knjhubba

[knjhubba]

© 슈메이션

[knjhubba]

a soft boyfriend pt. 3

[knjhubba]

mint jungkook, i miss you!

[knjhubba]

⌞we are bulletproof - the eternal (outro) | rap line

[cr. namuspromised]

vocal line version

[knjhubba]

유소년단

BTS

[knjhubba]

HOBI REQUESTS YAY! okay so at first i was thinking it might be hobi's birthday and he stays late at the studio regardless of the day and comes home to reader all tired and drained, but then reader has such a sweet surprise for him when he gets there (whether it be a cake, flowers, balloons, etc.) and it just seems like he can breathe again without the weight of his work on his chest, even if it's just for that night, he can fall asleep with no problem.

OR, considering it's in the name of jess' birthday, it could be reversed? reader's birthday and hobi has the sweet surprise instead? i don't have an idea of what specifically would be demanding so much of reader's attention, but coming home to hobi with his pretty smile on such a day seems like something so beautiful.

that's all i could muster up as of now, 🙃 if you chose to, feel free to play around with it until it's something you are comfortable with! <3

thank you so much for the request! i went with the first one and i hope you enjoy it! <3

(side note: i banged this out in one sitting so i'm tentatively optimistic that my writer's block is cured. we'll see. thank you all for your patience and not showing up in my ask box with pitchforks.)

ataraxia

pairing: hoseok x reader genre: est. relationship au; fluff, a tiny bit of angst warnings: hobi's kind of going through it so there are allusions to poor mental health, otherwise this is mostly fluff. just being there for your person when they're having a tough time. no gendered pronouns used. unedited. rating: e for everyone wordcount: 1k listen to: novo amor - anchor

Hoseok had heard once that babies born in the winter are stronger.

Something about mothers being able to absorb more vitamin D during the summer months.

As he collapses onto the floor of his studio, sweat and exhaustion blurring his vision, he thinks those people are full of shit. What has being born in winter gotten him besides muscle cramps and seasonal depression? Because he’s also at a higher risk for that, which those people lauding his athleticism tend to leave off of the discussion.

He sighs. He’s twenty-nine now, and there’s something truly haunting about the inevitability of time. Can’t slow it down, can’t make it go faster; he just has to sit here and take it. Next year he’ll be thirty, thirty-one the year after that, and on and on it’ll go for the rest of his life.

All he has are these little joys: the squeak of his new sneakers on the studio floor, the kids in his class finally nailing their routine, those peach iced teas he likes being buy one get one free this week at the convenience store next door. He has you, too, but you were smart and traded in your two-cent dreams for the corporate world and now you’re spending his birthday on a business trip to Singapore.

Yoongi would call him an asshole for that, probably. He has friends. Friends who want to see him, buy him a drink and give him gifts, and he appreciates the effort, he does, he’s just… tired. Fatigue has seeped into all of his bones and left him nothing more than a husk of a person. It’s been months of this same unending grind, and he’s running out of self to give.

At least Singapore is warm this time of year. In Seoul, beyond the frosted windows of his studio, there’s nothing but gray-brown slush and a patch of black ice he can’t melt no matter how much he salts it.

“Fuck this,” he mutters.

It’s nearing nine o’clock. He needs to get home; needs to eat something and drag himself into a hot shower before he crawls into bed and spends the entire weekend there. Needs to reply to all the texts on his phone wishing him a happy birthday. Needs to tactfully and politely turn down all the invitations. Needs to post some bubbly, colorful message on social media thanking everyone for the well-wishes and attach a photo from a few weeks ago because he hasn’t been smiling much lately.

First, though, he needs to get off the floor.

He usually likes his walk home. Likes pressing his face to the glass to look at all the window displays when he’s not in the mood to shop. Likes seeing other people go about their days, live their lives. Likes looking at all the ways the city reflects sunlight and fades to husky gold. Likes walking under the cherry blossoms in the spring; likes it even more when a few petals stick to his shoulders and you laugh and brush them off as soon as he comes through the door.

