#bts jhope fanfic
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Caterpillar (Hoseok x OC)
Summary: Hoseok starts coming to terms with his feelings.
Pairing: Hoseok x OC
Genre: Some angst, some humour, some fluff
Word count: 5.6 K
Rating: 18+
Warnings: mentions of parental death, mentions of unhealthy eating habits
A/N: Highly recommended to read Double Take for context, but can be read without as well. Begins about a month after Helping Hands.
Also - I've taken a leap of faith and started the 👾 Discord channel 👾 Here's to a social experiment that can turn out any way you want 🍻
Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive @faearchives @margopinkerton @dreaming-with-happiness @confessionsofamarshlily @purpleseoul7 @sumzysworld @xjoonchildx @infinitehobi @handfullofcandids
Listen to: "100 words" by prateek kuhad
hoseok masterlist | main masterlist
Hoseok taps his foot and checks his watch. It’s almost five past seven, meaning it’s almost five minutes late. Turning slightly, he peers into the small doorway of the building, trying to see anything that would indicate how much longer this would take. Then, mercifully, the stained glass door is pushed open and people start filing out one by one.
Sighing in relief, he waits to spot Chaeyoung but as more and more people leave, some walking down the street and some getting into parked cars, his frown deepens when she isn’t one of them. He checks his messages, wondering if his information is incorrect, for nearly the entire yoga class has exited now. He contemplates calling her again but before he can decide, he finally sees her step out, a tote bag hitched on one shoulder and her long hair in a ponytail.
“Chae!” He calls, cringing when a couple of people turn to look. Ducking his head and pulling his cap lower down, he jogs over to where she’s continuing down the pavement, apparently not having heard him. “Chaeyoung,” he repeats at a normal volume, frowning when she still doesn’t turn. “Hey, I’m calling your name,” he tries to say, reaching out and grabbing her arm, when a blinding pain shoots up his face.
“Oh, my God!”
“Oh, my God!” he cries, holding his hands up to his face where his nose feels like it’s been crushed.
“Hoseok?”
He nods and doubles over, his eyes watering slightly, when he feels a pair of small hands steering him by the shoulders and back onto what feels like a bench.
“Oh, God, what are you -” She sounds winded - and terribly confused. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
“Oh, my God,” he mutters, his voice muffled. He drops his hands to his sides, his eyes squeezed shut. “What did you do? I can’t - I can’t feel -” He groans dramatically. “Is my face broken? Is it my nose? Is there blood?”
“Your face…” Soft fingers gingerly touch the bridge of his nose and Hoseok flinches. “It seems okay.”
“Really? There’s no blood?”
“There’s no blood,” she confirms. “I think you’re okay. Jesus… oppa, what are you doing here? And why would you grab me like that?”
Hoseok opens his eyes tentatively, the initial pain and shock already subsiding, to see Chaeyoung take a seat beside him. “I didn’t grab you. I was just trying to get your attention without being seen,” he explains, lightly touching his nose. “Why did you punch me?”
“Because I thought you were trying to grab me!” she exclaims. “Besides, we just learned it in class so I was already kind of in the zone.”
“You -” He frowns incredulously. “What the hell kind of yoga class was this?”
“I didn’t do yoga. I took a self-defense class,” she explains. “Yoga… wasn’t what I needed today.” She bites her lip apologetically. “But I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.”
“No,” he sighs, sitting up straighter and trying to move his face, relieved when it doesn’t hurt too much. “I’m glad you know what to do when someone grabs you, I guess.”
Chaeyoung gives him a small smile before frowning. “Um… so, what are you… I mean…” She shakes her head. “Why didn’t you call?”
Hoseok glances at her out of the corner of his eye. She looks flushed, although whether it’s from her class or accidentally having punched him, he can’t tell. “I did, about two hours ago. You didn’t answer.”
She nods slowly. “Right. My phone’s been on silent for most of the day.” When he doesn’t respond, she continues. “How did you even know I was here?”
“Jimin.”
“So, Sooah.”
“They’re kind of a package deal now.”
“Right.” She gives him the same small smile, almost amused, before it fades. “So… what’s going on?”
“Well…” Hoseok takes off his cap and runs a hand through his hair, suddenly awkward. “I was in the neighbourhood and I wanted to see if… you maybe wanted to get a coffee… or a frozen yoghurt or… something. It’s pretty warm out.”
She looks at him a little skeptically and Hoseok wonders if she’s mentally calculating how far both his house and the Big Hit building are from here. For a moment, he’s afraid she’s going to decline but then she nods slowly. “Sure. I could get some frozen yoghurt. In fact, I think I owe you one now,” she adds, and they both chuckle.
Hoseok hesitates, hoping he hasn’t pressured her into this, but when she stands up and holds out a hand for him to take, he sighs inwardly in relief. He takes her hand and stands up as well, feeling his nose throb dully again.
“Oppa,” she says as they begin walking and their hands separate, “why are you limping?”
“Limping?” He straightens up self-consciously. “I’m not limping…”
“Yeah, you were, just now…”
“No, I wasn’t…”
“You know, the nerves in your face don’t affect your ability to walk…”
“Oh, I must have missed the email where you became a doctor…”
—
An hour later, they walk down the street leading up to Chaeyoung’s apartment building, a small tub of frozen yoghurt in each of their hands.
“You know,” says Hoseok, taking a spoonful of his banana yoghurt, “I owe you a bit of an apology.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Mhm. Growing up, I didn’t take you very seriously,” he begins, rolling his eyes when she nods in agreement. “I don’t know what it was but I just didn’t… I don’t know, I always thought you were just a kid. Like, what did you know? You know?”
“Sure.”
“But,” he continues, “I feel like I misjudged you. Because you told me, back when we all went to Jeju for my parents’ anniversary weekend, that apricots were a good topping on a dessert and I didn’t believe you, but now…” He simply sighs and spoons out a shredded apricot from his yoghurt. “I can’t believe how well these flavours go. I mean, you were really onto something.”
Chaeyoung suppresses a smile and nods. “I really was. You should’ve listened to me.”
“I know,” he agrees. “I can’t believe I wasted fourteen years not knowing how good of a topping apricots are.”
“You know what’s ironic?” she asks, popping a strawberry into her mouth. “After that day, I stopped eating apricots. It was like they sucked all of a sudden. And then when I was, like… seventeen or something, I made this dessert that we used to eat when we were kids that had apricots in it, and I realised what an idiot I’d been.”
“If you listened to thirteen-year-old me’s advice, then, yeah, you were.” He finishes the last of his yoghurt and holds his hand out for her empty cup as well, depositing them both in a passing garbage bin. “But tell me more about this dessert with apricots in it.”
But she shrugs and waves a hand dismissively. “My dad lost the recipe years ago. It was kind of like a mix of a pie and a pudding… the only thing I got right in it were the apricots.” She falls silent.
Hoseok nods but doesn’t prod. He glances at her furtively again, letting her walk a couple of steps ahead of him, observing her general demeanour. Neither Sooah nor Jimin had mentioned anything about a self-defense class; in fact, to Hoseok’s knowledge, she had left behind all high intensity sports and workouts in middle school, joining the dance club in college and taking up yoga after that. He thinks of her flushed cheeks and heavy breathing when she’d exited the class, along with her phone being on silent all day.
It’s always a hard day for her.
“By the way,” says Chaeyoung, turning around and waiting for Hoseok to catch up. “Thanks for this.”
“For what?”
“This. The yoghurt, the walk.” She pauses. “The company.”
Hoseok nods nonchalantly. “Of course. No need to thank me. I had fun. And made a life-changing discovery about apricots,” he adds.
She cracks half a smile before giving him a look. “Hoseok.”
“What?”
“I know you know.”
“Know what?”
She sighs hugely, but doesn’t sound annoyed. “You showed up out of nowhere. Took me out for fro-yo, even after I sort of avoided you all day. So, I know you know. I’m guessing my brother told you?” she asks, looking up at him.
“Told me what?” he asks weakly, but he can tell the game is up. “Alright, fine. Yeah, he - he may have mentioned something,” he admits, looking at his shoes.
“And?” Chaeyoung raises her eyebrows. “What did he say?”
Hoseok bites his lip uneasily; her expression is too neutral for him to predict what her reaction will be to his conversation with Chanyeol this morning.
Are you talking to my sister these days?
What? I mean - yeah, I guess. Like, a normal amount? Why - why would you ask if -
Have you talked to her today?
Uh, no. Actually, I texted her this morning but I never heard back.
Yeah, I thought so. She kind of keeps to herself every year around my mom’s birthday. It’s always a hard day for her.
Oh. I’m sorry, man. Are you okay?
Yeah, I’m fine. And so is she, most likely. But if you do happen to talk to her or run into her… I don’t know, just check in on her. If you can.
“He, uh…” He sighs softly. “He said it’s your mom’s birthday. And that I should check in, if I could.”
Chaeyoung nods. “Well, you didn’t need to do that. But, thank you, anyway.”
There’s something odd about the way she says it, and it takes a moment for Hoseok’s wording to click in his mind. “Wait, that’s not why I’m here.”
She raises her eyebrows. “It’s not? You just… wanted to hang out with me?”
He pauses for a fraction of a second. “Yeah, I did,” he answers honestly. “I’ve been away for almost a month. I was hoping we could hang out in person instead of just on text, like we’ve been doing.”
Chaeyoung stops near her building. The corner of her mouth looks like she’s suppressing a smile, but the moment passes and Hoseok isn’t sure if he imagined it.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t know if you’d want to talk about it.”
She nods slowly and taps the toe of her shoe into the road, her fingers wrapped around the strap of her gym bag. “I don’t really talk about it.”
“That’s fine,” he says. “You don’t have to. But you can… if you want. Whenever you want,” he adds.
“I don’t talk about it… because I don’t have anything to talk about. I don’t remember her at all,” she says after a moment, and her voice wobbles ever so slightly. “Not even her face. Not her voice. Just a stupid dessert with apricots,” she mutters, rolling her eyes. “But I still miss her,” she admits, sniffling.
A pang goes through Hoseok’s heart all the way down to his stomach and he presses his toes into the ground to keep from stepping towards her. “You can talk to Chan,” he suggests gently. “He actually does remember her. I know he wouldn’t mind talking to you about her.”
Chaeyoung bites her lip and sniffs, her face contorting. “My dad doesn’t even remember,” she whispers before her voice breaks, and Hoseok wraps his arms around her in a hug.
Hoseok is a crier; it’s no surprise to anyone who knows him well enough, his tendency to cry at anything remotely emotional. This is different, though, he feels, as he tries to silently blink away his tears at the sound of Chaeyoung’s soft, muffled cries against his shoulder. She isn’t sobbing; in fact, he can barely hear her. But he can feel it, her shoulders shaking, her hair brushing against his collarbone, and her arms coming around his waist.
He wishes he could fix it for her, knowing at the same time that he can’t. It’s beyond him, predates him, and the only thing he feels he has any control over right now is rubbing holding Chaeyoung, rubbing her shoulders and letting her cry for as long as she needs.
As it turns out, it doesn’t last much longer. Chaeyoung sniffles one last time and drops her arms from around his waist, gently pulling away.
“M’kay,” she mumbles, wiping her face on her sleeve and stepping back. “I think I ruined your hoodie, though,” she adds, giving him a watery smile.
“Don’t worry about it.” He brushes his thumb across her cheek, feeling wetness on it, no longer nervous about touching her. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah. It’s okay. I look really pretty when I cry. Especially right after.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Mhm.” She nods seriously. “My face gets all flushed and red. Sometimes when I cry and catch my reflection in the mirror, I really think I could be in a music video or something. After whatever crisis I’m going through ends, of course.”
“In a music video? Just crying really prettily?”
“Yeah. So, you know, if you ever need anyone…” She shrugs exaggeratedly.
Hoseok chuckles, his heart feeling so big and so warm. “I’ll keep that in mind. And you’re pretty even when you don’t cry,” he adds, touching her chin.
She sniffs but smiles, a little knowingly, her eyes still a little red. “Thanks, oppa.” She nudges his hand away in mock-annoyance and their hands fall to their sides, fingers loosely interlinked. In the dark street with only street lamps lighting it, her cheeks darken slightly.
“I should go,” he says.
“Yeah. Me, too.”
He nods. “Say hi to Chan for me.”
Chaeyoung chuckles, looking a little sheepish. “Will do.” After a moment, she licks her lips and Hoseok decides she’s right: she looks radiant. “You can let go of my hand now, oppa,” she adds softly.
Despite the heat that creeps up his neck, he doesn’t feel embarrassed. Slowly dropping her fingers, he nods and steps back. “Goodnight, Chae.”
“Night. Thanks, again.”
“You got it.” He reaches forward and kisses her on the cheek. “Call me if you need anything,” he says, smiling and placing his hands into his pockets.
Chaeyoung nods. “Bye.” She hesitates for a moment but then turns to leave, turning her head every now and then on the way into her apartment building. Hoseok waits until she’s inside, waving at her just as she disappears for the night.
—
Hoseok [12:59]
It was Godzilla. I just remembered.
Chaeyoung [13:01]
What was Godzilla?
Oh wait, yes!
How did you remember?
Hoseok [13:03]
My first sleepover at your house.
I went through my Facebook. Actually, Chan’s Facebook.
Chaeyoung [13:04]
You must have gone REALLY far back for that.
Hoseok [13:05]
I did. You don’t want to know the horrors I’ve seen. I don’t know why your brother hasn’t deleted any of these old pictures like a normal person.
Chaeyoung [13:06]
He’s kind of sentimental that way. Find anything interesting?
Hoseok [13:06]
Nothing I’m showing YOU.
Chaeyoung [13:06]
Aww, come on!
Hoseok [13:07]
There are enough incriminating pictures of me mid-puberty on the internet.
Chaeyoung [13:07]
But those are public! This one will be our little secret, I promise. I’ll only tease you about it privately.
Hoseok [13:08]
That doesn’t give me a lot of comfort. And besides, who said this picture is of me?
Chaeyoung [13:09]
You did?
Hoseok [13:09]
Ha. You can’t even begin to imagine what this picture is of.
Chaeyoung [13:10]
… I’m wearing braces in it, aren’t I?
Hoseok [13:10]
Actually, yeah. But that’s not what I’m talking about.
Chaeyoung [13:11]
Ugh. At least tell me, even if you aren;t going to show it to me.
Hoseok [13:12]
I should sleep actually. It’s after 3 in the morning.
Chaeyoung [13:12]
Don’t you dare. Oppa!
Hoseok [13:13]
Goodnight, kiddo.
Chaeyoung [13:13]
I hate youuuu.
Hoseok [13:14]
Lies. Talk to you tomorrow.
Chaeyoung [13:14]
You wish.
Chaeyoung [13:17]
Goodnight, Hobi.
—
Something changes after their night of impromptu fro-yo. Talking becomes more frequent, texting becomes like breathing, and goodnights become fonder and more meaningful every day. Chaeyoung finds herself expecting a message from him every time she picks up her phone; when he’s asleep or working or flying, she ends up scrolling through their conversations, feeling involuntary smiles creep onto her face.
She misses Hoseok, she realises eventually, her stomach often churning with the uncertainty and borderline exasperation at herself for feeling ancient, repressed emotions that she thought she’d done away with years ago. Unlike the last time, however, the acts of missing him and thinking about him are coupled with flutters in her stomach, her heart skipping beats and small smiles in the dark - all cemented with the knowledge that this time, he’s missing her, too.
But it won’t do well to be delusional. She’s been down that path before and despite Hoseok’s clearly reciprocated signals, she attempts to keep her speculations at bay. He’s on tour; there’s no telling what it will be like once it’s over and he’s back home.
Except, she can tell, somewhat. Four hours of a Harry Potter marathon where they laughed at the most unfunny jokes, walking around Seoul on a day they both knew was difficult for her, the endless threads of conversation that filled the void when they were apart - these things mattered. They had to.
Chaeyoung lightly bites the edge of her S-pen as her tablet screen goes dark, a new gift from her father and stepmother. She needs to clean her room soon, she notes, when her eyes fall on the plant sitting at the top of her desk. Hoseok had brought it to her almost hesitantly - after walking in on her half-naked, of course. The memory makes her cheeks go hot and she taps her phone to see the last message he’d sent her, about half an hour ago.
Are you home?
A blasé yes was all she’d sent, but the wait was starting to render her incapable of concentrating on anything else. He hasn’t responded to her message but it’s no matter; chances are he’s on his way over.
Hardly a minute later, the doorbell rings. Chaeyoung’s heart leaps as she scrambles off the bed, grabbing a pair of track pants from the edge of her bed before pausing. Turning to the full length mirror, she zeroes in on the barely visible strip of shorts visible from under her oversized T-shirt, followed by bare thighs and legs from there on.
A moment later, she chucks the track pants back onto the bed and skips out of her room, opening the front door.
“Hey,” she says, sounding nonchalant as ever. “What are you doing here?”
Hoseok frowns. “What do you mean? I texted you.”
“Oh, yeah. Of course. Sorry.”
He narrows his eyes at her, clearly not buying her reaction. Chaeyoung purses her lips together to hide her growing smile when he shakes his head and produces a shopping bag from behind his back about the size of a small laptop.
“Happy birthday, kiddo,” he says, tilting his head and giving her the bag.
Chaeyoung raises her eyebrows. “Wow. Thanks,” she says, frowning, “but is this really why you’re here?”
“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because my birthday was three days ago.”
Hoseok exhales. “Well, three days ago I was in Australia,” he reminds her, “and coming here is the first - no, second thing I’ve done since I landed in Seoul.”
“What was the first?”
“Getting your gift.”
Chaeyoung struggles to suppress her smile and eventually gives up. “Alright, you may enter,” she allows, stepping aside and grinning when he gently flicks her forehead. “What did you get me?”
“I mean, you can open it. But after I leave,” he adds quickly, grabbing her hand as she starts opening the bag.
“What? Why?”
“Just. If you don’t like it, I prefer to not be here when you find out.”
She scoffs as they go into her room. “Shut up, I’m sure I’ll love it.”
“Okay, but only the first box.”
“There’s a first box?” Chaeyoung places the bag on her bed and retrieves the item on top, a red box with a lot of fancy design. “Ooh, cupcakes!”
“And not a single one is chocolate,” he says proudly as she opens the box to see three large cupcakes with animated animals painted on them. “This place is great, by the way. Less than twenty-four hours notice but they custom-made it all in time.”
“For J-Hope, I’m sure they did,” she teases, checking a little pink paper inside listing all the ingredients in a loopy font. “Wow, low sugar, gluten-free -“
“And the frosting is yoghurt, not buttercream.”
“… and they all have apricots,” she finishes, biting her lip.
“That’s a coincidence.” But he gives her a bashful smile anyway, which widens when she reaches up and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Do you want to share?” she asks, taking out the first one with the Kung Fu Panda on it in icing.
“Share? No, they’re for you,” he argues, sitting at the small bay window and waving his hand encouragingly. “Go on.”
“I -“ She hesitates, not wanting to seem ungrateful. “I’ll end up exceeding my calories for the day.”
Hoseok raises his eyebrows. “You’re counting calories? You?” he prods, poking her side playfully. But there’s a note of sternness in his voice.
“Not strictly,” she amends quickly. “Just… they like a certain… aesthetic, at Conde Nast.”
“Aesthetic?”
“Yeah. And they remind you of it if they so much as spot you eating a sandwich at lunch,” she informs him. “Apparently the carbs are not on brand.”
“Who said that to you?” he asks sharply.
“Not to me, to my desk mate. But, come on, you know how it is,” she argues, feeling a little defensive. “You work in entertainment and they don’t let you eat either.”
“Yeah, doesn’t mean I agree with it.”
Chaeyoung sighs at the impasse and falls silent, staring at the cupcakes. They really do look cute; without warning, her stomach rumbles.
“Hey.” He nudges her leg with his foot. “Come on. I’ll share.”
She raises her eyebrows. “You’re on tour,” she reminds him. “Aren’t you on a fifty calorie a day kind of diet?”
Hoseok rolls his eyes. “I don’t care. It’s your birthday. Kind of.” He gives her a small smile and a wink. “I can indulge. If you will.”
“Are you bribing me?”
“I’m making you a deal. Plus, I really can’t resist apricots now,” he says in a matter-of-fact way. “Come on, caterpillar, it’s melting.”
She grins and nods. “Alright, fine,” she agrees, secretly thrilled, sitting at the other end of the bay window. It’s a small space, just short of being cramped; in the quiet of the night, it’s almost cosy.
They share the cupcake as they talk about nothing and everything in particular. Hoseok’s tiredness and jet lag is apparent; his eyelids look heavy and there are hints of bags under his eyes. Despite that, he’s as chirpy as ever, telling her all about his tour and asking her about everything she’s done during the last month.
“By the way,” she says after a while, once the cupcake is demolished in a surprisingly short amount of time, “did you just call me caterpillar?”
“Did I?” He frowns for a moment before his forehead clears. “Huh. I guess I did.”
“Yeah. You called me that the other night, too, when you were wasted.”
“Wow, really?” He looks deep in thought. “Why? I don’t remember ever calling you that before.”
“Really?” Chaeyoung asks skeptically. “You don’t remember calling me that every single time you ever saw me for all of third grade? You don’t remember,” she continues as he gasps, evidently just recalling, “saying that I reminded you of a caterpillar appearing out of nowhere?”
“Holy shit,” he chuckles. “I actually did forget that. It kind of did feel like that, if I’m being honest.”
“That’s just great,” she mutters, rolling her eyes and turning away, even when he squeezes her knee. “So glad I brought it up.”
“Hey, no. Come on. I swear I wasn’t thinking about that when I called you caterpillar just now,” he promises. “It just felt like a habit. Honest.”
“Mhm,” she hums, saying no more but turning back to face him. Truth be told, she doesn’t need him to defend himself. He may not remember, but she does. Mostly, she remembers his tone when he used to say it, with derision and irritation at once. It was nothing like it is now, full of affection and humour and fondness.
“I was a jerk. Back then.”
“Yeah, but you’re not anymore,” she admits, resting her head on the window by her side. He smiles in relief and something else, and Chaeyoung’s heart skips a beat. “But to make things even, I’m opening your gift.”
“Ooh, you got me,” he says sarcastically as she climbs off and reaches for the bag on her bed. “Just remember, most places were closing down by the time I went out,” he adds, a hint of nervousness in his voice anyway.
“No way, my standards are going to be super high for this gift now.” She reaches in and pulls out an envelope made of card stock, in a very familiar rose gold colour. “What is… oh, my God!”
“What? Ow!” he exclaims unnecessarily when she slaps his shoulder with the envelope.
“You got me a Sephora gift card?”
“Well, yeah… I didn’t want to buy you something and have you whine over it not being the exact variation you wanted,” he explains feebly, hugging her back when she bends and throws her arms around his neck. “You’re pretty fussy about your skincare and make-up.”
“I am,” she agrees happily, sitting back down in her previous spot and gazing at the gift card. “Wow. This is perfect. Really.”
“I’m glad,” he replies, the relief and amusement apparent on his face. “It’s valid for six months so you and Sooah can make a whole day of it, shopping and stuff.”
“Yeah, I don’t think that will happen,” she says, shaking her head. “Shopping isn’t really Sooah’s thing and ever since she and Jimin got back together, I’ve barely seen her.”
“Yeah, well, they’re making up for about five years of being apart,” he reasons. “It’s going to be a couple months of honeymooning before the drama starts again.”
“Looking forward to that. But I’m not waiting until then,” she says, holding up the gift card. “Even if it means I go solo.”
Hoseok is quiet for a moment. “I can go with you.”
She snorts. “To buy make-up and skincare?”
“Yes. I take very good care of my skin - I could be of some help.”
Something warm and fuzzy spreads through Chaeyoung’s chest. “I’m a very slow shopper.”
“Lucky for you, I have four days before I need to travel again. Including a weekend.”
She bites her lip, wishing her heart would calm down. “Alright. It’s your funeral.”
“I have a lot of opinions when it comes to shopping. It’s your funeral.”
Chaeyoung laughs. “I’ll take that risk,” she says, standing up and walking towards her desk. “Someday you’re going to make some girl super lucky, oppa,” she adds, placing the gift card to stand carefully on top of a neat stack of books, in the position of honour. She nods in satisfaction and turns around to see his smile slightly fading. “What?” she asks, watching him carefully for his reaction.
He takes a deep breath as though about to say something, but at the last second shakes his head. “Nothing. I’m glad you like the gift.”
“I love it,” she says honestly, sitting back down. “In fact, I love it so much that I don’t think I can ask you for the other thing I wanted.”
“Which is?”
She grins. “The super incriminating picture you found on Chanyeol’s Facebook? The one we were talking about last week.”
Hoseok laughs and groans. “That is never seeing the light of day.”
“That’s preteen Hoseok talking,” she insists. “Preteen Hoseok would hate it.”
“Oh, he would.”
She smiles and shrugs. “I was going to use my birthday to see it. But you played it really well.”
“Thank God.” He stifles a yawn and rubs his eyes.
“You look exhausted,” she murmurs. “Do you want to sleep here?”
“I… shouldn’t.” He gives her an apologetic sort of smile. “I need to unpack, and everything. You should get to bed, too,” he adds, standing up and running a hand through his hair.
“Okay.” Chaeyoung stands up as well and follows him out of her room, not really expecting him to take her up on her offer. “Thanks for coming, oppa. And for… everything,” she says, once he’s slipped on his shoes and is about to leave.
“You’re welcome.” He turns around and leans against the doorway, giving her a wide smile. “Did you have fun at your birthday dinner, though?”
She shrugs. “Could’ve been more fun. Promise me you’ll make it next time.”
“Uh-huh, absolutely,” he promises, nodding seriously. “Even if I have to take a private jet just for that.”
“Good.” She reaches up the same time that he steps forward and they hug, more comfortably than she once could’ve ever imagined. “Thank you. Really,” she mumbles into his shoulder.
“Of course, caterpillar,” he answers as they pull away, but stay in the same spot.
Chaeyoung feels the same slight skip in her chest at the new-old nickname. She doesn’t know if she’s imagining it, Hoseok’s hesitation in taking a step back, or his eyes flickering towards her mouth.
You’re Chan’s sister. You’re the one girl on earth I can’t mess with.
He’d said that months ago, also during a visit to her room. But she can’t imagine his feelings are the same as they were then.
His cologne is faint, as though he’d last worn it a while ago, probably before flying out of Australia. The flight from another timezone, mid-tour, after which he’d come home, gone straight to the mall and come over to her place.
His face is definitely closer now, the slight frown on his forehead surely indicating that there’s something he’s wrestling with. Chaeyoung’s toes curl on the bare floor; deciding to help him out, she tilts her head up and kisses her big brother’s best friend.
Challenge accepted.
It’s only for a moment; Chaeyoung pulls away immediately but before she can move more than an inch away, Hoseok steps forward and kisses her again, his lips firmly on hers this time.
Chaeyoung’s eyes flutter shut as everything else disappears. It’s just Hoseok, soft lips, gentle movements, his hand in her hair and his lean, slender frame under her palms. He opens his mouth slowly against hers, as though he has all the time in the world, and she sighs silently.
Super lucky.
They break apart after what feels like minutes, or hours or several days. Hoseok doesn’t move his hand or step back, and Chaeyoung looks up uncertainly to see his eyes squeezed shut.
“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath.
Chaeyoung tries for a moment, again, to suppress her smile but then gives up. It widens when Hoseok slowly meets her eyes, several emotions on his face that she knows they’ll have to deal with later, but regret nowhere visible.
“Goodnight, Hobi,” she murmurs.
He sighs. “Happy birthday, caterpillar,” he replies softly, tilting his head and pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her cheek. “Sweet dreams.”
It takes him a moment to step away but he does, his face mildly flushed and his cheeks lifted, despite him not exactly smiling. He gives her a small, meaningful wave before turning around and leaving.
Chaeyoung watches him until he leaves her floor before letting herself smile as wide as her heart wants, exhaling hugely and stepping back into her house. Her phone pings as soon as she enters a room, and the screen glows with a notification from Hoseok.
Heart fluttering embarrassingly fast, she clicks on it.
Hoseok [00:24]
[photo]
Preteen Hoseok was an idiot. Twenty-six year old Hoseok actually kind of likes it.
The picture loads and Chaeyoung tries to swallow the lump in her throat. A screenshot of a Facebook post, old and grainy, like something taken on a digital camera, three kids sat on a sofa in her parents’ house. Chanyeol was on one side and Chaeyoung on the other, and in between them sat Hoseok, scrawny and skinny with a smile like the sun, one arm around each of the siblings.
She was smiling, too, in the picture, extremely widely despite the braces she always hated. There’s surprise and delight and a myriad of other feelings but the one that stands out to her is the one on Hoseok’s face, for once devoid of annoyance around her.
He didn’t hate her. Not always. Not as much as she thought. Lost in a sea of heartfelt nostalgia, her gaze drops to the caption.
Kang Chanyeol: My two favourite idiots in the world!
A seed of doubt settles into her heart. But a moment later she shakes her head, cropping out the caption and saving the picture to her phone. She crawls into bed and shafts Chanyeol to the recesses of her mind, choosing to keep one night to herself where she thinks about nothing but her first real kiss with Jung Hoseok.
—
Thanks for reading. Don’t forget to drop a review :)
#hoseok x oc#hoseok fanfic#thebtswritersclub#bangtanwhq#micdropnet#k-vanity#houseofddaeng#wkcnet#hyunglinenetwork#bts jhope fanfic
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Into Oblivion
Pairing: Hoseok x Reader
↳ 4k / Angst
Summary: Hoseok can’t remember anymore, fragments of his memories simply scattered. It leaves him with nothing, unable to recognize faces or locations and it’s not long before he’s left stuck, sinking into oblivion. That’s when you step in, the only person that is able to solve the mystery that is him.
⇨ Amnesia (noun.); a gap in one’s memory
Warnings: graphic violence, depictions of blood, mentions of illness - disclaimer: there will be medical inaccuracies, please take them from a story standpoint.
GIF credit.
His head hurts. A lot.
It’s throbbing and pulsating through the crane of his skull, pounding relentlessly. His body is quivering, a pool of red encasing around him. He tastes copper in his mouth, a few drops falling down from his temples and onto the ground.
The sirens around him are blaring, threatening to split his eardrums in half. Flashes of red and blue are going off, people are murmuring and whispering as he can barely muster the energy to look up, a deep groan escaping him instead.
His eyes flutter shut and he’s plunged into darkness, mind shattering into pieces.
“...–should be right this way.”
Your heels click against the ground, a white coat enveloping your shoulders and fingers wrapped around a clipboard. Your eyes trace around the vicinity, noticing the stench of disinfectant and the white walls right away.
You were never a fan of hospitals – but fate seemed to have other plans for you.
“Here we are.” The nurse before you smiles, her arm extending into the room on your right. You courteously thank her and she departs, leaving you standing alone before the door.
Sucking in a deep inhale, your hand wraps around the knob.
The bright lights flash before your eyes, slowly dimming down until you’re greeted to a white room. It’s entirely empty, save for the bed off to the far side. A young man sits up on it, dressed in a light blue gown. His back is hunched over and there’s a distant look to his eyes.
You walk over slowly, noticing how he barely reacts to your entrance, not even lifting his head.
“Hi.” you breathlessly say, a soft smile curving on your lips. “Jung Hoseok, right? It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
You reach out your hand, but you’re only granted silence. Hoseok is still staring down at his lap, gaze fixated down.
He answers after a pause.
“Who are you?” There's no intrigue in his voice, just simple disdain. However, you lower your hand, smile not once fading.
“My name is Y/N.” You introduce. “I’m Dr. Choi’s assistant, the doctor that has been looking after you.”
Hoseok doesn’t answer you, choosing to focus his gaze back onto his lap again. You take that as a cue to walk to the far corner of the room and grab a chair, placing it next to his backside.
Seating yourself down, you pick up your pen and lean back, facing your clipboard.
“Would you be comfortable if I asked you some questions?” You ponder, watching him throw another glance at you before slowly nodding
You take up the opportunity whole-heartedly. “I’ve been informed by Dr. Choi that you have been suffering from…retrograde amnesia.” You say the words cautiously, “Is this correct?”
Hoseok sighs, before nodding. “And it was a result of severe head trauma? From a car accident?”
he nods again, pursuing his lips.
“How long has it been for you?”
“One year.” He states and you nod, but then he adds in– “With no sight of recovery so far.”
“Let’s try to hope for the best.” You implore, writing down on your clipboard. “Have you been experiencing any symptoms other than memory loss?”
Headaches. – he wants to say, but at this rate, he can’t remember if they were like the same pounding one he had during the accident.
“No.” He states, noticing you write down the little tidbit from the corner of his eyes.
He chuckles underneath his breath, and you snap your head up.
“You’re wasting your time here.” He scoffs, “I already know….there’s no cure for me.”
Hoseok’s not stupid. He’s lost his memories, but he can still observe, still notice the regard in with Dr. Choi addresses him with.
He’s hopeless, and it’s something that’s become more and more apparent as the days have passed by.
He finally looks up to glance at you. He’s expecting a lot, either frustration or apathy.
Frustration from his lack of willingness. Apathy towards his fed up attitude. Maybe even shock, considering you heard so much of him from Dr. Choi.
But as Hoseok glances at you, he finds nothing but concern dwelling in your eyes. A reaction that shakes him to the core.
He watches as you set your clipboard down completely, redirecting all your attention onto him.
“Hoseok…” You mutter quietly, a little too tenderly. “I know this is difficult and that you’ve been through a lot, but we’re here to help…here to help you.” You whisper the last part, tapping his hand, “You’ll overcome this.”
Hoseok doesn’t want to believe it. He’s heard it all at this point – that he’ll be better in no time, that he’ll be able to go back to his previous life. But it’s all been wrong, complete lies that took his time and spun it into an entire year.
If anything, you could be lying to his face now, giving him the false perception that things were all okay, when in reality they were far from it.
But as Hoseok continues to gaze at you, there’s something comforting within your gaze, something almost reassuring, something filled with so much hope.
It deeply unsettles him.
***
Hoseok doesn’t greet you with disdain the next time you visit.
Instead, he still sits quietly on his bed, sheets pulled up to his torso and hands fiddling in his lap. But his gaze isn’t concentrated on them.
His eyes survey you instead, the curiosity dwelling in them being unmistakable.
“Hi.” You warmly greet him with a smile, slipping into your chair. “How has your day been going?”
“It’s been fine.” He states, watching you bring your clipboard up again.
“We can continue where we left off yesterday.” You explain, “You had mentioned that there were certain things you could still remember?”
He hums, “It’s limited…very limited.” A huff escapes him. “I can remember some basic facts, like my name, and my age. But some things…are just completely out of my scope.”
“What do you mean?”
Hoseok hesitates, lips not moving to form an answer as your question lingers in the air. But his next words hold the weight of the world.
“My parents, I…” He breathes out. “I-I can hardly remember them.”
Your eyes widen. While it wasn’t completely uncommon to forget faces and locations, Hoseok seems completely withdrawn, an anguished look reflecting within his eyes.
He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to force the words out.
“They came the other day…” He confesses. “They kept asking how I was feeling, or if I had eaten on time. They were talking to the nurses, asking for any updates about my condition, but–”
He grimaces.
“What is it, Hoseok?” You press forward, and his voice trembles.
“I had just asked – “Who are you?” – and it gave me enough of an answer.”
You silently watch as Hoseok shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the thoughts. You knew his parents hadn’t come to visit him before, that they were advised that he needed time for his treatment. Perhaps they thought it was a better opportunity to do so now, that he could potentially recognize them or indicate that he was getting better.
But you can only imagine them taking a foot into the room, expressions filled with so much love and concern, only to see Hoseok’s blank expression and void eyes staring back.
“They were disappointed.” You state and he nods.
They had come for their son, only to have left without seeing him at all.
He darkly chuckles. “Just like anyone else that tries to visit.”
You watch dejectedly as he plants a hand against his temples, rubbing the area as he winces. Putting down your clipboard, you rise from your seat and stick your head out from the door. Hoseok doesn’t seem to notice much, only surprise emitting from him when you hand him a bottle of medication and a glass of water.
“The nurse outside gave it to me.” You clarify, “Told me it helps calm headaches.”
Hoseok slowly nods, recognizing it as medication he’s taken before. He takes it from your hands, downing it with the waterwith a low muttered thank you.
You decide to tread on other areas, hoping to avoid the topic of his parents altogether for now.
“What about other things?” You question. “Anything else you still remember?”
“I can remember where I live…” Your eyes spark, watching him attentively. Hoseok recalls parts of his residence, a big and spacious apartment within a complex.
But he also recalls stumbling into it a couple weeks after his accident, nothing in it appearing familiar. It was as if he had stepped foot into someone’s home, someone he doesn’t recognize.
“And?” You question hopefully.
He lets out a deep sigh. “–and nothing. Nothing came to mind.”
It's terribly frustrating. How much he’s kept pushing and pulling, only to have no recollection surfacing in his mind. How he was told that he lived in this one place for years, but stood in the centre of it with completely blank eyes and just mere confusion.
And of course – just how much it’s hurting the people around him. It’s moments like this that dip him into dread, having lost everything through the blink of an eye.
You observe him with sullen eyes, long forgotten to write down on your clipboard.
“Memories…” You quietly begin, watching him lift his head to stare at you. “They’re something everyone takes for granted. Not realising just how important they are.”
Hoseok’s eyes turn somber, and you continue. “I don’t think the best course of action is to remember.” - you’ve long forgotten how to – “I think it’s for you to see these past memories as pieces of information, focusing on them almost as if you were creating new ones.”
Hoseok grows silent, watching you carefully. If he were to take a step away completely, cut these memories away like strings attached to him, and merely observed, taking them in as simple knowledge rather than trying to equate each one to himself and his lack of memories, maybe, just maybe, he could take them in as new memories, rather than past ones.
It’s not something he would have ever tried before, too stuck on an accident that happened months ago. But for once, he wants to try.
He wants to get better.
“Okay…” He breathes out, making eye contact with you. “I…I want to try, Y/N.”
Hoseok isn’t expecting much, but when your eyes widen and there’s a huge smile breaking out onto your features from his response, he can’t help but feel a bit lighter.
***
The next time Hoseok sees you, he finds you in bit of a disarray.
You walk into his room, your white coat hanging off of your shoulders. Your chest heaves up and down, hands tightly clutched around onto a thermos.
Hoseok is baffled when you glance up, throwing a bright smile in his direction.
“Here.” you say, placing it beside him on his table. His eyes flicker down at it, before gazing at you in utter confusion.
“What is it?”
“Oh, it’s herbal tea.” You clarify but upon seeing his expression, you continue to explain. “I ran into your mother on my way in here.” A grimace runs through you, “She thought it’d be best if I was the one who gave it to you. Said it was your favourite.”
Dread runs through Hoseok at the thought. He supposes it was still hard for her to see him after their last encounter, but he’s stricken with the fact that she’s still looking out for him.
However, he’s grateful. You didn’t need to listen to her request, could have easily bypassed her and made your way down here. Instead, you took upon the opportunity to oblige, acting as sort of a messenger between the two of them.
“Thank you.” Hoseok quietly mutters, “You didn’t have to do this.”
“I wanted to.” You state within a heartbeat, giving him a tender smile that has Hoseok’s eyes widening. You reach over, pouring him a cup and handing it to him, before sitting back down in your chair and bringing your clipboard back up in your hands.
He snaps out of his daze, moving to bring the cup to his lips to take a cautious sip. It’s extremely fragrant, wafting through the air. But it's pleasant, reminding him of a home.
“It’s good…really good.” He whispers, “I don’t remember exactly, but I think I can understand…understand why I liked it.”
You watch as he continues to drink it and for once, you finally see something surface on Hoseok’s expression. It’s something you haven’t been able to uncover for so long, masked with a thin layer of uncertainty and mixed in with deep doubt.
For once, there’s hope on Hoseok’s features.
The corner of your mouth curls up, warmth flooding through your gaze. You blink, tearing your gaze away from him and having to remind yourself of your task at hand.
Feeling the smooth ridge of your clipboard, you raise it back up.
“Ready to start our session for the day?”
Hoseok nods, and you begin your trail of questions.
***
His mind stays in the same state. His memories have gone astray, slipping through into fingers and forever gone.
Yet, Hoseok strains. He refuses to allow the non-existence of them to continue to plague him, attempting to pick up from the pieces he’s left with.
But the efforts aren’t only coming from him.
You present new information to him, replacing what he had once lost. You bring various photographs, get him familiar with names and places, picking up his scattered bits one by one to make him whole again.
It’s incredibly hard. Hoseok gets frustrated, one too many times. But you stay with him, ushering him to understand who the people in the photographs are, and understand why their relationship was so integral to him. You help him understand a version of himself he barely knows existed, giving him reassurance and encouraging words.
He learns to appreciate you, a sentiment he previously didn’t really quite share with your superior. And it might help that he finds you a tad bit endearing at times.
“Y/N.”
“Mm?” You look up from your clipboard, pinning the remaining photos to it.
“I think…” He squints. “I think your coat is upside down...”
“Is it?” You blink wide-eyed, setting your board down before twisting and turning, attempting to catch a glance at the back.
Sure enough, a tag sticks out, much to your own horror.
“Oh no–” he watches as you get up, hurriedly attempting to flick it off your shoulders. A chuckle escapes him at your baffled expression, holding the coat up in your hands several times before finally understanding to revert it.
You freeze all together, impassibly staring at him. His voice subsides, eyes catching on your gaze.
“What?”
“Oh.” You shake your head, flushing. “It’s nothing.”
You awkwardly clear your throat, throwing the coat back properly onto your shoulders and slipping in next to him. Your cheeks still burn, something that has the corner of Hoseok’s mouth curling up.
“We should really get back to–”
“Do you like coming here, Y/N?”
“Huh?” You ponder, observing his features. Hoseok tilts his head, smile still evident. “O-Oh, I do. I want to see you get better, Hoseok.”
“And what about you?”
Your brows raise, “What about me?”
“What about…your life?” A soft smile curls on his lips, “It seems like you’ve seen everything about me, my memories, my thoughts….but I hardly know about you.”
Your mouth parts, but he continues, letting his mind go astray, “What your life is like, the kinds of memories you have….” He looks away avertedly. “If you have someone….”
Hoseok bites his bottom lip. He probably shouldn’t have let that last thought slip out of him. He knows you’re here to help, that you’re here to just simply ensure that he gets better with time. But he can’t help but feel close to you. Can’t admit that he looks forward to your visits, that you make him feel comfortable when he’s been in a state of imbalance for so long. That you make him feel alive again, a feeling he can hardly remember.
He feels close to you, but it's something that makes you crumble.
Sheer dread encompasses your features, and Hoseok feels a deep ache in the middle of his chest.
“I-I don’t….” You avert your eyes, voice low, “Relationships don’t always work out for me.”
Hoseok’s eyes widen, “As for my life, it’s nothing too interesting.” You mention with a mutter. “I just started working here recently with Dr. Choi, after working in an office for a year.”
Hoseok hums, processing your words. But you raise your clipboard, moving on to asking him another question.
All Hoseok can do is answer you as usual, but he doesn’t notice the deep crack in your demeanour.
You’re gone.
The days pass by, and his door remains wide open. Save for the nurses occasionally checking in on his vitals and replenishing his IV, there are no traces of you and it makes his heart sink to his stomach.
He shouldn’t have asked you those questions, shouldn’t have prepositioned about your life. You, first and foremost, were here to do your job and Hoseok internally curses at himself for forgetting about it, wondering what you could possibly think of him now.
There’s a soft knock at the door and he instantly peers up, heart racing. However, disappointment washes over him when it’s not your familiar smile greeting him.
A tall man stands at the door, a white doctor’s coat thrown over his shoulders and a clipboard in hand. Hoseok recognizes his stern look, eyes flicking over to his name badge that reads ‘Dr. Choi’.
“Jung Hoseok.” He states, scribbling down on his papers before looking up with intent. “I’m here to assess your condition.”
Hoseok nods, having gone through this countless times. The man asks him questions pertaining to his memory, making him feel more interrogated than anything else, and then for any updates, before glancing at his treatment plan and leaving.
“The amnesia is still present, yes? With no significant changes?” Hoseok nods, the man not even glancing at him once. “Your treatment is focusing more on retaining information. How is that coming along?”
“It’s coming along good…” His mind flashes to you, chest tightening. “Your assistant has been helping me a lot.”
The man hums, merely going over a checklist before him. “Any newly developed symptoms?”
“No.”
He hums again “I’ll continue to monitor your condition. The treatment plan seems to be working in accordance.” He looks up for the first time. “Yungwon will come in tomorrow for you.”
“Yungwon?” Hoseok questions, a deep furrow to his brows “What about Y/N?”
“Y/N?” He nods. “Were you not informed?”
“Informed of what?”
Dr. Choi deeply exhales.
“Y/N has resigned. She is no longer working underneath me anymore.”
***
The news has hit Hoseok like a ton of bricks.
No information. No way of telling him yourself. No presence of you.
You had left without giving him a mere goodbye. Simply left him on his own as if he wasn’t your sole target of focus for the last couple of weeks.
You had disappeared. Leaving him in the dark once again.
The days pass by and Hoseok is introduced to the man named Yungwon. He’s placed in the misfortune circumstance of having someone continuously probe at him again, except this time, he’s much more inclined not to let them in, even as the man continuously insists.
