Chapter Text
⌚ ⌚ ⌚
Min Yoongi didn’t have the exact address for Choi Woosung’s cabin, but he knew it was somewhere outside a secluded village by the lake. He had a rough idea of where it might be—close to the water, hidden among the trees. That, along with its color, should be enough to find it.
Unfortunately, countless little blue cabins dotted this side of the lake. The sun was dipping below the horizon, leaving dim traces of light, and there weren’t many streetlights to guide him. The fading light made it hard to tell which houses were blue, gray, or green.
Yoongi’s eyes darted from one driveway to the next, looking for any sign of Woosung’s presence. He wasn’t sure if Woosung had brought his Maserati, but he was certain about one thing: wherever Woosung was keeping Jimin, the house would be quiet and isolated. Woosung wouldn’t risk drawing attention.
Rolling down the window, Yoongi squinted into the trees, trying to get a better look at the cabins set back from the road. Most were shadowed in darkness, with driveways so faint they were easy to miss.
He was about to pass another when he caught the faintest hint of smoke. The scent was so mild he nearly dismissed it, but then he felt a chill, a prickle at the back of his neck. His pulse quickened. Smoke could mean a fire, and fire could mean danger for Jimin.
In an instant, Yoongi’s instincts took over. He slammed on the brakes, yanking the wheel to the left, and turned sharply down a narrow, overgrown path. The road twisted and narrowed between two tall trees, which opened up to reveal a small blue cabin nestled between them.
Yoongi recognized it instantly—it was the cabin from the worn photograph. And now, it was likely where Woosung was hiding Jimin.
Sure enough, Woosung’s silver Maserati was parked alongside the cabin. The trunk stood open.
Yoongi’s suspicions were confirmed. He pulled his car to a stop, hoping Woosung hadn’t heard the engine or spotted him from inside. Quietly slipping out of the driver’s side, Yoongi crouched behind the car, trying to get a clear view of the cabin.
He sent a quick text to Jimin’s brothers. They were too far away to reach him anytime soon.
The faint scent of smoke was unmistakable now. Over the rustle of wind through the trees, Yoongi could hear the faint crackle of burning wood. All the lights in the cabin were off, but an alarming orange glow seeped from the back of the house.
No time to wait. If Jimin was in there, he had to get him out now.
Staying low, Yoongi moved toward the cabin, drawing his Beretta. He kept his grip steady, wary of firing it in the dark without knowing Jimin’s exact location. One stray bullet could be disastrous.
He made his way around to the back of the cabin, peering in through the windows but seeing nothing through the darkness. Trying the back door, he found it unlocked. The moment he opened it, a cloud of thick, black smoke billowed out, forcing him to crouch lower, covering his mouth and nose with his arm to stifle a cough.
The influx of fresh air only fueled the fire, which roared in response, spreading rapidly. The kitchen was engulfed in flames, with cabinets, countertops, the floor, and ceiling all ablaze.
Skirting the fire as best he could, Yoongi stumbled over something soft on the floor. For a split second, he hoped it was Jimin, but as he steadied himself, he realized it was only an old mattress.
He wanted to call out, but he couldn’t risk alerting Woosung, wherever he might be lurking. Moving carefully through the thick smoke, Yoongi searched the main level, but he couldn’t go anywhere near the kitchen or the hallway beyond. He had to believe Jimin was upstairs—there was no other option. The whole place was about to go up in flames, and time was running out.
With his shirt pulled halfway over his face, Yoongi sprinted up the stairs, his only thought on getting to Jimin.
He let his guard down. His gun was lowered as he reached the top of the stairs.
Suddenly, Woosung charged at him from the side with startling speed and strength, slamming into him with the force of an athlete. Yoongi crashed into the opposite wall, smashing hard against the drywall.
Yoongi’s gun spun out of his hand, clattering down the hallway and disappearing through a doorway.
Woosung was on him instantly, fists flying in wild, brutal punches. One blow landed square on Yoongi’s recent wound, tearing open the stitches and sending a wave of white-hot pain through his body. Yoongi let out a roar of pain, barely keeping himself upright. Woosung was an inch shorter but had at least thirty pounds on him, and years of raw, vicious brawling.
