Chapter Text
Jimin moved through the house silently, as always. Only the soft whisper of the straw broom against the wood floor giving him away. He had years of practice when it came to being silent.
Although his family was well off, and he was the only son he was never afforded the luxuries that came with his station. His father wanted one of each designation; one alpha male, one beta female, and one omega female. Instead, he received two female betas and one male omega.
Jimin’s father was just like every other alpha. He expected his wife to bring up the children and maintain the house while he left and did whatever.
With every movement of the broom Jimin could feel his arms ache, the result of hours of scrubbing the floors. He could feel the ache in his knees from kneeling for so long. But nonetheless, he welcomed the burn because it gave him something to focus on. Something other than dull throb of longing lodged into his chest.
As Jimin moved closer to the end of the hallway he made sure his steps were lighter. His chest ached as he was hardly breathing. His father’s study door was left slightly open and Jimin didn’t want to alert him of his presence.
The sound of his mother’s voice made him pause and angle his head closer to the door. His mother was the perfect wife to his father. She never talked back, questioned him, or raised her voice at him. It was unusual that she would be in his study.
Whilst Jimin’s mother never hit him like his father she was her own brand of cruelty. Omegas thrive off of affection and love. His mother was a beta and never understood his need for closeness, nor did she want to.
Her cruel words and distance often hurt more than his father’s physical cruelty.
His father’s voice drifted out, heavy and overbearing. Subconsciously Jimin’s shoulders hunched inwards, trying to protect himself from a perceived threat.
“The Min boy will be coming for Jimin. He’s an alpha and in high standing. You remember the farm out in the country that belonged to my childhood friend?”
Jimin’s heart skipped a beat as his whole body froze, waiting for his mother’s answer.
“Yes, I had heard it really grew these last couple of decades.”
His mother’s response did nothing to reassure him. She had obviously known about this for a while.
“When Jimin was born I was very disappointed. Our last child, our only son, and yet he was an omega. But when my old friend reached out to me, I knew there was hope. His son was eight at the time and an alpha. He wanted to arrange a marriage contract between them. Nothing will take away the shame of having him for a son, but this was the best that could happen.”
His mother only hummed in response.
The cold and callous way his father spoke sent a shock through Jimin’s system. He was nothing but a baby, still in the cradle and his father was busy selling away his future.
However, the quite acceptance from his mother caused tears to rise to his eyes. He would not fool himself into thinking his mother loved him, but he had hoped that she cared for him a little bit. To think that she had known for years and not told him hurt deeply.
He had thought that his mother would understand a little bit. She had been arranged to marry his father and their marriage was not a loving one.
He had no expectations that his mother would have defended him as a baby but he thought she might have tried to prepare him for marriage.
His father spoke again,
“We could have been rid of him three years ago when the Min boy first reached out, but he wanted to wait for Jimin to be twenty before they married.”
Jimin felt a small bit of relief at the knowledge that the alpha did not want him as a child bride, but he was still overcome with anxiety at the prospect of marrying a stranger.
His mother spoke again,
“It is indeed a shame that he waited so long. He could have two possible heirs by now. Maybe even a third on the way.”
Jimin nearly lost hold of the broom at his mother’s words. They truly only care about his childbearing abilities. Not about what this stranger could do to him.
It was all too much; he had to get away. As he rushed through the house, he realized he had nowhere safe to go.
If he left the house and went outside or heaven forbid off the property his father would surely beat him. He couldn’t go into the kitchen because that would be the first place they would look. Nor could he go to the library, his sisters were surely there doing needlepoint or some other craft.
Instead, he fled to his room. Whilst it had no lock at least he would feel semi safe, even if it was a lie.
……………
With a soft click he closed the door behind him. Jimin leaned forwards and placed his forehead against the wood door, taking a moment to just breathe.
He inhaled, noting the strong smell of the wood door.
He exhaled, shivering slightly from the draft in the room.
With every breath in and out his heartrate slowed until he was no longer on the verge of crying. With a soft sigh Jimin slid down the door until he was sitting against it with his knees brought up to his chest.
