car explodes in laughter.

“Gguk, mmm?” Hoseok taunts, reaching over to playfully tug at a strand of Jeongguk’s hair, poking him wherever he can reach.

Jeongguk bats his hand away, turning on his seat like a grumpy pup. 

They’ve just stopped at a red light, Jeongguk ignoring the playful teasing so he can look back at Jimin, an apologetic pout on his lips. 

“Are they giving you too much grief? Say the word and I’ll kick them out.”

His friends all coo, crying about how Jeonggukie is all grown up now, how cute it is for him to stand up for his boyfriend, Namjoon complaining that this is his car and he can’t be banished with the others while Seokjin and Hoseok make loud kissing noises.

Jimin’s face is on fucking fire. 

He shakes his head, reaching out to give Jeongguk’s arm a comforting squeeze. “Let them dish it out, I don’t mind.”

Taehyung fake gags, chiming in from the back, “Get a roo-o-oom!”

A car honks impatiently and Jeongguk has an excuse to bring his attention back to the traffic, ignoring the endless teasing that sounds like he’s driving a bunch of 5th grade kids instead of six adults. 

They keep it up for a while longer and Jimin lets them, paying it back in the same coin until Namjoon says Jimin has passed the ‘cool boyfriend’ test (whatever that means). Soon the convo shifts back to work stuff, Seokjin ranting a hundred words per second about a vlogger who tried to interview him mid scene and how she’d brought him a can of sardines as a ‘gift’. 

And so the car is filled with laughter, not a single minute going by without them piping up with a joke, Jimin clutching his belly in tears, each joke sounding funnier than the last, the smallest comment setting them all off into fits of giggles.

Having had enough, Seokjin turns on the radio to try and silence them. Instead, it sparks an impromptu carpool karaoke, the seven of them singing along 2000’s k-pop songs all the way to Ikseon-dong.

—

Jimin thought they’d grab a bite somewhere close to the park, but they ended up driving for over half an hour, Jeongguk parking at a small street corner behind Unhyeongung Palace. 

The auntie who runs the burger joint is busy back in the kitchen, the sound of pots and pans mixing with her nasally chirp as she rambles to her son about servings and whatnot. The place is almost empty, save a young couple and one old man sitting by himself on the other side. It’s already small, a hole on the wall kind of joint, but it’s homely and welcoming, drowning them in that same cosy late-night atmosphere Jimin felt the night he met Jeongguk. 

Their table is full of greasy comfort food, the smell of french fries and grilling burgers as delicious as the taste. 

Jimin takes a huge bite of his cheeseburger, taking that moment to watch Jeongguk’s friends in their element. Now, in the light, he can actually make out their features and mannerisms. 

They all carry the same fatigue Jeongguk tries to hide, eyes rimmed with poorly removed paint, hair stuck in a million different directions, skin shiny with dried sweat. Still, they don’t seem tired—or rather, they postpone feeling it in favour of spending a special moment together after the first Halloween night of the year.

For a somewhat famous person, Namjoon is super sweet and down to earth, very different from his stage persona and the mean aura he gives off with his large clothes and low fade buzz cut. He’s also not as tall as Jimin remembered him to be, even if he stands at least a head taller than everyone else. His General boots must have had insoles.

Seokjin is tall and gorgeous, with wide shoulders and thick lips. It’s a wonder really, how the SFX makeup strips him of his beauty without making him ugly. Now that Jimin has seen him without the gory makeup, it's pretty clear how it’s Seokjin’s own charm that peeks through the Fisherman. 

As hot as he is, Seokjin is also a huge pain in the ass. Jeongguk orders another small portion of fries to share with Jimin and so Seokjin, after another round of teasing and fake gagging, starts to call Jimin ‘Fry Boy’ just to annoy him. Given how he behaves around the others, soft bullying seems to be his love language.

Yoongi is a whole nother story. It seems he was still in Scarface’s headspace back in the car because he’s done a complete one-eighty from the brooding heartthrob. He still radiates the composed, aloof vibe, but he also avoids eye contact at all costs and blushes like crazy whenever the others compliment him on his performance. 

He’s a walking contraction; a perfect mix of hard edges and soft curves, with sharp feline eyes and pouty pink lips, beautiful raven hair pulled back in a ponytail and pale, unblemished skin—a vampire, even out of costume.

Hoseok is the opposite. He’s sunshine personified—bubbly and energetic, even if he too shows blatant signs of fatigue behind that heart-shaped smile, clearly in need of a shower and a bed. He proudly presents the table all the bruising he got during the night, pulling the leg of his pants up to show the darkening purples on his knee, explaining to the noobs (Seokjin’s words) how his slider pads work and why, even with all the padding, he gets a few bumps.

Even Taehyung is different. He’s still the quirky, social butterfly Jimin loves but Jeongguk’s friends have this chaotic energy that brings forth the Taehyung only Jimin is usually privy of. To be fair, it took him a moment to get over the fact he’s wearing the Runch Randa hoodie after the others confirmed it was all a ploy to paint him an easy target, but Taehyung is glowing, joining them as they tease each other relentlessly. 

It’s as if they’ve been friends for years—old childhood friends who finally managed to get together for some reminiscing over the clink of glasses and the hum of a sizzling grill somewhere in the back.

Odd, but comforting. New, but familiar. Jimin doesn’t let himself question it.

“Why don’t you eat the napkin, too? Pour some ketchup on it,” Yoongi teases when Namjoon orders yet another burger, as if he himself hadn't asked for more french fries too.

“Fuck you, I’m starving!” Namjoon retorts with no bite at all, throwing said napkin in Yoongi’s direction. He misses it completely. “You’re not the one in full prosthetics. You can eat and drink whatever you want, I can only drink through a straw!”

If there’s something Jimin has learnt throughout the night is that it’s not easy, the work they do. It requires a lot of physical dexterity and strength. No wonder they’re all starving, it’s truly a monster workout (pun intended).

“They bicker like an old married couple,” Seokjin sighs loudly, watching the other two. “It’s fascinating.”

From the outside, it might look like they’re all getting pretty drunk but, surprisingly, no one’s drinking alcohol. They just lack volume filters. 

Maybe that’s why the auntie shoved them in a corner, Seokjin at the head of the table with Namjoon, Taehyung and Hoseok to his left and Jeongguk, Jimin and Yoongi to his right. 

Hoseok is reenacting the silly antics of a group he came across in the Sewers when Jeongguk sort of stands, reaching over the table to help the auntie’s son with the second servings he’s carrying in two arms. The others help too, handing out the correct orders around the table, Jeongguk holding onto the fries he’s ordered for Jimin, fidgeting a bit in his seat when Jimin shoots him a confused glance.

“I know a courting gift should be a massive deer that I drop dead at your feet after shifting back from my wolf form,” Jeongguk starts around a boyish grin, placing the little plate of fries in front of Jimin. “But I hope these suffice.”

Jimin groans, nudging Jeongguk away. “You’re the worst.”

“What, you don’t like it?” Jeongguk pouts, looking down at the fries. “It has to be the deer?”

Jimin huffs in annoyance but the smile gives him away. He can’t help it, not when Jeongguk is doing the puppy eyes again, tugging at his heartstrings. 

So he pops a fry into his mouth, looking straight at Jeongguk as he chews. “Courting accepted.”

The victorious, cocky grin that spreads across Jeongguk’s face is absolutely ridiculous, Jimin doing his best not to laugh out loud. The way Jeongguk inhales and fixes his posture, biting happily into his burger, is like reading omegaverse fanfiction in 3D—a perfect depiction of an alpha’s posturing. 

And then he’s leaning in, tilting his head to take a whiff off Jimin’s shoulder, nose scrunching up cutely as he sniffs him up and down like a real pup. 

“The fuck’re you doing?” Jimin whispers, trying not to draw attention. 

Jeongguk takes one last whiff, straightening up in his seat. “Is this your omega scent?”

“It’s Jo Malone, actually.”

A beat of silence where they just look at each other, trying not to fucking burst in laughter. They fail miserably.

Namjoon is the first to catch on, nodding towards the two in a fit of giggles. A teasing glance passes between the others, the table falling quiet.

“Care to share what’s so funny?”

On cue, they pull apart like shy teens, Jimin stuffing his face with fries while Jeongguk coughs awkwardly, trying to play it cool. 

After yet another brief round of ‘stop eyefucking each other in public’ and ‘get a room’, the others return to their heated debate, engaged in defending their points of view on the year-old debate on perilla leaves.

Jimin tries to calm with a sip of his drink, cheeks on fire. It doesn’t help that Jeongguk keeps staring at him with that ridiculously goofy smile.

“A miracle you can smell my perfume,” he says. “I’ve been sweating like crazy all night, and the hoodie has this weird new clothes’ smell.”

“An alpha would recognise his omega’s scent anywhere,” Jeongguk snickers. “I’ve got a good nose. And,” he drags the word, leaning in slightly to keep it between them. “I did a little bit of research on your beloved wolf porn.”

“I noticed. Did you learn something interesting?”

“Mhm.”

“Care to elaborate?”

Jeongguk pulls out his phone. Jimin nearly chokes when his eyes land on himself, kneeling like a slut, right there on Jeongguk’s home screen.

“What?” Jeongguk asks, knowing very well ‘what’. 

Jimin sputters but doesn’t say anything, watching Jeongguk open the browser app, scrolling through several open tabs until he finds the one he’s looking for. He then gives Jimin the phone, fingers casually brushing the back of his hand when handing it over.

It’s fair to say Jimin’s eyes nearly pop out of his skull at ‘Tapered Knot Cock Ring with Skin-Like Feel’ right there on the screen.

Appalled and turned on and speechless and in need of riding Jeongguk’s dick as soon as humanly possible, Jimin scrolls through the page in horror, skimming through ‘veiny texture for enhanced realism’, ‘ball ring included for added support’ and ‘customizable upon request’.

“What do you think?”

Jimin slowly sets the phone on the table, screen down. 

“Please tell me you didn’t buy this,” he whispers—a tiny, not so miniscule part of him actually hoping Jeongguk says he did.

“Nah,” Jeongguk smirks, arm resting on the back of Jimin’s chair. “I was waiting for you, didn’t know which colour you’d like best.”

“Flesh is always nice,” Jimin admits, his self-preservation filter obviously out of service.

“Want it to look as real as possible, huh?” Jeongguk chuckles, stealing Jimin’s soda and taking a sip, making sure Jimin’s eyes are glued to the movement of his tongue seeking the straw, lips wrapping around it with purpose.

Jimin’s face is redder than his hoodie by now, the blood suddenly rushing south when Jeongguk sets the cup down and that same goddamn hand slides along the edge of the table, slowly finding its way to his thigh. 

Strong fingers curl into the muscle, rubbing against the inner seam of his jeans. 

“Jeongguk…” Jimin warns in a breathy voice, hand coming down in an attempt to either pull Jeongguk’s hand away or push it further up his crotch. 

Jeongguk just smirks wider, the fucker. 

He does remove his hand, but not before giving Jimin’s thigh a meaningful squeeze. 

“Yes?” he reaches across Jimin to retrieve his phone, expertly navigating it one-handed. “What is it?”

Whatever lame comment Jimin mumbles in reply is thankfully drowned by Seokjin’s sudden screech. He shares a confused look with Taehyung but the others don’t even flinch so this might be a common occurrence.

“We didn’t toast to Jeonggukie’s debut!” Jin sobs, the entire table blinking at him in stunned silence.

Jeongguk’s face falls, the cocky aura evaporating into a cloud of embarrassment. “Hyung, that’s not really necessary…”

“It is! It’s your special night and here we are, wasting it away.” 

Seokjin might not be drunk, but he’s holding a glass and the liquid sloshes over the rim when he raises a toast, bathing his fries in Chilsung cider. 

“Hyung, you already congratulated me back at the park…” Jeongguk says, ears burning red. “The gift you guys gave me is literally in my backpack.”

“That’s different! We need a toast—celebration!”

“We are celebrating,” Yoongi sighs, pinching his nose while Hoseok reaches over to dab some napkins over the spill. He’s immediately interrupted.

“No, we’re not,” Seokjin frowns at Yoongi. “We’re entertaining ourselves while Jimin and Jeongguk do hand stuff under the table.”

Namjoon cuts in with a loud theatrical coo, rounding the table and yanking Jeongguk up into a bear hug. 

“My baby!”

