3 Times No, 3 Times Yes
Hoseok’s holiday plan was simple:
Ask you to be his fake girlfriend.
Impress his parents.
Definitely NOT confess his feelings.
Unfortunately, he is Hoseok. So everything went wrong in the most dramatic way possible.
Good thing you’re into disasters.
Author’s Note: Another one of those “it came to me in a dream” fics — because apparently my subconscious has Hoseok running around in a suit, holding flowers, and making terrible life choices. I don’t question it anymore. I just wake up, sigh, and go, “Fine. I’ll write it.”
Enjoy the chaos. Hobi made me do it.
“No.”
That was your answer the first time Hobi approached you at lunch in the HYBE café one winter afternoon—when he found you, tray in hand, to ask if you’d do him a tiny favor and pretend to be his girlfriend at Christmas so his parents would stop hounding him to “at least date.”
“Come on, Y/n! They’re trying to set me up with some girl I don’t even like!”
“Not my problem.” You sipped your tea, scrolling through social media without even glancing up.
“Y/n!” he whined, dropping dramatically into the chair beside you and giving you his best puppy dog eyes. You didn’t even blink.
“Nope. Go ask Namjoon’s sister.”
“He would skin me alive,” he groaned.
“Again, not my problem.” You smirked.
“You’re so mean to me,” he pouted, slinking away and leaving you to your lunch.
The second time he asked was a few days later.
You were on your way to the bathroom when he intercepted you in the hallway.
“No,” you said before he even opened his mouth.
“Oh come on! You don’t even know what I was going to ask!”
“And I’m not brainless, Jung Hoseok.” You sidestepped him and closed the bathroom door in his face with surgical precision.
He groaned loud enough for the whole floor to hear before trudging back to his studio.
The third time was during a break between recording sessions. You’d brought lunch to the members, and the moment you stepped into the studio, Hobi beelined toward you like a man possessed.
“Nope! Not doing it, Hoseok!” you snapped, pointing a warning finger that froze him mid stride.
“Please, Y/n! I’m desperate! I go home for Christmas next week!”
“Again—not my problem,” you sing songed, breezing out of the room. His groan echoed behind you, followed by the sound of six men laughing at his misery.
“Why do you keep asking her to be your fake girlfriend?” Jungkook asked as they gathered around the table.
Hobi slumped into a chair. “Because asking her to be my real girlfriend has me scared as fuck.”
“You like her that much?” Taehyung asked, genuinely curious.
“Pretty sure I’m in love with her,” Hobi admitted.
“You should tell her that, hyung,” Jimin said. “Instead of trying to trick her.”
“But—”
“But nothing. She thinks you’re being creepy right now. If I were her, I’d run far away and not look back,” Jin added.
“Not helping,” Hobi muttered.
“Just be honest with her, Hoseokie. You know she values that more than anything,” Yoongi said.
Hobi looked around helplessly. “Will you help me? I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
“Of course,” Namjoon said warmly. Then, with a smirk: “Anything to keep you away from my sister.”
“You heard about that, huh?” Hobi groaned as Namjoon clapped his shoulder.
The invitation arrived the next evening as you were leaving for the day—dinner with all seven of them at the rooftop restaurant. Nothing unusual; you always made time for them when you could. So you headed up to the 16th floor without a second thought.
But when the elevator doors opened, the restaurant was silent.
You frowned. Maybe you had the wrong time?
A passing waiter approached. “Here for dinner?”
“Yes. Not busy this evening?” you asked as he led you to a table.
“Private event. You’re the first to arrive.”
Weird. You didn’t remember anything on the company calendar.
He brought your favorite wine. Then another waiter appeared, carrying a small covered box, which he set in front of you.
“What’s this?” you asked.
“A gift,” he said with a knowing smile before walking away.
You hesitated, then lifted the lid.
Inside was a perfectly frosted cake.
But it was the words piped across the top that made your breath catch.
No joke this time.Be mine?
“Dammit, Hoseok!” you sighed, dragging your hands down your face.
“I’m serious about this.”
The voice behind you made you turn—and freeze.
He stood there in a dark three piece suit that looked almost comically formal on him, like he’d borrowed confidence from someone else’s closet. In his hands was a small bouquet of your favorite flowers. And for once, there was no grin, no teasing sparkle, no sunshine.
Your heart did a strange, traitorous flip.
“I’ve been trying to ask you out for weeks,” he said quietly. “And I used the fake girlfriend thing to hide how scared I was.”
“Then why do it at all?” you asked, exasperation thinning into something softer.
“Because I am crazily in love with you,” he whispered, dropping to one knee beside your chair, “and I didn’t know how to say it.”
The flip in your chest turned into a full on dance.
“You make me so tongue-tied,” he admitted, voice barely above a breath. “Every time I try to tell you, I panic.”
“Am I that unapproachable?”
