#none of you have actually read them bc if you did? well you'd be as embarrassed as i am for you

[ashdoesfandomarchieved]

"eldest daughter, fat ass, smart ass, annoying ass, himbo looking ass" dick grayson who only cares about his younger siblings and how he's failing them 😔 forever angee at batman for taking robin away 😔 depression king who's secretly the most badass batfam member 😔 its true he can kick everyones asses i promise i totally have comic evidence for this 😔

"trigger happy, pit snappy, bumbling lackey" jason todd who just secwetly wanna come howme but batman made him swad bc he gave rwobin to twim but its ok bc the rest of the batfam will bring him home via the power of being superior to him in every way 🙏

"caffeine addicted, smartest kiddo ever, insecure looking ass" tim drake who's totally the smartest person in the entire batfam like have you heard how smart he is and how insecure he is and how he'll totally sacrifice himself for everyone in the batfam bc he thinks is worthless and also did i mention he's not allowed to have coffee anymore 😔

"excuse me while i insert the worst selectively mute representation i could possibly write while also being semi racist and also making one of the coolest DC characters an absolute annoying asshole bc we all know that She's Always Right About Never Killing anyone and never made a mistake ever" cassandra caine who's just there to be silent in the background until she's plot relevant to the fic.

"what if we made jason todd but the meanest bitch alive" stephanie brown who inexplicably is happy to be in the batfam. you've never read a comic of hers i guarantee.

"lets make draco malfroy but he's from the middle east and no i wont do a single bit of research about any countries over there im just going to insert a hollywood caricature of what i think that culture is like. also he hurt tim and tim is sad oh no :(" damian wayne who's just there to make obvious statements about the situation at hand like he's an idiot.

i'd add duke but no one adds duke to their fics.

not even commenting on bruce bc there isn’t enough time in the world to examine how current comic writers and fanon fight for who can write him the worst.

i'd be embarrassed if this was how i saw the batfam. like damn y'all this is so embarrassing for you. i hope you're embarrassed. its impossible to filter this bullshit out of the tagging system and i get about midway point through a fic and realize im about to get second hand embarrassment for you. i

not to be a hater or whatever but y'all write batfam so bad its embarrassing

[viaoverthemoon]

Unavoidable

Leon Kennedy x AFAB!Reader

Okay, this one is pretty self-indulgent bc I'm REALLY dreading that I have to do this soon. I've been told it isn't that bad and I've been told it hurts like hell. Guess I'll just have to find out.

DISCLAIMER: I have never physically experienced a pap smear before! Please do not think that what happens in this is ACTUALLY how it feels. This is just how I THINK it would feel.

Summary: You ask Leon to come with you for your very first pap smear that you have been dreading so long about.

Tw: Mentions of medical equipment, Uncomfortable medical procedures, pain, reader has a fear of doctors, minor description of anxiety (if u squint), lotsss of praise, comfort, fluff

DETAILED MEDICAL PROCEDURE AHEAD!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

Enjoy!

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"Oh my gosh, I'm so nervous,"

Leon tightly holds your hand as you sit on the stiff hospital bed, watching as your other hand anxiously fiddles with the hospital gown you wear.

You'd been dreading this day for the past week. After giving your virginity away to Leon, you'd told your mother. She'd immediately suggested getting the pap smear you'd once told her you wouldn't get until you lost your virginity.

You spent the week doing intense research, seeing multiple reactions that different people have had. None of them were the same, and that scared you beyond belief.

Leon watched your silent meltdown, wishing there was something he could do. He did his own research as well, diving into the internet and becoming slightly uncomfortable, but still trying to find out if there was some way he could comfort you. His search ended in uselessness, him not being able to find anything that would help him aid you.

But he saw a chance for redemption when you suddenly asked him to come with you.

And so the day had come.

Leon rubs his thumbs over your knuckles, noticing the trembling of your hands. "Don't be nervous sweetheart. I'm right here. Just hold on to me."

You smile at Leon, about to tell him how appreciative you are, but jump when the door opens.

The doctor enters the room, eyes looking at the two of you before she smiles softly. "First time?"

You offer a shaky smile and nod as you hold Leon's hand a little tighter.

The doctor laughs softly as she takes a seat in the rolling chair and flips through the papers on her clipboard. "I'm so sorry, love. But I'll try and makes this as quick as possible, promise. Let me ask you a few questions first."

She asks you the basic questions; 'Are you sexually active?' 'Is there a possibility that you may be pregnant?' 'When was your last menstrual cycle?' The classics.

Once she finishes the questions, she stands from her chair and begins to put the equipment she needs onto a small tray.

A sharp exhale leaves your lips and you opt to staring at the ceiling rather than what she's gathering, taking deep breaths to distract yourself.

Leon rubs your shoulder in a comforting manner, whispering small praises into your ear as he moves your hair to the side to kiss your temple. The doctor explains the process to you as calmly as possible.

"I put some gel on the speculum to ensure that it goes in easy and comes out easy. You may feel a slight pinch, but this shouldn't last longer than 2 minutes max. After that, I'll insert a swab and wipe around the cervix, and then I'll insert a soft brush into the cervix. After that, we're done!"

God, why are you sweating so much?!

You nod to the doctor as she pulls on her gloves, the anxious feeling never leaving as you try to take deep breaths. Leon kisses your shaking hand. "You're doing so good, angel. It'll be over before you know it."

You squeeze his hand to let him know you heard him before the doctor speaks again. "Okay, starting with the speculum,"

You wince a little at the intrusion as your heart leaps. And just when you think 'this isn't so bad', you feel the stretch.

You squeeze Leon's hand again and little ow, ow, ow's leave your lips as you whip your gaze away from the doctor. She and Leon begin to tell you how good you're doing and how it's almost over.

"I'm so sorry sweetheart. You're doing so good! Don't even look at her, just look at me. I'm right here. I've got you."

The praise momentarily takes your mind off of the tickling feeling of the swab, until the brush comes and enters your cervix.

You suck in a breath between your teeth at the less painful pinch, bringing yours and Leon's wrapped hands to your mouth to keep from swearing at the poor doctor.

Then she pulled out the brush, closing the speculum and taking it out of you. "Okay! All done! You did such a good job!"

You heard her but you hardly understood her, eyes brimming with tears as you slowly turn towards Leon. He takes one look at your wobbly lip and turns to the doctor. "Would you mind giving us a minute?"

The doctor gets the message immediately, collecting her things and the equipment before heading for the door. "Of course! Leave whenever you're ready! I'll get these to the lab and your results should be ready in 2-3 business days!"

The second the door closes behind her, the dam in your eyes finally bursts. You felt stupid for crying. You had no reason to. But the tears and sobs were unrelenting. You clung to Leon and he held you, smoothing your hair.

"It's okay sweetheart. You did so good. and I'm proud of you. That wasn't easy, I know."

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Can y'all tell I hate going to the doctor? :))))

I listened to 'Yes to Heaven' by Lana Del Ray while writing this <3

Hope you enjoyed!!

Requests are open!! <3

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Uh uh uh can i pls get a headcanon style post of finn dealing with his s/o's bipolar or borderline personality disorder? I was really touched by how u did ur autistic s/o kol post and it made me so happy and i feel like ud do other disorders/not "normal" things well bc ppl hardly do things out of the norm for x readers lol. But if its too hard im fine with just finn x autistic!reader djdjjdndnd its ok if u dont vibe with the req u dont have to do im happy with ur usual posts! Thank you!!!! 💚💚💚

Infinitely Ordinary

Finn Mikaelson x BPD!reader Headcanons || Here lies my Masterlist

Warnings: None

A/N: Please listen to Infinitely Ordinary by the Wrecks while you read this. You won't regret it.

Let's get one thing straight, right off the bat.

You're not an attention-seeker. 

It's not that you crave validation or anything, it's just that people have so many expectations of how you should behave. Is it really that big of a crime for you to wish you were a little less bland?

Seriously, you live in a town populated by vampires, doppelgangers, hunters, witches, werewolves, and hybrids. And sure, you're not actually involved with any of that - which is great because you like being alive, actually - but it's just that…

Well, this is your life… and you feel like a side character.

When you were little, you never had a lot - never felt like you did anything exciting -  so you made up a lot of stories. 

You got really, really good at it. Yet, you stopped once you grew up a little bit and realized that everyone is actually pretty ordinary and you don't always have to stand out in order to be seen. You stopped because life was normal.

Until it wasn't.

As things got crazier in Mystic Falls, you started telling stories again. 

You made things up. You lied.  

You did it a lot.

Now, it was never anything bad - never anything harmful. You just wanted to be better. You didn't want to be slow, didn't want to be boring, didn't want to be left behind. You didn't want to be annoying or any inconvenience to… well to anyone.

So you just lied.

And, slowly, quietly, without you even really noticing - things got out of hand.

You didn't just tell lies. You started living them.

You said you liked things and people that you didn't. (You went out drinking with Damon Salvatore, who you absolutely despised, and he would always order you bourbon because you'd said that was your favorite too even though you would honestly rather just have a Coke.) 

You told people that you'd been to places and cities you'd never so much as thought about visiting. (Then you spent hours researching literally everything you could possibly learn about those places in case someone asked you about them. You had to maintain the lie.)

You made up an entire personality - several of them. You became someone you simply weren't.

You went places you didn't want to go. Like the Mikaelson Ball for example.

That was where you met him. 

It was so odd because he noticed you and you weren’t even doing anything. You were just standing at the bar, frowning into the drink Damon had ordered for you. 

“Are the drinks not to your liking?” He just wandered up to you and asked. 

Turns out, that one question was all you needed to break. You started panicking in the middle of the foyer. There were too many people around and too many people you needed to be all at the same time.

You didn’t even know his name but he took you out to the gardens of that mansion and you probably scared him out of his wits when you started screaming. You just had to get it out. Luckily, the Mikaelson’s had soundproof walls.

He just sat next to you with a hand on your shoulder until you finished screaming. 

“Can I tell you something?” You’d asked. “You can’t tell anyone else.”

He just shrugged. “I have no one to tell.”

You ended up spilling the whole bloody story - all the lies you’d ever told and how sick you were of keeping up with them. You told him how trying to keep track of what lies you’d told to who was like riding on a carousel that never stopped spinning. You told him how empty you felt all the time. You told him how you felt like you were slowly going insane.

“I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

And somehow, he’d said exactly what you needed to hear.  

“I don’t think who or what you are is important so much. It's what you do that matters.”

“And what should I do?” 

“Perhaps… tell the lies that make you happy. Then go from there.” 

“Is that what you do?”

He smiled. “Most days.”