“Hyung, please…”

It’s obvious they’re playing it up but it’s also clear that, though his face is on fire, Jeongguk doesn’t really mind their antics. It’s like parents telling embarrassing childhood stories to your best friend. Behind all the fake sobbing and dabbing of invisible tears is the real sentiment of Jeongguk being celebrated, surrounded by the friends who cheered him on every step of the way. 

“Look how far you’ve come. A Halloween Nights main character! Oh, my baby—”

Jeongguk hides his face in his hands, mortified. It’s cute how he unconsciously makes himself smaller under Namjoon’s brotherly embrace.

“—my child—”

“You say as if you actually birthed him,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, tugging at Namjoon’s shirt to try and make him let go and sit down. 

Jimin’s heart swells at the sight, sharing a look with Taehyung. They observe quietly as Jeongguk becomes the center of attention, all his hyungs talking over each other to praise him. 

The warmth in their eyes says it all.

Jeongguk meets Jimin’s gaze from under the playful noogies Namjoon’s giving him and it’s cute how embarrassed he is, mumbling and grumbling about the hyungs being too much, even if it’s obvious how much he’s actually loving it.

So Jimin joins them, raising his cup. “To Jeonggukie!” he says, voice carrying over the others, Taehyung echoing with a “You crushed it!”

Namjoon eases up, going back to his seat and Jeongguk plops down in his chair, fixing his hair with a cute blush while the others drink in his name. He stays silent, smile softening as his friends keep chanting Jeon Jeongguk! Jeon Jeongguk!

The elation on his face makes Jimin’s heart soar, a little knot of emotion tightening his throat. Jeongguk looks incredibly proud of himself, even if a bit overwhelmed, and Jimin understands now why he is the way that he is, knowing how far back their friendship goes, especially him and Namjoon. 

He understands why Jeongguk is so direct, so in tune with his emotions, why he’s not afraid of showing them. Understand why he wears his heart on his sleeve, why he has no problem letting Jimin know he’s entirely smitten, why he has no problem letting his friends tease him about how bad he has it for Jimin. 

Because his friends, his family really, allow him to. 

“Thanks,” Jeongguk says, voice filled with emotion. “I… I don’t know what to say. To be honest it doesn’t feel real yet. That it happened, that it’s official. It felt like another rehearsal, only with people in it? I don’t think I’ve processed it yet but, thank you. Really. Thank you for being here,” he says, looking at Jimin and Taehyung. “All of you.”

Expecting the oncoming wave of good natured teasing, Jeongguk takes a deep breath and says, “Let’s take a pic!”

They all scramble for their phones, but Jeongguk is already passing his phone to Yoongi since he’s the one sitting at the end of the table. 

Jimin watches in horror as Yoongi taps on the screen, face illuminated by that soft bluish glow. It’s a weird sensation, knowing the weird face Yoongi pulls is because he’s seeing Jimin’s picture, though an odd, proud wave of possessiveness takes over him as well, knowing it stands as some sort of claim over Jeongguk.

The others miss it, busy fixing themselves for the photo, but Yoongi exchanges some smug glances with Jimin and Jeongguk, paired with an appreciative nod and a cocky lip-lick-smirk combo. Jimin wonders if, in the far far future, when he’s already married to Jeongguk and living the dream life, they can ask Yoongi if he’s down to a ménage à trois. 

They take a few simple selfies, holding up their cups and all, but then the auntie’s son comes and asks if they’d like for him to take the pictures for them and it becomes a clusterfuck. They drag the chairs all to one side, Namjoon sliding his arm over Jeongguk’s shoulder in a classic dad hug, his other arm snug around Taehyung with Hoseok draped over them like a blanket. Jimin leans into Jeongguk’s other side, blushing when a warm hand sneaks around his waist, pinching his hip in a playful gesture. Seokjin leans onto him, Yoongi glued to his back, face lit up in a radiant gummy smile. 

The kind boy takes several pictures, asking them to change poses in between. They go through a few rounds of funny faces, Taehyung nearly knocking over a drink in the process. 

“Alright, one more!” the boy calls out and, in that split second, Jeongguk turns and smacks a wet kiss on Jimin’s cheek. 

The flash goes off, capturing the moment forever.

Jeongguk pulls back, scanning Jimin’s face as if savoring every tiny detail of his reaction.

Fuck it.

Without warning, Jimin grabs Jeongguk’s by the collar and yanks him closer, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. 

It’s this last picture the one that, a few days later, ends up shared on the crew’s social media along with all the backstage pictures: Jimin with his eyes squeezed shut, a hint of a smile on his lips and a wide eyed Jeongguk caught completely off guard, surrounded by their friends all sporting dramatic expressions of shock and surprise.

It’s well past 3AM when they call it a night, fighting each other on who’s paying the bill. The hyungs end up splitting the payment, a blushing Taehyung finally accepting Namjoon’s offer to cover his. “You can pay next time,” he says with a flirty wink that even Jimin feels the effects of. 

He wholeheartedly understands why Namjoon is Jeongguk’s eternal crush.

While they sort it out, Jimin pulls Jeongguk aside, fumbling with the sleeve of his hoodie, desperate to find something to do with his hands.

“Hyung,” Jeongguk smiles knowingly, apparently reading his thoughts. “Our night’s not ending here.”

“No?”

“Nope,” Jeongguk says, his tone playful. “You’re coming home with me.”

Jimin grins, albeit a bit confused. “I am?”

“Mhm.” 

“But you said you’d be too tired?”

“Oh, I’m exhausted. I’ll probably pass out the second I get home, but… would you be down for some very innocent, very mated-life cuddles?”

“I think I might be open to that idea, yeah.”

“You can even wear my shirt to sleep,” Jeongguk smiles, knuckles caressing Jimin’s cheek. “That’s a wolf thing, isn’t it?”

Jimin doesn’t dignify it with an answer. 

The others walk out then, already saying their goodbyes. Seokjin and Hoseok take their leave on foot since they live only a couple blocks away. Yoongi grabs Namjoon’s keys and hops into the car after a brief goodbye and a “It was really nice to meet you” to Jimin and Taehyung. 

And then there’s only the four of them standing there. Not one to miss an opportunity to set his friend up, Jimin meets Taehyung’s eyes for a brief second and asks, turning to Namjoon. “Hyung, do you mind giving Tae a ride back to the dorms?”

Taehyung flushes, not thinking he’d be so blunt. “Oh, no. That’s not—I can—I wouldn’t impose—” 

Namjoon waves off Taehyung’s polite decline. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

Not wanting to prolong the pleasantries, Jeongguk grabs his backpack and Jimin’s shopping bag from the car, not missing the opportunity to snap a picture of Yoongi knocked out in the backseat. 

They say their goodbyes, Jeongguk taking Jimin’s hand in his and hauling him towards Samil-daero to try and find a taxi once Namjoon drives away. They walk in silence, Jimin pressed to Jeongguk’s side, carrying his backpack and Jeongguk dragging his feet, unable to hide his exhaustion.

They spot an available taxi but the driver ignores them, speeding down the street. 

“Fucker!” Jimin swears loudly, flipping him off. Jeongguk’s delighted chuckle echoes after it, carried by the gust of wind that agitates the trees, leaves raining on them. 

“We should’ve asked Namjoon hyung to drop us at your place,” Jimin sighs, reaching over to pull Jeongguk’s hood further up his head. “What if you get sick? The wind is picking up.”

Jeongguk slows down, an oddly fond expression on his face. “You’re not helping, you know?”

“What?”

“You,” he says, poking Jimin’s cheek. “You’re making it really hard for me not to fall for you.”

The words hang between them, simple and honest, a shiver running down Jimin’s back—not from the cold this time. He’d be lying if he said if he’s not also trying his best to haul back this feeling that blooms in his chest. 

It’s new. Brave too, admitting that their attraction is growing faster and stronger than what is socially acceptable despite their efforts to tame it. 

Jeongguk means it, so why can’t he?

Jimin closes the space between them, wrapping both his arms around Jeongguk’s right, loving the wave of warmth the contact sends through him. “Would it be so bad?” he wonders, voice nothing more than a whisper. “To fall in love with me?”

He feels Jeongguk’s breath catch, feels the way his muscles move when he tenses his arm, how the space between them shrinks with each passing second.

“Not at all,” Jeongguk murmurs, the corners of his mouth twitching into a small smile.

“I think so, too.”

There’s a beat of silence, a quiet understanding, before Jimin takes a breath and closes the gap.

It’s different, this kiss.

They’ve kissed a few times—at the laundromat, at the park, an hour ago for the photo. Still, this kiss feels different. A precious little thing that’s too fragile to be handled aggressively, laid on each other’s lips like a gentle promise.

“I’m sorry if it’s too fast,” a cold hand gently cups Jimin’s cheek. “I know I can be too much, too soon.”

“Not for me,” Jimin shakes his head, pressing into his touch. “I’m sorry if someone ever made you think that.”

Jeongguk pulls back to look at him, eyes shining with something open and vulnerable. A smile creeps up on his face when Jimin intertwines their fingers, bringing them to his mouth to lay a cute kiss on Jeongguk’s knuckles.

“Are we doing this?”

“We are,” Jeongguk nods slowly, sweeping down to kiss Jimin again. “Though that was a completely unnecessary confirmation. Didn’t you say we’ve already mated or whatever?”

That makes Jimin laugh, the tension easing. “You’re ridiculous,” he mumbles into the kiss. “That’s not how mating works.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jeongguk smirks, pulling back. “We’re missing the dick in ass action but that can be easily arranged.”

Jimin nearly pisses himself laughing. It takes him a solid ten minutes to calm down.

They end up taking a night bus right outside Anguk Station, N51 being one of the only lines in operation after midnight. Thankfully it didn’t take long to come. 

The bus is almost empty, save for a few workers sitting near the front, their heads bowed over their phones, each in their own little world. Jimin and Jeongguk shuffle towards the back, taking the slightly worn seats at the end row. 

In a couple minutes, Jeongguk starts dozing off, lulled by the gentle hum of the bus. Jimin pulls his head to his shoulder, gently carding his finger through his hair. “Nap,” he whispers. “I’ll wake you up when we get closer to Sinchon.”

Jeongguk nods, lips jutted out in a tiny pout. Jimin smiles at the sight, shuffling closer so he can keep playing with his hair, tucking it behind Jeongguk’s ear or scratching his scalp with soothing little scritches.

He lets himself fall into the moment, mind wandering to the world outside the window, his reflection mingling with the distant blur of the city. 

—

Jeongguk’s flat is on the ninth floor of a building tucked between a Japanese restaurant and a CU convenience store. There are twenty studios per floor and he’s one of the lucky ones with a unit that faces the street. 

It’s a one-room-one-bathroom little place but it screams home, the dim lighting making it warm and intimate.

“This is it,” Jeongguk yawns, gesturing casually to the open room. “It’s not much, but…”

“It’s perfect,” Jimin assures him, setting his shoes down by the door. “Oh.”

“What?” Jeongguk pauses, hoodie halfway down his arms. 

“There’s only one bed?” Jimin frowns. “Where am I supposed to sleep? The floor?”

Jeongguk pauses, tongue in cheek. “Sorry. I think we’ll have to share.”

“Ugh, really?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Fine,” Jimin sighs dramatically, shrugging off the backpack. Jeongguk takes it from him, setting it aside with Jimin’s shopping bag.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Jimin waves him off, turning so he won’t see him smile. “I don’t snore, I promise.”

“I don’t mind if you do,” Jeongguk laughs softly, pulling Jimin closer. “‘Cause I do.”

Jimin runs his hands up Jeongguk’s arms, fingers locking behind his neck. “I’ll shove a sock in your mouth if you’re being too loud.”

“A sock, huh?” Jeongguk leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Jimin’s mouth. “Is it gonna be the Bonobono?”

Instead of turning to deepen the kiss, Jimin pulls Jeongguk into a hug, head on his shoulder and lips on his neck. Not kissing, just feeling the sturdiness of the muscle, the soft rhythm of his pulse.

“Yep,” he grins. “And it’s gonna taste horrible because I’m wearing them.”

Jeongguk means to look down and check but Jimin shoves his head further under his jaw, dragging his nose up his throat, inhaling deeply.

“Are you sniffing me?”

“Mhm.”

“Stop, I smell bad.”

“Don’t think so,” Jimin chuckles, tongue peeking out to lick a teasing strip under his chin.

