Request: fluff: Friend group travelling (wherever inspires you most! I’m thinking someplace like Hawai where they visit secret beaches and stuff! Site-seeing in the city could also be interesting!). Jimin and and OC know eachother through friends. OC is independent and not TOO into the whole adventuring deal but does it to enjoy some quality time with her friends. Jimin is flirty and playful and makes the trip all the more interesting for her. (I don’t know how you want to set it up but maybe two friends are dating and they invite their two seperate friend groups on this trip to meet. Or maybe it’s a wedding and OC is a bridesmaid? Anything works honestly!) - @silviasgotyourback

Description: You’re not too keen on…you know…risk-taking. In fact, it scares you to your core. But when your close friend Kim Namjoon gets in your head, you agree to a crazy trip to Fiji with him and his pals. But what happens when one of those pals – specifically Park Jimin – sweeps you off your feet not only figuratively, but literally?

Word Count: 15.8k

Pairing: Jimin x (gender neutral) Reader

Tags: Office Worker!Reader, Choreographer!Jungkook, Producer!Namjoon, Non-Idol!Au, Kinda Enemies to Lovers?? Haha idk

Genre: Fluff and angst, fluffy ending

Warnings: Swearing and mentions of alcohol

A/N: Wow what a long break I’ve taken haha! But I’m back (kinda) to post some one shots (slowly)! I’ve been working really hard on my graduate school writing sample and auto statements, and I’ve just started my senior year of college AND started a new job so I’ve been incredibly busy! I apologize nonetheless for my absence. It’s felt horrible being away. Very guilty lol. Anyway, thank you my dear for requesting and for being so so so SO patient with me. I hope you like the result!

Also, if you want to follow me on Twitter please do so! My handle is @/nirvana_namu. I would post a link, but rumor has it Tumblr killed links and I’m not taking any chances.

- Mercury

You’re not sure why you agreed to this.

Standing at the tippy top of a mountain, looking out over the entire surf as it roils in the golden island sun, you watch your best friend get strapped into a harness with a laugh that echoes through the humid air. His gaze is focused downward, along the slope of treetops leading to the water. A zipline. A really steep, really fast one. One of the longest in the world! Namjoon had proclaimed with no small measure of wonder in his round eyes before you’d boarded the plane side by side only a day prior. If you weren’t so scared, you’d want to paint it.

You really don’t know why you agreed to do any of this.

The vested employee adjusts the straps secured around Namjoon’s hips, tugs them once or twice — not nearly enough by your standards — and mumbles something unintelligible into the receiver of a walkie-talkie. Enveloped in greenery, Namjoon pauses to turn and look at you and, upon snagging your eyes, offers a big, stupid, dimpled grin. He waves one hand over his head at you as you wait to be loaded into the next harness. And it looks like his eyes are squinted against the sun, but really they’re squinted from the sheer force of his joy. A joy too big to be contained in a smile alone.

That’s exactly why, you think to yourself with a grimace as you shamble forward along the worn footpath, second-to-last in line, arms crossed over your torso as if they can protect you from whatever fresh hell Namjoon’s planned out.

The employee pats Namjoon’s bare shoulder before releasing him and sending him speeding down the swaying cable with a scream so loud it pierces your ears. His body falls out of sight for a frozen millisecond before the cable gives a mighty bounce and his head reappears, bobbing up and down as he slides toward the bottom. You wince, more out of fear than discomfort, and pause to peek over the edge of the loading platform, following the line of the cable all the way to the bottom. Your heart races as your eyes trace the dense tree line, seemingly endless, and the sheer drop that had claimed Namjoon just seconds before.

And that’s when, as you sweep your twitching gaze out behind you, you lock eyes with Park Jimin. Standing behind you, the very last of the group to depart down the cliffside, his lips are quirked into a smirk that reads cocky and his brows are raised, unyielding eyes stuck on you like tree sap. Of all people to be stuck with on the top of a mountain…

Your face goes hot and your spine stiffens by a few degrees. You stare back at him, trying to discern any measure of fear in his smiling expression, his half-exposed teeth, his rosy cheeks, his teasing brown eyes. But instead all you see is, as usual, a perfect facade of composure.

Well, that and a sinfully handsome face.

He saunters up beside you, scans you from head to toe, and hums a little. “Nervous?” he asks, as if he doesn’t already know.

You clear your throat, fan yourself with your hand as a futile defense against the jungle heat, and nod your head once. “Mm.”

Upon hearing your response, Jimin’s demeanor shifts a little. He uncrosses his arms and his smirk slips, brows raising. He leans closer to examine your face and you avert your gaze, heart hammering. “Whoa, you’re actually spooked, huh,” he remarks before glancing around the platform. “Shit, I don’t think the guide’s gonna let you turn back now.”

You’d expected him to make fun of you, perhaps laugh at your weak constitution. But this…

This is new.

Though well-meaning, Jimin’s words serve only to set your palms sweating and your heart racing faster. Your throat feels a little funny, tight like asthma. You shift your weight from foot to foot. “I-It’s fine,” you mumble, sliding past him as the employee beckons you forward with a lazy wave. “I’ll just…do it.”

Jimin hangs close behind you as the employee begins strapping you in, not sparing even a single word for you. “Hey, uh, my friend’s a little nervous,” Jimin says lowly to the young man working on hooking the harness around your hip. He glances up to meet your eyes before looking toward Jimin. “Any way you can, like, go gentle or something?” Jimin offers a convincing smile, the kind of grin that could get anyone to do anything.

The employee surprises you by releasing a puffy laugh and straightening to his full height, pausing to pat the dust off the backs of his legs. He chuckles and pats your back. “I can’t control the cable,” he says, then pauses for a moment to think. “But…,” he continues as Jimin turns pleading eyes his way, “if you’re feeling really nervous, I’ve heard it helps to shut your eyes and count to ten. Like, tell yourself you’re definitely gonna do it once you reach ten and just…go.”

You swallow hard and inhale sharply through your nose. “Alright,” you say, but his words have fled from your brain as soon as they’d been uttered. Your voice is shaky. Almost as shaky as your hands as you raise them to grip the straps of your harness.

Have you always had such a strong grip?

Your brain goes a little fuzzy, looking out over the precipice on which you stand, unsteady feet and rushing pulse. It’s dizzying. Like the world is spinning, but you’re not spinning with it. Or perhaps you’re spinning and it’s the world that’s gone still. Either way, the stretch of trees extending far beyond the tips of your hiking boots looks like it’s swaying on an axis, and each blink tilts the view some different way. You wonder if you’re breathing enough, or maybe too much, because your head is spinning. Like when you stand up too quickly after sitting for a while. You wonder if you’ll pass out before you reach the bottom.

