#promptwistbidx
Text
Mobius
They say some infinities are bigger than others’ and you can’t say that you fully understood what that meant—at least not until you fell in love with Kim Namjoon, the time-traveller and the man who lived in your house, decades before you.
◈ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader (A Time Travel AU // strangers to lovers AU)
◈ Genre: Romance, Angst with a happy ending, Smut, Fluff (PG-18) (slight hair pulling, if that’s a problem for you here’s a warning)
◈ Word Count: 9657 (of which 3k is smut so lol you’re welcome)
◈ Based on the prompt: In the middle of the night, you hear strange sounds. You go to investigate, only to find a man rummaging through your fridge. At the same time, you both say, "What are you doing in my house?" It turns out that the man lived in your house decades ago. But how did he get here? by @megahwn
◈ Event: Written for the “Prompt Twist” event hosted by @bangtanidx
“Because time is a drop in the ocean, and you cannot measure off one drop against another to see which one is bigger, which one is smaller.”
Mobius :: an infinite loop.
*clang*
Your brows furrow as you turn on your bedside lamp and you wince when the bright light assaults your vision. As your blurry eyes try to focus on your bedside alarm clock, you realise that it has been less than three hours since you went to bed.
'What the hell?!' Is the thought at the forefront of your mind as you groan and scoot off your bed. Your scowl only grows darker as your feet touch the cold floor of your apartment.
You had recently bought the property two months ago. You were a writer by profession, and while your books didn't top the bestsellers list, you earned enough to live comfortably. The added bonus of your job being your passion wasn't lost on you either.
As you walk across your room to your door, the noises only get louder. You think you had closed the windows before going to sleep so it shouldn't be the wind, but maybe the wind was strong, and the latch unlocked on its own?
When you had bought the land, it wasn't barren. The property you had bought also had a two-storey built house on it, one you had additionally paid for too. However, it's times like tonight that make you think, that perhaps, buying an old house, with creaky floorboards and loose windows wasn't the smartest decision.
Climbing down the stairs, you tighten your robe around your body to shield yourself from the cold that would settle every time the sun would set. Again, one of the perks of buying an old, abandoned house.
You follow the sounds to your kitchen, your feet padding across the living room. The sound of your footsteps drowned by the noises that were coming from the kitchen.
However, as you enter your kitchen, you freeze midstep. Your eyes widen, and you take a step back, as your eyes take in the scene.
There was a man, crouched over, rummaging through your fridge for lord knows what. A man who you had, from the looks of his back, never seen before in your life.
Your breathes quicken, and adrenaline flows through your veins as your fight or flight instinct kicks in.
You move soundlessly, tiptoeing to where there is a lamp kept on a small table. Your eyes stay locked onto the intruders hunched over figure as you pick it up, wrapping the wire around your arm, to make sure that it wouldn't make any noise as you move.
'To charge or to ask?' The thought runs through your head as your eyes stay trained on his figure. While you did want to protect yourself, you also didn't want to accidentally, fatally injure a hungry, homeless man. As your eyes roam over his old fashioned outfit, your belief only strengthens. Definitely homeless.
When you move to close the distance, the floor below your feet creeks and you curse. Hearing the sound of your curse, the intruders face snaps up, his figure spinning and turning to look at you.
You freeze like a deer caught in headlights, as your eyes lock with him, and at the same time, you both say, "What are you doing in my house?"
Your brows furrow and your eyes narrow, as you scoff out an, "Excuse me? The house you're in right now? Yeah, mine."
Taking a threatening step toward him, you raise your lamp and continue, "Now let me ask that again, Who are you and just what the fuck do you think you are doing in my house, hoarding my fridge?"
The man raises his brows incredulously as he points at himself and goes, "I don't know who you are, but this is my house." He then pauses as his eyes travel to where you are holding the lamp high above your head before he continues, "And I believe that lamp is loose, I'd suggest that you lower your hand before the bulb falls off and shatters on your head."
You blink taken aback before your eyes narrow further. You look up and flinch away from the lamp as you realise that the stranger wasn't lying.
"Who even—"
"Are you?" The unknown man finishes your thought, before looking at you with raised a brow.
Somehow, that makes you feel a little stupid and that, annoys you more.
'Fuck him and his holier-than-thou attitude.' Your mind supplies, miffed and maybe a little irrational, as you further narrow your eyes at him.
"Well genius, why don't you answer the question then?" You practically spit out, your words coming out more like a hiss at the end. You were at your wits end, and your patience was all but ready to snap.
The man looks at you, his jaw clenched and jutting out as he regards you. You unconsciously pull your robe tighter over your body, unsure and wary of his intent. His eyes sweep over you, then sweep over your kitchen, narrowed and contemplative?
"Excuse me?!"
"Shush, one second." He replies as he raises a finger at you as if to ask you to stay quiet?
'What the actual fuck?' Is the only thought that runs through your head as you stand there and wait for the man to finish musing over whatever it was that he was contemplating. There wasn't much else that you could do anyway. You take that time to observe him too and gulp when you see how low the neckline of his shirt is. The material thin and almost see-through hangs lose around his body, the cuffs draping low over his fingers.
You think if you hadn't met him in such unconventional circumstances, you'd have been interested in him.
"The bedroom is through the second door on the floor above this. Also, there is a crack that runs through the third tile on the left of the bathroom door."
Your gaze snaps back to him when you hear him say that and you gape.
Your mouth opens, but no words come out as you look at him with furrowed brows. He shouldn't—couldn't have known those finer details about the interior of your house.
"Wh-what?" Your voice comes out soft, unsure, as your head tilts in confusion. His dark, thin eyes track the movement, follow the way your hair come loose with the motion and slip past your shoulder.
"I have a theory behind why I am in your kitchen, but I don't think you'll believe me." He responds, his eyes never once straying from where they were fixed somewhere on your shoulder.
Your eyes furrow in confusion as your eyes track his line of sight, a soft gasp leaving your mouth as you realise your robe had slipped off your shoulder, and the bare skin of your shoulder was in his plain sight. Quickly gliding a hand over your forearm, pretending like you were itching at a point on your shoulder, you slide your robe up.
The strangers' eyes snap away then, and he blushes?
His behaviour was confusing you more and more. First, he wasn't answering your questions then he was creepy staring at your bare shoulder, and it all that wasn't enough now, he was embarrassed.
'It's way too early for this.'
You clear your throat and wait for him to look at you before continuing, "Right, I might not believe you, but I'd like to hear your theory anyway, but," and here you hold your finger up before you continue, " I'd like to know your name first. Mine's Y/n, and I can't say it's exactly a pleasure to meet you."
At that, he cracks a smile before he puts his hand out and goes, "Hello, I'm Namjoon and uh, I am sorry about all this," Here he randomly waves his hand in the air as if to indicate the mess you two were in before he continues, "but let's talk? I'll try my best to explain."
You nod and shake his hand, a little wary before you gesture him to follow you and you both settle down on your living room couches. Him on the seat opposite yours, as you wait for him to continue.
Namjoon, as you now know, wrings his hands, chin again jutting out as he seems to be deep in his thoughts. You glance at the living room clock and wince when you see the time but don't say anything, for once not disturbing him and instead wait for him to gather his thoughts.
"Do you know who I am?"
Your brows furrow when you hear him say that and you give him a look as if to say what do you think?
He, however, doesn't take any offence to your snappy attitude, and continues, "I mean, have you ever heard my name before?"
At that, you furrow your brows and shrug. "I know a few Namjoons so, what?"
His eyes widen when he hears you say that and he huffs, "Right, My bad, what I meant was my full name is Kim Namjoon. Does that ring any bells?"
Your eyes widen when you hear him say his full name. 'Kim Namjoon', your lips form the words, but no sound comes out. The back of your neck breaks out in cold sweat when you finally put the name to his face. Back when you had been looking to buy the property, your agent had informed you of Namjoons status; missing, and the conspiracy around his disappearance, still no signs of where he was or how he went missing.
He looks at you, observes your reaction and nods as if you had just confirmed something. "That's what I thought. My name is Kim Namjoon, and I am or well," here he stops before he looks at the calendar that was on the table beside his couch and continues, "Was the owner of this house 40 years ago."
You blink before your mouth opens, but again no words come out, and you close your mouth again. Thinking back to a few minutes ago, it suddenly makes sense to you as to how Namjoon would know those details about the interior of your house.
'He lived here, or is it lives here?'
"Where were you all this time then?" You ask instead, you have too many questions and you don't know which one you should ask first so, you go with what comes to your mind first.
Namjoon glances at you surprised, maybe he had expected you to freak out, which would be the logical thing to do, but you are a fantasy author, and you remember what Kim Namjoon's profession was, you just hope your hunch is right and that he wasn't a ghost instead.
As you raise your brow, he snaps out of whatever stupor he was stuck in and continues, "I've been living here. Well or I was at least, I don't know how to explain it to you. I barely understand it on my own, but I have a guess." He fumbles as he explains and you just nod to indicate that you are listening, encouraging him to continue.
"So, if you don't know who I am or was, ugh—I don't know, this is so confusing. But, well, I am a scientist, a physicist if I have to be precise. I studied time, the concept of stars, galaxies, a mixture of quantum and astrophysics." Here his hands flap around in the air randomly, which you think is his way of trying to get his point across and so you just nod to show that you are following along.
