#timestamp.fic

[hoshologies]

2:47 am, vernon c.

genres &&. warnings — timestamp, fluff, established relationship &&. lapslock intended, vernon being a sweetheart.

word count — 1.1k

you’re woken up rather gently, as though the person brushing soft hands against you is intentionally trying to keep you in dreamland. of course, you don’t even need to open your eyes to know who it is because you have him mapped down to the callouses of his fingertips and the faded scent of the cologne he put on this morning before he left (not to mention he’s the only person who has the spare key to your apartment).

“vernon…?” you ask quietly, drawing in a breath to yawn. you stretch deeply and notice the weight and feel of the fabric of the duvet over your legs where it hadn’t been when you’d fallen asleep a while ago.

“hey, baby.” vernon’s voice is quiet and his breath is warm on your face, a physical manifestation of his words.

when you open your eyes, he’s knelt beside the bed, using one arm as a cushion for his chin while the other strokes gentle lines over your cheek, his palm warm and threatening to lull you back to sleep.

“what time is it?”

“almost three am. what time did you go to sleep?”

you shrug as best you can with one of your shoulders pressed into the mattress. “only about an hour or so ago i think. i was waiting for you to come home, but i guess i fell asleep.”

vernon’s sigh is quiet with something akin to remorse. his fingers press a little tighter into your cheek like he’s trying to physically convey whatever it is he’s feeling. “i meant to come home a lot earlier, but the guys wanted to stay out later than planned and someone had to help get them home. if hoshi hadn’t been requiring constant supervision, i would have let you know.”

you shake your head, doing your best to lean your cheek into his palm. vernon was always good about messaging you when plans changed or something happened, so while you’d been a little anxious when he didn’t text you that he was heading home, you figured it had been for a good reason; and, as expected, a drunk hoshi was always a good reason.

“it’s okay,” you whisper, letting your eyes fall shut, reveling in the rough warmth of vernon’s hand against you, thumb still painting those hypnotically comforting lines into you. “i guessed something came up, so i wasn’t too worried.”

you hear him let out an exhale that doubles as a laugh, that breathy chuckle of his. “were you planning on falling asleep? when i walked in, your phone was playing a random youtube video and you weren’t even under the covers.”

he laughs again when you shake your head and mumble “s’n accident. i really wanted to wait for you.” he mutters his own answer under his breath, something that sounds strangely like “so cute.” 

silence settles over the two of you, broken only by the sound of your breath rustling the duvet cover and the soft brush of skin against skin. you’re not quite sure how much time passes, too focused on fighting off sleep to enjoy more time with your boyfriend because truthfully, you can never get enough time with him. alas, eventually his hand departs, leaving a chill in its wake, and when you whine a little, he leans forward to press his forehead to yours.

“i’ll be right back, ‘kay? i just need to get ready for bed. i’ll make it quick, promise.”

and his word is always his bond; if he promises something, he always follows through. again, you’re not sure how long vernon is away because you’re caught floating somewhere between total consciousness and temporary oblivion. but he does return at some point because the lights turn off and then, with all the gentleness possible in the world, he slides into bed next to you. he scoots in close, draping one arm around your waist and tucking his nose into the crook of your neck.

“you waiting for me to get back so you can finally go back to bed?” he asks, his voice already heavy and rough with sleep. his breath sinks through the thick cotton of his sweater you “borrowed” (see: stole) when you had gotten ready for bed earlier in the night and that alone lulls you closer to slumber’s welcoming embrace.

you hum quietly in assent, looping your arm over his and intertwining your fingers against your sternum. he presses in impossibly closer, not a single part of the back of you that goes untouched. it’s as if he can’t get close enough to you and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s simply feeling more affectionate than usual or there’s still a little bit of alcohol lingering in his system. but with the weight and warmth of him against you, you can’t even complain.

“well, ‘m here now, so go back to sleep, baby.”

his fingers flex around yours, squeezing tight into your palm before relaxing a little. a way to say “i love you” without vocalizing it. he’s out like a light almost immediately, his breathing slow and steady at the nape of your neck, but while you’re exhausted too, you stay awake long enough to notice that between the time vernon came home and the moment you woke up, he’d plugged your cellphone in to charge it, covered you with the duvet, taken off the hairband you’d had on your wrist, rearranged your pillows just the way you like. 

it’s always the little things with him, things that only he remembers and responds to. out of every person you’ve been in a relationship with, it’s vernon who has shown you what love, real love, looks and feels like. just the thought of everything he did for you tonight in fifteen minutes of being home is enough to have your heart swelling with unadulterated adoration.

you tighten your fingers around his for just a moment, a reciprocal “i love you.” because how could you not love him when you were his first priority upon arriving home or when he holds you the way he’s holding you now, gentle and warm with his chest rising in shallow breaths against you.

you’ve discussed it before, the idea of being “it” for each other, but right now, as you’re finally allowing sleep to take over, you know with absolute certainty that he’s it. there is no other person on earth who could love you the way vernon does; this is what you want for the rest of your life, this is who you want to fall asleep and wake up with. it could never be anybody else.

