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ilarianae · 1 year

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— 10 Reasons to Share a Bed with Hoseok

pairing. hoseok x reader (modern au)

wc. 3,700

note. back from vacation! divided a list of 50 prompts; the final 10 reasons will be for seokjin, so stay tuned for that! as always, thank you for reading, and the writing below is inspired by the list of prompts provided from the tumblr @promptful. check their blog out, fellow writers!

cw. — just a mix between angsty and fluffy.

Because you both made a mistake.

His breath was hot against your shoulder. Bare flesh with bare flesh, and the mix of sweat and intimate satisfaction. It was enough to make your heart jump and crack simultaneously: the realization that you and Hoseok did it again. You had sex when you shouldn’t have.

Hoseok was quiet as he rolled away from you on the bed. He sat up, having the shame of at least hiding his nakedness with your sheets, refusing to look at you. He seemed distraught, and you knew the feeling.

“We need to stop doing this, Hobi.” You softly spoke, grabbing your discarded shirt from the floor.

“I know… I know.” He hid his face in his hands, muttering a swear.

“This is the last time.” You declared, knowing well in your heart that it won’t be.

Hoseok knew it too, facing you with an unbelievable look.

The two of you were cursed, forever haunted by what wasn’t but what could’ve been of your past relationship. Every time you tried pulling away or Hoseok did by meeting someone new or different, you’d always end up back at the starting line, back in your bed, naked, full of bite marks, and disappointed. Sometimes, you wondered what would’ve happened if you simply returned together. Yet, the thought of the toxicity and arguments made you hold your tongue.

Hoseok frowned, and you braced yourself for the start of your usual dispute— the same one that occurred every time you two returned to your senses. But his look fell, and he pulled you into his bare chest. With a gentle grasp around your chin, your lips met in a soft, chaste kiss.

Hoseok sighed sadly. “Knowing us, it won’t be.”

You nodded.

It would be you and him and this, now and forever.

Because this is the first time you’d ever seen him cry.

He was initially quiet when he first received the news on your couch.

Hoseok didn’t say a word, but his silence spoke volumes, and you understood what had occurred. Someone passed away. You could hear his mother’s panicked gasps through the phone, yet the boy you loved remained quiet and still. He only flinched when you touched his shoulder, taking the phone from him.

“I’ll take care of him, Mrs. Jung.” You spoke to the phone, watching Hoseok with careful eyes. “Yes, I’ll send him over as soon as possible.”

Ending the call for him, you rose to quickly pack his things. Hoseok was known for staying over at your place, his little impromptu sleepovers, so it wasn’t surprising to you to see all of his items in your apartment. You stuffed his extra clothes in his bag, moving to your entryway to grab his shoes so he could get ready to leave.

“Hobi,” you started with a gentle voice, “come on, you need to get ready.”

“…No.”

“Hm?” Turning around, the sight that greeted you made the backpack in your hands drop.

Wetness surrounded his eyes, and he shook, holding his body with his arms as if he was afraid of falling into pieces the moment he’d let go. Hoseok’s face was crumbled entirely, but he couldn’t look at you or show you how badly he felt.

He whispered your name softly. “I don’t want to go home, not like this.”

“Hobi—”

“Please.”

You neared closer to his seated position on the couch, hugging his shoulders tightly as he hid his face in your stomach. This was the first time you’d ever seen him cry; Hoseok was always the happier of the two, bringing sunshine to any damp situation. The wet evidence of tears on your shirt broke your heart, and as much as you loved his mother, you knew you couldn’t let Hoseok leave.

At least, not tonight.

“Come on,” you pulled him up, raising your hands to wipe away his tears. “You’re not going home.”

“I—”

“Don’t worry, I understand.”

Turning off the tv and discarding the movie the two of you were watching, you led Hoseok to your bedroom, allowing him to sleep with you tonight. He instantly melted against you, keeping his face hidden against your neck. You softly began to play with the little hairs at the base of his nape, and sometimes, he’d shiver from your featherlike touch.

“Thank you,” Hoseok murmured.

“Always.” You wouldn’t dare let him mourn by himself, not Hoseok.

Because he’s the savior to your sleep issues.

Namjoon let you in without hesitation, immediately understanding the drained look in your eyes.

“Another rough night?” he said as you nodded in thanks and entered the apartment. “You should really see a sleep doctor or something for this….”

“Please, Joon. Let’s save the lecture for tomorrow morning.” You shrugged off your coat. “Where is he?”

“Where do you think?” Namjoon nodded towards Hoseok’s bedroom. “He’s already asleep, but knowing him and knowing you, I don’t think he’d mind your company.”

“Thank you, honestly.” You gave him a tired smile.

“Goodnight.” He patted your shoulder as you passed by him and set towards Hoseok’s room.

Hoseok had always been the one to help you with your irregular sleeping patterns. He was never judging or misunderstanding, always keeping his door open for the nights you suffered immensely. And those nights were many; it was almost a nasty habit at this point. You felt somewhat guilty about the ordeal, knowing that Hoseok barely had girls over because of you or would’ve at least slept more peacefully with his bed to himself. But every time you brought up the topic due to your concern, Hoseok would shoo your worries away.

“I heard you come in,” he mumbled as you entered the dark room.

“I’m sorry….”

“Don’t be. I’d do the same if I was in your shoes.”

You heard shuffling and knew he raised part of his comforter to allow you in. Darkness surrounded you as you stepped up to his bed, knowing his bedroom layout by memory. You quickly entered under the sheets and were wrapped in everything that smelled like Hoseok, like your protector and favorite comrade of the night. He pulled you close with an arm around your waist, his muscular body almost resting on top of you, and you let out a soft sigh.

Hoseok kissed the side of your head gently and spoke so quietly you thought you imagined his words: “I’m glad you came. I’ve gotten so used to sleeping with you, now I can’t without.”

Because everyone else left you.