Then you went home and that was that. Or so you thought. 

You started seeing him around more often. Every time you saw him, you remembered what he’d said. His words, it turned out, made you rather happy and the changes from there came slowly. You stopped hanging out with people you hated. Stopped accepting things you didn’t want.

You asked him on a date before you asked him his name. The two of you went mini-golfing and it was spectacularly ordinary. 

The two of you go on a lot of walks. They help you clear your head. It gets noisy in there sometimes. Luckily, Finn is a great listener.

You didn’t really stop lying exactly, but you started telling more truths and that was significant you thought. 

His siblings make fun of both of you for being boring. He reassures you that's better than destroying yourself trying to be something you're not.

You didn’t really realize that your mood swings were actually mood swings until you met Kol. The two of you react to each other like thermite reacts to ice. That is to say - you can’t be in the same room for any amount of time without trying to tear one another’s throats out.

“Shut up. Shut up! SHUT UP!!!”

You would deck that kid if not for Finn. He had to pull you out of the room. He looked very concerned. Which was nice but you couldn’t understand why.

“Do you need to go somewhere to calm down?”

“Why? I’m not actually mad. He was just talking too much.”

It was Finn who suggested you go talk to someone. That was when you were diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. Yet, he never judged you for it. 

Provided you stayed away from Kol, your mood swings typically remain confined to less violent emotions. You get really excited over the smallest things and Finn thinks it is the purest thing he’s ever seen.

Both of you fear that the other is going to leave. In fact, when he told you what Esther was planning to do, you nearly lost your mind. 

After spacing out for three hours or so, you made it your mission to throttle that witch. You told her she couldn’t kill him - that you weren’t afraid to kill her again if she tried. And it was true. You really weren’t afraid to kill in order to keep Finn around. 

In hindsight, threatening the woman who created vampirism probably wasn’t a great idea. She threw you off the upstairs balcony. 

Unfortunately for her, Finn saw the whole thing. You were willing to fight for him, whether it be his siblings or his mother. 

He would return the favor. No matter the cost.

Tagging: @yn-ymn-yln@r13mar@rootbeerfaygo @iiskittles16ii @fandomrulesall-blog @dark-night-sky-99@railingsofsorrow@apolloroid@thatweirdoleigh@misswe03@eat-cake@felinegrate@cute-freak27@fayeatheart@archangelslollipop@aonungs-tsahik@sleepneverheardofher@heartbreakgrill@whatsupb18 @enchantedlandcoffee @trikigirl271@dreamingwithrafe@her-violent-delights@witchcraftandgeekness @dreamingwithrafe@acixsracix@susannahmikaelson Comment or DM me if you want to be added to my tag list!

[hrefna-the-raven]

Hi it's me ^^

- Can I get a rlly angsty fic/headcanons for Kelvin

- So reader and Kelvin have like an romantic love for eachother but they never actually tell each other (although they're both aware of it)

- It's like an unsaid romance thing

- When the helicopter comes Kelvin doesn't want to go bc he feels like there's more good to do/more mysteries to solve

- Reader was originally gonna leave on the helicopter but Kelvin convinces them to stay with them

- And originally it goes pretty great, since they have more knowledge on the place

- But it goes wrong and reader gets mortally wounded (like some mutation wounded them in the lab)

- And Kelvin's regretting ever bringing them along and wishing they just went back instead

- Since Kelvin's hearing is still barely there he can't really hear anything but they can read lips well

- And as reader is slumped on a wall or something with Kelvin kneeling to try stop the bleeding they just caress his face and say 'I love you'

- Then they die 😭 (this is so sad lmaoooo)

Hi 👋,

omg what a dark request...😱😱😱 I already felt anxious by reading this and imagining Kelvin's darkest and saddest day in my mind 😅

I was not sure if I should keep the ending this dark but as I still liked the challenge to go against all the happiness I wanna give to Kelvin in my stories, I tried my best to come as close as possible to your request and I hope you like it 😊

Last demon

Words: 1106

Warnings: this might break a few hearts, it most certainly broke mine while writing it 😭

BEWARE! Spoilers of the game's ending ahead

Summary:

Reader and Kelvin head to the cube when the tragedy unfolds....

A heartbreaking sob escaped Kelvin as he dragged your unconscious blood-soaked body through the cave underneath the last bunker. How could he let this happen? How did it come to this? It was all his fault and he doubted if he'd ever be able to live with what he had done. All he wanted was to keep this newly found life with the woman he loved most. You and him survived over a months on this cursed island, killing all sorts of cannibals and mutants, up to the point that your camp was barely attacked anymore and you roamed more or less carefree through the woods on your supply hunts. He knew he had lost his place in the world he came from. After loosing his ability to hear he lost his chance to remain a soldier and what else could he even do besides being the one and only thing he was trained to do? How was he supposed to fight on the battlefield without even hearing the enemy? So, back then, when his hand grabbed your shoulder and he shook his head while you had already set a foot into the helicopter, you gave in and granted him his wish. You took a step back, faintly smiling at Timothy and thanking him for the proposition, explaining that you'd remain with Kelvin on the island, watching the helicopter taking off and disappearing on the horizon. It was a dangerous and rash decision but your heart had taken over, choosing that life with Kelvin instead of the sweet memory of that normal life in the old world. You both had grown too fond of each other as time passed and even though you never specifically spoke of it, after all the gentle kisses and reassuring loving touches, he would consider you to be his girlfriend rather than just a fellow survivor. You became his life, his everything and yet he had failed you. He had failed the life he requested from you and now the only true love he ever knew would die in his arms.

Approaching the end of another eight cycles, the two of you headed towards the bunker on the beach before the countdown hit zero, because, as much as you loved your life in isolation from society with each other, you also loved remaining human. None of you was wearing much armor anymore, a luxury you granted yourselves after killing every mutant you came across and them crossing your paths less and less, shrouding you into a deceitful sense of security. As you entered the last part of the cave, you turned around to Kelvin, a smile spread wide of your lips, giggling gleefully, a hand reaching out to him to pull him into a kiss when, in the blink of an eye a demon emerged from the shadows and sank its teeth in the soft flesh at the side of your waist. The excruciating pain left you gasping for a moment, your mouth hanging open in shock. For a second, Kelvin's blood froze in his veins, paralising him, unable to fully process the scene unfolding in front of him. Your body slumped to the ground, the once bright smile now washed away and replaced by a look of despair. Kelvin screamed from the top of his lungs, the agonising sound of it echoing through the cave as he launched forward and slammed his machete into the demon's head before rushing back to your side. His mind refused to acknowledge the dire consequences of the moment, he kept you from entering that helicopter, catching up on him now. You drew ragged breaths, groaning in pain while Kelvin's shaking hands pressed on the wound in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. A thousand sorry left his trembling lips as he kept the pressure up, the tears flowing down his cheeks, dripping on your pale skin melting into your own streams of tears. The light that shone at the end of the caved felt like a million miles away and helplessness engulfed his mind and body, leaving him to feel like a tiny ant struggling against a merciless storm, cradling you in the dark pit that had become his world and doom. He racked his brain for a solution, desperate to save your life, his gaze falling back to the shimmering light. The golden room! He took off his hoodie, placing it on your wound, wrapping the arms of it around tightly and securing it with a knot. A pained moan was the last sound that left you before you lost consciousness, your body hanging lifelessly in Kevin's arms. He dragged both you down the cave with heavy steps, his eyes fixed on the golden shimmering light of the cube. If he could bring you in before it sealed itself and avoided mutation, he might be able to help you afterwards. As he reached the room, a golden wall slowly started sinking down and he pushed your body inside before he rolled in, barely making it in time before the wall hit the ground.

A throbbing pain seeped through his head and dimensional energy started pulling alternate versions from him before converging back into one. After a moment, the wall in front of him opens up into a portal. He gazed yet again at the outlines of the dark futuristic city, illuminated by lightening striking at the tall skyscrapers while a huge pale glowing moon hanging menacingly in the night sky. His eyes remained on the dark city, a glimmering thought of the faintest most desperate hope forming at the back of his mind. There was no possibility to determine if he'd be able to help you, if you'd survive this without any medical aid on this island as well as there would be no way of knowing if the both of you would survive entering another world. He had to make a choice and he had to choose fast as he felt the energy from the portal fading again. Kelvin was torn, the last time he took a decision it laid to the very darkness that threatened to consume both of you now. Hesitation clawed at him for a few more moments, but the desperation in his heart and his love's cold body in his arms made him resolute. He took a deep breath, grabbed you tight, and fell through the portal into the new world before it disappeared again, leaving nothing but the a puddle of blood in the now empty room made of dirty golden walls, the corpse of the last demon lying in the dust a few feet away.

Happier Kelvin stories:

A light at night (18+)

First kiss

Silent saviour

Relief (18+)

SotF masterlist

[the-radio-demon-blog]

Hmm. I'm glad my Krampus experience was better than yours then then.

Oh yes, I'm sure I'd get along well with Husk and Angel Dust. I'll have to share photos of my little Christmas village during the holidays. Hah...I remember I had a dream once that Angel and I were just watching dumb tik toks and giggling like mad...and he kept calling me Shortcake. Now I want someone to call me that irl. 😅

I'm not typically one for parties. I either stick like glue to one or two people I know...or if there's any kind of pet, I will disappear to hang out with it. I found goats and chickens at a cousin's outdoor wedding once. After dinner, no one saw me again. 😂 That being said, Charlie's costume party actually sounds fun! Maybe I could crash it for a bit this year. Idk if you're aware, but Florida absolutely contains portals to hell, which is why I'm able to pop in from time to time. I suppose because I'm super *not* dead, I just sort of get...popped back home after a bit. Lol. I love dressing up. My last Halloween costume, I was Beetlejuice. Wore a black and white striped dress, my friend did my makeup and we spray painted my hair green. 😁

A lottery! Intriguing. Maybe a bit alarming for us over worlders. Hah. Though, things are pretty bad up here. We'd probably barely notice any chaos a demon visitor would cause! Hah!

I'm very curious, what do you think you would do up here if you won this lottery? 🤔

Oh bad Stanley! We need to have a chat. No eating pets. I support Angel Dust's chasing him off with a bat if he tries to eat Fat Nuggets again. Are you not feeding him enough pedophiles, Alastor??

We're opposite ends on The Shining. I've only watched the movie and not read the book. I know King is brilliant, but I think I got halfway through one his books once. Surprisingly not a huge fan of most horror. But it's only bc...none of it scares me, so I usually feel kind of disappointed? I'll like those kinds of movies if they're well written/have some humor/have a good aesthetic. The art school bitch in me is sated by beautiful camera work and colors. Haha. Oh, recommendation, watch Crimson Peak.

