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i guess i want too much

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Jimin looks good tonight.

He knows it, too, feels the way gazes linger on him as he slinks through the dance floor. He feels them hot on his skin when he stops at the bar, and he loves it, arches his neck and runs a hand through his hair. He's milking it a little too much, judging by the way Taehyung nudges him with a raised brow. Though Taehyung has no room to talk.

"Big boy to the left's checking you out," Taehyung says. He presses his mouth against Jimin's ear to bypass the pounding music.

Jimin shoots a subtle glance over. The guy’s being obvious about it, eyes fixed on Jimin with a determined air. He's hot, sure, but nothing about him stands out. Jimin turns his attention back to the drink the bartender slides over, crinkling his nose. He keeps him on the back of his mind, though, in case he can't find anyone else for the night.

"Nope," he tells Taehyung, who scoffs.

"All right, picky." Taehyung pats Jimin's ass before slipping back toward the dance floor.

Jimin swirls his drink around in his glass for a second before he throws it back. The burn doesn't bother him anymore, and he finishes it in one gulp, setting it on the counter with a slam. When he looks around again, scanning the crowd, he sees someone watching him. The guy leaning against the wall looks impressed. When Jimin catches his gaze, he raises his glass in a gesture of admiration.

Though Jimin comes to this club often enough to recognize the regulars, there are always new faces to keep him interested. Still, he knows the type of crowd that frequents a club with an entry charge this high. This guy doesn't look like the type. In fact, he looks a little uncomfortable, standing there all alone.

Jimin turns back to the bar, tilting his head as he considers. Then he glances back, and the stranger's looking at something else now. He looks good, Jimin can't deny that. His dark hair falls away from his forehead, and he's tucked his loose black shirt into tight jeans. The buttons are undone around his collarbones. He's pushed his sleeves up to show off the tats on his arms. As Jimin watches, the stranger downs the last of his drink and sets it aside. With decided force, Jimin pushes off the counter and weaves through the crowd toward him.

He tilts his head, eyes lidded, when the stranger looks up at him. Holds his gaze until he's in front of him.

"Can I buy you a drink?" Jimin offers, purposely doesn't raise his voice.

The stranger leans forward, brows furrowed, and Jimin takes the opportunity. He presses against him, feels the hard line of his chest against his. "Can I buy you a drink?" Jimin repeats, mouth against the shell of his ear.

The guy's hands come to rest on Jimin's hips on instinct, a light touch. He could take advantage of the bare skin exposed by Jimin's crop top, but he doesn't. His hands rest over the waist of Jimin's leather pants only. Jimin can't help but notice that they're big hands, veiny and broad.

"I think I should be offering you a drink," he says, pulling back a little to look at him. His slender eyes seem amused. "You downed that last one pretty quick."

Jimin laughs, resting a hand on his chest. He peers at him through his lashes and asks, “What’s your name?”

He stares at him for a few seconds before answering. Something about the amusement in his gaze makes Jimin’s skin prickle. He wants to pout, demand that he take him seriously. “Yoongi,” he finally says. “What's yours, sweetheart?"

Jimin's breath catches at the nickname. He toys with the collar of Yoongi's shirt, notices the edges of a tattoo peeking out underneath. Wonders if he'll get to see it tonight. "Jimin. But you can call me whatever you want," he says sweetly. Yoongi raises an eyebrow. "So do I call you hyung, or - "

"Hyung," he agrees, then, mockingly, "but you can call me whatever you want."

Jimin frowns, tapping his lip with his finger and pretending to think. "How about... daddy?"

Yoongi blinks, taken aback.

"Too forward?" Jimin says, tone playful yet serious.

Yoongi schools his face free of surprise to answer, "Mm, we can make that work."

"Good," Jimin breathes, because Yoongi's hot as fuck and Jimin will die of regret if he lets him slip out of his grasp so soon. He winds his arms around Yoongi's neck, leaning into him. "Did you come here all alone?" he teases. "You looked bored."

Yoongi snorts. "You gonna tell me it's a good thing you came along, huh?"

Jimin pouts. Yoongi's warm against him, his body lean and hard, and Jimin wants to get on with it already. "I'm not that cheesy."

" You can call me whatever you want ?"

Jimin swats at him, laughing. He likes it when they have a bit of bite. "Hey, that one's good. It always works."

“Oh, yeah?”

“It worked on you, didn’t it?”

Yoongi’s eyebrow quirks. “Who said it worked?”

Jimin’s lips dip into a frown. He leans in a little, gaze dropping down to Yoongi’s mouth and back to his eyes. “I can try something else.”

Yoongi lifts a hand to take Jimin’s chin between his fingers, the touch delicate. Jimin stares at him, eyes lidded, as Yoongi presses his thumb against Jimin’s plush lower lip. He doesn’t go any further, so Jimin does it for him. He parts his lips, flicks his tongue against Yoongi’s thumb before he closes his lips around it, suckling on the tip. He watches Yoongi’s eyes darken, his Adam’s apple bob when he swallows.

“Fuck,” he says, and Jimin’s pleased to hear his voice tremble.

Yoongi pulls his hand away and replaces it with his mouth. He kisses Jimin in a way that’s nothing but wet and desperate, his hands finally sliding over Jimin’s bare sides. They’re rough against Jimin’s skin, big on his waist, and Jimin presses in a little closer. He threads his fingers through Yoongi’s hair and arches against him, gasping when Yoongi’s tongue flicks the roof of his mouth.

Yoongi pulls away first, his mouth latching onto Jimin’s throat. He sucks, hard, tugging Jimin’s head back by the hair, forcing him to bare his neck. Jimin moans, eyes flying open as he clutches Yoongi. He watches glowing lights play on the nightclub’s ceiling while Yoongi litters kisses down to the base of his throat, sucking lightly. Jimin lets his eyes flutter shut again, lets the sensations overwhelm him.

Yoongi finds his mouth again, pulls quick, teasing kisses from him before his leg slides between Jimin’s. Jimin takes the opportunity, works his hips down, grinding against Yoongi’s thigh.

“Shit,” Yoongi breathes against Jimin’s mouth, and Jimin pulls back enough to look at him.

He licks his lips, knows they must be swollen and slick, and rests his hands over Yoongi’s. Helps him slide them down to his hips so he can feel the way they move as Jimin rolls against him. Jimin lets him go, his own hands returning to play with the hair at Yoongi’s nape. He holds his gaze, lips parted, and works his hips hard enough to have the pleasure melt into his expression.

“You gonna fuck me tonight, daddy?” Jimin asks, breathless.

Yoongi can’t take his eyes off him. They’re blown with pleasure, flickering between Jimin's face and hips like he can’t decide which one he likes more. Jimin lives for it. He loves the attention, loves knowing he has a stranger wrapped around his finger just like that. “Yeah, baby,” he breathes. “Yeah, I’ll fuck you.”

Yoongi’s hands slide down to cup his ass through his tight leather pants, his grip rough as he helps him move faster. Jimin whimpers at the sudden pressure, throwing his head back so Yoongi’s lips can find his neck again.

“You better - ” Jimin gasps a little, Yoongi’s hands hard and insistent. “You better take me home before I come right here.”

“Maybe I’d like to see that,” Yoongi says, mouth against his ear. “Maybe I wanna see you make a mess of yourself in front of everyone like a little slut.”

He moans, hips stuttering, and bites his lip. He picked a good one. “Take me home,” he whines. “Wanna ride your cock.”

That’s enough for Yoongi because he pulls his leg away and kisses Jimin one last time before taking his hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

Jimin follows along, can’t keep the pleased smile from his face. He spots Taehyung on the way out, grinding on some guy, and winks before waving goodbye. Taehyung responds with a lewd gesture, then returns to rubbing his ass on his boy for the night.



Yoongi’s a good fuck.

He’s so good Jimin spends most of the night congratulating himself for picking him out. When they stumble into his apartment, Yoongi spreads Jimin on his couch first and eats his ass long enough that Jimin comes twice, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the rough fabric each time.

Then Yoongi takes him to his bed and fucks him from behind, holding him up by the hair, drawing it out until Jimin’s sobbing for release. He knows exactly what to do to rile Jimin up, growls words in his ear that have his toes curling, edges him just the way Jimin likes.

Jimin’s a little disappointed that Yoongi wears a condom. He likes the feeling of cum in his ass, wishes Yoongi would have licked it out when they finished. Still, he’s too good for Jimin to really complain. Jimin comes first, fucked into overstimulation until he’s twitching bonelessly against the mattress when Yoongi finally shudders against him.

He’s good to him after, too. Makes up for all the nasty things he said to him by telling him how good he was, how pretty, running a gentle hand through his hair. He cleans him up carefully and thoroughly. Jimin milks it, flopping around on his bed and whining when Yoongi’s touch gets a little too firm. He’s sweet enough to call him a taxi when Jimin’s ready to go, even walks him out and bids him goodnight.

They don’t exchange numbers, and there’s no mention made of seeing each other again. Jimin’s okay with that.

Yoongi was a good fuck, but Jimin can probably find another one.


The incessant buzz of Jimin’s phone goes on long enough that it tugs Jimin from sleep. The world comes into hazy focus as he lies there listening to it rattle against his side table. He groans, tossing an arm over his eyes before giving in and stretching until his bones crack. Then he rolls over and snatches it up, pressing it to his ear.

“What?” he grumbles, voice rough from sleep.

“You have an appointment to drop your car at the shop in two hours.” It’s Secretary Kim, his mother’s assistant, to-the-point as always. His voice is loud and painful to Jimin’s heavy head.

“I thought you were taking it for me,” Jimin whines, rubbing gunk out of his eyes. It’s 1 pm; he could have gone another two hours sleeping.

“Your mother says I’m not allowed to do anything for you until otherwise stated. It’s on you now.”

“What?” Jimin exclaims, and it’s enough to shoot upright. The sudden movement makes him dizzy. He’s too hungover for this. “What do you mean you can’t do anything for me - ”

“Take it up with your mother, Jimin,” he sighs, long-suffering. “Two hours, or your car’s not getting fixed. I’ll text you the address.”

He hangs up before Jimin can even start whining again. He stares at his phone with his lip curled before flopping back into his covers and kicking his feet in frustration. He considers standing up the appointment, but he really, really needs his car fixed. Jimin can’t live without his car.

He wonders what his mother’s mad at him for this time, but he can’t think of anything recent enough to warrant her wrath. Until the last possible second, Jimin flops around feeling sorry for himself before finally shuffling to the bathroom.

The auto shop is a drive, especially in Seoul’s afternoon traffic. By the time he gets there, he’s even more annoyed, parking haphazardly. He unwraps a lollipop to keep himself entertained as he heads inside. There’s no one waiting inside, thankfully, or he might have left in a fit of annoyance. But there’s no one at the counter, either, and Jimin resorts to leaning against it and flipping through the brochures and business cards displayed.

“Hey, can I help - oh.”

Jimin glances up, and his mouth pops open around his lollipop.

It’s Yoongi.

