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[joonclouds]

The Price Of A Wish | 5

The third time you meet Jung Hoseok, you realise the last ten years has done nothing to the way you were drawn to him, with a force as sure and inescapable as gravity.

CHAPTER INDEX

Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Idol!Hoseok, Chaebol!Reader, OT7 bangtan show up too,Slow Burn, Unrequited feelings, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Fluff, (we might include some other things later let’s see)

- 

The teacup clinks shrilly against its saucer as it is set down on your desk with a trembling hand. You press a finger to your temple. It's throbbing slowly, and the throbbing will not go away.

“Jungkook. Please stop staring at our guest.”

The comment startles him and the second cup of coffee (that you most certainly had not asked for but he had taken upon himself to personally make and serve) makes the rest of it’s journey to the table with a loud clang. Your assistant clutches the the tray to his chest with a small gasp and folds into a little bow, embarrassed. Though, he still sneaks a glance sideways and turns pink while gasping noticeably when he makes brief eye contact with Hoseok.

“S- sorry, noona.”

“Jungkook." You say, without looking up from your notes.

Hoseok notes that you say this like you’ve said it a million times before.

Hoseok smiles, trying to ease the tension in the room. "Comeon, ____. Give the poor boy a break."

"It's unprofessional, Mr. Jung."

"Oh, so we're on a last name basis now?"

"Unprofessional. I run a business, not a daycare. It's Ms. ____ in the office."

“Sorry! Ms. _____.” The wide eyed boy worries his bottom lip between large front teeth.

It was going to be a long day. With a small sigh, you wave him away, turning back to the documents on your desk.

“Thank you for the coffee Jungkook. We’re good here, you can go now.”

When you don’t hear the door open and close, you look up again to find Hoseok smiling at Jungkook, who looks to be on the brink of a swoon that would put any victorian era lady to shame.

“Jungkook.”

“Yes! Yes!” He snaps out of it, nearly dropping the tray but now standing at attention. “What can I do!”

“We can get a picture together later.” Hoseok stage whispers to Jungkook, and it makes the younger boy’s eyes go even wider. He nods his head vigorously with a wide smile and a scrunched nose. Hoseok suddenly has an image of a little overly eager bunny in his head.

"Thank you, Jungkook." You repeat again, this time with emphasis.

Jungkook's smile fades in a moment of realisation and mouths a silent "ohhhhhh". He nods in determination and mutters something unintelligible under his breath as scuttles to the door. You note that his hair has now grown out to his jaw (when did that happen?), and it’s fluffy at the ends. From behind, he looks like a little bouncing triangle kimbap. It’s just a little bit endearing, you'll admit.

When the door shuts behind him, Hoseok takes a sip of his coffee. Silence sits heavily in the air. 

“You don’t use your last name in the company?”

“No, I don’t.” You don't look up from your papers.

“And you let him call you noona?"

A begrudging noise rumbles quietly in the back of your throat. “I’ve known him since he was in diapers.”

“Well, we’re feeling chatty today.” Hoseok mutters from behind his cup.

You ignore his comment, thumbing your way through a stack of manila folders on your desk and slide one across to Hoseok, who sets the cup down and opens it.

“A contract so early on?” He looks a little smug when he flips the folder open to the first page. It's such a good look on him. It's so annoying. You want to slap it right off his handsome face.  “Look who's eager."

You resist rolling your eyes because well, it was unprofessional and in this moment you wanted to be the poster girl for Professionally Detached and Unbothered.

Was it just you or had his ego inflated twice its size daily in the past ten years? You can tell he's trying to push your buttons to get a reaction out of you, and he knows exactly where to press. You were just beginning to face the truth that maybe your heart hadn't made all the same changes your appearance had gone through over the years, especially when it came to Hoseok. All it took was a smirk and a sentence to ruffle your feathers; so easily he rendered useless your emotional detachment and the protective walls you'd built around yourself. And in the end... well. You were just you.

"It's protocol for anyone we agree to headline our masterclass series. The contract protects us from any associated damages like unfavourable press, and your intellectual property. If I had this my way, Mr. Jung, you wouldn't be sitting there at all. You're only here because the board voted you in, not me." Technically, the last part wasn't all true because you could have said no if you had really wanted, but he didn't need to know that.

"Mr. Jung?" Hoseok repeats the cordial salutation, and it tastes bitter.

"Yes, that's you."

Hoseok purses his lips. "Feisty."

"No," you counter. Over the last few bits of conversation you realise you've been leaning forward, and you make a special effort to recline back into your chair. "Professional."

With a tiny huff, he opens the folder again, holding it up to his face so that you can only see the top of his head. You make no move to fill the lull in conversation as he gives the contents a cursory read over. At this point, the less you said, the better. After a minute, Hoseok glances at you over the top of the file.

He's met with a raised eyebrow.

“Is there a clause you have a problem with?”

“No.”

“Are the payment terms not favourable? That’s negotiable if you wish.“

“No.” He abruptly shuts the folder and puts it back on the desk pointedly.

"What's not to your liking then?"

Hoseok's lips sets in a line, like he's trying to figure out a difficult problem. You could always tell when he was struggling to figure things out - that little furrow in the middle of his eyebrows was such a tell, even when he tried to convince you otherwise. It was a tell then, and it's a tell now.

“Well. I’ll give you a few days to look it over then. You can have someone send me the amendments, but in the meantime - “ you give your watch a glance, and then look back at him “ - we can head over to the conservatory to view the practice rooms if you have time.”

