Chapter Text
Jimin spent the early years of BTS trying to perfect a masculine image. He worked out religiously, ate (too much) protein to try and bulk up, and wore clothes that looked like they came from the set of a high school jock movie. He tried to make his voice sound deeper, even when it hurt his vocal cords and he was scolded by his vocal instructor. He was a caricature of what he had always been told a man was. What a man should be.
And it was mostly fine. He got through the long gym sessions, the massive meals, and the shirtless performances. He dealt with the fans believing he was an athletic, bully type. He was fine with all of that if it meant BTS had a popular image. He resigned himself to happily playing whatever role he needed to, without a second thought.
But as BTS’ popularity grew, and as their image changed and matured, Jimin was grateful to leave the manufactured masculinity behind. The Wings comeback had changed something – everything. The world knew who they were now, knew who Jimin was. And the world didn’t see him as overly masculine; they saw him as beautiful. He liked pushing that envelope, skirting the edge somewhere between feminine and masculine. He was finally becoming comfortable with his own image, and it was…wonderful.
Until, that is, their stylist presented the wardrobe samples for their upcoming comeback for their new album, Heavenly Bodies. Each member had two outfits, as their main stage for the new title track, Ethereal, would feature a costume change for everyone.
“Isn’t this a bit…flashy?” Jimin balked, looking over his sample stage outfits with what he hoped was a look of neutrality. His was different from everyone else’s. While the other members had dark colored silk blouses and slacks for the first outfit, Jimin had an all-white, flowy silk suit with sparkly tendrils hanging off of the shoulders like a cape – like wings. Which was fine. Comfortable for him. Beautiful.
The second outfit was entirely different. It was so strappy that he had almost mistook it for an assortment of accessories. But there was no mistaking the label on the hanger – “Jimin’s Second Look.” It was…hard to describe. But if Jimin wasn’t crazy (which he strongly believed he wasn’t), his second look was black leather and lace…lingerie?
It was a black, leather corset with mesh paneling and leather straps for sleeves. It had ribbons zigzagging in the back, tied together at the bottom in a tight bow. Thinking of how much of his chest, stomach and back would be exposed made Jimin dizzy. The pants were tight black leather, and, unbelievably, they had the same zigzagging ribbons in the back as the corset, climbing from his ankles to just before his ass. There was a lace collar to go around his neck and black lace gloves that would stop a little above his elbows. It was sinful looking even on the hanger.
“We think it’s perfect for Ethereal.” The stylist explained with a bright smile. “We want you to represent both an angel and a demon. The idea is that you begin as an angel, and you eventually are corrupted as you give up your holiness to save the others. They’ll all end in white, see? And you’ll do the opposite. You’ll end in –“
“In a pornography?” Jimin cut in, shaking his head as he rubbed the lacy material of the gloves in his hand. The stylist’s smile faltered. Jimin tried to be gentler. “I’m sorry, it’s just a little more…” Jimin trailed off in his mind. More scandalous. More exposing. More actual fucking lingerie. “…more than I was expecting.”
“Well, we know it’s a bit sensual. We think it fits with the song, though. Yoongi-oppa approved of the concept and said it would work well with the lyrics he wrote.”
“Maybe Yoongi-hyung should wear this then.” Jimin meant it as a joke, but his chuckle came out a bit spiteful and sharp. It made everyone nearby turn to him curiously.
“Jimin-ah, is there a problem?” Namjoon had already approved of his stage looks and had walked over to Jimin and the stylist. His brow was a little furrowed, but he looked largely unbothered. Probably, Jimin thought, because the rest of the members’ outfits had included, well, fabric.
“Hyung, could you look at this? Don’t you think this is kinda…” Jimin trailed off again, letting Namjoon evaluate the outfit fully. The leader’s brows furrowed further. He took his time looking at the components of both stage outfits, pausing for an unnervingly long time as his eyes tracked the corset back of the leather pants up and down…twice. Eventually, he cleared his throat and turned to the stylist.
