#I'm so proud of you Jimin | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lostbookmark · 12 days

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MDNI 18+

WHISPERED SECRETS Masterlist

Summary: After four years, your sister's ex-boyfriend comes back into your life. Can you keep your entanglement a secret? Will the guilt eat you alive?

Pairing: Sisters Ex Yoongi x Insecure F. Reader.

Genre: SMUT, angst, hurt - comfort, romance.

Warning: Explicit sex, fingering, Possessive Yoongi, swearing, reader is insecure, jealousy, punishment, unprotected sex, drinking, dirty talk, praising, degradation, spanking, spanking as punishment, teasing, hair pulling, arguments. Over use of the name baby. Squirting.

A/N: I just wanted to say thank you to everyone. I was so SCARED to post on here, not really knowing what I was doing. When I hit the post button, I wanted to delete it right away. I didn't expect anyone to read it, and when the first person liked it, I was so ecstatic. I want to thank all the readers, rebloggers, and the ones who messaged me.

SMUT! SMUT! SMUT! SMUT!

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“Yoongs, can you zip my dress,” you yell from the bathroom. You wait, wait, and wait. You can't hear him anywhere in the apartment. “Yoongs?”

“I'm here, sorry,” he says, turning the corner and entering the bathroom and finally helping you do up the zipper. “Look at you. That dress is quite….clingy.”

“You don't like it,” you smirk and look over your shoulder at him.

“Oh, I do,” he said, kissing your shoulder. “Why don't we just stay home tonight. I'll show you just how much I like it.”

“Mr. Min,” you gasp. “You can't miss this event. What will Joon think if his partner isn't there?”

Yoongi did it. He finally gave into Namjoon and has officially become a partner in Persona. His role at the company didn't really change that much. He still wrote, produced, and had his quiet little sanctuary. He just had to wear a suit every now and then for meetings. You couldn't believe it when he said that he was going to buy in and be a co-owner. You asked why he had changed his mind. His answers were always vague. You wondered if he had something up his sleeve.

You, you loved your summer art program and learned so much. It was a lot of work, but it helped you grow as an artist. You were nervous about the art exhibition at the end of your program. Yoongi showed up happily supporting you. Your friends showed up, and your dad showed up with his new girlfriend. She was nice, and you enjoyed getting to know her, and much to your surprise, your mom showed up. You found out your dad had given her an invite. Yoongi didn’t want to leave your side when she showed up and made sure to cling right to you. You told him softly that you needed to be able to talk to her alone. He left reluctantly with Lisa and Jimin, giving you the space that you needed.

You noticed your mom looked brighter and was actually civil to everyone. She had complimented your pieces and asked how your program went. She then apologized to you and said that she was proud of you. She went on to say how she started therapy and needs to learn how to love herself again so she can love you properly like she always should have. She told you how she always had a dream to travel and take pictures when she was young but never had a chance since she married young and then soon after had you and your sister. She's now taking your lead and is going to go for it. You hear your sister is upset about this, now your mom won't be at her beck and call anymore. You unblocked her that night.

Yoongi had asked you if you would now finally apply to go to school full time. You surprised him by saying no. He wanted to argue, but you wouldn't let him. You loved your experience, but you loved him more. WIth his new role and your whole workload, you didn't have much time with him. You loved your job, and you loved your office with the parking lot view that you now shared with Seungkwan. You were happy to just do your drawings for you. You think you might open an Etsy shop or some form of online store and try to sell them one day…but not now. You were happy, and he finally conceded.

“Fine,”Yoongi sighs and kisses you. “Go get a necklace, and I’ll help you put it on.”

You roll your eyes at him and enter your bedroom. You stop dead in your tracks and look at the bed. There was a plate with rolls on it sitting on the end of the bed. You stare at it in confusion.

“What's this?” You ask him.

“Early birthday present,” he calls out from the bathroom.

You take the top roll off the pile and plan on shoving as much of it in your mouth that you can. However, you don't….you can't. Upon taking it, you revealed a black velvet box. One much like your ring currently on your finger came in. You can't move. You feel frozen looking at it. Arms come and wrap around your middle. Yoongi plucks the box from the plate and turns you in his arms, lovingly staring at you. He smirks and strokes the smooth skin of your cheek. Slowly, he drops down onto one knee. It's real, you realize. This is really happening. He pops open the box, and you almost faint as you see what's inside. A huge square cut diamond ring placed beautifully on its cushion. It's huge…huge, you think it's bigger than the one your sister had worn all those months ago. Is this why he finally decided to partner with Namjoon?

“It's been almost a year since I found you again. I never believed in fate but that night when I saw you again. That night changed everything, ” he said softly. You could tell he was nervous by the way his hand shook just a bit. “I don't ever want to lose you again. Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” you say quietly. He slips the ring on your finger, and it's a perfect fit. Throwing your arms around him, the two of you fall to the floor. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“I love you too,” he murmurs against your lips. Pulling back, he gives you a questioning stare. “You really didn't know about this?” You shake your head no. “Hmm, Lisa and Jisoo came with me to pick it out. I guess I owe her one for keeping a secret.” You laugh and kiss him again.

Jisoo, Lisa, and Seungkwan all coo over how gorgeous your ring looks on your finger. The diamond sparkles and shines under the lights of the hotel lobby where the four of you gather.

“I can't believe you guys kept this a secret!” You exclaim, looking at them.

“I didn't know,” Seungkwan tells you.

“That's because you have a bigger mouth than me,” Lisa snarks. “I'm going to find Jimin.” Blowing you a kiss, she struts off and leaves Seungkwan pouting.

“I’m going to go find Yoongi. I'm sure he's loving all the conversations forced on him right now,” you tell your other two friends, hugging them goodbye.

Yoongi hates these events. Industry insiders all kiss each other's ass to get something they want. It might be a charity event, but social climbing will come first. It's the worst. Fake smiles, fake laughs. You've had to fake awe and excitement over some big names before, and Yoongi loves you for it. Supposedly…..you're charming. You spot him engaged in a conversation with two unknown men. They were good-looking, of course, and you silently cursed your boyfriend…fiancée for being in this damn industry. When you reach them, you slide your hand up his chest, smiling at his guests.

“Sweetheart,” he says and widens his eyes a bit. You get it….game on. “This is Choi Seungcheol and Yoon Jeonghan. They own Darling Media, and they're looking to partner together for future projects.”

“Oh wow,” you gasp and giggle. “It's so nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all ours,” Jeonghan says, taking your hand and kissing the back of it. You giggle again, and it seems to do the trick.

“Yes,” Seungcheol says, clearing his throat. His eyes definitely did a once over, and Yoongi definitely glared a bit. “We found a new, talented artist who we think would be an asset to Persona.”

“Who,” Yooongi asks the handsome man.

“His name is Kai. I believe that he is friends with Jimin. I’m surprised you haven't scooped him up already.” Seungcheol explains. You try not to laugh, and you feel Yoongi stiffen. Out of everyone trying to make it in music, they found Kai. This is the funniest thing you think you may have ever heard.

“The famous model and commercial actor?” You asked with an excited smile on your face.

“Yes, that's the one,” Jeonghan answers. “ We have some great ideas for him, but we would like him attached to the record company first. Then, we can talk…maybe about long-term contracts?”

“Oh, Yoongi, they have such a good eye for talent. Kai is so handsome and talented,” you gush. You feel Yoongi pinch your butt kind of hard. Ow!

“Yes, my love, they indeed do. Why don't you give me a call on Monday?” He ends the conversation by handing them a business card. As they walk away, you wave coyly at them. “You think that's funny?” Yoongi hisses in your ear.

“It's hilarious,” you laugh, and Yoongi takes your hand. He gently pushes you to move forward, and the two of you walk toward the exit of the room. He pulls you down the hallway and into a shallow alcove just tucked on the other side of a statue. Your back hits the wall, and he leans over you. Trapping you in the small space as he places his hands on either side of your head.

“I'm not writing for him. Your boyfriend will have to find another company,” he snarls at you.

“Yes you will,” you say, sliding your hands around the back of his neck. “You will write him a hit song and make him very famous.”

“I’ll write him the worst song I can think of,” he says, bending down and capturing your lips with his. “I'll tank his career.”

His hands are everywhere, and his mouth attaches to your neck. Your head leans back against the upholstered wall. You can feel your hair go staticky Yoongi though, he has no care in the world that you are in public and some important people could catch the two of you. His hands start to creep under your dress, hitching your leg over his hip when someone clears their throat. Whipping around Yoongi hides you behind him. You pull your dress down and pat your hair, trying to smooth the static. You look over his shoulder, and your eyes widen. It's Mingyu…with your sister.

“Sorry,” Mingyu says, blushing. “Umm, I…we were hoping that you would be here Y/N. Your friend Lisa said she saw you come this way.” At least he has the decency to look embarrassed.

“Yeah,...I…i'm…here,” your voice is small, and you think you sound stupid.

“Min Yoongi,” Yoongi says, holding out his hand professionally. Mingyu smiles politely and shakes it. You see Yoongi clench his jaw a little as his eyes fly between Mingyu and your sister.

“Kim Mingyu, it's nice to meet you again,” he says as he introduces himself. Mingyu looks at your sister, and so do you. She looks around at the room, staring at the different paintings on the walls. Basically, she's just trying to keep her eyes off of you and Yoongi. Your eyes sneak a peek at her finger. She still has her engagement ring on.

“What can we do for you?” Yoongi asks stiffly, pulling you into his side. Unconsciously, you let your left hand rest on his chest, and you realize just how tense he was. You see Mingyu nudge your sister, and she sighs.

“The wedding invite we sent you came back,” she said, barely giving you a glance.

“Oh,” you say softly. “Oh, umm, I don't live at my apartment anymore.”

“That's good,” Mingyu says. “It was an honest mistake. We pushed it back to next fall after we had a little…chat.” He gives her another nudge, and she opens her clutch and blindly hands you a wedding invitation.

“We would love it if you could attend,” her voice was robotic, like she practiced that over and over again.

You look at the pretty invite in your hands and then look at Yoongi. He gives you a slight shrug. You know that he will go along with whatever you want to do. Mingyu smiles gently at you. You think that he has good intentions, and honestly, you don't want to ruin this relationship for her. Looking back at her, she's staring hard. Her stare is burning a hole right through the ring on your finger. Mingyu seems to notice as well.

“Oh, what a lovely surprise. When's the special day?” He asks.

“Umm, it just happened today. We really haven't had time to talk about it yet,” you explain. “Thank you for the invitation. It really does mean a lot but…I don't think it's a good idea if I come.” You look at your sister and say her name softly. she looks at you warily. “I'm sorry I couldn't be the sister you wanted but you're my sister and I still love you. Mingyu seems great, and I'm happy for you. I wish you all the best.”

“Thanks,” she whispers. Her eyes look shiny, but she quickly blinks them away, and you wonder if you imagined it.

“Well, it was nice to meet you again,” Yoongi tells Mingyu, shaking his hand again. “We have rounds to make and then home to celebrate.” Yoongi brings your hand to his mouth and kisses it.

“Goodbye,” you tell them and once again walk away with Yoongi's hand wrapped around your own.

The door to the apartment crashes open as you two stumble in lips attached. You almost fall, tripping over your feet. Yoongi is quick to catch you. He pulls his mouth from your own and drops kisses onto your neck.

“Are you sure you want to do this right now?” He asks, worried you might be upset about seeing your sister.

“Please, Yoongi. I want you…more than anything,” you whisper into the dark room.

Reminiscent of that fateful night almost a year ago, Yoongi picks you up, and you wrap yourself around him. Holding on for dear life, as he quickly gets you to the bedroom…your bedroom…the one you share.

Dropping you on the bed, he dives for your neck again as you lie completely back on the bed. You welcome all his kisses and touches that he gives you happily. Wet, open mouth kisses start at your ear and slowly make their way to your chest. Yoongi nips at the exposed skin of your cleavage. His hands take the fabric covering your breasts and tug it down just below your breasts, exposing you to the cool air of the room. You run your fingers through his dark, soft hair and gently pull, earning a groan from his lips. You look at him, and he smirks up at you with a heated gaze. Yoongi sticks his tongue out, and as you watch, he starts to rapidly flick your nipple. You close your eyes and arch your back a little up to him. You are hoping that he will give you more than that.

“Look at me,” he demands softly.

You open your eyes and watch as he takes your peaked nipple between his teeth, giving it a slight tug. You feel that familiar jolt shoot down your body. You try your best to rub your lower half against him to find some sort of friction for relief, but he won't let you have it. He chuckles and moves away just enough that you can't find what you need.

You huff and push him backward. He has to catch himself from falling off the bed, earning a giggle from you. You guide him down to your previous position and straddle his hips. Your hands fly to the buttons on his shirt, undoing them as quickly as you could. Upon finally getting it off, you brace yourself on his chest and press your mouth to his. His hand goes into your hair, holding you to him. Your tongues dance together, breathing each other in. Souls connecting.

Your hips start to move on your own, barely touching the hardness still caged in his pants. Unfortunately, the dress stops you from opening your legs as far as you need to feel him fully, and you let out a frustrated groan. Yoongi's hands fly to your dress and lift it up over your hips, bunching it at your waist. He grabs your waist and presses you down so you can rub against him the way you need.

“You need me that much, huh?” he asked, letting out a breathless chuckle. You nod your head and press kisses to his neck. “I always need you too, baby.”

You sit up on him, trailing your fingers over his exposed chest. Yoongi hands gently rub your legs as he gazes up at you as you smile down at him. You stretch your arm behind you as far as you can to pull the zipper of your dress down. Yoongi reaches up and pulls the front of your dress down completely. Exposing you further to his gaze. Sitting up immediately, he sucks your nipple into his mouth, and his hand massages your other. Your head tilts back as you hold him to your chest. His hands wander around you and travel up and down your naked back before attempting to pull your dress the rest of the way off down your hips. Due to your position, he is unsuccessful in his mission.

“Lie down for me, baby,” he tells you when he pulls away from you.

You bite your bottom lip and do as he asks. You watch Yoongi undo his belt and fling it across the room. You hear it hit something and fall to the floor. His hands make quick work on the rest of his clothes before they tug your dress the rest of the way off. Kissing your calf, he drags his tongue across your leg and up your inner thigh. Lightly, he bites at the sensitive skin, licking the red marks that he leaves behind. Settling down between your open thighs, his fingers toy with the inner hem of your underwear. His dark eyes flicker up to you.

“Tell me what you need, Y/N. I'll give you anything you want,” He slowly moves your underwear to the side, and your eyes never leave his. “The wedding of your dreams.” A slow lick up your dripping pussy. “A home to call our own,” A kiss to your clit. “I'll give you the world if you let me.” His tongue starts drawing lazy circles around you. Your breathing starts to grow heavy and your eyes threaten to close but you don't let them leave him. “What do you want, baby? What do you need?”

“Just you,” you whimper.

Yoongi smiles at you and pulls your panties off. Diving back in between your thighs, his mouth is relentless on you. Tongue flicking back and forth on your clit as his fingers seek entrance into you. Your back arches as he is successful and pumps two fingers in and out of you. Yoongi sucks your clit into his mouth, moaning around you. Your hands fly into his dark hair and hold him to you. You hold the back of his head desperately, trying your damnedest to get him as close as you could. Pulling off you, his fingers still work their magic working your wetness out of you. His mouth attaches to your nipple for a quick second before giving your other breast the same treatment. Grabbing his face you pull him down to your mouth. Lips meeting in a chaotic clash of tongues. A kiss full of want and desire. A kiss of craving. A kiss of pure unadulterated neediness.

“I need you now, Yoongi,” you say quietly against his lips.

He stares at you for a moment while biting his bottom lip. Fingers massaging your innermost spot. Bending down, he kisses your lips once, twice, three more times. Yoongi pulls his fingers out of you, and he reaches down and takes a hold of himself. Tapping the head of his cock against your clit makes your neediness worse. Your hips start squirming trying to get him into you and it only makes him laugh quietly at you.

“You need this, huh?” He asks, sounding just as breathless as you. You nod your head eagerly.

Running the tip along your entrance, coating himself in your wetness, Yoongi starts to slowly roll his hips. Entering you slowly until he is fully inside of you. “I've always thought about you. I had always wondered what happened to you.” His hips start to move at a calm pace. “If you ever found someone who loved you,” you shook your head at him and pulled him down closer to you. He allows you to, and he brings his weight on his forearms. “You didn't ever love anybody else?”

“No, I've loved you since I was seventeen. I've always loved you, ” you tell him honestly.

Yoongi presses a hard kiss against your lips. His hips pick up in pace, fucking you into the matress. You pull away with a gasp, pressing your head back into the pillows. Your hands grab his sides, fingernails slightly digging into his skin. He moans at the feeling and buries his face into your neck. The sound of his hips slapping against our own echo throughout the room, his panting breath in your ear. It feels so overwhelming, loving someone like this, making love like this. Something you could only feel with him.

Yoongi adjusts both of you. He moves to sit on his knees and brings your own to your chest, holding them there. You hear him gasp as he slides in deeper, hitting all the spots that make you see stars. This may not be your favorite position, but the noises he makes are worth it. You'll start stretching every day for those noises. You bring your own arms around the back of your knees, taking over for him. Pulling them back just a little further and closer together.

“Fucking, shit. Do you feel how deep I am?” he moans, leaning back slightly, his thrusts never stopping. The change in angle makes his cock hit your sweet spot over and over again. “Do you need more?” he asks, he sounds like he's struggling himself.

“Yes,” you cry out. Your cries become louder as his fingers rub your clit quickly. The tightening in your stomach winding so tight your body is wanting to get away from it. You feel that familiar heat that starts to take over, your skin getting flushed, heart pounding in your ears. Your core starts to tighten around him.

“There you go,” he hisses. “Let go, baby, let go for me.”

You do. You let go, You finally let go of all the self-consciousness, all the self-doubt. You let go of every insecurity that you have ever felt. There's a high-pitched ringing in your ears. Your body tenses up. You've never felt this pleasure before so deep. So, deep inside of you that you think you might pass out. You feel like you're floating, and you're not coming back down. You think you can hear him reach his end as he swears, but it sounds so far away and muffled. You feel so…high.

“Breathe,” you can hear a voice. “Y/N, baby, breathe,” it's Yoongi. You snap back to reality, spotty vision clears, and your eyes land on him. His dark hair is sweaty and sticking up in all different directions. He looks just as dazed as you feel with his mouth agape. He's breathing hard. He can't look away from you.

“You….came really hard…uh,” he tells you and looks down. You look down as well, and your eyes widen. He is definitely wet as is the bed, and…you don't think it's from him. While it doesn't look like it does in the few adult videos you've seen, you know exactly what happened. Your hand flies to your mouth in shock.

“I'm sorry, that's gross,” you say, turning red. “Eww…I…” Yoongi dives on you, crushing you with a kiss.

“ I can't wait to make you my wife, damn,” he says, going in for more kisses. Pulling you up out of the bed as he flings you over his shoulder. Yoongi gives you a quick slap to your ass laughing. “You better believe that's going to happen more often. Let's shower.”

“Yooonnnngiiiiiii,” you screech happily. Yeah, you finally let go. You're going to give him everything.

A/N: So, now that we have reached the end, I have an announcement. Thanks to the wonderful Anon who asked about drabbles, I had come up with a few ideas about the future of the characters. As of right now…….I'm about 4 loosely written chapters into a SEQUEL!!! However, I'm not super happy with the way it's going so….I think I will take my time and try to rewrite them.

Secondly, I was writing another story before I started the sequel. I have 6 chapters done on that one. I'm thinking I might drop a teaser to the Whispered sequel next week if I can get on a clear path of how I want it to go. So, everyone….stay tuned.

Tagged Reader:

@marimarvelfan, @unicornbabylover,@minghaosimp, @seoullove96, @iheartsvt, @babyitscoldoutside

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bonny-kookoo · 1 year

Text

Jungkook

TERRITORIAL. | Softcore

"Don't worry- I'll take it real slow with you so you know I mean it."

Tags/Warnings: Punk!Jungkook, Wolf!Jungkook, Good girl!Reader, Dom!Jungkook, Sub!Reader, Corruption kink, strangers to crushes to lovers, Fluff, Adult themes

+ Additional Tags/Warnings: none, some flirting?

Length: who's counting anyways

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

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"Damn, who's pissed in your breakfast this morning?" Jimin laughs, trying to joke- but it's clear that Jungkook is genuinely angry with his packmate, heated glare sent his way.

"I told you, you were being too mean yesterday!" Hoseok scolds, smacking the younger wolf on the back of his head. "Now you ruined jungkookie's fun last night." He mumbles, looking at the youngest apologetically-

Though the wolf sits up almost proudly, a sly smile growing on his lips as he chews his food.

"Looks like he still got his dick wet." Jimin laughs, making Jungkook growl.

"I wasn't out to get my dick wet you dog!" He argues, before crossing his arms. "Was just.. driving around." He shrugs.

"You." Taehyung raises a brown before he sits down at the table as well. "Just driving around." He continues, making the youngest roll his eyes.

"You act like I'm always up to something." He accuses, before his phone buzzes on the table, quickly snatched away by Jimin who grins brightly while fighting against Jungkook's reaching hands.

"Movie sounds great, do you have one in mind?" He reads the message out loud. "Oooh, Jungkookie has an actual date?!" He exclaims, before the youngest wolf can snatch his phone back.

"Shut up." He growls, before he gets up to put on his jacket and boots, turning around once more. "Don't fuck this up for me. Next time you see us, just shut your mouth." He requests awfully.. nervously almost, before he leaves, door closing behind him.

"You think he's found someone he likes?" Taehyung wonders, pulling Jungkook's leftovers toward him.

"Looks like it." Hoseok shrugs.

"Huh." Jimin huffs, leaning bag with an almost proud smile. "Would you look at that."

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Your apartment is cozy, small but very inviting, and most of all- it smells like you and you only, something that Jungkook enjoys a lot.

"Do you want me to dry your jacket?" You wonder, looking at him carefully taking off his wet jacket, since it's been pouring outside. Only now do you notice that, once he pulls off his beanie, it's the first time you see him like that.

Damn. Those tattoos really paint a full sleeve and some.

Not to mention the fact that his black sleeveless top hugs his body so tightly that it leaves almost nothing to the imagination- and in a way, that makes you a bit self-conscious. He seems like someone who works out a lot and often- would he think of you as less attractive once he notices you hide no defined physique underneath your clothes, but small rolls and chubby thighs?

Maybe. Maybe this is a bad idea.

Interestingly enough, it seems like Jungkook notices your change in mood- posture changing to appear less threatening to you, tail waving a little behind him to add to the appearance. It helps- if just a little.

"I mean- sure? If it's not a bother.." He answers your question, making you nod before you take the heavy jacket from him, glad to have something to distract yourself with.

"You can.. sit down? Or, I don't know- raid my fridge." You joke a bit stiff, before you flee the scene, hanging his jacket up in your little laundry room where your dryer has already warmed up the air, everything smelling of your favorite fabric softener. You actually sometimes take a nap in here, especially during winter- you're not sure why, but the smells and warmth offers you the bestest naps, especially when you sleep on your thick feather filled quilt.

It's an odd habit. Will he think you're weird if he finds out about that?

Once you return to your living room and kitchen space, you find Jungkook already looking inside the fridge, scanning the different snacks and drinks in there, visibly curious as his tail stands high. You can't help it, in that moment-

sneakily tugging just a little on the very tip, causing him to snap around, startled.

"Sorry!" You apologize immediately, shrinking back a little. "I- that was rude-" You start, when he wags his tail so much it smacks against the open fridge door, his laughter ringing through the small space of the apartment.

"No worries, was just caught off guard-" He reassures with a grin. "-you're really quiet. And those ears work really well!" He jokes, pointing to his pierced ear.

"Should I be louder then?" You wonder, reaching past him for a bottle of water. "So you can hear me?" You ask, and he looks at you for a second, before he chuckles, throwing his head back.

"You're so cute!" He barks out, before he closes your fridge, following you back towards your couch. And there, you sit as if you're being scolded almost- hugging your legs in the very corner, too shy to really be comfortable around him, and of course- he notices.

"What's making you uncomfortable right now?" He wonders, zapping through the recommended shows on your TV.

"Huh?" You ask, looking at him. "Nothing. I'm fine!" You laugh, though even that sounds more like you're just trying to pacify him, and it reminds him of one of his packmates' mates, back when she first met the whole group.

You're acting very similar. Intimidated, unsure where your place is. Trying not to step out of line.