His room was nothing much. Just a narrow bed, a cracked and distorted mirror, and a heavy wooden chest against one wall. The room was more the size of a small pantry than a proper bedroom, but it had done Jimin good throughout the years.
The walls were barren, devoid of any decorations. All of his clothes were tucked away into his wooden chest with his meager belongings. With the bed perfectly made there was no evidence that anybody actually used the room regularly.
At least it would be easy to pack, Jimin thought bitterly.
At the idea of having to move somewhere strange, with somebody he has never met, Jimin’s anxiety flared up again.
Panic thudded in his ears as he staggered up onto his bed.
He had always known he would be sold off eventually. Both of his siters had been betrothed to other high standing alphas but that had only happened in the last six months. Their marriages were not going to happen for another year.
Jimin thought that he had another year or two before talks started. He also expected to be trained somewhat in managing a house before being married off. He had no idea how to manage a household and it sounded like his fiancé had lots of land.
As Jimin grew more panicked he thought about what his marriage would be like. Unwanted ideas began to populate his mind. Memories he had fought tooth and nail to keep buried.
Jimin was only five years old, but he was starting to understand what life was going to be like for him.
He watched as his mother tucked his sisters into bed each night but not him; even though his sisters were already seven and nine years old.
He had started to feel cold and numb no matter how many blankets he slept under.
Jimin didn’t understand why his father’s voice always sounded so slurred at night, but he knew it meant it was time to hide.
His father only grew angrier at having to see Jimin and his father’s scent would sour. The small would burn Jimin’s nose causing him to cry which would only cause his father to hurt him more.
Jimin remembered being ridiculed for doing anything that an omega would do.
Jimin was thirteen this time. His cheek red and swollen from where his father had hit him. He was crouched on the floor trying to hold back the sound of his crying.
His father was rampaging through his small room. Tearing apart all of his embroidery he’d tacked to the wall.
As his father left, he slammed the door so hard Jimin’s mirror fell off the wall causing the bottom half to crack and shatter.
Jimin remembered the isolation of his first heat.
Jimin was sixteen this time. Almost seventeen, when his first heat started.
It was excruciating. Jimin had no idea what was happening until after it had ended.
He just remembers being locked in the cellar for the two days it took. It took him half a day before giving into the temptations.
The conversation afterwards was almost worse. His mother had sat him down and explained the basics.
“Your body is now ready for pups. Your heat will come once a year. Until you are married it is the only time you will allow yourself to fall to temptations. I know you are too bad of an omega to stop yourself during your heat. Once you are married your husband can do what he wants. You will not stop him.”
Not waiting for his response, she got up and left.
It left Jimin feeling a wave of shame. He felt disgusting for what he had done and what he would do again in a year.
Mostly he was just scared. Scared of what his hypothetical husband would do or expect from him.
Jimin buried his face into his pillow and tried to calm his breathing. There was nothing he could do about it, so he tried to focus on the positives.
He would be away from his mother and father. He would miss his sisters, but they were never the closest.
Jimin would also get the chance to see more of the world. Sure, it would only be about a day’s ride away of the world but that was still more than what he’s seen to date.
It would probably be much quieter as well since it was in the country. Jimin’s current house was only a ten-minute walk from town which meant there were always carriages going up and down the road.
Learning to live on a farm would be difficult but if Jimin was lucky his husband would be understanding. Plus, Jimin already knew how to cook and clean.
It would probably also be nicer to raise a family in the country than this close to town. Plenty of space for the kids to run around in.
Jimin curled up tighter on his bed, trying to push away the hope that dared to rise beneath the fear.
Jimin had always wanted to raise a family. He had just pushed that desire deep inside him, never willing to give himself hope.
But he thought about it now; a home with his own space, a husband who came home to him each night, maybe even some children.
Jimin wanted it more than he could say.
But not like this.
Jimin tried to ground himself in reality. It would do him no good to create these fantasies only to get his heart broken.