He looks at you and nods before one of his hands' rakes through his hair, the strands long, and dark, move under the force, and you gulp as your mouth suddenly goes dry. Now that you are no longer in mortal danger, your brain was finally picking up on how good looking the stranger or not such a stranger, was. His hands big, his fingers thin, long and ridiculously hot.
You snap your gaze away from him and blush as you realise just where your train of thoughts was going and internally admonish yourself for letting your libido get the best of you.
'Focus Y/N, have some shame, will you?' You think to yourself before you let out a quiet huff and straighten up, snapping your gaze back to Namjoon as you hear him continue.
"I don't fully understand how this happened either, but I had been working on a time machine." Here his eyes tentatively find yours probably expecting to see a look of disbelief or annoyance, however, you keep your face straight and expressions neutral, just nodding along as a gesture to continue.
'So your hunch was right.'
"It was a prototype, and I didn't think it would work, I mean time travel wasn't exactly a possible belief amongst the scientist community back then, probably still isn't, is it?" He asks you and looks at you with his brows raised and you fumble. You don't know if it is or isn't, but you hadn't heard about anyone inventing any time machine, so you just shake your head and hope you are right.
He nods along as if you had confirmed something again and you internally wonder why he would hold your opinion and answers so high. You barely know him, he hardly knows you too, what reasons did he have for trusting you? You could be lying, but then again what would you get from lying, it's not like you were intruding in his space.
'Or were you?' Your brain supplies and you run a hand through your hair, raking your fingers across your scalp as you groan out loud, the confusion and insaneness of the situation enough to make you feel like you were going to go crazy.
Namjoon surprised, swivels his gaze to you and frowns before he asks, concerned, "Hey, Are you okay? Do you need me to get you a glass of water? I know this is a lot to take in I can wait."
You are a little taken aback by how genuine his concern is, as you look up at him, you see his eyes on you. Squinted and full of worry, for you— a virtual stranger.
Seeing him genuinely concerned for your well being you feel a little bad about your earlier actions, and in response, you just give a small smile which you think comes out more as a grimace instead, but thankfully he doesn't comment on it.
Shaking your head with a soft, "I am fine." You urge him to continue, taking in a deep breath and settling yourself more comfortably on the couch; you have a feeling it's going to be a long night.
It has been a month since Namjoon had somehow managed to time-travel, to your time, a month since you two had started sharing the same roof over your heads.
You also were right back then because it was a long night.
Namjoon had apparently been testing the prototype of the time machine he was working on, the prototype still in its early stages wasn't fully developed, and Namjoon himself was still figuring things out with where he wanted to take that model.
On his part, it was just a side project, his little brain baby that he worked on in his spare time—something he had high hopes for but because of society and the opinions of his colleagues had been pushed back, and turned into a secret project. Not many believed that something like 'Time travel,' was possible and so they would ridicule Namjoon for his belief, mock him—call him crazy and delusional.
Your heart hurts when you think about that night now, because while you hadn't been close to Namjoon then, you are now.
In the time that you have known him, Namjoon has proven himself to be the kindest, most considerate and sweet man ever. His affection wasn't loud, and he didn't speak about how much he cared for you. Instead, his kindness and care shine through with his actions, the little things he does throughout the day that sometimes you miss at that moment, but later realise and appreciate when you think back.
His care comes through when he leaves behind a cup of coffee, made just the way you like it, every single morning on a tray outside your bedroom door with a glass of water. Or in the way, his soft voice whispers about constellations or other galaxies and paints another world as he sits on the floor beside your bed and helps you fall asleep, his hand running through the strands of your hair, just like your mother did when you were a child.
Those miscellaneous little acts of his were what kept pushing you to fall for him. You try to hold yourself back, try not to them affect you—but you know it's all in vain.
Your heart physically aches—clenches in on itself, when he looks at you with glittering eyes, orbs full of excitement and a sense of pride in his own self, when he makes a breakthrough with his repair of the prototype.
You want to be happy; you want to feel happy for him, but at the same time, you can't help but hope that his repairs don't go well, that instead, they take time. The time that you can then use to get to know him better because, good lord, do you want to know him better.
You know it's selfish to want that, he doesn't belong in the present time. Because while the land you both lived on might be same, nothing else was—not the time, not the people, nothing.
Remembering that little tiny detail, however, is hard, so so hard because you want him to be, you want him to belong to your world, to your time—to you.
Never before have you met a man who makes your heart race as Namjoon does. He makes you feel loved, cherished, happy and you selfishly want more of it, more of this happiness, more of him.
"Y/N have you seen the number four screwdriver?" You hear Namjoon yell out from your basement, his voice bellowing through the house to where you are sitting in the living room.
"Did you try the kitchen drawer?" You shout back, the back and forth of your dialogue from halfway across the house now a daily occurrence.
It's quiet for a moment, and then you hear steps padding across your creaky basement stairs, and then Namjoon is in the living room doorway, a full closelipped smile on display, passing you by on his way to the kitchen.
Your eyes follow his tall figure as he walks to the kitchen and you wince when you hear a crash, before a "Sorry about that," reaches you, and you just huff in exasperated fondness.
In the last month, you have come to realise that while Namjoon is a brilliant scientist, he is also an incredibly clumsy person, with him breaking things left and right. Just within this week, he has already shattered two of your coffee cups and a vase your mom had given you for your last birthday.
I've got to say, not too sad about the vase.
Your gaze snaps up when you hear him coming back to the living room, and you smile softly as his eyes lock with yours for a moment before he proceeds to go down the stairs to the basement.
It has been three months since you first moved in; two months since Namjoon came into your life. There wasn't much time between these two incidences, which was why you hadn't been able to fix your house and change the interior before he time travelled. And while you have slowly been making progress room after room with Namjoons help, that wasn't the case a month ago.
The basement, aka Namjoons lab, virtually abandoned for close to four decades was dusty and home to all sorts of insects and rodents; but still the same as he had left it. It was probably because of this reason that Namjoon hadn't initially noticed that his prototype had worked and that he had actually managed to time travel to the future.
The changes that you had made after moving in during the initial two months were minor enough that when Namjoon made his way to your kitchen that night a month ago, they went unnoticed by him; the dim lighting and lateness of the hour only helping to hide the changes more.
Since then you have slowly been working on repairing your home, fixing the roofs and the leaks, changing the creaky floorboards. It was a tough task, and some days you wonder if buying the land was more trouble than it was worth, but then you think of Namjoon and realise you would never have met him, if not for the house and then suddenly your fondness for the land grows.
The creaky floorboards, the chittering of mice running around in your basement, the musky smell of old wood, it all feel warm, almost cosy to you. Maybe it's just your lonely soul cherishing the company of Namjoons’ presence, but you don't dwell on the reasons, knowing full well that—that particular train of thoughts would result in you falling in love, and love wasn't ever kind to you.
Sighing you crane your neck, and let it fall onto the back of your couch, as your thoughts go to places you wish they wouldn't go.
As the clanks of Namjoon fixing up his lab, ring in the back you close your eyes and take a deep breath in, savour the moment—his presence, while you still can.
You hear Namjoons feet pad into the kitchen while you are cooking dinner, and you twist to shoot him a smile before you turn back to continue chopping the vegetables. You would ask him for help, but another thing besides elementary hand-eye coordination, that Namjoon wasn't good at was cooking.
While your new home is a little rough around the edges, it still doesn't deserve to be burned down into hot embers.
"Should I go ahead and set the plates out?" Namjoon asks from where he is leaning on the counter beside you, his eyes following the motion of your hands as you deftly chop the vegetables.
You hum and nod, a soft "Sure, Thank you," Slipping past your lips as you look back down to your chopping board to avoid looking at him for too long.
He is wearing a black muscle shirt, his muscular, coiled arms on display, with hints of his build chest and abbs showing through as the material hugs his body.
You turn your head and allow your hair to fall around your face, curtaining your blushing cheeks and wandering eyes, and take a moment to collect yourself.
It's a little ridiculous how much he affects you, how much his deep, smooth voice feels like molten gold to your ears, his smile and the crinkle around his eyes the brightest parts of your day.
You don't want to like him; if it was, something that was in your control you would prefer to hate him instead.
But the simple fact is that it wasn't—isn't in your control, not when he smiles only for his perfect dimples to pop out, not when he sits for hours beside you as you cry and stress over a chapter or lack of inspiration. Not when he then proceeds to tell you that you can do it because you are Y/N and amazing and he has complete faith in you.
Kim Namjoon is everything you have ever wanted in a man, kind, smart, hard-working, intelligent. It's like, instead of flesh and bones, he is moulded from stardust and magic, too perfect, too good to be true.
Your breath hitches and your heart skips a beat when you feel him lean closer to you, his front softly grazing against your back, as his long, tan arm stretches over your shoulder to the cupboard above and you grip the knife in your hands tighter, your body feeling light just by his mere proximity.
You breathe in to calm down, and it only makes things worse, because with every breath it's like you are breathing him in. The scent of his cologne spicy like cinnamon or spearmint, with an underlying tone of his own fragrance, something so primally Namjoon, that just the tiniest waft of it makes you feel faint.
When he finds whatever it was that he had been looking for, he pauses, inches a little closer to you, his entire front now pressed softly against your back. As he brings his hand back to himself, it grazes against your wrist then glides over your hand, lingers a little on your elbow, before it moves back to its owner.
His touch leaves fire behind in its wake, goosebumps rising over every inch of your skin and you bite your lower lip to stop any unwanted sounds from tumbling out.
It's when he is finally setting down the utensils that you allow yourself to breathe in fully, your chest aching and tight due to lack of oxygen, as you try to get your racing heart under control.