The fighting match was over, and you lost. You frowned as your friends rolled their eyes at you and left your home, the last one making sure to slam your front door harshly enough to prove their fury. A portrait of you and your cherished pet fell from the wall, the side of the frame denting from the impact against the floor. You didn’t hesitate to pick it back up and put it in its original place, your fingertips caressing the ruined side with the calmness and gentleness you didn’t have during the argument.

Then, you turned to face the remaining person in the room. “I think you should go.”

Hoseok didn’t waver. “Why?”

You glared at him, at his stupid question. “You heard them, what they said. I don’t want to have company over anymore, so just head out.”

Hoseok shook his head, refusing to leave you with your negative thoughts. “They were just angry….” He stood from his position at your dining table, towering over you with a look of care and sincerity that almost made you want to cry. “Things were said that weren’t meant. I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

You couldn’t keep eye contact with him anymore, turning away to hide your wavering lips and the familiar sensation of tears tickling your lashes. “Oh, they meant it. I want you to go too. You’ll be better off without me, so they can at least remain friends with you.”

“No,” he placed his hands on your cheeks, raising your head to meet his eyes, “I could give less of a shit about what others think. You were always the one I cared about the most.”

His following kiss to your lips was longing and full of desire. Hoseok caressed your jaw softly, moving his hands down to rest his thumbs on the pulse points on your neck. His kisses made you swoon as he directed you back toward your bedroom. He didn’t care about your friend group; he chose you over them in a heartbeat. You pulled away for a moment, feeling your bed touch the back of your knees. Recognizing your surroundings as your room, you marveled at how dizzy Hoseok made you with just a few kisses.

“So, you’re not going to leave me?” Your question sounded shy and worried, as if he was about to sneer, and this could’ve been a cruel joke.

Hoseok let out a small chuckle. His hands on your shoulders pushed you down onto the bed. “No. I’m not going anywhere.”

You both landed on your sheets.

Because he doesn’t trust anyone else to take care of you like he can.

“He already left.” Hoseok’s emotionless voice greeted you from behind.

Turning around with unfocused eyes and crinkled brows, you whispered a soft “what?”

Your boyfriend was not the type of guy to leave you behind like that; you wanted to argue. But your drunken, hazy mind thought otherwise. Drunk body, true thoughts had never felt more accurate. If he wasn’t the type to abandon his girlfriend at random parties, your current boyfriend would stick around and whine— a manipulative tactic to convince you to have sex whenever you were dangerously tipsy. Hoseok knew this; hell, you knew this, even if you continued to deny it.

“Why would he do that…?” You let out an embarrassed laugh, rubbing the back of your head uncomfortably.

“Because he’s a piece of shit,” Hoseok didn’t miss a beat, crossing his arms in displeasure. “Abandoning his girlfriend at a party and place like this… says a lot about the boys you choose.”

You glared, your drunken stupor making you bold. “Well, I chose you once, didn’t I?”

His face fell, only for a split second. “Yeah… You did.”

The two of you stood uncomfortably in the kitchen, surrounded by others focused on having fun rather than your little spat. The lack of space brought you close to each other, and if you wanted to, you could run your fingers down his clothed chest like you used to when you were his. When he was yours.

You almost did, catching yourself and dropping your hand before coming into contact with his person. Hoseok didn’t let you though, grabbing you with his own, pulling you close.

“What… are you doing?”

“I’m not going to leave you at this shitty party because you can’t seem to choose a good guy.” His response was swift and slightly damaging. “Come on, you’ll just sleep over at mine tonight.”

“Why with you, though?” You allowed yourself to be directed out the front door and into his car with a short huff. It almost felt like home, being with Hoseok, bickering, being his passenger princess. “I’m sure Jin or Namjoon can help take me home too.”

“Because no one can take care of you like I can.”

“But you only have one bed in your apartment, so… you’ll take the couch?”

“Hell no, we’re sharing.”

Because there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

Legs intertwined. His hands around your waist. His face buried in that delicate space between your neck and shoulder. There was nowhere else Hoseok would rather be.

Pulling his face back to lightly rest on your shoulder, he watched as soft puffs of air left your open lips. He could feel your slow heartbeat, how soothing and lulling it was to him. His fingers played with the frayed endings of your sleep shirt, sometimes wanting to touch skin and slipping under to caress your hips and stomach. He liked how it made you shiver, how goosebumps rose on your skin due to his ghost-like caresses.

Hoseok scooted closer, placing his lips firmly against your neck. He quickly glanced to see if he woke you up and smirked when realizing you were still sound asleep. Choosing a perfect spot for his love mark, Hoseok gave your neck a swift kiss before wrapping his lips around your skin and sucking. Once he pulled away, a soft pinkish-red formed around the spot he targeted, making the vexatious boy smile brightly.

“Perfect,” he whispered, about to add more, but you pushed him away.

“Hoseok, stop…” You chided sleepily, sighing in annoyance as he chuckled mischievously and kissed up your neck, away from the newly-forming hickey he made.

“I’m doing nothing wrong, babe. Just proving to myself this isn’t a dream.” Another kiss to your lips. “Proving to myself you’re finally mine.”

Because you fell asleep on his shoulder, and he carried you to bed.

Your week drained you immensely; that much was true.

Hoseok smiled awkwardly as Jin and Namjoon sent him questioning stares, having noticed your soft snores during movie night. “Should I wake her up?” He whispered to them after making eye contact for the third time.

“How in the hell does someone fall asleep during a horror movie?” Jin marveled, raising his finger to poke your cheek.

“Don’t.” Hoseok glared, smacking Jin’s hand away to protect you from his annoying antics. You remained in your deep sleep, blissfully unaware of your surroundings, and snuggled close to Hoseok’s side. Your head rested on his right shoulder, and if it wasn’t for his phone on the dining table far away, he would’ve already taken a photo of you. “Leave her alone.”

