Chapter Text
When Yoongi had been young, just shy of his first heat even, a man had come to the Min estate, looking to find a mate. He had been an older alpha, widowed, his children died in infancy, but from a renowned family and therefore eager for an heir.
Yoongi had been called by his mother and she had tutted as she did up his sash properly, fixed the ribbon at the end of his braid.
“You need to look presentable,” she had said and then pinched his cheeks to bring some color into them, but there had been an odd, far-away look in her eyes.
He remembers that about her, that air of resignation, but he also remembers his own uncertainty as he was brought out to meet the man who might become his husband.
“Come here, child,” the stranger had said, setting his tea aside where he was kneeling.
It was improper to get so close to an alpha, but Yoongi’s parents had not objected, and so Yoongi had obeyed. From so near, he could see the crow’s feet around the alpha’s eyes, the silver creeping along his temples. He must have been older than Yoongi’s father even and the thought terrified him but still, desperately, he had tried to look pleasing.
Without asking for permission, the man had put his hands on Yoongi’s waist. His fingers seemed to encompass the entire circumference of it, and Yoongi had held his breath.
“He is small,” the man had noted. His tone was critical, less of Yoongi and more toward his parents. “Not yet fully grown. Even if he could take me, I doubt he would survive giving birth.”
Yoongi hiccupped. He had known of the complications that could arise during child birth; one of his aunts had died of childbed fever.
The man had squeezed him gently and then let go, leaving Yoongi to awkwardly stand in front of him, not knowing what to do with himself.
“I want a spouse who can lead the household, not another mate to bury,” the alpha had told Yoongi’s parents. “Wait a few years to find someone worthy of him, or you’ll just be sending your son to his ruin.”
And that had been that. Yoongi’s parents had taken the admonishment in stride, still believing that they would find a son-in-law soon enough.
Yet the years passed and fewer suitors came. Yoongi never grew any prettier and, as his family’s wealth shrunk, so did his dowry. He had half been hoping that he would be allowed to remain unmated, living out his days to take care of his parents, help raise his brother’s children once he had any.
And then Kim Namjoon had come along and wrecked everything.
It has been weeks since their fight now and nothing has changed. Or rather, things have reverted to how they were before. The tentative trust that they had established between them, after Yoongi finally warmed up to his new husband and his new home, has been thoroughly shattered. And it is palpable in everything they do.
Sleeping next to each other now is even more awkward than it had been during their first wedding night. They no longer undress each other in the evening, just have their servants do it, and the few words they exchange are stilted. Namjoon brings no more gifts, initiates no discussions about their favorite poems. The jade necklace sits untouched in Yoongi’s jewelry box.
Hoseok thinks that Yoongi should not be so harsh on his mate, but Yoongi finds self-righteous strength in his own pettiness. Why should he be the one to cave if Namjoon has made no attempts of apologizing, of pleading his case?
Either Namjoon is too proud himself, in which case Yoongi will win the stand-off, or he feels guilty about the wrong he has done Yoongi. Like the woodcutter in the folktale, he may have realized his folly and his crime.
Unfortunately, however, Yoongi starts to think that he himself may resemble the fairy as well.
Because did she not happily bear her husband’s children? Did she not live with him for years and enjoy his presence? Even when he gave her back her wings and she returned to the heavens, did she not cry tears of happiness when he found her again?
Yoongi feels none of that devotion and yet he cannot help but miss Namjoon’s attention. He does not lack for entertainment, keeps himself distracted by other means, but still there are moments when he has to remind himself of why he cannot forgive so easily.
Namjoon seems to understand that much, simply accepts how taciturn Yoongi has grown once more. If he had hoped Yoong’s ire to be only a fleeting mood that would pass upon the morrow, he does not show it. It speaks of respect, maybe, of empathy or at least awareness.
But what is his kindness worth if Yoongi is only a commodity to him?
The other omegas of the Kim family have not said anything on the matter, though Yoongi suspects that Namjoon specifically told them not to get involved. So Seokjin had only given a loud huff and shaken his head, while Taehyung and Jimin first seemed worried and unsure but then quickly tried to lift Yoongi’s spirits.
Yoongi had welcomed it, was grateful they didn’t attempt to sway him. They had so easily accepted him into their midst, but he still would not have been surprised if they chose to favor their brother in this matter.
But perhaps they understand the conundrum, as only omegas can. Even if Seokjin had avoided marriage, if Jimin is less likely to have suitors due to his illegitimate birth – they still know what awaits Taehyung.
Because, one day, Taehyung will be given to an alpha and sent away to live somewhere else, much like Yoongi had been.
Yoongi is strolling through the inner yard, rucking up his robes to avoid the dirt from the chickens. He’s been looking for his dog for a while now but hasn’t been able to find him. He’s probably asleep somewhere but it has been a long day and Yoongi is feeling lonely.
The yard is mostly empty, the bustle of the day died down. The workers who do not live on the estate have left for the day while everyone else is in the kitchen, getting dinner ready. Yoongi would have to join the family soon to take his meal, but he thinks he has a little more time.
He had checked in the chicken coop and underneath the porch, went by Seokjin’s workshop and the storage rooms. He’d search in the gardens last, if all else failed, but for now he is steering toward the stables.
The door is slightly ajar, wide enough that Yoongi can squeeze in without trouble. The hinges creak quietly, and his eyes take a moment to adjust to the half-dark inside. Dust is dancing in the air, tickling his nose.
He opens his mouth to call his dog’s name, when his ears pick out an odd sound. It’s not the soft snorting and scraping of horses, nor their hooves thumping against the ground, but the rustle of cloth instead.
Yoongi frowns, ventures further inside. There is an empty bay where the sounds seem to be coming from and Yoongi cranes his neck to peer into it as he gets closer.
He freezes.
“Taehyung?” he says, more out of reflex than anything else, blinking at the scene in front of him.
Because there are Taehyung and Jungkook, in a tight embrace, lying in the straw. Jungkook’s torso is bare, his hanbok spread out underneath them, and he is braced above Taehyung, mouthing along his neck.