Hahah. Don't worry. I won't be calling you Big Al. Was only teasing. I don't like it either. Hah.

No offense taken at the drunk comments. I suppose it hasn't been a bad experience for me since I've never been so drunk I wasn't unaware of what I was doing. I used to go to bars a lot (had a lot of musician friends then...I've been to a frankly obscene number of open mics) so I feel you on being subjected to obnoxious inebriated people. I generally drank a coke...or if I was feeling particularly feisty...a Shirley Temple. 🤣 You'd be amazed the side eye and teasing I'd get for that order. Never cared, those things are tasty!

I promise to not call you the c word again. Though, if you piss me off, I will definitely call you the *other* c-word. Heh. Will just settle on calling you dapper, eh? It's an excellent and underused word in modern times.

Appreciate your discretion and care in the imaginary unwanted drunk cuddle scenario. Lol. That is, dare I say it, rather sweet. You are surprising!

I also quite enjoy our conversations, so thank you! 😊

Work was alright on Friday (I left early for another baseball game so that helped, lol). I was training a new hire all day. He's great; laughs at my jokes (v important), is COMPETENT. He gave me candy! PLEASE DON'T QUIT I scream internally.

Let's see...I have a sort of a joke for you. Hopefully you appreciate a nerdy joke like I do.

oh shit - i was time travelling and accidentally killed an ancient italian. doesn’t matter tho everyone was killing each other, when in Reme do as the Remans

And for today's photo I present this chaos table covered in several dozen Halloween decorations. They're here until I get them all set up nicely, hopefully this weekend.

https://imgur.com/a/GEn1kDX

I really need to think of a song rec again. I haven't seen any on your tumblr for a while...*sad face*

I'm off to pick up a werewolf! I will not be elaborating.

After while, crocodile 🐊

I can imagine Angel Dust doing something of the like. At least he gave you a somehow respectful nickname: Shortcakes. Compared to Smiles.

Hah, well you and I are very different. I would rather spend time with people than pets. However I suppose to each their own. People entertain me far more, pets are simply loving. Oh well, I hope your cousin's did leave some tempting animals to play with. It was on them that you didn't return to dinner. Hah!

Yes, Charlie's costume parties are always fun. Oh well, I would love if you could pay the hotel a visit! Charlie would absolutely not mind if you showed up for a Halloween party! We've had an unfortunate amount of Floridians accidently end up in Hell and it usually ends badly for them. Hah, well, thank goodness you haven't run into our rather lively denizens! Beetlejuice? My, that's a rather fun outfit!

If I won the lottery? I'm sure I would wreck some havoc on New Orleans for the sake of it and take a canoe out on the Bayou. Terrify a few loitering teenagers. I'm not quite sure if I am being honest what I would do.

I am feeding Stanley plenty of pedophiles! It seems he has an insatiable appetite and he seems to crave beloved pets. KeeKee is far smarter than the pig to stay out of Stanley's way. I can arrange a chat between you and him if you so desire.

I am not a big fan of movies but sure, I'll give it a shot when I happen upon a chance. Hmm...none of it scares you? Interesting. I am personally not one to be scared of silly movies or books however I did find myself deeply invested in the fate of the characters. In the Shining book if I recall correctly, the father cared far more about his family in the book than in the movie where he was a raging horrible maniac. I could go on about it but I shall end it here.

Hmm...it wasn't a bad experience to be out of control of your own body? That is personally not something I would enjoy but to each their own, dear. I'm not one for Shirley Temples but I'm sure its tasty for you!

Yes, I would prefer to be called dapper. I've never been one to love cuss words but they surely have their place and time.

Why is it surprising? It's the only rightful thing to do. I know quite a quite a few people that would disgustingly take advantage of a situation like that, unfortunately. Common human decency is truly dead.

Yes, its always important to have a competent coworker. There's a surprising lack of that in the working world. He gave you candy? My, my. Yes, I do hope he doesn't quit either.

Hah! That's an absolutely delightful joke, dear!

Oh my, that is quite a lot of Halloween decorations! My mother would have a stroke if you saw it. Charlie I'm sure would be absolutely ecstatic! I wish you luck.

See you later, my dear, alligator!

PS: As much as I do enjoy our conversations, could you perhaps make your letters a bit shorter?

[cosmickaz]

couple days ago, I read a fic with Wrecker going crazy bc Reader was wearing yoga pants and i would like to raise you this: the exact opposite.

Wrecker seeing you in the most worn-out, washed-out, painted-with-stains-of-unclear-origins, definitely not fitting you correctly, “just good enough for the corner store down the road but only when it’s dark out and you don’t have to worry about running into anyone you know”-clothes and suddenly he’s having a hard time breathing and his hands are tingling with the urge to grab you. Mans almost pops a boner right then and there and he has to stop himself from thinking too much about what it means because he never would have thought someone like you could feel this comfortable around someone like him. It’s like he just realized you actually feel at home around him and his brothers and now he has to take a minute to calm down and go sit with his feelings a little before continuing with the program. 

Between your armor pieces, your regular training clothes and the occasional flash of bare skin when you got injured, not to mention a shared living space, there really wasnt all too much you guys havent seen of each other. 

Of course, Wrecker hadn't looked. Well, he had, at first, really couldn't have helped it, but it was always so fleeting and the context had never been even remotely sensual, so neither of you had payed it any mind. Until one day, he did.

It had snuck up on him, you had snuck up on him so quickly, he never stood a chance.

He might have been used to seeing you in your armor, but the sight of you without them had his chest tightening and his palms sweating.

You looked so.. comfortable.

It wasn't the civilian clothing he'd seen you in before, the one you wore when you needed to blend in, or move with the mobility of lighter materials. It wasn't even the few pieces you'd shown Omega when she had asked you about your life before the war. You pulled them out of your pack and pointed out all the details of the design, conjuring up memories and the idea of the person you had been before. Wrecker had liked those, he listened to your stories and wondered how a bunch of clothes could say so much about the person wearing them. You had laughed and said how the markings on their armor was kind of the clone-version of fashion and all he could do was stare at you and try not to let his mouth hang open.

The clothes you were wearing now didn't have any notable designs on them. They didn't even fit you properly. The shirt was loose and the pants a tad too long and it was clear that none of the pieces were designed with any real purpose in mind. To someone like himself, a clone, that idea was entirely unfamiliar.

It hit him then, the thought that somehow, somewhere along the line, you’d made this place your home.

[bastardtrait]

great big get 2 know me post

i promise everyone that has tagged me in things that i did not ignore them! thanks for tagging me friends <3 love u all and if anyone sees this and wants to do it, please, use this post an excuse

5 songs i actually listen to - tagged by @airbussy-a330!

when you get this, you have to write down 5 songs you actually listen to and post them. then send this (ask or tag) to 10 cool people

アイド/ルIdol - YOASOBI

Do not touch - MISAMO

小幸运/A little happiness - Hebe Tien

死ぬのがいいわ/Alright with dying - Fujii Kaze

Replay - Iyaz (I know it's a meme but it's also a banger ok)

people you'd like to get to know better - tagged bt @thegloomiestwhim and @beebeesiims!

last song: Do not touch - MISAMO

favourite colour: yellow, as it's been for the last couple years!

currently watching: Demon Slayer but idk if I'll keep going lol...

last movie: Scooby Doo on Zombie Island LOL

currently reading: The Colour Purple by Alice Walker

sweet/spicy/savoury: savoury

last thing I googled: the business hours of a restaurant nearby

current obsession: nothing, I think

currently working on: editing Nova gen 6 and playing gen 7

feelings tag, sims edition - I am borrowing this from @akitasimblr bc it was just so interesting to think about.

"The boss of EA is in front of you asking for one statement about The Sims before he goes away and makes TS5. What do you say to him?"

was Journey to Batuu worth it you motherfucker?

"Do your Sims know you as their Sim God or are you the invisible deity to them?"

I mean I occasionally break the 4th wall and sometimes my sims seem to be aware that they are sims. but if I'm being serious about it then I'm really just an impartial camera in their lives. a detached third party. like even what I write for the Lucky stories are determined by dice rolls and not me lol so. I don't think of myself as a deity.

"How do you see yourself connected to your Sims? Do those of you who say you love them, really mean this? How deep is your game?"

well, seeing as I'm still playing these games and I'm still largely enjoying them, yeah I'm pretty connected to them. although if TS5 really is live service or whatever then I'm really not going to play it lol.

I think of some sims I've had, some of their stories and their lives, and yeah I get a lil bit emo. the same goes for my friends' sims! I miss them too. as for depth...I mean I dunno it's probably not all that deep for me. I think the sims is just a toy. I don't necessarily want too much of real life to seep into it bc real life sucks ass.

"What’s your Sims Secret? Is there something going on in your game that none of your screenshots will ever tell us? WHO IS LOCKED IN YOUR BASEMENT? What are those secret Sims doing behind closed doors?"

girl I post my sims fucking, there is nothing secret going on there lmfao. sometimes I revert to my TS1 days and pick sims that piss me off and put them in Hazardous Situations. I'm looking at you knox greenburg.

"Can we learn anything from our Sims to take away for our real lives? And/or can you give us an example of how The Sims has influenced you outside of gaming?"

this is MILDLY ironic but also kinda not: you know how in TS4 sims' moods change on the flip of a dime and they go through it multiple times a day? even bad moodlets have an end to them, and at the end of it your sim is just ... Fine. it'll be alright.