If you reach the bottom.

Jesus, you hadn’t even considered the possibility of this stupid cable snapping. It doesn’t look too stable, upon closer inspection. Bouncing in the breeze. And as the employee finishes strapping you in, you pause for a moment to move your legs about and find, to your horror, that the straps are slightly loose.

Oh God.

You’re gonna throw up.

“Hey,” says a soft voice from beside you.

You feel a warm hand slide along the skin of your upper back, resting to cup your shoulder. Slowly, you turn your toward Jimin, standing with one arm wrapped around you and the other braced on his own knee so he can level his eyes with yours. He’s smiling a little. A different one this time, a soft one. The wind blows his dark hair from his eyes and carries the scent of his cologne. Somehow, you feel yourself relax a little against his side.

“It’s gonna be okay, alright?” he asks gently, and this is an entirely new Park Jimin to you. A tender young man with kind eyes. He smiles again and gives your shoulder a squeeze. “I’m right behind you.”

And for some reason, that comforts you. You don’t have time to dissect it however, as the employee takes up your other side and raises his brows, asking silently if you’re ready to go. Of course, you aren’t. How can you be? But again, Jimin squeezes your shoulder and seizes your attention with another smile, this one turning his eyes to crescents as he nods his head.

“Um…yeah,” you say, taking a moment to focus on your breath.

“Remember,” says Jimin as he steps away from you. “Count to ten, okay?”

“Okay,” you say, shutting your eyes.

One.

You’re gonna do it.

Two.

On ten, you’re just gonna go.

Three.

It’ll be fine.

Four.

Joon did it, and he’s fine.

Five.

And Tae before him, and that guy Jimin brought.

Six.

Nobody’s died yet.

Seven.

You can do it too.

Eight.

And even if I’m scared, at least you’re not alone up here.

Nine.

Jimin’s right behind you.

Ten.

Your scream rips through the valley below.

And, seconds later, so does your unfettered laughter.

You met Park Jimin on the worst day of your life a month ago. Freshly laid off from your job as a financial analyst — a job which Namjoon disliked from the start —, and disappointed by a string of bad dates after a catastrophic breakup, you’d agreed to meet up with a few college friends for a drink at your local stomping ground. You’d found Jimin sitting in the middle of a smoky bar with a girl on one arm and a guy on the other. Gross, was all you’d thought in passing. You’d paid him little mind, too busy wallowing in your own self pity to think too hard about any one thing, but it seemed he was incessant on grabbing your attention by any means necessary.

You’d sidled up to the bar, awaiting Namjoon’s I’m here text, and had only just ordered your drink when the strange young man with the unusually bright smile took up the space beside you. Now alone, he offered you a grin and his hand for you to shake. For a few seconds, you only stared at his outstretched palm. At the lines cutting across it. What was that long line called? The life line?

Eventually, however, you realized he wasn’t going anywhere, planted firmly in the wobbly barstool to your right, and you relented with a handshake. But that wasn’t what this stranger was after. He yanked you just a little once your hands connected.

“Hey, honey!” he said as he pulled you in toward his chest, sweeping you up in a tight, firm hug that knocked the wind from your lungs.

You were neither playful enough nor drunk enough to reciprocate and instead sat there stiffly, arms pressed against your sides as the stranger with the cute face hugged you close. Over his shoulder, you locked eyes with the girl who’d previously ornamented his left arm, watching you keenly, and it didn’t take you long to understand what was going on.

“Dodging an ex?” you whispered without moving your lips too much.

You felt a wave of shivers trace up your spine and it only took you a few seconds to realize why. It was just the sort of thing you imagined Hanseul doing if he ever bumped into you…

He chuckled. “Two, actually,” he responded as the young man he’d been entertaining also lifted his eyes from his drink to give you a once-over.

You sighed. “You’d better be buying my drink,” was all you said as the two of you broke away.

He’d laughed — that melodic sort of laugh that made you feel a little floaty — and rubbed your shoulder with a grin. “I’ll buy you twenty,” he joked, sliding the bartender a bill as he returned with your cocktail.

“So how’d you manage to get caught up with two exes at once?” you asked, nursing your glass.

He rubbed his jaw and shook his head, smiling at the bar table before him. “They were friends to begin with,” he said. And when you said nothing, only recoiled slightly, he met your eyes with a bright laugh. “C’mon don’t give me that look!”

You cleared your throat, turned away, and worked your straw between your teeth. “I dunno, sounds like maybe you brought it on yourself then,” you said, taking a healthy sip.

The stranger laughed again — more like a disbelieving scoff — and adjusted one of the several rings on his slender fingers. “Well I didn’t ask the two of them to come out tonight,” he said with a shrug. “And besides, neither of them looked unhappy to see me.”

“Ugh,” you mumbled, eyeing him sidelong as he chuckled.

He smirked and leaned across the bar toward you. “What?” he asked, and something about the heavy-lidded look he gave you, the simmering something in his eyes, made your pulse quicken. He rested his cheek in his hand and cocked his head to the side, now close enough to smell a whiff of his cologne. “You think I’m a bad guy?”

You swallowed hard before downing the rest of your drink and slamming the glass back on the bar. You waved the bartender over and pointed to the empty glass. Wordlessly, he began fixing you a replacement. You peeked back at the guy to find him smiling at you, musing perhaps, with the strangest mix of curiosity and pity in his expression.

You were definitely going to need another drink.

“Do good guys usually do stuff like that?” you asked, watching the bartender as he shook your drink around his metal tumbler.

He chuckled. “Can goodness be quantified by things like who we date?” he asked.

You stiffened. “Not by who you date,” you continued, shaking your head as memories of your own ex resurfaced. “But who you hurt, sure.”

He rolled his eyes, swiveling in his barstool to look at you head on. “Why’s it my fault who gets hurt?” he asked.

You cocked a brow. “You…can’t be serious…” But from the expression he wore you were certain that he was indeed quite serious.

He shrugged. “It’s not my intention to hurt someone, so why do I have to take responsibility if they get hurt?” he asked, then smirked and gave your thigh a nudge with his knee. “The way I see it, if you get hurt you’re the one whose expectations were too high.”

“That’s gross,” you said, inching away. You were inclined to simply leave, abandon this conversation and the bar at large and call it a night. But the bartender wasn’t finished with your drink and you weren’t about to piss him off. Not on a day like today. “If you’re dating someone, you’re committing to them.”

“What about polyamorous people?” he countered with a smug grin.

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not talking about polyamorous people. I’m talking about monogamy.”

“But why does everyone expect monogamy?” asked Jimin, tossing his hands up in the air with a breathy laugh. “Anyway, I always make it clear from the start that I’m not the kind of person who wants to be…well, you know…,” he started, then furrowed his brow and waved his hand. “Like, in a relationship.”

