#this + a blunt + warm sunny day

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. boothill spending a nice, sunny day on the ranch with his family !

tags. pre-cyborg!boothill x wife!female reader. fluff, one tiny hint of angst. sfw. daughter is adopted. based on boothill’s lore. reader gets called ‘mama/momma’. i shed a tear writing this

“aye, yer getting good, kiddo.” boothill grins as he humors his daughter. he’s sitting on a patch of grass underneath an old tree, with his little girl sitting on his lap. his stetson hat lays low on his head, a piece of straw grass between his teeth.

days like these are the reason why he cherishes life. peaceful days where his wife and kid are the only ones surrounding him. home is where he belongs; with his daughter playing the tiny guitar he made her from scratch.

well—more like she’s beating it up.

“dada! dada!” she squeals as she harshly pats the strings, creating an unsatisfactory sound that would make anyone in the vicinity cringe. though, to boothill the sound is a sign of life. of his beloved child being carefree and happy.

the cowboy runs his fingers through the girl’s locks, admiring the little bundle of joy that’s been bestowed upon him. ever since he took her in, life’s been nothing but joyful. “adorable, ain’t ya?” boothill mumbles to no one in particular.

a warm breeze lifts his bangs ever so slightly, revealing those unique eyes of his. they’re filled with nothing but admiration for his daughter. perhaps also a hint of bittersweet warmth.

she’s growing up so fast.

“honey, dinner’s ready!” your voice makes both boothill and the child look up. boothill’s signature smirk only widens the moment you come out of the main house, wiping your hands off with your apron. you look stunning underneath the orange-ish sky. you’re also a reminder of how good boothill has it.

boothill nods and squeezes his daughter’s cheeks, gaining a small giggle at the touch. the calluses on his hands are a contrast to her smooth skin. the chubbiness in her cheeks is absolutely adorable to the white and black-haired man.

“oh, ya hear that? y’r momma made us some food,” boothill pokes the girl’s sides, which makes her laugh again. his favorite sound. she abandons her guitar and stands up, her legs still somewhat wobbly. she had only recently learnt how to walk on her own after all.

“mama!” the kid repeats, reaching her tiny hands out to your figure in the distance. you smile at the sight and crouch down, spreading your arms as you encourage her to walk towards you.

you nod and let out a small chuckle, “hi, baby! c’mon— come to mama!”

your daughter gasps and tries to find her balance before she sets another step. boothill watches her with a fond smile, his hands ready to catch her if she were to fall. though, there doesn’t seem to be any need for those precautions.

she waddles over to you in no time. her little gasps and pants as she tries to run melt the cowboy’s heart. he gets up and walks behind the tiny girl, a sudden mischievous grin on his face.

“heh,” boothill chuckles before acting like he’s going to run after her and catch her if she doesn’t run away from him, “better run before i catch ya!”

the child takes the light-hearted threat seriously and squeals at the sight of her father figure ‘running’ after her. her legs take her towards you as fast as they can, working overtime to reach the other side of the ranch, “waaaaaah!”

you laugh at the sight of your husband chasing after the little girl. he’s good with children—to your utter surprise. before boothill came home with the abandoned baby, you didn’t know if he’d have the skills to care for children. he is blunt, straightforward and rough in some ways.

however, your worries were soon to be proven wrong. it’s like boothill’s destined to be a girl dad. that’s how well he can get along with your adoptive daughter. it was difficult for him at first, but with some trial and error, he’s turned into a great father figure.

“got’cha!” boothill exclaims as he scoops the small child up in his arms the second she got close to you. he tickles her sides and she squirms—giggling like she’s never done before.

“nooooo!” she tries to protest between laughs, but it seems to be an impossible task. her little legs kick wildly in boothill’s embrace, but he doesn’t let up. he puts her over his shoulder and wraps his free arm around your waist, pulling you close to him.

“the food smells good, babe,” boothill whispers and kisses the top of your head. the smell of your delicious cooking makes his mouth water. he pinches your cheek and flashes you that charming grin of his not a second later, “bet it tastes fuckin’ amazing too.”

“language, honey,” you roll your eyes playfully and slap boothill’s bicep as a reminder. he simply shrugs and laughs menacingly.

you walk back with him into the house, one hand of his resting on your waist, whilst the other secures your (still squealing) daughter on his shoulder.

the sun setting gives the sky beautiful colors. orange, purple, yellow and a bit of red. it adds to the beauty of this moment—a family of three living happily ever after on their ranch—with nothing or no one to ruin their lives.

or so they thought.

[revelboo]

The speed in which you crank out fics is concerning. Like, I appreciate it WHOLLY, but are you good? R u ok?

Rest is overrated, I run on stress and coffee. Yes, I’m good. I can write short form like this pretty quickly if I’m not at work or busy.

Humans Are Weird/Cute Headcanons

Humans elicit one of two reactions in Cybertronians. It’s not like they haven’t seen organic life before, but the fact that we look vaguely like most Cybertronians in form? Our faces, our body shapes, two legs and two arms just like them? It either creates an unconscious association that we look like tiny, organic Cybertronians or that the similarities are just unsettling. Compounding it is the way we move, the gestures we use that are so eerily like their own. To make it worse, we’re just so helpless compared to them. Fragile. There’s a tendency to react to us like we would a newborn kitten. And for that protectiveness to eventually slide into possessiveness.

TFP Knockout

• Primus. The first time he saw you in full racing leathers, boots, gloves, and that helmet, he just stopped short in surprise. Thinks of the rare times he’d seen minicons and how you look like one instead of just another squishy, little human. And while he’d initially just been invested in figuring out how an inferior, little human beat him in a race, it doesn’t take long for him to start looking forward to those almost nightly meetings. It becomes less about winning and more about the bull session between you two after. Enjoying when you stand up to him, argue with him, even though you must realize he could hurt you so easily if he wanted to.

IDW Bumblebee

• It’s honestly such a pleasant surprise how tactile humans are. You seem to have no sense of personal space and he loves it, because it’s less lonely when you’re near. You don’t mind being picked up and carried, your little frame so warm in his hands or cradled against him. Always so curious, your little hands exploring his servos, while you smile to yourself. Then holding out your own hands so he can carefully manipulate them with a single servo. It’s like a game between you, showing off your little, blunt teeth so he will bare his denta for you as you sit on his thigh.

IDW Bluestreak

• Knows he can be a bit annoying to some bots, but you never seem bothered by his chatter. Actually asking him questions, interacting and it means so much to him when you stretch out against him, laying a cheek on him to listen to the sound of his voice rumbling through you. Liking it when he talks, wanting to be near him. The big surprise, though? How protective you are of him, not even thinking twice about throwing a shoe at Sunny for making a rude comment aimed at him, your little face red as you snarl at the much bigger bot, who’s too shocked at the outburst to respond.

IDW Starscream

• Having so little to call his own, he’s extremely possessive of you. It doesn’t hurt that you’re always happy to see him, greeting him when he returns from patrol, fussing over his injuries like you’re trying to take care of him. No conniving or plotting in you and no ulterior motives for seeking out his company. Aside from leeching body heat, and he hardly minds that, enjoys the feel of you sprawled against him, the peaceful silence.

TFP Soundwave

• Even though he initially took you because of the effect your strange organic thoughts have on him to try and understand why he can’t shut you out, it’s impossible to stay impartial. Every day he tries to inoculate himself against your thoughts, strengthening that connection through touch. And when you start reaching for him in return it’s a surprise. Eventually you sing for him not because he asked you to in an effort to distract you and focus your thoughts on something so they’re less painful to him, but because you want to. Because you think it makes him happy and it does.

ES Megatron

• He’d never paid much attention to humans until he’d met Dorothy, he’d fought alongside her and suddenly humanity wasn’t just something vaguely annoying getting in his way, under ped. It’s harder to not care after getting to know humans. Harder to not be overprotective about you after making it his mission to look after you. And maybe he’s a bit overzealous about it, because you’re not Dorothy. She can stand on her own and take care of herself, but you? You need him.

IDW Optimus

• He’s so used to being bigger than most Autobots. Of being looked up to, but you’re even tinier than they are. Small enough to carry in one hand even though he’s awkward about asking you to let him carry you at first. But after the spark twisting anxiety of watching you walking where bigger Cybertronians are walking? Seeing it not even occur to you that you might get stepped on? He insists on carrying you for your own safety, though, truth be told, he enjoys the feel of you in his servos, that little bemused smile you aim at him.

IDW Thundercracker

• He feels guilty sometimes about taking you, but it’s for the best even if you’re upset now. He’s seen enough movies to know how to coax you, win you over. He became obsessed with human love stories, the drama and romance. And he wants that for himself. Needs it. So he tries different tactics, little gifts and acts meant to convince you to love him. It’s so easy in the movies.

TFP Megatron

• The game you two play has become something of a guilty pleasure of his. Watching you pretend. Pushing you to see how far you’ll allow before you snap at him. Pretending you aren’t scared of him, though he’s seen the fear in your eyes once or twice and while it had amused him at first, he prefers you snarling back at him, all attitude. Your fear twists unpleasantly through him, but that angry defiance? So lovely.

IDW Soundwave

• He never meant to get so attached to you after he’d found you in Starscream’s quarters that day. You’re just so small and you’d looked at him in fear, your wild emotions almost crippling him since he couldn’t shut it out. Even after you calmed, days later, he finds himself reaching out a thought. Finding you and monitoring you from a distance. Again and again until he’d finally had to check on you in person again. After all, what did Starscream really know about caring for anyone, let alone a human. And that hesitant, little smile had warmed him when you’d looked up at him.

IDW Jazz

• The fact that you can see through his lies and will call him out on it? It’s a surprise and a relief. Letting down his defenses, letting you in takes time. He’s worn that smiling, carefree mask for so long. But he slowly lets it fall away when it’s just the two of you, feeling the absence of that weight he’d carried for so long. Getting to know who he is under the facade.

IDW Prowl

• Has to protect you since you don’t seem to understand just how small and delicate you are. Standing up to him and any other bot with zero fear. Something about that reckless anger calls to him. Around the other Autobots, he has to be the one in control, the one with a plan no matter what. Never allowed to falter or hesitate. You spark his own temper, making it easier to drop the act. Be frustrated or angry when it’s just you two. Be real.

Next

[onceonafullmoon]

Mirror

Rin x GN!Reader

Comfort Angst, experiences of anxiety attacks, Reader and Rin are both kind of obsessive lmao, some threats of violence but nothing happens, established relationship and also merry christmas though this fic has nothing to do with that!!

“Speak for yourself. I’m perfectly logical.” He eventually retorts. You actually laugh at that, though it definitely sounds weak and shaky even to your own ears. “…stupid.” You say with a fond smile. “At least I can be honest with myself.”

It’s a sunny day as you watch your boyfriend on the field, his figure distant as you sit in the stands, watching him practice. The birds are chirping, a few fluffy clouds decorate the sky and the temperature is mild if not a bit warm… it’s a beautiful day. 

And you’re pissed off.

Not at him, almost never at him despite his oftentimes abrasive and harsh demeanor. But then again, you’ve always been exceptionally lenient when it comes to Rin.

No, the reason you’re pissed off isn’t because of Rin, rather it’s because of your own issues, your own stewing jealousy when a particularly pretty girl happened to confess her feelings to your handsome boyfriend in the form of a note in his locker.

Obviously, he rejected her, in that blunt way of his, but even then you couldn’t help but notice how he took the time to make sure he rejected her in person, still respecting her feelings despite the fact that he didn’t return them.

And it really shouldn’t bother you… but you’ve always been, unhinged, to say the least.

It’s hard to explain exactly, but, when it comes to the people in your life, when it comes to hobbies you have, anything that you’re passionate about, you tend to get absorbed in those things in a rather unhealthy way.

Like that time you dropped all your plans to cheer up your best friend when she was only mildly upset, or that time you watched a series and then made it your entire personality for a month straight… you’ve always been a tad obsessive.

And when it comes to you, it feels more juvenile to feel this way. 

It’s hard to explain, but you’ve always been more emotionally honest than Rin, and for that reason you feel like you come off as more needy. 

Or maybe that means you’re more emotionally mature.

Or not.

You don’t know, you hate going in circles like this, pacing around in your own mind. Sometimes you wonder if you were more like Rin and ignored your feelings it would be less annoying. But you suppose that self awareness is one of your strengths.

Although, you have to admit, self awareness is also a curse when you have to deal with your own negative emotions rather than having a philosophical discussion, which brings you back to your conflicting feelings.

You don’t like being jealous, no one does, but you feel especially icky about the types of thoughts it brings. You don’t like the fact that your first thought towards this girl was so negative, you don’t like the fact that you feel like a worse person because of that and you don’t like the fact that a very primal part of you wants to march over onto that field and kiss your boyfriend senseless for no reason other than to see his swollen lips afterwards.

Normally, you’d have no problem talking about your feelings with Rin, as emotionally closed off and brash as he is, but something about this makes you feel like you want to stick your head into a hole in the ground, much like an ostrich. Or, to put it plainly, you’re a mess and you’re losing your mind trying not to implode with all your emotions.

Imploding can wait though, you’ll dissect this when you get home, right now you’ll throw on a smile and talk to your boyfriend who you are most certainly not creating scenarios of sneaking off with this pretty girl with her stupid pretty smile and her dumbass cute hairstyle–

Right.

No imploding.

You sigh and shake your head, looking back at the field, watching as Rin begins to wrap up his practice and take that as your cue to make your way over to him after you hop off of your seat in the risers. 

As you near him you can make out his features more distinctly, the sharp curve of his jaw, the length of his under lashes, the pretty teal of his eyes… he’s stupidly handsome as always, and it makes you feel even more ticked off, though you do your best to suppress those thoughts.

“Hey, you.” You say with a smile, picking up his water bottle from the bench and tossing it his way as if practiced, and he catches it with ease, popping the cap off to take a drink, his eyes meeting yours.

To this day, you can’t tell if you hate making eye contact with him or if you adore it.

“...Hey.” He answers after swallowing, his gaze darting across your form.

You’re not entirely sure what he’s searching for, but you hope he doesn’t notice anything different in your demeanor. 

“I’d say you did good out there but I’d be lying if I implied I knew what I was looking for.” You say, in your usual slightly self-deprecating demeanor.

He scoffs, his eyes rolling slightly. “You don’t need to know anything, it’s me.”

Cocky bastard.

“That’s annoyingly cool of you to say.” You say with a small laugh. “I need to learn some one liners like that from you.”

“I wouldn’t bother trying.” He retorts, pushing his hair back in a move that nearly makes you choke on your saliva from how annoyingly good he looks before speaking again. “...how was your day?”

“Fine.” You answer almost too quickly, before pausing to elaborate.

“Just a regular day I mean, nothing extraordinary happened, unless you count the amount of times that I watched someone trip over that crack on the sidewalk.”

Rin furrows his brow. “What crack?”

“You haven’t seen it? It’s like right outside the window in homeroom, like right by the tree.”

“...is that what you’ve been paying attention to? Not the goddamn teacher?”

“Only sometimes! Besides, I’ve seen like five people almost eat shit, it’s entertaining in it’s own right.”

“You’re hopeless, this is the reason–”

You sigh. “Look, my grades are fine, I’m fine, let’s just move on instead of turning this into another stupid “see this is why you should focus more” speeches.”

He tilts his head at you, squinting like you’ve grown two heads, and you feel both annoyed and weirdly vulnerable under his analytical gaze. 

“What?” You ask, almost defensively.

“You…” He says with a small frown. “What’s wrong with you?”

You laugh, though it sounds more like a scoff, and this time it’s more out of a sense of disbelief. “Wow, okay, rude. Do you want my therapist’s notes or something, jackass?”

Immediately after the words leave your mouth you feel yourself regretting them. They’re juvenile, stupid and childish and you can feel your face grow warm. 

Great, you can’t even pretend right, what good are you?

His eyes narrow. “Maybe I do, maybe that’ll help me understand why you’re acting like–”

“Like a bitch?” You interrupt.

Oh gods. What are you doing? What is this?

