#edit: ​also… ‘of course this would happen’ he rly thinks anyone who gets close to him dies huh. or mayb that he just can’t have good things.

[moxie-girl]

DRDT SPOILERS!

also hey. do we think the reason for David’s “people never change” breakdown is bc of what Arei said to him and then she immediately got killed? goddd do we think he genuinely wanted to believe what she was saying a little bit??? we never saw his face in that scene… and then she shows up dead - the very next day! - kinda like Xander… he’s this close to a breakdown I can feel ittt

[ugh-yoongi]

hi,,,^♡︎^

could u do,,, a scenario where hobi and the reader are both dancers and they’re choreographing as mentors or smith???

thank u sm💔

hello~ thank u so much for the request! sorry it took me a while, but i hope u enjoy it ♡

pairing: hoseok x reader

wc: 2.6k

warnings: kinda enemies 2 lovers vibes, swearing, jikook are rivals, i mention tiktok more in this fic than i have in my entire life, i didn't rly edit this so if there are mistakes no there aren't, fluff?? this is an easy read.

There’s a reason you don’t like working with solo idols.

There are a lot of reasons, actually, but the main one is currently sprawled on the floor, chest heaving as he scrolls through his phone. Shirt soaked through with sweat. Scowl on his face. Pointedly ignoring your demands for him to get up and go through the choreography one more time.

“I’m tired,” he huffs.

You roll your eyes. “I don’t care.”

Jeongguk looks like you’ve just slapped him. “You’re fired.”

Stalking over to him, you kick him in the shin. “Get up, Jeongguk. You specifically requested to work with me. Stop wasting my time.”

With a groan, he pushes himself into a sitting position solely so he can glare at you more effectively. “Yeah, because you-know-who hired you-also-know-who and I need to keep up. If I have to read one more fucking article about him being the better performer, I’m going to—”

“Park Jimin is also a brat,” you retort, grabbing the back of his shirt to haul him up. “You want to be a better person than him, right?” Jeongguk seems to mull this over. Pushes his tongue into the fat of his cheek and nods. “Great, then get your shit together and stop complaining.”

Jeongguk does not stop complaining, but at least he gets his shit together. The two of you occupy the practice room long into the night, going over the choreography time and time again. It’s nearing two-o’clock in the morning by the time you call it, sending him off with a thinly-veiled threat that you’ll see him in two days and he better stay on top of the routine.

What you get in return is a first-class view of Jeongguk’s back as he stomps out of the room, nothing but his middle finger and an irked do you think Park Jimin takes days off? tossed over his shoulder before he disappears.

There’s a reason you don’t go after him, and it’s this:

You get it.

The mutual beef he has with Park Jimin? The one that probably started off as this innocent thing not to be taken seriously before oops, it took on a life of its own and now it’s Very Serious? Yeah, that’s you and Jung Hoseok, too. Jimin and Jeongguk are the two hottest soloists in the industry, and you and Hoseok are the two hottest choreographers. Anyone who’s anyone works with Jimin and Jeongguk and Hoseok and you. So, Jimin and Hoseok? You and Jeongguk? Unheard of. Groundbreaking. A cultural reset. A trending topic for weeks.

You’ll deal with Jeongguk’s attitude if it means besting Hoseok once again.

On and on it’ll go, ad nauseum, until one of you finally calls it quits.

(Won’t be you, though. RIP to Hoseok’s career, but you’re built different.)

Still, you stare dumbfounded at the door, Jeongguk long gone, taking the last few strands of your sanity with him. “Fuck this,” you grumble as you begin to collect your things. “Girl groups only from now on.”

***

Running into Hoseok, purposely or accidentally, is not something that happens often.

However, when it does, it goes a lot like this:

“Fuck off, Hoseok.”

You spare a smile for the barista and grab your coffee. Jeongguk had texted you in a panic, said the café at the company was temporarily closed for cleaning, and since you’re much less famous and therefore able to go out in public, would you please grab him an iced americano on your way in? No mention of repayment, of course, because Jeongguk is a brat.

Hoseok chuckles from behind you, low and raspy in a way someone so insufferable has no right to sound. “Don’t be like that. All I did was ask how you are.”

You spin on your heel. Some petty, oft-used part of you hopes you’ll slip and spill Jeongguk’s coffee so you have nothing to give him, but you’ve been cursed with a dancer’s balance. “Right, and you don’t give a shit how I am, so you see my issue.”

He’s leaning against a table, a long-sleeved shirt and a loose pair of joggers dwarfing his lithe frame. That demonic Supreme headband is keeping his hair out of his face and you have to suppress a shudder. Hoseok may not be your favorite person, doesn’t even crack the top fifty, but you’ve got eyes. “Heard you’re working with Jeon Jeongguk.”