You sighed, nodded your thanks to the bartender as he slid you your drink, and watched as Jimin again offered cash in return. “And that’s fine, but you can’t expect someone to stick around and be okay with that.” You rubbed your temples as memories swirled together. “Be okay with half of you.”

If you really loved me, you’d understand that I could have any person in the world and you’d still be my number one!

Scumbag.

This gave him pause and, slowly, he shifted his eyes your way once more, scanning you. “Half of me?”

You nodded and downed a gulp of your drink with a wince. “Giving half is fine if the other person is giving half too. If you both only expect half,” you began, then ran your hands along your neck. Your skin was feverish, alcohol making your head light. “But if one person wants more, it’s not fair to string them along.”

He stared at you gravely, eyes hard and jaw set, and furrowed his brow. “That’s too old-school,” he said.

You huffed and crossed your arms. “It’s not old-school!” you said, wagging a finger at him. “It’s about respecting the other person enough to let them go when you realize you can’t be what they need.”

He pouted a little and rolled his eyes. “You sound ancient,” he said, then paused to give you a knowing smirk. “Wait, don’t tell me,” he began, scooting closer with a conspiratorial look. “You were scorned by your ex. Like…I dunno, like they cheated or something. Broke your heart, ruined your trust, blah, blah, blah. And now you’ve got this vendetta or something because you got hurt.” He grinned and wiggled his brows.

You stiffened, eyes wide, and stared at him. “I…,” you began.

He laughed from his gut and nodded. “Ah, nailed it, didn’t I?” he asked.

There was a cruel edge to his teasing, an ill-intentioned bite that felt like it was made to injure. You couldn’t quite put your finger on why, but you knew you felt it in that hazy bar, surrounded by throngs of people gathered here and there, enveloped in smoke and conversation. But like a heat-seeking missile, it seemed his words were engineered to uncover the softest parts of you and destroy them.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was something else, but your eyes welled with tears and your throat constricted. You stared at him, this stranger who had pegged you without err, and felt the weight of your frustrations pressing down on the tops of your shoulders like sandbags. And as he perceived the shift in your expression, his own face changed from a cold sort of scrutiny to a round-eyed concern that washed away all evidence of his previous behavior.

“Oh shit,” he said, standing up and blocking your face from view. You felt a few hot tears spilling over and were quick to wipe them, but the humiliation was there on display whether you cried or not.

He’d gotten you.

Luckily for you, Namjoon’s timing had been particularly impeccable that day and he’d barreled into the bar with a lopsided grin and clapped both you and the stranger on the backs, Taehyung and Yoongi sauntering behind him. You’d startled a bit, jumping slightly at his approach, but once again luckily — or perhaps unluckily — Namjoon seemed to have little regard for the poor mood he’d stepped into and didn’t seem to notice your glassy eyes as you buried your nose in your drink.

“Well jeez, look at you two already getting acquainted!” Namjoon exclaimed with a big laugh.

You paused your sipping for a moment to slide only your eyes up toward your friend. “Huh?”

He blinked down at you, one hand still clamped onto the stranger’s shoulder, and raised his brows. “Didn’t I tell you I was inviting some work friends?”

You spat your drink, sending droplets of sweet alcohol splattering across the bar. Quick to right yourself, you faced Namjoon properly and, sputtering, replied, “Him?”

Namjoon laughed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you guys didn’t introduce yourselves,” he said, adding theatrics to his heavy sigh. “This is Park Jimin. That choreographer I’ve been telling you about? He’s coming with us to Fiji.”

Still coughing up the remains of your rum and Coke, you pat your chest. This was the kind-hearted dance major wunderkind who dazzled everyone at Namjoon’s entertainment company? This was the kid who, at the age of twenty-four, had more accolades than both his predecessors combined? This was the guy who befriended all the trainees and brought them sports drinks during long days of practice?

This was the guy you were going to spend two weeks with on an island in the middle of the Pacific?

Namjoon, standing between the two of you, moved to taste your drink and as he leaned forward you locked eyes with the acclaimed young choreographer over the plane of his back. Park Jimin stared at you with wide eyes and lips parted as if to speak. But even after Namjoon had straightened up and begun complaining about your drink order, Park Jimin, still with mouth agape, said nothing.

And so, as you go ripping through the jungle on a wobbling cable, screaming and laughing and crying just a little, you wonder how exactly that very same Park Jimin is the one who comforted you into taking this leap of faith. Below your dangling feet is a patchwork of different greens, all bleeding into a motion blur as your body is propelled down toward the bottom platform. As you slide along, you can just see Namjoon’s figure, reduced to a small silhouette amongst the trees, as he stands waving like mad at the edge of the platform. Laughing, you shoot both hands above your head and wave them around, causing you to sway on the cable. Startled, you quickly return your hands to gripping the straps near your chest.

You feel like a bullet whizzing through humid air and then, all at once, friction takes hold once more and you seize, eyes squeezing shut from the whiplash, head throbbing just a little, suspended over the platform. You are greeted by a chorus of applause and hollers of encouragement as the employee begins the process of disconnecting you from your harness and, as your feet land stiffly on the concrete slab, you lift wild eyes to meet Namjoon’s. You find him still with that grin plastered across his face, hair windswept, shirt askew.

“Wow!” is all you can say as the group laughs.

Namjoon smiles and claps your shoulder. “Right?” he asks and you can only nod and turn your eyes back up toward the cliff from which you’d descended.

Now far too distant to discern amongst the foliage, the loading platform sits somewhere lost in green. And, without meaning to, your mind wanders back to Park Jimin and you wonder idly if he’s counting to ten.

Sunset drenches the island as you lounge on the warm sand, leaning back on your elbows with eyes half-shut as you gaze out at the glittering ocean touching the horizon line. The sky is darkening by degrees, with vibrant reds and oranges spreading like watercolor into the navy blue edges. And for a blissful moment, you’re alone with it. Alone with the profound. And you’re not thinking about the new job you’d taken, or the text messages Hanseul left you this morning, or the bills you know you’ve got to pay soon. You’re not thinking about anything.

It’s beautiful.

Of course, it’d be more beautiful with a pina colada, but you don’t let your mind linger there too long. After all, Namjoon said this trip was supposed to be about adventure and ‘finding yourself’. You aren’t sure how much of yourself you can really find at the bottom of a fruity drink.

Namjoon invited you on this trip a year ago. He’d done it in typical Namjoon fashion: calling you up at two in the morning and rambling incoherently for a while before eventually getting to the point. You’d become so used to his pipe dreams that you’d half expected this plan to fall through like the others. The second the words left his lips, you’d rolled your eyes.

