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xjoonchildx · 2 months

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kanalia | jhs x reader | final chapter: because i couldn't stay away

banner by the amazing @kth1 💕

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

⚜️pairing: queen!reader x royalguard!hoseok

⚜️rating: mature, 18+

⚜️genre: royal AU, historical AU, smut

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

⚜️word count: 10.2K

⚜️author's note: happy birthday month to my forever muse, jung hoseok. i hope that i did this poor, tortured version of you some justice. and yes, it did take me years to finish this story (😭) , but i did. thank you to every single who has ever taken an interest in this story and cared enough to stick with me through long delays and rough writing spells. once again, i have to shout out the OG @hobi-gif who lent her eyes to part of this story. i appreciate you all so much and if you enjoyed it, i would very much appreciate a reblog as well as your feedback.

thank you guys so, so much 💕

previous chapter masterlist

Love doesn't discriminate Between the sinners and the saints It takes and it takes and it takes And we keep loving anyway We laugh and we cry and we break And we make our mistakes And if there's a reason I'm by her side When so many have tried Then I'm willing to wait for it I'm willing to wait for it

– “Wait for It”

Hamilton, An American Musical

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

One perfect loop is followed by another. And another. And another.

You need not look back and check your work, not anymore. Now you know simply by the pull of the thread that each stitch you place is snug and uniform. You sit in your chair by the fire and repeat the motion over and over again, staring unseeing into the pattern in your lap.

“It’s a beautiful day, Your Grace.”

Hyeri’s voice taps at the edges of your consciousness, muffled as though she’s standing outside the chamber door instead of seated right beside you. You ignore it and push another loop through the fabric.

“Not a cloud in the sky,” she persists, gentle. “Perfect conditions for a walk, if you feel up to it. I could even accompany you, if you wish?”

There was a time, not long ago, when Hyeri’s prodding would have set your teeth on edge. But you do not have the energy to muster any such emotion. And so you give Hyeri the same answer you’d given her the day before. And the day before that one. The same hushed words, spoken in the same decisive tone.

“I’m content to stay in today, Hyeri. Thank you.”

“Very well, Your Grace.”

She drops the matter with a quiet sigh.

It’s unlike her. The Hyeri you know would fret and fuss for as long as it took for you to relent; until you had no choice but to quit your chamber simply to enjoy a moment’s peace. The Hyeri you know would be shooing you away from the fire, prattling on about how one errant thread could catch and send your entire dress up in flames.

But the Hyeri seated beside you does none of those things.

So you sink deeper into the plush chair perched in front of the hearth and watch the flames dance. The embers at the base of the fire glow deep red, putting off a heat blistering enough to scorch your bare feet.

But you cannot feel it. You cannot feel anything.

You’ve surrendered to the weariness now; let it consume you. Allowed it to fuse itself to the very marrow of your bones. For days you’ve done little beyond sleep and spend your few waking hours seated by the fire, needle in hand.

Twice you’ve left your chamber and neither time by choice, but rather because the King had insisted on your presence at dinner. To what end you still cannot be sure seeing as you’d taken both meals in stilted, awkward silence. Apparently His Grace is far less bold without a bit of ale in him.

“The hunting party leaves in three days' time,” Hyeri says. “There’s been quite a fuss in the kitchens over it. They’re taking enough supplies to travel for months, by the looks of it.”

You make a non-committal sound under your breath. Hyeri forges on, undeterred.

“There will be a send-off in the courtyard, of course. Will you – “ she pauses to choose her words carefully. “ – Well, I assume that you’ll want to see the King off.”

You do not want to see the King off. Were it not for his pigheaded adamance that you keep up appearances for the sake of this sham marriage, you’d be content to never see him again. But you’ll not tell Hyeri that. Not when she’s made it clear where her loyalties lie and not when she still holds on to the delusion that one day you’ll decide to embrace your role as the placeholder by the King’s side.

So you say nothing at all. The fire pops as one of the logs crumbles in the hearth.

Hyeri clears her throat. “Your Grace, I only want what’s best for you. Surely you know that by now? And I don’t want people casting aspersions, which they most certainly will do if you’re not there to see the King off. The staff is already asking questions about why you’ve not been seen in days.”

“Has he asked for me?”

Hyeri blinks. “The King?”

“Yes, Hyeri,” you say slowly. “The King. Has His Grace requested my presence at this send-off ceremony?”

The color seems to drain from her soft face as she admits, “No, Your Grace. He hasn’t.”

“Then I see no point in worrying yourself over the matter.”

You return your attention to your needlework and place another yellow thread in the center of your Mugunghwa flower’s pistil. The flames crackle in perfect, undisturbed silence.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

“It’s cold out there today,” Hyeri says. “But if you bundle up tight, it’s quite pleasant in the sunshine.”

“Thank you, Hyeri,” you reply evenly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

It’s a lie, and you both know it. You have no intention of leaving this chamber today and much to your relief, the King did not require your presence at his evening meal the night prior. Hyeri had ordered your dinner sent up and then proceeded to dine with you herself. An insidious voice inside your mind whispers she’s afraid to leave you alone.

You ignore it.

Instead you try to focus on your Mugunghwa flower. You study it, blinking until the riot of colors before you has clear, defined boundaries – fiery crimson at the center which slowly bleeds into a subdued pink which in turn dissipates into a milky white. You pull fresh white thread through your needle and set to work on the flower’s edges.

“Your needlework is much improved, Your Grace,” Hyeri notes. “You’ll be finished with that pattern by the end of the day, as I see it.”

You thumb over the fabric and consider her assessment. She’s right, you’ll be done with this pattern in a matter of hours. And the only thing that awaits on the other side is another pattern. And another. On and on and on.

“Perhaps when you’re done, you’ll consider mending this for me,” Hyeri says, gesturing towards her lap. “My eyesight is not what it used to be. I’m terrified of ruining the old man’s beautiful design.”

You set your embroidery down and turn to look at Hyeri, gaze falling to the opulent plum fabric in her hands. Slowly, the details sharpen into focus. The rich velvet trim. The gold threads glinting back at you in the firelight. The room begins to tilt.

“A footman found it in the woods last night,” Hyeri explains, her cadence slow and deliberate. “By the stables.”

You are keenly aware of the way she watches you in the weighty seconds that follow, one gray eyebrow lifted as she awaits a response. You do your best to appear calm despite the panic clawing its way up your throat.

You’d lost that shawl in your mad dash back to the castle. You’d been tearing through the dark, paying little heed to the branches that tugged at your dress and occasionally scraped at your hands and face. One of them had caught the shawl, but you’d been so desperate to reach the refuge of your chamber that you’d hardly noticed when it was wrenched away. You’d had, after all, your humiliation to keep you warm.

And you’d earned it, hadn’t you? With your drunkenness. With your recklessness. You’d let every one of your baser emotions take control. You’d risked every advantage of your carefully curated life just to throw yourself like a wanton at the feet of one of your husband’s closest confidantes. Like a fool.

When Lord Jung turned on his heels that night and abandoned you in the woods, he’d done far more than just rebuff your clumsy advances.

He’d finished you.

“Your Grace?” Hyeri’s curiosity is evident. “Are you alright?”

Hardly. Your mouth waters as your stomach threatens to cast up what little you’ve eaten today. One glimpse of that garment had been enough to bring a torrent of memories rushing back; vivid, awful memories that you’ve worked hard to banish to the deepest recesses of your mind. You grip the arm of your chair hard enough to make your knuckles go white.

“Your Grace?”

You don’t answer until you’re sure that you won’t retch the very moment you open your mouth. Hyeri studies you in the interminable silence, lips parted in an expression of concern. Your tongue is thick when you finally collect yourself enough to speak.

“Please do thank the footman for me, Hyeri. And I think it best to leave the more intricate needlework to you.”

Hyeri stares as you reach for your needle and thread with trembling hands, but you don’t dare look her way. You try to place a loop at the edge of your flower but the Mugunghwa’s colors have gone blurry again and you’re forced to back the needle out and start over.

Perhaps there was a time when the Mugunghwa was as vivid as a rose. With petals of rich orange-red, opaque from pistil to tip. But perhaps it was asked to weather too many storms. Too many droughts. Too many winters.

Perhaps the Mugunghwa looks the way it does today not because of how it was made, but rather what it’s had to endure.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

The first snow of the season arrives early.

You stand at your window and watch it fall, noting how quickly the fields turn from green to white. You press your fingertips to the windowpane and the cold seeps through it, chilling you instantly.

In the courtyard below, the horses are draped in heavy blankets. Stablehands scurry around them; dusting snow off their muzzles and checking their shoes. Footmen work in teams, sharing the weight of the heavy trunks they load on to waiting carts.

“I’ll wear the blue walking dress today, Hyeri. The one with the white flowers on the bodice.”

“Your Grace?” Hyeri is on her feet at once to join you at the window. “You’ll see the king off, then?”

“I’ll need the matching cape too,” you direct, brushing her question aside as you watch the newly-packed trunks take on a layer of white snow. “If the conditions are as awful as they look.”

“Yes of course,” Hyeri breathes, hurriedly whirling about the chamber behind you as she gathers your things. In a matter of minutes she has you dressed and seated, fingers twisting your hair into a plait at the base of your neck. She loops the plait and pins it into an elegant bun, fingers smoothing the hairs into place before her hands come to rest on your shoulders. She squeezes them gently.

“I’ll not ask you why you’ve changed your mind, Your Grace,” she says softly. “But I’m so glad for it. It’s important that people see you. For them, of course, but for you most of all. And besides, you look so lovely.”

You don’t feel lovely. In fact, you don’t feel anything at all. And if Hyeri had pressed you as to why you’ve changed your mind, she’d not be satisfied with your answer. You’ve changed your mind because you cannot bear to cause more conflict with the King. Because you have no desire to create a scandal that you’ll somehow have to fix. You’ve changed your mind because you have no fight in you left. This is the path of least resistance.

You rise from your seat and Hyeri’s hands fall away. She clutches them to her chest, rheumy eyes soft with sadness as she watches you take your place at the window once again. Outside the snow falls harder, and you watch the footmen leave deep divots in it with their boots.

“Tell me when it’s time,” you say quietly.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

You can scarcely recognize anyone in the throng of well-wishers gathered outside the castle.

They’re all bundled tight in winter coats and pelts; some wear hats and scarves. The snow doesn’t help either, and from the moment you enter the courtyard you’re grateful for your cape. Not only for the warmth of its thick lining, but for its hood, too. It affords you a bit of privacy in this otherwise very public affair.

You weave your way through the crowd and do your best not to make eye contact with anyone. Surely Boram is among those gathered with sweet Yeona in tow, here to see Lord Min off on his adventure. But you cannot bring yourself to seek her out – not when she’s already called on you twice without so much as an explanation for your disappearance. At any rate, you don’t think you could bear to look at her right now. To see the worry and concern you know you’ll find written all over her face.

So you keep your hood pulled tight and your eyes down as you set off in search of the King. And you have no trouble finding him despite your reticence to make your presence known. It’s not just that he stands a head taller than most. It’s in his stature, in his stance – in that self-assured air that seems to come naturally to those born with power. He catches sight of you as he’s speaking to a footman and pauses, gaze locking on yours.

Your legs feel heavy. Your boots sink into the snow as you approach, each step more tiring than the last. When you are finally standing before the King you bow, dipping your head as you peer at him from beneath your hood.

“Your Grace,” he murmurs, lips twitching into a cautious half-smile. “I wasn’t sure you’d come down to say goodbye.”

“And yet I have,” you respond evenly. A snowflake lands on one of his long eyelashes and you resist the urge to reach out and sweep it away. “So I do very much hope that you are pleased.”

“I am pleased.”

The King reaches for your gloved hand. He waits a heartbeat before bringing it to his mouth and pressing a kiss to your leather-clad fingers. Beneath your hood, your cheeks burn. You withdraw your hand quickly and let it fall to your side.

“Well. Then. I wish you a comfortable journey,” you say. “As well as a safe return.”

The two of you stand there for an awkward moment, the King’s expression expectant as though he’s waiting for you to say more. But you have no more to say. The words you’ve already offered him will do. They’re as empty as the vows you’d exchanged little more than a year ago.

“We ought to head out, Your Grace. We’re losing precious daylight and this weather will slow us as it is.”

The voice comes from somewhere in your periphery, but you need not see the man to know exactly who it is. Suddenly each breath you draw is painful, the frigid air pricking your lungs like a thousand tiny needles. You will yourself not to turn towards it, not to react in any way.

“You’re right.” The King acknowledges Lord Jung with a brusque nod. “Have the stablehands check over the horses one more time.”

You won’t look at him. You can’t look at him. Not when the sound of his voice reverberates through every wounded place inside of you. Not when you can close your eyes and still feel the hot trickle of embarrassment that slid down your spine that night in the woods. But then he leaves you with no other choice.

“Your Grace.”

The low timbre of Lord Jung’s greeting makes the fine hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end. You turn to him, slowly, and his dark eyes briefly connect with yours before he bends into a shallow bow. Your knees nearly give way when you return the gesture, along with a subdued, “My Lord.”

What must this man think of you now? What has he told the King? The nausea you’ve managed to stave off for days returns at once.

You startle when a gloved hand wraps around your forearm and the King beckons you to face him. You flick your eyes up to meet his and find that they – along with his countenance – have darkened. By now Lord Jung is yards away, tending to his horse as the hunting party readies to embark. Your lungs ache with each deep pull of cold air.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, no. Not at all,” you insist, contriving a weak laugh. “I’m not accustomed to this kind of cold, is all. I’ll need to go back inside to get warm.”

The King’s brows furrow as he studies you. But you maintain your mild expression until his face relaxes and the disquiet subsides. He leans in to place a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Hyeri assures me you’ll be well taken care of in my absence.”

You lift the corners of your mouth in a gesture that you hope will pass for a smile.

“Thank you, Your Grace. Be well.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Hyeri does not protest when you ask to undress upon your return to the chamber. Nor does she fuss when you climb into bed with the morning sun still high in the sky. She simply presses a soft kiss to your hair, draws the curtains tight and leaves you with a whispered rest well.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Your chamber is dark when you wake but for the soft glow of a fire.

As you come to, so does an ache in your temples, a quiet thud that pulses in time with your heartbeat. Your muscles protest as you roll onto your side to find Hyeri seated at the hearth.

She’s yet to realize that you’ve roused and so you lie there for a while, studying her. She has a strange, far-away look in her eyes as she stares into the flames, her grip tight on a book in her lap. After a few minutes she opens the book and begins to thumb through it and you watch, curious, as she pulls a worn piece of vellum from between its pages.

She unfolds the missive and reads over it, face crumpling as she fights back a sob.

“Hyeri?”

The older woman nearly jumps out of her skin when you call out to her. She hastily folds the vellum and slips it back into her book, smoothing down her dress as she stands at attention. “Your Grace,” she says, voice huskier than usual, “I hadn’t realized you were awake.”

“It’s alright,” you say absently, voice rough with sleep. You steal a look at the book left lying in Hyeri’s chair as she hurries over to bring you some water. Her countenance is that of someone who’s been caught doing something they shouldn’t have. You stare at the glass she offers you, watching the water slosh back and forth.

Is she trembling?

“You ought to eat something,” she admonishes gently, waving a hand towards the food waiting on the table nearby. “You slept through the evening meal. I had my mind made up to wake you if you’d gone much longer, but thankfully I didn’t have to. So come,” she beckons, “Eat something. It will do you some good.”

Your stomach twinges at the mention of food. It’s been in upheaval for days now, and as such it’s been far too long since you had a proper meal. But whatever awaits in the dishes nearby smells enticing enough, so you allow Hyeri to help you out of bed. Your muscles are stiff with disuse and you grimace as you make your way to the table. Your eagle-eyed handmaid takes note.

“A long, hot bath will do you some good, too,” Hyeri remarks as you spoon lukewarm bulgogi onto your plate. You eat slowly as she busies herself with lighting the torches and stripping the linens from your bed. “I’ll have the maids bring up the water after you’ve had a chance to eat.”

You’ve only managed a few bites of the bulgogi before there’s an army of maids filing into the chamber, flitting about the room like a swarm of bees. You watch the entire affair in a daze as the maids make quick work of the tasks set before them: tidying and sweeping the chamber, draping your bed in fresh linens, filling the tub with steaming hot water. And when all the commotion is finally done, Hyeri dismisses them with strict orders not to return unless they are sent for.

You are grateful at once for the silence that immediately falls over the chamber. Even Hyeri leaves you for a while, disappearing into the antechamber to prepare your toilette. But when you glance over at her chair, Hyeri’s book is gone. Along with whatever was written on the vellum inside.

“Come now, Your Grace,” Hyeri says, at last. “I’m ready for you.”

She leads you into the bathing chamber, where the air is humid and sweet. Then she helps you out of your rumpled nightgown and holds out her hand. You accept it, leaning into her as you step over the tub’s steep rim. Slowly you ease yourself down, sucking in a breath as the heat blazes a path up your feet to your legs and thighs. The water is hot almost to the point of pain but you withstand it, sinking until it laps at your shoulders.

“I used rose oil tonight,” Hyeri says, kneeling behind you and cupping your head in her hands. “I thought you could do with a bit of pampering.”

The delicate fragrance envelopes you, carried on the curls of steam that rise just above the water. You breathe in the soft, floral scent and close your eyes; try to clear your mind. Hyeri presses her thumbs to your temples and starts making firm, soothing circles.

“I remember the very first moment I saw you,” Hyeri muses softly. “I’d been so impressed by your poise.” Her hands move to the column of your neck and she kneads at the tight muscles there, pulling the tension from them with each pass. “You were little more than a girl then, but I could still see that you were lovely, inside and out.”

Were you? You’re not sure that you would even recognize the girl that stepped out of that carriage so long ago. You’d been so idealistic – so certain of the comfortable life that you would find here. Of the affluence and status and yes, perhaps, even love that you’d enjoy once you’d ascended to the throne. But that girl had been a nitwit. The woman you are now will never entertain such foolish notions again.

“I know that so much of this has not been easy for you,” Hyeri continues, setting to work on your shoulders. “I know that there have been days when you’ve struggled to put one foot in front of the other. But you have. And that means something.”

It does mean something. It means that your mother’s great work is finally complete. She’d spent her entire life molding you into the polished, empty creature you are today. If only she could see you now; see how biddable and pathetic you’ve become. It would fill her to overflowing with joy.

“Anyhow, when you’ve lived as long as I have you realize that nothing is forever,” Hyeri says thoughtfully. “Same as what you’re going through right now, Your Grace. It won’t be forever.”

Nonsense. Hyeri cannot change the King’s heart. She cannot save you from a lifetime of awkward exchanges and forced smiles simply because she believes things can change. And she cannot will a child into your womb simply by decreeing that it should be so. The swell of emotion that surges inside you is more powerful than anything you’ve felt in days. And it’s anger.

“Hyeri, stop,” you order tersely. “No more.”

Her face falls at that, features going slack with dismay. But she heeds you, holding back whatever she’d meant to say next. Then she reaches for the soap and begins to wash your hair in silence. You chase the beads of oil that float along the surface of the water with a fingertip, cheeks hot with embarrassment. You hadn’t meant to be ugly to Hyeri.

But then you’ve done many things of late that you hadn’t meant to.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“It’s alright, Your Grace. I know you meant no harm by it.” Hyeri dries her hands off and then rises to her feet, looking down at you with a kindness you do not deserve. “I’ll leave you to soak for a bit. You can have a few minutes of peace before I return.”

You’ve been unfair to her, haven’t you? The realization cuts you deep as you watch her retreat from the antechamber. She’s served you in so many ways since your arrival here: as caretaker and as advisor and as confidante. And how have you thanked her? By being cold and distant. By unleashing all the frustration and resentment you feel towards the King on her. And what of the tears you’d seen her hold back while she’d been sitting by the fire? Have you been so mired in your own anguish that you’ve neglected to see hers?

The water has begun to cool and your skin has begun to pebble by the time Hyeri returns.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” she says upon her return, helping you out of the water. “The time got away from me. You must be freezing.”

“Only a little,” you lie, teeth chattering. Hyeri sets to drying you, throwing the damp linens on the floor to catch the rivulets of water that fall from your hair. Her dark eyes dart from your shoulders to your neck to your ears, but they do not meet yours.

“Is something wrong, Hyeri?”

“No, no. Not at all,” she answers quickly, “Just a bit tired.” Her reassurance rings hollow because she keeps her eyes trained on the floor as she bends to reach for the rose oil. When she straightens, you catch her hand with yours, stilling her.

“What were you reading tonight?”

Hyeri’s mouth opens in surprise and then quickly closes.

“I saw you sitting by the fire,” you admit. “You were reading something that looked to upset you.”

“And here I thought you were sleeping,” Hyeri grumbles, taking her hand back. She pours the oil into one palm and then warms it before pressing it to your neck, letting a long moment pass before she speaks.

“It didn’t upset me,” she explains. “Not in a sad way. Those were happy tears, I suppose.” She pours oil into your hands and begins to gently massage it into your fingers. “It was a letter from my Sanghun, back when he’d been courting me so many years ago. You might find this hard to believe, but I wasn’t always the old woman you see now. I had more than my fair share of suitors.”

