#j hope imagine

[supertuna-sideblog]

🍓Pairing: Dance Teacher!Jung Hoseok x F. Reader

🍓 Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI)

🍓 Word Count: 9.2k

🍓Warnings: negative self thought/talk, swearing, dirty talk, smut, kissing, heavy marking, fingering, unprotected sex, some degradation, requited pining (please let me know if I missed something)

🍓Summary: It's been a year since you started dancing at Hoseok's studio, in that time an easy friendship has bloomed between you both, and maybe a bit more on your part. But Hoseok's just a friend, and there couldn't possibly be more there, right?

🍓 Comments: From the first time I heard Hozier's Eat your young I knew I had to write something with J hope for it. So here we are! Please enjoy!

“5, 6, 7, 8–” his voice carries over the pounding bass that hums through your muscles and bones. 

But you can’t think about his voice, you can’t think about anything. Right now you’re focused on the music on the next steps Hoseok planned in the routine. Not the way the sweat-soaked shirt clings to the muscles on his back as he moves from one energetic step to the next.

Your tongue, definitely, doesn’t slip out of your lips to trace along the bottom as your eyes watch a bead of sweat slide down the column of his throat to disappear beneath the collar of his shirt. 

You’re focusing on the dance, on the way your body moves in time with the tempo, and how the riffs of the guitar send shivers down your spine when they harmonize just right with the bass. Making sure your hands stay on beat.

Shoes squeak against the polished hardwood. You risk a glance at the girl beside you. Her movements are effortless, fluid, and graceful. A bolt of jealousy heats through you, but your eyes close and you focus again on just you and the music. Hips swivel in time to the chorus. Hoseok’s voice calls out over the music, “final stretch, make it count!” 

His favorite thing, to shout in the last measures of the song, the final encouraging push that gets everyone through the last grueling set of an hour long practice, because Hoseok loves to challenge his students and this one, an intermediate class, is no exception. 

Your hips chant to the side as your eyes slide open to catch Hoseok’s last moves. Drawn to the way his hands go from fluttering in the air to caress his inner thigh.

Your breath hitches as for a second your mind stalls. Gaze memorizing the way, his lithe fingers trace along the muscle there up to the seam of his hip, where his hand cups a subtle bulge. 

Before tracing up the line of his lean body, even in baggy sweats, he looks perfect. His shirt shows just enough skin to get your heart racing, the collar loose enough it’s slipped off his shoulder, the tender flesh stretched over his collarbone tempts you.

As your hungry ogling finishes its course and meets those intense brown eyes, you pale. Fuck, you’ve been caught.

You stumble on the last turn, but catch yourself just in time to face the right direction. Kae-in snickers behind you as heat blooms across your cheeks, and to the tips of your ears.

Thankfully, though no one else has caught your blunder. But pray that Hoseok hadn’t seen it... he didn’t make a comment.

Then again, the last time he’d caught you gawking at him during practice. He’d give you a cheeky wink before cackling at your dumb-struck expression. 

The dance finishes with a quick pose. Your legs quiver for a moment, unsure if they can hold your weight. You pushed yourself today, and your body is feeling it everywhere.

Not the smartest move, considering you have your private studio session after this. Other dancers around you pant and huff, catching their own breath. The music cuts and Hoseok claps, along with everyone else.

You manage a weak clap with the others.

“Great work everyone!” 

Hoseok's voice is energetically gleeful as he wanders over to the cabinet where the audio setup sits. Like he hasn't been dancing for 8 plus hours.

His fingers move effortlessly as he turns off the music. Shoulders rise and fall as he catches his breath. The sweat clinging to his golden skin making it to glow under the fluorescent studio lights. 

“Amazing as always class, remember to practice for next week. We’ll have auditions for the spring recital and all that jazz. I hope to see all of you there!” 

Everyone takes their time packing up. A gaggle of students having rushed Hoseok to ask about audition ideas. Most of them vying for the last few minutes of class, for his undivided attention.

He’s happy to converse with all of them, girls fawning over him, a few guys in there too. Eagerly asking for advice on their movements and audition ideas.

Which he happily responds with a critique that’s just the right amount of brutal and constructive.

You make it to your bag, a slight wobble in your step, manage a painful kneel, find your water bottle, and take some healthy swigs from the plastic container. Your throat is grateful for the cooling fluid.

Kae-in is beside you in a second, her hoodie already on. She’s put on the hood but left her ears out. She has that look on her face that tells you she saw the entire last measure debacle. Her eyes crinkled in a shit-eating grin as she grabbed her things to leave. 

“So wanna go over your little stumble in the last steps?”

You level a glare at her, half tempted to throw your sweat-rag at her, but you resist. Rather, rubbing it along your neck and face, sighing softly as you dry yourself. While you loved dancing, you hated the sweat that came with it.

“I tripped, I do that all the time–” she snickers, leaning close enough that the others packing up don’t hear her. 

“I saw the way you were eating him up, not that I don’t blame you–” now the sweat-rag comes out, as you shove the offending thing at her, Kae-in lets out a squeak falling on her butt.

You glare down at her. She has the audacity to pout, like she’s the victim of this!

“I was not, I tripped, and that is all you need to know,” you respond with a mocking pout of your own.

She gets back up and hits your shoulder. You turn to continue the fight sweat-rag at the ready, but she holds up her hands in mock defeat. 

“It’s not like you're the first girl to do it, certainly not the last. I mean, look, he’s still being swarmed and I know he’s answered their questions 20 times.”

She smirks as she glances over to the far corner where Hoseok still stands with his gaggle, smiling and laughing. 

“I didn’t–” she hushes you and winks. 

“You didn’t look, I know, you’ll have plenty of time to do that in the next hour–” you clap a hand over her mouth. 

“Kae-in, I love you, but you are a pain in the ass, you know that?” 

She smiles that squinted eye smile that makes you laugh. You give her one back before standing, removing your hand from her mouth, taking another few drinks of your water before glancing at your phone. 

A couple of messages, both from…Hoseok. 

How the hell did he send the texts while dealing with all the questions? But you’re checking them before you think to stop yourself. 

I’m undecided on food, stuck between bulgogi or jajangmyeon 😛…do you have a preference? 

Also if you’ve already eaten no worries. :3 

You can’t help the small smile that lifts the corner of your mouth. 

“Ohhhh dinner and a show–” 

“Kae-in, I swear if you don’t leave I’m shoving my sweat rag in your mouth and Jin Ho can help you fish it out,” she laughs as she skips just out of your reach. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep!” 

She’s gone with the last few stragglers from class. The flock has left with Hobi, probably to get food. You type a quick reply. 

I will love you forever if you get me some jajangmyeon <3 

As you glance around the studio and check the windows to make sure everyone is gone your phone buzzes in response. 

If I knew getting your love was that easy I’d have offered sooner ;) 

His texts always make you laugh, and while some small, tiny, insignificant part of you hopes he’s actually flirting you know he isn’t.

He’s your teacher, and yes, you’d consider him a friend at this point. After all, you'd been coming to the studio for a little over a year. 

You’d run into him hanging a flier at the local rec center and after a short conversation, he’d handed you a neon pink flier and given you a wide heart-shaped smile before going on his way.

You’d signed up the next week for a beginners class, needing another outlet besides working out on a treadmill. 

It’d been a year, discovering a love for dancing you’d never known you had. Also…getting the last hour of the studio all to yourself for a private session didn't hurt.

Especially when Hoseok had offered it to you when you’d mentioned wanting more time to dance besides just doing group work. 

“I think you have a talent, and I think if you went out for some competitions you’d surprise yourself,” you’d almost choked on your coffee when he’d mentioned competing. He’d laughed as you coughed. 

Hoseok was kind, it was one of the many reasons you’d stayed on with dance, even after being so self conscious about everything. The way you moved for a start, in the beginning the beat just seemed out of reach.

It seemed like your brain would command your limbs to move and it would be just a step off from everyone else. You liked to joke, you had two left feet, but through Hoseok’s diligent, and patient work you’d bloomed…At least you’d like to think you have. 

The buzz of your phone pulls you from your thoughts. 

At the restaurant, jajangmyeon is gonna be a bit D:

You smile again at his use of emoticons. He texts like a teenager. But you’re quick to reply, so that you can work on your set. 

No worries, you know how long I’m here till, also I’m not leaving till I get my promised food ;)

You stand taking your water to the front of the class, the mirrored wall reflects your tired self back at you. You don’t look too long, putting your water down to go to the stereo cabinet.

Phone in hand you find the aux cord, hooking up the device the speakers connect with a loud pop. 

Getting into your music app you ponder on what to dance to first, it doesn’t take long before you’re settling on some low and slow music. The songs are just mixes, without vocals.

Just music and beats to focus on, rather than lyrics to muddle your mind, thinking about what steps would go best with them. A deep bass pounds through the amps, vibrating the room with their depths before the subtle electronic chords join the hum.  

A cooldown from Hoseok’s fast-paced, hyped music is a welcome change your muscles need. Your movements are slow and languid, letting your body stretch into each move rather than a quick jab and jolt to the next. 

You loved Hoseok’s dances.

They lit up something inside you, got your heart pumping. His dances were a mixture of a work out and sex as Kae-in loved to joke. Hoseok put everything into his routines and asked his students to do the same. 

You tried hard not to think about all your recent classes with him, in the last few sessions when he’d done an observation he’d come so close to you, watching your every movement.

No matter how many times you’d danced in front of him you felt like a beginner all over again. 

Could feel the way his eyes assessed every maneuver. How his hand was quick to correct a move. Quick to straighten your posture, his fingers lingering against the swell of your hip as he demonstrated how to move your hips in the choreo.

Your skin tingled from the touch, your cheeks warm at the thought, the wish that his fingers had stayed on your skin, that they’d moved lower. 

You attempt to shake off the thoughts, trying to focus on your dance, matching your made-up choreo to the music. Your hands start at your hips, legs spread wide as you lower into a squat.

Palms cupping your thighs as you spread them for the imaginary audience, or just a singular audience member. A quick bounce and your back up hands trail up your body again, fingers card through your sweat-soaked hair.

Pulling the strands out of the messy bun, slipping the hairband onto your wrist.

You risk a glance to your form in the mirror, again a wave of insecurity takes over. Even as you try to avoid making eye contact. Rather just watching your body move in time with the bass, a roll of your hips that follows the line of your leg to the tips of your toes. 

Your body is like water, let the music flow from it.

Another memory, when you first started dancing, and Hobi had started letting you use the last open hour of the studio.

The one-on-one time helped immensely, but also made everything so much worse. From Hobi’s unwavering attention, to his many assisting touches.

How easily he’d stop you during a session to maneuver you, how he’d demonstrate a move you just couldn’t get the hang of.

The heat from his hands all but burning through the loose clothing you wore normally to practice. How you refused to look him in the eye when he had you practice a move in the mirror. 

Just watch yourself, that will help. 

Sure you try watching yourself in the mirror–

I do it all the time. 

You’d made the mistake of looking him in the eye at that moment, in the low green light of the background LEDs they were shadowed and intense.

The way you felt pinned and devoured in that moment, the tension rose and for a moment something stirred inside of you. Your knees shook, stomach swooping, mouth going dry.

The moment broke when Hobi’s lips pulled into his signature smile that didn’t reach his eyes. But that instance had you refusing to look him in the eye for a month.

The remembered conversation heats your cheeks as you try focusing on the last steps of your sultry choreo. Twisting your arms in a spin that ripples down through your body.

Muscles tense and release, the ache from the previous rehearsal is gone. Replaced by the heat of wanting to get started on another.

The song comes to a soft close and your cool down has done nothing to lessen the heat you feel beneath the oversized t-shirt you liked to wear to practice.

As you stretch you consider the time on the wall clock, the cool down took a couple of minutes. Hobi would still be out getting food. And you really hadn’t accomplished much in your session, besides frustrating yourself further.

You huff as your body throbs, in both exhaustion and restlessness.

Like it can’t settle on one feeling over the other, and that adds to your mounting frustration. Walking over to the soundbooth you stop the next track.

Phone in hand you pause over the playlist, not really sure what to dance to next. The usual playlist for you is slow and steady. It helps loosen you up after a hard class and sets you up to relax when you get home. 

But tonight none of the songs on the playlist are calling to you, so you leave the usual and venture out into the ever changing mood of your music library. You don’t know what starts it, but there is a song you’ve had in mind for a while now. A few flicks of your thumb brings you to the album. 

Another tap and flick, and there it sits. Eat Your Young by Hozier had taken vicious root in your mind ever since you’d heard the beginning scat. The sinful chord riffs and the melodic mournful husk of Hozier’s voice had awakened something, primal, in you. 

The lyrics certainly hadn’t helped, the grit and grime to them. Hozier’s music hit all the places in your brain that you needed while dancing. And you just wanted to dance. Not focus on how you are dancing and certainly not focusing on someone else watching you dance. 

“Let’s see if you can get me out of my head,” mumbled to yourself, setting the song on loop. You pause though considering the brightness of the dance studio, intent on getting the mood for this song.

Remember Hobi mentioning that sometimes all it takes is a change in lighting for inspiration to strike. This song called for something dark, something carnal. 

Taking the remote you turn off the main lights, the fluorescent bulbs flicker off, and with another push of a button the LEDs glow to life.

Hobi was quite proud of his LEDs; he'd spent an entire weekend sticking them to every inch of the ceiling, making sure they were perfectly aligned so that the room would be filled with the glow of the multicolor lights. He’d left them on a cool blue, probably when he was setting up for class earlier. A few clicks and blue bleeds into a deep red. 

Basking in the lights for a moment, your fingers toy with the hem of your oversized shirt wanting to just throw the thing off. Overheated from class, and relief seems like it’ll only come from losing the garment.

You consider for a moment, Hobi won’t be back for a bit. You get the dancing out of your system, and the heat off of your skin. Before you can talk yourself out of it you're shucking the sweat coated fabric off. 

Your skin cries in relief as it’s exposed to the chill of the studio, in only your sports bra and loose sweats you let the music overtake you. 

You let the first bangs of the drum move you, your shoulders jolting with the bass. Rolling into a leisure sway as Hozier's voice echoes in the small studio. The bass ripples through your body, you feel your heart matching its hypnotizing beat. 

I’m starving, darling, let me put my lips to something

Let me wrap my teeth around the world

Your fingers trace the edge of your lips. You take a soft bite of your fingertip, before tracing it down your chin, throat, between your sport bra covered breasts to wrap around your abdomen where your hips sway in a lazy pattern. 

Start carving, darling, I wanna smell the dinner cooking 

Wanna feel the edge start burn

You keep more to the middle of the room, exploring the small space around you. Your legs widen their stance as you dip down from your waist dragging your clawed hands over your legs back up your body to your throat. 

Honey, I wanna race you to the table

If you hesitate the gettin’ is gone

You close your eyes, just enjoying the movement of your body and the intensity of the song. As the violins pitch higher and their notes grow frantic your breath pants as you meet their dissonant call. 

Get some

Pull up the ladder when the flood comes

Throw enough rope until their legs have swung

Seven new ways that you can eat your young

Moves become more turbulent but there is still that underlying calm and control to your dance. Hobi is about precision in his seemingly erratic movements, yours have a much less practiced feel to them, even as you lull from one move to the next.

You’re so close to losing focus, letting Hoizer’s honeyed voice wash over your mind, the tickle of his falsetto sending a shiver down your spine. So close to losing inhibition, be free of the cage that is your mind, just dancing, instead of judging and stalling.

But you stumble a move not hitting at the time you’d hoped it would, and then like a line of dominos one move then another starts to crumble your resolve.

You huff, eyes scrunching in frustration as you attempt the movement again, a simple move, you’ve done it a thousand times in class, but your muscles won’t obey and your hips feel off, like they’ve slipped out of joint for a moment. And again while your brain signals to your body to move, nothing listens. 

You growl in annoyance, sweat dripping from your scalp, drops slithering their way down your neck, pooling uncomfortably in your bra. As you miss one beat then the next and now you’re behind in the music.

Left foot forward, sway your hip, let the movement flow from your hip to your knee to your ankle. But fail again as your joints lock and refuse to flow as they once did, your fingernails dig into the palm of your hands, wanting so badly for this stupid move to hit.

For muscles to relax and just get this dance done. 

Hands settle easily on your hips, and everything halts, a soft gasp leaves you. Music fading to the background as all you can hear is a high pitched chime in your ears. Your hands come up out of reaction, nails dig into the soft flesh of his hands in a panic.

Hobi grunts softly at the sudden pain of your blunted nails in his skin. But the panic ebbs as you recognize those long fingers beneath your own. He wasn’t supposed to be back yet, you had time, your mind races.

“Come on,” his voice is soft in the shell of your ear, “you know this move.” 

Hobi’s hands are solid as they keep your hips trapped between his palms. His thumbs settle just above the band of your sweats, the heat of him sparks across sensitive flesh. He maneuvers you with ease, rolling your left hip forward and letting the right follow.

The grip of his fingers as they press into the fat sends a shock of pleasure coiling up your spine. 

“Yeah, just like that,” he mumbles again, his breath is warm as it fans over your ear, cheek and neck. Skin prickling as goosebumps rise in its wake. The smell of him overwhelms, the sweet spice of a cologne you can’t name.

You finally muster the courage to open your eyes. Glancing down at Hobi’s hands still there on your hips. The pounding of your heart fills your ears, as you look down then up. Meeting his eyes in the red glow, your breath hitches, and your gaze drops again. 

“Oh no,” like lightning, he strikes, hand leaving your hip to grasp your chin between thumb and forefinger. His grip forces your face up, body tensing as he presses himself against you.

Your hand chases his grasping at his wrist. Your fingers find purchase on the multitude of bracelets there. Fingernail catching on the beads of a bracelet you know one of his younger students made for him. 

“Hobi–”

The fabric of his t-shirt does little to defend against the heat of his body, the hard line of his chest contouring to the curves of your back. Your mind can’t ignore the way he so effortlessly molds into you. Two puzzle pieces connecting together so easily, but while your bodies contour so easily, you feel trapped beneath his steely gaze.

You refuse to look at him; you feel exposed, judged and assessed by those eyes. 

“Look at me.” 

The order is spoken low in his chest, feel the vibration of his voice against your shoulder blades. The tone makes you shiver, another bolt of warm pleasure strikes you. Warming your cheeks, and sending your mind reeling.

You follow his command slow, and unwilling, your heart beats against your ribcage, a wild indeterminable pattern. His fingers clench, digging into the soft skin of your cheeks. You wince a bit at the pain, but finally you meet his eyes again. 

In the red light they look black, taking you in, those dark eyes burning a trail from your toes up your left leg, pausing at your hip, the hand there clenching for a moment. Thumb brushing along your skin above your hip bone sending a new wave of goosebumps along your skin.

Tracing the curve of your waist, pausing at the swell of your breasts, covered by your sports bra. Up to the dip of your collarbone, you watch as he leans forward his lips so close to your skin. His breath warm before he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder. 

A weak gasp leaves you as the touch of his lips sends a throb through you. A heat grows in your innards, muscles clench, breath hitching as he meets your gaze. 

“Hobi, what–”

“No hiding from me tonight.”

Mouth agape as you struggle to find your voice, Hobi smiles. It’s a slow pull of lips over teeth, the glint in his eyes as he holds your gaze. His thumb rubs along the edge of your jaw.

The touch sparking a new sensation with every stroke against your skin, his breath warm over your cheek. You’re aware of every touch, every atom of him that’s against you beside you. You’re greedy for more.

“’m not hiding,” you finally mumble and he chuckles, another warm huff of breath over your skin, his lips brush against your neck. 

“You’ve been hiding every class,” he mumbles as he presses closer, the hand on your hip sliding along the edge of your sweats, slipping from under your hand, though you don’t stop it, coming to a stop over your abdomen.

You swear your heart stops as you feel the heat of his palm just beneath your belly button. Fingertips toying at the hem of your sweats, so close to slipping beneath the fabric.

“Thinking I don’t know you’re watching my every move, where your eyes linger a bit too long.”

He chuckles into your neck the tip of his nose traces along the length of skin. His lips find your pulse and he laughs softly as you whine, distantly you catch that the song has looped. The deep bass starting again. “Not that I mind.” 

“Who wouldn’t watch you,” a breathless retort as Hobi smiles, considering you in the mirror for a moment.

His eyes shine and then his smile turns sinister, his nuzzle pauses and then he’s biting your neck. A shriek of pain leaves you and you leap from his grip. He lets you get away, though by the clench of his fingers you sense he didn’t want to let you go that easily.

The distance helps, your mind clearing as you turn backing up into the studio mirror wall. Pressing yourself against the cool surface, fingers finding the bite mark on your neck. Pulse hammering against your fingertips.

The jolt of pain ebbs into a lingering throb. One that doesn’t help the pulse between your legs. It makes you want to tense your thighs to relieve the ache there. 

Leveling a look at Hoseok trying to get your bearings. He’s quiet, those eyes shadowed by his long bangs, you see his jaw shift as he considers you. You're teetering on the edge of something. Backed up to the cliff's edge and you're not sure if you’re ready to plunge off.

“Hoseok–” 

“If you don’t want this, I’ll stop.” 

His voice is soft, beneath the croon of Hozier’s voice, for a moment he looks like the Hobi you’re used to. The one you can handle. The friend who is always eager to laugh, the one you fall into easy conversation with, the one you figured would never consider you like he is now. 

“I–” your voice hitches, confusion clouding your mind as your fingers trace the mark of his teeth in your flesh.

You lean your head back, your head meets the mirror with a soft thud, the music swells again, eyes closed as you consider for a moment what continuing this means. 

I won’t lie, if there’s something still to take

There is ground to break, whatever’s still to come

You don’t hear him move over the thrumming bass. He cages you in, his hands rest above your shoulders as he encompasses you. His breath is warm as it glides over your face. 

Your eyes flutter open and take in the man before you. The chiseled perfection that is his face, the sharp jut of his chin, the soft rounded apples of his cheeks.

His lips, usually pulled in that sweet heart-shaped smile are drawn together in a firm line as those dark eyes watch you from under the curled mess that is his bangs. He’s still in his practice outfit, the same baggy t-shirt, and even baggier sweats. They overwhelm the lithe frame that you’ve so badly wanted a chance to see. 

It makes you want to squirm away to avoid his gaze as you’ve always done, he leans down nose brushing against yours. 

“Don’t hide away from me, I’m tired of trying to make you look.” 