He leans forward on your desk and laces his fingers together, eyes searching your face, looking for even a hit of emotion but your brows are relaxed, mouth straight, and eyes flat and still and dark as a lake on a windless night. There is nothing there and he hates it. Hates it even more when he realises he cannot read you anymore. He doesn’t know why, but it makes him want to grab you by the shoulders and shake some sense into you. It gets an itch under his skin, like a pebble in his shoe, rubs him the wrong way -

“We’re really not going to talk about it, huh.” He settles on that, finally. Beating around the bush was pointless right now.

“Talk about what?”

“You. Me. Whatever is going on here?” He gestures between the two of you.

“The signing of the contract?”

“No.”

“Then I have really no idea what you’re referring to, Hoseok -“

“_____. Stop it.”

You set the papers you were holding and stare him down just as strongly so as not to belie the way the tone he's taken with your name still makes you freeze. If the way he’s eyeing you testily is anything to go by, he’s not going to let this go so easily. Hoseok could be the most stubborn, obstinate piece of shit if he put his mind to it.

After a few tense moments, you decide to give in. "Is this about the other night at the opening gala?"

"Glad you're finally ready to stop dancing around this elephant." Hoseok snorts and throws a hand in the air.

“You said your apology, I heard it. We've been through this already, I don't know what more you want." You reply levelly.

“Come on, _____. That wasn’t even close to a conversation.”

“Conversation, implying two willing participants.”

Hoseok gestures at himself. “Willing.”

“Participants.” You correct him, stressing the plural. “In case I didn’t make myself clear, this is me being very unwilling.”

“______, If you’d just let me - ”

Something rises from deep in your belly and presses against your chest- a ball of indignance, anger, resentment, general feelings, because how dare he -

“Has it ever occurred to you that I really don’t want or care to hear whatever you have to say to me?” Your outburst is sharp and so unexpected it makes Hoseok flinch.

"I'll only say this once. Who is this apology really for? Me? Or is it for you? Because somehow, after leaving me in radio silence for ten years, let alone what you did, my working theory is that you suddenly need something from me, so you're trying to get back in my good books. Or even worse, for some godforsaken reason, you grow a tiny shred of conscience so you stomp back into my life and demand that I hear your apologies and explanations. You come in here, upend my life so you can go on with a clear conscience? You don’t get that right. Just because the world hangs off your every word, Jung Hoseok, doesn’t mean that I have to.”

Your voice shakes a little on that last sentence, but that is all you allow him.

For the first time in a long time, Hoseok’s lost for words. There's a slight ringing in his ears. In his eagerness to patch things up, make amends, apologise, what have you, he realises with a sharp and sudden clarity that you were right. He’d not spared a thought if you had actually wanted to hear it or not. That whatever he was doing might be painful for you. That he might have been selfish. He thinks he understands that a little now, as he lowers his eyes to your hands, fingers laced, mirroring his own. You’re only half a desk away, but to him, it feels further than you ever have been in the past ten years.

“Look, Hoseok,” you begin again, using his first name, voice softer now, but back to the level tone you'd opened with before. Leaning back in your chair, you press a hand to your forehead briefly as you tighten the reins on your senses and responsibilities.

“We were... who we were ten years ago. We aren't those people anymore. Now, either way, we’re still going to have to work together, and I really do want the best for this program. I’m sure you do too. It’s going to be good for both of us. Let’s both just… drop this, okay? So we can do this amicably, professionally. Believe it or not, I don’t want to fight with you. I want us to get along well. Let us leave things as they were.”

There’s a sort of quietness in his eyes when he next looks at you, but it’s so fleeting you think you’ve imagined it.

“Okay. I don’t want us to fight either. I won’t talk about it anymore.”

He unclasps his hands and reaches across to extend one to you.

“We can be colleagues, then? Friends?”

You consider it, and him for a moment, and against your better judgement, you slide your hand into his.

“Okay.” You breathe. “Friends.”

He squeezes your smaller hand in his for a short moment before releasing it. It feels warm, reassuring, constant. There’s a short but much more comfortable silence as the two of you figure out how to re-orient yourselves to navigate this new dynamic.

“So you said something about viewing practice rooms in the conservatory?” Hoseok starts, and you’re glad for something else to talk about. Work. Yes, you can talk about work.

“Yes, I thought I’d show you some of the rooms today so you can see which you’d prefer best for teaching.”

Hoseok looks at his watch and then back at you apologetically. “I can’t today, I’ve got to start hair and makeup for a shoot on the other side of the city in about forty minutes.”

“It’s okay. Hmm.” You chew on the back of your pen as you flip through your planner. “Next week? Say… Friday, around three?”

“Works for me. There’s a cafe nearby as well, we can get coffee after if you like.”

You tense up, and clearly, it shows, because Hoseok immediately backpedals and you feel a little guilty. The two of you had agreed to try to get along well, and this was him trying.

“I mean, we don’t have to, if you don’t want to, I was just thinking, and I’m sure you have better th-“

“No, let’s do it.” You offer a small smile and he relaxes. “It’d be good for us to get to know what our creative and working styles are."

“That.. that’s great. I’ll text you, what’s your number?”

“You can call my office.”

"You're not really expecting me to -"  Hoseok rolls his eyes and holds out his hand. “Give me your phone, ____.”

After a moment of you not responding, he raises his eyebrows and thrusts his hand out to you again, spreading it in a come on, give it motion. You pass your phone over, albeit hesitantly.

He taps away at the screen for a few seconds. His own phone buzzes in a missed call before he offers the phone back to you.

“Text me.”

You reach out to take it wordlessly, but at the last minute he draws his hand back and your fingers close around thin air.

“Text me.” He empasizes knowingly. You try not to feel like a child who’s just been warned not to misbehave.

“Fine.” You concede, grumbling. “Give it.”

