❁ Summary: Yn works for a very shady organization, her boss would not hesitate to destroy her if it is necessary, the mission is to scam one of Korea’s most powerful CEO, your plan is to seduce him of course, get the information required by your superiors and escape, if you fail you lose everything if you succeed you are set for life.
Little did you know, things do not always go as planned.
❁ Word count: 2,3k
❁ Genre: angst, fluff.
❁ Warnings: slight reference of intercourse.
❁AN: i know what are you thinking, why start a new series when i have 2 i haven’t updated yet? Sorry i couldn’t help myself, i hope you enjoy it my lovelies, plss write down comments to follow up.
You tuck your dress to side inside the car, automatically taking a look with your phone camera, your make up is intact, you needed to look more than perfect tonight, in fact, if something goes wrong you could lose everything that you had been working on the last two months plus having to face with your scary boss that would not hesitate to literally destroy you, so you needed to play your part well.
As you arrive to the hotel and the staff was quick to lead you to the event, soon a crowd of high-status people was surrounding you, everybody in their circle, even though it was a party nobody seemed to have their guard down, some with a bored look in their faces as they were sick of these kinds of events where everybody was pretending behind a friendly smile.
As you take a champagne glass from the waiter and sipped, your eyes were looking for the most important person in the entire room: Kim Namjoon.
“You see that man, right at my corner, he is Kim Namjoon” said your boss V sipping his cappuccino, his hands covered in golden rings, his casual but incredibly expensive clothes, the dead look in his eyes, his whole persona was from an outsider a classy man, but you that had work enough time with him, is still difficult getting accustomed to his intimidating aura.
You two were having brunch in a very fancy french place, in downtown Seoul.
Your gaze poses on the manly figure having a light meal with a bunch of middle aged men, he stood up dressed head to toe in designer suit, Rolex on his wrist, brown hair slicked down, he was handsome for sure.
“I thought that he would be forty year old with a decaying hairline” you commented pinching your dessert and having a taste.
“Me too” he looked at you “he is your mission” V grabbed a piece of your dessert and hummed savoring pastry.
“I don´t think it would be difficult, Mr. V” you glace again at man that was now lurking on his phone oblivious “It would take a month or two” you saw a little smirk on your boss lips.
“Well then, you better don´t disappoint” he called the waiter and paid the check.
You needed to catch Namjoon attention, after all you been studying this man for two months, every move you make is calculated and couldn’t allow yourself to slip up, V has made a significant investment in this mission, and you needed to pay your debt, you were interwind with a very dangerous organization and their business partners, if you couldn’t do the job they would probably got rid of you and replace you, but not everything is bad, if you do things right means that you are set for life, the bigger the risk the more rewarding award.
The bubbly persona that you had been studying was now on full display while you talk with some guests at the party, you haven’t even spotted Namjoon closest circle, so maybe chatting with some random people get you some information.
“And by the way, I know the reason why someone like Kim Namjoon had organized this business party disguised as a charity event” said the woman with immaculate appearance, crimson lips and big diamond earrings.
“Really?” you opened your eyes pretending innocence and surprise.
“oh yeah, I got some friends that occasionally invest on his company, they are generous so from time to time they go to lunch together, get invited to his parties, you know the drill…” she paused while you nodded pretending to understand “anyway, the point is that he was trying to pull investors for his new project or whatever and my friends recognized some not trustworthy people, apparently some new rich bitcoin coons, they warned him but he didn’t listened, I don’t know the details so don’t ask me, but he got scammed and lost face in front of everybody, now I was just sharing my theory with Jinyoung and Mathew” she said with a expectant smirk on her face.
“I’m intrigued” you lead her on.
“The excuse is the charity for funding schools in some god forsaken country, but all this flamboyant party is in reality a way to say that the scam situation hasn’t face him at all, like last month he’s on the news scammed written on big letters, but now he has all the money to spend in this lavish dinner and party” Jinyoung and Mathew agreed with her while you sipped your second glass of champagne.
“But the question here is all smoke and mirrors?” you asked rhetorically.
The three people nodded.
“I’m Jihyo, by the way” she offered her hand and you took it shaking it with a smile.
“I’m yn, is a pleasure to meet you” you responded, Mathew and Jinyoung also introduced themselves.
“What are you doing here, if you don’t mind me asking” said Jihyo.
