#taegi fluff

[borathae]

"This is a little story about how Yoongi and Taehyung spend their days when the rest of the family isn't home."

Pairing: platonic Vampire!Taehyung x Vampire!Yoongi

Genre: Slice of Life, Fluff

Warnings: there are no warnings because this is nothing but sweet fluff and happiness, they go on a little ride with their horses, they're so important to me, hinted polyamory

Wordcount: 2.8k

a/n: i love them i love them i love them 😭 my two babies :( the header is ruining me btw, they're so pretty fandsfna

Yoongi is listening to music. It plays on his speaker and fills the room with its melodies. He already made a lot of progress with your witch office today. 

You, Jungkook and Hoseok are currently visiting Emma and Seokjin in Gordes for around two weeks, which meant that Yoongi finally had time to prepare his surprise for you. There is no reason for it, nor a special occasion, it is as simple as that Yoongi loves to make you happy. There is no better feeling in the world than knowing that he could make you happy. And because your witch business has been going so well lately, Yoongi decided that it is only fitting to surprise you with your very own witch office. Until recently, you made your potions in the main kitchen which often ended in stuff getting into your food and turning it inedible. Yoongi hopes that by surprising you with your very own kitchen, he can make it a lot easier for you. He can’t wait to get your reaction. He already started dreaming of it and feeling really giddy once he wakes up.

The room he chose for the surprise has been unused for decades. Yoongi already forgot its original purpose, but he liked that you had a window to look out of and beams to hang your flowers from. The floors were rotted and the wallpaper peeled off from age. Yoongi spent the first two days ripping everything out and then spent another five days replacing the floors and wallpaper. He went for a dark shade of your favourite colour and added wood panelling to bring it together. He also fixed the fireplace, making it so you could actually use it, and rewired the electricity so you wouldn’t die as you turned on a lamp. 

It is day eight today and Yoongi is currently busy with getting the kitchen working again, kneeling on the new floors, when a familiar scent hints his nose. 

He pokes his head out from under the sink, meeting Taehyung’s eyes. The latter seems to be back from a ride. Horse follows him with his normal scent and he is still dressed in old-fashioned riding clothes.

“You have made impressive progress”, Taehyung says, looking around the room, “I love the colours.”

“Thanks.”

Yoongi sticks his head back under the sink. 

Taehyung rounds the kitchen counter and sits down next to Yoongi. He pokes his arm, making Yoongi move his head again.

“What?”

“You are very cool, hyung.” 

“Thanks”, he says and looks back at the sink. He is almost done. 

“Do you want to come with me for another ride later? The weather is lovely today.”

“I don’t know yet. I still gotta rewire the stove.”

“I can help you with that.”

“No offense, but if you helped you’d kill her accidentally.”

Taehyung nudges Yoongi’s arm, “you are mean.”

“Sorry Tae. You can help me with the cabinets though. I’m sure you can paint them prettier than this.”

“Yes, indeed I can”, Taehyung giggles excitedly, “oh hyung, this makes me very happy. I shall change clothing and begin painting right away”, he says and stumbles to his feet, “will we go on a ride later?”

“Fine. I’ll ride with you.” 

One can call them old-fashioned or stuck in time, but the two vampires put great care into what clothing they wear for riding. Their petticoats and shirts are tailored, their vests hug their figures and their pants are perfectly ironed. They also make sure that their boots are polished and their leather gloves fitted. And while Taehyung goes for a colour pallet of whites and blues, Yoongi is dressed entirely in black. 

“Where shall we ride?” Taehyung asks, sitting proudly on his horse. 

“Where did you go?” Yoongi asks, sitting just as proudly. 

They pass their stable workers, greeting them with a nod of their heads. 

“I went west to the forests.” 

“Mhm. Wanna go east? For a change?”

There are hills waiting east. The grasses are tall and from the highest point, one has view of the town. 

“Yes, we could do that”, Taehyung says and gives his horse a gentle kick to increase its tempo. 

Yoongi follows next to Taehyung, looking left and right in case enemies showed up. It is a lingering habit from a more dangerous life. One he can’t seem to shake even now in times of peace. 

The two vampires put some distance between the stables and them, when Taehyung breaks the silence with a deep sigh.

Yoongi looks at him and the smile he sports.

“Isn’t the weather wonderful?”

“Mhm, it’s not bad.”

“Indeed it is nice. I think we made a lot of progress with the room today.”

“Yeah, I think so too. I can start with furnishing tomorrow.”

“Oh truly? I shall hurry up with painting then.”

“Mhm  I can help.” 

“That is very lovely of you, but truly I can manage.”

“Mhm. Okay.”

Taehyung looks at Yoongi, giving him a smile. One Yoongi retorts shyly.

“I think it is so romantic of you to surprise her. She is very lucky to have you.”

“No”, Yoongi shakes his head, “I’m lucky to have her. She makes me happy, so I wanna make her happier.”

“Well that is wonderful to hear. I can see that you make her very happy, hyung.” 

Yoongi flusters, rubbing his neck nervously.

“I try”, he murmurs, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. 

It isn’t long and the two vampires reach the top of the hill. They stay seated on their horses, looking at the town not far from here. The sun is hiding behind clouds today, which makes being outside comfortable with the two light-sensitive vampires. Despite the hiding sun, the day was still bright and the view of the town clear.

“This will never lose its beauty”, Taehyung says.

“Mhm, yeah”, Yoongi agrees.

Taehyung inhales the fresh air and sighs happily.

“May I help in decorating her office? I have ideas which she could really enjoy.”

“Yeah, you’re better at it anyways.”

“Thank you. I really enjoy interior design.”

“I know. You like it”, Yoongi says, unknowingly filling Taehyung’s heart with warmth. He knows him so well. 

Taehyung turns his horse so he was looking at Yoongi. He grins. Yoongi studies it.

“What?”

“What say you to a race, hyung?” 

“A race?”

“Yes, we shall race back to the stables and the winner gets one wish granted by the other person.”

“Alright, if you want to”, Yoongi says and turns his horse. He rolls his shoulders, tightening his grip on the reins, “I’m not easily beat though.”

“Neither am I”, Taehyung says and gets into position, “we will start after the count of-”

“Hya!” Yoongi doesn’t let him finish as he commands his horse into a fast gallop.

“Yoongi! You cheat!” Taehyung screams after him and tells his horse to run, “I wasn’t finished explaining the rules!”

“There are no rules! You’re just slow!” Yoongi calls back and runs faster. 

Taehyung furrows his brows. He is overtaken with playful competitiveness, speeding up with tears gathering in his eyes from the wind. He laughs as he does, feeling incredibly light in his heart.

“You are a total cheat, hyung!”

He passes Yoongi very soon, laughing and cheering loudly because the stables were too close to allow Yoongi to catch up.

“Yah, you brat!” Yoongi laughs, trying to catch up but it is too late. Taehyung races past the stables, slowing down his horse in front of them.

“I won!” he cheers, throwing his hands in the air in celebration.

Yoongi doesn’t slow down. Yoongi gallops past him.

“The last to get to the forests loses!” he calls out. 

“You are playing unfair games!” Taehyung complains and rides off. 

Yoongi has already put significant distance between them and he needs to catch up. 

“You are so unfair, hyung!” Taehyung laughs, meeting laughter as Yoongi’s answer.

It has been decades since the two vampires raced each other. It was the beginning of the 1850s and Namjoon hadn’t shown himself in almost seven years. Life at the estate was quiet. Yoongi hid in his wing for most of the time, while Jimin and Taehyung tried to learn how to function normally. One day, Yoongi took them out for a ride and he raced them until the horses were happily tired and the two recovering vampires had forgotten all about the past decades with Namjoon. At this time, Yoongi didn’t really know about what Namjoon put them through, let alone that he still regularly finds them to inflict more pain, so asking them for a race was merely out of his own desire. 

Back then, the vampires didn’t show that they enjoyed it. No laughter was shared, the conversations were dry and their faces stoic. Their emotionless hearts didn’t really feel the need to show that they enjoyed the time with each other. But one must know that if emotionless vampires spend time together even without their emotions, it was a very obvious sign that they enjoyed each other’s company.

Today it was obvious that they liked the time spend together. Today, Taehyung feels vast of air when he sees the utter happiness on Yoongi’s features as the older vampire looks over his shoulder. His black hair is tousled from the wind, his pale cheeks are flushed pink and his dark brown eyes are crinkled in laughter. They are spilling tears as well because of the wind.

“You’re slow”, he teases and looks back to the front. 

In this moment, Taehyung doesn’t even care that he is slow and that he will most definitely lose. He saw Yoongi’s honest smile and can still hear him laugh like an excited boy at the candy shop. He sounds unlike the Yoongi he knows and yet he never sounded more like himself. 

“You are such a cheater, hyung! I would have won”, Taehyung calls out and squeaks in laughter. Riding a horse has never felt more freeing before. 

Yoongi wins as expected, celebrating his win by jumping off his horse and doing a little dance. 

Taehyung joins him soon, placing his horse next to Yoongi’s and jumping off. 

He runs to Yoongi and connects his palm with Yoongi’s arm. Yoongi stumbles back, teasing him by humming a victorious melody.

“You cheater. I won back at the stables”, Taehyung whines.

“Yeah and then I won right now”, Yoongi teases and does a little butt wiggle, “I won, I won, I won.”

Taehyung should be mad at him for cheating. He should whine about it more, but he can’t find it in himself to do so. 

Yoongi looks so happy. So carefree. And it doesn’t feel awkward between them. 

Taehyung feels overwhelmed in happiness. He closes the distance between them and takes Yoongi into a hug.

“Tae, come on”, Yoongi tenses up instantly. His butt wiggles stop, but a deep chuckle rumbling in his chest lets Taehyung know that he is still feeling good.

“My wish is to give you a hug”, Taehyung murmurs and nuzzles his face into the crook of Yoongi’s neck.

“Yeah? My wish is to not get hugged. Tae come on, you know how this makes me feel”, Yoongi complains and tries to push at Taehyung’s chest. 

“But I love you, hyung. Do you not love me?” 

“Course I do. Just”, Yoongi wiggles, “let go of me.”

Taehyung releases him from his hug. Yoongi fixes his coat and meets his eyes.

“Yah, come here you rascal”, he says and attacks Taehyung with a gentle head lock.

“Hey. Ah! Release me”, Taehyung squeaks in laughter, fighting him gently. 

Taehyung can’t remember if he ever play fought with Yoongi. He is quite sure that he didn’t. He watched Jungkook and Seokjin play fight each other on many occasions. He also knows that when Jimin feels playful he likes to pretend to practice boxing on his arm. And Jungkook regularly has his moments where he playfully slaps people’s butts. But he never had a playfight with Yoongi. This is new and it’s making him squeak in laughter while Yoongi laughs just a squeakily. 

The play fight ends with Taehyung attacking Yoongi with a hug and the Creator whining loudly. 

“I won”, Taehyung says, releasing him.

“I let you win”, Yoongi says and drops onto the ground. He stretches out his legs, resting back against a tree, “I’m stronger than you.”

“Yes you are”, Taehyung says and sits down next to Yoongi, “does this mean that I have another wish free?”

Yoongi chuckles, “I never agreed on that.”

“I think I have another wish free.”

“You’re a brat”, Yoongi says fondly.

“Mhm indeed”, Taehyung relaxes with a smile, “I shall voice my wish later.”

“Fine. If you want to.”

The two vampires can look out at the endless grounds this way. The meadows, the forests, the lakes and the various flower gardens. They see the estate in the distance and the hills even further away. 

“You seem carefree today”, Taehyung says.

“I feel carefree. I don’t gotta worry about life fucking me up again.”

“Yes, I agree it is rather healing to think that we live in peace these days.”

“I still don’t think it’s real. Sometimes I wonder if I’m still stuck in Namjoon’s curse and all the good things happening lately are just my brain making up stuff to escape the pain.”

Taehyung reaches over and pinches Yoongi’s upper inner arm.

“Ah”, he flinches away, touching the spot instantly, “what the fuck? That hurt. Why did you do that?”

“Now you know that this is real.”

“I just said that sometimes I wonder, not that I actually think it isn’t real.”

“No, I understood you, but we had to make sure.”

Yoongi snorts in amusement, clicking his tongue.

“Brat.”

Taehyung chuckles, relaxing happily. He follows a breeze of wind as it dances through the grasses and trees. 

“I think about these possibilities as well”, he confesses after some time of tranquility passed.

“You do?”

He nods his head, “I do. I sometimes wonder if my current perfect life is just another cruel mind trick of Namjoon. There were many occasions where he made me see wonderful things only to pull me back to torture again when the fantasy felt the most healing. The pain he inflicted afterwards always felt especially unbearable”, he says and touches his own hands as if to wipe the memory from his nerves, “I am scared that sometimes all of this isn’t real and that one day, I will have to return to being tortured again.”

Yoongi reaches out for his hand and closes his fingers around it. The shakes, which had started to gradually overtake Taehyung’s hands, stop. Taehyung looks at their hands then into Yoongi’s reassuring eyes 

“It’s real. You know?” Yoongi says softly.

Taehyung takes a shaky breath. He nods his head. 

“I know”, he whispers and allows a small smile to brighten his features.

Yoongi retorts it and looks back at the endless meadows. He slips his hand from Taehyung’s to play with his own thumbs instead. Taehyung traces his own knuckles. Moments before, Yoongi’s thumb grazed them mindlessly. Taehyung still feels the touch. He blinks the emotion from his eyes and looks at the swaying grasses. Their horses are close by, getting their afternoon snacking in. Taehyung’s horse was brown in colour and was dressed in dark blue gear, while Yoongi’s horse had fur blacker than the darkest night and wore black leather gear. It fit the two vampires. 

“I like that you open up to me these days”, Yoongi says into the silence.

Taehyung shifts his eyes from their horses to study Yoongi’s side profile instead. His older friend’s lips were perfectly pouted and his nose perfectly sloped, so that he had a doll-like elegancy to him. Taehyung thought him beautiful as artists thought nature beautiful and photographer light. 

“I only feel comfortable doing so because you made it safe to talk to you”, Taehyung answers him, “yes, I am aware that I wasn’t a safe space for you either, but I am grateful that you decided to become one for me and Jimin. I hope we can be safe spaces for you as well.”

“Mhm, yeah”, Yoongi doesn’t say more, but Taehyung didn’t need more. Just from those two words, he knew that Yoongi was honest. He smiles.

“Look at us, hyung”, he says, nudging Yoongi’s upper arm softly.

“Mhm, look at us.”

“I really like you, hyung. You know?” 

“I know, Tae. Me too”, Yoongi says as his eyes still follow the wind in the meadows. A sense of serenity surrounded him. The kind of serenity which hasn’t followed him for long yet, but Taehyung knew it will only grow from now on. He felt tranquil as well.

“We are truly at peace, aren’t we?” he says as he stretches out his legs. 

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t wanna jinx it.” 

“You won’t. The world is at peace and life is good”, Taehyung nudges Yoongi’s arm again, “you truly kept your promise to her. You made the world a safer place.” 