[saturnskyline]

temptation tuesday

rules: share something about an idea you have/something that's speaking to you/an au you'd like to see and are considering writing/etc. etc. Basically anything that is tempting you away from your current wips!

tagged by @lu-sn, thank you so much!! still in awe that we're mutuals tbh, you're the coolest <3

well.... the question is, what is NOT tempting me away from my current wips 🥲 apologies to anyone who has kept up with my snippet posting bc none of those are remotely close to done yet fjdkskfjs. for starters, my main wips from before were the vegaspete oneshot ("when i look deep down") and lita polycule shenanigans (as yet untitled). now, i have several more ideas that are circulating and i have no idea where i'm going with ANY of them, let alone the actual wips 😭 😭 anyway here's the shortlist eh oh el

vegaspete watersports of all things ??? i'm surprised too, this coming from a person who literally has never attempted smut ever and now i'm suddenly tempted to try THIS 💀 no title yet, but i do know that if this gets finished, there will be sexy gaslighting involved (both a threat and a promise)

drugged vegaspete sex where pete gets drugged as part of an earlier negotiation. SMUT AGAIN I KNOW. LITERALLY WHERE DID THIS COME FROM. anyway, if that even goes well, the working title is "i put your love on and sank into the glow" from a very lovely vegaspete coded song <3

had a thought recently (which i think i've read in fics before) about vegas having a garden and i just MAY have to write it smh. anywayyy most important part is he feeds pete with it and i think that's beautiful

toddblack something. very vague but i want biting and kissing for them so that's the starting point 🥰

3 will be free brainrot. consuming me always, to the point of me wanting to not only try smut but write sex for three people 😶 although i guess if i actually go through with lita there's four involved there sooooo. basically i guess i'm looking to try writing new things hehe

winteam !!!! who knows lol but they are certainly speaking to me and i have a google doc open there so that's something

so yeah, those are the current brain worms! hopefully i can finish at least one of them in the near future, or i may be in danger of losing my mind :D enough from me though, better tag some other folks @pitchercries @mandaloresson @m-a-w-a @lady-guts @shubaka in case you're interested ❤️❤️

[gracelesslady23]

helloo :)) i'm working on one of your fest prompts but i'd like to stay anon until the reveals for it to be a surprise.

i have a small question - you did not specify this in the prompt, and i have several ideas of my own that i could use, but i wanted to ask you anyway in case you had anything specific in mind that you're imagining and/or like reading.

in a setting where j/s are highschool sweethearts and date up until after the graduation, what would be their reasons for breaking up? i feel like it would have to be something big, i don't think the divide of sirius wanting to get out of the small town vs james wanting to stay close to his parents would be enough to force them apart, there would have to be something p major on top of that that went down and led to the breakup. it's just so hard for me to imagine something big enough to drive them apart like that after so many years together without involving something super major like a third person getting in the middle (whether it's romantic, like lily/remus or walburga/someone else stepping in and meddling w it on top of things that they were already having disagreements on), but i'm not sure if that's something you'd like.... i do think that at 18 they would probably be much more hotheaded and easily explosive than later when they reconnect in adulthood, but still, any of the usual "highschool sweethearts breakup" tropes just,,,, dont sit well with them for me bc i can't see them having that type of "classic" miscommunication, yknow?

anyway sorry for the rant 🙏🙏🙏 ill go now to actually get some writing done ehehehe

Hi!! Thanks so much for reaching out and especially for selecting my prompt! I cannot tell you how excited I am to get to read it!!

That is such an interesting question and I completely agree that something big would need to occur to have them break up and lose contact (in fact I completely agree with all your analysis teenage S&J being hotheaded and easily explosive – yes please!!). I’m going to preface my response by saying, both the ideas you’ve included here (Walburga interference or alternative romance coming on the scene) sound really good and I’d be so happy to see it go in either of those directions.

I’ve written below the cut the direction I would’ve taken it had I gotten around to writing it (instead of prompting it haha), but feel free to pick and choose on the bits that work for you, or ignore it, if none of it does 😊

Ok so the way I saw it going was that the wanting to stay vs wanting to leave divide was like a symptom of the bigger issues between them and the divergence in the lives they wanted to lead. On one side, James wants to get married and have a bunch of kids (probs saw himself adopting/using a surrogate once he got with Sirius) and he wants to do it young so his parents would still be around for those milestones and enjoy being grandparents to a gaggle of kids (even though E&F never put it on him, J was always aware that they wanted more kids than just him and for whatever reason (age, illness etc.) could only have the one, so he wants to give them grandkids). Whereas Sirius at 18, still screwed up by his own unhappy childhood/homelife, is not sure he ever wants to get married or have kids and he certainly doesn’t want it anytime soon, what he wants right now is to do big things and explore the world, not to be tied down, and even though he loves James, he is afraid that getting married etc will change things between them and he doesn’t want to become like his parents/older cousins etc. And still, I don’t think this would be a dealbreaker, but it would be a source of tension between them.

With Sirius leaving for the city after graduation, I can see them having a kind of “soft breakup” with every intention of getting back together, or deciding to do long distance. Either way, they spend the first several months being in constant contact via phone/text (depending on the era) and travelling back and forth on weekends to see each other. But with the distance, the divide between them only grows. Sirius is miserable without James, but he’s still hoping James will see the light and join him in the city, so he puts on a bit of a show: telling James about all the exciting things he’s doing, all the opportunities he has, how interesting his classes are, and the interesting people he is meeting/parties he’s attending. And James is jealous… he loves his parents’ and his town, but he is already bored out of his mind without Sirius, his small town job/tertiary education cannot keep him intellectually stimulated and he feels like he is missing out, and not only that, but for the first time he feels insecure about their relationship and worried that Sirius is growing out of him and might find someone more interesting/exciting to be with.

And so while things are getting really rocky, James accidentally getting Lily pregnant (I’d probably have them in the “soft breakup phase” before this happens, like planning to get back together after things calm down, but not officially together). Maybe Sirius is supposed to come home a certain weekend but can’t for whatever reason, so James gets blind drunk with Lily and they sleep together without protection and its done.

Sirius finds out and is absolutely heartbroken, but thinks that this is James getting everything he’s ever wanted (and everything Sirius couldn’t give him) so he doesn’t fight for their relationship and can't really stomach the thought of keeping in contact while James has a happy family with someone else. James devastated and racked with guilt about the whole thing, and when Sirius doesn’t fight for their relationship, James doesn’t feel like he can either because he feels that he’s betrayed Sirius and if Sirius doesn’t want to be with him or talk to him anymore its far enough.

Anyway as I said that’s just the direction I thought of taking it in. Apologies for how long this was, lol, I can never keep it short when it comes to S/J. Hope it was somewhat helpful, but as I said before feel free to take from that whatever inspiration works for you and discard anything that doesn’t 😊

Happy writing!! I am so excited to read it!!

[moltara]

I hope this is ok to ask, how did you learn anatomy? I’m still struggling and yours looks awesome. Are there any specific resources you used while learning ?

hello!! yes this is totally ok to ask, i am always happy to share any resources i might have handy! lmk if you have any questions :3

i attribute a lot of the anatomy knowledge i have from all the life drawing courses i took in college! i understand that this. is not really all that helpful however bc i know that college is super expensive and not the best option for a lot of people.

not to mention a lot of the actual resources i used in college were lost to time (either because i only rented the textbooks, sold them after the fact or i lost access to them) i also was a lazy student and didnt actually read 90% of my textbooks whoops

BUT. i can offer this! if you know of any local studios or museums around you that hold in-person life drawing sessions, definitely look into attending those! i actually work at a small art museum that offers them weekly at $25 per session for the general public.

if those aren't available to you, i know that there are websites online that serve the same purpose!

line of action

adorkastock

are two such websites i can name off the top of my head! they offer in-website timers you can adjust to mimic how a life drawing session works. start out with 30 second or 1 minute gesture sketches to warm up, and then ease into longer 20-30 minute drawings when you feel ready.

i also have some resources uploaded to google drive, including some notes from a constructive human anatomy course i took in college!

i also highly recommend michel lauricella's MORPHO series, which you can find scanned in its entirety here! (or you can purchase the physical books on amazon. they're super portable and affordable and well worth the investment imo!)

the way i was taught anatomy was very comprehensive and from the inside out. in many of my classes, the professors emphasized getting to know how the body works in order to improve your work. i can also look into finding better resources about this too! or if there are none, i am not opposed to making my own!

if you ever need more guided and personalized feedback, my inbox is always open! feel free to send me any artwork you'd like to hear some input on! i can also offer more in-depth advice on how to effectively study and reference models as you draw :> (artistic nudity cw - not to toot my own horn but i would like to think i'm pretty good at it!)

[lokisprettygirl]

ehehehehe sorry in advanced and here are my thought on LMTLY

damn it. i keep saying that lately with the past few chapters but really just damn it. damn it loki, i feel bad for you. I know you'd rather not be pitied because it shows your vulnerability but darling, come on. You had a fucked up life, i know but that isnt excuse to push people away. i know there are layers deeper than the earths crust of insecurities and fears you have but darling, please let someone tell them how they feel and how they can at least help you because thats what she doing, she trying to help you get past all that shitty trauma but your not even letting her. i know its hard to even realize that she trying to help but calm down, please try to and let her explain it bc just like with birdy, all the trauma that your keeping, all the fucked up shit you keep within yourself, one day its going too be too much and i know you hate sharing or being soft bc it makes you seem week and that what you were raised to believe but darling, please listen to her and let her help you.

those walls you have up have to come down, even just a bit if you want this relationship to progress. being vulnerable doesnt make you weak, if not it makes you stronger opening up to someone, especially the one you love. This sick need to be hurt as its the only way you only truly feel, it is sick darling but hopefully y/n is there to help you understand that there are better and something so much better past that. that you dont even have to feel pain to feel something

now eheheh sorry, i dunno why i tend to go into conversation or speak as if im actually talking to loki but it just happens eheheh. sorry not the next few bits are notes from where i continue to read when they get back from the party, i dunno why but for some reason i feel sort of compelled to make an essay or something because from what i read frpm this morning, this is really bloody good and though you might not have enjoyed writing this, this is truly one of the most necessary and most beautiful ones you've written for this story because it really just shows how comlicatedly fucked up his mind is and how you just wrote it is a bloody damn good way of making us understand.amyway i love this chapter and hers what i took note of whilst i read it again. ehehhe i again apologize though cuz i seem to be making a bloody book on how i think this goes, eheheh sorry….😅

now how closed off he is understandable considering his background but she went through the same shit in some way,of all the people you can open up to luv, she the one

the moments of ignorant bliss before the shit is often cruel dont yah think. they were so happy now, this… how their dealing with it is very different now isnt it, he sort of tries to push everything down and tries to forget it by distracting himself, first making him destructive with the glass then the timing of the call was just perfect enough to destract him to focus on your work. while she's in her room trying to process what she feels via the tears.

these are just my interpritations of what i read, how you choose to see them is how you truly do and im just trying my best to make sense of it all

darling your not a bloody monster so stop calling yourself that please, i beg of you stop it. none of what you did was per your own accord, you were forced to and i know that it doesnt take away the guilt of being the one that still hurt people but darling you have to learn to get past these and start fresh bc… only good things would come out of something new and good, choose to do so and to move on with her help, all good things would come. I promise. Isnt that right writer? he's still trying to protect her even after all this time… (always..😐) and she needs to understand that no matter what happens between them, he always will. right? Well, I believe in him enough to trust him to do so

her feelings are justified but i dont like how she using the night before against him.

their both fucked up i get that but even so, he's still protecting her and for her to think that he'd be that person, they dont know each other enough in that way because of their shit but the way their both hurting just hurts me now…

darling thats just the thing, we have to or you have to because… you just have to for things to work out because neither of you will be happy if you keep something like that burried so deep wothin you.