Because you were training for this, getting into character you were not nervous at all, the trick to a good lie is to always take elements that are real and incorporate them into your story.
“To be honest, my boss sent me because he didn’t want to attend himself, if anyone asks, I’m instructed to said he on a wedding in Italy, he picked me for this event to represent him” you lied without hesitation.
“Where do you work?” asked Jinyoung.
“Do you know Park & Choi co.?” they all nodded “Then you are speaking with the assistant of their lobby’s departments president.” You added.
“Damn you must be good at your job, those people don’t let anybody that they don’t trust handle their business” said Jihyo impressed.
After chatting for some minutes, you excused yourself to the bathroom to refocus on your mission, retouching your lipstick in the bathroom two supermodel like girls entered, one clearly upset.
“Why he is so mean to me? I don’t understand!” said the girl whining.
“He is playing games is Park Jimin afterall, like you were supposed to enjoy the short time he gave you his attention” said her brunette friend.
You recognized that name, Park Jimin, one of Namjoon’s biggest competitors, also a womanizer asshole.
“I know Park Jimin” you said to them, catching their attention.
“Do you?” replied a little too aggressive the heartbroken girl.
“Yeah my friend was as devasted as you are right now”
“What did you say?!”
“Dahyun! Excuse her, I’ve been trying to warned her to lower her expectations but she didn’t listen” said the other girl.
“It’s ok, he is trash though” you added, both girls chuckled agreeing with you.
“Yeah, to be honest I wasn’t even supposed to be with him” said the girl named Dahyun “Like my brother hates him and everything” she spoke as she was about to cry.
Suddenly you recognize the girl, as Namjoon’s sister, you knew that she was a spoiled brat that knew no better that partying and spending money on unnecessary expensive stuff, the other girl must be her friend.
“You should had listened to Namjoon oppa, he was right about him” her friend told her, Dahyun rolled her eyes.
“You are so annoying, Nayeon, you always defend him, I know you are in love with him or whatever but be on my side sometimes!”
You raised an eyebrow, interesting, now you have competition, well she was pretty and all, but you would not take any chances to get the job done.
“Wait a minute you are mister Kim’s sister, right?” you asked her pretending surprise, she nodded. “Miss Kim, it’s an honour, I’m Kang Yn”
“Don’t get all formal all of the sudden” she said to you “I can imagine you are as bored as I am, and if you want me to introduce you to my brother, don’t, he is a sexist bastard and doesn’t do business with women” your smile slightly deflated at the fully composed Dahyun.
“He is not sexist, Namjoon oppa is just traditional!” defended Nayeon
“whatever” Dahyun replied to her friend “if you can excuse us” she said while walking off the restroom with her friend Nayeon following after.
You had to make the connection with Namjoon as soon as possible, you didn’t feel good about his sister’s best friend being around him, she was like a lost puppy, pathetic.
Maybe a cigarette could make things better.
On the balcony you pull out of your purse a cig just to curse out loud because you didn’t bring the lighter.
“Need some light?” a soft but manly voice asked behind you, you turn over and before your eyes was Park Jimin, the devil himself.
“Yes, please” you put the cigarette in your mouth and he light it on for you not losing the eye contact, you inhaled the smoke and then exhaled it feeling more relaxed. “Thanks…”
“Jimin, Park Jimin” he said with a smile.
“Oh so you are THE Park Jimin” you replied taking another smoke.
“so you heard of me” he stated playful little smile still on.
“Well some girls where talking shit on the bathroom” you teased, the man was attractive for sure.
“Let me guess, one is a brunette and the other is a black-haired girl” he asserted and you nodded. “That’s what I thought”
“You ex is a little upset let me tell you” you said to him, he laughed at your statement.
“Dahyun is not my ex, she doesn’t have maturity level enough to involve herself in a relationship”
“So you are a heartbreaker?” smiled at him smoking once again your cigarette.
“Not with you, may I have your number?” he said confident, it would hurt to say no to a very handsome multimillionaire, but it was something you had to do, because your life was on the line.
“I’m sorry, mister Park, I’m compromised with someone else” you looked at him in the eye.
“May I have your name?” he said with the same confidence that you had to smile almost flustered.
“My name is Kang yn”
“My pleasure, miss Kang” he said kissing your hand “And by the way before you go, if there is somebody that is heartbroken, that person must be me”
“And why is that?” you asked expecting another flirting line
“Mister Kim Namjoon himself, the host of this party, it’s about to marry my girlfriend, isn’t that ironic?”
