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hobipaint · 4 months

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Peppermint Mocha

synopsis: Wanting to break away from the hubbub of the big city life, you decided to return your quaint, tiny town, seeking solitude. However, you meet Hoseok, who seems way more familiar than he should, and your solitary vacation takes a turn - for the better, or for the worse?

genre: fluff

word count: 4.6k

rating: pg13

a/n: A very happy new year, everyone! And especially to the amazing @the-boy-meets-evil - jess, I was so glad I could be your secret santa this year! carol worked hard on her puns hehe :) i hope you enjoyed my asks and this fic! i'm so sorry for the delay in sending out this gift, but i hope you enjoy the extended holiday spirit :) and for everyone reading, I hope you have an amazing 2024!

written for the @kpopsecretsanta secret santa event! | my masterlist

The holidays always went a little too fast for your liking. You didn’t know when it Christmas had come, shown its colours, and left; it felt like yesterday that you were preparing for Halloween. And yet, the wispy bits of fluffy snow falling from the sky said that it had been long since that time. You could feel the frosty bits of snow crunching under your feet as you trudged out of the airport into the lanes of the town.

In the distance, you could see the festive hubbub that surrounded your town - with officials figuring out logistics for lights and trees, vendors setting up their markets and little kids toying about with the snow: everything was exactly the same as you remembered when you had last been here.

“10 years,” you whispered to yourself, a small smile forming on your lips. “Hello again.”

Your family had once called this town home, back when you and your siblings were young kids. Time had flown away like the little snow flakes did now, and forced you all to move away from your home to build a future of your own. Normally, you would have wanted to be with your friends and family to celebrate the holidays, but something oddly made you want to come back here.

Making sure you had your belongings, you asked around to figure out where your lodge was located, not recognising a lot of the shops that now decorated the streets. Your parents had recommended a lodge they had first stayed in when they came here, one out of two cabins owned by a family friend who had since shifted to New York. They let you rent out one for the holidays, and encouraged you to get acquainted with the stranger who would be renting the other cabin around the same time - “wouldn’t hurt to make a new friend,” they’d said.

A tap on your shoulder broke your reverie. “Y/N?” A voice called behind you, making you turn to face the person in question. Dressed cosily in a green sweater that screamed the holiday spirit with vibrant red hearts and candy canes all over it, it was a man, snowflakes settling in his fluffed up brown hair. He was tall in a way that made you stretch your neck up to look at his big smile, and his eyes had a soft crinkle to them, as if you had just shared a funny anecdote.

“I’m Hoseok,” he mentioned, stretching out a hand. “I figured you’re the other person staying at the Woodson’s cabin, aren’t you?”

You accepted his hand, surprised at the warmth instantly engulfing your frosty fingers. “Yeah, I am. How did you know it was me, though?”

He grinned, tilting his head to look at your heavy bags - as if they were a clear indication. “No one really travels alone with three big bags to this town unless they’re planning a long vacation.”

You smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, I guess that kinda gave it away.” You could feel him staring at you as if trying to figure out what kind of a person his neighbour for the next few days was like.

Hoseok flashed a friendly smile. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Y/N. I’ve got my car here, so if you don’t mind, we can get to the cabin together? Let me help you with those bags." He effortlessly grabbed two of your heavy bags, leaving you with just one.

“Thank you,” you said, following after him and settling into the warmth of his car. Helping him load your luggage on the car, Hoseok immediately ran off inside the car, immediately cranking the heat on. You couldn’t help but laugh as he gestured for you to come in quickly.

“Not a fan of the cold, I presume?” you asked.

“Brrrr,” he shivered, rubbing his palms together and blowing at them. “I love the aesthetics of cold weather, but absolutely hate the feeling of cold.” Starting the car, he slowly drove out of the parking lot, suddenly grinning to himself. “By the way, Y/N? You haven’t asked me for any proof of who I am,” he hesitated, looking over to you cautiously as if to detect any signs of panic.

You froze at his words, realising his perspective: you had just trusted an absolute stranger and gotten in the car. “Should I be worried, though?” You tried to play it off casually.

“I would suggest being worried, and not being relieved until you were sure I was the right person to approach you,” he said, lips pursed and hands tense on the steering wheel. “I could be really dangerous.”

For some reason, that stunned you, and yet, it made you burst out into laughter.

Hoseok looked at you confused. “What?”

Gasping for breath, you could barely stop your laughter enough to calm Hoseok’s concerned face. “Mrs. Woodson is a family friend, Hoseok. She’d already told me about you, and how you’ve been here for a few weeks at the cabin. I did recognise you a few seconds after you spoke to me.” You grinned. “It would have been concerning if I did blindly trust you and get in the car, though.”

Hseok dramatically breathed out, as if a huge tension had been lifted off of his chest. “Well, at least you knew who I was. Imagine if you didn’t know anyone or anything in this town and got all lost? I would feel terrible.”

You settled into your seat, humming in agreement with him. “I do know this town well enough, though. I have lived here for long enough to know these streets, even if they’re more colourful now than then.”

Hoseok smiled. “Ahh, so you lived here too.”

You turned to him in surprise. “You, too?”

He nodded. “I lived here for some years when I was younger. I don’t have very strong memories of this place here - I moved away with my dad after my parents divorced, you see - and came here only sometimes to visit my mom while she still lived here. And when all my family moved from here, I didn’t really have a reason to come back here as much.” He smiled softly. “But then, I just felt like I wanted to be here this year, alone, yes, but in a place I first started enjoying the holidays.”

You hummed in agreement, understanding the sentiment.

He pointed to the houses you were crossing outside, all cheerfully decorated in lights and decor. ‘I used to rank the houses by their decor every year, and then go to the house I ranked first to tell them that they won,” he said, making you both laugh. “I wonder if the owners are still the same people.”

“I would hope so, too,” you said. “‘My family and I had loads of friends we lost touch with. It would be nice to meet some of them.”

The road to the cabin was a long one, you knew, and yet, you weren’t as bothered about travelling a long distance as you thought you would be. Hoseok’s company and your childhood nostalgia got the best of you, keeping the conversation in good spirits as you made your way to the cabin.

As you climbed the steps up to the Woodson's cabin, Hoseok spoke up, "By the way, if you ever need anything or have any trouble, feel free to knock on my door. We're practically neighbours for the next few days." He knocked at his door jokingly, before showing you into your cabin.

You nodded in gratitude, feeling a sense of warmth in both the gesture and the offer.

The Woodson's cabin was a rustic haven nestled amidst a picturesque snowy landscape. Its exterior, adorned with a glistening layer of snow, exuded a quaint charm that perfectly complemented the festive spirit of the holidays. A trail of footprints led to the wooden porch, where a wreath of pine cones and twinkling lights welcomed visitors.

Upon entering, the warm aroma of burning pine logs greeted you, emanating from a grand fireplace that stood as the heart of the cozy abode. The crackling flames cast dancing shadows on the log walls, revealing a collection of Wooderson family mementoes – framed photographs capturing moments of laughter, family gatherings, and snowy adventures. The memories were frozen in time, a testament to the cabin's rich history and the cherished moments shared by generations past.

The living area featured plush, oversized chairs and a well-worn sofa, adorned with festive throw blankets that beckoned you to sink in and relish the comfort. The windows, framed by heavy curtains, offered panoramic views of the snow-covered landscape, while the soft glow of fairy lights added a touch of enchantment.

In the corner of the cabin, a towering Christmas tree stood adorned with an array of ornaments, casting a festive hue that bathed the room in a warm and inviting light. A quaint dining table, draped with a red-and-green checkered tablecloth, held the remnants of a shared meal, as the remnants of peppermint hot cocoa lingered in the air.

Upon entering, the warm aroma of burning pine logs greeted you, emanating from a grand fireplace that stood as the heart of the cosy abode. The crackling flames cast dancing shadows on the log walls, revealing a collection of Wooderson family mementoes – framed photographs capturing moments of laughter, family gatherings, and snowy adventures. You could spot your family and more familiar faces in the frames: the memories were frozen in time, a testament to the cabin's rich history and the cherished moments shared by generations past.

The living area featured plush, oversized chairs and a well-worn sofa adorned with festive throw blankets that beckoned you to sink in and relish the comfort. The windows, framed by heavy curtains, offered panoramic views of the snow-covered landscape, while the soft glow of fairy lights added a touch of enchantment.

In the corner of the cabin, a towering Christmas tree stood adorned with an array of ornaments, casting a festive hue that bathed the room in a warm and inviting light. A quaint dining table, draped with a red-and-green checkered tablecloth adorned the center of the cabin as the fragrance of toasted peppermint lingered in the air.

Hoseok bashfully scratched his head. “I may or may not have used your stove to make myself some Christmassy drinks.”

You grinned. “Was it something with peppermint?”

“How did you know?” Hoseok asked, nodding in agreement as he stacked the washed and dried mug back in the cabinet. “I’ve always loved a good old mint flavoured drink, and ‘tis the season for peppermint, isn’t it?”

Seeing your vigorous agreement, Hoseok offered to whip up a drink for you while you settled your belongings in the cabin.

“I’ll start the fireplace,” Hoseok called after you, busying away in the hall while you made your way to the bedroom.

It felt like ages since you had sat by yourself, giving yourself time to do nothing.

After you had moved away from your hometown, your life had been consumed with racing against the clock. With all your hardwork, you had been successful in your education, your career, and you had a place that you called your own. And yet, there were barely moments where you got to enjoy the time you so rightfully deserved to give yourself. Running around to prove yourself had only made you deprive yourself of your own time, seldom finding it in your busy hubbub.

And now, as you overlooked the snow-laden mountains, with the town distantly coloured in a warm hue, you felt your shoulders melt into a more carefree, comfortable posture. You deserved this, you thought to yourself. It was more than worth it to come here, all alone, and enjoy one vacation in solidarity. You deserved the time all to yourself.

And plus, Hoseok’s here for company, you added, feeling more and more resolute in your decision to take a break from the festive season.

“This tastes really good, and I say that as someone who barely drinks coffee,” you hummed, hands wrapping around the warm mug that Hoseok handed to you.

He occupied the other end of the sofa, matching mug in his hands, crossing his legs comfortably. “That’s mainly because of the peppermint, Y/N. It adds a sense of uniqueness to the otherwise common coffee and elevates it.” You giggled at his narration as he indicated to his mug as if pitching a billion-dollar idea.

“I noticed you like peppermints a lot,” you said, sipping away at the drink. “I like them too, but it is rare to find a fellow lover.”

“Oh, I love them!” Hoseok beamed eagerly. “Peppermint mochas are probably my favourite thing to make over the holidays. It is the only time of the year where it tastes just right and fits in, you know?”

“My family used to make peppermint-infused hot chocolate,” you grinned. “It used to taste amazing.”

As the crackling fire painted a warm ambience across the cabin, a subtle wave of nostalgia washed over you. The flickering flames seemed to dance in sync with the memories of holidays long gone, reminding you of the lively chaos that filled your childhood home during this time of year.

Hoseok, sensing a shift in your demeanour, looked at you with understanding eyes. "Something on your mind, Y/N?" he asked, the glow from the fireplace casting a gentle warmth on his features.

You hesitated for a moment before responding, "It's just that... well, I miss my family. The holidays were always about being together; this year, being here alone feels different. I mean, it's wonderful to be back in this town, but the absence of their laughter and the familiar holiday chaos is hard to ignore."

Hoseok nodded empathetically, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I get that. Family has a way of making this time of year special. Maybe we can bring a little bit of that magic here. What's something your family always did during the holidays?"

As you shared tales of your family's traditions, Hoseok listened attentively. You don’t know when you two had started shifted closer, but soon enough, you and Hoseok were slapping each other on the arms while laughing away at old, embarrassing childhood stories.

“I can’t believe you would do that!” you laughed, wiping a tear away from your eyes. Hoseok chuckled at your state.

“Well, its at least better than when my family paraded me as baby Jesus on Halloween - my neighbour’s kid actually thought I was him,” he added, making you laugh even more.

Outside, you could see the snow settling up higher and higher, and soon you and Hoseok decided to bid goodbye for the night. While walking him out, you chatted about more anecdotes from your time in this town - and you found yourself thinking, this vacation isn’t off to a bad start at all.

Just before saying your goodbyes, Hoseok's eyes caught something above the door – a delicate mistletoe, adorned with tiny white berries, hung there as if placed by some unseen holiday fairy. A mischievous glint sparkled in Hoseok's eyes as he gently pointed upward.

"Well, look what we have here," he remarked with a playful grin, drawing your attention to the festive foliage above.

Your gaze followed his, and a soft gasp escaped your lips as you realized the implication. The air seemed to crackle with an unspoken tension, and a warm flush crept up your cheeks. Hoseok, with a charming smile, took a step closer, the glow of the cabin's lights framing his silhouette against the snowy backdrop.

"Tradition dictates that if two people find themselves beneath mistletoe, they share a kiss," Hoseok said, his voice low and filled with a playful warmth. “Unless they both don’t consent, of course.”

You hesitated, before responding. “I’m single, so - unless you don’t want to -”

Before you could fully complete your words, Hoseok leaned in, closing the gap between you. Time seemed to slow as his lips met yours in a gentle, lingering kiss, capturing the essence of the winter night and the enchantment that hung in the air. The snowflakes continued their silent descent around you, adding a touch of whimsy to the unexpected yet welcomed moment.

As his lips parted from yours, you could feel the frosty snow take away his warmth, and you oddly wanted nothing more to pull him back and kiss him.

But he was already walking away, promising to see you the next day. “See you tomorrow, beautiful."

The mistletoe kiss had cast a spell, and the days that followed became a tapestry woven with the threads of shared laughter and newfound connection. The town, now dressed in the shimmering aftermath of Christmas, beckoned the two of you to explore its post-celebration charm.

In the heart of the town, where the streets turned into a canvas painted with the hues of festive lights, you couldn't help but marvel at the lively holiday market. "It's like walking into a snow globe," you mused, the twinkling lights reflecting in her eyes.

Hoseok grinned, the glow of the lights accentuating the warmth in his eyes. "A magical snow globe where every shop is a treasure trove waiting to be discovered."

The vendors, like holiday artisans, showcased their creations with pride. Hoseok found himself drawn to a quaint bakery where the scent of peppermint-infused pastries lingered in the air. "I can almost taste the nostalgia in these," he remarked, savoring a bite of a holiday treat.

You chuckled, a melody that harmonized with the festive ambience. "Nostalgia is the secret ingredient that makes everything here taste like a piece of childhood."

As you both strolled through the town square, the ice-skating rink unfolded like a winter dreamscape. People of all ages took advantage of the icy wonderland, gliding and playing around on the ice. "Care to join me?" Hoseok extended his hand, the invitation echoing your kiss from a few nights ago.

You hesitated for a moment before taking his hand. “As long as you don’t make me fall,” you remarked, making him laugh.

Evenings were a journey through the luminous streets, where each step resonated with shared stories and whispered dreams. The glow of holiday lights reflected in his eyes as they approached midnight. Hoseok, holding Y/N close, whispered against the backdrop of fireworks, "Here's to new beginnings."

It was almost as if the post-Christmas festivities had turned the town into a living storybook, with Hoseok and you as its protagonists. The holiday magic lingered in the air, blending seamlessly with the enchanting connection that unfolded like the turning pages of a heartwarming tale.

A chilly onslaught broke the rather pleasant dream you were having. Groggily, you woke up, wrapping the blanket around you strongly to block out the sudden rush of iciness. The fireplace weakly flickered, and you could hear the howling winds outside as a storm built up.

Not knowing what to do, you decided your best option was probably to try to revive the fireplace and whip up something warm for yourself. You poked at the fire, but it seemed like it wouldn’t revive at all. As the firewood dwindled and the flames grew weaker, the bitter cold of the snowstorm seeped into the cabin, chilling the air and turning every breath into a visible mist. Despite your best efforts, the fire refused to revive, leaving you shivering and desperate for warmth.

“I did come here to be alone, but this is not what I envisioned,” you laughed to yourself, hugging your blanket tighter.

Your phone was not getting any network, so you hoped that Hoseok would somehow be awake at 2 AM. Bundling yourself up to the best of your abilities, you set out to his side of the cabin, knocking at his door as loudly as you could.

A few minutes later, a rather disgruntled Hoseok appeared at the door. “Is everything okay?” he rasped, hair awry and clothes haphazardly pulled on.

“I think my heating is broken, and the fire isn’t reviving, either.” You explained.

“Ahh.” Hoseok welcomed you in his cabin - a near mirror image of your one - and let you settle up on the couch while he volunteered to check on your heating system.

While Hoseok busied himself outside, you noticed how tidy Hoseok had kept the cabin. There were more photos here - though you could only recognise a few faces - and a few more albums, stacked on the table next to the fireplace. Curiosity getting the better of you, you decided to peruse through one of them, immediately finding pictures of people from your neighbourhood celebrating Christmas together. On some pages, you could find your own parents smiling back at you, with your siblings holding hands with the other kids from the neighbourhood and singing carols captured in a faded photo.

To your surprise, you stumbled upon a faded photograph of two young kids, clutching a bag of peppermints, wearing matching grins.

Hoseok stepped in at that time, and yet, in your shock, you could barely register any of the words he was saying.

"Hoseok, is this...?" you began, showing him the picture.

He glanced over and chuckled. "Yeah, that's me, and my neighbour’s kid. We used to be quite the troublemakers when our families spent holidays here together."

You smiled. “Do you know where this kid is now?”

“No,” he said, sadly. “I wish I did, though. We used to be best friends when we were younger, literally joined at the hip, but didn’t really stay in touch after I left. I sometimes do wonder about her.”

You held the picture up to your face, making Hoseok face you. “Don’t you think something about us looks similar?”

Hoseok frowned, judging the faded Kodak with your beaming face. “You do have the same eyes, now that you say it. She had very pretty eyes.”

“Do you not remember her name?” You asked.

“We would call each other with nicknames,” Hoseok said, dusting the snow off his hair. “I used to call her Bunny, and she used to call me-”

“Hobi,” you completed, eyes gleaming.

Hoseok looked stunned. “Yeah, that’s what she called me. How did you know that?”

You laughed at his oblivion. “Because I am Bunny, silly.”

“Wha-oh?” Hoseok exclaimed, bracing himself as you rushed to hug your childhood best friend. “Are you serious?”

“I am,” you convinced him, finding it just as hard to believe as him. I mean, you don’t come to a cabin on the outskirts of the town looking for solitude only to bump into your childhood best friend again, do you?

Hoseok pulled away from you, gripping your shoulders and letting his eyes take in every part of you - as if he were meeting you for the first time again. “I can’t believe it is you.”

“Me neither,” you said, as you kissed his cheek. “It has been far too long, Hobi.”

Hoseok's astonishment lingered in the air as you both navigated the surprising reunion. The faded photograph, a relic of childhood mischief, lay forgotten on the table, replaced by the incredulous exchange between Bunny and Hobi after years of separation.

The cabin, with its walls echoing with the laughter of yesteryears, seemed to encase the timeless connection that had just resurfaced. Hoseok's eyes remained fixed on you, his disbelief slowly giving way to the realization that the Bunny he once knew was standing right in front of him.

As the shock settled, you couldn't help but laugh at the sheer serendipity of the moment. "I never imagined I'd find Bunny and Hobi reunited in a cabin on the outskirts of town," you remarked, a playful gleam in your eyes.

Hoseok joined in your laughter, the familiarity of shared memories weaving a comforting thread between you. "It's like a plot from a nostalgic movie," he added, shaking his head in amazement.

The two of you, now seated on the sofa, exchanged stories of the years that had passed, bridging the gap between then and now. The cabin, a silent witness to the unravelling narrative, seemed to cradle the essence of your rekindled friendship.

As the night wore on, and the snowstorm outside intensified, the cosy cabin transformed into a haven against the wintry tempest. Hoseok, ever thoughtful, stoked the fireplace, the flames casting a warm glow on the shared stories and laughter.

The sofa, now an island in the sea of nostalgia, beckoned both of you to its comforting embrace. The flickering flames, the snowstorm outside, and the whispers of shared memories paved the way for an unspoken understanding.

"You know," Hoseok began, his tone gentle, "it feels like we never really left those days behind. Just picked up where we left off."

You nodded in agreement, feeling a sense of belonging that transcended time. "It's like we're continuing a story that got interrupted."

As the night deepened, the warmth of the cabin and the shared connection became a refuge from the cold. The sofa, once a witness to the nostalgia of the past, now cradled the reunion of Bunny and Hobi.

Hoseok, looking at you with a softness in his eyes, spoke words that resonated with the atmosphere of the cabin. "I'm glad you found your way back, Bunny."

You leaned in, your shoulders brushing against each other, and whispered, "Me too, Hobi. Me too."

The flickering flames painted a dance on the log walls, casting shadows that seemed to waltz in rhythm with your shared laughter. The coziness of the cabin, the gentle snowstorm outside, and the rekindled friendship all merged into a symphony of comfort.

In the hushed moments that followed, the realization dawned that sleep was claiming its territory. The sofa, now transformed into a shared haven, invited both of you to surrender to its embrace.

"You know, Hobi," you said, your voice a sleepy murmur, "I never thought I'd find such warmth in the midst of a snowstorm."

Hoseok chuckled, the sound a gentle melody. "Maybe the storm outside brought us the warmth we didn't know we needed."

And so, amidst the crackling fire and the distant howl of the snowstorm, you and Hoseok snuggled closer, finding solace in the shared warmth. The flickering flames painted a canvas of comfort, casting a soft glow on your intertwined fingers.

And then, as if the universe had orchestrated the moment, your gaze met Hoseok's, and in that shared glance, a silent understanding bloomed. With a tenderness that mirrored the nostalgia of rediscovery, your lips met in a gentle kiss, sealing the night with a promise of new beginnings. The flickering flames seemed to dance in celebration, casting a warm glow on the cabin, now a witness to your reunion.

As sleep began to weave its tranquil spell, Hoseok whispered, "I’m so glad I met you again, Bunny."

You smiled, the words a gentle echo in the cozy cabin. "I’m so grateful, Hobi."

While your previous year left much to be forgotten, it seemed that this year had begun with the embrace of an unexpected reunion, the flickering flames and the snowstorm outside bearing witness to the rekindling of a friendship that time had only strengthened. In the arms of the cabin, beneath the quilt of shared memories, you and Hoseok surrendered to the tranquility of the night, finding peace in the warmth of each other's presence.

If you made it till here, thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed the fic - i would love to hear from you about it! love, hazel <3

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yoongsisbae · 2 years

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Day Dream | JHS

The days are hotter, you sleep restlessly. Tired, you sleep more, you sleep and you dream and you meet the dream walker.

sandman!Hoseok x reader. Enemies to…well they kind of started as lovers too :’D

Warnings: 18+ smut, somnophilia, bdsm themes, dubcon, wet dreams, reader manipulation, dacryphilia, fuck or die, public sex, rough sex, degradation, name calling, restraints, voyeurism, fingering, oral sex, just so much sex :’D, creepy dream sequences-think Paprika, …tentacles…reader’s dreams are wild ;o; if you come to a part and think am I about to read tentacle smut? and you don’t want to read tentacle smut, I suggest just skip to the end of that dream sequence :’), monsters, aliens, blood, torture, childhood trauma, brief mention of a sleep patient-child-can’t sleep because of abuse, cheating kind of (does dreaming about other men count lol), Hobi stealing Joon’s girl :P but in all seriousness this is kind of a dark and twisted tale and if that’s not your thing, move along thank you if you’re still here it’s also supposed to be pretty ridiculous and campy so I hope you can be entertained and laugh a little too :’)

Word Count: 22.9k

---

So hot.

Was it the heat that woke you up, you wonder sitting in bed, covers wet with your sweat and your clothes clinging to you, pulled at odd angles, uncomfortably bunched up at the seams, digging into your armpits and around your breasts. You pull the damp material off and over your head, feeling a little less suffocated.

Your room is pitch black, but your eyes, accustomed to the darkness, could see the sleeping form of your boyfriend, Namjoon, his sheets kicked off, body sprawled on the bed in nothing but boxer briefs. He was snoring, but that wasn’t what woke you.

What was it? There’s this nagging feeling pulling at you, something lost back into the deep recesses of your mind, the answer annoyingly stuck at the tip of your tongue.

It’s quiet, only the soft whirling of your aircon working overtime in the hot spring heat. It is the hottest spring year on record, though they like to say that every year. It just keeps getting worse and worse, unbearable heat and pollen, like the world was fighting back with it’s last dying breath. Why does the world have to attack you, though?

You nudge your giant of a boyfriend back onto his side. It’s not that you didn’t love him or loved cuddling him, but being pressed up against his body, now radiating nuclear levels of warmth was just too much tonight. He grunts and rolls over and snores and you can’t help but smile, admiring his ability to sleep through this hellish heat.

It’s so hot you want to cry! There is no cold spot on your bed, no relief. You feel exhausted. And there is another irritating feeling, wrapping itself around your body, clinging, itching, digging. You want a distraction from the heat, you want sex. You want something inside you, making you forget about everything else. You’re so hot. You’re so hot.

You look over to your boyfriend once again, debating on waking him. No, it would be too cruel of you to deprive him of much needed rest. No, you’ll just go back to sleep.

---

“Yes, yes!”

Namjoon has his arms locked around your legs, face buried deep into your sex, giving you exactly what you want, what you need.

It was a dream, yes, but it was also an old memory, to when he took you on vacation to the mountains, it was your first stay at a hot spring inn. The vacation was perfect, you were never more relaxed. Then at night, before falling asleep in each other’s arms, you made love in your small tiny inn room. Joon and you had lots of energy to spare, you think you might have christened every inch of that inn floor.

It was one of the best nights of your life, and the best orgasms, like the one your dream boyfriend was working to give you now, mouth suctioned to your clit, long fingers stroking inside your walls, making your legs shake against his head.

Namjoon groans into your heat as you tighten around his digits, pressing his hips down into the floor mat underneath your bodies.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you tilt your head back moaning, so close...

…and see something that was not there before, something that did not belong in your old memory…well, someone, actually.

A man stands in the corner, leaning against the inn’s framed wall, smirking down at you and Namjoon. He’s wearing the same inn robes as your boyfriend, black wild hair styled away from his face, dark eyes watching you.

You immediately tense, blood running cold in shock, startled so much you forget to scream, immediately pulling at your dream boyfriend’s shoulders to get him off of you. But this boyfriend of yours had only been dreamed up to have one objective, and he wasn’t going to stop now when you were so close.

“J-Joon!” you stutter, trying to pull your legs free, fighting against his tight embrace. His strokes are steady and smooth, fingers slipping in and out of you easily even with every part of you tense. His tongue rolls over your clit again and a reluctant moan escapes your lips.

The man moves closer, smile widening. Your don’t know whether it’s Joon’s relentless fingers inside your drenched center or the fear coursing through you that makes you lightheaded, breaths labored, the pit of your stomach dropping lower and lower until you feel the pressure in your toes, barely able to think until the stranger’s toes stop at the top of your shoulders as he looks down at you, tilting his head.

You pull on Namjoon’s hair, but it’s useless.

“Close?” The man asks you so nonchalantly it makes your head spin once again. “Want my help?”

“W-Who are y-you?”

Trying to make casual conversation proves to be extremely difficult with Namjoon enthusiastically eating you out.

“Take my hand and find out,” he smiles wickedly.

His open palm is held right above your head.

What the hell is happening? Everything about this situation feels so bizarre and surreal, like a dream.

Like a dream.

Are you dreaming?

Your breathing hitches, your limbs locking. Fuuuck! Namjoon, your devoted dream boyfriend is bringing you so close to orgasm you can’t take it anymore, you want to come so badly. Your body feels like it’s floating away, higher and higher. You’re almost there.

Hoseok lies down, head resting on your shaking shoulder. He peers over at you, watching how your eyebrows draw together, mouth opened in silent cries. ‘This is quite the show,’ he thinks, licking his lips. And he’s enjoying it very much.

The weight of Hoseok’s head brings you back down, unable to ignore his presence. “Go a-away!” you manage to scream through protracted moans.

“Is that what you really want?” he turns, eyes narrowing.

“I w-want to come…ugggh.” You turn your head too, your chin knocking into Hoseok’s nose.

Hoseok chuckles, sighing. You can feel the heat of his breath on your lips. “Let me help,” he repeats, “let me offer a helping hand,” he says playfully. “What do you think?”

You groan, knocking your head back in frustration, instead of meeting hard mat your head lands on soft fabric and Hoseok’s warm chest. Giving in, you breathe out a soft, “O-Okay.”

Hoseok snaps his fingers and whatever you were expecting, this was not it…

…another version of your sweet boyfriend, sliding open the door to your inn room. Hoseok sends you a dashing smile, very pleased with himself. Your eyes widen as familiar hands turn your head away from the strange man.

Your robe is being unbelted, breasts kneaded, nipples pinched as Namjoon licks into your mouth, tongue rolling over yours, pinning your hands above your head in one large hand. It’s overwhelming, it’s all the things Namjoon does to you that you liked, that you missed, and when your original dream lover curls his fingers inside you, you release, vision spotting until nothing but white remains.

You, a white room…and that man, still lying against your shoulder, humming pleasantly to himself. You inhale a deep shuddering breath. “What’s happening?”

“You know, naughty girl.”

‘Wake up, y/n, wake up.’ you think.

“That hardly ever works,” Hoseok sings.

You pull your robe over your spent body, shuffling away from the strange man.

Hoseok sits up too, leaning back on his arms, studying you again. He knows what you’re thinking because he knows what you’re dreaming. You’re wondering why he wasn’t the one who touched you instead of your replica lover.

He looks around at the place your mind took him, a place with endless possibilities, how nice of you, how inviting.

“Where to next? What other beautiful places did you want to visit?”

As soon as he asks the question, your mind already has the answer. Hoseok’s palms lay flat on bright white flooring, and then-

-his fingers dig into snow.

“W-What?” You look around at the snowy landscape, holding your robe tighter, you shiver in the cold. Cold, yes! Oh god, how you wished it was cold.

Snowflakes fall into your open palm.

‘That was easy,’ Hoseok thinks. ‘You are perfect.’

You wake up restless, your core drenched. The details of your dream becoming fuzzy already. Were you…playing in the snow?

Namjoon has his arms around you, snoring lightly. You bring his hand to your lips, kissing his knuckles, hoping to rouse him awake. You were itching to be under him this morning. You give him soft morning kisses across his face until he stirs, yawning, and you let out a tiny needy whine. Namjoon buries his head in your chest, half asleep.

“Joonie, fuck me,” you whine.

That knocks some tiredness away. “Yeah? Before work?”

You nod, knees digging into his side, ready. Namjoon kisses down your stomach, pulling your panties away.

“Oh fuck,” Namjoon is fully awake now, “You’re so wet.”

---

You pull out your earpiece after another successful show, ready to change out of your performance outfit and back into your long glittery award ceremony dress. It was another recurring dream of yours, a fantasy where you were a famous pop singer just finishing a buzzworthy singing performance on the stage of one of the most prestigious award shows in the world. But this time was different, your dressing room was smaller, you stood alone in front of your vanity without your makeup artists and stylists working hurriedly around you.

You stare at your reflection, a prettier thinner perfect-faced version of yourself with diamonds hanging off your ears and around your neck, dressed in an impeccably styled colorful wig and bombshell makeup. In this dream you can call yourself beautiful, with a face you’ve only attained through face tuning and a body you’ve tried to achieve for months, but in your real life you’re not rich enough to have personal trainers and home chefs and all the amenities a famous singer might have. You could only dream for this body.

You shimmy into your tight gown, readying yourself for the next stage in your dream life.

“Let me help you.”

Why does that voice sound so familiar? You look up, catching the owner to that voice in the reflection of your mirror. He shuts the door behind him quietly, his reflection smiling back when your eyes meet.

Hoseok stands handsomely in a sleek white suit and bright red hair, a loud style fitting for an idol.

In this version of your dream he plays the part of your secret boyfriend, altering the fantasy only slightly, loved by your adoring fans, and loved by him.

You fell right into the new role of girlfriend he crafted, he was too good looking to deny. Of course the famous pop-singer-version of you would have a hidden romance, someone who couldn’t keep his hands off of you, who would risk his reputation for a couple minutes alone with you backstage.

You watch through the mirror as he comes closer, hand reaching exposed skin, fingers running along your spine teasingly until he reaches the pieces of your open dress. You bite your lip, moving your hips until your ass meets his clothed crotch, smiling coyly at his reflection.

Oh, Hoseok liked you. He pulls the zipper up, fixing your gown, kissing your shoulder softly.

“What if someone walks in?” you whisper, giggling, enjoying the attention from the beautiful man of your dreams.

“We will have to just be quick then and not get caught,” he smirks. Hoseok holds your hand, twirling you around as if you were dancing, and kisses you deeply, like he has been aching to do so for so long, mouth devouring yours, a long series of rushed fierce kisses.

This was so risky, so scandalous. The rumors of your friendship already made every quick glance and friendly banter in public so much more scrutinized. Would fans notice the both of you not in your seats? Would they make the connection? Could a worker have seen him enter your dressing room? Will there be a blind item about the two of you?

The risk made you both more ravenous for one another. The exhilaration of getting caught made your desire for him grow even hotter, compounding your passion until you were frenzied, groping at each other, letting your lungs burn instead of pulling away from his soft lips and warm mouth.

“Your performance tonight was amazing,” Hoseok gropes your ass, yanking you closer, lifting you up and setting you on the vanity. You open your legs for him, securing your ankles around his hips. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you, y/n.” he whispers into your ear, breathing in deep, smelling your skin like the petals of a beautiful rose.

“Oh-”

“-Hoseok,” he finishes for you, teeth pulling at your bottom lip.

That’s right, Hoseok. Your secret lover, your perfect idol boyfriend. The man of your dreams. The object of your desires. The man between your legs who was gripping your thighs and opening you wider, pulling at your stockings and ripping the fabric at the seam.

You pull him closer, arms around his shoulders, head leaning on the side of his cheek, trying to keep your moans quiet when he presses inside you, two fingers dipping into your wetness. His nose nudges your diamond earring, licking your neck, electrifying your nerves at each end. You groan, eyes tightly shut, mouth slack, so overwhelmed by everything about this man. Hoseok, your forbidden lover. You think deeper and he fills you to his knuckles, you think more and he drags his fingers out with precise quickness. He’s unraveling you and he’s barely even started.

The crowd in the ceremony stadium cheers loudly and you remember where you are, a beautiful dream where you're soon going to be honored with a top award for your new hit single.

“Hoseok, I h-have to go.”

“Stay with me here, we still have time.” You’ve only been asleep in your bed for a couple of hours, he still has all night with you. “A quickie? Please, baby. I want you so fucking bad,” he groans, pressing another finger inside you and groping your breasts. He’s so tempted to rip your dress apart and fuck your senseless, fill your mouth with his cock until your makeup is running down your tear-streaked face. Hoseok wants to completely ruin you, but this dream tonight is not that kind of fantasy, tonight he’ll make you feel like a superstar, the most desired woman in the world.

You work quickly to undo his belt, agreeing with him, eager to be filled with his hard cock. You were aching for him, breathless from desire, your core pulsing around his digits with anticipation.

“You want to be famous, is that it?” He asks quietly, watching you intently as you scooch your hips closer to him.

“What?” you pause, looking into Hoseok’s eyes, his cocky flirty demeanor now gone. He runs the back of his knuckles over the hard jewels of your large diamond necklace.

“I’m just trying to understand you, y/n.”

The crowd swells again, cheering, reminding you where you were. “I-” You were supposed to receive your award, make a teary speech, be seen, be heard, be praised, finally. “I need to g-”

He wraps his hand around your neck, pulling your attention to him. Only him. There’s only Hoseok, kissing you, tongue down your throat, making you feel pleasure you’ve never felt before. You run your hands through his soft bright red hair while he positions himself at your opening, hands tight around your thighs, folding your body, legs up and open, the unforgivingly tight fabric of your dress bunched around your hips, the glittery jewels clinking together as he thrusts into you.

You hold onto the back of his neck, jostled into glass with each hard fast thrust. Your heavy jewelry hits against your skin and expensive makeup falls to the ground around Hoseok’s feet, cracking the pressed pigments and breaking lipstick bullets. He’s not holding back, rattling the vanity so loudly your tryst could surely be heard from the outside. Hoseok doesn’t care, he pistons into you, cock dragging along your walls so deep you’ve never felt so full and desperate to come.

“I’m c-close,” your fingers glide over your slippery folds, rubbing across your clit, searching for release.

He lets go of your thighs, leaving fingertip sized bruises behind, to be later covered by your dress and discovered when paparazzi cameras catch your legs, high dress slit revealing his roughness. His hands cup your cheeks instead, pulling you into a heated kiss, his hold on you possessive and dominating. You could stay here forever, being fucked by Hoseok like you’ve never been fucked before, being kissed like Hoseok needed you to breath, being held by him like long lost lovers suddenly reunited. You could stay with him forever-

Ding ding ding. Your alarm clock rings. You feel like gravity is working against you. You try to lift your tired body. Your boyfriend grumbles next to you, “turn it off.”

Your body is buzzing. Your center is sticky, dripping, your clothes clinging to your warm body.

‘What was that?’ Who was that man in your fantasy? The dream starts slipping away as you try to recollect what happened. You start to feel guilt, the dream had been so intense it left you aching and wanting for more sleep just to experience it again. You felt guilty because it wasn’t Namjoon in your dream, it was a random man, a man you don’t even recognize, but god, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. What did you call him again?

---

“Well you are looking quite refreshed,” Jimin laughs, looking up from his phone and sipping coffee. “Feeling better?”

Hoseok’s hair sticks up all at odd angles, his pants hung low, he laughs along with his roommate, “Yeah, I’m feeling a lot better.”

“Good, cause I was worried. Everyone has been getting sick-”

“No no no! It’s just stress sprinkled with some insomnia,” he laughs. “But I’m good now,” he says and shakes a bottle of melatonin before throwing it over to his roommate.

“Insomnia?! I don’t think I’ve ever met a person who sleeps more than you,” Jimin calls out to him. Hoseok laughs and styles his hair, slinging his tie around his shirt collar, getting ready for his job.

Hoseok wasn’t sick, however, he did have an illness. Some might even call it a curse…

Because Hoseok could not dream.

When Hoseok laid in bed at night and dozed off into Dreamland, the places his mind took him were not dreams of his own making.