Taehyung’s robes hang loosely, his sash almost undone, dust clinging to his lashes as he lets Jungkook touch him so brazenly, so intimately.
Upon hearing Yoongi’s voice, however, they both jump apart.
Jungkook is breathing heavily, his eyes wide and panicked, jumping from Yoongi to Taehyung and back again, obviously not sure what to do now that they have been caught in the act.
Taehyung, on the other hand, seems somewhat more sedate, perhaps realizing that there is no talking himself out of this. He re-ties his garments, brushes a stray strand of hair behind his ear. Then he stands up.
Jungkook follows his example, scrambles for his hanbok, quickly pulls it on. Yoongi eyes him critically.
“Leave,” he orders, curt and cold. Jungkook looks alarmed, throws a worried look at Taehyung, but he cannot disobey a yangban’s order, omega though Yoongi may be.
Carefully, without touching either of them, he squeezes out of the bay and makes for the door. The hinges creak again, this time much more loudly. His footsteps fade in the distance.
Once they are alone, Yoongi takes a deep breath, centering himself. He has not known Taehyung for long, but he feels responsible for the boy. And it does not matter how much Taehyung and Jungkook love each other – if word got out of what had happened here, both of them might face severe punishments.
“Taehyung,” Yoongi says, keeping his hands folded to stop them from shaking. Soon, someone would come looking for them if they didn’t show up for dinner, so this will have to be quick. “Do you know what would have happened if someone else had found you like this? Do you want to see Jungkook whipped for laying hands on you?"
For a moment, Taehyung’s lower lip wobbles, as though the mere idea of that truly upsets him so much he might cry. Then he reins himself in.
“I trust you won’t tell anyone,” he says instead, a demand instead of a request. He’s probably long since figured out that Yoongi has a soft spot for him and Jimin, little brothers that he’s never truly had.
“I won’t,” Yoongi promises. “Because I do not wish to see you hurt. But don’t you see that you are hurting yourself already?”
He has suspected that the love between Taehyung and Jungkook has passed the threshold of shy glances and fleeting touches. He just hadn’t expected Taehyung to be so unconcerned about the risk he is putting both off them in.
“You have to give up on him,” Yoongi tells him. “Don’t waste yourself on a daydream, when you’ll be betrothed sooner or later.”
At these words, instead of intimidated or at least chastised, Taehyung only looks spiteful, his shoulders hunched up, his jaw set with determination.
“It does not matter,” he says darkly, turning his face away. “It is too late anyway, so you need not get involved.”
“Too late?” Yoongi echoes and then his eyes widen in brutal realization, pulse quickening in sudden panic.
“You let him have you?” he asks, scandalized. “You idiot boy! Do you know what that means?”
If Taehyung has been with Jungkook, it means that he is damaged goods. It means that no respectable alpha will want him. It means that, once he is found out, Taehyung will be quietly sold off to whoever might take him, to avoid a scandal.
“I told you, it does not matter,” Taehyung repeats. He’s got his fists clenched and his eyes narrowed, like he has had this fight before and won. “Jungkookie and I are already mates. All we are missing is the bite, and then I will be his completely. That’s why Joon-hyung-“
He cuts himself off, directs his glare toward a corner, as though he had said too much. Suspicion unfurls in Yoongi’s stomach like a snake.
“That’s why he what?” he demands because, if it involves his mate, he has a right to know. Suddenly, this is about more than just Taehyung being mad with love.
Taehyung’s chest lifts with a breath. When he exhales again, he seems deflated.
“That’s why Joon-hyung told our father he would marry whoever was chosen for him,” he says, and his voice is quiet now, guilty, like a child admitting to having done something wrong. “In exchange for me being allowed to marry for love.”
Yoongi stares.
“What are you saying?” he asks. “Namjoon knows?”
“All my hyungs know,” Taehyung says. His gaze darts up to meet Yoongi’s. “They’ve always known I loved Jungkook. And, in spring, when my heat was suddenly upon me…”
He trails off, sounding vaguely abashed for the first time, but Yoongi can easily fill in the blanks. Taehyung had gone into heat, and he and Jungkook had been driven by their instincts. There was no blame in that, except for the fact that tragedies like these are the reasons why omegas are not to be left alone with strange alphas.
And still, so little of it makes sense. If Yoongi’s older brother had found out that Yoongi had lost his virginity in such a careless manner, he would not have hesitated to tell their parents. He would have berated Yoongi for disgracing their family, and he would have been right to do so.
But Namjoon, when Taehyung trusted him with this, only sought to protect him.
“He married me so you could be with Jungkook?” he says, more to himself, really, trying to make sense of it.
Taehyung, however, just nods.
“It was the only solution he could think of,” he reveals. “And I… I wouldn’t have wanted to stop him.”
It was selfish of him to want to be with Jungkook so badly that he would accept his brother’s offer so easily. But Yoongi cannot blame him wanting to marry for love.
And just like that, all the questions Yoongi has been asking himself during the past days have been answered.
Why Namjoon had been so patient with him and never possessive. Why he moved around Yoongi like he was just as unsure of his role in this marriage. Why he looked like he wanted to defend himself from Yoongi’s accusations but then didn’t, because he couldn’t very well give away Taehyung’s secret in front of the servants.
Taehyung seems to suspect what Yoongi might be thinking about.
“You’ve been angry with him,” he says. “I felt responsible for it, but he told me not to talk to you. He said he deserves your defiance.”
Yoongi swallows, lifts his head.
“You will not tell him that I know,” he instructs Taehyung. “I wish to question him myself.”
“The answer won’t change,” Taehyung knows. “You are here because I made a mistake and hyung made a decision.”
“You’re young still,” Yoongi says. “The world is not so easily divided into one thing or the other. I wish to hear his reasons, in his own words.”
Taehyung nods, maybe even understands.
“You will not tell anyone?” he asks, nervously, and it takes Yoongi a moment to realize that he is talking about Jungkook again and the newly revealed severity of their secret.