Hoseok has always been regretful of not being able to remember. But now, now he’s just tired of trying to.
There’s a soft knock at the door.
Hoseok looks up sluggishly, half-expecting either Dr. Choi or Yungwon to pop up with inquiries and questions for him, but the air leaves his lungs completely when he's face to face with you, surprise evident in your eyes.
“Y/N.” He calls out, scrambling up immediately. This time you’re dressed in casual clothes and although with no added white coat, there’s still a clipboard still in your hands.
It takes a minute for you to find your voice. “Yungwon’s not here…?”
Hoseok blinks, caught off guard. You glance around, before downcasting your gaze. “I should go find him…he needs these.”
“Y/N.” Hoseok calls out again, a bit more desperate and he notices how you pick up on it immediately.
You finally stop in your tracks, looking at him properly. Hoseok looks the same after all this time, but the pure anguish in his eyes makes your stomach churn.
“You left.” He states heavily. “You didn’t say anything to me, not even a goodbye.” His voice trembles, a lone tear slipping down his eyes. “Am I so undeserving of that too now?”
It’s all mixed in together – his hurt, his anger. How much he wants to lash out, but instead crumbles.
Hoseok’s eyes widen when there’s a pair of arms encircling around him, hugging him tightly. He is shocked to the core when your clipboard is abandoned against his bed, thick tears spilling from your eyes as your form trembles.
Your notes are sprawled upwards, laid open to his observant eyes which only grow in size.
Hoseok barely has a chance to react when you’re already pulling back, frantically wiping your tears away. He can only watch when you grab your clipboard again, heading towards the door.
“Wait! Y/N!” He loudly pleads, but you keep moving forward, not looking back once.
His heart is racing, pounding against his ears. His line of vision was greeted to all the photographs you had used in his session – except there was one that he never saw, one you never were able to use.
It was a photograph of you in his arms, a bright smile on your lips as he kissed your cheek.
You reach the door and Hoseok attempts to find the IV on his arm, ready to wrench it off. But you are halted suddenly, by the voice of one of the nurses that spots you by the door.
“Oh, Mrs. Jung!”
Hoseok’s blood freezes and he watches as the surprise floods your features, form turning frantic. Your eyes avert around, dismay enveloping them when they make apprehensive contact with his own, and he sees it all.
Your gazes were always tender, your words always comforting. You felt so familiar, making him forget all about his repressed memories. But amongst all this, you also left out one crucial fact.
You had never told him your last name.
He watches in horror as the corners of your mouth curl, contrasted with the sheer anguish in your eyes. There’s a crack within your demeanour and he can’t unsee it anymore.
You leave before Hoseok can see the fresh tears sliding down your cheeks.
#hoseok fanfic#bts hoseok fanfic#hoseok angst#hoseok amnesia au#jhope fanfic#bts jhope fanfic#bts jhope angst#jhope angst#jung hoseok#bts jung hoseok#bts amnesia au#bts imagines#bts scenarios#bts angst
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Name: Ghost Hunting AU (doesn't have a name yet)
Ships: Namgi (Namjoon/Yoongi), 2seokkook (Hoseok/Seokjin/Jungkook) + side Vmin (Taehyung/Jimin) - BTS
Rating: Explicit
Category: M/M
Wordcount: TBD (so far ~16k posted but big writing thing it's from is 165k+)
Type: Twitter Thread AU (posting scenes as separate threads and adding information to the side with questions and also has some interactions with readers for suggestions or answering questions!)
Tags: crack, fluff, smut, angst, friends to lovers, fuckbuddies, fuckbuddies to lovers, strangers to friends to lovers, ghost hunting AU, survival horror (no one dies though), ghosts, pining, literal sleeping together, hurt/comfort, injuries, youtuber!JK (and youtubers!BTS after a while), near death experiences, trauma, healing, exorcisms, all the fun ghost stuff and more!
Warnings: Main one is Graphic Depiction of Violence as well as trauma responses. Can find more TWs and CWs on this post.
Summary:
Namjoon and Yoongi used to have a ghost hunting channel. Due to an event that neither want to ever talk about again, they leave everything behind and vow to never get back into ghost hunting again.
Years later, they break that promise to find out the truth about what happened back then.
[This is also based on the game phasmophobia! You do not really need to know anything about the game, but if you do, it adds a little plus. I also post information about the game and how it interacts with the AU, as well as other worldbuilding stuff, info on the characters and more here! Oh, and here's the thread with just the story threads. I also posted a pre-story 2seok smut for this AU on AO3 and will post more smuts from this universe on AO3 probably.]
#ao3#ao3 fanfic#ao3 tags#ao3fic#bts ao3#bts fic#bts fanfic#bts yoongi#bts yoongi fanfic#bts fanfiction#bts jhope#bts#bts agust d#bts agust d fanfic#bts hobi#bts hobi fanfic#bts hoseok#bts hoseok fanfic#bts j hope#bts jeongguk#bts jhope fanfic#bts jimin#bts jimin fanfic#bts jin#bts jin fanfic#bts jungkook#bts jungkook fanfic#bts namjoon#bts namjoon fanfic#bts ot7
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Tangled Mess: To-Go Food
Summary: Yoongi gets a concerned text from Taehyung and goes over to comfort Jungkook
Paring: Hoseok x GN Reader, Yoongi x Jungkook
Genre: Soulmate AU, Grad School AU, Young Professional AU, Angst, Fluff
Warnings: A Breakup
Word Count: 548 words
A/N: Including this part, only 3 parts left! I so enjoyed writing this!590
Tag List: @@daisies-and-dandelionpuffs
Part 10 << Masterlist >> Next Part
Grabbing the packet of to-go food, Yoongi started making his way to Jungkook’s apartment. He’d not texted saying he was available to spend time together, but Taehyung did text saying that Jungkook was upset and wouldn’t say why. Tonight might’ve been Yoongi’s usual writing night, but Jungkook was more important. Jungkook meant the world to Yoongi. His heart ached to know that Jungkook was hurting and he had to do something to be there for Jungkook.
As Yoongi unlocked the apartment door, he saw Taehyung and Jieun watching a show in the living space. Taehyung said that Jungkook refused to tell them anything and asked to be alone and so now the two were stuck trying to pretend everything was normal as Jungkook hid in his room. Their worried faces broke Yoongi’s heart even more and what utterly shattered it was a quiet sob that Yoongi heard just barely over the show.
Yoongi didn’t open or knock on Jungkook’s door though. He hesitated. Jungkook asked to be alone and Yoongi would be making so many assumptions if he just asked to enter and be there for Jungkook. In their many years together, Yoongi hasn’t had the chance to offer this sort of support to Jungkook before. Sure they’ve been sad and stressed together and occasionally talked about what was bothering them with the distance that talking in public spaces a few days out adds… they’ve never supported each other in the height of their emotions though. Jungkook asked to be alone.
With a sigh, Yoongi set the bag of lamb skewers, kimchi jeon, and fried chicken by Jungkook’s closed door and pulled out his phone. Sitting on the floor by the door, he sent a text. He tried to keep it short because reading texts while crying is really hard but Yoongi struggled. How can he possibly list out all the many options that Jungkook has without it being a long and rambling text?!?
[Jungkook]: Can you get me tissues as well?
Yoongi scrambled up, rushing to the bathroom and grabbing the box of tissues. By the time he got back, the food was gone and the door just slightly open.
“Jungkook-ah? Can I come in?”
There was a small hum and Yoongi entered, closing the door behind him. They settled on Jungkook’s bed and Jungkook held out a lamb skewer for Yoongi to eat, his eyes red and face blotchy. Yoongi didn’t comment on it, taking the lamb skewer, tapping the other one Jungkook held to do an obligatory cheers and dug in.
They ate in silence, small sniffles coming from Jungkook between each bite of food. Yoongi was impressed that Jungkook didn’t claim it was from spices but he wouldn’t share that. Jungkook was in control of the situation he’d decide when to talk.
After the food was gone, Jungkook pointed at Yoongi’s lap with the biggest puppy dog eyes Yoongi had ever seen. Yoongi nodded, not quite sure what Jungkook was planning on doing aside from it involving physical contact. He wasn’t really in the mood for it, but his want to comfort Jungkook was more important than his slightly discomfort at being touched right now.
Jungkook sighed and laid his head on Yoongi’s lap, his hands wrapping tightly around Yoongi’s waist. Yoongi started massaging his scalp, trying to make sure Jungkook was able to relax in his hold. The two stayed there for an hour or so, Yoongi’s legs becoming numb and achy. Sleep eventually took Jungkook and after Yoongi readjusted slightly, sleep took him too.
#wkcnet#bts fanfic#bts fan fic#bts fan fiction#bts fanfiction#bts yoonkook#bts yoongi#bts suga#bts jungkook#bts hoseok#bts jhope#bts jhope fanfic#bts mxr#bts mxm#bts soulmate au#bts angst#bts fluff#series: tangled mess
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Chapter 6
Reader’s POV
I woke with a start. Groggy from sleep, I slowly remembered where I was. I first thought I had been dreaming, but the man next to me was no dream. He was softly snoring beside me; one hand thrown casually over his head. He was beautiful. I couldn’t believe I was with him.
I looked at the clock and thought about Jimin's note. I had no idea where the café he mentioned was so, if I was going to make it there by 7am, I needed to hurry. Carefully unwinding myself from Hoseok’s embrace, I tiptoed as quietly as I could. I threw on my black accessories from the previous evening. It was a little disturbing how I already instinctively knew to disguise myself. Was this something I could picture myself doing on a regular basis just to spend time with someone I cared about?
I worried he might wake up while I was gone, so I left a note. Getting coffee seemed like a good excuse to be out this early. I looked up the directions for the café on my phone. It wasn’t too far away, so I could walk there and still make it on time. I pulled my hat low and marched down the sidewalk.
The café was practically deserted. An older gentleman stood at the counter; another was sitting by the window reading a newspaper. I looked around nervously.
“Hello,” a voice greeted me. I jumped, startled by his sudden proximity. “I’m glad you came,” Jimin smiled. He ushered me to a table in the far back.
“I hope you don’t think this too forward of me,” he began. His voice was smooth, and he enunciated each word carefully. “To be completely honest, I asked you here because my friend was quite taken with you after last night.”
Was he talking about Hoseok? It was unbelievable, the friendship that these men must have that they would notice and interpret such tiny cues in each other. It was endearing that they cared so much for each other. I was jealous of their relationship.
“Your friend?” I asked warily.
“Yes,” he smiled. “Would you consider meeting him for dinner? I admit, I was a little presumptuous and have already made the arrangements. The only thing left is for you to say yes.”
Completely innocent, yet deceptively sneaky, I found it impossible to say no to his smile. I hadn’t really considered saying no. The excitement at possibly seeing Hoseok again was too much for me to resist.
“Wonderful!” he exclaimed. "The driver will pick you up at seven.” He asked for my number then politely excused himself.
While I was waiting for our coffee, my phone vibrated. It was a number I didn’t recognize, but something nudged me to answer it.
“I hope I didn’t wake you,” the voice on the other end said. “This is Namjoon.”
I gasped. “Uh…hello,” I mumbled.
He chuckled. “I found your number in the front of the notebook, and I wanted to call you. I read your letters last night and I wanted to know if you’d like to come to the company and talk.”
“Oh, wow. I never expected anything like this to happen. Not in a million years. I would like that. If it’s really okay. I just mean, I know you guys have sort of a…crazy…life. I don’t want to do anything that might cause problems for you.” I was rambling.
“It's absolutely okay,” he assured me. “Please, don’t worry.”
I laughed. “I would be insane to say no.”
I walked quickly back to the hotel, hoping to get back before Hoseok woke up. I didn’t want to answer any questions about where I had been, and I didn’t want to lie either. The room was still dark. Setting the coffee down on the table, I was startled by a soft voice.
“I missed you,” Hoseok said stretching sleepily. He patted the bed. I had never seen anything cuter in my life.
“Coffee,” I smiled, handing him a cup. “I thought it would be less conspicuous for me to go out.”
“I’m sorry that everything has to be so complicated,” he frowned.
“It’s okay,” I lied. “I understand why it has to be this way.”
I couldn’t imagine what it must be like for them to have to hide so much of their lives. I forced a smile, hoping he would be happy again. I couldn’t stand seeing him upset. I was already dependent on his smile, like an addict, even though I knew this was going nowhere. I was going home soon and would never see him again. Leaving was going to be the hardest thing I would ever do.
“You’re wonderful,” he mused, interrupting my thoughts.
I blushed. If he only knew the real me. I wasn’t wonderful or special at all.
“I mean it,” he said softly, his hand cupping my cheek. His face was inches from mine, the sound of his quiet breathing the only thing I could hear. I tried to look away, but his hand was firm on my cheek. He moved toward me, then hesitated. Surprisingly, he was unsure of himself.
His tongue caressed his bottom lip as if in slow motion. With a dizzying intensity, his lips were on mine. Warmth flooded my cheeks, radiating down to meet the pounding of my heart. I tasted the bitterness of black coffee; the sweet citrus of his cologne overwhelmed my nostrils. My head met the pillows, the weight of his body now pressing into mine. How was I supposed to say no to the overwhelming desire racing through my veins? Where would I get strength to resist the irresistible.
“Stop,” I said, gently pushing him away. The devastation on his face was excruciating. He looked defeated.
“I’m so sorry,” he apologized. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“No, I’m sorry,” I teared up. “I just…I…”
Hoseok’s POV
I was mortified by my lack of control. The connection I felt with her had overpowered my common sense. I wanted to wipe the tears from her face, but I worried my brash actions would cause her to shrink away. I sat with my shoulders slumped, furious with myself. It was my fault that she was crying. I wished I could turn back time and stop myself from making her cry.
“It’s…just…” she hesitated. “I told you, I’m leaving in a few days to go home. And then I’m never going to see you again. I’m already more attached than I should be and when I have to leave…when I have to leave…it’s going to break my heart.”
“I don’t want you to leave,” I whispered, scared to say the words aloud. Hesitantly, I took her hand. “It would break my heart too.” She had no idea how attached to her I was already. The thought of her leaving was crushing.
“I have a life,” she responded. “I have to go home. I can’t just drop everything to stay here, no matter how much I might want to. And you have a life too. I’ve been crazy to think that I could ever be a part of that.”
I pulled her close to me and she didn’t resist. Wiping the tears from her face, I whispered, “Please, don’t cry. You’re too beautiful to cry." She chuckled. “Why would you think that you couldn’t be a part of my life?” I asked.
“Isn’t it obvious? You’re…you…and I’m nobody.”
I sat up, turning to face her. “You’re not a nobody,” I insisted.
“You don’t even know me,” she declared.
“No,” I said. “I don’t know you. But I want to know you. I want it more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time. I don’t know how it will work, but I want it to work. We can make it work.” I kissed her forehead and pulled her even closer. I knew in that moment that I was willing to do anything for this woman. It was at the same time terrifying and exhilarating.
My mind wondered to an imaginary world where she and I lay every night, our bodies intertwined, falling asleep in each other’s arms. The buzz of a cellphone drew me from that world. She unwound herself from my arms and handed me my phone.
“You should really check that,” she chuckled.
“Shit!” I blurted out. “It’s Namjoon.”
I apologized for missing his calls. I told him I had had a migraine and slept in and he told me about the afternoon meeting. Y/N had curled up on the couch. I planted my hands on either side of her shoulders.
“You look exhausted,” I murmured
She yawned. “I am a little sleepy.”
I smiled. “I have to go, but can I see you again?”
“Yes, you can.” she giggled.
“Why are you laughing?” I whined.
“Because this is too good to be true. I just can’t believe it.”
“Believe it,” I gushed, pecking on her cheek. “I’ll see you later.”
Yoongi’s POV
I couldn’t believe my eyes when I realized the woman we were meeting was Y/N. I glanced in Jimin’s direction; he was as shocked as I. He shrugged his shoulders. I couldn’t even look at her. Why was I like this?
Taehyung immediately hugged her, as if he’d known her for years. Hoseok was staring at her, and the look in his eyes seemed like more than simple admiration. I nudged Jimin.
“What’s up with Hoseok?” I whispered. He followed my line of sight. Hoseok was still staring and smiling.
“I’ll find out,” he asserted.
“We’re all really glad you could come this afternoon,” Namjoon started. “We don’t get many opportunities to sit down with fans and chat. After reading your notebook, it was important for us to be able to have that opportunity with you.”
Y/N tapped her toes on the floor and twisted her hands in her lap; probably trying to sooth the same anxiety I felt. Namjoon noticed too.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked her.
“A stiff drink?” she joked. I laughed out loud. She was witty and beautiful.
“I’m kidding,” she chuckled.
“I could always use a stiff drink,” Jimin agreed.
“We know,” Hoseok rolled his eyes.
My mind wandered back to his odd behavior, and I started watching him again. His eyes never strayed from Y/N for more than a few seconds. He followed her every move. She watched him too, but more discreetly. Something was going on between them. The thudding of my heart in my chest let me know that it wasn’t anything good. I shifted, leaning into Jimin, trying not to attract attention.
“Something’s up,” I whispered. “Look at Hoseok.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he breathed. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Namjoon gave me a stern look. I could shut up, but there was no way I could focus on anything but the disaster that my mind was already creating.
Hoseok’s POV
I smiled warmly at Y/N, hoping to help her relax. It was cute how she nervously intertwined her fingers in her lap, and when she awkwardly replied to Namjoon, I couldn’t help but giggle. She blushed and my heart melted. I had felt so much like myself with her, and I was eager to feel that freedom again. As soon as this meeting was over, I would make plans for tonight.
I was pleased that everyone seemed to like her. I knew Tae already did; that was a good start. I wanted to make sure that the others had a chance to realize how amazing she was. Before leaving, I made eye contact with her and smiled. I nodded my head slightly, hoping she would catch my meaning. I wanted to see her.
I excused myself and went into the hall to wait. A few minutes later, she came out. I pulled her close and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. I knew it was risky, but I couldn’t help myself. I grabbed her hand and led her down the hall behind me. Pulling her into an empty office, I closed the door behind us. I couldn’t wait any longer and tugged her close to me.
“I missed you,” I murmured into her ear. I could feel her smile against my cheek. She giggled as I kissed her neck, and I couldn’t help but laugh too. She made me so happy. I didn’t want to contain it.
“I want to see you again soon,” I breathed through quick kisses.
“Me too, but right now, you should go before someone misses you,” she scolded playfully.
I knew she was right, and I hated it. “Wait for my call.” I kissed her deeply. Reluctantly, I let her go. I headed to my studio to try and get some work done. I doubted that I would be able to focus, I was completely distracted by Y/N.
I had gotten little done when Namjoon called. I invited him to come by.
“Hey,” he greeted me, plopping down on the couch. There was something on his mind. “So…” he hesitated. “I saw you coming out of that empty office…and then I saw Y/N coming out. Is there something I’m missing? I thought you two just met?”
“Oh…” I grimaced. “I didn’t want you to find out this way. I’m sorry. We had a connection last night. I like her, and I want to get to know her better. I know what you’re going to say. It’s dangerous and what am I thinking, and…”
“HOSEOK!” he interrupted.
“What?” I sighed dejectedly.
“Are you happy?”
“Yes, more than I have been in a long time,” I replied quietly.
“Then I’m happy for you,” he smiled.
“Really?” I was shocked.
“I mean it. You deserve to be happy.”
“Thank you!” I said, jumping up to hug him.
#bts#bts jhope#bts suga#bts sope#bts jung hoseok#bts min yoongi#jung hoseok#min yoongi#fanfic#kpop fanfic#jhope#suga#bts fic#bts fanfic#bts jhope fanfic#bts suga fan fic#jhope fanfic#suga fanfic
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Favorites Fic Recs 5
Thank you to all the amazing writers <3
Kim Seokjin
Broken happy ever after (@taexual)
Of bears and bonds (@yoonia)
Switched (@i-am-baechu)
Scale (@shina913)
Kyoho (@jeonqkooks)
End of the line (@kookslastbutton)
Min Yoongi
Only for you (@beautifulfuckup99)
Fix you (@casuallyimagining)
The one that I adore (@gimmethatagustd)
Man of the year (@raplinesmoon)
Wishes (@i-am-baechu)
Set me free (@casuallyimagining)
Jung Hoseok
Flower (@readyplayerhobi)
Dinner plans cancelled (@souryoong)
Close call (@xjoonchildx)
Bloom (@7deadlysinsfics)
Kim Namjoon
My girl (@beautifulfuckup99)
Like couples do (@jinkookspencil)
Face sitting (@euphoricfilter)
B.S standards (@katnisspeetaprim)
Pregnancy insecurity (@katnisspeetaprim) NAMJOON
Park Jimin
Love Bug (@httpjeon)
Photograph (@i-am-baechu)
Wanna watch a sex tape (@gimmethatagustd)
Into you (@phenomenalgirl9)
Kim Taehyung
Still waters run deep (@btsmosphere)
Something blue (@moni-logues)
A human touch (@snackhobi)
Let love be enough (@jingabitch)
My tears ricochet (@augustbutwinter)
Goodbye (@jjksblackgf)
Wanna watch a sex tape (@gimmethatagustd)
That Irish barista (@i-am-baechu)
Race to your heart (@jjkeverlast)
Loverboy (@kookslastbutton)
Jeon Jungkook
Do it right (@rerefundslocals)
Gold is dull (@kookluvre) -> (hasn't been updated in awhile but def worth the read)
Best friends (@trivia-yandere)
Need you (@archivedkookie)
Across a crowded room (@monimonimoon)
A little reminder (@beautifulfuckup99)
University superstar (@jungkookstatts)
But we loved too young (@jl-micasea-fics)
Skirt chasers (@1kook)
Big enough for both of us (@btsmosphere)
Bodywork (@angeljeonjk97)
Deep in the woods (@angllicjk)
Angel in the marble (@venusjeon)
Was it better (@gyukookswhore)
97 (@rrjkive)
Lemon sherbet (@extravaguk)
The m-word (@hansolmates)
Head over skates (@mercurygguk)
Gun (@kooeater)
Café o lay (@taesspark)
Guilty pleasures (@kookslastbutton)
Purple car (@fruitmins)
Until my last breath (@iamjungkooked)
Don't want your sympathy (@sketchguk)
Couples shoot (@katnisspeetaprim)
What we need (@jungkookstatts)
Praising (@neo-percs)
Show you what devotion is (@euaphoric)
Pluto (@katnisspeetaprim)
Cherry candy (@bonny-kookoo)
OT7
Before I leave you (@hollyhomburg)
#bts namjoon#bts x reader#fanfic#fanfic rec#bts fanfic#writing#bts taehyung#bts jhope#bts#bts jungkook#bts jimin#seokjin#jimin#taehyung#namjoon#bangtan#bts army#min yoongi#bts jung hoseok
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Stay Alive Masterlist
" Came like a Miracle, Look like a miracle, Just like Miracle, Those few words...."
Synopsis: When you started working at a pharmaceutical company, you didn’t realize where it was your life was heading. After getting a patient mix up, you meet seven men who would didn’t seem to want any other nurse that wasn’t you. When you start to know them, you notice things that made you question if they were really human. No matter what excuse they would give though, you would always go home with a heavy heart. The day the truth is revealed to you, things take a turn for the worst.
Pairings: BTS poly!ot7 x Reader
Genre: Mystical Creatures AU, Fluff, Romance, Angst, Fantasy
Warnings: Smut in future chapters, toxic work environment, abuse
Taglist: I have decided to write smut chapters. However it’s just one per member. Maybe some things here and there. With that being said. I will not have a taglist on those chapters for fear of having minors tagged. My books are mostly for a general audience because smut isn’t my main writing. However with the very small number of chapters I will probably do, it’s best to not tag anyone. I understand some of you have ages but I don’t want to struggle with picking out each adult blog. Thank you for understanding.
A/N
(1) -- (2) -- (3) -- (4) -- (5)
(6) -- (7) -- (8) -- (9) -- (10)
(11) -- (12) -- (13) -- (14) -- (15)
(16) -- (17) -- (18) -- (19) -- (20)
(21) -- (22) -- (23) -- (24) -- (25)
(26) -- (27) -- (28) -- (29) -- (30)
(31) -- (32) -- (33) -- (34) -- (35)
(36) -- (37) -- (38) -- (39) -- (40)
(41) -- (42) -- (43) -- (44) -- (45)
(46) -- (47) -- (48) -- (49) -- (50)
" Those few words that saved me I'll be by your side after many nights..."
Taglist is officially closed!
#bts fanfic#bts army#bts#bts jungkook#bts jimin#bangtan#bangtan sonyeondan#run bts#namjoon#jimin#taehyung#bts v#bts jin#yoongi#hoseok#jhope#hobi#jung hoseok#bts namjoon#bts jung hoseok#bts jungguk#kpop fanfic#jungkook#bts jhope#bts hobi#park jimin#jimin bts#bts taehyung#bts imagines#bts smut
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CECE'S FIC RECS
BTS
Updated: April 24th, 2024
Fic Rec list 2
Namjoon
TRY AGAIN | jiminscockr1ng
Tonight We're Dancing | unique-high
"Cry for me" | prettyprincejk
Cleaning Day | gojosnympho
About Love | jjkeverlast
Closer | joon4eva
Between the pages | hwanghyunjinenthusiast
Cross Your Mind | dearlyjoonie
Lifeline | downbad4yoongi
Late Night Texting | hobistyles
My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold | daechwitatamic
Sundress | cheolhub
Doom boy | soft4gguk
Sexy Feeling | btsrunmylife
My Goddess | purpleyoonn
Quid Pro Quo | sopejinsunflower
Dream Girl | nmjoon-n
Rival Academia | aseaofyoongi
Cat and Mouse | aaagustd
Too sweet | teenytinyjimin
Jin
Payment Plan | trivia-yandere
Oh Baby | k00sblogger
Yoongi
Angel | sailoryooons
So it Goes | prodagustd
A New Rhythm | sluttywoozi
Three tangerines | kithtaehyung
Wife | mggsv
Jhope
"Missed you." | dilfhoseokie
Daisies | jeonaachu
Jimin
Disease | piedinthepiper
Camping | swanlakebaby
Missing You | swanlakebaby
My girl | k00sblogger
Daddy's Home | lovecoree
Taehyung
His Special Secret | kooktrash
Craving You | hoseokhasmyheartxx
The End is You and I | yonkimink
Distraction | lovecoree
Jungkook
Malibu | joonberriess
Seven | joonberriess
All mine | tanniefm
Side B!tch...? | bubbbii
Sunkissin' | peachyjeonss
Wild Thoughts | sxtaep
On and Off | gashinabts
The Broken Vow | lleldey
Blackout | jjungxkook
Long Way Home | sparklingchim
Over The Odds | jungk0oksthighs
Between Roommates | kooktrash
Shut Up and Kiss Me | ahgasegotarmy116
I miss you, I'm sorry | teenytinyjimin
Let me take care of you | ahgasegotarmy116
Nothing Serious | kooqitas
OT7/Multiple Members
Boyfriend for Hire | remedyx
All Bite, No Bark | spiderlilyserendipity
3 strikes | mapofthesea
Wolves in Sheep's Clothing | peachypinkgloss
Agains The Odds | jungk0oksthighs
WWE
Jey Uso
White Lies | tribalhoochie
We Ain't Going to Bed Angry | rays-hunter01
She My Bestfriend, Yeah We Ain't a Couple | kyleoreillylover
Mr. Right Now | femdisa
Massage. | miyuhpapayuh
Chasin' | southerngirl41
Warm | msbigredmachine
This is Cinema | romanreignseater
Baecation | tribalhoochie
Jimmy Uso
I Hate You Too | femdisa
Dressing Room. | miyuhpapayuh
Beauty Calls | aintnorainbows
Pull Up | harmshake
It's A Scream, Baby | theninthwonder
Stay By My Side | aalyssah
Tension | visionarymode
Permission | theninthwonder
Can you focus on me? | pr0wlerpunk
Roman Reigns
Lingerie Fun | strawberry-milku
Can't Handle It | visionarymode
Under His Spell | southerngirl41
Forgotten Kisses | uceyreiignss
Michael B. Jordan/Erik Killmonger
I get high, high, high | cocoa-puffs
Just Friends | cocoa-puffs
Freshout | cocoa-puffs
Domesticity | cocoa-puffs
In the Morning | nahimjustfeelingit-writes
Office Bae Series pt. 1, pt. 2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6 | nahimjustfeelingit-writes
Neighbors to Lovers pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4| nahimjustfeelingit-writes
#bts smut#jimmy uso smut#jey uso smut#bts x black reader#ot7 x reader#namjoon x you#wwe#fic rec#bts fanfic#roman reigns#jungkook fic#yoongi x reader#hoseok x reader#jin x reader#jungkook x reader#taehyung x reader#jimin x reader#namjoon x reader#jey uso#jimmy uso#michael b jordan#erik killmonger#killmonger smut#killmonger fanfiction#namjoon smut#seokjin smut#min yoongi smut#jhope smut#taehyung smut#jimin smut
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BTS FIC RECS
a list of BTS fics I really enjoyed! pls go and show these amazing authors some love <3 if there wasn't a summary I just included a little blurb from the fics! and anything with * are my own thoughts. now onto the recs ↓
KIM SEOKJIN
TURN BACK TIME - @raplinesmoon
oneshot, fluff, angst, smut
After total humiliation at his middle school baseball try outs, Kim Seokjin wants nothing more than for his awkward years to fade away until he’s thirty. Cue a magic baseball glove, and his wish is finally granted. Seokjin suddenly wakes up seventeen years later, now the star pitcher of the team he’d always dreamed of playing for. Confused and overwhelmed at the prospect of the new life waiting for him, he turns to the only person who seems to understand him — you. Will Seokjin learn what it truly means to be thirty, flirty, and thriving? Or will he find himself wishing he could turn back time?
WITH YOU - @yoonpobs
oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, ceo, marriage, divorce, parent
marrying your childhood best friend was not the love story that most painted it to be. you knew that better than anyone else.
UNTITLED - @eoieopda
drabble, fluff, est relationship, parent
"I loved the dad joon and dad yoongs drabble 🥹 it's freaking cuteeee omg jade 😭😭 *whisper* can you do dad-to-be or dad seokjin too please...? I'm on a seokjin missing hour 🥹 thank you ❤️❤️"
LONG TERM COUPLE - @taetaespeaches
series, fluff, angst, idol au, strangers to lovers
long term couple masterlist *the whole long term couple series is honestly one of my faves😭*
MIN YOONGI
LONG TERM COUPLE - @/taetaespeaches
series, fluff, angst, smut, idol au, strangers to lovers
long term couple masterlist
NO MORE - @gyukult
series (two-shot), angst, smut, fluff, unrequited love, college, secret relationship
yoongi doesn’t like your consistent pining, and one day, after finally coming to terms that he will never reciprocate any feelings back, you give up. yet, for some reason, yoongi is the one who can’t come to terms with the consequences of when he says ‘no more.’
VOWS AKA 10 WAYS TO WIN YOUR HUSBAND'S HEART - @hamsterclaw
series, fluff, angst, smut, arranged marriage, est relationship
You’ve been in your arranged marriage with Yoongi for five years, and he’s never once retaliated for anything you’ve done to him. One day you realise you’ve lost your appetite for provoking him, and you set about trying to win his heart instead.
CARE FOR YOU - @archivedkookie
oneshot, fluff, est relationship, marriage, doctor au
Yoongi will always care for you, no matter what.
BABY, YOU CAN DRIVE MY CAR PT.2- @jungshookz
oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, mechanic au
welcome to min mechanics - what can i do for you today, doll?
THE TROPHY WIFE - @taeyohonic
oneshot, fluff, angst, est relationship, idol au
the proposal doesn’t go as planned
BACK-BURNER - @/yoonpobs
series, angst, fluff, smut, sisters best friend, friends to lovers
sometimes you felt like you were the back-burner of a two-decade-long friendship. how could you ever compete?
VEGAS BABY - @chimivx
series, fluff, angst, smut, idol au, parent au
A peek into the life of an Idol and his soulmate tackling the obstacles that come with having a surprise in the whirlwind of a world they live in. { This link takes you to the full collection of works. }
JUNG HOSEOK
LONG TERM COUPLE - @/taetaespeaches
series, fluff, angst, smut, strangers to lovers, idol au
long term couple masterlist
ONE NIGHT LIGHT - @bts-reveries
series, fluff, angst, smau, parent
Hoseok has been living his very own version of a perfect life. Unlike some of his best friends, this doesn’t include a happy marriage, adorable kids, or even a stable relationship. All he would ever need was music, dancing, and of course, the parties. Now what happens when he gets a wake up call from reality when the door rings approximately six years after his last one night stand?
AT THE CONCERT - @katnisspeetaprim
oneshot, fluff, est relationship, idol au
Hoseok was quite insistent that you come to this show in particular...
KIM NAMJOON
LONG TERM COUPLE - @/taetaespeaches
series, fluff, angst, smut, strangers to lovers, idol au
long term couple masterlist
UNTITLED - @/eoieopda
drabble, fluff, est relationship, parent au
dad!joon
ALONE ON YOUR BIRTHDAY - @monimonimoon
drabble, angst, est relationship
Namjoon promised he would be there on your birthday, he wouldn't be working, he certainly wouldn't work late. Sometimes, increasingly frequently, he broke his promises.
ME AND YOUR MAMA - @joonberriess
oneshot, smut, fluff, est relationship
you like to remember both what life before the little one was and after with your loving boyfriend namjoon.
PARK JIMIN
ROCK BOTTOM - @jkbabiey
oneshot, angst, fluff, smut, marriage, idol au
When, in a four-year marriage, you get to the point where you question its worth, you know that’s your rock bottom. How many I’m sorry’s will you handle? How many times are too many times?
MASK ON - @herherteartear
series, fluff, angst, smau, single dad au
blind dates are never the move.. unless your best friend is vouching for the person you're going on a date with. it couldn't be that bad, right? wrong. now you're in love with a man who has a big secret. a big secret with chubby cheeks and pig tails.
LONG TERM COUPLE - @/taetaespeaches
series, fluff, angst, smut, friends to lovers, idol au
long term couple masterlist
KIM TAEHYUNG
MINI ME - @bts-reveries
series, fluff, angst, smau, strangers to lovers, parent au, artist au
Unlike his best friends, Taehyung was young, wild, and free. No relationship, no babies, no responsibilities. Well he had his puppy, but that was it. Taehyung watched his nieces and nephews grow up and it was no secret that he too wanted to have one of his own someday. So what will happen when he finally finds someone that matches his personality (and himself) well?
WELCOME TO MY YOUTUBE CHANNEL - @tteokggukk
oneshot, fluff, idol au, strangers to lovers
"He’s been watching your videos for quite some time now, ever since your channel started rising. Art was one of his major interests and he absolutely adored the way you made your videos with the calming, ASMR-like sound of mixing paint and how you skillfully glided the brush across the canvas. On days when he found himself tired and in need of a quick way to relax, he’d subconsciously find himself binge watching videos on your channel— even repeating several videos since you were only starting. He found it fascinating, but also because he found you interesting."
ONE OF THE BOYS - @littlemisskookie
oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, childhood friends, best friends to lovers, high school
All your life you wanted only one thing- for Kim Taehyung to like you. You did everything you could to make this happen, from picking up his hobbies and rejecting anything feminine. But who do you start to become when you stop trying to impress him?
LONG TERM COUPLE - @/taetaespeaches
series, fluff, angst, smut, (best)friends to lovers, idol au
long term couple masterlist
"I WISH ID NEVER MET YOU" " I HATE YOU" - @v-hope
oneshot, angst, idol au
"pls do 12 and 27 with tae (angst)"
JEON JUNGKOOK
UNTITLED - @onlyswan
oneshot, fluff, angst, est relationship, idol au
in which you make jungkook’s world spin and you tend to… make him a little too dizzy.
ME AND MY HUSBAND - @gashinabts
oneshot, fluff, angst, smut, est relationship, parent au
You don’t want to brag but you have the world’s greatest husband. Jungkook packs your lunch everyday, and makes cute shapes with the fruit. There’s even a little note, ‘ Have a good day at work, Baby! <3’. Smiling to yourself you place the note down, and eat your food with content.
17 GOING ON 27 - @hansolmates
oneshot, fluff, angst, photographer au
one second, you’re sobbing at prom because the most popular guy in school dumps you due to your relationship being a little prank to break your heart. the next? you’re a creative editor at Ego, the hottest young adult fashion magazine. as you try to figure out what’s the deal with this sudden time skip into adulthood, you come across relationships and friendships that are made to be cherished and made to be broken.
HOME - @bonny-kookoo
oneshot, fluff, smut, idol au
Singing about love without having experienced it properly before, Jungkook felt a little foolish- as if he didn’t quite have the rights to the words he’d put out there for others to listen to. But Jungkook also loved to learn new things; and loving you was one of them.
LONG TERM COUPLE - @/taetaespeaches
series, fluff, angst, smut, strangers to lovers, idol au
long term couple masterlist
want recs for other groups? check out my navigation → here!
#fic lists📃#bts fanfic#bts fic rec#bts fluff#bts angst#bts smut#bts smau#bts friends to lovers#bts strangers to lovers#bts dad au#bts idol au#bts established relationship au#bts parent au#bts arranged marriage au#bts doctor au#jin fic recs#yoongi fic recs#jhope fic recs#jimin fic recs#taehyung fic recs#jungkook fic recs
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Make Me
Pairing: dom!Hoseok/sub/brat!f!Reader
Genre: Oneshot; hard smut; platonic(?) fluff; BDSM lifestyle; friends to fwb to?; canon-compliant (idolAU)
Summary: You've been friends with Hobi for years, and he's your comfort zone - but when he gets wind of a dark secret you drunkenly let slip, things between you take a sudden extreme change.
Warnings: 18+ (minors, dni); hardcore BDSM themes/relationships; full consent and safe-words ❤; Hobi is a hard dom (and such a good one); MC is a brat (mostly); dominance and submission; elements of primal play if you squint; mentions of wet dreams and sexual fantasies; sexual degradation (deg-play use of the word "b*tch"); mentions of MC's hair and hair pulling in a domination context; rough physical contact in a sexual context (manhandling); mentions of drinking; kink-outing; Jimin is a menace but also the absolute best; Hobi in the studio 👀; wrestling (sexual context); spanking (sexual context); p*ssy-stepping; p*ssy slapping; sexual frustration; some initial shame and embarrassment (reader needs to work some things out); reader tries to run away from herself a bit; temporary ghosting; working through new desires and feelings; dirty dancing; ALL the communication; establishment of sexual roles/partnership; talk about birth control and protection; Hobi curses a LOT during domination scenes; leash/collar play; oral sex (male receiving); throat fucking; Hobi slaps Reader's tongue with his c*ck; cum swallowing; aftercare; restraint play (sex swing, heehee 😈); manual clitoral stimulation; teasing; unprotected vaginal sex (reader is on birth control & previously consents); female orgasm from vaginal penetration; very brief implication of a possible brush with subspace.
Word Count: ~16,000 (Double its originally intended length, oops 🙈)
Author's note: HOLY HECK IT'S FINALLY HERE. When I say I had the time of my life writing this...like, wow. I was already under Hobi's spell, but now I am OFFICIALLY down in the worst way. This fic and it's premise were completely out of my comfort zone, but I couldn't be happier that I ventured into this world, because the research alone has given me so much respect for the BDSM community, and specifically the dom/sub relationship. I hope I did as much justice to that very special dynamic as possible between these two characters (with whom I have deeply fallen in love). If you read this, I hope so very much that you enjoy it!
If no one has told you yet today, you are loved and worthy of love! 🧜♀️💜
Acknowledgements: The biggest of thanks to @orchidyoonkook who not only beta-read this fic multiple times, and is practically the voice of this Jimin, but also gave me so much wonderful insight into the BDSM communicty from that big sexy brain of hers (which contains an incredible amount of knowledge about so many things, let me tell you!). But most of all, she gave me the encouragement I needed to get this out of my imagination and onto the page, even when I was doubting myself the most. Yoons, I love you! Couldn't have done it without you. 💕
"What?" Hoseok's wide grin stretches further as he regards your flustered face with giddy anticipation.
You groan into your hands, willing the cushions of your friend's leather couch to swallow you like quicksand.
"Fucking Jimin - I'll kill him!" you whine, pressing your fingers to your temples, and keeping your eyes glued to the hardwood of the studio floor.
The rapper laughs as he swivels his baseball cap to sit backwards on his fluffy brown mop of hair.
"Come on! Tell me!" he insists, sprawling back in his rolling chair, the tips of his fingers touching deviously together as he regards you with twinkling eyes.
You sneak a glance at him before sighing defeatedly, which only earns another chortle of laughter from across the room.
Park fucking Jimin. You really were going to kill him. Too many bottles of soju the week prior saw you blacking out at the BTS member's pad, the one he shared with your mutual friend, Jung Hoseok. You woke up the next day, memories of the night before obscure concepts of debauchery merely alluded to by the taste of bile and the dull cranial throb of dehydration. When Jimin rather gleefully handed you, along with an iced americano, one of the booze-fueled revelations you had let slip, you begged and pleaded with him to erase the memory from his brain...or at the very least to take it to his grave. He made no such promises. And now, you are facing the man of the hour - the subject of your divulgement - who had apparently been informed that you harbored certain strong opinions in his regard. Humiliating.
You flick mildly irritated eyes back up to your friend who waggles his brows in a way that makes you want to crack a smile and sock him at the same time.
"Before I say anything, I want to know exactly what he told you," you demand, crossing your arms defensively, no cracked smile to be found.
He rolls his eyes up to the corner of the ceiling in recollection.
"He just said that you had gotten wasted and admitted something kinky...about me."
At the last two words he drops his voice dramatically low and pins you with a grin that is sickeningly predatory. Your pulse begins to hammer and you have to remind yourself that you are, in fact, capable of speech.
Fuck, you think to yourself, it's happening.
You can feel sweat starting to bead at your hairline. Maybe if you get it out there, just say it aloud, it will lose its power. Maybe the spell will be broken. Maybe he will laugh and you will laugh and you'll order lunch and keep irritating him while he's supposed to be working on a track. You're both adults, right? You whoosh out a breath.
Hobi is still looking at you, his bottom lip pushing up and the corners of his mouth tugging down in one of his little inverted smirks while his right leg bounces a little up and down.
It is just Hobi, after all, you tell yourself. Just Hobi. You are roundly aware that it may be a lie, but it seems to allow you just enough courage to jump.
"Okay, okay!" you practically shout, and he giggles and stomps his feet, which admittedly makes revealing this particular chestnut a bit easier.
"I told him…
“What?”
“I said..."
"What?"
"Oh, Christ! Fine!" And the rest comes out like water from a fire hose. "One time I came to drop off Jimin's charger and you were in dance practice and you were watching the guys and you had this look on your face - like you were pissed or something - and it was so unlike you and I got turned on and ended up having a fucking wet dream that you were stepping on my mother-fucking pussy, okay?! Are you satisfied now?!"
You heave a sigh and throw yourself back against the cushions, hands over your face. How you just mustered the courage to form those actual words you haven't even the faintest notion - but it was going to be you or Jimin, and it might as well be you. After your heart has begun to return to its resting rate and you've heaved a few deep breaths you steel yourself against the certain impending onslaught of Hobi's laughter and general mockery...which doesn't come.
You peek through your fingers to see that your friend has shifted in his chair, facing a bit away from you toward the inside of the room, leaning forward, his hands gripping the ends of the chair's armrests. His face looks a little troubled, or pensive, you can't tell which. You sit up and really look at him, suddenly worried.
Did you just fuck things irrevocably up?
That was an incredibly bizarre and intimate thing to admit.
Shit.
"Hobi?" you squeak, barely over a whisper, as you regard him.
He tilts his head suddenly to look at you, quick like a bird, and when those dark eagle-eyes regard you in return, you feel like a small, helpless creature scurrying across the tundra. Nowhere to hide. A bead of sweat escapes its perch and slips down from your temple. As he utters his question of response, the air suddenly becomes as thick as the tropics.
"Is that something that you'd want, Y/n? To be treated like that? To be...put in your place? Put down?"
You don't answer him. You can't.
Your words, your breath, your coherent thoughts are stuck, inert, useless as your chest begins to rapidly rise and fall in heavy swells. Your eyes are locked on his face as if by magnetic force. He stands, his baggy Louis Vuitton tee falling over his gray sweats. He shoves his hands in the pockets and takes a step toward where you sit. His posture is relaxed. His gaze is anything but.
"Is it?"
You want to say you don't know. That you'd never considered it again. Never once recalled the image of it - of him - standing over you as the sole of his shoe punished your throbbing sex.
"Fuck..." you breathe, and when he doesn't take his eyes from your squirming form, you relent. "...y-yeah."
He takes another step toward you, slowly. He's crowding you now, as he looks down, and the proximity is almost more than you can bear.
"You see," he remarks musingly, "I thought you were gonna say something funny - something ridiculous," he tilts his head to one side, the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips, "But that's not funny, Y/n. No, that's not funny at all. Because, as it turns out..."
He leans down, his breath fanning over your face as he speaks. Mint and espresso. You shiver and close your eyes.
"...that's something I can do."
...what? He can...h-he can....
"Hoseok..." you whisper shakily, because it's all you can manage.
You hear him laugh darkly and you don't look at him.
"Hoseok?" he mimics, "Not, Hobi, huh? Hoseok when you're like this, is it?"