"But what if I want to share the baggage loki, what if I want to be the part of that pain that you feel all the time? What if I want to be someone you could talk to?"

seee, her saying thiss. i agree with. what if i and her or we want to share that baggage because we love you enough to help you with that. we love you wnough that we want to help you carry, unpack that baggage because we love you. understand that damn it.

that line seriously has me questioning my choices in men. do i want the emotionally fucked up one or the boring normal dude? ehehhe but i want the fucked up one though. i want someone i can take care of and maybe that says something about me but i want that. thats what these stories, especially yours bring. the sense of helping someone even in some weird way, us helping then, even just in our mind is helping us and i just want to thank you for that.

how mature she is compared to the her a few chapters ago just shows how much this relationship is important for both of them. she maturing, realizing that okay maybe you need to let this out bc it isnt healthy but his insecurity is that he the one that needs to go. he makes his insecureties and fears into one and thinks that it defines him or something but it just doesnt. hes been tought that the most horrible things about him define who he is and that hinders any and all relationship he has. any time someone shitty messes up his mind (like that bitch jolene, dont even get me started on her) he closes himself of even more bc he was giving himself to her (jolene, again regretfully) but as he was opening up she couldnt handle him and just fuck you bitch, you and that fucker odin ruined him. it isnt fair. they left him as he is without any help or comfort and now y/n is left to pick up the pieces. fuckin shit come onnn

but i want to know and see those stupid ugly parts of you you moron (sorry…) but what if she doesnt run

now imgonna rage bc that bitch jolene is ruining the moment😡🤬 FUCKIN SHIT YOU BITCH YOU RUINED THE MOMENT. YOUR IN ON IT WITH THOR YOU FUCKER DONT ACT LIKE YOU ARENT YOU SHITTY…..

sorry for that ehehhe anyway, this got on longer, wayy longer that expected and its still isnt enough though. i just wish i could give you my brain (now that i think about it ew) or the scene or feeling and thoughts i was going through as i was reading this. this was REALLLY GOOODDD. please never stop with your wonder, this creativity is somethings else entirely.

i again apologize (you must be sick of the number of time i have) for the length this has gone on too. eheheh i cant help but feel like a bother because i feel like i've continually just repeated myself over and over and i wonder if i even made any sense eheheh. the fact that you're at this part show that you has to wndure that horrific mess that is my mind ehehhe

all i'll say now is that chapter was wonderful, i wish i could have gone on in this with it fresh but i reread once i got home and still as... its just got layers and i find that wonderfully brilliant.

im stopping myself from saying anything further

from your lovely 😊❤️💜💙💚💛🖤😊

-T

Me: upset and crying because of something work related and thinking perfect distraction doesn't exist.

Meanwhile I have this in my ask box waiting for me

Thank youuuuuu 🥺❤️

Okay coming back to this

The biggest issue he have in life is himself, he hates himself and he sees the world in the same way, just because he hates himself and Jolene who claimed to love him but abandoned him, he thinks everyone is going to do the same thing.

With y/n , his beacon of light and reason to breathe, his fears intensifies because she's honestly his last will to move forward and keep going, he's not ready to lose her at any cost and he thinks keeping her in dark would be much better than sharing with her.

If I talk about y/n in this fic she needs to be patient with him, it's been three days like girl just wants to love him but like chillll 😂 Give him some time and maybe he'll change his ways, he did open up a little to Jolene, just a little and she dropped him like a hot potato so his fear isn't just about himself but it's toppled with his abandonment issue and all she needs to do is stay by his side for now.

I think I relate with wanting to be with someone who's emotionally tormented a bit because I'm that way and I don't think I can ever be with someone who's not on the same emotional maturity level as me, like I can't possibly explain myself to a happy go lucky sort of guy who's always happy, I don't know what that says about me. Jolene in this fic also had that "I can fix him" syndrome which obviously didn't work for her 😂

Thank you for such an analysis, you're pretty astute about most of his feelings and fears in this fic my dear and like I have said a million times I absolutely love to hear from you always so never stop . Just you thinking that I'm a good writer or the fact that you wrote all this because of my story means more to me than you can imagine. Love youu 🥹💚

[watsonmj]

2022 YEAR IN REVIEW

tagged: @abc2411 | @seek--rest | @bluepinstripes <3

1. number of stories posted to ao3

27 +/- 2 bc i updated 2 fics that i started last year buuuuuut i reached over 100 works on ao3 !!!! :D

2. word count posted for this year

101,410 (technically More bc i wrote ofic but that is obviously. not posted anywhere)

3. fandoms i wrote for

marvel, dc, pjo, the atlas series, soc, trc/tdt, hp, goncharov

4. pairings

petermj, petergwen, percabeth, libbynico, kanej, bluesey, blue/adam, clois, gonchandrey, jily

5. stories with the most

kudos: accidental heroism (the batman) 3,357 bookmarks: the jones-watson-parkers (spider-man) 844 but since that was posted last year it’s technically accidental heroism again w 640 comment threads: yet again… the jones-watson-parkers with 133 but it is still accidental heroism with 47

6. work i'm most proud of (and why)

ummmm idk actually the work im most proud of is my ofic theo and i cannot Show that to u anyway it’s bc i have never rly fully revised smth like. overhauled it n all that bc i finally Understood theo’s character and it was such a RUSH to work on her fr and ive produced some of my Best Writing To Date!!! for fic tho uh??!??!?!? im pretty proud of most fic ive written this year bc i have tried rly hard ok 😭 usually i can pinpoint a single fic but i think ive written consistently well ???

7. work i'm least proud of (and why)

a home for two (spidey) mostly because i did Not vibe writing it i was literally pulling teeth trying to finish it but ppl seem to like it idk

8. share or describe a favorite review you received

9. a time when writing was really, really hard

uh not for fic but i was tearing my hair out writing theo partially because of the content and partially because it is quite literally Difficult to write what’s perfect in your head and i haven’t even written theo to my own standards ngl

10. a scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

the entirety of final goodbye because. Well. who knew i would be writing goncharov fic actually who knew goncharov would even exist fr but in terms of spidey ... phantom bc. like. well i did not expect to write that At All and i didn't expect it to be That Long (relatively in my taste)

11. a favorite excerpt of your writing

Here’s the thing about loss: sometimes you grow up and around a person, fitting and stretching and expanding to add them to the patchwork of yourself, and when they leave, there’s a scar between both bodies. One here, one gone. An open wound. It’s surprising how much time you can spend with someone and still come out the other end empty-handed. (slip of reality | spidey)

12. how did you grow as a writer this year

oh i have learned to appreciate writing first person bc of theo <3 and writing a little longer things bc i am a serial 1-2k oneshotter and i have Exceeded that a bit

13. how do you hope to grow next year

perhaps i will Finally finish a multichapter fic jesus christ

14. who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer, beta, cheerleader, etc)

there needs to be an @fnh button or smth at this point

15. anything from your real life show up in your writing this year

none that i can point out at the top of my head ! well. except for theo 🧍🏻‍♀️ i gave her too many lysisms which is concerning considering everything wrong w her n her chronic patheticness

16: any new wisdom you can share with other writers

new wisdom??? god not rly but here is some OLD wisdom that i feel like other writers should always listen to… read MORE BOOKS!!!!!!!!!!

17: any projects you're looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year

working on the Novel™ n also attempting to finish all these wips i have left in the grave

18. tag some writers whose answers you'd like to read

LITERALLY ANY OF YOU. IF U SEE THIS UR TAGGED <3

[saintmouthed]

dtcfdp chapter 3 (author commentary)

I fear it is time to Reread dtcfdp Again and I'm going to be so annoying about it, actually. Anyway I'm gonna basically reread my own fic and liveblog the experience. Chapter 3 commentary starts under the cut!

chapter 1 commentary here

chapter 2 commentary here

"It wasn’t until he got out of the shower that he realized somehow he’d made it home with Ange’s jacket."

Right off the bat this made me smile so big. Yes... his jacket... I had NO motivation to have R take Enjolras's jacket... none at all

Hey, sweetheart, how are you feeling today? Ange.

oh my OWN heart jumped at sweetheart this time around.

That sounds like something someone just trying to make me feel better would say. R. I wouldn’t lie to you, I’m being honest. But, is it working? Ange. Grantaire thinks about this. A little. R.

they make me SICK (in the best way)

“What, you think I don’t have a key to this place?” That’s not something that had ever occurred to Grantaire. “Oh.” He says, after a thoughtful moment. Éponine laughs at him. “Bossuet let me in before he went to class, dipshit.”

LMAO this is so fucking funny I completely forgot about this. I don't reread this chapter often so this is like experiencing a whole new fic. Though I don't remember why I don't reread this chapter often? Is it the trivia one? that might be why. More on that later if it is the trivia one.

“Well…” Joly, at least, looks a little abashed. “It might have been…Enjolras?” “Enjolras?” Éponine gasps, before bursting into laughter. “Are you fucking kidding?” God, Grantaire is completely lost. “You know this guy?” “Yeah.” She waves a dismissive hand, as if he has any idea what she’s talking about. “We’ve met, obviously, and I went to a few meetings. Joly, are you serious?”

HOW DID I FORGET ABOUT THIS ADFASDFJ... "are you fucking kidding" it was so funny having everyone be like 'oh yeah grantaire you'd HATE enjolras' meanwhile grantaire is already sickening in love with him

OH MY GOD IT'S THE ROPE BITE NIGHT CHAPTER...

if you haven't read the Enjolras ficlet I wrote for this one or the Jehan ficlet... you should

aw... Grantaire learning to tie a futomomo... me too buddy

Ange rolls his eyes. “I trust you haven’t traumatized one of our newest members yet, Jehan?” “I leave frightening the newbies to you, my dear, that’s usually your area of expertise.” Grantaire wonders which one of them picked up the casual pet names first.

I'm OBSESSED WITH THEM

wow props to past me for writing that rope demo so beautifully damn

oh god... it IS the trivia one

I've seen the rope twist one before IRL it IS mean

CHEERS I DO LOVE A ZIPPER THOUGH

“How would you drop a raw egg from a height onto a concrete floor without cracking it?” Ange asks, blithely ignoring R’s commentary. “You…can’t?” “It takes more than an egg to crack a concrete floor, darling.”

an anon sent me this one back in the day!!! I love this... and I loved reading about the first zipper getting ripped off tbh.

the thing I don't like about the trivia chapter is that it's another of those threads I never followed through bc there was simply SO MUCH going on in this fic. And the Gutenberg question makes me cringe, but that's another story LMAO.