His voice is soft and your heart stutters. As you look at him, truly look at him. The longing in those dark eyes, the downturn of his lips. The little freckle on his cupid’s bow.  You want him, hell you’ve wanted him since the day you took the neon pink flier from his painted fingers. 

“Hoseok, I–I want you–” 

It’s like you’ve opened the floodgates, he’s dropping down lips finding yours in the dim red glow of the lights. At first the kiss is soft, like he’s worried you’ll change your mind, pull away that you spoke before you could voice what you really wanted to say.

But no, you press into the kiss. Slot your lips against his with a fervor you haven’t felt for someone in years. Your fingers thread through the curled locks of his hair, pulling him closer. 

He groans into your lips, tongue slipping out to trace the bottom, asking entrance which you easily grant. The way his tongue swirls into your mouth has you whining, knees locking as your mind thinks for a moment how that tongue would feel against your clit. Which gives a painful throb in response. 

His tongue dances with your own, easily slipping along the appendage with ease, he chuckles as your tongue chases him as he pulls back. He presses closer, body molding to yours as you press back against the mirror. 

He huffs softly into the curve of your neck, where he bit you only moments before. He chuckles and presses a kiss into the mark. 

“Sorry, heard the lyrics and, well, I couldn’t help myself–” 

Your fingers pull on his locks still trapped in their grip, the groan that leaves his chest makes you shiver. His eyes roll in their sockets as they look up at you, with his jaw dropping you whine seeing the tip of his tongue trace the path along his bottom lip. 

“Hobi, please–” 

“Please what?” He teases, his hands sliding down the mirror back to your hips where he presses you against the wall.

His thumbs sweep against the joint where hip and thigh meet. His mouth goes back to press kisses against your neck. Finding where you pulse beats and sucking another mark there. 

You feel him smile against your skin as you whine, hands leaving his hair to grasp his shoulders. To move him to do something, because your cunt is empty and aching, and only getting words as his mouth makes new marks along your collarbone and neck. You need something more than just the teasing he’s giving you. 

“Hobi–” 

“Use your words baby, I need to hear what you want.” 

His voice is a muttered groan against your throat as he kisses his way up to your ear. Taking the lobe between his teeth, he huffs a laugh as your nails dig impatiently into his shoulders. 

“Want to feel you, need to feel you–fuck,” you don’t know what you want to say, though your hips pressing into the palms of his hands are an indication that you need friction.

He sucks on the shell of your ear, nipping the cartilage and smirking when you moan softly. 

“Then be a good girl, and listen,” his voice is soft, and your eyes meet his as he pulls back. Hobi is gone, back is the Hoseok who makes every muscle in your body tremble after a hard dance practice. The one that makes you shiver. “Turn around, face the mirror.” 

He pulls back, his warmth leaving your skin makes you tremble, but you’re quick to comply. Turning and pressing yourself to the mirror, hands level with your shoulders. Your legs spread shoulder width apart. You risk a glance up in the mirror.

Hoseok stands back observing you, eyes traveling down the exposed flesh of your back, eyes lingering on the curve of your hip, that disappears into the baggy expanse of your sweats. Before they drag back up and meet your gaze in the mirror. You’re quick to look away. 

“Uh uh, no looking away tonight baby, eyes on me.” 

You know he means it, the threat is clear in his voice, and all you want is for Hobi to touch you, to do something. So with reluctance your eyes come back up, meeting his gaze even as it makes you squirm. 

“Good girl, listening so well.” 

You preen at his praise, half tempted to spread your legs wider, but you resist as he returns to press against you. His lithe body molds, again so perfectly, into the curves of your own.

His hands find purchase on your hips, slipping forward to a stop over the ties of your sweats. His index finger curls the tie around toying with the simple knot.

Your gaze is still locked with Hoseok's in the mirror, watching his lips pull into another smirk as he leans forward pressing a kiss to your shoulder. Eyes never leaving yours as your hips press back into his, feeling the weight of a bulge between the globes of your ass. He lets out a grunt, grinding himself into you.

A breathy laugh leaves him. 

“So eager, aren’t you?” 

He whispers into your ear the hand not toying with your sweats, drifts higher. Fingers trace patterns along the curve of your waist stopping to tease the edge of your sports bra. The material is thin, you can’t stop the moan that leaves you as his finger traces up the swell of your breast.

The tip of his finger finding your nipple and swirling around the bud. He groans into your neck as he feels the flesh pebble beneath his touch. His lips and teeth attack your neck and shoulder. Marking the skin with nips, and then soothing the sting with his tongue and lips. 

His hand gropes at your breast enjoying the softness of your flesh as it molds to his hand. 

“Hoseok,” your voice is soft, a needy whine as your fingers flex against the mirror surface and your eyes watch his hands. Wanting so badly for him to loosen the tie, to slip beneath the waistband and delve lower. 

“What baby?” He mumbles into your ear giving the lobe another nip which you gasp at the pain of, your hips press back and you smile as he moans into your hair the bulge growing as he toys with you. “What do you want?” 

“Please, fuck, your fingers–” your plea is silenced by another bite, this one sinking into the meat of your shoulder. A wispy whine leaves you, and Hoseok soothes the mark with another kiss. 

“What do you want, baby? Use your words.” 

Another command and you obey. 

“Need to feel your fingers on my cunt, or just fuck - in my cunt, please,” the noise he makes has your knees locking, fingers curling, nails scraping against glass.

It’s like lighting a match, his fingers yank the tie, the hem of your sweats sag, loose enough he’s able to slip under the fabric. 

He cups your mound, the moan that leaves you is guttural, your body humming with need. Gasping as he cups you through your panties. The thin fabric soaked, his finger easily toying with your clit through the cotton barrier. 

“Fuck, if I’d known you were this wet, wouldn’t have taken my time.” 

He breaths into your ear, the tip of his finger swirling in indiscernible patterns around your clit. The friction is nice, but his touches are soft, delicate.

Not what you need even as you whine and attempt to grind into his hand. The hand at your breast teases and pinches your nipple. The pleasure and pain mingle in your mind. Your eyelids flutter closed as your fingers curl against the mirror. 

“Eyes,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. Ever obedient you obey, eyes peeling open, finding his dark hazel gaze. Your innards stir, cunt clenching as you take in Hoseok’s appearance. 

His hair is disheveled, the brown locks curling around his face, the bangs sweeping over his brow, giving him a shadowed look.

Darkening his eyes, sending another throb of need through you, as his intense gaze burns every inch of you. 

His tongue flicks out every now and again wetting his bottom lip as he presses more kisses along the expanse of your shoulders. He leaves marks in his wake, the spots sting, but Hoseok is always quick to soothe them with a soft kiss or a kitten lick of his tongue.

You know you’ll be covered in his marks by the time he’s done. It makes your cunt flutter at the thought and you moan, pressing your forehead to the mirror.

You find Hoseok again, his gaze still locked onto yours. In the red glow of the lights he looks otherworldly, the shadows of his face almost black against the blood red of the highlights.

A demon you’d happily sell your soul to for nothing if only to gaze at his face a bit longer. 

You're pulled out of your musings when Hoseok’s fingers with a quick flick push aside the barrier of your panties to finally touch your clit. The soft stroke of his finger along the neglected bud has you keening. The sudden spike of pleasure makes you jolt away from the sudden onslaught.

But Hoseok’s prepared for your retreat pressing you up against the mirror, he traps your hips with his own. The hand at your breast moves to grasp at your hip, pinning you to him. Huffing a laugh into the column of your throat giving the skin there another bite. 

“No running away either,” he growls, his finger traces along the hood of your clit, before delving lower and pressing against the bud. The pleasure zaps through you, your cunt gushes, your knees quiver as you buck into his hand with another yelp of pleasure. 

“Fuck, Hoseok–” 

“Feel good?” He asks, watching his lips pull into a wicked smile as you mewl and pant against the mirror. Breath fogging over the smooth surface. The chill of it helps to alleviate some of the heat coming from both of you.

His pattern changes again, pressing again on your clit as your cunt throbs and your breath comes out in a quivering pant. 

“Yes–fuck yes, feels so good–”

Hoseok presses more against you, rutting his hips into your ass, the hard length of his shaft nestled perfectly between the globes of your ass. He pants softly into your ear nuzzling another kiss into the corner of your jaw. Groaning as you press back into him meeting his every movement. 

“Fuck baby, feel so good and I haven’t even fucked you yet.” 

You whine in reply as his fingers venture lower, the feeling of his finger slipping into your folds teasing your wet opening. He chuckles into your neck. 

“So fucking wet,” he whispers and you feel his lips sucking another mark onto your neck. Another gush of slick and Hoseok groans.

“What do you want?” 

“Please–” 

“Words, baby, I need to hear you say it.” 

“Need your fingers in me, please, please stop teasing–” 

He doesn’t wait for your plea to finish thrusting one long finger into you, your plea dies with a soft whine. He starts a slow steady pace, your cunt fluttering around his finger.

Just when you think you’re used to the first finger he adds another, your hips grind into his hand and his hips. All of his focus on fucking you open with his fingers. 

“F–fuck, so tight,” the whisper of his voice makes your cunt clench, the twitch of his cock against your ass makes you moan. Your eyes struggle to stay open, as Hoseok’s own bore into you, watching the way your jaw drops open your eyes roll back as the tip of his finger rubs just right against that spongy spot deep in your cunt again and again and again.

The heel of his palm grinds against your clit with every thrust. 

“Fuck Hoseok, fuck your fingers feel so good–” You babble, every thrust of his fingers pushing you closer and closer to the edge. The one you’ve been hanging on to for the last hour.

Hoseok presses closer, feeling the way your body tenses, the way your walls tighten around his fingers, and feels the warm slick dripping down his fingers, and your thighs, soaking your sweats. 

“You gonna come, huh?” 

He rasps against your ear pressing a kiss to the shell, the sounds of his voice makes your cunt flutter again. As his fingers thrust in again, he scissors the digits, there's a hint of pain cutting through the pleasure, but it only serves to push you closer.

As you gasp, fingers scramble against the mirrored wall. You whine, pressing desperately against him, he responds in kind, rutting his clothed cock against you harder.

“I’m so close, please,” your voice is a soft mewl as your hips grind desperately into his hand. Hoseok’s voice is breathless as he speeds up his hand. The wet noise of his fingers fucking you open mingle with the song still looping, again and again. 

“Come for me,” he growls, fingers flexing into your hip, and his teeth find the meat of your shoulder again.

The sound of his command, the tension breaks, your body stills mouth dropping open in a silent cry as your body twitches. Cunt quivering around his fingers as he fucks you through your release. He groans, fingers slowing, the heel of his palm coming to rest against your oversensitive clit. 

You let out a soft whine, as his palm grinds against you, fingers curling and rubbing against your walls. You pant, coming down from your high, finding Hoseok watching you in the mirror. 

“Fuck, so pretty when you come.” 

His praise makes you embarrassed, you go to hide from him again. The hand on your hip is quick grasping your chin and keeping you pinned beneath his gaze. 

“No hiding,” his fingers flex against your neck. You shiver finding his dark gaze, those deep pits devouring you whole. As you greedily do the same.

“Hoseok,” you whisper his name, and he groans softly pressing into you. His fingers still buried in your cunt, the movement makes you gasp. Still sensitive from your first climax. “Hoseok, fuck me, need to feel you–” 

He doesn’t let you finish, his fingers turn your head enough that he’s able to press a messy kiss to the corner of your lips. You follow his lead, pressing messy, needy kisses to his lips, wanting badly to reach more of him. But he only allows so much movement from your prone position against the mirror.

You jolt as his fingers slip from you, how empty your cunt feels without them. His hand leaves your neck, slipping down your back to grasp at the hem of your sweats, the other hand still wet with your slick goes to your other hip. 

With a quick jerk your sweats and panties are pulled down, you gasp into Hoseok’s kiss as your cunt is exposed to the cool of the room. His foot slips between yours and with a soft nudge he coaxes your legs further apart.

You try to ignore that you can feel the slick clinging to your folds, and trails of it dripping down your thighs, you're still soaked and quivering for more. 

Hoseok’s hands leave you for a moment, the soft rush of fabric, and then the heat of his cock settles between your ass cheeks again. He’s big and your eyes flutter at the thought of him filling you, Hoseok chuckles against your lips. 

“What’s going on in that mind baby?” 

You whine, pressing another messy kiss into his lips, as his hands find their way back to your hips, one slipping forward and finding your clit again to trace soft patterns into the bud.

“Need your cock, fuck, need it so bad Hoseok,” you gasp into his mouth, tongue slipping out to trace along his bottom lip, his own slips out to tangle with yours. He doesn’t reply, instead he maneuvers you both.

Backing up he pulls at your hips. Your front still pressed to the mirror, this new position forces your back to bow, and your legs spread, cunt all but on display for him. 

Hoseok makes a noise low in his throat, a groan of appreciation as his hands wander over the curve of your ass, and his fingers toy again with your weeping folds. You whine and buck into his hands. Wanting so badly to be filled again.

Hoseok chuckles before sliding behind you again.

Your eyes flutter closed as you feel the head of his cock press between your folds. A sharp smack to your ass has you jolting, a pained grunt leaving you as your eyes snap open to glare at Hoseok, who gives you a wide smirk back.

“How many times do I have to tell you? Eyes. On. Me.” 

He gives a smack to your ass, punctuating every word, your ass cheeks sting from his strikes, soft needy whimpers leave you. Hoseok groans as he feels more slick drip onto his cock. 

“Gonna fuckin wreck you, baby,” he huffs and you nod, he presses in, the head of his cock stretches you like his fingers couldn’t.

A moan catches in your throat has he takes his time, fucking into you inch by slow inch. Feeling every quiver, throb and flutter of your cunt around him. Hoseok is panting above you as he finally bottoms out. He’s thick, his cock filling you deliciously full. 

Your eyelids flutter, but you refuse to look away, watching as Hoseok’s jaw drops, the groan that leaves him as he fucks fully into you. The delicious sensations overwhelming him for a moment as your cunt clenches around him. 

“Fuck, baby, fuck you feel so good,” he pauses, whether to let you adjust to him or to just feel you.

You don’t know, his fingers flex, fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he presses himself into you.

“Fuck–wanted this for so long.”  

His mumble has you jolting, but before you can ask him what he means, his hands grasp your hips, fingertips digging into soft fat, finding purchase as he pulls out. Slow again, you both groan as the wet sounds of your coupling fill the room.

Your cunt clenches around him, needing him to fill you again. He pulls out till only the head remains inside, before fucking back in. Faster now that you're used to him. The slap of his hips against your ass echoes in the practice room. 

“Fuck, Hoseok, please, faster–need you to fuck me,” you beg him, tired of the foreplay. You need him to destroy your cunt. Need to feel that unhinged energy you’d witnessed so many times in class, been so close to tasting in the year you’d been dancing with him.

“Don’t have to tell me twice baby,” he growls, and it’s all he needs.

His grip tightens on your hips and his lips bare his teeth in a feral snarl as his hips set a fast, rough pace. 

He fucks into you with the abandon you’ve seen him dance with.

Taking his lower lip between his teeth as he thrusts hard and fast. Jolting you against the mirror, Hoseok pants and grunts with every thrust. 

“Fuck look at you,” he mutters, voice a panted growl as he fucks harder into you. The length of his cock fills you again and again. The head of his cock grinding just right against your soaked walls.

“Look so good up against the mirror creaming all over my cock, fuck knew you’d look so pretty getting fucked on my cock.” 

His words has your cunt gushing, and you answer his praise with little mewls and moans as he fucks you stupid against the mirror. His cock strokes against every part of your cunt, as he fucks you full.

The slap of his hips against your ass punctuate between lulls in the music. Your skin glows with sweat, your back arches as you press your hips back to meet his thrusts. 

Moaning, and crying as he fucks you. Hoseok answers your noises with grunts and growls of his own. Gasping when your cunt flutters around him, signaling you're close again. Hoseok wants to bring you there again, to watch your body give everything to him. 

“You close baby?” He growls between thrusts as his fingernails bite halfmoon marks into your skin. The pain only serves to pull you deeper into pleasure. 

“Yes, fuck, yes–I’m soclose–”

He leans over your form one arm wrapping around your waist, the other placing a hand above you on the mirror, and with another quick kiss to your shoulder he ups his pace. Fucking into you with a speed none of your previous partners had ever reached.

Your climax hits you suddenly, as his hips piston in and out of you, you come around his cock with a sudden broken cry. Your cunt convulsing around his cock as he fucks you through your second orgasm of the night, his hand slithers down between your legs finding your clit.

Rubbing the little bundle of nerves you keen. 

“Fuck! Hoseok!” Your body writhes attempting to get away from the sudden onslaught of pleasure as he keeps pistoning into your abused cunt. The pleasure rises again suddenly as your knees lock, and Hoseok’s cock throbs in your still pulsing cunt.

He gasps, as your cum again, sudden and blinding, white flashing before your eyes as you writhe in the prison that is his body. Warmth drips down your legs, and onto his. 

“Fuck–” Hoseok groans as his cock twitches in your cunt, the warmth of his release painting your walls. He buries himself inside of you, both of you softly moaning as you feel his come fill you. 

Your body shudders as you both remain there, your legs quivering, the only thing keeping you up at the moment is Hoseok’s solid arm around your waist. Muscles screaming for rest. Your mind rebooting as you process what the fuck just happened. 

Hoseok’s breath is warm as he remains hunched over you. His cock softening, as it weeps the last few drops of his release into you. When he pulls out you both gasp, you shiver as you feel the mixture of your releases leak from your abused cunt.

Hoseok pulls back from you.

There’s the rustle of fabric, Hoseok tucking himself back into his own sweats. You linger for a moment, your body unwilling to move just yet. Also, unwilling to look at Hoseok head on.

The sounds of his footsteps going to the cabinet. The bass of the song interrupted as he pauses your phone. He’s brought the original lights back on as the darkness behind your eyelids brightened.

You know you need to address whatever the hell just happened, but another part of you just wants to bury your head in the sand. Not think about this, maybe move to an entirely new town.

You jolt as you feel Hoseok’s hands on your sweats, pulling them up and covering you from the chill of the room. You don’t mind that your panties will be ruined…hell your sweats probably are too. 

“Come on, you gotta open your eyes at some point.” 

He speaks softly as he finishes getting your sweats back to their original position, you almost want to play dumb. You can keep your eyes closed as long as you want. But you also just want to get this over with.

Opening them you finally look at Hoseok in the mirror. 

He’s watching you, though this time not like before. Those soft hazel eyes looking at you like he’s waiting for the worst to happen.

You blink before turning around to actually look at him, he’s standing a bit back from you. Hands twisting behind him, so different from the Hoseok you’d very much just enjoyed fucking moments before. 

“Listen–” 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Hoseok shuts you up before you could even formulate a sentence. You blink at him, speaking before thinking. 

“What do you mean you’ve–” 

“Since I handed you the flier and you started coming to class.” 

He looks guilty, like he just pressured you into something, for a second your mind stalls, because you are a grown adult and you wholeheartedly consented to what just happened.

You don’t think as you step forward to press a kiss to his mouth, one he is quick in reciprocating. His hands find their way back to your hips as his tongue swirls with yours. You pull back your mind going fuzzy again. Your cunt is already wet at the thought of another round.

“I wanted to do that too, but fuck Hobi, you could have been a bit more obvious–” 

“Obvious!? I was all over you in class, my dances got a lot more risque when I knew you were watching.” 

You jolt, blinking up at him with something akin to the surprise Pikachu face. Hobi can’t stop the sudden laugh at your expression. But you’re melting into his hands as his thumbs rub circles into your hip bones. Your fingers clutch onto his arms as you blink owl-like in your confusion. 

“You…were?” 

“Oh my gosh girl,” he laughs leaning forward and pressing his forehead to yours. “I was trying so hard for you to see me.” 

“Hobi I see you, you’re all I see, your dancing, your laugh…everything.” 

 Both of you standing in the middle of the dancefloor. Just ruminating on what’s been spoken. His hands are warm, as he pulls you closer nuzzling his nose into the crown of your head. Your arms wrap around his waist. 

“So…where do we go from here?” You mumble into the warmth of his chest.

He smells wonderful, the musk of his sweat mixed with the heady spice of his cologne. You would stay here forever if you could. You sense he’s about to answer, but the loud gurgle of your stomach interrupts.

The laugh that leaves both of you echoes in the dance studio. You look up and meet those hazel eyes again, as he shoots you a wide heart-shaped smile and gives you a soft peck on the forehead.

“Let’s eat first and then we can figure out the heavy stuff, though I recall you stating your undying love to me if I got you jajangmyeon.”

His smile somehow widens as you laugh, fully intent on showing him how appreciative you are for the jajangmyeon, and for everything else.

#hoseok x reader #hoseok x you #j hope x reader #j hope x you #jung hoseok smut #j hope smut #j hope #bts fanfic #j hope imagine #jung hoseok #bts x reader #jhope #j hope bts #bangtan jhope #jhope fanfic

[beautifulfuckup99]

BTS PREFERENCE #1: YOU HELP HIM WHEN HE’S INSECURE

Warning(s): Slight Angst, and Hurt/Comfort

Author's Note: Hope you enjoy!

*********************************

Jin:

He sighs deeply as he stands in the bathroom, hands running through his hair as he scrunches his nose a bit. He’d felt old ever since Jungkook jokingly pointed out a white hair he’d seen on him during a photoshoot. He was old. According to some ARMY, he LOOKED old too.

Some people were beginning to refer to him as ‘Oppa-Jin’ and it was starting to really get to him.

You tap gently on the bathroom door. “Baby? You in there? Come on, lunch is ready...” You say.

He stays silent and you knock again. “Babe? Hey, I know you’re in there...” You tease.

He sighs and slowly opens the door. “There you are. What are you doing? Hiding from me on your day off. Shame on you.” You tease as he leans against the bathroom doorway.

“Babe, I... I have a question...” He says softly. You nod and watch him. “Would you... be able to help me dye my hair?” He asks.

“Dye your hair? Yea, I’d love to.” You say casually and he nods fast.

“Great! Let’s go buy some dye, right now.” He says as he grabs your arm to pull you towards the apartment door with him.

“Whoa, wait.” You say fast and stop him. “Why the sudden need for change?” You ask with a soft chuckle as you rub his chest comfortingly. He sighs.

“I’ve got..." He pauses as if it's embarrassing. "A white hair.” He speaks finally.

You hold in your laughter as you watch him. “And... that’s a bad thing?” You tease.