“I taste and smell like sweat and makeup remover,” Jeongguk laughs. “Let me go shower.”

Jimin sighs. “Okay.”

With a little peck and a promise to be quick, Jeongguk leaves him alone in the room while he washes off the work grime. 

Jimin takes that moment to admire the cosy little space. It’s so uniquely Jeongguk, down to the smallest of details. 

The entrance corridor has the bathroom door to one side, a counter to the other. The sink and other appliances sit on the cabinet where the cooktop is, a small fridge tucked under it. There are small jars of spices lined in a row next to the burner, a cutting board propped up against the wall, a bowl and a pan sitting on the drying rack and a little pullout table covered in supplements, vitamins and other healthy stuff. 

Though cramped, it’s all neatly arranged, everything in its proper place. 

The room then opens into the living space, with a queen bed taking most of it. It’s a cloud, mounted on a raised dais off the floor, thick duvet and fluffy pillows so soft Jimin immediately wants to touch it. So he does, running his fingers over the smooth surface, resisting the urge to crawl into it in his dirty clothes. 

A bookshelf stands on the opposite wall, crammed with books, music albums and action figures. There are some vinyl records, too. On the top shelf, in a place of honour, there are a couple frames—

One is of preteen Jeongguk hugging a thug-looking teenage Namjoon, both gangly and awkward and cute. It’s signed, the thick silver ink of the autograph chipped in some places. The other is of Jeongguk and who Jimin assumes are his parents—a tall, lean man in his forties who is the spitting image of Jeongguk and a tiny beautiful woman who has his exact same doe eyes and bunny smile. Given the Roman alphabet words on store fronts and foreigners in the background, it was probably taken somewhere in France.

The TV is mounted on the wall by the bed, a mess of cables running down the wall behind the small dresser. Though the overall space is clean and organised, the top of the dresser is a warzone. There’s a lot of knick knacks scattered over the smooth surface—jewellery, crumpled receipts, books, empty mugs, cables and several of those weird breathing exercise devices. 

Shuffling his way around the bed, Jimin pulls the blackout curtains open just enough to peek outside, noticing how the sky is starting to lighten up the tiniest bit. It’s probably over 4 AM by now.

He’s adjusting the curtain back in place, making sure no light will peak through, when the bathroom door opens. He turns in time to see Jeongguk emerge from a cloud of steam, wearing boxers and a large t-shirt that swallows him whole.

“What?”

“Was sort of expecting you to walk out naked,” Jimin admits, twiddling his toes to feel the fluffy rug Jeongguk has beside the bed. “You know? Towel wrapped around your waist, skin damp from the shower… that sort of thing.”

“Stop being a horny mess,” Jeongguk chastises in good nature, reaching for the dresser. “Here,” he throws Jimin some underwear, quickly opening another drawer to grab a t-shirt too.

“Smooth way of telling me I stink,” Jimin laughs, clutching the clothes to his chest. 

It’s then he notices the shirt Jeongguk gave him is his own. The same t-shirt Jimin gave him that night at the laundromat—Ringmaster’s trophy.

“You don’t, but a shower will make you feel better.”

Not one to pass on the opportunity of a hot soothing shower, Jimin slips into the bathroom, throwing a “I won’t take long” over his shoulder. 

The bathroom is smaller than he expected, the sink cluttered with lotions and toiletries, but Jimin doesn’t pay it much attention, stripping himself out of his clothes and hopping into the shower for a quick wash. 

Jeongguk was right. 

Jimin might’ve not been working at Halloween Nights like the rest of them, but he and Tae did get a bit too into it. Showering off the sweat lets him feel how sore his body is after a strenuous night, finally taking notice of all the little purples on his skin from bumping into walls and set pieces. 

He doesn’t take too long, though. That would be rude—and keep him from finally cuddling Jeongguk. If he’s lucky, they could even sneak in a sleepy makeout session.

Not one to step back from a little provocation, he pats himself dry with a spare towel and walks out wearing only the boxers, ready for a flirty back and forth with Jeongguk. 

But his smirk is easily replaced by a fond, genuine smile. 

Jeongguk is passed out cold, snoring softly. 

For a moment Jimin just watches him sleep. It’s sweet, how younger Jeongguk looks when asleep, his cheeks rounder, his lips parted in a tired breath, fingers loosely wrapped around his phone as if he’d been on it to stay awake.

If Jimin wasn’t already smitten as fuck, this moment would’ve stolen his heart right away. It’s so cute and domestic and he just wants to lay in bed and cuddle Jeongguk, big spooning him until the sun is high in the sky and the world outside ceases to exist.

So he does. Jimin puts on the t-shirt, loving the familiarity even more than the fact it now belongs to Jeongguk, loving how it swallows him whole, drowning him in soft grey fabric. He calmly folds his used clothes too, plugs in Jeongguk’s phone and sets his own phone beside it. 

Making sure nothing seems out of place, Jimin turns off the lights and slips under the covers beside Jeongguk, scooting until they’re flush together, laying side by side. Jeongguk stirs a bit.

Careful not to wake him up, Jimin finds his way under Jeongguk’s arm, throwing one arm over Jeongguk’s waist and a leg over his thighs until he’s draped over Jeongguk like a weighted blanket. It’s then that Jimin lets himself relax, sinking into the mattress, the gentle rhythm of Jeongguk’s breathing working as a lullaby. 

He smiles, eyes fluttering shut. The comfort of sharing a bed with someone is foreign, but welcomed. Weird, but cherished. 

It lets Jimin shut off his mind, choosing to simply enjoy the warmth of Jeongguk’s body, the tickle of his breath on his neck, the steady beat of his heart. And so, shooing away the tiny voice that wants him to believe this is too good to be true, Jimin pulls Jeongguk closer still, hugging him tight as he too drifts off to sleep. 

—

Jimin rouses to the sound of his name whispered against his skin and soft, gentle fingers running through his hair.

The first thing he notices is he’s not on his bed. The blanket is softer, the pillows fluffier. 

His eyes flutter open to a view that’s so different from the one he’s used to waking up to in his dorm room.

There, he wakes up to a wall covered in post-its. Here, it’s to Jeongguk’s sleep-swollen face and the most ridiculous case of bed hair staring back at him. 

The blackout curtains are still drawn but Jeongguk has turned the bedside lamp on, bathing the room in a soft orange glow. He has no idea what time it is.

“Hi,” Jimin mumbles, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. 

“Hi,” Jeongguk echoes. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mm,” Jimin shifts, blinking and stretching, a lazy smile spreading far on his lips. “You?”

“Better than ever,” Jeongguk hums, throwing a leg over Jimin’s hips, propping himself up on an elbow so he can lean in for a kiss.

“No,” Jimin turns his head. “I didn’t brush my teeth last night, pro’bly have morning breath.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I do.”

“Just a peck.”

“No.”

“Close mouthed, I promise.”

“No.”

“S’il te plaît?”

“Non, monsieur.”

“Oh,” Jeongguk’s eyebrows fly up, eyes round and sleepy and so fucking cute. “Tu parles français, hm?”

Jimin rolls his eyes, not needing a translation for that. “I looked up some things on Google.”

“Do tell.”

Jimin averts his gaze, suddenly aware of how hot it feels under the covers with Jeongguk half on top of him, how their bare legs are tangled, Jeongguk’s weight tickling that part of his brain that wants to be completely smothered by him.

“Come on,” Jeongguk pokes his cheek, pretending to be an annoying little bug. “What else did you learn?”

“I could only memorise basic stuff.”

“For example?”

“Oui, non, s’il vous plaît, me baiser…”

It’s fucking hilarious, the moment the last word registers in Jeongguk’s brain.

He rolls on his back away from Jimin, his entire body shaking as he bursts out laughing. It’s the sort of laughter that is hysterical, the kind that makes you cry and gasp for breath.  

“Stop laughing!” Jimin whines, but it only makes Jeongguk laugh more.

It’s infectious. Jimin can’t help but laugh as well, knowing the random ‘yes, no, please, fuck me’ combo was unexpected. 

“Oh God, I’m dying,” Jeongguk wheezes, tears streaming down his face. “I can’t believe that’s what you memorised.”

“What?” Jimin giggles, leaning in to gently wipe a tear that’s about to run down Jeongguk’s temple. “It’s essential information.”

“Indeed.”

They stay silent for a minute, interrupted by the tiniest fits of giggles.

“So,” Jimin starts, rolling on his side to face Jeongguk. “What now?”

“I don’t know about you, but…” Jeongguk smirks, tilting his head to meet his eyes. “Je meurs d’envie de te baiser.”

“I don’t need to be fluent to know what you’ve just said,” Jimin snorts, hand splaying on Jeongguk’s chest to push him away when he tries leaning in for a kiss, again. “Down, boy.” 

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Jeongguk groans like a grumpy pup, pressing his lips to Jimin’s cheek instead. 

He lingers for a moment, breathing him in, before he pulls back. 

“Okay, I have a spare toothbrush.”

“Go fetch it,” Jimin says, just to tease.

Jeongguk gives him the middle finger, rolling over to the other side and getting up. Jimin yawns and stretches, watching him stumble over to the bathroom. The sight of his bare thighs and the t-shirt stuck to his back sort of makes Jimin want to call him back to bed but he pushes it down, throwing the blankets off and getting up too.

He makes himself at home, fetching a glass of water while Jeongguk uses the bathroom, the two seamlessly changing places in a dance that feels oddly domestic. Jeongguk hands him a spare toothbrush with a silly pat on the butt and another kiss to the cheek. Jimin pinches his thigh.

Having the bathroom to himself, Jimin brushes his teeth and does his business quickly (including a little splash from the bidet) in the hopes Jeongguk will jump his bones the second he opens the door. So he’s a bit confused when, walking back into the room, he finds Jeongguk leaning against the counter, laughing at his phone.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Jeongguk looks up, smiling. “Com’here, I’m just checking the group chat. Hyungs are being nosy.”

Certain Jeongguk won’t mind, Jimin wraps his arms around his waist, chin resting on Jeongguk’s shoulder so he can peer into the screen. 

It’s open to a chat named KillaVilla.

Seokjin, 3:52AM

life check

Hoseok, 3:58AM

life check

Namjoon, 4:20AM

life check

me and yoongi hyung home

Namjoon, 4:25AM

@Jeongguk dropped tae at the dorms

can you text jimin and let him know?

tae’s phone was dead

Jeongguk, 5:03AM

life check

@Namjoon i’ll tell him

he’s in the shower

Namjoon, 5:04AM

he really went home with you?

first date?

damn

Hoseok, 5:04AM

GET IT GGUKIEEEEEE 🔥

Seokjin, 5:04AM

omg jeongguk wtf

how you still have stamina to fuck

it’s 5 in the morning

you have work tomorrow

Namjoon, 5:05AM

safe sex always

i’m off to sleep

Seokjin, 5:17AM

@Namjoon he stopped responding

jeongguk pls wear a condom

and don’t pull a muscle

Namjoon, 12:48PM

morning chat

Seokjin, 12:59PM

i’m barely alive

Yoongi, 1:08PM

i’m gonna call off work

Hoseok, 1:08PM

@Yoongi no you won’t

Yoongi, 1:09PM

i can’t possibly do another three months of this

bye i resign

Hoseok, 1:09PM

stop being dramatic

and answer me on priv

Seokjin, 1:11PM

[file attached: LW_HN_Crew_Timetable_20(Ver.4).exl]

today’s schedule has been updated

meeting for notes at 5:45

Seokjin, 1:13PM

@Yoongi @Hoseok why you gossiping in private

rude????

Jeongguk, 1:15PM

morning

Seokjin, 1:15PM

HE’S ALIVE

Hoseok, 1:16PM

did you fuck

Jeongguk, 1:16PM

none of your business

Seokjin, 1:16PM

of course they fucked

after all that mating dance last night

disgusting

i’m forever traumatised

Namjoon, 1:17PM

with all due respect

wouldn’t miss a chance on that ass either

Hoseok, 1:18PM

jimin’s the lucky one

gguk has a pornstar dick

we’ve seen it

Yoongi, 1:18PM

can we stop talking about gguk’s dick

i’m sure jimin loved it 

but i don’t wanna know

Jimin laughs, hiding his face in Jeongguk’s chest.

“Sorry,” Jeongguk cringes, trying to hide the screen. “They can be a bit crass.”

Jimin huffs, hitting his pec. “If you apologise one more time…”

He can hear the smile in his voice when Jeongguk says, “Sorry.”