© hoshologies 2023. do not translate, copy, or repost my work on any site.

[hoshologies]

⌗ now playing... hug, seventeen.

8:37 pm, lee j. warnings afab!reader, reader on period.

the ringtone you’d picked out specifically for your boyfriend when you started dating months ago sounds quietly from your phone, resting on the pile of books on your nightstand. unwilling (or unable) to turn over, you reach behind you, your hand blindly seeking out the device. eventually, your fingers curl around it and you pick it up. once in front of your face, you slide your thumb across the answer button, put the call on speaker, and greet jeno with a soft “hello?”

“hey, baby.” even over the line, your boyfriend’s voice washes you over with warmth, more than the blanket you’re under ever could. “just saw your texts. i’m leaving practice now. is there anything specific you want me to get?”

you shrug to yourself, pulling your knees closer to your chest. “just something with chocolate. and more pads if you can? i thought i had enough, but i’m almost out.”

mark says something in the background and jeno responds before he answers you again. “don’t worry about it, okay? i’ll take care of it. are you feeling alright?”

“my cramps are pretty bad, but it could be worse, i guess.”

jeno lets a soft sigh loose, you hear him open a door and then the rush of seoul traffic. “just hang in there. you can do that right?” you answer with a borderline tearful mhmm. “i know you can. i’ll try to be home as soon as i can. i’ll see you soon, baby. get some rest.”

you part with a quiet exchange of i love yous and then the line goes dead. your phonescreen flickers off and eventually, you’re out like a light too. you wake up maybe forty-five minutes later, jeno sweeping hair away from your forehead and leaning down to press a kiss to your skin.

“got you some of your favorite snacks. ice cream’s in the freezer, there’s some drinks in the fridge. you need anything else right now? what do you want from me?”

still hazy from sleep, you stretch your legs and reach for him, trying to coax him under the covers with you. “can we just cuddle for a while?”

your eyes are closed, but you can imagine the smile on his face when he lets out a breathy laugh. you scoot over to make room for him and he takes the space, getting comfortable beside you. his arm falls heavy and comfortable over your waist, crowing your body against his, and you feel better already. he asks if you’ve had dinner, tells you he’ll order your favorite takeout from down the street. we can rest first, he offers, whatever you need.

and you don’t need anything but this.

© hoshologies 2023. do not translate, copy, or repost my work on any site.

[hoshologies]

6:17 am, sim j.

genres &&. warnings — timestamp, fluff, established relationship &&. lapslock intended, jake being perfect boyfriend material as always.

word count — 1.5k

note — everyone manifest good seats for enhypen tour omg.....

milky early morning light is starting to pour in through the windows of your living room, where you definitely didn’t mean to fall asleep last night. you blink against the light, trying to ward it off because you’re still so tired and want to sleep more, but it’s next to impossible because the sun is starting to shine directly into your eyes.

with no clear way to go back to sleep, you start to stretch. at least, stretch as best you can when you’re laying directly on top of your boyfriend and his body brackets yours on all sides. he’s got one leg draped over yours, a hand resting on the small of your back, the other arm wrapped tight around your shoulders. his heartbeat is steady under your cheek, a nice reminder that he’s here with you right now, despite busy schedules and comeback season. most days, you find yourself wishing that this could be a constant thing, waking up in jake’s embrace, but that yearning is tenfold today for some reason.

maybe it’s because all of this feels so domestic. he’d come over last night to help you make dinner, giggling as he purposely bumped hips with you in the small kitchen. he’d done the same thing when you were washing dishes, your sides pressed tight together as he washed and you dried, slotting dishes into their correct places. and then you’d settled down on the small couch for a movie, except you’d laid down halfway through and promptly fallen asleep. clearly neither of you had woken up in the night to convince the other to go sleep in your actual bed. but 

isn’t that kind of nice? getting to share all parts of your home with jake, feeling comfortable enough to pass out on the loveseat? there’s some level of domesticity that comes with all of this, a very unfamiliar territory to you but one you’re growing comfortable in nonetheless. you’ve never felt more at home than you do right now with him; you really could just lay here forever.

he draws a sudden deep breath, arms tightening around you as he stirs. like instinct, a habit he’s had all his life, his breath is hot against your hairline as he seeks you out, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “g’morning.”

his voice is thick with sleep, accent heavy, and it makes you smile to yourself. he’s so adorable like this. you wish you got to see this side of him more often, make it yours and yours alone. you’re sure he shares the same sentiment about you, especially when you can hear the smile as he lets out a short breathy laugh when you reply with your own “morning.”

he rubs his hands against your shoulder and back, the heels of his palms soothing soft lines into your skin, his cheek against the top of your head. “guess we’ll have to rewatch the movie, huh?”

you shrug, snuggling impossibly closer. “i guess so. just gives you an excuse to come over again.”

he laughs for real this time, a short, quiet little giggle that has his chest rumbling underneath you. it makes you smile into his sweater, something bright and soft, ethereal.