“Who would I tell?” he asks. “Your parents, to see you disgraced in their eyes? Do you think me so vindictive?”
Taehyung shuffles on the spot, looks uncomfortable.
“Chimchim and Jin-hyung say I underestimate your upbringing,” he admits. “They say chastity and obedience are the highest values for an omega like you.”
“They are valued by my class,” Yoongi corrects. “Not by me.”
He turns away, toward the stable door.
“Come,” he says, folding his hands in front of him. “Dinner will be served soon.”
He does not act different throughout dinner, just sits by Namjoon’s side without looking at him, as he has done during the past days. Namjoon himself is quiet, doesn’t converse beyond what is necessary.
By now, everyone must have noticed the tension between the two of them, but no one has commented on it, not even Namjoon’s parents. It’s a matter of propriety. The private is not dragged into the light of day in such a crude manner, and Yoongi is grateful for it. It gives him time to let his thoughts rearrange themselves, to decide on what to do now.
He still feels reluctant, but he does not doubt Taehyung’s story. And he cannot help but feel some admiration at Namjoon’s selfless sacrifice. It is certainly a better option than Namjoon having married him solely for his blood.
After the meal, they return to their quarters.
“You may leave,” Yoongi tells Hoseok and the other servant that had accompanied them.
Both Hoseok and Namjoon look at him in surprise. Hoseok lifts his eyebrows in a meaningful way but then lets himself be ushered out of the room, closing the door behind them. Namjoon, however, looks a little more on edge.
Yoongi tries to appear calm as he steps closer, lifts his hands.
“Let me help you,” he says, a peace offering, and then begins to undo Namjoon’s robes. It is the first time he has done this since their fight and Namjoon seems to be holding his breath in anticipation.
Yoongi decides that there is no use in stalling.
“I found Taehyung today,” he says, almost conversationally. “In the stables, together with Jungkook.”
Namjoon tenses, shoulders square. He obviously had not expected this, but Yoongi just plows on.
“I talked to Taehyung. He revealed some truths that showed me I had erred in my perception of you.”
Marginally, Namjoon relaxes.
“This is not how I had meant for you to find out,” he sighs.
Yoongi tilts his head back, looks at him. “Had you meant for me to find out at all?”
“One day.” Namjoon shrugs. “I meant to tell you once I had fully gained your trust. Instead, I lost it. Anything I could have said in my defense would have seemed like a poor excuse.”
“True.” Yoongi has stepped away again, Namjoon’s hanbok cradled in his arms. He sets it aside, gets to working on the second layer. He is prideful and not good with words, but he endeavors to try anyway. “Still, I would like to apologize for misjudging you.”
“It was no fault of yours,” Namjoon says. “I understand that, from what little you knew, there could only be one explanation.”
Yoongi thinks he should have given him the benefit of the doubt. Namjoon is bound by rules as much as he is, if in different ways. With how kindly Namjoon had treated him, he should not have assumed that his husband only wanted an omega as an eager bedmate.
Yoongi chuckles without humor.
“You probably wish your father would have picked someone else for you,” he says. “Or that your brother had not been so foolish.”
At those words, Namjoon frowns. He is only in his undergarments now, but he makes no move to touch Yoongi.
“I know you might not believe me in this,” he says. “But I don’t regret it. None of it.”
Yoongi bites the inside of his cheek, steps close enough that it is an invitation for Namjoon to undress him. Namjoon hesitates, but then reaches out for him. His hands are careful as they untie Yoongi’s elaborate sash.
“Is this also why you did not want to wait for my heat for us to be wed?” Yoongi wonders aloud. “In case Jungkook had gotten Taehyung with child?”
“In part,” Namjoon admits. “We had no time to waste. But… I also did not want our first meeting to be when you were incoherent with the fever. I wanted to see you as you were.”
“And how was I?” Yoongi asks, even though he knows he must have seemed like a brat.
Slowly, Namjoon slides the outer robe off him, lets it fall to the floor.
“Proud,” he says, quietly. “Headstrong and willful, underneath all that silk. Like a pet tiger, never fully tamed. A little hungry for blood.”
Yoongi swallows, holds still until he is in his undergarments as well, both of them dressed in white, absolved of their misgivings.
“Were you scared of me?” he asks.
“Petrified,” Namjoon says. “When I came to your room and you first looked at me, I wanted to flee.”
“But you didn’t.”
“My promise to Tae kept me. And my own shortcomings as a man.” Namjoon seems abashed. “You were all but naked in that sokjeoksam; I did not lie when I said you were beautiful.”
It is a compromise Yoongi had hoped for. A mate who does not wish to own him, who can desire but still respect him. Still, for some reason, it now feels as though they are both caught in this marriage, bound to be unhappy.
Namjoon has walked over to their bed, bending down to pick up the book of folktales that Yoongi had left lying on his side. He flips through it, stalls at a certain page.
“Did you read The Tale of the Two Stars yet?” he asks. “My nursemaid said that, the first time I heard it as I child, I would not stop crying at the unfairness of it all.”
Yoongi has read it. He has read of the farmer and the weaver who fall in love the moment they meet, who are so enamored with each other that they forget to feed their cattle and forget to weave their cloth. Finally, in divine punishment, they are turned into stars, doomed to only meet once a year, and even then the distance between them is so great they cannot touch.
“Can you understand,” Namjoon asks, when he sees him nod, “Why I made my decision?”
Yoongi purses his lips. “You gave up your own freedom for Taehyung.”
A small huff of air, Namjoon closing the book again, weighing it in his hand. “I am not unfree, Yoongi.”
“Your happiness, then,” Yoongi amends. “You could have married someone else.”
“And would that have made me happier?”
“Perhaps. Do not insult me by saying I have brought you much joy.”
Namjoon sets the book aside, takes a step closer.
“If ever I was unhappy,” he says, “It was only because I could tell that you were. You are held here against your will, you were given a mate you did not want.”