His voice rings across the kitchen as you hear him call you, to join him, and your reply comes in the form of a high pitched, "Yeah!"
Scrunching your nose at the glaringly obvious pitch change, you hope that he doesn't pick up on it. You aren't sure how much of this back and forth teasing you can take before you finally snap, but you have a feeling that the threshold isn't too far off.
You set the bowl of popcorn down on the centre table before you move to sit, your legs curling under you, as you throw a blanket over them to block the chilly night air. The open window allows in the cool breeze from outside, the subtle fragrance of wet mud and roses from your garden wafting in the living room along with it.
"Which movie?" Asks Namjoon as he takes the seat beside you, the cushion dipping under his weight as he slides himself under your shared blanket.
You bend to pick the bowl of popcorn before you hold it over the shared blanket and shrug, replying, "Surprise me."
You allow your eyes stray over to Namjoon. While he is busy picking a movie; you watch the way his brows furrow, that familiar jutted chin making an appearance as he concentrates on the task, his long post-shower hair falling in front of his eyes as messy, wet strands.
Your gaze snaps up to his eyes when you hear him snort, "Talk about ironic, Have you seen this movie before?" He asks with a tilt of his head towards the T.V, and you see the movie title, 'I'll Never Forget You,' a film by Roy Baker and you shake your head, the movie too classic for your usual taste.
Ever since you and Namjoon have started the tradition of watching a movie every night before bed, your repertoire of classic films has expanded, with him introducing you to many of his favourites, while you show him yours.
It's sweet, domestic, almost couply, and your heart tightens a little in your chest every time you realise that while the intimacy might seem real, it isn't the truth.
The inevitability of Namjoon going back to his time isn't lost on you either.
The movie starts, and you recline back onto your couch, the shared bowl of popcorn between you and Namjoon slowly growing lighter as the film progresses. Your fingers bump into each other; some accidentally, and some intentionally. The slide of your nails softly moving against his long, thin fingers, holding more of your attention than the movie.
Your fingers tangle as you both dig for the last few popcorns and you pretend it's not deliberate, but you can't deny that your heart races with the simple action.
The plot progresses, and your hands grow sweaty, your unease increasing as you realise just why Namjoon had called the movie ironic.
The plot revolves around a scientist, who goes back in time and takes the place of one of his ancestors. Fated to marry a woman called Kate, he slowly gets to know her, only to be more interested in her sister Helen. As he stumbles throughout the movie, making mistakes and saying things he shouldn't, dropping his knowledge of the future, Helen falls more and more in love with him.
You shift, uncomfortable and watch as he finally admits to Helen that he is from the future and shows her his basement laboratory, the similarity of the plot while not exact was still quite noticeable.
The end though is what leaves you frozen, your limbs feeling cold and unmoving, as your eyes take in the scene where the man goes back to his time and realises that when he left the past timeline, Helen's grief and sorrow, ate her inside until it finally became too much and took her life.
As the end credits roll, you stay frozen, your spine ramrod straight and your eyes unfocused and blurry, filled with tears that drip down to your cheeks.
You feel as Namjoon shifts to get up, but pauses when he sees you crying. You think you hear him call out your name, but your ears are ringing, and your head is buzzing, filled with far too many troubling thoughts.
Is that going to be me? Will my grief and sorrow cripple me too? You dread just the thought of him going back, how will you ever survive the reality?
Your body shudders, as a loud sob escapes you and you finally break down. Tears drip out of your eyes, leaving wet trails against the soft skin of your cheeks. You taste their saltiness on your lips, feel as your lungs burn due to lack of oxygen as shudder after shudder rack your body.
You hear Namjoon move, as he shifts closer to you and starts running his hands over your forearms, pulling you closer to him and you bury your face in the crook of his neck and let the tears wet his skin.
When another shudder racks your body, you try to take a breath in, your lungs clenching in on themselves, but you regret it instantly.
With every single broken inhale, you breathe more of Namjoon, his cologne, his very own essence, the scent a mixture of the wild and old books.
It's confusing and insane—and so painfully Namjoon. The duality of it much like its owner in the way that Namjoon would be the quietest, most focused person ever when he is working on something, but would turn goofy and clumsy the next second, would make you laugh so hard that your cheeks would hurt and you'd be left gasping for breath.
His presence is like a shot of heroin to your bloodstream, and you are afraid you might be addicted, maybe you are addicted. You must be because the thought of him not being there under the same roof, the same timeline kills you, makes you feel like clawing your heart out and throwing it away, so it would just finally stop hurting.
"Y/N, hey shush, it's a movie, it's okay, you are fine, shush, come here," Namjoon says and pulls you closer, and you suddenly want to scream, pull your hair out, throw a tantrum because doesn't he understand? Doesn't he get that it wasn't just a movie? That someday the scientist would be him and the heartbroken woman in love, you?
He runs his hand over your back, caresses your skin through the layer of your shirt, and you want to push him away, pull him closer. You want him to go away, want him to stay. You want to hold him close, keep him in your arms, house him in your heart so that you never lose him.
You bite your lip as a shudder racks through your body again, and sob out, "Why would you show m-me th-that?" Your words come out broken and in pieces at the end, and you bury your face deeper into his neck. Maybe if you push hard enough, you can push yourself inside him, and then you two can stay together forever.
You feel him tighten his arms around you as he brings you closer, his face coming to rest on the crown of your head, his chin rubbing small, slow circles on the top.
"I am sorry," He says, his voice is smooth—deep, and you feel as the words come rumbling out of his chest, feel the vibrations against your skin, and you clench your eyes closed, more tears slipping out.
"Hey shush, Y/N please don't cry, I am so sorry, I shouldn't have put it on, that was stupid of me, I—" Here he pauses, takes a breath in and you feel his chest moving against yours before he continues, "I should have known better."
You hear his apology, but it does nothing to soothe the burn in your chest because it's not like he has done anything to hurt you, all he did was show you a movie. It's your sentimental, stupid, lovesick heart that decided to take it personally.
"Can you look at me?" You hear him whisper close to your ear, and you tremble, your fingers gripping his shirt around his waist as you nod, the motion making your hair run against his chin and you feel as he shifts, drops a kiss on the crown of your head, his hands moving to rub over your arms.
He cradles your face softly, and his fingers softly caress your cheeks, wipe the tears away, before they make soft circles over your cheekbones. You melt at his touch, of course you do, because no matter what happens, regardless of how much you end up getting hurt at the end, the simple fact is that at this moment? Nestled between the strong, warm arms of the man that you are in love with, you'd choose the pain, the grief, the inevitable agony because at least you have him now. And maybe you are a little selfish—a little stupid, but you still don't want to push him away, not when you can have him now.
Eventually, your breaths start coming out a little clearer, your sobs no longer sending shudders down your spine, and you lay there drained. Tucked under Namjoons chin as he rocks you side to side in slow, gentle motions.
You smile against his neck because it reminds you so much of how your mom would calm you down when you were a child, and your heart squeezes a little in your chest at the realisation.
"Could you get me some water?" You mumble into the crook of Namjoons’ neck. Your words come out soft, and a little muffled but thankfully he understands them and moves to shift away from you, and you let him, moving back and bowing your head, as you wipe away the tear tracks and block your running nose.
'Great look Y/N. Real nice.'
Looking at your reflection in the glass of the centre-table, you wince when you see puffy, bloodshot eyes staring back at you.
The sound of a glass falling into the sink snaps you out of your thoughts, and you snort, Namjoon's clumsiness more endearing than anything else at this point.
"Joon, you good?"
"Yeah! uh, I'll be out in a minute, just stay there will you?"
"Will do!" And with that, you relax back into the cushion. The two of you had gotten the routine down pretty quick, while you were all for supporting each other, you had realised that your presence around him only increased his clumsiness further for some reason, which would then result into more broken dishes. And so, for the sake of both your crockery bill and Namjoons pride, you stay put.
As you shift to lay more comfortably on the couch, your eyes stray to your garden outside, being a writer wasn't exactly an office job. Most of your time was spent at home, usually in your balcony as you'd groan and painstakingly figure out plot details. So, you had grown your garden with a lot of care, much like anything else in your life. You took your time with it, cared and nurtured for the seeds until they finally bloomed to be the beautiful flowers that they were today.
You like taking your time with things, whether it's writing a book or forming friendships or even falling in love. You are patient, and you believe in taking the time to get to know other people, but with Namjoon, you are afraid instead of being too quick, you might be too late.
As you hear his feet pad across the house, towards you, your resolve strengthens.
The idea is crazy, sudden, not thought through at all, but you also know that if you give yourself any more time to think, you will cop-out. So, with your heart in your throat, you spin around and blurt, "I think I am in love with you, please don't go."
Looking back perhaps blurting out your undying love without any context whatsoever wasn't the smartest decision on your part.
You worry your bottom lip with your teeth as your eyes take in another broken glass and spilt water.
You force your eyes to not stray—to not travel up to the man who is standing in the middle of all the wreckage, surrounded by broken glass and spilt water. You don't know what the expression on his face is, what the thoughts whirring inside his head are, but at the moment you aren't sure if you want to know them either.
The sound of breaking glass had served as a wake up a call to you, whatever insane bravado that had led you to decide that confessing your feelings would be a good idea, sapping away with the loud sound and bringing you back to your senses.
Your fists clench when you hear Namjoon shift as he takes a step forward, in response you take two back.