But Yoongi knew how to handle himself. After the initial onslaught, he managed to raise his arms, blocking a few punches before countering with quick jabs to Woosung’s stomach and jaw.
The hits barely registered on Woosung. His face was nearly unrecognizable, his hair a tangled mess, eyes wild, with dried blood trailing down from his nose, giving him a twisted, sinister look.
“Where is he, you sick bastard?” Yoongi demanded, fists up.
Woosung wiped a hand across his face as fresh blood trickled from his nose. “He was mine first, and he’ll be mine last,” he snarled.
“He was never yours!” Yoongi shouted.
Woosung lunged forward again, grabbing at Yoongi’s knees and tackling him. He was so unhinged, so recklessly strong, that they both went tumbling down the stairs. Yoongi’s head smashed into the edge of one of the steps, sending stars flashing in his vision. But Woosung got the worst of it, landing hard on the bottom step, knocked out cold—or so it seemed.
The smoke thickened in the air as Yoongi struggled to catch his breath. Each inhale sent him into a fit of coughing, pain stabbing his ribs—possibly cracked from Woosung’s brutal attacks.
Dragging himself back up the stairs, he shouted, “JIMIN! Jimin, where are you?”
The smoke clawed at his throat, scratching his voice raw. He coughed harder, tears streaming down his cheeks as he fought his way up. But suddenly, Woosung seized his ankle, yanking him down. Yoongi fell hard against the stairs, his jaw slamming into the wooden edge. With a desperate kick, he managed to wrench his leg free and sent his heel crashing into Woosung’s face, sending him tumbling down the stairs once more.
Ignoring the pain, Yoongi forced himself back up. Smoke billowed around him, and the heat rose from below as flames consumed the first floor. He wasn’t even sure they’d be able to escape once he found Jimin—if Jimin was even still alive.
Frantically, Yoongi threw open every door along the hallway. Bathroom. Linen closet. Empty bedroom. Finally, at the end of the hall, he found the master bedroom. It was bare, like the rest of the cabin, with no furniture except for a single figure on the floor. Jimin lay bound at the wrists and ankles, his head resting on a makeshift pillow. Despite the danger, Woosung had taken the time to make him “comfortable” before setting the place ablaze.
Yoongi rushed over to Jimin, lifting his head to check for any signs of life. Pressing two fingers against Jimin’s throat, he felt a faint pulse. Jimin’s eyes fluttered open, clouded and dazed but unmistakably alive.
“Jimin!” Yoongi whispered, stroking his cheek. “I’m here!”
“Yoongi?” Jimin croaked, his voice weak.
There was no time to untie him. Yoongi lifted Jimin over his shoulder, prepared to make their escape. But as he turned toward the doorway, a hulking figure blocked the exit.
Carefully, Yoongi set Jimin down. The heat intensified, and the roar of flames echoed up from below. The wallpaper started to blacken and peel, the fire creeping through the walls.
“It’s over, Woosung,” Yoongi said, holding his hands up. “We need to get out before the whole house collapses.”
Woosung shook his head with a strange twitch, his eyes glassy and his body hunched as he limped toward them, fists clenched.
“None of us are leaving,” he growled.
In one last desperate charge, Woosung barreled into Yoongi, his shoulder slamming into Yoongi’s chest. They grappled, clawing and swinging at each other. Yoongi threw punches at his face, his side, his kidneys—anywhere he could reach.
Out of the corner of his eye, Yoongi saw Jimin slamming his cast against the windowsill. Not his hands—his cast. Gritting his teeth in pain, Jimin was trying to break the cast on his right hand. With one final smash, the plaster gave way, and Jimin pulled his hand free, immediately fumbling to untie the ropes around his ankles. His broken fingers struggled, clumsy against the tight knots.
Yoongi lost sight of Jimin as Woosung tackled him again. They rolled across the floor, grappling with everything they had. The floor groaned ominously beneath them, straining under their weight as the room grew hotter, the air thick and black with smoke.