"Hm, you're not." He chuckles, sitting back a little more relaxed. "Is it the tattoos? They're off-putting to some, my mom doesn't like them either." He chuckles, trying to ease the tension- something he craves out of pure instinct, because, considering his interest in you, he can't have his possible future mate be this uneasy around him.

He's supposed to be your person of safety and protection, someone you can and want to rely on- not someone you're scared of, in any way.

"No- not really." You shake your head, looking at them from the distance, noticing the colors and intricate details in some parts. "Just.. I don't know." You mumble.

"Is it the muscle?" He wonders, head tilting to the side a bit, and when you look away and adjust your position a little, he clicks his tongue. "Ah, please don't worry. I know how to control my strength!" He jokes playfully, but you shake your head. "No?"

"It's not.. that, at least not really?" You wonder, deciding that you better rip off the bandaid right now so it'll hurt less later. "You're just.. you look really fit, and I'm not. I'm lazy." You explain, without any demeaning tone thrown at yourself. "I don't really do any.. working out." You say, and he shrugs.

"Fine by me. It's your body, not mine." He offers, and you're unsure what to think about that statement.

Growing up, you learned from both your family and past friendships and relationships even, that every sentence uttered by mankind has some sort of second meaning. It created some sort of imposter syndrome for you in a way, as if every praise and compliment had some sort of background to it. Like you didn't deserve it- and people were simply too nice to tell you that blunt and openly.

So maybe it's not him saying that it's your choice and he doesn't mind it- but him saying that he's simply aware of the fact that he can't force you to do anything, but that he's glad he's not in your place. It's a far reach, and you know this- but the petty demon inside your head just won't shut up, ever.

Luckily however, the wolf next to you on the couch seems to have telepathic powers or something- or maybe he can smell your feelings? Because he immediately adds something to his words to soften up his statement. "The most important thing for me is that you're healthy and happy. I don't need anything else, really." He smiles encouragingly, and you shrug, before nodding.

"I guess." You just mumble, letting the awkward silence wash over you both while Jungkook chooses a movie, logging into his own account on your streaming service- something you notice. "You can just buy it-" You say, but he chuckles.

"Nop. Let me do that- I'd feel bad otherwise." He explains, buying the movie with his own money. So his last name is Jeon? You really didn't mean to look at it, but it's hard not to. It's when the movie starts that he leans a bit more onto your little sofa, opening his arms. "Can we cuddle?" He wonders, and you look at him a bit like a deer in the headlights. "I promise my friend down there will behave. I just wanna have you close- is that okay?" He wonders, and you shrug, unsure how to approach it.

Considering how long you've been living by yourself, you feel like you forgot how to properly.. cuddle at all. And it's like you just realize that right now- when was the last time you hugged someone? Held someone's hand? Or just sat close to someone else?

"You don't have to. I just.. wanna make you feel more at ease." He softly says, pausing the movie on the TV. "If you're not ready to be this close to me yet that's fine, and understandable. We can try another time-" He starts, but you shake your head.

"I just.. I've been living alone for a while now." You say, opening up at least a little bit. "I'm.. I don't know, it feels awkward now." You admit, and he nods, soaking up the info you give him.

"Alright, I can work with that." He smiles. "We can take it slow and easy, no issues." He shrugs, setting down his hands again.

And that's where they stay, as you both simply watch the movie-

Jungkook quietly leaving after you fall asleep, but not before putting a blanket from the couch over your body.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──💗── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

"I can't promise you they won't be weird-" Jungkook chuckles through the speaker in your helmet- a new one now, that you suspect he might've bought just for you, because it's a lot smaller and fits way better than the other one you've been given before. "-but I'll keep them in check." he reassures you.

"Are you like, the leader?" You wonder, unsure, and he chuckles again, stopping at a red light.

"No, I'll tell you who's who when we're there- I'm just a regular member, nothing more nothing less." He shrugs, one of his hands leaving the handle of his bike to rest on your thigh next to his leg, running up and down absentmindedly. "Is that okay? Or too much?" He asks, looking back for a second, though you can't see his face with the helmet covering his head entirely.

"That's fine." You say, genuinely meaning it- and you can't see it, but he's grinning brightly at this small step forwards, tail wagging. He's noticed you leaning against his back a lot more this time, slowly seeming to grow more comfortable on his bike, even so much so that you've begun to instinctively sit in the proper way to make driving easy for him.

And he also really enjoys you clinging onto him not in fear but comfort- but that's besides the main point.

The moment you arrive, everyone already standing around with their own bikes or by themselves, it's very clear that Jungkook's whole.. adventures with you has made the round. People are whistling and laughing, but it's also clear that it's just to tease him, and not in bad nature. You can even hear someone cooing when Jungkook reaches out to help you take your helmet off, bike standing secure on the kickstand, his own helmet already having been taken off. "Don't mind them. I'm the youngest of the pack." He admits, and you nod, smiling.

"You'll handle it, I'm sure." You agree, and he grins proudly, before he helps you get off the bike.

"Oh look at them, this is so cute!" Someone laughs, commenting probably on the fact that Jungkook had taken your hand in his to maybe offer you some extra security- something you appreciate.

"Please stop, you're scaring her off." He whines, as someone walks up beside you.

"Jungkook's right. Leave him be." A tall guy says, before he looks at you kindly. "I'm namjoon- not sure if he's told you already, but I'm the pack leader here " he offers, and you nod in greeting, smiling back. "I hope he treats you well- if not I'm gonna have to have a word with him." He jokingly threatens, making Jungkook roll his eyes.

"I'm treating her very well, thanks for asking." He snaps back, and you can't help but giggle a little at the banter they're both participating in.

Up close and personal like this, the whole pack of wolves doesn't actually feel all that threatening.

They're clearly playing around with him, teasing whenever he does anything considered affectionate towards you, and it's almost cute to see him glare at his friends for it. What makes you even happier is the fact that he doesn't mind being seen- he still makes sure you're always comfortable, checks in if you want to leave or if you're cold or if you're tired.

Right now, he's got you sat on his thigh, as he's sitting on the sidewalk- when there seems to be some tension rising, multiple wolves now moving to stand almost protectively in front of the rest. "Hey- stay here for a second yeah? I'll just check what's up." He says, helping you stand near his bike, before he leaves to do just what he said.

The way his tail suddenly rises, standing straight back, shows you that he's in an aggressive-defensive stance.

Somethings going on.

But it's resolved with simple glares from the pack, as Jungkook returns later to offer you your helmet. "Let's get you home, okay?" He says, and you nod, letting him help you with the helmet itself. "Don't worry, by the way. There's just some tension- and I'd like to.. not have you in the crossfire." He chuckles.

That's a nice thing to do, actually. He seems very much interested in your well-being, and that's new to you. But it's nice. Feeling like you're special.

Back at your home, he's helping you off his bike, taking the helmet from you- and you can't help yourself, as you unhook his own helmet with a click, before you slip it off his head, and lean in to kiss him.

It's a quick one, his helmet pushed into his hands as you run off into your home-

One look back making you laugh, as you see him frozen it appears like, tail wildly wagging behind him.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──💗── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

He's awfully cocky next time he visits you, instantly leaning down as you open the door to let him in. "What? Do I only get goodbye-kisses?" He complains, and you giggle, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

And he growls at that, though his wagging tail reassures you there's no anger behind it.

"You have to earn it." You say, and he glares at you.

"Isn't my giant crush on you enough?" He wonders, and you laugh.

"Maybe?" You shrug, putting on your jacket. "Well.. I'll think about it after the date." You tease and he grins.

"Well in that case, I'll be getting a ton of kisses after tonight." He beams at you, proudly so.

And you're sure of it.

He already earned himself quite a few.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook imagines

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andy-wm · 2 months

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https://x.com/jmnberries/status/1817503692083396934

LOUD AND CLEAR

Said by Jimin himself. He's searching for the person he's meant to be with, the one his heart is waiting for. He passes one person after another thinking is it you or you. And guess what ? IT WAS ALWAYS A WOMAN.

You and your theory about WHO proven wrong for 975939488848th time 😛

My goodness Anon, are you telling me my theory has been discussed that many times? That's quite an achievement! I didn't know my theories - or I - had such a far reaching impact.

[basking in the glow of this proud moment]

Ok I'm done basking, now back to the ask:

For those of you playing along at home, here's the tweet Anon sent in, for context.

Anon, I'm going to quote you, since you said it so succinctly...

"He passes one person after another thinking 'is it you or you'. And guess what ? IT WAS ALWAYS A WOMAN."

Absolutely correct Anon!

It WAS always a woman

I'm glad we agree on this.

You also said "He's searching for the person he's meant to be with, the one his heart is waiting for."

Yes! We agree on this too!

He's definitely working hard to find the one his heart is waiting for - you said it yourself, he's searching. He's actively looking for them.

We're doing well so far...

Oh but context is important here, right??

We should probably clarify that he's actually describing the last scene of the MV - the one he's about to film. He's not describing himself or his own life.

Yes, to be totally transparent, Jimin is describing a scene he's shooting for the MV of a song - a song he asked Jon Bellion to write. A song he himself didn't contribute to beyond that. He didn't write the visual narrative for the MV either, that was the creatives at Lumpens. No doubt he gave a lot of input but he didn't provide the material.

Did you forget that part, Anon? Or did you think he was actually describing his own life? Or... were you sneakily pretending he was talking about his real life when he said those things, because that suited your argument?

If you were trying to make it sound like he was talking about his own personal lived experiences, that kinda sucks. Because we love Jimin for WHO HE IS. We don't need to make shit up about his life and pretend things are real when they aren't.

We don't need to pretend, Anon, we can just observe, write about what we see - honestly and objectively and without judgement - and then step back and look at the situation.

I guess you might be wondering how come I'm analysing everything if I think we should just be talking about what we see. Fair call. I don't mean that we can't read between the lines or make educated (substantiated) guesses that we can back up with facts (and cite our sources - I am a librarian after all). I also don't mean we can't look deeper than the surface. There are always layers of meaning and hidden messages in the art produced for BTS. I get right into it because I enjoy it - my background is in visual arts analysis so it's kinda my jam - but I'm not just making shit up. I have a wealth of learning and experience I'm basing my analysis on. I'm also not claiming that it's fact - it's an interpretation - It's my interpretation (and just quietly I am pretty good at this stuff so it's a justified and plausible interpretation).

What I'm saying is don't purposefully misinterpret what you see to mislead, or to fuel an opinion or argument that doesn't stand up otherwise. If you have to bend the truth to back up your argument, you might want to reconsider that argument. Theory is built on evidence, not the other way around.

But back to Jimin...

Of course it's perfectly possible that he did spend several years thinking he would one day find true love with a woman. Maybe he dated loads of women. Maybe he came close to finding a deep love with one or more of them. And if he did, I hope those were happy times for him (or at least meaningful times if happiness was elusive). I would never think of denying that if I saw evidence of it, or judging him for who he loves (or loved). I don't think there's any wrong or right here - whether it's heterosexual or bisexual or asexual or gay or queer or into kink or poly or whatever else he is or does. Who he fucks or who he loves or who he feels emotionally safe with - and for many of us humans those are not necessarily even the same people - that's his business.

His life, his body, his business.

I don't judge Jimin. I just admire and celebrate him for who he is.

And I wish him happiness.

I wish them both so, so much happiness.

That's the whole point of all of this, really.

That's why I watch Jimin and Jungkook together, Anon. Not because I want them to be together or because I think they should be, but because I see real happiness when they are together.

True happiness and true love are rare and beautiful things.

I think that's why most of us Jikookers are here, Anon. Because the joy we see and the delight we feel, just from witnessing these two beautiful people being happy, is real.

I'm not saying ALL of us are altruistic. Some Jikookers are full of shit. They covet one or both of them and they think supporting Jikook's relationship entitles them to make judgements or assumptions or claims about Jimin and JK. They get possessive, they objectify, they demand things. Some people who claim to support Jikook have spite and hatred in their hearts... yes, we have our share of nut jobs too.

But the majority of genuine Jikook supporters I encounter are simply here to celebrate the greatest love story we've ever seen. We're here to get behind two beautiful men who clearly love each other despite the odds against them. We're here to bask in the reflection of their glow and it's bloody wonderful.

But, I digress....

Let's go back to the making of the MV for WHO...

Here Jimin describes the MV, just like when talking about the final scene. He says it's like a musical movie.

"Right now we're filming one of my favourite parts. It's like a musical movie." There's definitely a narrative here, it's the part where he joins 6 other male dancers, an obvious nod to BTS.

We already know there 's a narrative, but Jimin confirms it for us here.

So let's look again at the narrative:

Throughout this production we can see that the dance (not choreographed by Jimin) and the lyrics (not written by Jimin) have been created/chosen to show /tell us that Jimin (the performer) is searching among all these women for the love of his life.

THAT'S *PART* OF THE STORY THEY ARE TELLING.

But it leaves out a pretty big development ...

He was searching for love, looking at every woman just as he was supposed to, but someone (WHO?) crashed into his life and stopped him in his tracks. Yes, that someone fell directly into his path in a way that couldn't be ignored.

Jimin said

"I try to see WHO I'm meant to be with... is it you? Is it you?"

It doesn't sound like he was giving anyone much of a chance, does it? It sounds more like he was searching for someone in particular.

Maybe it was no accident. Maybe he was searching for WHO all along and he just didn't realise, until he found him.

Ok I am done talking (finally)

I'll finish responding to this ask so we can all go on with our lives.

To respond to your specific query, Anon:

Jimin doesn't say he's searching for a woman himself, does he? Not even in that quote you supplied.

He could have said "women walk past me" but he said "people walk past me".

He could have said he's trying to see which of these women he's meant to be with, but instead he said "who I'm meant to be with"

We can't ignore him saying WHO, Anon.

The song isn't called Which woman?

The song is called WHO

Anon, if you stuck with me all the way through this post, I commend you.

And yes, I was a bit facetious in the beginning, in my defence I had a shitty day at work. But I responded to you as the adult I imagine you to be, even though your language was a little on the childish side. I assume you were intending to piss me off but I enjoyed answering to your ask, so thank you regardless.

If you are still here I want to ask you a few genuine questions in return... I'd love to hear your honest answer.

Why, in the face of all the evidence, it's so difficult to accept that Jimin and Jungkook have a bond that goes beyond friendship or brotherhood?

They look like they're vey happy together, so why do you want them to not be together?

Why is it a problem for you if they love each other? Homophobia is learned behaviour. Who did you learn it from?

And probably my most burning question:

Have you ever experienced true, deep, lasting love?

#park jimin #jikook #kookmin #국민 #jeon jungguk #true love #jimin muse #bts jimin #jungkook #jimin who #who by jimin #muse by jimin

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personasintro · 1 year

Text

Mutual Help | #18

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭: @kithtaehyung

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, mature content

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢

Leaving your overthinking for the rest of the day has probably been one of the best decisions you've decided to make on this starting trip. You won't let yourself overthink all that stuff, not allowing yourself not to have fun and think through every Jungkook's action. It shouldn't matter if he did it to get Kiko's attention or not. You know her attention is subtly focused on the both of you, no matter how many times she's trying not to stare at you and act nice towards you. Maybe she just feels bad after you stormed at her, and you can't forget the fact that she's hiding something, according to Jungkook's words.

He told you how he wants to enjoy this trip, regardless if Kiko will be here or not. And she is, yet you can see him watching her whenever he thinks nobody sees him.

After all of you had fun at the lake, you let yourselves dry in the burning sun before it got too hot and unbearable, to change into clothes and play some sport games. Namjoon brought a soccer ball, which obviously led to a soccer game. At first, it was a men vs women game, which could never lead to a complete trouble free game. Surprisingly, you weren't bad as a team like you expected you to be. You were doing pretty good actually, to your standards and mutual strength at least. Unfortunately, and quite obviously, men were better and it seemed super easy for them to win.

"That was foul!" Minjae screamed at them, making sure they heard her across the huge soccer field that you made for yourselves.

"No, it wasn't. Seulgi stumbled on her own, Namjoon didn't even touch her." you told her, replaying the memory you just saw a few seconds ago.

"Y/N! You are supposed to be on our team!" Seulgi laughed, shaking her head at Minjae's attempt to save your already bad score.

Shrugging, you just sent them an apology smile. "I'm just honest."

Looking at Jungkook, you saw him sending you a flying kiss with a smirk, his way of thanking you because they just added another goal to their score.

Then you created a new team, a mixed team so all the men could finally play at least some kind of serious game. You, Jungkook, Jimin and Seulgi. The other team was Kiko, Hoseok, Namjoon and Minjae while Taehyung remained as a referee. Your team won, with Jungkook's energy and skills, you barely had to do anything other than to kick him the ball whenever it somehow stumbled in front of your feet. Regardless of that, you were still proud of yourself for winning, even though it was mostly Jungkook and Jimin's merit.

The rest of the day went like this and before you realized it, it was time for dinner while the sky was getting darker with each passing minute.

Now, the sky's completely painted dark with beautiful stars sparkling in the distance with sounds of crickets echoing through the space. Even the sound of fire sizzling and the warmth that spreads on your face because of it, is oddly calming. You take that moment to cuddle up to Jungkook, who's sitting next to you, with his arm over your frame pulling you closer. Stomach full, all you can muster to do is listen to everyone's chattering and laughter that slowly fades in the distance as you let yourself think. Your eyes automatically drift to Kiko, who's sitting obliquely from you, head resting on Hoseok's shoulder as he keeps laughing and nodding along to Namjoon's funny story of how he broke his sister's bathroom door.

"Hey, are you sleepy?" Jungkook asks softly, shoulder slowly nudging the side of your face as you frown.

"Kinda," you sigh, "But not really. I think the fire's making me sleepy." you admit, appreciating the warmth of it warming your face.

Even though it's July, it gets even colder at night than back in Seoul. It makes sense, considering you're surrounded by hills and more located to the South.

"You wanna take a walk?" he asks, your head lifting in interest as you look around.

"But it's dark." you point out, not seeing any lamps, well instead of the flashlights and disposable torches the boys had brought, that surrounds the space around you where you're camping.

"Oh, are you scared?" Jungkook nudges you with his shoulder again, shaking your whole body with the single movement as you roll your eyes. "Don't worry, I'll protect you." he promises, a cocky grin earning its place on his lips.

"I'm not scared, you moron." you tell him, faking annoyance and it still makes him chuckle at your attempt.

"Sure, whatever you say." he muses, teasing you but all you give him in response is another roll of your eyes and grin that can't be hidden anymore.

"Okay, let's go. But if we see or hear anything suspicious, we're coming back." you tell him, pursing your lips while you stare at him sternly, daring him to say something different.

His nose scrunches and he starts to laugh at you, but nods to your words nevertheless. "We'll take our phones with us and light up our flashlights on, you big baby." he says, jumping to his feet as he shakes his head to ruffle through his hair.

Big—big baby? The audacity!

Standing up, you dust your sweatpants and take Jungkook's hand that he holds up for you to take.

"We'll be right back. We're gonna just take a walk." Jungkook informs the group, making them nod in response before they barely pay attention to the two of you leaving.

They are too busy chattering while drinking beer and soju. Or at least it seemed like it because as soon as you're in the safe distance of not hearing them, Taehyung turns around and watches you walk further and further away.

"Do you think they're gonna fuck?" he asks, cheeks red from the fire but also from the amount of soju he's already drank.

Jimin cackles, telling him to stop drinking that much although, his own eyes drift to your disappearing bodies. What they don't see is the look on Kiko's face that makes her straighten and take a deep breath. It doesn't go unnoticed by Hoseok and he wraps his arm around her petite frame, pulling her closer as he presses his nose into her hair.

"You okay?" he asks her silently, making sure nobody else listens to him.

She looks at him for a brief second before her eyes focus on the flame of the fireplace Jungkook and you made. It's almost as if it's mocking her straight in the face. "Yeah, I'm sure." she assures her best friend, giving him a weak smile but he's not buying it.

"Kik," he sighs, but she just shakes her head in response.

"I'm fine, Hobi." she tells him and ends the conversation there, but still cuddles to him even more.

When he squeezes her, she feels at least some kind of comfort and is incredibly thankful for her friend. Hoseok knows, yet doesn't pressure her into anything and even if she's acting like nothing's wrong, he begs to differ but doesn't say anything. He shows his support with the stronghold he has on her body, silently telling her that he's there for her.

"What? I'm just wondering!" Taehyung exclaims, shrugging his shoulders innocently and the simple act makes Jimin snort.

"Stop wondering about your friends' sex life." Jimin reasons, hearing a loud snicker coming from Namjoon's mouth this time while Seulgi and Minjae busy themselves with stuffing their mouth and act like they're not listening to the conversation.

"Don't tell me you don't think they're shagging—"

Hoseok cuts him off by throwing an empty cup at him, perfectly aimed at Taehyung's forehead. "Shut up, Tae." he scolds him, but grins nevertheless to ease the tension that his reaction might have caused.

Taehyung frowns, rubbing his forehead as if the empty cup could've really hurt him but he listens. He closes his mouth and starts to bicker with Jimin, when he gives him another lecture about alcohol and his low tolerance.

"This is healing," you fill the silence with your soft voice, eyes focused on the moon lightening above your heads.

Jungkook follows your vision, humming in response before he looks at the lake that sparkle with the same reflection of the moon. "It really is," he agrees, "It's cold though." he chuckles, hearing you doing the same.

"Yeah, I thought it'd be slightly warmer. I hope we won't be cold while sleeping in tents." you voice out your worries.

"We'll just have to wear a lot of clothes. But if you're gonna be too cold, just tell me. We can sleep in the car." he says, making you smile at his thoughtfulness.

"How are we gonna fit there?" you chuckle, not being able to imagine the two of you trying to fit in the back of his car, even though his current car is bigger than the one he used to have. Or you could just sleep in front, but you surely won't get any quality sleep there.

"Then I'll sleep in the tent and you can sleep in the car." he shrugs, your mouth pouting automatically at his words.

You'd feel awful and guilty for sure if that happened. Sure, Jungkook is a big boy and probably doesn't get cold that easily, compared to you, but still.

"Jungkook, no." you shake your head.

"Or, we could just cuddle and keep ourselves warm." he pokes you in the ribs, causing you to giggle as you slap his shoulder.

Or, that's an option too.

"How are you feeling?" you ask, nibbling on your bottom lip when you're met with silence and Jungkook's steps halting until he stops.

"What do you mean?" he asks, brows furrowed in confusion.

Stopping too, you walk closer to him and lean against one of the trees that are near the edge of the lake. "Kiko's here." you point out, causing him to chuckle while he hides his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants.

"I'm aware," he laughs lightly, and you do the same because it's nice to see him not depressing over her. "I really wanna enjoy this trip, but I can't help but notice how close she seems to be with Hoseok."

And then you see it. Frown settles on his lips at the mention of Hoseok. Of course, he noticed how close they were and probably still are at the fireplace.

"They're best friends, Kook. You don't think they're dating, do you?" you cock your head to the side, a breeze slightly ruffling your hair.

"No," he shakes his head, frowning once again. "I don't know, something feels shady. They're definitely hiding something, I just have no fucking idea what it is."

The memory of Jungkook telling you about the possible secret that Kiko's hiding crosses your mind, but you're just as clueless as Jungkook is right now. You don't know them that much, but Jungkook does.

"What could she possibly be hiding from you?" you think out loud, thinking about all the possible scenarios that could've happened.

"Whenever I see her looking at me, or even when we were talking at Jin's wedding... I could see how guilty she looked," he says, deeply in thought. "I know her so well, I just know there's something more to this and Hoseok basically confirming that at Jin's wedding just proves my suspicion."

"Well, either way, she's not gonna tell you and neither will Hoseok. How are you planning to find out?" you ask, growing confused.

There's nothing he can do. The only thing is to get your little plan to keep going and finish it before some damage will be done. Surprisingly, playing Jungkook's girlfriend isn't hard so far. The two of you have always been more touchy and comfortable around each other, so none of this feels uncomfortable or foreign to you or Jungkook. Obviously, it all faded away and even stopped when he started to date Kiko which you understand. It was out of respect to her, even though she probably never voiced jealousy. That's what kind of gentleman Jungkook is.

"The only thing I can think about, considering her weird and suspicious behavior, and the fact she seems so fucking guilty about something... what if she cheated on me?" he says quickly, his brain processing his own words while he seems to be stunned he finally voiced out his suspicion. It makes it more real and now that he said it out loud, it makes much more sense.

But even to you, it doesn't make much sense. "You think she'd cheat on you?" you ask confusingly, knowing how Jungkook swore that she's the least selfish person he ever met.

"Argh! I don't know!" he exclaims, covering his face into his huge hands as he groans into them.