"H-hey careful! There's glass all over the floor. You'll hurt yourself!" You squeak out, but Namjoon doesn't stop nor does he reply.
His feet pad closer to you, and the sound rings in the quiet of the room almost ominously.
You trip over your own feet in your haste to get off the couch and move away, nearly face-planting against the floor, but save yourself at the last second. When you push your head up, raking a hand through your hair and pushing the strands back, you realise that Namjoon is right there—in front of you.
"What did you just say?" He almost whispers, his voice coming out quiet and raspy—but to you? It feels loud, the whisper no different than if he had shouted it from the top of his lungs because you hear him loud and clear.
You just avert your gaze away and let the silence stretch on, did he not hear you? Why'd he shatter the glass then? And why doesn't he use a hearing aid if he's so selectively deaf?
"Y/N, look at me."
You don't, and instead, keep your gaze away as you move to side-step him, but before you can push past, his hands are down on your shoulders pushing you back into the wall.
You gasp, the breath knocking out of you when you feel your back hit the wall, the feel of his hands following close after, as one snakes around your waist while the other curves around your head, your hair bunching under his grip.
"Say it again." His voice, breathy and raspy breaks the stillness of the air around you, and you gulp as your gaze locks with his, the look in his eyes wild, almost feral.
His eyes are blown out and dark with lust, his lips parted as small puffs of his breath fall onto your lips, and you try your best not to shiver, try your best not to give away just how much he affects you.
When you still refuse to answer, his grip over your hair tightens, your head tilting back under the force, as his face inches closer.
Your eyes against your will fall to his lips—pink and full, and you unconsciously lick your own, wetting them as your teeth bury themselves into the soft flesh. His eyes follow the motion, and you think he groans a little deep in his chest, but when your eyes snap back up to his, they are looking into yours.
"Y/N, I am going to kiss you, push me away if you don't want me to," He whispers, as his hold over your hair grows softer, his other hand sliding up the side of your body, as both his hands tangle in the silky strands of your hair.
He inches closer as he closes the distance between the two of you, but despite his warning, you don't do anything and instead stay put, waiting, aching for him.
When his lips finally touch yours, you feel your hands rise without your accord as they slide over his torso. You feel the dips and curves of his chest muscles, sense his heart thudding under your touch, the warmth of his body heat curling around your skin, enveloping you and you push yourself closer, tangling your hands around the nape of his neck.
His lips are soft under yours, the touch slow, warm and sensual. He doesn't rush you and instead takes his time as his hands run over your back, caress the skin under before they pull you closer to him.
You're close, hairsbreadth close and there is no space between the two of you, your lips locked—your bodies touching each other, as your breaths mingle.
His lips leave yours, and you let out a soft huff as you twist to have them back on your own, but he pushes your head to the side, revealing the soft, smooth skin of your neck.
He exhales, warm breath hitting your skin, and you almost mewl out loud, goosebumps rising over the sensitive skin of your nape in response. He chuckles when you try to push your shoulder up before one of his hand shifts to hold your jaw softly, but with enough force to prevent you from moving.
The feel of his plush, plump lips on your neck leaves tingles running down your spine, and you can not help but shudder when those same lips part and close around your skin, sucking the flesh in. The moist, warm cavern of his mouth over your slightly cooler skin has you moaning out loud as your hands curl around his waist in pleasure.
His lips run over the skin of your neck—caressing, kissing and sucking the soft skin until it's left red and covered in a thin layer of his saliva. The much cooler air of the room hits your skin, and you tilt your head back; hit the wall behind softly as he kisses his way down your neck, to your chest.
His tongue leaves a wet, trail in its wake, and his nose dips under the depression of your collar bone before he breathes the faint smell of you in. His lips leave a soft peck there as he nuzzles the underside of your chin softly before your head is being pulled straight, your eyes meeting his dark, chocolate brown ones.
Now that you are closer and can look clearly, you realise there are flecks of hazel at the outer edges, the hazel and brown all swirling together to form a warm pool of tender, shimmering orbs.
This time you decide to take the lead, taking his hand in yours, you pull him to your room, him following behind as your fingers intertwine and the soft sound of his feet padding behind you rings in the quiet of the room.
As you slam the door to your room shut, you feel as Namjoons' hands again fall to your body, disentangling his fingers from yours, he glides them from your wrist to your elbows, forearms, then shoulders—your shirt bunching under his ministrations.
The feel of his touch is like a flame over your skin even through the layers of clothes, and you just tilt your head back, letting it fall on his shoulder, as you let him do what he pleases. His hands softly stroke over your waist, the motion slow and deliberate, but still over your tee and you arch, pushing your back into him as you try to feel more of his touch, more of him.
Namjoon takes the hint, drops a kiss onto your shoulder before his hands are under your knees and you are in his arms, bridal style, being carried over to your bed.
The mattress dips under your combined weight as Namjoon lays you down before he leans forward and kisses you. This time you meet him halfway, pushing and straining to take the lead as your tongue swipes across his lower lip asking for entrance, one he instantly grants. Tugging his hair strands softly, you hear him let out a groan from somewhere deep in his chest, before you are pulling him closer, your hands getting lost between the soft, long strands of his hair.
Your tongue glides over his, tangles and twists around as it pushes to lead. Strings of your shared saliva hang between the two of you when you lean back to rest and catch your breath, and you chuckle when you realise just how badly you had been holding yourself back for a while.
While you are catching your breath, Namjoon is busy getting rid of his clothes. Your hands itch to run over his chiselled chest, but you hold yourself back and appreciate the view for a second. In the dim light of the room, you look at Namjoons body and your breath hitches, as the realisation of just how fine he is, hits you all over again.
Long legs, thin waist, that rise to make way for wide shoulders and pectoral muscles to absolutely die for, not a single imperfection marred his smooth, tanned skin.
Every inch of him from his toes to the tip of his hair strands was perfect— or maybe you are just in love. Whatever the reason, you don't stop yourself, unabashedly raking an appreciative gaze over his body and let out a soft groan when he pulls his tee off of him, the action simple but incredibly hot to you in the moment.
‘‘Like what you see babygirl?” Namjoon smirks, now only in his boxers, as he gets down on his knees and leans over to unbutton your jeans, the button coming undone with a pop before he pushes the flap open and drops a kiss on the exposed skin of your navel.
You just humm, too wired with Namjoon so close to where you want, need him to be. Your exhales come out broken and your chest feels tight with anticipation.
You don't think anyone has ever made you feel this way before, you have barely even started, but for some reason, you can feel your wetness dripping out of you as the heat in your belly grows stronger.
A surprised squeak pushes out of you, and you arch off the bed, closing your legs when you realise Namjoon had pulled your panties along with your jeans and now you were naked, bare with nothing to hide just how aroused you were.
When your strayed eyes return back to Namjoons you find him standing there looking at you, you feel as his gaze rakes over you, slides over your skin like water and you blush, curl into yourself, a little self-conscious.
“You're the single most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” Namjoon speaks, his voice soft and breathy, as his eyes find yours in the dim light, soft, glittering and brimming with affection. Looking into his eyes you feel reassured, confident in your own skin as you see how much you affect him and you push yourself up, sliding across the bed only stopping once you are at the edge.
With your hands on Namjoons waist, you push him back a few steps, getting down on your knees on the floor, you push your fingers under the waistband of his boxers and lookup. His gaze that was till now filled with nothing but affection and soft love for you was now once again growing dark, his chin jutting out, as his long, dark strands fell in front of his eyes, making him look like a dark, sinful dream.
One of his hands comes to your chin before it caresses the skin there and moves to the nape of your neck, sliding across your skin until it finally rests at the crown of your head—his touch leaving fire behind in its wake.
Still, with your eyes trained on his, you push the waistband down, the last piece of clothing on him, falling away under your hands with it.
His hand on your head tangles with your hair as he runs it through your strands, wrapping the ends around his hand like a yarn ball, and tugs.
Your neck arches from where it was inching closer to him before he tugs again, and you push yourself off of your knees and on your feet, as the tug becomes slightly painful. What you hadn’t accounted for before was how much you’d like that pain, the sting doing nothing more but arousing you further.
You try to take your tee off, but he tugs your hair again, and you let the ends drop, your eyes coming and finding him instead.
Your heart thuds and you wonder if he can hear it too. Your pulse racing, as your breaths come out more as soft pants than complete breaths. The foreplay, the tease, the promise of his touch has you feeling unbearably hot, and you feel as your wetness drips out of you and runs down your thigh.
“The shirt stays until I say otherwise.” Namjoon whispers before his lips are on you again. His hands sliding under your knees, as your legs go around his waist.
Picking you up, he lays you back on the bed before his lips leave yours and find purchase in the crook of your neck. His pillowy soft lips skim over your neck, leaving you breathless and you moan as they move down to your shoulder, his hands on your breasts kneading and squeezing the flesh.
When his lips finally fall to your breasts, you let out a broken moan, his mouth hot, wet and painfully good even through the thin layer of your tee. You internally thank your lucky stars that you had decided to forego your bra that day.
With only a thin, now wet piece of clothing between your sensitive bud and Namjoons mouth, the pleasure you feel makes your toes curl.
Your hands tangle in his strands, and his mouth moves over your shirt—biting, pulling and licking at the skin under.
Broken gasps and moans pour out of your mouth like a mantra, the feel of his other hand running down your side and stopping at your inner thigh, making you mewl as you ache for his touch.