It’s not hard to believe. Time has been kind to Hyeri. Her features, though soft with age, are still striking. She must have been quite fetching as a young woman.

“What made you choose Sanghun?” you ask.

“I don’t know that I had a choice in the matter at all,” she laughs as she helps you slip into a nightgown. “The moment I saw Sanghun, no other man existed for me. It was him or no one.” Her eyes go soft with a faraway look as she recounts the memory. “The other girls thought him too practical, too serious. But I saw a side of him that no one else saw. A part of him that was just for me.”

“You must miss him,” you say gently.

“Every day,” Hyeri admits. “Ten years he’s been gone and I think of him every day. Those letters remind me of what it’s like to be young and so in love that you’ll not see rhyme or reason. But –” she trails off and waves a hand as if fending off fresh tears. “Never mind that. Come sit.”

It’s unclear which of you she’s sparing from the memory. But as Hyeri begins working her comb through the lengths of your hair, you’re struck by how shortsighted you’ve been. There is suffering in never having the chance to love and be loved, certainly. But there is a different kind of suffering that comes with having that kind of love and then losing it. The thought humbles you.

Hyeri comes to stand behind you and begins working your wet hair into a loose plait.

“I’m sorry, Hyeri,” you say softly, gaze dropping to your hands. “I’m sorry that I haven’t thought to ask you about Sanghun. I haven’t been myself and I’ve just – “

Hyeri silences you with a soft hush. She secures your braid with a piece of linen and then drops to her knees to look her in the eye. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” she says softly, stroking a hand down the side of your face. “Nor do you owe anyone an explanation for feeling the things you feel.”

Her warmth thaws the frozen places inside you. It causes tears to spring to your eyes. And when she takes your hand in hers, you squeeze it gently — hoping that the gesture can convey the feelings you can’t put into words.

“Now put all of that behind you,” she says, smiling through her own unshed tears. “And come sit with me for a while.”

Hyeri leads the way into the chamber and you follow, only to stop short when the hearth comes into view.

When your gaze falls on the silhouetted figure near the fire, you nearly scream. You try to scream. But fear seizes your body, inch by inch – rooting your feet to the floor and closing around your throat like a shackle. You have no choice but stand there, staring in horrified silence as the figure begins to emerge from the shadows. In the span of one frantic heartbeat, the figure has a shape. In the next, it has a face.

And in the next, it has a name.

“H-Hyeri?” you stammer, swaying on your feet as your legs threaten to give way. Your handmaid doesn’t answer and so you call out again, voice quivering. “Hyeri?”

You cannot take your eyes off the man standing before you. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, and so you stare as the firelight flickers over his stark, beautiful features. Shadows dance across his clenched jaw and knit brow. And his eyes – those dark eyes you know so well are fathomless, inscrutable – smoldering coal set in unblemished, unforgiving stone.

“Hyeri!“ you call out to her again, desperate – reluctantly tearing your gaze from the man to look for her. And when your eyes finally land on Hyeri, you find your handmaid standing near the chamber door, hands clasped together tightly. Streaks of color running up the thin skin of her neck and into her soft cheeks.

But she’s not surprised, is she? Not flummoxed in any way by finding Lord Jung lying in wait inside your private rooms. The realization comes over you slowly, wholly, until a strangle tingle runs from your scalp to the tips of your fingers. She’s arranged this, hasn’t she?

“W-What is this?” The words leave you as more air than sound, but they ring out clear enough in the silence of your chamber. Lord Jung and Hyeri exchange a long look, but neither utters a sound.

“Someone speak!” you cry, wincing at the hysteria in your voice.

Hyeri finally clears her throat, her face now fully aflame. “I believe the two of you – “ she pauses, swallowing hard. “Well, I believe the two of you have some things you need to discuss.”

Discuss? You and Lord Jung? Suddenly the panic you feel metastasizes, growing into something much darker. Has he come to admonish you, then? To punish you for your disloyalty? Has he come to lay bare every humiliating detail of that horrible night at the stables for Hyeri to hear?

“No,” you whisper. You do your best to appear composed, despite the way your knees tremble. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Hyeri. I have nothing to discuss with Lord Jung.”

“Yes, you do.” The man in question speaks for the first time, his voice little more than a low rasp. “And we will.”

“No,” you repeat your refusal, shaking your head as though the movement will help sort your jumbled thoughts. “No. You have no right to turn up here and say what I will and will not do. And where did you come from? I saw you leave. I saw you mount your horse and ride off with – “

You stop yourself before you can finish the thought, flushing fiercely at the unspoken mention of the King. Your tedious, disinterested husband would be anything but if he had any inkling of this clandestine encounter.

“I was called back to the castle,” Lord Jung explains evenly. “A palace rider came bearing a missive bidding that I return at once to address an issue at the stables. I was but an hour’s ride away at the time.” Once again, he looks to Hyeri and they exchange another one of those maddening looks.

“But there was no issue at the stables,” you deduce quietly, the pieces falling into place, one by one. “Was there, Hyeri?” Your handmaid seems to shrink beneath the weight of the accusation in your eyes.

“No, Your Grace,” she confesses weakly, “There was not.”

Oh, but your head is truly spinning now – each new revelation more disorienting than the last. How long have these two been conspiring together? What does Hyeri know about what’s transpired between you and Lord Jung? What does he know about the many private things you’ve shared with Hyeri? Both thoughts cause the bile in your stomach to rise.

“You can leave us now, Hyeri,” Lord Jung says. “Thank you.”

Leave you? Has the man lost all good sense? You open your mouth to protest, but when met with the intensity in his glittering dark eyes, words fail you. You just stand there, mouth agape, rendered mute and immobile with shock. You look over at Hyeri, who has fixed her pleading eyes to your wide ones, her expression urging you to comply. And though you cannot make sense of a single thing that you’ve witnessed tonight, you do.

“Very well, My Lord,” she says quietly. “Rest well, Your Grace. The staff rouses at dawn.”

And with that Hyeri takes her leave, the chamber door closing behind her with a heavy thud that echoes the one in your chest.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Once you are alone with Lord Jung, you realize how truly vulnerable you are.

With little more than a thin nightgown to cover you, he can see far more of you than would ever be considered proper. All it would take was one shout from the man to bring the guards running, to compromise you both to the point of expulsion. Perhaps worse.

But the situation is far weightier than that.

You’ve been vulnerable to this man from nearly the first moment you saw him. You’d been weak to his attention and charms. You’d allowed him to see you in ways that no one else has: not Chaehee, not Hyeri and certainly not the King. And the only time in your life that you’d thrown caution to the wind – and acted with abandon, not restraint – he’d mortified you. The memory of that night is a wound that’s just barely begun to heal, and now here Lord Jung stands, poised to pour salt on it.

You’ll not allow him to devastate you again.

“Go on then,” you say, lifting your chin and speaking with feigned bravado. “You’ve gone to great lengths to speak to me, so speak. I assume you’ll enlighten me as to which matter is so pressing that you felt the need to steal into my chamber and risk ruin for us both.”

“I know what I’m risking,” he growls. Then he stops to collect himself, exhaling deeply as he shoves a hand through his hair. “I know what we both stand to lose. But I could not come to you any other way.”

“Why have you come to me at all?” you demand. “You made your feelings quite clear the night of the festival, did you not?” You can no longer contain your bitterness and it drips from your every word. “You should go back to your sovereign, My Lord. Back to your King.”

Lord Jung looks stricken when you use his own words against him. There is a despair in his dark eyes that might have pained you once, but not now. Not anymore.

“You have every right to be angry with me, Your Grace,” he acknowledges. “And if you bid me to leave, then I will do so. But not without telling you the truth. You deserve to hear the truth.”

“Everything here is a lie. Perhaps you, most of all.”

He looks at you for a long moment before turning towards the hearth to gaze into the fire. Orange-red light illuminates his profile, sweeping across his smooth brow, over the elegant slope of his nose and down to his strong jaw. He is still the most beautiful – and most terrible man you’ve ever known.

“The King said he would give her up,” he says woodenly, staring into the flames. “When your marriage was announced, he swore it. And I believed him.”

Every muscle in your body pulls tight.

“I knew that he loved her. We all did. But he vowed that he would respect his father’s wishes and I’ve never known him to be a duplicitous man. I’ve never known him to say one thing and do another. And when I realized that he’d been deceiving you, deceiving us all, I – “ he stops and shakes his head at the memory. “ – I wasn’t thinking clearly. I confronted him at once and demanded that he explain himself.”

The argument in the courtyard. The memories come back to you in an instant. The way they’d both looked so irate, the way their voices would rise and then fall. Lord Jung turning his back on the King and stalking away into the dark.

The tightness in your chest is unbearable now, viselike.

“I was so damned angry,” he whispers, more to himself than to you. “Never once in my life have I imagined putting my hands on the King, but in that moment – I don’t know. I don’t know what I might have done had I not walked away. But I confronted him because I had to know why.”

He rips his gaze from the fire and turns to you, eyes flashing.

“And do you know what he told me? Do you know what he said when I asked him why he would insult you by keeping a lover? He told me that he couldn’t stay away. That he’d tried to do the honorable thing but he couldn’t stay away.”

“Why are you telling me this?” The tremor in your voice belies your pathetic attempt at composure. “If you mean to cause me pain, it’s too late. I’ve known about the King’s lover since the early days of this marriage, and I’ve accepted it. Just as I’ve accepted that I’ll never amount to more than a trinket he dusts off to show to his people.”

Lord Jung takes a step towards you, his beautiful face hard in the firelight. There’s a maelstrom behind his eyes, a polite violence that sets you to shiver.

“I’m telling you this because I need you to understand,” he says. “I want to hate him. I have tried to hate him. But I cannot. I have no position of honor to stand on. No rightful claim to virtue. I have no right to condemn the King for his sins when I have so many of my own to account for.”

“I – I don’t understand,” you say weakly.

“I have no right – “ his voice breaks, thick with emotion, “-- I have no right to denounce the King for coveting another woman.” He drags a hand down his face, distraught. “Not when I have spent every single day since you stepped out of that carriage coveting you.”

You stop breathing entirely.

“So no,” he continues, voice graveled. “I cannot bring myself to hate the King. And you were right to think me a liar. I’ve pretended that my nearness to you was benign, nothing more than an act of service. I’ve tried to make myself look honorable to you, when I have been anything but. I’ve been a liar since the moment I met you.”

You are trembling now, head to toe. Rendered speechless by Lord Jung’s confession. Slowly, the maelstrom in his eyes starts to recede. He looks as vulnerable now as you feel.

“You deserved to know the truth,” he says quietly. “If from no one else, than from me.”

There is a heavy silence in the seconds it takes you to find your voice.

“My Lord, I – “

“Don’t call me that,” he pleads. “Please. Not now. Not when I’ve come to you like this.”

“Very well, Hoseok. But you sent me away. In the woods that night, I’d asked you to – “ you stop, not wanting to say the words aloud. “What’s changed? Why are you telling me this now?”

“I have tried to leave you alone.” His voice is ragged now, anguished. “I thought if I could just put some distance between us – if I rose earlier and worked harder and retired later – that I could exhaust this need out of me. But I can’t.” Torment is etched into every line of his beautiful face. It makes you want to reach out and touch him but you resist, uncertainty keeping your hands pinned to your sides.

“I cannot war with myself any longer,” he says hoarsely. “I cannot continue to lie to you or myself. And if he is not willing to give you the things you desire, then I will.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, your neck. It gathers in your belly, too.

“So if you’re asking me why now?” he says, taking another step towards you, closing what little distance remains. “It’s because I couldn’t stay away.”

He touches you then, takes your face into one warm hand and strokes his fingers down your temple, smooths the pad of his thumb over your lips. The featherlight touch raises goosebumps all over your skin. It’s more intimate than anything you’ve ever experienced with the King.

“Do you still want me to kiss you?” he murmurs.

“No,” you breathe. “I want so much more than that.”

He looks at you with such heat that the warmth in your belly goes molten. Then he presses his mouth to yours and slowly coaxes it open with gentle strokes of his tongue. He tastes of whiskey and smells of fine, heady soap and he does not relent until you are panting. Moisture gathers at the juncture of your thighs, beneath your thin nightgown.

But suddenly you are apprehensive. You’ve no idea how to kiss a man properly, much less satisfy him as a lover. And you’re not sure that you could ever live down the shame of disappointing him. When he finally pulls away to look down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, you have no choice but to confess.

“There’s something you should know, Hoseok,” you say, the sound of his given name still foreign in your mouth. “It’s just that – well, I am by no means a maiden but in some respects, I might as well be. I know almost nothing about how to please you.”

Anger flashes in his eyes, and for one terrifying moment you fear it’s for you.

“That is through no fault of your own,” he says darkly. “And if he’s been too much of a fool to see to your needs, then so be it.” He dips his head to press a kiss to your ear, then whispers, “Your pleasure will be mine and mine alone.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Hoseok spends an inordinate amount of time tending to the fire.

You sit on the edge of your bed and watch him, feverish with anticipation as he moves the weakest logs and adds fresh ones. Once he’s satisfied, once the chamber is glowing with fresh flames and warmth, he cleans his hands and comes to you.

Your heart rattles harder with each step he takes towards your bed.

When he’s finally standing at the foot of your bed, he takes off his belt. And then reaches behind his head to pull his tunic away. The sight of his bare chest is enough to make your mouth go dry. His body is lithe and sleek and strong, his muscles rippling as he puts his hands down on either side of you and lowers his mouth to yours for a kiss.

“Tonight is about you, pretty bird,” he murmurs, trailing more kisses across your cheek, down your neck. “So I want you to tell me everything you want.”

“I want to see you.” The words leave you in a rush an account of the way his mouth moves from the juncture of your neck and to the hollow of your collarbone. “All of you.”

Hoseok wastes no time in straightening to his full height to remove his breeches, and then his smallclothes. And try as you might not to stare, it cannot be helped. You’ve never been able to study a man like this. Not even the King.

“Can I touch you?”

“Please,” he groans.

And then you are cautiously reaching for him, wrapping a hand around the length of him, marveling at the way he pulses in your palm. You run your fingertips down the skin of his shaft, awestruck by how silky and warm he is. But when your fingers reach the blunt head of him, he flinches.

“I don’t – I’m sorry,” you say quickly. “Did I hurt you?

“No, no. You didn’t hurt me,” he assures you, his voice sounding a bit strangled. “I’m just sensitive there, is all.”

“Will you show me, then?” you ask, curiosity far stronger than any self-consciousness you might feel. “Show me how to touch you.”

“Of course.”

He sits down on the bed beside you, taking hold of your hand. And then you watch with a heady mix of confusion and excitement as he takes your fingers into his mouth one, by one. He finishes the unfamiliar preparation by licking a long stripe up the palm of your hand. The stroke of his tongue sends a bolt of desire racing through you.

“It’s easier like this,” he explains, guiding your hand back to his length. You take hold of him again and this time he wraps his hand around yours. He moves your hand for you, up and down the length of him, until you can feel him growing hotter and harder in your hand. You’re fascinated by it all – by how firmly he wants to be touched, by how labored his breathing becomes, by the way the muscle and sinew in his legs seem to twitch at your command.

He leans over to capture your mouth as he begins to buck into your hand in earnest. And after a while his own hand falls away, leaving you to take control of his pleasure. And what an intoxicating power he’s given you – taut muscles in his abdomen flexing with each of his strained breaths.

“That feels so good, pretty bird,” he groans, taking your bottom lip between his teeth. “Just right. Your hand feels so good around me like this.”

The wetness you’d felt between your thighs when he’d kissed you the first time returns, and each sound of pleasure he rewards you with makes you wetter and warmer. He is rock hard in your hand now, the dusky head of his manhood shiny with moisture. You watch a bead of it appear at the tip and you slide your fingertips over it, transfixed by how smooth it feels. Beside you, Hoseok shudders.

“I think that’s enough for now,” he says, breathless. “I’ll be of no use to you if you keep that up for much longer.”

You have half a mind to protest, but then his hands are sliding over the thin material of your nightgown, cupping your breasts through the gauzy fabric. He takes one of your nipples between his fingers and teases it until it’s standing at attention. You sigh.

“Can I take this off?” he whispers, pulling at the nightgown.

You hesitate. Not even the King has seen you nude. Not once has he ever asked you to remove your nightgown and so for a long time, that is what you’d assumed he preferred. That is, until you’d caught him in bed with his lover.

“Look at me,” Hoseok says, sensing your anxiety. He tips your chin up until your gaze meets his own. “I’ll not ask you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. But I would be lying if I said that I didn’t want to use my mouth and hands on you. On all of you.”

You inhale deeply, flustered by the way he speaks so plainly about his desires. But that’s what you want, isn’t it? What you’ve longed for all this time. And that’s what he’s promised you, isn’t it? Pleasure. Pleasure that will be his and his alone.

You draw your nightgown up to your thighs and then raise up to pull it even higher. When you’ve finally discarded it, when there is nothing left between you and Hoseok you flush, looking away.

“You have nothing to hide,” he rasps. “You’re beautiful. Believe me, pretty bird – you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

Emboldened by the praise, you draw nearer to him and trace the outline of his heart-shaped mouth with one finger. And then it is your lips that find his; your tongue that moves past the seam of his lips and your teeth that find the shell of his ear. You thread your fingers in his hair, and he groans, gathering you close.

“You can’t imagine how many nights I’ve dreamed of you like this,” he says, gently laying you back on the bed. “You can’t imagine how many nights I’ve taken myself in hand to these fantasies.”

Oh, but you can imagine, can’t you? The few times you’d dared to try and seek your own pleasure, it had been him in your mind’s eye as your hand was between your legs. It had always been him.

Hoseok’s mouth leaves yours and when it finds the tip of one aching breast, you gasp.

“Do you like that?” he goads, laving your nipple with his tongue, taking it between his teeth. The pang of pleasure he incites in you is so sharp, you cry out. “Your body is so responsive,” he murmurs. “So damned responsive.”

There is only so much of that particular torture you can take, and so when his mouth finally leaves your breasts you exhale a sigh of relief. But then his mouth is on your sternum, and then your stomach, and then –

You freeze.

“I want to kiss you here,” Hoseok explains, cupping your mound with one large hand. “I promised you pleasure and this is the surest way to it. Will you let me?”

He looks up at you from the edge of the bed, his dark hair wild and his dark eyes glossy with desire, his mouth hovering over your most secret place. Your pulse skitters, heart pounding erratically at the thought of him kissing you there.

“Is it – is it proper?” you ask, chiding yourself at once for asking such a stupid question. Your face flames when Hoseok raises a brow. “I don’t know that I’ve ever thought to consider the … propriety of such an act,” he says slowly. “But I know that you’ll enjoy it if you allow me to show you. And if you don’t enjoy it, I’ll stop.”

In the seconds that follow, you think about the way he’d let you take him in hand. How he’d showed you how to bring him pleasure, without reserve. How powerful you’d felt when he’d been shuddering under your touch. He’d trusted you, hadn’t he? Just as you now must trust him.

“Alright,” you whisper, nodding your assent. “I trust you.”

He grins at you then, wickedly, before lowering his mouth to your mons. And then he is kissing you there, softly, each brush of his lips moving lower and lower still. Until you feel the heat of his breath at your entrance. You tense.

“Relax for me,” he instructs, licking a long, wet stripe up the length of you. The touch sends a frisson of sensation shooting through your limbs. “Close your eyes and try to think of nothing but this.”

And then he sets his tongue to the tiny pearl at your entrance.

And at once, you see stars.

“H-Hoseok!” you gasp, your hips flying off the bed at the contact. The urge to snap your legs shut is almost as strong as the urge to push deeper into the pleasing press of his tongue. Almost.

But he pins your legs down with his arms and continues the onslaught, stroking and licking at you with his tongue, nipping at you with his teeth. You grab fistfulls of the duvet as though it might ground you somehow, keep you from bursting into flame.

And then he slides one long finger into you.

You are incoherent now, moaning and begging in broken sentences that do not make sense. But your body is responding in ways that your words cannot, hips moving in time with his mouth. Each pass of his tongue sends sharp spikes of pleasure to your core. You’d thought you’d known what this pleasure felt like, that perhaps you’d be able to reach it on your own someday, but never once had it been like this.

And then you can feel it – the coil turning inside you, the desperate ascent to the one place you’ve never been able to reach. And it’s so close, so so close – the promise of whatever awaits on the other side strong enough to sate this nameless craving that you’ve felt for so long. It’s within your reach now, if only you can just hold on.

And then it stops.

He takes his mouth and tongue away and the pleasure vanishes. “Hoseok, no,” you cry, sapped of all energy, robbed once again of the relief you so desperately seek. “Please,” you beg weakly, “please.”

But he’s at your side now, the length of his body resting against yours, his manhood hard and hot against your leg. “Come now, pretty bird,” he soothes, “I didn’t bring you this high just to let you fall.”

He presses his lips to your ear at the same time he presses his fingers back to the aching bud between your thighs. “Go on then,” he whispers. “Fly.”