“I’m gonna strangle you.”

“Didn’t we agree that choking is allowed in this relationship?”

Jimin pulls back, smacking Jeongguk’s chest. Hard. “Ya!”

The grin on Jeongguk’s face is infectious. 

He freshened up and he still looks dishevelled, with the puffy face yet to go down, hair wild. It’s a fine line between sleepy and wrecked. 

An idea pops in Jimin’s mind. A little something to stir the pot. 

“Send them a selfie.”

Jeongguk blinks. “What?”

“They’re curious about it, so let’s send them a selfie.” 

Jimin spins in front of Jeongguk, grabbing his arm and throwing it over his neck and shoulder, locking himself in a loose chokehold. 

“What are you doing?!” Jeongguk cackles, accidentally tightening the hold. 

It makes Jimin gag. “Ngh—not so tight, Gguk.” He yanks the phone out of Jeongguk’s hand, bringing it up to a higher angle. 

Now getting the gist, Jeongguk adjusts the lock into something firm but affectionate, flexing his arm so his muscles pull taut, creating a pretty golden necklace for Jimin’s neck.

“Not sure if I should be turned on or terrified,” he laughs happily, wrapping his other arm around Jimin’s waist, pulling him closer.

Jimin half-laughs, half-squirms, craning his neck to make his cheeks pudge in that dip of Jeongguk’s elbow, pushing against the hold to make it look like there’s real force behind it. 

They both look up at the camera, Jimin clicking the shutter in rapid fire. 

“Love it,” Jeongguk hums, playfully squeezing Jimin’s waist. “Looks goofy.”

Goofy? Nah, that won’t do.

“I think it’ll look better if I do this,” Jimin opens his mouth in a silent moan, tongue peeking out, eyes crossed like a hentai character mid orgasm. 

He’s not sure if they’re still in frame or if he’s hitting the shutter button but it doesn’t matter, not when Jeongguk literally growls in response, grinding his semi on his ass.

“T’es en train de jouer avec ma patience, hein?” Jeongguk takes the phone from him, giving the screen a swipe to go into video mode.

“What’s this for?” Jimin smirks at the camera, hands curling over Jeongguk’s forearm, digging into the muscle to ease the pressure on his throat. “Wank material?”

Jeongguk doesn’t budge. Instead he remains silent, just breathing heavily, his eyes losing a bit of their sweetness. 

Jimin tries wriggling himself free, but Jeongguk is like a wall of pure muscle, strong and steady, and his weird silence starts feeding Jimin a good dose of anxiety. It crafts a moment that’s charged, air thick with a tension that reeks of arousal and something else Jimin can’t quite put his finger to. 

When Jimin taps his arm more firmly, Jeongguk tightens the hold. It’s more of a show than any actual brutal force but it’s firm enough Jimin can feel his strength; can feel that, even if Jeongguk doesn’t mean any harm, he’d never be able to escape him if he did. Oddly enough, it turns him on even more.

“Say something.” Jimin sees more than feels his face getting redder, his eyes glassy and wide, captured on video. 

Jeongguk smirks. “Something.” 

The tone of his voice is a tell-tale sign the Ringmaster is slipping through.

“Hi Ring,” Jimin sighs, relieved.

“Hi,” Jeongguk breathes hotly against his ear, pulling the phone back, keeping it at arm’s length so their full bodies are in frame. “Trop mignon quand tu rougis, mon p’tit loup.”

“Fuck.” 

Nothing would hold back the moan that slips through. The angle exaggerates it but Jimin looks tiny in Jeongguk’s arms, those gorgeous golden thighs bracketing Jimin’s paler legs, his strong arm wrapped around Jimin’s neck in a possessive, almost brutish grip. It’s so fucking hot.

“Didn’t think you’d show up,” Jimin giggles, loving how the tension they’ve felt since that night at the laundromat comes back tenfold.

“Want Jeongguk to send me away?” there’s a slight edge to his voice, that growly lisp of French mixing with a raspy, aroused tone.

As much as he loves the character, all Jimin wants right now is Jeongguk. So, he nods. 

The arm around his throat immediately vanishes. The rush of air takes Jimin by surprise and he gasps, a hand trailing all the way down to his bare thigh, the ticklish sensation making Jimin break out in goosebumps. 

There’s clear intention behind the touch, especially when Jeongguk’s fingers slide under the hem and start dragging it up. The shirt is oversized and flowy enough to fall mid thigh, but the shape of Jimin’s cock is now entirely visible and it’s one second away from peeking under the hem. 

While in the bathroom earlier, he’d ditched the boxers in hopes of Jeongguk jumping his bones the moment he stepped out so he’s wearing nothing underneath. And while Jimin is not exactly opposed to a naughty little tape (he can always ask Jeongguk to delete it later), the idea of his dick caught on camera and the suffocating tension between them has him feeling a tad exposed, completely at Jeongguk’s mercy.

Thinking it’s just Jimin playing coy, Jeongguk brings his hand up along the side of his hips, pushing the shirt all the way to Jimin’s waist, slowing to a stop when he meets nothing but soft skin. 

He immediately stops recording. 

Jeongguk is about to put his phone away when Jimin stops him. 

“Send them the pic first,” he whispers. The heat radiating off of Jeongguk’s skin is driving him nuts.

Jeongguk groans, rutting forward. “I should send the video instead,” he threatens, not really meaning it.

Jimin shakes his head, a little laugh escaping him. It sounds more nervous than expected, but the weight of Jeongguk’s hand exploring his body is undoubtedly distracting.

“That video is for your eyes only,” he says, hyper aware of the cock prodding his butt cheek. It feels massive, even through the fabric. 

“I’ll delete it,” Jeongguk promises, chin resting on Jimin’s shoulder so they both can see him open the KillaVilla group chat. 

He chooses one of the last photos taken, just before they switched to video. It’s a bit blurry, an askew shot that captured them from the chest up, the angle making it seem like it was taken mid fuck. Jeongguk stares at the lens while Jimin has his head thrown back over his shoulder, eyes rolled back and mouth open in a little ‘o’.

A shiver runs down Jimin’s back when Jeongguk presses send. 

As the picture loads, Jeongguk slowly works his free hand under Jimin’s t-shirt, smiling like a demon when Jimin’s breath hitches. 

He drags his palm up and down the length of Jimin’s cock, twisting at the top, testing the waters. Jimin keens, a beautiful whimper leaving his mouth when Jeongguk’s thumb starts tracing the ridge, flicking the little stretch of skin on the frenulum.

“F-Fuck—Jeongguk,” Jimin grabs weakly at his wrist in a plea to stop, eyes fluttering at the delicious sensation of Jeongguk easily fighting him off. 

He does stop, however, a few seconds later, when there’s a sudden non-stop chiming of incoming notifications. Jeongguk’s delighted chuckles reverberate against his back and Jimin is rather preoccupied with the hand he’s rutting into to notice the chaos they’ve caused with a single picture.

“Look,” Jeongguk whispers, drawing Jimin’s attention to the screen.

A flurry of messages come through, written in all caps.

Jeongguk, 1:31PM

[image_20240915.jpg]

 👅

Seokjin, 1:31PM

JEON JEONGGUK?????

WHAT IS THIS?????

??????????

???????????????????????

THIS IS A FAMILY GROUP CHAT

Namjoon, 1:31PM

hitting from the back huh

taught you well

Hoseok, 1:32PM

DAMN 😳

Namjoon, 1:32PM

mhm mhm that’s my boy

Seokjin, 1:32PM

ARE YOU WEARING A CONDOM

Yoongi, 1:32PM

the fuck is this porn on my screen

@Jeongguk SEND MORE THO

Jimin doesn’t get to read more. 

Jeongguk clicks off the chat, turning on do not disturb and tossing his phone aside. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” he muses, pinching Jimin’s hip. “Walking outta my bathroom with your ass out—tell me, did you finger yourself open, too?”

Jimin is struck by a full body shudder, sensing the shift in Jeongguk’s behaviour. The sudden crude wording and the way he’s lazily jerking him off makes Jimin’s head spin. “I—Fuck, don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

Jeongguk does just so, hand pausing at the base of Jimin’s cock in a loose grip. 

“And then you go and make me send that picture to my friends,” he whispers, dragging his tongue along the shell of Jimin’s ear. “Wasn’t expecting you to be a lil exhibitionist, hyung.”

“I’m—”

Jimin cries out, face burning with shame. It’s true, though.

And it all started with a lockscreen.

“Think you weren’t expecting that, either. A new kink to add to the list, perhaps?” Jeongguk keeps on teasing. “I might add it to mine as well. It’s hot seeing how turned on you are, knowing my friends think you’re taking cock right now.”

Jimin’s hands fly to Jeongguk’s thighs, needing some sort of support as he throws his head back and whines. Jeongguk is messing with him and Jimin fucking loves it. He could cum from the words alone.

“I’m a real softie, hyung.” Jeongguk starts, the arm around Jimin’s waist hoisting him up and tight against his chest. Jimin’s toes barely brush the floor. 

“Everything you’ve seen so far is the real me,” Jeongguk goes on, playfully sniffling him. “I’m the goofy, sappy, hopelessly romantic Jeongguk you met at the Choi’s. The one that asked you to sleep over, that wants to kiss you even when you have morning breath and buy you flowers just because they remind me of you.”

“But?” Jimin voices the unspoken ‘but’ Jeongguk left in the air.

“But,” Jeongguk smirks, wrapping both arms around Jimin, trapping him. “You were right.”

“I usually am.”

“There’s the side of me that wants to see you struggle to take my cock when I shove it in your mouth,” Jeongguk goes on, voice so low and gritty it’s almost as if he’s back in character. “That wants you drooling all over yourself to make it fit. That wanna see you drench my pillow with your tears, wanna watch your ass ripple as I fuck you doggy style.”

“F-Fuck—”

“You okay with that? ‘Cause if you say ‘yes’ I’m gonna fuck you until you’re gaping, pulling out to cum all over your back and watch it dribble down your ass just so I fuck it all back into you.”

“Yes—God, yes. Yes,” Jimin grinds on Jeongguk’s cock, grinning when he feels some wetness through the boxers. 

Seems Jeongguk isn’t that unaffected.

“Any hard limits I should know of?”

“Pee and poop,” Jimin chuckles. “The rest is fair game.”

Jeongguk bursts out laughing, breaking the heated spell. “Those are dangerous words, hyung.”

“As long as you finally fuck me?” he sing-songs, grinding down harder on Jeongguk’s raging boner. “Tie me up, spit on me—I don’t care.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

And then Jeongguk is pushing Jimin towards the bed, the both of them waddling like a unit. When Jimin’s back hits the mattress, Jeongguk follows, hovering over him until their noses touch, capturing his lips with his own. 

Jimin moans into the kiss, hands sneaking under the t-shirt to explore the muscles on Jeongguk’s back, feeling them shift under his touch. “Who let the alpha out? Who, who, who?” he teases, to the same tune of Who Let The Dogs Out.

Jeongguk just keeps laughing, sort of shaking his head, sort of kissing Jimin’s teeth. “You’re ridiculous.”

It’s refreshing, the lightheartedness they’ve found with each other. There’s no pressure to be extremely sexy, no need to overperform eroticism. They can be both hard as fuck, clear in their wish to fuck each other’s brains out, and they still find these pockets of fun that are so oddly intimate. 

“I’m so gonna destroy your ass,” Jeongguk vows amidst giggles. “You keep doubting my alpha and he hates it.”

Jimin laughs happily, smacking a kiss dead center on Jeongguk’s dramatic pout. “We have a problem, though,” he says as solemnly as he can with his ass being kneaded so enthusiastically. “Uni has been stressing me out so much it affected my natural slick production.” 

Jeongguk fights off a smile. “Oh, no. Really?”

“I’ve set an appointment with a doctor and all but…” Jimin shrugs. “I guess we’ll have to use lube like those lowly humans.”

“That’s okay, mon p’tit loup. I happen to have some.”

“Lucky me,” Jimin chirps with a cute little shoulder shimmy.

“Lucky me. I finally have you all to myself, hyung. And I’m gonna make good on it.”

Jimin snorts, pinching Jeongguk’s ass. “All bark and no bite.”

“No bite, you say?”

Riling Jeongguk up proves to be the right course of action.