Sadness overcomes your features and your body moves on its own, hugging Jungkook's muscular body while you cuddle your face into his chest. His hoodie smells just like him, his favorite fabric softener and that sweet, yet muscular scent he always holds. Sighing, he hugs you closer to him.

"I don't think she'd, but what am I supposed to think?" he asks, voice muffled by your hair as he kisses the top of your head.

"She loves you, Kook. I don't think she cheated on you." you tell him, but he just shakes his head.

"We don't know that." he disagrees, causing you to chuckle as you slightly pull away and look up at him.

Your noses are almost touching from the proximity between you two.

"We don't, but I can see the way she's looking at you. She's trying to be so nice to me," you let out a dry chuckle, causing Jungkook to do the same thing, however his one isn't dry but almost loving at the mention of his ex.

"That's her." he adds, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes.

"But I just see the sadness in her eyes. I might not know her that well, but even I can tell. She doesn't seem jealous..." you trail off, looking back into his dark orbs that shine underneath the moonlight.

"You'll tell me when this gets too much for you, right?" he asks, your brows furrowing in confusion as you stare at him.

"Of course, that's what we agreed on." you remind him, surprised he brought up that topic.

He nods, bringing his back to your face as he gently grabs it and starts caressing the apples of your cheeks. Your eyes flicker shut, enjoying how soft his hands feel against your skin and you happily hum, making him chuckle but not stopping him. Nudging your nose with his own, you whine at his hot breath fanning your face.

"Kiss me, Kook." you whisper, having this sudden need to feel those plushy lips again.

You haven't kissed since you came here, which is quite surprising because you thought you'd, at least as soon as you saw that Kiko's here too. But for some reason Jungkook never insinuated a kiss.

But he listens to you now, kissing you by quickly connecting your lips as he holds your face even tighter. It feels needy and it strokes your ego that he kisses you almost as if he missed your lips. Well, you certainly missed his ones.

The moan slips out of your mouth as soon as the kiss gets rougher and he slowly backs you, until your back meets the tree again. His hands are everywhere, from gripping your hips to pulling up your leg and hooking it up over his hip to properly feel your thigh, all while he's still kissing you. Your own hands are occupied by nails digging into his hoodie before they trail down to his ass, giving him a squeeze. He smiles into the kiss, but still doesn't pull away. You're gasping for air, causing him to detach your lips but his own starts to work on your neck where he ducks your skin. You're moaning, head leaned against the tree while the wood is too harsh and uncomfortable, but you don't dare to move. Excitement overtakes you're whole body and with your leg that he's still gripping tightly, hooked over Jungkook's hip, you grind onto him. He groans, grinding back where you can feel his bulge. Through the countless amount of layers, you can't feel him the way your body craves to, but it's still enough to make you clench around nothing as you feel yourself getting aroused.

You grind against each other, desperately trying to get ahold of that pleasure and lust that clouds your minds and bodies, but the clothing you're both wearing and position makes it hard. It's not enough, unless the two of you would undress which isn't such a smart idea considering the weather. As if Jungkook thinks the same thing, he stops grinding against you and rests his head on your shoulder while his chest heaves with quick breaths. You're no different, long and loud breaths leave your mouth as you wrap your arms around his frame. Slowly, he lets go of your leg and steadies himself more before he fully straightens himself and grins at you.

"That's not what I was expecting when I asked you for a walk," he jokes, a loud snort coming out of your mouth as you shake your head at him.

It's always like that. You never planned for this to happen, it always just does. Naturally, and you like that because it doesn't feel forced.

"I wasn't expecting it too, but I'm not complaining." you grin, hands brushing through his fringe that got too long and keeps falling into his eyes.

"Trust me," he says, grin disappearing as a darkened look overtakes his already doe and dark eyes. He hovers over you, teeth nibbling on your ear before his mouth brushes your earlobe. "I'd fuck you here, if it weren't this cold."

Your breath hitches in your throat and you restrain yourself from reacting audibly, knowing he'll love that and tease the shit out of you later. You can't believe he just said that. Would he really do that?

"I wouldn't let you," you mutter, mustering a serious and tough expression where you raise your brow and purse your lips to prove your point. "Someone might've seen us." you reason, but the only thing he gives you in return is a loud laugh that makes you shush him straight away, a huge grin spreading on your lips.

"Who? There's nobody here." he says, outstretching his arms like he's the one who's proving his point.

"You don't know that, it's too dark to tell." you shrug, giving his chest a good slap when he smirks at you.

"Exactly, it wouldn't be too hard to tell if we're fucking or not."

"Oh my god!" you exclaim, hearing him cackling. "Just shut up, Jeon." you shake your head at him, hiding that huge grin again from him by walking past him and getting some safe distance from his dangerous and irresistible self.

"Oh, am I Jeon now? Thought I was Kook."

You hear him teasing you, before he jogs over to you and places his arm over your shoulders as he pushes you closer to his chest. You don't protest, not when he's incredibly warm and comfortable at the same time.

"Thank God, you're not my real boyfriend. I couldn't stand you." you grumble, teasing him as you poke his hip before you wrap your arm around his frame, holding him.

"Ah, you wish. I'd be the best boyfriend." he shoots back, making the two of you burst in laughter as you keep bickering and teasing each other for the rest of the walk back.

It just reminds you that nothing has changed. Well, apart from you get to kiss him— amongst the other stuff — now.

When you get back, you give Jungkook a last nudge to his shoulder before you detach yourself from his hip, looking at your friends. Taehyung wiggles his brows, cheeks flushed even in the darkness and you don't have to guess what caused it, considering the stupid amused grin he always has whenever he drinks too much alcohol. You're not the only one who notices it, Jimin tells him something but his best friend just shushes him and waves a hand in front of his face, telling him to shut up.

"You guys done?" he asks, wiggling his brows while staring at you before his eyes averts to Jungkook.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jungkook asks, confused, reaching for some dried seaweed as he munches on it.

"Ignore him, he's had enough." Jimin speaks up before Taehyung can open his mouth, frowning at his best friend's interruption.

"Where's everyone?" you ask, changing the topic since you've got an idea what Taehyung was aiming at. Whatever it could be, it's not something that should be said in front of Kiko, or anyone at this point.

The seats where Hoseok, Seulgi, Minjae and Namjoon were sitting are empty, and now that you pointed out their absence, Jungkook seems to notice their missing too as he starts looking around.

"They went to sleep," Kiko answers, cuddling herself to some fluffy blanket as she glances at you before she focuses on the flames instead. "I think I'm going too. Tomorrow is gonna be a long day." she says, letting out a chuckle but it seems forced and tired.

She stands up, still wrapped in the purple blanket as she bids everyone a goodnight before she goes into her tent, joining Seulgi and Minjae.

"Is she okay?" Jungkook whispers, glancing at Jimin who gives him a saddened gaze before he shrugs.

"She seems a little bit off, but I think it's just awkward for her to be here with you guys." Jimin explains, his voice silenced so everyone sleeping in the tents nearby can't hear you. He gives you an apologetic look which you just shrug off, knowing he's only telling the truth.

"She knew we were coming here, I suppose." you mutter, ignoring Jungkook's side glance before he sighs and grabs you by your shoulders.

"Well, we're going to sleep too. You guys, don't set anything on fire." he tells them, Taehyung already spacing out but still protests whenever Jimin tells him to go sleep.

It's clear Jimin doesn't want to leave him alone, something that wouldn't be a good idea in Taehyung's state. It's funny and cute how they remind you of your friendship with Jungkook. They have each other's back all the time.

"We'll try to," Jimin chuckles, patting Taehyung's head as he cuddles to Jimin's side. "Goodnight."

Approximately twenty minutes later, when you bid goodbye to Jimin and Taehyung, you and Jungkook are happily nestled in your sleeping bags. With a few layers of blankets that Jungkook brought underneath your bodies, it's softer than you expected it to be and you find it comfortable. The only thing that bothers you is the chilly air that makes you toss around as you're trying to keep yourself warm.

"Come here." Jungkook sighs, his own sleeping bag rustling as he pulls out his arms to pull you closer.

"What are you doing?" you mutter, silently humming as soon as you feel his warm chest pressed against your back. You're definitely warmer now.

"Cuddling you, obviously." he snorts, nuzzling his nose into your neck causing you to let out a silenced giggle.

With his large hoodie already on, the very one he brought you from his car as soon as you started to complain about the weather and being cold, you allow yourself to relax. However, Jungkook doesn't stop there and he starts kissing your neck, leaving soft and innocent pecks that make you bite your lip. You don't move, allowing him to kiss you some more while he rubs your body which is difficult to feel, since you're wrapped in your sleeping bag. Unzipping your sleeping bag, you ignore your body protesting by shivering from the temperature in your tent.

"You're gonna be cold." Jungkook murmurs against your neck, his silenced and raspy voice causing you to shiver again. Not from the cold this time.

"You'll warm me up." you tease, turning to your side so you can be closer to him.

He welcomes your hands on his chest as they get underneath his hoodie, feeling his hot and naked skin there. How can he be so warm when you're close to freezing? His toned abs are hard to miss and you wish you could just take his hoodie off, and see the piece of art. You've never been totally mesmerized by abs and muscular bodies, although it's a nice thing to look at. But everything changes when it comes to Jungkook. He's perfect, an amazing piece of man that makes every woman's heart flutter.

"You bet." he teases back, causing you to giggle as he pulls you closer, kissing you this time.

Your lips mold together, the feeling already familiar but never boring. It's something you could never get enough of, especially when he's so good at it. Two minutes of constant kissing and innocent touches, his own hands disappear underneath all the layers of your clothing when he finally finds your skin. Even the littlest touch of his fingertips make your body heat up, and you completely forget about the cold. He spends a few minutes just rubbing your stomach, his touch leaving soft and tingling sensation all over your body, before he hooks them under the hem of your sweatpants. Detaching your lips, you breathe out a shaky breath as you glance at Jungkook.

He's staring at you, dark eyes boring into yours while his hands disappear into your panties.

"Kook," you breathe out, "Guys are here."

And Seulgi, Minjae and Kiko too.

"They're all sleeping," he says, finger circling your clit as you bite into your lower lip to prevent yourself from moaning. "I checked when I went to take a piss."

Snorting, you let out a chuckle of disbelief. "Wow, that's so hot. Thank you." you tell him sarcastically, your words dying down when he starts to part your folds and slips one finger in.

"I'm honest," he tells you lightly, shrugging as if he's not fingering you right now. He pumps his finger, nuzzling his face to your neck as he starts sucking your skin there. "You love when I'm honest."

"Mhm," you moan, back slightly arching when his finger rubs against your sensitive spot.

"You love when I do this," he purrs against your skin, adding another finger as he curls them inside your tight hole that makes you whimper.

Goosebumps appear all over your body, your hips slowly grinding against his palm as he keeps pumping his fingers in and out. The sound of your wetness is muffled by your clothes, but it's still clear to your ears. It should be embarrassing how wet and hot you became just for him. Yes, the little make out that happened on your walk helped, but you both know it doesn't take a long for him to make you crave for his touch, pleading him for more.

"I do," you let out a choked moan, eyes rolling back when he adds another finger, penetrating your heat even more.

Your walls are wrapped around his fingers, swallowing them in with so much eagerness that makes Jungkook proud.

"You're so needy," he growls, grazing his teeth against your jaw before he kisses it. Your hands clutch onto your sleeping bag desperately, all while he lets out a dark chuckle. "So needy for my touch, for me."

You should be embarrassed because he's right. You tend to act tough, not necessarily in these kinds of scenarios, but still. Even Jungkook knows that and whenever he can stomp on the confidence and tease you, he takes the chance and does it. However, you don't feel an ounce of embarrassment. Agreeing with him, you nod and purr at the same time, body desperately meeting his hands as he picks up the pace.

"I am," you agree, voice strained as you try to control yourself. It feels good, so fucking good, but you don't want to cum just yet. You want to enjoy this for as long as it's possible.

"Oh, baby. You know all you gotta do is tell me and I'll give you everything you want," Jungkook feigns sorrow, knowing those words drive you crazy. He feels you clenching around him, your moans silenced by you biting a lower lip, and that's all he needs to be smirking. "I'd have fuck you against that tree, if you weren't scared someone might see." he whispers darkly into your ear, biting onto your earlobe.

It all happens quick, too quick for you to control it or cherish the way pleasure shoots through your whole body, while you're cumming. Your moans in the form of Jungkook's name are silenced by his mouth enveloping yours. As much as he wants to hear you, his name leaving your mouth repeatedly, he can't let anyone else hear you.

He fucks you through your orgasm, stopping when he hears you whimper from overstimulation. Pulling out his fingers, he puts them into his mouth and makes sure you're watching him when he does that. Your heat throbs, both at the sight and the euphoric feeling of your orgasm, yet you don't have enough. Especially not when you see him licking his fingers clean before he kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue and lips. He growls, hovering over you while his tongue attacks the inside of your mouth. Your tongues dance together, moving swiftly like it's the easiest thing to do. Hands disappearing under his hoodie, you let yourself feel his naked back moving forward to his abs.

He can't help it, you're too irresistible even if it's in a freaking tent and in the middle of mountains with his friends sleeping nearby. Maybe even that small fact makes him go feral, grinding his crotch against you. Getting out of your sleeping bag has never been easier, your hands busy trying to take off Jungkook's sweatpants while he takes off his hoodie, along with his shirt.

"Fuck, I need you." he says, before he kisses you again and helps you to take off your shirt. He's met with your exposed breasts, licking his bottom lip at your puckered nipples which he wraps his mouth around.

The sensation is amazing, his warm mouth warming your whole body all over again and just like that, you feel that same need to fill your pleasure needs. Jungkook's movements are eager, so eager that he tosses his sweatpants rather carelessly causing the piece of clothing to bump into the tent's walls. The tent shakes, causing you to giggle as he shushes you by his lips, chuckling into the kiss. He helps you to undress, making sure he heats up your body with his feverish kisses and constant rubbing of your exposed skin.

"Fuck me, Kook." you plead, nails grazing his exposed and muscular back he's flexing while he's hovering over you.

"Oh, I will," he promises, leaning down to kiss your collarbones as he makes up your neck and jaw. "But you need to be quiet, yeah?"

His voice is low, sending another set of shivers down your spine as you gulp, pressing your thighs together.

"I thought everyone's sleeping." you mutter, teasing him with eyes but you don't show it on your face, too focused on him to even lift the corner of your mouth in a smirk.

"They are," he nods, hands disappearing between your bodies as he spreads your legs and cups your heat which is still wet with your cum and another arousal. You're soaking wet, you can feel it slowly trailing down your ass and staining the unzipped sleeping bag underneath you. "But we don't wanna wake them up." he smirks, his eyes dancing in amusement almost as he's teasing you for being loud.

Oh, he certainly is. As soon as realization hits your face, he smirks even more while pulling away. Your eyes drop to his covered crotch, noticing an evident bulge that's growing with each passing minute. Unfortunately, your sight is dismissed when Jungkook starts to rummage through his bag that he put in the corner of your tent. He pulls out his wallet before he successfully gets the condom. When he turns around and meets your gaze, he sees your raised brow.

"You brought condoms?" you question, wondering if he planned on having sex here.

You sure didn't, not that you're complaining. But you're curious and you love to tease him whenever you get the chance. His doe eyes that were darkened just a few moments ago are completely switched to a wide eyed Jungkook, making look so innocent and young that it makes your heart jump.

"Well, not purposely. I always have them in my wallet." he explains, voice sounding soft all of a sudden.

His lips are set into a slight pout as he stares at you, looking wary for some reason. Little do you know it's because of the exact thing you're teasing him about. He worries that he just planned on having sex, even though there wouldn't be anything wrong with that. You both agreed on this, you two fucking. But still, it doesn't sit well with him knowing you might think he planned this. You're a beautiful woman, it doesn't take long for him to resist you. But you're his best friend before you're someone who he has sex with. He really wanted this trip to be about adventure and great memories, and he kind of let it go naturally. Whatever feels comfortable for you and everyone else. He definitely didn't expect Kiko to show up here, even though this exact topic occurred his night thoughts that made him wide awake for the most of the night.

"It's okay, Kook," you giggle, sitting up as you reach for him. "I'm just teasing you." you assure him, seeing his tensed muscles relax before he scoffs.

"Screw you." he murmurs, grinning as he opens the wrapper by opening it with his teeth while his other hand is too busy pulling his length out.

Taking off his boxers, your mouth salivate wishing you could see him instead of being met with his outline. Judging by the way his hands move and body rustles against the blankets, you know he's giving himself a few pumps before he puts the condom on.

"You're about to." you fill the silence, smirk audible in your voice as he chuckles and gets closer to you.

Adjusting your positions, so he's nestled between your legs, he gives you a kiss and lets his mouth stay on yours while he slowly fills you up. You know it's his way of shushing you, knowing you'd most likely whimper at the sudden stretch of his hardened length. The both of you are trying not to get caught after all. When he's all in, he detaches your lips as he leans his forehead against yours waiting for your signal. As soon as he registers the small nod and little 'go on', he pulls out slowly before he smashes in his way back. With each thrust he makes, the harder it gets to control your moans and even though you've never been that awfully loud, no matter how many times Jungkook teases you about it.

Your legs starts to hurt from the missionary position and with a quick squeeze of his bicep, Jungkook slows down and questionably tilts his head. Without saying a word, your palms sprawl against his chest as you push him while sitting up. He gets the message, laying down immediately while he slips out of you in the process. Hovering over him, you let your legs to rest against his side while you grab his length. Pumping him, you wish you could see that lustful glint in his eyes and the vulnerability that he doesn't show that often:

"Baby," he moans, hands gripping your hips.

Chuckling, you position him against your entrance before you sink down onto him, your eyes rolling back at the pleasure and stretch.

"Fuck, so tight." he groans, nails digging into your skin the entire time he fills you up. He doesn't stop even when you start to ride him, setting up a slower pace that makes less sounds. Nevertheless, the sound of your thighs meeting Jungkook's can't be manageable and it's clear to your ears.

With Jungkook's help, he starts to roll his hips into yours as he meets your thrusts, sending another wave of pleasure through your body with different intensity. It feels amazing, his length so deep inside of you, all while he keeps hitting your g-spot. Slowing down, you circle your hips as you kiss him. You really want to savor every minute and feeling he makes you feel, you don't want to cum just yet. Jungkook is in no rush, kissing you back slowly as he lets you take control. He lays there, enjoying the way you move your hips. After kissing for a few minutes, you start to pick up your pace which becomes tougher, considering how long you've been in this position. Your thighs already ache from the stretch, but thanks to Jungkook who notices your struggle, he starts to meet your thrusts like he's done before.

Everything is slow, yet sensual and intense. It makes your head spin and your heart swell with foreign and wonderful feeling. You can't go all wild, knowing there's everyone just a few meters away from you while you're surrounded in complete silence. But even without this little fact, it still feels right. Maybe it's because you're both lazy and sleepy, just wanting to enjoy the pleasure and something different. If you knew better, you'd say this is how making love feels like.

You almost slap yourself at that, knowing you're nowhere emotionally near that. But it feels nice to have him this close, it's different from the sex you had before.

Considering you've had an orgasm and your walls are still sensitive, you feel yourself tightening as your arms fail you and you fall onto Jungkook's chest. He takes over, still laying underneath you as he grabs your hips and starts to pick up the pace. Even from his submissive position, you may say, he's able to take control and hit all the right spots within your walls. Hands gripping your ass, he spreads your ass cheeks while his nails dig into your skin again. It's the first time tonight when it feels, what can be considered, as a rough move.

"Kook," you whimper, mouth pressed against his shoulder with eyes screwed shut, as you feel another orgasm approaching you.

"Shhh," he reminds you, letting out a grunt when he sets an almost animalistic pace. His balls smack against your ass, the sound already too loud to be heard outside, but you don't stop.

Pleasure washes you all over again, your mouth ready to leave the loudest moan as your whole body shakes. What you do comes naturally, in the desperation to silence your moans, and you gently bite onto Jungkook's shoulder while he keeps fucking you.

He grunts, your teeth digging into his skin although, it's nothing unbearable or too painful, but it shocks him. Few more pumps and he's coming into the condom with a silenced growl. His thrusts get sloppier with each second, before he completely stops and his length starts to twitch. You wish you could feel him cumming inside of you, despite the littlest feeling of him filling the condom, it's nothing too recognizable. When he's done, he sighs and drops his head down while he hugs you closer to him. His arms leave your ass and they wrap around your frame, gripping you tightly making you giggle.

"Fuck, that was amazing." you comment, pecking his shoulder where you bit him. It's too dark to see if there's any mark, but you hope not. You made sure you weren't biting him too hard.

"Yeah," he breathes, chest heaving with harsh breaths while his length starts to soften. "That was... different." he chuckles, hands gently caressing your back that makes you hum.

"I could fall asleep like this." you murmur against his neck, cuddling to him even more.

A soft chuckle leaves his mouth, his hand gently slapping your ass. "No, you can't sleep now. You gotta pee and put some clothes on, you're gonna get cold like this."

He's right, now that your lust has been fulfilled, you can already feel the real temperature in the tent. Your skin is no longer hot and that same rush of heat that came with each moment of pleasure is gone. Even though your body still tingles from the intense orgasm, it's just not enough to keep you warm anymore.

"Nooo," you whine, cuddling to him even more while your perked nipples rub against his chest. He bites his lower lip, cringing when his length slips out of you and you whine again. "Can't you just cover our bodies?"

You try, knowing you're just teasing him and you'll be shivering any minute. Jungkook groans at your stubbornness and you smile.

"No, now come on. Go pee." he slaps your ass again, making you jerk as you pull yourself up and stare at him.

"What if something's out there?" you ask, simply out of curiosity and maybe out of fear as well.

"I'm going with you, big baby," he grins, rolling his eyes at you that you can't see. He's sitting up, hoisting your bodies in the process. "But we need to put some clothes on."

Sighing, you put your clothes back on, cringing when your juices meet the material of your panties. Regardless of that, you fully dress yourself and let out a hum of content when you're warm again. Jungkook does the same thing, disposing himself of the condom full of his cum as he makes sure he'll throw it somewhere safe. You're both stumbling out of your tent, seeing there's no one awake and there's complete darkness around you. Good.

But still, when Jungkook lights up the flashlight on his phone, you're both grinning at yourselves and you just know, you're going to be sleeping heavenly tonight.

#networkbangtan #ksmutclub #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts au #jungkook fic #personasintro #mutual help

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lo1k-diamonds · 2 days

Text

Stellar Behavior 💜 Part 1

“What is worth an innocent’s life? You decide.”

PAIRING: Officer!Yoongi x Mafia (f)reader

SUMMARY: Yoongi has been in the police force for long enough to know that the system isn’t perfect, so when an injustice is about to put his protégé in jail, he has no other choice but to go to you. You’re the devil, but you’re hard to resist, and he needs to decide between falling into temptation or showing you that two can play the game.

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

GENRE: Gangster AU, Law AU, enemies to lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: corruption, power dynamics, blackmail, threats w/ a knife, slight degradation, sexual favors, oral (f rec)

A.N. I'm soooo excited, this fic is 🔥 Infinite thank yous to @moonleeai and @downbad4yoongi for working through my crazy and being incredible! Enjoy 🔥🔥

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | Next Chapter >

Yoongi huffed and threw his eyeglasses onto the keyboard, rubbing his eyes so roughly he saw lights. It was no use; no matter how much he went over the evidence, again and again, he couldn’t change it.

“Hyung.”

He uncovered his eyes, only to be met with Taehyung’s sadness. His shoulders sagged from the sleepless nights ever since Jimin had gotten arrested, with dark circles bringing even more desolation to his otherwise heavenly features. He knew it wasn’t Taehyung’s intention, but the sight only unnerved Yoongi even more.

“Go home, get some sleep.”

Taehyung flinched, “But—”

“That’s an order, Officer.”

Taehyung stiffened and instantly bowed and showed his respects to his Superintendent before turning and leaving. Only then did Yoongi heave a deep breath and observe around him. It was weird seeing his department at the police station empty, without the officers at their desks taking calls or doing paperwork while on one of their 24-hour shifts. But they had all been shaken up, and so he had sent them home.

He was proud of his Division, and as their Chief, he couldn’t be more certain of everyone��s conduct and character. This included Jimin’s, and it was the reason why he was losing his mind over this case.

No matter how much he reviewed the footage and evidence, there was no mistake — Officer Jimin had seemingly shot his partner dead during an arrest gone wrong. This was a natural conclusion, judging by the body camera of the now deceased cop, Officer Junghee, that had captured Jimin nearing him with a fuming pistol in his hand. One that matched the ballistics report on Yoongi’s desk.