Jimin jumped to his feet, and Yoongi shouted, “Get the gun, Jimin! It’s in one of the rooms…”
He knew Jimin wouldn’t be able to find it in all this smoke. Really, he just wanted Jimin to get out, because the fire was raging beneath them, and Yoongi had a sinking feeling he was about to be swallowed by it.
He tightened his grip around Woosung’s throat, pinning him down, squeezing as hard as he could. Woosung’s eyes bulged, his fists beating at Yoongi’s arms, his strikes growing weaker each time. Yoongi held on, feeling the floor start to tilt beneath them.
Suddenly, the entire corner of the room gave way. The floor turned into a steep, tilting slide, dropping downward toward the inferno that had taken over the kitchen below. Yoongi and Woosung slid, tumbling toward the flames.
Yoongi released his hold, desperately trying to scramble back, but it was too late. He was sliding faster than he could climb. There was no way out—until something seized his sleeve. He looked up to see Jimin, gripping the doorframe with one hand and holding onto Yoongi’s wrist with the other. His face twisted in pain as he clung to the frame with his injured hand.
Yoongi didn’t dare grab Jimin’s arm. He could see how weak Jimin’s grip was, and he wasn’t about to drag him down.
“I love you, Jiminah,” Yoongi said.
“Don’t you dare!” Jimin shouted. “You grab my arm, or I’ll jump down after you!”
Anyone else, Yoongi would think they were bluffing. But he knew Jimin would actually do it.
So he took Jimin’s arm and hauled himself up just as the floor beneath them gave way, collapsing in a rush of flame and wood. Woosung let out a piercing howl as he plummeted into the fire. Yoongi and Jimin scrambled through the doorway, clutching each other’s hands as they fled down the hallway. The stairs were a lost cause, already overtaken by flames. Instead, they ran to the other side of the house, finding a child’s room with old sailboat decals on the walls—Woosung’s childhood room.
Yoongi forced the window open, smoke billowing out into the night. He swung himself out, dropping down to the ground below, then raised his arms to catch Jimin.
Jimin leaped down into Yoongi’s arms, one shoe missing, his face streaked with soot and ash.
As they sprinted away from the burning cabin, Yoongi heard the distant wail of sirens. He was pulling Jimin toward the Jeep when Jimin suddenly wrenched his hand free.
“Wait!” Jimin yelled.
Jimin darted back toward the beach, past the blazing house, running out toward the water. He bent down, grabbing something in the sand—his purse.
Returning to Yoongi, he grinned, his white teeth shining against his soot-covered face.
“Got it!” he said triumphantly.
“I could buy you a new one,” Yoongi replied, shaking his head.
“I know,” Jimin said, smiling.
Yoongi was about to start the engine, but there was one thing he couldn’t wait another second to do. He reached for Jimin, pulling him into a kiss, tasting smoke and blood on his lips. He kissed him like he’d never let him go.
Because he wouldn’t. Not ever.
🔥 🔥 🔥
Yoongi and Jimin turn onto the main road just as a fire truck races up the lane toward Woosung's beach house—or what’s left of it. The firemen glance down at their car as it passes, eyebrows raised, but they don’t stop them from fleeing the scene.
“What a wild ride!” Jimin shouts, his heart still racing. “Did you know Woosung was that crazy? I thought he was, like, just ‘my food can’t touch’ or ‘talking to yourself in the shower’ crazy—not full-on Shining!”
Yoongi, gripping the wheel, is driving fast, a grin matching Jimin’s lighting up his soot-streaked face. Jimin can’t help but notice how his usually serious husband almost looks like he’s enjoying the chaos.
“I can’t believe I found you,” Yoongi says, looking over at him, his dark eyes bright against his smoky skin.
“Yeah, holy crap! Did you find my shoe?” Jimin laughs, glancing down at his still-bare foot.
“Yes, I found it! And I remembered,” Yoongi says with a smirk, twisting around to search the back seat.
“Eyes on the road!” Jimin reminds him. He finds his sneaker a moment later, sliding it onto his foot. The contrast between the newly recovered shoe and his filthy other one is almost comical.
“There. Fully dressed again,” he jokes, holding up his hands.