In a swift move, he yanks Jimin’s head aside, exposing the delicious column of his throat, and sinks his teeth in right above the hickey he left on Thursday. It fucking stings.

“Ow, fuck!” Jimin winces, crying out in pain and tugging on Jeongguk’s hair so hard it must hurt. 

He tries jerking him away but Jeongguk remains unfazed, teeth scraping the flesh, nibbling and sucking to make sure it’ll bloom into a nice, rich purple later. 

“How’s that for a bite, huh?” Jeongguk huffs in a low growl, kissing the sore spot. “C’est pas mal?”

Jimin answers with a frustrated moan, tugging on Jeongguk’s hair until he gets the hint and kisses him.

This one is heated, all teeth and tongue, Jeongguk swallowing every little sound. And Jimin? He’s losing it. There’s a cock digging into his hip, a hand fisting his hair, fingers ghosting over his hole and he’s quickly descenting into a spiral of Jeongguk, Jeongguk, Jeongguk. 

“Alors, t’es plus si bavard, hein?” Jeongguk breathes into his mouth, breaking the kiss. 

Getting the gist but not truly understanding what Jeongguk says is absolutely infuriating. Still, Jimin answers the only way he can: melting into the mattress, thighs falling apart on invitation, mewling when Jeongguk’s hands come up to work his t-shirt off, fully exposing him.

It’s oddly reassuring, really. The safety and almost familiarity of his touch, even if it’s their first time. 

How easy it is to let himself be stripped bare, to let Jeongguk’s hands roam his chest to his liking. How there’s not a trace of the hesitancy he expected to feel, being intimate with someone in such a long time. 

Maybe it’s because desire is evident in Jeongguk’s eyes—in his posture, in his breathing. Maybe it’s because he knows Jeongguk would stop if he said so. 

“I’m gonna go get the lube, okay?” Jeongguk says with a last playful smooch, scrambling off the bed to go get it.

It’s cute how he stumbles to the bathroom in a rush, as if afraid Jimin would change his mind in the two seconds he’s left alone. 

As if Jimin’s heart isn’t about to burst. 

Everything about Jeongguk screams home—how he carries his heart on his sleeve, how he can be such a dimensional person, how he doesn’t really conform to the rules of society when it comes to expressing himself. How Jeongguk is so honest about his strengths and weaknesses, how he lets himself be someone who doesn’t just show one side of themselves. 

Jeongguk is a complex and nuanced novel Jimin wants to read again and again until he’s found all the little secrets woven between the lines. 

Determined to let him feel just as much, Jimin sits up on the edge of the bed, taking Jeongguk by the hand and pulling him to stand between his legs when he returns. 

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Jeongguk replies, voice laced with lust and something ridiculously close to adoration. Seemingly confused but completely on board, he throws the small bottle of lube and two condoms on the bed, patiently waiting for Jimin’s next move.

Making sure his eyes don’t waver, Jimin leans in tentatively, running his hands up Jeongguk’s thighs, pushing the t-shirt up enough to reveal the waistband of his boxers, pointedly ignoring the straining dick so close to his face.

There’s something incredibly intimate, possessive even, in the way Jeongguk runs his fingers through his hair, giving a bit of leeway. Jimin leans into the touch, pressing his face against Jeongguk’s lower belly, seeking the warmth of his skin. 

Slow and gentle, he starts to nuzzle at the waistband, the tip of his nose digging into that little pudge of skin protruding from the tight elastic.

“You smell good,” he says, loving the choked moan he gets out of Jeongguk. 

“It’s the fabric softener,” Jeongguk chuckles in response, the hint of amusement morphing into pleasure when Jimin starts rubbing his cheek along the length of his dick, mouthing over the head through the boxers.

“It’s you,” Jimin places a little teasing kiss on the tip, the sassy reply melting into a moan when Jeongguk’s fingers close in a tight fistful, tugging at the roots of his hair. 

It’s the soft taste of ownership in it that has Jimin squirming, that prompts him to finally pull the boxers down Jeongguk’s legs and dive in. 

That’s one hell of a cock. 

Determined to give Jeongguk a blowjob worthy of his perfect dick, Jimin wraps his lips around the head, tongue circling the crown in torturous swirls, teasing the leaking slit.

It’s been eons since he’s last swallowed a cock in real life, but Jimin has read a Library of Alexandria’s worth of smut online and this is his practical lesson. If the quivering of Jeongguk’s lower stomach and the quickening of his breath is any indicator, it seems he’s not only good in theory.

Finding a better angle, Jimin shuffles forward until his bum is barely on the bed, legs spread on either side of Jeongguk’s thighs. Wrapping a hand around the base, he takes Jeongguk back into his mouth, licking from the bottom up, going particularly slow over the head. It’s a bit naïve of him to believe Jeongguk will let him go at a snail’s pace, though. 

With a snap of his hips and a solid hold on Jimin’s hair, Jeongguk pushes his head down until his throat gives and his nose is buried in the neatly trimmed hairs of Jeongguk’s groin. 

It catches Jimin off guard. 

He immediately gags, throat constricting at the sudden intrusion, the loud retching noise soon melting into a choked moan. 

“S-Sorry,” Jeongguk hisses, easing the grip. “Fuck—sorry, hyung.” 

He tries pulling out but Jimin is not willing to give up yet. Breathing hard through his nose, he slackens his jaw and does his best to swallow Jeongguk’s dick like a pro, going a little limp. He stays still for a moment and then tilts his head back, letting the head of Jeongguk’s cock feel the entirety of his throat as it slides out.

Jeongguk’s moans are obscene. Loud. Unabashed.

So Jimin does it again, hollowing his cheeks and flattening his tongue, taking Jeongguk all the way down and swallowing tight to apply the right amount of pressure, making sure he feels everything. 

The loud pop his cock makes as it slides out is muffled by Jeongguk’s own hushed cursing. “Jesus! Fuck—’re you okay? Hyung?”

Jimin just nods, afraid he might retch or something. He leans on Jeongguk, resting his forehead on his hip, shaky hands gripping his thighs for support. A thick string of saliva dangles from his mouth, sticking to his chin when Jeongguk helps him sit back upright.

“Where did you learn that?” Jeongguk asks in awe, one hand pumping himself with lazy rolls of his wrist, the other kindly wiping the drool from Jimin’s chin.

“Fanfiction,” Jimin stutters, taken aback by Jeongguk’s full nakedness. He didn’t even notice him take off his shirt.

“Your wolfie porn, you mean.”

“It was a college enemies to lovers,” Jimin denies with a huffy grin. “Very human.”

The tame convo sprinkled over the lewd act of Jeongguk jerking off to his face makes Jimin want to both marry the boy on the spot and choke on his cock until he passes out. He’s leaning heavily towards the second option since there’s a perfect, smooth and pink and big and thick cock standing proudly in front of his face and he would like for it to be inside him right now, thank you very much. 

“As lovely as it is, are we gonna keep talking about fanfic?” Jeongguk smirks, two fingers slipping into Jimin’s mouth. “Or can I finally eat your ass like I’ve been dying to do?”

“Both?” Jimin chuckles around the digits, not knowing where to look—Jeongguk’s eyes or his dick. He chooses the dick.

Jeongguk laughs with him, a bit of the heavy arousal dissipating. He pulls his wet fingers out, smearing the saliva all over Jimin’s mouth. 

“No can do,” he says, thumb swiping playfully over Jimin’s cupid’s bow. “We only have a few hours until I have to go to work and I don’t wanna spend them talking about the omegaverse.”

“Can’t you multitask?” Jimin taunts, grateful for the little breather. “That’s a bit disappointing.”

Once again, the right thing to say.

One minute he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, Jeongguk in front of him. Next, Jimin has his face smushed into a pillow, Jeongguk holding him down by the scruff of his neck.

“First time and you already wanna push my forbidden buttons, hm?” Jeongguk’s voice comes by his ear in a quiet, mocking sneer. 

He has most of his weight on Jimin, knees by his hips, chest glued to his back. 

“I was gonna be a gentleman, sweet and boyfriendy because it’s the first time we fuck. But no—no,” he drags the vowel out, punctuating it with a little squeeze, thumb pressing into the hickey he left on Jimin’s neck. “You had to go all brat on me, mon p’tit loup. T’es en train de dépasser mes limites, et j’suis pas sûr que tu sois prêt pour ça, hyung.”

Though the threat is spoken with a gentle undertone, Jeongguk makes sure to deliver. Using his knees to spread Jimin’s legs further apart, he carves a place for himself between them, rubbing his cock along the cleft of Jimin’s ass with gentle rolls of his hips, increasing the pace until Jimin feels every fucking inch of it.

“You want me to be that Jeongguk?” he growls, kneading Jimin’s butt, digging into the plump flesh until it spills between his fingers. “I’m gonna be that Jeongguk.”

The touch is tender but purposeful, meant to reignite the fire between them. 

It works. 

Jimin’s breath quickens, arousal swirling hotly in the pit of his stomach where his dick is trapped under him.

“Enfin ce que je veux—toi, rien que toi.” Though not fully in character, that same roughness of the Ringmaster slips through Jeongguk’s voice. Seductive, a little mean even. Nothing but proof the Ringmaster is all but a part of Jeongguk himself. 

“Gguk,” Jimin turns his head to try and get some air but Jeongguk thinks he’s trying to escape, applying more of that deliciously painful pressure. “C-Can’t breathe.”

Jeongguk immediately eases the grip, dragging his palm down Jimin’s spine and settling, firm and possessive, on his other butt cheek. 

“You’re so pink and pretty,” he says. “Très joli, comme une poupée de porcelaine.”

Jimin mumbles something acquiescent into the pillow, loving the feeling of being pinned down and owned. 

Whatever he says Jeongguk hums in agreement, a finger grazing lightly over the puckered hole. “Did you wax for me or is it a personal preference?”

Jimin just laughs, hiding behind one hand. It’s answer enough.

“Well. Jimin-ssi,” Jeongguk announces rather pompously, enunciating each syllable like a fucking news anchor. “I’m gonna eat you out now.”

Jimin doesn’t know if the noise he makes is a giggle or a moan. The brief appearances of Jeongguk’s goofy side in between the dirty talk gives him the best sort of horny whiplash.

“Have a-at it,” he whines brokenly, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the first suck. 

Jeongguk meant it when he said he was gonna eat Jimin out. 

He doesn’t start with kittenish licks or teasing kisses, no. He goes full face, nose dragging along the crack, slurping loud and messy, tongue swirling and prodding, determined to rim Jimin within an inch of his life.

One hand massaging the sweaty line of Jimin’s spine while the other reaches for the lube, Jeongguk flattens his tongue, flicking the tip on every swipe, his harsh breaths fanning back on his face. To say it turns Jimin into a moaning mess is quite an understatement. 

“Oh fuck—stop I-I’m gonna cum,” he babbles, pushing back to meet every suck and bite to his ass, every drag and prod of a warm, wet tongue. “Gguk—”

Jeongguk pulls back with a sharp inhale, leaning a bit of his weight on Jimin’s back as he drizzles more lube all over his ass. “Cold?” he snickers, watching Jimin clench. “Sorry, let me warm it up.”

And then the room is filled with more of that wet, lewd slurping and Jimin melting under the tongue working his ass like he’s a Michelin star dessert. His voice breaks into whimpers, breathy and needy, a choked sob spilling onto the pillow when Jeongguk’s tongue plunges deep past the tight ring of muscle, hot and stiff against his walls.

“Fuck me,” Jimin sobs, fisting the sheets so hard he’s probably ripped holes in them by now. “Fuck me, Gguk. Fuck me, fuck me—fuck me, please. Please, please, please.”

Jeongguk just grunts in reply, slurping the drool and lube running down Jimin’s taint like an animal—like Jimin is a drug he wants to overdose on. A hunter’s game that is his, and only his, to devour. 

He is purposely sloppy, dribbling all over Jimin’s taint and balls, pulling back to spit and watch it drip. 

It’s hot and lewd and Jimin doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s the first time he gets his ass eaten, and more than the sensation, it’s the sound that gets him dizzy with want—the wet, filthy squelches and slurps of Jeongguk having the time of his life with this messy, delicious rim job.

“I fingered myself already. Jeongguk—please. Fuck, just—”

Jeongguk doesn’t budge. In fact, he fucking laughs, smacking a hand dead center on the small of Jimin’s back to pin him down, the other striking across his butt like a whip.