“The white outfit is perfect. But I agree fully with Jimin, the black outfit is too extreme. His dance will sell the character’s corruption. He doesn’t need to dress that way to get the point across.” Namjoon put a hand on Jimin’s shoulder, and the younger man let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Of course Namjoon wouldn’t make him wear that. Of course he would have his leader’s support.
Jimin’s relief didn’t last very long.
“Maybe he should try it on before we have to start over redesigning his second look?” The stylist was not backing down. “I think it may appear more modest on him than we think, and it was pre-approved by everyone in management. ” Jimin had a hard time believing that if he was honest. Namjoon’s eyebrows quirked up, and Jimin knew he had a hard time believing it too. But calling the stylist a liar would go too far, and Jimin was suddenly uncomfortable by the tension, wanting everyone to be happy. He felt bad for being the cause of a conflict.
“It’s up to you, Jimin,” Namjoon was looking at him, so understanding and patient. His hand never left Jimin’s shoulder, and he offered a smile before continuing,“ If you want to try it on, you can. But you don’t have to.” Namjoon was always talking to Jimin, but he was looking directly at the stylist as he finished speaking. His voice was firm, telling the stylist not to push any more on the subject.
Jimin felt a little bad for her. She was new, and she had clearly worked hard on matching the pieces to their song and its message. It felt disrespectful to dismiss her idea so quickly and harshly. And he just wanted the tension to dissipate. He didn’t want Namjoon being irritated because Jimin couldn’t handle this situation himself.
“I – I can try it.” He gathered the items from the hangers in one not-so-graceful scoop and began to walk quickly towards his small dressing room before he could change his mind.
“Wait!” The stylist jogged a few steps after him. “Don’t forget the shoes.”
The shoes were black boots with a ridiculously high, chunky heel. Jimin took them with a gulp and ran into the dressing room.
He took his own clothes off slowly, mostly because he was freaking out a little. He’d worn stage outfits before that pushed some boundaries. Hell, he’d worn no shirt at all in several performances. But this somehow felt so much more revealing than wearing nothing at all.
Still feeling goosebumps of an anxiety he couldn’t really explain, he started with the corset. Although he had thought he would need assistance to tighten it and tie it, he actually managed pretty well. It wasn’t the most comfortable item of clothing he’d ever worn, but it fit him well enough. He allowed the leather straps to fall off the shoulder, which made it a little more comfortable than having them straight up and down. He tried not to think about how the fallen straps would probably make him look even more disheveled.
The pants were, admittedly, a struggle to put on. His toes kept getting caught in the ribbon netting on the backside of them. But, once they were on, they were at least his size. Tight. Really tight. But the right length, and not so much tighter than pants he had worn in the past.
He put on the shoes while bracing himself on the dressing room wall, and he finished quickly with the gloves and collar.
When he was sure everything was on, he finally, slowly, turned to look at himself in the mirror.
And he stopped breathing.
Because the person in the mirror was literally breathtaking.
The person in the mirror was sex incarnate. But it was more than that. It was undeniably beautiful. He was beautiful. Even without his performance hair and makeup.
His figure was flattered like he had never seen it before. The corset showed off his sculpted back muscles and slender, toned waist. The straps cascading off of his shoulders were delicate and feminine, and his lace gloves and collar made him look like some sort of violently alluring doll.
His pants were tight and flattering from the front, but from the back, it was a whole new level. The skin of his legs teased from between the crossing ribbons, showing more and more as his legs widened. By his thighs, there was little left to the imagination. And the ribbons only stopped right before his round ass, tightly supported by the leather of the pants. The shoes gave him height, but also made his legs seem to go on for miles, the corset back of the pants seeming to go impossibly high – teasing a show of much more than was actually revealed.
It was sinful in every conceivable way, unlike anything Jimin had ever seen on another person, or at least any man. Jimin couldn’t stop looking at himself, caressing his arms and legs and stomach, feeling the contrasting lace and leather like a private, forbidden tapestry.
He couldn’t stop himself as he raised a gloved hand to brush against his cheek, his lips. He was dizzy with a mixture of adrenaline and something warmer – heady and sweet – pooling in his stomach.