“What I’m saying is,” he began, breathless over the phone, as you push yourself up onto your bottom, bed sinking beneath you, “let’s go to Fiji.”

“Joon…,” you groaned. “Please, I have work tomorrow-,”

“Listen, fuck your job,” he said and you could practically see him waving his hands like a man gone mad. “This is important. Like…might be the most important thing we’ve ever done together, you know?”

“Where is this even coming from?” you asked, stifling a yawn. You glanced out your window and saw the city painted black, pinpricks of yellow office building lights.

He sighed. “I was looking up tropical music for this new song I’m working on for the trainees and I stumbled upon this incredible video about Fiji.”

“Like a generic white girl vlog?” you asked with a laugh, but Namjoon seemed deathly serious as he remained silent. You paused a moment. “Wait, you’re like…for real with this, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, of course.” He was quiet. “I just…I dunno…I guess, while we’re still young enough to do it, I wanna experience something incredible. While we still can. While things are still like this.”

“What do you mean?” You raised a hand to open your window, let in some cool night air, but as you jammed your hand along the pane, the thing only rattled dumbly in response. You huffed, focused.

“I mean life is transient and nothing’s guaranteed,” he said. “Who knows who we’ll be tomorrow, you know? Who knows how long these moments will last?”

You stilled for a moment, staring out your closed window, hand still poised to force it open. You glanced over your shoulder at your tiny apartment — clothes strewn over every piece of furniture, easel gathering dust in the corner of your living room, unused for the better part of a year, paintings still unhung propped against walls on the floor — and couldn’t help but sigh. As silver moonlight filtered in through your curtains, you felt an unfamiliar tug in your chest. A longing that didn’t make sense.

You had the job, the boyfriend, the social life…

You had it all.

But why did Namjoon’s words make you feel so hollow?

And before you even realized what you were doing, you replied, “How much is it gonna cost?”

“What’re you thinking about?” asks a soft voice from beside you.

Startled, you scramble slightly, sending a spray of sand flying through the air. You sputter a little, having inhaled too quickly for your lungs to handle, and squint against the golden sun. But as you settle enough to face the person beside you, you’re surprised to see it’s Jimin. Sunset drenches the expanse of shoreline, catches in the ends of his black hair, outlines the side of his rosy cheek as he gives you an easy smile.

You raise your brows. “Hm?”

He chuckles, rubs the back of his neck, and shrugs as he digs the heels of his hands into the sand, leans back on them. “Just…looked pensive.”

“Pensive…,” you repeat, mulling it over. You purse your lips. “I guess just…thinking about this trip.”

“What about it?”

“Just…why I even bothered coming,” you begin, then chuckled and eyed him sidelong. “You saw how I was today. The whole…adventure thing isn’t really my scene.”

He smiles, revealing on closer inspection one charming crooked tooth, and tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean? You looked like you were having the time of your life!” he says, nudging you with his elbow.

You smile at your knees, now pulled toward your chest, and sigh. “Thanks for saying that, but you know I was a mess.”

He pouts a little. “You weren’t.”

Glancing his way, you find him with furrowed brows staring distantly at the ocean. “Mm…,” you mumble in response.

He sighs. “You were scared,” he begins, then shrugs. “But you did it anyway. What’s so bad about that?”

You sense that he’s perhaps talking about something else while talking about you. Like he’s saying two things at once. But you don’t bother prying. Instead, you simply sigh and join him staring at the surf.

“It’s beautiful, huh?” you remark as the two of you sit side by side. And there’s a gentle sort of quiet between you, one you never expected to share with someone like Jimin.

But somehow, here he is. And looking at him as he watches the waves splash forward and recede, you can’t help but feel a little guilty for your attitude towards him. Guilty for the dread you’d felt as you boarded the plane behind him. Guilty for the scowl you’d worn as he walked beside you on the trail up to the zipline today. Guilty for the complaints you’d aired to Namjoon about him.

“Yeah,” he says with a pleasant, lazy smile.

Birdsongs welcome you to the fresh island morning. Lazily, you roll onto your side and peel your eyes open, straining against the sunlight pouring in through your ocean-facing windows. You yawn, pushing yourself up onto your bottom to stretch sore arms above your head. You twist your torso this way and that, crack your knuckles, point your toes as you extend your legs before you. The room is filled with bright morning light, all hardwood floors and tapestries on the walls. You glance around your bedroom – one of eight private rooms in this massive Airbnb – and realize with a start that this is the first morning in years that you haven’t immediately grabbed for your phone to check for work emails.

You expect, perhaps, to be unnerved by this. This lack of structure, lack of organization.

But, perhaps more unsettlingly, you are…

Surprisingly calm.

You shake your head and pad on bare feet into the bathroom beside your room. As you brush your teeth, you lock sleepy eyes with your reflection and can’t help but crack a little smile. For the first time in a long time, you look like you’ve had a proper night’s sleep.

You emerge in the living room a few moments later to find Taehyung – Namjoon’s stylist friend – and Seokjin – Namjoon’s actor friend – still sleeping on the couch, the TV still droning on as they’d likely forgotten to turn it off. And, standing in the kitchen by himself nursing a cup of coffee and a calm smile, is Namjoon. He’s caught a bit of a tan, glowing in the gentle sunlight, and his eyes are warm and fond as he looks out across the living room at his friends.

As quietly as you can manage, you maneuver around the sleeping boys and take a place beside Namjoon, resting a hip against the marble counter. “Morning,” he says softly.

You nod once. “Morning,” you repeat, and hold your hand out for his mug of coffee, wiggling your eager fingers. He chuckles and relents without much fight, offering the handle to you carefully. You take a warm, welcome sip and sigh. “How’d you sleep?” you ask.

He hums a little and adjusts the sleeve of his loose tee. “So tired I didn’t even dream,” he says with a laugh.

Smiling you reply, “Me either.”

He eyes you with a knowing smile and squints a little. Like he’s teasing you. “You like it here, don’t you?” he asks.

You roll your eyes and give his shoulder a healthy shove. He laughs in response, but says nothing more as you sweep your gaze out toward the wall of windows leading down to the beach. It’s immaculate in the morning time. Not a single silhouette dots the shoreline, only fishing boats just beyond the surf. Tourists are still asleep, you reckon, and you feel a little proud to not be one of them sleeping away the most beautiful hours of the day. You can see faint traces of clouds ringing the horizon, and the pastel yellows of sunrise giving way to the azure blue sky.

“It’s…really nice,” you admit with a nod, sipping the coffee once more. And, without meaning to, you think of Jimin yesterday. His hand on your shoulder, his comforting words reminding you to ground yourself before you floated away. “Yeah…,” you add, concealing an unintended smile.