THE ROPE AS A FLOGGER WHO CHEERED. I saw this in a video once and it made me feel insane.

Grantaire either A. shrieks or B. blacks out (though there is that last possibility C. which is both)

Real as fuck grantaire

WAIT FUCK IS THIS THE PHONE NUMBER everybody hang on

FUCK

IT IS

freddyfromnicarlycheering.gif

“It’s…” Ange hesitates on the last character, felt tip of the pen stilling on Grantaire’s skin for a brief moment before he follows through. “My phone number.”

OH MY GOD

“I mean, it’s—it’s still nothing. I mean, not nothing, it’s definitely, uh, something.”

sure is !!!

this chapter was good actually idk why I tend to skip it

[raplinesmoon]

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.

Jewel, reading this was so fun! I know its 19k, but it truly felt like time was flying by with how entertaining this was. I'm a big fan of contemporary romance novels and the amount of crack in here definitely made me think of some of my favorites!

To start off with, the whole first scene with Hoseok and Namjoon had me so entertained, I was fighting back laughter. Just the juxtaposition between their food habits alone was so fun, and Namjoon being the tough love vegan akdkdksks I've never imagined him in that role but he fits it pretty well actually (side note: shouldn't Namjoon be a carnivore bc he loves plants so much, it would hurt him to eat them? Idk). The humor in your writing is so good, and the quips are super smart, it reminds me of a published author!

I also loved this characterization of Hoseok! It really turned the billionaire stereotype on its head. Instead of Hoseok being this suave, smooth person, he's awkward and loves junk food and is panicked by hot people (same!). It made him so fun to read bc not only can he buy you a Birkin, but he's fun to troll (and puts endless smiles on your face because isn't that what Hobi does?!)

The dynamic between him and OC was so easygoing, I loved it! In some ways, I really enjoyed this a lot because it felt like their relationship just fell into place so naturally. Like they've known each other for so long, they've both thought about each other romantically before, and falling in love for them wasn't a whole revelation, but more like a culmination of their entire friendship. Even though they did have their moments of panic, it was nice to just see them accept their feelings for each other instead of agonizing over it! And we did get moments of tenderness between them - like Hoseok supporting OC through her relationship with her mother.

Now, onto my favorite part of the fic! Which is the side characters?! Seriously, I've never been so endeared by a secondary pairing in a fic forever and I'm a second lead kdrama girlie. Taegi were everything in this fic - I loved their entire dynamic, with Tae being the outgoing one and Yoongi just refusing to say a fucking word until the end? Genius. Their own love story and the way they were with each other had my heart all warm and fuzzy and they genuinely felt like random people you'd meet but become close to bc of how welcoming their characterization was. And Seokjin being the weird cult leader? I'm here for it, because he was honestly asking the right questions (are eyebrows facial hair? i wanna know).

This was such a fun ride, and even though the plot is different, definitely reminded me of Forgetting Sarah Marshall or The Unhoneymooners! Thank you for writing!

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. ♡

[havocskies]

hi u can do vance hopper x shy male reader who loves reading horror books and drawing gore horror stuff

THIEF | VANCE HOPPER X MALE READER

ofc i can !! i love this sm actually omg, thank you for requesting !!! as a shy horror nerd and someone who loves drawing this will be so easy to write i think

also i know requests are getting done very slowly it's bc i'm trying to work on all of them n most of them are fics 😭 i have stuff goin on irl too </33 also this is not proofread unfortunately 🫶

TWs: none

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

"What are you drawing?"

As a particularly familiar voice greets your ears you look up, your attention stolen away from your sketchbook. It was your boyfriend who was currently hanging out with you. At the moment he seemed to be watching you draw, looming over your shoulder. In any other circumstance this would likely seem intimidating but he was your boyfriend no matter how scary he accidentally was sometimes.

"A killer from this one new horror movie I saw - Texas Chainsaw Massacre I think? It's pretty cool. I'm drawing Nubbins, the weird hitchhiker dude." You explain, the tips of your mouth being pulled into a careful smile. You didn't often talk this much about your drawings but you knew Vance was genuinely curious, even if he had no idea what you were drawing half the time. He liked horror movies but he wasn't an avid fan like you were. Plus you liked books more than movies, and books weren't really Vance's thing.

"Oh, I heard about that I think. I thought you liked books though?" Vance questioned, watching the careful movements of your pencil on paper with interest. His question made you giggle a little which earned you a small glare in return.

"I do, it just seemed interesting. I can still watch movies, y'know. I did draw Carrie earlier today, though. The girl from that one book by Steven King? She was bullied a lot and got pigs blood dumped on her at prom, went absolutely crazy?" You tried your best to explain the book in hopes your boyfriend would understand but he simply stared blankly, his mouth pushed into a frown. You tried your best not to giggle but Vance looked so much less intimidating while he was confused you couldn't help but find it a little cute.

He didn't find it as amusing as you did. Instead he huffed and rolled his eyes. "I'm not a nerd like you, I don't read every book that I see." He shot back despite nothing being said in the first place.

"I think you'd actually like reading. If you weren't on that pinball machine all day, I mean. I swear you like it more than me." You joke. This seems to spark some amusement in Vance. He laughs, and you laugh in return. Even so, he's quick to defend himself as always.

"I do not! You might as well love your books more, you stare at them more than you stare at me." He playfully pushes your shoulder which may have been a little too hard but you know he means nothing by it. You decide to drop the subject and turn the page to the drawing of Carrie you had finished before Vance came over. It was the scene where Carrie was dying at the end and Sue found her. You liked that scene a lot, it was nice to know Carrie died knowing Sue didn't hate her.

Vance stares at the drawing, his brows furrowed. "What's going on in it?" Oh. You had forgotten he wasn't aware.

"Carrie, the one dying, is kind of reading Sue's mind before she dies. She finds out Sue didn't actually hate her and didn't know what was going to happen at prom. I just like the scene, I don't know." You shrug, dismissing everything else you'd like to say about the book. While you're practically obsessed with it you know Vance doesn't really care for books at all, so you decide not to bore him about it. To your surprise he inquires more about it, anyway.

"What's the rest of the book about?" He seems genuinely interested, his gaze fixed on the drawing as he stares at every part, every detail. You hesitate for a second before answering briefly.

"This girl, like 17 or 18 I think, is bullied at school for being really sheltered by her mom. She doesn't really know a lot and is just kind of an outcast, I guess." You watch Vance's expression and surprisingly he's still listening, waiting for you to continue. You do. "Anyway, Sue gets Tommy to take her to prom so she can have a good time and live her life like an actual person. Her mom's super religious though so she didn't like it but Carrie went anyway. Another group of people poured pigs blood on her while they were crowned queen and queen."

Vance seemed as though he were in thought for a moment before he quickly fixed his expression. "It sounds okay, I guess." He shrugged and tapped his fingers against his arms. He normally fiddled with his pocket knife but you had recently asked him not to do it around you, it often made you nervous. He was understanding, and you knew he would be. Vance was without a doubt scary but you were his boyfriend, he wasn't going to scare you. Not with any harm, anyway.

Instead Vance had a habit of simply sneaking up on you or showing up behind corners while you were distracted. He still took joy in being an absolute menace, unfortunately. You're taken away from your thoughts as your boyfriend takes your pencil from your hand and more carefully takes your sketchbook. You allow him, you knew he had no malicious intent.

Often times when he took your sketchbook he simply wanted to look through it or occasionally doodle. This time it seemed as though he were trying to copy your drawing of Carrie right beside your own. His lips were pressed together and his brows furrowed as he focused, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly more when he messed up and had to erase his mistake. You weren't sure if he was frustrating himself until he threw the pencil down onto the bed and looked at you with a proud grin.

You take your attention away from Vance and look at his copy of your drawing. A small smile is placed upon your face as you study it. It really wasn't that good, but Vance was proud of it and it certainly was a bit better than it normally was. If your drawing wasn't right there you'd be able to guess it was Carrie. Had he been practicing or something?

"You have some competition, now." Your boyfriend boasted, his arms crossed as he looked down at your sketchbook and then back up to you. You snort, shaking your head a little in disbelief. "Clearly. Stop practicing, i'm supposed to be the artsy one in this relationship, that's my job. Not yours."

Vance let out a laugh at your response. "Maybe I will take your place. Be careful." You rolled your eyes in attempts to show your false lack of approval but the smile plastered onto your expression proved otherwise. You couldn't believe it, before you had dated Vance you would've assumed the most artsy thing he was interested in was carving things with his pocket knife. You were proven wrong, apparently.

Whether it was from an actual new interest in drawing or his competitive nature in general you weren't sure, but you weren't complaining. You were glad he at least had some sort of interest in the things your interested in, even if it was just to try and be better than you at it. An idea popped up into your head, an idea anyone else would get punched for even considering. You were his boyfriend though, so you were pretty much safe.

"I'll just beat your highscore at pinball or something. Doesn't seem that hard." You shrugged, taking a quick glance at Vance's expression. He looked shocked, his mouth slightly opened and his eyes wide. You almost laughed but you managed to bite your tongue. As much as you knew Vance wouldn't actually hurt you you couldn't count on him putting you in a light headlock, which was probably what he was considering right now.

"You wouldn't even get close." Vance's voice got lower, his tone nowhere far away from threatening. Still, the spark of amusement in his eyes is still there. He's only teasing.

"I'm thinking about it. Since we're picking up new hobbies and all." You flip through the pages of your sketchbook to try and seem as though this conversation wasn't interesting you in the slightest. You probably just looked a little dumb.

"You absolutely will not!" Vance quickly moves forward and holds you close in a position where you could barely move. You can't help but laugh, your fists flying backwards in an attempt to get out of your boyfriend's grasp. It comes nowhere near working but you can feel the vibrations of him trying his best to stop himself from laughing, too. It wasn't really working that well.

"Vance Hopper I will break that pinball machine instead!" You cackled, finally landing a hit on Vance. By the way he grunted and seemed to almost stagger a little you could tell you had accidentally hurt him more than you wanted to. Before you could even pause and apologize he was back to teasing as if you hadn't even done anything at all.

"I'll just take your sketchbook, then." Your boyfriend stated in a matter-of-fact tone. You barely even get your words out before he lets go and grabs your sketchbook before you get a chance to. Vance quickly gets off of your bed and you copy his movements, the two of you pausing as you wait for the other to move. You move first, grabbing for your sketchbook only for him to let out a bark of laughter and run out of your room. You want to say something but you decide to save your breath for the chase you knew he was likely going to win.