He slides the phone into your hand for real this time and standing from the chair. You say your goodbyes, and when the door finally closes, you heave a sigh and clutch your pen just to have something to grip, because if that wasn’t the most emotionally taxing meeting you’ve had this week -

“______!” The sudden exclamation of your name and your office door opening abruptly shocks you to attention. Your drop your pen, eyes wide and back ramrod straight.

Hoseok has stuck his head back through the door, and there's a smile he's biting back, knowing that he’s startled you.

“Text me, okay?”

“Jesus, what the heck. Okay, okay, I’ll text you,” You grit out.

His grin shifts into a lopsided half smile, and it looks so much like what you'd have given up everything for ten years ago that your chest tightens, whether you like it or not. 

“Just reminding you.”

And with that he disappears back behind the door, letting it swing shut. You eye it tensely for a few moments. Just in case.

When you’re sure Hoseok isn’t going to come bursting back in, you slump back in your chair, one hand on your chest to calm yourself, heart still going a mile a minute. Unlocking your phone to text Taehyung, you nearly choke when you see Hoseok has saved his number with a little sun emoji at the end of his name. It’s cute and you want to fling yourself out of the window.

Dont you dare. You say to yourself. Don’t you fucking dare.

- 

So you most definitely hadn’t planned your week around having the second half of your Friday free so that you could go home, take a shower, reapply your makeup, and then head back to where you just came from. You’d just felt grotty from a long day, and it was just courtesy to be well groomed, right? Those two full outfits laid out on the chaise lounge in your wardrobe that you’re currently eyeing? If they’ve been picked out with slightly more care? You pride yourself on being always perfectly dressed and all this pomp and circumstance was most definitely not because you were meeting Jung Hoseok, stop it, shut up, leave you alone.

There’s a soft knock on the door, and your housekeeper Madam Han enters with tea and a small plate of cookies on a tray which she sets on the small coffee table.

“Thought you might need snacks for whatever life crisis you’re working through in here.”

You make a vague approving noise in the back of your throat, and when it becomes apparent you’re not listening, she comes up beside you to peek at what you’re staring at.

“Date outfit dilemma, Ms. ______ ?”

“Mmm.” You purse your lips. “Do you think the pinstripe - NO?”

Your voice shoots through two octaves, but Madam Han just tucks the empty tray under her arm with a knowing smile and chucks you under the chin softly. “Never could fool me, little sparrow.”

“Madam Han, stop it, it’s not a date.” You fold your arms huffily and drag out the syllables, but your cheeks color anyway. Your housekeeper had an uncanny way for making you feel like a five year old caught in a lie.

No, hold on, it’s not a lie. This most certainly wasn’t a date.

She appraises the two outfits for a moment. “I think the dark jeans with the pinstripe blazer. Professional, but casual. Men seem to love that dressed down look these days.” Madam Han smiles fondly at you.

“Yes, I thought the - no, this is not happening.” You take your darling housekeeper by the shoulders with as much love as possible and steer her to the door, grabbing the plate of cookies as a last resort and thrusting them back into her hands. “Here. Please take these back. I don’t want them so you should go put them back in the jar. Or eat them, take them to Jungkook, whatever.”

Before she can get another word out, you’re closing the door in her bewildered face and stomping back to the clothes. You let the decision stew for another minute before you grab the jeans and blazer off the chaise lounge, muttering quietly under your breath.

You’re a leg and a half into your jeans when your phone rings shrilly for the third time in a row. Hobbling over to the little island counter in the middle of the room, you answer it and wedge the phone between your shoulder and ear, shimmying the pants over your hips.

Taehyung’s voice floats through the receiver before you’ve even had the chance to ask who it is.

“I’ve called to offer my services in solving the outfit dilemma you’re currently eyeballs deep in.”

You grab the phone from your shoulder and scowl at it for a moment before putting it back to your ear.

“Why do people keep saying that? I’m not having an outfit dilemma.”

“Don’t scowl at me. You are.”

“Did you install cameras in my house?” You look around the room.

“It was a hunch but thank you for the confirmation. And you always do that ugly scrunchy face when you’re caught in the act anyway. It gives you premature wrinkles, you know.”

“Do not.” You huff, but you relax your face.

Taehyung’s laugh rings crackily through the phone. “So? Have you decided? Send me a photo.”

You grumble a bit, but you figure your fashion afficionado best friend should be at least useful in times like these. Times like these, meaning a very non-date meeting. You finish buttoning your jeans, pull on a white t-shirt, and slip your arms into the jacket. Moving to face the mirror, you snap a quick photo and send it to him.

There’s a short pause and a ping as your message goes through.

“Mmm.”

“What does that mean?” There’s a panicked edge to your voice.

“It’s a good date outfit.” A short pause. “The Dior bar jacket is a nice touch. Makes your waist look small. I’m sure Hoseok will want to put his hands all over it.”

“Taehyung! For the thousandth time, it’s not a date!”

“Don’t sound so scandalised, princess. Thank me for validating your choices later.”

You scowl at your phone and finger mash the end call button, shrugging yourself out of the jacket and chuck it back on the chair. Grabbing your work bag, you sweep the essentials on your dresser in it and head out. The jacket grabs your attention again as you’re about to leave - it looks a little forlorn, tossed aside. You consider it for a long moment before swiping it off the chaise lounge and stomping out of your room, muttering all the way to the car waiting out front.

“It’s not a date.”

PREV / NEXT

[joonclouds]

.... ?????¿¿¿¿--?-?-?-???? Jungk- .... whaaaaa???

ok then. . .

[joonclouds]

Can i just say that I am living. LIVING. For yoongles with the longer hair? Ugh. It's such a good look.

yoongi? 😭

[joonclouds]

my GOD I have it so bad for these three. They’re so fucking cute and for WHAT? 

they are so adorable 🥺

[joonclouds]

*dreamy sigh* 

➛ happy joon 1st, 2021, everyone (.❛ ᴗ ❛.)

