Summary-“You never thought a change in wardrobe could have this effect on you. Was it possible that Dior was now dealing with the occults and had somehow bewitched this piece of clothing?”
Or, alternatively, your best friend tries on the latest Dior harness and you simply cannot help but jump his bones..
word count- 9.6k (this was supposed to be a drabble… stares at the camera)
pairing- nonidol!Hoseok x richgirl!Reader
rating-R
genre- smut, slight angst, pwp, childhood friends to lovers
warnings- DIOR!HOBI, mean dom!Hobi, sub!Reader, public sex, spanking, oral (f and m receiving), degradation (use of slut, whore, crawling), sir kink, face fucking, fingering, pussy slapping, edging (a little), overstimulation, protected penetration, aftercare, hints of dom drop. OOF I think that’s all. SEE YOU IN MY PENTHOUSE IN HELL.
a.n- This is probably the filthiest thing I have ever written. I truly hope Hoseok never sees this because… you know what I don’t want to think about that. This is a part of @houseofddaeng‘s Happy Hobiuary event with my favourite iconic Hobi look. Please proceed to grab your hobi water and enjoy!
This was written to torture Bella @hobisbeautifulass as revenge for writing the whipped Daddy Joon of my dreams (go check out Retaliation here! ). So a huge thank you to my girl for not only beta reading this for me, but motivating me endlessly! You my hype woman and I love you! Also, thank you to Anna @oftenderweapons for being excited for this and beta reading as well. Honestly, I love you both so much, imma cry!
As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask!
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“Let’s go, bitch! I need new clothes!” You announced as you walked into your best friend’s apartment, sipping an iced americano with another in hand for him. Hoseok just shook his head and rolled his eyes from where he laid on his couch, still dressed in a black t-shirt and sweats, despite your twelve texts asking him to be ready for your arrival. Although you were sure that outfit was high end, you wanted the Hoseok that could turn the women in stores to mush with one glance, and that could only be accomplished when he donned his too skinny jeans and tailored shirts. At least in your opinion, that was. His attire seemed the complete opposite to the white Gucci blouse and red Chanel skirt you wore, your hair perfectly curled and lips painted a bright scarlet to match.
“You spent six million won last week and you told me to stop you if you wanted to shop again,” he stated matter-of-factly, reaching for his drink. You refused to hand it to him, causing him to whine the more you held it out of reach.
“Come on Hobi! I had a bad day yesterday. Please?” You pouted at him in an attempt to persuade him, but instead of relenting to you he just gave you a pout right back. Damn it, why was his puppy face infinitely better than yours?
I’ve been wanting to read this for forever and I finally had the time to! I enjoyed it so much! Dior Hobi makes us all feral. Dom Hobi is chef kiss. You did great ☺️ Thank you!
His cold authoritative tone messed with your head, making you squeeze your thighs for relief. The movement didn’t go unnoticed by your friend in black as he let out a chuckle at your actions. You had no words. How did Hoseok go from your usually goofy friend to this? Has he always been like this? What was happening?
DUALITY COME THROUGH
all you could feel were his lips on your neck, suckling the spot right where it met your shoulder and removing the filter from your words, desperate pleas falling like dominos
Loved this part!
“Stop me if you’re uncomfortable. Even though I’m in charge, you’re in control. Okay, Sparkles?”
Oooh I like how this was phrased!
…his shoulders sagging a little as he kissed you back. It felt natural, almost as if the two of you had been kissing for years. It felt like coming home and you felt a blush rising up your neck.
↠ SYNOPSIS: There are a lot of things you hate about Hoseok, but he’s determined to change that.
↠ WARNINGS: pwp, sex in a public work bathroom, Hoseok has platinum hair (yes that should come with a warning), oral (f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), dirty talk, snarky banter during sex, they’re bad at feelings
↠ A/N: This is a drabble for the BTS Summer Bingo Event @bangtanwritingbingo with the prompt ‘Jung Hoseok’. A big shoutout to my fellow Hobi’s Hoes: the lovely Hope @hobi-gif for challenging me and beta reading this piece, and Ana @xjoonchildx for always being such a wonderful supporter. Love you ladies, this one’s for you!
It’s there, somewhere at the back of your mind—fuzzy, out-of-focus, the letters bleeding out like ink on paper: a list of all the things you hate about Jung Hoseok.
M!!! This was so good! I loved how you kept the hatred theme and how there were cracks in that tough exterior. It’s hard to dislike Hobi. I think you did a great job showing that internal battle throughout the fic. Thank you for writing
➭ “You’ve always stayed far away from the Kingsnakes, the coldblooded gang that runs the dark heart of your city. That is until your life collides with the intriguing and dangerous Jung Hoseok.”
** warnings: Graphic descriptions of injuries and violence, dark themes, gang activity, explicit drug references, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of death. and bathtub sex **
Sleep feels impossible tonight.
Every muscle in Hoseok’s body is locked in place, his eyes stare listlessly into the darkness of his room. No matter what he does, no matter how many times he swears under his breath and rolls over onto one side, he can’t fall asleep.
His mind is swirling with thoughts, thoughts that are unwanted and painful, thoughts infused with the question mark of what could’ve been, thoughts that start and end with your name on the tip of his tongue.
Hoseok has never been the type of person to reminisce on the past, largely due to his belief that reflection is unnecessary. You can’t turn back time and change the past, so why bother dwelling on it? But now, when the evening is fading into dawn, and the sky is awash with the milky blue of breaking daylight, Hoseok silently confesses that he chooses to ignore the past because it’s easier than confronting it.
The past is painful. Hoseok knows this better than anybody. He’s trained his mind to not think back on particular turning points of his life, he’s sharpened the skill of actively not remembering darker times. But ever since you came into his world, he can’t ignore his past anymore. Everything that he tried so hard to bury deep is rising to the surface.
Hoseok clutches the sheets in his hands and lets out another soft, “Fuck”. It does little to ease his racing thoughts. He thinks about you, how your eyes flash with hurt when he says things to you that are particularly cold and cruel. He thinks about how your voice sound when it whispers his name, the nape of your neck and the curve of your waist, the look of shock that painted over your features when he pressed his lips to yours for the first time.
“Stop it,” Hoseok mutters into the darkness, his voice harsh. Stop thinking about her.
Hoseok curses himself for his total lack of foresight, for his inability to see when something is good before it’s too late. He thinks he’s so cunning, so clever, when in reality he can’t see anything at all. He didn’t see you coming into his life, he didn’t see you changing his life, and he didn’t see you walking out of his life- until of course, it was too late.
Am I a bad person? The thought creeps in, and Hoseok sighs. He doesn’t know anymore. For a long time, he had just accepted that he was a bad person. Hoseok can’t recall all the times he’s done fucked up things, hurt people, received a sick sense of numbing satisfaction from affirming that yes, He had never considered the possibility that he was redeemable, that he may not be an intrinsically bad person. Until you.
Hoseok leans back on his bedframe, slumping forward until his head is in his hands. This hurts. This really, really hurts. It hurts, the way you eased into his heart with killer precision. He doesn’t know how to get you out. He doesn’t want to get you out.
Hoseok lifts his head and absently fumbles on his nightstand table for the pack of cigarettes he keeps there, his fingers catching on the box. He hesitates, before he finally throws the box, hard, across the room. A dramatic gesture perhaps, but Hoseok couldn’t give less of a fuck right now. Cigarettes spill out onto his bedroom floor and he swears again.
He looks at the clock, it reads 5:03AM. It’s 5AM, and he’s here, head in his hands, thinking about a woman who makes him feel a heady kind of hopefulness, a woman who taught him that there may be more to life than living fast and dying young.
Hoseok squeezes his eyes shut and weakly tells himself to stop being such a weak motherfucking bitch, that you have left his life and it’s for the better, that you’re just another memory to lock away and forget about.
He lies awake in bed until daylight breaks over the horizon.
Twenty years ago, on a Friday evening in the middle of December, Jung Hoseok fell in love with dancing.
It was a Friday, because Friday was always the day that his Mum liked to go grocery shopping. Every Friday was like clockwork – Hoseok trailing his mother around the store while she slowly, carefully picked out boxes and cans. It was always Friday, because Hoseok’s father stayed out on Friday nights, stumbling in the house late into the evening with the sharp smell of alcohol plumed around him like smoke.
It was during October, because the air was brisk when Hoseok slipped away from his mother and walked out of the store. It had felt like a thin film of ice was going to settle over his skin if he stayed outside for too long.
Hoseok was certain he’d always be able to remember it. The cold that brushed over his skin, the quiet hum of the store doors closing behind him, and there – on the concrete in front of the store, a group of guys.
They had a battered portable radio that was perched on the hood of an equally battered car, the crackly weak bass of a hip hop song filtered into the air. The group of guys were joking around, pushing each other and filling the beats of the song with their light, cloying jabs and insults – and they were dancing.
Hoseok had stared at them with wide eyes. Each movement they made was strong and bold, and they were entirely in control of their bodies. One guy, the one in the middle with a cap jammed over his hair and trackpants about two sizes too big for him, had a smile that he was struggling to contain. He was a man who was in control of each of his movements, a firm grip on the rhythm that coursed through body, controlled over everything except the smile that teased at his features.
Hoseok’s breath was coming out in puffs of cold into the night air and he wondered, right then and there, if he could be like that one day.
It was one of those, right time, right place sort of situations. The kind of scenario where everything pieces together so exactly, that it can only be due to a stroke of luck, a twist of destiny. A red thread of fate.
Hoseok was a few days from turning sixteen when he met Z.
His father had passed away the month prior. Hoseok had stood at his father’s funeral just last weekend, dressed in a rented suit that smelled like sweat and felt starchy on his skin, watching as people he had never met before shuffled through with tears dotted on their cheeks. Hoseok had looked up at the framed photo of his father that people were crying over, and he wondered what exactly they were crying for.
You’re nothing. His father’s voice floated into his thoughts. Hoseok squeezed his eyes shut, thinking about all the times his father had called him a loser, a coward, a ‘fucking pussy’, until finally just landing on the words that Hoseok had grown accustomed to hearing – ‘You’re nothing, Hoseok.’
Hoseok thought back to all the times he had seen his mother crying in the kitchen early in the morning when she thought the house was asleep, her hands bent in front of her, praying. Hoseok had always felt so tiny and powerless every time he heard his mother cry, every time his father’s fist went crunching into his cheek, every time the words You’re nothing echoed through his thoughts.
Hoseok’s eyes had fluttered open and a few funeral-goers stared at him, eyes sympathetic and pitying. His mother, standing beside him, was crying – his baby sister in her arms. Hoseok’s father was gone, but the pressure he put on the family remained. He was gone, but all these people were still crying. Hoseok looked at the tears tracking down everyone’s faces, at the photo of his father perched high in the funeral hall.
He didn’t cry.
It was that memory that lingered in Hoseok’s mind when Sungmin approached him after school and asked him if he was free to talk. He was the same age as Hoseok, they were in the same Geometry class, yet Hoseok had never exchanged more than two words with him.
Sungmin was something of a mystery, no one knew much about him. What Hoseok did know, however, was that Sungmin was always wearing a leather jacket that was two sizes too big for him, Sungmin was part of some newly established gang, and that Sungmin, for some reason, was standing on front of him now wanting to ‘talk’.
Sungmin was the same age as Hoseok but he felt older. He had an air of confidence about him, and he dug into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it. He offered it to Hoseok, and even though Hoseok had never so much as touched a cigarette in his life- he took it.
He held it gingerly in his fingers and took a drag, coughing at the feeling of smoke in his lungs. Sungmin just watched on, an amused smile on his face.
“Will you teach me how to breakdance?”
Hoseok had been momentarily surprised. Of all the questions he had been anticipating, it hadn’t been that one. What surprised him the most though, was how quickly he answered back, his response.
“Okay.”
Sungmin was a slow learner. He was a clumsy dancer. He also, surprisingly enough, evolved from classmate to friend.
Hoseok learned a lot about Sungmin when they met up after school. He learned that Sungmin wanted to learn how to dance because his girlfriend, Lorna, had mentioned she liked breakdancers. He learned that Sungmin had a short fuse and a tendency to spew filthy swear words when he couldn’t get a move right.
He learned that Sungmin’s chest puffed out in pride whenever he talked about his friends, the gang that he was currently being initiated into. ‘The Kingsnakes,’ Sungmin would say, struggling to keep a cool expression on his face, ‘That’s our name, by the way.’
Hoseok had learned that Sungmin, when he found something unbearably funny, slapped his hand over his mouth and laughed silently, shoulders shaking up and down.
He wasn’t sure when it happened, but it did – somewhere along the way he had become friends with the other boy. It was a realization he had when he was leaning against the wall of the warehouse one school night with Sungmin, smoking cigarettes and discussing whether it was worth staying in school, or dropping out.
“You never smoke them properly.” Sungmin had complained, pointing his cigarette butt at Hoseok accusingly. “You’ve gotta inhale. Yoongi taught me that.”
Hoseok wrinkled his nose, watching as the other boy took a deep drag, exhaling a mouthful of smoke with exaggerated confidence.
“Yoongi?”
Sungmin hummed in response. “Yep. He’s the leader of the Kingsnakes.”
Hoseok’s mouth opened into a small ‘o’. He stared at the cigarette in his hands, the glowing embers falling to the ground.
“Sungmin, will you introduce me to him? Yoongi, I mean.”
“Z,” Sungmin corrected. Hoseok looked up questioningly and Sungmin shrugged.
“Call me Z. It’s a new nickname I’m trying.”
“Loser.” Hoseok rolled his eyes and Sungmin grinned, staring at his friend thoughtfully.
Hoseok nodded, feeling a thrill start in his spine. He didn’t know why he was asking to meet Yoongi, he didn’t know why he was here with Sungmin, all he did know was that he felt good. He felt like he belonged, like he wasn’t a kid anymore, like he was taking charge of his life.
He picked up the cigarette and inhaled properly. It burned in his lungs and it made his head spin, he fought the urge to cough as he exhaled all the smoke. It cloaked his vision and somewhere through the haze, he heard the almost silent strains of Sungmin’s laughter.
Min Yoongi was not what Hoseok had expected. He had hair that was dyed an unnatural shade of ice blue, and eyes that gazed him up and down suspiciously upon first glance.
“Who’s this?”
Yoongi didn’t direct the question to him, glancing over instead at Z who was standing by Hoseok’s side.
“My friend. Wanted to meet you.”
And just like that, Yoongi’s eyes were back on him. Hoseok squirmed uncomfortably.
“Why did you want to meet me?”
Hoseok’s voice was pitchy, it gave away his nerves as he spoke.
“I was wondering if I could hang around with you guys.”
Yoongi just raised an eyebrow.
“…You guys?”
Hoseok’s face flushed and he nodded. “The… the Kingsnakes.”
For a long moment, Yoongi just stared at Hoseok, a perplexed expression on his face before he sighed.
“Yeah, whatever. You can hang round with us if you want.” Yoongi’s voice was bored, and Hoseok nodded eagerly.
“But if you’re going to do that, you need to understand that there’s nothing more important to me than loyalty. Whether you’re going to hang round for a little bit or longer, at the end of the day, all I ask for, and all I expect, is loyalty. Whatever you see, whatever goes down – it’s between us and us only. Understood?” He spoke slowly, still with that bored tone- but Hoseok didn’t miss the steeliness in his words.
“Yeah, I… I understand.”
He must have passed whatever test Yoongi was giving because the older boy relaxed, but kept eyeing him curiously.
“So, why do you want in with the Kingsnakes, kid? You want money, drugs, friends? What is it?”
Hoseok sensed Sungmin’s eyes on him too, and he shrugged.
“I just don’t want to feel like I’m nothing.” He said honestly, to which Yoongi just let out a soft hum in response.
After that, Hoseok’s life became something like a whirlwind of firsts.
The first kiss, exchanged at a Kingsnake party with some girl from another school who had crawled into his lap and kissed him.
The first time he had done drugs, a tiny bump of cocaine that he snorted while wedged between Yoongi and a few of the other members at a party.
The first time he skipped class, spending the day hanging around with some of the guys and getting high, enjoying it so much that he eventually stopped going to class altogether.
The first time he fucked a girl, thrusting into her, his body using hers, feeling invincible.
The first time Yoongi asked him to help out, to keep watch for a drug deal. That had also been the first time Yoongi had slapped his shoulder and grinned at him, telling him he was alright.
The first time Hoseok was handed an envelope stuffed with bills, feeling a rush of excitement because that money was his, he had earned it. It was the first time Hoseok felt secure, powerful, like maybe he had someplace where he belonged.
The first time a needle touched his skin, inking a snake onto his wrist. The first time his mother saw the tattoo and teared up, asking Hoseok if he was safe.
The first time he and a few of the guys beat up another guy for ratting on them. The first time he punched someone’s jaw. The first time he saw Z’s eyes flash with simmering lust, punching until Yoongi told him in a sharp tone, Enough.
The first time Hoseok felt uncertainty about his decision to join the Kingsnakes. The first time he questioned whether he had made the right choices, whether his past was doomed to repeat itself.
“Yoongi likes you.” Z muttered to him on the night of his eighteenth birthday. “He’s always picking you to be his backup him in deals and shit.”
The two had slipped outside for a cigarette, standing shoulder by shoulder in the brisk air. Lorna, Z’s girlfriend, had joined them at first before she too slipped back inside, complaining about the cold weather.
“Yoongi?” Hoseok echoed. Z just grunted. Hoseok cocked his head to the side, considered those words.
“You’re probably next in line to run the group, at this point.” Z added.
Hoseok had turned to his friend, whose face was lit only by the red embers. Ash fell to the ground and Hoseok shrugged in response. He felt good, his body was buzzed, he felt like something, like hewas something. He thought back on the tiny, frightened kid he used to be and a wry smile tugged on his lips.
“Nah. That’s all you, Sungmin.”
Z let out a loud scoff, reaching over and giving Hoseok a feeble punch. “You loser.” He laughed. “Come on, let’s go inside. It’s fucking freezing.”
A few weeks later, Hoseok stood outside Yoongi’s house, shivering and muttering complaints under his breath.
“Stupid motherfucking Min Yoongi asks me to drop something off and then doesn’t even answer the door,” Hoseok mumbled, walking down the driveway. “Fuck, it’s cold.” He paused once he got to his bike, sighing in annoyance as he turned around, walking directly past the front door and weaving his way through the gate.
He had been to Yoongi’s house several times, and when he got to the back door, it was, as expected, unlocked. He stepped into the house, holding the package under his arms. The house was quiet, his footsteps heavy on the floor.
“Hoseok?”
Yoongi padded out, dressed just in a pair of black jocks. “What are you- just, get out of here, I’m busy today.”
His voice was harsh and Hoseok cringed, throwing the package down on the kitchen table. “Yeah sorry, it’s all there, the delivery, the guy-”
“Yoongi?” A female voice cut faintly through Hoseok’s words. Hoseok froze.
He recognized that voice.
He glanced over at Yoongi questioningly and the stricken look on the other man’s face said it all.
“Yoongi…. Is that…” Hoseok breathed.
“Fuck,” Yoongi swore.
Hoseok closed and opened his mouth.
“Don’t say anything,” Yoongi asked in a low voice, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “You won’t say anything, Hoseok?” He looked up and for the first time Hoseok saw Yoongi not as the strong, invincible leader of the group but as he was – vulnerable and broken.