Vance ran from cops significantly more than you did. You never ran from cops, you didn't have to. This wasn't the first time he had unceremoniously stolen something from you and ran, unfortunately. He seemed to find it entertaining and while you did, too in a sense it didn't always end in you winning. Still, you decide to feed his already overgrown ego and chase him around your house in hopes he won't accidentally break anything in the process.

It doesn't take you long to catch up, once you get downstairs you find him waiting right in the living room. The second he sees you, though, he starts running again and you do, too. You dodge various pieces of furniture, almost knocking one of the chairs in your dining room over. Thankfully Vance is much less clumsy than you and as far as you have seen hasn't come close to breaking anything or knocking anything over.

"Give it!" You demand, your breath overtaking your voice as you struggle to get it back. Vance is struggling too, his chest rising and lowering as he stands with your sketchbook on the other side of the table. Rather than a proper response he gives an out of breath laugh. You know you won't get your stolen property back by simply catching him, that boy has outrun probably half of the police officers in Denver easily.

You try your best to formulate a plan in your head. You could trick him, but you weren't really sure how. Even though he had already failed two grades and was easily going on year three he wasn't an idiot. Whatever you quickly came up with he'd definitely figure out without a doubt. Bribery, maybe. The only thing he cares about his pinball, though, and you weren't that keen on wasting money when you knew he'd give it back eventually.

Even so, you wanted to win. You may be the polar opposite of your boyfriend personality wise but you were equally as competitive. You were going to get that sketchbook back on your own.

"I'll give you money for pinball if you give me my sketchbook." You try your best to hide your growing smirk. Vance raised one singular eyebrow, his breaths becoming more regulated as time goes on. You don't need a verbal response to know he's considering and likely wants you to go on.

"Enough for like - a few games maybe? I know you're short on change right now, you were complaining about it earlier at the Grab n' Go." You knew this because you were the one Vance was complaining to. You often watched him play pinball the same as he often watched you draw.

"Okay, deal." Vance shrugs, stepping forward. You know Vance, and you know he's not just gonna give it to you that easily. You're gonna have to be equally as mean if you want that sketchbook as bad as he does. As soon as he walks close enough you waste no time to tackle him to the ground, catching him off guard and causing both of you to tumble into the ground.

Before Vance has enough time to react you grab your sketchbook from his hands and try your best to get up. Instead he grabs your ankle and pulls you down, crawling forward in attempt to grab your own sketchbook from your hands after you had just taken it back from him. You loved him, but the audacity this boy has sometimes is truly unbelievable. Determined to not let Vance take it again you slide it across the floor, causing your boyfriend to pause and curse under his breath.

You could tell he was beginning to take this seriously. You were too, in a sense. You really wanted to win for once and Vance could tell. The two of you rush forward, your socks sliding on the floor of the dining room as you both try your best to get there first. Without thinking you push Vance's face away to try and give you enough time and stop him a little. It works, and you feel your sketchbook in your hands once again.

You decide to not make the mistake of lingering again and bolt upstairs deciding running outside with Vance chasing you would look a little odd without context. You also didn't feel like getting your socks dirty. Your boyfriend wastes no time chasing after you as you make your ways upstairs, the thumping of two pairs of feet on the stairs probably enough to cause an earthquake if you both tried hard enough.

You make it into your room before Vance does and, knowing exactly what he's gonna try, shove it into one of your drawers right after closing the door on his face. It opens right after you shut the drawer closed, leaving you to stand in your own room empty handed and a little nervous. Your boyfriend looks over your room in a frenzy to try and find your sketchbook and quickly gives up, accepting the sketchbook is gone but not yet accepting you actually won.

A proud grin adorns your face, your whole body shaking with leftover adrenaline from being chased around your own house and being knocked to the ground once or twice. Vance stares at you before huffing and sitting down onto your bed, the mattress shifting with the new weight of your boyfriend. You join him.

"So I don't get the change for pinball?" He asks, his voice full of disappointment that really doesn't match his personality at all. You sigh and roll your eyes ever so slightly, the smallest of smiles appearing as you fished through your pockets for change. As you hand it over to Vance his expression immediately lights up and he affectionately punches you in the shoulder, maybe a little harder than necessary. "Alright, thanks." He laughs, putting the coins into his own pockets. You really got robbed twice.

You snort in response and Vance seems to stare at your small bookshelf, his eyes apparently caught on a specific one. You follow his gaze but can't tell exactly which one he's looking at specifically, there are quite a few.

"Hey, isn't that the book you were talking about?" You narrow your eyes in thought before you finally come across the memory.

"Oh, yeah. Carrie. Why?"

"Can I uh - borrow it or something? I probably won't finish it, I'm not a literal nerd like you, but you seemed to like it so maybe it's not that bad." He shrugged nonchalantly, though his fixed attention on the book broke his 'cool guy' facade. You smirk, standing up and grabbing the book from the shelf.

"Sure, I don't mind. Just give it back at some point, please." You can't help but chuckle, holding the book out towards your boyfriend. He gives an indignant snort in response and takes it from your hands.

"No promises."

[yourmidnightlover]

never go back

Summary: spencer notices how your boyfriend takes advantage of you and finally does something about it.

TW: titty sucking, oral (female receiving), cheating, dom!spencer, scratching, slapping (only one), cursing, choking, spencer dirty talk lol, penetrative sex, creampie. *let me know if i missed anything*

WC: 3,724

A/N - i'm using noah as the 'other man' schtick in probably all of my future one shots bc i can't find it within myself to create a new character each and every time. so your douche of a bf will always be noah miller. if you ever get a nice bf i'll be sure to change his name but for now this is what we're working with. got it? got it.

masterlist

-------------------------------

there are many things that people should go back to. schooling, maybe an old job, an old vacation spot.

your boyfriend was not one of those things.

mostly because your boyfriend sucked.

it was now a fact that spencer reid himself had come to believe quite a while ago and now, well now he had reason.

he had always felt as though you were too good for noah, similar for practically anyone in existence (himself included). he was always a complete ass to you no matter the circumstance.

there was one time the entire team had been back really late from a case that took a toll on all of you. it was emotionally and physically draining. the flight back had been delayed because of weather issues in the state you had been in, meaning you couldn't leave until days after it was solved.

any time you had gone to answer the phone, spencer would be able to see your stance and body language through the glass window. you had been apologizing for something you couldn't even control. you would narrow your brows the way you only did when you were being yelled at. you bit your lip the way you did when you were being made to feel guilty.

he was guilt tripping you for something you couldn't even control.

when you had gotten back it wasn't any better. noah had been giving you the cold shoulder. he was defensive when you asked what was wrong.

and that was only 3 weeks into the relationship.

after being together for 2 months, you had gotten flowers delivered on your desk. you assumed they were from your boyfriend, reasonably so, and went to go thank him. spencer saw the shock in your eyes when you saw your boyfriend huddled in the corner with some new intern. spencer saw the look in your eye change from sadness to anger in the blink of his own.

you took a deep breath, and walked away from the situation, completely missing the way he tucked the intern's hair behind her ear as he leaned in to whisper something to make her giggle. when you got back to your desk you threw the flowers in the garbage can, not even bothering to read the note.

it was pretty indirect, but looking into it he realized it was an issue that should've been addressed. every time the team would go out together, everyone was clearly invited. you would always decline because 'noah wanted to take me out tonight' or 'noah said he needs me, so i'll have to rain check'.

it wasn't because you were a bad person, the opposite actually. it was because noah was taking advantage of your kindness.

because any time you needed him, 'noah's out with the boys' or 'noah had to work late' or, here's a kicker, 'noah had a hard time at work'. as if you don't have a hard time looking at dead bodies while he just has to write up reports.

even when you got injured during a case, shot in the shoulder, noah seemed as though he couldn't have cared less. he wouldn't even go to your apartment to visit you while you were in recovery because 'noah didn't have time to visit'.

spencer could even recall when you went out with the girls one night, spencer being the designated driver, that you had told them how 'noah didn't want you to dress too provocatively so you had to wear something more modest'.

now, spencer doesn't care all to much about what you wear because, frankly, it's none of his business. but now that he heard how noah cared oh-so-much, he decided to wrack his brain for the 'provocative' outfits you've worn. there was not a single one that anyone should make a comment about. you looked stunning no matter what you wore, so you'd grab any man's attention no matter the clothing on your body.

but spencer? he made sure to never be that much of an asshole to you. he made sure to make up for him being an asshole.

he would grab you some morning coffee like you always had before you had a boyfriend. he would make sure to tell you that you looked lovely when you were able to go out with the team. he would visit you when you injured yourself and were lonely, he even stayed back for a few days with you to help you get through it.

hell, he was the one to get you the flowers. you had been having a rough week and spencer thought it might cheer you up. he had gifted you a bouquet of 12, blue chiffon flowers because those were your favorite.

but this was his breaking point. you had come to his apartment, once again in the middle of the night, talking about noah fucking miller cheating on you.

he had done it once before when he was 'out with the boys' you decided to stop by when he said he'd be back, wanting to just be the amazing girlfriend that you are. so when you walk in and hear your boyfriend moaning along with another woman that isn't you, you immediately run back out. you run back out and drive all the way to spencer's.  

and here you are again. spencer wasn't mad at you, it was noah he was mad at. he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

spencer had always liked you, no, he's always loved you. everything about you. how could he not? you're perfect.

but loving you how he does and seeing you being used as a toy to fuck for a certain noah miller not only made his heart ache but also made his blood boil.

spencer wasn't an idiot. he had heard the way the old morgan had referred to women. the thing is, noah is way more of a fuckboy than the old morgan ever was. and that scared spencer to pieces. he knew that you would only be missing out on team outings just to get fucked by a douchebag. he knew that the only reason said douchebag wouldn't visit you was because you couldn't fuck. he knew that the reason said douchebag was cornering that intern was to fuck her, too.

so when you arrived at spencer's place, this time you weren't crying. you were furious. you were angry and upset, as was spencer.

"he did it again, spence," you breathed out as you paced across his living room floor. "i was supposed to meet him in a few hours but i was going to surprise him and i caught him with another tramp! i didn't even confront him. i just- i just left!"

"cheated? noah?" he asked as if he didn't believe it at first, not wanting to seem like as much of a dick as noah.

"yes! cheated. god! i am so ANGRY!" you ran your hand through your hair, a grunt leaving your mouth. "and... and frustrated! and... UGH!" you sighed aggressively.

"and what?" spencer asked as he stood up, slowly making his way to you. "what else?" he said, his hand now brushing that stubborn strand of hair behind your ear.