He’s dressed in a pair of overalls with a name tag that reads Min Yoongi , cap pulled low over his face. He looks just as surprised to see Jimin standing there. He stares at him for a moment before coming to stand behind the counter.

“You’re my 3 o’clock,” he realizes, voice as gruff and dry as Jimin remembers.

“You work here?” Jimin squeaks.

His eyes narrow. “Yeah.”

Please fix my baby,” Jimin begs, clasping his hands before him.

Yoongi relaxes, scoffing a bit. “Come on, let’s look at her.”

Jimin leads him out, stopping by his baby blue Mustang. Yoongi takes a moment to look unimpressed with Jimin’s parking job before turning on him with a raised eyebrow.

“This is your car?”

“That’s my baby,” Jimin says, stroking her trunk.

Yoongi’s lip curls, but he doesn’t say anything else. He crouches by the back tire, patting it with a firm hand. “Well, first of all, your tires need air.”

“They do?” Jimin tilts his head, peering at the tire even though he doesn’t see what Yoongi’s seeing.

Yoongi sighs. “So what’s the problem? We’ve got something about engine trouble in our notes for the phone call?”

“The engine light’s coming on.” Jimin leans against the side of his car, sucking on his lollipop. He wonders if he should make a show of it. Something about the hat has Yoongi looking even sexier than the last time they met. “I dunno why.”

“All right,” Yoongi stands, turning to face Jimin. “If you wanna wait, I can give you a prognosis in about an hour. But depending on the issue, you might need to leave her here for a few days anyway. So I can call you instead and let you know what’s wrong with her later tonight if that’s easier.”

“You can call,” Jimin decides. Yoongi steps in toward him, stopping with their feet touching, and holds his hand out. Jimin stares at it for a second (thinks a little about how his fingers had felt inside him, too) before he realizes. “Oh!” He tugs his keys out of his back pocket and drops them in Yoongi’s hand.

“You’re free to go,” Yoongi says when Jimin doesn’t move. “You got someone to pick you up?”

“I can make a call.” Jimin rolls the candy between his lips. “But it might take a little while.”

Yoongi stares at him, eyes still unreadable. His hat casts a shadow on his face, somehow brings out the sharp line of his jaw and cheekbones. “There are chairs inside.”

“I’ll get bored,” Jimin whines. He makes a show of glancing around. “You don’t look too busy.”

“And?” Yoongi says dryly.

“I had a lot of fun last time.” Jimin suckles on the lollipop, puffing his slick lips out. Yoongi’s gaze finally dips to his mouth.

“Jimin-ssi,” he starts, as if he's ready to deny him, but Jimin can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s already convinced.

Jimin ends up sucking him off in the tiny bathroom of the auto shop. He’d regretted that he’d never gotten around to sucking his cock last time; if there’s one thing Jimin loves the most, it’s sucking cock. He makes up for it, even swallows, enjoying the dazed look on Yoongi’s face when he pulls away and sticks his lollipop back in his mouth. Yoongi’s still standing there, leaning his head against the wall, when Jimin fixes his hair and leaves with a cheerful wave.

This time, he doesn’t bother getting his number only because he knows exactly where to find him.


Jimin’s mother spends the first two minutes after he enters her office examining him head-to-toe.

His outfit isn’t even that bad today, considering he’d known he had to come see her. His jeans are a little too shredded, but his oversized sweater makes him look cute and sweet, which is usually what she prefers. He’d even thrown on a pair of glasses (sans lenses), but even so she’s looking at him like she can’t believe he would dare set foot in front of her.

“Where did you get those boots?” she finally says. “Are those Balenciaga?”

Jimin glances at his shoes, lifting a foot while he thinks about it. “Yeah,” he finally says.

“Jimin, you know we don’t wear Balenciaga.”

Jimin sighs, plopping down in the armchair across from her desk since she hadn’t bothered to offer him a seat. Her disapproval doesn’t even bother him anymore. When he was younger, he’d started acting out because he thought it’d make her pay attention to him. Dressed like a slut, spent his nights at clubs and made sure people saw him coming out. By the time he’d made peace with the fact that he’d never have her attention, he’d realized he loved the lifestyle he’d cultivated. Now he does it for himself.

“So,” she says. “What did you want to see me for? I have a meeting in ten minutes, so make it quick.”

“I wanna know why Seokjin hyung isn’t allowed to do anything for me anymore.”

Her eyes narrow. “I’ve asked you more than once to take an interest in the company, and you have yet to prove that you care. If you don’t want anything to do with the company, you won’t have anything to do with its employees, either.”

“Eomma,” Jimin whines, kicking his feet. “That’s not fair. How am I supposed to get anything done?”

“Figure it out,” she sniffs, turning back to her computer, hair bobbing with her. “Maybe Secretary Kim will finally be able to get more work done, now that he isn’t running around after your every whim.”

“I don’t make him do that much.”

“If that’s all, you can leave now.”

Jimin huffs and stands, knowing a lost cause when he sees one. He might not be childish enough to slam the door on his way out, but he at least doesn’t bother to close it with care. Instead of heading for the elevator, he makes a beeline toward the office three doors down. The door’s open, but he still knocks, putting on a winning smile when Seokjin looks up.

Seokjin’s expression immediately melts into one of annoyance. He’s at his desk, a mountain of paperwork before him. “I’m not going behind your mother’s back, Jimin.”

Jimin pouts, sidling inside, “But hyung .”

“But hyung nothing. Did you take your car to the shop or did you stand those poor people up?”

“I didn’t stand them up,” Jimin says, offended. He crosses his arms over his chest. “I dropped my car off and I’m even going to pick it up on Monday.”

“Good job, Jimin-ah.” He sounds like he’s praising a small child. Jimin huffs.

“Can’t I ask for your help sometimes? Every now and then? Once a week?”

“Nope.” Seokjin pops the ‘p’ and turns his attention back to the paperwork. “Shut the door on your way out.”

“You’re so mean,” Jimin mutters, leaving it open when he marches out.

There’s no way Jimin would ever give in to his mother’s demands, so he guesses that’s that. He’s on his own now.


When Jimin’s doorbell rings, he isn’t expecting anyone to be on the other end. He doesn’t bother glancing at the camera to see who’s there. He’s ordered a package, and the packages always get left on his doorstep with a quick ring to alert him. So when he opens the door to see a guy standing there with a box tucked under one arm, he’s surprised. And he also isn’t wearing any underwear.

“Park Jimin-ssi?” the guy drawls, bored, before he looks at him. Really looks at him, his gaze dipping down to Jimin’s bare legs peeking out of his oversized t-shirt and back up to his face. Jimin doesn’t miss the way the corner of his mouth curls up.

“That’s me,” Jimin says, and leans against the doorjamb, because the delivery boy’s fucking hot.

Jimin takes in strong arms and a narrow waist, tattoos snaking over the backs of his hands and knuckles. They curl along his neck, just visible above his shirt. He has a pretty face, too, dark hair falling around his forehead. More importantly, Jimin can see the interest in his eyes, in the tilt of his head. Jimin likes the way the delivery boy’s attraction is so plain.

“Just need you to sign here, Jimin-ssi.” He holds out a tiny device, and Jimin takes it, their fingers brushing.

Jimin looks up at him, lower lip jutting out. “I don’t usually have to sign.”

“It’s, uh, a new rule, I think.”

Oh .” Jimin shapes the word with a little more emphasis than necessary. “I wasn’t expecting to see anyone at all, that’s why I’m out here like this,” he laughs a little bashfully, gesturing to his legs. Delivery Boy’s eyes flicker back down, lingering a little longer than before.

“No worries,” he says easily.

Jimin signs with a flourish, exchanging the device for his package. “Say, what’s your name? Do you always do deliveries here?”

Jimin feels like he’s a little too obvious in his intention, but the guy doesn’t seem to notice. “Jungkook. I’m filling in for a friend, actually.”

“Nice to meet you, Jungkook-ssi. My name’s Jimin.” He pauses, then giggles. “Wait, you already knew that.”

Jimin sets the package down on the floor by the doorway, knows a bit of his ass must peek out when he bends. He straightens to find Jungkook staring unabashedly. He doesn’t try to play it off. His gaze flickers to meet Jimin’s, raw desire turning it dark and heavy. Jimin’s only wearing a t-shirt. It would be easy for Jungkook to fuck him, flip up the hem of his shirt and slip in just like that.

“Do you have a lot of deliveries left?” Jimin asks sweetly, clasping his hands behind his back.

“You were my last one, actually.”

Jimin licks his lips, eyes hooded. “Do you wanna come in and take a break?”

Jungkook’s mouth parts, the hand at his side clenching into a fist. “Yeah,” he finally says. “Yeah, I’ll come in.”

They don’t make it past the entryway. Jimin barely manages to kick the door shut before Jungkook’s pressing him against the wall, his mouth hot and insistent and his grip firm on Jimin’s hips. Jungkook spreads his thighs and tugs Jimin up so he’s straddling him, held up by Jungkook’s hands under his ass.

“You’re a fucking tease,” Jungkook breathes against his neck, rolling his hips against Jimin’s ass. He’s already hard, and he feels big.

“Am not.” Jimin’s hands curl through Jungkook’s hair. “I’m letting you have me, aren’t I?”

Jungkook fucks him right there against the wall, rucking Jimin’s t-shirt up under his armpits and sliding him up the wall with every thrust. He’s big like Jimin suspected, big enough that Jimin knows he’ll feel his cock in him for days. He’s strong, too, and Jimin makes him take his shirt off so he can watch the way his muscles ripple as he fucks him, so he can run his fingers along the tattoos on his pecs.

Jungkook fucks him until he’s crying, his cock merciless and overwhelming as he spears him over and over. He calls him a slut, tells him the whole hall must be listening to him scream, tweaks his nipples until Jimin’s eyes roll back into his head. They were in too much of a hurry to remember condoms, so Jungkook spills inside Jimin’s ass, his cum hot and wet as it leaks out.

Jungkook seems fascinated with it, setting Jimin down and turning him around so he can push the leaking droplets back into his ass with his fingers. Jimin loves the feeling of cum in his ass, feels himself getting hard again the more Jungkook plays with him.

Jungkook takes him to the kitchen with the intention of helping him clean up, but he ends up fucking him bent over the counter, the slap of his hips meeting Jimin’s ass echoing throughout his apartment. Jimin makes a mess over his counter when he comes, and Jungkook spills in his ass again, lapping up the drops that make it down Jimin’s thigh with his tongue. Jimin’s almost sad when Jungkook cleans it all out.

“This was nice,” Jungkook says when Jimin sees him to the door. He thinks that’s a bit of an understatement. “I’ll see you around sometime.”

Jimin doubts it. “See you around,” he says, waving, and watches Jungkook head down the hallway before closing his door.

Later, when he tells him about it, Taehyung screeches, “You fucked the delivery boy ? You’re taking slut to new levels, Park Jimin.”

“That’s the goal,” Jimin proclaims. “Redefining the word slut. I’m working hard.”

