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the perks of being an omega

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“There aren’t any,” Jimin grumbles facedown into his textbook.

Taehyung throws a grape at him. It bounces off Jimin’s hair and rolls pathetically back onto the table. He chews at one noisily when he answers, “Sure there are!”

Jimin props his chin on a picture of a monkey’s anatomy to glare at him. “What would you know? Alpha,” he mumbles bitterly.

“For one,” Taehyung says over him loudly, reaching over to pinch Jimin’s cheek. “People think you’re cute!”

“People think you’re cute, too.”

Taehyung stops chewing for a moment. “That’s fair. But irrelevant.” He takes a moment to scent at the air, before leaning forward a little. “Hey, is it your heat week? Is that why you’re all grumpy?”

“I’m having the equivalent of a fever mixed with the worst hangover known to mankind,” Jimin hisses. “I am periodically leaking lubrication from my asshole — ” He ignores Taehyung’s scandalized sound of protest and powers on. “And everywhere I go, I have to be babysat because all the goddamn alphas in this school can’t keep it in their pants! So yes, Kim Taehyung. I am grumpy. I am beyond grumpy. I want to bury myself for the next seven days so that I may lubricate in peace.” When he’s finished, Jimin plants his face back into his textbook. Biochemistry kills most people, right? Perhaps it’ll do him the same favour.

“Well, I mean,” Taehyung says haltingly. He chews at another grape, leaving the sentence hanging in the air precisely in the way Jimin hates the most but Jimin can’t even be bothered to scowl right now.

“If you’re just going to leave that sentence hanging, please anticipate my hands —” Jimin smacks at the table to indicate that he does indeed possess a pair. “— Wringing your neck.”

Well,” Taehyung says, with a petulant edge to his voice. “At least you get a whole week of people doing whatever the hell you want them to.”

Jimin pushes pause on his grief to lift his head. “What are you talking about?”

Taehyung grins lazily, resting his cheek in his palm. He waves his hand casually as he says, “Yeah, y’know. The heat scent. Alphas can’t help but wanna bend over backwards to please you guys whenever it hits. It’s annoying, actually.”

At Jimin’s slow spreading grin, Taehyung abruptly looks horrified. “Wait. You didn’t know that. Wait —

Jimin, now adorning a face-splitting smile, leans forward, just a little maliciously; revels in the bob of Taehyung’s Adam’s apple. “Was that why you ran five blocks to get me egg tarts that week right before I presented?”

Taehyung makes a whimpering sound.

“This is precious,” Jimin gushes, his sufferings forgotten at the revelation. “Oh my god! A whole week. A whole week, and you — and every other alpha — are essentially my slave?”

“I’ve done a terrible thing,” Taehyung whispers, looking down sadly at his half-eaten bundle of grapes.

“You aren’t lying to me, are you?” Jimin asks, wide-eyed and awed. “Kim Taehyung, I’m thirsty. Go get me a Pocari Sweat.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Taehyung whines, throwing another grape that Jimin deftly dodges.

“Then how does it work?” he demands.

“Like… like.” Taehyung gestures vaguely with both hands.

Jimin frowns. “Oh, come on, Taetae. I’m not lying — I am thirsty. I haven’t had anything to drink since homeroom.”

He hadn’t thought it would work. At least vaguely, he’d hoped it would. But when Taehyung visibly twitches like he’s fighting to stay seated, a laugh bubbles up inside him. “Oh my god. You really want to do it.”

“You’re evil, Park Jiminnie,” Taehyung hisses with venom. But the expression crumples in seconds and he bemoans, “Evil that smells like sugar and spice and everything nice,” as he bolts out of his seat, practically jogging to the nearest vending machine.

Jimin hasn’t smiled this hard in his entire life. He’d been down about presenting as an omega for the past month now, even though it hadn’t exactly come as a surprise, but this – this just about makes up for every con that comes with being one.

And this happens once a month.

Blessed be the king, Jimin thinks gleefully as Taehyung slumps back into his seat, the energy drink clutched tight in one hand like he’s scared someone might come and snatch it from him.

“It doesn’t even feel right to glare at you,” Taehyung mumbles, gazing at the bottle mournfully. He cracks the seal before handing it over. Jimin takes a big drink of it, smacking his lips for show.

“Thank you, my loyal siege,” he declares. When he looks at the bottle, it’s with a lot more mirth than sadness.

“What have I done,” is all Taehyung can manage out.