He blinks at you, as if taken aback by your suggestion. “What the hell are you talking about?”

You close your mouth, feeling everything bubble up again inside you, the jealousy, the insecurities, the annoyance, the embarrassment, all of it is swirling inside you and suddenly it just feels like you’re choking on the weight of all of it, like it’s stuck in your throat.

It’s silent for a while, his hard gaze boring into you while you stand there, feeling like a complete idiot, chewing on your tongue while you try to find the will to speak. 

He sighs then, breaking the silence between the two of you before speaking again. “...talk to me.”

And you do. You do want to talk to him, whether it’s to brush him off, or to open up, anything would be fine, you just want to speak. But you can’t. 

There are too many thoughts, too many things piling up, but you just need to speak, just speak, speak–

He furrows his brow at the continued silence. “...if you have a problem, tell me, but if you’re just going to be childish and give me the silent treatment then this conversation is over.”

Childish? You’re not childish, you just can’t talk, it’s not your fault– 

Is it?

Is it your fault? 

Gods who are you kidding, of course it’s your fault, you can’t even fucking talk how pathetic is that? No wonder he’s looking at other girls you can barely even hold a goddamn conversation, not to mention, she’s so pretty and you’re not– maybe if you could just write some words down– but fucking hell you’re so childish, he’s right, you’re not ready for a relationship– all you have to do is say something– he must fucking hate you–

It’s only when you have to take a breath that you remember where you are, and Rin is staring at you with a look you haven’t seen before. 

Shocked maybe? 

But you don’t think you’ve done anything shocking, until you feel a warm tear roll down your face.

Ah shoot. You’re actually a moron, you’re crying. In front of him.

Come on, raise your hand, wipe away your tears, you’re fine. 

Move your fucking hand.

Move.

Just do something. Don’t just stand there.

You take a breath, wiping away your tears with your hand.

Good. Now speak.

“...” You part your lips shakily to speak. “I–”

A sob escapes your lips and you slap your hand over your mouth and turn away from him, letting the tears just stream down your face.

“Shit.” Rin says softly from behind you, and you distantly think that if you were watching from an outsider's perspective that this would be hilarious.

Okay, stop, calm down, breathe. You’re fine.

You let out another muffled sob as your breathing runs ragged.

Okay, no, you’re not fine.

“(Name).” Rin says, in a tone so soft you’re almost taken by surprise, and you can feel his presence behind you, closer than before.

He places his hand on your shoulder and gently turns you back to face him, and you notice through watery eyes that his water bottle is back on the bench. You’re not sure why you notice that, but you think it's because you can’t stand to make eye contact right now.

“Listen to me.” He murmurs, his voice soft yet firm. “Breathe slowly, in and out, okay?”

Right. You can do that. In and out.

It takes a few breaths, but eventually you manage to get to the point where your breathing is less rapid, and it’s then that you muster the courage to look him in the eyes again.

It’s a small relief to you that you don’t see any judgment in his eyes, just concern.

“...what’s wrong (Name)?”

It takes you a bit to respond, but you’re finally able to speak after you pull your hand from your mouth, looking at his water bottle again.

“...I’m… ashamed.” You say quietly, and the admission feels like you’re being stabbed in the gut.

“Ashamed?” Rin asks, furrowing his brow again. “Why are you ashamed?”

You don’t even want to begin to explain yourself, but you figure you might as well just get it over with. 

“... that girl, she confessed to you. I was jealous– I am jealous, and I feel stupid, because it’s embarrassing and I feel immature.”

He looks at you for a moment, really looks at you and then scoffs. 

“You’re…” He pauses and then looks at you, seemingly thinking better of his words before speaking again with a sigh. “...you’re too harsh on yourself.”

You simply shake your head. “No, it’s dumb, and I was mean to you and I was mean to that girl in my head and I shouldn’t have–”

“Then what about me?” He asks sharply.

“What?” You respond, looking back at him again, confusion taking over.

“I–” He starts before huffing out a breath, his cheeks turning pink as he looks away. “You think I’m any better? At least you have the decency to be ashamed.”

You blink, the quiet settling around you.

Well, thinking on it now, it’s not like you’re the only one who’s like that, you’re no stranger to how Rin methodically practices his skills everyday, the way his eyes narrow into a glare when he sees his brother on screen, how he scoffs at your best friend when she hugs you in greeting… he’s just as bad as you, isn’t he?

Obsessive.

Jealous.

“…we’re so silly, aren’t we?” You ask, breaking the silence between the two of you. “So intense all the time, so needlessly absorbed, too emotional… You’re everything I despise about myself, but I don’t hate you. Aren’t we so strange?”

Rin looks at you finally, a complicated look on his face, flickering through emotions.

“Speak for yourself. I’m perfectly logical.” He eventually retorts.

You actually laugh at that, though it definitely sounds weak and shaky even to your own ears.

“…stupid.” You say with a fond smile. “At least I can be honest with myself.”

You look at him for a moment.

“I like to think I’m good with words, at least when I’m not crying, but there’s so much I want to tell you that I can’t say in the way I want to… what on earth can I say to you?”

Rin looks at you, eyes boring into yours, but you can’t seem to find yourself to be intimidated this time. “Dumbass, you don’t need to say anything.”

You look at him, at his stupidly sweet soul that he tries to hide with harsh words, and let out a soft huff, uncharacteristically frustrated.

“…sometimes I want to hurt you, because you make me feel so much. I could rip you apart.”

Rin’s eyes widen, as if surprised by your words, and briefly you fear that you might have overstepped, before his eyes harden into a steely gaze.

“Idiot… you think you’re the only one who feels that way?”

You blink at his words, not expecting his response, much less how surprisingly honest it is. 

It’s… This is new.

You expect him to recoil from your words, from your emotions, from you. You expect him to leave. But his response, his understanding, it makes you so… emotional.

You take in a shaky breath, tearing up again.

His reaction to that is instantaneous, his eyes widening in shock, a flicker of regret in his gaze. A beat of silence lapses between you two before he speaks, his tone regretful.

“(Name)… I didn’t mean—”

“No.” You say immediately, though your voice is still shaky as you blink harshly.

“Don’t apologize. And don’t take it back.” You speak, your voice cracking. “I’m not scared. You get me, I get you… we’re a mess, but I’ll never find someone like you, and I don’t want to.”

You take a breath to steady yourself, before speaking again. 

“I’m gonna say something, and you don’t have to say it back.” You say, before speaking again, your voice soft but firm. “...I love you.”

You’re not sure what possessed you to say it, those words that have been lurking in you for so long, and you for a moment, seeing his startled face, you wonder if you might have scared him off, if you were moving too fast, or maybe–

“Dumbass.” He says with a soft scoff before cupping your face and pulling you into a kiss.

It’s always so tongue heavy with Rin, and you’ve had to coax him in the past to appreciate a sweet, chaste kiss every once in a while, but you find this time you don’t mind this time as he desperately presses his lips against yours.

It’s his own way of saying it back to you.

[pearlwithgirl]

As the Nightingale Calls

Simon Riley x gn!reader

SFW fluff - 612 words

The first of many tender musings

It’s quiet. The dingy room holds a jarring tranquility, lowering inhibitions, washing away the chaos of the day.

His tongue darts out over dusky pink lips to collect the last of tonight’s ration. Pound cake. 

Vanilla soaked crumbs are cleared from the seam of his mouth and licked away from the jagged line cleaved from nose to neck.

A flash of anger zaps across your visage. It only lasts a moment - his opponent has already paid his price, resting deeply. Communing with roots and fragrant earth. 

Raising a scarred hand to the corner of your mouth, he swipes away a smear of rosy jam. He suckles at the skin of his thumb, savouring the mellow tartness, eyes still glued to your lips.

He raises his gaze to meet yours. The same cogs are turning, the same thoughts being mulled over in your own brain.

Should you give in to the insistent tug?

The well-established, scarcely-acknowledged tether between yourselves?

Certainly not. It’s ill-advised, a dangerous game rife with bureaucratic hurdles and the looming threat of eternal separation.

Will you do it anyway?

The answer lies somewhere just below the surface. You are drawn to chase it, to dig calloused fingers into the damaged terrain and nick yourself on colluvial shards in pursuit of the warm loam below. To have your wounds licked clean by your Herculean comrade.

Your breaths are shallow, catching on a sharp, long-held craving. The scene lulls on, wordless.

He leans in.

You meet him in the middle, eyes fluttering shut, lips brushing softly, heads spinning in tandem. 

Over and over, chapped lips unite, tongues lick and flick. 

Sugary confection and tobacco. 

The moment drips, saccharine, pasted by sticky sweetness onto the surface of your mind - it’s placed in a special spot reserved for the most treasured relics. 

It wafts its way through you, filling hollows you’ve long kept barren. It yellows the walls - not in a shade of sickly flax, no. It’s sunny and safe and warm. 

You share the same breath, the same need, the same profound emotions - it’s nearly overwhelming.

*Nearly* - but it’s just right. A resounding equilibrium come to fruition.

It makes you shiver, stuttering exhalations and soft sighs proclaiming feelings unspoken.

You don’t part for lack of want or gratification, but you do need to breathe at some point.

Camouflaged lids open. He blinks slowly back at you in a shade of soft amber, gaze cutting right through the fog, radiant beacons in a sea of blotchy noir.

Again, you sense the same thoughts racing through his mind - it’s like peering into a looking glass. You’re used to constant risks and uncertainties - it’s a fickle life, but tonight? You have no doubts. 

You can feel it in the feather-light graze of his broad hands, glean it from the sprawling wingspan that enfolds you, drawing you impossibly close. 

The longing to flee an albatrossean curse, deserting the inky eye masks, the storms, the psychological burdens. 

You’d like to slip the plumage and slither between battered ribs, finding rest under a comfortable thrum, steady and strong.

A nightingale calls out in the dark. It’s a welcome accompaniment to a tender, glowing moment, but it barely breaches the fringes of your mind. 

Though tomorrow will be another story, nothing beyond this room is more pressing than the languid sequence playing out, the gentle knock of his forehead on yours, the soft glow of a tender revelation. 

You bask in it, growing pliant, baring your throat to beckon gnashing teeth over a delicate pulse point.

You aren’t afraid - they won’t hurt. Blunted solely for you, worn down by shared time, trust, and trauma.

He leans in again. 

You will.

[theharrowing]

Showstopper 📸 2: The rumors really are true

Hoseok knows the rumors.

Everyone in the industry knows the rumors.

Min Yoongi is a player. Min Yoongi is a snake. Stand in front of Min Yoongi’s camera, and you will be just another one of his victims – prey for him to use as he pleases and toss away when he gets bored.

📸 Hoseok x Yoongi

📸 word count: 17.8k

📸 strangers to lovers, model & photographer au, angst, smut, fluff, slash, nsfw, 18+

📸 warnings: thick thick tension; a bit of jealousy; inappropriate boss to employee conduct; Hoseok in a merkin; explicit mentions of sex; mention of giving & receiving a handjob with a stranger in a bathroom stall; a kiss; angst!!!; bestie Jimin is chaos in human form; Namjoon is both a kind friend and a snitch and we love that for him; Yoongi is bi/pan.

📸 notes: HI WOW I DID NOT MEAN TO LET A FULL YEAR PASS BEFORE UPDATING THIS FIC!!! i actually really love this one and i am sad that it took me so long to return, but i am back here, with 2 more chapters in the works!!! also, i don't know anything about modeling contracts & everything is made up!!! please have fun!!!

📸 written for the BTS Found Fest!

📸 thanks to @neoneunnajimin for beta reading.

📸 posted jan. 2024 | read on ao3

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For a week and a half, Hoseok's life is a whirlwind of photoshoots and wardrobe fittings. He rubs shoulders with some of the biggest names in the industry and overhears talk of making him the face of a jewelry or perfume line. Seemingly everyone fawns over Hoseok, gathers around the monitor to look at proofs, and praises him for his work. 

"You make it look effortless," he hears a lot, "like you were born to do this."

Show-stopping, Hoseok thinks, mind always returning to the booth at the pizzeria, to the soft but insistent look in Yoongi's eyes, over which a wild mess of dark brown waves hung. And to the car ride home after that shoot in his home studio, to the gentle way Yoongi squeezed his knee. 

During the week and a half, Hoseok sees Yoongi daily, and he does his best to appear unaffected by Yoongi's sleepy appearance swaddled in layer upon layer of dark clothing. Despite looking soft, Yoongi is stern and cold at work, which Hoseok has to adjust to at first. 

But there are glances and compliments thrown Hoseok's way that are warm and full of depth, and he clings to those like a lifeline. He finds he is always waiting for the day to come when they have a remote shoot that Yoongi drives him home from, or another meeting over dinner, or, if he is really lucky, another shoot in Yoongi's home studio. 

After an intense week and a half that has Hoseok feeling as exhausted as he feels hopeful, on a sunny Saturday morning, Hoseok wakes to find a text message that fills him with as much excitement as it does worry. 

Magic Min Are you free for lunch? There are some potential contractual items that I would like to discuss with you.  

Hoseok scoffs at potential contractual items, rolling his eyes at how Yoongi always seems so stuffy over text. He wonders if Yoongi would ever be the type to send an emoji if they were to become that close, then feels his cheeks warm at the wayward thought, laughing it away almost as quickly as it arrived. 

If they were to become close...Hoseok knows that one does not simply become close to a man like Yoongi. Even Namjoon, who seems to be Yoongi's closest confidant – daresay his friend – is responded to in simple grumbles and shrugs more often than not. 

But still, Hoseok likes to imagine it. His soft, gummy smile; his deep, contemplative eyes; the way his hands leave behind a trail of warmth wherever they touch, lingering and making impressions for Hoseok to trace over and over again later. If only those impressions were more tangible, like a soft press of lips, a bruise sucked into skin, scratches of blunt fingernails leaving behind welts, and, god forbid, drawing tiny droplets of blood.

A shiver runs down Hoseok's back, and he shakes his head before slapping himself on the cheek twice, forcing his wandering mind back to earth. He lets out a deep huff of air that had sat trapped in his lungs. 

He really needs to get laid if this is how he reacts to seeing a very cold business-only text message from a man he hardly knows. Even if that man happens to be soft and pretty as a petal and calls him show-stopping.

With another stern slap to his cheek, Hoseok clears his throat and types out a response—

Hoseok Sure. When and where, boss?

—and then throws his bright orange and yellow comforter to the side in a rush as he bolts into the bathroom to shower and begin his skincare routine, eager to put his best face forward. 

Hoseok speeds through his routine but takes care not to skip any steps, then he rushes back to his abandoned phone, relieved to find Yoongi's response only came in seven minutes ago. 

Magic Min Craving burgers. There's a spot not too far from you if that sounds good.

Attached is a link to a burger joint that Hoseok has been to several times over the years, and he smiles to himself as he realizes he will be meeting Yoongi again. Yoongi, who he has seen every day since Monday, and nearly every day the week prior, with the exception of last Saturday and Sunday. 

Hoseok Ah, I know that spot! Sounds great.

Hoseok clicks off the screen of his phone and squeezes the device tight in his palm, considering what kind of outfit would be best for such an outing. He is surprised when it takes less than a minute for a response to come in and bites his lip as he reads it over.

Magic Min Great. Is noon good? Or do you need more time to fuss over what to wear?

Ah, there it is, the classic Min Asshole charm. Hoseok had nearly forgotten about just how obnoxious Yoongi can be, and he rolls his eyes at how he always knows just what to say to get under his skin. The man does have a point, though; does Hoseok have enough time to fuss over what to wear?

A glance at the clock shows it is just after 10 am, and Hoseok sighs with relief. Thanks to his early shoots, he has grown accustomed to waking up earlier than usual. 

He even went so far as to ignore his friends last night when they insisted he join them at the club, feeling exhausted from a busy week. He likes to think of this as his glow-up era; a time for him to grow and mature, and not wake up all puffy and depressed from a hangover. Frankly, his friends could learn a thing or two from him. 

Hoseok Noon works just fine, thank you very much. And no need to send your goon to pick me up. I'll walk. 

