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justcallmenikki7 · 1 year ago
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BTS Reaction To: The Purge Night
Mafia!Au-Purge!Au-Split!Au
Summary: experiencing the purge with your mafia boyfriend can go many different ways.
Warnings: killing/murder (obviously, it’s the purge lmao), language, stealing/robbery, slight angst, fluff (haha), suggestive comments, badass y/n, torturing, crack, nonconsensual touching from stranger, split!jungkook, character slapping reader, angst, taehyung being taehyung.
W.C.: 3.9k
Notes: hiiiii! I’m back. My life has been so chaotic and busy ever since I got my second job back in March, and so I haven’t had much time to myself to even do anything. Thankfully, I learned on how to take time for myself now and balancing everything out. Anyways! I apologize if I’m rusty with my writing, it’s been a while. And idk how to feel about taehyungs part.
Kim Seokjin:
Ever since Korea has followed along with the United States by having the annual Purge two years ago, you decided with your boyfriend to go and experience it. Now, of course, you are prepared. Having a boyfriend who is the leader of the Korean Mafia, it’s no secret that he is prepared in many ways when it comes to…illegal things.
At first, he was against the idea of you going out on purge night, but once he realized that this was an internal thrill and want for you, he decided to go along with it. Whenever you heard of the purge happening in America, there was this thrill and excitement for one night a year for legal crime, you were wanting it to happen in Korea, and once you heard the news of Korea writing a bill and finalizing it, you wanted to purge. Now, it is a sick want, but some people need to release their anger and do shit that they would not do on a normal day when there are laws in place, but having that ability to do it with no repercussions, what could go wrong?
You were finally able to release the anger and hurt that a few people caused you and you wanted pay back. Could you just have Jin kidnapped and you could enjoy your sick pleasure by torturing them? Of course, but it is different when you can do everything start to finish.
“Babe, I think they’re dead…” you heard your boyfriend say in a monotone over the noise of your knife stabbing into the lady who embarrassed you when you were in sixth grade in front of the student body. She caused you anxiety and humiliation at a young age.
“Are you sure? Her body moved just a second ago.” You questioned cutely, already knowing she’s leaving the mortal realm. You’re just enjoying the thought of her never living again.
“Yes… she died five minutes ago, shortly after her husband.” Jin stated with a smirk on his face from watching you huff and fix your ponytail after giving the woman one last jab at her chest. Pushing off the wall, he walked over to you and cradled your face in his hands, loving how your cheeks crinkle your eyes because of how you have big cheeks that fit your face so well. “You do realize you spent about close to two hours of torturing and killing her that you have ten hours left? We must drive an hour to the next ‘victim’ of yours. And that depends if the roads are blocked off from Purgers.”
“With your driving, well make it there in twenty-five minutes. Plus, the boys already made sure that they’re not blocked.” You commented, grinning at Jin’s face turning red from realizing that you’re right.
“Okay, let’s get going, smart ass.” He ordered, slapping your ass before he grabs your hand and helping you step over the murder scene that just took place in the house.
Min Yoongi:
When the first purge happened in Korea, you and your boyfriend Min Yoongi obviously joined in on the fun. Now, on the second year, that is happening once again.
You were currently getting dressed into your purge outfit. You are wearing jean shorts with fishnets, combat boots, a crop top, a black leather jacket, your hair straightened, and face paint that is skeleton designed. Yes, you know that there is no reason to get dressed up for this night, but there’s no point in going out in sweats and a hoodie while you rob Walmart, the mall, and Hobby Lobby. You want to play the part.
You convinced your boyfriend to dress up with you this year since he did not last year, and it took lots of bribing and promising things, but you got what you wanted in the end like you always do.
“Babe, you ready? In about ten minutes the sirens will go off and along with announcement.” Your boyfriend told you as he walked into the bedroom, mouth dropping at your outfit, and just you in general. He’s now thinking about you guys staying in because he can feel himself getting excited at what he wanted to do with you – to you. “Maybe we should stay in tonight babe.”
Turning around, you glared at him. “Do you not realize that Hobby Lobby has cute house décor that we need for this place?”
“But I can just buy them for you baby,” your boyfriend pouted, along with making a fair point.
“But we can save that money with just stealing, legally! Plus, what’s the fun in that? We can take whatever we want without having to spend a single dime. And there’s build a bear at the mall, and I want all the stuff animals. We are not staying home just so you can rip my outfit apart. We can do that after the purge.” You countered back, determined to get free things, and possibly fighting someone who gets in your way.
It's been a stressful week with idiots at your job, and you’re looking for a reason to punch somebody.
Grumbling, your boyfriend threw his hands up in defeat, not wanting to challenge you while your mind is set. He’s learned when you threw a water bottle at him in the nono region when he tried to persuade you from not spending $50 on a large stuffed llama at Walmart because you already had plenty of stuffed animal llamas at home.
“Yes ma’am, can we at least break into the Oliva Garden on seventh street and take their breadsticks on the way home? I’ve been craving them lately.” He asked, putting his necklace on that you got him on your guy’s sixth month anniversary and his rings.
“I was about to ask the same thing,” you said, spraying your favorite perfume on. Right as you sat it down on your vanity, the sirens went off. Grabbing your gun that was specially made for you, you put in the gun holster that went with the outfit and your bag that had an emergency kit for just in case, along with one extra gun, you walked up and kissed your boyfriend.
“Ready baby?” he asked, taking your hand in his.
“Let’s roll! Hobby Lobby, here we come!”
Jung Hoseok:
It was a good idea at first, but now you’re questioning your train of thought from earlier, along with listening to your boyfriend. But sometimes men don’t know what they’re talking about. But then also is a long-time thief and is a mafia boss, so he does know what he’s talking about half of the time.
You just hate being wrong.
You thought that breaking into a bank that looked untouched from any other Purger’s was skeptical, but you decided to go ahead and do it anyways. But now, you realized that you should’ve listened to your conscious and boyfriend.
“This is your fault.” Your boyfriend commented, handcuffed to the wall.
“How is it my fault? You should’ve said something,” you snapped back, knowing that he did, but you won’t admit that he’s right.
“Stop being stubborn and just say, ‘babe, you were right, I’m a dumbass.’” He sassed, giving you a look that you hate. If only your hands weren’t handcuffed you would have smacked him, because it is the look of ‘you’re a dumbass,’ and know you were a dumbass, but you had a good idea that seemed like one to you, but it wasn’t.
You live and you learn.
“If you don’t wipe that look off of your face, I’ll do it for you after the boys get here and rescue us.”
“What are you going to do? Hit me?” He spoke in a childish tone, but you ignored and acted like you didn’t hear him.
Yes, you two are acting like children while being held at gun point, not caring that you are getting judgmental looks from your captors. What is even funnier, they don’t realize that they have the king and queen of the Korean mafia handcuffed to a pole. So, they are in a big surprise when the gang gets here.
“Will you two shut the fuck up? You sound like my kids right now.” A guy snapped, massaging his temples as if he has a headache.
“No, he called me a dumbass,” you argued back, “and I am not a dumbass.”
“You kind of are, babe.” Hoseok commented in a nonchalant tone. And after he said that gun fire began, a sign that his gang was here.
It was a quick process to say the least since the men who cuffed you both and had guns pointing at you for fifteen minutes were amateurs. After both of you getting uncuffed and you getting lectured by Jungkook and Taehyung on how you don’t know how to rob a place, you hit Hoseok in the arm.
“That’s for calling me dumbass,” you sneered, an angry look on your face.
“Noona, you kind of are…” the maknae’s said at the same time, quickly looking away once they felt your glare.
Kim Namjoon:
You don’t know what it is with your boyfriend, but he is like a child on Christmas morning when it comes to robbing places. He is in his own little world, piling up video games for the Maknae line for their Christmas presents, all of the sprite that he was able to get into the cart for Hoseok, all the colorful lights that Yoongi has talked about getting for his music room that he has at the house as his getaway area whenever he has the chance with his busy schedule of tracking people down, and then Jin kitchen décor for the kitchen at the base. You guys probably need to make a pit stop at HomeGoods for more of the decor because Walmart doesn’t have good selections, but it is the thought that matters.
“Babe! I found a book that I want to read!” Joon yelled out, reading the summary on the back of the book.
“What’s it called?” You asked, walking up to him and leaning your head against his arm, looking down at it.
“It’s called ‘The Cellar’ and it’s by this writer named Natasha Peterson. I’ve never heard of her, but this book sounds awesome.” He commented, placing it gently into the cart, “I’m getting it. I saw that it is a series, so we need to stop by Barnes and Nobel to get the rest of the series.” He mentally added that onto his list.
The peacefulness that was surrounding you both as you guys wondered around Walmart ended as soon as loud laughter sounded throughout the store and a gunshot. Namjoon instantly went into mafia mode, which is what you call it, and grabbed you and threw himself over you as he moved you both behind the shelf of towels and shielded you from any harm. His gun was pulled, and he was already texting the boys, who were also out and about on purge night, that there was a problem. You can’t trust anyone in general, but on Purge night, it’s a different ball game.
You could hear the group being rowdy, knocking everything over that was in their sight, making vulgar comments, and being disgusting in general. It sounded like they were getting closer, and that was making you nervous because of the fucking cart that was in the middle of the aisle.
“Joon, the cart.” You whispered, nervous as hell.
Namjoon muttered ‘fuck’ under his voice and was about to get up and grab the cart, when all the sudden WAP by Cardi B began blaring throughout the store.
Fucking Taehyung.
This obviously grabbed the groups attention because you heard them become alarmed, and slightly confused, on why WAP was blaring over the speakers. You heard someone yell, and then the sound of running on the other side of the aisle. You exhaled, relaxing when you heard the music turn off and Taehyung’s voice.
“I’m such a smart individual you guys.”
Park Jimin:
You and your boyfriend Jimin decided to stay in for the night. You both are not ones to partake in the new holiday because Jimin already deals with it daily. Whereas with you, you are not a fan of murder, despite being married to a mafia boss.
The house was on lock down, security cameras live on the second T.V. in the living room, the other T.V. playing your favorite show, the both of you cuddled up on the couch, and your favorite alcohol beverages next to both of you. It was peaceful, something that you both love when it comes to being with one another. It can be quiet, and no words spoken while you two are together and it isn’t boring or awkward, just peaceful.
That was until the camera for the backyard went black and Jimin got up quickly, and the look of anger and calculation was on his face. The peacefulness gone and the thought of murder was settling in the air.  Becoming nervous, you jumped up and stood right behind your boyfriend, hands holding to both of his arms, and you pushing yourself up against him, trying to become one with him.
“Baby, grab the gun that’s in the cushion that you were sitting on. You remember how to use it, right?” Your husband asked, checking to make sure you remember. It’s been a long time since you’ve had to use a gun because there was never a need too, until tonight.
“Yeah, I remember,” you answered while you grabbed it, hating the cold feeling to it.
“Good, stay next to me at all times, I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.” He replied, grabbing his gun from the side table, cocking it, and began to walk towards the kitchen where the bulletproof glass was that gave you both the ability to look outside. Peeking through it, your heart dropped at what you saw.
One of your security men hanging from the tree that was by your back porch. The churning of your stomach, heart pounding in your chest, and the want to wish you were dreaming was taking over your mind. And what was worse, the lights going out in the house. No power, no ability to see, and the fear of losing your husband became too much.
“Oh Jimin, I’m back. Let’s have some fun, shall we? There is only eleven hours left, and that gives us time to catch up. It’s been a long time, my friend.” A voice you never heard before sounded through the house, and it held everything but kindness.
Clutching Jimin’s arms, you felt tears brimming your eyes.
“Text the boys and tell them to hurry and tell them that Jacob isn’t dead. Tell them to come prepared,” he demanded quietly. “And if we don’t make it, just know we will meet again. I love you Y/N.” Jimin promised, bringing you in and holding you tightly.
Never in the ten years of knowing Jimin have you heard him sound scared before. But you did forget that there are still somethings you don’t know about him, and this is one of them.
Kim Taehyung:
There have always been snakes in every group, whether that being in gangs, friendships, relationships, or even in workplaces. There has been suspicion of a couple of snakes in the gang that your boyfriend runs, and you didn’t think that they would have the balls to do it on the night of the purge, of all days. You could do it on a Sunday, but they thought it would be best to do it on the night of a murder holiday.
You were sitting comfortably on the couch in your boyfriend’s office, watching Tik Tok and talking with your boyfriend as he does paperwork. Everything was peaceful until the moment that his six best friends ran into the office, closing the door and having pissed off looks on their faces.
“What the hell is going on?” Taehyung asked, standing up with a calculated look on his face.
“It’s Max and Jaiden. They’re the snitches and they’re gathering a few others to take us out tonight. Our security teams. The ones who are here now in this building.” Namjoon responds.
“Are you fucking serious? And are they stupid?” Taehyung questions, hands turning into fists as he thinks on what to do. It took a few moments for him to figure out on what he wants to do, before he looks up, “let’s go get rid of them all, but let’s save the two fuckers for last. We need to know what they all had done.”
The six men nod their heads before they left the room. Taehyung was the last to leave because he needed to gather a few things, along with kissing you goodbye. “Lock the door on my way out, you know it’s me when I do the three knocks.” He told you, helping you off the couch and led you to the door. As he walked out, you closed it and locked it, before making your way back to the couch to get comfortable.
Fifteen minutes later, the three knocks sounded. You realized it wasn’t a long process, but you brushed it off as you got to the door and opened it. Only to be greeted with Jaiden. Your heart fell to your stomach, and you quickly stood back.
“Hey, Y/N. Didn’t think I know the knock trick, huh?” He smirked, gun drawn and pointing at you.
“You know you have a death wish if you try something,” you pointed out, “you should really think about whatever you’re planning on doing.”
You didn’t even see him raise his hand until you felt it on your cheek. “Shut the fuck up. Do you not realize how fucking irritating it is to be bossed around and not be appreciated? For everything you do for this fucking gang, huh? You sacrifice your life daily for a guy who doesn’t even know how to fight. What kind of fucking leader is that, huh? And then see him take the girl you have loved for years and claim her as his own?” He questioned, stepping towards you.
You’re focusing on two things right now. The pain in your cheek and his reference towards you. He’s been in love with you? And he thinks that Taehyung has taken you from him? This guy is fucking delusional.
“Oh, so this is what it’s about? You could’ve done this tomorrow, or yesterday, or even last month. But, on purge night? That is hilarious.” You heard your boyfriend, relief flooding through your body. A groan of pain and the sound of electricity sounded through the air, and you know it was the taser that Jungkook bought for shits and giggles. Looking up, hand on your cheek from the hit, you said Jaiden on the ground, Taehyung standing above him. “You’re going to wish that you never once laid a hand on MY girl and for going behind my back to Ateez and giving them information.” Taehyung growled out, looking at you with a look that shook you to your bones.
Jeon Jungkook:
Occasionally, your boyfriends alter appears. Sometimes, it scares you because of how violent he can get, along with barely interacting with him. JK, for the first time in over a year, that you know of because that was the last time you had interacted with him for a few minutes, is out tonight.
You don’t know how to approach him, you don’t know how to do anything because of how you barely know him. You know that he is your boyfriend, and you do love him, but he scares you. You know that he wouldn’t do anything to you at all – he even told you that himself last year, but you know that you do not want to see him in action.
The gang had to leave the base because of Purgers who hate the gang, despite them never hurting an innocent citizen and only trying to protect them, raided the base and only a few got out. So now, you guys are now in the city, trying to get to across town on foot to the safety house that’s in the country. Everyone’s running, JK and his six brothers who are prepared for anything, and several other men who are a part of the gang are keeping the extra eye out for any danger.
You’re not an athletic person, running is not in your vocabulary, and so you are getting winded quickly. You thought you would be an athletic person when it comes to possibly dying, having all the adrenaline in you, but there isn’t any and so you’re slowly falling behind. Not being able to speak up because of having no breath in you since it’s long gone from the running you’ve done, you stop for a second and put your hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath and stretch for a few seconds.
Of course, you’re that person that stopped and now you’re getting yanked from the back. Screaming, which catches everyone’s attention, you began to kick the person who has a hold of you.
“Y/N!” Your boyfriend screamed, running towards you, only stop when other people came out of their hiding places and having guns drawn and ready to shoot. The look on your boyfriend’s face sent fear down your spine because it’s a look of pure bloodlust, the want to kill and torture the man who has you. “Let her fucking go, now.” He demanded, voice thick and deep.
“And why’s that? You don’t want to share this piece of meat with anyone else? Listen, pal, I can do whatever I want tonight and that is her.” The guy cockily said, the feeling of his hand sneaking down you, causing you to squirm and move his hand away. “Good luck on trying to stop me, but I have more men than you. There’s no way you’re going to—” He stopped in his sentence from your elbow jabbing into his stomach and then your foot making contact his dick. You learn thing or two from dating your boyfriend. “You fucking bitch!”
A warzone happened, and you somehow dodged his fist as it flew at you, but you ran towards your boyfriend, jumping into his arms, only to meet the ground with your back and he threw himself on top of you to protect you from any danger. The guns stop firing, and you heard the guy who grabbed you groaning. Hoseok managed to shoot him in the leg, but everyone else in his group are now dead, along with a wounded Jimin and Seokjin, and a dead member who meant everything to everyone.
“Nice job, baby,” JK praised, standing you both up, only to pull you against him, both your chests pressed together and his hands gripping your waist. This caused a blush to ran come across your cheeks and your chest, the look in his eyes hooded, but you know it is still JK, and this got you even more excited and nervous.
“Well, Jungkook taught me a thing or two… and so, I just acted.” You stuttered, trying to keep eye contact, but it being difficult from how intense JK is staring at you.
“Well, I can teach you a thing or two later. But now baby, I have to do something that I don’t want you to watch, or if you want to, I can teach you a few other things. But I don’t want to scare you away. So, now be a good girl and look the other way, you won’t like what you’ll see.” He ordered, eyes now deadly and not the ones that made an appearance for a few moments that comforted you.
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multicohn · 4 months ago
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summary: hoseok worries about y/n burning herself out again and jumps at the chance to help improve her dance skills for her groups comeback so she doesn't get sick again
warnings: mentions of burning out, fainting, breakdowns, depression and su!c!dal thoughts
pairing: fem! idol! reader x jung hoseok
genre: angst, fluff
face claim: no one
author note: n/n means nickname. y/n is also a “bad” dancer, so if you’re good, i’m sorry but you’re gonna have to pretend that you’re “bad”.
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
y/n breathed heavily while staring into the mirror. she couldn’t remember how long she’s been in the practice room for, but it felt like ages. her members had already left while she stayed back in hopes of improving and not standing out as the groups “dance hole”. in the eyes of her company, she wasn’t bad, but fans think the complete opposite. every comeback, y/n worked herself until she collapsed, she needed to prove to them that she’s just as good as her members; but, every comeback was filled with the same negative comments about her dancing.
“y/n is so bad bro 😭😭 kick her out atp”
“why do they even have her move to the centre when she can’t dance?”
“it’s so obvious they’re only keeping her for her ( vocals / visuals )”
y/n read them all. they thought she wouldn’t see them, but she does.
y/n was broken out of her thoughts at hearing her phone ringing. she tiredly walked towards her bag and sat down with a groan, everything hurt, but she couldn’t stop.
[ incoming call from… ☀️💜 ]
“hoseok?” she mumbled out before answering
they had only been dating for a few months and in order to not get caught, y/n made sure to put emojis as his contact. their companies were aware of the relationship and warned them about being careful, especially y/n as she’s a junior and her group isn’t even close to being as big as his. they were worried about the backlash and thoughts of netizens thinking she had seduced him and was just using him to make herself and her group more popular.
“n/n!” she tried to smile at hearing his voice, but couldn’t bring herself to. she was just so tired.
“hi, hobi” concern washed over him as he heard her voice
“did i wake you?”
“no, no. just practicing, the usual, you know?” she slumped down onto the floor and released a breath at feeling the cold wood on her sweaty body
“you shouldn’t practice so hard. you’ll get sick again” his reminder made her look at herself into the mirror
she had gone on hiatus a while ago because of her deteriorating mental health and he had been the main person that looked after her since her group was busy promoting. y/n didn't want to see her family during it, she felt embarrassed for letting such negativity get to her and make her feel like she should end everything: they were harmless comments, they didn't know better, right? they were just saying things to hurt her, they didn't actually mean it… or so she tried to convince herself. hoseok understood what she felt, though the negative comments about them have been significantly different, he knew how to deal with what she was feeling and y/n couldn't help but fall in love with him even more.
hoseok represented the sun, and she the moon. his bright smile and positive words helped y/n feel better, although it did take her a while to understand that he wasn't doing it just because it might be a requirement due to them dating, but he actually cared about her. a lot of tears were shed and they both had to repeat their words as they couldn't understand the other through their sobbing, but y/n slowly managed to feel okay again.
"can you help me?" she asked softly
"of course!"
✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦ .  ⁺   . ✦
the phrase “practice makes perfect” has always stuck with y/n, but no matter how much hoseok helped her, she just couldn't get certain moves right. her body didn't bend in the same way her members or his did and she hated it — it just made her stick out even more.
"it's alright, you still have time" he eased her worries as she sat between his legs with her back pressed against his chest. they weren't worried about anyone seeing them as the door was locked and the window that was on the door had a curtain that he could pull down
"the others should be here soon, do you want to watch us?" y/n felt rather intimated about meeting the other members and hoseok understood as he was once in her position so he never pushed y/n into meeting them. however, his enlistment date was growing closer and the youngest four were rather noisy about wanting to meet her before he left as they knew she wouldn't interact with them otherwise. hoseok also wanted them to meet her and potentially take care of y/n while he was away in case anything happened and her own members weren't with her
"sure" he perked up and hugged her tightly making y/n laugh
one by one they came into the practice room and each of them froze at the doorway upon seeing hoseok coddling y/n who was embarrassed with showing such affection around others. they were use to him being strict during their own practices, but he was so soft with her.
jungkook felt very offended.
“she’s my girlfriend, of course i treat her better” he rolled his eyes as jungkook gasped dramatically, y/n looked between the two as they reminded her of two of her own members
throughout the practice, y/n sat against the wall and just watched. she knew they were human and could make mistakes, but seeing them shocked her a little. y/n saw them as bts: her seniors and one of the biggest korean idol groups to ever exist. it was strange yet oddly comforting?
mistakes are made and they laugh it off. y/n remembered when she did that too. once she tripped over herself and fell onto the floor which made her members burst out laughing before asking if she was okay. as trainees, all of them were rather sensitive and wanted to be perfect, but nowadays ( stan ) they didn’t judge her and reminded y/n that she wouldn’t have debuted if the company truely believed she was such an awful dancer like the internet said.
“practice makes perfect” they say. y/n has always been determined to become a better dancer and prove everyone wrong, but this time she’s going to work on doing it without burning herself out and making everyone worried
“hoseok” she called out to her boyfriend softly as he sat beside her in silence, the other boys were spread out and in their own worlds as he hummed and looked at her
“thanks” he tilted his head in confusion before asking what she meant
“for everything” she kissed his cheek softly which earned a loud gag from jimin, but they both ignored him
“i’m going to go home. practice with me, tomorrow?” he beamed and nodded happily before leaning in to kiss her
a shoe was thrown which made them jump apart and a loud; “GET A ROOM” echoed through the practice room. hoseok glared before getting up to chase after the younger members who ran out of the practice room.
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mclarensangel · 2 years ago
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Chapter 7- The Move
Authors note- I am so sorry it has been taking me so long to write, every time I sat down to write, I just had writer's block and nothing was working. However, I am on holiday in France right now, and the sun is shining, the birds are chirping and I finally found inspiration. This isn't a long chapter but I hope you all enjoy it.
total word count: 2.4k
warnings:
warnings: mentions of weight, AFAB character, mentions of female body parts, references to the weight of M/C, loosely based on my own research of the ancient Korean royalty system, bullying, loneliness, anxiety, money problems, mentions of how other people view characters body
message me if you feel I need more warnings or if you would like to be a proofreader!
As soon as the words came out of your mother's mouth, the smile on Namjoons face changed from one of nervousness to one of genuine happiness. Taking a step back from your family, Namjoon moves to talk to the audience. 
“Ladies and Gentlemen, I apologise for what just happened. Let us move on to the next event! I sincerely hope that you enjoy the music and food! Please, enjoy yourselves!” he speaks, his hands moving to clasp together as he finishes his sentence. The crowd stays where they are, still reeling from the events that have already happened this evening. 
You turn your head to make brief eye contact with Namjoon, to find that he was already looking at you. He takes a step towards you and offers his arm to you. Smiling brightly at the man, you try to place your arm in his as elegantly as possible, knowing that the court is watching you. Once your arms are connected, Namjoon smiles down at you. His smile passed on words that his mouth couldn’t say at present.
You look behind you to see where your mother was, to find Yoongi offering her arm to your mother. Your siblings had been a part of the crowd and they would not be joining you for the dinner, which weirdly made you feel a little less nervous, as they wouldn’t be able to tell embarrassing stories of you growing up to the man you were about to marry. 
The walk to the separate room where the dinner would be held took about a minute. The large group of you meander down halls and through some doors before arriving at the final place. Inside the room was a table in a circular shape. There was one large throne-like chair similar to the one that was in the hall at the top of the table from where you were standing. To the left of that chair was another chair that almost looked like one of the throne room chairs. And to the right of that large throne-like chair were two more slightly decorated chairs. The other six chairs were decorated with the titles of the men who would be sitting there spread evenly around the circle. Namjoon led you to the chair to the right of the large chair. He pulled the chair out, making you blush, as it was very uncommon for a king to do this for anyone. Once you were sat, he did the same for your mother and then his own before sitting down. Looking around you, you noticed that everyone was smiling. You took this moment to look at what everyone was wearing, only having the chance to see what the King, the Queen Dowager, Yoongi and your mother had been wearing. The boys were all wearing various shades of red and white. The colour complements their skin brilliantly underneath the lamplight. It made their eyes shine even brighter than they already were. Taking in a deep breath you allow yourself to feel happy and content at this moment. You felt free and able to finally breathe. 
Moments, after you were all sat down, the doors opened and two lines of servants filed into the room, some holding food, some holding drinks, some had cups and some had cutlery. Before your very eyes, the things in their hands were set out in their perfect positions, cups were filled as well as plates and hearts were opened, as the conversation began. 
Namjoon manages to sneakily move his chair as close to you as he can without making the other boys jealous, which he knows will lead to the young ones play fighting, and who knows how that’ll end. Catching your eyes, he leans closer to you, and you lean closer to him. He speaks in a quiet tone, the smile showing in his eyes and on his lips. “Thank you for accepting my proposal, I promise I will make you the happiest woman alive, as you have made me and my boys- I mean men, the last few weeks” he speaks. 
“My king, do not fear, I know of the relationship between you and the boys- I mean men” you copy, making him laugh before you continue “I have come to love each and every one of you and I would be honoured to join your family”. The smile on Namjoon’s face when you tell him this, makes his smile larger, and a blush fall from his ears to his cheeks. Namjoon takes your hand before speaking again “Well if that’s the case then I can’t wait to marry you, and 50 days can’t come soon enough, Nae salang/Sarang”. Seconds later, he lets go of your hand before standing up to address the people in the room. 
Firstly, he turns to the servants “Thank you for your work, you may go and enjoy the party, this can all be cleared up tomorrow, tonight we celebrate.” Then he turns to the people at the table, clasping his cup, he brings it to the air “And to my family, let us celebrate a union of two families, let us celebrate love in all its forms and let us celebrate our blessings. To celebrating!” he says, lifting his glass every so slightly higher at the end of his statement. 
“To celebrating!” everyone yells in unison, with their classes similarly raised in the air to the kings. Once everyone has yelled out, Namjoon sits down, and the conversations re-begin. Memories are shared between people, laughter is heard and love is shared. In that room, love and happiness were evident for even a blind man to see and feel. 
-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
The next day you woke up to a knock at your door. It was Hwasa waking you up. 
“Good morning your majesty,” she tells you “You have a busy day today, we must get you bathed and dressed”. 
“Please do not call me ‘Your Majesty’” you giggle to Hwasa, “you’ll give me an ego,” you tell her with a wink. She laughs alongside you, before taking your hand and bringing you back into the bathing room. “Today's bath will be shorter as you have a very busy day, I will come back and collect you when it is time, do you need anything else ma’am?” she asks. You smile and shake your head, excited to enjoy your bath no matter how long you would be in it. 
Stepping into the bath, you allow yourself to feel the warmth surrounding your body, the muscles that were tense from anxiety the past few days slowly releasing and making your body feel at ease. You dip your head into the bath, allowing your hair to enjoy the water as well. The bath is exactly what you needed this morning, and you were relieved that it was able to be added to your busy schedule. 
Around 15 minutes later, Hwasa walks back into the room, holding a long cloth that would dry you and a silken red robe with dragons embroidered into it. “The king and his men had this made for you. They had them make it as soon as you agreed to be the royal bride” she tells you. This information brings a smile to your face, and once your cloth is tied around you, you reach out for the robe, wanting to feel it in your hands. You place the robe delicately around your shoulders as you follow Hwasa out of the room, and into where you dressed each day. On your way, however, you noticed that all of your stuff had been placed into boxes. 
“Why is my stuff in boxes? I thought I was to stay…” your voice trembles, anxiety hitting you like a brick wall.
“Do not worry” Hwasa reassures, “you are staying, you are just being moved to a different courtyard closer to the king and his men, it is tradition. You will be transferred from the emerald apartment to the cherry blossom courtyard, which is on the other side of the cherry blossom garden. Oh, a letter has arrived for you today by the way!” 
“A letter? Who from?” you ask as Hwasa hands you the letter. You pull the wax away from the envelope and open it up. 
Her future royal highness, y/n, 
This letter was written to you regarding the royal engagement. It is a formal proposal letter. Please enjoy you’re new homing in the Cherry Blossom Garden. If you need anything, please do not hesitate to contact any of us. 
Sincerely, 
King Kim Namjoon 
And the boys
You giggled at the little addition at the bottom of the letter added by your boys, it made you even more sure that you were making the right decision. Folding the letter back up, you place it, along with the envelope on the dressing table near you. 
“Well then, I guess we had better get ready so we can see this new venue.” you grinned at her. 
Hwasa brings you over to the dressing table which still remained, sitting beautifully in front of two doors that would slide open. Realising this was your last day here, you decided to be bold and ask the woman, who had quickly become your friend, to open those doors whilst you had your hair and makeup done. She agreed but notified you that you must get dressed first, turning her hand towards the cotton figurine that stood in the doorway near your bedroom. Looking over at the hanbok you noticed the colour, it was a deep red colour, similar to the one you wore to the dinner the other day. And similar to the other, you noticed a gold band along the bottom of the skirt. Looking closer at it you noticed that it had been embroidered with both the seal of the dragon, one of royalty, and the seal of your house, tigers. Your heart lept with warmth and love at the thoughtfulness of your boys. A part of you felt weird calling them your boys when you haven’t had more than a crush before in your life. But in the same way, you have never felt more loved in your life. With a smile, you turned to Hwasa and stood to allow her to help you get ready. 
Once you were dressed, minus your gomusin and beoseon, you sat down and looked at yourself in the mirror as Hwasa opened the doors allowing the light to flood into the room. Feeling the warmth on your face, you felt at peace for the first time in a very long time. Hwasa and Hyo-Seong quickly moved on to applying your makeup and hair. The makeup was applied with a sense of regality that hadn't quite been there in the past times your makeup was done. Next was your hair, pulled in different directions and braided before being placed into an updo. Two matching hair pins are slid into the final hair-do, making it perfect. It still felt unreal to look at yourself in the mirror as your hair was done by two of the king’s servants. A sudden anxiety hit you as you realised you were to become the royal bride in less than 2 months. Noticing the anxious look on your face, Hwasa places a gentle hand on your shoulder, offering you a kind but small smile. 
“Your mother should be here soon, she was staying in the azurite apartment, but she will also be moving to the cherry blossom courtyard to stay with you until the wedding.” 
As soon as the words fell from her lips, the anxiety that was building in your heart melted away till there was barely any left. Hwasa smiled at your now relaxed face, before picking up your makeup and opening the bits she needed. 
“Now… let's do your makeup so we can go and see your new residence” Hyo-Seong smiled at the two of you. 
After a few minutes, your makeup was done and you stood from your seat, you took one last look at the view from where you had been sat before turning towards the door and putting on your beoseon and gomusin. Hwasa and Hyo-Seong each took a door and opened it, allowing you to exit from the apartment you had spent the last two weeks in for the final time. To your surprise, Yoongi and Namjoon were waiting outside, surrounded by some of their guards, whose faces you had come to recognise but had yet been unable to put a name to. Noticing that the doors had opened up, Namjoon and Yoongi looked up, seeing you. The smiles on their faces brought a smile to your own. 
Namjoon steps towards you, followed closely by the older but shorter man. The younger man reaches you within a few steps and greets you with a bow. The cat-like man followed his suit. Standing to full height once again, Namjoon grins at you. 
“Good morning my queen, I take it you know where you are to move to today?” he asked, the grin just as wide at the end of his question as it was at the beginning. Pretending that you didn’t know, you let the grin that was on your face fall. 
“Are you sending me home your Highness?” You asked with mock sadness on your face. Namjoon’s smile fell instantly, as did the man smile behind him. 
“NO!” He yelled, moving towards you, before pausing. “I'm sorry, I mean… I mean no you are not being sent home” he spoke in a calmer tone. You took a step closer to the man before speaking again. 
“Hmm,” you sighed, taking another step forward. “Well then…” you carried on, slipping your smaller hand into his much larger one. “I guess you’ll just have to guide me to wherever I am to be moved to today” you finished with a smile. Relief instantly flooded the men before you’s faces. Namjoons smile returned to his face, as he turned to Yoongi, “It looks like we have another prankster on our hands, don’t tell the maknaes, we need this one on our side.” Yoongi replied with a small nod of his head and a gorgeous smirk, agreeing with what the man before him had said, secretly planning pranks the two of you could do in his head. Namjoon grips your hand in his and turns towards the pathway that would take you to the cherry blossom courtyard. 
“Let us go, my queen” he spoke quietly into your ear.
Series taglist:
@skyys-universe @angel-121 @queen-in-the-shadows @iwishididntexist @hair1997 @unqiuecutieprincess @agusfree @treetops68 @sbromp @explorewithd @zmbo97 @maetyun @sgnsgssy @feedthefandoms995 @hajimaoppaa @emu007 @silverrr-spooon @el-insomnio-no-es-divertido @scentisterror @hey-syia @insert-a-creative-url-right-here @uniquelyabnormallyoriginal @poesreddeath @thedarkwinterrose @yoongiigolden @zae007live @namjinieesope @iamhereforbts
permanent tag list: @ewok7attack @marc-ella
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dirtybtssnaps · 2 years ago
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can i have a rough sex drabble with hoseok please and thank you !
Early morning love birds
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Genre: Lovely Smut
Pairing: Dom Jung Hoseok (J-Hope) and Sub Female Reader
Posions: Morning Sex, Oral (Male and Female), Rough sex, Kissing, Clit play, Dirty Talk, and Bareback (Wear condoms please)
A ding sounded from your phone making your eyes slowly fluttered open, you then slowly sat up and looked over at the slightly open curtained window. It was early sunrise the day already showing it beautiful colors, the sky filled with oranges ,pinks and purples with the sun peeking through the Horizon. You looked over at hoseok still dead asleep, you smirked and remembered him telling you he liked when you did that “hand thing.” When he was laying down. You lightly grabbed his chin and gently pulled his head close to you and kissed his cheek, he unconsciously moved closer to you almost bumping his head into yours making you giggle then you kissed him deeply.
Hoseok who was already shirtless from getting too hot in the bed last night, you looked at his chest and watched it slowly rise and fall. Your fingertips slowly and gently ran up against his chest then stomach, you went across his chest shoulder to shoulder. You continued gently running your fingertips around his torso, occasionally stopping and continuing different spots or just changing directions. You ran your fingertips from the middle of his chest, and slowly went down his stomach just stopping before his boxers. Hoseok suddenly grabbed your hand and placed it up against his growing bulge, you blushed and looked at him but his eyes were still closed. You looked back down and gently grabbed his cock through his boxers and started gently stroking it.
He gently pulled his boxers down exposing his already hardening cock, you brushed your hair behind your ear then slid his cock inside your mouth. Hoseok slowly gripped and smooth your hair into a ponytail and gently guided your mouth on his cock, your tongue slowly swirled around it. Hoseok let out a moan he gently pulled you back to his tip and let your tongue gently explore it then pushed you back down. He stopped when he was halfway inside your mouth, your tongue started swirling and wrapping around his cock. After a few moments, he slowly guided you back up until only the tip of his cock was in your mouth, your tongue continued to swirl and wrapped around his tip. Moans started slipping out of Hoseok’s mouth making you smirk, your fingertips gently ran up his thigh until you were close to his balls and gently grabbed them and gently massaged them.
“We had sex not even a whole day ago, and you’re already asking for more? You know I have work in a little while, I can’t have as much fun as I usually can with you-.” Hoseok moaned as you started bobbing your head faster, then slid as much of his cock inside your mouth as your cock making him moan again. Hoseok slowly pulled you off leaving a string of spit from his cock in your mouth, he looked you deep into your eyes and smiled. “Come on get, get on all fours for me…now sunshine.” He said. You nodded then sat up and got on all fours, then hoseok got up and got on his knees behind you. “Why do you have to have such a cute butt, I don’t wanna treat it like this, it’s so soft and plump I love it so much. It just makes me wanna-.” Hoseok shoved his face in between your ass cheeks and started licking your pussy, you started moaning and bucking at the sudden pleasure. He reached his hands in between your legs and hooked them around your thighs keeping them as still as possible.
“Perfect!” He said looking down at your now dripping wet pussy, he started rubbing the tip of his cock up against your pussy until he slipped inside. You moan as he entered you and continued as he slowly started thrusting, his thrust went from slow and soft occasionally thrusting his whole cock inside deep inside. Hoseok started massaging and groping your butt before griping your hips and pushing his whole cock inside you then started roughly thrusting into you. Your moans got louder as you gripped the bedsheets under you, you started leaning forward a bit so his cock wouldn’t go so deep inside you. Hoseok gripped you tighter and pulled you close to him, “Oh fuck!” You moaned “Hey! no dirty words during sex okay?” He asked and meekly nodded before he started his rough pace again.
You felt his hips moving around sending pleasure throughout your body, he occasionally slid his cock deep in and out of your pussy. Hoseok slowly pulled his cock out of you, then gently pushed down onto the bed and turned you around onto your back. He laid on top of you and kissed your lips deeply as his cock rubbed up against your pussy, you moaned against his lips as your hands and legs wrapped around him. His hand gently caressed and stroked your thighs, you moaned against his lips as the tip of his cock started gently rubbing up against your clit. You pulled him closer to you enjoying the feeling, then suddenly pulled your legs apart and sat up interrupting your embrace. Hoseok started rubbing his cock right up against your clit, you covered your mouth trying to muffle your loud moans but hoseok pushed his cock deep inside you again making you moan.
Your legs were spread apart a little wider as Hoseok leaned down closer to you pushing his cock deep inside, he stayed still for a while as you whined then you gripped his shoulders wanting him to pull out just a bit. He then looked at you and smiled then started his fast and rough pace with you again, his pace so rough that you can feel yourself bouncing on the bed a bit. Hoseok slowed down a little roughly but slowly thrusting his cock inside and out of your pussy, then without warning he started thrusting harder and faster inside you again. He slowed down again then looked at you and smiled, “You make it so hard not to cum too early, your pussy feels so amazing around my cock, and the noises you make around so precious.” Hoseok complimented you, then leaned forward again and started his rough pace once more.
Hoseok leaned forward and kissed your lips deeply and he kept thrusting into you, he started moaning against your lips as his pace suddenly sped up until He gently pulled out his cock and started stroking himself until he came on your pussy, you slumped on the bed then you laid on your side as Hoseok slowly laid down. After a few moments of heavy breathing, Hoseok turned towards you and moved closer until his flaccid cock was pressing up against your butt. He slowly started rubbing his cock up against your butt, you blushed a bit and gently started grinding up against him. Hoseok slowly got rougher holding your hip still and continued grinding on you at his own pace until he was hard again. Hoseok started caressing your whole body not leaving a bit of you untouched until one of his hands was on your breast and the other one was playing around your pussy.
“You’re so fucking wet sunshine, I just started playing with your pussy and your juices are all over my fingers.” He said then roughly swirled your clit making you moan louder, you started squirming continuously stroking his cock with your butt. After a few more moments you suddenly moaned out and came hard as he roughly swirled your clit through your orgasm making it harder. Hoseok slowly stopped then gently lifted your leg a bit, he grabbed his cock and pushed it inside your pussy making you moan and shoot forward a bit. Hoseok hissed and pulled you back a bit sliding his cock deep inside you again. “You can’t move when we’re like this sunshine.” He said teasingly before slowly thrusting you, You moaned out trying to move forward again but hoseok held you close with his free arm and started kissing your cheek and neck. Every thrust was long going from base to tip over and over again, each one gaining him another moan from you.
“Hmmm, Maybe we should do this again hmm, I never would have thought that having sex in the morning would be this great. I thought I’d be too tired to fuck you just the way I wanted to, but I think this is one of best sessions don’t you think so sunshine?” Hoseok asked, You just moaned in response can’t even think of anything to say. He raised your leg a bit more and started thrusting faster as he held you closer to himself, you closed your eyes as you squirmed a bit and started moaning louder. Your arm reached back and grabbed his hip trying to slow down his movements, Hoseok pushed his whole cock deep inside you. “I’m close just take a bit longer for me, move your hand back on the bed.” He hissed, you gently moved your hand back onto the bed and he started thrusting inside you again.
Hoseok went back to his rough pace, you started moaning loudly again until he slowed down his pace into long strokes again. He suddenly pulled out of you and sat up, he started stroking his cock until he came on your thighs. Hoseok laid down on bed next to you then gently pulled you closer to him and embraced you, he kissed your lips deeply while hugging you lovingly as you both watched the rest of the sunrise together.
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abloomingperiod · 1 year ago
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will | jung hoseok
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"can i ask you something?" hoseok's voice enters the room, his right hand scratching the back of his head and the other one on his hip. he was definitely still gathering his words.
"shoot it", you respond. then you look behind to make sure he's still there and he keeps looking like he's away from there, deep in his thought. "hobi?"
"you can't get weird about it."
"now that's a way to start", you scoff lightly, his eyes finally looking at you, as a quiet 'gimme a hand here'. you smile at him, "go on."
"...do you ever think about the future?"
you stop your hands from folding the pile of clothes gathered over the computer table of your room. whatever he was on, it seemed more interesting than your messy clothes.
"yeah. every day." you respond honestly, and stop for a second to pay attention to his figure.
his hair is a bit longer. not much, but enough for you to fell its dark, soft ends every time you reached for the back of his neck to scratch, massage and hold. he's got a bare face, puffy little cheeks and tiny bags under his eyes.
always not ass rested as he should be.
"uhm" he hums, eyes still on the ground and the same posture as he started his questioning. "and do you think about our future?"
you smile bigger at his low voiced question. after more than a year together, one would think you've been dating for less than 3 months, if judged by the way hoseok seems to go about things regarding your relationship sometimes.
you don't see it as a reason for anxiety, though. you find it quite adorable, in reality. he was never rushed, he was never pressuring, and he was always asking for your thoughts and checking your pace.
and as a payback, you make sure everything is okay. you make sure he knows just how good he is, and just how good things are.
a silent agreement, a quiet teamwork.
a self-made synchronized choreography of how you two want to dance the beautiful dance your relationship is.
"yeah. every day." you repeat yourself, sitting down in front of him on the bed, hands on your lap and eyes staring at his, that now, detach from the floor.
now, they look at you.
and you instantly feel warmer.
"and........what have you thought about?"
"well... dates, trips, events..."
"events?" he mirrors your last word, lightly narrowing his eyes.
"what do you want to know, hoseok?" you fold your arms, also narrowing your eyes.
he sighs heavily, and you reach for his left hand, caressing his fingers and stopping on his tiny, thin silver ring, which happens to be exactly like the one you got on your other hand, "you can tell me."
he looks at your fingers and gives your hand a light squeeze, upside curl appearing on his lips.
"have you ever thought about being more than boyfriend and girlfriend one day?" he says quietly, almost hard to catch your ear, but so soft and warm you swear you can feel it like a hug.
"of course i have" you answer matter-of-factly and eyes fully searching for his. just now, you realize you're still smiling, because your lips start to ache. you lessen them, but don't take your eyes off of the beautiful, warm face in front of you, "i think you would make an amazing husband."
and with these words, you realize you should slap yourslef in the face more every time you felt dramatic or too much into novels for picturing him in your honeymoon calling you his wife here and there for everybody that came along.
hoseok's face go through 5 stages of euphoria.
surprise. what just happened; disbelief. she must be joking. in that case, ouch; realization. she actually mouthed the proof that she does think about it. happiness. the girl i love thinks i would make a good- no, amazing husband. pure and utter bliss. she wants me to be one.
and every one of them has his eyebrows less and less furrowed as reality hits.
you do want him to be an amazing husband one day. your amazing husband.
"really?" he checks, and you roll your eyes so hard they could rol back into your skull.
"yes, hoseok, i've thought about being your wife. one day." you make sure to tell him - which is a smart thing to do. based on what's going inside hoseok's head right now, one would think his knee might just go to the floor. "i also might've thought about a honeymoon trip, a backyard to host barbecue parties on sundays, the whole picture. what makes you so surprised?" his hand now ceasing his mirrored caressing to a halt. "i don't know if you know it, but this doesn't seem like a casual friends to benefits type of stuff anymore, you know..." you playfully tell him, reminding of how everything started for a brief moment so he could come back to earth.
with that, you think he would just stare at you the way he never even tries and hide the sassy side of him.
but no.
he smiles wider. his eyes crinkle in the ends, and his teeth show so much you question is he is not aching like you were moments ago.
"you want that?" he asks you dumbfounded.
your hand squeezes his and reach it to your right cheek, rubbing softly and nuzzling it. you nod, eyes on his "all of that."
your tone only sends butterflies over his stomach. you say it as a fact. as something that is in the books, on the news, billboards and journals all around the city.
of course you want all of that.
"if you want it too", you say. now, it's your time to check.
and hoseok snaps.
his arms suddenly wrap around your waist and he is throwing you figure on the bed, his smile only growing wider at the high-pitched scream that comes out of your mouth with the action.
his lips find your neck, leaving warm, slow kisses as his forehead touches the side of your head. you feel his hair on your fingers, and you remind yourself mentally just how much you love this hair length on him. this hair, him in a tuxedo.
you are sure you look like a fool with the face you're making as he places your on top of his body, hands holding your waist and eyes glued to yours.
"i will do everything i can to have that."
and you will to.
you promise him you will.
you will. he will. you will.
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guccybangtan · 2 years ago
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Feeding Time - Jung Hoseok - Mafia AU oneshot
Hello! This is my first BTS imagine in quite a while, so please let me know if you like it :) I have quite a few things in the works, including another chapter of Blueside.
also, this is one piece a of a new series :) we will definitely be learning more about hobi and the reader
pairing: jung hoseok x reader word count: 1,352 warnings: none, it's a lil angsty, I guess. mentions of break up
not proof read, and its 3 am lol let me know of any mistakes :)
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It had been a long time since you last set foot in this compound. It wasn’t like you had any reason to come anymore. The six-month mark of you leaving Hoseok just passed last week, yet as you stepped through the threshold of the main living room, it was like nothing had changed.
Jimin and Jungkook were posted on the couch, enthralled in an intense match of Mario Kart. Small clattering noises were coming from the kitchen to the right, and you assumed Jin was preparing dinner. Neither of the boys really said hello, just small grunts of acknowledgment at your entry.
You slipped off your shoes and quietly moved through the room toward the hallway on the left. This was a familiar path and one you used to take quite often to find Hoseok.
Bangtans compound was expansive, but this wing was where they lived and where the seven members spent most of their leisure time. The common areas were suited for large groups of people to watch tv or eat together, and the suites were even better. Every sleeping quarter had a small work area with a desk and shelving, a mini-fridge opposite, and a large bedroom with an attached bath and closet through the next door. It was like its own small apartment. You’d never have to see anyone else if you didn’t want to.
You continued your path down the hall and stopped at the fourth door on the left. This was where the path ended. You weren’t really ready to set foot in this room again, but when Hoseok left you a voicemail begging you to check on his cat, how were you supposed to say no. Even though you didn’t want to see him it doesn’t mean you didn’t want to see little Max anymore.
Max was Hoseok’s orange tabby cat that wormed his way into your heart the first day you met. It wasn’t your first time at the compound, but it was your first time staying the night with Hoseok. You followed him down the long hallway and were surprised when you heard gentle mews coming from the other side of the door.
“What is that noise?” You asked. It was hard for you to imagine big bad Hoseok with a pet, but when he opened the door, and you were met with Max, you immediately fell in love.
You’d had pets growing up, but when you moved out for college, you were left alone.
There were many nights spent cuddling with Max in the king-size bed, wondering where Hoseok was and if he was even going to come home to you.
One of these nights, you decided you couldn’t take it anymore, and you had to leave.
Shaking your head, you tried to compose yourself. You didn’t need to be having these thoughts of Hoseok, and you certainly didn’t want to think about the night you broke up. That was for another time when you had a bottle or two of wine ready.
Hoseok’s voicemail had been full of whining about how he didn’t trust the boys to check on his cat, and he didn’t want them in there, but he was going to be stuck on his assignment for another few days, and the automatic feeder was out of food.
You hadn’t listened to the whole thing because after 45 seconds, you were overwhelmed.
You texted him that you’d stop by, and his response shocked you.
From: Hobi - Your door code still works.
You couldn’t believe your eyes. Somehow, Hoseok had managed to convince Yoongi to leave your door code active, even though you no longer had any ties to any of the Bangtan members.
Yoongi is very tight about security and safety, and you could only imagine what bribing it took for Hoseok to pull this off. The door codes work for not only the interior doors but the main exterior door as well.
You swiftly typed in the code, excited to see your furry friend for the first time in a while.