You had to make seam as you didn’t care, but that was definitely something you were not expecting.
“Ironic?”
“I may have fooled around with his little sister, but he got with the only person I only care about”
“For what it was said to me, mister Kim didn’t have a formal relationship nor did he want one”
And it was true, you did well your research, what is this marriage thing all of the sudden.
“Because he is a business man, first, human second, the only thing that matters to him is money, for him it’s game getting with Jisoo and I don’t know why I’m telling you this, I’m sorry” he apologized lowering his gaze.
“You needed to tell someone that, Mr. Park, I hope you enjoy the rest of the night” you said to him turning around just to hear his voice again.
“Please call me, Jimin” he told you confident smile again on his face “and I hope to see you again” you nodded while walking away.
As soon as you saw the waiter with a tray full of champagne glasses, you chugged discretely three other glasses of the golden liquid, leaving you a little tipsy.
That changed the course of your plans, you studied the man, yes, his job was his whole life, but he was man after all, and a man has necessities, Namjoon wasn’t the exception, he always had a woman’s company maybe not every day but at least once a week, so when did he had time to engage to somebody, it simply can’t be.
The universe must hear your thoughts because there it was, Kim Namjoon with an elegant and beautiful woman under his arm, as you saw the shooting daggers that Park Jimin was sending with his eyes to them, you assumed he was with Jisoo.
What to do?
Maybe you should plan another time to meet him, like you didn’t have to marry him or anything just maintain a low key relationship, not necessarily romantic, to get close to all the financial info that you could get your hands on.
Feeling defeated and miscalculating some steps you almost fell to the ground but a pair of strong arms save you from your fall.
“Watch out, miss” his voice was warm, as you turned around to encounter a worried expression looking back at you.
“I’m sorry, sir, are you okay? You asked a little embarrassed.
“It is me that it has to ask you that question” he replied not letting your hands go until you got back your balance.
“I’m more than fine, just tripped with something, but thank you for helping me”
“I’m grateful that i was near to help, miss…?”
“Kang yn” you responded, today you had introduced yourself more that you were accustomed.
“You look beautiful today, miss yn” he took your hand and kissed it.
“Thank you…”
“Call me Hoseok” he said to you.
“Hoseok”
“My name sounds a thousand times better when you say it” he assured you with a smile.
“What a coincidence, mine too”
Hours and a few drinks later, Hoseok was thrusting inside of you making you moan, you were on his suite on this same hotel with a nice view, he couldn’t help himself when you took off your dress, leaving marks on your neck and sucking your breast.
It was a last minute thing, but it worked out.
You could not make a move that was not deeply calculated, sleeping with Hoseok was a full made decision.
But what he has to do in this whole thing, you ask.
Well, he is Namjoon best friend and business partner and your next best chance to keep your plan going.
Hoseok was your access to Namjoon, and you were not going to waste this opportunity.
The last thing you remember was how the hot guy in the movie for the million time had let down the protagonist of the series, soon you encounter yourself fast asleep on your very comfy couch in your cozy apartment, on friday night.
You were commonly considered as home buddy, so you love to stay at home on fridays and spend time with yourself, you went out from time to time but you were tired today, so you drank whole bottle of wine and started to watch a show on your waiting list.
And you were dreaming about a good deserved vacation until the annoying ringing of your phone woke you up.
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!!!
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 :)
⚜️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.
many turned up at his doorstep only to be brushed off, even his closest friends jin and yoongi couldn’t get him to come out of his house and when they showed up with all his favorite foods, they couldn’t help but notice the dark circles that covered his usually bright eyes, he looked like he hadn’t eaten and none of his energy remained, he couldn’t even force a smile for his brothers, they left without a word from him.
can a break-up really do that to a person? ruin them to the point of no return?
because that’s what it looked like to everyone. the jung hoseok they knew, the one who used to embrace everyone, the life of every party he’s been to, was no longer the jung hoseok that stood before them.
but people knew, how much he loved you, it was obvious with the way you two used to run around campus giggling and cuddling the whole time, known as the campus sweethearts, everyone used to watch in awe as you both proudly showcased your love to everyone, and now, all of that felt like a dream to hoseok, a dream he’s been harshly woken up from.
even right now, with all his friends staring expectantly at him with beer cans in their hand, not all of them faniliar with each other, their common link being namjoon and hoseok alone, with a cigarette dangling from his own hand, hoseok doesn’t feel ready to tell what happened between you two, he doesn’t know if he’s scared of the reaction or scared of living through memories that he wants to forget. he doesn’t want to forget you however, he wants to forget what you two had, because both of you were hurt at the end. and the last thing that he wants, even now, when everything has been over, is for you to hurt.
he’s tried to wish you pain, he’s tried to hate you, but every time your last moment together stops him from thinking that way.
you left because you had to before it killed one of you.