This time, when Hoseok spins away from his bed, he brings his phone with him, eager for another response despite knowing that in under two hours, he will be seated across from the man at another wooden booth. 

He gazes wistfully at his closet, trying to come up with the perfect game plan while being wholly distracted by the thought that, at any moment, his phone will buzz to life with a new notification. When it does, Hoseok gasps happily and wastes no time opening the message.

Magic Min Goon? I'm telling Seokjin-hyung you said that. 

Hoseok Please, I'm not afraid of him. 

Magic Min You should be. 

With a coy bite of his lip that tugs into a smile, Hoseok watches Yoongi's response come quickly, and then he sets his phone down, deciding he has work to do and that he cannot allow a man to distract him. 

Time flies when he is having fun, and after an exciting hour of pulling shirts and jeans from hangers to hold in front of himself in the mirror, he finally gets dressed in a white tee tucked into distressed blue jeans with a black bomber jacket on top that has a pretty watercolor flower pattern of deep pinks and bright greens. 

He applies a little makeup to accentuate his eyes and lips, then uses a little product to style his hair in a way that suggests it is, in fact, unstyled. Simple. Tasteful. Perfect. 

By 11:30, Hoseok is antsy and begins to circle around his place, unsure whether or not this outfit calls for a purse and slinging several over his shoulder before deciding the added weight just heightens his anxiety. His jacket pockets are accommodating enough for his phone, wallet, keys, and lip balm, so he shoves everything where it belongs and searches the restaurant to find out how long it will take him to walk, nearly shouting with excitement that it is twenty minutes away and that his misery will soon be over. 

Hoseok slides his feet into and kicks his feet out of several pairs of white sneakers before deciding to wear the first pair he tried on, then checks his phone to see that it is 11:36. Close enough, he decides, as he shoots Yoongi a text and heads out the door. 

Hoseok Be there in 20!

As Hoseok makes his way through the hallway of his building, down the short flight of steps, and out into the warm, late morning air, his heart begins to pick up to a more excited pace. Whereas before he was antsy about leaving, now he feels nervous about arriving. 

He knows he has nothing to worry about, but there is such an aura to Yoongi that feels stifling at times, especially when Hoseok walks into a room unsure of which version of the man to expect. Will he be cold or warm?

When Hoseok's phone buzzes, he is a little surprised to receive a response. Yoongi is definitely better than average as far as communicators go, but Hoseok assumes he will be there early anyway, waiting in a booth that is tucked away in a corner. 

Magic Min I should arrive first, but if not, save us a booth, please, and thank you.

With a soft smile, Hoseok takes pride in how well he was able to predict Yoongi's actions and sends a thumbs-up emoji in response before tucking his phone back into his pocket and fishing out his lip balm. 

His lips are certainly not in need of being balmed, but there is a sharp chill to the breeze, making him feel self-conscious about them becoming dry. Or, perhaps, he just needs something to fidget with for a few moments. 

The walk to the restaurant is quick, taking Hoseok past several bars and cafes he was a regular at while in college. He misses the cozy, grimy atmosphere of certain dives, but this area is usually so packed with students that it tends to result in long lines and unnecessary drama. In the middle of the day, this stretch of businesses tends to be less chaotic, and Hoseok is relieved to find the street in front of the burger spot is mostly empty, save for a familiar black sedan. 

The pep in Hoseok's step trips him up once his right leg hesitates to move forward for a second just split enough to throw his rhythm off, and his palms tingle as the door to the sedan opens to the sidewalk and a familiar mess of dark hair appears from behind it. Yoongi stands with the door ajar and rests his arm on the top edge of it as Hoseok approaches, giving a smile warmer than anything Hoseok could expect, stirring butterflies to take flight in his stomach. 

Then Hoseok's gaze drifts to the driver's side where, through the windshield, he sees Seokjin give a playful snarl before opening his door and standing tall in a clear attempt to be intimidating. 

"Yah!" Seokjin yells, nodding his chin to Hoseok, who approaches and stops beside the front passenger tire, keeping his eyes on Seokjin despite feeling Yoongi's gaze burning into him. "Yoongichi says you called me a goon!"

At this, Hoseok raises his eyebrows and turns his attention to Yoongi, doing his best not to absolutely swoon at the sight of him as he shouts, "Did he?" in response. 

Yoongi mirrors his eyebrow raise and shrugs, giving Hoseok a smile far too playful for his heart to handle, and drawls, "I told you I would."

Turning back to Seokjin, Hoseok responds, "Well, you do come to his beck and call. And you drove him here today! Very goon-like behavior if you ask me."

Seokjin gives an incredulous shake of his head and begins shouting in a rapid succession of syllables, "Yah, Hoseokah, just because you have neither the class nor income to require an assistant—" 

But Yoongi clears his throat, cutting Seokjin off with a raspy, "That's enough," with a fond smile as he steps away from the vehicle to close the door. 

"This isn't finished, Hoseokah!" Seokjin shouts before getting back into his vehicle, and Hoseok shoots him an okay hand sign while mouthing the word before swallowing thickly and turning his attention entirely to Yoongi. 

"I told you to be afraid," Yoongi chides, and Hoseok feels his cheeks warm.

"What could he do?" he asks, fidgeting his hands in front of him while attempting to keep his voice level and cool. "I'm sure he's all talk."

Yoongi stands with his arms crossed over his chest, wearing a navy blue knit sweater with a neckline and bottom hem that appear fashionably distressed. Hobo-chic, as Hoseok likes to call it. 

Despite wearing loose-fit light denim jeans—cuffed at the ankle over a pair of navy and tan Nikes—Hoseok's eyes fall immediately to his ass the moment Yoongi turns to enter the restaurant, and he thanks his lucky stars that the sweater is loose enough cut to at least partially cover him. 

Sadly, Hoseok thinks, a butt like that is never fully concealable, and he lets out a sad sigh, lamenting over the knowledge that under all that material, Yoongi's gluteus maximus truly is maximus to the highest degree. 

It takes a moment for Hoseok to realize Yoongi is holding the door open for him, and when he lifts his gaze to find him with his arm outstretched, looking at Hoseok over his shoulder with a squint in his eyes, Hoseok clears his throat, blinks heavily and mutters, "S-sorry, your hem is weird...I was trying to figure it out."

Yoongi responds with a noncommittal hum at turns, entering the restaurant and releasing the door, which Hoseok quickly steps past as he rubs his clammy palms against his denim pants and attempts to get his head on right. He cannot be sexualizing his boss, especially when this same boss has a reputation for being a player. Getting wrapped up in a guy like Yoongi – more than he already is – is a bad idea. He knows it is a bad idea. 

The restaurant is busier than Hoseok expected, and Yoongi leads him back to a booth in the far left corner. Although Hoseok appreciates his penchant for getting as far away from other humans as possible, it does cause his nerves to spike knowing that the two of them will be more or less secluded once again. While at work, there have been so many other people around that Hoseok has not had a moment alone with Yoongi since the time in his home studio almost two weeks ago. 

"The reason I asked you to join me here," Yoongi begins before Hoseok has a chance to settle into the wooden seat, sliding to the center while watching Yoongi thumb through his phone, appearing bored, "is because I have already been getting campaign offers for you, but you do not have an agent on file."

"Ah," Hoseok responds, grabbing the menu despite already knowing what he plans to order so he can space out while looking down at it rather than up at Yoongi. When he affirms, "I do not have an agent," his voice betrays him, coming out a bit more meekly than he would like. 

"Well, for the time being, I can act as one for you," Yoongi offers as if it is nothing, making Hoseok glance up with a start to find Yoongi's eyes on him with his phone cradled in both hands. "I'm familiar with campaign managers. They would be showing in my magazine anyway, so I would still be leading the shoots. It cuts out a middleman and makes everything far more efficient for both of us. And, you would make more money."

"More...mon—" Hoseok's lips feel stuck in place as Yoongi responds to his inquiry before he has a chance to completely voice it. 

"Well, I certainly would not take a cut for acting as an agent. I already make enough from your pretty face as is."

The words pretty face ricochet around Hoseok's brain, and he nods shallowly while his vision goes foggy, turning Yoongi into a beige, black, and navy-colored blob while he attempts to wrap his head around the offer. Taking on high-end brands is the dream, and Yoongi presenting the prospect as if it is the easiest thing in the world has his mind racing.

"Which company?" Hoseok asks once he finally has his wits about him, and he blinks Yoongi back into view to watch his stern face become soft with a smile. 

Yoongi opens his mouth to respond just as a server approaches, and Hoseok is so focused on the words he never says that the appearance of another person makes him startle and swear under his breath. 

Through a chuckle, Yoongi orders the two of them beer, then asks Hoseok if he needs a moment to look at the menu, smiling when Hoseok shakes his head and mutters, "Nah, I know what I would like," and orders his usual double cheeseburger and fries.

As the server leaves, Hoseok takes a fortifying breath in the hope of returning to the conversation at hand, but he feels strangely out of it, spacing out at the wooden table between him and Yoongi.

"Dior," Yoongi says, and Hoseok gasps as he looks up, searching Yoongi's face for a hint that he might be joking. This would certainly be a horrible joke, but Hoseok is still not sure he has Yoongi's sense of humor figured out. 

Instead, when Yoongi does nothing but watch him squirm, he responds, "Be serious," with a frown.

"I am serious," Yoongi responds. "Men's wear and cologne. They want you in the front, center, and back of my magazine modeling their products."

The highest paying positions in a magazine – the money shots, as he and the boys call them. Dior wants Hoseok to model the money shots for them.

"This feels fake," Hoseok mutters, finding it absolutely impossible to wrap his mind around. Sure, he is a stunning man who works hard for his craft, and yes, he did manage to get one of the most important fashion magazines in the country to want to work with him...but Dior?

"What did I tell you?" Yoongi asks with a slight frown, leaning forward with his elbows against the table. 

Instinctively, Hoseok sits back, creating as much distance between the two of them as possible. Yoongi continues to watch him silently and patiently, and Hoseok begins feeling embarrassed to be under such a scrutinous gaze. 

"With you, I can be great," Hoseok mutters, knowing he is selling himself short even now, unsure why he finds it so hard to be excited about his dream beginning to come true.

"Show-stopping," Yoongi corrects as he raises his brow. "You will be great. Better than great."

The server sets down two dark beers, and Yoongi presses one toward Hoseok before taking his own and having a drink. It tastes similar to the beer they had at the pizzeria – malty and just a bit hoppy – and Hoseok finally finds a small smile gracing his lips as Yoongi's words begin to fully sink in.

"Dior," He says with his lips pressed against the chilled rim of his pint glass. 

"Dior," Yoongi confirms, and this time, when Hoseok meets his eye, he cannot help but feel a burst of affection behind his ribs. 

As he takes another drink from his glass, Yoongi's eyes stay on him as if he is eager for a confirmation of some kind, with his expression hard to read, save for a glimmer in his eyes. 

"How does a company like Dior know I exist?" Hoseok blurts. 

"I submitted some samples to them," Yoongi responds with a shrug, making Hoseok's eyes widen; he cannot believe Yoongi would do something like that for him.

"But…why?" he asks over the rim of his beer glass.

Yoongi tilts his head slightly, eyes drifting from left to right over Hoseok's face. "Are you so shocked that I would see something in you that Dior might want?"

Truthfully, no. Hoseok knows he has talent and can look the part for Dior. Perhaps he is just surprised that Yoongi would extend this type of kindness to one of his models. 

"No," he admits, watching as the edges of Yoongi's mouth rise. "Not shocked about that, just surprised that you went out of your way to submit samples. My cover hasn't even gone to print."

"And yet they chomped at the bit," Yoongi mutters with a smirk.

If Dior sees something in Hoseok, he knows he would be a fool not to accept. Especially if Yoongi seems to have an in with them.

"Alright," Hoseok says, setting his glass on the table and nodding his head. He holds out a hand, which Yoongi glances down at before slowly raising his own, only grabbing onto it when he says, "We have a deal, boss."

"Well," Yoongi adds with a chuckle while allowing Hoseok to emphatically shake his large, warm hand, "we don't have a deal yet; we need to discuss the actual contract. But I am glad that you are so excited."

Hoseok releases the handshake with a nervous chuckle and returns to gripping onto his chilled beer glass with both hands. Meanwhile, Yoongi lifts his phone and begins going over a contract, explaining the terms to Hoseok. The food is dropped off mid-conversation, and Yoongi mutters, 

"I'll send a copy to you, and tomorrow you can come by and sign it if you have time?"

Tomorrow. Dior wants to sign him, Yoongi wants to see him again tomorrow, and Hoseok stares at his food while his heart thumps happily in his chest.

* * *

The night is a blur of alcohol and grinding against the hot, sweaty bodies of his friends. Hoseok does not tell the others why he is celebrating, not wanting to jinx things.

But he does whisper to Jimin while on the dance floor that there is talk of a pretty big offer and that tomorrow, he and Yoongi will be going over the contract to finalize details. And then, from there, everything fades to black. 

Hoseok wakes up feeling exhausted and stretches his limbs with a deep groan. Try as he might to remember what else happened the night before, he falls short. He was talking to Jimin about Yoongi, and then...? 

A jolt of anxiety works its way through Hoseok as he worries he may have said too much about Yoongi. He rubs his palms over his eyes in embarrassment as he reaches for his phone to check his notifications. Thankfully, there is nothing but a message from Jimin that does not seem to suggest Hoseok said too much, although it does suggest that he did say something.

Jimin Don't forget, we agreed that you would wear something slutty to his studio today!!!

A pact between Hoseok and Jimin to wear something slutty could mean that Hoseok has confessed his feelings for Yoongi – especially for Yoongi's ass. But it could also be a completely innocuous, everyday occurrence. And there really is no way to know without finding out. 

With a deep, fortifying sigh, Hoseok gets to work.

Hoseok And was this slutty pact apropos of anything, or just something we decided on for shits and giggs?

It takes approximately ten seconds for Hoseok's phone to begin ringing with a video call, and he rolls his eyes, runs a hand through his hair, and sits back against the wall, holding the device at a flattering, high angle. He does not have a chance to say one word before Jimin's voice is booming through the speaker, matching the wide expression on his face. 

"You silly whore!"

Hoseok clears his throat as he responds, "Good day to you too, sir."

"Do you really not remember the conversation we had last night about Magic Min and his big, pretty hands?"

With a scoff, Hoseok feels affronted, mostly by his own drunken loose lips, and he presses a palm to his chest and gasps. Jimin cracks up laughing, then opens his mouth to say more before Hoseok cuts him off, feeling a sudden surge of paranoia.

"Wait! Scan around the room so I can make sure nobody is there."

With a huff, Jimin complies, muttering under his breath about how he thought they were best friends, but apparently, Hoseok does not trust him. Jimin's room is bright and floral, with clothing draped over absolutely every surface, and Hoseok is pleased to find that there are no other men in the room to overhear them.

"What did I say, exactly?" Hoseok asks with a raise of his eyebrows.

"Wow," Jimin laughs, shaking his head, "you really did black out, huh?"

With a groan, Hoseok grows impatient, and he raises his eyebrows, urging the other to go on. 

"Alright, alright," Jimin concedes with a huff, laying flat on his back with his phone held in the air, pink hair fanned around his sleepy doll face. "You mostly muttered about his hands and his ass, and said you wanted to shoot your shot."

"Oh god," Hoseok grumbles, feeling embarrassed and letting his arm drop to a less flattering angle. "Did Jeongguk overhear me?"

Jimin rolls his eyes and laughs. "No. Jeongguk and Taehyung were sucking each others faces all fucking night, they did not overhear a single thing any person in the entire club had to say."

Hoseok senses a bitterness in Jimin's tone but chooses to ignore it, pressing on. "And then what? Is that really all I said?" 

"Yes!" Jimin insists, opening his eyes wide and angry. "You waxed poetic about his round little ass for like an hour. It was honestly too much. Too much! You need to get laid, preferably by him; I never want to hear about it again."

"Alright, alright," Hoseok grumbles, pouting and feigning offense. "Sorry for confiding in my best friend. I'll just find some other pretty twink to pour my heart out to."