Namjoon, however, has always been the smarter one out of the two of you and, predictably, he catches this shift in your expression and turns to you head on with raised brows. “Whoa!” he remarks with a grin. He points to your face with his index finger. “Look at that!”

You swat his hand away with a laugh and roll your eyes. “Lay off, alright? I’m having a good time. Isn’t that the whole point?”

He chuckles and sighs as he rests once more beside you. Gently, he lifts a hand to softly pat the top of your head. You’re certain your shock registers plainly on your face as he pats again. “I’m proud of you,” he says.

And in the simplest of phrases, he’s managed to pluck something profound from inside of you. You don’t need to ask to know precisely what he means.

Why does it make you want to cry?

“Morning,” says a quiet voice from behind Namjoon and, leaning slightly so you can see around your friend’s broad chest, you notice Jimin standing there and can’t help but smile.

He glances between Namjoon and you for a few seconds, brows lifted as if in question, before Namjoon clears his throat and wordlessly excuses himself, snatching his coffee on his way back into the living room where he begins rallying the boys awake.

You sigh, running a finger along the countertop’s perfect edge. “What’s on the agenda for today?” asks Jimin as he settles beside you.

You pause to think. “Um…,” you begin, tapping your lips with your fingers. “I think…,” you continue, musing as you begin to work your lower lip between your index finger and thumb. “Something about ATVs.”

But before you’ve even finished your sentence, Jimin has seized your hand in his and is now standing so close you can smell the scent of his detergent wafting up from his pajama shirt. He stares down at you with heavy-lidded eyes and a smirk, gaze flashing around your face before landing on your lips as he pulls both your hands down toward your shoulder. Your heart begins to race, eyes wide, skin hot where his fingers touch yours, and you swallow hard as he chuckles a few times, his breath fanning out across your warm face.

“Sorry,” he says, voice low and breathy. “It was distracting.” He then drops your hand and swivels on his heel, back toward the hallway from which he’d come. He pauses, however, to shoot you a wink over his shoulder. “Hard to focus when you do that,” he says, tapping his own plump lower lip with his fingertip before offering a wave and meandering down the hall.

And you stand there dumb, heart pounding so loud you can’t hear the crashing waves just outside the window.

You were shocked when you found out Hanseul had been messing around behind your back. Gutted, really. If it hadn’t been for Hanseul leaving his Instagram logged on to your phone, you’d probably never have found out to begin with. He’d always been that sort of guy, though.

Reckless.

And how very cliche, you’d thought as you read through months of exchanged messages, that he’d exchanged you like a used car for a newer model once he’d gotten tired of you. You dragged your finger almost lazily across the screen, brows raised as you rested on your couch, reruns of The Office blending into background noise. And where perhaps you’d expected hurt and resentment, you found only a grim acceptance.

Of course, you thought to yourself with a strange chuckle as you read the most recent message. A sappy sort of love IM that made your stomach churn. Riddled with sentimentality and grand platitudes, the messages reminded you of the ones you’d exchanged with Hanseul in the beginning. The ones that made you hopeful. Of course.

Somewhere amongst that grim acceptance, however, was something you didn’t expect. Something primal. A sort of fear that had no name.

Fear, perhaps, of the implications.

Fear of all the things that would have to change, all the comforts you’d known for years chipping away like old paint left on the wall too long.

And so, like a house of cards, your world shook and crumbled mightily down to its very foundation.

You’re slack-jawed as you stare at the row of ATVs standing equidistant before you. Eight identical machines pointed down the rolling hills behind you. An instructor standing with a grin and hands on her hips as she watches you scan the locomotives with your eyes wide and round. Beside you is Namjoon, smiling too broadly for his face to accommodate, with Seokjin and Taehyung drowsily fighting yawns. Jimin stands on your other side, arms crossed as he smirks at the ATVs like he’s done it all and seen it all before. His friend Jungkook is practically vibrating with anticipation, and Hoseok – another choreographer from the company – stands whispering in low tones with Yoongi, the young PD Namjoon never stops talking about.

The imposing green trees sway in the breeze around you: all potential threats as your group nears the line of ATVs. You wonder just how long you can manage on one of the things before hitting one of those tall waving trees. Anxiously, you glance over your shoulder at the hills extending as far as you can see. More possibilities for horrific injury.

As you tromp through the yielding sand underfoot, you feel someone step closer to you and you don’t need to lift your eyes from your boots to know who it is.

“You know, if you’re scared-,” Namjoon begins, but you silence him with a look, gaze severe.

He raises his hands in surrender before chuckling and patting your shoulder. He says nothing more as he swerves around you to hook his elbow around Taehyung’s neck. The two, laughing, continue toward the row of ATVs. Taking a moment to manage your breath, you press your palm against the rubber handle. You shut your eyes.

One.

You’re getting on this fucking ATV.

Two.

You’ve come this far, you can’t chicken out now.

Three.

You always chicken out.

Four.

When was the last time you did something that scared you this much?

Five.

Well…yesterday.

Six.

Before that though.

Seven.

When was the last time you took a risk?

Eight.

When was the last time you did something you wanted to do?

Nine.

Something you really wanted…

Ten.

You take a long inhale, nod once, and swing your leg over the side of the ATV. With both shaking hands gripping the handlebars, you glance to the side to see everyone else has mounted their vehicles, except for one. Jimin stands at the end of the line, talking with the guide too quietly to hear, but the way he’s waving his hands makes it seem like there’s a problem. The guide glances around, brows knit, before shrugging his shoulders and cupping a hand around the side of his mouth to shout.

“Hey guys! Looks like we’re one ATV short! Someone’s gonna have to share!” he calls, and grumbles resound around the group.

Beside you, Namjoon and Taehyung complain about having to share, both clearly not too keen on offering Jimin a spot on their ATV. You briefly feel bad for him, standing on the edge without a place to go to. You wonder if he feels left out, or if perhaps he’s considering staying back so the guide can show you the way. Without meaning to, you turn your head and lock eyes with Jimin and the instant you to you wish you hadn’t. Because now his eyes have lit up and his face is splitting in a small, hopeful smile.

And you know you’re cooked.

With a sigh, you raise your hand and wave it like mad, beckoning Jimin over. After all that, the breathing exercises and everything, after finding your courage, here you are handing over the reins.

“You can ride with me,” you say with a sigh as Jimin emerges at your side, smiling bright.

“Thank you,” he says with a laugh before hoisting himself up behind you.

“Oh!” you exclaim as Jimin rests his hands on his knees, right beside your thighs. He leans around your side and eyes you with wide brows. “I figured you’d wanna drive…,” you say, face going hot.

He blinks at you for a moment longer than normal before splitting into a grin and nudging your hip with his knee. “Well why would I do that?” he asks, rolling his eyes. “You looked really determined.”