He brings every sensation he’d wrought from you rushing back with his fingers. His mouth hovers at your ear, whispering his encouragement until the coil inside you snaps. He must have known that you’d not be able to contain yourself when you came apart because he covers your mouth with his own, swallowing the sobs he wrenches from you, bringing you down slowly as you come apart.

And when you finally come to your senses again, when your breathing has evened and your heart has slowed and every part of you feels liquid and languid, he smiles.

“I couldn’t risk you waking the entire castle,” he explains apologetically, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” you shudder through your quiet laughter, aftershocks of sensation rippling through you. “Quite the opposite, in fact. I’ve never – never experienced anything like that.”

“That’s mine,” he murmurs, going up on one elbow. “Just as I told you it would be.”

Indeed. But what about his pleasure? The firm reminder of it remains pressed against you, the rigid length of it leaking onto your duvet. You reach for it and he draws a sharp breath through his clenched teeth.

“I want to feel you inside me,” you say softly, noting the way a muscle tics in his jaw. You wrap your hand around him and squeeze, astounded by how feverishly hot he feels. “Please.”

Hoseok nods, climbing over you and settling his hips between your thighs. He takes himself in hand and when you feel the blunt head of him at your entrance, you tense again. But he doesn’t enter you right away. Instead he looks down at you, his dark eyes brimming with emotion.

“Are you certain,” he breathes, his brow dotted with a fine sheen of sweat. “I need to hear you say it.”

You lift up to kiss him, pressing your lips to his. “Take me, Hoseok,” you whisper. “Now.”

And in one sure stroke, he’s buried to the hilt inside you.

Bodies sealed, fates sealed.

The force of his entry steals the breath from your lungs. And though you’ve been breached before, it’s never felt like this. You’re still sensitive from the pleasure he’d given you only moments before and each of his thrusts only heightens the sensation.

You cling to him as he rocks against you, closing your eyes to revel in the fullness. He buries his head in your neck and thrusts harder, the sound of his skin meeting yours just as gratifying as it is lurid. And when he reaches between you to press his fingers to your pearl once again, impossibly you feel fresh pleasure begin to bloom.

Broken phrases fall from his lips, a string of curses and blessings and everything in between. And his coarse language doesn’t scandalize you; in fact it only causes you to hurtle towards the peak faster. And then you’re flying again – flying apart, scattering into a million pieces. Crying into his mouth as your release explodes into color and tiny wisps of fire slowly drift back to the earth.

But you come back to yourself just as his rhythm has started to falter, just as the steady cant of his hips becomes so frenetic that you know his own release is near. You have only a moment to mourn the loss of his weight and his warmth before he’s on his knees before you.

You’ve never seen anything more erotic. Firelight flickers over him as he throws his head back, the cords in his neck clenching as he takes himself in hand. And then he is groaning, long and low, as his release spills on to the duvet.

Then he collapses onto you, wrapping you up in his arms, turning you both until he’s on his back and your head rests upon his chest. And then you both lie there for a while, skin to skin, watching the flames cast shadows on the stone.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Neither one of you sleep, the threat of dawn too near to indulge in any such luxury.

“What happens now, Hoseok?”

You ask the question after he’s made love to you a second time, both of you too exhausted to move. Hoseok inhales and exhales deeply. “I don’t know. I have no control over the world outside of that chamber door, pretty bird.”

You map the lines of his chest with one finger, thoughtful.

“You told me earlier that if the King would not give me the things I desire, you would. Did you mean that?”

“I did,” Hoseok says, pressing a kiss to your hair. “If it’s within my power, then I will. I will give you anything I can.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. “Thank you.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

You sit by the window and take in the afternoon sunlight, eyes drooping as you fight to stay awake.

You cannot ever remember being so tired. You sleep in fits and starts now, two or three hours at a time. And your body is too fatigued to talk up walking again, though the fresh air and exercise would do you some good. But you will walk again, soon. It won’t be long before you’re sitting with your birds and reading in the gentle Spring breeze.

Hyeri charges into the room like a bull, the tea tray in her hand clattering loudly. You narrow her eyes at her as she approaches and she fixes you with a sardonic look.“Oh, hush you,” she grumbles, setting the tray down on the table and walking over to you. “I wasn’t that loud.”

But her scowl falls away as her gaze locks on the baby at your breast, her muted eyes glowing with admiration.

“That’s a fine Prince you have there, Your Grace,” she says softly. Then she looks up at you and her scowl returns. “Though at the rate you’re going, I’ll never get to hold him, will I? You’ve an entire staff to help you with him, and still you refuse. You’re going to make that boy rotten.”

You chuckle under your breath as you stroke your hand over the tuft of downy hair at your son’s crown. He blinks up at you with his huge dark eyes, and your heart is filled to overflowing with a love that you once you thought you’d never know.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

y,all i finished it! hahah okay so listen. if you'd like to talk to me, i'd love to hear from you. please consider reblogging and dropping me an ask 💕

#hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #j-hope smut #j-hope x reader #bts smut #bts fic #bts x reader

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male-reader-haven · 1 year

Text

❄.·˙「The Feeling's Mutual」˙·.❄

Christmas Week day 4

Y/N needs to learn to knock.🤦‍♂️

First Hobi fic also, but I have many plans for him, being my ult!! Enjoy >:)

Tags: Jung Hoseok x male reader, smut

Warnings: 18+, being walked in on, voyeurism and shared masturbation

"Hey Hobi!" You open the door to Hoseok, your best friend's room. You swear he jumps a foot off the ground shrieking.

"Y/N! Don't scare me like that!" Despite his scolding he laughs. Hoseok always knows how to laugh and create a bright mood in the room. It's part of why you love him. Plus, he is used to you usually barging into his room without warning.

"Heheh, sorry. I just had to come get you. I want to host the christmas party next week and need to talk to you about it." You and Hoseok share a generally large apartment and the other members come over often, making it the mutual home base for everyone.

"Okay, I was hoping we would do something. Not much planning to be done if it's just going to be the eight of us though." He laughs. "We already know the drill."

"True, but I want to make it interesting! We do the same things every year, we need to spice it up a bit this time." You sit down on his bed while he sits down on his swivel chair. Suddenly, the both of you look at each other with bright eyes and a shared braincell.

"Drinking games!"

---Christmas Eve---

"All right guys, it's time to liven the mood a bit." You stand up and gather the attention of the seven guys all dressed in various festive attire. The chattering and laughing dies down as their interest is piqued.

"We went all out this year." You pull out the bottles of tequila blanco from behind your back.

"Yess, shots!" Taehyung grins and claps.

"Not just any shots, my friends, but along with a twist. We are going to play a game called 'drink or death.'"

"That is NOT what you called it when you explained it to me." Hobi sits down at the table, giggling.

"I like it! Sounds daring. How do we play?" Jungkook pipes up from his end of the table.

"Basically it's like truth or dare, except if you don't want to tell the truth or do the dare that someone told you to do, you can take a shot." You explain.

"Ah, okay, I get it. So we either inevitably humiliate ourselves or get blackout drunk." Namjoon reiterates.

"How do we decide who asks who and how turns work?" Yoongi asks.

"We can let the maknae go first. You can ask whoever you want, you just can't have the same person involved in a question twice in a row. Jungkook, you ask somebody!" You point at the youngest at the end of the table.

"Jin hyung! I dare you to go and get me a snack from the kitchen." Jungkook grins. Jin groans and rolls his eyes exaggeratedly.

"Ah, this is how you treat your hyung, eh? With my old aching bones, you make me go through so much?" He gets up and retrieves JK a very raw potato.

"Hyung, I can't eat this!?"

"You should have been more specific then."

The boys all laugh, Hobi slaps the table and any nearby shoulder as usual.

As turns go by and the night gets darker, the christmas party is going well and everyone has at least 2 shots in their system. Jimin speaks up, asking Yoongi.

"Yoongi hyung, tell me that you love me." The table erupts in laughter as Yoongi doesn't hesitate to pour himself a shot. "Ah hyung, you can even text it to me, I'll be happy with anything!"

"Zero hesitation, did you see that?" Hobi is dying of laughter.

"Ok, my turn." Yoongi sighs after taking his shot. "Y/N, you have to do a lap dance for someone of your choice."

"Bet. Hurry and choose a song. Hobi, come here." You pull a chair out from the table and beckon for him to sit. He looks surprised.

"M-me?" He stammers.

"Come on let's choose a song." The maknae line crowds over Yoongi's shoulder as they decide on a song. Across from them Jin tries talking to Namjoon, who you are pretty sure is fast asleep, face down on the table.

"I'm no pussy. This is going to be a lap dance you can't get anywhere else. ARMY would kill for this Hobi, you're lucky." You smile and wink at him. Hobi's face is red, but you're pretty sure it's just from the alcohol. As the music starts to play from Yoongi's phone, you get to work, unbuttoning your shirt just enough so that it's scandalously fluttering with your movements. You sway your hips and drag your hands across yourself seductively, then turn to Hobi, who is staring at you wide-eyed. You put a hand on the back of his chair and hover above him, lifting his head to look at you while you grind over him, making sure to shoot smug glances behind you at the other members, who are both laughing and cheering you on. The music stops and you take a bow, resulting in claps and laughter from the others.

"Wow, our Y/N is something else." Jin shkes his head in feign disappointment. "See, even Namjoon is disappointed." He gestures toward a snoring Namjoon.

"Who you gonna ask next Y/N?" Jimin asks.

"Ah, right! Hobi, might as well." You turn to talk to Hoseok, but find he is rushing out of the room.

"I uh, actually have to go do aomething. I'll be back." He doesn't meet your gaze.

"Oh, okay. Go ahead." You watch him hustle away, slightly confused. "Taehyung, take my turn, I'm gonna go check up on him."

As you walk down the hallway to Hoseok's room, your mind races. What if you upset him? Maybe you went a little too far with the stupid dare. Did he even ever agree to it? You shake your head and open his door.

"Hobi, I-" You stop in shock. He is sat on his bed, face flushed and head back, pants unzipped and a hand around his cock. Upon you opening the door, his head whips to you and his eyes go wide in panic.

"Y/N!"

You immediately slam the door and turn your back. "Oh god, Hobi i'm so sorry. I should have knocked." You hear rustling and quick movements from inside.

"No its fine. Hang on, please don't leave, I can explain-" You listen to Hobi's panicked voice and suddenly it clicks for you. Your lap dance earlier...

"Hoseok... can I come in now?"

"Uh, y-yeah..."

You open the door slowly and see Hoseok sitting in his swivel chair, face buried in his arms on his desk in embarrassment.

"Listen, I just, this is definitely not how I wanted you to find out..." Despite his face being hidden, you can tell he is red. "But I like you Y/N. A lot. You're adorable and so much fun to be around and you lift me up everyday, your perfect smile and eyes and body, I just couldn't handle it..." He sighs sadly. "I'm sorry. I hope I didn't ruin your christmas eve with this..."

"Hobi, look at me." You pull up another chair in front of him. Hoseok peeks out from under his arms. "It's okay, because I feel the same."

"I- huh?" He sits up and cocks his head.

"Ever since we moved in together. I can't believe I never noticed you felt the same. I mean, I noticed some things, but I thought it was just wishful thinking."

Hoseok's eyes light up, his mouth slightly agape. "I didn't think you liked guys."

"Me? A straight man? How dare you." You smile and feign offense. Suddenly he moves forward in his chair and holds you in a tight hug.

"I'm so happy..." He melts into you. You hug him back. You get that giddy feeling in your chest just like in middle school when you have a crush. Hoseok breaks away from the hug, only to lean forward again, this time planting his lips on yours. You reciprocate, closing your eyes and putting a hand on his thigh. You both get into the kiss, deepening it and exploring each other's mouths, breathing heavily in between. You break for a moment to breathe.

"Here, let me help you finish." You look up devilishly into Hoseok's eyes as they watch your hand reach down and touch his erection behind his pants, still sloppy and half-zipped from earlier. Almost instinctively, Hoseok's hand moves too, towards your own growing problem. You both undo each other's pants and pull down your shorts. You are sitting across from each other in different chairs, erections exposed and eyes locked on each other.

"Y/N, can jack you off? Please?" You nod as Hoseok's long, beautiful figers wrap around you.

"Together..." You whisper, wrapping your own fingers around Hoseok's cock. You lean forward again, passionately making out with Hoseok as you both work at getting each other off. Your moans and kisses filling the room with obscene noises as the sound of your mutual masturbation only turns you on more.

"F-fuck, this is so hot Y/N, sunshine..." Hoseok's voice is deeper than usual, putting your stomach in knots.

"Awe, Sunshine, that's a new one... hnnnn..." You smile as you pant and put your free hand to Hoseok's face as you continue to kiss. Hoseok's free hand finds a spot in your hair, tightly gripping a lock and making you moan into his mouth. Your kisses become sloppier and more hurried as you can feel his hands working you closer to orgasm. "Hobi, you're so good at this, hng, youre gonna make me come, ahh..."

Hoseok's face has a dazed, pleasured expression as he looks down into your eyes from slightly leaning back. "Shit, do you touch yourself just like this baby? Just like how you're touching me? Show me, show me what you look like when you come."

Hoseok's words set your heart on fine and you feel a pit of pleasure slowly rise. The feeling of his hand touching you and the thought of your roommate getting you off only helps bring you to the brink.

"AH, fuck, coming! Hngh!" Your voice cracks and you whimper as your cock twitches and you come into Hoseok's hand.

"That's it sunshine, fuck, holy shit!" Despite your orgasm, you continue to pump Hoseok until he squints his eyes and throws his head back, stifling a moan.

"Hn, ahha-" Hoseok orgasms not long after, his release shooting on your hand and a bit on your shirt. The both of you sit there, chests heaving and eyes locked on each other.

"Holy fuck." You breathe.

"Yeah." A smile creeps onto Hoseok's face as he looks at you.

"We should probably change and clean up before our guests wreck our place." You laugh and point to your shirts, both messy with each other's come.

"Yeah, they are definitely going to notice." Hobi smirks and lifts his shirt over his head.

"Frankly, I don't care." You reach for his face and plant a cute, tender kiss on his lips while his arms are still in the air, stuck in his shirt. You can feel his grin while you kiss him.

"Me either." He takes off his shirt and stands up, holding out his hand to help you up and lead you to the bathroom. "You really need to learn to knock!" He jokes, a face full of smiles.

You can't help but laugh at his adorable personality in contrast to his seductiveness earlier. It's going to be a fantastic year.

Send me suggestions on what to write next! ~ <3

--Masterlist--

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mrsbrandoxxx · 7 months

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DOES ANYONE KNOW WHY BTS WORLD IS GOING TO BE SHUT DOWN?! I HAVE TRIED TO LOOK FOR IT ON THE INTERNET BUT I STILL CAN'T FIND THE REASON WHY 🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲🥲

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kpoptrashlord-007 · 2 years

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♡ Main Masterlist || Rules || Current Requests || Prompts Lists || Main Account ♡

[BTS] Most Recent

Weightless || Yandere!Seokjin x F!Reader || Alien Series AU (6.3k)

As Lovers Do || Yoongi x Reader || Fluffy Smut (9.4k) Nation’s Sweetheart || Yandere!Taehyung x Reader (4.3k)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ = Popular

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ = Recommended

“Ladies love a guy who’s good with kids” || Namjoon x Reader

Letters To Santa || Namjoon x Reader || Angst (.7k)

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ Weightless || Yan!Seokjin x F!Reader || Alien Series AU (6.3k)

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ As Lovers Do || Yoongi x Reader || Fluffy Smut (9.4k)

The Predator's Den || Namjoon x Reader || Smut (3.4k)

Two Turtle Doves || Yandere!Jimin x Reader (1.5k)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Ring, pt.1 || Yandere!Taehyung x Reader (1.2k)

Ring, pt.2 || Yandere!Taehyung x Reader (1.7k)

Mistletoe Kiss || Yandere!Taehyung x Reader (2.9k)

Nation’s Sweetheart || Yandere!Taehyung x Reader (4.3k)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷Twisted Intentions || Yandere!Jungkook x Reader (4.6k)

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ Cookie Exchange || Jungkook x Reader || Fluff (2.6k)

~♡~

If you enjoyed this, please consider liking, reblogging, and/or following! Thanks!

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beingsuneone · 6 months

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***Memories & Delusions is Jason Todd***

#the walking dead x reader #shane walsh x reader #draco malfoy x reader #harry potter #the walking dead #sierra six x reader #courtland gentry x reader #the gray man #j-hope #j-hope x reader #j hope x reader #jhope x reader #bts #bts x reader #the gray man x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #rhysand x reader #jason todd x reader

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fly-you-dam-fools · 1 year

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Okay okay people, for this summer, which fic would you like to see first?

VOTE VOTE VOTE!!

#moon runes #ish #polls #wips #wip #merlin red shoes x reader #hobi x reader #hoseok x reader #j-hope x reader #oliver wood x reader #tadashi x reader #tadashi hamada x reader

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ot7heaven · 26 days

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Never Let You Go

Pairing: idol!hobi x manager!reader Genre: fluff, angst Words: 4362 Warnings: none Chapter 2: San Man Previous Chapter | Next Chapter Series Masterlist OT7Heaven Masterlist

Just as Hunny starts tucking into her salad, Jihyeon glides into the break room. Effortlessly rocking the heels she loves to wear, Jihyeon looks the part. It’s not hard to believe she’s a nail technician judging by the way she’s always so put together. Hunny has only known Jihyeon for a month but she already admires her so much. Her infectious laughter, calming and kind personality, professionalism and kdrama actress good looks have made Jihyeon a favourite with staff and spa clients. Hunny is so glad to have found a spa with such nice employees.

“Is everything going okay out there?” Hunny asks, popping a cherry tomato into her mouth.

“The girls out there look rushed off their feet!”

“Let’s stay in here and hide for a while then,” Hunny laughs. “What scrumptious food have you brought in today?” The spa manager asks.

Setting her lunch on the table, Jihyeon replies “Kimchi Jjigae and also homemade brownies for afterwards.”

“My mouth is watering just thinking about those brownies!” Hunny exclaims. Last week it was Namseok’s birthday. Jihyeon brought in homemade matcha croissants for the waxer’s birthday. Needless to say, there were none left for him to take home after everyone enjoyed them on the morning break.

“Actually Lucas made these.” Jihyeon explains. Her boyfriend is a pastry chef in the kitchen of one of the fanciest hotels in Seoul - no, in all of Korea. Having a hot French pastry chef boyfriend at home is a blessing Jihyeon could never take for granted.

“So I'm guessing they’re out-of-this-world amazing, then?” Hunny asks as if the answer isn’t at all obvious in any way.

Laughing as she nods her head, Jihyeon slides the container across the table towards Hunny. Hunny is on a diet - again - but how can she resist? Surely one little brownie is okay… With its chunky chocolate chips and an ‘eat me’ deeply chocolatey scent… She barters with herself and decides to go to the gym 6 times this week instead of the usual 5. She inspects the brownies until she finds one with the most chocolate chips. She makes that brownie her victim.

Noticing Hunny’s tactics, Jihyeon smiles “I think they all have lots of chocolate chips in them. Lucas knows we would have to break up if he deprived me of chocolate.”

Hunny puts the chosen brownie in her bag so she can enjoy it later at home. “Seriously, chocolate owns me. Chocolate has made me its little slave.” She disposes of the salad container and sips on her coffee. “I wonder if it settles down when we're back out there.” Huuny says hopefully as her eyes drift towards the door.

“Ugh, I hope so,” Jihyeon says, putting a cube of tofu in her mouth. “It seems that every guest in the hotel decided that today is the day for manicures and massages.”

The first verse of 'Dynamite' by Bangtan starts playing on the radio. Hunny smiles to herself as she reminisces about her chance encounter with Hobi yesterday. She’s spent so long being bombarded with Bangtan on the radio, television and even on Tumblr. One of her mutuals often posts edits and one shots regarding idols. Scrolling through Tumblr, she has seen one shots of Hobi. Hunny always scrolls by quickly when she sees Hobi’s name as it’s just too weird. Yes, Hobi is hot. Yes, he’s an idol. And yes, Tumblr is rife with Hobi thirst traps and edits. But being his childhood friend, Hunny thinks it crosses a line. One that she couldn't possibly allow herself to cross.

Gesturing upstairs towards the hotel rooms, “If you were doing in-room treatments you'd have no radio. So maybe being down here in the chaos is actually better than the tranquillity of doing treatments in the peace and quiet of a fancy suite.” Hunny offers, taking another sip of her coffee.

Giving it less than five seconds of thought, Jihyeon shakes her head with a slight smirk. “No, I have to say I actually prefer to be down here in the spa. Upstairs, I don’t have you or Namseok or anyone else to talk to. I feel a bit intimidated by the guests in the rooms.” She honestly admits.

“You do?” Hunny would never have guessed that Jihyeon's Achilles heel would be her confidence.

“Well, the guests that come down to the spa are relatable. I easily find common ground and I can just be myself. The guests in the suites? The fancy expensive suites? They expect more and I don’t always know how to connect with them.” She trails off shyly.

