#its unfortunate that benji tears them apart a little but someone had to do it

[pear1ridge-a]

tate is so so clingy w the people he cares about

[nipnapples]

dimple (A J-Hope One Shot)

This is for you.  You know who you are.  Love you babe, and i miss you a lot.  

Happy early birthday, Dollface. 

It was three in the morning, when your phone lit up.  

You were wrapped in your blankets, study sheets of Korean splayed out before you, Jay Park tumbling from your laptop.  You wouldn’t normally listen to music whilst studying, it was just a distraction, but you needed something to keep you awake.  You had an exam the next day, and there was no way in hell you were going to let yourself fail.  The light from your lamp cast yellowed shadows about the room, a cup of tea resting on the bedside table with steam rising slowly from the green mug.  You were cozy as you’d ever be, as cold October wind slipped through the loose frame of your window.  

You glanced at your offending phone, wishing it would shut up.  When it kept vibrating despite your best death glare, you flipped it over to read the screen.  A picture of a smiling, goofy redhead lit the screen.  The apples of his cheeks pressed his eyes into soft crescents, and your heart stuttered at the thought of those eyes and that smile.  Oh god, his smile.  The way his soft, plush lips stretched, releasing his laugh that killed you a thousand times over.   

Hobi.  

You hadn’t spoken to your best friend in six months, not since the night he basically told you that you weren’t good enough for him.  That you weren’t, and were never going to be, what he wanted.  You had swallowed your pride, dug your nails into your palms so you wouldn’t slap him, and walked away.  He had tried to call you, text you, even email you after that night, but you had held your ground and stood up for yourself.  

You weren’t going to break now.  

You rejected the call, turned up Aquaman, and returned to your work.  

About three minutes later the phone rang again.  Again Hobi’s grin flashes across your screen, knocking the air out of you again, causing your hands to shake as you again hit the reject button.  

He doesn’t call back a third time, and you try to ignore the little well of disappointment in your chest.  You didn’t want him to call back, anyways, you remind yourself.  Stay strong, your brain hisses at you.  Stay strong, you are strong, and he’s a dick.  

You’re able to distract yourself again with your work and a little bit of Tumblr, when it begins to hail outside.  

And then it stops.  And then starts again.  And then stops.  

You look out your window and realize someone is throwing gravel from your driveway at your window.  They’re throwing it in handfuls, pausing between each to scoop up another fistful.  

You grind your teeth, praying and hoping it's not who you know it is.  You stand at the window, looking down into the dark, to the streak of light coming from the porch.  Standing, well, actually crouching, in your driveway is none other than the devil himself.  Hobi.  You can’t quite tell in the yellow light of the front porch, but you’re pretty sure he’s dyed his hair black again, something that makes your mouth go dry.  

You want to slap yourself.  He’s not even your friend anymore, much less someone you can lust after.  

But there he is, raising himself up with another load of rocks to chuck at your window.  His face is wide, and open, innocent.  So innocent that you almost forget the things he didn’t do six months before.  At the thought, anger builds in your chest and you fling the window open with a crack.  

Unfortunately you do this at the exact moment Hobi decides to release his handful at your window, and you are showered in pings of stone.  You take a step back, cowering for a moment.  This makes you even angrier.  

“What the fucking fuck?” You snap down at him, stepping back up to the window and flashing your best death glare at the skinny boy below.  

He freezes, “Ah! Y/N! I-I didn’t mean to...I didn’t-”  Its clear he feels bad for showering you in rocks, but you have no desire to hear him.

“What do you want?” You don’t really want to hear the answer, you’re hoping that he’ll give up and go home.  But...There is a small voice that whispers “want me.  Need me.  C’mon, Hobi, don’t give up on me.”   You try to swallow this voice, but it sticks in your throat.  

Hobi shuffles below your window a bit, kicking at the grass with the toe of his combat boot.  “Can I come up?  I don’t wanna shout from down here.”

You snort.  “Hobi, you’re always shouting, what difference does it make?”  For a second it feels like nothing has changed, that he’s still your best friend, your secret crush who you like to poke in the ribs for fun.  He glances up at the smile in your voice, but his face falls when he sees the scowl you’ve hung in its place.  

“I really need to talk to you, Y/N.  Please.  I need to talk to you.”  

“So fucking talk Hobi.”