“you look better now” jin offered with a weak smile, it pained him to see his once ever so bright friend become nothing but a clump of dull energy. hoseok grimly nodded to that, he did look better now that he started eating and working out more, while they were merely distractions, hoseok still enjoyed having some normalcy come back to him.
they nervously looked at each other, not knowing what to say as hoseok stared ahead at nothing, even yoongi, who usually knew how to break the ice with a joke and make everyone comfortable didn’t utter a word, their friend’s state had silenced them all. hoseok could feel the silence, he knew it was because of him and it was suffocating him, he didn’t blame his friends for being quiet but rather blamed himself for the sour mood.
“jungkook” hoseok softly called out and jungkook immediately leaned forward to his direction, eagerly waiting for his hyung to say something.
“i heard you got your first job and tattoo, and you never even told me, isn’t that too unfair?” hoseok light heartedly joked and jungkook had a rosy blush on his face as he nodded happily, just glad that he was at least talking.
“i started working with jimin hyung at joon hyung’s bakery, and the tattoo just kind of happened, one day i just went to genius lab and asked yoongi hyung to do it, i didn’t even think of a design till i got there” jungkook filled hoseok in with the details of his life from the past few weeks.
“can i look, at the tattoo, i mean?” jungkook immediately got up from his seat to circle around hoseok and showed him the beautiful tiger lily that covered his forearm, hoseok lightly traced his fingers around the tattoo with a small grin on his face, marveling at the intricate design.
“ah jungkook, you’re telling me you designed this? no way, you have grown up so much.” warmth and nostalgia filled hoseok’s voice as he looked at jungkook with the eyes everyone was familiar with, sparkling and filled with love, jungkook almost started crying right there after seeing him look alive after so long.
“i did, i designed it myself, we can design my next one together.” jungkook’s word held a promise, he was going to design his next one with hoseok and he was going to ink it on his body.
“how has everyone else been?” hoseok asked, leaning back on his seat as jungkook returns to his and everyone starts filling in with everything they’ve been up to
jin mentions how university is kicking his ass with five assignments every week, yoongi fills in about how much this one girl keeps annoying him, namjoon explains how bike rides around the river is the most he’s doing these days, jimin shyly mentions his crush on his best friend and the others break into loud ooh’s at that, taehyung is cursing out his professor who won’t bump his subpar grade to above average and jungkook stays silent, only letting a few chuckles slip every now and then with how dramatic some of them got.
and suddenly, as if they’ve run out of things to fill the void, they fall dead silent, jimin looks at hoseok who visibly inflates after the youthful energy in the room dies as quickly as it revives.
“hyung, i’ve been worried sick about you, and i really am glad that you called us to meet after so many days, but i can’t sit here and watch you suffer silently so please tell us, we’re all here to listen to you” jimin pleads with hoseok suddenly, his voice strained and weak with eyes widened and lips pursed as everyone else silently thank jimin for taking the step that they were all hesitant to.
hoseok looks up at jimin’s thin voice telling him to get out of whatever bubble he’s built around himself, to finally tell someone what happened and why it’s ruining him the way it is.