“i’ll always find an excuse to come over,” he says in between the tiny pinpricks of light that come in the form of laughter. “you know that.”

you can’t help but join him in his giggling. he’s right; he’s used every excuse in the book to sneak over to your apartment at least twice a week for the last seven months. he forgot his phone charger, you’re sick and need him to run an errand for you, you have a delivery coming but you’re not home and need someone to sign for it, he left his favorite sweater on accident (this one is true, except he did it on purpose, but the other guys don’t need to know how much he loves the way you look in his clothes). he’s never had to do much to get himself out of the dorms and into your apartment during his free time. you’re just happy to offer him yet another reason to come over.

eventually, you both fall silent again, just basking in one another and the warm light as it creeps farther and brighter into your apartment, casting everything it touches in gold. jake has moved one arm to rest behind his head, the other drawing his fingers up and down your back in loose, uneven lines.

“what time is it?” you ask quietly, unwilling to move so you can see the clock on your wall or reach for your phone. jake is just too comfortable, too warm and you’re not ready to let him go just yet.

thankfully, jake is in the perfect position to reach for his phone on the coffee table and he picks it up with ease. “almost six-thirty.”

you let out a sigh and finally release one of your arms to drag the blanket that lays on the back of the couch over you. there’s the soft clatter of jake’s phone being set back on the coffee table and then he’s adjusted the blanket over the both of you, a smile evident in the small breath he lets out through his nose.

“too early,” you say once you’re settled again, voice muffled against his sweater clad chest.

“then go back to sleep, cutie,” he replies softly, nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head. his arms are back around you, nice and tight, his go to cuddle position that you’ve come to love more than anything.

you shake your head as best you can. “want to, but ‘s too bright.”

jake hums in response, a sound that has his chest rumbling under your cheek just a bit. his fingers wind their way back and forth across your shoulders as he thinks. birds are starting to chirp outside your window now, the world waking up with the sun when all you want is a little bit more time in bed with your boyfriend.

he shatters that desire almost immediately as it materializes, though he does so with a suggestion that is just as pleasant. “well, i’m not getting back to sleep any time soon either, especially since i have practice this afternoon… y’wanna go get breakfast at that coffee shop down the street?”

you pull your head up from his chest to look at him. you almost wish you hadn’t because he looks so pretty like this, hair messy from sleep and brown eyes caught by sunbeams that turn them molten bronze, and you nearly fall in love all over again. he smiles up at you, all soft and warm, a small grin that is reserved just for you.

“you payin’?” you ask, even though you know you don’t have to. jake always refuses to let you pay for anything, even things he won’t get any use out of like the pair of shoes you were planning to buy a couple weeks ago when you went out shopping together; he’d slipped his card into the machine while you had your head turned to pull out your own like the menace he was.

his eyes practically glitter in the morning sunlight as he nods, dropping his arms to your waist. “course i am. it was my idea.”

you smile and press a kiss to his jawline, the one place you can reach comfortably in this position. he leans into the touch, cheek pressed hot against your temple, always the sucker for physical affection.

“you’d pay even if it wasn’t your idea,” you counter, pulling away to look at him again.

he shrugs his shoulders and starts to sit up, so you adjust yourself too, kneeling on the couch between his legs. you reach to run your fingers through soft, golden locks of hair and he smiles, his own fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. 

“are you trying to say you don’t want me to pay for things anymore?” he questions. he tries to add an edge of a threat in there, but it doesn’t quite work when he’s leaning into your touch and looking more and more like the puppy his friends and fans (and you) equate him to.

“just stating facts,” you answer, a little bit of laughter in your voice.

he giggles with you, wrapping his arms fully around your waist again and pulling you into his body. somehow, in the struggle, he manages to stand up and starts carrying you towards your bedroom amid shrieks and your desperate attempts to latch your legs around his hips.

“gotta get a move on, baby, or else your favorite table’s gonna get taken before we can even get out the door.”

he knows you down to your favorite table at your favorite coffee shop. and you know that when you eventually arrive, he’s going to be able to rattle off your order like it’s song lyrics he has memorized. you’ll walk through broken glass before you ever let him go, especially when he offers his elbow to you ten minutes later when you step outside onto the sidewalk. this is the most in love you’ve ever felt and you hope he’s the only person you’ll experience this with.

