Anyone, But A Jock | Jikook (Mini)

Chapter Two: The Jock

Jimin was eating a bowl of cereal the next afternoon, leaning on the kitchen counter connected to the living room. Jungkook was sprawled out on the couch—and Jimin was dying.

He had put so much care into making the living room cozy and artsy. It was made up of overlapping vinyl shelves, hanging potted plants, and warm lights spilling over the walls. Blankets were thrown over thrift stools for his friends, and comfy pillows were scattered to make the ample space feel smaller. It was dangerously toeing the line of an omega nest, but as Mingyu and Jimin were omegas, Jimin had leaned into it when decorating.

Jimin's close circle was made up of another omega, Seokjin. He was Namjoon's mate, who was an alpha, and then another alpha, Taehyung, who was Jimin's childhood friend. Seokjin loved Jimin's apartment for its nest-like charm, but Namjoon and Taehyung never looked out of place in the omega's overly cozy living room. Namjoon was all arms and legs, but the tall wolf loved to sink into Jimin's couch. His introspective, calm energy added another color to the space. While Taehyung's aura, a musician made up of slow dancing and jazz, harmonized with it. They melted seamlessly into the space like watercolor paints blending on a canvas.

So. It wasn't that alphas, in general, looked out of place. It was just Jungkook.

Jimin nibbled on his spoon in thought, the metal resting against his bottom lip as he observed the jock like an Australian observing the Amazon. Jungkook was - first of all - still wearing a backward baseball cap, which Jimin had already found wild to do unironically. A plain black compression shirt was tight around his shoulders and waist. He wore regular grey sweatpants with Calvin Klein boxer's poking above the waistband. It was the actualization of every hetero thirst trap Jimin had ever scrolled past on TikTok.

Jimin was used to muscles, but in the art circles, people usually had that lean, more gender-neutral presentation. He hadn't really been this close to a jock before, and so it was hard not to notice the way Jungkook carried his own strength. How did he even find tight shirts for how broad his shoulders were? How did the fabric not rip? The tattoos were wild, too. Did it hurt to get so many? Did he even feel the tattoo needle when his bones were so buried?

Despite his size, the baseball player was surprisingly respectful of Jimin's apartment. Well, sort of. Instead of tidying up Jimin's organized chaos, like the makeshift nest of blankets, Jungkook simply worked around it. He didn't straighten the furniture or fold the blankets, which Jimin appreciated. Instead, he just pushed things aside to make room for his larger frame. The alpha was drinking a protein shake, scrolling on his phone, with his back on the couch cushions, elbow on a stool next to it, and knee on the coffee table in front of it.

Jimin took another spoon of cereal into his mouth, tilting his head. Honestly, Jungkook with an alternative or stoner styling would go crazy. Jimin imagined him in some oversized t-shirts and baggy cargo pants, throwing on silver jewelers to go with it. He had the waist and pretty eyes for it. The image was almost cute. Did Jungkook go for sweatpants every day? They couldn't be that comfortable. Jimin's omega coo-ed in the back of his head, and he scowled at it. This situation is annoying; he reminded his wolf as if the ancient spirit would possibly care.

The alpha's scent was starting to drive Jimin crazy, too. It was a blend, and Jimin's omega would have absolutely borne its neck if it had come from literally anyone other than the athlete. It was this sweet lemon scent mixed with notes of orange and bergamot and smoked wood. The layers belonged to a struggling musician, someone who played gigs at bars, wrote poetry, and smoked cigarettes on rooftops while dreaming of reaching the stars. Not this baseball player who probably couldn't tell a crayon from a colored pencil.

Jungkook hadn't even been here half a week, but he already started scenting the space. It drove Jimin to a near-murderous rage. His apartment was a labor of love. Mingyu hadn't spent nearly as much time in it as Jimin or put even a fraction of the money and effort Jimin had poured into transforming it from a shitty two-bed-two-bath into what it was now. And the alpha had the fucking nerve to scent it?