Namjoon, however, has the patience of a saint, as even though you can feel how hard he is against your thigh, he doesn’t rush. Instead, taking his time as his lips rove over your breasts, kissing and sucking your skin under the tee raw.
You groan out in relief when his hands finally pull the ends of your tee over your head, and your skin feels the cool air of the room hit it, your nipples growing hard under the temperature shift.
When his lips finally do fall to your bare skin, it feels like heaven, your body so sensitive that, a simple tug on his side has you crashing into an orgasm—your back arching off the bed as a loud moan rips out of your body, waves of pleasure rushing through your bloodstream.
You hear Namjoon release your nipple with a 'pop' before he moves to slide further down your body, but you stop him.
Hands wrapped around his forearms, his muscles coiled and tight under your touch, you rasp out, “I want you, now.”
Your chest is still heaving from your last orgasm when you feel Namjoon position himself at your entrance, you moan when he bumps into you before he is sliding in and the moan turns into a loud groan.
Your legs cross behind his back as he drives into you and your walls clench, fluttering and squeezing him as your lips part, sighs and soft moans slipping out.
“Joon, oh god!"
You find his eyes in the dim-lit room, and you bring him closer, the hands on the nape of his neck pulling him to you, as you reach out to kiss him. The rush of affection and love that flows through your veins for the man above you almost makes you cry, the feel of his solid, warm body anchoring you to the reality of the moment. All your life all you had wanted was to be the one, someones forever after, you wanted the kind of love you dreamed of as a child, wrote about as an adult, and with Namjoon—with him? You think you might finally have found it.
His mouth is insistent on yours, parting your lips and dwelling in, licking and stroking every inch, sending wild tremors along your nerves as he becomes the only solid thing. Everything else around you falling apart, fading away until all you can feel is him.
Pulling back on a particularly deep thrust, Namjoon groans as your walls clench around him, pulling him in, every time he pulls back. You feel wet, warm and deliciously full as he thrusts in deep and hits your sweet spot, making your toes curl.
Moans and cries of his name fall off your lips like a prayer as he rocks into you and you feel the heat in your abdomen simmer, as an orgasm starts to build. Your hands grasp Namjoons back, and your nails scrape against the skin, making him growl out loud.
“Come for me baby, I’ve got you,” Namjoon whispers over your skin, his lips fluttering and forming the words over the juncture of your collarbone, leaving you with shivers running down your spine.
With a few more thrusts to your sweet spot, you are sent craning into your orgasm, your back arching as a scream rips out of you, and the world spins, as pure unadulterated euphoria flows through your veins.
Not too behind, Namjoon quickly follows with a loud groan, your name slipping past his lips, in a deep, guttural voice.
Your walls grip him tight, and you pull him closer into you as he comes, filling you up from inside, and you are left feeling full—sated.
As his orgasm rushes through him, the fall from the peak sending him reeling, he falls onto your chest, his face between your breasts and you run your hands through his hair, savour the moment, the feel of him still inside you, as close to you as anyone could ever physically be.
After a few seconds of catching his breath, he leans back a little to look at you, and you tilt your head up to meet him.
With only a few inches of space between the two of you, you take your time and look at each other, relish the closeness, let the reality set in. The silence stretches on, but it isn’t uncomfortable, if anything it’s nicer, like a warm hug, a space in time when you don’t need words because the touch of the other person is enough, more than enough.
“I love you.” You finally break the silence, your voice coming out low and a little hoarse, as your eyes gaze into his warm, chocolate brown ones. The very same eyes that you had looked into not too long ago and thought belonged to a stranger.
Now, you look into them and they look like coming home, the tiny little flecks of hazel at the edges which might go unseen by others, now so familiar to you .
That familiar close eyed smile of his that he has on now, as he hears you say that, the happy stretch of his full lips when he smiles, all of it fills you with so much love for him.
“I love you too.” Namjoon says, his deep, breathy voice forming the words that you had been longing to hear for some time now.
His eyes turn into two crescent moons when he sees you grin and a laugh spills out of him at seeing you get so happy after hearing his admission.
As you lay there, curled under him, you think you’ve finally got all that you had hoped for as a child, your own little perfect fairy tale. A house tucked away from the world, a garden full of roses, a job that you are passionate about, but most importantly, a man that you love—your own prince charming.
At that moment you feel like the two of you are infinite, the threads of your feelings for each other woven with your love—love that is far stronger than anything that time could wear and tear.
Cocooned under Namjoons warmth, with his arm wrapped tight against your waist, and your legs tangled with his, you think you finally understand why they say some infinities are bigger than other infinities.
Because even if you were galaxies apart, your soul would still always call out for Namjoon—would find him and then would tether itself to his forever, timelines and distances be damned.
Love ya, Thanks for reading!
—ditttiii ♡
#promptwistbidx#btswritingcafe#networkbangtan#btsghostie#ficswithluv#btsgoldnet#btswriterscollective#btsbookclub#bangtanhq#bts fanfiction#bts fanfic#bts smut#bts x reader#bts x y/n#bts x you#kim namjoon fanfic#kim namjoon smut#kim namjoon fluff#kim namjoon angst#namjoon fanfic#namjoon fluff#namjoon smut#rm x reader#rm fanfic#rm fluff#rm smut#bts rm x reader#kim namjoon oneshot#knj#knj x reader
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genre: college au, teacher/student, dance instructor!hoseok, dance student! y/n, fluff
warning(s)!!!: college stress (duh), y/n waited a couple years after high school before college for fiances, it’s not a college au unless someone works at a coffee shop lol, flirty hoseok, y/n might be a bit ditzy but in a cute way, y/n is also scared of storms
w.count: 5.4k
summary: moving to Seoul, South Korea had been a dream of yours and when you found out that you got accept at one of the best universities, you couldn’t have been happier! That is until you met your dance teacher. He was handsome, but strict and he made you fall for him hard. You never thought he would feel the same until you got locked up one rainy night.
Series | One-shot | Two-shot | Drabble | [Rated: PG-13]
a/n: this is my contribution to BangtanIDX Prompt Twist! I got @pjmsgalaxy prompt, so I hope she (and everyone else) enjoys it! Gotta be honest, I’m not sure if I’ve ever written a teacher/student fic and i don’t read much of them dafdlskf, there’s a first time for everything LMAO I hope I did alright asdlfjakj (I also very very sloppily proof read this, or i proofread half of it then got lazy uhoh)
“Where did I-” you muttered to yourself as you dug through the fourth box in your newly moved into studio apartment. You were a reigning champ of procrastination and now you were looking for your gym duffel to place all your dance equipment in.
Not finding it in lucky box number four, you sighed and continued your quest to find the hideously amazing holographic duffel your mother had bought for you just before your move to Seoul. “There you are!” You exclaimed as you saw a small patch of shining, colorful silver before you grabbed it and yanked it out. Small trinkets and pens flew from the box in its rupture out of the cardboard prison.
It had been just two days since you had signed a lease for this single, tiny, cramped apartment in Seoul. But, it was your best choice of living because who would’ve thought that Seoul’s living expenses were through the roof. It would do, however; since you were finally getting ready to enroll in Hanyang University in their department of dance. Part of your subconscious wasn’t able to comprehend the fact that you managed to get into a private university in Seoul, but nonetheless there you were.
You sat on your floor, boxes all around you with your holographic duffel with rainbow striped straps on your lap. You sighed as you felt a small flutter of nerves in your chest.
This was what you have wanted since you realized how much you loved dancing. Graduating, majoring in dance, going to a prestigious school. It was all so much more dazzling than you thought it’d be. Of course, you had to take a couple years off of high school to save up enough money to even begin thinking about college tuition, but now here you were. Two years of hard work finally paid off as you were enrolling into education once more.
“Oh shoot,” you hissed as you placed the duffel aside and made for other boxes. “I need to find my alarm clock. I know I just saw it,” you muttered more as you began to once again dig around. Unpacking fully would need to wait- it was already 7 in the evening. Unpacking your new home would be a tomorrow job and future you’s problem.
It was bright and early the next day as you dragged yourself out of your messy, box filled apartment with a bag of books and folders and your duffel packed full with a water bottle, proper shoes and a change of clothes. Along with your typical dance classes of ballet and choreography (or also called composition) courses, you would be taking your standard classes as well. Dance history and theory for example. Those were more sit down and take notes classes, so your standard textbook and spiral notebook were absolutely a must.
Dressed with your jeans rolled to your calf and your shirt untucked, you walked to sit patiently at the public bus stop just in time to catch the 8 o’clock morning rounds. Getting off with a handful of other college students, you almost halted at the university gates. Those nerves thumping in your chest again before you pulled yourself together and finally took those first steps as a twenty-year-old college student.
You entered the spacious dance studio your choreography class was held in as you gulped. You had just changed into your leggings and sweater with your less than brilliant shoes with just enough grip left on the soles not to slide around.
You ducked your head instinctively as you trotted to the back of the room. The mirrors across the studio tracked your every tiptoed step as some students were stretching. Some were doing warm ups, some doing small numbers of footwork, others just standing talking or keeping to themselves until the instructor came. You were of the latter group. Taking refuge up in a corner as you sat your duffel (that happened to stand out way too much among the others) behind you and took a seat.
As you sat, you opened your legs in front of you and did small stretches just to occupy yourself until the class began. The lump in your throat made it damn near impossible to even try and talk to someone else even though you knew you’d be working and dancing with these people through your major years.