Jimin sets the bottle down like it’s a trophy. He sighs with great pleasure. “This is so great. For the next seven days, I finally have someone to massage my legs when they’re sore and feed me when I’m too lazy to lift my hands.”

Taehyung’s voice is muffled by his palms. “I already do that.”

“Oh, right.” Jimin frowns. It’s suddenly a lot less fun to think about. “That’s boring. I should test this out on someone more… unwilling.” He brightens. “I know! Yoongi-hyung — ”

Taehyung lifts his face out of his hands to roll his eyes. “Yoongi-hyung already does everything you ask. You won’t even notice the difference now that he has to.”

Jimin furrows his brows. He sure as hell doesn’t feel the soft spot the older alpha apparently holds for him, but he’ll take Taehyung’s word for it.

“Then who?” he wonders. When Taehyung meets his eyes across the table, and it’s obvious he already knows — they both do. This time, a square-shaped shit-eating grin breaks across Taehyung’s face as he bursts into cackles.

“Someone who never listens to anything you say, and thinks of himself above everyone else,” Taehyung manages out through the snickering. Jimin is giggling into his own hands. It’s all so terrible and perfect. “Someone who always makes you do shit for him.

Jimin wipes at the tears of mirth budding in his eyes as he stands up, slamming his textbook shut with finality. “I wonder what Jungkookie is doing. I guess I should go find him, huh?”

“Engarde, Jiminnie.” Taehyung gives him a two-fingered salute. “This is the revenge you’ve always been waiting for!”

Jimin salutes back. “This is going to be the best seven days of my life.”



In hindsight, it probably would’ve been a better idea to ask Taehyung to tag along. Because as whiny and childish as Taehyung can get sometimes, he’s still an alpha and having him near has always made Jimin feel a lot safer.

That, and, it gets a lot of other alphas off his tail. Jimin has walked himself into the metaphorical jaws of the lion and it'd probably been a little risky to come alone. Regardless, he bravely pokes his head into the gym where Jungkook usually spends fourth period with the rest of the basketball team in hopes of finding him.

Several heads turn as the alphas pause from where they’re doing warm ups, catching his scent. Jimin waves timidly as he enters, but lets his hand fall in confusion when Jungkook is nowhere to be seen.

Yoongi catches his gaze from across the court and a matching frown tilts his lips. He calls for a five minute break and ambles over, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.

“What’re you doing here, Park Jimin?” he says, leaning in to touch their foreheads together briefly in greeting. It's standard pack protocol, but a hello Jimin, how are you doing, would be nice to hear on occasion.

“Good to see you too,” Jimin mumbles, kicking at the ground. The scent of alpha pheromones permeating the gym amplified by Yoongi’s proximity makes his knees a little weak. It’s all still so new — this whole being-an-omega thing. Jimin doesn’t know how he’ll ever get used to how overwhelming it can get having an alpha near him, even one he’s known as long as Yoongi. Jimin settles himself down on a bench, Yoongi trailing close behind.

Yoongi grabs a towel from the stack to drape across his neck as he settles down with a huff next to Jimin. “That for me?”

Jimin glances down to the bottle he’d forgotten was still held in his grasp. He clutches it to his chest protectively. “No way, get your own.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, clearly having expected an answer of that sort. “So why're you here?”

When Jimin fidgets instead of answering, his eyes narrow. Then, without warning, he leans forward, dips his head to scent Jimin’s throat. He squeaks and very nearly falls backwards — Yoongi is forceful by nature; has never bothered to hold back around Jimin, even after Jimin had presented, and Jimin doesn’t understand why everyone always tells him Yoongi’s soft on him. “Your heat’s coming soon,” he says bluntly, drawing back.

Jimin sputters, cheeks pinking. “I am aware!” Soft as a fucking cactus, maybe, he thinks sullenly.

Yoongi glances over Jimin’s shoulder before levelling him a flat stare. “Where’s Taehyung?”

“Eating,” Jimin mutters. “Anyway,” he tacks on hastily before Yoongi can start berating him for coming. “Where’s Jungkookie?”

“Talking to the coach. He’ll be back in a bit.”

“Can I wait here for him?”

Yoongi scoffs out a laugh. “Like I could stop you.”

He could, but he wouldn’t. Maybe he is a little soft for Jimin. Jimin preens a little at the thought.

“What’s with that ugly expression?” Yoongi comments and Jimin scowls. Okay, maybe not that soft. “Do I even want to know what you’re thinking about?”