“No.” He shook his head quickly. “I just… I look at you sometimes and lose all sense of myself. You make my heart do weird things.”
“Then stop pretending, Hoseok.”
Your smile hit him like a physical thing—his breath caught, his shoulders sagged, and his heart did its own weird somersault. He swallowed hard and reached for your hand, fingers trembling.
“Y/n,” he said, voice cracking on your name, “I am crazily, desperately, insanely in love with you. W-Will you… will you be my girlfriend?”
You didn’t answer.
You leaned in and kissed him.
He gasped softly against your lips, surprise melting instantly into something reverent—like he’d been waiting his whole life for this exact moment.
When you finally pulled back, his eyes stayed closed for a beat, a dazed, blissed out smile spreading across his face.
“Yes,” you whispered.
His eyes snapped open at your answer, and the smile that had endeared him to you for years—bright, warm, impossibly sincere—lit up his face like the sunshine he was nicknamed for.
“That wasn’t a ‘no,’” he breathed, needing the confirmation.
“No,” you giggled.
“You said ‘yes.’”
“Yes,” you laughed, and that was all it took.
He surged forward and kissed you—unexpectedly intense, all the fear and longing he’d been holding back pouring into the moment. You melted into him instantly, arms sliding around his neck as if they’d always belonged there.
Across the room, half-hidden in the kitchen doorway, his six bandmates watched with matching fond smiles.
“About time,” Yoongi smirked. “All that pining was giving me a headache.”
“Come on,” Namjoon murmured, herding them away with a gentle push. “Let’s leave them alone.”
Hoseok was still staring at you like he couldn’t quite believe you were real.
You nudged his knee with yours. “You’re staring.”
“I’m allowed,” he whispered, cheeks flushed. “You’re my girlfriend now.”
The word hit him like a second confession. He laughed—quiet, breathless, disbelieving—and pressed his forehead to yours.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to say that.”
You brushed your thumb along his jaw. “You could’ve just asked, you know.”
“I tried,” he groaned. “Every time I opened my mouth, my brain short circuited and I said something stupid.”
“You did,” you agreed, grinning.
He laughed again, the sound warm and relieved. “But you still said yes.”
“I did.”
He kissed you once more—softer this time, lingering, like he was memorizing the shape of the moment. When he pulled back, he squeezed your hand and stood, offering it to you.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get out of here before the guys come back with confetti or a banner or something.”
You snorted. “They would.”
“They absolutely would,” he said, helping you up. “And I want our first date to be… just us.”
You let him lead you toward the elevator, fingers intertwined, the city lights glittering through the windows like they were celebrating with him.
Just before the doors closed, you heard a distant whisper from down the hall:
“Did they leave yet?”
“Shh, Taehyung, they’ll hear you.”
“Jungkook, put the camera down.”
“Hyung, I’m documenting history.”
“Jungkook.”
Hoseok groaned, burying his face in your shoulder as the elevator doors slid shut.
“They’re never going to let us live this down,” he muttered.
You laughed, leaning into him. “Good thing you’re stuck with me now.”
He lifted his head, eyes shining. “Best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
The elevator hummed softly as it descended, its quiet rhythm matching the steady thrum of your heartbeat. Hoseok’s hand tightened around yours—firmer, more certain—like he’d finally found the courage to hold on and had no intention of ever letting go.
When the doors slid open, the world outside greeted you with a hush. Snow drifted lazily through the night air, settling on the city streets in a soft, glittering blanket. The glow of streetlamps caught in the flakes, turning them into sparks of light that seemed to dance just for the two of you.
Hoseok leaned closer, his breath warm against the chill. His voice was low, almost tentative, but carrying a weight that made your chest ache.
“Come home with me for Christmas?”
You tilted your face up to him, the cold air nipping at your cheeks, but the warmth in your chest spreading faster than the winter chill could reach. His suit looked out of place against the snowy backdrop, but the flowers in his hand and the hope in his eyes made him seem perfectly right.
A soft smile curved your lips, the kind that spoke of relief, of joy, of finally letting go of hesitation.
“Yes.”
The word hung between you, simple yet monumental, and Hoseok’s answering grin was brighter than the city lights, brighter than the snow, brighter than anything you’d ever seen.
Together, you stepped into the night, the snow crunching beneath your feet, his hand still clasped around yours with reverence and certainty. The world felt quieter, softer, as though it was holding its breath for you both.
📱 GROUP CHAT: “Bangtan & The Disaster”
Jin: They kissed. I repeat: THEY. KISSED.
Jungkook: I GOT VIDEO
Namjoon: Delete it.
Jungkook: No.
Yoongi: If you post it anywhere I’m shaving your head.
Taehyung: Send it to ME though.
Jimin: I can’t believe it took a cake, a suit, and a full mental breakdown for this to happen.