Yoongi smiles, “yeah, I guess I did.”

The two vampires will sit under the trees until the wind carried the first smell of evening with it. It will be a time well spent with conversation which naturally morphed into them working on music together.

[vminhoes]

My taegi fics:

And they were roommates!

Yoongi is a tired businessman stressing over his subordinates and Taehyung is a tired college student stressing over Yoongi’s ass. Specifically, how bad he wants it.

(Explicit ✧ roommates au ✧ student taehyung, businessman yoongi ✧ roommates with benefits ✧ smut, fluff, angst)

🌹🌹🌹

Spoils of War

After the Kim pack nearly wipes out the human kingdom, Prince Yoongi is captured and brought back to Prince Taehyung as a gift.

Taehyung just wants to be left alone, and Yoongi just wants to go home. Of course they hate each other, but Taehyung will not hesitate rip anyone who touches Yoongi to shreds

(Explicit ✧ royal/hybrid au ✧ human yoongi ✧ hybrid/alpha taehyung ✧ enemies to lovers ✧ smut, fluff, angst)

🌹🌹🌹

You scratch my back, I'll blow out yours

Yoongi is the newest up and coming musician hot on the scene. At just 23, he’s an ingenious producer, phenomenal rapper, captivating performer, and overall he’s one badass motherfucker who doesn’t take shit from anyone.

That being said, he may or may not need to sleep with his record label’s son Taehyung, who’s been pining after Yoongi for months, if he wants a chance at making it big.

(Explicit ✧ coffee shop au ✧ frat boy/barista taehyung, rapper yoongi ✧ blackmail ✧ smut, fluff, angst)

🌹🌹🌹

Flower boy

Yoongi had seen far too much and done even worse to be affected by anything else life had to offer. That is, until the handsome owner of the flower shop down the street gives him a few daisies and a new outlook on life.

(Explicit ✧ mafia au ✧ drug lord yoongi, florist taehyung ✧ mutual pining ✧ smut, fluff, angst)

🌹🌹🌹

Why don't you say "I love you" back?

A little drabble based off of Yoongi’s vlive where Taehyung says “I love you” and refuses to leave until Yoongi says it back

(rated: G ✧ canon compliant ✧ yoongi's vlive - "i won't leave until you say that word" ✧ fluff

🌹🌹🌹

So cute

Yoongi just wants to bang but Taehyung can’t be serious for two fucking minutes

(Explicit ✧ college au ✧ boyfriends!taegi ✧ smut, fluff)

[poutyniall]

crying, sobbing, screaming

[gimmethatagustd]

the flower knight (1) | kth + myg

A disciple of the Mugunghwa Temple, Yoongi has lived a pious life free of the vices of the outside world. That is until the temple must become a safehouse for wounded soldiers when war breaks out, and Yoongi catches the eye of a certain military commander.

○ Pairing: Soldier!Taehyung x Healer!Yoongi

○ Rating: Explicit/18+

○ Genre: Historical fantasy, magic, pistilverse, strangers to lovers, forbidden love, angst, eventual smut, eventual fluff

○ Word Count: 3,143

○ Warnings: A minor character experiences public humiliation and slut shaming due to religious beliefs (of a fake religion I made up). Additionally, Yoongi is forced to have his body examined for flower markings. This isn't sexual or violent, and Yoongi isn't upset about it, but it still gives me the ick lmfao so I figured I should put a warning just in case.

○ Notes: I added a glossary at the end of the fic for those of you who aren’t familiar with the Pistilverse AU. If you subscribe to me on AO3, this will probably look familiar to you~

○ Post Date: January 2, 2024

○ Masterlist | Send me ur thots

○ What was Jai listening to? The series playlist

Bad things always come in threes.

Yoongi isn’t sure if he believes in destiny, but he does believe in this rule of thirds. He doesn’t remember where he learned the saying; perhaps he learned it from one of the other temple pistils, the older ones who like to tease the younger ones who are gullible and impressionable. Yoongi doesn’t think he was ever one of those young students, but he believes in the saying, doesn’t he?

Life has allotted Yoongi very few tragedies, for which he is grateful. Despite being an orphan, abandoned at the Mugunghwa temple as an infant to be cared for by the monks, he enjoyed a fulfilling childhood. The monks loved Yoongi with unconditional kindness that can only come from someone touched by the grace of the gods. The other orphaned children, those who had yet to have their awakening, played in harmony and were raised to be future disciples – that is, until their subgenders were awakened.

The monks raise the orphans within the confines of the temple grounds, but Yoongi never yearned for what lies beyond the colorful stone walls separating the temple buildings from the outside world. Yoongi had heard enough about the evil of the secular world, where the villages at the bottom of the mountain succumb to greed, violence, and lust and where suffering runs rampant through the townspeople. To Yoongi, it seems that the gods have forsaken such places. He is more interested in maintaining his quiet temple life.

So one might wonder, how does Min Yoongi, a young temple disciple with no knowledge of the world, know that bad things always come in threes if he has yet to experience bad things?

Twenty-one years of peace is far too long of a streak to maintain. At some point, luck runs out. Although Yoongi is a devout disciple of the gods, he can’t help but wonder if sometimes even the gods do not have control over fate.

The morning of the First Bad Thing starts as every morning does: Yoongi wakes with the sun. 

Light streams through the thin curtains drawn across his open windows, illuminating his quaint room with hues of orange and yellow. A breeze gently stirs the curtains, causing them to flutter with each new gust of wind. 

Children’s laughter filters in from outside. Yoongi smiles when he hears one of the older pistils, Namjoon, scold the children for being loud so early in the morning. No one cares if the children make noise, and Namjoon knows that. That’s why his threats of putting the children to work are empty and half-hearted. 

With a longing for simpler times pulling at his heartstrings, Yoongi forces himself out of bed. There is no time to miss the past when the present urges him to get started. 

After washing his face in the washbasin in the small bath adjoining his bedroom, he slips into his white linen hanbok, the simple one that doesn’t weigh heavily on his shoulders. The weather has been unusually warm for the spring, and Yoongi isn’t interested in sweating through his clothes while he does his daily chores. Sometimes, he wishes he could wear less restrictive clothes, like the simple linen shirt and shorts he wears to sleep. Unfortunately, the monks have taught the student disciples that such clothing isn’t becoming of pistils. Less cloth means more exposed skin, and with exposed skin comes the risk of showing off one’s awakening mark. 

Yoongi watches himself in the small mirror he keeps on top of his dresser, propped against the wall. In the oval glass, he twists to take a peek over his shoulder by turning his head to the side. He can barely see the tips of the barren tree branches that decorate his spine. As a sign that he was maturing from a teen into a young man, the mark of a barren tree sprouted from the base of his spine one morning. It crept up his back, its dark lines eventually breaking off into branches that spread between his shoulder blades. 

When Yoongi fastens his hanbok, the black branches are hidden away, just as he was taught. 

Having experienced the extremely uncomfortable awakening nearly ten years ago, Yoongi has reached the point where he rarely looks at his awakening mark. It is a reminder of his status in society, a lowly pistil whose primary purpose in life is to tend to the stamen who desire him. 

While some orphaned teens he grew up with were disappointed to awaken as pistils, Yoongi was relieved. Becoming a pistil meant he could stay in the temple as a disciple of god. If he had awakened as a stamen by developing the mark of a flower somewhere on his body rather than branches or vines, the monks would have sent him away to the military – where the monks send all stamen orphans once they’ve reached their awakening. Stamen are naturally stronger and more equipped to handle the violence of war than pistils are. 

Yoongi is sure the gods did not make him for military life. He feels sorrow merely from stepping on an ant; he could never handle war. 

It is a blessing from the gods that Yoongi was left on the temple grounds by his parents. As a temple pistil, he is privileged to live within a community of only pistils, never once having met a stamen aside from his orphan friends once their status was awakened. And even then, those friends were always gone by the following day, whisked away at night to fulfill their duties as peacekeepers. 

Warriors. 

Shaking his head to rid himself of thoughts of war, Yoongi leaves his bedroom and follows the hall toward the front doors of the students’ quarters. All students reside in one dormitory on the west side of the temple grounds, just south of the Mugunghwa garden. Yoongi loves the dormitory. He likes the intricate designs that decorate the walls and the proximity to the garden. But most of all, he likes living with his friends. 

Yoongi carries a small wicker basket filled with gardening tools in his arms. He is halfway along the meandering stepping stone path toward the Mugunghwa garden when he sees Namjoon rushing toward him. 

“Yoongi hyung!” 

Namjoon’s sandals slap against the ground, spraying dirt and gravel into the air as he hurries to reach a confused Yoongi. It’s odd; Namjoon is known for his quiet, studious personality. As one of the most promising students, Namjoon carries himself with poise and a gentle confidence Yoongi has admired ever since the two became friends after their awakenings. Yoongi has never seen Namjoon so animated. 

“Be careful,” Yoongi warns, motioning toward the mulched flower beds lining the stepping stone path. A small lizard scurries from a patch of ferns across the stones. 

Namjoon quickly sidesteps to avoid running too close to the pathway's edge. 

Patches of colorful flowers have already poked out of the ground. These are primarily common flowers: roses, marigolds, and peonies – all with little value aside from being pretty and smelling good. It isn’t until one gets deep into the garden, where the well of golden water is, that the magic can be felt flowing through the plants’ roots. 

“H-hyung, oh shit,” Namjoon trips forward and grabs Yoongi’s forearm to steady himself. 

Yoongi clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. What has gotten into his friend? 

“Don’t make me tell Myeong noona that you’re using such language, Joon-ah.” He speaks through a teasing smile that slowly dissolves into a frown when Namjoon doesn’t smile back. “What’s wrong?” 

“It’s Junseo,” Namjoon huffs through loud inhales as he tries to recover from the jog up the steep path. 

The altitude in the mountains can easily affect one’s head. It’s one of the many reasons Yoongi avoids exercising unless he has to. He’s mostly a bit lazy, but he supposes that even the temple disciples can afford some vices. Laziness is the closest to rebelling he’ll ever get. 

“What trouble has he gotten himself into now, hmm? Got bitten by one of the temple cats again?” Yoongi muses. With Junseo, anything is possible. Yoongi swears no one in the entire temple has needed to be rescued from silly mishaps as often as Junseo. 

“No, hyung,” Namjoon rushes to speak. His cheeks are pink, and sweat glistens on his top lip. “Junseo got marked .” 

The wicker basket of gardening tools barely misses smashing a bed of marigolds when the handle slips from Yoongi’s loose grasp. 

Leaving the basket where it falls, Yoongi grabs Namjoon by the wrist. His expression is stony as he asks, “How do you know?” 

“I heard Arem speaking with Misuk-ssi,” Namjoon whispers harshly. He’s breathing heavily as he practically drags Yoongi down the stone pathway toward the dormitory. “She asked her to find Junseo.” 

There is nothing more that Namjoon needs to say; everyone knows what it means to be called upon by one of the temple leaders.

The two men are silent as they weave through the stone paths connecting the temple buildings in a winding journey meant to mimic the peacefulness of strolling through the woods. Yoongi has yet to explore the woods, but he supposes he understands the meaning behind the landscaping. 

Their journey today is anything but peaceful. 

At first, Yoongi is afraid that their frantic hurrying toward the grand temple courtyard will cause suspicion – and he’s sure he and Namjoon aren’t supposed to know about Junseo. But it becomes clear that it isn’t just Yoongi and Namjoon who are privy to the scandal. Despite the early hour, the entire student body is trying to meander toward the courtyard. 

If gossip doesn’t bring the students out into the open, Junseo’s cries do. 

Yoongi doesn’t hear the wailing until he and Namjoon near the grand temple, where prayers and other religious ceremonies are held. The grand temple is also where the temple leaders reside, though Yoongi has never been in the wing with their living quarters. Trespassing is forbidden, but Yoongi is not interested in their living quarters. He has never admitted it out loud, but some of the leaders scare him. 

Misuk and Insu are the most intimidating of all the temple leaders and monks combined, so naturally, they are the leaders whose feet Junseo grovels at as he weeps. The young man’s face is wet with tears and lined with red marks on his cheeks as though he has been clawing at his face. Seeing him with clothes and other small trinkets scattered around his body, his white hanbok soiled by dirt, makes Yoongi’s blood run cold. 

“Pick yourself up, Junseo,” Misuk commands. The refreshing breeze has died down, making Misuk's words cut through the spring air and echo between buildings. 

“Please don’t make me leave, seonsaengnim!” Junseo presses his forehead to the stone path at the base of the temple stairs. “I am nothing without Mugunghwa!”

Misuk and Insu stand a few steps above him and watch him with eyes as dark as the center of the well of gold water in the garden. Yoongi has never seen such icy glares. Until now, nothing has disrupted the peacefulness of the temple. Sure, they all have occasional quarrels; it’s hard not to bicker when living in such a tight-knit community. Scandal, though, is unheard of. And this certainly is a scandal. 

“You have defiled your body, Kang Junseo,” Insu finally speaks, his voice as tight as the grimace on his face. “You are no longer welcome on sacred grounds.” 

When Junseo rises to his knees, the group of onlookers gasp. Even Namjoon inhales sharply, the sound quiet but loud enough for Yoongi to hear from where he stands beside him. 

Yoongi is silent as he watches Junseo hurry to pull his clothes tighter to his body, but the damage has been done. A large rip in the back of his hanbok runs from just below the collar down to the base of his spine. When he twists his torso, slivers of skin peek out from the rips – skin decorated with the prettiest marks Yoongi has ever seen. 

Dozens of flowers line the branches on Junseo’s back. Yoongi can’t make out the types of flowers from where he stands, the markings too small for him to see any details, but he’s close enough to be both amazed and horrified by the variation of colors on the young man’s skin. 

Junseo has many flowers on his back, which only means one thing: Junseo is no longer a virgin. From the looks of it, he lost his virginity a long time ago, or he has taken on many lovers in a short period— many lovers. 

Whispers erupt around them, but Yoongi can only hear his blood rushing in his ears. It isn’t until he feels lightheaded that he realizes he’s been holding his breath. He’s never seen the mark of a stamen on a pistil’s body before. Disciples are forbidden from having romantic relationships or engaging in sexual activity. One must be pure for the gods, dedicating their time to worship and the betterment of their community rather than to bodily pleasure. 

Not to mention the fate of pistils who are outed for having a stamen mark – let alone multiple – out of wedlock. 

“What will happen to him?” Yoongi asks Namjoon, never once taking his eyes off Junseo as he gathers his belongings into his arms. 

Namjoon shrugs, his eyes, too, still on Junseo. “I don’t know, work at a brothel, most likely. No one will want to marry him, and no self-respecting business owner will hire him.” 

Pressing his fingers to his lips, Yoongi tries to suppress a gasp without looking too obvious that he’s shocked by Namjoon’s prediction. “A brothel?” Yoongi knows what one is, but he cannot begin to imagine what it would be like to live and work in one. 