[hoshologies]

8:41 pm, kim m.

genres &&. warnings — timestamp, fluff, established relationship &&. lapslock intended, mingyu being sweet.

word count — 1.3k

you stand in the center of your bedroom, or what used to be your bedroom. the only remnants of it a bedframe, mattress, and dresser you no longer need. as excited as you are to be starting a new chapter of your life, there’s a bittersweet emptiness that chills you through to your heart. this apartment has never objectively been the best, but there are so many good memories carved into the very floorboards: first dean’s list, your twenty-first birthday, first kiss with your first real boyfriend. it’s hard to accept, the idea of leaving all of that behind, even when you’re moving to a place where you’ll make better memories.

lost in your own world, mingyu’s footsteps don’t register until he’s right behind you, wrapping strong arms around your waist and resting his chin atop your shoulder. the affection shocks, but doesn’t startle you; rather, you lean into his body, welcoming the warmth of him against you.

“just put the last box in the car,” he says, breath hot and comforting against the exposed skin of your neck. “are you ready to go?”

you nod absently, hardly acknowledging his words, but you make no move to leave. you’re too focused on the fact that over the course of the last two days, every trace of you in this apartment has disappeared. every framed picture, every half-read book, every little shoe scuff by the front door left after a long night of studying or partying with mingyu and his friends. it’s like you never even existed in this space, four years wiped clean or moved out.

“you okay?” your boyfriend’s voice is light as air, warm like hot chocolate. he snuggles in closer, arms wrapped impossibly tighter around you; if you focus enough, you’re sure you can feel the steady beat of his heart against your shoulderblade.

“yeah,” you respond in kind, soft and quiet so as to not break the silence, strangely peaceful. even the quietest sounds echo off the now-bare white walls of your bedroom. “just reminiscing, i guess.”

you can feel him nod against your shoulder, soft hair brushing against your temple. he probably feels that same cool sadness that permeates the entire apartment that you do. of course, he’s spent less time in this apartment than you have, two out of four years of residency, but so many milestones of your relationship have happened in this apartment. it’s sad to be relinquishing your claim on this apartment, to allow someone else to come here and overwrite everything with their own memories.

“i get that,” mingyu affirms, voice rumbling in his chest. “so much of our relationship happened here. like, remember before we were together, we got so drunk and i was craving one of those microwave macaroni cups?”

you laugh at last, a breathy little giggle that has your boyfriend pressing his cheek against yours, a smile evident on his face. “yeah, when you tried to open it but spilled noodles everywhere and then forgot to put water in and nearly caught my microwave on fire?”

his chuckle is deep, resonating against your back, through your shoulder, a comforting sensation. “that’s a little dramatic–”

you slap playfully at one of his forearms. “no, it isn’t, gyu! the cup was literally on fire! there were flames!”

if he wasn’t currently using you as a prop to lean his weight, he’d be doubled over at the waist right now. for two and a half year, he has claimed that the macaroni incident really wasn’t as serious as you’ve always made it out to be, but it is true; he’d been so blasted out of his mind that when he’d tried to make a snack at almost two in the morning, he’d nearly ruined your microwave because there wasn’t any water in the cup and the noodles caught fire. even in the haze of alcohol and mild anger towards him for it, you’d known how much you liked having him around, always making you laugh and warm from inside out like he was kindling a fire that burned in your bone marrow.

“or how about that time i was visiting over here and it snowed so much that i couldn’t leave and we got stranded inside for, like, a week?”

you nod, smiling to yourself at the memory. it was just after new year’s and he’d come over for a movie night and sleepover before the spring semester started since you’d have less time to see him. as luck would have it, it started snowing a quarter of the way through the first movie; the next morning, snow was still coming down and weather reports said feet upon feet of snow. you hadn’t been together long at that point, just a few months, so it was a long six days for the two of you. but you had come out of it stronger and the better for it; there was tangible proof that you could cohabit a space and not kill each other or want to break up.

your shared laughter peters out and quiet overtakes the space once more, the both of you snuggling into one another, each considering your own favorite memories that were made within these walls. so much has happened here. the two of you have changed so much. the idea of moving on, of changing is something daunting, insurmountable even, like you’re leaving an integral piece of you behind. but the most integral part of your life stands with you now, his arms wrapped tight around you, his nose buried into the junction of your shoulder and neck, something stable in the midst of a big tidal wave that threatens to upset your whole life.

eventually, mingyu leans back and sets his hands on your shoulders, turning you in a slow half-circle to face him head on. his face is soft and welcoming, comfort to the highest degree that belongs solely to you. his eyes are warm, dark serenity.

“i know you’re sad about moving out and honestly…? i kind of am, too,” he admits, a bashful expression passing over his features for a fleeting moment. he has reason to, memories and a toothbrush on the bathroom sink counter and a shelf in the pantry just for his favorite snacks. this has been his home just as much as yours for the past few years. “but it’ll be okay. we’re in this together.”

his hands find yours and he holds them up between your bodies, palm to palm, fingers locked together.