Just like that, he understands exactly how you feel.

Startled, you turn to face him halfway, twisting your torso awkwardly as you lock eyes. He’s still smiling, still bright. The apples of his cheeks are redder than yesterday, and the bridge of his nose. A sunburn. He looks peaceful. As if he trusts you to drive this massive machine. As if it’s not even a thought that’s crossed his mind.

As if he never even considered taking this ATV from you.

“You guys ready?” shouts the guide with a hoot.

The boys around you holler their responses but you stay silent, still just staring at Jimin as he shields his face from the sun with one hand, still smiling, still peaceful.

You grip the handlebars and kick the ATV to life.

You first met Namjoon when you were in high school. He was a grade above you, so you’d never had reason to speak with him. Aside from passing him in the halls every now and again, you didn’t really interact with him at all. But things changed when he approached you after class as you finished cleaning off the blackboards. You’d stayed behind not because you wanted to, but because your classmate had pawned their classroom duties on you after a miserable game of Gin Rummy at lunch. You hadn’t protested much once the responsibility had fallen on your shoulders.

Another excuse to avoid going home.

Bony knuckles rapped against the blackboard beside your head and you jumped out of your skin, releasing a scream several octaves higher than you anticipated. But as the moment of panic passed, you realized with a start that the one who’d roused your attention was indeed upperclassman Kim Namjoon. And there he stood with a small dimpled smile and gentle eyes scanning you. You weren’t sure what he was looking for when he looked at you, but the way he tilted his head to the side made you think that perhaps he’d found it.

“Hey,” he said, face outlined by the last golden rays of autumn daylight.

You swallowed hard and took half a step back toward the podium. “Uh…hi…?”

“This yours?” he asked, dangling a sketchbook before you with one hand.

It took you several moments of squinting at the Strathmore sketchbook to realize that, in fact, it was yours. Your name was right there in the right corner where you’d scribbled it a month ago. And there was the tear in the cover from when your mother had tried to rip the thing from your hands – unsuccessfully.

A rush of fear swelled through you and you snatched the pad from his outstretched hands like you were a prisoner and he was offering you food. Scared he’d rescind his offer if given even a moment to think it over. And as you clutched the thing to your chest, you scanned him with narrowed eyes.

“Where did you get this?” you asked. You were certain you had kept it safely in your bookbag since lunch. But glancing at the bookbag again, you found it surprisingly empty.

Namjoon raised his brows and raised his hands in surrender. “I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he said, then chuckled with a shrug. “What kind of thief would return the thing they stole anyway?”

You paused for a moment, brows furrowed, before sighing and nodding. “I guess that’s true,” you admitted before gently guiding the sketchbook back into the mouth of your backpack. “Um…,” you hedged as you turned back to the guy. You held out your hand to him and he rolled up the long sleeve of his uniform cardigan to take it in his own. “Thanks,” you finished with a shake.

He shook his head. “Don’t mention it,” he said, laughing a little. “Had to ask around to find out which class you were in though.”

You felt a warm bloom of embarrassment and pulled your hand away, shoving it back into your pocket and averting your eyes. “I don’t have a job or anything,” you said.

He blinked at you. “Hm? What’re you talking about?”

You rubbed the side of your arm and shrugged. “My family’s kinda poor too. Like, we do fine, but my parents are really serious about money so…,”

“What’s your point?” asked Namjoon with wide, curious brown eyes.

You stared at him for a moment, puzzled, before continuing. “Aren’t you gonna ask for, like, reward money or something?”

He released a booming, chesty laugh before waving his arms like mad and shaking his head. “No! God, do I look like a thug to you?”

You eyed him from top to bottom and shrugged. “I don’t really know what a thug is supposed to look like.”

He sighed and gripped the bridge of his nose between his fingertips. “Forget the money,” he said, pausing to give you a warm smile. “I just wanted to meet the person who made those drawings.”

You went stiffer than a board. For a moment, time stood still. Namjoon froze before you, the gently falling leaves outside the classroom window froze, and you froze too. Like your feet were rooted to the ground.

“You…did you look through it?” you asked softly, too horrified to raise your voice above a bare whisper.

He nodded. “Of course,” he said. “I was looking for a phone number or something on the inside flap, but then I got distracted by the art.”

“You…”

“You’re really talented,” he said, offering another big smile. “Like, you could go pro if you wanted to.”

You swallowed hard, your throat constricting, and chucked the dirty blackboard eraser on the podium with a puff of fine dust. Without another word, you zipped up your backpack and slung it over your shoulders. You walked past him quickly, not even sparing him a glance, and walked faster when he followed you, calling after you and begging you to turn around.

Namjoon followed you around for a month after that: waiting outside your classroom after school, catching you off guard as you sketched in the courtyard during your lunch break, walking his bike behind you as you led the way to the bus stop, cheering for you at the sports festival and causing you to miss the volleyball coming straight for you. Every time he’d come around, you’d turn grey with horror and you wouldn’t say a word. But luckily for you, Namjoon said plenty enough for both of you. It was always, When are you gonna join the drawing club?or,You should start working on a portfolio, or, If you love art so much, why aren’t you applying to an arts college?

You didn’t bother asking how he knew where you were applying. As you’d gotten to know him, you’d begun to understand his uncanny ability to secure sensitive information from teachers. It seemed they all loved him about as much as you despised him. Not long after that comment, you finally began responding when he spoke to you. And you even began bickering like real friends.

After a while, you grew accustomed to him being around all the time. To the point that, when he graduated a year before you and went on to pursue a degree in music, you’d felt almost lonesome without him. And to the point that, when you texted him about your choice to pursue a degree in business, you were almost relieved when he caught the late bus out to your house to scold you.

One day you’re gonna snap, he’d said that night in a moment of calm. You’re gonna finally have enough of living for them. And it’s gonna hurt when it happens. Bad.

But the scolding had never been enough.

Because, in the end, that persistent fear ran like still waters through your body.

You’re realizing more and more that it’s the same fear. That it’s always been the same fear. Back then when you were so scared of losing Hanseul that you considered not even telling him you’d found the messages. In high school when you were too scared to show anyone your sketchbook. Even now, as you straddle the vibrating ATV, Jimin’s arms wrapped lazily around your middle as he giggles behind you, you’re scared to make a single sound for fear of messing up your focus on the hills before you.

If you really think about it, it’s all the same.

When you boil it down to its core, it’s always been the same.

Fear of fucking up.

Like you’ve been walking a tightrope from the start, and any small misstep will result in you plummeting, face first, into the ground below.