This was why the prosecution wanted to charge him with manslaughter at the very least, but Yoongi could not be convinced. The body camera also captured the panic in Officer Jimin’s voice and expression as he tried to save his downed partner. Yoongi didn’t care if that was Jimin’s gun or if it was fuming in his hand — he didn’t believe it.

“It wasn’t me!” The words Jimin shouted as he was arrested conveyed an absolute world of hurt and combined with the shock in Jimin’s eyes was seared into Yoongi’s retinas, causing him to dig the heel of his hands into his eyes again. But no matter how much he attempted to change the image, it wouldn’t. Jimin, his protégé, was still being handcuffed and taken away while begging, “I didn’t, you have to believe me! He put it in my hands! Hyung!”

Yoongi nudged his eyeglasses off the keyboard, locked his computer, and grabbed his coat. On long nights like these, he didn’t bother staying in uniform, only wearing black pants with a white shirt and his badge and holster belt. He made his way outside and got into his car, acknowledging whoever he met along the way. Temperatures were freezing, and his car didn’t start immediately. He reached for his nicotine gum while he waited for the car to warm up. When it finally started, so did the 3 AM news on the radio right as he left the parking lot.

“In a shocking revelation, an officer from the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency shot his partner dead after pulling up to a suspicious vehicle in Dongjak District. The mounting evidence is undeniable, and the prosecution is discussing the potential penalty in such a case, with the spokesperson revealing in a press conference that while mistakes happen, justice needs to be served.”

Yoongi kept chewing and driving as the prosecutor’s voice echoed through the speakers. On the outside, Yoongi was the picture of calm, cool, and collected, but inside, he was fuming. He had spoken with the prosecutor many times, who preferred a clean-cut arrest to build his case to run for whatever political role he was after rather than fight for justice, as he claimed. Yoongi had always known that multiple interests abound in the justice system, but now he was starting to get pissed.

When he parked the car, he looked outside through the windshield, observing quietly as the people moved in and out of the Aether. The bouncers kept drunks at bay, and despite the booming music and the flashy lights, everything looked normal for a nightclub.

He removed his belt and badge, shoving them in the glove compartment so hard that something fell out. He reached to grab it from the floor, his frown instantly turning into a scowl. It was a photo of him hugging a woman, laughing, taken many years ago when they were still happy. When they were not even married yet, let alone divorced.

He got out of the car and ripped the photo into as many tiny pieces as possible, dropping the scraps in a trashcan along with his gum. Then he stopped in front of the bouncers with his hands in his pockets, saying six little special words.

“I want to see the boss.”

The first bouncer just scoffed a laugh and shook his head, but the second one eyed him from head to toe, “If you’re here to inspect, then you have to identify yourself first.”

“Not an inspection,” Yoongi said nonchalantly, glancing around. “It’s not an official visit.”

The smirking bouncer kept the flow of the people going in and out while the serious one, resembling the first almost to a T, pressed his earpiece further into his ear, waiting for orders. Yoongi had noticed the cameras already while he was walking up, and he wondered how long it would take for them to know exactly who he was and why he was there.

The serious bouncer moved closer to him, “Are you armed?”

“No.”

“I have to make sure.”

Yoongi glanced at him, then nodded, raising his hands as he let the man make sure he was unarmed. When the tall man rose from his knees after checking Yoongi’s ankles, he lowered his arms and waited for the goon to catch his breath.

“Alright, you can go in.”

He moved past the bouncers and into the entryway, but he hadn’t even made it to the coat check when someone approached him. Just by the light clothing, styled hair, and badge hanging on his belt, Yoongi could immediately tell that the man worked there.

“Follow me.”

Yoongi wasn’t there to sightsee, but he could appreciate the columns and marble structures and statues. Along with the paintings, velvet curtains, and carpets, it made the Aether look like a temple or divine abode of the Gods. The aesthetic intensified as they went up the stairs, but he didn’t have time to register much. In a second, he was walking into what appeared like an ordinary office — a pleasant space with a large desk at the center in front of huge dark windows that showed the lights flashing from the dance floor. He ignored the liquor table, the cabinets with files, and the black velvet sofas to the side. What his eyes were immediately drawn to was you — you who had pushed the large computer screen to the side so you could watch him come in. Your chin rested graciously on your intertwined fingers, with your elbows on the desk, eyes flickering with amusement, watching him through dark curled lashes. He hadn’t even noticed he had walked to your desk or that the door had closed behind him, but then you stood up, letting your delicate arms fall alongside your tight black dress. Your black, straight hair slid over your shoulders, framing the plunging cleavage of your dress, and when you smiled, he felt hot—molten hot.

“Welcome, Superintendent,” you smiled with a glint of amusement, your perfect teeth shining in the overhead light, and he clenched his fists behind his back. “Or should I say Yoongi? I was told you weren’t here in an official capacity, but…” You eyed him from head to toe, and he did his best to stay poised and calm. “You don’t look like you’re here to club.”

Yoongi was already sweating, not out of nervousness but because of you. Because you always eyed him like you owned him, always had a hint of mischief to every smile, and were always as elusive as a ghost. One he couldn’t catch and had grown tired of running after.

Still, hearing his name in your mouth for the first time… made him pull on the collar of his shirt, “Not here to party; I’m here on business.”

Your eyebrow twitched, and he looked at you seriously; you were a cunning fox of the worst kind. Worse than a weed, than a pest, than the bloody smoke still hanging in the air and making his fingers twitch. He had a simple goal, and he had to stay focused.

“Not an official visit, but you’re here on business…” you mused out loud then shrugged. “Soon, it will be four in the morning,” you revealed with a hint of disdain as you neared the table that held liquor in crystal decanters. “Surely, if you wanted to do something official, you’d wait at least three more hours?” You chuckled as you poured a finger of whiskey into a glass. “Want some?” He shook his head, and you shrugged again. You made your way back to your desk, but instead of going around it, you perched on the side of it, close enough for him to see your dress parting, giving hints of your upper thighs, “What can I do for you, Chief?”

Yoongi had nerves of steel; he ignored the lush skin of your thighs, the cleavage, the numbing sound reverberating through the walls, the dimmed lights, and the way your eyes seemed to challenge him with every blink.

He focused, “I want your help.”

Your eyes widened comically, the image of innocence and confusion, “Mine? What could such a powerful person need from me?”

Thankfully, your coy attitude irritated him and helped him concentrate. “I know the suspicious car they were chasing was one of yours.”

Your eyes widened even more, but this time, you brought your glass to your lips to hide a smile, “My, my, Officer. I know I have many cars, but to say I was a fugitive—”

“You know what I mean,” his jaw clenched, and you licked your lips.

“I don’t,” you could only smile, and he clenched his fists again. There it was. It pissed the fuck out of him. “Are you going to arrest me, Chief? Make good use of those deduction skills of yours and put pretty handcuffs around my wrists?”

He hated that his heart jumped in his chest as you whispered salaciously and leaned into him, shortening the distance between you. He hated how tempting you looked, and he hated the way your eyes fixed on his, as if you were ready to follow suit with your provocation. You were probably a tease like that with everyone all the time. It pissed him off even more.

He only blinked, ever the master of showing a relaxed demeanor, “I have no evidence to arrest you, nor am I here in that capacity.”

It instantly hit him, as you straightened your back and finished the drink in your hand, that he was going to have to ask for your help. Not outsmart you, not convince you, not squabble with half facts and hunches — he needed your help and that meant he had to come down off his pedestal.

“My— An officer from my team will be sentenced for something he didn’t do. I’m out of options; I’ve hit a dead-end.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you put down the empty glass, “Don’t tell me — the system he holds and protects with his life won’t even try to prove his innocence.”

His jaw clenched; he hated that you weren’t completely wrong. “I’m trying to prove his innocence.”

The corners of your mouth twitched in a smile. “What makes you think I can help?”

He kept his mouth closed for a thoughtful moment. There was no use in accusing you again. Your smile wasn’t sly, so he decided to go for it. “You’re one of the biggest players.”

“Me?” You acted surprised, “I just own a few businesses here and there…”

“They say you’re the one to contact for information.” You tilted your head, and he insisted, “Even if that wasn’t your car, you’d know about it because it was on your turf. You’re you. I just know you know something that can help us solve this.”

That answer seemed to satisfy you because your lips and eyes revealed a small yet genuine smile that caught his breath. It made him realize he was leaning towards you now, exposing himself like that, but he couldn’t bring himself to hate it. Not when you looked at him like that, feeding into his hope.

“Say I do,” you started, eyes fixed on his. “Say I have evidence that could exonerate Officer Park.” He snapped straight; he had never told you the name of the Officer, and the media didn’t know it either. Yet what got him were your words, “Why would I help you?”

He clenched his jaw so hard that his teeth clicked. He just about growled with the way irritation mixed with his desperation, making him reel.

“Come on, Chief. Talk to me,” you pressed, wanting him to push through both the shock and the stick up his ass. “You must be desperate enough if you’re asking for my help, and I’m not denying it. I’m saying I might have what you need. What would you do to save an innocent from prison for life or worse?”

He didn’t think, “You have it? Something that could undeniably prove his innocence?”

He knew before he was done asking that it was impossible and that he was acting crazy. Yet, you leaned into him, meeting him halfway, your breath hitting his chin, “In those exact words? I do.” You sat back and let your words sink in, not knowing they gave him a full-body shudder. He always knew you were powerful and had your ways, but holy shit— “What do you have that I want?”

He opened his mouth but instantly closed it. Objectively, he had nothing. But maybe there was something he could do. First, though, he needed to know it was real. “What evidence do you have? Show it to me—”

“Hmmm, no,” you pressed your lips and twisted your nose, displeased. “That’s not how this works. This is based on trust. Besides, you don’t seem to have anything to offer.”

For a split second, he wondered if you were bullshitting him, but he honestly didn’t care. He had to do something. “You want something concrete for a maybe?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” your tone hardened as your expression lost humor.

“Alright, name it. Tell me what is worth your help.”

His tone was soft, and it worked to soothe you. His dark eyes helped; there was so much willingness in them, and you liked that. The man there asking for your help to correct an injustice was the kind of man you were looking for.

“Since you asked,” you cheekily started, pulling your hair behind your shoulders. “I want three things.” He didn’t even blink, so you continued, “The first is a favor. Of my choice and at my discretion whenever I shall need it. The second is for you to get on your knees. And the third is for you to eat.”

He blinked, “What?” He looked down to follow your hands over your thighs, and you spread your legs for him, though the black dress covered between them. He shook his head in bewilderment, “You’re crazy!”

“Crazy?” You chuckled, “I think I’m being quite reasonable.”

“You— Do you hear what you’re asking?”

He sounded breathless and could feel the heat on his cheeks, which was not ideal. He almost managed to step back, but a quirk of your eyebrow kept him still — he needed that evidence.

“Oh my, Chief Min. Are you getting heated at the thought of a couple of favors?” He scoffed, and you continued your tease, “Or is it the knees? Too proud to beg?”

“No, not too proud,” he mumbled between teeth. He was ready to kneel on the floor and beg, and the heat rising in his neck told him the rest wasn’t a problem either. And that was the problem. “The favor—” He cleared his throat, scratching it, “What is the favor?”

“I don’t know yet,” you shrugged, and it seemed to him like it didn’t matter. He knew that couldn’t be true, that had to be what you were really after — something specific from the Superintendent of the Seoul Metropolitan Police. And yet your eyes were shining in such a way that he almost forgot who you were. Almost.

“Something illegal, no doubt.”

You sighed and he took the moment to let the anger cool him — you were a criminal about to use his good intentions to surely accomplish something even worse. Instead of cooling him, irritation made him snap his knuckles and shift on his feet.

“I don’t know what it is, but it shouldn’t matter,” you said more coldly, squinting your eyes. “What is worth an innocent’s life? You decide.”

There was a hint of impatience in your tone that only riled him up more. He turned to you, “What’s stopping me from just—”

“You’re not that stupid,” you interrupted, raising your chin. His eyes noticed the surveillance cameras and you smirked, “They’re not who you should be concerned about.”

Your smile was predatory but he scoffed. You didn’t need to threaten him, and he didn’t like the coercion. He refused to look at you for a moment, giving you the impression that he was weighing his options. In reality, he was figuring out what angered him more — the fact that he was about to make a deal with a devil like you, or that he was that turned on from it.

You huffed and got off the desk, your heels clicking on the floor like a timer had just gone off. “Never mind—”

He grabbed your arm to keep you from walking away, and in a second, something sharp was poking his lower stomach. You both froze in place, your gaze angry and fixed on his, while his heart raced inside his chest. He didn’t let go of your arm, and you didn’t lower your knife.

“I never heard a yes from those pretty lips, so…” you spoke quietly, then pressed the blade harder. “Hands off.”

He knew you could put your money where your mouth was, and that if you wanted to kill him and get rid of him, you would. Yet, his grip didn’t lessen as he observed you. He was still trying to figure things out — not what to do, but you. He hated you objectively; you represented everything wrong with the world. Jimin was innocent; you shouldn’t be bargaining for his life, you should do the right thing. But you weren’t, you wanted to play with fire. Maybe even to get burned.

“What is it…” he started quietly, still eying your angry eyes. “Is it the risk? The humiliation? The footage for blackmailing me later? The power over a figure of authority?”

You scoffed, leaning in to answer just as quietly, “No risk, Chief. The footage might be insurance, but you’re a man of your word. No power over you because you’ll be doing it willingly. And no humiliation,” you chuckled. “It’s a privilege to eat at this table. Although…” You looked down, then smirked. “I can play if that’s what you like.”

He looked away from your eyes for the first time and almost flinched; his pants had a tent. He couldn’t even think; why was his body betraying him like this? He tried pulling away and letting you go, but you pressed the tip of your knife harder.

“Nuh-uh,” you whispered, taking a deep breath a little closer to his neck. “I heard the missus left cause you couldn’t get it up, but won’t you look at that—” Your tone was sly, and he gripped your arm harder in retaliation. You laughed, “I guess she just didn’t know how to play. Or maybe you like this,” your voice lowered wantonly, and a shiver ran up his spine as though he was starting to attune to it. “Like not having a choice, to be in danger, to be forced to do something reprehensible.”

He had to lick his lips because for a second he thought he was drooling, “I have a choice.”

You smiled and his cock twitched, “Then choose.”

He eyed your smile and leaned into you, but you chuckled and playfully pressed the tip of the knife to impose distance, ignoring the red droplets tainting the fabric.

“On your knees, Chief.”

His eyes snapped to yours, and he pulled you by the arm, disregarding the blade, so you’d walk back until the back of your thighs hit the desk. Then, he gripped your hips and helped you on the desk, fisting your dress in the same movement to get it out of the way as he kneeled between your legs. Your knife had slipped from your hand as you rested them on the desk for support, and you didn’t think to pick it back up. You wanted him to eat you and mean it, but he was going above and beyond — nuzzling your thighs and inhaling your scent, frantically fighting with your dress, and trying to pry your legs further apart so he could have access.

When his nose poked your clit, you jumped in place, and his fingers dug into your hips, even through the fabric of the dress. Just looking at the way he was fighting to get his mouth on you was positively melting you, but you wanted it to actually happen.

“Slide them down,” you breathed after he nuzzled and licked your core through your panties enough times to cover you with goosebumps.

He immediately obliged, and you shimmied to help him get rid of them. He threw them on the floor, then gripped your legs apart before giving you a look that seared you in place. You didn’t know what it was, but you were living for it, and the excitement burned your gut. The Superintendent looked like a piece of forbidden heaven between your thighs; who knew he’d have you melting like this just at the hint of doing what you asked?

A smirk spread on your lips as he kept struggling with your dress, until suddenly — rip. He bunched the fabric and pulled it, causing the slit that revealed your thigh to rip, and you chuckled. You liked that energy, that hunger; the way he was willing to destroy to have his way. Instantly, he had free leeway to uncover your core and press his mouth, rolling his tongue all over your slick folds.

You jolted with a sigh, gripping his hair at the back of his head. The more he laved his tongue over your slit to taste you, the more you had the urge to move, but you stayed still. With your eyes closed, you enjoyed every second of his discovery, from his licks to his tasting and humming. You heaved the breath you were holding when he nibbled your heat right before finding your clit to suckle, and your voice finally came out. You could almost laugh at how easily he had found his way, but your mind wasn’t there. While he found his rhythm, you guided him with expressive sighs, grazing your acrylic nails over his scalp without ever forcing him. You wouldn’t; his hunger was part of the power trip. Chief Min would eat you, give you what you wanted, and service you because you had that much power. You could bring someone like him to his knees. He liked it.

You suddenly pulled on his hair so he’d look up at you, and he did, not even bothering with a quizzical look. You bit your lip to stop a smile and relented your grip, and he looked down for a second. It was all it took for him to get back to it, and you let your head fall back with a sigh — case in point.

“The things you do for duty, Chief…”

His tongue kept laving over you as if you were desert, focused, regardless of your taunt. In fact, he seemed to have forgotten where he was or why because his hands started gently exploring your spread thighs. His fingers pressed to your curves and didn’t stop even when he felt the garter that held the knife you had used on him. Instead, he pulled on it, making it snap against your thigh, ripping a stronger moan from you.

It was then he realized you needed something stronger, so he pressed his face harder against your cunt, latched onto your clit, and started rutting into you. You were surprised but instantly melted, and your fingers curved around his hair. The grind of his lips pressing into you while his mouth held the suction was already maddening, but the thrumming of his tongue on your clit was the cherry on top. You didn’t have time to make it a challenge, or maybe you didn’t want to; his rhythm was perfect against your heat, and you moaned when it intensified. The strumming was precise and maddening, each tap firm and steady, giving you enough time to despair for the next one and moan when it came, leaving you to anticipate what would come next.

Your hips started moving on their own, and that was when you knew you had let go. There was no point in pretending he wasn’t doing it just like you wanted, or that you weren’t rolling into his face to feel him harder, forcing him to dig his long fingers into the flesh of your hips as he drank the slick melting out of you. The very sounds of his humming and licking drove the blood to your cheeks and emboldened your hips, messily humping against his mouth. You could feel the edge right before you, and every time you ground on his mouth, you thought that would be it.

“Fuck,” you groaned between teeth, looking down to find burning brown eyes drinking you more greedily than his hot mouth. He wasn’t stopping you or holding you back, he was letting you fuck his mouth however you wanted, and it popped you.

You let your head fall back and pressed his face to your cunt, your moans pitching higher when he sucked harder, as if to pull all the pleasure out of you like it was venom. He rode your climax with you, gripping your trembling legs around him as though he wished you’d smother him, and finally, you looked down. Your walls were still throbbing in the aftershocks when he dragged his tongue across you slowly, and you groaned through a smirk, then pulled him away by the hair.

“Easy there,” you smiled and let your legs down.

You quickly pulled your dress down to cover you again while your other hand raked through your long hair, putting it in place. He rose slowly to his feet with his eyes on you, and you didn’t even try hiding your heaving chest; he could see it well with such an observant gaze. His eyes were so intense that you shuddered and bit your lip, but avoiding them only landed your own on his evident arousal, and you smirked.

Looking up, for a moment, your taunt got caught in your throat. Min Yoongi looked the absolute best covered in your cum from nose to chin — deliciously ravenous.

You licked your lips, raising your hand to his face but stopping before you touched him. He mimicked you, his pink tongue collecting your slick over his lips while he focused on yours. Still, when your hand moved down, so did his eyes. You smirked, dodging his erection at the last second to hide your hand under your dress.

You hummed, closing your eyes as your fingers collected your wetness mixed with his saliva, and then brought them straight to your mouth. You licked them first, tasting what he did before putting them in your mouth and sucking.

You clenched, knitting your eyebrows as you realized how turned on you were. You were throbbing and craving something to push into you and fuck you senseless, and opening your eyes, you saw the same urge staring right back at you.

Your fingers left your mouth with a pop, and then you smiled, shaking your head, “Should have asked for a good fuck too.”

His dark eyes stayed on yours for a moment, and even when he wiped his chin with the back of his hand, they remained on yours. It was almost a taunt, and you grinned; you loved a good challenge, and even more the kind of fucking that lustful gaze promised. But you knew the worth of asking, and you were not going to come out losing.

“Maybe next time.”

106 notes · View notes

neoplatinum · 6 months

Text

keep it up - chase atlantic | ning 'ningning' yizhou

summary: i care for you, like you care for me

pairing: gf!ningning x reader

themes: fluff, angst, implied substance abuse, professional help, rest of aespa!

wc: 1.0k

pt2 of: VTMNTSCOAT - destroy lonely

you can hear the sound of yizhou learning how to play different riffs on her guitar. it's endearing and warm how hard she's trying to nail this one piece to play it for you.

you think that yizhou would make such a hot rockstar girlfriend, not that you would say it to her face. it would probably inflate her ego too much.

"baby! come eat lunch." yizhou's too into her playing, barely processing that you've said something to her. so you tap her shoulder and her head whips up to look at you. she smiles and takes the guitar off of herself, setting it on the stand.

you both walk to the kitchen, you grab both bowls and place them on the table, as yizhou grabs utensils. and when she sits downs she smiles at you.

"i think i'm going to be able to finish that song by tomorrow." she speaks with pride. you're proud of her, for trying so hard to play the guitar. you grab her hand, squeezing it for encouragement.

yizhou smiles and digs into her bowl of noodles, happily slurping it. you watch and adore how cute she looks, eyes intently watching her noodles, a frustrated expression when the noodles slip through her chopsticks.

you think about that night all those months ago, at aeri's party. how heartbroken you both were, feeling a tear in your relationship, wanting so badly to mend it with your own hands. so you tried, getting yizhou professional help. yizhou's been seeing a specialist, getting help with her dependency on drugs. understanding why her mood swings are so dire.

you try and sit in with her most sessions, sometimes yizhou would rather you just sit outside in the waiting room. when you sit outside of the room, you wonder if she'll ever confide in you with what she isn't willing to share. most of all you are just proud she takes each session in stride even if she doesn't want to attend.

it's been a lot of up and downs with her mood swings, but at the end of the day she always tells you how much she loves you. she thanks you for sticking by her. some days she throws things around when she's unstable, when her mood is so off that she can't contain the emotions she's feeling.

other days she completely shuts you out, staying in her room for hours on end with no sound. you get worried at times that she'll completely shut you out but it never lasts for longer than a day.

usually she'll crawl into your room when its so late you're already asleep and cuddle into your side. there have been a few times you wake up when she does it, other times you sleep through the night and wake up with yizhou next to you, probably playing with your hair.

it doesn't matter if she shuts you out or is attached to your hip the whole day, you will always be there as a space for her when she needs it.

you like to take long walks on days where yizhou is out. long walks to really think about your own wellbeing, how being with yizhou impacts you. how her actions can fill you up or let you down.

you talk to yizhou about it sometimes and she listens to you. letting you have the space to speak about your own struggles. you talk about how hurt you were that night when you caught her dancing up on some guy, but thinking it was you the whole time.

you cry into her shoulder as she cries into you. she still loves you, the same way she was when you two started dating. she tries to be more present with you, asking how you are doing as well. taking the time to care for you and pamper you as well.

aeri, minjeong, and jimin also visit often, getting little gifts for yizhou that always makes her smile. minjeong sometimes comes over with her guitar and everyone sits to watch them play songs together. you feel a deep warmth in your chest when they smile at each other while they're playing. you're eternally grateful for these girls, that they take the time to care for yizhou just as much as you do.

you talk about it with aeri, minjeong and jimin one day, how much you appreciate them. they all cry at the sight of you breaking down, comforting you when you explain how hard all this has been on you.

you've decided to take yizhou to a festival, letting her enjoy her favorite artists. the whole time you've spent enjoying the vibe of the festival and swaying with yizhou while you hug her.

she's lovely at singing, you discover through the festival. that night when you drive home you request that she sings more often. she gets bashful at the comments, but sings to you nonetheless. you think you can hear the sound of love through her voice, it brings you to tears.

some nights when you two are too tired to go out for dates, you enjoy drawing with yizhou, letting her creativity run free. she draws these beautifully intricate pieces depicting her thoughts and feelings about herself, or how frustrated she is with the world. you always take the time to listen to her explain each piece, so she awards you with a kiss after each one.

you can feel yizhou getting better over time, how she's more confident in expressing how she feels to you. there's less of a hesitation to explain to you how she's struggling or even to the other three girls.

yizhou's even convinced you to pick up the drums to accompany her playing, she claims you look extra hot with sweaty hair on your face and especially when you look so into it. you laugh at that because it honestly feels like you look like you're drenched in the rain.

she kisses you senseless when you say that, and she comments. "i can't wait to marry you one day. i hope our kids have your perseverance."

you blush at the compliment, thinking about marrying yizhou one day, and honestly yeah, you think you'll have to do it soon.

a/n: this was requested by the lovely @torri77, hope it's enjoyable! friendly reminder that addiction is a very real situation, and this is fiction. as always, stay safe and stay healthy, everyone!