“Okay.” Hoseok muttered dumbly. Yoongi nodded and the two men stared at each other tensely before Hoseok turned and walked out of the back door.
He half expected Yoongi to come barreling behind him, but he was met with nothing but silence. He got to his motorcycle, still perched by the driveway.
Hoseok recognized that voice, husky and distinctive. Hoseok saw it in the panic that crossed over Yoongi’s face, the pleading tone of his voice.
It was Lorna. Z’s girlfriend.
“Fuck,” Hoseok muttered. “Fuck!”
Anger, fear, hot and uncomfortable emotion swelled in his chest as Hoseok kicked his bike.
The resounding pain that went through his leg just intensified the frustration, but there was nothing he could do about the pain. It was too late, and what had been done, was done.
Months later, it was summer. The days were long and hot, and the air felt still. It was the calm before the storm.
Hoseok spent the majority of his days in a sticky, clouded haze. He was stretched out on the couch, his mind comfortably blurry when he heard his front door slam open.
He didn’t bother locking it half the time, today was one of those days, and he glanced up blearily. It was Z, and Hoseok sat up, yawning.
“What’s up dude? Haven’t seen you round last few days.”
Z was agitated, Hoseok could sense it from the moment that he walked in the room. Z didn’t respond immediately, pacing back and forth before he finally flopped down on the chair opposite Hoseok.
“Found out that Min fucking Yoongi was screwing my girlfriend behind my back.”
Hoseok’s blood turned to ice.
Z let out an emphatic, “Fuck” before he sighed, leaning back on the chair.
“I… how?” Hoseok asked, his voice sounding faint to his own ears.
Z didn’t answer, his eyes closed. “Does it matter?”
“Where…. Where is Yoongi now? Have you talked to him?”
Z opened one eye. A smile spread across his face, and he shrugged.
“That’s just the thing. I was going to talk to him about it, but you’ll never believe it. Turns out there was an oxygen bubble in his bloodstream. He’s dead.”
Dead?
Hoseok could hear the blood in his ears. Z closed his eyes again and shrugged.
“Freak accident. Crazy, right?”
Hoseok’s throat was dry. He sunk back down onto the couch, his head spinning.
And there it was. The sound of Z’s silent, dry laughter. Hoseok could recognize it anywhere. Hoseok felt dread start to pool in the pit of his stomach as Z spoke, his words low and dangerous like the rattle of a snake.
“There’s nothing more important than loyalty, right?”
Hoseok didn’t answer, pushing off of the couch.
“Need a cigarette.” He mumbled. He knew it was a stupid excuse, for God’s sake he smoked in his house, but he needed fresh air. He needed to clear his stupid, clouded, jumbled thoughts, because Yoongi was dead. Yoongi was dead. Hoseok’s mind was racing with thoughts as he pushed open his front door and walked down the driveway.
An oxygen bubble? In his bloodstream?
Hoseok’s hands were trembling as he walked down his street, he furtively glanced behind his shoulder to ensure no one was tailing him. He pulled out his phone, holding it to his ear. The moment it clicked, he spoke.
“Lorna, Yoongi’s dead.”
There was a shocked silence on the end of the line. Hoseok didn’t let it linger, speaking rapidly.
“Get out of here, okay?”
He heard a choked sound on the other line, an almost animal like cry. He didn’t dwell on it, he squeezed the phone tighter, feeling his heart thump in his chest.
“Lorna, do you understand me? Get the fuck out of here, alright?”
She was crying, and Hoseok hung up, his hands trembling.
He had no idea why he had done that, he didn’t owe Lorna anything. He didn’t owe anyone anything. Except Z.
Z. Hoseok stood, frozen, as he looked behind his shoulder again. The street was empty, but he felt a hum of paranoia and fear race through his veins as he turned off his phone, trying to settle his shaking hands as he turned and walked back into the house.
He walked back inside his living room, feeling his muscles tense up. Z was still sitting in that same chair, he didn’t look up as Hoseok returned to the couch.
“So, we’ve got the Deckard deal next week. You’ll help?” Z began, and Hoseok glanced up. Their eyes met and Hoseok swallowed.
You can still run, Hoseok.
He nodded.
I can’t run.
“Good.” Z glanced back at the TV and Hoseok stared at him. He and Z were friends. He owed Z, it was Z who had pulled him into the web of the Kingsnakes, it was that web that had given him power, money, helped him pull himself and his family out of debt.
Hoseok negotiated in his head that really, nothing had changed. The Kingsnakes would remain the same, even with Z at the helm. That Yoongi’s death really was a freak accident. Things wouldn’t worsen, they couldn’t.
I won’t run.
“Hoseok, you didn’t know about Yoongi and Lorna, did you?”
Hoseok felt his heart stutter. His stomach twisted, as he looked up, meeting Z’s gaze.
“No, I didn’t.”
I can’t run.
Z smiled, satisfied, and nodded. “Good.”
I can’t fucking run.
Hoseok sat still, feeling utterly paralyzed. For the first time in years, he felt that insidious, horrible feeling inside of his chest, that voice, telling him that he was nothing. And the red thread of fate that tied him as a ten year old kid to dancing had been cut.
It was replaced by the black threads of the Kingsnakes, woven tightly around him until he could no longer breathe.
The moment you enter Taehyung’s hospital room, you gasp.
A sharp, involuntary intake of breath that draws everyone’s attention on you. Your eyes scan over the room – at Ara, who gazes at you with an expression that is saturated with disappointment and hurt, at the police officers who eye you with suspicion, at a nurse who hones in on you as soon as you enter.
“I’m sorry, but you’re outside of visiting hours.” Her clipboard is tucked under her arm, her hair slicked back into a low bun. “Only direct family are permitted here, you’ll have to come back tomorrow.”
“She is family.”
The voice interrupts before you can respond. It’s Taehyung. Your eyes meet his and he smiles tiredly at you.
Your heart gives out in your chest when you see him, at the faded bruised rings that mar his face, at the way his chest heaves delicately with each breath.
“She’s not-” Ara begins, but Taehyung just continues to speak.
“She’s family. Nurse,” Taehyung glances away to smile politely at the nurse. “Could I have five minutes with her?”
The nurse grumbles, you hear the soft strains of her voice and Ara’s but eventually, she nods. The police officers stand up and leave first, their eyes beady and intent on you as they shuffle out of the room, before the others follow. You try to meet Ara’s gaze but she stares away from you pointedly, and you feel a twist in your chest.
Finally, the room is empty. You glance at Taehyung, he smiles at you and nods to the chair that is perched beside his bed. “Sit down.”
Your legs feel wooden as you walk over, lowering yourself into the plastic chair.
The room elapses into silence, a silence that is broken only by the quiet electronic beat of Taehyung’s heart monitor.
“Tae-”
“Are you-”
You both start speaking at once, faltering when your voices overlap. Taehyung chuckles, shifts in bed. “You go first.”
You glance up, meeting Taehyung’s eyes. He looks so frail like this, mottled splashes of purple fading beneath his skin, pale lips, a smile on his face. Your eyes linger on the IV drip that threads into his skin and you swallow.
“I’m sorry.”
You whisper the words like they’re a secret.
Taehyung clicks his tongue softly. “What are you apologizing for?”
“I… what happened to you, I-”
“What happened is just a case of wrong time, wrong place. Nothing more than that. Just some thugs who were high on drugs and wanted some quick cash.”
Taehyung speaks quickly, his voice low and calm and you shake your head, tears beginning to strain at the back of your throat. Taehyung’s voice rises a little, speeds up a touch, “Really, it was just bad luck. Thank God for insurance, right? The doctors said I’ll heal up in no time too so-“
”Tae.” You say his name and Taehyung falls silent. “It was the Kingsnakes. They-”
“I know it was them.”
A silence settles between the two of you and Taehyung’s fingers, trembling, run over the IV drip in the centre of his hand. For the first time since it was just the two of you in this room, Taehyung looks away. You keep your eyes on him, seeing the rapid blink of his eyes, the way his lips move as if he’s talking silently. He’s trying not to cry, trying to hold himself together even now when his body is on the brink of falling apart. Your chest aches and the raw ache at the back of your throat intensifies.
“I’m not going to tell the police anything about them. I haven’t. And I won’t.”
“Taehyung, you didn’t have to do that.”
“Yeah,” Taehyung’s voice is hoarse. “I did. I’m not saying a word. I’m not putting you in danger. There’s no evidence. It’s better to not say anything.”
“Taehyung this is serious.” The words come out harsher than intended and Taehyung finally looks up again, his eyes uncharacteristically steely.
“I know it’s not a game. It’s your life, and…” His eyes are wet with tears and he looks so young that your heart twists and tears finally start threatening to spill in your eyes, because this is Taehyung, the Taehyung you have known since you were a kid, the Taehyung who was always older and cooler and never afraid of anything, “…the thought of your life being at risk… I can’t, I just can’t.”
He swallows hard and stares determinedly at the grey hospital blanket draped over his lap. You feel a twist right in your gut, a pain like a knife slicing through butter.
Taehyung, staring down at the ground, his eyes wavering with tears that he is fighting to hold back, the steady beep of his heart-rate monitor, the sterile smell of the hospital filling your nostrils and locking around you hard and fast.
It feels like your mind is going a million miles a minute, different emotions tugging you into different places. You think about Taehyung, who is protecting you even now, who is doing the wrong thing for you. Guilt in the sharpest sense needles at you.
You think about the fists that crunched with a ferocity you’ll never know right into the small of Taehyung’s face, of the half burned down gallery that now sits in your city, of X’s flat eyes staring into you. It’s a world you don’t understand, that you don’t belong in, a world that has grasped onto you and no matter how hard you want to, you can’t seem to shake off yourself. You feel fear, a rendering of fear so awful and deep-settled that you can’t shake it away.
The sound of Taehyung shifting in place has you breaking out of your reverie.
Taehyung sighs. He reaches up and then stops, he is unable to run his fingers through his shaggy fringe. He stares at the thick, alabaster plaster wrapped around his hand.
“I just…” His voice is raspy, he swallows hard. “Do you love him?”
You gaze at Taehyung and you can see it etched right there in the slightest quiver of his lips. All of the ways a soul can hurt, scatterd there like kisses or bruises.
Taehyung is composed of light and clarity. Hoseok is the utter opposite - he is the tiniest of moans that escapes your lips when he presses his mouth to the shell of your ear, he is a heady and wickedly uncontrollable tempo, he is a dark place where you can unravel new threads, pieces of you that you had alwys been too afraid to confront in the past.
While everyone else is safety, Hoseok is freedom.
Taehyung smiles at you. Barely - the slightest twinge of his lips, a crease of his eyes. You are sure it hurts, that reassuring smile painted on a face as sore and bruised as his. But he smiles anyway, because he is Taehyung. And for a moment your heart aches, because it occurs to you how easy it would be to love somebody as safe and sweet as Kim Taehyung.
“Yes.” You keep your eyes steady on Taehyung. You feel your heart constrict, because is it a cop out, to rattle out the words ‘you can’t choose who you love?’ if you could choose to love Hoseok, would you? You think about him, Hoseok and his dark, desperate eyes when you had turned away from him just hours ago. If you could choose who you love, would you still choose him?
Your chest is tight, and you think to yourself that if someone could crack open your body, they would likely find a kingsnake coiled in between your ribs, its body wrapped firmly around your heart.
“Yes,” You murmur. “I love him.”
You glance up to see Taehyung’s reaction. He looks up, stares at you. His face is carefully passive, his eyes searching yours for a split second before he speaks.
“Does he love you?”
It’s a question that catches you offguard. You stay still for a moment, your mouth closes and opens.
“I… I don’t know,” You answer honestly. A corner of your heart peels backwards, sings out silently that he does, I hope he does.
“Do you trust him?”
Taehyung keeps his eyes on yours and you nod.
“I do.” Your voice breaks off into a small, sad laugh. “I don’t know if I can trust myself, though.”
Taehyung doesn’t speak immediately, the beep of his monitor feels the space.
“Trust your instincts,” He says finally. You think to yourself that you can’t, that you can’t trust yourself, your heart, even your mind.
“I’m scared to.” The words come out as the barest of whispers as tears prick your eyes. Taehyung leans forward and his bandaged hand brushes against your wrist.
“Don’t be scared of trusting yourself.” He says softly. “I know a lot of people in my position wouldn’t tell you this. Usually, when a guy loves a girl, the last thing they want is to see her with somebody else.” His eyes flicker, he glances at you and you understand what he’s trying to tell you. His eyes search yours for a split second, looking for something, before his face breaks into a small, sad smile.
“Look… if there’s something there, a spark, a feeling, a flame… don’t throw it away because of fear. The only person who truly knows your heart is you. The only person who truly owns your heart is you. So… trust yourself, okay?”
Tears drip down your cheeks. You nod, your bottom lip wobbles, you tell yourself not to cry but the tears only drip faster and fatter down your cheeks.
“Okay.”
Your voice is strained and thick with tears, and you glance up at Taehyung. His eyes are wet too, and you stand up, leaning forward to wrap your arms around your friend.
Taehyung’s hair brushes your cheek and you can tell he’s crying from the wet tears that drip onto your shoulder. You can feel it when you are standing this close to him, how much pain he’s holding inside, how much fear and loss.
You are full of blame, guilt and confusion, but you stay close to Tae, holding him in a hug. Telling him, in a way that only you can with somebody you’ve known as long as you’ve known Kim Taehyung, that you’re sorry.
You pull away and Taehyung’s tears have subsided, as have your own.
“I just… This s a whole other league, and I… just be careful. Of them. Of all of it. Be careful. You know that, right?“
You don’t miss the worry that infuses Taehyung’s tone. You reach out and hold his hand. The plaster is rough under your palm and you nod, tears spilling down your cheeks.
“I know.”
Once you are outside of the hospital, you cradle your phone in your hands.
Logically, you know that the smart thing to do is to put your phone back in your pocket and to go home. The right thing to do on paper is to write off Hoseok as just a fleeting mistake, to turn away from him for good.
But you can’t. You don’t want to.
You think about Taehyung’s words, about the spark, and the flame, and you think about Jung Hoseok. You don’t know what is it about him, but you don’t want to let go of it. You don’t want to let go of him. And it is that thought that you have in mind as you press dial and lift the phone to your ear.
The phone rings out and you feel your mouth go slack with nerves.
“Hey.” Hoseok’s voice is cautious as he answers, you swallow.
“Can I see you?”
There’s a silence across the line and then Hoseok clears his throat.
“Uh… okay. I’m at my place, do you want to come over? Or I can meet you-”
“Your place is fine. Can you text me the address?”
You hear Hoseok swallow, mumble out a soft “Sure”. You tell him you’ll see him soon, as you hang up and hail a taxi, wondering if the decision you’re making is the right one.
The drive isn’t long, you are wrapped up in your thoughts about Hoseok and the gravity of the situation. You pull up to Hoseok’s house, and see him sitting on his front step. He’s dressed casually, a black tee and black jeans, and he stands up when you approach.
“Why are you here?”
His question is careful and you stop in front of him.
“You said you don’t lose me.” You say quietly, and Hoseok nods. “I don’t want to lose you either. I just… feel scared when I think about what exactly I’m losing. Is it the real you, or the you I want you to be?”
Hoseok stares at you and then glances away, his eyes downcast.
“The real me isn’t great.” He says in a short voice. “But with you I was… I was always the real me. If that’s what you’re asking.”
The two of you just stare at one another and Hoseok sighs.
“Is your friend okay?”
“He’s not going to say anything to the police if that’s what-”
“Hey. I wasn’t going to ask that. I was asking because I actually want to know.”
Hoseok has one eyebrow raised and you falter.
“You actually care about him?”
You can’t help but sound bitter.
“I care about you, so, yeah. I guess I do care about him.”
Hoseok’s words has your resolve crumpling, and the composed expression slips from Hoseok’s face as he steps forward.
“Hey, I…” Hoseok bites his lip. “Fuck, I’m the worst with this kind of thing. I…” His voice raises with each word and then he pulls you into his arms in an uncertain hug. You inhale him, feel his arms encircle you, crying into the crook of his shoulder. Hoseok just runs a hand along the centre of your back in circles, until finally, the tears subside.
You pull away from him and Hoseok peers down at you. “You look exhausted.” Hoseok says brusquely, “Have you slept? Showered?”
You shake your head, and Hoseok nods. “Look. Come in, do all of that stuff, and then we can talk about whatever… okay?”
“Okay.”
Hoseok whirls around and walks up the stairs to his house, and you follow.
“Bathroom’s down that way, kitchen’s through the hall if you want something to eat. Alright?” Hoseok looks uncertain for a moment and you nod, heading to the bathroom.
You close the door behind you and stare at your reflection, feeling your frayed nerves start to settle. You turn the tap on for the bathtub, letting the small bathroom fill up with steam, your thoughts slowing and your breathing evening out as you pull off your clothes and turn off the tap, lowering yourself into the tub. The water is hot, soothing, and it pulls away at the tension gathered inside of your chest.
“You alright?” Hoseok’s voice calls out from the hallway, and you glance at the closed door.
“Can you come in for a second?” You call out, and the door opens. You hug your legs to your chest, covering yourself as Hoseok walks in.
“What did you think when I walked up to you the first time we met?”
“Honest answer?”
You nod. Hoseok tilts his head to one side, staring at you before he lets out a sigh.
“I thought you were trying really hard to prove something to yourself.” He murmurs. “I thought you were hot too.” He adds, smiling faintly for a second.
“But you didn’t care about me then, right? At the start?”
Hoseok bites his lip. You rush to fill in the spaces.
“Honest answer again, please.”
Hoseok gazes at you and nods slowly. “At the start, yeah. I didn’t.”
“So what changed from then to now? What makes how you felt about me then, different to how you felt about me now?”
Hoseok leans against the bathroom wall, swallows. “I don’t really know what it is.” He says eventually. “But the more I got to know you, the more things changed. I like how being with you makes me feel. I care about you and I want you to be safe and happy. I miss you when you’re not with me. I don’t want to just fuck you, I… dunno, wanna spend time with you.”
You don’t answer, staring at Hoseok.
“I’m scared.” You whisper. You don’t explain what you are scared of. You don’t put into words that you’re scared of loving him, that you’re scared of trusting him, of being vulnerable. That even though you’re scared, you still want him.
“I’m scared too.” Hoseok responds. “Of a lot of things, actually. But I feel less scared when I’m with you.”
His voice breaks and he shakes his head. “Sorry, that was cheesy as fuck.” He mutters, but a smile slips across his face.
The honesty in his words takes you by surprise and you hug your knees to your chest. He tilts his head back, and you stare at him and try to remember how to breathe. Because like this, when he’s standing in front of you, eyes creased in the corners, a smile soaked in an effortless, easy kind of happiness, arms folded and those clavicles peeking out from the neck of his black tee… you haven’t taken a breath, you can’t take a breath.
“I…” Your voice speaks of its own accord, his eyes hone in on yours and you let out a shaky mouthful of air, the words tumble out before you can quite stop them, “Join me.”
Hoseok pauses and his eyes flicker over to the tub that you are perched in. You have slept with him what feels like countless of times, you have the imprint of Hoseok’s bare body stamped in your mind, but there is something about this moment right now that has the breath seeping out of you and a tremble deep in your bones.
