Hoseok X Reader - Tumblr Posts

VIVE LA RÉVOLUTION

Chapter 1: the beginning.

‘Many many years ago’

That's how most stories start, right? Stories that entail a damsel in distress unable to do as much as defend herself, or would be so ditsy as to leave her magical shoe behind.

Yes ‘many many years ago’ is used to tell stories, these olden folk tales. Stories that are told to make village daughters work for their happily ever after. A happily ever after in which all likelihood would never come to them. Would never arrive on the common girls doorsteps like they so desperately desired.

These are all they are, tales and stories promising a better future that would never come.

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Another day rises over the mor. The soft light awakens the village's inhabitants.

A tired sigh leaves your lips as you are one of the first to rise on this new day.

A dull ache remains at the bottom of your back from the injury acquired days ago, where you had slipped over a glistening wet rock on the way back uphill from the town market, on your way back to your workhouse.

The red lion workhouse.

Far from the life you'd heard and even imagined as a child hearing the stories of lower class peasants like you, as you were often called by nobles passing through the shacks and muddy barren fields. The peasants in the stories were able to leave their station with their gentry and noble husbands. A glint in their eyes as they walked towards their new life with their husbands. A ring on their finger and a life in the lap of luxury secured.

Time.

Time had been the one to slap that dream out of your head. The cruelest reality of all, indeed. The one where you realized that no prince on a white stallion would come riding up the mountains for you.

Any hope of that happening died that day, 15 years ago.

The moment the king's soldiers, the knights came to town.

They had stormed into your small village where your family lived. They came marching towards your shack, dragged your parents out of bed and mutilated them where they stood while they made you, their child watch on in horror as they were tortured and finally being thrown into the blazing flame that ate away at your home where you'd all lived.

Your tiny body held back despite the struggle against the stoney like hold of the royal pests holding onto you.

You screamed out for your parents to come back to you from the fire.

You were found in front of your burnt down home after the knights had ridden off into the dark distance.

Madam Rouge, the village wealthiest resident, was the one to find you after the tragic events of that night. Scandalous red lipstick painting her lips, the torch in her hands highlighted the gleam in her eager eyes, eyes eager to help.

She dragged you back to the red lion that night.

Her kindness was what kept you alive, but you were too young, too young and naive to realize her kindness came with a price.

Yes, that was something you soon learned. Everything came with a price.

Madam Rouge's greatest pleasure in life was dolling her girls up as if the young peasants were royalty.

You were a particular victim of this. Often being pulled away from the other girls working.

Madam rouge may have been many things, but cruel to the ones she took in was not one of them.

She was firm but fair.

She gave you and many other girls homes through the years. Food and water being given to you when you could've been lying dead in the streets.

The girls, of course, had to work for what they had. And you worked the hardest, so happy to be alive. To be given a chance to have a family again.

But of course with every good thing comes a bad, many of the girls found it unfair. These girls were Madam Rouge's least favorite girls.

Spoiled, entitled and quite frankly, dull.

Of course a woman of her refined elegance would not take kindly to such behaviors.

The morning sun poking through the windows with the worn wooden frames. This was truly a sight accustomed to you by now, a surefire way to know it was time for the workday to start.

Getting up before the rest of the girls had become pure routine by this point. It was something you'd always prided yourself on ever since you first came to the red lion workhouse, your work ethic outshined any others in the shared house of labour.

There was something about the way madam red looked at you when you did the job better than everyone else.

Pride. A pride strongly glistening in her dark brown eyes.

If such a thing was possible you'd even describe her gaze as shining. A genuine pride that she held for you made you feel worthwhile, it almost felt motherly.

Almost.

You knew she could never ever be your mother, and she didn't try to be but that didn't stop you from reaching for her highest praises. They were the closest thing you'd experienced to parental pride for 13 years.

The closest you'd have for the rest of your life.

Getting ready for another tiresome workday was as tantalisingly mundane, as usual. Throwing your H/L H/C hair up into a scruffy loose ponytail. The birds continued singing, the cows kept mooing.

Walking down the olden wooden steps that were practically breaking apart. First thing on the agenda today was to help feed the rest of the girls in the mess hall.

It seemed as if fate had other plans as you were distracted from your path to the kitchens by the mistress of the red lion herself. Lady Rouge, much preferring her former title of madam, but was still three times the lady compared to most snobby nobles.

“Y/N i thought that was you? Come sit with us for a moment dear, you deserve the break. A proper lady like you should never have calluses.”

That was something that had always confused you greatly. You were going to get calluses working in a workhouse, but Madam Rouge seemed to believe that you were the only one above working hard enough for calluses. You were also the only one she ever called a lady, you'd never thought to question why. It must be because you were the youngest girl she'd ever brought into the red lion. She still sees you as the baby she had taken in.

She sat there with her posture perfectly poised, sipping a sweet smelling tea from a delicately painted teacup. She was adorning her usual attire with her hat placed splendidly on the solid oak coffee table.

Sitting opposite her was a face you had not seen for almost a year and a half. A woman wearing a navy blue hanbok. Her outfit was sophisticated for the village, but you doubted that nobles from the capital would ever even set their eyes on the scruffy silk patterns embedded on the course material. The brunette smiled, her hands caressing her large stomach.

“Oh my! Congratulations” you smiled brightly, truly elated at the sight of one of the older girls from the house doing so well. Sylvia smiles, her eyes creasing in the corners as she takes a sip of an equally sweet smelling tea.

“Oh well it's a lot of work but it's worth it to raise a future knight.” Sylvia says excitedly but her excitement makes you pause.

“A knight?” you couldn't help but ask incredulously.

Sylvia's eyelashes fluttered as her gaze fell to you and her smile dissipated.

“Yes, a knight, my little boy is already so strong.” she said with a certain look in her eye and the way she spoke had an edge, a colder, more stern edge than before.

“Boy?” you asked again, a little confused as to how she was so sure of her baby's sex.

Sylvia's eye twitches as she forces an almost unbearably noticeable smile on her pale pink lips. “Yes, a boy. I would never dishonour my husband, the man who gives me such a good life by giving him a girl.” her eyes look down at you as if you had killed her unborn child. Her eyes were filled with something akin to pure hatred.

Madam Rouge smiles as if not noticing the newly tense atmosphere in the workhouse common room. “I knew you'd bring honour to the red household” Lady Rouge smiled brightly as if all the village's problems had just been solved.

You’d stopped paying attention by this point, too entranced by something that Sylvia had said earlier.

Many thoughts swirled around your head at once. But the one most prominent was the one screaming at you to take this woman's baby from her as she clearly had no regard for anyone other than herself and ‘honour’.

Of course you knew you couldn't really take her baby away, but it hurt your heart to know of the future that this child will be forced into. Never feeling enough unless he becomes a knight and brings his mother honour.

“You'd really wish for your son to become a knight? Even after the royal platoon burned our homes to the ground?” You were unable to keep your tongue to yourself it seems as the words that spill out of you cause a huge sense of panic at the realisation that you’d voiced your thoughts. The question was asked sharply, something whic clearly bothered the mother to be.

“Y/N, they burned your home to the ground, not mine. My son will do as I say and you will keep yourself out of my business because you are pathetic. You hold onto hatred of the people who govern us. They give us everything an youre still not grateful? . Spoiled brat, even after your parents died you had everything handed to you. Didn't have to do anything but be as pathetic as you are to become madams favourite." There was a sick enjoyment in her eyes as she spluttered off her filth.

A deep ashamed feeling creeps into your stomach as you mutter a quiet apology.

“That's right, respect your betters. I worked for everything I have. You're just a sad little girl whose parents died and so madam pitties you because of your losses. If I want my son to bring honour to his family, he will do as I say.” Sylvia felt a sick sense of pride seeing the tears gather in your waterline.

Madam rouges face, once painted with a pleased smile, turns to solid stone as she watches the exchange between her favourite and a former girl of hers.

“My son will even bring honour to you, everyone in this rat infested squalor in fact.” Sylvia sneers.

You thought that out of everyone that Sylvias would be the most likely to understand her stance and the horrid resentment that you held towards the royal knights. Sylvia's story was perhaps more harrowing than your own so you simply couldn't understand why she was jumping so gallantly to the knights defence.

“That's enough Y/N, go and get some eggs from the chickens and some milk.” Madam Rouge raises her voice bitterly, even as she spoke to you, her fiery gaze was trapped on Sylvia. “And Sylvia,”

The brunette perks up, foolishly expecting to be praised.

“I’d not speak of honour while you force your own desired future on your unborn baby, a future in which he's with people who slaughtered your whole family.” Both you and sylvia became silent at madam Rouges outburst. Her breathing now gone ragged.

“This is not how I raised either of you. Start behaving like the proper ladies I've raised. Sylvia id like to have a word with you before you go. Y/N you'll need not stay here or help to cook this morning, go and gather ingredients from outside." Madam Rouge huffs.

“Yes madam.” Y/N curtsies apologetically, before rushing to go to the chicken coop and cow pen.

The room suddenly becomes eerily silent. Madam rouge looks at Sylvia with her sharp cold eyes. Sylvia shivers as madam Rouges cold demeanour becomes altogether something much darker.

“She was always your favourite” Sylvia starts, wildly off put by Madam Rouge's new frightening demeanour, Sylvia couldn't describe it. But she felt unsafe in the presence of the sole woman who raised her, a feeling that she didn't like.

Madam Rouge goes to speak but she never gets the opportunity as she is barraged with Sylvia's sudden emotion.

“Don't deny it.” there's a long period of silence,

“If I've ever treated that girl differently it's because she's deserved it.” Rouge defends.

Sylvia's resolve cracks and she utters a quiet and croaky “why? What makes her different from me or any of the other girls that've been here over the years?” Sylvia indeed felt threatened.

Madam Rouge stands firm. “Have a safe trip home little one.” she says, already turned around, prepared to walk away.

“It's always been the same! Why her! I worked hard too! I lost my family too!”

Madam rouge stops. A manic smile paints her blood red lips as she turns around, launching her sharp cruel words like a bullet.

“She's simply more beautiful than you my darling. Always has been and always will be. Do you even know what a pretty penny she'd fetch in the world of nobles looking for sluts to add to their expensive collections? You'd never be worth a sixteenth of her price.”

Sylvia stares with an unplaced hurt.

“But my dowry-” she begins to argue

“Your dowry was nothing but a cruel joke. Alas I knew it was the best offer you were going to get. You are not the prettiest girl like you believe yourself to be.” Madam Rouge retorts, un bothered as she picks at her pristine nails.

Sylvia could only nod as she fought back tears. She took a deep breath and then left quickly out of the red lion workhouse and into her chief husband's carriage that awaited her. Ready and eager to take her back down the steep hill on which the red lion was situated.

Madam Rouges expression returns to peace.

Dating Hobi headcanons

Hoseok x Reader

Warnings: swearing, lil suggestive, not proofread

A/N: we've made it to the final member in the first installment of this series! I hope y'all have enjoyed these as much as I did writing them

Masterlist

Requests are open

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I know it's been said before, but I'm saying it again, he is human sunshine.

Like you cannot be unhappy around him. It's just not possible.

He lives for making you smile and laugh.

He's so full of nervous energy, he couldn't stop his hands from shaking on your first date.

Goes from one extreme to the other when he's flirting. Either he's cheering for you at the top of his lungs or speaking so low that only you can hear him.

Same goes for when he's flustered.

Good Morning & Goodnight texts.

Calls you 'Babe/Bae', 'Jagi', 'Precious', 'Angel', and pretty much anything that comes to mind.

Proud AF Boyfriend. You know that Will Smith meme where he's showing off Jada's dress? That's him all the time.

Prefers casual dates like café hopping or shopping(he likes buying you gifts and acting as your stylist, if you'll let him)

👏Couples 👏Outfits 👏

Tells you he loves at least ten times a day.

Tries to teach you how to dance(don't worry, he'll keep the 'Dance Teacher' face away, mostly)

Loves to surprise you with romantic gestures. Like, you come from work/school, and he will have something like a candlelit dinner or a pillow fort and movie ready and waiting for you.

Self-care date nights, complete with face masks and mani/pedis

I wrote a thing relating to this before, but I think he likes leaving you little notes, some of which you don't find for days because he hid it somewhere like in the fridge.

Despite being so bright and friendly, it takes a little bit for him feel comfortable really opening up to you.

You're one of the only people who knows what on his infamous camera roll.

Surprisingly low on the pda scale.

Like, obviously he loves skinship, but when you're around others, he tries to keep things respectful, sticking to just holding your hand or a quick lil kiss here and there.

The second you're alone though, dear lord.

It's a wonder that y'all haven't fused together from the way he hangs onto you.

Kisses you like you're his primary source of oxygen.

Constantly trailing his hands over you in some way or other.

Another acts of service king.

You've seen him with his members, he's always checking in on them or picking up after them.

Actually likes getting to look after you, even if it's just in little ways, like doing the dishes or picking up meds when you're sick.

Will cry if you ever fight(which in turn causes you to start crying, and then you're both just bawling and apologizing, and yeah, just don't fight please?)

Doesn't sleep well without you.

(Which is a little funny, cause the first night that you stayed over, he was so nervous that he could barely sleep)

Has fallen asleep on video chat several times when he's away because he finds your voice comforting.

Overall, he's such a super sweet and supportive boyfriend, I just love him.

Bad Friend

Hoseok x Reader

Summary: You've had a crush on your best friend for the longest time but tried to ignore it, until you can't.

Warnings: angst, reader's a little jealous and a little drunk, but it's okay, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this, I've been wanting to write for Hobi more! I meant to post this last night, but I was super tired and fell asleep, sorry.

Masterlist

Requests are open

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'I should've just stayed home, what was I thinking?'

The same thought kept reverberating around your head to the beat of the music as you tipped back another drink, watching as Hobi luaghed with the others.

You know you should be happy, you should be over there with him, celebrating the release of his album, but all you could think as you watched him smile, saturated in purple light, was how much you wanted to leave.

You don't know it bothered you so much to see him so close with Minjae, she was just a friend and fellow dancer at the company, like you. It made perfect sense that he would be close with her too.

That's a lie, you knew perfectly well why it bothered you, you just didn't want to admit it that it was because you were head over heels for your best friend.

From the first day you met, the two of you had just clicked. You shared the same sense of humor and determination, and his bright and friendly nature had instantly put you at ease. It sounded more than a little cliche to use such a comparison for him, but Hobi coming into your life had felt like the first glimpses of sunlight after a thunderstorm.

The two of had quickly formed a close friendship, but as time had passed, you'd had the sinking realization that your feelings had grown well beyond those of just a friend.

You'd tried your best to ignore the persistent flutter in your stomach whenever he touched you or looked at you too long, but at times it felt nearly impossible.

You'd considered owning up and telling him, frankly there were times you wondered if he knew already and was feigning ignorance, which only furthered your belief that he wouldn't feel the same, and you were not about to risk one of the most important relationships in your life over a stupid one-sided crush.

You were friends, nothing more, and you would be fine with that...

Right?

Right now, you weren't so sure, as you watched him and Minjae, both of them seeming to keep a little too close as they talked, making your chest tighten painfully. You tried to tell yourself that it was fine, you were overreacting, but when he slung his arm around her shoulder as he laughed at something she said, you broke.

"Y/n? Are you okay?" Jimin, who you'd spent most of the evening with, asked, noticing your sudden change in mood.

"I'm going home." You said, standing abruptly and slipping past him, determined to get out the crowded room before your emotions could get the best of you.

You'd barely made it halfway down the hall before you heard an all too familiar voice calling out your name behind you.

"Y/n!" Hobi pulled you to a stop as he caught up to you. "Jimin said you're leaving? What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, Hobi, please just go back to the party, they'll miss if you're gone too long."

"Not as much as I'll miss you." He said softly, reaching for your hand, but you jerked away, a little too quickly, resulting in you hitting your elbow against the wall and cursing under your breath.

"Don't say things like that!" You whined, clutching at the bruised limb.

"Why?" He asked.

"Because they make me feel things I shouldn't!" You snapped.

"Like what?"

Fuck, don't say it! But your mouth was faster than your brain.

"Like I love you!" You shouted. The words hung in the air as you stared at each other, frozen.

"You do?" He asked after a moment.

"I-uh... Yeah." You gave up, bracing yourself for his rejection.

"That's okay." He said.

You balked at him. "What?!"

"Yeah, I mean, I don't mind." He said, smiling slightly.

You blinked, unable to process the implication of his words.

"What are you doing? Why are you being so understanding?" You said, desperately trying to fight back the tears that were stinging your eyes. Why had you thought drinking was a good idea tonight? You knew you were overly emotional when drunk, anything could make you cry, including the way Hobi was currently staring at you. "Why can't you just be mad or hate me and make this easier?"

"Why would I hate you?" He asked, confused.

"Because I'm a bad friend!" You shouted. "I think and feel things about you that I shouldn't, and I get jealous when I have no fucking right to-!"

Your rant was cut short by Hobi connecting his lips with yours, your back hitting the wall behind you as you staggered in shock.

When he pulled back, it was only by a couple inches, resting his forehead against yours as you both tried to catch your breath.

"You're not a bad friend." He whispered. "I like you, Y/n." He let out a shaky laugh. "I like you so much, it crazy. I thought you knew how I felt, but I should've just said it, I'm sorry."

"Really?" Was all you could manage in response, head still spinning.

"Really." He said, pulling back further to meet your eyes. "Is that okay?"

You nodded.

"Can you kiss me again?" You asked, making him laugh.

"Absolutely." He chuckled before pressing his lips to yours again, much more softly this time, but it was still enough to send a shiver up your back as you leaned into the kiss, getting lost in the feeling of him.

You didn't know how much time passed before you separated again, faces flushed and hair tousled.

"We should probably head back in there." You whispered.

"In a minute." He replied, not ready to let you go so soon, now that he was able to hold you properly.

Thank My Lucky Stars

Pairing: bts ot7 × fem reader

Word Count: 2,685

Summary: You're on your period and the boys do everything they can to make you feel better.

Warnings: mentions of menstrual cycle (I honestly dk if periods need warnings? But better safe than sorry), menstrual cramps, reader goes through extreme mood swings but mostly just fluff.

A/N: Honestly, I started my period two days ago and was wishing that I had a bf to take care of me and stuff, and the next thing I knew, this fic wrote itself. It's definitely very self-indulgent lol, and basically everything the reader does is what I've did so far lmao. I hope this fic makes you atleast half as happy as it made me! P.S. It's been a ridiculously long time since I've written, and it's my first time writing for bangtan, so go easy on me!

Today was just another day. You wake up from your bed, feeling fatigued. Ugh, why does my body ache all over, you think to yourself, getting up from the bed as you stretch. You feel the tell tale sign of cramps in your abdomen, but dismiss it immediately, as your period wasn't due for the next two weeks. You brush your teeth and wander out of your room mindlessly, wondering what the boys were up to.

You find Taehyung in the living room, watching TV. “Good morning,” he says with a smile as you flop down on the couch next to him. “morning,” you grunt back. Taehyung, being the cuddly person he is, wraps his arm around you like he usually does, only for you to shrug him off. “Aw, why won't you let me hold you?” he whines, pouting at you. “Sorry Tae, but I'm not feeling good.” “Then it's the perfect time for cuddles! It's bound to make you feel better! C’mere” he says as he drapes himself over you again but you end up wrenching himself out of his grip, looking mad. “I said I wasn't in the mood for cuddles, Taehyung!” You yell at him. Taehyung flinches and looks hurt. Realising what you just did, you thought to yourself, Damn, why did I just snap at Tae like that? He didn't do anything wrong, he was just being his usual self. What's wrong with me? “Tae, I'm sorry-” but before you could finish your sentence Taehyung runs off to his room and slams it shut. You smack yourself for hurting Tae as you slumped back onto the couch.

You just sit there for a while until Hobi tapped you on your shoulder. “Y/N-ah?” You snap out of your thoughts.“What?” you bark at him. “Are you feeling alright?” “Why wouldn't I be?” you ask, slightly irate. “It's just that I went to your room and saw the covers stained.” he says softly. Oh. That's why I've been testy all morning. But it wasn't supposed to arrive until two weeks later! Ugh, I hate this. “I know that you would have cleaned it up already if you had noticed, but since you didn't, I'm assuming you didn't see.” “Yeah” you looked down, embarrassed. “Sorry you had to see that.” Hobi lifts up your chin. “Hey, don't apologise. It's just your period, something which you naturally go through. You don't have to feel bad about it, okay?” You nod. “Good. Now you should probably freshen up. Go to the bathroom, I'll bring you some clothes and a pad. Which one do you need?” “I can get it myself-” Hobi shushes you. “Shower. Now. I'll get you what you need.” “Oh-kaayyyyyy bossy pants.” You give him a mock salute before walking off. He smiles at you, relieved that your period hasn't ruined your sense of humour.

In the bathroom, you turn on the shower and let it wash away all your worries, sighing appreciatively at how good the hot water felt against you. Then you hear a knock. “Y/N? I brought you your stuff.” You momentarily turn off the shower and slightly open the door, to reveal Hobi holding out your clothes, his face promptly averted from the door. You retrieve them from his hand. “Thank you Hobi!” you say and move to close the door, but he stops you. “Wait! You didn't tell me which pad you wanted, and you didn't have any left in your supply either, so I just bought a pack in every variant from your usual brand.” He says, and holds out a bag filled with pad packs of varying types. You find yourself internally going awww at his thoughtfulness, and after picking out what you need, you call out to him. “Hobi?” “Yeah?” “You're the best.” “Aw, it's nothing, Y/N. Now go shower!” He says and runs off, leaving you giggling in his wake.

After a nice hot shower, you change into a comfy hoodie and shorts, feeling significantly better than you did before. But that exact moment your cramps decide to hit you. “Ughhhhh”, you lean against the wall with a groan. Jungkook, who just woke up, spots you and rushes to support you. “Y/N! What happened? Are you alright?” he asks concernedly, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to steady you. “nnnnghhh. Period. Cramps.” you manage to croak out. “Oh no, that sucks,” he says as he gingerly picks you up. “Where do you wanna go?” “Room” you say, and bury your face in his chest. He slowly walks to your room, gently placing you on your bed and tucking you tightly under the covers. As he turns to leave, you grab his hand. “Stay, please? I don't wanna be alone.” He gives you a reassuring smile as he lies down next to you, gently rubbing your back, lulling you slowly to sleep.

You wake up to someone softly pushing your hair out of your face. Blinking open your eyes, you realise it's Jimin. “Hey. Did I wake you up?” “Yeah, but I don't mind. What's the time?” “About 11, I guess.” He kisses your forehead softly. “How are you feeling now?” “A little better, but still sore.” Jimin looks at you sadly, bummed that he can't do anything that'll make your pain go away. But he can distract you from it.

“I brought you something.” He holds out a box that you recognise as one from your favourite bakery. Your eyes light up in delight. “Hobi hyung told me you didn't have breakfast, so I got you your favourite black forest cake.” He opens the box and picking off a piece with a fork, he offers it to you. You eagerly open your mouth and chew it, suddenly realising that you were hungry. He feeds you about two pieces before declaring that was enough or else you wouldn't eat lunch. He wipes away the cake crumbs from your lips and grins widely at the content smile on your face. “What are you grinning at?” you ask him. “Nothing, it's just…. I like seeing you smile.” You blush and duck your head, feeling shy. “I love you, Chim.” you mumble softly. “I love you too, Y/N-ah.” He brings his forehead to yours, booping your nose softly with his.

“Y/N? Are you awake?” You recognise Tae’s voice. “Come in!” Taehyung shuffles into the room, looking uncharacteristically hesitant. Before he could say anything, you start, “Tae, I'm so sorry for snapping at you like that. I swear didn't mean to-” he cuts you off mid sentence by planting a soft kiss on your lips. “It's alright, Jungkookie told me. I understand. You don't have to apologise.” You shake your head. “I do, though. You were hurt and it's my fault. I feel bad about it. Can you forgive me, please?” He giggles, and pats your head. “There's nothing to forgive, silly. I'm not mad at you. I am claiming my cuddles though, Jungkook told me you let him hold you!” You chuckle, “Come here, you big baby.” He moves to get into the bed before stopping. “Oh crap, I forgot why I came here. Jin hyung told me to ask you if you wanna come for lunch or if he should bring it to you. What do you say?” You think for a moment before replying. “You know what, I'm kinda bored of sitting in my room. I'll come! Just gimme a few, I wanna make myself presentable.” Taehyung gives you a once-over. “What do you mean, presentable? You look pretty as always.” “Oh yeah, my ridiculous bedhead and baggy eyes are soooo pretty.” “I don't care, you still look pretty.” You realise he isn't just saying that to make you feel better, but rather that's how you look in his eyes, and your heart melts. “Okay fine, I'm coming. At least let me use the restroom.”