“Your point?” you prompt. A text comes through on your watch from the man in question: a ‘HELLO?? COFFEE????’ that you ignore.

You know Hoseok’s trying to get under your skin. He confirms as much when he says, “That’s a big get for you, huh? Taking a break from making the girl groups do half-assed hip thrusts so they don’t get banned from TV?”

Still, you can’t help but stoop. “You’re talking real big for a guy who got fired by the last girl group he worked with. If you can’t choreograph women just say that, Hoseok.”

Despite this rivalry being long-lasting and perpetual, Hoseok seems taken aback by your jab, like he didn’t expect you to be so blunt. His face falls for half a second, blink and you’ll miss it, and he resets it into something unaffected and cool. “I can choreograph women just fine,” he hisses. “Don’t forget—”

“The routine you did for that one group that became a TikTok trend.” You wave your hand in dismissal. “Yeah, yeah. You don’t forget who had to clean up your mess after you got fired. Took me weeks to sort out that mess.”

Hoseok doesn’t respond, just situates his drinks in the cardboard carrying tray and glares at you all the way to the door.

You wonder, briefly, if Jimin pays him back when Hoseok buys him coffee.

***

There’s a reason you don’t like working with solo idols.

“It’s not good enough.”

You take a deep breath. Try to remember all those calming mantras you used to do back when you still had time to attend your yoga classes. It doesn’t work. Weeks of pent-up frustration quickly heats to a rapid boil. Your body flushes hot, anger licking at your heels. It’s not Jeongguk’s fault, not really. It’s not even that the choreography truly isn’t good enough, it’s just—

“You saw his Studio Choom performance, right?”

Of course you had. Viral would be an understatement, and you knew as soon as you’d watched it what a headache it’d be for you. ‘Choreographer—JUNG HOSEOK’ had just been the shit icing on top of a shit cake. “Yep.”

“Then you understand why this routine isn’t good enough.” Jeongguk grimaces a little as he sees the expression on your face, immediately apologetic. “Sorry. It’s not you, I promise, it’s just—”

Jaw clenched, you restart the song. “Run it through again.”

“But—”

Truth be told, you’re kind of tired of everyone second-guessing your direction. Hoseok thinks he’s better than you, Jeongguk thinks he knows better than you. “The choreo is good. Better than good. If you want to change it, do it yourself. Otherwise, run it through again.”

A beat of silence. Jeongguk looks like he wants to challenge you, wants to find the bruise and press on it, but he doesn’t. Just pushes his sweaty hair off his forehead and gets into position.

***

“You look rough.”

You don’t bother looking up from your phone. You’d know that voice anywhere. “Ah. Well, I’m about to look a whole lot worse now that my sleep paralysis demon is here.”

Hoseok snorts, helping himself to the empty chair across from you. “Don’t be like that. I’m trying to be nice.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “You’re never nice. What do you want?”

“Nothing,” he answers, hands held up in defense. “I just saw you sitting here—”

“Looking rough,” you interject.

Hoseok nods. “Right, looking rough. And I thought to myself, ‘Wow, she looks like shit. I should see if she’s okay.’”

Irritation needles along your skin. “Well, good news: I’m fine, so you can fuck off.”

“You don’t look fine,” Hoseok says. He pops the lid off his coffee and dumps two sugars in. “Trouble in paradise with Jeongguk?”

Yes, you want to say. Nothing’s good enough and we spend all day talking in circles. I’m questioning my work and my worth and they’re not paying me enough for this bullshit. I haven’t slept properly in weeks. My entire body aches. “Jeongguk’s fine,” you say instead. “How’s Jimin?”

Hoseok studies you for a moment. Seems to see something floating just beneath the surface because he says, “Jimin’s fine,” and, somehow, you get it.

***

The next time you run into Hoseok, you don’t even have the energy to exchange barbed jabs.

You’re exhausted, to put it mildly. Beyond exhausted; something that’s bypassed your muscles and tendons and settled into your bones. Jeongguk hasn’t let up. Whatever Jimin does, he has to do ten times better, and the problem with that is it’s just not possible. Jeongguk is talented in the same ways Jimin is. They’re never going to outdo each other the way Jeongguk wants to.

No sense trying to explain that to Jeongguk, though. His skull is way too thick.

“I don’t have the energy to deal with you.”

Hoseok snorts. Sets a large coffee in front of you and doesn’t say a word about it. Just sets it down like he buys you coffee all the time and this is totally normal for the dynamic you have. “Good, because I don’t either.”

You hum. “Did you poison this?” you ask, peering into the cup. It’s exactly what you would’ve ordered for yourself.

“Only one way to find out.”

Traitor, your brain chastises as you laugh at Hoseok’s retort. “At this point, I think I’d walk willingly into death’s embrace.”

“That seems dramatic.”