But Yoongi’s gaze falls to Jimin’s bare left ring finger.
“Not entirely,” he says, brow furrowing.
“Oh, damn,” Jimin mutters angrily. “I forgot about that.”
“Did you leave it back there?” Yoongi asks, glancing in the rearview mirror at the glow of the burning house.
“Yeah, but Woosung smashed it anyway,” Jimin sighs.
“Doesn’t matter.” Yoongi squeezes Jimin’s thigh reassuringly. “I wanted to get you a new one. I didn’t pick that one out.”
Jimin grins. “Yeah, I’ve gotten pretty familiar with Haerim’s taste by now.”
Yoongi chuckles as he merges onto the highway, heading back toward the city. “You better call your brothers. They were convinced Bang stole you.”
“Honestly, I might’ve been better off if he had.” Jimin makes a face. “At least he’s got style. Woosung just kept whining and guilt-tripping—like, dude, get over it and find a date or something.”
Yoongi gives Jimin a sidelong glance, then bursts into laughter. “Jimin, you’re completely insane.”
Jimin shrugs, grinning. “Just a little helpful critique.”
He dials Namjoon’s number, but it’s Hoseok who picks up. “Jimin?” Hoseok says, his voice tense.
“Yeah, it’s me,” Jimin replies.
“Thank god. I was about to drive over there myself.”
“Wait—where are you?”
“At the hospital. Namjoon’s been shot. Don’t worry; he’s fine,” Hoseok quickly adds. “Bang Shi Hyuk hit him in the side, but it didn’t hit anything vital.”
“That filthy bastard!” Jimin growls. “He’s going to pay for that.”
“Well, he already did,” Hoseok says dryly. “Namjoon’s got better aim than the Butcher.”
“Wait, he’s dead?” Jimin’s eyes widen.
“Completely,” Hoseok says confidently. “Unless he’s got a spare head somewhere, he’s done for.”
Jimin lets out a long breath, leaning back against the seat. Tonight had been one hell of an adventure.
He looks over at Yoongi, who’s pale beneath the soot. He’s got a nasty cut over his eyebrow and winces slightly every time he breathes in.
As Jimin lifts his aching hand, he realizes he’s worse off than he thought. His fingers have swelled up again, and his hand throbs in rhythm with his heartbeat. He’s probably going to need another cast.
“What hospital are you guys at?” Jimin asks Hoseok. “We might need to join you there.”
In just a couple of hours, Jimin and Yoongi would be cleaned up and patched up at SMH.
Namjoon would be there for a few days at least—they had to put three pints of blood back into him. Kihyun and Hoseok were keeping him company, and Jimin was shocked to see their bruised and battered faces.
“What the hell happened to you?” he asked.
“While Namjoon was having a shootout at his mistress’s apartment, Kihyun and I were NOT finding the Butcher and getting our asses kicked by his lieutenant instead,” Hoseok explained, gritting his teeth.
“Not just the lieutenant,” Kihyun chimed in, wincing as he spoke. He had a black eye so severe he could barely see out of his left eye. “There were at least four of them.”
"Kihyun here is a serious brawler,” he said with a hint of admiration. “He gave 'em the old ground and pound, didn’t you, Kihyunie?”
“I guess he’s not so bad when he’s on our side,” Jimin said, raising an eyebrow.
Kihyun managed a half-grin, only half because the other side of his face was too swollen to move. “Was that a compliment?” he asked.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” Jimin replied, a teasing smile on his lips.
“You two don’t look so great either,” Hoseok remarked, glancing between them.
“Well, that’s where you’re wrong,” Jimin said with a laugh. “If we were any hotter, we’d be charcoal briquettes.”
Min Dongwoo pulled up to pick them up, even though the Jeep was parked outside. “Two hospital visits in one week,” he said, giving Jimin and Yoongi a stern look through his horn-rimmed glasses. “I hope this isn’t becoming a hobby for you two.”
“No,” Yoongi said, wrapping his arm around Jimin’s shoulders in the backseat of the Beamer. “I don’t think we’re doing anything too crazy next week. Except maybe look for an apartment.”