Max was meowing his head off as soon as the door swung open, rubbing all over your legs. It didn’t take long to fill up the feeder, but you figured he was lonely and probably hadn’t seen a human in who knows how long. A few minutes of pets wouldn’t hurt.
Sitting down in Hoseok’s desk chair, you spun around to the side to pick up Max.
He settled into your lap without much fuss, and you stroked his back, looking around to take in the environment. You wondered what new things he might have done with his place.
Nearly everything was the same except for a few new stickers on his fridge. Even the crooked poster you hung up was still crooked. Your gaze dropped from the wall to his desk, and your picture was still there where it always sat.
Hoseok would tell you he liked to look at it while he worked on his computer because it reminded him of what he had to come home to. He couldn’t be reckless anymore because you were at home waiting, and you needed him like he needed you.
You kept his head on straight. You kept him focused. He was in love.
You fully expected for all traces of you to be gone. Hoseok did not take your request to separate lightly. He had a full-blown meltdown and trashed his room. He went from begging you to stay to screaming at you to leave. There were lots of tears shed, and it was not something you wanted to relive.
Sighing, you patted Max so he would get up. This was never how you wanted things to go.
You saw a future with Hoseok. Even though his lifestyle wasn’t ideal, you truly loved him. It was more than you could say about any other man.
“I’ll see you soon, little man.” You gave Max one last scratch before you secured the door.
Making your way back out to the living area, Yoongi was seated on the loveseat next to the two others who were still in the middle of Mario Kart.
You slipped your shoes back on and headed back out the door to leave the compound.
It wasn’t a surprise when Yoongi followed. You’d assumed he would see you on the cameras and come to investigate.
“I never thought I would see you back here.” Yoongi’s voice startled you. He was still a few paces behind you.
“You obviously did. Otherwise, you would have deactivated my code,” You turned to face him, “What did that cost Hoseok?”
“You don’t call him ‘Hobi’ anymore?” He ignored your question.
Silence ensued.
Shaking his head, he said, “It cost him nothing.”
“I know that’s not how this works.” You may not have been involved directly in this world, but you knew nothing was ever free.
“I have hope for the two of you,” Yoongi crossed the distance,” give him another chance. He’s a wreck without you.”
It wasn’t like getting back with Hoseok wasn’t something you pondered yourself, but you really didn’t want to have this conversation right now.
“I’m not doing this, Yoongi.”
“Fine, fine. I won’t push, but he misses you. Think about it, okay?” He squeezed your shoulder and returned to the others in the living room.
Way back when, before any of this happened, you and Yoongi had been friends. It was before you met Hoseok, before Yoongi joined Bangtan, before all of it. You grew up in the same area, so you were often on the same buses and in the same classes at school.
It was a pleasant surprise to see Yoongi at the first dinner Hoseok had invited you to.
You knew that your separation from Hoseok hurt Yoongi as well, because he lost you too.
Turning on your heel, you made it the rest of the way out without a fuss and got into your car.
As you drove away with the compound in your rearview mirror, you had a feeling it would not be the last time you left this place.
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mirahuyooo · 2 years ago
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Stranded (III) | jhs
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— But, darling, if you hadn’t fallen, you wouldn’t have met him—the one who’ll render you mad and drunk with his love so much that you’ll never want to find sanity again.
word count: 17,476 (PART III) contents: FluFF, skinny dipping (no spicy times tho lmao), deep talks, uncovering trauma, daddy issues, ANGSTY ANGST, y/n discovers the truth behind her abandonment, Theseus, getting drunk, violence (not really graphic), not necessarily accurate (i mixed up a lot of versions and made up some shit), a bit historical?? idk anymore, long explanation & historical refs at to be followed if you're interested, Greek Mythology AU pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader Inspired by Dionysus and Ariadne
[masterlist] | check out [Elysian Tales] & [BTS as Greek Myth Icons]!
A/N: LAST PART, PEEPS!!! LET'S GOOO!! i hope y'all buLLETPROOF for this about to HURT right in the middle 😭😭😭 I'm so glad to have finally put this piece out here T-T it's truly a fav 💖 i hope y'all enjoy this!! (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧
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𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓿 �� | END.
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It was fortunate that winters don’t last long in Greece, because soon enough, the coldness thaws and spring comes to Naxos. Each day is still wound with the shenaniganry that is Hoseok, and today, he brings you back to the pool where you first met the nymphs.
The two of you had spent the day helping the nymphs with their home and making sure the trees they lived in wouldn't be disturbed by travelers or beasts alike. You, too, would have to prepare your home for the seasonal change soon, perhaps as one of Hoseok's followers to help you with renovations, so you wouldn't have to inconvenience Silenus next winter.
Before settling for the day, Hoseok invited you to come along with him to the pool to end the day relaxed, he says.
“What in the world are you doing?!"
You gasp as you see him unravel his clothes, spinning yourself away from him in an instant. Hoseok only laughs upon your averted gaze, mischief in every note of it.
His shamelessness, you find, has known no bounds the more you let yourself be dragged to his tomfoolery. He has changed, indeed. "I say we have a little dip, hm?" he muses, his words later on followed by a splash of water.
Willing yourself to not look past what the water allows you, you steal a glance and see him resurface with a grin inviting you to join him. His dark curls were swiped back by his hands, which soon led your eyes to his naked chest and carved collarbones. The setting sun dims the light within the cave, leaving the rest of him to your unhelpful imagination.
Gods help you. "I'm not bathing with you!" you squeal, scandalized by the mere thought of it (but admittedly tempted).
The expression on his face tells you just how much Hoseok was enjoying toying with you. "You dare defy the request of a god, princess?" he teasingly lilts, leisurely swimming back so as to not tear his eyes away from you.
"Don’t say it like that," you grumble, eyes still bouncing off everywhere else in the cavern but him for too long. He may be your friend, but if anyone else might hear of thi—
"I kid, (Y/N)," Hoseok assures upon noticing your furrowed brows and pout. The moment you regain your thoughts and look at him, he smiles. "But," he then muses, "some company is nice for a little swim, do you think not?"
Chewing at your lip, you mull over his words. It has been a hot time indeed, attested by the nymphs' whines and lament you've been hearing for the past few days. Has something happened to Yoongi?
You haven't been faring well with the heat either—even now—especially when the activities of the day had left you sore and sweaty. Really, you haven't much else to kill your time with either.
"I'll withhold from any funny business, I swear," Hoseok further invitingly promises, chuckling as he swims in little laps before you. "You don't have to strip either," he then muses, but then thinks to himself for a moment. "Though you would lack a spare for change."
Perhaps it was because you were bored, or because you wanted the upper hand over him for once, or perhaps it was something else entirely, but you found yourself making a rather bold move.
"Never the matter, I can—"
"Turn around…"
Hoseok's eyebrows rose sky high at your words, a fiery blush spreading across his cheeks—one that (fortunately for him) you were too embarrassed to notice. Your words came out rather quiet and weak, but it was enough for him to freeze. “I beg your pardon?” he gawked, the most shocked you've ever seen him—and you almost feel victorious. Almost.
Awkwardly, you stood there, hand reaching where your dress was held together by a pin and idly playing with it as you found the courage to speak aloud once more. "I said turn around,” you tell him, staring firmly at him into doing your bidding.
Hoseok does as you ask, still taken aback.
After leaving your dress and undergarments in a pile by a large rock, you quickly part your hair over your shoulders and drape them over your decolletage. "Don't you dare look!" you warn once more, watching him closely. 
His smugness seems to have caught up with him, seeing as he was quick to go back to his teasing after hearing you say those words. "Yes, dear," he playfully sings, "come on in."
Practically envisioning the wolfish grin on his face, you resist chucking a pebble at him. You focus on the present moment, and, finally, set yourself ankle deep into the pool, hands covering your delicate parts. The water ripples at your arrival, and as you go deeper, your hair begins to float around you until you gather them back to cover your upper half.
The moment the water reaches your chin, you realize it's deeper than you initially thought, even back when you were with the nymphs. Perhaps, it's even deeper along where Hoseok is, likely leading further down and somewhere into the sea. And so, heart thrumming against your chest, you idly stay where you were, near the edge.
Hoseok's head twitches to turn around but he catches himself. "Comfortable?" He asks first, turning his head just a little—only to catch a glimpse of you holding onto one of the edges and dipping your head into the seawater to fully submerge yourself, eyes closed shut and lungs holding in as much air as you could.
Immediately, he whips his head away upon noticing you were about to resurface. "Hm?" you ask him in the midst of soothing your hair away from your face, not catching what he said.
"Are you comfortable?" he asks again, swimming a little closer with his back still towards you. "I was about to say you needn't strip but…"
It's dark enough, you decide, for him to not see what he shouldn't, so you manage a little smile. "I'll be fine," you tell him, smiling a little once he turns around. Too late to cower back now anyways.
There were still traces of the wine god's flustered shock, but he does well to steer the conversation away from awkward tension. "Feels nice, does it not?" he says as the two of you languidly circle in the shallow area of the pool. (Hoseok, you notice, doesn't go back to the deeper end. Has he taken note of your inability to swim?)
The thought brings butterflies to your stomach, but you refuse to let it distract you any further. You agreeably hum, looking up to see the sky over the overhead fissure and see the night sky coming in with its twinkling stars. A soft smile makes it to your face as you savor the serenity of the moment, sore muscles easing as you turn back to the wine god, whose eyes seem so fixated on you.
"It is relaxing, actually," you finally admit aloud, sighing blissfully as you watch the water ripple around you. "Though it'd be better to be much more prepared next time."
The wine god breathlessly chuckles, nodding along as the notion of a next time excites him. "No more surprises next time, I swear," he says, his hands raised in mock surrender, though you roll your eyes (affectionately) and know well that won't stop his future nonsense next time.
What you also know is that, at the moment, Hoseok is somber, stealing thoughtful glances your way—the two of you sharing an innocent moment in spite of the bold circumstances. In truth, you had expected a water fight by now. "What is it?" you softly ask, lingering just a little closer as your eyes fully meet.
There's a look of profound pride and joy in his eyes as he gazes down at you. "You've changed, princess," he tells you, voice soft yet it still strikes you hard enough to take your breath away.
"In a good way, I hope?" you manage to jest, dipping yourself a little lower into the seawater as if it'd do well to hide your flustered face—or do anything with the funny feeling in your belly. By now, you're side by side, shoulders and arms mere centimeters apart.
The wine god nods, turning to face you with a wistful smile. "You look happier," he gently notes, tucking a hair behind your ear as he does. "Very much a good way."
While the blush on your cheeks continue to spread like wildfire at his touch, his words plunge you into the memories of your murky past—of being that princess chained to a cruel life—and as you drown in it, you're reminded of what Hoseok actually said—of your change, your happiness that he very much was mostly the architect of. The wine god has broken a hole into the depths that drown you—given you a way out to take if you so please while he waits for you to truly leave it all behind.
You are happier—much lighter, much freer—and that brings a smile to your face. "I suppose I am," you muse, practically glowing in the wine god's eyes, "and I have you and the others to thank for it."
The warmth in Hoseok’s chest is undeniable of his utter reverence for you. "Wouldn't have done it without your trust in my shenanigans, princess," he cheekily claims in spite of his giddy heart. For his sake, he swims back and bit away from you, the two of you beginning to idly swim around until…
SPLASH!
The wine god’s boisterous laughter resonates throughout the cave as you gasp at his betrayal.  "Hoseok!" you shriek, retaliating with your own beat of the water towards his direction. With the sweet, innocent moment now gone, the two of you began chasing one another around the pool.
You knew that water fight was bound to come soon.
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Eventually, the swim must come to an end before you both end up like raisins, and Hoseok summons Agrios, the large cat seemingly knowing well to bring some towels for the both of you to dry yourselves with. You offer the beast lots of pats and rubs as drape the linen over your shoulders. "Thank you very much," you coo, as you sit by the little fire pit Hoseok conjures.
"I was the one who summoned him," the wine god whines, finally taking a seat next to you two. "How come I don't receive any thanks or pats?"
You laugh, taking a spare linen and reaching forth to drape it over his wet tresses. "Oh, what great magnificence, my liege," you dramatically sung your praises, "such fortune has been blessed upon this humble servant!"
Hoseok half-heartedly rolls his eyes, reaching forth to mush your cheeks together. "Only you would dare to treat me like this," he playfully grumbles as you pry his hands off.
"I thought you said this was a very good change," you grin, as you raise a brow up at him. "Would you like me to go back then?"
Fondly, Hoseok's shoulder nudges yours. "Of course not," he scoffs, resting his head on your shoulder with his damp hair tickling your skin. "You know," he then says after a moment passes, "the day I saw you, I was debating on heading here instead, but Agrios was so insistent on the beach."
You find yourself smiling even more, hands brushing through the leopard's mane as he settles to your other side. "Thank Agrios for that then," you softly muse, "and the Fates for bringing us all together."
The greater part of you knows well you would've never thought the loom of fate would weave your life this way. Behind your struggles on the new path you tread, there is solace and tender appreciation for the banter, the surprises, and the menace.
You rest your head atop his as you gaze into the fire, watching the embers that crackle into the darkness of the night. "My life now is a far cry from what I used to live," you all but ponder, eyes beginning to sting as tears pool in them.
Beside you, Hoseok gazes tenderly, his brows starting to furrow and his lips starting to frown. You haven't talked much of your old life, and he knew just the gist of it—terrible father, terrible half-brother, and terrible lover. “Why have you…” he began, mulling over his words, “Why have you not tried to run away before? If it was so suffocating for you, why did you stay in that place?”
Only then does Hoseok realize his question had been insensitive.
"It's not that easy," you say, a sharp edge to your voice that confirms his belated regrets. Whatever responsibilities you were forced to carry had obviously been heavy if it had left you this scarred.
Hoseok gives a gentle squeeze to your hand, apologetically admitting his fault. "I spoke out of line."
For a moment then, you did nothing but stare ahead with a far away look in your eyes. They carry stories he could only hope you tell him yourself. “I…” you began to say, “I felt responsible, you could say. Though I was young when my mother was cursed to do what she had done—”
“Fucking a bull?” Hoseok surmised.
You recoil at his vulgar tongue. “Yes, well…" you clear your throat, "that.”
Eyes shot wide, the wine god immediately reading his words. “Sorry,” he coughed, looking down and wiggling his toes to idle in silence, "I will say a word no longer."
Truly, when he heard of the accursed rumors while he was in Crete, he didn't think the curse was that forward. It wasn't that he found the events disgusting—he had seen and heard worse—just that he came to think of the gods' temperament. The sinner was obviously your father, and yet Poseidon had seen it fit for everyone else in your family and kingdom to also be roped into the consequences of his greed.
“I was the eldest daughter,” Hoseok hears you go on. “I felt responsible to be an exemplary figure for my sisters and for my people. I thought that if I followed what my father says, it would’ve been the best for everyone. My father is a terrifying man, after all.”
Next to him, you scoff at your naïveté. “I couldn’t have been more wrong,” you humorlessly chuckle, your gaze still so haunted and distant. “I still have nightmares of the people sent down there.”
You shiver, and though Hoseok knew it wasn't just from the night's chill breeze, he takes a drier towel and drapes the fabric around your shoulders, as you, whose mind is barely with him in the present, simply let him.
A shaky sigh leaves your lips. “I often think to myself; had father been humble the first time around and apologized to Poseidon, had he raised Asterion humanely at the very least, perhaps things would’ve gone differently,” you confess, eyes shining with unshed tears as a furrow etched itself between your brows in despair. “I always waited for that change in my father’s greedy eyes, but in the end…” you purse your trembling lips where a bitter smile forms. “I had to wait for a sword to end it all.”
At that part of the recollection, you seem to sober up a little. “Father would’ve had me killed without a second thought if I hadn't left,” your eyes flicker towards him for a moment, and Hoseok recognized fear. "I don't think he even loves me enough to spare me a second to explain myself."
In the best way he knows how, the wine god attempts to steer you away from such terrible thoughts. “Your father’s a foul man, indeed,” he agreeably hums before putting on dramatics. “Perhaps I should make him grow horns and a tail if he's so adamant about the minotaur," he goes to mischievously nudge your shoulder, "or maybe I make him think he's a bull himself! What say you, hm?”
You laugh lightly at his suggestions but shake your head, not really thinking he's serious about his words when he's playfully enacting a charging bull with his hands on his head for horns. “No need,” you hush him, “Theseus already did enough damage by killing his prized monster.”
There's a faint falter to his face following your words and it made you falter—made unease simmer in the pit of your belly. "Theseus?" he quips, "the supposed hero of the tale then, I assume?"
Hoseok's change in attitude doesn't elude you, try as he might to keep it at bay. You could only hesitantly nod. “Why such disdain?” you then ask, a nervous chuckle leaving your lips as you try and decipher his expression. He's angry, you think, but why?
He tears away from your troubled stare and faces the campfire, stoking it with a nearby branch. “Some hero he is then," his grumbled words drip with sarcasm so prickly and cold that it makes you wince as though he had directed such poisonous words to you. You've never heard or seen him like this before—jaw clenched, nose flared, and glaring at the fire.
���I beg your pardon?”
Much more to your shock, Hoseok turns to you, nose stubbornly raised high as he crosses his arms. “You heard me,” he said with much more conviction than before. “Even if he slays a dozen Minotaurs, he will never amount to a true hero in my eyes.”
His displeasure towards Theseus somehow makes your heart shatter—makes you feel stupid for some reason, too. “How can you say such things with such sureness?” you huff, defensive, “have you even met the man you are so heartlessly berating?”
Tension rapidly rushes between you both—Hoseok being offended, and so do you.  “No,” he grunts, rolling his eyes, “but from what I see, he is definitely so.”
The wine god doesn't let you butt in, instantaneously laying his ground for arguments. “Leaving a young woman—a princess, mind you—alone on a desolate island to fend for herself isn’t such a heroic feat, is it?” he gritted through his teeth. “Not to mention the possibility that he must've feigned his adoration towards you in order to incite you into helping him kill the Minotaur.”
Your breath hitched, hurt by his insinuations. Theseus didn't really feign his feelings…. did he?
Hands clenching your dress in fists, you glare at your supposed friend. “It was noble of him to bring upon the death of Minotaur,” you sneer, "surely you cannot deny that?"
“Arguably so,” Hoseok scoffs, his piercing gaze pinning you down and making you feel small, “but what of him deserting you here?”
His words were a deadly blow to your heart, quickly killing any of your rebuttals in one fell swoop as that grim day flashes before your eyes all over again—the pounding headache, the empty space beside you, the derelict camp with marks of haste in the sand. The pain you've buried beneath shenaniganry crawls out of its grave to take a ghastly bite out of your aching heart.
You're a fool.
Why are you arguing with him about Theseus? Defending Theseus, no less?
Hoseok's dislike towards Theseus seemed so instant, so easy, that it came to you that maybe you had been blind after all, not seeing the folly of the hero you gave your heart to.
You're still a fool.
You breathlessly laugh with no true mirth that a laugh should have and in that instant Hoseok realizes what consequences letting his emotions get the best of him causes. Your pathetic laughing at your own downfall sends tears down your cheeks that you don't even seem to take note of. “You’re right,” you murmur your words so quietly, so defeatedly that Hoseok almost didn't hear you. “I had not known enough love from a man to have been certain that someone like Theseus would have settled for the likes of me—a princess of such a kingdom.”
You'll always be a fool.
(In truth, Hoseok's heart shatters then and there, guilt seeping in at every crack as he can't find the words to mend what pain he had subjected you to.)
Out of bittersweet reminiscing, you gestured beachwards where a tent of supplies had once been left for you. “At very least, he had the decency to leave a few supplies behind for me,” you poorly attempt to jest, “perhaps, that was enough mercy.”
Alas, the man you knew to be all smiles didn’t budge. Hoseok still gazed over you with a forlorn look on his face. His eyebrows were knitted together, with the ever growing wrinkle between them showing you nothing but frustrations. Why is he still angry?
Realizing then that you had been crying, you quickly wipe your tears away. You've embarrassed yourself. “There’s no need to be so cross with me, Hoseok,” you nudge his side, turning to the fire before you. “If I must admit it to you, I am an idiot to love.”
You feel more of the god’s ire and stare burning onto the side of your face. Was it pity for your circumstances or disdain for your lack of a fighting spirit?
You didn’t know. You didn’t like it.
Hands make themselves at home over your cheeks. Your eyes meet and you see a storm brewing in them—a part of you wanted to revel in it, while the other wanted to run for shelter.
“(Y/N)...” Hoseok began, soft yet firm, taking you aback from one of the few times he’s called you by your name. “You were wronged,” he tells you, “when will you truly tell yourself that?”
His words struck your heart, like lightning would a tree. His eyebrows were furrowed deeper, the upset frown on his face looking so misplaced. This was the storm—Hoseok’s rage for the bastard who broke you to the point where a part of you still felt at fault. 
"He should be grovelling," he said with such fury, "rue the day he left you here."
Hearing such words was a validation and a painful reminder put into one. Hoseok’s words were enough to help you slay the little bitch in you that held back your fury, held you back using the tight upbringings of your father.
All this time, if not avoiding the topic overall, you would blame yourself—be it your careless trust in the prince, or your foolish assumptions of being loved by the likes of him and his people.
Your entire life has been nothing but a force of people telling you it was your fault, when it wasn’t. It wasn’t your fault your mother was cursed to consummate with the bull your father double crossed Poseidon with. It wasn’t your fault a monster was born from such a union, and your father only used it further for his greed. It wasn’t your fault Theseus didn’t keep his word and left you here to rot.
You find courage in your heart to free yourself of your shackles for the second time—(yet another set of chains that bind you, just a bit more and you're free)—and to shout into the storm instigated by Hoseok’s anger.
Then and there, sobs rack through your whole being from the hurt dawning onto you all at once. "I know," you cried, shaking fists clenching the fabric of your dress yet again. You were wronged. You were wronged. You were wronged.
Arms wrapped around you tight, resisting the initial protest you gave them. “I apologize for starting such nonsense talk,” Hoseok sighs, hands rubbing circles on the expanse of your back. "I lost control over my anger and I spoke carelessly yet again," he grits through his teeth, partly disappointed in himself, "forgive this fool and his senseless mouth."
The wine god spends a good second looking at the heartache in your face, and feels his own heart suffer. He didn't want to see you like this again and yet he had failed miserably. “Cry all you want,” he then urges you, wiping at the cheeks of your snivelling self. “Let out your pain and I’ll lend you my shoulder, hm?”
You find yourself surrendering to the comfort, starved for the warmth you’ve never been given. Head tucked in the crook of his neck, you let yourself sob in Hoseok’s arms. You have nothing but the comfort of his embrace—nothing but him.
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Things don’t quite settle the same after that night.
Hoseok’s eyes have been more keen on watching you—how your smile doesn’t reach its fullest, how you’ve become absentminded, or how you’ve excused yourself from most of the gatherings he invited you to. Your heart is in pieces and you cut yourself in the shards without care. The wine god, in spite of not really being one to gently console, has gone through a lot trying to hold it back together.
Here Hoseok was, leisurely laying against the trunk of a tree as the both of you sat under the canopy of the forest well into the afternoon. Beside him sat you idly weaving together a basket—or at least trying to. Time and time again, you cast him a fleeting glance that he makes no comment of.
Eventually, you decide to break the silence yourself. “You needn’t stay here with me,” you sigh, setting your craft on hold upon your lap as your eyes set a doubtful gaze on him. “I can tell how much this bores you.”
He cocks an eyebrow, his lips tugging upwards just a smidge. “I’m not bored,” he contends, though you still look unconvinced, brows furrowed and lips held in the ghost of a frown. “Truly, I am not,” he softly insists, “I, too, can enjoy some peace and quiet.”
You watch as he lays his head onto your thigh, sharing it with the basket-to-be you now couldn’t care less about. Nonetheless, you pick the weavework up to let the wine god make himself comfortable. "Shouldn't you be spreading your influence or something of the sort?" you huff as you once again busy yourself with the basket in your hands.
Surely, you thought, a promising god making his way up the pantheon such as him would prioritize that instead of a measly mortal like you, would he not?
Instead, the deity remains content on your lap in the midst of a quaint forest like it's the throne he belongs to. "They're fine," Hoseok shrugs with careless abandon as he usually does. "My cult won't crumble so easily."
Deep in thought, his dauntless eyes are piercing as they peek up at you even when they don't mean to—the doing of his intimidating, divine presence you suppose. “Enough about me. How are you truly faring, princess?” it was his turn to ask, placing a gentle hand on your shaking ones and stopping your poor weaving when you used it to hide your face from him. “Tell me.”
Whether it was the tenderness in his voice, the ounce of authority he puts in his words, or something else entirely, you sigh and forgo the thought of lying to him. Hoseok has now sat up before you, eyes awaiting any other sign he could take from your expression alone. You know you can deny or avoid the nature of your mind no longer—how it yearns for sweet release from your past yet becomes ensnared by the scornful chains of your contempt and the many questions left unattended to. “I want to put my past behind me, I truly do,” you confess, a bittersweet smile encapsulated on your lips, “but as much I crave for that, I, too, crave for answers, for justice.”
You would do just about anything else than to endure the silence that followed, eyes unable to look at him in fear of bursting the tears you were keeping at bay.
"What do you intend to do after receiving those answers?" Hoseok says after a good minute, sending you into a silence of thinking.
Lips parting, you try to formulate words, to show that you had some resolve over this, but none came out to your need. "I…" your voice cracks as you stammer an admission, "I don't know."
All but another bittersweet smile forms at your lips, your confession leaving you helpless. "But it'd be nice to know of the truth, would it not?" you weakly muse and pathetically steal a glance at the god beside you, only to see him stare off into the trees, his mind lost to thinking of something else.
Another while passes, the wine god beside you seems to be lost in his own thoughts before he decidedly nods to himself. "Alright then," Hoseok finally turns to look at you with a smile soft and comforting, as though telling you everything will turn out alright in the end.
You stare at him, incredulous. "What?"
Wordlessly, the god stood to his feet before you. “Do you trust me, princess?” Hoseok instead asked, offering no other explanation.
You look at his inviting hand—almost glaring.
The last time someone asked you that, you took the very hand that killed the monster of your kingdom, and jumped aboard a ship to flee the treason you both committed. The last time you trusted someone, you woke up an abandoned fool.
But this was Hoseok.
Hoseok, who may have been all shits and giggles, but always looked out over your wellbeing.
Hoseok, who was a god that took you in—freed you from shackles with him and his madness.
Hoseok, who was warmth in a different way than Theseus—a hearth rather than a torch, a home rather than a beacon.
You find yourself taking his hand before you could realize it, Hoseok’s tight, comforting grip causing you to meet with his eyes. His smile softens your resolve, ultimately leading you to surrender to his grasp. “I’ll trust you,” you tell him and something shifted as you said those words—his eyes sparkled more, his smile grew wider, his expression almost fonder than before.
The sky approaching sunset bathes you both in an orange and golden light, but it almost seems to make him glow. “What an honor,” he tenderly muses, taking the hand you gave him and tucking it on his arm as he begins to lead you elsewhere.
Something in you felt like he meant the words he said so jokingly—and you like it.
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"Hoseok…"
The wine god has a lot of surprises up his sleeve, you should've known better than to be shocked when he brought you to a chariot pulled by Agrios and other leopards—let alone to be flying across the sky on it. You don't know what you expected the wine god to do when you took his hand, but it certainly wasn't this.
Around you now are pristine white buildings towering over you both, and in the distance is a statue of the goddess of wisdom you had heard so much about. So late into the evening, there are few people around, and yet you bask in it anyway, wondering how lively the streets become in the daylight when everything exudes such decorum.
Athens is as beautiful as you envisioned it—a marvel to take in and a heartbreak all the same.
Whether it was the cold breeze of the night or Hoseok's touch brushing across your skin as he reaches to catch your buckling form stepping down the chariot, you shiver. The wine god, nonetheless, catches your attention, seeing much of the worry and hesitation in swimming in the pools of your eyes. “You deserve your answers, princess,” he urges as he nods towards the palace, “and I’ll make sure he pays for it.”
And so, the two of you slip to and fro around the palace halls, his powers only getting him so far since he’s never one to visit Athens long—they’re too uptight and rational, he says. The night, fortunately, aids the both of you with the time, having fewer people around to stumble across. Hoseok, all the while, uses his divinity to drive away any guards or servants who become too close to discovering your presence. Your endeavors eventually lead you both to two big oak doors, its golden handles tempting you to open them forth.
This is the king's quarters.
"Go on," Hoseok's hush voice urged from behind you as he set down a now unconscious guard that tried to halt the both of you.
Still, you stood dumbly before the doors, unsure and with no courage to be found. Are you ready to see that face again? What will you say? What will you do?
Should you barge the doors open and say 'Hello, Theseus. Why in the world did you forsake me?' or simply stand before him menacingly like the ghost he left you to become?
Should you let your rage take the mantle and scream 'How could you do this to me?!' to your heart's content or be better and steadily interrogate him?
Should you—
"It'd do you well to think twice before doing anything irrational, mortal."
In panic at the unknown presence, you snap out of your frenzied thoughts and wheel around towards the voice that held an edge to the words uttered. A woman stands tall not far from you both, clad in a white and gold with her head held high, glowing almost otherworldly.
The next thing you hear is Hoseok's own voice, dripping with shock as his back straightens. "Athena?"
Your heart drops in an instant, dread filling your veins. The goddess Athena?
The wine god held the goddess’ stare, dauntless and careless as ever. Hoseok slowly pushes you behind him and opens the doors himself with his powers, locking the doors to the bedroom once you make it inside, too. The handles jiggle, a sign of you trying to come out, but it stops soon enough. 
A sigh and a shake of the head is what he receives from the goddess before him. If there was any rage, Athena hid it beneath a collected, tame facade. “You’re as troublesome as ever, Dionysus,” she drawls disapprovingly, but makes no other move. “For such a futile cause, too.”
With hands clasped behind his back, Hoseok remains in between her and the doors. “We’re simply here for answers, sister,” he modestly says, offering no harm to her subjects. “Nothing more.”
Athena’s brow quirks, knowing damn well it’s a lie. He would curse Theseus, if the exchange ever goes awry for you in any way. “If you wanted answers, I would’ve given them,” she quips, the moonlight illuminating her in such an intimidating way.
Alas, Hoseok is too brazen, too foolhardy to be intimidated. “I think she’d rather hear it from him instead,” he retorts, thinking it best for your much needed closure to face the one who broke your heart. (Only then can he truly come to lull you to love again.)
“It’ll only break her heart to know he really did abandon her.”
Such words knocked the wine god to a stupor. Athena’s face remains unreadable as she said it, but there was a gut feeling in Hoseok’s stomach that told him she was in league with the betrayal. Eyes narrowing to glare daggers at her, the wine god could feel anger rising within him. “You…” Hoseok growls, “did you have him abandon her?!”
Then and there, emotion flashed in Athena’s eyes—anger matching his own. “Do not raise your voice at me, brother,” she fires back with her own glare. “Know your place.”
Reminded of his station in the pantheon, Hoseok curses under his breath. You cannot manage to wage a war against a deity more powerful and influential than you.
Athena raises her head as she lays down her judgment of you. "She's not fit to be queen," she puts it so simply that it drags the frown on Hoseok’s lips further. "Her actions have marked her as a blood traitor. She cannot rule alongside Theseus, and so, she became an offering to you while on Naxos—a bride, perhaps."
The words render the wine god speechless. It wasn’t uncommon for travelers to give offerings to the deity of a region they stay amidst their journey. The chances of you having the same fate may have crossed his mind as a possibility once, but—
It was then that the prayer from that stormy night resurfaced.
… as told, to you, we leave a maiden of fair beauty and heart. May she make wonderful company.
You are the maiden offering, after all.
Having such a fact be confirmed to him after the two of you had been vulnerable to one another, it brews sickly guilt within him. To envision your tears and know that sorry state had been left for him, you had truly been nothing but a tool passed around—and that breaks him.
Still, looking at the grander scheme, his rage doesn’t ease. "Not fit enough to be the bride of a king, but fit enough to be the bride of a god?" a scoff leaves Hoseok’s lips as his heart beats erratically, still trying to make peace with what he had learned.
Athena only glowers, her silence enough to answer for her. The goddess doesn’t end her piece there, however. “Theseus will never love her in the way she wanted,” she says the truth and it’s cold—would’ve frozen your heart and made it shatter if you had heard them. “The people will never take it well to have their queen be the same princess who made them suffer either. She would’ve spent her life miserable here.”
“Don’t be so furious either, Hoseok,” she soon levels him with eyes knowing the truth in his heart and the meaning in his name. “I know that look,” Athena tells him, a smirk on her lips both mocking, knowing, and pitying. “If she hadn’t been abandoned, you would’ve never gotten to meet and love her yourself, won’t you, brother?”
Hoseok can’t bring himself to say anything else. The both of them knew that even if he were to deny it right here and then, he’ll only be lying to himself. 
The goddess of wisdom sees it fit to end the discussion soon. "Leave," she commands the last of her words somewhat both softly and sternly. "Take her with you before the guards are alerted of your trespass."
Just as she came, the goddess vanished out of thin air, leaving Hoseok alone to his muddled thoughts. The doors behind him seem to stare back, daring him to open them to see you.
Alas, he doesn’t have the chance to ponder any longer. His heart drops when he hears shouting from inside.
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The moment you realized Hoseok had sealed you within the room, you were nearly paralyzed where you stood, hands stuck on the handles as you tried to steady your breathing. Go on, (Y/N). You’ve gotten this far. Get your answers.
The room around you is grand—almost grander than yours back in Crete—as it should be for a king’s chambers, you suppose. Soon enough, however, you hear voices.
“...ow has your day been?”
Just as you anticipated, someone’s inside—Theseus. Who’s he speaki—
“It’s been alright. Brother’s letter arrived, the search is yet to be fruitful…”
No. No, it can’t be…
Every step you take, it feels as though your heart is being squeezed right before your very eyes. Your body struggles against what your curious mind wants, as if trying to protect you from whatever was taking place.
It doesn’t protect you fast enough.
Standing in the open, your eyes meet two pairs of shocked ones—Theseus and your sister, Phaedra.
The two of them stood by a vanity table, her hand atop the one he comfortably had on her shoulder. "(Y/N)?" Theseus gawks, the first to speak, eyes wide as though he couldn’t believe he would ever see you alive and in front of him ever again. It twists your heart some more.
In that instant, your brain scrambles to pick apart the scene and make sense of it. Amidst the denial desperate to reserve what’s left of the ounce of respect you had for your time together, your rage is quick to burn the last of your affections for him. You’re a fool. You’re a fool. You’re a fool.
"You seem surprised, your highness," you drawl, voice so cold and sharp that it shocks even you. "Had I truly not been in your plans for your reign, after all?"
The young king before you is eventually knocked out of his stupor, his face molding into an indecipherable stare as he steps forth, his body tense as if you were a threat. “Leave,” is all he says to you after all this time. 
It's like a sword stabbed through your heart.
You look at the man you once loved—the very same man who swore to make you his and protect you now fulfill his promise to you to someone else. “You want me to leave?” you couldn’t help the bitter scoff that leaves your lips. “Some hero you are then.”
Questioning his deeds seems to be successful in getting a reaction out of him, his lips tugging to a frown and his eyes narrowing into a glare. "I slayed the Minotaur!" Theseus bellowed. "You do not have the right to insult me so."
Why did you even fall in love with this man?
"You may have been the sword that slayed our brother," you spat, body running hot with anger as your voice starts to strain the more you raise your voice, "but if it weren't for me—for my aid—you wouldn't have made it out of that labyrinth alive. You wouldn't be able to revel in the glory you're in now."
Phaedra and Theseus’ mouths gape at the fiery outburst that’s seized you, angry tears blurring your sight yet you continue your outcry. "To abandon me on that island and leave me for death," your chest heaves with pained, struggling breaths. "To go and marry my younger sister, too," you sob harder, seeing your sister avoid your eyes behind him and he shields her. "How low can your betrayal become?"
Your accusation makes Theseus flinch, but he remains thick-faced. "You weren't left for death," he denies yet again, "I was instructed to leave you there by the great goddess Athena. I have no fault in this."
The news leaves you stunned. "What?"
Theseus takes advantage of your faltering rage, readily giving you the answer you came all this way for. "I was told to leave you on Naxos as a sacrifice for Dionysus," he crossed his arms, raising his head to defiantly stare into your eyes and break your heart even more. "I’m simply being a loyal servant to my goddess."
While you had wondered once if being in Naxos with Hoseok was your new purpose in life, it never came to you that it had been the actual reason for your abandonment in the first place. Your trampled heart is thrown down an abyss you have no idea how to escape out of. The possibility of divine intervention never even came to you, always thinking to give Theseus the benefit of the doubt he never deserved.
Seeing his indifference, however, your shock was all too suddenly overcome with rage once more. You didn’t know what sort of answer you expected to hear from him, but you certainly didn’t prepare your heart for this amount of heartache. The absence of warmth from the man you used to think the world of, the discovery of your sister’s involvement, and the truth behind your tragedy—you hadn’t thought it’d be one blow to the heart after the other.
Even if he had simply been doing as he was told, it’s as if it had been a relief to have been told to leave you. Hands clenching the fabric of your dress, you try to still your beating heart—try to keep another outburst at bay. "Is that what you are then?" you say, voice hoarse and hurt, "obedient, but with no heart, no remorse for what you've done?"
Theseus fidgets once more, idly trying to reason. "I left you supplies—”
"I had no knowledge of survival!" you scream once again, words strained by the rough use and the ache. "I was trapped in that palace growing up and you did no better by leaving me helpless on that island!"
Couldn't he at least pretend to be guilty for having left you there? Couldn't he at least feign a broken heart for being forced to leave the woman he swore to love?
Yet, here he was—a prosperous king married to your dear sister.
Your sister, who knew of your fancy to the hero that snuck into your kingdom.
Your sister, who was the one to encourage you to meet him.
Your sister, who now holds the crown and title you were promised.
Another stab was taken to your heart. Two people you've trusted your love and faith to had stomped it so easily. You take yet another glance at your sister, who cowers at every word you shout yet clings onto his arm still. "Had I not been fortunate to have survived," you dare to ask, "had I died then and there, would you have felt anything for me?"
They were both silent, guilt written on their faces in a way that told you they would've likely not, had it not been for you appearing before them, proposing the concept now. "I loved you,” you whimpered, the fabric of your dress nearly ripping from how tightly you gripped them. “I loved both of you!"
Theseus, your first love turned first romantic heartbreak.
Phaedra, your beloved confidant turned treacherous thief.
Heart trampled and filled with rage, you want to charge at them, screaming and hitting to your heart's content, but you’re tired—so, so tired. Your knees give out in no time, rendering you on the ground with nothing to support you. Even your lungs seem to lose faith in you, struggling to supply you with air and leaving you light-headed by the minute as you hyperventilate through your sobs.
In your sorry state, Theseus could still only think of himself and his queen. “That’s enough, (Y/N),” he all but demands, heartless as ever over your fallen frame. “Leave or I’ll call the palace guards.”
For once, you find yourself agreeing to the Athenian king’s words. You’ve got your answers. You can’t bear to be around them any longer. Leave. You want to—
The doors burst open in a fury, capturing everyone’s attention towards the perpetrator—a certain wine god panickingly looking around the room. The moment your eyes meet with Hoseok’s, they soften for a moment before they harden yet again at the sight of your former lover and sister.
Theseus’ eyes are wide as your crestfallen form is wordlessly lifted in the air and towards the stranger who readily carries you in his arms, while you wound your arms around his neck and cry into his shoulder. The Athenian king’s heartbeat began to quicken as he realized just who this man might possibly be—the very god he left you to, Dionysus.
The queen is the only one that seems to be confused. “Theseus?”
A hand reached out to signal her to keep quiet, head humbly bowing down, as with one last glare sending shivers up their spine, the wine god leaves with you just as they had been wanting. There’s a terrible feeling settling in the pit of the king’s stomach.
They’ve incurred the wrath of a god.
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Hoseok couldn't cast aside his worry, no matter how hard he tried—couldn't help but cast his worrying gaze behind him where you sat at the edge of his chariot, feet dangling in the air as Agrios and the others dragged the chariot through the air.
The night breeze brushes colder on the shoulder where your tears soaked his tunic and it all but puts more weight onto his heart. As the one manning the whole chariot, his place on it obstructs him from checking on you for too long. Since you two left Athens, he wonders if you’ve stopped crying, if you’re still with no strength in your knees, or if your cruel mind’s been repeating whatever that bastard may have said. 
It was a few painful hours of silence traveling back to Naxos, but it was a safe one nonetheless. Quickly taking care of the reins and wordlessly dismissing Agrios and his siblings to rest themselves, the wine god comes to your side, hesitant to pull you from your trance, lest it summons back your tears. "Princess...?" he gingerly calls out, "We have arrived…"
Before he could place a hold on your shoulder, your body moved on its own, still not with him mentally as you nearly trip over tree roots and crash onto the ground had it not been for him catching you last minute. You seem to stop then and there, letting nearly half your weight be carried by the arm that was wrapped around your middle.
The moment Hoseok notices the slight movement of your head towards him, he seized the chance. "About what happened—"
"We shouldn't have ever come there," your hoarse voice cuts his rambling off, glistening eyes soon looking up at him. He looks back at you with furrowed brows, just as crestfallen. "I shouldn't have listened to you,” your head shakes as you try to pull away from him. ”I shouldn't have."
It wasn't a fair accusation. You knew well you asked for answers, and now that the ones you sought have trampled over your poor, unfortunate heart, your addled mind could only deny it's own fault and blame the one who only intended to help you. You're a fool, through and through.
Hoseok gives you a bit of distance, but shifts his hold onto your wrists instead, keeping you from truly running away from him. "I didn't expect the situation to go so aw—"
“Is it true?”
The wine god is interrupted yet again, and it sparks frustration within him. "What is?” he nonetheless asks, confused for a moment, until he becomes terrified at the realization that Theseus may have told you the truth of what had taken place that day.  
You kept your head down, staring down at where his hands held you. “Was I…” your voice shakes, but it's so quiet he almost doesn't hear you. ”Was I really left on this island for you?”
It seems you dread hearing the truth once again, but Hoseok doesn't lie—you don't deserve any more of it. One painful truth after the other will leave you with more time to heal.
Hoseok knew he had yet to take a wife for himself, his reputation infamously paved with numerous lovers and flings just like many gods of the pantheon—especially his father, Zeus. Pairing that with his lax management of his godly duties has ended him in this tragic predicament, entangled with the strings of fate that twist your heart in its bounds and knots.
(He doesn't want to hurt you. He would never want to hurt you. He'll sit down and untangle this mess forever if he has to.)
As he swore, Hoseok tells you what he knows. "When we came around the shrine that day," he shakily began, drawing idle figures on the skin of your wrist. "I did discover a prayer about a maiden offering left for me, but I thought it’d be a coincidence for it to be you. You were left so haphazardly on the beach, I thought it was a separate incident, until…"
Hoseok could sense your chest shakingly heave before your breath hitches, bracing yourself for the next of his words.
“Athena confirmed it herself," the wine god tells you, watching as your lungs give out a big outbreath of shock and ruin that doesn’t ease your heavy heart in any way. "She saw it fit to have Theseus sacrifice you here, said you would’ve been miserable in Athens if you were to be queen as he promised.”
The thought of marriage with you in Hoseok's mind becomes bitter now that it's been soiled by such a cruel trick. No amount of wine could ever wash down the ugly mark of it. How can you love him after this?
For the first time since, you raise your head, your eyes glossy yet they seem to have run out of tears to shed. “Did he…" your words fall short of a whisper, "did he really have no protests to such orders? Did it come that easy for him to get rid of me?”
Hoseok's own heart is upset at the notion of you still letting that bastard have power over your heart, but he casts that aside in favor of your vulnerable self. All he can do now is speak his truth. “I do not know.”
You become silent then and there, slowly moving out of his grasp and he, unsure of what else to do, lets you. Hoseok's heart would burst from his chest if it could. He watches closely as you roughly wipe at your damp cheeks and forcibly draw your lips to a smile. It's bitter and, like the rest of you, unstable. “Well, the fates have certainly decided what my purpose in this world is,” you say aloud, a breathless chuckle escaping your lips.
You don’t think you can ever hate Hoseok for this—even if you did try—but in the grand scheme of things, you're a mere mortal subject to the gods, the fates, and their will. Always a pawn to someone else.
There was an obvious look of defeat and despondency in your eyes. Hoseok doesn’t like it—mourns because of it. All the time you spent together—raising your spirits, encouraging you out of your shell, and instilling confidence in you—was now all for naught, and it doesn’t help that he’s involved with the downfall of it all.
“(Y/N)...”
“It doesn’t matter now,” you’re quick to shut down any more of his attempts to comfort you, now sure that you’re bound for this misfortune in life. “I got my answers.”
Look at what it got me.
In the near distance, you see the cave that served as the roof over your head for months now—a far cry from the palace you knew, but it was everything. It was home, and now, you’re not so sure what it is exactly—if you can still think of it as a home knowing the man you found, built, and shared it with turned out to be someone you were offered and abandoned to, like an unknowing pup passed from one owner to another.
In truth, a part of you—deep down, buried under all that grief and hurt—understood Athena's intentions, and perhaps, you'll come across the acceptance for it after all the pain subsided. Alas, for now, your thoughts are becoming too loud—heartache, existential dread, and wallowing in one. Time—you need time to think, and then, perhaps, something to make your mind go numb for a couple of hours.
Decidedly, you march forth, stumbling a little as you leave the wine god where he stood. Though an apology weighs down at the tip of your tongue, all you could do is shamefully excuse yourself, eyes cast down and body fidgeting. “I’ll get myself something to drink...”
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When you said those words, Hoseok indulged your need for space, he, himself, thinking it would do good to let some wine soothe the thoughts and emotions overwhelming you. Alas, it’s hours after the exchange, and by the time he entered your abode expecting you to be passed out already, you were still showing no sign of stopping. You’ll drink yourself to death, at this point. “That’s enough drinking, (Y/N),” he tuts, prying the wooden chalice and bottle from your surprisingly stubborn fingers. "You know Yoongi isn't around to give you the remedy for this."
His light jest doesn't do well to deter you. “Nonsense,” you slurred, sputtering some of the wine onto his robes as you tried to chase what he took.
You end up stumbling in his arms, and, in spite of both hands being occupied, Hoseok wound an arm around your waist to hold you up. For a second, he feels your body tense, perhaps mulling over whether to push him away from you or not, but ultimately, you mouthed no protest, too dizzy and too tired to.
The wine god finds himself beginning to understand why the rational, uptight people held great disdain for his masterpiece. Wine and other spirits numb down the drinker, merely delaying the inevitable reality they'll face, and, especially knowing the heavy reason behind your drinking, Hoseok feels upset with himself even more. “You can’t drink the pain away, princess,” he sighs, setting the wine bottle down so his now free hand can brush back the hair that stuck to your sweaty face.
Face scrunching at his touch, you whine and try to lull away from his hand. Through heavy-lidded eyes you peer up at him, almost in a glare. “But I can forget,” you stubbornly insist, a tear sliding down your cheek as your lips quiver. “I don’ know what else to do.”
There’s a frown on his lips, Hoseok could tell, and his brows are furrowed together like yours as he gently wipes his thumb across your cheek. It's easy to want to forget in a fragile time like this, and while wine can make you forget, Hoseok refused to lose you to it. He places the chalice down onto the table, ridding what keeps him from fully embracing you. "He doesn't deserve your tears," he finds himself saying those words through gritted teeth, "or your love."
You don’t seem to be clearly understanding his words, but you’ve let your head fall to his shoulder, burying it there as your hands raise to rest themselves on his chest. (If you had been a bit sober, you would’ve been aware of how fast his heart beats under your touch.)
"M' heart hurts," you all but murmured weakly against his tunic, followed by a sniffle. The words that follow fall from your lips in a dazed and defeated whisper. "Love always eludes me like this."
The wine god’s heart is clenched so tightly by your words that it leaves his face in a pained expression, as if he had actually been stricken with ichor running down his skin. If this was what you’ve come to believe, you’re sorely mistaken, and damn Theseus and everyone else for making you think in such a way. "You are loved, princess," he arduously declares, burying his head into your hair as he hugged you tighter. “Don’t ever think otherwise.”
At his words, he feels your head turning to the side where it leaves you listening to his heart. Hoseok wonders if you could tell his heartbeat’s pace is quickening now. Surely, you do, right? It’d be further testament to his proclamation—proof of the things you do to him, a god in his own right.
"I am?"
It was a quiet murmur, yet it spoke volumes of the doubt loudly seizing your head. Hoseok is crushed and you’re none-the-wiser to every crack your sadness compels onto his heart. "Mhm," he hums, pulling away so his hands can take a hold of your face as he lists the people you’ve managed to brighten up with your presence in your short time here. "Agrios, Silenus, Yoongi, Aldora, Alenka…"
Hoseok stares into your glistening eyes, a smile so soft on his lips as he sees you slowly coming back to him. For a moment, the wine god thinks to himself, whether or not to make his love known to you after all this time. I love you, such words dangle on the tip of his tongue. More than I ever thought I could love anyone else.
The faint scent of his wine on you, however, reminds him of your delirious state of mind, of how drunk it is. A waste of an opportunity to confess, he thinks. He'd rather have you fully sober when the time comes. "And me," was all he could say at that moment, but he said it with as much heart and warmth as he could muster. "We all love you very much."
(I love you. I love you. I love you.)
The wine god watches as you soften at his words, sobering a little as you take them in with a faint smile on your lips. He knows not if you’ll remember this exchange in the morning, but Hoseok hopes you can at least remember the feeling of it, and know that, even if the rest of the world shuns you, so long as he lives, Naxos will welcome you with open arms. “You best remember that, hm?” he playfully chides you, "You are loved."
Your hands gingerly snake from his chest and up to his hands where they rest upon your cheeks, replying with a gentle, meak nod. The last of your tears eased along with the spirits in your veins, the clarity of your actions the past hours now washing over a new sense of guilt onto you. "Forgive me," you softly tell him, gathering the strength to look up to meet his eyes as you did. "I was unfair 'n a nuisance," your words fall over one another, drowsiness bleeding into them as a result of exhaustion from everything that has taken place. "None of it was your fault."