As you were stretching forward to grab around your foot and feel the comfortable pull in your legs, you silently hoped that the instructor you ended up with wouldn’t be a complete nightmare. You’ve seen and read one too many dramatic stories that involve over the top teachers who have the ‘perfect or failing’ mentality. Of course, you knew that it was all for show and production in your books or on your television screen- but nonetheless, it was stressful to think about.
You yelped when someone tapped your shoulder, getting your attention as you were previously too lost in thought about an over dramatic, middle-age crone with a permanent frown as your teacher- may as well imagine Lady Tremaine as the instructor of your nightmares.
When you turned, ready to apologize you nervously chuckled as you saw the handsome red haired man sat beside you with a Puma bag beside him. Wearing gym shorts and a jacket matching his duffel with worn out shoes, he pushed his hair out of the way of his sweat band around his head. He smiled, waving at you.
“First year, huh?” He asked gleefully as you just nodded before clearing your throat.
“Oh, yeah. I just enrolled. I feel a bit awkward since I’m older than the other freshman by a couple years. Guess that's what I get for taking a couple years after highschool though, huh?” You joked back to the stranger as he sat and crossed his legs beside you. He nodded, closing his eyes in a face of understanding.
“Makes since though. This school isn’t cheap, for sure.” With another nod, he opened eyes when he grinned widely again at you. “Don’t worry about it,” he told you with a shoulder pat. “You look young anyways. You’ll fit right in. We twenty-somethings’ need to stick together, huh?” He asked as you looked at him with a small sparkle in your eyes.
“You’re in your twenties?” You gasped lightly. “Oh, jeez that was rude. Sorry,” you awkwardly brush off as you mentally screech into the void. Thankfully, he just laughed at you- but seemed blissfully unoffended.
“I’m definitely in my twenties,” he confirmed. He looked at the watch on his wrist as he silently opened his mouth into an ‘o’ as he started to uncross his legs to stand. He patted your back again. “Thanks for the chat, I’m a lot less anxious now,” he told you as he started moving away. You looked back to your lap and let out a breath. You smiled. If anything- he was the one who worked your anxiety away.
Your attention was grabbed when the studio door was shut and someone clapped from the front of the studio by the wall full of mirrors. Repeated students from previous years were soon sitting down and the freshmen were all sitting rigid- just as you were in your corner.
At the front of the class was the same guy who was just talking to you. Setting his duffel from his shoulder to his feet by the mirror wall on the floor. He turned and placed his hands on his hips as he looked around the room of 20 something students. Some familiar, some not. He just smiled at them all as a group.
“I sure hope this is everyone,” he started speaking when the small murmuring of others died down to focus on him. “I don’t take well to students being late, so make sure to remember that. If you’re not here on time, I’m locking that door and you’re not getting in.” He addressed, pointing to the studio door that was firmly shut. “On with formalities then,” he clapped again as he moved to start pacing back and forth along the mirrors. “As of today, some of you had never seen me before. Why? Well, because you're new of course.” He stopped in his paces before he turned to face the class sitting on the wooden floor. “I’m Jung Hoseok, and I’m this studio’s choreography instructor. Feel free to address me casually if you’d like.”
You nearly threw your head against the wall you leaned back against. You were just chatting it up and talking about age with your teacher?! He was one of very few people who really didn’t need to know your age. Not to mention, the passing thought of thinking he was an attractive man suddenly felt taboo. You’ve heard of teachers and student’s hooking up, but only in stories!
However, by the time the class ended many things were apparent to you. One, this class wasn’t going to have a shortage of difficulty. Hoseok ran through the curriculum and all the points and class topics he wanted to hit and practice through the semesters.
Two, you’d definitely need to start opening up to your classmates for group and duo projects or else you wouldn’t get very far into your college career.
Lastly three, the way Hoseok acted and carried himself like another goofy highschooler who loved dancing more than a fish loves water made him undeniably attractive and maybe- just maybe- your hopeless romantic heart thudded under your hoodie.
It was a week into your college course that you were already feeling tired from all the running back and forth between physical classes and sit down classes. You felt like your legs were screaming, but eventually you knew you’d get used to it.
You were walking as you packed your books into your bag. One thing that Hoseok made clear wasn’t a joke on the first day was his ‘locking the door if you’re late’ rule. He ended up locking 3 students out of the studio on the second day and you made sure that if it was getting close to his classes start time, you were running and weaving past students in the halls and outside in the quad. Rules be damned.
You had just stepped out of the bathroom where you had locked yourself inside a stall to change into your sweats and tee from your jean shorts and sweater when you bumped into your aforementioned handsome dance instructor.
Too busy trying to pry your water bottle out of your duffel mixed with trying to shove your wadded up clothes back into the same duffel and juggling your other class’ bag with books on your shoulder all met in the demise of your shoulder at your rammed into Hoseok’s.
Your metal thermos hit the title in the most unmelodic sound known to man as you jolt and screech in a semi-panic all in an attempt to catch it. Before you could shove your duffel behind you with your sweater hanging half out to reach for your fallen drink in it’s metal prison, Hoseok was already bent at the knees and picking it up instead.
You took the chance to shove your stupid clothes into your duffel completely and zip it when Hoseok was ready to had you your thermos. All while he just stifled a chuckle you could see building in his cheeks.
“In a rush?” He teased, knowing full well his class started in under ten minutes. You bit back the sarcastic reply on your tongue, reminding yourself that this was your teacher- not just another student you could afford to smart off to.
“Well, I don’t want to be locked out, so,” you shrugged, unsure if your tone made you seem snippy. Hopefully not.
“The day I have to lock you out of the studio for being late, maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll let it slide.” He teased as he placed your thermos into your palm. “Let’s go if you’re heading that way.”
“You’re walking with me?”
“I don’t see why not,” he shrugged. “I’m going to the same place and besides, I did say that we twenty-somethings need to stick together,” he joked in a lop-sided smile that pushed up one of his cheeks.
“I wish you’d forget that I ever mentioned my age to you at all,” you groaned as he started walking and you tailed behind him until he slowed his pace to walk beside you. You rushed into the studio in front of him to make sure you made it before him as you rushed to your designated corner before anyone could notice you walked with Hoseok to his class. Properly tying your shoes, you rotated the ball of your worn dance shoes, listening to them squeak as they tried to grip the floors the best they could.
You really needed a new pair soon. Your new job’s first paycheck will be used more for bills then it seemed, a new pair of shoes seemed to be in your future. As Hoseok started class and got everyone to their feet to work through some simple steps to get warmed up for a proper assignment on the horizon, you could help but once again admire his shift from friendly, giggly Hoseok who teased you in the hall to the strict and passionate dance instructor.
“Y/n, could you run the register for just a couple more minutes? Laura is running late, but she said she’s just around the corner stuck in that traffic jam.” Your boss begged as you were about to clock out from your third day on the job. It wasn’t too hard to learn the ropes since you knew how to work registers as well as you could recite the alphabet. You just smiled, trying to wipe the crease out of her brows. She was clearly hoping you wouldn’t say no.
“I don’t mind,” you told her, her shoulder slackening. “I know the traffic sucks today. I can hang around a bit longer. I don’t have anything else to do tonight anyways.” With a promise to pay you for your overtime from your boss, you re-tied the apron around your waist and rushed back to the front where you joined the floundering staff already there. “What can I help with?” You asked them as they rang up someone.
“Just get me away from this thing,” they half whined in a weak laugh as you stepped up and began taking orders like you were programmed to do. Working through customer after customer, you soon saw Laura rushing into the coffee shop when the bell above the door jingled. She ran to you behind the counter. Apologize for being late, you assure her to take her time and not to worry too much about it.
You finally clocked out when you snagged a muffin from the display and made your way out around the counter. Your boss spoke to you for a moment across the display of pastries as Laura was already hard at work until closing hours. You bit into your muffin as you heard someone call you. Thinking it was a co-worker from the familiar ring it had, you turned immediately only to be met with none other than Hoseok.
He came jogging up to you, a coffee in his hand.
“Oh, Instructor Jung,” you greeted in shock. He cringed as you addressed him so formally. Almost everyone in your class had already reverted to calling him by name as he so kindly requested. You were one of the very few stragglers who still addressed him so formally.
“Instructor Jung? Really? That makes me sound like some old man who hates people,” he shivered. “Just call me by name,” he told you. Your boss tapped your shoulder, asking who this stranger with the round cute cheeks and healthy red hair was. He took a sip of his coffee through the straw of his to-go cup. He reached his hand across the counter-top to your boss once he swallowed the caffeine. “Jung Hoseok,” he introduced. “I actually teach Y/n’s dance choreography class in her major.”
“Well, what a lucky girl she is,” your boss teased you with flickering eyebrows that rose and fell in quick motions. Your face bloomed as you wanted to throw the remains of your muffin at her. You were never so thankful you had so much self-restraint. “I’ll see her tapping her feet or shuffling around in the back during her break, it’s pretty adorable.” Okay, maybe less self-restraint if she kept going.
You cleared your throat, face hot as you were determined to escape. “If you’re done teasing me, I’m going home now.”
“But of course,” your boss mused. “I’ll see you back in a couple days sweetheart,” she waved as she went back to her bossly duties of bosshood.
“It was good seeing you-”
“You're heading home, yeah? I’ll drive you,” Hoseok offered before you could properly attempt to depart.
“What?” You asked in shock, nearly dropping the same muffin you wanted to throw just moments ago. “Drive me? Oh, you don’t need to. I’ll just take the bus.”