Hoseok was a dream walker.

See, for a boy who did not dream, Dreamland became Hoseok’s playground. For what would you do if you had the power of creation, of destruction, of complete metamorphosis at the tips of your fingers? Of course Hoseok embraced his powers, took advantage of them, of unsuspecting dreamers, of you.

At an early age he learned quickly how to navigate the dreams that did not belong to him, to walk between imagined worlds so vast and intricate that not even the dreamers themselves knew the design as well as Hoseok. Most dreamers exhausted Hoseok, it was not easy to change the design of a dream world to best suit him, but sometimes he would find some real gems, dreamers whose wavelengths synced perfectly up with the dream walker, who were so willing to let him work his magic.

For Hoseok it was a game, a challenge, he rarely cared about the consequences, because it was just a dream after all. The dreamers Hoseok found could be anywhere in the world, he rarely targeted dreamers in his area, it complicated things, in the real world there were laws and regulations, where not even the laws of physics applied in Dreamland.

You can tell a lot about people from their dreams. Dreams reveal a person’s true natures, their deepest desires and strongest fears. So then what kind of man was Hoseok? An upstanding citizen in his waking life, and once he closed his eyes, well, he would become whatever he wanted to be.

---

“Would you tell your girlfriend?�� you ask your friend, Jin.

“No, definitely not! She gets mad at me when I do something bad in her dreams. God, I can’t imagine the other way around. I might as well never wake up again!”

You groan, “I feel like I’m losing my mind.” You loved Namjoon, so why do you keep having so many dreams where you are fornicating with another man?! Well, at least the dreams you can remember.

And it’s always the same man too, no matter what setting or what scenario, Hoseok is there, captivating you with his handsomeness and theatrical personality like a showman bringing you to center stage, you can’t look away, he pulls you into every orchestrated dreamscape. And then every morning you wake up guilty and ashamed and worst of all, desperate to be fucked.

“There are so many things it could be, spicy food before bed time-”

“Nope.”

“Do you watch TV before you fall asleep?”

“Nope.”

“Err are you and Joon okay? You know…intimacy wise?” Jin asks.

“Yes!” you answer defensively. “We have lots of…intimacy!” Maybe you’re having even too much sex. Not that your boyfriend is complaining, but it’s becoming a lot, even for you. Namjoon has noticed your tossing and turning, your excessive neediness, he’s getting tired too, some mornings he just wants to cuddle instead!

“Listen, Joon is much more level headed. Just hope to god he doesn’t catch you moaning your new dream boyfriend’s name. Ooh Hoseok,” he mimics a teasing high pitched moan.

“Shut up shut up, we’re in public, Jin!” you hiss, smacking your friend in the back to silence him.

“I mean you like that, right?” he teases.

“What! Don’t-”

“You fantasize about being fucked in public, out in the open, where anyone could catch you, right?”

“J-Jin?”

You are completely taken aback by his change in demeanor. Your friend’s sweet smile is gone, replaced by a heated stare and a smirk pulling at his lips instead.

He looks around and then licks his lips, whispering to you in secret. “You fantasize about me sometimes too, don’t you?” he murmurs, “I mean, I don’t blame you, I’m a catch,” he winks. “But I do have a girlfriend, and you have a boyfriend. How could you, y/n?”

“I would n-never…I would never do that to Namjoon.”

“But you’re doing it right now,” a voice calls out to you. Hoseok sits at one of the café tables sipping coffee and tapping his foot. Some nights Hoseok likes to tease you like this, let you in on the secret, so to speak. You become so flustered then, so easy to fool.

“You...it’s you…I’m dreaming.”

As soon as the realization hits you, the rest falls like a veil, your consciousness removing all the unnecessary, and you’re left again with only Hoseok.

“You are.” Tonight Hoseok is blonde, in casual streetwear, styled too similar to your boyfriend, reminding you of your guilt all over again.

“Wake up!” you yell.

“Like I said, that’s not going to work-”

“WAKE UP.”

You sit up in bed, wheezing. Fuck Fuck Fuck, what the hell was that?

You yank off your covers, too heavy and warm and suffocating. It’s still nighttime and your boyfriend is sleeping soundly next to you. You let out a sigh of relief. You’ll just tell Namjoon, you’ll tell him you’re having nightmares, you don’t need to divulge the specifics. He’ll understand. He can help you try to find something to help, he’s good at that.

“Joonie,” you rub his back, “Hey-”

“I told you it won’t work.” Hoseok is wearing Namjoon’s pajamas, stretching out on your bed. You scream.

You lunge for the dream walker, swinging your fist at his face. Instead you fall forward, right onto a hard wooden surface.

“Shit, are you okay, y/n!” Seokjin pulls you up, “What happened? Did you trip over your own feet? Joon is really rubbing off on you.”

Huh, what? The barista calls your name.

“Have you been sleeping at all? You're starting to have dark circles, I’m worried about you, y/n. Forget about what I said earlier, you need to tell Joon everything.”

“Okay, yeah, I will.” You sip on the cold coffee, internally panicking. You look around quickly, nothing odd catches your eyes. Hoseok is not there. Was that…a day dream?

“Come on,” Jin smiles, “We have to get back to work.”

The day goes by achingly slow, your thoughts always drifting back to Hoseok. You couldn’t understand why you kept dreaming about him. Always him.

“Hey, hello, earth to y/n?! Are you spacing out again?” Jin waves his hand in front of you, a very worried expression on his face. The office is dark with only your computer screen illuminating your cubicle. “Let’s get out of here. It’s too spooky after closing,” Jin shivers.

“Thank you for walking me to my car.”

“No problem, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t make sure you got home safe? Are you sure you can drive? You’re not going to fall asleep while driving, are you?”

You shake your head, a little unsure if you’re being honest with yourself. “You don’t have to baby me, you know,” you joke, flicking his head. Jin has always been like a protective big brother to you.

“Pfft no, ‘Thank you, Jin?’ ‘I would probably be sleeping at my desk right now if it wasn’t for you Jin?’ I am eternally grateful to have you as my friend, Jin?’” He flicks you back.

“Thank you, Jin,” you smile and hug your friend goodbye.

“Anything for you, y/n.”

He looks down at you, a soft smile adorning his features, pausing like he wants to tell you something. You must really be looking tired. You feel guilty for making Jin worry about you. You’re fine! Sure, you have been staying up later and later, but-

You didn’t realize how close your friend was until his lips closed the gap. Soft and delicate, Jin kisses you cautiously.

You stood stunned, not knowing what to say, “Ji-”

“I’m sorry! I just-I thought, maybe you-”

“Joon is your friend-”

“I should have never introduced you to him,” He sighs. “I should have asked you out first, I was such an idiot-”

“You have a-”

“Shhhh,” he quiets you with another kiss, pressing you against the car and deepening the kiss when you don’t pull away.

You’re kissing Jin. You’re kissing him. Jin, whom you’ve known since high school. Your neighborhood friend, Jin, the sweet upperclassman who not once ever made a move on you, not in high school or college or when you reconnected again working at the same company. Jin, after all these years, was now kissing you?!

Jin took his time and savored you, slowly building up the heat and before you realized it, you were burning. His hands were careful, yet unlike his kisses, his caresses were not soft, no, when he placed his hand over your shirt to feel the curve of your breast, the pressure made you weak in the knees. He jutted his hips forward sharply, pressing his crotch into yours, shooting electricity up your spine and numbing all your doubtful thoughts.

He pulls away, lips covered in your shade of lipstick. “I need to have you. Now.”

Jin lifts your right leg, hooking his arm under your knee and pressing his clothed crotch into you again, and before you knew it, he had your skirt pulled up and his pants undone, angling your body to line up with his stiff cock. You could only gasp in pleasure and hold onto his wide shoulders for support as he presses his hips up into yours.

Jin turns your body, bending you across the hood of your car, the better angle making it easier for him to thrust into you, knocking all your thoughts away with each long sharp movement.

“See, I was right.”

You rest your forehead on metal, banging your head onto the car’s hood. But Hoseok would not let you ignore him this time, and Jin grabs a fistful of your hair pulling your head back.

You feel dirty and exposed. You deserve it, you think, for even dreaming about cheating on your wonderful boyfriend. This is a nightmare.

“If it was a nightmare, you would know y/n.”

“Fuck you,” you grit out.

“Maybe later. Looks like your good pal Jin is almost finished.”

You glare at the dream walker. Hoseok laughs. Suddenly a car pulls into the parking lot, lights blinding you. Jin hastily pulls out of you, “Fuck, let’s go!” and you have no choice but to follow your dream friend.

You and Jin run towards the back of your work building, finding a corner to hide behind. Once the coast is clear, your friend turns back to you smiling, resuming kissing you.

“Ugh no!” You push Jin away. “This was a mistake,” you mutter, “I shouldn’t even be dreaming about you!”

“You dream about me?” Jin teases, leaning into you.

“Yeah, like now, right now!” You’ve had enough of this dream, you shove your way past your dream friend, heading back into the building. “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, you’re not even real.”

“Wait wait wait,” he pulls you back by the elbow, “what is this, ‘we’re in a dream,’ do you think I’m an idiot, y/n? if you didn’t like me like that you can just tell me-”

“Ugh, that’s not-you’re not-you’re not real!” you yell, and it’s clear you’ve hurt dream Jin’s feelings. You feel sorry even if it wasn’t really your friend. “Jin, just-”

“I am too real! This is real, y/n-”

“Then explain that!” you point to the car pulling away from the parking lot, now that you and Jin were no longer there to be caught.

The car is driving itself.

Jin’s mouth drops. “U-Uh, w-well, you know, there are self driving cars, it’s a thing!”

“Okay, yeah, but a 1967 camaro?” Jin swallows at your words. “Right now, we’re in a dream, Jin. And I’m an idiot.”

“This... this is not real. I’m not real...” Jin swallows hard, blinking rapidly. “M-Maybe you’re in my dream, ever think about that?” Jin paces back and forth, your dream version not coming to terms well with the fact that he is only a figment of your imagination.

“How could you make me up? No, nah, nope.”

“Listen, Jin…Jin! I need your help, This other person I dreamed up, the one I told you about, he is literally haunting all my dreams now, and I don’t know what to-”

“I-If I’m so made up, what am I thinking right now!”

“I d-don’t know?” You need to wake up! You don’t have time to be arguing with dream people, but dream Jin looks so scared and uncertain waiting on your response. You sigh, “Um, pink llamas?”

“Ha! Wrong! But…oddly close,” Jin winces. Jin is having an existential crisis of your own making.

“Wait, if you dreamed me up, then you do feel the same way!”

“No, Jin, ugh,” you shake your head, massaging your temples. “Fuck, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Sometimes…maybe…I used to wonder why our friendship never became more. But that was before Namjoon! I’m over it now! And you have a girlfriend somewhere in this dream too! Stupid!”

“I can’t believe this!”

“Yeah, well, me either, this is giving me a headache. Now I definitely can’t tell you about this tomorrow.”

“Oh that’s right, you wanted my advice…” remembering the reason you both went out to lunch, “So were you planning to tell me out there too why you’ve been so distant?” he looks at you annoyed. “I see Joon more than I see you! Wait, so are you giving yourself advice right now? This is confusing.”

You groan, “I don’t know!” you yell, wishing you could just wake yourself up. You stomp towards the front of the building, hoping to get more answers.

Jin falls in step with you, “Why did you choose me of all people?” he asks softly.

“I don’t know. I feel safe around you,” you mutter. “I’ve known you the longest, any time I’ve come to you for help, you always seem to have the right answers. Ever since me and Joon happened and now you and your new girlfriend…we’ve grown apart and I’ve missed you, I guess.”

“I always wondered what would have happened if I hadn’t introduced you to Joon,” Jin looks down at his feet.

“No you haven’t,” you smile. “That’s just dream you talking. I’m sorry, for that too…I know you would never cheat on your girlfriend. I’m horrible, huh?”

“No, dream me is based on real me, right? Maybe your subconscious is showing you things you wouldn’t normally have picked up on.” Jin looks at you tenderly, a familiar look you’ve seen from him many times before.

“So what is my subconscious trying to tell me about him?” you whisper looking into the distance. Hoseok is holding a briefcase, dawning work attire, messy brown hair blowing away from his eyes in the wind, revealing his excited expression and sinister grin, heading right for the both of you.

Jin gets in front of you protectively. “I have an idea, let’s change the scenery, yeah?” He grabs your hand and heads towards the entrance.

He opens the doors and ushers you quickly inside, and when you step through the threshold you are no longer wearing your work clothes.

“How do I look?” Jin spins around in his old century hanbok.

“I’m pretty sure Marvel and the Joseon dynasty shouldn’t mix.” You look down at your tight superhero clothes.

“Hmm but you make one sexy superhero.” In this situation who do you blame, your dream friend or you for dreaming him up like this?

You look around the old temple architecture. “How did you do this?” you say, staring around in awe.

“You mean to tell me you realize you’re dreaming and you didn’t even think to dream up an escape plan? I figured it out right after you told me!”

You exhale, laughing. “Well, I guess that’s why you’re here then.”

Jin hugs you tight, “You have all the power, y/n. It's your dream.”

“Such sweet pillow talk.”

Oh no, it’s him again.

“Stop right there!” You don’t know whether it’s the superhero suit, or Jin’s imparted knowledge, but you are feeling brave enough to stand up to Hoseok. “You are done ruining my dreams! I made you up, so I can unmake you up!” you point at the dream walker. “Consider yourself laid off!”

Hoseok laughs a deep bellowing cackle at your antics.

“Y/n, be careful.” Jin whispers, stepping in between the two of you, eyes locked onto the pesky dream walker. “He’s-”

With a wave of Hoseok’s hand Jin turns into a pastel pink llama.

“J-Jin! No!”

“Braaaaaaraaaa” clop clop clop, dream llama Jin trots around in a circle to your dismay, having an another existential crisis of Hoseok’s making.

You reassure yourself this is just a dream, no matter how scared you feel. You’re a superhero right now, so act like it! What superpowers do you have?

Bright pink lasers shoot from your eyes, throwing Hoseok backwards.

However, Hoseok just falls back into a fit of laughter. “Is it my turn now? Let me show you what real power looks like.”

The wind picks up quickly, tiles and wood start lifting up and splintering. The wind rushes around you so loud it sounds like a speeding train. Hoseok throws you back so far and so fast it feels like the world's gravity shifts around you, and instead you’re falling, falling, falling infinitely and all you can do is scream-

A weak sound of distress leaves you as you wake from your dream, and once you can move your limbs again you burst into tears, sobbing, waking up Namjoon.

“What’s wrong, baby? Bad dream? Hey, hey you’re okay now. Please talk to me.” Namjoon does his best to comfort you, hugging you close.

---

“Come to bed, y/n,” Namjoon calls out from the bedroom.

“But this show is just getting good!” you yell back.

“Then I’ll watch with you,” Namjoon peeks out from behind your bedroom door and sleepily pads over to you, cuddling into your side. You laugh at how he tries to make himself smaller, snuggling under your arm. “I missed you last night, I don’t even remember you coming to bed. Let’s go to sleep, baby.”

It’s been three days and fifty or so cups of coffee later. “I’m not tired,” you lie.

“Is it because of that nightmare you had? You’re going to get sick if you don’t let your body rest,” Namjoon says worriedly.

“I’m fine, don’t worry, baby.” You were most definitely not fine.

---

“Commander, what was that?” Second-in-Command Namjoon Kim floats to your side.

You review the star station’s navigation system, locating the area of distress. “We were hit. Lockdown everything above the crew deck until we can patch the hole, contact officer Min immediately.”

“Shit, that’s close to our bio-agricultural room.”

“Whose shift is it today for plant harvesting? Notify them to start emergency quarantine protocols on all crops, pull any off duty crewmates. Now, go! And find out why operations hasn’t rebooted our anti-gravity system,” you yell after him.

“Captain Jung, how drastically has this affected our course?”

Hoseok conceals a smile behind his hand. “I can course correct so only a couple months are lost. But we have to repair the impact site within the next 72 hours.”

“Or?”

“Or I will have to drastically reduce our flight speed, and that could add...well...decades.” He looks over his shoulder, meeting your eyes.

Fuck. You float closer to his side, “We need to find out what the hell hit us first,” you grumble. You check oxygen and radiation levels on board. What was that impact? you wonder, opening the ship’s auto-generating space map, fingers quickly moving through the latest star pattern chart. The closest meteorite cluster was about 1.3 million km away. Unless a worm hole opened up right above your location, there shouldn’t have been any reason for impact!

Whatever hit the station shook the colossal space base. The collision did not sound like the usual meteorite rock hitting titanium metal, the sound that echoed the station halls upon impact sounded…alien.

“Commander?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“I found something,” Hoseok pulls up a heat map overlay, and shows you something you’ve never seen before, it was a physical impossibility! You squint at the invisible heat spot in the vast subzero nothingness of space.

“How is that possible?” You mutter, scrutinizing the anomaly.

Hoseok bites his lip, holding in his laughter. On cue the space station rattles and tail spins, throwing your bodies into the Navigation deck’s console as your station suffers another hit.

Something is attacking your space station!

You groan, clinging to Hoseok as yellow emergency lights fill the room. “Jung? Captain Jung?!” You pat your captain’s cheek, praying he wasn’t concussed. Hoseok stays unresponsive.

What the hell is going on aboard your ship?! You speak through your earpiece, calling for Namjoon or any officer who will respond to you. You retell the events of what occurred through your internal speaker system as one final announcement while moving your captain’s limp body into the deck's navigation chair, strapping him in and setting the emergency signal on to repeat. Then you find the weapon’s box hidden under the console. You’re commander of this star station and you’re not about to go down without a fight!

With your spacesuit on you slowly make your way towards the upper deck, quietly calling into your earpiece for any assistance. “Commander Kim? Come in, Commander Kim?” you whisper.

“Min!” You see the ship’s repair officer, his body floating above you, and his spacesuit covered in blood.

There’s blood…everywhere. Under yellow lightning the blood looks black, revealing the horror in a vivid display of violence. You hastily make your way to him. “Yoongi!” You push his body through the destruction carefully, dodging floating objects.

You close off the compromised area, airlocking the oxygen back in to proper breathing levels. Pulling off Yoongi’s helmet and suit and then your own, you check his pulse. He grunts in pain. He’s alive, you breath out in relief.

You float towards the closest first aid kit, injecting Yoongi with painkillers and steroids until he wakes.

“Officer Min?” You wipe away the perspiration from under his bangs, fixing his messy hair.

“I, ugh, I feel like shit.”

“You look like shit,” you quietly joke.

“Will that be going on today’s status report?” Yoongi winces trying to chuckle, writhing in pain, “The escape pods,” he says through labored breaths. “Get to one.”

A clanging pulls your attention away. Yoongi grips your elbow. “Y/n, listen to me, escape.”

“Yoongi, tell me what happened to you.”

He tries to smile, his breathing erratic. “I’m afraid I’ve been exposed to a hallucinatory agent,” he breathes, “Or at least, I hope I have.” Yoongi bites his lips, keeping his howls of pain in. Body shaking from a mixture of adrenaline and medicine and something else, he starts mumbling nonsense.

“Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix,” you mutter, checking the injections and reading through the side effects, trying to reason why Yoongi is acting so paranoid. You look around wearily. The sheer amount of blood, still pooling around you in droplets, was too much to only be Yoongi’s. So where are the other bodies?

“I couldn’t get to the area of impact, it wouldn’t let me,” he winces. There’s a loud bellowing noise, a far away crash. He groans, “It's h-here.”

You push him into a corner, securing Yoongi’s body to the station’s wall, handing him one of your weapons, a tactical knife and pull out your own, leaving the pistol in your utility belt as a last resort. “I’ll be right back.”

“No,” he winces, coughing up blood, unable to stop you. You move towards the locked part of the station, where monstrous screeches resound through the thick metal doors.

What is out there?

You move closer.

What is it?

There’s movement, slithering, clicking.

Is it…

“Y/n!”

Hoseok crashes into you. Your body spins, unable to right yourself in zero gravity. Hoseok wraps his arm around your wrist, pulling you to him. “Found you.”

“Wait!” You try to pull away as he moves you further and further away from Yoongi, trying to explain to him where you left the wounded repair officer, but he’s not listening to you, he’s counting down instead.

“Five four three two one-”

“Ahhh!” The anti-gravity systems re-engage and you fall into Hoseok’s arms. “Oh no, Min!” You struggle in Hoseok’s hold until he released you, turning around to help Yoongi, but Hoseok’s grip is strong and he spins you back around.

“It’s too late for him-”

“No it’s not!” You turn again only to be pulled into him once more. “Jung, I am your commander-”

“And I am captain of your ship,” Hoseok barks. “Follow me and I can get you out of here. If you go back there,” he warns, lowering his voice, “you’re going to regret it.”

You yank your hand out of his grasp, massaging your wrist. You know the situation is dire, but you’re still taken aback by your captain’s demeanor. Captain Jung has never acted like this before!

“I know you and officer Min had a…special connection,” he grips your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes without shying away from his accusations, “but you have to let him go.”

You yank your head away, rapidly blinking in embarrassment. “Check the dorms, see if there are any survivors, that’s an order-”

“It’s just you and me, Love,” he smirks.

‘And Yoongi,’ you think. He’s still trapped where you left him, most likely unable to free himself.

Hoseok scoffs, watching as you ignore him and run towards your doom, the nightmare’s climax. Well, at least he warned you.

You find Yoongi, strapped above you, his head lolled to the side. You resist the urge to cry, his chest rises only slightly, a sign he’s still alive, but his time is running out. With the gravity on, you have to climb to reach him.

“Yoongi, I’ll get you out of here.”

You free his torso with your knife and he falls forward into your arms. He’s heavier with the gravity on. Fuck. You struggle to hold him upright, frantically thinking of a way to get him out safely, unaware of the monstrosities closing in on you.

“Y/n?” Yoongi grunts. His arms weakly hold onto your sides. You look over your shoulder, you didn’t realize how high up you both were. You stretch your limbs to stay balance.

“I got you,” you whisper.

“I told you to go to the escape pods,” he grunts, groaning in pain, a growl deep and low and rumbling inside threatens to spill out of him.

The ship creeks, equipment falls to the ground, and the yellow lights grow dimmer. The situation is so helpless, you feel like crying, but you have to be strong as commander. “Not without you.” You push his hair to the side, and see how dark his eyes have become, how his irises seem to glow.

Yoongi coughs, breathing escalating, his arms gripping tighter around you.

“Y-Yoongi,” you struggle as you try to shift your body. But his embrace becomes too tight and you lose your footing, the pair of you falling as the last of his restraints snaps-

You plummet down. Your stomach lurches and you feel light and heavy all at once, like the first drop over a coaster, yet this was so much worse.

Except you never reach the station’s flooring.

You wince in Yoongi’s constricting hug, and soon you realize it’s not just Yoongi’s arms around you, but tight slithering sticky muscle, running along your legs, your arms, your torso…

“Yoongi!” you scream, scared for his life, afraid he too was being slowly constricted, unaware where the appendages were coming from, coming from the repair officer himself.

“Shit, I c-can’t-” Yoongi groans, sweating profusely, unable to control himself. Tentacles tighten around your ankles, move up your arms, run into your jumpsuit’s pant leg and under your collar, tearing the fabric, over your hips, around your neck, around your thighs, between your legs. The smooth appendages pulse all over your body.

More emerge from the repair officer, covering the ship like a web, allowing your bodies to slowly move down to the floor.

Space boots click on the hard flooring. Hoseok picks up your utility knife dropped to the ground and slices at the tentacles around your body.

Yoongi screams and they unravel and slither off of you as Hoseok yanks your sore body up, quite annoyed with you. “This is really not my thing,” he jeers. Throwing the knife like a dagger and pinning a tentacle to the ground. Yoongi wails in pain.

“Y-You’re hurting him!” You watch Yoongi rolling in pain on the floor, taking the state of your repair officer all in, a horrific monstrous sight.

“Hey, I’m not the one who turned my ex into a space monster! That was all you, ‘Commander.’”

Yoongi convulses, his own appendages fighting with him, wrapping themselves around his body and ripping into his jumpsuit.

You glare at Captain Jung, not fully understanding his words yet, still immersed in the nightmare. “We have to help him. You can help him.”

“And why should I?”

What is he saying? Why is your usual cheerful and bright captain acting so cruel? He’s been on this mission just as long as you, trained with Yoongi and you for years leading up to this voyage. How could he act so heartless?!

Yoongi screams, pale body red with marks as the alien appendages crawl over him. “He’s our teammate. Do something!!”

You try to go to Yoongi only to be pulled back once again. “The alien parasite needed a body. He’s the host now. I told you, you can’t save him. The parameters here can’t be undone, only altered. There’s only two ways to end this nightmare, Commander; escape or let it use you to multiply.” He looks down at Yoongi with apathetic eyes, kicking at the slithering tentacles.

End this nightmare? Parameters, he said.

Parameters of a dream.

“A nightmare. Nightmares are always trickier.”

“Hoseok,” you swallow, recognizing your captain for who he truly was. You look down at your bloodied torn jumpsuit, the space station that looks and smells and feels so real. “How can I alter this? How can I help him?”

“Use your imagination.”

You step closer to your fallen repair officer and where you stand the closest of his alien appendages unwrap themselves around him and slither over your feet.

They travel up your calves, more and more, reaching your thighs. “Two endings, y/n!” Hoseok hastens, “You need to pick one. There’s one working pod left and I know where it is-”

But you’ve already chosen, you could not inflict such horribleness even towards just a likeness of your ex-lover. “No.”

Hoseok grinds his teeth.

The tentacles are slithering, pulling, reaching for more and more skin, fully wrapped around you once again, lifting your body up to fully gain control.

It’s just a nightmare. You can’t be truly hurt. You won’t really end up spawning some freak alien lifeform, that’s all you have to remember. It’s just a nightmare and you’ll wake up soon. So you try to let yourself relax. The way the slimy appendages slide over your body isn’t terrible, the suctioning tentacles massage your muscles in ways you’ve never experienced. It's just a dream.

Hoseok clenches his fist, rolling his eyes, annoyed with your choice. Yeah, it’s just a dream, it’s not reality, you’re being a fool imposing principles that mean nothing here!

Hoseok sighs, pulling a tentacle off your shoulder, cutting the tip off. The rest shake, moving your body into another position, pulling your limbs out.

Hoseok bites into the cut alien limb, his eyes changing color to a deep glowing green. “W-What are y-you doing?” you groan, gasping as the appendages coil around your body

Hoseok shrugs, “changing the parameters.” He unzips his jumpsuit. “Min, get off, she’s mine.”

Tentacles press Yoongi’s back upward until he’s sitting. He catches himself before falling forward, nails digging into the sleek metal flooring, fighting to stay conscious. “I don’t k-know how- It h-hurts!” Yoongi screams, folding his body into himself, gripping his head and his alien appendages take you higher away from the quarrelling duo.

The muscles around you are too strong, there’s no room for movement, you are pushed and pulled, limbs moving only where they want.

Hoseok attacks the parasitic tentacles with his own, and you drop, caught by one of his many appendages wrapping itself around your torso.

You wince, holding onto the tentacle, “Is h-he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s just fine.” Hoseok breathes, winded. The rest of the alien life form slinks away from its first host and attaches itself to Hoseok instead. Tremendous power courses through the dream walker as he becomes the host.

He laughs lowly. “In fact,” he tilts his head to the side, gesturing you to look at the empty space on the ground, “looks like he chose ‘escape.’” You watch the last of Yoongi’s shadows disappear as he hurriedly stumbles towards the escape pods. At least one of you will make it, you think disappointedly as a familiar feeling clenches in the pit of your heart.

You bring your fist down on the slimy tentacle as it pulls you closer, alone with the dream walker again, just how Hoseok liked it.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Hoseok tsks. “You know, y/n…sleeping is as inevitable as breathing. You can hold your breath all you want, but eventually,” Hoseok looks up at you as you are lowered, “you’ll need air.” You’re held upside down, being brought right to him by the alien appendages, so close you can feel his hot breath when he exhales, You’re both reminded of when you first met. He cocks his head to the side, smiling. “Hi.”

“None of this is real, it’s just a dream.” You tell yourself, imagining you weren’t in this horrible space nightmare. Instead you wished to be in a beautiful spring field, bright and sunny. And you were hanging upside down from a tree instead, Hoseok didn’t have green glowing eyes or monstrous limbs, he was just a sweet lover with soft brown hair and friendly eyes.

For a second you believed it, believed the flashing images of pastel pink and yellow, the light blue butterflies around you, but then it all flashed back to the nightmare. The spring daylight went back to being a revolting dark yellow blood bath, the wind was no longer cooling your skin, you were sticky and sweaty and tired, the butterflies were replaced with scattered drops of blood.

“So close,” Hoseok murmurs.

“It’s just a dream!” you yell, even when you feel like your bones are on the brink of breaking as Hoseok coils himself tighter around your stomach. It’s just a dream, why does it have to feel so real?! So painful?! So hopeless?!

He lets you go and drops you on the ground. “Come on! Wouldn’t you rather it be me instead?”

“What makes you think I want you instead?” you argue.

Hoseok laughs, appendages slithering close to your limbs. “You don’t? You don’t think about our night in Cairo? Or that time in the airplane bathroom? The Grand Canyon? That quaint church festival? Our lovely wedding night? The dressing room? Ahh that was my favorite.” He lists off a series of dreams you had found each other in, fantasies that made you hot all over just remembering what you’ve done.

Your tactical knife finds its way into your hands as you desperately think of a way to wake yourself up, turning the tip in towards you.

Tentacles wrap themselves instantaneously around your wrists before you could pierce the dagger into yourself, pulling your arms up over your head.

“It’s just a dream, right?” he turns his head, holding his hand in front of his face, and one alien appendage slithers up his forearm and into his palm. He inspects it, becoming more in tune with its movements. “It’s just a dream, so you don’t have to feel bad for giving in.” He steps one pace closer to you.

His tentacles unravel around you and most disappear into his back. One tentacle pokes at your arm, making you flinch, the tip wraps around your hand, lifting it up almost as if it were trying to hold your hand. You squeeze it as it slithers back down your arm, looking down to watch it slowly move up again. You don’t see the small ticks Hoseok does at your actions, the way he cracks his neck, furrowing his brow. Three nights, it’s been three nights without you, yet he tries to be patient.

He takes one last step so he can trace down the line of your jaw. Securing his hand to the back of your neck, he guides your head closer, ghosting over your lips.

It’s just a dream, you think, so why does it have to feel so real…so painful… There’s a stinging in your heart, clashing feelings rumbling inside you like a storm.

The station rumbles to life as a pod deploys. You exhale defeatedly.

“Will it make you feel better to know he took the wrong one?”

So cosmic justice exists in this space dream, you think. You wonder what that means for the man in front of you then, entering into the shadows as the lights flicker and dim even darker until only his outline remains, a creature of man and beast.

His eyes glow greener, two luring orbs amongst the shifting shadows. He must be smiling, he always does, he has to be. You have to find out for yourself, you have to see Hoseok’s smile again...so you take a step closer, and another step, and another…into the shadows.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a voice behind you asks.

Reaching the space station's wall with nowhere else to go, you peeked out a small circle window, watching the vast galaxies of light twinkling against the nothingness of space. It makes you feel so small and worthless.

You unzip the front of your jumpsuit, pulling your arms free until it lays around your hips.

“Hoseok?”

“Hmm?”

“My favorite was Club More.” You remember it so well you can hear the club music start to blast, the bass rattling the broken space equipment. Hoseok smirks. You were starting to imagine.

His tentacles wrap around your body like the red rope he used on you at Club More, bounding your wrists together behind you and lifting you easily off the ground.

His hand runs along your palm until your fingertips touch and he interlaces your hands together. “Oh, your heart is racing,” he can feel your pulse in your wrists, “can’t wait to fuck me, y/n?” Hoseok places his hand on your forehead, pulling your head back so you can rest your neck on his shoulder. He kisses your neck tenderly, only one soft kiss while tentacles tear your last shreds of clothes off.

“You want to know why? Because unlike that,” he gestures his head towards the spot of blood where Yoongi had laid, “I know exactly how you like to be fucked.” He finishes the sentence as one large tentacle slides between your legs, entering you until you’re filled entirely. He lets your hand go to replace it with his dick, rolling his hips forward into your open palm.

“I know exactly what to do,” he kisses you softly again on the jaw this time, so close to your mouth as the slippery appendage pulls out and fills you full again, making you gasp and shiver, “to make you scream,” he says as a smaller tentacle wiggles itself into your other hole, tentacles wrap themselves around your breasts, suctions latching onto your sensitive nipples, making you scream in pleasure. “Tell me to stop if I’m wrong?”

You shudder, gasping, moaning, unable to keep your walls from clenching around the slippery appendage, wanting movement. Hoseok moves your body so you’re spread open in front of him, ass in the air. He pumps himself watching the tentacles tease you, roll over you clit, suctioning themselves to your sensitive nerves. You’re used to being knocked forward when hips smack into yours, not this, the weightlessness and complete submission of your body, kept still while Hoseok fills all your holes.

Tentacles slither around one of your ankles, opening your wider, pulling your leg up. Your arms stay secure around your back and it reminds you of the position Hoseok’s dom persona put you in at Club More. What's left of the yellow light turns to red.

The alien appendages move faster inside you, swelling in preparation for release. You feel lightheaded from all the pleasure inflicted on every part of your body, closing in on your climax as well. Your filled, pumped full of alien seed. The alien appendage inside your pussy pulls away only to be replaced with Hoseok’s slim fingers, pushing the escaping cum back inside you. It was Hoseok’s turn to fill you with his dick, plugging you full as he drags you closer to him.

Hoseok grabs the swell of your ass, watching it jiggle as you meet his hips over and over again, being dragged back and forth on his dick by alien appendages.

“Oh fuck, Hoseok, fu-uckk!”

“You make the perfect cumslut, unghh, going to fill your pussy with my cum. That’s what you want, slut?—fuck—I’ll give it all to you.”

Hoseok releases deep inside you, yelling, his cock pulsating as you both reach your high together. You feel floating, weightless. Hoseok’s heel lifts off the ship’s ground from the vertigo of your orgasms. Tentacles unravel but you stay suspended.

Floating in deep space, it’s just you and Hoseok.

---

“My colleague says this place is one of the best in the country, don’t be nervous,” Namjoon smiles, hugging you close. “Want me to go inside with you? I don’t mind waiting.”

You stand outside of a sleep clinic, hoping to figure out what was wrong with you, or at least how to manage your predicament. You had started to fixate on your dreams, it was becoming impossible to escape thoughts of your dream man, even day dreaming about him and then thinking about him throughout the day. Your dreams were so hyper-realistic, you could feel your body still reacting hours later.

“I don’t want you to miss class.”

“Ahh they’ll be fine,” he kisses your forehead.

“Okay, yeah, stay,” you smile. You walk inside hand-in-hand.

The receptionist calls your name. He smiles brightly at you, explaining how to fill out new patient forms. “Hey professor Kim!” He greets your boyfriend and they talk while you complete each question, being vague in your answers, embarrassed having to explain your issues.

“Do you want me to come in the room with you?”

“No,” you force a smile. There was no way you could talk about your dreams with Namjoon there. “It’s okay, it looks like you got a fan,” you tease, gesturing to the receptionist who seems like he’s itching to ask the humanities professor another question.

Namjoon chuckles, pecking your lips. “I love you, baby.”

---

“Nice to meet you, I'm the sleep specialist assigned to your case.”

Jimin walks in, looking through your chart. “So what brings you in? I see you listed you are having night terrors and reoccurring dreams, and that you’re feeling short of breath and other physical reactions when waking up. Can you go into more detail? Is this a recent development?” Jimin clasps his hands in his lap, giving you an encouraging smile. He has a soft calming presence that helps you open up.

“Yes…” You explain to Jimin how you have been dreaming about the same man, someone you’ve never met before, that you can see how that might not be a big deal for some people, but for you, it’s like you’re being haunted. You feel like you’re going crazy, like your mind is working against you, and it’s affecting your everyday life. You can’t take it anymore!

“Did you know a person sees an average of 3 million faces in their lifetime? Even if you don’t remember, your subconscious mind can piece together features and create a whole new ‘face.’ There was a study that found dreamers around the world have experienced seeing the same ‘face’ of a man in their dreams because of this phenomenon,” he flips through pages, pulling out a black and white drawing, “Does he look familiar?” It doesn’t look anything like your dream man, however. You shake your head no. Jimin smiles then asks you questions about your diet, your sleep schedule, your stressors and fears.

“I would like you to come back to do a sleep monitoring session with us. When are you fre-”

“As soon as possible!”

Jimin smiles, “That’s usually the answer we get. Our tech is going to come in and prep you while I check with our receptionist about our next available slot, and then we’ll run some brain scans and a few other tests, how’s that?”

“Okay,” you smile. “Sounds great.”

You’re glad you listened to Namjoon, the sleep specialist was so kind and understanding. He didn’t push you to reveal anything you were uncomfortable with and listened diligently. You are hopeful you’ll finally get answers that will help you.

“Hello, I’m here to prep you!” You turn around and the tech sees- “Oh shit.” -your petrified face.

Hoseok had seen you with bright colored hair, in ball gown dresses, in jumpsuits with your hair short, in braids down to the floor and leather wrapped around your body, he’s seen you skinnier, heavier, younger, older, all the ways you imagined yourself, but he’s never seen you like this before. The small scars and imperfections of your features you choose to forget, bare faced with your natural hair, so very very real and alive.

Hoseok stood before you, in the same white coat as Jimin, looking like a version of himself you’ve never seen before, looking scared.

He grabs your chart quickly while you stay frozen in shock whispering the faintest “no.”

He finishes reading the chart, looking back up with you, mirroring your shocked state. Could he get away with pretending he doesn’t know you? Something about the way you look like you’re a second away from screaming says no.

“I’m just here to place these on you,” he whispers hastily and holds out the sticky electrode pads.

“I’m dreaming?” is all you can think to say. Are you ever going to wake up from this nightmare?

“Take a deep breath,” Hoseok says worriedly, looking around the small room and spotting a camera in the far corner, “Calm down.” His words only make you start hyperventilating. The tech cautiously moves towards you and you jump off the medical table, backing yourself into a corner. “I-I’ll put these on you and then I will leave right out that door, it will take only a couple of minutes-” but you’re not listening to Hoseok, your eyes are fixated on his nametag, ‘JACK.’