Jimin sticks his tongue out and opens his mouth to respond, but a text notification from Yoongi pops down, and Hoseok stammers, "Sh-shit, he's texting me, gotta go!" and ends the call to the sight of Jimin looking as if he is ready to start yelling. 

Hoseok sits up straight, runs a hand through his hair as if to make himself presentable, and swallows thickly as he opens the message. 

Magic Min If you are available to go over the contract today, when might be a good time to send my goon to come pick you up?

Hoseok checks the time, relieved that it is only 10 am, and shoots off a quick text as he fumbles to get his feet untangled from his comforter.  

Hoseok I'm free any time after 12.

The jostling around makes Hoseok feel nauseated the moment he stands, and he wobbles on his feet, letting his butt hit the mattress while he attempts to breathe through the hangover-induced vertigo. After a grueling handful of seconds, he trudges forward to the shower and begins his routine, leaving his phone behind. 

Hoseok sits on the floor of the shower while water that is just slightly too hot for comfort beats down at him. He hugs his knees to his chest and rests his chin in the dip between them while attempting to weigh his options in a reasonable, mature manner. 

Already, he is falling for Yoongi's charm – there is no doubt about that. But if the man is going to be acting as his manager for the Dior shoots, there is absolutely no way he can encourage anything to happen between them. 

Although they are going to be signing a contract, it still feels too risky to allow Yoongi to have any more power over him than he may already have. Say Hoseok develops feelings for him, and Yoongi finds it to be some sort of weak spot that Hoseok has, making him vulnerable and easy to use. Hoseok could lose everything. 

After enough deliberation and spacing out, Hoseok shampoos his hair while remaining on the floor, then he begrudgingly gets to his feet – feeling incredibly woozy in the process and clinging onto the wet white tiled wall. He washes and rinses his body as best as he can, then gets out, shivering as he wraps a fluffy towel around his shoulders.

Hoseok towel dries his hair and body, then walks out into his bedroom in the nude, weighing his options. He could still dress slutty just to see where he might stand with the man, but even then…knowing could be too dangerous. It is probably in his best interest to dress casual – but still cute – and keep all of his impure thoughts about large, veiny hands and a perfectly round butt at bay. 

Before deciding on an outfit, Hoseok returns to his bed to check his phone. And although he is pleased to find a response from the man himself, he is a little disappointed by the message. 

Magic Min How about 3? I have a prior engagement this morning, but I can be ready to sit down with you then. 

Three is still several hours away, and Hoseok flings himself down onto his bed with an indignant sigh and groans. Sure, he has plenty of ways to spend his time between now and then, but the anticipation is going to eat away at his insides. He is far too eager to see Yoongi again. 

He supposes he could get dressed and go down to his favorite cafe for a nice greasy egg sandwich and attempt to work on his hangover, in the meantime. And if he dresses a little slutty for his errand and ends up wearing the same outfit to meet Yoongi later, that is his own business. 

Hoseok 3 sounds perfect, boss!

* * *

At 3 pm sharp, Hoseok receives a text message from the number he has affectionately saved in his contacts as Goon Squad, letting him know that his car has arrived. Hoseok shoots back a thumbs-up emoji, then slides his feet into black chelsea boots, checks his hair in a mirror beside the front door, pats down his pockets, and – with a spritz of Armani Code for women – does a twirl and heads out. 

He has opted for a similar outfit as the one he wore yesterday, but this white tee is stretched at the neck and hangs off one side, showing his clavicle. His tight blue jeans are ripped, and he wears a black leather belt and a thin black choker, completing the look with a black denim jacket. 

When Hoseok gets out to the sidewalk, he is pleased to find his favorite goon Seokjin parked at the curb in a familiar black sedan. As soon as he opens the passenger door, Seokjin tuts his tongue, making Hoseok laugh. 

"Yah, no speaking to me," Seokjin snorts, holding up his palm as if to deflect Hoseok's greeting.

Hoseok gives the presented palm a high-five, chuckling to himself as Seokjin gasps, and then he settles in and buckles his seatbelt. Without another word, they take off down the street, making it exactly one and a half blocks before Seokjin starts conversation. 

"Yoongichi tells me you're being pursued by Dior."

Hoseok turns to Seokjin with his lips sealed tight and waits for the man to turn to him impatiently before raising his eyebrows. 

Exasperated, Seokjin sighs, "You may speak," while waving his hand in a circle in Hoseok's general direction. 

"Yup!" Hoseok chirps happily, flashing a wide smile that Seokjin clearly finds aggravating. 

Seokjin looks between Hoseok and the road several times, shouting, "What? That's all you have to say for yourself?"

With a shrug, Hoseok turns his attention out the window, watching as the buildings along the street become more expensive. "There's not much else to say." As Yoongi's apartment building comes into view, he adds, "I'm excited." 

"Well, good," Seokjin responds with just a hint of insistence. "You should be excited. Yoongi is extremely picky about who gets those top ad spots, but I had no doubt it could be you."

Although Hoseok's heart pounds, both from the weight of Seokjin's words and the proximity to Yoongi's apartment, he keeps his voice as calm as he can while crooning, "Awe, you're just saying that to butter me up."

Seokjin gasps, affronted, making Hoseok giggle as he shouts, "I butter up no man!"

"Sure," Hoseok responds, doing his best to sound unconvinced. 

As they pull to the curb, Seokjin sits back in his seat and waits for Hoseok to exit. "I trust you know the way," he chirps when Hoseok makes no move to get out.

Hoseok unfastens his belt and opens the door unceremoniously, offering Seokjin a wave of his hand but saying nothing. His palms are prickling with sweat, and he is more than a little anxious about seeing Yoongi again. 

He also has no idea whether he should alert Yoongi to his arrival or if Seokjin has, but he shuffles through the entrance and toward the elevator, reaching for his pocket to retrieve his phone to send a text. 

Right on time, the elevator doors slide open, and Hoseok glances up to find Yoongi standing with one arm crossed over his chest and the other holding his phone, which he is looking down at. Hoseok hesitates long enough for Yoongi to glance up and raise his eyebrows.

He stumbles forward, struggling to pick up his feet fast enough, hoping Yoongi does not notice. If it were not for the very gentle tug of the corner of Yoongi's mouth, which Hoseok spots just as he enters the elevator, he would think his little flub had gone undetected. 

"Nervous?" Yoongi asks softly, almost invitingly, sending a chill along Hoseok's spine.

"I guess so," Hoseok admits; no use in trying to play it cool when his career is being discussed. 

It is not as if Yoongi is unused to these types of conversations with models, although Hoseok does wonder how many of them Yoongi has acted as an agent for. Now that he is standing in the elevator – the door of which is sliding open on the fourth floor – Hoseok wonders if he has made a mistake. 

Yoongi presented the idea as if it was the simplest thing in the world, but could Hoseok be giving this man too much power? Should he have done some research to find out how to be prepared for a situation like this?

Yoongi exits the elevator first and punches a number on the keypad to unlock his studio, then he steps inside, holding the door with the tips of three fingers. Hoseok follows behind, silently taking in a deep breath of the musk that hangs around the room, eyes lingering on Yoongi's fingers as they brush away from the edge of the door and drop. 

Once inside, Hoseok kicks out of his sneakers and robotically walks toward the couch, where Yoongi has set a stack of papers and a glass of water on the table before it. He shrugs out of his leather jacket and drapes it over his arm, hugging it tightly to his tummy.

"Would you like something to drink?" Yoongi offers, veering off toward the kitchen. 

"Water is fine," Hoseok calls back, walking past where everything is set, so Yoongi can sit there.

The leather cushion whines under Hoseok's weight as he sits, and he scoots forward, knees tilted in toward the empty spot where he assumes Yoongi will sit, with his hands resting on his thighs. He places his jacket to the side, bunched up against the cushion.

Yoongi approaches and sits where Hoseok expected he would, also scooting forward on the edge, somewhat stiffly, like he is regretting having sat at all. He leans to set the glass of water in front of Hoseok, and Hoseok instinctively leans away. 

"The contract is pretty simple," Yoongi drawls, sounding tired. "Please take all the time you need to read it over if you have not done so already. We have lawyers on standby if you would like for me to get anyone on the phone, but this contract does not differ much from the one you have already signed with me. When you are ready, come knock on the studio door and we will continue to discuss what comes next."

"Oh," Hoseok mutters, somewhat disappointed that Yoongi is going to leave the room. "Okay. Sounds good."

With a sigh, Yoongi places his hands on his knees, stands, and walks off toward the studio. Hoseok follows his movements, noting the very simple attire of a black tee tucked into black athletic pants with white stripes on the sides. 

He is surprised to see Yoongi so dressed down and wonders what kind of prior engagement he might have had before this meeting. He wonders if Yoongi is dating someone; could they be upstairs in his apartment right now? Something like envy swirls in his insides, and he decides he needs to stop thinking about this. 

Hoseok reaches for the glass, letting the cool condensation on the outside cover his palm and pull him back to earth. The water is cold as it goes down, making Hoseok shiver, and he has a nice big gulp of it before setting it back onto the table. 

With a deep, fortifying breath, he unceremoniously wipes his palm onto his pant leg, then reaches for the contract. And he does his best to read through it – he really does. But he is distracted by Yoongi's proximity, even from the other room, and he keeps catching his thoughts drifting back to the man dressed down in black, wondering what he might be working on in his studio. 

From what he can tell, there is nothing that gives Yoongi any more power or money; although Yoongi is stated as his representative, nothing changes in terms of how much decision-making power he has, as he still has full control over what does and does not make it into the magazine, and he remains the lead photographer. All of these are already stipulations for Hoseok working at the magazine in the first place.

No cuts or shares of Hoseok's profits will make it to Yoongi's pockets – he sees the word entitled a lot, referring to his own earnings – and if Hoseok is unhappy with the Dior campaigns, he has the right to sit down with Yoongi and the Dior team and discuss his desires, including but not limited to backing out of the contract. It seems – if he is reading correctly – that he really has nothing to lose. 

Hoseok wonders if he should sign the document before realizing Yoongi had never left him with a pen. So, he gets up with a quiet sigh – contract in hand – and walks toward the studio. Anxiety rises with each step, and he knocks on the partially open door, then peeks his head inside. 

Yoongi sits leaning back with his eyes closed, hands resting between the back of his head and the seatback of the chair. It takes him just a moment to open his eyes, notice Hoseok, and slowly sit forward. Hoseok makes note of how surprisingly toned Yoongi's upper arms are before they slowly drop down to his sides, and how pretty he looks with his eyes closed and face completely relaxed. 

"Come on in," Yoongi says as he reaches forward and clicks a button that shuts off his monitor, causing the faint white glow of the screen to go out. The lighting in this room is dim, made more so by the absence of that light, with only a gold glow from a deskside lamp to fill this space consisting of a black ceiling, floor, and walls.

"Everything looks fine," Hoseok says as he steps slowly through the room, doing his best not to clench the contract in his hand, wondering why he feels so tense.

"Good to hear," Yoongi responds, standing from his chair. 

Yoongi reaches for the document, which Hoseok hands over, and he sets it down, leaning his left hand against the desk. Hoseok's eyes trace the veins in Yoongi's arm as he turns to the last page, finds a pen sitting uncapped and ready on his desk, then signs and dates it. 

"I get no shares or profits; you are entitled to everything you make," Yoongi says as he uses his fingertips pressed to the center of the papers to spin them so they face Hoseok. "And, I am sure you noticed, there is a clause in this contract that gives us the right to break it without consequence. This is simply a formation to provide a document stating my agency over you during these shoots."

"Thank you," Hoseok mutters as he gently takes the pen from Yoongi and signs and dates the contract. 

Yoongi stands hunched over the desk with his palms planted firmly against it, and when Hoseok looks up from signing, their heads are surprisingly close together. Hoseok's eyes drift down to Yoongi's lips for only a blink of a second, then he meets his eye and gives a soft smile. 

"Now what?" Hoseok asks. 

He feels like he should stand up straight or take a step back – anything to lessen the tension that hangs thick and inviting the longer he and Yoongi hover in this proximity. The dewy, soft musk that emits from Yoongi is intoxicating, and Hoseok takes a slow, silent inhale, filling his chest with it. 

Yoongi smiles, rolls his shoulders back, and stands up straight, much to Hoseok's chagrin – though he knows it is for the best. 

"Celebrate?" Yoongi suggests, raising an eyebrow. 

"Celebrate, how?" Hoseok asks as he stands up straight, heart pounding. 

Yoongi shrugs. "I should have a bottle of champagne in my apartment. Shall we?"

"Oh, s-sure," Hoseok stammers as Yoongi begins to walk past him toward the door. The prospect of seeing Yoongi's apartment has Hoseok feeling excited and far more nervous than signing the contract could have. 

Yoongi exits the studio and hovers around the door, closing it once Hoseok has walked through. Then he motions to the couch and says, "I'll be right back," walking toward the front door. 

Although he has absolutely no reason to feel disappointed that Yoongi is not inviting him up, his tummy stirs nauseatingly. Yoongi has invited him up before, so why is now any different?

With a nod and a very forced smile, Hoseok makes his way over to the couch and plops down. As soon as the front door clicks shut, Hoseok lets out a deep sigh and rests his head back, closing his eyes in an attempt to get his wits about him. 

Pining over Yoongi is of no use, especially now that the man is contractually bound to him as an agent, at least through the duration of the Dior shoots. For all he knows, it could only take them a week or two before everything is shot and ready. But it could also take months. Either way, he can manage to keep it in his pants that long; it is not as if Yoongi has ever made a move on him. 

He even questions whether he has feelings for Yoongi at all or if Yoongi's past tryst with Jeongguk makes him want to dip his toe into the pool out of spite for his friend. He has always been the competitive type; perhaps thinking he could get more from Yoongi makes him want to see just how far he could go. Hoseok knows he needs to knock off this line of thinking.

It does not take long for Yoongi to return, and by the time he does, Hoseok has already convinced himself to stop thinking about him so fondly. Just because Yoongi is handsome, and has a deep voice, and is insanely wealthy, and is the head of a very popular magazine, does not mean Hoseok should get his panties in a twist whenever the man smiles at him. Frankly, Hoseok tells himself in a very stern inner voice, it is embarrassing behavior. 

When Yoongi enters the flat clutching a bottle of champagne in his fist, his hair is tousled – messier than when he left. Hoseok does his best not to overthink it, but the way his waves frame his pretty face is distracting. Yoongi merely smiles as he enters and walks to the kitchen. 

"Join me over here?" Yoongi calls, causing Hoseok to tense and look over his shoulder. "In case popping this open makes a mess."

"Sure," Hoseok says under his breath as he stands and pads over to the kitchen. 

The kitchen is all long rectangles of light wood laminate that almost appears grey, with countertops in white and grey marble, with hardly anything atop. Everything appears far too sterile; this does not seem like the kind of kitchen someone like Yoongi would actually enjoy using. 

Then again, Hoseok reminds himself, he does not know enough about Yoongi to be making this type of judgment call. Perhaps the man really is as vapid and empty as this space. Still, he wonders if the actual kitchen Yoongi uses in his apartment is any different.

Yoongi opens a cabinet that is practically bare of contents, pulls out two long-stem champagne flutes, and sets them on the kitchen island. Hoseok stands along the side of the island, with Yoongi in front of him, just to the left. 

As Yoongi twists the end of the wire muselet that holds the cork in place, his smile grows, causing Hoseok to smile in turn. Hoseok expects a loud sound to follow the uncorking and manages to jump anyway, despite how soft the pop is. Yoongi pulls the top of the bottle free, only spilling a little foam as he tips the mouth toward one of the glasses and begins to fill them. 

"This is a very big deal," Yoongi says as he waits for the carbonation to drop and continues to fill the flutes, stopping when they are just over half full of actual liquid, with bubbles up to the brim. "I have already given Dior the go-ahead to begin sending outfits, so we can begin the shoots either Tuesday or Wednesday."