Hoseok doesn’t speak, he just clears his voice.
“Really?”
You nod, draw your knees in to your chest. Hoseok gazes at you for a prolonged moment, and then reaches behind his body, his fingers grasping at the back of his tee to pull it off of his head in one clean motion.
You see it- the flex of his torso, his taut, lean stomach, the dip of his collarbones and his fingers as they tug off his black jeans. You’ve seen it, you know it, but still your heart hammers hard and fast in your chest.
Hoseok pulls off his pants, revealing his thighs, strong and muscled. His hips, they twist as he throws his clothes carelessly in the corner of the bathroom, he steps towards the bathtub and steps in until he is seated opposite you.
You immediately close the space, inch closer to him until your knees are touching, and he lets out a soft sigh. You watch as he reaches up and runs a hand through his hair, the water keeps his hair slicked back and off his forehead.
He cocks his head down at you.
“You’re an idiot.” He murmurs, but there is no malice in his words. Instead, he sounds oddly breathless, his voice so husky and soft that you can only just make out the words.
“I’m an idiot?” You repeat, your features wrinkling into a delicately affronted expression.
Hoseok nods, his face is a mixture of emotions that you place for split seconds, like rolling waves, one replacing the other – intensity, vulnerability, tenderness, affection.
He cards his fingers through his hair, shakes his fringe out of his eyes, the snake on his wrist disappears under the water’s surface.
You feel your breath catch in your throat, a tremble working its way up your thighs and locking tight around your stomach like a band. He hovers in front of you, oozing a dark and dangerous charisma. Your eyes linger over his shoulders, the curve of his collarbones, his taut stomach.
Neither of you speak. You just stare at one another. Here, seated opposite one other in an old, cracked bathtub, it feels as if time is still.
He reaches out and presses his palms gently, carefully, around your face. His fingers skim over your jaw, until he is holding you in his hands and his eyes are searching yours. He is looking for protest that you don’t give, before he finally leans in.
Hoseok kisses you slowly. It’s something you aren’t used to with him – you are accustomed to hurried, hungered kisses. This is slow, languid almost- his lips careful and a bit clumsy against yours, his palms still cupping your face. Right there into the curve of your lips he lets out a sigh and his body relaxes.
At the sound of it- the throaty sigh of release deep from within his belly, you lean in closer, chasing into the feel of his lips. Hoseok responds, his hands sliding from your cheeks to rake into your hair.
It occurs to you in a fleeting thought just how well he can read you now, how your body responds almost instinctively to his.
The water splashes quietly against the side of the tub as his hands comb through your hair down to the centre of your back. He tugs you closer to him so that your body folds on top of his, he stretches his legs out along the expanse of the tub.
His skin glides against yours underneath the water, you begin to feel a slow knock between your legs as his hands massage intently against the small of your back. You let out a tiny groan and pull away for a moment to glance at him – Hoseok, his hair wet and slicked off of his face, droplets of water on his skin.
His hands are still tight against the slip of your waist, he kneads his fingers harder into the curve right above your ass and you let out a tiny, stuttered moan. Your face is only inches away from Hoseok’s and he keeps his eyes locked on yours, his breath ghosting over your lips.
“Do you want me?”
It’s a simple question, his voice low and tilting, but for once there is no teasing note at the end of his words, the smirk gone from his lips. Your breath shudders out, you can feel your lust knocking between your legs as you stare into his dark eyes. His face is utterly serious, his eyes dark with desire and intensity.
“Yes,” You breathe out, and Hoseok’s eyes flicker, his tongue licks over his lips.
“Yes,” You repeat, watching as a muscle in his jaw twitches. He lets out a tiny groan and captures your lips in another kiss.
You kiss him back hungrily, letting out moans in between kisses as Hoseok pulls your body even closer to his, growls against your lips as his hands curve around to cup your ass.
Hoseok breaks away from your mouth, he doesn’t stop, his mouth trailing down and stamping hot kisses along the curve of your jaw, down the slope of your neck. You are trembling, the thud between your legs dangerous and familiar as you adjust your hips.
Letting out a soft whine, you rock your hips, feeling the smooth friction of his thigh against your cunt.
A loud moan spills out of your mouth at the feeling of contact against your sensitive core, at the barest thread of pleasure and relief it offers. You grind against him harder, it only makes the ache worsen, and Hoseok lets out a growl right into the base of your ear.
“You’re such a fucking tease,” He says in a low voice. “Hmm? Rubbing that pretty cunt all over me?”
You breathe in sharp and quick at the sound of his voice, raspy in your ear, the grip of his fingers on your ass. He smirks when he hears the ragged whine that escapes your lips as you swallow hard.
He reaches between your bodies and his hand slides over your inner thigh. You let out a begging sound, the ache growing more intense between your legs.
“I want you, Hoseok,” You choke out and Hoseok lets out a low hum, pressing his body closer to yours.
The water laps at the sides of the tub as he nears closer to you, his mouth inches from yours, his palm still flat on the inside of your thigh.
The sides of his knuckles graze at your sensitive core and your breath pitches in, lust pooling in your body. You tilt your hips upwards, desperate to feel more of his touch against you.
Hoseok’s dark eyes stare into yours, his hair wet, drops of water slowly sliding down his face. Your heart is hammering your chest, your thighs tensed, your core aching and throbbing for him. Hoseok leans in and presses his lips to yours carefully, as his fingers inch closer.
The tip of his pinky carefully caresses over your slit and you fall apart into his kiss.
“Sit up.”
He murmurs it into your lips and you hesitate, pausing before he says it again, more forcefully.
“Sit up would you?”
“W-why?”
“Just… just sit on the edge of the tub. That end, princess.” His voice is impatient, but softens as he uses the nickname. You push yourself off of him reluctantly and stand, sitting down on the edge of the tub with your back against the wall.
As your back touches the cold tile, Hoseok heads towards you.
His hands brush over your ankles in the water, his palms smoothing over your calves. Your breath rushes in as he slowly moves up your legs, until his palms are canvassing your inner thighs, his fingertips grazing carefully over your pussy.
Your back is stiff, desperately arched, as Hoseok glides his hands back down your legs. It feels as if your entire body is on edge, wanting him to touch you, the gnawing ache between your legs wicked and intense.
His fingers journey up over your inner calves, your thighs, resting by your knees before he pushes.
You glance down, taking in the visual of your legs spread, Hoseok between your thighs.
You swallow hard, a new punch of lust searing through your body.
“H-Hoseok,” You stammer out his name and Hoseok gazes right at you, his lips quirked into that same slow smirk, his eyes intent on yours.
“Yes?” He murmurs, leaning down and pressing his lips teasingly to your knee.
“I…” Your voice thins as he inches forward, presses his lips against the soft skin of your hip. You tremble as Hoseok places his hands on the inside of both of your thighs, spreading your legs apart wider.
You can’t think of words, your thoughts fading out into an incorrigible mess of emotions as Hoseok leans in, his words come out softly against your spread cunt.
“Is there something you’re trying to say?” He gazes up at you from between your legs.
Your breath comes out in ragged gasps, the knock between your legs intense and all consuming. Hoseok gazes right at you, dark eyes tracked on your face, his mouth only centimetres away from your pussy. Fuck.
You press your head against the back of the wall, clench your thighs, let out a shaky breath. The word breezes out between your lips.
“Please…”
Hoseok lets out a moan and glances down, staring at your core.
“God,” He mutters softly, “I love hearing you beg.” He swallows before he leans in even closer.
His tongue wetly traces up your slit. The sensation of his tongue against you has you twitching your hips, your hands grip the edge of the porcelain tub. Hoseok’s tongue, tasting all up of your wetness, ends by your clit, you cry out as he hums, pulling himself away.
“Feel good?”
His voice barely registers as his tongue finds your pussy yet again. He presses the flat of his tongue against your clit, tracing down your inner thigh. His tongue is coaxing, flicking slow patterns around your clit. You throb from how good it feels, his mouth on you, Hoseok between your legs letting out soft moans, his shoulders flexing as he reaches up and slides his finger into your walls.
You feel your belly start to coil tightly as Hoseok pushes the entirety of his finger slick into you. His tongue continues to work needy circles around your pussy as he pushes his finger in and out of you.
The rhythm is slow at first, teasing, the rock of his finger fucking you out and the lapping of his tongue against your folds. The sensation of him pushing his finger inside of you has you gasping, your legs stiffening, while the softness of his tongue has your deep-seated urgency unravelling at the seams.
You tip your head back hard against the wall as Hoseok slips another finger inside of you. His thumb darts in to massage teasingly around your clit, his touch is hard and punishing, almost making you cry at the sensitivity before his tongue is there to gloss over the ache.
“I’m going to cum,” You pant out, turning your head to the side so that your cheek is pressed flat against the cool ceramic tile of the bathroom wall.
Hoseok doesn’t stop, he rubs his thumb against your clit harder, works his tongue deeper into you.
The back and forth has your back stiffening desperately, the throb causing your mouth to fall open as the high rides over your body, breaking in euphoric waves as you moan out his name.
“Fuck!” Your voice shakes as Hoseok tilts his head back, his eyes on yours as he sits up, still between your legs.
You let out a strangled, wanton moan, your orgasm washing over your skin as Hoseok chases into you, his lips close to yours when he whispers, “You look so hot when you cum…” He lets out a possessive moan as he kisses you, deep and long before he groans out, “I want to fuck you.”
His words make you moan. Your eyes flutter open as you gaze at him. The glow of your orgasm, and him, hair wet, mouth glossy with your wetness, the lust hungry in his eyes, has something snapping inside of you.
“Fuck me,” You breathe out, “I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk.”
Hoseok’s hands grip around your thighs at your words as he tugs you down until you are back in the tub, the water splashing as he kisses you deep and rough, his tongue domineering as his hands squeeze your hips so hard that you can’t help but gasp breathlessly into the kiss.
He breaks away and kisses down your jaw hard, peppering his mouth against your neck and against your pulsepoint. You whine as his lips clamp down at your neck, sucking at the skin there before he jerks his head up, his lips by your ear.
“Turn around.” His demand is spoken lowly and you feel a shaky spin of lust and excitement grip you as you turn around, no longer facing him.
Hoseok immediately crooks his body behind yours, his hands roaming your front, grabbing at your breasts and squeezing hard. His fingers find your nipple and he skims over your hard nipple with his fingertips, teasing out a choked moan for you as he pinches down, his lips at your ear again.
“You missed me fucking you like this?”
He reaches up between your breasts, one hand on your neck, the other shifting to your left breast, stroking your nipple as you nod desperately, breathing out a shaky, fevered yes.
He pulls away, his palm is on your back and you move, shifting until you are bent forward. The tile is hard against your knees and Hoseok lets out a growl, moving so that he is directly behind you.
You feel as if you are unraveling, your body tensed and desperate for him to fuck you. The tip of his cock is right at your slit, and you shake.
“Please,” You moan out, your lean forward, propping your ass up higher in the air, wanting, needing him to fuck you.
“Fuck, I love hearing you beg for it,” Hoseok murmurs in a throaty voice and the words spill out desperate and heavy as you arch your back even more.
“Please fuck me, God, I’ll do anything, please-”
He pushes himself inside of you mid-sentence and you break off into a loud moan, feeling his cock stretch you out, his hips snapping into you hard and fast.
You can hear him groaning in your ear at the feeling of your walls around him, and the fullness of him inside of you as you mewling out in pleasure.
Hoseok doesn’t give you time to fully settle into the feeling of his cock as he slams his hips against yours, snapping his hips upward so that you feel all of him inside of you, you whine at the pain of it, the satisfying hum of pleasure as he groans, right into the shell of your ear.
“You feel so fucking good, God.” He thrusts harder, deeper, and you feel your breath hitch in.
“And you tasted so fucking good.” His voice is rough, hoarse as he keeps fucking into you. He thrusts hard, making your body sway, and the sensation of it has your walls clenching. The waves of pleasure are still faintly ebbing through your body from your earlier orgasm, but the pleasure builds in a new, duller, deeper anticipation at each punishing snap of his hips.
“Hoseok, harder,” You moan out his name, each heavy breath seems louder in the bathroom, the water splashes as he stutters out a moan, thrusting inside of you even deeper.
It feels so good, him crooked around your body, fucking you so hard and so deep that it feels like all you can think about is him. You pant out his name, your voice husky and breathless from the intensity of his cock slamming into you so deep and filling you whole.
“Fuck, you’re gonna make-”
“Cum inside of me, please.” Your breath rushes over his, the feeling tightening in your stomach as Hoseok lets out a groan at your words. He leans forward, tilts his hips and fucks into you harder, ruthlessly, before his body staggers forward as he cums inside of you.
You feel a wave of satisfaction wash over you as Hoseok’s body shakes from the force of his orgasm, his thrusts slowing.
It feels as if the space between the two of you is electric, everything is magnified – the water against your skin, the sounds of Hoseok’s ragged pants, the soft, pleased hum that is fighting it’s way from the back of your throat.
You feel light, like you’re floating, as Hoseok’s body starts forward, his muscles relaxing as he moans into your hair.
“Fuck,” He mutters, he presses his lips against the back of your head. “Wow. I thought I was gonna black out for a second there.”
He pushes himself backwards and you turn until you’re sitting and facing him. Hoseok has a blissed out, relaxed smile on his face as he leans forward.
“Your knees,” He tuts, the porcelain of the tub has left your kneecaps pink and his fingers brush over them in a surprisingly tender gesture.
You both sit like that for a moment, facing one another, your ragged breathing slowing and evening out. You feel thoroughly fucked out and so satisfied that it crackles over your skin.
Hoseok is the first to move, he stirs, pushing off of the tub until he is standing. He reaches above his head and stretches, before he steps out of the tub.
“C’mere,” He glances over at you and outstretches a hand.
You gaze at him, the softness that has settled properly into his face. You feel it bubbling up in your throat, thumping through your veins. You gaze at Hoseok’s outstretched hand, at the snake’s tail that curls around his wrist, and you think about everything that you have tried so hard to fight, to run away from.
You grasp Hoseok’s hand and stand up.
“Remember the time you tried to run away from my place by escaping through the bathroom?” You ask suddenly as you step out of the tub. Hoseok just lets out a wry laugh in response, as you step over until you are facing him.
“Shh,” He mumbles, reaching up and pulling you in until you are in his arms. A tiny gasp escapes your lips and Hoseok leans in closer, an amused smile playing on his lips.
“Do I really have that effect on you?” He asks, a hint of a laugh in his voice as he mimics your gasp. He dips his head closer, and you feel the jackhammer drum beat of your heart from being so close to him, from the intensity of his gaze.
“No,” You lie, and Hoseok’s face opens into a proper smile, as bright and golden and warm as the sun.
“Uh huh,” He responds in a dry tone, as he opens the cabinet behind your head. He pulls out a fluffy white towel and wraps it tightly around your shoulders.
He runs a hand through his wet hair as he stands in front of you, his eyes crinkling in the corner as his smile fades.
He stares at you, his face serious, his eyes locked on yours like he is memorizing every single inch of your face, travelling it like a map.
He reaches forward, his hands loop around the small of your back as he pulls you into his arms.
His lips find yours with that same rushed assurance that you’ve come to recognize as Hoseok’s signature. He rushes into it, his mouth chasing into yours hungrily, and you let out an involuntary sigh into his lips. His palms press flat against the curve of your waist, you can feel the heat of his body, the towel still wrapped tightly around your body.
You reach up and cup his face with one palm. You slow the kiss down, right down, until you are kissing him at a pace that is languid and slow. You feel your heart beat louder and faster in your chest, relinquishing in it – the feel of his strong body holding onto you, his lips, the way he matches your rhythm.
His hands flutter up to gently, carefully cup your face in his hands. The kiss deepens, enough to have you sighing and feeling as if your entire world is spinning.
You aren’t thinking anything, you aren’t feeling anything, all you are aware of his him, the boy kissing you sweetly and tenderly, drops
️summary: hoseok comes home in the middle of the night and it doesn’t take long for you to realize something is wrong. very, verywrong.
️pairing: reader x mafia!hoseok
️rating: mature, 18+
️genre: smut, mafia AU, guarded AU drabble though it can be read as a standalone story
️warnings: standard smut warnings, feelings because apparently i know no other way
️word count: 1.7K
️notes: i’ve had in mind to write a series of these drabbles for the guarded AU involving all of the original story characters. all returning home from the same terrifying night on the job, each processing the trauma a bit differently. as always, thank you for reading and please talk to me about it! of course, i couldn’t have written or posted this without the help and guidance of @ladyartemesia@btsarmy9593and@hobi-gifthank you so much ladies. also a big thank you to the very sweet @diorggukie who was so kind to answer my questions!
He comes to you in the dead of night.
The bed dips under his weight as he slips quietly beneath the covers, pressing the length of his body to yours. You start to rouse when he wraps himself around you – firm chest at your back, strong forearm banded over your waist – and you open your eyes to darkness, disoriented.
“Hoseok?” You call out to him, not quite awake and not quite asleep.
No answer.
“Baby?”
Still no answer.
The fear comes over you slowly, pulsing from your legs to your chest to your arms. Finally then to your brain, sounding the alarm inside your head as the pieces start to fall into place.
I started this story a while ago when the reader is cursed and must repeat the same day over and over again. In the story Hoseok is madly in love with her but she just uses him for sex. I think Namjoon is her personal assistant and Taehyung is her friend. If anyone finds a story similar please tag me.
¼ of the amazing quartet, i will do the other 3 in due time! i love my queen, i live for her werewolf au, plus there’s always the right mix of angst, fluff, and smut that is always chefs kiss… i super like that although her male characters are so obviously strong they are super soft too then it comes to female leads… and and and theres sort of redemption always for characters like Yoongi in Third Wheeling & Jimin in Bird Cage.
below are my fave fics from this author, but please do go ahead and browse all her works as they are all equally beautiful.
I Waited for You - just because its a Kim Seokjin fic and he’s an alpha!!! maybe i have not explored tumblr properly but i have come across very few Alpha Seokjin stories.
Welcome to Seoul Land - again, just because its a Kim Namjoon fic and werewolf au. my queen did not disappoint! Namjoon is so soft, ima cry…
When it Rain it Pours - i was swooning, a soft Namjoon for a roommate turned lovers…
What’s up Doc - ooohhhhh! soft Yoongi and i love the part where they whispers while waiting for test results, its so cute i swear! but, don’t be fooled coz we are talking about the queen here so the smut is top tier as per usual.
Snowed In&Live, Laugh, Love - bestfriends to lovers stories featuring our eternal sunshine Hoseok. imagine Hoseok telling his girlfriend that his best friend means the most to him in the world!!! if that is not in love i dont know what.. but, Hoseok in our queens story is amazing.