You trudge slowly through the house, Taehyung's hand around your back. Everyone else except Jin is already seated at the table, apparently waiting for you. Their concern is evident in their eyes, but they seem to be content with Taehyung walking with you, so they remain seated.

You settle down in your chair, which you find has some soft pillows placed on it. You look around the table to find Yoongi looking away as soon as you meet his eyes, cheeks turning just a little pink. You smile to yourself, not saying anything. At that moment, Jin comes from the kitchen, bringing out various dishes and sets them on the table, giving you a comforting smile. You catch a whiff of your favourite dishes: kimchi jjigae, samgyeopsal, japchae, fried chicken, along with a pint of chocolate ice cream. “Oh, Jin, you shouldn't have troubled yourself so much!” Jin just smirked. “What makes you think it’s for you? Maybe I just wanted to cook a nice meal.” You pout at him, which makes him chuckle. “Of course I was joking, Y/N-ie. They were specially made for you.” he says with a comforting smile. You sniff slightly, which didn't go unnoticed. Jin, after sitting next to you, places a hand over your thigh and gives it a soft squeeze as if to say, “You're never alone.” You push back the tears and give him a smile. He heaps a good amount of all the dishes on your plate, handing it to you with a wink. You immediately dig into the food, sighing at how delicious they are. “It's official. I think Jin might be my favourite. He surely knows the way to my heart.” you exclaim, only half-joking. You certainly didn't miss the way his ears turned a bright red, a telltale sign that he is flustered. The others pretend to clutch their chest in offence, and you just laugh at them.

After a wonderfully fulfilling lunch, you settle on the couch once more, only to groan when cramps hit you again. “Aish, why does it hurt so much?” you accidentally voice your thoughts out loud. Yoongi, who hears it, fetches some more pillows to place them around so that you can sit down more comfortably. Before you could tell him to sit with you, he walks off. You sigh softly, knowing that he isn't big on openly showing affection. You're surprised though, when you feel someone tap your shoulder, and turn around to find Yoongi. “Hey.” “Hey yourself.”

“I thought this might help with the pain, so I brought you this.” He hands you a hot water bottle. You smile at him, realising that he'd rather show you his love through his actions rather than just being all lovey-dovey. “Thank you, Yoongi.” You wrap your arms around his neck, at which he turns slightly pink, but he hugs you back all the same. “Can I sit with you for a while?” he asked, rubbing his neck. “I thought you'd never ask.” You pull him down onto the couch, leaning into his side.

A few hours later, after Yoongi left, saying that ‘his affection quota for the day has been deplenished’, you are staring into space, debating whether you should go back to bed, when Namjoon walks into the living room, holding a steaming cup of what seems to be chai, guessing from the aroma wafting towards you. “Hey! How come I'm the one who's sick, yet you're the one who gets chai? So not fair!” you say, giving him sad puppy dog eyes. You definitely didn't expect him to stop before you and hand you the cup. “If you had just waited a moment before jumping to conclusions, Y/N-ah, you would have realised that I made this chai for you!” Your eyes widen. “Are you telling me that, you, Kim Namjoon, cooked something, without setting the entire kitchen on fire?!” “Hey!” he looks chagrined, and gives you a soft punch on your arm. “Is that so hard to believe?” he asks. When you just raise your eyebrows in response, he relents. “Fiiiiine, I might have had a little help, but it was my idea, and I did do most of the work! And anyway, it's the thought that counts, right?” “....riiiight. I do appreciate the chai, though.” You take the cup from his hands and take a small, careful sip. “Ahhhh, you definitely did a good job Joon, I love it.” He flashes you his usual dimpled smile, which never fails to set your heart fluttering. You pat the seat next to you. “Sit with me?” “I will, but there's something I have to take care of first,” he says and walks away. You look after him quizzically, wondering what he could have meant.

Moments later, he returns with a couple of blankets, and your favourite book. He plops down next to you, and you automatically rest your head on his lap. He pulls the blankets around you, wrapping you like a burrito. Once he makes sure you're all settled, he starts reading the book out aloud. As much as you loved reading on your own, listening to Namjoon read, in his comforting voice, is something you never get tired of. He softly plays with your hair, just the way you like it, as he reads through the book. You purr like a content cat, feeling warm and satisfied, slowly falling asleep.

When you wake up, it's late in the evening, and you find yourself sandwiched comfortably between Hobi, on whose shoulder your head is resting, and Jin, who's softly massaging your feet. Yoongi and Namjoon are sprawled on either side of Jin and Hobi respectively, eyes glued to the television, but both their hands behind you. You look down to find Taehyung squished between your legs. I guess he claimed that cuddle after all. Jungkook and Jimin rest on either of your knees, fighting with Tae for space.

You look around at them and your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest because you don't know what you must have done in your previous life to find these seven men. You start sniffling without realising, and before long, tears start streaming down your face. Jin notices and immediately wipes away your tears, looking concerned. “Love, what happened? Does it hurt too much?” The rest of the guys turn towards you immediately, their features etched with worry. “I know you usually avoid pills, Y/N, but do you need some right now? They could help.” Namjoon offers. “Maybe you just need another hot water bottle.” Yoongi moves to go to the kitchen but stops when you grab his wrist. “No, no, I feel good and all, it's not that. I'm just…so happy.”

“Eh? Why are you crying then?” Taehyung asks, confused. You sniff, unable to look at them. “It's just, you guys are so unbelievably sweet and loving! No one has ever taken such good care of me before, especially during my period, so I'm a bit overwhelmed, but in a good way. I just don't know what I did to deserve such amazing and wonderful, not one, but seven boyfriends. I don't even deserve you guys.” you start crying all over again.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Hobi rubs your shoulder soothingly. “Don't ever think that you're not worth all this, okay? You deserve everything, sunshine. You're the most beautiful, gentle, kind and caring person we've met, and frankly, we don't know how you manage to put up with all of our chaos!”

“Yes, Y/N, hyung is right! We are the lucky ones!” Jungkook exclaimed, giving you his doe eyes and bunny smile.

“We love you so much, Y/N-ah. Don't you ever forget that.” says Jimin, as he places a kiss on your thigh.

“I love you guys too. So much. You have no idea how much.”

“Oh, I think we have some idea,” Tae says, giving you his signature wink as you laugh and pull all of them into a huge cuddle. You close your eyes and savour the feeling of being surrounded by your loved ones, and thank your lucky stars for bringing them to you.

Quiet

Hobi x Reader

Summary: Just a lil blurb about Hobi realizing that it's okay to not always be his sunshiny self around you.

Warnings: not proofread

A/N: Thanks to @seleneacyoflove for requesting this, as well as the lovely anon who sent this headcanon! This is short and kinda eh, but I hope you’ll still like it💜

Masterlist

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Quiet was something that Hobi had learned to avoid over the years. Quiet was awkward, quiet meant concerned glances and inquiries. In his work, quiet meant stagnation. Even on his own, he had come to dread the silence.

But after weeks of packed schedules and non-stop traveling and rehearsals, fatigue had finally weighed him down enough that nothing could possibly compel him to move from the place where he’d spent the better part of the last hour, resting heavily against your side on the sofa, head on your shoulder while your hands traced absent-minded patterns on his skin.

The two of you hadn’t gotten to spend any time together in weeks, but mercifully, you had managed to match up your schedules so that you had an entire weekend together to catch up and reconnect.

Normally he would be bouncing off the walls with excitement; no work, no worries, just you and him and two days of freedom to do whatever you wanted. And although he was happy to finally have time with you, he was so unbelievably tired that he found himself drifting, unable to find the energy to add much to your conversation throughout dinner, just quietly basking in the comforting rhythm and cadence of your voice.

Eventually though, you fell quiet as well, letting silence settle over the two of you as you cuddled together watching tv, his eyes on the screen but not taking in anything that was going on, his mind wandering further as a faint sense of guilt began to swirl in his stomach.

“I’m sorry.” He suddenly said in a quiet voice.

You looked down at him, confused. “For what?”

“For not being here.” He said, playing with your fingers as he avoided your eyes.

You intertwined your hand with his, stilling his movements.

“You are here.” You said gently.

He shook his head. “Not properly, not how I want to be.”

He was always known as everyone’s sunshine, their energy, their hope. But at moments like this, when he was so drained and distant, he felt like he was letting you down.

He was pulled from that train of thoughts by the feeling of your lips against his cheek, glancing up to meet your gaze, your face full of understanding.

“That’s okay. Everyone needs quiet time, there’s nothing wrong with that.” You said. “I don’t mind being like this with you.”

And in a way, it was such a simple statement, but the sense of relief that it caused to wash over him was so profound, it was like he could breathe properly for the first time in he didn’t know how long, his whole body relaxing back against you, letting his head slowly droop to rest on your shoulder again.

You were still looking at him with a small smile. “Is there anything you need me to do? Do you want to just go on to bed?”

He shook his head, snuggling closer to you.

“Can we stay here?” He asked. “At least for a little longer?”

“We can stay here as long as you want.” You replied, letting your fingers resume their previous activity, tracing tiny designs along his arm.

“Thank you.” He whispered, the silence that surrounded the two of you for once not feeling suffocating to him. Instead, it felt comforting, like slipping into bed at the end of a long day. It felt peaceful, safe.

“Anytime, baby.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters

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. ♡

the truth untold. 📲 || JHS

=====================

synopsis: your online friend hoseok gets bullied at school for his looks. you visit him (even if he begged you not to) to attempt at stopping his bullies. something bad happens on your way to him...

genre: angst, platonic love

pairing: f!reader x student hoseok

warnings: bullying, swearing, mentions of d3@th, suggestive su1c1d3

a/n: i almost cried while making this and btw jungkook is a jerk in this one (jin and rm too)

if anyone's wondering: socmed = social media 😁

📲: @haecien

damnn Jiminnn a little cheater 😩

one time thing; 02 | pjm

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜; What are you going to do when your best friend asks you to have a sex with her boyfriend?

𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: strong language, mature content

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 6.7k

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05

𝚖.𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 / 𝚔𝚘-𝚏𝚒

© 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐 (𝒏𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅)

Saying things got awkward is understandable. As much as you assured Mina that everything’s fine. It’s been two weeks since your last encounter with Jimin and you haven’t seen him since. You’ve been avoiding him — even it wasn’t like he was looking for you. You still had your art class together but you always stuffed your face with books or looked straight ahead of you, not bothering to look sideways in case he was there. Humiliation was making its way out as soon as you left Jimin’s place. The fact that you did something like this made you feel so humiliated. The worst thing about it is you liked it. You liked Jimin’s skin on yours and you couldn’t stop thinking about it. You felt sick to your stomach feeling like you’ve betrayed your best friend. The best thing you could do was avoiding not only to Jimin, but Mina as well. She texted you later in the night asking how it went. What did she want to hear?

Yeah, our sex went absolutely amazing and I loved every second of it.

Keep reading

‼️ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ ‼️ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ʀᴇᴄꜱ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ʀɪꜱᴋ. ‼️

────── 𝙇𝙚𝙚 𝙈𝙞𝙣𝙝𝙤 ⏾ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

𝖙he experience project – @leeknowsallyoursecrets

𝖉omino - romantic_ghostwriter on ao3

𝖆banb alternate chtp 18 smut scene - @doitforbangchan

───── 𝙃𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝙃𝙮𝙪𝙣𝙟𝙞𝙣 𖦹 ⊹ ࣪ ˖

𝖛elvet opiate [hyunjin] – @hh0320 [ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ]

𝖘iren [hyunjin] - @moonlinos

────── 𝘾𝙝𝙤𝙞 𝙔𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙟𝙪𝙣 ♥︎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

𝖔uija – @wolfytae-exe [ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ]

11:58 p.m. [ft. taehyun] — @agustdiv1ne

𝖐inktober day 4 [ft. jungkook] – @vernon-s-whore

𝖒aster yeonjun – @minhavn

𝖈atgirls are ruining my life! – @heartthrobchoi

𝖏ust for tonight? – @koqabear

𝖎 said “why won’t you forget?” [ft. beomgyu] – @hh0320 [ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ]

𝖍eaven and back – @fallinforgyu

𝖗elease me – themoonlightfae on ao3

𝒪𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝓈 ✧˖°. ˚✦ .  ˚ ────

𝖌rave (book 2): ribbon & rope [yoongi] – heartbeatan on ao3

𝖙ransference [hoseok] - dark_muse_iris on ao3

𝖕erverted bunny mask [jungkook] - btsinned on ao3 [ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ]

𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙪𝙥𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙: 𝙨𝙚𝙥 15𝙩𝙝 2024 — 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙥𝙥𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙚 𝙖𝙢𝙖𝙯𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨 <3

Unless It's You | BTS

Summary: Elitist Academy is exactly what it sounds like: an academy that focuses on teaching students from elite classes of the magic community. When Y/N is thrown into the academy to learn alongside 8 men, she realises she’ll have to learn to work with them, whether she likes it or not.

Pairing: Reader x OT7 (Choose Your Own)

Genre: Magic School au, mystery, angst

Warnings: domestic abuse, additional warnings might be added as story progresses

A/N: Hey guys, new story here (but not rlly iykyk). This story will be a little different in the sense that it will be a choose your own member story where you'll be choosing who Y/N ends up with. The choice system should be pretty straight forward but I'll explain when the time comes just in case. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

Chapter Index:

Intro | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | ongoing...

Introduction

Summary: Elitist Academy is exactly what it sounds like: an academy that focuses on teaching students from elite classes of the magic community. When Y/N is thrown into the academy to learn alongside 8 men, she realises she’ll have to learn to work with them, whether she likes it or not.

Pairing: Reader x OT7 (Choose Your Own)

Genre: Magic School au, mystery, angst

Warnings: domestic abuse, additional warnings might be added as story progresses

Kim Seokjin:

Kim Namjoon:

Min Yoongi:

Jung Hoseok:

Park Jimin:

Park Cheonsa:

Kim Taehyung:

Jeon Jungkook:

<< masterlist || next chapter >>

Chapter 1: Pilot

Summary: Elitist Academy is exactly what it sounds like: an academy that focuses on teaching students from elite classes of the magic community. When Y/N is thrown into the academy to learn alongside 8 men, she realises she’ll have to learn to work with them, whether she likes it or not.

Pairing: Reader x OT7 (Choose Your Own)

Genre: Magic School au, mystery, angst

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: domestic abuse, additional warnings might be added as story progresses

University sucked. 

It hadn’t even started yet, but you could already tell what your fate at this new school would be. You stood in the front courtyard, staring at the building in front of you while its gleaming 24-karat gold gates blocked you from making the escape you so desperately desired. An enormous clocktower cast a shadow on your form, embellished to the tip with rich architecture and topped with a long, probably gold, spire. Even the grass you stood on was lush and cut to perfection, no blemish in sight. 

You weren’t a fan. 

Everything in your vicinity screamed of pride, yet you saw nothing to be proud of. Just the elite trying to flaunt their wealth in each other’s faces, desperate to be seen as the most affluent. You’d witnessed this game so much growing up, that the glittering golds and sparkling reds did nothing to faze you anymore. 

What you truly wished for was to be anywhere but here, in this courtyard full of students you would have to learn alongside starting today. Coming to this school was no decision of your own and you hated being forced into things. 

But… a part of you couldn’t help thinking that maybe this was better. You knew that ultimately it was your tragic mood that was dampening your outlook on this school and, although it wasn’t exactly the best place in the world for you, it was definitely better than what you had before. Maybe you should be grateful for being thrown here, a place that finally allowed you to get away from-

“Hah!”

Your thoughts came to a sudden halt as you heard the sound of a new commotion brewing amongst a small group of students. At first, you thought they were just noisily playing around, but once you took in the scene properly, you realised that you were wrong. 

A group of about three students stood a few metres away from you, laughing altogether as they pointed at something on the ground. They all wore the same uniform as the one you were wearing, with a mixture of maroon, brown, and off-white topped off with a gold emblem in the shape of the academy’s logo pinned to their chest. 

When your gaze dropped, you noticed a guy lying on the floor between them, his arms propping himself into a sitting position as his eyes stayed fixed on the floor. He was also in the academy’s uniform, with a light brown fringe that did a poor job of hiding a pair of bright purple eyes. The rest of his hair was covered by a maroon beanie, as if he were trying to hide as much of himself as possible. Aside from that, you could only make out the slope of his nose and plush lips. 

You waited for the guy, who had clearly been pushed to the ground, to get back up and give them a piece of his mind. But instead he stayed put, with his head held low and gaze straying from the eyes of the group of three towering over him. His apparent shyness only made the students laugh more as they realised he probably wasn’t going to retaliate. 

The sigh that escaped your lips was heavy. You’d think university-aged students would act a little more mature and not like high school bullies who shoved kids in lockers for fun. But then again, these kids were the children of the elite and wealthy. It’s not like they’d be getting taught any great lessons from their families…

You debated if you should step in and tell them off. The guy didn’t seem like he was going to start defending himself and the students clearly weren’t going to stop after realising that. Everyone else seemed engrossed in their own conversations as they waited for the first class’ bell to go off. Which left you as his only hope. 

If you were being entirely honest with yourself, you didn’t want to. People like him deserved a little misery from time to time and, if he wasn't even going to stand up for himself, why should you?

But being a bystander would only make you as bad as them, and as annoyed as you were by the guy, you didn’t want to be a bully. 

Reluctantly, you took a step towards them. The student closest to you was a girl, clearly a foreigner, with long blonde hair and light greyish-brown eyes. She stood a step behind a guy with dark brown hair, while another boy with lighter brown hair laughed alongside him. 

You decided to confront the dark-haired guy. 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Despite your gaze, which had been focused on the guy, the girl stepped forward, directing her haughty eyes at you. 

“Whatever I want? Who the hell are you?” She jabbed, as if you were some fly that needed to be swatted. 

You couldn’t help but grimace. You didn’t want to start a fight with her considering it was clearly the guy that had pushed purple-eyes to the ground. But she seemed keen on being the one to answer, while the other two simply stared at both you and her in amusement. 

Or at least the light-haired guy was staring at the drama in amusement. The dark-haired one was staring at you differently, with his eyebrows pulled together and his gaze scanning your face. You couldn’t understand why he was staring at you so intently, as if he was confused or trying to remember something.

But before you could ask him about it, the guy’s eyes suddenly widened as if something had just struck him. You watched him sputter in disbelief, and then distress. 

“Wait… aren’t you…?”

He quickly turned towards the girl beside him, not even bothering to finish his sentence, “Hannah, we need to leave.”

“What?!” she screeched incredulously, “you’re going to let this stuck up brat tell us what to do?! You’re such a sorry excuse for a man, Jihoon!”

Despite the jab, Jihoon grabbed her arm, bowing towards you in the process.

“We are so sorry about this, please forgive us.”

He grabbed the other guy too and started dragging them both away, bickering relentlessly with a livid Hannah. 

“What the hell, Jihoon?! What are you, a coward?!”

“Shut up! Do you know who she is?! She could ruin our lives, idiot!”

“She’s just another student! What the hell could she possibly do?!”

“No Hannah… she’s-”

You watched the three disappear into the crowds of students milling around while you listened to their voices dissolve into the unintelligible conversations swimming through the courtyard. That left you and purple-eyes, whose position still hadn’t changed one bit despite the threat’s disappearance. 

“Did they hurt you anywhere?” You asked reluctantly, voice void of any real compassion.

Instead of answering, he wordlessly pushed himself off the floor, towering over you when he stood. His gaze stayed on the ground while his broad shoulders hunched slightly, as if he were trying to make himself smaller than he was. But even after a few seconds passed, his lips didn’t open. He simply continued to stare at the ground.

“Seriously?” You couldn’t help after a few beats of silence, “I just helped you and you’re not even going to say anything?”

You weren’t exactly expecting him to throw you a party and kiss the floor you walk on, you would hate to have that from him anyway, but not even a simple thank you? Was he really just going to stand there and ignore your presence?

Apparently so. He continued to stare at the ground, almost looking like he wanted it to swallow him whole. 

You scoffed, mostly unsurprised by his lack of decency. Every day you were reminded that they were all the same, every last one of them. So were you really expecting him to be any different? You should have never involved yourself in the first place. Just standing here now was clearly a waste of your time. 

So instead you turned on your heel and walked away, both grateful and annoyed when the sound of the bell rang across the courtyard.

He continued to stand in the same spot as he watched you leave angrily, guilt eating away at him with every step you took.

I’m sorry, he thought.

I’m so so sorry.

-

-

-

“Welcome to History of Magic 101. My name is Ms. Kari and I will be this year’s Professor.”

Ms. Kari continued to introduce herself to the class as you sat quietly in the lecture hall. She was dressed as professionally as a Professor would, with a knee-length black coat over a light grey knitted sweater, black dress pants, and black slip-on shoes. She let her blonde mid-length hair fall freely on her shoulders while her greyish-green eyes were framed by a pair of silver-wired glasses. It was clear she was a foreigner. 

Of course you knew all foreigners weren’t related, but distantly you still wondered if she was related to Hannah. 

The first day of classes were obviously filled with long and boring introductions, ones that you barely paid any interest to. So instead you let your gaze roam around the large hall, taking in the multiple students sitting alongside you curiously. There weren’t many, only around 20 from what you could guess. 

As you continued to check out the students, you caught sight of the guy from earlier, his maroon beanie standing out in the sea of varying hair colours. The view of his face was enough to make your blood simmer once again, so you quickly turned to the other side of the class. 

Unfortunately, that proved to be a worse decision as a more familiar face caught your attention. 

Kim Namjoon. 

You could recognise that dirty blonde hair, and even dirtier smirk, anywhere. His father was a good friend of your dad’s, so you were pretty well-acquainted at this point. The dude had the biggest god-complex you’d ever encountered and was an absolute sore to look at. Sure his face was half-decent, but the dirty blonde comb-over fade was like the cherry on top to his disaster of a personality. 

He seemed to be paying attention to the lecture intently as he fervently scribbled down the Professor’s words into a thick notebook. You wanted to laugh at his concentration. Did he really think focusing on an introductory lecture was going to help him in any way? How stupid of him.

“So in that case, can I get two volunteers? Don’t be shy, it’s only for a fun activity. I promise,” you caught the Professor ask near the end of her introduction.

You weren’t surprised when you watched Namjoon’s arm raise instantly. He may have been an arrogant jerk, but he was also the biggest suckup you’d ever met. You were sure it was why your father loved him so much. 

“Wonderful! Anyone else?” Professor Kari exclaimed, scanning the group of students. 

As annoying as goody-two-shoes here was… the teacher would definitely appreciate active participation on the first day of school. And as conflicted as you were about this place, you still had to do well here. 

So you raised your hand, earning a pleased smile from the Professor. 

“I’m so glad to see such initiative in the first year,” she exclaimed, “alright, please make your way onto the podium and face each other.”

You and Namjoon did as you were told, standing in front of each other as the Professor walked back to her desk and opened the drawer. Namjoon’s calculating gaze fell on you as he faced you with pure confidence. You could even see a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Hey Y/N,” he finally said in that conceited voice he always used, “it’s been a while.”

God was he annoying… But you smiled at the chance to destroy his ego. 

The Professor walked back from her desk, placing a big red button between the two of you. It hovered in the air, as if there were an invisible table under it. No doubt the doings of some kind of magic. 

“Now the activity is quite simple,” she explained, her eyes darting to the wall clock for a moment, “I will ask three simple questions related to the history of magic. Whoever presses the button first gets to answer the question and whoever answers two questions correctly gets extra credit. Is that understood?”

The two of you nodded eagerly as you felt the air fill with competitive tension. The rest of the students looked just as eager, focusing intently on the two of you as they wondered who of the pair would grab the winner’s title. 

“First question,” the Professor began, “how many times has the magic community been discovered by non-magic users?”

A smirk tugged at your lips as you managed to smash the button first, loving the way Namjoon’s expression immediately morphed into frustration.

“In the past, the magic community has been discovered three times: once in 1782, then again in 1820, and then lastly in 1999. Each time, the magic community was able to purge the memories of the non-magic users to make sure the magic community remained a secret once again.”

The Professor's eyes lit up at your explanation, “that’s correct! I’m impressed that you know the dates as well!”

A small smirk played at your lips as you stared smugly at Namjoon, who simply rolled his eyes in response. Professor Kari, completely oblivious to your charades, continued.

“Moving onto the next question: when was the famous Tree of Life first discovered?” She asked. 

Your hand moved rapidly, only to stall when Namjoon’s fist slammed onto the button before you could. It was his turn to smirk now, and he wasted no time in sending one your way. 

“The Tree of Life is known to be an enormous source of magic and was discovered by Park Bogum in 1738.” he answered quickly. He didn’t need any confirmation as to whether he was right or not, he was already well aware of his accuracy.

“I must say, my expectations for this class have definitely risen because of the two of you. I wasn’t expecting such precise answers,” she said, a little surprised, “but with the class almost ending, we should probably move onto the last question.”