“My parents have been trying to find an alpha for me since I was a boy,” Yoongi points out. “Had it not been you, it would have been someone else. And I am grateful it was you.”
At that, Namjoon’s head dips down, a rueful smile on his face.
“Is that what I am to you?” he asks. “The lesser evil?”
“It’s what I expected you to be,” Yoongi admits. “All I wanted was for you to throw me down and violate me, so I could have a reason to hate you.”
“And do you?” Namjoon wants to know. “Hate me?”
“I hate only the circumstances under which we met,” Yoongi tells him. “I would have liked to be your friend first.”
“Is it too late for that?”
“I want it not to be,” Yoongi says.
He holds out his hands, waits for Namjoon to take them. Namjoon, however, does not stop there but leans in to press a kiss to Yoongi’s temple. It is a chaste kind of touch, followed by a shy smile of understanding shared between the two of them. Perhaps, this is what they had needed all along.
For the first time, they are on the same page.
The first thing Jimin does when he sees Yoongi is beam.
“Ah,” he says, looking rather pleased. “You and hyung made up.”
For a moment, Yoongi is startled. Taehyung surely must have told Jimin that his secret was out and that Yoongi had been planning to confront Namjoon. But that alone was not a certainty that the differences between them had been set aside.
Then Yoongi remembers something else.
A little self-consciously, his hand comes up to touch the jade pendant around his neck. He had put it on this morning, as a show of goodwill. Harmony, the vendor had claimed, would be bestowed upon the wearer. When Namjoon had noticed, he had ducked his head and smiled.
“Yes…” Yoongi says, carefully arranging the trailing hem of his robes as he sits down.
Jimin had been practicing his dance steps, but now he sets aside his fan and settles down next to Yoongi, an obvious invitation to talk.
Yoongi ponders.
“You knew,” he says eventually. “About Taehyung and Jungkook.”
“Of course.” Jimin gives a small nod. “We all did. Jinnie-hyung tried to talk Joonie-hyung out of it. Said Taetae is old enough to take responsibilities for his actions. I am not sure how our father would have reacted, but he is not blind to how smitten Tae has always been with Jungkook. When Joon-hyung came to him, I think appa knew right away that it was about Tae being allowed to be with Kookie.”
“Namjoon sold himself,” Yoongi says.
“He does not see it that way.” Jimin smiles, though it seems somewhat pained. “To him, he only set Taehyung free and made the world a little happier.”
“He is a good man,” Yoongi muses, something he had not believed only a few months ago.
“He is,” Jimin agrees. “Far better than anyone deserves.”
It’s an obvious dig, but a mild one. Yoongi is well aware of his own faults in the way he has treated Namjoon from the beginning, without giving him a chance to prove himself.
“What about you?” he asks instead. “Will you find a mate?”
“Hmm, maybe,” Jimin muses, tilting back his head to stare up at the ceiling. “I like how things are as they are now. I am an illegitimate child and not worth much. Now that Taetae will officially mate Kook, I reckon father might consider bestowing me the dowry that was intended for him. Perhaps I’ll have suitors then and perhaps I’ll like one of them. But I’d rather stay with Tae, help him raise his children. That’s what we promised each other when we were little.”
Yoongi inclines his head, remembers his own daydreams when he was younger.
“I had always hoped to have the same,” he confesses. “To stay with my parents and my brother. I never knew anything else and being sent away by them seemed like the cruelest fate.”
From the side, Jimin contemplates him.
“You never wanted children of your own?” he asks at length, keeping his tone gentle, probably knowing that it might be a sensitive subject.
Yoongi lets out a measured breath.
“I wanted no children if it meant damning them to the same life that I have grown up to expect,” he explains, though it is difficult to talk around the lump in his throat.
He had thought about it, often, how he might be married to a man who might rape him, as was his right, only for Yoongi to give birth to a daughter or an omega son who might in turn be sold to the highest bidder and have to endure the same.
Perhaps, Jimin understands.
“And now?” he asks kindly, reaching out to touch his fingers to the back of Yoongi’s hand.
Yoongi opens his eyes. He hadn’t even realized that he had closed them.
“I think,” he says, “That any child born into this family must be lucky indeed.”
“We are,” Jimin promises, squeezing his hand. “We are.”
"Oh, you and hyung made up" by junesona
Now that Yoongi is in on the secret, watching Taehyung interact with Jungkook is no longer an act of chaperoning, but of curiosity. He still does not understand it fully, that they could be so young yet so certain of each other, but he dearly wishes to.
He sees the careful yet familiar way they talk to each other, the teasing but never biting tone, the little touches of reassurance. Jungkook does not scent Taehyung, not overtly, because that would draw attention. But Taehyung sometimes drags his wrists and fingers over Jungkook’s neck, as though to treat himself to some of the alpha’s scent, to subtly mark him as his own.
Jungkook’s family seems to understand that Taehyung is an unconventional and overly affectionate omega, but Yoongi wonders whether they suspect the true relationship between the two. Will they be surprised when their youngest comes to tell him that he will wed a chungin omega from the richest family in town?
Envious tongues might say that Jungkook had tricked Taehyung into this arrangement. After all, that is the most obvious conclusion to draw. By taking Taehyung in his heat and being promised his hand in marriage, Jungkook had secured himself an omega, an elevation in standing, and a small fortune to inherit.
But, if one were to see how starstruck Jungkook seems whenever he looks at Taehyung, then no one would be able to doubt their love.
Slowly, Yoongi begins to understand that a happy mating bond is not impossible. And he has heard Taehyung’s side, but he cannot help but wish to hear Jungkook’s.
“We have not had chance to talk,” Yoongi notes, when the opportunity arises. He means the unfortunate encounter at the stables, of course, and Jungkook ducks his head, embarrassed.
“I know we seem irresponsible in your eyes,” he acknowledges. “But I cannot even explain how difficult it is for us to be apart. Especially… especially right after, when I thought we might have made a child. All I wanted was to be with him, scent him, claim him. And even now, each day I do not see him is agony.”