Hoseok looks down, sighing. He used the name Jack at work because it was easier to read and pronounce, especially when many of their clientele were children.

Maybe he can salvage the situation after all. “All these wires and needles can be scary, right? You’ll be fine, it’s okay to be nervous.” He moves closer to you. “I have to place these on your temples and chest, okay? It will be quick,” he reassures.

You stay still as he takes an alcohol wipe and gently wipes your temples, placing the electrode pads on each side. Standing next to you, you notice you are both closer in height now, how he looks thinner, softer in features.

You inhale a shuddering breath when he adjusts the collar of your shirt to wipe on top of your breast. Hoseok’s hands shake a little, he holds his breath, trying not to think about how he can smell your perfume, or was it shampoo? How he knows what your skin really feels like now, soft as he imagined. He tries to memorize your real face, your real lips, the shade of your real eyes, and can’t help himself from leaning a little closer when he inhales again.

“Hoseok?” He keeps his eyes trained down, watching your chest rise and fall as he places the last electrode.

“Who?”

You’re in a dream, right? This man obviously knows who you are, you think. Are you really dreaming? So why is Hoseok acting like this?! If you’re not dreaming, you don’t even want to think about it, because if you’re not dreaming, then what is he?!

“If you sit back down I can take some blood samples,” he says softly.

You dig your nails into your palm and it hurts. Why does it feel so real? So painful? Hoseok looks timid, laughing awkwardly to ease the tense silence. He’s never acted like this before. Why do you feel so hopeful…

You look around the room. “This is another dream, isn’t it? You’re messing with me again, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry Miss, I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he glances over to the security camera again, making you glance too.

If you attack him and this is not a dream, you will probably be committed into a mental institution on the spot, and you can’t let that happen, not with your sweet boyfriend in the waiting room, waiting for you.

You let Hoseok draw your blood, he works quickly and silently. You retrace your steps, every action that happened before coming into this room. It couldn’t all be in your head, right? This doesn’t feel like a dream. Is it a dream? Is it?!

“All done,” Hoseok smiles. His smile is warm and friendly. His smile is so different, and yet, it’s Hoseok’s smile. It’s the smile that haunted your dreams. You reach out, gripping his arm before he turns away.

The door swings open and Jimin walks back in. Hoseok steps hastily away from you and you shut your legs instinctively.

“Oh, erm, I thought you had already finished, sorry. Is everything okay?” Jimin looks between you and Hoseok and the obvious tense atmosphere hanging between you.

“Everything is fine, she’s ready,” Hoseok says quickly exiting the room.

“Oh! Hoseok, her chart!” Jimin holds out his arm, and Hoseok hands over your chart to him. “Thanks.”

You meet Hoseok’s wide eyes with your own.

“So we couldn’t get you in tonight, but good news! There’s an opening tomorrow night.” Jimin says cheerfully.

“Right, that’s great,” you manage to blurt out.

“Okay, follow me!” he chirps.

You follow Jimin out into the hall, passing Hoseok who watches you leave. You pretend not to notice him, keeping your eyes straight forward, and Hoseok knows he’s really fucked.

That night, Hoseok never entered your dreams, but that didn’t stop you from dreaming about him.

---

Namjoon drops you off at the clinic the next night, kissing you goodbye. “When I pick you up tomorrow, let’s go out for breakfast, okay?”

You giggle, nodding. “I love you.”

“I love you too!” he calls out before driving away. No, this can't be a dream, you think, watching your boyfriend hit the curb with his car. But if it is, you never want it to end.

You meet Jimin in a larger room. It’s decorated nicely, far less clinical than the first day. “Your brain scans came back normal which is great news! Sometimes nightmares and hallucinations can be caused by tumors or other physical issues but your blood work came back perfect as well. Your blood pressure is a little high,” Jimin warns, “It could be due to how much stress you’ve been under, but just in case I recommend lowering your salt and sugar intake.”

“Got it,” you say wearily.

“We want you to be comfortable, there’s a bathroom so you can change. We will be monitoring you through camera as well as monitoring your brain activity with this machine. Once you’re ready, just let us know and we’ll finish setting everything up. Take as much time as you need, we’ll be here all night!” Jimin jokes.

You nod, offering him a timid smile. “W-We?”

“Yes, me and my associate,” Jimin smiles back.

“Jack?”

“Oh, ha, yes, Jack.” Jimin laughs, surprised in your interest for the tech. You swallow hard. After leaving the clinic you had spent all day wondering if you had really gone off the deep end, and decided to see this through and find out for yourself what the hell was going on.

You changed into pajama pants and Namjoon’s old tshirt. You sit on the bed, pulling the material up to smell the front, letting his scent calm you. Namjoon smelled like pine and woods, nothing like Hoseok, whose smell reminded you of citrus and vanilla. Why were you comparing them? You shake away the thoughts, motioning at the camera that you were ready.

You sit up in bed pulling the sheets up higher when Hoseok walks in.

“W-What are you doing here?”

“I have to put these on again,” he says softly, holding up the electrode pads.

That’s not what you meant. So he did not have all the right answers here. You bite your tongue as he begins setting up the sleep monitor.

“What are you?” you hiss under your breath.

Hoseok clenches his jaw, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re ruining my life,” you whisper, “and you’re just going to act like we’ve never met-”

“We have never met,” he hisses back.

“Stay away from me! I don’t know how you did it, but don’t ever go into my dreams again!” you whisper, getting louder and louder with each word.

“Stay calm!” Hoseok whispers, pressing on your shoulder to lay you back down. “I’m about to put a heart rate monitor on you.”

“Why me?” you grit out. “I deserve to know! Why me?!” you repeat, losing your temper.

Hoseok crosses his arms looking away, breaking the helpful exterior he had up until now. “Your dreams were the loudest.”

---

You’re running.

Running down a long cavernous corridor.

You’re running, winded, falling over rocks.

Running, running, running.

A loud gurgling monstrous noise resounds behind you. You're running, escaping before you are caught in its clutches.

The monstrous noise roars, causing the ground to quake with each of its loud steps. The cave walls shake, dropping sand and dirt around you.

Your legs ache, your lungs burn, your chest feels heavy. You keep running.

Suddenly, a body crashes into yours. The mad scientist who created the monster and you fall over. His white coat is covered in blood and dirt, hair wild, glasses broken. Another man falls over your bodies, pulling you both up. “Get up!”

“This way!” the mad scientist yells as your group encounters a fork in the tunnel, motioning down the left way.

“Y/n, wait! Don’t trust him,” Jungkook, the scientist’s assistant, pulls you back. “This is all your fault!” He addresses his boss, Doctor Jimin Park, the scientist who created a monster. Jimin had let the monster become too powerful, wanting the testing to continue, and now, the beast had escaped and was coming for you all.

“I didn’t know this would happen!” he pleads, “We don’t have time for this!”

The cave tunnels are dark, dusty. As the rocks shake it feels like the walls are closing in on you, slowly suffocating you. It’s true, you didn’t have time to argue, the monster was almost there.

You run with Jungkook down the right side of the fork instead.

“She’s having another nightmare, she went into REM again fast,” Jimin whistles, going over the data, pulling up your brain activity, monitoring your oxygen levels and breathing, your escalating heart rate, “Look at those spikes,” Jimin annotates the readings. Hoseok nods, tenser than usual. “Hey, what’s up with you?” Jimin turns to his roommate, “Do you two know each other?”

“No!” Hoseok says defensively, “I’ve never met her in my life!”

Jimin raises his eyebrow at his roommate and long time friend. “My mistake,” he goes back to studying the readings, not bringing up the fact that he knows Hoseok switched shifts tonight. “She has a boyfriend.” he says offhandedly.

“I didn’t ask,” Hoseok mutters, side eyeing his roommate. “You got this? I’m going to take a nap.”

You and Jungkook ran until you found a door, falling into a bright white room. The door closes shut and locks behind you.

“What the hell?!” Jungkook yells, banging on the door, yanking on the handle with no luck.

You try to catch your breath, hands on your knees as Jungkook tries with all his might to break down the door.

Bright blue smoke fills the room, slowly at first, pooling at your feet until it covers every inch of the room. You have no choice but to inhale the gaseous substance into your lungs.

You and Jungkook cough and drop to your knees. And when the smoke clears, it still feels like you’re choking on smoke, your skin feels hot, burning. Your muscles become tense, your body jittery. You curl up into a ball as you lie on the floor, trying to catch your breath to stop the room from spinning.

A calm clinical voice talks from a loudspeaker. “Experiment six-hundred and thirteen B. Trial one.”

You still feel hot despite the cold air around you. Your clothes feel too tight, too scratchy, and you want to rip them off you. You groan, hugging your knees. Why does it feel like your skin is crawling?

Your mouth is salivating, every part of you feels hot and sensitive, you pull on your blouse, rubbing your sore sensitive nipples, whimpering. The rings around your fingers even feel constricting, and you pull them off hastily, throwing them far away from you.

You turn over on your back, trying to find some relief to relax your tense muscles, rubbing your legs together to stop the throbbing, unable to think of anything else other than release.

Jungkook is fairing no better, yelling in pain, fist hitting the ground over and over to distract how tight his stomach feels, the stinging ache in his balls, how painfully erect he is. He pulls his shirt off, ripping the buttons, unable to take touching the offending garment any longer. His hand grazes his cock and he breathes harshly through clenched teeth, groaning in agony.

The deep grunts coming from Jungkook are driving you crazy, you can’t help but clench down, crying out in frustration. You pull your blouse off, “J-Jungkook…” you pant, turn over on your stomach feebly reaching for your bra, giving up to reach in between your legs instead.

His name leaving your lips in a soft moan makes Jungkook’s dick throb painfully in the confines of his pants. He’s going to die if he doesn’t do something, he’s going to lose his mind if he doesn’t fuck you. He undoes his pants, pulling down his boxers, anything to relieve the ache inside of him. “Y/n..”

You whimper, letting out a frustrated cry. He sounds so fucking hot, so sexy, you need him, you want him, you’re going to die if you can’t have him. You reach out an arm, searching. Where is he? Where is he?!

“Jungkook” you moan, whimpering, writhing, “Jungkook! Please, p-please-” You fuck your fingers, your thoughts consumed with Jungkook’s body, his deep voice, his muscles, his lips, everything about him.

Jungkook lifts his head, finding you, your legs spread open, head thrown back, moaning his name and he feels his last shreds of sanity slipping away. He wants to fuck you, breed you, make you his. He leans on his arms, pumping his cock, but it’s not good enough, he needs you. Giving into his urges, he pushes himself up.

Jungkook drops over you, kissing you hungrily, devouring your cries, tasting your lips, your mouth, swallowing your moans and your spit, getting impossibly harder. He rips off your bra, your skirt, your underwear, taking the torn fabric and burying his face in it, moaning as he inhales, completely feral for you.

You open your legs wide for him, mewling, crying, pussy soaked and desperate for his cock.

He thrusts in, his pace erratic, coming after only a few strokes, however he doesn’t stop, he pistons into you wildly, needing to come more, to fill you up, fill every hole.

You pulse around him, screaming, lost in pleasure, lost in Jungkook, coming hard around his thick cock. This is what you want, to be fucked until you can’t. Neither of you notice the bright red smoke filling up the room, passing out in each other's arms.

“Experiment six-hundred and thirteen B. Trial eight.” The clinical voice wakes you up. Your body is sore, sticky, covered in hickeys and love bites. Jungkook stirs, his head rolling to the side on your thigh.

What happened? You look around, remembering.

Wait a minute, you know what this is-

You look at the clinical walls, reminding you of the walls at the sleep clinic. Jungkook, the buff receptionist who took down your information, is the man between your legs. Oh fuck. This is not real. ‘You are dreaming, y/n. You’re in a dream.’ Bright blue smoke fills the room again.

“Want my help?” The intercom voice crackles again, but this time it is not the clinical monotone voice.

“I told you not to come into my dreams anymore,” you groan, unable to stop your trembles as Jungkook buries his face deeper between your legs. You felt numb and burning all at once, pleasure prickling your body like needles, your core pulsing, throbbing, slicing your insides in horrible ecstasy until you can’t take it any longer…you need more.

You no longer can remember why you were upset as lust overtakes you like a wave. You scream in orgasm, clawing at your companion.

Hoseok clicks the intercom off, leaning back in his office chair, watching you behind a one way mirror, currently bouncing off his colleague’s cock, your bodies glistening. Hoseok watches you ride Jungkook's cock, moaning wantonly, his own dick painfully erect in his pants at the sight.

Now that you knew, what is he going to do now? Did Hoseok want to admit to you he couldn’t help himself, even after meeting you? Your dreams were always so entertaining. Your fantasies were wild, depraved, thrilling, addicting to experience. He liked it. Hoseok was addicted even if he did not want to admit it.

Hoseok grabs his cock, getting lost in the show in front of him, then comes to his senses, sitting upright. He runs both hands through his hair, finding composure to continue and clicks the switch on again, “You’re relying too much on what your dream is telling you. Let it be the other way around, that gas could be laughing gas, or shrinking gas, or smoke filtering in from a barbecue going on in another room, you can make it whatever you want to be.”

“Are you even listening to me?!” he yells, hot in the face as he watches you.

You’re listening to Hoseok but you’re not hearing him. Hoseok watches Jungkook ravage you, choking you with his cock, which he thinks is way too long to be Jungkook’s if he’s being honest. Annoyance twists at the pit of his stomach. So what if he intervenes? It was all just a dream, as you loved to remind him.

You shake, orgasming again. Hoseok steps behind Jungkook, pulling out a tranquilizer, sedating his dream colleague.

Jungkook drops, and you whine, aching to be filled again. Your foot runs up Hoseok’s leg, searching for his crotch. “Hoseok?” you whine out “Hoseok...fuck me, Hoseok!”

Tempting, however, Hoseok really needed to talk to you with a clear head.

He pulls on your ankle, and for a brief moment you feel weightless.

Your hazy mind clears again and you look up taking in your surroundings. You were in a bright red and pink room with neon blue and red lights everywhere, on a heart shaped bed.

“Love motel. Really?” you ask the dream walker, the affects of the smoke completely subsiding in the red room.

“It was the quickest way to get you out of there, using an aspect of your dream and modifying it.” Hoseok says pointedly. “I was improvising!”

Hoseok was in bell bottoms, a tight bright blue collared shirt and jet black styled hair. And you were in a tight light blue babydoll dress…with no underwear…

“I told you not to go into my dreams!” You press your legs together, embarrassed at the wetness still pooling at your core.

“How do you know it’s really me?” Hoseok muses, “Maybe you’re just dreaming me up?”

Your eyes narrow on the dream walker, you try to picture him as a llama, or turn him into a bug, a shoe, a dead man.

Hoseok sighs, undoing his sleeve cuffs and the last few fastened buttons of his shirt, attempting to lessen the uncomfortable confined energy he is beginning to feel in the small love room.

“I-I have a boyfriend!” Ahh yes, Hoseok saw the man who had dropped you off at the clinic. “You, here, it’s wrong! No, no this is worse, I thought you were just a bad dream, but if you’re really here, if this is you…you’re evil!”

“It’s not that serious,” Hoseok rolls his eyes.

“It’s my life! And you’re poisoning my mind!”

“You’re not giving yourself enough credit,” he says sarcastically, “I really haven’t altered your dreams that much. I only work with what I got, darling.”

“Why don’t you go fuck a real woman and not me! Pervert!” The neon lights turn yellow and green instead in Hoseok’s irritation and anger.

“Do you not remember how you begged me, got on your knees for me?”

“It wasn’t real-I-I didn’t know-”

“So now it doesn’t count? Did that little fuck session with our receptionist count or not count too? I’m a little confused. So tell me what is it, am I a pervert, are you a cheater?”

“Y-You used me-”

“I brought us here, but I didn’t create that,” he looks over to the whips and chains across the walls. “It's your mind filling in the room, y/n. So don't blame me! You’re such a twisted little thing, such a dirty slut. Too scared to let your boyfriend know what a kinky girl you are, is that it?”

“Fuck you.”

“You know, I could enter his dreams, find out all his dirty little secrets too.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you scream and the room’s entire foundation shakes.

“You're getting boring, a pain, why should I stay? I would love to know what makes your boyfriend so perfect in your eyes. Yeah I think I'll go do that, and you can stay here, chained. All alone.”

You look down at your feet, leather straps tightly secured around your ankles as he walks away from you.

You reach for your legs and cry out when you find chains tight around your wrists, “No...” You wish Hoseok wouldn't leave-

The door suddenly disappears.

Hoseok waves a hand and creates another door. He smiles over his shoulder, glaring at you, but when he opens it a concrete wall appears. Sighing, he makes another door, walks into it and-

-right back into the love motel.

Hoseok raises an eyebrow. “I would stop that if I were you. You don't want to be trapped in here with me.” Hoseok warns, over your accusations and your annoying actions. “I could make you question every part of your existence, every boundary of your mind, every truth you know.”

Over dramatic ass, you grind your teeth and think of the Hoseok you met. You weren’t scared of him, he wasn’t intimidating, he was weak.

Hoseok rolls his shoulders, looking down at his clothes, back in his white lab coat. He scoffs and then breaks out into laughter. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The chains tighten and begin pulling you down into the heart bed, harder and harder, it feels like the bed is...beating. Hoseok stands over you, tilting his head as you struggle.

You scream, your limbs feel like they’re separating, elongating, like ribbons. Your whole body feels like it’s unraveling like a bow being pulled open, like you’re no longer human, everything stretching and thinning out, thousands of red ribbons, threads of your sanity, splitting. Hoseok sinks into the bed, and blood spurts out from underneath the covers with each beat. He sinks lower, lying over you, his body melting into yours until you feel him everywhere inside you. If you could scream, you would be shrieking.

---

Your scream is so piercing it wakes Hoseok too, napping two rooms away.

“It’s okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.”

Jimin drops the smelling salts he used on you as you shake in his arms. Your heart rate had become dangerously high and you were tossing and turning erratically.

He rubs your back soothingly. He knew Hoseok lied to him and now he has proof, you moaning his name softly on video. But why would he lie? Jimin will worry about that later, his attention was solely on calming you down.

Jimin checks your vitals, going over every note he took until the sun starts to rise while you lie staring blankly at the ceiling. “You’re tired. How do you feel about trying to sleep again? I’ll be right here, ready to wake you.”

You nod drowsily, clutching a pillow. “Jimin,” you mumble, your tired body falling into sleep. “Hoseok is the monster.”

Jimin looks over to the mirror, knowing behind the one-way glass the tech is probably watching. He pats your head, standing up.

“How is she?”

“Well, her heart rate jumped to 160,” Jimin runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Her sleep cycle is all over the place. Look, once she entered REM her vitals skyrocketed–she might just be a sound sleeper–but it took smelling salts to wake her.” Hoseok hums, looking over your sleep chart, figuring out the point on the chart where he entered your dreams and studying the data. “You look like hell, did you not just take a nap?” Jimin laughs.

Hoseok rubs the back of his neck, shrugging. “Think it’s serious, what’s wrong with her?”

“You’ve never been so interested in a patient,” Jimin teases, “Is she an ex or something? You can tell me-”

“No!” Hoseok smacks the giggling sleep specialist, “I can’t be worried for a patient?”

When you wake up, Jimin is ready with juice and breakfast toast and a sleep chart for you.

“This is a normal sleep chart,” he shows you a chart with distinct hills and valleys. “There are five stages of sleeping.” He follows the deescalating line. “Stage one is dreaming, stage two and three are light sleep, and stage four and five are deep sleep. What we are most concerned with is your dreaming, REM stage. Normally, you would go into REM, then enter into the light and deep stages of sleeping.” His finger starts traveling upwards along the path of the line, “Then you go back to stage four, three, two, and one, you re-enter REM again,” he smiles. “Normally one would go through around five cycles of this, but you-” he flips the chart over, “This is your chart, your first wave is normal, then here, it’s like you entered the second stage of REM and never left. Your brain waves however,” Jimin pulls out another confusing diagram. “Here you have large waves usually congruent to deep sleep, your vitals should be slowing down but they don’t. Somehow you are still dreaming.”

“Is there, um, ways to make myself not dream?”

“It might not feel like it right now but dreaming is a necessary part of sleeping. People sometimes view REM as the final stage of sleeping but if you see, like I explained, it’s actually the first. You can’t really avoid it,” he says softly. You want to cry.

Jimin suggests certain things to relax you while sleeping, oils, sounds, exercise before bed or a warm bath. He didn’t want to discuss any medications yet, confident dream therapy will be a better avenue.

But you know none of those things will really help you. Not when Hoseok is there, his back to you now, clearing away the equipment.

Jimin schedules another sleep session. You smile and thank Jimin, he really did give you the tools to help yourself, unknowingly. There was a way to cure you, you just had to be brave enough to do something about it.

Jimin releases you for the day. However, you don’t leave the clinic, instead you slip inside an empty room. “Hey Joonie, they said they have to perform some more tests. Sleep in, baby, I should be done before lunchtime. I love you,” you whisper, leaving a voicemail for your boyfriend.

You wait, watching through the creek in the door, until you see the answer (and cause) of all your problems.

Hoseok sits on his small employee sleep cot cracking his knuckles. He’s more tired now that you’re so resistant. Maybe he should just move on, he thinks, he should just enter another dream world, a dreamer who did not irritate him as much, who did have the gall to blame Hoseok for her own illicit thoughts, who did not consume him so, the way you were beginning to.

Hoseok never felt particularly guilty for the chaos he caused while dreaming, but reading over your answers and how you described your ‘night terrors,’ and how you couldn’t distinguish your dreams from reality…

How ridiculous. Dreams were wonderful, but once awake, the fabrication of the Dreamworld was exposed, dreams never stood up to the test, there was nothing that could compare to the authenticity of the reality, the harshness of it. Dreams just didn’t last forever, Hoseok thinks bitterly.

He couldn’t be affecting you that much, could he? But seeing the evidence so painfully presented across your scared features made him at least begin to wonder…

A soft click pulls him out of his thoughts.

He sits up abruptly, staring at you. Awake he had no powers, he couldn’t just will things to be, make the exact thing he needed to come appear before him. He couldn’t do the things he wanted to do, he couldn’t say the things he wanted to say. So Hoseok did nothing.

He watches you close the door behind you. “You shouldn’t be here-”

“Like you shouldn’t be in my dreams?” you counter.

Hoseok wasn’t like his boisterous dream self in reality, he was cautious, reserved. You sit on the corner of his cot to think. This feels more bizarre than all your dreams combined. “I’ll cancel my next appointment, I’ll tell Mr. Park that I’m better now. I won’t bother you ever again if you promise to leave me and my boyfriend alone.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes. He plays with the sleeves of his coat. You were so close, he could touch you, the real you. He had you right here with him, no costumes, no fake persona, just you and him. You shifted on his cot and he felt his window of time with you escaping, here where time was fractional and always fleeting. A series of clocks on the wall were ticking away the seconds, gone another moment with you. This was supposed to be the last time? How could he agree to such a thing?

“How do you do it?” you whisper softly, as if you were scared to find out the answer. “How is it possible for you to go into my dreams?”

Hoseok scoots backwards until his back meets the clinic wall, stretching out his legs. “I don’t know, I've always been able to do it. I just enter people’s dreams for fun-”

What? “You’ve been doing this because it’s fun for you? Fun?” you hiss, angry tears welling up in your eyes as you yank on his coat, grabbing the lapels of his lab coat in your fists.

He covers your fists with his, holding you to him. Even though Hoseok was not as powerful and imposing as he acted in your dreams, he was still stronger than you. You take a deep breath, ready to scream like a banshee, and Hoseok quickly pounces, covering your mouth before you can yell.

The way you struggled under him twisted his insides. This did not feel good. He struggled trying to hold you down, anxiety and nausea churning in the pit of his stomach as you cried and kicked underneath him while he tried to keep you quiet.

His entire body weight was on you, stealing precious air from your lungs, but as unevenly matched as you were, you were now on a much leveled playing field, Hoseok was becoming winded and you were full of adrenaline.

Your hands began to search for anything to defend yourself with, reaching for his bedside lamp, hitting the blunt end hard across his skull, Hoseok falls forward, dragging you off the small cot and onto the floor.

---

Namjoon pulls his left fist back, seeing an opening, and lands a hard left hook onto the side of Hoseok’s face.

The crowd cheers and you yell, your hands up in the air. The bell rings ending the round just in time and the referee goes over to Hoseok’s beaten body, counting.

Shaken, Hoseok gets up, signaling to the referee he was fine. He moves to his corner of the ring, watching as you towel away the cascading sweat from Namjoon’s head, handing him a water bottle. As he chugs the water, you take a swab and swipe vaseline and antibiotic over his cuts and swab inside his nose, readying Namjoon for the next round.

‘Okay, y/n, if that’s how you want to play,’ Hoseok thinks, smirking, then he sure won’t hold back. He stands up, knocking his gloves together and the crowd goes wild.

You stand up, glaring at him. Namjoon shakes off his fatigue, jumping back and forth. You stand on the bottom rope of the ring and lean over to massage Namjoon’s shoulders, “You got this, baby.”

He smiles, debating on whether to kiss you in front of thousands of screaming fans, but decides to wait, deciding he will kiss you when he wins.

Hoseok stands in the middle of the ring, ready. Head down, his arms defensively up. The bell dings, signaling the next round and the crowd roars, hungry for blood.

Namjoon goes in for a jab and Hoseok blocks. They fight, evenly matched, every punch and block earning another cheer from the crowd. In this dream, the only way the fight will end is with a knockout.

“Go, Joonie, go!” Hoseok lands a hit right into your dream boxer boyfriend’s side, and another, and another, moving quicker than usual, catching a second wind. Hoseok is fast, you’ll give him that, perhaps inhumanly fast. But you knew Namjoon was stronger now that you weren’t willing to back down. You place a hand on the ropes, cheering him on. Namjoon lands a hit on Hoseok's temple, knocking him back. “Yes! Yes! Show him, Joon!” The bell digs again.

You couldn’t help but gloat, walking over to Hoseok’s side. “I thought you were better than this, Hoseok? Feeling the heat? Still want to keep bothering me? I’ll find a way to beat you down every single time, I’m not scared of you anymore.”

Hoseok swishes water in his mouth, spitting up the bloody liquid into a pale. He smiles, bending down closer to the ropes, he softly taps your cheek with his glove. “Shouldn’t you be in your boyfriend’s corner?”

You bite your lip, hoping Namjoon knocks all his teeth out.

The fight bell dings once more and Hoseok lands a solid uppercut, knocking your dream boyfriend back into the corner. The crowd boos, pissing off the dream walker even more. You were getting better at controlling your dreams, but you’ve just started learning, Hoseok has been doing this for years.

He leans his whole body on the ropes, pulling the tension back, and catapults his body into Namjoon, dropping him with a clothesline move to the chest. The crowd cheers louder than ever before.

You look up stunned, gone are the men’s boxing gloves. Hoseok does a dance over Namjoon’s body in tight wrestling pants and a cowboy hat, hair an intense orange color, while the referee slaps the ring floor, counting down. Hoseok waves his hand in the air, calling for more cheers, pacing and dancing around the ring.

“G-Get up! Joon, get up!” Namjoon kicks out of the referee’s count and the match resumes. Namjoon leans on the ropes in pain. His hair is styled in a bright yellow mullet. He wears wrestling shorts, and looks so very unlike your collegiate boyfriend.

You reach up, slapping his hand, tagging yourself in, your coach suit transformed into a tight purple pleather sports bra and pants.

Hoseok smiles wide, securing his cowboy hat and walking around the ring as the bell dings for you, holding his hand out and waving for you to “Bring it!” The crowd loses their collective minds at his performance.

You enter the ring, your adrenaline running high. You kick him in the chest swinging your body into the ropes. You try to put Hoseok in an armlock, but he lifts your body up, holding you in the air tauntingly, egging on the crowd. You twist your body around, securing your arm lock after all, going for a body drop.

You attack, relentlessly punching him. The crowd ooohs and ahhhs, the stadium is electric. Hoseok wraps his arms around your waist lifting your body up. You suspect he’s setting up a suplex so you kick and escape his hold.

Climbing onto the top rope, you raise your hands like a conductor, drawing raucous cheers and chants, and then you jump! Elbow drop!

But Hoseok grabs you midair to the crowd's collective dismay. He pants in your ear, “Enjoying this a little too much, huh? Want to take this somewhere private?” You look over at Namjoon, his body hanging far over the ropes, arm reaching for yours to tag him in. You had completely forgotten about him.

Hoseok uses your distraction to his advantage, throwing you to the mat, pulling your leg up for a pin. You kick out of his hold, stopping the count. The crowd roars your name so loud the sound is deafening. How can you beat him?! If you want to beat the dream walker, you need to start thinking more like him!

He throws you over his shoulder, positioning your body for another suplex, this time a straight vertical, to the ire of the crowd. But this time you’re ready, not with another counter, but with an idea. Your bodies hit the mat, and it bends and warps to accommodate you like a trampoline, bouncing you both into the air, and when you both fall back down, you land soft cushion, a small couch, no, a love seat. The audience claps, cheering.

“Welcome back! Now each of our newlywed couples are tied in points. Whoever gets this right will take the lead!” You push a confused Hoseok away, smoothing down your dress. The crowd giggles at your antics. “Here’s the question! Backstage we told your partner to write down one thing they found most irritating about you. Now, you have to guess what they’ve written down, what’s the one thing you do that just gets right under their skin? Couple number one, go ahead!” He addresses Hoseok.

Your smile brightly, holding the large white sign to your chest as the audience claps.

Hoseok glares at you, then like a light switch, he switches his demeanor into a bubbly television personality perfectly suited for daytime television. He pulls at his shirt collar, making a funny face, “Well, that’s going to be hard to guess, because I just know she finds all my habits irritating.”

The crowd erupts into laughter. “I am gonna have to say,” Hoseok eyes you up and down, “my overactive imagination.”

‘That’s one way to put it,’ you think. Hoseok was dressed as close to his normal self as the dream walker could get, in a nice suit and tie, plain brown hair and a clean cut hairstyle, but all you could see was every single different version of the dream walker smiling back at you, his hair in so many different shades of colors, clothes usually styled extravagantly, sometimes with makeup, sometimes painted nails, sometimes glowing eyes and alien features, and you wondered who was the real Hoseok? Because the man you met at the sleep clinic acted nothing like the man sitting next to you now, who stares back at you in challenge.

“Y/n, turn your card over and let everyone know what you find most annoying about Hoseok!”

You smile at the audience and turn over your card. Scribbled in the center is “too idealistic.”

“‘Too idealistic’ she says! ‘Overactive imagination,’ and ‘idealistic,’ well I’ll tell you what, this couple’s answers are imaginative! What does the audience say, should we give them the point?” The crowd hollers and cheers, securing you a point.

“Couple one takes the lead for now! Now, couple two…”

“What the hell is this…” Hoseok whispers, looking at stage lights and cameras.

“What, you never dreamed about winning a game show before?” you whisper back. Hoseok never dreamed about anything, but if he could, he would definitely not put himself through such an agonizing and cringeworthy experience.

“Next round already, wowza! Now, before we asked what your partners found most irritating about you, this question has to do with what they find most attractive about you! Backstage we asked your partners to write down what they saw as your, ‘best physical feature.’ Couple one, what’s your answer!”

Hoseok crosses his arms, what is this game you’re playing? Are you trying to publicly embarrass him?

“Well, I don’t know if I can say that on air.” Hoseok throws the camera a mischievous smile and the women in the audience giggle.

“Ohoho well, let’s keep it PG now!”

“My body?” Hoseok hums.

“Your smile,” you turn the card around.

“Uh oh, couple three takes the lead!”

Hoseok waits until the camera pans away from you, before dropping his overly cheerful expression. “Was that a lie?”

“Why would I lie, stupid?”

“You little-” Hoseok bites his tongue when the camera pans over to your section.

As other contestants answer the host’s question with a quip of their own, Hoseok places his arm around your waist. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“We’re married here aren’t we, I am putting my arm around my lovely wife,” he sneers.

“Y/n, we asked Hoseok the reason why he chose you, now what do you think he wrote down?”

“I don’t know,” you say softly.

A collective aww falls over the audience. “Aww c'mon, not even a guess? You married him after all!” The host turns his head to the audience and the audience laughs. Hoseok winces, the noises were becoming grating, yet you wait.

“No answer? No? Well, flip that card then.” The host says anxiously, reading aloud Hoseok's answer, “He chose you because you embraced every side of him, even the worst parts, you showed him worlds where he could belong. After learning your fears and desires, he was reminded of his own, and you made him feel not alo-” Hoseok rips the card in half, and everyone goes quiet. “Ah ha ah, we’ll be back right after this commercial-”

Hoseok stands up pushing past staff members dragging you along, going backstage and out the exit door-

The audience stare at the pair of you as you and Hoseok walk through the entrance doors. “Stop it,” Hoseok grits out through clenched teeth.

“The game isn’t over,” you merely say. Hoseok huffs, straightening his jacket and walking back towards the stage with you following right behind him.

The host speaks to the crowd while you take your seats, your hip pressed up against the flustered dream walker. “Hoseok,” you whisper, “I’m trying to get us to work together for once.”

God, you are irritating him. Everything about this cheesy game show is irritating. You think you’re being clever, but he knows you, he knows how to pick apart your dreams and find your hidden weaknesses, your secret wishes. Well, Hoseok has some questions he wants to ask too. He can play part of doting husband if that’s what you truly desire.

“If your partner had one hall pass, what name do you think they would write down. Couple one?”

“Jack.” Hoseok smiles wickedly.

“It’s like he can read my mind,” you laugh unconvincingly, turning your card.

“Now y/n, what is Hoseok’s favorite place to make whoopie?” The crowd ooohs and laughs at the game show host’s scandalous question.

“Oh, well, there’s just so many…” you stutter, embarrassed.

“Don’t overthink it, Darling.”

“Ahh ahh, no helping your partner! We don’t have all day, y/n!”

“The, uhhh, bed?”

Hoseok faces the crowd, smiling sweetly. “Call me old fashioned, but-” he turns the cue card, “-in bed!”

Raucous cheers from the crowd erupt as your point total increases. Hoseok puts his arm around your waist again, hugging you close. With his head on your shoulder and back to the camera he uses the opportunity to whisper in your ear. “You know, this is not the the first time you’ve dreamt of marriage, you remember don’t you? You want to get married, y/n?” Hoseok hugs you deceptively gentle, his words anything but.

“Does it bother you that no one has popped the question yet? How long have you been with that boyfriend of yours?” You stay still in Hoseok’s embrace, unwilling to answer him, but you don’t have to, Hoseok sees the number so clearly indicated on your fallen card. “Four years?” Hoseok tuts, “Oh y/n, take it from a man, if he wanted to ask you, he would have already.”

That wasn’t true, Namjoon was going to ask you, you’ve talked about kids, you’ve talked about growing old together. He was going to ask you…one day, you were sure of it. But the tiny doubting voices in the back of your mind were becoming louder. Namjoon had a good paying job now. He was no longer a teacher’s aid, he had earned a spot as a professor, he could afford a ring now. So why...no, Namjoon was a great boyfriend, he was smart and handsome. Honestly, you felt sometimes he was out of your league. You’re sure people saw it too, like his students…his female students…

As the round goes on, Hoseok keeps his arm around your waist, finger tips inching closer to your center. Couple number three begins to quarrel, Hoseok leans over to kiss your temple. “Y/n,” he whispers into your hair, a teasing sensual tone that has you frozen, trying not to react in front of the studio audience, “I know you’re still not wearing any panties.”

His fingers curl under the hem of your dress. There’s only a small table covering your laps, if anyone were to notice you…

You reach over too, placing your palm directly over his crotch in warning. Hoseok shuts his eyes, tongue rolling over the bottom of his lip.

The crowd laughs at a joke you don’t hear.

Because you’re too busy focusing on the way Hoseok moves his fingers over your sex.

You grip his length, rubbing down his bulge. The host asks Hoseok a question. He ignores it.

And your eyes meet.

The host calls your names again, but you’re too entranced in each other’s stare, working to rile each other up, fighting to see who breaks first.

Hoseok reaches for you, unable to resist any further, pulling you in for a rough needy kiss, moving your body over his lap in front of rolling cameras and a captive studio audience.

“Uhh uhh we’re experiences ahh technical difficulties!”

Hoseok is pulling your bodies over the love seat while the other contestants stand up in shock.

You fall over the love seat and back into a bed. ‘The love motel?’

“Get off!” You stop yourself from groping the dream walker any further, pushing him away, jumping off the red heart bed, another bad dream you did not want to relive.

You run towards the door, yanking it open-

-and run into a pile of sand. There’s sand all around you, a dark night sky with constellations so clear it was like you were floating in space.

Does everything have to remind you of Hoseok?!

You scream as the wind picks up sand.

You hear his familiar laughter before you see him.

You pick up a large handful of sand and chuck it at the dream walker when you turn.

He shakes his head as sand flies off his skin and hair. “Seriously?”

“Yes!” You lunge for the dream walker in your anger. You trip over each other, fighting against strong winds, and you fall backward-

-into water, surrounded by the sea. You kick towards the surface in a slow and agonizing pace, finally reaching the top as you gasp for air.

A small paddle boat rocks back and forth, Hoseok standing with his arms crossed in the center. “When are you going to learn, huh? You can’t beat me, so you might as well be a good girl and play along.”

You grind your teeth, furious. ‘Oh yeah?’ He will see. Who does he think he is? Did he forget these were your dreams? Your rules! The bright blue sky above you turns black, storm clouds roar to life and lightning flashes across the sky.

Hoseok balances himself, looking up towards the chaos ensuing, his small tiny boat rocking erratically in the rough storm waves. Then he takes a running leap off the edge. Jumping right for you.

Water rushes away, and you land with a hard thud on sleek flooring. Stage lights blind you as hushed whispering turns to angry yells. Hoseok lays sprawled over you, hair red like the devil, smiling like one too. He leans down to kiss you, and a thousand cameras flash.

You grip his jacket lapels tight, pulling him off you and you both fall off the stage and waist deep into mud.

“Ugh what kind of dream is this?!” Hoseok yells, disgusted.