“Mhm,” Namjoon hums. “It’s awful. Many brothel pistils run out of room on their branches, so they go through a second awakening. Or a third and fourth. I’ve heard rumors of some brothel pistils completely covered in flowers.” 

One awakening was painful enough for Yoongi. To go through multiple… he doesn’t even want to consider it.

In front of him, Junseo stands with his belongings clutched to his chest. He has stopped crying and now stares ahead with a blank expression as though he doesn’t see anything at all. The look makes bile bubble up Yoongi’s throat. Silently, Junseo turns his back on the temple leaders and walks with squared shoulders across the courtyard toward the entrance of the temple grounds. 

The students dissipate in waves as Junseo walks through the grounds. There is nothing else to see here; no more drama to ogle. Even Misuk and Insu leave, taking slow, purposeful steps to their wing of the grand temple. In a matter of minutes, the courtyard is empty, aside from Yoongi, Namjoon, and a handful of other students who have returned to talking amongst themselves or studying. Junseo is merely a speck in the distance, moving like an ant until he turns a corner and Yoongi can no longer see him. 

Just like that, Junseo is gone, and the temple returns to how it was as if there had never been a Junseo at all. 

The only change to temple life after Junseo’s dramatic departure is the immediate implementation of what the monks call a “purity sweep.” They insist to the students that this is a one-time occurrence, merely the opportunity for temple leaders to ensure that no one else has fallen prey to worldly temptations. If the rest of the students are well-behaved, purity sweeps won’t be needed. 

Although Yoongi is a virgin, he trembles with nerves when he stands outside the infirmary a week later with Namjoon at his side. 

“It’ll be alright,” Namjoon reassures Yoongi, gently squeezing the nape of his neck. “It’ll be over before you know it. I can even go first if you’d like.” Namjoon is too kind for his own good. 

Yoongi shakes his head even though having Namjoon go first would be a source of comfort for him. His nerves are irrational. If he was a good student, he’d know how to meditate the fear away like Namjoon had.  “No, no, I will be fine.”

Bracing himself for the unknown, Yoongi enters the infirmary. There is a monk there to guide him to the correct examination room. Their sandals click against the stone flooring and echo through the hall. Yoongi doesn’t need the monk to show him where to go, but he doesn’t say anything. Due to his affinity for plants, Yoongi has trained to become a temple healer. Thus, he knows his way around the infirmary due to his regular training hours.

Although magic does not run through the veins of pistils, the Mugunghwa carry magic in their petals from the gold water in the enchanted well at the center of the Mugunghwa garden. Monks like Yoongi, who is patient and kind, know how to nurture the magic within those plants, using their petals to create healing potions that the monks send throughout the kingdom. 

Reaching the correct room, the monk allows Yoongi to enter first. He gives Yoongi a gentle smile and gestures to a wooden table against the wall. 

“You may remove your hanbok and place it there,” the monk instructs. He’s an unfamiliar face to Yoongi, which isn’t surprising. The Mugunghwa temple is one of the largest in the Mountain region; it’s impossible to know everyone. 

Silently, Yoongi follows the monk’s instructions. He shivers once he is standing in nothing but his underwear despite the room being almost uncomfortably warm. Unsure of what to do with himself, Yoongi stands stiffly with his arms at his sides. The stance seems good enough, for the monk doesn’t say anything as he walks a tight circle around Yoongi’s rigid body, looking for any splotches of color along the branches covering Yoongi’s back. 

Sweat beads at Yoongi’s hairline, making his blonde bangs stick to his skin. What if the monk finds a blemish on Yoongi’s skin and thinks it’s a stamen’s flower? Will they immediately toss him out like Junseo? Would Yoongi have the chance to explain himself? 

Questions swarm his mind, churning around until his brain is clouded with nonsense. He’s so stressed that he nearly misses the light touch on his shoulder. 

“Yoongi?” The monk calls out softly, making Yoongi blink rapidly. 

“Yes, seonsaengnim?” 

“You may get dressed. The examination is over.” 

With a sigh of relief, Yoongi scrambles to put his clothes on. As he hurries out of the infirmary to wait for Namjoon in the courtyard, he sends a silent prayer to the gods that the other students remain pure like they’re supposed to. Yoongi doesn’t want to go through another purity sweep ever again.

Series Masterlist

GLOSSARY OF TERMS

(Borrowed from here and revised to fit my fic)

Pistilverse AU - A South Korean fanfic trope wherein almost all humans experience an "awakening" during puberty that assigns them into one of two botanically-inspired groups: Pistils and Stamens. These groups are denoted by marks on the person's body, similar to tattoos.

Pistil and Stamens - Pistils develop a mark of a barren tree that appears along their spine after their awakening, while stamens develop a flower somewhere on their body after their awakening.

Awakening - The moment a flower or tree appears on a person’s body, signifying their status as a pistil or stamen. You could look at it as a coming-of-age moment in a person’s life. These are typically painful for pistils. A pistil might experience more than one awakening if their tree becomes too full of flowers.

Marks/Marking - When a pistil sleeps with a stamen, the stamen’s flower blooms on the pistil’s tree branches. The number of flowers a pistil has is proportional to that of the stamens they had sex with. In this fic, pistils with many flowers are considered promiscuous and experience slut shaming based on religion.

Marked - The term used to describe a pistil who has received a stamen’s flower on their body.

Mugunghwa - The national flower of South Korea.

Gukseon - A Chief officer of a Hwarang group. The Hwarang were an elite warrior group in Silla, an ancient kingdom of the Korean Peninsula until the 10th century.

Seonsaengnim - A respectful honorific for a teacher.

Disclaimer: All my writing is fictional and for entertainment purposes only. None of these characters are meant to actually represent the real people mentioned in the stories. 

All rights reserved © @gimmethatagustd​ - Do not copy, repost, modify, or translate any of my writing. Do not use my writing for any AI purposes whatsoever. Do not use my fics for anything aside from reading and commenting on them. My fics will only be posted on this Tumblr and on AO3 (gimmethatagustd & daddytaehyungie). Request an AO3 account here.

[downbad4yoongi]

Merry and Mended

🎄Merry and Mended

🎄Alpha!Yoongi x Omega!Taehyung

🎄AU/Genre: holiday fluff, strangers to lovers, a/b/o

🎄Warnings: smut

🎄Rating: MA

🎄Word count: 8536

Wrote this as a birthday gift to myself, and as a part of @bangtanwritershq Holiday Wish List December Event.

I love a good Taegi 🥰 Enjoy your holidays.

(Thank you to my beta readers, @moonleeai & @colormepurplex2. Thank you, @cherrysoulth, for my beautiful banner.)

Yoongi’s head jerks up as the store is filled with a cacophony of tin cans crashing to the floor. He straightens from where he was slouching on a stool behind the counter, sets down his book, and moves toward the front of the store to discover the cause of the commotion. He shuffles toward the front, his nose wrinkling as he picks up on the lightly burnt scent of a distressed omega. It doesn’t take long to figure out what the crashing sound was when his foot connects with a Sterno can that strayed a bit too far from the rest.

With a furrowed brow, the alpha rounds the aisle and sees a man desperately scrambling to pick up the fallen merchandise. He crosses his arms and tilts his head to the side; he is sure he has never seen this man in town before. They don’t get many strangers out this way.

Yoongi clears his throat to capture the stranger’s attention. The man’s head snaps up, his fluffy dark brown curls falling into widened eyes. Anything Yoongi was going to say stalls in his mind, leaving him there to stare at one of the most gorgeous people he has ever seen.

The man stands up, arms full of tin cans, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to. I was just trying to look at–” he looks over his shoulder, motioning back behind him, causing a few of the cans he gathered to slip out of his arms. He winces, an embarrassed blush spreading across smooth, golden skin.

The omega’s movements cause the air around him to stir, the currents carrying his scent to Yoongi. His senses pick up on the subtle chamomile, albeit tinged from his worry, smell surrounding the omega. Yoongi blinks at him silently, a bit disoriented by the memories that scent brings up for him. This complete stranger reminds him of when his mother would brew him a cup of tea whenever he wasn’t feeling his best to soothe him. He snaps out of it only when the man’s expression goes from contrite to worried. 

“Um, it’s okay. Honestly, it was a bit too quiet this week. Needed something to liven things up.” Inhaling deeply, soaking up more of the comforting scent emanating from the man, Yoongi stoops to gather the Sterno tins into a central location before reassembling the display. His hands move carefully while trying to concentrate on controlling his own scent, not wanting it to flare and give away the confusing emotions swirling within.

The omega stoops down with him and places the tins he was holding on the pile that Yoongi began accumulating. A deep chuckle rumbles out of the stranger as he shoots Yoongi a boxy smile, “Well then, I am happy I could be of service.”

A light blush perfuses across the apples of Yoongi’s pale cheeks, his fingers tightening on the can in his hand, his own cedar scent saturating the air to mix with the gentle one surrounding the other man. Fuck, even his smile is beautiful. Yoongi tears his eyes away, quickly sweeping up the last few errant cans and stands. The man stands with him, his camel duster falling to its full length, leaving only the bottom half of a pair of black slacks and shiny loafers in view.

“So I haven’t seen you around here before. Are you just stopping through?”

The man cocks an eyebrow and sarcastically quips, “Oh, do you know everyone who lives around here?”

“Yeah, I do,” Yoongi retorts, a deadpan expression on his face.

He scoffs, “Really?”

“Really. Welcome to my general store. This store has been in my family's hands for eighty years, and we’ve lived in this town that entire time. I’m Yoongi, Min Yoongi.”

The man blinks sheepishly, “I seem to be on a roll with making things awkward…” He scrunches his face up before shaking his arms and thrusting his hand toward Yoongi. “I’m Kim Taehyung, and yes, I am very new in town.”

Yoongi slides his hand into Taehyung’s grip and shakes the proffered hand. Both of their scents spiking at the contact. “Welcome to town. What were you needing from here before you destroyed my display?”

“Yah! I apologized for that, and you accepted the apology,” Taehyung huffs.

“I’m prone to changing my mind.” Yoongi sweeps the edges of his red plaid flannel back and shoves his hands into his black jeans. “Can I help you find something in particular?”

Taehyung purses his lips, studying Yoongi for a beat before spinning to motion at the aisle behind him. “I was trying to choose a space heater. The heat in my place doesn’t seem to work.”

Yoongi maneuvers around Taehyung and eyes the selection on the shelf. He slaps his hand on the top of one of the boxes, “This one would be best for heating mid to large areas.” Yoongi’s eyes flick away, his teeth pulling at the dry skin of his lip. “Or I could come and fix your heat for you…”

Taehyung feels his brows disappear into his hairline and can’t help the sassy comment that flows from his lips, “Are you the town’s handyman, too?”

Yoongi’s lips twist into a wry smile. “No. I just thought, um, that I could maybe help.” 

“That’s really kind of you. When would you be able to come by?” Taehyung questions.

“Tomorrow?” Yoongi suggests, “The store is closed on Sundays, so that would be best for me.”

Taehyung’s head bobs, “Honestly, the sooner the better. While I love a good popsicle, I personally don’t enjoy being turned into one.”

The truck eases to a stop in front of the quaint red house at the end of the street. Yoongi squints out of the window at the structure. He recognizes the house as belonging to the Kims, an adorable elderly couple who mostly kept to themselves, as he shuts off the engine, still contemplating why he offered to help this stranger. 

He is not a morning person, and he is known for not being the friendliest toward strangers. It really doesn’t make sense that he is here and outside before noon. He picks up his iced coffee in one hand and pushes the door open with the other before sliding out of the cab of the truck. He scowls as the cold air envelopes him and seeps through the layers of his puffy winter jacket and hoodie. He reaches into the bed, hefting his toolbox over the side, and starts lugging it up toward the front door, his scowl deepening with each freezing step.

Huddling in on himself, he waits for Taehyung to answer his knocks on the door, internally cursing himself for this dumb idea; so what if this man reminds him of home. After what feels like an ice age, the white door opens to reveal a drowsy-looking Taehyung in an oversized green hoodie, black lounge pants, and sherpa-lined slippers. 

The scowl on Yoongi’s face evaporates as he takes in Taehyung’s messy bed hair and puffy sleep face. The earthy notes of chamomile hang heavy in the air. Oh, this is why he is out here freezing his nuts off. “Hi.”

Taehyung squints and just looks at him for a beat before clearing the sleep from his throat. “Good morning. Sorry, I forgot you were going to come by today, or at least I didn’t think it would be this early.” Taehyung’s deep timbre washes over Yoongi, pulling him into his aura even more.

“Oh well. I was up, so here I am,” Yoongi responds flatly.

Taehyung backs up, opening the door wider, “Come on in.” He swiftly closes the door once Yoongi has cleared the entrance, shutting out the winter weather. As soon as he steps inside, the soothing herbal aroma envelopes him like a warm embrace.

“I would say it’s good to be out of the cold, but it really isn’t much warmer in here. Your heat truly is broken.”

“And yet, you are drinking an iced coffee,” Taehyung motions at the clear plastic cup held in Yoongi’s fingerless gloved hand.

Yoongi looks from his coffee to Taehyung, “Your point?”

Taehyung opens his mouth but quickly shuts it again, shaking his head. “Um, let me show you where things are.” Taehyung spins on his heel and leads Yoongi through the house and to the hall thermostat. “You have to start here, no?”

Yoongi nods in affirmation, “Yeah, this is the first step.” Yoongi sets his coffee down and slips out of his winter jacket before peering at the wall thermostat and fiddling with different settings. When that doesn’t yield a result, he asks Taehyung where his breaker box is and is guided to a storage closet deeper inside the house. Opening the metal door, he examines the breaker switches and confirms none are tripped, and everything should operate normally.

“Where’s your furnace?” Yoongi asks as he shuts and latches the breaker box door.

Taehyung jerks his head behind him, motioning further toward the back of the house. “Closet near the back of the house.”

Yoongi follows Taehyung to the next location and pulls open the closet door. He takes in the small space before squatting down in front of the furnace in the corner.

Taehyung leans against the open door and watches as Yoongi stoops down to look at the unit. He locates the power switch and confirms it is in the ‘on’ position. Yoongi’s mouth thins into a firm line as he runs his fingers along the seam of the furnace door. He leans closer to the furnace door, eyes narrowing, sliding his hand to the handle, jiggling it a tad. That confirms his suspicion; he opens the door and then firmly shuts it again.

“What was that for?” Taehyung pipes up over his shoulder, clearly confused. Before Yoongi can respond, a loud shuddering sound is heard through the house, followed by a low hissing.

Yoongi glances over his shoulder at Taehyung, “That was to turn your heat back on.” Yoongi straightens back up, brushing his hands off on his ripped jeans. “The door to your furnace wasn’t shut all the way, and the failsafe was triggered. When the failsafe is on, the furnace won’t function as a precaution.”

Understanding dawns on Taehyung’s face as he processes what Yoongi is saying. “Oh! I guess I could have searched that on Naver for myself,” he says sheepishly.