[joonclouds]

jungkook x rolling stone

[joonclouds]

aaaaAAAAAAaaaaaAAaaAaAaaAAAaAa. Thank you endlessly for reading this and supporting me by reblogging and leaving such a nice review. And for being so patient and encouraging 🥺💖 Sweet pea you deserve the WORLD! I’ll definitely be continuing this as and when I can. 

Btw hehe I think... that chapter 5 on a03 is due to my single braincell not understanding how technology works, and the chapter 0 became chapter 1 there 😂I’ll make sure to go change that so I don’t give anyone unnecessary adrenaline, we’re all suffering from heart problems from Butter comeback as it is.

The Price Of A Wish | Masterlist

The third time you meet Jung Hoseok, you realise the last ten years has done nothing to the way you were drawn to him, with a force as sure and inescapable as gravity.

Hoseok x Reader 

Genre: Idol!Hoseok, Chaebol!Reader, OT7 bangtan show up too, Slow Burn, Unrequited feelings, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Fluff, (we might include some other things later let’s see)

Word Count: Approx 20k (that’s how much I’ve written so far, will be releasing this in chapters!)

Warnings: Emphasis on the slow in slow burn.

Note: A longer fic for Hobi! My username is joon biased but I end up writing for hobi the most LOL.

Chapters: ZERO | ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX | SEVEN | EIGHT | NINE | TEN | (…)

[joonclouds]

The Price Of A Wish | 4

The third time you meet Jung Hoseok, you realise the last ten years has done nothing to the way you were drawn to him, with a force as sure and inescapable as gravity.

CHAPTER INDEX

Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Idol!Hoseok, Chaebol!Reader, OT7 bangtan show up too, Slow Burn, Unrequited feelings, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Fluff, (we might include some other things later let’s see)

- 

Hoseok throws down his suit jacket on the kitchen counter harder than he needs to and heads straight to the fridge, pulling a Perrier out and cracking it open. It’s only after he’s guzzled down half the bottle that he acknowledges the person sitting in his living room.

“Why are you here?” It’s more of a statement than a question.

“You gave me the code to your apartment.” Hoseok watches closely as his manager comes to stand on the other side of the counter, bracing his hands on it.

“I asked you why you’re here, not how you got in.”

“Where’d you go after you left the opening gala?”

“A drive.” is his clipped reply.

“You can’t. Just disappear like that, Hoseok.”

“The fuck, Hyunmin. You’re not my goddamn babysitter.”

“Well, your personality sure needs one.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes. “You go your way, I go mine, we meet in the middle for work. We keep out of each other’s personal business, how hard is that?”

“Very, apparently.” Hyunmin says derisively. “News flash, you’re an idol and for some reason very much beyond me, people actually care about what you do. And I’m your manager, so it is literally my job to make your business my business."

Hoseok just looks at him in the blank way he knows infuriates people. It works. He knows he's pushing buttons, but he's never been more in the mood to revel in some toxic behaviour.

”You think that situation with Sohee shut itself up? Who cleaned up that variety show debacle last month?”

Hyunmin braces one hand on the table and jabs a finger on his chest.

“Me.”

"Thank you, knight in shining armor." Hoseok even swoops his hand down in a little mock bow. “That variety show’s directors were intentionally framing us maliciously in post editing for bribes, and you know that. What, was I supposed to just sit there and take it?”

“No, I didn’t expect that, but you could have handled it with the snarky clever comebacks you always seem to be dishing out, or whatever it is that you have going on up in that head of yours. " Hyunmin snaps back. " But no. What do you do? Curse at the director, cause a scene, storm off the set. Like a child throwing a tantrum. Newsflash, kid, welcome to showbiz.”

"I've been in this business longer than you have, and I’m higher up than you on the food chain. Newsflash, Hyunmin, welcome to showbiz. Change your job if you hate me that much."

"Unlike you, Hoseok, some of us can't afford to change our jobs because we have actual families to care about."

It's a low blow and makes Hoseok tongue the inside of his cheek angrily, but he doesn't do it without a twinge of guilt. He doesn’t like his manager, but he doesn’t necessarily hate him either. Hyunmin was just doing his job and had gotten the short end of the stick being stuck with him - a snarky, do-what-I-like idol with flighty tendencies and a temper to match. If Hoseok was being honest, he hadn’t been trying to be the easiest to deal with either.

“Fine.” Hoseok concedes. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“The tabloids are already on to you. Whatever you’ve got started with the Aurarts heiress, I don’t know what President Kwon wants with her.” He exhales heavily and waves a hand in the air. “I don’t give a shit if you have to pull roses out of your ass - all I know is you can't mess it up.”

“Too late for that, buddy, I told you we had history. You think sending me in there as a surprise to her wouldn't fuck it up?"

“Well, I don’t care. Fix it, unfuck the situation or whatever. We need her.”

“What for?”

“Do you even care?”

Hoseok doesn’t say anything, just shrugs and takes a sip from his Perrier.

“Anyway, I came by to give you this.” Hyunmin fishes a manila envelope out of his bag and slides it over the table. “President Kwon says it’s your new project, non-negotiable.”

Hoseok sets his drink down, tilting his chin defiantly. “What, another variety show? Another commercial? What kind of fanservice is it this time?”

“Well, look at it, don't look at it, you're doing it anyway."

That piques his interest a little. Hoseok empties the envelope, scans the contents -

“I’ll do it.”

Hyunmin's folded arms go a little lax in surprise and Hoseok puts the papers back on the table with a small sense of smug satisfaction.

“What, first you lecture me on listening to management like a good dog, and now you’re surprised when I actually do?”

