Jikook's Fanfiction Collection

Youre my human's holidays

Jimin is so very, utterly screwed, Jeongguk thinks with both a small smirk and satisfaction as he tosses the note onto Jimin’s desk five feet away from him. The other boy looks up, startled, and then his eyes fall on the piece of paper laying in front of him. The notebook paper crinkles as Jimin opens it, and Jeongguk makes sure to gaze dead ahead so the teacher doesn’t suspect anything. She turns around and glares at both of them before putting her back to them again and continuing to drone on.

Jimin risks a glance at Jeongguk and his eyes literally scream, “why?” He points to the note like he can’t quite believe it, and he probably can’t—the stakes have never been this high before. If Jimin goes through with this, his life will most definitely be in danger. A smile slides onto Jeongguk’s face, and he makes sure to stuff the grin into the sleeve of his sweatshirt so Jimin doesn’t see. He can’t know how gleeful Jeongguk is about this.

The rest of class passes by with the occasional pout from Jimin, and Jeongguk’s resolve almost crumbles; they’ve been best friends since they were five, and the way Jimin’s lips grow twice in size combined with the way his eyes glitter always gets Jeongguk. He remains strong, though, and so after class he’s just minding his own business waiting outside the door for Jimin when a pair of fingers digs right into his ribs. He yelps, and a glare is already set on his face when he whirls around to look at his attacker. Honestly, he doesn’t even have to turn around to know it’s Jimin; after 11 years of friendship he knows every curve of Jimin’s body. The laugh gives it away, too.

“That was so unnecessary,” Jeongguk twists out of Jimin’s reach and bats his hand away. “I didn’t even do anything.”

“Yes you did, Jeonggukkie! I’m literally going to die. I can’t go through with this.” Jimin whines, and that all-too-familiar pout is back on his face. All Jeongguk can think is that he’s going to die before Jimin does if he keeps up this pouting business—his chest is so tight it might explode.

“Yes, you can. You’re not going to die. You might just get severely maimed.” Jeongguk supplies with a laugh, and Jimin scrunches up his face at him.

“That’s not helping. Jeongguk, please, do not make me do this. I can’t pants Jin-hyung, he’ll have my head and then you’re not going to say anything nice at my funeral because you’ll be too busy laughing at how I died.”

“Are you using your chicken?” Jeongguk’s voice is light and innocent when he says this, and his eyes are wide and childlike. He knows Jimin won’t use his chicken—to them, dares are a religion, and to use your chicken is to commit the biggest sin of all. In the four years they’ve been daring each other to do things, neither of them has ever used a chicken. No matter how dumb or dangerous the dare, they always, always go through with it. Jeongguk thinks that it has less to do with pride and more to do with stupidity, even though he prides himself on being an intelligent individual.

“Jeonggukkie, don’t make me. You can’t. If you really love me, you won’t make me do this.” Jimin’s eyes meet his, and Jeongguk’s heart literally plummets down to his stomach because shit, shit, shit, he’s giving Jeongguk the look that makes him weak at the knees and flustered and sweaty and nervous. Also, the l-word is something he’s still not used to, and that kinda makes him weak, too.

Jeongguk clears his throat, his face warm, and says, “Jin-hyung won’t kill you, he loves you.”

Jimin rests his head on Jeongguk’s shoulder and sighs. “You’re just saying that. You’re his favorite. He’d probably praise you if you pantsed him in front of the whole school. You’d come out alive. Please sing ‘Lost Stars’ at my funeral if you can attend without laughing.”