Yoongi shrugs and takes a sip from his straw. “Probably.” He watches Taehyung chew on his lower lip. “But I’m glad I could help.”

Taehyung peers at Yoongi through the fringe of his hair, gauging how sincere his words are before letting a small smile spread across his lips. “Can I repay you with breakfast?”

“You cook?”

Silence remains for a beat. “Um. Not very well?”

Yoongi’s lips lift in a smirk on one side, and he throws out a lifeline. “Lucy’s in town makes a wonderful breakfast. We could just go there?”

Relief sweeps through Taehyung’s eyes, “My treat.” He starts backing down the hallway toward one of the open bedroom doors. “Give me a few minutes, and I’ll be right out.”

The bell chimes loudly as the diner door swings open, and the two of them rush in out of the cold. As they stomp the snow from their shoes, Taehyung looks around the interior. “Oh!”

The town’s diner has quintessential 50s-themed decor and makes its best impression of a Lucille Ball shrine. Yoongi smirks, “Ahjumma is a fan.” Yoongi veers off to the right and slides into the third raised booth, settling into the vinyl seat.

Taehyung follows, “That is putting it mildly.” His eyes still bouncing around the restaurant as Yoongi sets the menu in front of him. Eventually, Taehyung pulls his gaze back to Yoongi, who has been sitting there watching him with an amused expression, “What?”

Yoongi shakes his head slightly, “I just haven’t had many opportunities to experience the places I’ve known my entire life through someone new.”

“So this has always been decorated like this?”

“Mhmm, though briefly, very briefly, she contemplated redecorating when she discovered Magnum P.I. Tom Selleck didn’t try hard enough to flip her in the end.”

Taehyung covers his mouth with his large palm, muffling his giggle as he listens to Yoongi’s story. The overhead light haloing his dark curls just right, Yoongi can’t help but stare and trace the way the harsh diner lights perfectly highlight the angles of Taehyung’s face.

“Yoongi-yah! Where have you been? You haven’t been visiting as often as you should be.”

Yoongi is snapped out of his reverie at the admonishment and looks as a petite beta in her early sixties sidles up to their table.

Taehyung’s eyes bounce back and forth between Yoongi and the newcomer. Yoongi’s lips screw to the side at the gentle scolding as he rubs at the back of his neck. “Aish, ajumma, I have been busy with the store.”

With a smack of her pad to his shoulder, “Nonsense! That store runs itself at this point. You can’t avoid him forever, you know?”

Taehyung’s brows lift slightly at that, wondering who they are talking about. Yoongi ducks his head, “I’m not avoiding him.”

“Could have fooled me.” She frowns at him for a moment more before turning to Taehyung with a bright smile, “Hello there! You’re new. I know everyone in this town; who are you?”

Taehyung blinks up at her a few times, “I’m Kim Taehyung, and this is my first time visiting your lovely establishment.”

“Of course it is. I would remember such a handsome face as yours. I’m Mrs. Kim.” Her brows furrow as she looks at Taehyung harder, “Any relation to the Kims out on Whale Drive?”

Taehyung nods, “They’re my grandparents. I’m taking care of their house as they transition to an assisted living facility.”

“No!”

“Yes, unfortunately, the house's upkeep just got a bit too much for them. I’m the only relative left, so here I am.” Yoongi listens to the exchange silently, processing this new information.

Mrs. Kim tsks under her breath. “You are a good grandson.” She pats his shoulder, “You keep me updated, okay?” Taehyung nods silently. “Good. Now, what can I get you?”

“Oh!” Taehyung’s eyes drop to the plastic menu before him and quickly scans it. He jabs his finger against the menu, “Dakjuk, please.” Mrs. Kim nods and swipes the menu from in front of him, quickly turning and leaving them again, the subtle hint of an apple orchard left behind by the beta.

“I di–”

“She–”

They both halt, looking at each other before Yoongi motions for Taehyung to go first.

“She didn’t take your order.”

“Mmm, ajumma brings me what she wants to feed me.”

Taehyung’s head tilts to the side, amused by the straightforward response. “What were you going to ask me?”

“Um, I didn’t know you were the Kim's grandson. They didn’t talk much about their family.”

Taehyung gives a wry smile, “Not much to talk about. It’s just me. I worked in Seoul and would visit when I could, which wasn’t often.”

“Wh-” Yoongi clears his throat, “When do you have to go back?”

“I don’t.”

“What do you mean you don’t? Don’t you have a job and a life to return to?”

“I quit. I couldn’t churn away at the machine any longer.”

“Okay, but what about your life in Seoul?”

“What life? I spent most of my time at work. I spent the little time I had outside of work with… someone who used to matter, but that’s in the past now.”

Yoongi blinks at him and can’t help the spark of curiosity flicking to life in his chest. “Why don’t they matter anymore?”

Taehyung gives the saddest smile Yoongi has ever seen, his gentle chamomile scent wilting a little, “I’ll tell mine when you tell yours.”

A plastic straw is shoved under Yoongi’s nose, capturing his attention. He sets down the guitar he is repairing and looks up to find Taehyung offering him an iced coffee with a boxy grin. “Hi, hyung!”

“Taehyung. What are you here for this time?” Yoongi sips through the straw, humming at the rich, bitter taste of coffee washing over his tongue. This has become a routine for them. For the past couple of weeks now, several days out of the week, Taehyung shows up with an iced coffee for Yoongi and the ploy that he just remembered that he needed to buy something he forgot. 

Granted, Yoongi didn’t catch on that it was a ploy until Taehyung came in to purchase a single screwdriver, then the next day he was back to purchase a wrench, then a hammer… Yoongi had suggested he just buy a toolbox, but Taehyung had insisted that he didn’t need one and then proceeded to purchase a set of pliers. So now Yoongi just plays along with this little game just to see how far it will go. 

Taehyung rocks back on his heels, the sweet aroma of chamomile swirling around him, and pulls the hand he was holding behind his back out in front of him, holding a small container of nails. “Just this for today.”

Yoongi blinks slowly at him, “Is your plan to buy every item in my store, one thing at a time? If this is your villain origin story, I gotta tell you it needs work.”

Taehyung grins mischievously, the flush on his cheeks deepening as he meets Yoongi's gaze. "Oh, you caught on to my evil plan already? I guess I'll have to devise a more diabolical scheme," he says playfully, his eyes twinkling with humor. "But for now, let's just stick to one item at a time. Keeps things interesting, don't you think?"

Yoongi tongues the inside of his cheek, amused, “So what are the nails for?”

Taehyung winks at Yoongi before turning his attention back to the container of nails, examining them with feigned seriousness. "These nails? They're special. You see, they're going to be the foundation of my grand master plan to take over the world... or maybe just build a really cool bookshelf. Haven't decided yet." Taehyung chuckles, enjoying the banter, and adds, "But seriously, I just thought it would be nice to have a reason to come back and see you again. Your store has this charm that's hard to resist."

“You caught me! You see, having a charming store is a side effect of my diabolical plan to lure in unsuspecting customers.” Yoongi smirks, leaning casually against the counter and crossing his arms. “If you’re going to keep showing up to buy one item at a time, you might as well come up with a convincing evil laugh. I mean, where’s the drama? The theatrics? You’re missing out on the full villain experience,” he adds with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. 

Taehyung chuckles, "You've got a point. I guess I'll have to work on my evil laugh if I want to be a proper villain." He feigns a sinister chuckle, only to giggle a moment later. "Or maybe I'll stick to being the charming customer who keeps you on your toes." He takes a step closer, his playful expression turning into a more sincere smile. "Speaking of which, if you can handle my one-item-at-a-time takeover plan, how about we break the routine? How about you let me take you out for coffee or dinner sometime? I promise I won't make you sell me your entire inventory in one go." Taehyung winks, hoping the offer comes across as genuine and lighthearted.

Yoongi's eyes widen for a moment, surprised by the sudden turn of events, but then a small smirk plays on his lips. He tilts his head, considering Taehyung's proposition. 

"Well, that's a plot twist I wasn't expecting in my villainous day." Yoongi chuckles, matching Taehyung's playful tone, the alpha’s warm and spicy scent spiking at the other man’s offer. With a thoughtful expression, he nods. "Alright, you've got yourself a deal. But only if you promise to leave your world-domination plans at home for the night. When and where, villain?"

The omega’s lips spread into a boxy grin, “No promises on leaving the world domination plans at home, but I’ll try to keep them on a tight leash. How about dinner at Lucy’s tomorrow at 7 PM? I haven’t tasted ajumma’s dinner menu yet.”

Yoongi smirks, his interest piqued by Taehyung's choice. "Lucy's, huh? Ahjumma does work wonders in the kitchen, so I can't blame you for wanting to try it out. Dinner it is. And as for the world domination plans, I suppose a tight leash will have to do. We wouldn't want to scare the other diners away with our diabolical schemes." He winks playfully at Taehyung. "Alright then, partner in crime. Lucy's it is."

Yoongi chuckles, leaning onto the table, amused at Taehyung’s antics. His nose twitches pleasantly as it picks up the gentle scent of chamomile mixing with his cedar's warm, spicy aroma. He has only known the omega for a few weeks but feels utterly comfortable with the man.

The dinner date at Lucy’s has been going well; there’s laughter, good food, and engaging conversation. Ahjumma immediately started gushing over them when they stepped into the restaurant and realized that they were there on a date. The beta has been doting on them all night and seems to have curated a special menu for them on the fly. 

“So, what’s the verdict on dinner at Lucy’s?” Yoongi asks as he gathers a spoonful of strawberry bingsu from their shared bowl. 

Taehyung hums, swallowing his spoonful, “Honestly, it has not disappointed. Everything has been absolutely delicious. Lucy’s may just be my new favorite spot.”

Yoongi gives the other man a gummy smile, “I’m glad you liked it. Maybe we should start a Lucy’s fan club.” Taehyung claps his hands together, giggling at the idea. 

That laugh may be one of Yoongi’s new favorite sounds. He twirls his spoon in the frozen treat, pondering what else he can say to tease more of it out. 

Taehyung’s eyes light up as ajumma steps out of the kitchen and quickly waves the older beta over. “How would you like your own personal fan club?” 

 “Made up of the two of you? I would be so lucky to have such handsome men devoted to me.” Her raspy chuckle mixes pleasantly with the omega’s huskier one.

“Then it’s decided. We are your devotees, ajumma!” Taehyung states brightly. 

Yoongi’s cheeks ache as he watches the two of them tease each other. “The food was delicious. Thank you so much, ajumma, for making us such special treats,” Yoongi effuses. “I’ll take the check whenever you’re ready.”

She scoffs and brushes him off. “No, no. This is my treat.”

Yoongi shakes his head, protesting, “Yah, you can’t do that.”

She props her hands on her hips, “Yes, I can. If you insist, you can repay me by inviting me to the mating ceremony.”

Yoongi’s cheeks warm at her words, and a similar blush is mirrored on Taehyung’s face. He clears his throat, “Um, well, thank you.”

She pats his shoulder and bids them both goodbye before bustling over to another table.

“I guess we weren’t the only ones to feel a connection then?” Taehyung quips, breaking the tension. 

Yoongi’s eyes meet Taehyung’s warm brown ones, a soft smile playing across his lips, “I guess so. Want to get out of here?”

They slide out of the booth, Yoongi leading them out of the diner. Taehyung sidles up next to him as they step out onto the sidewalk. They linger there, the fresh air tinged with their anticipation of what could happen next. 

There’s a palpable tension in the air, and neither are quite ready to say goodnight. They stand there, smiling at each other, the air charged with unspoken words. The small town has quieted down significantly in the evening hours, and in that moment, it feels like they are in a bubble all their own.

Yoongi clears his throat, “Listen, would you like a ride home?”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t want to put you out,” Taehyung demures. 

“Nonsense. It’s late. Let me give you a lift. I promise I don’t mind.”

Taehyung caves and agrees. They walk down the street, arms brushing each other with each step. Once they reach his truck, Yoongi rushes ahead a little to open the passenger door, holding it open for the omega. 

Taehyung pauses briefly at the gesture, a tiny smile on his lips. “Thank you.” He brushes his fingers across the back of Yoongi’s hand as he slides into the cab.

Yoongi circles around the hood and climbs in on the other side. The drive to Taehyung’s house is silent. The quiet intimacy of the ride contrasts with the lively energy of their date. 

As they reach Taehyung’s place, neither seems in a rush to part ways. The conversation becomes a bit more subdued, a mixture of shared laughter and more serious reflections on life. 

Taehyung tilts his head against the headrest and sighs. “I should probably head inside. I had a great time tonight, Yoongi.”

“Me too, Tae.” A beat passes before Yoongi starts, “Oh–”

The omega’s hand covers the back of his own. “It’s okay. You can call me Tae.”

A tension eases out of Yoongi, and he flips his hand over, lacing their fingers together. “So, uh, maybe we can do this again? Another dinner, perhaps?”

Smiling, Tae leans closer, “I’d really like that, hyung.”

Their scents intermingle, adding to the intimacy of the moment. The soft glow from a nearby streetlamp casts a warm halo, illuminating the anticipation in Taehyung’s eyes. Yoongi feels a pull and leans in closer, too. 

Yoongi’s fingers find their way to the side of the other man’s neck, his touch gentle yet firm. The warmth of his thumb tracing the line of Taehyung’s jaw. “Tae,” he whispers, “Can I kiss you?”

Taehyung’s response is a quick, eager nod. The warmth of his breath against Yoongi’s lips is a silent affirmation, and the tension between them escalates as the distance between them disappears. Their lips meet in a soft, tentative kiss, a blend of warmth and sweetness that speaks of unspoken desires. 

As their kiss deepens, the world around them fades into the background, leaving only their shared connection. Time seems to stand still in that moment, the quiet acknowledgment of something new and exciting unfolding between them. 

The kiss lingers, a promise of the possibilities ahead, and when they finally pull away, their eyes meet with a newfound understanding. They share a smile and bask in the wonder of the start of something beautiful. 

It’s been a few weeks, and each day gets better. The initial spark from their first date has developed into a deeper connection. Yoongi marvels that in such a short amount of time, the sweet omega has become a staple in his life. Their days are intertwined with laughter, shared secrets, and a growing sense of intimacy. 

Their routine is filled with moments, both ordinary and extraordinary. From lazy Sunday afternoons spent cuddling on the couch, exchanging soft kisses, and recounting the week's events to more adventurous endeavors like taking Taehyung ice skating for the first time at the local rink. Yoongi feels a sense of completeness in Taehyung’s company. 

Their late-night conversations have become a cherished ritual; the quiet vulnerability shared in those moments is strengthening the bond that formed all those weeks ago. Taehyung has become Yoongi’s confidante, a source of comfort, and a partner in the beautiful dance of their blossoming relationship. 

Yoongi sets down the box he brought back from the stock room as he hears his phone ring on the counter. His lips curl into a smile, his chest filling with warmth as he sees Tae’s name flashing across the screen. 

“Hey! Did you miss me already? We just had lunch an hour ago.”  The alpha teases, the memory of their shared meal flashing in his mind. 