“Y/N..” He sighs as he shakes his head. “You don’t understand.” He tries.

“I don’t understand that the guy I wanna grow old with is growing older and doesn’t want to?” You raise an eyebrow and Jin looks down. You wrap your arms around his waist.

“Babe. You’re still the same charming and sexy and smart and fit man I fell for. A little white hair isn’t changing any of that. You’re growing older. That’s awesome. So am I.” You say. “Besides,” you say and run your fingers through his hair. “You’d make a great silver Fox.” You tease.

He chuckles. “You better be saying that when you have to take out my dentures.” He jokes and you laugh and nod fast.

“Deal.” You smile wide before pecking his lips.

Suga:

‘He honestly looks miserable being with her! Lol’

'OMG, the way he lets her hold his hand with no reaction. I’m 💀’

‘Obvious publicity stunt is OBVIOUS!😂’

Yoongi silently scrolls through the comments of different TikTok edits that showed you and him as boyfriend and girlfriend out in public, and how he reacted to talking about you in his interviews.

He frowns the longer he reads...

He wished he could be more outward with how he felt. Especially since he DOES love you. He just... had a hard time really saying it. But you knew he loved you, right? Or were you also tired of his painfully shy ways? He sighs and lays back on the couch. "Why can't I be... normal?" He whispers quietly to himself before rubbing his face tiredly.

You walk out from the bedroom at that moment and frown as you watch your boyfriend wallow in self-pity.

“Are you coming to bed, or... are you gonna keep me waiting?” You ask finally as you walk over, wanting to lift his mood. Yoongi looks up at you with a frown. It breaks your heart.

“You know I... love you. Right?” He asks softly. You hum and reach down to stroke his hair back.

"I’d hope so. We’ve only been together for a whole year...” You joke.

“I’m serious, Y/N." He mutters and you sigh softly. "I don’t want you thinking because I don’t... show you affection that that means I don’t... love you. I do. I try. I... I just get in my own head-" You cut Yoongi off.

“Where is all this coming from?” You ask as you move on to his lap. He silently hands you the phone, so you see the edits of you being more affectionate to him than he is to you. You roll your eyes at that.

“Baby. I know you’re shy. I knew that the minute you sent Jimin over to say hi to me instead of you...” You tease. “I don’t pay attention to affection or PDA. Cause I know you love me, and you should know I love you. You and all your black cat energy.” You giggle as you tap his nose.

“Black cat energy?” He laughs a bit, scrunching his nose as he tries to act like that didn't make him feel a little better.

"See? You're doing it right now!" You laugh and peck his lips as he blushes a bit at the affection.

J-Hope:

“I think you’re done for the day.” You say happily as you bounce into the dance studio your husband was in. He was STILL practicing the routine even though everyone had left by now.

“Don’t tell me. Namjoon called you?” He rubs his sweaty face. The man looked exhausted, but his own stubborn pride of being the 'dance teacher' of BTS was egging him on to get these moves down.

“Yea. Said you were being stubborn. What else is new?” You joke a bit as you walk closer.

“I can’t leave till I get this down.” He tries as he gets back into position.

“It’s late. You missed dinner. Luckily, if you ask nicely, I can open the kitchen back up when we get home.” You say simply.

“No. Y/N, please. I have to work on this.” He says again, a bit more tense. You stay silent for a moment as you watch him.

“What’s gotten into you?” You ask finally and he sighs deeply.

“I... I just wanna... I wanna be..." He pauses as he looks down.

"Perfect?" You guess and he stays looking down. "Being away for so long... There's new artists now. And I'm happy that new artists are coming up, but-" You cut him off. "But what if ARMY leaves.” You say, understanding. Hobie says nothing.

“Well." You begin as you walk over to him. "You ARE perfect. The DEFINITION of perfection. Baby, you’re gonna drive yourself crazy always focusing on the future...” You state as you move to hold him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“You’re an amazing dancer. And an amazing rapper. But you're more than that. You... Are ARMY's hope." You say before pecking his pouty lips as he rolls his eyes at you playfully.

"You were born to be a performer. And you’ll get this move down. But not without eating and resting...” You say.

He sighs softly and looks down. “Mm... Ok. Fine. Fine, fine, you’re right...” He nods fast and you smile, pleased with yourself.

"Aren't I always?" You tease before kissing him again.

Namjoon:

“You’re all quiet since the interview this morning. Ready to tell me what’s wrong?” You ask as you twirl the noodles along your chopsticks.

“Nothing. Tired.” He says softly and you raise an eyebrow.

“Then look at me." You say and Namjoon pokes at his bowl of food, but makes no attempt to actually look at you.

"Joonie..." You say and he sighs, poking at his noodles some more as he bobs his head around to try and figure out the right words. “Jimin’s story.” He finally says.

“Jimin’s story? You mean him talking about how you broke my glasses a couple of days ago while we were all hanging out? That was funny!" You defend. "What’s the issue with it?” You ask in confusion. It was a simple incident that happened during a drunken game of twister. At a certain point, Namjoon stumbled back and, while trying to catch himself, he grabbed on to the table, not seeing your glasses there. He broke the temple of the glasses from slamming his hand down on it.

“It wasn’t the story. It... was what the interviewer said afterwards. ‘Always breaking things’, ‘Seems like no one’s safe from the curse’. Like I’m just some big doofus.” Namjoon says as he stays looking down, feeling embarrassed.

“You’re MY big doofus...” You try with a smile only to be met with a frown as your boyfriend finally looks up at you. You sigh. “Ok. Hey. Come here...” You say as you motion for your 5-foot 11 baby to get up.

He mumbles under his breath as he gets up and moves over to you. He sit in the chair right next to yours and you sit on his lap with a deep sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“It’s always an accident. But I always get seen as the giant of the group that ruins everything. No wonder people question why I’m the leader...” He mutters.

“That's easy. I know the answer to that. It's... because... you’re smart." You begin as you rock with him swaying with you as well. "And warm. And you’re safe. It's because everyone can be panicking, and you’ll still keep a level head. So, you’re accident prone. Who cares. Look around you, ‘giant’." You tease. "You’re in a home we decorated together, sitting at a table we built together, eating dinner we cooked together just now. And nothing bad happened. It’s not a curse, and you’re not a doofus. Now stop talking crap about yourself. It’s a rule of mine to always defend who I love. Even from themselves. So... watch your mouth.” You smirk and watch as Namjoon slowly smiles a bit before nodding.

“Now. Dig in." You say happily and pull his bowl to him and the chopsticks as well.

"Yes, ma'am.” He says gently before grabbing his chopsticks. He goes to break them apart only to accidentally break them in half.

You cover your mouth to not laugh, and he groans, face palming.

“I love you...” You giggle and he looks up at you with a sheepish smile.

“I love you.” He sighs hopelessly as you get him a new pair of chopsticks.

Jimin:

“Baby? Are you... sleeping?” Jimin whispers as he watches you lay in bed.

“No. Thank your seed for that. Stomach is killing me...” You mutter as you turn to face your husband of two years, but pause when you see tears in his eyes. “Jimin? Baby? What’s wrong?” You whisper as you move to hold him.

“Do you... think I’m... manly enough?” He asks slowly.

“What? Where is that coming from?” You ask in confusion and shock. Jimin has always been strong in his gender identity, feeling both like a man while keeping some femininity to him. You respected this from him and loved him even more for never making you ‘play a part’ in this marriage. You both acted masculine and feminine in multiple ways and found a comfortable balance. Hence why you were now happily three months pregnant.

“It’s... it’s nothing. Maybe I’m just tired. Lots of recording.” He tries fast as he moves to close his eyes.

“Hey." You grab his face tenderly. "Tell me.” You say and he sniffles a bit.

“Us coming forward with the pregnancy. People are... cracking jokes on Twitter about how... they didn’t even know I… had something to get you pregnant with...” He mutters bitterly. You scoff at that and roll your eyes.

“Baby. Look at me..." You say and stroke his cheeks softly. "You are more of a man than any guy I’ve ever met. Wanna know why? Because you don’t need to prove it to anyone. Because you know who you are, and you know what you want. You’re so self-assured and that’s what you’ll reach our child too. And I can’t wait to see who they grow up to be, knowing they’ll have an amazing father like you.” You state.

Jimin blushes and moves to kiss you softly. “I love you...” He smiles as he wipes away a few of your tears. You smile and hug him close. “I love you...” You state.

Taehyung:

“It’s nice to know you’re not just a pretty face.” You mock the interviewer’s comment to your boyfriend who had just finished promoting his new solo project, a jazz album.

“Oh god! I'm PISSED! Who is that guy to-“ Taehyung cuts you off.

“Baby, breathe..." He chuckles. "I’m used to it. Really. It’s not a big deal. Don’t let that ruin the rest of our night.” He tries as you guys get into the back of the black SUV that would be taking you guys back to your hotel room.

“No, Tae. It does bother me. And it should bother you too. You’re so fucking talented, and all anyone likes to point out is your looks?! Hell no. That’s where I draw the line. You deserve more respect. I think after all this time of you working nonstop, you’ve earned it.” You say before realizing you're ranting. You sigh and gently grab his hand.

“You’re more than what they want you to be...” You state and he looks down, the laid back, 'I don't care' image finally falling. He nods slowly, shoulders slumping.

“Thank you, baby. For getting all... fired up for me.” He chuckles a bit and you kiss his cheek.

“That’s what I’m here for.” You shrug playfully.

Jungkook:

“Hey, baby. How was the live?” You ask as you look up from your magazine.

Jungkook sighs deeply as he tiredly walks over to you and lays on the bed.

“Sad. Really sad. I had to tell the fans something.” He mutters, and you pause, setting down your reading for the night and patting your lap. He lays his head in your lap, and you play with his hair.

“What was it now?” You ask tiredly. Jungkook was always so mindful of ARMY, but it was hard on him too. He wanted to please everyone...

“They think I’m depressed! Or... an alcoholic? I don’t know. I told them it’s one thing to worry about me, but to just throw out those accusations out there like that, it hurts!” He says and you nod, letting him just vent. “Namjoon was right. ARMY’s changed...” He mutters.

“Mm... I don’t think so. ARMY... those fans who really love you... they’ve gotten older, yeah. But they haven’t changed. It’s the other fans. The ones who are so used to toxicity that they can’t help but drag it along with them wherever they go. But that’s not ‘ARMY’. ARMY, real ARMY? They love you guys. Just the way you are. You're doing the best you can. You've gotta stop putting so much pressure on yourself.” You state as you comfort him as best you can. He smiles sadly and sighs deeply.

“Thank you, baby. You always know how to get me relaxed.” He nods before pecking his lips up to you. You giggle and lean down, kissing him tenderly.

#kim namjoon #kim seokjin #kim taehyung #min yoogni #park jimin #jung hoseok #jeon jungkook #namjoon #namjoon imagine #jin #jin imagine #taehyung #taehyung imagine #j hope #j hope imagine #jimin #jimin imagine #yoongi #suga #bts suga #rm bts #rm imagine #bts fic #bts #suga x reader #jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader

[champagneher]

— STEP BACK | JUNG HOSEOK

BASED ON | how dare she come back and try to steal your man? GENRE | f!reader x idol!hoseok, established relationship. WARNINGS | jealousy, swear words. I got the photos from the internet - pinterest - please let me know if they are yours, so I can give you credit for them or remove them.

It was annoying.

You were annoyed.

You knew the backstory of them, of course you knew.

You and Hoseok have been friends for so long that you share those memories from your teenage years on your movie nights where you discussed and analyzed the life of the others. Hoseok was in love with her for years, so he was absolutely over the moon when she accepted to date him, only for him to be played for months, leaving that beautiful young Hobi heartbroken. Still, after that, she knew the power she held, so she kept on using him. Not to mention, when BTS started to gain popularity, she used him on her favor.

When you met him in 2017, she was still around, but this time Hoseok wasn't in love anymore, he, like always, was just kind and kept helping her whenever she needed something. After all, she was like a childhood friend.

You could give yourself credit in saying that it was you who made him realize that people like her didn't deserve to be in his circle, not even close, but you shared the credit with the members and his sister. Finally, when she was out of the picture, everything was like a jigsaw puzzle.

Hoseok was making it in music, he had his friends with him and he had you. For a long time, he didn't know who to trust, a consequence of the insecurities she left him with, but with you, it was different. He could talk about anything without fear of being judged, he could share his thoughts and ideas. Discuss lyrics or rhythms, and be listened to attentively. Tease and tell absurd jokes and still be taken seriously. Be the sweetest, most loving person on the planet, but still be just Hoseok with you. His serious and professional side, whenever he came out, was not feared by you, but admired. And simply, he felt loved.

You had your things too. Your friends used to joke about how loneliness and singleness were your best friends, how you were allergic to love. Of course, it started to change when you slowly fell in love with him.

It was almost like falling asleep.

One moment he was your best friend and the next you were fucked up because you couldn't stop thinking and imagining what it would be like to wake up next to him.

Accepting your feelings for each other was a bit of a long road, but here you were. In a serious, almost three-years relationship where you both saw a future together.

You liked to protect what was yours, so you were always protective of him, and your territorial side came out quite often when you recognized people who had other intentions with Hoseok. He, being the love that he is, always assured you that he only had eyes for you and only you.

With the holidays around the corner, both of you were invited to different events of your friends and family. Today, both of you decided to attend the winter party of an important and close uncle of Hoseok's family.

You were quietly immersed in a gossipy chat with Jiwoo - Hoseok's sister and your sister-in-law - when you noticed her let out a sigh and roll her eyes.

"Why the change of mood?" You asked teasingly, taking a sip of your drink.

"Oh, don't laugh, you won't be happy either." She assured you, taking a sip of her champagne. You looked at her confused, and then she indicated with her head behind you.

"Oh."

Yes. Oh.

She was here.

Obviously, you couldn't forbid or comment to anyone that it bothered you to simply hear from her, but you also had to accept the fact that after all, her family and your boyfriend's family had known each other for quite some time, so the "maybe" of running into her at some event or gathering was always going to be there.

"You don't have to worry," Jiwoo spoke to you, capturing your attention again. "She's no one in our lives anymore, but my uncle always wants to look good with her family, so I'm not surprised to see her here."

"No, I know." You nodded, looking around for Hoseok who was talking to two of his friends. "It's just… whenever I see her I remember the Hobi from before and I don't want him to feel that way anymore."

Jiwoo smiled at you and let out a chuckle. "You're the girl of his dreams, ____. I can assure you that he wouldn't change you for anyone in the world. Besides, if he does, I'll be the first to kill him, followed by my mother, of course."

"I'm counting on it." You laughed with her and were slightly elated when you felt a hand being placed on your waist and then a kiss being placed on your forehead when you looked to your side.

"My girls. What are you talking about? Still commenting on the gossip of the week?" Hoseok brought your body closer to his in a gentle way that felt so natural to him. Joining in the chatter, he couldn't help but joke about your close bond that you both shared and made him so happy.

"Oh hush, Hobi. You know you're the first to ask about everything we talk about later."

"Me?" Faking surprise, he jokingly pointed at himself and brushed it off with his hand. "I don't do that."

"The lies that come out of your mouth, mum won't be happy." Jiwoo looked at him accusingly, laughing with you.

"My girlfriend here won't let me lie, right, baby?" He turned his head to look at you and pouted his lips.

You brought your right hand to his hand that was on your waist and intertwined your fingers with his. "Don't make me lie to your sister like that, please."

Hoseok gasped almost so loudly that Jiwoo had to cover her face with her hands to hide her embarrassed laughter for her brother. You, meanwhile, were enjoying this moment.

Time passed, the person you didn't want around took a back seat and you focused on having a good time with your boyfriend and his family.

"Ah, talking so much made me thirsty." Hoseok said with a huge smile, shaking his head.

"Right? It's them and their gossip." His brother-in-law supported him by putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Well, if it bothers you so much, you should have said something! Besides, we give you fashion tips too. I don't know why you complain so much." Jiwoo exclaimed, looking at her husband with a raised eyebrow as her gaze was defiant.

"I could never shut you up, love," he began to defend himself.

"God, why don't you go get us something to drink? It's been like 20 minutes since my champagne ran out." You said.

"Yeah, yeah, come on," Hoseok said to his brother-in-law, placed a kiss on the crown of your head and dragged him almost to the drinking place.

"Men…" You and Jiwoo almost let out a laugh as you both said the same thing at the same time, both rolling your eyes.

"I'll never understand how they get to know all that," Hoseok spoke almost surprised at the long talk the four of them had, changing the subject but mostly talking about gossip and fashion tips.

"If Jiwoo wasn't my wife, I'd be a little freaked out that she knows who I had dinner with three weeks ago."

"I don't even remember what I ate yesterday."

"Well, hello," a voice behind her spoke, cutting off the small waiting chat the two men were having, causing them to turn and see who it came from. "It's been a long time. How are you?"

"Oh… Myeong."

"Hello," Hoseok's brother-in-law, in comparison to him, reacted quickly by giving a slight wave, bowing his head quickly, so he could keep looking the other way.

Clearly, it could be seen how both had tensed slightly, knowing who Myeong really was. Still, even though Hoseok had all feelings for her in the past - and very well forgotten - he felt he had to have some sort of respect for her. After all, the two of them had been through a lot together, she was his elder, and after all, it wasn't in his nature to be mean to anyone.

"How have you been, Hobi?" Myeong asked, looking to draw chatter from somewhere. Her hair pulled back managed to bring out her cheeks and big eyes to perfection. She was very beautiful, yet she was nothing more than a pretty face to him and everyone around her.

"Fine, thank you very much," he replied cordially. "And you? How has your family been?"

"They are fine, I think you did greet them." She responded with a seductive smile, and Hoseok quickly regretted asking. "I love that you still care about them."

"Well, they are very good people, their donation to-"

"They have a lot of love and respect for you," her right hand rested on his right arm gently. The conversation had taken a path that gave her a chance to check if she could still hold him in her hand as she remembered. "It made me remember how a couple of years ago you stumbled in front of them and couldn't look at them in the eye for weeks. We had some good times afterward, though, didn't we?"

"I already have the drinks, though I need you to bring yours and ____'s," Hoseok released the air he was holding in his lungs and turned to look at his brother-in-law quickly smiling gratefully. He wanted to escape from there. He had forgotten how Myeong could make him uncomfortable and feel so little in just a few seconds. In those moments he wanted to return to his safe place by your side, to hold your hand and not let go until you got home where he would hold you and if you let him he would make love to you all night long. Feeling that security and love that you gave him was what kept him alive, and he really needed it now.

Remembering what he once talked about with his psychologist, he knew that bad memories could come back quickly -even if he didn't expect it- with the right person at the wrong time or in the wrong place.

"She's your date tonight, isn't she? I've heard a thing or two…" Myeong commented, ignoring the other man, fixing her eyes on Hoseok who clearly didn't know where to look. Twisting her smile, she could tell he still didn't know what to do as he stood in front of her. She thought she still had him in the palm of her hand.

"Actually, she's his girlfriend."

"We have some catching up to do." She interrupted him, making her grip on his arm tighter. "My cousin is here, she's a big fan!"

"Where are you going?" Hoseok asked nervously watching as his companion walked quickly away from him.

"He's just giving us space, don't worry." Myeong smiled and shrugged slightly dismissively. "As I was telling you, she is a fan, and she would love to meet you."

"Uh…"

"What do you say? She's here with her boyfriend, which if you ask me, honestly she could do better, but I don't judge her, he has a company so…"

"Myeong, thank you for your words, but I'm here with my girlfriend and my sister who are-"

"Jiwoo is here?! How beautiful, I'm going to give her a call. We should all go out for dinner together.

Reminisce about old times."

"I wouldn't feel very comfortable with that."

"Why?" Her tone of voice changed to a whimsical one, she pouted her lips, giving the best puppy face she could.

Well, of course you were watching the whole interaction flash before your eyes since she approached them. You watched as she observed him, biting her lips for a few seconds, then adjusting her dress and walking towards them, you witnessed as she deliberately and shamelessly placed her hand on your boyfriend, you also saw how Jiwoo was two seconds away from going to drag his brother out of that conversation. When Jiwoo saw her husband walk - almost run - towards you, she gave you a look that you understood immediately.

She was making a move on your boyfriend, and you wanted to mentally prepare yourself to go there first.

Your insecurities soon surfaced. Knowing Hoseok you knew he wouldn't push her away, instead he would be cordial and try to make conversation and then retreat. But obviously when you took a good look at her, and saw how truly beautiful she was, it was as if your feet froze to the ground and all you could do was watch the scene unfold with a cold stare. Your heart almost broke as you noticed how Hoseok became incredibly uncomfortable and nervous after a few seconds. You almost mentally beat yourself up for not going immediately, but you were afraid at first that he really wanted to talk to her.

Clearly, Hoseok was on another level, behaving respectfully and not shutting her up like he should. It was time for you to step forward.

"Good because-"

"You can't still be holding on to the past, can you? Hobi I thought we had put all that behind us…" repeating her same technique, her right hand this time slid lower to this time grab his hand with hers and swing it from right to left playfully.

"Myeong…" Hoseok let out an airy laugh, gently removing her hand from his, "I think you should-"

"Step back?" You added, smiling, appearing from the side.

In Hoseok's eyes you could see the relief come over him, and he could breathe normally again, but with Myeong, you noticed his gaze turn to a defiant one.

"Oh, you must be-"

"____, Hoseok's girlfriend, yes." You interrupted her by giving her the most fake smile you had. Leaving aside that she was deliberately flirting with your boyfriend in front of everyone, what made you angry is the bad situation she was putting him in. You could tolerate people flirting, asking him out on dates, or even hinting at other things, but you weren't going to tolerate them treating him badly or putting him through a bad time.

Myeong rolled her eyes without even trying to hide it and let out a heavy sigh as if she wanted to downplay you. "Anyway, I'm talking to my friend here. So I'd appreciate it if you would step back and give us some space."

"Oh, I don't think so," no matter how much you wanted to spit in her face, your mask of feigning calm never left your face. You didn't want to cause a scene, and you weren't going to. "I actually came to see what was taking my boyfriend so long around here," this time you gave Hoseok a sincere smile by moving closer to him, which he reciprocated by placing his hand on your waist. "We were just having a family chat, which we want to continue in a more… pleasant place." You said the last, giving her a look that reflected a little of the displeasure you now held. Just a little.