“I’m daydreaming about you getting hit in the face with the ball.” Jimin pretends to shoot a basket with his arms. “Bam, three-pointer.”

“Punk,” Yoongi growls, but his lips are twitching like he’s fighting off a laugh. “You’re a distraction, you know that Park Jimin? I should make you leave.”

“Hyung,” Jimin cajoles, drawing out the vowel and clutching Yoongi’s arm. Jimin blinks when Yoongi uncharacteristically becomes taut as a bowstring, but pretends not to notice. “I’ll be quiet.” He mimes zipping his lips. “You won’t even notice I’m here.”

“That’s not the problem,” Yoongi says after a terse moment, gently extricating himself from Jimin’s hold and getting to his feet. But Jimin knows it’s a victory even before Yoongi barks out, “Do not move from this spot, got it? I’m gonna get Jungkook.”

Jimin nods eagerly.

“I mean it. Not even a finger.”

Jimin places them on his lap and beams.



“… What part of ‘do not move from this spot’ did you not understand?”

Jimin guiltily scrambles to his feet from where he'd been perched on Yugyeom's back— one of Jungkook’s close friends, so veritably deemed safe in Jimin’s books — as he counted through pushups. He knows what it looks like, and he can’t even form an excuse because it’s exactly what it looks like.

Yoongi stares at him, eyes flickering amber with annoyance as he takes in the sight of the whole team having what appears to be a spontaneous pushup competition. Jungkook is next to him — he’s here and just his familiar scent is enough to make Jimin’s stomach flutter; his lips pull into an involuntary smile.

Deciding to ignore Yoongi's growing ire, Jimin bounds up to the younger alpha, and even the unreadable look on Jungkook’s face, tongue jabbing against the inside of his cheek, isn’t enough to tamper Jimin’s delight. “Jungkookie!” he chirps.

Jungkook stares at him for several seconds before his gaze flits away. Jimin wilts a little at the dismissal. Maybe Taehyung had been wrong and not even his pre-heat scent would be enough to break Jungkook’s iron will and steel countenance, who is currently shooting daggers with his eyes at something over Jimin's head, instead of staring fondly at Jimin, who apparently smells very nice and should, theoretically, be very difficult to ignore. “What’s going on here?”

Before Jimin can answer, Yugyeom gets to his feet, dusting off his palms. “Just a little... friendly competition. Jimin-sunbae offered to help,” he adds slyly.

Jimin breaks into a smile, oblivious. Yugyeom is eager and sweet like an oversized puppy — a lot like Jungkook in some ways. “Sorry I lost count, Yugyeom-ah.”

“S’okay. I know at least I did like twenty more than Mingyu. He’s all bark and no bite.” At the sound of a low growl that has Jimin jumping a little in his skin, Yugyeom makes his escape, cackling as the tall alpha in question lunges after him playfully and gives a chase.

“Play nice,” Yoongi says following after them, not sounding like he means it. He gives Jimin one last long look over his shoulder, a withering look that promises reprimand, and Jimin winces.

Jungkook glares after them before Jimin tugs at his arm to catch his attention. He glances down, eyes dark enough that Jimin’s words dry up on his tongue. He doesn’t understand why Jungkook seems angry — does he not want to see Jimin?

But whatever expression he’s donning, it seems to do the trick, because the tension drains from Jungkook’s shoulders. Jimin is still pouting when Jungkook finally deigns to acknowledge his presence, ducking down to touch their foreheads together, Jimin leaning up to meet him halfway. When they move apart, Jungkook clears his throat and asks all gruffly, “You okay?” and — it’s cute; reminiscent of the same Jungkook Jimin had watched grow up, a shy beta boy — childish and naïve at heart, and awkwardly gentle in his caring. It’s enough to make Jimin instantly forgive the cold treatment.

Finally registering the question, Jimin blinks and tilts his head. “I’m fine. Why?”

“My team — ” Jungkook glares off into the distance again before catching himself with a puzzled frown. “They can get… rough.”

“I can handle rough,” Jimin says with a fond roll of his eyes. “I deal with you and Taehyung everyday, don’t I?”

“It’s not the same,” Jungkook mutters obstinately. “What’re you doing here anyway?”

Jimin bristles at the tone. “Can’t I be here? Don’t take after Yoongi-hyung too much, it’s not cute.”

“I’m not trying to be cute. Did you need something?”

“Can I only look for you when I need something?” Jimin snaps, feeling a spike of irritation at Jungkook’s attitude.