The wine god earnestly thinks for a moment, as tingles travel up his arm from where you started unconsciously drawing idle circles on the back of his hand. A part of him hurts still—both of you are. “You have the right to be upset over what you just learned.” he began, one hand freeing itself from your hold only to caress your cheek. “I can only hope you'll be able to heal from it soon.”
A mellow beat of silence follows suit, as your eyes softly stare back, warm, grateful, and lost in thoughts as you mull over his words. “Thank you,” you whisper, simple words running deeper as the ghost of a smile lingering on your lips.
Encouraged by a twinkle of soft endearment in your eyes, the wine god rests his forehead against yours, savoring the moment while you let him. Hoseok doesn’t think you’re even aware of how beautiful you look in the dim moonlight like this. With lips only mere inches apart, too, the wine god thinks he's never faced such temptation ever before in his life. Practicing poise unbecoming of the wild-hearted spirit he once was, he settles for a mere kiss on the crown of your head. His lips linger there for a moment, and though he didn't want to part just yet, he does so in order to guide you towards the bed. “Sleep,” he casually urges, “you need it.”
Exhaustion easily comes to you as soon as you hit the covers, eyelids heavy as you try and keep them open. Your hand keeps its loose hold on his, a slight tug wordlessly inviting him to stay with you. "Don't leave," you tenderly say, eyes pleading with him in such a way that it effectively disarms any semblance of reason in his head.
Indulging you and himself, the wine god takes the space next to you (unlike last time). Once the blankets have been laid out over your bodies, Hoseok finally rests his head on the pillow. You face one another with your hands still interlocked together, in spite of the shy boundary existing in between the rest of your bodies.
“Good night, princess,” he quietly murmurs into the darkness of the night, thumb drawing shapes on your skin as you did his. “I’ll be right here with you.”
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The moment you wake up, however, an empty space greets you.
Try as you might, the void in your heart persists as you muster the strength to sit up from the bed, the sleep weighing down your bones slowly dissipating the more your consciousness returns to the real world. The search for warmth—for his presence—was so instant, it was practically instinct.
This wasn’t the first time you woke up alone. Why does his absence bother you so?
Pieces of last night come to your mind. Athens, Athena herself, and the confrontation, make your heart hurt more for a moment, but, at the same time, the sweet words, the tender kiss to the forehead, and the comfort of his hand came to you. Though vague and a bit blurry in between, the feeling of it never escapes you, sending you furiously blushing as you bury your head into your palms.
Gods, get a hold of yourself, (Y/N).
The faint sound of music from outside soon draws your attention—a song sounding so familiar. In an instant, your brows furrow together in confusion.
Ultimately, your mind once again wanders to the wine god you spent the night crying to. You need to talk, especially now that you’re sober and a bit better with reining in your emotions. Your head pounds, a sensation you’re very much familiar with, but by some miracle, you manage to get yourself together, and head out into the world a bit presentable.
“Hoseok?” you tentatively call out, looking around the forest that surrounds your cavern for the music.
“I’m sorry to disappoint, princess.”
Heart nearly leaping from your chest, you immediately turn around towards the source of the voice and the hearty laugh you just heard—the speed of which sends a spike of pain to your head. You see Silenus, the old satyr leaning against a nearby tree with his pan flute in hand and a teasing grin. He must've been the one playing the tune. "I apologize," you stammer, flustered to have been caught in such a way. “What brings you here?” 
Silenus' smile turns a bit warmer. "A little bird told me to keep watch while he's away," he knowingly says, making your heart skip a beat then and there.
Hoseok?
In spite of the dulling headache, you hold back the urge to go back inside, sleep, and simply wait till the wine god comes back. Instead, you approach the satyr, gathering strength to converse. "Where did he go?" You ask, bashful still but you waited for answers anyway.
"Somewhere," the satyr simply shrugs, and you're left with disappointment you cannot voice aloud. You settle for a seat by a protruding tree root not too far from where Silenus sat.
The moment you sat down, the old man wastes no time to strike conversation. “I heard a lot happened last night,” he hums good-naturedly. “What troubles you still, princess?”
Consciously, you think to yourself if the frown and furrowed brows had settled so naturally on your face for him to have noticed. Either way, whether it was because you needed another set of eyes on the situation, or you needed to vent out what's left of your ire, you tell Silenus the events that unfolded last night—Hoseok taking you to Athens, meeting Athena, confronting Theseus and Phaedra, and learning the truth. “I know the fault isn’t his. I just…” you eventually sigh, struggling to put your emotions into words. “I just feel toyed with?"
Life, in the end, is very much like the palace you grew up in—an elaborate game with harsh rules you must follow to survive. Yet another role was thrusted into your hands to play—a sacrifice? a scrap for the taking?
"Some part of me finds it hard to look at him the same way I once did, but at the same time…”
I'm not entirely against it—
No. You can't say that.
Beside you, Silenus nods, taking in the implications of your words in spite of you not knowing exactly what you mean to say. For once, you realize, he looks a bit more serious. "Well, the Fates toy with everyone," he eventually comes to say, "thread mingling with thread, stubborn knots ruining a patch or two, but in the end, when all the threads are cut, the loom displays the grand tapestry that bears all of the fruits of the game we played—be it good or tragic."
The talk of the Fates brings back a frown on your lips. The strands have a life of their own, full of potential and calling to one another as they’re spun, guided, and cut by each of the Fates. "What if I don't want to play the game of looms and threads anymore?" you dared to idly wonder aloud as you pulled your knees closer to you. It was an ugly thought, you know, but you've been left too exhausted to stop them from resurfacing, dreading how long Lachesis intended to pull along the thread meant for you when it’s so frayed with misery—how long you’d have to be weaved into the tapestry of humanity for before your thread finally meets Atropos' shears.
It’s the satyr who frowns this time, setting his pan flute aside. "One may unravel as a stray thread, but it's one without any other color," he wisely tells you, "without life."
You mull the words over, a bitterness coming over you now that the unkind demons got the better of you. Your part of the tapestry will be ugly anyway, it cruelly hisses—a vile comment a bigger part of you agrees with.  "I play terribly with the game of life," you cross your arms over your knees as you idly look into the wilderness spanning out before you.
"Then learn to play better,” Silenus chides, meaning well but it slaps you awake all the same. “It depends on who you play with, does it not?"
Threads calling to other threads allow for millions of possibilities to take shape, lingering around one another until an ultimate choice intertwines two or more together in a game of who wins or loses with their experiences. "The Fates can give us an array of colors to entangle with and Hoseok, that silly boy," the satyr grins with a fond shake of his head, "is vibrant—a great thread and playmate to be entangled with, if you ask me."
No truer words have been said, and because it was the truth, you can't deny yours either. "But I don't understand why I can ever be entangled with him in the first place," you counter, still playing along with the thread analogy. "I'm dull compared to him."
The thread of the gods must be glowing and gilded compared to that of mortals. Even at your very best, you don't think you could ever even amount to him.
The satyr sighs, sparking shame from your conscience. "You ask too many questions, princess," he shakes his head and stares down at you. “What if that’s why you were given the chance to be entangled with him, hm?”
You gawk at the old man, preparing for a stern lecture but he maintains a softer, passionate manner. "The two of you compliment one another in many ways," he says so surely, so confidently that it flusters you. "He's wild and you're tame, and so, you teach him how to calm down while he coaxes you out of your shell."
"You both tend to forget yourselves, but look out for the other," he adds, rendering the blush on your face to be worse. "You're practically attached by the hip, too!"
Ultimately, Silenus's words leave themselves ingrained in your head and bring your butterflies to life. "He very much wants to be in your life, and you, in spite of everything else, deprive yourself of him—of all of this."
Is it really depriving?
You think to yourself if your aversion to the divine and your scars from love had indeed led you to this cruel state of mind—of depriving yourself of companionship from someone else. The more you think of it, the more the denial retaliates against the realization. You can't, right? That sort of thing would mean you lo—oh, gods. Do you really?
Seeing your eyes blown wide, lost in arguing thoughts, Silenus knocks down your doubts some more. "Would it really be so bad to play this game of life with him?" he asks, half sincere and half temptingly.
The question begs you to envision it—a life accepting your sacrifice to Naxos and living with Hoseok. When all wounds heal into fading scars and all ache lay buried beneath many happy memories, when your body is spent contently exhausted from gatherings and shenanigans, when you continue to stand at the end of Hoseok's bright, endearing smile for the rest of your life, would it truly be so terrible of a life?
“No,” the word leaves your lips whimsically, a soft smile tempting your lips at the thought of such things. “I don’t suppose it would.”
If Hoseok were to let you leave Naxos—and he undoubtedly would do it for your sake if you so desired it—then, where would you even go? Who else would you run to?
Silenus grins at you seeing the light out of the darkness. “There you have it then,” he concludes, bringing his hands together in a satisfied clap.
In spite of what's left of your emotions still left with questions unanswered, you are, nonetheless, grateful for the time he spent to impart his advice to you. “Thank you, Silenus,” you say, "and I'm sorry."
The old satyr waves it off nonchalantly, picking up his flute once again to play. This leaves you seeking your own peace and quiet to think more things through—especially that question. “I’ll be going then,” you bid him farewell, pushing yourself up from where you sat and dusting off your wrinkled dress.
It was only when Silenus noticed you were walking away from the cave instead of towards it that he spoke again. “Where are you off to?” he calls out, compelling you to turn around with a reassuring smile after recalling him saying he was here under a favor for the wine god.
“The beach,” you tell him, pointing towards a direction you knew all too well. “Just for a walk. You needn't come with me.”
You need time alone to confirm something to yourself—confirm what your true feelings for the wine god are. Silenus seemed to have understood this need for contemplation, as he simply nodded and remained where he was, readily waiting just as he had waited before you woke up.
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With barely any effort, the walk to the beach easily becomes a nostalgic one. Under the canopy of towering trees that used to be so terrifying and foreign to you that stormy night, your feet now wander with a mind of its own, already knowing the path by heart. The sound of the waves that soon reach your ears pluck at your heartstrings in a beautiful melody, and the moment your shoes dip onto the sand, a shiver runs down your spine.
Months ago this was merely some island you were marooned on, and now, it’s everything to you. You know well who’s to blame for this sweet, homely feeling—who’s made it easy to fall in love with this place and hard to ever truly hate for what else it had meant.
A sigh follows one deep breath as you look at the shore, envisioning where the camp had once been—where the Fates had led your thread to meet the stranger wine god. In the struggle within your heart, acceptance was beginning to turn the tide.
Yes, this is your reality now. This is ho—
"Halt!"
Once again, the living daylights were scared out of you, and this time, your heart had reason to pound erratically. In the distance were a group of men, armed with bows and armored in leather. At first, you thought them to be hunters, but as they approached you with the arrows drawn and some with hands on the hilt of the swords on their waist, you began to see familiar faces among them.
Soldiers from Crete.
You were torn between the urge to run and the instinct to stay put, knowing well you won't get far with this many people hunting you down. The latter, however, wins as fear aids to paralyze you. You did your best to seem as collected and civilized as you could, whilst their weapons raised menacingly against you. "So you've found me," it was a surprise to you how you manage to say it so steadily and calmly in one fell swoop. Deep down, you're terribly frightened.
A beat of silence passes.
One of them, you notice, gives discreet commands to another of, what you think, a lesser rank. You're as taut as the bows drawn against you, watching intently as the aforementioned soldier leaves the scene—to rally more of their comrades, you realize.
The moment one of them breaks the silence and makes a charge towards you, you finally feel your body move in response, quickly grabbing sand and throwing it to the soldier's face. As he yelps and clutches his face, you try and make a grab for the sword that fell from his hand, but the slightest touch to the bronze blade was thwarted by a powerful force from your side that sends you flying away from it.
Harshly landing on the sand, your whole body feels on fire. Your chest burns from the half scream and half gasp that escapes you, clutching your side as the pain from the kick brings immediate tears to your eyes. No, you refuse to go down like this. Hoseok, Agrios, Silenus —You have to get back to them. You have to.
You muster all the strength to push yourself from the sand, only to be met with more weapons drawn at you. "Surely, I'm not the only one accountable for this," you sneer at them, chest still heaving. "Father better also have sent his crude soldiers to Athens."
A strong hand yanks your hair upwards, eliciting a pained scream from your mouth. "You're but a felon now," the soldier spat as your thrashing was no match for his vice strong grip. "We do not owe you respect."
Among them was a man who you recognize as a captain of the guards. He has his eyes set on you, stepping closer to tell you a news that shocks you to your core. "The king's dead, princess," he says, voice cold, eyes piercing, and hand guiding his sword to your neck as he watches your eyes widen.
Since your abandonment, you didn't really expect to be able to hear of your father's fate, but you suppose his deeds would've eventually caught up to him as he deserved it.
Two soldiers roughly held you up by either arms, caging you as their leader continued. "Shortly after you fled with the Athenian bastard, he was slain while looking for Daedalus and his son," the captain told you, digging the blade to your skin where it draws a thin red rivulet. "We are here to give him justice."
In spite of your body responding to everything with telling signs of fear—trembling frame, streaming tears, and pounding heart—you speak defiantly and just as harsh. "This is no justice!" you grit through your teeth, raising your head high to glare back at the men surrounding you. "Father's greed is to blame for his own downfall—deceiving Poseidon, getting mother cursed, and having the Minotaur ruin the innocent lives of many. They all lead back to him and you're all as blind as bats if you think otherwise!"
(It's also your father's fault that he managed to build a strong army loyal to him, and now, even in death, he makes life difficult for you.)
The captain's glare turned murderous, nose flaring. "How dare you!" He roared, raising his sword in the air as a look of horror flashed in your eyes.
In spite of your best efforts to escape—wriggling around like a madwoman, stepping harshly on their feet—it's futile, your head instinctively looking away as you wait for the blade to come.
This is it.
This is the end of you.
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The wine god's eyes eagerly search for the familiar clearing, and, in his haste, the whole chariot shakes at the rough landing he had gotten himself. Hoseok sees Silenus under the tree where he left him, lips parting from the pan flute to grin at the young god. "Will you finally tell me where in the world you snuck off to this time?" The old satyr stands back on his hooves and rests his hands on his hips in a playful scolding.
"Just somewhere," Hoseok simply shrugs, but the smirk on his lips betrays the supposed casualness of his absence. In truth, he visited Aphrodite and Eros for a little favor. After all, by the wine god's rules, one can easily earn themselves just about anything if one offers great wine and drama.
(The goddess of love was surely not happy with what Theseus had done. He won't be getting any luck with love or lust any time soon—or ever.)
Never the matter, that's the least of his priorities now. “Has (Y/N) woken up yet?” Hoseok asks, wordlessly dismissing the leopards to rest from their trip—save for Agrios who decided to linger.
Silenus' smug grin brings heat to the wine god’s cheeks. “Ah, yes,” the old satyr nonetheless answers, “just a while ago. Had a lot of things on her mind, that one.”
The talk, the kiss, Hoseok immediately thinks, anticipation setting his entire being ablaze. “Where is she then?” he’s quick to ask, his eyes set on the first place he could see, the cavern.
Instead of that, however, Hoseok watches as the satyr gestures to a direction he knew all too well. “The beach,” Silenus tells him, “gone for a walk she says. If you hurry along, you two might go for a little swim together, heh?”
Hoseok could only roll his eyes at Silenus' words (though he does give the fantasy a thought or two). He wastes no time to walk forth with Agrios quietly following suit. There’s something in the air that makes his insides twist. Is it his anxiousness over talking with you again? Will you leave? Will you stay?
“I don’t look too much of an idiot as of now, yes?” the wine god jests to his spotted beast for his sake, a nervous chuckle forced past his lips. Agrios, who can’t talk in the first place, does well to give Hoseok an unimpressed look without even trying, walking ahead without being bothered by the pout the wine god gives him.
“A little support would b—”
A growl reached his ears, cutting his whine short as the sight of Agrios’ alert and defensive stance worsens the terrible feeling in his stomach. All too suddenly, the wine god’s face falls serious, realizing the leopard was glaring towards the beach. “What is it?” he whispers to the beast, cautiously approaching the beach with Agrios.
The moment he heard the pained scream and yelling, Hoseok's heart dropped.
The moment he saw a blade levied against you, Hoseok's body leapt into action.
The moment he had you at arm’s length, Hoseok's mind could only ever think of shielding you.
"(Y/N)!"
Hoseok, assured by the sight of Agrios coming to your aid and mauling any soldier who dared to come at you both, is quick to use the time to look over you as your shaken knees make you fall onto the sand. The moment he hears a whimper and sees the tears, the pounding fear in his heart gives way for rage. This allowed him to focus on what’s left of the men that surrounded you, all three currently hesitant with the spotted beast daring them to so much as take another step forward.
Hoseok is terrifying when he wants to.
"You dare come to hurt her?" he drawls, his furious presence easily towering all over them with his piercing eyes seemingly rendering them frozen where they stood. There’s been a change in the air—tense, heavy, and almost suffocating. 
Though their swords and bows begin shaking in their grip, the soldiers remain headstrong in arrogance. “Our business isn’t with you,” the captain tries to negotiate, weapon still drawn. “Give us the woman and we’ll leave you be.”
The laughter that falls past Hoseok’s lips sends a shiver down even your spine. “What makes you think I’ll do as you say?” he dares them, taking another step forth.
An arrow is fired.
Whether it was done intently or instinctively by one of the soldiers, it nonetheless managed to graze Hoseok’s exposed arm and narrowly missed your head. There's a look of fear that sets in their eyes, seeing golden ichor instead of crimson blood running down Hoseok's skin from where the arrowtip struck. 
In that instant, they come to realize the grave mistake they’ve made.
All of them fall to their knees, their weapons making a pathetic thud on the sand. Their lips quiver, trying to scramble strings of apologies together but they make no comprehensible noise, all as the wine god proceeds to glare down at them. If they're so bent on such filthy violence, Hoseok decided, then he'll give them the carnage they so seek.
One by one, what's left of the men began screaming, pointing at each other with madness and fear in their eyes. Their own thinking and frenzy fuel the work of Hoseok's curse upon them, and they start running around one another with their weapons drawn.
What horrifying feat befalls them at their own hands, you didn't have the chance to know (nor would you ever want to) as a figure kneels down before you. Shaking hands caress your face, gently guiding you to meet eyes with pools of endless worry. “Are you alright?” he asks, chest heaving as he did.
The most you could muster was a numb nod, thoughts still frazzled from everything that went wrong on your supposed peaceful, reflective walk on the beach. Before you was an unconvinced god, remnants of his rage seething like demons and insisting that the curse on the soldiers wasn’t enough.
That’s the least important matter at hand right now, he reminds himself. Gathering you in his arms and calling for Agrios, Hoseok doesn't waste any more time and usher you away from the scene. The moment he makes the journey towards the forest however, he feels your hand squeeze him tighter.  
"Don't," you say, eyes finally seeking his, but they’re filled to the brim with fear and urgency.
Immediately concerned, Hoseok stops in his tracks. "Why?" he asks, setting you down with the intent to look over your body more closely. "Is something wrong? Are you hurt?"
Your hands tremble where they came to hold onto his arms. "No," you shake your head, looking towards the forest. "More are coming."
Hoseok dismissed the worry, no doubt ready to argue he can deal with them and so you quickly retorted. "What if they're in the forest?” you pour out the predictions you’ve constructed in your head. “What if they see the cavern and come back with even more soldiers?"
For a moment, the wine god contemplates this. Even if more do come, Olympus would have to fall first before he’d even consider the thought of letting them take you away, but right now, you need assurance and time to calm down. Looking over to the leopard in a wordless conversation, the two of them share a look of agreement and after a gentle brushing against your skirts in a comforting farewell, the big cat heads into the forest without another word.
Before you could wonder where Agrios was going, Hoseok intertwined his fingers with yours, gently tugging you along a different direction—the pool cavern.
The cavern looks as pristine as you remember, and the fond memories effectively ease your nerves. Hoseok walks over to the wooden chest you two brought here a few days around the return of spring, and fishes out a linen cloth to drape over your shoulders. "You can stay here," he tells you, as he brushes your hair back. "I'll see to it that they'll never come back here again."
Chewing at your lips, you mull over what words to say. His protection warms your heart, but the thought of being a nuisance twists it all the same. You let yourself fall forth to embrace him. "Be careful," you murmur against his chest, and he responds with a squeeze—a wordless assurance that he will, for you.
Your sole purpose here in the cavern pool was safety, and yet, you all but feel emptiness the moment the wine god leaves.
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Hours passed, the sun settling high in the sky and well into the afternoon. You’ve taken a seat on the edge of the pool, your calves submerged in the water lapped by gentle ripples made by your lightly swinging feet.
It was fortuitous that the silence you’ve been given here has allowed you to do the reflecting that was cut so short by the ambush earlier on.
Before you were so rudely interrupted, you had been warming to the idea of accepting your fate to be in Naxos, and the events that had taken place had only served to further engrave the sentiment into your heart.
Have you gone mad?! You should be scared! the old part of you hisses from its derelict shell. Have you forgotten what divine wrath did to your life? 
Perhaps, you have gone mad.
(What kind of sane person has a heart that skips a beat at the thought of a god cursing someone who dared to harm them, or dare to get even a little bit of satisfaction out of it?)
A new battle brews between mortification and shamelessness at your change in lens towards Hoseok. This was hardly the time for it, you remind yourself. There is much to be done with your father’s loyalist at your tail.
In spite of your best efforts, the time continues bringing your heart’s utter affection for Hoseok and everything on this island to light and clarity, and you grow all the more weary with waiting. You wonder how Hoseok was faring with the soldiers—how everyone else in the forest would be. Mortals may not truly, fatally harm gods, but they are still capable of destruction, and you’d hate for Naxos to fall into trouble if any word of your being here were to get out.
The sound of footsteps makes you jump from your skin, anxiously anticipating who would appear at the entrance with a million questions running through your mind a minute.
The moment you see Hoseok's familiar face, however, relief washes over you, so much so that tears brim your eyes. "You're back," you breathlessly whisper, having enough of your restraint left to stop yourself from pushing up from the edge of the pool and running to him.
It’s a dilemma that solves itself, however, as the wine god, himself, comes to you with a small smile. Hoseok, too, wordlessly rids himself of his shoes and sits at the edge of the pool, easing his legs into the water. "I've sent out people around the island," he informs you as gazed down at your obscure reflections in the water. "We’ve managed to capture a few, but we haven’t a clue yet if there are still others left. We'll have to wait here for news till then."
You could only nod, putting faith in his word as he’s always done his best to fulfill them.
"How are you faring?"
The question was something you expected, especially when the concern in his eyes never went away. "Well enough," you try to dismiss with an assuring smile, but a fleeting glance to his solemn face condemns you to admit just a little bit of truth. "Just a bit sore."
You carefully brush your hand to the side from when the soldier had kicked you away. There was a dull ache that spread across your torso, spiking pain if you breathed a little too deeply.
The grimace on your face as you did so doesn't elude the wine god. “I'll call over Yoongi as soon as I can,” he urgently says, about to leave his place beside you if it weren't for the hand you placed on his knee, compelling him to stay. Hoseok does as you wordlessly ask, but the furrow in his brows remain along with fleeting glances at your side.
His company alone is doing more than he can ever realize, the comforting silence doing well to ease your heart. "Thank you," you speak into the silence after a while, eyes soft with gratitude and a little something more. "For coming to my aid," you further elaborate, but soon correct yourself, "for always coming to my aid."
Hoseok's frown softens, a fond look comes with casual shrug. "I always will," he tells you like it's an absolute truth of the world.
The wine god shifts closer towards you and reaches forth, hand so tenderly on your cheek that you lean into it. His thumb rests just below your eyes, readily there to wipe away teardrops should they come. You, however, hold them back as you muster the strength to tell him what had happened. "My father's dead," you tell him with only a fleeting hint of remorse and a momentary shake. "He died pursuing the architect of the labyrinth and his son," you say, "and they were here for his just revenge."
Hoseok's eyes grew dark at the mention of the soldiers and their twisted sense of justice. "You needn't worry," he declares, "I—we won't let that happen."
The correction he makes to himself twitches your lips upward. "I know," you hum, eyes telling him of the confidence you have for his promise. Hoseok has never failed you before, and even if he didn't you wouldn't dare to hold it against him.
You rest your head on his shoulder, his hand falling onto your lap where it intertwines with your fingers. Returning your gaze to the waters, you abide the time by watching the ripples that form at every languid move of your feet. You pretend not to feel his thoughtful gaze, or feel your own butterflies as you relish idly playing with his fingers.
"(Y/N)?"
Your name falls from his lips, soft yet with a hint of hesitance. Sparing him any intimidation your eyes staring into his might bring, you simply squeeze his hand in assurance. "Hm?" you all but hum in response.
There's a beat of silence—one, two.
"Marry me."
In an instant, you lift your head from his shoulder and look at him for any signs of jesting, only to find none. Instead, you see redness spread across his face as he brings his other hand to fiddle at the lobes of his ear. He's nervous.
Gods, what about you then?! Shock doesn’t even begin to describe what you were feeling. Wha—
Hoseok is quick to sense your frenzied emotions, using the stunned silence to his advantage. “I know it’s what you’ve been left here for in the first place, and the memories of what that bastard did pains you, but I want you to marry me out of your own volition,” he practically vomits all his words, but he's fortunate your heart and mind's utter intrigue over all of this has compelled you to clung onto every word. “I want you to know that I crave to have your being next to mine, regardless of what had transpired for it to happen.”
To hear such words in such desperation, you were taken aback. It may have slid into a passing fantasy once, but it never occurred to you that Hoseok would feel this passionately for you. Gods, you didn't think he'd feel anything strong enough to actually ask for your hand!
The wine god forgoes his anxious habits and has both hands seize yours, both in an attempt to ground himself and in a plea for you to heed his confession—to listen should he never have the guts to spill his heart out ever again. “The moment your heart began to open, I all the more knew you were meant for something greater than how you were treated,” he proceeds to attest, “You're beautiful to me—most beautiful—and when I saw your tears, your grief, there was—is—a strong urge in me to bring a smile onto your face—something that told me you were much more radiant with happiness, instead of melancholy.”
The tears stinging your eyes were becoming difficult to fight back. You look at the god before you, still unsure of what to say. Every word strikes your weary heartstrings, and you could hardly breathe with how blissfully painful it is for your cruel demons.
He wants you to be his? The remnants of your old self can't take it, too skeptical to ever give in to the temptation of love.
Hoseok still tightly holds your hands in his, and you swear you could feel his palms sweating. “If you would so please be my wife, (Y/N),” he tells you, almost pleading in a way desperate mortals would. “I will do my very best to take all of your sorrows away.”
The panicked outcries of your old self—that poor, unfortunate runaway princess—falls into the abyss, only to land onto the plush, homely foundation that is the paradise of Hoseok's affections and yours.
This once-stranger, who saved you on that beach, had stayed with you on this damned island when he could've easily carried on his way.
This wine god, who made you feel worthy of love, had not only made you love him, but also love you.
This Hoseok, who you’ve known through months of splendor, loves you with all of his divine being—loves you more than Theseus ever could.
Hoseok watches as your eyes turn glossy and it all the more makes him despair. “Though I may not reign amidst those in Olympus,” his breath staggers, but determination reigns true in his eyes, “I swear that I shall treasure you and provide to you the life a goddess deserves.”
Your eyes widened even more, tears had long been falling down your cheeks. This is all too much for your heart to withstand.
No longer able to bear holding everything in, you inch closer towards him. “Hoseok, you of all people know well that my heart is in pieces,” your breath trembles. "How much it has lost faith in things such as love."
At that moment, his smile falters.
At that moment, he curses Silenus, Yoongi, and himself for ever hoping.
At that moment, he thought it was all for naught.
“But you're a warmth I will forever be grateful for,” you softly declare, caressing his cheek with a smile and shattering his thoughts. “Frankly, I don’t think you deserve someone like me. I am but a mere mortal compared to you—imperfect, broken, and still hurting,” you tell him, "will you still love me in spite of it?"
"I already do," Hoseok affirms it so ardently that it makes you breathlessly chuckle. "I love you with all of my heart. I'll give you anything," he vows, voice falling so soft you could barely hear it, "even Olympus itself."
He will seize a grand seat on Olympus, one way or another. You will lay on the softest of pillows and dress in the prettiest of silks. You will dine full and drink to your heart's content. You will be there with him and his mother in a palace, safe and sound. “That way, no one will come between us,” he asserts, claiming such a future into fruition. “No one will ever harm you again.” 
Fury burned in every word he swore before you, unbecoming of the carefree, grinning man you knew him to be. "There's no need for such lengths," you tell him, eyes soft and endearing as you shake your head at him. You need not the glory of Olympus or the crown of a queen or a goddess. All you could ever ask is to be with him—be loved by him. "This mortal is already yours," you profess, "yours alone."
With a hitched breath, shock befell the wine god—as if your words were so hard to believe, as if he hadn't at all expected you to love him all the same.
Soon, however, his wide eyes are broken by a joyful grin, his senses coming to reality. He wastes no time pulling you into his arms, the motion of which sends a momentary shock of pain through you. The both of you are reminded of your aching side, and Hoseok, immediately frantic, pulls away in a hurry, clumsily sending you both into the cold water.
Damn that soldier for ruining the moment.
Resurfacing with a gasp, you find him with his wet tresses stuck to his mortified face, which compels you to fix your own wet hair. “Are you alright?!” he asks, still oblivious to his ridiculous appearance as he keeps you at an arm's length to look you over.
With the pain long gone, you couldn't help the endearing laugh that escapes your lips as you sweep his hair back from his forehead like you did yours. A soft smile becomes his wordless assurance, which slowly eases the furrow in his brows.
He then saves face by reaching out to you, this time carefully pulling you into his arms. Your legs secure around his waist and Hoseok happily spins the two of you around, the water easily allowing the both of you to float idly. You gleefully laugh once more, and he nuzzles his head into the side of your face, planting a trail of kisses in his wake. "I've been yours," Hoseok's lips tenderly swears this against your skin, pulling away to look at you with eyes twinkling brightly. "I'll always be yours."
In no time, his lips captured yours in a sweet and soft dance that sent the butterflies in your belly soaring. There's a faint, salty taste of the sea on your lips, and the grip he has around your waist tightens in the name of protectively pulling you closer. Your hands find purchase around his neck, taking the time to weave your fingers through his black tresses. Your heart racing even more as your head goes light with bliss. You could hardly think at the moment.
Hoseok, sensing your human need for air, pulls away to let you breathe, forehead resting against yours as you were left gasping. “I meant every word I said,” he then murmurs against your lips. “I’ll make you a goddess, my love.”
Your heart skipped a beat as your mind drifted to an indecipherable haze. You realize now that even without his wine, you were drunk—drunk in his love and devotion.
His fingers dance along your arms until both hands weave themselves with yours, unraveling your hold around his neck. “I will etch my name all over Greece, so much that they can no longer ignore it,” he vows, a certain maddened mischief sparking in his eyes as he raises a brow at you. “Will you join me?”
You realize then that your hands and body have been pinned against something—one of the cave's walls—as your newfound lover awaits your response. A shiver runs down your spine—an indication of thrill.
Mirroring his spirit, you grin and lean close. “Of course, I will, silly,” you muse, playfully rolling your eyes as you lean away just a little inch to look at him with such soft eyes that it makes him melt. "Wherever you go," you sweetly hum, forehead resting against his, "I'll be there, just as you have been with me."
Hoseok's grin is instant, shining brightly like the sun. "What an honor," he blissfully sings, lovingly tugging you into his arms and lips yet again.
In the loom of life, a bright thread fully weaves with a dull one, effectively making it brighter, too, and from now till eternity, they’ll be strands entangled together.
What a blessed woman you are.
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𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓿 ◁ | END.
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𝓽𝓪𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽: @dreamamubarak @unknownwalkingobject @park-jimin-isnt-real
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silv3rswirls · 2 years ago
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in the dark
Note: another little something for my Music Box story; pt.1 pt2.
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Hoseok found himself waking up at another ungodly hour, hot and restless as he tosses the covers away. He drags his hands through his hair with a heavy sigh. 
Nearly two years since you passed away, and he still had trouble sleeping. He dreamt of you often, some nights the dreams were better than others, not like tonight. Somewhere in his dreams, he’d see you again. Smiling as pretty as ever, waiting for him to join you. He would, sit with you and hold your hand again. Unable to take his eyes from yours, unable to stop talking. 
Together for so long, but not long enough. He had pictured growing old with you, and even now that it’s been two years he still couldn’t sit with the imagination of a future without you. Life wasn’t the same, he was sure it never would be. Sometimes he could pretend everything was alright, convince himself you were just away on a fun trip to help him get to sleep, only to wake up the next day to an empty apartment. He’d get ready in somber silence, and drag his feet to your grave, and spend his day sitting there, telling himself just one more minute until he’d leave. 
He tried to date and move on, but it didn’t work. It made him sick to his stomach, guilty even. He just wasn’t ready, and deep down he hoped he never would be. “I love you” he sighed, turning over and rubbing a stray tear away on his pillow. He closed his eyes, thinking of you. 
“Say it back” he murmured, eyes brimmed with tears and throat burning. “Say I love you back, just one more time.” He choked out a sob, a flood of tears wetting his cheeks. “I need to hear it.”
In the dark, when night comes and dreams overtake; he sees you again.
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taglist: @aris-ink​
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nyoominmin · 2 years ago
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Jung Hoseok fic recs
@hxseok-honee​ - She’s so sweet (Friends to lovers au) // here
@v-hope - Mint choco (Established relationship au) // Here
》 Fic rec masterlist
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girlatmirror · 1 month ago
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bend my rules | jjk
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in which jeongguk jeon, the frattiest of all frat boys, has been trying to get you to go out with him since freshman year, no success. what if the events that occur in junior year change your opinion on jeongguk and you actually give him a chance?
rich! jeongguk x reader
warnings: detailed virginity loss (minors, go away!), use of yn, jk is a little dumb sometimes but he’s a sweetheart, jk is a frat boy, minor mention of SA (nothing too triggering (i hope)), i love yn, taehyung mention 🫶🏼, yn is thick asfff (#needthat), desperate jk, use of both jeongguk and jungkook (i’m an indecisive bitch sorry), he gets the girl!
another scenario with this couple ‘couple’s getaway’ !
——-
Jeongguk needs no introduction. There was not a single soul at Berkeley University that didn’t know of him. Even the freshmen got introduced to who he was on their first day. With a powerful presence, daddy’s money, and unfortunately for you, a gorgeous, gorgeous face and muscles for days, Jeongguk takes the entire world by storm. He had that something about him that makes every guy want to befriend him and makes every girl want to be with him.
He was a business administration major, now in his senior year; his goal? To take over his father’s many businesses when he graduates. He could have done that without college, but his family put a lot of importance on education.
He was simultaneously in a frat and also lived alone in a penthouse off campus. You always wondered how he was allowed to be in the frat if he wasn’t living in the fraternity itself. But he’s the king of Kappa Sigma; they couldn’t vote him out. You met Jungkook at a party thrown by a friend’s friend, who is also friends with Jungkook, during the second semester of freshman year. He approached you with charming confidence, asking for your number. You declined politely, and he has not left you alone since—following you around, asking you out, giving you gifts, inviting you to parties that you never ended up attending, asking your friends about you, pretending to share your interests to get closer to you, and so on and so forth.
The one thing that was good about freshman and sophomore year was that you had no classes with Jungkook. So the last two years, you had Jungkook-less classes, except for the ones he decided to barge into uninvited and declare his love for you. Junior year came, and with it, Jungkook decided to sign himself up for the 18th-century literature class with Professor Sullivan.
Your major was English literature.
Professor Sullivan’s class was one of your favorites—the debates, the topics, the atmosphere. Also, the fact that Professor Sullivan liked you a lot. The topic of this lesson was: the role of women in literature in the 18th century.
"Women in the 18th century played very crucial roles as empowered figures; that is a fact. Authors like Mary Wollstonecraft, for example; she challenged societal expectations and wrote incredibly critical narratives that advocated for women’s rights,” you argued with a steady voice.
From across from you, you heard a voice you dreaded. "Yn, no one can argue with you about the existence of women authors at the time, but were they really all that empowering? I mean, they pretty much all were dependent on men. For example, ‘Oroonoko,’ written by a woman, yet it represents a male hero, while the female perspective is secondary.”
“Well, Ben, if you had taken my argument or really, any historical context into consideration, you would understand that, male hero aside, a woman producing literature of any kind in that era meant that she was asserting herself in a male-dominant, or rather, in a female-submissive world, and that in itself is resistance. It embodies power. I rest my case."
Ben was about to open his mouth to argue back when the door to the lecture hall interrupted him.
"Mr. Jeon, you are half an hour late," Professor Sullivan spoke to the interrupter.
In that moment, Ben became the least of your worries, sexism and all. You felt as if your life was upside down and you couldn’t get it up. What the hell was he doing in this class? This isn’t even his thing; he will fail! He will fail miserably!
"I sincerely apologize, Professor. It won’t happen again," the deep voice apologized before stepping forward and finding a seat.
As his piercing brown eyes found yours, the usual smirk found its place on his lips, and them and their owner made their way directly towards you. He sat down with the same expression on his face. "Hey, gorgeous. Miss me over the summer?"
He put his muscular arm around your shoulder and kept his head tilted to the side to stare at you, admiring the beauty before him from head to toe. You were wearing flared jeans and a tight pink long-sleeve shirt that accentuated your generous breasts. "Cute outfit, baby. Pink is your color; I’ll make sure to buy you lingerie in that same shade."
Before you could answer, Mr. Sullivan stated: "Mr. Jeon, we were just discussing the woman’s role in 18th-century literature. I am sure Ms. Ln will fill you in on what you have missed so far, but I wish for you to pay attention to the rest of the lecture. I know Ms. Ln is much prettier than I am; nonetheless, I hope you can find it in yourself to pay more attention to me and less to her."
The whole hall broke out in laughter, amused at the professor’s wit. Jungkook just continued smirking at you, seemingly also amused at the professor, and you sat in silence for the rest of the lecture, blushing.
The lecture ended quickly after, all the students making their way out, and you would’ve done so as well, but you needed to have a little talk with the man sitting beside you first.
"What are you doing here?" you nearly hissed at Jungkook, who was still sitting, your arms crossed around your chest.
"What do you mean, baby?" he provoked. "You don’t want me here or something?"
One thing that can be said about Jungkook was that he was a very persistent man. Even after your countless rejections, he somehow managed to come back stronger, bigger, and harder to fight off.
"You know I don’t want you here! What are you even doing here in the first place, Jungkook? What do you want?" Your hands were on your full hips as you questioned him.
He looked up at you with a shimmer of amusement and a raised eyebrow, his eyes tracing every curve. "You know, Yn, you look really good from this angle."
The thought of kicking him in the head came to you, but you fought it off. "Answer my question."
"I’m not gonna answer a question you already know the answer to. You know damn well why I’m here; I want you, and I wanna see you, and I want you to finally go out with me so we can live happily ever after and put me out of my misery," he proclaimed, with the spirit of Romeo possessing him.
"You just did, though," you noted with a smirk.
"Huh?"
"You just answered a question I already know the answer to." With that, you grabbed your bag and swayed away from the man, who was too distracted watching you walk away to comprehend that you were gone.
___
On a Friday night, you had a lot you could do: read a new book, talk to your mom, whom you hadn’t seen in two months on the phone, organize a sleepover with your friends and watch a movie, finish the five essays you haven’t finished yet, go off campus and try new food, and if you don’t like it, get the food you know and like and eat it.
But in Avery’s opinion, there was nothing better to do than to go to the Kappa Sigma party. You would usually not necessarily disagree; a party is sometimes exactly what you needed, but not this Friday and not at Kappa Sigma.
"Avery, did you forget the 100 times that I have told you he is now in my 18th-century lit class? I had to see him three times this week for almost an hour each lecture. Those are three hours where I had to see him, where I had to hear him speak," you dramatically articulated. "And if you count the times that I have seen him in the halls, and the one time I saw him in the library, and the one time he came into my poetry class and sat there, watching me for 20 minutes before Professor Sinclair told him to leave, and the one time he came here to give me flowers and ask me out, that makes like a hundred thousand hours that I had to see him this week. I do not wanna go to his party!"
Your roommates all looked at you like you just fell down from an alien spaceship. Nora was the first one to react. "Your math skills are really bad, Yn."
Avery rolled her eyes. "True, but that’s besides the point; Yn, why are you whining that the hottest and richest guy at this entire university wants you and has been wanting you for the last two years? That’s a flex, girl! Now, go put on a sexy ass outfit on that sexy ass bod and let’s. go. out."
"Woooo!" you heard Sasha yell from the kitchen, making you crack a smile amid your misery.
"Alright, but next Friday, I choose what we do," you claimed, with full intention of keeping that promise.
_
You and all four of your roommates arrived at the Kappa Sigma house with outfits that nobody else could compete with. You were wearing a tight, black off-shoulder shirt and a red mini skirt that emphasized your already emphasized thickness. Topped off with soft glam makeup and black heels, you felt like a real woman.
"Welcome, ladies," the deep voice that could only belong to Taehyung greeted you. "Sasha."
"Hi, Tae," Sasha purred, her hands quickly finding his neck, leaning into a passionate kiss.
These two had been a couple for a few months now, after a whole year of being on and off. Despite the stereotypes of frat boys, Taehyung knew how to treat his girl right.
You entered the house with one friend less; Sasha disappeared with Taehyung into the chaos that is the current state of this house. Your other roommates quickly disappeared as well, much to your dismay.
Now, your goal was to socialize, maybe drink a little something, but not too much because of the essays that you would have to write the next day. Your eyes scanned the house for a familiar face, and it landed on one.
One that was looking you up and down with hunger. He signaled you to come over where he was sitting with a bunch of girls and one other guy. You shook your head no, so he came over.
"Yn! I’m glad you came, baby." He hugged you, and you only half-hugged him back. "You look gorgeous, of course."
"Thanks, Jeongguk," you said politely.
You and he had a complex relationship; the first time he saw you, he showed romantic interest in you, showering you with affection and gifts. He never stopped. You always rejected him, no exceptions, even at times where you wanted nothing more than to say yes. Yet he was always kind to you, and you were kind to him (most of the time). Your mutual friends always brought you together; it was as if you couldn’t escape one another—to his pleasure and to your dismay.
"Lemme get you something to drink," he went into the kitchen and came back with a soda can. "Here, I know you usually don’t drink, so I got you a cola; hope that’s fine."
"It is, thank you," you smiled softly and started drinking the cola. "So, you’re interested in literature this year."
You only started a conversation because you knew he would not leave your side the entire night anyway, and you would prefer it if you picked the topic of conversation instead of him.
"Hell yeah, I love me some Samuel L. Jackson," he stated, making you laugh.
"You mean Samuel Johnson, you idiot," you said, giggling as you pushed his strong arm playfully.
He watched you giggle, gazing as if you hung the stars. "Yeah, yeah, same thing, same thing." With his boyish smile, he said, "Look, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by signing up for the same class as you. It was kinda out of pocket, even for my standards. I know the last person you wanna see is me, so if you want me to drop it, I will."
Your jaw metaphorically dropped at Jungkook’s words. Those are words that came out of Jungkook’s mouth? Does that mean that he will leave me alone completely if I wish? What does this mean?
A strange emotion settled deep inside you; you started wondering if you had done something wrong or if he perhaps found another girl he wanted to ask out even more than he wanted to ask you out.
"Jungkook, it is your right to choose whatever class you want to be in; I can’t be mad at you for that. Besides, you will learn a lot from Professor Sullivan; he’s great," you reassured him with a sweet voice.
"Yeah?" He grinned, recognizing that this was your way of saying you did not want him to leave.
"Oh yeah, he is a delightful old man. The stories he has to share are amazing. Did you even know he’s married to Professor Martinez? The reason why she hasn’t taken his last name is that he was against it, telling her, ‘Maria, if you take my name, that is erasure. Erasure of your life before my appearance, and erasure of your beautiful Mexican heritage, Maria. Do not change your name to mine; I am technically your oppressor.’ He told us that story maybe about 23 times, and he made sure to roll the r real hard," you found yourself joking with Jungkook, as your mind took you back to Avery’s earlier words.
It was not the first time that your friends said the same words to you; they always expressed their envy and their confusion about the situation with Jungkook. But you were thinking much deeper than them.
Much to everybody’s surprise, you never had a boyfriend, and you were also still a virgin. The most you did was a kiss you shared with a guy at your high school graduation, which you immediately regretted. You had high standards. For yourself, for your future, for your future husband, and for everyone you allowed to enter your life. It was not about not having options; God knows you had many. It was about knowing for sure that the man you give these things to—your trust, your dignity, your virginity, your love—would be the right one, the one that deserved it. The idea that Jungkook—the man who gave you his undivided attention for two years straight and spoiled you without being asked—was perhaps the man for you didn’t sound so unbelievable anymore.
When you were a freshman and before you met him, you heard stories about him—stories of the parties he threw, the money he had, the many girls he fucked. These stories made you cautious, even though he put in real effort to get closer to you, you were hard to impress, and it was even harder for you to get out of your shell of self-protection.
Jungkook howled with laughter at the things you told him about your professor; either he found them genuinely amusing, or he was just laughing because the stories came out of your mouth.
“So, what will you do?” he asked once the laughter died down a bit.
You tilted your head innocently. “What do you mean?”
He looked at you with such tenderness, your innocent eyes captivating him.
“When we get married, will you keep your name, or will you take mine?” he posed the question so casually, yet so longingly.
You shrugged your shoulders elegantly, taking a small sip from your forgotten cola. “I will probably take yours.”
The words you said that Friday night made Jeon Jungkook the happiest man on planet Earth, and probably all the other planets in the universe.
_
“So, you little minx sat down and talked to Jungkook basically the entire fucking party, and you didn’t even get up once? You didn’t even complain about it!” Avery was almost lost for words; key word, almost.
“What’s the big deal? We talked, so what?” you shrugged it off.
“Everybody’s talking about it, you know. They think you might finally give the guy a chance,” Nora chimed in. “I always knew you would eventually cave; I mean, with those arms and that black card, I would’ve folded a long time ago. There’s a rumor he has a seven-inch dick, by the way.”
Just as you were about to say something, Sasha entered the living room, having just finished talking to Taehyung on the phone. “What are you girlies talking about?”
Avery answered, “Oh, just about Yn and Jungkook getting married and having six kids.”
You threw a pillow at her head in response, and Sasha smirked at the mention of her boyfriend’s buddy. “Yeah, I heard what happened. Tae told me Jungkook went crazy after talking to you, saying that this will be the year that he will claim you as his and that there’s not a single person that can take away the happiness that he’s experiencing at the moment. He literally can’t stop talking about you.”
You suppressed your smile successfully and shrugged your shoulders again. “I don’t see why it’s a big deal. I mean, you all left me lonely at that party, and he was the first familiar face I saw, sooo… I had nothing better to do.”
“God, you’re such an odd person. The guy wants you so bad, just give him a chance. You think it’s not noticeable that you are also kinda into him, but if you weren’t, you would’ve blocked that guy a long time ago, and you would’ve gone crazy on his ass with all the things he does to get your attention, but you don’t,” Tanya argued with a sly smirk on her face. “You may be mysterious to other people, but you can’t fool your best friends, who have been living with you for two years.”
Avery and Nora both agreed with Tanya’s words by nodding their heads crazily, and Sasha said a loud ‘true’ from the kitchen across the living room, where she was preparing five hot chocolates for you.
“I do go crazy; I always go crazy; I always tell him off. You all have personally experienced me going off on him for things he did and said,” you defended yourself the best you could, before taking the hot chocolate out of Sasha’s hands with a small ‘thank you, S.’
“Yeah, but it’s not really a ‘fuck off, I don’t ever wanna see you or hear you again’ type of ‘going off’; it’s more like a ‘ugh, Jungkook, I can’t believe you did this again. Please do it again’ type of thing,” Avery mocked with a high-pitched voice and fluttering eyelashes.
“Oh my God, I do not do that.”
“You kinda do, now that I think about it,” Sasha finally sat down. “I mean, I have seen you pick fights with men flirting with you before, and you are a completely different person with them versus with Jungkook.”
The others thought about what Sasha said, and it was almost like a collective epiphany. They all looked at you with the same look on their faces; almost an accusatory expression.
“You totally like him; oh my God! Yn likes Jungkook. It makes so much sense; I can’t believe I was so stupid,” Nora expressed with exciting energy.
You felt a rush of relief coming over you, almost as if you were carrying a secret that you wanted out. You had no idea if that feeling was a good sign or a bad one.
“Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, girls. I do not ‘totally like him’; I may be just starting—emphasis on just starting—to warm up to the idea of giving him a chance,” you revealed. “But Sasha, promise not to tell Taehyung about this, ‘cause if you do, Jungkook is gonna know by default, and I’m never gonna hear the end of it.”
“I won’t; I promise. This is just soooo exciting,” she spoke. “It’s just gonna be really hard to keep to myself, but I will try.”
“No, you won’t just try; you have to actually not say anything. You forget how indecisive I am; I could change my mind about this in an hour, so if you tell Taehyung, he will tell Jungkook, then Jungkook builds up hope and confronts me about what he heard, and I’ll just be like, ‘Oh, that was nothing; he’s just messing with you,’ and can you imagine how hurt his feelings would be? I really don’t need that on my conscience,” you explained thoroughly, your dramatics intact as they always were.
“Oh my God,” they all said in unison.
“What?”
“You care about his feelings!” Avery exclaimed, standing up dramatically. “You like him, like, like him. Admit it, admit it, please, please, please.”
“Shut up. I’m going to bed now. Buh-bye.” With that, you exited the living room, leaving your friends to talk about your situation for another hour before also going to bed.
“Remember when he got her a Cartier bracelet?”
___
“I will form six groups consisting of four students; each group discussing the topic I will be assigning them,” Professor Sullivan revealed.
“Ms. Ln, you will be grouped with Ms. Jones, Mr. Jeon, and Mr. Davis,” he spoke loudly. “You will be discussing Rousseau’s ‘The Confessions’ and prepare a presentation on identity and selfhood that is due next week, on Monday.”
You dreaded being in a group with Ben Davis, who had been nothing but a pain in your butt since you got to know him, but at least the assignment was the one that you wanted.