Yoongi bites his tongue, wonders whether what Jungkook describes is a common urge in an alpha who did not get to bite or whether that is a thing wholly unique to their affair.
“Taehyung has said before that he would expect to bite his alpha in turn,” he says, carefully gauging Jungkook’s reaction.
Yet the boy only nods. “We’ve talked about it before. It’s not as common among chungin or sangmin either but, for us, it is easier to find matches that are not entirely about financial security.”
Yoongi doesn’t point out these matches still only happen within the respective classes, not between them. Jungkook must know this himself anyway.
“You’d let an omega bite you?” he asks instead, trying to find hints of hesitance on Jungkook’s face. And the boy is silent for a while but only because he seems to be contemplating his answer.
“No,” he says at last. “It’s not about him being an omega and me an alpha, or anything like that. It’s about Taehyung. I’ll let Taehyung bite me. And I shall be happy to be his mate.”
Reassured, Yoongi gives him a smile.
“Then I shall be happy to have you as my brother-in-law,” he says and means it.
Step by step, Yoongi and Namjoon reestablish the tranquility that had briefly existed between them before. Their marriage does not so much heal like a broken bone but rather grows from a seed in the earth after a long stretch of winter.
When time allows it, they read together, new stories and favorite poems. Each day, they sit a little closer, share a bowl of fruit between them, accidentally brush hands when they are too absorbed in their books. Yoongi begins to read of trade and finance, hoping to show his interest in his husband’s business. He has always been good with numbers, but it has never been much use to him before. Now, he feels like that could change.
As the mate of a merchant, he is given responsibilities and opportunities beyond what he could have expected had he married an alpha of noble blood. He’s not quite there yet but, one day, he might be.
Slowly, the others begin to feel like family instead of strangers, something he cannot well articulate, but Hoseok at least seems to understand, encourages him to nurture these fledgling friendships.
They all share an interest in music and they indulge in it whenever they have some time to spare.
Usually, Yoongi plays the gayageum and Namjoon the daegum. Hoseok joins on his danso, Seokjin on his bipa. When Jimin and Taehyung are not playing themselves, they are dancing, perfectly synchronized after years of practice. Even Jungkook is there sometimes, singing along to the familiar tunes of whatever folk songs they are performing.
As the trust between them grows, Yoongi begins to share his own compositions with Namjoon. Before long, they are writing music together.
“You have real talent,” Namjoon observes after one such evening. “To be so gifted with many different instruments.”
“It’s only because I forced myself to learn,” Yoongi reveals, a little cynical. He has been showing more of his true self lately and, so far, Namjoon has not been averse to it. “When I was younger, I imagined running away from home. Dreamed of becoming a famous musician.”
“What stopped you?” Namjoon asks and Yoongi chuckles dryly.
“I would have been more likely to end a harlot.”
“Do not underestimate yourself,” Namjoon tells him. “You are wily.”
“Wily,” Yoongi repeats, narrowing his eyes. “What gave you that idea?”
“Hyung says that, so far, you have cheated at every game the two of you have played together.”
“He’s only petty because he tries to cheat as well but is much more obvious about it,” Yoongi huffs, turning toward Namjoon to help him out of his clothes. By now, his hands are so used to this self-appointed duty, that he can do it in moments and with his eyes closed to boot. But he still chooses to take his time with it, a patient way of wishing each other goodnight.
Something, though, is still missing.
Yoongi knows that they smell of each other, because they live together and share a bed. But, lately, he has found himself wishing for something more intimate. More deliberate.
When Namjoon has undressed him as well and they are both in their sokgot, Yoongi hooks his fingers in his collar, tugging him a little closer.
“What do you want?” Namjoon asks. His voice sounds somewhat rough, as though he is holding himself back. As though he knows what Yoongi is asking for.
Yoongi opens his mouth but does not know how to articulate his wish.
How does he tell Namjoon that it is within an omega’s instincts to be thoroughly scented but that, the last time they did it, it was months ago during his heat? That, when he was still a child, Hoseok and his nursemaid had scented him but, as he grew older, it became improper for him to smell of anyone but family? That, even when his parents scented him, it was a perfunctory and awkward practice at best?
How does Yoongi confess that he wants to be touched?
“I am your omega,” he says instead. “I ought to carry your scent.”
“You bear my mark,” Namjoon reminds him, and Yoongi knows that he is being teased. “Is that not enough?”
“It’s not,” Yoongi admits. He stands on his tiptoes, places his hands on Namjoon’s shoulders so he can lean in more comfortably. He feels almost timid in the way he presses his nose against Namjoon’s neck, inhaling quietly.
Namjoon’s arm sneaks around his waist, pulling him closer.
The way they scent each other is tentative. It’s not quite comfortable; there is too much tension sitting beneath the surface and they are still too unfamiliar with each other’s skin. But it’s good. It’s good and Yoongi can feel a tight knot come undone in his chest the longer they stand like this and touch, spreading their scents on each other, just breathing.
Finally, when they pull back a little, when Namjoon looks at him and his gaze is so open and so hopeful, Yoongi thinks he understands.
Soon, it turns out that closeness and friendship bring about their own set of risks.
Yoongi doesn’t notice at first, too absorbed in making sure his bond with Namjoon morphs from just tolerance to acceptance. To affection. He does not, however, consider how that may look from the outside.
“So,” Jimin says, after the omegas of the house have taken their tea and then dispersed again, leaving Yoongi with his brothers-in-law. “Tell us everything.”
Yoongi looks at him without understanding, wondering what he might be talking about, but nothing comes to mind.
“You finally smell of hyung,” Taehyung clarifies, in a rather enthusiastic tone. “Everybody could tell!”
Immediately, Yoongi feels his face grow hot, turns away so the two will not notice. Of course they do anyway.
“I do not believe that that concerns you,” he says, fighting to keep his tone even instead of letting the embarrassment shine through.
But Jimin and Taehyung are not as easily deterred.