“I aspire to follow in your footsteps. May I one day be like you.”

Jimin grins and flicks his best friend on the forehead. “Nice try, Taehyungie, but I’m one of a kind.”


Yoongi's already waiting for Jimin when he bounces into the auto shop the next week. He's spinning the Mustang's keys around his long fingers. He nods to Jimin when he enters before jerking his head in the direction of the parking lot. Jimin follows him out to his car, which waits freshly-washed and impeccably parked.

"She's all good to go," Yoongi says, settling into a crouch by the front tire. He beckons for Jimin to join him. "Lemme show you how to check your tire pressure, yeah?"

"Okay." Jimin sits cross-legged beside him.

Yoongi fiddles with cap on the tire, spinning it off and setting it on the cement between them. "Careful you don't lose that when you check," he says, covering the hole with a gauge. "You're gonna wanna do this when your tires aren't hot, so not after you've driven."

"Got it," Jimin says, staring at Yoongi's sharp profile, shadow cast over his face by his hat. He wonders if he can get Yoongi to fuck him today. The shop isn't that busy again, but he doesn't know if he's up for getting fucked in that tiny bathroom. Then again, now that he has his car back -

"Are you even listening?"

Jimin blinks. "Of course," he huffs, even though he hadn't realized Yoongi was still talking.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. Jimin's pretty sure he hears him mutter hopeless under his breath. He's about to say something when they're interrupted by the loud growling of an engine. Yoongi doesn't look phased, but Jimin frowns, peering around for the source of the noise.

It's a motorcycle, and it's huge. Jimin's so caught up staring at the big, black machine that he doesn't pays attention to the rider. At least, not until he's pulled up in a parking space and hopped off.

"Oh," Jimin breathes, because it's Delivery Boy.

Jungkook isn't small, but his bike's so big it makes him look tiny. Jimin watches him walk toward them with his mouth dry. That bike's a monster and the sight of Jungkook on it - well. Jimin isn't the type to be easily impressed, but right now he thinks he'd let Jungkook do whatever the hell he wanted to him.

"You're late," Yoongi calls, but Jungkook just grins.

He's staring at Jimin, though he doesn't seem averse to seeing him there. "Jimin-ssi," he says, and he sounds rather pleased.

"Hi." Jimin gives him a weak wave. It's starting to dawn on him that he's right in the middle of two guys he's fucked rather recently. He can't say he hasn't been in the situation before, but it's always a little awkward.

"You know each other?" Yoongi asks.

"Made a delivery to his apartment the other day when I was covering for Yugyeom," Jungkook says.

"Ah," Yoongi answers, his tone a little meaningful. " That delivery."

Jimin's red all the way to the ears, he can feel it. Jungkook turns away to fiddle with something on his bike. Jimin looks at Yoongi, his eyes wide and embarrassed. Yoongi, as usual, wears an unreadable expression. Then he brings a finger to his lips and holds it there until Jungkook turns back to face them.

Jimin gets it. Jungkook doesn't need to know.

"This your car?" Jungkook asks, running his fingers along the Mustang's hood. Jimin, if possible, turns redder.

"Um, yeah," he mumbles. "So, uh, how do you guys know each other?"

"We're brothers," Jungkook says, and Jimin chokes on his own spit.

Great. He fucked a pair of brothers .

Yoongi tightens the cap on his tire with more force than necessary. "Not brothers," he mutters, and Jimin glances at Jungkook to see his response. Jungkook looks frustrated, a vein in his jaw popping when he clenches it. Still, he doesn't argue.

The door to the shop's propped open, so when the phone rings, they hear the bell out in the parking lot. Yoongi pushes himself up, brushing his hands off on his pants, and heads inside to take it.

Jungkook stops in front of Jimin, peering down at him with his head tilted. Jimin likes the view he has sitting there, looking up at Jungkook with his legs apart. He's wearing dark jeans that hug his muscled thighs just right, loose white t-shirt with a dip in the neck. It's almost see-through, enough to see spots of dark where his nipples are.

"Show me your bike," Jimin says.

Jungkook holds out his hand. Jimin takes it, likes the way it's bigger, and lets Jungkook yank him to his feet. He stumbles a little on purpose, leaning into Jungkook's chest. Jungkook takes it in stride, wrapping an arm around his waist and turning him toward his bike.

"Pretty," Jimin murmurs, petting the leather seat. The bike's still warm from the drive. "It's so big."

Jungkook puffs out his chest at the praise. He looks proud of his bike, the smug look on his face growing the more Jimin fawns over it. "You like it?"

"Uh-huh." Jimin pulls out of his arms and swings a leg over the bike, pushing on top and straddling it. If it looked huge with Jungkook, it feels massive to him, big and heavy. Jimin can't imagine driving it.

Jungkook's watching him, so he reaches for the handlebars and arches. He knows his jeans make his ass look even better than usual. He spreads his legs, thighs straining his jeans. When he casts a glance in Jungkook's direction, he sees him lick his lips. He wonders if he can get Jungkook to fuck him on the bike. He's getting all hot and bothered thinking about it, halfway to convincing Jungkook to fuck him right here.

"Suits you," Jungkook says, voice a little rough.

Jimin slips off with Jungkook's help, peering at him under his lashes. "You gonna give me a ride sometime?"

Jungkook's hands find the bike on either side of Jimin, caging him in as he leans forward. "Sure, baby, I can give you a ride."

Jungkook's eyes are dark, wanting, and Jimin doesn't hesitate to pull him in. He kisses him back like he's starved for it, arms winding around his neck as Jungkook's hands slip under the hem of his sweater to run up his bare sides. Jungkook presses him against the bike, the line of his body hard against his, and Jimin's just about running out of air when someone clears their throat and Jungkook pulls away.

Yoongi doesn't look as uncomfortable as he must feel. Jimin flushes, trying to catch his breath, and wipes his spit-slick mouth. This is too much for him, the air of awkwardness between them. He and Yoongi don't have anything concrete between them, but he still feels bad.

"Here," Yoongi says, tossing Jimin his car keys. "And you can have this, too." He tosses him the tire pressure gauge, too, and Jimin sticks it in his pocket. "Even though you weren't listening."

"I was too listening," Jimin huffs, and Yoongi's blank gaze finally flickers with a bit of amusement.

"Right. See you around, Jimin-ssi."

He turns away and heads back inside before Jimin can say anything else, not that he knows what to say. He glances at Jungkook, who stares after Yoongi's retreating back with something strange in his expression.

"Um, I guess I better be going," Jimin says, only because this is too much for him. Taehyung always teases him about how he lives for drama, but he doesn't. Not like this.

Jungkook's attention returns to him. He frowns, brows furrowing. "Already?"

Jimin shrugs. He unlocks his car and tugs the door open. "Bye, Jungkook."

Jungkook catches his wrist before he can slip inside, tugging him back toward his chest. He runs his free hand down Jimin's cheek. "Am I gonna see you again?"

Jimin flushes, biting his lip. He throws a glance toward the auto shop unbidden. Jungkook notices; something in his expression shifts. "I dunno," he says, because this is all far more complicated then he ever wants sex to be. "Maybe I'll see you around."

He pulls away from Jungkook's hold, slipping into his car and tugging the door shut. He waves from the window, guilt tugging at his stomach at Jungkook's disappointed face, before he pulls out of the parking lot and away from the auto shop.


Taehyung's sunglasses are nearly as big as his face, a fact that Jimin finds annoying. He isn't hungover, he just likes looking like he is. Taehyung's the one who really feeds off drama.

"Try it," Jimin insists, pushing his mimosa toward Taehyung. "It barely even tastes like alcohol."

Taehyung turns his nose up. "Liar. Get that away from me."

Jimin huffs and pulls it back. "Fine. More for me then."

"Anyway, I don't see what the problem is," Taehyung says, spearing a bite of his omelette onto his fork. "In fact, this is actually a good thing."

Jimin peers at him dubiously. "How the hell is this a good thing?"

"Because now you can get them both to fuck you. At the same time." Taehyung mimes his head exploding with a little sound effect to match. "I know, I'm a genius."

Jimin's lip curls. He leans over and steals one of Taehyung's potatoes. "You're an idiot. Did you miss the part where I said they were brothers ?"

"And?" Taehyung blinks. “They’re fucking you, not each other.”

"That's weird. You think they're gonna wanna fuck me at the same time when they're brothers ?" he hisses, lowering his voice when he realizes a girl a table over is staring at them. "Anyway, isn't it kind of incest already that they've both been inside me - "

"Okay, TMI."

"I'm just saying."

"Well, didn't you say one of them said something about not being brothers?"

Jimin considers, leaning back in his seat. "Maybe they're step?"

"So less weird."

"Still weird, Kim Taehyung."

Taehyung shrugs. "You're missing out on this opportunity, Park Jimin."

Jimin huffs. "You're no help at all," he mutters, and goes back to his food.


Jimin has long since perfected the art of whining. He knows exactly how big and sad to make his eyes, exactly how to jut out his lip in a cute pout. He can pitch his voice higher and cajole pretty much anyone (except his mother) into doing what he wants. He’d always thought Seokjin was as susceptible to his charm as everyone else. Now he’s starting to realize maybe Seokjin only gave in because he wanted to.

“No,” Seokjin says for the fifth time in a row, just as calm and firm as the first time.

“But I’m lost without you, hyung,” Jimin sniffles, bouncing alongside Seokjin as he carries files to his car.

“In case you’d forgotten,” Seokjin says, “I’m employed by your mother, not you. Which means if I go against her, I get fired.” He knocks his designer shoes against the side of his car for emphasis. “And I like getting paid, thanks.”

“But she’s being unfair - ”

Seokjin places the last box of files in his backseat and turns around to finally give Jimin his full attention. “As your hyung, let me give you some advice.” He sighs. “Your mother’s not wrong, Jimin.”

Jimin’s face immediately melts into annoyance. “What - ”

“Let me finish,” Seokjin says, firm enough that Jimin snaps his mouth shut. “I don’t think it’s fair of her to force you into the business the way she is, you know I don’t. But you’re doing nothing with your life.”

Jimin’s scowl turns moodier. He scuffs his feet against the ground and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“You used to do so much,” Seokjin says, gentler this time. “You had so many dreams.”

“That’s not fair,” Jimin mutters. “You know why I don’t anymore.”

“I know,” Seokjin sighs. “I know it isn’t your fault. But you need to figure something out because you can’t laze around like this for the rest of your life. It isn’t in your personality. You’re gonna make yourself miserable.”

“There’s nothing for me to do.”

“I’m not saying you have to do anything big. Just do something. Fill your time with something that’ll make you feel good about yourself.”

“My time’s full enough, thanks.”

“Is that why you wake up at two every afternoon with a hangover?”

Jimin crosses his arms over his chest in defense. Asking Seokjin for help was clearly a mistake.

“Why don’t you take a dance class again?” Seokjin suggests.

“She already said she wouldn’t pay for that shit anymore - ”

“So pay for it yourself,” Seokjin shrugs.