“You should take her upstairs, Hobi,” Namjoon suggested, placing the movie on pause. “So she doesn’t end up with a sore neck when she wakes up.”

“To my room?!” Hoseok whisper-shouted in alarm. The thought of you sleeping in his bed made his heart clench. He wouldn’t know how to handle such a situation. “Wouldn’t that… be weird? I don’t know.”

“What, you’d want her to sleep in our beds?” Jin smirked at Hoseok’s instant frown. ”Didn’t think so.”

“I mean, she fell asleep on you,” Namjoon added with a shrug.

Hoseok glowered at them for a moment, at the truth behind their words. Then, he caved. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Attaboy,” Jin said as he clapped Hoseok on his free shoulder.

He was careful in his movements, holding your upper back with one arm and the underside of your knees with the other. Hoseok allowed you to rest against his chest, ignoring Jin and Namjoon’s interested stares digging into the back of his skull as he took you to his bedroom. He hoped his actions weren’t seen as weird once you woke up— but you were never the type to be untrusting of Hoseok. He was one of your closest friends for as long as you can remember, and falling asleep against him only proved it further.

“There you go,” he whispered as he rested your body against his mattress.

Hoseok fluffed the pillow under your head and brought his blanket to your chin. He thought you looked absolutely perfect, which tugged on his heartstrings. He let out a humored sigh when noticing a strand of hair covering your face and gently pushed it away.

“What are you doing to me?”

Jin and Namjoon can wait. Hoseok laid down beside you, intertwining your fingers with his own.

He was too infatuated; Hoseok wouldn’t dream of leaving you by yourself in his big and empty room.

Because you help with his nightmares.

A cold sweat ran down his back.

Hoseok paid it no mind as he tried his best not to throw up in bed, his heart racing a mile a minute. He could feel himself shake, and the thought of a simple nightmare having this much of an effect on him made him furious. It was always the same dream too: a flash of shadows surrounding him, screams and blood, and… you, unsurprisingly. You were the focus of his daydreams, so why wouldn’t you be the focus of his nightmares?

It made him sick; how dangerous his mind was to his body.

He became lost in his thoughts, shivering silently, trying to calm down well enough to return to sleep and not disturb you. The latter failed, however; Hoseok almost jolted out of bed at a feather-like touch caressing the ends of his damp hair.

“It’s me, it’s me.” You instantly soothed, running your fingers through his hair. “Another nightmare?”

He didn’t trust himself enough to speak, simply scooting closer to you and hiding his face in your shoulder. You were always patient with him, wrapping him closer to you and whispering sweet nothings to calm him down. Sometimes, you spoke about your dreams and what you wished to explore with him. Other times, you simply sat there quietly, letting out soft hums and eased breaths he could follow until his heartbeat returned at a regular pace.

“Do you feel better?” You asked once he pulled away. “What happened?”

“It’s always the same damned nightmare,” he sounded like he could cry. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Shh,” you climbed into his lap, wiping away the sweat from his brow line. “Nothing is unbeatable for you, Hobi. And I’ll always be here to help you out every step of the way.”

He leaned forward to rest his forehead on yours. “Thank you.”

You left a soft kiss on his lips. “I’ll stay up with you until you fall asleep.”

Because he’s scared to lose you.

He couldn’t get close enough.

Hoseok was two centimeters from crawling into the hospital bed you rested upon. He cringed as his eyes raked over the tubes and wires going in and out of your body, slightly grateful for your medical coma so you wouldn’t feel the discomfort of them prickling your skin. Bruises and cuts littered your person. A cast covered your left leg and arm, reminding him of the brutal state he found you (and your car) in when receiving the call. His hand grasped your pale one tightly, almost as if there was a risk of losing you if he let go.

He didn’t like it; he needed to be closer.

Hoseok whispered your name. “Please… wake up.” But you didn’t move, not even a twitch to show him you listened. “Please…”

He dropped his head softly against your chest. The thumps of your heart echoed throughout his ears, and Hoseok breathed a sigh of relief, tears slipping from his eyes and onto your hospital gown.

Hoseok knew he would get scolded by your assigned nurse, but at the moment, he frankly didn’t care. He climbed onto the hospital bed, shrugging off his jacket and shoes, keenly aware of your wires and IV drip.

His hands were gentle, loving, as he wrapped you into his arms and breathed in your scent. You didn’t smell of your signature perfume; you reeked of sterile, disinfectant, and metal— hospital. Knowing this almost made Hoseok cry harder. Instead, he made sure every part of you was protected by him: his hands covered your hands, his chin rested upon your head, and his body spooned you and granted you comfort.

Hoseok leaned down to leave a kiss on your cheeks.

“Whenever you want to wake up, Sleeping Beauty, I’ll be waiting.”

And wait, he did. Your nurse didn’t have the heart to wake him when finding his position in your bed the following day.

Because your room is flooded.

“Oi! I don’t even know you!” Your upstairs neighbor, Hoseok of Apt. D403, snapped in shock.

With a huff, you turned around to face him, having barged into his apartment the instant he opened the door. It was a lovely apartment, clean and tidy, but frankly, you would’ve preferred the comfort of your own. “Hello, delighted to meet you, D403! I’m D303, the victim of the apartment you flooded!” You quipped sarcastically with a dangerous amount of charm.

Hoseok’s face fell in recognition. He gulped. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Yeah, it’s me. What, you thought I wouldn’t knock on your door?”

He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Listen… About that, I’m sorry. My pipes are finicky if you turn on the high pressure, and my cat—”

“No need for excuses,” you held a hand up, stopping Hoseok in his tracks. It was insanely amusing how your movements kept him on edge, even if you were a whole head shorter than him. “You flooded my bathroom and bedroom. I’m here for compensation.”

He blanched, his angry demeanor shifting to terror at your words. “I don’t— I don’t have any money right now, though. I’m just a college kid. I barely get by as it is!”