On his knees, Jimin scoots closer, sidles up with Yoongi. During their first meeting Yoongi never would have guessed it, but he has long since realized that Jimin can be a true menace.
Now, a devilish glint in his eyes, Jimin leans in to whisper into Yoongi’s ear.
“Taetae says Jungkook is a good lover. Eager,” he confides. “What about Joon-hyung?”
Yoongi’s mouth falls open, appalled.
“You would want to know that about your brother?” he asks. If he had thought to hide his embarrassment before, he now knows it’s impossible. Because he realizes that him finally carrying Namjoon’s scent seems to have made everyone think that there is more to their new-found intimacy.
“We have to make sure he is taking good care of you, hyung,” Jimin simpers, with Taehyung furiously nodding his head in agreement.
Yoongi turns up his nose, composes himself. His cheeks still feel very warm.
“He is… considerate,” he allows. “Courteous. From what I remember of my heat, at least.”
“No no,” Taehyung shakes his head. “Being taken during heat always feels amazing. What about outside of it?”
Yoongi narrows his eyes, wonders just how much Taehyung and Jungkook have done together, decides that he is better off not knowing.
“Well.” He folds his hands, stalling. “During our wedding nights, he made sure to pleasure me as well.”
For a long moment, the other two just look at him.
“Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin says slowly, almost as though in worry. “Have you not lain with each other since your heat?”
Yoongi purses his lips, stares back.
Taehyung’s mouth falls open.
“But you are mates!” he insists. “I thought you made up!”
His eyes are wide, comically so.
“Is he a bad lover?” he wants to know. “A bad kisser? To be honest, I’ve always suspected hyung might be awkward about it. He is awkward about most things.”
“Tae, be quiet,” Jimin shushes him, before he turns back to Yoongi, looking intent. “Did he hurt you? Accidentally?”
“No,” Yoongi says decisively. Apart from the initial discomfort during their wedding night, which only nature could be blamed for, Namjoon had been nothing but careful with him.
Jimin’s eyes narrow, thoughtful.
“Do you want him to touch you?” he prompts, and Yoongi resists the urge to squirm.
“I… I am ready to fulfill my duties as his mate,” he hedges.
“That’s not what I asked,” Jimin points out. “Everyone yacks on about marital duties, but no one ever tells you how good it can feel, even without the fever.”
Yoongi sends him a skeptical look.
“What would you know about it?” he demands. “You don’t have an alpha.”
Jimin, however, just smiles.
“There are many ways to enjoy oneself, and the stable boys are always eager,” he explains. “When they use their mouths-“
“Their mouths!” Yoongi repeats, scandalized. Perhaps he is even more sheltered than he had thought. After the shocking reveal of Taehyung’s relationship with Jungkook, he had not expected Jimin to be an even worse example of omega chastity.
“How is it that you are the only one of us who is actually mated and married, but you are also the one who acts like a maiden?”
Yoongi looks away.
“Namjoon has not made any moves toward me since my heat,” he reveals, and it stings a little. For so long, he had been convinced that he had primarily been bought as a bedmate. Now that he knows better, he has started to question whether his husband still has any interest in him at all.
Jimin just sighs loudly.
“That’s because he respects you, hyung,” he explains. “He doesn’t want you to just do your ‘duty’ – he wants you to enjoy it.”
“And he’ll probably never touch if you don’t give him outright permission,” Taehyung adds with a vehement nod.
“I cannot just tell him!” Yoongi counters, feeling ashamed just thinking of how to express such a desire. Merely asking Namjoon to scent him had taken a lot out of him.
“Then you have to seduce him,” Taehyung says.
“Seduce-?”
“When you scent him next, you have to do it well. Touch him a lot, not just his hands, but everywhere. Kiss him. Show him that you like it. That you like him. You do like him, right?”
“I am glad that I am his mate,” Yoongi says quietly.
“Then, doesn’t he deserve to know that?” Jimin prods gently, watching as Yoongi fidgets and plucks at his sleeves.
“I- I’ll think about it,” he promises, and they finally let it go.
Pleasure is not an easy thing for Yoongi.
He had been the first omega in his family for two generations, and no one quite knew what to do with him once his first heat struck. His mother had only told him to do what he must, as long as it did not pierce his maidenhead and therefore make him worthless. He hadn’t understood it then but, hours later, as he was locked away in his room and desperately trying to get some relief, he did.
So he stroked his cock until he felt sore, gathered up some of the slick to push his fingers into his ass instead, a poor imitation of what his body was yearning for.
He was young then, but well aware that this was his nature’s way of calling for an alpha, but he learned that there was also a fraction of the pleasure to be head even outside of his heat, and so he would touch himself late at night, bringing himself to a swift yet ultimately unsatisfying climax. There was a brief relief but always entwined with that feeling of shame since his body was only meant for his future mate to derive pleasure from.
Now, Yoongi rarely has the privacy to even do that much.
He wonders what were to happen if he started touching himself with Namjoon lying next to him at night. Or, if he were to reach over and undress him instead, make his intentions clear. It’d be a bold move and, whenever he thinks of it, he feels his cheeks burn.
An omega’s pleasure is unimportant, he reminds himself. In fact, a proper omega should experience no pleasure at all when they are bedded. An omega who seeks pleasure is no different from a whore.
And yet, and Namjoon not made sure to make him climax during their their wedding nights? Was that not proof enough that he wished for Yoongi to enjoy their coupling as well? And, during Yoongi’s heat, had given Yoongi exactly was he needed, not just a vigorous fucking, but tender care and affection in equal measure?
So Yoongi, tentatively, tries to follow Taehyung and Jimin’s advice.
Throughout the day, he moves with graceful precision, exposes his upturned wrist and glances at Namjoon to see whether he is looking. In the evening, he takes off Namjoon’s clothes much more slowly than necessary, brushes his fingers across his chest in a kind of searching question. At night, he rubs his thighs together in an effort to create friction and therefore slick, hoping that Namjoon will be enticed by the smell.