Yoongi slides a glass toward Hoseok, then grabs his own and continues. "As for tomorrow, I want you to spend the day with Namjoon. He will take you to the spa for a facial and full body massage, and then to get a manicure and pedicure. On Tuesday, Namjoon and I will figure out what to do with your hair. I like that you have grown the back out a little; I think we can work with it."

In just a few short minutes, Yoongi has managed to give Hoseok enough information that he simply stands with his fingers wrapped around the stem of his glass and heavy blinks. As everything settles over him, Hoseok clears his throat and manages to mutter, "Oh—okay."

Yoongi chuckles and shakes his head, then holds his glass up, and Hoseok follows suit, lifting his own. "You got Dior," he says, and Hoseok swallows a lump. 

"I did, thanks to you," he says before he can stop himself, cringing inwardly over how he must sound. 

Yoongi watches Hoseok for a beat before tilting his glass forward and tapping it against his. Hoseok lifts his to his lips, then takes a slow sip. The bittersweet liquid fizzes against his tongue, and he savors it as he slowly swallows it back. 

"You're quiet today," Yoongi teases with his glass held to his lips. 

The comment makes Hoseok feel shy, and he hopes his warming cheeks do not betray him by turning red. He almost apologizes before realizing he has nothing to be sorry for, and instead says, "It's just a lot to take in all at once."

"Fair," Yoongi says, tipping his glass back and emptying its contents into his mouth. 

"I'm very grateful," Hoseok says, raising his glass to drink more but pausing and lowering it. "How long do you think we will be shooting for this particular contract?"

With a shrug, Yoongi leans forward on his elbows against the marble, watching Hoseok with his head tilted. "A few weeks, maybe. It depends on how they feel about the photos."

"And then what?" Hoseok asks with his lips against the rim of the glass, tilting it back to finish its contents. 

Yoongi stands up straight and continues to regard him with a difficult-to-read expression, head slightly tilted. "What do you mean?"

As soon as Hoseok sets his empty glass down, Yoongi lifts the bottle and fills it back up. Hoseok leans on his elbows, displeased with how they dig into the hard, cool surface. 

"I just mean when the contract ends," he nervously clarifies, "will there likely be more? Or will this be a one-time thing?"

"I suppose we have not discussed long-term plans," Yoongi says as he scoots forward a glass two-thirds full of champagne, to the brim with bubbles. "Ordinarily, models shoot with us with the goal of getting onto the cover and centerfold. You're already achieving that."

Hoseok reaches for his glass and straightens back out, lifting it to his lips. He supposes that with the cover promised to be his, there really is nowhere else he can go with M Magazine, outside of ad campaigns. 

"Once you have the shoot with Dior under your belt, there will be an endless line of companies looking for you. And not just with my magazine; companies will want you front, back, and center of countless publications. I will be shocked if you are not invited to fashion shows after this."

"So I will need to find a proper agent," Hoseok laments, already concerned about what that process may look like. 

"Eventually, it would be for the best," Yoongi agrees, lifting his glass to drink half of its contents. "I know people; I can start making phone calls and finding out who would be a good fit. You will want to conduct interviews and make sure to find someone who can best represent you."

With a sigh, Hoseok lets his arm drop slowly, resting his elbow against the marble with his glass dangling between his fingertips. Already, he feels a bit tipsy, and he realizes he should have eaten something before coming over here. 

"Seems like a lot," he grumbles quietly.

"It's not too bad," Yoongi responds. 

Hoseok drinks back the rest of his champagne and sets the flute down. When Yoongi shoots his drink back and reaches once more for the bottle, Hoseok chuckles. 

"I should probably eat something," he admits, eyes falling to the marble counter. 

"I could order some take out," Yoongi offers.

Hoseok's gaze lifts to find Yoongi with his elbows against the countertop, eyes on him. Tension hangs, and Hoseok wonders if Yoongi feels it. He hopes desperately that Yoongi does not.

"Alright," Hoseok agrees. Yoongi was the one who told Hoseok to never turn down payment when it is offered, and he thinks food counts as payment.

"There's a halal spot I like," Yoongi suggests, and Hoseok's stomach grumbles in response just thinking about falafel. 

"Yes, please," he says perhaps a little too eagerly, making both of them chuckle. 

Yoongi wastes no time taking out his phone and placing an order, and Hoseok sips on his champagne, easing into the idea of sharing more meals with his boss. 

He turns and leans against the countertop, elbows against cool marble, and looks at the poster-sized magazine covers on the other side of the room. He wonders whether Yoongi ever hung Jeongguk on his wall but decides not to ask.

* * *

Spa day with Namjoon is everything Hoseok could hope it would be and so much more. The two of them wear matching black tees and joggers, which they agree upon over the phone before Namjoon picks him up, and they swing by a cute little bakery for pastries and coffee, and then set out for a day of pampering, all on Yoongi's dime. 

Namjoon is excellent company and participates in each activity. He even has his nails painted a shimmery black while Hoseok gets a manicure, and apologizes profusely for being so ticklish during a pedicure. 

They get facials and massages, and Hoseok does his best to ignore the deep, whiny grunts Namjoon makes while the masseuse walks across his back, all while struggling to keep his own sounds at bay. At the end of the day, when they are both properly pampered and feeling relaxed, Namjoon pulls up to a museum. 

"No spa day is complete without a leisurely walk through some galleries," he insists, and Hoseok agrees. 

He hardly sees any of the art, busy instead thinking about Yoongi and all that he has already done for him. Eating with him last night felt so comfortable, like spending time with a friend. A friend for whom Hoseok has a big fat fucking crush on, but a friend, no less. 

Except, Hoseok knows Yoongi is not his friend, and therein lies so many conflicting feelings. 

While in front of a giant painting of water lilies, Hoseok clears his throat and mutters, "Hey, Namjoon? Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Namjoon responds, standing tall and turning his attention to Hoseok.

"Does Yoongi always go out on a limb for people?"

Namjoon chuckles and says, "Yes and no. Mostly no. Why do you ask?"

Hoseok swallows thickly, eyes trailing across the painting. He has no idea why he suddenly feels so shy. "I guess…I don't know…I heard he has a reputation for being cold…but he's been super nice and helpful to me."

"You're a good investment," Namjoon says simply. 

It is not quite the answer Hoseok wants to hear, but it does make sense. "Ah."

"And I think he has a bit of a soft spot for you," Namjoon says, much quieter, making Hoseok perk up. "But you didn't hear that from me."

"Yes I absolutely did!" Hoseok responds, turning his full attention to Namjoon. "Say more!"

Namjoon chuckles and sways before turning and slowly walking toward another large painting of flowers, these ones standing tall in a vase. 

"He just seems softer these days," Namjoon mutters with a shrug. He turns to Hoseok, showing off his dimpled smile as he says, "He's even being nicer to people."

This is alarming, and suddenly Hoseok feels eager to change the topic. It feels dangerous to think that Yoongi has a soft spot for him. 

"I suppose having a good investment puts the man in a good mood," he says, shrugging the information away despite the quickening of his pulse. 

"It's true," Namjoon replies. "So don't make the same mistake the others did and catch feelings. I see the way he looks at you��ignore it. I'm serious."

Hoseok rolls his eyes. "As if," he grumbles despite knowing he already is catching feelings, and fast. 

* * *

Hoseok's first day as a Dior model is perhaps the best day of his life. 

Namjoon dresses him in grey with a thick, long-sleeve shirt tucked into matching pants. He includes a demi-skirt that attaches with a buckle around his waist, hanging over his left leg in long pleats down to his ankle, and he picks out chunky, futuristic-looking white and grey high-top sneakers. To complete the look, Namjoon chooses a thick silver necklace and black sunglasses, and he slicks Hoseok's hair back. 

"Look cocky," Yoongi instructs with a stern expression, eyes only leaving his camera viewfinder to give quick orders. "Chin up like you own the fucking place."

Hoseok obeys, smirking and tipping his chin upward. He raises an arm, hand held out as if to show off – as if to say, watch me shine.

"Perfect," Yoongi says, dropping his arms to his side, camera in his right hand with the strap wrapped around his wrist. He winks, giving Hoseok butterflies as he says, "Show-stopping."

* * *

The rest of the week feels like a blur. Hoseok is dressed in more lavish designer clothing, all of which he is given at the end of each shoot. He cannot wait to brag to Jimin; he plans on waiting until he has enough of the men's collection to bring Jimin over and open up his closet with fanfare and applause. 

Despite his cold demeanor at work, Yoongi offers to drive Hoseok home twice, both times claiming he has business on that side of town. Both times squeezing Hoseok's knee and telling him he is doing great. 

Hoseok's heart pounds as he exits Yoongi's car for the second day in a row. He glances back from the door of his apartment building and then scurries quickly inside when he realizes Yoongi is watching him. 

"What am I doing?" he mutters to himself as he sprints up the short flight of stairs, eager to get all of his energy out. 

He unlocks his apartment and leans against the door to close it tight, winded and attempting to get his thoughts together. It is impossible not to dwell on what Namjoon said to him on Monday about Yoongi becoming softer with him around. 

His wandering thoughts always circle back to wondering whether Yoongi has feelings for him. I see the way he looks at you, Namjoon said, and Hoseok cannot stop dwelling on it.

It infuriates Hoseok to think about how badly he wants to text Yoongi and call Yoongi. He wants to be invited to eat another meal with Yoongi, and he wishes he could ask Yoongi for his opinion on random bullshit like fallen empires and wainscoting – anything to get the man talking; it doesn't matter what the subject is.

He wants to cultivate an actual friendship with Yoongi, but he has no idea what that looks like. How does someone befriend an enigma? How does Hoseok – a man who is working on becoming a star – befriend someone whose full face has never knowingly been seen at public events?

Hoseok kicks out of his sneakers and paces around his living room. He really wants to go out and drink with his friends, but he has an early morning tomorrow. It is the final day of shooting for Dior, and he has to pose with a bottle of cologne. 

So instead, Hoseok opts to take a bath. He leaves a trail of his clothing from the living room to the bathroom, and once the tub is full of warm, bubbly water, he sinks all the way down until only his face sticks out.

Hoseok's phone buzzes against the closed lid of his toilet, and he perks up. Although he is curious about the source of the buzz, he feels too relaxed and warm to lift his arm. But then it buzzes again and again, and his interest becomes too piqued to ignore. 

With a sigh, Hoseok lifts his arm from the sudsy water, dries his hand on a towel that is folded beside his phone on the toilet lid, and picks up the device. He unlocks the screen, opens his messenger app, and nearly drops his phone in the tub.

Magic Min Excellent work today, Hoseok! 

Magic Min All week, really. You're killing it.

Magic Min How comfortable do you feel with shooting nude?

Hoseok very unceremoniously dries his other hand, throwing water and bubbles onto the tile floor in the process, lips moving around unvoiced words as he reads and rereads Yoongi's last message.

Hoseok Nude???

Hoseok has never been one to shy away from nudity. While in college, he even posed nude for the figure drawing classes, and he was obsessed with seeing all the different ways the students managed to capture his likeness. 

But posing nude in front of his crush feels nerve-wracking, even if he has already posed in his briefs and gold paint. 

Magic Min For the fragrance shoot, I was thinking we cover you in some kind of shimmery dust and pose you with the bottle resting against your skin. Something delicate and tasteful. 

Delicate and tasteful. Hoseok hangs on those three words. 

Hoseok I can handle that! Sounds fun. 

Magic Min Perfect. I'll call Namjoon and tell him to bring a merkin for you tomorrow. 

Hoseok does a search for what a merkin is, and it takes a moment for his eyes to communicate to his brain just what he is seeing. But then he realizes that it is a small, adhesive accessory to put over his dick and balls so that he can be nude but covered without needing to have underwear on. 

He gasps and nearly drops his phone into the tub again. Then he tosses his phone onto the towel atop the toilet and sinks back into the water. 

* * *

Hoseok cannot stop staring at his reflection, eyes glued to the skin-toned swath of fabric that covers his junk in a thin little pouch. He turns and eyes up the small piece of fabric that comes from between his buttcheeks and sticks to his skin, and marvels at the wonders of human creation. 

"How does it feel?" Namjoon calls from the other side of the door. 

"Like a thong, I guess," Hoseok responds. "But smaller."

"Can I come in?"

It takes a few seconds for Hoseok to process Namjoon's request, and he stares at his nearly nude body in the mirror, stammering around, "Y-yeah, uh, I guess."

Namjoon opens the door quickly and slips into the black-tiled bathroom. He holds a canister of spray-on glitter, and he eyes Hoseok's handy work quickly, making sure the adhesive does not run the risk of coming loose. 

"I never get used to seeing these when they're skin-toned," Namjoon says as he removes the cap from the can and begins to shake it. "It's so strange to see a man naked but with no genitals, you know?"

Hoseok laughs, feeling his anxiety lift some. "Totally."

Namjoon reaches into the pocket of his flowing black slacks and pulls out two black masks. "I don't need either of us breathing this shit in," he says as he hands one to Hoseok and then puts the other over his mouth and nose.

"Thanks, Joonie," Hoseok says as he puts his mask on. Then he stands up tall and waits to be sprayed.

"This is gonna be cold," Namjoon warns, making Hoseok chuckle. This is the second time he has heard that since joining M Magazine. 

Namjoon is quick but thorough as he sprays cold glitter all over Hoseok's body. Then he ushers Hoseok from the bathroom to the makeup chair in the next room over and uses a shimmery powder on Hoseok's face and neck, and adds some to the already existing shimmer on his shoulders and chest. 

"How often do you guys do nude shoots?" Hoseok asks as his nervousness begins to ramp up. 

Namjoon's face is mere inches away from his own as he applies black mascara to Hoseok's lashes. "Not too often. Why?"

Hoseok shrugs, staring at Namjoon's concentrating face. "It's just…you know…this is the second time I've been stripped down and covered in gold."

Namjoon cracks a smile, then takes a step back. "You're not wrong."

"I get it," Hoseok says, finally allowing himself to blink. "I'm pretty sexy."

"Of course you are," Namjoon quips back. "Everyone Yoongi scouts is."

Once again, Namjoon comes in hot with shit that is not quite what Hoseok wants to hear. But he is grateful for how candid Namjoon always is with him. It's nice.

"All set?" Namjoon asks. 

Hoseok nods, feeling a bit shy to leave this room. 

"It's just me and Yoongi on set, so you don't have to worry about too many wandering eyes."

With a deep exhale, Hoseok mutters, "That's a relief."

The studio is warmer than usual, for which Hoseok is thankful. He walks with careful steps and approaches what looks like a bed resting in the middle of the room with a black backdrop. A fuzzy white sheet hangs from the small, raised mattress, and when Hoseok approaches and presses his hand into it, he is surprised to find it is filled with water.

"I want you on your stomach," Yoongi says, approaching from another room, causing Hoseok to startle and gasp. "Would you be offended if we placed the cologne bottle against the small of your back?"

"N-no," Hoseok mutters as he assesses how the hell to get up onto the water mattress. Luckily, Namjoon walks over with a small wooden step stool and offers Hoseok a hand. 

Hoseok very carefully crawls to the center of the mattress, knees digging into whatever hard surface is beneath, and then he lays down. As he does, the mattress dips and creates a shape reminiscent of a cloud around him. 

"Arms bent with your chin resting on your hands," Yoongi instructs, and Hoseok does as he is told, anchoring himself up on his elbows. "Maybe bend your legs? One more than the other, like you are kicking them back and forth."

Hoseok lifts his feet and bends his right leg more than his left. Then he does his best to take slow, shallow breaths in preparation for the bottle to be placed. 

"Namjoon, would you mind adding some shimmer to his feet?"

Namjoon mutters, "Of course, boss," and very delicately brushes shimmer onto the bottoms and sides of Hoseok's feet, making him thankful he got a pedicure earlier in the week. 

It feels awkward to lay in place, especially with a cold glass container placed on the small of his back. But Yoongi is quick with his shutter and wastes no time getting the shots and asking Hoseok to sit up. 

"Legs bent and crossed in front of you, with your feet elongated and pointing downward," Yoongi instructs. "Hold the bottle close to your face and give me a simple cold expression."