“Fine. But don't think I don't I know you better than that, Jung Hoseok.” Hyunmin barks, grabbing his bag and car keys off the counter. “I don’t give a shit what you’re planning, just stay out of trouble."

In the silence left to him he takes a final swig from the bottle and makes a face. He doesn't even like sparkling water. Everything is suddenly awfully uncomfortable. The bubbles roiling around in his stomach, the tag on his shirt is itching and makes him short of breath, his hand feels awfully cold from the drink -  dark green glass shatters against stainless steel as Hoseok hurls the bottle into the sink, water spraying in all directions.

A few droplets land on the documents, and he watches, uncaring, as the liquid makes the ink blotch and spread.

Fuck sparkling water. He needs a drink.

—————

It's a thought that comes more often to Hoseok nowadays, that he doesn't know when and how all this happened. This, referring to how he's on his third gin and tonic (more like gin and gin), glass in hand, mind cloudy, and letting the condensation seep all over the suede couch. (He doesn’t care it’s going to leave a water stain. Why did anyone even make suede couches? What a bunch of pretentious idiots.)

This, also referring to the stupidly big penthouse that overlooked the Seoul skyline. He’d picked this out by himself about three years ago - he’d been drunk off his face partying at a club on his last night LA when Hyunmin had asked if he’d already out a place he wanted to stay when he moved back to Seoul.

He still thinks it was a feat he had the mind to search Naver for housing options in the middle of an alcohol-induced haze, sent the one with the most ridiculous figure back to Hyunmin - and that was that. The first time he saw the place he was quite pleased, marveling at the city skyline spread out at his feet. But now it feels more like a hotel rather than a home. It may as well be, given how little time he’s spent here in the last year.

But more than anything, this, referring to the colossal mess, yet, not-mess that his life was in.

He’d arrived in the city ten years ago, literally nothing to his name but a passion and an already growing debt to the company he was signed to. But a certain dance practice video that went viral made sure that he shot to overnight stardom - the fans loved his humble, bright eyed, bushy tailed look and everyone wanted to know the dance genius who could also rap, sing and produce his own music. Fast forward ten years and he’s Jung Hoseok, celebrity and dance legend with a reputation for his sharp wit and an offhand attitude to life that oddly enough, charmed its way into the hearts of many. He does what he wants, when he wants, how he wants.

It’s very much a not-mess. Technically, he’s living the dream.

It’s also very much a mess, because living in a dream... well. It's hard to tell which parts are real and which parts aren't.

People telling you things because of what you want or what they want? It begins with subtle hints they drop (I think the audience would like it if you looked a bit more… soft, yknow?) and then before you know it you’re their puppet on strings (we’re scrapping that track, I’m sorry, we’ve decided to go with a really strong concept, we have some pre-composed songs that you can look at). Hoseok went - goes - along with it because well, all this fame and éclat is dizzyingly glorious, isn't it? Before you know it, it’s been ten years of people telling you what and how to do things and you have no idea who you are.

No one tells you about how you this life makes you want to drown yourself in it and never come back up for air, willing to live in this dazed limbo with no purpose, real beginning or end to anything. How at the end of days like this, without the lights and people and cameras to distract him from the quiet, he is left with a terrifying sense of emptiness. Each day, Hoseok quells it with a pair of designer sunglasses and a smirk, but the emptiness - it grows.

He flicks mindlessly through his Instagram feed, just for something to look at (makes sure not to accidentally like anything), and after three minutes clicks his phone off and tosses it aside, abandons it with his half drunk gin and tonic on the couch. Walks through his wardrobe, strips, and pulls on a pair of gray sweatpants, doesn't bother picking up the stay clothes. He stops mid stride in the middle of his bedroom, deciding to sleep in the living room couch instead, returning to his bedroom only to drag the comforter off his bed.

A shiver runs down Hoseok's spine and he makes a face when his torso shifts onto the wet patch from his glass earlier, but all he does is just tuck his blanket over the cold area, turning over so he can face the cityscape view; a thousand little blinking lights. Distantly, he thinks that each of these lights could be a person and wonders what all of these thousands of people might be doing.

Wonders if any of them feel like they have a black hole in their chests. A star, dying, forces on all sides closing in with a crushing pressure that is waiting to engulf all that it is into nothingness. Did you know? That because no light can get out of a black hole, you can’t see it? Black holes are invisible.

Shifting again, he rests his left hand on his right shoulder and pats himself gently in a steady rhythm. It lulls him into a clouded, dreamless sleep.

—————

Mornings are mostly unproblematic, generally tolerable and under control.

Granted, you’re not really a morning person. You didn’t necessarily like being woken up at the ass crack of dawn, but you learned to tolerate it. After a good twenty years following the same drill, it becomes the new ordinary. Bolstered by a nice hot shower, a relaxing morning skincare routine, and then once you discovered the wonders of coffee - some caffeine in your system; everything seemed a little more palatable.

Even Friday mornings, where you have to routinely sit through a weekly report meeting from your board of directors. Three hours (give or take, depending on how long the stick up their ass is that week) of telling people how to do their job while being fighting to be respectful and to be respected as a young woman in a room full of older, more ‘senior’ men. Maybe even that could be mellowed out by the promise of the weekend.

You tap the page of your open notebook with the back of your pen, going over the dot point list.

“Alright last on the agenda, where are we at with the masterclass series for the conservatory?”

“Ah yes, of course.” Mr. Choi quips.

Most of the people in the room wouldn’t have spared it more time than it needed - the moneymaker projects being elsewhere, and it being a non-profit initiative. You think you did well though, allocating this to Mr. Choi. He’s humble and cares genuinely for the best outcome. You can see from the meticulous presentation he's put together that he’s proud to show you his work.