He pauses, knowing full well that you’ll never let him up, that you truly hate him at this moment.    

I don’t hate you that annoying voice seems to scream from inside of you.  I don’t hate you! I hate what you are, what you want to be!  But I don’t hate you Hobi! I could never hate you.  

Again, you try to push the voice away, but it decides to manifest itself in tears that prick at your eyes.  You angrily scrub at them, not wanting to be weak at this moment.  Hobi is still watching you, his eyes are sad, and you could almost swear that he was crying too.  But that couldn’t be.  This new Hobi, the one who agreed with the other frat boys, agreed that no one “would want to fuck something that was so fugly”, the new Hobi who abandoned you because of wanting to fit in for once, the one who thought you weren’t good enough, this new Hobi didn’t cry over you.  He didn’t need you.  

“Please.  I miss you.  I miss you so much.  I fucked up, okay?  I seriously, majorly, hugely fucked up.”  He pushed his hands through his black hair, lifting the fringe of his bangs messily from his forehead.  “Please let me come up, please let me talk to you.”  

You stared down, unspeaking, and you felt the walls around your heart tumbled apart and the angry part of your heart cursed quietly as the sad part, the desperate part, took complete control.  

You gestured with your hand, motioning for him to climb the porch roof, as he had done so many times before when you were kids, when you were teens, and then recently when you both were home from school breaks.  He scrambled quickly over the railing, lifting himself up with wiry but surprisingly strong arms.  Soon, he was swinging his leg over the lip of your window, and crumpling on the floor in a heap as he tripped inside.  He was still all limbs, long legs and arms, and you shook your head.  It had been a few months, not years, since you saw him.  

But there was still that large gap in your heart he had left, when he had decided to side with the boys of the frat he was joining.  

It had been in April, when classes had just began to wind down, in your junior year.  He had invited you to the party, and up until then, you’d been quite careful staying out of that world of Hobi’s.  What was the point of mixing into the world of pretty skinny girls when you were their opposite, with glasses, hair that rarely wanted to behave, and curves that made everyone else uncomfortable with how comfortable you were with them.  

You’d agreed to go that night, because Hobi had promised to stick with you, complained that you hadn’t given the guys a chance.  You knew you didn’t need to give them a chance, but there was something about the way Hobi pleaded with you, clung you you, even whined at you that made you agree.  

You decided to dress up a little, with a black mesh shirt and a violet bralette.  Black skinny jeans, your go-to, and a pair of pretty grey flats completed the look.  You did your makeup, subtle but in a dramatic way that highlighted you eyes, with deep cranberry lips.  A small part of you wanted Hobi to notice you, finally, as more than just the weird chubby kid he played Pokemon with on the playground.  You wanted him to see you, really see you.  Just once.  

You got to the party, and couldn’t find Hobi anywhere.  You slipped in, trying to blend in with the drunken, writhing mass before you, but you felt uncomfortable.  You knew you didn’t belong, they knew you didn’t belong, even the house knew you didn’t belong. You raised your hand at Namjoon, one of Hobi’s friends who you actually enjoyed being around, and he lifted his mouth in a half smile, his eyes raking up and down your body in a way that made you flush.  It made you flush, but not in an entirely bad way.  

You stepped into the kitchen, eyes scanning for him.  Then you spotted him, you’d know that cherry head anywhere.  You raised your hand in greeting, mouth opening to catch his attention, when Benji appeared in front of you, mouth cocked in a mean smirk, broad chest blocking your way.  

You yelped when he stepped on your foot, hard. And you knew it wasn’t an accident from the look in his eyes.  

“Who the fuck let you in?”  He sneered now, his breath smelled thickly of booze.  

“Heya, Benji! So lovely seeing you, as always!” You smiled pleasantly and attempted to duck around him, but he stopped you with a grip on your upper arm.  

The kitchen had gone quiet, and you could feel every single eye on you, including Hobi’s.  You met his eyes for a second, and saw the conflict in them.  He was frowning slightly, still holding his red solo cup.  Your chest tightened when you slowly began to realize that you were in this alone.  

You lifted your chin, and stared Benji in the eye.  “Get the fuck off me, Benji.”  You hissed through your teeth.  

“Oh, what’re you gonna do? Sit on me?” He laughed and there were chuckles from around the room.  Your face lit red with anger and embarrassment.  