#ningning #ningning x reader #aespa ningning #ning yizhou #ning yizhou x reader #aespa x reader #aespa x you #kpop imagines #neoplatinum

187 notes · View notes

ugh-yoongi · 1 year

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the retreat | jhs

(or, the one where namjoon just wants hoseok to take care of himself, but then there's a fake relationship, only one bed, a guy who doesn't talk, and maybe a weird cult.)

✤ pairing: hoseok x f. reader ✤ genre: childhood bf2l, fake dating-ish au; crack, fluff, smut ✤ rating: explicit. minors do not interact. ✤ warnings: there is a lot of talk about food and eating in here, so i would not suggest reading this if you are sensitive to those kinds of triggers. tropes galore! side taegi. 5th muster jimin from that one vcr. hobi is pansexual and i do not wanna hear from the weirdos during pride month, or ever. he is a millionaire tho so he's not off the hook. a slight astrological dragging. a strained mother-daughter relationship. the smut is not super explicit or detailed but warnings are as follows: kissing, oral sex (f. receiving), biting, hair pulling, hobi may or may not rip a pair of underwear, fingering, protected vaginal sex. a brief but canonical breaking-the-fourth-wall appearance by park bogum. beta'd by me, so any mistakes are my own. ✤ wordcount: 19.6k ✤ thank you: @the-boy-meets-evil, as always, for the encouragement and reading every draft of this. @hot-soop for both the astrological advice and advice in general. @effortandmore for reading this over recently and telling me it was worth finishing. i would get absolutely nothing done without the three of you. ✤ author's note: i was supposed to have this posted for jess's birthday two years ago. we're not gonna talk about that, because this just means i'm a month early for this year. happy early birthday, jess! anyway~ this is basically a 20k love letter to jung hoseok bc i miss him. i hope you enjoy it.

Jung Hoseok is overworked.

(He’s also filthy rich, the proud owner of not one but two Lamborghinis [that he doesn’t even drive], and smiling on the cover of Forbes. He has a top floor penthouse in the most expensive high-rise in the city and a vacation home along the Italian coast. When he needs to go on a business trip, his driver takes him straight to the tarmac where he boards a private plane. His tailor just sends him clothes now, the cost of dressing Jung Hoseok far outweighed by the dozens of other filthy rich men who flock to his store to buy whatever he’s wearing.)

Jung Hoseok is also going to have a stroke and die before the age of 30, because what’s a little money at the expense of his mental well-being and cardiac health?

“All things considered, it wouldn’t be the worst way to go out,” he argues, clammy palms flat on his expensive desk. Rosewood, because not only is he a millionaire, he’s a millionaire with taste. None of that monochromatic minimalist bullshit for him, thank you.

In front of him, Kim Namjoon also looks to be on the verge of a stroke. Not of the same variety. Namjoon is paid well because he works for Hoseok and Hoseok insists on it. None of that heartless, dickhead-to-everyone, impossible-to-work-for CEO reputation for him, either, thank you.

Namjoon is also a militant vegan and has twenty-six plants and one bonsai on his desk named Bonnie. He insists on spending his lunch breaks in Hoseok’s office, lecturing him on the benefits of plant-based diets and exercise and meditation. Despite his perpetual smile and sunny demeanor, no one else speaks to Hoseok this way, but Namjoon does. Absolutely doesn’t give a shit.

“It absolutely would be the worst way to go out. Have you even been listening to me?”

Hoseok sighs and closes the symptoms of a stroke tab in his browser. “I always listen to you, Namjoon, I just don’t always listen.” A smart choice, too, judging by the swamp-colored sludge Namjoon has in a glass container, because he doesn’t use plastics.

Following his boss’s line of sight, Namjoon frowns. “It’s a pitaya bowl. Don’t look at it like that.”

“It looks radioactive,” Hoseok says, face contorted in a wince. “Like it’s going to become sentient and sprout six arms.”

Namjoon scoffs. “If it does, I hope it uses all six of them to slap the shit out of you.”

“I could pay it to spare me,” Hoseok insists, chin jutting out indignantly.

One of the reasons Hoseok had all but demanded HR hire Namjoon—despite there being a plethora of other candidates who were just as qualified and nowhere near as hell-bent on him taking care of himself—was his grit and determination. He’d showed up two hours early to his interview and steamed his suit jacket in the employee bathroom. It was completely insane and even more neurotic, but Hoseok had been taken with him immediately.

Now, it seems that determination and hard-headed nature is coming back to bite Hoseok in the ass.

“Oh, yeah? You’re gonna pay your blood to not get cut off from your brain and your heart, too? Well, good for you, Hobi. I heard blood has even started taking American Express. You’re in luck—”

Unable to take anymore, Hoseok groans and waves his arms to cut him off. “Okay, I get it! God, why did I hire you? Your desk alone has to be violating at least fourteen different health codes. Your office is humid. Do you know how impossible that is to achieve outside of a greenhouse?”

“You hired me because I’m good at my job and I’m not afraid of you, so I have no issue slapping your fourth double bacon cheeseburger of the day out of your greasy, on-the-brink-of-dying hands. Christ, you act like it’d actually kill you to eat a vegetable for once.”

Hoseok squawks. “Hey! That definitely didn’t come up in the interview, and I have never eaten four cheeseburgers in a day. Stop being hyperbolic.”

“Speaking of things that start with hyper- and have a Bin them, hyperbaric therapy is great for people with infections from oxygen-starved tissue—”

“Is this what you do all day? You just sit on the internet and search for diseases I could potentially die from and then you come in here and harass me about them?”

Namjoon’s face, which had previously been scrunched up in righteous indignation, smooths over into something far more serious. (He doesn’t even have wrinkles. Namjoon’s skincare routine must be immaculate.)“Someone has a stroke every forty seconds in this country, Hoseok. I wouldn’t joke about this.”

Well, okay. Every forty seconds is far more often than Hoseok had been expecting. Not that he thinks about stroke statistics often, and definitely not outside of Namjoon’s overbearing presence—but, in his defense, it’s not like he’s had much of a reason. He gets a physical and routine blood work done every year and his doctor has never rung any alarm bells, so why would he?

But the resolution with which Namjoon is hammering away at this is definitely giving him pause.

It doesn’t go unnoticed by him, either. “See, you are concerned! Look, you’re far more likely to stick with something if you don’t overwhelm yourself, so let’s start small, okay? One salad per day. And a real salad, Hoseok—not one of those ones loaded with cheese and bacon and drenched in ranch dressing.”

Hoseok’s jaw snaps closed. “Then what’s the point of eating a salad?”

“To prevent you from dying before your thirtieth birthday. We’ve already established this.”

“Okay,” Hoseok drawls, “but it’s not the salad’s fault if that happens. You shouldn’t take it out on him.”

Namjoon gags. “Leave it to me to work for a man who thinks salads are male.” He casts his gaze skyward. “Please, Lord, if you’re listening, please put me out—”

“Please put me out of my misery first,” Hoseok interjects, also staring at the ceiling. Then, with a leveled glare, he says to Namjoon, “Fine. State your terms.”

“Really?” Namjoon asks, having the audacity to look shocked.

“Yeah, if it’ll get you off my back. I can’t spend one more lunch break in here with you.”

Namjoon smiles. Nothing friendly, either—it’s purely sinister and mocking. Then he says, “Great success!” in a horrible impersonation of Borat and the moment’s gone, lost to the stagnant air conditioning of Hoseok’s office.

Unsurprisingly, Namjoon’s terms include a lot of vegetables.

Hoseok has a private chef, of course, so it’s not like he has to really do much other than smile through the pain. But, really, would it actually kill him to be allowed a steak or some lamb skewers? What had started off as salads for lunch has turned into a full-blown war between the two of them. Hoseok had shown up with cheese and bacon on his salad one time and Namjoon nearly went off the rails, performing a very enthusiastic speech about how Hoseok cannot be trusted when left to his own devices, so here they are.

Namjoon’s trying his hardest to crack Hoseok, and Hoseok wouldn’t have become the CEO of a Fortune 500 company by the age of twenty-eight if he were so easily cracked.

So, yeah, here they are. Locked in a stalemate like two idiot deer with their antlers tangled together, except instead of feuding over territory or a mate, they’re ready to spear one another over vegetables.

Darwin would have a lot to say about this.

On Friday, at exactly one-o’clock on the dot, Namjoon barges into Hoseok’s office and slaps a stapled-together pile of papers onto his desk. “New terms.”

“Oh, no thank you,” Hoseok replies airily. “I’m not much of a Dua Lipa fan.”

“Wha—that’s ‘New Rules.’”

“Is it?” Hoseok’s smiling, eyebrows raised in that way that makes him look super charming and innocent.

Namjoon isn’t fooled, though. “Cut it out. I saw you eating ribs under your desk the other day. You owe me this.”

Not much shocks Hoseok, but being outed like this so brazenly sure does. “How did you know about that?”

“Uh, did you forget your office walls are made out of glass?” Namjoon twirls a finger in a circle, as if to say look at your four glass walls, you fucking idiot. Isn’t it great to be rich and have no privacy? “Not to mention you had a glob of barbeque sauce on your shirt that I could smell from a mile away.”

“I could’ve put it on my salad,” Hoseok reasons.

“Oh, please.” Namjoon rolls his eyes. “Six ribs and a side of potato salad does not a salad make.”

“What do you mean? It’s literally called potato salad, isn’t it? God, you’re uptight.”

Namjoon sucks in a deep breath, most likely reciting meditation mantras in his head while he thinks about his plants. “I didn’t come in here for this,” he eventually says, and Hoseok is honestly impressed at how collected he sounds. “The point is you can’t be trusted, so there’s new terms.”

Grabbing the stack of papers, Hoseok flips through them casually. “And if I don’t agree? Don’t forget I’m your boss.”

“If you don’t agree, I’m posting the security footage of you eating those ribs on Twitter.” Hoseok’s looking positively scandalized now. He wouldn’t. Namjoon wouldn’t do that to him. “Honestly, Hoseok. You should be ashamed of yourself. You looked like that video of that oversized baby covered in peanut butter.”

“Are you blackmailing me?” Hoseok asks, eyes narrowed. “Seriously, who are you? Because the man standing across from me is not my sweet baby Namjoon. Sweet, sweet Namjoon, who always checks the toilet bowl before he uses it because he saw one of those videos from Australia of a snake being in there and he’d feel too guilty to even piss on a snake—”

Namjoon plants his palms on Hoseok’s desk and puffs out his chest a little. It’s a great chest, Hoseok must admit. Namjoon had mentioned in passing he’d started going to the gym, so he’s not—“I’m not afraid of you,” Namjoon reminds him. “Try me.”

“I have thirty-two lawyers.”

All Namjoon does is quirk an eyebrow. “I have thirty-thousand Twitter followers.”

“I can fire you.”

“Please do. Capitalism is a scourge on this earth and I no longer wish to participate in it.”

“I can fire you and make sure you never find employment in this city ever again.”

Namjoon shrugs. “Fine by me. I’ve been thinking about moving out of the city, anyway. Too much air pollution and I have no space to garden.”

Two things become clear very quickly: 1. Namjoon is far more cut-throat than Hoseok ever anticipated him being; and 2. Hoseok is woefully underprepared for this particular battle. No matter. He’s business-savvy. There’s no shame in conceding an unwinnable battle if he can still win the war, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

“Fine,” he relents after an awkward staring contest that lasts two minutes too long. “What are your new terms, then?”

“You have to go to a wellness retreat.”

Hoseok can’t stop the giggle that bubbles out of his mouth. “Sorry, did you say a retreat? How is that a punishment?”

“It isn’t,” Namjoon says. “It’s meant to reset your body and mind. No phones allowed. Just you and your partner in the refreshing, reinvigorating air of the rainfor—”

“What was that?” Hoseok interjects.

“What, the rainforest part? Don’t worry, it’s safe. You’re not, like, sleeping outside with tarantulas and shi—”

“No, not that. Me and my who?”

“Oh!” Namjoon grins. “Your partner. See, I did a lot of research and found the absolute best and most effective wellness retreat for people of your… uh, standard. And the man who runs this retreat is incredible. Like, world-renowned. But the catch is it’s a couple’s retreat, so you’ll have to find someone to play pretend with you for a month.”

Hoseok is a great businessman. He’s good at negotiations and managing relationships and making smart, anticipatory decisions. He has the bank account and name plate with accompanying title on his desk to prove it. But, as he takes in Namjoon’s words, the only thing his brain can come up with is the Windows shutdown sound and a glaring blue screen alerting him to danger.

Nevertheless, one of Hoseok’s rules for business is to never let the opposition see him frazzled. “Why don’t you just come with me?” he offers casually, his tone completely at odds with the pained, panicked expression on his face.

“Two reasons,” Namjoon says quickly and without hesitation, as if he expected this and had all the time in the world to prepare a rebuttal. “First, you couldn’t pay me enough to act like we’re a couple. No offense, but you’re kind of insufferable and I would never date a carnivore—”

Hoseok clicks his tongue. “Wow. Some offense taken.”

“—Second, someone has to stay behind and hold down the fort if you’re going to be gone for a month.”

“Why can’t Brad do it?” Hoseok asks. This time his strained tone completely gives him away.

“You don’t trust Brad.”

Hoseok’s brows furrow. “I never said that.”

“You absolutely did say that,” Namjoon responds immediately, pulling out his phone. “On April nineteenth at approximately ten-twenty in the morning, you said, and I quote, ‘Namjoon, why do you think I hired you? If I had to suffer through having one more Ivy League white guy who played lacrosse and got grandfathered into a fraternity as my assistant, I was going to throw myself down this elevator shaft.’ To which I replied, ‘Oh, you don’t like Brad?’ And you said, ‘Brad’s fine, I guess. I just don’t trust him.’ So, I asked you why, and you said, ‘I wouldn’t trust Brad to order a box of staples, let alone to know the difference between tteokbokki and hotteok—’”

“That doesn’t sound like something I’d say at all,” Hoseok lies. It absolutely sounds like something he’d say at ten-twenty in the morning on the nineteenth of April. “Also, did you really make a note of that? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Of course I didn’t,” Namjoon fires back. “I obviously took a voice recording of it first and transcribed it later. Sometimes I listen to it on repeat when I really want to strangle you and it calms me, because it serves as a reminder that if I go to prison for attempted murder, Brad will take my job. And we can’t have that, because you might simply distrust Brad, but I fucking hate him.”

Hoseok gapes a little. “We sure can’t,” he agrees. Tense air settles between the two of them as they both wait for the other to make the first move. Namjoon’s patient, having already played his hand knowing Hoseok has nothing to trump him, but Hoseok’s stubborn. He’ll drag this out as long as humanly possible. He’ll be ninety years old, on his fourth heart transplant, and still waiting to go on this trip. He’ll—

He’ll have to step down as CEO, because he has, once again, severely underestimated Kim Namjoon.

“Stop thinking so hard. It’s already booked and paid for.”

“With whose money?”

“Company card.”

“Which has my name on it. I’ll just cancel it.”

“It’s non-refundable, but go ahead. You’re still out all that money, though, so you might as well go.”

“I can’t just take a month off,” Hoseok says. He’s grasping at straws now. No one would dare tell him no, even if he wanted to take the next six years off. Human Resources would simply say of course, sir, have a great vacation, sir, see you in six years, sir, and off he’d go.

“Sure you can.” Namjoon stands, wipes his hands on the dress pants stretched to their limit across his thighs, and looks entirely too smug. “Better start looking for a date. Maybe you’ll have some luck on Tinder.”

Bile rises in Hoseok’s throat. “Tinder? Are you joking? I’m too rich to go on there. What if I find a nice date, take them home, and wake up in a bathtub full of ice because they found out who I was and decided to sell my organs?”

“No one would want them,” Namjoon deadpans. “I see the absolute filth you funnel into that body of yours and I can say, with one-hundred percent certainty, that your organs are worthless. Mine, on the other hand. Pristine—”

“Get the hell out of my office. I can’t even look at you right now.”

Good thing, too, because Namjoon’s still wearing that stupid little smirk. The really smug one that infuriates Hoseok to no end because it brings out his dimples, makes him look innocent and cute even though he’s not. The one that gloats Namjoon’s victory, like he’d known all along it was going to end this way. He’d hid those cards so far up his sleeve, Hoseok’s surprised they hadn’t started sprouting from his ears. God, he’s really insufferable. Makes Hoseok’s blood pressure spike something fierce.

“Did you ever stop to consider you’re the problem?” Hoseok calls to Namjoon’s retreating frame. When had he gotten so broad? “That maybe, if my heart does give out, it’ll be because I have to deal with you, the most stressful person on earth?”

“Nah, it’ll definitely be because two of your desk drawers are full of those disgusting oatmeal creme pies.” Somehow, Namjoon looks even more smug as Hoseok tries to discreetly glance at the aforementioned drawers. How does he find out all these things? “Anyway, you leave in two weeks! Good luck in your search. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon, sir.”

Just as he’d assumed would be the case, Hoseok has no luck on Tinder.

See, he’d fucked up from the beginning, deciding to be honest and truthful and explain his plight to any sympathetic pair of eyes that may have gazed upon it. He’d also decided to use his real name, and anyone familiar with those List of Billionaires We Should Eat listicles had snuffed him out immediately. Long gone were the days of genuine conversation and playful flirting. Now, Hoseok’s inbox is full of more genitalia than he’s ever seen in his life. He’s literally drowning in it and can’t even take time to appreciate the situation in which he’s accidentally found himself.

He’s absolutely going to kill Kim Namjoon once this is all over.

After getting over the embarrassment of the next day’s MULTIMILLIONAIRE CEO JUNG HOSEOK SPOTTED ON TINDERheadline, because he hadn’t even had the good sense to use Raya, Hoseok resigns himself to scrolling through the contacts list in his phone. He’s not desperate or stupid enough to invite his ex, or any of the myriad of names he can’t put to faces because, despite what Namjoon says, he’s still concerned about his organs, so he also resigns himself to calling you.

His best friend.

Who’s going to spend the rest of her life roasting him over this.

“What a pleasant surprise,” you greet him. “Haven’t heard from you in weeks. Let me guess, you need me to make another burner account and explain to Rose Emoji and Hammer and Sickle Twitter why they shouldn’t eat you?”

“No—”

You tsk. “That’s a shame. I think I missed my calling in life.”

“Being a Twitter troll?”

“Yeah, obviously,” you agree. “Do you remember that time I set up the fake Gofundme to pay for my conservative cousin’s cephalanalectomy surgery because the liberal snowflake surgeon refused to perform it and he was going to die if they literally did not remove his head from his ass? That was fucking gold, Hobi. I’m a natural.”

“You’re definitely something,” he acquiesces. Then he has an idea. “Hey, do you wanna help me troll Namjoon?”

Your silence is deafening. “Uh, that depends.” Oh, Hoseok does not like your hesitation at all. “He has, like, a lot of Twitter followers, so I’m not trying to beef with him publicly, even if it is on a burner account.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afr—what the fuck kind of Twitter following does this guy have?”

“It’s probably better if you don’t know,” you say, voice laced with faux-concern. “I like Namjoon and I’d like him to remain employed by you simply so he can annoy the absolute fuck out of you until the day you either retire or die. So, yeah, let’s keep that between him and I.”

Hoseok feels dizzy. Probably because he’s been eating all these goddamn salads and now he’s nutritionally deficient. “Whatever. I do actually need your help with something, though.”

“You know my rates.”

“Why do I have to pay to hang out with you?” Hoseok whines. “Isn’t my life-long friendship enough?”

You snort. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Why is everyone bullying me lately? Can’t you spare a crumb of empathy for your best friend?”

“Empathy machine broke,” you deadpan. “Come on, ask me what my terms are. I already know what I want this time.”

Hoseok sighs. He wouldn’t relent this quickly for anyone else. He has a reputation to uphold, after all. “Fine. What are your—”

“I want a Birkin bag and dinner from that new Brazilian place by your office.”

“That’s a definite no on the bag,” Hoseok says. “I’m not spending that much money on anyone who isn’t my future spouse. We can have dinner, though.”

“I think you misheard me, sunshine. I said I want to go to dinner there. I’m going to gorge myself on expensive all-you-can-eat meats and I do not want to taint my experience watching you shovel a miserable, wilted salad into that pretty little heart-shaped mouth of yours. I’ll get agita.”

“Agi—I can’t believe this,” Hoseok whines, feeling the apples of his cheeks tinge red. “Have you and Namjoon been getting together to conspire against me? Is that why the two of you are bullying me?”

Hoseok expects you to say no. He expects you to say that you and Namjoon don’t even speak, you’d only met him once at that Christmas party a year ago, during which Namjoon spent the entire time waxing poetic about conifers and that time he dropped acid at Yosemite and cried for a week straight. But no. No, you don’t say anything at all, and if Hoseok was feeling bullied and just a little scandalized before, he’s absolutely feeling tortured now.

Namjoon, on his own, is bad.

You, on your own, are worse.

The two of you, together? No. Hoseok simply can’t—and won’t—allow it.

You suck in a breath. “In my defense—”

“You absolute traitor,” Hoseok seethes. “You, of all people, have betrayed me?”

There’s a tiny gasp on the other end of the line. “Oh, come off it, Hobi!” you snap. “Have you ever seen yourself eat? It’s foul. Like something straight out of Animal Planet.”

“It is not!”

“It is, and you know it,” you fire back. “I once watched you eat an entire personal-sized pizza in forty-two seconds. I don’t even think you chewed it. You just detached your jaw like some kind of creepy snake and inhaled. Something needed to be done.”

It’s Hoseok’s turn to gasp. “And that something was going full Judas Iscariot and selling me out to the Romans for thirty pieces of silver?”

There’s a pause on your end. “Is Namjoon the Romans in this scenario? Because, if so, I’ve got to say—”

“Who cares!” Hoseok snaps. “Who fucking cares who the Romans are—”

“The Romans, probably,” you chime in unhelpfully.

“—because the two of you have officially given me agita. How’s that? Huh? First I have to sit through all of Namjoon’s lunch lectures—”

“He should trademark that. Has a nice ring to it. Namjoon’s Lunch Lectures.”

“—then, I had to start eating salads. Salads. Then he signs me up for some stupid wellness retreat in the goddamn rainforest and tells me I have to find a fucking date, so off I go to Tinder, but everyone on there only wanted me for my harvestable organs, so I was like, ‘You know what, Hoseok? You know who you can always count on? Your best friend of twenty years. She’s never let you down. She’ll go with you, and the two of you will have a good time, because she’s your best friend and you enjoy her company.’ But no, come to find out—”

There’s a very loud shriek of laughter. “Oh my god. Holy shit, Hobi, is that really why you called? Namjoon actually signed you up for that couple’s retreat?”

Now, there’s a very loud shriek of disbelief. “You fucking knew about that?” You try to contain your snort. Really, you do, but it’s no match for Hoseok’s palpable ire. “You knew, and you didn’t tell me?”

“Oh, come on! It’ll be good for you, sunshine. You’re clearly overworked. You had visible stress lines in the last selfie you posted on Instagram.”

“I did not, I use hyaluronic acid!” he insists, but if Hoseok swipes out of your call to pull up his Instagram account, no one has to know.

You groan. “Why do you keep arguing with me? I’m never wrong.”

“Yes you are.” There’s a very pointed pause during which Hoseok can very clearly, in his head, hear you say see?

“Listen,” you say, voice strong with all the conviction of a person who hadn’t spent the last five minutes being a menace to society—and Hoseok. “I’ll go with you. I have some time off from my program and there’s nothing I’d rather do than spend a whole month in the rainforest with you.”

“I feel like that was sarcastic.”

You tut. “Honestly, Hobi, it’s like you don’t even know me at all. You know number three on my bucket list is going to Costa Rica to hang out with sloths.”

His phone pings a second later with a text from you. An article about a sloth sanctuary greets him, and he swallows the immediate ew that’s on the tip of his tongue. Sloths are cute, sure, but they also have bugs. “Great,” he chokes out. “Are you gonna meet a sloth and turn into Kristen Bell? Because I’m not signing up for that. You look like Kim Kardashian when you cry.”

“Fuck you.” Hoseok is a millionaire, he doesn’t deserve this treatment. “Now, what are your plans for tomorrow night? Let’s do dinner. We need to take a bunch of selfies during sunsets so we look like a plausible couple.”