“Oh?” Dongwoo paused, glancing back at them in the rearview mirror. “You want to get your own place together?”
Yoongi looked down at Jimin, who felt his heart swell at the thought. “Yeah,” he replied. “I think it’s time.”
Jimin’s heart felt heavy and warm in his chest. The idea of finding a place with Yoongi—not just his house or Jimin’s, but one they chose together—was comforting.
“That’s good,” Dongwoo said, nodding. “I’m glad to hear it, son.”
As they pulled up in front of the Min mansion, Jimin felt an unusual sense of homecoming wash over him. For the first time, it felt like a safe place to lay his head. Exhaustion settled in as he stumbled a little, getting out of the car. He’d stiffened up from sitting, and even though Yoongi was just as tired, probably more injured than Jimin, he scooped him up in his arms and carried him into the house like a groom carrying his bride over the threshold.
“Shouldn’t you save that for our new apartment?” Jimin teased.
“I’m going to carry you everywhere like this,” Yoongi declared. “For one, I like it. And for another, it’ll keep anybody else from snatching you.”
“You got snatched too, one of those times,” Jimin reminded him, chuckling softly.
Yoongi carried him all the way up the stairs, and Jimin felt the familiar warmth spread through him. “You’re going to break your ribs again!” he exclaimed, half-laughing, half-serious.
“Oh, they’re still broken right now,” Yoongi assured him, puffing and groaning as they finally reached the top of the stairs. “They didn’t do much about it at the hospital. Just gave me a couple of Tylenol.”
“Did that help?”
“Not a fucking bit,” he replied, his breath ragged.
Once they reached the landing, Yoongi set Jimin down gently. Jimin to kiss him softly on the lips.
“Thank you,” Jimin said, feeling grateful and content, their connection grounding him amidst the chaos.
“I’m not done taking care of you yet,” Yoongi says softly. “You still need to get cleaned up.”
“Oh nooooo,” Jimin groans, suddenly all too aware of how grimy he feels. “Just let me go to bed. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“Go brush your teeth,” Yoongi insists. “Or you’ll hate yourself in the morning.”
Grumbling under his breath, Jimin drags himself to the bathroom to brush and floss. By the time he’s finished, Yoongi has the shower running with fresh, fluffy towels waiting for them.
Yoongi soaps Jimin's whole body, working the lather in until the suds run from black to gray to white down the drain. His fingers knead into Jimin’s stiff neck and shoulders, and with the help of the hot water, he works out the tense, knotted muscles, until Jimin feels like a wet spaghetti noodle instead of a twisted-up pretzel.
By the time they’re both completely clean, Jimin finds he’s not as tired as he thought. In fact, some parts of him are very much awake.
“My turn,” Jimin murmurs, grabbing a towel and rubbing Yoongi down. He works the towel over the curve of Yoongi’s broad back, his perfect hips, down along his legs. Yoongi’s body is covered in bruises, scratches, and deeper cuts, and yet to Jimin, he’s flawless—perfect for him. He loves everything about Yoongi, from his shape to his scent to the way his arms feel wrapped around him.
Turning Yoongi around, Jimin starts drying his front, working upward from his feet. As he reaches Yoongi’s thighs, he comes to that thick, swollen arousal, warm and clean from the shower. Jimin wraps his hand around it, feeling it respond under his touch. The skin is incredibly soft. He strokes his fingertips down its length, and Yoongi’s body tenses with pleasure, his head tilting back slightly. Jimin squeezes the base, drawing a low moan from Yoongi.
Yoongi pulls Jimin close, his voice rough. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you.”
“You can,” Jimin murmurs, smiling. “In a minute.”
Jimin lowers himself, taking Yoongi into his mouth, gently working his lips and tongue along his length, savoring each touch and sound he elicits. In that moment, they’re completely lost in each other, every sense heightened, finding comfort and warmth in each other’s arms.
In this story, Park Jimin and Min Yoongi are husbands.
Jimin takes as much of Yoongi's length into his mouth as he can, trying to push the head further back, deep into his throat. It's incredibly challenging to handle a cock of this size. He gains a newfound respect for porn stars; how do they manage to take the whole thing down to the base? He feels like he’d need to be a sword swallower to achieve that. Halfway down the shaft, he gags and has to pull back.