Hunny feels touched that Jihyeon felt she could be this open with her. “You just have to be yourself with all of your clients. I mean, you’re working in an award winning hotel for a reason! If you run out of topics to talk about you could always tell them about Lucas’ tasty croissants.” Hunny offers this advice sincerely because she knows how scary it can be to talk to rich clients who expect the world.

With a raised eyebrow, Jihyeon quips “Lucas’ tasty croissant? That’s for me and me alone.”

“You can behave yourself right now!” Hunny laughs. “You know what I meant.” She says as she disposes of her coffee cup. Heading towards the door to continue her shift, Hunny offers Jihyeon one last piece of advice. “If you ever need some advice or just a chat, my office door is always open.”

After her shift, Hunny decides to get her eyebrows waxed. Namseok made a joke about them looking a little too wild. She thought that they looked fine - oops. She didn’t want to ask him to stay at work late so she tracked down a salon that she’s heard good things about. Pulling her car into a parking space, she turns the radio down so she can call her sister. Jinseong went to university in Denmark and fell in love. She stayed in Denmark after graduation to be with her Danish boyfriend. Not long after graduation, they got married and started a family. Hunny sometimes wishes she studied abroad. She thinks of the life she could be living right now if she left Korea. She could be fluent in English instead of her skills being just about conversational. She could improve her Japanese speaking skills. Hunny wishes that her speaking skills were as good as her listening skills because she feels overwhelmed and lost most of the time when she speaks Japanese. Hunny could have gone on so many adventures and seen so much of the world. She’s not yet left Asia apart from trips to see Jinseong and her new family. Jinseong may only be two years older than Hunny but she still feels so far behind her cool older sister. Hunny’s attempts at playing catch up have amounted to nothing. This only makes her break up with Sonhee more devastating.

After a few rings, Jinseong answers. “Hunny Hunny!”

Just hearing her sister’s voice fills Hunny’s heart with love. She beams, “Eonnie, I've missed your voice. How’s your day?”

“It’s only 10:30 in the morning so the day hasn’t even started yet,” Jinseong jokes. “Well, that’s if you don’t count Karen’s morning tantrum which seems to be a daily occurrence now.”

“Oh no. What happened? Is my little angel okay?” Hunny is her niece’s fiercest protector.

Jinseong scoffs, “Little angel? Little angels don’t cry because they want to come to work with mommy. Lars has taken her to see his parents so they'll be out of town until the evening, I guess.”

“So you can come home from work and relax in the bathtub with a very large glass of wine?” Given the time, Hunny assumes that Jinseong is on her morning coffee break and would love something a little stronger than coffee.

”Ooh, that does sound like a good idea! How are you doing? It’s been so long since we last spoke.”

Realising that they haven’t spoken since Hunny moved to Seoul, she mentally scolds herself for not keeping in touch during the move. “I’m good. All settled in now. Just missing my Karen.”

“Have you made any friends yet?” Jinseong asks. She really cares about Hunny. Knowing it can be scary moving to a city, she just wants to give Hunny a huge hug and tell her this adventure is going to be amazing.

“I’ve made a few friends at work. My colleague, Jihyeon, gave me a homemade brownie today. I just couldn’t resist. So Sunday will no longer be my rest day. A quick 30 minute jog and that brownie will be forgotten about.”

Jinseong sighs, ”You’re lucky that you don’t live in Copenhagen. The bakeries here are amazing.”

“I’d never see a rest day again in my life!” Hunny laughs.

“So Jihyeon bakes?” Jinseong quizzes.

“Her boyfriend does. He’s a French pastry chef. Jealous doesn't even begin to describe how I feel” Hunny jokes.

“I bet. She’s a lucky girl. And how are you feeling today,” her tone shifts, “with it being the day of what would be your four year anniversary?”

Reality hit Hunny like a brick. She spent so long surrounded by memories of him in Gwangju. Memories that she thought she’d never escape. Four years of being a dream team gone. Just like that. Ouch. She now remembers why she was so desperate to move to Seoul. She hasn’t cried in weeks but feels tears threatening to spill. The man she thought she might marry is no longer in her life and she hasn't thought about it for weeks. That’s either Hunny moving on Hunny going on autopilot to cope with this big life change. She’s surprised that Jinseong remembered the anniversary and she didn’t.

Shaking her head and blinking fast, “I haven’t thought about Sonhee much recently. I think I’m just trying to get used to being in Seoul that I haven’t really had time for anything or anyone else. I’m sorry that I haven’t called you in a while.”

“Hey, don’t be sorry. You’ve been busy. I just want you to be okay.” Jinseong reassures her younger sister.

“I think I am going to be okay. It just may take some time for me to really believe it. One of my colleagues - employees - said that my eyebrows were looking a little too wild today. Wow, saying 'employees' is going to take some getting used to.” Hunny laughs, “He was only teasing. Everyone at work has been welcoming and kind, so I think I’ll be okay. They all seem like great friends.”

“Is he a friend or something more?” Jinseong cheekily asks.

“Namseok is not even a friend yet. I don’t know him that well so it’s been weeks of polite small talk.” Hunny says, hoping that she gets the chance to know him as well as everyone else at work knows him. “I’m actually about to get my eyebrows waxed. Would you mind at all if we ended the call here and carried this conversation on later?” Hunny hates ending phone calls with Jinseong. Timezones and busy lives mean they don’t even get weekly check in calls.

“Go! Go get your sexy brows and we can talk later. I’ll call you on my afternoon break. I love you Hunny.”

“I love you Eonnie. Bye.” After cutting the call, Hunny steps out of the car and makes her way to the salon.

After what felt like an unnecessarily long day all Hunny wanted to do was sit on her couch, watch Business Proposal and eat that dreamy homemade brownie. Just as she took her first bite of chocolatey goodness, a flash of pure white came running in from the hallway. The surface of Hunny’s face was just 90% pure smile at the sight of her cat. Sonhee had gotten Hunny a kitten for her 25th birthday. She spent so long saying she wanted a dog. However, her apartment was tiny. It would not have been ideal or realistic to raise a dog in that apartment. Sonhee compromised and brought San into Hunny’s life. San is the best friend she’s ever had. He occasionally reminds her of Sonhee but he’s a nice way to remember the good times they shared. She doesn’t know how she would have coped with moving to a new city if she had to leave San back in Gwangju.

With her eyes rolling back at how good the brownie tastes, Hunny licks her lips. “San Man, why can’t you bake like this?” The white ball of fur nestles next to her on the couch. He purrs with contentment, happy to have his owner back home from work. Before Hunny can even miss the taste of the brownie on her tongue, her phone starts to ring. Leaning over to look at the coffee table, Hunny notices that it is Jinseong. A video call? Now that’s more like it. Hunny misses her eonnie’s face. Propping her phone up against a decorative potpourri bowl on her coffee table, she presses the answer button.

No sooner than the call connected did Karen’s little face take up the whole screen. Hunny’s five year niece beamed as she saw her long distance auntie for the first time in too long. “Hunny Eonnie! Eomma told me to give you a kiss before I have a nap,” the small shouted into the screen, not realising that her indoor voice would be much appreciated.

“Karen, I love your kisses. Thank you so much my little Bunny.”

Jinseong appeared as she placed Karen on her lap. ”Let’s see those brows then,” she said, trying to hold a hyperactive Karen in place as she attempted to wriggle out of her mother’s grip.

Hunny leaned down so her sister could inspect her brows through the screen, “I think they’re the best I’ve ever had. Don’t you think so?”

After a quick inspection, Jinseong nods in approval. “Lookin’ good, girl! Just don’t tell the waxers at work that you cheated on them,” Jinseong laughs. She looks over to the right as she places Karen back on the floor. “Karen, give Hunny Eonnie one last kiss. Appa’s ready to read you a story now.”

“Can he read me The Little Mermaid?” The sweet child asks with the biggest puppy dog eyes Hunny has ever seen.

Jinseong beams down at her daughter and teases, “Only if Hunny Eonnie agrees.”

Okay. Hunny was wrong. These eyes are the biggest puppy dog eyes she’s ever seen. In a way, Hunny is lucky she doesn’t live in the same country as Karen. She knows she would have to say goodbye to her disposable income and free time. And maybe, her sanity.

“Hunny Eonnie…” those puppy dog eyes get bigger with each syllable. Hunny doesn’t know how Karen does it but she has everyone wrapped around her finger at all times. There must be magic behind those sparkly brown eyes. “Can Appa read me The Little Mermaid?”

“Seeing as you asked so politely, of course he can Bunny. But first, I want another kiss.”

Karen kisses the screen for the briefest of seconds. Not wanting to miss out on any reading time before her nap. And in an instant, she runs out of the room.

“Wasn’t she going to see Lars’ parents today?” Hunny asks suddenly, remembering that Jinseong should be at work and Karen should be at the coast with her appa’s parents.

Jinseong pouts, “She fell over and cut her knee up pretty badly. She wouldn't let Lars’ eomma clean her up unless I left work early and kissed it better.” It’s never easy seeing your child in pain and hurt. Especially when you’re almost one hour away. As much as she loves her marketing job, she would drop everything to be there when Karen needs her. And she has. Multiple times. She really can do it all - career woman and mother. Hunny is always in awe of her.

Hunny’s heart sinks at the thought of her little Bunny being hurt. “Oh, no. When you go into her room make sure to give her extra kisses from me.” There’s no ocean Hunny wouldn’t cross just to make her little niece giggle and smile. Man, she loves Karen’s lopsided grin. She’s currently missing one of her front teeth but that somehow adds to her charm.

Nodding, Jinseong sits up straight. “So, come on. Anything new with you?” Always one for a gossip session, Jinseong brings out Hunny’s talkative side like no other. Jinseong feels like a friend rather than a sister. Hunny’s so grateful for that. If Hunny had a brother instead, the connection just wouldn't be the same.

San stretches out, taking up even more room on the couch. At this point, Hunny will need to buy a bigger couch. Stroking the mini cloud beside her, Hunny thinks back to her meeting with Hobi yesterday. Jinseong still doesn’t know about it. Jinseong got along with all of Hunny’s childhood friends. The kids in the neighbourhood all hung out together. Everyone knew everyone’s business so eventually Jinseong would become friendly with Hunny’s friends, and vice versa. The fact that Hobi lived 4 houses away meant that he would be at Hunny’s house almost every day. The days when he wasn’t, Hunny was at his house. Jinseong hopes that Karen’s childhood will be like that. Living in the centre of a big city should be great but it lacks the small town feel that everyone’s childhood needs.

“Well, yesterday I went to this cafe near my apartment. Jihyeon from work recommended it to me because we live in the same neighbourhood and she knows all the good spots.” Hunny starts.

Jinseong’s eyes light up, “Ooh, how was it?”

“I have to say, it lived up to the hype. Most cafes in Seoul are pretty but the drinks are terrible. Thankfully that was not the case here.” Hunny makes a mental note to go back to the cafe soon. “I was about to leave and guess who called out my name.”

Jinseong wracks her brain. Who do they both know living in Seoul? Unless it was someone from their hometown who was visiting Seoul. But who? “I really have no clue,” her eyes dart to the side as if she’ll find answers there. “I can only think of Eomma and Appa… have they moved to Seoul to secretly spy on you?”

Hunny laughs in amusement, “No, they’re still on their American cruise. Eomma keeps sending me photos of Baskin Robbins!”

“Aw, she’s so sweet. Someone needs to tell her that there are such things as international chain restaurants.” The elder sister smiles as she remembers being surprised when she first recognised the names of restaurants and stores in Denmark, quickly learning that 711 was not a little Korean secret. “But, who? I couldn't even begin to guess. My mind is empty. Well, it’s empty apart from the ‘Encanto’ soundtrack.” She laughs, never being able to escape ‘We Don’t Talk About Bruno’ thanks to Karen’s latest favourite movie.

“Jung Hoseok - I saw Hobi!” Hunny bursts out unable to contain her excitement.

“No way. He was just in the cafe?” Jinseong found it hard to believe an idol would be in a space so public and potentially busy. Don’t idols hangout at their companies where they can socialise away from prying eyes?

With a nod accompanying a beaming smile, Hunny replies “He was sitting in the corner but, yes. I had to do a double take. It’s been years. Like, so many years but that’s still my Hobi.” Now Hunny was the one whose eyes mimicked an innocent puppy.

“How is he doing?” Jinseong asks with a warm tone.

“Oh Eonnie, he seems so happy. And he hasn’t changed.” She says just as San purrs.

“I think San approves,” Jinseong jokes.

“I should hope so! We exchanged phone numbers and we’re hanging out on Friday.” Hunny feels as though she’s been given the biggest lifeline by finding Hobi. If they can recreate their childhood friendship, Hunny will need no one else. The two best friends were inseparable once and, if life hasn’t burned them too much, hopefully their old roles will fit like a glove.

“You’ll have to say hello from me.” Jinseong says.

“We’ll have no time to talk about you. We have a LOT to catch up on,” The younger sister proclaims in jest. “Min Yoongi was also there…” She sheepishly utters. She can’t even attempt to hide how flush her cheeks have become at the mere mention of her bias and celebrity crush.

“Hunny, tell me everything! Have you set a date for the wedding yet?” Jinseong quips.

“Don’t even joke about that because if I let myself daydream about marrying Yoongi, I’ll start to be severely disappointed when I remember that I live in the real world.” Hunny doesn’t have a list of boxes a man needs to tick to win her heart. Her dream man doesn’t need to look a certain way, have a certain job or have certain hobbies. That being said, Yoongi ticks every hypothetical box imaginable. And extra boxes. If there was a dream man, it’d be Min Yoongi and Min Yoongi only. Yoongi is perfect. Or rather, the public image he projects is perfect.

“Was he everything you’d hope he’d be?” Meeting someone you admire isn’t always advisable. Idols have a certain image that their companies have created for them. Just because an idol is funny and sincere in an interview, that doesn’t mean that they’re not a major jerk when they’re not at work.

Smiling into the phone screen, Hunny may need to pinch herself to ensure she’s reminded that the encounter wasn’t a daydream. “After a while, it felt just like talking to Hobi,” she admits.

“That’s so great. A couple of weeks ago I watched their show that they livestreamed from Seoul. Was it called ‘Permission To Dance?’ Or something like that?” Jinseong searches her mind for the name of the concert.

Instantly, Hunny has the answer. Of course she does. “Yep, ’Permission To Dance’. You’re starting to become an army?”

“Well Karen has gotten into kpop since I played Blackpink in the car. I wish she spoke more Korean so kpop karaoke sessions in the car are becoming our morning routine. I even heard Lars singing ‘Whistle’ whilst cooking dinner last week.” Jinseong chuckles.

Hunny laughs, “Please tell me his bias is Jisoo.” Jisoo is Hunny’s Blackpink bias. It seems as though Jisoo is the least biased member, so Hunny always gets excited whenever she finds out Jisoo is someone’s bias.

“I think she might be.” Jinseong tries to recall listening to Blackpink with Lars, but she can only remember her excitement at having a fellow Blackpink fan in her house.

“Good man Lars,” Hunny approves. “So you were watching the Bangtan concert?”

“Yes. So Karen has decided that Bangtan might be her next fixation. She begged me to watch it so that she could learn their songs,” she explains.

“I knew there was a reason I liked that kid.”

Jinseong laughs, “She kept on saying ‘I like him’ whenever Yoongi appeared on the screen.” It’s highly likely that thousands, if not, millions of girls shared Karen’s exact thought. “I think she wants to marry ‘Life Goes On’ Yoongi when she grows up.”

“Get in line, kid. But seriously, I think it’s so cute that she may become a little blink or army,” the doting auntie remarks. San, clearly not impressed at the prospect of having another army in his life, jumps off the couch and retreats to his bed next to the floor length window.

Hunny yawns. She wishes she could be discreet about it and yawn like a lady. She wishes she could be like that. Sadly, her tiredness forces her manners to take a backseat. Before she can comprehend what it takes to begin to feel embarrassed about showing Jinseong all of her teeth along with her tonsils, she yawns again. These gigantic yawns are becoming increasingly involuntary.

“Tired?” Jinseong giggles. She realises how late it must be in Korea. Hunny actually completed a full shift today, unlike her elder sister. On top of that, she also worked out before work. Jinseong respects Hunny for working out before work every morning. Why on earth would anyone want to wake up earlier than absolutely necessary? Hunny should just workout after she finishes work. Like normal people. Like Jinseong.

“So tired,” Hunny mumbles along with another yawn. Stretching her arms in an attempt to wake herself up, Hunny stumbles and slides off the couch. Luckily she has a large sheepskin rug placed under the coffee table to break her fall.

Unable to hold a laugh in, Jinseong reluctantly mocks her sister. “Be careful. If you fell through the floor and into your neighbour’s apartment, you know I’d pee myself from laughing so much.”

“Meanie!” Hunny pouts as she finds comfort on her leather couch. Trying to take the high ground would prove useless because Hunny knows all too well that she would laugh so hard if the roles were reversed.

“You should head off to bed. We can talk again soon. Next time Karen can talk your ear off about Yoongi.” Karen loves talking about her new obsessions. Once she gets started, she doesn’t stop. She reminds Jinseong of a young Hunny. Maybe that’s why they get along so well.

“I like the sound of that. Talk soon?”

“Jinseong nods, “Soon.”

“I love you Eonnie.”

“I love you Hunny. Sleep well.” Hunny’s phone screen returns to her wallpaper of San sleeping on Hunny’s periwinkle blue pillows.

Hunny finally takes herself off to bed once she finishes brushing her teeth and completing her skincare routine. Getting her nightly routine down to just five steps is an accomplishment Hunny is proud of. Her skin certainly thanks her for it. But right now she’s that tired that it feels like a twenty step routine. Her bed has never felt as cosy as it does tonight. Her pillows are soft and plump. Her mattress is just the right level of firm. She welcomes sleep as soon as her head hits the pillow.

#hobi #j hope #bts #bts fanfic #bangtan sonyeondan #방탄소년단 #아미 #fanfic #friends to lovers #childhood friends #slow burn #love triangle #idol au #fluff #angst #j-hope x reader #hobi x reader #bts x reader #bts x reader fic

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rec-review8890 · 2 years

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JH | Marriage!au RECs

(💦) ~ Smut , (🐑) ~ Fluff , (👊) ~ Angst ,

(📝) ~ Series , (🗒) ~ One-Shot/Dribble ,

(💜) ~ Personal Favorite

Request Guidelines | Fic Rec ML

NONE of these works are mine. Give all your love to the authors and their works. The links will either bring you to the Tumblr page or a Ao3 page of the work.

Notes: Sorry, no series tagged for this au, but most of the one-shots recommended are pretty long.

Title: Hug Me 🐑👊🗒

Author: @happy-meo

Summary: Starting off with a bad one, I know, but it’s a really good read. Also cheating!au. If you wanna cry a little today, here you go!

“You and Hoseok were married, but the married life you thought you would be living is nonexistent now. You two were like strangers living in the same house. You knew his heart was no longer yours, but you still loved him. When the end of your marriage was near, you made him promise to stay with you for just one more month. One month was all you needed to finally let him go.”

Title: The Art of War 🐑👊🗒

Author: @wwilloww

Summary: Also arranged marriage, enemies-to-lovers, and royalty!au.

“The bells are tolling and you've just been married to a man you despise on Christmas Day. On your wedding night, locked alone in a room with him, tensions are rising. And so is the past.”

Title: Out of Place 🐑🗒💜

Author: @hobicuffed

Summary: Also parent!au.

“When you fell in love with Hoseok, you knew he was the man you’d spend the rest of your life with, even if it meant leaving your home country to live with him in Korea. But when the homesickness starts to settle in again and you decide to pay your country a visit, your husband doesn’t really take your absence as well as he lets on, and your daughter knows it.”

Title: Potions and Poisons 💦🗒💜

Author: @jjungkookislife

Summary: Also magic!au.

“Reviving your memories last Hallows Eve was just the beginning for you and your warlock husband. You’ve quite settled in nicely to your life as his wife and even found a town where you won’t have to fear for your lives. Everything just seems to be falling into place while you simmer in marital bliss. However, your magic still needs some fine tuning...”

Title: Despacito 🐑🗒

Author: @lady-hunkyhair

Summary: I screamed a little while reading the summary... tooth rotting fluff for sure!

“You and your husband are food shopping when this song comes on. Hoseok tries his best to keep you innocent.”

#j-hope #bts j-hope #bts #marriage!au #domestic!au #husband!j-hope #husband!hoseok #j-hope x reader #hoseok x reader #husband!hoseok x reader #husband!j-hope x reader #love is in the air!#hobi love #hobi x reader #JH x reader

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0l1ve3 · 4 months

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Hello fellow human beings I am still doing requests but I'm not going to do..

Dsmp but I can do schlatt tho

I'm not going to stranger Things but I can do anything tbh

And I can do head canons and maybe smut idk it depends on who it is and I can do kpop like BTS and skz and txt and maybe enhypen idk but please do send requests

#schlatt x reader #yoongi x reader #stray kids x reader #suga x reader #j-hope x reader #lee know x reader

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xjoonchildx · 1 year

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

banner by the amazing, incredible @kth1

⚜️pairing: queen!reader x royalguard!hoseok

⚜️rating: mature, 18+

⚜️genre: royal AU, historical AU, smut

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

⚜️word count: 10K

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

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

previous chapter final chapter

Hyeri is curious.