"Do you want to go home, love?" Hoseok spoke for the first time since you arrived, bringing his lips closer to your forehead to leave a light kiss.

You could hear Myeong sneering at Hoseok's sweet action.

"Please." You answered smiling.

"But Hobi, we were just catching up," Myeong tried to interfere, and went to want to grab his arm again, to which Hoseok this time was the one who stepped back and held your waist more securely.

"It was nice to greet you, Myeong. Say hello to your parents and have a good night. If you'll excuse me, I have to take my girlfriend to our home."

Hoseok smiled and began to walk with a firm step and with you holding on to your waist. You both went to where his sister and brother-in-law were waiting for you.

"I'm calm, I swear I am, but I can't stand her." Jiwoo said with clenched jaw.

"Thanks guys, I guess we'll go home now," Hoseok said, smiling kindly at both of them. "It was a long night, if you want you can come for dinner tomorrow," he offered calmly and looking at his sister fondly.

"Oh, of course, brother."

"We'll bring dessert."

"Fantastic," you smiled at the couple. After exchanging your goodbyes, you went to your boyfriend's parents where they also said goodbye and then went to the parking lot.

Before you reached the car, you couldn't help but stop your steps to face your boyfriend.

"I'm really proud of you, you know?"

"Mmh?" His eyes went wide and confusion took over his features. "Of me?" He pointed at himself.

"Yeah, of you." You laughed at his reaction.

"Why?" He asked, smiling and leaning closer to you.

"You handled that situation like a champ. I know it wasn't the best conversation you could have all night, but, I'm proud. That's all."

Hoseok's chest filled with immeasurable warmth as he felt a shiver run down his spine. He was completely, head over heels in love with you, and he knew that the ring waiting for him, hidden in his wardrobe, confirmed it. Taking your hand in his, he brought you close and began to move slowly, as if you were dancing to a soft melody.

Used to dancing to anything with him at anytime, you just followed him and enjoyed having him so close to you.

He softly kissed your lips for a few moments, bringing his right hand to your cheek while his left went to your waist to fully attach your body to his.

"I love you."

"I love you too." You smiled.

"I love you more."

"Okay, but the next time someone else calls you Hobi besides me, I swear I won't keep my cool like I did today."

Hoseok couldn't help but let out a laugh and clapped at your comment. You just let out a chuckle and looked around to see if anyone else was around.

"Let's go home, shall we?"

"Let's go, love."

i could't put a name on jiwoo's husband i feel terrible. guess he's just brother in law for now. anyways, thank you for reading, let me know what you think!

#bts #bts hoseok #hoseok x reader #hoseok smut #hoseok #bts jhope #j hope x you #j hope #j hope x reader #hobi #j hope imagine #bts scenarios #bts writing #bts fic #bts angst #bts drabble #bts drabbles #bts au #bangtan #bts edits #fanfics #fan fic #namjoon fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook #jungkook fanfic

[btsmosphere]

Hoseok.

He says he can’t *actually* fly, but no one is too sure how much they believe him. His incredible athletic abilities, well beyond the normal for a human, seemingly have no limit. Luckily, he rarely turns them to deadly uses – just don’t ask how he became this way...

<prev | Supercharged Masterlist Here | next>

#j hope aesthetic #jung hoseok aesthetic #hoseok moodboard #j hope mafia #j hope imagine #j hope au #bts mafia au #supercharged #jungkook series #bts series #superhero bts #superhero jung hoseok #villain jung hoseok #j hope villain aesthetic #hoseok au #j hope moodboard

[likeastarstar]

1:02 AM - Hoseok

You knew this guy.

He lived across from you, used to be all colorful and vibrant. He was always smiling and dancing and singing- he was a bit annoying actually.

You weren't really the most sunshiney person yourself actually, more of a black cat instead. People weren't interesting and you couldn't find yourself trying to relate to most men, let alone this one with his obnoxious laugh and constant need to have people over at his apartment.

There was this one time he practically broke into your apartment while you were clothed in nothing but a small towel on your way out of the shower- okay, granted, he had barged in because he heard your scream and thought something had happened to you- but it wasn't any of his business anyway!

It was embarrassing enough that you had let out a blood curdling scream all because of a cockroach, let alone that someone caught you at your worst. You forced him to kill the bug and shoved him out the door, your hair so wet it flung droplets of water onto his shirt and seeped through the material, making it stick to his chest and reveal-

Huh, maybe he's a little interesting at all.

You eyes barely lingered on the piercing pushing through sheer white material over his pec and you tilted your head, making eye contact with him for a brief moment before regaining the shield of annoyance you always wore and slammed the door in his face.

Ever since then, you've hated that guy so much you look for him just to glare at him, stare at his front door just a little bit longer when you walk out of your place just to make sure he stays in there. You rolled your eyes at him when he was in the elevator at the same time as you, flipped him off when you crossed paths at the grocery store one time.

Now, you make sure to go at that very same time every week just to get another chance to see him tell him off.

Except for now you never see him at all.

There was mail collecting in front of his door and flooding the mailbox and you never ran into him at all.

"Did that tool move? The one in apartment 924? The one who's always smiling? Brown hair, wide set eyes- he's kind of...like noodley?"

"Noodley?" The man at the front desk asked, raising his eyes, "You mean Hobi?"

"What kind of a name is Hobi?" You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"Well, his real name is Hoseok."

Hoseok.

You felt your heart thud and your hands tingle, taking a step back as your eyes widened slightly. Hoseok. That was...that was a good name.

You wanted to wrap your tongue around it, push the sound from side to side in your mouth and chew up the syllables. You breathed it out, allowing yourself to whisper his name just once, just quietly.

"Yeah, that asshole- is he gone? I mean, did he move or something?" You repeated.

"No, not that I'm aware of. Next time I see him, do you want me to mention that you asked about him?"

"Do you want me to move?" You asked sarcastically, "No, absolutely not. Don't say jack shit."

You frowned and went back up to your apartment, wondering if you could let yourself say his name just one more time.

The next time you saw him, his hair was white and he looked tired, lugging a black duffle on his shoulder with a pissed off look on his face. You were stumbling on your way back from a club, slightly drunk but not drunk enough to forget that you absolutely had to order food right this minute, shuffling into the elevator staring at a menu on your phone.

You were staring so hard that you didn't realize anyone else was in the elevator, bumping directly into Hobi's chest when you walked in.

He grunted, looking down at you with a frown and an expression that said 'what is wrong with you?'.

You let out a squeak of surprise and backed up, eyes wide as your ass hit the wall opposite to him, staring at his appearance. You hadn't ever seen his hair like this- all short and spiked up and he was exhausted and annoyed by you and it was sexy.

"You're forgetting something," He grumbled quietly, cutting through the silence between you two with a voice barely louder than a whisper, deep in tone and gravelly with sleep.

Maybe it's because you were drunk, but it made you squeeze your thighs a little closer together.

You frowned and tilted your head, too focused on the adam's apple bobbing against his throat to respond verbally. Silently, Hobi picked up a manicured hand- black nail polish, sexy. Sexy- sexy- and flipped you off, his long middle finger paired with a bored expression on his face.

Your mouth fell open and the elevator dinged perfectly on time.

"Have a good night, nice dress." Hoseok said with a smirk, leaving you alone in the elevator without so much as a word.

You saw him more after that but something had shifted. He wasn't smiling as much, keeping to himself or always glued to his phone and a large pair of headphones that warded off any attempt at conversation.

Not that you'd attempt to talk to him either way- you weren't friendly, you hated him, remember?

It didn't make a difference to you until one day it did and the two of you were the only ones in the mail room, rifling through your three bills while he had about thirty unopened packages and a million more letters in his hand. He seemed annoyed by it all, shoving his headphones off of his head and driving a fist into his now jet black, short cropped hair. You eyed the way it stuck up straight and matted down in other spots where the strap of the headphones had been sitting, wondering what on earth he was always listening to.

You stared at him long enough for Hoseok to notice, a steely eyed look meeting yours out of the corner of his eyes, "You need something?"

"You're wearing black."

He frowned, staring down at the black painter style jumpsuit he had on, "Okay?"

"What's wrong with you?" You barked, frowning at him.

"Am I not allowed to wear black?" He asked, tilting his head in a confused way. He looked at you for the first time in awhile and you watched his eyes widen, wondering what that meant.

"You're wearing black and you don't do that annoying smile anymore and you dyed your hair. It's back to normal now but it's dirty and you're wearing black. You don't even try to make Mrs. Choi on the fourth floor laugh anymore when you see her and you're wearing black- what's wrong with you?" You ranted, pouting stubbornly.

Hoseok's face screwed up in frustration, hands balling into fists before he cursed under his breath, falling into an exhausted puddle on the ground. He sat amongst his piles of mail with his head between his knees, groaning in annoyance.

Oops.

"I'm fucking tired- I've been working on something and I don't have the time to focus on anything else." He said quietly, "I'm just tired."

"You're so dramatic," You laughed, taking a step closer to him, "Get over it, Hobi. It's just work, don't be such a cog. Take a break, find something to distract you."

"You really don't get it," He grumbled, shaking his head. He froze, peering up at you with a curious expression before rising to his full height.

He was a significant amount taller than you and you hadn't realized how close he was so when he stood, you gasped audibly, taken aback by how intimidating he was up close. Hoseok's eyes were trained on you, narrowed slightly in suspicion. You noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the smoothness of his skin, wanting to reach out and touch him- just to see what it would be like.

"I thought you hated me but now you seem to know all about me- I don't even know yours and yet you're calling me by my nickname, no honorifics, no manners?" He asked.

You wondered how his voice could be so soft and yet be the only thing worth focusing on, the tone of it making you lean in and want to listen to him all the time.

"Well, barging into other people's apartments when they're naked doesn't exactly scream mr.manners either," You pointed out, taking a step back.

Hoseok smiled for the first time in months and you felt pride blossom in your chest. He took you in for a moment before sighing, "You definitely weren't naked- I'd remember that."

You blushed and forced yourself to look away from him, gathering your mail before rushing past him, "Yeah, well- whatever, just stop being so emo, Mrs. Choi needs a friend or whatever."

"Mrs. Choi said that, huh?" Hobi smirked, watching you avoid eye contact with him.

You flipped him off and his laugh boomed off the walls, staying with you long after you had returned back to your apartment.

You went through the rest of your evening, unable to shake the very annoying, incessant, incredibly frustrating boy off your mind.

You showered wondering if whether you screamed right now, Hoseok would come bounding in again. You brushed your teeth wondering what his lips felt like, stared at your reflection and wondered why his eyes got so wide when he looked at you earlier.

More importantly, what did he do for work that had him so stressed?

You thought he was a dancer or something- that's what Mrs. Choi had told you at least. Not that you asked, she just talked a lot and the elevator was so slow sometimes.

But anyway, she told you that he was a dancer, that's why he was always getting noise complaints and was up at odd hours. You wondered what kind of dancing he was doing, whether it was something stupid like ballet or something. You snorted, imagining him in tights and pointe shoes until you got to his thighs suddenly it wasn't so stupid anymore.

"Damn," You mumbled to yourself, wondering if Mrs. Choi could get you a video of him dancing or something.

You dressed yourself quickly, pulling a large shirt over your head and foregoing panties because....you were looking for your vibrator instead. You cursed your own hormones, wishing you weren't so damn turned on by that stupid fucking sunshine boy who isn't so sunshiny anymore- this wouldn't have happened if he wasn't going through an emo phase.

"Where the hell is it?" You mumbled to yourself, hunting in your bedside table.

You dove underneath your bed, hunting in the random pile of junk shoved under there until there was a knock at your front door. You squeaked in surprise, the top of your head hitting the bed frame. You winced and hurried to answer the door.

You swung it open, still clutching the top of your head. Hoseok appeared, without his headphones for the first time in months and a shiny smile back on his face. You felt your cheeks redden and immediately remembered that you didn't have anything but a shirt on- shrieking immediately.

"What?" Hoseok screamed back, looking behind him wildly with a fearful look on his face.

"I don't- Uh, nothing," You stammered, thinking maybe your shirt was big enough to hide your indecency. "W-What are you doing? Here, I mean- What are you doing here?"

"Sorry, I know it's late, were you asleep?" He asked, taking in your appearance and stopping at the top of your thighs. His lips parted, falling open in a cute little heart shape that you'd be able to better admire if you weren't so focused on the violent horniness coursing through your body.

You squeezed your legs together, hoping he wouldn't notice, "I wasn't asleep- what are you doing here?"

Hoseok tilted his head over and looked at you, eye contact so consistent it intimidated the shit out of you.

"I'm, uh," He said awkwardly, a slow smile growing on his face, "I'm trying to take someone's advice. You know, stop being a cog, find something to distract myself."

"Sounds like good advice," You nodded, "So what'd you find to distract you?"

He grinned, stepping towards you. You leaned in instinctively, scanning his face carefully. He smirked, humming lightly in a way that reminded you of a cat.

"You."

to be continued...?

masterlist.

#bts drabble #bts timestamps #bts fic #bts smut #hoseok drabble #hoseok fic #jung hoseok fanfiction #hoseok x you #hoseok x y/n #hoseok x oc #hoseok x reader #j hope headcanon #j hope imagine #j hope x you #j hope x reader #j hope fanfic

[taetaespeaches]

“You were so pleasant when we first met.”

hoseok x reader (oc) genre: fluff word count: 4.4K

a/n: Hi lovelies! Petal/reader is meeting Hobi’s family for the first time in this and she’s a bit uncharacteristically anxious. And Hobi is honestly the sweetest. This could serve as a part 3 or a resolution to “You’re a shitty liar” in which Petal finds out Hobi has been hiding her from his family for 6 months. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading! :))

“Are we sure it’s not too soon?” You asked your boyfriend, picking at your cuticles as you avoided eye contact with him. He was seated on the sofa a few feet away as you stood at the edge of the room.

You were met with silence for a few seconds before a sigh met your ears, the man discarding the phone from his hands and setting it on the couch cushion next to him. He had been interacting with fans, but your expression of doubt had gained his full attention. “You know they genuinely want to meet you, right? I want you to meet each other.”

Your anxiety getting the better of you, you added in chewing the inside of your cheek to the nervous habits you exhibited as you nodded. “I know, it’s just-” Shrugging at him and scrunching your nose, you lifted your gaze to finally meet his considerate and concerned one.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized suddenly, shaking his head as though he was disappointed. Pulling your eyebrows together in question, you waited for him to elaborate. “I can’t help but feel this is my fault, Petal.”

“Hm?”

“With me not telling them about you for so long, I just, I don’t know, I feel like I gave you an anxiety you wouldn’t have had otherwise,” he tsked at himself, twitching his head to the side as he directed his eyes to the ground. With a huff, he looked back up at you to see you staring at him thoughtfully. “It should have been easy for you to meet them, but I fucked that up.”

“No you didn’t, I would have been nervous regardless,” you defended him. However, he wasn’t totally wrong, as much as you hated to admit that. Of course it was always nerve wracking meeting your significant other’s parents, no matter the circumstance, but it did get scarier when you found out you were kept a secret for six months. The people raised Hoseok and he adored them, so you had no doubt that they would be incredibly kind and welcoming to you. But you still couldn’t help but worry that they’d be scrutinizing you with a magnifying glass as they searched for reasons as to why you would be kept hidden for months. You knew it wasn’t like that, Hoseok only keeping you secret because he simply didn’t want his parents to think he was taking their sacrifices for his career for granted. However, the doubt in yourself still lingered in the very back of your mind. The idea of being picked apart in search of faults by people you really wanted acceptance from was unsettling to say the least.

Suddenly the man was standing in front of you, breaking you out of your thoughts as his hands reached out for yours. “Petal,” he spoke gently, pulling your hands apart to stop you from shredding your cuticles. You hadn’t even realized you were still picking at them. Intertwining his fingers with your own, he caught your gaze, holding it as he talked to you. “You’ve always been so sure of yourself, ever since I’ve known you, even back when you couldn’t stand me,” he smiled, you chuckling slightly at the memories. “I can’t help but think I put this little seed of doubt in your mind.”

“I’m gonna be fine,” you assured him. “You’re important to me, so it’s just scary meeting the people who raised you.” When he looked at you skeptically, you rolled your eyes. “I’m serious, stop blaming yourself. I’m just nervous.”

“Even my tough girl gets nervous sometimes, huh?” He cooed at you, making you sigh in feigned annoyance.

Through a small pout, you admitted the insecurity that rarely existed but made its appearance every now and then. “I want to impress them and I know I don’t always make the best first impression, as you know.”

Widening his eyes in feigned shock, he dramatically shook his head at you. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, you were so pleasant when we first met.” Laughing, you used the back of his own hand that was wrapped up with yours to gently hit him on his hip. You were horribly unpleasant your first time meeting Hoseok, along with the few times after that, and if it hadn’t been for his persistence, patience, and generosity with his kindness and understanding, you wouldn’t be hand in hand with him inside your apartment that very moment. “You were very intriguing, I have no complaints.”

“I just worry about small talk and all that for a whole dinner, I’m not great in those kinds of situations. And your family is so bright and communicative, I just don’t want them to think I’m cold and uninterested in them.” Sitting at a dinner with damn near strangers was pretty much your nightmare. You typically needed five to ten business days with a person before you started warming up to them enough to show that you actually did have a personality and you weren’t aloof and stuck up like your face and demeanor tried to introduce you as.

Hoseok’s expression became serious as he searched your features. “They will love you,” he assured you. “Your parents love me.”

“You’re so easy to love, Sunshine,” you groaned, the man smiling as you bit back a grin of your own.

“So are you,” he told you, and he said it so earnestly that you couldn’t even argue it.

“Ok, but what if they think we’re not compatible because you’re so openly bright and I’m this cold little witch?” you proposed, half joking, though your boyfriend could sense the seriousness behind the comment.

“Witch?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “First of all, you’re not cold and I love your personality. I always have. And second of all, I don’t care if they think we’re compatible or not because I know we are.” Humming at him, you nodded slowly. He made valid points, damn him. “Listen to me,” he started, his voice slightly stern. Letting out a small sigh, you stared into his eyes as he flashed you a stunning and comforting smile. “I love you, and they’ll love you, because there’s nothing not to love. You’re great, it would be impossible for them not to see that.”

Biting back the smile that was threatening to spread across your face, you chose to roll your eyes instead. Groaning at you, Hoseok wrapped his arms around the back of your head pulling you against his body as he pressed kisses across your face, despite your half-assed attempt to squirm away. You didn’t really want to go anywhere that was even two inches from the man, but you didn’t want him to know that. “Tell me that my parents are gonna love you,” he insisted, looking down at your features as he held you close. Whining in his arms, he giggled at you. “Say it.”

“Your parents are gonna love me,” you groaned, Hoseok only laughing further in content and victory.

“And why are they gonna love you?”

“Oh jesus,” you dismissed, trying to pull out of his hold, placing your hands to his waist and attempting to shove away from him. His arms stayed firm around you however as he pressed more kisses to your forehead.

“Say it!” He demanded cheerfully.

“Because I’m great,” you groaned.

“Damn right you are,” he immediately agreed with a proud grin, letting you push him off of you.

“You’re so obnoxious,” you lightly giggled, not taking any steps away from the man.

“I know,” he beamed, watching as you stayed firmly in place, noticing how you didn’t put any space between you both. “Want another hug?”

Without answering him, you rolled your eyes once more before reaching out to grasp the oversized hoodie at his abdomen, tugging him to you. Giggles slipped from his mouth, ringing beautifully in your ears as he wrapped his arms around the back of your head again, yours snaking their way around his waist. “I love you,” you mumbled against his shoulder.

Hoseok’s lips met the top of your head in response. “I love you too. So much,” he whispered into your hair. “And so will my parents,” he added teasingly, eliciting an immediate groan from you. “Because you’re great.” He was so annoying, but beyond sweet. And you appreciated him more than he would ever fully comprehend.

Stuffing cold kimchi rice into bowls for you and Hoseok, music playing from his phone, you hummed along to the tune. “Hey is the studio you do pottery at open tonight?” He asked out of the blue, confusion setting into your features.

“Um, no,” you answered. “They close early on Tuesdays.”

“But you have a key right? They let you go in whenever you want?” He questioned you, making you slightly suspicious as you glanced at him.

“Yeah,” you confirmed skeptically. He hummed in response, making you raise your eyebrows expectantly. “Why?”

“We should go.”

Scrunching your eyebrows together, you looked at him in confusion. “We have dinner with your parents tonight.”

“Exactly. Don’t you think you’d rather do pottery instead of a stuffy dinner?”

“Wait,” you halted your movements, holding a full bowl of food as you stared at him curiously. “Are you saying we should do pottery with your parents? Instead of dinner?”

“Yeah,” he grinned, taking the bowl out of your hands and placing it in front of him, preparing to dig in.

Opening your mouth to respond, you closed it again, cocking your head at him. “I- but- would they even like that?”

“I think so,” he nodded sincerely at you. “Plus, your opinion matters too and I just had a feeling you’d rather do something like that instead of a dinner.”

“Hobi,” you sighed. “I don’t want to make your parents do something just for me, their comfort matters more than mine.”

“It definitely does not matter more than yours, and also, like I said, I think they’d enjoy it.” He ate some rice, chewing on it for a moment before continuing to speak with his hand covering his mouth. “I’m not just talking out of my ass, I told my mom a couple weeks ago that you do pottery and she was super interested in it. Said she always wanted to try it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, my dad too, actually,” he said just before shoving another spoonful of rice into his mouth. Grinning at you around the bite, you chuckled lightly, shaking your head.

“So you’re saying I could teach them a little something?” The man nodded enthusiastically. “Okay,” you agreed tentatively. “If you’re one hundred percent sure that they would be good with it. Actually, one hundred and fifty percent sure,” you corrected as Hoseok swallowed the food.

“I’m sure,” he assured. “I promise.”  

It felt as though a weight had been lifted from your shoulders, along with some of the doubt that had taken residency in your mind. Staring at Hoseok as he ate, you couldn’t help the smile that formed on your lips. When his gaze met your own, he mimicked the expression, his eyes narrowing in question. “What?”

“I just can’t believe you,” you told him, staring at him in utter appreciation.

“In a good way or-?”

“Yes,” you breathily giggled. “You’re amazing.”

He simply smiled in response as he continued eating his rice. And your heart was full of gratitude for one Mr. Jung Hoseok.