Namjoon, though he does not seem oblivious, also never makes the next move, as though perhaps the first one Yoongi had taken were too small. Yoongi grows restless with the anticipation of it, annoyed even, each time they scent each other utter torture as he hopes for it to grow into something a little more ardent.
And, finally, the dam breaks.
It’s turning into fall. The leaves change their colors, the air and earth their smell.
One day, Namjoon gets ready for his habitual morning walk in the gardens, quietly slipping outside. Yoongi blinks awake, looks after him, sits up.
It doesn’t take long for him to slip on his shoes and Namjoon’s discarded hanbok from the day before. When he makes his way outside, the air is crisp and cold, biting along his exposed skin. The sky is in tender hues of blue and lavender, like the silks floating in water of the dyeing beds Namjoon had shown him last month.
The pebbles crunch underneath his feet as he hurries to catch up with Namjoon’s longer strides. Namjoon himself seems absorbed in his own little word, does not hear Yoongi approach. He crouches down to take a closer look at a spider’s web caught between the twigs of a gooseberry shrub.
Dewdrops glisten on the fragile threads, like precious gemstones. Namjoon blows out a gentle breath to make them quiver, seems to delight in their little dance.
When Yoongi stands right at his shoulder, he looks up and smiles. He doesn’t say anything, just seems happy that Yoongi has decided to keep him company.
Morning walk through the gardens by junesona
They need no words as they walk alongside each other down the path, but Yoongi’s thoughts are spinning and leaving him dizzy.
There is a copse of trees, still clad in their fading leaves. On a whim, Yoongi strays from the footpath, walks toward the grove. He doesn’t need to look back to know that Namjoon follows him without question.
The grass beneath their soles is damp, whispers against their ankles. Yoongi takes a breath as he reaches the treeline and everything goes a little darker again.
“What are we doing here?” Namjoon asks. His voice is hushed, not in secrecy but in the sanctity of the moment. Yoongi thinks he should have done this a long time ago.
He reaches out toward Namjoon, pulls him closer by the wrist. Namjoon comes willingly, comes to stand merely a hand’s breadth away. Maybe he suspects. Maybe he hopes.
“I was never taught the words for this,” Yoongi confides, resting his palm upon Namjoon’s chest. “For passion.”
“There needn’t be any words,” Namjoon returns. His hand comes up to cover Yoongi’s, interlacing their fingers. “Sometimes, I look might suffice. A touch.”
“Then touch me,” Yoongi invites.
The cool air prickles along Yoongi’s skin, but Namjoon’s hands are large and warm. Namjoon gently pushes him up against one of the trees. The bark of it is blackened with dew, the moisture seeping through the back of the hanbok. Yoongi ignores it in favor of tilting back his head to kiss Namjoon.
It’s a complicated affair, standing up and out in the cold like this. They fight with their garments, reach inside. Yoongi’s clumsy fingers close around Namjoon’s growing erection, adjusting to the unfamiliar angle. He gives an experimental stroke, listens for a hitch in Namjoon’s breath, continues.
Namjoon is not idle, presses his long fingers into Yoongi, coaxes him until he grows wet and eager, until Yoongi feels too impatient to wait much longer.
He rests his weight more heavily against the tree trunk, throws his arms around Namjoon’s neck, his leg over his hip, and then he lets Namjoon push inside of him. Yoongi’s back arches with it, and he comes to stand on his tiptoes, clenching around Namjoon.
They rut against each other with little finesse. But it has been long since they touched each other, and Yoongi quickly finds himself growing desperate. He hooks his chin over Namjoon’s shoulder, pulls him closer, licks and sucks at his neck, tasting the sweat there.
Namjoon’s thrusts become stronger, lifting Yoongi up a little which each time he fucks into him, and Yoongi finds it more and more difficult to keep quiet, small moans forced out of him each time. If someone were to walk past, they would surely be heard, but Yoongi does not care.
Finally, the pressure breaks. Yoongi sucks a in large mouthful of breath, tenses in Namjoon’s hold, and comes messily between them, quietly whining.
With a burst of strength, Namjoon hoists him up against the tree, continues thrusting into him, breathing loudly, teeth rough against the shell of Yoongi’s ear. Like claws, his fingernails dig into the soft underside of Yoongi’s thighs, and then he is spilling inside of him.
For another moment, his hips jerk erratically. Then he stills again, lets Yoongi slide down, pulls out of him.
Yoongi’s knees are weak; he struggles to keep himself upright. Between his legs, Namjoon’s seed is dripping out of him, coating his skin. It feels terribly indecent and inexplicably wonderful.
They stand in each other’s space, waiting for their breath to calm down. Namjoon’s lips drag across Yoongi’s, plush and dry. Unbidden, Yoongi finds himself thinking of what Jimin had said. He wonders what it would be like if Namjoon were to use his mouth on him. Perhaps they can explore that another time.
“It’s cold,” Namjoon notes, running a palm over the goosebumps on Yoongi’s forearm. “We should go back.”
So he plucks a fallen leaf from Yoongi’s hair, they sort out their clothes and then they sneak back inside the house, knowing full well that anyone who sees them will know immediately what they have been doing.
Yoongi slides the patio door shut behind them, chuckles to himself. When he turns around, Namjoon catches his lips.
“Good morning,” he says, because it is.
They take a bath together, have the servants prepare it. Hoseok has obvious trouble suppressing his snickers as he helps carrying in the hot water and pouring it into the large tub, and not even a venomous glare from Yoongi is enough to shut him up.
When they are alone again, they strip naked, let their chilled skin be welcomed by the warmth of the water. In a way, nudity is still a foreign concept to them. Yoongi’s heat had been the exception, but this casual kind of skin-on-skin contact allows Yoongi to relax into Namjoon’s embrace. Namjoon sits behind him, solid and trusted, and he is gently combing Yoongi’s hair, untangling any stray knots.