“Nonsense,” he told you, stepping beside you and nudging you with a friendly smile. “It’s cheaper this way.” That was true. The word ‘cheaper’ was your favorite among the thousands in the words as a struggling college newby. Ultimately, you ended up in the passenger seat of Hoseok’s jeep as he pulled off the curb and into the awful traffic that had previously made Laura so late to her shift. “So, you dance at work huh?” He asked, his eyes set on the road as his fingers tapped at his steering wheel.
“Oh god, please forget you ever heard her say that.”
Hoseok broke into squawks of laughter that pulled at your own lips and the tension you had built up crumbled as you began to just talk. You had even forgotten he was your instructor as you spoke to him like you were talking to a friend. It wasn't until he was pulling up in front of your apartment building when that reality came back.
“Get some rest tonight,” Hoseok told you before you stepped out of the jeep. “I’m gonna assign drills and dance routines tomorrow in class.” You blinked as you looked at him confused.
“Why tell me this? Wouldn’t it have been better to wait to tell me with the rest of the class?” You asked as Hoseok just laughed lightly back to you, nudging your thigh as you started climbing out of the jeep.
“Have a good evening, Y/n,” he told you, totally disregarding your previous questions, leaving you ever more confused. You just nodded at him, now pursuing the topic any longer than you wanted to. He watched to make sure you got up the set of outside stairs and unlocked your door before disappearing inside before he drove off.
Just as he had told you, the next day he was assigning certain groups of students different routines or tasks to practice. Over the course of the next week you’d be free to practice your assignment given to you before delivering it to Hoseok. The concept of him not particularly instructing this project was to gauge the level of self-teaching. He would supervise and give advice and tips if asked, but he would not be out right teaching just yet.
You were among the group of people given a small little number running just shy of two minutes. Focusing more on footwork and precision rather than graceful nimbleness. A faster paced routine was something you felt wasn’t your strongest set of skills, but you enjoyed the feeling of learning nonetheless.
You often spent your afternoons you didn’t have to work in the studio, or inside the practice rooms off the studio practicing. You had opened up to a few other students given the same routine and gotten their advice as you had given yours in return. Hoseok had already told you a few times things you needed to keep in mind while practicing.
This particular night, two weeks into the curriculum you had stayed just a bit too long practicing you had completely lost track of time. In fact, you would've even stopped to notice the empty rooms and the darkening skies outside if it weren’t for the knocking at the practice room’s door.
You had locked yourself inside one of the private, off studio’s to listen to the track assigned with your routine. Getting a feel for the beat and tapping to it for a rhythm balance over and over again made you lose track of time absolutely. When there was a knock you just barely managed to hear over a small dip in the music track, you looked through the room door’s window to see Hoseok waving at you to come out.
Discarding your headphones, you got up and unlocked the door. Opening it to see your instructor dressed not in his sweats and hoodies for practice, but in jeans and a tee- ready to go home for the day. He looked unfairly well dressed in casual wear.
His brow was dipped as he glanced outside just before he looked back to you in your lamp lit small room. He could hear the faint hums of your music from your headphones you left on the floor behind you.
“Why are you still here, Y/n?” He asked. You blinked at him as if he was asking some asinine question. “Classes ended hours ago and that storm in the forecast is about to hit. You should get home,” he told you. You opened your eyes as you looked over his shoulder outside the window of the main studio.
Indeed the skies were dark and sprinkled with raindrops of the future downpour. How long had you been absorbed in your music? You ran back to your headphones and phone along with your bag and duffel as Hoseok moved to the front of the studio to wait at the door, but with a jiggle of the studio’s door, his face drained of color.
A jiggle was worrisome, two was just as worrisome and three was completely worrisome with a tablespoon of panic. The door was jammed, the knob not turning and the door not budging even when Hoseok yanking or shoving on it.
You had shut off the light in the private room, walking out into the lit studio where Hoseok was fiddling with the door. You could hear the metal of the doorknob rattling under his palm echo in the empty dance room as you got to his side. You already feared what he was going to say when he turned to you with a tense expression.
“Don’t tell me,” you spoke with a fallen face as he just let go of the doorknob. All routes of escape leading to utter failure. Hoseok quickly cleared his throat as he looked around the empty room.
“Don’t worry about it,” he spoke, his voice echoing in the large emptiness. “Someone will make their rounds in the morning and get us out. I have some granola bars in my bag we can eat and extra water bottles in my duffel. We just have to tough it out for one night.”
He tried making light of the situation to ease your tense shoulders. He could understand though. You were busy and lost track of time only to be told to leave by your teacher before some nasty weather hits. Only to be now stuck in that same room he told you to leave with him. You probably wanted to go home, take a bath and sleep in your bed. But, now you were forced to stick around in the studio until morning instead. Talk about an impromptu and unwanted sleepover.
However, it wasn’t the fact you had to stay in the studio that night that made you nervous. It shockingly, it wasn’t fact you’d be sharing the space with your more than handsome dance teacher either. It was the small rumbling you heard outside that made you anxious.
The first ten minutes of your small sit down with Hoseok was rigid and uncomfortable for both parties. You were nervous as you picked at your shirt’s loose threads and Hoseok was nervous because he felt like he was making you nervous. The endless cycle of nerves was suffocating.
“Sorry for the door,” Hoseok broke the nearly nauseating silence as he scratched behind his neck. “I didn’t think it’d be busted. Someone must have slammed it shut and jammed it or something.”
“It’s fine,” was your curt answer.
Hoseok looked into the mirrors, watching your reflection- too afraid of freaking you out if he actually looked at you. He cleared his throat. “So, uh- how’s your routine coming?” He tried again. Maybe a different topic will result in different results.
“It’s coming,” you shrugged. “Clearly I’m focusing on it too much,” you told him, motioning to the current situation.
“At least you don’t work today, right?” Hoseok tried lifting the spirits in the room with a smile. You cracked a smile back to him finally.
“That’s-”
The sky shook with thunder, interrupting your voice as Hoseok looked outside the window. The rain had begun as it pelted against the windows. You could hear the wind blow through the roof and along the window outside as it pushed the rain at an angle. The instructor whistled.
“That’s some nasty weather,” he muttered. When you didn’t respond in agreement, he looked back to you. He sat straighter when he saw you covering your ears with your palms. “Y/n?” He called as you seemed to remember where you were as you lowered your hands immediately and placed them back on your lap. You crossed your legs, bouncing one of them as the rain continued to hit the building and window and the thunder continued to roll.
It was impossible for Hoseok not to see how jittery the weather got you. He slowly scooched closer to your side after reaching for the previous mentioned granola snack he had with him. He offers it to you, hoping to ease you. You accept it, taking anything to keep your mind off the weather blaring outside like sirens in your head.
“Not a storm lover, eh?” He asked, but as lightly as he could. He asked in the same way someone would cover a child with a satin blanket. It was soft and comforting the way he spoke. You shook your head as you bit into the grainy snack. “I don’t mind them so much, but I guess some people really can’t stand storms.”
“‘Can’t help it,” you mumbled after you swallowed a bite. “I’ve been scared of them since I was little and just never outgrew it.”
Hoseok was soon rubbing your back as he sat next to you. You jumped every time thunder sounded and closed your eyes with a small yelp each time you caught a glimpse of lightning. Luckily enough the storm didn’t have nearly the strength to blow out the power, so he wouldn’t need to comfort you in a black out at the very least.
He was sitting beside you for nearly half an hour before he finally thought of something to keep your mind off the storm.
“Y/n, dance with me,” he pitched into the empty room as he continued to rub your back. You shot your head up to look at him, cheeks hot and mouth open in a small ‘huh?’. He just chuckled. “We’re stuck in here anyways, so let’s dance to pass the time!” He told you he was already spinning to his feet before he grabbed your hands and started pulling you up and out of your cross-legged position.
“You can’t be serious!” You squealed as he got you standing. He ran over to the stereo system and hooked his phone up to it before setting a playlist. Soon, music started pulsing through the speakers as you felt the vibrations of the bass through the floor into your bare feet after long abandoning your shoes and socks.
He danced back to you as he grabbed your hands and started dragging you around as he laughed. “Come on! It’ll be fun!” Pretty soon, he was twirling you around every which way he could before he actually started to properly dance. You were reverting back to your dance brain as you started properly doing footwork and taking correct stances.
What started as goofing off to keep your mind off the storm turned into a private study with Hoseok watching your practice the very dance that kept you here in the first place this evening. He had turned on the song assigned to you and the small group of people who were assigned the same thing as it looped over and over again.
Drill after drill with different steps of advice and stance correction was more fun with Hoseok than you thought possible. He would push on your back to fix your stance or twist your calf when you stepped so you wouldn’t trip. He showed you how to dance certain parts as you mirrored him.
You both watched the reflections of yourselves dancing the same quick footwork number side by side over and over again. And each new drill came with bigger smiles and louder laughing. You had actually forgotten about the storm outside over the sound of the music and Hoseok’s laughter.
The storm had subsided well after midnight and you finally fell to the floor, ready for something close to a hardwood nap at nearly three am. Hoseok fell next to you, still in a fit of giggles as you just breathed heavily.
“I don't know if I’ve danced that much ever,” you panted as Hoseok rolled from his back to his stomach to look at you on your back staring at the ceiling. He rested his chin over his crossed arms on the floor as he looked at the side of your face. He finally looked at him, feeling his stares and flinched when you looked into his eyes. You couldn't bring yourself to look away now. “Hoseok?”