Jungkook, who sat next to you, smirked and nodded his head. “They couldn’t tear us apart if they tried, angel; this is meant to be.”
“Who are you even talking about? Who’s they?” Confused by his words, you asked.
“Just the world. You know how much these people hate real love,” he flashed you his trademark smile, making you push his arm playfully.
"Could you two stop flirting so we can start with the assignment?" the annoying voice of Ben whined, sitting across from you, with Lily Jones joining in the seat next to his.
“Alright, let’s dive in,” you started talking. “I personally think the most transfixing part of ‘The Confessions’ is how Rousseau emphasizes his intentions to be authentic. He exposes himself without shame or any sense of privacy, which for the time challenged societal norms completely.”
Lily nodded in agreement; Jungkook was busy staring at your lips as you articulated your opinion, smiling with his arm still around your shoulder. Ben, on the other hand, pulled a face you could only describe as disgusted. “Authenticity? The only authentic thing about Rousseau is that he is able to whine about his feelings like a pubescent girl. It feels almost like narcissism to me.”
"What a stupid take, Ben. With Rousseau writing this book, he laid the foundation for modern notions of individuality; the book challenges the reader to think about their own identity, their individuality," you explained your point further.
“I don’t need a stupid book like this to tell me about my identity or my individuality. It’s literally just a dude whining and rambling about his feelings and whatnot. No one wants to hear it,” Ben snapped.
Jungkook looked between you and Ben while you were arguing; seeing your agitated face when you hated someone made him realize you didn’t hate him at all. You even leaned closer into his arms.
“Well, I think we can use this as a talking point in our presentation,” Lily stated her idea. “How our perception of the book is similar to how we perceive ourselves; there are people like Yn, who confront and explore their feelings, thus creating a healthy relationship with the self, and there are people like Ben, who repress and ignore them, which makes for an angry person; which, by the way, is also an emotion.”
You and Lily giggled at her words, sending each other glances as to say, "God, I fucking hate that guy."
Jungkook decided to chime in. “That’s a good idea. We can use it as an opportunity to dive deeper into the self, to question it. If you are so opposed to Rousseau’s vulnerability, that’s a big indication of your own issues with vulnerability.”
You observed him as he spoke, astonished at his participation. You leaned in even more, to the point where your bodies touched as a way to show him you liked what he said.
“Oh, shut the hell up, man,” Ben shot back. “We all know you’re just here ‘cause of her; you don’t actually give a crap about all this.”
Jungkook simply smirked at him, already having figured out how easily provoked Ben was.
“He obviously cares more than you, ‘cause with that attitude, we are never gonna get a presentation done, much less start,” you defended Jungkook sassily, with a displeased expression sent Ben’s way, who just mumbled, “Yeah, go on, defend your boyfriend.”
“True,” Lily sighed. “By the way, where are we gonna prepare our presentation? The common rooms are always too loud, and all lecture halls are always occupied, and I don’t know about you guys, but my dorm isn’t exactly a mansion.”
You thought about Lily’s concern for a second, and the same resonated with you; your on-campus apartment wasn’t small, but you shared it with four very loud girls.
“We can do it at my place; I don’t mind,” Jungkook offered with a squeeze on your shoulder. “Then I finally have an excuse to invite my baby over.”
You looked up at him, meeting his mischievous eyes. For a moment, you shared intimate eye contact before Ben coughed to get your attention. “At your penthouse? Pff, no thanks. I’m sure a professor will let us use a room here.”
“You are not serious, Ben. Jungkook just offers us to go to his huge penthouse and you decline? I must say, I have never known such a dedicated hater; it’s almost admirable,” Lily admitted her admiration for Ben’s consistency.
“Why the fuck would we go there? It’s off campus, and it’s a penthouse; it’s so… distracting and unnecessary,” Ben debated, irritation written all over him.
“It’s a 15-minute walk and a five-minute drive, man; it’s not in Mexico,” Jungkook concurred, unable to find reason in Ben’s opposition.
“And what’s wrong with it being a penthouse? I personally would love to just hang out at a penthouse. It would make uni work a lot easier, actually,” Lily stated.
“I agree,” you shared, making Jungkook grin like an idiot at the image of you in his house. “And since this is a democracy, and we have one vote against three, we will meet at Jungkook’s penthouse next Sunday; of course, if that works for you, Jungkook."
“Works perfect!” he excitedly responded.
Ben was looking pissed as always; Lily was already thinking about all the pictures she was going to ask you to take of her in the penthouse for her Instagram, and Jungkook and you seemed to be in your own little world, gazing at each other.
“Thank you, Jungkook; that’s really nice of you,” you expressed with a smile, lifting your face to his to plant a short kiss on his cheek.
His heart raced at the unexpected movement; you had never done that before. He froze, his gaze lingering on you for a long moment while you gathered your belongings at the signal of class dismissal. One by one, the students gradually walked out, and you followed suit with Jungkook trailing behind you. He advanced in your direction, watching your hips sway.
“Yn!” he called after you, resulting in you turning around.
“Yes?”
“Go out with me tomorrow night at 7:00, just you and me,” he called out flirtatiously, gaining the attention of everybody around him, but only having his eyes on you.
You grinned mischievously at him before replying, “I don’t know about that… you’ll have to impress me first.”
To anyone else, it might sound like a rejection, but to Jungkook, it sparked a glimmer of hope that made his heart leap with resolve. Until now, it had only been ‘no’s and ‘no thank you’s. He was more confident than ever that he would capture the heart that had captured his.
___
“Yn, what did you do to Jungkook?” Sasha came back from a date night with Taehyung. “Tae told me he can’t stop smiling and is just sitting there, being cheesy as fuck.”
You were writing a sonnet for your poetry class as she barged into your room, looking stunning. “What made him think it’s about me? Let the man smile and be cheesy in peace.”
After Sasha looked at you with a look that said ‘you know damn well,’ you confessed, “He asked me out, and I—”
“You finally said yes??” she quickly interrupted with a dropped jaw.
“Nooo, I said maybe if he impresses me,” you continued. “Oh, and I also kissed him on the cheek.”
“You. Did. Not!” Sasha put a hand over her mouth, a loud gasp leaving it. “No wonder he is a smiling idiot; you broke him!”
“No, I didn’t ‘break’ him; I’m simply doing what I already said I am doing; I’m warming him up, giving him hope,” you explained, putting your pen down. “Because there is a very high chance that I will agree to go out with him soon. I just need that something.”
“That something?” Sasha repeated, confused.
“Yeah, that something; that one moment that makes me go yes, this is the man I want,” you further explained. “I have a good reason, two actually; I’m picky, indecisive, and also a virgin, so if I let him in and then, for some reason, regret it, I will be destroyed. And if I suddenly change my mind after giving him a chance, it will hurt Jungkook really badly, and I don’t want that.”
Sasha looked perplexed and deep in thought at your words, as if puzzling them together and making sense of them. “Oh wow, I never thought of it like that, but now, I totally get you.”
“Well, finally!” you smiled at her and giggled. “Anyway, what are you and Tae wearing to the Halloween party? Cause I was thinking…”
___
You and your girls took Halloween very seriously. You loved the dressing up, the makeup, and you always utilized the only day in the year where it was socially acceptable to be someone else entirely.
Of course, there were always at least six simultaneous Halloween parties going on on campus, and you had to choose between them, which was never a hard decision to make since Kappa Sigma always won. If they’re throwing a party, no other party stood a chance.
You decided to dress up as something cute yet sexy but very recognizable. Last year you came as Jane Eyre, and not a single person guessed your costume right. You decided to go with Chel from ‘The Road to El Dorado’; a white maxi skirt with two slits on the sides, a pink tube top, and statement jewelry with your hair down. It was low effort, yet very effective.
Nora went with Cher from Clueless, Avery of course was Shego, Tanya went creative and dressed as 2010 Justin Bieber, and Sasha and Taehyung were Morticia and Gomez Addams for the night, catching many envious stares.
After all the assignments, the essays, and the overall stress of uni the past few weeks, you hadn’t felt that alive and sexy in a while. Your maxi skirt was clinging to your full lower body seductively, and your tube top took on the very shape of your chest. You looked damn good, and you were ready to feel good too. Promising you wouldn’t drink too much, you took it slow.
Moving your hips seductively to the beat of a The Weeknd song while closing your eyes and tilting your head back, with Avery and Nora dancing together in front of you. Tanya was nowhere to be found, and Taehyung and Sasha were having their own dance party, grinding and kissing like there was no tomorrow. The dancing continued, and with it, the staring. You wished you could just dance at a party and have everybody mind their own business.
After a couple more rounds of dancing and drinking, you felt a firm hand gripping your hips. Turning around immediately, you pushed the guy away and looked at him, terrified. “What the fuck?? Get your filthy hands off of me!!”
Your friends stopped their dancing for a moment to see what was going on. They found Ben, dressed as Patrick Bateman, groping your hips like you were his property. “Just having fun, bird; don’t get all upset.”
Avery and Nora yelled at him, but it wasn’t effective. The scene caused such a huge stir that even Sasha and Taehyung got out of their trance, watching your fight with Ben.
“Yo, dude, get the fuck outta here, or I’ll call the cops on you,” Taehyung stepped in, pushing Ben completely out of the way. “What the fuck made you think you could do this, huh?”
As if he knew just when to step in, Jungkook in a cop uniform just arrived at the scene, asking what was happening.
A very drunk Ben slurred his words in an almost incoherent tone, facing Taehyung. “Look, man, she’s dressed like a slut. So I’m gonna treat her like a slut.”
Jungkook’s eyes widened at Ben’s words, trying to make sense of the situation. He followed Ben’s eyes that were directly watching you, all of your friends and Taehyung just standing shocked, and the only thing between you and Ben was a protective Taehyung. Ben was talking about you.
Without putting any thought into his actions, Jungkook stepped in and punched the guy in his face, causing him to stumble down to the ground, where Jungkook kicked him in the face before crouching down and spitting on him. “What the fuck did you just say??! Did you touch her, huh? Did you fucking touch her? I swear, I’ll kill you; I’ll fucking kill you, man; this is your last day alive, ‘cause I’ll kill you.”
You had no idea what to do in this situation, so you just watched with a shrinking posture, similar to your friends who were all in shock at the scene of Ben lying on the ground, his blood pouring out while Jungkook continued to throw punches. At that point, the entire party stopped and just observed the scene.
"Jungkook, that’s enough. I’d love for you to kill him, but I don’t wanna see you in jail, bro," Taehyung calmly spoke, in order to ease the tension. Jungkook listened to him, standing up; a look that furious had never been on his face.
He turned to you, taking your hands in his, his face softening at the sight of you. “Everything okay, baby?”
You nodded weakly, semi-visible tears rolling down your cheeks. Your instincts told you to hug him, so you did. He immediately pulled you closer to him, his hand on your back and your chest against his as he soothingly rocked you back and forth. Everybody was watching you, but you didn’t find it in yourself to care.
“Come on, I’ll take you upstairs to relax,” he took your hand, guiding you through the crowd and into one of the bedrooms. “Want me to carry you?”
For the first time in those 30 minutes, you cracked a tiny smile, knowing that he was so very serious about carrying you in front of an entire party. “No, that’s fine; I can walk.”
Ignoring the intense eyes of the crowd, you two made your way upstairs.
Your eyes were still slightly watery with tears, and you were still holding onto Jungkook’s hand as you both sat down on the bed. “Thank you, Jungkook.”
He offered you an irresistible smile and brought you in tighter against his solid chest, allowing you to hear his every heartbeat clearly. “That’s my job, baby; no need to thank me.”
“You really didn’t have to do that; I don’t want you to put yourself in danger for me, Kookie,” you spoke against his chest, with a soft, alluring voice, using his nickname to make him happy. “Ben really isn’t worth your anger at all.”
Jungkook took in your entire figure from above you with a gleam in his eyes. “Yn, I will do anything to protect you. I won’t ever allow anyone to harm you.”
You gently pulled away from his chest to meet his loving gaze. You never understood the books where the main character described a romantic encounter by saying ‘it felt like we were the only two people in the world’ until that moment. He leaned in closer, maintaining eye contact. You placed a delicate hand on his muscular arm—too gentle to stop him from getting closer, yet firm enough to prevent yourself from melting into him.
You were face to face with him now—breathing the same air. “You really mean that?”
“I couldn’t be more sincere,” he whispered, the warmth of his words meeting your full lips, his hands firmly placed on your soft, naked waist. “You know, we’ve never been this close before.”
“Yeah,” is all you managed to say, avoiding eye contact.
Suddenly, Jungkook pulled away, standing up, offering you his hand. “As much as I want to kiss you, I don’t think we should do that right now. You obviously drank tonight, and I want you to want to kiss me, and I want you to remember kissing me.”
You nodded and took his hand, not knowing what to say or do. As you stepped outside again, Jungkook’s broad shoulders became your view, him leading you downstairs again to take you home.
“Jungkook?” you said his name quietly, almost in a whisper.
He turned around, watching your shorter and smaller frame from above, looking absolutely tempting. “Yeah?”
“I’ll go out with you.”
___
The week after the Halloween party was exhausting; there were exams, essays, and seminars.
Besides the exams and usual uni duties, Jungkook was very enthusiastic about your first date. Being secretive about what he’d planned, getting your friends to ask you what you expected from a first date in an unsuspecting way, not wanting to annoy you so that you wouldn’t change your mind. It was very endearing.
You were also looking forward to the date, but you were much more subtle about it. Jungkook didn’t care about secrecy as much, telling every single person he knew that you agreed to go on a date with him; the news spread fast, and every student knew about your date.
Taehyung reported to Sasha that he jumped up and down, screaming and shouting out of the windows, “I DID IT! I FINALLY DID IT!” And later, when the pizza they ordered arrived, he tipped the delivery guy 300 bucks and told him, "The love of my life finally agreed to go out with me; I wish for you the same. I wish for every longing soul to experience the same happiness I am in right now, but I don’t think that’s possible because only she is capable of making a human feel this way. Goodbye and good luck, brother."
As for your shared class, he was insatiable. It was about the only time that week where you were able to see each other, and he had made good use of those three hours. In just three lectures, he got you a Swiss chocolate cake with a picture of himself printed on it because Avery informed him chocolate cake was your favorite. He got you a beige rose Lady Dior purse because it "goes well with your complexion," and a pink diamond ring, which he said was "nothing compared to the future engagement ring, of course." Before he signed up for your class, he gave you a gift once every two weeks, so this was a lot even for Jungkook. You told him it was all unnecessary, and he said, "No, this is very necessary; gotta spoil my future wife."
You were drowning in your assignments, your MacBook completely overheating when your name was called.
"Yn! There’s a package for you on the table," Tanya, one of your roommates informed.
You got out of your room confused; you couldn’t remember ordering anything in the last few weeks, and Jungkook usually liked to give you his gifts in person. “Are you sure it’s for me?”
Tanya playfully scoffed at you, reading what’s on the package again. “Is there another Yn here that I have yet to be introduced to?”
You scoffed back, taking the package into your room. Your impatient self couldn’t resist tearing it open to see what’s inside. A note, a small box, and a big white box with the words ‘Givenchy’ on it. Your breath hitched.
The note read: ‘Wear this to our date, gorgeous. Yours forever, JK.’
Almost scared to do so, you opened the white box, revealing a gorgeous, long blue silk dress. Then you opened the smaller box, which held a beautiful 24k gold necklace and matching earrings inside it. That idiot. You smiled to yourself, but quickly realized you shouldn’t.
You were a princess, and you deserved to be treated like one; he was just a rich enough man to comply.
You freed yourself from the clothes you were wearing. Carefully, you took the dress out of the box and put it on.
It fit like a glove, harmonizing with your every curve. The neckline was low, exposing the perfect amount of cleavage.
How did he know my size?
You put the dress back into the box neatly and pulled out your phone.
7:26
Yn: How do you know my size?
7:29
JK: I’m glad you got my little gift. Do you like it?
7:31
Yn: Yes, it is very nice; thank you. It was not necessary at all.
7:32
JK: I’m glad, baby; can’t stop thinking about tomorrow.
7:34
Yn: I’m really excited too.
7:36
JK: Promise you won’t be disappointed.
___
Whistles and girly screams were heard all over your apartment when you stepped out of your room, wearing the blue silk dress that clung to your wide hips and showcased your full chest perfectly; in soft glam makeup and your hair in an elegant updo, dazzled with the matching set of necklace and earrings, a pretty black purse in your hand. You looked the very image of beauty.
“Damn, girl!” Nora let out, impressed by your beauty.
“Does it look good?” you asked. You knew you looked beautiful, but you needed the extra assurance.
“Are you kidding me? You look ravishing, absolutely radiant; your body is just wow,” Avery complimented, observing you from head to toe. “Is that a new dress? It’s soo fucking gorgeous.”
“Yeah, it is; Jungkook actually sent it to me to wear today.” You felt your cheeks heating up at the knowing glances of your friends.
“Mmhmh, he’s a good man, Yn; a good man,” Sasha quoted a TikTok sound. “He’s so gonna freak when he sees you!”
“Is that what was in the package a few days ago? The guy’s got taste; gotta hand it to him,” Tanya chimed in. “When is he picking you up?”
You looked at the clock and answered, “Just in 3 minutes.”
About two seconds after you said that, a knock was heard from your front door.
“Ooooh, somebody’s eager,” Nora wiggled her eyebrows.
You walked to the front door, opening it after letting out an ‘I’ll get that.’
Before you stood Jungkook, wearing black tailored pants and a sophisticated white button-up shirt tucked into his pants, emphasizing his small waist and his muscular frame. In his hand, he held a big bouquet of pink and red roses.
“Hi, Jungkook,” you greeted him with a million-dollar smile.
He observed you with the biggest grin in the world, letting his eyes travel up and down your frame. “You are the most beautiful woman on Earth. Here, these are for you.”
He handed you the bouquet, which you took gracefully. “Thank you! They’re beautiful.”
Your friends freaked out, all attentively watching the interaction.
“Let’s go?” Jungkook said in a questioning tone. You nodded.
“No funny business, mister! We want her home by 11,” Avery screamed while you and Jungkook made your way out. Jungkook laughed, giving her a thumbs up.
“Yeah, you better not try anything with our girl; remember, we see all!” Sasha joined her, while Tanya and Nora made kissing and moaning noises, causing you to facepalm.
“Let’s just go, Jungkook,” you expressed in an embarrassed voice. “I’ll see you girls later!”
Once you were out, you looked at Jungkook apologetically. “I am so sorry; they’re literally so embarrassing sometimes.”
“It’s fine,” Jungkook chuckled, taking your hand in his. “Let them have their fun; they’ve been waiting for this day as long as I have.”
You bit your lip as your eyes met his longing ones.
“Now, let’s go,” he started walking faster towards his car. “I got us reservations at Quince.”
Quince was an Italian restaurant that you only heard of but never entered; it was much too expensive for you to even consider. It was not like you were poor; it was just that Jungkook was wealthy.
You both made your way to the car together; he opened the door for you and then entered himself.
“This is a really nice car,” you stated, taking in the car with a wide-eyed look.
“Yeah?” He started the engine. “It’s a Mercedes-Benz Maybach Exelero.”
You simply nodded, still looking around amazed.
“You know, I’m beyond happy you finally agreed to go out with me,” Jungkook admitted, one hand on the wheel and the other hand finding your thick thighs. “I lost hope there for a while, you know?”
“Well, what can I say? I’m an incalculable girl,” you teased, putting a hand over his, linking your fingers. “You will never figure me out, Jungkook.”
Jungkook’s dimple was visible as you gazed at him while he looked ahead.
“Remember when you told me you’re never going out with me? Well, now you are,” his voice reminisced. “So, I think I will figure you out, Yn.”
You decided to push his buttons a little. “Are you telling me you would wait over two years to figure me out? I didn’t peg you for a patient one.”
“I would wait a lifetime just to get a little piece of your heart and be able to call it mine, Yn,” he professed, his hands tightened, and his eyes gazed at you with yearning.
You didn’t know what to say.
_
The dinner at Quince was a dream come true; Jungkook rented out the entire restaurant for you, the view was breathtaking, every dish was a work of art, and the service treated you like royalty.
“So, do you like it here?” Jungkook asked you as you shared a slice of the best chocolate cake you had ever tasted.
“I love it!” you enthusiastically replied. “It is so beautiful here, Jungkook; honestly, thank you so much.”
The harpist was in the back, playing soft melodies that warmed your heart. You could not believe Jungkook planned all of this for you, and a sense of regret washed over you as you realized this was the man that you had been denying for two years.
“No need to thank me, baby; the important thing is that you’re with me,” he took a piece of cake with his fork and held it in front of your mouth, which you then ate, blushing. “I got something for you.”
Jungkook made a hand gesture, and as if on cue, a staff member came in, holding a framed picture in their hand, handing it to Jungkook.
He held it up for you to see; it was a star map, a very beautiful one. “This is the star map of the day we met—3rd of October, 2 years ago.”
Your eyes widened. “You remember the day we met?”
“Of course I do.”
“Jungkook, it’s so beautiful. I’ll hang it up on my wall,” you admired it while he admired you. “You’re really spoiling me.”
“Of course, baby, that’s my job,” he answered, taking your hand in his. “Now, let’s go; I have something planned for us.”
_
“Where are you taking me now?” you inquired; his secrecy wasn’t scaring you, but you were a naturally curious person.
“It’s a secret, baby. I promise you’ll love it,” Jungkook kept his eyes on the road, responsibly, and his veins ripped along his forearms, your eyes glued to the thickness of his arms.
“Ugh, fine, if you wanna be secretive about this, be secretive about it,” you feigned dramatic annoyance. “Just know that I’m hating every minute of it.”
“I think I can live with that since we’re just three minutes away,” he teased, his dimples evident.
“Three whole minutes of me hating it… you are a very cruel man, Jeon,” you shook your head, enjoying the breeze of the Californian air.
When you arrived in the parking lot of a bar, he pulled up saying, “We’re here!” before stepping out and jogging to your side, opening the door for you. You took his hand, letting him lead the way into the bar.
“A bar?” you asked in a suspicious voice. “Jungkook, a bar is not the place you take a lady…”
He knew you were joking and chuckled lightly.
“Just wait till we get in; you’ll love it,” his excitement was apparent, which confused you even more.
You stepped inside the bar, which was actually prettier than you imagined it would be; it had a calming feel about it. It didn’t look like a traditional bar; there was a stage set up and seats for an audience where about 30 people were already sat.
“Sit here,” Jungkook took your hand and brought you to a seat right in the front.
He made his way onto the stage, which led to you asking him, “What are you doing?” but he didn’t answer your question and just stood in front of the mic.
“So, uh, I wrote a poem a few weeks ago about the girl I love—a girl I have been trying to get with for two straight years and failed every time. I know how much she loves poetry,” Jungkook spoke to the crowd, his eyes gleaming with happiness. “And exactly a week and two days ago, she agreed to go out with me. Actually, this is part of our date; she’s sitting right there.”
He pointed at you proudly; the crowd cheered at the cute story he told and then observed you and cheered some more before letting him continue.
Jungkook looked self-assured, but there were little hints that showed you he was nervous to be standing in front of a crowd the way he was. “Yn, I know your writing is way superior to mine, but I hope you like this regardless. I’m gonna read it now.”
The crowd slightly giggled at his comment, but you could only focus on catching your breath and stopping your tears because you had never expected Jungkook to be as amazing as he was.
“In grand halls where soft echoes linger,
I spread petals, gold on gray floors.
Yet no amount of riches can sway you
To feel what’s in my heart, what I adore.
Two years have passed like silk through fingers,
Each moment woven with hopes and dreams.
But in your eyes, there’s a distant wonder;
You craft your path, and it’s not what it seems.
I’ve painted skies with vibrant colors,
Called stars to shine above you, glowing bright.
But love, I find, goes beyond gold and shine—
Sometimes a simple heart knows what feels right.
Yet here I stand in this space, laid bare,
With wealth at hand, but your laughter’s far away.
I’d give it all, just to share a moment—
To glimpse the dreams you cherish and replay.
Though riches fade like whispers in the dark,
My love, unyielding, still holds the spark.”
The crowd erupted into applause, gasps, and "awe's" and "Girl, marry him's" as Jungkook finished. You sat there, frozen in time and frozen in the words he dedicated to you; your heart beating faster than it should be, and singular tears rolling down your face.
Jungkook left the stage, eagerly approached you with the softest smile. “Did you like it?”
You couldn’t utter a word; you only stood in front of him, shook your head slightly in disbelief, and threw your arms around his neck tightly, jumping into his arms, hiding your face in his chest. You cried.
“Hey, why are you crying? Was the poem that bad?” he half-joked, running his hands over your hair soothingly.
As you finally parted from him, you glanced at his face, adoringly and implored, “Kiss me.”
And so he did. He kissed you hard like a soldier reunited with his loved one after many years; his hands were firmly on your waist, exploring other places of your body—in that moment, you were alone. In that moment, it was only Jungkook and you as you lost yourself in each other.
You stayed like that for a few minutes, lost in each other before staying at the bar for a while, listening to talented poets reciting their work.
___
“I can drive you back to the dorms, or you can—” Jungkook started.
“No, I think I wanna go back to your place,” you quickly interrupted. “Of course, if that’s okay with you.”
After leaving the bar, you entered his car, lips still swollen from all the kissing.
“Of course it’s okay with me; you said exactly what I hoped you’d say,” he smiled. “You know, the girls will probably beat me up tomorrow for not bringing you back.”
The drive to his penthouse wasn’t long at all; it was just enough to talk for a while and enjoy the evening view.
“Oh, absolutely not; they are totally secretly celebrating this because all they’ve been wanting me to do these past two years is give you a chance,” you admitted, also smiling. “Now that that happened, I can just tell you the complete truth; there is nobody more into this than them.”
“Damn, so even with a whole secret support system behind me, it took me two years?” He tsked, finding amusement in the admission. “That’s embarrassing for me.”
You looked up at him through your lashes and tilted your head; he was focusing on the road, but glanced at you as much as he could. “If you were anybody else, it would’ve taken you five more.”
He leaned in to steal a quick kiss; the prideful expression on his face was clear to see. “That’s really good to know.”
You drove around for the next 10 minutes; finally, you arrived at his luxurious penthouse, which was adorned with a huge terrace and a chic entrance that you rushed to hand in hand.
You had already been to his penthouse for the project, yet its beauty didn’t fail to impress you once again; being in this position made it look even more magical.
As soon as you stepped inside, Jungkook grabbed your waist and gently held you, with his lips finding yours again. You stumbled into the spacious yet warm living room. As your lips still moved in sync and passionately, your hands roamed his body, exploring every muscle, every inch. Your gasps intertwined with his heavy breathing, your chest against his. He guided you to the couch and sat down, without breaking the kiss, and with firm, strong hands on your hips, he seated you on his lap.
Your heated core met his clothed, hard dick in sensual movements, the grinding gradually getting quicker and more effective. You felt his hardness press against your covered pussy, leading to feelings unknown to you. Your dress crept up higher with every movement of your generous hips, his hands now on your ass, kneading it while moaning into your mouth.
“Fuck, Yn, you don’t know how fucking long I’ve been waiting for this,” he breathed, breaking the kiss for just a second before going back immediately, earning an agreeing moan from you.
His hands wandered over your entire body, holding your slightly pudgy stomach and traveling up to your full breasts. You couldn’t contain your moans from coming out, your lips moving against his as if they were made for them.
But there was something on your mind that you still had not mentioned to Jungkook.
“Wait, Jungkook—” you interrupted your session with a breathless voice. “I—I have to tell you something.”
He was confused, his face slightly flushed with hazy eyes and parted lips. “Yeah, anything, baby.”
“I’m—I’m a... virgin,” you almost whispered, still sat on his lap, lowering your head so you wouldn’t have to face him. “But I wanna do this.”
His grip on your hips loosened for a second before he firmly grabbed you again. “Oh.”
Your heart sank a little, not knowing what to make of his response.
Just a few seconds later, he continued, “We can take everything slow, baby; we don’t need to rush into anything; we’ll do everything at your pace.”
You nodded, raising your head again to look into his eyes. “Thank you, Kookie.”
“Of course,” he kissed you gently.
“Okay, we can go back to making out now; I just have a tiny problem,” you noted, easing the tension caused by your revelation. “I don’t have anything to wear, and I can’t stay in this dress the whole night.”
Jungkook chuckled and slowly stood up. “Wait here; I’ll get you a t-shirt.”
The few minutes it took him to get you a shirt gave you a chance to take in your luxurious surroundings; the lavish, over-the-top kitchen facing the living room brought a smile to your face, knowing that Jungkook in no way cooked or had any culinary skills whatsoever.
“Here, wear this,” Jungkook came back with a black shirt in his hands. “Next time, we’ll be prepared. Gotta make sure you have your own closet here.”
Your heart beamed at his display of commitment, knowing he was serious about everything he said.
You took the shirt, turning your back to him. “Can you help me zip the dress down? I can’t reach it.”
He obliged happily, zipping the dress’ zip down, his hands lightly brushing over your uncovered back, his lips pressing a small kiss on your shoulder. You turned around, letting the dress fall down, exposing you in just a lacy black lingerie set that left little to the imagination.
His gaze traveled over your entire figure, lips grazing his teeth with a spark in his eyes that conveyed a thousand unspoken thoughts.
“Damn,” he uttered after you put on the shirt, which barely reached your thighs. “Can’t believe you’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”
With newfound confidence, you pushed his chest, resulting in him ending up on the couch once again, and sat down on his lap with an alluring smile.
“I wanna finish what we started now,” you purred against his lips, guiding his hands to your waist. The rhythm of your seductive hips brought his breath to a halt, guttural "fuck's" escaping him.
You quickly stripped away his shirt, revealing his muscular arms and defined abs—all for you to run your hands over and admire, his dick noticeably growing. In response, Jungkook took off your—or his—shirt, leaving you in just a lacy bra, your tits practically spilling out of it; a sight he adored more than anything.
“Shit... please, let me take off the bra,” Jungkook desperately implored, to which you just as desperately nodded. “Just wanna see you like that.”
His fingers toyed with the clasp of your bra before completely unfastening it, exposing your big tits and hard nipples. You were surprised at your lack of shyness, feeling completely free and comfortable, exposed in front of Jungkook like that.
“Fuck,” he growled at the sight of your bare breasts before leaning in, gently taking one into his mouth, sucking it and swirling his tongue around it. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
You pushed your head back from the overwhelming pleasure, one of your tits getting sucked and the other one getting kneaded, while you desperately chased the friction, your thinly clothed pussy rubbing against his dick. It was an erotic experience; Jungkook was introducing you to a new world.
“Baby, if you keep moving like that, I’m gonna cum in my boxers,” he hissed, his strong arms stopping your movements momentarily.
You were both in a state of haziness; desperation was strongly felt in the air. Your pussy was sticky and slick, aching for more.
“Then fuck me, Jungkook,” you whispered urgently, his breath stopping for a second.
“Are you sure about this, Yn?” he sincerely asked, locking eyes with you to look for a speck of uncertainty; he didn’t find it.
“Yes, I’m so sure,” you answered him steadily. “All I want is for you to fuck me.”
With that, Jungkook didn’t waste any time. He stood up, still grabbing your hips firmly while your legs were wrapped around his waist, and carried you toward the elevator, your bare chest pressing against his and your head lazily resting on his broad shoulders. Finally, he carried you to his bedroom, gently throwing you onto the bed.
He looked at you from above, lips caught between his teeth. He hastily put his hands on you, wanting nothing more than to take off your lace panties, the only thing holding him back from seeing you completely bare. So, he did, slipping your panties down your legs until they’re completely off.
His fingers traced your now bare pussy, lightly teasing it, eliciting a gasp from you. “That’s the prettiest, wettest fucking pussy I’ve ever had.”
You blushed, not knowing what to say.
Slowly, Jungkook’s hands moved to the waistband of his boxers, taking them off entirely. His thick, long dick was freed, settling on his lower belly. The pre-cum shimmered on it, ready to enter you at any moment.
Your breath hitched, taking it all in for a second; your eyes widened at the powerful sight before you. He stood above you, symbolizing dominance, while you were naked, sitting on the bed, looking up at him with innocent eyes.
“Can I just…” you leaned forward, facing his pretty dick, giving it a lick.
“Fuck, Yn, yes please,” he stepped forward a bit to give you easier access. “You ever done this before?”
You shook your head, maintaining eye contact. His eyes darkened, turned on by your innocence. Strong hands found your hair, guiding you closer to him.
You gave him more licks and kisses, swirling your tongue around it and kissing every inch of it before finally taking it into your mouth entirely. He was big, so you struggled a little to breathe properly, but you wanted to keep going for him.
“Shit, baby, you’re doing so good,” he groaned as your hands started working him while your full lips were wrapped around him, sucking him. “Just like that.”
Bobbing your head up and down, you slightly gagged around him, but your hand on his hip signaled him to thrust into your mouth further, which he gladly did. The huge bedroom echoed with his shameless groans and praises.
He smelled clean and tasted salty, sort of musky; it was comfortable having him in your mouth. You continued to explore his dick, recalling all the blowjob wisdom given to you by your friends and the internet, and implementing it.
“Baby, I’m close,” Jungkook’s words were barely a whimper, sending more arousal to your slick pussy.
His words elicited desperation in you, desiring nothing more than to give him pleasure. You bobbed your head harder, his groans getting louder and his thrusts quicker. His hands tightened around your hair; it was obvious he was losing control, chasing his high.
The heat was building, Jungkook’s voice getting louder, and a few seconds later, a warm, salty liquid filled your mouth, which you instinctively swallowed. You released his dick from your grip and looked up at him.
His head was tilted back, eyes closed and breathing heavily before he finally looked down at you, leaning in and giving you a kiss. He put his boxers on again.
“You did so great, baby,” he praised, now sitting next to you on the bed. “I’m glad I’m your first... and last.”
You wrapped your arms around his neck, hiding your face in his shoulder. “I’m glad too.”
You stayed in his embrace for a few minutes; he soothingly whispered sweet nothings into your ear. With determination, you started grinding against him again; this time, your bare pussy against him. A rush of blood was sent to his dick, slowly getting erect again.
“You’re driving me crazy, you know that?” Both of his hands were positioned on your moving hips, furthering the friction between you.
“Yeah, I do, actually,” you admitted in a sultry whisper, licking his upper lip playfully.
“Yeah?” His eyes traveled from your eyes to your lips.
“Hmmm, yeah,” you tilted your head flirtatiously, giving in to another kiss. “So, are you gonna fuck me today or not?”
Jungkook chuckled, clearly amused by your directness. “Baby, I just want to be sure you’re 100% sure about this.”
“I am sure!” you spoke with a tinge of urgency. “Can’t you feel my wetness? I need you, Kookie; I need you to be inside of me.”
The contrast of your words and the usage of his silly nickname made Jungkook’s heart race. He felt the urge to take you right then and there.
With a quick shift, he stood up, grabbed a soft towel and put it on the bed, and gently pushed you so you lay on the bed, ready for him to enter. He towered over you, fingers finding your wet pussy again, playing with it. After removing his boxers again, he fisted himself, the sticky sound of pre-cum finding you; you enjoyed the view more than you would admit. He opened a pack of condoms and took one out, wrapping it around his big dick.
“You sure you’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure, I’m sure,” your bratty attitude started to show.
Jungkook came closer, parting your legs slightly, taking in the sight of your pussy, glistening for him. As he approached your entrance, he maintained eye contact. “This is gonna hurt a little at first, baby, but tell me as soon as it’s too much, okay?”
You nodded, your eyes filled with anticipation and nervousness. “Okay.”
He held onto you gently and slowly entered your wetness, eliciting a loud gasp from you. As he entered further, you grabbed onto him tighter, burying your head in his shoulder and clawing his back with your nails. “Fuck, this pussy is so fucking tight.”
“Does it hurt, baby?” he gently asked through heavy breaths, his thrusts continuing to be soft. You nodded. “It’s okay; just a moment and it’ll feel good.”
And he was right; just a couple of seconds into more soft thrusts, the pain transformed into satisfying pleasure that quickly took over, your gasps turning into soft moans.
“Jungkook… fuck me harder,” you begged, pushing him down and closer to you; your bodies sticking together even closer than before. “Please.”
Gradually, his thrusts became harsher, lips moving from your neck to your tits that were begging for his attention and his big hands that gripped your ass. Your desperate grip on his back firmed as you clenched around his dick, causing his breath to hitch. He deepened his thrusts, hitting your walls sensually, introducing you to a pleasure you never knew you could feel.
“Shit, you feel so good around me,” his deep, grunting voice hugged you. “Gonna fuck you stupid; nobody else can touch you like that.”
His ongoing rambling about how good you felt, how beautiful you were, and how long he had waited for this made you feel like you were the most cherished woman on Earth. You couldn’t believe that this was happening. If someone had told you two years ago that you would be in Jungkook’s penthouse, his dick ramming into you deliciously; you would laugh in their face. But here you were.
To add an element of surprise, you suddenly changed the position, turning the both of you around and pushing him down to the bed, taking control as you rode him up and down. A cocky smirk formed on his annoyingly pretty face, looking up at you in admiration.
“You learn quick,” he praised in a grunt, putting his head between your bouncing tits.
You were too lost in pleasure to respond, your ass clapping against his balls and your hands were all over his broad upper body, savoring every inch of him. Your head tilted back in bliss as his dick slipped in and out of your wet, tight pussy; a sight that Jungkook enjoyed very much.
“Baby, I’m close, shit… I’m so fucking close,” he informed with a breathy voice, bitten lips, and hazy eyes, dick thrusting up more desperately than before.
Your walls tightened more around his throbbing dick, indicating to him that you were also close. “Yeah? Me too, baby.”
After a minute of passionate thrusting and bouncing, Jungkook’s body suddenly tensed, reaching the edge. He released a warm flood of cum with a loud “fuck” coming out of his mouth.
With a grind of your hips, a moment later, you also reached a pinnacle, your breath hitching and your eyes closed. You got off of Jungkook and laid next to him on the bed, both of you still trying to come down from the high you experienced.
He slowly stood up, grabbed the bloodstained towel he laid under you to put it in the washing basket, leaning down to plant a kiss on your lips. “You did so good, you know that?”
You simply smiled sheepishly, also getting up to clean yourself and pee. When you came back from Jungkook’s extravagant bathroom, he was lying on the bed now wearing boxers with an eager smile. “Come here.”
You obliged with swaying hips, your naked figure waltzing over to his king-size bed, laying your head on his chest. “Today was amazing, Jungkook. Thank you for everything.”
He held your hand in his, kissing your head gently. “Baby, that was nothing; I wanna thank you for everything. It’s really special to me, what you did.”
“It was easy, being with you and all,” you admitted in a soft voice. “You know, I feel surprisingly very comfortable with you, Jungkook; it’s weird.”
That made him chuckle; his chest left a vibration. “I think I’m gonna take that as a compliment…?”
“You should.”
“I don’t think this needs to be said, but I hope you know this means we’re together now,” Jungkook started, now looking deeply into your eyes from above. “Like an item, a thing, boyfriend and girlfriend, soon to be wed, a coup—”
You stopped him with a giggle, laying a loving hand on his chest. “I get it, Jungkook, and I know.”
“Good.” He tightened his grip on your shoulder, smirking as he looked down at your naked body. “Next time, I wanna cum inside; so you better get started with birth control.”
“Jungkook!!”
——-
i hope whoever reads this enjoyed it🫶🏽🫶🏽 btw the poem is completely AI generated😭 i really wanna make this sort of a series like write a bunch of different scenarios for this couple; pls tell me your opinion on that.
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dreamescapeswriting · 8 months ago
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Teach Me To Dance ~ JHS
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⤜WORD COUNT: 1.4K
⤜GENRE: Established relationships, reader wanting to lose weight and Hoseok being the supportive baby boy that he is, TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of losing weight, and calories
⤜PAIRING: Hoseok x Fem!Reader
⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - April 2024
⤜MASTERLIST
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You and Hoseok had decided to go out and spend the morning at your favourite spot by the Han River, it was a secluded area where just the two of you could relax without the fear that someone was going to capture you both in a photo. Everything about this spot was perfect, the tranquil waters, to the sound of the wind in the air and the occasional sound of water splashing around.
You'd arrived earlier that morning, spreading out a soft blanket on the grass and setting up a small picnic with sandwiches, fruits and a thermos of hot coffee. You'd spent the whole morning leisurely chatting and enjoying each other's company but Hoseok could tell that there was something playing on your mind but he knew not to push you.
If he pushed you too fast and too hard then there would be a chance you'd shut down and tell him that there was nothing wrong - even if there was. Hoseok knew you better than he knew himself sometimes and he needed you to be okay, he needed to know if there was something bothering you or not.
"I feel like we've hardly done this lately," You admit, laughing softly as you lay your head on Hoseok's shoulder, you'd been wanting to spend some time along like this for a while. With his life being the way that it was, you were either always spending time with the boys around or you were just asleep together in bed at night. It was the first time you were going to be able to be alone and actually ask your boyfriend something you'd been dying to ask for him a while. 
You probably could have asked in front of the others as well but it was difficult for you to do it. It was hard for you to admit you needed help with something, you liked to think of yourself as someone who could do a lot of things alone.
"I've missed it," He admits, chuckling a little until he realised the expression on your face had turned serious and you'd gone into your head. He knew the look on your face was the one you made whenever you were overthinking. 
"What's going on, baby? You've been quiet," He tells you, his voice laced with concern as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. Your eyes downcast to your hands as you played with your fingers trying not to seem as anxious about this as you were.
"Yn..." He trailed off, placing his hand on top of yours. You hesitate for a moment before taking in a deep breath,
"I've been...feeling insecure lately," You finally admit, refusing to look at him. You didn't want to lose confidence or focus and you knew if you looked at him you'd never be able to admit it out loud.
"Insecure? About what?" He frowned, his mind now racing with worry at the thought of it. He'd do whatever he could to help you.
"I...I want to lose some weight." You admit, your voice barely coming out above a whisper. Hoseok's heart sank, he hated seeing you upset, especially about something like this, something he didn't think you needed to change.
"Baby," He starts, he knew he needed to approach this carefully so he didn't hurt your feelings, or make you feel worse than you already did,
"You're perfect just the way you are. You don't need to change a thing," You looked up at him, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears that were threatening to spill out at any moment. You'd been feeling like this for a while now and it was getting closer to the day your relationship would be revealed and you wanted to make sure you were toned enough to be ready for it. 
"But I want to, Hoseok. I want to feel better about myself." You mumble, looking down at your hands suddenly feeling silly for bringing it up and instantly wanting to take it back.  Hoseok sighed softly, realizing that arguing with you wouldn't solve anything and he didn't want to start a fight over something you were insecure about. 
Instead, he reached out and gently took your hand in his, squeezing softly and rubbing his fingers over your skin. 
"Okay, if that's what you want. But promise me you'll be careful, alright?" Relief rushed over you as you realised he was going to help you, you nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. 
"I promise." You held your pinky out for him to take,
"Good," Hoseok said, returning your smile and wrapping his pinky around yours.
"I want you to teach me how to dance," You suggested to him, it was going to be a good way to burn any calories. Hoseok's eyes lit up as you suggested it and a blush began to settle on his cheeks.
"Yeah, it's a great way to burn calories and have fun at the same time," Hoseok expressed. 
"Plus, I happen to be an excellent dancer." He winked at you, and you giggled before playfully rolling your eyes. 
"Is that so? Well then, teach me, oh great dance master." You said dramatically before Hoseok wrapped his arms around you and began to tickle you, making you squeal out and wriggle away from him. 
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You'd been to the HYBE dance studios a bunch of times but nothing compared to Hoseok's dance studio, it was a cosy space filled with mirrors lining one wall, reflecting the sunlight streaming in through the large windows. The wooden floor echoed with the soft shuffle of your feet as Hoseok led you to the centre of the room.
"Okay, babe, let's start with something simple," He said, a grin spreading across his face as he took your hands in his. You nodded eagerly, your eyes shining with determination. 
"I'm ready." You giggled. Hoseok began to move, guiding you through the basic steps of a waltz, it wasn't a huge dance but it was something he wanted to teach you to warm up into bigger dances later. He demonstrated each movement with grace and precision, his movements fluid and effortless.
You watched him intently, trying to mimic his steps as best you could. At first, you stumbled and faltered, your movements clumsy and awkward. But Hoseok was patient, offering words of encouragement and gentle corrections as you danced together. With each passing moment, your confidence grew, and your movements became more fluid and graceful. You laughed with delight as you twirled and spun around the room, lost in the music and the joy of dancing together.
As the two of you danced, Hoseok couldn't help but admire your determination, he knew that once you put your mind to something nothing would stop you and he was happy to help in anyway he thought he could. You may have been insecure about your appearance, but there was a strength and beauty in you that he found truly captivating. 
After what felt like hours, you finally came to a stop, your breath coming in short gasps as the two of you grinned at each other, cheeks flushed with exertion, beads of sweat dripping down your heads as you fell onto the floor and relaxed a little. 
"You did great, YN," Hoseok said, pulling you into a warm embrace as you laid your head on his chest. This had been the best idea ever, you already knew the two of you were going to have so much fun on your weight loss journey. 
"I'm so proud of you." The words were like music to your ears as you beamed up at him, your eyes sparkling with happiness.
"Thanks, Hobi. I couldn't have done it without you." The two of you cuddled closer together, catching your breath and relaxing on the floor of the dance studio. You knew it was going to be a fun weight loss journey, not something that filled you with dread everytime you went into it.
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kingofbodyrolls · 17 days ago
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Perfect Strangers (m) | jhs
When a man as warm as a crackling hearth steps into your cozy bookstore seeking the perfect gift for his friend’s Christmas party, you can’t help but offer him your brightest smile. But when he returns days later, with a spark in his eye and a bold request—to be his pretend girlfriend for this very party—you think, Why not? After all, Christmas is a time for a little magic, a little whimsy. Yet as you step deeper into his world, you discover a heart weighed down by scars from the past, a man more complex than the merry mask he wears. Still, what’s Christmas without a little hope, a touch of wonder, and a heart ready to spread the joy it knows so well?
→ Pairing: hoseok x reader (female) → AUs: bookstore!au, coffee shop!au, christmas!au, holiday!au → Trope: strangers to lovers / fake dating → Genres: fluff / angst / smut / romance → Rating: mature/explicit/R18  (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 19.7k → Warnings + triggers: unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, oral (both), fingering, breast play, cum eating, hair pulling, dirty talk, praise kink, Hobi was a huge cock, creampie, aftercare, marking.  → Author’s note: guess who’s back with another Christmas gift? Me! 🎁 And this time, we’re unwrapping a Hoseok story! 🥳 Brace yourselves, because this one’s got ALL. THE. FEELS. Seriously, it’s like a snowstorm of emotions—pretty sad at times, but also as warm and sweet as your favorite cup of cocoa on a chilly night ☕🫂 Because let’s be real, who doesn’t need a good hug this season? I actually wrote this in November, and it gave me all the feels while writing it. I hope you’ll love it just as much as I do—and please, pretty please, shower our sunshine Hobi with all the love and virtual hugs he deserves ☀️💛 → Read the spoiler? [text messages]  → Read on AO3? [link] 
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The air bites, sharp and unforgiving, and snow tumbles in silent waves. Hoseok pulls his green parka tighter, hands buried deep in his pockets, bracing against the chill that feels as much within him as without. He hates this season—Christmas and all its garish lights, the forced smiles and saccharine cheer that feel like hollow echoes in his ears. Every year, it pulls him back to a time when something precious slipped away, leaving only empty echoes and a bitter frost in its place.
He trudges through the drifts, his boots crunching with each step as he scuffs at the snow like it’s a living thing to be kicked away. Snow. He despises it—the memories it brings, the losses buried in its whiteness. Sighing, he drags his mind away, trying to escape from the grip of the past as he remembers his unfortunate task: a gift for Namjoon, drawn by fate and the iron-clad rules of Secret Santa. Namjoon, who seems like he’d raise an eyebrow at any attempt to impress him. What do you buy for a man whose tastes are as precise as clockwork? Hoseok’s mind wanders, a book, maybe—a neutral, safe bet. Or a plant? Or some gym gear, though he winces, thinking that might feel too impersonal. The book is safer, he decides, less likely to disappoint.
His friends won’t let him slip out of their gathering this year; the annual Christmas dinner. They’ve grown wise to his excuses, having humored them too many times before. This time, they said, he simply has to come, or they’d drag his sorry ass out of his apartment themselves. So he’d agreed, and before he could stop himself, he’d added a lie—a plus one. A date. Why he’d said it, he didn’t know. A flare of bravado, maybe, or a strange wish that he could bring someone to light the way through the season he loathes. But he hasn’t had anyone in years, and now the promise lingers uncomfortably, as cold as the snow itself.
Just as his thoughts are tangling around the dreaded dinner and the impossible gift, something catches his eye. Through the haze of snow, a flickering glow lights up the street. LEDs twinkle on a small shop sign, casting warm light onto the swirling cold. The words, “Books & Coffee,” curl across the sign in whimsical letters. Through the frosted windows, he catches a glimpse of cozy warmth inside—painted winter scenes, shelves filled with books, and the faint haze of steam rising from mugs. A chance, he thinks. A book for Namjoon, maybe, and a cup of coffee to thaw his mood.
With a shake of his head, he steps toward the shop, hoping the warmth within might push back, if only for a moment, the frost of memory that clings to him so stubbornly.
He pushes the door open, expecting the cramped and dim interior of a hole-in-the-wall shop. But as he steps inside, he pauses, surprised. The space stretches wide and tall, a quiet maze of towering bookshelves reaching toward the ceiling like trees in a literary forest. The air is thick with the scent of aged paper and fresh coffee, as warm and comforting as a blanket against the cold. Each shelf brims with books of every size, color, and genre, neat little labels dividing worlds of romance, mystery, fantasy, and more. And there, at the back of the store, his eyes catch on something unexpected—a grand coffee station, part of the cashier’s desk, decked out with bottles of liquor that glint invitingly beneath the dim lights. He frowns, amused, wondering just what sort of bookstore he’s stumbled into. 