“we’ll make new memories in our place. you hear that? our place. we get to officially share a home. like, we can say that we actually live together. isn’t that so cool?” his eyes light up and he’s right, it is cool, being able to say that you live with your boyfriend. “and just so you know, there’s no one else i’d rather be doing this with. it’s scary, sure, but anything is possible with you.”

and there’s hope and possibility shining on his face. there’s trepidation, yes, but you can feel the trust and the optimism he has like it’s transferring through the press of your palms. it’s intoxicating and while the fear of moving on is still there, it begins to melt away under his touch. so you nod and shake your joined hands a little bit, which makes him grin bright and beautiful.

“you’re right.”

“i know.”

you roll your eyes at him, but smile anyways. your hands fall apart from each other and mingyu turns on his heels, slipping an arm over your shoulder and tugging you close to his side. there’s a confidence in his stride as he leads you towards the front door of the apartment, past the echoey emptiness.

“let’s get out of here. let’s go home.”

how can you say no?

© hoshologies 2023. do not translate, copy, or repost my work on any site.

[hoshologies]

1:37 AM, NA JAEMIN

⌗ pairing. na jaemin/reader

⌗ syn. you go to a party at jaemin's house. you sneak away together. things change between you.

⌗ gen & rating. smut, friends to lovers. 18+

⌗ warnings. afab!reader, dom!jaemin, use of pet names (pretty girl, cutie, baby), light choking, teasing.

⌗ word count. 0.6k.

⌗ notes. minors do not interact. feel free to support me on kofi if you enjoyed it!

the party is raging two floors down, mid 2010s pop radio staples bumping through the house. even up on the second floor, you can hear kesha’s voice reverbing up the stairs and there’s a small part of you that wants to be down there, sweating in the throng of bodies and throwing back too much alcohol. that’s what you’d come here for after all.

but your best friend, jaemin, had tugged you out and away from it after you’d grinded against him during one of the songs mark had thrown in the queue. you’d questioned it, but the kiss he’d pulled you into in the stairwell, hot and messy, had quelled any concerns.

and now he’s sitting back against his headboard, your body slotted against him, your back to his chest. the door is locked and his moody leds are on, casting you and your discarded clothes in a dark purple glow. you’re completely bare to the room, jaemin left only in his boxers; you can feel his cock, hard and heavy, pressing into the swell of your ass.

“jaem,” you breath out as he nips at the junction of your shoulder and neck. you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t had dreams about ending up with him like this; he’s your best friend, sure, but that has never stopped you from fantasizing about him, the way his body would react to yours, the way he’d feel against you. this is better than any fantasy.

he hums against the underside of your jaw, nosing his way up your skin before he bites lightly at your earlobe. “what d’ya want, pretty girl? you wanna stop?” he punctuates the last question with one of his hands sliding down your body, settling it on the skin of your inner thigh.

you shake your head immediately, letting one of your hands fall to his own leg and curling your fingernails into the skin just above his knee. “hm-mm, n-no.”

you can feel his chest rumble under you as he chuckles, his smile sharp against the side of your neck as his free hand settles soft around your throat. white heat flashes through you, burning you from the inside out. his breath falls against your ear again, his chin brushing your shoulder.

“no?” he questions, his voice deep and dripping with unadulterated lust; you always hoped that he had a thing for you, but this is more than you ever anticipated, not that you’re complaining. “then you gotta tell me. can’t be useful if i don’t know what you want, huh?”

while he speaks, his fingers on your thigh shifts, ghosts over your pussy, dripping wet and no doubt ruining jaemin’s bedspread. it’s just a featherlight touch, but it has you clenching around nothing, your hips shifting, and you whine, pressing your head back against his shoulders.

“use your words, cutie, or i can’t help.”

he’s barely touched you, but you can already feel tears pricking at the back of your eyes. when you look up at him, he’s got a sinister little grin on his face, his eyes sparkling with mischief, and you whine again.

“want you to –” you break off when his fingers brush over you again, this time more centered on your clit, and you gasp. “fuck, jaem, please. want you to touch so bad.”

he lets out that dark, little laugh again and lets his fingers at your throat tighten just a bit. your mind goes a little hazy at the pressure, not really enough to do anything but just enough to work you up; na jaemin is a master at teasing and it’s already proving disastrous for you.

“yeah? you want me to touch here?” his fingertips dig into your inner thigh, he drags them across your stomach, everywhere you don’t want them; he laughs again when you whine and shake your head against his shoulder. “no? i’m just teasing, baby. i know what you need. it’s okay, nana will take care of you, hmm?”

© hoshologies 2023. do not translate, copy, or repost my work on any site.