“So you’re bringing them here, right? I’m not in the completely wrong place, am I?” You asked your boyfriend through the phone as you trudged around the pottery studio, gathering supplies and laying them all out. You had agreed earlier that he would pick his parents up and bring them to the studio where you would be waiting, but your nerves had you second guessing everything.

“Yes, they’re in the car right now,” he chuckled, heat rushing through your body in embarrassment. “We’ll be there in less than five minutes.”

“Oh,” you commented tentatively, unsure whether you were on speaker or not. “Ok, good.”

“You’re not on speaker,” he chuckled as he answered your un-asked question, drawing an immediate groan from you.

“Hoseok.”

Laughing at you, you could picture the warm smile on his face. He’s lucky he’s adorable, you thought. “See you soon, Petal.”

“Ok, tell them hi for me. Or- I don’t know, I’ll see you soon,” you groaned once more.

“I love you,” he cooed through the phone’s speaker. You could have cringed at the affectionate words being tossed around so blatantly in front of your boyfriend’s parents, but instead you found yourself smiling softly as your heart pounded inside your chest in fond appreciation.

“Love you, too,” you smiled just before hanging up.

Less than five minutes. Fuck.

It was rare for you to care so much about what someone thought of you, and it wasn’t a feeling you were all too fond of. You liked being sure of yourself, not caring if someone found you to be cold or aloof. You knew who you were, you didn’t need anyone else’s opinion of you, and quite frankly, how someone else thought of you was none of your business. These people weren’t just anyone though. They were Hoseok’s parents, the people who raised him, who loved and supported him his whole life, the people you wanted desperately to accept you as family.

And they were minutes away from finally meeting you after over half a year of dating their son; the secret girlfriend. You were minutes away from their first impression of you dictating the trajectory of your relationship with them. All you wanted from this evening was for them to see you as worthy of their son’s love and affection.

Sighing to yourself, you looked over the supplies, ensuring each pottery wheel had buckets of water, sponges, ribs, wire cutters, aprons, and towels. You had already wedged the clay for them so there would be no air bubbles that destroyed their pieces. Everything was set up perfectly, but setting up pottery stations wouldn’t make you appear impressive to them.

When the sound of a car pulling up out front met your ears, your eyes immediately fell on the familiar vehicle. Fuck. Hoseok was the first out, looking over the top of the car to find you inside the building. He flashed you a stunning smile, the expression putting you at ease just slightly. You were doing this with Hoseok, he would be at your side all night, and with Hoseok next to you nothing could go too wrong. You knew that.

His parents stepped out of the car next, waiting patiently for their son to guide them inside the building. As the door opened, you hoped they wouldn’t be able to hear the pound of your heart against your ribcage.

“Hi Petal,” Hoseok greeted you instantly, flashing you that same comforting smile as he quickly stepped across the room. As soon as he stood in front of you, he wrapped an arm around your lower back and pressed his lips to your cheek in a sweet welcoming kiss. “You look beautiful,” he whispered to you before smirking teasingly. “And you’re great,” he jokingly told you, nearly making you roll your eyes before he stepped to your side, but keeping his hand on your lower back in a comforting gesture. You were so thankful for him in that moment, despite the teasing, that if you were alone you probably would have burst into tears or made love to him that very second. Maybe even both. Realization flooded your entire being as you understood what he was doing. With his greeting, your nerves settled immensely as you discovered he was leaving zero room for any judgment to touch you, simply because of his sincere and obvious love for you. Hoseok made it immediately clear to his parents that ultimately their opinion of you would not change the way he loved you. You both wanted them to like you, and that was very clear to you both, but it was beyond relieving to know that no matter what opinion of you his parents carried out with them at the end of the night, Hoseok’s love for you was unwavering. You were untouchable in Hoseok’s eyes.

“Hi,” you looked from Hoseok to his parents. “Hello,” you bowed politely.

“Mom, Dad, this is my girlfriend,” Hoseok introduced you by name. “And Petal,” he turned to you, flashing you a soft smile. “These are my parents.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you told them, putting on your friendliest face, as you bowed once more.

The properness of the interaction was shattered almost instantly when his mother sighed dramatically. “Finally,” Hoseok’s mom sighed, marching toward you with a bright smile that resembled your boyfriend’s. “It’s so good to meet you,” she told you just before pulling you into a hug that stunned you, though you folded your arms around her back nonetheless. “Hoseok is foolish for not introducing us earlier,” she took a lighthearted shot at your boyfriend, though the glare she directed at him told you both she was a bit perturbed with having been kept from this portion of his life for so long.

“Ah, I made a mistake,” he defended, eliciting a soft giggle from you. Hoseok’s dad then made his way to you, closing your hand between both of his, shaking it gently and warmly.

“We have a pottery class at the school and I’ve always wanted to try,” he told you, looking around the studio. At the mention of a school, you were reminded that he was a high school teacher. With his warm presence, you were certain he was one of those teachers that made students excited to come to class, or at least not completely dread it.

“Oh, well I’m happy that you’re looking forward to this,” you replied with a smile.

So far, so good, you thought.

As you walked around like an instructor, helping Hoseok and his parents with centering the clay on the wheel, you finally felt somewhat settled into the evening. Your heart was no longer pounding as though it was trying to break free from your chest and abandon you in the stress of the night. Instead, you felt rather comfortable in the interaction, you and Hoseok’s family feeding off of each other’s energy fairly easily.

“Petal,” your boyfriend called for you as he struggled to center the clay. “Is this centered?” He asked as he failed to wrangle the wild piece of clay in front of him. Smiling in amusement at him, you shook your head.

“Absolutely not,” you told him, the man tossing his head back in laughter. “Your arms and shoulders shouldn’t wobble at all when it’s centered, your body should stay totally still.” He definitely knew this, as you had taken him on pottery dates in the past and have already taught all of this to him. It had been a while, though, so it was possible he had genuinely forgotten the learned skills. It was also entirely possible he was putting on a bit of an act to keep things light and fun.

“You might need to come show me. Ghost style,” he flirted, making you immediately shoot him a glare before stealing a glance at his parents, worried about the intimate movie reference he casually threw out for everyone to hear. They appeared amused at least.

“I haven’t seen that movie in years,” his mom commented, replying to his Ghost comment. “What particular scene are you referring to, Hoseok?” Oh? You thought as you realized she was fucking with him, fully intending to embarrass him into leaving you alone. You watched as your boyfriend’s face flooded with red as he shied away from his teasing of you. Go mom!

Chuckling at the way she put her son in his place, you nodded to the clay she had expertly centered on the wheel. “Sunshine, look at your mom, that’s what it looks like when the clay is centered.”

“Why are you so good at this?” Hoseok asked in shock as he stopped his wheel, looking over at his mom.

“Ok, so this is where you open the clay up,” you told her, making your way back to your own wheel. All three of them watched as you quickly and easily made sure your clay was centered so you could show the next steps. You had already thrown a bowl, basic and simple for you, but challenging to the beginner potter. Hoseok’s dad was the funniest of the bunch as he ooh’d and awe’d while you quickly created the bowl before setting them loose on their own wheels.

“Ok, so you want to make sure you have a good amount of water in your sponge so you can keep the clay pliable as you open it up,” you told them, dunking your sponge in the bucket of water and squeezing it onto the rotating clay. “And then you place your thumbs at the top, right in the middle here, and you start pushing them into the clay to create a hole,” you spoke as your hands exhibited the instructions you were giving. “You leave about an inch at the bottom and then start widening the opening by dragging your thumbs outward,” you continued your lesson. When you looked up, you found Hoseok’s mom’s eyes bouncing between your hands and her son’s face. Directing your gaze to your boyfriend, you noticed he was watching you in awe and appreciation, a soft smile on his face. The man had watched you create pot after pot, yet his amazement at how your hands worked with the clay never seemed to dissipate. In fact, he seemed to be fascinated with everything you did, your supposed impressiveness never being lost on him.

His mom seemed to be fond of how her son looked at you. And that fact only made you more comfortable in the situation as your heart grew just a bit bigger to accommodate your growing love for Hoseok and his family.

Hoseok’s mom was definitely the best potter of the three, having created three bowls already, another one in the process. His dad opted to make a cup, which was a bit bulky on the bottom but not bad for a first piece.

Hoseok had managed to make a bowl as well and was working on a mug, though he was already stressing about having to make a handle for it. You mentioned he’d need to score the pot when it dried a bit more so the handle would stick to it and his confused expression made it seem as though you had just asked him to do calculus in his head.

Standing beside your boyfriend as you helped him drag a wire cutter underneath his to-be mug, you couldn’t help but smile as his mom let out a small cheer after completing the final pull on her fourth bowl. Your eyes fell on Hoseok when you realized he was looking up at you. “You know, I’m a bit jealous of how many smiles my parents have earned from you tonight compared to the night I met you.” Glaring at him, he giggled. “Getting a smile from you was like a victory back then and here you are, flashing your pretty grins left and right.”

“Hoseok,” you complained through your shock and embarrassment. He was so unabashed when referencing details of your relationship. When you noticed both his parents staring at you in expectation of a story, you cleared your throat, but not without a light poke at the side of Hoseok’s abdomen as just a minimal piece of payback. “Uh, when we first met I don’t think I had ever met anyone so openly and sincerely bright before and I didn’t really know how to take it, so I was a bit standoffish with him.” Standoffish was a nice way to put it, considering you were outrightly perturbed with the man, but you were thankful Hoseok didn’t correct you.

“I took her by surprise,” your boyfriend gloated. “She made me work for her,” he shook his head fondly. “Took me ages to get her to give me a chance.”

“Ok, but you enjoyed teasing me so you weren’t exactly helping your case,” you smiled fondly at the memories. You actually found him to be arrogant and a bit phony the first few times you met the man, but you were glad he didn’t use those exact terms.

“Touché,” he responded giddily. You noticed the way his parents smiled at how you and Hoseok spoke to each other, finding your rapport cute. “I also won her over instantly when she finally did give me that chance.”

“I wouldn’t say instantly,” you teased, Hoseok’s dad chuckling warmly at your comment. He absolutely did win you over almost immediately, which your boyfriend knew as he flashed you a knowing grin.

“The best partners are always the ones who challenge you,” his dad noted, drawing your eyes to him as he went back to work on his pot.

The piece of wisdom stuck with you long after that night, because of the truth within them. Hoseok was constantly challenging you, convincing you to look within yourself, and encouraging you to pull the best of you out. It was one of the reasons you loved and appreciated him so much. The idea of being challenged by Hoseok for the rest of your days excited you, while bringing you an immense amount of comfort. You had known for a while that you wanted to be with Hoseok forever, but it was perhaps that moment that you realized just how badly you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him, always challenging each other, while always giving each other a home.

Glancing at your boyfriend, you found him already looking at you with a smile, and you felt your heart pound and melt at once inside your chest. And when the man nudged your bicep with his nose, just before leaving a kiss to the bare skin on your arm, you found yourself smiling fondly, lifting your clay covered finger to swipe some of the substance on his cheek.

Hoseok giggled lightly before speaking. “My little challenge,” he teased, making you scoff as you rolled your eyes. And then, in a moment just between you both, he mouthed the words, I love you. And god, you were so lucky he did.

Smiling softly at him, you nodded, as if to tell him you knew. You felt it always. And you hoped he felt it from you as well. I love you, too, you mouthed back. You really truly did. With your entire being. And the smile he flashed at you told you that he knew that as well.

#hoseok fluff #hoseok x reader #hoseok fic #hoseok fanfic #hoseok imagine #hoseok scenario #hobi fluff #j hope fluff #bts fluff #bts x reader #bts reactions #bts fics #bts fanfics #bts imagines #bts scenarios #hobi imagine #j hope imagine #j hope x reader #hobi x reader #jhope fluff

[delicioustreewitch]

AFTER WATCH THIS WHY I AM EMOTIONAL 🥺

CAN SOMEONE TELL ME 🥺

Why is this happening first Jin then him why they have to goo i miss them🙂🥺

#j hope #j hope imagine #bts jhope #jhope headers #jhope edits #j hope bts #jhope #bangtan army #jhope moodboard #jung hobi #jung hoseok #i miss it #miss him #army bts #i care him 🥺😭 #i just 🥺🥺🥺🥺 #i love him

[bangtanbonito]

fondos de hobi bonito ♡

#bts #bts army #bts hobi #bangtan hobi #hobi aesthetic #jung hoseok #hoseok #bts hosoek #hoseok boyfriend material #hoseok bts #bts hope #j hope imagine #j hope bts #bts bts

[sabiekay]

POV: You’re on a blind date with “that nice young man” your mom wouldn’t shut up about. All the neighborhood aunties talk about him, actually. He’s a teacher, is close with his family, and all around good guy….but goddammit you’re gonna go feral if he keeps adjusting his low buttoned shirt 👀

#hoseok #bts #god the feelings from today’s Weverse Live #and yet this is where my brain goes #j hope imagine

[namseokwifey]

moeda

Essa é minha primeira fanfic postada em qualquer lugar. Ficaria muito grata pelo apoio. Por favor, não plagiar, pois seria uma enorme falta de educação. Espero que gostem da fanfic. :)

Já passei por tantos países nos últimos meses que acabei perdendo a conta, mas esse em especial me marcou por um motivo. 

  Eu estava em algum país ao leste. Em uma cidadezinha antiga aos arredores de um deserto. Meus sapatos estavam cheios de areia e meu estômago roncava furiosamente em protesto. Precisava parar em algum lugar para descansar e continuar minha jornada. Pretendia cruzar a fronteira ainda esse mês. 

  Encontrei uma construção amarela, bonita, que parecia ser um bar ou algo assim pela placa azul pendurada acima da porta, que por sinal, era um belo vitral. Assim que coloquei meus pés lá dentro, fui invadida por conversas fervorosas.

  O ar lá era abafado, meio denso. A luz do sol ardente passava pelas enormes janelas enfileiradas em uma parede. Eu podia ver as partículas de poeira dançando no ar. O cheiro era de álcool, sem dúvidas. E uma música muito baixa ecoava e ricocheteava nas paredes.

  Larguei minha mochila ao lado de uma mesa perto do bar e me joguei na cadeira bamba. Observei as pessoas. Como elas conseguiam usar aquelas roupas de aparência pesada naquele calor? Alguns até usavam chapéus enormes! A cultura daqui é mesmo fascinante. 

  Meus olhos vagam pelos salão fazendo contato visual com um outro par. É rápido, tão rápido que nem posso ver que cor eles eram. Desvio. Não parece ser daqui assim como eu. E quando levanto para pedir algo ao barman, sinto que me observa atentamente. 

  Me encosto no balcão e viro a cabeça por cima do ombro. O dono dos olhos pisca e vira o rosto para a janela ao lado de sua mesa, a mão no queixo. Acho que chamei sua atenção.

  Volto para minha mesa e pego meu diário de viagem para atualizar. Fico tão concentrada que não percebo o tempo passar. Já é tarde quando faço uma pausa para beber um gole da bebida já quente que ainda resta. Estico as costas. Me espreguiço. A luz do sol está mais alaranjada banhando o salão. 

  Logo ouviu-se uma comoção em uma das mesas mais afastadas. Espiei por cima do ombro para o mesmo local de antes. Um homem de cabelos pretos discutia com o barman. 

  -Como assim você não vai pagar!? -dizia o barman indignado.

  -Veja bem…- argumentava o homem com um sorriso amarelo- Eu esqueci minha carteira em casa.

  -Mas a sua carteira está bem em cima da mesa! -alguém da multidão gritou. 

  Ouvi o homem xingar baixinho e depois tentar o sorriso mais uma vez, mais brilhante e inocente. Bom, para falar a verdade, daquela distância ele tinha mesmo um ar inocente. Era estrangeiro, com certeza, e parecia muito novo para estar em um bar. Ou era apenas seu rosto muito jovial? 

  Ele olhou para mim e eram os mesmo olhos de antes. Interessante. 

  -Não pode deixar para depois? Eu posso pagar quando arrumar dinheiro.

  -Você é um estrangeiro. Pensa que não sei que vai dar no pé assim que sair pela porta?

  -Você nem me conhece. Não sabe que tipo de pessoa eu sou. -o homem diz irritado.

  -Exatamente por isso. 

  Ele solta um suspiro, morde o lábio e passa a mão no cabelo, ansioso. 

  -Posso trabalhar aqui? Sabe, servir às mesas ou lavar a louça. Bom, posso cozinhar também. 

  -Não fazemos caridade. E não preciso de mais funcionários. Principalmente um que vai embora em menos de um dia. Você não sai daqui até pagar. São as regras.

  Sinto que é o princípio de uma discussão mais acalorada, mas então o homem de cabelos negros parece ter uma ideia. Um sorriso se forma em seu rosto e ele vai até a jukebox. 

  -Se quer uma música, precisa de moedas. -o barman fala com um sorriso ácido. 

  Tenho uma vontade enorme de dar um soco na cara daquele infeliz. Nada de gorjeta para o senhor, seu escroto. Estou no meio de uma careta quando o rapaz para ao meu lado. 

  -Pode-me emprestar uma moeda? Prometo que irei te recompensar. 

  Levo um susto e levanto as sobrancelhas. Não esperava que viesse pedir a mim. Fico encarando por uma eternidade e provavelmente devo parecer uma idiota. Ele levanta as sobrancelhas também, imitando meu gesto. Parece curioso. Começa a retrair a mão estendida envergonhado. 

   Volto à realidade e procuro, desajeitada, uma moeda em meu bolso. Coloco em sua mão apressadamente. 

  -Obrigado. -ele me dá um sorriso brilhante e volta para a máquina. 

  A música baixa para e é substituída por uma batida mais alta e animada. O rapaz caminha pelos ladrilhos gastos do chão com a confiança renovada. Seus dedos passam pela minha mão em cima da mesa como uma borboleta. Ele cheira à menta e sálvia do deserto. 

  As pessoas sentadas nos bancos abrem espaço para ele subir em cima do balcão do bar, derrubando algumas coisas ali. Todos o encaram com curiosidade. 

  E então não posso mais desgrudar meus olhos dele. Seu corpo se move ao ritmo da música, como se fossem um só. Observo cada movimento, cada onda, cada giro e bater dos pés contra a madeira. Seu robe de seda estampado sacode ao redor dos joelhos e é tão lindo! 

  Meu corpo todo arrepia. Não sou a única fascinada. Todos ficam em silêncio assistindo ao show. O homem sorri mostrando que dançar daquele jeito é a coisa mais divertida do mundo. E ele sabe que ninguém ousa desgrudar os olhos de sua figura.

  Sinto meu rosto esquentar quando ele mexe o quadril daquele jeito que só um dançarino muito bom consegue. Tem uma delicadeza nos movimentos que o faz ter uma leve feminilidade. E é tão sensual…

  A leveza com que agora faz ziguezague entre as mesas é igual uma borboleta pairando no ar. Deslizando facilmente pelo piso ele pega um chapéu de alguém e o vira para cima, estendendo para as pessoas ao passar com floreios de seus braços esguios. E não muito surpreendente, elas colocam várias notas e moedas dentro. 

  No entanto, a música acaba e ele não passa ao meu lado com o chapéu. Há uma onda de aplausos e assobios.

  -Isso cobre o valor? -o rapaz entrega tudo ao barman. 

  Infeliz, com uma careta, ele aceita e dispensa o rapaz com um aceno. 

  -Ah! Um momentinho…-o de cabelos negros fuça dentro do chapéu e cata uma moeda. Depois da uma piscadela para o outro homem. 

  A multidão se dispersa, comentando sobre o ocorrido. Eu estava meio zonza ainda, em transe.

  -Senhorita, sua moeda. 

  A mão dele está estendida outra vez em minha frente. 

  -Sinto que a recompensa que comentou mais cedo se referia à dança. -digo pegando o objeto.  

  Ele solta uma gargalhada alta. 

  -Se quer interpretar dessa forma. -seu sorriso diminui um pouco -Gostaria muito de lhe pagar um jantar, mas como deve ter reparado, tenho um probleminha com contas no momento. 

  De repente, tenho uma ideia. 

  -Por que não dança na rua para arranjar dinheiro? Aqui você foi um sucesso. 

  O rapaz parece ponderar. 

  -Só se a senhorita vier comigo. Quero lhe recompensar devidamente com uma aventura. O que me diz? 

  Ele estende a mão, dessa vez me prometendo algo mais grandioso ainda. E assim que a seguro, ele sorri brilhante como o sol.

  Meus meses seguintes foram os melhores da minha vida. Passamos por inúmeras cidades juntos, dançando nas ruas, sob o sol e a chuva. Cantando em bares noturnos enquanto nos davam bebidas de graça. 

  E meu coração viajante ganhou um lugar especial aonde quer que eu fosse. Éramos apenas nós dois e o mundo todo pela frente. 

#hoseok #bts fic #hobi #fanfic #fanfics #bts army #jung hoseok #j hope #bts x reader #j hope imagine #j hope x reader

[tryingtoremembermyname]

min yoongi the man that you are

i think neutral pretty is my favourite… what about you guys??

(i know chaotic hot is an edit but he just looked too hot for me not to add it)

other members :

hoseok

jungkook

taehyung

namjoon

seokjin

jimin

#aesthetic #bts #bangtan #min yoongi #suga #agustd #yoongi #yoongi x reader #namjoon #seokjin #jimin #jungkook #taehyung #hoseok #j hope #x reader #imagine #fluff #angst #moodboard #kpop edits #edit #ot7 #ot7 x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n

[xjoonchildx]

kanalia | jhs x reader | chapter five: the king is a fool

banner by the amazing, incredible @kth1

⚜️summary: secrets and uncertainty plague a young queen in her arranged marriage to a kind but distant king. the farther she drifts from her husband, the closer she gets to one of his most trusted men.

⚜️pairing: queen!reader x royalguard!hoseok

⚜️rating: mature, 18+

⚜️genre: royal AU, historical AU, smut

⚜️warnings: infidelity (it’s complicated, y’all) mentions of pregnancy, fertility issues. OC struggles with depressive thoughts and episodes.

⚜️word count: 10K

⚜️notes: the queen is hot and bothered, literally & figuratively. the king puts several Ls in the disappointed but not surprised category, everyone gets drunk at some point. lord min is a terrible archer, yeona remains round and winning. the queen could melt steel with her sexual frustration, lord jung is not faring much better but at least he knows what he's doing, slightly awkward marital smut. the queen fights with everyone.

i could never have finished this chapter without these amazing authors & minds @miscelunaaa and @vyduan and one person who would probably level us all with her first fic if she decided to write one, @hobi-gif. please let me re-iterate how much it means to me that any one of you reads my stories, and it would make me endlessly happy to talk to you about it. you can talk to me here 💕

previous chapter final chapter

Hyeri is curious.