“Hyung! Oh my god, you won’t believe what’s happening!” The panicked sound echoing through the receiver has Yoongi straightening from where he was slumped against the counter in alarm.

“What’s going on, Tae?”

“There’s water everywhere! I think there’s a leak under the kitchen sink. It’s like a waterfall in here.”

Even alone, Yoongi can’t help but release calming pheromones wanting to comfort the omega. “Okay, calm down. Do you know where your main water valve is?”

Tae’s frantic voice comes through even higher pitched. “No! I don’t know where that is. Everything is wet, and I’m freaking out. How do I make it stop?”

“Baby, it’s going to be okay. Do you know where your water heater is?”

“Um, um,” Taehyung stutters furiously, trying to remember the layout of the house. “I think so.”

“That’s good. Go to the water heater, and I’ll tell you what to do once you get there.”

Yoongi listens to Tae rush through the house, his breath coming in fast pants. “I’m here! I’m here! What do I do?”

“Do you see a valve anywhere?”

“Is it the handle near the back, halfway up the wall?”

“Yes! Right now, it should be sticking out perpendicular to the pipe. Turn it until it's parallel to the pipe.”

He listens to Taehyung fumble a bit before his voice returns through the phone. “Okay, I turned it. What now?”

“That should have turned the water off. Go and check to see if that stopped it.”

Yoongi listens to the omega rush back through the house. His voice this time is a bit calmer in relief, “It sounds like the water has stopped.” He whines loudly, “There is water everywhere, though, and it’s still spreading.”

Yoongi chuckles, his own energy calming at Taehyung’s relief. “But the main problem is done. Grab some towels, or whatever you have that is absorbent to help contain the mess. Crisis averted.”

“Yeah, thanks to you. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

“Well, now that we’ve conquered the great kitchen flood of 2023, maybe I should come over and check on what went wrong,” Yoongi teases.

Taehyung’s warm laugh sends shivers over Yoongi. “You’re always welcome, especially if you come with your toolbox.”

“Let me close the store, and I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

That’s how, on a late Friday afternoon, Yoongi finds himself at Taehyung’s house with his head underneath the kitchen sink.

Taehyung sits on the kitchen counter, watching anxiously. “So what happened? Why did my kitchen become a lake?”

Yoongi’s voice is a little echo-y as it reverberates around the hollow space, “Your pipe burst. I think water froze inside it when the temperature dropped and caused it to burst. Unfortunately, it just looks like your pipes are old, and time took its toll.”

Taehyung hangs his head, groaning. “Old pipes, huh? I never thought they’d give up on me like this.”

“It happens. Especially with the winter chill, but hey, the good news is we caught it early, and it could have been much worse.” Yoongi continues to work, his hands deftly maneuvering to fix the problem. 

“How do you even know what you are doing?” Taehyung asks curiously.

Yoongi chuckles, “Years of being a responsible adult, Tae. You pick up a thing or two.”

Playfully, Taehyung quips, “I guess I should add ‘adulting’ to my list of skills to brush up on.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’ll get the hang of it eventually,” Yoongi tosses back. He tinkers silently for a few minutes before adding, “You know, dealing with home emergencies together is practically a relationship milestone.”

Taehyung hums, “Is that so?”

“I think so. I’ll take any excuse to spend more time with you.”

Yoongi can’t see the other man’s blush, but he smells the spike in the omega’s chamomile scent. It distracts him just enough that he wrenches a pipe a little too hard, sending the water remaining in the pipe straight onto him. 

“Shit!” He gasps, jerking out from under the sink, and wipes at his face. He clamors to his feet, his white shirt soaked with stale pipe water. 

The omega’s eyes widen as he hops off the counter, rushing over to the alpha. Taehyung’s scent sours as, in a flurry of motions, he pulls at Yoongi’s shirt until it is yanked over his head.

Before Yoongi knows it, he is standing shirtless under the fluorescent glare of the kitchen light—the bright light casting shadows in the dips and hollows of his bare chest. The wet fabric of his shirt hangs limply in the other man’s fist as they both pause.

Taehyung’s lips part on his next exhale as his eyes flicker over the vast expanse of bare skin that is exposed. A new tension fills the air as the previous sharp scent from the omega softens and sweetens, Yoongi’s own scent growing fresher to mix with the omega’s. A beat passes with them both frozen, only inches separating them. 

Between one breath and the next, the two collide. The sodden fabric slips through Taehyung’s fingers, landing on the cool tile floor with a wet slap. Swiftly, the omega trades the clammy chill of the wet cloth for the comforting warmth and silkiness of the alpha’s exposed skin. As Yoongi’s hands assertively find their place on Taehyung’s hips, he effortlessly pulls the other man closer while Taehyung’s large palms tenderly encircle Yoongi’s shoulders. 

Their lips hover closer, breath buffeting against parted lips. Even at this distance, Yoongi’s eyes search the other’s, seeking acceptance before crashing his lips against the omega’s. Taehyung’s arms circle the alpha tighter, sealing their lips together in a searing kiss. 

A deep purr resonates through the alpha’s chest as he tilts his head, sliding their lips against each other. The rest of the world falls away as the building tension ebbs and flows around them.  Taehyung rocks his hips forward, lips parting with a moan when he feels Yoongi’s growing length pressed against him. 

Taking advantage of the opening, Yoongi presses forward, his tongue sweeping into the other man’s mouth. His own groan echoes as the omega’s sweet, floral chamomile scent washes over his palette. He doesn’t want to stop; he feels like he could kiss Taehyung forever. 

As moments have seamlessly slipped away, the kitchen now holds a rich tapestry of their mingling scents. The air is saturated with the delicate freshness of chamomile, gracefully intertwining with the warm and subtly spiced essence of cedar. It blankets them comfortingly, a testament to their undeniable chemistry. Both men feel drawn inextricably to each other. 

The air is thick with unspoken words, each touch and movement communicating more than language ever could. Yoongi’s hands, with firm pressure, run over Taehyung’s hips and lower back; his long fingers teasing lightly over the omega’s ass. They cling to each other even as they pull back, silently rubbing their noses along each other. 

Taehyung rocks his hips forward again, his eyelids fluttering at the long, thick press of the alpha between them. His own body responding in kind and leaking into his briefs, the sweet, honeyed scent of slick tinging the air. The deep timbre of his voice breaks the silent tension in the air, “Please.”

Yoongi’s eyes darken at the omega’s whimper. “Please, what?”

Taehyung’s scent spikes, running his lip between his teeth as he meets Yoongi’s gaze before breathing, “Please, alpha.”

A wicked smile pulls at Yoogi’s lips, his hands sliding down and palming the round globes of the omega’s ass, pulling them tighter against each other. The kitchen fills with the sound of their lips smacking together as they crash back against the counter. The sharp edge digs into the omega’s back, causing him to whine into the alpha’s mouth. 

Yoongi grips his ass and lifts, sliding Taehyung onto the countertop, their lips never parting. Taehyung’s hands slide down Yoongi’s chest until they reach the dark pinkish-brown nipples gracing his pecs. Taehyung slides his mouth away, grazing his teeth along the other’s jaw as he flicks the nubs.

Yoongi groans, digging his fingers into the omega’s hips. His head tips backward as pleasure zings down his spine. Taehyung chuckles, “Someone’s sensitive.”

The alpha’s head snaps upright, eyes sparking, “Two can play at this game.” Yoongi yanks Taehyung forward, pressing tighter in between his spread thighs. Their clothed cocks grinding against each other. It’s Taehyung’s turn to hang his head, moaning as the air thickens with the sweet scent of his slick. “You were saying?” Yoongi’s breath brushes the shell of the other’s ear. 

Tae’s lustful gaze returns to Yoongi’s, “I’m saying that I need you, alpha.” Taehyung’s hands caress down the expanse of Yoongi’s abs until his fingers tease the man’s waistband, thumbing the button. A subtle nod from Yoongi has the man undoing the button snap and sliding down the zipper. Another groan is pulled from the alpha as the pressure around his cock eases. 

The relief is only temporary because soon, the restrictive confines of his jeans is replaced with the firm clasp of Taehyung’s palm. Yoongi snaps his hips forward into the omega’s tight grip, the slide eased by his eagerly leaking tip. Taehyung mouths at the alpha’s neck, his tongue teasing in tight circles and nipping at his fair skin, marking him up. 

The omega’s fist tightens as he speeds up his strokes, his wrist snapping at the height of each stroke. Yoongi’s fingers flex on Taehyung’s thighs as he moans louder. “Fuck, baby, that feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Taehyung leaves a particular stinging nip along Yoongi’s neck. “Are you going to come for me?” He speeds up his strokes, the alpha’s hips snapping into the warm clasp. Taehyung’s other hand slides down to encircle the alpha’s base, his fist gripping firmly as the knot forms at the base of Yoongi’s cock.

Taehyung trails his lips back up the other’s neck, reaching Yoongi’s ear. He swirls his tongue around the lobe before sucking it into his mouth. 

“Ahhhhh—” Yoongi cries out, hips stuttering as his length jerks in the omega’s fist, coating it in sticky, warm wetness. The omega presses gentle kisses to Yoongi’s neck, coaxing him down from his high. Yoongi slumps into the man’s arms, panting. 

Yoongi nuzzles into Taehyung’s neck, inhaling the omega’s sweet scent but being cautious to avoid the scent gland. He works to regulate his breathing as the Taehyung’s grip on his knot remains steady. Only a few minutes pass before he’s trailing his lips along the dark caramel expanse of skin until he reaches Taehyung’s lips. Their lips gently move together, Yoongi’s high dissipating.

“Mmm, darling, you were so good for me.” Taehyung slips his hands from between them, his skin coated in the alpha’s pleasure. Eyeing him boldly, the omega slips two messy fingers into his mouth, swirling his tongue around them until they are sucked clean. 

The alpha’s nostrils flare at the bold gesture. He curls his fingers into the waistband of Taehyung’s jeans and yanks him forward, letting the younger man teeter on the edge for a moment before sliding him to his feet. “Someone made a mess,” his raspy voice filters between them. 

Taehyung grins cheekily, reaching for the kitchen towel to clean the mess on his hands, “A delicious one.”

Yoongi’s thumb deftly releases the fastening of Taehyung’s pants, their lips crashing together again. The kiss is messy and deep, the omega whining into his mouth. Yoongi pulls back, sliding his lips down the omega’s neck.  “That is not really how I saw that going.”

“Mmmm,” Tae murmurs, head leaning back, “It’s okay. I liked making you feel good.”

Yoongi leaves a stinging kiss at the base of Taehyung’s neck before pulling back. “Well, let me make you feel good now.” Yoongi slips Taehyung’s pants open and works the jeans down his hips. The heady aroma of the omega’s slick wafts between them as they're pushed down toward the floor. Yoongi’s eyes flutter close as he inhales deeply, a low growl rumbling from deep in his chest. 

Yoongi yanks harder, ripping the jeans off of the other man, taking his soaked briefs with them. Taehyung’s cock springs out, slapping up against his belly. Slick dripping down the omega’s thighs in thick lines. 

Yoongi’s eyes are sharp as he takes in the wanton man before him. He shifts onto his knees, his long, knobby fingers trailing down his legs until they grip his thighs. Yoongi leans in, nostrils flaring as he breathes deep to soak in the addicting scent of the aroused omega. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to the bare hip before him. His hands move around to cup the back of Taehyung’s knees, lifting one at a time to pull the pooled cloth from around his ankles. 

The omega leans back against the counter, his fingers gripping the granite edge to steady him. His eyes are hooded as he looks down the length of his own body and watches as the alpha shifts one of his legs to rest on his shoulder. 

The alpha trails stinging kisses up the inside of the omega’s thighs until his face nuzzles against Tae’s hard, straining cock. Yoongi swirls his tongue around the thick base of Taehyung’s cock, before leaving a line of wet, open-mouthed kisses up the length until he can circle his tongue around the leaking tip. 

Taehyung sucks in a sharp inhale as his hips buck, pushing the leaking tip into the alpha’s mouth. Yoongi jerks his head back, tsking the omega under his breath. “Uh-uh. Who said you could do that?”

The omega’s cheeks flush with the admonishment, “Sorry, alpha.”

“Patience, baby.” Yoongi strokes his hard length with one hand as his other hand slips behind the omega to ease between wet cheeks. At the feel of his trembling rim, Yoongi moans deep in his chest, feeling how soaked Taehyung is. His extended finger circles, teasing the man’s hole. Yoongi slips Taehyung into his mouth as he simultaneously pushes one digit into the omega’s tight hole. 

Curling his tongue around Taehyung’s leaking tip, Yoongi pumps his finger deeper. He teases the omega, pulling more syrupy, slick, and evocative sounds from the man above him. Soon, Yoongi is three fingers deep and is sliding Taehyung’s length in and out of his throat. 

Taehyung’s head is thrown back, moaning to the ceiling. He buries his hands into the alpha’s hair as he tugs and pushes at his head. Pleasure surges through him. “Fuck…fuck, alpha! You’re making me feel so good.”

Yoongi hums around the girth stretching his throat, and sucks harder, swallowing around Taehyung’s cock. Yoongi’s slick-soaked hand scissors his fingers before surging deeper, targeting that spot deep inside the omega.

Taehyung’s eyes leak as he cries out, back arching as he comes down Yoongi’s throat. His cock spasms over and over as he is drained dry. Yoongi swallows every last drop and slowly pulls back, licking the omega clean as he goes. 

Taehyung slumps against the counter, his arms trembling to hold him as he comes down from his high. Yoongi hums, pressing soft kisses along the other’s hip, gently slipping his fingers from inside him. He soothingly rubs the omega’s thigh as his other fingers slip inside his mouth to lick his fingers clean. Yoongi’s eyes flutter as the omega’s taste bursts across his tongue. 

Taehyung takes a loud shuddering breath, “That…was unexpected.”

Yoongi presses his lips to the inside of the omega’s thigh, hiding his smile, “The best things usually are.”

Taehyung looks down at the alpha still kneeling in front of him, and cups the man’s cheek. “Yoongi, I need you to know…” he pauses, swallowing hard. “I’ve never felt this way before.”

Yoongi leans into the warm touch, smiling as Tae’s thumb strokes across his cheek, “Tae, neither have I. But it feels right, doesn’t it?”

He slides the fingers of his other hand through the alpha’s soft black strands, “It does. It feels more than right; it feels like…home.”

The alpha’s eyes shutter, rolling his mouth to press the softest of kisses to his palm. “Yeah, it does.” Silence settles over them. The two let the intimacy of the moment and the weight of their words sink in. 

“What does this mean for us?” Tae’s words are soft as they’re whispered into the silence.

Yoongi’s head tilts back to meet the deep brown eyes of the man he’s quickly falling for, “I don’t have all the answers, but I want to figure it out with you. Do you want the same?”

“I want us. Whatever that means.” 

“Me too,” Yoongi breathes. 

Their shared gaze is filled with an unspoken understanding that defines the moment they just had. They don’t know what is in store but are committed to exploring it together.