Jin: Honestly? I expected fireworks. Or Hoseok fainting.
Yoongi: He almost did. I saw his knees buckle.
Hobi: WHY ARE YOU ALL TALKING LIKE I’M NOT HERE
Jungkook: Because you’re too busy making heart eyes in the snow rn.
Hobi: I AM NOT
Taehyung: Bro you literally said “she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me” out loud. We HEARD you.
Hobi: STOP LISTENING TO ME
Yoongi: Then stop yelling your feelings at maximum volume.
Jimin: Anyway congrats hyung 💕 We’re all proud of you for finally using your words.
Hobi: I used my words!!!
Namjoon: After three failed attempts, a panic attack, and a cake.
Hobi: IT WAS A GOOD CAKE
Jin: It was a confession cake. You’re lucky she didn’t eat it and leave.
Jungkook: Imagine if she said no again omg
Hobi: WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT
Taehyung: She didn’t tho. She kissed you. With tongue.
Hobi: TAEHYUNG PLEASE
Yoongi: I’m muting this chat.
Jimin: No you’re not.
Yoongi: …no I’m not.
Namjoon: Anyway, Hoseok, bring her to Christmas. Your mom already texted me asking if it’s true.
Hobi: WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE TEXTED YOU
Jin: Oh yeah we told her.
Hobi: YOU WHAT
Jungkook: She said “finally.”
Hobi: I HATE ALL OF YOU
Taehyung: No you don’t. You’re in love and soft now.
Hobi: I WILL BLOCK THIS ENTIRE GROUP
Yoongi: No you won’t. You need us.
Hobi: …yeah okay that’s fair.
Jimin: Tell Y/n we said welcome to the family 💛
Hobi: I will. …after I stop screaming into the snow.
📞“Umma Knows Everything”
Hoseok’s phone started buzzing the second you both stepped outside into the snow. He glanced at the screen, froze, and made a noise somewhere between a squeak and a groan.
You raised an eyebrow. “Who is it?”
He turned the screen toward you.
“Umma.”
You bit your lip to keep from laughing.
“Answer it,” you said.
“I can’t,” he whispered, horrified. “She’ll know.”
“Hoseok… she already knows.”
He winced like you’d stabbed him with the truth.
Still, he swiped to answer.
“Hi, umma,” he said, voice suddenly three octaves higher.
“Hoseok‑ah,” came his mother’s voice, warm and sharp all at once. “Why am I hearing from Namjoon that you finally confessed to that girl you’ve been crying about for months?”
He closed his eyes. “I didn’t cry.”
“You absolutely cried,” she said. “You cried on FaceTime. Twice.”
You covered your mouth to hide your snort.
Hoseok glared at you. “Umma, please—”
“Put her on the phone.”
His soul left his body.
“Umma, she’s right here—”
“Good. Hand her the phone.”
He looked at you helplessly, like a man being marched to his execution. You took the phone gently.
“Hello, Mrs. Jung,” you said politely.
“Y/n‑ah,” she said warmly, “thank you for finally saying yes. My son is a good boy, but he is also… how do I say this nicely…?”
You waited.
“…a dramatic mess.”
Hoseok choked. “UMMA!”
She ignored him completely.
“You come to Christmas, yes? I already set a place for you. And I bought you a gift. And I told the neighbors.”
You blinked. “The… neighbors?”
“Yes. They’ve been waiting for this too.”
Hoseok looked like he might pass out.
“Umma, please stop—”
“Hoseok, hush. I’m talking to my future daughter‑in‑law.”
You nearly dropped the phone.
Hoseok made a strangled noise. “UMMA PLEASE.”
His mother laughed, delighted. “I’m joking. Mostly. But you bring her home. I want to meet the girl who finally made you brave.”
Your heart softened. “I’d love to come.”
“Good. I’ll cook everything. Hoseok, don’t be late. And don’t embarrass me.”
“I won’t!” he said, offended.
“You already did,” she replied. “But it’s fine. Y/n seems patient.”
You handed the phone back to him before you burst out laughing.
“Umma, I’m hanging up now,” he said weakly.
“Bring flowers,” she added. “And don’t wear that ugly sweater.”
“UMMA—”
Click.
The call ended.
Hoseok stared at his phone like it had personally betrayed him.
You slipped your hand into his. “Your mom is adorable.”
“She’s terrifying,” he whispered.
You smiled. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
He groaned into your shoulder. “I’m never living this down.”
You kissed his cheek. “Good thing you’re stuck with me.”
He brightened instantly. “Yeah… best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
And with that, he pulled you into the snow, hand warm in yours, already imagining the chaos of Christmas — and somehow, loving every second of it.
📞“No Way You Finally Did It”
Hoseok’s phone barely had time to recover from his mom’s call before it started buzzing again. He glanced down, saw the name on the screen, and immediately tried to hide behind you.