Oh it’s one you’re very familiar with. A dream you had when you were young and terrified of the dangers of quicksand, convinced you would some day take a wrong step without looking and end up here. You push Hoseok down deeper into the sinking earth, struggling to move yourself. He yells, the mud turns to tar, the jungle around you turns to buzzing machinery and metal scaffolding as you sink deeper into the blackness. Hoseok was gone under, somewhere still around you, as evidenced by the adapting landscape you were not controlling.

The sparking electronical wiring shifts into vines and you’re neck deep in mud again. Then it turns into yellow sand, caving into itself like the sands of an hourglass. You feel a grip around your ankles, and then you too, slip under.

You fall on soft sand, glass all around you. Thick and soundproof, caging you in a glass prison.

You knock your fist and the hourglass echoes your pleas of freedom.

Hoseok walks over to you, speaking muffled.

“I can’t hear you, you asshole!” You try not to panic in the closed confined space, the hourglass only big enough to hold your crouching figure. You try not to think about the small specs of sand slowly falling into your area from above.

This is your dream, so why can’t you get out of it?! Think, use your imagination! You feel like you’re on the brink of a panic attack as sand begins to cover your legs.

So you start digging deeper, kicking up sand. Until the tips of your fingers hit something hard and metallic. You pull out a key.

There’s no key hole here, no lock, nothing, just sand and tempered glass and Hoseok watching you with a look of satisfaction on his face. So you dig again, and it’s Hoseok who bangs on your prison, rattling glass, his screaming unheard by you.

And then you pull out a box. Just one small gold and red box, ancient symbols carved into its top.

What is this? Could this save you? Before your key meets the lock your glass prison rattles and expands. You cough as sand cascades around you, no longer confined. You weren’t trapped in the hourglass anymore. The hourglass had expanded into a vast desert.

“Stop!”

“Me?! You stop!”

“You’re dreaming recklessly. You’re going to hurt yourself!” he says, reaching for the tiny box. However, you kick up sand, running away, putting the key into the box and turning it.

“No!”

“I alter dreams, that, that is messing with your mind,” Hoseok warns, looking at the unlocked box anxiously.

You look down at the open box. A Pandora's box. What ever was inside is gone now. You reach inside the empty box anyways.

A small tea candle is in the center of your palm.

“What’s this?” Hoseok asks, dressed in black.

“A funeral,” you swallow, “my grandmother, on my mom’s side. She died when I was just a child, I was too young to even understand what that meant. I didn’t understand why my mom wouldn’t stop crying. I just knew what ever it was I didn’t want it to happen to my mother.”

You felt sick, you shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t know this. You don’t remember this. You felt small and little and so unprepared for the grief surrounding you.

“Stay calm,” Hoseok takes your hand in his, steering you away from the mourning crowd. Past headstones, past grave plots. Some were your ancestors, you recognized your mother’s maiden name.

And then you recognize one particular name, stopping, frozen. Your mother was alive, you knew it, and yet devastation still crept into your bones at the sight of the headstone in front of you. It was fear and sadness like you’ve never felt before, such a horribly cold and isolating feeling.

Hoseok grabs you by the shoulders lifting you up. “Come on!”

The more you walk away, the more you fixate on the funeral, the crying, the death all around you. Hoseok pulls you along, stepping over roses littering the ground until there were so many broken flowers he had no choice but to crush the petals. “You need to get yourself together...y/n!” Hoseok was excellent at navigating the worst of nightmares. Fortunately, as long as he got you somewhere safe, it should be okay, he will be able to take control again.

Roses started falling from the sky, their thorns cutting you and Hoseok, their scent become putrid. Now you remember, when you were young and hated that scent. The sickly floral scent of the candles your mother would light every night in remembrance for your grandmother, crying over the small alter.

“Y/n! Hey!” Hoseok shook you, trying to move you, lifting you up into his arms instead, cut roses reaching to his knees, the sharp thorns digging into his calves with step. “Tell me about your first day of school.”

“What?”

“Come on, just tell me,” Hoseok grunts.

“I cried.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t want to leave my mom.”

“But eventually, you stopped, right?”

“Yeah, my teacher, she uhh,” What did she do? “She showed me her bookcase, let me look at a picture book.”

“What book?”

“I-I don’t remember. I think...it was...a book called, When You Give a Mouse A Cookie.”

That, Hoseok could work with. Hundreds of tiny gray little mice started running past the pair of you, collecting the roses in their tiny mouths, making it easier for Hoseok.

“What else do you remember?” he asked, walking with you in his arms.

“There was a bubble.”

“A what now?”

“A-A big plastic bubble in her classroom. We could go inside and read inside of it.”

“Oh, I’ve never heard of anything like that.”

“It w-was my favorite thing to do.” You think back to all the times you played, all the silly make believe games you played in her classroom.

“Okay! I have a plan.” You look at Hoseok, and he smiles confidently back at you, crouching down, a cute gray mouse scurries up your leg and into your lap, dropping a cookie in your hand. It’s such an odd sight. An old fable, a forgotten story, a part of your childhood, sitting wide-eyed, nose twitching and whiskers bobbing. He scurries away, and then Hoseok sets his plan into action, lifting you up quickly, and jumping, throwing you up.

‘Shit, what do I do now?!’ You keep your hands up, afraid to touch anything. Trying not to think about how your body is being held up inside a bubble.

“It was a plastic bubble,” you hiss.

“Well in this dream it’s a real bubble.” Hoseok smirks, next to you in his own bubble. The bubbles touch and conjoin, forming one big floating bubble with you and Hoseok inside.

“Give me the key.”

“I’m not giving you my key! I don’t trust you!”

“I just saved us!”

“You’re the reason why I’m in this mess to begin with!” How long have you been asleep now? You need to escape! Your finger presses into the bubble wall and it pops. And you and Hoseok, with nowhere else to go, fall.

Your stomach lurches into your throat and you can’t even scream, descending faster than you can reason towards the ground.

Hoseok grabs your waist, securing you to him. He didn’t have time to think of the intricacies of a parachute, instead he-

-opens an umbrella.

Hoseok groans, back hitting marble floor.

You’re not dead. You’re alive. Well, you’re asleep technically. But you’re alive. Hoseok took the worst of your fall, situated underneath you. You roll away, your gown cascading around you.

You’re wearing a shimmering pastel gown, long gloves reaching over your elbows, an small gold crown tangled in your hair.

You’re in another dream.

This one, you’ve had before. And Hoseok, right now, was playing the part of your guard. You remember any minute now, the king’s guard will catch the two of you.

“Get up!” You yank Hoseok to his feet, running down palace steps.

There’s faint yelling to stop coming from within the palace, but you and Hoseok are already far away, hidden behind tall garden hedges.

“How are you feeling?” you ask him. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” but he rolls his shoulder and delicately massages his arms.

“Here,” you pull off an apricot from one of the garden trees, handing it to Hoseok. “It has healing properties.”

“Does it now?” he raises an eyebrow, biting into the juicy fruit.

“Yes, my dream, my rules, remember? Follow me!”

You run through the garden maze. If you make it to the center, you have to wake up. You never make it to the center, something always happens to stop your conquest, but this time, you have Hoseok, and this time, you’re going to conquer it.

“There’s going to be a lion past this bush.”

“King of the jungle? Good thing you’re a queen then.” Hoseok touches the crown atop your head, delicately removing the golden jewelry. “Here you go, lion tamer.” he says, handing you a golden bow.

“No, not like this. I don’t want to hurt him, it’s not his fault he is trapped here.” You give it back to him.

“Hmm, okay.” After some thought Hoseok gives you back a large golden collar. “I will distract him,” he winks running out of sight.

The lion roars and you run too. jumping on its back. Fitting the collar around his large mane, transforming him into a tiny tabby.

And you and Hoseok run, exhilarated with a victory under your belts.

“What’s next?”

“From what I remember,” you try to think, “an eagle.” The eagle was easy to figure out, like you it yearned for freedom, to stretch its wings towards the sky. So Hoseok gave him more room, cutting down shrubbery, yanking on vines instead of trying to pass. You made it even easier for the eagle to choose flight over fight, turning the perch it sat upon into a winding stalk to the heavens with a look. The eagle circled the sky high above happily and you and Hoseok were able to move deeper through the maze.

“Watch out!” You scream, but it was too late, vines wrapped around Hoseok, pulling him into the maze’s grassy walls. And you too were captured, the thick vines winding around your legs, your arms, and your torso, making their way around your neck. You could barely see Hoseok through the leaves and branches.

Your old coworker is in this part of the maze. The cocky arrogant jerk who became nothing but a statue where doves would pee on in your dreams. But he was different, the stone cracking and revealing skin, a person, moving and coming closer to you.

“Hey, Tae,” you gasp, “Would you mind?”

You struggle to move your limbs, hearing the dream walker grunt as he tries to free himself as well.

“I would, actually,” he smiles. “You think you’re going to conquer this maze on my watch?”

“You never were a team player.”

“You assigned me this role, didn’t you?” The vines dig into your skin, around your wrists, the vines twist across your body, cutting into the delicate fabric of your dress. “To keep you…distracted, so you’ll never escape.” He presses himself closer to you. You try to free an arm, only able to move your wrist back and forth. Taehyung interlaces your fingers, letting his nose run down the column of your neck while you struggle.

You hear twigs snapping, Hoseok yelling loudly. Up close, you notice Taehyung’s bright left eye, a completely different shade than his warm brown right eye. His right eye was the same shade as the real version of him, but more dazzling, with tiny flecks of gold and green. But his left eye, it was light blue like the sky.

And suddenly you realized where Taehyung came from, where his pedestal must have been placed…at the center of the maze.

You could only move the tiniest bit forward, barely the length of a marble, tilting your head forward. But it was just enough, just enough to meet Taehyung’s cracked stone lips.

You felt your body being pulled into the hedge, tighter and tighter, the day light dimming around you and you panic, kissing him deeper. The statue mirrors your movements, reaching his stony arms inside the hedge to caress your body.

Its working, whatever you’re doing, your arms are free enough to tangle themselves in Taehyung’s ashy grey hair, using his body to pull yourself free.

Taehyung is ripped away from you. Hoseok is covered in twigs, fire in his eyes, tsking.

“His left eye!” you yell, falling back into vines.

Hoseok pulls the large sword sheathed behind his back, “Don’t do this,” Taehyung pleads, “There is another way out, just give me her and I’ll show you.”

Hoseok places the sword over his shoulder, looking down at his guard armor. “No can do, I would be a shit guard if I just handed her over to you without even a fight?” he smirks.

Taehyung bares his perfect teeth in anger, yelling and running towards the dream walker. Hoseok’s sword strikes his stomach, clanging against his stone torso. Taehyung and Hoseok fight as you attempt to free yourself. You thought of fire, hoping to burn the branches away, but the magical vines were not affected, only absorbing the flames, glowing red. So you thought of fireflies, providing you with a trail of light, glowing around the branches like lights on a christmas tree, and then you thought of cold, and the vines around you dried and shriveled, making them easier to tear apart.

“Hoseok!”

An armored glove reaches through the tangled vines, pulling you completely free.

“My...my beautiful face!” Taehyung shrieks, covering his cracked and bloodied eye.

Hoseok holds a small blue marble, throwing it up and catching it again. Hoseok holds it in front of you, as you both peer into the tiny blue orb.

If you look closely enough, you can see swirling with clouds and sky, beautiful shades of blue and lavender, a serene sight that appears all around you and the dream walker.

Your sail boat floats on a purple river. The mast needs turning, you grip the ropes in your hands, pulling the sail sharply, the winds strong enough to lift you in the air as you hold on tight to the ropes.

You fall next to the lounging dream walker, and he breaks out into laughter.

You stare off into the distance, watching the lavender clouds move through the sky.

“We’ve lived so many different lives together…” you sigh, “It’s odd, sometimes I feel like I don’t even know myself when I wake up.”

Kittens with wings catch jumping fish in their mouths. You giggle. ��How do you do it!”

“What?”

You lie down, staring up at the sky. “...live a normal life after experiencing this.”

Hoseok looks at you out of the corner of his eyes, laughing at your face full of wonder at everything around you. “It’s just a dream.” It was nice knowing, though, that Hoseok could retreat to places like this whenever he wanted.

You sigh, pleased for the calmness. You’ve been experiencing such a whirlwind of emotions it was just nice to soak in the tranquility.

“Dreams are powerful, though,” you tell the dream walker. “Dreams can motivate a person to travel the world, take that chance in life. Don’t you think? You just need to have the right one.”

“Come on.” He holds out his hand for you and you both jump into the sea.

You swim in a water park, a crowd of families and couples playing all around the pair of you. You and Hoseok jump out of the water as he leads you through the park. He opens the door to the bathroom, waiting expectantly. You know he is planning to take you somewhere else. You pull off your pool floaties, noticing how small your hands are for the first time. The dream walker stands half his height, a young boy staring expectantly back at you smiles. That smile is Hoseok’s, you know it is.

When you pass through the door, you're back to your adult selves, however the room you enter looks like it was made for a child.

“Where is this?”

“Ahh my old room, not this one,” he opens another door. You catch the colorful sight of drawings and toys, model airplanes lying unfinished, buildings blocks mapping out tiny cities, before walking into another door.

“This is my room.” You look around, it is clean and neat, so monochromatic. Where’s the color? Everything is lined up meticulously, there is no clutter, the surfaces perfectly clean and bare.

“A bit of a control freak, yeah?” you jab, “I want to make a mess.”

Hoseok laughs, “I could take you on that desk if you really wanted to make a mess.”

You scoff. “You like music,” you look over his records, neatly aligned and displayed on shelving. “Is this your family?” Hoseok nods.

You do notice one colorful thing, starkly sticking out on one of his shelves. “What’s this?” You touch a box of beads.

“It’s something to do, it is relaxing.”

“Make me one?”

An easy request to dream up. He pulls a bracelet out of his pocket, beads an array of pinks and purples and yellows, a sun charm and a sunflower charm. Both yellow, both very different, without the sun the sunflower would not bloom. In Hoseok’s mind, you were the sun.

“It’s pretty,” you exclaim, “Will you make me one in real life too?”

Hoseok did not know how to answer that question, awkwardly moving across his room. “Do you like working at the sleep clinic? It must be a perfect job for you, you always have a dream to enter.”

“I don’t, actually. I’ve never entered any of the patient’s dreams.” Hoseok rests on the top of his made bed. “Well actually, I did once, the first year I started.” You wait to hear his story, lying next to him. The bed changes into a small boat, the mattress still inside. This place must be a favorite of his, you think, staring up at the sunny sky.

“It was a child, her parents brought her in, she was having trouble sleeping. I was curious. The way she described her dreams, I thought she might have been spooked by a monster from a scary movie, easy to fix.”

“And it wasn’t?” as a woman, you know the answer already. You wished it wasn’t so common, so frequent, so obvious.

“The monster, it was her stepfather.” The sky darkens, large angry clouds filling with water.

You reach over Hoseok’s shoulder, and pull your hand back, revealing an umbrella, opening it up before showers rain down.

“Dreams don’t change anything, even if I destroyed that monster a hundred different ways, he would have still continued hurting her in real life.”

You hum. “So what did you do?”

“We made a place she can go to and no one else, somewhere safe inside her mind,” he says, “I let Jimin know I noticed some marks on her legs, advised him to check in with the mother about it. That’s about all I could do in the real world.”

“Can I show you something?” you ask and Hoseok nods.

You lower the umbrella, until the umbrella fan covered your faces and let it fall into the sand. You and Hoseok sit on a towel on the beach. “That’s me,” you point at a chubby baby playing in the sand. “It’s one of the first memories I have. I thought I just made it all up, but then I was looking through some old photos at my mother’s house and I saw myself in that same bathing suit and hat,” you laughed. “It could still be just a dream I guess, but I don’t know, I feel it,” you put your hand over your chest.

Your father put you on his shoulders and gave you a cracker to feed the seagulls, laughing. It was one of the few happy memories you had of your father, before your mother left him. The wind picked up and off flew your hat on both your heads, Hoseok puts his arm around you, grabs the end of your sundress to keep it close to your legs, ushering you away from the old memory before you start to feel sad.

The pair of you walk to an ice cream vendor, Hoseok makes you duck down. Upright again, the ice cream vendor turns into a sweet bread vendor and your beach clothes transform to school uniforms. Hoseok pays for a piece of sweet bread for you and him, running to school before it the bell rings. But this wasn’t your school.

You were at Hoseok’s school.

“You must have been a troublemaker.”

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to, my father was a teacher,” Hoseok laughs and pulls you into an empty classroom.

Towards the window, you watch school kids play. “I would sit on that bench a lot, work on homework before class.”

“Were you errr ‘dream walking’ then?” Hoseok nods. “I used to walk around in the dreams of my sleeping classmates,” he laughs. “Ahh most of their dreams involved lots of class presentations, it was easy to learn how to change things without anyone noticing I wasn’t supposed to be in there. One time I turned everyone into a goat. I think he did his presentation better that way,” Hoseok laughs.

You giggle and point to the adjacent door. “What do you think?” You open the door...

“The arcade!” Hoseok exclaims, recognizing his old hangout spot. “Oh! I have to show you this place, we would go every weekend,” he says excitedly, ushering you to his favorite fighter game.

Without even knowing it, the dream walker was showing you parts of him he had long since forgotten. Unwittingly so, he was reliving his past, but they weren’t exactly memories either. Hoseok did not think twice about it, too busy trying to make you smile, hear your laughter. It was the start of a dream that was not entirely yours. The dreamworld holds a very small detail that was all his, it held his hopes, his dreams. A box with a lock you, who spent so much time with the dream walker, intrinsically knew how to open.

You watch Hoseok play and cheer him on. After another K.O. you get his attention. “You know what? I think it needs an upgrade.” You smile and grab Hoseok’s collar and push him against the game machine, and your clothes change as the rest of the arcade games disappear.

You stand center match in a large brick colosseum. Just you and Hoseok. He looks around at yellow colosseum brick and the bright sun, reminiscent of his old favorite game. And then at you, in your risqué fighter’s outfit.

“You’re going to wear that and expect me to concentrate?” Hoseok tightens the belt around his fighter outfit. He looks fit, lean and defined chest showing. He slides his leg across the dirt and gets in fighting stance, smirking.

You bite your lip. “Best out of three, right?” Large neon numbers in the bright sky light up, indicating your health bar.

“Let’s make a deal, Hoseok!” You do a back handstand, and resume your fighting stance. “If I win, I want to fly,” you say, holding out your arms to the sky, “You better show me!” you yell, forgetting what you had been fighting for all this time.

---

“Err hello, is y/n ready now?” Namjoon calls out from the receptionist desk, noticing the friendly sleep specialist walking past.

“Sorry?” Jimin says, confused, “We released her this morning.”

“But she called me, she said you were doing more tests?” he asks, impatience growing to worry.

“Jungkook, when did Miss y/n leave, do you remember?”

“She um never came through here,” Jungkook looks around, wide-eyed, “I haven’t seen her, Sir.”

The three men stand awkwardly, ‘Here, let me call my assistant-”

“Mr. Park! Come quick! Oh no!”

Jimin runs towards the commotion with Namjoon deciding to follow quickly behind. The men peer through the open door, looking towards the ground at the confusing scene.

You and Hoseok’s bodies were lying on the floor, you curled into his side, his arm around you, as if you were both deep in sleep, with blood pooling at your heads.

---

You know, I told myself, at least once I’m gonna write a story with tentacles, just one time, just to try it out and see what it’s all about :D never again lol :’D well YOU tell me what you think! The ending is a little long right? I wanted to make it feel like the ending scene went on forever, you're stuck besties :’). Did you like it though? How did you like the story, sans tentacles, I wanna know your favorite dream!

Bonus: Dream Analysis & Alternate Ending | Spring Fling Masterlist

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teenytinyjimin · 9 days

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je ne sais pas (j. hoseok)

dans mon esprit tout divague, (in my mind everything goes wild)

je me perds dans tes yeux (i lose myself in your eyes)

je me noie dans la vague de ton regard amoureux (i drown myself in the wave of your loving gaze)

je ne veux que ton âme divaguant sur ma peau (i only want your soul going wild on my skin)

summary: in which two strangers spend an unforgettable day together without actually getting to verbally understand each other.

pairing: hoseok x reader

word count: 2.8k

tags: fluff, language barrier, idol!hoseok, quebecois!reader, strangers to lovers, im bad at this tagging stuff

warnings: none, just enjoy some sweet hoseok fluff <3

author’s note: im really excited about this one yall 😭 i love the idea of language barrier romance because just think about it... u love someone so much that talking to them doesn't matter as much as the memories u create with them.. god ok ill stop speaking please please enjoy!

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

The province of Quebec is often quite peaceful for about 85% of the year, with the exceptions typically being one of two things. First, there's always the typical influx of tourists that happens during peak times of the year like summer, Christmas, things like that. However the second exception is typically related to whatever artist is in Montreal for the Canadian leg of their world tour. It wasn't uncommon for there to be a little bit of buzz around the famous singer in question, however no one seemed to go harder than kpop fans when their group or soloist of choice was coming for a show or two.

You weren't really a fan of kpop in the way that many of your friends were. Sure, you've listened to some songs before, but you never felt the desire to get invested in any of the artists or the lore that came with them. It would be nice to hear your friends babble on about a new song that was released or a new tour that was announced, however you were absolutely not expecting the absolute freakout that was to come when BTS announced that they'd be doing a show in Montreal.

"Can you believe it?" One friend asked you with excitement. Yes, you could. They were famous. Of course they were going to come to Canada for a world tour. It's not that you weren't excited for your friends, who called themselves 'Army', but you just weren't as invested so it didn't mean as much to you. It also didn't help that a lot of their discussions with fellow fans and the things they'd post relating to BTS on their social media profiles were in English.

The majority of Quebecois people were able to communicate in English as well as their native language of French, but for some reason your family lived under a rock and you didn't learn anything beyond basic greetings and conversations in English. You felt rather left out because it felt like you were behind your friends and everyone else around you, however as you grew older you tended to not let it bother you that much. Since French is a prominent language in Quebec, you weren't bothered about language barriers and knew you could get around and live life normally without worry.

Since your friends were much deeper down the Bangtan rabbit hole, they were able to secure floor tickets to their Montreal show and were extremely busy completely overthinking the event and what they wanted to wear. It was now the day before the show and they were last-minute panicking, roaming the stores of downtown Montreal to put together outfits that were both cute and appropriate for the vibe of the concert.

Given that they were rather busy with this, you decided that this would be a weekend to yourself where you could peacefully do whatever you wanted. The quaint cafe you work at full-time decided to close for the weekend given the occasion (apparently the owner was also an Army), so it was a perfect opportunity for you to go down to the local park and do some reading on a bench.

And that's exactly what you did. You found yourself parked on the lawn of Mount Royal Park, right next to the lake. You brought some light reading with you, a small romance novel that involved the typical coffee shop trope, prepared to do some reading but also some people watching in between. It was absolutely perfect, and you couldn't have asked for a better way to spend the weekend. As you peacefully read your cliche novel, cup of iced coffee from a local coffee shop in-hand, you thought the day couldn't get any better. Until it did.

"Hey, excuse me, can you help me?" You looked up from your book to see a boy standing a short distance away from you. He had the warmest smile on his face and his eyes were bright with cheer. You tilted your head slightly, not too sure what he was asking. After a minute of silence, his smile dropped slightly.

"Uh... E-English?" He asked. It was clear that he was struggling with his words as well, even though you didn't speak the language. You shook your head, a slight frown on your face. "Français?" You ask in response, to which he mirrors you and shakes his head in return. The boy looks down for a second, clearly stumped as to what to do at this point. Part of you thought that he was about to walk away, however his feet didn't move from where he was standing.

After a second, he looked back up, his sweet smile once again appearing on his face. With his phone in hand, he pointed at it, then pointed at himself, then pointed at you. Was he asking for your number? Raising an eyebrow, you started to shake your head, however you watched as his smile dropped again and he shook his head rapidly. "No! No!" He said frantically, before mimicking the act of taking a photo, making a little 'click click' noise. He wanted a photo!

Finally understanding what he was saying, you grin and nod, causing him to squeal in delight. He approached you briefly to hand you his phone before backing up toward the lake a little more. You start to turn his phone landscape before he shakes his head and lets out a little yelp, indicating that he wanted the photo to be in portrait mode. You giggle at his antics as he attempts to pose in the way he wants, admiring his efforts to not only have a good photo but also to communicate with you.

Once it seems like he's ready for you to take the photo, you begin clicking the photo button and watch as he begins to move a little bit to hit different styles of poses. And wow, this man was incredible at modeling. You watched in wonder as he effortlessly moved his body in all kinds of directions, going from casual to silly to cute and back to casual. He was absolutely gorgeous, there was no denying that. A ten in a world of fives.

After a couple minutes, he stops posing and giddily bounces back over to you. When he takes his phone back to look at all the photos, he makes a couple of 'woaaahhhh' noises, clearly impressed with your photography skills. You turn away as a blush creeps to your cheeks, flattered that he's happy with the photos. When you look back you watch him slightly bow to you in thanks before pointing to himself. "Hoseok," He says, making sure to enunciate each part of his name in the correct way so that you know how to say it.

You smile and nod, offering your name back to him, to which his smile grows into one of the most beautiful smiles you have ever seen. If it weren't for your impeccable self-control, you probably would have fainted the very first time he smiled at you, given how absolutely charming he was. However, this most recent smile made you a little weak on your feet. You were able to tough it out and stay strong, but God, he was just stunning.

You go to sit back down on your spot in the grass, but before you get the chance to you feel a gentle hand grasp your wrist. Face hot with shyness, you peer back over to him and notice his smile has dropped. You watch as he points toward the exit of the park and into the main city, and gives you a 'come on' motion, indicating that he wanted you to come with him. If this would have happened a few minutes ago when he first approached you, you might not have taken the offer. But now that you've gotten to somewhat know this breathtaking stranger, it was an offer you couldn't turn down. Grabbing your book and iced coffee from off the ground, you decide to follow him out of the park.

As you step back onto the streets of Montreal, walking with this random man, you watch as he turns to you and thinks for a second. You can tell he was trying to figure out how to communicate his next thought, so you remain silent and patient. After a second, he points at his eyes, and then gives this huge gesture with his arms, almost like he's expressing something blowing up. Letting out a soft giggle, you tilt your head slightly, resulting in a laugh coming from his own mouth. His laugh was so loud, sweet, and full of joy, and it was like pure honey dripping from his tongue. He retries his previous charades, now acting like he is looking at something with his hand above both of his eyes. He then goes 'woahh!!' and gives an amazed look, and you realize that he's asking to see some of the highlights of the city. With a soft nod, you take his hand, watching a soft blush creep to his cheeks as you pull him along the street and show him everything he needs to see in your beautiful city.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

After spending hours with Hoseok, showing him about everything in Montreal and taking a picture of him with it, you found yourselves once again back in the park where you first met. It was a rather chaotic day, pulling the boy around and watching his face light up at absolutely everything, but what seemed to be weirder was the fact that multiple times during your tour you guys received a few looks and even whispers. Every time that it happened, Hoseok would indicate to you that he wanted to move on and go to the next spot while also pulling up the light scarf that he had around his neck to cover his mouth and nose. You thought that it was rather bizarre but dismissed it as people being disrespectful since he was a rather loud and excited tourist.

Now, though, it was just you and him, sitting in the grass in front of the lake as you ate a late lunch/early dinner. He asked you to go with him to a local store where he went around and picked out a bunch of ready-made food as well as a bottle of champagne, paying for it all and implying that he wanted to eat it with you back at the park. Considering this stranger was doing more than anyone had ever done for you in the last twenty-something years of your life, you were beyond flattered and at this point you were hardcore swooning for him.

You half expected your meal to be quiet and consist of you guys looking at the lake, looking at each other, and silently eating your meal. But this was Hoseok, the man you had learned was anything but quiet. Even though he couldn't speak your language and you couldn't speak his, he was telling you all kinds of stories through the power of charades and sound effects. For most of the time, he had you in tears, laughing at his impeccable sense of humor and all-around silliness. But he also provided you with moments of peace so you could eat without choking, which was rather respectful of him, you thought.

After a while of fun storytelling, you two fell silent. You gazed over at the lake, watching as the sun made the water shimmer, and let out a sigh. When you looked back over to Hoseok, you caught him staring at you, causing a blush to creep to your cheeks. Raising an eyebrow, you nudged him as a way to ask 'what are you looking at?'. Shaking his head, he hesitantly stretched out his arm to wrap it around your waist. Just by looking at him you could tell he was internally freaking out, his eyes wide with nervousness. You smiled softly and inched your way closer to him, accepting his embrace as you rested your head on his shoulder.

There was something about this man that was so much different from anyone else that you had ever met. His charisma, his kindness, his energy – all of it was so attractive. It was the fact that he wasn't just a pretty face, he was a pretty human. You could tell he was raised right with a heart of gold and you felt beyond lucky to have ever met him in the first place. For him to have asked you of all the people in Montreal to take a picture of him made you feel extremely lucky, because had he not approached you, the two of you would have never met.

He pulled back a little bit to prompt you to remove your head and look at him. You watched as he pointed at himself, then cleared his throat before singing a little bit of a song. His singing voice was as sweet as can be, and you were about to just sit there and admire him, until you realized that the song he was singing was familiar. You didn't quite know what the name of the song was, and he wasn't singing it in quite the right tone, but you knew it was by BTS. The kpop group that was currently in Montreal and about to perform the following day.

Your mouth gaped open as you realized what was happening. You didn't even realize that you had been spending the entire day with a member of BTS. The people looking and whispering throughout were probably people who recognized him, not people who were judging him. And he was hiding his face because he didn't want to be recognized. He just wanted to spend the day with a beautiful girl and feel like a normal human being. You didn't blame him for not telling you sooner, though. It's not like you're a diehard fan of his group, but you probably wouldn't have looked at him the same way had he told you immediately.

After processing what was happening, you closed your mouth and smiled, giving him a vigorous nod. Once he gave you a smile in return, you went back to resting your head on his shoulder and grabbing your glass of champagne to hold. You wanted to show him that it was cool, everything was fine, and things weren't going to change. You liked him as Hoseok, the boy he introduced himself as when he eagerly asked you for a picture earlier. Not the kpop idol that stands in front of thousands on a stage and performs for them.

As time continued to pass and the sun got to a point where the day started to become sunset, you two sat in blissful silence while enjoying one another's presence. After a while Hoseok once again nudged you, causing you to look up at him. You watched as he once again admired your face, a blush creeping to your cheeks as you became shy from the eye contact. Just as you were about to look away he reached his hand over to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, and then rested that hand against your cheek.

At this point there was no need for charades because all you needed to do was look into his eyes and he told you absolutely everything you needed to know. He dipped his head down slightly as you both pulled each other in for a kiss, his sweet lips meeting yours in absolute harmony. Your stomach did about five thousand backflips as adrenaline coursed through your veins and your brain went fuzzy. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, this was a moment that you were waiting for practically all day. Little did you know, however, this was a moment that he had been anticipating even before he spoke to you for the first time. It all started when he saw you from a distance and his heart almost beat out of his chest because he was so enamored by your beauty.

As you both pulled away from the kiss, you watched as his mouth curled into the sweetest heart smile and he leaned in once again to peck the tip of your nose. You knew that today was going to be absolutely perfect, but your new romance made it about ten times better than perfect if that was even possible.

It's safe to say that the next day you were at barricade at the biggest concert of the year in Montreal, courtesy of BTS' resident rapper and dancer, J-Hope. Or, as you knew him, your smiley Hoseok.

16 notes · View notes

ababybiter · 9 months

Text

living with bangtan

when you’re the last one to move into the dorm with namjoon, jin, yoongi, hobi, jimin, taehyung and jungkook, they had their bets on what unlucky soul would have to share the space with them, but they never imagined it would be...you.

slowburn, s2l, f2l, fluff, smut, bts are obsessed with you <3 right now it’s bts x reader (haven’t fully decided on the main love interest, maybe whichever ship is the most popular with you guys!!!)

PART 1

The ride to campus took an entire day, but the rain pattering on the window the whole way made up for it. It was evening by the time you reached your accommodation. It was the start of your second year at college, and you were ready to actually try and socialise this time.

The best years of your life! The phrase your elder relatives would force on you. At this point you just wanted to get through the last two years being able to call them not entirely the worst years of your life!

The ground floor of the building was almost like a small study area. The sun had gone down and the warm yellow glow of the room attacked you as you pushed wet hair from your forehead.

“221″ You murmur, fingering the gold key in your hand. Being a freshman was so much easier, this time you were all alone, no college rep or reluctant parent to help you.

“Oh, did you say 221?” The one guy sitting down here looked up, flicking his dark hair out of his eye. He wore a black and white striped top, a few necklaces hung beneath his friendly, boxy smile.

“Yeah, I- don’t really-”

“That’s on my floor.” He stands, quickly closing his laptop and gathering his paper and pen.

“Oh! No, please don’t. I can find it on my own...eventually.”

“It’s no trouble. I was done here anyway.” He smiles shortly, tossing a coffee cup in the bin.

“Thank you. I’m Y/N by the way.”

“Ah, nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Taehyung. But you can call me V.” Distracting you with a peace sign, and ducking down to lift your suitcase.

“I’ve got it, seriously!” You paw his hand off for it.

“Fine, I’ve got this then.” He swoops down to pick up your box of things. “Wow, a record player!”

“Oh, yeah. That was my first purchase with my student loan.” You hold open the door to the stairs for him.

“I see you take your education seriously.” He jokes.

You laugh at his confidence. “I actually do. I just...never had that kind of money before in one hit, you know.”

“I’ll watch out for you then. God I hope you’re never in charge of funds for a group project.”

“Okay, enough!” You step into the elevator, scoffing. He puts down the box and presses the button to take you to your floor.

“So what are you taking?”

“Film and TV production.” You answer. “You?”

“Oh cool! We have another one of those on our floor. I’m taking Geography. Yours sounds way more fun.”

The elevator shudders and the two of you shuffle out into a hallway.

“Be careful with the d-”

So your door has a tendency to swing open and bang into the wall, which explains the chipped paint everywhere. At least now you know.

“...door.” Taehyung smirks.

The door beside your own swings open, a large hand catching it before it smashes into the wall. “I see the newbie is here! Well, I hear them actually. Oh!”

A tall, broad shouldered, hunk of a man in white, stands in the doorway.

“I’m so sorry!” You gasp. “V told me about the door, 3 seconds too late.”

The guy chuckles, sending a loaded glance to Taehyung. “Your name is...?”

“Y/N.” You sigh, kicking a box to wedge the door open.

“I’m your neighbour Jin-Hyung.”

“So, Jin, I’m a big fan of the look.” You gesture to the red bows pinned to his hair. V snorts.

“Oh, right, I forgot I had these on.” He tugs at them. “I was face-timing my niece when you so rudely interrupted. She’s 8, and just worked out how to use Amazon.”

“Can she style me next?” Taehyung grins, earning a slap to the ear from Jin.

“Thanks guys for the welcome, but I have my first class tomorrow and it’s over in the new building so I should really get some rest.”

“Oh Jin, is Yoongi in?” Tae points down the hall.

“He’s not. Why?”

“Ah, don’t worry.” V looks at you, pulling the door to your room. “I’ll deal with the door.” He winks. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

The next morning, after grabbing something from your suitcase to wear, you open the door and start toward the elevator.

“Hey.” Taehyung yawns, trudging down the hallway. “My class is in the new building too. I’ll walk with you.”

He looks nothing like the studious night owl you met yesterday.

“Not a morning person, huh?”

“Don’t be mean.” He narrows his eyes, looking you up and down. “And you are?”

“I actually do a lot better than this, usually. I wasn’t as prepared as usual.”

“Uhuh.” He smirks, stabbing the elevator button. “God why can’t we have the afternoon classes?”

“Sucks to be you, most of mine are.” You grin, stepping out into the sunshine.

“Shit, I thought we could share the pain together.”

“I’ll let you know once assignments start.”

“And, here is your class.” V walks you to a greyish green door, looking in on the early contenders.

“Thanks, where’s yours?”

“Upstairs...somewhere.” His eyes dart elsewhere, looking for someone. “Ah, there he is. Yoongi!”

A guy with blonde messy hair dressed all on black pushes himself off the wall. He stalks over, giving V a screw face. “Why are you shouting at this time?”

“Where were you last night huh?” Tae puts him in a headlock, mussing his hair up even more.

“Ah, get off my dick.” Yoongi pushes him off. “This your new girlfriend?”

“New dorm mate, actually.” You stare at him.

Tae’s eyes flicker to you calmly whilst Yoongi’s eyebrows launch off his forehead. “No way, you’re the last one?”

“Where’s Jungkook?” Tae asks quickly before you can say anything.

“Getting me a coffee. And him too, I guess.” Yoongi shrugs, turning back to you. “So did they-”

“Alright, I gotta go. Look after her yeah?” With that, V turns and quickly walks to the exit, avoiding your gaze.

“I thought he had a class in here.” You cock your head with a puzzled expression.

Yoongi scoffs. “This building is for Film and TV only. You’re really not one for reading the terms and conditions are you?”

“What do you mean?” You turn to him softly, acutely aware of how Tae just left you with this random person.

Yoongi softens his expression, as if he now only just realised why Taehyung wants him to look after you. “You’re the only girl in our dorm, you knew that right?”

Being one of the early birds had its perks when it came to seating. You sat down next to Yoongi and shortly after a boy in a grey sweatshirt came striding in, two coffee cups in his hands. He passed one to Yoongi, taking a seat beside you. Yoongi watched him, taking the cup and smirk. “Hey, Jungkook, guess who I just met.”

Jungkook’s eyes dart back and forth between you and Yoongi, he doesn’t guess.

“Hi.”You smile, starting to enjoy the surprise on everyone’s faces. “I’’m Y/N. The last one.”

Jungkooks eyes continue to dart for a few seconds before he realises, they widen briefly and his part and close like a fish. “You moved into 221 last night?”

“Yeah.” Your face falls for a second. “It’s not haunted or anything right?”

“No!” Jungkook chuckles. “It’s just we all moved in pretty early, we had bets on who the last person would be. None of us had bets on them being...well, you.”

“Me? A girl?” You blink.

Jungkook hides a smirk. “Yeah, a-a girl.” He gasps. “Oh no, I would’ve got you a coffee too, if I’d known. Here have mine.” He slides his cup down to you.

“It’s fine, I’m doing better at the whole morning person thing lately. Without the caffeine.”

“Still.” He shrugs. “It’s mocha. It’s nice.” He meets your gaze.