Around him, people sink into overstuffed couches and mismatched armchairs, nestled beside little tables piled high with books and steaming mugs. Some read in hushed solitude, while others murmur in low voices, their laughter rippling like warmth in the cozy air. He laughs to himself, an ironic chuckle at the scene—it’s like he’s wandered into a romantic comedy set. Christmas decorations hang from every possible ledge, string lights wound like ivy around the shelves, falling snow draping down from the ceiling, like something straight out of The Great Hall in Hogwarts. It’s kitschy, as if the store itself is leaning into the absurdity of holiday cheer, its charm so overdone it loops back into endearing. He can’t help but picture it: a flower stand in one corner, and his “perfectly quirky holiday shop” bingo card would be complete.
Not knowing where to start, he begins wandering among the shelves, eyes skimming over the labeled sections—romance (divided by spice levels, he notes with a faint smile), “how-to” books, self-help guides, fantasy, young adult, crime thrillers. He feels lost, in more ways than one, unsure what might interest Namjoon. A philosophy book, maybe? Or poetry—something brooding and introspective, since Namjoon’s always been the type to lean into “the deep stuff.”
Just as he’s contemplating how ridiculous it is that he, of all people, has to pick out a “meaningful” gift, he glances up and spots you at the counter, your lips curved into a soft smile. Your eyes meet his, and for a split second, he feels something unexpected—a flicker, like warmth pressing through the cold. You’re watching him with a light in your eyes, a warmth that, to his surprise, disarms him, even makes him feel almost…seen. Before he can look away, you’re already walking toward him, smile unwavering, and a strange, unfamiliar shiver runs down his spine.
“Do you need any help?” you ask, your voice soft and welcoming, your gaze roaming over him in casual appraisal.
If he had a flirting bone left in his body, he might have found a response, something charming to match the spark in your eyes. He thinks you’re cute, sure, and there’s no mistaking the interest in the way you’re looking at him. But he doesn’t have it in him, not anymore. It’s been too long since he’s let himself flirt, or even felt the desire to.
“Yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. “I’m…looking for a book. For a friend. Got stuck with him in Secret Santa this year,” he shrugs, hoping that explains enough. 
You nod, listening with a gentle attentiveness that surprises him, as if every word he says matters. 
“Alright,” you reply, a bright smile lighting up your face as you clap your hands together in delight. “What kind of books does he like?” you ask, leading him further into the store with a spring in your step, your energy contagious, warming the air around you.
For a moment, he finds himself smiling back, the heaviness he carries lifting ever so slightly. Following you, he wonders if maybe, just maybe, this little shop—with all its quirks and kitschy charm—has a kind of magic after all.
A faint, almost reluctant smile tugs at his lips as he watches you move, graceful and light, as if the weight of life has never touched your shoulders. You float through the shop like someone untouched by scars, unshadowed by loss. He envies that ease, that freedom—it stirs something in him he thought he’d locked away. For a moment, he wishes he could go back to that version of himself, the one who moved through life without feeling every step like a burden. He sighs, catching himself and remembering you’d asked him a question.
“Ah—Namjoon’s into poetry,” he says, clearing his throat. “Existential stuff. The deeper, the better.”
Your smile grows, wider and brighter, and he catches sight of your slightly crooked front tooth—a small imperfection that only makes you look cuter as you bounce across the store. “I know just the thing! Follow me,” you sing, your voice lilting with a joy that contrasts starkly with his own. 
As he trails after you, he finds himself standing a little taller, rolling his shoulders back, almost as if he could let the weariness fall away. You lead him to a tall bookcase near the back of the shop, beneath a quaint little sign that reads, “Poems; a penny for your thoughts?” He raises an eyebrow at the cheesiness, but something about it is endearing, and he feels a hint of warmth sneaking in, thawing the corners of his frozen heart.
“So, this whole section is poetry. Anything specific you think he’d like, or should I recommend you something?” you ask, turning to him with eyes that feel soft and inviting, like an open door.
He hesitates. “Honestly, I’m not sure. He’s…well, his taste is kind of serious, and sometimes it’s just boring to me,” he admits, shrugging. A hint of worry lingers, hoping he hasn’t come off as rude—especially if poetry is something dear to you. But your smile doesn’t falter; if anything, it seems to soften, unfazed, still welcoming him in.
“Perfect! Then I know exactly what to recommend to you.” Your eyes light up with a spark of joy that catches him off guard, making his heart stir with an unfamiliar flutter. Reaching for a thick book, you cradle it like something cherished, a small treasure passed down. Your fingers trace the cover, vibrant and abstract, alive with colors that swirl and dance. He peers at the title, upside down but legible: Seasons Change, People Change: Thoughts on Personal Growth Inspired by Mother Nature.
You hold it out to him, gently, and begin with a quiet, thoughtful enthusiasm. “This collection is one of my favorites. Each page is filled with illustrations—paintings and sketches that bring the words to life. It’s divided into four sections, one for each season. It’s beautiful, but it’s also challenging, introspective. I keep it close for those days when I need something grounding, something to remind me to keep growing, even when it’s hard.” Your voice is soft, reverent, and the passion in your words flows freely, making his heart stumble a little, a pulse he thought had quieted.
Without a second thought, he feels himself drawn in, already captivated by your summary and the way you cradle the book like it holds some kind of quiet magic. He feels it—the warmth and lightness in your presence thawing the edges of something inside him. He thought he’d long forgotten this feeling, but as you stand there, glowing, he realizes maybe it isn’t gone after all.
“Do you want to get him this one, or should I find something else?” you ask, your eyes gleaming with a playful spark, the kind of light that could brighten even the dimmest of days.
He lets out a chuckle, low and gravelly, surprising himself. The sound feels foreign, rusty, like laughter hasn’t escaped his throat in a long time. “No,” he starts, and then realizes you’d offered him two options, so he clears his throat and clarifies, “I want this one. Thank you.”
Your smile widens, and there’s that same warmth in your eyes, shimmering with a joy he hasn’t felt in years. “Awesome,” you murmur, a quiet delight in your voice as you turn to lead him back to the counter. He follows, watching the way you move, the easy grace of your steps, the little bounce that seems so at odds with his own heavy tread. He can’t help but notice the care you put into even the smallest details—how your fingers skim over the cover as you scan the book, your voice soft as you tell him the price. He nods absently, hardly hearing you; he’s already decided this book, chosen with such thought, is worth every penny.
“Would you like it gift-wrapped?” you ask suddenly, breaking him out of his thoughts. He chuckles again, awkward this time, and you respond with a light laugh of your own, a sound that melts the air between you. “I’ll wrap it up real quick,” you say, reaching for a roll of delicate paper. “Just a sec.”
He watches, captivated by the way you work. Your hands move smoothly, almost lovingly, as you fold the paper with practiced ease. You add a final touch—a bit of decorative tape, a couple of small stickers, a tiny pocket for a note. There’s a grace in your movements, a tenderness he hadn’t expected to find in something so ordinary. It strikes him that you must do this every day, that you’ve wrapped countless books just like this one, yet you treat each with the same reverence. For a moment, he’s transfixed, caught up in a little world where every gesture, every detail matters.
“Here you go,” you say, handing him the book, now carefully wrapped and nestled in a paper bag.
“Will that be everything for you today?” you ask, smiling softly as if you can sense he’s still lingering, still caught in his own thoughts.
“Oh—actually, no!” he exclaims, a laugh slipping out, and it’s genuine, unexpected. “I’d like a coffee to go, please.”
“Of course,” you reply with a little nod, and he watches as you glide over to the coffee station, your hands moving gracefully as you work the machine, pouring a steady stream of coffee into a simple paper cup. You bring it to him with a quiet smile. “Here you go,” you say, handing him the cup, its warmth seeping through the paper and into his fingers, spreading heat into his bones.
“Thank you,” he says, reminding himself to return your smile. There’s a warmth there, an ease he hasn’t felt in a long time, and he finds himself thinking, just for a second, how pretty you look with that gentle expression, with the easy way you move through the world. If only he weren’t so closed off, so weighed down by his own wounds. You’d be the kind of person he’d love to ask out, if his heart hadn’t already been numbed by the cold.
But no—he’s too far gone for that. So he simply raises a hand in farewell, turns his back, and steps out into the biting wind. Snowflakes swirl around him, cold against his cheeks, but his coffee is warm in his hands, sending up gentle tendrils of steam that vanish into the icy air. He trudges through the snow, his footsteps muffled, his mind unexpectedly lingering on you—your warm laugh, the way your eyes glinted with life, as if joy itself lived inside you. 
Maybe he should let himself try again. Maybe he should take a chance and see what could happen, let someone in, just once more. His friends have told him enough times how much he needs that, how he should stop closing himself off. But then he remembers how content you seemed, untouched by the darkness he carries, and he can’t bear the thought of bringing his storm into your sunlight, of tainting that brightness with his own shadows. It’s better this way, he tells himself, better not to risk another heart—especially not one that shines like yours.
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The sun spills across the snow outside, making it glisten like a field of tiny pearls scattered over the earth. Inside your bookstore, the warmth of Christmas lingers in every corner, filling the air with the quiet glow of string lights, the soft hum of holiday music, and the scent of coffee mingling with cinnamon. It’s just the way you love it—cozy and inviting, a small world apart. The fragrance stirs memories of Christmases past, when warmth and wonder felt boundless. It’s nostalgic, yes, and you find yourself wanting to pass that feeling on, to wrap it up like a gift and place it into the hands of every person who steps through the door.
This is why you opened this bookstore with its coffee corner, a place where stories and comfort blend as naturally as words on a page. You’ve always been captivated by the written word, knowing full well how a single story can slip beneath your skin, change your world, and leave you breathless with a sense of wonder. A story can make you pause, whispering, wow, this was amazing, or surprise you with glimpses of yourself in its characters. Some books show you new paths; others mirror the parts of yourself you hadn’t quite understood.
This is the magic you’ve always chased—a quiet enchantment found only in books—and why you can’t help but adore recommending them. You believe in the power of words, that the right book at the right time can light up a reader’s world. And here, among the shelves you’ve lovingly arranged, you get to share that magic every day, welcoming others into a world that feels like home.
Every person who steps into your little winter wonderland is met with a genuine smile, and if they’re looking for a recommendation, you’re ready to sprinkle a bit of joy their way. Life hasn’t been simple for you, and you’ve had to fight for much of what you have now, but it’s made every small thing feel that much more precious. Every creak of the floorboards, every cover softened by countless hands, every whispered exchange about a new favorite book feels like a gift.
It’s midday on a bustling Saturday—one of the busiest days of the week—and today’s book club meets in half an hour. You glance at the clock and start setting everything up, filling the air with extra anticipation. You prepare an assortment of drinks: coffee, of course, but also tea for those who prefer it, poured into festive mugs that add a little extra cheer. You drape fluffy blankets over the cozy couches and scatter them with soft pillows, transforming your reading nook into a haven from the cold outside. Freshly baked muffins and cookies wait on the table, adding a hint of sweetness to the air.
In your hands, you hold today’s book—a thrilling, spicy fantasy where a young woman uncovers a hidden truth about herself, discovering magic and mystery with the help of a tall, dark, brooding stranger. It’s the perfect pick for this crowd, an escape into a world filled with intrigue and impossible love. Your bookstore hosts a range of book clubs, something for every taste, from cozy mysteries to heartfelt memoirs, so everyone who wanders in finds a place to belong.
As you check the time again, the chime of the door opens, and members trickle in, mostly women but with a few men scattered among them. They settle into the chairs, cradling their warm drinks and pulling out their books, eyes bright with anticipation. You begin, reading snippets aloud, leading discussions that bounce from laughter to quiet reflection as everyone shares their favorite lines, passages that moved them, questions that linger. Hours slip by in an instant, and even after the meeting ends, people linger, reluctant to let go of this cozy, book-filled oasis. Some stay to read, sipping slowly at their cups, while you return to the counter, greeting the steady stream of customers that fill your little shop. 
As you move between the bookshelves and help others find their next escape, you feel a quiet pride. This place is yours, filled with stories, laughter, and a touch of magic in every corner—a small universe where people come to feel less alone, warmed by the same words that have guided you all your life.
As you wait, relaxed, watching for anyone who might need help, your mind drifts back to a few days ago, to that stranger who walked in with the quietest of presences, searching for a gift—a book for his friend. Namjoon, that was the friend’s name. You realize now you never caught the stranger’s name. He was handsome in an understated way, but there was a heaviness about him, like a cloud clinging to his shoulders. That sadness had tugged at something inside you, urging you to offer him a touch of the holiday warmth filling your little shop. Despite his guarded nature, you saw those small cracks, those fleeting moments when he softened, letting in a glimmer of the joy you tried to share.
Now, with closing time just around the corner, your thoughts drift back to him and that lingering, frowning gaze. Just then, the bell chimes, pulling you from your thoughts, and to your surprise, in he walks, the same stranger, stepping through the door with a hint of apprehension. For a split second, he looks vulnerable, almost unsure—but as his eyes meet yours, his expression shifts, confidence replacing hesitation. His small smile is radiant, a rare glow that catches you off guard, like a sliver of sunlight breaking through a cloudy sky. It’s barely there, but it’s enough to leave you wondering what storms he’s weathered to dim his light this way.
You greet him with a soft smile of your own as he steps up to the counter, stopping just before you. 
“Hi,” he says with a steady voice. You return the greeting, about to ask if he needs help with anything, but he speaks first, voice a touch uncertain but warm.
“Remember that friend you helped me find a gift for?” he asks, scratching his head, as though he’s slightly unsure of himself. You nod, intrigued, and he clears his throat, glancing away for just a moment.
“Well,” he continues, his voice steadying, “we’re having a Christmas dinner tomorrow, and I thought... Maybe you’d like to come with me?”
You blink, taken by surprise, and a laugh escapes as you say, “I don’t even know your name,” your tone light, not saying no, but letting him know you’re curious, open to this unexpected invitation.
“Ah, right—my bad,” he says, stretching his hand toward you with a shy smile. “I’m Hoseok. And you?”
You take his hand, his warmth surprising you, and you giggle, “It’s Y/N,” you reply, your voice soft, the sound of your name feeling different in the warmth of his gaze.
“Y/N,” he repeats, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. “Pretty name,” he murmurs, and you can’t help but feel the faintest hint of flirtation woven in his words, though there’s still a nervousness in his eyes.
Then he takes a small breath and adds, “Just to clarify,” he hesitates, his voice wavering with a hint of uncertainty, “you’d be going as my girlfriend. Well, my fake girlfriend.” He chuckles nervously, almost wincing at his own words. “I mean—if you’re good with that?”
The words hang in the air between you, unexpected and just a bit surreal. Fake girlfriend? You blink, caught off guard, studying his face as he scratches the back of his neck, stammering slightly, realizing, perhaps, the absurdity of it all. “I told my friends I’d be bringing my girlfriend,” he explains, his cheeks coloring, “but, well… I don’t actually have one.”
There’s something so earnest, so endearingly awkward about him that you can’t help but smile. And before you know it, you hear yourself saying, “Yeah, sure. I’d love to be your fake girlfriend.” The words come easily, and even though you’ve only seen him once in your bookstore, something in his gaze feels steady, genuine. Maybe it’s a leap, but you’ve always trusted your instincts, and right now they’re telling you he’s worth it. If this brings him a little joy in the midst of whatever shadows he’s facing, you’re happy to oblige.
Hoseok looks stunned, his mouth opening slightly in disbelief, and then a broad smile lights up his face. “Thank you,” he breathes, his voice filled with relief and a soft gratitude. He tells you he’ll pick you up tomorrow, and you exchange numbers and addresses, the simple gestures somehow feeling significant.
As he heads out into the frosty night, his figure disappearing into the snow-dusted street, you’re left smiling to yourself, the weight of the unexpected encounter settling over you. You lock up the bookstore, half-wondering at the mystery of it all, but feeling strangely certain this is exactly the kind of magic the season brings—unexpected, a little reckless, and wrapped in the glow of winter lights.
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You clasp your hands together, fingers intertwining tightly, nerves fluttering in your chest as you wait for Hoseok to pick you up. You agreed to join him at his friends’ Christmas dinner as his pretend girlfriend, but now, in the quiet of your apartment, doubt creeps in. You’ve only met him twice in your bookstore, barely know him beyond fleeting glances and brief exchanges. The thought of walking into a room full of strangers prickles at your confidence. But you remind yourself that it’s just like meeting new faces at the shop. Slowly, your shoulders loosen, and your breathing steadies.
Glancing at your wristwatch, you see it’s nearly time. You grab your keys, lock the door, and head down the stairs, feeling the soft knit of the Christmas sweater dress Hoseok insisted you wear, an odd sense of comfort in its silly design. Apparently, you’re “matching his ugly sweater,” as he’d said with a laugh. Wrapped in your winter coat and boots, you step into the night, the cold air crisp and bracing as delicate snowflakes drift through the air, illuminated by the warm amber glow of the streetlamps.
Headlights sweep up the road, and Hoseok’s car slows to a stop in front of you. He’s waiting, the dim light from the dashboard casting a soft glow across his face. You open the door, sliding into the passenger seat, where warmth radiates from the heater and a familiar cinnamon scent lingers in the air. Hoseok greets you with a quiet smile, though his eyes hold a hint of his own nerves.
“Hi, Y/N,” he says softly, watching you as you fasten your seatbelt. He shifts into gear, guiding the car down the snowy road. His fingers clench the steering wheel, and after a moment, he glances your way. “So…you remember our backstory from last night?”
You nod, giving him a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I remember the texts,” you say, warmth lacing your voice. “We’re childhood friends from kindergarten who recently reconnected when you moved back into town.” 
He hums approvingly, tapping his fingers lightly on the wheel as he stops at a red light. “Perfect. My friends are probably going to ask a million questions—I hope you’re ready for that.”
You shrug with a playful confidence, grinning as you glance over at him. “I think I can handle it.”
The two of you share a small, knowing smile, though the absurdity of the situation isn’t lost on you. Here you are, headed toward a stranger’s holiday dinner, to pretend to be his girlfriend. You don’t gain anything from this beyond the joy of helping someone out, but still…there’s a little thrill in the adventure.
The city lights gradually fade as he drives out toward the quieter suburbs, snow dusting the dark roads until he finally turns into the driveway of a quaint little house, string lights twinkling around the doorframe like stars. Hoseok cuts the engine, the two of you sitting in the hushed stillness for a moment, watching as the snowflakes swirl gently outside the windshield.
“We’re here,” Hoseok murmurs, and you catch his smile, warm as the headlights reflecting off the falling snow. “This is actually my friend Namjoon’s place,” he says, reaching for a carefully wrapped gift on the seat. Watching him, you suddenly wonder aloud, “Should I have brought something, too?”
He waves his hands between you, shaking his head. “Nah, don’t worry—you didn’t draw a name for Secret Santa, so you’re all set.”
Relieved, you step out into the brisk night, following him along the snow-dusted path. As you approach the door, he reaches for your hand, his grip both grounding and electrifying as he gives a gentle pull, guiding you to the doorstep. You bite your lip nervously, a bundle of nerves and excitement building, when the door swings open. Standing there, smiling with dimples that carve deep into his cheeks, is a man who strikes an oddly familiar chord.
“Hi, Hobi,” he greets, his voice rich and welcoming, before glancing at you with a knowing twinkle. “And this must be your girlfriend?”
Hoseok’s hand presses lightly against the small of your back. “Yes, this is Y/N,” he introduces you with a soft squeeze that sends a rush of warmth through you.
You follow them inside, feeling the sudden coziness of the house—a subtle warmth, holiday lights casting a glow over walls adorned with paintings and art pieces. When you step into the dining room, you stop, eyes widening at the grand bookcase stretching along the wall. It reminds you of your own bookstore, and you can’t help the delighted laugh that escapes you.
You’re greeted by Hoseok’s friends, easy smiles and lighthearted jokes melting away your nerves. There’s a surprising ease to slipping into this role, to letting Hoseok’s arm find its way around your shoulder, his touch landing at the small of your back, drawing you in for a gentle hug every so often. His casual touches feel natural, and you find yourself leaning into him as if you’ve known each other for far longer than two brief meetings.
As the evening unfolds, though, you notice something. While you’re chatting and laughing with his friends, Hoseok seems quieter, reserved, watching more than talking, an unexpected contrast to the warm person who’s held you close all evening.
Soon, everyone settles at the table, and you find yourself between Hoseok and Namjoon, whose familiarity still niggles at your mind. Drinks are poured, laughter fills the air, and a delicious meal is shared. The room falls into a comfortable quiet as everyone eats, voices softened as plates empty and contentment settles in.
“So, how did you meet our Hobi?” a tattooed guy—Jungkook, you think—asks with a curious smile.
You recount the story Hoseok gave you, weaving it with a smile. Jungkook nods, seemingly convinced, and around the table, friends accept your tale with knowing grins—except for Namjoon. You catch the soft scoff he tries to hide, though the others brush it off. When you finally turn fully to face him, catching his eyes, recognition strikes.
Of course—he’s a regular at your bookstore. You’ve seen him countless times, tucked into a corner with a book in hand, quietly immersed, though he’s never spoken to you and always leaves without buying anything. You wonder if he remembers you too, if he feels the same familiar spark, or if it’s just you, standing in the company of strangers who somehow feel just a bit like home.
A pang of doubt twists in your chest. If Namjoon has indeed pieced together that you’re not Hoseok’s real girlfriend, then the secret you’re helping carry feels a little heavier. You remember Hoseok mentioning their long history, and you wonder how well Namjoon can see through this little charade. But as dinner goes on, he stays silent, leaving you in an unsettling limbo of half-glances and unsaid words.
The night drifts on, and laughter fills the room as everyone exchanges Secret Santa gifts. You can’t help but smile as each friend unwraps their present, the spark of surprise and joy lighting up each face. When it’s Namjoon’s turn, he opens Hoseok’s gift—a book—and he pauses, his gaze slipping to you in a flash of recognition. You avert your eyes, warmth creeping into your cheeks, uncertain of what he sees or thinks.
When the last of the presents has been exchanged, Hoseok turns to you, a small, wrapped package in his hands. “For you,” he murmurs, his smile soft, almost bashful. Surprised, you unwrap it, revealing a tiny sun plushie with a wide, beaming grin. Its warmth brings an involuntary smile to your lips, and you clutch it close. “Thank you, dear,” you say, leaning in to plant a light kiss on his cheek. Hoseok’s friends exchange giggles and knowing looks, and Hoseok whispers softly to you, “It’s for being my partner in crime tonight.”
As the evening winds down, you join in clearing the table. Hoseok has drifted to the couch, his figure outlined by the window, eyes distant and fixed on the winter night. A weight lingers in his expression, a deep-seated sadness that seems miles away from the warmth of the room. You’re about to go to him, to ask if he’s alright, when you feel a strong hand at your wrist, guiding you into the hallway.
It’s Namjoon. His presence is grounded and steady, like an oak tree catching you in the autumn wind. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see both questions and answers swirling there, like he’s holding onto a truth he’s not sure he’s ready to speak.
“So, should I be thanking you for the book?” Namjoon chuckles, his smile gentle yet curious, as though he’s only half-convinced of your innocence in the matter.
“Not really,” you reply, grinning as you deflect his gaze with a little shrug. “I just helped him choose because he’s hopeless with books—unless they’re comics.” You laugh, hoping your nonchalance hides the truth beneath the surface.
He laughs, nodding. “Yeah, sounds like him. Comics are about as close as he gets to literature.” His eyes flicker with warmth as he continues, “So, what’s your kind of book? What authors and genres do you get lost in?”
Before you know it, the two of you are deep in conversation, voices lowered in the hallway like you’re sharing secrets. Time becomes a vague notion, and the room around you seems to fade, leaving only the vibrant world of books—their characters, settings, and journeys—alive between you. Talking about stories, you feel a rare lightness, as if Namjoon is the first person in ages who shares the same deep love for them.
“You should drop by the bookstore sometime,” you say with a smile that feels wider, warmer. “We have a book club, too. It’s not as fancy as this,” you laugh, glancing toward the festive room, “but it’s a cozy crowd.”
Namjoon hesitates, then rubs the back of his neck, a flicker of shyness breaking through his cool exterior. “I might just take you up on that.” He pauses, as if summoning courage. “Actually… could I get your number? There’s that book you mentioned earlier—I’d love to hear more about it sometime, but…” He glances at the room filling with laughter and goodbyes. “Looks like this night’s wrapping up.”
For a brief second, you wonder at the request, but something in his gaze, earnest and unguarded, assures you. With a soft smile, you hand him your phone, and as you exchange numbers, a quiet sense of possibility lingers in the space between you.
He must know, right? That you’re only pretending to be Hoseok’s girlfriend? 
And yet, Namjoon has said nothing, given no sign that he’s in on the secret. With a fleeting glance over your shoulder, you find Hoseok across the room, engaged in conversation with Seokjin. You drift over and settle next to him, and he instinctively wraps an arm around you, his fingers lacing with yours in a way that feels almost natural, if not a bit intoxicating. It’s easy to lean into his warmth, to fall into step with this rhythm of borrowed closeness, though your heart betrays you with a quiet flutter. Hoseok is both charming and soft-spoken—the kind of person you might fall for. But as he laughs and smiles, you sense a faint veil behind his joy, as if he’s holding something back, a quiet sadness simmering beneath his surface.
Your curiosity pulls you closer, like you’re skimming a page of a novel you’re not yet allowed to read, catching only glimpses of the sorrow he hides. You wonder what story lies beneath his charming front but stop yourself; after all, tonight you’re nothing more than strangers playing at love.
Later, as he drives you home through streets blanketed in snow, a mellow Christmas tune hums softly from the radio. He’s quieter now, eyes focused on the road, his features thoughtful, even solemn under the glow of passing streetlights. You wonder what’s shifted within him, what’s brought on this sudden retreat. You want to reach out, to ask if something’s wrong, but the words linger on your tongue, uncertain. Instead, you fall silent as the car slows, then stops outside your building. A strange reluctance holds you there, as if the air itself has thickened, laced with words neither of you are quite willing to say.
After a pause, Hoseok turns to you, clearing his throat, his hand resting on your thigh—a gesture that’s both tender and strangely formal. His voice is low, soft as he murmurs, “Thank you for being my fake girlfriend tonight. You… really made it feel real.”
He says it softly, his voice carrying a hint of sadness that catches you off guard, a weight that settles around your heart like mist on a winter night. His words linger, unspoken emotions woven into the silence that stretches between you, and you find yourself wondering—what happens now, with this fragile connection suspended in the cold, quiet air?
“It was nothing. Really—you’re welcome,” you say, a gentle reply you hope sounds reassuring, though it feels distant, safer. Perhaps the middle of the night isn’t the time to unearth things better left unsaid. Yet the thought crosses your mind: will you see him after this? Wasn’t this just a single act, a temporary arrangement?
“Will I… see you again?” you hear yourself ask, your voice soft, almost hesitant, as if it too fears rejection.
Hoseok’s hand retreats, and he glances down, a subtle sadness clouding his eyes. “I… I don’t think so.” His words feel heavier than they should, an unexpected blow that leaves you feeling emptier than you thought possible. You hardly know him, yet there’s something unspoken etched across his face—something hurt, guarded, and you ache to reach out, to tell him that whatever he’s holding back, he doesn’t have to carry alone. But he’s closed himself off, walls too high for a stranger’s comfort to reach.
You sigh, swallowing the pang of regret, clenching your hands to steady yourself. “Oh… okay,” you say, masking the ache with a soft, hollow smile. Your fingers twitch, wanting to bridge the gap between you, to offer some small comfort—but his posture tells you he isn’t ready to accept it. He looks away, his expression distant, already far ahead on a road you’re not part of, his face cast in shadow.
With a deep breath, you open the car door and step out, lingering just a moment longer before whispering a soft “Goodbye.” He barely meets your gaze as you close the door, and before you know it, his car is fading into the darkness, leaving you alone on the sidewalk, wrapped in silence and the unsettling ache of missed chances.
You stare after him, shivering under the streetlights, wondering if you should’ve pressed, if you should’ve dared to ask what weighed him down. But the night stretches on, and you’re left there with only your thoughts and the haunting feeling that you missed something rare and beautiful that might never return.
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Hoseok feels hollow, a sinking weight that hasn’t lifted since he saw that crestfallen look on your face when he left you at your door. He’s not blind; he knows he messed up. But there’s something about this season, the way it reaches into his chest and pulls him under, leaving him fighting against a tide that he’s been trying to ignore for years. And now Christmas Eve is almost here—an anniversary of grief he hates most of all—and the closer it gets, the more his mood tangles, turning dark and unmanageable.
Why does he always ruin things? You were so sweet, so bright, your hand fitting perfectly into his like it was meant to be there. It’s been so long since he’s felt even a spark of warmth like that. Having you beside him at the dinner helped, too, lifted the weight for just a moment. But now, he’s gone and left you with nothing but silence. He knows he’s worried you, knows he’s made you question yourself. And yet, his heart twists at the thought of texting back, at unearthing the reason for his darkness.
The worst part is he’s seen every message you’ve sent, each one left unanswered, and with every passing day, they’ve dwindled until now… there’s nothing. He can’t blame you for giving up—he’d have done the same. And still, something in him aches at the absence, at knowing he’s pushed you away when he’s wanted to tell you the truth. Wanted to let you in. But the truth feels as vast and heavy as the winter sky, and he doesn’t know how to share it. He doesn’t know if he ever could.
His friends have noticed, too, hounding him with questions that scrape against his guilt, asking him how he kept you hidden for so long. Namjoon even laughed and asked how he’d managed to keep such a “childhood friend” so secret all these years. Hoseok’s stomach tightens with the weight of his lie, the flimsy story unraveling before him like a thin thread he can’t control.
He scrubs a hand through his hair, frustration thick in his throat. How could he possibly tell you what’s really going on when he knows it would change how you see him? How could he bare himself to you, darkness and all, without fearing he’d lose the brief light you’ve brought into his life? The thought circles in his mind, relentless, as he wonders if he’s ever been brave enough for the truth—or if, this time, he’s finally lost the chance.
The doorbell cuts through the heavy silence of Hoseok’s apartment, and when he swings open the door, there stands Namjoon—tall and composed, bundled in a long coat, a beanie tugged low, thick glasses catching the faint winter light. He’s holding a houseplant, its green vibrant against the muted backdrop of the street.
“Mind if I come in?” Namjoon asks, but before Hoseok can even respond, his friend steps over the threshold like he’s been here a hundred times. Hoseok stands, caught off guard, words barely forming in his throat.
“Uh, sure,” he finally stammers, wondering what could have brought Namjoon here at this hour, unannounced and unreadable.
Namjoon places the plant—small, resilient-looking—onto the dining table, then slips off his coat and drapes it over the chair, pulling it out with a quiet determination. Hoseok follows and sits across from him, still dazed, feeling like he’s been summoned to some private tribunal.
Namjoon clears his throat, fixing Hoseok with a steady, discerning gaze. “You and Y/N,” he begins, words deliberate, “have you told her why you can’t stand Christmas?”
Hoseok’s breath catches; his throat tightens. He forces himself to shake his head. “No, I haven’t,” he manages, the words heavy.
Namjoon leans forward, his posture stern yet somehow protective. “So you’re not serious about her?” he presses, voice low but insistent, as though each syllable is meant to peel back the layers of Hoseok’s tangled emotions.
“No...I mean—” Hoseok hesitates, feeling the urge to confess he’s cut things off, ended this entire charade before it grew more complicated. But Namjoon speaks again, his voice shifting, a rare gentleness threading through.
“I stopped by her bookstore,” he says, and Hoseok holds his breath, tension prickling beneath his skin as he waits, unsure of where this is heading.
Namjoon’s eyes soften, and a small, genuine smile flickers across his face. “She’s really sweet, you know. Bright. Kind. I think she’s exactly what you need—if only it were real.”
The words pierce through Hoseok, his heart stumbling. He feels his pulse race, the subtle grip of panic and dread mixing with something that feels painfully like hope. He knew this moment would come, knew someone would finally see past the lie, and yet there’s relief in the admission. He can’t hide, doesn’t want to.
“So...you figured out it’s fake,” he mutters, defeated, bracing himself for whatever comes next.
Namjoon nods, arms crossed, his expression shifting to something sterner, more disappointed than Hoseok could have anticipated. “What I don’t understand,” he says, voice firm but low, “is why you’d hurt her feelings like this.”
Hoseok flinches, each word like a heavy stone sinking into his chest. Hurt you? The idea stings, unearthing a guilt he hadn’t let himself feel fully until now. He’d thought this arrangement would protect him, keep everyone at a safe distance. But hearing it said aloud—that he’s hurt you—tightens the knot in his chest, makes him realize just how much he’s let his own grief pull him down, dragging someone else along with him.
He searches Namjoon’s face, but his friend’s gaze doesn’t waver, holding him accountable with a simple, unrelenting question. And for the first time in a long time, Hoseok wonders if maybe, just maybe, he’s been too afraid to let himself feel something real again.
Hoseok’s gaze meets his friend’s, a trace of confusion flickering there, but then, with a pang, he remembers the look on your face when you’d asked if you’d see each other again. He can still see it—how your expression fell at his answer, the sadness that slipped across your features.
Namjoon leans forward, his tone gentler but resolute. “You know... I think she actually cares about you,” he says, stretching his arms out and shaking his head in amused disbelief. “I don’t know how you manage to pull that off while acting like the Grinch himself,” he scoffs, “but somehow, this girl’s worried about you. You really should go talk to her, at least apologize for being a complete ass.”
Hoseok feels his chest tighten, leaving him mute, almost stunned. He knows Namjoon is right; he knows it all too well. But saying what he feels, peeling back that scarred armor—especially around Christmas—is something he’s almost incapable of doing.
“I don’t know if I can, Joon…,” he murmurs, the words coming out more fragile than he intended. “I just think telling her everything will only make her sad,” he says, his gaze dropping to the table, his hands clasped tight as though they could somehow keep his emotions contained.
Namjoon doesn’t let him off that easily. “And what do you think she is now?” he retorts softly, but with enough weight that the words feel like they land with an impact. Hoseok’s eyes widen, struck by the truth that he’d been dodging all along.
He’d thought, maybe, you’d be angry at him—mad, frustrated, but surely you’d move on quickly, brushing him off as just another mistake. After all, you were nothing more than strangers bound by a silly pretense. But hearing Namjoon say it so plainly, he realizes just how deeply he’s been fooling himself. And underneath the weight of his resentment for this season and the pain tied to that distant, bitter December night, he can’t deny the truth—he finds you kind, thoughtful, even hopeful in ways that he barely remembers feeling himself. 
If things were different—if his grief hadn’t swallowed him whole, if he could loosen the grasp of the past—he could almost imagine himself with someone like you. But here he is, still tethered to that haunting memory, letting Christmas slip by year after year in the shadow of that loss. 
Namjoon watches him in silence for a moment, then speaks, his voice quieter but unyielding. “Hoseok, we’ve all tried to tell you. The past can’t be a place to live, no matter how much it calls you back.” 
And Hoseok feels the truth of it—a weight and a choice lingering like the chill of winter air, urging him, perhaps for the first time, to break free.
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It’s nearly Christmas Eve, and you’re setting up for the last book club gathering before the holidays—a special, spicy session in the fading afternoon light, centered around a tale of witches, dragons, and the tangle of morals. While you lay out the books, aligning them carefully on the tables, your mind drifts to Hoseok, stirring with thoughts you can’t quite suppress. Namjoon’s words echo in your memory, nudging you to give his friend a chance. But the emptiness of your unanswered texts lingers; despite the messages you’d sent with tentative care, Hoseok has remained silent. A part of you aches to reach out just once more, yet the other half insists on self-respect—if he doesn’t want the comfort you offered, the space to unburden himself, you tell yourself that’s fine. Still, beneath that quiet resolve, a sliver of frustration seethes, and it slips into your work, reflected in the books you place down a bit too roughly, each one landing with a defiant thud.
Tonight’s book club promises to be a lively one, with more attendees than ever before. You’ve even roped in a few friends to help rearrange the store, setting up extra couches and stools to welcome the crowd, and handling the front counter while you join the readers. Despite everything, the prospect of the gathering fills you with a kind of joy that’s untouched by disappointment. Here, surrounded by stories and souls eager to explore them, you feel anchored, reminded of the warmth and kinship that words can forge even on the coldest nights.
Everything is ready, and as people start trickling in, the space soon brims with warmth and laughter. Every seat is filled, and latecomers, wrapped in thick blankets, settle on the floor, adding to the cozy, intimate atmosphere. Soft candlelight dances across the room, casting a gentle glow over festive mugs brimming with coffee and tea, and you smile, savoring the joy that settles over your little bookstore. You begin speaking about the new indie author whose book you’re exploring tonight, diving into themes of morality, which quickly spark a spirited debate among the readers. 
But then your phone vibrates, faintly insistent in your pocket. At first, you ignore it, but when it continues, you excuse yourself with a sheepish smile and slip away to the counter. A string of messages from Namjoon lights up your screen.
[19:23] Namjoon: Hi 😀   [19:23] Namjoon: Sorry to bother you again, but   [19:24] Namjoon: TY for letting me visit your bookstore 📚   [19:24] You: You’re welcome anytime! 😊   [19:24] Namjoon: and finding that book for me   [19:24] You: np at all 😀   [19:25] Namjoon: I know that your relationship with Hobi is fake, but I really wanted to say that I think you’ll be good for him ☀️   [19:25] You: Really? 🥹   [19:25] Namjoon: I hope you’ll want to get to know him. He’s a really great guy 👍   [19:25] You: I do! Yeah. I had a feeling there’s a nice guy under all that sadness 🥹   [19:26] Namjoon: Ahh, yeah. He actually used to be the happiest and brightest person, but…   [19:26] Namjoon: Ahh, sorry 🙇   [19:26] Namjoon: It’s not my place to tell you.   [19:26] Namjoon: You should talk to him 🙂   [19:26] You: DW! I didn’t want to pry. I’ll ask him himself 🥰   [19:27] You: TY for looking out for him. You’re a good friend 🫂   [19:27] Namjoon: Always. He’s one of my oldest friends and I just want to see him happy again 🥹   [19:27] You: I’ll try talking to him. I hope he finally responds 🙏   [19:29] Namjoon: Please do, otherwise I’ll kick his ass!
You smile at Namjoon’s last message, the warmth of his words lingering as you slip your phone back into your pocket. But a tangle of thoughts and emotions stirs within you. Namjoon seems genuinely hopeful for you and Hoseok, nudging you toward him with a gentle insistence that Hoseok might just need someone to reach out. You’d promised to try, but doubt lingers at the edges—what if it’s all in your head, an illusion woven by the quiet moments you shared and the loneliness he wore like a mask?  
Yet, the image of Hoseok as the “brightest person,” as Namjoon described, sits heavy in your mind. What could have dimmed that light? And as you glance out at the book club gathering, a part of you wonders if, somehow, there’s still a chance to bring a bit of that warmth back to him.
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Hoseok finds himself aching for your smile, the warmth you seemed to pour out effortlessly, and the sharp, clever humor that softened his edges in ways he didn’t expect. Namjoon’s words echo in his mind, words that have been unraveling him slowly, urging him toward the chance to make things right. With his hands tucked into his coat pockets, his feet carry him almost unconsciously toward your bookstore. He knows you’re working tonight, but he doesn’t care about timing or convenience; he only knows he needs to see you, to finally apologize and hope you’ll give him even a moment of your time. He’s prepared to accept whatever you’re willing to offer—even if it’s a closed door.
As he steps inside, the familiar warmth and scent of cinnamon and worn paper embrace him, comforting and bittersweet. You glance up from the counter, and the softness of your smile catches him off guard; relief flickers in his chest—you haven’t yet written him off. He makes his way over to you, offering a tentative, apologetic smile.
“Hi, Y/N,” he says, noticing the subtle spark in your eyes, something between surprise and hope. “I came to order a coffee…and give you a proper apology,” he adds, his voice warm, almost pleading.
You let out a small chuckle, the sound light but genuine, and turn to make his coffee. “Is this one to go?” you ask, an amused smile tugging at your lips.
“No,” he replies, a hint of a grin breaking through his seriousness. “Actually, I was hoping for one of those festive mugs, and maybe to borrow a book and stay for a while—if that’s okay.”
A warmth lights up your eyes, and he feels his heart lift, his nerves unraveling just a little. “I think that’s a great idea,” you say, and reach for a whimsical reindeer mug, the kind with a scarf winding into the handle, speckled with snowflakes. You fill it with steaming coffee, setting it before him with a soft, inviting smile.
Hoseok’s gaze drops to the mug as he gathers his thoughts, then he looks up, meeting your eyes as he speaks. “I owe you an apology,” he begins, his voice low and earnest. “For everything. I know there’s no excuse, but Christmas has always been…well, it’s not exactly my season,” he trails off, catching himself rambling, and gives a nervous chuckle. “But I didn’t mean to take that out on you. I just wanted to say I’m sorry, truly, and I’ll try to be better.”
The smile you give him is small but warm, like a flicker of forgiveness, and for the first time in a long while, he feels a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, he can start letting go of his past.
You hand him the reindeer mug, warm and brimming with rich coffee, smiling as you pass it to him. “I’m glad to hear it, Hoseok. You were acting like an ass there for a bit,” you say with a playful glint in your eyes, “but that’s in the past now—you’ve apologized.” Gently, you slide the mug across the counter toward him. “Here’s your coffee. Pick out whatever book catches your eye,” you add softly, your voice warm.
He nods, pausing for a moment as he clears his throat. “Actually,” he begins, a bit hesitant, “that poetry book you recommended for Namjoon…do you have another copy?”
“I do,” you say with a quick smile, nodding toward the poetry section. “It’s right over there.”
“Thanks,” he murmurs, wrapping his hands around the mug and savoring its warmth. “Figured I could use a little introspective magic.” With that, he takes a long sip, the comfort of the mug slowly thawing his cold fingers.
He makes his way to the poetry shelves, pulls down the book, and settles into one of the plush armchairs in the corner. For a long time, he reads quietly, the pages offering him solace in ways he hadn’t expected. While his usual reads lean more toward comics, he feels something settle inside him as he lets himself sink into the rhythmic flow of the verses. Every so often, he looks up to see you moving gracefully through the shop, helping customers, laughing softly with a warmth that feels magnetic. He realizes, almost with a pang, that this warmth is something he used to feel too, before the shadows crept in. Maybe that’s part of the draw he feels toward you—you radiate the kind of light he’s been missing.
From the corner of his eye, he notices you glancing over at him, and when he catches your gaze, a soft blush creeps up your cheeks. You offer a shy smile, and he returns it with a gentle wave, feeling lighter than he has in a long time.
He doesn’t know how long he’s been there, nestled into that armchair, his coffee long finished and now sipping tea. Hours seem to slip by, but he doesn’t mind. As he flips through the poems, he’s surprised by how deeply they resonate with him. Some verses are quiet and sad, others comforting, and some seem to reach into the bruised places he’d long tried to ignore. He closes the book, his heart feeling just a little less heavy, and places it back on the shelf.
Finally, he walks to the counter, holding the empty mug in his hands. A grateful smile lingers on his lips as he approaches you, words forming in his mind like the first sparks of something new.
“It’s getting late, so I should head home,” he says softly, a smile spreading across his face. “Thank you for the coffee and…the poetry. Your store feels like a warm hug, honestly—cozy and comforting.”
You smile, touched by his words. “That’s exactly the atmosphere I was hoping for,” you reply, taking the mug from his hands and placing it on the tray to be cleaned later. 
He lingers, shifting slightly, his eyes dancing around the room as he gathers the courage for what he wants to say next. “I, uh…” he clears his throat, glancing up at you, “I’d like to come back sometime soon. Maybe we could actually hang out?” His voice wavers just a little, and you catch the flicker of nerves in his expression.
A playful grin tugs at your lips as you raise an eyebrow. “Are you asking me out on a date?” you tease, letting a hint of mischief dance in your gaze.
A blush creeps into his cheeks, but he nods, smiling shyly. “Yeah, actually… I’d like to take you out. Not here in your store. How about a movie or something?” he mumbles, trying to hide his hopefulness.
“A movie sounds nice,” you say softly, warmth blooming in your own chest.
“How about the day after tomorrow?” he asks, his eyes brightening with relief and anticipation.
You nod, giving him a gentle smile. “Sure.”
His blush deepens, and his grin widens as he waves goodbye, stepping out into the night air. As he heads home, he feels lighter, like a weight has lifted, the warmth of your smile lingering with him, warming him even as the winter wind swirls around.
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Hoseok insisted on watching one of those cheerful Christmas movies, the kind that swells with improbable reunions and holiday cheer, even though you’d told him he didn’t have to—any genre would’ve been fine. But he’d insisted, almost stubbornly, saying that it’s what he wanted. Yet, even as the lights dim and you settle in, you can feel the irony of it: this bright, glittering warmth on screen, and something distant in his gaze that it doesn’t quite reach. 
You’ve got a tub of buttery popcorn between you and sodas on the floor by your feet, but your attention isn’t really on the movie. Something about a girl rediscovering her family…you’ve seen it before, enough times to know every twist and turn by heart. Instead, you focus on the space between you, the openness of your hand resting on the armrest, waiting for him to close the gap. When he does, intertwining his fingers with yours, a soft thrill of warmth lights up your chest. 
He hums contentedly, gently squeezing your fingers, and after a while, his head leans softly against your shoulder, his breathing falling into a slow, steady rhythm. When you glance down, you realize he’s drifted off, and a small smile tugs at your lips. He must be exhausted, though you don’t even know what he does for work, what fills his days with the kind of weight that would make him fall asleep so quickly.
You let him rest, his warmth comforting against your shoulder, and time slips away until the credits roll and the lights blink back on. As he stirs, blinking sleepily and straightening up, a hint of embarrassment flickers across his face, but you brush it off with a reassuring smile, finding that you liked the feeling of him resting against you.
“Want to come back to my bookstore?” you ask as you both step out into the cold night, snowflakes swirling gently around you. Your fingers find his again, as natural as breathing. “We could have a drink. It’s closed for the holidays, so it’d be just the two of us,” you add with a smile, looking up at him.
He yawns, nodding. “I’d really like that.”
You walk together through the snow-dusted streets, laughter mingling with your steps, until you reach the bookstore, keys jingling in your hands as you unlock the door. Inside, the quiet space welcomes you both, the ceiling lit with floating snowflakes casting a soft glow over the shelves and cozy reading nooks. You both shrug off your coats, and you lead him into the back of the store, where the barista machine hums quietly in the corner.
“How about hot cocoa?” you ask, glancing over your shoulder. “It’s a little late for coffee.”
He nods, a soft smile touching his lips as he settles into one of the armchairs. You start grinding cocoa beans, the rich aroma filling the air, and set two festive mugs beneath the machine, watching as it pours thick, velvety cocoa. The air is warm, and somehow you feel more at home in this quiet moment than you have all season, the world outside reduced to the gentle hush of falling snow.
With the cocoa steaming in your hands, you settle into one of the oversized, cloud-soft couches, and he sits across from you, mirroring your small, hesitant smile. The bookstore feels like a world away from the outside, a sanctuary where the soft hum of holiday lights flickers gently, and the scent of chocolate mingles with the faint, comforting smell of old books.
You take a slow sip, letting the warmth fill you. “So,” you ask, voice gentle but direct, “do you want to tell me why you hate Christmas so much?”
He pauses, caught off guard, nearly choking on his own cocoa, and you watch his face flush, caught somewhere between embarrassment and hesitation. Realizing you’ve gone right to the heart of it, you quickly add, “You don’t have to, of course. I’m just…curious. But it’s okay if you’re not ready.”
For a moment, he seems to shrink inward, his face turning soft with a sadness that feels ancient, like a weight he’s carried for too long. He takes a breath that’s almost a shudder, expanding his chest as if even breathing through it hurts.
“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” he says finally, his voice so low it’s barely a whisper. “It’s that I’m scared you’ll look at me differently, that I’ll just…bring you down.” His words are vulnerable, stripped bare, trembling with the unspoken.
Reaching out a little, you reassure him, “I won’t. I promise. But really, there’s no pressure. You only have to share what feels right.”
He nods, but there’s something in his gaze that shifts—like he’s waging a silent battle, torn between hiding and the need to unburden himself. He fidgets with his fingers, then places his mug carefully on the table, as though any movement could shatter the quiet around you.
“It’s just…” He hesitates, casting his gaze downward, then continues, “I want to tell you, because…well, only my closest friends know. And I think you deserve to know too, since I’ve been such an ass to you…” he trails off with a nervous laugh, tinged with sadness.
Taking a deep breath, he begins. “It happened when I was seventeen,” he says, voice low and brittle. You set your own mug down, instinctively leaning forward, drawn to the rawness of his words.
“It was Christmas Eve,” he says softly, staring past you, somewhere into the painful fog of memory. “There was a storm—snow swirling thick, icy roads. And…” He pauses, his voice trembling, his words hitching, thick with emotion.
Instinctively, you move over to sit beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as he struggles for composure, his breath shaky. Leaning into your touch, he swallows hard, gathering the words from somewhere deep, each one a fragile release.
“My parents and my sister…” he chokes out, his voice shattering into tears, and you draw him closer, feeling him tremble against you. One of his hands finds yours, his grip tight, holding onto you as though he fears the memory might pull him under.
“They died,” he whispers, and the words break free like a dam bursting. His shoulders shake as the full force of his grief surfaces, raw and unrestrained. He buries his face in his hands, and you gently place a hand on his back, offering the quiet comfort of your presence as he unburdens himself.
He leans into you, surrendering to the weight of years of sorrow. “And it’s all my fault,” he sobs, the words barely discernible through his heaving breaths.
Softly, you murmur, “How do you figure that?” Your voice is low, gentle, as though you’re trying to hold him steady with your words.
“Because…” He trails off, swallowing hard. “I asked them to go out that day. The star on the tree was broken, and I’d wanted everything to be perfect, so they went out just to get a new one. And they never came back.”
His confession lingers in the air, heavy, each word carving deeper into the silence. You pull him close, holding him as he cries, his sobs echoing softly through the quiet bookstore. 
You pull him closer, letting your warmth envelop him like a soft blanket, as if you could shield him from the pain he’s held onto for so long. “But it wasn’t your fault,” you whisper, gently, your words like a balm, “How could it be? They were adults, Hoseok. If they hadn’t wanted to go, they wouldn’t have. You didn’t force them, didn’t ask for a storm. It’s horrible and tragic, yes, and I’m so sorry you’ve had to carry this, but…it’s not your fault.”