“Jesus, Benji, where’d you get that?  Kindergarten?  You can fuck right off or I will sit on you.”  You fisted your hands, the anger pushing tears along your waterline.  Benji only smirked at your tears.  You seized the opportunity.  “Oh I see!” You laughed suddenly.  “You’d like that! Into that kind of thing Benji?  Good for you, being so open minded.  We fat girls can get pretty freaky, ya know.”  Benji ripped his hand back as though you had suddenly burst into flames.  The room shifted uncomfortably, slowly losing interest.  

“Why would I want to fuck you?” Benji laughed harshly.  “God, you’re so fugly, with all of that,” He waved his hand in the general direction of your body. “You’d make anyone vomit.”  The remaining boys, Benji’s croneys you assumed, laughed in a harsh and grating way that only a drunken frat boy could.  And then there was Hobi.  Who hadn’t moved one step, neither in your direction or Benji’s.  He made eye contact with you, and you pleaded with him mentally to come defend you, to be the friend you knew he was, the friend you had fallen in love with over and over again.  But instead, as Benji laughed, he cast his eyes away from you, scooped his arm around the closest, skinniest blonde he could find, and disappeared to God-knows-where with her.        

Your heart had shattered into a thousand and one pieces that night, and you had only just finished piecing them together.  But all that work, all that supposed healing, shattered as Hobi lifted himself himself up and looked you in the eye with his large, dark eyes.  

And there he was, in the flesh.  Your Hobi.  

He looked tired, and pale, as though he hadn’t been sleeping or eating well recently.  You could tell that he’d lost weight, but gained muscle in the months that you’d been apart, and you wanted to pull him into you and protect him, even though he probably didn’t need it.  His mouth was parted, in both exhaustion from climbing into your room and obvious distress at trying to talk to you.  

Instead of acting on your impulse to forgive him immediately, you tried to steel yourself against him.  “You wanted to talk,” you snapped.  “So talk.  I have an exam in the morning.”  

Hobi ran his hands through his hair again, clearly frustrated.  You hated seeing him this way, and you physically had to restrain yourself from cupping his face and saying everything was okay, everything was normal.  You sat on your bed, your hands beneath your legs.  

“I fucked up-”

“Clearly,” you cut him off.  

He nodded vigorously.  “I fucked up.  I should have said something, I should have done something.  As soon as I left the room it fucking ate at me.  I tried to distract myself with that girl,” You snorted in disbelief.  He nodded again. “I know, I know.  But as soon as we were...we were doing things I couldn’t get you out of my fucking head.  It was eating me alive.  So I shoved her off, and went to find you.  I searched that whole damn house...”  He was pacing in front of you, agitated.  

“Why the fuck would I have stayed, Hobi?” You asked, tears pricking your eyes again.  “You abandoned me.  You were supposed to be my best friend,” the man I loved you thought but you didn’t say it.  “And you fucking left me to the dogs.  You let Benji basically eat me alive at a party I didn’t even want to be at.”

Hobi had stopped pacing, and suddenly he was kneeling before you, his fingers brushing away the tears you hadn’t noticed were falling.  “Y/N, please, sweets, no, don’t cry.  Please don’t cry over me.  I don’t deserve it, I’m such an asshole.  I’m so sorry.”  You lifted your hands to scrub the tears from your eyes, closing your eyes so you wouldn’t have to look at his stupidly beautiful face.  But as you lifted your hands he caught them with his own and brought them to his lips, kissing each finger gently, as though healing wounds.  Your heart thundered in your ears, and you watched as he brushed each one with his soft, heart shaped mouth.  

“After I realized you were gone,” He whispered, avoiding your eyes, “I got so angry.  I was angry at you, I was angry at myself, and I was angry at Benji.  I couldn’t take my anger out on you, and lord knows I was already cursing myself, so I went after Benji.  I kicked his fucking ass, Y/N.  Or at least I tried.  Oh my God, you would have laughed at me,” you laughed quietly now at the idea of tall and lanky Hoseok taking on thick and burly Benji.  His eyes lit up when you laughed, and he ducked his head shyly.  “I left with a black eye, a busted lip, and got kicked out of the frat by the next day.  Benji, on the other hand, had a broken nose, so who’s the real loser here?”  He laughed, but it was more of a sigh, a gust of air forced from his lungs.  He still clung to your hands, as though they were the only things keeping him grounded.  “I know it means nothing now, so far away from that moment I should have punched his stupid asshole face, but I’m trying Y/N.  I’m trying, because I cannot lose you.”