"When I'm like...what?" You practically whimper in complaint, eyes still pressed shut as your last line of defense.
But any manner of defense is in vain as he answers your query, the words dripping from his lips slowly like honey, sickly like venom -
"When you're a filthy, pathetic little slut."
A whine escapes you at the complete and utter shock of his words. Suddenly you clamp your thighs together – whether to provide friction or obscurity to your quickly dampening cunt you are unsure. When he takes your jaw between his fingers and roughly jerks your chin upwards, your eyes flutter frantically open.
"Is this what you want?" he hisses, "For me to have my way with you like a needy whore?"
Fuck, is this happening? This is really happening. Your mind reels, but that's alright - it stopped doing the thinking when he got up out of that chair. Something primal in you had taken over, something that's been starving for so long – something that yearns to feed.
You do your best to nod with your chin in his grip. He swallows thickly, his eyes darting to your lips, and then back up to yours. His pupils are blown, his eyes almost wholly black as they trace over your face. Suddenly his hand slips from your chin to the nape of your neck where his hand tangles in your hair and his head drops to the side, his gaze softening.
"I need you to say it, Y/n, are you sure you want to do this?" he asks, his voice so, so low but without the edge that sends ice through your veins.
His voice. He's asking you as someone who cares about you, cares what you want – your friend.
Do you want this? No...you don't want it. You need it.
"Y-yes! Yes, Hobi - I want this," you find yourself stumbling over the words to get them out.
So quickly and so assured. Have you ever been this certain of anything in your life? His fingers dance against the nape of your neck and you sigh as his eyes travel all over your body.
You want to hide. You want to strip down. You want to run and you want him to chase you. You want him to punish you when he catches you. You are sick with want.
"A safe word, baby, we need a safe word," he nudges your racing mind back into the current moment with his saccharine words.
You blink, your mind running up against the sudden pet name – one that he has never uttered in a tone like this before – as it scrambles for something obvious and yet not ridiculous. Something simple maybe...a flower...?
"Foxglove," you say, and he raises his brows with a grin.
"Foxglove it is," he acquiesces. "So if you ever want me to stop, ever – okay? You say that. Foxglove."
You nod.
"Say it for me," he whispers, and you shiver again. Fuck.
"Foxglove." It's slow and thick leaving your mouth.
"Good girl," he purrs. Butterflies erupt in your rib-cage and your eyelids flutter. "How hard do you want it?" He asks, "How rough?"
You scramble to find your voice.
"Pretty rough, I think," you posit, a bit unsure of what that means.
He hums in response, his brows knitting in thought. You were going to have to give him something to go on, you could see that.
"I..." you stammer, "I want you to...to punish me. I want you to...to hurt me a little."
He raises a brow - looks at you, just stares as if considering. Then suddenly you know what to say.
"See...I'm not a good girl," you insist tilting your head back a bit haughtily, a bit defiantly. Being a good girl had gotten you butterflies, but that's not what you wanted right now. That's not what every cell of your body was screaming for.
He's grinning wickedly again - his other hand is slipping out of his pocket and the one in your hair is gripping at the roots.
"Hm. You're not are you?" he asks, his voice as dark and cold as the Pacific once again.
"No, Hobi," you whisper.
And suddenly your world is tilted on its axis as he tightens his fingers against your scalp and yanks your head back, sending a searing pain shooting through your skin as he stoops to hiss in your ear.
"That's Hoseok, you pretty little bitch."
You let out a whimper so needy it's nearly a sob. Your heartbeat is pounding between your legs. He lets go of your hair as roughly as he grabbed it and goes to lock the door and your stomach flips - you are totally and completely at his mercy. It's a little bit terrifying and absolutely exhilarating.
When he comes to loom over you again, you decide just exactly where you stand in all this. You know exactly what you want.
You glare up at him. He narrows his eyes.
"You gonna listen, hm?"
It's not a question, you know it's not - it's a command. But you have one, just one, of your own...
"Make me."
His eyes go wide and wild.
"So that's how it's gonna be?"
The words are heavy and dark, but you think his mouth twitches up at the corner when you arch a recalcitrant brow in response.
He hums and licks his lips, and you're on the verge of saying something about getting on with it when his hand darts out and fists a chunk of your hair, yanking it back with a force that makes your head spin. He's glaring down at you with eyes so hard and menacing that your rebuttal dies on your tongue. The hand at your nape squeezes and the pressure that seers your scalp is exquisite, spilling a moan from your lips as your arousal becomes more than you are capable of repressing.
"Don't you challenge me, brat," he rumbles from low in his chest as his hand twists against your head and lowers your back to press against the black leather.
You whine in protest, and your palms fly up to shove at him, but his reflexes are like lightning as he snatches your wrists away to pin them above you. Your head spins, eyes losing focus as your whole body flushes with warmth in the wake of his domineering aggression.
You wriggle in his hold, relishing in how his grip tightens and the cold steel in his eyes glints as you resist him.
A knee slides between your legs as he leans over you menacingly, close enough for the padlock charm around his neck to lightly tap your raised chin. Good girl, it seems to whisper in Hoseok's voice, stay put.
Yeah, fuck that.
You snatch the necklace up between your teeth and yank it to the side where it bites sharply into the corner of your mouth.
The sudden motion catches him off guard and he falters, crashing down on top of you with a noise of surprise and losing control of your hands.
You scramble against him, rolling both of you to the floor with a thud.
Your heart is hammering in your chest.
You hear him grunt, his strong hands grappling with your thrashing form, and you catch just a glimpse of his shining eyes and white clenched teeth as he flips you over onto your stomach, hands in a vice grip at the small of your back and your cheek pressing into the cold, hard laminate.
You start to move again but he pushes his weight into the slender fingers splayed over your spine with a low rumble in the back of his throat and you still with a groan.
You're pressed so deliciously firmly to the floor. You can feel arousal soaking your panties as your nerves alight everywhere he has wrested control of you. You can hear him pant, proof of his efforts, and the image of his provoked expression from seconds previous flashes through your mind.
He seemed so cool and collected before. So unbothered. To think that his blood is up and because of you? You let out a trembling breath.
"Fuck," he hisses lowly, then bends to bring his lips to the shell of your ear.
They're soft as they drag over your skin there, feather light. Your whole body shakes, and you feel his mouth pause.
"I don't know who the hell you think you are," he whispers cruelly, "But you were right about one thing...you're not a good girl. You're a disobedient little harlot who needs to be taught the rules of this house."
You whimper pathetically as he presses into you even more intensely, restricting the expansion of your lungs.
"Now," he says nosing at your exposed neck as he begins to pull away, "how about we teach you a lesson or two, hm?"
You feel his weight leave your back, and see his figure rock back on his heels out of the corner of your eye. You are just on the verge of retaliating again when you let out a yelp at the sudden shock of your hips being yanked upward by the back belt loop of your denim shorts. Hoseok lets go of your hands and they fly forward to brace yourself as your ass raises into the air and your knees move toward your chest.
And all at once you know what's coming and you feel your pussy clench in the mere anticipation of -
Smack!
You let out a wanton wail as the sharp crack of his hand against your right glute jolts through your body like a lightning strike and ends with a slam at your swollen clit.
Again - harder! Your mind screams. So you press out a whinging moan of complaint.
SMACK!
It has the desired effect.
CRACK!
Your jaw is slack, but no sound escapes as he punishes you. It hurts. Fuck, it hurts. As if he's attempting to brand your ass with the shape of his hand. But holy hell is it making you drip. Every slap jolts your body and brings the tiniest friction to where you're neediest. Where you've never been needier in your life.
Please punish my pussy....
You try to mumble the words but all you can do is drool onto the floor as he deals out pleasure and pain from above.
And then he stops. You feel hands deftly and swiftly rolling you to lie on your back.
You blink up through bleary eyes, drawing a hand across your mouth to wipe the spit away. Your shoulders are sore.
He's leaning over you, a hand still on your hip, eyes scanning your face.
"What? Did you say something? You need to speak up."
His tone is still biting but his eyes seem to hold a genuine question. Concern.
Warmth floods your chest as it registers that he wants to be able to hear you if you need him to. If you want to stop. But the light has never been so goddamned green.
"Want..." you murmur, "...more, Hoseok."
He curses, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he leans forward to take your jaw in his hand again. He rakes his gaze over your soft, swollen features, unfocused eyes, and heaving chest.
"Look at you so fucked out and all I did was smack that gorgeous ass."
He licks his lips, shaking his head in seeming disbelief as he releases your chin with a little shove. He leans back, dragging his hands over your bare thighs.
"More, hm?" he hums.
You nod eagerly.
He purses his lips and considers you through narrowed eyes, and you sense that if you want him to give you what you so desperately desire, you're going to have to show him you can take it - and take orders. You lay still, hands twitching at your sides as you look up at him through wide eyes.
He continues to run his fingertips up and down your legs as he breathes out a long relenting sigh.
"Alright," he relents, "You took your punishment well, so you should be rewarded, I suppose."
You clamp your bottom lip between your teeth, your heart rate rising again at the prospect.
He tilts forward, looming over you again as he asks the question you've been dying to answer since you woke up breathless all those weeks ago.
"What does my little brat want me to do to her? Let's see if she can use her words."
You blink up at him, unsure if you have permission to speak...or how to put your request into words that won't make you want to immediately melt through the floorboards.
"Cat got your tongue?" Hoseok sneers, pretty, heart-shaped lips curling up at one side.
His hat discarded in your tussle, wavy brown tresses hang down over his brow and his eyes sparkle darkly through them. His features are so beautiful - their loveliness thrown into sharp relief by the flinty pitilessness of their expression.
You're tempted to continue simply soaking him in, if not for the pounding ache in your core demanding that you find your voice.
"I...I want..." your lips tremble as you will yourself to tell him what you need.
Perhaps he senses that you require a little encouragement, because his eyes harden and he digs the edges of his nails into the flesh of your knees, causing you to yelp and moan and then...
"I want you to step on my pussy! Please..." You press out your request with the last of the breath in your lungs.
Hoseok's eyes flutter shut at the last word of your plea.
"Say that again," he commands in a husky whisper, and even without further specification, somehow, you know.
"Please..." You groan, letting your legs drop open demurely.
His eyes are still closed, but he can feel the action with his hands, which have now slipped just inside your knees to your inner thighs. He inhales deeply through his nose, before exhaling with a shuddering breath. When his lids languidly raise again the piercing onyx of what they have unveiled is pinning you to the floor with more deadly force than even his hands ever could. Your pulse pounds in your cunt, your head still swimming from your previous position as he pushes himself up to stand.
As you blink up at Hoseok towering over you, standing between your splayed thighs with his midnight gaze boring into the damp denim covering your heat, something inside you long ajar quietly but firmly clicks into place.
"Tell me, brat" he seethes, eyes roving your trembling form stretched out beneath him, "Who makes the rules in this house?"
"Hoseok-ssi," you whimper, so needy the ache is beginning to hurt.
Every cell of your body is awake with a desperate anticipation that only he can satisfy...or deny.
You have never felt more alive.
And then something happens and your brain shuts off entirely.
Everything vanishes: the studio, the traffic outside the western window, the city of Seoul and South Korea and the whole goddamned planet rolling around in the Milky Way. Nothing exists except the tip of Hoseok's Air Jordan ghosting over the swell of your crotch.
Your mouth waters as his foot slowly slides forward, then goes completely dry as you feel it settle with the sole aligned directly with your slit. His eyes flick up to your face, but you can't hold his gaze for more than a millisecond as he begins to apply pressure to your mound.
Your eyes roll back in your skull, head lolling as your neck goes slack, lips parted in a silent scream as the man above you presses down with a low hum over your sex. The seam of your shorts is biting deliciously into the tender flesh of your clit, sending shockwaves through your core like a live wire, and when he rolls his foot in a circular motion you think you see god.
You do scream then, but it's nothing more than a strangled sound in your throat as your fantasies materialize and he leans his weight into his stance, punishing the soft fat of your cunt with the sole of his shoe.
You're going to cum. He's barely touched you and you're going to cum. He seems to see it in the twisted ecstasy of your features as his lids hood his eyes and filth begins to spill from his lips.
"Do you like that, brat?" he taunts, "That's what you get when you're a good little girl for Hoseok - you get your pretty wet cun-"
Click jangle clack - boom boom boom!
Hobi springs away from you, hopping back on one foot with wide eyes as a succession of rapid knocks follow the stilted motions of the locked door handle. You scramble up from the floor, heart pounding and breath coming fast as you toss yourself into the corner of the couch.
Boom, boom, boom!
"Hyung, are you naked or something?" comes a familiar if muffled voice from the other side of the wall.
You fumble for your phone and Hoseok runs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath before pulling open the door.
The man belonging to the impatient knocks and muffled accusations stumbles headlong into the studio, the locked entrance against which he had pressed his ear and most of his weight having been pulled out from under him.
"Jimi...nie...?" Hobi greets his bandmate and his eyes track the other's toppling form with surprise and a hint of agitation.
Yoongi ambles in casually behind him, sipping a dewy americano through a straw, a beanie sitting atop his ashy locks gnomishly.
Jimin nimbly pushes himself to a stand from where he had crashed against Hobi's desk, not a strand of his coiffed platinum blond hair askew as he spins around face to the dance captain. But before he can get out a greeting or an excuse for his manner of entrance he freezes as he spots you in the corner.
His eyes flick to Hobi's hat on the floor, then to the pink flush on the apples of his friend's cheeks. When Jimin's eyes slide back over to where you are curled into your nook, eyeing him warily over the tiny shield of your phone, his plush lips slowly spread into a sickeningly devious smile.
Hobi scoops his hat up off the floor and tugs in back on before taking a seat, carefully, you notice - thighs pressed together and leaning forward - in his rolling chair. The implication of his posture has you sweating into your shirt.
You need to get it the fuck together.
"If I would have known you were here I'd have brought you a kimbap," Jimin says, wicked grin still plastered on his face as he holds up a plastic convenience store bag.
You blink.
"Oh, uh, that's okay..." you bluster, waving your hand. "I'm not hungry anyway."
It's true. You just lost your appetite for the foreseeable future, stomach a raging sea of nerves as Jimin places the bag on the desk.
Yoongi shuffles over to sit at the other end of the couch, raising his free hand and drawing his mouth into a straight line in greeting. You manage your own tight-lipped grin and flash him a peace sign, hoping you did it quickly enough that the tremor in your hand went unnoticed.
"To what do I owe this visit from my bros?" Hobi asks from where he's turned toward his computer screen to save the neglected file.
His voice is cheerful, but you can hear the strain - how it's pitched just half a tone too high - and Jimin's eyes are still on you.
"I dragged Yoongi hyung out for some fresh air. I took him to lunch and grabbed you a snack on the way back."
"Yah, you took me to lunch? Then why did I pay?" Yoongi grumbles from beside you, his bare features pinched into a grumpy pout that makes him look particularly feline.
"Because you love me," Jimin coos at him and the older musician's mouth quirks up into a smile he can't seem to repress.
"What are you working on, Hoba? Which track?" Yoongi murmurs around the straw between his lips, blinking patiently as Hobi seems to shake himself, pulling his hat off to run a hand through his hair before readjusting it on his head and swiveling back toward his computer screen.
He hits play on the track and Yoongi leaves the couch to join the other two.
This is all so normal, so typical of the guys - the affectionate repartee and chat about ongoing projects. And on an average day, you'd have joined right in.
But today is not an average day.
No.
Five minutes ago, you were spread-eagle on the floor six inches from where Jimin stands, with Hoseok's shoe on your bits.
You have to get out of here.
"I'm, uh, I'm gonna head out, boys," you muster, making a beeline for the door as soon as the inertia of your decision gives you the courage to peel yourself from the corner of the couch.
"You're leaving?" Jimin's voice quips in a saccharine whine, with the slightest edge that makes you avoid his eyes as you slip out with a parting wave.
You do catch Hoseok's expression, whose head snaps up at your parting movements. His brows furrow and his lips part, looking as if he wants to say something, but he doesn't.
And then you're gone.
Your smart watch trills as your heart rate enters cardio territory. Your chest is heaving, breath coming heavy as the pliant cushion of your couch gives way to the crown of your head pressing back into it, eyes pinched shut and hand shoved down your pants.
The bullet vibrator you have pressed to your clit is doing everything it should, and you feel it coming - your orgasm. 6:12pm on a Tuesday and it's already your third self-love session of the day.
You tense your thighs, urging the building pressure in your core to boil over, and quickly. You groan and grit your teeth as your administering hand starts to shake. You writhe and whimper for a moment. And then it's over.
You stare up at the ceiling of your apartment, breathlessly huffing out a despondent sigh as the empty ache in your chest returns. It has become your loathsomely devoted companion in every waking moment over the last ten days, filling you with an unshakable restlessness and sickly discontent.
Nothing can slake it. Not reality TV. Not Cabernet Sauvignon. Not overtime hours. Not ASMR wood-soup videos. Not yoga. Not Ben and Jerry's. Not midnight runs on your NordicTrack. Not fucking yourself to climax on every single goddamned toy you own.
The little monster you roused the weekend before last in Hope World hasn't returned to sleep. No. She is wide awake. And she seems to grow more ravenous with each passing day.
At first you tried to ignore her, but she kept you up into the long, bleak hours of the night. And so, in a fuzzy, staticky haze some time after midnight a number of days ago you typed some words into a search engine that would probably have your assigned FBI agent doing a spit-take.
The thing is, you'd never seen "50 Shades of Grey", you'd never been interested. It wasn't as if you were a prude - hardly! You have always enjoyed sex, both intimate and recreational. In fact, it has always been one of your favored methods of blowing off steam, and you knew quite well how to please yourself and how to guide partners in doing the same.
You have never had problems in taking what you wanted in life, in taking charge and ensuring that things play out your way – it's what makes you so good at your job, and valued by your peers who know that they can rely on you to take the reins and rise to the occasion.
So when you suddenly stumbled unprepared into the world of BDSM, your visceral reaction to the concept of submission left you wondering...why?
Why, why, why?
Why does this do it for you? Why did your very linear, stable existence have to be completely disrupted by this discovery? And most urgently of all, why, for the love of everything sacred, did all the porn in the whole wide world fail to accomplish even a fraction of the effect of Jung Hoseok's size 9 sneaker? It's all too overwhelming to process.
You let out a frustrated whine as you pull your sticky, cramped hand, still clutching the little purple bullet, from the confines of your pants. Your phone buzzes on the coffee table and you can see the notification is from Jimin. You've been ignoring his calls and pleading texts to meet up, or just pick up. You can't face him. Not after ghosting Hobi.
You feel a pang twist in your stomach as you haul yourself toward the shower, hoping the hot water will wash away the guilt you feel for ignoring Hoseok outright. He texted you almost immediately after you left the studio, asking if you were alright. You let him know that you were, with just one word: yeah.
You had typed and retyped that response. "Yeah, thanks" seemed too weird. Like, thanks for what? Almost making you cum with the tip of his shoe? No. "Yeah, sorry" felt pathetic. What were you apologizing for? It seemed to imply...regret? Or fault. Neither of which would have come from a genuine place. And beyond a simple affirmation, you certainly didn't have words. So, "yeah" it was. He tried to call you later that evening, but you didn't pick up. You were already way up in your head by then. It had been radio silence since.
You toss a coconut steamer onto the wet shower tiles and sigh, catching a glimpse of your face in the bathroom mirror as you slide the glass door shut.
"Coward," you mutter as you close your eyes and slip under the cleansing stream.
You're wrapped up in a blanket cocoon and sipping a cup of sleepy-time tea, trying to distract yourself from the messy tangle of emotions waging war across your various chakras with season two of Single's Inferno, when a knock on the door startles you out of your simmering reverie. You heave yourself off the carpeted floor of your living room and scoot toward the door like a fleecy Jabba the Hutt to peek through the peephole.
Your vision is obscured as another eye looks back at you from the other side of the concave glass. You jump back, dropping your blanket shroud in a pile around your feet and let out a yelp of alarm. You slam a hand over the peep hole as giggles erupt on the other side.
"Yah! I know you're in there - so let me in!"
Your entire body sags against the door in relief as you recognize the voice of the would-be intruder. You swing the door open to grant him exasperated entrance.
"Park Jimin, you just took ten years off my life! Creep," you bluster, gathering the blanket up around your body as you retreat back into your apartment.
You plop down again in front of the TV, knowing that Jimin came to either talk you into going out or to just talk, and either way, you are truly not in the mood. Your friend snickers behind you, sauntering into your kitchen. He returns with a beer, bringing the frosty green bottle to his lips before sinking into an armchair and regarding you with an expression that waivers between amusement, pity, and disgust.
"You look awful," he remarks, taking another swig as his gaze roves your unkempt appearance.
Your features twist into a frown, eyes never leaving the television.
"You don't get to barge into my apartment, steal my booze, then insult me, Park," you snip, burrowing further down into the fluffy mass encasing your body.
Jimin raises a brow, a small smile still playing on his lips as he follows your eyes to the television where YouTuber Dex and professional model Lim Minsu flirtatiously splash about in a ridiculously opulent indoor swimming pool.
"Fuck, Dex is hot," Jimin mutters.
"For some reason he reminds me of Jungkook," you smirk, glancing over at him for the first time since he arrived.
He grimaces theatrically.
"I don't see it."
The contestant on the screen flashes his Paradise companion a blinding smile and raises a tattooed arm to cut through the water, content to show off his stroke precision as his date watches on. The resolve on Jimin's face falters .
"Yeah, well...Dex is hotter."
You scoff.
"Yeah, no. Kook-ah is definitely hotter."
"For the love of god, just don't tell him that, okay?" Jimin pleads, "That kid is insufferable enough these days."
"You love him."
He hides a smile behind another sip of Hite.
"Why did you ghost Hobi hyung?"
Jimin blinks innocent eyes at you, as if he hasn't just dumped the last week and a half of silent agony over your head like a bucket of ice water. But the chill is momentary, because the next second your body feels like an oven. You stammer.
"I-I...ghost him? I didn't ghost anyone...I'm busy...I..." you trail off weakly as your friend's unimpressed and knowing gaze bores into your soul.
You sigh and scrub your hands over your face.
"Because I'm a big chicken, okay?" You murmur into your palms.
You don't know why, but you feel like crying. When you pull your hands away from your face, Jimin must see it because suddenly he's on the couch wrapping you in the kind of hug that reminds you why he's your ride-or-die, and in the safety of his embrace the tears begin to fall. Days of being alone with yourself and your conflicted feelings pour from your ducts and onto the front of Jimin's bright yellow flannel. He coos words of reassurance, admonishing your tears, as he strokes your hair.
"Talk to me, you silly goose," he hums with an endeared chuckle.
You sniff and hiccup as you pull away, wiping your puffy eyes.
"I don't even know what to say, Minnie...I don't know what's wrong with me..."
Jimin smiles and grabs a few tissues from the box on the coffee table, dabbing them against your nose.
"Well, first of all, nothing is wrong with you. But second of all, tell me what is bothering you."
You heave a dramatic sigh.
"If I tell you, you have to swear - and I mean swear - that you will not make fun of me or tell anyone else. And I mean not Taehyung, not Yoongi, not anyone, you hear me?"
He smirks, but nods in assent. You narrow your eyes at him.
"Say it. Out loud." You demand warily.
Jimin rolls his eyes and throws up his hands.
"Yah! Okay! I won't tell anyone," he quips mockingly.
You sigh again and draw your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. If this gets too hard to talk about with eye-contact at least you'll have a place to hide your bashful face.
"I..." you start softly, not sure where to begin except the beginning, "Re-remember that thing I told you when we got plastered a little while back...about...Hobi?"
Jimin's lips quirk at the corners as he nods.
"Well...the thing is...wait!" You cut yourself off, suddenly gripped by a notion that has you prematurely flustered and indignant. "What did he tell you?"
Jimin shakes his head, a small smile still playing on his full lips.
"Nothing," he responds, looking you dead in the eye in a way that has you almost believing he's telling the truth.
"No, really," you press.
Jimin leans back against the arm of the couch from where he faces you, running a hand through his hair and drawing his legs up to criss-cross in front of him.
"Jagi, this is Hobi hyung we're talking about. You think he would do that? He has too much respect for you. He would never. Not to anyone. Not even me."
Your chest floods with relief, affection, and regret. Fuck. Of course he wouldn't. He was too mature of a person for that. Too considerate. Too lovely. And you hadn't even had the gumption to speak to him for the last ten days beyond a mono-syllabic SMS. Jimin watches your expression do emotional acrobatics.
"So..." he offers encouragingly, "something...happened....between you guys, right? That day Yoongi hyung and I showed up? We...uh...interrupted something, didn't we?" He can't help a devilish smile, eyes twinkling as he carefully phrases his query.
You bury your face into your knees and squeak out an affirmation. Jimin lets out a bright laugh and you immediately raise your burning face in a scowl.
"Hey! You said you wouldn't-"
He waves his hands in apology as he attempts to gain his composure.
"Mianhae, mianhae! I'm not laughing at you!" He insists, leaning forward to grab your swatting hands by the wrists.
"Sounds kind of like you are!" You huff, yanking your arms from his grasp.
"So..." Jimin hums, tilting his head to track your gaze as you try again to hide your face, "If he's down, and you're down...what's the problem? Why did you run and hide? Did your feelings change?"
You slowly raise your eyes to his, searching them as you decide just how much you're willing to tell him right now. You chew on your bottom lip as you realize you need to get it out. All of it. You drop your legs to mirror Jimin's posture, lowering your defenses with your millionth-and-first sigh of the evening.
"Okay...well..." you muse, fiddling with the blanket still draped over your lap. "You know how I told you that stuff that I...dreamt...about Hobi?"
Jimin nods.
"Well...something did kind of happen...and well..." you trail off as Jimin raises his brows expectantly.
"Oh, fuck it!" you bluster, exhausted by your own attempts at delicacy. "He dominated me and I liked it. I really really liked it, okay? And it freaked. me. the fuck. out. Like...I've neeeeever felt that way before about fooling around. It wasn't just fun, or, like, pleasurable...it was...almost..." you search for the words as Jimin stares at you raptly. "...Freeing? Like, a relief. Like, a 'where has this shit been all my life' moment."
Jimin hums and nods, interlacing his fingers and leaning his chin against his knuckles.
"Like...I don't know...I'm a very independent person. And capable. And, yeah, things have been crazy stressful at work, and I have a lot on my plate...but I handle it, you know? In fact, I don't just handle it, I kind of...enjoy the pressure of leadership and responsibility? It drives me. I've always been like that, in every area of my life..."
Jimin smiles and lets out a sound of recognition.
"So the one who wears the crown is wondering why it feels so good to be...subjected?" He waggles his brows. You roll your eyes.
"Grow up, dude."
"Am I right, though? I'm right."
You find yourself chewing your bottom lip again.
"Essentially. I like power. I like control. What is this sudden obsession with losing it? It's...scary. And confusing."
Jimin smiles.
"You know, it's actually not that uncommon, from what I understand," he states, reaching for his abandoned beer on the coffee table.
You quirk an eyebrow.
"I mean, everyone is different, and this is a journey you're going to have to take for yourself to get the answers, but from what I know about the BDSM community, it's not unusual for people who are in positions of power to crave a bit of a...reprieve."
"Really?"
"Yeah," he nods, reclining back again against the arm of the couch, "The bedroom is a good place to let your walls down. Maybe the only place, for some people. And with a trusted partner it can even be healing to play a different role than you do in other parts of your life."
It's your turn to smirk.
"You talk as if you know," you prod playfully, shoving your toes into his shin. He smiles that wicked smile of his and you laugh.
"What I'm trying to say is, maybe it's not just about the...dynamics. Maybe it's also that it's Hobi hyung. He knows you. You know him, too. You trust each other. Maybe you could get to know each other in a new way. Be something for each other that you both need." He takes the last sip of his beer and twirls the bottle in his hands, gazing at you with a gentle thoughtfulness.
You nod slowly, digesting his newly offered perspective.
"So," you muse, raising your eyes to him again, "You think he needs it too?"
Jimin shrugs.
"Only he could tell you that for sure. But I do know this, he's awfully good at being bossy, and doesn't get a lot of opportunity to run the show - outside of dance practice, that is."
Chuckling nervously at the thought, you try your best to conceal the spark that has crackled to life from the burning coals inside you at the mention of his natural command of authority.
"Hey," Jimin posits with a grin, "Maybe if he's spanking you he'll go a little easier on us when we screw up the choreo..."
"EXCUSE ME THE FU-WHAT?!" You shriek, snatching up a throw pillow to beat him mercilessly as he falls in raucous laughter to the floor.
Turning to glance over your shoulder at your reflection in the mirror, you smooth your hands over the back of the svelte black bodycon number you've donned for the evening. You're a vision in monochrome, having paired your LBD with sleek stilettos and dark smokey eyes with heavy lashes.
Your phone buzzes, indicating that your ride share is close by. Butterflies flutter in your belly as you reach for the finishing touch to your outfit: a velvety black choker with a sliver o-ring studded in colorless topaz. It's just fashionable enough to still look like a necklace, but it gives you a bit of a thrill to know that it's not. To know what's tucked inside your purse to accompany it. To wonder if, going unnoticed by most, it will catch a certain pair of dark eyes.
The drive across town to reach the Jihope residence never felt so long. You try your best to calm your nerves over the last few blocks of distance - it’s just a party, after all, and kind of a silly one at that.
During Jimin's last visit, he mentioned that he and Hobi would be throwing a Black Day party for all of their single friends the following weekend, and after dodging his attempts at socialization so religiously of late, you felt you owed it to him to attend.
Black Day had never been something your group of friends had ever observed before, but it was incredibly chic to do so this year, for whatever reason. And of course, all the organizing duo of the soiree needed was the slightest excuse for Jimin to party and Hobi to host.
Upon arriving at the building, you can already hear the music pumping from the top floor, and the chatter of guests spilling out onto the terrace. You present your ID to the security guard at the front gate, and are escorted to a private elevator that whisks you up to the penthouse. Being quite successful and comfortable yourself, you still find yourself surprised when reminded of the sheer net worth of your humble, down-to-earth Bangtan pals. Hobi is worth the most, and while he is an excellent investor and a generous philanthropist, he also likes to show out, and in style.
You take a deep breath as you buzz the bell.
The door swings open to reveal a handsome young man in a black t-shirt tucked into baggy dark-wash jeans, his fluffy brown hair parted in the middle and his ears glinting with rows of silver hoops. His round eyes scrunch into little moons and he flashes an adorable toothy grin, endearingly lopsided where it stretches deeper against the little orbital piercing at the right side of his bottom lip.
“Noona!" he growls, pulling you into a bear hug. "Where have you been? The last two times we went to noraebang there was no one to sing Through the Night with me!"
"Ah...hah...", you nervously chuckle, pulling away from his embrace as you search your brain for an excuse other than business.
"I'll sing with you, Googie!"
You turn to see your salvation from further explanation in the form of a giggling young woman bouncing up to clutch Jungkook's arm and steady herself as she sways on her platform heels. She smells like soju and fruity perfume.
You smirk and thank her, patting her hand where it clutches your friend's tattooed forearm before she's dragging him away down the hall.
"Make sure she stays hydrated!" You call after him with a shake of your head, making your way through the throng of guests to the bar area.
The furnishings of the residence are a study in classy postmodern minimalism, punctuated with abstract urban art – though you notice that some of the Kaws pieces are missing, likely stored away for safekeeping from rowdy party-goers.
The sleek chrome and granite full-service bar is stocked with liquor and beer, and a commissioned mixologist is crafting darkly colored cocktails. A buffet-style spread offers the traditional jjajangmyeon and an assortment of other delicious eats.
The spacious dining area is littered with small tables draped in black linens, each bearing centerpieces of hellebore, leather leaf, black carnations, and eucalyptus. The living room has been converted to a dance floor, complete with a glittering disco ball. House music booms through the built-in speaker system as guests in groups and pairs move to the beat.
You glance over a drink menu of themed cocktails as a voice sounds from over your shoulder.
"I recommend the Down With Love."
Turning, you flash the speaker a grin.
"Alright, but is it giving Judy or Barbara?"
Taehyung raises a disparaging brow.
"It's a gimlet. Judy, obviously."
You chuckle, putting in your order for the suggested beverage.
"You look good," he remarks, gesturing at you with the unlit cigarette tucked between his first two fingers, his other hand slipped into his pocket as he leans against the wall.
He doesn't look bad himself, you think, in his black satin top and flared Merlot trousers.
"Thanks," you smile as the bartender hands over an inky concoction garnished with a grapefruit slice twisted into the shape of a heart and run through with a toothpick.
You eye it skeptically.
"How do they make it black?"
"Activated charcoal. C'mon."
Tae links your arm through his and weaves through the bustle to a table of familiar faces. Yoongi raises a whiskey tumbler in greeting and you clink your glass with his, sliding into a chair next to Taehyung and reaching over to give Namjoon's arm an affectionate squeeze. It seems that all the members have turned up, save Seokjin, who's been a taken man three years strong.
You fall into easy conversation with the boys, and just when your difference of opinion with Namjoon over Lee Bul's latest installation piece is developing into a full-blown debate, Jimin slides up to the table and spills onto Taehyung's lap.
"None of you are dancing!" He whines breathlessly, poking Tae's cheek as the other man smiles shyly.
"Jungkook is," Yoongi rebuts, taking another bite of jjajangmyeon.
He's not wrong, though to your amusement, the maknae appears to be getting danced on more than anything else.
"Where's Hobi hyung?" Tae queries, prodding gently at Jimin's full cheek in return.
Jimin's eyes dart to you, a smirk spreading slowly across his lips as his gaze rakes up from your heels to the choker around your neck.
"Good question," he hums, rising to take your hand and pull you up from your seat. "Let's go find him."
Jimin heads for the French doors at the far end of space that lead onto the terrace. They're propped open, and cool evening air floods the apartment, keeping the atmosphere from suffocating under the warmth of body heat and the scent of rich food.
"Jimin!" You hiss, as you approach the rooftop patio, "What are you doing? This is the opposite of subtle!"
He laughs merrily.
"You're so cute when you're flustered!"
You don't have any more time to grumble as you emerge under the darkening sky, just beginning to speckle with stars barely visible against the glow of string lights wrapped around the cozy outdoor enclosure. There's a small electric fire pit surrounded by plush patio furniture, and live greenery all around.
The energy is much more relaxed than within, but even so, you feel your pulse quicken as Jimin guides you toward a small group at the corner of the terrace. You recognize a few of the men and women gathered as industry producers, but none of that really matters because all your brain can register is him.
And holy shit does he look good.
He's arresting sophistication and effortless elegance. A silk charcoal dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, ripples along the lines of his torso - save where the top three buttons have been neglected to expose the smooth planes of his toned chest. His lean, athletic legs seem even longer than usual in fitted black slacks, his pretty wrists and fingers sparkling with jewelry where his thumbs are slipped into his pockets. His hair has been slicked back from his face, and his eyes are just barely obscured by a pair of lightly tinted wire-rimmed aviators. That brilliant, warm heart-shaped smile cuts through all the sharp darkness of his garb, and your breath catches in your chest when Jimin calls out to him.
"Hyung!"
As Hoseok's eyes meet yours the grin stretched across his face falters, but he quickly regains composure.
"Eyyy," he greets you, striding forward and wrapping his arm around your shoulders to pull you into a side hug. Of course he smells as incredible as he looks.
"Hi, Hobi," you murmur a bit shyly, returning his embrace.
"Hyung," Jimin pouts cutely, "Save us! She was putting our guests to sleep talking to Namjoon-ah about art theory."
"Hey," Hobi chides in a warning tone, cocking his head to the side to glance down at you. "Don't enable the poor guy – he needs to get laid."
"Well nobody is going to approach him if she's hanging around looking like that." Jimin gestures casually, a mischievous twinkle glinting for a moment his eye.
Hobi's arm slips off your shoulders to grasp your hand as he steps back. He's never been good at keeping his feelings from his face, and the look trained on his features as he appraises you has you thinking you made the right decision when you put on that dress.
"How about we keep you out of trouble and on the dance floor, hm?" Hobi says with a sly smile, raising your hand and tilting forward in a posture of invitation.
You roll your eyes playfully, unable to bite back a smile of your own as you motion for Hobi to lead the way, careful to avoid Jimin's eyes as you let the rapper guide you back into the thrumming pulse of the festivities.
He gently pulls you onto the dance floor and tugs you into him, keeping a hold on your right hand as he slips the other just below the curve of your waist. You settle into an easy step to the lively beat. Hobi's eyes search your face as you tilt it up to him, running a hand up his chest to adjust the collar of his shirt with a sigh. You fiddle with the soft fabric between your fingers.
"I'm sorry, Hobi," you murmur, just loudly enough for him to hear.
When he just smiles a bit sadly you feel your heart squeeze and you drop your head to his chest. You will yourself not to cry as he slows his movements, slipping a knuckle beneath your chin to raise your gaze to his own.
"Hajima," he protests, "Let's talk later. Right now, how about we just have some fun? I missed you."
His expression is sweet and earnest and you feel like your chest might not have room for anything more than your complete and utter affection for this man.
"I missed you too," you admit with a little grin, pressing yourself against him just a bit more firmly and gazing up at him through widened eyes. He blinks for a moment, and then suddenly, there it is again, blooming across his lips - that blinding gorgeous smile, and that heady, infectious laugh.
In one quick motion, he spins you around to face away from him as the music drops to a deep, throbbing EDM number, his fingertips grazing your hips and his lips ghosting the shell of your ear.
"You did, huh?" he purrs. "Alright, then...show me how much."
You suck in a breath because you don't ever think you'll be ready for how quickly he can turn that dark, deep voice in his chest into something that makes you feel like you're astral-projecting. Your first instinct is to push him away, make him take it from you...but this moment isn't for that. After your exit last time around, you’re determined to make him so incredibly certain that you want him. That you need him.
You lean back into him and, whispering a silent prayer of gratitude to the goddess of stilettos, press your ass firmly into his groin. You feel the air leave his lips in a hiss against your neck, and his hands slide to squeeze your hips and tug your body even deeper into his. You grind back against him as your body undulates with the hypnotic rhythm of the beat, but it's not long before he's taken over guiding the motion of your hips to match the rolls of his own.
Your eyelids flutter. You've never been this close to him. Sure, in the studio, things had gotten hot and heavy - but you had only been in his hands. He had only touched you to move you, still you, punish you. Now you are flush against his body, and everywhere you touch as he rocks you in tortuous waves against him tastes like the first sumptuous bite of a forbidden fruit.
You can feel him beginning to swell against the plush of your ass, but even that isn't what has a familiar ache throbbing at the apex of your thighs – it's the effortlessness with which he wrests control of your body, your mind...your very being down to its most primal core.
Hoseok's hand skids up your side and slips over your collarbones.
"I like this necklace," he mumbles into your hair.
You turn in his arms, slipping your fingers around the back of his neck as you raise your lips to his ear.
"I'm disappointed in you, Hoseok," you tut, "It's not a necklace, you know."
He doesn't respond, but focuses on bringing his leg to slot between yours, hiking your dress up enough to tease your mound with brushes over the front of his thigh. You swallow a moan.
He's toying with you, but you won't give in. Not so easily. Not yet.
"I guess you could call it a choker..." you rasp, trying to keep the tremor from your voice as your face presses into the side of his jaw, "That is more descriptive of its actual purpose, I suppose."
For one millisecond in the fabric of time and space you feel his pace falter as the words spill from your lips - then he runs his hand up your back, slipping two fingers under the tight strip of velvet surrounding your throat.
For the first time since you started dancing, you look at him. Crystalline beads of sweat have broken out on his brow, and his mouth is set in a stern line, his eyes hooded and dark as tugs his fingers back to command a view of your gaze.
"Are you telling me," he grits out lowly, digging his fingers into the flesh of your hip so bruisingly you gasp, "...that you showed up to my party wearing a fucking collar?"
You don't answer him - instead you let a wicked smile slip over your lips, refusing defiantly to drop his piercing stare. He has stopped moving you against him, stopped moving entirely. His hands are firm but still where they hold you as his eyes bore down.
"Are you out here trying to finish what we started?"
You tilt your head back, narrowing your eyes seductively.
"What do you think?"
You watch a thousand and one thoughts race through Hoseok's mind as his eyes drop to your neck again and he swallows thickly.
"Oh, fuck it," he hisses, turning and catching your hand to pull you impatiently through the crowd.
You barely have time to wonder what he's thinking or where you're headed when, at the opening to the hall, he spins to grasp your waist and tuck you into a small alcove. He does it so quickly and with such force that you nearly topple the potted plant on the stand beside you.
He pushes himself against you, the tip of his nose brushing yours, and his firm body pressing you to the wall. He holds your wrists in his hands, pinning them to either side of your body. You let out a tiny whimper.
His peppermint breath fans over your cheeks.
"I was going to wait," he whispers loud enough for you to hear him clearly over the music from the room behind you. "I was going to ask you...to stay. After..." he traces his nose along the ridge of your cheekbone as he squeezes your wrists tightly, his nails nipping into your skin. "But you come here with the audacity to tease me like that? Out there, in front of everyone like a desperate little slut?"
His mouth is hovering over your ear as he speaks, sending shivers cascading down your spine.
"I'm not a patient man," he mutters darkly, and you feel your pussy throb.
You struggle slightly against his grasp, and he growls lowly. Turning into him, you press your mouth against his throat, letting your teeth graze his skin as you respond.
"Then don't be."
It's all the permission he needs. He snatches you away from the wall, dragging you down the hall toward the master bedroom at the far end. Your heartbeat hammers in your chest as you gaze at the dark mahogany door growing closer and closer with every stumbled step you take to match his hurried pace.
He turns to glance over his shoulder, and you follow the action as he grips the handle, turns it, and...
"What the..." Hoseok mutters, rattling the handle forcefully before raising his fist to pound against the door. "YAH! UNLOCK THIS DOOR!" He booms.
You hear muted voices and sounds of scurried movement from within. He bangs again and again until the door swishes open to reveal a flushed and flustered Jungkook, still fumbling with the button of his jeans.
"Hyung! S-sorry, hyung, I was just...we were..."
"OUT." Hoseok demands icily, pushing the door inward on its hinges to reveal the peppy, strawberry-scented young woman from before hurrying forward to tuck herself behind Jungkook as she draws a hand across her smeared lipstick.
You bite back a grin as you watch them scuttle down the hall before Hoseok shuts and locks the door behind you.
"That kid...seriously," he grumbles. "He knows my room is off limits."
You chuckle, despite his lack of amusement, and he takes your hand again, drawing you toward a small couch at the far side of the large room. You take in your surroundings as you cross the space - similarly furnished to the rest of the apartment. The furniture is sleek and modern, Kaws sculptures and collectible figurines occupy tables and shelves. There are a few live plants, including one hanging from a large hook in the ceiling near a massive, raised canopy bed.
He draws you to sit beside him, a crease still pinched between his brows, likely from having to evict the irksome intruders. You laugh softly and run a thumb over his forehead.
"They're gone!" you chuckle, "Don't let it bother you so much. You'll get wrinkles." You tease, and his face softens.
He catches your hand in both of his as it lowers. He sighs.
"I needed a bit of water thrown in my face anyway," he smirks, and you glance down bashfully. "Before anything really happens, I think we should have…a conversation."
You nod in agreement.
"Can I start?" you interject and he nods in return.
You huff out a long breath.
"I want to apologize for how I reacted...last time."
He smiles wryly.
"It was all very new and sudden to me, and...I don't know...I freaked out."
Hobi squeezes your hand.
"You have no reason to be sorry about that. I should have never initiated like that somewhere that wasn't really private. I just got caught up..." he shakes his head.
"No! Me too! I'm glad it happened. I..." you trail off, feeling your face heat. "Oh, fuck, I don't know how to say this..."
He claims he's not a patient man, but he waits, watching with tender eyes as you choose your words.
"I haven't been able to stop thinking about it...like..." you take a deep breath as you gather the courage for vulnerable transparency.
You remember what Jimin said. It's Hobi. You are safe with Hobi.
"It was like nothing I've ever felt before. Like a release...more than sexual, you know? Like, freedom. Like, I felt so alive."
He smiles, nodding his head in understanding.
"I..." you continue, still nervous but with mounting confidence as he makes you feel heard, "I would like to...explore this part of myself, this new world," you gesture, "And...well, I would love for you to be the one to guide me."
You raise your gaze to his. His eyes are shimmering. He slowly raises a hand and brushes his fingers over your cheek.
"It would be my honor," he murmurs earnestly.
A smile blooms across your face and your chest fills with warmth. You raise your hand, curling your fingers into his where they rest against your jaw. He drops your hands, still holding on, to his knee.
"Can I ask how much you know about the community?" he queries, tracing his thumb softly over your knuckles.
"A lot more now than I did a couple of weeks ago!" you respond with a laugh. "I know that I'm a sub, but one that likes to...fight back a little bit?"
Hobi smirks, pocketing his tongue in his cheek. His eyes glint.
"A brat," he answers.
"...Yeah."
"Want me to work for it."
Your mouth quirks up in a grin.
"The harder the challenge the bigger the payoff," he hums, glancing thoughtfully down at your joined hands.
"I think," he says after a pause, "Since you're new to all this, we should start slow. I already know some things you enjoy, and vice versa. But part of this kind of thing is about testing your limits. You're going to come across things you don't like, too. I need you to be able to tell me. Without a second thought. Seriously."
He looks at you intently.
You smile.