The last question… you had to get this one if you wanted to win against Namjoon because there was no way you were going to lose to this smug bastard. His face revealed equal determination to yours, though his may have been just slightly placated by his arrogance. You bet he didn’t even think he could lose, much less was going to. 

Your classmates all leaned forward in their seats, eager to discover who would break the tie despite the fact that you barely even knew them. The tension had clearly thickened, and only one of you would be leaving this place with bragging rights. 

“When was Elitist Academy created, and for what reason?”

<< intro || masterlist || next chapter >>

Chapter 2: Nothing Personal

Summary: Elitist Academy is exactly what it sounds like: an academy that focuses on teaching students from elite classes of the magic community. When Y/N is thrown into the academy to learn alongside 8 men, she realises she’ll have to learn to work with them, whether she likes it or not.

Pairing: Reader x OT7 (Choose Your Own)

Genre: Magic School au, mystery, angst

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: domestic abuse, additional warnings might be added as story progresses

“When was Elitist Academy created, and for what reason?”

A few students gasped as the sound of the button going off reverberated around the room, a moment of complete shock replacing the once tense atmosphere. It was like the silence after a storm, the room so quiet that you were sure a pin dropping would have been heard easily.

Slowly, your gaze dropped to your hand. Namjoon’s much larger palm was pressed against your own, which itself was pressed roughly against the bright red button. You smiled. 

Poor Namjoon… he really did put up a good fight. 

But this victory was yours. 

“Elitist Academy was built in 1740, two years after the discovery of the Tree of Life. It was built to protect the tree, as well as to teach the children of the elite to be respectful, humble, and kind members of the magic society,” you concluded. 

You may not have been as cocky as Namjoon, but you were sure of your answer. It would be your win today.

The Professor seemed pleased as she smiled and turned towards the class. 

“That is-”

“Incomplete!” Namjoon exclaimed, cutting the teacher off in his excitement. You watched him laugh smugly, clearly believing that your answer had been incorrect. 

“Excuse me?”

But Namjoon was undeterred as he crossed his arms over his chest, “Park Bogum also built this academy for his sons, so that they could learn magic in a formal and academic setting.”

You scoffed.

“That’s just a personal goal, it doesn’t count as one of the formal reasons for his decision.”

“Of course it counts. It was one of the goals and you didn’t state it. Therefore, you got the question wrong,” he spoke matter-of-factly. 

You could only blink incredulously, “you can’t be serious…”

Was he seriously going to be so petty? Namjoon was many things, but a sore loser was one thing you thought was beneath even him. Why was it so hard for men to just admit when they are clearly in the wrong? Their ego was so unimaginably large, especially the ego of the blockhead standing before you. 

“You lost,” you finally deadpanned, “just accept it.”

“How can you deem yourself the winner when you failed to correctly answer the question?” He stated again, this time a little annoyed, but now your patience was wearing just as thin.

“I did answer the question correctly! Personal goals don’t count in the official creation of the academy.”

Professor Kari stepped forward, “alright, why don’t we try to be a little civilised-”

“We are being civilised,” Namjoon said, turning towards Ms. Kari for a moment before turning back towards you. You already knew the look in his eyes, already knew to brace yourself for his next words.

“It’s the lack of intelligence that’s the issue here.”

“Intelligence?” You replied without skipping a beat, “no one with intelligence would willingly have hair that resembles a porcupine.”

You watched in satisfaction as his cocky face fell, an offended expression taking its place, “Wha- You’re going to attack my hair when you’ve got a mouth like that? I’d expect a little more class considering you’re literally the daughter of-”

“Enough.”

Professor Kari’s voice cut through your argument, a firmness to it that had even the other students sitting up a bit straighter. Her expression no longer held a warm and welcoming smile.

“The answer that was provided was enough to be counted as correct. But since you feel that it is not, I will grant both of you the extra credit,” she sighed, “and remind me to never do any competitive activities in this class again…”

The bell chimed throughout the classroom as she mumbled those last words to herself, while the students waited for the ringing to cease uncertainly, unsure if this was a “the bell doesn’t dismiss you, I do” class or not. Once the classroom quieted again, Professor Kari faced the students. 

“That will be all for today, class dismissed.”

You sent Namjoon a glare before walking off, pissed off at his immaturity. All he had to do was throw a small tantrum and the extra credits were served to him on a silver platter. It was infuriating.

Namjoon, on the other hand, simply matched your glare as he watched you practically storm out of the room.

So she has a few more brain cells than I expected, he thought.

That doesn’t mean she’s anywhere near my level.

-

-

-

You entered the main hall fuming, grateful that the lecture had come to an end and you could finally stop looking at his stupid face. Namjoon had always been a first class imbecile growing up, his cocky attitude mixed with an enormous ego tended to make it easy for him. But boy did he have his extraordinary moments.

You scanned the main hall, eager to get any thoughts of him out of your mind. It was huge, with maroon and gold banners lining the walls and a shiny creme-coloured marble floor. The walls encompassed different shades of rich mahogany with wonderfully carved designs and windows that showcased the lush green grass of the courtyard. But what really attracted attention was the centrepiece, the Tree of Life, which stood proudly underneath the stained glass, dome-shaped ceiling. Its branches spanned almost the entirety of the ceiling above you, and held vibrantly pink petals that seemed to glow under the natural light that entered through the stained glass above. 

It was beautiful.

“First years, please gather in the dining hall for a mandatory assembly in 10 minutes, thank you,” a voice suddenly announced through the intercom. 

The students, which had paused their conversations during the announcement, went back to talking and laughing with each other. The ones you assumed were first years, on the other hand, began searching the halls, clearly confused as to where the dining hall could be.

“Excuse me?” A voice behind you called.

You turned around to find two guys, one enthusiastically waving you over while the other’s gaze studied the Tree of Life nonchalantly. Reluctantly, you walked over to them.

“Hi, I’m Hoseok,” the one that had been waving to you spoke. 

His face, which consisted of soft cheeks but a sharp nose, held a bright smile that you almost felt was too bright. The only thing that dampened it a bit was his brown hair, which had messily been parted at the side. You suddenly recognised him as one of the students in the class you had just attended earlier. 

“You wouldn’t happen to know where the dining hall is, would you?” He continued, “this school is just one big maze to me, I swear.”

“Just go through those double doors over there and it’ll be the first door on your left,” you explained, pointing towards the giant pair of double doors on your right. There was a pause after your words, as if he was waiting for you to say something more.

When he realised you weren’t going to continue, he smiled again, “I see, thank you so much you’re a lifesaver.”

You turned away, ready to make your own way to the dining hall, but Hoseok stopped you with his hand.

“I don’t think I caught your name.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance.

What did this guy want?

“Y/N,” you said reluctantly, hoping he’d get the hint and leave you alone. 

Unfortunately, he did not.

“Y/N… that’s a pretty name,” he continued, ignoring your flat tone, “we were just in the same History of Magic 101 class. You seemed to know the subject pretty well if the competition was anything to go by.”

Did he really think flattery would get him anywhere with you? 

“Oh! I almost forgot,” he suddenly exclaimed, looking apologetic, “this is my friend, Taehyung. We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

He motioned towards the guy behind him, who had been scanning the room carelessly. At the mention of his name, his gaze finally fell on you. It felt… strange. His hair was messy and almost silver in colour while his skin seemed almost as white as snow. But it was his eyes that uncharacteristically drew you in for a moment. Despite being sharp and unwelcoming, they were a piercing blue colour that seemed to draw goosebumps from your arms. The more you stared at them, the more you felt… chilly. As if there were a thin sheet of ice covering your skin. 

For a moment, you believed it was because you felt intimidated by him. But then your gaze dropped to your hands and your eyes widened at the faint layer of frost coating your skin. 

“What the-” You muttered incredulously. 

Hoseok, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow, “Taehyung…”

Taehyung turned his head and the chills suddenly vanished, replaced instead with the feeling of melted ice trickling down your arms. 

“Don’t mind him, he’s a little intimidated by strangers,” Hoseok said, a bright smile still very much apparent on his face, “but once you get to know him, he’s a great friend.”

“If you get to know him,” Taehyung corrected flatly, his piercing gaze back on you for a moment. 

You scoffed internally. He must think so high and mighty of himself with that attitude, yet the only thing it made him was a jerk. 

“Well, it was really nice meeting you, Y/N,” Hoseok chuckled, as if Taehyung had told a funny joke, “I hope we can be friends.”

He held out his hand towards you, clearly waiting for a handshake. You couldn’t tell what his intentions were, whether he was looking to start some kind of friendship or something more. But either way it only took you a second to make up your mind. 

Instead, you shrugged your bookbag onto your shoulder…

 and then wordlessly walked away.

Surprised, Hoseok watched you disappear behind the giant double doors without so much as a glance backwards.

“Was it… something I said?” He asked.

“Not everyone is interested in being friends,” Taehyung said, his tone a lot more thawed than earlier. 

“Let’s get going, the assembly will start soon.”

-

-

-

Thankfully the assembly had gone by pretty quickly, saving you from having to listen to a long and boring speech from the academy’s principal. He had mostly just gone over all the basics, like obvious rules and regulations. Despite the academy being for the spoiled children of the elite, the rules seemed pretty strict in your opinion. Now whether the punishments for breaking those rules would actually be applied or not remained to be seen. 

After the assembly, you wandered through the residences to look for your dorm room. If you were reading your documents right, it should be on the top floor in room 308. So you walked through the halls of the top floor, taking in the large off-white planters filled with ghost white flowers and the luxurious mini chandeliers that lined the hallway. Similar to the main hall, shades of mahogany coated the walls while the marble floor was covered in a plush, maroon carpet. 

You finally came to a stop in front of your room, taking in the dark brown wooden door and gold handle. With the exhausting day you had endured, you wasted no time in turning the knob.

Your room, to no one’s surprise, was enormous. 

You stood in what seemed like the living room, with high ceilings that held a huge chandelier and a carpet coating most of the wooden floor. A bookshelf spanning an entire wall stood to one side, filled to the brim with various books, while another wall was entirely made up of glass to showcase a view of the city. In the middle of the room, a sofa atop a plush carpet faced the glass wall while a TV stood between them. You could make out two small hallways on either side of the room, no doubt leading to the kitchen and the bedroom. The size of the living room may not have surprised you, but the grandeur of it definitely did.

Was this really all for you? 

You walked into one of the hallways that led to two doors, curiously peering inside one of them. Unlike the living room, it was a simple bedroom with a generic wooden floor, desk, and bed. The academy probably expected you to magic the room to your liking so that it was more personal. 

You walked out of your bedroom and turned to the other door, curious as to what it could be. There was already a bathroom and closet attached to your bedroom, so maybe it was just another closet? You turned the handle to find out. 

“Oh!” 

You startled at the sight of a man who seemed to have been making his way to the door. His hair was dirty blonde and neatly parted, while his lips were pillowy and plush. His eyes were a sparkling blue, not as bright and icy as Taehyung’s had been, but still intense in their own way. Your gaze dropped from his equally surprised face to his uniform, coming to the realisation that he was a student. 

Who on Earth was this guy…?

You looked over his shoulder to see a bedroom identical to yours, with the same simple desk, bed and floor. Why was there another bedroom in this dorm if you were supposed to live here alone?

“You scared me,” the man chuckled, giving you an apologetic look, “you must be my roommate, Han Y/N? I’m Park Jimin, it’s nice to meet you.”

The word “roommate” had your gaze snapping back to him. 

“Roommate?” You repeated incredulously, “what do you mean roommate? I thought the dorms were individual?”

Jimin shook his head, “no, we share the dorm rooms in pairs. Something about creating profound friendships and whatnot?”

Honestly speaking, you didn’t really mind having a roommate. Living in this enormous dorm by yourself seemed lonely anyway. The problem was, why was he your roommate?

“Okay, but how can we be roommates? You’re a guy and I’m a girl…?”

“What difference does that make?” He asked as his head tilted slightly,“in the world of magic, no gender is stronger than the other. We are equal in the face of power, are we not?”

As correct as he was, being compared to someone like him in any way had you irritated. You were nothing like the man standing before you, who was likely hiding his many evils behind a pretty smile and kind words. You wondered what kind of evil you would have to endure this year from him, because ultimately you really were stuck with him for the rest of the year. 

Yet even so, you weren’t going to let him hurt you. He could try all he wanted once he finally showed his true face, but you’ll be ready to deal with him the same way you’ve always dealt with the others. You’d never let someone like him walk all over you. 

Never.

“Whatever,” you finally said, tired and annoyed by the new turn of events and especially your helplessness within it all, “just stay out of my way, I have no interest in people like you.”

Jimin watched you lock yourself in your room with a surprised expression on his face, unsure of why you’d looked so angry. 

“People like you…?” He muttered. 

What did she mean by that?

-

-

-

You threw yourself onto your bed with a frustrated sigh, annoyed by today’s events-or rather today’s people. You hated that guy that got bullied this morning. You hated Namjoon. You hated Hoseok and Taehyung. You hated Jimin. 

But really…

You just missed your mom. 

You knew you sounded like a child saying it, but it was true. A rotten feeling had been eating at your heart ever since you left your home and arrived at this school. A part of you felt like you had left her behind, and being alone in that house… with him…?

She must have been miserable at this moment, all alone. You felt like a horrible daughter to do that to her, but what other choice did you have? Ultimately, you were helpless in front of-

“Y/N?!” Jimin’s voice suddenly exploded from what seemed like the living room. 

Your eyebrows furrowed at his tone, which sounded demanding and urgent. So he finally decided to reveal his true colours? Yelling for you as if you were some kind of servant that was made to tend to his needs. If he was one of those men that will make you do all the chores in this dorm,

you were going to beat him to death with a frying pan. 

You pushed yourself off your bed angrily, storming out of your room and into the living room. If a piece of your mind was what he wanted, then a piece of your mind he would get.

“Okay listen up, Park Jimin,” you said angrily, “I thought I told you t-”

You came to an abrupt stop at the doorway of the living room, eyes widening at the scene in front of you. 

On the ground was Jimin, with his eyes closed and motionless. But the rest of the room was empty and entirely untouched. Why was he passed out on the floor? 

Did he have a heart attack or something…?

“Oh my god,” you panicked, running towards him. You had no clue how to handle a medical emergency like that. Sure you may not have liked him, but that didn’t mean you wanted him dead. 

You started to shake him, trying to get him to wake up, “Jimin-?”

A hard object suddenly slammed into the back of your head, causing stars to burst in your line of sight as you fell to the floor, finding yourself in the spot next to Jimin. The pain was unbearable, as if your entire skull was imploding in on itself. You had to blink a few times to get your bearings and keep yourself awake. 

The sound of footsteps made you turn around, but you could only take in a pair of gold and black school-issued shoes. Your headache and blurry vision prevented you from looking up any further. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but the person snapped his wand forward, slamming your lips shut immediately. 

“Sorry, but we won’t be having any of that,” they said. 

Damnit.

How were you going to get out of this if you couldn’t speak?

Your head suddenly began to throb even more painfully, probably from the hit it had taken earlier. You could feel black spots begin to invade your vision as you started to blackout. 

The person’s shoes thudded against the floor once again, getting closer and closer to your helpless form. From your blurry vision, you could only make out long blonde hair. 

“Sorry kid,” the person said, but his voice felt far away. You felt your eyes close and your mind shut down, but not before one last sentence. 

“It’s nothing personal.”

<< previous chapter || masterlist || next chapter >>

Chapter 4: The Evil Twin

Summary: Elitist Academy is exactly what it sounds like: an academy that focuses on teaching students from elite classes of the magic community. When Y/N is thrown into the academy to learn alongside 8 men, she realises she’ll have to learn to work with them, whether she likes it or not.

Pairing: Reader x OT7 (Choose Your Own)

Genre: Magic School au, mystery, angst

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: domestic abuse, additional warnings might be added as story progresses

A/N: A bit of a longer chapter this time! Unfortunately I won't be able to post another chapter in a while because I have my exams currently, but I should be free by the end of the month! Until then I'll probably post more for The Crab Cult since I've already got a few chapters in the drafts lmao

Taglist: @florabloomgirly @shawtylilsalty

“Guess again, princess.”

Guess again…? What was that supposed to mean?

The man standing before you was clearly Jimin. But how had he managed to dye his dirty blonde hair into a rich purple in a matter of minutes? How had he managed to change his bright blue eyes into a menacing dark red? Did he magic himself to change his appearance? But why would he even do that in the first place?

Questions upon questions started to pile into your mind, only adding to your confusion, until a single memory bulldozed the pile to the ground. 

‘Wait! You have to tell me,’ Jungkook had gasped, ‘is it true you have an evil twin? I’ve heard so many rumours about it. And I swear I saw this guy that looked just like you in class earlier!’

Jungkook’s words, which had been disregarded as silly rumours at the time, suddenly came to mind as the realisation dawned on you. 

Perhaps his words weren’t as silly as you thought. 

Your gaze raised to the man standing before you, studying him before you spoke slowly.

“You wouldn’t happen to be Jimin’s evil twin, would you?”

The man paused, his eyes just barely widening for a moment before he laughed. It was a chilling sound, scattering goosebumps all over your arms as it bounced against the walls of the dim, empty hall. While Taehyung’s gaze had felt icy and unwelcoming, this man’s laugh felt like a deadly warning. 

“Evil twin?” He repeated once the laugh had tapered off, tone now laced with apathetic amusement, “no one has ever said that to my face before.”

He studied your form for a moment, gaze travelling from your uniform to the wand in your hand to your features before finally raising to meet yours once again. 

“Judging from your lack of trembling, you’re either wildly ignorant…”

The evidently fake amusement suddenly vanished from his face as he took a step forward, leaving just a breath’s worth of space to lay between you both. You could feel the edge of your uniform brush against his own as you felt your chest rise in irritation. 

“Or you’re extremely dumb,” he finished, his voice low and simmering alongside his unwavering eyes. 

His desire to intimidate you was as clear as day. 

But you would not be so easily intimidated, so instead you met his gaze confidently as you forced your expression to remain unfazed. Who did he think he was to send you a hidden threat? Principal’s son be damned, he would learn what happens when you’re pushed to your limit. 

You brought your hand to his clothed chest before giving him a forceful shove, hoping to create some distance between the two of you. He didn’t move as much as you would have liked, barely half a step at the most. 

“I’m neither, so I suggest you stop throwing words like that around so carelessly. Do you even know who I am?”

You regretted the words the second they had left your lips, cringing as you realised how they might have sounded. They implied that you were like every other elitist here, hiding behind your parents’ money and power. But that had not been what you meant.

Unfortunately, Jimin’s brother didn’t seem to realise that. 

He gasped dramatically, bringing his hands to his mouth as his voice dripped in sarcastic fear, “oh my, you’re right! I should know my place shouldn’t I?”

That earned him a roll of your eyes.

“Tell me, which mommy and daddy will put me behind bars if I speak to their princess badly, hm?”

“I’m not talking about my parents,” you snapped, irritated by his condescending tone, “it’s me you should be worried about.”

A scoff sounded at the back of his throat, as if you had said something unbelievable. You hated how annoyed that made you, so much so that you were ready to end this conversation and head to your room.

“Whatever,” you said, gaze momentarily taking in the bright moon standing proudly outside the hall’s window, “what are you doing here in the dead of night?”

Jimin’s twin crossed his arms over his chest as he raised a challenging brow, “and how is that any of your business?”

“It’s my school,” you deadpanned, “if you’re about to blow it to bits, I’d like to at least be aware that a celebration is in order. Now care to explain?”

The ends of lips twitched, “you know I could ask you the same. What are you doing here all by yourself, at a time like this?”

“Do you always answer questions with another question?”

“Do you always ask so many questions?”

The both of you stared each other down, yours a seething glare while his was filled with cocky amusement. You seemed to have met your match when it came to stubbornness, and you had to admit you were far from amused. 

“Is this a twin thing?” You spoke sharply, “you’re a complete jerk while your brother is just slightly more tolerable?”

You noticed his amusement vanish at your words, leaving behind a hard expression that tore through your gaze. You got the feeling that he was thrown off by something you had said. 

“... slightly more tolerable?” He repeated slowly, eyes calculatingly sharp all of a sudden, “ that’s not usually how people describe my dear old brother.”

“I called you a jerk too, which last time I checked was much worse,” you remarked, not understanding his suddenly excessive interest. 

“Did you hurt Seokjin?” 

The randomness of the question had caught you so off guard that you couldn’t stop yourself from blurting out a stupid, “what?”

You didn’t understand the connection between calling him a jerk, calling Jimin tolerable, and hurting Seokjin. Whatever was going on in the mind of the man before you, you couldn’t possibly tell. 

“Jimin is only rude to people that hurt Seokjin,” Jimin’s brother explained, still harbouring a lethal gaze, “if you hurt Jin, and Jimin was rude to you, it would explain why you’re not a fan of him.”

“What does that ev-”

“I asked a question,” he said sharply while cutting you off, “one I’m expecting an answer to.”

Despite the fact that he had interrupted you and his tone had become threatening again, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be angry. All you could do was stare at him with a confused expression, wondering where this conversation had gone. 

“No,” you answered finally, “I didn’t hurt Seokjin. I hate your brother because he’s annoying. That’s all.”

“I see,” he said, lost in thought for a moment before the amusement sunk back into his features. This dude was going to give you whiplash at this point, “in that case, you seem to have caught my attention, princess.”

“Am I supposed to be honoured?” You scoffed, “I could care less what you think of me.”

“I’ve already wasted more than enough time with you here anyway. Blow up the school, don’t blow up the school, I don’t care. Just stay away from me.”

You turned around and started walking away, but not before adding for good measure, “or you’ll regret it.”

Jimin’s brother watched you walk away curiously, a thought lingering at the back of his mind. You had just pushed against one of the heavy doors when he turned and crouched in front of the Tree of Life. 

A soft bang, reverberated around the hall, causing you to pause in your escape and face him once again. You were met with the view of Jimin’s brother bent over the floor. 

Except, the floor was no longer the pristinely smooth marble tiles organised throughout the area. Instead, a large tile had been pushed upwards, almost like a trap door. You moved closer, peering deeper to find a set of stairs travelling downward, directly under the Tree of Life.

Your gaze flitted to Jimin’s brother, who was staring into the deep abyss thoughtfully.  

“They say this trap door leads to an ancient and long since abandoned lab that used to belong to Park Bogum, the creator of Elitist Academy,” he said, “you must know about the rumours surrounding him…”

“Regarding his affiliations with Counterbalance.”

You paused, cautiously taking in his words.

Most people lazily referred to Counterbalance as dark or black magic, but that was an overly simplified term to describe a thing that was much more complex. While Life magic was the magic that essentially sustained the world, Counterbalance was the magic that countered it to keep it in check. Sure, that inherently didn’t make Counterbalance evil in itself, but the magic had been associated with so many horrible things that have happened in the past that some have made the association anyway. 

“How do you know that? Why do you know that?” You asked.

“Why?” He countered, pushing himself off the ground to face you, “are you scared?”

“It’s dark magic. If you’re not scared, you’re just stupid.”

Jimin’s brother gave you a devilish grin, one that you found both irritating and unnerving at the same time, before he stepped towards you. The two of you were close once again.  

“Wanna come with me?” 

You gave him an incredulous look, “did you not hear what I just said? There’s a reason why attempting to manipulate Counterbalance is forbidden.”

“Yes, the reason being cowardice,” Jimin’s brother said with a scowl, “dark magic is simply a different type of magic we’re not yet familiar with. If we keep hiding from it, we’ll always cower in its shadow.”

“So tell me, are you coming or not?”

He was crazy. It was the only explanation you could come up with to explain why he seemed so interested in potentially entering a Counterbalance lab. And as much as you pitied the insane, you were not going to let them lead you by example.

“Forget it,” you said immediately, stepping away from him, “if we get caught, we could actually get expelled.”

And then I’ll have to go back there.

“Do whatever you want. I’m leaving.”

You turned around and stormed towards the door to the residences but, just like last time, you only managed to push the giant door open before you paused. 

Technically speaking, you’ve only ever read about Counterbalance magic very briefly in a few textbooks here and there, while your tutors would barely even mention the topic if at all. Yet, here Jimin’s brother was, giving you a first-hand opportunity to look at an entire dark magic lab?

This was a once in a lifetime experience.

You hated just how curious these things could make you sometimes, especially knowing the horrors that have been caused by misusing Counterbalance. The stuff shouldn’t be messed with, history had taught that lesson enough times. 

But… one little look couldn’t hurt, could it?

It’s not like you were actually going to try to manipulate dark magic, you knew that would be crossing an unspeakable limit. But what harm could just looking around to satisfy your curiosity do?