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

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

But her bewilderment only grows as she draws closer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your Grace?”

You blink.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They certainly are not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Has the King spoken to you about it?”

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

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

“I could never think that of you.”

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

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

“Oh?”

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

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

Boram’s lips purse as she thinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So this is how they will decide the victor.

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

“Yes, let’s,” you mutter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The shouting from the men becomes a low roar.

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

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

And it misses the target entirely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is no sign of Lord Jung.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

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

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

But there is something different about him tonight.

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

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

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

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

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

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

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

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

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

Your face flames as you think of it.

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps you should have heeded Hyeri’s warning.

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

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

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

But perhaps you should have been more mindful.

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

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

You swear. Loudly.

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

That is, until someone coughs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You clear your throat.

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

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

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

“What’s this, Min?”

At once, the gesture dies on your lips.

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

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

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

“My Lord,” you return with similar formality.

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

“Yes, of course.”

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

Inhale, you twit. Exhale.

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

“Thank you, My Lord.”

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

Is he – is he angry with you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your Grace.”

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

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

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

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

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

A storm is coming. You can feel it.

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

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

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

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

You make a sound under your breath that you hope will pass for discourse.

“Of course, there’s still much to be done. But the stewards assure me that everything will be ready in time. And there will be much to celebrate this year as I’m told the crops in all our holdings are faring well. The wheat has – ”

The King’s jabbering comes to an abrupt stop.

“You’ve barely eaten,” he notes, in a sudden fit of awareness. He regards you over the rim of his wine glass, curious. “Is the jajangmyeon not to your liking?”

“It is to my liking,” you insist, pushing the wheat noodles around your bowl in a half-hearted attempt to appease him. “As always. I suppose I’m just not very hungry tonight, is all.”

“I find that surprising,” the King says, as though you’d asked his opinion on the matter. “I understand you were brave enough to venture out into that awful heat this afternoon. I would have thought you’d be famished tonight.”

Every muscle in your body tenses at once.

“Oh?”

“I spoke with Hyeri this afternoon,” the King elaborates, oblivious to his misstep. “She said she’d warned you against leaving the castle under those conditions, but you’d off and done it anyway.” He chuckles under his breath as he recounts the conversation. “I think you surprise her at times with how strong-willed you can be.”

Beneath the table, your hands ball into fists.

The thought of Hyeri disclosing the details of your day to the King, no matter how trivial, incenses you. You imagine them together over tea, sharing a laugh as they trade observations about your shortcomings. Or worse – meeting with one another somber-faced as they commiserate over your inability to produce a child.

That thought is the most insidious. Your nails dig savagely into your palms.

“Do you and Hyeri discuss my comings and goings often, then, Your Grace?”

Your husband shrugs, helping himself to another generous serving of noodles.

“Often enough, I suppose.”

“So am I then to assume that when you ask me about my day, you are merely standing on ceremony? Surely you must be, given that you’ve already had a full report from my handmaid.”

The King sets down his chopsticks to look at you, perplexed by the contentious turn in this conversation. But he’s careful to school his features as he considers what to say next.

“Of course not,” he starts slowly. “I ask after you because I genuinely want to know about your day. It’s a consideration that I would think customary between husbands and wives.”

Is he – is he toying with you?

What on earth would His Grace know about what’s customary between husbands and wives? He is the one who’s made this marriage into a farce with his deceit and adultery. He is the one who’s held you at arm’s length from the very start in order to protect the woman he truly loves. Your husband’s hubris is as astonishing as it is aggravating. Horrid, infuriating man.

“Well I, for one, would genuinely like to know about your day, Your Grace,” you say, unable to keep venom from seeping into your every word. “So tell me then – as is customary between husband and wives – how did you pass the afternoon?”

The color drains from the King’s face.

You should shut your mouth now and say no more, you know it – but by now you are far too consumed with anger to give much thought to the consequences of sharp words. You push the bowl of jajangmyeon away and get to your feet.

“Nothing of interest to share, then?” You raise a brow as you stare down at your husband, unwilling to look away for even one moment. “What a pity. Perhaps tomorrow.”

The King’s eyes narrow but his mouth stays shut. He says nothing in his own defense, says nothing to attempt to placate you.

And he says nothing as you turn your back on him and walk out the door.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

The first crack of thunder sounds just as you’re readying for bed. You stand at your window and watch the storm roll in.

Black clouds build off in the distance, discernible only by the occasional flare of lightning. Each bright flash is followed by an earth-shaking rumble that satisfies you somehow, as though you’ve manifested this squall with your thoughts. The violent wind and rain it carries with it a mirror of the tempest inside you.

“Do you require anything else, Your Grace?”

Hyeri’s voice comes from behind, timid and small. She’s been tiptoeing around your chamber all evening, clearly disquieted by the cold reception you’d given her upon your return. The well-bred, well-behaved woman inside you whispers that you should turn to her, do something to reassure her, but you refuse.

Fortified by your anger, you keep your back to Hyeri and go on staring at the storm clouds.

“No,” you say firmly. “You can retire for the night.”

“But I – ” Hyeri starts, stops, and then sighs. “Very well. As you wish, Your Grace.”

And you do wish. You wish for Hyeri to leave you – not just tonight, but every night. And you wish not just for Hyeri to leave you – but all of them. You’ve grown quite tired of humiliating yourself in this kingdom; of placing your trust in people who’ve made you into a fool time and time again.

There is rustling as the older woman hurriedly gathers her things, then a brief pause before she slips out the door. The heavy thud that finally announces her departure brings you some small measure of peace, but it does not last.

Your bath-damp body is warm when you slip beneath the heavy duvet. Too warm. Though the storm raging nearby brings with it the promise of cool rain, it is still too far off to displace the humid air in your chamber. You toss and turn beneath the heavy covers for a while, your thin nightgown soaked through with sweat by the time you finally kick your bedding away.

So you lie there in the dark, close to feverish with heat and unable to settle down. Every time you close your eyes, you’re taunted by images – of Hyeri, of the King, of the child that never comes. What you would give to be able to quiet your mind, to have some respite from the reality of your circumstances.

But there will be no respite, not any time soon. The thunder outside is close enough now to shake the castle’s heavy walls with each new blast that rips through the sky. You feel the tremors right down to your bones, the sensation causing goosebumps to scatter across your skin.

In spite of the heat, you shiver.

There’s a prickling that starts at your scalp and goes right down to your toes. It makes you itch with the desire to drag your nails down your arms and legs. It makes you want to squeeze your thighs together, tight and tighter still until your agitation is gone. Perhaps that is the solution.

You cup your breasts through the damp, thin material of your nightgown. They feel sensitive, tender — and the very moment you brush your fingertips over your nipples they come to life, pebbling against the gauzy fabric.

You close your eyes and try to imagine that your hands are not your own. That the fingers that close around the aching buds, teasing and testing, are not your fingers. That the dormant pleasure the pressure rouses inside you has instead been roused by someone else.

In your mind, the hand that steals between your thighs is not your own. It’s larger than yours, the fingers longer and rougher than yours. You imagine that hand parting your legs, coarse fingertips slippery against the wetness gathered at your entrance. And you imagine it caressing you there, expertly stroking the spot that makes the air leave your lungs.

What would it be like to be touched like this? To have a lover’s lips at your neck and his hand between your thighs? To have the weight of him pressing down on you, the scent of him enveloping you – to feel his warm breath fan over your skin?

These thoughts only serve to make the ache between your legs more pronounced. But the more you attend to it, the sharper it becomes. Pleasure blooms with each inexpert pass of your fingers over that place, but in its wake your desperation grows, too.

You whine under your breath as you touch yourself harder, faster – a heaviness building at your core that makes you feel full, overripe. There is relief on the other side of whatever this is, and you know it.

But can you reach it?

Your imaginary lover would know how to help you reach it. He would take you in his arms and in his mouth and leave no inch of your body untouched. He would fuse himself to you, skin-to-skin, and show you how to beckon your pleasure at will, help you realize its full potential.

In your mind’s eye you can see him – legs and arms strong and lean, golden skin illuminated by firelight. The mouth he sets to your aching nipples would be soft, lips pretty and bow-shaped. And his hair would be dark and his eyes would be a rich chocolate and his face would be –

A clap of thunder explodes in the sky.

Your eyes fly open – unseeing – as you gasp from the shock of it. It leaves you trembling, body slick with sweat and limbs tingling from the sudden fear. You lie there in the dark, panting as you wait for your heart to stop racing.

And just like that, the pleasure you’ve been chasing is gone. Quick as a rabbit.

Outside your window the heavens weep, the rain beating against the ground like a hail of arrows.

The dry earth enjoying a relief that always seems to elude you.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

“Magnificent, Your Grace.”

Hyeri passes a hand over the embellishments in your bodice, chest puffed with pride as she examines the dressmaker’s handiwork. Though her brown eyes have long gone dull and gray with age, they shine as she steps back to take you in from head to toe. “Just magnificent.”

It is magnificent – far and away the finest garment you have ever worn.

Rich, plum-colored velvet embellished with gilt thread, the plunging neckline and bliaut sleeves lined with pressed bezants. You hardly recognize the woman looking back at you in the mirror, the one with her hair swept off her neck in an intricate braided bun, eyes darkened with kohl, ears and neck adorned with sparkling gold. Whoever that woman is, she is far bolder and far more sophisticated than you.

“There’s nothing like his work,” Hyeri muses, running a thumb over pattern pressed into the hem of one sleeve. “Frail as he is, it takes him ages to complete a dress. But he’s worth it. Worth the wait and worth every single won.”

You study the intertwining gold patterns stitched into the bustline. No doubt the King has paid dearly for this dress and all its fine accoutrements. The thought of your husband spending an obscene amount of money on it nearly puts a smile on your face.

“You look remarkable in this dress,” Hyeri remarks quietly, wrinkled mouth lifting at the corners with a cautious smile. “Well, of course, you look remarkable everyday, but especially tonight.”

Her expression is bittersweet as she reaches for you, gently tucking a strand of hair that’s fallen loose of your braid behind your ear. This newfound emotional distance has been hard on her, you know. It’s been hard on you, too. And though holding her at arm’s length has proven difficult at times, it feels somehow vital to your self-preservation.

“Don’t forget your shawl,” Hyeri says softly. “It’s gotten quite cold out there.”

It certainly has. The storm that ripped through the kingdom just days ago took the insufferable heat with it, leaving behind a pure, crystalline cold. The night sky is clear enough to see for miles.

So you accept the shawl from Hyeri with a quiet thanks, avoiding her eyes as you slip out the chamber door.

By the time you make your way to the great hall, the revelry is already well underway. You can hear it pulsing through the slats of the heavy wooden doors, the music and commotion contained within powerful enough to stir the ground beneath your feet. The footmen posted at either side of the entrance bow deeply as you approach, then move to pull the doors open.

You raise a hand to still them, wanting a moment to steel yourself before entering the fray.

“I’m not – If you’ll just give me – ”

One of the guards steps forward to speak when your words falter.

“No need to explain, Your Grace,” he says earnestly. “Just let us know when you’re ready.”

“Thank you.” You take as deep a breath as your elaborate gown will allow. “Truly.”

You already know what awaits on the other side of those doors. Artificial smiles that hide whispers about your empty womb, honeyed and hollow words of praise from your exasperating husband. Pity too, perhaps, from those connected enough to be privy to the true state of your marriage.

But you’ll bear it. You must. Because it’s what’s expected of you and because your political survival in this kingdom depends on it.

“Well then,” you say, smoothing down your velvet skirt with trembling hands. "I believe I've had time to collect myself."

The very same footman that had spoken to you just moments earlier gives you a sympathetic smile as he places one hand on the door’s ornate wrought iron handle. He pauses to look at you before signaling to the other footman, one brow raised as if to say are you sure?

You swallow thickly and nod your affirmation.

Slowly, the heavy doors are pulled open, creaking as they part. You step forward to enter, feeling a rush of cool air at your heels. The brief hush that falls over the great hall makes your heartbeat quicken.

But then the King stands.

He rises to his feet and bows to you, and every person inside the great hall follows suit. You return his bow and then straighten, holding your head up high as you set off to fulfill your duty.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

The King makes no mention of the tense meal you’d shared just a few nights prior. Not that you’d expected him to. If anything, your husband’s predilection for avoidance has been one of his most consistent traits. And if he’s harbored any ill feelings about the curt words you’d spoken that night, surely they’ve been washed away in a torrent of ale.

He’s already a bit drunk when you take your seat beside him – pleasantly so, if his ruddy cheeks and leisurely smile are any indication. His dark eyes are glassy as they sweep over your form, taking in the grandeur of your dress. But they linger at your bust for just a heartbeat too long and it takes all the self-control you can muster to not kick him beneath the table.

“You look fetching in that dress,” the King notes, reaching for his tankard. “The color suits you.”

“Oh? Then you’ll be pleased to know I’ve dozens more just like it on the way.”

You startle a laugh from the King just as he’s taken a drink and he splutters on it, coughing until tears gather at the corners of his eyes. “Very good of you to warn me before the bill comes due,” he wheezes.

“But of course, Your Grace.” You infuse your words with cloying, contrived sweetness, putting a hand over your heart for emphasis. “It is the very least I could do.”

The King chuckles as you turn to look out over the room.

The tables below the raised platform on which you both dine are teeming with people, their long wooden benches bowing beneath the substantial weight. They are littered with food and drink, tankards and platters and goblets scattered for as far as the eye can see.

You sip your wine and watch partygoers reach over one another for noodles and steal dumplings from their neighbors’ plates.

It takes a minute for you to spot Boram. She and Lord Min are tucked into a corner, cozy and close. Your dear friend is the very picture of contentment; resplendent in a royal blue gown, glowing in the torchlight when her husband presses a kiss to her temple. Your heart aches as you watch them. What you would give to have what they have – to know the fulfillment they’ve found in one another.

In fact, the Mins make for such a compelling tableau that you nearly overlook the one behind it. Lord Jung is dressed in an arresting black and gold tunic, dark hair styled away from his face and a tankard of ale in his hand. And he is not alone.

Seated close to him – so very close – is a woman. A beautiful woman, as best you can tell from a distance. Her dark red dress in perfect contrast to her shiny fall of dark hair, the garment cut to accentuate what can only be described as a generous bust. She leans in to Lord Jung as she says something, décolletage on full display when she throws her head back to laugh.

Your grip on the wine goblet in your hand tightens.

The woman is brazen, that much you can tell. Her proximity to the Guardsman is far too close to be proper, her scandalous – if stunning – manner of dress far too self-indulgent to be benign. And though you cannot make out clearly how she’s been received by Lord Jung, the very fact that he has not sent her away is telling. Is this the woman he intends to marry, then? Or just a diversion for the night?

You drain the wine that remains in your goblet and signal for the serving girl to bring you more.

Moments later Lord Jung, too, flags down a passing servant to fill his tankard. For a man who once took great pride in extolling his discipline with spirits, he seems to be exercising very little of it tonight. In fact, he looks to be indulging as much or perhaps even more than his fellow Guardsmen. Perhaps that is why he does not he does not move to distance himself when the alluring woman at his side places a hand on his arm.

You swallow another large sip of wine.

“It’s nearly time for the evening’s entertainment,” the King says. “I think you’ll be impressed by what’s in store.”

You cannot tear your gaze from the scene before you. You cannot stop staring at the comely woman at Lord Jung’s side – stiffening in your seat when she leans over to whisper in his ear.

“I’m looking forward to it,” you say absentmindedly, lifting your wine glass to your lips once again.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

When you were a girl, barely ten years old, your father had come home from a long journey with a fantastic tale.

He’d spoken of fire – in shades of red and green and gold – launched into the sky, embers raining down on the earth in a magnificent display. You’d been spellbound by the picture he’d painted for you, wishing desperately to see this phenomenon for yourself.

And now you have.

The King’s promise of a surprise well exceeds your expectations. Each new flare sent up over the open field is met with a hush from the crowd, followed by loud cheers and applause as it explodes into color.

“I brought them back from a village up North,” the King explains, preening at the crowd’s reception. “And though I wanted to show them right away, I made myself wait until the most advantageous time. What do you make of them?”

“They’re splendid,” you answer earnestly. “I’ve never seen anything so grand.”

The King hides a satisfied smile behind the rim of his tankard. By this point in the evening, he’s crossed the line from agreeably drunk to good and well soused – as have many of the others in attendance. You, too, are feeling the effects of your wine, experiencing that strange weightlessness that can only be brought on by drink.

And you are glad for the distraction of the fire display.

It’s helped pull your focus away from Lord Jung and that woman. Though each time there is a brief break in the presentation, you cannot help but search the throng for any sign of them. You wonder where they are right now. What they might be doing. But then you drown the bitter thoughts with the wine in your goblet.

The night wears on and the crowd around you becomes rowdier, louder – the ale barrels slowly disappearing one by one. Even the King is looking a bit worse for the wear. He’s sagged into the chair beside you, heavy-lidded as he watches the bright detonations that light up the sky.

You are not faring much better. A dull throb taps at your temples, no doubt the consequence of drinking too much wine, and you suspect that it will be far more pronounced come morning. You ought to retire for the evening now, while you still have some of your wits about you.

You open your mouth to say as much to the King at the very same time you catch sight of a slim man ambling away from the crowd. Though he’s hundreds of yards away and though there’s little light beyond the torches and the occasional embers in the sky, you recognize him right away.

You would recognize him anywhere.

Impulsively, you get to your feet and utter a rushed goodbye to the King. He bids you farewell with a sluggish smile and not a moment later he’s gone back to gazing skyward, mesmerized by the lights. Just ahead, Lord Jung slinks off into the shadows, moving with an unsteady gait.

And you follow him. To what end you cannot be sure.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Clearly, you’d given no real thought to this course of action.

If you had, you’d not be scurrying across damp grass right now, struggling to keep your balance in your beautiful velvet dress. The heavy fabric weighs you down with each step, making each footfall precarious. In fact, if you’d stopped for even a moment to consider the implications of stealing away to pursue a man who is not your husband, you’d have ended this lunacy long before it even began.

But here you are in the dark, chasing after Lord Jung. With only the moon to light your way.

The slender man moves quickly, unburdened by the trappings of women’s formalwear and assisted by his long legs. You lift the hem of your dress off the ground and do your best to keep up on the shadowy path. Just a short distance ahead you can make out the lines of a thatched roof and wooden fence.

It’s the stables, you realize, and the pieces start to fall into place.

He’s come here to meet that woman. The two of them must have agreed to leave the festival and come here for a secret tryst. Were you a woman in your right mind, that realization would stop you cold and send you running straight back to the castle. But you are absolutely not in your right mind. You are dangerous tonight; fearless from the wine flowing freely in your veins.

As such, the very thought of Lord Jung arranging for a passionate liaison with this woman has the opposite effect. It infuriates you. And you’ll not be satisfied until you can see the proof for yourself and then end this fixation once and for all.

Overhead, a flare of light illuminates the darkness just as you’re nearing the horse stalls. It’s followed by the sound of sizzling gunpowder, and it draws your attention skyward. You look up just in time to see wisps of fire tumble back to the earth. But when you fix your gaze forward again, Lord Jung is gone.

What on earth?

You’ve barely begun to consider your next move before your body is moving of its own volition, jerked right off the walking path by a hand that wraps around your arm like a band of steel. Lord Jung drags you behind the horse stall with one hand and claps the other over your mouth to smother the sound of hysteria that threatens to escape.

“What. Are. You. Doing?”

He hisses the words, one by one, his low vibrato thrumming with barely-contained anger. You’ve yet to recover from the shock of being accosted in the dark and so you stare at him, bewildered and mute.

He releases you, dropping the hand covering your mouth to walk to the edge of the stables. You watch as he ducks his head around the corner to check the walking path. Once he’s satisfied you’ve not been followed, he rounds on you.

“Anyone could have seen you.”

“No one saw me,” you scowl, finding your voice. You rub your forearm where his fingers dug painfully into your flesh. “They’re all far too drunk to see anything, I assure you.”

The Guardsman shoves a hand through his dark hair and exhales deeply.

“What are you about tonight, Your Grace?”

A fair question, and one you ought to have considered before dashing off into the night. But you’d been so hellbent on hunting the man down that you’d given no real thought to what you’d do if you actually caught him. You hesitate for so long that he grows impatient, closing in on you.

“What,” he repeats slowly, “Are you about?”

“I don’t know,” you admit.

“Well, you ought to know,” he growls. “You ought to know damned well exactly what you’re about before you go off following men into the dark.”

But it’s not as though you’ve followed just any man into the dark, is it? You’d followed him. The admonishment riles you, bringing your temper back to a full boil. You straighten your spine and sear him with a withering look.

“That woman tonight. At the feast. She wants you to bed her.”

Lord Jung’s dark eyes go wide just before they narrow. He stalks towards you slowly, forcing you to retreat until your back is flush to the stable’s rough wooden slats. Slivers of moonlight play off his angular face, making the shadows in the hollows of his cheeks more pronounced.