When he was eight and you were seven, Hoseok witnessed his first act of violence.

A kid on the school bus had been giving him a hard time. Nothing totally awful, just being a bit of a dick the way kids are wont to do, and Hoseok was a pushover back then. Just wanted everyone to like him so he never really stuck up for himself. Just smiled and laughed off the teasing and cried about it later.

Apparently this was unacceptable to you.

You tossed your bookbag in Hoseok’s lap, pushed up your sleeves, made your way to the back of the bus, and told that kid you’d slam his head into the window if he didn’t stop picking on Hoseok.

He’d gotten his head slammed into the window approximately fourteen seconds later.

(Never messed with Hoseok again, though.)

Since then, the two of you have been nearly inseparable. Sure, there had been petty arguments here and there, and Hoseok had gone to an Ivy League across the country, but it was rare for the two of you to go more than a few days without talking. Even now, when Hoseok works eighty hour weeks and is busy being a Very Important Person, he still makes time for you. Sometimes that time is just exchanging stupid memes over text, but he always makes the effort.

Which is why, even though you don’t see the point in crafting some elaborate backstory and had only said the thing about the sunset selfies to con him into coming over, he stays quiet and shows up to your apartment for dinner and worldbuilding anyway, because it’s been too long since he’s last been here and he misses you.

“Are you taking notes?” Hoseok asks, pointing at you with his fork. “This is important.”

You groan into your wine glass. “Fake dating is so hard,” you whine. “Why can’t we just tell the truth?”

He levels you with a stare. “Because! Don’t you think it’s a bit…”

“What, you think it’s totally unbelievable that I could be in love with you?”

Oh. Hoseok doesn’t like this at all, either. Doesn’t like the way the words sound in your mouth. Doesn’t like the way his stomach drops as he digests them. Doesn’t like how nice they sound, like you’d just waded through all the extracurricular bullshit to get straight to the point and arrive at the inevitable conclusion, which is the two of you riding off together into that sunset you’d mentioned before.

He doesn’t like feeling like he might want that.

It’s not like he’s never thought about it. You’re his best friend and he has 20/20 vision, so of course he has. It's always just been one of those things: didn’t want to ruin your friendship, moved across the country, got too busy, didn’t think you’d want him like that in return.

“I—no,” he says unconvincingly. “I just… it’d totally be weird, right? Us pretending to be a couple?” He throws in a chuckle for good measure, as if the thought of dating you is so preposterous it simply has to be a joke.

You just shrug. Where Hoseok is all nervous jitters, you’re solid and unshaken, always. “Not really. We’ve been friends forever. We’re obviously comfortable with each other. You showing up to my place in those disgusting crochet shoes is proof enough of that.”

Hoseok looks down at his feet and frowns. “They’re Valentino.”

“More like Valenti-no.”

He rolls his eyes. “See, that right there is why we can’t wing this. I can’t pretend to like your awful jokes. I’ll out myself immediately.”

You roll yours right back. “Nah, I think it works. You’re obviously the high-strung CEO who doesn’t appreciate good humor when he sees it and I’m the sad housewife who just wants you to laugh at my jokes.” You jut out your bottom lip and pretend to cry. “Why won’t you just laugh at my jokes, Hobi?”

He flicks a green bean at you. “How’d we go from fake dating to fake marriage? Stop trying to swindle me.”

Once again, you pout dramatically. “God, first you refuse to laugh at my jokes, now you refuse to marry me? You’re breaking my heart here.”

“I’m not buying you a ring,” Hoseok scoffs. “I know for a fact you’ll just turn around and sell it for triple the price to some poor, unsuspecting bastard.”

“Not my fault there’s a lot of poor, unsuspecting bastards in the world. All of this just proves, for the billionth time, that I’m the better businessperson between the two of us.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Hoseok sighs. “Just because your lemonade stand outsold mine once doesn’t mean—”

“I also outsold you during that candle fundraiser in the fifth grade. And the candybars during Little League. And that bullshit one in high school with the pineapple pizzas—”

“Fine!” Hoseok throws his hands up. Then, with as little of a grimace as he can muster, he says, “Let’s go to Costa Rica, Mrs. Jung.”

It doesn’t land.

Your jaw drops immediately, an exaggerated gag spilling from your lips. “I changed my mind,” you deadpan. “No marriage for us unless you take my last name.”

“What’s wrong with mine?”

“Feels bad in my mouth. What’s wrong with mine?”

Hoseok rolls his lips together. “Nothing, really. Just—”

“Is this some kind of male pride thing? You refuse to take your wife’s last name for fear of public ridicule and castration jokes?”

“No.” Hoseok glares at you. “It’s just—the reservation’s in my name. Besides, if someone made shitty jokes about you, I’d slam their head into a window, too.”

“Oh.” As soon as your jaw snaps shut, a brilliant smile splits your face. “That was unexpectedly wholesome, Seok. You’re getting soft in your old age.”

Only for you, he wants to say. Instead, he shoves another forkful of rice in his mouth and a copy of the itinerary in your direction.

(For all your bravado and willingness to slam the heads of elementary school bullies into windows, you hate flying. So, if you squeeze Hoseok’s hand too tight and he snaps a photo of it under the guise of how comically purple-red it’s turning, and not at all because it’s the first time you’re holding his hand and some weird, sentimental part of him wants to commemorate it, that’s his business.

If his heart is so full it nearly bursts out of his chest at the sight of you crying over a sloth, and if he memorizes the stars in your eyes as you hold one—not caring about the bugs or the giant claws or the fact that sloth fur kind of looks like a bird nest, algae included—that’s his business.

If he posts the photo of you crying to his Instagram, knowing damn well you’re going to yell at him for it later, and he cackles wildly over Namjoon’s comment:

[namjooning commented: why does she cry like that kim kardashian meme? junghoseok replied: Right? That’s what I said]

—that’s his business. It’s only because he’d said you look like Kim Kardashian when you cry and, if nothing else, Hoseok loves to be proven right. It has nothing to do with wanting to remember you that happy forever. Not at all.

If he feels like he’s going into cardiac arrest when you hug him tightly, murmuring a quiet thank you in his ear on the last night of your stay at the sanctuary, it’s simply because you’re not very tactile. Hugs—and outward affection—from you are rare. That’s all. His skin absolutely does not break out in goosebumps. Doesn’t feel tingly all over. His breathing continues as normal.

If he finally comes to the startling realization that he’s in way too deep when you fall asleep on his shoulder during the drive to the resort, well…

Hoseok may be deadly smart, but he’s always been a complete fool when it comes to you.

If he sends a panicked text to Namjoon asking how he’s supposed to survive the next month, and if Namjoon misinterprets it as an ambitious, live-to-work type-A personality freaking out over not knowing how to unwind and tells him to just take it easy, and Hoseok misinterprets that as go for it, well…

The next four weeks sure are going to be interesting, aren’t they?)

See, the thing about Hoseok is he has all the money and prestige a man of his status could want.

He’s filthy rich, he’s well-respected, he’s kind. People love him. He loves people in return. He’s been called the living embodiment of actual sunshine more times than you or he could possibly count. There’s truly nothing he wants for in this world.

Hoseok is also the type of person who gets anxious at the thought of calling the Malaysian restaurant you two frequent to place a delivery order. Namjoon has to force him to make his own personal appointments under threat of death. He changed doctors because his new one lets him schedule appointments online. He won’t go to a fast food drive-thru unless they have mobile ordering.

It’s just the way Hoseok is. He’s been that way as long as you’ve known him—at least since that time in the fifth grade when his mother once gave him twenty bucks and told him to call the pizza place and order dinner for the two of you and he totally balked, resigning the two of you to toaster oven Ellio’s that tasted way too similar to skating rink pizza to be a coincidence.

Which is why he balks again as soon as the two of you reach the front desk of the resort, shoving you in front of him to talk to the man behind it.

Maybe it’s the raging pansexual inside Hobi rather than his uncharacteristic fear of talking to literally anyone, but you totally get it. You don’t really want to talk to this man, either. He’s ash blond and bathed in golden light, highlighting his already golden skin to look completely ethereal, and he’s got a smug look on his face that tells you he knows exactly how intimidatingly good-looking he is.

Still, you’re not easily shaken. Jung Hoseok is your best friend—and fake boyfriend, lest you’ve forgotten—for fuck’s sake. You’ve committed violence for him. Golden Desk Boy is going to have to try a whole lot harder than this. “Hiii,” you say, lips painted in a saccharine smile. God, you’re so fake. “We’re checking in under Jung.”

The man—whose name badge says Jimin—returns your fake smile. “Great! Thank you so much for joining us for your stay.”

You take a moment to look around while Jimin pulls up your reservation, purposefully skipping over Hoseok’s form. He’s not doing anything, just sitting in a plush armchair as he pretends to read the newspaper, but you feel the flames of annoyance licking at your heels nonetheless, because you wouldn’t be here to begin with if it weren’t for Hoseok and his subordinate micromanager, and what kind of weird place has he brought you to?

Everything is white. Not in the sterile kind of way, because the monotony is broken up with lush greenery and the occasional piece of teak furniture, but there’s enough white for you to wonder if it’s some sort of statement. The floors and walls are white. All the non-wooden furniture is white. Jimin’s silk uniform and teeth are both blindingly white. Not that you’d seen many people since you stepped into the lobby, but the ones you had seen had been wearing white, too.

Jimin looks up from the computer screen and you’re almost surprised to find his irises aren’t white, too. Maybe it’s rude, but he seriously gives you the creeps. “Everything is ready for your stay, Mr. and Mrs. Jung. I’ve requested someone come to retrieve your luggage.”

You gawk. “Oh, we’re not—we’re not married.”

“Oh?” Jimin asks, one perfect eyebrow arched as his eyes twinkle with intrigue.

“Yeah,” you insist. “Not that I need to explain my morals and ethics to a stranger, but I don’t believe in the patriarchy.”

“Really? That’s great,” Jimin lies. This man is overflowing with shithead energy. “Neither do I.”

You scoff. “Oh, sure. That’s why you just assumed my bes—my partner and I were married.”

“That’s what the reservation says.” He looks very amused now. Kim Namjoon is going to receive a very lengthy text message in approximately ten minutes. “I do apologize for this mistake. I’ll make sure to correct it right away.” Amusement slowly morphs into a challenge. “Is there a new last name I can put on the reservation for you instead?”

Call it a hunch, but you think it best to not give this person any of your identifying information. “No.”

“Shall I leave it as Jung, then?”

It physically pains you to say this, but you manage to choke out a very strained, “Yes.”

“Fantastic,” Jimin sing-songs. “I’m very glad we were able to sort out this issue for you, Mr. and Mrs. Jung.”

Choke on a dick and die is what you want to say (for no reason, really; it isn’t like Jimin’s been outright cruel to you), but as much as Hoseok avoids people—and avoids confrontation even more—he appears at your side, looking every bit the sunshine after a storm he always is. “Everything okay?” he asks, placing a gentle hand at the small of your back. “…Dear,” he tacks on as Jimin’s eyes study the two of you.

“Everything’s great!” you chirp, determined to cast away Jimin’s obvious suspicions. “Jimin here says someone’s coming to get our bags.” Another fake, saccharine smile. Like sweet’n low. “He’s been very helpful.”

Everything’s great, in you-speak, translates to I once, foolishly, thought Kim Namjoon was on my side. I now see the errors of my ways and I demand justice and revenge. Fool you once (getting roped into being Hoseok’s fake partner to come to a weird wellness retreat), shame on Namjoon. Fool you twice (allowing him to book the reservation and label you a married couple), shame on you. There won’t be a third time, because Kim Namjoon’s days are numbered once you’re both in the same country again.

“Will you be needing a tour?” Jimin asks, voice tinkling like expensive crystal.

You grasp Hoseok’s hand far too tight to be believable and wave off the receptionist. “No, thank you! Just a map will do. That’s how we met, you know—at a… map… class.”

“A map class?” Jimin parrots. “Riveting.” He smiles. Sweet’n low.

“It sure was!” You turn to Hobi. “Wasn’t it? …Babe,” you choke out. The word tastes so gross on your tongue.

When you look up at him, Hoseok’s wearing that trademark expression of his: the one where his eyes are too wide, tight-lipped smile stretched too thin. Hoseok’s convinced it’s convincing. It isn’t. It’s terrifying and makes your skin feel itchy from the inside. “Mmm, yep,” he agrees easily. “Love a good map. Some good… cartography.” He pinches three fingers together because he’d seen it on The Sopranos and it’s just a thing he does now.

Sometimes you forget Hoseok is rich-rich.

Of course Namjoon had mentioned booking the trip on the company card and of course you know what someone like him having access to a company card implies. It’d implied you were going on an all-expenses-paid trip on some massive company’s dime. But, perhaps naively, you’d just envisioned a fancy hotel room at some resort near a beach. Shoreline bonfires, tiny portions of food on massive plates when you order room service, colorful drinks with tiny umbrellas and a skewer of fruit stuck inside, three-digit price tag.

Instead, the two of you follow the map to a secluded, private house. There’s a balcony. The shower is made entirely of glass and surrounded by the lush greenery outside. The exterior wall in the bedroom is also made of glass and affords you panoramic views of the beach and forest and everything in between. The thread count of the Egyptian cotton sheets is disgustingly low.

(Which, speaking of Hoseok and all his money—he’d been the one to teach you about thread counts to begin with. You’d wrongfully assumed the higher the number the better, but Hoseok had gently grabbed the scratchy 1500 count sheets out of your hands with a pained grimace and handed you a set of Supima cotton sheets with a startlingly low thread count instead.

Rich people have everything backwards.)

Truth be told, it’s exactly the kind of place you’d see on some influencer’s Instagram account. The kind of place they’d delude you into thinking you could afford, too, because having your influencer boyfriend take a picture of you sinking into the lush white duvet and plastering a $10 filter on it is more important than affording your student loan payments.

But you digress.

Either way, you’ll have to send a thank you card to the board of directors.

Hoseok, on the other hand, balks for the second time. Takes one look at the singular bed and completely shuts down, Windows sound effects practically blaring over an invisible loudspeaker above his head once again. “Where’s the other bed?” he asks stupidly.

You snort. Stash your suitcase in the corner. You’ll unpack it later… or next week. Whenever you get around to it, really. “What other bed?”

“You know, like. The other one.”

“There’s only one, Seok. Why would there be two? This is a couple’s retreat.”

He pouts. “Not every couple sleeps together, you know. My grandparents have separate bedrooms.”

“No offense, bud, but your grandfather also wears diapers.”

“So?”

“So there might be a correlation, is what I’m saying.”

“Are you saying you wouldn’t sleep in the same bed as your husband of seventy years just because he might pee the bed sometimes?”

You level him with a look. Unpacking doesn’t sound like such a bad idea anymore. “I’m well past the age where I could conceivably be married to someone for seventy years, so it doesn’t matter.”

“You’re not even thirty yet.”

You click your tongue. “Hoseok, you of all people know I never expected to live past the age of thirteen. There’s no way I’m making it to ninety-seven.”

“You only thought you were gonna die when you were thirteen because you had your appendix removed.” You give him another look. “And you got your tonsils removed that same year.” Another one. “What?” he huffs. “What’d I forget?”

“That time we were playing volleyball in gym class and you spiked the ball right in my face and broke my nose.”

“Not a life-threatening injury.”

“Thirteen was a really hard year for me,” you retort, overdramatic as always. “It’s a miracle I survived.”

“Oh my god—”

“A miracle, Hobi.”

With a disapproving shake of his head, he’s off to unpack his luggage, because Hoseok is filthy rich and has expensive clothes that, according to him, cannot, under any circumstances, go hours without being hung up properly. You’ve never seen a silk shirt with a wrinkle in it, let alone a wrinkle on any article of Hoseok’s clothing, but you learned a long time ago it’s much less stressful to just let him be neurotic about his wardrobe.

You, on the other hand, are going to do no such thing. You’ll live out of your suitcase for as long as you can get away with it, so you flop face-first onto the bed, careful to leave your shoes dangling off the edge. Hoseok’s already going to give you shit about—

“Yah!” he wails, his fifteenth white button-down shirt draped haphazardly off a hanger. “No street clothes in the bed!”

You roll your eyes. “Street clothes? Who says shit like that? Most people just have clothes.”

“You’ve been wearing them all day,” Hoseok argues, because there’s very little he loves more than an argument. “They’re dirty, and now they’ve made the bed dirty, too.”

However, to the detriment of Hoseok’s well-being, you love arguing, too. You look down at both your clothes and the pristine duvet and vaguely gesture at both. “Ah, yes. So filthy. The bed—which you’d nearly had an aneurysm over sharing with me not even ten minutes ago, might I add—is so dirty. How will we ever be able to sleep in it?”

Watching Hoseok mentally tabulate through the Seven Stages of Grief is the most entertainment you’ve had in hours. Jaw clenched, he simply stares at you for a few seconds before leveling his voice and repeating, “No street clothes in the bed.” Then he tacks on a please that’s clearly an afterthought. “Didn’t you bring loungewear? Can’t you just wear that instead?”

You did, in fact, bring loungewear. It would’ve been irresponsible not to, considering the length of your stay and proximity to paradise, but stubbornness seems to be the flavor of the day so you just shrug and toe your shoes off. “I’m not going to change. We don’t have long before we have that welcome dinner, anyway. I’m not going to put on loungewear only to change into dinner-wear and then come back, shower, and change again into pajamas.”

Hoseok’s nose scrunches in distaste. “What welcome dinner?”

“Do you not read?” you tease. “There was a whole itinerary attached to the map. We have a welcome dinner tonight with that guy Namjoon’s in love with.”

“Which one?”

You click your tongue. “The guy who runs this place.” Then you furrow your brow. “What do you mean ‘which one’?”

“Nothing. Just—you know how Namjoon is. He falls in love at least eight separate times whenever he goes to the gardening store.”

“Guess he doesn’t herb his enthusiasm.” Hoseok groans loudly as you point finger guns at him.

He lobs a mated pair of socks at your head that bounce off your ass instead. “Please just get ready for dinner. I can’t do this.”

To put it mildly, Kim Seokjin is fucking weird.

Hoseok hadn’t noticed. He’d taken one look at him and his mischievous eyes and welcoming smile and dove right in, engaging him in endless conversation about god-knows-what. That’s just how Hoseok is. Aside from his justifiable distrust of Tinder dates, he makes and keeps friends effortlessly. It’s the sunshine in him, your mother always used to say, because Hoseok was always the sun and everyone else were sunflowers, desperate to bask in him and reflect his light.

(Namjoon has always said it’s because he’s an Aquarius. You don’t know what that means, but you assume it’ll click once you buy a few crystals and start exclusively listening to Fleetwood Mac.)

And that has always been okay—good, even. He’s never lost that innate goodness, even when he’d been placed at the head of a billion-dollar corporation where ruthlessness is encouraged. Hoseok’s edges remain rounded and soft; he emphasizes a need for kindness, shows it has a place amongst the cold, calculated world of business. Really, it’s great. You can’t be more proud to call him your best friend.

However.

It doesn’t mean Hoseok isn’t a fucking idiot sometimes.

Because he’s good, his first assumption is always that others are good, too. No matter how many times you’ve grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him away from a fire, his first instinct is still to reach out and touch it.

His first serious girlfriend, back in high school? Yeah, you’d warned him about her. Told him she was messing around with a kid on the soccer team on the side, but Hoseok had insisted she’d never do that. “She’s into embroidery,” he’d said, as if that excused someone from being a two-timing cheat.

That guy he’d been partnered with for a serious project in business school? You’d listened to Hoseok talk about him over Skype once and suggested he find a new one. Kept silent as he unloaded on you a few weeks later after the guy had fucked him over.

You’d even advised him against hiring Namjoon. Couldn’t fathom why Hoseok would even be considering hiring someone who showed up to an interview hours early. Obviously he hadn’t listened, and look where it’s gotten the two of you.

It isn’t that you’ve got a sixth sense for assholes or anything. It’s just that Hoseok’s such a terrible judge of character that it makes you look like Sherlock Holmes in comparison.

So it comes as no surprise to you when Seokjin excuses himself for a moment and Hoseok turns to you with hearts in his eyes only to be greeted by your Hoseok you’re doing that thing again where you put people on a pedestal who are not to be trusted look.

“No,” he dismisses immediately. “Him? No way.”

Your nostrils flare. “Hoseok. Don’t be an idiot about this. He’s weird.”

“He’s just eccentric. Aren’t all these New Age hippie types like that? The guy runs a wellness retreat for fuck’s sake—of course he’s weird.”

“His vibes are off,” you retort, which admittedly sounds like a New Age hippie thing to say, but the longer Hoseok insists you’re wrong, the more you begin to wonder if you are. The two of you had been sent here by Namjoon, and he’s easily one of the weirdest people you’ve ever met. Maybe Hoseok’s right.

You allow yourself two minutes of self-doubt. Then you’re shaking your head and poking your tongue into the fat of your cheek because you know bad vibes when you feel them and Kim Seokjin has them in spades.

The man in question returns a few moments later, two new men in tow: a taller one with a boxy smile and a tan and a shorter one with a scowl that looks permanent but not on purpose, like it’d just shown up on his face one day and forgot to leave. The grumpy-looking one sits across from Hoseok, looking every bit as unsure as you, while the other one takes the empty seat to his left, right in front of you.

“I’m Taehyung,” he says, ass barely in the chair before he’s leaning over the table to shake your hand. His feels like a hand that’s shaken many others—firm, warm, soft. Feels a lot like shaking Hoseok’s hand might feel, an importance simmering beneath the surface, but you’ve never had a reason to do so. “This is Yoongi.” Taehyung gestures to the man beside him. “He doesn’t talk much but you get used to him, I think.”

“You think?” Hoseok laughs, an eyebrow quirked, fully in his element. Words soft, edges softer. Hoseok was born for these types of moments. Meeting strangers, knowing what to say.

Yoongi stays quiet. Barely looks around the room, which is a feat in itself. Seokjin had invited all of you to dinner in a grand dining hall, walls tall and floors gleaming, both stark white like the rest of the resort. Immediately sat at the head of the table like some sort of king, and you would’ve thought something of it, maybe looked at Hoseok and mouthed what’s this guy’s deal? But then he placed his napkin neatly across his lap, looked at the two of you, smiled dazzlingly, and said, “Is cereal soup?”

It had all gone downhill from there, really.

Now Taehyung and Yoongi are seated across from you and Hoseok and Yoongi still hasn’t said a word and you’re hoping maybe, just maybe, he’s also picking up on how weird all of this is. Taehyung has that exuberant optimism that reminds you a lot of Hoseok so you disregard him as a comrade immediately. Just the kind of guy to love any and everyone, oblivious to bad vibes. No, Yoongi’s the one you need on your side and it’s glaringly obvious.

One small hiccup, though: he really doesn’t talk.

Like, at all.

Taehyung talks enough for the both of them, endearing everyone with a smile and an endless supply of stories told in that deep baritone voice of his. Every now and then he’ll turn to Yoongi and say isn’t that right, dumpling? and Yoongi just hums an acknowledgment. Doesn’t seem put off by the pet name at all, despite looking like someone that’d be put off by pet names.

They’re cute. You mouth as much to Hoseok and he just smiles at you in return, a soft little thing. Yoongi and Taehyung are the kind of couple who give off we’ve been together for decades energy even though they don’t look much older than you. Just two people completely at ease with one another, and it does something to your stomach. All small, hidden touches and words communicated through looks alone. Best friends and lovers. Partners both in crime and in life.

It’s a sweet moment.

It’s a moment completely negated by Seokjin’s booming voice at the head of the table. “Well, this was fun, wasn’t it? Let’s move to the lounge.”

Yoongi doesn’t look to Taehyung. Yoongi looks to you, and it’s only because you’d looked at him instead of Hoseok that you notice the subtle downturn of the corners of his mouth, the slight pinch between his brows. He doesn’t outright ask it, but there’s a question in his body language: What’s this guy’s deal?

It’s one you’d also like an answer to.

Yoongi keeps his eyes on you the entire time the five of you talk in the lounge. Well, Taehyung’s once again speaking for both of them, hands and arms gesturing wildly all around him, and Yoongi seems more than content to sit in silence. Seokjin and Hoseok chime in where they should, asking questions and emphasizing words and generally being agreeable. You, on the other hand, sit next to Hoseok and try to exude the same energy Taehyung and Yoongi do. The we’re so in love and comfortable with each other we don’t even need to touch type. The we only post selfies together three times a year because we don’t need to flaunt our relationship variety.

