come to bed
￫ summary: It's been weeks since Hobi has come to bed with you due to his busy schedule. It isn't until you show up at his home studio door in the middle of the night—teary-eyed and desperate for his affection—to make him come to his senses.
￫ genre: hurt/comfort, fluff, slight tickle fic
￫ pairing(s): hobi x reader
￫ warnings: none
￫ word count: 2.9k
￫ A/N: fun fact, this is one of my first fics that i ever wrote! if there are any errors i sincerely apologize. also, seeing as i wrote this with myself in mind, please note that this fic is written from the perspective of fem!reader with my features.
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
You groaned as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes—if you could even call it sleep. You had been falling in and out of consciousness for the past two hours, never fully asleep but not quite awake. Turning onto your side aggressively, you could see why you had been struggling to rest.
Hobi’s side of the bed was bare. You huffed, immediately concluding that he had never come to bed like he said he would.
About an hour before your usual bedtime, you had peeked into Hobi’s home studio and asked him if he would be finishing up soon. He had told you ten minutes, and reluctantly, you let him be. Ten minutes turned into 20, and 20 turned into 30.
Hobi had been continuing this charade for weeks. You understood that comeback preparations required a lot of Hobi’s time, but a lot of that time had been bleeding into your relationship. You were seeing him less and less. You were trying to be understanding, but you missed him. Romantic kisses from him in the morning turned into quick pecks as he rushed out the door. Time that the two of you reserved for cuddling on the couch had been reduced to none. Plates of food that you left for him were being eaten in his studio, rather than with you at the table. At least he didn’t forget to do his dishes.
When thirty minutes turned into 45, you had popped your head into his studio again.
“I’m about to go to bed.” Your tone was flat. Maybe he’d recognize the impatience in your voice.
“Okay, jagi,” Hobi said without removing his eyes from the screen. His leg bounced up and down in his chair as he grooved to the beat in his headphones.
When you didn’t respond, he removed his headphones off of his head completely and turned to you.
“This is taking longer than I thought,” Hobi explained, failing to completely acknowledge your irritation. He was too focused on his work to realize how upset you were. His mind was elsewhere, already thinking about the next change he could make on the song rather than the sour look on your face or the hurt in your voice. “I’ll come to bed soon, jagi.”
“Right,” you said shortly. “Good night.”
Without another word, you spun on your heel and stormed off to bed without him. You had expected him to come back at an unreasonable time, but there was a sprinkle of hope left in you that he actually meant it the last time.
Now that you were awake, you could now see that you were dead wrong. You looked at the time on your phone, seeing that two hours had passed since you told Hobi you were going to bed. Hobi never came “soon,” like he claimed he would.
Frustrated tears brimmed your eyes. This was ridiculous. Hobi couldn’t keep procrastinating sleep, and you couldn’t keep pretending that you were okay going to bed without him night after night. You missed his cuddles—how he would play with your hair, and how he would graze his fingers across your bare back or down your arm. You missed how he would make cute noises each time he squeezed you closer. You missed how he’d hum until you’d drift off. It felt like you had been living alone for the last few weeks, and you didn’t like it one bit.
You let a few hot tears roll down your cheeks before deciding to drag Hobi out of his studio. You wanted him in bed, both for his health and selfishly, for your own sanity and emotional well-being.
You flipped the covers back, shivering at the slight breeze the action created. The floor creaked under you as you walked across the room and down the hallway.
You could see light seeping from underneath the door as you stood in front of it. You knocked on the wood, regretting it immediately. The determination and anger you felt in bed was brief. Standing in front of his door now, you realized that you only felt defeated, sad, and scared. You didn’t want to bother him, or make yourself look needy. But, you needed Hobi. You didn’t have the energy to physically drag him to bed, but you were at least going to beg him.
You almost turned to leave but the sound of his door opening stopped you.
“Jagiya,” Hobi said, scanning your face. “What’s wrong?” His eyes filled with worry as your own filled with tears. You dropped your eyes to the ground and wrung your hands together.
“Um, I can’t sleep.” This excuse wasn’t going to cut it; you had to tell him the whole story. It wasn’t just that you couldn’t sleep, it was that you couldn’t sleep because he wasn’t there.
“You don’t need to cry, jagiya, yeah? It’s alright.” Hobi ruffled your hair and placed a loud kiss to your forehead. “How about I take a break to tuck you in, hm?”
“Can you just…” You trailed off and exhaled a shaky breath. Your bottom lip quivered and the tears finally fell from your eyes. You felt embarrassed for not only asking, but for crying as well. It felt humiliating having to ask Hobi to give you the attention he had been failing to give you for several weeks. You felt like a little girl standing at his door, begging her parent for affection. You didn’t understand why he didn’t get it. Being tucked in wasn’t enough; you needed him beside you for the rest of the night and every night after. Regardless of your fears, you pushed them aside.