“We’ve just concluded the first installation in the masterclass series, and the final artworks by the students are going up on display next week.”

You nod in approval, flipping open the folder. It’s a series of photographs of students holding their own paintings. Some are pulling silly faces, some with bored expressions, but each of them hold their finished canvas with pride.

“As you can see, they did beautifully.” Mr. Choi smiles, and your heart swells. “Jisoo was an excellent choice of mentor.”

“And you did a fantastic job of putting it all together.” The tubby, middle aged man beams at your compliment.

“Will we still be taking applications from students from the same schools this time around?”

“Yes, let's. I like the idea of bringing art to these schools”

“Pardon me, Ms. ____ , but if I could wedge a comment into this discussion - “

“Yes, Mr. Kim.”

Mr Kim clears his throat gruffly, like he can’t believe he needs to ask permission from you to speak.

“I just think that these masterclass slots would benefit participants more if they were to go to students from a more reputable school with more reach rather than …”

He trails off, and you don't wait for him to find the acceptable words.

“This project is about bringing down the overly curated, elitist image of art." You explain. "By opening the spaces to schools with poor funding and underprivileged students, we give them the chance to explore art forms which were otherwise not an option to them.”

“But Ms - “

"Was I not clear that this is why we started the masterclass series in the first place? To bring the joy of creation and art to the people who have been denied the opportunity?"

"These other schools would have students with more refined - "

Tired and having had enough, you shut the folder in front of you. You were the chairwoman of the board, and this was your meeting. “If you have any objections you can send it in the form of a report on Monday. Detail exactly why we should change our student demographic for the masterclass and how it will boost the conservation’s image as an organisation that aims to bring art to everyone, regardless of their social standing.”

This shuts him up. At the price of more whispers behind your back, but that was something you were willing to take. Another couple more wouldn't make a difference, anyway.

“Anything else, Mr. Choi?”

“Yes, we have yet to decide on the mentor for the next run. I’ve narrowed it down to two artists that we might consider approaching for the next series, which is dance.” At your nod, he clicks on a projector, a face popping up next to a short but detailed biography.

“Both artists have aIready expressed their interest in working with us. I was hoping we could review them today so that we’d be able to start meetings by next week.”

The first face is familiar - a sweet smile with delicate features framed by bangs and long black hair. You’ve seen her before.

“We have Lisa - she’s young, but already making waves in the community. She’s got a fantastic background in dance, graduating top of her class from Juilliard. Well versed in many areas, and she’s made quite a few appearances on big talent shows.”

A good candidate indeed, you think - she’d be very well rounded and able to cater to many different types of dance. Her smile seemed personable too, which was essential.

“She’s talented and a good fit. I can definitely see her potential, but I’m just concerned she might be too fresh to the industry. I want someone who knows it intimately. Knows the grit and dirt of it all but still performs like it’s their first debut. That fire.”

You twirl your pen between your fingers slowly, considering her for a good minute.

“Did we have another artist we were looking at partnering with?”

“Ah. We were originally going to move forward with Hoshi as the second candidate, but given the group’s coming tour, that won’t be possible anymore. But recently we’ve managed to find someone else whom I personally feel would be our next best choice to headline the next masterclass. Actually, I do have to give credit to Mr. Kim for making the connection here.”

You glance over at Mr Kim and he shrugs smugly, but you smile tightly and give a go ahead gesture to Mr Choi anyway, who fiddles with his laptop momentarily. A new face pops up on the screen, and ripple of approval to move through the room - this person is clearly an excellent choice.

Your heart drops through your chest, so quickly it makes you nauseous.

“Jung Hoseok has expressed interest in working with us.”

By some miracle, you gather your wits enough to manage a response.

"Do we have any other candidates, Mr Choi?"

"I second Jung Hoseok, Ms. ______" Mr Kim pipes up. You can tell he senses your reluctance; he's pouncing on it. "I see no reason as to why he's a bad fit. He's popular here, and even in Japan and China. This is KY Entertainment we’re talking about. President Kwon has expressed an interest in partnering with us before, and I'm sure the rest of the board would agree that this would be a good opportunity to get the ball rolling."

"I see where you're coming from, Mr. Kim. I'm just concerned that Hoseok's main... main focus isn't dance at the moment."

"Hoseok is also an idol and musician, but he did first start out as a dancer - a very talented one at that. I'm sure you of all people would be familiar with that information, since his shot at stardom started under the scholarship that your family funds, does it not? It is also a plus point that his humble beginnings align with our company vision."

Mr Kim leans back in his chair and laces his fingers over his lap. He knows he's won.

Your pen taps on the table out of habit, but you're the image of calm and collected. You pride yourself on being a logical person. Level headed and always appropriately detached when it came to making important decisions regarding future business developments. Challenging your word wasn’t frowned upon, you made sure that everyone under you knew that. But should they decide to, they had to make a damn good case with the facts if they were ever to do so - just because your arguments were ironclad.

As much as you hated the greasy man, he wasn't wrong, and you were the one grasping at straws here. Hoseok, you knew, was more than qualified for the position. So unless you wanted to explain to the entire board that your decision to axe the best candidate for the masterclass series involved your pride and a bout of residual emotions from a teenage infatuation, there was no way out of this.

"Mr Choi, what are your thoughts?"

"I'd have to agree with Mr Kim, Ms. ____. KY Entertainment is powerful. they would be a good partner to have on our side.” Mr Choi reasons. “And they’re not just offering us their rookie idols. It’s Jung Hoseok.”

You hate that it sounds like they're trading you a prime piece of meat, and you hate it even more that just his name is enough for him to prove how much he’s worth.