He smiled unconsciously bright at your casual calling. “You sound pretty saying my name,” he told you, making your face flush. “You looked even prettier when you blush too,” he teased, kicking his feet up behind him like a five-year-old. You turned your head away from him finally as you looked back to the ceiling, not able to hide your red cheeks as he just kept admiring them. “Hey, Y/n?” He called to which you just hummed, not trusting your voice. “Wanna go get some coffee in the morning with me?”
You whipped your head back to look at him, seeing his smug smile on his head due to your deepening flushed skin. You felt like you were on the brink of sweating, you were so flushed.
“I- uh, huh?”
“When we get freed from the practice room, let’s get coffee. I’ll cancel class so we can. I don’t want to have class after being locked in here all night anyway.”
“I work in the afternoon though,” you lamely told him. He just smiled away, unable to bring himself to feel upset about anything.
“Then I’ll drop you off before work and then pick you up to take you home when you're done.”
“That sounds like you’re trying to flirt with me.”
“Y/n, I’m asking you on a date. Of course I’m flirting.” He deadpanned with a smirk as you shot up from laying down to sitting up. You looked down at him laying on his stomach, that small smirk still painted on his lips as you turned away from him.
“Well, I guess if you’re asking me,” you muttered. “I suppose I could go for some coffee,” you finished. Hoseok had to suppress even more chuckles and teases at the sight of your smile he saw in the reflection of the studio’s mirrors when you accepted his offer.
“Well then, I guess you better get to sleep. We’ve got a date in the morning,” he chided as he shot up to his knees and palms, moved closer to just barely get into your line of sight to wink you. He crawled to his bag he used as a pillow as you lay across the room from him doing the same.
How could you possibly get to sleep now? It didn’t matter, you reasoned; as you’d have coffee later to wake you up.
~END~
#promptwistbidx#btsboulangerie#btsbookclub#btswriterscollective#jung hoseok#hoseok fic#hoseok fanfic#hoseok fanfiction#jhope fic#jhope fanfic#jhope fanfiction#hoseok fluff#college au#teacher!hoseok#dance teacher!hoseok#student reader#hoseok x reader#jhope x reader#x reader#reader insert#female reader#jhope fluff#hoseok oneshot
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Prompt Twist Library!
Hello! Admin Anna here!
I’m happy to announce that BANGTAN-IDX has just concluded our first ever event!
If you need one, here’s a refresher on our event:
Every writer knows the feeling: there’s a plot you’ve crafted which you’d adore writing, but you just can’t find the muse, time, etc. Now's the time to see that plot come to life! If you choose to participate, you’ll provide two unwritten prompts along with what genres/ships/etc. you’re comfortable writing. Once applications are closed, in a week's time, all participants will receive another participant’s prompt and will have one month to craft it. The catch? The participant who receives the plot will know who the plot belongs to, but the owner of the plot will not know who their plot went to. After our event closes, all members will have the opportunity to gift the owner of the prompt their story!
TLDR; Every writer who participated wrote an unused plot of another writer!
OUR LIBRARY!
Lu @moononthejoon wrote Aditi’s @ditttiii‘s prompt
Taehyung is the new hot doctor, who has recently moved across the hallway from yours. Once he finds out about your interesting little nickname for him, you want nothing more but to avoid him at all costs. What happens when he gets fed up with the shifting glances and whispers?
Read it here!
Jackie @pjmsgalaxy wrote Kato’s @katobobato’s prompt
You and Taehyung had been roommates for no longer than a month and the two of you had barely spoken. He was quiet, never had friends over and just sat in his room reading all day every day. In a desperate attempt to get to know your roommate, you went to his room and asked him if he wanted to watch a movie. He only shook his head and told you he was okay with his book, and so you asked him to read it to you.
Read it here!
Tay @kpopisthereasonihavenolife wrote Jackie’s @pjmsgalaxy‘s prompt
Moving to Seoul, South Korea had been a dream of yours and when you found out that you got accepted at one of the best universities, you couldn’t be happier, that is until you met your dance teacher. He was handsome but strict and he made you fall for him hard. You never thought he would feel the same until you got locked up one rainy night. | Hoseok x Reader
Read it here!
Dani @minloop wrote Mimi’s @namluve’s prompt
The house down the end of your road is still abandoned and starting to waste away. But when home life becomes suffocating, the empty house is your escape. Until the spot you always sit at suddenly is plagued by a new engraving which has you wondering if the house was actually ever abandoned. You begin a conversation etched into the wooden floor until an. "I've been dying for someone to walk through that door, and aren't I lucky it's a pretty thing like you to keep me entertained." catches you by surprise.
Read it here!
Kato @katobobato wrote Dani’s @minloop’s prompt
You've had a crush on shy boy Jeongguk since you briefly spoke to him in your intro to film class freshman year, too bad you're just as shy as him. One day Jeongguk catches you in a compromising position at a party and asks you to be his wingman.
Read it here!
Aditi wrote Megan’s prompt
In the middle of the night, you hear strange sounds. You go to investigate, only to find a man rummaging through your fridge. At the same time, you both say, "What are you doing in my house?" It turns out that the man lived in your house decades ago. But how did he get here?
Read it here!
Mimi @namluve wrote Tay’s @kpopisthereasonihavenolife‘s prompt
Winter has always got a bad rap, but it’s your favorite season. You’re determined to show the world through photography that winter isn’t all that bad. The snow, the lakes, the views, and the mountains all make the cold worth it. Even more so, the mysterious barefooted man you find in the forest may be the best part of winter so far. | Yoongi x Reader
(Contacting writer)
Megan wrote Lu’s prompt
Your boyfriend Hoseok is terrified of everything that has to do with the supernatural (ghosts, demons, the usual). You think that it's all make believe, so you decide to go ghost hunting. Hoseok is less than excited, but he would not forgive himself if anything happened to you.
(Contacting writer)
Look at this beautiful bookshelf! We’re so glad a prompt exchange lets stories live on through the muse of different writers. We’re so happy that our first event was as successful as it was! We bet you’ll enjoy these stories as much as our writers loved crafting them.
Want to join us? Check out our application post for more information and feel free to reach out to Admin Anna @knjoodles and Admin Alys @joonsrack!
Bisous!
Anna and Alys, B-IDX’s Admin Team.
#kpop#bts#bts reactions#bts fluff#bts angst#bts smut#kpop icons#kpop masterlist#namjoon#seokjin#yoongi#hoseok#jimin#taehyung#jungkook#promptwistbidx
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Prompt Twist: B-IDX’s First Event!
Hi, kiddos! Admin Anna here. Welcome to BangtanIDX’s first-ever event!
We asked, and our members responded. Due to an overwhelming landslide, our first event will be a bonding event so you may get to know your members as well as see your stories come to life. Essentially, those who participate will provide a prompt but will also write someone else’s prompt!
Not a member but want to join? See our application post here.
Sounds interesting? Please look under the cut. Queue drumroll!
This event is not safe for Ramadan. Stay safe, lovelies!
Welcome to Plot Twist. Every writer knows the feeling: there’s a plot you’ve crafted which you’d adore writing, but you just can’t find the muse, time, etc. Now's the time to see that plot come to life!
If you choose to participate, you’ll provide two unwritten prompts along with what genres/ships/etc. you’re comfortable writing. Once applications are closed, in a week's time, all participants will receive another participant’s prompt and will have one month to craft it.
The catch? The participant who receives the plot will know who the plot belongs to, but the owner of the plot will not know who their plot went to. After our event closes, all members will have the opportunity to gift the owner of the prompt their story!
rules
must be a BangtanIDX member
reblog this post
fill out this application
tag your post with #promptwistbidx
please only tag your writing for this event with this tag.
schedule
May 5th — Announcements
May 12th — Applications closed
May 16th — Prompts assigned
May 19th — Prompts finalized
in case you are unhappy with your assigned prompt, you’ll receive a new one by this time that fits suitably.
June 19th — Event closes
June 20th — Prompt party!
important things to note
We're glad you’re interested! Let’s talk about two things. One, how much you can write with the prompt, and two, how to format your own prompt.
HOW MUCH YOU CAN WRITE
Unless it’s specified in the prompt, your word count is completely up to you! The minimum word count is 1k, and you MUST write a oneshot.
Furthermore, here’s why we’re restricting drabbles and series. Slow burn is a must for series, and the owner of the prompt may not see their prompt come to life in one chapter. As for drabbles, they move very quickly and could prevent writing in great detail or to the extent you’d like.
HOW TO FORMAT YOUR PROMPT
We ask you to be specific, so you can see your prompt play out the way you intend it to! Exactly how much detail you’d like can bend at your discretion, but make sure to give your mystery writer a little bit of leeway so they, too, can add a personal touch. Your prompt may not be one for a series. It may only be a prompt for a oneshot. Oh, and the code word for the application is agust.
Example of what you SHOULDN'T do:
“Enemies to lovers. Y/N sees Taehyung on accident. School AU / smut/fluff / x Reader”
The problems here:
No one can tell exactly how the story will go. Why are they enemies? What did Y/N see?
School AU is not specific. Are they in high school? College?
Example of what you SHOULD do:
“Your new neighbor Taehyung is so annoyingly loud every morning that you want to smash your window open, but that all changes when you accidentally see him naked. Now, you want him to smash you. College AU / smut/fluff / x Reader”
The problems here:
None. Perfect!
If you have any questions, do not hesitate to reach out to admins Anna, Alys, and Nina, either on Tumblr but more preferably Discord. (members should have our Discord @s)
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