Hoseok lifts and crosses his legs, pointing his toes downward and doing his best to keep his merkin shielded behind his shins. He drapes his free arm over one knee, elongating his fingertips, as well, and holds the bottle close to his cheek, staring into the lens. 

"Stunning," Yoongi mutters, causing Hoseok's heart to pound. 

Yoongi continues to position Hoseok while Namjoon stays close by to gently dust gold shimmer over his skin, and the morning moves rather quickly. Once they are finished, Namjoon brings a long, fuzzy black robe out for Hoseok to cover himself with, and staff members enter, moving objects around to create a new set. 

"Break for lunch," Yoongi says, flipping through photos. "I just have a quick shoot to finish with another model, then I want to go over these with you when you return."

"Sounds good, boss!" Hoseok replies, chipper and satisfied. 

He leaves the set in slippers and the robe, entering a common space where a table of food is laid out. Sandwiches and platters of fruits and vegetables greet him, and Hoseok grabs a white ceramic plate and gets to work filling it. 

Then he sits and enjoys his food, staring ahead at the empty white wall while thinking about the photoshoot. He had been so nervous that he hardly made eye contact with Yoongi – which was easy, considering Yoongi's eyes rarely left his viewfinder. 

Once he is finished eating, he walks the plate over to a plastic grey tub and places it inside with other dishes. Then he decides to return to the set and wait for Yoongi to be ready to speak with him, feeling eager to find out what he thinks of their shoot. 

Only, when he enters the set, he stops in his tracks. Yoongi has his camera hanging around his neck, leaning close to a model, and he very delicately pushes the model's long, jet black hair behind her ear. She says something that Hoseok cannot make out, then giggles, and when Yoongi leans closer to say something that makes her giggle more, Hoseok feels the urge to throw up. 

"Oh, hey Seok," Namjoon says as he leaves the makeup room and approaches with his arms crossed over his chest. "Break over so soon?"

Yoongi turns to look at Hoseok at the same time Hoseok tears his gaze away to nod at Namjoon.

"I was bored," Hoseok lies, nodding toward the makeup room. "Left my phone in there."

"Ah," Namjoon says, nodding in understanding. "Well, Seori just has one outfit to model, so Yoongi should be finished quickly."

Hoseok swallows thickly and nods, muttering, "Sounds good," while trying not to let his smile betray him. 

"Just give me a couple minutes," Yoongi calls, and Hoseok nods, eyes looking anywhere but at him. 

Yoongi proceeds to photograph the pretty model, who smiles brightly, giggling each time Yoongi tells her to move her limbs this way and that. Hoseok watches as she gives intense fuck-me-eyes to Yoongi and his camera, and waits somewhat impatiently as she takes her time praising Yoongi a little too flirtatiously and rubbing his bicep with her hand. 

"Alright, Seori-ssi," Yoongi finally says, placing a hand over hers to make her stop. "I have more business to attend to, but thank you for being so flexible and coming in last-minute."

"I'm always flexible for you, sir," she says with a wink, to which Hoseok rolls his eyes before smiling sweetly and saying, "Nice work," when she walks by. 

"Sorry for making you wait," Yoongi says, staring down at his camera. "Step into my office?"

What Yoongi calls an office is the entire second floor of the two-story building. It is half the width of the building, on top of the makeup, equipment, and common rooms, and it overlooks the entire studio from a glass wall that stays mostly covered by thick black curtains. 

Hoseok follows Yoongi up a set of metal stairs with his hands sunken deep into the pockets of his fuzzy black robe. To his chagrin, Yoongi walks ahead, ass on display in tight black slacks. To make matters worse, Yoongi wears a tight black short-sleeve tee tucked into his slacks, and when he holds his office door open for Hoseok to enter, his arm flexes. 

Yoongi's office looks a lot like his apartment studio, minus the kitchen. Large brown leather couches create a square around a dark table made from strangely shaped reclaimed wood, poster-sized magazine covers line the walls, and on the far end of the space is a large wooden desk with a brown leather top and several brown leather chairs surrounding it.

Photography equipment and set pieces are stacked here and there, and the lighting is quite dim, only shining in a purple glow from the high corners, near the ceiling. The long black curtains are pulled completely shut, blocking out any light that could come in from the studio. 

Yoongi flips on a switch, brightening the space only slightly with a yellow glow, and he makes his way toward his desk, feet somewhat draggling, causing him to waddle ever so slightly. Hoseok follows, letting his gaze fall from Yoongi's ass to the dark wood floor, and he approaches the desk and begins to have a seat in one of the leather armchairs. 

"Come around this way," Yoongi says as he plops down into his computer chair and clicks the monitor on. "You can sit on the desk if you want. I don't care."

Hoseok hesitates, then rounds the desk. Ordinarily, he would opt not to sit on the desk in a robe and merkin, but he suddenly feels far more worn out than he had moments ago and does not feel like pulling a heavy leather chair over from the other side. 

Yoongi clicks around on his screen, then opens up files from today's shoot, filling the large monitor with nothing but Hoseok's skin covered in glitter. His ass and hips are prominent in many of the images, and he glances at Yoongi, watching the way his eyes trace along Hoseok's curves. 

"What did I tell you?" he asks, smile breaking out across his face. 

"You've told me a lot of things," Hoseok responds somewhat sheepishly, eyes glued to Yoongi's smile. 

Yoongi chuckles, then turns to Hoseok. He sits back, crosses his arms over his chest, and says, "Under the right lighting you're show-stopping in the nude."

Hoseok rolls his eyes dramatically and then begins to laugh, and he is thankful when Yoongi laughs, as well. 

Yoongi flips through the photographs, pointing out shots that he favors and complimenting Hoseok's expression and body language. They decide on a full body shot for the two-page centerfold and two closer shots for single-page spreads – one of Hoseok holding the bottle close to his face and the other with the bottle dangling from his outstretched hand. Then Yoongi shuts off his monitor and sits back with a sigh. 

"Thanks for being so accommodating," Yoongi says, staring at Hoseok as if he has more he would like to say.

Hoseok shrugs. "It's no big deal. I had fun."

Silence hangs, making Hoseok feel tense. He watches Yoongi, who watches him, and he does his best to block out the interaction he witnessed with the model Seori, but it feels impossible to take his mind off of it. 

"Need a ride home?" Yoongi finally asks. "I have to go that way."

"Sure," Hoseok responds. "That would be nice."

Yoongi stands and hovers in a way that prevents Hoseok from standing up from the desk. 

"Sorry you had to see Seori flirting with me," he says so quietly, Hoseok wonders if he is making it up.

When Hoseok says nothing more, Yoongi's lips tug into a smirk. "I saw the way you were staring daggers into her."

Hoseok opens his mouth to respond, but only a scoff comes out. When Yoongi still doesn't back up, Hoseok raises an eyebrow and says, "I was staring daggers into both of you, actually."

"Oh?" Yoongi asks, smile widening. He slips his hands into his pockets, and Hoseok stops himself from looking at the way the fabric hugs his crotch. 

"Not that I'm surprised, or anything," Hoseok continues, eager to see how much he can get away with. "You have a reputation, after all."

Yoongi sneers and Hoseok cannot tell if there is playfulness behind the look. It makes his anxiety spike, which he does his best not to show. When Yoongi finally does open his mouth to respond, Hoseok's heart pounds even harder. 

"Don't tell me you are jealous, Hoseok." 

"Jealous?" Hoseok bites back, tasting bile on his tongue. "Why would I be jealous?"

Yoongi leans close, warm breath wafting over Hoseok's face, smelling of mint. "Flirting is all part of the job, you know. Sometimes it's easier to get these models to do what I want when I make them think they're special."

Anger rises, and Hoseok stares into Yoongi's eyes. "And what are you doing, now? Do you also call this flirting?"

Yoongi scoffs, mouth forming something between a smirk and a scowl. He looks briefly down at Hoseok's lips and shakes his head. 

"No. Right now I'm preventing myself from making a mistake."

Hoseok intakes a shaky breath, eyes falling to Yoongi's lips as he mutters, "A mistake?"

"Mmhmm."

"What mistake?" he asks, looking back into Yoongi's eyes. 

Yoongi tongues the inside of his mouth and shakes his head, then he takes a step back and nods toward the door. 

"Keep the robe if you want to. That way you don't get glitter on your clothing. I just need to close everything down and I'll meet you downstairs in a moment."

Hoseok nods, slides from the desk, and turns to leave the room. All he can think about is the fact that Yoongi seemed eager to kiss him just now, and he feels dizzy from the thought. What else could he have meant by making a mistake?

He wonders if Yoongi used the same bullshit line on Jeongguk. 

Hoseok makes his way down the metal steps and walks into the makeup room, which is the first door on the left at the bottom of the stairs. Namjoon has folded his clothing neatly and placed the garments into a large paper bag, with Hoseok's phone and wallet on top of the pile. 

"At least one person in this building isn't a confusing fucking asshole," he mutters under his breath. 

Hoseok pulls his phone from the bag and shoots a text off to Jimin—

Hoseok Tonight. Drinks. I need to let off some steam.

—then he turns to exit the room, shocked to find Yoongi standing in the doorway. 

"Boss?" he asks as Yoongi closes the door behind him and locks the handle. 

"Can you keep a secret?" Yoongi asks, making Hoseok's heart go haywire.

Hoseok swallows thickly and nods, muttering, "Y-yeah."

"Good," Yoongi responds, closing the space between them. Hoseok leans away instinctively, pressing his lower back against the makeup counter. "I wanted to kiss you. Was it obvious?"

"Yeah," Hoseok utters softly, nodding. "It was."

"It seemed like you wanted to kiss me, too."

Hoseok swallows thickly, gaze falling to Yoongi's lips. "Yeah. I did."

"But you understand why we can't do that, yes?"

Hoseok is painfully aware of the power Yoongi could hold over his head if he allowed even a sliver of intimacy to take place between the two of them.

"I do."

"Good. Glad to have that cleared up."

Yoongi is far too close for comfort, and Hoseok wishes he would take a step back and let him breathe. But instead, Yoongi stands still and quiet, watching Hoseok as if he is waiting for him to say something. 

But what the fuck could Hoseok possibly say? Thank him for wanting to kiss him? And for having the wherewithal to hold back? He would rather not say a word and hope that they can let this go without ever bringing it up again. 

"Shall we?" Yoongi finally asks, taking a step back. 

Hoseok lets out a deep breath, heavy-blinking as he nods. "Alright."

Yoongi turns and opens the door, and Hoseok gives him space before grabbing his bag and following. Now that all of that is out in the open, Hoseok feels strange about letting Yoongi drive him home. He can definitely afford to use a cab service now, but he decides he would rather spend that money later, at the club with Jimin. 

The ride home is quiet, and Hoseok cannot decide whether it is a good thing or not. Knowing Yoongi may have similar feelings for him only serves to make him feel more anxious around the man. 

Then again, Yoongi could just be using it as leverage to make Hoseok more accommodating. As he said, he flirts as a means to get models to do what he wants.

Hoseok hardly says goodbye when Yoongi pulls up to his place, and he does not turn to look at him, uttering a quick, "Thanks," before taking his leave. The moment he is inside his building, panic rises, and he feels the overwhelming urge to cry. 

* * *

"He what?" Jimin screams over loud club music. Hoseok looks around, thankful their other friends are nowhere to be seen. "I'm sorry, what the fuck?"

Hoseok nods and sighs. "Jeongguk was right. Dude's a fucking asshole."

"What kind of man teases you about the possibility of him making you jealous and then says, with his whole fucking chest, that he wants to kiss you but that it would be a mistake?"

"An asshole," Hoseok sighs. 

"Man, fuck that guy." Jimin is all riled up, stomping cutely in his shimmery black boots. He wears a black mesh top and a black tennis skirt with a white stripe just above the bottom hem, accentuating his incredible legs.

Hoseok runs a hand through his hair, causing glitter to rain down. Rather than shower when he got home earlier, he just changed out of the merkin and into a tight white tee and black booty shorts, and met Jimin, Taehyung, and Jeongguk for drinks at a small dive bar while waiting for the club to open. He is still covered head to toe in glitter. 

Hoseok is rather drunk and has switched to water. And despite the night still being somewhat young, he feels the urge to call it a night and crawl into bed. 

"When does your Dior contract end?" Jimin asks, tilting his head in concern. 

"Not sure. It could be over now, unless they decide to shoot more outfits."

"Annoying," Jimin huffs. "He should be more clear about that kind of thing."

Hoseok hums. 

"The one time the man can't fucking communicate," Jimin adds, making Hoseok laugh despite not really feeling in the mood to.

"I'm grateful for all he has done," Hoseok says. He takes a drink of cold water from a flimsy plastic bottle that crackles loudly with each movement. "But it would have been better for him to just…not be the way he is. None of it is necessary."

"Exactly."

"Like, if he wants to kiss me then fine, whatever. But he doesn't have to corner me and make it into a whole weird ass thing!"

"Exactly!"

Hoseok sighs. "I might go home. Now that I'm out and drunk, I just feel sleepy."

"Valid," Jimin says, nodding. He turns and looks through the crowd long enough to spot their friends grinding on the dancefloor not too far from them. Then he turns back to Hoseok. "Get yourself to bed. I'm gonna try to suck one of their dicks tonight."

Hoseok rolls his eyes and pretends to gag, earning him a slap on the arm. He sits forward and wiggles his phone out from his back pocket, opens an app to call for a cab, then thumbs over to a message he received while ranting to Jimin. 

Min Asshole Think you could come in tomorrow? Dior wants one more outfit, and the deadline for the first draft is Monday.

Hoseok sighs and tips his head back, closing his eyes while contemplating his existence. It would be foolish to turn down more money, but he would rather pull his teeth out than see Yoongi again so soon. 

Hoseok Just saw this. I can, but I might be hungover.

Hoseok is shocked when his phone rings, screen lighting up with the name Min Asshole in big white text. He sighs and ignores the call, then sends Yoongi a text.

Hoseok At the club. 2 loud 2 talk on the phone. I can call in 10 when I get home.

Min Asshole Do you need a ride home?

Hoseok scoffs, then checks on his app to see that a cab will be arriving in three minutes. 

Hoseok Nah, taking a cab.

Min Asshole If you're up to shoot tomorrow, we can do it any time. I can pick you up whenever you're feeling up for it, even if it's later in the evening. 

Hoseok K.

Jimin sighs loudly, pulling Hoseok's attention. 

"Sorry. Min Asshole wants me to shoot more tomorrow."

This news causes Jimin to stand straight up, expression opening with surprise. "On a Saturday? You gonna do it?"

Hoseok shrugs. "May as well. I got a car coming though, so I'm gonna call it a night. Have fun with your…you know."

Hoseok lifts his hand and mimics sucking dick, pushing his tongue into his cheek. Jimin giggles and slaps him once more on the arm then opens his arms for a hug, which Hoseok steps forward to accept. 

"I'm sure one of them would be accommodating if you wanted to join us," Jimin offers, waggling his eyebrows. 

Hoseok wouldn't mind making Taehyung or Jeongguk whimper, but he's just not in the mood. "Thanks anyway, but I'm tired."

"Alright," Jimin says, reaching for his bright blue drink and chugging the rest of it back. "Text when you're home!"

"Will do," Hoseok says. 

His phone dings, signaling his car is pulling up, and he grabs his jacket and makes a beeline for the door. The driver says nothing the entire ride, and Hoseok stares out his window, doing his best to stay alert despite feeling rundown and exhausted. 

Once home, Hoseok shuffles up to his apartment, throws his belongings to the floor, and shimmies out of his clothing on his way to take a quick hot shower. He towels off in a hurry, rushes through his nightly skincare routine, and climbs into bed nude, clenching his phone in his hand. 

He wants to call Yoongi and give him a piece of his mind but he refrains, thinking in circles instead about Yoongi's behavior before drifting to sleep. 

When he wakes up, he feels exhausted. He sighs as he rubs the comforter in search of his phone, then he turns the screen on, sees that it is 9 in the morning, and closes his eyes to sleep longer. 