And that is how, four mornings later, Hoseok sits across you in your office, reclining into the armchair as he tests the cushioned give of its backrest. Your expression is schooled and placid, but he had given you a small smile nonetheless as he’d entered. The tiny butterfly that has wandered it's way into your office together with him flits across your chest, and you mentally shoo it out of the window with vigour.

Mornings are mostly unproblematic, generally tolerable and everything was definitely one hundred percent under control.

_______

PREV / NEXT

It's been a while, my friends! Enjoy the new chapter. Things start to get interesting here, and more characters will be introduced soon.

Thank you @ggukkieland​ on tumblr who is a sweetheart and actually noted this work on her cherished reading list compilation and motivated me to start where I left off. Life really happened to me in the last few months and I really neglected my writing, but I’m excited to try and get back into it.

As much as I write this for my own enjoyment, when people let me know they enjoy my work, it fuels me to do better!

Stay safe loves, till next chapter! x

[joonclouds]

Ongoing Series I Love ▪ BTS

I set up this blog, after being a silent (and tumblr-less) reader for years, so I can reblog fics I enjoyed reading. I also use it to create reading lists (which others have said they found useful 😁).

For my🎉 one-year blog anniversary 🎊 project, I thought of going through my archive to put all these well-cherished ongoing readings in a list (which I thought was a bright idea then, not knowing going through archive of posts will take weeks 😅🤭).

The fics are sectioned per member + OT7/Multi.

🖤Notes at the bottom of the page🖤

📚 BTS Fic Reads - 2021 May Special Edition (BTS + OT7/multi)

↳ KEY

bf2l - best friends to lovers

cf2l - childhood friends to lovers

e2l - enemies to lovers

f2l - friends to lovers

i2l  - idiots to lovers

s2l - strangers to lovers

fwb - friends with benefits

※  A - angst | S - smut | F - fluff

※ The chapter indicated is the last one I’ve read, might not be the recent chapter  

Keep reading

[joonclouds]

gon’ pop like trouble, breakin’ into your heart like that BUTTER (2021)

[joonclouds]

Got ARMY right behind us when we say so ♡

[joonclouds]

namjoon x butter mv

[joonclouds]

jungkook, the prettiest ♡

[joonclouds]

namjoon’s birthday countdown event by @btsgif

DAY 1: Effortlessly hot

cr. qdeoks, miintae

[joonclouds]

they’re so cute 🥺

[joonclouds]

The Price Of A Wish | 3

 The third time you meet Jung Hoseok, you realise the last ten years has done nothing to the way you were drawn to him, with a force as sure and inescapable as gravity.

CHAPTER INDEX

Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Idol!Hoseok, Chaebol!Reader, OT7 bangtan show up too, Slow Burn, Unrequited feelings, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Fluff, (we might include some other things later let’s see)

_________________

You meet Hoseok for the first time when you’re seventeen. It's in the early days of March - you remember because it's the time where Spring isn't quite here yet, so the evenings are still chilly. Getting to wear your favourite sweaters a few weeks longer is something that you still get a small thrill out of. You're a lot younger, a lot less jaded than you are now.

Leaning against the wall a ways off from the main crowd, you watch the guests in disinterest. It was laughable for a party of forty, at most, to rent such a colossal space. Surely even if it was a selection showcase, it was excessive.

Your family’s attendance to an event meant no expense was spared. The dress code is smart casual but a grand hall has been rented, with towering ceilings and a sprawling expanse of space. There was a live string quartet and champagne and little degustation canapes. Everyone talked in hushed voices, as if afraid to disturb the air around them. And what were they feeding with these canapes? Mice? You can’t even have real alcohol, just this stupid fizzy grape juice in a fancy glass. You think about the amazing grilled cheese that Madam Han, your housekeeper, makes and you groan internally, wishing to be anywhere but here. You’re sure your face says just as much.

“Yup, me too.” Turning in surprise, you find someone next to you.

His height is the first thing you notice. A good head taller than you are, and all black looks good on him, a silk shirt hanging loose and ripped jeans tucked into boots. He looks familiar, but you can’t put your finger on it yet, so you shelve that thought for later because well. There were more important issues at hand.

As a general rule, you thought all that "love at first sight' type thing was bullshit. You didn't buy into that sort of malarkey, and even if you did, it’s not something you got to have. But what was a girl to do in the face of .. well, a handsome face? Despite the remnants of stubborn pre-teen chub around his cheeks and a smattering of acne on his chin - things you're sure he'd grow out of in time - he's just your type of trouble.

Maybe you didn't know that yet, but all you do know is that when he turns slightly to give you a half smile, you freeze and your heart jumps like it's about to launch itself out of your body.

“Well. Someone's having fun.” He clarifies, fiddling with the stem of his champagne flute. You quickly look away, but not before noting his similarly bored demeanor.

"As much fun as you are, clearly."

“Yes, this is a riveting time.” He deadpans back, and the snicker he garners out of you breaks the ice like sugar glass. The both of you return to surveying the small crowd, but make no move to leave, enjoying the feeling of sharing in a certain kind of disjointed camaraderie. What is it they always say about shared trauma?

“You’re old enough to drink?” You tilt your glass in the direction of his.

“I’ve been old enough since three years ago. But legally, no. This isn’t alcohol.”

You sigh, but then a thought pops into your head. “Wanna sneak into the kitchen with me? The servers often leave the open bottles unattended.”

“Not your first rodeo, huh.”

“And certainly not my last. I can’t wait to be legal so these things become more tolerable.” You take another sip of your non-alcohol.

After a moment you ask again - “So? Kitchen?”

“You have no idea how much I wish I could, but this night is a sober one. Nerves and alcohol don't go well together for me.”

“Aaaaaaand he turns out to be even less fun than this party.”