She examines the stains at the hem of your walking dress with narrowed eyes, pausing her thorough study of the red-brown splotches only to steal the occasional furtive glance your way.  

Her lips purse as she shakes dirt loose from the grooves of your walking boots. She watches the sediment fall to the floor with a raised brow, uncharacteristically quiet as she reaches for the broom to sweep the mess away.

But her bewilderment only grows as she draws closer.

The older woman’s posture stiffens as she regards you, lips pulling into a thin line as she takes in the state of your wind-swept hair and grimy fingernails. You must reek of the ill temper you’ve brought back from your ride, the smell of it as pungent as the sweat and horse on your clothes. She tests your temperament in much the same way as she tests your bathwater, query as feather-light as the fingertip she skims along the surface.

“Are you… well, this evening, Your Grace?”

“As well as I ever am,” you answer succinctly, accepting her hand and stepping carefully into the tub. Woven into the spaces between each of your clipped words is rebuke; a silent warning to proceed no further. Your handmaid, who is by no means a meek woman, has the good sense to heed it.

So Hyeri says nothing as she takes a comb to the tangles in your hair, working them apart with peach oil. She says nothing as she scrubs away the dirt embedded beneath your normally pristine fingernails. And she says nothing still when you wince at the ache in your thighs as she helps you from the bath.

When the heavy chamber door finally pulls behind her, shutting the stares and the questions safely out, you make your way to bed. You extinguish the lamp on your nightstand and welcome the shadows.

And then you succumb to the darkness that envelops you, inside and out.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Steamy heat has put an end to weeks of pleasant fall weather. 

You’ve sought refuge this afternoon beneath a tree at the edge of the castle’s sprawling open field. The oak, though grand, offers scant protection from the midday sun. A bead of sweat trickles down your neck and disappears into the linen at your décolletage. 

“Between you and me, I’ve always found hunting to be an appalling sport.”

Boram shakes her head at the scene in the distance. The King and his men claim to be training for an upcoming hunt, but by all appearances, there is little training taking place. Instead they look to be bandying about like mischievous little boys, scrambling for position in front of the straw targets with bows in hand. 

“I find it to be an exercise in vanity more than ability. Little more than male preening disguised as sport.” Boram dabs at her brow with a handkerchief and sighs. “What do you think?”

You don’t answer Boram’s question on account of your distraction. Try as you might to keep your eyes on the dashing elder Lord Kim or the charming young Lord Jeon or – heaven forbid, your husband – they wander to Lord Jung instead, over and over and over again. Your gaze pulled to his strong face as though drawn by a magnet.

He turns his head and his dark eyes find yours across the distance.

The butterflies you’ve felt in his presence before are not to blame for the unsettled feeling that comes over you now. The very sight of the man makes your stomach turn over, as though you can taste the vivid recollection of the last time you saw him. 

The memory of that wonderful ride – and of the horrible way it ended – are still bitter on your tongue. Like picking the most beautiful fruit in the orchard only to find it sour and decaying inside. 

“Your Grace?”

You blink.

“I say this to you as my friend and not my Queen,” Boram says, pausing to clear her throat. “You don’t seem yourself today. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

“Nothing at all,” you lie quickly, smoothing down the damp curls springing up around your ears. “I’m fine, truly. Though I suppose it is possible the heat is making me cross. I can barely think in such conditions.”

“Awful, isn’t it?” Boram laments, reaching over to give Yeona’s belly a tickle. The baby curls into herself like a starfish, giggling as she rolls around on the blanket. “Yoongi says it will take a rain to break it. But until then, we must all suffer.”

“And suffer we shall,” you echo under your breath, watching Lord Jung load his bow in the distance. He sets his lithe body in a precise stance then draws his arm back and releases his arrow. It flies in a tight arc and lands just below the bullseye on the target. The men erupt into raucous cheers. You resist the urge to scowl.

“As for the hunting,” you add, “I think men are just as guilty of the frivolity they so often accuse women of. Not that any one of them is likely to admit it.”

“No, I suppose not,” Boram laughs. “Men are not known to be skilled in the art of introspection.”

“They certainly are not.”

And why should they be? Men never have to stop and consider the consequences of their actions. They alone decide the rules of engagement. They are free to be as vain and as frivolous and as thoughtless as their hearts desire. Horrid, infuriating creatures.

Lord Min steps up to the target. His stance is uneven and his arrow is wild the very second he lets it loose. It flies yards from the target and lands off in the grass. The men jeer loudly.

“Poor Yoongi,” Boram winces as she watches the men tease him. “He’s never been much of an archer, I’m afraid.” But the good-natured Lord Min appears to take it all in stride, shrugging off their taunts as he trades his bow for a fresh tankard of ale.

The King takes his turn next – the lines of his body thicker and stronger than Lord Jung’s, but no less elegant. The men circle around your husband as he draws the bow back with one strong arm. He takes careful aim with his arrow and deftly plants it just above the target’s bullseye. The sound of the men’s whooping echoes across the field.

And so it goes for a while, with the men taking turns loosing their arrows to varying degrees of success.

Lords Park and Jeon both prove to be adequate archers, hitting the targets more often than not. The elder and younger Lord Kims are less skilled and spend the lion’s share of their time plucking arrows from the grass behind the targets. Lord Min quickly gives up on the endeavor entirely, opting instead to sit with his ale and heckle the others.

But the two best archers on the field refuse to be distracted by drink.

The King and Lord Jung set an arduous pace, loading and firing their arrows in quick succession. Even at a distance, even with your meager knowledge of archery, you can discern that both men are quite evenly matched in terms of skill. They load, fire, and strike their respective targets with precision.

On and on they persist – despite the brutal heat, despite the fact that the other men have begun to tire. One by one the other Guardsmen surrender, abandoning their bows and collapsing onto the grass to watch. 

“These two seem quite serious, don’t they?” Boram notes. 

They certainly do. The air of silly fun that’s sat over the group for much of the afternoon is all but gone now and what began as a diversion for all of the men has clearly become a challenge between just two. The other Guardsmen seem to sense the shift in atmosphere as well, their faces earnest as they watch the King and Lord Jung compete.

Physically, the two men are quite different. The King’s muscular arms and chest serve him well as he steadies his bow and fires. In contrast, Lord Jung’s body is lithe, sleek. He moves with an agility the King cannot. But both wear matching expressions of determination. And though this competition might have been amiable at the start, it’s now evident that neither man is willing to leave the field without a clear victor.

Lord Min calls out to them both – voice too distant for you to make out his words – and the men appear to nod in agreement. They both step back from the targets, increasing the difficulty of each shot. But it takes only a few more arrows to prove that the added distance is no hindrance to either man. Both set their stances again, both aim and fire, and both land their arrows with ease.

The Guardsmen sitting nearby fall silent, and in the absence of their racket the King’s answering growl of frustration echoes over the entire field. 

“Oh my,” Boram whispers. “I’d heard there was some tension between them, and it would certainly appear to be so.”

It certainly would. Right now, the King and Lord Jung look more like rivals seeking to settle a score than lifelong friends. 

The King’s agitation is apparent in every move he makes, in the way he jerks the arrows out of the straw targets and stalks back into position. Lord Jung’s agitation is equally apparent. He accepts a skin of water from Lord Min without so much as a thanks and hands it back once he’s drained it.

It’s a strange thing to see the handsome Guardsman challenge his King with the very same passion in which he’d defended him just days prior.

“Has the King spoken to you about it?”

“No,” you admit stiffly, “He has not. Are you determined to keep me in the dark, as well?”

“Heavens, no,” Boram protests, pulling Yeona into her lap. She hands the baby a rice cake and Yeona sets to gumming at it right away. “I would never want you to think that I’m speaking ill of the King, is all.” 

“I could never think that of you.”

There is hesitation in Boram’s face when she flicks her dark eyes back to meet yours. 

“Well, the details I have are few,” she starts slowly. “But what I know is that the King expressed a wish to see Lord Jung married again and Lord Jung, from my understanding was – ” she pauses, carefully considering her next words,“ – less than amenable to the idea.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Yoongi says they fought over the matter. Quite thoroughly, from what I’ve been told.”

“I see,” you say, taking great care to keep your expression impassive. “And did Lord Min explain why Lord Jung is so opposed to marriage? He’s still a young man. I can certainly see why the King would think it a logical proposition.”

Boram’s lips purse as she thinks.

“I do not know that I can say. Though I consider Lord Jung to be a dear friend, he can be terribly private about some matters.”

You cut your eyes towards the field to search for the man in question. 

Does she really know Lord Jung? Do you? Today there is no sign of the man who’d leveled you with a smile in the Great Hall, no trace of the man who’d teased you about riding clothes before helping you onto your mount. The man you see now wears a strained expression as he watches the King take aim, his energy volatile like a pot ready to boil over. 

Perhaps you’d been foolish to think him so different from the King. Perhaps they are as evenly matched in the art of duplicity as they are the skill of archery.

“So what will come of it?” you ask after a while. “Will the King – make him marry?”

“I don’t know,” Boram admits. “And therein, I suppose, is where much of the tension lies. Lord Jung has already taken a bride once in service to the Kingdom. I can’t imagine he’d be inclined to do it again.”

There’s a sudden commotion on the field then, an outburst that has Lords Park and Jeon on their feet. The younger men rush to meet the King and Lord Jung mid-field, nodding as the King speaks. Both take off running at once. 

“I’ve no clue what that is all about, but I do wish they’d end this already,” Boram grumbles, watching the young men disappear behind the tree line as they go off in search of whatever it is the King’s asked for. “I don’t know how much longer I can last in this heat.”

“Nor I,” you agree, watching the King and Lord Jung speak to one another. Both men look sober, the lines of their faces hard. “But it seems we’ll all have to endure it for just a bit longer in order to humor this contest of male prides.”

Some arduous minutes later, Lords Park and Jeon make their return to the field.

The dust kicked up by the horses they ride precedes them, the ground parched from weeks without rain. Both men arrive in a cloud of grime – Lord Jeon on the King’s mount and Lord Park on Lord Jung’s– and dismount without delay, handing the reins over to their elders.

So this is how they will decide the victor.

“Well, let’s hope they keep their wits about them,” Boram sighs. “Lest they both break their legs in the heat of competition.”

“Yes, let’s,” you mutter.

The King is first to take his turn, of course. 

He mounts Jeonsa with ease despite the horse’s grand height and takes his time warming the warhorse up. The King runs his mount in circles around the target until he’s satisfied with his plan and the timing of his shot. He steadies himself against the jostling with his strong thighs, pulling his bow back to fire. The arrow hits the target just below the bullseye. 

The men, who’ve spent hours now drinking in the hot sun, erupt into a chorus of ruffian cheers. 

Lord Jung wastes no time taking to his own mount. His horse is leaner and quicker than Jeonsa, and it’s clear that he commands complete control of the animal’s every step. Both horse and rider move as one as he urges his mount faster, straightening his back to fire. The arrow hits the target just above the bullseye.

The men are getting rowdy now, egging on both competitors as they circle on their horses. Their shouting is louder, more animated, and you would not at all be surprised if there were a few healthy wagers underway. You wonder which of the men they’ve bet on. 

You wonder which of the men you would bet on before pushing the thought away and reminding yourself that you’re not particularly fond of either at this moment. 

The King circles Jeonsa around the target once again, taking his time about it. He seems to consider every circumstance surrounding his next shot – the angle, the speed, the light wind that blows east. After a great deal of circling and thought, he rears back to release his arrow.

It lands on the target, just above the arrow planted by Lord Jung. 

The shouting from the men becomes a low roar.

Lord Jung pointedly ignores the commotion, rolling his shoulders as he stares down the target, brow knit in concentration. Soon he’s urging his mount to move, the pair fluid as they circle the target. 

Just like the King, Lord Jung circles longer for this shot than he had for the first. Twice he draws back as though ready to fire and thinks better of it. But after painstaking deliberation, he finds his stride. He pulls his arm back and sets his stance. Then he releases his arrow. 

And it misses the target entirely.

It flies off the end of Lord Jung’s bow with astonishing speed, gliding just to the right of the straw and landing off in the distance. The men are on their feet now, jumping and yelling and slapping one another on their backs. Lord Jung shakes his head in disgust.

“Well,” Boram reaches for her basket, loading her things into it with haste. “That’s settled now. I certainly hope at least one of them feels better. Let’s move into more liveable conditions, shall we?”

You open your mouth to agree just as you spot the King barreling towards you atop Jeonsa, leaving the men celebrating his victory on the field behind. 

You nearly stumble over the hem of your dress in your rush to rise to your feet. Your husband is grinning widely when he reaches you, stopping his mount long enough to extend one large hand. You place your hand in his and he dips his head to plant a kiss on your fingers.

“Well done, You Grace,” you demur, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. “A hard-fought victory.”

“Thank you. I’m quite pleased with the outcome.”

The King acknowledges Boram with a smile before turning his mount to ride back to his men. You put a hand to your brow to shade your eyes and watch as they cheer for him – reward him with the adulation he’s clearly worked so hard for. 

But a thought occurs to you as you examine the scene in the distance. 

There is no sign of Lord Jung. 

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

The King comes to you that night – hair damp and smelling of fine soap, breath tinged faintly with ale. 

He coaxes you to your knees just as he’s done so many times before. His fingers slide against your most secret place, slippery just as they’ve been so many times before. And then he’s pushing inside you, hard and hot just as he’s been so many times before.

But there is something different about him tonight.

Your husband’s touch is rougher than you remember. His grip on your waist is harder than you remember, large hands moving from your waist to your backside to dig his blunt fingertips into the soft flesh. His thrusts are more forceful than you remember, more erratic, powerful enough to push you up the length of the bed. 

You fist your hands into the bedding and push back, refusing to allow your knees to buckle under the pressure. That earns you a low groan from the King – a sound that strikes a strange chord inside you; sends a shiver racing up your spine. You press your hot face into the sheets.

Perhaps Namjoon is still feeling the effects of an arduous afternoon in the hot sun. Perhaps he’s still in his cups after a night of drinking with his men. 

Or perhaps it is all just a trick of your mind.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Morning brings no improvement in your mood. Quite the opposite, in fact. 

You wake snappish, jarred from a fitful sleep by the sudden appearance of light in your chamber. Shafts of it – hot and harsh – stream through your windows, spill across your duvet, assault your eyes. You bury your face in the pillow in a futile attempt to avoid it, sweat beading at the nape of your neck until the uncomfortable warmth forces you to quit the bed.

But the rude manner of your awakening is only one reason for your irritation.

The other is the lingering tenderness between your legs, a dull ache you can feel with each careful step. The sensation is more an annoyance than a true discomfort, but it vexes you nonetheless. Each muted throb serves as an unwelcome reminder of your visit from the King, of the peculiar way he’d bedded you last night. 

Your face flames as you think of it.

What is he about, your husband? And what of the juvenile, chest-thumping nonsense you’d witnessed yesterday afternoon? The combative way he’d gone up against Lord Jung and the grand show he’d made of coming to you to fête his victory. Boorish, absurd behavior – all of it. 

You go about your morning ablutions in silence, unwilling to meet Hyeri’s eyes for even one moment. You are in no mood to withstand her meddling today – well-intentioned or otherwise – and so it is for the best that she helps you wash and dress in relative silence. 

If there is something the older woman means to say, she has the good sense to swallow it, murmuring only a quiet warning about the heat as you slip out the chamber door.

And heavens, how you are wholly unprepared for the heat.

It, too, has worsened overnight – the air around you nearly thick enough to drink. You hurry towards the aviary, spurred on by the promise of the shade beneath its trees, but by the time you are finally seated at your desk you are soggy and sticky all over. Slick with sweat between your thighs and beneath your arms and breasts. 

Perhaps you should have heeded Hyeri’s warning. 

The thought rankles you as you open your book and attempt to pick up your story where you’d left it. You start and stop the same sentence over and over again, the heat so tyrannical that you can barely breathe, much less think. Even the King’s prized birds refuse to fly under such conditions – opting instead to perch on the highest branches, wings lifted to cool themselves with the occasional passing breeze. 

The stillness unnerves you; makes your aggravation mount with each unbearable minute that ticks by and before long, you throw your novel down in frustration. This will not do.

Loathe as you are to spend another day confined to the castle’s thick stone walls, there is no avoiding it. You’ll not survive another half hour in this heat, which means you’ll certainly not be able to pass an entire afternoon in it. You huff as you throw your things back into your basket and stalk off towards the aviary’s entrance.

But perhaps you should have been more mindful.

Immersed as you are in this black mood, you don’t notice the brambles growing at the edge of the heavy gate. You brush past them in a hurry, only to be wrenched back by the thorns that take hold of your skirt. You tug at the material with your free hand, successful only at tearing a hole in the fine linen but unsuccessful at pulling yourself free. You drop your basket in the struggle and the contents spill out, an apple rolling to a stop at your feet.

It is then that you do something very unladylike, something that would have earned you an exaggerated gasp from your sister or a sharp rebuke from your mother. 

You swear. Loudly.

You summon all of your frustration and scream what is perhaps the most undignified word you know at the very top of your lungs, the vulgarity echoing in the aviary’s eerie quiet. And though it’s done nothing to solve your current predicament, there’s something truly satisfying about speaking the nasty word out loud, about shouting it into existence.

That is, until someone coughs.

“I take it you need some help, Your Grace?”

You clap a hand over your mouth as you whirl in the direction of the voice.

Lord Min approaches slowly, eyes sparkling with amusement as he takes in your sorry state. You’ve no idea where he came from, but at this very moment you’ve never been so horrified and grateful to see him, all at the very same time. 

“Yes, I – ” you start and stop, flustered by both your behavior. “ – I’m stuck. The brambles are caught in my skirt and – ”

“Oh yes, I see,” he says, leaning down to examine the mess you’ve gotten yourself into. He tugs at the bottom of your skirt and you wince at the sound of the fabric tearing. “You’ve got yourself quite tangled up here, haven’t you?” 

“I believe I have,” you admit with embarrassment. Lord Min gets down on his knees and begins plucking thorns and burs out of the fabric, brow knit with concentration as he attempts to extricate what remains of your fine linen dress.

You clear your throat.

“My Lord, I hope I didn’t – Well, rather, I hope you were not offended by that word you heard me say. It’s not a word that I usually use, not really. Well, not ever. What I mean to say is that I know of coarse language, of course, but I’m certainly not in the habit of using it.”

“What word?” Lord Min interrupts your rambling from his perch at your feet, eyes wide with feigned innocence. “Did you say something, Your Grace? I must not have heard it.”

The corners of his mouth curve into a cautious smile, which you return with a timid one of your own. His teasing is welcome. It brings badly-needed levity to your embarrassing situation and lightens the heaviness of this atrocious day.

“What’s this, Min?”

At once, the gesture dies on your lips.

Lord Jung comes into view by way of the same path taken by Lord Min, though his sudden appearance does not bring you the same kind of relief. Quite the opposite, in fact. 

The very moment he’s standing before you, critical gaze moving from you to Lord Min and back, you feel absolutely lightheaded with anxiety. You wonder what he must make of the scene he’s stumbled upon: Lord Min on his knees, at your feet, hands fisted in your skirts. 

“You Grace.” The lines of Lord Jung’s beautiful face are hard as he acknowledges you, his voice stiff and formal in a way that makes it foreign to your ears. He bows to you much in the same way, body rigid as he performs the required motion.

“My Lord,” you return with similar formality.

“Her Grace is stuck,” Lord Min explains, unaware or perhaps unbothered by the provocative position the two of you have been discovered in. “I’m trying to free her without ripping this linen to shreds. Could use your help, seeing as you’re standing there. Push that branch back for me?”

“Yes, of course.”

Oh, but now you feel a migraine coming on. Lord Jung squeezes into the space beside you, leaning over Lord Min to push the brambles back so that the older man may have both hands free to work. At this point, both men are too close, but he is far too close. Heat blazes a path up your neck and into your cheeks. 

Inhale, you twit. Exhale.

“Last few, Your Grace,” Lord Min announces, voice muffled by your skirts. “I think the linen will need a bit of mending, but not much more.”

“Thank you, My Lord.”

Lord Jung’s gaze connects with yours. His dark eyes, normally so warm and expressive, are flat as he regards you. In fact, everything about the handsome guardsman’s countenance is uncharacteristically severe today, from the deep knit of his brows to the way his bow-shaped mouth presses into a firm line. He looks away from you without so much as a smile.

Is he – is he angry with you?

Your mouth nearly falls open at the realization. What right would Lord Jung have to be angry with you? It was he who’d laid the trap with the promise of a perfect afternoon spent riding and he who’d sprung the trap by defending your husband’s dishonesty. 

If either one of you had a just claim to animosity, it would most certainly be you. 

The awful word you’d uttered at the very start of this ridiculous dilemma springs right to the tip of your tongue. If only you had the courage to spit it at him. Horrid, infuriating man.

“There now,” Lord Min announces. “I think we’ve got it. Hang on to that bramble for a bit longer while Her Grace steps away from the gate.”

You start forward slowly, steps mercifully unencumbered by gnarled plants. Though Lord Min has done his best to salvage the fine linen, your skirt is now covered in a fine dusting of grime, torn in places from your knees to your ankles. Hyeri will have a fit when she sees you, but you couldn’t care less about the state of your ruined dress. The only thing that matters now is quitting this place at once.

“Thank you so much, Lord Min,” you breathe, dropping to your knees to gather your scattered things. The elder guardsman helps you retrieve the wayward charcoals and papers, which you hurriedly stuff back into your basket. “I’ll be off now and won’t take up any more of your afternoon.”

With that, you rush to your feet and turn on your heels to leave. You try not to think about the scene you’re leaving behind – Lord Min puzzled by your sudden exit, Lord Jung affronted by the fact that you’d pointedly ignored him in your thanks. 

You make haste with those first few steps towards freedom, only to be pulled back once again. Only this time, not by jagged brambles.

“Your Grace.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand at the sound of the gruff voice behind you. You turn around slowly, acutely aware of both men watching your every move. When Lord Jung steps forward, your eyes fall to the gently worn leather binding in his hands. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” 

You take great care to school your features, though the panic rising inside of you threatens to spill out. Your most private thoughts are inside that book. Fragments of poems and unsent letters and one horribly incriminating sketch of a man who is most certainly not your husband.