Very slowly, you detached yourself from the double-doors and walked back to the Tree of Life, trying your absolute best to ignore the smirk Jimin’s brother had on his face as he eyed you. 

“Changed your mind?” He asked innocently, failing miserably at hiding his smug expression.

“Shut up.”

He chuckled.

“Okay, okay,” he said, turning towards the trapdoor.

“Let’s get going.”

-

-

-

It was clear the walls making up the passageway were the roots of the Tree of Life. You could feel the familiar rough texture of its bark as you descended the spiralling staircase behind Jimin’s brother cautiously, ready to bolt if he tried anything. You obviously didn’t trust him fully, unsure of the exact reason why he had invited you along. But you didn’t bother asking knowing that he probably wouldn’t have given you an actual answer anyway. 

Instead you continued to feel your way down the pitch black space, focusing on not tripping, though the thought of Jimin’s brother falling because of you put a satisfied smile on your face. 

A few minutes later the passageway opened up into a large cavern, the walls still clearly made of bark. But the bark was different, with a dark brownish, blackish colour that made it seem like it was rotting. 

To your left, carved into the wall of bark, was an array of bookshelves holding a number of leatherbound and worn books, while to your right stood a long table full of various lab equipment and trinkets. You scanned a wooden test tube rack holding four vials filled halfway with a glowing turquoise substance and a tray filled with a number of oddly coloured and shaped stones. A large textbook was sprawled next to it, open to a page depicting a number of trees followed by blocks of text. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. 

Next to the table was a large cauldron, filled to the brim with the same glowing turquoise liquid in the vials, bubbling atop a flame. Brows furrowed, you brought your hand over the raging orange and maroon fire, confirming your suspicion: the flame had been magicked to only heat the cauldron. With everything being wood in the room, it was a wise choice. The sides of the cauldron were dusty as well. 

Your gaze shifted back to Jimin’s brother, who was scanning the room just as curiously as you had been. His eyes missed nothing as they jumped from one small detail to the next. 

“Well?” You said. 

“Well what?”

“What do you mean well what? Didn’t you come down here for a reason?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “that’s none of your business.”

You watched him turn away to pick up one of the books on the long table. He was the one that had brought you down here for who knows what reason, what was the point of being so secretive? You were going to see whatever he was down here for anyway. 

Jimin’s brother set the book down, moving onto the vials in the test tube rack. He gently picked one up with his hand, and it was only then when you realised that they were gloved. Brown cloth gloves with golden rims encased both his hands while reaching a little above his wrists, a marked difference in uniform compared to the rest of the student body. Was he a germaphobe or something?

He turned to the rest of the things scattered around the table, shuffling through them. It didn’t take a detective to know that he was clearly looking for something. 

But then again, what did it matter to you? You weren’t here to help him, so you turned around and went back to inspecting the other side of the room. Whoever had been studying in this lab seemed to have a special affinity for plants. There were plant specimens everywhere. Samples of different types of tree bark were hung on the wall in a frame with writing giving the descriptions of the trees they had come from, while another table separated by a movable partition held a number of different plant roots that had been dissected like a cadaver. You’d never been very interested in botany, so the evident obsession with plants had kind of dampened your interest in the place. 

Once you had finished searching the area, finding nothing but more and more botanic experiments, you turned to Jimin’s brother in disappointment. 

“I’m not seeing anything dark magic related,” you said crossing your arms, wondering if he had just brought you down here as some kind of prank. It seemed unlikely, but you still couldn’t help but wonder. 

Jimin’s brother sighed frustratedly as he set a piece of black tree bark down, “I know.”

His tone told you that he probably had not been expecting this either. Clearly he hadn’t found what he was looking for. 

“You sound disappointed,” you noted. 

He didn’t answer as his gaze stayed fixed on the table, waves of frustration clearly radiating off of him. You weren’t particularly curious about what specifically it was that he had failed to find, but there was still one question that you were curious to have answered. 

“So, since whatever your plan was clearly just failed, mind sharing why exactly you asked me to come down here with you?”

Jimin’s brother just stared at you, lips forming an unamused line. 

“I’m not stupid,” you pressed further, “you wouldn’t have brought me here if not for a reason. So just let it out, what did you want from me?”

A slight smirk twitched against his lips as he crossed his arms over his chest, “and they say I have trust issues…”

“You’re seriously not going to tell me?” You said incredulously, finding his growing grin wildly irritating, “fine, I guess I’ll just start guessing then.”

You paused for a moment, pretending to think it through.

“Ah, I know. You’re going to use me to fulfil your plan of becoming the most powerful magic user in the world with the help of Counterbalance,” then you added, “oh right! And also to kill your twin because you’re the neglected brother that never got as much love and attention as him. How close am I?”

Jimin’s brother could only try to stifle his amusement. 

“You’ve watched one too many fantasy movies, princess.”

“And what would I accomplish by murdering my brother?” He said while tilting his head, then he added sarcastically, “although, I have heard arms and legs sell for very high these days. How much do you think-”

The quip died on his tongue as the sound of a door opening suddenly reverberated around the room, freezing the two of you in place. Your gaze snapped to where the sound had come from, but you were just met with the wall of the cavern. 

“Wha-” You were about to ask, but Jimin’s brother grabbed your arm with a gloved hand and quickly dragged you behind the partition you had noticed from earlier. The two of you leaned against it, the most hidden you could be in this room. 

You peeked over his shoulder, still confused as to why noises were arising in the room when there was no one there, until the wall shimmered and distorted slightly to reveal a person walking through it. 

Your eyes widened in recognition. 

Ms. Kari?!

Ms. Kari, with her dirty blonde hair and wired glasses walked through the almost rotting black bark walls of the cavern like it was nothing, chatting intently with someone on the phone as she failed to notice the two of you. 

But didn’t Jimin’s twin say this place was abandoned decades ago? What was Ms. Kari doing in a Counterbalance lab?

You glance at Jimin’s brother for a moment, and it was clear that he was thinking the same thing. 

“Yes, yes, I’ve planned out the tasks,” Ms. Kari spoke into the black cellphone, “do you really believe me to be an incompetent teacher?”

You watched her walk deeper into the room, but, the more she did, the more Jimin’s brother had to step backwards to avoid being seen. That forced you to take a step back with him. 

“I’ll have them complete by tonight,” she went on, continuing to walk deeper into the room, “don’t worry, they’ll cover everything we need.”

Jimin’s brother took another step backwards, but there was nowhere for you to accommodate him. He had backed you into a wall, causing you to feel rough, black bark against your back while his clothed back was pressing against your chest. You stood caged between him and the cavern wall, simmering in anger at the unexpected position. If you didn’t like having to listen to men, then being touched by one was something you loathed to your core. 

But by then, thankfully, Ms. Kari had stopped walking further into the room, instead pausing in front of the large bookshelf. 

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow then. Goodbye sir,” she said, before evidently hanging up.

After putting the phone away, she turned to the bookshelf, studying it intently.

“Hmmm, now where did I put it…?” She muttered.

You squirmed as Ms. Kari began searching through the bookshelves, clearly uncomfortable in your current position.

“Is it this one…?” She continued to mutter, picking up an old, brown textbook, “no… I need the whole layout, not just a section.”

Jimin’s brother frowned as he felt you moving behind him, wondering why you couldn’t just stay in one place. The more you moved, the more dangerous it was going to be for you. He blew out a quiet breath, itching to tell you to stop but unable to as Ms. Kari took a step closer to the partition.

You, on the other hand, had to force yourself not to shove him off of you. He had taken another step backwards as Ms. Kari took another oblivious step towards the partition, despite there being no space to do so. That left you even more squished against him.

It was driving you insane. 

You refused to be in this position anymore. You had to get him off of you. 

Jimin’s brother turned his head slightly, wondering if he could quietly step to the side a bit so you’d stop touching him. 

But then he flinched as he felt your hands brush against his back. 

You scowled as you felt him move against you once again. 

Okay, that’s it, you both thought furiously. 

“Stop touching me!” The two of you blew up at each other.

You froze, panic seeping into your mind as you realised just how screwed the two of you were now. Jimin’s brother was no different. His jaw hung open in shock before his head snapped to where Ms. Kari was. 

“What on Earth-?” She muttered, turning around. 

But before her gaze could land on either of you, Jimin’s brother instantly turned towards the partition and gave it a strong shove. You watched in horror as the solid partition toppled over, falling midair for not more than a second before it collapsed…

on Ms. Kari.

“Did you just push a whole partition on top of a professor?!” You whisper-yelled incredulously, your mouth hanging wide open in shock. 

But Jimin’s brother simply turned to you after making sure Ms. Kari was down and hadn’t seen the two of you, “quite whining, we need to get out of here before she sees us.”

His gloved hand grabbed your wrist before dragging you alongside him as he ran up the stairs. 

The two of you didn’t stop running until you had entered the residences, panting like crazy when he finally let your arm go. You and Jimin’s brother’s breaths filled the hallway for what felt like forever as you both desperately attempted to catch your breaths.

But once Jimin’s twin seemed to have achieved as much, he whirled to you in anger. 

“What the hell was that?” He asked, rage laced in his tone and expression. 

“Me?!” You said, indignant, “what did I do?”

“What did you do?! Next time you want to run your hands all over me, maybe try therapy instead?!”

“Oh that’s rich coming from the guy that had his entire body pressed against mine. You couldn’t have moved a little?! Clearly personal space is a subject needed for your next therapy session!”

Jimin’s brother scoffed, “that’s what I was trying to do, but guess who’s hands made it impossible?”

“Maybe next time I will let you touch me,” he snapped, “then we’ll see just how much you enjoy what happens to you, princess.”

You immediately grimaced, his words feeling like a swarm of spiders crawling up and down your body. There it was. There was one of those disgusting sexual comments that men seemed to love to throw around carelessly.

“You’re disgusting,” you said, putting as much of your repulsion as you could in your words before scoffing, “and I’m leaving.”

You stormed into an elevator, immediately slamming your fingers against the button to your room's floor before repeatedly pressing against the button that would close the elevator doors. You wanted him nowhere near you. 

Jimin’s twin, on the other hand, stood for a moment, his expression a perfect picture of confusion as he stared at the now closed elevator doors. 

Disgusting…? He thought, wondering why you had seemed so repulsed by the comment. It took him a second more to come to the realisation, his lips pressing into a straight line as he did.

She must not know.

His gaze dropped to the floor, the dim hallway reflecting his mood suddenly. 

She must not know just how horrible my touch really is.

-

-

-

You flung the door of your dorm open, letting it slam shut behind you.

You couldn’t believe that bastard. Sure, this school was full of disgusting men like him that said stuff like that all the time, but still. How dare he talk to you that way?

You could feel the rage slither down your arms, making your hands shake. That kind of degradation always seemed to unlock a different kind of anger in you. One where you didn’t know whether you wanted to go back down there and make him beg for your forgiveness or go into a shower and aggressively scrub his words off your skin till it’s bright red and raw to the touch. 

You should’ve made him pay for a comment like that when you were down there. But you were also very much aware that you needed to leave in case Ms. Kari was searching the halls for the two of you. 

“Y/N!” A voice behind you suddenly called. You turned to find Jimin walking into the living room, a bright smile on his face.

“I’m so glad you’re okay! I came back and you weren’t here… I was about to call the principal.”

For a moment, all you could do was just stand and stare at his face. You knew they were twins, but… him and his brother looked exactly identical. If Jimin were to dye his hair and wear contacts, you wouldn’t doubt for a second that it was his brother standing before you. 

What an unnerving thought.

“Why does it matter?” You finally asked, tearing yourself away from searching for some kind of non eye- or hair-related feature that could distinguish them apart. You were mildly aware that your anger from earlier was unintentionally seeping into your tone, “I can do whatever I want, whenever I want. You don’t own me.”

But Jimin just smiled, “of course, we’re all adults here. I just meant that I was worried, that’s all.”

His smiles and concerns only seemed to add to the frustration that was building up in your chest. On one hand you had a twin telling you innuendos while on the other hand you had one giving you fake worry. You were tired of it. Tired of this entire day altogether. 

“I’m going to bed,” you announced, your tone suddenly soft from your exhaustion- both physically and mentally. 

You made your way to your bedroom door and paused for a moment, facing Jimin who was still standing in the living room, “and don’t bother getting worried every time I come back a little late. I can handle myself, as I’m sure Namjoon told you.”

Finally, you turned around and walked into your room, but not before Jimin called from behind you.

“You’re my roommate, of course I’m going to worry about you!”

-

-

-

“You can’t be serious!”

You stared at Principal Park with a scowl, wishing your glare could burn right through him, but he ignored it easily, choosing instead to sit composedly at his desk as he gave you a calm and collected expression. 

“I apologise Y/N, but even if I wished to I could not,” he explained slowly, as if you were some kind of wild animal that needed to be tamed. It made you want to wipe that calm expression off his meticulously kept face. 

“All I’m asking for is to be put into a different cohort, any other cohort. I can’t be in classes full of men, it’s… not… healthy for a young woman like me,” you said, words laced with a hint of desperation, “if anyone can do it, it’s you. That’s why I’m here.”

“Y/N,” he said, tilting his head in sympathy, “you of all people should know how important it is that you are educated suitably. Your classmates and yourself must learn differently compared to the rest of the students in this school. The success of our future depends on it.”

You stared at him helplessly, a mixture of rage and hopelessness churning uncomfortably in your stomach. 

“I understand that you wish to be in a cohort with individuals more similar to yourself, but in a way your current classmates are similar to you as well, don’t you think? You will be leading the future generations together after all. Perhaps this experience will prepare you for the relationships you will have with them once you take on your roles.”

“And besides,” he continued, as if you hadn’t already gotten the message loud and clear, “just because you are being placed into different cohorts, does not mean you are barred from befriending students in different cohorts. In fact, I encourage you to mingle with the other students of this academy.”

You watched Principal Park push himself into a standing position, giving you a bright smile that reminded you of Jimin’s, “now, I must attend a meeting at the moment. If you still wish to continue this conversation then we may schedule a meeting for another time, but I must reiterate that my answer will not change even then. Is that clear?”

Your jaw ticked as you chose to stay silent, knowing that saying what you really wanted to say to him would probably get you expelled. Instead, you levelled your tone before replying.

“Yes.”

“Good,” he nodded, “I hope you settle well here, your father and I are good friends. I genuinely do wish the best for you, Y/N.”

“Yes sir,” you forced out through gritted teeth. 

Once you were dismissed, you turned around and left his office, immediately entering into the main hall with your arms crossed over your chest. You didn’t know if it was his head you wanted to bash into the wall or your own. That would still be less painful than the years of suffering you were about to spend in this academy. 

You uncrossed your arms with a defeated sigh, choosing instead to shift your focus on the empty hall in front of you. It was too early for students to be wandering the area at this hour. Most were still in the dining hall eating breakfast and conversing with friends. Your conversation with Principal Park had effectively wiped your appetite, and you didn’t have any friends that you could hang out with anyway, so you let yourself enjoy the view of the Tree of Life instead. 

There was something calming about looking at the Tree. You didn’t know whether it was an effect of the Life magic coursing through its branches or just the beauty of it in general. The sunlight flitted through the stained glass ceiling to fall on its soft petals, making them glow light colours of blues and pinks. Even its trunk was a proud chestnut, a stark contrast from all the dark mahogany scattered around the walls and ceiling of the hall. 

You gravitated towards the towering structure in awe, choosing to settle onto the stone barrier encompassing its base. They’d made the barrier just perfect for students to sit on and relax, and you couldn’t help but feel that this was a better spot for relaxation than any library or dining hall in the academy. 

But your reverie was interrupted when the double doors of the main hall suddenly burst open. Your gaze snapped to the doors to your left, watching them shake as the doors slammed against the wall behind them. From here you could see the dining hall containing a bunch of students all gasping and speaking frenziedly with each other in hushed tones. 

The reason the doors had opened seemed to be a male student, who was stumbling into the main hall after shoving through the double doors weakly. You scanned him in surprise as he continued to stumble further into the hall until he tripped on his own feet and collapsed to his knees. 

He looked like he had been beaten pretty badly as a bruise encompassed the right side of his jaw and a painful groan escaped his lips. You tried to figure out who he was, but you couldn’t seem to make out the entirety of his face.

You stood up abruptly, eyes widening at the scene before you in confusion.

What was going on?

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Chapter 5: Dodgeball

Summary: Elitist Academy is exactly what it sounds like: an academy that focuses on teaching students from elite classes of the magic community. When Y/N is thrown into the academy to learn alongside 8 men, she realises she’ll have to learn to work with them, whether she likes it or not.

Pairing: Reader x OT7 (Choose Your Own)

Genre: Magic School au, mystery, angst

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: domestic abuse, additional warnings might be added as story progresses

A/N: Exams are finally over, so here's an update. Hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @florabloomgirly @shawtylilsalty

Your gaze stayed fixed on the man before you, hunched over as he cradled his bruised jaw with one hand. Was this what Principal Park had meant when he had said the Academy wasn’t entirely safe? You had assumed that he had been referring to secret abductions in the middle of the night or underlying schemes being formulated in the shadows. 

Not outright attacks being done in the centre of the main hall while the morning’s sunlight still shone brightly. 

You paused as the sound of expensive dress shoes striking against the marble floor echoed around the hall, each step slow and confident to reveal someone entering through the same doors the guy a few metres away from you had stumbled through just a few seconds earlier. 

You would have ignored whoever it was and walked over to the guy still crouched on the floor, but at the last second your gaze caught onto a few strands of dark purple, causing your head to snap towards him in shock.

Jimin’s brother paused at the doorway, scanning the main hall nonchalantly with those familiar occult red eyes. Even without the dimly lit atmosphere and dark shadows he seemed just as menacing as he had last night. The only difference was that now you could just barely pick up on an underlying anger lurking behind the nonchalant facade. 

His gaze flickered to you for a moment, taking in your standing form beside the Tree of Life, before it ultimately fell on the guy on the floor. 

At the sight of Jimin’s brother the guy pushed himself off the ground quickly with wide eyes and hands hovering upwards in a sign of surrender. 

Wait… was he the one that was doing this?

As if to answer your question, Jimin’s brother walked over to him and grabbed his collar with a gloved hand, dragging him with it until he slammed him against the nearest wall. 

The main hall began to fill with students from the dining hall, all of whom seemed curious, and clearly entertained, by the current state of events. They all made sure to give the two a wide area of space though, evidently making sure they wouldn’t get involved. 

Typical. 

You didn’t know if you wanted to get involved either. There was that feeling back in your chest, the one of elation whenever you watched men fight each other; whenever they decided to inflict pain on their own rather than on you. You knew it was wrong to feel that way, your hate didn’t blind you that much, but you still couldn’t seem to help yourself.

Come on, don’t be a monster Y/N, you thought with a sigh. 

You forced yourself to take a step towards the two, opening your mouth to reluctantly stop whatever was going on, but then paused as you suddenly recognised who Jimin’s brother had pinned to the wall. 

Wasn’t that the guy that had bullied Seokjin yesterday? What was his name… Jihoon?

“Look man,” Jihoon said, hands still up in surrender as Jimin’s brother held his collar, “I don’t understand what I did! Please just let me go, I’ll do whatever you want!”

“Oh?” Jimin’s brother grinned, a devilish glint in his eyes that did not match his calm tone, “not so tough now, are we?”

His gaze dropped to the bruise on Jihoon’s jaw, which was now turning an ugly shade of purple, “that’s disappointing, I was expecting a good fight.”

You watched Jihoon cower a bit when his gaze raised to meet his once again, “you want me to leave you alone?”

“Y-yes,” Jihoon answered, so quickly that you almost felt bad for him. Jimin’s brother nodded slowly, clearly relishing in his fear.

“Okay, but only on one condition.”

Jimin’s brother leaned forward to whisper something in his ear, but to your surprise, Jihoon seemed to freak out at the action. His head immediately jerked backwards, causing it to hit against the wall behind him roughly. A pained groan escaped his lips. 

You narrowed your gaze at the excessive reaction. You knew Jihoon was a coward the second you had caught him preying on Seokjin, but still… Jimin’s brother had only leaned forward. Was Jihoon really that scared of him?

Jimin’s brother ignored the reaction, waiting for him to stop groaning over his head, before he leaned forward once again and whispered something near his ear. You felt everyone strain their ears to try and listen to his words, but they were spoken much too low for anyone, including you, to hear. 

His words elicited another reaction from Jihoon, but this time it was more of a shocked response than a frightened one. 

“You what?!” He said incredulously, his hands dropping to his sides.

But one withering glare from Jimin’s brother suddenly had him nodding instantly, “wait- okay! Okay, I swear!”

“Great,” Jimin’s brother grinned with fake amusement for a moment before it dropped.

“Now get lost.”

Jihoon scrambled away from him the second he was freed, half running through the front doors of the academy. It was almost comical the way Hannah, the blonde foreigner that had been with him yesterday, ran after him while calling his name. The two definitely made for an interesting pair, you’ll give them that much. 

You looked back at Jimin’s brother, only to find him already walking out of the hall without another word. His expression was far from the amused cocky bastard from last night, this time filled with hidden rage that you questioned. You distantly wondered what Jihoon could have possibly done to make him so angry. 

“Cheonsa,” a voice behind you stated suddenly.

You turned around to find an unfamiliar girl standing next to you, dressed in the same Elitist Academy uniform as your own. Similar to Hannah she was also a foreigner, but her dark brown hair was pulled into short braids under her maroon cap while her light brown skin stood out against her cream-coloured collar. 

“Sorry, what?” You asked, unsure of what she had just said.

While the students that had stayed to watch the spectacle began making their way to their classes, she just continued to stand beside you and stare at the door in which Jimin’s brother had disappeared behind, “the guy that just practically beat up Jihoon, his name is Park Cheonsa.”

“Cheonsa?” You repeated, tilting your head slightly, “that’s an… odd name.”

The word itself translated to ‘angel,’ but you’d never actually heard anyone use it as a name before. The irony of someone like him being named angel was also not lost on you. 

“He’s the principal’s son, which is why he can get away with acting out like that. I’d be careful around him if I were you.”

You almost snorted, but held yourself back at the last minute so that you didn’t come off as rude. Everyone in this academy had rich parents that allowed them to act however they wanted, it was practically a requirement in order to get into the school. 

Still, it was sweet of her to give you a warning anyway.

You gave her a smile, “thanks for the warning… I guess. What’s your name?”

“Oh right!” She breathed with an embarrassed smile, “I almost forgot, I’m Amelia!”

“Y/N,” you offered, “it’s nice to meet you, Amelia.”

“It’s nice to meet you too Y/N, you’re really nice,” she said, then added shyly, “it’s been kind of hard to find nice people in this Academy.”

You regarded her for a moment, contemplating her words. She must have been from one of the more lower class families. In a place where everyone was rich, the students treated each other based on how rich their families were. So while Amelia was far from worrying about when her next meal would be, she and the students like her were probably taking the brunt of the bullying in this place. 

It was a sad truth, one that had you sympathising with her. 

“People can be real jerks, I totally get it,” you agreed, offering her another smile, “but if it means anything, you can always consider me a friend. Only if you’d like to, of course.”

To your surprise, Amelia frowned, “that’s very kind of you, but… if you’re seen with me, won’t they start targeting you as well? I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

You couldn’t help but smile, a light chuckle escaping your lips before you could stop yourself, “you don’t have to worry about that, I’ll be fine.”

You were sure word must have gotten out by now about who you were. Whether it was regarding your ability or the identity of your parents, either piece of information would be more than enough to protect you from any kind of bullying. 

“Besides,” you continued, giving her a dramatic frown, “I don’t even have any friends. You’re really going to let me die of loneliness?”

Amelia just laughed, shaking her head at you, “I didn’t realise your life was on the line here. In that case, how can I say no?”

With a smile, you checked the time on your phone, noticing that your class was about to start soon, “I have class right now, so I need to get going. Maybe we can meet up during break?”

“Really?” Amelia said, almost in surprise, as her expression brightened at the offer, “of course, I would love to!” 

You nodded, “great, I’ll see you later in that case.”

You started to turn around, feeling bad that you couldn’t stay and talk to her for longer since you knew being late to class wasn’t going to do your grades any favours, but was stopped when Amelia suddenly placed her hand on your shoulder at the last second, as if she had needed to work up the courage to do it. 

“Hey, listen…” She started hesitantly, “before you go, I just wanted you to know that I’ll stand up for you if people start treating you badly because of me. I’m not the type to just watch a friend suffer silently.”

You smiled at her thoughtfulness. Obviously it was too early to tell, but you had a feeling that Amelia was going to become a pretty close friend after today. Or maybe that was just something you wanted to happen and you were projecting. Either way, you had no issues with getting closer to the sweet girl standing before you. 

-

-

-

“You’re joking right?”