Your knuckles go white against your skin as you clutch the handlebars. Stiff, you follow the guide as he vaults over a hill, having no choice but to do the same. You launch your ATV over the sandy bump, sending both you and Jimin flying through the air. And even though a part of you expects to go splat in the dirt, after a few weightless seconds of flight, the two of you return to earth in one piece. This time, it isn’t Jimin’s laughter that startles you.

It’s your own.

“Holy shit!” Namjoon shouts as he runs toward you, face covered in fine dust. He grins at you like you’re his child, and as you slide off the side of the ATV, he sweeps you up in a big hug, laughing. “You did so good!”

You laugh too, patting his flexed bicep, and lean away slightly to get a better look at his dirty face. “God,” you say with a laugh, running the pad of your fingertip along his cheek, leaving behind a stripe of clean skin. “You need a shower, Joon.”

He nods and peels himself away, turning his attention to Jimin behind you. “You don’t look so good,” he remarks with raised brows.

And as you turn to see for yourself, you notice that in fact Jimin doesn’t look so good. Up until then it had been all laughter and smiles and playful squeezes, but now that he was standing in the dirt, arms crossed, leaning back against the ATV with his helmet in his hand, he looked…less than pleased. He watches you and Namjoon with narrowed eyes.

Oh God, you think in a moment of blind panic, I bet he wanted to drive the ATV after all…

But the moment Namjoon approaches and claps his hand against Jimin’s shoulder, the latter perks up and his eyes go bright once more. He turns a grin towards you and offers a big thumbs up. The sky above his waving hair is a perfect blue, and the sun is unrelenting, but somehow his smile is brighter. Carefully, you join the duo and pat the ATV with a sigh. Looking at it now, it doesn’t seem so scary at all. And after all the tips your guide had given throughout the course, you feel ready to do it all again if you get the chance.

Jimin eyes you with a fond smile. “How’d you like it?” he asks.

You hum. “It was…really exhilarating,” you say with a grin. Gently, you reach out your hand for Jimin to shake and without missing a beat he laughs and takes it.

But instead of shaking it, he gives a sharp yank and you go tumbling into his chest. Heart hammering, you struggle to regain your footing, but before you can process what’s going on, Jimin wraps both arms around your back and holds you tight. You’re sure your face reveals your chagrin, so you’re careful to keep it buried in his chest. And although it’s muffled through the fabric of his shirt, you can hear Jimin’s heart thumping quick.

“Thanks for letting me ride with you,” he says quietly against your hair.

You swallow hard, nerves making your hands sweat, and nod once. “Um…yeah, of course.” You can’t help the nervous laugh that escapes your parted lips and, hesitantly, you reach around to pat Jimin’s back with one hand. “It was fun.”

He backs up with a smile, but keeps one hand on your shoulder. “Yeah. Let’s do it again when we get home.”

You laugh again, eyes wide. “Are there ATV courses at home?”

Jimin pauses, purses his lips, and shrugs. “Let’s find out.”

Namjoon snaps his fingers. “Shoot! What time is it?” he asks, brows knitting.

You check the watch around your wrist and squint at it, but it’s hard to focus on anything with Jimin still touching you. “Um…half past two,” you say, brain foggy as Jimin steps closer.

He glances over your shoulder to stare intently at your wristwatch. Easily, he slides his hand along your shoulder blades before letting it rest at the small of your back. You can feel the ends of his hair tickling your hot cheek. He hums a little beside you and nods once, as if he is simply verifying the time. Perhaps he is simply doing that.

“Shoot!” Namjoon exclaims again. “If we don’t leave, like, now we’re gonna be late for snorkeling!”

Without meaning to, you slide your eyes toward Jimin and raise your brows only to find him staring at you with the same expression. The two of you share a knowing look before breaking into small smiles.

“Wouldn’t wanna be late for snorkeling,” Jimin says under his breath as Namjoon jogs back toward the guide, all the while frantically miming with his hands.

You grin. “God forbid.”

Hanseul said something once that really stuck with you. Not the sort of sentimental thing that you thought might’ve stuck with you, but something entirely mundane. Something trivial, something said in passing.

It was a Sunday afternoon. Neither of you had work, so you’d decided to take a nice long drive through the city. The sky was endlessly blue and beautiful, and even though you were just one car in the infinite stream of vehicles on the highway, you felt somehow free. With the windows rolled down all the way and music bumping softly through Hanseul’s car’s speaker, you remember shutting your eyes and just…breathing for a minute. And that was enough.

“Jesus Christ!” Hanseul shouted with a belabored sigh, and your eyes snapped open once more. You were quick to locate the source of his frustration and found, merging into your lane from the right, a massive freight truck. “I will never understand the hubris of semi drivers who think it’s a good idea to pass other semi drivers.”

Settling your racing heart, you sighed and breathed a laugh. “Impatience I guess,” you remarked, but he was prickly beside you and you knew he wasn’t finished.

He scoffed. “As if passing that guy is gonna get him there any faster,” he said, then rolled his eyes and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Everyone should just go their own pace.”

And with that, he stopped talking. And you returned to leaning your head against the passenger doorframe, gazing out at the line of cars entering the highway.

The sun is white hot on your bare skin as you tread water, face bobbing just below the ocean’s surface. Floating like a buoy, you squint into the endless blue to catch a glimpse of some wildlife. It’s not as easy as it looks on Instagram, that much is clear to you now. The waves waves are gentle but restless as they rock you around and the plastic of the snorkel pushes uncomfortably against the sensitive skin of your lips. Your arms and legs are still sore from the previous day’s hike, and now your thighs ache from gripping the ATV. But somehow, despite the hardiness of it all, as you float parallel to the ocean floor, you can’t help but stare with wide-eyed wonder every time a flash of red fin or plume of underwater dust catches your eye. And so, mystified, you swim onward.

You feel someone swim up beside you, but it’s too much labor to look and you can’t tear your eyes away from a particularly beautiful fish cresting over the top of some coral beyond your fingertips. It’s only when that someone taps your shoulder that you finally snap from your daze and, blinking quickly, burst out from beneath the water and shove your snorkel to the side. Fearing catastrophe, you turn gasping toward Jimin as he wades beside you with a grin.

And your heart settles down.

You pat your chest a little and sigh. “Jesus,” you mumble.

“Scared you?” he asks, and from this close it’s hard not to get caught up in the brown of his eyes, in the wet ends of his dark hair as they dangle just above his eyebrows.

With the saltwater and the sunlight kissing his skin, he’s practically glowing.

You shake your head. “What’s up?” you ask.

He points with one finger toward the water below and wiggles his brows. “You wanna go down with me? The instructor said it’s really awesome.”

You stare at him for a long moment, trying to discern any malintent or ulterior motive and, upon gleaning none, settle for a nervous, breathy laugh. “Ah, I dunno…,” you say, rubbing your nose with the side of your finger. You look away, toward Jungkook’s fins as they flap violently against the glassy surface of the water. “I’m happy just looking from up here.”