Jimin cries out—in pain or pleasure, doesn’t matter. The blooming heat of another strike spreads across his leg, the pinprick tingling almost gone when Jeongguk strikes him yet again. It’s harder than the first two.

“Te l’avais dit—se passe comme je veux, baby.” He huffs, pouring more lube over Jimin’s hole. “You keep doubting my alpha, now he wants to prove himself.”

Jimin barely hears himself laugh over the throb of blood in his ears and Jeongguk’s own heavy breathing, much less when the fingers spreading lube all over his ass plunge deep into him. 

Jeongguk pushes all four of them in, down to the knuckle. It’s indecent. Overwhelming, really. The way Jimin’s hole stretches to accommodate the intrusion, the way Jeongguk’s skilled fingers curl and prod, cruelly assaulting his prostate. Every nerve in his body burns with need, Jeongguk fingering him hard and fast, all while spewing the most delicious profanities in a pot-pourri of Korean and French.

Jimin meets him bar for bar, mumbling an incoherent chant of Jeongguk’s name and pleas for his cock that go unanswered. And then, with one more precise hit to his prostate, Jimin screams, whole body tensing as he clenches around Jeongguk’s fingers. The orgasm takes him by surprise, Jimin moaning and writhing under Jeongguk as he cums untouched, spilling all over the bedding and his own stomach.

Jeongguk doesn’t stop. He keeps pulling all the way out just to shove his fingers back in, over and over, helping Jimin ride out the orgasm until he’s a whimpering, overstimulated pile of cum and sweat. 

It’s only when Jimin starts begging him to stop that he complies, fingers slipping out with a loud schlop. 

“You with me?” he asks softly, gently coaxing Jimin to lay on his back. 

Jimin nods, trembling head to toe. 

The aftershocks are intense, his legs still spasming, lips quivering as he tries to gather his bearings. “That was…” he mumbles to the ceiling, numbly wiping the tears running down his temples. “That was…”

His loopy, satisfied smile vanishes when the bed starts moving, almost as if Jeongguk was bouncing on it. Looking down, Jimin realises it’s because Jeongguk is frantically jerking himself off, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“What’re you doin?” he slurs, eyes still a bit glazed over. “T’fuck you’re doin—”

It finally dawns on him. Jeongguk is trying to make himself cum as quickly as possible, chasing his own climax.

“The fuck are you doing,” Jimin asks again, this time louder, slapping Jeongguk’s hand away. 

He props himself up on his elbows, meeting Jeongguk’s hazy eyes with an angry, disapproving frown.

Jeongguk folds. 

“My dick’s gonna explode,” he cries, voice wavering from the pleasure cut too short. “I didn’t want to push—I thought you needed time to—”

“Oh, shut up!” Jimin spits angrily. “I did not wait a lifetime for a taste of your dick only for you to finger me and call it a day.”

Jeongguk snorts in between each breath, downturned lips spreading into a wicked grin. “It was two days.”

“Well, then I’ll give you two seconds to be inside me,” Jimin hisses, grabbing Jeongguk by the chin and giving his head a mean jerk.

“Or what?”

“Or I’ll cut off your dick, freeze and ride it while your bleeding, castrated ass watches me do it.”

Jeongguk’s smirk is infuriating. 

Jimin wants to sit on his face. Maybe cum on it, too.

“So I’m gonna turn around, and you’re gonna fuck me doggy style,” Jimin pats his cheek. “Like you promised.”

Jeongguk chuckles. “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Jimin nods, nose in the air. “Then you’re gonna fuck me again in the shower, right before you have to leave for work. And then, I’ll bombard your phone with nudes from the moment you’re gone,” Jimin’s voice lowers to a whisper, eyes following the path his thumb traces over Jeongguk’s lower lip, watching it part in a shuddering breath, glistening with spit and lube. “Videos of me fucking myself on my fingers, right here on your bed, while you’re stuck scaring people all night.”

The laugh he gets out of Jeongguk is incredulous. And a tiny bit mesmerised. 

“Who the fuck are you?”

“This is my omega talking,” Jimin shoots back, pulling until Jeongguk is on top of him. “He’s very—let your weight on me—he’s very spoiled.”

When he doesn’t, Jimin uses his elbows to push Jeongguk’s arms away, making him lose his balance and nearly faceplant on top of him. 

“Stop. I’m gonna crush you.”

“No shit Sherlock,” Jimin deadpans. “That’s the whole point.”

Jeongguk’s eyes are full of mirth, shining like two beautiful galaxies. “Okay,” he sighs, letting all of his weight on Jimin, completely smothering him. 

Fucking heaven. 

He’s about to start mauling the other side of Jimin’s neck when Jimin stops him with three little pats to the ribs. 

“What?”

“Where’s your dick? I don’t feel it in my ass.”

The whole bed shakes with Jeongguk’s laughter. 

He hides his face in Jimin’s shoulder and laughs, his whole body shaking as the joyful sound fills the entire room. Jimin can’t help but laugh with him, holding onto his shoulders and holding him through the giggly,  intimate embrace. 

“I’m waiting.”

Jeongguk is still chuckling when he says, “Gimme like, a minute. I don’t wanna cum too soon.”

Jimin huffs and harrumphs, kicking his legs, limbs falling to the mattress in an overly dramatic plop. He looks like a blushing, pouty starfish throwing a tantrum.

“Stop pouting.”

“No.”

“Jimin.”

“I want dick,” he whines, intentionally high and needy, trying to grab at it. 

Jeongguk stops him and, surprisingly, the flash of exasperated fondness in his eyes doesn’t look out of place in the voracious picture he paints, flushed from the chest up, sweat clinging to his skin, hair a bird’s nest and dick so hard it’s a deep shade of pink, leaking all over them like a fucking faucet. 

As much shit he’s giving Jimin for being a needy little bitch, Jeongguk isn’t faring much better. 

That’s why Jimin looks him dead in the eye and says, “When your friend said you had a pornstar dick, I thought he meant performance-wise.”

The air shifts instantaneously.

Gone is the playful tone, replaced by a delicious tension that drowns them head to toe.

Jeongguk is rough when he flips Jimin back on his stomach, one hand pinning him down by the scruff of his neck, the other pressing between his shoulder blades.

“I asked for a fucking minute,” Jeongguk bites out, giving more of his weight until Jimin’s face is smushed into the pillow.

Jimin just grins, a soft whimper sounding low in his throat when Jeongguk tightens the grip, scruffing him like an unruly pup.

“Yeah, let’s see if you’re gonna keep smiling like that.”

Goosebumps erupt all over Jimin’s skin at the tone of his voice, that gritty, raspy essence of the Ringmaster slipping through once more. The hand on his nape trails down his spine to the fat meat of his ass, another harsh slap echoing throughout the room before the sting registers, sharp and unforgiving. 

Jeongguk hums in appreciation, jiggling the fat of Jimin’s ass, fondling and kneading, spreading him open as if assessing if he’s good enough, breedable enough. “Arch your back,” he commands, pushing Jimin’s thigh apart. 

Jimin obeys, rising to his knees and spreading them apart. He dips his spine, shuddering when a cold finger probs at his entrance, dipping inside all the way to the knuckle. 

Mean as he is, Jeongguk just  brushes his finger along Jimin’s prostate, alternating between featherlight teasing and pressing hard on the spot. It’s borderline torture.

“Please,” Jimin begs into the sheets, his own swollen cock throbbing between his legs, drooling precum all over the bed. 

“What did you say?”

“You know v-very well what I just—ngh, fuck.” Jimin writhes under the cruel pumping of Jeongguk’s fingers. “Enough teasing.”

His brain is gone, mind a static buzz of hot heat, overcome by a gut wrenching desire to get fucked that worsens with Jeongguk’s cock jumping in equal need, the head bumping against the back of Jimin’s thigh and it’s just pure fucking torture. There’s Jimin, burning with need like an exposed nerve, and Jeongguk just keeps toying with him, even going as far as giving his neglected cock some attention, giving little mean flicks to the head. 

Jimin screams in frustration, feet kicking and all. It’s only then that Jeongguk removes his fingers completely, a commanding hand finding its way to the back of Jimin’s neck to keep him in place.

“What?!” he snarls, roughly jerking Jimin’s head back with a tight fistful of hair. “Why’re you whining?”

“F-Fuck me,” Jimin begs. “Please, please. Please, fuck me—”

“Are you gonna keep doubting me?”

“No. No—Gguk, no, no—”

“Are you gonna be good and let me fuck you?” Jeongguk asks close to his ear, voice low and mean. 

“Yes, yes—yes,” Jimin chants like a prayer. “God, yes—please… Please, just fuck me.”

“I will, baby. I will,” Jeongguk coos through a harsh exhale, giving Jimin’s hole a slap. “Breathe.”

Jimin tries, he really does. But Jeongguk grabs him by the hips like a savage, and Jimin is impaled on his cock in one single thrust. He screams, eyes rolling to the back of his skull as he’s finally stuffed full. 

Jeongguk gives it good, groaning and moaning above him, hip bones digging into the tender skin of Jimin’s cheeks hard enough to bruise. 

He sets a rough pace from the start.

“Alors, t’es satisfait—happy now, hyung?” he grunts amidst the filthy smacks of skin on skin. Jimin’s answer is a pained hiss, raising on his elbows when Jeongguk tugs his head back. “Answer me.”

“Yeah,” Jimin is all smiles, high on pleasure.

“Yeah? Ça fait du bien—feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.”

Jeongguk is a man of his word. 

He holds Jimin down and fucks him hard and fast, heavy balls slapping against Jimin’s taint, sweat sprinkling all over his back. And Jimin meets him thrust for thrust, throwing his ass back as much as he can, clenching tight around the thick cock dragging along his walls. 

It’s an immediate addiction. Jeongguk’s touch burns as much as every filthy word spewing out of his mouth. It makes Jimin too hot in his own skin, drooling all over himself as he’s taken apart by the cute boy he met at the laundromat three nights ago. 

“Can’t wait for the toy to be delivered,” Jeongguk cackles, leaning over Jimin so he can properly mount him. “Stick a knot into you—fuck, it’s gonna make you gape so good.”

“You bought it?!” Jimin laughs along, borderline delirious. Yeah, he can’t wait either. “Ungh—fuck, you’re so deep—”

Jeongguk laughs, a slight mocking lilt hidden within it, catching Jimin by surprise when he suddenly wraps his arm around Jimin’s neck in that same chokehold from before, cradling his head in the crook of his elbow. Only this time it’s a proper choke, restricting some of Jimin’s airflow. 

“This is what you wanted?”

“M-Mhm,” Properly mounted like a breeding bitch, Jimin can only lay there and take it.

“Wish I had my phone,” Jeongguk moans into his ear, jostling them further up the bed with every thrust. “You look so fucking pretty taking cock, hyung.”

“God, Jeongguk—”

“Wish you could see yourself,” he goes on, carding his fingers through Jimin’s damp hair, pushing back the sweaty locks away from his forehead. “T’es ravissant—so, so pretty.”

Jimin manages to heave in a breath before Jeongguk shoves two fingers into his mouth, making him choke on them with every thrust, knocking him forward on the sheets—his head is about to hit the headboard.

“Stuffed full from both ends now,” Jeongguk sneers, pressing down on the back of Jimin’s tongue. “C’est si bon, mon p’tit loup—t-trop bon.”

It’s pure bliss. 

Jimin lets Jeongguk do as he pleases, sucking onto his fingers like a good slut while Jeongguk uses him, greedy in his taking. 

Fueled by his choked moans, Jeongguk picks up speed, adjusting his knees for leverage. “You’re so fucking tight,” he grits out, angling his hips so the swollen head of his cock hits Jimin’s prostate. “Ne me dis pas que t’es encore vierge, hyung—ugh, tight like this, you might be.”

A mess of tears, snot and saliva stream down Jimin’s face, mixing with the sweat clinging to their skin. He’s reeling from the lack of oxygen and the pleasure flowing through his veins, a choked moan escaping in between Jeongguk’s fingers when he withdraws them, smearing the frothing drool all over Jimin’s cheeks.

“You’re so fucking hot, Jimin.”

“M-More, ‘ore, m’ore—” Jimin moans, Jeongguk fucking little high-pitched whines out of him in between every syllable. “Y-Yes—ngh, fuck—”

“Fuck, don’t squeeze like that,” Jeongguk loses rhythm, caught off guard. 