“should we pour a drink first?” hoseok offers with a weak smile and once everyone nods, hoseok gets started about the story in his life he wants to erase.
how you and hoseok got together? it was natural, like on instinct you had to be with each other no matter what, you don’t know if that feeling started at that one party where you got too drunk and finally kissed him, or if it’s always been there and you both just kept denying it till you didn’t.
either way, when you finally got together, you both were so giddy and excited about it that you wanted to let the world know that ‘hey, i love you and i would choose no one but you and i need to tell everyone i’m in love because it’s the best thing i’ve ever experienced’.
and it was, it still is the best thing to happened to hoseok but at the end, he knew it was the worst thing too.
he tells the boys everything, from your first date to every fight that led to the end and they could only hear with wide eyes, they didn’t know that a couple who looked so perfect to everyone, would have so many cracks threatening a disastrous breaking apart. hoseok didn’t care if they were listening or not, he’s gotten used to not being heard but he was going to tell them everything regardless.
you both did everything in the world, with hands around the other.
you went to bungee jumping with him, you went to river crashing with him, you did assignments late at night with him, kicking feet with each other and getting distracted every time, you learned calligraphy with him, you learned baking with him even if you both ended up with flour all over each other at the end, you could just laugh and kiss it off because it didn’t matter, nothing else mattered when you were with him.
every memorable thing in your life had hoseok beside you and hoseok has never wanted to experience anything in his life without you in it.
you had your insecurities, he had his, you didn’t talk about your problems, he didn’t talk about his.
because together, you could forget every problem that plagued your mind, you could forget about the world that was hurting you and instead just stare at each other till sunrise.
soon, your problems and insecurities and his, caught up to you before you could run away once again, and everything you loved about each other quickly became things that started to annoy you.
you used to love waking up to his loud good morning, you would wake up and pepper kisses across his face with a sleepy smile on your face, chest blooming with pride that he was your man, later you just stuffed your face into your pillow and begged for him to stop talking. he used to love eating your experiments in the kitchen, either lying about how good they taste, or kissing you in reassurance that you can always do better next time, his own face twisting to a grin every time you would pout at your failures, later he couldn’t hide the grimace on his face as he swallowed and couldn’t bring himself to encourage you like he usually does.
it was the little things that changed, little things that had a heavy weight in the dynamic of your relationship and it wasn’t like you two didn’t notice, every time you would turn away from hoseok in the morning, his smile would immediately drop and he would silently leave the room, his mind heavy with neglect, and every time he scowled at the food you made, you wanted to never enter the kitchen again, you lost all drive to do anything again.
and slowly, the rush you felt whenever you touched him and the way his heart would leap every time you said his name, both of them faded.
that’s when the fights began, small like any beginning but fatal.
even if it were something as simple as leaving clothes on the floor, you both would fight like your life depended on it, yelling out words only to regret them as soon as you say them.
hoseok never wanted to hurt you, but he did.
you never wanted to hurt hoseok, but you did.
at some point, you both got too comfortable with fighting every day, brushing it off like it was a normal thing that happens to all couples, an excuse, a kind of solace to your breaking hearts that it was okay, it was all okay.
it wasn’t okay.
hoseok wishes he could go back and yell at himself for thinking it was okay, it was never okay.
unknowingly, you both would hurt each other to the point of crying all night and then wiping each other’s tears like you weren’t responsible for it, like you weren’t hurting each other, more so like you were hurting yourself while gripping onto his hands that gently swiped across your face.
that was the first thing that broke hoseok.
crying because of you, crying for you and crying when he was away from you.
you were his home, his broken, falling apart, moldy and dying home. but still his home. you would always be his home.
it got exhausting, but you couldn’t stop loving him, he couldn’t stop loving you.
you were the couple that everyone wanted to be, you couldn’t just up and leave because the words that would leave people’s mouths after would only hurt you more.
so, you stayed.
even if you cried every day, you stayed because at least you weren’t the only one crying, you weren’t the only one who was breaking and losing yourself, you stayed because somewhere in your heart, you couldn’t imagine a life that didn’t have hoseok in it.
you loved each other.
but love can only be beautiful for so long.
the mistakes come after the regret.
regret that if you lost hoseok as a lover, you would lose him as a friend, a companion you could lean on, someone who’s with you even after hearing all your stories, you could lose all of that just because your love was selfish enough to make you pay, your love was poison enough to feel like honey.
the mistakes, you’re not sure when they started, maybe it was when you stopped going to parties with hoseok or when you two intentionally went to different parties or was it when you two no longer looked for each other in a full room? you don’t know.
going to parties without your boyfriend and pretending like you’re single was your mistake.
going to parties and buying drinks for others was his mistake.
it wasn’t long before you stopped coming to his dorm at night, instead showing up to class with hickeys that he definitely didn’t give you and you would find someone else’s clothes lying around his bedroom floor.
he acted like he didn’t notice the hickeys and you quietly put the clothes you found in the trash.
it wasn’t that you forgave each other, you just didn’t have the energy to fight for each other anymore, neither of you were on the right, neither of you could blame the other, neither of you wanted to tell another soul about it, an argument would only end in you both admitting you were wrong.
and you didn’t do it. he never did it.
the boys stopped drinking, glaring at the glasses in front of them, frozen with this new information.