Namjoon stared at you incredulously, his eyes narrowing in that way that always seemed to make whoever his target was at that moment feel like they had a baseball for a brain. Hell, it used to make you feel like the dumbest person on Earth until you finally stopped letting it get to you. 

You were sitting in the same History of Magic 101 class as yesterday, except the size of the class had evidently decreased. Instead, the lecture hall was now only filled with 8 other students, male students, aside from yourself, just as Principal Park had explained. 

“The ability to control magic was completely absent during the Mesozoic era,” Namjoon continued to insist, crossing his arms over his chest. 

You sat back in your chair, mimicking his action with a raised brow, “tell that to the dinosaur bones that were recently discovered to have traces of magic in them.”

He scoffed, “humans are the only species with the ability to influence magic, so how could this ability have existed when humans didn’t?” 

Making sure to keep your gaze on Namjoon, you focused on your peripheral vision to study Ms. Kari, who was standing on the podium. To your delight, you noticed her hands placed frustratedly on her hips as she gave both you and Namjoon a look mixed with exhaustion and irritation. 

“And how do you know dinosaurs couldn’t control magic back then?” You questioned, focusing back on the man sitting a few seats away from you to goad him further, “it would explain the traces of magic found in their bones.”

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Cheonsa throw his head back in a muted groan before propping himself forward on his hands with a sigh. The rest of the class looked back and forth between the two of you, whether invested in the debate or confused by it you didn’t know. 

“The magic in their bones could have come from anywhere!” He argued, “it could have been absorbed from their surroundings or simply remnants of life magic from when they were still alive! Today’s animals lack the ability to influence magic, therefore it’s likely that the dinosaurs were the same.”

“Not necessarily,” you shot back, “perhaps dinosaurs became extinct due to their ability to influence magic while animals today survive only because they cannot? You ever heard of selective pressures, Namjoon?”

“Then what about-”

“This is the fourth time you both have broken into an argument after I asked a simple question to the class,” Ms. Kari finally spoke, interrupting Namjoon with a scowl, “I understand that you two seem to already have extensive knowledge on the class material, but these outbursts are disrupting my teaching.”

“If they don’t stop, I will have to start taking more severe action,” she threatened, making sure to look both you and Namjoon in the eye, “is that understood?”

Namjoon gave you one last look before turning to face Ms. Kari once again, “yes, Ms. Kari.”

“It won’t happen again,” you added.

But you lied.

It was definitely going to happen again. 

If Principal Park wasn’t going to switch your cohort, then you were just going to have to take matters into your own hands. See, if you were to keep causing disruptions in class, Ms. Kari would eventually have to take it up with the Principal. And since Principal Park would have to take action, but can’t kick you out of the school, he would have no other choice but to switch your class. He’d probably switch you to private tutoring, which you were no stranger to. 

All you had to do was argue with Namjoon a few times per class, which was beyond easy considering Namjoon’s unlimited ego and his constant need to prove himself right all the time. 

If everything went as planned you’d be out of here by the end of the week. 

But until then, you’d have to survive your classes the way they were at the moment. 

So you did.

The rest of the class went smoothly for the most part, aside from a couple more small arguments you started between yourself and Namjoon, until the bell rang and everyone began making their way to the next class.

You walked into the women’s dressing room, making sure to lock it before beginning to change out of your uniform. Your next class was physical education, which required you to slip into your academy-issued gym clothes. The gym uniform consisted of a white, fitted short-sleeve t-shirt that had been tailored to your exact specifications and loose red shorts that ended just below your mid-thigh. You decided to also pull on the matching red zip-up sweater, with the gold emblem printed on the lapel unlike the formal uniform, wishing that it would protect you from more than just a chilly breeze. 

You fixed your hair up into a ponytail as you walked out of the dressing room and started making your way out of the academy. The physical education class was to be held in the field in front of the school, so you stepped onto the grass reluctantly while scanning the area. 

The guys had already arrived, each of them wearing the same uniform you were while lounging around or just casually chatting with one another as they waited for the Professor to arrive. Some had opted to wear the sweater while others had chosen to discard theirs haphazardly at the edge of the field. 

You chose to stand off to the side, unable to stop yourself from sulking a bit at not having anyone to talk to. It sucked to be in a class full of men, but you reminded yourself that you just had to wait it out for one week. Then, hopefully, your plan would grant you some form of peace.

Too in your thoughts, you didn’t notice Yoongi had walked up to you until he was standing right beside you with his arms crossed over his chest. He stood for a moment, completely unnoticed by you until he suddenly spoke. 

“Stop that.”

You turned to him, gaze unintentionally falling on the black patch covering his left eye. It came as a surprise to you that he had approached you and started up a conversation considering he didn’t seem like the type to enjoy talking to others. 

“Stop what?” You replied, turning your face away to study the field once again. 

“You’re practically burning holes through everyone’s head with your glare,” he commented, “stop it, it’s annoying.”

You scoffed. What was up with this guy and always trying to tell you what to do? Maybe Jungkook was right and he really was some creep that was into that or something.

“If it bothers you so much, you can always just go away,” you said.

You could feel his gaze boring into the side of your head, making you shift uncomfortably before you turned to glare at him. He only titled his head slightly.

“You know,” he started, “Namjoon told us about your obvious hate towards our gender. Care to explain the reasoning behind such strong feelings?”

“No.”

He narrowed his eye, opening his mouth to probably prod you further, but to your relief you noticed the Professor stepping onto the field. 

He was a tall guy, maybe one of the tallest men you’d ever seen, and dressed in a dark grey tracksuit and black dress shoes. The zip of his jacket was pulled down halfway to reveal a white collared shirt and a neatly-made maroon tie. Everything about him seemed neat. His dark brown hair was trimmed and brushed tidily to the side while his gleaming black framed glasses sat on the bridge of his nose.

Without another glance towards Yoongi, you made your way towards the Professor alongside the other guys. You all formed a ring around him, waiting for him to start the class.

“This is Physical Education 101,” he said gruffly, “I’m Professor Son, but you will only refer to me as sir. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir!” You all exclaimed, and you couldn’t help but feel like you had joined the military.

“Now I know what most of your old high school Phys Ed classes must have looked like,” he said, eyeing each and every one of you, “they were seen as a break from studying, usually a period to waste time and have fun.”

“But from now on you can forget those days, because moving forward this class will take everything out of you. It will be merciless, just like the real world, so you’ll learn to suck it up, and hopefully, by the end of it, you’ll make something of yourselves.”

Mr. Son rested a hand over his hip as the other stroked his chin in thought. 

“Since today’s your first day, I’ve decided we’ll play a game of dodgeball,” he said. Then, as if a thought just occurred to him, he suddenly began to laugh, “hope you survive enough for your next class.”

There was something… scary about his laugh. While Cheonsa’s laugh had sounded like a warning, his just sounded cruel. But you were only playing dodgeball, how bad could it be?

When he finally let his laugh subside, Mr. Son waved a hand around, “now get into two teams, you’re old enough to do it on your own.”

At his words, everyone hurried to place themselves into a group as quickly as possible. Mr. Son was clearly one of the mean teachers, and no one wanted to get on the bad side of a teacher that already had it out for you. 

Since none of the guys really knew each other that well, the groups formed pretty much based on how close to each other everyone was standing. In a matter of seconds, groups of four students had formed on either side of you.

The only issue was that you had been standing mostly in the middle of the two, making you hesitate for a moment. With the groups already being equal, and you standing directly in the middle of them, you didn’t know which one you were meant to go into. But under Mr. Son’s scrutinising eye, you quickly shuffled over to the group on the right, barely paying attention to who was in that team. 

You unintentionally ended up standing next to Jungkook, who gave you a grin. He was one of the guys who had decided to discard the zip-up sweater and instead wore only the white, short-sleeve shirt with his red shorts. Under the sunlight you could make out an athletic, but toned, body, the thin material doing a poor job of hiding his prominent muscles. 

“You have a good eye, Y/N,” he said as Mr. Son turned away from the groups, “you’ve skillfully chosen the winning team, congratulations.”

Your gaze strayed from him to study the rest of the group. It was annoying that you had ended up in the same group as Namjoon, Jimin, and Yoongi, and of course Jungkook. But then again, joining the other group would have meant being teammates with Taehyung, Hoseok, Seokjin, and Cheonsa, who were equally annoying. Basically it was a lose-lose situation either way. 

To your left Hoseok, who was on the other team, snorted, but his expression was humorous, “sorry, what was that? Did you say the losing team? Because if so you’d be right.”

“In your dreams maybe,” Jungkook laughed, only for Mr. Son to roll his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, leave the trash talking for the actual game,” he said as he brought out his wand and directed it towards the centre of the field. A neat line of dodgeballs appeared from thin air, bright red and soft-looking under the sun.

“Though we’ll see how much you’ll feel like talking soon enough. Now get in position.”

The two teams immediately separated, walking to either side of the field before crouching over the white line outlining its edge. You opted to crouch beside Jimin, who gave you a quick thumbs up before refocusing on the dodgeballs in the centre of the field. 

Even though you didn’t care much about winning a stupid game of dodgeball, you couldn’t help but study the other team anyway. Hoseok seemed the most into it as he called out suggestions to the rest of his team for reaching the dodgeballs before everyone else, while Cheonsa just rolled his eyes at the effort. Beside him Taehyung seemed just as apathetic, but he seemed to at least be a little less apparent about it. Seokjin, on the other hand, seemed like he wanted to be anywhere except here. 

The difference in attitude between Hoseok and his team was almost laughable. 

The nine of you watched Professor Son walk alongside the sidelines of the field until he paused beside the line of dodgeballs. He brought out his phone, seemingly checking something, before he faced you all once again. 

“The game begins at the sound of the whistle,” he announced, earning him a few nods. 

“Three,” he began to count, “two”

“One.”

Mr. Son suddenly brought his wand upwards, flicking his wrist so that it rounded into a circle in the air. Not even half a second later the sound of a shrill whistle cut through the silence, as clearly as if someone had blown into one right beside your ear. 

“Begin!”

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Chapter 6: I'm Sorry Too

Summary: Elitist Academy is exactly what it sounds like: an academy that focuses on teaching students from elite classes of the magic community. When Y/N is thrown into the academy to learn alongside 8 men, she realises she’ll have to learn to work with them, whether she likes it or not.

Pairing: Reader x OT7 (Choose Your Own)

Genre: Magic School au, mystery, angst

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: domestic abuse, additional warnings might be added as story progresses

A/N: The difference between the way Y/N treats Amelia in comparison to the guys actually makes me laugh like she rlly can't stand them lmao

Taglist: @florabloomgirly @shawtylilsalty @11thenightwemet11

The sound of the whistle sparked you all into action.

You jumped up from your crouching position and sprinted to the middle of the field, managing to snatch a dodgeball barely a second before Taehyung could. The moment your hand enclosed around the rubber ball, you backed away, immediately scanning your surroundings. 

Yoongi and Jungkook were each holding a ball of their own, moving away from the centre the same way you had, while Hoseok was the only person on the other team that had grabbed the last one. 

There was only a moment of silence before dodgeballs started flying everywhere, each one aimed at the opposing team with precision. But as precise as the throws were the dodges. 

“We should aim to get Hoseok out first,” Namjoon said as he picked up a ball from the floor, making sure to keep an eye out for the other team’s throws, “he’s the biggest threat at the moment.”

Jungkook nodded, “agreed, though I’d keep an eye out for Taehyung as well.”

You hated to agree with him, but he was right. Despite his earlier apathy, Taehyung was a lot more athletic than you had initially thought, with some of his throws being mere millimetres away from getting a few of you out. 

You sneaked a glance at the rest of your team, noticing Jimin and Yoongi’s distracted faces. Jimin’s expression seemed worried, his gaze constantly finding Seokjin every few seconds. You couldn’t blame him, considering physical activity didn’t seem to be his strong suit. He was constantly hiding behind Cheonsa, occasionally picking up a ball to throw it weakly at your team’s side of the field. 

Yoongi, on the other hand, seemed beyond irritated as he gave the ball in his hand, the field around him, and the coach a subdued glare. You didn’t exactly know what the reason for said irritation was, but if you had to guess, you’d say that he seemingly wasn’t a fan of the game that had been chosen. Why might that be? You didn’t even have a guess for that one. 

With a new game plan in mind, the five of you spread out across the field, trying your best to target Hoseok and Taehyung while they manoeuvred away from each throw. 

“Make sure the ball doesn’t touch anywhere under your shoulders!” Hoseok called out, taking a few steps back as he surveyed the field meticulously, “and try to catch the ball as it’s coming towards you.”

“If you manage to catch it, whoever threw it automatically gets out.” He turned his head to meet his teammates’ eyes as he spoke. 

It was an opportunity, you realised, as you noticed Hoseok’s focus was distracted for just a moment. But before you could act, you watched Jungkook smirk, clearly noticing the mistake as well, before grabbing a ball from the floor and hurling it at Hoseok’s leg. 

You couldn’t have expected what happened next even if you were made to relive this moment over and over. 

Almost in slow motion, you watched the ball leave Jungkook’s hand, flying in the air for a moment, before it connected with Hoseok’s bare leg. It was only soft rubber, the most it should have been able to do was leave a light pink tinge on his skin, but instead, as the red sphere made contact with his leg, a strangled groan escaped Hoseok’s lips as he immediately crumpled to the floor, clutching his leg with one hand while the other kept himself upright. 

You might have scoffed at the exaggerated expression, reducing it to another instance of men being dramatic, but the look of pure pain on Hoseok’s face and in his voice made you hesitate in jumping to that thought. Everyone paused, an eerie silence falling over the field as confusion spread through everyone’s mind. 

It wasn’t until Hoseok’s hand raised from his leg that you realised why he had sounded so hurt, your own eyes widening at the view.

Hoseok’s leg was a bloody mess. 

It was as if someone had taken a knife, searing hot iron, and toxic acid to the initially clear skin multiple times. From a distance, you could make out some deep-looking cuts scattered around his calf, as well as a giant purple and blue bruise. You grimaced as you picked up on a sickening sizzling sound that seemed to really complete the picture. 

But then you watched in horror as the bruise and cuts began to spread up his leg, until his entire thigh was bleeding as well. It was enough to make your jaw drop. 

Taehyung walked up to him slowly, assessing Hoseok’s leg with an expression that matched your own before he suddenly whipped around to face Jungkook. 

“What the hell did you do?!” He yelled furiously, icy eyes ablaze with pure rage.

“I… I didn’t mean…” Jungkook tried to explain, but his surprise seemed to bar him from finishing the sentence while his gaze stayed glued to Hoseok’s leg. 

You couldn’t blame him. How could such a flimsy rubber ball have caused such a major injury? It was impossible… unless it was-

“Now this is what I’m talking about!” Mr. Son laughed -laughed- as he crossed his arms in delight, “I’ve magically altered the balls to ensure that if they hit you, it’ll hurt like hell, so I suggest you start taking the game more seriously.”

He then uncrossed his arms to casually place his hands on his hips, “now continue playing, I didn’t say to stop.”

Instead, your gaze went to Taehyung, who had begun helping a limping Hoseok to the sidelines, but they came to an abrupt stop when Mr. Son’s words rang around the field.

“What do you think you're doing?”

Everyone’s head whipped back to him, “I told you to continue playing.”

“Um,” Hoseok started, looking confused, “aren’t I out sir?”

“You are only out when you are physically knocked out,” he said much too casually for your liking, “otherwise, you continue playing.”

It was Taehyung that stepped in, his earlier anger replaced by surprise, “but sir… he’s injured.”

“Then he needs to learn to stop being a baby and get over it.” He turned towards the rest of the students on the field, “now I said continue the game!”

No one could move a muscle, too shocked at the lack of care being shown by Mr. Son. Tough love was one thing, but this had to be straight up abuse. 

You all stood with wide eyes, hesitating as the dodgeballs hung limply from your hands. 

Mr. Son didn’t seem to like that one bit. His brows furrowed as he scanned your reluctant forms, the edge of his lip turning downwards in displeasure. 

“Either you start playing the game, or I give you a real punishment to cry about,” he snapped, making sure to meet his fiery gaze with each and every one of you, “this is what real life is going to be like, so either you suck it up, or you face the consequences. It’s your choice.”

If this was him trying to teach you, then you couldn’t imagine what an actual punishment from him would look like- and you doubted that he didn’t already have some messed up punishment already planned for all of you. 

So slowly, with the even worse punishment in mind, you bent down to grab a ball that had rolled by your feet. Everyone’s eyes were on you now, watching you take the bright red ball in your hand hesitantly. You turned to the other side of the field, and with a shaky breath, gave it a half hearted throw. 

Another moment of shock spread throughout the field as the ball made contact with Taehyung, who doubled over with a pained groan. Even though you had barely thrown the ball, it had shot out of your hand like a bullet, almost pushing you off your own feet and slamming into Taehyung’s torso. 

There was a moment of silence as you all watched Taehyung push himself upright, a slight wince overtaking his features at the effort. Distantly you wondered if there was a nasty bruise spreading through his stomach under his shirt at this very moment. 

Then Yoongi stepped forward, plucking a ball from the ground and chucking it to the other side of the field where it came in contact with Cheonsa’s arm.

You all watched him grimace.

And just like that, the game continued once again. Every hit had someone groaning or doubling over in pain or giving Mr. Son the nastiest glare in existence. 

By the end of it, everyone was covered in blood and bruises. You almost dropped to the ground with a relieved sigh when you finally heard the bell go off, immediately dropping the dodgeball in your hand as if it were made of hot iron. You could feel nasty cuts and bruises spreading up your torso and left arm, the pain making you wince.

After surveying the field tiredly, you confirmed that everyone else at least looked alive. Well… aside from Seokjin. He had been hit the most, with purple bruises and blood scattering almost every part of his body that you could see. You watched Jimin check over him worriedly as Seokjin rested his hands on his knees with a pained grimace. 

“You,” Mr. Son suddenly said, causing everyone to flinch. When you turned to face him, you realised with horror that he was pointing one of his fingers in your direction. 

It was embarrassing to admit just how much you tensed at the attention. But really, what more could he possibly want from you? 

Mr. Son nodded his head in Seokjin’s direction before looking down at you once again, “take that five year old over there to the nurse.”

You briefly looked over at Seokjin, an anger flaring throughout your body. Of course Mr. Son would make you, the only girl, take Seokjin to the nurse instead of his literal brother standing right next to him. But as much as you wanted to stand up to Mr. Son and give him a piece of your mind, you had no intention of pushing him past his limits. You had seen enough today, and all you really wanted now was to get as far away from him as humanly possible. 

So without another word, you walked up to Seokjin and grabbed his sleeve, afraid that grabbing his wrist might hurt him even more, before you dragged him towards the nurse’s station. 

Mr. Son turned to the remaining boys, “get yourselves cleaned up.” 

“And if I hear you got blood anywhere in the classrooms, dodgeball will be the least of your worries.”

-

-

-

You’d spent the entire journey to the healing bay dragging a wincing Seokjin behind you, your mood completely ruined by Mr. Son. Seokjin didn’t say anything, just quietly letting you drag him along.

That left the two of you sitting in the healing bay, Seokjin sitting on one of the beds and you leaning against the wall with your arms crossed over your chest, while you both waited for the healer to arrive. You’d reasoned that since you were already here, you might as well get some healing potion for your own cuts and bruises, even if it meant having to be in his presence for a bit longer. 

A sudden vibration from your pocket caught your attention, making you reach into it and pull out your phone. You inwardly groaned at the name that appeared on the screen, not because of who it was, rather what it likely meant. 

Confirmation that your suspicions were right came when you skimmed the string of texts from Jisoo quickly, your lips downturning into a grimace. 

Jisoo: Hey kid, your father wants me to pick you up after school. You’re going to be spending the weekend at home. 

Jisoo: I’m sorry, I tried to get you out of it but you know how stubborn your father is…

You dropped your phone into your pocket with a tired sigh, crossing your arms over your chest once again. You were hoping that you could spend the weekend at your dorm, far away from your home, just the way you liked it, but it seemed like that had only been wishful thinking. Of course your father would never leave you alone, that would be asking for too much. 

At least you would get to meet your mother. 

The thought brought a smile to your face, even if it mostly was a sad one. It pained you that the thought of your mother had become so bittersweet, yet that was the reality you lived in. A familiar anger had your hands curling into fists by your side as you thought of the reason why.

But you immediately unfurled them while shaking your head, attempting to calm the mixture of feelings cluttering around your mind. Instead, you tried to focus your thoughts on something else, gaze straying around the room to aid you in the effort. 

They ended up landing on your arm, and you couldn’t help but rotate it slowly to observe the angry blotches of purple and blue scattering the once unblemished skin. 

How could Mr. Son treat his students like that? And not only did he do it, but he seemed to enjoy it as well. Your arm dropped to your side as a breathy scoff left your lips. He was just another example of a man abusing his position of power. And you were no stranger to those, having grown up surrounded by them constantly. 

Out of the corner of your eye you suddenly noticed Seokjin’s gaze studying you, and you got the feeling he’d been doing it this entire time. But the moment you met his gaze, he was quick to look away and instead focus on the ground before him. It made you narrow your eyes.

“What?” You asked, causing him to widen his eyes in surprise, “if you have something to say to me, just say it.”

His gaze dropped to the floor once again, and it was then that you remembered that he couldn’t speak.

You watched him shift in his seat before taking out his phone, his fingers working expertly over the screen to type something. Your eyebrows furrowed when he seemingly finished whatever it was he was writing and passed the phone over to you. 

‘I’m sorry,’ it read. You looked up from the screen to take in his nervous expression.

“For what?” You asked. 

He took his phone back, typing over the screen once again.

‘For not thanking you when you saved me yesterday from those students.’

That made you pause. You’d quickly forgotten about the incident that happened yesterday, but now that it was being brought up again, in this way, it surprised you.

‘I’m really grateful that you stood up for me when no one else did,’ he continued. 

You shifted in your place as an odd feeling began to spread through your chest. It was entirely unfamiliar, too filled with warmth and guilt. You tried to shove it away, wanting nothing more than for it to be gone. 

“Do you always let everyone walk all over you?” You commented, but it didn’t have nearly as much bite as you had wanted it to.

Instead of getting offended, Seokjin just shrugged, ‘I don’t have much of a choice. It’s hard to stand up for yourself when you can’t even speak up.’

“Men are always so keen on getting aggressive all the time,” you countered, raising an eyebrow at him, “why didn’t you just lay one on them?”

Seokjin wrinkled his nose, as if the thought made him uncomfortable, ‘I don’t know about others, but I don’t want to hurt anyone.’

You hated the pang of sympathy you felt at his words. If he didn’t want to be aggressive, then he didn’t exactly have many other ways to defend himself. If he used his phone to tell them off, then it would just be a new target for them to make fun of. If someone else stood up for him, then they’d think that he was hiding behind others like a coward. It really was a difficult position to be in. 

‘Anyways,’ he texted, noticing your sudden silence, ‘I just didn’t want you to think I was ungrateful.’

It was an odd sight, seeing a man actually be apologetic towards you. Most of the ones in your life were arrogant to the point that sometimes you wondered if they even saw you as human. Honestly, you didn’t even know it was still possible for them to even say it, yet here Seokjin was, so casually apologising to you when, when you really thought about it, it wasn’t entirely his fault since he couldn’t speak. 

A silence followed as you tried to come up with something to say, but all you could do was hold his gaze in the dimly lit healing bay. He was still sat on one of the beds, knees spread slightly so that his hands could rest easily between them. For the first time since you met him, you noticed that there were miniscule specks of pink swimming in the violet of his irises, just barely visible even with the proximity created by the small size of the healing bay. It made his eyes seem like they were sparkling, even under the room’s dimness.

There was something else in his eyes too, a look that the logical part of you couldn’t seem to decipher. But a small, naive part of you emerged from the forgotten depths of your mind, attributing the look to genuine remorse. You refused to believe that, yet you still couldn’t help feeling guilty. 

Your lips moved before your mind could approve. 

“I’m sorry too.”

This time the silence was deafening, but only because your shock seemed to weigh down on your lungs. 

Why the hell did you say that? Sure you felt a little guilty, but apologising… to him? What were you doing?

If you had been paying attention, you would have noticed Seokjin’s wide eyes and the slight tinge of pink on his cheeks. However, the only thing you were paying attention to was pushing yourself off the wall. Forget the healing potions, you’ll come back some other time, when Seokjin wasn’t sitting there making you say things you would normally never even dream of saying. 

Without giving him a glance, you quickly scurried out of the room, not noticing Seokjin’s tiny smile, before entering into the main hall. The sight of the Tree of Life was becoming more familiar by the day, just like the students that were chatting with each other as they started making their way to the dining hall. 