Eventually and almost inevitably, Namjoon’s hand slithers over Yoongi’s chest, teasing a nipple, but then slides lower, lingering on his belly, lower still, reaching between his legs. At the same time, he ducks his head to kiss the bite on the side of Yoongi’s neck.
“You smell so good,” he murmurs, and Yoongi hums right back, nuzzles against him.
The truth is, they smell of each other and the mixture has become a source of comfort to Yoongi. Back when the silks for his hwarot had been delivered, Namjoon’s scent had been foreign and intrusive. Now, it’s home.
Yoongi lets his thighs fall open and his eyes shut.
The suspicion creeps up on Yoongi slowly, like dew throughout the night. The math is easily done, though, and the timing seems about right. It makes sense, but he had tried not to think about it too much and now he finds himself slightly caught off guard.
At first, he tries to tell himself that it’s his imagination. Yet the signs are there, not quite undeniable, but all pointing in the same direction.
Hoseok notices his distraction, prods him for answers on what has his mind so occupied, but Yoongi waves him away, makes excuses, postpones. Hoseok is his confidant, his oldest friend, and usually Yoongi tells him everything. But not this, not yet.
He waits a few more days, perhaps expecting to be proven wrong after all, perhaps just to gain some courage. Neither of those things happen.
He can tell that Namjoon is catching on as well, that – much like Hoseok – he has questions, but he does not ask them, gives Yoongi room to breathe instead.
So Yoongi does breathe and, after a week, finally, he makes up his mind.
In the evening, when dinner is eaten and they retire to their rooms, undressing each other with routinized care, Yoongi steels his resolve and tries to think of what to say.
He is stalled, however, when he notices how nervous Namjoon seems to be. He had kept fidgeting throughout dinner, had even knocked over his cup of soju, but Yoongi had not paid it any heed, preoccupied with his own thoughts as he was.
Now, though, Namjoon massages the knuckles of his fingers, glancing at Yoongi and away again, as though reluctant to breach a difficult subject. Yoongi wonders what it might be. He had hoped to break the news to Namjoon tonight but, perhaps this is not the right time after all.
They go to bed, do not quite settle down yet. The days have gotten shorter, the evenings darker. Usually, they would spend a few more hours reading, talking, exploring each other’s bodies with curious fingers. Now, Namjoon obviously struggles with how to continue.
“Yoongi,” he says finally. “I’ve been meaning to ask…”
He trails off, looks hesitant. Then his shoulders square.
“I would like to have your bite,” he says with determination, meeting Yoongi’s gaze.
Yoongi, on the other hand, can only stare, wide-eyed, unable to make sense of the words.
A shadow of uncertainty flickers across Namjoon’s open face.
“I know it is not how things are done among yangban,” he acknowledges. “But… I do not wish for our bond to be one-sided. You are not my property - you are my mate. And I want everyone to see it with their own eyes.”
It is a promise. A vow to never take another lover, to be faithful to Yoongi and respect their marriage. To not be parted from him, to the best of his abilities.
Yoongi does not hesitate. He just climbs straight onto Namjoon’s lap and kisses him on the mouth. His hands come up to loosen the collar of Namjoon’s sokgot, pull the fabric aside so the junction of his neck and shoulder is exposed.
Then, without any more preamble, he leans down and bites him.
The gesture feels more instinctual than he had expected. He knows just where to bite, what kind of pressure to exert to break skin but do no real harm. Perhaps Taehyung was right and this is natural after all. Perhaps the bite ought to always be mutual.
The bitter taste of blood hits Yoongi’s tongue, and then he licks across the wound, hoping to soothe the pain.
“Thank you,” Namjoon whispers, relaxing underneath the gentle touch. They would need to clean it, to avoid infection, but for now they just enjoy the warmth and proximity. And it is a profound moment between them, but it feels simple. Like it was only a matter of time for them to end up here.
For one last moment, Yoongi wars with himself.
“There is something I wish to tell you as well,” he confesses, murmured against the reddened skin, yet he still finds that he lacks the right words.
Finally, though, he takes heart – and Namjoon’s hand. He guides his palm to make it rest upon his own belly, just the slightest swell beneath it.
Namjoon leans back, stares, but does not remove his hand. Yoongi gazes back unflinchingly.
“Are you-?” Namjoon begins and Yoongi nods.
“I have not talked to a physician yet,” he acknowledges. “But I feel certain.”
Namjoon’s eyes brighten, joyful like a boy on his nameday, but Yoongi does not get to appreciate the sight for long, because then he is being kissed senseless by his mate. Little more than half a year ago, Yoongi would have thought his fate worse than death. Now, it has given him new life.
“A child,” Namjoon says, breathless against his lips. “I hadn’t thought- you- Thank you.”
“It’s early still,” Yoongi cautions. “Much might go wrong.”
“I know. But I am so grateful.” This time, Namjoon kisses the tip of his nose. “Tae will be overjoyed.”
At that, Yoongi frowns, pulls back.
“Why Tae?”
“Ah.” Namjoon looks a little chagrined, as though he has given away too much. “After you and I were betrothed, I told Tae that he would still need to wait to marry Jungkook, that I should try to appease our parents first.”
“Huh.” Yoongi cocks an eyebrow. “And you think a grandchild will be enough?”
“I cannot think of anything better.” Namjoon muses, almost to himself. His fingers are on Yoongi’s belly, tracing patterns.
He will be a good father, Yoongi realizes. He hasn’t given it much thought before, but now there isn’t any doubt anymore. Namjoon will love their children and he will treat them well. Still, Yoongi cannot help but wonder.
“If our child is an omega,” he says. “Or a girl. What will you do?”
Namjoon draws back to better look at his face, seems confused. “What do you mean?”
“Will you one day give them away?” he wants to know. Has to know. “Find a profitable match for them?”
“I would let them marry for love,” Namjoon promises. The smile on his lips is soft. “After all, that’s what I did.”
“Did you?” Yoongi asks, his fingers curling into Namjoon’s collar, holding on.
“I grew into it,” Namjoon says and kisses him again.
[Edits by niosism]