Jimin clenches around him harder, wanting to feel every inch and twitch of Jeongguk’s cock. Jeongguk responds in kind, leaning forward and fucking him. 

“How does it feel, mm?” he grunts, punctuating every word with a deep thrust. “To be properly mounted?”

It feels fucking incredible. Jimin tells him as much, even if the words get lost in the needy, wheezy whines drooling out of his mouth. 

Jeongguk is gonna drive him insane.

“Pas si mal?” His voice is like poison, slipping through Jimin’s psyche to unravel whatever sanity is left. “Alors, ça fait quoi? C’est un peu trop fort, non?”

The thick Busan slur with the gaspy French sounds so fucking delicious it’s almost as if Jimin can cum from Jeongguk’s voice alone, the foreign words spoken so sinfully against his skin seeping through the cracks to wrap him a spell he can’t shy away from.

“Fuck—turn around, I wanna see your face.”

Jimin barely has time to register the request or the fact Jeongguk pulled out so abruptly. He’s manhandled onto his back, Jeongguk’s half-lidded eyes greedily drinking him in.

Dizzy from the flip, Jimin needs a second to absorb the sight of Jeongguk kneeling between his legs, jerking himself off, the assertive movement filling Jimin’s veins with a primitive, almost animalistic desperation to be throroughly fucked. 

Tongue too heavy to vocalise it, Jimin brings his legs up, exposing his gaping hope with bleary, pleading eyes and needy little moans. 

Instead of shoving his cock back in right away, Jeongguk pushes Jimin’s legs further up towards his chest, sweaty palms spreading Jimin’s cheeks apart to get a good look. 

Jimin writhes under the scrutiny, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. It’s crude but so fucking hot.

“Wish you could see yourself gaping like this,” Jeongguk grunts, nostrils flaring, pupils so incredibly dilated it’s as if he’s racked up some lines of coke. “Poor little cul clenching around nothing, so fucking empty without my cock filling you up, hein?”

God, that mouth.

Jimin is a mess of arousal but Jeongguk isn’t that far off. The clenched jaw, the ragged breaths, the wild eyes—Jeongguk looks feral, flushed all over, sweaty and sticky, damp hair strands sticking to his face.

And then he goes and spits directly on Jimin’s quivering hole. 

“M’th,” Jimin giggles deliriously, tongue lolling out. Jeongguk is so fucking deep he can feel him in his throat.

“What’d you say?” 

“Mouth,” he repeats, vowel stretched into a moan.  “Spit in my mouth.”

He hasn’t even finished his sentence and Jeongguk is already grabbing him by the jaw, thumb and fingers digging into his cheeks hard enough to feel his teeth. He pulls Jimin’s mouth open wide, letting a fat blob drip down his lips onto Jimin’s waiting tongue, watching as it slides down, collecting on the back of his throat, the filthy act turning into a wet, sloppy kiss.

Jeongguk pries his legs open easily, Jimin’s surprised yelp melting into a moan when Jeongguk finally sinks back into him, all the way to the hilt. God, he fucking loves Jeongguk’s cock.

“T’es une peste, toi.” Jeongguk whispers, the words messily shaped against Jimin’s mouth.

“Mm?”

“You,” Jeongguk grins. “Nasty little thing, aren’t you?”

Jimin retaliates by clenching up—a weak, breathy moan slipping past Jeongguk’s slacked lips. When Jeongguk wraps a hand around his throat, Jimin knows he’s ruined for life. 

“Cum in me,” he gasps, wrapped up in that fuzzy tingling of mild asphyxiation. “Cum in me—baby, cu-um in me.”

Jeongguk snarls like a beast, picking up speed as he pushes further, folding Jimin in half. Like this, Jimin can clearly see Jeongguk disappear into him, the way his cock glistens with spit and lube, the frothy ring gathered at the base of his cock stretching into thin bubbly strings with every thrust. 

Jimin can’t look away. It’s mesmerising, seeing his rim stretch wide to accommodate Jeongguk, the grip still tight enough to have it drag and cling every time Jeongguk pulls back. 

It’s only then he notices there’s no thick rubber rim at the base of his cock. 

“C-Con’om—” 

“Wearin’,” Jeongguk grunts, not stopping. “T’is ultra thin.”

Jimin doesn’t hear him though. 

Something about the idea of them fucking raw hits a nerve and Jimin’s vision goes white, body locking up as he cums wholly untouched. 

Jeongguk talks him through it, nasty little promises breathed right against his ear, sneaking a hand between them to milk Jimin of all the cum he can spill.

“Vas-y, vas-y, baby—that’s it. That’s it.”

Jeongguk keeps going, praising Jimin on how he’s taking him so well, how beautiful his hair looks fanned out on the pillow, how cute he sounds cumming on his cock.

Jimin answers with tiny pained whimpers that fall past his slacked lips with every thrust, hole so tender it’s almost numb by now, willing his limbs to cooperate as he tries to keep holding onto Jeongguk as he chases his own orgasm.

“K’p goin’,” he moans, choking on his tears at this point. 

“Nghn–no, no. Another,” Jeongguk grunts, hips snapping faster. “C’mon baby, gimme another.”

“C-Can’t. I can’t—” Jimin whines into the kiss Jeongguk steals from him, too weak to really reciprocate. He feels cockdumb, crying out a pained Ggukie after a particularly strong snap of his hips.

“Come for me again,” Jeongguk pants into his mouth, setting a brutal, unforgiving pace. “You can do it, baby—donne-m’en un autre, allez…”

Jimin starts sliding up the bed, Jeongguk thrusting a couple more times before he grabs Jimin by the hips and drags him back down with renewed vigour, thrusts hard and rough.

“Jeongguk!” Jimin cries out, a fresh wave of tears streaming down his temples, Jeongguk meeting little resistance now that he’s all loose, telling Jeonggukie how much it hurts, babbling some other incoherent nonsense.

Jeongguk shushes him gently. “A little more,” the drops of his sweat sliding down the tip of his nose, landing on Jimin’s cheek. “Come on, baby—”

“P-Please, please. I can’t—please…”

Jeongguk doesn’t relent, grunting and huffing, fucking him until Jimin is crying out through a dry orgasm, cock twitching pathetically even if nothing dribbles out. 

“Yeah, hyung—” Jeongguk moans, erratic thrusts drawing the most obscene sounds from him. “Ah putain—that’s it, baby. That’s it.”

Jimin sobs into his mouth, mumbling some jumbled sting of vowels and curses, riding the wave. Still, he lays there and takes it, pliant and fucked out of his mind, while Jeongguk seeks his own climax, panting hotly in Jimin’s ear as he picks up the pace, frantic and desperate, like he can’t help but take and take and take. 

He suddenly sits back on his heels, pulling Jimin half off the bed, gripping his waist tight to ram back into him, rhythm sloppy as he focuses on getting his fill. The new angle sends Jimin straight into overstimulation, prostate assaulted with every slam of Jeongguk’s cock, rim swollen and sore, everything around him blurring at the edges, the sensory overload making him kick and squirm, trying to escape the assault of pleasure. 

Sex with Jeongguk is intoxicating. Both more and exactly what Jimin imagined it would be.

And while he knows this is just the first of (hopefully) million times they have sex, Jimin tries to commit to memory the image of Jeongguk—face red the exertion, sweat drops hanging from the tips of his hair, skin flushed and dewy, mumbling what are definitely French profanities as he finally loses himself to pleasure. 

“I’m–ngh, fuck. I—gonna cum, ah putain—I’m cumming,” he groans, hips twitching, cock pulsing as he cums deep inside. Jimin sighs dreamily, stretching his arms above his head, some weird sense of victory coursing through his body with every little jolt of Jeongguk’s cock filling up the condom. 

It’s warm, his cum. Jimin can almost feel it, and he wishes there was no condom at all, just so it would trickle down his ass with every little shallow thrust Jeongguk gives, riding out his orgasm. 

God bless whoever invented the ultra-thin Skyn. 

After what feels like a bucket full of cum, Jeongguk plops down on top of Jimin, body lax and spent, stomach twitching with the last pulses of his cock. That was one hell of an orgasm.

They stay like that for a minute or two, struggling to catch their breath, souls sinking back into their bodies. Jeongguk sounds so out of breath he’d probably pass out if he tried to move. Still, he slowly helps Jimin lower his legs into a more comfortable position, stroking his thighs soothingly with trembling hands. 

Vocal chords still stunned, Jimin thanks him with just a satisfied purr, finding strength to bring his arms around Jeongguk’s shoulders and hug him close, taking all of his weight on top of him until he’s literally getting crushed.

It’s silent, the aftermath. Just the hum of the fridge and the muffled noise of the city outside mingling with their breaths, heartbeats gradually synching. 

Jimin starts to doze off, somewhere between consciousness and dreamland, so he startles when a loud laugh echoes bright and jolly across the room.

“What?” he slurs, feeling Jeongguk hide the tail end of a smile on his neck.

“How am I supposed to go to work after this?” Jeongguk whines with a soft, loony smile on his face, tilting his head to catch Jimin’s lips in a cosy kiss, noses brushing lightly as they wind down from the high. “My performance’s gonna be subpar at best.”

Jimin is all smiles, pushing some hair out of Jeongguk’s eyes. God, he’s so whipped for Jeongguk it’s truly disgusting. 

“I’ll buy you a Bacchus. Hyung’s treat,” he says, shrugging as best as he can with Jeongguk’s dead weight on top of him. 

“Marry me.”

Jimin frowns. “I thought we just mated?”

Jeongguk’s smile is everything. “That’s true.”

Jimin grins softly, nosing Jeongguk’s cheek until he gets the hint and kisses him again. They’re both exhausted and filthy, skin caked with saliva and cum and sweat, but they’re happy. 

Actually, truly happy.

It makes Jimin want to share his thoughts—more like word vomit all over Jeongguk. But he holds back. 

Some other time he’ll tell Jeongguk this is the third time he’s ever had sex, and that it honestly felt like the actual first. Will jokingly ask if they’re actual wolf soulmates, and if that’s why they found each other.

But not today. Today he’ll just bask in the afterglow, somehow knowing he won’t have to worry about his heart withstanding another deception. As he once told Taehyung—a heart that’s cracked, not broken. 

And he knows that even those cracks will be soon fixed by a couple drops of Jeongguk kintsugi. 

They stay like that for a few more minutes, sharing small kisses, the both of them sticky and gross.

Jeongguk is the first to move. “Let me pull out,” he groans, taking the warmth with him. 

Jimin hates it. His ass is beyond sore but his traitorous cock still gives the tiniest kick when he looks down in time to see Jeongguk slide out of him, a thin line of lube stringing from the head of Jeongguk’s dick to his hole before it breaks. 

It’s gross. And absolutely sinful.

Jeongguk seems to share the sentiment. 

He breaks it off easily, pulling out the condom and tying it up to discard later. It’s so thin it’s almost translucent, the reservoir holding an impressive amount of cum.

“Why’re you staring?” Jeongguk asks, amused by Jimin’s laser focus on the condom. “Sad it’s gone to waste?”

Jimin huffs, averting his eyes in an almost shy tilt of his head. 

“Oh, so now you can’t handle the dirty talk?”

“Shut up,” Jimin hides his giggles behind his hands. “I’m cancelling the shower fuck,” he says. “That’s undoable—you ripped me a new asshole.”

Jeongguk’s bunny smile finally makes an appearance.

“That’s your own fault.”

It’s so infuriating. Jimin sort of wants to throttle him.

Instead, he opens his arms and Jeongguk goes easily, hugging him close. They roll onto their sides, legs tangling in the sheets.

“Did I hurt you? Was I too rough?” The hint of worry shows in his words, and Jimin is quick to ease his mind.

“No, of course not.” They share a couple more chaste kisses, Jeongguk gently massaging Jimin’s lower back and thighs. “That was the best fuck ever.”

“The best, huh?”

“Eye roll emoji.”

Jeongguk smiles so bright his entire face glows. “Heart eyes emoji.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Jimin mumbles, kissing his softly,  fingers light as feathers brushing across his cheek, scratching his scalp, tracing along his closed eyelids, up the slope of his nose.

“The correct grammar is ‘your idiot’,” Jeongguk whispers, pulling back to look at him.

Their eyes meet and those beautiful onyx beads hold the same certainty his own eyes must reflect. Those doe eyes tell him everything he needs to know—

Trust me.

I know.

I feel it, too.