The openness of the hall compared to the small room you had just emerged from seemed to calm you, making it a lot easier to breathe and think clearly about the last few moments. You couldn’t believe you had just apologised to someone like him. Perhaps it had something to do with the expression he’d given you, one that looked suspiciously akin to guilt, which had in turn contagiously spread to yourself as well.

But why had he even apologised in the first place? There was no way someone like him was genuinely apologetic, you weren’t so dumb as to fall for something like that. So what exactly was his intention behind that move?

You toyed around with different ideas as you strolled across the hall, playing with the strap of your bookbag and casually watching the students milling around. Your form manoeuvred through them expertly, just barely missing one student’s flailing hand and another’s ill-placed shoe.

But just as you sidestepped to avoid an especially excited student, you came to an abrupt stop, a thought striking you all of a sudden.

What if he was trying to manipulate you?

What if he had only apologised to soften the walls you’d spent years building between yourself and the opposite sex? The reason for that could be endless: to hurt you, to get in your pants, etc. You were disappointed in yourself for falling for it, for even going so far as to give him an apology back. What had you been thinking? How could you have crumbled so easily?

You turned your head to the side, crossing your arms in frustration. Well if he thought he’d succeeded, he was dead wrong. You made a mental note to stay extra cautious in Seokjin’s presence, making sure you would never fall for his facade again. 

A shoulder suddenly bumped into yours, pulling you from your thoughts. Your eyes immediately landed on the girl responsible, who apologised instantly before walking towards the Tree of Life and plopping down on the stone at its base to chat with her friend. Your gaze automatically dropped to her shoes, which were sitting atop the exact place where the trap door Cheonsa had shown you was. The door itself blended into the floor, so well that even you, who knew where it was, could just barely make out its edges. 

The sight of it reminded you of last night with Cheonsa, which made you further remember its disastrous end. You wondered what Ms. Kari had even been doing down in the lab in the first place. From what you could remember, she’d spoken on the phone about planning… tasks? And then she’d also said something about needing a layout of some sort? You couldn’t be certain of the context of anything she’d said that night, but what you were certain about was that it had been a miracle that she hadn’t recognised you or Cheonsa. You had been terrified walking into her class this morning, but she had greeted you both in the same manner as everyone else, so it didn’t seem like she was onto you. 

“And why the hell would I care?” You heard a familiar voice say, interrupting your thoughts.

Speak of the devil…

Your eyes travelled around the hall, searching for the infamous purple-haired twin who owned the familiar voice. You eventually found him standing near the intricately designed wall a few metres away from you, facing Hannah with a challenging brow raised in her direction. Hannah simply glared at him, a ring of scattered books and papers surrounding her feet. 

“You’re the one that bumped into me and dropped all my books,” she snapped, having to stare up at him since she was at least a head shorter, “the least you could do is pick them up you jerk.”

Cheonsa simply tilted his head, seeming almost bored, “and what if I don’t feel like it, hm? What’ll you do about it, shortie?”

“Shortie?!” She repeated, indignant, “Excuse me?! You’re not so tall yourself Park Cheonsa!”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “but at least I don’t have to look up to people when I talk to them.”

You rolled your eyes at his clearly inciting words, remembering last night once again. He had done the same to you, prodded you left and right just to rile you up with an amused smirk. He clearly found teasing others fun. But there was something different about the way he acted now. Last night his expression had been full of sly grins and teasing chuckles, but now, as he faced Hannah, his expression was devoid of any such things. Instead, his eyes were narrowed at her while his lips were pulled into an unamused line. 

“How dare you-?!” She began, and you knew she was about to give him a piece of her mind. But then another voice cut her off, this one more calm and lower in pitch. 

“Cheonsa,” Jimin spoke, walking over to the two. And to your surprise, his expression lacked any of the mirth he usually tortured you with, replaced entirely by a serious scowl. It was particularly directed to Cheonsa, and even you could read the message it held loud and clear: ‘cut it out.’ 

Wow, who knew your roommate had a serious side?

“Park Jimin?!” Hannah marvelled incredulously, eyes almost popping out of their sockets as she looked him up and down like he was a seven course meal. She was starstruck for a few moments, just standing there and taking him in, before she seemed to realise the position she was in. In a matter of a second her tough exterior crumbled, her initially furrowed brows and downturned lips crumbling along with it. 

“I’m so glad you’re here! I didn’t know what to do!” She whined, suddenly completely helpless, “he’s the one that bumped into me and now he’s making fun of my height!”

Cheonsa rolled his eyes, evidently unfazed by her complete change of character, “you didn’t seem to have a problem with telling me off a second ago.”

“You little-” She began to counter angrily, but then her gaze snapped to Jimin and she quickly switched back to her helpless facade, “I mean- how could you say that?! You’re so mean to me, Park Cheonsa!”

Jimin’s lips formed a thin line, gaze travelling between his twin brother and the grey-eyed girl before him. He sighed, choosing instead to bend down and pick up Hannah’s scattered books and papers. 

A smile spread on her lips at the gesture, “thank you, Jimin, you’re so sweet!”

Cheonsa was also smiling, but his was a mixture of malice and amusement, “you missed a spot. Tell me, how much is the school paying you to be their janitor, Jimin?”

If looks could kill, Cheonsa would have been a pile of ash from the dirty glare Hannah was drilling into his head. That was until Jimin stood once again and handed her the books and papers he had collected, turning her glare into a bright and appreciative smile. 

The action was followed by an awkward silence, as if she was expecting him to say something more, but both Jimin and Cheonsa stood silently, almost entirely mirror images of each other. When Hannah realised that neither of them were going to speak, she shifted uncomfortably with an embarrassed laugh. 

“Well, I should get going. I’ll see you later, Jimin!” She said, giving him a small wave before she turned around and began walking away, and thanks again for the help!”

Neither brother spoke even when she had left the hall, opting instead to study the other with unamused expressions. Eventually, it was Cheonsa who broke the silence.

“Park ‘I can do no wrong’ Jimin,” he said sarcastically, shoving his gloved hands into his pockets, “thank god you were here in time before my big bad self could harm her.”

Jimin just sighed tiredly, “first the incident in the dining hall earlier today, and now this. I wonder if you ever feel even a sliver of empathy for the people you hurt.”

“Hmmm,” Cheonsa pretended to think, placing a finger on his chin to really sell it, before he shrugged nonchalantly, “nope, I sleep like a baby every night.”

Jimin’s jaw ticked.

“Of course you do. Hurting others comes naturally to you after all.”

“The same way being a doormat comes naturally to you,” Cheonsa countered without missing a beat. 

The twins stared each other down, Jimin’s gaze fiery while Cheonsa’s was full of amusement. They stood like that for a moment, before it was Jimin’s turn to break the tension with a heavy sigh. 

“Whatever, I didn’t come here to fight with you,” he said, shaking his head in disappointment, “just leave others alone, you can’t just go around and hurt whoever you feel like.”

Without waiting for a response, Jimin turned around and disappeared behind the giant double doors. You watched Cheonsa stand for a few seconds, gaze fixed on the doors Jimin had disappeared behind with an unreadable expression, before he disappeared in the opposite direction. 

Well… that was quite the show. You never knew that the Park twins were on bad terms, but that piece of information didn’t seem to surprise you. They were so different from each other, unlike the eerie similarities in their appearances, that their enmity towards each other kind of made sense. 

“Y/N?” A familiar voice called. 

Your gaze dropped on Amelia, who was walking into your line of sight with a big smile that you returned. 

“Oh hey, Amelia” you greeted, adjusting the strap of your book bag, “did you want to go get lunch together now?”

“Of course!” She said, nodding her head enthusiastically, “I’ve been thinking about it all throughout class.”

That made you raise an eyebrow.

“Oh? So you’re telling me you haven’t been paying attention in class?” You teased, raising a textbook you’d snagged from your bag to feign hitting her on the arm, “what would your parents say, huh?”

“Please,” she waved you off with a laugh, “missing one lesson won’t kill me.”

Then she grabbed your arm, looping it around hers before she began dragging you towards the dining hall. 

“Now come on, I’m starving.”

-

-

-

Your break with Amelia had ended up being filled with smiles and laughs, the two of you seeming to click almost instantly. She’d told you about how her father was a CEO of some kind of tourist company and stories of travelling the world because of it, while you had in turn told her about your own parents. To your relief, she didn’t seem to make a big deal out of it, instead nodding her head with a surprised expression on her face before moving the topic along. 

You were glad to have made her a friend, especially considering you didn’t have any friends your age in general. 

“What’s got you smiling so widely?” 

You groaned inwardly, your smile instantly melting off your face at the unfortunately familiar sound of Namjoon’s voice. You turned around to find him walking onto the field you were currently standing on, eyeing you with a raised brow.

After spending your break with Amelia, the rest of the day had gone by in a blur. Had it been your choice, you would have locked yourself in your dorm’s bedroom watching a funny TV show and eating some nice buttery popcorn, but after the text Jisoo had sent you earlier, you’d been forced to pack a bag with your school work and trudge reluctantly to the field you had played dodgeball in earlier that day. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked with a frown, refocusing back on him, “don’t you have someone else to bother with your porcupine hair?”

“You’re one to talk,” he scoffed instantly, “not even a rat would make a nest out of whatever's on your head.”

“What do you want, Namjoon?” 

His gaze strayed to casually scan the rest of the field, as if he were searching for something, “believe it or not, I’m not here for you. I’m waiting for Suho, he’s going to pick me up.”

Your gaze instantly snapped to him, a sinking feeling in your chest at his words.

“Wait,” you said slowly, hoping you were mistaken, “here? He said he’ll pick you up from here? This spot exactly?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon answered, his answer also slow as the realisation seemed to dawn on the two of you at the same time. 

Whenever you and Namjoon got picked up together, it meant-

“He’s coming with us,” Jisoo finished as she suddenly appeared in your line of sight. 

You turned your head to give her an incredulous look, taking in her short, dark brown hair, lightly done makeup, and brown eyes. Like always, she was dressed in a professional and expensive-looking navy suit, while the click of her heels was muffled by the lush green grass.

“What do you mean he’s coming with us?” You asked, an evident whine in your voice, “I thought father was making me stay home for the weekend?”

“And you are,” she nodded, “but your father invited Namjoon over for the weekend as well.”

Great, you thought bitterly. 

Jisoo must have noticed the change in your expression, because she gave you an encouraging smile, “come on, kid. This is far from the first time your father has invited him over.”

“I’ve been seeing Namjoon’s face for two days straight, Jisoo,” you grumbled, “I need a break from it… desperately.”

“I’m standing right here, you know?” Namjoon grumbled in a tone similar to yours, but you just waved him off. 

“Whatever.”

You turned back to Jisoo, “is there nothing you can do to kick him out of the weekend?”

Namjoon rolled his eyes as Jisoo shook her head apologetically.

“Sorry kid, whatever your dad says is law. I can’t-”

“Yooooo,” a male voice suddenly cut her off, causing all three of you to immediately flinch. You snapped your heads to Suho, who was wearing a black suit and sunglasses that made him look like some kind of special agent. His dark brown hair was slightly longer compared to the last time you’d seen him, while his once fair skin seemed tanner.

“What’s up guys?” He asked, his attitude exaggeratedly upbeat, “hope ya’ll weren’t waiting too long for me.”

“Suho, we didn’t see you there,” Jisoo said, surprise still present in her expression. 

“What’s up Jis’?” He said, the nickname instantly making you cringe, “I like the new cut my dude.”

“Really?” She asked, her characteristically professional front breaking for a moment to reveal a vomit-inducing lovestruck expression. It made you roll your eyes, knowing the kind, smart, and beautiful Jisoo standing before you could do so much better than someone like him. 

You targeted Namjoon with a narrowed gaze, as if it were his fault she was acting like this, “why is he speaking like that?”

Namjoon just sighed in response, two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in embarrassment.

“He went on a trip to America, recently,” Namjoon explained with a sigh, “I don’t know how long he’s going to insist on being like this, but let’s hope it’s soon.”

“Nah bro, America was crazy fun,” Suho announced unnecessarily, “they’re so fashionable and chill.”

You gave Namjoon another look, “make him stop.”

“Trust me, I’ve already tried,” he said before turning to Jisoo, “why don’t we just get going?”

“Of course,” she said, that characteristically professional tone taking over her voice once again. “If you all will follow me into the portal.”

The three of you watched Jisoo walk into the centre of the cleared out field while she pulled out her wand from the holder at her waist, making sure to keep an appropriate distance between herself and the rest of you. Once she had done that, she raised her wand to wave it in front of her, the wooden stick making a circular shape in the air. In a matter of a second, an enormous burst of yellow light swirled before her, tiny sparkles hovering hesitantly away from it before dissipating into nothingness. 

Now that you were standing here, facing the blinding light of the portal before you, you were starting to notice that feeling of fear pressing down against your chest, making it slightly difficult to breathe. It was a familiar occurrence that always happened when you were about to go home… whenever you thought of who was waiting for you within the marble walls and glittering chandeliers. 

You took a deep breath, trying to rid yourself of the awful feeling, and focused instead on Jisoo’s back as it vanished behind the swirl of yellow and white. It’s not like you had a choice anyway, you were well aware that there was no point in running or trying to negotiate a later date. So after watching Namjoon, and then Suho, walk into the portal, you brushed your now sweaty palms over your skirt before closing your eyes. 

And then lost yourself in the light. 

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Chapter 6: I'm Sorry Too

Summary: Elitist Academy is exactly what it sounds like: an academy that focuses on teaching students from elite classes of the magic community. When Y/N is thrown into the academy to learn alongside 8 men, she realises she’ll have to learn to work with them, whether she likes it or not.

Pairing: Reader x OT7 (Choose Your Own)

Genre: Magic School au, mystery, angst

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: domestic abuse, additional warnings might be added as story progresses

A/N: The difference between the way Y/N treats Amelia in comparison to the guys actually makes me laugh like she rlly can't stand them lmao

Taglist: @florabloomgirly @shawtylilsalty @11thenightwemet11

The sound of the whistle sparked you all into action.

You jumped up from your crouching position and sprinted to the middle of the field, managing to snatch a dodgeball barely a second before Taehyung could. The moment your hand enclosed around the rubber ball, you backed away, immediately scanning your surroundings. 

Yoongi and Jungkook were each holding a ball of their own, moving away from the centre the same way you had, while Hoseok was the only person on the other team that had grabbed the last one. 

There was only a moment of silence before dodgeballs started flying everywhere, each one aimed at the opposing team with precision. But as precise as the throws were the dodges. 

“We should aim to get Hoseok out first,” Namjoon said as he picked up a ball from the floor, making sure to keep an eye out for the other team’s throws, “he’s the biggest threat at the moment.”

Jungkook nodded, “agreed, though I’d keep an eye out for Taehyung as well.”

You hated to agree with him, but he was right. Despite his earlier apathy, Taehyung was a lot more athletic than you had initially thought, with some of his throws being mere millimetres away from getting a few of you out. 

You sneaked a glance at the rest of your team, noticing Jimin and Yoongi’s distracted faces. Jimin’s expression seemed worried, his gaze constantly finding Seokjin every few seconds. You couldn’t blame him, considering physical activity didn’t seem to be his strong suit. He was constantly hiding behind Cheonsa, occasionally picking up a ball to throw it weakly at your team’s side of the field. 

Yoongi, on the other hand, seemed beyond irritated as he gave the ball in his hand, the field around him, and the coach a subdued glare. You didn’t exactly know what the reason for said irritation was, but if you had to guess, you’d say that he seemingly wasn’t a fan of the game that had been chosen. Why might that be? You didn’t even have a guess for that one. 

With a new game plan in mind, the five of you spread out across the field, trying your best to target Hoseok and Taehyung while they manoeuvred away from each throw. 

“Make sure the ball doesn’t touch anywhere under your shoulders!” Hoseok called out, taking a few steps back as he surveyed the field meticulously, “and try to catch the ball as it’s coming towards you.”

“If you manage to catch it, whoever threw it automatically gets out.” He turned his head to meet his teammates’ eyes as he spoke. 

It was an opportunity, you realised, as you noticed Hoseok’s focus was distracted for just a moment. But before you could act, you watched Jungkook smirk, clearly noticing the mistake as well, before grabbing a ball from the floor and hurling it at Hoseok’s leg. 

You couldn’t have expected what happened next even if you were made to relive this moment over and over. 

Almost in slow motion, you watched the ball leave Jungkook’s hand, flying in the air for a moment, before it connected with Hoseok’s bare leg. It was only soft rubber, the most it should have been able to do was leave a light pink tinge on his skin, but instead, as the red sphere made contact with his leg, a strangled groan escaped Hoseok’s lips as he immediately crumpled to the floor, clutching his leg with one hand while the other kept himself upright. 

You might have scoffed at the exaggerated expression, reducing it to another instance of men being dramatic, but the look of pure pain on Hoseok’s face and in his voice made you hesitate in jumping to that thought. Everyone paused, an eerie silence falling over the field as confusion spread through everyone’s mind. 

It wasn’t until Hoseok’s hand raised from his leg that you realised why he had sounded so hurt, your own eyes widening at the view.

Hoseok’s leg was a bloody mess. 

It was as if someone had taken a knife, searing hot iron, and toxic acid to the initially clear skin multiple times. From a distance, you could make out some deep-looking cuts scattered around his calf, as well as a giant purple and blue bruise. You grimaced as you picked up on a sickening sizzling sound that seemed to really complete the picture. 

But then you watched in horror as the bruise and cuts began to spread up his leg, until his entire thigh was bleeding as well. It was enough to make your jaw drop. 

Taehyung walked up to him slowly, assessing Hoseok’s leg with an expression that matched your own before he suddenly whipped around to face Jungkook. 

“What the hell did you do?!” He yelled furiously, icy eyes ablaze with pure rage.

“I… I didn’t mean…” Jungkook tried to explain, but his surprise seemed to bar him from finishing the sentence while his gaze stayed glued to Hoseok’s leg. 

You couldn’t blame him. How could such a flimsy rubber ball have caused such a major injury? It was impossible… unless it was-

“Now this is what I’m talking about!” Mr. Son laughed -laughed- as he crossed his arms in delight, “I’ve magically altered the balls to ensure that if they hit you, it’ll hurt like hell, so I suggest you start taking the game more seriously.”

He then uncrossed his arms to casually place his hands on his hips, “now continue playing, I didn’t say to stop.”

Instead, your gaze went to Taehyung, who had begun helping a limping Hoseok to the sidelines, but they came to an abrupt stop when Mr. Son’s words rang around the field.

“What do you think you're doing?”

Everyone’s head whipped back to him, “I told you to continue playing.”

“Um,” Hoseok started, looking confused, “aren’t I out sir?”

“You are only out when you are physically knocked out,” he said much too casually for your liking, “otherwise, you continue playing.”

It was Taehyung that stepped in, his earlier anger replaced by surprise, “but sir… he’s injured.”

“Then he needs to learn to stop being a baby and get over it.” He turned towards the rest of the students on the field, “now I said continue the game!”

No one could move a muscle, too shocked at the lack of care being shown by Mr. Son. Tough love was one thing, but this had to be straight up abuse. 

You all stood with wide eyes, hesitating as the dodgeballs hung limply from your hands. 

Mr. Son didn’t seem to like that one bit. His brows furrowed as he scanned your reluctant forms, the edge of his lip turning downwards in displeasure. 

“Either you start playing the game, or I give you a real punishment to cry about,” he snapped, making sure to meet his fiery gaze with each and every one of you, “this is what real life is going to be like, so either you suck it up, or you face the consequences. It’s your choice.”

If this was him trying to teach you, then you couldn’t imagine what an actual punishment from him would look like- and you doubted that he didn’t already have some messed up punishment already planned for all of you. 

So slowly, with the even worse punishment in mind, you bent down to grab a ball that had rolled by your feet. Everyone’s eyes were on you now, watching you take the bright red ball in your hand hesitantly. You turned to the other side of the field, and with a shaky breath, gave it a half hearted throw. 

Another moment of shock spread throughout the field as the ball made contact with Taehyung, who doubled over with a pained groan. Even though you had barely thrown the ball, it had shot out of your hand like a bullet, almost pushing you off your own feet and slamming into Taehyung’s torso. 

There was a moment of silence as you all watched Taehyung push himself upright, a slight wince overtaking his features at the effort. Distantly you wondered if there was a nasty bruise spreading through his stomach under his shirt at this very moment. 

Then Yoongi stepped forward, plucking a ball from the ground and chucking it to the other side of the field where it came in contact with Cheonsa’s arm.

You all watched him grimace.

And just like that, the game continued once again. Every hit had someone groaning or doubling over in pain or giving Mr. Son the nastiest glare in existence. 

By the end of it, everyone was covered in blood and bruises. You almost dropped to the ground with a relieved sigh when you finally heard the bell go off, immediately dropping the dodgeball in your hand as if it were made of hot iron. You could feel nasty cuts and bruises spreading up your torso and left arm, the pain making you wince.

After surveying the field tiredly, you confirmed that everyone else at least looked alive. Well… aside from Seokjin. He had been hit the most, with purple bruises and blood scattering almost every part of his body that you could see. You watched Jimin check over him worriedly as Seokjin rested his hands on his knees with a pained grimace. 

“You,” Mr. Son suddenly said, causing everyone to flinch. When you turned to face him, you realised with horror that he was pointing one of his fingers in your direction. 

It was embarrassing to admit just how much you tensed at the attention. But really, what more could he possibly want from you? 

Mr. Son nodded his head in Seokjin’s direction before looking down at you once again, “take that five year old over there to the nurse.”

You briefly looked over at Seokjin, an anger flaring throughout your body. Of course Mr. Son would make you, the only girl, take Seokjin to the nurse instead of his literal brother standing right next to him. But as much as you wanted to stand up to Mr. Son and give him a piece of your mind, you had no intention of pushing him past his limits. You had seen enough today, and all you really wanted now was to get as far away from him as humanly possible. 

So without another word, you walked up to Seokjin and grabbed his sleeve, afraid that grabbing his wrist might hurt him even more, before you dragged him towards the nurse’s station. 

Mr. Son turned to the remaining boys, “get yourselves cleaned up.” 

“And if I hear you got blood anywhere in the classrooms, dodgeball will be the least of your worries.”

-

-

-

You’d spent the entire journey to the healing bay dragging a wincing Seokjin behind you, your mood completely ruined by Mr. Son. Seokjin didn’t say anything, just quietly letting you drag him along.

That left the two of you sitting in the healing bay, Seokjin sitting on one of the beds and you leaning against the wall with your arms crossed over your chest, while you both waited for the healer to arrive. You’d reasoned that since you were already here, you might as well get some healing potion for your own cuts and bruises, even if it meant having to be in his presence for a bit longer. 

A sudden vibration from your pocket caught your attention, making you reach into it and pull out your phone. You inwardly groaned at the name that appeared on the screen, not because of who it was, rather what it likely meant. 

Confirmation that your suspicions were right came when you skimmed the string of texts from Jisoo quickly, your lips downturning into a grimace. 

Jisoo: Hey kid, your father wants me to pick you up after school. You’re going to be spending the weekend at home. 

Jisoo: I’m sorry, I tried to get you out of it but you know how stubborn your father is…

You dropped your phone into your pocket with a tired sigh, crossing your arms over your chest once again. You were hoping that you could spend the weekend at your dorm, far away from your home, just the way you liked it, but it seemed like that had only been wishful thinking. Of course your father would never leave you alone, that would be asking for too much. 

At least you would get to meet your mother. 

The thought brought a smile to your face, even if it mostly was a sad one. It pained you that the thought of your mother had become so bittersweet, yet that was the reality you lived in. A familiar anger had your hands curling into fists by your side as you thought of the reason why.

But you immediately unfurled them while shaking your head, attempting to calm the mixture of feelings cluttering around your mind. Instead, you tried to focus your thoughts on something else, gaze straying around the room to aid you in the effort. 

They ended up landing on your arm, and you couldn’t help but rotate it slowly to observe the angry blotches of purple and blue scattering the once unblemished skin. 

How could Mr. Son treat his students like that? And not only did he do it, but he seemed to enjoy it as well. Your arm dropped to your side as a breathy scoff left your lips. He was just another example of a man abusing his position of power. And you were no stranger to those, having grown up surrounded by them constantly. 

Out of the corner of your eye you suddenly noticed Seokjin’s gaze studying you, and you got the feeling he’d been doing it this entire time. But the moment you met his gaze, he was quick to look away and instead focus on the ground before him. It made you narrow your eyes.

“What?” You asked, causing him to widen his eyes in surprise, “if you have something to say to me, just say it.”

His gaze dropped to the floor once again, and it was then that you remembered that he couldn’t speak.

You watched him shift in his seat before taking out his phone, his fingers working expertly over the screen to type something. Your eyebrows furrowed when he seemingly finished whatever it was he was writing and passed the phone over to you. 

‘I’m sorry,’ it read. You looked up from the screen to take in his nervous expression.