[hoshologies]

11:32 pm, bang c.

genres &&. warnings — angst, hurt/no comfort &&. crying, heartbreak, mutual pining but forbidden love, are you asking too much of chan?

word count — 1.3k

note — inspired specifically by that one line in seasons by wave to earth "i can't be your life because i'm afraid i'll ruin your life."

it feels like your bones rattle with every step you take, rushing down this stairwell faster than you ever have before. the last time you descended this particular staircase, it had been with a smile on your face and a fluttering in your heart, hope for a future that you thought was about to be within reach. you’d never been more wrong in your life.

“c’mon, can you just stop and come back upstairs? please.” chan’s voice echoes above you, his footsteps drawing closer and pushing you faster down the stairs.

your attitude towards that man has taken a complete one-eighty over the last ten minutes, drastically different than it had been when you’d shown up for what you’d begun calling your weekly date night: takeout and movies in his bed. stupid for so many things, so many reasons. you have to get out of here; there’s no fire in the building, but your chest burns like you’re breathing in hot smoke.

it’s a relief when your feet finally hit the bottom floor and you step out into the cool night air of seoul. the breath you heave trembles with tears, but it’s still so welcome, chilling the ache in your lungs. glad to be out of that damned suffocating building, you take two steps in the direction of the subway when the boy you can’t get away from fast enough bursts out onto the sidewalk behind you.

“wait!” chan is breathless, you can hear it in his voice; you don’t need to turn around to know that his chest is heaving, one of his hands resting over his belly button because it’s a scene you’ve been witnessed to many a time after he’s chased you around his apartment, laughing rather than crying. “can we please talk about this?”

any sadness you felt three seconds ago is scorched away, a fiery anger taking its place. talk? he wants to talk about this? he was doing plenty of that five minutes ago, shooting you down like it was nothing. no, now it’s your turn to talk.

you whip around on your heels, any semblance of calm dissipating. “talk? okay, sure. i’ll talk. fuck you, chris.” as far as you’re concerned, he’s lost all privileges to the sweet names you’ve been calling him for months. “you don’t wanna tell anybody about us? that’s fine. i get it. you don’t wanna go on dates in public? okay. i understand how important your image is to your job. i don’t complain, i’ve never complained. i come here at late hours to see you, even when i’m practically dead on my feet or have to be up early the next morning because seeing you is always the best part of my day.”

“i know–”

you shake your head, letting out a sarcastic huff of amusement. “i’m not done. so we have these nights, right? and we do all of these things together and you treat me so well. things are great and i feel comfortable and… fuck, how is someone not supposed to fall in love with you, huh? after all of the stuff we’ve done, how was i supposed to not catch feelings?”

you’re not done with your diatribe, but you need a second to catch your breath a second time. chan stands there, arms limp at his sides as he stares at you. his eyes are wide and sad and there is sadness and regret written all over his face, but no amount of puppy dog eyes is going to fix this situation the way they’ve fixed far more minor situations.

“i was nervous the whole fucking day, chris. i wanted tonight to be the night that i told you how i felt and after all the time we’ve spent together, the number of mornings i’ve woken up in your bed, i really thought you’d reciprocate–”

“i do!” he exclaims, completely exasperated; the frustration in his voice immediately sours the last few shreds of fond feelings. “i do feel the same. i told you that inside!”

you throw your hands into the air in irritation before you bring them back down to cover your face and turn on your heels away from the boy in front of you. this whole situation is fucking ridiculous and you find yourself wishing that you’d never gotten involved with him in the first place, something bitter and so far from the truth; meeting chan was the best thing that’s ever happened and you’ve never regretted a single thing you’ve done with him. but this is all too much.

“yeah, but you immediately followed it up with ‘but i can’t be with you,’” you reply, tears pooling at your waterline against your wishes. the last thing you want to do is cry in front of him… again.

you hear him take a step forward, his sneakers scuffing against the concrete. “because i can’t be with you the way you want me to be. i can’t give you what you need.”

one tear falls, a second follows, and then they just won’t stop. that dam has finally broken. you turn to face him again; you’ve cried in front of him once tonight, so it doesn’t really matter anymore. he’s seen you at your absolute worst anyways.

“who the fuck are you to decide that?” you question, voice trembling. your eyes are no doubt pleading. you’ve never begged him for anything ever, but you’re coming dangerously close to that territory now. “i’ve been content so far, haven’t i?”

“but that can always change,” he reasons, closing the gap between you entirely. you want him close, but at the same time, you want to push him away. he’s the last person you want to see right now yet also the only person you want to tell about all of this because he’s been everything to you; nobody understands you the way he does, knows you as intimately as him.

“oh my god. it’s been months, chan. if i wasn’t in this for the long run, i would have left already. i would have told you. the fact that i’m still standing here trying to reason it out with you should be proof enough that i don’t fucking care about what you think you can and can’t do for me because we’ve worked so many other things out before. why isn’t that enough?”

he goes silent and your personal corner of seoul goes silent with him. there’s nobody else out, but it feels like the entire world is watching this fold out, some ridiculous forbidden love that never even stood a chance because why would it have? you’re not part of his world, you never have been. you were stupid for thinking that somehow, he’d let you come along for the ride.

when he doesn’t answer, you laugh mirthlessly, more a scoff than anything. you take a step backwards and he goes to follow, but you shake your head.