Siver & Blue - alpha Taehyung with lots of smuts, what else can you ask for?
summary: after a day at the beach, hoseok has some surprises in store for his longtime love
pairing: hoseok x reader
genre: fluff, smut, fluff OH MY GOD SO MUCH FLUFF y'all i apologize
word count: 4.7K
notes: this fic is a commission fic for the lovely @wwilloww as part of the @armyadvocates fundraising initiative to stop hate crimes against AAPI. miss willow asked for an old house, candles and soft smut as well as a mystery box. i did my best to deliver on all counts because willow is amazing and deserves all good things.
thanks go to @hobi-gif@ladyartemesiaand@btsarmy9593 for beta reading parts of this story, thanks so much for keeping me on track ladies! a very special shoutout to @sahmfanficbts who helped me come up with a very *key* part of this plot.
warnings: no one dies? no one is in danger of dying? who am i? standard smut, unprotected sex. liberal sunscreen use. low air quality due to paint fumes and sawdust. references to yoongi, who we can assume is cranky offscreen, references to @untaemedqueen first suggestion of what was in the box.
Warm.
Hoseok is so warm right now, inside and out. He stretches his long body out on the length of his beach lounger, enjoying the feeling of the sun beating down on his skin. His buzz is mellow and pleasant. He lets his eyes drift shut, lulled into a lazy calm by the sounds he can hear all around him.
The steady lap of the waves against the shore. Kids laughing as they run around on the sand. Off in the distance, a bluetooth speaker thumps out a song that’s too far away for him to recognize. And after a few minutes, another sound.
Your bright laughter, carried to him on the breeze.
God, he loves that sound.
“You are such a lightweight,” you tease. Hoseok can hear the smile in your voice. “Two beers and you pass out on me.”
it was soft and so fluffy i was melting by the 3rd photo… soft and melting like that Butter video, thankfully it only took me 10 mins (more or less) to melt unlike the Butter video that took an hour!!!
Hoseok is an underground rapper well known in the industryindustrie. Thanks to that he can’t be very loud or public about his… Special kink…
One day while scrolling through twitter he finds out about “nsfw twitter” where Y/N and her 2 friends sell kinky stuff.
Y/N turns out to fulfill his deepest fantasies.
Genre: SocialMedia!AU, Smut, Angsty
ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: Hello! I went into a loooong, looong hiatus but I’m finally back! This part is a little different cause I need to make a little of time between Hoseok and Y/N for what it’s coming
I also updated the tag list but if you don’t wanna be on it anymore or changed ur username after all this time please let me now!
Jimin was heartbroken, a thin layer of tears covered his eyes, yet he didn’t let any of them roll out of his eyes. Jimin was prideful. He wouldn’t let anyone tear him down. You knew he was hurt, but he was going to hide it and just party and go around with random people. It wasn’t the first time you’ve seen Jimin like this, but he always got better, he knew how to heal his own heart. He was strong as hell.
Something by Girl’s Day was playing loudly through your speakers, Jimin was singing every word while you were trying to replicate the choreography. Yoongi was in the kitchen making some drinks for everyone “he didn’t even cheat on you, Jimin. Why this song?” Yoongi placed the drinks on the coffee table while look at his two friends making a dramatic performance of that song “He didn’t… but he lied to me about being okay with my job, so it counts” Jimin reached to the table to grab a cup and pour it down his throat.
You were on your second round of drinks when light knocks on your door captured everyone’s attention “shhh, I think it’s him” Jimin ran to lower the music’s volume while Yoongi started at the door with pure curiosity.
You fixed your hair and dress before opening the door with a big smile, a smile that faded away when you recognized who was standing in front of you. “Y-You… a-are you lost? Are you looking for someone” he looked at you starting to play with his fingers. “I’m Seok” his voice was hushed, but you could still hear it. “What?” naturally, you were surprised, what were the chances? “From twitter?”
Jimin grew anxious, you weren’t coming back, and none of you knew this guy. What if he was some crazy dude and was trying to steal your house? He walked to the door letting a scream out of his chest when he saw Seok standing in front of you. His scream alarmed Yoongi, who didn’t waste much time to run where you guys were.
Hoseok looked like a scared kitty right now, trying to convince himself this wasn’t a bad idea that you guys could still have a good time even after finding out who he was “YN, where are your manners? Let the poor guy in” Jimin took Hoseok’s hand and dragged him inside your house. You and Yoongi looked at each other with surprise and without a clue of what to do now.
The first minutes were uncomfortable, Jimin was just staring at Hoseok while you and Yoongi were trying to figure out a way to make this whole situation less weird “so… Uhm… Seok, do you want some drinks? I made them myself” with a head gesture Yoongi pointed at the drinks in the coffee table. Hoseok smiled a little bit before reaching for one of the drinks.
“I can’t believe it’s you. It’s funny, a few weeks ago Yn was about to have something with R-” you cut Jimin’s words before he could tell Hoseok about your little thing with one of his friends. “ignore him, he is a little drunk. He is Jimin, by the way, and our bartender is Yoongi. They are my best friends” Hoseok smiled at both of them finishing his drink after that “I don’t know if this was a good idea. I feel like I just ruined your party” Yoongi shook his head in negation sitting on the individual couch. “I think you just made it better. Jimin has a crush on you or something” as soon as those words left Yoongi’s lips, Jimin turned completely red, he looked at Yoongi and threw a cushion in his direction “what? you are always complimenting him”
It took a little more alcohol for you guys to relax and start to treat Hoseok like a friend and not a celebrity. Even though the ones talking to him were Jimin and Yoongi, you were just looking at him or dancing to any song Jimin played. Of course, you wanted to talk to him, but you knew how much Jimin liked him, so you just let your little friend enjoy Hoseok’s company; after all, you’ll have him for the rest of the night.
“Let’s go drunk baby. You are staying at my place tonight.” Yoongi carried Jimin over his back, who was just mumbling some gibberish. “Remind him that we need to be at 5 pm at the studio, please” Yoongi nodded before leaning towards you and leaving a small peck in your lips. He looked at Hoseok and winked at him “we are just friends, okay? That’s something we’ve always do” Hoseok turned his head looking at his feet while waiting for you.
“You could’ve told me who you were. I know how to keep a secret” Hoseok looked nervous again. Maybe he relaxed since more people were around, but now it was you and him. “I didn’t want to scare you. I truly liked you” his voice was soft but a little louder, maybe thanks to the alcohol.
“You wouldn’t. Even if you were old or shorter, I wouldn’t mind” you took his cup out of his hand, putting it down, held his hand and started to walk towards your room, “where are we going?” you could feel his hand shaking “to my room.”
You stared at him while sitting down on your bed. He looked so lost and clueless. It was so adorable. He took little steps and was about to sit down on the other side of your bed. “No. Stan where you were,” you smiled at him, pointing at the frame door. “close the door” he did just as you told. “Unbutton your shirt but don’t take it off.” at first, Hoseok looked confused, but as soon he started to unbutton his shirt, he understood what was going on. “I knew you had abs,” he began to blush and look everywhere, but you “actually, take everything off but your boxers.” You looked carefully at his body. It was beautiful. His skin color was a little tan, and you could see some bruises, probably because of all the dancing he did while performing. His hands were shaking while taking off pieces of clothing. His hair was a little bit sweaty because of alcohol. His face was also a little greasy, and it honestly made him more attractive.
“Hobi” he looked at you with a soft smile “Hobi?” you nodded, smiling at him “My new nickname for you. Come closer, Hobi” he liked the nickname. It made him feel cute. Your hand started to touch his skin, beginning from his arms to his belly “you are so beautiful, Seokie” he smiled “Am I?” he wasn’t asking to build his ego up, you noticed he was asking cause he doubted you and that made your heart feel small and sad.
“Why don’t you believe me?” you kneeled on your bed, getting on his height, you took his cheeks into your hands caressing them softly. “why would I lie to you?” before he could even think in a reason you kissed him, at first it was soft, letting him adjust to your lips. Then the kiss started to grow more and more urgent.
“Take my clothes off” he nodded without letting go of your lips, even while you were talking he didn’t want to stop kissing you. In a matter of seconds, you both were laying down in your bed, you only wearing your panties and Hoseok his boxers.
You took his hands, guiding him slowly into your underwear “I- I’ve never” you shushed him with another kiss, “let me teach you.” You layed on your back, opening your legs slightly “you just gotta be gentle at first, okay?” your hand guided him with the first movement, touching you close to your desired are but not there yet.
The excitement started to grow on your body, feeling more and more anxious every time he wanted to take the lead, it was cute how he let a growl out when you didn’t let him do it alone. “stop” your voice was husky, and he liked it “get on the middle of the bed.” He did whatever you asked him to, and it made you so excited. The guys you talked to never obeyed you, they liked to get “punished” but Hoseok was obedient. It probably was thanks to how inexperienced he was.
“This is a little bit like kissing” you left a last small kiss on his lips before getting on the bed. He licked his lips, knowing precisely what was going to happen. You looked for a comfortable position “if you need air or to stop just tap slightly on my legs and, no teeth for now” he nodded, you lowered yourself sitting on his face. A small moan escaped from your lips when his breath hit you. “put your hands on my hips” he didn’t even start to touch you yet. He was waiting for your indications. You took his hands with yours. Smiling at your reflection in the mirror in front of your bed.
“Start kissing my thighs.” You bited your lips as soon as his lips made contact with your skin. “You can get closer, Seokie.” after a little of foreplay, you felt the urge to start to feel his mouth deeper. “You-You can start to…” Your words stopped by the feeling of Hoseok’s tongue inside of you. He was as desperate as you, maybe even a little more. He started to move his tongue, giving you long strokes, slow and shy ones. It was almost as if he was testing how far he could go, yet he didn’t wait for your approval before he started to go deeper inside of you, playing carefully with your clit. He wasn’t giving it much attention. He preferred to taste every other placer of your private area.
“Fuck” breathy moans started to leave your lips, your hands left his long ago, now they were on his chest, caressing, scratching it and even pinching it depending on whatever Hoseok decided to do. “Move it in circles.” He grabbed your hips with a little bit more of pressure starting to do as you told. You could feel your orgasm beginning to grow the more he played with you. Your nails began to scratch him, making him moan under you, driving you crazier. Your hips started to move at his rhythm, looking for a release.
“Fuck, Seokie,” your hands grabbed his chest, looking for some balance while you started to feel your climax on his pretty face. He didn’t stop his movements until you got yourself off of him. You looked at him, smiling and then letting a little laugh out. He was licking his lips, but he still managed to look cute as fuck. “Am going to take a shower” he looked at you, confused. You knew he was expecting you to continue. That’s precisely why you wanted to make him wait a little more, play with him a little. “You can get comfortable in bed. I’ll be right back. I need to sleep early. Tomorrow I have to work” you left a little kiss on his lips before running to your bathroom, smiling at how confused Hoseok looked when you left the bedroom.
Hoseok is an underground rapper well known in the industryindustrie. Thanks to that he can’t be very loud or public about his… Special kink…
One day while scrolling through twitter he finds out about “nsfw twitter” where Y/N and her 2 friends sell kinky stuff.
Y/N turns out to fulfill his deepest fantasies.
Genre: SocialMedia!AU, Smut, Angsty
ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: hello! Sorry for being so inactive this week. I’m starting school today so I’ve been like crazy trying to get everything in order before I start haha . Bur this week I’ll try to update every story and also post the requests I’ve been working on
ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: language/ i don’t know if the word prost*tute would trigger someone so I censored it :)
A prompt list because i can’t think of anything . Just select a member with the numbers and you can tell me if you want the ending to be happy or sad. It can be smut too! And they can be of any au’s whether it’s ceo or mafia
Request open!
BTS
Fuck you aren’t making it easy for me
You promised you wouldn’t leave me
Let me make you forget him
Can i kiss you?
You know i would do anything for you babygirl
I need you
I can’t fucking live without you,can’t you see that?
Let’s get married
I can’t do this anymore
I love you more than him
I’m in love with you
Let’s stop this
I don’t fucking care
You are the only one for me
Is she mine?
You’re my everything babygirl
Do you love him?
I’ll protect you
I’ll fucking kill myself if anything had happened to you
He will regret this
I’ll never let anything happen to you
I’m not letting you walk out on me
I’m sorry for walking out on you
Just know that i love you more than anything
You’re pregnant?
I can’t believe my own daughter would betray me like this
You’re nothing to me
You’re mine before him
You’re mine
I never stopped loving you
I hate you but i hate myself more because i can’t stop loving you
Fuck the things you do to me
Burn that dress. I’ll buy you another one
No baby, I’m in charge here
You’re so fucking beautiful
No you’re not going anywhere
Are you fucking crazy?!
Do you want to die?!
Thank you for not leaving me
Talk to me baby
I don’t care you’re married
I love you dammit
I swear she is nothing to me
Please believe me baby
I can’t believe you
Do you even care anymore?
You’re making me crazy y/n
Fuck I’ll shoot a bullet in her head if she tries to hurt you again
Can’t you see that he is just using you?!
Why do you have to bring that up every single time?!
⚜️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, slow burn & pining
⚜️warnings: infidelity (it’s complicated, y’all) mentions of pregnancy, fertility issues. OC struggles with depressive thoughts and episodes.
⚜️word count: 10K
⚜️notes: thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone who has continued to follow this story. i went through a period of terrible writer’s block and self-doubt over the course of this chapter and it would not be complete without my fic accountability coach and A1 since day one @hobi-gif. also a huge thank you to @yeoldontknow and the possums who lent me their amazing eyeballs and brains – i love you guys so much @wwilloww@reliablemitten@miscelunaaa you guys aren’t just amazing writers, you’re amazing people. i hope you guys enjoy this chapter
There was a time when you’d been certain the thing you wanted mostwas for the King to suffer.
You would fantasize about it; spend your waking hours longing for it – certain the only thing that could bring you some semblance of peace was your husband’s utter distress. Certain that seeing him broken would be the only way to feel whole.
But it’s strange, isn’t it?
The heaviness with which he drops into the ornate wingback chair at your bedside does not make you feel any lighter. The sober expression on his face as he regards you does not make you feel in any way vindicated. Nor is there any triumph to be had in the guilt that seems to radiate from his every pore, subtle as a beacon.
“How are you feeling?”
You stifle a sigh. It’s the King’s second visit to your chamber today alone and by now there is little polite, meaningless conversation left to be had.
“Much the same as I felt two hours ago, Your Grace,” you answer, regretting the blunt edge to your words when his face falls. You’re careful to soften your tone as you add, “Which is to say much improved. Thank you.”
A heavy quiet falls over the chamber again. You can’t make out the sound of the maids walking the halls outside or the ever-present din of chattering footmen on the floors below. Even the motes of dust in the air seem suspended in place, hanging motionless in the shafts of sunlight that stream in from behind your heavy curtains.
“I’ve yet to leave this bed but I think I’m feeling a bit stronger today,” you offer feebly, speaking only when the King seems to have resigned himself to silence. “The doctor assures me this is a passing malaise, nothing more.”
Your husband nods, the corners of his mouth lifting in a weak attempt at a smile.
There was a time when you might have relished the melancholy on his face. Might have found the uncharacteristic slump of his shoulders gratifying. Or taken some sordid pleasure in the way he smooths his damp palms over the thick weave of his breeches, over and over again.
But it’s strange, isn’t it?
None of it brings you any satisfaction. Seeing the King wounded does not make you less wounded. And his unhappiness does not in any way alleviate your own.
“I’ll be sure to share the details of your recovery with the many people who’ve asked after you,” he says with a joyless chuckle. “I think they’ll have my head if I don’t bring them good news in short order.”
But is Lord Jung among them?
As they so often do, your thoughts wander from the man before you—your husband—to the enigmatic Royal Guardsman. You think back to the last time you saw him, to the way he’d taken the lead in seeing you cared for when you’d been burning with fever. You think of the quiet authority and reassurance in his voice as he’d helped you reach your chambers and bed. You think of the way that voice had hardened in the tense moments after Lord Jeon had confessed to not being able to find the King.
You think of that perplexing confrontation in the courtyard.
You’ve had little more to do than contemplate the circumstances of that exchange for days now, turning the strange scene over in your mind while confined to your sickbed. What you would give to have just an inkling of what transpired between those men that night, to have any small insight into the words spoken during that terse conversation. Though in truth, some part of you suspects you already know.
Certainlysomethingis behind your husband’s sudden bout of attentiveness.
You roll your shoulders and knead at the stiff muscles of your neck, body strained and sore from days of idleness. The pillows pressed against your lower back have slipped just enough to cause discomfort and you reach behind yourself to rearrange them.
“I can do that for you,” the King says, rushing to his feet.
He is standing at your side before you have a chance to protest the matter, carefully slipping the pillows out from behind you, painstakingly fluffing the feathers inside them until he’s satisfied with their new shape. Then he leans over the bed, solid body hovering over yours as he replaces them. You will yourself not to stiffen at his nearness, but the truth is that you’re not accustomed to being this close to your husband. Physically or otherwise.
“How does that feel?” he asks, deep voice at your ear as he moulds the pillows to the curve of your back.
“Much better, thank you,” you murmur, feeling a ripple of tension work its way up your spine when Namjoon straightens and stands back to assess his work. Your husband holds your gaze for a few slow, tortuous seconds, lips parted as though he means to speak.
Then he seems to think better of it, clearing his throat instead and looking away.
You watch his eyes move to the table at your bedside, where a fine crystal vase houses what is sure to be the two most pitiful daisies in the entire Kingdom. Boram’s note had said that Yeona selected them for you herself, the evidence of her indelicate touch plain on the flowers’ bruised petals and flattened stems. You treasure the mangled blooms anyway.
“They’re a bit worse for the wear, I’m afraid,” you comment lightly, watching the King stroke a wilted white petal with his fingertip. “Yeona is still too young to understand that some things must be handled with care.”
“So it would seem,” he says, lips twitching with amusement.
But the humor in his expression falls away as his eyes move from the daisies to the tiny bauble seated beside the delicate crystal vase. He stares at it for a while before reaching for it, the small trinket dwarfed in the palm of his large hand. You study him as he studies it, expression somber as he strokes a thumb over the bird’s smooth green wings.
And for the very first time, you see it.
No. You allow yourself to see it.
The turmoil etched into the deep crease between your husband’s brows. The regret in the firm press of his lips and the embarrassment simmering in his eyes. The remorse that shrouds him like a dark halo, hovering over him like a storm cloud.
You see it quite clearly now, don’t you? As though you’ve been wearing your pride and resentment like a blindfold and it’s suddenly fallen away, allowing you to recognize what’s been in front of you all this time.
When the King flicks his weary, dark eyes to meet yours, you don’t see your philandering husband – though certainly he is that. You see a deeply conflicted man, fighting a war on two sides. Married to one woman and in love with another. Condemning both to a strange kind of half-life in which neither will ever truly be happy. Condemning himself, too.
“I should let you rest,” he says at last, setting the bird down and you nod, a sudden tightness in your throat.
“Yes,” you agree, voice thick. “I think that’s best.”
The King leans close to you again, this time to press a soft kiss to your cheek. His hands find yours on the duvet and he squeezes them tight, causing ludicrous tears to spring to your eyes. You lower them so as not to give yourself away.
It is only when he has gone, when the door to your chamber is firmly shut, that you finally allow yourself to breathe. And then you sit there for a while, stupefied.
There was a time when you’d thought you would never share anything with your husband. But you’d been wrong.
The two of you share the same muted misery, the same low thrum of sadness that taints all things, good and bad. You share the same bone-deep unhappiness borne from this arrangement and the same secret fury at being powerless to change it.
Husband and wife, bound to one another for life. Both damned to have happiness dangle at your fingertips, but never the ability to grasp it.
Till death do you part.