“hyung” namjoon slowly muttered, gazing nervously at his friend, understanding a bit of what was going on and why hoseok hasn’t been the same again, hoseok just gives him a pained smile and returns to silence.
namjoon never thought his friend would be capable of cheating, he never anticipated his friend’s girlfriend who would always give him a bubbly smile when she entered his bakery, was capable either.
and that’s when it hits namjoon that maybe people are a lot more capable to hurt than to love.
the thought scares namjoon, it scares everyone else in the room too.
you and hoseok cheated on each other so much but neither of you made the attempt to break it off.
they didn’t know what to think of that, they couldn’t judge their brother, it would be unfair if they judged you when they didn’t judge him, it didn’t matter who did it first, it mattered that you two moved on like it was normal, like cheating was normal, like being in pain when with each other was normal.
and they didn’t know what to say to him as he downed another glass of whiskey like it was water.
so, they simply just didn’t say anything.
they just let him speak.
the cheating didn’t stop, the lies didn’t either.
the love which you painfully gripped to like gripping to stones, was fading too.
and when the love for each other died, so did the love for yourself.
you hated yourself, he hated himself because you and him couldn’t save it, couldn’t save the relationship or your precious love.
you couldn’t save the relationships around you either, your strained relationship with your family only getting worse with the little effort you put in to be together with them.
your life and his were crashing on you, but you didn’t feel anything.
you got used to the burning in your chest with every movement you made and he got used to the sinking way his heart fell every time you hurt him.
it was like you kept denying, denying and denying, one shot of vodka and one night with someone else at a time, till you couldn’t anymore that something was very wrong with you two.
you only remember how you felt when you came one morning to see another woman in his bed, sleeping peacefully next to him and you didn’t say anything, even if you wanted to yell, kick her out and then yell at hoseok too.
you didn’t say anything, just closed the door and walked off.
hoseok remembers the way his heart twisted in his chest when he came to your apartment only for you to be wearing another man’s t-shirt, he ignored it, he didn’t say anything about the t-shirt, or the fading marks on your neck and clavicle.
you and hoseok were foolish enough to believe that it was just a rough patch, something that you will get over soon and you could slip into that honeymoon phase you used to float around in, often getting excited at the smallest action of affection from the other, something as simple as hoseok kissing your forehead before going to class was enough for you to hope that everything will be okay and hoseok would just be happy if he didn’t find someone else’s scent on you when he hugged you in class.
but your relationship was like a torn paper, no matter how much you try to put it together, it just doesn’t look the same anymore.
and you were the first one to realize that.
you stared at hoseok from your side of the bed, even in deep sleep, he didn’t look like he was resting, his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth twitching from time to time, it was obvious he was thinking a lot, and that’s when the weight of everything fell on you.
you hurt him, the one person you promised you would love, you hurt him.
you might have even broken him with how tired he looks.
he didn’t walk like he used to; slouching and trudging his step.
he didn’t talk like he used to; his voice had changed, slower and hoarser as the days go by.
he didn’t smile like he used to; his smile was forced, pained even.
and his smile, oh you used to love his smile, you used to love being the reason for his smile too.
you broke him.
and that killed you.
the first tear was silent and fell on the pillow, immediately leaving a stain on it, and then you cried, you cried and cried as sunlight poured into your room, your hands covered your mouth as your heart squeezed in your chest and hoseok woke up in a startle at the sound of a sob that escaped from your mouth. he hurriedly got up and looked around and then at you. he pulled you close to look if you hurt yourself somewhere and when he didn’t see any apparent injuries, he looked up at you again with teary eyes, he couldn’t bear seeing you in so much pain.
you didn’t stop crying, his grip on your shoulders trying to shake you back into sanity and his voice which urgently called out to you felt too distant to be true.
“i-i can’t find what’s wrong, please stop crying, please just tell me” he hurriedly said, softly wiping your face, frantically checking your arms and head again, searching for anything that could’ve hurt you but it was your heart that was finally bleeding after being plugged up with everything for so long.