"I trust you enough to know that you’d stop if that’s what I wanted. I may enjoy being dominated but I do still know what I want. And with you...I..." You tug at his hand, "I know I could say what I...need.”
He huffs out a little breath, his brows drawing together as he regards you in reverence.
"You know you can be that way with me too, right? Needy?" You ask softly. "I want...to take care of you, that way. Maybe we can...take care of each other."
You're not looking at him. You can't. It's all incredibly intimate and strange. When he doesn't respond, you begin to wonder if you said something you shouldn't have. And then your doubts vanish as quickly as they had appeared when you feel his arm slip around your shoulders as he pulls you into his chest, tucking your head beneath his chin.
Your heart sings.
After a long, quiet moment, Hobi pulls back to look at you.
"Should we set some rules for ourselves?" he asks.
You purse your lips and nod. Admittedly, you had come with a few in mind.
"I think...we shouldn't kiss. Well, not on the mouth. It's...I don't know. I think it might make things confusing."
Hobi looks thoughtful, nodding slowly.
"Which brings me to my other thought," you chew your lip. "I think this should just be about sex. We're friends, and I want to keep that aspect of our relationship strong and uncompromised."
He smiles.
"Makes sense to me. But..." he says with a raise of his brows, "If we do start seeing other people, I think we should tell each other. Especially if they're going to be people we're fooling around with."
You give an enthusiastic hum of assent.
“I don’t have a partner at the moment,” you shake your head, glancing up at him.
“Me neither.”
He clears his throat and shifts his stance.
“When we’re…together,” he gestures in the space between you. “What about protection?”
You blink thoughtfully.
“I’m on birth control.”
He nods.
“Okay…would you want me to wear a condom?”
You feel heat creep up your neck as you meet his gaze with a shake of your head.
“Not unless you wanted you.”
He stares at you for a long moment before chuckling and shaking his own head.
“Ay, you’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”
You smile and pull your bottom lip between your teeth.
"Oh! And we already have a safeword!” you remind him with a grin.
"We do," he acknowledges, his eyes dropping to the glinting metallic ring adorning your throat.
Your smile falters and your heartbeat quickens…and when he looks back up at you it's like whiplash as he sets you reeling again with a dark, hungry gaze.
"If that thing isn't a necklace," he rasps, reaching his fingers up to touch the cold silver, "How about we put it to its proper use, hm?"
You shiver, pressing your thighs together as your heartbeat drops to your clit.
"Yeah..." you whisper, your breath already starting to come quicker as you reach for your bag and fumble with trembling fingers with the clasp.
Hoseok's brow knits as he watches you open the purse, reaching in to produce a length of light chain about three feet long with a velvet strap on one and a claw clasp on the other. You double it up and dangle it from your hand, your heart thrumming in your chest as you raise your eyes to his.
"You can put it on me," you purr, "...But you'll have to take it from me first."
Click.
That ineffable thing, that invisible force he wields that arrests you has slipped back into place. You can feel it, pouring off him in devastating waves...and you're already starting to drown.
It didn't take him long to wrestle the leash from your grasp. Now you're on your knees before him, hands at your sides as he leans forward to affix the chain to the o-ring at your neck. You're breathing hard from your struggle. He stands to his full height, wrapping the links around his hand until the line is taught. He clicks his tongue condescendingly.
"What am I going to do with you now, hm?" he murmurs, tugging at the chain briefly so that you lurch slightly forward. You whine complaintively.
"Quiet," he hisses in warning.
You bite your lip. You need to obey now. Your panties are soaked and you can feel the turgid swell of your clit with every slight motion of your body. If you are good for him, then maybe you will be rewarded. Being a good girl should earn something. Right now, you will take anything.
Hoseok glowers down at you, tilting his head to the side as his eyes trail over your features, coming to rest on your pouted lips. He wets his own.
"You like to run that mouth of yours...how about we see what else it can do?"
Holy fucking shit. You feel saliva begin to pool under your tongue, your eyes flicking down to the bulge at the front of his slacks. You start to raise your hands toward his belt but he yanks sharply upward on the chain, the metal ring biting into the underside of your jaw, ripping a mewl of discomfort and impatience from your lips.
He lets out a long sigh, shaking his head as his lips curve into a cruel smile.
"So eager that she can't even wait for permission?"
You whimper again, biting your lip as he laughs darkly above you.
"My little whore wants something, doesn't she?"
You give a silent nod, letting your tongue slip out to wet your lips and watch his eyes darken as his pupils swallow his deep brown irises.
"Mmm..." He hums in consideration, bringing his free hand to cradle your chin. "I've told you before, sweet thing, if you want something, you have to ask for it."
Your eyes blink languidly as you look up at him. Your head is swimming as you sway on your knees, the dizzy helplessness of being spun between degradation and endearment hanging over you like a heavy trance. His fingers tighten around your jaw.
"Come on..." he coaxes in a chilly whisper, "Use that pretty mouth to ask Hoseok."
You swallow thickly.
"Wan..." you start softly, but his grip on your jaw sharpens.
"Speak up, I can't hear you," he commands reproachfully.
Heat swells up from your neck and sweat begins to tickle your hairline. You know what you want, you've been thinking about little else since he was pressed against you on the dance floor...but the thought of giving your filthy, aching desires shape has every inch of your body trembling.
"Wan...want..." you struggle over his fingers pressing harshly into your cheeks.
He tuts, and the look on his stony features suddenly warns you that if you don't overcome your nerves...
"Wan' your cock!" you choke out desperately.
Hoseok's lids dip slowly and his lips part, as if your words have been injected into his veins, and you think you could fucking cum at the sight. His eyes flutter open again and he gazes down. You fight for patience and composure with each maddening second of silence that passes. You can feel your pussy clench and your hands follow suit. Hoseok catches the motion. A sickening grin spreads over his lips.
"Want this cock, hm?" he hums, releasing your chin from his grasp to palm over the clothed swell inches from your lips.
You whimper pathetically, letting your eyes slip shut. Fuck you want him. You want your mouth around him. You want to choke on him. You want the thick, sticky milk of his release on your tongue.
"So tell me, brat," he hisses, wrapping another loop of chain around his palm so that he holds you on a mere few inches of leash. "How do you want my cock?"
Any shame has been dispelled from your being in the presence of your burning desire, and you raise heavy, lustful eyes to his dark ones.
"Wanna suck it off."
You can see his chest beginning to rise and fall with more effort as he pulls you by the leash, in tortuously slow deliberation, until your lips are ghosting over the zipper of his slacks. He glares down at you, the corner of his mouth curling up in a sneer as he holds you in place.
"BEG."
A violent tremor of arousal jolts through your abdomen and you gasp.
"P-please..." you stammer dumbly against the soft, dark cotton.
"Again."
"Please..."
"Please, what?"
"Please..." you breath shakily, "Will you fuck my mouth?"
You feel him twitch under the vibration of your supplicating words.
"Alright," he relents in a rasp, "But keep those hands at your sides, understand?”
You nod.
“Unless,” he tugs at the chain again,”You need to stop. Then you grab my leg and squeeze.”
“Okay.”
“What are you going to do, baby? If you need me to stop?”
“Squeeze your leg.”
“That’s right,” he hums and the repeated instruction.
You chew on your lip as he pulls off his belt and slips open the button, giving a tug at your collar. As you look up at his hooded eyes, you know exactly what to do.
You nose at the seam, trying for one moment to ignore the throbbing bulge against your cheek as you find the zipper with your teeth and drag it slowly downward, your eyes never breaking his burning gaze.
"Good girl," he hisses, pushing his pants down his hips to reveal a pair of tight, black boxer briefs, a sizable strain pulling at the flexible fabric where he's hard beneath them.
He hooks two thumbs into the elastic and tugs down, his fully erect cock springing free to bob against the side of your face. A sticky streak of precum smears across your cheek as you seek his head with your lips, barely having time to register the smooth tip, or the pretty, pulsating veins as you rush to swallow him whole.
Hoseok lets out a long, deep groan as you suckle greedily around him. Allowing your spit to slick his shaft you pull back, keeping just the crown between your lips as you worry your tongue along his dripping slit.
He's rock hard and heavy on your tongue as you lean in to take him farther down your throat, bunching your hands into your dress at the aching urge to cup and stroke the velvet skin of his scrotum.
"Fuck," he grits out from between clenched teeth, "That's right..."
You bob lower and lower on his shaft, seeking to take as much of him as you are able. When you feel his tip brush the back of your throat, you moan around him. His free hand flies into your hair, and suddenly he's yanking you off of him. You cough and splutter at the sudden motion and he tugs the chain so that you raise watery eyes to him. He releases your hair to absently stroke himself as he lightly pants over you.
"Asked me to fuck that throat. Think you can take it?"
You nod as you attempt to wipe drool pooling on your chin into your shoulder.
"Words," he pushes, snapping the chain around his wrist.
"Yeah," you mock, matching his tone, a spark of defiance reigniting inside you.
Hoseok lets out a hollow laugh.
"So confident. We'll see about that."
He slips two fingers of his free hand into the strap of your collar and tugs you back toward his cock. You open wide, extending your tongue to catch the head and pull him between your lips.
You move to swallow him again, but he halts you.
"Keep still," he mutters coldly, and the fingers at your collar hold you tightly in place as he slowly slides his hips forward in a thrust that has him inching toward your soft palate.
Your eyes water, but you have never been more determined to fight your gag reflex as he pulls back and pushes in again, deeper, his cock tapping again at the back of your throat.
"Goddamn, you really can take it," he groans in a shaky voice. "Such a good little slut for Hoseok. Such a pretty, filthy little mouth."
Your nostrils flare as you draw air through your nose, and you swallow, the muscle of your throat contracting tightly around him. At this he seems to break, suddenly pulling back his hips to snap them forward as he sets a rough, self-indulgent pace.
Your eyes water, spilling over from the brutal stretch and sting, but you dig your fingers into your thighs, determined to take him as long as you possibly can.
You start to feel light-headed, and just when you think you're going to have to tap out for air, Hoseok's pulling you off of him and wrenching your face upwards to run his wild eyes over it.
You gasp for breath a moment, and then you're opening your mouth to him again, blinking up through bleary eyes in a silent, hungry plea. He shakes his head slowly as he gazes down at you, chest heaving.
"Shit, look at you..."
You're a site. Tears and mascara streak your cheeks, saliva and precum slick your chin and neck, your parted lips swollen. Hoseok's fingers twist where they're still hooked into the collar.
"You still want it, don't you? My god..." he smears the tip of his cock along your bottom lip.
Your eager tongue wriggles forward to brush over him again. He swallows, and with a growl he slaps his cock down harshly over it. You let out a little sob as your soaking, aching cunt clenches around nothing.
"Alright," he mutters in a husky whisper, "Gonna fucking ruin that tight little throat. Gonna fill it the fuck up. Blow my load all over that nasty little tongue. And you want that, don't you? Wanna be Hoseok's pretty little cumslut, hm?"
You nod, and then remember the rules.
"Yes," you croak, and open wide for him again.
He grits his teeth and tugs at the collar to pull you slowly over him again with a shudder. You've proven more than capable and it's not long before he's chasing release at a punishing pace. It's sloppy and desperate - the hollow, wet sounds as he fucks your face a pornographic symphony.
Suddenly you think you can feel his cock twitch and jerk as it hammers into your mouth, and when he grows so incredibly hard, you know he's about to reach his peak.
You lock eyes with him through your tears, watching his features strain to maintain their composure. Without warning he grabs the back of your head and slams into you, arching over as he cries out.
And he cums.
Thick ropes spurt down your throat as he quivers and throbs.
The moment he's spent his last drop of release he fists into your hair and roughly pulls you back, letting his softening cock fall free. You gasp for breath, coughing as you choke down the last remnants of his seed. Lips trembling, your eyes search his face for what you so desperately need...and you find it.
His lids are heavy over his eyes, mere glistening slips of midnight visible as they gleam down at you; his beautiful lips are parted as he pants, the honey planes of chest glistening with sweat where his shirt fails to obscure it.
He's breathless and sated and glorious, and you bask under the intensity of his gaze. He releases his hold on your collar and lets the leash clatter to the ground, bringing his hands to your face. He cups your cheeks, brushing his thumbs over the streaks of tears.
"So, fucking good for me," he mutters shakily, his brow drawn, "Such a pretty, perfect little brat."
Your eyes slip shut under his words of praise. You could move mountains if he asked you to, you were certain. In this moment, in this space, anything for this man. Everything.
You feel his hands leave your face as he moves to help you stand, before tugging his briefs back into place.
The heat of the moment past, you become acutely aware of the stinging soreness in your knees as you struggle to your feet – and the sticky ache of persistent hunger throbbing between your thighs. You teeter on your heels as blood rushes to your lower legs.
Smiling, he reaches out and pulls you to him gently by the waist, swiping a thumb over your chin.
"You were a good girl, baby. So, so good," He coos in a husky whisper. "You remember what good girls get, hm?" He's still calling the shots and demanding answers, but his eyes are soft as they regard you.
"A reward?" you answer hopefully.
He hums in assent.
"That's right, baby. That's right," He brushes at the smeared makeup under your eye. "But let's get that messy little face cleaned up first."
After unfastening your collar he sits you down on the bed, bringing makeup wipes to gently dab away the proof of your efforts, and offers you a bottle of cool water. He comes to sit beside you, eyes tracking you attentively as you drink.
"Want Hoseok to take care of that needy little pussy?" he asks, with a smirk.
"Fuck yes," you breath as you lower the bottle from your mouth.
He arches a brow, and you purse your lips in an attempt not to grin.
"Please," you add in correction.
"Mmm," he acknowledges thoughtfully, turning to gaze over his shoulder at the spider plant hanging from the ceiling a few feet past the other side of the bed.
"Does my little girl want to try something new?" he asks, his eyes still on the suspended planter.
You feel your pulse quicken and stomach twist in anticipation.
"Yes, Hoseok, I trust you," you respond without reserve.
He flicks his eyes to your face, brows drawing together. He wets his lips and huffs out a breathy laugh.
"You have no goddamned idea what you do to me when you say shit like that."
You look away, smiling brightly as you preen under the heat and affection of his gaze.
He reaches for your hand and guides you to rise to your feet.
"Alright, ditch the dress," he orders, gesturing with a flick of his chin as he leans back on his hands and spreads his thighs in a posture of recline.
You step back to give yourself space, already weak in the knees at the prospect of stripping for him. You steel your composure, a spark of boldness lighting in your belly. Taking a few steps away and turning from him, you look back over your shoulder to watch his face as you reach behind to slowly drag the zipper down your back. You make a slow, sensual show of peeling the garment from your body to reveal a lacy black balconette bra and matching thong. Stepping out of the dress and tossing it away, in nothing but your lingerie and stilettos, you stride back to stand patiently before him.
He leans forward and runs his hands up the sides of your thighs until they reach your hips where they slide back to squeeze the meat of your ass.
You bring your hands gingerly to his shoulders.
Tugging your body toward him, he draws himself to the edge of the mattress, pulling you between his thighs as he uses his sharp, white teeth to nip along the soft flesh of your belly. He sucks harshly at some places, leaving flushed little souvenirs of claim in his wake. You don't hold back the proof of your pleasure - repaying his ministrations with gasps and low moans as his hands and mouth explore you.
Hoseok raises his face from your skin, his pupils wide as his gaze settles at your breasts.
"Bra off," he commands, squeezing your ass again as you reach back to unfasten the clasp and pull the straps from your arms.
He hisses and grits his teeth, raising greedy hands to knead at your supple flesh, before pulling them away to twist and slap at your nipples.
You groan and throw your head back, relishing in the shocks of sensation – gushing, as if you could ruin your soaked panties any further. As you press your trembling thighs together he glances down at the last remaining vestige of your modesty, lips spreading into a wicked grin.
"You know I can fucking smell it - how wet you are? My god, want you to wear it like a perfume, fuck..." He runs his right hand to rub against the dampness that has the lace clinging to your slit.
The moan you let out is so needy it's practically a sob. Hoseok laughs low in his chest.
Suddenly he’s standing and spinning you around, leading you to the end of the bed. He places your hands on the footboard and instructs you to bend over, sliding your hips back until your ass is on full display. He runs his hands over the bare flesh of your cheeks.
"Now," he growls, "Can't fuck this ass until it's properly marked, can we?"
You swallow and let out a whine. The blood is already rushing to your head in a familiar surge and in the split second of silence before impact, you know what's coming - the anticipation somehow even more intoxicating when you remember how it feels when he...
Smack!
You whimper, your fingers gripping the bed frame as he delivers blow after searing blow. When he has satisfied himself with the flushed tone streaking the globes of your ass, he gives it a final squeeze, commanding you to wait where you are.
You hear him as he moves to the side of the bed to pull an object from beneath it. He seems to be grappling with something - the clink of metal and soft rustle of leather interrupting the sudden heavy hush. He returns to your side, taking your hands from the bed and bringing you to stand. As he leads you to the far side of the bed, you see it: hanging from the large hook in the ceiling that once bore the spider plant there is a large leather contraption. You've never seen one in real life, but you know what it is.
"You have a sex swing?" you murmur in awe, momentarily forgetting yourself as you reach out to brush your fingers over the soft leather. There are buckle straps at different places and a metal bar running across the top. He lightly grips your waist, turning you to face him again. He dips his head forward and you inhale the cool mint of his breath.
"Gonna put you in it," he murmurs, "You remember our word, right?"
"Yes," you breathe.
“Say it.”
“Foxglove.”
He smirks.
"Good girl. Panties off," he instructs.
You couldn't be more eager to pull the sopping fabric down your legs and toss it aside, but when you reach to remove your shoes, he catches your wrist.
"I didn't say you could take those off, did I?" he reprimands, and your pulse begins to hammer in your throat.
He’s gonna fucking strap you to this thing in your goddamned heels.
You comply with him as he helps you into the seat, fastening your wrists together to a strap that has them raised above your head. After securing your hands, he raises your legs, carefully stretching them so that your feet are on the outside of the wide set cables, hooking your heels to catch on the bar across the top to hold your legs, spread wide, in place. With each restriction he checks in, making sure you’re completely comfortable with his choices.
When he finishes he comes to stand before you, heaving out a sigh through his nose as he trails a hand down the back of your thigh.
"Look at you," he groans as his eyes rake over your body.
You can feel your pussy leaking. Your heart pounds. The muscles in your legs strain a bit from the stretch and the bindings nip into your wrists and feet. You are completely exposed to him...and it is utter perfection. Like you were made to be at his mercy. You blink up at him through the fuzzy haze that keeps intensifying as you relinquish yourself deeper and deeper into his control.
His eyes slip shut for a moment and he gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head before bringing his lips to graze against the back of your calf.
"Hoseok..." you whisper, trembling.
His eyes open and lock with yours. You hold each other's gaze in silence.
Nothing needs to be said - you both know. You both understand.
He unbuttons his shirt and slips it off, and after discarding his briefs he is as naked as you are. With one hand he grips your leg, slipping two fingers of the other to slide through the swollen, sticky folds of your cunt. You cry out, your pelvis shuddering - so ripe to be touched that the contact sends a shock like an electric pulse through your being.
"What a pretty fucking pussy...so desperate for me," he mutters.
You watch his beautiful fingers as they slip through your glistening lips and over your throbbing clit before he pulls his hand up. He lets it hover in the air for a moment before bringing it down with a harsh smack against your mound.
A scream strangles in your throat as he repeats the motion again. Your whole body shakes with arousal.
He clenches his jaw as he trails his fingers down to your aching hole, dipping in shallowly to gather your bountiful slick. He raises his fingers to his lips, tasting you as he watches you tremble beneath him. He withdraws them with a pop.
"You know how much you like that? Getting this little cunt slapped?" His eyes trail down. "You're dripping down your fucking ass."
Shuddering violently, you whimper, tugging impatiently at your restraints.
"Yah," he warns, and you still. "Guess you're ready for me, huh? Just like that day..." He smirks condescendingly. "You're always ready, aren't you?" He hisses. "Need me so fucking badly...all of the time."
You sob as your walls contract again and again. He takes his cock into his hand and slides it through your folds, teasing the tip over your clit.
It's euphoric, but it's not enough. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip as you fight your own desperate need until the copper taste of blood seeps across your tongue. Somehow, it doesn't even hurt – you can't feel anything past the need for him to fill you. You feel his tip prod your entrance and you gasp.
“Look at me," he rasps.
Your eyes snap open. Your legs are shaking, vibrating the entire apparatus as he finally, slowly, sinks into your wet heat. The stretch of him is exquisite, and your eyes roll back in your head as he groans, steadily pulling back to push into you again.
“Shiiiiiitttt…” he hisses through his teeth, “Fucking made for me. Does my little brat like that? Hoseok’s cock stuffing that tight little cunt?”
“M-more…p-please…” you mewl, nearly unable to even form the words as his ridges drag deliciously along your taught walls.
You're so incredibly worked up that already you can feel a climax building in your belly, and he's only just started to fuck you. Unable to touch him any other way, you squeeze around him tightly.
He lets out a grunt, picking up his pace as he uses the mobility of the swing to pound you onto his cock.
You cry out, your head rattling against the leather as stroke after stroke sends you hurtling toward your high. Your mouth hangs open, and your vision begins to blur at the edges, the position of your arms making it harder to breathe. It’s going put you over the edge. He catches your glazed stare.
"Don't you fucking cum until I say," he grits out breathlessly, and you let out a wail, head falling back.
You can feel yourself barely holding on as he slams into you, teetering on the edge as you hear his voice.
"Whose little whore are you?"
You try to speak but the words won't rattle out of your chest.
"Whose?" he booms.
"Yours!" you press out in a sob.
"Who do you kneel for?"
"You!"
"Who owns this pussy?"
"Y-you!"
"And who the fuck am I?"
"HOSEOK!"
"Cum, slut." he growls.
...And you free-fall through time and space.
The summer evening air is warm against your skin as you step out under the rose gold twilight. Behind you the chic dining venue is still abustle, and you wave coworkers a fond farewell as they head off to continue the evening with karaoke. It's been a big day for you, and there's someone you've been waiting to talk to.
You press the green call button and wait as the line rings.
"Yeoboseyo?"
The warm voice on the other end has a smile blooming on your lips.
"Hey, Hobi-ssi!" you hum.
"Hey hey!" he chrips, "What's up?"
"Oh, nothing," you respond casually, "Just got done with a company dinner. Someone got a promotion, so we all went out."
There's a pause on the other end.
"Oh," answers slowly, "That one you put in for?"
"Mhm."
You hear him scoff in amusement
"Well, at least you seem to be taking it well."
"I'd say I'm taking it extremely well, which is only natural, considering I got the job."
"Yes, well...wait, YOU WHAT?!"
You pull the phone momentarily away from your ear as his joyful, raucous laughter blasts through the speaker.
"You're gonna make me go deaf!" You chide. Your smile is brighter than the setting sun.
"I'm so proud of you."
"Thanks, Hobi."
"You should celebrate!"
"I did go out with my work friends...but..."
"You should come over," he interjects.
The register of his voice has changed. You recognize the new one.
"Yeah?" you swallow, as your heart rate quickens. "Well...what if I do want to go to karaoke?"
You wait for his response, watching your ride share pull up to the curb.
"Yah - you gonna be a good girl…”
You hold your breath.
“...Or do I have to make you?"
-FIN-
#hoseok fic#oneshot#bts oneshot#hoseok smut#hoseok imagine#hobi x reader#hobi smut#hobi x y/n#jhope smut#jhope fanfic#jhope x reader#jhope x you#jhope x y/n#jhope imagine#bts imagines#bts smut#bts x reader#fic: make me
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Where Do Broken Hearts Go - Chapter 5 (18+)
Pairing: Model, ex-boyfriend!Jungkook X Child psychologist, Fem!Reader X Lawyer, Single Dad!Hoseok.
Summary: Jungkook stripped your emotions naked, left you bare in the chilly wind of despair and self-doubt with an unending heartache. You tried your hardest to move on from him, to live for yourself but failed miserably. Each night you had to come back to your empty home where memories and broken dreams were scattered all around the floor, until one day a little angel and her unbelievably beautiful father came into your life. Finally, when you find yourself healing, maybe falling too, Jungkook had to show up! Again!
Theme: Angst, pining, heartbreak, break-up, smut
Warnings: Mentions of school bullying, multiple pov changes, drinking, makeout
Word count: 4.4k+
Taglist requests are closed.
Minors and karens are not allowed in this blog
A/N: Finally!! They are kisssssinnngggg!!!
Main Masterlist
Chapters:-
Prologue/Masterpost || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 - Finale
Jungkook should have headed home.
He knows he should have received Jiwon’s calls and replied to her messages at least once to confirm that he is alive.
But he couldn’t.
He couldn't think of anything else after seeing you with another man, the man that you referred to as a special client earlier. He knows he has no right to invade your personal boundaries now, but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be curious or worried about you.
What if you are wasting your life away trying to move on from him, what if your client (that didn’t look like only a client) is a pervert?
He should be there for you. you are, afterall, much more than just his ex-girlfriend to him.
That’s exactly what brought him to your (once shared) apartment. Even though the decision is induced by two bottles of soju and three cigarettes in a row, he doesn't regret.
Jungkook rehearses his lines again and again. He drew a mindmap of what conversations to initiate with you once he charges straight up to your door. But even before he could head near the entryway - he sees you getting out of the same car that picked you up from Jimin’s.
And it’s the same man that had touched you in a way he doesn’t approve of.
He lights another cigarette as he watches the scene upfolds one after another in front of him. That man says something, you reply to him, he takes a step towards you, you take a step back, he leans down and you don’t stop him.
Jungkook’s blood starts boiling. He throws the cigarette away and surges forward to stop whatever is going on but the car window slides down and if he is not wrong then it’s a kid who talks to the man standing with you.
Are you flirting with a married guy now? Are you that desperate to move on? To forget him?
Before he can understand anything, he sees you bidding them goodbye and walking away. The car leaves a little later.
Your face still feels hot.
For a moment you believe that all of it is a dream. There is no way Hoseok said it’s impossible to fall out of love with you. There is no way he admitted that he could do anything to make you his. There is no freaking way he was seconds away from kissing you!
All of it is happening too fast. It’s been roughly four weeks since you met him. And it’s been a month and half since Jungkook broke up with you.
Aren’t you moving on too fast? Are you really attracted to Hoseok or is he just a suitable rebound to you?
These questions plague your mind. You grip your hair out of frustration.
Hoseok can never be a rebound. That won’t be justified to him or to the kindness he has been treating you with.
But the way you felt nervous and breathless around him a few minutes ago, the way his dark eyes managed to make you want him shamelessly - not all of it was because you desperately want to move on from your ex-boyfriend, is it?
The doorbell rings loudly in your empty apartment and you realize you are still sitting on the couch and you haven’t even changed.
The clock says it’s 7:40 pm and you frown at that. You wouldn’t have visitors on a Saturday during this hour. So it might be your grocery that you placed an order for just this morning.
Getting up from the couch, you take slow steps towards the door and the bell rings once again. The delivery guy must be in a hurry, so you scream a little “coming” as you take the doorknob in your hands and open the door.
And your head starts spinning all at once.
“What are you doing here?” You ask the man standing at your door. The same man who broke your heart six weeks ago. The words come out with less surprise and more anger.
“I- uh- I need to pack rest of my stuff…” he pauses, visibly struggling with his words, “can I come in?”
You sigh, a long one, as you open the door wider for him to come in.
Today is indeed a bad day. You wanted to avoid him once and you ended up coming across twice.
Shutting the door loudly enough, you look at Jungkook. He looks restless. He is still wearing the same clothes you saw him in earlier, so he might not have headed home since then. The strong smell of soju and cigarettes highents your suspicion.
He looks back at you, with big, doe, glossy eyes. Once you felt unbelievably weak for them but now you feel numb. The moisture in those dark orbs does nothing to worry or unsettle you.
You wait for him to say something or to head inside your (once shared) bedroom and pack up whatever stuff he had left behind. But he does nothing. He stands there staring at you as you do the same.
You sigh again, “as far as my knowledge goes, you have nothing left to pack. But you can check again, or whatever you please.”
You divert your eyes from him and walk towards the kitchen to pour him a glass of water.
“I know that. I know there’s nothing left.” he finally speaks up, making your head turn towards him through the open space of the kitchen.
You feel anger growing inside you with every passing moment. If he knew then why the fuck did he come? What brings him here at your apartment on a saturday night right when you feel way too much troubled with your feelings and emotions?
But you control it. You are trained to control your emotions during these kinds of situations. So you take in a deep breath and open your mouth to speak again.
“Then may I ask what brings you here, Jungkook? That too in the state of intoxication? If this is about the apartment itself then let me remind you that the lease is in my name and I have already wired you the share you had paid up until the breakup.”
He walks towards you. Standing on the other side of the kitchen counter he says, “I just wanted to see you, Y/N.”
A sarcastic chuckle bubbles in your throat at that.
“We don't really share a relation to see each other frequently, don’t you think so? Besides, you just saw me this afternoon.”
This time Jungkook laughs. Just like yours, his laugh, too, is punctuated with sarcasm. But you don’t know how he can be sarcastic. He is the one who left you, he is the one who has a girlfriend waiting at home for him while he is here at his ex-girlfriend’s house and he is the one who should be guilty, not you.
Suddenly you feel a strong urge to throw the glass full of water on his face. But you calm yourself down again.
“Well, you didn’t even look at me properly. You were so eager to entertain your special client that you basically ran out of Jimin’s place.”
The insides of your mouth taste sour at how Jungkook emphasized the words special client.
“I don’t get it.” your head feels heavy, squeezing your eyes shut tight you continue, “I don’t get why are you here at this hour, having an unnecessary argument about my life?”
“I am not arguing with you.” Jungkook frowns as he manages to protest.
“Okay.” you resign. You know stretching the matter any further will only complicate things and you don’t want that to happen. You don’t want him inside your home or within your 10 meter radius ever again.
Feeling Jungkook’s constant stare on you, you stand straight and try to put an end to whatever is happening right now, “Jungkook, you are drunk. Let me book a cab-”
“Who is he?” your ex-boyfriend cuts you off.
“Who are you talking about?” you can sense jealousy and possessiveness in his voice. And this is something you never liked even when you were together. So, seeing him jealous now because of whatever reason, when he is the one who left you, makes you even more furious.
“That guy you almost kissed a few minutes ago?” the words leave through his gritted teeth, triggering something venomous inside you.
“Does your pretty little actress girlfriend know that you have been following your ex-girlfriend and keeping records of the guys I meet?” you actually grip the glass now, ready to throw the water on Jungkook’s face if he says another word out of line.
“You didn’t answer me, Y/N. Who was he?” Jungkook stands his ground, stubborn to show his non-existent rights on you.
“That’s. None. Of. Your. Business.” The words come out low but coated with anger. You fail to recognize yourself.
Jungkook comes closer to the kitchen counter and lodges himself between the stools. Only the thin kitchen island is separating the two of you.
Two months ago, you yearned to have him at this proximity at least. Ironically enough, now you hate it.
“It is. It is my business if you are flirting with a married guy just to move on from me! I should.. I should step in.”
And that’s it. That was the last nail in the coffin.
You pour the water on his head without waiting for a second more.
He closes his eyes with a visible tick in his jaw as the cold water runs down from his hair down to his face, gradually wetting his clothes.
“Come out of your dream, Jeon Jungkook. The world doesn’t revolve around you. My life, my choices, my decisions - nothing, you impact nothing! You aren’t worth my thoughts or my tears anymore. Do you get that?” you spat at his face.
Jungkook stands still. The change in your level-headed demeanor took him by surprise, it seems. However, his gaze softens, jaw relaxes soon. Maybe it’s the cold water or maybe his conscience decided to make a comeback now.
Running a hand through his now dripping hair, Jungkook tries to establish his point again, “Y/N, I am sorry. I am just worried about you. That guy has a kid-”
“I will give you two minutes to leave, Jungkook. If you fail to do so I am going to call your manager.” You garb a kitchen towel and throw it on his face, “or worse… the paparazzi.” with that you leave him hanging awkwardly at the dining space making a beeline for your bedroom for some solace.
“Jungkook! Where have you been? Have you checked your phone? I have been texting and calling you? Are you alright? Did anything happen? Why are you soaked? Jungkook? Fucking answer me!”
Jungkook’s head pounds more and more with every single word that comes out of Jiwon’s mouth.
He is still processing whatever happened tonight. But the alcohol level in his blood makes it almost impossible to form a coherent chain of thoughts. Jiwon, too, keeps throwing questions at him, pushing him towards the edge of losing his cool.
Somehow managing to get out of his heavy boots, he trudges towards the couch and flops down, completely ignoring his girlfriend’s questions and presence.
“Jungkook, please tell me. Did something bad happen? Where were you all day?” She sits at the end of the couch, by his leg, her voice is slightly less hyper than it was a minute ago.
“At Jimin’s” Jungkook whispers briefly as he covers his face with one of his forearm. He needs to rest. He needs to provide his mind and heart with a break after everything those went through today. But as soon as he closes his eyes, your face is what he sees.
He has never seen you as angry as today. In those three years he spent with you, there were fallouts and arguments but never once you were as furious as you were today. You used to be either silent or passive aggressive before, but today you attacked him directly. There was fire in your eyes and venom in your voice. You even poured cold water on him.
He knows he was unreasonable today. He knows he pushed all of your buttons. But what he doesn’t know is why he is hurting.
He fell out of love with you. He, now, loves someone else.
Then why on earth the prospect of you dating another man hurts him this much. Why couldn't he stop himself from acting unreasonable today? Why did he show up at your place and make a scene when it shouldn’t be his business to interrogate who you are dating.
Jiwon shakes his body and he realizes that his sleeves are now wet with his tears.
Fuck! Why am I crying? Jungkook thinks as he tries to sit up.
“You weren’t with Jimin. He said you left after lunch. And it’s 9 pm now.” sniffing carefully, Jiwon adds, “and you are drunk.”
“Yeah. I went for a drink later on.” Jungkook sighs.
“Okay. But how did you get wet?” Jiwon throws her next question.
“Can you please shut it, Jiwon?” the shout comes out of his throat involuntarily, so much so that it even takes himself by surprise. But he does nothing to conceal his bubbling annoyance, not even when he sees Jiwon’s eyes growing glossy.
“I am sorry. I was just worr-”
“I am sorry, too, Jiwon! I am sorry for not responding to your calls and messages and for shouting at you now but-” he sighs, feeling defeated, “but can you please leave me alone? I need to rest.”
“Yeah, alright.” Jiwon gets up from her seat and walks towards the bedroom.
Jungkook can feel her stopping in the middle of her tracks, turning towards him.
“But if it’s about her, then… you need to fix yourself as soon as possible.”
Jungkook doesn’t answer that.
Sunday and Monday go in a blur.
You somehow feel way better after kicking Jungkook out of your apartment. A little, angelic part of you regrets being rude to him, especially for pouring cold water on his head.
You could have handled the situation better, like the adult you are. On top of that, you are a psychologist. You should have acted more wisely.
But the bigger part of you is satisfied.
You accepted everything when he said he fell for someone else. You did let him go knowing that there is no point of holding someone on when their heart isn’t with you anymore.
But you couldn’t accept his unreasonable possessiveness or the way he shamelessly showed up at your place and especially the way he talked about you and Hoseok.
So in conclusion, Jungkook deserved it.
And you feel good about it.
After a while everything seems to be falling in place. You are starting to heal, you are getting attracted to someone very appealing, you had only two clients left, one of which just had her last counseling with you today.
Another one is Sua, and you have a very good feeling about her too.
Tonight you decided to treat yourself a little. Lightening a lavender scented candle and choosing an over-expensive sheet mask to pamper your face, you lie down on your bed.
For once you decide to think about absolutely nothing. You want to let your mind float and see where it lands.
Your eyes close. The wet, cold sensation from the sheet mask feels too good on your face and you try to focus on that only.
But bam!
As soon as you let your thoughts flutter, those decide you paint a particular face with heart shaped smile, dark, warm and mysterious eyes, and a lithe body that you want on yours-
And your phone rings.
An annoyed groan leaves your lips!
“Why the fuck did I leave it on ring?” grabbing the phone from the night stand you scream at yourself.
But your annoyance dies as soon as you see the intruder's name on the screen.
It’s Hoseok.
You gulp, smoothing your voice that went hoarse with the scream, and then you pick it up tapping the speaker icon.
“Hey, Y/N” his smooth voice fills your ear. A smile creeps to your lips without your knowledge, “Is this the right time to talk to you? I didn’t disturb you, did I?”
His unsure voice cut through the little bit of hurt that you have been feeling after experiencing radio since from his side after whatever happened on Saturday.
“No, you didn’t. Tell me what’s up? Is Sua alright?” You try to keep your voice professional. And professionally he shouldn’t call you past business hours if it’s not an emergency.
“Yeah, she’s fine. She’s better actually. We went grocery shopping yesterday and she was a lot more talkative. Thanks for everything.”
“Eh. I’m not going to discount you even if you keep thanking me.”
He laughs at that, making you feel lightheaded with the sound.
“I have a favor to ask, actually.” hoseok says, as the laugh dies down.
“Yeah. Tell me.”
“Sua’s homeroom teacher has called for a PTA on wednesday and I have decided to let her know everything. But I don’t think I will be able to handle the situation wisely since I can’t keep my anger in check when it comes to her. So….”
“So?”
“So, could you please join me? Since you are her doctor you will be able to do it better.”
You stay silent. The idea of joining Hoseok to his daughter’s PTA meeting feels too intimate. Even though you know you are going just as her doctor.
“It’s totally alright if you don’t want to. I know this might not be under your responsibilities and I am sor-”
“I will join you. You can text me the time and address, right?”
“Yeah sure. Sure, I can.”
You can feel his smile on the other side of the line.
It doesn’t take you a minute to spot Hoseok and his luxurious sleek car. And you feel your breath caught in your throat yet again.
How can a man be so attractive? He is handsome indeed but the aura of authority that he exudes knocks you off your socks each and every time you see him.
When your eyes meet, he is still on the phone. For a moment you wonder, if it’s the woman Mina or not.
“Hi… Thanks for coming.” Hoseok voices, cutting the call. His dark eyes bore into yours. You can see his Adam's apple bobbing as he quickly checks you out from head to toe.
Fuck! Did you overdress yourself?
“Again, hoseok, I get paid for doing this.” you add a little playfully making him chuckle.
This time, you check him out.
He has chosen to wear a black turtleneck today, tucked inside tight black slacks, along with a black blazer.
Miraculously enough, you have chosen to wear a black wrap dress. And you two look nothing short of a grim reaper couple today.
You chuckle to yourself at the thought.
“Do I? Do I look funny?” Hoseok asks in surprise.
You wave your hands desperately to dismiss his thoughts, “No no. It's just that we look like a grim reaper couple today. Dressed in all black.”
“Oh” hoseok laughs lightly, “but a couple regardless.”
You lose both of your mind and heart at his statement.
The meeting went smoother than you expected it to.
Obviously, the homeroom teacher couldn’t find her voice when you handed her Sua’s counseling reports.
Even though she once tried to defend herself when Hoseok told her that she should have focused on Sua better, that she should have monitored her behavior and informed him if she was being quieter than usual. But she acknowledged her carelessness when you pointed out all the behavioral changes that were easy for a teacher to spot.
She decided to talk to Jaemin and her parents personally and let you and Hoseok know of the outcome. And she also promised to take special care of Sua and transfer Jaemin to a different section to keep him away.
“Do you think that kid and his parents will understand his mistakes?” Hoseok asks as you two walk through the corridor.
“They should but that depends a lot on what kind of people they are. Since Jaemin is as old as Sua, it’s impossible for him to develop the concept of an illegitimate child by himself. He must have heard that somewhere, most likely from his mother. Even though it’s just my assumption, if that’s the case then his parents need to be schooled as well.”
“Then we will need to meet them personally.”
“Yes, if that kid refuses to leave Sua alone, we will have to meet them personally. And I will try my best to make them reflect on their mistakes, don’t worry.” you add briskly, stepping out of the school building. “I’ll take my leave now, bye.”
“No wait.” Hoseok holds your forearm, even though you haven’t moved an inch or tried to walk away from him.
The foreground is full of parents but it seems like no one is paying you any attention, so you try to relax yourself at his touch.
Hoseok eases too and lets his hand fall by his side, “do you have any plans for this evening?”
“No. I don’t.” Your heart starts beating loudly. Is he going to ask you out or something?
“It’s almost 3:30 now and I assume you have had your lunch already. So, why don’t you have dinner with me and Sua? I am gonna pick her up from noona’s place on our way home.” Hoseok proposes.
You think it through for a while. Dinner? At his place? Will you be alive by the end of the day?
“I don’t think-”
“Please, Y/N? Please?” Hoseok pleads, stepping towards you.
“Okay then.” you let your resistance fall limp on the feet of your emotions.
Hoseok is not a good cook but he knows how not to mess simple things up. So he sticks to the basics - Kimchi fried rice and samgyeopsal, accompanied by all the banchan his mom and sister send him every week.
He knows he needs to focus on the vegetables while chopping those but he can’t keep his eyes from wandering towards you.
You look so bold and beautiful today. The black wrap dress is perfectly professional yet too sexy. He wants to undo that tie and let the dress fall on your feet to discover whatever wonders you are hiding underneath.
You giggle with Sua. Both of you are coloring something while you engage her in a casual conversation.
Hoseok’s heart warms at the scene.
This is what he always wanted. A small family, a mother-figure for sua and a partner for himself. But he knows he doesn’t deserve you. Why would you want a single father like him when you could have bachelors lining for you.
But then again, you didn’t stop him when he was about to kiss you that day. You accepted his invitation even though Namjoon mentioned you to be strictly professional. And now you are at his house, sitting in his dining room, playing with her daughter as he cooks for the three of you in the kitchen.
Is he being too greedy?
“You have got a beautiful balcony here.” You mutter staring at the sight ahead.
“Really? Thank you.” Hoseok comes to stand beside you, handing you the glass of wine.
“Yeah. your house, too, is very clean and organized, which is very rare for single parents, especially single fathers. It tells of the fact that you are, as a person, very sorted out.” You complete before taking a sip from your glass.
Hoseok’s eyes are fixed on your side profile. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps staring at how gorgeous you are.
Then you turn your face towards him, giving him a lazy smile, you say “What? Am I wrong?”
“No. Not at all. About cleanliness though, Sua helps a lot. Even though she is only seven, she knows how to keep things at their places. She’s truly much more mature than the kids of her age.” he smiles at the thought of her daughter.
You smile too, remembering how she fell asleep keeping her head on your lap earlier.
“Sua is very tired today.” you whisper.
“Yeah she is. She never slept before having her dessert. She is definitely very tired today.” Hoseok nods in agreement.
“Do you know why she is tired?”
“Why?”
“Because she played around after a long time. She told me that she became friends with her hoobaes and taught them how to play red light, green light.”
“What? Really?”
“Yeah. She is getting better, Hoseok.” you finally turn towards the man fully and find him way too close to keep a respectable distance between two bodies.
Hoseok, though, is loving the proximity. He wants to have you close, right now… forever.
“And a lot of credit for that… goes to you. You are such an exceptionally great dad.” You smile up at him. Your heart is wilding inside your rib cage and you want to know if Hoseok is feeling the same.
“What about me as a man in general?” Hoseok whispers, starting to lean down. You are irresistible and he doesn’t know how to control himself anymore.
“That’s not under my diagnosis. I need to find that out personally. But my work ethic won’t allow me.” you let the words out of your mouth. But your body completely deceives you as you close whatever distance your bodies had left in between.
The moment your body touches his, your eyes meet his pair, which are now hazy with lust, Hoseok loses it.
“Fuck ethics” you hear him curse before his mouth crashes yours. His free hand winds around your waist, pulling you closer. You kiss him back instantly.
Two pairs of lips mold perfectly against each other.
Hoseok kisses you relentlessly, as if he has been hungry for your lips for a long time now. His hand holds you tightly to keep you in your place.
Your free hand grabs him by his neck, kissing him with just as much urgency.
He sucks your lower lip as you do the same with his upper one. Soon his tongue finds its way inside your mouth, testing every corner.
You moan in his mouth when you feel his hands diving down to your ass and giving it a pleasant squeeze.
“Stay the night?” Hoseok whispers parting for a bit, as a string of saliva connects both of your lips.
Taglist 1:-
@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @xjoonchildx @justmewondering-recs @cuteipat @miakey98 @purpleanchorcrown @chimmisbae @ane102 @junniesoleilkth @terjeonbebas @kookssecret @appleh4ad @kayleeshinee @whoa-jo @definetlythinkimanalien @lovelgirl22 @agrika
Taglist 2:-
@llallaaa @mikrokookiex @parkinglot-nights @hiqhkey @diamonddia-mond @00frenchfries00 @koalasandcuddles @superchamchi88 @ttanniett @coralmusicblaze @multiasf @kookscumrag @sumzysworld @knjjjk @xtrataerrestrial @survivalistghost @kelsyx33 @aann95 @btsffreader92 @jjk174 @dragonflygurl4 @xwniazx
#bts angst#bts smut#jungkook angst#jungkook smut#hoseok angst#hoseok smut#bts x reader#jungkook x reader#hoseok x reader#bts fanfiction#jungkook fanfic#hoseok scenarios#jhope angst#jhope smut
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Helping Hands
Summary: Seokjin makes a suggestion without realising its consequences. Yoongi tries to help but faces resistance. Hoseok skips dance rehearsal. Jungkook gets involved against his will.