“Can you just come to bed, please? Can you be done for tonight?”
“I really want to, sunshine, but I still have to finish mixing the chorus before tomorrow.”
You whimpered. “Please, Hoseok. You said you’d be done soon, and that was over two hours ago. I just want to sleep next to you, baby. Please. You just—you’ve been…” You whimpered again. “I miss you.”
Hobi’s face fell at those words. He had so much work to do to prepare for the next album, and he let deadlines from the company come between you and him. It was impeding on the precious time he had with you. Hobi failed to notice how much of a toll it had taken on you. He had been missing you as well, thanks to an endless cycle of jumping out of bed earlier, skipping meals, and not going to bed at a reasonable time. However, he had pushed that pang in his heart away, deciding that it would all be worth it once comeback preparations paused. Hobi was able to keep his mind busy, but he didn’t realize that you couldn’t.
Seeing you cry like that in front of him—and to be the reason why—made him want to march up to Bang PD at that very moment and put his foot down. But that could wait until tomorrow. The song could wait a few more days.
“Honey, I’m so sorry,” Hobi said sorrowfully, taking your shoulders and guiding you into his chest.
You wrapped your arms around his torso and buried your face in his chest—tiny, yet rib-cracking sobs emitting from you. Hobi began patting the back of your head, causing your cries to get louder at his affection.
You had missed his presence, but you missed his comforting touch even more. You relished in the feeling of his hand resting on your knee, and the sensation of Hobi squeezing your shoulder when walking past you. You savored each back rub and the minutes he’d spend playing with your hair. You welcomed each hug, kiss, and tickle you received from him, but you had been offered none of that while he had been spending most of his waking hours in his home studio or at the HYBE building. You missed the feeling of being in his arms, and finally getting to experience that again made you emotional.
“Please, just come to bed,” you begged again, words slightly muffled by the fabric of his hoodie.
“I’m coming, honey, I’m coming,” Hobi reassured. He tried to pull away, attempting to shut down his computer and tend to other necessary items, but you tightened your hold around his waist. He leaned back to look at you, hoping that the several kisses he placed on top of your head would loosen your grip. When his kisses didn’t work, Hobi chuckled.
“You have to let go of me, silly,” Hobi teased gently, making you let out a watery giggle involuntarily.
“No,” you whined against him, but he could hear the smile fighting to reveal itself in your voice.
“I just need to save and close these files, okay, jagiya? I’m coming, baby, I promise.”
You let out an indignant grunt, but released yourself from Hobi’s warmth nevertheless. More tears filled your eyes as you watched him close each file and irrelevant internet tab. Although you had finally got a taste of the touch you needed, you were clingy and emotional, impatient to be held by him again. The seconds he spent shutting down his workspace felt like an eternity to you. Watching him hunched over as he clicked away made you want to jump on him; he looked so cuddly in his hoodie, brown waves falling just right on his head and clear skin glowing from the computer screen.
Hobi pushed his chair in and turned off the ambient lamp on his desk as the computer screen switched to a photo of you and him at the Han River.
“Done?” You asked with uncertainty, bottom lip wobbling. You didn’t know if he was truly finished for the night or if he was going to come up with an excuse to keep working.
Hobi nodded before giving you a reassuring smile. He grazed his thumbs across your cheeks to wipe the fresh tears away.
“Come here, you.” Hobi let out a playful growling sound before scooping you up in his arms.
Before you knew it, he was rushing out of his office and into your bedroom with you bouncing in his hold. He shut the door behind him with his foot and bustled across the room, coming to a halt at the edge of the bed. Hobi proceeded to pretend to drop you onto the mattress, turning your slowing weeps into giggles. He let out a dramatic, content sigh and exclaimed at a volume that was probably too loud for that hour, “Let’s get you comfy!”
Hobi pulled the sheets back and finally—plopped you onto the bed. He climbed in next to you and you closed your eyes, waiting for him to turn off the lamp on his nightstand. You sniffled a couple times as you felt him place the sheets over the two of you. He pulled you close to him and you snuggled into his warmth, your back against his chest.
Your tears were gone, as you now felt safe, secure, and at ease. Yet, sadness and anxiety still lingered inside you. You couldn’t help but worry that Hobi would go back to his office once he noticed you were asleep, or that he wouldn’t be there when you woke up in the morning. He was fixing tonight, but that didn’t guarantee that he was fixing tomorrow.
After a few seconds of you shifting around to get comfortable, you felt Hobi put his mouth close to your ear and asked at a rapid speed, “Are you okay? Are you warm? Are you comfy?” With every word, he used his finger to poke and prod you, causing you to let out a string of giggles. His eyes gleamed at your reaction.
“Dohohon’t,” you whined, but not bothering to hide your grin. You could practically feel his mischievous smile upon you.
