Anyone, But A Jock | Jikook (Mini)

Chapter Fourteen: The Mate

"Jungkook, lift your arm," Jimin giggled, glancing at their reflection in the gym mirror. Jungkook stood close behind him, his strong arms wrapped snugly around Jimin's waist. Jimin could feel the playful squeeze on his hips, the grey sweatpants he'd borrowed from Jungkook hanging just a little too loose.

"But I like holding you better," Jungkook murmured, his voice warm. He leaned in, brushing his nose against Jimin's scent gland, drawing an uncontrollable laugh from Jimin as he squirmed slightly. Jimin's laughter grew louder when Jungkook pressed a kiss to the mating mark on his neck.

They had mated after a full year of dating, though it hadn't happened as either of them had imagined. For months, they'd shared countless conversations about how they wanted to seal their bond: a romantic dinner or a cozy night in with wine and candles. Maybe a trip out of Seoul, go to Jeju, or somewhere crazy like New York. But in the end, Jungkook bit down the mating mark on the most ordinary day.

They had just moved into a bigger apartment, signing the lease after saving for months. Jungkook had cooked dinner to celebrate while Jimin hovered in the kitchen, claiming to help but mostly sneaking bites of food. Later, they ended up on their new couch, tucked under a blanket, watching The Breakfast Club—an old American rom-com about misfit students in detention.

Something about the simplicity of it all—the warmth of their shared space, the hum of the TV in the background, and the rare stillness after weeks of chasing their careers—stirred their wolves awake. Without them realizing it, their wolves responded to the intimacy of the moment. Their bodies began moving, and their lips found each other in the effortless way they always did, but there was something different to it that day. An extra charge to the energy that sparked between them, an adoring rawness that was both consuming and primal.

By the time the credits rolled, Jungkook's teeth were in Jimin's shoulder, and a low, rumbling purr filled the air. Jimin's irises glowed gold as Jungkook's darkened to pitch black, the love between them permanently claimed. They were tied, their souls bound together in a way that no ceremony or grand gesture could replicate.

They weren't ready for marriage just yet, wanting to wait until they were older. But their wolves had been impatient, craving the connection only a mark could provide. It wasn't how Jimin had imagined their official mating going, but it was perfect nonetheless—lighthearted, spontaneous, and utterly domestic. It summed up their relationship pretty well.

That wasn't to say Jungkook wasn't there when things got hard. In fact, it was the opposite. Jimin had never met someone who could ground him the way Jungkook did.

That year, Jimin's relationship with his mother was a whirlwind of highs and lows. He wrestled with the growing disappointment when she didn't show up for him in the ways he needed and felt overwhelmed when she actually did. His graduation from MMCA had been particularly charged—an emotional mind-fuck made worse by his father's unexpected appearance. The day had culminated in a screaming match outside the dinner venue, the years of radio silence between them crashing into Jimin's anger at his father's audacity to show up unannounced.

His friends were a lifeline through it all, offering the deep, nuanced emotional support Jimin needed when he felt like venting, analyzing, and unraveling the mosaic of his history. They helped him make sense of how the years of pain and longing had culminated in the sharp betrayal and heartbreak of facing what he thought he'd always wanted—his parents playing an active role in his life.

Taehyung had called him after hearing about the fight from Seokjin, patiently listening as Jimin spilled every detail over the phone. There was a gentle kindness in how his friends all showed up for him, creating space to grieve, process, and indulgently unravel.