“there. we did it. we talked. and you still don’t want to try and figure this out, even though you want this just as much as i do. so i think we’re done here.”

you turn on your heels again, ready to take the thirty minute walk to your apartment because you can’t bear to be around anyone else right now. chan calls for you to wait again, but you shake your head, pushing back tears.

“i’m done waiting, chris. i’ve been doing it for weeks, so now it’s your turn. figure out just how much you’ll fight for this if you want me as much as you say you do.”

leaving chan has always been a hard thing to do, but never has hard as this. you want to turn around and hug him tight, but you force yourself forward down the sidewalk. he has always been a fighter, so you want to believe he’ll fight for you, to have you. he’s never let you down before.

© hoshologies 2023. do not translate, copy, or repost my work.

[hoshologies]

10:14 pm, choi s.

genres &&. warnings — timestamp, fluff, established relationship &&. lapslock intended, crying, soobin being adorable.

word count — 1.8k

note — happy one week anniversary to me and txt san antonio d1. miss existing in the same room as txt so much. anyways i started writing this on saturday night after la d1 because i was just. so completely overwhelmed with emotions. i'm so proud of txt. i always will be.

the second your boyfriend and his friends have taken their bows, said their seemingly never-ending goodbyes to fans, and disappeared behind the divider that allows them to slip backstage unseen, you’re winding your way out of the crowd. fans are packing their things away, a cacophony of lightsticks powering down ringing out around you, and you smile at unsuspecting fans as you move past, making for the stairs as fast as possible without tripping.

you break out into the halls of the stadium and while you’ve made it out of the crowd in the stands, you’re met with the exiting mob. it’s like swimming against the current, just on land rather than water. and you’re trying desperately not to push anyone, sticking close to the outskirts so you’re not fighting against too many people, taking your time to pick your way through the throngs of concertgoers.

but the closer you get to the backstage entrance yeonjun showed you earlier, the more restless you become. you haven’t seen soobin in a month because of this tour, and facetime calls are a sad excuse of a compromise; you’ve missed seeing the real thing in person since he kissed you goodbye in the entrance to your apartment with a promise of calling you the second he touched down in america. more important than anything right now is to see him face to face, to hold him to your chest and not let go for minutes on end.

what transpired tonight feels like a fever dream: stadium show, sold out, every single seat filled. this is what soobin and the boys have been working towards their entire career, and they made it. and you were here for it. when you’d initially booked your flight to la, you hadn’t considered the milestone tonight and tomorrow night would be for the boys; you simply missed soobin and you’d wanted to see him. but halfway through the show, it hit you just how monumental all of this really is.

and that realization now is manifesting into an incessant need to see choi soobin right this second. you barely stop long enough to flash the security guards at the backstage entrance your badge, proving that you’re allowed to be back there, before you’re taking off again in the direction of the dressing rooms. away from the fans, your tears, happy as they may be, flow freely and you nearly get lost a couple of times before the green room finally comes into view, door wide open and laughter pouring out like audible warmth, steady and comforting and like home.

you dash towards the room, coming to a short stop in the threshold, a hand braced against the cool metal frame. the five boys are goofing off, wiping sweat from their faces and munching on snacks to tide them over until they get back to their hotel, laughing and shoving at one another as they joke around in a bid to burn off adrenaline. they’re so wrapped up in their own little world that not a single one notices you. something or other about taking matters into your own hands, you suppose.

“hey! choi soobin!” you call, out of breath and wild with anticipation and excitement. a month apart is coming to a very surprise close and when the boy in question whips around, eyes wide and round like a deer in headlights, it’s all you can do not to melt under his discerning gaze, watching as he blinks once, twice, three times while he registers that you stand before him, eyes just as wide and breathing just as heavy. but when he finally catches up to reality, the expression that crosses his face is priceless.

“oh my god!” he says, blindly setting down whatever he was eating on the table behind him before he rushes across the room to you. his embrace comes in hot and fast, arms wrapped tight around your waist in the blink of an eye, so much momentum that the two of you stumble into the hallway, still locked together. “oh my god, what are you doing here?”

he pulls his face away from your neck to really get a look at you. his eyes shine with tears and stardust, catching stray beams of light in the hallway. he looks like he can’t believe any of this is real and honestly, you don’t blame him because it doesn’t feel real at all to you either.