A sob breaks from him, raw and filled with years of bottled sorrow. “But it is,” he cries, his voice catching, “If I hadn’t been so insistent about that damn star, if I hadn’t wanted everything to be fucking perfect…”
Tenderly, you tighten your embrace, gently rubbing his back. “But you can’t know that, Hoseok. No one could know.” Your words are soft but sure, reassuring, each one carrying a warmth you hope he can feel. “Sometimes…things just happen, things we can’t control.”
“It’s been over a decade,” he says, his voice a fragile echo. “But every Christmas—every snowstorm, every time I see the lights, I’m right back there. All I see is them, and I hate it.” His voice trembles with anger, grief, and resentment. “I hate the snow, I hate the holidays. That storm, those roads…it’s all ruined for me.” He breaks again, the words torn from him, and you hold him through his tears, letting him release everything he’s held in, feeling each tremor as he cries.
For a while, you just stay there, giving him the space to let the sorrow pour out, letting him lean into you fully. You say nothing, just hold him, until the sobs subside to quiet sniffles. His voice barely a whisper, he murmurs, “I just want them to come back…” and the raw ache in his words tugs at your heart.
Your chest tightens with empathy, the pain he’s carried so vividly there before you. The weight of it all is almost unbearable, and now you see why he’s buried his light under layers of grief for so long. But there’s something else there, too—a longing to break free, if he only knew how.
Finally, you find the words, speaking softly. “Look, Hoseok…I can’t even imagine what you’ve gone through. And it’s unfair, all of it. But you’ve carried this for so long, like a stone around your neck, dragging you down. It’s part of you, yes, but maybe…maybe it doesn’t have to define every part of you forever. What if you could let a little of it go?”
He’s quiet, thinking, eyes still glistening. “I don’t think I can,” he says softly, looking at you as though searching for permission to forgive himself. “Maybe I don’t deserve to be happy…”
You reach for his hand, guiding his gaze to meet yours. “Hoseok,” you say, voice steady but warm, “we all deserve to be happy. We’ve all faced loss and scars that linger, but we don’t have to carry them like this. I’m not saying you need to forget, but…maybe you can let the pain be something else now, something softer, something that blooms instead of weighs you down.”
He looks at you, brow furrowed, as though he’s trying to understand. “Like turning it into something beautiful?” he asks, his voice so low, so vulnerable.
“Yes,” you nod, a small smile breaking through. “Like tending to it, like planting seeds where the pain was, and seeing what beautiful things might grow. Hold onto that pain, but let it bloom into something beautiful rather than letting it scar. Nurture it like a garden, tend to it with care, so that the memories don’t define you, but become parts of you that you can cherish, like petals of a rose you keep alive. New memories, maybe. Or something to honor what you loved about them.”
He looks up, eyes glistening with tears, and yet you can’t help but think he looks so heartbreakingly beautiful like this—vulnerable, raw, his heart laid bare.
He stares into the distance, thinking, his fingers still laced with yours. For the first time, you catch a glimmer of hope in his eyes, fragile but alive. The weight is still there, but something else is there now, too—a softness, a beginning.
“Namjoon told me you used to be like the sun itself, and I think it’s time to let your light shine again. I can see glimpses of that warmth, those pieces of who you were. You deserve happiness, Hoseok. Don’t you think?” Your hand gently cradles his cheek, thumb brushing softly against his skin.
His breath shudders, voice rough and tremulous. “I… I’m not sure.”
You squeeze his hands, a comforting weight. “I’m not saying it will happen overnight. But you deserve the world, and maybe…maybe it’s time to let yourself imagine that.” You search his face, noticing the exhaustion in the redness of his eyes, the weariness clinging to him like a shadow. He’s been carrying his world alone, and it’s wearing him down, thread by thread.
“Listen,” you whisper, “we don’t have to talk about it anymore tonight. You look so tired. How about this—I’ll find some blankets, and we can sleep on the couch, together?” Your arms hold him close, an offer of sanctuary, one he so clearly needs.
He nods, and you rise to gather the blankets, arranging them softly around him before settling beside him. You help him lie down, his head resting on your lap as your fingers drift tenderly through his soft brown hair, tracing gentle circles. Your fingertips graze the shell of his ear, and you feel a delicate shiver ripple through him. Slowly, his breathing steadies, the tension in his face unwinding as you touch his cheek softly. His eyes flutter shut, though a few quiet tears slip free, trailing down the bridge of his nose to rest, shimmering, on your thigh.
“I’m so sorry you lost them,” you murmur, voice almost a breath against the quiet. “I’m so, so sorry. But I’m sure your parents and sister would want to see you smile again, to see you living freely.”
He hums faintly, a soft sound that melts into the stillness, leaning unconsciously into the warmth of your hand. With a tender impulse, you lean down, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek, your lips meeting his skin like a promise. “You’re a beautiful sunflower, Hobi,” you whisper, the words a soft caress.
A small, fragile smile tugs at the corner of his lips, his breaths deepening as he drifts, his body finally surrendering to sleep. Your heart aches for this gentle soul, and yet you feel strength in the quiet resolve settling over you. Though you’ve barely begun to know him, you feel an undeniable pull—to protect, to nurture, to help him find his way back to the light. You want to see him reclaim the happiness he’s buried, for you feel, deep down, that he deserves it more than anyone.
As you press your hand softly against his shoulder, you settle beside him, closing your own eyes, and together, under the soft weight of blankets, you both drift into the quiet peace of sleep.
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His chest feels strangely lighter, as if the weight he’s carried so long has finally loosened its hold. The scent of old paper mingles with a trace of last night’s cocoa, stirring softly around him, and he opens his eyes to find two forgotten mugs, their contents now cold, sitting on the table. Morning light streams through the bookstore’s large windows, casting delicate beams across the room, where tiny particles of dust dance and swirl like winter snowflakes caught in a golden glow.
And then it hits him—he’s in your bookstore. He fell asleep here, his heart laid bare, resting in your gentle embrace. Last night, he poured out his grief, his regrets, his guilt, and you’d held him in the quiet safety of your lap, soothing him with words that linger in the air, as soft as the dawn light now filtering in. He feels a warmth settle in his chest, something lighter and more hopeful taking root, gently nudging the darkness aside.
He turns, catching sight of you still asleep beside him, your lashes fluttering against your cheek in the gentlest rhythm, like the delicate wings of a butterfly resting between flights. You look so serene, so quietly beautiful, and in this moment, he feels his heart expand, filled with a quiet gratitude and a strange, new kind of peace. He isn’t fully healed—not yet—but he feels the faintest beginnings of something brighter, a light beginning to shift within him.
You were right, he realizes. He doesn’t have to carry his grief alone, doesn’t have to let it take root so deeply. His friends had tried to tell him before, but somehow, he’d resisted. With you, though, it felt different. Maybe it’s the way you looked past the jagged edges of his sorrow and saw the flicker of light he thought he’d lost. Maybe it’s the way you listened, without pity, without judgment, your compassion flowing freely, like a balm to his worn-out soul. He feels a rush of quiet reverence—for your kindness, for the safe harbor you offered, for the hope you unknowingly planted in him. And he knows, somehow, he’ll carry this moment with him forever.
You stir softly beneath him, your body stretching as you wake. Your eyes meet his, soft and warm, and in that gentle gaze he feels understood in a way he hadn’t thought possible. You smile, a tender smile that feels like the start of something new.
“I loved our talk yesterday,” you murmur, voice laced with warmth and care. “How are you feeling?”
He hums softly, the morning light catching the hint of a smile on his lips, “I feel… lighter, actually.”
“That’s good. I’m so glad,” you whisper, fingers tracing gently along his cheek, your touch soft and warm. A shiver rolls through him, and he feels goosebumps rise, like your kindness has left its own quiet mark on his skin.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, voice tender and full. “Thank you for listening, for everything… truly.”
You smile, brushing a strand of his hair back with a quiet laugh. “I didn’t do anything—you did that,” you say, your voice a soft tease. 
He chuckles, feeling his heart swell as he sinks a little deeper into your lap, his gaze locked on yours. “You’re good with words,” he replies, leaning into your touch, feeling a warmth he hasn’t felt in so long.
“I read a lot,” you chuckle, fingers weaving gently through his hair, each stroke grounding him more fully into this quiet moment.
He clears his throat, his eyes lifting to meet yours with an unexpected tenderness, “What are you doing tomorrow? On Christmas Eve.”
You pause, a flicker of surprise lighting your eyes before you break into a gentle smile. “Nothing, why?”
A smile spreads across his face, slow and earnest. “I’d really like it if you’d come to my place. I want to make dinner for you, to thank you. For all of this.”
Your eyes soften, glistening with a look he can’t quite decipher, something warm and unspoken that makes his heart beat a little faster. And then, leaning closer, you brush a kiss against his cheek, your lips feather-light and warm.
“I’d love to,” you whisper, and your words, simple as they are, feel like the beginning of something he hadn’t dared hope for.
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It’s Christmas Eve, and the quiet streets are bathed in the soft, amber glow of street lamps, their light dancing on the fresh blanket of snow as you wait for the bus that will carry you to Hoseok’s place. A warmth bubbles up inside you as you think back to yesterday—when you finally glimpsed the beautiful light that has always flickered behind his eyes. That warmth wrapped around you, like a blanket on a cold winter night, and filled your heart with a joy you can’t quite put into words. 
Seated now in the gentle hum of the bus, you press your forehead against the cool glass of the window, watching the world blur past in a whirl of twinkling lights and shadows. Your mind keeps drifting back to Hoseok, that ray of sunshine who’s somehow already become a quiet storm in your chest. You’ve never felt like this for anyone—never this quickly, never this intensely. You know you like him deeply, but there’s so much more to discover. This dinner, you think, could be the start of that journey. 
As the soft strains of Christmas music fill your ears, you imagine what his home might look like—wondering if it would feel as warm and comforting as his presence. The bus slows, and you press the stop button when you realize the next stop is just a heartbeat away from Hoseok’s apartment. The doors open, and you step out into the crisp, dark afternoon, your breath puffing out in delicate clouds as you trudge through the snow, boots crunching with each step toward his building. Finally, you find it. You shake the snow off your boots before making your way up the stairs, your heart fluttering as you ascend to the right floor. You reach his door and knock gently, anticipation coursing through your veins. It’s only moments before the door swings open, and you’re met with an embrace of warmth—both from the cozy glow spilling out from inside and from the inviting scent of something delicious drifting in the air.
Hoseok stands before you, wearing a red Christmas apron, with a pocket embroidered with Santa and snowflakes at the edges. The sight catches you off guard, and you can’t help but smile, your heart swelling in your chest. “Wow,” you begin, taken by surprise, but he grins back, the same joyful light in his eyes. “—Handsome, right?” he finishes your thought with a laugh, and you join in, smiling even brighter. “Yeah,” you laugh, nodding, “That’s exactly what I was going to say.” You slip off your coat and shoes, feeling the warmth of his home wrap around you like a soft embrace.
You look down at your dress, a silky golden thing that rests just above your knees, with the barest hint of your collarbone exposed. Beneath the apron, you catch the outline of his dress shirt, festively adorned with Christmas prints, and the way his dress pants fit him perfectly. Without thinking, you reach out, gently grasping his bicep, surprised by how solid and strong it feels beneath your touch. You open your mouth to speak, to tell him something—anything—but for a moment, the words slip away, leaving you with only the quiet flutter of your heartbeat.
“I used to go all out at Christmas,” Hoseok says, his voice soft, catching your gaze as he notices you watching him. “When my family was still alice… it was kinda our tradition. And,” he pauses, the weight of the memories hanging between you both, “I thought maybe I should replace those dark memories with new ones. Water the flowers, like you suggested.” 
The sincerity in his voice pulls at your heart, and you feel a warmth spread inside you. He really took your rambling words to heart, didn’t he? It’s almost too much, the way he’s reaching for healing, for light. You blink quickly, trying to stop the tears from spilling over—because God, if he keeps this up, you’re not sure how much longer you can hold it together. 
He smiles softly at you, a smile that carries both gratitude and something more, before gently guiding you into his home with a hand resting at the small of your back. “Come in,” he murmurs, as if he’s sharing more than just his space, as if he’s offering you a piece of himself. 
You step inside, and the atmosphere is instantly warm, comforting—like stepping into a dream where all the colors and memories belong exactly where they are. His personal items are scattered thoughtfully around the room, each object, each piece of art, telling a story of the man himself. The walls are adorned with splashes of color, vibrant yet intimate, as if the house breathes with the same life that hums in his veins. It’s the kind of home that makes you smile involuntarily, grounded and cozy, much like him. 
You follow him into the kitchen, small but inviting, its walls holding the scent of simmering food and something more—something like hope. Your stomach rumbles with anticipation as you watch him finish off the last details of the meal, every movement graceful and purposeful. It’s like watching an artist at work, and your senses are overwhelmed by the delicious aroma that fills the air.
He rolls the sleeves of his shirt up with an easy, practiced motion, revealing arms veined and strong—muscles flexing as his hand moves to stir the pan. Your mind drifts for a moment, caught between admiration and the soft, flickering thoughts that begin to dance behind your eyes. His presence feels like the warmth of the sun—comforting, yet powerful.
“Do you want wine?” he asks, his gaze meeting yours as he reaches for a heat-resistant mat to place the pan on. 
“Yeah, but just one glass,” you answer, your voice steady. You don’t want to cloud the clarity you feel in this moment—not today. Not with this quiet intimacy swirling between you two, a pull that feels magnetic, like you’re drawn in by the gravity of his kindness and the warmth of the space he’s shared with you. 
When you step into the dining room, the sight before you takes your breath away. The table is set perfectly—candles flicker gently, casting a soft glow across the room, while a delicate Christmas playlist hums in the background. The ambiance feels like something pulled from a dream, and your heart flutters as you take it all in. 
“You didn’t have to do all this,” you say, your voice quiet with awe, still unable to fully comprehend the effort he’s put into making this evening so special.
Hoseok chuckles softly, a smile curling at the corners of his lips as he drags a stool out for you to sit. “Actually,” he says, placing the food carefully on the table, his eyes warm and earnest, “I had to. It’s the least I can do.” He pours wine into your glass, his fingers brushing the stem gently, and as he looks up at you, something shifts between you both—something that feels like the beginning of a new story.
You blush and smile, warmth blooming inside you, feeling a kind of happiness that only his presence seems to create. It’s a glow that wraps around you like a soft, sunlit blanket, a feeling you know he brings to others when he’s not weighed down by his sorrow. But tonight, Hoseok is different—lighter, freer. He’s like a person emerging from the dark, letting the painful past be nothing more than distant echoes, fading into the background of his life. There’s a spark in his eyes, a lightness to his spirit that wasn’t there yesterday. You know the sadness still lingers in him, but damn, seeing him fight to reclaim joy is nothing short of beautiful.
His movements are more confident now, flowing with a grace that seems to echo his shifting mood. The pain didn’t vanish overnight, but he’s making a conscious choice to let go, to change, and that’s the most powerful thing. It feels like watching someone wake up, piece by piece, from a long and heavy slumber.
You take a sip of your wine, and the quiet hum of contentment fills the space between you. As you begin to eat, the flavors on your tongue are nothing short of heavenly, and you realize—he’s not just kind, not just tender, but he’s an incredible cook too. Your heart swells, and you glance at him, finding his smile—soft, genuine, a reflection of the warmth that’s spilling out from inside him. He’s smiling with his eyes, and it makes you feel elated, like everything in the world has aligned just perfectly. 
Then, you feel something nudge against your foot, warm and gentle, and your gaze drops to see his foot brushing against yours. You can’t help but giggle, a little burst of joy that seems to bubble up from your chest. You drink a little more, letting the wine relax your senses as you continue eating, savoring every bite until you’re almost too full to move.
“This was so delicious, Hobi,” you say, your voice soft, full of admiration, as your hand stretches across the table, finding its way to gently caress his. 
He smiles, his lips curling into a playful smirk as he meets your eyes. “Mh. Thank you,” he murmurs, the words wrapped in warmth.
“But you’re the one who deserves all the thanks and praises,” he adds, his voice thick with sincerity, his gaze never leaving yours. You blink, surprised by the depth of his words, and feel your heart stir with a tenderness you can’t quite explain.
“Me?” you laugh, a little incredulous, the sound light and playful, like you’re both caught in this beautiful moment of connection.
“Yeah,” he nods, his voice low and filled with gratitude, “if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have had the strength to face my pain, to let the old me—the me I thought was lost—come back to life.” 
His words settle in your chest, heavy with truth, and it stirs something deep inside you. 
“Instead of sitting here with you today,” he continues, his voice raw and real, “I’d probably be lying in bed, bitter, angry at the world and everyone in it. But here I am, actually enjoying Christmas. Actually enjoying life again.” 
The rawness of his honesty catches you off guard, and your heart aches with the beauty of it. A few tears well in your eyes, not from sadness, but from the overwhelming sweetness of his words. His gratitude, so pure and so deeply felt, moves you in ways you didn’t expect.
He caresses your hand back, the warmth of his touch sending a ripple of warmth through your chest. “Thank you for guiding me back towards the light,” he whispers, his voice soft yet resolute, the sincerity in it making your heart swell. 
Your eyes flutter, feeling a mixture of gratitude and happiness for him. This is the light you saw the moment you met him—the flicker of hope beneath the surface of his pain—and now, with gentle patience, he’s found his way back to it. To see him embrace it, to see him live in it again, is nothing short of breathtaking. And in that moment, you realize just how incredibly sexy that is—this strength, this vulnerability wrapped in his quiet confidence. 
Without thinking, driven by the pull of something deeper, you lean in across the table, closing the distance between you, and your lips meet his in a kiss so tender it almost feels like the world stops. 
For a fleeting second, there’s hesitation in him—surprise, perhaps—but then his hands cradle your cheeks, his fingers slipping into your hair, and he moans into the kiss, pulling you closer, deepening it. 
Your heart races, the connection between you sparking like wildfire. You think, with a flash of clarity, that it was only ever a matter of time before this moment arrived, before your lips touched in the way they were always meant to. 
When you pull apart, his brown eyes are dark, pupils blown wide with desire, as are yours, and you feel the heat between you intensify, every nerve in your body alive with the electricity of the moment. 
He leans in again, lips brushing against yours as his breath quickens, and you feel something stir within you, something deep and primal, fluttering in your chest. 
He pulls back again, and his voice is laced with desire, hushed but intense. “Do you want to see my bed? It’s nice and soft,” he asks, his gaze still smoldering.
You blush, the heat rising to your cheeks, but you can’t help but laugh—a breathy sound, teasing and full of playful mischief. “Yes, but I’m more into the harder beds.”
He raises an eyebrow, his gaze sharpening into something more dangerous, more magnetic. “You are, are you? So you like it hard?” His voice is low, a dangerous edge to it now, and it makes your breath catch in your throat. 
“Maybe,” you tease, batting your lashes as your heart begins to race. You rise from the stool, the air between you thick with unspoken promises.
“Which way to your bedroom?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper, the heat between you palpable, electric. You can already feel the pull of him, the temptation of what’s to come.
He stands up, his hand reaching out for yours, and you feel the warmth of his touch ignite something inside of you. “This way,” he murmurs, his fingers threading through yours as he leads you through the tiny hallway.
Every step feels heavier than the last, the anticipation building like a slow crescendo, your pulse quickening with every heartbeat. The air feels thick with tension, charged, like a storm ready to break. As you step into his bedroom, the world outside seems to disappear, and all that exists is him—his presence, his touch, the way he’s looking at you with that fire in his eyes.
Before you can take another breath, he pulls you into his arms, one hand sliding behind your neck, the other settling on the small of your back. His lips crash into yours, deep and smoldering, igniting the very air between you. You melt into him, your heart pounding in your chest, your body aching for the closeness, for everything that’s about to unfold.
His tongue dances with yours, a teasing, intoxicating rhythm that sends shivers through your bones, a soft, helpless moan slipping past your lips and into his. The air between you is electric, alive with a pulse that pulls you both closer until clothes become mere shadows cast aside, and your chests rise and fall in time, breaths mingling as one. He guides you down onto the bed, and you gasp, bouncing softly against the mattress, a laugh escaping you—only to dissolve as he hovers above, his gaze dark and consuming, savoring every curve, every inch as though you were his finest vintage.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice thick, reverent, as his hands trace along your body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. You shiver, the warmth of his touch awakening every inch, every nerve, until your skin hums under his fingertips. His lips descend, his breath warm against your skin as he moves lower, his gaze holding yours in a promise, a delicious anticipation that pools and aches within you.
“Can I touch you, make you come on my tongue?” he whispers, his voice low, pleased. You nod, breath hitching, and when you gasp a desperate ‘yes,’ he presses deeper, spreading you open, his lips finding your pussy, soft and warm, as a shudder rushes through you like a wave.
He doesn't hesitate, diving in, his tongue moving in slow, devastating circles that steal your breath, exploring you with the kind of hunger that unravels you. You gasp, hands tangling in his hair as he wraps his arms around your thighs, holding you steady, his own groans vibrating against your skin as his mouth moves against you, relentless, devoted. The wet sounds echo, shamelessly intimate, drawing you closer to that edge, your pulse quickening as his nose brushes your clit, a shockwave of pleasure sparking up your spine.
Your fingers knot into his hair, tugging, a fevered plea spilling from your lips as he drives you higher. A skilled flick, a press, and your hips roll forward, chasing the pleasure he's offering, breath coming fast and shallow. “Hobi,” you gasp, feeling the tidal pull of release, the wave cresting just at the brink. “I’m so close, I—”
He pulls back only briefly, his voice a husky command. “Come for me, sweetheart. Let me taste it.”
The endearment sends a dizzying rush through you, a warmth that winds tight in your core, pushing you over the edge. With a final swirl of his tongue, you fall, your muscles clenching around him as his name shatters from your lips, your body arching, pulsing with every wave that rolls through you. He doesn't let up, holding you through every tremor, his mouth and fingers steady, pulling every last bit of pleasure from you.
When your breath finally slows, he trails kisses up your body, lingering over the swell of your hips, your stomach, each touch a worship. His mouth finds the hollow of your throat, then your jaw, his face gleaming with your warmth as he murmurs, “Absolutely breathtaking.”
“That tickles,” you giggle as his lips trail across your cheek, finally capturing your mouth in a tender, lingering kiss. There’s a faint taste of yourself on him, but it’s lost in the intoxicating warmth of his presence; you’re drunk on him, submerged in the depth of his touch, his scent, the pull of his breath against yours. It’s astonishing how deeply you feel for him already—as if you've known the quiet rhythm of his soul and the dance of his heart for years, not days that turned to weeks.
“Was it good?” he murmurs, his eyes bright and searching, holding a playful tenderness that only he seems to bring out in you.
“It was incredible,” you pant, your body slowly easing down from the dizzying high, a blissful afterglow humming through every inch of you.
“Then let me give you another,” he says with a teasing glint, the promise glistening in his voice as he leans closer.
You blink, surprised, a trace of doubt slipping through your words. “Are you sure?” It’s not that you question his skill—he’s just shown you what he’s capable of—but you’ve never been able to reach that edge twice in such quick succession.
His expression softens, his eyes tracing over your face with quiet understanding. “You’ve never orgasmed twice in a row, have you?” He asks, his voice gentle, knowing. You bite your lip, nodding, your cheeks warm.
“Then lean back, relax,” he whispers, a warmth threading through his voice that feels like a promise waiting to unfold. “Let me do all the work.”
He guides you to sit up, leaning comfortably against the headboard, and settles in beside you, close enough that his heat seems to melt into your own. With a soft, lingering kiss, his lips capture yours again, while his fingers trail a path down your body, finding the sensitive peak of your breast and teasing your nipple with a gentle, rhythmic squeeze that draws a moan from deep within you. His hand moves skillfully, squeezing, massaging, until your skin tingles beneath his touch, each sensation like a spark flickering into life.
When his hand finally moves lower, tracing the curve of your thigh, you’re already quivering with anticipation. His fingers find that sensitive spot between your legs, his touch feather-light but insistent as he circles your clit, the glide slick and warm, a sensation that sends tremors through your body. A soft moan escapes your lips, melting into his as his finger slips inside you, a slow, steady rhythm building as he moves in and out, each motion drawing you closer to that simmering heat just waiting to burst.
His lips never leave yours, each kiss drawing you deeper into the haze of his touch, your body moving in sync with his, rolling against him as his hand works its magic. You’re already beginning to unravel, each touch, each whisper against your skin making you feel like you’re on the verge of combustion. Not quite over the edge yet, but right there, teetering, every nerve alive, every inch of you utterly and completely his.
“Mmmhh,” he breathes against your lips, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before pulling away to meet your gaze. His eyes lock onto yours, dark and inviting, filled with a warmth that makes your pulse quicken.
“Ah, Hobi,” you pant, your hips instinctively moving in sync with his hand, matching each subtle movement with a desperate rhythm.
“You like that, huh?” he teases, his voice soft but laced with a confidence that sends a shiver through you.
“I do,” you moan, breathy and unguarded. “You can… add another.”
He obliges, slipping a second finger beside the first, the added stretch sending a spark of pleasure rippling through you, and you can’t help the delighted mewl that escapes your lips. He moves with a steady, knowing rhythm, his fingers curling, finding just the right spots, each motion igniting something deeper, pulling you toward that familiar crest of pleasure. For the first time, you believe—maybe you could actually come again.
Your head falls back, resting against the headboard, and he seizes the moment, his mouth tracing along the exposed curve of your neck. His lips, warm and firm, press kisses to your skin, each one sending a wave of electricity through you, and as his teeth graze just beneath your ear, you giggle softly, your body instinctively clenching around his fingers.
“You’re so tight,” he whispers, his breath hot in your ear, each word brushing against your skin like velvet, sending delightful shivers coursing through you. “Think you can handle a third finger?”
Your breath hitches, a soft moan escaping as you murmur, “Maybe… Are you getting me ready for that monster cock of yours?” you tease, voice wavering with laughter and heat.
He laughs, the sound low and deep, and slides a third finger inside, his mouth brushing your ear as he murmurs, “I’ve got to make sure your sweet, tiny pussy can take me.”
The words strike something in you, a spark that seems to light you from within. Your body welcomes the stretch, feeling fuller, each movement of his fingers heightening the tension building inside you, every push and curl driving you closer to the edge. You’re lost, breathless, a soundless cry caught in your throat as his thumb grazes your clit, sending you spiraling, stars dancing in your vision as pleasure wells up from within.
“Are you close again, sweetheart?” he whispers, voice thick with desire, his fingers moving faster, his thumb circling in a way that’s both messy and perfect, igniting every nerve.
“Yes,” you gasp, the word more a breath than a sound, your hips rolling in time with his hand as he dips his head to your neck, then your cheek, each touch gentle, yet searing. He catches a stray tear of ecstasy on his lips, and then he finds your mouth, kissing you deeply, his body pressing against yours, chest against your breasts, the closeness amplifying every sensation. The world fades around you, narrowing to just the two of you, to his fingers, his lips, his warmth, everything feeling achingly right.
Before you know it, you’re tumbling over the edge, your body pulsing around his fingers as he moves within you, steady, guiding you through every wave of your release. You’re left breathless, panting, as the pleasure washes over you, his fingers still moving, coaxing every last tremor from you, until you’re spent, lost in the warmth of his embrace.
“See?” he grins, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. “I told you I could make you come again.” He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek as he slowly withdraws his fingers, leaving you feeling empty, your body still pulsing in the delicious aftershocks of his touch. He holds his slick fingers in front of you, and for a moment, you think he’ll ask you to taste yourself. But instead, he surprises you, lifting his fingers to his own mouth, his lips parting as he sucks them clean, his gaze locked onto yours. The sight sends a rush of heat through you, and your body responds instinctively, clenching at the image of his self-indulgent pleasure.
“That was… incredibly hot,” you murmur, still breathless, your hand finding his chest as you push him gently back against the headboard. He gives a soft, surprised laugh but lets you take the lead, his body relaxed, trusting. His legs part under your touch, his cock heavy and hard between them, and you feel a rush of excitement knowing he’s been waiting, building up desire, just for you.
“Oh, okay,” he breathes, his voice breaking into a pant as you lean in. You spit into your hand, wrapping it firmly around his dick, feeling the warmth of him under your palm, the slight pulse of anticipation. His eyes close, his head tilting back, a moan slipping from his lips as you begin, your hand gliding over his length, making sure every inch is slick and ready for you.
Without hesitation, you bring your mouth down to him, taking him in fully, your lips stretching around him as you ease down. He gasps, his body jerking slightly, unprepared for the sudden depth, and you stay there, breathing steadily, relaxing as you let him fill you completely. Above you, he murmurs something unintelligible, a string of curses and soft sighs that only drive you further.
You pull back, letting him slip from your lips with a soft, wet sound, the cool air hitting his skin as he opens his mouth, stunned. “Damn, Y/N, I—”
But before he can finish, you take him in again, his words dissolving into a low groan as you move, finding a rhythm, hollowing your cheeks around him as you hum, feeling him pulse with each sound. The slight salt of his precum lingers on your tongue, a taste that feels both intimate and thrilling. His hands find your head, fingers threading into your hair, and you feel him tense above you, fighting for control. But then his grip tightens, and he pushes you down gently, deeper, a raw, breathless whisper escaping him.
“Fuck,” he pants, his voice breaking as you take him all the way in again, your eyes watering slightly, the warmth of him filling you completely. He presses his palms to your cheeks, drawing you up, meeting you with a hungry kiss, his mouth capturing yours in a fervor that leaves you both breathless, your bodies pressed close as if to savor every last taste, every last touch.
“You’re incredible,” he whispers, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips, his eyes meeting yours, deep pools of desire and awe, the kind of look that sends warmth pooling low in your belly.
You giggle, shifting down the bed and tugging at his legs, playfully coaxing him to lie flat beneath you. As he settles back, you crawl over him, gazing down, feeling the heat between you like a magnetic pull. Slowly, you lean down, capturing his lips, letting the kiss deepen until it feels like you’re both tumbling into something endless.
When you pull back, your voice soft, you ask, “Are you okay with doing it raw?” His face flushes, his eyes darting to the side for a moment, vulnerable, unguarded. “If you have condoms, that’s fine too… I’m clean, and—”
He interrupts, his words stumbling. “It’s fine. I—It’s been a long time for me, but… it’s not like I haven’t… I mean, I’m not a virgin… it’s just been a while since—”
You press a finger to his lips, silencing him with a soft smile, your other hand resting on the warmth of his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat. “I don’t care,” you murmur, eyes half-lidded with desire. “I just want you. Right here, right now.”
He inhales deeply, his chest expanding under your hand before he breathes out, a quiet “Mkay.”
That’s all you need. With a slow, deliberate motion, you swing your leg over his hips, settling yourself above him, your hand finding him, guiding his dick to you. Gently, you press yourself against him, letting the head of his cock tease you, a tantalizing friction that makes his face tighten with a mixture of pleasure and impatience.
“Don’t tease,” he pants, his voice a husky whisper.
“Says the master of teasing,” you quip back with a grin, and finally, you begin to lower yourself onto him, savoring each exquisite inch as he fills you, stretching you with an overwhelming, delicious pressure. Every nerve ignites as you sink down, hands splayed on his chest, his skin hot and firm beneath your palms. His eyes stay locked on yours, dark and hungry, and as you begin to roll your hips, a soft moan escapes you—he feels so perfect.
“God, you’re so big,” you murmur, voice wavering as you ride him, your movements picking up a steady rhythm, each glide smooth and effortless, your body still sensitive and wet from the pleasure he’s already given you.
“You look so beautiful on top of me,” he breathes, his voice thick with awe as he watches you, his gaze tracing the way your body moves, the rise and fall of your breasts as you ride him. His words make your pulse race, and your body clenches around him in response, your hips picking up speed, moving faster, deeper, chasing that place inside you where everything blurs into pure sensation.
Leaning forward, you press your lips to his neck, leaving a trail of kisses, your mouth finding a spot just below his jaw where you suck softly, marking him as yours. He groans, his hands gripping your hips tighter, fingers digging into your skin, pulling you closer as if he can’t get enough, his need written in every small movement.
When your lips return to his, he kisses you fiercely, and you slow your hips, grinding against him with deep, rolling movements that leave you both breathless, the friction between you a heady, delicious ache. His hands hold you with a greed that makes your skin tingle, his grip firm and possessive, as though he’s trying to savor every second, every feeling. 
He begins to thrust up into you, his movements sudden yet electrifying, each stroke catching you off guard in the most thrilling way. A gasp escapes your lips, raw and breathless.
“Ah, fuck,” you pant against his ear, your voice a broken whisper.
“Good?” he murmurs, his tone low, teasing.
“Mhm, yes,” you moan, your voice trembling as his hands pull you down, anchoring you to him, while his hips drive up to meet yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless. Each thrust sends a delicious shock through you, his cock filling you so deeply that you feel entirely claimed, entirely his.
“Let me flip you over,” he pants, and with a strength that feels effortless, he shifts you onto your back without ever leaving your body. Your legs wrap instinctively around him, locking him in place as he plunges deeper, each thrust building a rhythm that’s quick, relentless. Your hands fall back, palms open beside your head as he holds you there, his hips moving in an unyielding rhythm that sends you spiraling, your vision blurring with pleasure.
Above you, he’s sweating, his chest heaving as he breathes out, “Think you can come again?”
“I don’t know,” you whisper, voice barely a breath, each word trembling with the anticipation building low in your belly.
“Let’s find out,” he replies, his voice thick with determination. He leans down, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak as he sucks, sending a fresh wave of heat through you. His thrusts remain deep, unyielding, each movement pressing against your most sensitive spot, and you feel yourself unraveling, piece by piece, as his scent surrounds you, grounding you in him.
He moves to the other nipple, and as his lips close around it, your hands find his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands, pulling him closer, feeling the delicious pull of another climax gathering, stronger, more overwhelming.
“I think… I think I’m gonna come again,” you gasp, every nerve alive with the approaching edge, feeling yourself build higher and higher, almost unbearably.
He hums against your breast, the vibration rippling through you, and when his teeth graze your sensitive skin, your body seizes, your pussy clenching around him—hard, locking him deep as your vision whites out in a blinding rush of sensation. The world blurs to nothing, a soft ringing filling your ears as your chest heaves. You dimly register his eyes on you, his gaze intense, enthralled, as you let go completely, surrendering to the pleasure.
The orgasm rolls through you in waves, endless, consuming, as he continues to thrust, drawing every last bit of sensation from you. It feels like it will never stop, his body perfectly attuned to yours, his movements relentless, and you’re left breathless, utterly taken by him, lost in the exquisite pull of his touch.
“Oh my—fuck,” he rasps, his voice catching as he stills, releasing himself into you with a shuddering breath. His chest heaves, spent and utterly captivated, and as he catches his breath, he murmurs, “Shit, I didn’t ask if I could come inside you.”
You tilt your head, feeling a tired, blissful warmth spread through you. “It’s okay,” you reply, your voice soft and slurred, still drifting in the hazy warmth of pleasure. Despite your exhaustion, your body continues to pulse around him, a lingering hold, like it’s reluctant to let him go.
He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that vibrates through both of you. “You’re still squeezing me,” he says, giving a few gentle, lingering thrusts to help you both ride out the aftershocks, savoring every last sensation.
“This… has never happened before,” you murmur, a soft giggle escaping as the warmth fades and your body begins to relax. Finally, the last traces of tension melt away, leaving you both drowsy and satisfied.
“I hope it was good for you,” he says, letting his weight rest against you, his chest pressed to yours as his breathing steadies.
You smile, running your fingers through his hair. “It was incredible,” you whisper, a tenderness in your voice that makes him chuckle softly. He nestles his face against your collarbone, eyes closed, sinking fully into the afterglow.
“I’m glad,” he murmurs, his voice a low, warm rumble against your skin. “It was incredible for me too.” For a moment, the two of you lie there, basking in the quiet peace between breaths, in the warmth of skin on skin. He shifts slightly, resting his head on your chest, and you feel his arms wrap tighter around you.
“I could lie here forever,” he breathes, his voice soft and content.
You giggle, brushing a thumb over his shoulder. “Sounds nice, but you’re just a little bit heavy,” you tease, your voice trailing off with a sleepy laugh. “But… Can I stay? I’m so tired, and I really don’t want to go outside in the cold snow.”
He draws you closer, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple, his lips brushing over your skin. “I don’t want you to leave, either. Stay. Sleep. And in the morning… I’ll make sure to fuck you real good all over again.” He tilts your chin up, sealing his promise with a warm, lingering kiss that leaves you feeling lightheaded, even now.
“That,” you sigh, smiling as you close your eyes, “sounds perfect.”
Slowly, he slips out of you, and though you feel the absence, he’s back almost immediately with a warm cloth. His hands are gentle, his touch soft as he lifts your legs to clean you with careful attention, leaving a trail of warmth where he touches. You hum, your body responding to his tenderness, and he smiles, brushing a kiss to your knee as he finishes.
“Do you want to sleep in a shirt?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he watches you start to drift off.
You shake your head, smiling sleepily. “No, I’m too tired to move… just come and spoon me,” you murmur, your voice already fading as you feel yourself slipping into sleep.
“Naked?” he teases, eyebrows raised with a hint of mischief.
You smirk, stretching out your words, “Yeah… unless that makes you uncomfortable?”
“Not in the least,” he replies, flashing a cheeky grin before slipping into bed beside you. He slides in behind you, pulling the covers up over both of you as if sealing you in a cocoon of warmth and comfort. His body, warm and steady against yours, is like an anchor, and within moments, the world fades away, and you’re sound asleep, cradled in his embrace.
Morning comes gently, with the soft tickle of Hoseok’s breath grazing your neck, sending a delicious shiver down your spine as you begin to stir. You shift slightly, and he wakes, nuzzling close to you, his lips pressing a sleepy kiss to your shoulder.
“Good morning,” he murmurs, voice rich and low.
You chuckle, turning your head slightly to face him. “Good morning… and Merry Christmas.”
He yawns, then his face lights up with a lazy, warm smile. “Merry Christmas,” he says, voice filled with a happiness that feels both new and deeply familiar, like something cherished but long forgotten. The two of you laugh softly, as if sharing a secret, wrapped in the fullness of each other.
You wonder if he’s ever spent Christmas with anyone since his family passed, but something tells you not to ask—not when everything feels so gentle and good. His hand drifts down your body, his fingers finding the curve of your hip, settling on you possessively, and giving you a playful squeeze.
“Can you turn around?” he whispers, a subtle seriousness beneath his tone. “I want to ask you something.”
You shift to face him, and it’s like the morning light itself is gazing back at you—he’s radiant, his smile warm and glowing, spilling over with something tender and unspoken. For a heartbeat, you’re breathless, marveling at how a man could look this luminous, this achingly beautiful, as though he’s sunlight made flesh.
“What do you want to ask me?” you murmur, your own voice soft, a smile tugging at your lips as you reach to gently brush a strand of hair from his forehead.
He takes a slow, deep breath, his gaze twinkling with a mix of happiness and something bolder. “Would you… be my not fake girlfriend?” he asks, eyes dancing with playful mischief, though you can tell he’s holding his breath.
You can’t help but laugh, fingers threading through his hair. “So… you mean, a regular girlfriend?” you tease, tapping your chin and pretending to ponder it, though your heart already knows the answer.
He nods, grinning but waiting, his eyes fixed on yours, full of hope.
Without another word, you lean in, your lips finding his in a kiss that’s both deep and tender, lingering as if to say all the things words can’t quite hold. When you finally pull back, his eyes are wide, gaze soft as though he’s still catching his breath.
“Yes,” you whisper, a smile lighting up your face, “I want to be your not fake girlfriend.”
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→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle @pjmxxjm @ajoonniice @kookiewithluv
→ requested taglist: @nora12379 @back2bluesidex @joonsmagicshop @hobi-love @bangtan-tee-86 @itsmina29 @vintageroses10 @hoseoksluna @knjjjk @ktownshizzle @angellekookie @miksancheese
→ Author’s endnote: so… how are we feeling after riding this emotional rollercoaster of all the feels™? Are we okay? Did it wreck you just a little? Or were you like, “meh, this sucks”? Be honest—I can take it (I think) 😅 I may or may not have poured way too much of myself into Hobi, and then used OC as a therapy session to bandage my own emotional wounds 😂 Why do I do this? Every. Single. Time. But hey, at least we’re all healing together, right? 💜 Anyway, I really, really hope you enjoyed this one. Tell me all your thoughts, feelings, and maybe even your favorite moment—it means the world to me! 🫂
© @/kingofbodyrolls 2024 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story 🥰
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hoseoksluna · 3 months ago
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LIFE | jhs
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pairing: military!hobi x f. reader (ft. namjoon)
genre: slow burn ; tension ; converse high trope / smut, tiny fluff
word count: 8.6k
summary: hoseok has always had a secret thing for you and once he learns you're single, he doesn't waste time and knocks on your door. 
pinterest board: life / playlist: listen / taglist: join / discord: join
warnings: mutual pining, hobi is a feet guy, mentions of a partner giving you a cold shoulder and silent treatment, strong tension, praise kink, petting, nipple play, oral sex (f. receiving), overstimulation, slight dd/lg, raw and rough sex, size kink.
note: SHE'S BACK. HOSEOKSLUNA IS BACCKKKKKKKK. HELLO, MY BABIES. I MISSED YOU ALLLLL SOOOO MUCH AND I MISSED WRITING SO MUCH THAT THIS IS SOMETHING I WROTE IN MY YEARNING TOWARDS THE END OF MY HIATUS. fuck, this is way too hot. and i, again, had to take breaks to do something :D actually, i was inspired to write this at 4 am when i landed in my country after my vacation in dubai and got the weverse notification from hobi. :) yep. he ruined me, destroyed me, and i had to start writing. ENJOY THIS FILTHHHHHH. i missed writing abt dd/lg, too.... hehe. let me know what you think. and if you mayhappsss want part two? I LOVE YOU, MY BABIES. MWAH.
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Hoseok, at your doorstep bringing in the moonlight before the midnight hour, was not something you quite expected to see when you heard the bell ring. You were lounging around on your couch, clothed in your new silky pajamas that you bought to heal your wounded heart a little, along with a peachy Korean face mask, a banana vape and a vanilla candle that you lit up as soon as you exited the shower. The creamy white sheet is what you were still wearing on the planes on your face when you stood there, taken aback because the man, clad in his military uniform, was certainly not your friend that visited you often. 
Hoseok was a mutual friend. A friend of your best friend Karina… and a friend of your now ex-boyfriend Namjoon. A friend that hated your guts—a friend that could not stand you. 
A friend that would let his eyes linger a little while longer on you upon seeing you on regular night outs and then ignore you for the rest of the event. A friend that would lock his gaze on your intertwined hand with Namjoon’s before narrowing it and scoffing in a private way that you invariably saw through. 
You weren’t stupid. You knew what his deal was—it’s only that you couldn’t do anything about it. You were Namjoon’s for eight wonderful months that were splotchy with the depth of poetry. Words from his heart that would give your life meaning, keep your head up above the surface. You needed those words as you spent your whole girlhood drowning in the sea of FOMO, rowing your arms through the waves of life that never got you anywhere. Seeing the little beauty of day and night of Seoul with your friends paled in comparison with what Namjoon showed you. You always believed that your life would begin with a man by your side—you prayed for it, you waited for it and it became reality. 
But it was not the reality that your body sought in the long run. 
Yes, the sex was great. Significant to your mental development, especially to your female one as you truly did become a woman in his hands, letting the lush girlish version of you die in his palms. As well as the museums, the hikes, the dinner dates that let you in on the complexity of Namjoon’s intellect that you found so profound and full of beauty. 
But as you nearly reached a year with him, your body began to seek more. The flowers beyond the box of your relationship with him—and you knew that those petals carried the scent of Hoseok. 
He liked you. You saw it in the extremity of his purposeful ignorance towards you, in the forced hatefulness he put across, and in the distance he set as a boundary. You saw it, too, in the way he would entertain other women in the bars and glance at you every now and then to make sure you’re seeing what he wants you to see. And it excited you, his interest in you that he kept at bay. 
It was a forbidden fruit that you smelt and smelt, but could never bite into—and it drove you insane. And when he got enlisted in the military, it drove you off a cliff. 
Missing him made you search for him. Not in Namjoon, but in other men. Privately, in your soul. And it cost you your relationship. 
Namjoon was a jealous, possessive man. He would fight with you if you looked at a guy for a beat longer than is necessary and if a half of a smile crept up upon the corner of your lips, he would give you the cold shoulder. An action that cut through you deep enough to make you bleed and you had to put a stop to it. 
You thought talking to him about it like an adult would straighten the road you were walking upon, but like the intelligent man Namjoon is—he knew that what he was giving to you was no longer what you needed. He threw it back at you, using the poetry of his words, and all you could do was be honest with him. Nod your head, tell him he was right, that you were seeking something more. And what surprised you was that Namjoon wasn’t willing to go the extra mile. 
He didn’t consider it. Didn’t mention it. 
He nodded his head, too. And you parted your ways as friends who loved each other and lived an artistic life together. 
And at that moment, a door to your mind opened and Hoseok stepped in. Made a bed, fluffed the pillows, and rested. 
It seems now he has awoken. Rang your doorbell, bashed his fist against the wood and narrowed his eyes at you in his normal fashion. 
An action that weaves a rhythm into that flat, bruised heart of yours. 
His military jacket is slung over his arm. His two black dog tags, hung by a silver chain around his long neck, rattles as the breath of the fresh, autumn evening breezes past, scattering goosebumps along your chocolate-buttered skin. You notice, within the brief silence while you look at each other and exchange words long overdue, that his hair is way shorter. Not buzzed anymore like Namjoon showed you on Hoseok’s first day in the military six months ago, but tousled and sticking out in different directions as if he raked his fingers through the strands a million times over. Your own itch, wrapped around your vape, his beauty heightened by his evident newly-gained manliness washing over you like an icy stream of water. 
You shiver, blaming it internally on the wind, and not on the lightness of the attraction that you feel sinking beneath your skin, overpowering you. 
And that small movement of your body propels Hoseok to speak, at last. 
“I come home to find you single,” he scoffs, his voice deep and raspy, marked possibly by his job in the military. And you feel it marking you just the same, opening windows in the house of your body for that wind to blow in and exhilarate you, help you breathe. “He’s drunk out of his mind, crawling on Jungkook’s lap and you’re here. In your pajamas with a fucking face mask on.” 
Briefly, you furrow your brows, not understanding the meaning of his words. Is he bashing you for not crying your heart out? Or is he bashing his brother for doing whatever it was. Your heart turns halfway, painfully. Those days are gone—those you spent in bed while that broken muscle wept while your body used that time to repose from all the stress it went through, being in an environment it grew out of. 
You sigh, weary of the recollection of that peculiar pain, and show no sight of the turbulence happening within you. “Jungkook must be happy about that.” 
Hoseok chuckles, humorlessly. A chilling noise that erects your bare nipples beneath your pajama button down. Awkwardness slinks down your sternum and you shift your weight on your other foot as Hoseok deepens his gaze down on you. 
Tension settles between you and you use it. You use it, wholeheartedly, as you should have all those months ago. The only thing you ever took advantage of were the touches Namjoon graced your skin with. You’d grab his hand, while Hoseok watched, and bring it underneath the table. Part your mouth, pretending he was touching a sensitive, private place while he was merely drifting his fingers along your thigh. Hoseok would gulp, but he would keep his gaze locked on yours, very much like he’s doing now. It’s the only form of intimate interaction you ever had, save for the heated debates about different things you two did not have in common. 
All else remained hidden in the silence shared between you. 
And it no longer shall. 
If he came all the way here, unannounced, then you shall let fate, one that is enamored with your body, have her way in your life. 
“If you came here to talk about him, then I’m not interested,” you say, letting go of the door and slipping off your face mask, ignoring the hurtful pinpricks along the perimeters of your heart. “If you came here for me, then the door is open.” 
And with that bravery, you pivot on your heel and walk back into the living room, not expecting him to follow you and not expecting him to walk away. You let fate do her thing, and you begin to tap in the essence of the peachy face mask into your skin with quick, gentle slaps. 
You toss the sheet, along with the packaging, into the trash, your hair clipped away from your face whooshing around you with your movement. Kicking off your slides, you hear them bump into something stable, and when you turn around to seek that strange sound, you see Hoseok standing by your armchair near your couch. 
So he did come here for you. You tremble in a different manner, filled with sparks of excitement, and, turning around to sit on the couch, you flush, smiling happily to yourself. 
But all those feelings turn to dust when Hobi kneels by the edge of your couch and fixes your home slippers. Aligns them rightly in front of you so you can comfortably slide your feet into them once you get up. 
Your stomach drops and your fingertips tingle, all of your nerve endings set on blazing fire by that one act of service. 
The first kind thing he’s ever done for you. 
He throws his military jacket over the backrest of the armchair, where he nestles himself. Legs spread, elbows propped on his knees. His long dog tag chain swings back and forth in the sudden, atypical calmness of the atmosphere that you cannot adapt to fully. Not when your mind creates an image of that chain hanging over your face, your neck and your chest when you’re bare and ready for him, laying on your back, all for him to take. 
You bite your lip, tracing the band of your sleep sock with your fingers, and Hoseok’s eyes fall to it. You quickly lift them, sheepish. Distract your mind by opening a package of eye patches and placing them on your dark circles that just won’t leave. His gaze skims over each motion, studying it, wordlessly, and you can’t take it anymore. 
You can’t be the only one who’s brave this evening. 
You take a puff of your vape, inhaling its sweetness, and stare right back at him. A smile, a foolish girlish smile quivers upon your lips. One that you dislike because you did grow out of it, but it seems as though the more you swallow the intensity of his shadowed, violent sea-charged energy, the more you transform back into that little girl you were. 
And the process soaks your panties. 
So much is said in the silence, always has been, but you can’t stand it anymore. 
“You should start talking before I go to bed,” you bite, willing your smile to flatten, and Hoseok kneads his hands. His knuckles bear a faint memory of yellow bruises, veiny and strong as they are, and for a moment you wonder how far his ferocity reaches. 