Pairing: Seokjin x OC, Yoongi x OC, Hoseok x OC, minor Namjoon x OC (different OCs)
Genre: Mild humour, awkwardness, tension, angst
Word count: 14.1 K
Rating: 18+
Warnings: language, alcohol, kissing, dubious sexual harassment
A/N: It's been a whole month since the last fic; I feel like I've been reborn as I format this post. Hope you all enjoy this - it's a lot of chaos and movement of plot. Enjoy and let me know what you think!
You will all be pleased to know that I have once again not edited this fic. Takes place approximately two months after Touch, three months after Near Misses, and about four months after Tea and Olive (and about a month after Final Destination).
Tagging: @bbl32@ quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive @faearchives @margopinkerton @dreaming-with-happiness @confessionsofamarshlily @purpleseoul7 @sumzysworld
Listen to: "mr brightside" by the killers
seokjin masterlist | yoongi masterlist | hoseok masterlist | main masterlist
Chaeyoung [19:10]
Big Hit lobby. SOS.
Something catches in Hoseok’s chest. Suddenly, Seokjin’s struggles with a combination don’t seem as worrisome.
“I’ll be right back,” he says shortly, picking up his jacket and racing down the hallway to the lifts, ignoring Namjoon calling his name.
Hoseok hurries into the lobby and scans the area, noting that nothing seems to look out of place. He spots her then; she’s by the sofas in the waiting area, standing on one hip and frowning mildly at her phone in one hand. The other hand is absently playing with the corner of a sparkly pink scarf around her neck.
He walks up to her, his heart already slowing slightly. “Chae,” he says, mostly to snap her out of her laser gaze at her phone.
She looks up at him and her face breaks out into a grin. “Oppa, hi!” she exclaims brightly. “What’s up?”
“What’s -” He shakes his head. “What do you mean? Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she says, nodding. “Why?”
“Because -” Hoseok frowns, fishing his phone out of his pocket and finding her text, wondering wildly if he’d imagined this. “Did you send me this?” he asks, turning the screen to her. “SOS?”
Chaeyoung raises her eyebrows and nods in understanding. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. The receptionist wouldn’t let me upstairs to see you without having to sign in and I needed to find a way to bring you down here immediately. I’m taking the bus home and it’s going to be here in, like, ten minutes.” She shrugs in a what-are-you-going-to-do kind of way.
Hoseok stares at her incredulously. “Are you kidding me right now? I just had a heart attack.”
“Why?”
“Because you said SOS! Save - Our - Souls!” he exclaims, clapping his hands to punctuate each word. “I thought something was wrong. I thought you were -” Here, he catches himself and forces himself to take a deep breath. “Forget it. What do you want?”
Chaeyoung doesn’t answer right away. She looks somewhat uncertain, as though just realising her harmless trick might have backfired. “I, uh…” She clears her throat and rummages in her tote bag. “I brought you a coffee,” she says, bringing out a clear glass with brown liquid and ice cubes rattling inside it. “It’s an Americano,” she adds, stretching her hand out to him until he takes it.
Hoseok stares. “And?”
“And -” She dives into her tote bag again, this time revealing a baby blue cardboard box. “- a muffin!”
His eyes dart from her face to the muffin and back to her. “I’m on tour. I can’t eat sugar.”
“Oh, it’s a sugar-free muffin.”
“Really?”
“Yes. Probably. I don’t know.” She sighs and Hoseok hopes she’s finally getting to the point. “Can we - can we talk somewhere a little more private?”
He struggles not to roll his eyes. “Okay,” he says drily, turning around and leading them to a meeting room inside a corridor behind the main lobby. He pushes the glass door open and holds it for her to skip inside, before closing it behind him. The white lights turn on automatically and the projector screen blinks to life.
“Alright,” he says, placing the coffee on the table and sighing. “What was so important that you needed to trick me into leaving rehearsal midway?”
“Okay,” she begins, placing her hands on the table and licking her lips. They are a glossy pink, notices Hoseok, looking light and natural yet perfectly made up. Maybe they’re pinker against her skin, or it’s the lighting.
“- have a proposal for you. Oppa?”
Hoseok starts, realising he’s missed what she’s said while being distracted by the colour of her lips. Mortified, he clears his throat. “Sorry,” he mutters shortly, shaking his head. “Uh, I haven’t… slept. What did you say?”
She frowns but nods. “I was saying… do you remember when Chanyeol threw his fifteenth birthday party at our house and when all of you were playing Truth or Dare and I tried to join in, you said that the game was only for people without braces and then I ran away and cried in my bedroom?”
He stares at her, dumbfounded. “I… what?”
Chaeyoung raises her eyebrows. “I’m not making this up. This actually happened.”
“No, I - I remember. Oh, God,” he mutters, his neck starts to heat up with embarrassment. “Why are you bringing this up now?”
“And,” she continues, on a roll apparently, “remember when one of your idiot classmates sneaked in peppermint schnapps and even though I saw you all drinking, I still didn’t rat you out even after you were a jerk to me?”
Hoseok chokes, wishing the ground would swallow him up. “Is this why you showed up here? To remind me of my shameful past?”
“No, actually. I came here to give you a chance to redeem yourself.”
“Okayyy.”
“And to very generously unburden you of the plus-one you have for the three Michelin star restaurant opening at the St Regis tomorrow night at six pm, hosted by Marco Pierre White,” she adds seamlessly.
Hoseok stares at her for a moment before chuckling. “Wow, that was worth the journey. You bought a coffee and a muffin for that?” he asks, rolling his eyes.
Chaeyoung squeezes her eyes shut and clasps her hands in front of her chest. “Please, oppa? Please, please, please, please -”
“You want to be my date to an event?”
“No, I don’t want to be your date - I want to be a plus-one. Just - just allow me entry into the event and I’ll leave you alone after that,” she promises. “You won’t even remember I’m there.”
Fat chance of that. But he doesn’t say it, opting to take a minuscule bite of the muffin and let her continue on her spiel.
“Look,” she sighs through her nose. “This is for work. I need content, okay? The last few stories I’ve submitted have been nothing special,” she says. “Those are the actual words my boss used: nothing special. And the other two in my team - one is the son of a CEO and the other is the literal niece of the editor. The only person I have is you,” she finishes.
He raises his eyebrows. “Me?”
“Yes! And if I get to cover this -” She lets out a low breath. “It’ll be everything. It’s super exclusive so it’ll be luxury, it’ll be art, culture, music, business. It’ll be everything,” she repeats, her eyes huge and wide and pleading. “I really need this, oppa, please, please?”
Something feels like it’s being squeezed in Hoseok’s heart and he resists the urge to pinch her cheeks. He sighs hugely and closes his eyes, wondering how the hell he went from barely being able to stand her to being on the verge of inventing a plus-one for her if needed.
“Oh, my God.” Chaeyoung gasps suddenly, her cheeks reddening. “You’ve already used your plus-one, haven’t you?”
“No! No - no, I haven’t,” he answers, shaking his head. “And… fine. I’ll take you.”
She freezes for a second, then breaks out into a grin. “Really? Oh - thank you, oppa!” she exclaims in delight, reaching forward and hugging him before stepping back and clapping her hands. “It was the coffee, wasn’t it?”
“That - that helped,” he agrees, reeling slightly in the flowery scent.
“And I promise you won’t even know I’m there,” she reiterates. “I’ll get there on time - I’ll take the bus. Just give my name to the door or whatever and I’ll get there myself and I won’t bother you at all.”
“You don’t have to do that,” he tells her, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at her dramatics. “There won’t be any cameras inside so you’ll be fine.”
Chaeyoung shrugs and beams. “Either way. I owe you big time. Or not, actually,” she adds suddenly. “You know, because of the whole… schnapps and braces thing.”
“Yes, I remember,” he says quickly, his face heating up again. “We’re even.”
“Okay, great. See you tomorrow!” She hugs him again before gathering her stuff and heading to the door. “Thanks again!”
Hoseok watches her leave through the glass doors, his stomach floating. A moment later, he picks up the muffin and takes a large bite of it and scoffs inwardly. Chocolate.
He takes a second bite and heads back up to practice.
—
Seokjin takes advantage of the few minutes that Hoseok has disappeared and lies down on the floor of the practice room, spread-eagled. All he can hear are the sounds of his heart pounding from the intense cardio, his heavy breathing and the blood pumping in his ears.
“Hyung.” A foot nudges his shoulder. “Do the bridge combo with me.”
Seokjin doesn’t even open his eyes. “No.”
“Come on, we need to practice.”
He appreciates the we that Jungkook tactfully tacks on, but shakes his head. “I’m good.”
“Just once.”
“No.”
“Hyung, what about you?” He’s talking to someone else now. Seokjin is too tired to open his eyes and see who it is, but thankfully that person lets himself be known.
“No.”
Yoongi’s answer has a finality to it that Seokjin will never be able to achieve, its biggest achievement being that Jungkook doesn’t ask him a second time. Seokjin opens his eyes a millimeter to see the maknae skip to the other side of the practice room and harass Jimin, watching them for a few seconds before sighing and dragging himself up into a sitting position.
“How great would it be if I sprained my ankle or something right now?” he mutters to Yoongi.
Yoongi doesn’t look away from where Taehyung and Jimin, and now Jungkook, are practicing their routine. “So you can sit out the next couple of days and get some rest?”
“Exactly.”
He shurgs. “Tomorrow is a light day. Ish. Just filming in the morning and the other thing in the evening.”
“Oh, yeah.” Seokjin doesn’t mind it. He’s not looking forward to it, per se, but Seulgi will be there, other friends from the industry will be there and since they won’t be in an English-speaking country, he’s sure to be less self-conscious while making conversation.
“Are you bringing Seulgi?”
Seokjin nods. “I told the company two weeks ago, when they emailed us the invite. I don’t miss the constant follow-ups, believe me,” he sighs, stretching. “Are you bringing anyone?”
Yoongi doesn’t answer for a moment. “I don’t think so,” he says eventually. “I guess I’ll have to tell the company. They’ll make a fuss, though, that I’m telling them at the last moment.”
“Wait, you still have your plus-one?” He waits for Yoongi to nod, just to confirm. “You know who really wants to go? Nari.”
Yoongi raises his eyebrows. “Your Nari?”
“My friend Nari,” he clarifies, having expected this. “But… yeah. I told her about it a couple of days ago and she said she tried to get tickets to it but the handful of public ones sold out in half a day. I mean… obviously, I can’t take her. But if you have an extra and you aren’t doing anything with it…” He trails off, giving Yoongi a meaningful look.
Yoongi frowns mildly. “You’re really okay with that? You, Nari… your girlfriend… together?”
Seokjin bites his lip and looks away. He and Nari had resumed their friendship tentatively - so tentatively that he doesn’t even want to talk about it for fear of jinxing it. He’d decided to give Nari space after that disastrous dinner, utterly confused as to why she was so angry with him all the time and what he was meant to do to make it better. Weeks passed with no contact until it occurred to Seokjin that if he didn’t reach out first, they would potentially never speak again.
It began with a single text; he’d messaged requesting her to wish her parents a happy anniversary. She’d responded hours later with a Sure, but since it was more than Seokjin had expected, he’d used it as a segue to mention her parents’ anniversary party years ago and the conversation continued.
For the first time in his life, Seokjin was glad to be on tour. It provided the right amount of distance while also giving him a valid excuse to miss her - somehow, missing Nari felt like he was being unfair to Seulgi. He didn’t want to talk to any of his friends about it for fear of being right so he kept it restricted to texts as far as possible, something which seemed to suit Nari as well.
He’d been upfront about it with Seulgi; she’d sounded a bit surprised at first but didn’t say much more about it. He knew it couldn’t go on like this forever, though, that they would have to meet sometime. This event seemed as good as anything: Nari actively wanted to go, Seokjin had found a way for that to happen, and there was no pressure on any of them to host.
“It’s an event,” says Seokjin. “It’s not going to be the three of us alone.”
Yoongi nods but doesn’t pry. “Sure. I’ll let Nari know.”
A weight seems to have been lifted from Seokjin’s shoulders. “Thank you.”
Yoongi simply nods, but Seokjin sighs inwardly in relief. He would be seeing Nari again; maybe this would be the beginning of something new. Something different.
—
Nari’s hand jerks by a millimeter when her phone rings suddenly, causing her to disturb the clean line of sutures she’s practicing.
“Damn it,” she whispers, moving the surgical scissors to her left hand and retrieving her phone from the pocket of her lab coat hanging on the back of her chair. She reads the name on the screen and frowns, her momentary irritation forgotten as she answers it uncertainly.
“Yoongi?” she asks, just to be sure. She can’t remember the last time she met Yoongi; it has to have been a year, at least.
“Hey, Nari.” There’s a shuffle on the other end. “Hope I’m not bothering you.” There’s a pause. “I texted.”
“Oh.” She checks her notifications to see two messages from him from half an hour ago. “Sorry. I’ve been busy today,” she says, placing the phone on the table, putting it on speaker. She’s alone in the skills lab for once and she’s determined to master these sutures today, even if she has to do it while on the phone.
“No problem. I, uh… do you want to go to this restaurant opening tomorrow? It’s called… Mélanges, I think. I have an extra ticket.”
Nari almost messes up another suture. Placing the practice kit to the side and frowning at the phone, she repeats his own words back to him. “Do I want to go… to the Melange opening night… with you?”
“That’s right.”
There’s another pause, this time lasting longer while Nari tries to process this. She wonders briefly if she’s missing something.
“You have an extra ticket? Or is it a plus-one?” she prods, hoping he’ll prove her wrong.
“It’s a plus-one,” he confirms, his voice a monotone. “The company gave all of us the option to bring someone.”
This, she knows. She knows who Namjoon will bring, who Taehyung will bring depending on what his situation with that racer girl is, who Seokjin will bring…
“Are you in?”
Nari bites her lip. “Why me? Don’t you have anyone else you’d like to take?” She says this with an awkward chuckle.
“No,” he says flatly. “And Jin hyung said you wanted to go and I have an extra, so I thought I’d ask.”
“Seokjin told you to ask me?” The words are out of her mouth before she can help it. She can’t imagine Seokjin would ever set her up, with Yoongi no less. Something feels like it’s sinking in her stomach, but it’s so slow and so heavy that she doesn’t have the mental bandwidth to focus on it right now.
“I have to get into a meeting.”
The hint is clear. Nari leans back in her chair, her gaze falling on the abandoned sutures. She’s scrubbing in on a CABG surgery tonight, one that’s sure to go on well into the morning. She has to get these sutures right by then, just like she has to be in a place where Seokjin setting her up doesn’t it bother her.
Besides, she really wants to go. It’s an opportunity to get out of the hospital and be in something other than scrubs and, if she’s lucky, put on some make-up.
“Um, yeah. Sure. What time?”
“It starts at six. I’ll text you the address.” There’s a click and Yoongi hangs up.
Nari watches her phone screen go dark, her mind moving in slow motion. Yoongi is the last person she ever expected to have this conversation with but then again, Seokjin is the last person she expected to meddle in her love life.
But it’s time, she supposes. She would have had to see him sometime and if she’s seeing him with Seulgi, it wouldn’t hurt to have a date on her arm as well, even if it is a person who until today was only ever Seokjin’s quietest friend.
—
Chaeyoung stares at two pairs of heels, one white and one violet, wondering which one would be more professional and still the one that would allow her to stay on her feet longer.
She wishes they would speak to her. She’s already getting late and if the bus is also late, she can say goodbye to the first section of her research on the set-up and arrival of the attendants.
The doorbell rings just as she picks the violet pair. Pulling them on as she hops to the door, she opens it to reveal Hoseok, in an all-black ensemble, with the shirt unbuttoned to reveal a sliver of tan collarbone, and his hair perfectly styled.
“Hey,” she says slowly, placing her foot back on the ground. “What are you doing here?”
Hoseok, who seems to be momentarily surprised at seeing her in a dress, shrugs belatedly. “What do you mean? You’re my date for tonight, so… I’m picking you up.”
He says it like it’s obvious. Chaeyoung doesn’t respond for a moment, an ancient, repressed part of her heart skipping a beat at the sentiment.
“Oh,” she says. “You didn’t have to do that. I was going to take the bus, but… come in,” she adds, opening the door wider.
“Unfortunately, my parents raised me better than that,” he quips, stepping inside with his hands inside his pockets. A faint, comforting scent of cologne travels with him, of something light and airy. “Are you ready?”
“Almost,” she replies, suddenly remembering her heels and bending to fasten them. When she stands up straight, she’s nearly three inches taller.
Hoseok raises his eyebrows. “It’s like magic,” he jokes dryly, his eyes dropping lower and his smile fading slightly. His gaze stutters around her chest before he meets her eyes deliberately. “Are you sure that’s not…” He swallows awkwardly. “Too revealing?”
Chaeyoung frowns and looks down, seeing the hints of cleavage she’d deliberately picked this dress out for. In her opinion, it made her look more womanly and less childish; it has come to her notice that she might be taken less seriously than her peers due to her youthful appearance and while it sounds like a compliment, Chaeyoung knows it’s no way to get ahead in her career.
“No,” she answers, adjusting her neckline. “Believe me, I chose this dress for a reason. You know, you really didn’t have to come,” she repeats, sounding slightly apologetic. “You’re doing me a big enough favour by just inviting me.”
“It’s not a big deal. The last thing I need is you calling me from outside the event because security won’t let you in.”
Chaeyoung chuckles good-naturedly. “Well, that doesn’t not sound like me,” she agrees, disappearing back into her room. “Still,” she adds from inside, “it’s really cool of you.”
Hoseok struggles not to roll his eyes and checks his watch. They’ll make it on time if she wraps up in the next couple of minutes. He wonders if he can talk her into wearing some kind of scarf before deciding it’s not worth the hassle, for it’s almost guaranteed to start a fight.
“Chae, I don’t mean to be that guy,” he calls out, hearing vague sounds from inside her room, “but we should head out soon.”
“I know, I know, I’m sorry,” she says hurriedly, clutching a fistful of jewellery and shuffling out of the room in tiny steps, he presumes, so as to not trip over her heels. “You really didn’t have to do this, you know. I’m totally fine getting there by myself,” she tells him sombrely. “I hate to inconvenience you.”
“Fine, I’ll just leave in that case. You can take the bus and meet me there.” He turns to leave.
“Okay, okay.” She grabs his arm and grins sheepishly. “Thank you for the ride, oppa,” she says sweetly.
Hoseok does his best to ignore the vague fluttering in his stomach. “You got it. Now can we go?”
“Yeah, just a minute.” She heads over to the dining table and lays out the jewellery and mercifully doesn’t spend much time deciding on the simple silver chain with a pendant dangling from it. Grabbing a small clutch from the table, she approaches him.
“Do you mind?” She hands him the necklace. “I spent an hour doing my nails to perfection today and I really don’t want to ruin them.”
“Oh - um, okay.” A little taken aback, Hoseok takes the necklace, noting the dark purple pendant that matches her shoes. Chaeyoung turns around expectantly and he gingerly moves his arms over her head to bring the necklace around her neck. Before he can say anything, she sweeps her long hair off her neck and over her shoulder, revealing more skin than Hoseok had anticipated.
His fingers slightly unsteady, he tries to focus all his concentration on the delicate silver clasp and not on anything else - not his fingers brushing the indents of her spine, not the thin straps of her dress against her exposed back, not her moving closer to him to give him a better view so he can -
“Oh!” Hoseok jumps backwards like he’s been burnt. Chaeyoung turns around, too, looking startled.
“What?”
“I -” He looks up to see her frowning. “Nothing. It - it’s done,” he stutters, watching as she feels for the clasp and tugs at it once.
“Cool. Thanks.” She nods, flipping her hair back and looking at him. “Are you okay?”
Not trusting himself to speak, Hoseok nods. He can still feel her hips brushing against his, the suddenness of it and the smoothness of the satin, mixed with the flowery perfume.
“Sure?”
“Let’s go,” he says abruptly, spinning on his heel and stalking out the front door. He hears her gathering her keys and closing the door and he subtly adjusts his slacks, making sure she doesn’t notice when she joins him.
—
When they enter the venue, Chaeyoung lets out a low whistle.
“Holy shit,” she whispers, her gaze darting around the interior bathed in golden light. “I owe you big time for this, oppa.” She fluffs out her hair and takes a deep breath as Yoongi joins them, to whom she gives a small wave. “Okay, I see Sooah. She promised me tips on which guest to start with so I can work my way through the crowd. Thanks again for this,” she says, squeezing Hoseok’s arm appreciatively and walking away.
Hoseok watches her go in the direction of the small makeshift stage, her long hair dancing behind her. He can’t help but feel a little sorry as she does, for he was hoping she would at least hang around with him for the initial bit of the party.
“Isn’t that your friend’s sister?”
“What?” His train of thought interrupted, he turns to see Yoongi raising his eyebrows blankly. “Oh. Yeah. She needed access to a bunch of socialites for work, so I thought…” He gestures vaguely.
Yoongi nods. “She’ll definitely find those here. I kind of thought this would be a totally different crowd.” He clicks his tongue.
“The Samsung chairman is here,” he replies, tilting his head towards a group of men in slick suits. “So it’s that crowd. I mean, look around - there’s his daughter, she’s always in the paper. Then there’s… oh, that actor - Dong-won? Something like that. Choi Siwon is here, whoa… Suh Minjung, Kang Sera, Lim Hayeon…”
Yoongi pauses. Something stirs in the back of his mind. A name, a face, lots of diamonds, an air of superiority laced with insecurity. Just as he starts flipping through the memories, they’re joined by Seokjin and with him, his girlfriend Seulgi in a salmon-coloured dress, holding a martini glass.
“This restaurant is going to be insane,” declares Seokjin, once they’re done with basic pleasantries. “The appetisers are to die for.”
“The cocktails aren’t bad either,” says Seulgi approvingly, taking a sip of hers.
“I’ll take your word for it,” says Hoseok, his stomach already rumbling. He looks around again to see if he can spot Chaeyoung, his heart sinking slightly when he doesn’t see her. He doesn’t know how she’s planning to approach all these people tonight; he wonders if he should bring her a drink, just for liquid courage.
“Who else is here?” Seokjin asks.
“Taehyung and Jimin are running late, as usual,” supplies Yoongi. “Jungkook is here somewhere and Namjoon said he was reaching a few minutes ago…” He fishes out his phone, presumably to check.
“Isn’t that him right there?” Seulgi points towards the bar, and all three men turn to see Namjoon, tall and blond, at the bar. They watch as he accepts a glass of whiskey and takes a big sip from it, swallowing it with a pained frown before visibly forcing his face to relax as he starts to socialise.
“That’s not good,” remarks Hoseok in a low voice. “How was he in the studio today?” he asks Yoongi.
“I didn’t go. He said he could do it himself.” He shrugs apologetically. “I was fine avoiding him for a bit.”
Seulgi frowns. “Why are you guys avoiding him?”
Seokjin sighs hugely. “He and his girlfriend broke up and he’s… kind of using all his energy to be normal on stage and in public,” he ventures.
“So, he’s totally depressed in private,” says Hoseok, voicing what Seokjin had tactfully left unsaid.
She winces. “That’s rough.”
Seokjin makes a noise of acknowledgement. “We can’t let him drink himself to death tonight just because there’s an open bar, though. Someone needs to look out for him.”
Hoseok gives him a look. “He’ll be fine; he’s technically working. But I can do it,” he adds quickly, when Seokjin narrows his eyes at him. “For a while.”
“I’ll take over for you,” offers Yoongi as Hoseok leaves to go to Namjoon, looking at his phone again. “Nari’s calling - hang on.” He answers it and backs away from the rest of the group.
“Right.” Seokjin exhales and puts his hands in his pockets. “I almost forgot Nari was coming.”
He misses Seulgi’s fleeting frown. “Really? You mentioned it in the car.”
“Did I?”
“Yeah.”
Seokjin looks confused for a moment but then looks ahead to see Yoongi and Nari entering the venue, stopping at the bar first. They seem to be speaking in short sentences, his hands in his pockets and hers crossed over her chest as she looks around warily. Her eyes meet Seokjin’s for a moment and he smiles a bit in response, raising a tentative hand in greeting. At that moment, however, the bartender slides her drink across the bar and she turns away, nodding at something Yoongi says.
They walk over, Nari hanging back slightly as they approach.
Seulgi speaks first. “Hi, Nari,” she says, giving her a small smile. “It’s good to see you.”
“Yeah,” replies Nari, looking slightly awkward. “You, too.” There’s a pause where no one speaks. “You look nice.”
“Thank you. You do, too.”
“Thanks.”
Seokjin, feeling rather like he wants to die, takes a deep breath. “Good to know you got the evening off.”
“Yeah, I was in a fourteen hour surgery last night and I’ve worked overtime this week.” She shrugs and her face relaxes a bit. “They basically told me to take the night off.”
He smiles a little wider, glad they’re at least talking, when Yoongi interrupts them.
“I’ll be right back,” he says abruptly, walking away with no further explanation, his gaze trained in one direction.
Leaving the others, he walks as quickly as he can without attracting attention, making a beeline for a person whom the universe has made it impossible for him to run into at Big Hit during the last two days that he’s been here in Seoul.
Miso notices him when he’s about ten feet away, her face lighting up momentarily at the sight of him before it immediately freezes into a warning one. Her eyes widen and she shakes her head infinitesimally, but he’s already reached her.
“Hey, stranger,” he mutters, sounding slightly breathless to his own ears.
“Go away,” she whispers through gritted teeth. “Now.”
Something feels like it’s getting crushed in his stomach when she looks away from him, but it’s only then that he notices who she’s with; a group of women, all dressed in designer wear and holding glasses of champagne, beginning to take notice of him one by one.
“You look familiar,” says one of them, looking brilliantly beautiful in a red low-cut gown. “Are you an actor?”
Yoongi starts to shake his head, but someone else answers for him.
“No. He’s Miso’s… friend.” Kang Sera, once again laden in diamond jewellery and a beige dress with smaller diamonds encrusted in it, smiles without disturbing the rest of her face. “You have been to my house,” she states.
“Well… yes, ma’am.” Yoongi nods, noting from the corner of his eye how Miso stiffens next to him. She’s in a white dress tonight, looking smaller and more delicate among this crowd of rich socialites than he’s ever seen her. He forces himself not to turn towards her. “It’s nice to see you again.”
Sera gives him that same cold smile before turning to her daughter. “Miso, you may go with your friend if you wish,” she offers. “You don’t have to stay with us. We’ll just bore you.” Everyone titters in response.
Yoongi is about to sigh inwardly in relief when, to his surprise, Miso shakes her head. “Thank you, Mother, but we’re just colleagues. Yoongi has other friends here. I’ll see you tomorrow at work,” she says to him smoothly, reaching over to switch her empty champagne flute from a passing waiter. She turns away again, this time with a sinking finality.
He swallows and backs away, before turning around and finishing the rest of his drink in one go as he walks away. He’s barely reached the bar again when his phone buzzes in his pocket.
Kang Chanel [18:50]
I’m sorry. But you have to stay away tonight.
All of a sudden, the room seems a little brighter. Yoongi looks in her direction; she isn’t looking at him, standing silently and unsmiling among the other women of Seoul, looking terribly out of place.
Min Suga [18:51]
Why? I’m not afraid of your mother.
He watches as she subtly turns her phone towards her, her hand near her hip, and types out a reply with one hand.
Kang Chanel [18:51]
You don’t have to be. Just do as I ask. Please.
Yoongi clutches his phone tightly, feeling every lingering ounce of worry and fear and downright uncertainty about Miso that he’s kept to himself the last two months while on tour. That’s the worst part: the uncertainty of what the hell her life is, of why she’s so guarded all the time. Every conversation he’d initiated stayed frustratingly limited to texting, making it far easier for her to divert the topic every time it came to her.
“How’s it going?” Hoseok appears from seemingly nowhere, tapping his fingers on the bar. “Um… one appletini and… one Long Island Iced Tea,” he says to the bartender before turning back to Yoongi. “Hyung?”
“Fine,” he says shortly. “What about you? Two drinks?”
“One’s for Chaeyoung,” he answers. “She’s been gone for a while and I just want to make sure she’s okay and stuff. Have a drink with her, make sure she’s not lonely or bored. I brought her here; it’s only polite.”
Yoongi nods absently before frowning. “Weren’t you on Namjoon duty?”
“Yeah, but you’re going to have to take over now. If you want company, you can ask… no, Jimin is hanging around Sooah… oh, Taehyung is free,” he offers. “He and Jungkook are discussing the conditions for Dilara’s race this weekend but other than that, they might be fun.”
He considers this. “Sure. Not like I have anything else to do,” he mutters, taking his second whiskey and hopping off the stool.
Something is off with Yoongi, Hoseok is sure. But he isn’t about to let that negativity dim his focus. He grabs the drinks and snakes through the crowd to where he sees Chaeyoung with a couple of vaguely familiar chaebol-turned-actors, and Park Jimin. They’re all smiling and talking, and she has her phone out as one of them talks deliberately into the speaker.
“And that’s my official statement,” he declares, winking at her as Hoseok comes closer.
Chaeyoung laughs and locks her phone deliberately. “Thank you. I can’t wait to hear your unofficial statements now.” She turns to see Hoseok. “Oh - hey.”
“Hey,” he says, casually making his way in between her and the guy she was talking to. “Thought I’d get you a drink, in case you’re too busy to get one.”
“Oh, well… technically, I’m working,” she says sheepishly, accepting it anyway. “But one drink won’t hurt, I guess.”
“The more, the better,” her new friend says.
“Hyung, did you get a drink for me, too?” Jimin pipes up hopefully.
“Nope. Who are your friends?” he asks Chaeyoung, smiling frozenly at the other two.
“Oh, this is Lee Eunwoo -” she points to the first one “- and this is, of course, Kim Baekhyun from The Lost Ship,” she finishes, smiling brightly. It’s a different smile, Hoseok notices. He wonders if this is her work smile; either way, he knows it’s one he’s never seen. “This is -”
“J-Hope!” One of them - Eunwoo or Baekhyun - says loudly and in mild wonder. “Honour to meet you!”
Slightly mollified, he nods. “Er, thank you. Are you both -”
“Drinks!” he continues, snapping at a waiter and beckoning for him to come over. Hoseok frowns at him while Chaeyoung and Jimin visibly cringe, and watches as he supplies Jimin and his friend with fresh drinks. “To BTS!” he declares randomly, holding his glass out so everyone clinks theirs with it.
“Chaeyoung was telling us about her job,” says the other one - Hoseok can’t remember which one he is. “She’s been working very hard tonight,” he adds, giving her another wink.
Hoseok imagines knocking his glass out of his hand so his drink spills down his crisp white shirt. “She’s a hard worker. Always has been,” he says instead, throwing a brave arm around her shoulders. He ignores Jimin’s raise of the eyebrows and the slight pink tinge that appears on Chaeyoung’s cheeks.
He hangs around there for a while, a chaotic group of twenty-somethings drinking with gusto at what was supposed to be a classy event. Sooah joins them for about ten minutes as well, taking a short break from her organising duties, and somehow influences everyone to chug their drinks and get fresh ones.
“I’m good,” says Chaeyoung, good-naturedly declining another drink. Sooah doesn’t push and Hoseok, relieved at Chaeyoung’s decision, is about to decline another one as well when one of the chaebols gets involved.
“I thought we were just getting started!” he groans jokingly. “It’s seven-thirty - the drinking has barely commenced,” he adds, taking another drink from a waiter, who pauses expectantly with the remaining drinks on the tray.
Something about the guy’s - Eunwoo, Hoseok decides - statement sounds vaguely challenging. Hoseok knows better, though. He should know better, but the image of Eunwoo winking at Chaeyoung compels him to accept another flute of champagne and clink it hard with his.
“Hoseok, are you sure?” Chaeyoung asks in a low voice.
“Of course, I am,” he answers, even as his vision swims slightly. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you’re kind of leaning on me a bit,” she tells him, holding his shoulder to steady him.
“Isn’t that what friends are for?” he asks vaguely, taking another long swig of the bubbly champagne and feeling it go directly to his head. It stings his throat pleasantly and he welcomes the sensation, the only other ones he’s completely aware of being Chaeyoung’s hand on his shoulder and the familiar flowery scent.
She chuckles. “Sure. But maybe you should drink some water?”
It sounds like a good idea. He bites his lip, though, and looks down at Chaeyoung seriously. “And you’ll stay right here when I’m gone?”
“Absolutely,” she promises. “I won’t go anywhere.”
“Alrighty. I’ll come find you.” He pats her head and makes his way to the bar, using all his concentration to walk to the bar in a straight line. The further he gets away from that noisy group, the steadier he feels. He reaches the bar and stops himself next to a woman nibbling on an hors d'oeuvre.
“Hoseok?”
He does a double take when he notices her. “Nari?” He blinks a couple of times to confirm that it is indeed her. “Wh - hey! It’s been a while. Are you here with, um…”
“Jin? No.” She shakes her head. “I’m here with Yoongi, actually?”
Hoseok wonders if he’s heard her correctly. “Really?” When she nods, he frowns. “Min Yoongi? Like, our -”
“Yes, that one.” She rolls her eyes as her drink arrives, along with Hoseok’s glass of water.
“Oh.” He takes a slow sip. “Does Jin hyung know?”
Nari exhales heavily. “It was his idea, apparently. Unfortunately, my date seems to be very busy and has been MIA for most of the evening so far.”
Hoseok feels rather like he’s missing something, but he’s intrigued. He locates Chaeyoung with some effort, still with the same group, Jimin still with them. Almost as though she can hear his train of thought, she catches his eye and waves, miming drinking something.
“She’s cute,” remarks Nari. “Do you know her?”
“Yeah, she’s my date,” he says, surprisingly easily.
“Mhm. Like a date-date or a date you kind of abandon once she’s inside?”
“Erm… a date-date.” Hoseok chews his bottom lip awkwardly. “God, I hope they serve the food soon,” he says after a few moments.
“Me, too,” she starts to say when, to Hoseok’s immense relief, Namjoon and Yoongi approach them, the latter giving Hoseok a meaningful look as he trails slightly behind the leader.
“Please tell me they’re serving the food soon,” groans Namjoon, placing his empty glass on the bar and standing next to Hoseok. “Oh - hey, Nari.”
Nari nods at him while Yoongi stands on her other side. “Cheers,” he says quietly, clinking his glass with hers, apparently not noticing her motionless stature. “Where’s Jin hyung?” he asks after a moment.
“No idea. How’s your night going?” she asks in turn, a slight bite in her tone.
He shakes his head. “Crap.”
She doesn’t bother answering, choosing to sip at her drink instead. “I could really use some food,” she mutters, mostly to herself.
“I’m heading over to the appetiser station. If you want to come,” offers Namjoon indifferently.
“Sure, why not?” With that, she and Namjoon leave the bar without another word to Hoseok or Yoongi.
“Wait, aren’t you supposed to go with him?” Hoseok hisses.
“Namjoon is a big boy. He can manage himself for a while,” says Yoongi dismissively. His eyes roam the hall, searching for Miso. Every moment that he doesn’t see her feels like something bad waiting to happen; the memories of the last time they were at a party and she disappeared from his sight haunts him. How late he’d been to save her, what possibly happened as a result of it… it’s kept him up more nights than he cares to count, despite Miso herself absolving him of any guilt.
His anger at the enigmatic Kang Jaesung rises again, as it has at various times in the last couple of months. He’s not here tonight, though; Yoongi has checked the guest list with Sooah, but it’s no matter. Miso’s father isn’t here, but her mother certainly is.
Miso’s message floats through his mind. He knows he should adhere to her wishes but it’s so hard, so difficult to sit here and do nothing and know nothing when he has at least an inkling of how horrible her parents are. Just as he’s struggling with this dilemma, in an insane coincidence, Kang Sera takes Nari’s vacant spot and orders a drink.
Yoongi freezes, noting vaguely as Hoseok floats away with a fresh drink in his hand. Before he can decide whether to say anything, she seems to notice who he is.
“Miso’s friend,” she exclaims, the same half-smile on her face again.
“Yoongi.” He pauses. “Nice to meet you again.”
“It’s nice to meet a friend of Miso’s. It doesn’t happen very often, actually,” she chuckles. “Remind me again how you know each other?”
“We’re co-producers at Big Hit,” he answers. “We’re in the same - we used to be in the same team. Until recently.” He bites his lip.
“Oh?” She raises an eyebrow. “Why aren’t you anymore?”
She wanted a change and I pushed her into it without knowing. “It’s just part of the deal,” he says instead. “We all work with different producers.”
“Interesting. You’re the only one I’ve ever heard of, though,” she points out. “I’m glad she has a friend. I worry about her sometimes, you know.”
Yoongi lowers his head, trying not to look too confused. He’s insightful enough to know that she’s not being genuine about concern for her daughter, but he also can’t tell what she’s getting at.
“She’s - she’s good at her job,” he says eventually. “We’ve worked together for a while.”
It’s back, the cold smile, as though she’s forgotten how to show real happiness. “That’s great. You should come home sometime, in that case. For dinner. We have a world renowned private chef who can make you anything you like.”
Yoongi nods his head in silence, more preoccupied with imagining being seated opposite Kang Jaesung at the dining table and keeping calm rather than the private chef and his prowess.
He feels a hand on his shoulder. “In fact, if you’re free -“
Something appears in between them and Yoongi realises a moment later that it’s Miso, placing herself between them with her back to him. Her hair brushes against his shoulders and his heart catches.
“Mother, Minseo from Balmain is here,” she says calmly, cutting her off. “She said she was looking for you, so I thought I’d look for - oh. Hello, Yoongi.”
She glances at him for barely a moment; he can almost believe that they hardly know each other.
Sera raises her eyebrows and her eyes flit between both of them before she nods. “Of course. Have a good evening, Yoongi. And it’s rude to interrupt, Miso.”
With that, she sweeps away in a flash of finery and Chanel No. 5.
“Wow,” he exhales, shaking his head. “Your mother is -“
“Unbelievable,” hisses Miso, glaring at him before stalking away in the opposite direction from her mother.
“Wait, what?” Momentarily stumped, Yoongi abandons his drink and follows her. She’s fast, though; he doesn’t catch up with her until she’s halfway to the appetiser station, by the giant four foot menus with he five-course meal printed on it. There are fewer people here and she automatically slows down.
“Miso -“ He reaches for her arm but she flinches out of his grasp.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she whispers furiously, her head farting around cautiously.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to - look, you told me to stay away from you and I did, but -“
“When I said stay away, I meant from me and my family. Especially my mother,” she adds with a disgusted look. “Why can’t you just do what I ask, for once?”
“But I didn’t even do anything - she came up to me.”
“So? You couldn’t have walked away?”
“No, that’s rude!” he exclaims, still in the same exchange of whispers, sighing when she scoffs in disbelief. “Look, can you just tell me why -“
“No, I can’t, because it’s none of your business,” she snaps. “Stay away, Yoongi. I mean it.” As though completely unaware of his stomach sinking into his knees, she storms off in a sea of white.
—
Nari states at her reflection in the women’s powder room, the entire area bigger than her living room. She’s starting to realise she has no idea why she’s here or why she’d ever wanted to come in the first place.
Even worse, she has no idea why it occurred to her one second after she told Seokjin that she wanted to go, that he would be bringing his girlfriend along. Far from it being a way to gingerly reconcile, it’s only serving to remind her why she’d chosen to stay away all this time.
She hasn’t seen any of the others for longer than a few seconds. Hoseok already seems on his way to getting wasted, Jimin greeted her warmly but then scooted off, while Taehyung and Jungkook haven’t been spotted at all.
Ironically, the only person she’s actually talked to tonight has been Namjoon, the one person Yoongi advised her dryly to try and avoid. It was one of eight words that her blessed date had uttered to her before disappearing. Namjoon was clearly in a bad way but misery loves company, and on some cathartic level, Nari was glad to be miserable with someone else who was also miserable.
Except Namjoon knew what he was miserable about. Nari had only an inkling that she refused to get into right now, when the stall door behind her opens, and Seulgi appears.
“Oh.” She looks surprised as well, taking a beat before standing one basin away from Nari. “Hi. Haven’t seen you much tonight.”
Nari nods, not looking at her. She wishes Seulgi hated her. She wishes she hated Seulgi, but beyond a nagging indifference, she can’t find anything.
She is not the problem, says a voice in her head. The voice is knowing, and Nari shuts it up instantly.
With a huge effort, she meets Seulgi’s gaze in the mirror. “Yeah, I’ve been… around,” she answers. “Went out to get some air and stuff.”
Seulgi nods. She seems far more guarded than she had during the dinner, much more like their accidental chance meeting at the coffee shop. “Yeah, it’s more crowded than I thought it would be. Seokjin’s been in work-mode all night, talking to all these important people.” She shakes her head and half-chuckles. “It’s kind of boring.”
Tell me about it. “I’m just here for the food,” says Nari wryly.
A smile flashes across Seulgi’s face as she washes her hands. “Me, too. Can’t come soon enough.” She pauses. “You came with Yoongi, right?”
“Sort of.”
“Right. Seokjin told me. I wasn’t sure - I saw you with Namjoon a couple of times so I thought maybe…” She shrugs uncertainly.
There’s a couple of seconds where Nari processes what she means. “Oh. No. God, no.” She shakes her head vigorously. “No, no. Absolutely not.”
Seulgi raises her eyebrows at this emphatic denial. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Sorry. Didn’t mean to assume.”
“That’s okay.”
She nods and begins rummaging in her clutch for lipstick. Nari sneaks a glance at her, wondering wildly for a moment what would happen if Seulgi’s assumption was true. If she and Namjoon did hook up tonight, the amount of alcohol it would take for that to happen, how Seokjin might react…
A moment later, she shakes her head, a little shocked at the road her thoughts took. She sticks her hand out under the faucet and rinses them with rigour, as if hoping to get rid of her momentary insanity.
She and Seulgi exit the powder room together, an awkward distance maintained between them.
“Do you want to join us for a drink?” Seulgi asks, pointing towards the party.
Nari follows the direction of her thumb and sees Seokjin standing with Taehyung and another person she doesn’t recognise, the latter two doing all the talking while Seokjin stands with them, hands in his pockets and comfortably silent.
He doesn’t like these parties at all. There was a time, aeons ago, where Nari would be studying late at night and would suddenly get a text from Seokjin, complaining about the number of people he was around. They would then engage in a game of reverse twenty questions where Seokjin would get a picture taken with a handful of guests, and he and Nari would invent an entire background and personality for them.
That was Before, though. Now, Nari looks at Seokjin and then at Namjoon across the room where he’s speaking to someone else, nodding with a forced smile on his face. It’s a choice between mostly comfortable silence and minor small talk with a friend, and feeling like her heart is getting squeezed further with every breath she takes.
“Maybe later. Thanks.” Nari waits for her to nod before walking towards Namjoon, deliberately not looking in Seokjin’s direction. “Hey,” she says to him, as his companion floats away. “Do you want another drink?”
“Always,” he mutters, and they head to the bar and order two whiskey sours. Namjoon leans against the bar and surveys the room, exhaling. “Can this night end already?”
“I know, right?”
Namjoon frowns slightly. “Didn’t you come here with Yoongi? Where is he?”
“Who knows?” It was annoying her before, but now she’s over it. Mostly. “Last time I saw him he was talking to some lady at the bar.”
“Really? Who?”
“The rich one.”
He chuckles without humour. “That narrows it down,” he agrees wryly as their drinks arrive. They don’t bother moving but as it turns out, they don’t have to. Her aforementioned date appears then, frowning deeply at nothing in particular as he holds a glass with a tiny bit of golden liquid in it. He gives both Namjoon and Nari a cursory nod and finishes the rest of his drink in one go.
Before they can exchange any more words, Seokjin arrives with Hoseok in tow. He meets Nari’s eyes and gives her a tentative smile that she tries to return before averting her gaze. Namjoon’s words have reminded her of Seokjin’s role in this mess of a situation; his monumentally stupid decision of setting her up with someone who obviously didn’t want to be set up.
“Uh… Namjoon?” Seokjin asks delicately, his eyes on his glass now. “Is that your… fourth? Fifth drink?”
Namjoon pauses, his glass halfway to his mouth. “Third. Why?”
He shrugs. “Just. None of us have actually… seen you drinking for a while, so we weren’t sure. But, okay. Third is… not bad. Third is good.”
Nari struggles not to roll her eyes at how transparent all three of the newcomers are, and if she can tell what they’re up to, Namjoon certainly can.
“I’m fine, hyung,” he says at last. “Just letting loose a little bit.”
Yoongi scoffs, so softly that Nari takes a moment to realise. “What have you been the last two hours then?”
“Keeping your date company,” he shoots back calmly. “Good thing I didn’t bring one, turns out.”
On her other side, Yoongi nods, his jaw hard and his tongue in his cheek. “Not by choice, though.”
Namjoon freezes and even Nari winces inwardly. In front of her, Seokjin purses his lips as though bracing himself for something, while Hoseok openly flinches with his entire face.
“Is that what this is?” Namjoon asks after a moment, looking around at them. “You’re… what? Trying to keep tabs on how much I’m drinking because I went through a break-up?”
“Of course not,” says Seokjin the same time that Hoseok says, “Not exactly.”
Namjoon raises his eyebrows. “I’m doing a lot better than him,” he points out, gesturing at Hoseok, whose face is a brilliant red and is gently swaying next to Seokjin.