“i came to see you, silly,” you respond, smiling up at your precious boyfriend. you sink your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, wrap your arms a little tighter around him, shuffle a little closer. you’ve wished to be back in his embrace every night for weeks and now you’re here and it feels like the first time all over again: special and warm and one of a kind. “i missed you and i couldn’t wait anymore, so… here i am.”

soobin smiles brightly and who are you to not return it?

“here you are,” he repeats, untangling his arms from around your waist, only to cup your cheeks in his hands to leave a million and one kisses on your face. he giggles the whole time, nuzzling his nose along your skin and whispering sweet nothings between every one. “‘m glad you’re here. thank you for coming.”

when his mission of pressing kisses to every square inch of your face is complete, he winds his arms around you again, leaning his cheek against the top of your head. he rocks you back and forth in that hallway for so long, just holding you against his chest, his heartbeat strong and steady under your cheek. you missed this, you missed him, but you’re glad that he went away to chase his dreams.

“‘m so proud of you, binnie. you did so well tonight,” you say quietly, voice trembling on the last few syllables. your fingers curl tight into the back of his shirt, not so much to wrinkle it but enough to anchor yourself against him as you feel the tears bubbling up.

soobin smiles, felt in the way his cheek rustles against your hair. one hand presses warm and comforting into the small of your back, the other soothing the space above. it’s a little ridiculous, the way you’re the one crying when he’s the one who just played a three hour concert to a sold out stadium of over twenty thousand people, but you are so overcome with pride that you can’t help it. he’s fought so hard to get here, he deserves this more than anyone you know (the other four boys excluded).

soobin shushes you softly when he feels the first few tears seep through his shirt. “shh, darling. you don’t need to cry. it’s okay.”

he coos at you over and over, breathy little chuckles wracking through him every once in a while, whispering about how cute and sweet and lovely you are. he reiterates time and time again that really, there’s no reason to cry, but through your attempts to catch your breath, you tell him that you can’t help it, that you’re so overwhelmed with pride and love that the only way your body knows how to release it is through tears, which makes him giggle even more and hold you even tighter.

“my baby, always so sweet to me.” his voice is soft and gentle, warm against the top of your head. “i made it this far because you always believed in me. i’m glad you were here to see it all.”

you sniffle and nod in assent, muttering a “me too,” voice still thick with tears. you’re gradually coming down off the adrenaline of the night, glad to have the sweetest boy in front of you holding your pieces together. when you finally do calm down enough, he leans back, arms still linked around you and a soft smile on his face.

“it’s about time for us to clear out of here for the night. wanna come back to the hotel and have dinner?” he asks, tilting his head to meet your gaze, eyes still shining with that silver stardust. you nod again and he smiles that pouty little smile of his. his hands take their rightful place on your cheeks, soft thumbs wiping away stray tears, and he kisses you slow and gentle. “so cute… c’mon. let’s get out of here.”

soobin moves away reluctantly, but links your hands together when he turns back towards the green room where yeonjun, beomgyu, taehyun, and kai have been watching it all unfold. you’d be lying if you said it doesn’t look like all four of them are a little misty eyed themselves, but you won’t embarrass them like that. 

: : bonus

soobin lays on his side facing you, his eyelashes fluttering against the soft skin of his cheeks as he sleeps. his breathing is slow and steady, comforting even when his exhales breeze across your face. he looks peaceful like this, a sight that you’ve missed since the moment he left you in korea.

as you study his features, you’re overcome with that pride again because it still hasn’t set in that tonight has been monumental. it feels like a dream you’re about to wake up from but don’t want to, but how could it be anything but real? he and the boys have worked so hard to get to this point. you saw the old tweets fans were bringing up. this has been the dream since day one and it’s come true. how special is that?

you can feel the tears welling again, pricking at the back of your eyes in the dark, and you sniffle as quietly as possible. but as though he has a radar for your emotions, soobin shifts, cracks an eye open and then the other when he realizes you’re about to cry again. he giggles breathily in the near-pitch black of the hotel room and scoots in closer, wrapping his arms tight around you.

“no more crying,” he whispers, nuzzling his nose against your hairline. the amusement in his voice is nothing short of sincere and playful; it’s not chastizing or annoyed, just simply warm because you care about him so much that you feel affected the same way he does. he presses you soft to his chest, a hand rubbing soothingly at your back. “no more tears tonight. go to sleep.”

you nod against him, snuggling in close and melting into a warmth that is distinctly his. you can’t ever be apart from him again; you miss this when he’s away, never able to get good sleep because you’re always hyperfixated on the cool, empty space next to you. but now, you’re slipping away like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“missed you, soob,” you say quietly. “don’t leave me again.”

he laughs silently, just a little tremble of his shoulders to prove it ever happened, and scoots impossibly closer. “next time, you’re coming with me, i promise. but at least you’re here now.”

he’s right. at least you’re here now. and you don’t plan on leaving again for a while.

© hoshologies 2023. do not translate, copy, or repost my work on any sight.

[hoshologies]

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