It’s hard to get off the floor when none of that is out there.

But he does it anyway, because maybe he has a bit of that winter strength. He packs up his stuff and sits at the bus stop, counts his exhales as they materialize in front of him, thankful for the heavy coat you’d bought for him a few years ago, now well-worn and no longer itchy. He sits at the back by himself and sends half-assed replies to all of those texts. Scrolls back to stare at the photo you’d sent him this morning—fresh from sleep and barefaced, lips pursed together in a kiss, thumb and pointer fingers together in a heart.

Slush sticks to his shoes as he ducks inside the building. Nearly trips climbing up the stairs, because the two of you live on the fourth floor and it feels too lazy to take the elevator, even when his muscles are screaming from a long day at the dance studio. But it keeps him moving. Keeps him upright and functional when all he wants to do is rot away.

His shoes are dry by the time he reaches the door, soaked into the carpet lining the hallway. His hands still bear the cold—red and unsteady, it takes him a few tries to punch in the code. Gets it wrong twice, and he takes a second to just… stand there, head resting against the door, feeling the weight of the world come down on him.

He’s not sure what he thought twenty-nine would be like, but surely it wasn’t this.

And maybe if he wasn’t feeling so low, he would’ve noticed. Your keys in the bowl by the door, your shoes in the rack. The light on in the kitchen. The smell of the miyeokguk simmering on the stove. The sound of your footsteps as you meet him where he stands, shoulders slumped, eyes brimming with tears and exhaustion.

“Hob-ah?”

There are hands on his face. Soft, he thinks. They’re touching him so softly, treating him just as delicately as he feels. He leans into it; recognizes the perfume stuck to the wrist. Knows it smells like home and an aching he can never seem to put a name to, and you don’t hesitate to wrap him tightly in your arms.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he says, words waterlogged and hesitant as he speaks them into the crook of your neck. Nothing feels real, and he doesn’t trust himself to open his eyes.

You tangle your hands in his hair. Scratch lightly against his scalp. “I got an early flight home. Got back this afternoon.” This is where someone else would ask if he’s okay, try to pry apart his ribcage and look at all the ugly parts, but you don’t. There’s just a small intake of breath and the reluctance to let him go. “The miyeokguk is almost ready,” you say instead. “Do you want to take a shower while I get everything ready?”

Hoseok is reluctant to let go, too, but he’s at his best when he has a task. Needs something to accomplish, something to check off on his imaginary to-do list, so he nods. Pulls away and immediately misses your warmth. Takes your face in his hands and presses a kiss to your forehead. Thank you, it says. I needed you here.

You already know, though. You always do.

[knjhubba]

BTS

[knjhubba]

i love to see how he talks about things he loves [475 days before yoongi is back] v.cr.:dwellingsouls

[knjhubba]

pretty ♡ cr. jung-koook

[knjhubba]

purple never looked so good 💜

cr. namuspromised

[knjhubba]

love.

[knjhubba]

Hopelessly Romantic

summary - You used to say that a little romanticising never hurt anyone, turns out you were wrong. So wrong. (Unless…?)

pairing - Hoseok x reader

genre - university!au, fluff, a little angst, crushing & pining <3

word count - 7.4k

warnings - swearing :o, y/n goes through serious introspection, y/n goes through it

Keep reading

#fav

[knjhubba]

Hopelessly Romantic

summary - You used to say that a little romanticising never hurt anyone, turns out you were wrong. So wrong. (Unless…?)

pairing - Hoseok x reader

genre - university!au, fluff, a little angst, crushing & pining <3

word count - 7.4k

warnings - swearing :o, y/n goes through serious introspection, y/n goes through it

Keep reading

[knjhubba]

Puppy Love - Moodboard • Jhope x gn!reader

[knjhubba]

j-hope ♡ Airplane | Making film cr. namuspromised

[knjhubba]

𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓵𝓵 𝓫𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓽𝓸 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀

♡ pairing: hobi x reader (best friends/idiots to lovers) ♡ rating: G ♡ genre: fluff, crack ♡ au: diner ♡ tw: n/a ♡ wc: ~0.7k ♡ track: Cruel Summer ~ Taylor Swift: “And I snuck in through the garden gate every night that summer just to seal my fate, and I scream, ‘For whatever it’s worth, I love you, ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?’”