"i-i'm..." you trailed off, getting lost in his beautiful eyes.

if you were honest with yourself, you'd admit how much you loved spencer. but you thought he'd never love you like that. not since you helped him through jj getting married. he really thought she was it for him, at least that's what you'd come to think he believed. over the years you had grown so much closer and grown such an attraction for each other that the other person knew about. it was ironic, truly.

"say it, y/n," spencer leaned over you, his lips ghosting over yours. "i need to hear you say it."

"god, just kiss me," you said, your hands flying to the back of his hair to push his mouth to yours.

there was no hesitation from spencer to give you everything he had. his hand on the side of your face remained there as his other hand drifted to your waist to pull you closer to his body. your tongues met fervently with covetous, passion, and longing yet with just gentle firmness that felt protecting and as if it was how everything was supposed to be.

"please, spencer," you quietly whispered once you unlatched from one another.

"please what, princess," he asked, his hand running through your hair.

"i just... i need you," she pleaded with him, her hands still tugging gently on his hair. "please," you put your foreheads together, breathing in each others air as you silently begged him to help you in any way that he could.

"i'd do anything for you," he whispered so delicately as if the entire team were standing right beside you. "you know i'd do anything for you."

"then do something," you demanded.

spencer took action by kissing you just as intensely as before, this time his hands went to your ass. he grabbed your thighs to signal for you to jump, once you did you wrapped your legs around his torso as he carried you into his bedroom. he set you down just in front of the bed before you began to undo his shirt, him returning the favor by undoing yours.

"god, i've wanted you for so long," he growled, nipping gently at your earlobe as he laid you back on the bed. "lift your hips," he ordered, you obeyed his every command. you always would. "good girl," he praised as he ran his hands down your now bare waist.

"please," you begged, your hips bucking up to get any source of friction. "spencer..." you trailed off.

"i know, princess. i know," he said before climbing on top of you, connecting your lips with his once again, this time much more eager than before if that were possible.

as you arched your back, he took the opportunity to unclasp the hook on your bra. you shrugged it off your shoulders to allow him to throw the bra somewhere else in his room. he finally took a breath, removing his lips from yours to admire the view in front of him.

"god, you're so beautiful," he growled before placing gentle but eager kisses along the tops of your breasts, massaging the one his mouth wasn't on.

he pressed his knee between your legs, allowing you to buck your hips up to get that release you wanted so bad. you whined as he took your nipple in his mouth, his tongue flicking past it rapidly as he occasionally nibbled on it gently.

"spen-spencer," you ran your hands through his hair, tugging gently on the roots.

"mmm," he sat his head up, trailed kisses up your throat. "god, i love you so much."

"i-i love you," you moaned, pulling his head up to connect your lips together. "i love you so so much."

"i'm so glad to hear that," he huffed a sigh of relief. "because otherwise it'd be awkward when i did this," he began trailing kisses down your body, leading down towards your center. "i'll show you what it's like to be with a man that actually loves and respects you, yea? show you what it feels like to actually be pleased by a man? what it's like to be with a real man?" he teased.

his fingers trailed around your entrance, gathering your arousal that'd been building for what felt like ages. he pressed gentle kisses around your pussy before finally connecting his lips with your clit, a low groan emitting from your body because of the contact.

"yes, please," you shot your head back, relishing in the feeling of the direct skin contact.

"hey," spencer slapped your thigh, your head shot back up to see him between your legs, a truly beautiful sight that you'd never get tired of. "eyes on me," he demanded before going back down on you, not breaking eye contact as he brought out sounds from you that you weren't even sure you could make. "talk to me, princess. let me know how it feels."

"fe-feels so good," you sighed, taking your breasts in your hands and massaging them. "i-i can-can't even think," you stuttered out, too caught up in the pleasure to form a coherent sentence.

you had felt so good as he sucked on your clit, succeeding in bringing you closer to the edge than noah ever has, but when he inserted two fingers into your entrance...

"oh my fuck!" your hands shot down to grab onto his locks, pushing him further into your body, a low groan leaving him.

his fingers didn't stop their work. he curled them at just the right spot, sending you flying over the edge. spencer used his free hand to grab onto your thigh to keep them from closing in completely on his head, still working you through your high. he placed a kiss on your clit once more before he brought his head up to you, connecting your lips passionately.

"could noah ever make you come like that? huh? could he make you feel so good you could barely even think?" he grabbed your chin in his hands, holding it in place to look at him as you shook your head the best you could. "no?"

"mm-mm," you tried to shake your head 'no' once more.

"did you think of him while i was going down on you? were you thinking about how he fucked that little tramp?" he asked harshly, you shook your head 'no' again. "oh, what were you thinking, princess?" he finally released your face so you could speak.

"ab-about how well you know my body. about how, how good you looked between my legs. about how much i love you," you replied quickly, knowing exactly what to say.

"right answer," he connected your lips once more. "what do you want, love?" he asked, peppering soft kisses along your jaw where his hands once held your throat firmly.

"you. i-i want you in-inside me," you swallowed, your hand finding his and pulling it up to your lips to press a kiss to it, then another, then another, then another. "please, doctor?" you used your best puppy dog eyes you knew he couldn't resist.

"god, call me that again," he rasped lowly.

"what... doctor?" you took his hand and started sucking on his fingers, letting them slip in and out slowly and then moving onto the next.

"fuck, yes," he growled as he pressed another kiss to your lips before lining himself up at your center. "are you sure, princess?" he traced your jaw with the fingers you were previously sucking on.

"yes, sir," you nodded. "i'm sure."

you felt him slowly push inside of you slowly to allow you to adjust to his size. you had your suspicions of how big he was, but feeling him inside of you made it all much more real.

"fuck, you're so tight," he moaned into your ear quietly as he slowly pulled back out, going in just as slow.

"sp-spence-"

"wrong," he slapped your face gently, a whimper leaving your lips before he grasped your face to make you look him in the eyes.

"doc-doctor," you corrected yourself.

"good girl," he said, feeling your pussy clench from the praise. "oh you like that?" he felt it again. "maybe you just like hearing me talk, yea?" his pace began picking up slowly. "you like hearing how this pussy makes me feel? how tight... and warm... and wet it is?"

"u--uh huh," you nodded your head the best you could as he began thrusting much more rapid, hitting that special spot inside of you with each movement.

"it seems like you haven't felt this good in a long time huh? haven't had your pussy pounded like this in a while?" he asked as he was catching his breath.

"ne-never, doctor," you confirmed, hands reaching around his back and dragging your nails down, surely leaving scratch marks all down them.

"fuck," he growled. "noah never made you feel this good princess? never made you forget how to speak in sentences? never knew how to get you going like this?"

"n-no, no! never! god, never!" you cried as you pulled his body even closer to you. "i-i'm close, please!"

"you wanna come all over my dick, yea? you want to show me how much your pussy loves it when a real man fucks it?"

that was it to let that spring burst inside of you, parts flying everywhere. you cried his name as he worked you through your orgasm, holding onto his shoulders and hair to keep you grounded.

"cum inside me, please," you begged. "fi-fill me up."

"fuck, whatever you want, princess," he kept pounding into you at a rapid pace. "god, i'm gonna come inside you, and send you back to that scumbag of a boyfriend so he can see that you're mine now. so he can see what happens when his girlfriend is mistreated and fucked by someone who knows what they're doing, yea?"

"yea, yea!" you whined, nails digging back into his skin as he released his load into you, thrusting it gently back inside after.

"god, i love you so much," he moaned into your ear, pressing a kiss to your cheek by your ear.

"i love you," you replied, stroking his hair to help him come down, him still inside of you. he began thrusting inside of you once again.

"don't want any of it to spill out before you get to him," he felt you clench around him one more time. "you're very responsive, princess. i like that about you."

"it-it's just you, spence. it's always been you," you pulled him in for another kiss.

this one was full of passion but not the kind of eagerness. it was full of desire and longing, pent up emotions flowing out into one another fluidly.

"now let me go see my soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend," you huffed as he pulled out of you, wincing from the overstimulation. "i'll see you later?"

"i'll see you later," he pressed a kiss to your forehead before helping you gather your clothes.

driving back to his apartment, you felt rather giddy with yourself. should you have felt bad? absolutely not. he's a manipulative asshole who's used you for sex on numerous occasions, so he deserved the bittersweet irony of what was coming to him.

*get it, coming to him? lol i'm sorry i had to :)*

you knocked on the door softly, greeted by a rather chipper noah who grabbed your face as soon as he saw you, connecting your lips. his kiss was nothing like spencer's. his lips weren't as soft and tentative. they weren't plump and round, they were harsh and rough and unpleasant.

he quickly led you to the bedroom, not to your surprise. he sat down on the bed, you straddled his hips, acting as if it were spencer instead - which was pretty hard to do after knowing what he was like in the sack.

you felt his boner through his pants quickly after you got on top of him. then when he flipped you over and pulled your pants and underwear down, he was met with a surprise.

"someone's excited to see me," he chuckled before licking a thick stripe from your slit to clit, very aggressive to where it almost hurt to have the pressure. "god you taste so good, doll."

he continued at this for a while, inserting his tongue to your hole very once in a while and licking up yours and spencer's arousal with it. you faked your moans and whimpers as his ministrations became more eager, not really getting you anywhere.

after he was finished with your turn - no, he didn't even make you cum - he laid back on the bed as if he were waiting for you to get on top of him again.

"actually," you stood up from the bed, pulling up your clothes with you. "i'm done with this. we're over."

you watched his face as he took in the information just released to him. it changed from surprised and shocked, to confused, to disgusted, to angry and frustrated.

"what the fuck?" he sat up from the bed, a disgruntled look on his face. "you wait until after you cum to tell me this?" he walked over to you, arms flailing in the air.

"yea. i did. and by the way, i didn't cum," you informed him. "that's something you've never really been good at making me do. although i'm not sure how you've been able to convince me to do anything with the way you treat me."

"what do you mean? i'm a good gu-"

"shut up for one second, please," you rolled your eyes, running your hand through your hair. "i know you've cheated on me numerable times. i stayed because i thought that maybe there was a reason, but i've come to realize that i was just... settling with you," you shrugged.

"you've treated me like crap since this 'relationship' started and i'm tired of it. i know someone who not only treats me with respect and kindness, but can also actually make me cum. shocker," you chuckled.

"who is this asshole? what the hell-"

"i wasn't finished, sweetie," you spat out viciously. "he's not an asshole. you're the asshole. you're the one that's getting dumped. so this is goodbye," you turned around to walk out of his room before leaving him with one more thought. "how did his cum taste with mine?" you tilted your head innocently, smiling at his shocked face as he realized what you meant before walking out.

and you were never more glad that you didn't have to go back to him anymore.

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