He showed you little of it. You know he’s capable of doing things that would change you for all eternity, give you a new form that would not wither with age. 
And you yearn for it. Have yearned for it all those months without knowing that was the thing your body sought. The thing Namjoon could never give you. 
Violence. Roughness. The licks of an outraged sea. 
You’re a witness to it sloshing in the pools of his darkened eyes as he chews the provocation you uttered his way. And you can bet he likes the taste. 
“Did he break your heart?” he asks amidst the banana-flavored smoke, his knuckles whitening for a split second as he clenches his fist before relaxing—as if the thought of Namjoon breaking your heart angers him. 
It rouses you, and the way your chest lifts with each breath stimulates your stiffened nipples. The candlelight sways, casting shadows on his worn features, and you’d much rather sit on them than talk about your ex. 
“Did you not hear what I said?” you spit, throwing your vape on the cushion of your couch. Hoseok’s façade splits as he smirks, dropping his gaze for a moment before lifting it back to you. 
He leans back, slouching in the chair. “Answer the question.” 
The sedatedness of his tone stuns you. Your heart begins to thump as well as the bundle of nerves between your folded legs. It has been too long since you had your release. Months upon months. And you’re too weak to not get carried away by these new feelings you’ve shamefully forgotten about. 
The veins from his knuckles travel all the way back to his arms and your brain empties out. Too, too fucking long. You should’ve fooled around with every guy you found attractive, use them for orgasms, make the best of your womanly years, but instead you dwelled at home—in and out of your misery. And now, now it feels as though you’re a virgin, alone for the first time with an older man that enlivens your body. 
And you might as well give him what he asks of you. 
Sucking on your vape for a puff of bravery, you don’t blink as you stare at him through the smoke. You elongate your legs, placing them on the coffee table next to him, your toes facing his outstretched knee, and his eyes, once again, plummet to them. 
“He didn’t break my heart, I broke his,” you say, your words shrouded by that white mist curling out of your mouth, and you watch as his eyes widen en route to yours. 
He didn’t expect that. 
Something about that satisfies you. Selfishly. 
Hoseok runs the pad of his finger across his bottom lip, his head tilted to the side a little bit. “It was about time you did.” 
The searing heat that rushes forward in your cheeks forces your gaze away from him, begs you to look away, but you don’t. A bead of perspiration trickles down your cleavage, one that is visible to him as you couldn’t be bothered to do all the buttons after your shower. But Hoseok’s eyes don’t flick to it. No, he can’t miss this. He can’t miss the gravity of the moment, of the spoken confirmation of the fact that what went on between the two of you for so long is real. You squeeze your thighs together, the thumping in between unbearable, and the longer you bask in his brave words, in the masculinity of his initiative, the more your own poetry begins to rise in you.
If it drags, it’s not meant for you. If it’s fast, it couldn’t wait to meet you. 
And Hoseok notices. It is only when you let out a little, barely hearable sigh that his eyes do travel down to scrutinize your bodily reaction. To your nipples poking through, the shine of your sweat in between your bare breasts, to the friction you’re rubbing—the miniscule grinding movements that you make in order to alleviate yourself of the ache of desperation that you feel. And because you’re baring yourself out for him, he does the unthinkable. 
He lets you see his true face, his façade collapsing at his big, sock-clad feet. 
Hoseok lifts his hips, hides behind the pretense that he’s just making himself more comfortable, but in reality he did it to turn your attention to his lower region. His length, semi-hard yet still long, stands out, protruding from the camo of his pants and you’re hot, hot all over. 
The thumping worsens—and you need him, all of him, to make it better. 
Perceiving that he’s succeeded in his strategy by the way you just won’t stop ogling him, he blushes and hides it, in vain, with outstretched fingers spread across his face. As if he was doing his signature idol move. It’s a riveting sight to behold, a seemingly cold person growing warm from you gaping at that private part of him. 
And you want more. You want to see more places of his body that are flushed. And you want it now. 
“It was about time you and I talked alone, don’t you think?” you ask, following on from his previous statement. All that pining, those stolen glances, that distance—all that tension advances forward now, stronger than ever.
Hoseok can feel it, too. At your words, his manhood grows harder and his breathing quickens. He tries to stabilize it, but he fails. He fails even when he returns to his original position with his elbows propped on his knees. That chain of his swings with more momentum, teasing you, and you place your legs even closer towards him, and upon witnessing the light flash in his eyes, you realize that you teased him right back. 
The man likes feet.
You draw in a sharp breath when he fists both of your feet in one hand, brushing his thumb over the tips of your toes. The first touch in this lifetime, the first time upon your new virgin body, so intimate, private; he might as well have wrapped a blanket around them with how warm his hand is, secure and trustful. Goosebumps flood your skin, bringing in the iciness that you felt when you took in his beauty against the background of the trees and the moonlight. And its beams must be stitched around his fingers because daintiness clasps you close, the notion that you’re taken care of, in good hands, descending upon you like the most delicate feather tickling you, and you let it—you let it consume you. 
And you let his following question consume you just as much. 
“Were you in love with him?” 
It’s a question you never had the bravery to ask yourself in the two months you’ve been single, but it is here and you welcome it. You hear it whisper to you the hint of your answer and your body is smart enough, capable enough to figure it out. 
No need for long nights of overthinking. 
No need for long hours of listening to your heart crack.
“No, I was used to him—that’s different,” you hush out and the moon lowers herself, spilling through your windows, bathing you in a milky light that feels as welcoming, as right as your confession. And maybe, just maybe it’s the way the shining stream submerges in your neediness that drives you to be bratty. And briefly, before you do, you ponder over the fact how in your life shared with this person drives, moves forward. There’s never a still time—and you find that mesmerizing. Enough for you to simply brood in greed. “What’s it to you?” 
Hoseok flinches. Parts his mouth. His chain rattles and his fingers squeeze the balls of your feet, coaxing a hum out of you that is immediately silenced by his sudden outburst. 
“What’s it to me?” 
There it is. Another plot point. Your heart hammers. 
Hoseok lets go of your feet and you lament the absence. Stands up and towers over you, the moonshine soaking him in divine light that causes your breath to hitch in your throat. A faint layer of sweat has coasted along his hairline and settled there—and you long to swim in his bodily fluids. In the persona of his, in the tumultuous sea of the tension locked within him. 
“You’re genuinely asking me this question?” he pressures, lifting your legs in order to step in between them, and the unthinkable visits you once again. He props his hands on either side of your head and those two dog tags swing in your face. 
A wet patch forms in the center of your pajamas. Your breath mirrors his—hasty, deep and strained—and you can’t take it anymore. 
How far into this road of bravery until the moon averts its opaque eyes away from your sin? 
You arch your spine, hook your fingers on his dog tags and pull him a little closer. Breathe his air, breathe in his masculine, musky scent that intoxicates your senses to the point that there is absolutely nothing stopping you from getting dragged in the natural flow of this situation. 
“Yes, Hoseok. What’s it to you?” 
He pants. Glides, delicately, his fingers along your arm until he winds up at your small fist, clutching it in his as if it was his. And that warmth, you want to dip your head in it. 
“I had to watch you sit in that chair and not crack a smile. Sit next to him like an obedient girl, not allowed to speak. To me,” he grunts, tightening his lips, and that anger of his seeps into you, becoming yours. “He didn’t deserve you. You’re not a pretty toy. You’re a person.” 
He straightens but, panicking, you draw him right back by that chain. “Don’t fucking walk away from me.” 
He seethes and you feel your essence trickling down your thigh. That sea, inching forward, you whimper. And then he spreads that warmth over the crown of your head, rubbing your hairline just once with his thumb before he peels off your eye patches that you have forgotten about. 
And this is when your brows curl. This is the time that says there’s no going back. 
“I talked to you. We fought, don’t you remember?” 
He sweeps that digit over that soaked dark circle of yours underneath your eye. “What do you think would’ve happened to you if I talked to you nicely?” 
Cold shoulder. Uncomfortable time of forced aloneness, filled with the abyss of guilt that you had done something wrong. A toy that didn’t move its lifeless limbs right by his will. 
“I’ve known him for far longer than you. I know how he treats those he thinks he loves. I brushed it away with the others, but with you… I couldn’t. You were so full of life that was stuck in you because of him. Because he didn’t let you let it out. And I can’t forgive him for that.” 
What life? The one you searched for all your girlhood, the one Namjoon molded with his own hands until it no longer recognized the once-familiar lines of his palm? The one that yearned for Hoseok instead? 
A film of tears clouds your eyes and as hard as you try to blink them away, they linger, pooling at your waterline like sea foam. You need your vape, you need him inside you—you can’t face the mirror of the reality of that unfair treatment. 
How blind you were; how Hoseok has become that guiding stick. 
“Don’t forgive him,” you utter, grasping his chain tighter, drawing him even closer, making his breath tremble. The first tear that pours out leaks into the print of his thumb and at the sound of your soft cry, Hoseok topples. Kneels on the couch with your legs on either side of him and you pull, you pull him closer. 
“Do you want me?” he asks—a foolish, foolish question. Presses his forehead against yours, cups your face with both hands now while his back shakes and you touch it, you drag your fingernails down those prominent muscles. And he sighs, so desperately, so tenderly. “Do you want me to let out that life in you?” 
“Yes,” you whisper, sliding your hands underneath his black shirt, scratching the lowest part of his warm, warm waist before hooking your fingers on the waistband of his pants. It’s his—it always belonged to him. “Take me. Here.” 
He brushes his nose against yours, your breath and his singular. “You’re so feisty.” Lips nearly touch yours and your lungs give out on you, your air coming out in pathetic staccatos that make him growl, subduedly. Muscles rigid, bundle of nerves devoutly pulsing. Please, please. “But no.” 
The world implodes, the mocking shimmer of that planetary light gushing through—hand in hand with sobriety. 
But Hoseok, the prince of the unthinkable, dips your head back into that darkness. Lifts you by your armpits and sets you down on his lap, his hard length against your core uprearing your need for release. 
A hand sailing down your neck, your sternum, acknowledging itself with your respiration. “Don’t give it to me that easily.” 
Your own cages him there, right at the apex of the fleshiness of your breasts. “Jebal, Hobi.” 
Please, Hobi. You drive, in his fashion, your hips forward—ever so slightly. His eyes round at the mellow variation of his name wandering out of your mouth and wrapping around his neck, as if the gentleness you give him pains him, transforms into a noose around his vocal cords and he can’t speak. 
He sighs, the noise melting into a soft, low-pitched moan. “Don’t beg me,” he croaks out, so terribly strung out. “I’m-I’m—”
You lengthen your spine, closing your mouth over that one spot on the side of his throat that you can reach, silencing him. He doesn’t need to speak—you’re fine with the tacit language of his hands. And the taste of his skin, that fucking warmth dissolving upon your tongue, you can’t help but to moan just the same against him like that, rocking your hips awfully, awfully slowly, driving him to the point of madness that he stood at the edge of for so long. 
“I want you to touch me,” you murmur, tugging his hand lower to the first done button of your silky shirt and it’s him who hooks his fingers over that fabric now. You lick a stripe across the thick vein of his throat, grinding a little harder when you hear him suck in a pained breath. “I want you to feel that life in me and know it’s yours. Jebal, Hoseokie.” 
He grunts, ripping you away from him. You expect his eyes to be narrowed in that typical manner of his, but they’re not. They’re soft, round and glossy, looking down at you, unblinking. A face you’ve never seen before, that feels too, too significant—and you’re not sure if you deserve to get a load of it. Of his pinkish cheeks and downturned mouth, of his fingers agonizingly sluggishly undoing the first button of your shirt. 
Of his sentimentality that you never thought he was so efficient at. 
The sea that has remotely stilled—but you’re still riding the lenient waves, your torso curving with each button popping off as he engraves his warmth into your cold, cold skin. And once he reaches the very last one, he stops. Holds your shirt together, squishing your breasts, waiting for you to lift your head out of the sea water. 
And you do. 
He inches forward, grazing his lips against yours, making you feebly cry out. 
“Did you cry for him?” 
Your cry prolongs, vexation splattering over your arousal, and you’ve had enough of it. You flick your eyes between his, drawing back, flattening your lips in that anger of his that seems to be still flowing in you somewhere. No more, no more Namjoon; no more talk of your past relationship. It’s over, it’s over.
“Stop fucking—”
Hoseok doesn’t relent. Sinks his fingers into the roots of your hair at the nape of your neck to make you listen. “Did you cry for him?” 
Your heart wept, but your eyes didn’t. The tear you shed in front of him was the only liquid emotion that spilled out of you since the day of the break up. “No.” 
He blows a heavy breath of relief that oddly validates you—and light opens in your sensitive bosom. “Good girl.” 
And it is now that Hoseok presses his chest, his dog tags against that light of yours and clamps his mouth down on your top lip, hoisting you a tiny bit to sit you right down on his manhood. His strong arm wraps around your back while the other floats down and curls around your bum, growling into the kiss that he deepens. And then he parts your lips with his, slipping his tongue inside, and the dam breaks between your legs—as well as the quick little whines and squeaks that begin to leak out of your mouth and into his. 
The life in you throbs. 
His cock hardens even more underneath you and he pushes your clit against it, his noises and yours growing louder and louder in tandem until he’s breathless, panting so vivaciously that he needs a moment. A moment to focus on the mess he’s created of you, a glowing ball of rosiness, the prettiest of all flowers—and you feel like it, being looked at like that. 
“I knew you were smart,” he coos, peppering feathery kisses upon your cheek, jaw and chin, descending to the base of your neck. You moan out, fisting his shirt below his collarbones, the continuation of his validation for you nesting in your core. “That life in you will always win. No matter what.” 
You believe him—in fact, there’s nothing left for you to do, but to submit, submit and submit. And it feels like entering a dream that is kind, a reality that appears to be a dream, but is better. An existence smeared with clemency, where you can be a little girl again. 
“Touch it, please.” 
Hoseok hums, kissing the cleft between your clavicles. Shifts forward on the couch so you can rest your spine on the backrest, your head against the wall, and he slides his palms upward from your tummy to the apex of your breasts. You whine, torturously, at the contact, and you shudder and double over when he swipes his thumbs over your still stiffened nipples, buzzing shocks of acute pleasure coursing down your body, rooting in your clit that asks for his fingers, his tongue, but he remains where he is. Transfixed, starving, ravaged. 
He kneads your breasts like he kneaded his hands, with overpowering strength that quickens your blood flow, your body submitting to him and flushing like his does. A sliver of skin that your shirt exposes catches his attention—and at the sight of the flesh of your breasts spilling through, his cock twitches, his breath ragged, eyes droopy and so, so drunk. He pinches your nipples, still through that silken fabric, as if he was punishing you for causing him this unfair pain. 
Knead, flick, pinch. Your noises are obnoxious, his heat in you rising and rising, and you can’t take it anymore. The drum in your clit thuds and you push him away, the pleasure too overwhelming, too good and too arousing. 
And he pushes away the fabric, revealing your perky breasts. A glint settles on the edge of his irises and he gives you a coy smile before he smashes his mouth against yours, moving it in a rhythm that reflects the one in your bundle of nerves. And you grind, you grind like your life depends on it, your nipples and your pussy rubbing against him, against his icy dog tags, getting you closer and closer to your orgasm. And you would come like this had he not physically ripped you away from him. 
Heaving, he focuses, all over again, on the ruination he makes of you. The warmth in you flits so invitingly that you have to touch the places he did—your stomach, your sternum, your breasts. And as you do, you watch his gaze darken, you watch him nod his head, and wipe the corner of his mouth clean, catching his drool. 
“You feel it, don’t you?” he rasps, following the invisible traces you left on your body. Your stomach, your sternum, your breasts. “Right here. Life. Beautiful life.” He teases your hardened nub, circling it with the pads of his fingers, sliding it between his knuckles and squeezing, his smile growing with each shudder of your chest, with each response. “It’s time to make you come and let it out, you ready? Let’s take these off.” 
He tugs off your pajama pants, throws it behind his shoulder, examines the large wet stain on your panties that he coos at, raspily, petting it with his thumb—and you’re so turned on that even such faint touch like that brings you pleasure. You hold onto his arms for dear life, depending on him, trembling when the panties and the shirt are next, tossed upon the pile of your pants. 
You’re bare and he’s still fully dressed. Such titillating unfairness that turns you unhinged, maddened by liveliness your body is diffused with. 
Hoseok pins your legs back. Takes one hand and glides his fingers across your entire femininity, soaking them in the dew he has coaxed out of you, moaning gutturally. 
“He never made you wet like this, did he?” he asks, pride dripping out of him like his masculine pheromones, and with his wet fingers he palms himself. “You don’t even have to answer that. I know. I need to taste you, baby.” 
You don’t even get to fill a lungful of the stuffed, vanilla-scented air and he dives in, keeping your legs glued to your shoulders as he seizes your clit in his mouth, sucking on it briefly before he flattens his tongue all over you. He licks you like a lost man finding an oasis, humming into your heat while he tastes your personal slickness, swallowing everything he sowed. You bang your head on the wall, a numbed pang expanding all throughout your scalp by your claw clip, taking it all, moaning so loudly the whole of Seoul must be hearing you. Even Namjoon in his drunkenness, shameful that he never managed to eat you like this in the eight months you were his to consume. 
Your orgasm inches to you quickly. With half-lidded eyes, you watch the candlelight create sublime, eccentric images on his back. And as if he couldn’t handle the warmth anymore, he peels himself away from you just to take off his shirt, adding it to the pile. He doesn’t let you see his muscular body—he plunges back down, tongue outstretched, flicking the muscle on your swollen clit. He pinches your thigh, your mound, your folds, whimpering onto your flesh, hurrying to close his mouth over you to suck your clit. 
And within that divine suction, you come apart. The beautiful images on his back advance, fluttering on his smooth skin, and you hold him to yourself. The life in you explodes, saturating him in a dimmed, soft-hued, colorful light that he himself must be sensing because he moans, loudly, sinking his index finger inside your clenching hole. You can’t speak, you can’t breathe—you can only feel, you can only take. Your orgasm continues on, a ceaseless stream of delight untwisting in every part of your body. 
And when he begins to fuck you with that finger of his and hits that good spot, your orgasm melts into another one. And this time, you can’t take it. 
You shake so vivaciously that you fall off the edge of the couch, but he catches you. Hoseok unclips your hair and lays you down, propping your hips on the armrest instead and when he bends at the waist and opens his mouth, you scream out your disagreement, pushing him away. 
He blinks at you, mouth sopping wet. “I wasn’t finished.” 
Your oxygen is stuck in your throat, one that gets bespeckled with the beads of your dew. “Hoseokie—”
He traces it, wiping it off, holding you there. Presses his hard, clothed length against your bare pussy, rocking slowly, casting a private, affection-filled shadow with the arch of his body over yours. Hoseok kisses you once, a nasty kiss perfumed with your tangy scent, and you cry out. 
“The fact you can’t take the bare minimum personally offends me. He had you all to himself and he didn’t do his job well,” he mutters, squeezing your throat once. Drags his wet hand down your sternum, grasping a hold of both of your breasts, clenching them until they flush, again, like him. 
There it is, the saltiness of his sea. You yearn for the physical principle of it coating your tongue—for his cum to trickle out of the tip of it like your dew is off of his. And his words, his anger towards his best friend because of you—it heals you in a way you could never heal yourself. Another person seeing you and telling you that you deserve better, it is the most pristine form of remedy there is and you splutter on the whole beauty and compassion of it all, too weak to accept it at once. 
“That’s right,” you agree, as enthusiastically as your dopeness allows you, smiling lopsidedly, heart pounding. “Go slow on me.”
He croons, squeezing his eyes. “My little girl.” 
He buries his face in your neck, kissing you there, and along with the life in you—your heart explodes, too. The finality of your detransformation. Tears of joy ache in the corners of your eyes, the rawness of human fulfillment housing in you for all eternity. 
He kisses his way down to your breasts. “I’ll go slow on you,” he promises, darting out his tongue and flicking it over your nub, making you tremble. He straightens and dances his fingers along your thighs—up to your knees. “Do you want to stop here?” 
You shake your head. Place your feet flat on his toned stomach while you feel your dew dribble down your bum. Hoseok smiles, his mouth curving in that way of his that causes your own stomach to drop. He holds your heels, hooking his finger under the band of your socks and yanking them off. 
And his grin blooms at the sight of your dusty-pink toes, an endeared look thawing his eyes. He rubs them like he did at the beginning of this journey, keeps one at his stomach while he lifts the other one to his mouth. 
Your poor heart skips a beat. 
“Do you want me to fuck you like a little girl like you deserves?” 
He kisses the ball of your foot, doesn’t break the eye contact. Watches your mouth part in absolute astonishment and your cheeks deepen in their hue. And when he kisses it again, slower this time, it wakes you up from your stupefaction, and you lower your free foot down to his clothed cock. Hoseok groans, the sound muffled against your tootsie, shutting his eyes at the impact. Your chest flickers with a sense of pride that you made him react like that—and you want it again. You trail your toes across that length of his, but before you could reach the most sensitive part of him, he stops you. 
Sucks in that pained breath of his, red all over. 
“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come.” 
You mirror him, the idea of being capable of doing that to him pleasuring you. You leak onto the couch. Your blood boils. 
“That’s so hot.” 
He chuckles, anchoring your foot upon his heart, tapping it with your big toe. “It’s because you have my heart.” 
Your body ceases all work, as well as time. Even the candlelight pauses its dance, concentrating its caressing radiance on that chain of his. 
And you don’t think as you scurry onto your knees and embrace him, his dog tags no longer icy. He plants his nose into your hair, inhaling you, sealing you into the hug with both of his arms. Your heart reaches its own towards his and they cling to each other, too. 
And you’re not afraid to reciprocate his feelings—they’re as clear to you as that very luminescence of the vanilla candle. 
“You have me,” you whisper into his ear, his body not quivering but stable, safe. “You have my life. It’s more of a treasure than my heart.” 
He had you the moment he so evidently disapproved of your past relationship. He had you the moment he was curious to see if you were jealous when he was entertaining other women. He had you the moment he purposefully put a distance between you and him because he didn’t want you to get hurt by Namjoon. 
You just didn’t know it yet, not until clarity arose in front of you in the form of his honesty. 
Hoseok kisses your own ear, lingers there. “I want both.” 
“Then, have it.”
And he kisses your forehead. “Thank you. I’ll take care of it.” 
You can see in the ivory mist of his eyes that he means it—and so you tug off his military belt as you begin to pepper kisses down the column of his neck because he deserves it, because he cares for you, because he came to you as soon as he heard that you were single. And when you reach those dog tags, the words of his title imprinting themselves onto the surface of your lips, you clasp his cock in your hand. Too big for your small fist, too warm for you to handle—
“Lay back down.” 
You bite into the flesh right above that first steel pendant while keeping your eyes locked on his. “Yes, Sergeant.” 
Hoseok curses. Wrings a sharp gasp out of you when he pulls on your hair, giving you a nasty kiss full of tongue. “Don’t call me that when I need to be gentle with you,” he scolds, sucking on your bottom lip to make it better and you disintegrate. “Right now I would bend you over this couch and fuck you until Sergeant and Sir was all you knew, but I can’t do that. Not when you’re not used to me yet.” 
Yes, the promise of the sea—you convulse from head to toe, pining after it. 
“I want that so bad.” 
He nods, marking you on your neck. You whimper and he groans in response. “And I’ll give it to you, you just need to be good now. Lay down.” 
You comply, but you take him with you—grabbing him by that chain as you arch your back on the couch. He lets you, grins at you like the utmost sunshine, but that expression of delight breaks when a certain realization dawns upon him. 
“I didn’t bring any condoms.” 
You huff out a soft noise. “Good. I want you to come all over me.” 
Hoseok hangs his head low, sighing, on all fours above you. His chain swings, drawing the memory of this very night on your breasts. He looks up at you from this position, his eyes thin slits that cause you to clench around nothing. 
“I’ll give you a big load.” 
You beam like the purest angel, in spite of the context. “Yes, please.” 
Hoseok rolls his eyes back, his façade cracking, and he beams just the same, his mouth widening in the shape of a heart that moves through you. He kisses you deeply, a long peck that breaks you down into a putty, and when he withdraws, you can still see that smile plastered on his glowing face. 
“Good girl. Such good manners.” 
And with that praise, he sheathes himself inside you. You both gasp in union, entering a paradise no other human will ever witness in the afterlife. He stretches you out, slowly, careful not to hurt you as he waits it out, petting your hair in the meantime. 
“I can feel you stretching around me, fuck. You’re so warm, so tight for me,” he rasps, panting, that smile trembling on his lips as he tries to keep it together. He straightens, pinches your nipple and you feel yourself accommodating him quicker at that sudden electricity of pleasure, at the sight of his toned body and that chain. The shine of sweat, the dance of the candlelight, the width of his shoulders and carmine chest as it heaves in desperate hums and groans. You could come just from that—and the sensation is so dizzying that your eyes droop. Hoseok notices, grappling the crook between your neck and shoulder. “Stay with me, baby, you can take this. I’m gonna make you feel so good and you’re gonna come on this cock.” 
Those hums of his cruise all the way to your mouth as he sinks that encouragement into it, kissing you deeply, pinning your hands back above your head and sliding his fingers into a celestial intertwinement with yours. They throb within you, those words of his, where they disperse all around, helping you believe that you truly can take the whole manliness of him. Your mind spins, the pressure of your shared atmosphere ringing in your ears, and he knows, he knows that you’re ready for him.
“I’m gonna start moving now. Talk to me, baby. Tell me everything you’re feeling as I fuck you,” he murmurs, unsheathing himself a tiny bit before he curls his hips forward and upwards, creating a languid, spine-tingling rhythm that replicates the waves of his sea. They slosh to and fro with every slow stroke and he kisses your good spot with the tip of his cock. Your eyes flutter open and close, rolling like those waves, but you can still see the way his jaw is clenched, his gums on full show as he seethes in his self-control, the flush of his neck and the flexing of his abdomen that you can’t help but to touch in your otherworldly daze. He stares down at you, intensely, narrows his eyelids and furrows his brows when he feels your touch, and you discover that the spot, where his V-lines lead to your antidote, is one of uttermost sensitivity. 
He moans, burying himself deep in you, and stopping there. Mound to mound, soul to soul.
“Fuck, baby, you just know where all my spots are, don’t you?” he asks, his voice so terribly strained, torso doubled over, and you grin. 
“I think I was born already knowing them,” you flirt and Hoseok pounds into you for it—a singular thrust that scrambles all your brain cells. Your smile falls, your brows crunch, your throat utters such whiny noise that he himself grunts at the sound of it, and when you lift yourself onto your elbows to see his length driving in and out of you, he pushes you right down by your throat, kissing you hard enough that it hurts.
And he alleviates the lip lock by licking over your tongue, toying with it—all while he, little by little, picks up the rhythm, fucking into you with a force that coaxes your rawest moans out of you. 
“You can’t handle my tongue and I can’t handle it when you flirt with me,” he scoffs, smacking his mouth as he turns his head, claiming your mouth, claiming you. “God, I wanna destroy you so bad.” 
Your cry is cut out by another savage thrust and you claw at that sensitive spot of his, inciting him to do it again and again. “I’m yours to destroy.” 
He pauses, the crown of his cock teasing the beginning of your heat. Sweat drips down his temple and he runs a hand through his hair, messing it up in a way that makes your heart twitch in absolute sensuality and relish. 
“Say that again.” 
Your breath hitches. “I’m yours to destroy.” 
Hoseok curses, driving into you all the way. You whine out, clenching your fists, feeling every ridge and every vein of his cock glide forwards and backwards along your walls. And by tensing your body and focusing on the delight he’s gracing your body with, the build-up of your orgasm announces its presence.
“Fuck, Hobi, you feel so good,” you cry, gripping his forearms as he begins to hold your waist steady. He jackhammers into you so viciously that your vision scatters with a creamy hue of ivory, moaning in ragged staccatos that influence you so much that you naturally imitate them, fading into him, becoming one. 
“Whose are you?” he growls without interfering with the gracefulness of his sadism, moving back only an inch before slamming back into you, bruising your cervix—and you lose all brain cells, the synapses blanking out. 
But only one thing is clear. 
“I’m yours.” 
And the following snap of his hips drives you out of this world and out of this universe. The gravity keeps your muscles tense, confining your pleasure and the closeness of your orgasm within. The ringing grows in volume and you’re on the cusp. 
Hoseok is, too, because he begins to beg. 
“Please, please, baby. Come for me. I’m so fucking close for you. Please, I’m gonna come all over you.” 
And with a scream that vibrates through the walls of your living room, you comply. Your core grips him, your skin prickles and you levitate—your back arches off the couch, aching to be closer to him, and Hoseok whines. 
Pulls out, straddles you, and fist-fucks his shaft with frantic, frenzied motions. Covers you with ropes and ropes of his cum that ripple on your stomach, your sternum and your breasts as you drift in and out of consciousness. Warm, warm essence of his masculinity that is warmer than the rest of him. 
Blood-hot. 
And you feel as though you deserved every drop. 
Deserved to see the beauty of his orgasm. The flush of his lower regions, especially. The sight you longed to see. 
Hoseok lets go of his manhood, his hand shiny and wet, though he’s still hard, reaching the beginning of your parting lungs with how big he is. Bigger than Namjoon, bigger than anyone you ever dated. Their names wither in your mind, decomposing. And they lose all meaning. 
They cease to exist. 
You’re not his best friend’s ex. You’re not anyone’s ex—
“Look at how little you are,” Hoseok comments, interrupting the surge of your maddened thoughts. He smears the puddle of cum on your stomach that his cock can reach and your pussy flutters in constant motions that ask for him again. “So little under me and all mine, aren’t you?” 
His avowal brings a fresh dose of oxygen into your lungs and you breathe it in. Want to breathe it in for the rest of your life with him. 
But Hoseok doesn’t stop there. Once you agree with him by the nod of your head and a dopey, gratified grin that casts an affirming light on him, he bends over you, his fists on either side of your head. 
“I’ll show you what true possessiveness looks like. The world will burn if it hurts you and if people say one bad word to you, it will be the last one they ever said. But they will talk to you and you will talk to them. You will learn about this life of yours. What it holds, what it looks like. And I’ll be standing beside you and I’ll watch over you. Learn it, live it with you.” 
He rubs your forehead with his thumb in a fond gesture. Looks at you with a mute meaning that touches your heart and crawls inside before he kisses you, relaxes his lips against yours, and kisses you again. 
Again and again. 
Again in the shower. Again in your bed when you’re riding him, tasting the life he let out of you, because you blazed up with desire after you washed his body. And the sex is quiet, smothered with those kisses until your mouth and his is numb. 
And again throughout the years you acknowledge yourself with that life and realize that you understand it more profoundly and clearly in the process of getting to know Hoseok than this world. 
Hoseok is that life. 
And you kiss him and whisper those words onto his mouth when you marry him at the altar, years and years later, connecting your life and his forever. 
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mclarensangel · 2 years ago
Text
Chapter 6- The Royal Announcement
Warnings: female presenting character, mentions of abuse from a parental figure, mentions of bullying, mentions of the death of a side character, yoongi being adorable, namjoon being protective, namjoons eomma being protective, low self esteem, crying, mentions of a dog
Word Total: 4.2k
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Claps soon emanate from the room at the acceptance of the king’s proposal of marriage. Briefly glancing just past the shoulder of the king, you saw your two other contenders, standing there practically green with envy. Their faces contorted with anger at the realisation that they would never be queen. You had the power. But you didn’t care about the power, it was the love of the boys both in front of you and behind you. The boys who you had become so close to, that you felt if you were away from them for too long your heart may break. 
Namjoon turns back around, and his eyes fall onto the crowd before him. Rustling is heard as people fall to their knees to bow to their king and now… their future queen. Eun-Bi and Seol-Hyun begrudgingly follow the audience's lead. Once everyone had risen again, Namjoon addressed the audience once more. 
“Tonight we shall celebrate my bride. The wedding will take place in 50 days. I would like to invite my beautiful future queen's family forward. However, first I would like to introduce the two candidates who did not make it. Tradition states that you are now Kings women” he began, turning to face the women who now held mischievous smirks on their faces. Namjoon squeezed the hand he was still holding before continuing on “However, that will not be what is happening this time. The woman whom I will marry will be the only one for me” he carried on, turning back to the crowd fully “As you all may know, I have never had a… collection…” he grimaced “of concubines. And I will not be starting now. I invite you all to enjoy the celebrations. And I especially look forward to meeting my bride’s family” he finished. A sudden pang hit your chest when you realised Namjoon was meeting your father. You had spoken with the Queen Dowager about what your relationship with your father was like, and you didn’t know if she had mentioned it to the boys, but knowing her, she would have. 
Putting on a brave face, you smiled whilst your family made their way up to the two of you. Your mother was the first to greet the two of you, a look of pride and a smile as wide as her face greeted you. 
“Chin-aehaneun, I am so proud of you. I have missed you so much” she spoke, placing her hands against your cheeks, love radiating from her eyes. Pulling you into a hug, you allow yourself to take a breath of her scent. The scent reminded you of home. Of love. Of warmth. Of her. She was wearing her best hanbok for this occasion. The jeogri was a beautiful crimson colour, the chima matching the colour perfectly. Your family emblem is sewn into the bottom of the skirt as yours had. The goreum was in a beautiful white, a contrast to the dark colour of the other fabric just beneath it. After a brief hug, your mother took a step back, before falling onto her knees in front of the king. 
“My deepest apologies, your royal highness, for I did not greet you first, as I should have. It has been so long since I have been able to hold my daughter that I forgot my place. Please forgive me, my King”. Namjoon laughed joyfully, crouching down to pull your mother from the floor, a smile so handsome that you felt your heart miss a beat and a smile crawl onto your lips. 
“Eomeoni, you need not thank me. I would have done the same in your position. Thank you for giving birth to such a woman, my family and I love her.” he said pulling her to stand. “I would like to formally invite you to dine with the Kim family, where you will dine alongside myself, my eomma and my closest men. Please join us in the dining hall in around 10 minutes from now?” he said, his hand closed around your mothers as he talked. After receiving a nod of confirmation from your mother, he lets go of her hands and takes a step back. The handsome smile falls from his face, as he moves his hands behind his back. The briefly gentle-looking man, now looking every part of King Namjoon. He turns to your father, his face stern and solid, his teeth grit together. Your father, pretending to play the part of a loving father, takes a step towards you. However, it is not Namjoon that stops the man from taking a step closer to you. Its Yoongi. Both yours and your father's faces change to one of shock. Your father goes almost red in anger before he remembers where he is and takes a step back once more. 
“My apologies Sir, I didn’t realise I couldn’t greet my own daughter” he spoke to Yoongi, disdain evident in his voice. Yoongi smirked at the audacity of the man before him. Yoongi remembered everything you had told him of your father from the times you had spent together since arriving here, he had also been told by the Queen Dowager, when she warned everyone of the turbulent relationship between the two of you before the ceremony. 
*5 days previous*
The boys had decided that today was Yoongi’s day to spend with you. He had been the busiest and had the least amount of time to spend with you, and as it was his free day, they deemed it only fair that it was his day. You had received a letter in the early morning to meet him in the cherry blossom gardens, on the dock by the lake. One of his men would be there to escort you, just in case you got lost. You found out recently when trying to find a wishing well that Jungkook had told you about in the east corner of the grounds, how easy it really was to get lost in a place such as this, so you were thankful that someone would be able to escort you to the exact right place. 
Dressing in the hanbok that Jimin gifted you, you revelled in the beauty of it. Watching how the sun hit the purple shades beautifully, and how it caught the glimmer of the golden thread that was sewn into the dress in butterfly shapes. Making sure to attach the norigae to the outfit, your heart filled with happiness and love at the thoughts of the time you had spent here so far. Sitting down you pull on the lilac beoseons and then place the purple gomusin’s. Finally, you turn and shuffle over to where your mirror sat, and where your ladies were waiting for you. On the table by the mirror were the golden cheopji’s that you had been gifted alongside the outfit you were currently wearing, as well as the earrings that Yoongi had gifted you. Your heart fluttered as you remembered what he had said when gifting them to you. No one other than your mother had made you feel as loved and as beautiful as the 6 men you met with regularly and the Queen Dowager. You had yet to meet the king for the final part but the men of his that you had met gave you hope that they would be as kind as them. Alongside the earrings from Yoongi, was the ring that Taehyung had gifted you. Luna, the puppy that Jungkook had gifted you, sat next to you, her head resting on your leg as Hwasa began styling your hair, braiding it but allowing some hair to fall in strands around your face. She places the cheopji’s in carefully, before moving on to her next job. Applying a gentle rouge to your lips, making them a gorgeous pink colour. Soft and inviting, you hoped. Whilst Hwasa was attending to your hair and makeup, Hyo-Seong got to work placing the jewellery onto your body. First, she placed the earrings in your ears, making sure not to let any of the loose hair knot into the earrings. Then, she placed the signet ring on your little finger on your right hand, the finger closest to your ring finger, making you smile down at it. Once they had both completed their respective jobs, they took a step back and smiled at their work. Hyo-Seong took a step to the side, retrieving a collar and a rope-like item. The rope had a handle fashioned onto it, and any loose hairs on the rope had disappeared. It was able to be tied onto the collar. Hwasa called Luna over to her, who upon hearing her name bounded over to the lady. Placing the collar carefully around the neck of the dog, she then attached the lead, before handing the part with the handle to you. You stood up, smiled at your dog and the ladies and made your way towards the door. 
Pulling open the door, you saw a man with his fist raised. The man jumped and took a few steps back. 
“Lady Seo, I am here to bring you to the Head Directorate, His Lordship Min Yoongi, please accompany me this way,” he says, bowing slightly and moving his arm to gesture the way towards the cherry blossom gardens. Bowing slightly back, you turn and smile towards your ladies before moving out of your apartment and following after the young man just ahead of you. Moments later, you arrive in front of the man who you had previously been told about. Min Yoongi, in the flesh. He stood by a large piece of fabric on the ground. Pillows are strategically placed, allowing for comfort as well as for being able to see each other comfortably. A small wooden table sat near the end of the pier. It held so many of your favourite foods, that you have discussed with the Queen Dowager or one of the other boys. Everything from your favourite snack to your favourite dessert was on the table. Another table just to the left of it, held different drinks, also, more of your favourites. Luna didn’t care to notice your admiration and tugged on the rope to get to Yoongi, wanting belly rubs from the man. Yoongi noticing the pull on the lead gave you a swift nod, and you let go of the lead, allowing her to run to the man, desperate for his attention. You smile at the sight of the usually stoic man, smiling a gummy smile down at the small dog. Your heart felt so full at that very moment. Seconds later, Luna got bored with the tummy rubs and went and laid on one of the cushions, lying directly on her back, paws in the air, soaking in the sun as if she was a human trying to soak up the sun into their bones. Yoongi lets out a short laugh, directing his gummy smile towards you, before holding his hand out…
“Shall we, Lady Seo?” he asks. You smile back at the man, taking his hand and allowing him to lead the way over to the cushions. 
“I may have had to ask the boys and eommoni what your favourite food and drinks are,” he said nervously, taking a jug of liquid and pouring it into two separate cups. Handing one to you and then taking his. You both smile at each other and take a small sip of the liquid. A content smile leaves your lips once you have swallowed the sweet liquid. It was peach tea, much like the tea that is served at the Queen Dowager’s luncheons. Served in your favourite way, cold and sweet. You take another happy sip, before placing the cup down and turning to look at the man before you. 
“You did not need to do all of this for me, my lord,” you told him before continuing “I deeply appreciate and love this, but it is not I that deserves this”. The words that come out of your mouth quickly make the man before you snap his head to you in shock. 
“Why is it that you have decided that you do not deserve this? What or who has made you believe that you are not worthy of all the love and attention that you receive? Tell me who and I shall have their heads immediately” the blonde-haired man speaks to you, his voice serious and his eyes full of questions and… worry? Why is the man before you worried? It could not be that he has feelings for you, you tell yourself. Bowing your head slightly, you try to put into words the thoughts that are swirling around in your head. 
“I do not know how much the Queen Dowager has told you about myself. So please allow me to tell you myself.” you began “When I was growing up, I briefly attend schooling, mainly on elegance, reading and other such subjects. Whilst attending this school, I met Yeji, my best friend, and my school bullies, who are also here, Kim Seol-Hyun and Kwon Eun-Bi. They made my life in and around that school a living nightmare, they would constantly taunt my weight and…. The…. my….. My sister died when I was younger, it couldn’t be helped, we did everything we could, tried every doctor, and every medicine. Nothing worked, and she passed away in my arms. The two girls somehow knew of this and told me every day that it was my fault, that the reason she passed was due to me, and that she never got any food, but that wasn’t true. I barely ate when my unnie was ill, I was always the one looking after her. And that’s when my father started drinking, using the money on beer instead of looking after his family. I tried so hard to keep my family together, but I just couldn’t do it. And those two… beasts made everything worse, to the point where I engrained into my brain that I was undeserving of love, because surely if three people tell you that you are unworthy of love that must be true right?” you spoke. You jumped when you felt a soft thumb touch your cheek, wiping away the tears you didn’t know that you had spilt. 
“You are worth so much more than their meaningless words, you are worthy of so much love and you deserve so much love. They do not even deserve to be in your presence. You are an angel that has been sent down to show us what we have been missing and what we need in our lives. You don’t have to tell me any more if your heart does not desire to do so” He spoke, his eyes never leaving yours, as he continued to wipe more tears away from your rosy cheeks. 
“Things between my father and I got a lot worse when unnie died. He drank more, and he treated me worse. He would come home from drinking and say ‘im using this money for your future’, he would tell me that his drinking was all my fault. That it should have been me who died. The night that Lord Kim Seokjin announced that the King was looking for a Queen in our village was the night that my father attacked me for the first time. When I came home with the news that the Supreme Commissioner had visited and told us the news, he told me that I would not be proceeding with the application. I tried to be brave” you continued on. Yoongi took a hold of both your hands, enveloping his large ones with yours. He squeezed them and you gave him a gentle smile before continuing on. “ I told him that he has no authority in this decision, that the law dictated that we must, or our family would be shamed. My mother was so happy to be able to do this for me. She told me to go and get myself ready for the dinner that we would be having with the Hwangs. And so I did, I went to my room to get myself ready and I had taken some of my braids out when my father stormed into the room. I had never seen him so angry before. I felt trapped… and…. And… scared” you spoke. Tears began falling down your face at a more rapid pace. Yoongi could see your eyes beginning to fill with fear as the story continued on. “He stormed in and told me that I was treating him as a child as if I was his parent. I was sitting down, so I thought standing up might make me safer, but he obviously thought differently. He lunged towards me, and he grabbed some of the braids that were still tied and yanked me to the floor with them. I remember hitting my head and then him screaming at me” you stated. Yoongi continued to watch as your eyes became more and more distant as if you weren’t really there with him. Almost like you had been transported into your memory. He moved to sit next to you, holding you in his arms. Allowing you to feel safe when you’re body was feeling terrified. “Even when I was on the ground he screamed ‘I am the man of this house’ and ‘I make the rules’. One of the things that hurt more than what he did was his screaming in my face ‘not a’” you hiccuped “ ‘a fat little girl who won’t even make it past the first stage’ and then he crouched down to my height, and told me that it should have been me that died, and I should never have been born and that I was a disgrace.” You finished, looking up into Yoongi’s brown eyes. Your eyes became more focused and then a light smile hit your lips “that's when my eomma came in. She grabbed him by his ear and dragged him out by it. I had never seen so much fire and anger in that women’s eyes ever before. It was truly a sight to behold. Once she had pulled him out of the house, she came back in and told me that I was none of those things that the man had told me and she held me as I curled up into her arms, My eomma has always been my biggest supporter.” you finished. Yoongi looked at you, and he didn’t look at you with shame or embarrassment, there was a look in his eyes that almost reminded you of love. He held you in his arms for a few moments longer before speaking to you again “your eomma is right, you are none of those things that the disgrace of man who calls himself your father called you. You are so much more. I have only known you for a short while but I know that I cannot let you leave my life. My life is so much better now that you are a part of it. And if I have anything to do with it, Namjoon… I mean the king, will make you his wife, and I… I mean we… I mean he, will be able to dote on you for the rest of your life. You are worth so much more than what he says, and if I ever have the displeasure of meeting him, know that I will have a few choice words to say to him” He tells you, his face stern, his eyes looking off into the horizon, making you giggle at his almost heroic position. 
“Thank you, Lord Min,” you told him.
“Call me Yoongi” he responded
“Thank you, Yoongi” you repeated. “I do have a question for you, however,” you continued 
“Question away nae salang/Sarang,” he told you, making you blush at him calling you ‘his love’.
“What is the relationship between you, the Great King and his other men? You need not tell me if it makes you uncomfortable my lord” you questioned. “Sorry I mean Yoongi”
The man laughs at your minor slip-up, making you feel at ease. He turned his body slightly more towards you. 
“The king, his men and I, well…” he paused, taking a deep breath before continuing “we are together. Romantically that is. But I personally have felt that we weren’t quite complete like there was something or someone missing. And I can’t speak for the other boys, well I can a little bit due to the discussions we’ve had. But when we saw you, it was like everything in the world became brighter, the colours more radiant, the breeze that much sweeter. Like you were destined to be ours. And so we told Namjoon, who will be choosing the final woman to be the bride, and we all concluded that you were the woman we wanted. So if you’ll have us, we want you. We all want you” he finished, looking you directly in the eyes, fear and nervousness swirling around in his eyes, as he waited with bated breath for your rejection or acceptance of his admission. 
“I want nothing more than to be yours, all of yours,” you told the man before you, bringing your hand up to rest against his cheek. His eyes lit up with joy as he stood up, pulled you up, and lifted you into his arms, spinning you around
“You need not apologise Sir Seo, but it is your King who you should address first, not your daughter. Or do you not have any respect for your King or even your future son-in-law” Yoongi spoke. His back was straight, his ceremonial robes fitting to perfection around every crease of his body, and his right hand resting gracefully on the katana that dangled from his left-hand side. The man before him looked flabbergasted. Namjoon let out a quiet snicker beside you that he easily covered as a cough if you did not know any better. 
“Who do you think you are, telling me who I shall and shan’t greet? The Great King was accepting of my wife greeting our beloved daughter before him, so I shall do the same” Your father spoke, digging himself into a deeper and deeper hole. Before Yoongi had a chance to respond to the ill-mannered man before him, the Queen Dowager stood, moving to stand between your father and the men who stood on either side of you. 
“The man who you are talking to” the Queen Dowager started “is the Head Directorate, a man way beyond your station. It is required of you to speak to him with respect. Or you see that katana that he holds so elegantly?” She spoke, moving her hand and body to gesture to the large blade that Yoongi held, her head turning just slightly more than her body to send a wink to the three of you. Once she has gestured, she moves her body back towards the man who fidgets in his spot, taking a step closer towards him, her face stiffening with hidden anger. She lowers her voice so that only those nearby can hear “I will personally assure you that he uses that ever so sharp blade to cut your head clean from your neck. If you ever think about disrespecting my family. Ever. again. Is that understood?”. The man before her swallowed in fear before nodding and bowing deeply towards the revered woman. 
He moves and stands in front of the king. He too falls to his knees and bows multiple times before him. Waiting for the command to stand to fall from the gracious king’s lips. He bows 5 more times before the words slip from between the plump lips of the king. 
“You may stand,” he tells him, his voice deep with authority. “However,” he continues on “as you so like to drink, you shall be sent to the bar. For good. You will never see your family again, you have lost your title, and if you think of ever causing any trouble, my mother will see that her threat becomes reality. Do you understand me?”. Your father stands there, his mouth falling open and closed as if he were a fish. After a few moments without a response, he sighs deeply before repeating. “I said. Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?” enunciating his every word. Your father, still not responding, stands there. It is only when Namjoon calls for the guards that he begins to realise the depths of his situation and tries to scramble his way out of it. He falls to the ground again and bows as deeply as possible, begging the tall man before him for his forgiveness. But Namjoon does not budge a single inch, glaring down at the man with the most amount of distaste you had ever seen in anyone's eyes. 
When your father has finally been removed from the room. Namjoon turns to your mother. 
“Eommani, I sincerely and deeply apologise for having to do that within your presence. It would be my greatest honour to house you within my kingdom. Would you do me that honour?” He asks the woman who is a striking resemblance to you. 
“It would be my honour, your highness she says” bowing as low as she can once more. Namjoon pulls her up before she can reach the floor before telling her “you need not bow towards me eommani, it is I who should bow to you.” He states, going to bow himself. Your mother stops him before he can even bow his back more than 45 degrees. She holds his hands in hers and speaks…
“Please call me eomma”
SERIES TAGLIST
@skyys-universe @yoongiigolden @zae007live @thedarkwinterrose
@namjinieesope @uniquelyabnormallyoriginal @poesreddeath @insert-a-creative-url-right-here @hey-syia @scentisterror @emu007 @hajimaoppaa @feedthefandoms995 @maetyun @explorewithd @treetops68 @bibebts @angel-121 @sbromp @zmbo97 @sgnsgssy @silverrr-spooon @el-insomnio-no-es-divertido @plutoneu @oppa-agust-d @jolinaprincess @iamhereforbts @wiccanmetallicrose @iwishididn0texist @hair1997 @uniquecutieprincess @agusfree @borahaetelevision @queen-in-the-shadows
PERMANENT TAGLIST
@ewok7attack @marcelka134340
PROOF READERS
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ninetailedfoxmanchi · 2 months ago
Text
Mafia! BTS - They're Your One-Night Stand and They Fall for You (hyung line)
Warnings: mature NSFW content (18+) (p in v, f oral receiving), mention of virginity
MASTERLIST
You had a huge argument with your best friend over her toxic boyfriend and she decided that the two of you should take some time apart but you knew that was just her boyfriend talking. You've known each other for years and were so close that her words came as an absolute shock and broke your heart. That night you just wanted to forget everything and have a good time. You went to the club with some of your other friends and danced and had a few drinks. You were tipsy enough to make you feel braver than usual but not remotely enough that you didn't know what you were doing. You had never had a one-night stand before but everything is a first sometime.
Jin
You were dancing at the club although the music wasn't really that good. You didn't care, though; you just needed to stop thinking about losing your best friend and let out the anger that you felt towards her toxic boyfriend.