“D403, I’m not asking for money to replace my furniture. That’s what home insurance is for, duh.” Your statement took away the tension from his shoulders. “Buuut,” tension returned, “I don’t have a place to live in for a couple of weeks. So, I’m your new roommate.”

“Oka— wait, what?”

“It’s only natural, you fucked up—”

“Technically, it was the cat.”

“—right, right, your cat fucked up, and now you need to compensate me.” You crossed your arms.

Hoseok shook his head, displeased. “There’s only one room in my apartment.”

“Perfect, I’ll take the bedroom, and you can sleep on the couch!”

Hoseok allowed you to lean around him to pull your luggage into his apartment. He made a face at your words, coughing twice to gain your attention before raising his arms to demonstrate his living room. “Are you blind, D303?”

You finally took in the room you stood in. It was neat and tidy because it was absolutely empty: no couch in sight, along with no tv, no end tables, no lamps, no rugs, etc. Oh my god, you thought, D403 had nothing. And you were just like him, most of your things downstairs still wholly drenched in water.

An awkward silence filled the empty room.

But you didn’t let it waver you. “Right… then I suppose we’ll share the bed, then.”

Oh, if only you were able to record the look on his face.

20230124 ©ilarianae.

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ilarianae · 1 year

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You know the problem with reading a book? You get hooked and then it ends and you feel sad

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ilarianae · 1 year

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BLOOD, SWEAT & TEARS ;

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ilarianae · 1 year

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Let’s Talk About Writers’s Labor and Entitled Readers

Last year, I wrote a post on what I’d like to call ‘Writer’s Envy’, or when writers with smaller blogs hate on ones with super popular blogs they (might) believe with little to no effort.

Here’s the link

I wanna talk about the mental/emotional labor that goes into writing these fics and how entitled readers are wearing writers’ last nerves.

People write and share fics/series for a variety of reasons. I do cuz I have a shitton of creativity that I don’t use in my everyday life and it’s fun to do historical, political, and fairy tale/folklore ‘what ifs’. I wanted to give back to the community that’s kept me sane during the early days of the pandemic.

It takes A LOT of time to prep, write, (usually) proofread, and publish these fics. I have lost count of how many writers/creators talk about the time (sometimes months if not years) of research, worldbuilding, outlining, spellchecking, curating images, moodboard/divider creating, and finding the best time to publish their work.

It takes a lot out of person to do this as often as many of your favorite authors do.

Keep reading

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ilarianae · 1 year

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shoutout to slow creators!

i know it can be disheartening to work so slowly when it seems like everyone around you works so fast and churns out great content left and right. i know it's easy to get frustrated with yourself for having to spend so much time on one thing and sometimes it's hard to stay motivated long enough to finish. but the things you make are so good, and taking lot of time on something isn't a bad thing. creation can be a very painstaking process, but the amount of love and care and effort and attention you pour into your work bleeds through. people can feel it. they appreciate it. they see how hard you try and they see how your thoughtful approach to creation affects the quality of the end product. speed is definitely a skill you can develop and chances are as you practice more and get more comfortable with things, you'll be able to work faster. but no matter what, the things you make are worth waiting for. keep creating! you are wonderful!

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ilarianae · 1 year

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— 10 Reasons to Share a Bed with Namjoon

pairing. namjoon x reader (modern au)

wc. 2,700

note. divided a list of prompts and will only be doing the hyung line; the next 10 reasons will be for hoseok, so stay tuned for that! as always, thank you for reading, and the writing below is inspired by the list of prompts provided from the Tumblr @promptful.

cw. mature language, aftermaths of fights, arranged marriages, alcohol consumption, injuries, parental abuse, adorable namjoon, hinted smut (but still pg13) — just a mix between angsty and fluffy.

Because this is an arranged marriage.

The two of you were uncomfortable; at least that much was clear.

Having gone through with your parents’ marriage decision wasn’t the first choice for either of you, yet here you were, hours after your wedding, about to ‘consummate.’ Your heartbeat was in your chest. You could feel it pound harshly as you sat on the king-sized bed. Namjoon was by the doorway, looking red himself, pulling at his tie to loosen.

“We… don’t have to do anything tonight, you know.” He started with an uncomfortable cough, avoiding looking at you. “They’d never know the truth.”

“Yeah…” You had already changed for the evening, a simple but still sexy night dress that left little to the eye. It made you cold. It made you feel like you weren’t you. “I know my parents wouldn’t check, but… yours?”

He understood your question. “No, they trust me enough.”

“Okay.”

Another awkward pause as Namjoon changed into his pajamas. You turned your head to give him privacy, doing the same for him as he did for you. It was moments of embarrassment like these that made you wish for a bathroom attached to the bedroom of the lodge.

Sudden warmth was placed around your shoulders. You flinched at the presence of a blanket around you and looked up to find Namjoon towering over your figure.

“You seemed cold.” He looked bashful, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s fine.” You placed a hand over his resting on your shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Ahem,” he cleared his throat, his ears turning bright pink, “anyways, I can sleep on the floor.”

“No, no, that’d be cruel, Namjoon.”

“It’s just one night. I’ll be okay.”

“The floor is made of tiles.” You shook your head, scooting to one side of the bed. “It’s big enough,” You gestured toward the space. “Let’s share.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course… Please join me in bed, my dear husband.”

Because you’ve been kicked out, and he’s the only safe place to go.

“I know you don’t have the space, and I know this is extremely selfish of me, but—!”

“Get in here,” He didn’t hesitate, pulling you out from the blizzard-like storm raging outside. “How could they just force you to leave like that?!”

His fury should’ve been on you; it had been your parents that kicked you out for the nth time. Yet, you were quiet, apart from the small chatters emitting from your teeth. Namjoon rushed out of his living room, returning in a flash with one of his shirts and a heated blanket. The sight of his worrying almost made you laugh; he seemed like the parent you never had, changing your wet and frozen shirt to another, doting on you, and caring for you.

The realization squeezed your heart. You felt like you were about to cry.