In the days that follow, Taehyung and Yoongi find themselves navigating the delicate waters of a burgeoning relationship. The small town, adorned with holiday decorations, adds an extra layer of magic to their newfound connection. 

One chilly evening, as snowflakes gently descend from the sky, they stroll hand in hand through the twinkling lights of the town square. The air is crisp, filled with the festive scent of pine and the distant sounds of holiday carols. 

Taehyung can’t contain the smile stretching his lips, “I can’t believe how beautiful this town is during the holidays.”

The omega’s boxy grin brings forth Yoongi’s own gummy smile. “It’s like something out of a storybook.”

Their fingers intertwine as they wander through the town’s festive markets, sampling sweet treats and sipping hot cocoa. The cozy warmth of the holiday atmosphere mirrors the growing warmth between them.

As they stroll through the markets, Taehyung feels a surge of emotion in his chest. The twinkling lights, the laughter around them, and the shared moments with Yoongi paint a picture of a perfect holiday season.

Tae tugs on their clasped hands, pulling them out of the flow of pedestrians. They step into a small alcove in front of a closed storefront. “Yoongi, you know, I’ve been thinking…”

“What’s on your mind, baby?” Yoongi gently encourages when the other pauses.

“Well, with Christmas just around the corner, I was wondering if… maybe you’d like to spend it with me?” The last part of the sentence said in a rush of one breath.

Yoongi’s lips part on a caught breath, his eyes softening fondly. “You’re inviting me to spend Christmas with you?”

Taehyung bites his lip and nods. “Yeah, I know it’s a bit last-minute, but I can’t think of anyone I’d rather share the holiday with.”

Yoongi steps closer, closing the space between them. The market fades away as the alpha looks at the omega with fondness. “Tae, I’d love to spend Christmas with you.”

The omega launches himself at Yoongi, his heart swelling with happiness. Their lips press together, the two filled with joy at the promised festivities. The lights around them seem to glow brighter as they lose themselves in each other.

As Christmas approaches, they find themselves caught up in the whirlwind of preparations. From decorating a small tree in Taehyung’s living room to sharing quiet moments by the fireplace, the holiday spirit seems to amplify their connection. 

Yoongi places a handmade ornament on the tree. “This is nice. Really nice.”

Taehyung hums, “It is. And it’s only our first Christmas together.”

“I never thought decorating a tree could be this enjoyable.”

“It’s the company that makes it special,” Taehyung smiles. 

Yoongi tilts his head in agreement. “These ornaments are beautiful, Tae.”

“It’s a tradition in my family. Each ornament tells a story. Now, these ornaments are a part of ours.”

Silence settles over them as they finish decorating and settle in front of the roaring fire. The glow of the tree haloing them in soft light as they cuddle under a shared blanket and admire their handiwork.

Each day is filled with a sweet memory; before they realize it, it’s Christmas Eve. That day, a light snowfall has dusted the town in a soft blanket of white. They sit before a roaring fire and exchange thoughtful gifts as laughter fills the room. 

After their shared candle-lit dinner, they move to the porch and watch the slow drifting of the falling snow. The silence blankets them.

They stand like that in a drawn-out moment before Yoongi turns his head, nestling his lips into Tae’s soft, brown curls on the side of his head. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

Taehyung leans into the alpha’s hold, “Merry Christmas, Yoongi.”

Under the winter sky, they share a tender kiss. A promise of more shared moments and the magic of the holidays weaving together to create another beautiful memory. 

Epilogue - One year later

Yoongi scrunches his face and burrows deeper into his pillow, clinging to the last vestiges of slumber. The featherlight brush of lips along his bare shoulder isn’t deterred and continues its path across his shoulder and up his neck. Their trek slows to a stop behind his ear, settling there and pressing further into the space. Yoongi’s fingers tangle into the sheet as the pressure of those lips increases, sucking and pulling Yoongi out of sleep with a whine. 

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Taehyung whispers in his ear in a deep voice. Yoongi sinks back into Taehyung as the younger man wraps his arm around him, their fingers tangling together. 

“Hmm, why are we awake?” Yoongi grumbles, eyes still closed.

Taehyung’s arm tightens around Yoongi, “I don’t think we should sleep away our second Christmas together.” Taehyung pats his chest one more time before pulling away with a kiss on his cheek. “Hurry up and meet me downstairs.”

He cards his hand through the wet strands of his hair as he lumbers down the wide staircase. Pausing at the base, nose rising in the air, sniffing out the delicious aroma of syrupy pancakes and crispy bacon. He lets his nose lead him toward the kitchen, his eyes lighting up at the spread before him.

"How?”

Taehyung spins around, grinning, "Merry Christmas!”

Youngi's eyes bounce from one food-laden dish to the next.  Confusion swirls through him, and while he had been teaching the omega how to cook, there's no way he had improved enough to make all of this.

Still dumbfounded, Yoongi accepts the champagne flute of mimosa from his love. He eventually pulls his gaze from the pile of food and stares at his love in awe. 

"When did you make all of this? I was only in the shower for like 20 minutes.”

The words barely finish passing his lips when the other man doubles over, giggling uncontrollably. Yoongi just watches on, bemused.

After several moments, Tae regains control of himself and straightens.  

Eyes still sparkling with laughter, his scent ethereal and wafting around them, Tae manages to answer. "Oh god, I wanted to fool you so bad, but I can't. You know I'm ajumma's favorite, and I wanted our second Christmas to be special. So why not have food from our favorite place?” 

Yoongi remains frozen for a moment, then sweeps the omega into his arms. He kisses Taehyung soundly before resting their foreheads together. “My every day is special with you.”

[sope-and-shine]

Maybe We’re A Movie - Sneak Peak

-> Pairing: Jin x Reader -> fluff // minor angst  -> Word Count: 38k -> Summary: Living in the city far away from home, you tend to miss out on family news. So, when you return home for the holiday’s, all you plan to do is spend time with family and catch up on everything you’ve missed since your last visit. You expected the jabs at living so far away and the poking at your barren love life, but you don’t expect to actually find love. Meeting the town’s newest resident and baker, you find yourself falling for his charm and good looks. Everything about him is just so magical…but there’s something strange going on with him and his shop that you can’t quite place. Is it just your hesitation to let him be a Christmas fling? Or is it something more? -> Warning(s): Taegi side pairing, yoonji and hobi side pairing, mild language, lots of familial rough housing, teasing, constant poking and prodding about relationship status, typical ‘when are you going to settle down’ trope, talk about yoongi’s shaky coming out and love life

a/n: I finished this story back in April and I’ve been dying to post it

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“When are you going to find Mr. Right?”

You shrug, “When he drops his coffee on my head.”

“Must you patronize me?” he asks.

“Always.”

“I’m serious here!” He says just a little too loud, “How many nights are you going to go home to your apartment alone instead of going out and looking for someone?”

“Until I keel over.” You state, “Why does it matter?”

“We’re friends, (Y/n). I don’t want you to be lonely for the rest of your life,” He says. 

“I won’t!” You assure him, “I have plenty of time to find a man or a woman or whoever the hell will get you off my back.”

He shrugs, “I’m just saying, you won’t be young forever.”

“You’re just worried I really will steal your fiance,” You joke.

He glares at you, “Be that as it may, I still think you should look at your options.”

“I appreciate your concern, Hannie, but I’m a big girl and I can make my own decisions. I don’t need someone else to make me happy.” You explain. Your phone chimes with the alarm you set, “That’s my cue to leave. I have a train to catch.”

“Just think about what I said.”

“I’ll think about it.”

[mysticaltaegisus]

Currently Writing

Not My Cup of Tea

Rating: Teen and Up Relationship: Taegi Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Magic, Witch Kim Taehyung | V, Witch Min Yoongi | Suga, Witch Park Jimin, Witch Jung Hoseok | J-Hope, Witch Kim Namjoon | RM, Witch Kim Seokjin | Jin, Witch Jeon Jungkook, Married Jinkook, Namseokmin are whipped for each other, Bubble Tea but it's potion, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Attempt at Humor

Chapters: 3/? Current Word Count: 9846 Summary: Taehyung, an extremely gifted and eccentric potion maker, has been in making bubble teas and potions for decades in their small town. When a handsome stranger, Yoongi, comes into Serendipi-Tea, he orders one of the least appealing items on the menu, usually reserved as code for witches, to purchase Taehyung's most potent sleeping draught. Feeling no magical energy from the man's aura, Taehyung assumes he's a 'regular' and boy, Taehyung had never been more wrong in his life. Table of Contents: Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three

[bts-fic-collection]

hello! i'm looking for cuddle buddy fics, any pairing is fine but if yoongs can be the cuddle buddy would be even more great, thank you!

Sure thing! ^_^

Your secret is safe with me by MoonCypher

Rating: Not rated

Pairings: Jungkook & Yoongi

Status: Incomplete

Word count: 6,611

Summary: Jungkook flees to Seoul after he came out as gay. He doesn't have any friends in the new, big city yet, except for a stray cat that won't stop begging him for food and attention. Soon he becomes his best friend and every night they cuddle up together while Jungkook whispers his sorrow, fears and secrets into the cat's fur. It doesn't take long before the cat starts to feel bad that Jungkook doesn't know that he's a shifter.

Solace by tonghua

Rating: E

Pairings: Taehyung/Yoongi

Status: Complete

Word count: 4,353

Summary: Taehyung goes to Yoongi when he needs comfort and normally just a little bit of cuddling is all that’s required. This time, it’s not enough.

invisible map of the world by veausy

Rating: M

Pairings: Yoongi/Jimin

Status: Complete

Word count: 8,305

Summary: He blinks, processing, and finds his eyes drawn to the sight in front of him. Familiar hair and neck. Beloved hair. Beloved neck. He wants to press close and breathe in, suffocate there, wants to do it unafraid. - Or: Jimin finds out he's forcing them to cuddle at night against both their wills and just really doesn't know how to stop.

[psych0catt]

hi :) how're you doing? I hope you're well!

all my writing is on ao3 under the name psychoreads. I have 6 bts books on there!

- ♡ -

in which yoongi loses his shoes when running the 200 metres on sports day, and an unexpected someone assists him when he falls.

this is a slight twist on the tumblr prompt; "a character's footwear falls of when they are trying to run away" (sorry, i don't know who posted this prompt).

approximately 20,350 words.

- ♡ -

the sun was beaming harsher than it ever had before. the usually green grass was looking more of a yellowish green. it blew in the slight breeze, which yoongi would be thankful for if it ever sped up. the racket outside could be heard from where he stood by the door to the main school building, where he held his bottle under an outside tap to fill it up. the noise came from a combination of overly proud parents and teachers shouting people directions.

it was sports day. it was the day yoongi hated with a passion, but he was forced to cooperate. switching off the tap, he screwed on the lid to his water bottle and took a long drink from it, momentarily relieving him from the stupidly hot weather. suddenly, the door burst open from behind him and a group of cheering boys erupted from it.

yoongi watched as they passed, standing awkwardly in the shade as he prolonged having to head over. the group of boys were the populars, always loud and always not giving a shit about it. </p>

yoongi pushed his glasses up his nose as he watched them all come out like a pack of wolves or something. yoongi hated them. he hated them all, except one.

the very last to exit the building was that very person; kim taehyung. taehyung's face was the most beautiful one he'd ever seen, with his features soft yet sharp and his hair always styled to perfection. he used just the right amount of gel every time, just enough so that it would stay in place but you couldn't tell he had any in unless you knew your way around hair gel.

taehyung shot him a small smirk and held confident eye contact with yoongi as he ran his fingers through his hair, all while walking down the stone ramp that led up to the door. yoongi practically melted inside, his stomach swarming with butterflies and his heart thumping hard. yoongi watched taehyung walk away; he watched the way his shorts hugged the crease of his ass whenever he took a step forward. he watched the way his hair bounced as he jogged up to catch up with one of his friends.

fanning his tshirt, yoongi made his way over to the field. while he hated sports day, it would be embarrassing to be late to it.

as soon as be stepped out of the shade, he was reminded of how hot it was out. walking along the gravel, he sighed in frustration and scanned the field for taehyung. he'd looked around for taehyung so often that he'd become a professional at spotting him in a crowd. almost immediately he saw him, doing some kind of a hand shake with jimin, who had always seemed to be his best friend, but that was just yoongi's best guess. in all honesty, he'd never even spoken a word to taehyung, except "excuse me" when he was stood in front of his locker.

yoongi had always really wanted to, but with their school hierarchy, he wouldn't dare approach his friend group to talk to him. he imagines he'd be cussed out by some of them, called slurs and the whole nine yards.

yoongi finally arrived to where he was supposed to wait for his race, which sadly was the 200 metre. his race was the fourth race, and thankfully not the last one either. with his water bottle, yoongi stood alone and watched as people lined up for the first race which was the 1000 metre race. yoongi continued to look around for taehyung, but he couldn't see him anywhere. he furrowed his eye brows. he knew taehyung only did sprints, so he wouldn't be lining up for this race, there was no chance of it.

slowly, he turned around to check behind him, and to his (dis)pleasure, taehyung was stood right behind him, just less than half a metre away since everyone packed into the shade. yoongi trailed his eyes up to his face, and taehyung looked back down at him. his expression didn't change when yoongi made eye contact, and yoongi immediately pulled his eyes away and turned back around.

as boring time passed, everyone eventually began sitting on the grass to save their legs, all except for the people who were running next. they were all the sporty type, and claimed it would be beneficial to stand before their race. yoongi hadn't a clue whether it was true or not, but the fact taehyung was standing up made him trust their words a little more.

picking at the grass by his legs, yoongi kept his head hung on his shoulders as he stared at the grass. his heart was going a million miles an hour, and it showed no sign of slowing down. he was absolutely shitting himself because his race was the next race, he was just waiting for the announcement. he could feel that if he stood up, his legs would be shaking and he might even trip over somebody in the crowd.

"now for the two hundred metre!" shouted his teacher mr kim through a megaphone. "that's park jimin, min yoongi, kim namjoon, jeon jungkook, and jung hoseok!"

yoongi groaned quietly, pushing himself up off the ground and brushing off any grass on his behind. he trudged to the starting line, which just so happened to be all the way across the field, allowing the race to finish in front of the parents and the rest of the students.

yoongi readied himself in his spot, his heart beating way too fast. the rest of the runners, all from taehyung's friend group, looked more than confident. with their muscular builds and reputation for winning running awards, there was hardly any point in him running, but he knew he had to do it anyway. even though he didn't want to, he would try his best, as he didn't want to waste anyone's time and he knew if he was watching someone walk in a race, he would get major second hand embarrassment.

"on your marks, get set.." after those words were spoke, a piercing whistle was blown. after momentarily flinching at the noise, yoongi began to run, his feet going as fast as they could take him. he looked ahead of him, looking at hoseok and he copied his technique and improved his posture. he continued his pace, doing his best to just keep going.

to yoongi's surprise, he began catching up to hoseok who was the last one in the race. but just as success had almost hit him, yoongi felt his shoes become looser. he mentally panicked but he chose to keep running. he kept going and going, doing his best to both ignore the fact they were coming off, and trying to grip his toes so theyd stay on. but eventually, they both flung off his feet as he ran.