“Well, we’re about to share our living space.” You close your fingers around the cup, brushing his as you do so. “Might as well share a coffee.”

Jungkook blushes slightly but doesn’t break eye contact. Yoongi whistles lowly and you’re about to glare at him, when you see he’s not looking at you two.

“Check out this big shot!” He beams, at an alarmingly normal volume.

You follow his almost proud stare to the guest lecturer currently making their way up to the podium. “Oh yeah, him I did read about!” You nudge Yoongi. “Kim Namjoon. He’s here this year to talk about women in film, I have so many questions for him.”

You watch as the young man in the brown tweed blazer shuffles his papers, neatly ordering his highlighters on the stand. “I mean I guess you guys could’ve gotten this guy as your roommate.” You chuckle.

Yoongi shares a smirk with Jungkook. “You wanna tell her or should I?”

“Sorry I just can’t get over that I’m sharing a dorm with Kim Namjoon. Is that even allowed?” You sit opposite Yoongi in a sandwhich cafe on campus, after leaving the lecture, your dormmate Jungkook caught up with your OTHER dormmate Namjoon and the two of them headed off to do something, leaving you to have lunch with your new classmate AND household member, Yoongi.

“It’s allowed.” Yoongi laughs, biting into a baguette. “It’s not technically a student house, and he’s not technically a professor.”

“It’s just...it feels ILLEGAL. Am I allowed to ask him my essay questions at home?!”

“It’s not illegal, but...” Yoongi pauses to take in your face of awe. “Jeez, the guy’s not famous. He still pours his cereal like the rest of us.”

“First of all, it better be cereal first, and what is that logic? Second of all, this is just NOT what I had planned for my second year at college.”

Yoongi leans across the table. “And what did you have planned?”

You lean across to match him. “Not whatever it was you were doing last night.”

That night, you’re sitting in the shared living space with your laptop open, trying to make sense of the garbled notes you took this morning whilst processing everything that was going on. It’s then that you understand why V studies in the downstairs lobby, the high pitched songbird performing an erotic number in Yoongi’s room at the moment was highly distracting.

You’re about to bring your laptop downstairs when Namjoon walks in.

“Oh, hi, we haven’t properly met.” He walks over to you. “I’m Namjoon. I hope you’re finding things...” He side-eyes the bedrooms. “Comfortable?”

“I was- I mean I am! I’m Y/N. I, yeah, I was just trying to sort out my notes from this morning.”

“Right, yeah. Sorry if I spoke to fast, it was my first lecture.” He takes a seat at the table. “I can help you...make sense of it, if you like?”

You swallow the saliva that had gathered in your throat after watching his arm pull up the chair. “You were great! Really good. I just was a bit...distracted.”

“No worries.” He blushes, spinning your laptop.

“Oh.” Now it’s your turn to blush, what would he think of your messy notes?

“Wow, yeah you were distracted.” He smiles. “Can I ask what was happening back there in the 7th row?”

You blink. “Uh, you saw me?”

“I saw the boys and then I saw you.” He holds your stare. “I guess I’ll do better at holding your attention next time.”

You feel your heartbeat even faster and your actually glad for the smack of someones bedroom slamming into the wall nearby. You both turn as Yoongi saunters into the kitchen, an empty water bottle in his hand. He stops in his tracks, running a hand through his sex hair.

“Oh, you guys met.”

“I would have introduced myself earlier, but Jungkook rushed me off. Sorry.” Namjoon is smiling at you again and you almost slip off the plastic chair.

Yoongi is still standing in the room, clutching his empty bottle. “Are you studying together? Isn’t that conflict of interest?”

Namjoon laughs. “Like I didn’t add your name to the sign up sheet 2 weeks past the deadline?”

Yoongi grins at him, walking past to fill up his water bottle at the sink. “I dunno, some might say this little get together right here is...illegal.” He sends you a playful look.

“Some might accuse you of what you’re doing in there as illegal.” You gesture to his bedroom, where he’s no doubt left a very dehydrated girl awaiting his return.

“Oh angel, you have no idea.” He flips the now full bottle and goes back the way he came, but not before shooting you a wink.

You roll your eyes and turn back to Namjoon. “Where were we?”

He chuckles, looking down at the computer.

“So how’s your first few weeks been?” Taehyung asks you as you sit crossed legged on the grass outside the food hall. You and Taehyung had become the closest so far, not so surprisingly when he was the one that always seemed to be around.

“Better than I expected, seen as I was put into a dorm with 7 guys.” You laugh at the chaos that has been the first week. “Speaking of, I still haven’t met Jimin and...Hobi?”

“Yep.” He twirls ramen around his chopsticks. “They’re back from their dance competition this weekend.”

“And, Yoongi, god. How do you guys stand him? How do you LIVE with him?!”

“How do we live with him.” Tae corrects. “He’s nice when you get to know him. He looks after me. He looks after the ladies pretty well too.”

You gag. “Now I know why you study on the first floor.”

“It’s not just Yoongi that brings home the opera singers you know.” He sends you a mysterious look. “At least it wasn’t him that night.”

“Ugh, I don’t want to know.”

“You just don’t wanna know if it’s your precious Namjoon that’s also a lady killer.”

“Yoongi told you about my momentary fangirl moment then.” You sigh.

Taehyung watches you and smiles. “You know he loves winding you up.”

You pretend to go back to eating, but curiosity gets the better of you. “So...who else was fucking at 5pm on a Sunday evening?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” V smirks. “Whoever it was, I’m just glad I was there to welcome you into our nut house.”

“Don’t call it that again, please.”

He winces playfully. “But Y/N.” He turns serious. “I really do hope you’re comfortable here. We are really all nice guys.”

“That’s what a nice guy would say.” You narrow your eyes.

“True.” He slaps his knee. “Damn I need a new tactic.”

You laugh, throwing a bread crust at him. He retaliates by squirting you with water.

“Taehyung!” You squeal, jumping up. He watches your eyes move towards your own bottle and is faster than you, he grabs it and throws it off towards the bushes.

“You’re an asshole.” You choke between laughter, stomping off to go and get it.

Someone gets there first. You watch as they stoop down and pick it up, before walking over to the two of you. It’s Jungkook, his long hair is parted down the middle, another light sweatshirt hiding his figure.

“Hey! Jungkook!” You beam, but he passes you the bottle and walks towards Taehyung.

“You said we were getting lunch. I waited at the cafe for half an hour.”

Your smile disappears as V jumps up. “Oh shit, I’m sorry man. I completely forgot. I met Y/N outside the building and we just-”

“It’s fine, don’t worry. Just let me know next time yeah?” He turns and glances at you before walking off toward the path.

“Oh no.” You sit down slowly on top of the makeshift blanket you made out of yours and V’s hoodies.

“Don’t worry, it’s my fault.” V shakes his head. “I’m a terrible friend.” He dramatically lays back on the grass for a few seconds before sitting up straight. “Let’s go buy that emo some cake.”

“Cake?” You tuck some hair behind your ear that keeps blowing out of place.

“Yeah, apology cake.” Tae jumps up and holds out a hand for you to take. When he pulls you up, a thumb brushes over yours. “Don’t worry though, okay? He’s pissed at me, not you.”

You smile softly, but the way Jungkook looked at you just now, made you wonder if he was wrong.

Jungkook didn’t come home that night, so the spongecake sits in the kitchen, awaiting his return. Taehyung had sent him texts, which he had replied to, in a way that Taehyung deemed ‘normal for him’. You also texted Jungkook, but the responses you got seemed blunt, and slightly annoyed.

You were staring at the messages after getting out of the shower, when a new one popped up above from Jin.

neighbourjin: i’m bored

you: hi bored, i’m y/n!

You laugh evilly at your dad joke, which earns a smack on your shared wall.

neighbourjin: stop laughing at your own joke and come play mario with me

It was something you had gotten into the habit of doing lately. Whilst, V had been a constant comfort of having someone to eat lunch with, walk between classes with, Jin had felt the emotions that came over you at night through the shared wall of your rooms. The sudden loneliness and social anxiety that had battled against you since the start of freshman year. You had refused to show anyone that side you this year, as you believe it must have been the reason you couldn’t hold a friend group before.

You don’t know if Jin had the same feelings, but you hoped you brought him the distraction and comfort he was bringing to you right now.

After playing Mario and beating him 5 times in a row, you looked up at him and poked the redness of his cheeks that only came from losing to you.

“You’re pretty when you lose.”

He turns to you with a horrified expression. “You’re a liar when you’re tired.”

“Tired from all the winning.” You kick back, lifting your legs up on his bed.

“You should get some rest.” He glances over your frame. “Jimin and Hobi are back this weekend and no doubt they’ll wanna pull an all nighter.”

“I can’t wait to meet them.” You sit up and stretch. Jin looks away from you in your white vest and shorts. “Goodnight Jin.” You lean over and hug him, smelling his soft suncream smell.

“Goodnight, Y/N. Now go so I can practice some more.”

“Haha, you’ll never beat me!” You skip towards the door. You look once more back at him, and he winks at you in a friendly manner.

In his stretched white t-shirt and baggy shorts, you considered risking it all right there and then.

But no, you close the door and went back to your room. You couldn’t deny you had already been looking at your room mates a little too closely already, but that was one rule you had made with yourself.

Getting with a room mate would be ultra messy. Especially, ones like them.

END OF PART 1

hope you guys like, jimin and hobi in the next part!! which ship is your fav so far??

#bts #bts x reader #jin fanfic #jungkook fanfic #namjoon fanfic #yoongi fanfic #v fanfic #jimin fanfic #hobi fanfic

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sailoryooons · 1 year

Text

The Wood | JHS | (m)

☾ Pairing: witch!Hoseok x female reader

☾ Summary: From the moment you step foot in Kill Devil, you know something about the town is off. Determined to find out exactly how your sister went missing in such a small town, you receive unlikely help from the man staying in the motel room next to yours. But there is so much more than what meets the eye with Hoseok and the citizens of Kill Devil.

☾ Word Count: 16,786

☾ Genre: supernatural, psychological thriller, southern-gothic

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Creepy town vibes somewhere in the south, unreliable narrator because she’s a dumb bitch, missing family member, descriptions of nightmares and night terrors, allusions to toxic citizens and intolerance in the southern US, cryptic exchanges, being attacked and choked by a strange entity, sleep paralysis, depictions of anxiety and panic and deep fear, manipulation, cat Yoongi.... sort of, explicit language, explicit sexual content including unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, slight hand job, a lot of spit and cum, fucking in a nasty ass motel room, mean Hoseok at the end, I don't know why I reference frogs so much please forgive me, ambiguous ending/unexplained ending, implied death of a side character off-screen

☾ Published: May 29, 2022

☾ A/N: Not only is this absolutely a million weeks late, it also is the longest it has ever - and I mean ever - taken me to write a fic. This was so hard for me to write, and I have deleted anad re-written thousands of words for this. The end result is something that I absolutely did not plan. This fic is ENTIRELY different from the original outline and idea, so at times it might seem where this piece doesn’t know where it’s going because it wasn’t until I got to the end of the smut scene last night that I realized what the hell this story needed.

I want to thank @here2bbtstrash because I could not have written this fic without them, but also for the amazing and thorough beta they gave this. This was one of my choppier/messier pieces and they helped fix this so much and I have giant feelings for M that are very normal. Also a special thank you to @gimmethatagustd for keeping me somewhat sane while really struggling with this piece.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | To Love A Monster Collab | Song Inspiration

Only God can save us!

It’s probably the tenth sign of the like that you’ve seen. Your palms feel sweaty on the wheel, the unsettling feeling in your stomach as you drive through God’s Country increasing. For some reason, as you catch glimpses of old abandoned churches at the end of red dirt roads and leaning fruit stands with no seller in sight, you think that perhaps God has forsaken this place.

The drive has been unremarkable, but the closer you get to Kill Devil you think perhaps the town is aptly named. You can’t help but get the sense - especially when you stop at a gas station with no one inside and a single working pump - that there is a reason the town sports such a unique title.

It’s hard to imagine why your sister would ever move here, even temporarily. Outside, the locusts whine, a high-pitched buzzsaw hidden in the boughs draped with Spanish moss. The paint on the road has long since faded, single lanes stretching North to South in an endless strip.

Sticky heat prickles your skin. Though there’s no one else around save for you and the locusts, you can’t help but look around nervously, eyes scouring the oak trees. The door to the gas station is locked, and the other side of your single-station pump has a red bag on the handle.

The sk sk sk of the pump is a slow heartbeat. Pulling out your phone while you wait, your stomach flips when you see that you have very little service. You’re about thirty minutes away from Kill Devil and an hour away from any major cities. Peppered along the map are small towns like Kill Devil, home to pecan farms, corn fields, and cotton gins.

You feel a long way from home.

A tingle slides down the back of your neck. You look up from your phone, gaze sweeping back and forth through the trees and over the cracked pavement of the station. There’s nothing else there, but you have the sense that the trees have eyes.

The pump clicks loudly and your heart lurches, hand flying to your chest as you shriek and turn. For a few moments, your heart beats so loudly in your ears you can’t hear the chirping of the locusts or your ragged breathing as you close your eyes, trying to level out your moment of panic.

“Fuck,” you mutter, pulling the handle and jiggling it lightly to ensure any dripping gas is shaken off.

Naturally, you’re a pretty calm person. The jumpiness belongs to your mother, who screams every time someone turns a corner in the house unexpectedly. It’s something about the feeling that clings to you like a second skin as you get in the car that has you shaken.

Or it’s the fact that your sister has been missing for two months.

On instinct, your hand goes to the necklace around your throat. It’s a heart-shaped locket, which would seem cheesy to anyone else. But for you, it’s one of the few coveted items you have from her.

It’s also something that you swear burned you in the middle of the night two months ago. You’re not sure if you believe in spiritual intuition or connection between family members, but what you do know is that you haven’t heard from her, and the local police have been no help.

Trust your gut. That’s what she’s always said. And you do trust your gut on this, this knowing that something is wrong.

On the road again, your tension continues to increase. The land has turned to steep up and down hills, pines lined on either side of the road, pocked with deep canyons.

Orange tire tracks appear and disappear on the highway, turning off onto clay roads with washed-out shoulders and deep ruts from all of the rain over the summer. Your sister had mentioned the house she was renting was nearly impossible to get to when the rain was bad.

A green sign that says Kill Devil City Limits passes by. No welcome sign, no little plaque announcing the population. Your music skips in and out, the connection to your phone weak. You switch to FM, flinching at the roaring static that comes through, finger jamming on the arrows to skip through to something passable.

Country. Country. Church. Country. Rock. Pop.

You leave it on the pop station, turning your eyes back to the road. A logging truck comes roaring up the hill, blasting by your sedan at top speed, making your car shake. Your heart squeezes in fear. You’ve passed over two dozen of them and they never drive any slower or any safer each time.

You’re going to kill Hanna if you find her lounging in her house, making you come all this way.

She had taken up a story there, investigating the town's eerie occult background for the media company that she worked for. Her editor had stopped receiving updates from her around the same time you’d stopped hearing from her.

When you called the landlord she was renting from, he was no help. Some idiot who owned seventeen houses dotted around the country, renting them out for twice the price they were worth.

The local police station had been worse. They’d done a wellness check several times after you called but insisted she wasn’t home. No signs of a break-in, no signs of a struggle. No reason to be missing. They refused to make it an official report, as there was no reason for her to be missing.

Have you considered she just doesn’t want to talk to you? they’d laughed on the phone.

It was a joke. Somehow you could not believe they refused to file a report, and you threatened to take it to the state police and anyone who would listen to you. The woman you had spoken to had chuckled then, her mirth sending a chill up your spine.

Have fun on hold, sweetheart.

You could not fathom how not a single person cared. Not the news, not any authority that you could get in contact with, and certainly not the lawyer you reached out to.

Let law enforcement handle it. Your pleas fell on deaf ears and it was like it didn’t even matter that an entire person was missing. You’d heard about the blunders of the law enforcement system before, but this was a new level of ignorance and oddity.

It was… unexplainable.

Which was why now, you were driving into the backwater town of Kill Devil in the southern part of the United States.

Dropping your speed down, you take the chance to look around. There are a few houses on the outskirts of the town, their yards sprawling with kudzu and their homes leaning heavily with brown vines climbing up the eaves. There are several old, broken-down trucks in the middle of the kudzu fields, swallowed by the invasive vine-like devil’s snare.

You’d heard of one-stop-light-towns but you had never seen one without. Kill Devil is made up of all stop signs. Everything is built around the courthouse, a red brick building dropped in the middle like a fungus growing its roots outward.

The sheriff’s office is just across the street with Crown Victoria model patrol cars. A taxidermist is right next door, the gold cursive font on the front of the glass door telling you it’s been there since the 70s.

Kill Devil has everything you expect. Antique shops with dusty windows and dry-rotted awnings, a convenience store that looks straight out of retro America, closed-down shops with empty shelves and shattered glass, and a single diner with station wagons and mud-slicked trucks in the parking lot.

A single motel stands at the edge of the town center. When you pull into the parking lot, you look up at the sign and frown. Like something out of a horror movie, the Lodging Motel is missing several letters in long-burnt-out neon, three letters blinking in the fading afternoon sun: Lodging Motel.

Die.

With one look at the crusted, three-paneled windows and mold-covered brick face, you think that you just might die.

Pink sun sinks behind the rolling hills of pine. You get out of the car, stretching and popping your joints as you look at your lodging with a sour taste in your mouth. You pass the ‘vacant’ sign as you walk to the small square building at the end with ‘front office’ on the window.

“Yeah no shit,” you mutter. You cannot imagine who would stay here out of anything but necessity.

In fact, it seems like there is no one staying at the hotel. This fact makes you jumpy as you approach the office, which is just a clerk's window and a woman with sunken eyes and a scowl on her face watching you. You swallow thickly as you give her a weak smile and nervous wave, trying to get past the sudden anxiety trembling in your hands.

“Hi,” you say. “I have a reservation for-”

A small window that’s about six inches tall and a foot wide pops open. She hacks, fluid-sounding and phlegmy before saying, “I can’t hear you with the damn window closed. What do you want?”

You clench your jaw. Slowly, you begin again. “I have a reservation.”

“ID and credit card.”

You slide the materials through the window. She holds them up close to her face, scrutinizing them. Crickets join the singing of the locusts. Mosquitos fly around your head and you cringe, swatting at them as you wait while she rolls her chair over to a cabinet.

Wordlessly, she puts your credit card on a manual credit card imprinter. You raise your brows, unsure of the last time you’ve seen someone do paper credit card printing instead of sliding it through a machine.

While you wait, you look past her into the office. It’s dingy inside but you can see a box TV and a window unit air conditioner rattling in the window. There are metal cabinets that form their own little skyscrapers around her office. An episode of I Love Lucy plays on the fuzzy TV screen.

“Here’s your room key.” She tosses it through the window. It’s room three, the key hanging on a diamond-shaped, acrylic keychain with Lodging Motel written in Sharpie. “We don’t got room service or maid service. If you need more towels, the launder-mat is down the street. Don’t run the hot water more than twenty minutes or so. If the AC ain’t on, hit ‘er a few times.”

“Great,” you deadpan. “Anything else?”

She scowls. “Mind the raccoons. They got rabies.”

“Thanks.”

Inside the room is just as expected: peeling wallpaper, red shag carpet with questionable stains and the unmistakable stench of cigarettes, sconce lighting with lampshades that look decades old, a twin with a horrible patterned blanket, frayed at the edges and moth-eaten, and a single, square dresser with a box TV on top and a white, corded phone.

The bathroom is no better. The tub is stained with limescale, cracked tiles, and a lamp that buzzes when you flip it on. You scream when you see the massive roach hanging out in the tub, gagging and running out to look for anything to kill it with.

You settle on a sneaker, and it’s a battle involving your high-pitched scream as you try and kill it. You do win, but you’re covered in sweat and shaking after your victory.

A sharp knock on the door startles you further. You drift to the front door, looking out the peephole to find that it is cracked and you cannot see the person standing just on the other side. You slide the chain lock in and open the door tentatively, peering out into the now early night.

“Everything okay?” a male voice asks. “I heard screaming.”

The voice belongs to someone who absolutely does not belong in Kill Devil. He’s dressed in jeans with large rips at the knee and a plain white shirt that hangs off his frame stylishly. He has a few necklaces on, a single hoop hanging from his right ear that catches the flickering parking lot light.

And he’s beautiful. The kind of beautiful that stuns you. He has a slender face with smooth, flowing skin. His eyes are kind, glittering brown with flecks of lighter shades throughout. The slope of his cheekbones and jawline makes you think perhaps he’s into modeling, which would explain the taste in clothes.

But it does not explain what someone who looks like that is doing in this shithole town.

“I had to kill a roach,” you admit, a little hesitant. Your skin tingles under his gaze, your instincts picking up something that you can’t put your thumb on. “I don’t like them very much and it was fast.”

“Disgusting. I had to buy killer for them - it came in a two-pack if you want?” You don’t answer, watching him warily. He picks up on your anticipation and smiles, disarming. “Sorry - my name is Hoseok. You can call me Hobi, if you’d like. I’m staying next door which is just as gross as your room is I’m sure. I heard you yell and I got worried.”

“That’s kind of you. This doesn’t seem like a place where people would care if they heard screaming.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not from here.” He looks around the parking lot and his eyes focus on a raccoon meandering near the trash. You grimace, thinking about rabies. “Thank fuck, this place feels right out of fucking Deliverance.”

You can’t help but laugh, feeling better at his distaste. “One sec, let me slide the lock off.” You close the door and slide the chain before opening it a little wider this time. “Yeah, this place gives me the creeps. Hopefully, I don’t have to be here long.”

“A night is long enough. You want that spray?”

“Yeah, that would be great.”

Hoseok grins and holds up a finger, asking you to wait as he jogs to his room. He’s only gone for a moment, leaving you in the poorly lit lot with the tk tk tk of the raccoon pilfering through trash and the crickets creek creek creeking.

Hoseok’s door opens and he’s back, handing you a large, red can of lemon-scented Raid. “Just make sure you drown them. They did outlive the dinosaurs. Makes you wonder what the hell is in that stuff.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem…” He drifts off, unsure what your name is. You laugh, a little flustered by the way his entire face lights up when he smiles, and give him your name. “I like it. Well, I don’t know how long you’re here, but I’m your neighbor for a few days. Try not to catch any infections while you’re in there and holler if you need me.”

“Thanks,” you grin. You hold up the can and add, “Especially for this.”

With a wave goodnight, Hoseok returns to his room. The buzz of something instinctual fades with him, replaced once more with the unsettling frequency the town seems to vibrate at.

Closing the door firmly behind you and flicking the lock, you shiver. The eerie feeling that had been following you lingers.

After changing the sheets, inspecting the rest of the room and setting the spray can firmly on the pillow next to you, you lay on your back in bed, mattress lumpy and air conditioner rattling.

Moonlight streams through the curtain, catching dust motes floating in the air and turning them into diamonds. You stand in the middle of the room. Cold but humid air clings to your skin, the air conditioner rattling and dripping as it cools the room but does nothing to suck out the moisture. You don’t know why you’re standing in the middle of the room and you don’t remember waking up and getting out of bed, but you face the window, the curtains open just enough to face the empty parking lot.

Silence blankets the world. The hum of the air conditioner fades and you stare out into the silver-painted parking lot. Above the lot, a street light flickers on and off weakly. It goes out for a minute and flashes back on.

Someone leans against the pole. You can’t make out any features, just that there is a person there, perhaps facing you. The hair on your skin stands on end but you can’t move. Your instincts begin to prickle and there is a sharp feeling in your chest.

Belatedly, beyond your hypnotized stare, you realize the feeling is fear.

Your ears start to ring. You stare out at the shadow and the shadow stares back. Something is telling you to run run run but you don’t know how. Can’t move your feet. Panic begins to rise, your heart beating so fast that you can hear it over the steady whine in your ears.

Thump thump. Thump thump. Thumpthumpthumpthump.

You can feel your pulse skyrocketing, your chest squeezing tight with terror as the beating gets louder and louder -

Awareness hits you like cold water. You lurch forward in bed, hands flying to your chest as you gasp for air. It takes a moment to get your bearings, the pounding in your heart so hard it feels like you might vomit. Battling the sheets, you rip them off of you, legs sticky with a sheen of sweat.

The lamp is still on in your room, the curtains are closed just the way you left them, and the bug killer rolls on the bed as you get up. Several paces away from the window, you catch your breath, running a hand over your face.

“Fuck,” you pant, realizing you were dreaming.

When your breathing levels out, you glance at the closed curtains. Something niggles at your brain. Slowly, you walk toward the window, feeling the hairs on your arms tingle and stand on end.

Lifting your shaking hands, you grip the curtain tight. Taking a deep breath, you hold it in and pull open the curtain just a bit.

Unlike your dream, there’s no moonlight outside. It’s so dark you almost can’t see anything in the parking lot. When the lot light flickers back on, your heart squeezes, expecting to see a shadow leaning against the pole. There’s nothing there, just empty lot and a dumpster. Not even the raccoon is around.

Blowing out your held breath, you close the curtain again and shake out your hands, trying to get rid of the jitters. Rolling your neck and shoulders, you try to work out the tension as you sit on the end of the bed, staring at the faded wallpaper.

The dream felt so real. You swear that if you turn your head, you’ll see silver moonlight through the curtains. That you’ll see that person - that shadow - standing outside of your window.

Exhaustion weighs heavy on you. You crawl back into bed, mattress damp and smelling like mildew even with the sheets that you put on it. You’re under a lot of stress and you hate this motel room as much as you already hate this town that you’ve barely started to explore. It makes sense that you’re having weird dreams.

Blanket pulled up to your chin, you eventually let your lids flutter shut until you’re taken by dreamless sleep.

Morning sun chases away the dregs of your strange dream from the night before. With daylight streaming between the curtains, the room looks no better. It’s a futile hope, perhaps, to keep thinking that the room will suddenly not look nearly as questionable as when you checked in.

At least there are no bugs.

Outside, the balmy air is filled with the voices of the locusts. You lock the door behind you and glance toward where Hoseok vanished the night before. His windows are closed and there’s no sign of him anywhere in the parking lot, so you head to your car, stomach begging for food.

Kill Devil is small in both size and population. The Diner is easy to find, tucked in the southwest corner of the town across from the courthouse. Folks wander about the parking lot, shaking one another’s hands and laughing as the weekend rush of people meanders up the steps for breakfast.

Your arrival is noted immediately. Eyes turn your way as you walk through the lot, loose gravel crunching under your feet. The lot is more packed dirt than pavement, full of holes and mud softened by rain.

Seeing a new face in a wretched little town like this probably isn’t common. Though you’re not familiar with growing up in such a small population, you remember what it was like knowing everyone at school. The same theory applies here when a portly man with raised brows stands, screen door in hand as he stares at you.

The man blocks the way to the inside of the diner. You pause and look up, noting the confusion on his face. After clearing your throat, he realizes that he’s completely frozen from opening the door and coughs, bowing his head and apologizing.

“You uh - visiting?” he asks, holding the door open for you. When you nod, he seems surprised, though that had to be the only answer. “Well, that doesn’t happen often. Welcome to Kill Devil.”

There’s a small host stand with a pile of laminated menus on top. A girl who looks to be about your age stares back at you, wiping her hands on a red apron tied around her waist. She’s in jeans and a t-shirt that says The Diner across the chest, her hair pulled up and stabbed through with a pen.

“Just you?” she asks, eyes fluttering to the man who shrugs behind you. You nod. “Right this way.”

The wooden walls are painted white, some of the paint peeling. There are miscellaneous animal heads with plaques underneath stating the names of their killers with a stamp of Jason’s Taxidermy. You try not to make eye contact with their black, glass eyes as you sit in a chair that wobbles from side to side.

You thank the hostess as she wanders off to get you coffee. The family at the table next to you does their best to whisper about who the hell is that as you look over the menu, flipping it to the breakfast side. The laminate is sticky and peeling at the corners.

It’s a pretty standard breakfast menu. You put it down on the table, nudging the container holding different colored sugar packets and sweeteners while you wait for your coffee. There’s a breakfast bar with people bent over steaming eggs and sitting atop cracked vinyl seats.

The door opens behind you at a steady rate as people pay their bills and leave while new customers are sitting. A presence at your back sends a cool tingle up your spine, making you straighten and look over your shoulder.

Hoseok stands in a shaft of sunlight coming through the window, turning him gold. For a moment, the diner around you falls to a hush of murmured voices, muting the clinking of spoons against ceramic and scraping chairs.

He’s dressed well again, in a simple white button-up with the button undone to reveal a strip of golden chest. His hair is slightly damp and styled back, an outrageously good look on him. The same hoop earring dangles in his ear but today he has on a few necklaces and rings on his fingers. Somehow, he makes the delicate pieces carry an edge.

“You survived the night, huh?” he says by way of greeting and then gestures to the chair across from you. “Would you mind company for breakfast?”

You shake your head, forgetting words for a moment as he smiles, radiant as ever. Hoseok pulls out the chair and sits down, a twinkle in his eye that makes your heart flutter as he plucks a menu from the holder at the center of the table. You can smell his rain and lavender scent from across the table.

“Thanks again,” you say, realizing you haven’t spoken yet. His brown eyes look at you over the top of the menu, and you can’t help but admire how beautiful they are. Warm, both dark and light, with flecks of chipped gold. “For the bug killer. I haven’t seen any more but I just know they’re there.”

“That’s the shitty thing about the South. All of God's least favorite creatures are here.” He glances at the table of scowling men next to you to emphasize. You hide your laughter with the plastic menu. “What brings you to this shit hole?”

“I’m… visiting my sister.”

“You sound unsure of that. Does she not know you’re coming?”

“She doesn’t.”

While they aren’t technically lies, you don’t know how much you can trust him. Instinct makes you hold the truth from him. After all, you don’t want him to know you’re in a town where no one knows you, and where no one knows you are. By yourself.

Hoseok looks at you again, his eyes narrowed. You feel tension creep into the air between you, your mouth drying out as he watches you silently.

The arrival of the hostess who is also your server saves you from another question. You both place your order, and you note the way the girl cuts her eyes to Hoseok, wary. Her hands shake a little.

When she leaves the two of you, you ask, “How long have you been here?”

“A few weeks.”

“Enough to win over the locals, hmm?”

His grin is sly as he drums his fingers on the table. “I’m their favorite - you’re perceptive.”

“My sister is an investigative journalist. She’s made me watch all kinds of shows and read books about psychology and body language with her. I picked up a few things.”

“An investigative journalist, huh?” Hoseok plucks a sugar packet and rips it open with his teeth. He shoots the ripped piece onto the table with a huff of air and dumps the contents on the table. Leaning on one elbow, he begins to trace patterns in the sugar. “So you’re not from here. No one here is smart enough for that.”

“No, she’s been living here since July.”

“What’s she investigating?” You hesitate again. He doesn’t look up from the patterns he’s tracing on the table, finger steady as it cuts through the white sugar.

“I don’t really know.” He does look up when you say that, gaze razor-sharp. A chill slides up your spine. So you add, “Something to do with the occult.”

Hoseok stops moving his finger through the sugar. He doesn’t look at you, but he’s fixated on the mess he’s made on the table. You chew on your bottom lip, eyes dropping to his little sweetened artwork. You don’t understand the pattern that he’s traced, but it buzzes your brain when you look at it.

The silence stretches on. He remains unmoving and silent. Anxiety starts to creep in and you wonder if he thinks you’re crazy or is going to get up and leave-

With a huff of laughter, he leans back and smiles at you.

“The occult huh? Interesting subject.”

“Know anything about it?”

He shrugs a shoulder. “I mean, what is really considered occult? Most of these Bible thumpers around here would consider being queer witchcraft.”

“You have a point there. Don’t tell them I’m a witch.”

He grins. “You can join my coven, then.”

“Do you think they know there’s more than two genders?”

Hoseok’s laugh is infectious. You laugh along with him, visibly ruffling the feathers of the table next to you.

For a moment, the two of you share a secret smile at your little table, wedged between the people who go to church every Sunday and swear by Fox News at brunch. It feels good to know you’re not the only person completely out of place in Kill Devil.

The arrival of your server with steaming plates breaks the moment, but you feel better about your morning nonetheless. Especially when the conversation switches from stilted exchanges about your sister and the occult to things about you and Hoseok.

Over runny eggs on toast and crunchy bacon, you learn that Hoseok is a shop owner in a small town very far from Kill Devil. He brushes over the fact that he’s visiting family to tell you all about his small corner of the world and all of his favorite plants.

“Fiona is a venus fly trap,” he giggles with a snap of bacon. “She’s my second favorite, but what I really love is my pitcher plants. They eat bugs, mostly, but they like to devour frogs too. The frogs love to hide in them, but sometimes the pitcher plants take kindly to them and don’t eat them. It never lasts.”

“I would hate for them to eat the frogs.”

“Hmm, circle of life.”

“But the poor frogs!”

Hoseok isn’t swayed. “There has to be a balance to everything. The pitcher plants will kill the frogs eventually. Sometimes a predator likes to play with its prey. Their ecosystem doesn’t make sense. In order to pay back the food the pitcher plants bring them, the frog must die. It pays for power, in the end.”

“How do you mean?”

“Everything has a give and take.” He pauses to sip his coffee. He makes a face, opens a sugar packet, and empties it into the coffee. “In order to have life, we must have death. In order to have water, we must have fire, for earth, we must have air. There is a give and take in existence, and it has to stay that way.”

“If it doesn’t?”

“Chaos.”

“You know, a lot of theology believes that chaos created the world.”

“And perhaps it did. But in order to make the world, chaos needed…” Hoseok takes his butter knife in one hand and sticks out his pointer finger with the other. You watch as he places the knife horizontally across his finger, sliding it just so until he slowly lets it go, leaving it teetering back and forth, but never falling. “Balance. There has to be even weight on the scales to make it work.”

“Interesting. So you think there is true balance in the world.”

“Not always, which is why we must make it.”

“Hmm. You have some interesting opinions.”

“I am an interesting person.”

You like Hoseok. Conversation flows easily and it seems that he either doesn’t notice or does not care that he draws glances around the room, particularly when he gives a high-pitched laugh, leaning backward on the metal legs of his chair to clap his hands excitedly. You swear you see the table next to you flinch, though you can’t imagine why.

Hoseok insists on paying the bill, though you fight him all the way to the register. The elderly woman behind the till jams the pricing in from the ticket and slams the cash drawer shut when Hoseok hands over the bills. She makes sure not to tell you to have a good day, and you feel her sharp stare as you leave the interior of The Diner.

In fact, the stares of the citizens are just as intense outside. Hoseok rattles on about a time he got really high and forgot to feed his cat. “Yoongi was so mad he wouldn’t talk to me for a week.”

“What?” you ask, distracted by the way a group of men leaning against a red pickup glare. “Your cat talks?”

“Oh- he- well he meows, you know what I mean?”

“No, but I’m sure he was very vocal.” Hoseok smirks, toeing the gravel of the parking lot as you reach your car. You glance over at the pickup truck again, seeing the four sets of eyes fixated on the two of you. “Why does everyone around here stare?”

“They’ll ignore you soon enough if you ignore them.”

“They don’t seem to ignore you.”

He gives you a wry smile. “I guess you’re right. Going to visit your sister, then?”

Digging around in your bag, you search for keys. “Yeah, she lives out in some place called Grave Hollow. How creepy is that?”

Silence is your only answer. You look up, pausing the search for your keys to find him staring at you with a blank expression. Your heart skips a beat - it’s the same wiped-clean face he had when you mentioned your sister investigating the occult.

Licking your lips, you ignore the feeling of a weighted stone dropping into your stomach. Hoseok says nothing.

Then, he’s chipper again. “Well have fun,” he chirps, shrugging and giving a wave as he backs away to leave. “Hopefully she has some cool occult stuff to tell you about. You know where to find me!

It’s hard to keep track of the way Hoseok’s mood flips on a dime. You stare after him, but he’s all smiles and sunshine again before turning on a heel to walk out of the parking lot. His hands are tucked into his pockets and he tilts his face toward the azure sky, whistling a tune with a happy cadence.

Something sticks to you as you watch him leave. You don’t know what it is, this feeling that you’re missing a critical detail. It’s like your instincts are scratching lightly at the door, but you have no key to flip the lock and no crowbar to force it open.

Anxiety returns when you remember the weight of the eyes still focused on you. Hurriedly, you snatch your keys from your bag and get in your car, tossing your bag on the seat and starting the engine. As soon as it purrs to life, you feel instant relief.

You hope that it lasts.

According to the research you’d done on Kill Devil, the town had been officially founded in the 1700s. Of course, being ‘officially’ founded didn’t mean much in the way of Western colonization. You had little doubt that the migration of people to the South chased out Native American tribes, as was the story everywhere.

Kill Devil has been named such since its inception, which occurred a little after Georgia had been named an official state. The abundance of soil for cotton and peanut fields made it a wet dream for the expansion of cotton gins and eventually, peanuts - there was even a rumor that peanut butter had been invented in Kill Devil first, but you knew that to be untrue.

A small town with a small impact. That was Kill Devil at the heart of its existence. It has always had a small population of sleepy folk. No stop lights, one church, a lot of paper companies coming in and cutting down trees, and some farming fields for various reasons.

There’s no reason that for a tiny little dot on the map, the town should be significant.

And yet it had called your sister here.

The car bounces, the suspension whining as you drive down the dirt road. A clay wall comes up on either side of you, roots of trees sticking out periodically. There’s no shoulder to the road, the rain has deepened the ruts on either side. You’re careful to keep in the middle, slowing down as the road tightens on corners.

Pine stretches as far as the eye can see. You pass the occasional neon tape, marking sections of trees for the paper company to let grow a little longer before hacking them down. Several metal gates with keep out and declaring different hunting clubs flash by. There’s even a sign that says Rucker’s Meat Processing.

GPS is unreliable out in the sticks where the cell towers don’t quite reach. You keep an eye on the flattened paper map in the passenger seat, marked with your red marker to make sure you take the right road.

A sigh of relief escapes you when you see a little metal post with a turn-off sign: Kill Ditch South. The house that your sister is renting lives off of that, only a mile down the road or so. Long drives appear between the trees, houses parked at the end of them. You feel a little less alone in the woods now knowing that there are people around.

Though you’re not sure how helpful they would be if something was wrong.