⚜️⚜️⚜️
Though you feel remarkably improved after four days of confinement, Hyeri insists you stay in bed for an entire week.
The older woman has always fancied herself a bit of a mother hen, but since the onset of your illness she’s become more like a guard dog. She’s taken to sleeping on a cot in your chamber and keeping fastidious notes on your care and progress. And she’s safeguarded you like a sentry, allowing no one but the doctor and the King past the threshold to your private rooms.
You’ve taken great pains to endure her meddling with grace – in part because you’ve been in no position to fight such battles in your weakened state and in part because you understand that her coddling is rooted in genuine care and concern. Surely she must long for the children she raised and who’ve long since left her nest to start their own families. And so in their absence, you must do.
But that does not mean you intend to spend a single second longer than necessary trapped inside this chamber.
So you rise with the sun on the seventh day of your captivity, filled with a newfound determination. You are determined to leave the staid air of this chamber and breathe fresh air into your lungs. You are determined to stretch your sore muscles with a vigorous walk. And you are absolutely determined to put your foot down, lovingly,with your handmaid turned nursemaid turned jailer.
And you’ll not allow anything – certainly not the arrival of your monthly courses – to put a damper on this day.
“We’re going to have to take your gowns in,” Hyeri grumbles as her nimble fingers pull at the laces of your corset. She’d made an unhappy sound when you’d announced plans for a morning walk, but has thus far managed to refrain from voicing her discontent out loud. “Too many days without eating properly. You ought to take two servings at every meal until you’re filled out again.”
“I assure you, my appetite is fully restored along with my health,” you say, stomach rumbling beneath your skirts at the very mention of food. “I could probably take three servings in a sitting if I put my mind to it.”
“Very good then,” Hyeri chuckles, patting your back once the dress is fully secured. “I’ll have breakfast brought up at once.”
“No, you absolutely will not,” you protest, whirling on her. “I’ll go mad if I spend another minute locked away in this chamber. I’ll take my breakfast down in the kitchens, thank you very much.”
Hyeri huffs under her breath and you mimic the sound back. The older woman’s eyes narrow and you return that gesture as well, crossing your arms in challenge. The two of you stand there for a while, glowering at one another like petulant children until the sound of a singing kettle breaks the stalemate.
It’s been days since you’ve heard that sound, you realize. Days since Hyeri has set a steaming cup of that foul tea before you, only to watch you like a hawk until every last drop is gone. The shrill sound of that blasted kettle raises the hairs on the nape of your neck and sets your teeth on edge.
And it brings to mind something else you intend to put your foot down about today.
You clear your throat as Hyeri moves to see to the kettle.
“I won’t be taking the tea today, Hyeri,” you announce, straightening your spine as your brace for the argument that is sure to come. Hyeri turns away from the fire, kettle in hand, and levels you with a look.
“You’re rather spirited today, Your Grace. Do you intend to put more silver in my hair now that you are fully recovered?”
“No I do not,” you say hotly. “But I also do not intend to drink that tea. Today, tomorrow, or ever again.”
Hyeri’s rheumy eyes grow wide with shock. The playful arch of her brow falls and the teasing twist to her mouth slowly recedes. She stares at you as though she sees a stranger, not the young woman she’s come to know well after nearly one year in your service.
Maybe you are a stranger now. You certainly don’t feel like the same woman who’d fallen into that sickbed one week ago, burning with fever. Something inside of you feels like it’s shifted; like you’ve emerged from this illness stronger in ways that go beyond the physical.
“I understand that your courses have come, Your Grace, but these things take time,” she insists slowly, the paper-thin skin at the hollow of her throat wavering as she stops to swallow thickly. “I do not think now is the time to abandon this regimen. “This requires time and dedication. If you’ll just stay the course, you’ll see.”
Your bravado falters a bit at the wounded note in her voice, at the way her eyes start to pink around the rims. A tiny voice in your head warns not to press forward with the words that threaten to tumble out of your mouth but a louder voice urges you on, pushes you to make the cut as quick and clean as possible.
“Hyeri, I owe you only gratitude for the way you’ve treated me. And for your kindness in trying to help me conceive a child. But I’ve grown tired of pretending that this course of action will remedy my particular situation.” You allow yourself a deep breath before adding, “Or his.”
Hyeri blinks at you.
“I don’t understand what you mean, Your Grace.”
“Don’t you?”
You lift your chin to look Hyeri directly in the eyes, allowing your implication to hang in the air. Slowly, your nursemaid blanches, the color draining from her sweet face until all that remains are two spots of color on her cheeks. She takes a step towards the table and slowly sinks into the chair, face frozen in an expression of disbelief.
“Youcan’t –” the older woman starts and stops, looking bewildered. “– You can’t know that, Your Grace. You cannot be certain of such a thing.”
“You’re right,” you concede quietly, “I cannot. But there is ample reason to suspect it.”
You’re careful to temper your argument to Hyeri, though in truth you are quite convinced of your husband’s inability to produce a child. If nothing else, your last encounter with the King has only strengthened the idea in your mind. It’s the very first time in your young marriage that you’ve looked past your husband’s station and allowed yourself to see him as he truly is. His Grace – Kim Namjoon – is just a man. As fallible as any other.
But Hyeri has yet to come to any such realization. Her eyes shine bright with unshed tears from where she remains seated at the table, chin trembling.
You cross the room to go to her, carefully settling in the seat beside her and taking one of her hands into yours. You remind yourself that Hyeri has devoted years of her life to working in service of the King, that her deference for him and the very institution he represents is in her blood. That some part of her likely still thinks of Namjoon as the gangly boy she’d helped rear and not the grown man he is now.
And you remind yourself that despite her allegiance to your husband, she’s shown you nothing but kindness – and for that alone, she deserves your respect.
“Hyeri, please,” you whisper, squeezing her fingers gently. “Please know that I do not mean to upset you. I mean only to speak plainly, not to cause you any pain.”
“I had thought – I had thought there was some growth between the two of you, Your Grace. All those visits he’s made to your chamber while you’ve been ill. The way he’d fretted over your health and care. I thought – “ She pauses to shake her head as though chastising herself for entertaining such notions, “I thought that maybe something good could come of something bad.”
Your heart squeezes at Hyeri’s confession, at her well-meaning but poorly-placed idealism. You cannot fathom how despite everything she’s seen and heard, she can still hold onto the dream that what is broken between you and Namjoon can be fixed.
But you cannot fault her for it, either.
“Something good has come of it,” you say gently. “I’m not angry anymore. Not with the King and not with myself. It was weighing me down, Hyeri. As though I walked through this first year of my marriage with stones in my pockets.”
Hyeri dabs at the corners of her eyes with a sleeve.
“I know the King cares for me. I accept that.” You speak the words out loud and they strike a chord inside your chest. You know they ring true. “Just as I accept that at the very same time, he does not love me. And now I must accept that there may never be a child.”
“But there must be a child, Your Grace.” Hyeri sniffles under her breath as she wrenches her gaze from your joined hands to look you in the eye. “The future of the throne depends on it. What will come of the King’s line if he does not have an heir?”
“I don’t know,” you admit, thumb tracing an absentminded pattern over the soft, diaphanous skin of her knuckles. “Perhaps he will send me away.”
“Hewouldn’t,” Hyeri protests, indignation flaring behind her muted dark eyes.
You suspect that Hyeri has the right of it. Namjoon does not strike you as the kind of man who’d want to court such a scandal, nor does he seem uncaring enough to want to cut you loose in such a humiliating fashion. And as many times as you’ve daydreamed about being freed from the shackles of this loveless marriage, the mere thought of returning home to your mother – of bringing your entire family that kind of shame – is devastating.
You’d sooner throw yourself from the carriage tasked with taking you home than endure thatfate.
“I say these things not to upset you, Hyeri. Or to speak ill of the King. I say them only because if I’ve learned nothing else since coming here, I’ve learned to guard my heart. This is me guarding my heart.”
The tears gathered at the corners of Hyeri’s eyes spill over, though she does not make a sound. You dab at them with your own sleeve now, earning a sad smile from your handmaid.
“There could still be a child, Your Grace,” she says softly, “Some day. None of us know what’s written on the days that are yet to come.”
“You are right,” you concede with a sad smile. “And I would be very glad to be wrong.”
“So there is always hope,” Hyeri concludes, squaring her shoulders. Just speaking the words out loud seems to have reinforced her spirit. In this moment, she reminds you of the daisies at your bedside – battered but still bending towards the sunlight.
“Yes,” you agree, if only to bring her some solace. “There is always hope.”
⚜️⚜️⚜️
The King calls for dinner to be held in the great hall to celebrate your return to good health.
He surprises you by seeing to many of the details himself, though you suspect Hyeri has played some part in bringing his vision to life. The generous spread wheeled out and served to the guests in attendance consists of only your most beloved dishes and desserts. And the hall is decorated in a bevy of cosmos flowers – the very kind that grow in abundance in Namjoon’s grand aviary.
It’s not all his doing, of course. It is the kitchen staff that spends hours preparing the food and the steward who sees to each plush flower centerpiece placed at the tables. But it is the King who directs their steps, and in doing so you cannot help but feel flattered by his consideration.
But you also cannot help but be flustered by his attention.
Whereas Namjoon would normally spend the lion’s share of his evening consorting with the assembled guests, tonight he has yet to stray more than an arm’s length from your side. You are keenly aware of his nearness as smiling people approach you from all sides, each expressing what seems to be genuine relief at news of your recovery.
It’s been months since the last communal dinner was held in this hall, and perhaps that is why it seems as though you could be swallowed whole in the sea of people gathered here tonight. Foreign and familiar faces alike swim by in all directions. Children cut narrow paths through the fray, darting between legs as they chase one another around, their laughter barely audible over the din of clinking cups and clattering dishes.
You do not know at what point you start searching each passing face for a pair of searing almond-shaped eyes and a heart-shaped mouth. But you do know at which point you realizeit.
“You are not fatigued, are you?”
The sound of your husband’s deep baritone at the shell of your ear nearly makes you jump. You turn to him, careful to keep your eyes downcast. Certain that if you allow him too close a look he’ll recognize the guilt written all over your face.
Certainlyhe would know what it looks like.
“Not at all. Though I must admit to my feet being tired,” you sigh, gesturing to the beautiful calfskin boots that peek out from beneath your heavy skirts. “I’m afraid these are not quite broken in yet.”
“Then I’ll get you a chair,” the King says without hesitation, turning at once to make good on that promise. You stop him with one firm tug to his arm.
“Pleaseno,” you protest, by now thoroughly unsettled by your husband’s careful oversight. “That’s not necessary, truly. I think I’ll walk around a bit and see if I can find Boram. I can rest my feet while we speak.”
“Very well,” Namjoon agrees, dark eyes boring into yours. “Send word immediately if you need me.”
You are bowing to him before the words are even fully out his mouth, quickling slipping away and into the current of moving bodies around you. You try not to call attention to yourself, but it cannot be helped. The crowds part to make way as you walk, people stopping to bow as you pass. You acknowledge each with an absentminded smile as you resume your search for those familiar dark eyes. You cannot find them.
“Your Grace!”
But it is only moments later that a familiar voice finds you. It breaks clear through the commotion and you turn toward it to find Boram waving at you from her seat at the longtable, sweet Yeona perched on her lap. The baby mimics her mother’s gesture, flapping her own hand wildly in greeting. The sight of them both is enough to make your heart burst.
“Oh, how I’ve missed you girls,” you sigh, surging forward to envelop both in an indelicate hug. You take a seat at Boram’s side and she proudly lifts Yeona to her feet. The baby plants them firmly on her mother’s lap, legs strong and steady beneath her.
“How is it possible she’s changed so much in little more than a week?” you wonder aloud, smiling in response to Yeona’s happy gurgle and wide grin. “She looks like a child ready to walk and not the little dumpling I saw last.”
“She really does,” Boram agrees with a wistful smile. “It’s all happening so fast. But you, My Grace, you look changed too! Even more vibrant than before. I would scarcely believe you’ve just emerged from your sickbed if I did not know it to be true.”
Your friend’s praise sends a pleasant heat to your cheeks.
“You flatter me,” you demur with a soft smile. “I’m so relieved to be free from confinement that I must be wearing my happiness for everyone to see, that’s all.”
“Well, it suits you,” Boram declares. “We were all quite worried about you. When Yoongi came home that day, he’d told me you were in a terrible state. I pestered him for news every day until he told me of your recovery.”
“I cannot recall ever feeling so ill,” you admit. “But I was well cared for, thankfully. And Yeona’s flowers were at my bedside to brighten my spirits. And I have yet to see Lord Min and thank him personally for helping me that day. Is he here tonight?”
“Somewhere,” Boram laughs. “Off with the men, I suppose. I’ve been waiting on him to return so that I might have an opportunity to stretch my legs and greet some of the old friends I’ve seen walking about.” She gestures to a tankard at the empty space beside her. “But he can’t have wandered too far if he’s left his ale behind.”
You laugh, reaching out to tickle Yeona’s belly and the baby squeals in response.
“Go on then,” you say, reaching for Yeona. She comes to you without hesitation, grin wide enough to bare the tiny teeth that have broken through her bottom gums. “I can sit with Yeona and you can have a few minutes to yourself. We’ll be right here when you return.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind? She’s dry and fed and I won’t be gone long.”
“I don’t mind at all,” you insist, bouncing Yeona on your knee and earning another squeal. “I’m happy to keep her any time you need a break.”
Boram’s smile is genuine and grateful. She puts a hand on your knee and squeezes it as she leans in to kiss her baby girl’s cheek.
“You are very kind, Your Grace. Thank you.”
You smile back, passing a hand over the soft hair at Yeona’s crown, smoothing down the tiny curls that have sprung up around her ears. “It’s no trouble at all.”
Boram casts a backward glance at you both as she leaves and you reassure her with a wave, which Yeona is quick to mimic.
“Such a smart girl, aren’t you?” you coo, pressing a kiss to her temple and inhaling her sweet scent. “Smartest girl in the entire kingdom. Perhaps some day you will be queen, hmm?”
“That would be an interesting turn of events,” a voice that is certainly not Yeona’s answers. The sound of it steals your breath and you turn towards it slowly, only to find Lord Jung standing before you. His dark eyes dance with amusement. “Although I think poor Yoongi would perish at the very notion of a royal bride price.”
It’s a wonder that Yeona does not fuss when your hold on her goes a bit tight in response to his sudden appearance. Your heart rattles inside your ribcage.
“My Lord,” you breathe, eyes wide as you watch him take a seat beside you. “Forgive me, I did not see you there.”
“Perhaps you ought to forgive me,” he says playfully, offering Yeona a finger that she immediately seizes with one chubby fist. “I did not announce myself.”
He smiles at Yeona then – full and brilliant – and she surprises you by turning coquettishly away to bury her face in the crook of your neck. Lord Jung chuckles and you find yourself staring at him, dazzled stupid by his beauty. Breath caught in your throat as your eyes sweep over his long, sooty lashes and sunkissed skin.
Has he always been this breathtaking?
Yeona lifts her head to peek at him once more. He reaches out to tickle her and then she’s hiding her face again, smothering her giggles against you.
“I think she fancies you,” you say at last, swallowing thickly when Lord Jung lifts his dark eyes to meet yours.
“I’m a bit too old for her, I’m afraid,” he teases, mouth curved into a soft smile. It slowly falls away as his expression grows more serious.
“It’s a relief to see you looking so well, Your Grace,” he murmurs. “Truly.”
There is a sincerity in that declaration that makes you feel warm and pliant inside. You shift Yeona on your lap so that you might have a plausible reason to look away, though truly it is only because looking him in the eye makes you feel vulnerable.
“It is a relief to be well,” you admit shyly. “And that is in large part due to you, My Lord. The other men, as well,” you add, almost as an afterthought. “I still shudder to think what might have happened that day had Lord Jeon not found me when he did.”
“Yes, I think we are all grateful for his vigilance. And I am glad that we were able to help,” Lord Jung says, watching you rub circles across Yeona’s back. The baby settles into your hold, soft cheek pressed to the juncture of your neck. “I hate to see anyone in that condition.”
You flick your eyes up at the note of melancholy in that statement. Surely he must be thinking of his late wife and her untimely death. To hear Boram tell it, the young woman passed nearly a year before your arrival here but something about his somber expression makes you wonder if that wound is still fresh. If you were a more courageous woman, you would ask.
But you are not.
“Well I am healthy now, My Lord,” you reassure him. “Fully recovered and feeling more like myself than I have in ages.”
He smiles as he reaches one hand out to stroke the soft curls at the base of Yeona’s neck. The baby sighs under her breath, but does not stir.
“I’m working at the stables this week,” he says after a moment. “Perhaps now that you feel – “
“There you are! I think I’ve walked nearly this entire hall looking for you.”
Both you and Lord Jung startle when the sound of a new voice joins the fray. You turn your head to find the King standing in front of you, eyes moving from you to the Royal Guardsman and back. And though there is a smile on his face, it does not quite reach his eyes.
“Your Grace.” Lord Jung quickly stands to his feet and bows in one fluid motion. You make no move to follow suit with Yeona in your arms, her breaths soft and slow and even at your ear. But you do manage a smile for the King, a weak one, even though both your heart and mind are racing. Even though in some way it feels as though he’s interrupted a moment of intimacy.
You wonder if the King feels it, too.
“I’ve not seen you all night, Jung,” Namjoon says pleasantly enough, clapping a hand over the Guardsman’s shoulder. Lord Jung returns Namjoon’s smile with an easy one of his own. You watch them both with careful curiosity, searching each man’s face for any sign of the tension you’d witnessed the other night in the courtyard. You find none, but you cannot be sure if that is because it no longer exists – or because both are accomplished in the art of diplomacy.
“I’ve been milling about,” Lord Jung explains, gesturing to you. “This is the first time I’ve seen the Queen since her confinement and I wanted to ask after her. I’m sure you both are quite glad of her recovery.”
“That we are,” the King says. He brushes past Lord Jung to take the man’s place on the bench beside you. “Though I suspect I’ve kept her out too late tonight and she’ll need her rest.”
You nearly open your mouth to protest but decide against it.
“Perhaps it’s time for me to retire as well,” Lord Jung says lightly. “I have an early morning ahead of me with the horses. It’s best I take my leave now and bid a good night to you both.”
He wastes no time in quickly bowing to you both before turning to leave.
You’re careful not to watch him go, though the King certainly does. Namjoon’s dark eyes follow Lord Jung’s steps until he is too far gone into the crowd to spot any longer. Your stomach churns at the expression on your husband’s face, at the dark curiosity in his narrowed eyes and arched brow.
“He’s restless of late,” the King says under his breath. Though you’ve heard him quite clearly, it seems safer somehow to pretend otherwise.
“I beg your pardon, Your Grace?”
“Lord Jung,” he clarifies, shifting his gaze back to you. “He’s not been himself these last months. Unsettled. Tense, perhaps.”
Your pulse leaps at your husband’s observation though you cannot be sure if the cause is excitement or fear. Yeona feels like a cinder in your arms now, her little body radiating an uncomfortable warmth against your already heated skin. You feel sweat start to bead at the back of your neck.
“I – do not know him as well as you do, Your Grace,” you say slowly, reaching for each word as carefully as fine crystal. “And therefore, I am in no position to say. But I trust that you have the right of it.”