He looks like a deer caught in headlights at being called out, before his face relaxes slightly. “Ah, don’t feel bad, Namjoon,” he slurs slightly, placing a sympathetic hand on Namjoon’s shoulder. “We’ve all had fights with girlfriends, so we - we get it,” he says, gesturing towards all three of them.
Yoongi scoffs again. “Yeah, except we don’t make it everybody else’s problem.”
Seokjin clicks his tongue. “Yoongi,” he snaps admonishingly, sneaking a hesitant glance at Namjoon.
“I need some air,” he mutters, not looking at Yoongi. He places his glass on the bar in a deliberate motion and makes a show of displaying his empty hands to everyone, before leaving their small circle and striding away.
There’s some truly awkward silence while Nari sips at her drink for lack of anything better to do. Seokjin is still giving Yoongi a pointed look that the latter is avoiding while Hoseok, rocks back and forth on his feet before letting out a loud breath.
“Okayyy,” he says slowly. “So, I’m going to go find Chaeyoung. You know… make sure she’s doing okay and everything.” Nodding at his own words, he walks away in careful, straight steps.
Nari immediately foresees further discomfort, whether or not either Seokjin or Yoongi leave next, so beats them to it. “And I’m going to go…” She looks around hopefully, spotting Seulgi with Jungkook and deciding that even that is a better pair to be with right now. “... somewhere else.”
Yoongi avoids Seokjin’s gaze, interrupted briefly as he watches Nari walk away, before it returns to him.
“You really had to go there? We all know why he is in such a bad mood,” says Seokjin sternly, “but why the hell are you?”
Yoongi can’t bring himself to respond, for the answer is simply too ironic. The image of Miso walking away from him, her face when she’d first seen Sera speak to him, and her stinging rejection of his desire to help her make him want to yell into a dark tunnel.
Seokjin shakes his head in disappointment and walks off, leaving Yoongi alone to stew in his hideous mixture of anger and stress, and now guilt and shame. His feet take the lead, directing him automatically to Namjoon who has stepped outside near the smoking zone, both his hands in his pockets.
Yoongi stops beside him, half-hoping he’ll walk away. But he doesn’t; in fact, it doesn’t even seem like he’s registered the presence of another person.
“It’s a lot of second-hand smoke,” remarks Yoongi weakly. When Namjoon doesn’t respond, he sighs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
Namjoon shakes his head once, slowly, presumably indicating his acknowledgement. Yoongi nods and is about to leave, except now that this topic has been broached, he can’t seem to follow his usual habit of not prying.
“I don’t get it, though,” he says, trying his best to be gentle. “How bad was this fight that she broke up with you? Is it the long-distance thing again? Because you’re on tour? I mean, it’s understandable that -”
“It wasn’t a fight,” interrupts Namjoon, not looking at him. “And she didn’t break up with me. I broke up with her.”
Yoongi frowns, for none of them would have guessed that. “What?” he exclaims, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. “Why?”
Namjoon is quiet for so long that Yoongi thinks he may not answer at all. “Someone broke into her house,” he answers finally, his voice barely more than a whisper.
A ripple of shock flows through Yoongi. “What? Like… by a burglar?”
“No. By fans. Our fans,” he clarifies, clearer now. “My - “ He breaks off, his tongue sharp in his cheek.
Yoongi remembers the few weeks of intense scrutiny and stress in the aftermath of that leaked video. It’s not hard to put two and two together. “Oh, shit,” he mutters, feeling another stab of guilt he wasn’t expecting to feel tonight. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah, she’s…” Namjoon trails away, then shrugs. “They didn’t hurt her this time.”
There’s a beat of silence. “Wait… is that why you ended it?” He tries to keep his tone neutral but isn’t sure he’s succeeded.
“I had to. This can’t happen again.” There’s a note of finality in the way he says it, and Yoongi knows he’s not meant to argue with him. He bites his lip as he watches Namjoon, his jaw tight and his eyes frozen straight ahead.
“How - how did she take it?”
He makes a sound of defeat. “She hates me.”
Yoongi tries to picture Kaya - beautiful, mature, dusky-skinned Kaya with adoring eyes when she looks at her taller boyfriend - hating Namjoon, and he decides he can’t. “I’m sure she doesn’t hate you. She’s probably angry, maybe -”
“Oh, she is. But I don’t care.” He does a double take at Yoongi, then looks away. “I mean… of course I care… but she’s safe. She’s angry but she’s safe.” He swallows and continues looking resolutely ahead. “I’ll take any amount of anger from her if it means I’m doing what I can to protect her.”
Something in the way he says it makes Yoongi feel extremely sorry for Namjoon. The logic of his decision aside, it occurs to Yoongi how his twenty-six year old leader probably wrestled with this alone, and suddenly his jab at the bar seems extremely petty.
“Namjoon…” he begins, feeling distinctly like a bad friend and brother, “why didn’t you tell us?”
He shakes his head. “We’re on tour. And it’s not your problem.” He says it matter-of-factly, a moment before he squeezes his eyes shut and presses his thumb and middle finger against them. “But I’m sorry,” he adds. “I haven’t - I haven’t been a good leader.” He sniffs and exhales, not responding to Yoongi’s resolute shake of the head. “I’ll be inside in a minute,” he says, giving Yoongi a momentary glance.
Yoongi nods and grips his shoulder supportively before heading inside. The hall suddenly seems too small, too crowded and too stifling. He needs a cigarette, he decides, and heads to the lobby after checking that it’s devoid of photographers or fans. He passes by the powder rooms on the way to the coat check, when the door opens and Miso steps out, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
“Oh.” He halts, not knowing what more to say to her. She opens her mouth as if to say something, but apparently thinks better of it, side-stepping him and starting to walk away.
Namjoon’s words play in his mind. I’ll take any amount of anger from her if it means I’m doing what I can to protect her. It’s not the same situation, but it’s enough to spur Yoongi into action.
“Miso -” He waits until she turns around, then grabs her hand and motions towards the coat room. “Just one second,” he insists, immensely relieved when she rolls her eyes and follows him. Closing the door behind her and surrounded by designer shrugs, wraps and summer jackets, Yoongi finally breathes.
“You are impossible,” she states, but there’s less anger and more exasperation in her tone. “I swear, Min Suga, sometimes you act like you have nothing better to do than -”
Yoongi interrupts her. “I don’t care if you’re angry,” he declares.
She looks taken aback for a second at being cut off, but then her eyes narrow. “Excuse me?” she asks icily.
He hesitates; somehow, the words sounded far more impactful and heroic when Namjoon uttered them. “I just mean…” He closes his eyes, gathering his thoughts. He really doesn’t want to go overboard. “I don’t want you… to be angry with me. I’m not trying to make you angry but… Miso, I’m not afraid of your parents, okay?”
Miso sighs. “Yoongi -”
“And if I should be, at least tell me why,” he continues. “Because asking me to forget about it or pretend it doesn’t exist is not working. If you’re afraid of your mother, then -”
“I’m not afraid of her,” she blurts out, sighing and placing her hands on her hips before dropping them to her sides. “God, Min Suga… I can’t believe you’re making me say this. Do you remember that time I told you that my mother was sleeping with my twenty-four year old maths tutor?”
Yoongi frowns in surprise, remembering a cold night outside the Big Hit studio, shared cigarettes and mutual bickering. “Uh… yeah. You said you made that up,” he reminds her.
She gives him a look. “Obviously, you know I didn’t. She was sleeping with him… but I was sleeping with him first.” She doesn’t give Yoongi time to process this statement. “Right before I left for Australia? I was in a… situation with a classmate of mine. But then I ended it with him because I found my mom’s earring in his car and I left the country.”
Yoongi’s throat feels stuck. “What are you -”
“My mother was very young when she got married. My father ignores her. She craves attention, especially when it’s someone else’s.” Miso shakes her head and looks away. “And for some reason, she’s got it in her head that I’m her competition,” she finishes in a low voice.
There’s something she isn’t saying, but it’s also clear from the way she folds her arms across her chest that she isn’t going to. Something tugs at Yoongi’s heart as he watches Miso stare defiantly at something behind him, until her eyes dart up to him and she rolls them.
“Jesus, don’t make me spell this out, Min Suga,” she snaps, dropping her arms. “Just… do what I ask and stay away.” She doesn’t move, though, her hard gaze subsiding.
Yoongi closes his fingers into a fist to make sure his hand stays at his side. “You have nothing to worry about,” he says softly.
Miso’s eyes flicker. “I’m not worried about anything.” But the annoyance and chagrin is fading and unlike every time she’s held his gaze while making some sort of sarcastic point, this time she’s struggling to hold it with the same confidence.
“Good.” His fingers loosen and he lets them. “You shouldn’t be.” He just about registers the statement dawning on her before he steps forward and kisses her, one hand in her hair and the other hovering against her elbow.
He can tell she wasn’t expecting it so he waits for her, waits until the shock wears off and she hesitantly responds, her eyes fluttering shut and her lips slowly increasing in pressure. He opens his mouth against hers only when she does, euphoric that she’s finally, finally telling him something.
She tilts her head up a bit more and places one hand on his chest for support, and Yoongi gently clutches her hair, suddenly resonating so desperately with Namjoon’s words.
The door of the coat room opens then and Miso jerks away from him. Both their heads whip around to see Nari in the doorway, the surprise in her face already fading away when she sees Yoongi. With a quiet scoff, she steps back and pushes the door shut again.
Miso lets out a shaky breath. “Shit. Who was that?”
“Nari. She’s a friend. Don’t worry,” he adds when she turns slowly towards him again. “She won’t tell anyone.”
She nods and Yoongi realises his hand is still in her hair. He retrieves it with care, his heart still racing with what just transpired. Miso bites her lower lip as her gaze falls to the floor, licking her lips before she looks up at him again.
“Min Suga,” she murmurs, pursing her lips slightly. “You really shouldn’t have done that.”
He shrugs, trying to ignore the pit of disappointment in his stomach. “Too late.”
She shakes her head slightly but doesn’t look angry, or sad, or afraid. But there’s something in her eyes, something conflicted that convinces Yoongi not to regret his impulsive act. She reaches up and rubs the side of his lower lip with her thumb and he has to stop himself from taking her wrist. The skin is clear now but the memory of the bruise around it, something he’s now sure he knows the cause of, stays burned in his mind.
“Wait a couple minutes before you leave, okay?” She raises her eyebrows until he eventually nods, watching her as she slips out of the room and closes the door behind her.
Alone, Yoongi muffles a groan into his hands. He obeys her, though, counting down the seconds until he deems it appropriate to leave. On his way back to that wretched party, however, he’s accosted by someone.
“Yoongi!” Kang Sera gives him a pearly smile, still guarded, still assessing. “What a coincidence. I haven’t seen Miso around for a while - would you have any idea where she is?”
Yoongi shakes his head, not trusting himself to speak.
“Oh. Never mind.” She tilts her head slightly and her eyes soften. “I do hope you’ll consider the offer I made, though. It would be so nice to have one of Miso’s friends over for dinner.”
He imagines admitting to Miso that she might be onto something, imagines the smugness that would accompany her response. She would be insufferable at his admission and for some reason, the thought excites him immensely.
“Thank you, ma’am, but that looks a little difficult. Have a good night.” He bows before she can say anything and continues past her, feeling more energetic than he has the whole night, his lips tingling.
—
Jungkook glances backwards at the appetiser station longingly, wishing they weren’t on tour so he wouldn't have to simply watch people eat. As fancy as the menu looks, they still haven’t served dinner and he is famished. Luckily, he’d managed to sneak in a protein bar in his jacket on Taehyung’s advice and in a fortunate turn of events, the coat room is out of the way enough from the main hall that they can break the rules.
He marches in a straight line, head down and careful not to draw any attention. Sneaking around the attendant at the desk, he slides towards the door, only to see it slightly ajar. He moves to open it a little further when he hears a voice inside - crying.
Or not crying, exactly, but there’s a shaking of the voice and some sniffling, and Jungkook feels his insides cringe at the awkwardness of catching someone in a moment of vulnerability. His stomach rumbles again at that moment and he closes his eyes, knowing he needs that protein bar before he snaps and swallows a tempura roll whole in public.
“- everyone else!” The voice cries, the voice high-pitched yet in a clear effort to not be loud. “No, no, that’s not what I’m saying, but you -” The voice, a woman’s pauses, and Jungkook can hear the garbled sound of a response through a phone speaker, sounding far calmer than her.
“But everyone else is here! You didn’t come for the Spring Gala last month and now this - it’s so embarrassing every time!” She pauses again and scoffs. “She’s fine! How does that matter? Is she all you care about?” There’s another pause and a sniffle before the woman responds, this time sounding far more annoyed. “She has some friend here, apparently. Doesn’t seem very impressive,” she adds in a mutter.
Jungkook wonders if he can sneak in anyway. The hunger is killing him and this woman seems so invested in her phone call that she might not notice him at all. Biting his lip and holding his breath, he slips into the dim room and looks around for his jacket. There are rows of clothing, though, and he hasn’t a clue how to locate his own.
“You said that last time, too! Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” There’s the sound of a response again, followed by the unmistakable click of the call ending. The woman sniffles again but stops abruptly. “Is someone there?” she asks sharply.
Jungkook freezes, but before he can devise a way out, the woman appears from behind a row of coats and glares at him through red eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I was just looking for my, um -” He looks around desperately, hoping his black jacket will pop out to him from the sea of other black jackets.
To his surprise, the woman simply shakes her head and dabs at the corner of her eye with a knuckle. She’s beautiful, in an old-fashioned, seventies movie kind of way, her dress dripping with diamonds. Terribly uncomfortable, Jungkook clears his throat.
“Are - are you okay?” he ventures bravely.
She turns away and sniffs again. “Fine. Just alone.”
She says no more and Jungkook takes that as his opportunity to get the hell out of here, protein bar be damned. He can survive a few more minutes before dinner; he’s survived worse.
“Well, I’ll just…” He trails off and makes a beeline for the door when she turns to him again. He halts, trying not to look too panicked at the sight of his exit behind her.
“You look familiar,” she states, frowning slightly. She smells of something vaguely sweet. It’s not perfume; it takes him a moment to realise she smells like Jimin - like cocktails. “Have we met before?”
“I don’t think so,” he answers, although she looks somewhat familiar as well, like one of the many faces on the socialite pages in Seoul’s local newspapers.
She gives him a watery smile. “Pity.” She reaches out and smooths down the collar of his shirt. “Such a handsome boy. I knew so many like you when I was your age. I’m sure you have a girlfriend, though.”
Jungkook shakes his head wordlessly, feeling his ears and neck heat up. She’s really close, this woman. Her nails are painted a calm nude and her cheeks and nose are rosy, probably from the crying.
“Imagine that,” she murmurs, reaching up and kissing him. Jungkook is too shocked to move, freezing in his spot and feeling with staggering clarity her lips against his, the taste of her lipstick and her hand cupping his neck. It takes a few more seconds for it to click and the horror to settle in, and he immediately steps away.
“Sorry, I - I’m not…” Unable to form a full response, Jungkook passes around her and dashes out of the coat room.
—
Nari hurries out of the hotel, welcoming the slight chill of the evening and the fresh air after the pervasive goldenness of the hall. She’ll miss the dinner but nothing is worth staying another second at the most boring party she’s ever been to.
“Nari!”
She ignores Seokjin and continues on her way, eager to make it past the gate to where Jason will pick her up. She hears him shout her name again but doesn’t turn until she hears his footsteps right behind her and he suddenly comes into view.
“You’re leaving?” He sounds slightly breathless. “Already?”
“Seokjin, this has been a crappy night and I really don’t want to do this with you, okay?” she states and tries to skirt around him but he stops her.
“What? What did I do?” he asks, looking genuinely baffled. “I’ve been trying to talk to you all night but you’ve been avoiding me ever since you got here. Then I thought I should probably leave you alone because I saw you with Namjoon and then Yoongi for a little while -”
“You want to know what you did?” Nari feels as though she might burst. “How about setting me up on a date without asking me?”
Seokjin frowns in bewilderment. “Who are you - wait, are you talking about Yoongi?”
“How about setting me up on the worst date of my life, with someone who couldn’t even be bothered to talk to me all night?” she continues, ignoring him because now that she’s begun, she can’t seem to stop. “And then there’s Namjoon, who seems borderline suicidal, while Yoongi is making out with some girl in a coat closet and Hoseok seems to be on the verge of passing out while you’re -”
“Okay, wait, wait - hold on!” He interrupts her, looking thoroughly confused. He doesn’t speak until Nari falls silent. “Who was Yoongi kissing?” Nari turns to leave in a huff but Seokjin grabs her arm again. “And also… I’m confused. I thought you liked Yoongi.”
“I do like Yoongi. He’s a good guy - but a terrible date,” she informs him. “And I can’t believe you’d set me up with him! It’s like you don’t know anything about me - when have he and I ever had anything in common?”
“But -” Seokjin shakes his head. “Nari, I didn’t set you up. You said you wanted to go and he had an extra ticket, so I suggested he check with you. That’s all.”
Nari swallows, her heartbeat loud in her ears. “Yeah… he checked with me and asked me to go with him?”
“On a date?” Seokjin doesn’t look convinced. “Did he actually say it was a date?”
“Yes, he - oh, my God. He didn’t.” She freezes and covers her mouth with her hands. “Oh, my God.” Did she just imagine a date? She feels light-headed, suddenly reminded that she hasn’t slept properly in thirty hours. Her stomach crawls in embarrassment and she squeezes her eyes shut before turning around on the spot and starting to walk away in bigger steps.
“No. No way.” Seokjin darts in front of her again. “You don’t get to be mad at me and yell at me for something I didn’t even do.”
“Oh, believe me, I know this was all me, okay?” She shudders, unable to meet his eyes out of sheer humiliation. “I’m leaving. We’re on the same page.”
“No, we aren’t. I don’t want you to leave.”
“Tough. Move, Seokjin.”
“Nari -” He grabs her shoulders for one moment, stopping her in her tracks before releasing her. “You are mad at me. You’re mad at me about something but you don’t want to talk about it, so you’re just looking for other reasons to be mad at me, just so you can be mad at me. But I’m done,” he declares, and she hasn’t seen him look this serious in a long time. “I’m done being your punching bag and I’m done letting you chew me out until you tell me what’s actually bothering you.”
Her heart races uncomfortably. “Seokjin… I’m sorry I blamed you, okay? But I… nothing’s bothering me. I just want to leave.”
“Bullshit.” He fixes her with a look, his jaw sharp and his eyebrows slanted. “For heaven’s sake, Nari. Seventeen years. We’ve been friends for seventeen years - what is so bad that you can’t tell me?”
“It’s not… bad.”
“Then why can’t you tell me?”
“Because you didn’t do anything wrong!” she blurts out, frustrated. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” she repeats. “But I’m mad at you anyway, which means this is my problem. I can’t tell you because… because you can’t do anything about it.”
Seokjin swallows. “Tell me anyway,” he says quietly.
There’s a loaded silence between them and Nari knows it’s because they’ve reached the crux of the issue, the thing they’ve been avoiding all this time.
But maybe this is it. Maybe this is the time. It would make a mess of everything, but maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it would become easier if she put it into words, if she took a risk and stepped over the line once in her life.
Taking a step forward, she takes a deep breath. Her hands go up to his face, thumbs on his cheekbones, only an inch above her own. She bravely meets his gaze. He isn’t stopping her, or stepping away. His eyes flicker, and it’s anticipation. Nari glances from his eyes to his mouth, pink and plush, and touches it with her thumb before moving closer.
Do it. Every cell in her body wants to do it, to take the plunge and deal with whatever comes out of it. But even as she talks herself into it, her heart sinks because she knows, she knows that despite what she feels, it will make no difference if she drags him down with her, if she is the reason he becomes a cheater. So, she drops her hands from his face and steps back, feeling her heart bang against her ribcage painfully.
“Nari - ”
“I wish,” she says, looking at the ground as she searches her heart for the moment it all went wrong. “I wish… that after you kissed me at Hyeri’s house… I wish I hadn’t left.”
The last word lingers in the night. “So stay now,” he murmurs, almost pleadingly.
But Nari shakes her head. “It’s not really the same thing. It’s fine, Seokjin. Really.” She takes a deep breath. “I need to sleep anyway.”
Seokjin looks like he wants to argue, but doesn’t. “How are you getting home?”
“A friend is picking me up.” She doesn’t mention a name but something in how he nods makes her quite certain that he knows she means Jason. “I’ll just…” She trails off when she sees someone else behind him. “Jungkook?”
Seokjin frowns and turns around and they both see Jungkook ambling out of the hotel, looking dazed. “Oi, Jungkook!” Seokjin exclaims when he doesn’t answer.
Jungkook’s head snaps up, and he looks slightly unfocused. “Hey,” he mutters, trudging over to them.
“Are you okay?” Nari asks, observing his quiet demeanour.
He nods immediately. “Yeah, yeah. Just… not feeling well.”
He’s clearly lying, but Nari doesn’t pry. “Okay. I’ll drop you home in that case. Come on.”
Jungkook’s eyes widen and he nods gratefully. “Yes, please.” He looks over at Seokjin. “I already told Namjoon hyung and he said we don’t have any pictures left…”
“Go,” agrees Seokjin, glancing at Nari. “And… take care.”
Nari doesn’t move for a moment, sharing a look with Seokjin before following Jungkook out of the gate.
—
“Careful, careful…”
Chaeyoung takes careful, deliberate steps as she helps Hoseok up the steps. Her heels dangle from one hand and his shoes dangle from one of his, from when he’d insisted on taking them off because he didn’t believe that she should be the only one barefoot.
“That’s not what it means to be a date,” he’d slurred as they crossed the street to her apartment building a few minutes ago.
Chaeyoung had given up on trying to make him put them on, focusing instead on ensuring that his phone, house keys and car keys were with her, along with her own belongings, and getting him into her apartment in one piece.
“I still don’t understand why you kept drinking,” she says admonishingly as they begin ascending the last flight of stairs. “Just because one guy says he won drinking games in college doesn’t mean you make it your mission to compete with him. Especially when you’re clearly out of your depth.”
“Hey, now wait a minute,” he replies, his words flowing into each other. “I didn’t do it for fun. I did it for a good reason.”
“Which is?”
“That he was being an obnoxious jerk.”
Chaeyoung rolls her eyes as they reach her doorstep. Fumbling a little with her keys, she manages to open the door and drag Hoseok inside, who stumbles into her tiny living room and flops onto the couch.
“Is it just me or is it sweltering?” he asks, taking off his jacket and groaning.
“It’s just you,” she confirms, chucking her heels to the corner and heading inside to the kitchen. “Don’t move,” she instructs him on her way out. “I’m going to get you some water.”
Hoseok smiles dreamily in acknowledgement. “Careful, caterpillar. You’re starting to sound like an adult.” But his tone is filled with fondness and endearment, enough that Chaeyoung is willing to overlook the ancient nickname.
“I am an adult,” she informs him, returning with a bottle of water and dropping it softly into his lap. He leans back and grins up at her, cheeks red and hair ruffled. “In fact, after tonight, I think I’m the adult here,” she points out, sitting down next to him. “Drink.”
He obeys without fuss, downing almost half the bottle before emerging breathlessly. “Wow, that was…” He glances at the bottle and squints “... cold.”
“It’s summer.”
“Thanks.” He sighs hugely. “Okay, I’m going to take off.”
“Wait, what?”
But Hoseok is already standing before he halts, swaying slightly before stumbling into Chaeyoung when she stands up to stop him.
“You are wasted, Hoseok,” she reminds him, pushing against him to make him sit back down. “Unless you can get one of your friends to come pick you up, you’re not going anywhere. I didn’t drive your gigantic car all the way here just for you to crash it into a lamp post.”
He pouts. “Buzzkill.”
Chaeyoung sticks her tongue out at him but is relieved when he doesn’t argue further. “You should lie down or something, oppa,” she tells him.
To her surprise, he nods, looking drained and on the verge of passing out. “I should,” he agrees weakly.
“Come on,” she says, standing up and helping him up. She steers him to her bedroom, glad he’s taken off his shoes and jacket already. “Why don’t you lie down and I’ll see if -” She breaks off when he falls on the bed onto his stomach, groaning.
Chaeyoung purses her lips in sympathy. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I have any clothes that will fit you.”
“Issokay,” he mumbles into the pillow, his eyes already fluttering shut before he opens them with some effort. “Don’t you want to sleep, too?”
“Yeah, I will.” She pauses, taking a moment to register how absurd this would be to ten year old Chaeyoung; taking care of Hoseok, the love of her life, because he got drunk trying to keep up with every person she talked to tonight. “Hoseok,” she says after a moment, her own voice sounding slightly different. “I’m going to get you the rest of that water and one of those Pop Tarts you brought me back from America. You shouldn’t sleep on an empty stomach. Okay?”
He cracks a smile, his eyes still closed. “You smell nice.”
Chaeyoung doesn’t bother suppressing her smile at that. When she returns from the kitchen, Hoseok is asleep.
—
Hoseok wakes up the next morning and immediately wishes he was asleep again. His head pounds with a vengeance and his stomach feels bloated and empty at the same time. As soon as he thinks it, he feels the bile in his throat and immediately scrambles out of the room and into the hallway bathroom, and throws up all the contents in his stomach.
Ten minutes later, after puking his guts out and lying down with his forehead pressed to the cool tiles, he emerges from the bathroom and shuffles into the kitchen and dining area. Chaeyoung is scrambling eggs and the smell of fresh coffee wafts from the machine in the corner.
“Wow,” she comments, looking up with the spatula in her hand. “You look like hell, Hoseok.”
He responds noncommittally and sits at the small table, dropping his head onto his arms. He remembers two things right then: the first, that he has dance practice starting in exactly one hour, and the second,
“Would you like some eggs?” she asks cheerily. “There���s coffee, too.”
“How are you not drunk?” he demands, raising his head and wincing.
She glances back at him with a frown. “Because I didn’t drink enough for a whole army? I was able to come home, change, drink water, scroll through Instagram for a while and wake up after a nice sleep.”
Hoseok is about to remark that he must have been dead to the world to not notice her awake when he catches a glimpse of the sofa. “Wait,” he says slowly, taking in the pillow and folded covers. “You slept on the sofa?”
Chaeyoung shrugs. “Yeah. Why?”
“But -” His shoulders fall. “I didn’t mean to kick you out of your own room. You could’ve slept there, too - there was enough room.”
“Yeah, I thought about it, but I didn’t want it to be accidentally weird this morning,” she reasons calmly, bringing him a mug of black coffee with ice floating in it. “And the sofa is totally comfortable. So don’t worry about it.”
“But -”
“Eggs?”
He opens his mouth to continue arguing but stops. “Yes, please,” he mutters sheepishly. “Thanks, Chae. Really. I owe you one.”
“Even after the braces and schnapps thing?”
“Especially after that.”
She grins and places a plate of toast and scrambled eggs before him. “Eat. You’ll need the energy. Especially if you were serious about the whole Harry Potter marathon thing. Actually,” she adds, frowning, “don’t you have dance practice?”
“Um -” It’s a simple question but he can’t seem to answer it. “Why?”
“I distinctly remember you mentioning it to me in the car. I definitely remember you warning Namjoon not to be late or you’d throw a shoe at him,” she adds dryly. “If it helps, he promised he would do his best to be on time.”
“Huh.” The schedule is on his phone; Hoseok suddenly remembers he hasn’t seen it at all this morning.
“Your phone is on the centre table,” she supplies, pre-empting his question when a soft ding sounds. “Oh, that’s the Pop Tarts.” Both of them leave the table in opposite directions.
Hoseok checks his messages and then his calendar. Yep, dance practice in forty-five minutes. He bites his lip; while he is feeling remarkably better than he had when he’d woken up this morning, his head still feels a bit heavy and his throat feels dry as sawdust, despite the coffee.
Just then, his phone pings.
Jimin [8:15]
Leaving in 5. Suga hyung, Namjoon and Jungkook are already in the building. What’s your ETA?
It’s a good question. If he’s planning to drive his car home, shower, change and then leave, he might make it on time by the skin of his teeth.
“Everything okay?” Chaeyoung asks from the dining table, legs long and lean in her cotton shorts as she leans slightly over the table and places the Pop Tarts in the centre.
Then there’s the alternative. Chaeyoung’s sofa, Chaeyoung’s food, Chaeyoung’s Harry Potter marathon. He wonders how he would ever justify it to himself when he realises he already has.
Hobi [8:18]
Threw up this morning. Might have food poisoning. I’ll try to come in after lunch. Sorry.
Sending it, he slides the phone into his pocket and tugs open the collar of his dress shirt. “No practice,” he says as he returns to the table. He returns Chaeyoung’s surprised expression with a shrug. “This is good toast, by the way.”
She beams, taking a bite of her own. “Thanks.”
Hoseok grins back, feeling his stomach do a backflip. “Now,” he says, dusting the crumbs off his hands, “when are we starting this marathon?”
—
#seokjin x oc#seokjin fanfic#yoongi fanfic#yoongi x oc#hoseok x oc#hoseok fanfic#thebtswritersclub#bangtanwhq#micdropnet#k-vanity#houseofddaeng#wkcnet#hyunglinenetwork#bts jin fanfic#bts suga fanfic#bts suga angst#bts jin angst#bts jhope fanfic
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The Solace Window
Pairing: Hoseok x Reader (ft. Namjoon)
Genre: Angst
↳ 15.8k / Older Couple AU
Summary: Kim Namjoon is no more, and you are left behind as a 75 year old widow. Stuck in between experiencing grief and mourning your late husband, your search for solace seems more and more far-fetched. That is until you stumble upon widowed Jung Hoseok.
*Warnings: Depictions surrounding death, grief, depression, spousal loss, miscarriage, fertility issues, illness, growing older, familial issues, mistreatment of the elderly, old age homes. This story will deal with heavy topics and reader discretion is highly advised.
A/N: After much contemplation, I have decided to write this fic. It is very personal to me, and one that I really wanted to share.
He’s gone.
Kim Namjoon is laid to rest in the casket in an eternal sleep. His gray hair has been carefully combed back against his wrinkled skin, and he’s dressed in an elegant black suit, arms folded and resting on top of his chest. He wears a content expression, brows smoothed out and lips tightly shut.
He’s gone, forever.
A handful of individuals surround him; namely a couple in their late thirties clad entirely in black. The wife clutches onto her husband’s shirt, thick tears streaming down her face and tremors shuddering through her shoulders.
“D-Dad…” She chokes out, burying herself further into her husband’s embrace as he wraps his arms around her.
There are two small children with wide eyes, glancing between their mother and father in curiosity. Their gazes then flicker over to the rest of the people who have gathered, before looking back at the older lady sitting on the side, who holds a somber expression and far too much anguish in her eyes.
You can only watch as the service is completed and you have to say your farewells. You can only watch as you keep the deep ache in your chest at bay, attempting to keep yourself from crumbling. You can only watch as your loved ones are a mess, sobs echoing from the room.
You can only watch as your husband departs from this world, leaving you behind.
You are silent the entire ride home.
When the multiple cars arrive at the large complex, you already begin to carefully shift out of the vehicle, not waiting for anyone to help you out. Your cane hits against the pavement and you place pressure on it, moving slowly with a hunched back.
You trail along the sidewalk until meeting the front steps, cautiously raise your feet and walk on them one by one. Weakly pushing against the door, you tread towards the staircase, having no desire to eat and wanting to head straight to your room.
A gentle hand on your shoulder halts you.
Turning around, the woman stares back at you with a swollen but intentful gaze. She’s inherited your eyes and Namjoon’s smile, her expression scanning your features.
“Mom…” She calls out, but you don’t have the strength to hear her words.
“I’m tired, Naree.” You quietly whisper, and she moves her mouth as if to speak again, but her own words fizzle out. She simply nods, swivelling away as her eyes brim with water.
You gradually ascend onto the steps, pushing your cane against the wood before hauling your shaking feet upward. After a couple of moments, you manage to reach the top, shuffling your feet into your bedroom.
The bedroom you once shared with Namjoon.
There’s a double-sized bed in the middle with two dressers, one of which has Namjoon’s medications carefully stacked to the side, a small lamp and a book with a bookmark that he was in the midst of completing. There’s two picture frames off to the side, a much younger you with a huge smile hugging a shyer and much younger Namjoon, the snapshot taken seconds before he had accidentally stumbled and taken you down with him.
You move closer to the other dresser, the one that contains all of your belongings. Setting your cane securely against it, you slip into the covers, bringing them up to your chest until you’re completely nestled.
As you stare at the ceiling, silence greets you. There’s the faint tick of the clock on the opposite side of the bed, the very one Namjoon had installed so it was easier for him to figure out the time without squinting and straining his eyes. It’s accompanied with a side that is now empty, his scent still lingering on the pillow that sits right next to yours.
The silence continues to greet you the longer you stare at the ceiling, and it’s absolutely deafening.
The tears rise before you can stop them, rolling down the crinkle of your eyes. The longer you wait, the longer you stare, the more it becomes inevitable with every passing minute.
He’s not coming back. There’s no him arising from the door, slowly parting it as he sheepishly admits he had accidentally fallen asleep on the couch downstairs, mind growing absent these days. There’s no dim light radiating out from your side, a pair of glasses on the rim of his nose as he carefully turns the pages of his book. There’s no familiar dimpled smile wishing you goodnight, no soft kisses against your forehead before he slips into the covers with you, pulling you into his warm and comfortable embrace.
There’s nothing anymore and it’s something that slams into you, being wide awake despite living in a walking nightmare.
A harsh sob rips from your throat, echoing against the silent walls.
You are numb.
You slowly peel open your eyes in the morning, the faint sunlight seeping through the same floral curtains. The side beside you still stays empty, as you continue to sleep on your own side. The belongings on the opposite dresser are untouched, small specks of dust long beginning to settle.
A year has passed since the tragedy, and you are still numb.
You rise onto your feet, your wrinkled hand reaching out for your cane. Weakly pushing yourself off the bed, your feet stagger as you pad through the room and head into the bathroom.
Setting your cane aside again, you turn the tap on and the water flows. Pooling it in your hands, you splash it over your skin, the water feeling tender against it. Glancing in the mirror, a low sigh leaves your lips.
The lines on your features have deepened and increased, small indents showcasing near the corners of your eyes and your mouth. Your cheeks have become hollow, bone beginning to surface and protrude out. The bottom of your eyes have darkened, skin sagging down.
There's a saying you’ve roughly heard in passing – one that Namjoon’s mother had echoed to you when his father had passed away and you were inquiring how she was.
She had said that for many couples, after your spouse passes away, the grief only seems to accelerate the aging process tenfold and that it wouldn’t be too long till her own day would come.
At the moment, the thought itself was devastating to hear. But you never thought a day would come when her words would be so utterly true, your face having aged more within one year compared to the last five years you had spent with Namjoon.
After washing up solemnly in silence, you pad back through into the desolate bedroom, before exiting and slowly descending down the stairs.
Naree’s voice echoes through the room.
“...–not eating on time and barely talks, I just don’t know what to do anymore.”
“It comes with age.” Her husband, Seojun, echoes, “You should know that she’s growing old.”
“I know,” She huffs, “But she won’t even go through my father’s belongings, instead she insists on keeping everything the same and it’s been so long–”
You quietly clear your throat, leaning against the staircase beside the kitchen. Naree spins around with wide eyes and both of them freeze, as if they had been caught.
“Mom–”
“I’m feeling tired.” You simply say.
“Let me make you some tea.” She brings up immediately and you nod, turning around with another word. Naree and her husband glance at each other silently, before she moves towards the kettle.
You walk over to sit down on the large couch at the side in the living room, the one that has enough cushions for your hunched back. Sitting down with a large heave, your gaze falls onto the window.
A small girl stumbles into the room.
Her wide eyes are bright, a familiar dimpled smile on her lips and a photo in her hands.
There’s a soft upturn to your lips and she beams, rushing over in an instant.
“Grandma!” she squeals, body falling near your legs and head landing in your lap. Another younger girl pads in quietly behind, following her older sister with curious eyes.
“Nayoung.” You reach out and tenderly stroke the eldest girl’s hair, who is around eight years old, before moving your eyes to the four year old behind her, “Dambi.”
The youngest smiles and you widen your arm, to which she pads closer and rests within your embrace.
You hug your grandchildren with all the love you have left to offer.
“Grandma!” Nayoung excitedly rambles, placing a frame into your withered hands, “Is the baby in this Mom?”
You take it and flip it around, eyes widening to find the picture of you, a small child in your arms and Namjoon’s hand resting on your shoulder. You’re smiling but your eyes are brimming with tears, as so are his as the baby stays rested within your comfortable embrace.
Your eyes gloss over for a split second, but you sniffle, bringing your attention back to your granddaughter.
“No, it isn’t.” You explain, “It’s my son…. your Uncle Haneul.”
Nayoung stares at you with surprise, glancing at the photo frame again. “Uncle Haneul?”
You slowly nod and she continues to stare with fascination, even glancing back at Dambi and pointing towards it like she had uncovered a hidden secret.
“Where’s Uncle Haneul?” Dambi ponders, and your eyes soften.
“Following in his father’s footsteps.” You whisper, “He became a professor, and he’s been exploring the world for his research.”
Ever since Namjoon passed away. – you want to add.
You take the frame from Nayoung’s hands, “This picture is when he was first born, before your mother was.”
Haneul and Naree. After years of love and even more years of building a life together – a relationship, a marriage, a home, you and Namjoon had decided that you wanted to have kids. Through the ups and downs, the panics of pregnancy to the bliss of becoming parents, you both were blessed with two children that you love dearly.
In return, Haneul had ultimately decided that becoming a parent wasn’t something he had desired, something both you and Namjoon had understood from afar and confirmed when he had brought it up to you. Instead, he wanted to travel and was inclined to be hungry for knowledge, much like Namjoon himself. You had to convince him to leave after Namjoon’s passing, insisting that life was too short and he should be living his, instead of fretting over the family.
On the flip side, Naree married her husband a couple of years back, and you had met your precious granddaughters, Nayoung and Dambi, within that time frame.
Within forty-seven years of marriage, you had seen it all, but it still comes racing back to you in a heartbeat, the memories still so vivid as you stare back at the single snapshot that captured it all.
Nayoung watches you with a smile, and Dambi mumbles something that has light coming back to your eyes.
“You used to be so pretty, Grandma.” The four year old states it so nonchalantly, resulting in her older sister gasping and whipping her head around.
“Hey! Grandma is still pretty.” Nayoung persists.
You deeply sigh, “I’ve gotten old, haven’t I?”
“No, no!” Nayoung furiously shakes her head, “You’re not– …well, you are old, Grandma, but still so pretty!”
A smile cracks onto your lips, long having forgotten what it felt like. Nayoung shifts, eyes growing uneasy.
“Grandma…a-are you crying?”
You sniffle, hurriedly wiping away your tears, The two children stare at you with rounded eyes and you softly chuckle, widening your arms.
“How about you help Grandma feel a bit better?”
Nayoung reacts immediately, launching herself into your arms as you bring her into your lap and rest your head against hers. Dambi crawls up the sofa and you pull her in as well, embracing the two with quivering arms.
Even in this bleak and lonely world, you are relieved to have them by your side.
***
Naree stands by the living room entrance, a cup of tea in her hands.
“Girls, it’s time to wash up and get ready for lunch.” She announces, and the two children glance up, before immediately rising to their feet.
They both give you a quick wave before they’re scurrying away upstairs.
Naree brings the cup and sets it down on the table in front of you.
“Mom.” She calls out and you turn to look at her. “Can we talk?”
A deep sigh leaves you and you sink back into the chair, knowing it was all impossible to avoid.
“I suppose.” You comply and she sits down on the couch opposite you, facing you directly.
“I was talking…to Seojun…” At the topic of her husband, you shift and she continues cautiously, “I know how you feel about Dad, and he does too.”
Your eyes downcast, “But we should really move his things into the storage room, Mom.”
“And what about me?” You chuckle underneath your breath, “Are you eventually going to move me too?”
“Mom.” She chides, letting out a long sigh. She looks tired, just like you. “It’s been a year since Dad passed away.”
And a year since everyone had forgotten about him.
You want to add, but keep silent, “I just think it’s really time to move forward…”
There’s a deep ache within your chest, that only grows with her words. You knew this conversation was inevitable, but how were you to explain?
How were you to explain that ever since Namjoon passed away, you’ve been consumed with an exorbitant amount of feelings that you could barely grasp?
Immense guilt that somehow through all this, you were still here while his death was so sudden. That you were still breathing and intact, all while he had struggled to do the same?
Utter anger that he had left you here all by yourself after spending nearly half a century together, how he didn’t just take you with him, instead of you waking up everyday, longing to see him again.
And of course – the grief. Perhaps the most painful of them all.
You can’t go through his things without breaking down, reopening the jarring wound his demise has left over and over again when you see his clothes, his shoes, his belongings. The last remains of his existence and the last things you can desperately clutch on, mimicking a supposed fabrication of him still being with you.
You wrap your arms around yourself, shaking your head with shut eyes.
“My answer is firm, Naree.”
“Mom.” She exasperatedly says, frustrated with your stubbornness that mimics her own. After all, she’s inherited your personality, except you’ve lived longer with all your experiences exceeding all of hers.
“I’m exhausted.” You simply state, willing your shaking legs to get up. Once they do, you grab onto your cane, trudging towards the staircase.
Naree is silent as she watches you struggling to get up, unable to explain how much grief has been brought to her. Everyday she’s forced to watch her mother fall into a slump, surrounding herself with past memories and unable to break out of her shell. She’s granted only the fleeting moment of your former self when you interact with her daughters, but a part of her always wonders if a part of you had died alongside her father that day, that she ended up losing both her parents in some twisted way.
She rubs her temples, feeling absolutely drained and tired beyond belief.
A week passes by.
There’s barely any change in your routine. You remain within your bedroom majority of the time, sleeping and occasionally being reminded to eat. You don’t speak much, carrying a solemn gaze and a deep frown on your lips.
You don’t see much of Naree or Seojun, both of them occupied with their jobs and not making any effort to speak to you for the duration.
However, one night you find them by the kitchen table, sitting opposite from each other.
It was late into the hours and you had suddenly woken, on your way down for a glass of water.
Naree stills. “Mom–”
“What were you talking about?” You question, and Naree knows.
She knows that you heard pieces of their conversation. The conversation about how drained she felt lately, work taking its everlasting toll on her, right before Seojun suggested taking a vacation and going out on a trip with the family. To the conversation shifting, Naree spilling out her worries and concerns about you, your old age and how much she could see your health deteriorating, to how much she can’t get through to you anymore, how much she’s just given up.
However, what’s caught most of your attention is the sudden mention of a certain kind of home, one that notoriously knows how to take care of the elderly properly.
“We should talk.” Seojun states, pulling out a chair for you. You reluctantly take it, slowly sitting down as your gaze oscillates between them.
Naree sucks in a deep breath, looking at her husband uneasily. “We were thinking…”
“That it might be time for us to try something different.” Seojun finishes, glancing at you intently.
You cut to the chase. “What are you trying to get at?”
There’s a pause and Naree fidgets, eyes focusing onto her hands.
Her next words have you freezing.
“Mom…how would you feel about moving into an old age home?” Naree mutters.
A rigid chuckle leaves you, “So this is what it’s coming to, huh?”
“Mom, please.” Naree insists in defense and if you weren’t so entrapped within your own thoughts, perhaps you would have noticed the fatigue running deep in her eyes or the stiffness in her shoulders, “It’s not an easy decision…but we’ve really thought about this.”
Correction – Seojun has thought about this. You vaguely remember him bringing it up once, much to Naree’s protests and he let it slip by then.
But now, you have grown older and gone through grief, which doesn’t make it implausible to bring up again.
Except this time, you’re alone, not having Namjoon with you anymore to see eye to eye with Seojun as he always did and convincing him that you were better off together.
You miss him so much.
“Your health hasn’t been the same, Mom.” Naree explains, “And both Seojun and I go to work, the girls go off to school and–”
She deeply sighs, eyes becoming glossy. “I know, Mom…I know you’re lonely.”
You squeeze your eyes shut.
“Ever since Dad passed away, I think our relationship has changed,” She simply states, her next words driving a wedge through your heart “…and I don’t think we have the same capability to take care of you anymore.”
You sigh, glancing up to look straight into Naree’s eyes for the first time since Namjoon’s passing.
“It’s the trip too, isn’t it? The girls want to go, but you’ve resisted for a while.” You mention, “You kept saying that I needed you, and that you’ll eventually go, but you had to stay behind because of me.”
Naree winces at how direct you are, not missing a heartbeat of the reality you’ve been noticing since the past year.
Sucking in a breath, you ignore the deep ache residing within your chest, pushing it back into the farthest corner.
“Fine.” You solemnly state, barely having energy anymore. “I’ll go, if that’s what you want.”
Relief breaks out onto Naree’s features and Seojun softly smiles. You suppose it was bound to happen eventually, better sooner than later, and perhaps it would do some good for you, to continue on somehow.
That is, knowing this will be your last days within the home you had once built with Namjoon.
The move happens within a couple of days.
Your bags are packed, with clothes and smaller belongings tossed in. Peering around, you stare at Namjoon’s side of the bed, ready to leave it as it is.
But you step forward, glancing down at the book he was in the middle of reading. It was another dystopian sci-fi book he was curious about, having heard good reviews about it.