Unfortunately, his bladder has other plans for him, and after several long moments of laying as still as possible, he gives up with a groan and throws his comforter aside. He decides that he will go ahead and start the day, but he is not going to be happy about it. 

Begrudgingly, he shoots a text to Yoongi and slowly starts his morning routine. 

Hoseok I'm up. What's the plan, boss?

Hoseok is surprised when two hours pass before he hears anything. He half expects Yoongi to be the type to get up bright and early, ready to work. He is halfway through an episode of SpongeBob SquarePants when his phone vibrates. 

Min Asshole Pick you up at 3? Have you eaten?

With a little over two hours to spare, Hoseok decides he may as well agree and get it all over with. And although he has plenty of time to feed himself, he considers allowing Yoongi to spend more money on him. 

Hoseok 3 works. I have not eaten.

Three dots appear and Hoseok watches, waiting for a response to come. 

Min Asshole Perfect. Joonie keeps talking about this chicken spot that just opened in the neighborhood, so I plan to send him to grab a to-go order. Come hungry if that sounds good. 

It does sound good. Hoseok sends a thumbs-up emoji and sinks onto the couch. Between now and then, he plans to do nothing but space out. 

What he does not plan, however, is to fall asleep. Hoseok wakes to the sound of his phone ringing, and when he sees Min Asshole on the screen, he begins to panic.

"Shit," Hoseok mutters as soon as he answers the call. "I passed out."

"Oh," Yoongi says. "Do you need time to get ready?"

"Nah," Hoseok says through a yawn, sitting up tall to stretch his back and neck. "Just need to put on some shoes and brush my teeth. But, uh, not in that order."

"Cool," Yoongi responds. "Take your time."

"Are you here already?"

"I am."

"Alright. I'll be quick."

Hoseok hangs up the call and shuffles to his bathroom to brush his teeth and run a comb through his hair. He wears a set of black silk pajamas that he stumbled into this morning and he opts to stay in them, sliding his feet into fuzzy black Ugg slippers. 

He finds a small black handbag and packs his phone, wallet, and keys. Then he locks up and heads down the stairs and out into the sunny day. 

Yoongi is on his phone when Hoseok tries the door, and it takes him a second to put his phone away and unlock the door. 

"Good afternoon, sunshine," Yoongi drawls as he eyes up Hoseok's attire. His musky, floral cologne cloys Hoseok's senses, making him fight a sneer. 

Hoseok grunts, gets settled, and puts on his seatbelt. With a low chuckle, Yoongi drives off. 

"Hungover?" he asks at a red light. 

Hoseok keeps his eyes ahead but can see Yoongi turn to regard him. He shrugs and says, "Not so much after taking a nap. Now I'm just trying to wake up."

"That's good."

Hoseok nods somewhat listlessly and Yoongi laughs. 

"You're mad at me," he says. 

Hoseok shrugs, thankful for the light turning green so Yoongi has to look at the road. 

"Just tired," he lies. 

"Alright," Yoongi says.

The rest of the ride is quiet. Yoongi parks beside the curb in front of his building, and right as Hoseok gets out of the car, Namjoon pulls up behind them. 

"Great timing!" Yoongi shouts as he makes his way to Namjoon's vehicle. 

Hoseok does the same, albeit dragging his feet. Namjoon hands Yoongi a white plastic bag full of brown takeout boxes, and Yoongi walks ahead to unlock the building. 

Hoseok hangs back to greet Namjoon in a half hug, glad there is not more for him to carry. 

"He told me," Namjoon mutters, rubbing Hoseok's back. 

Hoseok tenses and then sighs. He supposes there is nothing to worry about with Namjoon but he does feel rather strange about it. What did he tell Namjoon, exactly? That he wanted to kiss Hoseok but chose not to?

"Thanks for the chicken," Hoseok says as they make their way to the building, trailing behind Yoongi, who stands in front of the elevator, waiting. 

"Yoon mentioned you might be hungover today," Namjoon says in a commiserating tone. "Nothing cures that quite like greasy food."

"True," Hoseok chuckles. "Fried chicken always hits the spot."

They make their way to the fourth floor, and Hoseok kicks out of his slippers and walks over to the couch, to the spot he always sits. Yoongi takes the food into the kitchen and begins to unpack everything. 

With Namjoon around, Hoseok is able to forget about how much he hates Yoongi's stupid, pretty guts. He averts his attention from Yoongi's messy long hair and how it falls in waves around his face. He successfully ignores how good Yoongi looks dressed down in a black t-shirt and tight blue jeans. 

Namjoon wears a soft white sweater with lapels that hang open, showing hints of skin, and loose-fitted blue jeans from which his toes barely stick out, and he looks soft and snuggly – the perfect distraction from his asshole boss. 

They eat fried chicken and tteokbokki, then Namjoon works his magic making Hoseok's eye bags disappear. Yoongi presents Hoseok with a silk shirt to replace his current silk shirt, and Hoseok begins to unbutton his top right here in the middle of the small, dimly lit studio. 

Since these two men have seen Hoseok almost entirely nude, he has no interest in modesty. He is too physically, emotionally, and spiritually tired to care. And if he wants to flaunt himself in front of the asshole who enjoys teasing him, that is his own business. 

Hoseok shrugs his black top to the floor and then carefully puts on the Dior shirt. It is loose-fitting and covered in the light blue Dior logo with a tan background, which repeats in diagonals along the entire garment. 

"There are matching pants, as well, but it sounds like they just want closeups of this piece," Yoongi informs while Hoseok makes delicate work buttoning the shirt. 

He buttons it all the way to the top, and then Namjoon approaches to smooth the fabric down over his shoulders and chest, straightening the lapels. Then he holds out a hand, ushering Hoseok to go to the far end of the room and stand in front of the black wall. 

Yoongi switches on the lighting equipment and begins to shoot without instruction. Hoseok stands up straight, expression flat, twisting and leaning every so often, alternating looking at the camera and off to the side, in time with Yoongi's rapid shutter. 

Once they are finished, Yoongi thanks Hoseok for his time and Hoseok walks across the room, grabs his black silk top from where Namjoon draped it over the back of the vanity chair, and leaves the room. He unbuttons the Dior shirt, shrugs it off, drapes it delicately over the back of a sofa, and quickly puts his own shirt back on before gathering his handbag. 

"Need a ride?" Namjoon asks. 

Hoseok looks up, finding Yoongi leaning in the doorway of his studio while Namjoon approaches to slip on his shoes. 

"Sure," Hoseok says. "That would be nice."

He slides on his fuzzy slippers, waits for Namjoon to be ready, and gives Yoongi a limp flick of the wrist as a goodbye, not bothering to see whether Yoongi waves back. Once he is in the elevator and the doors slide closed, he lets out a deep sigh.

"You didn't hear this from me," Namjoon says, making Hoseok whip his gaze to where Namjoon stands to his right. "Seori, the model with the long black hair, is someone Yoongi used to sleep with. That behavior you walked in on…it's just the way they are."

"Man," Hoseok grumbles, feeling his heart sink. "The rumors really are true."

Namjoon laughs and sighs. "Unfortunately."

"I fucking hate him."

"Seems like you like him."

Hoseok rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "Unfortunately."

"I'm surprised you're not trying to shake me down for what he said to me about last night," Namjoon teases as the elevator door opens. 

"What's the use?" Hoseok asks as they walk through the lobby toward the front door. "I don't think knowing how he feels about me would make this situation any better. And I don't want to make you snitch on your friend."

"Good point," Namjoon says as he opens the front door to the building and holds it for Hoseok to walk through. 

"How many ex fuck buddies does Yoongi have at the company?" Hoseok asks as they approach Namjoon's little black sports car. 

"Sure you wanna know?" Namjoon asks. 

The car beeps unlocked, and Hoseok sighs as he says, "No."

On the drive home, Hoseok decides he would like to get drunk once again. And as soon as Namjoon drops him off, he sends Jimin a text saying as much. It is only half past six, so Hoseok lays on his couch and takes another nap before waking up and getting ready. 

Hoseok wears the black silk pajama top to the club, unbuttoned over tiny white shorts, with his hair styled messily, still wearing the makeup Namjoon applied earlier. He and Jimin take far too many shots, Hoseok finds someone cute to exchange sloppy handjobs with in a bathroom stall, and then he gets home just in time to black out on his way to bed. 

Sunday is a blur of waking up only to take care of bodily functions and return to bed. He more or less sleeps the entire day away, ignoring his friend's calls to join them for a meal, and he wakes up bright and early Monday morning in a sour mood. 

He is difficult all morning, barely looking at or speaking to Yoongi. For the first time since joining M Magazine, Yoongi complains that Hoseok is not giving enough and that his photos are not turning out as well as they should be, making Hoseok's mood worse. 

Yoongi wraps up the shoot, does not offer to show Hoseok any of the photos, and when Hoseok returns from the makeup room, thumbing through his phone to order a cab, he overhears Yoongi telling one of the female models, "I was thinking that I want you on the next cover, instead."

Anger rises, and Hoseok storms out before he can say something to Yoongi that he might regret, and as soon as he is out into the bright evening air, tears pour down his cheeks. 

"Fuck this," he grits, crossing his arms over his chest. If he is this easily replaced, all over a kiss that never happened, he is certain that he does not need to work with Yoongi anymore. 

What kind of ego must a man like him have if this is the way he behaves? God forbid he is not allowed to fuck every single person who sashays into his studio.

Although he attempts to keep from crying in the back of the cab, a few stray tears roll down his cheeks. Once he is inside his apartment with his shoes and jacket discarded in the middle of the floor, he storms over to his fridge and takes out a bottle of soju. 

On an empty stomach, Hoseok drinks the bottle and two more, crying while SpongeBob SquarePants gets into silly little antics on the television. He wants to call Yoongi and give him a piece of his mind, but he texts Jimin instead. 

Hoseok All men do is lie.

Hoseok is not at all surprised when Jimin responds immediately, and he feels thankful for his best friend.

Jimin Tell me about it, honey.

Hoseok I'm so close to calling Min Asshole and giving him a piece of my fucking mind. He is aggravating!!!

Jimin Have you been drinking?

Hoseok Maybe…

Jimin Hmm. Maybe you shouldn't call him. Although! It might be good for you to get your feelings off your chest. Maybe a well-penned text would be good.

Hoseok Not sure I could say how I feel clearly through text. I'm fucking pissed, for real.

Jimin Do you think he would fire you if you called him and cussed him out?

Hoseok sighs. At this stage, he is already getting the magazine cover taken from him, so what does he care if he loses everything else? He has already been paid for his time, and most of the Dior goodies are in his bedroom.

Hoseok I don't really care, honestly. It would be a blessing to never have to see his stupid face again. 

Jimin Fuck it. Call him.

"Fuck it," Hoseok says to himself. 

He thumbs through his phone, finds Yoongi's contact and calls him. As the phone rings, Hoseok stands up, stumbling from the way blood rushes to his head. He feels antsy, and with each dial tone the phone makes, his anticipation and anger build. 

The call goes to voicemail, infuriating Hoseok, who hangs up. He is not eager to vent to the cloud where Yoongi can have access to his anger any time he pleases. He needs to do it where the man can hear it in real-time. 

Hoseok paces around his living room, drunken rage coursing through his veins. He considers calling Yoongi back when his phone begins to ring. 

As soon as Hoseok answers the call, he opens with, "I'm quitting."

His mind is made up, there is no backing down; no way in hell he would consider allowing Yoongi to continue to torment him. 

After a pause, Yoongi asks, "Hoseok…what is this about?"

"I heard you before I left," Hoseok says, words slurring a bit. "I heard you telling that pretty bitch that you were going to give her the cover instead of me! I'm not tolerating this kind of treatment! All because you wanted to kiss me? This is fucking ridiculous!" 

"Hoseok," Yoongi says calmly, "are you at home? Can we talk in person?"

Hoseok scoffs and shakes his head. "You are insane if you think I ever want to see you again."

"I don't want to do this over the phone, Hoseok. I'm coming over. Be there in ten."

"I said no!" Hoseok shouts, stomping his foot like an angry child. "You don't get to just push people around, Yoongi! No means no!"

"Hoseok," Yoongi sighs. "I'm not giving your magazine cover away. I'm putting Sunmi on the next issue. The one after yours."

Hoseok stops in his tracks and mulls over Yoongi's words. His voice is much softer as he says, "But you used the word instead."

"Instead of another model who was slated to be next. I changed my mind."

With a huff, Hoseok stares at the wall. He has no idea what to say, but he is not eager to back down from his threat of quitting. 

"Please let me come talk to you about this."

Hoseok sighs, squeezes his eyes closed, and mutters, "Fine."

"Good," Yoongi says. "I'm already halfway there."

"You're insufferable," Hoseok mutters, surprised when Yoongi chuckles. 

"I know." There is a pause, and Yoongi says, "Be there soon."

"Fine," Hoseok responds before ending the call. 

He makes quick work of rinsing and recycling his soju bottles, making a little too much noise in his inebriated state, and he picks up stray clothing that had been left in the middle of the living room floor, chucking it unceremoniously to his bedroom floor instead. 

By the time Hoseok returns to the living room, Yoongi is calling again. 

Hoseok accepts the call and grunts, "Hmm?"

"Let me into the building," Yoongi says. 

"Wow, no please?"

"Pretty please?" Yoongi teases.

Hoseok shuffles over to the call box near his door and presses a button. Through the phone, he can hear the front door buzzing, followed by the sound of Yoongi letting himself in. 

"Second floor, apartment 222."

"I know," Yoongi responds nonchalantly.

"If you know then why did you call? You could have just buzzed from the box outside."

Yoongi hums and Hoseok closes his eyes, listening to the deep, rough sound accompanied by the creaking sounds of footsteps traveling up the old wooden stairs.

"I know," he says. "But this way, I can hear your voice."

Curse the stupid little butterflies in Hoseok's stupid little tummy. He rolls his eyes at Yoongi's confession and does his best to play it cool.

"You're literally going to hear my voice when you get to my apartment."

"Lucky me," Yoongi responds in a tone that is far too playful for Hoseok's own good. 

Realization hits that Yoongi is just outside Hoseok's door, and his anxiety spikes. His plan backfired in the worst possible way, and now he is moments away from having his handsome boss inside his apartment while he wears an oversized white t-shirt and very short baby blue pajama shorts, barefoot and on the outskirts of feeling drunk.

Three soft knocks cause Hoseok to stare at the door. His fight-or-flight instincts kick in, and he considers playing dead rather than opening it. 

"You gonna let me in?" Yoongi asks, and Hoseok hangs up the call and then twists the front door knob, pulling it open.

Yoongi wears a black bomber jacket over a brown sweater, with blue jeans and black sneakers. He smiles softly while taking in Hoseok's appearance, then cocks his head and asks, "Have you been drinking?"

Hoseok scoffs, mutters, "Nice to see you, too," and turns to get away from the door. 

"Don't be like this," Yoongi grumbles as he lets himself inside, closes the door, and toes out of his shoes. 

Hoseok attempts to hold his ground, standing with his hands on his hips while glaring at Yoongi. But Yoongi reaches for Hoseok's wrist, giving it a gentle tug, causing Hoseok to completely unravel and stumble forward. 

"You're not going to talk me out of quitting," Hoseok mutters playfully.

"I'm not here as your boss," Yoongi says as he gently takes Hoseok by the chin and pulls him close. 

"Then what are you doing?" Hoseok asks. "Why are you here?"

Yoongi's other hand wraps around Hoseok's waist, palm splaying warm across his lower back, pulling him even closer. A gasp tumbles from Hoseok's lips, arms hanging frozen to his sides as Yoongi smiles and very slowly slots their lips together. 

Hoseok does not move at first, too dumbfounded by the soft, warm press of Yoongi against him. But when he does finally open his mouth, Yoongi darts his tongue inside, making Hoseok whimper. 

He has no idea how he ends up with his back against the wall, fingers gripping tightly to the sleeves of Yoongi's jacket, but he sighs as Yoongi presses against him, slotting a leg between his and dancing his fingertips down his neck. Yoongi kisses slow and deep, groaning into Hoseok in low, pretty notes, making his fucking head spin. 