♡ summary: It was tradition that each weekend during the summer you and Hobi would go get milkshakes from the local diner to organize your schedules for the upcoming week. It was not tradition for you to kiss him (but you really really wanted it to be).

♡ an: this is such a stupid story XD special thanks to a friend of mine on discord for filling this one out for me lmao here's to you Tempt!! hope you guys enjoy! also happy late birthday to our dear j-hope (and me, we're birthday twins)!!! 14 Valen-tans Days masterlist ♡♡ main masterlist

"You two want the usual?" Seohyeon asked with a smile as you and your best friend, Hobi, walked into the diner. It was your weekly meet-up to synchronize your schedules in your matching bullet journals.

You smiled at the waitress. "Yes please!" She nodded and yelled your usual order back into the kitchen. You and Hobi took your seats in your usual booth, three back from the entrance, Hobi sitting across from you. This had been your Saturday afternoon since your parents were first fine letting you go out on your own.

Hobi had been your best friend since before you could remember. Your parents were friends with his parents, and you lived across the street from each other. You had spent countless playdates and after-school study sessions together. Hobi was even your first date when a bunch of losers made fun of you a few years ago.

You had a giant fucking crush on him and somehow this guy was clueless.

Seohyeon dropped off your large plate of fries that you share together and one strawberry milkshake for Hobi and one vanilla milkshake for you. Hobi took out his journal and pencil case while you shook the ketchup bottle and poured out the condiment.

"You've got your dance competition next weekend, right?" you asked him, pulling your own journal and pens out.

"Yeah, on Sunday," Hobi responded, munching on a fry. "So most of this week is all rehearsal." You nodded, making a note on your page. "Don't you have that volunteer trip middle of next week?"

"Wednesday," you confirmed. You took a sip of your milkshake, relishing in the cold flavor and letting it distract you from your feelings. (It didn't. You just watched him take a large sip from his strawberry milkshake and it made you really want to share it with him.)

Suddenly, an incredibly stupid but slightly genius idea. "Wanna hear something crazy?" You asked Hobi, choosing to doodle sunflowers around the edge of your journal instead of looking at him.

"Sure."

"Jin asked me this week when you and I were gonna go on a date." You felt your face heat up promptly at the lie. You put extra care into the flower doodle.

"Oh, Jin asked you that?" He didn't sound the least bit surprised.

Why didn't he sound the least bit surprised?

"Uh, yeah," you forced out a laugh and brushed your hair behind your ear. "Crazy, right?"

"Yeah," Hobi laughed with you. "Just as crazy as Namjoon asking me the same thing!"

Your smile dropped. "Wait, really?" Your eyes went wide at the thought. Did Hobi know you were lying? Was he just playing along? Or did Namjoon actually suggest that you two officially date?

"Yeah," Hobi said. He had a look in his eyes, despite his smile he was being serious right now. "I told him that I was down, I was just waiting for you."

You couldn't believe what he just told you. You could only stare at him, jaw dropped. I was just waiting for you. The words echoed around your head as you tried to figure out what to do.

After an indeterminate amount of time (you weren't sure) Hobi finally broke the silence between you two. "I can wait longer," he offered quietly, "or, if you don't want—"

"I've been in love with you for years." You blurted it out like the words were on fire and you needed to get them off of you. "I just didn't think—"

"I didn't think—"

"You liked me back." You and Hobi said simultaneously. You covered your face in an attempt to hide the redness.

"Oh my god, we could've been properly dating this entire time," you said into your palms. Hobi laughed.