The King strokes a soft hand down Yeona’s back and you hold perfectly still, as though you fear any sudden move will incite him. As though the reserved man you’ve been married to for all these months might spring on you like a bear trap if he’s managed to discern all the traitorous thoughts you’ve entertained.
But your husband does nothing of the sort.
His mouth tilts thoughtfully as he sits back to watch you, babe in arms. And in this picture of you and Yeona together, woman and child, he must see what he believes to be the solution to this dilemma concerning his lifelong friend. That can be the only explanation for what he says next.
“I think Hoseok is in need of a wife.”
You taste iron in your mouth.
⚜️⚜️⚜️
My Dearest Sister –
It has been some time since your last letter, but I have decided not to be cross. A forgiving spirit is but one of my enviable qualities and thus I have chosen to grant you a modicum of grace.
I write to you today with very exciting news. I’m in love!
His name is Chul and no, he is not of your acquaintance. It has been but three months since he and his father arrived in this village. He is frightfully handsome and best of all, prefers me to all the other young women who’ve been vying for his attention. I am the envy of the lot when we walk together in the evenings and always make sure to take the path closest to Park Myeong’s home because I know it vexes her to no end.
Dear Sister, he has asked me to marry him!
And while I suspect Father will be more than happy to see me married off in short order, I am quite certain that Mother will object. Chul is only yet a blacksmith’s apprentice but once he completes his training, he will be an expert. And I have no doubt of his ability to provide me with a comfortable life, though it will likely never meet our Mother’s exacting standards.
There is something else I must confess before I end this letter, something quite scandalous. And as I am unable to utter a word of this to anyone, I feel as though I might burst if I do not write it down.
A wondrous new world has been opened up to me!
I understand that the private delights enjoyed between a man and woman are nothing new to you, but this discovery has been a rather thrilling one for me. Chul and I are soon to be married and I cannot find good reason to forgo the heady pleasure of an afternoon spent with his hand up my skirts.
I will say no more, lest you faint dead away and someone find this letter next to your body.
I can barely contain my happiness. It feels as though I’m standing at the edge of my old life and preparing to dive into the new. The next time I write you, it will be to announce my formal betrothal and to share the happy news of my wedding plans.
With love,
Chaehee
⚜️⚜️⚜️
You fold the paper in your hands and stare blankly into the fire in the hearth, watching the flames dance as you consider every startling revelation in your sister’s letter. At this very moment you should be seated at your desk, furiously scribbling a stern missive back to your wayward Chaehee and warning her of the ruin that almost certainly lies ahead. But you cannot. You sit in your plush chair immobilized, unable to move or act or think of anything beyond her words.
Happiness. Love. Pleasure.
Your poor sister would be aghast to discover that you know precisely nothing about either one. That despite your status as a married woman – a Queen! – you are no more enlightened on these matters than she is. Probably less so now.
The flames in the hearth are dying by the time you finally manage to lift yourself out of that chair. You drop the letter onto the glowing embers below and watch as the paper burns bright orange and then black.
You watch until the edges curl into themselves and the pieces turn to ash and the fire consumes it whole.
⚜️⚜️⚜️
Love, it would seem, is catching these days.
Your sister is hardly the only one to fall under its spell. Everywhere you look, you see it – in the kitchens where the cooks titter about their suitors, in the laundry where the washgirls trade heated glances with the butlers. In the halls where a footman and maid break apart when you turn a corner, cheeks flushed and breaths labored as you pass.
It’s as though love is a contagion being carried on the crisp fall air, infecting everyone who breathes it in.
Well, perhaps not everyone.
The King remains unaffected by whatever madness has come over his people. His peculiar interest in you proves to be a fleeting thing, one that wanes as life returns to routine in the days following your illness. You take up your daily morning walks and afternoon excursions to the aviary once again and the King resumes his own afternoon pursuits, vanishing at midday with such punctuality that you wonder if he’s actually being timed.
But you cannot find it in yourself to be surprised or even angry at this turn of events. In truth, there is a sense of relief that comes with the respite from your husband’s attentions. Too much time in the presence of the King muddies the waters. And in many ways you find that it is easier to live between clearly drawn lines.
But there are other lines, too. Ones that are far less clear.
Not unlike the neat line of stones that frame the path you are walking this morning. You round the curve that passes close to the stables with a basket in hand, stealing glances from beneath the brim of the hat Hyeri had insisted you wear today. Slowly, the horse pen comes into view.
He comes into view.
It is astonishing that the man can steal your breath like this. That just one glimpse of him – lean arms crossed over his chest, brow knit in concentration, dark hair falling into his eyes – is capable of making your pulse quicken.
You find yourself drifting off the neat stone path, body moving of its own volition in the direction of the stables. The ground beneath you, dusty and dry from weeks without rain, crunches loudly beneath your walking boots and Lord Jung turns at the sound.
The slow smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth is enough to make you lightheaded with excitement.
But the sensation vanishes nearly as quickly as it comes on.
“I think Hoseok is in need of a wife.”
The King’s words come back to you in that moment, ringing in your ears like the steady clang of a watchtower bell. How much longer will it be before Lord Jung succumbs to the madness that’s taken over this place? How much longer before he announces his betrothal? The man could be in the throes of a grand love affair at this very minute and you would be none the wiser.
The thought makes the blood in your veins turn to ice.
“Good morning, Your Grace,” he greets kindly from his side of the fence, paying his respects with a deep bow. “This is a pleasant surprise.”
A surprise to him perhaps, but not to you. In the days since Lord Jung declared his plans to work in the stables this week, you’ve been able to think of little else. And though you’d not been entirely certain of your intentions as you’d set out for this morning’s walk, you’d become quite certain of them as soon as you’d spotted his lithe frame in the distance.
“Good morning,” you breathe, damning the blasted hat that forces you to lift your chin in order to see him properly. You raise a hand to your brow to shield your eyes from the sunlight. “I hope you do not mind this disruption. I saw new horses in the pen and could not resist the urge to stop and admire them.”
It’s a half-truth, of course, though you must admit the horses are quite beautiful. You crane your neck to take a better look at them, a pair of pretty females with small statures and amber coats. One stands patiently still as a stablehand inspects its hooves, the other trots gentle circles around a second man.
“They’re good horses,” Lord Jung says. “Docile demeanors. Fast learners. Nothing like that hellion I worked with last.” He shakes his head at the memory and you cannot help but smile. “I don’t know that I’ll ever come across another animal quite like him.”
“Well, that’s probably for the best,” you laugh and he laughs too, the honeyed sound of it making your heart soar.
“Is this visit made in haste?” He motions to the basket in your hands and you blink down at it dumbly, as though you’d forgotten it was there at all. “Or do you have time to come in and see them for yourself?”
You drop your head a bit, just enough to allow the brim of your hat to conceal the way you flush with happiness at his invitation.
“I’m in no hurry. And I would like that very much.”
⚜️⚜️⚜️
You stroke the horse’s muzzle with an open palm and the animal blinks its huge eyes, tail swaying back and forth in the wind.
She likes you – even without your knowledge of horses you’d be able to discern that from her relaxed stance and the happy sound of her nickering. She keeps her head dropped low and you reward her obedience with a firm scratch behind her ears.
Beside you, Lord Jung works a coarse-bristled brush through the horse’s mane, stroking through the strands until they shine. It’s mesmerizing to watch him work, to watch the tendons of his strong forearms strain and the muscles ripple beneath his golden skin.
“She’s comfortable with you.”
He doesn’t take his eyes off the steady work of his hands, but your skin prickles with awareness at his casual observation. It makes you wonder what else he has taken note of when you’ve assumed his attention has been elsewhere.
“And I with her,” you return, patting the animal’s strong neck. “She reminds me of my mare back home.”
“Oh?”
“Not in her appearance exactly,” you explain, “But in her temperament. She has a very sweet spirit.”
“That she does,” Lord Jung agrees, dropping the brush into a bucket at his feet. He reaches into his pocket to produce a small oat cake, a reward for the animal’s obedience which the horse is quick to accept.
“What is her name?”
“She doesn’t have one,” he admits, lips pursing thoughtfully. “I don’t think the King intends to keep her. I expect that he will sell them both in order to acquire a more powerful horse. One better suited to heavy labor.”
“What a shame,” you say under your breath, hand coming to rest on the bridge of the horse’s nose. She nudges you with it, urging you to resume your attentions and you oblige with a sad smile. “Not fair is it, girl? Being cast aside like that.”
Lord Jung is quiet for a moment, long enough that you lift your head to search for him and find him already looking at you. There is something stormy swirling in his dark gaze. He quickly averts it to look away in the direction of the castle and you watch with careful curiosity as he drags a hand down his jaw before turning back to you.
“There’s a creek in the woods behind me. Do you know it?”
“I do,” you say slowly, uncertainty flooding your bloodstream.
“Do you know how to get to the mouth of it?”
“Yes,” you admit, heart starting to beat double-time. “I do.”
“Will you meet me there tomorrow? In the afternoon. At the time you would normally visit the aviary.”
At best, the proposition is improper – and at worst, scandalous. You know very well that no married woman of good standing should ever agree to a clandestine encounter with a man who is not her husband.
But still you answer without hesitation.
“Yes,” you whisper. “I will.”
⚜️⚜️⚜️
Try as you might, sleep will not come.
You lie in the dark for what feels like an eternity, imagining shapes in the shadows cast overhead. Your entire body tingles with a nervous energy that makes it impossible to lie still or allow your mind to rest. So you toss and turn – until your bedding becomes a mess and your sheets become impossibly tangled about your limbs. Until you have no choice but to abandon the endeavor entirely and decide to shake off your blankets and climb out of bed.
You grab your shawl and sink into the chair beside the fire, pensive as you watch the embers dim and cool.
Somewhere in the belly of the hearth at your feet lies the remnants of Chaehee’s letter. The pages are little more than ash and soot by now, surely, but the words inscribed on them remain seared into your heart and mind. Impulsive as she can be – reckless as she can be – your brave little sister has still managed to secure the things you covet most in this life.
Happiness. Love. Pleasure.
They all have it, don’t they? The cooks and the washgirls and the maids. They flit about this castle like doves, preening as they exchange knowing smiles. All partaking together in some grand shared secret while you remain grounded, tethered by decorum and duty.
Well, no more.
You’ll not spend one more moment sitting idly by as the women around you do exactly as they please, paying no mind to the rules that have dictated every circumstance in your life. You’ll not devote another ounce of your energy to resenting anyone fearless enough to do the things you’ve always been too timid to attempt.
So you tiptoe back to bed, as though any errant sound might bring every servant in the castle running to your chamber.
You peel back the duvet and burrow back into your bedding, heart pounding in your ears. And then you slide one unsteady hand beneath the gauzy material of your nightgown and down to the apex of your thighs. Then you touch yourself – there – with a light press of your open palm.
Nothing happens.
So you do it again – firmer – spreading your legs a bit wider and feeling for the hidden place that has produced an unexpected shock of sensation for you before.
Nothing happens.
But you keep pressing. Again and again and again until your hips start to move of their own accord. You keep pressing until you feel a strange pulse there, the steady motion earning you an enticing friction that comes each time you rock against the heel of your hand.
You keep pressing and rocking until the feeling becomes a pleasant ache between your thighs, as frustrating as it is fascinating. Because though you find the sensation agreeable, it is nothing like what Chaehee had described to you so long ago. And though you can feel it – the promise of something more – you have no idea how to harness it.
You have no understanding of what comes next or how to make it more.
Eventually you have no choice but to abandon that endeavor too, limbs and eyelids heavy when sleep finally comes for you. And when you submit to it, finally allow it to pull you under, your very last thought is that you will try again.
Youmust.
⚜️⚜️⚜️
“Is the meal not to your liking, Your Grace?”
Hyeri lifts one thin gray eyebrow as she fixes you with a strange look from across the table. She nudges the plate in front of you and you blink, rousing from your daze.
The food is perfectly to your liking actually, the smell of the sugared toast and eggs enticing enough to make your mouth water. But your stomach is wildly unsettled this morning, already roiling beneath your skirts at the thought of seeing Lord Jung and you fear partaking in more than just a few bites of food will cause you to retch.
“No, no, not at all,” you shake your head as you collect your thoughts. “It looks delicious. But my stomach feels a bit weak this morning and I would rather not test it.”
“You’re not feeling poorly again, are you?” Hyeri asks, frowning as she reaches for the glass jar of jam between you. “Perhaps you ought to stay in bed today, allow your body to rest.”
“No.” The word flies out of your mouth with much more force and much more volume than you’d intended. Hyeri’s eyes narrow as she nibbles at the corner of a toast point.
“There’s something curious about you this morning, Your Grace,” she says slyly. “You woke up with your head in the clouds and now you’re as skittish as a colt. Is there something afoot you need to tell me about?”
A self-conscious heat rises to your cheeks. “Of course not,” you sniff.
But the skeptical look on Hyeri’s face remains intact. “You look well,” she murmurs, as though assessing the veracity of your claim to good health. Her eyes rake down the pretty walking dress you’d selected for today, one of your best. “You look very well, actually.”
Oh, you must leave this chamber at once.
When Hyeri looks at you like this, you feel as transparent as a pane of glass. The porcelain plates and cups on top of the table rattle as you quickly get to your feet.
“You are far too kind to me, Hyeri,” you say, careful to avoid direct contact with her as you gather your shawl and basket. “Truly. And I think a morning walk is just the thing to improve my appetite.”
“But – ”
“ – I have a very busy day planned,” you say, ignoring Hyeri’s half-hearted objections as you hurry towards the chamber door. “And I may decide to visit with the Min girls, as well,” you lie, grateful to have your back turned towards your handmaid.
“But – ”
You fling the heavy door open and briefly turn in the threshold, just long enough to see Hyeri’s wide eyes and slack jaw.
“Don’t wait for me!” you insist, forcing a wide smile. “I’ll return before dinner tonight.”
⚜️⚜️⚜️
You spend what remains of your morning in the aviary, alternating between attempting to read the book in your hands and staring up at the birds overhead, lost in thought.
What does Lord Jung want with you?
Contemplating the answer to that question is thrilling and terrifying in equal measure. You are in many ways – too many ways – still quite naive about the ways of men. Is he simply extending you a kindness or is there something more? The very prospect is fraught with danger.
But not even the risk of ruin is enough to stop you from seeking him out. And when the agreed-upon time for your rendezvous finally arrives, not even the threat of being discovered in a secret meeting with a man who is not your husband is enough to keep you away.
So you go to him – one careful step at a time, hiking your skirts to step over the roots dotted across the forest floor.
As you walk, a flash of movement catches your eye and you squint at it through the thinning trees. It starts to take shape as you near, the amber color of it sparking a realization in your mind.
A horse. No – horses.
Both animals come into view as you step into the clearing – the pretty mare from the stables secured to one tree and the King’s magnificent warhorse to another. Lord Jung stands at the warhorse’s side, his delicate mouth curved into a devastating smile.
“Your Grace.” He dips into his customary bow and you nod, incredulous as you take in the entire scene. “I thought you might like to go for a ride.”
Oh, but you would. In fact, your pulse leaps with excitement at the very suggestion. But you look down at your fine walking dress and sigh. “I would love to, truly. But I’m not dressed to ride.”
“If you think me capable of spiriting away both a pair of horses and a set of riding clothes, I’m afraid you’ve overestimated my abilities,” Lord Jung teases, causing heat to creep up the line of your back. “But the decision is entirely up to you.”
You silently scold yourself for voicing your hesitation out loud. This man has gone out of his way to offer you this opportunity, one you’ve craved since the moment you stepped foot on the King’s land.
You want to go. You willgo.
“Well, I – “ you flush a bit as you gesture at the amber mare, then down to your long skirts. “– I’ll need some help getting onto her, you see.”
Lord Jung’s dark eyes crinkle with amusement.
“Yes, of course.”
⚜️⚜️⚜️
The ride is glorious.
You’ll be saddle sore tomorrow, no doubt, but today you can only think of how free you feel riding on top of your amber mare. She’s an ideal mount for you, both in size and demeanor and you find that she follows your cues exceptionally well.
You follow Lord Jung’s lead through parts of the Kingdom you’ve never seen before — green hills and rolling fields dotted with wildflowers. And when you arrive at a particularly open stretch of land, you urge your mount to move faster and she complies, taking you from an easy trot to a gallop with surprising speed.
But soon – far too soon – it’s time to rest the horses.
Lord Jung helps you down from your mount, his hands firm about your waist as he carefully sets you on the ground. Surely it is only your imagination that he holds you just a bit too close and for just a bit too long. You breathe him in – take in his masculine scent of leather and sweat.
Being this close to the man scrambles your wits.
You let go of a breath when he breaks away from you to rifle through the contents of his bag. Within moments, he produces a skin of water and two apples, one of which you happily accept as the two of you sit down amongst the wildflowers to rest.
“This has been a wonderful afternoon, My Lord,” you say genuinely. “I hadn’t realized just how much I missed riding.”
“You’re good at it,” he compliments kindly, tipping his head back to take a drink. “And the two of you pair well together. She responds to you quite naturally.”
“Yes, I believe she does,” you agree, looking over your shoulder to where both horses are tethered. “And Jeonsa? He seems to do quite well with you. Is he biddable for the King, as well?”
Lord Jung puts on an amused expression and shakes his head.
“The relationship between horse and rider is a bit like courtship. Let’s just say the King has a bit more courting to do.”
The two of you share a laugh.
“Thank you My Lord,” you say after a while, “Truly, for all of this. I don’t know that anyone has ever gone to such trouble for me.”
Lord Jung’s dark eyes snap up to meet yours. There’s something puzzling about his gaze, something entirely at odds with your sincere statement of thanks.
“I wonder if I might ask you something of a personal nature, Your Grace.”
Your nails immediately curl into the fine material of your skirts, the pressure turning your knuckles white. But you are careful to keep your expression calm.
“Yes of course,” you say with a strained laugh. “Though I may decide not to divulge my answer.”
He looks away from you then, reaching for a long blade of grass at his feet. His expression inscrutable as he plucks it and begins to worry the blade between his fingers.
“Are you unhappy here?”
You take in a sharp breath. The question is far too personal, far too intimate to be proper in any way. But you find yourself answering it – truthfully – because he’s caught you so off guard you have no choice but to respond with candor.
“Some days,” you admit quietly. “But not today.”
Lord Jung says nothing for a while and the blade of grass between his fingers eventually breaks apart. He throws it down and reaches for another.
“The King is by no means perfect, Your Grace,” he starts, pausing as though he’s giving great thought to each word. “But he is a brother to me in all but blood. I’ve spent the better part of my life at his side. He’s a good man.”
The hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end.
Is this why he’s brought you here today? To make a case on behalf of the King? Your cheeks heat at the thought of every silly notion you’d entertained otherwise.
“Did he ask you to do this?” you demand, “Did he tell you to speak to me?”
“No.” His answer is firm, immediate. “No, I swear it. But I know that you have been unhappy since coming here and I just ask that you give His Grace a chance to make things right.”
You’ll hear none of it. The magic of the afternoon is gone now, the entire outing tainted by this tense exchange. By this reminder that Lord Jung’s loyalties lie with your husband, and that any kindness he’s shown you is little more than an extension of his service to the King.
What a fool you’ve been.