Jimin blinks, floundering. Considers.

“Pay for it yourself,” Seokjin repeats. “Find a job like the rest of us. She can’t do anything about it if you’re the one paying for it.”

Jimin uncrosses his arms, his mind still whirring. “I’ll think on it. Thanks, hyung.”

Seokjin claps his shoulder. “No problem. Now get out of here, I’m ready to clock out.”


It makes the most sense to ask Taehyung first. Jimin’s known his family for as long as he can remember; he likes Taehyung’s mother far better than his own. But he underestimates exactly how overzealous his mother is when it comes to her rules; the next day, Taehyung calls back to say they can’t hire him.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “My mom said your mom made her promise she wouldn’t encourage your waywardness , or whatever.”

Jimin’s back at square one. He’d had a small job in university helping out in a children’s dance class, but he’d only found that through luck. His instructor had asked him to help out for a bit of cash, and he’d done it more out of obligation to her than anything else.

So he doesn’t know how to find a job. Taehyung suggests walking around and asking, so he heads to the nearest strip mall and gives it a try. The first three shops he tries say they aren’t hiring. His charm at least gets the fourth shop to write his name down, though he doubts anything will come out of it.

He wanders around, debating whether he should head into another clothing shop or stop for some well-deserved ice cream. It’s been a long day already; rejection can take a lot out of you, Jimin decides.

He’s peering at the menu plastered outside the ice cream shop when he backs into something - or rather, someone.

“Jimin-ssi,” says the voice by his ear, and Jimin spins around in surprise.

“Jungkook,” he says, eyes wide and taken aback.

Jungkook’s smiling at him, head tilted, and Jimin doesn’t know quite how to feel. His stomach flutters. A few days ago, Jungkook had texted him, said he’d gotten his number from the auto shop. Can I see you again ?

Jimin had ignored it. Jungkook had been decent enough to get the hint, hadn’t bothered him after that like a lot of guys liked to. Jimin’s had to change his number to avoid them before. But still, he’d felt bad for ghosting him, felt worse because a part of him had wanted to see Jungkook again.

And Yoongi, too.

That’s where it got complicated.

“Hey,” Jimin says, and he doesn’t quite manage to hide how pleased he sounds.

“You came for some ice cream?” he asks, nodding toward the shop behind them.

Jimin sighs. “I’m looking for a job, actually. But I got hungry.”

“Come on,” Jungkook says. “My treat.”

“Um - ” Jimin starts, pretty sure it isn’t good form to let Jungkook buy him ice cream after ghosting him, but Jungkook’s already heading inside.

Jimin follows him up to the counter. “Hey,” he begins, but Jungkook waves him off.

The girl at the counter asks for their orders, and Jimin gives in. He lets Jungkook buy him a cone of ice cream, following him out to sit at one of the shop’s outdoor tables. A bright red umbrella protects them from the afternoon sun.

“What kind of job are you looking for?” Jungkook asks.

Jimin shrugs, licking a stray drop of ice cream from the cone before it drips to his fingers. “Anything, I guess.”

Jungkook’s staring at his mouth. Jimin resists the urge to play.

“Do you work at the auto shop? Or do you do deliveries?”

"The shop, mostly. Deliveries when my friend asks me to cover." Something about the way Jungkook's looking at him has Jimin squirming, heat rising under his collar. "You didn't answer my text."

"I didn't," Jimin agrees. He doesn't offer anything more.

Jungkook stands, and Jimin's stomach swoops with disappointment. But instead of walking away, he tosses his ice cream cup in the trash and steps toward him, casting a shadow over Jimin's seated figure. "I promised you a ride on my bike, if you're still interested."

Jimin stares up at him, licking a drop of ice cream off his lips. If only Jungkook weren't so hot, this would be easy. But he's as gorgeous as he always is - dark t-shirt and Timbs, beanie pushing his hair into his forehead, the tats on his hands. And he isn't pushy, despite the way he doesn't bother hiding his interest. Jimin hates guys who are pushy. But Jungkook, he's endearing.

"Okay," Jimin says against himself. It's just a ride.

Jimin takes Jungkook's proffered hand and follows him to the parking lot behind the strip mall where it's a little emptier. He finishes his ice cream on the way, and awe has his eyes widening when he sees Jungkook's bike in all its glory, as if it's the first time again.

"You really like my bike, huh?" Jungkook says, amused, catching the shift in expression.

Jimin schools his face back into nonchalance. "It's all right."

"Liar," Jungkook laughs.

Jimin lets go of his hand to trace his fingers along the bike's handles. "Okay, let's go ," he says, and Jungkook laughs again.

"Hold on." He tugs Jimin in, reaching up to brush his thumb against the corner of Jimin's mouth. "You've got a bit of ice cream."

Jimin's breath catches in his throat. He peers at him, belly stirring with want. Jungkook doesn't move his hand. His eyes are dark.

"I don't get it," Jungkook murmurs. "You don't look like you don't wanna see me."

Jimin flushes. He glances away from him, pursing his lips.

"What's holding you back?" Jungkook's voice is soft as he leans in. They're only a breath away from each other now.

Jimin doesn't want to look at him, knows he won't be able to resist if he does, but his gaze flickers back to Jungkook unbidden. He exhales shakily, then Jungkook's kissing him.

It's a slow, deep kiss, the kind that has Jimin's toes curling and a shudder tearing through his spine. He arches into him, lashes fluttering shut, as Jungkook maps out every corner of his mouth. The brush of tongues has him whimpering. The intensity with which Jungkook kisses him is both too much and not enough. It isn't anything like the last time they'd kissed, sloppy and desperate. Jungkook's taking his time.

When they break apart, Jimin's legs are wobbly. He clutches Jungkook's arms to keep himself upright. He's almost embarrassed at how much he's affected, but god, Jungkook knows what he's doing. Jungkook's looking at him like he's the center of his world.  Jimin doesn't know how he should feel about someone who doesn't even know him looking at him like that.

"Come on," Jungkook says, letting Jimin go at last.

He swings a leg onto the bike and jerks his head for Jimin to do the same. Jimin straddles the bike behind him, wrapping his arms around Jungkook's waist. He presses a little closer than he needs to, his thighs tight around Jungkook's, cheek resting against his back.

"Ready?" Jungkook calls as the engine roars to life.

"Let's go," Jimin insists, and Jungkook grins at him like it's a challenge.

Jungkook tears off fast enough that Jimin lets out a surprised squeak, tightening his grip around Jungkook's waist. He plays with Jimin, riding fast around the curves, and Jimin gives him the reactions he wants, giggling and holding on even tighter. At a stoplight, he can't help himself, fingers slipping under the hem of Jungkook's shirt to brush his abdomen and feel the way his muscles tense.

"Let me take you home," Jungkook calls at the next one, and Jimin finds himself agreeing.

His building isn't far, and he parks quickly before tugging Jimin inside. As soon as the elevator doors slide shut, Jimin presses Jungkook against the wall, kissing him hard. His floor arrives in a second, and they're stumbling off, Jungkook's fingers fumbling for his keys.

Jimin freezes the second he steps inside the apartment.

He's been here.

He's an idiot. He'd been too caught up in Jungkook to pay any attention to the building, but now that he's here he recognizes the couch where Yoongi had eaten him out and the kitchen where they'd shared a beer before he left.

Jimin had promised himself he wouldn't get caught up in all this, but here he is again.

"What's wrong?" Jungkook asks, hands on Jimin's waist.

"I fucked your brother," Jimin blurts, then claps a hand over his mouth.

He could have gone about that a bit smoother.

Jungkook stares at him. Jimin can see right when it clicks, his brow tensing and jaw clenching tight enough that a vein pops. He lets Jimin go and takes a step back. "What?"

"I'm sorry," Jimin says miserably. "It was before I met you."

It seems to dawn on him, then. "You’re the guy he brought home from the club?"

Jimin nods.

“I knew he was lying,” Jungkook mutters. “He said he didn’t bring anyone home.”

Jimin shrugs. He leans against the wall by the doorway, scuffing his feet against the ground.

“When did you realize?” Jungkook asks him.

"When I saw you guys at the auto shop. He, uh, didn't want you to find out."

Jungkook curses and kicks the door, a sudden outburst that startles Jimin and has him taking a step away. "Of course he didn't. Fucking - " He runs a hand through his hair, catching himself, and turns back to Jimin. When he realizes how alarmed Jimin looks, he immediately relaxes. "Sorry. Sorry, I'm not mad at you. He's just - it's complicated."

“Right,” Jimin mutters, because that’s exactly why he shouldn’t be here.

“Come sit down.” Jungkook heads into the kitchen and pulls out a chair, gesturing for Jimin to take it. He does, albeit reluctantly. Jungkook takes the seat across from him, resting his arms on the table with a sigh. “So that’s why you were avoiding me.”

“I didn’t want things to get weird.”

“They’re already weird.”

“You’re the one who wouldn’t get the hint,” Jimin huffs. “I tried.”

Jungkook holds his hands up in defense. “Sorry I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

Jimin huffs again, crossing his arms over his chest, though he can feel his cheeks growing hot. Something about Jungkook is just so earnest. Jimin doesn’t know how to deal with it.

Jungkook sighs. “I might have told him I, uh, liked you a lot after we met. That’s probably why he didn’t want me to find out.”

Jimin gets it. Yoongi was backing off for the sake of his little brother. He doesn’t know how to feel about that, or how to feel about Jungkook’s admission that he likes him. They’re silent, and it’s a little uncomfortable.

The door opens, and a voice floats down the hall.

“Yah, Jungkook-ah, how many times have I told you to lock the door - ”

Yoongi turns the corner, sees them sitting at the table, and halts in his tracks. There’s a tense second where the three of them just stare at each other. Yoongi moves first, setting a bag of groceries on the counter.

“Hey, Jimin,” he says warily, and Jimin raises a hand to wave in response.

Jungkook stands to take the other grocery bag from Yoongi’s hand and set it aside. He stops in front of him, his expression hard, and Yoongi peers at him with his brows furrowed.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jungkook demands.

“Tell you what?” Yoongi says slowly, glancing at Jimin, who’s still sitting at the table wringing his hands. He hopes they won’t fight. He’s been in the middle of a fight before. They make it sound romantic, two guys fighting over you, but it isn’t like that all. It was scary, and he’d panicked.

“That you guys fucked.”

Jimin stands, peering between them. Yoongi winces.

“Just - wasn’t that important.”

Jungkook’s hands clench into fists at his sides. “Stop lying. You don’t have to protect me anymore, you know.”

Yoongi throws his hands up and shrugs. “Never said it was about that.”

“I’m not a kid. Quit treating me like I’m a kid.”

Yoongi’s eyes narrow. He drops his hands, shoulders tight and defensive. “Yeah? ‘Cause you’re acting like a kid right now.”

“I think I’m gonna go,” Jimin says, inching out of the kitchen.

“Jimin - ” Jungkook starts, turning toward him, but Jimin shakes his head.