"fuck" he whispered to himself, but he kept going, he kept running and running. hoseok was way ahead of him now, as he'd had to slow his pace to try and save his shoes from being lost. he felt more than embarrassed, he felt utterly humiliated and he knew he'd have to go and pick them up when he had finished the race.

the finish line was ahead of him now, and he guessed that he had about ninety metres left to run. yoongi bolted for it, he ran as hard as he could for the finish line. everyone else had already finished, but people were still cheering for him, as if it really mattered.

feeling as though time had slowed, yoongi looked around at the parents and at his classmates. a feeling of loneliness overcame him; he had no friends here, and he had no family here. of course, his family loved him but they didn't bother coming to see him, even if they knew he would fail the race. yoongi's eyes moved to in front of him, and just a short distance from the finish line, his face hit the floor.

a chorus of gasps erupted from the crowd of students and adults, and then a finale of laughter from the students. yoongi pulled himself up off the floor, standing up and just standing there. he brought a hand to his chin, sweating and gasping for air as if he was a dog.

yoongi jogged off of the track, and waved his hands at the teachers to show them he was done. embarrassed and without shoes, yoongi headed for his locker. he was sweaty, he was bleeding and he felt like erupting in tears. he'd never felt so disgusting in his entire life.

feeling shameful, yoongi sped back the way he'd came. he let his eyes get watery and he let drops of blood roll down his hill, and stain his tshirt. sniffling, he mentally prepared himself to walk along the probably hot gravel.

suddenly a hand grabbed his shoulder, and he jumped.

"ah, sorry. I thought you would've.. heard me" said the voice. turning around, yoongi was more than shocked to see taehyung breathless and holding his shoes. yoongi didn't speak and neither did taehyung; they both just stared at eachother for a while. yoongi looked back at everyone, and back to taehyung.

"it's your race now, right?" asked yoongi, his voice shaky and breathless. with a muddy hand from falling, yoongi wiped his eyes from tears. taehyung looked so attractive, even when he was sweating buckets.

with a smile, he replied, "yeah" he breathed out, and held his shoes out for yoongi to take. with a shaky hand, yoongi took them and continued to look up at taehyung. his hair was messy now, but his golden skin shone beautifully from the sweat. </p>

"there's gonna be the same race next week at a sports event anyway, and my run to grab your shoes then up here was all the exercise I could need today" he laughed, smiling that smile that yoongi had always admired from afar but never actually seen it up close. the way his face scrunched up when he did it was so charming to yoongi.

"wow" thought yoongi as he stared at the beauty that was kim taehyung.

"wow?" repeated taehyung in a questioning tone. he began walking towards the school, and gestured for yoongi to follow him. yoongi's cheeks had a red tint to them.

yoongi didn't speak, he didn't know what to say to him. they walked together until they reached the concrete, where yoongi quickly and awkwardly put his shoes on.

"I'm gonna take you to the bathroom and clean you up. I would take you to the medical room but they take ages to actually help you. I've got a first aid kit in my locker" stated taehyung. the pair of them started walking again, going towards the same door that taehyung had come out of earlier.

"oh, okay" yoongi replied, hiding how confused he was. the pair of them walked to taehyung's locker and picked up the first aid kit. yoongi kept his eyes trained on taehyung's hands, watching how they moved to input his locker code, how they held the locker door open. his finger nails were beautifully well kept, and his hands in general looked well kept. his skin looked softer than a babies bum. his hands were the most elegant yoongi had ever seen.

"right, got it. let's just go in there" smiled taehyung, grabbing yoongi's wrist and guiding him to the bathroom across the hall. yoongi stared at taehyung's hand around his wrist, his heart beating faster the more he held onto it.

taehyung put the first aid kit besides one of the sinks, opening it up and pulling out a few things packets as well as a couple plasters, one bigger than the other. yoongi stood beside taehyung, staring at all his stuff and trying not to look up at him. he did it anyway. even in bad lighting, he still looked stunning.

"sit up on the counter" directed taehyung. yoongi blushed slightly at the dominance in his voice. it was just an instruction, but yoongi couldn't help bit feel attracted by it.

"you have all this with you just every single day?" questioned yoongi, fiddling with his bracelet. he wasn't supposed to wear jewelry on sports day, no one was, but he always wore this bracelet, and he hadn't been told off for it before.

"yeah" answered taehyung with a shrug, opening up one of the pockets. "no one knew you'd trip over your own foot today, but now you're alright because I've got my kit"

yoongi laughed at taehyung's answer, holding his hand over his mouth as he did so. he had always been quite shy, and a little insecure about his smile especially with people like taehyung.

"your chin has been bleeding a lot, is it alright if I touch?" asked taehyung, his voice soft. his eyes went from his chin up to his eyes when he asked the question. gulping anxiously, yoongi nodded.

taehyunv brought a hand up to yoongi's chin, moving it around and trying to get a closer look at it.

"you must've hit it on a rock or something. you've got some dirt in it though" told taehyung, looking up to yoongi's eyes as he held his chin. with the other hand, he gently dabbed what looked like a wipe over the gash.

"ahh!" whined yoongi, closing his eyes and holding taehyung's arm from the pain. taehyung laughed a little, and yoongi did his best not to smile.

"it's just a little lemon wipe, yoongi" teased taehyung. yoongi didn't reply, but he opened his eyes again. he was amazed that he knew his name.

"what, you think I didn't know your name? how couldn't I know the name of the leader of the school book club" he replied, laughing at his own joke. yoongi scoffed at the mocking words, his face turning peachy.

"okay, mr I spend more time running than sleeping" retorted yoongi, making taehyung scoff this time. just to mock him some more, he mocked his scoff.

suddenly taehyung had a serious look on his face, and he gripped his face harshly. yoongi's eyes shot open in a panic, and his whole body tensed up.

"hey, stay still. this is like surgery" he finally said, laughing the last few words out. yoongi didn't move his mouth, he only rolled his eyes which made taehyung laugh even more.

"you look petrified. I'm not gonna bite you, unless you want me to" taunted taehyung, his mouth pulled into a smirk. yoongi's stomach twisted.

"why would I?" responded yoongi, his hands clasping onto the edge of the counter.

"ahh, I don't know. you seem to really like me treating your injuries. you might want more for me to treat, hm?" he teased. yoongi looked at taehyung with serious eyes. he was confused at what taehyung was saying, what he was doing, why he was doing it.

"why are you speaking to me this way?" asked yoongi, his voice cracking a little as he spoke. taehyung's face was overcome with worry and confusion.

"like what?" he replied, taking his and the wipe away from yoongi's face. the cut on his chin was clean and no longer bleeding, and all the blood on his neck had been cleaned up.

"you're being nice, but in a weird way" yoongi accused, wiping his left eye as a tear threatened to fall as he bared the sting of the lemon wipe.

"flirting?" whispered taehyung, to which yoongi fell still and silent. he was shocked. not only was he coming out to him, but he was flirting with him.

"I mean, I guess I am," taehyung said, answering his own question with a shrug, "I know I shouldn't, its... weird. but I always see you looking at me, looking around for me, blushing when I look at you.."

yoongi's eyes widened even more, his cheeks becoming red as he laughed at what taehyung had said.

"I don't do that" argued yoongi, his cheeks a raging pink, "wrong person"

taehyung laughed with him, stepping closer again. he picked up the bigger looking plaster and unwrapped it. with a finger, taehyung gently pushed yoongi's chin up. he gently applied the plaster and rubbed the edges of it to ensure that it was on properly.

"yeah sure, but it doesn't matter" taehyung replied, reaching for a new wipe and wiping off yoongi's muddy hands and muddy knees. yoongi was a blushing mess, trying his best not to show it.

the two of them sat in silence for a while, taehyung cleaning yoongi up and yoongi letting him. it was peaceful, but it still felt weird and slightly wrong. yoongi thought about taehyung's friends and how they'd react if they saw them doing this, if they say taehyung doing this. yoongi knew they were homophobic, he'd heard of incidents involving them, and the most recent one was only a week ago. he had no idea how they were still able to run the races after it all.

"if your friends knew.." mumbled yoongi.

taehyung looked up at him with soft eyes, and reached a hand up to yoongi's cheek. he wiped the tear that fell, and stood as close as he could to him.

"I know.. they're not great, but they're all my childhood friends and my family friends. I don't have a choice other than to like them, except jimin. he's a lot different, he's quite like you when he's not with the others" began taehyung, and yoongi raised a brow at that. "I know I don't really know you but, I know you a little bit. you like to read, you're shy, reserved, you only have a couple friends"

yoongi laughed. "a couple is plenty to me"

taehyung furrowed his brows. "a couple? what about the book club?"

yoongi smiled at him. "I don't really consider them friends, I just love talking about my books" explained yoongi, "and they don't really consider me a friend too"

taehyung looked sad at that news, and looked away for a second, but he quickly looked back. reaching both hands up, taehyung carefully clasped both sides of yoongi's black framed chunky glasses and placed them to one side. he winced at what he saw underneath the nose bit.

"oh yoongi, your poor nose" whispered taehyung. yoongi turned around and looked at himself in the mirror, seeing the gash in his nose. he sighed at the sight and turned back around to taehyung.

"I hope my glasses stay on my nose" he noted, making taehyung smile a little. he carefully applied the small circular plaster to yoongi's nose, and handed him back his glasses. yoongi was really blown away by taehyung's kindness, and by everything that had happened between them today. taehyung had been flirting with him, and had spent the past goodness knows how long cleaning up his wounds for him.

"I'm sure you'll be fine, yoongi" smiled taehyung, watching fondly as yoongi put his glasses back on. "you look cute" he added.

blushing, yoongi looked away but taehyung was quick to protest.

"nu uh uhh" he said. yoongi looked back to see him tapping his cheek expectedly. yoongi curled his toes in his shoes and let the feeling of butterflies in his tummy arise.

yoongi didn't move for a few seconds, just looking at taehyung and wondering what to do. he wanted to do it, but he'd never kissed anyone and he felt awkward kissing someone on the cheek. and this was kim taehyung, out of everybody. he was panicking, and he didn't know what to do, but he made up his mind after a while.

yoongi leaned forward on the bench, and put his hands over taehyung's cheeks, making him face him. and then, he stared at him, their faces not too far apart. yoongi's eyes traced over every part of taehyung's face until they rested on his lips.

taehyung smiled slightly at him, and placed his hands on yoongi's thighs, opening them and stepping closer. he waited for yoongi, to see if he would do anything.

"sorry.." whispered yoongi, letting out a breathy and awkward laugh. they held eye contact for a few seconds, before taehyung broke it. his dark brown eyes looked down to yoongi's parted lips, open just partially.

"don't apologise" he whispered in response. yoongi's eyes widened before he shut them firmly. his palms slightly sweaty, he held taehyung's cheeks as their lips gently connected. yoongi's whole face relaxed, his whole body relaxed at the feeling. he focused on nothing but his lips, relishing in how soft they were and how great it felt to do this. he almost felt as though he was in a trance. he couldn't think clearly, too focused on what was happening.

slowly, taehyung moved his lips, gently feeling yoongi's. the kiss was heavenly. it was all yoongi ever wanted. every other sensation felt dulled when he kissed him, his mind gone fuzzy. not thinking straight, yoongi let out a small whine. taehyung pulled away from the kiss, keeping their faces close.

"min yoongi... who'd have thought?" whispered taehyung, his tone curious and fond.

yoongi waited a few seconds for him to expand on what he'd said, but his crush for two years didn't. "thought.. what?" he asked, whispering just like taehyung.

taehyung smiled at him, holding eye contact.

"who'd have thought you'd be my first kiss"

[limelight-write]

Thantophobia

fandom: BTS

pairing: Suga | Min Yoongi/V | Kim Taehyung

word count: 2,555

other: nightmares, emotional hurt/comfort, dream major character death, he’s not really dead though

summary:

Thantophobia

(n.) the fear of losing someone you love

“Last night, he told Jungkookie he’d be right back, he was just going for a walk. Someone found him in the park, Yoongi, he was attacked.”

Yoongi drops the spoon he’s using to stir, freezing.

read on AO3

read here:

The night before had been so normal . Yoongi stayed in the studio until the late hours of the night. When he got back to the dorm the only people awake were Jungkook and Taehyung playing games on the TV. Taehyung. Taehyung had been right there . He was fine. Yoongi had just gone to bed without saying anything to them.

God , he wishes he had said something.

When Seokjin wakes him up in the morning he’s crying. Yoongi shoots up, confused and worried, “Hyung, what’s wrong?”

“Yoon,” Seokjin chokes, more tears spill over his red cheeks, “Yoongi, it’s Tae.”

Yoongi furrows his brow, “I don’t understand, hyung, what’s wrong with Taehyung, what happened?”

Seokjin sits on the edge of Yoongi bed, crumbling in on himself as he sobs, “Last night, he told Jungkookie he’d be right back, he was just going for a walk,” Yoongi still doesn’t know what’s wrong, but there’s a pit forming in his stomach, “Someone found him in the park, Yoongi, he was attacked.”

“Attacked?” Yoongi repeats, voice hoarse.

“He was taken to the hospital, but Yoongi,” Seokjin cries harder, reaching out and gripping Yoongi’s hand with force, “He didn’t… he stopped… he didn’t make it through the night.”

Yoongi freezes, whole body turning rigid and cold, “This isn’t funny,” he snaps, pushing himself out of bed on shaky legs, “I don’t know what kind of sick joke this is, but it isn’t funny.”

“Yoongi, stop.”

Yoongi yanks his hand from Seokjin’s hold, “Where is he? The living room?” He stumbles out of his bedroom, Seokjin calling in broken sobs behind him. He has to use the wall for support when he rushes into the living room.

Namjoon is holding Jungkook and Jimin tightly on the couch, Namjoon looks numb but his eyes are shining with tears. Jimin is sobbing wretched sobs against Namjoon’s neck. Jungkook is biting his hand to muffle his own sobs, holding Jimin’s hand across Namjoon’s lap with his free one. Hoseok’s thrown across Namjoon’s lap, sitting on the floor, shaking and crying like a Disney Princess. It would have been amusing, how close they are to one another, if there wasn’t someone so obviously missing.

“Where’s Taehyungie?” Yoongi chokes out, vision flattening. Jimin cries harder and Jungkook shakes his head. Yoongi turns back to the bedrooms, tripping over himself to get to Taehyung’s room, “Taehyung-ah!” He calls over and over again with increasing panic. He can hear Namjoon and Seokjin calling behind him but his ears are buzzing with static. Seokjin and Namjoon throw their arms around him just as Yoongi’s legs give out from underneath him, the two of them holding him so he doesn’t collapse to the floor.

“Hyung,” Namjoon cries against his ear, “Hyung, he’s not here, he’s gone.”