But, as all inevitable things inevitably do, the conversation moves to relationships. Seokjin sneaks it in under the guise of getting to know everyone, and Taehyung takes the bait immediately, seemingly always looking for a reason to show off Yoongi and talk him up. You hate that it’s endearing. You hate that you want something like it—someone enamored with you without preamble. A just because kind of love. Something solid and bone-deep.

“It was totally by accident,” Taehyung’s saying as your attention drifts back to him. Not soon enough, because he’s clearly halfway through a story and you have no idea what the plot is. “We’d both been backpacking through Europe, and I was trying to check in at this tiny hostel in Thessaloniki but my Greek is terrible, understandably, so I was really struggling. Trying to tell the poor woman behind the desk my name and that I’d booked a private room, and she just kept shrugging and looking at me like I was crazy. It was, like, midnight, so I was exhausted and just wanted to sleep, and then out of nowhere this guy”—He jerks his thumb at Yoongi, who remains silent and still—“just comes up behind me and starts speaking fluent Greek.”

Hoseok’s eyes widen. “Fluent Greek? Wow,” he says, eyebrows disappearing beneath his fringe, “that’s really impressive.”

“You have no idea,” Taehyung continues to gush. “He speaks, like, fifteen languages fluently, I swear to god. Anyway, turns out the hostel never received my reservation, which makes sense because I’d tried booking it from the top of a mountain. Yoongi took pity on me and let me share his room since they were fully booked.”

Seokjin smiles and touches a hand to his heart. It’s completely performative but it works—Taehyung looks like he’s just passed some silent test and won the lottery. “Adorable. And so noble, Yoongi. Not many people would do that for a stranger.”

Yoongi shrugs.

Undeterred, Seokjin turns his attention to you and Hoseok. “How about the two of you? Set up by friends? Blind date?” His beady eyes are studying you both diligently, eyes raking over your face for the tiniest tell. “Childhood friends turned lovers?”

Hoseok coughs.

“We met at a cartography class,” you explain, voice even despite Seokjin’s prolonged eye contact making you want to lock yourself in the nearest bathroom. Hoseok had nearly given the two of you away, and it was all you could do to recall whatever bullshit you had tried selling Jimin to cover your asses.

Yoongi’s fighting off a smile. Taehyung looks enthralled. “Cartography? Whoa, now that’s something you definitely don’t hear everyday.”

“A lost art, if you ask me,” Seokjin says. “Are either of you geographists, then?”

Hoseok tenses, fidgeting ceasing immediately. The two of you hadn’t talked about this—about how honest you wanted to be, how much would be fabricated—so while this is typically the kind of environment he’d thrive in, you pluck the reins from his hands and take over. “Double majored back in undergrad. Geography and psych.”

“Interesting combo.”

You nod. Not the first time you’d heard that. “Well, there are things you want to do and things you should do, so I did both.”

“And what was it you wanted to do?”

You wave your hand, gesturing vaguely. “Ah, you know. You go into university with all these aspirations, have all these starry-eyed ideas. You’re gonna be someone, you’re gonna help people, you’re gonna make an impact and travel all over and be super important. People are gonna pay to hear you speak and all that bullshit.” Hoseok’s looking at you—you can feel it, but you can also see the blurred outline of his profile. “What did I want to do? Something in human geography, maybe cultural or political geography.”

“The psych degree?” Seokjin continues prodding, and you find you don’t mind it. Hoseok certainly never had. Was always far too busy doing important business things on the opposite side of the country.

“Picked it up about halfway through. Figured I should have a back-up plan in case I wound up being the only geopolitician working at Starbucks.” Your fingers start picking at your pants even though there’s nothing to grab onto. You’d only packed your best, keenly aware of the standards required to be in Jung Hoseok’s inner circle. “A lot of the research and analysis courses overlapped, so I just… did it.”

“That’s very ambitious.” Seokjin’s compliment feels like some weird kind of approval, like another unspoken test Taehyung would grin over passing. “And now? You’d mentioned undergrad.”

“Started a post-bacc in GIS since I liked doing research. Hence the cartography class.”

Hence the cartography class, as if that’s the end of it and there’s nothing else to say. Like you hadn’t dropped out of that to pursue a Master’s in psychology and maybe med school or a PhD to follow, because your mother would be proud of someone with a doctorate, right? You could finally stop hearing—

Did you hear Hoseokie got an internship at Google? They pay $8,000 a month!

Did you hear Hoseokie graduated at the top of his class? His mother said he didn’t even have to apply to any MBA programs, they recruited him! He’s torn between Stanford and the University of Penn. Isn’t that a nice problem to have?

Did you hear that Hoseokie finished his program early? He’s so smart. His parents must be so proud of him.

Did you hear Hoseokie’s moving back? Just an associate vice president position for now, but his mother says there’s already talks of him being promoted to CEO within the next few years.

That’s not to say you weren’t proud of him or that you were resentful. You’ve always been Hoseok’s biggest fan, but Hoseok had moved across the country and still casted a shadow so large it was impossible to not be swallowed up by it, and it’s hard to have all the things you want to hear be said about someone else.

So, yeah, hence the cartography class.

“What about you, Hoseok? You’ve been quiet.”

Hoseok’s never quiet. When you turn to look at him, he’s already staring back. There’s no perpetual million-dollar smile, no wrinkles at the corner of his eyes from laughing too much, smiling too much, enjoying life too much. There’s just a concerned look that you don’t really know what to do with, because you’ve spent so much of your life worrying over Hoseok—over his concerning judge of character, his inability to cook, those kids on the schoolbus, his diet and now his organs—that things feel out of sorts now that the script is flipped.

It takes him a while to come back down to earth, realize someone has asked him a question. “Business,” is all he says.

He’s still staring.

Things are tense.

Weird-tense, because things are never tense between you and Hoseok. Not even back in high school when you’d threatened his then-girlfriend, the one who was cheating on him, and she ratted you out. Hoseok had shown up all red in the face, talked a lot about what would happen if you ruined things for him, but you’d just said alright, Hobi, whatever you say and things had gone back to normal.

But back in your overpriced rental house, things are definitely weird-tense.

“You never told me any of that.”

Ah. You shrug, toweling off your hair after your shower, and rifle through your suitcase for suitable pajamas. “You never asked.”

“I thought the map story was bullshit. You never—you double majored?”

Isn’t this so typical, you think. You could write a biography on Hoseok, all his accomplishments and dreams and all those silly little subplots that connect at the end, and he didn’t even know your college major. Majors. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”

In the bathroom, you go through your skincare routine on autopilot and floss and brush your teeth. Try to rid yourself of the taste of disappointment. Smear cold cream under your eyes and try to pretend the sting is from the scent and not welling tears, because this is not something to cry over. This is stupid and unimportant, and you now have two and a half degrees in psychology that tell you how to deal with it.

But Hoseok’s reluctant to let it go. Wants to talk it to death when you’re more than happy to never discuss it again. You’re twenty-seven, meaning you’ve had at least five years to accept the fact that your mother had given all her pride to Hoseok instead. You’re not really keen on spending another five years feeling inadequate. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He appears in the doorway of the bathroom looking positively distressed. “Mom had only told me about the psych degree and that you were trying to get into UCLA for your Master’s. She never said anything about the geography degree.”

You just shrug. “Things you want to do and things you should, right?”

Hoseok doesn’t buy it. “Was telling me what was going on in your life not something you wanted to do, then?” He looks stung.

You’re tired, still a little fucked up from the jet lag and sitting through a bizarre dinner and serving yourself up on a silver platter to an even more bizarre man that now knew something about you that not even Hoseok had known. “I’m going to sleep,” you say, because you’re even more loose-lipped than usual when tired and prone to irritability, and provoking an argument on the first night of a month-long vacation is not something you’re going to do.

And Hoseok—

Hoseok must get it, you think, because he seems to deflate. Just sighs, shoulders hunched, before he steps aside to let you out of the bathroom. No argument, no thinly-veiled threats, no guilt-trips. Resignation: the same kind Namjoon had spoken about when he’d relayed the story of how the wellness retreat came to be.

A resigned Hoseok is probably a dangerous Hoseok, but you’re too exhausted to give a shit. You’ll strategize in the morning, come up with a new plan.

Except the morning comes and Hoseok doesn’t mention it at all.

He doesn’t say anything about it for the next three days, actually, which are all the same and go like this:

On the morning of day two, Hoseok reluctantly wakes you up just after six. There’s a small offering of fruit and coffee waiting for you on a tray that you promptly ignore in lieu of going back to sleep, which lasts until approximately 6:06am when Hoseok wakes you again. The two of you are scheduled for a morning yoga session at seven-o’clock, which is supposedly mandatory and can’t be canceled.

Taehyung takes the mat next to you, leaning over to ask, “Have you ever done this before?” with a slightly panicked expression on this face.

“Every Saturday morning back home,” you answer. Taehyung chuckles nervously, and your experience becomes painfully clear when you’re nailing your Sugarcane pose and everyone else topples over sideways. Yoongi doesn’t make a sound as he hits the floor, and he’s so quiet that your instructor misses him completely when they fret around the room helping everyone else.

You’re so distracted by helping Yoongi yourself that you miss the deep furrow of Hoseok’s brow. And the crestfallen look on his face. Just another thing he hadn’t known.

After you survive yoga, the two of you sit through an awkward breakfast with Taehyung, Certified Chatterbox, and Yoongi, Not One. Taehyung doesn’t comment on Hoseok’s newfound quietude, which is a little surprising, but Yoongi quirks an eyebrow at you that makes your coffee suddenly taste stale.

Between the hours of nine and one, Hoseok disappears to go to the spa or the gym or the gift shop, because he is literally incapable of not spending money. You’re waiting for him to realize how weird it is for a wellness retreat to sell souvenirs but he never brings it up, just strolls back into the room each time and dumps a concerning amount of magnets into his suitcase.

(You wonder if any of them are for your mother. You wonder what she’ll think about this—you and Hoseok going to a couple’s retreat together, playing pretend. You wonder if bagging someone like Hoseok would finally make her proud of you and how shallow that is.)

After lunch, which is barely less awkward than breakfast, the four of you are ushered into a so-called Meditation Clinic, hosted by a very muscular guy with a baby face and a lot of tattoos. His name is Jungkook, and he nearly sends Hoseok into Sexuality Crisis Episode No. 2. Hoseok doesn’t do a damn second of meditating for three days, just stares at the wall looking like a baby who’d just been tricked into sucking on a lemon. Taehyung chatters away at you the entire time, completely oblivious to Jungkook’s annoyed stare. You share an exasperated look with Yoongi on your way out.

Hoseok returns to your rental home on the evening of day three looking scandalized. Apparently, this is the result of him running into Jimin, who’d offered to read and analyze his birth chart for him. Apparently, this is Jimin’s second job when there’s no new check-ins to harass. Apparently, Hoseok has been “read for filth” by “the stars” and “doesn’t wish to discuss it further.”

(Interestingly, Jimin corners you not long after. There’s a dangerous twinkle in his eye as he says, “Curious?” and gestures to a small room just off the lounge.

“The curtain’s kind of corny, isn’t it?” you say, scoffing as one strand of beads smacks you in the side of the head. “Like, this all feels very mysterious carnival tent and not billion-dollar resort, y’know?”

Jimin takes a seat behind a large desk, completely void of decoration. You’re not sure what you expected—some tarot cards, maybe a crystal ball to sell the illusion—but it’s empty. “You must have Leo placements,” he mutters.

“Moon and Mars, actually. Lucky guess.”

He gestures for you to take the seat in front of him. “Mm, not really luck, they’re just really good at lying.”

“And what am I lying about?”

Jimin ignores your question. Instead, he cocks his head to the side and says, “When’s your birthday?”

“Aren’t you the astrologer? Take a guess.” Jimin just stares, looking endlessly amused. Eventually you huff and answer. “March 15th.”

Overdramatic as always, Jimin fake-gags. “A Pisces sun with a Leo moon? Horrendous, truly. How do you function?”

“Stunted, clearly.”

He actually laughs at this, rewarding you with a brilliant smile and an endearingly crooked front tooth. “No matter.” He shakes his head, blond locks falling elegantly around his face as if arranged by the gods themselves. “You may have a truly tragic sun-moon pairing, but it bodes well for you and that neurotic mess of a best friend you’re fake-dating.”

You choke so hard Jimin actually offers you a glass of water.)

Dinners are spent as a five-piece. Seokjin asks more idiotic questions, such as are eyebrows considered facial hair, which prompts a very deep exhale from Yoongi, and did Adam and Eve have bellybuttons, which sends Taehyung into an existential crisis he’s yet to recover from.

Sometimes there are bonfires on the beach at night during which Jungkook plays an acoustic guitar and sings like an angel. Hoseok is conspicuously absent during these.

He’s also absent during your nightly routine. You shower, smear your skincare all over your face, and brush your teeth alone. You change into your pajamas and crawl into your side of the bed alone. By night three, you’re so annoyed you build a pillow wall between the two of you that you instruct Hoseok, under threat of bodily harm, not to demolish.

On the morning of day five, you’re awake before the sun. You sit in the darkness for a while, listening to Hoseok’s soft breaths on the other side of the pillow wall. He hasn’t gone five days without talking to you in twenty years. Even when he’d threatened you over his high school girlfriend, you were back in his good graces within 48 hours, and all of this for what? Because your mother is kind of an asshole and you’re kind of jealous and Hoseok is kind of self-centered sometimes?

“Hobi,” you say, leaning over the wall to nudge his shoulder. “Hobi, wake up.”

He doesn’t budge, mouth hanging open as he continues snoring quietly, these little hiccups of breath every now and then. All you can do is sigh. “Hoseok.” Nothing. “Jung Hoseok,” you try again, voice hardened into a baseless threat. He keeps snoring.

You groan, run your hands over your face in exasperation. Stupidly, you’d assumed that Hoseok would be easier to wake up now that he’s a Very Important Person worth millions of dollars. Clearly he’s not. So you throw the duvet off your legs and stumble to the bathroom in the dark. Brush your teeth and wash your face and throw on a loose long-sleeved shirt and a pair of yoga pants. It’s the weekend, so you’re free to do as you please, no mandated schedule, and you know exactly who you’re going to see.

Unsurprisingly, Taehyung is on the beach, cross-legged in the center of a large blanket close to the water but far enough away that the tide isn’t a concern. His curls are blowing gently in the breeze and every now and then he lets out a huff as he tries to flick them out of his eyes. No wonder Yoongi took pity on him back in that hostel in Thessaloniki. You’ve barely known him a week and are already hopelessly endeared by him.

“Good morning,” he says, eyes closed. Even the sun is barely awake this early, but it spills across Taehyung’s cheeks in dusky, golden rays nonetheless. “The beach is beautiful at this hour, isn’t it?”

Ah, so Taehyung’s one of those. Chatty at all hours, just like Hoseok. You groan. “Yeah, sure.”

“I have a thermos of coffee if you want some.”

“You just carry around thermoses of coffee?”

Taehyung laughs. “No. I don’t drink it, but I always make some in the morning and put it in a thermos in case today’s the day Yoongi decides to wake up before noon and join me.”

You eye the empty space next to him. “I’m guessing today’s not the day.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “After forcing him to wake up at 6am to do yoga the last few days? I might never see him again.”

“It’d be deserved, in his defense.”

Taehyung seems to think on this. Has a laugh just as airy as the gentle ocean wind, one that makes you feel like you’re the funniest person in the world. So much like Hoseok. You wonder if you’re like Yoongi. If you’re just as closed off but more talkative. You wonder if there’s a reason Yoongi holds his cards so close to his chest or if he simply sees no reason for anyone to know him. He’s got Taehyung and fifteen languages and a lifetime’s worth of stories, what more could he need? “You’re probably right. Where’s your other half?”

“Also asleep.”

“Wow,” Taehyung deadpans, “there are parallels everywhere.”

You don’t know him well enough to know how he means it. If it’s sardonic and taking the piss out of that sort of thing the way Yoongi would mean it, or if he’s genuine how Hoseok would be. So you just hum a maybe-agreement and stare out at the ocean.

Truth be told, you’re not sure why Taehyung was the one you wanted to find. He just seems like the type to know a lot about relationships, people. Seems like someone who’d meet and befriend more people in a day than you would in five years, so someone like that’s gotta have some sort of answers.

“How long have you and Yoongi been together?”

“Oh. A long time. I was nineteen when I went to Greece and Yoongi was twenty-one, but it was such bad timing, you know? Like, I was only two months into a year-long trip, and Yoongi has to be dragged into everything kicking and screaming, so we didn’t reconnect for over a year after we met.”

“That must’ve been hard.”

Taehyung smiles: small, tender, fond. “A little, yeah, but I think that sort of stuff is inconsequential in the long run. What’s a year’s worth of distance when you’ve got the rest of your lives?” He shifts on the blanket, a frown dragging down the corners of his mouth. “Although I went to Australia a month later and got bit by this huge fucking spider, so I guess the rest of my life was questionable for a while. In that case, yeah, it would’ve been really hard.”

You hum again, and in a need to fill the silence, Taehyung asks, “What about you and Hoseok?”

“What about us?”

“How long have you been together?”

We’re not, really, sits on the tip of your tongue. Jimin has already seen straight through the bullshit, so why not Taehyung, too? What’s the worst that can happen—they kick you out because you’re not a proper couple? What does that even mean? You’ve known Hoseok for twenty years. You watched him grow into a successful, kind, intelligent adult from a stupid-as-fuck eight-year-old. You’ve watched him fall in love and get his heart broken and piece it back together again. You know his takeout orders and his favorite color and the movies he still cries over but lies and says he doesn’t. You know the smell of his mother’s perfume when she squeals and hugs you like you’re her own. You’re one of two-hundred followers on Hoseok’s private Instagram account—the one you and Namjoon and Hoseok’s sister always join forces to bully him on when he tries posting a thirst trap.

You know what Hoseok looks like when he cries. You know what he’s like when he’s vulnerable and insecure and you know how to be a pillar for him when he’s like that, and he knows the same about you.

Some couples don’t have half of that, so what does it mean or even matter if your coupling is proper? Isn’t what you have enough?

You sigh. “We grew up together. I’ve known him for twenty years.”

“Oh.” Taehyung sucks in a breath. “I thought you’d said—”

“Yeah,” you interject. “We’re not, like, romantically involved.” Another sigh. “It’s a long story.”

Taehyung just smiles, looks at you with those butter-soft eyes, and you’re diving into twenty years of history and backstory. You tell him about punching the kid on the bus. You tell him about Hoseok’s first serious girlfriend in high school and how it made your stomach hurt—

(“Because you had a crush on him?”

“What? No.”

“Hm. Okay.”)

—and you tell him about your mother and all her misplaced pride. He laughs at every story you tell him about Namjoon and how you and Hoseok wound up at this weird wellness retreat. He stops laughing when you tell him that you and Hoseok haven’t spoken properly in days, and his eyebrows get very serious when you admit it’s the reason you came to find him.

“You just look like someone who might know how to help me fix it,” you finish.

Taehyung tries—and fails—to not look pleased as punch at this. “I’m generally very unhelpful. Well, Yoongi says I’m not-not helpful, but sometimes I try to help too much and wind up making things worse.” You shoot him a dubious look. “I won’t do that this time, though, I promise! Please consider me your official relationship fixer.”

“I’m not sure this is a good idea anymore.”

“It probably isn’t, if I’m being totally honest, but if I can manage to make Min Yoongi fall in love with me, I’m extremely overconfident I can do just about anything.”

“Yeah, that’s fair.”

He claps his hands together. “Great! We can start with you apologizing and telling him you’ve been acting out due to temporary insanity on the basis of being in love with him for years and never saying anything.”

“Excuse me—”

“It’s best to be extremely honest about these sorts of things as to leave no room for misinterpretation or misunderstandings,” Taehyung says, tone condescending like you’re a child though it’s working overtime to not sound that way. At your slack jaw, Taehyung’s eyes grow wide. “Have you seriously never thought about it?”

“Me and Hoseok?”

Of course you’ve thought about it, it was just dismissed immediately each time. You love Hoseok; he’s the most important person in your life, and that’s exactly why you shooed those intrusive thoughts away every time they crept up. You’re not generally one to overthink on consequences, but Hoseok is always an idea you’ve treated with kiddie gloves. Something delicate. Something placed in an enclosure with 21mm glass walls and eighteen security alarms. So, sure, you’ve thought about it in the same way you’ve thought about winning the lottery or telling your PhD advisor to fuck off and moving to some remote island paradise where there’s always someone to wait on you hand and foot.

Of course you’ve thought about you and Hoseok, in the same way you think about all inevitable things (like the heat death of the universe) and also impossibilities, both wistful and staunch.

“Yeah,” you eventually answer. “Of course I have.”

Taehyung blinks owlishly. “I thought for sure you were gonna deny it.” Then the smile is back and it makes his eyes glitter like tiny stars. “But that’s great! The first step is admitting you have a problem, or whatever. Anyway! Do you still have feelings? Yoongi thinks I’m bad at reading people”—Yoongi is right, you think—“but I’ve seen the way he looks at me a million times, and sometimes that’s the same way Hoseok looks at you. So I think you should tell him.”

Snorting, you turn your gaze to the ocean. Even the water seems to still be sleepy at this hour, the waves small and gentle as they lap against the shore. “Maybe later on. Getting rejected a few days into a month-long trip doesn’t really sound like my idea of fun.”

Face scrunched up in disgust, Taehyung whines, “You wouldn’t! You’re gonna waste all this time because you think you’d get rejected when in actuality all you’re doing is wasting some really great glass walls to fuck against.”

You blanch. You can say, with one hundred percent conviction, that you’ve never thought about sleeping with Hoseok. Okay, so that’s not entirely true. There was the one time you had to defend him from Rose Emoji and Hammer and Sickle Twitter when they threatened to eat him and one person suggested sparing him because, excessive wealth aside, he had big dick energy. That’d given you pause. Did Hoseok have a big dick?

“No way,” you retort, “Hoseok is like a Ken doll. Completely smooth from the waist down. Dickless.”

Taehyung heaves a long-suffering sigh. “Another L for the gay community.”

Hoseok sleeps until noon.

You’ve already washed the sea salt from your hair and returned to the rental house with your own small haul of gift shop magnets by the time he stirs awake, groggy and looking worse for wear. “Wha’ time s’it?” he slurs, voice far too deep for you to remain unaffected.

“Just after twelve,” you answer. “I can make you some coffee if you want.”

All you get in response is a muffled groan, Hoseok’s dandelion bed-head disappearing under the fluffy duvet once again. You’ve known him long enough to know that means yes, to know he takes his coffee with far too much cream and sugar, the liquid something close to bone white by the time he’s done adding and mixing.

You set the mug on his nightstand and sit on the edge of the bed, leaning over to peel down the duvet and scratch at his scalp. “Coffee’s ready, sunshine.” Eyes still sealed shut, you move your fingers lower to tickle at his neck. “C’mon, Hobi, you’re pissing away another beautiful day in paradise.” You don’t bother telling him it’s overcast and drizzling; not like it matters, because Hoseok groans again and swats your hand away before shoving his head under his pillow.

He says something you can’t catch, words unintelligible beneath layers of down. “What’d you say?” you ask. When his head pops up, expression frustrated and cheeks flushed red, you poke the dimple in his left cheek. He has to fight off a smile.

“I asked why you’re being so nice to me.”

You frown. “What do you mean? Why wouldn��t I be nice to you?”

Hoseok sighs. Adjusts until he’s sitting up, long, skinny legs tangled in the comforter. Something about his hands is so interesting he’s unable to focus on anything else. “Because I’ve been a dick to you.” When you move to protest, he tacks on, “And not just on this trip, either. For a while.” For a second, you think he might cry. Hoseok used to cry a lot as a kid—had too much empathy for such a small body to know what to do with so all the excess tended to leak out. “God, there was so much I didn’t know? Like your majors? And the yoga? I just…” He trails off, looks lost. Picks up the coffee mug just to do something with his hands. “It feels bad. It just feels really bad.”

You return his sigh, wishing Hoseok was a little less honest. Always the first to put himself out there, be vulnerable, and sometimes it’s nice and sometimes it makes you feel guilty. “It’s okay.”

“It isn’t,” he argues.

You hold up a hand. “I know where you’re coming from, and I get it. I would probably feel bad, too, if I were in your position.” He whimpers, earning a soft laugh from you. “But I’m telling you it’s okay. I don’t blame you, all right? I never have. I don’t lay in bed at night agonizing over it. This isn’t like that for me.”

“Then what’s it like?”