You place it into your arms, giving the room one longing look before ultimately shutting the door.
Naree and you sit in the car in silence, as you gaze out the window and reminisce over the passing neighborhood.
You and Namjoon were incredibly young when you had first moved here, hunting down homes and furiously checking the pricing of the housing market. It had been only a couple of weeks since your marriage, both of you fresh out of college and in entry jobs when he had stumbled upon the location, coming up to you with bright eyes one day.
The nostalgia brims in your eyes, but soon Naree is tapping against your shoulder.
“We’re here.” She announces and you nod, before she proceeds to come over and take out your bags.
You glance around with a frown.
It's a small residential area, appearing more like a stretched out home with many windows, accompanied with a garden area at the front that spreads to the back.
Stepping inside, it doesn’t seem to get better.
The walls are a dull white, and sunlight pours in from the windows, nearly blinding you. There’s a reception area that Naree steps closer to talk to, but you stand with a frown still on your lips, peering into the room at the corner, where you can hear laughs and chuckles.
There's a bunch of chairs, with people around your age seated and conversing. They’re smiling alongside each other, while some others are knitting as well as playing cards. It takes you off guard for a moment, not accustomed to seeing so many closer to your age range after being around your own family members for so long.
The place seems to smit a sense of peace with a hint of melancholy, and you’re truthfully not sure about how you feel about it.
“They’re all set-up, Mom.” Naree walks closer to you and you turn, seeing her glance at her watch. “I need to get to work soon.”
You hum and Naree still stands in spot, as if deeply contemplating.
“Mom…I–”
“Have fun with the kids.” You mutter, “Take them to nice places, places they want to see.”
She nods, not lingering for a moment longer as she reluctantly turns around – leaving you all by yourself once again.
It's… unsettling.
Everything follows a schedule and each day repeats, constantly. You’re told when to eat, when to sleep, when to do something fun – as they would like to call it – and the worst part of it all, you’re surrounded by strangers who know each other all too well.
You, in the meanwhile, have been already quoted as being too quiet and solemn, something that makes you want to wrap up into yourself even more. You were never good at connecting with new people, regardless of where you were.
Namjoon was always the sociable one, effortlessly commanding a room with his charm and charisma. You would sheepishly stand next to him, but he would always manage to include you somehow, making you feel less cut off from others.
You let out a sigh – perhaps the only time you actually feel comfort is through the night, tucked underneath the streets with a book wrapped around your cold arms, sniffling as you’re surrounded with unfamiliar things in an unfamiliar room and attempting to lull yourself to sleep.
Because moments like those are where you finally get to welcome his presence wholeheartedly.
You blink,squinting your eyes and raising your hand to block the sun.
Except it’s not the same hand you’re used to – rather it’s no longer wrinkled, with your veins popping out and hands no longer tremoring.
They feel strong, and you open and close your palm a few times astonished.
A pair of small legs tumble into your own and you gasp, glancing down at the boy who has the same features as your husband.
He grins widely, “Mommy!”
“Haneul?!” You harshly whisper, raising the boy before lifting him into your arms. He looks no more than four years old.
Haneul is four, which means can only mean–
You are thirty-four.
Glancing around, your eyes are snapping around frantically – taking in the expansive backyard which you barely would step in anymore, now littered with Nayoung and Dambi’s toys. The house that you left behind, just recently newly renovated upon your insistence. And your son, who looks up at you with wide eyes, as if you’re his entire world.
You attempt to hold him close, biting back the sobs that threaten to take over you.
A loud yelp resonates through the air.
Your breath hitches, knowing that voice from anywhere. Whipping your head around, your legs are stronger, and you take long strides without needing a cane, carrying your son in your arms.
For there’s a small shed in the corner of your backyard and if you’re right, if your memory doesn’t fail you.
The shed needs to be fixed and Namjoon took upon the task himself.
The door goes flying open and his back is the first thing you see.
“Not again…” He sighs, a hand planting against his forehead. There’s a bucket of paint that’s fallen to the ground, along with patches of the white colour sprayed against his ankles.
You slowly set your smiling son down, who giggles and runs to his father. Namjoon instantly looks down, his hand reaching out that Haneul eagerly takes.
Your voice comes out in a choked whisper.
“N-Namjoon?”
He turns with a huge smile and you’ve forgotten. Forgotten how crystal clear your memory once was, knowing his dark hair, crinkled eyes and dimpled smile anywhere. How much that smile hasn’t changed at all, fine lines maring around the corners instead, next to his grey strands of hair and weakened eyes.
How despite the years – he’ll always be the same man you fell in love with.
“Y/N.” He deeply enunciates, concern etching onto his features.
“You’re crying, what– …” He takes long strides towards you, whispering as his hand makes contact with your cheek, “What’s wrong?”
You sniffle, the tears pouring down as you’re no longer able to hold them back.
Namjoon nearly stumbles back when you grasp onto him, wrapping your arms around him tightly. He hugs you back, comfortingly resting his head against your forehead.
“I-I missed you.” You sob out, not wanting to let him go.
“Missed me?” Namjoon softly chuckles, threading his hand through your hair. “I’ve always been here, Y/N.”
He separates you from him, holding onto your shoulders as he tenderly looks into your eyes.
“I’m always here, Y/N.”
You’re suddenly pulled away, away from his comforting embrace and eyes as a white light flashes over your eyes.
You jolt awake, hearing only the faint sound of the heater echoing through the unfamiliar room. Reality crashes down onto you, painfully reminding you of your current location.
The other side of the bed remains cold and empty.
The days churn by, and you are as miserable as ever.
You sit quietly by the side and stare out the window, hearing a few others engage in conversation in small groups. There was something about doing a painting activity, but you had paid it no mind, too focused on the garden outside and grasping onto the book that sits on your lap.
“Before I came here, my husband passed away three years ago.” A voice from afar begins. It comes from a woman, who appears much older than you. “It happened so quickly, I-I didn’t know how to deal with it.”
There's a man sitting next to her, spotting a collared shirt and dark black hair. He looks younger than both of you, and he somberly listens to her.
“How long were you together?” He wonders.
“Fifty-five years.” The woman sadly chuckles, “We spent every day, every moment together…and then one day he was just gone.”
Your heart clenches, no longer staring out the window. You don’t mean to eavesdrop, but you’ve learned it's difficult when you’re surrounded by so many others, stories from so many different phases of life pouring out effortlessly in a single room.
“I’ve heard it all,” She continues. “That he was in a better place, that I would heal with time, even that his time was bound to come soon….I-It hurt, a lot.”
You watch as tears fill her eyes and her sadness fills the small space you’re in, a lump in your throat starting to form. You attempt to pucker your lips, threaten to silence yourself as much as possible, but the words spill out with far too much ease.
“My husband…” You suck in a breath when her gaze falls onto you in surprise. “He…he passed away, about a year ago.”
Her features twist, understanding deep within her eyes.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.”
You give her a half-smile and she presses forward, “How many years?”
“Forty-seven.” You state, adding with a sad note “We never got to fifty…”
She solemnly nods and something in her gaze is just too much, alleviating the tension that has been festering and brewing within you.
“He was kind, a little clumsy and forgetful, but still very kind.” You remorsefully chuckle. “Sometimes, it’s scary, like he’s never existed…and other days, I want to see him again, almost like–”
You silence yourself, eyes clamping shut as a deep ache within your chest just spreads and amplifies.
A voice tugs you out of your thoughts.
“Like what?” It’s the man next to the older woman, his gaze still on you.
Your voice comes out in an anguished whisper, “Like how he visits me in my dreams.”
It sounds strange and bizarre, you know this. But you’re startled when you glance up, only to find that woman giving you a kind look and the man softly smiling, as if he finds the notion to be pleasant.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” He piques, “Seeing them again, as if they never left to begin with…”
You stare at him in bewilderment, attempting to muster words up.
But he beats you to it.
“Five years.” He informs, like he knew what you wanted to ask. “Since my wife’s been gone.”
You shake your head, not fully realizing his circumstance.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to assume–”
“It’s okay.” He lets out a low chuckle, “I look much younger than I actually am.”
You hum, acknowledging it right away. Alongside appearing younger, you notice his disposition appears to be the same as well, being much laid-back compared to anyone else you’ve seen here.
“What’s your name?” He asks, “I’ve seen you a couple times, but I think this is our first time talking.”
“I-I’m not one for talking much…” You note, but he quirks his head to the side, like he didn’t believe that. “And it’s Y/N, Kim Y/N.”
“I’m Jung Hoseok.” He introduces, gesturing to the woman next to him. “This is Lee Haewon.”
She directs a friendly smile towards you and you attempt to return it back.
“How old are both of you?” You wonder.
“I’m eighty-five.” Haewon answers, squinting her eyes at the man, “Last I remember, Hoseok is sixty-seven.”
“Seventy, Haewon.” He politely corrects, but with no malice. Almost as if he was expecting for her to get it wrong.
She deeply exhales, shaking her head in exasperation.
“My own name is going to be next.”
“Don’t worry about that.” His eyes flicker to you, “When the time comes, we’ll be here to remind you again.”
You nod in assurance and she warmly smiles, placing her cold hand on top of yours. You slowly grasp onto it and Haewon doesn’t move at all, instead ushering for you to sit closer to them.
For once, the weight on your chest feels a bit lighter.
The next day, you’re placed in groups again.
However, this time the head of the home brings out various board games onto the tables, to which everyone requests for different ones and are soon creating circles.
Despite the head asking for you to join this time, you sit in the same spot you had previously sat at, right beside the window as your eyes take in the others playing.
The loud sound of a chair screeching against the floor startles you.
Hoseok looks up with an apologetic smile, a packet of cards in his hands.
You watch with bafflement at how he sets up the deck before you, leaning over to hand you a couple of them.
You take them reluctantly, wondering why he was here when he could just play with someone else, observing him lean back in his chair and cross his legs with a furrow in his brows.
Now knowing his age, it was easier to spot his older features. How, despite having better functioning legs compared to you, his back is slightly hunched, shoulders beginning to cave in. How, despite having a majority of darker strands, there were noticeable specks of grey in his hair. How his eyes have to so occasionally squint to look at the cards, a hearing aid poking out from his right ear as he tilts his head.
You also don’t fail to notice how as his brows furrow in concentration, two small dimples poke out from the corners of his cheeks.
“Your turn.” He calls out, having placed a card down.
You quickly look down at the cards, reluctantly placing one down. He continues to stare at his own intently.
“You know, it was nice of you to talk to Haewon.” He mentions.
You shake your head, “It wasn’t much, I was just talking about my husband anyways.”
“It meant more to her than you think.” He exhales, placing a card down. “Most folks here either ignore her, or tell her to just move on.”
A knowing smile crosses him, “I think we both know it isn’t as simple as that.”
“It never is.” You quietly mumble, placing a card down yourself.
Hoseok hums at that, putting another card down. You glance around warily, wondering why you hadn’t seen Haewon yet.
“By the way, where is she?”
“Asleep, I overheard that she felt tired.” Hoseok does a half-smile, before it’s replaced with his usual nonchalant expression.
You nod, curious about their proximity, “Have you known her for long?”
Hoseok shrugs, “A bit, I just got to know her in the past couple of months. You know, the good ol’ chit chatting with one other while being in the same room.”
His straight-forwardness catches you off guard, shocked by how settled he was.
“You seem pretty comfortable being here.” You note, observing him as he glances up.
“I have to be.” He states with a lop-sided smile, “It’s the same for everyone here. After all, nobody came because they wanted to.”
You freeze, forehead creasing as you stare at him blankly. Hoseok’s gaze lands on you, confusion running through it.
“Y/N?” He ponders, wondering why you weren’t playing your turn. You snap out of your daze, placing your cards down.
“I-I just remembered something I needed to do–” You quietly say, slowly rising to your feet and locating your cane. “Maybe you should play with someone else…”
For a split-second, Hoseok tosses his cards and rises to his feet, as if to halt your steps. But you’re already walking away and he falters, slumping back down into his seat
His eyes are tinged with an indescribable emotion.
You don’t know if you can be here any longer.
But there’s nothing you can do about it. The days pass by and no one comes for you, no one tries to see how you are, how you’re feeling and it dawns one simple resolution to you.
You’ve been abandoned here. Forever.
The next day arrives and you clench your jaw, stepping out of the suffocating room that has been starting to feel more like a decorated prison than anything else. You wonder if you should come up with some excuse of staying back, preoccupying yourself with anything else rather than the activity of the day.
But that’s until you’re informed you’ll be taken to the garden.
Taking a step outside, it’s absolutely serene. There’s handfuls of well-maintained roses, peonies and tulips flourishing, all lush and blooming around the home. It’s both tranquil and inviting, the head informing you that there were watering cans, shovels and new seeds to be planted for everyone.
You secure a can right away, propelling yourself forward with your cane towards the peonies.
A small smile lines your lips.
“Y/N!”
You spin around, in the midst of cooing and feeding your one year daughter as she babbles on her high chair.
Namjoon stands at the door, huffing with a wide smile on his lips.
He raises his hand, a single purple peony sticking out.
You gasp in astonishment, “You finally grew one!”
“I did!” He exclaims. It had been months since he had been trying, your home littered with his bonsai collection until he wanted to try his hand at outdoor planting.
He dashes over and scoops you in her arms, making you chuckle from his victory. Grabbing onto your hand, he edges you to follow.
“Come on, you need to help me water them!”
Laughing, you grasp onto Naree, letting him guide you.
The water pours out from the small canister, sprinkling delicately onto the small petals. You watch with so much fondness, for so much love for the flower, as your hands continue to tremble.
It slips from your hands and smacks against the pavement.
You watch as the water spills everywhere and with a huff, quickly attempting to grasp it. But your knees violently shake, and your hands tremor far too much. You attempt again and again to bend down, but your attempts are all futile, more and more of the contents emptying and spreading out.
Tears unknowingly prick at your eyes and your breathing is heavy, limbs aching from the sudden physical exertion.
The smooth metal gently glides across your fingertips.
You blink, confused eyes glancing up to meet Hoseok’s softened ones. You’re left frozen as he carefully tips it, his hand grasping the canister against yours and letting the water rain over the peonies.
You let him guide you, the water running through the remaining ones before it empties.
“Wait here for a moment.” He directs you to a bench, holding your hands as you carefully descend down onto it.
You observe as he saunters over to the hose, filling it with water again before letting out a satisfied hum. He then manages to grasp onto a handful of seeds and grabs onto a small shovel.
He returns to you, “You should plant some too.”
You quietly nod and he reaches his arm out, as if gesturing for you to hold on. You grasp onto him and he slows his pace, walking at yours.
Everytime, you point at a certain spot, he leans down, making a hole into the dirt before dropping the seed in and sealing it with fresh water. He does it along the edge of the garden, right where the window to your room should be.
He lets out a loud huff with the last one, chest rising and falling alarmingly.
Your eyes widen, having completely forgotten his condition of age.
“I-I’ll go get you some water.”
Hoseok opens his mouth to protest that he’s okay, but you’re already propelling yourself forward, cane frantically hitting against the pavement.
He wheezes, letting out a couple of coughs before you’re standing near him, a water bottle in your hands that he gratefully accepts.
“Are you okay?” You ask right away and he nods, turning to the flowers.
“They’re beautiful.” He states and you hum, the wind weaving through the air.
“I love peonies.” You quietly admit, and Hoseok grins, handing you the water bottle.
He takes a couple steps forward, drawing closer to the older batch. Among all the colors, he snatches onto a bright orange peony, handing it to you with a soft smile.
You bring it closer to you, the corners of your mouth upturning.
It reminds you of the warm hues of the sun.
Your hands tremor and shake, bone sticking out from your softened skin. It doesn’t help that the joints within your bones are incredibly stiff and deeply ache with each movement.
A frustrated sigh escapes your lips, and the needles looped in yarn falling down to your lap.
Hoseok chuckles, reaching out and grasping onto where you’ve left off, attempting his hardest to cross them, pushing one needle into one end and looping it around.
“You’ve missed a stitch.” You point out and he frowns, noticing the small hole he’s created instead.
“Now how did that happen?” He deeply ponders, and a small smile tugs on your lips as he carefully inspects the placement, staring at it up and down.
“You have to loop it carefully,” You softly explain, reaching over to place your trembling hand on his, “It should go through this stitch and then you let go of it to create the knot.”
He follows your instructions, observing as you slowly tug his hand away from the loop, letting it unravel into a perfect stitch.
Hoseok beams, throwing a grin in your direction and you look at him amused.
“I think we make a lovely team.”
You smile lop-sidely, “I don’t know, it’s more of me telling you what to do.”
“A very important role.” He notes, raising the yarn up in his hands, “After all, this is now our group project.”
You chuckle at that and he gazes at you fondly, eyes crinkling.
“Kim Y/N?” The sound of your name has both you and Hoseok glancing up, “There’s someone here at the front foyer asking for you.”
Your brows furrow, but then you catch the sight of a familiar silhouette.
You scramble up from your seat, vision fixated on the backside of the person. Hoseok notices, immediately rising to his feet and handing you your cane, observing as you attempt to hurriedly stride over to the desk.
“Naree.” You whisper, watching your daughter turn around wide-eyed.
“Mom.” She steps forward, and you don’t hesitate to reach out, enveloping your trembling hands tightly around her shoulders.
“You’re here, you’re actually here.” Your eyes are glossy. “I-I thought you left me by myself, I kept thinking about–”
You freeze, surveying the way Naree’s eyes downturn, face void of expression.
It doesn’t take long for you to connect the dots.
Your voice cracks, “You’re not here for me, are you…?”
Naree sighs, “I was just on my way to work, and thought I’d stop by to see you.”
“That’s all?” You mutter, but Naree latches onto your arm.
“Mom.” She chides, but you don’t even want to look at her, “Isn’t this all better for you? You’re not lonely anymore.”
“You’re wrong.” You feel more abandoned than ever. “And this all isn’t better for me, it’s better for you.”
Your words are venomous and the corner of Naree’s mouth twitches.
“How can you say that?” Naree sharply rebuttals. The two of you don’t notice all the lingering eyes watching your interaction, including Hoseok’s. “I want you to come back, but I discussed it with Seojun and we agreed you’d be happier here.”
“And where was I in this decision?” You snap. “Or are Seojun’s words now more important than mine?”
Naree’s nostrils flare and she looks like she’s had enough.
She shakes her head, mumbling to coax herself. “Here I thought that dropping by was a good idea.” Her gaze is directly on you, hurt swirling in her eyes. “But now I’ve realized I made a big mistake.”
Naree turns on her heels, her fists clenched and rage enveloping every fiber of her being. You don’t make a move to stop her, simply staring at her backside and the growing gap each of her steps creates.
There’s a deep ache within the center of your chest, one that expands and spreads, consuming you completely as your daughter abandons you once again.
***
Everything feels like it’s crashing down.
You’re seated within your room, having dismissed yourself and leaving your knitting session with Hoseok behind. You desperately needed to be alone, mind plaguing over and over with the image of Naree leaving, disappointment and rage embedded into her being.
You wonder if you should have reached out, should have begged, for her to take you alongside with her. To take you back to the home you once shared with Namjoon and your family, wanting to feel the familiarity and the warmth that home contains.
A sci-fi book rests within your lap, fingertips clenching onto it. You wonder if he can see everything, hear everything about the family you’ve created leaving you behind, casting you away like a mere thought that shoulders over them.
Thick tears drop down, staining the paper of the book in your hands. Anguished cries leave you, shoulders shuddering as everything crumbles.
You want to see him again, want to wrap your arms around him as he holds you comfortingly, want to have him shield you away from all these terrifying thoughts, ones that are absent of him. You hate how fast he was taken away, and wonder why he couldn’t have just taken you along with him.
A soft knock resonates against the door.
You peer up, cheeks stained with tears and breaths coming out choked. You quickly set the book down, raising your sleeve to wipe away any existence of them.
Padding slowly through the room, you wrap your hand around the knob and carefully open it.
Hoseok stands in front of you, gaze downcasted and shoulders hunched in. It takes you by surprise, never having seen such a lack of optimism in his form.
He looks up, eyes welling with tears.
“Y/N.” He chokes, orbs widening at your appearance. “I-I can come again.”
Before he can turn, you reach out, barely managing to graze his shirt.
The expression he holds draws fear out from you. “I-Is everything okay?
He pursues his lips, like he was attempting to prevent himself from tearing up, before he breathes out the words.
“N-No, not really…” He sniffles, a lone tear escaping him. “H-Haewon…Haewon’s gone.”
Your breath hitches, features twisting. “S-She just passed an hour ago…in her sleep.”
His shoulders slump, eyes squeezing shut.
“I-I couldn’t say g-goodbye….”
You step forward, arms wrapping around him in an instant. Hoseok shrinks within them, harsh sobs shuddering through his body. Tears unleash from your eyes, fisting the material of his shirt.
You don’t know how long you stay like that, wrapped around in your collective grief.
You are dazed.
You find out that aside from being widowed, Haewon only had one son who was in a different country. He doesn’t come to the funeral, and it’s simply attended by a few individuals she had the opportunity to connect with at the old age home.
Which includes you and Hoseok, standing next to each other in black clothing as you watch her casket be buried alongside her husband. Hoseok is silent the entire time, eyes empty.
You knew you weren’t as close to her as Hoseok was, but Haewon was a woman that had given you compassion when you had been desperately searching for it, not even hesitating to listen to your story. She shared the experience of having lost her husband and you recall Hoseok mentioning that she wanted to see him again, even if it meant being in the next life.
You didn’t speak much to Lee Haewon, but she was such a crystal clear reflection of you – a woman dwindling with so much grief that she could barely hold.
Her casket is completely buried and you reach out as Hoseok shudders, a tsunami of emotions hitting him all at once. Your wrinkled hand slides in with his, clutching onto it. He squeezes back tightly, as if you were the only thing anchoring him to reality.
You quietly part together, bidding her your final farewell.
Something is never the same in you after Haewon’s passing.
It’s difficult to explain, the tightening sensation that coils around in your chest with no means of stopping. Your mind flashes back to instances with her, the kind and friendly smile she would always adorn. Or the way her hand was cold but still so warm, ushering you to come closer to her.
It’s crushing, unable to bear with how fast life moves, clutching onto those whose time is no longer needed on earth.
And it’s coupled with another feeling, one that is more erratic and rapid, making you nearly hyperventilate the more you sit in your room, the more you stare at the unfamiliar walls encasing around you at all four corners.
It feels like it’s all you’ll be left with, bidding your own time goodbye within them.
Which is why you leave, heading out your room door and into the garden. You don’t want to follow a schedule, or do activities, simply asking for permission to escape for a brief moment so you feel like you can breathe once again.
And it seems like you’re not the only one with the same idea.
Hoseok sits on a bench a bit farther from the garden and house, his backside facing you and against the sun that begins to rise, peeking through the grass and illuminating its rays through the orange sky.
It draws you in, and you walk forward in a daze.
You slowly sit down, back resting against the wood and setting your crane to the side. Hoseok’s attention flickers over to you.
You quirk up a soft smile, “Couldn’t sleep?”
He blinks after a moment, shaking his head with a sigh.
“No….no, not really.”
You hum, knowingly. “The sunrise is beautiful.”
He nods silently.
You sit in silence, enjoying the breeze wafting through the area and the way the clouds move rotationally, drifting through the clouds. The orange hues morph into the briefest of purple, light spreading over your skin and remaining within your irises.
You suck in a sharp inhale.
“Kim Namjoon.” You state as Hoseok turns to look at you, “My husband, who left me a year ago. He was followed by Kim Naree, my daughter, who left me a month ago.”
His eyes find your own. “And then followed by Lee Haewon, who left us a week ago.”
Your voice breaks. “I-I don’t know if I can handle anyone else leaving me...”
Hoseok’s hand reaches out, placing it on top of yours.
The corner of his mouth remorsefully curls up. “Don’t count me out so easily.”
You smile, for the first time in weeks, and the sunrise takes over the sky.
Taking up the opportunity, you vocalize all your innermost thoughts, “I’m not sure if I exactly belong here…I know I feel less lonely at least, but I don’t know if I can stay anymore.”
“You want to leave.” Hoseok states, like he understands.
Your words hold an infinite amount of weight, “I-I’m just…terrified. Terrified that I’ll be spending my last days here.”
“Where do you want to go?” He genuinely questions.
“Home.” You let out a low chuckle, “If that’s even possible anymore.”
“It can be.” Hoseok softly smiles, two dimples showcasing on his face.
You reach out, clasping onto his head. “Come with me…please.”
You know it’s a completely selfish request, especially when he seems to be much more comfortable here.
But you forget that Hoseok has lost as well, defeat encasing the man more and more as the days draw out. It seems like you’re still his anchor, drawing him back before he’s completely gone.
His hand tightens his hold on you.
“Let’s go home,Y/N.”
You stand in front of your home.
It wasn't easy coming here. You had to be granted permission to leave the vicinity and it wasn’t the simplest task for Hoseok either, needing to prove the two of you would be functional to do so. You suppose you could have laced it over with a visit, but you couldn’t stay any longer, not there anymore.
A shaky exhale leaves you and Hoseok reaches out, lacing his fingers with yours and having a comforting smile.
You knock against the door.
The door comes swinging wide open and you’re confronted with the sight of your son-in-law.
Seojun stares at you blankly, as if you were a mere ghost, glancing between you and Hoseok in disbelief.
“Nice to see you again.” You state, stepping into the household. It looks the same – the same couch, the same curtains and the same memories. It’s almost like you never left to begin with.
“You’re back.” A voice acknowledges from the staircase, and you look up.
Your eyes lock onto Naree’s, who stands in the long hallway, arms crossed and holding a hardened gaze.
“You look like you’ve been well.” You reply with a smile, but her gaze is concentrated on the man standing with you.
“Who is this?” She questions, and your eyes widen.
Hoseok immediately steps up with a friendly smile, “My name is Jung Hoseok. It’s nice to meet you.”
Naree stares at Hoseok’s outstretched hand, not moving to shake it or say anything back. After years of raising her, you know exactly what her response means.
She’s inspecting him, wondering why you showed up out of the blue with a man near the same age as her father.
She doesn’t say another word, simply turning her back and walking into the kitchen. It makes you want to almost laugh, how it doesn’t take her much effort to easily disregard you at this point, so much that it doesn’t even hurt and you simply just expect it.
Seojun glances between the two of you, clearly taken aback with the situation and unsure of how to react.
You walk past him, heading up the staircase with Hoseok.
“I’ll be in my room.” You declare, the door shutting behind you.
***
All of it has been moved.
Despite the house not changing, the people have changed, and so have the contents of the room you once shared with Namjoon.
All of his belongings are gone, stowed away in airtight boxes.
Like he never even existed to begin with.
Your shaking hands reach out. “No…no, no–”
You stumble, collapsing onto the ground.
“Y/N!” Hoseok reaches forward in an instant, steadying you.
“Everything’s gone, Hoseok. They moved everything–”
Tears are streaming down your eyes and Hoseok is clutching onto you as you sob.
“Shh, it’s not gone.” He coaxes, reaching out for one of the boxes. His hands are tremoring but he still claws at the tape, unraveling the plastic back and tossing it aside. The box unfolds and he shifts it over to you, wanting you to see your husband’s things first hand.
You catch sight of one of his jacket’s.
Reaching out, you gasp onto the material, staring at it in awe. It was one Namjoon used to love to wear, tossing it on when you would ask him to go out on walks with you, or consequently the one that was placed on your shoulders when he noticed you shivering in the wake of fall.
You wrap it around your arms, the amount of comfort from the action easing your heart a bit.
Hoseok softly smiles, shifting over another box. He opens it to reveal a stack of books, distinctly looking similar to the one you always carried in your lap.
“Did he like to read a lot?” He ponders, and you nod, curiously looking over his shoulder.
It all snaps – and the excitement washes over more quickly than you can stop it.
“He did.” You lean over, grasping onto a title, “This was one of his favorites, he used to read it all the time. And this one,” You pick up another title, “He used it for his final thesis back in college, and asked me to read it with him.”
You chuckle, tears still streaming down your eyes. “He was always so smart, but asked me to check over everything he did.” You turn to Hoseok, who has softened eyes, “He was just an overthinker, you know? And I knew I always had to calm his mind somehow, so I would make him tea often when he was working.”
Hoseok simply watches. Watches at how much love you pour out for your late husband, how much adoration is in your voice and the tenderness in your eyes. It’s something he’s only had the pleasure of experiencing once in life, and it’s not something he’s found easily in others.
Namjoon is truly your soulmate.
“H-He would ask what magic I would p-put in it….all the time.” Your voice cracks at the end and Hoseok’s eyes shoot up into alarm.
“Y/N?” He shifts closer to you.
“I-I….” You squeeze your eyes shut, the realization donning faster than you can stop it. “I-I just can’t.”
“You can’t what?”
“I can’t.” You gasp out. “Namjoon, he’s….he’s everywhere.”
You can see him everywhere – in the things you hold, in the memories you’re left with, in the hopes and dreams you once had together. Your entire life had been constructed around him, and it’s something you didn’t notice until you were sitting in that very same room you shared, surrounded by his entire essence.
It's like you’re experiencing the grief all over again, except this time it’s worse because you’ve realized what you’ve truly lost.
Hoseok feels his own heart shattering into pieces. He can’t explain how much he knows exactly what you’re going through, how much letting go was an impossible task when you’ve had years and years, an entire timeline spent with someone after an eternal promise of forever.
A tear streams down his own eye and he moves closer, wrapping his arms around you and leaning his head against yours.
“H-Hoseok, I-I can’t….” You whisper, “I can’t live the rest of my life here. In only the memory of Namjoon and with a family that just doesn’t want me anymore….I-I just can’t do it.”
Hoseok shudders, letting out a small hum as you spill all your fears out to him.
“I-It’s okay, Y/N.” He manages to get out, “It’s okay to feel this way. I-I can’t even explain to you how normal it is to.”
– or how familiar. – he wants to say.
You sob and he parts from you, gazing into your eyes as he cups your face.
“What do you want, Y/N?” He earnestly questions. “What is your heart telling you?”
“I just want to leave….and go somewhere far, far away.” Far from here.
It almost sounds like a ridiculous fantasy, but Hoseok nods.
“How far?” He seriously ponders, “Like can we get there by bus? Do we need to take a train?”
The corner of your mouth curls up.
“Maybe by train. Buses are horrible to sit on for long hours.” You note with a sniffle.
Hoseok frowns, “You make it sound like we’re so old.”
“We are old, Hoseok.” You chuckle and he grins at the sound of it.
“Really? Say that again for me, I didn’t hear you the first time.” He turns his head, showcasing his hearing aid. You lightly hit his chest, before resting your head against him.
“I’ll take you wherever you want to go, Y/N.” He whispers in reassurance.
Reaching his hand, he lifts you up, ensuring your balance is okay. You keep your hand in his, tightening your hold on him.
***
You regain yourself, and Hoseok carefully holds onto you, taking you slowly down the stairs. He matches his steps with you, watching as your foot slowly descends down one step before planting his own down, your cane granting you the momentum.
Naree stands by the door, arms crossed and appearing to be waiting for someone.
Hoseok glimpses at you tenderly and you nod, alerting her attention to the sound of your cane against the ground.
She deeply sighs, “I have time to drop you back once you’re–”
“I’m not going back.”
Her brows furrow “What do you mean?”
“I’m leaving, Naree.” You declare, and that’s when her eyes snap onto yours and Hoseok’s interlaced hands.
There’s disbelief in her eyes, “You’re leaving with him?”
You nod and Naree shakes her head, as if her entire existence is being questioned.
“Mom, how could you?” She spits, “It’s only been a year since Dad passed away.”
“Naree–”
“I know you were feeling lonely, but out of all things this?”
The door suddenly widens and Seojun emerges, two little girls by his side.
Nayoung's eyes light up, “Grandma!”
“What’s going on?” Seojun interjects and Naree squeezes her eyes, shaking her head.
“Oh nothing, just my mother betraying my father.” She snaps, and his eyes widen.
He pushes Nayoung and Dambi away, “Girls, go upstairs.”
Nayoung begins to protest “But Grandma–”
“Go.”
She doesn’t say another word, simply downcasting her gaze. Dambi follows, but you can feel their gazes linger on you, and there’s nothing more you want to do in the moment then to bring the two girls into your arms.
“Naree, don’t do this.” You whisper, but her clenched fists are enough of an answer.
“Don’t do what? Be upset that my mother found someone else that isn’t my father?” She huffs, “How could you do this, Mom?”
She turns to Seojun who comforts her and you shift uncomfortably, wanting to disappear.
“With all due respect–” A previously silent voice pitches in, “I think you’re being incredibly unfair.”
You stare at Hoseok, who still holds a warm look in his eyes. “I’m not replacing your father, if that’s what you’re concerned about. Y/N still loves him very much, just like I do my wife.”
“But it wouldn’t hurt to consider that your mother has been by herself for quite a while and that hurts.” Hoseok sadly smiles, “Much deeper than you could possibly imagine.”
Naree looks at him startled and Seojun is baffled. There’s a silence that lingers and Hoseok tightens his hold on you, slowly heading towards the door.
“It was nice meeting all of you.” He simply responds, before leaving altogether.
There’s a multitude of words ready to tumble from you.
“Hoseok, I–”
“You don’t need to explain.” He insists, but then he shakes his head, as if suspended in disbelief. “I just can’t believe how they were treating you...”
You wince, finding yourself agreeing with his words. It seemed like all your doubts, all your fears, were cemented right in front of you and now you know.
You don’t belong there anymore.
You’re about to turn and tell Hoseok that you should collectively leave now, the desperation of going far away reaching a complete high, but that’s when your eyes catch onto movement.
“Hold on.” you quietly say, and Hoseok sends you a confused look. You carefully trudge your cane forward, slowly walking to the side of the house.
You freeze.
There's a silhouette of a tall man with dark hair standing by the garden, right next to the peonies and with a giant bag slung over his shoulder. His backside gives you so much whiplash at how distinctly familiar it looks and as if in a trance, you continue to move forward with furrowed brows.
You pause, the disbelief sinking in. He snaps his head around at the sound of your cane, narrowed eyes widening.
You whisper out his name, breath coming out shaky.
“H-Haneul?”
You had almost forgotten just how strikingly similar he looks to Namjoon, just how much he could easily be mistaken for a younger version of the man.
He widely smiles, expression brightening at the sight of you.
“Hi, Mom.” He takes long strides towards you, embracing you immediately. You wrap your arms around him tightly, a joyful smile on your lips.
You separate from him, attempting to get a good look at your son. “I-I can’t believe you’re here…”
He warmly grins, eyes flickering over to Hoseok. You immediately turn, a bit flustered.
“T-This is–”
“Jung Hoseok.” Hoseok outstretches his hand with a smile.
“Kim Haneul.” He states, shaking his hand with a similar smile. He gestures to you. “I’m her oldest.”
Hoseok nods understandably, “It’s nice to meet you, Hoseok.”
He grins and you’re a bit taken aback at Hanuel's gesture, naturally giving back the same courtesy that was given back to him.
He hasn’t changed one bit.
“Could we talk?” He mentions, gesturing between you. You nod immediately and Hoseok politely smiles, stepping towards the front to give you some privacy.
Haneul holds your hand as you slowly walk, guiding you onto the bench in the backyard. He waits as you sit down, taking a spot by you.
As glad as you are to see him, you’re curious.
“How are you here, Haneul?”
“I came by to visit.” He explains, “I managed to get a couple of days off.”
You nod, “Naree… she told me you were in an old age home.”
“I see….” You fall into silence and Haneul quietly watches you from the corner of his eyes.
“Was it your choice?”
“At first, it was.” You exhale, “But then Naree never came for me, and when she did, she wanted me to stay–” Your words grow smaller, “And now, I just can’t go back anymore….”
Haneul lifts his hand, placing it on top of your wrinkled one as you heave, eyes getting glossy.
“His name is Hoseok.” You sputter out, wanting to rid him of any worries, “We met at the care home and got closer. I feel better with him around, and he understands me, but I’m not trying to replace your father in the least–”
“Hey, hey.” He softly says, “Who said anything about replacing Dad?”
“Naree did… and I don’t blame her.”
Her words have you thinking twice, wondering if everything you were doing was just wrong.
Haneul frowns, “Mom, Naree’s husband isn’t dead.”
“Don’t say such things, Haneul.” You chide.
“Mom, listen to me.” He fully turns to you, taking your worn out hands in his stronger ones. “Dad’s gone, and you’re all by yourself now. You don’t owe anyone anything, especially not at this age.”
He knowingly grins, “What was the advice you had given to me before I left?”
The memory is still crystal clear to you. “That life was too short…and that you should be living your own, without fretting over the family.”
“And you told me this after Dad’s passing.” He persists, “Why can’t you give yourself the same consideration?”
You slowly nod, taking in his words. “You’re right…”
But then an amused chuckle leaves you and his eyes widen.
“You know, you sound so much like your father that it’s actually terrifying….”
He looks amused, “Well, he was one heck of a wise man.”
He laughs and so do you, feeling your chest grow a bit lighter.
Haneul exhales, something in his gaze abruptly changing.
“Mom, you’ve gotten older. The last time I saw you, you weren’t this weak.” He admits, “I just really want you to leave while you’re still able to.”
You look up at him, water welling up in your eyes. There’s an unsaid message sent between both of your eyes, one that you unfortunately understand very well.
This very well may be the last time you see him.
You advance forward, wrapping your shaking hands around his shoulders. He leans down, holding onto you in a loving embrace.
It makes you wonder where time went, where the boy that was running around the house with giggles and helping his dad with fixing the shed went, becoming a fully fledged adult who you could express your deepest concerns to, and lean on as you grew brittle.
***
Haneul walks you back to the front, exchanging a smile with Hoseok who had been patiently waiting for you. He reaches his arm out and you hold onto it.
Haneul enters the house again, insisting to bring the bags you had packed. You discuss with Hoseok about your plans moving forward, but the door comes bursting open.
Two young girls come forth, tears in their eyes.
“Grandma!”
Nayoung launches herself at you, embracing you immediately. Dambi is behind her, eyes flickering all over your form.
A small chuckle leaves you and Hoseok smiles at the interaction, watching at how you comfortingly rub their backs as they sob into your floral dress.
“U-Uncle Haneul says you’re leaving…” Dambi mumbles out.
A sigh slips out from you and Haneul emerges with remorse on his face, appearing like he attempted to keep it a secret but couldn’t to no avail.
“I am leaving.” You’re completely honest with them. “I know it’s hard, and I’ll miss the two of you greatly, but I….I need to go.”
Nayoung and Dambi look at you thoughtfully, nodding their heads, “And I won’t be alone either.”
You turn to Hoseok who smiles, causing both of the girls to be captivated with his appearance.
“Will you be looking after Grandma?” Nayoung wonders and he softly nods, a certain fondness in his eyes you haven’t seen before.
“I will be.” He says, “Someone has to remind her not to be so stubborn.”
You exasperatedly shake your head with a chuckle as Hoseok grins, but Nayoung moves closer to you, a dimpled smile on her lips.
“I’ll miss you, Grandma.” She whispers, hugging you. “Please be happy.”
You’re astonished at her words, wondering just how obvious you had been. You know the saying that children have a tendency to see everything and there’s something that shines in Nayoung’s eyes that makes you sniffle, hugging the girl tightly in your arms.
Hoseok helps you with your cane and you clutch onto him, afraid that a part of you will never want to leave if you didn’t. You watch as the two girls wave their hands at you, huge smiles on their lips. Haneul stands by the door, leaning against it with a grin.
You wave back at them, even noticing Naree by the window, sticking her eyes out despite her crossed arms. You want to chuckle, amused how obvious your daughter could be at times.
Taking one look back, you see all that you’ve built with Namjoon. Your house, your children, your grand-children, the years and years of your lifetime all showcased within your field of vision. You smile, wondering if the man was still alive, how he probably would have been standing alongside them, ushering you to be on your way already.
Turning around, Hoseok holds onto your bags, a smile on his lips.
You take his hand with your own.
The next couple of days are a bit of a blur for you. You find out Hoseok had booked a train for you into the nearby city, one that wasn’t luckily drawn out for too many hours. He calls a cab to pick you up and you’re soon in front of train tracks as he holds you, slowly helping you on.
You spend the rest of the duration looking out, watching at how buildings, greenery and the life you once knew whizzes by. It makes you wonder when the last time was when you’ve done something like this, recalling the last trip you ever took was with Namjoon and years before the two of you had started finding it difficult to do.
You arrive after a couple of hours, your joints aching a bit which prompts Hoseok to seat you down onto a bench, attempting to find a water bottle for you to drink. It amuses you a bit to see others glancing at you, seeing a much older couple traveling together rather than a youthful one. Instead of energy and fresh eyes, they see peacefulness and serene ones, and it all the more makes you want to smile once more, no longer feeling like you were being trapped or held back somewhere.
You arrive at a small residence that Hoseok took care of.
He turns to put the bags away and you clasp onto his wrist. “Hoseok.”
He glances at you and you sincerely look at him. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”He warmly smiles.
“What should we do now?” You ponder, “Everything I said was completely on a whim, but I still don’t know–”
“Hey.” He softly calls out, slipping next to you and placing a hand on your own. “Don’t stress too much about it. I’ve booked us this place here to stay for the week, and you can take your time before officially deciding where to go.”
You stare at him in surprise, feeling so grateful that he is here with you.
“Okay.” You quietly say and he gets up with a grin, moving to unpack a bag.
That night, you lay awake on a bed adjacent to Hoseok. He doesn’t sleep next to you, but still remains in the room, the sound of his soft breathing echoing off the walls.
Your mind is brimming with endless possibilities, and for the first time ever, you fall asleep with a smile on your lips.
You desire a home.
A home. A place of comfort – a place that welcomes you with open arms and loosens the tightness in your chest, a place that allows you to breathe easier and fills you with warmth, a place full of solace, one which soothes your aching heart.
It’s not much, a small house out by the fields and close to a meadow, far out from the city and next to an expansive lake. The wind ever so breezes over the numerous flowers collecting in the open fields and the sun is always shining over, reflecting over the pools of water. You have your occasional neighbors, mainly families that harbor residences nearby to spend their idle time. It’s always interesting when they run into you, assuming an entire family to be inside only to find an elderly lady smiling back at them.
It was something you didn’t get instantaneously, searching around for the exact spot you wanted. In a way, you still thank your late husband for always advising you to keep money on the side, indicating that you would need it one day for when he was gone and you would always chide him not to bring the bad thoughts into mention. It led you to a place you would have never in a million years thought you would have ended up at, and never with the amount of pure joy it’s brought.
You desire a home, and somehow, just somehow, you find one in Jung Hoseok.
He takes you everywhere you desire, whether it is walking down the borders of the lake, to watching the skyline of the far city. He’s always two steps ahead of you, picking up your cane when it stumbles and interlacing his hands with you, letting you lean your weight against him. He assists you with your gardening and sets up two rocking chairs outside of the cabin, sitting down for hours with you as you read.
He’ll joke that his legs are getting too shaky when he walks with you, or that the tremors in his hands are always at a constant beat. He’ll smile with fine lines marring his forehead and the creases of his eyes when you chide him, just as he insists that he has no reason for his constant remarks around you. He’ll look at you tenderly, watching as every word spills out of you, even after you recall an eternity of memories with someone else.
There comes a point where your small thank you’s disappear altogether, and you clasp onto his hand instead.
“It’s so beautiful.” You whisper, watching the rays of the sun descend, catching a warm hue of orange all over the meadow. It transcends over the horizon, illuminating the delicate lines on your face and specks of your irises.
Hoseok hums next to you on the bench, your arm around his. He watches as the sun slowly dips into the horizon, the orange submerging before a cool blue takes over.
“It is.” He murmurs, “Kinda makes you think how small you really are.”
You let out a soft laugh and he grins in your direction.
“You always have such a way with words.” You remarks.
“Well, I think it’s one of my best qualities.” He retorts, “Aside from knitting, of course.”
You shake your head as he chuckles. The sun completely disappears and he glances at you.
“Say, how about we head in and I brew us some hot tea?” He suggests, slipping his warm hands within your cold ones.
You stare at him for a second, expression impassible. Hoseok frowns, a deep crease forming between his brows.
“Y/N?” He ponders at your silence.
“I’m so lucky to have met you.”
Hoseok blinks, but the words tumble out much faster than you can stop.
“I was so, so alone, and absolutely terrified that the rest of my life would be like that.” Water surfaces in your eyes, “But then I met you and I never realized how much I missed this feeling of…being alive.”
A bright smile stretches on your cheeks, “I’m so happy, Hoseok.”
You don’t have a chance to swipe away your tears, his arms coming to encase around you in an instant. A gasp leaves you, but Hoseok tightens his hold and you lean against him, arms slipping around his back.
“Y-You don’t understand…” He whispers, voice cracking that makes you stiff with alarm. “You don’t understand how much I feel the same way.”
He separates from you, irises glossed over. It’s a look you’ve noticed before in his eyes, a look that speaks volumes compared to his usual warm and cheerful disposition, a look that even terrifies you to a certain extent, encased within anguish and longing.
You wonder if it’s the same look he had been seeing in you the first day he met you.
***
You’re seated on Hoseok’s bed, watching him filter through his cabinet.
You’ve been here a handful of times, mostly nights where you weren’t able to sleep and he sat by your side until you did. Or moments where you would ponder about him, coming by to say good morning or wondering if he had eaten already.