“Thank you, My Lord,” you mumble, resisting the urge to run to him and snatch the book right out of his grip. You can feel him watching your every move as you approach to accept it with unsteady hands.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

A storm is coming. You can feel it.

Never mind that the sun is shining – or that the sky outside is a perfect, crystalline blue. The clouds dotted across the horizon hang in the air, unmoving. There is no wind to rustle the leaves in the trees. The calm is ominous. Foreboding.

“... think none of the people in this kingdom have ever seen this kind of display before. I imagine they’ll be quite awed by it. I’ve only ever seen it once myself, in a village far North. A strange lot, those people are. After all these years, they still dabble in the dark arts.”

At the other end of the long dining table before you sits the King. He’s been prattling on like this for the better part of ten minutes now; far too absorbed in his grand talk of the festival to note that his audience of one has yet to engage with a word that’s come out of his mouth.

“It’s strange though, to think of celebrating a Fall Festival in this heat. Though I generally prefer the heat to the cold, these conditions are quite beyond the pale. We’ll have to have just as much water on hand as we do ale.”

You make a sound under your breath that you hope will pass for discourse.

“Of course, there’s still much to be done. But the stewards assure me that everything will be ready in time. And there will be much to celebrate this year as I’m told the crops in all our holdings are faring well. The wheat has – ”

The King’s jabbering comes to an abrupt stop.

“You’ve barely eaten,” he notes, in a sudden fit of awareness. He regards you over the rim of his wine glass, curious. “Is the jajangmyeon not to your liking?”

“It is to my liking,” you insist, pushing the wheat noodles around your bowl in a half-hearted attempt to appease him. “As always. I suppose I’m just not very hungry tonight, is all.”

“I find that surprising,” the King says, as though you’d asked his opinion on the matter. “I understand you were brave enough to venture out into that awful heat this afternoon. I would have thought you’d be famished tonight.”

Every muscle in your body tenses at once.

“Oh?”

“I spoke with Hyeri this afternoon,” the King elaborates, oblivious to his misstep. “She said she’d warned you against leaving the castle under those conditions, but you’d off and done it anyway.” He chuckles under his breath as he recounts the conversation. “I think you surprise her at times with how strong-willed you can be.”

Beneath the table, your hands ball into fists.

The thought of Hyeri disclosing the details of your day to the King, no matter how trivial, incenses you. You imagine them together over tea, sharing a laugh as they trade observations about your shortcomings. Or worse – meeting with one another somber-faced as they commiserate over your inability to produce a child. 

That thought is the most insidious. Your nails dig savagely into your palms.

“Do you and Hyeri discuss my comings and goings often, then, Your Grace?” 

Your husband shrugs, helping himself to another generous serving of noodles.

“Often enough, I suppose.”

“So am I then to assume that when you ask me about my day, you are merely standing on ceremony? Surely you must be, given that you’ve already had a full report from my handmaid.”

The King sets down his chopsticks to look at you, perplexed by the contentious turn in this conversation. But he’s careful to school his features as he considers what to say next.

“Of course not,” he starts slowly. “I ask after you because I genuinely want to know about your day. It’s a consideration that I would think customary between husbands and wives.”

Is he – is he toying with you?

What on earth would His Grace know about what’s customary between husbands and wives? He is the one who’s made this marriage into a farce with his deceit and adultery. He is the one who’s held you at arm’s length from the very start in order to protect the woman he truly loves. Your husband’s hubris is as astonishing as it is aggravating. Horrid, infuriating man.

“Well I, for one, would genuinely like to know about your day, Your Grace,” you say, unable to keep venom from seeping into your every word. “So tell me then – as is customary between husband and wives – how did you pass the afternoon?”

The color drains from the King’s face. 

You should shut your mouth now and say no more, you know it – but by now you are far too consumed with anger to give much thought to the consequences of sharp words. You push the bowl of jajangmyeon away and get to your feet.

“Nothing of interest to share, then?” You raise a brow as you stare down at your husband, unwilling to look away for even one moment. “What a pity. Perhaps tomorrow.”

The King’s eyes narrow but his mouth stays shut. He says nothing in his own defense, says nothing to attempt to placate you. 

And he says nothing as you turn your back on him and walk out the door.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

The first crack of thunder sounds just as you’re readying for bed. You stand at your window and watch the storm roll in. 

Black clouds build off in the distance, discernible only by the occasional flare of lightning. Each bright flash is followed by an earth-shaking rumble that satisfies you somehow, as though you’ve manifested this squall with your thoughts. The violent wind and rain it carries with it a mirror of the tempest inside you.

“Do you require anything else, Your Grace?”

Hyeri’s voice comes from behind, timid and small. She’s been tiptoeing around your chamber all evening, clearly disquieted by the cold reception you’d given her upon your return. The well-bred, well-behaved woman inside you whispers that you should turn to her, do something to reassure her, but you refuse. 

Fortified by your anger, you keep your back to Hyeri and go on staring at the storm clouds.

“No,” you say firmly. “You can retire for the night.”

“But I – ” Hyeri starts, stops, and then sighs. “Very well. As you wish, Your Grace.”

And you do wish. You wish for Hyeri to leave you – not just tonight, but every night. And you wish not just for Hyeri to leave you – but all of them. You’ve grown quite tired of humiliating yourself in this kingdom; of placing your trust in people who’ve made you into a fool time and time again. 

There is rustling as the older woman hurriedly gathers her things, then a brief pause before she slips out the door. The heavy thud that finally announces her departure brings you some small measure of peace, but it does not last.

Your bath-damp body is warm when you slip beneath the heavy duvet. Too warm. Though the storm raging nearby brings with it the promise of cool rain, it is still too far off to displace the humid air in your chamber. You toss and turn beneath the heavy covers for a while, your thin nightgown soaked through with sweat by the time you finally kick your bedding away.

So you lie there in the dark, close to feverish with heat and unable to settle down. Every time you close your eyes, you’re taunted by images – of Hyeri, of the King, of the child that never comes. What you would give to be able to quiet your mind, to have some respite from the reality of your circumstances.

But there will be no respite, not any time soon. The thunder outside is close enough now to shake the castle’s heavy walls with each new blast that rips through the sky. You feel the tremors right down to your bones, the sensation causing goosebumps to scatter across your skin. 

In spite of the heat, you shiver. 

There’s a prickling that starts at your scalp and goes right down to your toes. It makes you itch with the desire to drag your nails down your arms and legs. It makes you want to squeeze your thighs together, tight and tighter still until your agitation is gone. Perhaps that is the solution. 

You cup your breasts through the damp, thin material of your nightgown. They feel sensitive, tender — and the very moment you brush your fingertips over your nipples they come to life, pebbling against the gauzy fabric. 

You close your eyes and try to imagine that your hands are not your own. That the fingers that close around the aching buds, teasing and testing, are not your fingers. That the dormant pleasure the pressure rouses inside you has instead been roused by someone else. 

In your mind, the hand that steals between your thighs is not your own. It’s larger than yours, the fingers longer and rougher than yours. You imagine that hand parting your legs, coarse fingertips slippery against the wetness gathered at your entrance. And you imagine it caressing you there, expertly stroking the spot that makes the air leave your lungs. 

What would it be like to be touched like this? To have a lover’s lips at your neck and his hand between your thighs? To have the weight of him pressing down on you, the scent of him enveloping you – to feel his warm breath fan over your skin?

These thoughts only serve to make the ache between your legs more pronounced. But the more you attend to it, the sharper it becomes. Pleasure blooms with each inexpert pass of your fingers over that place, but in its wake your desperation grows, too. 

You whine under your breath as you touch yourself harder, faster – a heaviness building at your core that makes you feel full, overripe. There is relief on the other side of whatever this is, and you know it. 

But can you reach it? 

Your imaginary lover would know how to help you reach it. He would take you in his arms and in his mouth and leave no inch of your body untouched. He would fuse himself to you, skin-to-skin, and show you how to beckon your pleasure at will, help you realize its full potential. 

In your mind’s eye you can see him – legs and arms strong and lean, golden skin illuminated by firelight. The mouth he sets to your aching nipples would be soft, lips pretty and bow-shaped. And his hair would be dark and his eyes would be a rich chocolate and his face would be – 

A clap of thunder explodes in the sky. 

Your eyes fly open – unseeing – as you gasp from the shock of it. It leaves you trembling, body slick with sweat and limbs tingling from the sudden fear. You lie there in the dark, panting as you wait for your heart to stop racing. 

And just like that, the pleasure you’ve been chasing is gone. Quick as a rabbit. 

Outside your window the heavens weep, the rain beating against the ground like a hail of arrows. 

The dry earth enjoying a relief that always seems to elude you.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

“Magnificent, Your Grace.” 

Hyeri passes a hand over the embellishments in your bodice, chest puffed with pride as she examines the dressmaker’s handiwork. Though her brown eyes have long gone dull and gray with age, they shine as she steps back to take you in from head to toe. “Just magnificent.”

It is magnificent – far and away the finest garment you have ever worn. 

Rich, plum-colored velvet embellished with gilt thread, the plunging neckline and bliaut sleeves lined with pressed bezants. You hardly recognize the woman looking back at you in the mirror, the one with her hair swept off her neck in an intricate braided bun, eyes darkened with kohl, ears and neck adorned with sparkling gold. Whoever that woman is, she is far bolder and far more sophisticated than you.

“There’s nothing like his work,” Hyeri muses, running a thumb over pattern pressed into the hem of one sleeve. “Frail as he is, it takes him ages to complete a dress. But he’s worth it. Worth the wait and worth every single won.”

You study the intertwining gold patterns stitched into the bustline. No doubt the King has paid dearly for this dress and all its fine accoutrements. The thought of your husband spending an obscene amount of money on it nearly puts a smile on your face. 

“You look remarkable in this dress,” Hyeri remarks quietly, wrinkled mouth lifting at the corners with a cautious smile. “Well, of course, you look remarkable everyday, but especially tonight.” 

Her expression is bittersweet as she reaches for you, gently tucking a strand of hair that’s fallen loose of your braid behind your ear. This newfound emotional distance has been hard on her, you know. It’s been hard on you, too. And though holding her at arm’s length has proven difficult at times, it feels somehow vital to your self-preservation.

“Don’t forget your shawl,” Hyeri says softly. “It’s gotten quite cold out there.”

It certainly has. The storm that ripped through the kingdom just days ago took the insufferable heat with it, leaving behind a pure, crystalline cold. The night sky is clear enough to see for miles. 

So you accept the shawl from Hyeri with a quiet thanks, avoiding her eyes as you slip out the chamber door.

By the time you make your way to the great hall, the revelry is already well underway. You can hear it pulsing through the slats of the heavy wooden doors, the music and commotion contained within powerful enough to stir the ground beneath your feet. The footmen posted at either side of the entrance bow deeply as you approach, then move to pull the doors open.

You raise a hand to still them, wanting a moment to steel yourself before entering the fray.

“I’m not – If you’ll just give me – ”

One of the guards steps forward to speak when your words falter.

“No need to explain, Your Grace,” he says earnestly. “Just let us know when you’re ready.”

“Thank you.” You take as deep a breath as your elaborate gown will allow. “Truly.”

You already know what awaits on the other side of those doors. Artificial smiles that hide whispers about your empty womb, honeyed and hollow words of praise from your exasperating husband. Pity too, perhaps, from those connected enough to be privy to the true state of your marriage. 

But you’ll bear it. You must. Because it’s what’s expected of you and because your political survival in this kingdom depends on it.

“Well then,” you say, smoothing down your velvet skirt with trembling hands. "I believe I've had time to collect myself."

The very same footman that had spoken to you just moments earlier gives you a sympathetic smile as he places one hand on the door’s ornate wrought iron handle. He pauses to look at you before signaling to the other footman, one brow raised as if to say are you sure?

You swallow thickly and nod your affirmation.

Slowly, the heavy doors are pulled open, creaking as they part. You step forward to enter, feeling a rush of cool air at your heels. The brief hush that falls over the great hall makes your heartbeat quicken.

But then the King stands. 

He rises to his feet and bows to you, and every person inside the great hall follows suit. You return his bow and then straighten, holding your head up high as you set off to fulfill your duty.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

The King makes no mention of the tense meal you’d shared just a few nights prior. Not that you’d expected him to. If anything, your husband’s predilection for avoidance has been one of his most consistent traits. And if he’s harbored any ill feelings about the curt words you’d spoken that night, surely they’ve been washed away in a torrent of ale.

He’s already a bit drunk when you take your seat beside him – pleasantly so, if his ruddy cheeks and leisurely smile are any indication. His dark eyes are glassy as they sweep over your form, taking in the grandeur of your dress. But they linger at your bust for just a heartbeat too long and it takes all the self-control you can muster to not kick him beneath the table.

“You look fetching in that dress,” the King notes, reaching for his tankard. “The color suits you.”

“Oh? Then you’ll be pleased to know I’ve dozens more just like it on the way.”

You startle a laugh from the King just as he’s taken a drink and he splutters on it, coughing until tears gather at the corners of his eyes. “Very good of you to warn me before the bill comes due,” he wheezes.

“But of course, Your Grace.” You infuse your words with cloying, contrived sweetness, putting a hand over your heart for emphasis. “It is the very least I could do.”

The King chuckles as you turn to look out over the room. 

The tables below the raised platform on which you both dine are teeming with people, their long wooden benches bowing beneath the substantial weight. They are littered with food and drink, tankards and platters and goblets scattered for as far as the eye can see. 

You sip your wine and watch partygoers reach over one another for noodles and steal dumplings from their neighbors’ plates.

It takes a minute for you to spot Boram. She and Lord Min are tucked into a corner, cozy and close. Your dear friend is the very picture of contentment; resplendent in a royal blue gown, glowing in the torchlight when her husband presses a kiss to her temple. Your heart aches as you watch them. What you would give to have what they have – to know the fulfillment they’ve found in one another.

In fact, the Mins make for such a compelling tableau that you nearly overlook the one behind it. Lord Jung is dressed in an arresting black and gold tunic, dark hair styled away from his face and a tankard of ale in his hand. And he is not alone.

Seated close to him – so very close – is a woman. A beautiful woman, as best you can tell from a distance. Her dark red dress in perfect contrast to her shiny fall of dark hair, the garment cut to accentuate what can only be described as a generous bust. She leans in to Lord Jung as she says something, décolletage on full display when she throws her head back to laugh.

Your grip on the wine goblet in your hand tightens.

The woman is brazen, that much you can tell. Her proximity to the Guardsman is far too close to be proper, her scandalous –  if stunning – manner of dress far too self-indulgent to be benign. And though you cannot make out clearly how she’s been received by Lord Jung, the very fact that he has not sent her away is telling. Is this the woman he intends to marry, then? Or just a diversion for the night? 

You drain the wine that remains in your goblet and signal for the serving girl to bring you more.

Moments later Lord Jung, too, flags down a passing servant to fill his tankard. For a man who once took great pride in extolling his discipline with spirits, he seems to be exercising very little of it tonight. In fact, he looks to be indulging as much or perhaps even more than his fellow Guardsmen. Perhaps that is why he does not he does not move to distance himself when the alluring woman at his side places a hand on his arm.

You swallow another large sip of wine.

“It’s nearly time for the evening’s entertainment,” the King says. “I think you’ll be impressed by what’s in store.”

You cannot tear your gaze from the scene before you. You cannot stop staring at the comely woman at Lord Jung’s side – stiffening in your seat when she leans over to whisper in his ear.

“I’m looking forward to it,” you say absentmindedly, lifting your wine glass to your lips once again.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

When you were a girl, barely ten years old, your father had come home from a long journey with a fantastic tale. 

He’d spoken of fire – in shades of red and green and gold – launched into the sky, embers raining down on the earth in a magnificent display. You’d been spellbound by the picture he’d painted for you, wishing desperately to see this phenomenon for yourself.

And now you have.

The King’s promise of a surprise well exceeds your expectations. Each new flare sent up over the open field is met with a hush from the crowd, followed by loud cheers and applause as it explodes into color.

“I brought them back from a village up North,” the King explains, preening at the crowd’s reception. “And though I wanted to show them right away, I made myself wait until the most advantageous time. What do you make of them?”

“They’re splendid,” you answer earnestly. “I’ve never seen anything so grand.”

The King hides a satisfied smile behind the rim of his tankard. By this point in the evening, he’s crossed the line from agreeably drunk to good and well soused – as have many of the others in attendance. You, too, are feeling the effects of your wine, experiencing that strange weightlessness that can only be brought on by drink.

And you are glad for the distraction of the fire display. 

It’s helped pull your focus away from Lord Jung and that woman. Though each time there is a brief break in the presentation, you cannot help but search the throng for any sign of them. You wonder where they are right now. What they might be doing. But then you drown the bitter thoughts with the wine in your goblet.    

The night wears on and the crowd around you becomes rowdier, louder – the ale barrels slowly disappearing one by one. Even the King is looking a bit worse for the wear. He’s sagged into the chair beside you, heavy-lidded as he watches the bright detonations that light up the sky.

You are not faring much better. A dull throb taps at your temples, no doubt the consequence of drinking too much wine, and you suspect that it will be far more pronounced come morning. You ought to retire for the evening now, while you still have some of your wits about you.

You open your mouth to say as much to the King at the very same time you catch sight of a slim man ambling away from the crowd. Though he’s hundreds of yards away and though there’s little light beyond the torches and the occasional embers in the sky, you recognize him right away. 

You would recognize him anywhere.

Impulsively, you get to your feet and utter a rushed goodbye to the King. He bids you farewell with a sluggish smile and not a moment later he’s gone back to gazing skyward, mesmerized by the lights. Just ahead, Lord Jung slinks off into the shadows, moving with an unsteady gait. 

And you follow him. To what end you cannot be sure.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Clearly, you’d given no real thought to this course of action. 

If you had, you’d not be scurrying across damp grass right now, struggling to keep your balance in your beautiful velvet dress. The heavy fabric weighs you down with each step, making each footfall precarious. In fact, if you’d stopped for even a moment to consider the implications of stealing away to pursue a man who is not your husband, you’d have ended this lunacy long before it even began.

But here you are in the dark, chasing after Lord Jung. With only the moon to light your way.

The slender man moves quickly, unburdened by the trappings of women’s formalwear and assisted by his long legs. You lift the hem of your dress off the ground and do your best to keep up on the shadowy path. Just a short distance ahead you can make out the lines of a thatched roof and wooden fence. 

It’s the stables, you realize, and the pieces start to fall into place.

He’s come here to meet that woman. The two of them must have agreed to leave the festival and come here for a secret tryst. Were you a woman in your right mind, that realization would stop you cold and send you running straight back to the castle. But you are absolutely not in your right mind. You are dangerous tonight; fearless from the wine flowing freely in your veins.

As such, the very thought of Lord Jung arranging for a passionate liaison with this woman has the opposite effect. It infuriates you. And you’ll not be satisfied until you can see the proof for yourself and then end this fixation once and for all.

Overhead, a flare of light illuminates the darkness just as you’re nearing the horse stalls. It’s followed by the sound of sizzling gunpowder, and it draws your attention skyward. You look up just in time to see wisps of fire tumble back to the earth. But when you fix your gaze forward again, Lord Jung is gone.

What on earth?

You’ve barely begun to consider your next move before your body is moving of its own volition, jerked right off the walking path by a hand that wraps around your arm like a band of steel. Lord Jung drags you behind the horse stall with one hand and claps the other over your mouth to smother the sound of hysteria that threatens to escape.

“What. Are. You. Doing?”

He hisses the words, one by one, his low vibrato thrumming with barely-contained anger. You’ve yet to recover from the shock of being accosted in the dark and so you stare at him, bewildered and mute.

He releases you, dropping the hand covering your mouth to walk to the edge of the stables. You watch as he ducks his head around the corner to check the walking path. Once he’s satisfied you’ve not been followed, he rounds on you.

“Anyone could have seen you.”

“No one saw me,” you scowl, finding your voice. You rub your forearm where his fingers dug painfully into your flesh. “They’re all far too drunk to see anything, I assure you.”

The Guardsman shoves a hand through his dark hair and exhales deeply.

“What are you about tonight, Your Grace?” 

A fair question, and one you ought to have considered before dashing off into the night. But you’d been so hellbent on hunting the man down that you’d given no real thought to what you’d do if you actually caught him. You hesitate for so long that he grows impatient, closing in on you.

“What,” he repeats slowly, “Are you about?”

“I don’t know,” you admit.

“Well, you ought to know,” he growls. “You ought to know damned well exactly what you’re about before you go off following men into the dark.”

But it’s not as though you’ve followed just any man into the dark, is it? You’d followed him. The admonishment riles you, bringing your temper back to a full boil. You straighten your spine and sear him with a withering look.

“That woman tonight. At the feast. She wants you to bed her.”

Lord Jung’s dark eyes go wide just before they narrow. He stalks towards you slowly, forcing you to retreat until your back is flush to the stable’s rough wooden slats. Slivers of moonlight play off his angular face, making the shadows in the hollows of his cheeks more pronounced.

He’s beautiful – even like this – even when he’s so irate that he can barely stand still.

“I know what she wants,” he murmurs, voice sinking to an octave that raises goosebumps on your arms. “What I do not know is what you want. What I do not know is why you are here.”

“So you intend to bed her,” you challenge.

Something dangerous flickers in the man's expression as he regards you, gaze potent enough to almost make you regret your sudden bout of daring. Almost.

“No.”

And so there is no tryst. No agreement between secret lovers. Adrenaline floods your veins, bringing with it a clarity that you’ve not had since you began drinking tonight. You’ve been reckless – so, so reckless – and now there is no undoing what you’ve done. 

“I’ve answered your question and now you will answer mine,” Lord Jung warns, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “What. Do. You. Want?”

All the fire has left you now. Whatever force possessed you to confront this man in this way has disappeared, leaving behind only a sickly taste in your mouth. You’ll feel more than just the wine in the morning, you know it. 

“Brave enough to follow me into the dark, brave enough to demand I explain my plans for bedsport,” he continues, brows knit as he stares you down. “But somehow, not brave enough to tell me what you’re doing here in the first place.”

“I – ” 

“Tell me then,” he goads, growing more agitated by the minute. “Open your mouth and speak. Tell me why you’re here. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to kiss me.”

You ought to have slapped him across the face. At the very least, you would have earned the look he’s giving you right now – this frozen mask of incredulity that’s come over him. He backs away from you slowly, as though poised to run. But he doesn’t.