“Look, I don’t wanna start any shit, okay? I’m just gonna go.”

He tugs on his shoes and slips out before they can say anything more.


Two days later, he gets a phone call from Yoongi.

Never one to mince his words, Yoongi’s voice comes curt down the line.

“Heard you were looking for a job.”


“Are you even listening?” Yoongi demands, shaking the stack of papers he’s holding for emphasis.

Jimin isn’t listening. He’s too busy fiddling with the rings on his fingers, whose positioning is a little bit off. “Of course I’m listening,” he huffs. “I heard every word you said.”

“I haven’t officially hired you yet, you know,” Yoongi threatens, taking an annoyed drag from his diminishing cigarette.

They’re standing outside the auto shop while Yoongi takes a smoke break. He’s been training him for the past hour or so, and Jimin’s bored out of his mind. Manning the front desk and answering some phone calls can’t be that hard, but Yoongi’s nothing if not thorough.

“Don’t hire me then,” Jimin sniffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

He'd been apprehensive about accepting Yoongi's offer, given the situation. It hadn't helped that Yoongi mentioned it was Jungkook's insistence that led him to call. But after three days of hunting, Jimin had learned that finding a job was hard, and turning down a perfectly good position would be foolish. So he'd clarified first with Yoongi that he wanted absolutely no drama, then he'd called Jungkook to make sure he understood that accepting the job didn't bind Jimin to him. Jungkook had seemed surprised that he would even have to ask.

“‘Course not,” he’d said easily. “I have plenty of other ways to convince you.”

That had just made Jimin flustered.

“You’re the one who needs a job,” Yoongi says now, glaring at him from under the brim of his cap.

“And you’re the one who offered.”

“Do you guys do anything but argue?” Jungkook calls from inside the garage, finally emerging to join them. The air between him and Yoongi is still tense, but Jimin knows better than to mention it.

“We do,” Jimin insists.

Jungkook beelines straight for Yoongi, an annoyed set to his jaw. He takes the cigarette from Yoongi’s fingers and tosses it to the ground, crushing it beneath his boot. Yoongi bristles, looks like he’s about to fight him for it, then relaxes. “Fuck you,” he mutters, but there’s no real heart to it.

“Quit smoking,” Jungkook retorts, then turns his attention back to Jimin. “When he’s done with you, come meet me in the garage. I wanna show you something.”

“Okay,” Jimin agrees.

“No dawdling,” Yoongi warns. “They’re picking that car up tonight, you hear?”

Jungkook waves two fingers to show he’s heard as he turns away and heads back toward the garage. His fitted tank top shows off the strong muscles of his arms, the slim curve of his waist and the tattoos snaking along his nape. Jimin sighs, a weaker part of him wondering if he should give in and let Jungkook pursue him. But even if Yoongi says he’s fine with it, it’s still weird, knowing he’s fucked Jungkook’s brother.

Jimin glances over at Yoongi and finds him staring at Jungkook’s retreating figure, too. Yoongi’s gaze dips down to Jungkook’s waist, to his thick thighs. Then he looks away, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Jimin can’t help the way his eyes widen because that was definitely how you look at someone you wanna fuck. Jimin would know.

He shifts his gaze straight ahead of him and clears his throat. After a second of deliberation, he asks, “So, uh, what’d you mean when you said you guys weren’t brothers?”

Yoongi glances at him.

“Not to be nosy,” Jimin adds as an afterthought.

“You’re being nosy,” Yoongi says bluntly. He’s quiet for long enough that Jimin starts to wilt in disappointment, thinking he won’t get an answer after all. Then, “His family took me in when I was younger.”

Jimin shapes his mouth in an understanding oh, thinks he’s starting to get the picture. He might be nosy, but he isn’t nosy enough to ask what happened to Yoongi’s family. They fall into silence again. Yoongi doesn’t seem inclined to go back to training; Jimin feels a little bad, knows he should have been paying more attention. He’ll do better when he starts working, he decides.

“He likes you,” Yoongi blurts. Jimin glances at him, brows furrowed, wonders how Jungkook could like him when he barely knows him. Yoongi doesn’t look at him when he speaks. “If you’re holding back ‘cause of me, don’t. There won’t be any drama.”

Jimin frowns.

“Not trying to say you gotta be with him or anything, just clearing the air.”

Slowly, Jimin nods.

“Come on,” Yoongi pushes off the wall and heads for the door. “Lemme show you some of the files.”


Jimin’s doing a good job.

He can say that with confidence, considering how much the auto shop customers seem to like him. More than one older lady has cooed over how cute and friendly he is, letting Yoongi know he made a good decision hiring such a nice face to welcome his customers. Jimin might not be the best when it comes to the technical stuff, makes more than one mistake that Yoongi gets on his ass for, but overall he’s doing a good job.

It’s nice, feeling proud of himself. He feels accomplished, useful, and he likes it. There’s a little bubble of satisfaction in his belly that grows with each day that passes. When he signs up for his first dance class, it blooms until he’s overwhelmed with it. He’d discovered the studio he used to dance at in uni was far too expensive for his tiny salary, and the disappointment had almost driven him to give up.

But he hadn’t given up. He’d found another place, a smaller one, run by a pleasant guy named Hoseok who’s near his age. The day he signs up, he’s bursting with glee, enough that Yoongi asks him what’s got him so bubbly that morning. He’s so excited he can’t help but share. Yoongi looks quietly fond, claps him on the back and tells him he’s proud of him.

Knowing someone’s proud of him feels the best.

So work’s great, and everything’s great, except for the ever-present problem: he’s always sleepy.

Waking up early to start his shift at the shop proved difficult enough that he was late the first three days. Yoongi had a stern talk with him, said he wouldn’t hesitate to let him go if he didn’t do better. After that he’d set six alarms a morning, and he wasn’t late again. But he’s always scrambling to get ready in the mornings, never has time to stop for coffee. He doesn’t have a coffee maker because he’s never needed one before; there’s a coffee shop connected to his apartment building.

“Can I have a sip?” he says one morning, staring at the large, ever-present coffee mug in Yoongi’s hand.

“Get your own,” Yoongi mutters, thumbing through the directory for a phone number.

“Please, I’m desperate,” Jimin whines, and he only has to wheedle a little more before Yoongi lets him.

“Bring your own tomorrow,” Yoongi says. Jimin drapes himself dramatically over the countertop. It isn’t a busy day, which only means he’s sleepier from boredom.

“I can’t wake up early enough to stop for some.”

“Make your own.”

“I don’t have a coffee maker. I always buy.”

That makes Yoongi snort. “You’re so spoiled,” he complains, but there’s no real bite to his tone. By now, Jimin can pinpoint the subtle difference between actually annoyed Yoongi and pretending to be annoyed Yoongi.

The next day, he comes in to a travel mug of hot coffee sitting on the front desk. Yoongi and Jungkook are both in the garage, but there’s a hastily scribbled post-it note stuck to the mug. Stop stealing my coffee . It’s Yoongi’s handwriting, Jimin can tell. He grins and takes a welcome first sip of the fresh coffee.

Yoongi stops in later to print something off the computer, and Jimin waves the empty coffee mug at him happily. “Thank you, hyung.”

“‘S nothing,” Yoongi says gruffly, squinting at the computer. He isn’t wearing a hat today, his soft, black hair falling into his eyes. Jimin resists the urge to brush it away.

“You know,” Jimin starts, resting his chin in his hand as he leans on the counter. “You try to act all cool and tough, but you’re really a teddy bear.”

Yoongi shoots him a look that’s a mix between embarrassed and annoyed. “Yah, be quiet and do your work.”

“I’m just saying. You’re a big softie.”

Yoongi’s ears redden. “Shut up.”  

Jimin coos, reaching to squeeze his earlobe. “You’re blushing, cute.”

Yoongi grabs his wrist and pulls it away, turning on him. “Park Jimin,” he warns, tone dangerous in a way that makes Jimin’s belly stir. He can’t help but giggle, leaning away from his grasp.

The bell above the shop door jingles, and Yoongi lets him go. He straightens, bowing in the direction of the customer. “Hi, welcome,” he chirps, and she smiles.

She’s only picking up her car, so Jimin fetches her keys and prints her a receipt before bowing her out. Yoongi heads back into the garage, and Jimin returns to playing solitaire on the computer until Jungkook walks in a few minutes later.

“Hey,” Jungkook says, tilting his head in that way he knows looks hot. Jimin’s annoyed at exactly how much he agrees.

“Hey,” Jimin responds, eyeing him. Since they started working together, they've been dancing around each other. Nearly every interaction they've had is flirty but restrained. They’re getting to know each other, too, and Jimin’s finding it harder to convince himself Jungkook doesn’t really like him. He doesn’t know me doesn’t quite work as an argument anymore. “Slacking on your job again, I see.”

Jungkook comes behind the counter to peer over his shoulder at the computer screen. “Look who’s talking. Every time I walk in, you’re playing Solitaire. What’s this, Game 50?”

“Actually,” Jimin snarks, turning around and accidentally-on-purpose giving Jungkook the chance to cage him against the counter, “it’s 52.”

Oh , 52,” Jungkook says, faking like he’s amazed. He’s close, his hands on either side of Jimin, their bodies only inches apart. “My bad.”

Jimin bites his lip, reaches up to play with the necklace Jungkook always wears - a thin leather chain with a simple moon pendant. He’d mentioned offhand that it was an old gift from Yoongi. Jimin glances up, and Jungkook’s looking at him, eyes dark. They haven’t kissed since the day they met at the ice cream shop. They’ve been close to it, sure, but Jimin gets the sense that Jungkook’s waiting for him to make the first move this time. And the more time they spend together, the more Jimin wants .

“When are you gonna let me come over again?” Jungkook murmurs, and Jimin knows what he’s really asking.

“You didn’t really come over the first time,” Jimin teases, avoiding the question. He wants Jungkook to come over, he wants it, he just…

Jungkook runs a hand down his cheek, the touch soft. He leans in, mouth against Jimin’s ear. “Or maybe I could fuck you on my bike instead.”

Jimin inhales sharply, shudder of arousal running through his body. Jungkook pulls back to look at him, and Jimin knows he must look as turned on as he feels. “Yeah,” he breathes. “You could do that.”

Jungkook’s grin is a little wicked, like the cat that got the cream. He drops a kiss to the corner of Jimin’s mouth, a teasing one, before pulling away. “Quit slacking,” he says, slipping out from behind the counter and leaving Jimin jelly-legged.

“Speak for yourself,” Jimin retorts.

Jungkook catches sight of the coffee mug, peels the sticky note off it curiously. “Yoongi hyung?”

“He got me coffee,” Jimin explains.

Jungkook’s tongue pokes the inside of his cheek. He rubs his nose, annoyed. “Hyung never makes me coffee,” he mutters, before heading back to the garage.


Jimin’s in a good mood - a great mood, even - when he walks out of dance class one afternoon and gets a call from Seokjin.