“Come ‘ere,” he wrapped his blanket around you like a little burrito, pulling you into his warm embrace.

Your eyes stung. “They kicked me out there… to die.”

Namjoon let out a shuddered breath. He knew what monsters your parents were and what type of things they usually did. He just didn’t expect it to go to this extreme. Looking you over, he could see how violently the wind slashed your cheeks, how close to being frostbitten your nose and fingers were.

He came to a conclusion. “I’m not letting you go back that.”

“Namjoon…”

He picked you up, holding you close and taking you to bed.

“I won’t let you go. Not anymore.”

Because you’ve let him crash so many times before.

“Don’t trip over that,” you warned about the pile of clothes on the floor as you directed Namjoon into the room.

He giggled, letting out a rare laugh that you heard only when he was drunk. “Messy, messy,” the man teased you, leaning heavily on your shoulder.

“Ack! Namjoon, come on, the bed’s right there, and you already know the drill.” You almost flung him onto your comforter, heaving at the effort it took to bring him up the stairs and away from your house party.

“Wait!” He cried out when he noticed you were returning to the ruckus downstairs. “Don’t leave!”

You sighed, wiping your face with your hand. Then, turning back to the male in your bed, you were greeted with the sight of Namjoon giving you puppy eyes. He was under the covers, most of his clothes discarded on the floor, and one of his hands raised to pat the spot next to him.

“I need you,” those three simple words were enough to make your heart jump.

“…Fine. But for only a couple of minutes, alright? I need to make sure the others aren’t wrecking the house.”

“They won’t. Jin trained them well.” He snickered, lunging forward to pull you into him once you were close enough. “Aha!”

“Namjoon!” You scolded, barely falling on top of him. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he dug his face into your bare shoulder, kissing your skin softly. “I’ll always need you.”

Because he loves the way you wrap around him.

His mouth was so close to the skin of your neck that if he raised his head only a little more, he could kiss it. His hands were in a similar predicament, resting just barely above your behind, and if Namjoon wanted to, he could play with the elastic of your underwear. Temptations, temptations.

And he loved it.

The two of you weren’t together, but he still loved it.

It wasn’t easy being your roommate and only that, God knows he tried being more, but sharing an apartment with you gave him little moments like these: moments to hold you close, moments to have you fall asleep on his chest. Oh god, he was going to go insane.

A soft sigh parted your lips, and you subconsciously snuggled closer to him, your hands seeking his warmth beneath his shirt. Namjoon almost shivered in delight. He hugged you tighter, swearing to himself never to let you go.

At least, not until you knew exactly how much he loved you.

He whispered your name; it fell from his mouth endearingly.

“I love you.”

Because the little hums you make against his ear to send him to sleep also send warmth down my body.

He never hugged you like this before.

You couldn’t help but think a particular type of flu overtook Namjoon’s mind as he rested closely beside you in your bed. His arms were wrapped loosely around your waist, almost as if he couldn’t bare to let you go, and he snored softly in your ear. Even so, you continued to hum your little tunes, knowing it helped calm him down after the bad news he’d just received.

Namjoon was getting transferred to the other side of Korea for work. So his daily dose of you will surely lessen to once or twice a month if he was lucky enough to pull vacation days from his demanding job.

It hurt him. Being unable to see you as much as he is now hurt him.

So, of course, he was hesitant to let you go, even in sleep. It didn’t matter much to you; your feelings were the same. So you continued to hum until your throat grew sore from the exertion, until your mouth was dry, and your lungs were desperate for a break.

Anything for him.

Anything for your Namjoon, for the love of your life.

Because his fingertips over your muscles send you to sleep.

His fingers dug into the back of your shoulders, and you bit your lip to hide a moan.

Namjoon was skilled, and you would die on that hill. How he softly caressed your upper back, rising slowly and massaging up to your neck… it was to die for. And he knew he was good too; if you were to raise your head and check on his face, you’d undoubtedly see a smug smile on his mouth.

You mustn’t let him know how highly you thought of him.

But frankly, Namjoon’s mind wasn’t on your verbal approval. At least, not right now. He shuffled his body closer to you and pressed a wet kiss on your bare hip dimples. Namjoon continued his trek upwards, placing open-mouthed kisses on your spine, making you shiver and hold the pillow below your head tighter.

You couldn’t open your eyes to acknowledge him, not when he was making you feel this hot with simple kisses. But Namjoon leaned over your resting body, his broad and muscular arms keeping him balanced and placed on the sides of your head. He tilted forward, kissed the back of your ear once, twice, and grinned when seeing your scrunched nose.

He whispered out your name seductively. “Did my skillful fingers put you to sleep?”

Because your cat sleeps on his chest. (he’s not here for you… of course.)

“Well, I guess I’m just going to have to stay.”

“—Don’t sound so happy, Kim.” You rolled your eyes at him, crawling into bed by his side.

Namjoon stopped petting your cat for a moment, the little grumpy thing whining in a complaint, to open his arms to you. You sent him a glare, a part of you wanting to be a bit difficult about this situation thrust upon you, but his cheeky grin was enough to make you waver. Instead, you cuddled to his side, resting your head on his chest and raising your hand to caress your pet.

“She likes you,” Namjoon chuckled teasingly, squirming when you lightly pinched his sides.

“Of course she does. She’s my baby.”

“And she’s sleeping on me.”

“Hm,” You paid him no heed, locking a leg over his and watching as your cat readjusted herself to rest in the small space between you. “There’s no chance she likes you more than me.”

“I didn’t say that.” Namjoon’s calloused fingers pulled your chin up so he could meet your eyes. He glanced down at your lips, and your breath got caught in your chest.

“…Then what are you trying to say?”

“Maybe,” he leaned closer, “she just wants us together.”

Namjoon sealed the space in between.

Because it’s between sharing with you or you sharing with others.

Please forgive him, for he will always be selfish.