However, you’ve never been here in the wake of the night, watching him open up his belongings with an unwavering gaze in his orbs.
He halts after a couple of seconds, treading slowly towards you before planting himself beside you on the bed.
Sharply inhaling, he hands you the photograph in his hands.
A young woman immediately flashes before your eyes, a kind upturn to her eyes and a warm smile on her lips. She appears to be within her late twenties, curly locks falling to her shoulders and dressed in a bright orange dress.
Even through the lack of light, you don’t fail to miss the ring that sits on the third finger of her left hand.
“Jung Euna.” Hoseok somberly confirms, “My deceased wife.”
Your eyes widen instantly.
Aside from the first time you were alerted of her presence, Hoseok has never spoken about her. You had never questioned him either, knowing better than anybody else the sheer grief that came with losing your sprouse.
And in a way, a part of you always knew, being painfully aware of it since the moment you’ve met the man.
His warm smile has always seemed to carry the weight of the world.
“She was really pretty.” You add with a smile, peering up to see tenderness in Hoseok’s expression.
“She was.” He hums, “I had actually liked her since high school, but I was always too nervous around her to confess my feelings.”
You nod, and he continues. “But then one day, I was working at a department store and she walked in. Recognized me within seconds.”
“–I knew I couldn’t let the chance slip away from me again, so I asked her out. To my surprise, she agreed right away, as if she had been waiting for me to ask.”
He beams, “She was stubborn, but very loving. Not a day goes by without me thinking about her.”
Your brows lift, wondering if this is how you sounded when you talked about Namjoon. If you held so much love in your eyes, so much nostalgia in every word you spoke, so much sparks of joy in your expression.
“We…we never had kids.” He brings up, as if he knew what you were wondering. “Rather…we couldn’t have kids.”
Shock crosses your features and Hoseok grimly smiles, “Euna…she had a miscarriage. And then we found out she couldn’t have kids anymore, and it was devastating.” He sighs, recalling the memory like it was yesterday, “We fought, a lot. She kept telling me to divorce her, or to find someone else, because she knew how much I wanted to be a dad and have kids of my own.”
“But you see, I’m just as stubborn as my wife. I told her I wasn’t going anywhere and that it didn’t matter at the end of the day. That I didn’t vow to be with her in sickness and health at the altar for no reason, and that my desire to be with her was stronger than she thought.”
“Euna cried a lot. She would always cry in moments like this, not realizing how clear it was that she was suffering. So, I stayed with her and we were together for years, until her death.”
You let out the breath you hadn’t known you had been holding, “C-Can I ask….”
A small smile curls on his lips. “Of course you can.”
You dart your gaze at the photo, knowing this isn’t easy to talk about. “Euna…how did she…?”
Hoseok harshly swallows, all his wounds reopening before him. “She got diagnosed with stomach cancer. We luckily caught it right away, but Euna…she got sick, very quickly. It soon turned into going back and forth into the hospital, getting treatments and scheduling surgeries, and she got better. She looked so healthy, even started smiling again and–”
Hoseok shudders, raising a hand against his eyes. You shift closer, wrapping an arm around him as his body trembles, sobs escaping him.
“Hoseok…” You whisper and he glances up, agony pouring out from him.
“S-She was better, Y/N.” He chokes out. “I thought it was all real. I thought I could take her out of there, bring her back home and everything would snap back into place again, but then it s-spread…”
You hug him tighter, squeezing your eyes shut.
“She was gone...” You complete, “…in the blink of an eye, like she never existed to begin with.”
Hoseok doesn’t respond, still within your arms and he knows he doesn’t need to. Not when you understand his pain so well, not when his feelings mimic yours, not when the gap in his heart that his wife left is so similar to your own, feelings of loneliness dispersing everywhere.
That night, you lie down next to Hoseok.
Your head rests against his chest as his breaths even out, his hand clasped onto yours. The tears have long dried but the anguish is still there, a deep furrow to his brows as he sleeps.
Peering upward, a soft smile lingers on your lips at the photograph he holds close to his heart.
You lean down, handing Hoseok a warm cup of tea.
His hands reach out in an instant, a kind smile on his features.
“Thank you.” You return it, before sitting yourself down on a chair opposite to him with your own cup.
It had been roughly a week since that night, and Hoseok looks brighter, almost more optimistic, if it were even possible. You weren’t sure after the second night passed, his eyes remaining swollen and a somber aura surrounding the man. You hadn’t left him alone for a split second, even as he continuously insisted he was alright, accompanying him on morning walks and holding onto his cold hand.
Hoseok had chuckled when you pushed him over, sliding into the opposite end of the bed and draping an arm around him. He smiles gently when you rest your head against his chest, listening to his slow heartbeat. His eyes turn tender when you dreamingly question about Euna, curious about her likes and dislikes, the way she spoke or the way she laughed, using him as your source to an individual you’ve never met, but feel like you know everything about.
And he does the same for you, asking for you to show him a picture of Namjoon one day. You pluck onto an album you had kept safely stored away, one Hoseok already knew was yours from how tidy it was kept and it was always situated next to your books, the very ones Namjoon would read.
Hoseok sees everything. Pictures of you and Namjoon smiling, much younger and with so much excitement dwelling in your eyes. Photographs of a new ring settled on your finger, bursting with so much happiness. Photographs of you crying, holding your nearly born son in your arms.
Hoseok sees your entire lifetime before his eyes, peeking at a question that has your eyes sparkling.
“Do you think we could have met?” He glances at the photograph of you in dark robes, a wide grin on your lips as you hold your college degree. “Like bumped shoulders at one point?”
“I don’t know.” You truthfully confess. You had lived such different lives, never once bumping into the man. It makes you wonder if you would have ever met him, having not gone to the old age home.
“We’re what? Five years apart?” He marvels, deep in thought, “What if you were revisiting college? And you just happened to stumble into me, freshly into college?”
You fondly smile at the sentiment. You can imagine it so clearly – a younger Hoseok, appearing curious with his surroundings as he glanced around, attempting to locate his classes. You, a couple years older, coming back to meet with one of your professors.
“You would be lost.” You state, playing into his fantasy. “I bet you would try to ask everyone around you for directions…”
“–until I encountered you, your confidence taking me away.”
You laugh, smile stretching. “I would wonder why you would be asking someone like me–”
“Someone who would be too stubborn to say no.” He grins and the image flashes before you can help it.
“E-Excuse me?” The man mumbles, appearing to be in his early twenties. “I’m supposed to go to the Art building, but I’m not sure which way that is.”
You turn in surprise, not having expected to be approached. In fact, your gaze was concentrated forward, attached to the office before you.
“O-Oh.” You’re caught off guard. His eyes are flickering everywhere and you muse he could really use the help. “Of course, it’s the black building just down on the right.”
“Thanks.” He kindly smiles, and turns in the direction of your instructions.
You widely grin, “It wouldn’t have been anything big. Just a couple of words exchanged.”
Hoseok halts, swiveling with wide eyes.
“Sorry, did you say something?” He ponders, and you softly shake your head.
“Don’t worry about it.” You mutter, “I do hope you find your class, Hoseok.”
He nods, peering at you in confusion. You watch as he departs, whispering underneath your breath.
“See you in a couple of years.”
Hoseok is leaning back in his chair, a soft smile on his lips.
“A tad unrealistic?” You were amused that he let you stray so far off, not halting the train of thoughts coming to you.
“A bit,” He chuckles, “but I didn’t want you to stop.”
You share a knowing look, holding onto your tea cups.
A soft knock resonates against the door.
Hoseok gets up first, gesturing for you to continue drinking your tea. You watch as he slowly pads over to the door, revealing a woman standing with a young girl before your eyes.
You recognize them immediately as a family that lived nearby, noticing them frequenting one of the homes during the summer.
The young girl looks to be roughly seven to eight years old, eyes flickering around and hands fidgeting. At the sight of her mother eyeing her, she speaks up.
“Um…m-my ball. It went into your garden.”
Hoseok softly smiles, leaning down to gently pat her head.
“Let’s go retrieve it, shall we?” He implores, and the little girl follows behind, slowing her pace to keep up with his steps.
You walk outside to the garden, standing next to her mother. Fondness spreads through you as Hoseok looks around with the girl, a tenderness to his eyes that has you smiling as he gives the ball back to you.
Her mother draws your attention. “I’m so sorry about this, I didn’t think it would end up here.”
“It’s quite alright.” You reassure, “Hoseok doesn’t mind either.”
“I’ve seen you around a couple of times.” She inquires, “Did you come here recently?”
You nod, “I wanted to move away from the city.”
She hums understandably, “That’s nice. Both you and your husband seem very loving.”
Your eyes flicker. It had been so long since you had heard such a statement, long having buried it with Namjoon when he passed.
“He’s not my husband…” You correct, and the woman’s eyes widen, like she hasn’t been expecting that response from you.
You pursue your lips. You truthfully, never had an answer. Not when Naree had accused you of replacing Namjoon, not when you would encounter the other neighbors and they would inquire about you, not when there was no envy on either one of your parts when Namjoon or Euna were mentioned, just understanding of the deep love you both still hold onto to.
Namjoon is your husband. He will always be, keeping a special place in your heart that no one else can ever fully take or replace.
Hoseok is your radiant sun.
His smile is comforting. His arms are warm. His presence feels so reassuring and makes you feel less lonely in this world that only has you left behind.
He's your solace – the embodiment of your pain and understanding at the same time.
“Hoseok…” You whisper, “He’s…he’s my partner.”
Through the thick and thin, through the laughs and the tears, through the comforting embraces and the anguished recollections. You are glad to have met him, to have experienced these new memories with him, and to have created a new path, one in which you will spend the rest of your life in together.
Hoseok glances up with a grin, the little girl holding her ball and giggling at something he said. His eyes lock on yours and it’s almost like he knows, he knows what is dwelling inside them.
He’ll always be your partner for eternity.
Time is the most valuable thing to exist in the world.
It can be a matter of a mere seconds, spinning away like loose strands without any control. It could be a matter of a few years, spanning across months at a subdued pace.
Time is so very valuable, and you’re grateful to have spent it with Jung Hoseok.
“Hoseok….”
It’s your voice, weakly calling out to him. He’s by your side within a matter of seconds.
“Y/N.” He whispers, a smile spanning on his lips with many lines creasing.
He’s gotten much older, the dark strands of hair turning completely gray, a deep hunch caving in his back more. He wears hearing aids on both ears, enough to still hear your low murmurs from your bed. His eyes have gotten weaker, a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his long nose.
He still looks like the man you’ve spent so many years with.
And what years they were. You had basked in each other’s presence, being so utterly peaceful with him staying by your side. You weren’t lonely, you weren’t numb, you weren’t terrified anymore, you were simply content.
Even when your legs had started losing their ability. Even when your memory began to fade, panic settling in on not being able to recall anymore. Even when your skin paled with time and you had become bed ridden.
Hoseok held onto you. Hoseok reminded you, pulling out albums for you to see. Hoseok lied down with you, letting you rest your head against his chest. He coaxes and consoles you, keeping you in one piece even though the years were threatening to crumble you.
Even as he watches your chest slowly heave, voice growing weaker by the minute.
“Hoseok…” You croak. He’s leaning in right away, despite having machinery that allows him to hear. “T-Thank you…Hoseok….”
He chuckles, eyes glossed over. So many years had passed and you still had the need to express your gratitude
“I should be thanking you.” He brings up, “Thank you, Kim Y/N. For all these beautiful years.” He whispers, as if singing you a comforting lullaby “For letting me into your life and staying by your side.”
His voice cracks, but he still smiles.
“F-For letting this old man be your partner, for the rest of the time you had left.”
You slowly smile, and he squeezes your hand, like he knows you feel the same way.
“Hoseok….” You heave out, “I-I’m…I’m a little scared…”
“I’m here, Y/N. I’m here.” He whispers, leaning his forehead against yours and shaking in your grasp.
“I-I wanted to go….” You croak, “For so long….I-I wanted to see him….”
A low chuckle escapes you, “But not anymore.... strange, isn’t it….?”
Hoseok is sobbing, shudders escaping through his body. His hand is clasped around yours, eyes filled with water
But he keeps them open, wanting to encapsulate your last image into them.
“You’ll be okay.” He chokes out.
A warm smile graces your lips. It’s the most content he’s ever seen you, and it makes the center of his chest ache infinitely.
A moment of silence passes as Hoseok recollects himself, leaning back to gaze at you.
He calls out for you.
“Y/N?”
Your lips barely move, the shallow breaths leaving you all too soon. But you keep your gaze concentrated on him, letting him know you are still listening.
A tear manages to slip from Hoseok’s eyes, but he still smiles, like he always does.
“Say hi to your husband for me.” He whispers.
It’s the last thing you hear before a brightness filling your eyes, his hold on you being the strongest it’s ever been. It rushes in, pulling you away like a tide.
Your hand slips through his hold, and your eyes shut forever.
#hoseok fanfic#hoseok angst#bts hoseok fanfic#jhope fanfic#bts jhope fanfic#bts jhope angst#jhope angst#hoseok older couple au#bts elderly au#hoseok elderly au#bts older couple au#bts jung hoseok#jung hoseok#bts fanfic#bts angst#bts imagines#bts scenarios#hoseok x reader
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Name: Hyung, Sleep with Me
Ship: Hopekook (Hoseok/Jungkook) - BTS
Rating: Explicit
Category: M/M
Wordcount: 3,487k
Type: One Shot
Tags: smut, fluff, sexual tension, scents & smells, handjobs, nipple play, spooning, intercrural sex, soft, dirty talk, cute, canon-compliant
Summary:
Hoseok and Jungkook sleep in the same bed a lot but Jungkook has been wanting more (and so has Hobi).
#ao3 tags#ao3fic#ao3 fanfic#ao3#bts ao3#hopekook#hopekook fanfic#hopekook fic#bts hobi fanfic#bts#bts fanfic#bts fic#bts hobi#bts hoseok#bts hoseok fanfic#bts j hope#bts jeongguk#bts jhope#bts jhope fanfic#bts jungkook#bts jungkook fanfic#bangtan#jungkook#jhope#j hope#hobi#hoseok#hoseok fanfic#jung hoseok#jhope fic
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Dancing in the Rain [Pt. 3]
Summary: Namjoon lived in a small town. He loved it. It had just enough going on to give him fun when needed and not enough going on that he felt overwhelmed. On top of that, it was only a three hour train ride to Seoul where he met with his publisher and many of his friends lived. It was the best of both worlds. His life gets a bit more interesting when a mysterious bleach blonde with a heart shaped smile enters his life.
genre: Slice of Life, Strangers to Lovers, Fluff
members: Namjoon (BTS) x Hoseok (BTS)
wc: 4.4k
warnings: lying about one’s name
Previous Chapter < > Masterlist
A/N: Thank you to the fabulous @chimknj for betaing this fic for me! Her help was so wonderful in making me feel confident in the consistency of the final chapter so long after my first two parts. Please go check out her works, she’s truly such a talented author!
Sweat dripped down Namjoon’s back, the sun bearing down on Hoseok and him as they hiked higher and higher. Namjoon hadn’t realized that there were many hiking opportunities nearby until Hoseok mentioned it. Since Hoseok had Namjoon wrapped around his finger, he agreed immediately to the hiking invite (despite his more sedentary lifestyle.
It was a beautiful early fall hike. The leaves were starting to lose their green pigment and turn vibrant oranges, reds, and yellows. If Namjoon had the energy, he’d be playing around with descriptions as they walked.
But Namjoon had no energy to think past putting one foot in front of the other.
The trail was rough and despite it being early in the day, the sun was already an unrelenting beast. Namjoon’s shirt was soaked all the way through and his pants were joining, both bunching and riding up uncomfortably.
Despite the physical exercise and angry sun, Hoseok seemed to be floating up the trail ahead of Namjoon. Small beads of sweat were growing on his neck and darkening the collar of his t-shirt, but compared to Namjoon, Hoseok seemed to be as dry as a desert. Not even the spots under Hoseok’s backpack that occasionally were revealed as he swung his shoulders with each step forwards seemed sweaty. Namjoon didn’t complain though. Hoseok made up for all the physical discomfort Namjoon felt (and not just because Namjoon had a painfully large crush on the man).
Hoseok finished up his first tour since the two became friends. There had been some song releases and promotional stuff that he’d done before but this was the first time their friendship was tested by distance for months on end. The two called often (Namjoon’s irregular sleep schedule coming in handy for once) and tried to make it work but it was hard. Namjoon knew it’d be hard.
They had managed it though.
In some ways, it was easier than Namjoon expected. Despite the great distance, there were times where it felt like their schedules weren’t meeting up (like the occasional times where Hoseok would return to town after being gone for a month right when Namjoon had to go on a book signing tour) and technology helped so much to sooth Namjoon’s yearning. Sure they couldn’t snuggle while watching a movie but they could find a show with short episodes and watch that together occasionally. There were things they could still do together.
In other ways, it was harder. Namjoon found himself replaying all their interactions together, trying to figure out if certain actions meant something in the times they’d most often met up (like the many times that Hoseok would hold his hand and gaze softly into his eyes). The further into Hoseok’s tour, the more Namjoon found himself spiraling. He was romanticizing each action with every replay. The memories likely got warped and distorted by Namjoon’s crush more and more each time.
It had to be that. Their hugs and laughs and soft touches and sweet words were playful friend things. Namjoon needed to get over this crush of his.
“Whaaaaa!! Namjoon-ah! Look at the view!” Hoseok shouted, pulling Namjoon from his thoughts.
He was 4 yards ahead and must have gotten to the first viewpoint on the trail (and the only one they’ll get to today). The view was supposed to be breathtaking but 3 yards away from the view (and still climbing uphill) Namjoon was struck by another view.
Hoseok.
The sun surrounded him in a halo and yet his bright and excited heart shaped smile shone brighter than it. How dare a man look so good. He even was rocking his latest hair style (a soft looking caramel brown hair cut with gentle waves in it). The man would look stunning bald. It was unfair.
It was a struggle to look away from Hoseok when Namjoon was able to look at the view but he did it nonetheless. The town was on the outskirts of a larger city with enough stuff nearby to live a calm life. Most of the farms were stuff Namjoon had only seen through trains and buses. He’d started seeing more on his new bike but the view of the fields from a bike was so different from the view from this viewpoint.
Rice fields seemed to stretch out forever. A lawn of green. Occasionally there’d be a flash of sunlight reflected in the water from the fields.
It was almost as breathtaking as Hoseok.
When Namjoon turned away from the view, he was met with Hoseok crouching down and spreading out a gingham red blanket from his large backpack. It was a classic picnic blanket that Namjoon had seen in many old timey American movies before.
So that is why Hoseok told Namjoon to bring some sweets for them to nibble on.
He was planning a picnic.
Did that mean that Hoseok had most of the main dishes in his backpack?
That would explain the size of it.
Namjoon must have been staring at Hoseok awkwardly because he laughed and pated the blanket, “Come sit down, Joon-ah!”
As gingerly as possible, Namjoon did. Hoseok seemed to look at Namjoon fondly all the while, his eyes soft and a small smile on his face. His look made Namjoon’s stomach feel like tons of tiny caterpillars were hatching, squirming around uncomfortably. He shouldn’t be crushing on his friend.
Averting his eyes, Namjoon took his time pulling out the sweets he got. In comparison to the stuff Hoseok was taking out of his backpack, Namjoon’s sweets felt minimal. How could twizzlers and partially melted cookies compare to the three course meal Hoseok was unpacking?
“I missed you a lot, Joon-ah,” Hoseok started, carefully laying out the spread, his own eyes downcast, “I am glad we got to meet back up so soon after I returned.”
“Me too, Hoseok-ah. Being in person is much nicer than calls and facetime. Although at least on calls, I didn’t have to go on long hikes.”
“I hope that despite its length, you still are enjoying it.” Hoseok said with a soft laugh and Namjoon got a sense that he was asking for some sort of validation with that comment.
Why?
He didn’t know.
But Hoseok deserved all the validation in the world.
“I did. You make everything fun.”
Hoseok smiled softly and nodded at Namjoon’s comment. Suddenly a voice in his mind was yelling at him to confess. This was a great place to do it.
But Hoseok didn’t like Namjoon. Why would he?
Namjoon was just Namjoon… Hoseok was so amazing and caring and hard working.
A gentle silence blanketed them as Hoseok finished laying out the food.
“I really missed this place,” Hoseok started after taking a few bites of food.
Namjoon looked up and nodded, his cheeks full.
“Performing is amazing. I love it-- Crave it. I am so glad that I got to go on tour again, but it’s so nice to just breathe. Being here, I am able to take stuff slow in ways that I don’t think I have in so long. I've not had this slow pace since I entered the school system. I started as a trainee in high school but before then I was dancing and rarely gave myself breaks.”
“I’m glad you got a place here then.”
“Me too. I almost didn’t. My manager was the one who was pushing me to take on a slower schedule and spend time outside of Seoul between promotions. I’m glad I did. The breaks are nice. Being with you is nice too.”
Namjoon looked down at his plate, his cheeks burning, “I enjoy being with you too.”
“You’re so cute, Namjoon-ah.”
His head shot up, eyes wide as he looked at Hoseok.
“Thank you.”
Hoseok nibbled his lower lip, a thoughtful expression on his face.
“Would you… uh… would you want to go on a date with me?”
Namjoon inhaled at that, food getting lodged in his windpipe. He started coughing violently, face bright red. Leaning over, Hoseok started rubbing his back, apologizing profusely. Once Namjoon calmed down, Hoseok handed him some water.
“I am sorry for asking… we can let it go… I-”
“I would love to.”
Namjoon’s voice was weak and raspy from coughing but it shut Hoseok up nonetheless. A soft smile grew on his face as he nodded.
Namjoon was rushing around his backyard, making small adjustments to make sure everything looked good for their first date. He readjusted his plants to make sure their best sides were being shown and fiddled with the layout of cut veggies he grabbed.
He hadn’t done this before and it was stressful. What was one supposed to do to prepare for a small in house date? Did he need to prepare a gift? Would the food he got be enough? Would Hoseok enjoy it?
It didn’t help that Namjoon’s experience with dates was next to null. He also hadn’t had a date like this before.
Hoseok had to go back to Seoul unexpectedly after their hike so Namjoon was organizing the first date. Namjoon wanted to… but fuck it was hard. The time crunch had thrown him for a loop. He wanted to push the date back by a day or so to give him more time to prepare. Plus they didn't know when Hoseok would be done with work today. Hoseok was insistent on coming as soon as he could leave from work and neither of them knew when their next opportunity would be. It was why Namjoon was rushing.
Totally not him procrastinating on setting up.
Or stressing over something he’s never done before.
The ring of his doorbell drew him from his thoughts.
He rushed to the door, opening it to see a tired looking Hoseok. He still had his bags in his hands (which were set down as soon as he came inside).
“I am so sorry for you needing to plan this,” Hoseok said as they started moving to the back yard, “I had a big thing planned but…”
He sighed.
Namjoon nodded.
“I don’t mind Hoseok-ah. We can do your thing for our second date.”
Hoseok laughed and nodded.
“I guess. Wahhhh! Namjoon-ah! Your backyard always amazes me! It is so beautiful.”
Namjoon blushed and scratched the back of his neck, making his way to the variety of drinks he’d grabbed and prepared for the date. Despite knowing Hoseok for a while now, in his nerves for the date, he forgot all the things that Hoseok liked.
“I uh… I got us some soju. Do you want some now? Or do you want something else to drink? I have water, iced tea… sprite, I could make some--”
“I’ll have water.”
Hoseok laughed, a soft look making its way on his face as he watched Namjoon pour some water. Namjoon was futzing around even after he gave Hoseok some water.
“Sit down with me, Namjoon-ah.”
Namjoon coughed and did that, looking around anxiously as he did so.
“Is this your first date?”
“W-W-wha-No? I… I’ve been on dates before! Many!”
Namjoon was a beetroot with how red he was, squaring his shoulders and taking a large sip of his own drink.
Hoseok laughed and nodded, “Ok. Well, this is the first date I’ve been on in, like, 5 years.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh,” Hoseok laughed, “I missed you.”
“Oh. I missed you too. What was the emergency at work?”
“They had a system outage. Lost some recordings I had made so they needed me to come in and record some more stuff. I don’t know why they didn’t have it backed up better… but everything was lost.”
“Awwe. Was there much to rerecord?”
“Sadly. I am not promoting any music for a while but they had some video challenges prerecorded. We also lost a lot of vlog footage from dancing and stuff, but I managed to convince them to let me film it here.”
A comfortable flow of conversation settled over them as the night continued. Namjoon still had his nervous moments (and also almost set the grill on fire) but generally, the date was a comfortable and fun time. It was super fun, actually. Namjoon’s worries and stress quelled, he found himself melting into the flow of the night, a comfortable giddiness growing. Like fermenting wine, the night developed a sweet atmosphere and grew richer and richer with each minute. Hoseok was all giggles and sunshine every time their hands brushed and despite the night ending without even a peck on the lips, Namjoon found himself struggling to fall asleep that night as the date replayed on repeat.
He felt tipsy on the events of the night, floating in a soft fuzzy buzz that relaxed him to no end.
Was it possible for Namjoon to fall hard for someone after the first date?
Namjoon looked out the train window, the town growing smaller as it chugged along. It was a fall crisp morning and the world around the train was slowly turning various shades of yellow. He had an impromptu meeting with his publisher but unlike a few years ago (before he started dating Hoseok), he felt excited.
Hoseok’s manager was helping Namjoon surprise his boyfriend.
He gets to see Jin hyung again.
When his stop came, Namjoon giddily got up, fumbling to grab his bag and rushing to check into his hotel.
Hoseok was going to be on break in an hour.
His manager was going to pick Namjoon up in thirty minutes.
By the time the manager, Seojun, came by, Namjoon had worked up a sweat from rushing to and from a nearby grocery store. The car was sleek and fancy.
Namjoon stood frozen in front of the car in shock.
Sure, he knew Hoseok and his company had money, but he hadn’t expected this much. The window rolled down.
"You coming?"
Namjoon jumped, rushing into the car and mumbling a small apology. He'd met Seojun a few times but that didn't stop the awkward air that settled over them. Throughout the ride, they made light conversation, long stretches of silence rested in the gaps. During those breaks, Namjoon’s nerves skyrocketed.
Seojun cleared his throat near the end of the ride, “Now, Namjoon-ssi, I suspect Hoseok won’t actually be resting when you visit… which is why I am so appreciative of you coming. Hoseok works so hard but forgets to take breaks sometimes.”
Namjoon nodded, not quite knowing what to say in response.
“I am glad you brought food as well. It’ll be good for him. I am sorry that I can’t get you both more time together though. The schedule can be somewhat flexible but sadly we do have an important session after this break so I can’t give you all too much time. I am hopeful that this will be a good break for Hoseok.”
“I am glad I can help.” Namjoon said, trying to hide his growing nerves.
This was a surprise visit and Hoseok loved Namjoon… but what if he didn’t want to see Namjoon today?
What if Hoseok made plans that his manager didn’t know about?
What if Hoseok didn’t want to take a break?
Sure Hoseok was preparing for a comeback next week and Namjoon would only likely get to actually interact with Hoseok for thirty or so minutes but… what if?
There wasn’t much time to dwell though as soon they arrived at Hybe’s building. It stood tall and cold in front of Namjoon. Every time he’s seen the building, it stole his breath. Unlike previous times when Namjoon had space to stand in front of the building and absorb the feelings, Seojun ushered him along.
All Namjoon could do as they made their way deeper into the building was focus on Seojun. He knew the area well and was weaving through the building expertly. Before long, they stood in front of a studio door.
Namjoon was familiar with it. In the few times he’s visited and the many video calls he’s had with Hoseok, his studio was the main place they happened.
Seojun knocked on the door softly.
“Is it important? I am refining a song.”
Hoseok’s voice sounded rough from the constant use and Namjoon could hear the exhaustion that was dripping from it.
“I thought I told you to take a break, Hoseok-ssi?”
“I’ll rest later.”
“You won’t have time to rest later.”
Seojun looked over at Namjoon as if saying “I told you he’d be like this”.
Namjoon opened the door, “Hobi, get off your computer. It’s time to rest.”
At neck breaking speed, Hoseok turned around, his eyes wide and mouth hanging open in surprise. He sat still, watching closely as Namjoon closed the studio door and set the food down.
“I hope you don’t mind the food I got. I arrived like an hour ago… didn’t have much time to get good quality food.”
As soon as the food was set down, Hoseok jumped up, engulfing Namjoon in a tight hug.
“I missed you, Joonie-ah.”
“I missed you too.”
They stood there in silence, tightly hugging each other. The studio was so quiet that the soft humming of Hoseok’s lamp could be heard. It was the tune to their hug. A constant soft hum.
“Oh shit. I need to save my project.”
Namjoon laughed and watched as Hoseok quickly typed away on his computer.
“You’re taking a break, Mister. As soon as you're done saving, let's sit on the couch and eat. I don’t know about you, but I am hungry.”
After five minutes of Hoseok tapping away, Namjoon walked up to him, “Yeah! Save your work and come over.”
With a deep sigh, Hoseok stepped away.
“I hate you, Namjoon-ah.”
Namjoon snorted.
“I love you too. You need a break.”
Hoseok shook his head, a small smile on his face. The two of them settled on the couch, Hoseok curling up on Namjoon’s lap. They sat in silence, slowly munching on the food Namjoon got and relaxing.
Both of them knew that there wasn’t tons of time to relax together, Hoseok’s schedule was packed full, but neither of them brought it up.
Less than two hours later, there was a soft knocking at the door.
It was Seojun.
“Come in.”
Namjoon spoke quietly, looking down at Hoseok napping peacefully and gently shaking the man.
As Seojun entered, Hoseok started to wake, blinking sleep away.
“It’s time for your vocal coach session.”
Hoseok hummed, smacking his lips and hugging Namjoon tighter. Namjoon gently kissed his head.
“I’m meeting my hyung nearby so I won’t need a ride.”
Seojun nodded.
Hoseok whined as Namjoon started to wiggle around. Leaving was the last thing he wanted to do but Hoseok had responsibilities that couldn’t be missed… and Namjoon was meeting Seokjin soon but that was something that he would cancel in a heartbeat if it meant more time with Hoseok. At that thought, Namjoon heard an imaginary Seokjin yelling and whining. As he got up with the speed of a sloth, it felt like part of his heart was staying behind with Hoseok, cheering him on and wrapping him in an eternal hug.
If only Namjoon could do that.
With a chaste goodbye kiss and a long hug, Namjoon finally left Hoseok to continue with his schedule.
Leaving Hoseok’s company felt like a long trudge, an internal fight to turn around and stay with Hoseok raging as he walked. With the help of some people in the company, Namjoon somehow managed to make it out of the company and into the busy streets of Seoul to find Seokjin.
When Namjoon finally made it to Seokjin, waving at the man tiredly, he laughed and said, “You look like someone stole your popsicle. Why do you look so sad, Namjoon-ah?”
“Nothing. I just… I wish I had more time with my boyfriend.” Namjoon said, guiding Seokjin into the small restaurant.
The conversation seemed to die down as the two got seated and placed their order. A comfortable silence wraped around them like a blanket as they rested. Seokjin took a while to figure out what he wanted and as he did, Namjoon looked around, observing the three other customers that were here. They were all at another table across the room, chatting quietly as they ate their many dishes.
Despite their quiet voices, Namjoon could almost make out what they were talking about with how small the restaurant was. In fact, if Seokjin and him held hands and stretched, they could touch both sides of the restaurant. Although they might need to move a table or two to do so. It was a cozy place that seemed to be steeped in a warm hue from the lights and candles scattered about.
Since Namjoon and Hoseok started dating, Namjoon found himself pushing less and less for useless meetings to be zoom meetings or emails. The small meetings were an excuse to travel to Seoul when Hoseok was here. Hoseok and Seokjin combined convinces Namjoon that a few boring meetings that he could zone out during was worth the trip. He hadn’t regretted it.
Especially since Seokjin and him had found such a good restaurant. Not only was it a small family owned place, but not a lot of people knew about it and their food was amazing. For cheap, they could get tons of good side dishes and some amazing homemade ramen. Plus, it was close enough to Hoseok’s company that Namjoon could pop in sometimes or deliver some food.
“Can you stop thinking about your boyfriend for a second and fill me in on your life?” Seokjin said with a laugh, interrupting Namjoon’s thoughts.
Namjoon laughed and shook his head, “I am sorry, hyung. It seems he’s always on my mind these days.”
“If that’s the case, why don’t you propose?” He asked, playing with the empty soju glass on their table as he watched the waiter walk around the store.
Namjoon nodded, the thought making him anxious and excited, his thoughts rushing off like runoff into a gutter as Seokjin started talking about some other topic. Namjoon’s mind flited in and out of their conversation that night, thoughts of proposing to his boyfriend of three years sticking to him like glue.
It wouldn’t be something that’d happen soon since Hoseok will be having a world tour after his music release… and maybe Hoseok’s company has an engagement ban despite them being somewhat open to Hoseok dating… Would Namjoon still be a private part of Hoseok’s life if they got engaged or would he become publicly linked to Hoseok…
“Yeah! Namjoon-ah! Are you listening to me?” Seokjin asked, setting his soju glass down loudly as he waved in front of Namjoon’s face.
“Oh? Sorry, hyung. I got distracted. What were you talking about?”
Seokjin laughed and shook his head before launching into a conversation about his latest pokemon adventures. Namjoon tried to pay attention, his mind struggling more and more as the night progressed. There was a tangled web of thoughts in his head and it seemed to be growing more and more.
Somehow, Namjoon did manage to stay somewhat engaged and had a decent time with his hyung. They ended their night walking the streets and watching buskers, the two tipsily dancing along to the music. The night seemed to end with a pastel pink heu as Namjoon left Seokjin laughing excitedly and found himself falling asleep as soon as he made it home.
Even though Namjoon was here for three more days, the time flew by quickly. He spent it writing in cafes, hanging with Seokjin again, and video calling Hoseok every night. Ideally, Namjoon would’ve been staying with Hoseok but with his comeback so close, Hoseok had reporters and fans practically living outside his apartment. It wouldn't been too risky. This way, Namjoon was also able to walk around a lot. Something he wouldn't have been able to do if he stayed with Hoseok.
Namjoon did get a laugh out of an article that showed off Hoseok’s and his “close friendship”. It had been released after they took a walk during one of Hoseok’s miniscule breaks. It really was just to the closest cafe to get coffee and back but the time with Hoseok was wonderful.
*Their friendship would be talked about as even closer if Namjoon proposed to Hoseok.*
Namjoon chuckled at that thought and shook his head at the thought, trying to focus on the beautiful view he could see from the train. The thought of proposing hadn’t quite left his head ever and somehow it stuck with him as Hoseok had his comeback and left for tour.
Their distance was almost more painful as the thoughts of a proposal grew in Namjoon’s head but they managed. Their old reliable video calling at odd hours and slow texting made do.
It also gave Namjoon even time to indulge in his thoughts of proposal as he went out and bought a small ring for Hoseok without worry of sneaking around. Given with Hoseok and his schedules Namjoon wouldn't have had to sneak around anyways. With the ring tucked away safely in his apartment, Namjoon’s excitement festered and grew all throughout Hoseok’s tour.
This was real.
He wanted to spend the rest of his life with Hoseok.
Hoseok didn’t return home right after his tour, having to go to a few meetings first and Namjoon waited for Hoseok. His writing distracted him from the excitement of seeing Hoseok again. When Hoseok came, the two spent every possible second together. The ring sat patiently in one of Namjoon’s drawers.
They had a month together before Hoseok was whisked away again by his job. The ring sat patiently as Namjoon cheered Hoseok on and occasionally visited.
Two years passed and Hoseok had moved in with Namjoon. The ring sat quietly tucked away from Hoseok.
One fateful rainy summer day, Hoseok and Namjoon walked out to dance around in their quiet haven. The ring sat patiently in Namjoon’s pants pocket, soon to be sitting happily on Hoseok’s ring finger.
⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆
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(As of Yet) Untitled BTS Fanfic
Chapter 1
Reader's POV
I have a vivid imagination. I’ve dreamed up some pretty crazy scenarios in my mind. What I never dreamed though, was that I would actually get a chance to deliver my love letter. Well, I thought of it as a love letter anyway. And I never honestly believed it would ever leave my possession. In fact, I was still not sure if I even wanted to deliver it.
To be honest, it was slightly embarrassing. Embarrassing that a grown woman was writing a love letter to begin with. Embarrassing that I had been so candid and honest. Embarrassing that I had spent so much time on it. Embarrassing how I felt about these men I had never met.
I had spent the last year of my life constantly scribbling in that little green notebook. I had written and rewritten passages. Ripped out pages. Added artwork. Inserted quotes. I had spent hours finding the right way to express the feelings I thought I would never get to share with the ones who had turned my life around. It had been cathartic to let my feelings out, imagining that someone was listening, and someone cared.
And now, by some amazingly, unbelievable stroke of luck, I found myself face to face with the seven men to whom I had written. I had put so much of myself into that green notebook. Now that I was this close, I had to find some way to deliver my letter.
I got my chance when someone ahead of me in line tripped, causing chaos to ensue. No one seemed to be seriously hurt, but the regular routine was severely disrupted. My mind quickly sized up the situation and I eased a few inches forward taking my place in front of one of the men I had dreamed of meeting.
“Excuse me, sir,” I said. My voice came out softer than I had intended. He turned from the commotion to face me and smiled a huge, dimpled grin. My face flushed crimson and I could feel the heat rising to my ears. Why did I always get so embarrassed by little things? I breathed in deeply trying to calm myself.
“Hello,” he said. “You don’t have to call me sir. It looks like that girl has given us the chance to chat. What’s your name?” His English was perfect, and I was beginning to feel intimidated.
“Y/N,” I replied.
“That’s a beautiful name,” he said.
I managed to squeak out a thank you. Deep breaths were not having much of a calming effect on my nerves. I knew that this was the only chance I would ever have to do this and I had to get the right words out. I mustered every bit of courage in my body and cleared my throat.
“Um…” I started. “I have a letter that I would like to give you. If that’s okay.” I reached in my black messenger bag and pulled out the small green notebook that I had diligently recorded my thoughts in for so long.
“Absolutely,” he said as he inched closer to me. His smile was breathtakingly distracting. I was determined not to let it throw me off balance. I spoke again.
“Well, actually, it’s a lot of letters,” I said. “I’ve been writing to you, well to all of you, for the last year. You’ve changed my life, and I need you to know that. Please.” My voice trailed off as tears welled in my eyes and choked my throat. I thrust the notebook into his hands. When I spoke again, my voice wavered. “Please read it and share it with the rest of the members. It’s my whole heart.”
The commotion had begun to die down and the line of fans was forming again. I whispered thank you and turned to go. I felt him grab my wrist gently. I turned back and he smiled, leaned his head close to my ear, and whispered back.
“Thank you. I will read every word.”
The crimson hue returned to my face. I managed to smile and kept my tears from falling by looking away. I saw the broad-shouldered man that had been positioned next to him was returning to the line. He stopped short, noticing our interaction. As the smiling man pulled back from me and took his assigned place beside his friend, I noticed a look pass between them.
Looking more like a beet than myself, I turned to face the man who had noticed us. I had practiced what I would say when I met them, not wanting to embarrass myself in front of superstars. I regained my composure and managed to remember the line I had practiced.
“Annyeonghaseyo. I am so happy to meet you. Thank you,” I said. I bowed and turned to move to the next place in line. I was so nervous from being in the same room with these men that I wasn’t completely sure of what I had said. I quickly glanced at the man I had first spoke to. He was holding the green notebook tightly in his left hand. My green notebook.
Meeting them in person was completely overwhelming. When you imagine something so many times in your head, you get stuck on the idea that you have built. So, it is a bit surreal to experience it when you have finally managed to convince yourself it will only ever be a dream. Frankly, it’s terrifying. I tried my best to push all these thoughts down. I was not going to be my usual, awkward self. Not happening, I told myself.
Next, I found myself in front of a thin, pale man with a bored expression on his face. He looked up, made eye contact, and smiled a huge gummy smile. I could not help but smile back, it was contagious. He seemed to be putting me under the microscope, analyzing every bit of me. It was unnerving, as if he was looking into my soul. I looked down in embarrassment and his hand reached out to touch mine. He squeezed it gently and I felt myself blush once again. His smile grew impossibly bigger.
I felt an unexpected sense of calm as his hand held mine. He looked at me as if he knew me, and I felt as though we were long lost friends, reunited. I blinked and chided myself for imagining crazy scenarios. Self-consciously, I pulled my hand away. A brief look of despondency flashed in his eyes, and I instantly regretted withdrawing from his touch. But, the moment had passed, so I quickly said goodbye. I had to tear my eyes away from his before I found myself the cause of another commotion. As I walked away, he was still smiling and so was I.
The next face that greeted me wore a smile that lit up his whole face. This was the smile that I had been waiting for. My sunshine. My hope. Before I could use my line, he said hello in beautifully accented English. My heart melted. I almost forgot the line I had practiced; his attention causing me to become even more flustered. I managed a response, though I wasn’t at all sure what I had said. He was all smiles when he asked my name.
“Y/N,” I replied.
“Beautiful,” he said. “It is wonderful to meet you.”
My brain was scrambled but I somehow remembered how to smile. He reached out his hand, cupped my cheek and I thought I would faint.
“Beautiful,” he repeated.
He stared deeply into my eyes as if searching for something inside. I found eye contact incredibly uncomfortable, but I could not look away. His expressive eyes glistened like melted chocolate, and I was bewitched.
Our unspoken connection was broken off by someone shoving me out of the way. Another fan had decided it was time for me to move on. I forced myself to break from his gaze and smiled at the woman insincerely. I was embarrassed that I had been so caught up in the moment and at the same time irritated that it had been interrupted. Eyeing him longingly, I walked away.
At the next stop, I was again greeted by a beautiful smile. The man leaned in, grabbing my hand, and whispered something in Korean. I was far from fluent, but I thought I recognized the word ‘admire.’
“I’m not sure I understand,” I told him.
He saw my furrowed eyebrows and said, “He likes you.” He flicked his eyes to my left, and I followed his gaze. The two men with whom I had just spoken were both staring at me smiling. The one with the gummy smile quickly looked away and I saw him blush. The other man did not look away, but met my gaze, his smile beaming like sunshine. I turned away, blushing.
I looked back at the man who had whispered in my ear. He handed me a small slip of paper, still smiling, his eyes disappearing behind his grin.
“Wait,” he said, and nodded to the paper.
Again, I didn’t understand his meaning. But I nodded back and stepped down the line. What had he meant? Wait for what?
There must have been a telepathic connection between the seven men because when I stood in front of the next one, he was looking at me mischievously with a boxy smile.
“Hello, Y/N,” he said.
I stared back at him, a bewildered look on my face. How did he know my name? This whole situation was unbelievable. Desperately grasping for some semblance of normalcy, I repeated my planned line. The words dropped off my tongue, choppy, as if I were out of breath. I was using all my faculties to simply hold myself together.
As I bowed and turned to leave, he quietly said, “See you soon.”
I was sure that I had to have imagined it. I felt like I was losing my mind. I needed to get out in the fresh air and clear my head.
I cast a sideways glance at the man I had just left. A man who I hadn’t noticed behind him stepped forward, and he leaned in, whispering. He pointed in the direction of the exit, and the man who had been listening nodded and walked away.
The last man in line had noticed too and looked as confused as I was. We both watched the man with the boxy smile for a few seconds longer. Finally, he shrugged his shoulders and turned to face me. He said hello, and I replied the way I had practiced. He smiled innocently and I turned to walk away. I felt guilty for not at least returning his smile. The way I was feeling was not his fault. I should have been more polite, but I felt like I had to get out of that room before I lost my mind.
I stepped away from the line and took a deep breath. Before leaving, I glanced back at the line of men. The man with the dimpled grin was engrossed in a conversation with a young fan. I could see that he was still holding my notebook tightly in his hand. The man next to him was listening intently and smiling as another young fan spoke to him.
The man with the gummy smile was facing a fan, but I noticed that his eyes were discreetly darting back and forth, as if he were searching for something. As his eyes searched, they met mine. He blushed again, his gummy smile widening, and turned back to the fan in front of him, seemingly pleased that he had found what he was looking for.
The man next to him was also talking, but suddenly looked in my direction. I thought it was odd that he seemed to know exactly where I was standing. He looked down towards his hand hanging by his side. My eyes instinctively followed his and I saw that his fingers were poised in a heart. I looked up, his sunshine smile widened, and he winked. I wondered if his display of affection was in fact directed at me.
The man who had slipped the note to me met my eye and nodded to the piece of paper I was still holding in my hand. I had almost forgotten about it. My grip tightened, and I felt anxious to see its contents. As soon as I got out of here, I would read it.
Finally, I looked at the two men at the end of the line. The one with the boxy smile winked at me, and I turned to go. As I slipped out the door, I wondered if I was really dreaming. This had been the most bizarre night of my life. Suddenly desperate to feel fresh air on my face, I quickened my pace towards the door.
#bts#bts jhope#bts suga#bts sope#bts jung hoseok#bts min yoongi#jung hoseok#min yoongi#fanfic#kpop fanfic#jhope#suga#bts fic#bts fanfic#bts jhope fanfic#bts suga fan fic#jhope fanfic#suga fanfic#jung hoseok fanfic#min yoongi fanfic
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