He’s beautiful – even like this – even when he’s so irate that he can barely stand still.

“I know what she wants,” he murmurs, voice sinking to an octave that raises goosebumps on your arms. “What I do not know is what you want. What I do not know is why you are here.”

“So you intend to bed her,” you challenge.

Something dangerous flickers in the man's expression as he regards you, gaze potent enough to almost make you regret your sudden bout of daring. Almost.

“No.”

And so there is no tryst. No agreement between secret lovers. Adrenaline floods your veins, bringing with it a clarity that you’ve not had since you began drinking tonight. You’ve been reckless – so, so reckless – and now there is no undoing what you’ve done.

“I’ve answered your question and now you will answer mine,” Lord Jung warns, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “What. Do. You. Want?”

All the fire has left you now. Whatever force possessed you to confront this man in this way has disappeared, leaving behind only a sickly taste in your mouth. You’ll feel more than just the wine in the morning, you know it.

“Brave enough to follow me into the dark, brave enough to demand I explain my plans for bedsport,” he continues, brows knit as he stares you down. “But somehow, not brave enough to tell me what you’re doing here in the first place.”

“I – ”

“Tell me then,” he goads, growing more agitated by the minute. “Open your mouth and speak. Tell me why you’re here. Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to kiss me.”

You ought to have slapped him across the face. At the very least, you would have earned the look he’s giving you right now – this frozen mask of incredulity that’s come over him. He backs away from you slowly, as though poised to run. But he doesn’t.

“You’re mad.”

“I am not mad,” you say evenly, with a poise you’d not thought yourself capable of. “You asked me what I want and I’ve told you. I want you to kiss me.”

Another burst of color explodes in the sky. A loud cheer goes up over the field nearby, a disquieting reminder of the hundreds of people milling about just a short walk away. The commotion seems to sober him.

“Go home, Your Grace.” His words are strangled, forced. “You are playing with fire. You have no idea what you’re doing here.”

You stiffen, lifting your nose in the air.

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” you lie.

Your insistence only serves to make him even more agitated. He begins to pace back and forth, glowering at you as he moves.

“Go back to your castle, Your Grace. Go back to your fine life and your fine things and no one will ever be the wiser.”

“I will not,” you refuse, petulant.

Lord Jung delivers his last blow, the fatal one, in a voice so graveled it sounds as though the words are spoken by a stranger. And perhaps he is a stranger, this man you’ve been so infatuated with. Perhaps he’s nothing like what you’ve made him in your own mind.

“Go back to your husband,” he growls. “Your King.”

Your humiliation is instant and acute. You burn with it, the embarrassment so all-consuming that it nearly makes you see stars. You can hear the blood rushing in your ears, feel your heart pounding in your throat when you finally manage to speak.

“The King doesn’t want me,” you say stiffly. “Though I am certain you already know that.”

“The King is a fool!” he explodes, surging forward and slamming his hands down on either side of you. The outburst is violent enough to shake the horse stall and the venom in his countenance nearly makes you come out of your skin. His mouth hovers terrifyingly close to yours, so close that you can nearly taste the ale on his breath. You stop breathing altogether.

Then he wrenches himself away from you, staggering backwards as though he’s been burned.

“And so am I.”

i’d love to hear from you about this chapter! you can talk to me here. otherwise, i hope you enjoyed it and only the final chapter is left 💕

#hoseok smut #j-hope smut #bts smut #hoseok x reader #j-hope x reader #bts x reader #hoseok #bts hoseok #bts x you #hoseok x you #bts scenarios #bts au #hoseok imagine #bangtanarmynet #thebtswritersclub #bangtan

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dari-ede · 1 year

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Sights on Each Other: Part II

“The Dreams We Have”

I - II - III - IV

Masterlist

Summary: Hoseok always wanted to live out his Fast and Furious fantasy—or at the very least get a taste of it on the track. He finally gets his chance. He learns how to properly drive on the racetrack with the help of a gifted individual. Too bad his instructor finds himself falling for the young idol. Follow J-Hope as he learns a new craft and helps a complete stranger discover something deep within himself. (NO smut. This story is about a friendship and one-sided attraction—narrator.)

Pairing: J-Hope x Male Reader (friendship only)

Rating: M (mature themes such as sexual awakening, depression)

Status: Complete

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

Grant Park, 2022

My crew and I followed the project manager around as he began to list off new tasks we needed to complete now that the first list he had given was done. “Before I-Hope is finished with soundcheck, I need a few of you to make sure his trailer is fully stocked with the itemized list. Water bottles, snacks—”

“J-Hope,” I corrected the guy.

My manager looked towards me, surprised.

I didn’t blame the guy. I think I had spoken a total of 10 words in front of him since I was hired. I wasn’t one to stand or speak out.

“What was that?” he asked me.

“His name is J-Hope. Not I-Hope,” I emphasized, feeling all eyes on me.

He looked ready to roll his eyes. “Whatever. I’m running on a 3-hour shift and I don’t get off for another 13 hours.” He turned back to his list and continued to tell everyone their tasks.

As he did that my eyes went over to the stage. Soundcheck was taking place.

Of course, I had followed J-Hope throughout the years and had noticed the number of physical changes he went through. The clothes he was wearing now were worn with more conviction. Although there were currently at least a hundred of yards between us, I could see how different he carried himself compared to many years ago.

As I watched him taking charge of dozens of his staff members, one could clearly see the confidence the man exuberated. Back when I first met him he had been so green and almost timid. But that had been long ago….

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

8 Years Ago…Los Angeles

“Ok, so you want to move the shift left to right,” I instructed, making sure J-Hope understood what I was saying.

He was currently behind the wheel while I was in the passenger seat. Maya was in the back seat; only there to assist in interpreting.

J-Hope was quick to follow instructions. His long, slender fingers lightly held onto the shift and tried to move it. However, it wasn’t budging. He let out a nervous giggle, knowing he was doing it wrong.

I couldn’t hold back a smile of my own as I heard his giggle. It was cute.

Quickly, I was shocked by my thought and felt embarrassed by it. It was dumb, really, seeing no one could hear my thoughts. I shook my head, trying to shove whatever stupidity I had in there down.

“Like this,” I said, placing my own hand on the shift and moving it easily.

“Oh,” J-Hope said with amazement, then muttered something in Korean.

Maya giggled.

I turned to Maya then back at J-Hope. “What? What did he say?”

“He said you have big, strong, manly hands,” Maya said, still laughing.

“Much strong,” J-Hope somewhat echoed with that bright, wide smile of his. “Wow!” His eyes went back to admiring my hand.

I felt a heat come over my neck. I decided to ignore it as I heard the pair of them share another chuckle. “You want to grip it very well, but not too strong. Gentle but firm.” As I said this, I moved the shift and I couldn’t help but notice how the words were coming out almost sexual. Once again, I tried to shove my thoughts away. “Now you,” I said as I pulled away.

Maya interpreted what I said to J-Hope. J-Hope nodded, confirming he understood. This time he gripped the gear shifter as I instructed.

“Good,” I praised. “I wanted you to get used to how that feels, to move it back and forth. Next, I need you to push the clutch all the way to the floor and then turn the ignition.”

As I spoke, Maya interpreted everything.

The three of us soon fell into a groove of communicating. Not too long later, we were doing a lap around the track. While J-Hope was a bit timid, he was up for trying a donut.

We moved to Maya’s Mustang since it would be an easier vehicle to do a donut on. My muscle car seemed to not agree so well with J-Hope, so we figured maybe a Mustang would work better for him.

After settling into Maya’s car, I gave J-Hope simple instructions. He had done well so far, so I had little doubt he could do it.

“Ok!” He said with shaking confidence.

I gave him a smile and patted him on the shoulder. “You got this.”

“Hwaiting!” Maya said behind us. I wasn’t sure what that meant but I imagine it was something encouraging.

Outside, Seb, Suga, and Jimin looked excited and cheered J-Hope on. The three of them shouted out the same phrase to J-Hope as Maya, which solidified my thought that it meant “good luck” or something like it.

While Seb and Suga were leaning on Seb’s car and looking chill as they rooted for J-Hope, Jimin had his arms up and acting almost like a cheerleader.

It was sweet how he was rooting for his boyfriend? Friend? I still wasn’t quite sure.

J-Hope took a few deep breaths and then got the car ready, his hands clearly looking a little clammy from the nerves.

“Be sure to keep your eyes on the cone. As long as you focus on that, you’ll be ok,” I instructed, hearing Maya’s voice behind me.

After J-Hope steered the wheel to the left, he mashed the throttle and let go of the clutch. As the car began to move, J-Hope began to counter-steer.

I gave him quick instructions, seeing he was forgetting what to do next, motioning to the shift. As Maya began to interpret, J-Hope was already doing what I had instructed. He fully understood what I had meant. Suddenly, we were turning, our bodies swaying to the right as he drove around the cone.

“Ahhhhhh!” J-Hope screeched out in excitement, letting out a happy laugh after.

I joined in on the happy laughter, quickly liking how proud of himself he looked.

“Wooooooo!”

Turning to the outside of the car, I could see both Suga and Jimin were now jumping up and down in excitement as they witnessed their bandmate live out a dream, however small it might have seemed to others.

Maya had explained to me how big of a fan J-Hope was of the Fast movies. Apparently, in Korea, there wasn’t a place where he could drive as fast as we were on the track, much less do donuts. As an idol—Maya explained this term to me was similar to pop stars in the US but was more intense—J-Hope was expected to have a clean-cut image, despite their bad boy looks. Almost as if they were Disney child actors. This honestly was his only opportunity to live out his Fast and Furious fantasy.

And by the pure happiness written on his face, J-Hope was seeing it happen.

However, it didn’t last too long. J-Hope quickly muttered he was getting dizzy.

After assisting him in safely stopping, we let out a burst of applause. J-Hope moved out of the car, looking a bit green.

Maya and I got out of the car next and continued with the applause.

Maya hurried over to J-Hope and shook him with excitement.

Suga and Jimin were next to physically show their congratulations to him.

J-Hope’s stomach didn’t take long to settle, his face looking more normal now that things were spinning. He said something in Korean.

“What did he say?” I asked after Maya hadn’t interpreted.

“He said he can’t believe he did that,” Seb answered.

J-Hope and I made eye contact and there seemed to be something in my stomach that did a flip. “You did good,” I said, giving him a thumbs up.

That smile appeared again. “You good teacher,” he said.

I shook my head. “That was all you. You’re a quick learner.”

When J-Hope didn’t look as if he fully understood, he turned to Maya.

Maya interpreted.

J-Hope turned back to me, his smile—if possible—bigger than before. “Thank you!”

Suga began to say something, pulling J-Hope’s eyes away from me.

While Suga was the one speaking and everyone was looking at him, I found myself still staring at J-Hope. Quickly, I began to notice small things about him. I was shocked to find out his mouth had an almost-heart shape to it. There also seemed to be tiny indents on either side of the top of his lips that almost looked like dimples. I also noticed the mole on his lip. Or was that a piece of chocolate? Suddenly, the urge to reach over and touch it came over.

Catching myself have such a thought, I snapped out of it. I shook my head for maybe the twelfth time. What the hell was going on with me?

I looked around, hoping no one had noticed me. I didn’t think so, seeing that Suga and J-Hope were now in full conversation. Maya and Seb looked fully listening to them that they seemed to have forgotten about me and interpret for me.

Thinking I was safe, I turned to my right and noticed there was someone who noticed me. Jimin was looking at me, a look on his face that spoke volumes. I had been caught red-handed looking at his guy. However, he didn’t look angry or jealous. There was a smile on him with an almost teasing expression. Pulling my eyes quickly away from Jimin’s, I tried to pull off as if I had done nothing wrong.

It was pathetic, honestly. Embarrassment took over and I felt my entire body light on fire.

I turned away, wanting the ground to swallow me whole. Fuck.

I prayed something would save me or at the very least that Jimin wouldn’t say a thing.

Luckily, my savior came in the shape of Maya.

“Again?” She asked J-Hope simply. I imagine it was for my benefit, so I could understand.

Thankfully it worked. Jimin’s attention shifted from me and went to Maya and J-Hope. Everyone’s eyes were on the pair as well—nowhere near me.

J-Hope shook his head and placed a hand on his stomach. “Tummy,” he said and then made an odd sound I had never heard before. However, everyone understood it. He was worried about getting motion sickness again.

The act made me laugh out loud.

I could see Maya and Seb slightly chuckle at J-Hope as well.

Jimin let out a small giggle and Suga simply smiled.

“He sound affect,” Suga said to me.

J-Hope let out a high-pitched laugh of his own, covering his mouth in almost embarrassment.

“Ok. Finish?” Maya asked again in her simple form.

“Finish-uh, finish-uh” J-hope agreed.

“Ok. Tacos?” Maya looked at everyone.

We all understood and together answered with an enthusiastic, “Yes!”

“Who’s gonna go with who?” asked Seb.

There were 6 of us and 3 cars.

I don’t know what came over but I immediately spoke up as an idea came to mind. “I can take J-Hope. I’ll have him drive on the way there.”

“Will it be ok? There’s the language barrier,” said Maya, showing a bit of concern, but turning to J-Hope and interpreting what I had just suggested.

J-Hope immediately nodded. “Good.”

“It’s not too far and we understand each other, right?” I said as I addressed J-Hope.

He fully got what I said and moved over to me. “Yes! I drive!”

Once he was at my side, I clapped him on the shoulder and squeezed in a friendly manner, hoping it didn’t come off as weird.

Out of the corner of my eye, Jimin had a closed smile. I didn’t want to look at him, afraid I would give attention to him and everyone would ask what he was smiling about.

Seb and Maya quickly figured out who Jimin and Suga would be riding with. Suga was more of the quiet type and understood English better than Jimin, so he went with Seb. Seb fared well in Korean, according to the siblings so this pairing made sense. Jimin wasn’t very good at English and appeared to be very friendly with Maya, so he went with her.

The way to the taco place was about a thirty-minute ride. It would have taken a lot less time but they were taking back streets and avoiding the busy ones to make J-Hope more comfortable. As J-Hope drove, we made small talk. I didn’t want to distract him too much from the road and knew speaking for him in English took effort. However, I couldn’t help but ask him questions.

I couldn’t help but be interested in him. How old he was—he said 21. What city he lived in—Seoul. How long he had been singing—he was quick to say he was a rapper, not a singer.

“Me bad voice,” J-Hope said with a giggle.

If I knew what I know now, I would have told him how wrong he was. But maybe at the time I met him, he didn’t have good vocals. Maybe years after we met he worked on his vocals because he actually had a good singing voice.

We went on to discuss his family. After gathering his parents were still together, I asked if he had siblings.

The word confused him, so I thought of how to make him understand. “Brothers? Sisters? Maya and Sebastian, sister and brother. You? You have brother? Sister?”

“Oh, oh, oh,” he said, his facial features clearing. “One sister.”

“Older or younger?”

J-Hope understood. “Old. She old. Me young.” That heart-shaped smile didn’t seem to leave his face. My focus went to that mole again. I was thankful that it was on his left side and I couldn’t see it very well since he was facing forward to drive.

“You? Sister? Brother?” he asked, his eyes staying on the road.

I let him know my family situation in simple terms, not wanting to complicate things. He was limited by the language and my life was too complex. Even with my own friends, I didn’t explain to them about my family. I didn’t like talking about it; however, I found myself wanting to tell J-Hope. A strange urge of sharing my troubles came over. There was a feeling that came over that if J-Hope had been fully fluent in English, I would have told him. And that he would have been kind about it.

The realization that I wanted to let someone in was foreign to me. Looking back, that’s what was going through me: internal struggle because I was developing a crush on the guy. I had never really found my same-sex appealing. In fact, I never found myself drawn to a single person. Sure, I had had girlfriends in my life and had lost my virginity—at too young an age, if I might add. But despite having been in relationships, I had never felt the butterflies and sweaty palms as I did during that week of knowing J-Hope.

At the time, I thought I was only interested in him because I thought he would make a good friend. Plus, he passed the vibe check with Seb, who was a great judge in character. Maya tended to not fare so well when it came to guys, which was why I was hesitant earlier that day to trust her judgment. Seb liked the guy and this gave me an excuse to think it was normal and fine for me to want to befriend J-Hope so fast and easily.

During that drive, I found myself smiling a lot as well. He was a funny guy. Most of the facial expressions and little sound effects he did made me crack up. Without anyone else around, I was allowed to look at him for as long as I wanted. And laughed as much as I could.

J-Hope seemed to enjoy that he was entertaining me as well. Once he found out how his noises affected me, he did it more.

Sadly, our destination came too fast and we weren’t going to be given privacy anymore. We arrived at the taco trucks.

After everyone made their way out of the cars, we gathered in line. Maya and Seb explained to the guys the food. It didn’t take long for them to figure out what they wanted.

Once it was our turn, J-Hope insisted on wanting to order.

Even with his broken English, he was able to be understood.

“And two beef tacos,” he finished telling the cashier.

“Beef?” the cashier asked, needing clarification.

“Uh,” J-Hope confirmed with a nod. “Mooooo! Beef.”

I found myself letting out a booming laugh, feeling my sides burn.

The rest of our party also laughed.

Suga said something to him in between a chuckle; I imagine he was teasing him.

J-Hope turned to him and joined in the laughter, responding in Korean.

The sudden urge to learn the language took over. Maybe I could ask Seb if he had any books he could recommend on learning Korean.

We went to sit at a table and continued hanging out. Apparently, we didn’t have that much time, though. The guys were expected back by midnight—their curfew.

Finishing our food, I thanked Maya—seeing she had paid for me. We went over to our cars.

J-Hope stopped in between Maya’s and my car. He turned to Maya and asked something in Korean.

Maya answered in Korean first and then interpreted. “I’ll take the guys back.”

Jimin and Suga both headed toward Maya’s car.

“Why?” my voice let out without thinking. “J-Hope can use my car to drive back,” I immediately added, not wanting to sound pathetic.

J-Hope didn’t need interpreting. He asked Maya something. Maybe it was because I was getting used to the language and J-Hope’s mannerisms and facial expressions—despite me only knowing him for a few hours—but I imagine he was asking Maya if it was ok if he drove with me. It almost felt as if Maya was like a babysitter to the guys. However, I did remember Seb making a comment about Maya being in constant communication with the guys’ managers. She was being entrusted with their clients, one of which was just a year above adult age. It made sense why he was asking her permission.

Maya gave a nod and then turned to me. “Back streets again.”

I nodded. “You’re the boss,” I said and made my way to the passenger seat. “C’mon, J-Hope. Catch,” I said and tossed him the keys.

“Oh,” he let out and reached for the keys. Thankfully, he caught them. “Nice!” He turned to Maya and muttered something to her.

I heard a word he and the other two used when speaking to Maya.

“I’ll see you guys later. I got plans after,” Seb said as he got into his car.

J-Hope, Jimin, and Suga said their goodbyes to Seb as everyone walked to a car.

Once inside my car, I asked J-Hope about the word I was curious about. “What’s noona?”

“Uh?” J-Hope asked, his brows furrowed. He buckled himself in just as Maya began to pull out of her spot.

“Noona?” I asked again.

His face cleared and he too pulled out of his spot, following Maya. “Ah. Noona is old sister.”

I was confused.

“We say noona to old sister.”

“Sister?”

“Ah…?” I could see him thinking about how he could better explain. “Maya old. Me young. Young respect old. Young call old girls noona.”

“Girls or sisters?”

We continued talking about this. He did his best to explain to me the hierarchy of age. It was a good thing that we were taking the backstreets, it was allowing us time to talk to each other without any pressure.

It was a different kind of experience, communicating with someone in this way. We were patient with one another and after a while, I noticed how much easier it got to understand one another.

The conversation then led to his group. From what I could gather he and his group were here to train and learn about American culture. He seemed excited and voiced how he hoped for good things for his group.

Another question popped into my head that immediately voiced. “What are your dreams?”

“Dreams?”

“Yeah. What do you want for future? Goals? Dreams? Hope?”

“Hope?” he asked and giggled as he placed a hand on his chest.

It wasn’t the first time he had done this. Anytime his name was mentioned, he would grin widely and motion to himself. It was kind of adorable. And like every time, I chuckled. “Yeah. What are your hopes, J-Hope? What are your dreams?”

It didn’t take long for him to answer. “Awards. Concert.”

“You got a concert lined up already,” I said.

He looked at me, puzzled. “Uh?”

I pulled out the flyer Maya had given me earlier. “Concert,” I said as I pointed to it.

“No. Big concert. Small,” he said as he motioned to the flyer.

I nodded, understanding.

“You go?” he asked, looking a little hopeful.

It was a face I was discovering I couldn’t say ‘no’ to. “Want me to go?”

He nodded excitedly. “Maya, Sebastian, Carlos, you. All friends go.”

I smiled. “Ok. I’ll go.”

“Woo-hoo!” He let out a laugh at his sound.

“But what about your dreams?” I asked.

“Huh?”

“Your dreams. No group, no members. J-Hope’s dreams—what are they?”

He thought for a long moment; I was certain he got what I was asking but didn’t know how to answer. “Concert,” he said finally. There were crinkles in the corner of his eyes as he gave a simple smile.