“Jimin? Are you okay in there?” Namjoon sounded worried, and Jimin realized he must have been in the dressing room for too long. He didn’t know if he was okay, but he had no idea what was wrong with him. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his head. Took a deep breath before answering.
“Um…yeah. I’m coming out now!”
Jimin stepped out of the dressing room slowly, gingerly.
The first thing he noticed was that all of the members and a majority of the stylist staff were standing there watching him. The second thing he noticed was that this outfit was (unsurprisingly) breezy.
He stood there, goosebumps pricking at his exposed skin, as everyone stared at him.
“H – hyung, oh my god. You cannot wear that.” Jeongguk broke the silence, dramatically throwing his hand up to cover his eyes, clearly scandalized. The youngest was blushing.
“But you look good Jimin! You look crazy sexy.” That was Taehyung, who whistled loudly before biting his lip at Jimin. Jimin felt his cheeks go hot.
And he may have preened a little, stood a little taller, jutted a hip out just slightly.
“I have to agree.”
Jimin’s head shot around, knowing that deep voice belonged to Yoongi. He met Yoongi’s unreadable stare with wide eyes before the older man continued, “With Jeongguk. You can’t wear that on stage.”
Yoongi’s eyes were dark, and his expression was…not unkind, but serious. Even more serious than normal. He was looking so intently at Jimin, like he was trying to memorize all of the features of his face. And his voice. It was deeper, smokier than Jimin remembered it ever being. It made Jimin’s head spin.
But he held Yoongi’s gaze, even as his face got hotter. He tapped into something inside himself, a flame of confidence. He narrowed his eyes a little at his hyung, tilted his head, and flicked his tongue over his plump bottom lip, slowly. Yoongi’s eyes went impossibly darker.
“It should be illegal for you to wear that, my god! You look like sin itself!” Hoseok shouted, falling into a fit of laughter. Soon Seokjin and Namjoon joined in, and the staff were giggling and shaking their heads. Jimin didn’t turn from Yoongi right away, but then he processed the laughter.
And his heart sunk.
He was hurt in a way he couldn’t understand or justify.
And the magic he had been feeling, the nervous excitement, was drifting away from him.
All at once he was no longer beautiful and devious. He was just a skinny man, wearing a ridiculous costume, exposing too much of himself in front his friends. He felt so unbelievably silly.
He felt like crying.
Instead, he pretended to laugh too, turning quickly back to the dressing room.
“Yeah, I think it’s safe to say the outfit is not going to happen!” Jimin called out from inside, exaggerating a hint of laughter in his voice.
He didn’t look back in the mirror as he began slowly taking the outfit off, focusing on the continued laughter of agreement coming from outside the dressing room.
Jimin knew it was probably for the best that he wouldn’t wear the outfit, but something felt so wrong as he slipped back into his original clothes. He folded up the outfit and let his hand run over the fabric one last time. He’d never felt as good about himself as he had just now. Powerful and seductive. He wondered suddenly when the last time had been where he had felt even marginally close to as good.
Jimin realized, just before he left the dressing room, that he still had the collar around his neck. He contemplated for a split second not taking it off. Taking it back to his room, wearing it and admiring himself. But that was a crazy, self-indulgent thought, and he quickly decided against it. Instead, he laid the collar down neatly on top of the rest of the outfit as he carried it out of the room.
Everyone had dispersed to go about their business. Jimin looked around, spotting Hoseok, Seokjin, and Jeongguk dancing together, messing around. He noticed Namjoon speaking with one of the lead stylists, but he couldn’t hear what he was saying.
Yoongi was gone. That made Jimin a little relieved. He didn’t know how he would face the older man after Jimin had acting so…weird just minutes before. Taehyung was waiting for Jimin, though, scrolling through his phone and leaning against a nearby wall.
Jimin’s stylist came over and wordlessly took the outfit from him with a resigned bow.
And Jimin watched her walk away, still feeling slightly breathless as he met up with Taehyung.