“No, that’s not — Jimin… hyung,” Jungkook sighs, running a hand through his hair. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Well, I came here to ask if you wanted to eat lunch together. And to give you this.” Jimin shoves his drink into Jungkook’s hands, who fumbles to get his grip. “And I guess I’ll go now, since neither you or Yoongi-hyung seem to want an omega around.” Then he spins on his heel, intent on storming off.

“No, wait — shit, Jimin — ” Jungkook hurries to snag him by the wrist but pauses, staring down at their limbs like he hadn’t thought out what to do after that. It's endearing, like everything else he does happens to be, and Jimin can't help but deflate at the contact. “I — we’re — me and Yoongi-hyung are just worried about you.”

Jimin turns around with a pout. “Well, quit worrying about me. I’m fine.” The alphas had been more than receptive to Jimin’s requests, dropping down into pushups at his mere whim, eager to please. Taehyung hadn’t been lying about that much, at least, nor had he been exaggerating. Jimin wonders with frustration why only Jungkook seems entirely unaffected — no more receptive than usual — when even Yoongi had bent to his whim.

Frustration has Jungkook’s expression darkening — his grip on Jimin's arm tightening.

Before Jimin can even voice out his concern, Jungkook reels him closer until they’re chest to chest, close enough to feel their hearts beating in tandem. He brings them nose to nose, gazing down at Jimin intently. And then Jimin’s heart stops altogether, as Jungkook tilts his head further down; skims his nose down the column of Jimin’s throat, lips ghosting breaths across Jimin’s collar, hot and heavy, mirroring Yoongi’s earlier actions yet entirely different. He scents him, and Jimin squeezes his eyes shut, lets him in.

After what feels like an eternity, Jungkook draws back. Jimin wonders if the flicker of red in Jungkook’s irises is just his imagination.

“You smell different,” he intones, voice low.

Jimin lets out a shaky breath. “Well, Y-Yoongi-hyung — ”

Jungkook shakes his head before tilting it to the side in consideration. “That’s not it. You smell like…” Jimin squirms under the weight of his gaze; inscrutable and loaded; it makes him feel small and vulnerable. “Are you wearing perfume?”

Jimin freezes, eyes widening incredulously. If this were a TV show, the moment would probably be accompanied by a record scratch. There’s no way Jungkook could be this clueless — right? “Um, no…?”

“Huh. That’s weird.” Jungkook lets him go and Jimin takes a step back uneasily, because — holy shit. Jungkook really has no idea. Jimin can hear Taehyung’s gleeful cackles at the back of his mind, layered over a running monologue of how he could use this to his advantage. Jungkook isn’t entirely unaffected — with this, he’s proven at least that much. “I could’ve sworn…”

“What?” Jimin prompts, looking up through his lashes in what he hopes is a flattering way. He probably just looks deranged, if the way Jungkook squints at him is anything to go by.

The alpha seems to shake himself out of it. “Never mind. C'mon. You said you wanted to grab lunch, right?” Jimin huffs and gives up on trying to break Jungkook with a smouldering gaze and lets Jungkook tug him out of the gym. If anything, this will be the perfect chance to get Jungkook to buy him a meal. “Jin-hyung keeps talking about this new ramen shop that opened nearby and I wanna try it out.”

Jimin struggles to match his long strides. "Don't you have practise?"

Jungkook’s steps falter, then start up again more aggressively. “Yugyeom just gave me a free pass out,” he mutters darkly.

“Huh. He did?”

“… Let’s just go before the period’s over.”



“What a cute couple,” the old ramen shop owner comments as she sets their ramen on the table.

“Oh no, we’re not together,” Jimin corrects, before Jungkook can even get a word in. Then, to lighten the statement, he adds jokingly, “This is my kid.”

The woman chuckles with humour. Jimin studiously ignores Jungkook’s glare. “My apologies for assuming then. I still have trouble breaking that old habit.”

As soon as she turns her back, Jungkook leans forward to hiss, “Kid?” with all the indignation of one.

“Aren’t you?” Jimin just retorts, digging into his noodles.

Apparently it had been the wrong thing to say, because for some reason, it makes Jungkook sulk the rest of their time there. He eats slower than usual, which is concerning, because first of all, Jungkook’s got the appetite of a healthy young alpha — in other words, endless. Secondly, the ramen is really fucking good. Not to mention, he only responds to Jimin with monosyllabic grunts, which is less concerning, as Jungkook is a healthy, hormonal young alpha, than it is extremely annoying.