“Why concert?” I wondered out loud.

“I like…perform. I like dance.” He then did some robot moves, putting physical emphasis on what he was saying.

I fully believed him. I was quickly learning the star quality he had. It made sense why I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. Back then, I believed he must be the center of the team. There was no way there was another member that had a brighter than he did. Suga seemed pretty chill and the type that was satisfied taking the sidelines. Jimin’s personality made me believe he too had star quality.

Of course, I hadn’t met the other moments at that point. And I had yet to see them perform. My judgment of them changed in the upcoming days.

“Do you want your own album? Solo?” I asked, curious.

I noticed we were getting near the neighborhood Maya had described the guys were staying at. Shit, we didn’t have much time.

J-Hope thought for a moment and what looked like a sad look came across his face. “Yes. But much much much years. Future. BTS now. And forever. Team better.”

I didn’t say anything, seeing that this had upset him. In the many hours I had been around the three guys, I could see the closeness. It honestly felt more like a brotherhood. To J-Hope, I was going to quickly discover in the next few days, the members meant everything to him. I imagine the thought of doing anything without his members was a bit troubling.

Not more than two minutes later, we arrived at our destination.

We got out of the car and J-Hope gave me my keys.

“Tomorrow you to practice?” J-Hope asked as he looked at me and then at Maya. He spoke quickly to Maya in Korean.

Maya turned to me. “Wanna watch them practice tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” I said quickly, not hesitating.

J-Hope clapped.

It wasn’t until Maya was giving me details that I realized I had said yes without considering work. Whatever, I didn’t care. The next morning, I called in sick, having no regrets.

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

I - II - III - IV

Masterlist

Note: Feedback is appreciated!

#bts fanfic #j hope #j-hope x reader #friendship #discovery #jung hoseok #hobi fanfic #hobi

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rekarra · 2 years

Text

Brain Break #65

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Rating: PG

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 645

Warnings: This is all tooth-rotting fluff.

Author’s Note: I hate grocery shopping. It's all too much. I need a Hobi to go with me.

My Masterlist

This was actually the worst thing ever, and you'll never understand why you'd waited this long to get this done. But when you'd woken up this morning, not only had you used the last coffee pod, but also the last of the creamer you had in the fridge. The grocery trip you'd been putting off had to get done today because you couldn't function without coffee. It would be fine.

It wasn't until you'd pulled into the packed parking lot that you remembered it was some stupid sports ball game. It had taken you longer than you cared to admit to find a parking spot. Walking into the store, you noticed there weren't any carts; because, of course, they were gone. It felt like everything was against you. Just as you were about to turn on your heel and walk back to your car, a cart appeared. Sighing to release some of the tension in your body, you look up at your boyfriend. He'd offered to come along with you, reasoning that you could split up and get the shopping done faster.

"Breath, honey. You can't kill anyone here." Hoseok teased, noticing the death grip you had on the cart handle. You followed his advice and shrugged your shoulders as you did.

Offering him a tight-lipped smile, you started with the tedious shopping task. There were too many people, you had to settle for second favorites on items because your typical choice was sold out, and the checkout lines were too long. But, just as predicted, with Hoseok's help, the trip went faster than it would have if you had been on your own. It also helped that Hoseok knew just how to take your mind off the task by being, well, himself.

"Okay, what about that one?" Hoseok asked. It was a game the two of you would play, guessing what it was the people around you did in their lives by what they had in their carts. It never failed to make you laugh.

"Hmmm," You thought, looking at the abandoned cart he discreetly pointed. It was full of freezer dinners, quick microwavable snacks, sodas, and juice boxes. "That cart screams 'boy mom,'" You chuckled.

The chuckle became full giggles when a man who looked to be around Hoseok's age walked up to the cart in question. An expression that you knew you wore on his face as another man met the first, the freezer pizza he'd been carrying landing in the cart with a soft thump before he hissed his partner's forehead.

The smile you had plastered on your face was dopey, but you knew exactly how they felt. That same interaction was one you and Hoseok shared more times than you could even begin to count, and it made your insides all warm and fuzzy. As if sensing your thoughts, Hoseok pulled you into his arm, planting a kiss on the top of your shoulder as he started you back on the journey of getting the rest of the shopping done. “Let's get this finished, babe.”

The rest of the trip with off with little else to stoke the fire that was your anxiety. Checkout didn't take as long as you had anticipated, and before long, you were back in the car, groceries loaded, and the cart back where it belonged.

The drive home was lovely, and even though you had gotten a lot that hadn’t been on your list, getting the groceries inside didn’t take long. Hoseok helped put all the cold things away before becoming a distraction. “Come on, the rest of this can wait,” Hoseok said, laying his head on your shoulder as he pulled your back to his chest. “Let's go watch that movie.”

Sighing, you set the dried spaghetti down and nodded your head. “Only if you promise to help finish.”

#BangtanArmyNet #ipurpleunet #HyungLineNetwork #Hoseok x Reader #Hoseok Smut #Hoseok x You #Jung Hoseok x Reader #Jung Hoseok Smut #Jung Hoseok x You #J-Hope x Reader #J-Hope Smut #J-Hope x You #Reka's Brain Breaks

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seokjinsonlyone · 5 months

Text

this how i think bts would be if they was your husband

namjoon:

you’d have your own rooftop garden together; like he’d get someone to get it setup architecturally the way he has it envisioned in his head and to give like advice on the types of plants that are good for this set up but y’all would do all the seeding and watering and weed pulling yourselves

evening walks together around sunset through the park or around the river hand in hand where you just soak up nature and talk about any and everything

you both like the idea of having a pet but know that you're too busy to keep one regularly so you end up getting fish; he gets a cute little 20 gallon tank and like five fish but he actually does a lot of research on which fish live the best together, which food and treats they like best, the best plants and knick knacks to put inside, how to clean it, etc.; all in all takes the whole situation way more seriously than you'd thought he would; it was supposed to be sumn light for the summer time but you'd think he's filming an episode of tanked for all the time and effort he pours into it

sits side by side with you rubbing circles into your lower back whenever you need to rant about something

loves it when you get desperate for him so sometimes around the time you're ovulating he teases you; will walk around the house in nothing but his briefs with his glasses on talking in his deep voice; will invade your space like if you're in the kitchen making food or something he's gonna come up behind you and wrap that strong arm around your middle kissing up on you asking meaningless questions about what you're doing until you finally snap and drag him to the bedroom

consistently opens every door for you and pulls out your chair at restaurants even if it's five, ten years down the line

the type to never know where anything is; it's not even that you switch things up a lot it's just that he never forgot the muscle memory of where things were when he lived alone; so he's constantly calling out to you asking where something is; half the time what he looking for be in very obvious locations but his mind is just so all over the place that he overlooks it

uses you as his sounding board when he has a situation he needs handled; will just sit there and think out loud to you for minutes and hours; you don't even be saying that much really like occasionally he'll ask what you think but he appreciates having a listening ear more than anything and you're happy to be there for him even if his incessant rambling makes you wanna strangle yourself sometimes

would learn to help you take out your box braids; it makes you nervous when he first offers to help because he can be a bit rough sometimes but he's oddly gentle and diligent with the task; once he's gotten good with that you convince him to wash your hair too; and take down/wash day is less dreadful because of it

you two become a package deal; like it could be a boys night or a girl's night and you're always gonna try to bring the other with and most of the time y'alls friends don't mind like you're one of the boys and he's one of the girls so it's fine; even if he like invites some friends over the house and you stay in the room to give them some space at some point he's gonna go and check up on you; you'll just be laying in bed on your laptop or phone, watching tv or something and he's gonna lay beside you and ask what you doing make sure you're okay next thing you know 30 minutes gon go by and you'll have to remind him that he has guests over; then he's gonna convince you to come out with him and stay tucked up under his arm until his friends leave or pass out

seokjin:

draws you a bath when he knows you’ve had a long day; it’d be really nice too; he'd light your favorite candle and set it on the counter; add a fragrant moisturizing bath bomb and sprinkle in some flower petals; once you settle in he'll put down one of them over the tub trays and hand you a glass of wine and your laptop so you can watch whatever you want or stream music while you’re in the tub

loves referring to you as 'his wife'; like y'all will be with a group of your friends that knew you from the get go and they'll ask him where he got his jacket from and he'll be like "oh my wife bought it for me" and they'll be like "🥴 boi we knew her long before she was ever worried about you just say her name" aksksksk

every couple months y’all will go on cooking dates with his celebrity chef friends and their wives; which is basically them in the kitchen being loud cooking a meal he specifically chose for you and you and the wife not too far away watching them while being wined and dined

not particularly handy but he feels like as a man there’s just certain things he should be able to do; so if your sink is leaking or there’s a problem with your car battery or something he’s gonna hop on youtube and figure out how to solve it first; calls an actual repairman to deal with it if he can’t fix it without being moderately inconvenienced

insists on getting a pool installed even tho you tell him you would barely use it bc you hate having to redo your hair more than you like to swim; you actually do end up using it all the time bc he orders one of those giant canopy floats and y'all just lay up there and take naps or talk; the whole outdoor area is actually bomb tbh like there's an entire sheltered outdoor kitchen and grill patio area with fans on the ceiling for when it gets hot and a fully loaded bar; y'all honestly spend more time outside during the summer than inside and get scolded for not entertaining people more often

if you reeeaaalllyyy want him to go shopping with you he will but he’d rather just give you his card and you gather up some of your girls and y’all can go nuts together

tries to butter you up when he knows he's in trouble but it's never with anything good like he'll stop at the convenience store on the way home and pick up some things to try to sway you; he get home and you're waiting for him slightly ticked off and he's like "i know you're mad but look at what i got you and it's a cosmic brownie, sour gummy worms (his favorite candy mind you), some wet wipes, and an arizona tea

official driver of the relationship; lets you be the passenger princess of your dreams like whenever you need to get from point a to point b he’s getting you there all you gotta do is sit down and look pretty (and play decent music while he’s driving)

even if you’re not a certified Gamer Girl™️ when there’s like a new mario game or something along those lines that doesn’t require a ton of skill and know how to play you’ll no life it together; like will straight up play for like 16 hours a day until you beat it; you still force him to eat and shower however but you’re not allowed to touch the controller until he returns bc he’d be afraid you’ll lose all your lives

the type to get super close with your family; like you look over one day and see yo mama calling him and you listen to him and they're literally just catching up???; he goes out on bros days with your dad and brothers; all your cousins follow him on instagram and be sending him memes; and you just sit there tryna figure out how he singlehandedly replaced you in your family bc they be treating him better than they treat you

yoongi:

after hearing you talk about wanting a detached claw foot jacuzzi tub for the 1000th time he decides to just go ahead and get your dream house built from the ground up; gives his input in every step of the process since he has so many opinions on architecture, furniture, finishes, and overall aesthetics; sometimes there’s little disagreements when your design styles clash but in the end he makes sure that you definitely get everything you’ve ever wanted included

warms your car up for you in the morning during winter months; unimportant but i just know he would go out in a sweatshirt and some slides like barefoot toes out in 20° weather shuffling out to make sure your car is nice and cozy and the frost is off the windshield

every now and again you’ll just be chilling at home and then he’ll be like “yah go get dressed we’re going out” and then he’ll genuinely take you on one of the best dates ever; it may not be over the top every time but somehow it’s always exactly what you needed; acts nonchalant about it when you’re gushing over how great of a time you’re having; “ah it’s nothing” but he’s secretly super self satisfied bc he knows he’s killing it

sometimes he’ll be sprawled out on the couch watching basketball and you’ll be tryna tell him something but he’s so engrossed that he won’t hear a word you say so you gotta throw a pillow at him to get his attention

untangles your necklaces for you; sweeps the hair from the back of your neck and clasps it together once he's got it free

likes leaning on your shoulder when you’re in bed on the computer; not really nosy about what it is that you’re doing whether it’s work or whatever but just likes to listen to the sound of your typing as his own personal asmr; also loves it when you get your nails done like will happily pay for a new set every other week because of the tippity tapping that accompanies everything you do

sets up a joint bank account for you two like immediately bc he doesn't have anything to hide and what's his is yours; but also sets you up a separate savings account that he funnels money into biweekly bc he wants you to be okay always even if one day it has to be without him

if you're both up late and you're feeling peckish he'll whip up a quick late night snack for y'all to munch on

never really comments when your hormones throw your body system out of wack; like if you randomly had night sweats for a couple days and sweat through your clothes and blanket he'd just nudge you awake so you can dry off and turn the ac on

is extra physically affectionate whenever you start getting irritated even if he’s the source of your irritation; will grab your hand and pull you into him planting kisses on top of your head and rubbing up and down your back until you’re sufficiently pacified

hoseok:

all his numeric passcodes are related to you; like it’s either your birthday or your anniversary, the day y’all met, first date, etc.

sometimes he likes to sit on the toilet when you're in the shower and talk to you; will periodically poke his head in to check your progress depending on how long you're in there; ooos and aahs and waggles his eyebrows every time he does so

some people think you’re some kind of dictator bc his response to every proposal he receives is “let me check with my wife first”; you’re not tho he just likes running things by you bc he’s only ever okay if y’all are on the same page; sometimes you really are his scapegoat if he doesn’t wanna do something tho and you’re fine with being his excuse! you love spending time with your man!!

y’all draw lots over who has to kill the bugs in the house; he tries his best to overcome his fear for you he really does but sometimes he look at the bug and the bug look at him and his heart can’t take it; generally tho there’s less fear of y’all conquer it together

at least once a month he books a couples spa day appointment for you two; deep tissue massages, facials, manicures, pedicures, the works like you just get absolutely spoiled; his motto is that if you feel good and look good then you can be good and be good to each other; unrelated but he get a kick out of eating the cucumbers that are supposed to help soothe around your eyes

you get so used to the sound effects he makes all the time that when he’s not around you have to have some kind of background sounds whether it’s music or white noise just something to fill the air.

you both like plushies, funko pops, action figures and all that so there's a dedicated toy room in your home; all the toys that you actually care about are placed higher up and in cases to keep in good condition but things that you don't mind having some use are accessible; the whole room is carpeted and there are some fluffy rugs too; there's a 65 inch tv on one wall and a computer area for gaming as well; the whole room is illuminated via led lights; needless to say all the kids you know love when y'all babysit them; they stay in that one room the entire time except when they want a snack bc there's no eating in the toy room; jungkook also loves to randomly come and hangout in the toy room by himself

wouldn't tolerate any kind of disrespect toward you; say you went out to a restaurant and the server was being rude to you, he'd clock it so fast he'd be talking to a manager having your server swapped out and dessert on the house before you even realized what they said

y'all try new hobbies together; it's never anything you have experience or are good at which makes it even more fun as you're doing it; like you'll get one of those woobles crochet kits and spend like a month trying to figure it out in your free time and make whatever little creature you bought

never actually stops dating you; will still have an active folder with activities and restaurants he wants the both of you to go to; even if you both lack the time and energy to actually go out on a date he's lighting a candle and pulling out the fine china for you it doesn't matter that you're wearing loungewear and sitting on the floor in front of the tv; he wants you to feel special always

jimin:

intimacy between you two go crazy; you’re as close as close can be like if there were such a thing as soulmates you two would be it; you’re consistently trapped within your own bubble and even if you’re out and about it’s still almost as if no one else existed; like say y’all went out to a club music is thumping people are everywhere it’s a generally Loud environment if you softly called his name from beside him he would turn to you immediately; or someone could brush past him and it’d be whatever but if you ghosted your hand up his arm he would get goosebumps; you’re just insanely in tuned to each other

would love if you had a softer build bc he likes the way you feel like heaven when he lays on you; also he just likes squeezing at your squishy bits; he finds it equal parts amusing and satisfying; like he'll squeeze at your boob when you're half asleep in bed just to annoy you; you'll be turned on your side and his arm will be slung across your waist and he'll just inch his hand up until he reaches your boob and squeezes; giggles evilly every time you smack his hand away and won't stop until you're whining and kicking at him to leave you alone and let you sleep

sometimes you’ll build a giant fort in the living room when he’s getting overwhelmed by life complete with fairy lights strung up overhead and pillows and more blankets covering the floor to make it extra comfy; you spend all day together in there playing games and talking nonsense and eating snacks and end the night cuddled up his arm wrapped around your shoulders, your head tucked into his neck watching movies until you’re sure his head is free from all his worries

loves to be fed, literally; like when dinner time comes he will make one big plate and pull up with a fork and a knife and a waiting attitude; if you don't play along immediately he's gonna put his hands over yours and make you feed him bites until you take over; likes to feed you as well; just always sharing his food with you and expects you to do the same

he gets obsessive when you don't answer his calls; like if he knows you're not busy and he calls you and you don't answer it drives him up a wall and he will spam you with texts and at least a dozen more calls until you pick up; not even because he has anything urgent to tell you he just always craves your attention; bonus: ends every conversation by saying i love you like you could be on the phone for 15 seconds just confirming something really quickly and he's gonna make sure he's told you he loves you before you click end call

doesn’t say anything when he finds you crying just pulls you into him and lets you get it all out; once you start calming down a bit he’ll pull back slightly, gently cupping your face in his hands and swipe away all your tears; only when he’s sure the tears have come to a complete stop does he softly ask “what’s going on?”

still gets shy and flustered around you; it doesn’t stop him from being himself around you whatsoever but it’s very obvious when you have the upper hand in a situation

you can't just tell him you need an item from the store bc half the time he'll go and come back with the wrong thing; you gotta send him a picture of it and that don't even work all the time; most of his solo ventures to the store at your request end in him facetimeing you bc he swears up and down they don't have what you asked for but then you end up finding it for him and you not even there

knows you admire his art skills so he leaves little doodles on post it notes around the house; is really proud when you display the ones you find really cute in your phone case

the type to put his life in your hands; when y'all go out to eat he tells you to order for him bc "you know what i like"; will let you dress him/style his hair however bc "you know what looks good on me"; he just literally trusts and defers to your judgement as much as possible

taehyung:

the type to tighten all the jars when you’re upset with him so you’re forced to ask him for help and talk to him anyway

would try to set up a really romantic dinner for you complete with rose petals and candles and champagne on ice but he'd be so focused on creating the right ambience that he forgets to order the food and one thing bout tae is he ain't a chef and even if he was he wouldn't have enough time before you showed up so you'd end up having a pb&j and cup noodles

sometimes if he has a lot of energy but you’re asleep he’ll poke at you until you’re awake and then he’ll ask if you’re asleep and when you say yes he’ll keep messing with you until he’s able to drag you out to play with him

knows how to tie a tie but claims it looks better when you tie it so whenever he wears a suit he gets you to finish off his look; really he just likes to be manhandled by you and the grip you have around his neck does something for him

if you get him riled up in the morning he just lives there all day; partially aware of what's going on around him but undoubtedly distracted, thinking about you, wanting you; hands and eyes are glued to the phone at all times hoping you'll message him or something even if it is just you teasing him some more; he's putty in your hands and he knows it but when the day is over and y'all are both home you're his

you have to come to major compromises when it comes to decorations; like you let him have his accent wall that he puts his paintings of his basquiat-esque faces but the weird cyber bug and person shark statues and the butt chair have to go

you do majority of the cooking so he takes dish duty very seriously; will swat you away if you try to help most times; however there’s a special place in his heart for the times you ignore him and help anyway by drying the dishes and it’s you him and some music playing and you’re singing and dancing around the kitchen together

there's a legitimate argument about your use of a body pillow; he genuinely gets offended bc is he not enough for you? why can't you just cuddle him? why would you go and put the great wall of china in between you two? what's with the distance? was he too much for you? like the situation blows completely out of proportion for no reason skslklsks the argument ends when you force him to cuddle it and he instantly understands the hype behind it; that doesn't curb his jealousy towards the object however and you're only allowed to use it when he's not in bed with you

a whiny baby when he's sick; you'd think he had tuberculosis in the 12th century instead of a common cold the way he be acting; a piece of tissue stuck in his nose, piled under three blankets, shivering every five minutes on cue; you give him a good day of dealing with the dramatics after that you leave him in the room with a bottle of dayquil and a packet of vitamin c until he decides to get on with his life like a normal human being

loves planning weekend getaways for the two of you; like every other month you guys are out of town for like 3-4 days in the spirit of “rekindling”; he always rents a really nice and cozy cabin type joint and most of the trips are spent just enjoying each others company and the scenery, walking around the town latched onto his arm and eating good food; you come back from each outing refreshed and more in love than you already were

jungkook:

every sunday he checks your car to make sure it has a full tank and if it doesn’t he fills it up for you

you two have separate rooms bc you both like to have space to just exist as an individual from time to time (also it’s really nice to have a place to storm away to when you’re in a fight) but you end up cuddled up next to each other every night anyway

has a very strict laundry schedule and routine; gets annoyed if you don't do it how he likes when he's unable to

watches you while you’re getting ready; he’ll be sitting at the edge of the bed while you walk around from your closet to the dressers circling the room trying to find something to wear; you’ll be having a conversation with him the whole time and after you walk past him for the 4th time his clinginess gets the best of him and he catches you by the waist before you can fully bypass him; he pulls you in between his legs and just hugs you to him for a few moments while you run your hands through his hair

follows you around the house with his mic serenading you like three times a week

comes behind you when you’re cooking or washing dishes or something and just pats at your butt for a while and by a while i mean he won’t stop until you elbow him and threaten to cut his hands off; he just laughs and gets one more grope in before backing off

traces the contours of your face and murmurs all kinds of cute and lovely and cheesy stuff about you when you’re both in bed and he thinks you’re sleep

if you made him a good meal you’d hear about it constantly for the next week; like every other sentence is a “seriously, it was so good” and he won’t stop until you make it again; sometimes he’ll try making it himself to see if he could do better but it always tastes best coming from you

an absolute menace in the grocery store; will spend the first 15-20 minutes behaving as he grabs whatever he needs personally and once that's done he's acting a fool; doing that thing that kids do when they use the cart as a skateboard like push off on it and then hop on to ride out the wave; grabbing all kinds of junk that neither of you need; touching everything even when he has no intention of buying it; you have to grab his ear and threaten him with celibacy to get him to calm down

whenever you’re sitting next to each other could be on the couch out at dinner in bed etc he likes to play with your hand and fiddle with your ring; will often slide it off and try to fit the ring on his fingers; then he’ll put it back on and kiss your fingertips for safekeeping

a/n: i worked on this for months and months and now it’s finally here lemme know what u thought 😩🙏

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tryingtoremembermyname · 8 months

Text

min yoongi the man that you are

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

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

other members :

hoseok

jungkook

taehyung

namjoon

seokjin

jimin

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ot7heaven · 1 year

Text

NEVER LET YOU GO

Pairing: idol!hobi x manager!reader

Genre: fluff, angst

Words: 4275

Warnings: none

Chapter 1: Hot Chocolate

Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

OT7Heaven Masterlist

Baek Hana is the type of person you’d want if you were in any kind of trouble. Quick witted and intuitive, she has the impressive skill of being able to read people like a book. However, you mustn’t let her quiet, calm exterior fool you. There’s a storm raging inside of her. She lives for weekends in karaoke booths. Weekends away on the coast. Loud concerts and hectic festivals. Letting her hair down is a necessity for her. Though she’s kind, polite and well spoken, Hana loves to let loose when she’s off the clock. She’s the life of her friends’ parties. The firework in all of their lives. It’s not often that you meet someone as calm as a puddle and as vibrant as the Northern Lights. She’s special. Special in ways that she’s too modest to understand. That’s the thing about people who are late bloomers, her personality is just as gorgeous as her face. Her friends never have to cry alone, dance alone, or get into mischief alone. She’s the type of friend we all want, whether or not we deserve her. She’s the type of girl mom’s would love their son’s to bring home. Those lucky enough to call themselves her closest friends fondly call her by her childhood nickname of Hunny. She’s… a force of nature in an understated way. That’s Hana - a woman who lives her life full of love, in all of its forms. If you’re lucky enough to see that side of Hana, you’re part of her inner circle. Despite all of the pain and misery that life brings as you grow up, Hunny’s the type of person who’s never seen without a smile.