“You needn’t defend the King,” you say tightly, getting to your feet and dusting your hands off on your skirts. “I assure you, he has no shortage of people to come to his defense. And I think we should go now.”
“Your Grace, “ Lord Jung is on his feet now, too. “By no means would I ever want to upset you.”
It’s far too late for that, you think – the disappointment so acute it makes you want to double over. You turn your back to him and stalk off towards your mount, blinking back the angry tears that threaten.
“I’m not explaining myself well,” he insists, following you and taking firm hold of your arm. He turns you to face him. “I mean only to say that I know the King to be a good man. But even good men are weak to certain temptations.”
“And you, Lord Jung?”
You challenge him without thinking, the words flying out of your mouth before you can stop them. “What temptation are you weak to?”
The man’s dark eyes glint dangerously as he regards you for a moment, jaw tight.
“You’re right, Your Grace,” he says at last. “It’s time to go.”
thank you thank you thank you for reading this story. i’d love to hear what you thought and you can find me here
Hoseok’s had a long day, and it looks nowhere close to being over. He’s been ordered down to this one-horse town by his direct superior, assistant director Joan Kim, to look into a murder.
As far as he knows, Joan isn’t just in it to torture him, so there’s more to this than meets the eye. It would have been great if just this one fucking time Joan could give him the information instead of waiting for him to find it out himself, but he’s got to admit she’s consistent if nothing else.
He parks his car outside the police station, taking a moment to look in the mirror and wish he’d taken the time to change prior to driving here.
He’s wearing a black cashmere sweater, not a colour he normally wears, but his sister had convinced him he’d look suave and sophisticated for his date.
His date, a woman who took one look at him and called him for the cop he is and then asked nervously if he had done a background check on her. The date had gone downhill from there.
He hadn’t even had a chance to have dessert, and if he’d been a smarter man he’d have downed the rest of his wine to be over the legal limit for driving down here the instant he got the call.
As it is, he’s sexually frustrated, hungry and too fucking sober for this.
Hoseok forces himself to stop sulking and get his ass out the car, because the sooner he gets to the bottom of this, the sooner he can get back to his lonely-ass life back home.
He braces himself as he walks across the car park to the entrance of the station. Local detectives, especially in towns like this, are classically hostile to state detectives. He’s used to it, used to the sideways glances, the barely civil mutterings and today he’s on his last nerve.
The first person he sees as he walks in is you, and he almost walks right past you until you stand in his way.
‘Special Agent Jung Hoseok?’ you ask.
Hoseok nods politely because he’s got manners, but he’s already looking beyond you for the detective who’s meant to meet him.
‘I’m Detective Y/N L/N,’ you say, persistent.
Finally, Hoseok looks at you.
Usually, local detectives wear uniform in towns like this.
You’re wearing a slinky black dress and heels that make him wish your beautiful legs were wrapped around him.
He’s one to talk, in his black cashmere and dress trousers.
‘Sorry,’ he says. ‘I wasn’t expecting –’
‘Yeah, I was on a date,’ you say briskly, leading him to your office.
‘Me too,’ Hoseok says.
‘Yeah? Was yours going well?’ you ask, throwing him a friendly smile.
‘Not particularly,’ he replies, honest.
‘Mine either,’ you admit.
Hoseok wonders what kind of fool would mess up a date with you.
You brief him on the case whilst coffee brews in the staffroom across the way.
Hoseok clicks through the crime scene photos on your desktop as you give him the details.
‘The victim was a waitress at the diner down the street, a college student on summer break. She was found in an alley a few streets down three hours ago. The ME’s doing the post-mortem as we speak, but it looks like blood loss from multiple stab wounds.’
Hoseok’s waiting for you to get to the point, because so far there isn’t anything about this case that necessitates state involvement. Why is he here?
It’s like you can sense his impatience, because you say, ‘It’s the third murder in as many days, all the same MO, all young women in the street, all stabbed to death.’
Bingo.
Hoseok sits up straighter. ‘Three murders in three days?’ he asks, voice betraying his concern.
You nod. ‘Technically the last two were within 18 hours of each other.’
Shit. You haven’t just got a serial killer, you’ve also got an escalating pattern of violence. Hoseok doubts you have enough manpower in your force to deal with this, especially not with the time constraint.
He can feel the familiar rush of adrenaline through his bloodstream, the urgency of the situation finally galvanising him out of his sulky, sex-deprived, hungry funk.
This is where he comes in.
‘I’m going to need to make a few calls,’ he says.
***
Hoseok looks out of the window as you drive, street-lights giving him flashes of the town in between swathes of darkness.
So far, nothing seems to stand out about this place apart from the fact there’s a serial killer in your midst and that you’re the best detective he’s had the pleasure of working with in a while.
And it is a pleasure working with you, you’re smart and thoughtful and you don’t seem to have a chip on your shoulder about working with ‘the asshole from state’ as he’s heard himself charmingly referred to in the past.
You’ve changed out of your slinky dress into standard issue khakis and an oversized jacket, which means he can be less careful about where his eyes land when he’s thinking.
Thank God for small favours.
The first crime scene is still taped off, you look at him apologetically as you lift it for him to duck under.
‘My forensics team are on the way, so it’s good that it’s still taped off, for what it’s worth,’ Hoseok says, reassuring. It’s unlikely anything now will be admissible as evidence, given it’s a public location and he knows as well as anyone that a bit of tape never stopped anyone from going anywhere.
‘At least they’ll be able to spot the crime scene,’ you say, straight-faced.
Hoseok isn’t sure if you’re joking or not but it’s funny so he laughs anyway.
He puts you out of his head as he surveys the crime scene. He’s observant, he knows he reads a crime scene better than most. At first glance, there’s nothing that stands out here, the blood splatter on the walls correlates to the deepest pool of blood, the signs of a struggle fit with what he’d expect.
You tilt your head, secure in the knowledge you’ve not missed anything obvious in your investigation. ‘The next crime scene is half a block away.’
Hoseok falls into step beside you as you lead him to the next location.
He’s thinking, trying to put himself in the killer’s headspace, concentrating so hard it takes him a couple of seconds to realise you’re speaking.
He looks at you blankly.
You hold up your phone. ‘A call’s just come in – a domestic, I need to take it. Jungkook’s on the way but he hasn’t been doing this long.’
Hoseok nods. ‘I’ll go with you.’
‘You sure?’ you ask, but you’re already jogging back in the direction of the car.
Hoseok knows you’re still waiting on the post-mortems on the last two victims, and although it’s not ideal, without a lead, you might as well be answering call-outs.
You’re pulling up to the house, cutting the engine, when a loud crash resonates through the darkness.
Hoseok’s out the car, muscle memory from years of being a cop over-riding his natural instincts, allowing him to run towards the danger instead of away.
He’s in the open door, assessing the tableau in front of him in seconds. A man, grappling with an officer, a woman crouched beside an overturned table. Hoseok’s looking for any signs of children, and he huffs a sigh of relief when he sees none.
You’re already next to the woman, and although you’d been worried about Jungkook, he seems more than capable of bringing the man in.
Jungkook ushers the man into the back of his squad car, and gives Hoseok a suspicious look.
‘Are you the date?’ he asks.
‘Yeah,’ Hoseok says, before his brain engages.
‘If you fuck with Y/N, you fuck with all of us,’ Jungkook says, a snarl on his lips.
‘This is Special Agent Jung Hoseok,’ you say, voice exasperated. ‘Stand down, Officer Jeon.’
Hoseok doesn’t have any time to enjoy the flummoxed look on Jungkook’s handsome face because you’re slapping a hand on his back, hard.
‘Am I going to have trouble with you?’ you ask. Your voice is stern, but there’s the slightest twitch to your lips, like you’re suppressing a smile.
‘No, ma’am,’ Hoseok replies immediately, because he’s not a completeidiot.
‘Good. Let’s get back to the crime scene,’ you say.
***
The clock above the steel gurney shows the time as 4am.
Hoseok’s switched from coffee to water because his heart feels like it’s about to burst from fatigue.
You’re leading the discussion with the ME, a serious-looking man who introduced himself as Dr Kim. You’ve been calling him Namjoon, Joon even. It seems like you know each other well.
Hoseok’s wondering how well you know Dr Kim Namjoon. He knows he’s tired because he snorts when you say the contraction of his name again.
‘Joon’ and you look at him curiously.
To cover his lapse, Hoseok reels off the facts he knows, like he’s recapping.
Multiple stab wounds, most probably a right-handed assailant, tall, judging by the angle of the wounds. Probably six foot, like Dr Kim Namjoon himself.
Hoseok files that fact under things that annoy him about ‘Joon.’
As you’re thanking him, ‘Joon’ breaks into a smile, dimples flashing. He glances over Hoseok, as if assessing if he can be trusted to escort his precious Detective Y/N L/N safely at this hour.
Hoseok doesn’t falter as he meets his gaze. He’s not a cocky guy, but he knows two things. He’s a damn good detective and he’s good in a physical fight.
He realises you’re staring at him.
You put your hand on his arm, gentle.
‘Come on, you can crash at mine,’ you say.
Hoseok’s enjoying the feel of your hand on his arm so much he almost doesn’t notice when you say, ‘bye Joonie.’
Almost.
***
Hoseok wakes abruptly to loud banging. It sounds like it’s coming from the hallway, just outside.
Concern for you has him leaping out of bed, pulling the door open, assessing the situation.
He sees Officer Jeon Jungkook outside your bedroom door and takes two steps forward, looking past his large frame to check on you.
You’re standing in the door, and it takes a moment for Hoseok to regroup, because…
Legs.
You’re in an oversized, soft-looking t-shirt that comes to the tops of your thighs, which look so smooth and soft Hoseok’s got the urge to bury his face between them, use them as pillows to rest his head.
He realises you’re looking at him too, remembers that he hasn’t got anything on his top half.
He spends time in the gym, looks after himself, but he knows that’s not why you’re staring.
The scars on his torso tell their own story, one he doesn’t always want to share.
He’d spent three years under deep cover in Kyoto, Joan Kim had been his only contact with the bureau.
He owes her his life, and she owes him a goddamn raise.
Both you and Jeon Jungkook are staring at him, and you look oddly similar.
‘Are you related?’ Hoseok asks, as though it’s relevant.
‘Cousins,’ you say, closing your mouth.
‘There’s been another murder,’ says Jungkook.
‘Fuck,’ you and Hoseok say, at the same time.
***
The officer securing the crime scene looks relieved when Hoseok and you arrive.
‘Forensics are on the way,’ he tells you.
Hoseok nods and you both approach the body.
It’s another woman, dark-haired, lying face down.
That’s not what has Hoseok dropping to his knees beside her though.
There’s a ripple in the blood pooling around her.
You’re a step ahead, hand under her neck.
‘Fuck!’ you swear. ‘She’s got a pulse.’
Hoseok already shouting for an ambulance, helping you turn her over.
He works on her with you until the EMTs arrive.
***
Hoseok scrubs a hand over his face, phone pressed to his ear.
‘What kind of fucking incompetent idiot called it without checking for signs of life?’ Joan asks. Her voice is quiet, terse, chilling.
Hoseok’s seen grown men, seasoned detectives, crumble under Joan’s icy gaze.
He redirects her attention.
‘The medics have stabilised her, they say they can’t give us a time when she’ll be awake and lucid enough to talk,’ he tells her.
‘Any other leads?’ Joan snaps.
She takes Hoseok’s silence, rightly, as her answer.
‘Call in whatever resources you need,’ she says, hanging up on him.
Hoseok heads back to the waiting room, where you’re on the phone.
‘I’ve reassigned him for the moment,’ you say, referring to the officer who’d made the mistake.
‘I’ve been thinking about links between the victims,’ you tell him.
You bring up your laptop, pull up the files. ‘A student, a grocery store cashier, a librarian and a charity worker. There’s a superficial resemblance between them all, they’re similar in colouring, in their twenties. They don’t have anything in common. They didn’t know each other.’
‘What about where the bodies were found?’ Hoseok asks, considering.
‘Public places. Two in alleyways, one in a park, one near the canal.’ You rub your eyes tiredly.
‘Forensics put a rush on scrapings from under our latest victim’s fingernails, so far there’s no DNA match,’ Hoseok reports, checking his phone.
‘It’s a lead,’ you say. ‘He was sloppy with the last victim.’
‘Any leads from boyfriends, families, friends?’ Hoseok asks.
‘They were all single,’ you reply.
Your phone lights up, and Hoseok watches as you turn it over.
You notice his curious look.
‘It’s my date from yesterday. He’s been trying to get in touch,’ you say.
Hoseok frowns. ‘He knows you’re a cop, doesn’t he?’
‘He won’t stop calling,’ you say, absently, rubbing your neck.
You pick up your phone. ‘I’ll just call him and tell him to stop calling me.’
Hoseok watches as you get up and walk out to make your phone call.
He goes over the crime scene reports again, the interview transcripts.
When you get back, you’re frowning.
‘He wants to meet up later,’ you tell him, although he hasn’t asked.
Hoseok shakes his head, irritated on your behalf. ‘Is this what dating is like for women?’
‘I imagine it’s worse for women who don’t carry a gun,’ you say, matter-of-fact.
Hoseok thinks you’ve made a fair point.
***
The state forensics team haven’t uncovered anything new from their investigation. The DNA is still unmatched.
Hoseok’s spent the whole day reading reports, waiting for the doctors to clear the latest victim so he can take a statement.
It’s frustrating, to say the least.
Jungkook’s brought him some spare clothes, muttering something about ‘having the decency to be dressed when you’re a guest in someone else’s house.’
Hoseok had muttered something back about ‘letting yourself into someone’s house without permission’, to which Jungkook had given him a dark look.
You’d mediated by fixing dinner for all three of you.
After dinner, you’d given them both instructions to call you the instant they heard from the hospital, and had left to meet your date.
Jungkook had offered to go with, and it’s the first thing Jungkook’s said all day that Hoseok’s in full agreement with.
You’d rolled your eyes and gone out the door before either of them could stop you.
***
Hoseok’s trying to call you, but your phone keeps going to voicemail.
The fourth victim’s woken up, and she’s lucid enough to talk.
Jungkook glances at him as he signals to turn.
‘She’s not answering,’ Hoseok says.
Jungkook’s surprised. ‘She always answers.’
Hoseok’s got a prickling at the base of his neck.
Jungkook tosses his phone into Hoseok’s lap. ‘Maybe she’s screening your calls,’ he says, petty.
Hoseok gives him an exasperated look but tries using Jungkook’s phone anyway, pointedly ignoring the gym selfie he has as his wallpaper.
The kid’s cut, but that’s got nothing to do with anything right now.
Hoseok tries to keep the smugness out of his voice as he says, ‘No answer.’
‘She’s never not answered a call from me,’ Jungkook says.
Hoseok rolls his eyes at the pout in his voice.
The prickling’s getting stronger.
Jungkook pulls into the hospital car park.
‘Where did she say she was meeting him?’ Hoseok asks.
Jungkook’s back straightens at the note of urgency in Hoseok’s voice.
‘The diner near the park,’ he says.
Hoseok says, patiently, ‘What’s the name of the diner?’
Thinking about it, you fit the description of all the victims.
Down to being single.
Hoseok hopes to hell he’s wrong and it’s just that your phone’s out of battery, but he doesn’t think he is.
***
Hoseok’s out of the car before Jungkook comes to a complete stop. He scans the area, years of training kicking in, adrenaline pumping, heightening his senses.
He’s shouting, ‘Police’ before he even rounds the corner to the alley between the buildings, because he wants to be able to swear in a court of law that he announced himself before kicking the ever-loving shit out of the fucking asshole who’s on top of you.
‘Knife,’ you shout, and Hoseok takes a moment to be really damn glad that you’re alive, and conscious enough to warn him, before he’s disarming the man, shoving his face in the ground, arms behind his back.
Jungkook slaps handcuffs into his palm.
‘Check she’s all right,’ Hoseok grunts.
‘I had him,’ you grumble, before you pass out in Jungkook’s arms.
***
Hoseok props his phone up next to you so he has a reason for looking in your direction if you were to wake up suddenly, but he’s really just looking at your face.
You’re a little banged up, but you’re still the prettiest thing he’s seen in a while.
To be fair, he’s only seen junkies lately because Joan’s been a hard-ass about sending him to investigate meth labs in mountain towns, but still.
You’re beautiful.
Jungkook looks up from the selfie he’s just been taking.
‘Stop staring at her,’ he says.
‘Stop staring at yourself,’ Hoseok counters.
Jungkook rolls his eyes. His phone rings obnoxiously.
Hoseok glares at Jungkook as you stir.
‘Yes, auntie,’ Jungkook says, meek as he answers. ‘She’s fine. She’s in hospital but she can go as soon as she wakes up.’
He listens. ‘Yeah, the state detective is here too.’
Hoseok’s brow furrows, but before he can ask Jungkook to clarify, he realises you’re awake.
You’re looking quizzically at the phone propped on your chest.
Then you smile. ‘I knew I needed to worry about you,’ you say.
***
Hoseok manages to convince Jungkook to go out and bring back breakfast before you wake up the next morning.
He’s lying on his bed in your spare room, staring at the ceiling, thinking of all the paperwork he has to do, when you push the door open.
The bruises on your face are a little darker, but you’re still beautiful.
Hoseok thinks it’s encouraging that you’re just in a t-shirt.
He’s not sure if you’re wearing panties, but with the way you’re straddling him, thighs either side of his torso, he thinks he’s about to find out.
You put a hand on his chest, right over the scar from the stab wound he was dealt in a suburb outside Arashiyama.
Hoseok holds his breath as you trace over the pale furrow in his skin with your finger.
You’re looking at him.
Hoseok steadies you with a hand, and lifts his head to nip at your inner thigh with his teeth.
He curls both hands under your ass and pulls you forward so your core is right where he wants it.
Oh.
You’re not wearing panties, and Hoseok falls a little in love with you right there and then.
Your pussy looks so fucking juicy, right in front of his face.
Hoseok licks up into you, and you cry out his name.
He likes the sound of his name when it falls from your lips, the way you say it breathy, needy.
He kneads your ass as he licks up again. He slides a hand round to flick your clit, and suddenly you’re so wet he can feel it on his cheeks.
You’re not shy about rocking against his face, and Hoseok’s encouraged by how slick you are, how disinhibited your moaning is.
He wonder if he can get you to scream his name.
The thought gets him so hard.
He pinches your inner thigh, bites the softness of it, and you jerk.
Hoseok soothes you with a sloppy kiss over the bite, tongue swirling over the mark he’s made.
‘You’re mean in bed,’ you say, but you sound like you like it.
Hoseok squeezes your ass. ‘Get my dick wet so I can make you scream,’ he says.
You’re turning around, licking your way down his torso to the waistband of his borrowed sweats like a good girl.
You hum with pleasure as you pull his dick out, letting it slap against his abs. You slip a hand into his sweatpants, cupping his balls, and squeeze, so hard he almost yelps.
He definitely likes it.
You tongue the slit of his dick, swirling around his head, teasing.
Hoseok lifts his head to bury his face in your cunt, thumb pressing against your ass, hard.
You’re so wet you’re smeared all over his face now.
Hoseok hisses as you take him in. The angle’s not perfect, but he doesn’t give a fuck because he feels like he’s lodged so far down your throat he can feel you swallowing him down.