“For what?” You asked. 

He took his phone back, typing over the screen once again.

‘For not thanking you when you saved me yesterday from those students.’

That made you pause. You’d quickly forgotten about the incident that happened yesterday, but now that it was being brought up again, in this way, it surprised you.

‘I’m really grateful that you stood up for me when no one else did,’ he continued. 

You shifted in your place as an odd feeling began to spread through your chest. It was entirely unfamiliar, too filled with warmth and guilt. You tried to shove it away, wanting nothing more than for it to be gone. 

“Do you always let everyone walk all over you?” You commented, but it didn’t have nearly as much bite as you had wanted it to.

Instead of getting offended, Seokjin just shrugged, ‘I don’t have much of a choice. It’s hard to stand up for yourself when you can’t even speak up.’

“Men are always so keen on getting aggressive all the time,” you countered, raising an eyebrow at him, “why didn’t you just lay one on them?”

Seokjin wrinkled his nose, as if the thought made him uncomfortable, ‘I don’t know about others, but I don’t want to hurt anyone.’

You hated the pang of sympathy you felt at his words. If he didn’t want to be aggressive, then he didn’t exactly have many other ways to defend himself. If he used his phone to tell them off, then it would just be a new target for them to make fun of. If someone else stood up for him, then they’d think that he was hiding behind others like a coward. It really was a difficult position to be in. 

‘Anyways,’ he texted, noticing your sudden silence, ‘I just didn’t want you to think I was ungrateful.’

It was an odd sight, seeing a man actually be apologetic towards you. Most of the ones in your life were arrogant to the point that sometimes you wondered if they even saw you as human. Honestly, you didn’t even know it was still possible for them to even say it, yet here Seokjin was, so casually apologising to you when, when you really thought about it, it wasn’t entirely his fault since he couldn’t speak. 

A silence followed as you tried to come up with something to say, but all you could do was hold his gaze in the dimly lit healing bay. He was still sat on one of the beds, knees spread slightly so that his hands could rest easily between them. For the first time since you met him, you noticed that there were miniscule specks of pink swimming in the violet of his irises, just barely visible even with the proximity created by the small size of the healing bay. It made his eyes seem like they were sparkling, even under the room’s dimness.

There was something else in his eyes too, a look that the logical part of you couldn’t seem to decipher. But a small, naive part of you emerged from the forgotten depths of your mind, attributing the look to genuine remorse. You refused to believe that, yet you still couldn’t help feeling guilty. 

Your lips moved before your mind could approve. 

“I’m sorry too.”

This time the silence was deafening, but only because your shock seemed to weigh down on your lungs. 

Why the hell did you say that? Sure you felt a little guilty, but apologising… to him? What were you doing?

If you had been paying attention, you would have noticed Seokjin’s wide eyes and the slight tinge of pink on his cheeks. However, the only thing you were paying attention to was pushing yourself off the wall. Forget the healing potions, you’ll come back some other time, when Seokjin wasn’t sitting there making you say things you would normally never even dream of saying. 

Without giving him a glance, you quickly scurried out of the room, not noticing Seokjin’s tiny smile, before entering into the main hall. The sight of the Tree of Life was becoming more familiar by the day, just like the students that were chatting with each other as they started making their way to the dining hall. 

The openness of the hall compared to the small room you had just emerged from seemed to calm you, making it a lot easier to breathe and think clearly about the last few moments. You couldn’t believe you had just apologised to someone like him. Perhaps it had something to do with the expression he’d given you, one that looked suspiciously akin to guilt, which had in turn contagiously spread to yourself as well.

But why had he even apologised in the first place? There was no way someone like him was genuinely apologetic, you weren’t so dumb as to fall for something like that. So what exactly was his intention behind that move?

You toyed around with different ideas as you strolled across the hall, playing with the strap of your bookbag and casually watching the students milling around. Your form manoeuvred through them expertly, just barely missing one student’s flailing hand and another’s ill-placed shoe.

But just as you sidestepped to avoid an especially excited student, you came to an abrupt stop, a thought striking you all of a sudden.

What if he was trying to manipulate you?

What if he had only apologised to soften the walls you’d spent years building between yourself and the opposite sex? The reason for that could be endless: to hurt you, to get in your pants, etc. You were disappointed in yourself for falling for it, for even going so far as to give him an apology back. What had you been thinking? How could you have crumbled so easily?

You turned your head to the side, crossing your arms in frustration. Well if he thought he’d succeeded, he was dead wrong. You made a mental note to stay extra cautious in Seokjin’s presence, making sure you would never fall for his facade again. 

A shoulder suddenly bumped into yours, pulling you from your thoughts. Your eyes immediately landed on the girl responsible, who apologised instantly before walking towards the Tree of Life and plopping down on the stone at its base to chat with her friend. Your gaze automatically dropped to her shoes, which were sitting atop the exact place where the trap door Cheonsa had shown you was. The door itself blended into the floor, so well that even you, who knew where it was, could just barely make out its edges. 

The sight of it reminded you of last night with Cheonsa, which made you further remember its disastrous end. You wondered what Ms. Kari had even been doing down in the lab in the first place. From what you could remember, she’d spoken on the phone about planning… tasks? And then she’d also said something about needing a layout of some sort? You couldn’t be certain of the context of anything she’d said that night, but what you were certain about was that it had been a miracle that she hadn’t recognised you or Cheonsa. You had been terrified walking into her class this morning, but she had greeted you both in the same manner as everyone else, so it didn’t seem like she was onto you. 

“And why the hell would I care?” You heard a familiar voice say, interrupting your thoughts.

Speak of the devil…

Your eyes travelled around the hall, searching for the infamous purple-haired twin who owned the familiar voice. You eventually found him standing near the intricately designed wall a few metres away from you, facing Hannah with a challenging brow raised in her direction. Hannah simply glared at him, a ring of scattered books and papers surrounding her feet. 

“You’re the one that bumped into me and dropped all my books,” she snapped, having to stare up at him since she was at least a head shorter, “the least you could do is pick them up you jerk.”

Cheonsa simply tilted his head, seeming almost bored, “and what if I don’t feel like it, hm? What’ll you do about it, shortie?”

“Shortie?!” She repeated, indignant, “Excuse me?! You’re not so tall yourself Park Cheonsa!”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “but at least I don’t have to look up to people when I talk to them.”

You rolled your eyes at his clearly inciting words, remembering last night once again. He had done the same to you, prodded you left and right just to rile you up with an amused smirk. He clearly found teasing others fun. But there was something different about the way he acted now. Last night his expression had been full of sly grins and teasing chuckles, but now, as he faced Hannah, his expression was devoid of any such things. Instead, his eyes were narrowed at her while his lips were pulled into an unamused line. 

“How dare you-?!” She began, and you knew she was about to give him a piece of her mind. But then another voice cut her off, this one more calm and lower in pitch. 

“Cheonsa,” Jimin spoke, walking over to the two. And to your surprise, his expression lacked any of the mirth he usually tortured you with, replaced entirely by a serious scowl. It was particularly directed to Cheonsa, and even you could read the message it held loud and clear: ‘cut it out.’ 

Wow, who knew your roommate had a serious side?

“Park Jimin?!” Hannah marvelled incredulously, eyes almost popping out of their sockets as she looked him up and down like he was a seven course meal. She was starstruck for a few moments, just standing there and taking him in, before she seemed to realise the position she was in. In a matter of a second her tough exterior crumbled, her initially furrowed brows and downturned lips crumbling along with it. 

“I’m so glad you’re here! I didn’t know what to do!” She whined, suddenly completely helpless, “he’s the one that bumped into me and now he’s making fun of my height!”

Cheonsa rolled his eyes, evidently unfazed by her complete change of character, “you didn’t seem to have a problem with telling me off a second ago.”

“You little-” She began to counter angrily, but then her gaze snapped to Jimin and she quickly switched back to her helpless facade, “I mean- how could you say that?! You’re so mean to me, Park Cheonsa!”

Jimin’s lips formed a thin line, gaze travelling between his twin brother and the grey-eyed girl before him. He sighed, choosing instead to bend down and pick up Hannah’s scattered books and papers. 

A smile spread on her lips at the gesture, “thank you, Jimin, you’re so sweet!”

Cheonsa was also smiling, but his was a mixture of malice and amusement, “you missed a spot. Tell me, how much is the school paying you to be their janitor, Jimin?”

If looks could kill, Cheonsa would have been a pile of ash from the dirty glare Hannah was drilling into his head. That was until Jimin stood once again and handed her the books and papers he had collected, turning her glare into a bright and appreciative smile. 

The action was followed by an awkward silence, as if she was expecting him to say something more, but both Jimin and Cheonsa stood silently, almost entirely mirror images of each other. When Hannah realised that neither of them were going to speak, she shifted uncomfortably with an embarrassed laugh. 

“Well, I should get going. I’ll see you later, Jimin!” She said, giving him a small wave before she turned around and began walking away, and thanks again for the help!”

Neither brother spoke even when she had left the hall, opting instead to study the other with unamused expressions. Eventually, it was Cheonsa who broke the silence.

“Park ‘I can do no wrong’ Jimin,” he said sarcastically, shoving his gloved hands into his pockets, “thank god you were here in time before my big bad self could harm her.”

Jimin just sighed tiredly, “first the incident in the dining hall earlier today, and now this. I wonder if you ever feel even a sliver of empathy for the people you hurt.”

“Hmmm,” Cheonsa pretended to think, placing a finger on his chin to really sell it, before he shrugged nonchalantly, “nope, I sleep like a baby every night.”

Jimin’s jaw ticked.

“Of course you do. Hurting others comes naturally to you after all.”

“The same way being a doormat comes naturally to you,” Cheonsa countered without missing a beat. 

The twins stared each other down, Jimin’s gaze fiery while Cheonsa’s was full of amusement. They stood like that for a moment, before it was Jimin’s turn to break the tension with a heavy sigh. 

“Whatever, I didn’t come here to fight with you,” he said, shaking his head in disappointment, “just leave others alone, you can’t just go around and hurt whoever you feel like.”

Without waiting for a response, Jimin turned around and disappeared behind the giant double doors. You watched Cheonsa stand for a few seconds, gaze fixed on the doors Jimin had disappeared behind with an unreadable expression, before he disappeared in the opposite direction. 

Well… that was quite the show. You never knew that the Park twins were on bad terms, but that piece of information didn’t seem to surprise you. They were so different from each other, unlike the eerie similarities in their appearances, that their enmity towards each other kind of made sense. 

“Y/N?” A familiar voice called. 

Your gaze dropped on Amelia, who was walking into your line of sight with a big smile that you returned. 

“Oh hey, Amelia” you greeted, adjusting the strap of your book bag, “did you want to go get lunch together now?”

“Of course!” She said, nodding her head enthusiastically, “I’ve been thinking about it all throughout class.”

That made you raise an eyebrow.

“Oh? So you’re telling me you haven’t been paying attention in class?” You teased, raising a textbook you’d snagged from your bag to feign hitting her on the arm, “what would your parents say, huh?”

“Please,” she waved you off with a laugh, “missing one lesson won’t kill me.”

Then she grabbed your arm, looping it around hers before she began dragging you towards the dining hall. 

“Now come on, I’m starving.”

-

-

-

Your break with Amelia had ended up being filled with smiles and laughs, the two of you seeming to click almost instantly. She’d told you about how her father was a CEO of some kind of tourist company and stories of travelling the world because of it, while you had in turn told her about your own parents. To your relief, she didn’t seem to make a big deal out of it, instead nodding her head with a surprised expression on her face before moving the topic along. 

You were glad to have made her a friend, especially considering you didn’t have any friends your age in general. 

“What’s got you smiling so widely?” 

You groaned inwardly, your smile instantly melting off your face at the unfortunately familiar sound of Namjoon’s voice. You turned around to find him walking onto the field you were currently standing on, eyeing you with a raised brow.

After spending your break with Amelia, the rest of the day had gone by in a blur. Had it been your choice, you would have locked yourself in your dorm’s bedroom watching a funny TV show and eating some nice buttery popcorn, but after the text Jisoo had sent you earlier, you’d been forced to pack a bag with your school work and trudge reluctantly to the field you had played dodgeball in earlier that day. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked with a frown, refocusing back on him, “don’t you have someone else to bother with your porcupine hair?”

“You’re one to talk,” he scoffed instantly, “not even a rat would make a nest out of whatever's on your head.”

“What do you want, Namjoon?” 

His gaze strayed to casually scan the rest of the field, as if he were searching for something, “believe it or not, I’m not here for you. I’m waiting for Suho, he’s going to pick me up.”

Your gaze instantly snapped to him, a sinking feeling in your chest at his words.

“Wait,” you said slowly, hoping you were mistaken, “here? He said he’ll pick you up from here? This spot exactly?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon answered, his answer also slow as the realisation seemed to dawn on the two of you at the same time. 

Whenever you and Namjoon got picked up together, it meant-

“He’s coming with us,” Jisoo finished as she suddenly appeared in your line of sight. 

You turned your head to give her an incredulous look, taking in her short, dark brown hair, lightly done makeup, and brown eyes. Like always, she was dressed in a professional and expensive-looking navy suit, while the click of her heels was muffled by the lush green grass.

“What do you mean he’s coming with us?” You asked, an evident whine in your voice, “I thought father was making me stay home for the weekend?”

“And you are,” she nodded, “but your father invited Namjoon over for the weekend as well.”

Great, you thought bitterly. 

Jisoo must have noticed the change in your expression, because she gave you an encouraging smile, “come on, kid. This is far from the first time your father has invited him over.”

“I’ve been seeing Namjoon’s face for two days straight, Jisoo,” you grumbled, “I need a break from it… desperately.”

“I’m standing right here, you know?” Namjoon grumbled in a tone similar to yours, but you just waved him off. 

“Whatever.”

You turned back to Jisoo, “is there nothing you can do to kick him out of the weekend?”

Namjoon rolled his eyes as Jisoo shook her head apologetically.

“Sorry kid, whatever your dad says is law. I can’t-”

“Yooooo,” a male voice suddenly cut her off, causing all three of you to immediately flinch. You snapped your heads to Suho, who was wearing a black suit and sunglasses that made him look like some kind of special agent. His dark brown hair was slightly longer compared to the last time you’d seen him, while his once fair skin seemed tanner.

“What’s up guys?” He asked, his attitude exaggeratedly upbeat, “hope ya’ll weren’t waiting too long for me.”

“Suho, we didn’t see you there,” Jisoo said, surprise still present in her expression. 

“What’s up Jis’?” He said, the nickname instantly making you cringe, “I like the new cut my dude.”

“Really?” She asked, her characteristically professional front breaking for a moment to reveal a vomit-inducing lovestruck expression. It made you roll your eyes, knowing the kind, smart, and beautiful Jisoo standing before you could do so much better than someone like him. 

You targeted Namjoon with a narrowed gaze, as if it were his fault she was acting like this, “why is he speaking like that?”

Namjoon just sighed in response, two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in embarrassment.

“He went on a trip to America, recently,” Namjoon explained with a sigh, “I don’t know how long he’s going to insist on being like this, but let’s hope it’s soon.”

“Nah bro, America was crazy fun,” Suho announced unnecessarily, “they’re so fashionable and chill.”

You gave Namjoon another look, “make him stop.”

“Trust me, I’ve already tried,” he said before turning to Jisoo, “why don’t we just get going?”

“Of course,” she said, that characteristically professional tone taking over her voice once again. “If you all will follow me into the portal.”

The three of you watched Jisoo walk into the centre of the cleared out field while she pulled out her wand from the holder at her waist, making sure to keep an appropriate distance between herself and the rest of you. Once she had done that, she raised her wand to wave it in front of her, the wooden stick making a circular shape in the air. In a matter of a second, an enormous burst of yellow light swirled before her, tiny sparkles hovering hesitantly away from it before dissipating into nothingness. 

Now that you were standing here, facing the blinding light of the portal before you, you were starting to notice that feeling of fear pressing down against your chest, making it slightly difficult to breathe. It was a familiar occurrence that always happened when you were about to go home… whenever you thought of who was waiting for you within the marble walls and glittering chandeliers. 

You took a deep breath, trying to rid yourself of the awful feeling, and focused instead on Jisoo’s back as it vanished behind the swirl of yellow and white. It’s not like you had a choice anyway, you were well aware that there was no point in running or trying to negotiate a later date. So after watching Namjoon, and then Suho, walk into the portal, you brushed your now sweaty palms over your skirt before closing your eyes. 

And then lost yourself in the light. 

Chapter 6: I'm Sorry Too

Summary: Elitist Academy is exactly what it sounds like: an academy that focuses on teaching students from elite classes of the magic community. When Y/N is thrown into the academy to learn alongside 8 men, she realises she’ll have to learn to work with them, whether she likes it or not.

Pairing: Reader x OT7 (Choose Your Own)

Genre: Magic School au, mystery, angst

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: domestic abuse, additional warnings might be added as story progresses

A/N: The difference between the way Y/N treats Amelia in comparison to the guys actually makes me laugh like she rlly can't stand them lmao

Taglist: @florabloomgirly @shawtylilsalty @11thenightwemet11

The sound of the whistle sparked you all into action.

You jumped up from your crouching position and sprinted to the middle of the field, managing to snatch a dodgeball barely a second before Taehyung could. The moment your hand enclosed around the rubber ball, you backed away, immediately scanning your surroundings. 

Yoongi and Jungkook were each holding a ball of their own, moving away from the centre the same way you had, while Hoseok was the only person on the other team that had grabbed the last one. 

There was only a moment of silence before dodgeballs started flying everywhere, each one aimed at the opposing team with precision. But as precise as the throws were the dodges. 

“We should aim to get Hoseok out first,” Namjoon said as he picked up a ball from the floor, making sure to keep an eye out for the other team’s throws, “he’s the biggest threat at the moment.”

Jungkook nodded, “agreed, though I’d keep an eye out for Taehyung as well.”

You hated to agree with him, but he was right. Despite his earlier apathy, Taehyung was a lot more athletic than you had initially thought, with some of his throws being mere millimetres away from getting a few of you out. 

You sneaked a glance at the rest of your team, noticing Jimin and Yoongi’s distracted faces. Jimin’s expression seemed worried, his gaze constantly finding Seokjin every few seconds. You couldn’t blame him, considering physical activity didn’t seem to be his strong suit. He was constantly hiding behind Cheonsa, occasionally picking up a ball to throw it weakly at your team’s side of the field. 

Yoongi, on the other hand, seemed beyond irritated as he gave the ball in his hand, the field around him, and the coach a subdued glare. You didn’t exactly know what the reason for said irritation was, but if you had to guess, you’d say that he seemingly wasn’t a fan of the game that had been chosen. Why might that be? You didn’t even have a guess for that one. 

With a new game plan in mind, the five of you spread out across the field, trying your best to target Hoseok and Taehyung while they manoeuvred away from each throw. 

“Make sure the ball doesn’t touch anywhere under your shoulders!” Hoseok called out, taking a few steps back as he surveyed the field meticulously, “and try to catch the ball as it’s coming towards you.”

“If you manage to catch it, whoever threw it automatically gets out.” He turned his head to meet his teammates’ eyes as he spoke. 

It was an opportunity, you realised, as you noticed Hoseok’s focus was distracted for just a moment. But before you could act, you watched Jungkook smirk, clearly noticing the mistake as well, before grabbing a ball from the floor and hurling it at Hoseok’s leg. 

You couldn’t have expected what happened next even if you were made to relive this moment over and over. 

Almost in slow motion, you watched the ball leave Jungkook’s hand, flying in the air for a moment, before it connected with Hoseok’s bare leg. It was only soft rubber, the most it should have been able to do was leave a light pink tinge on his skin, but instead, as the red sphere made contact with his leg, a strangled groan escaped Hoseok’s lips as he immediately crumpled to the floor, clutching his leg with one hand while the other kept himself upright. 

You might have scoffed at the exaggerated expression, reducing it to another instance of men being dramatic, but the look of pure pain on Hoseok’s face and in his voice made you hesitate in jumping to that thought. Everyone paused, an eerie silence falling over the field as confusion spread through everyone’s mind. 

It wasn’t until Hoseok’s hand raised from his leg that you realised why he had sounded so hurt, your own eyes widening at the view.

Hoseok’s leg was a bloody mess. 

It was as if someone had taken a knife, searing hot iron, and toxic acid to the initially clear skin multiple times. From a distance, you could make out some deep-looking cuts scattered around his calf, as well as a giant purple and blue bruise. You grimaced as you picked up on a sickening sizzling sound that seemed to really complete the picture. 

But then you watched in horror as the bruise and cuts began to spread up his leg, until his entire thigh was bleeding as well. It was enough to make your jaw drop. 

Taehyung walked up to him slowly, assessing Hoseok’s leg with an expression that matched your own before he suddenly whipped around to face Jungkook. 

“What the hell did you do?!” He yelled furiously, icy eyes ablaze with pure rage.

“I… I didn’t mean…” Jungkook tried to explain, but his surprise seemed to bar him from finishing the sentence while his gaze stayed glued to Hoseok’s leg. 

You couldn’t blame him. How could such a flimsy rubber ball have caused such a major injury? It was impossible… unless it was-

“Now this is what I’m talking about!” Mr. Son laughed -laughed- as he crossed his arms in delight, “I’ve magically altered the balls to ensure that if they hit you, it’ll hurt like hell, so I suggest you start taking the game more seriously.”

He then uncrossed his arms to casually place his hands on his hips, “now continue playing, I didn’t say to stop.”

Instead, your gaze went to Taehyung, who had begun helping a limping Hoseok to the sidelines, but they came to an abrupt stop when Mr. Son’s words rang around the field.

“What do you think you're doing?”

Everyone’s head whipped back to him, “I told you to continue playing.”

“Um,” Hoseok started, looking confused, “aren’t I out sir?”

“You are only out when you are physically knocked out,” he said much too casually for your liking, “otherwise, you continue playing.”

It was Taehyung that stepped in, his earlier anger replaced by surprise, “but sir… he’s injured.”

“Then he needs to learn to stop being a baby and get over it.” He turned towards the rest of the students on the field, “now I said continue the game!”

No one could move a muscle, too shocked at the lack of care being shown by Mr. Son. Tough love was one thing, but this had to be straight up abuse. 

You all stood with wide eyes, hesitating as the dodgeballs hung limply from your hands. 

Mr. Son didn’t seem to like that one bit. His brows furrowed as he scanned your reluctant forms, the edge of his lip turning downwards in displeasure. 

“Either you start playing the game, or I give you a real punishment to cry about,” he snapped, making sure to meet his fiery gaze with each and every one of you, “this is what real life is going to be like, so either you suck it up, or you face the consequences. It’s your choice.”

If this was him trying to teach you, then you couldn’t imagine what an actual punishment from him would look like- and you doubted that he didn’t already have some messed up punishment already planned for all of you. 

So slowly, with the even worse punishment in mind, you bent down to grab a ball that had rolled by your feet. Everyone’s eyes were on you now, watching you take the bright red ball in your hand hesitantly. You turned to the other side of the field, and with a shaky breath, gave it a half hearted throw. 

Another moment of shock spread throughout the field as the ball made contact with Taehyung, who doubled over with a pained groan. Even though you had barely thrown the ball, it had shot out of your hand like a bullet, almost pushing you off your own feet and slamming into Taehyung’s torso. 

There was a moment of silence as you all watched Taehyung push himself upright, a slight wince overtaking his features at the effort. Distantly you wondered if there was a nasty bruise spreading through his stomach under his shirt at this very moment. 

Then Yoongi stepped forward, plucking a ball from the ground and chucking it to the other side of the field where it came in contact with Cheonsa’s arm.

You all watched him grimace.

And just like that, the game continued once again. Every hit had someone groaning or doubling over in pain or giving Mr. Son the nastiest glare in existence. 

By the end of it, everyone was covered in blood and bruises. You almost dropped to the ground with a relieved sigh when you finally heard the bell go off, immediately dropping the dodgeball in your hand as if it were made of hot iron. You could feel nasty cuts and bruises spreading up your torso and left arm, the pain making you wince.

After surveying the field tiredly, you confirmed that everyone else at least looked alive. Well… aside from Seokjin. He had been hit the most, with purple bruises and blood scattering almost every part of his body that you could see. You watched Jimin check over him worriedly as Seokjin rested his hands on his knees with a pained grimace. 

“You,” Mr. Son suddenly said, causing everyone to flinch. When you turned to face him, you realised with horror that he was pointing one of his fingers in your direction. 

It was embarrassing to admit just how much you tensed at the attention. But really, what more could he possibly want from you? 

Mr. Son nodded his head in Seokjin’s direction before looking down at you once again, “take that five year old over there to the nurse.”