"And our friends knew the entire time." You peeked through your fingers to see him shaking his head, a bright smile on his face. Well, if you were going to start actually dating, you should tell him the truth.

"Actually..." you removed your hands from your face to take a deep breath. "Jin never said anything to me. I just made it up on the spot." You tried smiling, but it came out more like a grimace.

Hobi bit his lip, trying to hold laughter back. "Namjoon never talked to me either."

For the millionth time during this conversation, your eyes went wide. Then you and your best friend-now-boyfriend burst into laughter.

tagging: @daydreamer-writing

thanks for reading!!

[knjhubba]

Hi! I’m here for your 2k drabble requests. I’d love to see a drabble of Hobi with the only one bed trope! 💜

behold: my hobi brain rot, lol.

the one with hoseok and the magic fingers

pairing: jung hoseok x gn!reader type: drabble | genre: fluff | wc: 1.3k summary: your company didn’t make the necessary reservations for the trade show you’re being forced to attend. now what? au: co-workers to ? | rating: pg13* | cw: none *regardless, my content is not for minors. minors or ageless blogs who interact with my content will be blocked.

You do not dream of labor. More importantly, you do not want a career; you want to sit on a porch with a stupid little beverage, enjoying a stupid little breeze. Unfortunately, as you know, capitalism. So, when your stupid little job requires you to attend a stupid little conference, you go.

This time, your involuntary non-vacation involves a trade show in Changwon, three (3) days of listening to men with half your experience talking twice as much as you, and one (1) meal voucher per day. In all this overcast, you’d found a single, silver lining: Jung Hoseok, the only person on your team that doesn’t make you want to walk into a forest, never to be seen again.

Now, Hoseok stands at the reception desk, visibly struggling to maintain his customer service voice. Across the counter, the hotel’s overnight manager squints down at her computer. No matter how close her nose gets to the screen, no reservations appear.

“I’m so sorry,” she all but cries. “I’ve checked and re-checked, but there’s nothing here for either of you. Are you sure that your company finalized the reservations? They would’ve needed to confirm them on the new system. They just rolled it out, and it’s —”

She trails off with a displeased wave of her hand and a grimace.

The new system is garbage, perhaps?

Hoseok turns to look at you over his shoulder. He’s grinning in an unsettling way, one that doesn’t meet his eyes. Subtly, he mouths lobotomize me, please, and you have to clench your jaw shut to keep your laughter to yourself. It exits through your nose instead, so forcefully that you have to pretend like you’ve sneezed.

He pretends not to notice.

Charmer that he is, Hoseok places his fingers down against the counter — gently, distinctly non-threatening — and lays it on thick. “Are there really no rooms available? Not even a supply closet with some cots?”

Those sparkling doe eyes should’ve earned him the presidential suite, but they don’t.

“No, sir.” The manager frowns. “But there’s a — umm — establishment two streets over that’s sure to have space. It’s — ehh — quaint?”

For the first time, you peep, “Is that a statement or a question?”

The manager goes beet red.

With a twitch at the corner of his mouth, Hoseok looks at you. As he does, one eyebrow flexes briefly in a way that makes you a little bit flustered. Worse, he winks when he laughs, “There’s your answer, I suppose. Shall we establish ourselves, then?”

———

It took longer than it should’ve to locate the motel in question, and even longer for the pair of you to force yourselves out of Hoseok’s Kia. When you finally slid out of his passenger seat, you turned to grab your suitcase from his trunk— only to find that he’d beaten you to it. He’d ignored the way you frowned, sauntered right by you with your luggage rolling behind him.

“D’you think anyone’s ever died in here?” He’d mused without turning back around.

You hadn’t bothered to smother the laughter bubbling up as a result of his unexpected — yet shockingly on-brand — query. You’d simply followed behind him and stepped through the door he’d held open for you.