Hoseok had stopped him on his way out to talk to him about an upcoming showcase. He wants him to take part. So he’s in a great mood, bounce in his step and smile on his face, before Seokjin calls.

“Hi, hyung,” he chirps.

“Jimin-ah.” Seokjin’s tone is serious, concerned. “Have you spoken to your mother recently?”

“She texted me yesterday about a dinner with Taehyung’s family next week. Why?”

“She found out you got a job. She’s been pretty pissed, rants about how ungrateful you are every time I pass her office.”

“What else is new.”

“It feels worse this time,” Seokjin insists. “I’m just warning you. Something’s coming, I can feel it.”

Jimin frowns, troubled, as he gets into his car and sits with the engine off. “What do you think she’s gonna do?”

Seokjin hesitates, then, “I have no idea. Just be wary, yeah?”

“Yeah. Thanks, hyung.”

“And I’m proud of you, kiddo. You’re doing a great job.”


Jimin has spent the majority of the last hour giggling, and he swears it isn’t because he’s trying to flirt.

Okay, he’s spent the majority of the last hour flirting, too. But giggling isn’t one of his flirting methods today; he just can’t help it. Jungkook’s funny. Jimin’s always falling all over the place from laughter when they’re together, has Yoongi rolling his eyes, but it isn’t on purpose. If anything, it’s Jungkook’s fault for trying so hard to make him laugh.

“That doesn’t even look like a bunny,” Jimin insists, barely managing to speak amidst his laughter. He peers at the over-muscled character Jungkook’s drawn on the notepad they use to take down phone calls. The shop’s closed, and Jimin’s only here because he had to wrap up some paperwork. He’s pretty sure Jungkook’s only here to bother him.

“This,” Jungkook says, “is art. And life imitates art.”

“You’re full of shit, you know that?”

“You’re the one who thinks I’m so funny.”

“Yah.” Jimin swats at his arm. “You’re so annoying.”

“Liar,” Jungkook says, bumping their shoulders. His eyes sparkle as he looks down at Jimin. “You love me.”

Jimin glances away, flush spreading across his cheeks. Jimin’s good at flirting, good at playing along, but Jungkook still manages to fluster him. He’s just so forward. But it’s never in a way that’s presumptuous or frustrating.

“My bike’s in the garage,” Jungkook says, voice pitching lower.

Jimin gets his intention right away. He turns toward him, raising an eyebrow. “Your proposition still stands?”

“‘Course. Was waiting for you.”

“Hyung’s not here, is he?” Jimin checks. He can’t remember seeing Yoongi leave.

“Nah, pretty sure he left already.”

“Well.” Jimin licks his lips, peering at Jungkook from under his lashes. “I don’t have anywhere to be.”

The corner of Jungkook’s mouth turns up in a smile. He holds his hand out. Jimin takes it, threading their fingers together, and lets him lead them out to the garage. There’s only one car in the garage at the far end, leaving plenty of room for Jungkook’s bike in all its glory. It looks freshly washed, gleaming under the tube lights. Jimin moves ahead of Jungkook, eager to run his hands along the sleek handlebars again, but Jungkook halts him with a tug. He pulls Jimin into his chest, thumb tracing his lips delicately. Then he kisses him, slow and long, pulls away only when Jimin’s dizzy.

“Been dreaming about this,” Jungkook murmurs. He walks Jimin toward the bike, stopping when Jimin’s back hits the seat.

“Me, too,” Jimin admits. He starts to undo the buttons of his shirt, eager to get on with it, but Jungkook brushes his hands away.

“Let me,” he insists.

Jungkook undresses him slowly, leaving searing kisses in the wake of his hands, lips mapping out every inch of skin that’s steadily revealed. Jimin’s half-hard by the time he’s naked, shuddering from the intensity of Jungkook’s attention. He’s pushing Jimin onto the bike, tugging out a packet of lube from his pocket, when Jimin stops him. He flips their positions, presses Jungkook against the bike so he can drop to his knees and suck him off first.

Jungkook has a big, thick cock, and Jimin loves the weight of it on his tongue. He’d be happy to just sit with it in his mouth, drool leaking down his chin. But he wants to get fucked, too, so he blows him until Jungkook’s pulling him off before he comes.

“Wanna come inside you,” Jungkook insists.

Jungkook fucks him spread out on his back, his body half on the seat and half between the handlebars. The console digs into his back, but Jimin doesn’t care, caught up in the way the leather seat feels against his skin, the desperate force of Jungkook’s thrusts. He grows delirious with it, jaw slack, fingers digging into Jungkook’s arms.

“J-Jungkook - ” he moans, and just when he’s ready to come, the door opens.

Yoongi steps out; he’s in the middle of lighting a cigarette. He freezes at the sight of them, eyes widening.

Jungkook stops moving, and Jimin lies slack against the bike, panting for breath.

For a long, long moment, they all stare at each other.

Jimin grows hot under Yoongi’s gaze, finds himself wanting to preen, to arch and shift his gaze to something sultry. He doesn’t move, though, not until Yoongi says, “Don’t mind me,” and proceeds to lean against the wall and take a drag of his cigarette.

Jimin turns back to Jungkook, who meets his eyes with a similar intensity. They stare at each other, a silent deliberation. “Don’t stop,” Jimin finally says.

“You gonna be a good boy for hyung?” Jungkook murmurs, low and dark, and Jimin finds himself flushing, nodding, desperate to be good.

Jungkook starts to fuck him again, and this time his thrusts are harder, slower. He grips Jimin’s waist hard enough to leave bruises, his muscles clenching with the force of every movement. Every roll of his hips is deep enough to have Jimin crying out, nails digging into Jungkook’s skin. He thinks Jungkook’s showing off.

Yoongi’s watching silently, smoking his cigarette down to nothing. Jimin meets his gaze, arching off the bike, and pulls his hand off Jungkook’s arm so he can suck on his fingers. He laves his tongue around them, knowing he looks obscene, until Jungkook’s thrusts pick up speed. Then he can’t manage, his mouth falling open, drool coating his fingers.

Ah - Jungkookie - ” His hand falls out of his mouth, limp as it dangles off the bike. Jungkook’s fucking him hard enough that the bike’s shifting. Jimin’s moans are out of his control, body slack and useless as he lies there and takes it, eyes rolling back into his head. “ Please .”

“Please, what?” Jungkook grunts, veins in his neck popping. “What more do you want, slut?”

Jimin whimpers, reaching for him. “Wanna come, Jungkookie.”

“Then come,” he allows. “Come for us.”

It only takes a few more thrusts for Jimin’s orgasm to hit him, head snapping backwards, his body tensing painfully until he relaxes, loose and pliant. Jungkook follows him, moaning as he spills inside Jimin’s ass, leaning over to sink his teeth into Jimin’s shoulder. The sudden silence that follows the apex of noise is heavy, filled only with their panting breath.

Jimin’s head falls to the side, his eyes finding Yoongi’s. He’s done with his cigarette, and he’s hard; Jimin can see the bulge in his jeans.

“Hyung,” Jimin slurs, lashes fluttering. “Did Jiminie do good?”

Jungkook drops a soft kiss on Jimin’s neck before straightening, carefully pulling out of Jimin, stroking his hair when he whines at the loss. Jimin can feel the cum dripping out of his ass. Jungkook shifts to look at Yoongi, too, something intense and demanding about the way he waits for an answer.

“Yes,” Yoongi says, his locked with Jungkook’s, “Jiminie’s such a good boy.”

Jungkook turns back to Jimin, wiping a bit of drool off Jimin’s chin. He helps Jimin sit up, gently rubbing the lines pressed into his back by the bike. “Looks like hyung needs some help,” he says, his tone almost wicked.

Jimin eyes Yoongi’s bulge and licks his lips. “Hyung, c’mere. I wanna suck your cock.”

Jimin can see Yoongi’s Adam’s apple bob when he swallows. Yoongi’s gaze flickers between the two of them. “Come on,” Jungkook says. “Give him what he wants, hyung.”

Yoongi approaches slowly, the look he turns on Jimin nearly reverent. He stops by them, his attention shifting to Jungkook. They’re staring at each other with a kind of raw desire that makes Jimin’s belly stir despite how sated he is. They’re close, their gazes dark like it’s a challenge, and Jimin thinks they’re a second from kissing before Yoongi finally turns back to him. The moment’s gone.

“You like sucking cock, Jiminie?” Yoongi asks. He sounds patronizing.

Jimin nods.

“You know what that makes you?” Jungkook says, and Jimin peers between them with wide eyes.

“Think that makes him a cockslut,” Yoongi murmurs. He reaches out tentatively to trace a finger along Jimin’s jaw.

Jimin pouts, pushing off the bike to stand on legs that are still wobbly. “I am,” he says petulantly. “And I wanna suck you off.”

Jimin sinks to the floor, and Yoongi jerks to stop him. “Your knees - ” he starts, and Jungkook slides over the mat he’d used earlier for Jungkook. Jimin thinks it’s sweet that they’re so worried about his knees bruising when he doesn’t really mind.

“Go on,” Jungkook says, threading his fingers through Jimin’s hair. He’s positioned behind him like a guard, guiding his head toward Yoongi’s cock.

Jimin sucks Yoongi off under Jungkook’s watchful guidance, blissfully content with another cock in his mouth and cum still fresh in his ass. He’s lucky, he thinks, that he gets to suck both their cocks tonight. Yoongi doesn’t last long, turned on as he is by watching for so long. He spills on Jimin’s tongue, and Jimin doesn't get the chance to swallow before Jungkook tugs him away, crouching down so he can kiss him. It’s a wet, messy kiss, Jungkook's tongue lapping up the cum in Jimin's mouth.

“Shit,” Yoongi breathes, and his eyes are wide.

Jungkook seems to come to his senses, then. A flush spreads across his cheeks as he pulls away from Jimin, standing and clearing his throat. He won’t meet either of their eyes. “Lemme get you home, Jimin hyung,” he mumbles, and Jimin doesn’t have time for protest before Jungkook’s gathering his clothes and holding them out to help him dress.

Yoongi tucks himself back into his jeans, rubbing his hands nervously on the rough material before he starts to back away. “Sorry,” he blurts. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come out.”

“Wait - ” Jimin says, but he’s already fleeing back into the shop, red down to his neck.

Jungkook still won’t look at him, cleans him up and helps him dress robotically. Jimin’s heart sinks right down to his feet. The contentment that had settled in him begins to fade as if it was never there to begin with.


“They like each other,” Jimin blurts the second Tae’s voice comes down the line, the words having sat restlessly on the tip of his tongue for hours.

“Uh, who - ”

“Yoongi. Jungkook. They like each other.”

“But aren’t they - ”

“I know, I know, but the way they were looking at other, Tae - god. They wanna fuck so bad.”

“Well, shit,” Tae mutters, sleepiness erased from his tone. “But Jungkook likes you, too, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah. And, um, so does Yoongi hyung.”

“I thought you thought he wasn’t interested.”