Yoongi appears completely unfazed. Jimin envisions that Yoongi would gladly allow him to practice all night. He has already discovered a few preferences—such as the way Yoongi reacts positively when Jimin softly tugs and caresses him while kissing up and down his length. The rich groan that emerges from Yoongi resonates deeply, almost like a low growl.
Jimin could genuinely engage in this for hours. There’s an undeniable intimacy and trust involved in having someone's most sensitive part in your mouth. At this moment, his desire to please Yoongi has never been stronger. Yoongi saved him tonight; without his intervention, Jimin could have perished in the flames without even realizing it. The least he can do is provide Yoongi with the most fulfilling release he has ever known.
Yoongi found him, just as he promised. It wasn’t his father or his brothers—it was his husband. This man he hadn't originally wanted, but now he can't imagine life without him. Jimin feels like he should worship Yoongi’s body all night, kissing every scrape and bruise.
But, as usual, Yoongi has his own plans. He pulls Jimin down onto the bed until they're lying side by side, heads at opposite ends. Then Yoongi buries his head between Jimin’s thighs, devouring him like he hasn't eaten in days.
Jimin works on Yoongi’s cock simultaneously. It’s even trickier from this upside-down angle, but that doesn’t matter. He’s giving Yoongi pleasure, and he’s receiving it in return. As he runs his tongue over Yoongi’s smooth, soft skin, he feels both their warmth and wetness—it's intimate and connected. It feels like they’re equals, both learning how to give and to receive.
Jimin had questioned whether Yoongi would ever locate him. It seemed unlikely, but now he is certain that if he finds himself in danger again, his husband will be there to rescue him.
God, Yoongi is so good at this. Jimin can already feel waves of pleasure coursing through him, becoming stronger with each passing moment.
Jimin didn’t want to cum like this—not yet. He wanted to feel Yoongi deep inside him. So he turned around, positioning himself over Yoongi, and slowly lowered himself onto him. Yoongi’s length slid inside easily, slick with their mingled arousal.
Looking down, Jimin’s gaze met Yoongi’s intense, dark eyes. That piercing look used to unnerve him, but now he craved it, the thrill of having Yoongi’s full attention. It sparked something wild in him, making him want to do anything to keep that hungry look in Yoongi's eyes.
Yoongi's hands moved to Jimin’s hips, his fingers firm and guiding. Jimin wanted to ride him harder, faster, but Yoongi’s grip held him to a slow, steady rhythm, grounding him. Pleasure surged through Jimin, each deep thrust sending him closer to the edge. His hands pressed against Yoongi’s chest, his arms tense with the effort of moving atop him.
Yoongi’s hands slid from Jimin’s hips up to his chest, kneading his body as Jimin moved. The rhythm of Yoongi’s hands matched the rocking of Jimin’s hips, intensifying the connection between them. Jimin starts to cum, throwing his head back and grinding his cock hard against his body.
Yoongi pinches his nipples, one long, drawn-out squeeze that sends a jolt of pleasure ricocheting back and forth from chest to groin. It intensifies the orgasm as it rebounds it over and over.
It’s so strong that he can’t even stay on top of Yoongi anymore. His hole is throbbing, pulsing with the aftermath of that climax. But he's not done yet. he want to finish what he started before
When he caught his breath, Jimin slid down Yoongi’s body, positioning himself between his legs. He took Yoongi into his mouth, tasting the blend of their bodies on his skin. The warmth and slight saltiness combined with his own sweetness, a mix that was entirely theirs.
Jimin want more.
He start sucking Yoongi off, even more enthusiastically than before. His lips are swollen and sensitive from his climax. Jimin feel every little ridge and vein of his Yoongi against on his tongue. He can feel Yoongi's pulse, and how his cock tenses and throbs as he gets closer and closer to the edge.
Gripping the base of Yoongi's cock, Jimin suck hard on the head, tipping him over.
“Oh, Jesus, Jiminah!” Yoongi cries out, as he explodes into Jimin's mouth.