Jimin hums a little. “You sure?” he asks, eyeing you like he knows something you don’t. “You seemed really into it when I came over.”

You swallow hard and your mouth tastes like seawater and anxiety. “No, I’m…,” you start, but it’s weak. The sentence trails into nothing.

He smiles bright enough to blind and you almost have to shield your eyes. “Come on,” he says, offering his hand toward you. “We’ll go down together and come back up together. I’ll hold your hand the whole time.”

You stare at his outstretched fingers, pruny and slightly sunkissed, and ponder for a moment. Were you always so tepid? So lukewarm? Wasn’t there ever a time in your life when you did things just because they sounded fun? Thinking back, it’s hard to pinpoint the precise moment you became so pragmatic, so afraid. Perhaps when your parents told you a career in art wouldn’t work out for you. That you didn’t have the stuff. Perhaps even before that.

But deep down, buried deeper than you’d like you admit, there’s a part of you that’s always wanted to zipline through the jungle. To ride ATVs. To see the coral up close.

That slumbering part of you is beginning to awaken.

And you wonder as you take Jimin’s hand with an uncertain smile if this has been your pace all along.

He giggles and the two of you dive in unison. You follow the instructions the snorkeling teachers gave you on the boat, and you hold your breath just the way you’re supposed to. Nonetheless, the deeper you swim, the cooler the water becomes and the more your nerves begin to rattle.

Only this time, you don’t find it unpleasant. Not at all, actually.

Because Jimin’s hand is warm.

The two of you coast to a stop in front of the vibrant red coral as a school of orange fish rushes by in a wave. You both reel back for only a moment and then, catching each other’s eyes, exchange the biggest smiles your snorkels allow. And boy is Jimin right. It is awesome. You swear you’ve never seen colors like this. Juxtaposed against the perfect blue all around, the coral reef stands like a mountain underwater, fish flying like birds around the jagged pink peaks, hiding in the deep purple. Anemones wave so close you’re tempted to touch them, and as you lean closer for a better look, you see a red seahorse nestled beside a green sea plant. As if sensing you there, the tiny fish scoots out from its cover and makes its way toward you. Eagerly, you extend your index finger and the creature nudges you just slightly before continuing on its way to the other side of the coral barrier.

Your heart is pounding, racing like a sports car and loud like one too. You turn toward Jimin with eyes blown wide and he’s grinning at you, so fond. He gives your hand a squeeze and you can’t help but squeeze back. Wordlessly, he jerks his head toward the surface, and the way the water plays with his hair makes it look like silk. You’re distracted for a moment by how beautiful it is, how beautiful he is, but he squeezes your hand again and once more jerks his chin upward. Ah! You need air!

You only realize it as Jimin makes a motion toward the surface, but now that you’re conscious of it it’s all you can think of. Q

You could’ve been nicer {BTS} pt. 3

Part 1 /Part 2

Summary: How do the boys react when you tell them “I think you could’ve been nicer to me today”?

Jung Hoseok

You were lying next to each other bodies tangled as an aftermath of the activities you just finished. Both of you were still slightly breathing heavy. Hobi had one arm wrapped around you and brushed his fingertips gently your arm up and down. Your hand rest on his bare chest and you were tempted to tease his hardend nipple but decided to tease him other wise.

“Hoseok?” “Hm?” he answered immediatly hearing his real name fall from your lips and not any type of pet name. “What’s wrong?” he asked trying to see your face to identify how you were feeling. “I think you could’ve been nicer to me today.” you said while hiding your face because there was no way you could hide your smile. His whole body tensed up and you kind of felt bad - but also not. “Wait, what?” he asked and you could hear that he felt sorry through his voice. “Was I too rough?” he asked and blood flushed to your cheeks. When you didn’t answer he pulled away gently and cupped your face with his hand to make you look at him. “Did I hurt you?” he asked and he was seriously concerned about your well being. His eyes were looking for anytype of discomfort he might have caused you. “No you could’ve been just a little nicer.” you said and his eyes looked sad all of a sudden and this time you felt really bad.

“I’m so sorry. I thought you would tell me if anything isn’t the way you want. I’m sorry. I’ll be more carefull next time. I thought you liked it rough since you never said anything.” he apologized and suddenly his eyes went wide. “Was I too rough the whole time? Did I hurt you this whole time?” he said and his voice sounded a few octaves higher feom shock. “Oh baby no!” you backtracked immediately as you saw that your prank backfired. “I was joking. I was just joking.” you ensured him but he shook his head. “No, you need to tell me stuff like this. You can’t keep it to yourself just because you think my feelings will get hurt. Your safety is more important than…”

“Hoseok it was a joke! I pranked you!” you interrupted him and pressed your palm against his mouth to make him shut up. “I was just trying to get a reaction out of you. It’s a trend that’s going around.” you explained and leaned down to his ear,”I love it when you take me rough and ruthless all night long.” you purred and your hot breath against his ear gave him goosebumps. Suddenly he flipped you over and was hovering over you. “I’ll show you rough and ruthless.”

Park Jimin

Jimin came into the living room after he changed into something comfy and let himself fall right onto the couch next to you. He laid his head in your lap and you brushed your fingers through his hair. “Min.” you called him and he opened his eyes. “I feel like you could’ve been nicer to me today.” you said and he let out a tired chuckle. “What do you mean?” he asked and closed his eyes again. “Just that you could’ve been nicer.” you said and he turned onto his back and opened his eyes to look up at you. “Babe I haven’t seen you in a week. Let alone today. I literally came home two hours ago.” he explained and tried to understand what you were getting at. “How could I have been not nice?” he asked and was about to blow your cover but you suddenly forgot about the prank. “You’re right. I almost never see you. There is no time for nice things.” you said under your breath and your sudden change in mood made him sit up and look at you. “Hey.” he said to grab your attention and you looked at him. You chuckled sadly and shook your head. “Nevermind. I was trying to prank you but it kind of backfired. Forget about it. You’re tired. You should rest.” you said and patted your legs to signal him to lay back down.

“Are you mad at me?” he asked and you sighed. “No! No, of course not.” you said and took his hand into yours. “I just missed you. And you rubbing in that you’re almost never around didn’t make it better.” you explained and he chuckled while wrapping his arm around you and pulling you close to him. “You accused me of not being nice.” he said and kissed the top of your head. You poked his tummy and he laughed. “It was supposed to be funny.” you said now realizing that it was just stupid. “It’s funny now.” he laughed and you rolled your eyes. “Shut up.” you pouted and he tightened his hug while you felt his chest vibrate from his laughter.