Worry creeps into your stomach as you slow the car. There’s a little mailbox with the address your sister gave you. It’s at the end of a short drive that’s been layered with gravel to make the incline easier on tires. It crunches beneath the tires as you drive toward the modest, white house. Your sister’s Four Runner is parked outside, making your heart thunder.

Turning the car off, you slide out into the humid air, hands trembling. Locusts scream, hidden in the trees. The sun is at its zenith, beating down on you as you slowly walk toward the house. It’s a single-story with two sets of windows facing the front. A wrap-around porch that leans to the side stands empty, save for a single bench.

As you pass your sister's car, you notice that the grass underneath is dead and dry. As if the car hasn’t moved for a while, denying the grass any sun to live. It makes you feel nauseous, feet like anvils as you take your first step up the stairs.

The creak of the wood makes you flinch.

“Hanna?” You call, voice shakier than you want it to be. “Hanna, it’s me! Don’t freak out!”

No one answers. Your stomach bubbles like acid, the slow drip of sweat down your neck making a chill rattle up your spine. You reach the door and swallow thickly, lifting your hands and knocking loudly.

“Hanna?”

Nothing but the sound of the locusts answers you.

Your palms feel sweaty as you knock again. This time, your voice cracks when you call, “Hanna? Please answer the door.”

Wind sweeps across the trees. One thing about the wind in a land of pines and hills is that it’s loud, making a whooshing sound as it’s picked up by the boughs of the trees, rattling and letting their needles shake to the floor.

It’s cool at your back and you feel your lip wobble when you lower your hand to the doorknob. When you twist, the door opens immediately, swinging of its own volition when you let go.

Inside the house is the kind of silence that terrifies you in horror movies. The air is heavy. Your ears ring, searching for any rasp of sound to tell you that your sister is home. Licking your lips, you step over the threshold, the wooden floor cracking beneath the weight of your feet.

To the immediate left of the door is an open kitchen. There are dishes on the dry rack and plants in the window, though they are wilted and dry. You chew your lip as you step further into the house, eyes sweeping around.

A blue, painted table stands in the middle of the kitchen. Piles of mail sit on top of it with a fake plant centerpiece and your sister's car keys.

Across from the kitchen is an open doorway with a stacked washer and dryer, and a folding table. It smells faintly of detergent, clothes folded in neat piles as if Hanna had just completed a laundry day.

Everything is silent in the living room. The couch looks cozy, with piles of blankets draped across it. There’s a faint smell of vanilla, though the wick on the candle doesn’t look like it’s been lit in a while. Dust collects on the TV stand and there are sandals by the door that leads to the back porch.

Chewing your lip, you gently press your fingers to the door of Hanna’s bedroom, holding your breath. The sudden fear that it’s going to swing open and you’ll find your sister dead in her bed nearly incapacitates you, making the room spin a little as the door fully swings open.

Nothing. No Hanna, no rotting smell of a dead body. Just an unmade bed in a room that smells vaguely of her cherry perfume, a bathroom with the door open, and a pile of clothes near the hamper.

The sight of the clothes on the floor and right next to the hamper slams you with a wave of nostalgia. You walk into the room and you unceremoniously plop yourself down on the edge of the bed. It sags underneath you but you don’t care, letting your face fall into your hands and letting a sob rip through you.

Hanna isn’t here. You knew she wouldn’t be, but the relief that you don’t find her dead is so poignant that you can barely breathe past the snot clotting your nose and the way your throat constricts as you let out the fear.

The sobs subside and you wipe your face, hands coming away sticky and wet. Through swollen eyes, you look around the room. With a wipe of your hands on your jeans, you get up and start looking around, pulling open drawers and looking for evidence of the last time that Hanna was in this home.

It’s slow going. You’re unfamiliar with the space and you don’t know what to look for. It doesn’t seem like she had packed anything, but then again, how would you know if she did?

There are signs that she hasn’t been in the house in weeks. Rotted food inside of the fridge, molded bread in the pantry.

Outside, weeds grow around the steps. A cricket pops from the railing to the grass where its green body vanishes. The yard isn’t much of a yard - it’s open to the trees and a kudzu field to the west.

Back inside, you grab Hanna’s keys and open her car. There is nothing inside that looks like she was trying to make a quick getaway. An extra pair of shoes shoved in the back, and an empty grocery bag she was using for trash - all normal things.

In the passenger seat, you strike gold.

Hanna’s journals and folders sit in the passenger seat, stacked in a leaning tower with pages sticking out from the edges of her books and slanted handwriting scrawled on the folder tabs. Gathering all of it, you head back inside and deposit the stack on the kitchen table before looking around the house again to see if there’s any sign of her.

Something in your gut tells you that Hanna hasn’t been in the home for at least a month, if not more.

Dread creeps into your stomach as you gather items and pack a bag. Your intention is to keep it on you at all times in the event that you find her cold and alone somewhere. The thought of needing it leaves a sour tang on your tongue, but you pack it nevertheless.

Bag over your shoulder and stack of Hanna’s investigative work in hand, you head off to your room at the motel. The afternoon sun still burns hot over your head, but you have no intention of sitting in the empty house that carries the scent of your sister’s absence.

… While most historical accounts and official state documents indicate that Kill Devil was founded in 1730, journals buried deep in the city’s crumbling library have written records of townsfolk living in this settled town long before it was declared an official town. The journals reference the town as Covenstead and are filled with generations of the same family names.

Booth.

Park.

Warren.

Kim.

Jung.

Jeon.

Min.

Generations of these families settled in Covenstead and built what is now Kill Devil. From the description of the town in the collection of journals, it appears that the general layout of the town is similar to Kill Devil’s current city map.

Throughout the journals, there is a reference to the Wood. It seems to be a place mentioned in reverence, and there are allusions to celebrations in the Wood with entries dated in alignment with sabbats on the Wheel of the Year.

Only Mabon is referenced in any of the journals explicitly, in a strange entry from a man named Yoongi Min. I have written it here for safekeeping: We bringeth the little lamb to The Wood today for the honor of Mabon. I loathe seeing him go, for he hath brought cheer and many a smile to the Covenstead. May he bring us blessings and warmth in the winter.

Your finger traces over your sister’s writing. She still writes in her cramped, crooked way, with the sabbats of pagan holidays crammed in the margins. You smile, biting your bottom lip again as you go through the written notes of her study. It is dizzying and you’re unsure what exactly you’re looking at, but something tickles the back of your mind as you reread the entry she copied from the long-dead Yoongi Min. There’s something you're missing.

This time, your eyes snag on a word.

“The Covenstead,” you murmur, reading it over again. “Why would he call it the Covenstead? Is that just an older way of speaking?”

A tingle pricks your neck as you stare at the entry. You can’t understand what made your sister think this entry was odd besides the old-fashioned writing and reference to Mabon, because she writes nothing more on her analysis, and none of the journals she had been studying were anywhere you could find.

Sighing, you push away her notebook and pull out a collection of folders and papers that she had on the town. It’s mostly renderings of the town in its heyday with maps and newspaper articles. There seems to be no correlation between her clippings of new business openings and random town news.

Kill Devil Court House Gets New Building

Bird Flu? Poultry Farm in Trouble After Flock Dies

The Grove Neighborhood Building Plans Accepted by Mayor

Mayor’s Son Experiences Fatal Well Accident

Something catches your eye in the article about the mayor’s son who fell into a well and died at the bottom. You reach for your sister's notebook and flip to read the small dates shoved into the margins.

Mayor’s Son Experiences Fatal Well Accident

June 19, 1781

Litha: Summer Solstice

June 19-23

Grabbing the other newspaper clippings, you climb off of the bed and lay them flat against the sheets, each crinkling under the excited press of your fingers as your brain whirs. It’s a puzzle your sister seems to have figured out already, and one you don’t expect to understand.

But you do.

Kill Devil Court House Gets New Building

February 14, 1899

Bird Flu? Poultry Farm in Trouble After Flock Dies

March 19, 1899

Ostara: Spring Equinox

March 19-22

You suck in a breath as you look at the next clipping, using your pointer finger to keep your place on the sabbats calendar your sister has written down to see that the article for the new neighborhood The Grove is dated only a month before the mayor's son fell tragically in the well.

“Holy shit, Hanna,” you mutter, rubbing a hand over your mouth and staring with burning eyes at the dates. “They match with pagan rituals? Something good, followed by something bad… like revenge? Punishment? Payment?”

The question bothers you. A flutter in your gut tells you that you’re asking the right questions as you stare at the pages, unseeing and trying to understand what your sister is getting at. She didn’t write down her thoughts explicitly - in case anyone stole her work, she’d said - and now you’re wishing she weren’t so paranoid. Or that she at least used a computer.

It isn’t an easy answer to puzzle out. An ache has settled deep in your temples and your half-eaten dinner has long gone cold. You decide you’ve earned a shower, though you don’t go into the bathroom without the bug spray armed and ready.

Briefly, you think about Hoseok. Such an oddity to the town. You can’t help but think about the way he changes from light to dark so quickly, face becoming shadowed and eyes masked, expression there and gone so quickly that you’re unsure if you saw it at all.

Strange. It’s all very strange.

There is a shadow in the parking lot again. This time, it’s closer. The bulb burning above the lot flickers, but stays on. The shadow stands just beyond the silver halo of light it distributes.

No moon hangs in the sky. It is dark dark dark - impossibly dark. You stare through a crack in your curtains, watching the shadow as it watches you. Dread weighs down the pit of your stomach and you feel a fresh wave of terror-laced nausea sweep through you.

You slide a foot backward gently, preparing to step away from the window. The shadow twitches and cocks its head to the side, not unlike a dog curious about something it’s heard. You suck in a sharp breath and hold it in, air screaming in your lungs, heart racing a frantic staccato.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck it seems to say, beating until it’s all you can hear and feel, pumping your system so full of adrenaline that you feel light-headed.

Your heart turns into a drum, frantic. It beats louder and louder and you feel rooted to your spot on the carpet, the soles of your feet surgical-stitched to the ugly shag carpet. You stare and stare and stare at the shadow and your heart is hammering so loud boom boom BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM-

Sweat-drenched and gasping for air, you sit up. Your heart pounds so hard you can feel it under the palm you have pressed against your chest. But the banging is coming from the hotel door, a steady stream of closed-fist hammering and Hoseok’s voice calling your name.

Peeling the covers back from your damp skin, you stumble to the door, nightmare-drunk and disoriented. You forget to remove the chain from the door, yanking it open and immediately slamming it to a stop as the chain pulls, refusing to let the door open.

Hoseok is on the other side, hair slightly disheveled, brows pulled together. He’s in a t-shirt and sweatpants, a casual look by anyone’s standards but still effortlessly put together.

“Shit, hold on,” you slur, tongue heavy in your mouth with sleep. Closing the door, you slide the chain out, then reopen it successfully. “Sorry, is everything-”

“What’s going on?”

“What?”

His gaze is thunderous as he looks past you into your room. “You were screaming at the top of your lungs.”

Heat flushes your neck and face. “I-I’m sorry. I was having a nightmare. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I’m not mad. What’s going on?”

In the shadow of the night, he looks dangerous, made up of edges and eyes narrowed. “Can I come in?”

You open the door and move out of his way. “Sure.”

“Thanks.”

Out of habit, you latch the door when you shut it.

Hoseok is a little out of place in your room. Even when dressed down, he looks like he belongs on a private jet, lounging among soft, polished leather and sipping exotic coffee. Not in a rundown motel room with peeling wallpaper and smoke-stained ceilings.

“What’s all this?” Your stomach plummets when he sees the journals and papers on your bed. you rush to shove it all under the blanket but Hoseok is fast, plucking a sheet of paper and looking over it, face pinched. “Is this what you meant by your sister studies the occult?”

“Yeah, sorry, I was just um- looking over her work.”

“You know about the occult?”

“Not at all.”

He glances at you, razor-sharp. “Then why would you be looking it over for her?”

The atmosphere shifts. It occurs to you that he doesn’t know your sister is missing. Has no idea that you’re desperately trying to put together pieces of a broken puzzle, without any clue on where to find the remaining parts to view the entire picture.

You weigh the options of lying, losing precious time as the silence hangs heavy and awkward between the two of you. He watches, brows raised and expectant, fingers gripping the paper.

“My sister is missing.” It feels weird to say it. Your tongue feels heavy and as you stare over his shoulder at a fixed spot on the wall, it feels like someone else enters your body to tell him, “I came here because no one would help me find her. She was here studying the town's occult myths for work and vanished. I had this… horrible feeling when she stopped calling and answering.”

“Have you contacted the authorities?”

You scoff and throw a glare at him. “Of course I have. It’s useless and frustrating. No one seems to give a shit that there is a missing person, and every lawyer, law officer and city official I talk to don’t fucking care. It’s like they’re all programmed to give me the same answer. They keep telling me that they’ve seen her around or that she’s probably ignoring me on purpose. They make me seem crazy.”

You expect him to tell you to leave it to the authorities. That’s what Hanna’s boss had told you to do. No one seems to be alarmed, no one cares. But you do. Desperately. And you cannot wrap your head around them looking the other way.

You’re preparing for the same reaction when Hoseok surprises you by saying, “You’re not crazy.”

“I’m not?”

He quirks a brow and his rosebud lips twitch in a smirk. “Well, you probably are. But not for this. Have you asked around town about her?”

You shake your head. “I only went to the house that she was staying at. I wanted to see if maybe she really was ignoring me or maybe just… I don’t know. In the zone for work. She wasn’t there and it doesn’t look like there was any sign of distress.”

“Take me there.”

“Right now?”

“Yes.” He tosses the papers onto the pile on your bed. “We’ll be safe.”

“First of all,” you hedge. “How do I know that? I barely know you. Second of all, what is going there in the middle of the night going to help?”

“I’m good at investigating. Maybe I’ll see something that you don’t.”

“Sorry, are you a cop now?”

“No, it’s hard to explain but I promise I’m trying to help you.” When you don’t move, Hoseok grimaces. “Look,” he explains evenly. “I really am trying to help you. I haven’t been entirely honest about why I’m here in this town. I came because I was also interested in some things happening here. Now I’m worried your sister is involved.”

Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest. “Involved how?”

“I don’t know. I’m hoping it’s a coincidence. Believe it or not, those do happen. But I’d like to visit her house to see if there’s anything at all that sticks out to me.” You hesitate, chewing on your lip. You don’t really know him, and now you trust him even less with his reasoning. “Please,” he adds.

You relent. “Fine.” Hanna is your main goal. You don’t trust Hoseok, but you wonder if he really can help you when no one else has. “Let’s go.”

Damp air rushes through the open windows of your car. You lowered them as you got in for a quick escape if Hoseok attacks you while you drive. He says nothing in the passenger seat, eyes fixed on the pine trees rushing behind you.

Outside, the world is painted night-blue from the moon. There’s a weird hue to everything, making it feel as though you’re wading with heavy limbs through a dream. It’s no better when you arrive at the dark house.

It looks terrifying at night. There’s no street light to guide you, only that of the silver moon and the bright halogen lights of your car. You turn off your vehicle but switch the headlights on, turning on the high beams to shine on the house.

On the edges of where the light fades to shadow, your fear lies. The trees look taller than in the daylight, their branches like craggy limbs and reaching fingers. Anxiety bubbles uncomfortably in your stomach.

Each crunch of the grass beneath your feet falls too loud against the heavy silence. Here, you notice that the crickets are no longer singing. It’s just the hush of the wind gusting through the canyons and the far-away swell as it blows up the hills.

Though it’s not cool outside, there’s a chill on your skin. Hoseok walks up to the house, the beams of the car’s headlights throwing his shadow across it in jarring, monstrous shapes. You keep your eyes focused on him and your keys tucked in your hand, ready to use them as a weapon if needed.

Hoseok doesn’t seem concerned about your anxiety or the silence thrumming around the home. He walks up the steps and opens the door, vanishing into the dark mouth of the threshold. For a moment, you stand in the front yard, getting tunnel vision as you stare at the darkness in the doorway.

You imagine stepping over the threshold into that cool dark, letting it suck you in. You imagine that as soon as your shoes hit the creaking floor, Hoseok will snatch you by the waist and pull you into the belly of the beast. Once in his clutches, he’ll throw you to the ground and the last thing you’ll remember is-

Hoseok reappears in the doorway. You blink and the waking nightmare melts away, so vivid that you’re shaking where you’re standing, looking at him in confusion. He hops down the stairs, scowling as he crosses the front lawn in a few long strides.

He pauses when he sees your face. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“I…” you shake your head, trying to dispel the weird vision you had a moment ago. “Nothing. I just don’t like the dark very much.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Did you find anything?”

His lip twitches. It’s almost impossible to detect, but you’re so focused on his face and trying not to picture him as the man in the terrifying thought you had moments ago, that you see it. “No.”

Lying. He’s lying. You clutch your keys and your breath quickens. He moves to round the side of the car and take the passenger seat, but you step in front of him. He pulls up short, eyes narrowing as you stand between him and the vehicle, blood pumping.

“I think you’re lying.”

“About what?”

“A lot of things.”

“What gives you that impression?”

“My instinct.”

He hums. “Instinct isn’t always a good thing.” He looks you up and down. “I didn’t find anything,” he says again. “I just got a really weird feeling inside of the house.”

“And?”

“And it’s the same weird feeling I’ve gotten in other places where people visiting went missing. Including the motel we’re staying at.” That makes you recoil. You feel the blood drain from your face, making you a little dizzy. You don’t know what’s going on, don’t understand what he’s getting at. “Your sister’s notes were about the covenstead here.”

That word again. The covenstead and not Covenstead, like a town name. “It was the town name before it was Kill Devil.”

“No,” he corrects. “It was a landmark. A covenstead, for people who lived here. A coven.”

“A coven.” He nods. “Like vampires and witches?”

Hanna’s notes had included all of those pagan holidays crammed in the margins of her work. Marking dates of occurrences that coincided with sabbat holidays. “Hoseok,” you say slowly. “Are you telling me that a bunch of witches live here and have kidnapped my sister?”

He regards you for a moment, eyes flickering up and down. His face is unreadable and dark in the night air, eyes shadowed and haunting. “That’s actually exactly what I’m saying.”

“Witches aren’t real.”

He frowns. “I can prove that they are.”

“How?”

He gestures to the car. “Let’s go.”

When you were younger, your sister always believed in magic. You remember spending all of October huddled on the couch with crocheted blankets, watching Halloween movies with the blanket pulled warm over scabbed knees, with popcorn-greased fingers tucked under heated thighs. Hanna always picked the movies - Halloween was her time of the year and you were happy to indulge.

Hanna’s choices were always superb. Hocus Pocus received more airtime than anything else, replayed between Halloweentown one and two, Practical Magic, The Witches and The Addams Family among others. Every night of the month was crammed full of magic and spells and haunted houses, sweetened by candy corn and Butterfingers.

Those were the nights that you loved the most. There was no fighting, no whining and crying over Hanna stealing your hair clips or you breaking her hair dryer. It was just the two of you, pressed skin-to-skin and spelled by the scrolling movies.

It’s as close to magic as you’ve ever been. You don’t think you were ever closer to her than in those moments. Under the blankets and the dim candles your mother lit, you were one being, melded. You knew when she would gasp at every jump scare and whisper each one of her favorite lines.

Thinking back on it, you wonder if Hanna was onto something. She always insisted that parts of the movies had to be true. Stories are rooted in history, and though myth and legend changed with culture, colonization and the introduction of new religions, science and ideas, there was something about the concept of magic and spirit that felt real to her.

It was why she went to school and majored in journalism with minors in folklore and history. She had even started a master's program for occult studies and folklore, spending late nights studying between traveling across the country from haunt to haunt for her job.

Staring at her work on the bed of your hotel room as Hoseok adds some of his own notes and findings, you have never missed her more. There is a sudden ache inside of your chest, so strong that it takes your breath away. Your hand goes to the necklace at your neck, feeling flushed, heart pounding.

Hoseok is explaining how there used to be a coven of witches that lived in the Wood long before Kill Devil existed. The Wood, Hoseok explains, is like a living and breathing conduit of power. It was something that gave the coven power but also needed to be fed.

The Covenstead. You remember the journal entry that had called it the covenstead. A place where witches commune and live together as one functioning body of magic. That much power does things to a place, skews the way the world works a little bit. He gives examples of places all around the world with similar experiences: the Bermuda Triangle, Door To Hell, Reed Flute Cave. All places where an abundance of magic and energy warps the way life functions.

But the Wood was strange before the witches got here. Hoseok rolls out a map, fingers tracing the lines of the city. Clarity snaps like a rubberband stinging against skin as you stare at it, lips parted, inhaling sharply.

The city roads make a pentagram, and at the very center is the courthouse.

“This is on purpose,” Hoseok explains. “There are other places in the world where the way the city or town or village is built is like a pentagram. Usually, these are called portals. They’re different from faerie rings which have their own power and distortions. These portals are for practicing witches and those who know how to use them.”

“Portals for what?”

“Creatures of great power that exist in worlds that don’t belong to us. Part of what gives witches their ability to perform magic is their energy. They are attuned to the world around them in a way that humans are not.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you understand the concept of third and fourth dimensions?”

“Third dimension is what we live in,” you answer mechanically, somewhat familiar with the idea. “If a fourth dimension existed, we wouldn’t know because it moves in a way that we are unable to perceive. The fourth dimension, in theory, is movement and sight we would never have.”

“Exactly. But witches are attuned to that. These pentagrams,” Hoseok murmurs, tapping the map. “Are made to connect to the fourth dimension. Pentagrams are not inherently evil or even paranormal, but similar to sacred geometry, they… radiate at a frequency that other dimensions do. Powerful symbols like this have existed since Mesopotamia.”

“I… how does this prove that magic is real?”

For a moment, you’re distracted by the way Hoseok’s artful fingers pluck your sister's notebook from the bed. He flips until you’re looking at her journal entries and the newspaper clippings with dates and headlines.

“Witchcraft is different in every culture and part of the world. These holidays have roots in Celtic and Welsh craft. It was brought over by the pilgrims when people fled England and traveled here. This is old - not as old as whatever lives in the Wood, but old enough that it’s powerful. These dates you’re looking at? They’re sacrifices to keep the Wood powerful.”

“How do you even know all of this?”

“I’ve studied it my entire life.”

“Why?”

“It’s just something that runs in my family. We’re very spiritual people.” Something about the way his voice wavers makes you look at him sharply. Hoseok isn’t looking at you, busying himself with sifting through papers. There’s a pinch in your gut that makes you think he’s lying, but you’re afraid to push the matter.

“Get some rest,” he says, breaking your exhausted train of thought. “We can talk more in the morning when you’re not exhausted.”

“Yeah.” You rub your weary eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

With Hoseok gone, you crawl into the bed, leaving the light on, staring off into the distance as your hand clutches your necklace. Your lip trembles and your throat constricts painfully. When you close your eyes, you feel tears slide down your face.

Tucking your face into the pillow to hide your tears, you let out a small, aching sound. You just want to know where your sister is, and somehow you’ve landed in the middle of a hateful little town with strange little people and a strange little fantasy.

Crying is inevitable. But at least it puts you to sleep.

This time, you know you’re dreaming. You don’t know how you know, but you do. There’s a watery feeling to the hotel room when you open your eyes. As though you’re both there and you’re not.

You glance at the clock but the numbers are all wrong. You rub your eyes and look again, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t make sense of them.

You want to sit up. You move your arms - no, you try to move your arms. They don’t move, suddenly too heavy to slide under the covers of your blanket and peel it back. Panic sparks in you as you try to shift your legs, but though you can feel them, you can’t move them.

Terror as you’ve never known slides between your ribs, sharp and poignant. You can’t breathe and you know you’re dreaming and yet you can’t move. You close your eyes, brain repeating the same words over and over again: wake up wake up wake up wake up WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP-

It doesn’t happen. You open your eyes and your room still has the dream-glazed light to it, and you still can’t move. Something shifts in your peripheral vision. Your heart seizes in your chest so sharply you think you’ll die.

You cannot turn your head to look at the shadow that moves just beyond your sight. Tears slip from your eyes, hot, wet and burning. You can’t wipe them. They blind you, turn your vision into an opaque, watery mess as something slides to the foot of your bed.

When you feel the mattress dip, you try to scream. The sound is locked in your throat, with so much force behind it that you wait for your vocal cords to explode. The fear is raw now, your eyes wild, tears leaking as you mentally thrash and thrash and thrash.

Weight shifts on either side of the bed and you have the sense that there is someone crawling on you but you can’t see beyond your crying, can’t hear beyond the pounding of your own heartbeat slamming in your ears, blocking out every other noise and-

Something invisible to you grips your throat. You still have the instinct to move, driving you to madness as your brain signals for your hands to fly to your assailant and yank and remove the hold on your neck.

It’s crushing. You gasp for air, no noise coming out as the grip tightens, and you know with certainty that this is it. Whatever dream this is will kill you, this time.

The realization that you’re going to die suddenly mutes the terror. It slides behind a glass door, beating its fists, but it's duller now. You have sharper clarity, and briefly you think of what Hoseok said about beings from the fourth dimension, and how the witches summon them through their craft here. To this place. Where you cannot perceive them.

You wonder if this happened to Hanna. You miss her, your sister, with big dreams and fast smiles and a head full of magic and wondering. This, you think, is how you go. And perhaps you’ll join her.

Thoughts blend together, sloshed wine in a glass. They’re warm and liquid and have no shape to them, no real purpose. It’s like you know you’re thinking, but you don’t know of what. Darkness pools at the edge of your vision. It feels cold and alone but you drift toward it, away from the pain.

And then you can breathe.

Air comes sweeping in, forcing its way into your mouth, into your lungs. Your lungs inflate so painfully that for a split second, you think they’re on fire. Oxygen burns its way through you and bursts of color explode on the canvas of your closed eyes - you don’t remember closing your eyes.

You roll over in bed, coughing, mouth wet with spit and phlegm as you try to gulp in as much air as you can.

High-pitched ringing whines in your ears, and there are muffled sounds on the other end of it. The motel room tilts back into vision, melting into place. You think that the room has reloaded into your world wrong - everything is crooked.

Then you realize you’re laying on your side, gagging and gasping for air. There is a hand against to your back, palm cold, fingertips freezing. The touch, you realize, feels full of energy, your spine tingling where it’s pressed against you.

Lurching away from the touch, you roll to the side of the bed, looking at the person whose hand had been pressed against you.

Hoseok’s tangled in the sheets, hair a mess, shirtless and in sweats. He’s panting, flushed, and there’s a sheen of sweat on his body. But it’s his eyes that stop you from scrambling away. They’re dark, burning like two pieces of coal as he looks at you, kneeling with his hands in his lap, palms facing the ceiling.

Hoseok says something. The ringing in your ears has just started to die down and you shake your head, unsure of what he means and not confident in your ability to speak.

“What?”

“Are you okay?”

You stare at him. “What the fuck just happened to me?”

“This is my fault, I’m so sorry.”

“What?”

He lifts his hands and you flinch. The look on his face is pure heartbreak, shrouded in golden light. “Please,” he murmurs. “Let me help you. I’m not going to hurt you.”

It’s quiet, save for the sound of the humming air conditioner.

Trust your gut, your sister had said.

So you do because he’s offered to help you thus far. You nod, giving him access to you. He sags in relief, shuffling forward tentatively as he takes your face in his hands. His palms are impossibly warm. Your eyes flutter shut at the touch, unable to look at him this close, this boy of light and something, as he cradles your face.

Warmth pools in your face, saturating down to your neck and chest. The ache in your lungs eases, and the lump in your throat continues to recede. You don’t want to ask what he’s doing. You don’t want to think. You don’t want to feel the terror of moments ago ever again, and with the way Hoseok is touching you, so close that his breath fans your brow, and you can smell him like rain and lavender, you want to embrace it.

There’s no thought process to the way you lean up into him. Your eyes are closed, your breath shaking as you seek him. Hoseok makes a surprised noise, but it vanishes as you press your lips against his.

Relief sweeps through you. It’s nothing you’ve ever felt before, every drop of terror fading away, momentarily forgotten. Every ache vanishes. It’s just Hoseok and the way he burns brighter than the sun, and the way it doesn’t hurt anymore.

After a brief moment of hesitation, he kisses you back. It’s sweet and soft-lipped, his fingers pressing into the side of your face gently as he pulls you to him. You follow his pull, both physically and something like a tether, getting up on your knees to get closer.

Hoseok breaks the kiss, nose brushing yours. You open your eyes, half-lidded and feeling dizzy from just the gentle press of lips. His eyes are dark, but you see the light flecks of brown in them, like an entire world of sun and stars exist in their depths.

“Make it go away,” you whisper.

You don’t specify. The pain, the nightmares, the fear, the weird town, the worry about your sister. You want it all to stop and this person you barely know - you feel as though he can take it away. Or mute it.

He nods, eyes closing as he kisses you properly. You forget what you were worried about, and it’s all you can do not to fall headfirst into Hoseok. His mouth is warm and wet, tongue soft but greedy as he pries your mouth open, drinking you in.

Hoseok’s lips tingle against yours, sending a shiver skating down your spine. You wrap your hands around his neck, fingers tangling in the silky strands there. He hums appreciatively when your nails slow-scratch at the base of his scalp.

Carefully, Hoseok shuffles you into his lap. Your knees dip on the mattress on either side of his hips, straddling his waist. His hands find the hem of your sleep shirt and pull upward. You break the kiss, a string of spit connecting your flushed mouths before the garment breaks it.

The room is cold, air hitting your bare chest and hardening your nipples immediately. You whine but Hoseok is fast, pressing your chest to his as he attaches his mouth to your neck, sucking at the tender flesh sharply.

“Fuck,” you whisper, letting your head drop backward heavily. Your eyes are shut and the world feels like it’s spinning. He has one hand on your hip, the other on the small of your back, pressing you to him to keep you warm and to rock your hips gently into his. “Feels good.”

He hums in response, sucking wet stains onto your flesh as he moves toward your chest. You push your tits out to meet his searching mouth, gasping lightly when the rough drag of his tongue swipes across your nipple.

The sensation is overwhelming. Your fingers dig into the back of his neck as Hoseok sucks your peak greedily. You’re grinding into his lap on your own now, panties clinging to your hot, sticky folds as you seek friction. He’s hard beneath you and you want to feel him.

Letting you rut in his lap, Hoseok drags delicate fingers over the curve of your ass and thigh, and his nails leave goosebumps in their wake. The feeling between your legs and at the base of your spine is heady as he lets go of one nipple with a sharp pop, tongue tracing a sloppy line to the other.

Hoseok’s teeth tease the tight bud and you whine. “Oh?” he asks, voice rough and low. “Gonna be a baby about it?”

You shake your head, but your lip juts out as you look at him, dazed. “Want more.”

“Tell me.”

Dropping one hand from his neck, you take the hand resting on your thigh, guiding it between your legs. Hoseok presses the pads of his fingers to your underwear and you let out a keen. It’s not nearly enough, but the pressure sends another wave of arousal flooding through you.

“Hmm,” he hums, dragging his fingers back and forth over the damp cloth. “Soaked from just that, huh?” You nod and he bites your collarbone. Fuck, he’s going to kill you, sending another tremble down your frame. He hooks a finger in your underwear, sliding against your glossy folds experimentally and he curses, “Fuck. Pussy is already messy and I’ve barely touched you.”

“Please.”

“What do you want? I already asked.”

“More.” Hoseok presses your clit, letting you drip onto his fingers, but he doesn’t move them. You grit your teeth. “Want your fingers,” you ask through clenched teeth. “Fuck me with them, anything. Please.”

He grins, face wicked before he kisses your nose. “See, you just had to tell me.”

You’re tense as he pulls your underwear to the side, shoving the fabric against your thigh. Cool air hits your cunt. You can’t recall ever wanting someone like this, vibrating uncontrollably as he traces your slit with his fingers, lazily circling your clit.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips and you drop your forehead on Hoseok’s shoulder. He lets you sag against him as he plays with your pussy, fingers barely dipping to tease your hole and gather juices before coming back to trace your clit, applying delicious pressure.

It feels so good. It’s mind-numbing, letting him do what he wants. Hoseok pants in your ear, breathing stilted between chaste kisses against the side of your head.

Painfully slow, Hoseok inserts a single finger into your wet heat. The sound you let out is high-pitched and loud. It’s not nearly enough, but you lose all sense of asking for more as his finger slides in deep, pressing against your front wall to massage that delicate spot inside of you.

“Oh shit,” you stutter, unable to help it.

He laughs, voice deep when he asks, “Yeah? That the spot?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He slow-drags his finger in and out of your pussy, fucking you slowly. He curses, teasing you only for a moment before he gifts you another. The stretch is so much better, and you melt. He thrusts leisurely, not hard and fast but deep. Your walls swallow his fingers, gripping them and begging him not to stop as a tight coil winds in your stomach as he presses hard against your g-spot.

It’s messy, the wet drag of his fingers in your cunt. You feel the slow drip of arousal every time he pulls back, soaking his hand. It drops down your thighs as he picks up the pace. You lift your hips a little, adding a bounce to his motions.

“Oh? You wanna do it?” He stops moving his hand and you let out a desperate sound. He laughs. “No, go ahead. If you’re so eager, do it yourself. Fuck yourself on my fingers.”

Seeking balance by holding his shoulders, you grip him tight, face tucked in his neck as you maneuver yourself, using your knees to lightly fuck yourself on his fingers. It feels so good, and you adjust the angle until you feel him hit that spot again, making you see stars.

It’s electric, this feeling rippling in your bloodstream. It feels different with Hoseok and you can’t place why, but your orgasm is building so sharply in your stomach that you nearly stop thrusting, overwhelmed by the sensation.

The pressure in your stomach winds and winds and winds until it snaps, every muscle in your thighs and ass squeezing tight, your hands turning to an iron grip, breath stuck in your lungs as you let out a strangled sound, squeezing Hoseok’s fingers as you come.

Hoseok is whispering something in your ear, but you can’t hear him over the thundering heartbeat of your pulse, shaking as you come down from your high. When you do, you’re vaguely aware that he’s pulled his fingers out, but he’s massaging the tight ring of muscles, making you shiver.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Wanna see you stretch yourself on my cock like that.”

“Wanna,” you mumbled.

Your limbs are heavy and lazy as you shuffle, uncoordinated. Hoseok laughs, finding you endearing as you scowl and shift off his lap. His touch is featherlight as he pulls your panties off. You need him, completely naked and shivering as your eyes drop from the smooth, carved planes of his chest and abs to the heavy imprint of his cock in his sweats.

And the wet stain mess you’ve made.

Flushed, you watch as he looks up at you, smirking. “Go on.”

Scooting toward him with eager hands, you rest with your feet tucked under you. Dipping your touch below his waistband, you grasp him firmly, cock heavy in your hand. He sighs, head tilting back a little while you slide your grip along his shaft.

Brushing your thumb over his tip to collect hot, sticky precum, you spread it, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you stroke him gently, testing the waters. His hips twitch and his mouth parts, gold light of the lamp turning him into Giovanni’s Apollo. He is ethereal, a burning sun and you suddenly understand why Icarus flew to his demise.

Maybe you will too.

With your other hand, you push Hoseok’s sweats down. Though you could feel the size and swollen weight of him in your hand, it’s still a marvel when you see his thick length, dark tip oozing precum.

A hiss escapes his teeth when you give him a firm squeeze. He lets you pump him lazily, and your mouth catches the underside of his jaw, teething and sucking sharp marks into his skin. He tastes like something electric and a little bit of sweat, your tongue buzzing.

“Hmm,” he hums, fingers gripping the back of your neck to pull your mouth back up to his. It’s more spit and him gasping into your mouth more than anything. “You know how stunning you are?”

You feel heat creep up in your cheeks. Hoseok shuffles away from you and you let go of your grip on him, watching his dick slap against his stomach, smearing precum. He sits near the headboard, leaning against the wallpaper and staring at you with hungry eyes.

“You’re going to make me shy,” you say softly, though you still crawl toward him. You can feel the slick slide of your inner thighs. He pumps his cock lazily, giving you a look that says he doesn’t believe you. “You’re pretty.”

“Think so?”

You nod, a little light-headed and uneven. You tilt toward the side and he catches you, hands sticky from your mixed arousal. Bending down, you capture his lips. Hoseok runs the crown of his cock through your folds and you moan, lips parting. He drinks in your sounds, licking them from the roof of your mouth.

For a moment, it’s just the teasing and sloppy kissing, pausing to pant into each other's mouths, slick from sweat. He presses the blunt head of his dick into your hole, dipping only a little before retreating and sliding back up to tease your clit.

“Hoseok,” you growl, biting on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, the iron tang blooming in your mouth. He hisses out a laugh and does it again. This time, you lower your pussy, trying to catch him on an angle to sink down on him. “Stoooop.”

“Whiny baby,” he teases again. “Cock-hungry, huh?”

“Wanna be full.”

“Mmm.”

Hoseok repeats the motion, but this time lets you sink slowly on the length of him. The stretch stings, hurt-laced pleasure as you suck in a sharp breath and hold it. It feels like your lungs might burst, shaking as you slide down until your ass rests on his damp thighs and you feel the tip of his cock deep in your gut.

“Fuck,” you gasp, leaning forward, palms pressed to his shoulders. They slide a little, his skin warm and sweaty. You dig your nails in for purchase and he sucks in a sharp breath, but lets you claw your way back to sanity from the feeling. “Deep.”

His hands find purchase on your ass, digging in and massaging. “Come on, then. You were so eager for my fingers.”

You lift your hips a little, the slide delicious against your warm walls, and drop down with a wet smack. You both moan at that and you grin, putting the weight into Hoseok’s shoulders as you lift your hips again, hypnotized by the wet schlick of your cunt sliding on his length.

Everything fades away again. Your thighs burn as you increase your movements, chasing the buzz that has settled deep in your stomach. Hoseok lets you use him, his eyes fixed on the way your cunt drips into his lap.

His nails bite into the meat of your ass and you feel dragged under by the pleasure, the sting of his grip and the pressure of his cock hitting your g-spot sending you further and further.

Your legs grow a little tired, movements sloppy. Hoseok doesn’t mind, planting his feet on the bed and thrusting upward to meet you, hands supporting your weight under your ass. He helps lift you, pulling you up and down until you’re mumbling incoherently.

It feels mind-numbingly good, and the tension in your stomach grows taught and tight, your second orgasm oncoming.

“Come on,” Hoseok demands between clenched teeth. “Give it to me.”