Or rather, that was the old Hunny. Since her boyfriend left her she’s not been herself. She’s lost and lonely. She‘s 27 - this should be when she’s happy and carefree. He was perfect. She had to constantly remind herself that Gong Yoo hadn’t jumped out of the screen to sweep her off her feet. Tall, charming and smart. Kind, funny and adventurous. For almost 4 years they were an unbreakable team. The golden couple. He encouraged her to bring out the silly side she had to hide as she grew up. She found herself getting lost in new hobbies and interests that were only brought into her life because she met him. The Yin to her Yang. The stars to her moon. The kimchi to her fried rice. He fiercely embraced her flaws with such enthusiasm that she felt invincible. With every progression in his career as a gallery curator, her pride grew and grew. She was immensely proud to stand by his side as his partner. He felt like the one. He wasn’t perfect in many senses of the word but he was Hunny’s brand of perfect.

They still had their own independent lives, preferring to live alone. But, nevertheless, she thought he might pop the big question soon. She could feel it. That’s what made the break up so shocking and hard to digest. They were going to spend Christmas together and celebrate with all of their friends. The whole month of December felt special and extra festive. There was magic in the atmosphere that gave Hunny an abundance of optimism. Then, just a few days before Christmas her partner in crime decided that he didn’t love her anymore. He said it was over between them and nothing could make him stay. She tried to talk things through but his mind was made up. He just saw her as a friend and was too stubborn to fight for the passionate love they used to share. People change as they grow but they should have grown together. Mundane is safe, and sometimes that’s perfect. She thought they were comfortable and deep in love, not boring and stale. Their mutual friends refuse to take sides but she knows that she’s the one they should be supporting. She feels wronged and betrayed by his lack of respect and understanding. He can’t bring himself to answer her calls. Maybe he feels consumed by guilt and doesn’t want to add to her pain. But he’s the one who caused her pain. Breakups are never meant to be easy but she felt like the shell of who she once was. It was only her second big breakup and it made her question if love was unnecessarily cruel for the sake of being cruel.

At least her career was going well. She was the assistant manager of an upmarket spa in her hometown. She was well on her way to becoming the general manager of the spa when she got the opportunity of a lifetime. She was invited to interview for a position at a fancy hotel, under the same company as the spa she was working at. This new spa was set in a very fancy hotel in Seoul. The bright lights of Gangnam could be the escape she needed. Her hometown just reminded her of her ex who was avoiding her. The comforting streets where she grew up only seemed to act as purgatory for the happy memories of a relationship that she’d lost forever. The memories would never leave, even though they were painstakingly reminding her of loss. When she was offered the promotion, Hunny felt a suffocating weight lift off her shoulders. Perhaps all of the pain could be left behind, along with everybody who needed to be left in the past.

Hunny was tired. She was more than just tired. She was physically and mentally exhausted. She knew that the promotion at work would come with more responsibility, but she was ready for that. Her body just needed to get used to the new life she found herself living. As the nation’s capital city, Seoul was bound to be full on. It was bound to be loud. It was bound to be full of bright lights. This was something that she knew. It was still overwhelming for her. All she wanted to do was spend her Saturday in bed catching up on Business Proposal. But she suddenly got a craving for hot chocolate, the kind with too many marshmallows thrown in for good measure. And when that tempestuous craving hits, there’s simply no ignoring it. So she dragged herself out of her warm bed and stumbled over to her closet.

She knew better than to decide against a hoodie considering it was still the middle of March. The sun may have chased away the rain but the wind continues to howl outside her window. The kind of howl that is making her wish she had the ingredients to make herself a hot chocolate at home. Unfortunately she can never remember to buy milk. Something so simple, and yet, it often seems to slip her mind. She still wanted to look good because she could see someone she knows. Though the chances of that happening are low, she still feels the need to make some kind of effort. Trust today to be the day when everyone she knows in this city decides to go to the same cafe.

She drew two symmetrical flicks on her eyelids. If there’s one thing Hunny can do, it’s draw her eyeliner perfectly on the first try. She’d call that useless skill a party trick if it were interesting enough. She threw her hair in a calculated messy bun and looked around her room for her pink lip gloss. It was on her desk as she used it yesterday. It’s always on her desk because she uses it daily and needs to locate it quickly. So, where is it now? After searching hastily all over her room, she finds it on the rug under her head to toe mirror. She picks up her lip gloss and applies it. She lets out a yawn as she places the lip gloss back on the desk. She inspects her outfit in the full length mirror. Black skinny jeans and a black hoodie with a Bart Simpson design across it. She laughs at the funny cartoon on her chest. Bart is leaning against his skateboard, wearing sunglasses, as a speech bubble above him reads “eat my shorts”. Equally comfy and cute, her outfit is almost complete.

With a quick nod, she walks out into the corridor, grabbing a small leather bag and a black and white tartan scarf. She slightly parts her bangs in the mirror near the door to her apartment, making a mental note to book a hair appointment sometime next week. Another thing that she’s not been on top of lately. The weather outside is still on her mind, praying for a short and dry spring season. Hunny really hates being cold. She’s so sensitive to the cold that it can get painful for her. Hoping that the weather is kind to her, she makes sure she has everything she needs. Purse? Yes. Keys? Yes. Shoes? Yes? Scarf? Yes. Sliding her phone into her jeans pocket, Hunny psychs herself up to brave the cold. She takes a short moment to enjoy standing in her warm apartment. And then just as swiftly as she hopes to return home, she opens the door to her apartment and speed walks out of the building.

Finally feeling the comforting warmth of the hot drink in her hand, Hunny makes her way to the exit. The weather wasn't as horrendous as the wind made her believe it to be. She decided to have a slow stroll home, clutching the warm beverage close to her chest. Nearing the exit, she heard her name. But that can’t be right. They called out her nickname. Everyone she knows in this city knows her by her legal name. They're all colleagues. She hasn’t gotten close enough to anyone to allow them to use her childhood nickname. She’s been Hunny for so long that when someone calls her Hana, she knows there’s some distance between the two of them. But the voice calls out “Hunny” again. Taken back a little, she looks around until a pair of piercing eyes meet hers. Overcome with joy and shock, the smile on her face is unmissable. Walking as fast as she can with a hot drink in her hand, she walks over to the table in the darkly lit corner of the cafe.

“Hobi oppa? Is it really you?” Hunny says with a laugh in disbelief. Of course it’s him. She’ll always be able to pick him out of a sea of people. He’s forever been the person who stands out in a crowd. His bright inquisitive eyes have always lit up like festival lanterns.

The tall man grins from ear to ear and confirms. “It’s really me”. He giggles and rises from his chair to engulf Hunny in a hug that feels like home. He no longer smells like cheap hairspray and hair gel. There’s an air of sophistication about him. She’s never smelt this cologne before but she already knows it’s a new favourite of hers. “Have I really changed so much that you don’t recognize me?”

“No, you’re still as handsome as the day you left,” she remarks as she looks up to inspect his face. His smile still reaching his eyes. Joy written all over his face. She doesn’t know if Hobi will ever lose his childlike wonder. It’s woven into his DNA, surely. It’s been so long since she felt his warm embrace. She didn’t realise how much she missed being squashed by his arms. “It’s just a shock to see you considering you’re probably very busy with work.”

“Yeah, I have been busy lately. I’m actually just taking a break from dance practice.” Hobi says, as he takes in his childhood friend. There’s something different about her. He probably wouldn't have recognised her if they hadn’t have spent their teenage years glued to each other’s side. “So, how have you been lately? Take a seat,” he smiles, gesturing to the seat next to him.

“I don’t even know where to begin! So much has happened since we last spoke.” She says with a slight sigh.

“I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to keep in touch. We said we were going to be best friends for life when I left to become a trainee. And I’ve seen you just once since I left.”

“Actually, you’ve seen me twice,” she teases with a smirk. “You came home for New Year and your birthday. And then you were so busy being a trainee, working hard to make your dreams come true. It’s really not your fault that we lost touch, Hobi. It’s just one of those things.” She places her scarf on the back of her chair.

“I guess you’re right. But I should have tried to find your number each time I had to get a new phone.”

“Yes, Hobi. You’re the worst friend in the world. You win that award”, she jokes.

Laughing, he takes a sip of his ice americano. “What are you doing in Seoul?”

“I actually moved here last month. Still trying to get used to the city, if I can.”

“It does take a bit of getting used to, that’s for sure. Do you work in the city?” he asks, leaning in.

“I just got promoted so I’m now a spa manager in a hotel in Gangnam. At first I wasn’t sure if I should take the job, but now? I just wish I was promoted sooner! The hotel is so fancy and the job comes with lots of nice perks.” She beams.

Hobi’s face lights up with a genuine smile, ”I’m so happy for you, Hunny.”

“Thank you,” she says, sipping her hot chocolate. Her eyelashes dance on her rosy cheeks as she savours the blend of subtle spices of the drink. There is no way that she could have made a drink this indulgently tasty at home, even with all of the right ingredients.

Hobi hums as he takes in Hunny’s face. “You look so grown up. It suits you. You’re a woman! My little Hunny is now a woman, then? Huh?” His eyebrows raise with mischief.

She laughs shyly, “I’ve had a big old glow up. We all know I needed one.”

Before Hobi can interject, someone is standing behind Hunny with a confused look on his face. Hobi looks up, which prompts Hunny to look up. She sees a pair of beautiful catlike eyes staring down at her. His skin is so pale and poreless, she’s sure he was carved out of marble. It would have to be the finest marble shipped from Italy. Carefully crafted with precision to achieve heaven in human form. Her mouth goes dry as reality hits her. She knows exactly who she’s staring up at. She can’t lie to herself and say she hasn’t dreamt of meeting him. And now that he’s close enough to smell, she thinks she has died and gone as close to heaven as she’s ever been. In all of her years of being an army and watching Bangtan from afar, she could have never guessed that he would smell like vanilla, and what’s that? Amber? Firewood? All she knows is that it smells manly. And it suits him.

“Ah, Yoongi hyung. This is my childhood best friend, Hunny. I mean Hana,” Hobi says with a shy smile.

As he sits down next to her, Hunny swears he can hear her heartbeat. “Nice to meet you, Hana. I’m Yoongi.” Yoongi offers a genuine smile, albeit a brief one.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Yoongi,” focusing her attention on Hobi, she reluctantly says what she wishes she didn’t have to. “I think I should get going now. I’ve already taken up too much of your time. You’re supposed to be enjoying your break.”

“We’ll have none of that talk! You could never take up too much of my time. What kind of catch up would this be if it was over already?” Hobi rubs Hunny’s arm, reassuring her that he also doesn’t want to say goodbye so soon.

Looking at Yoongi, she smiles weakly. “I don’t want to intrude. You’re here to have a coffee with Yoongi, not me.”

“You can stay. I don’t mind. I’m just happy to be here drinking coffee,” Yoongi laughs.

Feeling more relaxed, Hunny takes a sip of her hot chocolate. Noticing it starting to get cold, she decides to stop drinking. She’ll order a fresh one if she stays here long enough.

Hobi perks up, “We should exchange numbers! I promise not to lose it this time.” He hands Hunny his phone and she passes hers over to him.

Yoongi looks over at Hunny from the corner of his eye. Something catches his attention which he cannot ignore. “Eat my shorts?” he laughs.

Hobi looks down at her hoodie, “Oh, is that Bart Simpson?”

“Of course! He’s a legend, how could you not recognise him?” Yoongi asks in disbelief.

“Hobi, I expected better from you than to completely disregard the leader of a generation.” Hunny shakes her head.

The three of them let out hearty laughs as a few people on nearby tables glance over at them. It feels as though no time or distance has separated Hunny and Hobi. It’s just like how she had hoped it would feel once they reunited. She always knew they would reunite somehow.

“Did you hear about Taemin’s wedding?” Hunny asks Hobi, as the thought suddenly pops into her head. She grabs a hold of his hand with urgency to tell him the juicy gossip.

“No… What happened?” he asks inquisitively, raising his eyebrows.

“Ok so promise not to laugh too loud.” Hunny instructs.

“Now I’m intrigued about Taemin.” Yoongi jokes.

“I promise.” Hobi says, looking at Hunny intently.

“So he married Hari, which I think we all saw coming since we were 15.”

Hobi hums and nods along, fondly remembering his childhood living on the same street as Hunny and Taemin. He sometimes wishes life could be that simple again.

“The last salon that I worked in was next to the photography studio, so I picked up their wedding photos for them on my break one day. So when I get to their house they let me be the first person to see their wedding photos. Bearing in mind we’re all seeing them for the first time together. It was a magical day full of love and happiness. Most of the photos caught that wonderfully. Everyone looked photogenic. The photographer was amazing. So I don’t know how he missed something this big. But he somehow did. Hari’s brother pulled down his pants and his butt was barely an inch away from Taemin’s back. Like, Hayoung’s bare flesh was so close to touching his bespoke tailored suit.”

Hobi bursts out laughing “And he didn’t know?” He wipes a single tear from his cheek.

“No. If he knew, he wouldn’t have reacted the way he did. He cried, which isn’t something to laugh about but what happened next is next level.”

“I’m guessing Taemin doesn’t have much luck?” Yoongi asks.

“That would be an understatement, “ she laughs. “He phoned Hari’s brother right away. So before Hayoung can even say hello, Taemin shouts ‘Why did you put your butt on my back? It was my wedding day. Your noona is on the brink of tears.’ Like, he was so angry. His voice even broke at the end of the sentence.” She looks over to Hobi, “Taemin isn’t the same Taemin that you used to know. Now he’s mature and serious so this was a side of him that I thought was buried so far deep within him.”

“I can’t even imagine him being mature.”

“It was a gradual process.” She counters. “But there’s more to this story.”

“I’ve always wondered where Hobi got his wild side from. It’s your hometown!” Yoongi laughs.

“As much as I love my hometown, no one normal that I know is from Gwangju.” Hunny laughs. “Anyway, Taemin must have dialled the wrong number in a rush and the person who responded wasn’t Hayoung.”

Hobi’s eyes widened again, which must have been the 50th time that happened this afternoon. He and Yoongi were both on the edge of their seats. Yoongi was quickly learning that Hunny was the storyteller amongst Hobi’s friends. She always knew what details to extract to emphasise an emotion or feeling. Whilst Hobi rushed to the punchline, she liked to build a picture and let the punchline sit there for a while.

“He actually phoned one of his employees. Which is even more embarrassing considering he owns an insurance company. He’s the king of being professional and serious at work. He ended the call so quickly. I wonder if that employee was brave enough to mention it at work.” All three of them now have tears in their eyes. This impromptu catch up has turned out to be the vitamin their tiring days needed.

After a few more funny stories and sharing details about their new grown up lives, the childhood best friends had to part ways.

“It has been so good catching up with you, Hunny. We’re not going to leave it so long next time, okay?” Hobi says, pulling her into a long hug.

“Okay. I promise.” Hunny says, speaking into her Hobi’s warm chest. As she wraps her arms around his slim torso, she makes a promise of her own: to never let life get in the way of friendship again. Hobi had promised to be her best friend for the rest of his life but she had also promised him the same thing. She had been acting like a stranger, barely an acquaintance of his. Could she really blame his career for being too big to allow her to still be a part of his life? Even as children, she was in awe of how effortlessly cool Hobi was. Of course he was now living a super cool life, in a world where Hunny didn’t belong. She hopes that now they both live in the same city they have a chance to reconnect.

“I’ll miss you Mister Hoseok.” Hunny pouts.

“I’ll miss you too, Miss Hana” Hobi’s pout is almost identical.

“It was really lovely meeting you, Yoongi.” Hunny says with a smile in his direction.

“It was lovely meeting you too. I don’t know if I should call you Hana or Hunny.” Yoongi laughs awkwardly as he scratches his neck.

“You can call me Hana now, and then if we meet again you can call me Hunny.”

“Ok.” Yoongi nods. His eyes turn into mini crescent moons as he smiles. Hunny can’t help but be drawn to his cute mannerisms. The way that he is just as inviting as Hobi. The way that he welcomed her to gatecrash his break. She can read people on first meeting and she’s glad that Hobi has someone like Yoongi in his life.

As Hunny walks back to her apartment, wind in her face, she cannot stop smiling. It almost feels as though she has made a new friend today. Hobi isn’t the same 17 year old that left their hometown. He’s a man now. He has a new circle of friends in a new city and a fulfilling career. She’s been rooting for him from a distance as an army. But knowing that he really is as happy as she’d hoped? That’s the best news she's heard in a while. She has a good feeling about the week ahead. Even stress at work cannot ruin her mood this week.

Hunny is laying on her bed listening to her chillout playlist. She’s not tired enough to nap but there’s something calming about laying in a darkly lit room, lounging about in cosy pyjamas. Her phone buzzes beside her. Recognising it as her text message tone, she decides not to move until the end of the song. She finds herself singing along to LeeHi’s H.S.K.T. As the song moves through the outro, she rolls over and takes a look at her phone. Her eyes light up when she opens the message.

Hobi Oppa: Hey Hunny. I really enjoyed catching up with you earlier. I miss you already. Would you be able to meet up again soon? Friday maybe?

Her fingers work as fast as they can trying to keep up with the thoughts in her head.

Hunny: Hobi oppa! I miss you so much! I didn’t realise how much until I saw you. I finish work at 6 on Friday.

Hobi’s reply is instant.

Hobi Oppa: I can pick you up from work. We can have beer and fried chicken whilst ignoring what’s on the television, if you like?

Hunny: Sounds like a plan. I work at Byeol Nagwon Salon. It’s inside Hotel Nagwon, along the river. My shift ends at 6 but I probably won’t be outside until 10 minutes later, it takes a while to sign out.

Hobi Oppa: I should be able to find that easily. And don’t worry. If I have to wait for you, I can just use that as a way of blackmailing you in the future. I’ll see you on Friday.

Hunny: And suddenly I’m scared of even being just one minute late… I can’t wait until Friday. See you then!

Just another week of work. Just another week of being on her feet for many hours. Just another week of making small talk with coworkers she doesn’t know all that well. Once again, Hunny falls into a deep sleep before she can finish the episode that’s playing on her laptop.

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