Another reception desk, another manager bracing themselves before giving disappointing news, another pointed look exchanged with your co-worker — whose eyes were much prettier than you’d previously realized, in a strictly professional way, and whose slightly disheveled hair had started to fall back over the forehead he’d pushed it away from, and —

“The single is the best I can do.”

You blink slowly, having seemingly blacked out during the first half of the conversation. Unabashed, you cannonball back in: “Huh?”

Hoseok doesn’t have time for this, if the way he grabs the sole key off the counter is any indication. Shoulders sagging, he’s travel-weary and it shows. So, he dangles the key ring off of his index finger and wiggles his brows.

“I won’t snore if you won’t,” he teased.

———

The circumstances don’t truly click until the lock does; door opening wide to reveal the lone double bed at the center of an unimpressive room. The carpet beneath it is a dingy, cotton-candy blue. It’s so shaggy that it flutters with the breeze of the AC unit in the window, which horrifies you. The aforementioned window is sealed around the unit with duct tape and part of a cardboard box — and it’s damp.

“Stale,” you mutter automatically. “This is the motel equivalent of an expired Saeukkang.”

Hoseok’s laugh is musical as he sets your suitcase on the foldable rack near the thick, boxy television. He drops his own onto the ground next to it, though it doesn’t make a sound when it hits the carpet. With his eyes narrowed so completely, it’s difficult to tell if he’s truly perceiving any of the other decorative horrors around you. But he must, because he clicks his tongue, gesturing to the bed.

Eyebrows raised, you follow his pointed finger with your eyes. Immediately, they widen.

You scoff, “Oh, what the fuck?”

Affixed to the left-side nightstand is a small metal box with a bouquet of wires jutting out from the side. They trail down the table leg, along the seam where the wall meets the carpet, and presumably connect to the back of the bed frame. Your gaze zeroes in on the blatant coin slot carved into the box. Instinctively, you shiver.

Hoseok bravely crosses the room to read the tiny label on top of the box. He stares, disbelieving, with his mouth slightly open. Then, he speaks as if reading it out loud will make any part of it make sense.

“Magic fingers?”

———

“Do —?” You pause, pointing between yourself, the bed, and your coworker. “Is this —?”

Said co-worker has apparently decided to ruin your life by packing grey sweatpants in lieu of actual pajamas. Part of you longs for the bygone days of absurd and abjectly sexless sleepwear. Only an Ebenezer Scrooge-style nightgown and cap can save you now.

Bastard.

Hoseok doesn’t answer with words because he seems to sense that they’re lost on you; he just drops down onto one half of the mattress. Then, he has the absolute audacity to beckon you with a curl of his finger. You’re frozen — he senses this, too — so he proceeds to pat the space in front of him.

Well, if he’s normal about this, then why shouldn’t you be?

You suck in a slow, conflicted breath.

Fuck it.

Your pulse handles it well when you close the distance between the corner you’ve banished yourself to and the bed. Unfortunately for you, it takes a flying leap when you sink into the reserved half of the mattress. Not bold enough to face him — or, rather, be nose to nose with him — you lay on your back and blink up at the ceiling. Suddenly, you’re very aware of your limbs, so you clutch your hands to your chest, knowing full well that your mummified posture is ridiculous.

What was that about being normal about this?

A few moments of silence pass. As they do, you know Hoseok’s watching you — can feel him watching you. You can feel the playful tug at the side of your pajama shorts, too.

“Cute,” he murmurs. He’s correct, after all. They’re a dusty pink with a scalloped hem, and they are cute.

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye like a fucking weirdo, just in time for him to look up at your face. He smiles, then pulls his hand away only to stuff it in the pocket of his sweatpants. When it emerges again, he’s holding a coin that had no business being held in his sweatpants, but that he’d clearly stowed away in furtherance of the bit.

Pinched between the pads of his thumb and index finger, he holds it up between you. It catches the light while he looks pointedly from you to that stupid little box on the nightstand.

With a grin that makes you more than a little flustered, he snickers, “Wanna see a magic trick?”