In all likelihood the alpha he was promised too just wants a warm body in his bed, someone to give him heirs, someone to be seen and not heard.
Jimin thought ahead to what his wedding night would be like. From the scraps his mother gave to him after his first heat it would probably be scary. Possibly even hurt.
It scared Jimin horribly, but he knew the likelihood of his husband waiting until he was ready was slim.
……………
Jimin knew he was testing the rules, but he didn’t go down for dinner. It didn’t matter anyways as no one came to get him.
Later, his mother came and knocked on his door, which was unusual, but she entered without waiting for a response. It’s not as if he could tell her to go away.
She came and sat on his bed and for the first time in Jimin’s life she treated him with kindness.
She laid a hand on Jimin’s shoulder, startling him. He couldn’t remember the last time she touched him.
Her face, however, was still pulled into a scowl.
“Tomorrow your future husband will arrive. His name is Min Yoongi. I will not answer questions just know this has been planned since your birth. You being an omega was not what we wanted but we must make do with it. By entering into this marriage is how you will apologize to your father for your status.”
The air between them grew stale. Her hand on Jimin’s shoulder started to grip him tighter.
“Do you have nothing to say.”
Jimin thought about it. He was leaving tomorrow no matter what so he might as well speak his mind.
“Why did you not prepare me for it? I have no idea what is to be expected of me. How do I run a household?”
Jimin paused, taking a deep breath,
“What am I to expect on my wedding night? What about after it?”
His mother sighed and looked away.
“I do not care about how you will run a household. You will no longer be our responsibility.”
Her harsh words brought new tears to Jimin’s eyes, but he was determined to not let them fall.
His mother left a small stack of clothing on his bed and stood up. When she reached the door, she spoke again.
“One wife to a future wife, on your wedding night stay still. Do what he asks and do not expect more. He will likely want to do it every night. If he does not touch you regularly begin to suspect that he is looking outside the home. If you can, take a warm bath the morning after. It will ease the pain.”
With that she left.
It only left him with more questions and complicated feelings. He doesn’t hate his mother, and he’ll likely never accept how she treated him, but he understood a little bit.
This was just how it is.
He decided to go through the clothes she left. It was a plain grey dress. Slightly out of fashion. The buttons went up the front and the sleeves went to the elbow. He would have to tack up the hem because whoever this was made for was taller than him.
The fabric was slightly stiff, and the cuffs were fraying but Jimin loved it all the same. He wasn’t allowed to wear stereotypical omega clothing, but he guessed his family wanted him to look normal tomorrow.
There was also a pair of stockings with no holes.
But the most confusing thing was the underwear. Jimin was used to his plain cotton underwear.
This underwear was silky and soft and had definitely been bleached to be this white. There was also some delicate lace sewn onto it and it definitely didn’t cover as much as his normal stuff would.
Jimin realized he was meant to wear this because his husband would like it. The thought made his cheeks flush and something deep within him stir.
He quickly shoved the underwear back into the pile of clothes.
He turned toward the foot of his bed and knelt before his chest. The wood creaked softly as he lifted the lid, the scent of cedar and old fabric wafting up.
He took a minute to look at the small daisies he had painted on the inside when he was younger.
He would miss them.
Inside were the only things he owned, each tucked away with care that spoke to how rarely he opened it.
He lifted out a square of fabric—a frayed handkerchief embroidered with delicate bluebells, the stitches uneven but full of effort.
He had made it when he was just learning to sew, before his father had punished him for taking to needle and thread like a girl. He smoothed it with his thumb, the fabric soft and worn from being handled in secret.
Next was a rusted sewing needle wrapped in cloth. Bent slightly from use. It had been hidden for years, tucked into the lining of his coat or beneath loose floorboards. He wasn’t sure why he had kept it—maybe because letting it go would have meant giving up another part of himself.
Beneath that was a tiny wooden horse, whittled during a quiet autumn afternoon when he’d hidden behind the barn, carving with a dull knife until the shape resembled something he could be proud of. The paint had long since chipped away, but he remembered how bright the red had once been.