Please forgive Namjoon, for he will always choose your company, your space, and your love over anything else. He can’t live without you, he can’t sleep without you, and the mere thought of you sharing the bed with someone else during this camping trip would’ve been too much for him to bear.

He watched silently as you got ready for bed, almost memorizing your skincare routine. Of course, Namjoon had seen it countless times before, having been your childhood friend and other half since the two of you were in middle school, but it still never failed to keep him interested.

Once you were done, he couldn’t help but hide a grin at the bounce in your step when you neared the bed. Namjoon opened his arms, pulled you in, and the two of you instantly got into your designated positions. Like two pieces of a puzzle meant to fit together for today and the rest of eternity, he absentmindedly ran his fingers over your bare thighs and calves.

You giggled. “Imagine if I actually ended up sharing this room with someone else.”

“I would’ve cried,” he responded instantly.

“Yeah, right.” You raised your head, resting your chin on his chest. “You would’ve been grumpy, sure, but I bet you would’ve sucked it up and said nothing.”

The confidence in your words was what made him pin you to the bed. He leaned forward, capturing your lips with his own, kissing you fiercely. Only when you were red and out of breath did Namjoon pull back, nipping the side of your jaw in a slight scolding.

“You bet, you said?” He had that glint in his eye that told you his brilliant mind was conjuring up something. “Fine then, I’ll tell them tomorrow myself.”

“T-Tell them? Tell them what?”

“That you’re mine, of course.”

Because you’ll always be the one to patch him up.

You wrapped the gauze around his knuckles, your lips pulled down into a frown at how damaged his hands were. Once or twice you tried meeting his eyes, but Namjoon avoided your gaze, too stubborn to tell you how he got hurt. It didn’t matter much anyways; anyone could look at his hands and face and recognize he got into a fight.

So the two of you remained silent, Namjoon evading conversation and you simmering in your anger. Then, once you were done with his hands, you pushed him towards the bed, forcing him to sit at the edge so you could focus on his face. Namjoon allowed himself to be moved, quite submissive of him as if he knew that defiance would start a screaming match.

“Raise your head,” you ordered, placing your fingertips below his chin. “You’re tall, so how the fuck did they hit your eyebrow, hm?”

Namjoon almost looked away. “…We were on the floor.”

“On the floor.” You repeated with a clenched jaw. “You idiot.”

Dabbing the gash on his eyebrow with a cotton ball to wipe away the blood, you quickly finished cleaning his face. The lack of communication urged you to work faster, so you could abandon Namjoon in your room and calm down. Once you were done, you closed your med kit and leaned away from him.

“Done.”

“Hey, wait.” You ignored him, opening your bedroom door. He called your name. “Please, I just—“

“Just what?” You whirled around to glare at him, faltering when realizing Namjoon stood up and loomed over you.

He hesitantly took the med kit from your hands, placing it on your desk before connecting his fingers with yours. “I know you’re mad… I just need time to think things through, but I’ll tell you everything, I swear.”

“That’s not what I’m mad about, Kim.” Your use of his last name made his fingers twitch. “You told me you’d stop.”

“I know, I know… Just…” He pulled you closer, leaning down to rest his forehead on your own. “Don’t go. I don’t want to be alone.”

“I’m still mad at you.”

“And stay that way. I deserve it. But also stay here.”

You couldn’t leave even if you wanted to: his fingertips already traveled from your hands to your waist, and he was so close, so so close, to the point where you could feel his breath bounce off your cheeks. To the point where you can smell his fantastic cologne.

“Fine. But we’re having a discussion later.”

“Deal.”

Because your breakfast is his favorite thing.

You placed the two plates on the dining table, humming a little happy tune at your accomplishment. It looked delicious: an English breakfast fit for kings. Or, in other words, fit for Namjoon, who had yet to stop begging to stay the night. Instead, he preferred crowding with you in a little bed rather than his luxurious king-sized one back home— only to have your home-cooked breakfast the following day.

“Namjoon!” You called out, turning towards the stairs. “Breakfast is ready!”

No response.

You decided to give him a minute or two, placing the milk carton at the center of the table and focusing on cleaning up the kitchen a bit to pass the time. But Namjoon never came down.

With a grumble, you stomped up the stairs and entered your room. He was still slumped in bed, wrapped around your comforter, his dark locks splayed all over your pillows. You let out a sigh; getting Namjoon up in the morning was always challenging.

“Hey, our food is going to get cold.” You poked his cheek with a frown. “Joonie?”

“I’m up. I’m getting up.” He mumbled in return, making no effort to move.

“Right…” You put your hands on your hips. “Come on, I have to make breakfast for you and wake you up?”

“Shut up.”

He wrapped a hand around the back of your knees, pulling you onto the bed. You shrieked in surprise, the loss of balance bringing you on top of him.

“Wait! Our breakfast!” You complained as he brought you under the covers, using you as a body pillow. “Namjoon!”

“We can always reheat it,” Namjoon hid a grin. “Now sleep.”

20221117 ©ilarianae. follow my kofi for teasers and more!

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ilarianae · 1 year

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pause.

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ilarianae · 1 year

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“Your fingers moved to your neck in thought, lightly rubbing your gills; their eyes snagged on the organ they didn’t have, before returning to your face.”

Oh so ur a writer?? Prove it. Drop the last sentence of ur wip in the tags

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ilarianae · 1 year

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Heart King 💜👑

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ilarianae · 1 year

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Bangtan Sonyeondan Navigation

blog est. 2015, active 2022.

nothing yet.

10 reasons to share a bed with myg (modern au)

boyfriend! jhs headcanons (modern au) best friend! jhs headcanons (college au) 10 reasons to share a bed with jhs (modern au)

10 reasons to share a bed with knj (modern au)

nothing yet.

thank you for all your love and support!