You nod, sliding a hand between your thighs, fingers circling your clit with just enough pressure and speed to get you shaking again. White spots appear in your vision as you squeeze your eyes shut, letting him take over and fuck up into you, cunt gushing as you come hard enough around him that you fall forward.

Hoseok lets you lay on his chest, dead weight as he claws at your ass and thighs, rutting up into you. You’re dimly aware of the soaked mess of your smacking bodies, but your ears are ringing and you feel lighter than you’ve ever felt before.

You begin to whine in oversensitivity just as Hoseok slams into you as deep as he can, cock twitching and filling you up. You shiver as he grunts, hips bucking with a wet squelch as he gently fucks you through his orgasm.

Both of you lay there in a messy pile as his cock softens inside of you. Cum pools between your pressed bodies, but you don’t care. The room is humid, the light dim with the haze of how far gone you feel. Hoseok traces soft circles on your hips with his fingers. Your mouth is pressed against his jaw, breath kissing his skin.

You could fall asleep here, you think. It’s nice to forget for a while, to let your body feel the pounding of his heart against your chest, the shaking of his thighs against yours, the ache in your muscles.

Heaviness tugs at you, so close to pulling you under, but Hoseok stirs. You feel drunk, letting him peel the two of you apart until you’re stumbling to the shower. The air makes your tacky, cum-covered skin cold.

It’s hard to fit both of you in the shower, but you manage it, rotating under the rough spray of the hot water, hands exploring and kneading sore muscles. Your lips are abused and feel bruised, but it doesn’t stop you from seeking the comfort of his mouth, the world turning to static every time you kiss him.

The motel room smells like sex and sweat when you return to peel clothes back on. Wordlessly, Hoseok takes your hand and leads you to his room on the other side of the wall. It has the same faded wallpaper, the same dusty and stained lampshades, but it looks more lived in.

There are added pieces in the room. A dehumidifier hums in the corner, and there is a hamper full of clothes. Hoseok has added plants near the window, plasticky leaves vibrant green and shiny. Burnt-out incense sits on the plastic folding table he’s erected, books and papers splayed out over its surface. There’s a collection of crystals you can’t identify.

An inviting bed beckons you. You both fall into it, heavy-limbed and sighing. It smells like Hoseok, a mix of rain and lavender. There’s a sense of trepidation as you roll over on the mattress.

Carefully, Hoseok pulls you to him. He presses your back to his chest, one arm going under his head as he yawns and smacks his lips lightly, the other looping over your waist.

“No one is going to bother you,” he sleep-slurs. “I got rid of them. And they won’t go against me.”

You hum, sleep crawling up and stealing your thoughts. You wonder how he got rid of them and why they’re afraid of him.

It isn’t until he mumbles a response that you realize you’ve spoken your question out loud. “Because,” he sighs, words slow and soft, as he drifts off to sleep. “I told them you’re mine.”

Hoseok’s words are lost on you because you’re long asleep.

No dreams disturb you. When you wake up, you feel the weight of the night before on you. It’s cool and empty behind you as you startle, realizing you’d fallen asleep with Hoseok there. You look over your shoulder, blinking away sleep, and see that it’s just you in the dark room.

From the bathroom, you can hear the shower. You relax a little, groaning as you roll to your back and stare up at the popcorn-textured ceiling. Your thighs still burn with the soreness from the night before and you bite your bottom lip, trying to conceal your grin.

Gently, you bring your hand to prod at your neck where it had hurt so much last night. You remember the lock-limb nightmare, the feeling of needing to scream. The thought that you were dying.

Hoseok had saved you, but it begged the question of how. You remember asking him last night, but you cannot remember what he answered. You’re also surprised to find that you’re not in any pain from whoever or whatever had attacked you.

Unease turns your stomach but you decide to crawl out of his bed, wandering around his room. A salt lamp casts an orange glow on his makeshift desk. You’re drawn to the mess on top of it, looking at the stacks of books and frowning. They’re not in English - or any language that you know, embossed symbols and shapes on the covers and cracked spines.

Lifting a heavy, green canvas book, you flip it over in your hands. The edges of the paper are yellow and oxidized with time and there is a gold symbol pressed on the front. Your fingers trace the groove, remembering what Hoseok said the day before about sacred geometry.

Putting it down, you select another book. It has a pentagram on it. When you flip the book open, the pages are filled with slanted writing, diagrams, and shapes. You recognize sabbat dates and stop when you get to a picture of interlocking shapes. You trace the symbol absently, wondering what it means.

Why does he have books like this?

A current of electricity slides up the finger that’s tracing the symbol. You squeak in surprise and drop it, cringing at the loud clatter that it makes against the table. The shower flips off and you look at the shut door. Hoseok moves around before opening the door, sticking his head out. He’s dripping in water, hair slicked back, golden skin glistening.

Despite the night before, you avert your eyes, shy. He doesn’t notice or doesn’t say anything, instead asking. “You okay?” He glances down at the books. “Good luck reading those.”

“Yeah,” you answer absently.

He grins. “Be out in a second.”

When Hoseok shuts the door, you feel unsettled. Rubbing your arms to fend off a sudden chill, you continue looking through the things on his table. There’s a small glass case with the exoskeleton of a frog. You cringe, thinking about Hoseok’s pet frog awaiting death in his pitcher plants.

Hoseok’s phone starts vibrating on the desk, making you gasp. Your hand goes to your chest, feeling the way your heart pounds violently against your rib cage. Looking at the screen, you see that someone named Yoongi is calling him.

You hesitate, cocking your head. The name rings familiar, and you watch as the call goes to voicemail. The screen fades to black but you keep staring at it. Not for the first time on your trip, you get the sense that you’re missing something, that there is something right there.

A text from Yoongi comes in, lighting up the screen.

Jung, you better not be fucking around with your prey again. We need to prepare.

It doesn’t sit well with you. When the screen goes dark, you tap it, bringing up the preview. What the hell does Yoongi mean fucking around with your prey? And what are they preparing for? You swear you remember the name Yoongi, retracing your thoughts.

You feel the blood drain from your face. You do know that name.

“Yoongi was so mad he wouldn’t talk to me for a week.”

“What?” you had asked him. “Your cat talks?”

“Oh- he- well he meows, you know what I mean?”

Slowly, you stiffen, remembering Hoseok’s words after breakfast. It had seemed silly then, that Hoseok was talking about a cat. But it’s not the only place you’ve seen Yoongi’s name.

Trust your gut, your sister always said.

You look at the bathroom door once before turning on your heel and creep from the room. You pull the front door open slowly, wincing and holding your breath as the outside world makes noise. Slipping through, you’re careful not to let the door click loudly before running to your room.

With the same care, you shut your door, flipping the bolt lock and sliding the chain in the door. The room feels like it’s spinning, your tunnel vision making you dizzy as you sweep your gaze back and forth, looking for the piles of your sister's research. It’s sitting on the floor, shoved off the bed where you let him fuck you last night.

The urge to vomit flips your stomach as you dive for the papers, riffling through them and scanning, feverish and sweaty. You find the entry you want, finger pressing to the page as you read it multiple times, fear making the words tangle.

Only Mabon is referenced in any of the journals explicitly, in a strange entry from a man named Yoongi Min. I have written it here for safekeeping: We bringeth the little lamb to The Wood today for the honor of Mabon. I loathe to see him go, for he hath brought cheer and many a smile to the Covenstead. May he bring us blessings and warmth in the winter.

Yoongi.

A sick feeling coils in your stomach as your hands tremble, eyes scanning the list of names your sister scribbled out as old families in Kill Devil. There’s another one you remember, the one that Yoongi used in his text to Hoseok.

Booth.

Park.

Warren.

Kim.

Jung.

Jeon.

Min.

A shaking hand presses to your mouth. Jung. “Fuck,” you squeak, looking at the wall separating you from Hoseok’s room.

It occurs to you that all this time, you thought the citizens were looking at Hoseok with contempt. How easily hatred can be confused for fear. Hoseok, who had shown up every time you were having a night terror. Who seemingly knew all the right things to do to ease you.

Hoseok, who had flashes of darkness that terrified you. Whose expression could go blank as he thought about something, but flip on a dime to a bright, sunny boy. Hoseok, whose presence always gave you a weird tingle, triggering some sort of instinct you couldn’t place.

Something happens then. With absolute certainty and a razor-sharp resolve that you’ve never experienced, you know your sister is dead. Perhaps you’ve always known. The sudden burning of your locket that night two months ago, the way that it looks like she ceased to exist. The eerie feeling dogging you, nipping at your heels.

Hanna is dead. The pain is only sharp for a second, a slice of agony as you bend over, arms wrapped around your stomach as you let out a silent scream. The grief is powerful but abrupt as you hear Hoseok call your name on the other side of the wall.

You stand. Because now you can’t mourn. Now, you must leave as quickly as possible. Because you hadn’t been trusting your gut, ignoring that weird little sense of something wrong.

Now isn’t the time to scream over what you know. Now you must get away from-

“Was it the books or the phone call?”

You whirl around. Hoseok is leaning against the wall by the door. The bolt is still flipped and the chain is still in place. You’re frozen to the spot, staring at him. He looks at the papers on the floor and back to you, smirk razor-sharp. Of course, he could get into the room without opening the lock.

All of the features you thought were beautiful are suddenly terrifying. “It took you way too long to puzzle it together, but I guess you’re not nearly as smart as Hanna.” You open your mouth but nothing comes out, throat constricted. “You were so easy to convince though, so I guess that’s something.”

“I don’t…” your voice is raspy, shaking.

“When you kept calling the city officials, I knew it was only time before you showed up here. I’ve been living in this fucking shit hole waiting.” He tsks and shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “Took you forever.”

“The citizens?”

“Stay out of my way and stay out of the Wood. They’re the frogs I let live, so long as I find other ones.”

“Why?” you ask, shaking your head. It’s the only question you can think of. It’s the only question that matters: whywhywhywhy. “Why help me?”

“Sometimes a predator likes to play with its prey.”

It dawns on you that he had said as much at breakfast while he was tracing symbols on the table. He had been talking about his frogs, but he had been talking about you too. How many signs had you missed because he fucking smiled at you? Something dangerous lurking behind light flirting.

He points to himself. “Pitcher plant.” He points at you with a grin. “Frog. Ribbit.”

“Fuck you,” you snarl, fear replaced by a hatred that burns so hot the edges of your vision flash red. But it isn’t him you’re mad at. It’s you. For being so easily deceived. For being so casually influenced in a matter of days. “Fuck you, and your fucking town.”

“I did fuck you. You were special, though. I hope that makes you feel better. Didn’t fuck your sister. You’re cute, and I had time to spare.”

“All of this for what? To get off on the chase? The manipulation?”

He scoffs. “I already told you what this place is. It isn’t my fault you didn’t put it together. I almost hand-fed it to you. The Wood gives us power, and the Wood needs sacrifices.” Hoseok pushes himself off of the wall, his smile like the first light of the morning sun. “I’m taking you to the Wood.”

#hoseok smut #hobi smut #j hope smut #hoseok fanfic #j hope fanfic #bts fanfic #hobi fanfic #hoseok x reader #j hope x reader #minors dni #j hope x you #hobi x you #sailoryooons

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jae-bummer · 1 year

Text

Practice Room of Doom

Request: Hello! May I request j-hope with the quote “Don't look at them. Look at me." Maybe where he encourages her to street dance, but she’s very shy. Or whatever you come up with. Thank you!

Prompt:

2) "Don't look at them. Look at me."

Pairing: BTS J-Hope x Reader

Genre: Fluff

This moment felt oddly reminiscent of your first day of kindergarten. As an adult, you never thought you'd find yourself sitting crisscross applesauce on a foam mat, waiting for your teacher to walk into the room.

Maybe "teacher" wasn't exactly the correct word. Instructor? Dance Master?

Nope, that made it weird.

"I smell burning," your friend, Bee, sighed. She gave you a side eye. "I think you're thinking too much."

"Or you're having a stroke," you muttered. "Burnt toast?"

"Burnt brain," she laughed, smacking you on the shoulder. "What are you worrying about over there?"

"Oh, I don't know," you sighed. "Maybe the fact that I haven't danced since our fourth-grade pageant where I was, for whatever reason, cast as Abraham Lincoln."

"Your beard was very impressive for a nine-year-old."

"I hate you and I want to go home."

"It's going to be fiiiine," Bee cooed. "We're going to learn a badass dance from someone who is really well known in the dance world, and then that'll be it."

"That'll be it," you nodded. "It's just that simple."

"Absolutely," your friend grinned before looking away. "And then we'll film our choreo for the YouTube channel and I'll take you for boba."

"I'm sorry, what?" you asked, gaping.

"You like boba," she continued nonchalantly. "Personally, I prefer the fruit smoothies, but-"

"Before that," you croaked.

"We're going to learn a badass dance," she nodded.

"After that."

"Oh, filming?" she said, furrowing her brows. "Yeah, the studio's YouTube is pretty well known, so they film when they have different guest instructors in."

"Okay," you sighed, moving to stand up. "That's it, I'm-"

Just as Bee had grabbed the bottom half of your hoodie and began to tug you back down, excited whispers filled the room. Looking up from your semi-kneeling position, you were knocked on your butt when a small group of people walked in.

One of them you recognized as the studio owner. You had seen her advertisements enough to place her face. Next, you identified her main dance instructor, who happened to have Bee drooling on a daily basis. And the third person didn't resonate with you, but you did have to reconcile with one thing.

He was hot.

Like melt your face hot.

Walking in with a confident swagger, his dark eyes swept across the room in quiet assessment. As if you manifested it, his gaze settled on your body now sprawled across the floor. You watched in horror as the corner of his mouth hitched up to a smirk before he looked away again.

"Dancers!" the owner called, clapping her hands. "I want you to meet our guest for the next few days, Jung Hoseok!"

The crowd erupted into applause as Hoseok took a bow.

"Am I supposed to know who he is?" you whispered, clapping nonetheless.

"Probably not," Bee chuckled. "I wouldn't have expected you to, but I think everyone here just creamed their jeans."

"So eloquent with words, best friend," you muttered.

She rolled her eyes before continuing. "He's a big deal in the dance world."

"I gathered."

You focused again on the stranger. He would be a big deal in any world. He radiated a sort of...lightness that only grew brighter as he waited for the applause to settle. Dressed in fitted, red, Nike joggers and an oversized white tee, you were surprised at how his simplicity made him look so cool. He wore a cap, turned backward, a small blessing that allowed you to really see his handsome face.

And that smile.

While he was already bright on his own, the grin kicked it up at least another hundred watts.

"Thank you!" he laughed as the clapping dyed down. "You guys can call me Hobi."

"Ho-bi," a gentle whisper of the crowd echoed across the room. This caused Hoseok to peel into laughter.

"We're going to work on learning some choreography today," he nodded after pulling himself together. "We'll get the steps down, and then I want you guys to pair off to practice. We'll give you the day tomorrow to perfect your movements, and then we'll be filming some clips the day after. Sound good?"

A muddled cheer lifted into the air as people began to wiggle to a standing position. Getting up on wobbly legs, you looked around the room and let out a sigh of relief. It was packed with at least 30-40 people. The chance of anyone noticing you besides Bee was pretty slim and you wanted to keep it that way.

The lesson went relatively quickly. You did much better than you had anticipated and actually felt a little flutter of happiness as you and Bee practiced side by side. The dance was much sexier than anything you would have attempted on your own (if you had even attempted to dance in the first place).

"Great job!" Hobi called, panting as he walked in between the dancers. "You've all got so much talent!"

You looked around at everyone who had expressions similar to your own. Pure joy and pride lit up the room.

"Now! Before we all go, I want you to split off into pairs or groups of three to practice tomorrow!"

"Hobi?" a girl toward the front row asked. Timidly lowering her hand, she waited until Hoseok turned her way, eyebrows lifted. "Will you be picking someone to film with tomorrow as well?"

"Ah, yes!" he laughed, clapping his hands. "I almost forgot. Who wants to be my partner?"

You could feel yourself shrinking into your own shoulders as he scanned the room. People squeaked and jumped, nearly every person holding their hand in the air.

To your horror, and Bee's delight, Hobi stopped his pacing and settled himself in front of you. "What's your name?"

You looked up at him with wide eyes, unable to open your mouth.

"Y/N!" Bee called behind you, leaning forward to shake your shoulders. "That's their name."

"Y/N," Hoseok said thoughtfully, crossing his arms. "Looks like I'm taken! Y/N is my partner!"

Your stomach felt like a lead weight as you trudged up to the door of the dance studio. While other groups were practicing wherever they saw fit, you had agreed to meet Hoseok back at the studio you had been tricked into participating in yesterday. It was never your intention to even be filmed. You had fully planned on learning the dance that evening and never showing your face there ever again.

Walking through the door, your feet led you to the practice room of doom. Standing outside for a moment, you watched through the small window as you saw Hobi freestyling something you hadn't learned the previous day. A light sweat already glistening on his tanned skin, you tried to tamp down the inappropriate thoughts swirling in your head. Swallowing, you set your hand on the handle and pushed.

Immediately stopping his motions, Hobi ran to the speaker to turn off the music pumping from his phone. Turning to you with that trademark smile, he waved.

"Y/N," he said, crossing the room to take your hand in his. "We were never properly introduced."

"Right," you cringed. "Hoseok, master of the dance."

What was wrong with you?

Hobi let out a huff of a laugh as he took a step back. "Is that what my new street rep is? Master of the dance?"

"I, uh," you croaked, wincing. "To be honest, I'm not that plugged in to what anyone's street rep is...let alone when it comes to well-known dancers."

"We'll change that," he smiled, patting you on the arm. You suddenly forgot how to breath as he looked you slowly up and down. "Ready when you are."

...

The torture was slow and painful.

You realized Hobi was a big name in dance, but you hadn't realized he would be as much of a perfectionist as he was. Since you weren't trained even a little bit, it made for a really rough lesson.

"I think I'm going to vomit," you whispered, falling to all fours on the hardwood.

"Water," Hobi nodded, immediately sweeping over to you with an ice-cold bottle. "You haven't been drinking enough."

"It'll just make me sweat more," you grumbled, plopping over. Whatever facade of elegance you had put on in an attempt to appease your instructor had dropped long ago. You had cursed, yelled, and nearly cried in front of him, so the charade was for nothing.

"That's good. It's when you stop sweating that we get worried," Hobi chuckled, crouching on the floor beside you.

Looking over, you were a bit surprised at how close he was sitting, especially considering how drenched you were.

"You did well today," Hobi said with a gentle smile. "And I apologize."

"For what?" you groaned. "Besides you know, nearly killing me."

"I should've helped you stretch first," he nodded with a grimace. "And maybe not have pushed so hard."

"Maybe?" you laughed. "Maybe I should have faked an injury at least an hour ago."

This caused a loud laugh to erupt from the man next to you. You had grown to love the sound over the past few hours.

"But then I wouldn't have the amazing, talented, and beautiful partner I do now," he grinned.

As you looked at him with wide eyes, your expression caused his own face to fall into something more static. "What?"

"At least two of those descriptors aren't true," you said quietly. Your eyes moved to your shoes. They were much easier to look at than him. "I just can't decide which ones."

"Hey," Hobi hummed, not shying away. He tentatively touched your chin before gripping it and redirecting your gaze to him. "You aren't giving yourself enough credit."

You chewed on your lip, searching his face for something you weren't even sure you'd find. "Why pick me? You watched us all. I wasn't the best. I wasn't the smoothest. I wasn't even the hottest if you wanted someone good looking for your video."

Hobi chuckled before dropping your chin and scooting so you sat shoulder to shoulder. "Want me to let you in on a secret?"

You nodded even though you were hesitant to hear what he had to say.

"It's not about being the best, or the smoothest," he said quietly. You watched in confusion as a blush began to color the tops of his ears. "And you should probably reevaluate the good-looking part."

You lifted your brows in surprise. This dancing sex God thought YOU were attractive? Well, I'll be damned.

"I picked you," he continued. "Because your shock at your own skills that day was a really amazing thing to watch. And I'll admit, I mostly did it because you thought I wouldn't."

You opened your mouth to speak but closed it again.

"Everyone can dance, Y/N," Hobi nodded. "It just matters if you want to try."

"There's at least a 70% chance that I'm going to make you look like an idiot tomorrow," you grumbled.

"And there's a 100% chance that I already make myself look like one every day," he grinned. "Who cares?"

"I mean everyone at the studio will be watching..."

"Don't look at them," he said firmly, causing your head to swivel in his direction. You locked eyes and nearly forgot how to breath. "Look at me."

The two of you remained locked in a staring contest, the room becoming significantly warmer for a different reason. Just as you were about to honestly ask Hobi, "What are we?" he conceded by reaching up and booping your nose.

"Did you just boop me?" you whispered.

"I don't know, did you think it was cute?" he laughed.

"Sure?" you smirked.

"Good," he nodded. Taking a moment longer to look at you, he finally pulled himself up and dangled a hand for you to take. "Should we get back to it?"

"Do we have to?"

"Yes," he nodded before a smile spread slowly across his face. "I have to start getting you prepared."

"For?" you asked, tilting your head. You had a funny feeling that he meant more than just the filming tomorrow.

"I'm thinking about taking up an instructor position here," he grinned. "And guess who's going to be my assistant for the foreseeable future?"

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magicshopaholic · 1 year

Text

Double Take (Hoseok x OC)

Summary: Years after telling the neighbourhood brat to get a life, Hoseok does a double take when he realises she’s no longer the skinny kid who worshipped him once upon a time.

Pairing: Hoseok x OC

Genre: Angst, unrequited love

Word count: 11.7 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Parental death, heartbreak, allusions to sex, mentions of alcohol

A/N: It's finally here! I've been waiting so long to finally put this on paper and to get Hobi's storyline up and running. Hope you enjoy one of my favourite OCs and her story. Since this is more of a prologue than anything else, it can be read standalone.

Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @meirkive, @dreaming-with-happiness, @kflixnet (drop a message if you want to be added)

Listen to: “you can't hurry love” by phil collins

hoseok masterlist | main masterlist

When Chaeyoung was a girl, the best person she knew was her older brother. Chanyeol was everything; he was smart, he was kind, he was fun and popular, he was one of the best tennis players in the school and didn’t so much as have a spat with anybody his entire life. He was perfect; in fact, if there was one weakness he had, it was his little sister.

Chaeyoung worshipped him. He was her protector, her best friend, her role model. Every time her parents told her to be more like Chanyeol, it annoyed her only to an extent because why wouldn’t all parents want their kids to be like Chanyeol? He was perfect. From birth to present day, Kang Chanyeol was perfect.

The shift was subtle but crept up on her quickly. Sometime around the time when Chaeyoung was in her last years of elementary school, her mind began to expand. She observed more, listened more, and even started to question herself, but it wasn’t until the middle school sports day that year that it hit her: if there was one person in the world who was cooler than her older brother, it was his best friend, Hoseok.

She would never forget that day. She’d been dragged along by her father and the Jungs to watch the middle-schoolers partake in various sports. She hadn’t been in a good mood; Chanyeol hadn’t been forced to come to her sports day because he had school, and enforcing the reverse had felt grossly unfair. Still, she’d huffed and silently watched the taller kids run around, begrudgingly cheered for her brother when he’d won his tennis trophy, and even taken pictures of various combinations of their family and friends.

By the afternoon, Chaeyoung was becoming tired and cranky. At six years old, she felt ridiculous sitting among adults all day while the other kids hung around with their friends. The day couldn’t end fast enough and when it was finally only the two hundred metre race that was left, she’d breathed a sigh of relief. All her irritation went out the window once the race began, however, and she’d found herself unexpectedly engaged in how close it was. When it ended with Jung Hoseok running through the ribbon, sweaty and victorious, it was like she was seeing a whole different person.

Chaeyoung had known Hoseok for what felt like her entire life. His family had moved to their street when she’d been five, a little over a year after her mother had died. There was the older sister; she looked like an angel the first time Chaeyoung saw her, descending the porch staircase to jog down to catch the school bus. There were the parents who were welcomed to the neighbourhood by her own father who was gardening while a loading truck was parked by their house.

“Chaeyoung! Come and say hello!”

She’d been startled, for she’d been waiting for her own school bus when her father called, but she’d walked over with the confidence of a five year old anyway - when she’d noticed him. A young boy, no older than her brother, was standing silently by his mother’s leg, but with a bright smile on his face. He was scrawny, and slighter than Chanyeol, but seemed taller. Chaeyoung was still staring at him when her brother joined them and when both boys ran into the back of the loading truck at Hoseok’s father’s request, Chaeyoung followed without a second thought.

“Is this yours?” Chanyeol had been asking Hoseok, a gameboy in his hand. Hoseok nodded, the same smile appearing on his face again.

“I got it for my birthday this year,” he’d volunteered almost apologetically, as though needing to provide an explanation for why he had it.

“Cool,” said Chanyeol, sounding impressed. “I just got one, too. For doing well on my exams.” He’d turned the video game in his hands. “Is this the X400? It’s supposed to have Level 12 of the Alien Invasion version…”

Chaeyoung had been watching Hoseok, how his eyes shone as he talked about his video game, how easily her brother had made a new friend. Most importantly, she’d recalled the moment Chanyeol had received the aforementioned gameboy - and how she’d received nothing, because her report card hadn’t been as good as his. She’d gone to bed angry and in tears that night, until her brother had sneaked into her room with his brand new present after everyone had gone to sleep and let her play with it until she’d had her fill.

But this was not the time to dwell on that. There was not a chance in hell that she would be left out of the group because of a gameboy, or lack thereof, and she’d needed to cement the first impression before that happened. So, without thinking about it, Chaeyoung had skipped forward and snatched the gameboy right out of her brother’s hands.

“I’m really good at Alien Invasion, too,” she’d begun to say, interrupting the conversation and starting Chanyeol. Hoseok had broken off mid-word and was staring at her, which made her lose focus for a moment, and somewhere in the commotion, the gameboy fell to the ground and broke in two.

“No!” Hoseok’s face had dropped and he’d rushed to her feet to pick it up, frantically picking up both pieces and turning them around in his hands. “What - what did you do?”

“I’m - I’m sorry,” she’d murmured, suddenly feeling very small and short between the boys as her brother stepped closer to Hoseok, calmly taking the smaller piece and looking for where to fix it. Chaeyoung had stood there, motionless, while Chanyeol calmly figured out how to slide the loose piece back on the game.

“There,” he said after a moment, shaking it gently to see if it was fixed. “I think it’s okay.”

Hoseok’s face had been white as a sheet as he confirmed it, pressing one of the buttons and swallowing thickly as she screen lit up. “Yeah,” he said finally. He’d looked up at Chanyeol, eyes wide and grateful. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem.” Her brother had then looked down at her and tilted his head. “Chae, you want to say sorry?”

She already had, but at that moment, Chaeyoung had obeyed him. “Oh - um, sorry.”

Hoseok had glared at her suspiciously. “It’s really expensive,” he’d blurted, his voice a little wobbly.

“I - I know. It was an accident.”

He’d looked like he wanted to say more, but her father’s voice had floated over to them then, informing them that their school bus had arrived. Both boys, as though they’d been doing it every day of their lives, walked out together like the cool, older nine year olds they were and Chaeyoung was left to trail behind them, boarding the bus just as the door closed behind her.

She’d been peering at the different seats, knowing that no matter what, she and Chanyeol would sit together. He always let her sit with him, even if his friends were there. “Oppa, where do you want to -” But she trailed off when she looked up, her chest feeling funny as she watched her brother introduce the new boy to his group of friends at the back of the bus. As the group mumbled their names and started chattering about mundane things, Hoseok took the seat next to Chanyeol.

It had taken a few seconds for Chaeyoung to realise that she’d have to find a seat of her own, for the first time in her life. Her eyes fell to the gameboy in Hoseok’s hands; he was still fiddling with it as he listened to the others talk to each other. His gaze had met Chaeyoung’s then, and his wide, friendly eyes immediately narrowed, letting her know he wasn’t about to forget what she’d almost done anytime soon. With a jerk, the bus began to move.

It didn’t take long for Hoseok to become an inevitable part of her life; he and her brother quickly became inseparable, and Chanyeol clearly thought highly of him. He fit in seamlessly at school, he was fun and loud and cheerful, and no one she’d met so far had a single bad thing to say about him.

The only person Hoseok seemed to get annoyed by, apart from his own sister sometimes, was his best friend’s sister. Chaeyoung had noticed how he rolled his eyes every time she tried to hang out with them, how she wanted to be included while they were playing video games or when they wanted to ride their bikes to school. At school, Chaeyoung watched her brother and Hoseok grow further and further away from her, both of them in different buildings of the school, in separate cafeterias and with completely separate groups of friends.

But it was a point of pride for her that despite Chanyeol’s growing popularity, she was still his sister. His friends knew it, her friends knew it - and the only person she allowed to be as close to him was Hoseok, only because he was Hoseok.

At the sports meet, almost a year after the Jungs moved in next door, she felt like she knew what that meant. When she’d seen the waves of cheering for Hoseok when he won the final race, when she watched how his friends gathered around him, how her brother was the first one to hug him, it occurred to her how badly she wanted to be one of them. So, naturally, since no one stopped her, Chaeyoung ran down to the field with the other kids, ready to congratulate him.

She fought her way through, feeling just as proud of him as everyone else seemed to be. She’d known him for as long as she could remember, after all - he was family. With his damp hair, white jersey and infectious smile, it was like she was seeing the sun. He hadn’t seen her yet, though, but once she made it to the front of the crowd, he finally did.

Chaeyoung didn’t think she’d ever forget the moment their eyes met. How, for a split second, the euphoria seemed directed at her and she felt stirrings in her heart she’d never felt before. Her legs moved automatically and she rushed to hug him, noticing only just before she reached him how his face went slack and his eyes went wide with horror.

He stepped back the same moment she reached him, causing her to trip and fall onto him as they both crashed to the ground. It was sudden and unexpected, but Chaeyoung hugged him anyway.

“You were amazing!” she started to squeal, only to be roughly pushed away. She fell on her backside with a soft “oof!”, completely confused for a second until she looked up to see Hoseok scrambling to his feet. His expression was one of immense irritation, a direct contrast to what it was a minute prior, as he dusted his hands on his shorts.

“What are you doing, you weirdo?” he snapped, and it was only then that she realised the noise around her hadn’t died down - they just weren’t cheering anymore. They were laughing.

Chaeyoung sat there on the ground, motionless, too stunned to even cry. It wasn’t at all the reaction she was expecting, until she noticed how Hoseok, his face red, was backing away from the crowd as though trying to make himself invisible. It occurred to her only then what was happening; Jung Hoseok, the coolest boy she knew, was shy.

It made her stomach flutter, that she’d made him shy. Even though Hoseok only glared at her after that and wouldn’t even look at her when their families went out to dinner that night, Chaeyoung knew. She knew she’d seen something on Hoseok’s face she’d never seen before, and she was the only one who’d made him look that way. At six years old, Chaeyoung knew she was in love with Jung Hoseok.

—

Chaeyoung couldn’t remember her mother very well. She hadn’t been barely five when the aneurysm had suddenly been detected. There were some quick hospital visits, the walls white and the sheets crisp, before one evening, her father had come to both her and Chanyeol at the house of the neighbour who’d been babysitting them to tell them that their mother had died.

At the time, Chaeyoung hadn’t quite been able to comprehend it. All she knew was that her father was crying - her father - and Chanyeol was trying his absolute hardest not to. She’d sneaked over to her brother’s room that night to comfort him - after all, he did every time she cried - but when she’d reached the doorway and heard his muffled sobs, she’d broken down as well. It was that, even more than her mother’s sudden death, that had made her succumb to tears that night: the fact that for the first time in her memory, her brother - her tall, perfect nine year old brother - was crying.

As the years went by and Chaeyoung began growing up, she’d realised that losing her mother meant more than just the fact that she would have to dress herself for school. There were conversations with friends, playdates at others’ houses, even casual words between Jiwoo and her mother every time the Jungs came over for dinner, that would give Chaeyoung pause and make her wonder what exactly it was that was lacking in her life without a mother.

Of course, given that she hadn’t really known much about her mother, and remembered even less, there was only so much she could speculate about. Then, about four years after her mother’s death, their father had told them about Seoyoon. He’d been very nervous, she’d been able to tell, but everything he’d said after that made no sense to her at all. Next to her, Chanyeol hadn’t reacted much at all until the end, when he’d simply shrugged when their father asked them if they were okay.

“But what about mom?” Chaeyoung had blurted out, not even realising that from the moment the new lady’s name had left her father’s mouth, these had been the only words in her mind, going round and round on a loop.

Her father had tilted his head and looked at her sadly. “Mom…” He’d trailed off for a moment. “Mom will always be your mom. Nobody else will ever be able to take her place. Even in my life,” he’d continued, and he’d reached out and held Chanyeol’s hand, “no one will ever be able to replace her. But Seoyoon is…” He’d blinked rapidly for a few seconds. “At a certain age, sweetheart… it gets too hard to be alone.”

At the time, Chaeyoung had taken this to mean that this new woman, this Seoyoon, was something of a playmate, someone for her father to chat with on the phone and watch movies with once in a while. It still wasn’t the best feeling but she didn’t know how to put it into words, the feeling of seeing something slip through her fingers and being powerless to catch it. She’d looked up at Chanyeol, who was staring at the ground and finally nodded. A moment later, Chaeyoung nodded, too, for if her brother was okay with it, so was she.

When she went up to her room, she suddenly felt terribly lonely. It was too dark and she felt that if she were to cry as loudly as she could, no one would hear her, and no one would care. She thought of her mother, a face she only knew from pictures, a voice she scarcely remembered, and whose touch she could only imagine. She pictured her mother right beside her, understanding everything she was feeling and murmuring quietly, as quiet as the wind, that everything would be alright.

Call me if you need me.

It was one of the only things Chaeyoung had any memory of her mother saying, a vivid picture of her scribbling her cell phone number next to her husband’s on a piece of white card and tucking it safely inside Chaeyoung’s pocket. It was what she said now, sweetly, silently.

I will, Ma.

It was the first night she dreamed Ma into existence.

Ma stayed after that. She felt like a mother whenever Chaeyoung thought about her, but better than all her friends’ mothers. She never told Chaeyoung to finish her vegetables, she always realised it was unfair when her father would compare her marks to Chanyeol’s, and she always, always took Chaeyoung’s side. When Chaeyoung was annoyed or angry, Ma would be there. Sometimes, even when she was happy, like when she made it onto the football team, Ma was there - not with the other parents in the stands, but right there next to Chaeyoung on the field.

She didn’t know whether to tell Chanyeol. On the one hand, she trusted him more than anybody else in the world - and wasn’t she his Ma, too? But when she tried to broach the topic of their mother once, when he’d been studying and she’d been bursting to tell someone, Chanyeol had been uncharacteristically abrupt with her.

“I don’t want to talk about this, Chae.”

He’d interrupted her when she’d been mid-sentence, and she’d fallen silent. He seemed to realise this, for a moment later he looked up at her and sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I just… I really need to study for this test.” When she only nodded and said nothing, he continued. “Also, now that dad has… now that Seoyoon is here, I just don’t think it’s right to talk about mom.”

If Chaeyoung had been older, if she’d realised that her brother, too, was a child who was doing the best he could, she would have seen this statement as evidence that he was coping with the loss of their mother, just like she was. But in her nine year old wisdom, she took this to mean that Seoyoon was the reason no one could talk about her mother anymore.

Seoyoon was invited for dinner later that week, and again the week after that. After that it became more and more frequent, to the point that she was there when Chaeyoung and her brother returned home from school, and Chanyeol at least stopped seeming surprised.

A couple of months later, her father sat them down and told them his plan. He’d looked nervous yet hopeful, until relief washed over his face when Chanyeol gave him a small smile and nodded in assent.

He’s lying! Chaeyoung wanted to scream, but her voice wouldn’t work, not when her father turned to her and his expression changed from relief to anticipation, as though he was expecting a fight. Chaeyoung didn’t disappoint, and even though she knew he’d do what he wanted anyway, she bit the inside of her cheek and exhaled sharply.

“You promised you wouldn’t forget about mom,” was all she said and at nineyears old, it seemed like the crux of the issue. No matter how much her father tried to convince her he hadn’t, Chaeyoung knew that she, at least, would do everything possible to keep her mother with her.

Later that week her father finally pulled the plug and proposed to Seoyoon. The following weekend, he threw an announcement dinner with the Jungs from next door, where Chaeyoung watched this woman throughout. Her stepmother; this new woman who was sitting in her mother’s kitchen, laughing with her father and giving presents to her and her brother like she’d known them forever.

Chaeyoung was too startled to do anything but quietly accept it and echo a thank you along with her brother. No one will ever be able to replace your mom, her father had promised. Chaeyoung didn’t know what that meant anymore; all she knew was that there were eight people in the room, four in each family, and that her mother was not one of them.

Sometime during dessert, when there was music playing and the adults were chatting with drinks in their hands, Chaeyoung slipped out of the front door and sat on her porch. Chanyeol was busy with something inside and, anyway, she had no interest in hanging around with him right now. It was rare but it happened, and right now she simply wanted away from all the music and energy.

It was a reasonably chilly night, and she involuntarily shivered when she sat down on the porch. It was quiet as she waited for Ma, and she closed her eyes in wait. A sudden rustling made her eyes snap open, followed by a groan.

“Chaeyoung?”

Her heart instantly zoomed, which seemed to be the default reaction for her body every time Hoseok entered her mind space. She looked up to see him come into view, standing at the edge of the front yard.

“Yeah,” she said immediately, hearing the forced upward lilt in her own voice.

He sighed loudly. “Seriously? Are you following me again?”

Chaeyoung felt herself deflate. This, too, seemed to be a default reaction every time she entered his mind space.

“No,” she mumbled. “What are you doing out here?” she asked after a moment.

“I lost my keychain this morning. I think I dropped it here.” He sighed, glancing at her begrudgingly. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen it? It’s a Manchester United one.”

Chaeyoung bit her lip. She knew which keychain he was talking about, for not only had she seen it, she had it. She’d seen it fall out of the side pocket of Hoseok’s backpack this morning when all three of them walked to the school bus. As usual, she’d been walking behind both boys, trying to keep up with their conversation as they chattered about something hilarious that had happened during their class field trip yesterday.