And finally, a small jar filled with dried mint leaves. He had collected them from the garden out back two springs ago, back when things had been quiet for a while, when he had imagined making tea for himself on cold nights.
He touched each item gently before packing them carefully into his satchel, wrapping the handkerchief around the wooden horse to protect it. The mint jar went at the bottom, the needle tucked safely in the side seam. He laid the folded dress and strange underwear on top, smoothing them down with a trembling hand.
Jimin pulled out a small chest and packed away his clothes.
Pausing after a moment he realized he didn’t have to pack the pants. He could choose to only bring his skirts.
It wasn’t much. Just five plain skirts he made in secret from old curtains and blankets.
Along with his five plain shirts he would have plenty of outfits.
Unfortunately, he only had one coat in blue but all of his clothes were neutral so that shouldn’t be a problem.
It was not much. But it was his. Every piece of it was a part of him.
And tomorrow, he’d take it all with him—into a life he didn’t choose, with a man he didn’t know.
He sat there for a long time, staring into the open chest, feeling both the weight of everything he’d endured and the strange lightness of finally leaving it behind. When he finally closed the lid, it was with a soft, decisive thud.
It sounded a little like goodbye.
……………
The evening settled heavily around him. He lay still, hours passing as the house darkened. The fire in the hearth crackled low, and the wind picked up outside, tapping ghostlike fingers against the windowpane. He stared at the ceiling, tracing the familiar cracks above his bed, their patterns etched into his memory like the lines on his palm. He could follow each one with his eyes closed.
It had always been easier not to hope. Hope was dangerous. Hope made his heart lift, only to shatter when disappointment came—swift, sharp, and inevitable.
But now...
Now, there was a name. A destination. A future hovering on the horizon, uncertain and trembling like heat rising off the summer road.
He did not know what kind of man Min Yoongi was. Did not know if he'd be kind or cruel, if his promises were gentle or barbed.
But still, Jimin couldn’t stop the ember of hope from stirring in his chest. It frightened him more than anything.
He rolled onto his side, hand tucked beneath his cheek, and closed his eyes. He didn’t expect to sleep.
He remembered a dream he’d once had, years ago, when he was still small enough to climb into the hayloft and pretend it was his castle.
In the dream, he lived in a cottage nestled against the edge of an orchard. There was warm firelight dancing along the walls, soft blankets tucked around his legs, and a baby gurgling in a cradle beside the bed. A strong hand, gentle on his back. A kiss on his shoulder as he drifted to sleep.
The dream had always ended in tears.
Tears because it felt too real, too close to something he wanted more than anything else. Tears because he’d always wake to cold sheets, to silence, to the harsh voice of his father or the cutting disappointment in his mother’s eyes.
But even now, years later, he remembered every detail of that dream. The way the baby’s fist had curled around his finger. The way the cradle had rocked, steady and soothing, like the rhythm of a lullaby. The soft feeling of lips against his neck as a voice murmured, “You’ve done well, sweetheart.”
It had not even mattered what the alpha looked like in the dream. Sometimes he had no face at all. Sometimes Jimin could not remember his name.
It was not about that. It was about safety. Warmth. Being wanted.
Being loved.
Jimin opened his eyes. Shadows danced along the ceiling. He reached toward them, fingers spread, as if he could catch the remnants of that dream and hold them close.
His chest ached.
He had never known love like that—not once, not even a taste. The only touches he remembered were rough. The only words he’d heard were warnings and accusations. It made the dream feel like a lie.
But deep down, a stubborn, aching part of him clung to it. He wanted that future. A home where he could hum as he worked, where his hands could sew clothes for a child. Where someone would reach for him at night and smile when he leaned close.
He wiped at his eyes. They were damp. He didn’t even remember crying.
The fire had burned down to embers now, casting long, flickering shadows along the floor. Outside, the wind had picked up, moaning through the cracks like a mournful lullaby.
Jimin turned his face into the pillow, pulling the thin blanket up to his shoulders. His body curled into itself, small and still. Tomorrow will come quickly. Morning always did.