“I did. But he leaves me coffee every morning and he’s always so sweet when he isn’t being annoying and yesterday he said I was cute and - ” Jimin exhales in a rush. “I dunno. I think he’s holding back because of Jungkook.”

“Because Jungkook really likes you.”

Jimin bites his lip, can’t help the way his mouth twitches into a smile. “He’s sweet,” he says softly, fondly.

“Okay,” Taehyung considers. “Well which one do you like?”

The smile fades. Jimin clutches his blanket to his chest, worrying his lip between his teeth. In a tiny voice, he answers, “Both of them.”

“Oh,” Taehyung breathes. “Okay.”

“I know,” Jimin whispers. “I suck.”

“No, no, listen. If they both like you, and you like both of them, and they both like each other… then there’s really no issue, right?”

“I mean. Yeah. Except they’re never gonna admit it to each other, are they? Not if they’ve been hiding it for long. God, Tae, they’ve probably been crushing forever but holding back because they’re sort of related. Hyung probably doesn’t wanna be irresponsible, Jungkook probably thinks hyung sees him as a kid. That’s so sad .”

“You’re such a romantic,” Taehyung says, exasperated. “You gotta confront them, Jiminie. You’re the only one who’ll save them from their years of pining.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“You started it. You’re the one psychoanalyzing them. What if they’ve only liked each other for a month, huh?”

“Whatever.” Jimin huffs. “You’re right though. I should talk to them.”

“I’m always right.”

Jimin rolls his eyes, falling back into his bed. “Anyway, how’s work? Is your mom making you go in every day?”

“It’s actually not bad,” Taehyung says. His mother, like Jimin’s, has always intended for him to join the family business. Unlike Jimin, Taehyung had agreed to at least give it a try. “I think I might really like it.”

“Really?” Jimin’s surprised; Taehyung’s never had the head for business. He’s too flighty. “That’s great, Tae.”

“Yeah.” Taehyung sounds like he’s smiling. “It’s kind of nice, having some direction. I get really excited on days I go in.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Jimin says, grin splitting his cheeks. “You deserve it.”

“Thanks, Jiminie. How about you, is she still bothering you about work?”

“She’s giving me the silent treatment ever since she found out I got a job at the auto shop.” Jimin shrugs even though Taehyung can’t see it. “Seokjin hyung says there’s something brewing, but there’s nothing I can do about it for now.”

“Sucks,” Taehyung sighs. “You wanna get lunch today? We’re both off, right?”

“Sure, let’s do it. I’ll see you later then.”

Jimin hangs up, stares at his ceiling for a long moment before he rolls out of bed. He’s going to talk to them, he resolves. It’s been a long time since Jimin really liked anyone, prefers to hit it and quit it. He isn’t opposed to the idea of a relationship, it’s just that thinking about navigating one with the way his mother is feels too difficult, too complicated.

But his mother isn’t talking to him anyway, and Jimin doesn’t want to let something that could turn out to be so wonderful slip from his grasp because he’s scared.

Somehow, he’ll make this work.


Jimin doesn’t know how to cook.

He’s never actually needed to know. He has enough disposable income for takeout, and he can manage to whip up easy dinners from meal kits when he needs to. Growing up, his mother hadn’t had time to cook, so she’d hired someone to do it for her.

But Yoongi seems like the kind of guy who’d be impressed by a homemade meal, so today, Jimin’s cooking.

The Internet had said it was an easy recipe. Like a fool, Jimin had believed that. The tofu stew should be done by the time Yoongi knocks on his door for lunch, but instead Jimin’s panicking, wondering what the hell he did wrong for it to taste so flavorless.

He slides to the door and tugs it open. Yoongi’s standing there, grocery bag in one hand, the other stuffed in his pocket. He looks wary, a little uncomfortable.

“Hi,” Jimin blurts, then slides back to the kitchen, leaving the door open for Yoongi to enter.

“Are you cooking?” Yoongi says a little incredulously. Jimin leans over his stew, can hear Yoongi taking his shoes off and shuffling after him.

Jimin glances back and huffs. “Why do you sound so surprised?”

Yoongi just shakes his head. He pats the grocery bag and says, “I brought some snacks.” Then he comes around the counter and peers at the stew. “It smells good, why do you look so stressed?”

“It tastes terrible,” Jimin stage whispers, switching the stove off with a dejected sigh.

Yoongi takes the serving spoon from him to steal a sip, brow furrowed. Then he sighs, nudging Jimin out of the way so he can grab the soy sauce and red pepper bottles left by the stove. “You didn’t season enough.” He adds more soy sauce and pepper, stirs thoroughly, then offers Jimin a taste.

Jimin sips off the serving spoon, his face lighting up as soon as the taste hits him. “You saved it!” he exclaims. Of course Yoongi has to be good at cooking on top of everything else. He wonders if Jungkook can cook, too; talent seems to run in the family.

“I’m a hero,” Yoongi says dryly, carrying the pot of stew over to the trivet Jimin had set out on the counter. Jimin follows him with bowls and spoons. “So what’s going on? You said you wanted to talk about something important.”

Jimin nods, steering Yoongi toward a barstool first before settling in next to him and serving them bowlfuls of stew. He’d thought long and hard about who he should approach first, or if he should do it together. In the end, he’d settled on Yoongi. Somehow he felt like it would be better to talk to him first. “Sorry, the only side dish I have is kimchi.”

“It’s okay.” Yoongi plays with his spoon, then clears his throat. “Uh, if this is about the other night, then I’m sorry. I fucked up. Jungkook already isn’t talking to me, so - ”

“He isn’t?” Jimin says, face falling. The thought of Jungkook upset unfurls a ball of tension in his own stomach.

“He isn’t,” Yoongi confirms, the tight line of his shoulders betraying exactly how much it’s affecting him.

“It is about the other night.” Yoongi’s mouth purses into a line, and Jimin rushes to add, “But not the way you think. It’s, um, complicated.”

“What do you mean?” Yoongi looks tense. Jimin wishes they’d started eating first, at least.

Jimin isn’t the best at being direct, but looking at Yoongi now, he realizes he has to be upfront about it. No hedging around the point. “You’re in love with Jungkook.”

Yoongi stiffens immediately, spoon clattering onto the counter. He leans away from Jimin, shaking his head right away. “What the hell are you saying, he’s my brother - ”

“He isn’t your brother,” Jimin points out. “You said so yourself.”

Yoongi winces. He looks away, jaw set tightly, clenching his teeth. Jimin expected this, but it still makes him a little sad. He wonders how long Yoongi’s been keeping it locked up inside of him. And Jungkook, too.

Their closeness, the history they have together, makes Jimin wonder if he’ll ever really be able to fit in with them. If they’ll ever be able to love him the way they love each other. But last night he’d stayed up until three in the morning watching videos by people in polyamorous relationships, and he’d gathered that communication seems to be rather important. So he’s gonna talk to them about it.

Jimin had surprised himself with the intensity he’d thrown himself into his research. He doesn’t know if he’s ever wanted something this much.

“It’s okay,” Jimin says, reaching out and resting a hand on Yoongi’s arm. “I think he’s in love with you, too.”

“There’s no way,” Yoongi scoffs, bitter. He doesn’t pull his arm away, though, which Jimin takes as a good sign.

“You can’t see what I see,” Jimin murmurs. It’d made him a little jealous at first, the respect and devotion in Jungkook’s eyes when he looked at Yoongi.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi blurts.

“It’s okay,” Jimin repeats, squeezing his arm gently. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry.”

Yoongi stares at him for a long moment, the struggle clear in his gaze, and Jimin waits patiently. Then, at last, the barrier breaks. Jimin can see it physically crumble in the way Yoongi’s shoulders slump, his head bows, his lips curl down. He sighs, long and full.

“I’ve known him since we were kids,” he murmurs. “Moved into his neighborhood when I was ten. Our parents got close, so we’d see each other all the time. Feels like we’ve always been together.”

“When did his parents adopt you?”

Yoongi rubs his face with another sigh. He leans closer to Jimin, unconsciously like he’s seeking comfort. “My parents died when I was sixteen. Finished high school living with Jungkook and his family, stayed there afterward while I tried to figure out what the hell to do with my life. Ended up moving out only a few years before he did.”

Jimin rests his chin in hand, peering at him curiously. “How long have you been in love with him?”

Yoongi shifts uncomfortably. He glances at Jimin, then away. “A while,” he finally says. “He was just a kid to me for a while and then - I dunno. He wasn’t anymore.”

“I’m sorry about your parents.”

Yoongi shrugs. “‘S been a while. Jungkook’s were good to me.”

Jimin can hear it in his tone, so he asks, “But?”

Yoongi glances at him again, like he’s surprised that Jimin hears him so well. “I’m not their son, you know? Jungkook always came first.”

Jimin pats his arm sympathetically. “Yeah, I get it.” He looks troubled, maybe a little embarrassed at having revealed so much of himself, so Jimin tries to set him at ease. “If it helps, my mother doesn’t love me, either.”

Yoongi snorts, shaking his head, and the look he turns on Jimin next is one of camaraderie. “Sucks.”

“Sucks,” Jimin agrees.

“Why are you bringing this up?” Yoongi ventures. “I’d never try to make a move, you don’t have to worry - ”

“What if I want you to?” Jimin blurts, then winces, flush spreading across his cheeks. He really needs to work on thinking before he speaks. Yoongi looks confused. “I mean. Hyung, do you like me?”

Yoongi furrows his brow.

“Just. Can we just be honest today? One hundred percent honesty.”

“Jimin - ” he starts, then stops, looking away.

“Because - ” Jimin swallows. “ - because I like you. And I like Jungkookie, too. And if you like me, and you like each other, then maybe we can work something out.”

Understanding dawns, illuminating Yoongi’s expression. “Oh. You mean.”

“Yeah.”

“Jiminie, that’s - that’s a lot, you know that, right? It isn’t gonna be easy, the three of us. It’ll take work.”

“I know,” Jimin murmurs, casting his gaze down to his hands, twisting anxiously together. “We could try.”

Yoongi’s quiet. When he speaks again, it’s soft. Fond. “I like you a lot, Park Jimin.”

Jimin glances up, flushing all over again. Yoongi’s close and Jimin really wants to kiss him but there’s an unspoken understanding between them, a heaviness that tells them to wait.

“Did you talk to Jungkook yet?”

Jimin shakes his head. “I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Why?”

“I think - and I could be wrong - that you’re a little more aware of your feelings toward him than he is. So maybe it would be better if you told him yourself.”

Yoongi nods. “That makes sense.”


They’re quiet, still wrestling with the weight of their conversation. It had gone better than Jimin could have hoped, not that he’d really thought it would go badly. Somehow, he’d felt that it would work.

“Shit,” Yoongi finally mutters, his tone rather incredulous. “If we do this, we should probably stop working together.”

Jimin snorts. “Come on, hyung, we can handle it.”

Yoongi eyes him dubiously. “You think?”

“Yes,” Jimin says, cheerfulness returning to his tone. “We’re gonna make this work.”