You blinked. “Who now?”
He whispered it like a curse. “...my sister.”
You grinned. “Answer it.”
“No. She’s worse than my mom.”
The phone kept ringing. And ringing. And ringing.
You nudged him. “Hoseok.”
He groaned like a man being dragged to his doom and finally swiped to answer.
“WHAT,” he said, defeated.
Jiwoo didn’t even say hello.
“YOU DID IT?!”
Hoseok flinched. “Can you not yell at me immediately—”
“ARE YOU KIDDING? I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS SINCE AUGUST. YOU OWE ME MONEY.”
He blinked. “Why would I owe you money?”
“Because I bet mom you’d chicken out until next year.”
You snorted. Hoseok glared at you.
“Stop laughing,” he hissed.
Jiwoo gasped dramatically. “IS THAT HER? IS SHE RIGHT THERE? PUT ME ON SPEAKER.”
“No.”
“PUT. ME. ON. SPEAKER.”
He sighed the sigh of a man who had lost every battle today and tapped the button.
“Hi Y/n!” she chirped instantly, voice bright enough to melt snow.
You smiled. “Hi, Jiwoo.”
“THANK YOU.”
Hoseok frowned. “For what?”
“For finally putting him out of his misery,” she said. “Do you know how many times he called me crying about you?”
“I DID NOT CRY.”
“You absolutely cried,” she said. “You cried on FaceTime. With snot.”
“NO I DIDN’T—”
You covered your mouth, shoulders shaking.
Jiwoo continued, relentless. “He practiced confessing to you in the mirror. Twice. I have video.”
“DELETE IT,” Hoseok begged.
“Never,” she said cheerfully. “I’m playing it at your wedding.”
“WE ARE NOT—”
You squeezed his hand. “We’ll talk about it later.”
He choked.
His sister squealed. “OH MY GOD SHE’S PERFECT.”
Hoseok looked like he needed medical attention.
“Okay,” he said weakly. “We’re hanging up now.”
“Bring her home for Christmas!” she sang. “I already told everyone!”
“EVERYONE?” he repeated, horrified.
“Yep! Byeee!”
Click.
The call ended.
Hoseok stared at his phone like it had personally betrayed him for the second time that night.
You leaned into him, laughing softly. “Your family is adorable.”
“They’re unhinged,” he muttered.
You kissed his cheek. “So are you.”
He brightened instantly. “Yeah… but now I’m unhinged with you.”
And honestly? He wouldn’t have it any other way.
📞“Son.”
Hoseok’s phone buzzed again.
He froze.
You froze.
Both of you stared at the screen like it was a bomb.
Dad.
Hoseok whispered, “I can’t do this.”
You patted his arm. “You survived your mom and your sister.”
“My dad is different,” he said, eyes wide. “He’s… calm.”
“So?”
“He’s calm in a way that means he knows EVERYTHING.”
The phone kept buzzing.
You nudged him. “Answer it.”
He inhaled like he was about to dive underwater and swiped to pick up.
“Hi, Dad,” he said, voice suddenly small.
There was a pause. A long one. Too long.
Then:
“Son.”
Hoseok straightened like he’d been drafted into the military. “Yes?”
Another pause.
“I hear you finally told her.”
Hoseok blinked rapidly. “I—how—who—”
“Your mother.”
Of course.
Hoseok cleared his throat. “Uh… yes. I did.”
Another pause. You could practically hear the fatherly judgment through the phone.
“Took you long enough.”
Hoseok’s jaw dropped. “DAD.”
You slapped a hand over your mouth to hide your laugh.
His father continued, voice calm, steady, and absolutely lethal:
“I told your mother you’d confess before the end of the year.”
Hoseok frowned. “You two made a bet?”
“Yes.”
“About me?”
“Yes.”
“…Did you win?”
“Of course.”
You lost it. Hoseok glared at you, betrayed.
His father wasn’t done.
“She seems like a good one.”
Hoseok softened immediately. “She is.”
“Treat her well.”
“I will.”
“Don’t panic.”
“I’m not panicking.”
“…You’re panicking.”
“I’M NOT—”
You squeezed his hand. He deflated instantly.
His father hummed, amused.
“Bring her home for Christmas.”
Hoseok blinked. “You want to meet her?”
“I want to meet the woman who finally made you stop pacing holes in my floor.”
Hoseok turned bright red. “DAD.”
“Drive safe. And don’t wear that sweater your mother hates.”
“WHY DOES EVERYONE HATE THAT SWEATER—”
Click.
The call ended.
Hoseok stared at his phone like it had personally betrayed him for the third time that night.
You leaned into him, smiling. “Your dad seems sweet.”
“He’s terrifying,” Hoseok whispered.
You kissed his cheek. “Still coming home for Christmas?”
He nodded, dazed. “Yeah. With you.”
And honestly? He’d never felt braver.