And with it, a man he didn’t know. A promise signed in ink long ago. A future he hadn’t chosen—but maybe, just maybe, one he could grow to want.
He closed his eyes again.
He tried to dream.
……………
Jimin huffed and turned over. After his dream earlier he hadn’t been able to sleep again. It would do him no good to greet his fiancé tomorrow with eyebags.
The old house groaned around him, the wind howling against the windows. He lay on his side, watching shadows shift across the ceiling.
He tried to imagine what Min Yoongi looked like.
He worked on a farm, so he had to be strong. He was probably rough.
He’d heard whispers about the Min family occasionally. The owner of the farm supposedly had a quiet temper, didn’t entertain suitors, lived alone with a few farmhands and his animals.
Jimin hadn’t even made the connection between Min Yoongi his future husband and the Min farm owner who people loved to gossip about until a few hours ago.
Why want him?
He closed his eyes, and the same dream from earlier returned: a fire-lit room, a gentle hand brushing his hair back, a baby’s laughter, soft and sweet. He’d woken up crying from that dream more than once.
Now it might never come true. Or worse—it might come true in all the wrong ways.
……………
Jimin woke up feeling unrested. He’d dreamt that old dream twice last night and it left him feeling empty.
With nothing to do but wait he decided to get up.
He dressed before the sky lightened. The silence of the house was broken only by the groan of wood as he moved.
He hesitated to put on the underwear because it seemed immodest, but it was what his mother gave him to wear. Plus, he thinks they look pretty and if was to be married off to a random man today he might as well get to wear something he likes.
Though the idea that anybody will see him in the underclothes makes him a little embarrassed.
The stockings were nice and must have been new because there was no holes and no signs of mending.
Undoubtedly his favorite was the dress. The idea that he could wear it out and in front of people gave him some happiness today.
He brushed his hair in the mirror with fingers instead of a comb, then repacked what little he owned into his satchel. His old handkerchief with the embroidered bluebells, the wooden horse, the mint leaves, his sewing needle. Nothing more.
Then he sat by the window.
The world outside was still half asleep. The fields stretched long and silver with dew, the trees blushing gold as dawn slowly crept in. His hands trembled where they held the satchel on his lap.
Jimin could hear the sounds of his family moving and decided to join them for breakfast.
It would be his last after all.
His mother looked the same except she wouldn’t look him in the eyes.
Jimin’s father’s scent turned sour as he looked up and saw his dress. But Jimin must be lucky today because his father chose to look away.
His sisters looked sad though. They were not the closest but he would miss them.
Maybe they could become closer once they have all moved out and married. He vowed to write them in a few weeks.
Breakfast was a quiet affair. Jimin was just reaching the end of his bowl when his father spoke up.
“When you leave you will be on your own. Conduct yourself properly. If you fail, we will not take you back. Do you understand?”
Jimin could barely breathe.
“Yes sir.”
“Good. Go wait by the window. Tell us when he gets here.”
Jimin did not hesitate to get up and leave.
Jimin did not have to wait for long.
He heard the wagon before he saw it. The creak of wheels, the crunch of gravel beneath hooves. A plume of dust rose as it approached. Then the wagon came into view, and with it—a man.
He looked to be only a little taller than Jimin, which was unusual for an alpha. but he was very broad and looked strong. Which would make sense for someone who worked on a farm every day.
He looked like he had shoulder length dark hair which was tied back beneath a worn straw hat. Sunburnt skin. Calm in his movements, like nothing ever rushed him.
He stepped down and climbed the porch steps with the quiet certainty of someone who belonged anywhere he chose to stand.
Jimin rushed to get his parents.
He knocked once.
Jimin stood frozen, heart in his throat.
Jimin’s father opened the door.
Their eyes met.
Min Yoongi looked at him—not with disdain, not with lust, not even with confusion. Just… with a steady kind of awareness.
As if he’d known exactly who he was looking for and had found him.
Jimin’s breath caught.
Maybe this would not be the end of his story.