“What? What am I doing? And why are you laughing?”
He growled into your ear playfully before blowing on your neck. You scrunched up your shoulders, trying to protect yourself. “You knohohow—“
Hobi put his hands under your shirt and trailed his fingers up and down your side, making you squirm. Although he was tickling you in a way that made you jerk and twitch, it felt comforting and soothing.
“W-why, are yohohou dohohoing thihis?” You asked, squirming around even more. You tried grabbing at his hands, but there was no use getting them to stop, for there was no way you could escape his hold on you. While his free hand traveled around the soft areas of your sides, his other arm wrapped around your shoulders and came around to grip your wrists—firm but gentle.
Hobi had you tucked up beside him in a secure hold, but you weren’t protesting—you delighted in it. It didn’t feel like Hobi held you that way because he was possessive or controlling; it simply reassured you that he reveled in holding you, protecting you, and touching you. It reassured you that he wanted to be with you, and was never shaken by how clingy or touchy you could get. You never felt threatened by Hobi’s firm hugs and cuddles; you felt safe and loved. Thus, the lack of physical affection from Hobi the past several weeks was taking a toll on you because you weren’t getting that reassurance. You needed the bear hugs, the feeling of practically being in his skin, the playful taunts that you couldn’t escape from his arms.
“Because I want to cheer you up, silly,” Hobi replied truthfully.
“But your cuddles—aha!—are juhuhust fihihine,” you tried to explain without completely dissolving into giggles.
“Fine?!” Hobi exclaimed, playfully bewildered. “My cuddles are just fine? That's it.”
You squealed as he dug his fingers into your sides and clawed at your tummy. He spidered his fingers over and in between your ribs, and you tried curling up into a ball to protect yourself. Hobi made sure to prevent that from happening, skillfully wrapping his legs around your own. You cried out in laughter as your body tried to thrash around at the ticklish sensations. He laughed right along with you, amused by your reactions.
“Wait!” You struggled to say. “Thahahahat’s not, nohohot what... nohohoho!!” Your sentence was cut short as your laughter became silent, for he blew a long, hard raspberry into your sensitive neck, right where it met your collarbone.
“I cahahahan’t!” You howled, scrunching up your shoulders weakly.
You gave up trying to fight him, allowing him to continue tickling you. You just laid there, only squirming and thrashing and writhing around because your reflexes told you to do so. You enjoyed this, and deep down you knew you needed this. Hobi did as well. He knew the significance of tickling in your life, such as how important it was in the context of physical touch. He was aware of how flustered it made you, but how it could also be used to cheer you up and release tension.
Soon, Hobi’s fingers began to slow and came to a stop. When he loosened his grip on you, you turned and looked up at him, breathing heavily at what just went down. As Hobi looked down at you, you noticed that indeed, he wore the mischievous smile you had felt searing into you when he first started his ambush of tickles.
“That's not what I meant,” you finally managed to get out, giggles still spilling from your mouth.
Hobi grinned at the smile plastered on your face, and said, “I know. And I also know that you loved that.”
You smacked him lightly, then hid your face in your hands, embarrassed that he exposed the truth. Admitting that you liked to be tickled was never easy, and Hobi never passed on an opportunity to tease you about it. If you needed him to dial it down, however, he would respect your wishes in a heartbeat.
“You’re mean,” you said sarcastically. Hobi forced you out of hiding, pushing your hands down and chuckling. When he could see your face again, he kissed your nose and forehead. Then, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb, he kissed your lips gently.
“My little sunshine,” he cooed as he pulled away.
You tittered, pecking the birthmark on his top lip. “I’m supposed to call you that.”
Hobi turned around slightly to reach the nightstand lamp to finally turn off the light. The light was out before you could catch him blushing at your affection.
You snuggled into your boyfriend once more. Hobi draped his arm over you and you felt him kiss the top of your head before delicately running his fingers through your hair.
“Hobi?” You questioned softly. He hummed deeply. “Are you… will you be here when I wake up?”
“Oh, baby,” Hobi sighed contently. “I’m taking the day off tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” you whispered, closing your eyes as they were quickly growing heavier and heavier.
“No, thank you, jagiya.” Hobi’s fingers scratched at your scalp. “You made me realize that I need a break, and that I’ve been taking advantage of your patience and understanding. I just kept thinking to myself that you’ll always be here, but I didn’t show you that I could always be here for you. That song can wait. Deadlines can wait. My baby can’t. I’m so sorry it took me this long to see that.”
If you weren’t so exhausted, you knew that the little energy you had left would have been enough to make you burst into grateful tears.
“I love you.”
“I’m pretty sure I love you more,” he whispered teasingly, fluttering his fingers over your ear.
You giggled softly before drifting off to sleep, feeling reassured and content now that Hobi was where he belonged.