#bts fanfic #ot7 fanfic #ila.ml #bts #masterlist #bts masterlist #shorts masterlist #hc masterlist

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ilarianae · 1 year

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— 10 Reasons to Share a Bed with Yoongi

pairing. yoongi x reader (modern au)

wc. 2,300

note. divided a list of prompts and will only be doing the hyung line; the next 10 reasons will be for namjoon, so stay tuned for that! as always, thank you for reading, and the writing below is inspired by the list of prompts provided from the Tumblr @promptful.

cw. illness, mature language, burglary mentions, injuries, death/dying mentions— just a mix between angsty and fluffy.

Because you’re sick.

“You’re sniffling every two seconds.”

“—It’s 'cause of my fever...”

“Here, put on my sweater,” he didn’t hesitate, chucking it towards your face and making you squeak in surprise. “I don’t want it to get any worse cause of the cold.”

“But… I’ll get it all germy, Yoongi…?” You watched him with slightly unfocused vision, your head pounding and your throat burning from all the cough syrup he’s been making you take. You didn’t even have the strength to stop him from clambering into bed with you, letting him push your head down on the pillows after helping you put on his comfy sweater.

It was soft and it smelled just like him; you could hide your face in it forever.

“It’s already too late for that,” the sarcastic tone in his voice was thick. “You’re already in my bed.”

“Oh… true.”

He sighed in annoyance, and it made you feel extremely guilty. But his nimble fingers were quick to pull you against him and grab at the blanket resting by your feet. He placed the blanket over your shivering body, and left a light kiss on the top of your head.

Your heart skipped a beat as he whispered with a gummy grin “you’ll just have to take care of me tomorrow.”

Because there’s only one bed, and it feels wrong to let him sleep on the floor.

“Stop it, I said it doesn’t bother me.”

“—Okay, but that doesn’t mean it won’t bother me.”

He sighed, and you couldn’t help but think he resembled a scolded puppy, splayed down on the floor like that with only one pillow and a sad, scratchy blanket. Yoongi looked away with heated cheeks, cursing at his luck in picking shitty motels. “Fine, just don’t snore in my ear.”

“As long as you don’t take up all the space.”

He rolled his eyes but let you win nonetheless, standing up and moving under your blanket and into the warm bed. Under the moonlight, you could see his pale ears turn red from the shyness. The two of you were friends for years, yet small and simple things like these still made him nervous. He turned, so you were greeted with his back, and his tense shoulders made your lips pull up into a mischievous grin.

Scooting a bit closer, you sneakily leaned over him and blew a soft puff of air toward his nape.

“Yah!” He cursed out your name. “Will you cut it out?!”

Because he has the thicker blanket out of the two of you.

You shivered from the cold, trying your best to generate enough heat so you could fall back asleep and be done with your 2am insomnia. It didn’t work. Looked across the bed, your eyes locked onto Yoongi, your best friend since childhood, all snuggled up with the comforter. All you could see was his mop of dark hair resting wildly against the pillow as he was cocooned entirely inside his blanket. His breath rose from his blanket burrito in little puffs, and you gazed at the window, realizing that it had started to snow outside.

No wonder you were cold; your little, pathetic blanket wasn’t enough for this type of weather, even if the two of you were safely inside, under a roof. So you decided to take a chance and risk waking Yoongi up for your comfort.

“Yoongi…” You whispered, your shaking fingers caressing the hair away from his face. “Hey, Yoongi.”

He unconsciously flinched away from your freezing fingers, hiding his face deeper in his blanket.

“Yoongi, please…” You shuffled closer to the cocoon, desperate for warmth. “I’m cold, do you have another blanket —!”

In a flash, he raised his comforter and pulled you inside it. You almost let out a sigh of relief at the sudden warmth seeping into your bones, allowing him to wrap the two of you back into his burrito. His chin rested on your head, and you couldn’t help yourself but place your cold cheeks against his chest, your legs intertwining with his warm ones.

“Thank you.” You whispered.

His soft snores were all you got in response.

Because he won’t stop clinging to you on the couch.

“Hey… Hey, Yoongi?” You tried to wake him, your fingers running through his hair.

He didn’t respond, the long day of work draining him to the point of no return. When he called you for a movie night, you didn’t expect to watch the full movie alone with your best friend falling asleep on top of you. He was out in the first twenty minutes, his head finding a pillow against your soft stomach. Your legs were long asleep and prickling by now, but you didn’t dare move, knowing Yoongi needed the rest.

However, the movie was over now, the credits were rolling, and it was time for you to go before it got too late to drive home.

“Yoongi? Buddy?” You switched tactics, trailing your fingers against his cheek, the one that wasn’t buried into your stomach. “I need to leave soon, you have to wake up.”

“Five more minutes.” He grumbled, wrapping his arms around your waist tighter. “Just five…”

“Hey, no, it’s already almost 1 in the morning, and I have to go.”

“Fine then.” He jolted up, his hair puffed out in different directions. “Just sleep with me instead.”

“Wha…? Yoongi, hold on—! Put me down!”

“No. I need my pillow.”

Because he has a broken leg, and you didn’t want the guilt of leaving him here all by himself.

“I don’t need help.”

“—You broke your leg!”

“And? Doesn’t mean I need to be babied by you.” He sighed, messing up his locks by running his hands through them. A stress maneuver, you’ve grown to learn. He continued to hobble you towards the front door, refusing to accept your help even though you consistently exclaimed that it wouldn’t be that big of a deal to you.

He doesn’t want you here; that much was clear to you. But he still needed you. And you would never forgive yourself if you left him here all alone, mere hours after he got his broken leg put into a cast. What if he gets hurt trying to go to the bathroom or back to bed?

“Enough.” You dug your heels in, almost sending the unbalanced male to the floor. “I don’t care what you say, I’d never get over it if something happened to you and no one was home.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Nothing’s going to happen—”

“I’m sleeping on the couch,” You ignored him, grabbing your jacket from the hanger by the door and putting it on. It tends to get cold here at night. “You can’t stop me, not as you are right now, anyways.”