Jimin decides to pay for the both of them in an attempt to appease him. The pack makes jokes about Jungkook being Jimin’s baby all the time, with the way he spoils him, but they'd never seemed to bother him much. Jimin can’t imagine why it would start to now.

It doesn't seem to work, as Jungkook is still sulking and grumpy by the time they're ready to leave. Exasperated, Jimin means to question him, but loses his chance when the old woman pulls Jungkook aside to speak to him. Jimin awkwardly hangs by the entrance, pretending to check his phone for messages. There's a lot of them, most of them from Yoongi, and his most recent message contains more angry emojis than Jimin cares to find, so he leaves them unread. When he glances up, he catches them glancing over at him more than once as she talks, hushed whispers all Jimin can make out, and he pockets his phone, feeling a rush of empathy. Suddenly, the way the woman smells of unmated alpha, eyes worn and sad, makes a lot more sense.

He’ll have to come back here more often — Taehyung would like her.

When they bid her farewell and leave, the way Jungkook walks a little closer to Jimin, somber and deep in thought, is telling in and of itself.

“What did she tell you back there? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Jimin asks, even though he’s got an idea.

Jungkook quickly schools his expression. “Don’t worry about it.”

Jimin frowns. It’s unlike Jungkook to hide things from him — especially something as trivial as a ramen shop owner telling him to look out for omegas. It's nothing Jungkook's mother wouldn't have told him. 

But he’s quickly jolted out of his musings when Jungkook bumps him with his hip, sending him stumbling. “You were worrying,” Jungkook says by way of explanation.

“Was not,” he denies, rubbing at his side. Then, glaring half-heartedly: “Are your hips made out of steel or something? That hurt.”

“Super alpha bones,” Jungkook responds with a straight face.

Jimin hip-checks him in retaliation. He’s infuriated when he’s the one who ends up stumbling again.

They end up walking in loaded silence for a while, as Jungkook's earlier mood seems to have been replaced with some perturbingly deep brooding. None of Jimin's attempts at catching his attention with stray elbows or rocks kicked in his path seem to have any effect. It's only broken when Jungkook subtly herds Jimin to the inside of the sidewalk, all the while staring resolutely ahead, and Jimin utters, "Seriously," feeling as if the breath had been choked out of him, eyes wide with incredulity. "What did she say to you?" 

Jungkook's jaw is set in that stubborn way of his. "... You have calc next period, right?" he asks, instead of answering.

"Jeon Jungkook — "

"Hurry up. I'll walk you." 

"... What? I don't need you to — Jungkook! Don't ignore me — "



"Well, I've arrived safely from a perilous journey through two whole blocks. Thank you, oh honourable knight of mine," Jimin announces dryly in his best commentator voice. Jungkook had somehow managed to thwart all of Jimin's probing questions along the way, attempting to distract him by talking about the upcoming game, leaving no room for any mention of Feelings. It had been only mildly successful, as Jimin only cares so much about sports, even if these sports are Jungkook related. Curiosity and worry still eats away at him, especially when, instead of sauntering off in typical Jungkook fashion, the alpha folds his arms across his chest, as if waiting for Jimin to enter the classroom — "... Okay, seriously?" 

"I'm going to be late," Jungkook tells him, like that would somehow be Jimin's fault.

"What the hell did she say to you?" Jimin demands, aghast.

Jungkook, the clever bastard, arches a brow imperiously and dodges the question with yet another one. "Don't you have a quiz today, hyung?"

Shit. Momentarily defeated, Jimin hurries inside, casting only a brief look over his shoulder as he goes. He means to tell Jungkook that this isn't by any means over, and also to maybe get lost already, in much kinder wording of course, but he hadn't lingered, already disappearing down the hall in a brisk jog. Somehow, this is just as confusing as the rest of Jungkook's behaviour.

Jimin sits down heavily in his seat next to Taehyung, so lost in thought that it's only when the blonde leans over and widens his eyes meaningfully in greeting that Jimin is overcome with a great wave of shame as he remembers. His purpose. His goal. His revenge. “Oh my god.”

“What? Did it not work on him? I wouldn’t be surprised, Jungkook is some sort of supernatural creature from another planet or something, like Superman — What? Why do you look like that? What happened?”

Jimin puts his head his hands. With Jungkook's weird behaviour, Jimin hadn't even thought about — well, anything else. The mission had been an utter failure. “I bought him food. Again.”

At this, Taehyung just throws his head back and laughs.