“You’re mad.”

“I am not mad,” you say evenly, with a poise you’d not thought yourself capable of. “You asked me what I want and I’ve told you. I want you to kiss me.”

Another burst of color explodes in the sky. A loud cheer goes up over the field nearby, a disquieting reminder of the hundreds of people milling about just a short walk away. The commotion seems to sober him.

“Go home, Your Grace.” His words are strangled, forced. “You are playing with fire. You have no idea what you’re doing here.”

You stiffen, lifting your nose in the air. 

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” you lie.

Your insistence only serves to make him even more agitated. He begins to pace back and forth, glowering at you as he moves.

“Go back to your castle, Your Grace. Go back to your fine life and your fine things and no one will ever be the wiser.”

“I will not,” you refuse, petulant.

Lord Jung delivers his last blow, the fatal one, in a voice so graveled it sounds as though the words are spoken by a stranger. And perhaps he is a stranger, this man you’ve been so infatuated with. Perhaps he’s nothing like what you’ve made him in your own mind.

“Go back to your husband,” he growls. “Your King.”

Your humiliation is instant and acute. You burn with it, the embarrassment so all-consuming that it nearly makes you see stars. You can hear the blood rushing in your ears, feel your heart pounding in your throat when you finally manage to speak.

“The King doesn’t want me,” you say stiffly. “Though I am certain you already know that.”

“The King is a fool!” he explodes, surging forward and slamming his hands down on either side of you. The outburst is violent enough to shake the horse stall and the venom in his countenance nearly makes you come out of your skin. His mouth hovers terrifyingly close to yours, so close that you can nearly taste the ale on his breath. You stop breathing altogether. 

Then he wrenches himself away from you, staggering backwards as though he’s been burned.

“And so am I.”

i’d love to hear from you about this chapter! you can talk to me here. otherwise, i hope you enjoyed it and only the final chapter is left 💕

#hoseok smut #j-hope smut #bts smut #hoseok x reader #j-hope x reader #bts x reader #hoseok #bts hoseok #bts x you #hoseok x you #bts scenarios #bts au #hoseok imagine #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub #bangtan

[beautifulfuckup99]

**Just a thought: #1**

Might make this a regular thing on my page. Little scenarios that pass through my mind, and unless said other ways, these are gonna be really basic so ya’ll can imagine any of the members in this. Ok? So, for this one, Y/N is at the Yoongi concert and yes, this is based off of Yoongi’s final show last night.

Hope you enjoy!

________________________________________________________________

Tonight had been so freeing. You were finally able to see one of your boys live in concert, and you felt so at home. You were surrounded by other ARMY members, and everyone was screaming the lyrics and you couldn’t help but fall into the energy of tonight and do it as well. 

You’ve been dancing and singing the night away for almost the entire night. At a certain point, Yoongi makes an announcement that he’s not alone tonight and that his ‘brother’ had shown up to support. Everyone starts screaming and you look at the jumbo screen to see (Insert your bias here) on the screen, waving and laughing at the fans’ reactions.

You scream too in excitement before you see some fans turning to face you, freaking out. You’re confused till you turn your head and see him standing in the row behind yours. Your eyes widen. 

Had he been there all night?!

You instantly feel embarrassed for your off-key singing and bad dance moves. You duck down fast so fans can take pictures and videos of him without you in the way, blocking him. He laughs a bit more at your reaction.

“The floor is dirty. Don’t do that...” He says and offers you his hand to help you back up to your feet. Your eyes widen a bit, and for a moment, you wonder if you’re dreaming. Maybe in reality, you had passed out from the shock and embarrassment of it all and this was some fantasy.

But when you slowly grab his hand, it’s warm and... real. So very real. “T-Thank you.” You smile nervously and give a quick bow out of respect. There’s so much you want to say in this one little moment. So much you want to tell him, but he’s not here for you. And His security guard, who’s off to the side too, is eyeing you. One wrong move and you’re done for. So, you slowly turn back around as some fans grab you and gush over him touching you.

“Hey! Ok, ok. Look at me. My show.” Yoongi complains playfully into the mic and the crowd laughs. “We’re gonna... Slow things down right now.” He nods and grabs the mic before walking over to the piano.

You watch as fans pull out their ARMY bombs to wave in the air, and you sigh deeply. Those things are too freaking expensive for you, so you pull out your phone to use the flashlight setting when you feel a pat on your shoulder. You turn your head and come face to face with him again. Your bias...

“I can share.” He chuckles softly and hands you his ARMY bomb and you almost don’t want to even consider grabbing it. 

“That... That’s ok. I-” He cuts you off.

“Don’t make me beg.” He laughs softly. “Take it.” He smiles at you and your heart flutters before you slowly and sheepishly grab it from him.

“Thank you.” You say fast and bow your head quickly again.

“Just... One thing.” He says before you can turn back around fully. You turn to face him fast.

“Yeah?” You ask, voice softer than you expected due to the literal awestruck feeling drowning you now.

“Keeping singing and dancing. It’s cute.” He says bashfully and your eyes widen a bit, and for a second, you don’t believe your own ears, but you nod fast as his security tells him he needs to go backstage to get ready for his appearance. He nods to his head of security, but turns back to you as they begin escorting him out of his row. 

“Uh... What’s your name?” He asks.

You hesitate for only a second before blurting it out. “Y/N Y/L/N.” You say fast, eyes still slightly wide at this encounter.

“I’m (Insert Bias Name Here).” He says politely and you wanna snort at the obvious fact stated. 

‘No shit...’ You think, but don’t dare say that out loud. “Nice to meet you...” You giggle instead and he holds out his hand. You’re quick to shake it, not wanting to come off as too awkward.

“Nice to meet you too. Y/N.” He nods with a friendly smile before he gets led away, leaving you standing there astonished.

Did that just happen?!

#bts #bts fic #bts imagine #bts jungkook #rm bts #BTS jimin #namjoon imagine #jin imagine #yoongi imagine #j hope imagine #jimin imagine #taehyung imagine #jungkook imagine #bts jhope #bts jin #bts yoongi #bts taehyung #bts jung jungkook

[taeandpuppies]

What your cameraroll looks like if you're dating Jung Hoseok

#bts imagines #jhope #hoseok #jhope imagine #jhope fluff #bts #jhope scenarios #bts scenario #jung hoseok #j hope #jhope boyfriend #bts fluff

[btsmosphere]

autumn with: hobi

~pairing: hobi x reader ~word count: 2.5k (bullet fic!) ~genre: fluff fluff and more fluff, college au, friends to lovers ~rating: g (no warnings:))

a look at autumn and halloween with our beloved hobi! since I’m feeling very fall lately, I went on a hunt and found some lovely prompt lists from @crockettmarcel @flufftober and @lavenderotpprompts 💜I shook them all together to make a snippet of autumn for each of the boys- at the end, I’ll include the list I put together for hobi!

also a thank you to @moccahobi​ and @ssaboala​ for reading this and helping keep me in the autumn spirit!! I really appreciate it🥰

autumn with: masterlist

Everyone moves back into the dorm for the start of term in September

It’s not the dramatic reunion some might think, everyone turns up in dribs and drabs instead of all arriving at once

You chose to head back pretty early

In fact, so early that you aren’t sure anyone else is here yet

Well, someone has to be the first, right?

It feels a bit barren, but it’s quiet and there’s something nice in that too. You stop for a bit in the hallway between all the rooms, where there are big windows and you can see the trees, the ends of the leaves starting to curl and brown

A huge cacophony of what sounds like the kitchen falling down shakes you

After a moment frozen, you turn towards the sound

It definitely came from the kitchen

But the door is still standing there as if nothing happens

Is there a ghost in your dorm? Should you have stayed back and waited until there was safety in numbers? Is this the beginning of your very own horror movie??

A loud curse echoes from the kitchen and you laugh instead

Hobi.

When you enter the kitchen, you find flour splatted on the floor, upturned bowl and one Jung Hoseok with his hair sticking up- you’re pretty sure he’s run his floury fingers through it, unless he’s going for some reverse Guy Fieri look

Unable to control your laughter, you set to work together

Hobi wants to make cookies

Shouldn’t be too hard

He has a goal this year, he says. He’s going to take up baking as a hobby so he can feed everyone nice things

You have to admit, when he lists off the cinnamon buns, apple pies and chocolate brownies he wants to make, you find your mouth watering. So you’re going to help him make those darn cookies

Your intervention might be the only thing that gets them out alive, to be honest

But Hobi is grinning so widely when you finally get to bite into them that you encourage him to bake something else soon

It’s been a long time away, and the plate of cookies doesn’t make it to the morning, having been slowly eaten by you two as you stayed curled up over the kitchen table cradling hot chocolates and laughing at each other

The kitchen lights were warm while it was dark outside. Now the morning light is the opposite, cold and pale as it wakes to frostbitten lawns

Hobi crawls out of bed while you’re blearily snacking on cereal

The moment he sees you, he yells and pulls back, hiding behind the door with just his face and fluffy hair visible

Oh. He’s topless

“I got flour on my only top,” he complains, “I haven’t unpacked anything yet.”

You call him a lazybones, but still go to fish something out of your wardrobe

It’s on the bigger side, but cropped, and he looks a little funny wearing it. Your style is so different from his, but he doesn’t complain

He eats toast and looks thoroughly adorable, dammit

It’s October before he completely unpacks

It’s chaotic, but you turn a blind eye. At least he’s done it now, and won’t have to go rooting through a suitcase every time he wants something

You should have foreseen, though, that with one victory, that only leaves something else weird to happen instead

You can never escape the weird

Not with Hobi

Which is why you’re staring at him now, stuck between shock and laughter

He’s in the kitchen, having forcibly sat you down to watch his fashion show, and right now you don’t think he could physically be wearing any more jumpers

You fend off the laughter and go straight for incredulity

“What are you doing?”

“It’s sweater season!” he defends himself

“It’s not even that cold out! And we’re not even out!”

“Let’s change that, then”

He clearly ignored the first part of your argument, but here you are outside, winding between the trees away from your dorm

Okay, so maybe it is a little chilly out

But there’s no way you’ll give that to Hobi. He’s still wearing entirely too many sweaters, even after you made him take some off

Anyway, you bite your lip. He’s having fun- his cheeks are round and a bit red as he smiles, looking around. He breathes in, rubbing his hands together and looking like all is right with the world now autumn in on its way

Then a leaf smacks him in the face

He flails around for a split second, blowing little raspberries as a defense mechanism against the onslaught of the leaf

All the while, you howl with laughter until he turns to you with a pout

It only makes you laugh more

“Autumn loves you as much as you love it!” you giggle

Hobi folds his arms, as far as the sweater bundle will let him

“I bet you can’t catch a leaf”

So now you’re running around like a lunatic

How did it end up this way, with Hobi laughing at you?? He’s the weird one

Your weird friend is lying back on a leafy carpet when you skip over, triumphantly holding a bright red leaf above your head

He struggles to sit up, but claps and woops for you

He has to clap with his arms straight

To save him the trouble, you flop down next to him, panting little gusts into the air

They show up in front of your nose, ghostly and lingering in the air; is it really that cold already?

It probably has something to do with the fact it’s also getting dark now, but neither of you move

Clouds drift over, just as lazy as you

You’ve been there a while, and you aren’t out of breath any more. The air is cool as it fills your lungs

Whispering leaves announce Hobi rolling over to face you

“Are you cold?”

And you’ve been so busy feeling warm inside at the afternoon filled with giggles and the prospect of autumn setting in that you hadn’t noticed

But cold is a side effect of the season

You were only shivering a bit

He smothers your protests and denial, knowing it’s only a bid to keep up your disdain at his outfit

His smug grin won’t let you forget about it when he finally thrusts a woolly cardigan over you, practically lying on top of you now, the result of your scrambling playfight that, admittedly, may have defeated the need of a warm jumper

Now that you have it though, it’s not bad, though no substitute for his warmth which leaves as he slides off to sit on the ground beside you

You cuddle into the material like Hobi had earlier, and he glows

The rest of the day is warm, even as light leaks from the sky

You’re back in the warm kitchen with warm food and warm laughter

And all the way until Halloween you’re caught up in the whirlwind of Hobi

It’s a budget Halloween, of course. You’re students, after all

Luckily, as Hobi puts it, some of the trees nearby are apple trees, and he’s hell-bent on apple bobbing on Halloween

“It’s only right,” he’ll say

And of course you’ll go along with it. One look at his hopeful grin is always enough to get you agreeing to his hairbrained schemes

No one knows if it’s legal to take or eat the apples, being on public property

Or if they’re edible

But surely all apples are edible?

You hope so, you think gingerly as you place another one in your bag

It may have looked more picture-perfect with those cute baskets, or if you were in a meadow, but instead your friends are all clustered under a line of apple trees that grow along the road, putting the apples into your backpacks like it’s something shady, underhand

Just as you reach for another, Hobi shrieks, and from your position sitting on his shoulders you wobble perilously

Looking around in alarm, you grab at his bobble hat for stability, feeling him clutch tighter to your legs

Somehow, you both stay upright as Tae runs off giggling, being shooed by Jin

“What if yn dropped an apple on his head, you punk!” he was yelling, “we don’t need to re-discover the theory of gravity!”

“Got enough?” Hobi asks

Confirming, you let him crouch to put you down

You’re both a little breathless

“Let’s see”

He bends closer, pulling your backpack open to see the shining apples nestled there

“I’ll make a good pie with these,” he promises

You give him a look

“I really will this time!” he exclaims at that, “the brownies were an exception!”

Chuckling, you acquiesce

“Alright,” this is how it always goes, “I trust you”

In the end, the home-made Halloween is great

Everyone has decorated their doorway – though you wonder how many Hobi actually helped with – and you take turns rushing up and down, calling ‘trick or treat’ like little kids

Of course, you all have costumes, as well as little bags for sweets, which are only plastic bags from the supermarket, but Hobi glued little paper fangs onto the top

Hobi’s a witch, and his black cloak swooshes out behind him

Of course this means he won’t stop running up and down the hall even after the lot of you have squished together in a pile to eat sweets in the kitchen

“I’ll eat all of yours!” Jimin threatens

This brings Hobi dashing back again

The evening is fun and full of you and Hobi feeding each other sweets, pretending you aren’t giving him the ones you know he likes the most

“ugh, another one of these, I don’t like them that much”

You’re not sure if he believes you

The others certainly don’t, but you ignore the way they look at you as you hold another up to Hobi’s lips

Hobi swears off the horror film later, but you follow him to the kitchen

Honestly, it’s out of fear for the apple pie

And nothing else at all

You laugh together and steal some of the leftover sweets as he makes it through one failed batch of dough

Namjoon goes to bed

You’re pretty sure the others have fallen asleep in the living room

They can have some pie tomorrow, if it ever gets made. Or if it does, then if it isn’t all eaten before they can get to it

This time around, Hobi deems the batch successful and finally it’s in the oven, complete with strawberry jam leaking out of the sides

“It has to look spooky!”

Hobi falls into a chair beside you, covered in flour and fruit and looking much better than he has any right to

“Let’s go outside, the pie has to bake for a while”

You don’t question your enthusiasm to go with him

At this point, you get excited along with him, and after seeing how brilliant the stars look, you can only half concentrate

Staring at him instead is just as tempting

You know the joy you’ll find there

It’s darker as you pass under the trees, further from the building

Still you don’t look away

Did you see that?”

Hobi gasps, a hand flying out to catch your own

His fingers around soft around your wrist, and slip down to grasp your hand

Eventually, he brings his gaze back to earth, frowning around at you

Blinking, you realise he asked you something

“See what?”

Your voice is no more than a breath in the air

All he says is “look”

There are other things you would rather look at, but you turn your head to the sky

You’ve stopped walking at this point, just standing still among the leaves

The tree branches stretch into the sky, much thinner than they used to look

You breathe

Hobi’s hand is still holding yours, calling you back to earth, but you force your eyes to search the heavens a bit more

You’re about the ask Hobi what he’s on about when you see it, at last

A flicker, quick enough that you could have missed it in a blink

Satisfied, Hobi turns to you

This time, it’s his turn to admire your face as it transforms, disbelief to wonder

“Was that-?”

“A shooting star!”

You wonder if he really was a witch, and if so what kind of spell he cast to make this Halloween work out so well

He holds his hand out

Doesn’t even ask

Without knowing, you realise your trust has grown well enough, so firm within your chest, that you take it without a second thought

And now you’re dancing

He really loves this cape, and spins you around as an excuse to make it fly behind him

Almost losing your balance, you grab him harder, laughing

And he pulls you closer once you stand up

Your feet are scuffling in the broken leaves like so many times before as you messed around

You trip and lose the rhythm, and spin too many times that you should stop, but you end up dizzy with a wide grin

When he kisses you, it’s like you had done it a hundred times before

No questions in your mind, you lean in more, hands sliding into the warmth under his silly cloak. And you wonder if you’re really just dizzy from spinning

The apple pie burns

You and Hobi still eat it, and the inside is really very nice

Like you would have before, you share spoonfuls, eating the whole thing over gossip and laughter

Only this time, you curl in his lap, and then he in yours because it gets uncomfy

In the morning, Namjoon finds everyone out of bed, sleeping on the sofas or the kitchen table, as is your case

And no one is surprised, or seems to bat an eye beyond smiling at the two of you

You wrap up in each other’s clothes, and walk under the trees, and dance, and suffer the results of baking- which will get better, he promises every single time

And you trust him

Thank you for reading!! this was made with the following prompts: baking - back to school/university – “I bet you can’t catch a leaf” - wearing someone else’s clothes - trick or treating - apple picking – warmth - “it’s sweater season!” - “are you cold?” - “I trust you” - shooting stars - first dance

If you enjoyed this, a comment would be so appreciated, it makes it all worth it🥰🥰 find my other autumn drabbles here

taglist: @aianloveseven @preciouschimine​ send me a message if you want to be tagged in my “autumn with” updates!!

#bangtanarmynet #j hope imagine #bts imagine #bts fanfction #bts halloween #jhope scenarios #jhope fluff #j hope fluff #bts fluff #autumn fluff #j hope x reader #hoseok x reader #jung hoseok fluff #jung hoseok x reader #bts college au

[likeastarstar]

2:00 AM - Hoseok

can be read alone but fits into my lotus eaters plot line which can be read here: X

It's 2AM and you're thinking about it again.

It's 2AM and you're thinking about him again.

Thinking about him and it and whether or not you should, whether or not you could go see Hoseok.

It was too late at night for you to still be awake but you couldn't help it, couldn't fall asleep, felt stuck in your own thoughts because it's 2AM again and you're thinking about the last time you were up this late.

Last time he was behind you and you could watch him through the mirror. You liked it like that, when you could see him and every move of his body, the way his hips rolled into you and everything he did to you. You liked being able to watch his face change, screwed up with tension and lust. You liked that he always looked at you like he loved you- even if you knew he didn't.

It didn't matter that he didn't love you, you didn't love him either. How could you? He wasn't your boyfriend. Your boyfriend was lying asleep, completely oblivious halfway across town as you spent the night in Hoseok's bed instead.

"I told you I'd come," You whispered in his ear, a proud look on your face. "All you ever say is 'come and see me for once' so here I am."

"Here you are," He mumbled, smiling as he kissed you.

You could hear your phone buzzing in the background, a vague reminder that you weren't where you were supposed to be right now. Hoseok snapped his head towards the sound, flicking his head back to you with a daring look on his face. You ignored it and rolled your hips against him instead, pushing your tits up into him.

"Ignore it," You ordered.

"Is it bad that I want you to answer it?" He laughed softly, leaning in to kiss you again, "That I kinda wanna keep him on the phone while I fuck you? Wanna let him guess who's making you feel so good, making you moan like that until you say my name?"

"You're evil," You gasped, feeling his tongue lick against the lobe of your ear and nip you with his teeth.

"Don't act like you it doesn't turn you on just to think about it," Hoseok swiped, "Not my fault he can't make you cum."

You gave him a pointed look that he ignored in favor of pulling you closer to him, "Stay with me this weekend."

"I'm going home, remember?" You said, thinking of the plane tickets waiting to be printed out at your apartment. "I just came to say goodbye."

"But how will you ever survive entire weekend away from me?" He said dramatically.

"I think I'll live," You sassed, rolling your eyes.

"Fine, I'll just have to convince you in other ways," He bargained, wandering hands finding your ass.

Your body hummed and melted into his, pliant under his touch because he could ask anything of you and you'd do it. You'd break up with your boyfriend if he asked you to- not that he did.

You knew he was right, knew that Hoseok wasn't the relationship type and pretending like he was wouldn't do you any favors. Being in love with him would be like flying too close to the sun- you'd wind up burned.

But it burned anyway, being each other's secret, watching girls throw themselves at him and watching him bask in it. You wondered if it made him jealous, knowing you had someone else calling you theirs. You never bothered to ask whether it did or not, he'd lie and say no regardless.

Not that it mattered, he was yours when he fucked you like that. You made him say it, forcing it out of him when his defenses were down and he was completely out of it, practically willing to sign his life away if you asked him sweet enough.

You laid in bed, staring at the clock on the wall flicking hands past 2AM, wondering when you'd fall asleep.

If you asked, would he come see you?

You should stop seeing Hoseok.

You should feel guilty about cheating on your boyfriend. You needed to move on, had to stop feeling so insane, completely out of your body.

"Hi."

"It's 2AM," Hoseok grunted out, his voice gravely and deep through the phone.

"I know," You mumbled, "I can't sleep."

"You want me to come over?" He asked immediately, making you smile.

You bit your lip, "You think I'm needy, don't you?"

"No, I'm just wondering if your boyfriend knows you're a sex addict." Hoseok laughed and you could hear him getting out of bed, the sound of fabric swishing softening his words.

"I think I'm addicted to you, not sex, but can you blame me?" You breathed out, "Don't you need me just as badly?"

Please say yes.

Hoseok was quiet for a moment, the jingling of keys warming your heart, "I wouldn't be putting on pants in the middle of the night if I didn't. I'll be there in 10 minutes, okay?"

"Just as long as you come," You nodded, hanging up quickly.

You couldn't decide whether you believed him or not, not that it mattered.

masterlist.

#bts drabble #bts timestamps #bts fic #bts smut #hoseok one shot #hoseok au #hoseok x y/n #hoseok x oc #hoseok x you #hoseok x reader #j hope imagine #j hope x you #hoseok imagine #jung hoseok smut #bts imagines #bts one shot