You pull back, and turn to look at him, saliva and his precum smeared over your lips, hair falling in your face.
Hoseok wants to see you covered in his cum, spurt it all over your pretty face, all over those tits that he’s neglected thus far but that he can’t wait to see.
‘Let me see you bounce on me,’ he says, voice coming out raspy because he’s so fucking turned on he can barely see.
You slip your t-shirt off, and your tits are as pretty as the rest of you.
You cup your breasts, flicking at your own nipples, and Hoseok already knows that however this ends, he’s going to try his damnedest to get you in bed again, because there are so many ways he needs to fuck you to make his life complete.
Hoseok nearly cums there and then when you hover just over him, and ask him, ‘where do you want to fuck me?’
‘Every fucking where,’ Hoseok replies, honest.
You give him a wicked half-smile and roll a condom over him, and sit down on his dick, which feels hard enough and hot enough that he’s worried he’s going to hurt you.
Your eyes are closed, and you sound like you’re enjoying his dick so fucking much that Hoseok pinches your nipple, hard.
You cry out, then your hips jerk, rocking back and forth and he realises you’re cumming, having an orgasm on his dick that you’ve only just put inside you.
Hoseok doesn’t tend to give a fuck where he is during sex. Top, bottom, upside down, he doesn’t give a shit.
The only reason he grabs your hips and turns you over, underneath him, is that based on how much you seem to be enjoying his dick, he’s pretty sure he can make you cum again.
Hoseok fucks into you, determined, rhythmic, changing his angle in response to your pretty moans, until you’re squeezing so tight around him he knows he’s nearly got you there.
You seem to like when he’s mean.
‘Hey,’ he says, hoarse, so close now he’s about to burst.
Your eyes fly open, and Hoseok pinches your clit, hard.
‘Fuck, Hoseok!’
Your scream as you cum again makes him spill so hard inside you it’s like an out of body experience.
Hoseok buries his face in your neck and floats until the ringing in his ears stops and the white behind his eyelids fades to black again.
***
By the time you both get downstairs, there’s cold coffee and croissants on the table and no sign of Jungkook.
Hoseok wanders in your living room whilst you heat up your coffees.
He rolls his eyes at a prominent portrait of Jungkook, a group photo featuring ‘Joonie’.
He stops dead at a photo of you with two people who look like your parents.
He yanks the frame off the wall and brings it into the kitchen with him.
‘Are these your parents?’ he asks.
You give him a funny look. ‘Yeah.’
‘Joan Kim is your mother?’ he asks, pointing with a shaky hand.
‘Assistant director Joan Kim is your mother?’ he asks again.
At your nod of affirmation, he lands on a dining table chair, feeling like his insides are collapsing.
You’re frowning at him.
‘Fuck me,’ you say, drawn out. ‘You’re Hobi?’
Hoseok feels faint.
‘Am I.’ His voice comes out croaky. ‘Am I going to get in trouble for fucking you in the ass?’
You look like you’re torn between amusement and horror.
‘Does my mother scare you that much?’ you ask.
‘She’s Joan fucking Kim,’ Hoseok splutters.
You shake your head, pitying. ‘Wait until you find out who my father is.’
Hoseok buries his face in his hands.
‘Who is he?’ he asks.
‘Kwon Ha Woon,’ you say, looking worried.
‘Supreme court justice Kwon Ha Woon?’ Hoseok practically shouts.
He gets up. ‘It was nice knowing you, Y/N.’
He makes it two steps out your front door before he’s turning around again.
You’re still sitting at the dining table, sipping your coffee.
There’s the faintest spark of mischief in your eyes when you see him.
‘On second thought,’ Hoseok tells you, pulling you into his arms, ‘I told myself that fucking you would make my life complete.’
‘It’s not the most romantic of propositions,’ you remark, letting him walk you backwards back up the stairs to your bedroom, ‘but I’ll take it.’
‘I’ll show you romance,’ Hoseok growls, pushing you back on the bed, climbing on top of you.
‘I’ll protect you from my parents,’ you promise, eyes bright.
From what Hoseok’s seen of you, he’s pretty sure you can.
GENRE NonIdol!Au. Wilderness!Au. Friends to Lovers. Smut. Fluff. Angst.
CURRENT WC 42k
SERIES SUMMARY Six months of quarantine have kept you apart. Somehow the distance sparks something new in each of you: questions, unfinished conversations, threads once chased now left cold. So when your roommate invites you to come with him to a mysterious house in the mountains with your friends, how could you even think of saying no? alternatively, watch the trailer
SERIES WARNINGS added to as each chapter is updated, as well as specified before each chapter: Untimely boner. Handjob. Nipple and breast play. Fingering. Unprotected sex. Size kink. Power play. Dirty talk. Voyeurism. Exhibitionism. Semi-public sex. Dom/Sub dynamics. Sex dreams. Dungeon. Public sex. Masturbation. Oral (f receiving). Edging. Orgasm control and denial. Group sex. Oral sex. Bondage and restraint. Praise kink. Cum play. Aftercare.
ANThis series is something I’ve been working on, bit by bit after long days of work! It’s become a bit of my emotional support smut, so I hope y’all enjoy the ride with me! I upload every 3-4 weeks on the weekends.
A/N: In which he thinks you´re a sasaeng fan and it leads to a bad outcome. Or does it? sjcjsdb It´s a little jumpy written sorry ´bout that
You were running towards the elevator because you saw the door open and wanted to reach it before it closed again. Getting the elevator in this hotel was a pain in the ass since it had 35 floors. As soon as you reached the elevator you stuck your hand out and stopped the doors from closing. You were breathing heavily when you stepped in and apologized immediatly. “Sorry everyone.” you said out of breath and when your eyes met the ones from man standing inside the elevator you swallowed hard. It was Kim Taehyung. You turned away immediatly and stared at the closed doors the whole time not looking at him on purpose. You glanced at the numbers and thanked god as you saw the 24 already glowing. Being a celebrity must suck, you thought while keeping your gaze glued to the door. Everybody always approaching you and the lack of privacy…gruesome. The elevator climed all the floors until it reached 24. A loud ping echoed through the tiny room and the heavy doors opened to a well lit hallway. The artist stepped out first since he was standing in front and you followed him. When he turned the same corner as you things got a little awkward because it looked like you were following him. Until he reached his door and you walked past him. Your room was at the end of the hallway and as soon as you reached your door you went inside. You let go your breath you didn’t even know you were holding. That was extremely nervewracking. To be honest though: He was a really handsome man. Even more handsome in person.
***
This elevator crap happened four times the following week and things got weirder everytime. You two did not greet each other and he kind of seemed annoyed all the time which was understandable considering his hectic lifestyle. It was a thursday afternoon and you went back to your hotel after you set last things in your gallery. You still had a few things to do to be prepared for your art exhibition tommorow. But you had all evening to do them. You walked to the elevator and pressed the button. As soon as the doors opened you stepped in and stood in the back. When you noticed that no one was coming you stepped forward to press 24 when the man himself walked in. You almost bumped into his chest but both of you froze in place. “Sorry.” you mumbled but he ignored it and stood in the back of the elevator. You moved along to press the button and the doors closed. Through the reflection of the metallic doors you saw him take out his phone and text something. You relaxed a little thinking that he forgot all about you when he spoke up.
“Hey, you.” his deep voice cut through the air like a sword. Your whole body tensed up when you heard his icy voice. “Pardon?” you said and turned around not believing that he just called you with “Hey you.”.
“What are you doing here?” he asked again as if he was entitled to something and your nervousness turned into something else. “Excuse me?!”
“There is no excuse for what you are doing no matter how much you like us. If you think that we’ll be flattered you’re wrong..”
“What are you…?” you tried to interrupt him but he just went over you like it was nothing.
“I tried to ignore you. But whenever I get into this elevator you’re here and you follow me to my floor. I guess I shouldn’t have gone to my floor the first time we met.”
“Are you out of..” you tried again but he wasn’t listening at all.
If the elevator wasn’t reaching your floor anytime soon you would jump this idiot and rip him to pieces. You glanced at the numbers and thankfully you were already at 23.
“Excuse me but..”
“No! There is nothing to excuse. I texted my manager and he called the cops.” he said and turned away from you and stepped forward.
“Wait what are you…?”
Ping! The doors opened and two men in black suits escorted him out while two police officers grabbed you by your arms and held you back from stepping outside.
“Excuse me! Let me go! I didn’t do anything!” you yelled now but there were looking unfazed. “Yeah yeah, they never do.”
***
“Sir please let me go. I have an exhibtion tommorrow and there are things I need to finish before I can open up my gallery. Please.” you tried to explain yourself at the station while the police officer was checking your data.
“I have a room on the same floor. I never followed him anywhere. I’m not even a fan I just know that they make good music. Please I have to go.” you practically begged and as time passed you stopped talking because there was no chance you would make it in time.
After they checked everything and found out that you were telling the truth it was 4am in the morning. You were mad, you were exhausted and you were angry as fuck. “We’re so sorry.” a higher ranking police officer, you assumed by his stars on his shoulders, stopped by and apologized in everyones name. “You just did your job sir. I won’t be able to hold my exhibtion tomorrow. I’ll send you an invitation if I ever get the chance again.” you said and faught back the tears.
***
It was 6am when you reached your hotel room and everthing in you told you to step down his door and punch him in the face. You told everyone in charge that you were not able to hold the exhibtion tomorrow and that you’d meet up with everyone to clear things up. You found a card on your desk with the logo of the hotel.
“We are very sorry for everything that happened. Please try to understand and forgive us. -BigHit Managemet.” was written on it. The card was attached to a bouqet of flowers and a basket of fruits. The miserable apology wasn’t even from him. They were fucking with the wrong woman.
You grabbed the phone and dialled the number of the reception.
“I have a message for room 2425. It’s really urgent and I advise you to tell them immediatly. If I don’t have an apology by tomorrow afternoon by the resident of the room himself, I will press charges and go to a newspaper. Have a nice morning.” you said and hung up.
***
You didn’t sleep at all. You cried the whole time thinking about your destroyed work and dreams to hold an exhibtion at the most famous galery in Korea. You must’ve cried yourself to sleep because when someone knocked on your door you jumped up from your bed. The clock beside your bed showed 1pm. You were totally disoriented and walked over to the door to open it. There he was with a bouqet of flowers in his hands nervously stepoing from one foot to the other.
“Hi.” he said with a tiny voice, all arrogance vanished. You didn’t answer him and walked back inside leaving the door open for him to walk in. You opened up the curtains and one window to let in a little fresh air. “Sorry for the mess. I came home at 6am.” you said while sitting down in the chair. He had walked in and closed the front door and now he looked like a lost puppy infront of you. “Take a seat.” you said while pointing at the couch infront of you.
Tae felt awfull. He could see how exhausted you were and you must’ve cried because your eyes looked puffy. He sat down and fumbled with the flowers he bought. “Look, I’m really sorry for what happened yesterday. I thought you were a Sasaeng-Fan. I got creeped out and overreacted. I’ll pay for another week in the hotel.” he offered thinking that he was doing something good.
“I was going to hold my first ever art exhibtion today t the most valued venue in Korea. But I couldn’t finish up because you got me arrested so I had to cancel everything. There is no way I’ll get that venue ever again.” you explained very calmly and looked into his eyes. His eyes went wide and horror went over his features as he realized what he did.
“I don’t need to stay another week, thanks for the offer though. I was very angry yesterday. If I had seen you, you would’ve had a reason to get me arrested believe me but there is no point in that. I just wanted you to know what you did. You might be famous and have good connections. Next time just talk to people before doing something so dramatic.” you said and got up from your chair. He did the same and put the flowers on the table because he was afraid that you would turn them down. “I’m really sorry.” he added and wiped his hands on his pants. “Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked but you shook your head.
“Greet your mates for me. Y’all are doing a great job.” you said and put on a polite smile while bringing him to the door.
***
Taehyung went back to his room and he could punch himself in his face. His bandmates were waiting for him in his room and when he explained everything he could see the disappointed faces. “Damn you fucked her over big time.” Hoseok said and Tae pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know.”
“I don’t think an apology does the trick here.” Namjoon said and Tae rolled his eyes. “I offered help but she refused and practically kicked me out.” “You can be happy that she didn’t push you out the window.” Jin said and Taehyung groaned. “I think I have an Idea.” Yoongi said and everyone looked at him. “Do we have plans for tomorrow?”
***
It was 8pm and you were standing behind the curtains at the venue to host your own exhibition. The manager called around 3pm to tell you that he had a free evening tomorrow night because someone cancelled last minute. Of course you took the chance and jumped at it. Now you were here, standing in black silky gown that brushed over the floor, with your heart pounding in your chest.
When you stepped out into the light you heared a round if applause and put on a very genuine smile. „Thank you for coming everyone!“ you started and prepared to give your speech.
***
„Damn she is beautiful.“ Yoongi whispered and Tae watched you from afar, how you talked to your clients with a sweet smile on your face. The dress was hugging your body in all the right places and your face was glowing from happiness. His heart ached at the picture of you in your hotel room that he caused. The boys entered the venue around half past ten so the main event could be over. They didn‘t want to draw all the attention and when they arrived everybody was already a little tipsy and admiring her art with their champagne glasses in their hands talking to each other in hushed voices.
Nevertheless when some people started recognizing the boys the conversations of your clients caught your attention. „Wow! What are they doing here?“ „Do they know the artist?“ You excused yourself from the people at your table and went to greet the newcomers. When you saw who it was you stopped in your tracks and watched them come towards you. All seven men were dressed in nice tuxedos and it was a celebration for your eyes. The tallest one reached out his hand as soon as they were close enough. „Nice to meet the artist behind all of this great work. I‘m Kim Namjoon.“ he inteoduced himself and gathered yourself together quickly because everyone was looking at you. As soon as you grabbed his hand to shake his hand a flash of light filled the room and a hundred photos were taken. You thanked god that you kept the reporters to a minimum. „It‘s an honour to habe you here.“ you answered with a polite smile and Taehyung immediatly saw that your smile didn‘t reach your eyes. „I hope you‘ll enjoy our evening. You can always approach me if you have questions about the pieces.“ you said and bowed your head before excusing yourself and leaving towards your table again.
„Oh man, she seems pissed.“ Hobi said as soon as you were far away enough and Jungkook nodded. „She‘s a clever woman. She added one and one together.“ Namjoon said and watched you explain one of your pieces to a tall man in an south african gown.
You were standing in the corner and tried looking relaxed when your asisstend rushed over to you and leaned in to whisper something into your ear. „The biggest piece is sold.“ „The name and phone number for the delivery.“ she added and gave you a card.
***
3 years later you were not only a succefull artist in Korea but your fame started spreading around the globe. You had fix art galleries in seven different countries. The venue you started at had your first art piece hanging in their lobby to greet their new clients.
You shuffled in bed as you slowly woke up and stretched your limbs. „Good morning.“ you heared a deep voice greet you from the other side of the bed and you turned your head around. There he was, hair tousled from sleep, eyes a little puffy from the late working hours but the happiest smile on his lips. „Morning.“ you said and leaned forward to place quick kiss on his lips. He wrapped his arms around you and pressed your body against his and rest his forhead against the crook of your neck. „When did you come in?“ you asked while brushing your fingers through his messy hair. „Around 4am.“ he yawned and you placed a kiss onto his hair while chuckling at how clingy he was. Your eyes scanned the room and you saw his stuff scattered around the room since he must‘ve changed in the dark to prevent you from waking up. When your eyes met the stupid painting at the wall the old feelings bubbled up inside of you and you pushed him away gently. He groaned and tried to pull you back but you didn‘t let him. „I told you a million times to get rid of that painting.“
„It‘s worth millions of dollars.“ he said without any emotion but you didn‘t care. „It‘s stupid and I hate it. I hate what it reminds me of.“ you said and he looked up at you. „It reminds me of our beginning.“ he pouted and you glared at him thinking of what happened. „Every newspaper talked about you guys going to an art gallery. You stole my show.“ you growled and he coughed into his fist and looked away. He wasn‘t getting out of this one. „You‘re art sold like crazy.“ he offered but that only made you cross your arms infront of your chest. „They said I took advantage of you and disregarded my hard work.“ you said and were getting more annoyed by the minute. „You didn‘t talk to me for a year. Even though I shot my shot several times.“ he with a raised brow. „I waited for the media to forget about our connection. I was not becoming the gold digger artist just because of you.“ you said and glared at the art piece.
„I hate it.“ you said and caressed you arm gently and placed a soft kiss against your skin. „If you hadn‘t gotten me arrested I would‘ve never had to try so hard to be recognized as an artist and not just „The artist BTS has visited“.“ you pouted and he smiled sheepishly.
„Yes but that would‘ve also meant that we would‘ve never met.“ he said and you rolled your eyes. „We had nothing to do with your success babe. It‘s all because of your talent. We just organized the venue.“ he let it slip and as soon as he said it he bit his tongue. „You did what?!“
***
You were putting the side dishes on the dinner table but for the boys it felt like you were throwing them at them. „Did we do something?“ Yoongi whispered towards Jin but he just shrugged his shoulders and looked at Tae. „Did you fuck something up?“ Jin asked him and he kept staring into his bowl until you came back from the kitchen. „If you ever mess with my life ever again, I‘ll make sure y‘all regret it.“ you said as you sat down and grabbed your chopsticks. „Now eat.“ you said and the discussion was over before it could start.
***
„Ugh..where are we going?“ you whined for a millionth time now and Taehyung smiled at your impatience. „You‘ll see.“
He parked the car in front of a big house and as you walked up the stairs you could see „Orphanage“ written on a sign. „What are we doing here?“ you whispered to Tae as you climbed the last stares. „Just wait and see.“ he said and led you inside of a room full of kids. They were all applauding as you came in and Tae lead you towards the stage where an old lady was smiling at you. Right behind you there was this big art piece of yours which had been hanging in your bedroom for the past two years. „I donated the painting to this orphanage. They can either keep it or sell it for however much they want.“ he whispered into your ear as you walked on stage and you looked up at him in disbelief. Your heart swelled with love as you watched this man infront of you. You spent the evening with the kids and they were totally oblivious to your fame. They were just happy to meet people who helped them.
***
You were watching him the whole ride back home and when he parked the car infront of the house you grabbed his hand and stopped him from getting out.
„I love you.“ you blurted out and his eyes widened at you confession. He already said it a few times but you were always were too scared to say it. But right now felt like the best time. „What?“ he said totally baffled and you smiled.
„I love you Kim Taehyung.“ you said it again and a devilish smiled appeared on his face.
„I can‘t believe I had to donate the most expensive thing in our home for you to say that. Is your love buyable?“ he joked and you let go of him immediatly.
„You‘re a fucking asshole.“ you cursed at him and opened the door to leave.
„Oh come on! It was a joke.“ he yelled after you but you slammed the door into his face.
„I love you more than I love that painting! You‘re my number one!“ he yelled after you while dangling out of the window of the car.
He was a stupid asshole. But he was your stupid asshole.
summary: do you think of love when the world is at your fingertips? or a story in which jimin dances on the dangerously thin line between love and obsession.
author’s note: requests are open for all members, i do not write smut, only suggestive content and you can send in whichever ideas you have, i will gladly write them for you :]
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