He sighed out your name.

But you didn’t budge.

“Fine… Fine!” Yoongi drawled, limping closer to grab your hand. He locked his fingers with yours, and the action was enough to bring blood up to your cheeks. “I don’t want you sleeping on the couch, though.”

“Oh! Um…”

“Come on,” He nodded towards his bedroom. “Let’s go to bed.”

Because your health is deteriorating, and he doesn’t want to miss your final breaths.

He hummed softly in bed, his light fingers raking against your back as you rested on top of him. Yoongi didn’t want to miss a moment, having spent the day with you in your hospital bed as your health slowly but surely worsened.

When you called him this morning to say your final goodbyes, you didn’t expect him to leave early from work and visit your room. Though, you also didn’t complain as he climbed into bed, suit and all, to snuggle with you in your final moments.

His fingers rose to softly caress the back of your neck, and you shivered.

Yoongi noticed. “Cold?”

“No,” you mumbled, hiding your face in his chest. He found the action cute. “I just don’t want this to end.”

His heart clenched at your words. Yoongi couldn’t believe it took your nearing death and future absence in his life for him to recognize his feelings for you. It hurt. You being stuck here, with tubes and wires connected to your body, hurt. And he didn't know how to fix this.

“Yoongi,” You raised your head to meet his eyes, practically nose-to-nose. “I don’t want you to be here when I… you know.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“But you’ll get traumatized.”

“I don’t care. I’ll be here to the end, my love.”

Because you’re crying as if he’s about to disappear.

You continued to take in shuttered breaths, clutching at your chest as if something was stabbing you deep from within. Yoongi sat across from you on the bed, his eyebrows furrowed in that worried look that, on a good day, usually had you joking about the wrinkles growing from it.

But this wasn’t a good day.

And you both knew that.

“It’ll only be for a couple of months,” Yoongi weakly tried consoling you. “You won’t even know I’m gone.”

You didn’t respond — couldn’t respond. The tears continued to cascade down your cheeks, and the action alone made Yoongi want to start crying with you. He couldn’t continue sitting there and watching you cry. Maybe he could with someone else, but not you.

“Come here,” He pulled at your wrist, wrapping his arms tightly around your body in an effort to comfort you. “Take in deep breaths, I don’t want you fainting cause of me.”

“You- I—” You couldn’t speak.

“Shh,” Yoongi harshly shushed you, placing a hand on the back of your head and stroking your hair softly. “You know I’d never abandon you, right? I’ll be gone, but I plan to return and get you after.”

“…Get me?” You looked up at him, your eyelashes full of unshed tears.

“Of course,” He gave you a gummy smile. “Exploring the United States means nothing to me if you’re not there beside me.”

Because this is what you’ve done since you were kids, regardless of the adult implications now.

“…Yoongi?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

His familiar, gruff voice instantly put you at ease. You rolled yourself closer to the edge of the bed, allowing him to jump in from the open window. He smelled like the outside, like pine trees and rain, but you didn’t mind. In a flash, he pulled the window closed and buried himself beneath your covers.

“I thought it was an intruder.” You mumbled softly, not bothering to open your eyes.

A scoff. “As if anyone else would climb two floors to get into your room.”

“True…” Your voice got even softer, indicating your return to deep sleep.

Without hesitation, he rested his forehead against the back of your neck, wrapping his arms around your torso and pulling you into his chest. It was the middle of spring, so he didn’t necessarily need to cuddle up with you for warmth, but Yoongi found it helped with his insomnia to have you in his arms.

After all, he has been following this method since childhood.

Who was he to break habits?

Because he prefers your heartbeat as his sound-soother.

You’ve tried telling others countless times that there was nothing sexual behind his actions. That he was simply a friend and nothing more (yet), and that heartbeats helped calm him down after a horrible day serving others at his workplace. But looking at the position you and him were in tonight, you can understand your roommates’ suggestive looks whenever Yoongi visits.

His head was resting on your chest. Not your stomach, not your lap, but your chest.

You could feel the way his hair tickled your neck and chin or the way his fingers twitched by your sides as if he wanted to hold you even closer but knew he was already crossing too many lines between the two of you. Your own hands were in an awkward position as well, one resting at the base of his head and the other one on his bicep.

You were both watching late night tv, or at least, trying to.

“Hey, Yoongi?”

“Hm?”

“Can I… Can I play with your hair?”

An intake of breath. Then, “Yeah, sure, I don’t mind.”

Your hands fell into his dark brown locks, running through and playing with it, as if they’ll distract you from the attractive male resting on you. With each comb, you could feel Yoongi get more and more relaxed in your arms, letting out sighs of relief and yawns. After ten minutes, you thought he had fallen asleep, but he jolted his head up to rest his forehead against the side of your neck.

You didn’t dare to swallow or breathe. “Yoongi?”

He muttered out your name in a disappointed sigh.

“...What are you doing to me?”

Because your house was broken into.

“Here, you can take the bed, and I’ll sleep on the couch tonight.”

“Wait… won’t it be uncomfortable for you?”

“I don’t mind. It’s better than leaving you back there after everything that’s happened. You can stay as long as you want to.”

“Yoongi…” The way your voice cracked had him turning back towards you.

He leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed and his jaw tense in that familiar way that told you he was somehow twisting the narrative in his mind and putting your burglary as his fault. A small part of your brain shivered in delight at the sight of Yoongi being so protective and angry for you. It almost made you forget the monstrosity you walked into this evening after work.

“Do you want another blanket?” He asked.

“No… I…” Your voice almost got caught in your throat. “Can you please just… stay here with me tonight? Please?”

His eyes analyzed your body from head to toe. The way you sat on his bed, your shoulders hunched and your arms wrapped around your waist. The way you tried keeping yourself from shaking, your legs restlessly jumping up and down. His gaze softened; there was no way in hell he’d be leaving you alone tonight.

“Of course… You didn’t even have to ask.”

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