Your heart was shattering all over again, ground into dust as he rose his head to look at you.  His eyes searched your face desperately, for any sign that you forgave him.  You shook your head, but did not remove your hands from his.  You missed him too much to do that, just yet.  “Hobi, you let me down.  You abandoned me.”  He opened his mouth to speak again, but you shook your head again.  There was no point in hiding anymore.  His actions, as much as they had broken you, had also taught you to be strong.  To stand on your own.  “Hobi, I was there for you.  I wasn’t there for anyone else, not Namjoon, not Benji, but you, Hoseok.  You.  And you want to know why?  Not because you’re my best friend,” Hobi’s eyes lit momentarily at the use of the present tense.  “But because you’re my world.  I am so in love with you Hobi.  I have been, every single second of every day.  I’ve loved you.  I was there, dressed like that, filled with confidence, because I was, I am, in love with you.”  

Hobi was crying for real now, tears running from his eyes.  “God, I fucked up so badly,” He laughed through his tears, but it was angry.  “I saw you, standing there in the kitchen, and my heart fucking stopped.  Hell, you’ve been doing that to me for years, making my goddamn stomach turn with love and lust and every other fucking feeling.  But you walked in like the evil queen back to life and my brain went silent.  I short fused, and next thing I knew, Benji was bothering you, and I didn’t know what to do.  And I fucked up.”  He shook his head, frustrated at his words.

“I get that it’s too late, that I should have chosen you from the start, but please, let me have a second chance to show you what you mean to me.  I can’t stop thinking about you.  These six months have wrecked me, a whole summer without you.  A whole summer without  you in my car, the wind in your hair and your laugh in my ears.  A whole summer driving by your house looking to see if your bedroom light was on, wondering what you’d do if I pulled over and climbed into your open window.  Jesus Christ, there were times where I would literally call your cell phone and hang up after the first ring because I was terrified.”  He had pulled you closer, pressing, no, clutching your hands to his chest, and you could feel his heart hammering under his t-shirt.  His dark eyes were storms, lightning and clouds and rain all mixed together in deep pools, sucking you in all over again.  

“And I’m still terrified, I’m terrified of losing you for good, of never hearing you say my name, my full name, ever again.  I already pretty much hate myself, but I would hate myself even more if I never told you how much of an idiot I am.  I would hate myself forever if I never told how I really felt.  I can live with hating myself, but I can’t live with never telling you how I feel.”  You didn’t realize how close your face was to his until this moment, when he pressed his forehead to your own.  

He was warm, he was comfort, he was sunshine and home all rolled into one being.  One thousand reasons why you should hate him, why you should tell him to eat it and get out, why you should tell him to get out of your life, ran through your head.  But instead, you close the distance between the two of you.  Your hands are pressed to his chest, pulling at his t-shirt, you lips pressing against his, hungry and angry and needy.  

He kisses you back, rising on his knees to better meet your mouth, his tongue dipping in and out of your lips, tentative and nervous.  It's as though he’s afraid you’ll change your mind, and through him out the window with your bare hands.  But when you don’t pull away, he becomes confident, his hands cupping your face, his chest pressing against your hands, molding into your shape.  Your high-school self, who fantasized about kissing Hobi and more late at night, was screaming with joy.  Hell, present you was screaming with joy.  

You lean back, bracing yourself on the bed with one hand, and all you can think about is how Hobi tastes like salt and sadness, but also like everything you’ve needed and more.  Your heart, which had been struggling for months to heal, to come back together, felt so full it was overflowing, and you didn’t even question the voice in your head and your heart that was sobbing and laughing and cheering all at the same time.  

Hobi leaned you back farther, guiding you with one hand in your hair, the other brushing down to your lower back.  He pulled back suddenly, confused, when your papers crackled underneath you.  You laughed at his questioning eyes, snorting out something about your Korean exam, when he swooped one long arm around you, successfully shuffling most of the sheets to the floor.  