Jimin finds the answer to a question he doesn’t remember asking in the contours of Jeongguk’s face, in the soft waves that frame it, in the innocent shape of his eyes, in the bowed shape of his lips, in the sharp jawline that gives strength to the mostly soft, boyish features.

He seems in him a partner, a human he trusts. A person he can share his life with, can hold out his hands and say ‘we can do it alone, but wouldn’t it be awesome if we did it together?’. 

Jeongguk is truly the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. 

“Do you have to go?” Jeongguk suddenly asks in a low, timid voice.

“Are you kicking me out already?” Jimin teases, pinching his cheek. 

“No—no. I just—fuck, I don’t know. Do you have to go back to the dorms? Some assignment that’s due tomorrow or something?” 

“Hm, no?” Jimin frowns. “What are you even saying?”

Jeongguk groans, turning to hide his face in the pillow, blushing like crazy.

“Gguk, whatever it is, just say it.”

“Uchifasktostay?” Jeongguk nearly suffocates himself by speaking into the pillow. 

“I don’t speak Russian,” Jimin smiles, trying to make him roll back on his side. “Why’re you so shy all of a sudden?”

Jeongguk says something else, flopping like a little amoeba before gathering his courage and facing Jimin, bravely holding eye contact. His cheeks and ears are incredibly red.

“Is it too much if I ask you to stay?”

“One fuck and you already want me to move in?” Jimin teases, caressing his cheek.

“I hate that I have to cut this short already because I need to get ready for work but I sort of want to spend the rest of this Sunday night with you,” Jeongguk takes Jimin’s hand in his, interlocking their fingers. “We don’t have to—you know. Fuck or anything. We can watch a movie, or you can lecture me on some more wolf porn lore—”

“You want me to wait for you here?” Jimin clarifies gently, heart growing ten times its size. Fuck, is it too early to say he’s in love?

Jeongguk nods, biting back a smile.

“What if I rob you blind?”

Jeongguk shrugs, lips jutting out in a pout. “It’s not like you haven’t already stolen my most prized possession.”

“If you say your heart I’m gonna gag worse than I did on your dick.”

Silence.

Jeongguk blinks. And then he’s smiling, brighter than ever. He pounces like an overgrown pup, throwing himself over Jimin, peppering his cheeks with wet, unnecessarily loud kisses. 

Jimin’s never been more grateful he loves doing laundry at 2AM. 

It’s funny. Somewhere down the road he’ll have to tell people he met Jeongguk at a laundromat, wearing slippers and Bonobono socks. 

He should personally thank the Chois and their laundromat for this serendipitous matchmaking. Give them a gift basket of Tide Pods or something. 

Well, given the state of Jeongguk’s sheets (and whatever sort of bodily fluids it’s been drenched with), they’ll soon have to pay Choi’s 24h Self-Service Coin Wash another 2AM visit. 

—

After a hot shower (where they did not, in fact, fuck again) and a hearty bowl of beef broth Jeongguk heated up for them, Jimin shoots Taehyung a text of his whereabouts while Jeongguk gets ready, taking his daily supplements and getting in a couple vocal exercises.

He tries not to get in the way, just basking in the post-sex glow still clinging to his skin, simply admiring Jeongguk’s existence. He’s so fucking whipped it’s actually embarrassing. 

The fact he’s wearing Jeongguk’s clothes doesn’t help either, feeding into that comforting, happy domesticity they’ve found in each other. If it also taps into Jimin’s love for the omegaverse and their ongoing ‘wolf bit’ it’s not one’s business.

Jimin hops on the bed, sitting cross-legged beside Jeongguk, watching him put on his socks. They’re normal socks, white and boring. 

He starts running his fingers over the hood of Jeongguk’s hoodie, noticing his eyes reflect the bluish glow of the phone shining on his face when he starts texting back and forth with his friends, asking if Namjoon can give him a ride to the park. 

Feeling his gaze, Jeongguk looks up, head tilted inquisitively. “What?”

“Nothing,” Jimin shakes his head, leaning in to close the gap between them. “Just admiring you.”

It’s really fucking cute, how Jeongguk is physically unable to hide the massive neon sign on his forehead that spells I JUST HAD SEX.

“Am I that irresistible?” he jests, playing it off. 

“Mhm,” Jimin agrees easily, clinging to his arm. “Stole my heart with gory halloween makeup and corny French lines.”

Jeongguk’s laughter is wholly unrestrained. 

“Yeah, I’m corny but you like it,” he tuts, tossing his phone and taking Jimin’s face in his hands, capturing his lips with his own. “C’est pas ma faute si je suis irrésistible.”

They share a couple kisses, slow and chaste, until Jeongguk’s phone starts buzzing with a call. It’s brief, just Namjoon saying he’ll be dropping by to pick Jeongguk up in about fifteen minutes.

Groaning and whining like a kid that doesn’t wanna go to school, Jeongguk starts collecting his things, dramatically shoving his ID card into his backpack like it’s an absolute nuisance.

Jimin kindly reminds him that tonight is the official opening of the season and he’s a main character so he should get his head back in the game. When that doesn’t work, Jimin tries another route: he promises another round of celebratory sex later tonight.

Now that backfires beautifully, launching Jeongguk into a rap-worthy rant on how unfair it is and how he is supposed to care about his job when he’s just gonna think of eating Jimin’s ass with cherry sauce and what not.

It goes on for so long he’s still singing praises to Jimin’s ass in the elevator, Jimin resorting to a quick makeout session to shut him up, forcing Jeongguk into a corner and French-kissing him from ninth to ground floor. 

If Jeongguk holds his backpack in front of his crotch all the way to the convenience store, it’s simply because he doesn’t want to bump it into anything. Nothing else.

It’s a small store but it has all the essentials—meaning soju, couque d’asses and honey butter chips. 

They grab a basket and beeline straight to the beverages, Jimin grumbling that he doesn’t wanna wait downstairs with him because Jeongguk’s friends will notice the hickeys on his neck and his overall dishevelled, obviously limping state. 

Jeongguk politely reminds him that, thanks to a certain picture, his friends are most certainly aware Jeongguk spent the last couple hours balls deep in him. And if Jimin holds the basket in front of his crotch and starts ranting about the available fillings for samgak kimbap, it’s because they’ve taken too long to pick one.

They banter back and forth, throwing little innuendos at each until Jimin snaps and steals a kiss near the ramens. 

He also makes Jeongguk down a Bacchus energy drink and two small water bottles, claiming he sweat so much he’s probably dehydrated and if he passed out on the job Jimin would be the one to blame.

Jeongguk loves the fussing, but he still fights Jimin on paying for the snacks. 

He’s sliding the card back into his wallet when a notification pops up on his phone, and instead of a ‘I’m here’ under Namjoon’s name, it’s ‘look outside’. 

The bell chimes obnoxiously loud when Jeongguk all but yanks the door open, a familiar Mercedes pulling to the curb on the other side of the narrow street.

Jimin is just behind him, carrying the bag of snacks. He’s gonna ask him what happened, but the question dies in his tongue when he notices Jeongguk’s smug expression slowly morphing into that utter mortification the moment the windows roll down ominously.

“What the—”

The quiet street is then bombarded by an absurdly loud, downright inappropriate choice of a song. 

Jeongguk screams every single profanity known to men, crouching into a tiny ball of embarrassment outside the CU, but it’s all drowned by I Just Had Sex blasting from the car speakers.

“I just had se-e-e-e-ex!” Seokjin screeches from the passenger seat, belting out the lyrics. “And it fe-elt so good!”

“Oh, my God, oh my God, oh my God!” Jeongguk yells into his hands, torn between scrambling to his feet or punching a hole in the pavement and burying his head like an ostrich. “What the fuck—turn it off, turn it off—hyung, what the fuck?!”

The car is a cacophony of laughter and off-key singing, Hoseok sliding the side door open with a resounding “It felt so good when I did it with my penis!”

Jimin knows he’s probably redder than Jeongguk, but he also can’t stop himself from joining their little skit, laughing so hard he’s crying, racked up by a fit of giggles.

“Turn it off, please!” Jeongguk yells, mortified. He tries throwing his body in through the driver’s window and reach for the panel, but he can’t get past Namjoon. The boys take absolute joy in his misery, belting out the crude lyrics like it’s the national anthem, clapping proudly.

Jimin reckons the song is the best case scenario. Jeongguk would probably flee to Alaska if they’d shown up with balloons and a sign that said ‘Congratulations on getting laid!’ or something equally embarrassing because he knows Taehyung would do such a thing. 

And then Namjoon (a saint!) turns down the volume. “Get in, kid. We’re gonna be late for work,” he says, eyes flicking to Jimin. “Hi, Jimin.”

“Hi.”

The car explodes in hoots and hollering, those flirty catcalling whistles thrown at him from all sides.

“How’s your ass?” Namjoon asks.

“Were you mauled by a bear?” Hoseok teases from the backseat.

They’re all looking him up and down with knowing smiles, Yoongi leaning over the middle seat to shoot Jimin a wink, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively when he asks, “How was it? Best thirty seconds of your life?”

“Forty-five.”

That triggers another round of laughter, the four hyungs looking like preschool kids who’ve just heard someone say the word ‘penis’. 

“Ya!” Jeongguk yells at Jimin, scowling even if he can’t quite hide the smile.

Even if they’re having fun at his expense, Jeongguk joins the fun, ignoring the fact he’s as red as a tomato.

“I’ll see you later, ‘kay?” he promises Jimin, holding his hand for a brief second. 

“Okay.”

“Text me if you need anything,” he continues, turning his back to the car for an ounce of privacy. “You remember the door code?”

Jimin nods, trying his best to ignore the teasing whistles. “How else can I loot your place while you’re gone?”

“Just don’t steal my underwear.”

“Nah, that’s gross. I’ll steal your hoodies, though.”

“Okay,” Jeongguk smiles shyly, adjusting the straps of his backpack. “I’m gonna go, then.”

“Okay,” Jimin chuckles, loving how cute and unbelievably awkward this is. 

To their surprise, Namjoon turns off the car, yelling from the driver’s seat. “Yah, Jeon Jeongguk!”

Jeongguk freezes at the stern parent tone, sharing a confused look with Jimin. 

“Don’t just stand there,” Namjoon deadpans, pointing at Jimin as if Jeongguk is too dumb to see him standing right there. “Have you no manners? Kiss your boyfriend goodbye.”

If he didn’t pull a muscle while they were fucking like animals, Jeongguk definitely seized one when he turns to Jimin, looking incredibly vulnerable at the casual mention of B-word. 

He wears his heart on his sleeve, and there’s nothing but hope in his stare.

It’s fast, they know. But fuck norms, they write their own story. Jimin won’t let himself overthink, won’t hold himself back from being emotional, from overflowing with the love he’s kept locked in for so many years. 

He knows it hasn’t been that long, knows they’re doing it all backwards. Knows he hasn’t told Jeongguk his story, either. But he will. 

Later tonight, perhaps. 

He’ll tell him his favourite colour, and how he loves blueberry pancakes. He’ll tell him how terrified he was the night he fled to Seoul after his military service, without anything to call his own but his salary and a small trust fund he got from his grandma. He’ll tell him it was because his parents found out he was gay.

He’ll tell him how lovely it is that he has loving parents, that he can’t wait to meet them. That he wants to see Jeongguk speak French at home, perhaps even start learning a little bit here and there.

He’ll tell him he hasn’t spoken to his parents in five years and that, until now, Taehyung was his only family. That he turned a coping mechanism into a career, and that he’s studying to become a Korean-English translator. He’ll tell him how peculiar it is that the universe has given him a lover who understands the itch scratched by a different language, who’ll let him learn and explore every little nuance that usually gets lost in translation. 

Jimin will tell him everything. Unless Jeongguk wants to find out all on his own.

Either way, what they’ve found in each is special—Jeongguk is special. A loving, extraordinary boy who stumbled into Jimin’s life like a hurricane and swept away the traps he’d set around his heart, his warm eyes and bunny smiles acting like hammer and chisel. 

Jimin would be a complete idiot if he let the opportunity to love pass him by. To love someone like Jeongguk. 

That’s why he meets Jeongguk’s hopeful gaze with his own teary eyes, dropping the snacks so he can pull Jeongguk into a hug. There, in Jeongguk’s arms, he pulls back enough to cup his cheeks, squeezing until Jeongguk’s lips pucker into a very kissable pout. 

“You heard him.”