Yoongi's cum is thick and slippery and warm. Jimin loves how it tastes, mixed with his own wetness.
They’re meant to be together, him and Yoongi.
Salty and sweet.
When Jimin drained every last drop out of Jimin, the elder wrapped him up in his arms again, their legs entwined beneath the sheets.
Jimin thinks he can even feel their hearts beating in tandem.
⌚ ⌚ ⌚
The very next day, Yoongi took Jimin house hunting around Seoul. They visited upscale neighborhoods from the bustling heart of Gangnam to quieter, charming areas near Bukchon, exploring everything from townhouses and penthouses to chic lofts and historic hanoks. Yoongi wanted to show Jimin every option, anything that he thought might catch his interest.
Finally, they chose something unique—a converted old church with stunning architectural features. Their apartment was on the top floor, boasting a massive rose window in a pointed arch that filled the entire living room with soft, colorful light. Jimin was captivated at first sight, and they put down a deposit immediately.
Then, Yoongi realized there was something else missing in their marriage. He took Jimin to pick out a proper wedding ring, one he could choose to his own taste. Yoongi had thought Jimin might go with something simple, but Jimin surprised him by selecting a small, emerald-cut stone with elegant filigree baguettes. It had a classic, timeless look that fit him perfectly.
When Yoongi slipped the ring onto Jimin’s finger, he repeated the vows he had once spoken carelessly, now savoring every word.
“I, Yoongi, take you, Jimin, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honor you all the days of my life. I promise you that, Jimin. I’ll always be there for you. I’ll never let you down.”
Jimin looked up at him with those warm, shining eyes. “I know that,” he said softly. “I know exactly what you’d do for me.”
To celebrate the beginning of their new life together, Yoongi took Jimin for lunch at a small, elegant restaurant in Itaewon.
When they sat down, Jimin set his bag on the table between them, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
“I actually have something for you, too,” he said.
“Oh?” Yoongi asked, not expecting anything. Gifts usually weren’t a big thing for him, and he had rarely been genuinely surprised by one.
“I almost feel silly giving it to you,” Jimin said, sliding a small, flat box across the table. “Since it’s technically already yours.”
Yoongi lifted the box, which felt unexpectedly heavy. Opening the lid, he was stunned to see a gold pocket watch—the exact same one that had belonged to his grandfather, the one he thought he had lost forever. It looked identical, down to the gentle wear on its edges.
“How did you do this?” Yoongi asked, amazed. “It’s exactly like the original…even the wear marks…”
“More worn than it was, actually,” Jimin admitted, smiling sheepishly. “It was at the bottom of the lake for weeks.”
“What?” Yoongi stared at him, stunned. “This is the same watch?”
“Yes, it is,” Jimin said, looking rather pleased with himself.
“How?” Yoongi shook his head, still incredulous.
Jimin beamed. “I found a YouTuber who retrieves lost items underwater. I saw one of his videos where he found a ring in a river, and I thought…if he could do that…”
“So you contacted him?”
“Exactly,” Jimin replied. “I paid him, of course, and he got to use it for his channel. It took him three days and two metal detectors, but he found it!”
Yoongi turned the watch over in his hands, barely able to believe he was holding it again. He looked up at Jimin’s hopeful, proud expression.
Only Jimin would believe that he could actually get the watch back. Yoongi hadn’t even considered it possible—might as well drain the whole lake before Jimin would ever give up.
He loved this man so much. The day Jimin had barged into his life had been the luckiest day of all. Strange and inexplicable, yet perfect in every way.
“Do you forgive me for losing it in the first place?” Jimin asked, his slim fingers sliding into Yoongi’s hand.
“I probably shouldn’t tell you how much you could get away with, Love,” Yoongi said, shaking his head. “But you already know that I’d forgive you for anything.”
“Anything?” Jimin teased, grinning up at him.
“Yes,” Yoongi replied, smiling. “But please don’t test that theory.”
Jimin leaned across the table and kissed him, pulling back just enough so their noses touched.
“I love you,” he whispered. “Did I tell you that today?”
“No,” Yoongi grinned, “Tell me again.”
[ FIN ]