You laughed some more at his smug expression, but the laughter transformed into gasps as his lips began to travel down your neck, fingers tugging the collar of your sweatshirt down to expose the soft flesh above your collarbone.  You pushed him off and pulled your sweatshirt all the way off, taking your pj t shirt with it.  Hobi had seen you with less clothes on before, a side effect of growing up together, but never in this context.  Never so personally.  Never when he knew that you were fully giving yourself to him, heart and soul.  He studied your form slowly, and touched you so softly that you moaned with want.  You pressed yourself against his hands as they brushed your breasts, your nipples, your stomach, and groaned in pleasure when his teeth attached to the skin of your shoulder, leaving a purple bruise you wouldn’t find til morning.  

You removed his shirt and jeans as his fingers dipped below your sweatpants and underwear.  You were briefly concerned with the fact that you were wearing some of the worst panties you possibly owned, but the thought was quickly crushed by the feeling of Hobi’s cock pressed against your thigh as he laid you down, bracing himself on his elbows above you.  

You both were fully undressed, and you studied his tan skin quietly, counting each freckle and mole on his shoulders with your lips.  Hobi shuddered out a breath as you slipped your hand between the two of you, grasping his length.  You pumped him a few times, feeling him harden even more, precum slipping gently into your palm.  You smiled as he pressed his face into your neck, whispering your name mixed with expletives.  

Suddenly he grasped your hand, pulling you away for a moment.  He rolled off of you, and then slowly kissed you, his tongue running across your bottom lip, gentle and smooth.  He cupped your heat for a moment, and smiled devilishly as you gasped when he slid two long fingers inside easily.  

“Oh, wow.  You’re already so ready for me, Love.”  He took one of your nipples in his mouth, tugging gently, all the while working down between your legs.  You shuddered, getting closer and closer to losing yourself in him.

As you were about to come undone in his hand, you caught his wrist.  You laid him back gently, taking control.  You were still mad at him, no matter how much you loved him, and you would show him.  His eyes widened in amazement as you settled on top of him.  As you slowly ground against his length, he reached to hold your hips, to guide you.  But you gripped his wrists, slowly and painfully lifting them above his head.  You held these in one hand, kissing him harshly, whilst using your other hand to guide him inside of you.  He bucked his hips upwards, excited by the sudden stimulation, but you pulled back.  

“Ah-ah, not just yet, Hoseok.  You were very mean to me,” You slowly rose up, and then lowered yourself back down, watching his eyes fill with lust and a desperate need.  “You can’t just kiss me and expect everything to be better, baby.  Oh no, I’m gonna come first, maybe twice, and then maybe I’ll let you do what you want.”  You pressed one finger gently to your clit as you send this, and shuddered gently at how sensitive you were.  Hobi’s eyes widened slightly, and he growled desperately, pressing his hips upwards.

This caused the friction you craved, and you gasped, leaning back, bringing his hands to your breasts.  Hobi sat up, thrusting into you again and again, biting and sucking against your neck.  

You quickly came with the combination of his hands, lips, tongue, and teeth, and you ground your hips downward, wanting him even deeper than he already was.  Within a few more thrusts, Hobi groaned out as his release came.  

Your joints felt like liquid as you leaned into his arms, and he fell backwards onto your pillows.  You sat up to go clean yourself up, but Hobi seemed to panic, reaching out and wrapping his arms about your waist, burying his face in your back.  You chuckled softly, running your fingers through the black hair of the boy you were in love with.  “Hobi, I’m not leaving, but really need a towel at the very least.”  He reluctantly released you, and watched in quiet amazement as you walked naked across the room to the door of your attached bathroom.  When you came back, he was stretched across the bed, his hands behind his head, a happy little grin stretched across his face.  

“What are you so happy about?” You asked, climbing into bed beside him, draping you leg across his body and nuzzling your face into his chest.

“I have my best friend back,” he grinned into your hair as he lowered his arms around you, circling you, protecting you.  “And I finally got to kiss you.”  

You laughed and playfully smacked him.  “You got to do more than kiss me, Hobi, you realize that right?”  

He hummed happily, squeezing you tightly.  “Yup, and I’m gonna do it again.”  

As Hobi rolled you over and kissed you deeply, you couldn’t help but think how the two of you still needed to talk about a lot of things.  But for now, not willing to pop the golden bubble the two of you had created, you pushed those thoughts away.  Instead, you kissed Hobi back, and for once in your life, thought of nothing but the present and the boy beneath your fingertips.