Every time she’d tried to interject, they either continued their conversation like they hadn’t heard her, or they would tell her to stop interrupting. When Hoseok finally snapped at her (“Can you please shut up for a second?”), she’d sulked but obliged, feeling rather annoyed again. The final nail in the coffin had been just before they’d been about to board, and a girl in the window - a beautiful, popular thirteen year old girl with pretty curls and blue ribbon - smiled out the window. Chaeyoung had followed her gaze and swallowed as she realised she was smiling at Hoseok - and he was smiling back.

Chaeyoung had felt her heart drop and her teeth grit. As she followed the boys into the bus, she’d spotted something shiny on the ground. Bending down to pick it up, she’d realised what it was and who it belonged to. Before she could talk herself out of it, she pocketed it, knowing that no matter who he smiled at, Hoseok’s favourite keychain with his favourite football team on it belonged to her.

“Nope. Haven’t seen it.”

Hoseok sighed loudly and dramatically, climbing the porch stairs and about to sit down, before apparently thinking better of it. He remained standing, as though afraid of being too close to her and while that would usually break Chaeyoung’s heart enough for her to cry herself to sleep, tonight she simply felt a dull throb and a whole lot of impatience for his snark.

“Why aren’t you inside?” he asked.

“I want to be outside,” she answered defiantly.

“Okayyy.”

“Chan’s talking to Cruella in there,” she muttered after a moment. The image of her brother, smiling and graciously welcoming Seoyoon into the family, made her sick. If she’d spent another moment in there, she swore she would’ve thrown up.

Hoseok scoffed. “Chan? Didn’t you get in trouble for calling him by his name?”

She flushed. “Not trouble. Just… it doesn’t matter, okay?”

“Fine. Whatever.” There was a pause. “Did you just call her Cruella?” When Chaeyoung didn’t answer, he shrugged. “Chanyeol says she’s nice.”

“Well, bully for Chanyeol.”

“God, must you whine?”

“I hate this sweater,” she said, tugging at the brand new gift her father had made her put on. “And I have to wear it because she gave it to me.”

“So? I hate these pants but my mom made me wear them.” He shrugged. “That’s life.”

Chaeyoung rolled her eyes. This was Hoseok’s new thing lately: that’s life. She didn’t know where he’d learnt it, but his eventual response to everything was “that’s life”, which irritated her beyond belief. He especially said it to her all the time, as though she was a child that needed reminding about the facts of the world, and it made her blood boil.

“She’s not my mom.”

“All moms are the same. Your mom would’ve told you to wear it, too.”

“You didn’t even know her,” she snapped.

There was a few seconds of silence as Hoseok presumably processed this, including her unusual tone. “You’re right,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically sober. “Sorry.”

Chaeyoung grit her teeth and hoped she wouldn’t cry in front of him. She would look weak and any hopes of getting him to notice her would go straight out the window. Also, Ma wasn’t here yet and she would only cry to Ma.

“Chanyeol didn’t like her at first either.”

She didn’t know if she’d heard him correctly. “What?”

“Your… Seoyoon. Cruella,” he added, an awkward sort of smile appearing for a second. “Chan didn’t like her when she first got here.”

This was news to hear. “Really? He - he told you?”

“Yeah. Said she talked weird.”

It wasn’t on the list of things that annoyed Chaeyoung, but she took it. It didn’t escape her notice that Chanyeol had failed to mention this to her while confiding in Hoseok about it, but for now, it made her feel just slightly less alone. She turned around to look in through the window again.

“He seems to like her now,” she mumbled.

“Maybe you will, too. Or he’s faking it.”

Chaeyoung snorted. It felt good to laugh for a moment, even if the situation sucked. “I hope he’s faking it.”

“Really? Why?”

She frowned. “Because… I don’t…” She didn’t know how to put it into words that she didn’t want to be the only one missing her mother. “I don’t want to be the only one who doesn’t like her.”

“Then maybe you should try to like her.”

Chaeyoung bristled. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. “I don’t want to like her.”

“But why? I mean, aren’t you glad your dad is happy?”

The way he said it, it sounded like the most obvious thing in the world. But when Chaeyoung turned around to look inside again, for the first time all night, her gaze shifted from her brother to her father. There was something heartbreaking about how happy he looked, but Chaeyoung didn’t know just how to express that while it was a nice sight, it only made her miss her mother even more.

She said nothing, though, resolving only to keep Ma her secret forever. Her dad and brother didn’t need nor want Ma, and Chaeyoung was fine not sharing.

Next to her, Hoseok sighed. “It’s cold. I’m going inside.”

All thoughts of her soon to be stepmother vanished. “Wait!” When he halted and turned around, eyebrows raised, her heart thumped against her ribcage. “Why - why are you being nice to me?”

Even in the darkness, she could see the hint of a blush on his face. But his next words wiped away any scenarios her imagination may have created. “You’re Chan’s sister,” he said, shrugging, his hands in his pockets. “I have to be nice to you.”

—

The day Hoseok left for Seoul, Chaeyoung thought she would die.

Everyone was thrilled for him, it looked like. He was going to follow his dreams, they said. His parents seemed nervous but proud, his sister called from Australia, telling him to take care of himself. Even Chanyeol, who she’d thought would be distraught since he’d be losing his best friend, was irritatingly supportive.

“He’s going to be an idol,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing. They were at the dining table in their house, a week before Hoseok was meant to leave. “He’s meant for it. Haven’t you seen him dance?”

Chaeyoung stared at him, incredulous. Seen him? She lived and breathed him - of course she knew how he could dance, that he was meant to be an idol and whatnot.

“That - that’s not my point,” she stuttered, her chopsticks feeling like water between her fingers. “How is he - his life is here. His school, his friends, his… everyone.”

Chanyeol, now sixteen, squinted at her. “He’ll make new friends. He’s good at that.”

“Yes, but he’s your best friend. Won’t you - won’t you miss him?”

He chewed his food thoughtfully. “I mean… sure. I guess. We’ll text and stuff.” He shrugged.

Chaeyoung blinked. “Text,” she repeated.

“Yeah. What’s the big deal? You’re acting like he’s dying.”

“Chaeyoung,” said Seoyoon, her voice soft and melodic, “it’s okay to miss him, too. He’s like family.”

She met her stepmother’s eyes. “Yeah. Not really what I was getting at.”

Next to her, Chanyeol rolled his eyes, while her father said her name sternly. Seoyoon simply placed a hand on his arm and muttered “it’s okay”, while Chaeyoung was left to silently resent how, out of everyone at the table, including Ma, Seoyoon was the one who had the nerve to say it out loud.

It felt like the worst thing that could happen, and it felt directly targeted at her. His parents would always be his parents, his sister had already left for Australia a year ago, and Chanyeol was his best friend in the world. Chaeyoung was none of these things, however, and it felt like if he left now, he’d be gone from her life forever.

The first night, she cried for hours. It was as though she could feel his absence next door. She fell asleep gazing at a picture of she, Chanyeol and Hoseok on her nightstand, taken during a family trip to Jeju Island. The next day at school, she walked around like a war widow, with puffy eyes and her books clutched to her chest. At lunch, she sat surrounded by her friends, feeling like they would never understand, never know true heartbreak and true pain.

A week later, things were easier. Chaeyoung made the middle school football team, just like her brother had, and after-school practice meant less time to miss the love of her life. Then exams happened, and birthday parties, and before she knew it, it was next year.

Hoseok was forgotten by no one; the Jungs came over for dinner just as often as they did before, but only two kids out of four meant that the dinner was more for the adults to stay in touch than anything else. Chanyeol got busy with applying to colleges, while Chaeyoung, for the first time, had her life laid bare in front of her. With no Chanyeol and Hoseok to follow around, her own friends, her own studies and her own life were suddenly at the forefront.

Hoseok was still on her mind, though. She looked at the picture on her bedside table every night, kept his Manchester United keychain in her backpack, and told all her friends about the day she would date an idol. “He’ll become an idol and then he’ll come back,” she said, for it seemed incredibly obvious. Her friends, no strangers to her lifelong crush, were part supportive and part envious, which only thrilled thirteen year old Chaeyoung even more.

Chanyeol was right about one thing, though. He and Hoseok texted - and only texted. She hadn’t a clue if and when they actually spoke, and she spent hours daydreaming about the day he’d call her, because as much as he pretended like he couldn’t stand her, one day he would surely wake up and realise how much he missed her. They were family, after all.

He finally did call one day - or rather, he was called. It was his seventeenth birthday, and they were at the Jungs’ house for lunch when Hoseok’s father decided to call his son, putting it on video as everyone said hello and wished him. The first thing that Chaeyoung noticed was how narrow his face was; it was unexpected, but he still looked as handsome as ever and she only hoped that he’d notice her new haircut, too.

It was chaotic; Hoseok was speaking hurriedly, saying he didn’t have much time. The phone was passed down from adult to adult, everyone wishing him and making typical grown-up comments about what a big man he was, living by himself in Seoul. The phone was then swiftly passed to Chanyeol, who simply stood up and began walking away into another room, going “Dude, you won’t believe what happened at Eunwoo’s party last week…”

Chaeyoung knew she had to wait before it was her turn - but it was just so hard. She was almost giddy with happiness; she’d missed him so much. There was so much she had to tell him and so much she wanted to know, including when he was planning to come back. But when five minutes passed and Chanyeol didn’t return, and the adults had moved to some boring topic of conversation, Chaeyoung decided to take matters into her own hands.

Hopping off her chair, she retraced her brother’s steps and found him in the pantry of the house, sitting atop a stool and laughing into the phone as he held it up in front of him. He caught her eyes above the phone and she tried to signal to him to give her the phone.

“- and it was… what?” He frowned before apparently catching on. “Oh, uh… do you, uh, want to talk to Chae? She -”

But Hoseok’s voice interrupted him, shrill through the speaker. “Oh, God, no.”

Chanyeol’s eyes flickered to his sister. “Hey, man -”

“Dude, no, not today. I’ve had a bad enough day so far,” he said, sounding more weary than ever. “Don’t make me talk to your sister right now. Let that be my birthday gift,” he quipped, clearly oblivious to how Chaeyoung stood behind the phone, frozen to the ground.

“Oh, um…” Chanyeol sighed, tilting his head sympathetically at his sister as Hoseok said a hurried goodbye. “Yeah, yeah… have a good day.” There was a beep and the call ended. Chanyeol took a few moments before meeting Chaeyoung’s eyes again.

“I don’t - I don’t understand,” she said, feeling like her voice wasn’t even hers, like it was coming from somewhere else. “Why - why doesn’t he want to talk to me?”

Chanyeol opened his mouth but seemed to think better of it, standing up and moving to walk past her. “Just ignore it. Come on, let’s go back -”

“No, wait.” She stopped him. “Tell me. I - I thought… I thought he missed home. You said he missed being home,” she repeated, hearing her voice tremble. “Why didn’t he want to talk to me?” And why did it look like you understood?

“Chae, just - just let it go, alright?”

“No! I’m his family! Why doesn’t he want to -”

“Because you’re telling everyone that you’re his family!” Chanyeol blurted, looking fed up. “Jesus, Chae! Everyone knows you have a crush on him, but you don’t have to make it so damn public!”

Her face reddened. “I don’t have a crush on -”

“Oh, please. It was okay when you were younger but then you started following him around school and stuff… come on, can you blame him for being embarrassed?”

Chaeyoung shook her head. Nothing he was saying was making sense. “What are you talking about? He wasn’t embarrassed, he was - he was shy. He didn’t -”

“Seriously?” This time, even Chanyeol looked incredulous. “Chae, you told your friends that you were going to marry him when his crew won that inter-school competition in ninth grade. One of them told her older sister and suddenly everyone knew. You really thought that would make him shy?”

It took everything Chaeyoung had in her to not cry. “But - but he never said anything. He - he always…” But that wasn’t true. He said a lot of things. He was perpetually annoyed with her, and every time that she ever wondered why he was so sweet and sunny with everyone but her… it seemed she finally had an answer. “Why didn’t he ever tell me to stop?” she asked in a small voice.

“Because you’re my sister,” he replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “What was he going to say?”

You’re Chan’s sister. I have to be nice to you. At the time, it was proof to her of how close their families were, of how they were family. But now she realised it was none of those things, just Hoseok admitting what he and everyone else apparently knew: were it not for his best friend, Jung Hoseok would have absolutely nothing to do with Kang Chaeyoung.

She found it hard to meet her brother’s gaze. There was a stinging on her lower lip where she tasted blood, and then a stinging in her eyes. It was a time in her life when she and Chanyeol weren’t as close as they once were, and she was faced with a sudden and irrational fear that if she cried right now, he would tell Hoseok about it.

Chanyeol took a step towards her. “Chae -”

She started to shake her head when they were interrupted, and she turned to see Hoseok’s father approaching the pantry.

“There you two are,” he said cheerfully, sounding far too much like his son for Chaeyoung to handle. “I need my phone. Oh, Chanyeol, help me bring down the barbecue for tonight, come on…” He brushed past her and patted Chanyeol on the back, who nodded respectfully and made way for him. “Oh, Chaeyoung, your mother was asking where you were - there’s strawberry cream for dessert and she says it’s your favourite…”

Chaeyoung nodded in a daze, turning away from Chanyeol and walking out of the room. The dining area felt miles away and every step made her feel like she was on a treadmill. Finally, after what seemed like ages, she reached the dining table and took her seat. She ignored Seoyoon when she offered her dessert, her eyes on her empty plate the whole time. Even when Chanyeol returned and tried to get her to look at him, muttering “Chae? Are you okay?”, she simply nodded once but didn’t dare look at him.

That night, the first thing Chaeyoung did when she went to her room was take out the picture from the frame on her bedside table and slip it into one of her books. She hunted through every photo album she had and finally chose a picture of her with the rest of her football team, a group of thirteen year old girls holding up small gold trophies and grinning into the camera.

It felt like a step in the right direction, for if she needed to stop embarrassing Hoseok, it needed to begin right here in her bedroom. As she stared at the picture, trying to talk herself into liking it, into realising that these girls, her friends, were more important than a guy who wouldn’t even let her wish him a happy birthday, she felt the first sob wrack through her body.

She imagined what Ma would say. Ma didn’t appear to her like she did before; it was just her voice now, saying things that Chaeyoung wanted to hear. Right now, she imagined Ma would tell her that Hoseok hated her, that there was no point loving someone who hated her. He’s only nice to you because of Chanyeol, she said, her voice soothing and familiar. So why are you nice to him?

“Because he’s perfect,” she cried softly, feeling like her heart would break. She’d never felt this horrible, she knew. Even Chanyeol couldn’t make this better; in fact, he’d only made it worse. How long had he known? How could he have gone all this time, knowing what he did, and continue letting her make a fool of herself? Did he laugh about her with Hoseok? Did she embarrass him, too?

She thought of her father, how he’d sigh at her every time she got into trouble at school. How he and Chanyeol would both give her a look when she didn’t fake it with the stepmother. Hoseok’s face as he rolled his eyes floated through her mind. It was a kick in the gut as she thought it: How many people was she disappointing at once?

—

Bangtan Sonyeondan was a cool name. It was a fact, and even though Chaeyoung was very careful to not let it show on her face, their debut single was really cool.

Chanyeol’s class had long graduated by now. Chaeyoung, at fifteen, was at the peak of her school career so far. While she’d been initially wary of Chanyeol graduating, leaving her completely alone for the first time, it turned out to be just what she’d needed to step out of his shadow once and for all. No one had forgotten him, but they remembered just enough to know she was.

Everyone in the school knew when Hoseok debuted. It was a huge point of pride for the school that one of their former students was now an idol and for a good few weeks, every single person in the school was humming No More Dream. It was catchy as hell, and Hoseok was amazing in it - not that Chaeyoung was noticing.

Ever since the phone call that was not meant to be, Chaeyoung had attempted to distance herself from everything Jung Hoseok. It was the hardest thing in the world at first, but eventually real life took precedence over daydreams, studies took importance over doodling his name, and her real friends ended up being more fun to hang out with than a fictionalised version of him in her mind.

Once she’d managed to let him go, she’d been pleasantly surprised to find how much of a life she was able to have outside of him. It turned out that, for the most part, people seemed to like her. In one of her birthday cards, the most frequent words used by people was “fun” - she was fun, apparently. She wasn’t sure what exactly that meant, until one day in ninth grade when she’d convinced a few friends to skip a class. They’d gotten away with it, and she’d been hailed as “so fun”.

Life continued, fun and everything. Chanyeol left Gwangju for Seoul when he went to college and, she imagined, got back in touch with Hoseok. She still texted her brother reasonably often, whenever they had the time. Now that they’d reached a certain age and stage of their own lives, their initial relationship had started to become slightly more distant.

It wasn’t something that even occurred to Chaeyoung except for in certain moments, like their mother’s birthday. On those days, she missed Chanyeol more than anything. To his credit, he was mostly there for her when she needed him, but to her credit, she tried not to need him too much.

A few months before her sixteenth birthday, Hoseok returned to Gwangju for three days. It was a huge deal, for he’d apparently had to negotiate a lot for even those days off. Chanyeol was back then, too, and naturally both families wanted to make the best of it.

Despite the fact that Chaeyoung, for all intents and purposes, was over her crush on Hoseok by now, it still evoked a sense of quiet excitement in her stomach. She didn’t seek him out, but she made sure not to leave her room until she was perfectly dressed and her hair was impeccable, ready to breeze past him without a care in the world, determined to show him how much she’d grown without him.

As it turned out, she didn’t see him that morning. She didn’t see him that evening after school, or that night. In fact, she didn’t see him all weekend; Hoseok seemed to have a ton of friends to visit, and he and Chanyeol were gone for practically the entire time.

Chaeyoung wished she’d just catch a glimpse of him - not because she missed him or anything, but because the longer it took to see him, the higher the anticipation got. She’d managed to put their last humiliating not-interaction to the back of her mind eventually, but the longer she waited to see him, the more she ended up reliving it.

On Hoseok’s last night, there was a dinner at the Jungs. Unlike the last time he left for Seoul, when no one knew what his future would hold, this time he was leaving as a successful debuted idol. The dinner, therefore, was more of a farewell party, with a few more of his friends invited, all of whom Chaeyoung remembered from school.

Chaeyoung tried her hardest to stay out of everyone’s way. She didn’t trust herself around Hoseok, particularly because now that he was here, actually in the flesh, she was begrudgingly being reminded of everything that she’d once loved about him.

Don’t go down that rabbit hole, Chae, Ma said, as Chaeyoung hovered near the kitchen, nibbling at her nails. Hoseok had brushed past her once or twice, giving her a perfunctory “hi” which only served to make her feel ridiculous, because it was clear that he wasn’t devoting even a fraction of the mind space to her that she was to him.

Towards the end of the night, given that it was a Sunday, Chaeyoung knew that she would be sent home soon. It was a school night and the older kids were chattering about going out for a while longer, so she knew that if she didn’t speak to Hoseok now, there would be no telling if she’d ever be able to get this out.

Finally, around ten pm, when she saw him go upstairs to his room, she followed him. She tried hard to ensure that no one saw her but when she finally reached his doorway, she realised that none of it mattered because she had no idea what to say.

Chaeyoung cleared her throat. “Hoseok oppa?” she said gingerly.

He whipped around, turning away from the bag he seemed to be packing. She didn’t fail to notice how his face fell when he realised who it was; she tried not to let that get to her.

“Uh… what are you doing here?” he asked, sounding almost wary. His eyes darted around the room as though expecting to get caught by someone.

“I just wanted to say hi,” she managed, her heart racing. He looked… incredible. Nineteen became him. He looked thin but fit, and his hair was cut stylishly so it fell across his forehead. Swallowing, she continued. “And… I wanted to apologise.”

“Uh, okay - look. You’re in my room. Anyone can see you,” he informed her. “So you should probably -“ He gave her a knowing nod and gestured towards the door.

It stung, but she held her ground, stepping inside his room and shutting the door behind her. Leaning back against it, she exhaled. “Is that better?”

Hoseok’s look of pure horror was enough to tell her that it was, in fact, not better, but she’d had enough distractions now.

“Look, I don’t need too much of your time. I just…” She looked at her feet, trying to find the courage to continue. “I wanted to… apologise,” she said finally.

Hoseok frowned. “For what?” he asked suspiciously.

“For… everything? I guess.” She swallowed, forcing herself to continue looking up at him. “It was brought to my attention a while back that I may have… embarrassed you.” She paused as the words settled around them, having said it out loud for the first time ever. “I know I was probably a bit annoying and I didn’t - I wasn’t very… cool.”

Hoseok looked more confused than anything now and she couldn’t blame him, for she didn’t think she was making any sense either. But he hadn’t asked her to leave yet, which was more encouragement than she could hope for.

“Honestly, when I think back to some of the things I did…” She trailed off for a moment, shaking her head. “I cringe a little bit. Okay, that’s a lie. I cringe a lot.”

He nodded slowly, and she didn’t know if she’d imagined the fleeting look of amusement on his face.

“So, anyway. I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

Huh. Chaeyoung didn’t know what else she was expecting, but his tone made it pretty clear that their heart to heart was over. “Okay, then. I’ll just… go.” She turned to open the door, only to see about four of his friends standing right outside. Chanyeol wasn’t one of them. They were clearly waiting for Hoseok, possibly giving him privacy because of the closed door, but the moment one of them spotted her, his eyes went wide.

“Oh, my -”

“Oh, God,” muttered Hoseok from behind her.

“Dude.” A second guy, Hyungmin, seemed to smile in slow motion, as though he was suddenly uncovering some huge joke. He nudged the first guy and snorted. “The happy couple is back!”

Chaeyoung wrinkled her nose. “What?”

But her voice was drowned out among the hoots, all loud and obnoxious. She turned back to Hoseok, possibly for an explanation, only to see him rolling his eyes before he suddenly glared at her.

“I don’t even know what she’s doing here,” he said stonily, and her heart skipped a confused beat.

“What? I -”

“Hey, Chan, get up here!” One of the other guys interrupted her, leaning over the railing and shouting into the house. “You’ll never guess who was in Hobi’s room - with the door closed!”

“Dude, he’s gonna kill him,” snickered Hyungmin, giving Hoseok a mock-sympathetic look.

“Alright, isn’t this joke, like, a million years old?” he asked, sounding thoroughly unimpressed.

“It was, but now she’s getting hot and all,” said the third guy, whom Chaeyoung only remembered as the one who was invited because he had a car. He gave her a side glance and raised an eyebrow. “Now it means all kinds of -

“Dude, what the fuck?” Hoseok groaned, while Hyungmin slapped his shoulder with the back of his hand and hissed, “She’s a kid.”

“Well, she doesn’t look like -”

“Chan is going to kill you if you don’t -”

“Hey, what’s going on up there?” Chanyeol’s voice floated up, interrupting everyone. “Are we leaving or what?”

There was a momentary pause when it seemed as though no one knew how to respond. Then Hoseok rolled his eyes and strode out of the room. “Come on, let’s go,” he muttered, and fortunately, his friends followed his lead. As he passed Chaeyoung, he glared at her.

“How do you manage to ruin everything?” he hissed. “I told you to get out of my room.”

“I - I know.” Chaeyoung heard her voice tremble. “I didn’t think they would -”

“Really? Because it’s so different from what they’ve been doing the last ten years?” He gave her another exasperated look, like she wasn’t worth his time. “Why can’t you just disappear?” he muttered, knocking into her shoulder as he left the room.

Chaeyoung stayed there for a minute, humiliated, her feet rooted to the floor. She didn’t know whether it was his friend’s comments about her, the way they were talking about her like she wasn’t right there in front of them, or whether, after all these years, Hoseok had finally told her the truth.

Why can’t you just disappear?

She glanced into his room again, her eyes running over the taped posters on the wall, the folded bed sheets, a set of clothes draped neatly over the chair. She’d come here in hopes of maybe moving past everything that had caused him to avoid her all these years. Now, she wished she hadn’t said anything at all.

Chaeyoung rushed home after that, not wanting to wait for Seoyoon to croon over at her to do so. She didn’t think anyone even noticed; she ran out the front door, glad for the empty hallway from where she could hear everyone else in the dining room. The night was dark and chilly, and she hopped over the short fence to her front yard, slamming her door behind her before hurrying upstairs.

She wouldn’t cry this time, she vowed, even as she wiped angry tears forming of their own accord. She was sick of it, sick of everything. She was sick of those stupid friends Chanyeol still hung out with, she was sick of how Hoseok instantly became a different person when it came to her, she was sick of her stepmother, her family - but most of all, she completely sick of how, even after all these years, the things Hoseok said still had the ability to hurt her.

She hadn’t grown up at all, clearly. Nothing had changed. She would forever hold a candle for her brother’s best friend, even if, until two days ago, she’d been somewhat preoccupied by the fact that Nam Sehun from the other section had a rumoured crush on her.

She looked up from where she was sitting at the corner of her bed when she heard a faint sound of laughter and a shout. Dragging her feet to the window, she saw a car pull out from the Jungs’ driveway, music emanating from it until it screeched to a sudden stop.

“Hurry up, man!” One of the guys shouted as another leapt out of the car, scurrying back to the house. The party must be over. Before she knew it, everyone else would be back home.

Chaeyoung rolled her eyes and stepped away from the window, too tired to care. As she stripped and retrieved an old t-shirt and pajamas from the closet, she found herself feeling more and more stupid by the second. She’d made more of an effort than she’d realised apparently; even the bra she was wearing was something she’d purposely picked out, possibly in an effort to show Hoseok that she’d grown up - except it hadn’t worked, and the only person who seemed to notice it was Chanyeol’s creepy friend.

Pulling on her clothes, she trudged to the bed, ready to nurse another broken heart and fall asleep forever, when she heard a knock.

“Fuck,” she whispered, not in the mood to face her stepmother and her fake concern right now. The knock sounded again and she swore under her breath. “No one’s home,” she called, hoping she’d take the hint.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s true,” said the voice outside, and Chaeyoung felt a jolt in her stomach. She walked over and opened the door gingerly to see Hoseok, quite possibly the last person she’d ever expected to see outside her room. It suddenly occurred to her how much taller he was; it vaguely intimidated her, until he bit his lip and sighed, looking at the floor.

Chaeyoung was about to ask what he was doing here, but something in his posture made her want to wait him out. So she continued standing there, one hand on her hip and the other on her door.

Hoseok’s eyes flickered up to her and he opened his mouth before he seemingly noticed something behind her. “A colour-changing lava lamp?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Is that a high school girl thing?”

She stared. “You’re wearing a snapback at night. Is that a Seoul thing?”

He paused before sighing and taking it off. “I knew it looked stupid,” he muttered, ruffling his messy black hair.

“No, it doesn’t,” she said automatically, wincing slightly at how desperate she sounded. It was too hard to think straight around him. “I - what are you doing here?” she asked, slightly nervous. “Aren’t you afraid your friends will see you in my room?”

“Uh, no. They’re downstairs.”

She nodded. “That’s… good thinking.”

There was an awkward silence where neither of them looked at each other and for the first time in her life, she wished Hoseok would leave her alone.

“Look, um…” Hoseok began slowly, as though every word was taking a great effort. “About before… I know you were just trying to apologise. I shouldn’t have…” He looked up, as though hoping for a prompt. When he received none, he sighed again. “I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” Chaeyoung nodded.

“Right.” After a moment, he spoke again. “Also… Joonho’s an ass.”

She bit her lip and folded her arms across her chest, a little protectively. “Yeah.”

“Anyway… I just came to say that.” He gestured vaguely behind him. “I should head.”

“Sure.”

He turned around halfway before pausing again, squinting slightly at her. “You do understand why I got mad, right? I mean, this wasn’t just about tonight. But it’s like every time that you’re around -”

“Yeah, I understand,” she said quickly, gritting her teeth. The more she looked at him, the less it looked like he cared at all. He didn’t care. He had no idea how much she’d loved him when she was younger, he had no idea how much she regretted her behaviour now, and he had no idea how humiliating it was to stand here and realise that she had no idea who he was at all.

Hoseok looked a little taken aback at her interruption. “Oh? Okay. Uh, good, then.”

“M-hm.”

“I’m gonna go.”

“You do that.”

This time when he turned to leave, Chaeyoung stopped him. “Oppa, wait.” She went to her desk and rifled through a drawer, feeling the cool metal against her fingers before bringing out the object. “I think this is yours,” she said, handing it to him.

He extended his hand automatically, frowning as she dropped it into his palm. “Is this -” He squinted at it. “Oh, my God. This is my keychain.”

“Yeah.” She cleared her throat, feeling distinctly lighter all of a sudden.

“I lost it years ago.” He looked up at her. “How - how did you find it?”

“Oh, I - I found it in a box of stuff, in the attic.” She shrugged and folded her arms across her chest again. “You must have dropped it here, I guess.”

“Wow.” He nodded, looking slightly more chipper as he shoved the keychain into his pocket. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” A sudden honk sounded outside and it felt like it was reverberating through her chest. “You should go.”

“Yeah.” He raised a hand halfway, like he was saying goodbye to someone he met in line at a bookstore. “See you around, Chae.”

“See you.” She stepped forward to shut the door, watching him walk out of her room and out of her house. Before she could lose her nerve, she spoke again. “The new single is… really cool.”

He was almost at the foot of the stairs when he stopped and looked up at her. For the first time in her memory, Hoseok smiled at her, a real, genuine smile. It was like the sun had come out, and as he thanked her and continued on his way, it occurred to Chaeyoung that it was quite possibly the only time she’d ever see it.

—

That night was the last time Chaeyoung saw Hoseok for several years. She heard from his parents that he barely had time to eat or sleep, let alone come back to visit his family. He did return for a weekend once, but she’d been away on a school trip with her football team at the time. Apart from that, Hoseok was as far out of her life as was possible.

When she was seventeen, Chaeyoung entered her first relationship. He asked her out by the water cooler after a week of rumours, and their tryst lasted a whole month until she broke up with him in the biology lab, feeling rather smothered by how he insisted on showing up at all her football practices. He didn’t take it well and responded with rumours of his own, following which Chaeyoung’s reputation began preceding her.

Her seventeenth birthday party took place a month before she graduated high school and since she was leaving Gwangju, an unexpected nostalgia caused her to invite every single person she knew. A month later she graduated along with her friends, partied for a week straight until she spent the rest of the summer waiting until she could leave for college in Busan. She did the same a year later for her eighteenth birthday, and since it occurred in the summer, all her friends were back in Gwangju and able to attend.

As it turned out, the only thing remaining that could ensure that Chaeyoung lived her own life with no ties to her brother was leaving Gwangju. In college, she had the opportunity to be who she was. Everyone was figuring it out, and she joined them. She paid attention to the classes she liked, spent nights in the library and in dorms as people quizzed each other, went on weekend trips, had boyfriends, joined college clubs - everything that gave her the satisfaction that she’d made the best out of her college years.

The most stressful time of those years came right at the end, when everyone was applying for jobs. After months of gruelling essays, internships and interviews, Chaeyoung managed to get what she considered her dream job. Her father wasn’t too certain about it; he said it didn’t “sound like a real job” but after her stepmother pitched in during their video call and persuaded him to give it a chance, he gave in.

Chaeyoung didn’t care; it gave her the same vibes as her favourite English movie, The Devil Wears Prada. Condé Nast wasn’t a magazine per se but her job wasn’t exactly that of a secretary either; the role simply said research and while she would’ve liked it to be a bit more specific - maybe columnist - she was willing to pay her dues, especially if it meant getting to live in Seoul, not wearing boring formal clothes to work and possibly working with some truly fancy brands like GQ or Vogue someday.

Moving to Seoul was less romantic than she’d expected; it was a busy, expensive city and no one had time to stop and take a breath, let alone help out a twenty-one year old who’d just moved to the city.

It’s all part of the experience, her inner voice said to her, the one she’d dubbed Ma when she was little. It was less of a coping mechanism and more of a conscience now, and it was what convinced her to move into an apartment in Hongdae with a senior she’d known back in college.

Sungmi was nice and all, but she intimated Chaeyoung a little bit. Her many piercings, her abrupt way of talking and her strange sense of humour always had Chaeyoung on edge. She also had this boyfriend who smelled perpetually of weed and had a cousin he frequently invited over, making it not the ideal living arrangement. Still, even Chaeyoung had to admit that despite the aesthetics, Sungmi had been living in Seoul by herself for nearly a year and was holding onto a good job at a catering company. Most importantly, she was offering her spare room at really low rent, something Chaeyoung was currently giving top priority to.

Plus, the best thing about Sungmi’s apartment was the parties.

“Get, um…” Sungmi moves away from the speaker and asks someone something. “Everything,” she says finally. “Just make sure there’s Absinthe and Bacardi in it and we’ll be good. I’m trusting you, Chaeyoung,” she adds knowingly, abruptly hanging up.

Faced with a plethora of bottles before her in the liquor store, Chaeyoung sighs. She isn’t even fully sure what this party is for, except that vodka and rum are required in large quantities.

“Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder, I guess,” she mutters, holding the plastic basket up as she scans the shelves, feeling a strange sense of responsibility towards her older roommate’s expectations.

Meanwhile, Jung Hoseok is near the fridges, rattling off the different beer brands to Jimin on the phone.

“I feel like wheat beer,” says Jimin thoughtfully, “but think about the calories.” He pauses as someone says something at his end. “And Taehyung wants that fruity soju.” He whines as Taehyung says something else loudly. “Okay, specifically green apple.”

Hoseok stands there, motionless, as Jimin goes through a minor Friday evening crisis. “Got it. Now, Jimin, you have about thirty seconds to make your decision before I leave this place. Beer-less.”

The younger member sighs heavily. “Alright, just get me a six pack of Corona,” he says finally, as though with a huge effort. “It’s always safe.”

Hoseok closes his eyes and counts to five in his mind, hoping he won’t snap at Jimin for wasting his time debating some random Swedish beer before ultimately deciding on Corona. “Will do.” He hangs up.

Once he has everything, he goes through the list on his phone again, hurriedly making sure he has everything for everyone. As he reaches the end of the list, he realises there’s only one thing remaining.

He spots a clerk at the end of the aisle and looks away. He’s managed so far without being recognised; he’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible. He shuffles towards the spirits, peering at the names and hoping the bottle appears all of a sudden when finally - finally - he spots the green label, the only one of its kind.

“Thank god,” he whispers and reaches for it, the same time as another hand wraps around the bottle. He flinches and withdraws his hand immediately before turning to see the only other person in the entire liquor who could possibly need Absinthe.

Something clicks in Hoseok’s brain, like a track being slowed down in post-production. “Wait…”

She raises her eyebrows. “You really don’t recognise me?”

Hoseok chuckles. It’s too unbelievable. “Dude, I think I saw you at more family dinners than my sister. Wow, Chaeyoung,” he says, taking a step back to look at her. Is she taller? “You look… older.”

“I am. Significantly. And you look…” Chaeyoung frowns and bites her lip, as though searching for something. “… blonder.” She nods as he reaches for his cap and pulls it down further over his head, tucking the few loose strands under the cloth.

“Yeah, that’s… work.” There’s a few seconds of awkward silence that makes Hoseok uncomfortable. They were never friends, but he can’t remember ever being this… unsettled around her. It’s almost like she’s a work acquaintance he’s run into, not the kid he grew up next door to.

He realises he hasn’t said anything and immediately scrambles. “Uh, so… what are you doing here? Wait, what are you doing here?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a liquor store. I mean, you’re - you drink?”

“Yeah… I’m twenty-one. Almost twenty-two.” She bites her lips and shakes her head. “I don’t know why I said that. I just turned twenty-one.”

It takes Hoseok a moment to process this. She certainly looks older…

“Wow. Twenty-one.”

“I know.” Chaeyoung looks around before her gaze lands on the bottle still in her hand. “Oh, you can have this.”

“Oh, that’s alright. I don’t need it.”

She raises her eyebrows. “No? You don’t need it for, like… a famous person party?”

He chuckles awkwardly. “Oh, no. A friend of ours, Nari, is coming over tonight and she was the only one who wanted Absinthe.”

“Oh, then you can take it for Nari.”

“Nah, she just wants to get hammered,” he replies, shaking his head. “That can be done with anything. She doesn’t get time off from her job so when she does, she likes to go all out and that includes, unfortunately, a lot of vodka, but I’m sure whiskey would do the trick just as -“ He breaks off when he notices Chaeyoung’s tilted head and slight frown.

“I’ll take it,” she says after a moment. “My roommate’s having a party tonight. Many people need to get hammered with this.”

“Roommate, nice. Wait, are you living in Seoul?”

She nods. “Yeah. Just moved here.”

Too much is happening for Hoseok to process in one trip to the liquor store. “You -“ He pauses. “Does Chanyeol know?” he asks in a low voice.

Chaeyoung chuckles. “Yeah, he knows. My dad knows, too.”

It’s the first glimpse he’s seen so far of the old Chaeyoung, the deliberate omission of her stepmother. But he knows better than to acknowledge it. “Wow, you - you really grew up.”

She gives him an odd look and opens her mouth to say something but then closes it, as though changing her mind. “I did,” she agrees.

Hoseok knows he should be saying something more, maybe offering something - for Chanyeol’s sake. But what is he meant to say to someone he can barely recognise? She’s actually taller, from what he can remember. Her hair isn’t in ponytails anymore and she’s standing differently, too, somehow…

But before he can wrack his brain for the right words, Chaeyoung takes a deep breath.

“I should go.” She holds up the bottle of Absinthe. “Thanks for this.”

“Oh, of course,” he says, nodding and stepping aside. As she brushes past him, he frowns again: is she wearing perfume? Chaotic, skinned-knee, football-playing Chaeyoung?

But the moment passes him and so does Chaeyoung. Before leaving, she raises a hand halfway. “It was nice running into you, Hoseok.”

“Yeah,” he says softly, watching her for a moment as he tries to put his finger on why everything seems so strange. His phone pings then, though, and he remembers the errand he was running. He needs to find an alternative to Absinthe now and move on from one of the more surreal experiences of his life.

He takes a couple of steps forward before something else clicks, and he can finally put his finger on at least one thing.

“Wait,” he says slowly, turning around but not even really trying to spot her near the check-out line. “What did you call me?”

—

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#hoseok x oc #hoseok x reader #hoseok fanfic #hobi x reader #hobi fanfic #btswritingcafe #thebtswritersclub #btshoneyhive #bangtanbathhouse #bangtanwhq #houseofddaeng #btscarnivalnet #kvanity #bangtanoasis #wkcnet #j-hope fanfic #hyunglinenetwork

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