Yoongi shakes his head, tears finally building in his eyes, “Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung,” he mutters over and over again through thick sobs. Somewhere along the way Hoseok crashes into them, making them all fall forward on Taehyung’s— Taehyung— bed. They cry in a pile, only moving back to the living room when Jimin’s sobs turn to something akin to screams.

Jungkook’s holding Jimin to his chest back on the couch, Jimin screaming his sobs harsher than any of them have heard anyone cry before. Jungkook’s crying apologies over and over again, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have let him go, I should have gone with him, I should have had him take a manager with him, or a bodyguard, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, Jiminie, I’m so sorry, it’s my fault, I’m sorry.”

And in turn, Jimin is screaming and crying back, “It’s okay, you can’t blame yourself, don’t be sorry, you didn’t know, I’m sorry, please don’t blame yourself, you can’t do this to yourself, it’ll be okay, Jungkookie, I’m sorry, I miss him, why would he go ?”

They’re practically laying on top of each other, tears mingling together where Jungkook’s drips down his neck and Jimin cries against them.

Yoongi watches them from the hallway for a beat before he’s shaking with tears again, “Hyung,” he turns to Seokjin, “I never told him.”

Seokjin hugs him again, pressing Yoongi against his chest, “I know, Yoongi.”

“I never told him, he never knew,” Yoongi sobs, clutching his only hyung’s shirt with a desperation he’s never felt before, “I never told him I love him, hyung, I never-” he passes out before he can finish his sentence.

Yoongi jolts up in his bed, gasping for air that he can’t quite get into his lungs, clawing at his own chest and coughing. He can hear his own breath in his ears, grating and shallow. His cheeks are wet with tears that are still pouring from his eyes. He blocks his mouth with the back of his hand, unable to stop sobs from raking out of his throat.

Taehyung .

Had he dreamed it all? But he had passed out in the end, and it felt so real . Maybe…

He can’t take any chances. Before he can stop himself he’s rolling out of bed and throwing his door open. It’s dark. It must be late at night still, all the lights in the dorm are shut off, but he knows how to get to Taehyung’s room, he doesn’t need to see to get there. He opens the door as quietly and quickly as possible, he doesn't want to wake the others up if he can help it.

Taehyung’s inside, he’s there, breathing, illuminated by the moon through his open window blinds. He’s ready for bed, looks like he was about to climb under his covers to sleep, but now he’s squinting through the darkness to see who burst into his room.

“Yoongi hyung?” Taehyung calls quietly, and the moment Yoongi hears his voice air comes crashing back into his lungs with painful speed, causing him to let out a gasp that quickly fades into a quiet sob, “Hyung, what’s wrong?”

Yoongi’s legs feel ready to collapse as he tries to step toward Taehyung who seems to understand that Yoongi’s trying to reach him and walks to him instead.

The minute he’s within reach Yoongi lunges his hands forward, pushing his hands through Taehyung’s hair, and down his face and neck, grasping for anything he can hold to prove that Taehyung is here . Taehyung places steadying hands on Yoongi’s waist, and he looks so worried that Yoongi can’t help but cry more, “Hyung?”

“You’re here,” Yoongi says in an almost silent cry, hands cupping Taehyung’s face, “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” Taehyung nods, squeezing Yoongi’s waist firmly, “I’m right here, hyung, it’s okay.”

Yoongi wraps his arms around Taehyung, pulling him into a tight hug. With his face pressed against Taehyung’s neck he cries more freely, hiccuping out sob after sob. He thinks about Jimin in his dream, crying into Jungkook’s neck, and cries harder. Taehyung holds him tightly, whispering reassurances into his ear.

“I was so scared,” Yoongi sobs, “I was so, so scared. I thought I lost you, thought I lost you for good, fuck , Taehyungie, I was so scared.”

“Did you have a nightmare?” Taehyung asks softly, and Yoongi just nods, crying a little softer, “It wasn’t real, it’s okay, I’m still here. Right here, hyung, I’m not going anywhere, I’m here.”

It takes five more minutes of broken sobs and reassurances before Taehyung’s able to manhandle Yoongi to his bed, sitting beside each other with their hands intertwined.

Now that he isn’t crying uncontrollably a feeling of pure embarrassment and shame creeps up on Yoongi, “I’m sorry, Tae, if I had stayed in my room I could have calmed myself down, I shouldn’t have come and bothered you.”

“Hyung,” Taehyung’s voice is firm but so soothing, “I’m so glad you came to me. You always encourage me to seek people out when I’m upset, the same goes for you.”

Yoongi sighs, bringing his free hand up to wipe his drying tears from his cheeks, partly to hide the new tears forming in his eyes.

“What was your nightmare about?”

Yoongi’s stomach twists uncomfortably when images of his dream flash in front of his eyes, “You,” he starts, taking deep breaths so his throat won’t close up, “You went for a walk the night before, by yourself. Something happened, I don’t know, but hyung came and woke me up, and he was crying, and-”

“Hey, hey,” Taehyung cups Yoongi’s cheek, drawing his face to make him meet Taehyung’s eyes, “Breathe, okay? You’re panicking again. It’s okay.”

“Okay,” Yoongi sucks in a deep breath before he continues, slower this time, “He told me you’d been attacked, I don’t know, you didn’t make it to the hospital on time,” he’s crying again, he realizes, tears burning his raw cheeks, “I didn’t even say goodnight the night before, I never got to say goodbye, you were just gone . There was so much crying, Jiminie,” he’s shaking again, holding back sobs, “Jiminie was sobbing so loudly, and Seokjin hyung had to hold me because I couldn’t stand on my own. It felt so real , I woke up and couldn’t remember if it really happened, I was just so scared.”

“But it didn’t really happen, Yoongi hyung, and I’m right here,” Taehyung leans forward and presses a kiss to Yoongi’s forehead, “I’m right here, it’s okay.”

Taehyung hugs Yoongi again, whispering reassurances in his ear again, “I feel like such a baby,” Yoongi laughs wetly.

Taehyung hums, “A baby, my baby, my baby hyung,” he teases and Yoongi laughs again, “Do you want to sleep here, baby?”

Yoongi flushes pink at the pet name but nods, “If that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay, of course, as long as you can deal with my clinginess.”

“I was just about to ask if this means I get your cuddles,” Yoongi smiles softly against Taehyung’s neck.

“Always,” Taehyung pets his hair before pulling away, “Let’s get you under these covers, baby.”

Yoongi shakes his head fondly, allowing Taehyung to move him under the blankets. When they’re both under the covers, their eyes having adjusted to the dark already enough for them to move comfortably, Taehyung hugs Yoongi to his chest, their legs entangled. Yoongi’s hands clutch Taehyung’s shirt and he feels like he can’t ever be close enough to Taehyung right now. Taehyung hugs him as close as possible anyway, giving Yoongi’s head another kiss, “Sleep, hyung. It’s okay. I’m right here.”

Yoongi’s making dinner for everyone to sit down and share for the first time in a while. It’s been three days since his nightmare, and neither he nor Taehyung have told anyone about it. Taehyung treats him a little differently, but not in a way that Yoongi minds. It’s small things, like sitting closer, and touching Yoongi more casually. It’s nice.

Yoongi’s almost finished with dinner when Taehyung walks to the door, “Where are you going, Tae-ah? Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Oh, hey, hyung! I won’t be gone long, I’m just gonna go for a walk, get some fresh air. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

“Last night, he told Jungkookie he’d be right back, he was just going for a walk. Someone found him in the park, Yoongi, he was attacked.”

Yoongi drops the spoon he’s using to stir, freezing.

“Hyung?” Taehyung calls, frowning, “I’m just going for a walk, I’ll be right back.”

“No,” Yoongi says, and he hears how loud he says it belatedly. Taehyung flinches. His yell seems to attract attention from the connecting living room where the others are.

“Everything okay?” Namjoon calls. Yoongi ignores him.

“No?” Taehyung repeats, confused, “It’s just a walk, I’ll be back in no time.”

“No, you can’t,” Yoongi snaps again and he can feel how his voice wavers, “You can’t, I won’t let you.”

The others are standing and watching them now but Yoongi doesn’t care, watching instead as realization dawns on Taehyung’s face.

“Oh, hyung,” he rushes forward, trying to cup Yoongi’s face in his hands but Yoongi shrugs him off, turning away to hide his tears that have begun to form, “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think. I’m so sorry.”

Yoongi’s shoulders shake as he speaks in a wet voice, “You can’t, Taehyung, I can’t,” he’s cut off when he makes eye contact with Taehyung and the younger man pulls him into a hug.

“I’m sorry, I won’t go.”

“I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t lose me. I’m right here, I won’t go. I’m not going anywhere.”

Yoongi cries into Taehyung’s shoulder, “I’m so stupid, this is so stupid, it wasn’t even real .”

“It’s okay, you’re not stupid, it’s not stupid if it’s hurting you.”

Yoongi pulls back, wiping his tears and laughing humorlessly, “I’m sorry, Tae, I didn’t mean to yell at you, but,” he takes a shaky breath, “Please don’t go, will you stay? I’ll be so worried.”

“Of course, don’t apologize, it’s okay,” Taehyung smiles. They’re interrupted when Jungkook clears his throat awkwardly.

“Hyung, are you okay?” He asks Yoongi, and Yoongi nods.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. I had a nightmare a few nights ago, a bad one. Taehyungie just reminded me of it, but it’s fine. I’m fine.”

Seokjin crosses the kitchen and looks into the pot, “Dinner looks ready,” he casts a smile at Yoongi, “Let’s forget about it with good food, yeah?”

That night, after dinner, Taehyung asks if Yoongi will sleep in his room again. Yoongi agrees, and when he’s ready for bed he meets Taehyung there.

“Hey, hyung?” Taehyung bites his lip, “If it had been someone else, would it have scared you as much?”

“What?”

“I mean, if it had been Jungkookie, or Jiminie. Would you have panicked as much when you woke up?”

Yoongi swallows thickly, “It felt so real, Taehyungie, it would have been scary no matter who it was,” he sits down beside Taehyung, “But it was different, because it was you.”

“Different how?”

“Well,” he laughs softly, “I’m not in love with Jiminie or Jungkookie, for starters,” Taehyung’s mouth drops open in a soft ‘o’, “I had been so afraid that I’d lost you before I could tell you that. I was still afraid these last few days that I might lose the chance to tell you. Until right now, I guess.”

“You’re in love with me?”

Yoongi looks up at Taehyung who’s staring at him in shock, but not unkindly, “Yeah,” Yoongi breathes in response quietly.

Taehyung leans forward and pulls Yoongi into a brief hug. When he lets go he’s grinning, “I love you too,” he kisses Yoongi’s forehead.

Yoongi had been pretty sure for a long time that Taehyung felt the same way, but he was worried about how it would affect the group, so he never said anything. Now, he doesn’t know why he was so afraid to begin with. This is Taehyung , and it’s Yoongi , and it’s just them . He’d do anything to be able to be with him.

“You missed,” Yoongi smirks, and Taehyung laughs, leaning forward again and pressing their lips together. They fit together easily, like they were meant for each other.

“Hyung, I can’t kiss you if you’re smiling,” Taehyung says against Yoongi’s mouth, but he’s smiling too, both of them trying desperately to stop their lips from revealing their teeth.

“I can’t help it,” Yoongi laughs, cupping Taehyung’s face, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[hey-snow]

it seems like one of those nights

pairing: taehyung/yoongi

word count: 8319

tags: 5+1 things, this is a 2023 min yoongi appreciation post with a hint of mint yoongi just for fun

summary: If Yoongi says yes, they’re meant to get out of there together. He believes in fate like that.

OR five nights when Taehyung and Yoongi escape and one morning when they stay.

rating: mature

link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45052528

[vminhoes]

Count me in

Jimin has had it with his boyfriends fucking without him.

[wiinterchiild]

my hands in yours - oh god, i'm in love

Taegi

First Date AU

Fluff

Yoongi gave up on dating for a long time ago after getting dumped and stood up on dates several times. Until, Kim Taehyung came. “Don’t say things like that!” He groans with blushed cheeks. “Someone will think you are serious” “About wanting a second date?” “About me setting the café on fire.”

[ijungkoookiereads]

in all dishonesty

Author: fruitily

Word count: 3,2k

Rating: T

Pairing: Taegi

Summary:

while taehyung is trying to figure out whether or not min yoongi wants to stab him with a fountain pen, they find out they make an excellent team when it comes to board games.

[ugh-yoongi]

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. ♡

[theharrowing]

White Lies

Yoongi is everything you could ask for. He is attractive, confident, and smart. And his partner Taehyung is as possessive as he is beautiful. Too bad a relationship would be a major conflict of interest.

You need to have them, at all costs.

🤍 Yoongi x Female Reader x Taehyung

🤍 word count: work in progress (currently 10.5k words) + images of social media posts & text conversations

🤍 college au, partial social media au with a lot of written story, strangers to lovers & established relationship, yandere, hurt/comfort, smut, fluff, angst, slash, poly, minor character injury & death, graphic violence, nsfw, 21+.

🤍 warnings: 🕊 dead dove 🕊. toxic relationships (dishonesty, jealousy, yandere behavior); ACAB includes our MC, sorry you found out this way; corrupt policing. more specific warnings coming soon, pending the release of each chapter.

🤍 part 2 of the Rose-Tinted Obsessions series

🤍 this is a sequel to Boy Blue! i highly recommend that you start at the beginning to fully understand the the dynamic & history between Yoongi & Taehyung. there will be a lot of references to Boy Blue; this fic will spoil the shit out of it. this includes some major character deaths!!! this MC/reader character is not the same MC/reader character from Boy Blue.

🤍 note: all detective work and cop jargon in this fic is either made up on the spot or comes from years of watching/listening to true crime media. i have no credentials in this field and i do not claim to know what i am talking about. for the sake of simplicity & also my sanity, all dialogue that is written and spoken is going to be in English. characters are from Korea and living/working in the US, and we can fill in the gaps between what language they are speaking in which context. also, although i try to keep the mc's physical description vague, i will refer to her as having curves and having hair that can be gripped onto. length and texture will be left vague. places mentioned are completely made up. i may be using actual city and neighborhood names to make it feel real, but every school, bar, etc. is fake and any similarities they have to real places is coincidence.

🤍 also note: this fic is going to be extremely contrived and dramatic, just like its predecessor was. we are not here for award winning story telling; think of it like a trashy daytime soap opera and a gore porn horror film had a baby. obviously, i do not condone the behaviors in this story; it is a work of fiction.

🤍 written parts beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🤍 check out the playlist!

🤍 posted nov. 2023 - present | read on ao3

INDEX

0: Introductions | 0 words + screencaps

1: Do not, under any circumstances, become emotionally attached to either of these men | 2.9k words + screencaps

— TaeGi POV 1: What the fuck is this??? | 0 words + screencaps

2: Sleep sweet, pretty | 7.4k words + screencaps

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White Lies copyright 2021-2023 theharrowing, all rights reserved. No translations or reposts are allowed!