When you followed your friends to go to the ladies' room together, you bumped into a tall figure.
"I'm so sorry," you said over the loud music. It was dark and the club was crowded. Another person was trying to make their way past you and pushed you into the stranger with force. You yelped in surprise as you fell but the stranger steadied you against him.
"Are you alright?" asked the stranger's deep voice. You finally managed to look up, your faces only inches apart. He was so handsome that it nearly took your breath away. Your heart was beating wildly as you nodded but your eyes drifted to his lips instead. You had never done that before but that night you were feeling completely reckless. The stranger's eyes found your lips as well and you took your chance. You stepped on the tips of your toes and closed the space between the two of you. The stranger's hands moved from your arms down to your waist as he pulled you closer. The scent of his perfume gave you goosebumps. It was strong but elegant not like the cheap colognes of other guys.
Before you knew it, you found yourself in the young man's apartment. You only had time enough to find out that his first name was Jin and you didn't care about the rest. All you wanted was to forget about everything and Jin was so good at making you forget. His touch made your knees weak and his kisses were so strong and passionate that all you could think about was wanting him.
Jin unzipped your tight black dress and pulled it down to your waist. He kissed your exposed shoulders as you untucked his white shirt. A loud moan escaped your mouth when he found the sweet spot on your neck and your fingers balled around his shirt. Jin tore his lips away from your neck and left soft, wet kisses down your chest and your tummy until he came to your waist. He pulled your dress off completely, his mouth watering at the sight of your lacy underwear. He kissed the front of it, making you gasp as he yearned to get a better access. Jin's large hands squeezed your bum as he picked you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. You could have never found the confidence to do all of this so easily if you were completely sober and you were glad for the few drinks you had.
You swallowed hard when Jin laid you down on his bed and pulled off his shirt. As if his kisses and confident touch weren't enough to make you soaking wet, the sight of his god-like body made your skin crawl with fever.
You found yourself tracing your toes gently from the waist of his trousers and past his length that hardened even more beneath your touch and down to the middle of his thigh. Jin watched you with a look in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine. He took off his pants and grabbed a condom from the nightstand. You pulled him down to you, your lips finding his before you helped him slip it on. The brush of your fingertips against his member made him so hard that he could come there and then. Jin wouldn't allow himself, though, not before he could feel himself inside of you.
Jin climbed on top of you and found your soft lips again. Your kisses were driving him crazy.
"Can you go slowly at first?" you whispered into the kiss, your fingers tangled in the stranger's hair. Jin opened his eyes and found yours. If you could blush any more, you would.
"Of course," he agreed and left a hickey beneath your jaw. You smelled fantastic and it made him almost feral but he remembered what you said.
Jin took off your soaked-through underwear and pulled your hips closer to his before he guided himself inside of you. You bit your lip to keep yourself from moaning but it helped little to contain your little sounds of pleasure. You couldn't help but curse under your breath as Jin began to move his hips and you could feel every inch of him inside of you. Your heart was racing like crazy and you couldn't get enough. Your nails dug into Jin's back, your legs wrapped tightly around his hips. It felt so good that you never wanted the moment to stop.
"Fuck," groaned Jin as he came closer and closer. His eyebrows furrowed into a frown and his grip on your hands grew firmer. Jin's face buried into your neck when he came, his breathing loud and heavy as he tried to calm down. You caressed his back, no less excited although you didn't finish. You didn't even expect to, given that this was just a one-night stand.
Afterwards, Jin went to the bathroom and took off the used condom. He ran his fingers through his hair when he came back, his eyes finding your sprawled across his bed. You were still breathing heavily, one of your hands on your bare tummy, the other somewhere behind your head. Your gaze tied with his when he waited by the bed.
Jin's fingers traced your calf first then his hand slid up your leg as he climbed onto the bed and he reached your thigh. Jin kissed your tummy first, his teeth softly grazing against your skin. Your heart began to race again and your stomach flipped with fireworks. Before you realized what Jin was doing, his mouth had reached your wet pussy. You gasped when his lips closed around you sucking and kissing and his tongue drawing shapes in ways that brought you to the edge of screaming. Your back arched when Jin's hands wrapped around your thighs and he brought you closer, your toes curling and your heart beating so loud against your chest that you forgot how to breathe. You whimpered as your legs shivered and pleasure took over your entire body.
"Oh my god ..." you cried when Jin pulled away from the throbbing, wet mess between your thighs. He turned to the inside of your leg and pressed hard kisses there as well, leaving a red marks on your tender skin.
***
You woke up in the morning with the sun in your eyes. You blinked, thinking you had died for a moment because it felt as if you had been sleeping on a cloud. It was just a large bed, however, with soft, plush covers scattered all around you. You sat up quickly when you remembered everything that happened. A blush so strong rose to your cheeks that your face was pulsating with heat. A sharp breath caught in your throat when you realized that you were naked and your underwear lay scattered on the bedroom floor. You jumped up quickly and put it on but your dress was nowhere to be found. There were three doors in the bedroom; one led to the walk-in closet, another to the hallway and the last one to the bathroom. Your dress wasn't there either but when you saw the smudged makeup on your face, you couldn't help but wash it away quickly and run your fingers through your tangled hair.
There was the sound of footsteps coming from the other side of the apartment. You saw a white shirt at the foot of the bed and slipped it on. The smell of it reminded you of every detail of the night and made your face flush. When you slowly made your way down the hall, you took in the luxurious apartment, not even noticing how extravagant it was last night. As you looked around, a pair of dark eyes was watching you with great interest. Jin's gaze followed your bare legs, the silhouette of your lacy underwear beneath his white shirt and your soft hair bathing in the morning sunlight.
You could feel someone looking at you. A loud gasp escaped your mouth when you turned around and saw your one-night stand behind the kitchen isle. He looked even better than you remembered; he wore a fresh shirt and suit trousers, a golden watch shimmering on his wrist as he held a cup of coffee in his other hand. Not only did you feel under-dressed and awkward about last night, you suddenly realized how out of your league he was.
"Good morning," he said and took a small sip of coffee.
"I ... I couldn't find my dress," you almost stuttered as you hugged your arms. Your cheeks were on fire. The man gestured at the sofa behind you. You slipped back into the bathroom where you changed quickly, not having the smallest idea of how to navigate the situation.
When you returned to the kitchen, the man was still there.
"Coffee?" He offered you a cup.
"Thank you ..." you tried to remember his name but you couldn't even if there was a gun to your head.
"Jin," he filled in a small but amused smile on his handsome face.
"Jin," you repeated and took a long sip that you desperately needed. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay," said Jin, unable to take his eyes off your beautiful face. He couldn't stop thinking about last night either. He couldn't say what it was and it irritated him to death, but something about you drew him in; he wanted to know more, he wanted to know everything.
"Are you hungry? I can make you some breakfast," he offered, taking you completely by surprise. Based on what your friends told you, one-night stands don't go this way. Some guys even made the girls leave in the middle of the night and yet he was offering to make you breakfast.
"I ... I'm not sure," your statement sounded more like a question.
"You're not sure if you're hungry?" asked Jin, unable to keep the smile off his face at how adorable you were. The warm look in his eyes gave you butterflies.
"No, I am but ... Shouldn't I go now?" you asked, only realizing how dumb you sounded after saying the words. "I'm sorry, I've never really done this before," you confessed and only made your cheeks go even redder.
"I can see that," smiled Jin and went for the fridge where he grabbed some ingredients for an omelette. You were staying for breakfast.
"What ... What do you do?" you asked carefully as you sat by the counter, taking in the lavish apartment. Jin couldn't have been more than a couple of years older than you and yet he either seemed to be making a fortune or inherited a colossal amount of wealth from his parents.
"I have a significant share of a company," said Jin diplomatically as he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt before he started whisking the eggs.
"Oh ..." You heard about really young people who invested at the right thing at the right time and became rich overnight. You figured Jin was one of them.
"Do you do this often?" you asked after Jin set a beautiful omelette in front of you.
"Cook?"
"No," you laughed a little, your cheeks turning red again. "I mean this ... Whatever it is ... was ..."
Jin watched you for a moment, trying to figure you out. He could tell that you had no idea who he was; he knew that last night already and it drew him in. People began to act differently once they found out who he was.
"Sometimes," said Jin honestly and you nodded as you took a delicious bite.
"This is really good," you complimented, completely focused on the food and not noticing the look of interest in Jin's eyes. He had never met anyone like you before.
"Thank you," he said. "You?"
"No," you almost laughed again and shook your head. "This isn't my thing, I've never even—" You stopped talking and froze when you realized what you just said. An eerie silence fell between the two of you as your face burned bright red and you could feel the blood pulsating from your neck to your cheeks.
You took another bite of the food and hoped Jin wouldn't ask further about what you practically revealed just now, but you could feel his eyes burn through you. For a long time, you really wanted your first time to be with someone special but as you grew older and went on more dates, the realization of that idea seemed nearly impossible. You didn't mind your first time being with Jin. You followed your instincts last night and went for it; it's not like you haven't done anything by yourself before that.
Jin watched you, trying to process what he just thought you said. His heart began racing faster as his eyes measured you from head to heel. You bit your lip as a pang of guilt shot through your chest.
"I hope you don't mind that I didn't say anything," you said apologetically and forced yourself to look up into Jin's eyes. "I didn't want to make a big deal out of it because it's isn't a big deal to me." Your voice slowly grew more quiet with each word. Jin stared at you, his lips slightly parted.
"Are you feeling alright?" he asked, leaning in slightly closer to you. Your eyes widened slightly and you blushed again. This was the last thing you expected him to say, a complete stranger.
You found yourself nodding truthfully. "Yeah, I ... It was great ..." you looked down at your plate and pulled another piece of omelette from the large roll with your fork. "It was pretty incredible really ..." you whispered under your breath when the memories came back to you.
Jin's hand went to your chin and propped it up before he kissed you. Your eyes widened at first but your instincts took over and you kissed him back. Your hand went to his smoothly-shaven cheek and you couldn't help but let out a quiet moan at how good Jin's plush lips felt against yours. He pulled away for a split second before leaning in again and pressing a shorter but no less passionate kiss to your lips.
Jin knew he was done for when he found it almost impossible to detach from your kiss. Your eyes staring up at him made his knees go weak - it was a completely new sensation for him.
"What are you doing tonight?" he found himself asking.
"I ... I don't know," you tried to think. The kiss made your brain all foggy.
"Let me take you out to dinner," said Jin. You stared at him puzzled.
"Me?" you asked timidly. You had never planned on this, not in a million years, but you would be lying if you said the thought of going out with Jin properly didn't excite you and give you butterflies.
"I'll pick you up at seven," he decided.
Namjoon
You were just coming back from the ladies' room with your girl friends when you saw a stunningly-handsome man. He was walking beside you back to the club area, his perfume sending shivers down your spine. The hallway narrowed to a single-door and he let you enter first.
"Thank you," you said with a small smile and slipped inside. When you glanced over your shoulder, the young man was nowhere to be seen. You frowned although you knew he was completely out of your league. What you found strange too, though, was that he was wearing a suit to the club. You wondered if he was the owner but he seemed much too young to own a business like this.
You had another drink and went back to the dance floor with your friends. You were dancing to the music, trying not to think about the absolute worst day you had. You couldn't believe how your best friend's boyfriend could manage to manipulate her so much that she would completely cut you off and her family too.
"I need to get some air," you voiced to your friend over the loud music. She nodded and continued on dancing.
You made your way through the pushy crowd, ignoring the weird guys who were gawking at you. They all looked the same; they dressed the same, they smelled like the same old cheap cologne; even their hair and faces looked the same.
You finally managed to make it through the back door, the cool air of the night filling your lungs and clearing your mind some.
"Everything alright?" asked a deep voice behind you. A small gasp escaped your lips as you jumped around. It's him, you realized when the young man in the suit stepped out from the shadows. He flicked away the cigarette butt in his hand.
You nodded as you hugged your bare arms. It was hot in the club but out here, the little black dress you wore wasn't remotely enough to keep you warm. Besides, you were sweaty from all the dancing.
"Actually, not really," you confessed and looked at the fluorescent light at the end of the back alley. The young man approached you.
"Anything I can do to help?" he asked and made you smile. You shook your head although you could help but allow your eyes to drift to the man's gorgeous lips. Your skin turned hot and prickly.
A pair of drunk girls in high heels emerged from the club suddenly and stumbled at you, pushing you against the stranger. He caught your arms and steadied you.
"Are you alright?" he asked after he threw a glare in the girls' direction. They were gone, though, giggling and stumbling down the alley.
"I'm fine," you nodded quickly. "Thank you."
"No problem," he said quietly as you looked up at him. There was hardly any space left between the two of you. A sharp breath caught in the back of your throat as your gaze fell on his lips again and he saw it. The stranger leaned down and kissed you. You responded immediately as you wrapped your arms around his neck and stepped on the tips of your toes. A small moan escaped your mouth when his hands took your hips and pulled you to him.
The moment that you made it into his apartment, the stranger grabbed your thighs and picked you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you to his bedroom.
"What's your name?" you whispered against his lips, hesitant to break the kiss for even a moment. He pulled away though, his eyebrows in a small frown as he looked you in the eye and stopped on his tracks. There was surprise in his dark irises and you wondered if he really was the owner of the club. You wouldn't have known him even if he was because you hardly ever went there.
"Namjoon," he said breathing heavily.
"I'm Y/N," you said quickly before you found Namjoon's lips again. His name sounded unique and familiar but in that moment you couldn't have thought about it less. All you wanted to do was to forget about everything and feel everything.
Namjoon sat down on the edge of the bed with you in his lap, your legs straddling his massive thighs. You kissed him hungrily as his large hands slid up your thighs and beneath your dress up to your hips. They stayed there for a while before Namjoon unzipped your dress and pulled it over your head. His lips went to your neck as you blindly unbuttoned his shirt, losing track for a moment when he found your sweet spot and a moan escaped your mouth. Namjoon's hand moved down your back and behind your lacy underwear. He squeezed your bum and made you move your hips closer to him so that you could feel how hard you made him. Once your wet pussy grazed his length, you couldn't help but continue moving your hips along it, making Namjoon's trousers wet.
"Fuck," he muttered against your chest. His fingers dug into your soft skin as he helped you guide your hips along his member. Your hair smelled so good that it made Namjoon's skin prickle with fever. He couldn't take it any longer.
Namjoon picked you up and laid you down on his soft bed. He pulled off his half-unbuttoned shirt and unbuckled his belt. He grabbed a condom from his nightstand and put it on although he wanted nothing more than tear it off and feel you raw.
"Come here," Namjoon almost growled as he pulled you back onto his lap. He let you stay on top although he was the one guiding you. A gasp-like moan caught in your throat as he entered you, making you feel so good. He moved his hips slowly at first, steadily as he watched your little pleasure-drunk frown. Your nails were digging into his strong chest, only making him more impatient. He guided your hips against him, your clit rubbing against his waist as you leaned forward. You began stroking yourself, the sight of it making Namjoon growl curses. He sat up properly and supported you in his strong arms as he made you take all of him. Your eyebrows were furrowed into a frown and your lips parted as you whined but it felt so good.
"Fuck ... Don't stop, don't stop," you begged as you edged closer. "I'm close," you whimpered just before your thighs quivered and Namjoon's thrusts made you wince after you climaxed. He was close too, so fucking close when he saw the expression on your face when you came.
Namjoon groaned against your chest when he came deep inside of you. The feeling of him throbbing inside your sensitive pussy made you whimper. You were breathing heavily in each other's arms, trying to find a way back from the high.
***
Your hands reached across the empty bed as you opened your eyes. It took you a moment to remember where you were and what happened. The memories brought a sharp blush to your cheeks as you sat up. You were wearing Namjoon's shirt and nothing else. The fabric still smelled like his perfume, giving you goosebumps.
You ran a hand through your messy hair as you stood up, your bare feet threading the cold wooden floors. For a moment your thighs quivered and your eyes widened. You remembered how good it was but even your body surprised you.
The first door that you opened was a bathroom and you couldn't be more grateful for it. After you gathered your clothes, you took a quick shower and washed away the makeup from last night.
When you made it back to the bedroom, a part of you hoped that Namjoon would be there and yet another was embarrassed to even look at him. You had never done anything like this before. You were always so calm and rational but last night something snapped in you. Everything had built up over the past few weeks and you just wanted to feel good for a change.
You made your way down the hallway and followed the sound of the TV news reporter. Namjoon was sitting on the sofa in front of a large TV and watching the morning news with the stocks information running at the bottom of the screen. He had a laptop open and a coffee in his hand. The apartment looked thrice its size in daylight and so lavish it made your stomach twist into knots. Maybe he really was the club owner.
You wondered whether you should say something at all or simply try and leave unnoticed. As you slipped behind Namjoon and almost reached the hallway, you bumped against an end table.
Namjoon turned around, his dark eyes finding yours.
"I'm just going to ..." you jumped around and gestured towards the door, letting him know you were going to be out of his way in a second. "I, um ... I left the shirt by the sink in the bathroom."
"Where are you going?" asked Namjoon and got up, forgetting completely about the stocks or the news or any of it.
"Home?" you suggested unsure. You had no idea how this worked. Based on what your more experienced friends told you, no one was lingering around for coffee and many of them were even asked to leave in the middle of the night or sleep on the sofa.
"Yeah, I know, of course," said Namjoon, a small smile creeping to his lips. He seemed much less intimidating now that he was talking to you rather than when he was frowning at the news. You almost forgot how handsome this man was but he reminded you simply standing in front of you.
"Do you want me to drive you?" he asked. Namjoon's voice was deep and dark but his brown eyes warm and inviting. "There's coffee too if you want."
You watched him unsure. His hands were in the pockets of his dark suit trousers and he wore a fresh new shirt as well.
"I, um ... Sure, coffee would be great," you smiled a little. "If it's not an inconvenience," you added quickly.
"Not at all," said Namjoon as he looked down at you. You looked different without your makeup and your hair done. You still looked perfect though.
You followed Namjoon into the kitchen where he grabbed some coffee. "I can try and make you some breakfast - try being the operative word," said Namjoon as he poured you some coffee.
"I'm sorry I really don't know what I'm doing right now," you said nervously as you hugged your arms. Namjoon turned to you, his brows in a small frown. "I've never done this before - should I've just left? I really don't want to impose if you're busy," you gestured to the living room behind you.
Namjoon rose his eyebrows as his eyes flickered to the TV before they tied back to your gaze. He placed a cup of hot, aromatic coffee on the counter before you and grabbed the remote. He turned off the TV and grabbed his own cup before he joined you in the kitchen.
"I'm not busy," said Namjoon. His hand brushed against your upper back as he made his way past you. Goosebumps rose on your arms.
"I'm curious," he confessed.
"Curious?" you rose your eyebrows, puzzled.
"Why did you do it this time?" asked Namjoon as you looked up at him. Your cheeks flushed pink.
"I just ... It's a really long story," you shook your head.
"I've got time," he said and sat down beside you. You gave him another look, unable to tell if he was just being polite but he seemed genuinely interested - so you told him. You told him about your best friend and how she had been acting strange since she started seeing this guy over a year ago; how she slowly cut everyone from her life and how it was your turn now.
"This is going to sound strange but ..." you shook your head as you stared down at your coffee. "I think my heart's broken." Your voice was quiet and weak. You licked your dry lips and looked up at the man who was nothing short of a stranger to you but he was listening to you nevertheless.
"I know it's not like love - romantic love - but ..." you tried to explain and ran a hand through your hair. "I just can't believe this is fucking happening ...
"I'm perfectly aware that I have no right to judge - I've never even dated anyone—" you went on but that's the last thing Namjoon heard. His eyebrows furrowed into a frown as he looked at you properly. He couldn't make himself believe the words coming out of your mouth. You were one of the most attractive women he had ever seen. Every last curve of your body reminded him of last night and made Namjoon realize how he wanted you for himself and not just for that one night and the fact that you were free ...
"I should probably go," you said when you saw the frown on Namjoon's face. You should never have stayed in the first place. But when you jumped off the stool, Namjoon stood up as well and caught your hand.
"Have dinner with me tonight."
"W-What?" you stuttered.
"Dinner tonight," decided Namjoon. "I'll pick you up at seven."
Yoongi
The dancing alone had little effect on you forgetting about your horrible day. The music was bad and the drinks you and your friends ordered were so watered down it was practically money thrown out the window. There was only one thing that was keeping your attention - him. He must have been around your age or maybe a few years older but it was dark and you didn't particularly care. He was talking to the club owner or perhaps a manager when his dark eyes found yours. A sharp breath hitched in the back of your throat when he caught you staring. You looked away at your friends who were dancing beside you but when you turned around, he was still watching you. His eyes tore themselves away from you when the manager motioned towards the back of the club.
It must have been an hour since when you told your friends you wanted to leave but they continued dancing. You tried make your way through the pushy crowd. There were guys gawking at you in your beautiful dress and your hair done perfectly. A couple of them wanted to stop you from leaving and make you dance with them but you managed to slip from their grabby, sweaty hands.
"God," you breathed as you pushed open some side door and the cool air of the night filled your lungs. You closed your eyes and threw your head back as if you were looking up at the night sky. You hugged your bare arms when the night air made you shiver.
"No, man, I'm telling you she wants it, I saw her go out here—" a man was talking to his friend and laughing drunkenly as they pushed through the same door where you came out. You jumped around when the door burst open and the two guys appeared that tried to make you dance with them. Your stomach twisted into knots and your skin prickled hot with fear. Your friends were still inside and there was no way of calling them.
"Look, there she is, I told you," grinned one of the guys and pointed his rude finger at you. The looks in the guys' eyes were terrifying because you had seen them a thousand times before and you knew exactly what they meant.
The smell of cigarette smoke came from the shadows on the other side of the door, only a small orange light visible to you. Someone stepped into the light in front of you, walking casually as if he were on an afternoon walk. Him. He breathed out the smoke as he took a look at his cigarette butt wondering if there was another drag hiding in there. His back was to you when he flicked away the cigarette absently and stared up at the two guys. The ribald expressions drained from their faces before they began pushing one another as to who will get back inside first. The heavy door closed behind them with a loud thud.
The man turned around and took a good look at your eyes.
"I saw you in there," he said after a while. His voice was quiet but dark enough to give you goosebumps.
"I saw you too," you said weakly. The stranger took off his jacket and offered it to you. "You don't need to—"
"Take it," he insisted, not unkindly. You thanked him and slipped on the warm jacket that smelled of heavenly perfume and a little bit of cigarette smoke.
"Do you need a ride?" asked the stranger and glanced over his shoulder at the door.
You nodded a little. "Yeah, okay." The reason in you told you not to go with him but you decided to trust your instincts. Everything about him drew you to him like a magnet, and little did you know that he felt the same way about you since the moment he saw you dancing in the club.
"What's your name?" asked the stranger as he opened his car door for you. He was leaning his arm against the frame when you froze, the two of you only inches apart.
"It's Y/N," you breathed, unable to keep your eyes from glancing at his lips. He nodded weakly and gave you his name.
Yoongi asked where you wanted to go once you were out on the road.
"Home," you said quietly as you watched the flickering lights of the city pass by.
"Where's that?" asked Yoongi, one of his hands on the steering wheel when he turned to you.
"I don't know where you live," you found yourself saying as you looked at him. Yoongi's lips parted slightly, his pitch black eyes studying you. He looked back at the road and made a turn at the next crossroads.
You followed Yoongi up an alarmingly tall apartment building where his place was at the very top. Yoongi let you in first after he unlocked the door. He turned on some lights as you took off your heels. He was right behind you. One of his hands slowly made its way around your waist whilst he moved your soft hair to one side of your neck with the other. Yoongi kissed your hot skin as you closed your eyes and let him. Your hand went over his that was resting on your waist, your fingers locking with his. You never imagined a stranger's touch could feel so good.
You turned around and caressed Yoongi's cheek, leading him down to your height. You kissed him slowly at first, but his grip securing on your hips encouraged you to deepen the kiss. His hands moved down to your bum and thighs where his fingers dug into your soft skin. He picked you up and sat you on the large end table Yoongi stepped between your legs that wrapped around his waist. Your back arched as you didn't want to break the kiss. A hint of cigarette smoke lingered on his tongue but you didn't mind, not that night. All you wanted was for him to touch you.
Yoongi's hands caressed your thighs before one of them rose beneath your skirt. You gasped when two of his fingers caressed the wet crease in your lacy underwear. Yoongi's eyes opened and found yours. He couldn't believe how wet you were and how hard that made him. Yoongi kissed you deeply, his lips returning to you over and over again for short, hungry kisses. Another one of your gasps filled Yoongi's mouth when his fingers began stroking your sweet spot. The fingers of one of your hands balled around the hem of his shirt whilst the other was tangled in Yoongi's dark hair.
You could feel how hard he was when Yoongi took his hand away and pulled your hips closer. He picked you up and carried you to his bedroom, knowing his way around the dark apartment. Yoongi laid you down on his soft bed before he got up and took off his shirt.
"Help me," you whispered breathlessly as you got to your knees and turned around and pulled your hair aside. Yoongi unzipped your black dress, revealing the lacy back of your matching bra. He pulled the dress off your shoulders and kissed your there, leaving small bites along your soft, perfumed skin. You laid back down and let him pull off your dress completely.
Yoongi was watching you lie on his bed in nothing but your underwear, letting his imagination run wild. Your cheeks flushed pink under his gaze but it was too dark for him to notice. He knew, though, the moonlight was enough.
He took off his pants and grabbed a condom from one of the drawers of his nightstand. His hands were almost shaking with impatience.
Yoongi tasted the moan in your mouth when he entered you. Your nails dug into his back in pleasure as he began moving his hips. You wrapped your legs around his waist, closing in what little space there was left between your bodies. Every thought but one disappeared from your mind - nothing else mattered but the two of you in that moment.
You began to stroke yourself. You didn't think you would feel like it but everything felt so good so you wanted to try.
"Let me do it," said Yoongi, his voice almost a growl. He grabbed a pillow and placed it beneath your hips and replaced your hand with his. He continued thrusting with the same rhythm that made you feel so good but now his fingers were caressing you as well. A loud moan rose from deep within your throat as your hands balled around the bed covers. Your eyes watered from the pleasure you were receiving. Yoongi's eyebrows furrowed into a frown as he watched you take him and come closer and closer.
"Fuck, please don't stop," you begged. Your back arched and your toes curled in pleasure as you felt the release all over your body. Yoongi came just after you, his member pulsating deep inside of you. He didn't pull out right away but leaned down to you and kissed you again. You wrapped around arms lazily around his neck and pulled him closer, your kisses showing him how good he made you feel.
***
You woke up late in the morning, not being able to remember the last time you had such a good night's sleep. You sat up in the unfamiliar bed wearing a hoodie far too large for your frame, the memories of last night coming back to you. Your neck and cheeks flushed red and your skin began to tingle as you fell back into the soft bed and savored the flashbacks. Something was moving in the hallway, a pair of quiet footsteps. Your eyes flashed open as you sat back up. The footsteps left again.
You found your underwear scatted on the bedroom floor and slipped it on quickly along with your dress. You were still holding the cozy hoodie in your arms when you made your way down the hallway and found Yoongi sitting at the kitchen counter. There was a laptop opened in front of him and a coffee in his hand. He rubbed his eyes when he felt your gaze on him and turned to you.
"Hi," you said with a small smile but didn't feel any less awkward.
Yoongi closed the laptop behind him and stood up. "Hi," he exhaled as thoughts stormed behind his eyes. There was a look on his face that you could not read.
"Do you want some coffee?" he offered.
"Sure," you nodded and came closer as he grabbed a cup for you. You placed Yoongi's hoodie on the counter by his laptop. His eyes flickered to it before they returned to you face as he handed you the coffee.
"Thanks," you accepted the drink gratefully, just the scent of it giving you goosebumps.
"Are you okay?" Yoongi asked out of nowhere, catching you off guard.
"Me?" you blurted as you looked up at his dark eyes. He nodded a little. You wondered what he was thinking; you wanted to know so bad but there was no way of telling.
"I'm okay," you nodded before the two of you sat down at the counter together. "Why?" you almost whispered. Yoongi was watching your every move, every breath that you took that made your chest rise and lips part, your fingers tapping nervously against the white cup, the lashes surrounding your beautiful eyes that were looking at him in turn.
You didn't know it then but Yoongi read people for a living and that's why you couldn't read him.
"You've never done this before," said Yoongi. His voice was quiet and smooth but it made you feel almost as if it stripped you naked and not in a good way.
You licked your dry lips as your stomach twisted into painful, anxious knots. He hurt your pride, though, and that hurt even worse. "If you didn't enjoy it, why didn't you just ask me to leave?" you said, almost snapping because no matter how hard you tried not to care, you did.
Yoongi's expression went blank for a moment before he realized what you thought he was insinuating and a smile broke on his lips. "I enjoyed it, that's not what I was saying," he looked down and remembered every second of it. He enjoyed it, he enjoyed it too much - enough to make him want to keep you there forever.
For some reason, Yoongi's genuine reaction made your cheeks even redder but it also made you feel more comfortable, especially now that your pride has been restored and even swelled. His smile was warm and honest unlike the formidable frown you saw him wearing last night at the club. Although in all honesty, you doubted that those guys would have just turned around and left you alone if he hadn't.
"I was just wondering why did you do it?" explained Yoongi. You licked your lips again and looked down at your coffee. You shook your head a little as everything came back to you.
"My best friend decided to cut me out of her life and I wanted to forget about everything," you told the truth when you looked up at Yoongi. As he watched you, he wondered if you had been as close to your friend as he was to his brothers. Even if you weren't, he understood.
"Listen, I ... I was wondering if you could still take me home," you asked slowly and remembered what you said last night. "To my place, I mean ... If it's not too big an inconvenience."
"I'll take you," said Yoongi. "I'll need to know where to pick you up for dinner tonight."
Hoseok
You were dancing with your friends when your eyes locked with a gorgeous man sitting in the VIP section. He was having a drink alone until the security guard let a young man pass into his section. He seemed more like a school boy rather than an adult. The handsome stranger kept his eyes on you a moment longer before he turned to the kid and you found yourself blushing. You turned to your friends and tried not to think about him although it was easier said than done. When you turned around, however, the stranger was no longer there. You frowned a little but figured he was way out of your league anyways and continued dancing.
The club became more crowded by the hour. You pushed your way through the dancing crowd to the bar.
"Can I get a bottle of water, please?" you shouted at the barman over the loud music. He nodded absently, swaying to the rhythm of the music. As you looked across the packed club, you knew it was your time to leave.
"What are we drinking?" asked a smooth voice beside you. You turned and came face to face with the handsome guy from the VIP section.
"It's you," you blurted unintentionally although the loud music hid your surprise a little. The man had a smile on his lips that made your tummy swirl with butterflies.
"Here you go," said the bartender as he sat your bottle of water on the bar. His eyes went to the stranger beside you whilst you thanked him.
"Mr Jung, the usual?" asked the bartender. He stayed still this time and paid attention, no longer dancing to the music and taking orders absently.
You looked at the man beside you. He was smiling still as his eyes shifted between your water and back to your eyes.
"Do you want to have a drink with me?" he asked politely. You stared at him conflicted.
"I ... I was just about to leave," you confessed although the offer was more than tempting. Jung leaned down closer to you, his perfume giving you goosebumps, and you repeated what you said.
"You're not having a good time?" he asked, his eyes taking in every feature of your face.
"No, I did," you said quickly. "But there's too many people now."
"Somewhere quiet then?" asked Jung, his face only inches away from yours. You couldn't help but glance at his beautiful lips and bit yours. Your heart was beating against your throat with excitement.
You nodded.
Before you knew it, you were in a beautiful penthouse apartment sitting on a soft sofa whilst the man, who you learned was Jung Hoseok, opened a bottle of wine. For a moment, you thought that you were in a dream. You were a little tipsy from the club but only so much that you didn't worry about the little things and not enough that it would keep you from feeling slightly nervous.
You had a sip of wine.
"You okay?" asked Hoseok, now sitting beside you as you faced one another. "Want me to take you home?"
"No, I'm okay," you said truthfully. You had never done this before and in your imagination - based on what your friends told you - it was anything but this. The wine, the beautiful apartment, the gorgeous man who made even the most confident parts of yourself feel self-conscious. You imagined it would be in the back of a car somewhere with both you and the random guy you danced with drunk out of your minds.
"I saw the way you danced," said Hoseok, one of his arms outstretched towards you over the back of the sofa, nearly touching your hair.
You blushed and laughed a little. "I can't dance," you shook your head and placed down your glass. Hoseok did the same.
"I beg to differ," said Hoseok, his voice deep and quiet enough to make your heart skip a beat. Your lips parted as you sat only inches apart. Hoseok glanced at your lips before his gaze returned to your eyes. Your butterflies turned into fireworks.
You scooted even closer and caressed his cheek before your lips melted into a soft but passionate kiss. Hoseok's hand slip up your thigh and to your waist where his fingers dug into your soft skin. You couldn't suppress a small moan as he pulled you into his lap and deepened the kiss. Hoseok's hand moved from your knee, beneath your skirt and up your thigh.
You pulled away from the kiss breathlessly. "I've never done this before," you confessed, hoping that he won't change his mind.
"It's okay," murmured Hoseok against your lips, his eyes closed.
"No, not just the one-night stand," you said quietly but responded to his kiss. "I've never ..." You shook your head a little. Hoseok's eyes opened. You couldn't tell what it was that you saw; there was desire and disbelief and something else that you couldn't point out.
"I want to do it," you asserted before Hoseok could even ask. Your fingers were tangled in his hair. "If you're okay with it," you licked your lips, feeling his hot breath on your skin. Hoseok didn't have to say anything - his eyes spoke for him. He found your lips again. His hands slid beneath your thighs as he picked you up and carried you to his bedroom.
Hoseok pulled off his shirt immediately before he helped you out of your dress. He was sitting on the edge of the bed with you between his legs as he took off your clothes and his dark gaze worshiped your body. His mouth was parted, a small shadow of a smirk hiding in the corner of his lips as he looked up at you. Your skin was prickling with fever when you pushed your hair on the side of your neck and kissed him. Hoseok pulled you down to his lap so that you were sitting on one of his thighs with your arms wrapped around his neck. His lips guided your kiss expertly. For a moment, you felt self-conscious about your lack of experience compared to him, but his touch made you forget about everything. One of his arms was locked around your waist whilst the other roamed up your thigh. Hoseok's fingers found their way beneath the hem of your underwear as he squeezed your bum tightly, making you moan against his lips. Hoseok took his hand back and traced the hemline of your waist until he reached the front but he never broke the deep kiss. His long fingers caressed over the fabric of your underwear and slid down to your pussy. His middle and ring finger grazed through your crease, finding the fabric completely soaked through. You gasped at his gentle but confident touch, your pussy throbbing beneath his fingers.
Hoseok pulled away from the kiss and opened his eyes, a soft grin in the corner of his lips when he saw how needy you were. Your glossy eyes begged him not to tease you and he obliged. Hoseok kissed you again, more hungrily now as the fingers of his one hand dug into the soft flesh of your waist and of the other pushed your underwear aside and caressing you skin to skin. You whimpered when his thumb found your clit and drew circles against it whilst he stroked the rest of you with his two long fingers. Hoseok didn't even have to slide his fingers inside of you to make you come because you were already gasping and moaning against his neck. He decided to push you a little further and dipped his fingers inside of you. Another whimper filled your mouth, followed by a series of cries as you reached another climax and your thighs began to quiver.
"That's it," groaned Hoseok quietly against your ear as he let you rest against his neck. "Look how well you did." He wrapped both of his arms around you and held you close. If he hadn't already been rock hard from seeing your body and touching you, the look of drunken pleasure on your face would have done it for him.
Hoseok left small, tender kisses down your neck. "You smell so nice," he murmured when he felt your fingers run through the hair on the back of his head. You moved your lips to his shoulder and kissed him, slowly reaching up his neck and jaw until you found his lips. He tasted and felt so good that you never wanted to break the kiss and for a while longer your wish would be granted.
Hoseok took off his trousers and found a condom whilst you pulled off your underwear. His eyes watched you as you did so, another rush of desire shooting through him.
"Come here," muttered Hoseok as he climbed on top of you and pulled you closer. He found your lips again, kissing you and kissing you until you were breathless and reaching for him. A whimper-like moan escaped your mouth when he entered you slowly, his hand holding down one of your wrists. You frowned in pleasure as your fingers dug into the small of his back. Hoseok was watching you, checking on you although there was no need. You only wanted more.
Hoseok moved his hips, entering you deeper and deeper. You winced from sensitivity and pleasure whenever he touched your clit. You went to touch yourself but Hoseok took your wrists and pinned them beside your head as he stopped thrusting his hips. You opened your pleasure-drunk eyes and saw him watching you with an amused look in his dark irises.
"Not yet," he said to you and let go of your wrists as he almost sat up. He took in the sight of your body - little silvers of your come on your stomach where he traced his fingers, your breasts and nipples perfect to touch and kiss and stroke, but most of all the dreamy look in your eyes.
"Look at you ..." Hoseok said to himself. "How pretty you are for me, little kitten," he murmured as he came back down and gave you a kiss different from the others.
Hoseok began moving his hips again, this time his pace faster and his length entering you fully. Your mouth was full of soft moans as you inched closer again. Hoseok reached down and caressed your little sweet spot, making your thighs quiver in matter of seconds. Even as you came again, Hoseok didn't slow down but picked up his pace instead. His fingers were soaked with your come when he locked them with yours, his other hand propped against the bed when he came as well. He squeezed your hand tightly before he released it. Hoseok leaned his forehead against yours, his chest heaving as you felt him throb deep inside of you. Your legs were wrapped around his hips even after he was done and he was in no hurry of pulling out.
***
Come morning, a small moan caught in your throat as you turned in the soft bed and buried your face into the soft pillow. You stretched your sore legs before you blinked slowly and adjusted to the morning light. It took you a moment to remember last night, and when you did, your face was flushed and your eyes grew wide open. Your heart was pumping hard in your chest when you sat up and looked around the spacious bedroom. The mattress beside you was empty but you could hear little noises coming from the rest of the apartment.
You got out of bed and tiptoed around the carpet as you collected your underwear and your dress. The bathroom door was cracked open and you slipped inside. You got dressed and washed your face, holding a hand of cool water against the back of your neck as you struggled to clear your head of the memories of last night. Your insides were tingling with butterflies just at the thought of Hoseok touching your body - you didn't even know how you would look him in the eye later. Perhaps you wouldn't even have to, you thought, remembering all the stories your friends told you about horrible one-night stands. Your heart sunk a little at the idea, but on the other hand, you couldn't expect much else from this.
You brushed your hair with your fingers as you made your way down the hallway, following the sounds that were coming from the kitchen.
Jung Hoseok was standing behind the kitchen isle, a neat wooden tray sitting on top of it. There was a croissant, a bowl of mixed berries, a glass of orange juice and he had just placed a cup of coffee on there as well. His sharp eyebrows were arched in a frown and his lips were parted slightly. He wore a classic white shirt and a pair of elegant black trousers with a metallic watch glimmering on his wrist. Hoseok's dark eyes looked up at you suddenly when he felt someone watching him.
"Good morning," he spoke, his formidable frown replaced immediately with a warm smile like sunshine breaking through a storm. You blushed.
"Hi," you greeted as you fixed the thin strap of your dress and came a little bit closer. "Should I ..." you asked carefully, gesturing in the direction of the exit if you remembered correctly from last night.
Hoseok frowned a little. "You don't have to leave yet," he said, his eyes glancing down at your exposed shoulders. "I made you breakfast."
"It's for me?" you asked, the corners of your eyebrows curved downwards when you looked at the beautiful tray.
"Of course," smiled Hoseok. "Sit down." As he made his way past you, his hand touched your waist and his lips kissed your cheek.
"I'll be right back."
His touch left tingles on your skin as you watched him disappear down the hallway before you sat down at the kitchen isle. The fresh smell of berries and the crisp scent of the pastry invited you. You took the coffee first, however, and took a sip before you wrapped your cold hands around the warm porcelain.
"Here," said Hoseok when he appeared beside you. He handed you a soft black hoodie and you looked up at him surprised. There were goosebumps on your arms and the morning was much colder than the hot night when you were dancing in the club.
"How did you sleep?" asked Hoseok with a smile as he grabbed his own cup of coffee and sat down beside you after you pulled on his hoodie and melted into its softness.
"Great, thank you," you nodded and stole a few berries from the neat white bowl. You were about to ask him the same but he spoke first.
"How are you feeling?" Hoseok smile faded a little as a soft frown gathered on his handsome face. You stopped chewing for a moment, taken back by the question, and your cheeks grew pink.
"I'm okay," you said more quietly now and focused on your coffee cup.
"Are you sure?" asked Hoseok. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest as he took in every little detail of your beautiful face. He kept thinking how he should have been gentler and how he should have asked you more if you were okay. Hoseok was well aware that you were practically strangers but there was something that drew him to you, that made him want to protect you and take care of you at any cost.
Hoseok tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The gentle gesture made you look up into his warm, dark eyes.
"Yeah," you nodded. "I'm great, it was great."
Hoseok studied your features a moment longer but you were telling the truth. In fact, your words were an understatement about how you felt about last night.
You bit your lip as you couldn't help but glance at Hoseok's lips, wondering what it would be like to have him kiss you again. But you knew it was just a one time thing and that you were done now.
You looked away but Hoseok saw everything and it made his heart skip a beat.
"Have dinner with me tonight?" he asked out of nowhere, the question sounding more as a statement. Your gaze shot up at him.
"What?" you almost stuttered.
"Have dinner with me tonight," Hoseok spoke again; this time there was no room for question.
"But ... you barely know me," you shook your head a little although the thought of it awoke every last butterfly in your body.
"I'll get to know you," said Hoseok quietly as a small smile grew on his features and he leaned in closer. Your eyes fell to his beautiful lips and a sharp breath caught in the back of your throat.
"Okay," you nodded weakly when you saw Hoseok's gaze shift from your eyes to your lips.
"Good." Hoseok closed the space between you as his lips found yours, making your tummy explode with fireworks.
373 notes · View notes
abloomingperiod · 1 year ago
Text
nice. | i definitely know what casual means (part 1); jung hoseok
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total word count: 9.5k-ish
warnings: none but hobi is kind of a menace so brace yourselves
note 1: this is the firsssstttt chapter i'm so excited omgggg 💖💖💖 i hope whoever reads it like it! ngl i'm A Litlle nervous since it's my first one that's not 1 chapter long but also very VERY excited akjskjkjjks
note 2: if by any chance anyone feels like commenting on it or leaving questions PLEASE DO i would love to know your thoughts. enjoy it!
note 3: yes, picture jitb listening party hobi in this one 💖
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"i disagree."
"yah, of course you do!" your friend daisy complains, following with a fake surprise at your words, "i'm shocked. please, care to explain."
you stare at her incredulously. not because your friend of 6 years is annoyed at you. that was just like any other noisy, alcohol-filled friday between you two. what makes you shoot your eyebrows up is what she wants you to explain. right in front of your other friends and their acquaintances.
you silently ask her to stop with your warning eyes, but just like always, daisy doesn't really seem to get the memo. so you opt for vague, quick answer.
"i don't think casual relationships suck. i just think men suck at it."
there. you gave it a try. there's your answer. she's gonna shut up now-
"elaborate."
"daisy."
"what? it's an interesting take, don't get all quiet now."
you sigh.
here goes nothing.
"i just think men don't really get the concept of casual right and that's what kills it."
she blinks once, and twice, seemingly deep in thought, "...huh."
"and i think they see it as a form of being detached from any sort of commitment or empathy to the other person. they think only a serious relationship requires that, because they're dense and they're dumb and they don't see it as a two-sided situation. they don't think about the other side, and when the woman gets annoyed because, well, she's not really enjoying it or getting what she wants, and goes up to them, they get all 'woah you're getting way too attached that's not what this is'... they don't think they need to treat the woman right, because to them, caring about the woman's experience is a favor, and not something they want to do so, and that's why when the woman pulls out, they go to their buddies that are just as stupid as them and brag about the bitch who got attached and how women are too sensitive. they just don't get it. because they're stupid and superficial and they don't really like women."
silence. definite and instant silence.
you regret opening your mouth.
just as your mind told you before you left your apartment, you should've stayed at home, where your biased mouth wouldn't go on and on about past regrets and frustrations-
"damn, who bad laid you?" daisy's new girlfriend, sunmi, asks with a chuckle, and when the rest of you join, everything seems easier again, and your shoulders release from the tense grip your anxiety quickly held at you.
damn, that one was close.
except for one person, who seems to ponder as their eyes study your face, eyes squinting and lips slightly curving as your answer reach their ears,
"doesn't really matter, 'cause i definitely know what casual means", sarcasm dripping bitterly from your words.
the subjects changes, and that one person keeps staring at you every now and then, and you question whether he's judging, studying or straight up staring at you.
you don't know what has gotten into daisy's friend, hoseok, today. but he's definitely quieter than usual. waves and waves of high-pitched laughter long stored in the back of your mind, making space for a sudden quietness and a curious gaze.
you wonder if he has any objection for your words - which would, honestly, be a disappointment.
hoseok, from what you've seen, reads an interesting and easy going person, with a laughter so captivating that's capable of making others laugh until their stomach hurts without even knowing if there was ever a joke to start.
not that fun people don't have shitty opinions, but you oh so hope hoseok is not the case.
why, though? who knows.
probably him, by this point, because now you're staring back for what feels like a good minute.
god, you really lost your social skills.
"bathroom", you say to the table before getting up. it doesn't really phase anyone - is what you think is the case.
that is until you finish washing your hands, quickly shaking your head with a few "just fucking chill" leaving your mouth in whispers. as you turn around the corner that separates the rest of the bar from the bathroom, your eyes meet hoseok's, closer than you've ever been to one another.
you're two feet away from him, and you're sure the hot air touching your chin is coming from his slightly open heart-shaped mouth.
"hi", he sighs. was that tension in his tone?
"hey", that was definitely tension in yours, you note. you clear your throat, "is everything okay?"
"yeah, sure" he responds, "just... i'm sorry if that had anything to do with any experience of yours. felt like it did."
"oh." is the only thing that leaves your mouth, contrasting to the reasons for it. why is he saying sorry? why does he think he has anything to do with it? why is he so damn close? why do i find his words... nice?
say something, dammit.
"s'okay. it did, to be honest, but i already had my mind made up about it way before. s'fine."
he just nods at you, and your nice-filled thoughts return to tensioned ones when you realize he's waiting for more. what the hell?
"...i'm not talking about it."
"oh-oh right, right, of course! i'm sorry, i didn't wanna be invasive, sorry-"
"it's fine! don't worry, i definitely talked a lot about it on the table and-"
"no but even so what do i have to do with this- not that i wouldn't hear about it-"
at this point, you're barely letting each other finish your lame excuses for your lame anxieties, and it just turned into a mumbling and rambling festival, until both of you are curling your lips upwards like two dumbasses.
there you go. this too, feels nice.
nice...
yeah, that's definitely it.
you both chuckle, and when you look at the ground and lightly balance on your feet, you catch hoseok wrinkling his nose with a smile.
...nice?
yeah, that's a nice smile.
"well... i don't mean to chime in, especially after that. but..." you return your gaze up and he's still looking at your face, "i agree with you."
...huh.
"okay...?" you respond looking to your side, and nice turns into weirdness.
it was never typical of you to blindly trust men and their lightweight words. but after that one special occasion that you're pretty sure everybody back on the table is already speculating on or searching for instagram profiles back and forth, every hint of lies, manipulation or even interest coming from them annoys you to your guts.
your hurt, grudged and healing guts.
and you think he notices.
"i'm not trying to have my way with you."
oh.
oh?
"i didn't think you were" oh, but you did.
because they always do. and this is not in any way, shape or form, you bragging over attention from men. in reality, you've been despising it since everything happened merely a year ago.
they come, and they go, and all that stays is lies and hurt.
and yes, you did.
"yes, you did." his face turned serious just like it was back at the table.
you scoff, because now he's just being full of himself, "well, i'm sorry to pop your bubble but i definitely did not."
"popping my bubble?" he repeats your words with a smug scoff. god, is he enjoying this debauchery? "oh, honey, you're not popping anything."
your eyes couldn't get more narrowed at that, because now you feel like taking back every nice words you had about him. where did nice go? definitely far, far away. "oh but i'm this close to popping your nose open with my fist."
he sighs and softens his face. and as he looks both sides as if he's trying and seeing if any recognisable face is close to whatever this... thing is, you can't help but notice his perfectly curved nose. damn, it would be a shame to pop a bridge like that.
"sorry. that was not my point." he shakes his head slightly, "i'm sorry you went through that. we don't really know each other that well yet, so i didn't know about it, but it seemed... tough. you seemed kinda taken aback out there, which i don't blame you..."
you grin at his words. "she can be a menace."
"she can", he agrees, "but it's not out of malice. she's just..."
"...dense."
"yeah."
you both nod and grin at each other. he also knows her for years now and has definitely felt in his skin what daisy and her curiosity can do at the wrong place and the wrong time.
which is nice. hoseok seems to get where you and your shot up eyebrows back at the table came from.
which is probably why your shoulders relax, your arms hold each other on your back and you fidget back and forth on your feet now.
nice.
"anyways", hoseok says on a higher tone, "we should head back."
"we should", you agree. "but didn't you want to go to the bathroom?"
"me? no. i just came for you."
oh.
"right..."
"'cause i wanted to have my way with you."
"hoseok."
"i'm just fucking with you." his smirk comes back to his face and you accelerate every thought that goes through your mind about that, externalizing it with a loud scoff at his words that seemed way louder than a legit scoff should sound. you don't know if he notices it, but you do know his stupid smirk feels hot where it lands on your face.
so, with the dumbest come back you could grab from your lame collection, you retort.
"you wish!" you say to his back, as he's already making his way back to the gathering.
but then he turns around one more time, and as his teeth slowly lose their grip on his lower lip, he plain and simply retorts with amusement plastered on his lips and a seemingly darker tone on his eyes,
"and what if i do."
and your words fucking disappear from your throat. just like he disappears around the corner.
if only the sudden heat that rose up to your cheeks did the same.
and at this exact moment, you realize jung hoseok annoys the living shit out of you.
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