You briefly looked over at Seokjin, an anger flaring throughout your body. Of course Mr. Son would make you, the only girl, take Seokjin to the nurse instead of his literal brother standing right next to him. But as much as you wanted to stand up to Mr. Son and give him a piece of your mind, you had no intention of pushing him past his limits. You had seen enough today, and all you really wanted now was to get as far away from him as humanly possible. 

So without another word, you walked up to Seokjin and grabbed his sleeve, afraid that grabbing his wrist might hurt him even more, before you dragged him towards the nurse’s station. 

Mr. Son turned to the remaining boys, “get yourselves cleaned up.” 

“And if I hear you got blood anywhere in the classrooms, dodgeball will be the least of your worries.”

-

-

-

You’d spent the entire journey to the healing bay dragging a wincing Seokjin behind you, your mood completely ruined by Mr. Son. Seokjin didn’t say anything, just quietly letting you drag him along.

That left the two of you sitting in the healing bay, Seokjin sitting on one of the beds and you leaning against the wall with your arms crossed over your chest, while you both waited for the healer to arrive. You’d reasoned that since you were already here, you might as well get some healing potion for your own cuts and bruises, even if it meant having to be in his presence for a bit longer. 

A sudden vibration from your pocket caught your attention, making you reach into it and pull out your phone. You inwardly groaned at the name that appeared on the screen, not because of who it was, rather what it likely meant. 

Confirmation that your suspicions were right came when you skimmed the string of texts from Jisoo quickly, your lips downturning into a grimace. 

Jisoo: Hey kid, your father wants me to pick you up after school. You’re going to be spending the weekend at home. 

Jisoo: I’m sorry, I tried to get you out of it but you know how stubborn your father is…

You dropped your phone into your pocket with a tired sigh, crossing your arms over your chest once again. You were hoping that you could spend the weekend at your dorm, far away from your home, just the way you liked it, but it seemed like that had only been wishful thinking. Of course your father would never leave you alone, that would be asking for too much. 

At least you would get to meet your mother. 

The thought brought a smile to your face, even if it mostly was a sad one. It pained you that the thought of your mother had become so bittersweet, yet that was the reality you lived in. A familiar anger had your hands curling into fists by your side as you thought of the reason why.

But you immediately unfurled them while shaking your head, attempting to calm the mixture of feelings cluttering around your mind. Instead, you tried to focus your thoughts on something else, gaze straying around the room to aid you in the effort. 

They ended up landing on your arm, and you couldn’t help but rotate it slowly to observe the angry blotches of purple and blue scattering the once unblemished skin. 

How could Mr. Son treat his students like that? And not only did he do it, but he seemed to enjoy it as well. Your arm dropped to your side as a breathy scoff left your lips. He was just another example of a man abusing his position of power. And you were no stranger to those, having grown up surrounded by them constantly. 

Out of the corner of your eye you suddenly noticed Seokjin’s gaze studying you, and you got the feeling he’d been doing it this entire time. But the moment you met his gaze, he was quick to look away and instead focus on the ground before him. It made you narrow your eyes.

“What?” You asked, causing him to widen his eyes in surprise, “if you have something to say to me, just say it.”

His gaze dropped to the floor once again, and it was then that you remembered that he couldn’t speak.

You watched him shift in his seat before taking out his phone, his fingers working expertly over the screen to type something. Your eyebrows furrowed when he seemingly finished whatever it was he was writing and passed the phone over to you. 

‘I’m sorry,’ it read. You looked up from the screen to take in his nervous expression.

“For what?” You asked. 

He took his phone back, typing over the screen once again.

‘For not thanking you when you saved me yesterday from those students.’

That made you pause. You’d quickly forgotten about the incident that happened yesterday, but now that it was being brought up again, in this way, it surprised you.

‘I’m really grateful that you stood up for me when no one else did,’ he continued. 

You shifted in your place as an odd feeling began to spread through your chest. It was entirely unfamiliar, too filled with warmth and guilt. You tried to shove it away, wanting nothing more than for it to be gone. 

“Do you always let everyone walk all over you?” You commented, but it didn’t have nearly as much bite as you had wanted it to.

Instead of getting offended, Seokjin just shrugged, ‘I don’t have much of a choice. It’s hard to stand up for yourself when you can’t even speak up.’

“Men are always so keen on getting aggressive all the time,” you countered, raising an eyebrow at him, “why didn’t you just lay one on them?”

Seokjin wrinkled his nose, as if the thought made him uncomfortable, ‘I don’t know about others, but I don’t want to hurt anyone.’

You hated the pang of sympathy you felt at his words. If he didn’t want to be aggressive, then he didn’t exactly have many other ways to defend himself. If he used his phone to tell them off, then it would just be a new target for them to make fun of. If someone else stood up for him, then they’d think that he was hiding behind others like a coward. It really was a difficult position to be in. 

‘Anyways,’ he texted, noticing your sudden silence, ‘I just didn’t want you to think I was ungrateful.’

It was an odd sight, seeing a man actually be apologetic towards you. Most of the ones in your life were arrogant to the point that sometimes you wondered if they even saw you as human. Honestly, you didn’t even know it was still possible for them to even say it, yet here Seokjin was, so casually apologising to you when, when you really thought about it, it wasn’t entirely his fault since he couldn’t speak. 

A silence followed as you tried to come up with something to say, but all you could do was hold his gaze in the dimly lit healing bay. He was still sat on one of the beds, knees spread slightly so that his hands could rest easily between them. For the first time since you met him, you noticed that there were miniscule specks of pink swimming in the violet of his irises, just barely visible even with the proximity created by the small size of the healing bay. It made his eyes seem like they were sparkling, even under the room’s dimness.

There was something else in his eyes too, a look that the logical part of you couldn’t seem to decipher. But a small, naive part of you emerged from the forgotten depths of your mind, attributing the look to genuine remorse. You refused to believe that, yet you still couldn’t help feeling guilty. 

Your lips moved before your mind could approve. 

“I’m sorry too.”

This time the silence was deafening, but only because your shock seemed to weigh down on your lungs. 

Why the hell did you say that? Sure you felt a little guilty, but apologising… to him? What were you doing?

If you had been paying attention, you would have noticed Seokjin’s wide eyes and the slight tinge of pink on his cheeks. However, the only thing you were paying attention to was pushing yourself off the wall. Forget the healing potions, you’ll come back some other time, when Seokjin wasn’t sitting there making you say things you would normally never even dream of saying. 

Without giving him a glance, you quickly scurried out of the room, not noticing Seokjin’s tiny smile, before entering into the main hall. The sight of the Tree of Life was becoming more familiar by the day, just like the students that were chatting with each other as they started making their way to the dining hall. 

The openness of the hall compared to the small room you had just emerged from seemed to calm you, making it a lot easier to breathe and think clearly about the last few moments. You couldn’t believe you had just apologised to someone like him. Perhaps it had something to do with the expression he’d given you, one that looked suspiciously akin to guilt, which had in turn contagiously spread to yourself as well.

But why had he even apologised in the first place? There was no way someone like him was genuinely apologetic, you weren’t so dumb as to fall for something like that. So what exactly was his intention behind that move?

You toyed around with different ideas as you strolled across the hall, playing with the strap of your bookbag and casually watching the students milling around. Your form manoeuvred through them expertly, just barely missing one student’s flailing hand and another’s ill-placed shoe.

But just as you sidestepped to avoid an especially excited student, you came to an abrupt stop, a thought striking you all of a sudden.

What if he was trying to manipulate you?

What if he had only apologised to soften the walls you’d spent years building between yourself and the opposite sex? The reason for that could be endless: to hurt you, to get in your pants, etc. You were disappointed in yourself for falling for it, for even going so far as to give him an apology back. What had you been thinking? How could you have crumbled so easily?

You turned your head to the side, crossing your arms in frustration. Well if he thought he’d succeeded, he was dead wrong. You made a mental note to stay extra cautious in Seokjin’s presence, making sure you would never fall for his facade again. 

A shoulder suddenly bumped into yours, pulling you from your thoughts. Your eyes immediately landed on the girl responsible, who apologised instantly before walking towards the Tree of Life and plopping down on the stone at its base to chat with her friend. Your gaze automatically dropped to her shoes, which were sitting atop the exact place where the trap door Cheonsa had shown you was. The door itself blended into the floor, so well that even you, who knew where it was, could just barely make out its edges. 

The sight of it reminded you of last night with Cheonsa, which made you further remember its disastrous end. You wondered what Ms. Kari had even been doing down in the lab in the first place. From what you could remember, she’d spoken on the phone about planning… tasks? And then she’d also said something about needing a layout of some sort? You couldn’t be certain of the context of anything she’d said that night, but what you were certain about was that it had been a miracle that she hadn’t recognised you or Cheonsa. You had been terrified walking into her class this morning, but she had greeted you both in the same manner as everyone else, so it didn’t seem like she was onto you. 

“And why the hell would I care?” You heard a familiar voice say, interrupting your thoughts.

Speak of the devil…

Your eyes travelled around the hall, searching for the infamous purple-haired twin who owned the familiar voice. You eventually found him standing near the intricately designed wall a few metres away from you, facing Hannah with a challenging brow raised in her direction. Hannah simply glared at him, a ring of scattered books and papers surrounding her feet. 

“You’re the one that bumped into me and dropped all my books,” she snapped, having to stare up at him since she was at least a head shorter, “the least you could do is pick them up you jerk.”

Cheonsa simply tilted his head, seeming almost bored, “and what if I don’t feel like it, hm? What’ll you do about it, shortie?”

“Shortie?!” She repeated, indignant, “Excuse me?! You’re not so tall yourself Park Cheonsa!”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “but at least I don’t have to look up to people when I talk to them.”

You rolled your eyes at his clearly inciting words, remembering last night once again. He had done the same to you, prodded you left and right just to rile you up with an amused smirk. He clearly found teasing others fun. But there was something different about the way he acted now. Last night his expression had been full of sly grins and teasing chuckles, but now, as he faced Hannah, his expression was devoid of any such things. Instead, his eyes were narrowed at her while his lips were pulled into an unamused line. 

“How dare you-?!” She began, and you knew she was about to give him a piece of her mind. But then another voice cut her off, this one more calm and lower in pitch. 

“Cheonsa,” Jimin spoke, walking over to the two. And to your surprise, his expression lacked any of the mirth he usually tortured you with, replaced entirely by a serious scowl. It was particularly directed to Cheonsa, and even you could read the message it held loud and clear: ‘cut it out.’ 

Wow, who knew your roommate had a serious side?

“Park Jimin?!” Hannah marvelled incredulously, eyes almost popping out of their sockets as she looked him up and down like he was a seven course meal. She was starstruck for a few moments, just standing there and taking him in, before she seemed to realise the position she was in. In a matter of a second her tough exterior crumbled, her initially furrowed brows and downturned lips crumbling along with it. 

“I’m so glad you’re here! I didn’t know what to do!” She whined, suddenly completely helpless, “he’s the one that bumped into me and now he’s making fun of my height!”

Cheonsa rolled his eyes, evidently unfazed by her complete change of character, “you didn’t seem to have a problem with telling me off a second ago.”

“You little-” She began to counter angrily, but then her gaze snapped to Jimin and she quickly switched back to her helpless facade, “I mean- how could you say that?! You’re so mean to me, Park Cheonsa!”

Jimin’s lips formed a thin line, gaze travelling between his twin brother and the grey-eyed girl before him. He sighed, choosing instead to bend down and pick up Hannah’s scattered books and papers. 

A smile spread on her lips at the gesture, “thank you, Jimin, you’re so sweet!”

Cheonsa was also smiling, but his was a mixture of malice and amusement, “you missed a spot. Tell me, how much is the school paying you to be their janitor, Jimin?”

If looks could kill, Cheonsa would have been a pile of ash from the dirty glare Hannah was drilling into his head. That was until Jimin stood once again and handed her the books and papers he had collected, turning her glare into a bright and appreciative smile. 

The action was followed by an awkward silence, as if she was expecting him to say something more, but both Jimin and Cheonsa stood silently, almost entirely mirror images of each other. When Hannah realised that neither of them were going to speak, she shifted uncomfortably with an embarrassed laugh. 

“Well, I should get going. I’ll see you later, Jimin!” She said, giving him a small wave before she turned around and began walking away, and thanks again for the help!”

Neither brother spoke even when she had left the hall, opting instead to study the other with unamused expressions. Eventually, it was Cheonsa who broke the silence.

“Park ‘I can do no wrong’ Jimin,” he said sarcastically, shoving his gloved hands into his pockets, “thank god you were here in time before my big bad self could harm her.”

Jimin just sighed tiredly, “first the incident in the dining hall earlier today, and now this. I wonder if you ever feel even a sliver of empathy for the people you hurt.”

“Hmmm,” Cheonsa pretended to think, placing a finger on his chin to really sell it, before he shrugged nonchalantly, “nope, I sleep like a baby every night.”

Jimin’s jaw ticked.

“Of course you do. Hurting others comes naturally to you after all.”

“The same way being a doormat comes naturally to you,” Cheonsa countered without missing a beat. 

The twins stared each other down, Jimin’s gaze fiery while Cheonsa’s was full of amusement. They stood like that for a moment, before it was Jimin’s turn to break the tension with a heavy sigh. 

“Whatever, I didn’t come here to fight with you,” he said, shaking his head in disappointment, “just leave others alone, you can’t just go around and hurt whoever you feel like.”

Without waiting for a response, Jimin turned around and disappeared behind the giant double doors. You watched Cheonsa stand for a few seconds, gaze fixed on the doors Jimin had disappeared behind with an unreadable expression, before he disappeared in the opposite direction. 

Well… that was quite the show. You never knew that the Park twins were on bad terms, but that piece of information didn’t seem to surprise you. They were so different from each other, unlike the eerie similarities in their appearances, that their enmity towards each other kind of made sense. 

“Y/N?” A familiar voice called. 

Your gaze dropped on Amelia, who was walking into your line of sight with a big smile that you returned. 

“Oh hey, Amelia” you greeted, adjusting the strap of your book bag, “did you want to go get lunch together now?”

“Of course!” She said, nodding her head enthusiastically, “I’ve been thinking about it all throughout class.”

That made you raise an eyebrow.

“Oh? So you’re telling me you haven’t been paying attention in class?” You teased, raising a textbook you’d snagged from your bag to feign hitting her on the arm, “what would your parents say, huh?”

“Please,” she waved you off with a laugh, “missing one lesson won’t kill me.”

Then she grabbed your arm, looping it around hers before she began dragging you towards the dining hall. 

“Now come on, I’m starving.”

-

-

-

Your break with Amelia had ended up being filled with smiles and laughs, the two of you seeming to click almost instantly. She’d told you about how her father was a CEO of some kind of tourist company and stories of travelling the world because of it, while you had in turn told her about your own parents. To your relief, she didn’t seem to make a big deal out of it, instead nodding her head with a surprised expression on her face before moving the topic along. 

You were glad to have made her a friend, especially considering you didn’t have any friends your age in general. 

“What’s got you smiling so widely?” 

You groaned inwardly, your smile instantly melting off your face at the unfortunately familiar sound of Namjoon’s voice. You turned around to find him walking onto the field you were currently standing on, eyeing you with a raised brow.

After spending your break with Amelia, the rest of the day had gone by in a blur. Had it been your choice, you would have locked yourself in your dorm’s bedroom watching a funny TV show and eating some nice buttery popcorn, but after the text Jisoo had sent you earlier, you’d been forced to pack a bag with your school work and trudge reluctantly to the field you had played dodgeball in earlier that day. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked with a frown, refocusing back on him, “don’t you have someone else to bother with your porcupine hair?”

“You’re one to talk,” he scoffed instantly, “not even a rat would make a nest out of whatever's on your head.”

“What do you want, Namjoon?” 

His gaze strayed to casually scan the rest of the field, as if he were searching for something, “believe it or not, I’m not here for you. I’m waiting for Suho, he’s going to pick me up.”

Your gaze instantly snapped to him, a sinking feeling in your chest at his words.

“Wait,” you said slowly, hoping you were mistaken, “here? He said he’ll pick you up from here? This spot exactly?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon answered, his answer also slow as the realisation seemed to dawn on the two of you at the same time. 

Whenever you and Namjoon got picked up together, it meant-

“He’s coming with us,” Jisoo finished as she suddenly appeared in your line of sight. 

You turned your head to give her an incredulous look, taking in her short, dark brown hair, lightly done makeup, and brown eyes. Like always, she was dressed in a professional and expensive-looking navy suit, while the click of her heels was muffled by the lush green grass.

“What do you mean he’s coming with us?” You asked, an evident whine in your voice, “I thought father was making me stay home for the weekend?”

“And you are,” she nodded, “but your father invited Namjoon over for the weekend as well.”

Great, you thought bitterly. 

Jisoo must have noticed the change in your expression, because she gave you an encouraging smile, “come on, kid. This is far from the first time your father has invited him over.”

“I’ve been seeing Namjoon’s face for two days straight, Jisoo,” you grumbled, “I need a break from it… desperately.”

“I’m standing right here, you know?” Namjoon grumbled in a tone similar to yours, but you just waved him off. 

“Whatever.”

You turned back to Jisoo, “is there nothing you can do to kick him out of the weekend?”

Namjoon rolled his eyes as Jisoo shook her head apologetically.

“Sorry kid, whatever your dad says is law. I can’t-”

“Yooooo,” a male voice suddenly cut her off, causing all three of you to immediately flinch. You snapped your heads to Suho, who was wearing a black suit and sunglasses that made him look like some kind of special agent. His dark brown hair was slightly longer compared to the last time you’d seen him, while his once fair skin seemed tanner.

“What’s up guys?” He asked, his attitude exaggeratedly upbeat, “hope ya’ll weren’t waiting too long for me.”

“Suho, we didn’t see you there,” Jisoo said, surprise still present in her expression. 

“What’s up Jis’?” He said, the nickname instantly making you cringe, “I like the new cut my dude.”

“Really?” She asked, her characteristically professional front breaking for a moment to reveal a vomit-inducing lovestruck expression. It made you roll your eyes, knowing the kind, smart, and beautiful Jisoo standing before you could do so much better than someone like him. 

You targeted Namjoon with a narrowed gaze, as if it were his fault she was acting like this, “why is he speaking like that?”

Namjoon just sighed in response, two fingers pinching the bridge of his nose in embarrassment.

“He went on a trip to America, recently,” Namjoon explained with a sigh, “I don’t know how long he’s going to insist on being like this, but let’s hope it’s soon.”

“Nah bro, America was crazy fun,” Suho announced unnecessarily, “they’re so fashionable and chill.”

You gave Namjoon another look, “make him stop.”

“Trust me, I’ve already tried,” he said before turning to Jisoo, “why don’t we just get going?”

“Of course,” she said, that characteristically professional tone taking over her voice once again. “If you all will follow me into the portal.”

The three of you watched Jisoo walk into the centre of the cleared out field while she pulled out her wand from the holder at her waist, making sure to keep an appropriate distance between herself and the rest of you. Once she had done that, she raised her wand to wave it in front of her, the wooden stick making a circular shape in the air. In a matter of a second, an enormous burst of yellow light swirled before her, tiny sparkles hovering hesitantly away from it before dissipating into nothingness. 

Now that you were standing here, facing the blinding light of the portal before you, you were starting to notice that feeling of fear pressing down against your chest, making it slightly difficult to breathe. It was a familiar occurrence that always happened when you were about to go home… whenever you thought of who was waiting for you within the marble walls and glittering chandeliers. 

You took a deep breath, trying to rid yourself of the awful feeling, and focused instead on Jisoo’s back as it vanished behind the swirl of yellow and white. It’s not like you had a choice anyway, you were well aware that there was no point in running or trying to negotiate a later date. So after watching Namjoon, and then Suho, walk into the portal, you brushed your now sweaty palms over your skirt before closing your eyes. 

And then lost yourself in the light. 

A helping hand // jhs

Free you my heart 😪

pairing: dom!hobi x f!reader

genre: smut, drabble, unedited

word count: 360

warnings: cunnilingus

note: Happy Easter ig? Just something I wrote spur of the moment 😅

“Hoseok, please” you begged pathetically, a tear slipping down your already wet cheeks. You were trembling on the bed, your pink sheets soaked and messy.

“Please what, y/n?” He said sickeningly sweet, running his finger along the slit of your sensitive pussy. “Use your words pretty girl.”

He started kissing along the inside of your left thigh, chuckling at the exasperated breath you let out. Your body was spent, you were 3 orgasms in and practically limp.

“Can’t handle more, hobi” you mewled weakly, running your shaky hands through his disheveled hair. You tried pushing his head away from your body but he only resisted.

“Oh but you can, baby” he cooed, furrowing his brows in mock worry. He placed a hand on either of your shins, pushing your legs upward. He positioned himself closer to your waiting core. Listening attentively to your cute whines of desperation.

He leaned down licking a strip up your slit, kissing each side of your pussy lips. Eyeing your glistening cunt like a mad man, hobi peered up through hooded eyes. His long lashes casting a small shadow across his cheeks. Smiling at the sight of your ruined body, he lowered his head. Placing his nose directly on your pussy, inhaling loudly.

Your cheeks burned red, legs starting to ache in the tightly folded position he placed you in. He began tongue fucking you mercilessly. Obscene slurping noises filled the room, your whimpers turning into broken cries. You felt your arousal dripping down your legs continuously. The knot in your stomach forming almost immediately.

“Mmm—“ he hummed against your soaked core, moving away to take a quick breath. He didn’t waste another second diving back in. Spitting on your cunt in a swift motion.

“Whose pussy is this?” He questioned hotly. Using a free hand to rub across your pussy. He looked at you hungrily, milking another orgasm from you with his fingers. You felt your pussy clench around his fingers, repeatedly calling his name in response.

“So gorgeous,” he breathed heavily, watching your cunt contract around his idle fingers. He ran his fingers along your folds placing them in his mouth happily.

“Again?”

This is a really great story, will there be more chapters in the future ?

guys that i’d kind of be into (prologue): poly!ot7 x reader

pairing: poly!ot7 x fem!reader

genre: fluff mostly, idol!bts x broadway!reader

warnings: some language, nothing serious atm

summary: being on broadway has always been your dream, and now that you’ve achieved just that as christine in “be more chill,” you’ve found it to be a lot harder than your younger self had expected. like, for example, the fact that dating might as well be out of the question. you definitely did not leave college to get distracted from your work… it kind of sucks that seven k-pop idols that you may or may not really like came to see your show and took a liking to you.

word count: 2.1k

author’s note: i’m honestly really fucking excited to write this series. i’m also really nervous?? it’s my first time writing for bts or honestly just real people in general so please go easy on me… god i’m nervous fuck. i’m still figuring somethings about this series too, but i have a pretty good grasp on the whole project itself that i’m hoping the gaps will fill themselves in while i’m writing.

i truthfully had a difficult time suggesting what musical to have the reader be apart of but after consideration, i thought “be more chill” was a pretty good option.

but seriously, i really hope you guys enjoy reading this series just as much as i plan to enjoy writing it!

EDIT: for the new people reading this, i know the first few chapters aren’t stellar and i apologize but this picks up aftera while i promise!!

next →

You loved your job, truly, but you were always drained after every show you did. It was something you were aware of when you decided to pursue theatre, but you were definitely not aware of the extent that came with doing eight strenuous shows a week, taking every open opportunity of variety shows or interviews imaginable, and everything between keeping up with social media presentations and keeping up with your personal life while also taking care of yourself.

Which is why you were happily getting ready to take a nap in your dressing room after having gone to the stage door and eaten your Postmated food. You got your favorite fluffy blanket draped over your couch and strolled over to your shelves to pick a BT21 plushie to cuddle with. It seemed that some of your fellow castmates had already snagged Mang and TaTa; they all tended to steal from your collection when napping during these tough two-show days. You must’ve seen Jason Tam cuddling with Chimmy at least five times now.

Now, you weren’t necessarily obsessed with BTS, but them and their songs did remind you of your college days spent listening to the loud k-pop music blasting from the sorority house down the street- you may or may not have been dragged to those parties every so often by your roommate. But those days were short in number once you ventured to New York to audition for the role of Christine in “Be More Chill,” a role that you landed and took a sabbatical for so you could perform. So, on those days you needed a little more hype, sure, you blasted their music. And the Line Friends store was literally 300 feet from the Lyceum Theater so you couldn’t not go and buy some cute things to spruce up your dressing room.

Deciding that you needed the extra comfort after this long excursion of a show, you plucked up your Koya and Cooky plushies to fall asleep with.

Just as you were about to dim the lights, you got a FaceTime call from your best friend. You didn’t get to talk to them often since they were in class half the time while you were always doing whatever theatre gig you had to deal with that day. So, of course, you gratefully accepted the call, finding a sense of comfort from their familiar bright face against the grey New Jersey skyline.

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