You think about all the nights spent in the rehearsal space, Jeongguk red in the face as he watches some stupid TikTok video Jimin uploaded that he’s decided to take personal. You think about all the pitying looks your cat gives you when you don’t stumble into your apartment until 3AM. You think about all the coffees Jeongguk still hasn’t paid you back for. “Is it, though?”

Hoseok seems to be going through it, too. “Hm. Maybe not.”

“Working with Jimin is fucking awful,” Hoseok continues, his confession soft around the edges like his mouth is tired, too. “He keeps saying nothing’s good enough, that Jeongguk is doing this and Jeongguk is doing that. Like, wow, fuck me, I guess. Didn’t know I was hired solely to contribute to this weird vendetta you’ve got.”

“Jeongguk’s doing the same thing.”

“Really?” Hoseok asks, the surprise evident on his face.

You nod, taking a cautious sip from your coffee. Not that you care if it’s poisoned, but you’d like to avoid burning your tongue if you can. “Yeah. I’ve been spending sixteen hour days in the studio with him because he’s not satisfied with anything. Keeps watching all those fucking TikToks Jimin’s been posting.”

Head thunking onto the table, Hoseok lets out a strained groan. “He only started posting them because Jeongguk did first.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you nearly whine, “because now I’m gonna have to kill him, and I really don’t want to go to prison. I won’t survive in there.”

Hoseok picks up his head just enough to smile at you. “Yeah. You don’t really have a face for prison.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“You know.” He gestures vaguely, cheeks reddening. “People in prison look like Post Malone.”

“So I should or I shouldn’t get the face tattoos?”

Hoseok clicks his tongue. “That’s a trap. You’d never catch me out here telling someone what to do with their body.”

The real trap, you think, is that fucking smile of his.

***

You don’t see Hoseok again until the end of season award shows.

You put on a pretty dress and have your hair and makeup done to perfection. You mingle and schmooze and make small talk with the people you’re seated next to. You watch Jimin perform with a polite smile. You watch Jeongguk perform with your heart in your throat. You watch both of them win and accept awards with what you’re sure is a pinched expression that belies your relief.

It’s over.

You never have to work with Jeongguk again.

“Back to girl groups?” Hoseok asks. The two of you have found yourselves alone in front of the hors d'oeuvre table, the draw of the bruschetta too strong to ignore.

You shrug. “I’m taking some time off to work on my failing mental health.”

“Good for you,” Hoseok says, smiling around a meatball on a toothpick. “Self-care and all that shit.”

“Mm, maybe, although I think it’s more like self-repair. What about you?”

The thing about Hoseok is that he always seems to catch you off guard. Always makes the move you least expect. It used to bother you, used to get under your skin something terrible, but now, when he says, “I’m working with Jeongguk for his next music video,” all you do is laugh.

“Good luck,” you say, reaching over and squeezing his bicep, and you’re surprised to find that you mean it.

***

Jeongguk’s video turned out brilliantly.

So brilliantly, in fact, that you and Hoseok have found yourselves here: as dance mentors on a competition show.

No one’s better than the two of you, the producers had said. The hottest in the industry. Please come work on the show. We’ll pay you well. The contract is three months. No overtime.

Three months of getting home on time? Three months of being able to turn down all those girl groups and their half-assed hip thrusts and those solo idols with weird grudges? Three months of having enough time to go back to your yoga classes? Three months of not having to see your cat’s judgmental glare? Yeah, you’d take that deal a million times over.

Now you’re sitting on an uncomfortable wooden stool with a clipboard in your lap, Hoseok diligently jotting down notes on your right. The studio lights are unbearably hot and have sweat pricking at your skin and you send up a silent prayer that the makeup artist used that good setting spray you like.

“What’d you think about the second girl?” he asks. He’d foregone the contacts today, a pair of thick-rimmed frames sliding down the perfect slope of his nose. When you don’t answer, his brows knit in confusion. He snaps his fingers. “Hello? You in there?”

“Sorry. What’d you say?”

But Hoseok’s a bastard. Puts on a shit-eating grin and double-checks to make sure the cameras aren’t rolling. “I asked what you’re doing after this.”

That doesn’t sound right, but it’s not like you’d been paying enough attention to refute it. “Oh. Nothing, I guess. I was probably gonna grab a takeaway on my way home and hang out with my cat.”

“Ugh,” he retorts with a fake gag. “What are you, sixty years old? Live a little. Come to dinner with me.”

Now it’s your turn to fake gag. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you like me now,” he answers confidently. “Because you can’t stop staring at me and all this unresolved sexual tension is going to make for an uncomfortable work environment if we don’t do something about it.”

Your jaw drops. “What the fuck, Hoseok!” you hiss. “There is no—”

“Come to dinner with me.”

And if you agree a little too easily, a little too quickly, who can really blame you?