You hum, knowing this is a moment to handle with care. You can’t be reckless here. So you think it over, and you say, “It’s… I don’t think this happened because you don’t care, because I know you do. I know I’m your best friend in every way someone can be your best friend, and you’re my best friend in all the ways someone can be mine. It’s just that those two things look different, is what I’m saying. And I think that’s okay.”

“It’s unbalanced.”

You nod. “Yeah, maybe it is, but sometimes that happens. It hasn’t always been unbalanced.”

This seems to calm him, and his smile is slow, reluctant, but it’s there nonetheless. “Okay.” He exhales the weight of the world. “Okay. I’d still like to be better, though.”

“We have all the time in the world, Seok.”

You normally eat most of your meals with Taehyung and Yoongi anyway, but since your conversation on the beach, Taehyung attaches to you like a limpet.

The first time had been unnerving. He’d cornered you outside the dining hall, stomach rumbling even as he demanded to know everything, please spare nothing, no detail is too small. There hadn’t been much to report, just that the two of you had talked and things were better.

“Did you tell him you’re in lo—” had earned him an elbow to the ribs.

He hasn’t asked again.

But he’s still hard to shake during mealtime, especially breakfast, because he wakes up ready to talk, conversation locked and loaded on his tongue. Yoongi, of course, doesn’t talk at all, so he offloads onto you and Hoseok, who’s too good-natured to ask for some peace and quiet.

“Seokjin asked me last night if water was wet,” he says, spearing a long piece of pineapple on his fork. “Like, obviously it’s wet? It’s water.”

“It isn’t, though,” you argue. “Water is just water. Wet is a state—”

Taehyung, cheeks bulging around the fruit like a hamster, frowns. “Huh? No. California is a state.”

Yoongi faceplants onto the table.

“No, Tae.” You shake your head. “Like, a state of being. Water makes other things wet, but it’s not wet itself.”

His frown deepens. Looks to Yoongi for help, clarification, but he’s still face-down, so he looks to Hoseok instead. He, very steadfastly, says, “She’s weirdly smart, man. I dunno. I’m not arguing with her.”

“Why? Because you’re also—” Another elbow to the ribs. He coughs, makes a very valiant attempt to look cool, calm, and collected. “You’re also very smart, Hoseok,” he amends. “I am very interested in hearing what you have to say.”

“In business, though. I’m not really smart in science stuff.”

“Interesting,” Taehyung muses. “Would you say you’re smart in love?”

Hoseok is good-natured enough to look genuinely confused. “Huh?”

Yoongi finally picks his head up. Sends Taehyung some kind of look that must mean something to only the two of them, because Taehyung just sighs, put-upon, and shoves a piece of cantaloupe in his mouth. He doesn’t talk to Hoseok for the rest of the day.

Two weeks pass in a blur.

The schedule remains the same. Yoga, shared meals, weird quasi-therapy sessions which you have come to realize are just minor cult recruiting, bonfires on the beach. You and Hoseok stay up late talking and barely make it on time to whatever activity you have first thing in the morning. Jimin corners you at least once a week to talk about your “fucked up and frankly demonic” birth chart because he refuses to believe it’s real. Jungkook offers to teach the four of you how to surf but abandons that five minutes into the first session after Yoongi refuses to touch sand and Hoseok nearly passes out from seeing Jungkook shirtless.

…Which Taehyung catches, of course, because he just sidles up alongside you. Says, “Ooh, interesting,” again, in a really smug way, before intercepting Jungkook and leading him far, far away from the beach. You think he winks at you over his shoulder.

Bastard.

But it works, much to your surprise. Of course the two of you have talked it to death, but part of Hoseok’s bid to be better also seems to include being more tactile. Which… is nice, you’ll admit. Hoseok’s fingers are long and slender and perfectly manicured, his hands soft, so it feels nice when they play with your hair or scratch gently at your back or hold your hand, but it also fills you with an anxious kind of dread.

Uncertainty, maybe.

You know how these things work. Forced proximity, only one bed. You’re two-thirds of a psychologist, after all, so you wouldn’t be surprised if Hoseok is just caught up in the moment, at the relief of overcoming an obstacle and making it to the other side. (God knows the bender he’d gone on after graduating business school attests to that.)

Curiously, none of that stops you from leaning into it.

It doesn’t feel weird. It doesn’t feel awkward or strange or anything besides natural. Hoseok’s bare face is the last thing you see before you fall asleep and the first thing you know you’ll see when you wake up, and just having that certainty, that security, makes the early mornings bearable. It makes them something worth looking forward to. It makes all the tension in your body unwind. Makes you pliable, has you laughing freely and leaning into Hoseok’s side during all those meals Taehyung spends talking. Except he’s not talking so much anymore—now, he’s studying. Smiling. Sending little glances only you and Yoongi catch.

Everything comes to a head at another of Seokjin’s weird dinners.

“A question for your discussion,” he begins, and you swear you hear Yoongi groan under his breath. When you look over at him, he’s nonchalantly chewing his food, no indication at all that he made a sound for the first time in two and a half weeks, so you convince yourself you’re hallucinating. “If no one ever sneezed again, how long do you think it’d take you to notice?”

Yoongi must feel you looking this time, because he offers up a dead stare in return. While Taehyung and Hoseok debate their answers—

(“Well, I work in an office, so probably not long.”

“Ah. I work from home, but I think it’d be pretty obvious? Especially during allergy season.”

“Yeah, for sure. It’s one of those things you’d definitely notice. It’s like—you know when you’re cooking and finally turn off the vent hood and the quiet is a little disorienting? It’d be like that, I think. Like, you definitely—”

“You notice something’s absence more than you notice its presence.”

“Yeah! Yes, exactly.”)

—that dead stare of Yoongi’s morphs into something more mischievous, slow like molasses. He catches your eye, winks, and fakes a yawn.

Taehyung startles, like he forgot Yoongi had been sitting next to him the entire time. “Oh, you’ll have to excuse him,” he says, cheeks dusting pink. “Someone told him once he’d been a rock in a past life and it catches up with him every now and then.”

Seokjin lets out a high-pitched giggle, looking absolutely delighted at this. “A rock, huh? Fascinating. Please tell me all about it.”

“Well, I think a lot of people would assume igneous, but that’s always seemed a little shallow to me, you know? I think he’s more metamorphic—”

As Taehyung rambles on, Seokjin turns his attention to you and Hoseok. “What about you two? What do you think you were like in a past life?”

“He had to have been a monk or something,” you declare, poking the crater of one of Hoseok’s dimples. “He’s been hoarding good karma for centuries and cashed it all in for this lifetime.”

“Aish,” Hoseok replies, cheeks matching Taehyung’s as he scratches at the back of his neck. “I don’t know about all that. It’s just luck, isn’t it?”

You look at Hoseok. Really look at him—at the way his lips curl around his teeth as he tries not to laugh at the way Taehyung’s still going on about rocks; at the way he pouts and gags a little whenever he takes a sip of champagne; at the way the stars in his eyes turn to glitter when Seokjin gives him an opening to talk about his dog. You look at Hoseok and you think yeah, it could be luck, but it feels more monumental.

It feels predestined.

And you’re not sure what that means. Of course friendships can feel predestined; you’re not one to discount the importance of platonic relationships. You’re not sure what it means in the context of yours and Hoseok’s friendship. You’re not sure if your stomach hurt back when Hoseok got a girlfriend back in high school because it was predestined to be platonic.

You frown as you swirl the wine around your glass.

Truth be told, you’re not sure about much of anything right now.

“Hey,” Hoseok says, patting your thigh to get your attention. You’re in a dress. A nice one: silk, a slit up the side, drapes perfectly over the lines of your body and clings where it should. Does absolutely nothing to spare you from the heat of Hoseok’s skin through the fabric. “You okay?”

You’re fucked, is what you are.

“Yeah,” you reply, offering what you can only hope is a convincing smile. “Think I drank this a little too fast.”

“Do you want to go back to the house? We don’t have to stay. Taehyung’s still talking about the difference between limestone and sandstone, so I don’t think we’ll miss anything.”

You nod, dropping your voice to a hushed whisper. “Yeah, that might be a good idea. They look like they’re about ten seconds away from mixing up geography and geology and being really offended when I don’t know anything about rocks.”

The two of you stand, and Hoseok’s hand immediately moves to the small of your back. Warm, warm, warm, and you can’t convince yourself it’s the wine that’s making you lightheaded.

“Oh-ho-ho,” Taehyung chimes, looking pleased as punch at the sight of Hoseok’s hand at your back. Throws an elbow into Yoongi’s ribs. He doesn’t even flinch. “And where are the two of you going?”

“Uh, home?” Hoseok answers at the same time you say, “Fuck off, Taehyung,” because your face feels like it’s on fire and you’ve had enough of his ribbing.

Except, as it turns out, some amalgamation of home and fuck off sounds a whole lot like home, to fuck, and Taehyung might’ve been serious about the matchmaking thing, but even this kind of misunderstood forwardness has him choking on his sip of wine. Yoongi slaps at his back in the most patronizing way you’ve ever seen someone try to save another person from choking.

“Is he okay?” Hoseok asks, completely oblivious.

You shrug. “No. In so many ways.”

Through his choking, Taehyung manages a glare. “Takes one to know one,” he childishly responds, and you roll your eyes at the exact moment Seokjin grins and does a little wiggle, starts up a very enthusiastic fight, fight, fight! chant.

The thing is—Taehyung is drunk. You know he’s drunk, so him overriding Seokjin’s chant with one of his own—kiss, kiss, kiss!—certainly excuses and explains his behavior, it does absolutely nothingto extinguish the wildfire that’s sparked in your belly.

It’s a bad idea.

You and Hoseok have kissed before, when you were twelve and he was thirteen and he landed on you during a game of Spin the Bottle. Everyone around you had erupted into excited jeering, but the two of you shared a mortified look before he shuffled over on his hands and knees looking less like he was about to have his first kiss and more like he was being dragged to his death.

Looking back, that had been offensive, but he’d still puckered his lips and kissed the pout off your face all the same.

So it’s a bad idea, and you should tell Taehyung that the two of you have already kissed and to knock it off, because the second time you kiss shouldn’t only be to shut him up, but you’re both a little drunk in general and a lot drunk on the thought of redemption. If you pursed your lips the way he had fifteen years ago, leaned in close enough for him to smell your perfume, would he wear another mortified look? Or would he—

Fuck it, you think.

Because, once he realizes you’re serious, that you’re actually considering kissing him, the look he wears is not mortified. He looks a little awestruck—slightly dumb, if you’re being honest; definitely dazed—and it takes all that wildfire raging in your gut and unleashes it. Inspires just enough confidence to step closer, lean in; close enough to feel the warmth emanating from Hoseok’s skin, but still far enough for him to pull away if he wanted to.

Hoseok doesn’t want to.

And his hands are already at the small of your back, so it’s so easy to pull you closer. So easy to move them to your hips, grip a little tighter just in case you start to drift away. So easy to press his lips to yours and kiss the absolute life out of you.

You've kissed a lot of people over the span of fifteen years. None of them had lips as soft as Hoseok’s.

He must’ve done a lot of kissing, too, because the way he moves his mouth is sinful. Precise and confident, just a tease of his tongue. You can feel his smile against your lips and it nearly makes your knees buckle. Reminds you, more than the taste and smell of him, that it’s Hoseok you’re kissing, and the thought alone has you gripping at his dress shirt.

Any other time he’d complain about the wrinkles.

Not this one, though.

“Are you nervous?”

The question finds you halfway out of your dress. “Not really,” you answer. “I think my strap is stuck.”

A nervous laugh is punched out of him, but he moves to help you nonetheless. Gently touches your arm and spins you around, fingers ghosting along your skin as he untangles the strap and pushes it off your shoulder. The fabric pools on the floor, emerald and glittering, as you step out of it, and you laugh. It’s been three days since you and Hoseok kissed. The two of you have done a lot of kissing since then, and he’s still so hesitant; eyes still widen every time you lean in close, like he can’t believe it.

Hoseok is still so shy.

“Why would I be nervous?” you ask, because keeping him talking is the best way to keep him out of his head. “It’s you.”

He whimpers, like that’s the worst possible reasoning you could’ve given him. “Yeah, that’s exactly why I’m nervous.”

“It’s okay if you are,” you say, turning around to fully face him, and Hoseok looks struck. Torn between the way his nerves are eating him alive and the sight of you in just a pair of lacy panties. “We can do whatever you want, Seok.”

“I—no.” He swallows hard. “No, no, I think—we should definitely… you know.” You quirk an eyebrow. “My dick is fighting for its life right now.”

You dare a glimpse downward. Hoseok’s dick doesn’t look like it’s fighting for its life, outlined and half-hard in his expensive trousers, but what do you know? “Taehyung asked me about your dick once.”

“What.”

“Well, not exactly. He’d asked me if I ever thought about having sex with you—”

Hoseok whimpers again. “Please do not tell me what your answer was.”

“—and I told him you were like a Ken doll.” At his questioning look, you clarify, “You know. Dickless. Smooth from the waist down.”

“Wow. Why would you tell me that? Not gonna lie, it’s a little emasc—”

“I might need to see it. For science.”

Hoseok startles. “M-my dick?”

“Yeah. For science,” you repeat. “Taehyung is gonna be thrilled. He called your dicklessness, and I quote, an L for the gay community.”

Your best friend seems to ponder this. His hands hover uselessly in the air, and it’s ten seconds, twenty—you think he might call the whole thing off, but then he shrugs and undoes his belt, the metal clanky in his haste. “For the gays,” he explains as he pushes his pants down his thighs.

“Of course,” you agree, nodding seriously. “They deserve it.”

“What else did Taehyung say?”

“Nothing much. Just that we need to get our shit together because we’re wasting some really good windows to fuck against.”

Hoseok doesn’t fuck you against the windows the first time.

The first time is slow and unhurried. Because it’s Hoseok, he lights a candle and the two of you take your time touching, learning, shaking off the dregs of apprehension. He flushes crimson and nearly does a runner anytime something goes less than perfectly, and it’s so endearing you have to stop yourself from sinking through the mattress under the weight of all your affection.

The second time is all raw, desperate need. After a day of sly smiles reserved only for you, Hoseok meets you in the bathroom at the end of another night. There’s a spot of toothpaste on your sleep shirt that he disregards at the sight of your bare legs. His eyes meet yours in the mirror and then there’s only enough time for anticipation to start simmering beneath your skin before he’s moving.

(Technically, the third time is only a few hours later. Just like it has everyday since you arrived, your alarm goes off at six sharp, time for yoga, but instead of ushering you out of bed, Hoseok hits the snooze button and pulls you closer. Fits himself to your back and slides your panties to the side, speaks an is this okay? in his impossibly deep morning voice, and then you’re nodding your head and he’s pushing inside.)

Now, though—

Nerves have been shaken off. Another weird dinner has been sat through to which you’d worn a two-piece outfit, the top cropped just enough to show off a strip of skin—modest enough for the motley crew you share your evenings with, but apparently scandalous enough to drive Hoseok insane. He’s all barely-contained energy beside you, hand gripping your thigh, not paying a lick of attention to the conversation.

You lean over, speak the question just below his ear. “You okay?” Goosebumps erupt all over his skin.

“We need to leave right now.”

“Really? Why? You aren’t having a good time?”

Hoseok makes you pay for your smart mouth. Has you pressed against the expanse of windows in your bedroom, stripped down to just your underwear and the top he insisted you keep on, only your shoulders pressed against the glass. Presses wet, open-mouth kisses along your calves, the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, and then he’s canting your hips forward to nip at you over your underwear. More silk and lace—thin enough to feel the warmth of his breath, then nothing but warmth when he licks a stripe up your folds, spit seeping through the fabric.

“Fuck.”

He does it once, twice more before he leans back, refuses to meet your gaze. Your brows furrow because your hands are tangled in his hair, tugging as you try to get him to look up at you, wanting to see the evidence of your arousal on his face, but then he’s smirking out of the side of his mouth, hands reaching for your underwear.

You register the cold air of the room on your skin before the sound of fabric ripping.

Then you’re saying, “What the fuck, Hobi, did you just—” and he’s laughing as he nods, not a care in the world except getting his mouth back on you. He licks and sucks until you��re nearly trembling with the need to come, begging him to let you, and you think if you were anyone else he’d drag it out longer. Make you beg a little more. But regardless of whatever he’s told himself over the years in order to cope, Hoseok can’t deny you anything, so he presses two fingers inside, right on the spot that whites out your vision.

He touches himself to the sight of your orgasm.

Rolls the condom on. Runs his cock through your folds, tells you to slick him up. As he presses inside again, crowding close, breath fogging the glass behind you, he tells you to thank Taehyung for the idea.

You’re gonna have to thank him for a whole lot more than that.

In hindsight, you should’ve known Namjoon was nothing more than a dirty little schemer.

There’s three days left of your stay, and the question had been nagging at you ever since you cut through the reception area to get to the meditation class you were running late for. Jimin, of course, gave you shit for it: wordlessly, because he was busy checking in a man with far too much luggage. A man who was checking in alone, and that was not a thing, so far as you were aware, so your curiosity was to be expected.

“Can I just ask,” you say, once again in Jimin’s strange little room behind the beaded curtain. “Why a couple’s retreat?”

“Huh?”

“Isn’t it less effective for Seokjin’s weird cult? Like, statistically speaking, you’ve got to be more likely to recruit single people, right?”

“Huh?”

You blink. “What part is confusing you? And don’t say the cult, because I had that pegged on, like, day three.”

“No,” Jimin agrees quickly, “Seokjin is definitely officiating a cult. I just—why do you think this is a couple’s retreat?”

“Uh, because Namjoon said it was? That’s why me and Hoseok are faking being a couple—”

“Were. Were faking.”

“—and it just sort of made sense, considering the people who showed up after us were literally a couple.”

Jimin sighs, schools his expression to the one he always uses when he has to be condescending and speak to you as if you’re a woefully stupid child. “I don’t know who Namjoon is, but I’m assuming he lied in order to get you two to do… exactly what you’ve done.”

“What.”

“This isn’t a couple’s retreat, buttercup, just a regular ol’ wellness one.”

“That Seokjin also uses as his cult recruitment headquarters.”

“Yep.”

“I feel betrayed.”

“Pisces usually do.”

“Excuse me—”

“You’re excused,” he dismisses, shooing you out of his closet.

Despite his innocent nature, Hoseok isn’t nearly as shocked as you to learn Namjoon deceived him.

That’s life, I guess, was all he’d said, the picture of comfort and nonchalance as he lounged in bed, wrapped in a fluffy robe, arm behind his head like a king. You had been shocked—no longer at the betrayal, but at Hoseok’s quick acceptance of it. Hoseok from a month ago would’ve been flustered and on the brink of a meltdown. Hoseok today just shrugs it off.

“I’m just saying.” He dangles a stem of grapes over his mouth like an asshole. “Jimin called it a wellness retreat, right? I didn’t get roped into Seokjin’s cult and we’re… well, whatever we are, so a win is a win. Seems like wellness to me.”

“Whatever we are,” you mimic, pitching Hoseok’s voice up a dozen octaves. “Wow, how romantic.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes, pats the spot next to him on the bed. “If you’d like to come over here, we can have the highly-anticipated ‘what are we’ discussion that no one in the history of human relationships has ever once dreaded having.”

You wave him off. “No need. It’s you, and I trust you, so I don’t think we’re going to go back home and you’re going to write this off as a weird forced proximity thing and ghost me.” You finish the application of your facemask, laughing to yourself at Hoseok’s offended scoff. “Besides, constantly having to defend you from Rose Emoji and Hammer and Sickle Twitter is the pinnacle of devotion and love. That’s the kinda shit that forms a trauma bond.”

“For my peace of mind, then.”

“Fine. Hoseok, I love you dearly as my best friend and I’m probably halfway in love with you as a romantic partner, and even though this vacation has been incredible and rewarding and you are very good at sex, I am also very much looking forward to having my own space again because you are almost impossible to live with.” You roll your lips at the sour expression marring his face. “That said: you still owe me dinner at the Brazilian spot near your office, so I would like it very much if you took me there as a date. You can tell Namjoon I’m your girlfriend if you wish.”

“And are you?”

“Ugh. Of course I am, Hobi. What do you take me for? You think I’m the kind of woman who agrees to spend a month in the rainforest and almost get roped into some sketchy cult with anyone who asks?”

“Well, I don’t know! Maybe!”

“You’re impossible. Do you want to be my boyfriend or not?”

At this, Hoseok’s face lights up so bright it puts the sun to shame. Smiles so big you can hardly believe it. “I would love nothing more.”

During your last group meal, Seokjin invites the new guy to join you.

Taehyung is enthralled immediately, gesturing for him to take the empty seat to his left. “Hello, nice to meet you! I’m Kim Taehyung and this is Min Yoongi. Are you here for the wellness retreat part or the cult part?”

Seokjin chokes on a slice of mango.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Kim Taehyung. I’m Park Bogum,” the man responds. “I’m here for the cult part.”

Seokjin promptly stops choking.

Saying goodbye to this place, these people, is bittersweet.

The last four weeks have undoubtedly been the weirdest of your life, but they’ve more than made up for it with what you’ve been given in return: a blossoming relationship with Hoseok, Taehyung and Yoongi’s friendship. Even Jimin and Jungkook come to see you off, and Jimin surprises you by wrapping you in a tight hug, assuring you that you’ll still be his second-favorite Pisces long after you’re gone.

“Wow, rude. Who’s the first?”

“Yoongi.”

“Yoongi? How is he your favorite? He doesn’t talk!”

Jimin smirks, smug and patronizing. “Exactly. Have a safe trip, buttercup.”

Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t say much at all. You suspect he showed up only to look hot and catapult Hoseok into his final sexuality crisis, and that suspicion is confirmed when he leans against the wall and pushes his hair away from his forehead. The sound that comes out of Hoseok is part whimper, part pain and suffering, and truly catastrophic for his ego.

“Get it together,” you plead, but it falls on deaf ears. Hoseok is in a Jungkook-induced haze until you’re halfway to the airport, Taehyung chattering the entire way.

And then—

And then.

“Well, that was fucking weird, huh?” Yoongi asks.

Hoseok is running late.

He’s gotten better at equalizing his work-life balance since returning from your trip, but he still gets held up sometimes. A lot to catch up on, he’d said, and you can understand that. He’d spent his first week back doing nothing but haranguing Namjoon, so that surely ate up a lot of time.

Still, he’s never been quite this late.

The waitstaff are looking at you with concern. They used to look at you only to see if your water needed topping up, so this is an unfortunate development, especially for someone who looks as you currently do. Any person in this overpriced Brazilian steakhouse would be honored to even sit at the same table as you, let alone be able to call you their date, so Hoseok really has a lot of nerve.

You’re halfway to telling him as much over a very angry text message when he appears in front of you, face flushed, chest heaving, hairline dotted with sweat. “Sorry I’m late,” he apologizes, leaning down to press a kiss to your cheek. “Got a little caught up.”

“No shit,” you whisper-yell, “that waiter over there looked like he was about ready to call the cops on me. I probably can’t even afford the water in this place.”

Hoseok grimaces. “In my defense, I have a very good reason.”

“Oh yeah?” you retort, crossing your arms over your chest. “And what is that?”

Wordlessly, Hoseok hands over a garishly orange shopping bag emblazoned with a very familiar logo and brand name. Suddenly, it feels impossible to breathe. “You didn’t. Hobi, tell me you didn’t—”

“You know how much bullshit you have to go through for one of those things? God, I had to put in a request. Not to mention it was like fourteenseparate credit checks…”

You tune him out. Instead, you peek inside the bag with what you can only describe as pure dread. Not at the implication, because that has you thrumming with joy and affection, but at the cost of—

“You got me a Birkin.”

Hoseok looks at you like you’ve sprouted a second head. “Um. That’s what you said you wanted, right?”

“You said you weren’t spending that much money on anyone who isn’t your future spouse.”

The look doesn’t budge. “Yeah? I’m clearly not following.”

“When did you put in the request?” If your voice is audibly waterlogged, Hoseok doesn’t mention it, but you can feel the tears pooling at your lash line nonetheless.

The confusion finally clears and gives way to another brilliant smile. A little bashful, too, because he hides behind the menu and refuses to look at you. Says something you don’t catch, can’t hear over the dim chatter of this restaurant, and he groans in pleased faux-annoyance when you tell him to repeat himself.

“I said… I put it in the night you kissed me.”

It feels like you’ve been punched in the chest. “You’ve known that long?”

And Hoseok—Hoseok ducks behind the menu again, but this time you can hear him loud and clear: “I’ve known a lot longer than that.”

author's note pt. 2: if you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading! i really hope you enjoyed this. as always, any reblogs are greatly appreciated and my inbox is always open for feedback. ♡

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