This earns you a chuckle from him. It’s warm and inviting, a little buzz of electricity in your veins. Feels like if you’d been drinking actual champagne that evening. He nudges your shoulder playfully with his own when you cross your arms and angle your body slightly away in a small show of sulking.

“I have no choice, cowboy. I’m the showhorse. Gotta do the parade if I want my scholarship."

“Ah, Jung Hoseok.”

The puzzle pieces fall into place and you give him another once over out of the corner of your eye, this time with more recognition than before. Now you knew why he looked familiar - the identities of the artistes were all kept secret until after the selection showcase, but since you were your father's daughter, you'd seen the lineup beforehand.

"Yup, that's me." Hoseok downs the rest of his drink, grimacing. "And this entire thing is a show by a pretentious businessman who's already decided who's going to be selected."

"Looks like it's not your first rodeo either, you know how this works."

"Boy, do I."

"So why stay sober for it anyway?"

"I like dancing."

Hoseok's answer makes you go quiet. Whatever sarcastic banter you had lined up was halted in the face of such a simple, honest admission.

After a moment, he adds - " and I have a feeling it might reflect badly if I turned up tipsy to my first performance in front of the panel of directors.”

You shrug. "You know what they say about brooding artists and alcohol."

Suddenly, a thought comes to him. “Wait. You know me?”

He turns to you, and you can see him trying to figure out who you are, why you know him but he doesn’t know you.

“Of course I know you.” You state a matter-of-factly. “Jung Hoseok, the parading showhorse.”

“And you’re…. Mirae? The….cellist?” He takes a wild guess at one of the other performers in the showcase lineup that night.

“Nope.” You reply, popping your lips in amusement when you realise he has absolutely no clue who you are.

"You're not competition, are you?"

"Wrong again."

Hoseok squints in confusion and turns fully to face you, taking you more seriously now. “So who are you?”

Leaning in closer to him you tilt your glass in the direction of where the biggest group of people congregated in the middle of the room, deciding to at least have a little bit of fun tonight if you couldn't get your hands on the drinks. Albeit at the expense of someone else’s embarrassment, but it’s not like you two were close anyway. Consider it a trade off of sorts.

“See that man in the gray suit?”

“The CEO of Aurarts?” He frowns slightly. “Why?”

“He's the one who gets to decide if you get your scholarship or not, right?”

“Yes.” He drags the syllable out hesitantly. “Where is this going?”

“Well. In the direction of him being my very pretentious father. I'm sure you'll know my name soon enough.”

The colour drains from Hoseok’s face.

“Fuck-“ He begins, but quickly catches himself and bites his lips together when he decides that swearing in front of the daughter of the business magnate he just badmouthed, and who is coincidentally also funding his scholarship, isn’t the best first impression.

“Sorry. I. Uh.” He rubs the back of his neck with one hand. Gone is his easy charm - he’s now visibly perplexed, turning red and refusing to make eye contact. It makes you giggle, a bright pealing sound that seems to cut like a warm knife into butter. As it happens, the emcee’s voice crackles to life over the speakers, cutting your laughter short and inviting guests to take their seats as the performance is about to begin.

"There's your cue, and mine."

You sigh, quite content with your fun for the evening; Hoseok is pretty cute when he’s flustered. He's opened and shut his mouth three times and still trying to find a way to dig himself out of the hole he's in, so you decide to put the poor boy out of his misery and leave first. Pushing off from the wall, you offer him a small wave and mouth a ‘good luck’ over your shoulder. He manages a tiny wave back.

Between accompanying your father amongst the guests and making small talk with them after the performances are over, don’t get a chance to talk to Hoseok anymore for the rest of the evening. Sometimes you catch a glimpse of a silky black shirt and a charming smile, but not long enough of a look to know if he was looking back.

But you do get to watch his performance - it’s the last one of the night, and you don't know if it's intentional, but they’ve saved the best for last.

Hoseok walks onto the makeshift dancefloor, barefoot, and one more button on his shirt undone. Perhaps you didn’t notice it before, but there is a power with which he holds himself in his beginning pose, facing away from the audience, stance wide and hands crossed in fists behind his back. His head is turned, just enough for you to see his side profile, and you know he sees you sitting in the front row. You feel a shiver of excitement at the base of your spine. It pulses in rhythm to the opening beats of the dance track.

When he starts, you understand why he’s in tonight's lineup. Each movement of Hoseok’s body is fluid but perfectly controlled, matching the heavy bass tempo on the dot. Never early, never late. The music slowly starts to pick up, and his eyes turn dark, expression changing with every turn of the music. Joy, fear, passion and desperation tell the story of escape from old demons and rebirth into a new self. As everything reaches a crescendo, it’s like his presence expands into the cavernous hall that seemed to swallow every one of it’s tiny guests earlier, filling the space until you felt like the walls might burst.

One fist clenched and shaking in the air, Hoseok ends his performance kneeling atop a raised dais in the middle of the stage. The air is so silent and heavy with awe you can hear his laboured breaths. His smile is so bright and victorious, you think you might be dreaming when it is literally blinding you in the shine of spotlights. It's then you realise he's actually got braces on. Your heart gives you a quiet, endearing sigh, and you agree with her.

Applause erupts, a standing ovation is given. It takes you a little longer to collect yourself, but you stand with the crowd too, and clap until your palms heat and sting.

He’s not dancing to the music, you think. He is the music.

_________________

PREV | NEXT

A/N: And with that we’re all caught up with the chapters I’ve also posted on A03! You can check me out there if you prefer A03 hehe. Will be releasing future chapters at the same time from now on. Hope everyone is having a  ✨great day✨ xoxo

[joonclouds]

2021 winter package