Jimin’s in a good mood when his mother calls.

He’s packing a bag full of fried chicken and beer that he’d picked up from the shop across the street. The auto shop’s closed on Sundays, so Jimin hasn’t seen Jungkook or Yoongi since his conversation with Yoongi. But he isn’t worried, not really; somehow, he feels okay, like things are going to turn out just fine. So he’d ordered some fried chicken, and he’s going to stop by their apartment and offer to share.

His phone rings when he’s on his way to the door. He answers carelessly, “Hey, Eomma.”

“I’ve made the decision to cut you off,” she says. There’s background noise, like she’s in the middle of somewhere busy.

“What?” He pauses at the door, setting the bag of food down on the ground. “You mean - ”

“As long as you refuse to join the company, I’ll no longer financially support you.” Someone in the background says something, and she calls back an annoyed response. Even when she’s pissed, she can’t give him her full attention. “I’m freezing your accounts and cancelling your lease.”

It takes a minute to sink in. A long minute where Jimin stares at his closed apartment door, his heart thudding painfully hard in his chest and a headache forming at his temples. Then he blinks, vision swimming. “You’re gonna leave me with nothing?”

“You’re an adult,” she says coolly. “It’s about time you took care of yourself. Reconsider your stubbornness, and maybe I’ll reconsider mine.”

She hangs up.

Jimin’s arm drops, phone dangling loosely from his fingers. He’s still staring at the door, blood rushing to his ears, mouth suddenly dry. His thoughts run calculations at a mile a minute. His monthly salary isn’t enough to get by. He can maybe manage rent if he finds a rooftop room, but he’ll have to quit dance again. His car’s paid off, but he probably won’t drive it anymore so he can save on gas.

But he doesn’t know how to go about finding another place so quickly, doesn’t even know how soon they’ll want him out of his apartment. It’s all too much, too sudden. He wishes she would have given him some warning at least, but he knows she’s never been that kind. His headache is painful now, has him squinting from the pain.

There’s a knock on the door.

Jimin pulls himself from his stupor, swallowing harshly and running a hand across his face. He inhales once, then again, and tugs open the door.

Jungkook and Yoongi are standing there, shoulders brushing. They brighten at the sight of him.  Jimin glances between them, feels the weight on his heart lift, feels a little less like everything’s crashing down around him.

Jungkook’s face falls first. “Jimin hyung? Is something wrong?”

“Jungkook-ah,” Jimin says, then can’t hold it together, surging forward to hide his face in Jungkook’s chest. He shudders, tries not to cry. Jungkook’s arms wind around him, holding him close. He feels Yoongi’s hand come to stroke his hair.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Yoongi murmurs.

Jimin pulls away, rubbing away the few tears that had managed to escape from his eyes. He sniffs, backing into his apartment and gesturing for them to follow. “Come in, please.”

They shuffle in, slipping out of their shoes and setting them aside. Something about the sight of their shoes next to Jimin’s makes his heart flutter: Yoongi’s black boots, Jungkook’s Timbs, Jimin’s loafer creepers.

“I was bringing you guys chicken,” Jimin says with a watery laugh, pointing at the bags still sitting on the floor.

“Come tell us what happened,” Jungkook urges, steering him towards the living room.

Yoongi takes the couch next to Jimin, and Jungkook sits on the floor before them, arms wrapped loosely around his spread knees. They wait patiently until Jimin’s ready. He twists his hands in his lap and tells them, “My mom cut me off. She cancelled my lease, too.”

They both start with sudden emotion, Jungkook’s face melting into shock and Yoongi’s into anger. “Piece of shit,” Yoongi growls, and Jimin finds himself nodding.

“Why?” Jungkook asks. “Why the hell would she do that?”

“Because I don’t wanna join the company. She’s always been pissed about it, guess she just finally snapped.” He sighs, pressing his palms into his eyes briefly. A bit of the panic has settled; just being around them makes him feel a little more centered. “I don’t have anywhere to go,” he says quietly.

Jungkook and Yoongi exchange a glance. “You can stay with us,” Jungkook blurts.

Jimin looks between them. The no is on the tip of his tongue; there are a million reasons why that wouldn’t be the best idea, and he couldn’t burden them when they’ve already done so much by giving him a job, and -

“We talked,” Yoongi says, voice a low rumble. “About everything. Me and Jungkook.”

Jimin’s gaze becomes one of surprise. He looks between them again. They’re looking at each other, Jungkook’s eyes dark and big, Yoongi’s firm and intense. “And?”

“We wanna date,” Jungkook says. “All of us.”

Jimin’s grin splits his cheeks, so wide it hurts. All the tension evaporates, his heart bubbling with happiness. He falls into Yoongi, smiling so big it turns into a laugh, and reaches for Jungkook’s hand. “You mean it?” Jimin says, voice half muffled by Yoongi’s shoulder.

“I, uh, used to have a crush on hyung,” Jungkook mumbles, cheeks turning pink. He glances away. Jimin can almost feel the fondness radiating off Yoongi as he watches him. “Back when we were younger. But then he moved in and I shoved it away and pretended it didn’t exist.”

“I’m happy,” Jimin murmurs, “that you can finally be together.”

“Thanks to you,” Yoongi says. Jimin can feel the words vibrate through him. “If it weren’t for you, maybe none of this ever would have happened.”

Jimin smiles, soft and content. Jungkook’s fingers tighten, laced with his. “Live with us,” Jungkook says. “We can make room. You don’t have to worry about finding a place.”

“I dunno if that’s the best idea,” Jimin ventures. “We haven’t even started dating yet.”

“We can handle it,” Yoongi says, echoing Jimin’s earlier words. “We can set boundaries, talk about it. And more importantly, you need somewhere to go.”

“I think it’ll be okay,” Jungkook agrees.

“You guys have already done a lot for me,” Jimin says, frown tugging at his lips.

They both wave it off immediately. “We’ve barely done anything,” Jungkook insists, and Yoongi adds, “Don’t say it like that.”

Jimin deliberates, though he doesn’t really need to. His heart’s already made up.

“Okay,” he says, looking between them with his heart swelling in his chest, wondering how something so awful could have turned into something so very wonderful.


Jimin’s laughing.

“Stop,” he protests, waving Jungkook off. “I was making the ugliest face.”

“I know,” Jungkook responds, peering wickedly into the screen of his camera. “I caught it.”

“Hyung,” Jimin whines, curling into Yoongi’s side, “Jungkookie’s being mean.”

Yoongi shifts, sighing, pulled from the brink of sleep. They’re lying on the makeshift bed they’d set up in the living room, surrounded by blankets and pillows. Jungkook’s the only one who’d bothered putting his boxers back on when he got up to fetch his camera; Yoongi and Jimin have the blankets tossed haphazardly over their bodies. The living room is Jimin’s room now, or part of it is, sectioned off by curtains. He pitches in with rent and spends most of his time in one of their beds, anyway. It’s nothing like how he used to live, but he likes it, has made a home out of it. He’s strung fairy lights along the wall, pinned polaroids with notes underneath. The lights are all that’s on right now, casting a dim glow over them and lending a softness to the room.

“Show me the picture,” Yoongi mumbles sleepily. “I wanna laugh, too.”

“Hey!” Jimin complains, trying to disentangle himself from Yoongi. Yoongi doesn’t let him, the arm Jimin’s using as a pillow tugging him right back in.

“Hyung,” Jungkook says, and both of them glance over. He snaps a picture just as their heads turn then grins at the screen. “Cute.”

He’s recently gotten into photography since he found Yoongi’s old DSLR boxed up in his closet. Now he takes pictures of everything, but mostly he takes pictures of the two of them. Snaps them eating breakfast, sleeping, playing around. He has a collection of Jimin’s goofiest expressions, none of which Jimin will ever admit to allowing. Jimin’s always complaining that Jungkook doesn’t take enough pictures of himself, but Jimin’s made up for the lack with his polaroids.

“Come back,” Jimin says, patting the empty space next to him. “My left side is cold.”

“That’s all you care about, huh?” Jungkook sets his camera down and returns to bed, slipping under the blanket. “Using me for warmth.”

“You haven’t figured that out yet?” Yoongi drawls, eyes still closed. “Jimin’s just a big leech.”

“You guys suck,” Jimin huffs, glaring at them in turn.

“I was thinking here for the tattoo,” Jungkook says suddenly. He lifts the sheets over Jimin’s waist and presses a hand against his bare hip. “What do you think?”

“I like it,” Jimin agrees. Jungkook’s been designing a tattoo for him. Jimin had learned only recently that he was apprenticed to a tattoo artist before he decided to work with Yoongi instead; most of Yoongi’s tattoos were done by Jungkook.

“Give him a tramp stamp,” Yoongi suggests.

“Hyung!” Jimin shrieks, finally tugging away from him and pressing himself against Jungkook instead. Jungkook laughs, winding his arm around Jimin.

“And you thought I was being mean,” Jungkook says.

“You were,” Jimin insists. Jungkook just grins, running a hand down Jimin’s side. He stops at his ass and smacks it lightly. Jimin winces. “Ow,” he whines. “I just got fucked, I’m fragile.”

“So did Jungkook, he isn’t whining,” Yoongi says.

Jimin glares at him over his shoulder. “He only got fucked by one cock, I got fucked by two .”

Jungkook laughs again, rubbing his ass gently. Yoongi shifts over, peppering kisses over Jimin’s face. “I’m just teasing, sweetheart.”

They’re comfortably quiet for a little while, basking in each other’s warmth. Jimin can feel himself drifting close to sleep, slips out of his hazy doze when Yoongi speaks.

“Jungkook-ah, call Eomma back. She keeps complaining that you never talk to her.”

“Is this really the best time to talk about Eomma?” Jungkook grumbles, to which Yoongi reaches over Jimin and pinches Jungkook’s cheek.

“Call,” he insists. Jungkook catches Yoongi’s hand and kisses his knuckles.

“I’ll think about it,” he says, and Jimin can tell from his tone that he’s just trying to be contrary.

Yoongi sighs, but he leaves his hand in Jungkook’s.

“Yours try to talk to you yet?” Jungkook murmurs, nudging Jimin lightly.

A few months after cutting him off, she’d called to ask if he’d changed his mind yet. Jimin thinks she’d been hoping to find him desperate and regretful, unable to adapt to life without her money. But he was doing fine. Better, maybe, than ever before. So he’d told her that, and she’d hung up, and since then they haven’t spoken a word to each other.

Jungkook still asks every now and then, though. He isn’t like Yoongi and Jimin, doesn’t know exactly how it is to feel lonely and unloved the way they do. He still has hope that one day Jimin’s mother will come around.

And maybe she will. But Jimin has come to realize that he doesn’t care either way. He’s happy.

“No.” Jimin’s tone is easy, unbothered. “But it’s okay.”

“Fuck her.” Yoongi shifts onto his side and tugs the blanket more securely over him. “You’ve got us.”

Jimin smiles, warm on both sides, more loved than he’s ever been. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I do.”