“how could i hurt you?” you wailed, pushing your head into your hands, and hoseok paused, his tears building up again as your shoulders shook from how heavy your sobs got.
hoseok couldn’t deny the way his eyes-tinged red at your words, he couldn’t deny that he felt his own heart being ripped from his chest because you were blaming yourself when he wasn’t any better.
“i hurt you too” hoseok muttered defeatedly, his hand falling from your face onto his own lap as he stared off to the side.
defeat, that’s all he could feel. for someone who is used to victory, this was new, and he didn’t like it.
“we keep hurting each other hobi, why?” you asked him helplessly, your voice and his nickname were painful for him to hear and he shook his head, he didn’t know how to tell you that it will be okay because he wasn’t sure himself.
“y/n, it’s normal, happens to couples sometimes, we just have to hold o-“ he reaches for your hands, holding them tightly and rubbing circles on them, he knew you weren’t going to be happy together anymore but he wanted to try, he wanted to know if you could feel the same microscopic hope he did.
“that’s a lie and you know it” you bluntly said, voice hoarse but sure, and his grip falters so does his tiny bit of hope.
you look ready to leave and all he could think of was how to stop you.
“just listen to me, please” he begged, and your heart breaks at his desperate, slouched over form, you silently brought your hand to his forehead, pushing hair off from it and gently patting it back, sniffling every so often. your touch makes him flinch and then sigh shakily, it’s been so long since you’ve touched with affection and not venom.
“we can’t do this anymore; you know we can’t” you whisper as more tears fall down your face and you don’t miss the way he sobs a little and pushes his head into his arm.
he did know.
he fucking knew this was coming.
he’s imagined ways this day would come and nothing could have prepared him for this moment.
was this the end for you two? after all you’ve been through, you were going to end at 5 am on a random morning while crying into each other’s arms? is that what you’ve come to?
you slowly cup his cheek, allowing him to bury his face into your hand and cry, every time his tears touch your skin, you break a little more, and you don’t stop yourself from caressing his skin carefully, like it was the last time you will touch it.
“we’re just scared to be lonely” hoseok lifts his head in a shiver, voice laced with realization and you nod shamefully.
you didn’t stay out of love, you stayed because you didn’t know who would you go to if this was over.
love is a tender pain, and you’ve both experienced all sides of it. especially the worst part of it.
and with that said, hoseok hated himself for coming to that realization, he hated himself for knowing what was wrong with you two.
he wished that he just remained oblivious to everything, he wished that you never got up from the bed after he said that, he wished that you didn’t pack your clothes that were left in his closet, he wished he didn’t hear how you cried as you stuffed your belongings into different bags, he wished that you didn’t kiss his forehead and give him a final, weak smile before you left his room, he wished that he didn’t notice your scent twirling in the air, mocking him.
he wished you didn’t leave at all.
he spent many days, in the same bed you left him in, with your kiss lingering on his forehead, refusing to live without you. he lost count of how many tears he cried, he lost count of how many times he reached for his phone to call you and beg you to come back.
but hoseok knew you left for good.
you weren’t coming back.
and he just had to deal with that.
“i haven’t seen her since then, i asked her friends and apparently she went home for a bit, i don’t think i will bother her again.” hoseok ended his disastrous, tragic love story with a shrug.
a story to the rest of them but to him, he felt every word of it and relived through the memories he’s been waiting to forget.
hoseok watched as all of them gulped, they didn’t know their friend was silently going through so much and they felt guilty for not advising him, for not helping him sooner, it was only jin and yoongi who understood that any advice would have fallen to deaf ears with hoseok when he was still with you.
“that’s how it finished?” taehyung couldn’t help but ask, for two people who tried every trick in the book to stay together, you didn’t seem to try at all at the end.
“yeah, it just happened” hoseok says painfully and the boys felt pity, pity that hoseok or you couldn’t come to your senses sooner so you could stop before you got too hurt.
but the damage was done.
and the only thing left with hoseok was the silence that surrounded him and his friends who swore that another soul wouldn’t know about this.
hoseok, in some sick and fucked up way, still loved you. he still longed for the day you would enter his doorstep with the smile he hasn’t seen for so long but he’s glad you have better self-control than him and stayed away for both of your sakes.
for now, hoseok will just miss you until he can’t anymore.
his home, his heaven in hell, he will miss you till he moves on.