Then Yoongi breaks the kiss, takes a step back, and asks, "Soju?"

"Yeah," Hoseok mutters, rubbing the back of his hand over his mouth.

"How much have you had to drink," Yoongi asks, delicately lowering Hoseok's hand from his mouth. 

He stands close enough that Hoseok feels as if the only oxygen he inhales is what Yoongi gives him from his own lungs. 

"Enough to call my boss and tell him that I quit."

"What does that translate to in number of bottles?"

Hoseok feels shy as he says, "Three."

Yoongi hums and nods, then takes a step back. "I apologize. I shouldn't kiss you while you are drunk."

"I'm not drunk," Hoseok mutters, eager to feel Yoongi's warmth against him again. 

"Look…to be honest, I guess I did come here as your boss," Yoongi says, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. "To ask you not to quit…and to talk you out of it, in case you felt like being stubborn."

"Ah," Hoseok mutters, frustrated. "So you opened with a kiss to soften me up and make me do what you want."

Yoongi's gaze sharpens, and he tips his head to the side. "I opened with a kiss because I wanted to kiss you, Hoseok. It's pretty clear that we've both wanted it."

"What happened to telling me that we can't do this?" Hoseok knows he is pushing Yoongi's buttons, and he does not wait for a response, just nods and shrugs, continuing, "Well you got what you wanted. I won't quit, alright? Now we can pretend this never happened and go back to having a work only relationship."

Yoongi slowly blinks. "You want to pretend this never happened?"

With a sigh, Hoseok kicks from the wall, arms wrapped tight around his middle. He feels cold, and he wants to return to the fuzzy blanket on his couch. 

"I'm not going to let you flirt with me just to get what you want," Hoseok says, avoiding eye contact with Yoongi. "You're not going to use me the way you use the others."

"I don't plan to use you," Yoongi responds defensively. 

"Good. Whatever." Hoseok grabs the blanket on the couch and wraps it over his shoulders. The tan material is soft and cool, but it quickly warms from his body heat. "Well, you win. I'm not quitting. Is that all?"

Yoongi swallows visibly, watching Hoseok. Then he shrugs and says, "Yeah. That's all."

"Alright, well, good night, Yoongi."

Yoongi sighs. "Good night, Hoseok."

Hoseok watches as Yoongi turns to put his shoes back on. He takes his time untying each one, sliding his foot in, and tying it. Then he stands up straight, reaches for the door, and hesitates. 

Part of Hoseok wishes Yoongi would ask for another kiss. Or lunge forward and claim his lips without asking. But he is glad when he does not.

"I think I'm going to take a personal day tomorrow," Yoongi says, "so consider it a day off."

"Alright," Hoseok responds. 

"Not a punishment or anything…I just have a lot of work to catch up on with this upcoming issue."

"Okay."

"Plan to come in as usual on Wednesday."

"Sounds good."

"If I call," Yoongi hesitates, eyes falling to the floor, "will you answer?"

"Yeah," Hoseok admits. Of course, he would.

"Alright. Bye, Hoseok."

Yoongi opens the door and steps out, and under his breath, Hoseok mutters, "Bye."

woof okay, i was not planning on making this chapter so fricken long but i had 8k words of utter nonsense before honoring everything in the outline, and then one thing led to another, and here we are. 😅 the length isn't even what slowed this down tho lmao i wrote a little over half of it just yesterday.

more coming soon!!! comments & reblogs will make me want to work on it faster! likes are always so so appreciated!!! thank you so much for reading!!!

tag list: @codeinebelle @dasexydevitt13 @fluffybuns69 @giriiboyy @idkjustlovingbts @itsmina29 @mgthecat @moonleeai @m1sss1mp @spookyminyunki 📸

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Showstopper is copyright 2022 - 2024 theharrowing, all rights reserved.

[broskilit]

Me in my streamer DR...

Sparklers. convertibles. a clear sunny day with warm rain. fresh book smell. sunglasses. skipping school. iced coffee. dewy grass. converse. sipping cheap vodka with no mixer. 21 jump street. kareoke. hoodies with paint on them. setting hairspray on fire. a fattt blunt. constellations. bright red. peaches. rich soil. sweet tea. retro cameras. mixed media videos. action comedies. scrapes & blisters. cognac queen.

ib by this post im lowkey obsessed w

[carlyyyyxbishhop]

Love me like I haven't changed // Shayne Topp // 2

Me: immediately posts part two lmao

part two // Kate

I looked out at the gloomy ocean, the wind whipping my hair in every direction. I smiled slightly looking at the waves crashing in front of me, appreciating the sheer beauty of it. It was late January, and even though everyone had told me LA was always warm, winter was still quite chilly.

I pulled my jumper over my head and threw it on the ground beside me. My pants were next, thrown onto the pile of my belongings. Off I went, towards the deep blue. 

The water was cold on my feet as I reached the shore, I let myself close my eyes for a second to feel it. Slowly, I walked until the water touched my stomach… and then I dove under. At first, I was overcome with cold, until I wasn’t. I came back up to the surface and pushed the hair from my face with a smile. And there I floated for a second, my back to the beach, looking out at the open ocean. I felt my heart beating in my chest as the water pulled me back and forth softly. 

This Saturday morning tradition was something I had grown to look forward to in my busy weeks. It was something that I had been doing since I moved to the sunny state, something that I couldn’t do in the middle of nowhere Colorado. It made my 9 to 5 weekdays feel like a blur and made me forget I was living paycheck to paycheck, just trying to make it work.

I made my way back to the beach, looking quickly at the people around me. The beach was quite empty for a Saturday morning. I attributed it to the overcast weather and looming grey clouds. 

Something caught my eye however. A man was sat on top of the stairs looking over the beach. As I looked toward him, he quickly looked away. I continued to look at the man, he wore activewear and had obviously just finished running. 

I pulled my pants on quickly and threw my jumper over my head, not minding the fact that I was soaking wet. Saturday was laundry day anyway.

With my bag over my shoulder, I made my way up the stairs the man was sitting on. I averted my gaze, making sure I didn’t look at him as I passed him.

“Isn’t it a bit cold to be swimming?” He asks as I walk past him. I stop suddenly, not expecting the stranger to have spoken.

“Not really, once you dive in you don’t really feel it.” I shrugged, still trying not to look at the man.

“I don’t know, it seems like one of those things people do at those intense gyms. Like a cold plunge.” He continues. I finally look at him for a second before looking away again.

“I think doing a cold plunge implies working out, which I do not do.” I reply, to which he laughs.

“Maybe I’ll try it next time I’m here, I never think to swim at the beach.” He admits, still chuckling slightly.

“Isn’t that the main purpose of the beach?” I ask, not trying to sound as sarcastic as I do.

“I… uh… yeah I guess,” He looks away, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Sorry, I don’t always mean to sound so blunt, it just kind of happens,” I feel bad for making the guy nervous.

“No, no, you’re right. Sorry, I just, uh, yeah,” He rambles on. I truly feel sorry for the guy, I’m not easy to talk to.

“What’s your name?” I ask, trying to change the subject.

“Shayne, and you?”

“Kate,” I reply before turning to look at him again, “Well Shayne, if you want to experience the beach in all its glory come back next week and you can partake in my Saturday tradition.”

He smiles, “I will Kate, it was nice meeting you.”

“Likewise,” I reply and turn to walk away. I smile to myself slightly as I walk along the concrete path. Since moving to LA I hadn’t really made friends with anyone outside of work. Maybe I had just met my first friend.

[exaltededge]

@videcoeur

He should have known better. The weather lady said it was the calmest time of the year and to expect a sunny day. When Crocodile saw the grey clouds, he debated bringing an umbrella. His endless optimism made him decide against it. He wanted to believe the weather forecast. After an entire day out and about, he was to meet Mihawk at a restaurant, where they would enjoy fine dining, wine tasting, and the quiet tranquillity of a VIP backroom. Indulging in the finest things was one of his favorite hobbies, one he was, dare he say, glad he could share with another man of class like Mihawk. Unfortunately, he was a sopping wet beast when he reached the restaurant, and so was Mihawk, apparently. They'd both arrived at almost the same time but from different directions. Golden eyes peered at his business partner inquisitively. The white blouse beneath the black coat clung to the other's chest nicely, but he wouldn't be caught dead staring at Mihawk's bosoms. "Should we reschedule?" Curse this small city and its zero means of transportation beside one's legs. That said, he really didn't mind the view of a soaking-wet swordsman.

As inconveniencing as the rain is coming all this way and not drinking would be more bothersome than soaked clothes. Dracule has spent the better part of the day finishing mundane chores and reestablishing contacts before his reluctant rein as warlord; Yoru absent from his back, her size more hinderance outside of battle ... particularly with doors.

"I'd rather not." He sucks his teeth stepping under the restaurant's narrow awning, it doing very little to stop the downpour that's already soaked through his overcoat. Fingers pluck at the translucent fabric of his blouse, unusually bare chest taking the blunt of the water from his long walk across town. The swordsman makes a note to purchase a more robust wardrobe, if this damnable Cross Guild Crocodile wants to build has any life span moving from island to island will take it's toll on his expensive collection.

Eye's slide from his shirt to Crocodile, a single brow arching slightly. "Water will not ruin the rest of my evening, join me if you wish." Shifting his weight forward Dracule climbs the single cobble stone step to the restaurant's opening where he is promptly greeted by a neatly dressed hostess. Inside dark painted brick stands on the far supporting sides, a wooden statement wall resembling a topographic map curves like stacked rivers in the warm, intimate ceiling lights. Tables are simple dressed with several glasses, utensils and grey fabric napkins, guest quietly chatting amongst themselves a few giving him a passing glance. Hands already moving to remove his coat and fold it over a bent arm with his hat then sat atop it.

"Right this way sir, your room has already been stocked with warm towels and coffee."

[chatgptwritesfanfiction]

Unexpected Bluntness

It was another typical day at Outer Banks High School, where JJ Maybank and his group of friends, known as the Pogues, roamed the halls with their own brand of mischief. JJ's girlfriend, (Y/N), was a new addition to the group, having transferred to the school a few months ago. She possessed a striking combination of beauty, intelligence, and a wicked sense of humor. However, there was one aspect of her personality that often raised eyebrows—her brutal bluntness.

(Y/N) never minced her words and spoke her mind without a second thought. She didn't believe in sugarcoating things and often delivered harsh truths with an air of nonchalance. This trait had earned her a reputation for being rude among the students at Outer Banks High. The Pogues, who were used to their fair share of rough edges, couldn't help but feel the same way about her.

JJ was torn between his loyalty to his friends and his affection for (Y/N). He knew they just didn't understand her yet. Determined to bridge the gap, he devised a plan to bring her along to their hangout spot, the Chateau, and reveal that she was his girlfriend. JJ hoped that seeing their bond would help his friends understand (Y/N) better.

On a sunny Saturday afternoon, the Pogues gathered at the Chateau, a hidden treasure they had discovered together. The old mansion, with its creaky floors and faded glamour, had become a sanctuary for the group. They were laughing and sharing stories, basking in the warm summer breeze.

As the conversation flowed, JJ's eyes twinkled with anticipation. He glanced over at (Y/N), who was sitting beside him, engrossed in her book. With a mischievous smile, JJ cleared his throat to get everyone's attention.

"Hey, guys," he began, his voice carrying a mix of excitement and nerves. "I have someone I want you all to meet." He gestured to (Y/N) and continued, "This is (Y/N), my girlfriend."

The Pogues turned their heads, their eyes widening in surprise. Sarah was the first to speak, her voice filled with curiosity. "Wait, she's your girlfriend?"

John B, trying to wrap his head around the revelation, added, "Since when? Why didn't you tell us?"

JJ grinned and answered, "It's been a few months now, and I wanted to make sure we were solid before I dropped the bomb. But here she is, my beautiful, blunt queen."

(Y/N) chuckled at JJ's words and raised an eyebrow at her new audience. "Nice to officially meet you all," she said, her voice laced with her usual directness.

Kie, still processing the news, couldn't help but blurt out, "We thought you were just some rude girl at school!"

The Pogues exchanged glances, realizing that their initial judgment had been misplaced. (Y/N) was much more than just a rude girl; she was the person who held JJ's heart.

"I understand why you might have thought that," (Y/N) replied, her expression softening. "I'm not one to hold back, but I promise I have JJ's best interests at heart. I'm fiercely loyal to him and to all of you now."

The tension in the air dissolved as everyone began to relax, their initial reservations giving way to understanding. They saw the love between JJ and (Y/N), recognizing the strength of their bond.

Pope, always the peacemaker, spoke up, "Well, we trust JJ, and if he's chosen you, then we'll give you a chance. Welcome to the Pogues, (Y/N)."

One by one, the Pogues nodded in agreement, signaling their acceptance of (Y/N) into their tight-knit group. From that day forward, (Y/N)'s bluntness became a celebrated trait rather than a point of contention. The Pogues realized that her honesty was a gift, a refreshing change from the pretenses of the world they lived in.

As the summer days continued to unfold, the Pogues and (Y/N) formed an unbreakable bond, built on trust, adventure, and their shared love for JJ. Together, they faced the challenges that came their way, knowing that they were stronger as a united front.

And so, (Y/N) became more than just JJ Maybank's girlfriend; she became an essential part of the Pogues, a beacon of truth in their unpredictable world.

note: i really don't think this makes any sense

[furrbbyx]

The Orc’s Obsession: Epilogue

If you haven’t seen this part on A03 then you’re going to be very happy to see it now. 

I plan to continue this story with a new Yan: (Y/N)

heheheheeehhahahhahaahhohohohoo

Anyway. Get caught up with the ending details and get ready for a new chapter.

cw: crying, court proceedings, reeducation camp, nightmares, PTSD, murderous rage, maladaptive daydreaming, nightmares come true, stalker returns

approx 700 words

You clutch at your father and best friend weeping, with your head burried in Kalani's shoulder. Around the room is entirely dark except for the harshly lite dais and the dimly lite shadow figures standing in a row in front of the accused.

The figures have just pronounced Bagul's guilt and punishment in a resonating echoing mix of their five voices. Two police materialized and took Bagul to meet his fate and reassignment at the hands of the mysterious overlords that governed.

You shut your eyes tight hoping to avoid Bagul's glare even though he can hardly see through the solid darkness that hid the jury and audience.

The nightmare is finally over.

Much of your life is back to normal for months following the trial. You start to build back your trust in people but maybe your avoidant tendencies have grown stronger. It's hard to connect with others.

Happiness returns after you're officially sure your orc kidnapper hasn't bred you. You cry for days after that weight has lifted. You still have harsh scars from the ordeal. Any normal person would. Yet, there's a surreal quality to your memories that confuses you. Sometimes you wake up with your heart beating and you honestly can't tell if you were having a wet dream or a bad one.

Sometimes you ache and tremble when you think about the intense orgasms, and the heart-exploding dash for your life. Bagul's spraying blood is the backdrop to fantasies that send cold fear rippling up your spine. If Kalani hadn't come would you really have tried something more permanent to deal with the orc?

How would I hide the body?

Those intrusive thoughts are where you draw the line, shaking your head to clear the murderous daydreams.

Nearly a year passes and you readjust so well that you're feeling healthier and more in control of your anger and bloodlust everyday.

The season was changing from the hot long nights of summer to the unpredictably cool ones of fall. But today is bright and sunny and warm, the wind still smells like freshy mowed grass. You walk into your job. Even though the customers can really try your patience at the small drink shop you're feeling so good that no Karen could ruin it. Someone waves at you enthusiastically after a few steps inside. You don't know the person but you raise your hand awkwardly to return the greeting when a shiver rolls over your skin.

"Babe!" the waver, a tall thin woman with a blunt geometric haircut, crop, top and oversized jeans squeals in a babyish tone. She's prancing toward you when you hear someone behind you clear their throat and then step past you to hug the woman.

The bulky body  of the person behind you pushes you out of the way and you clutch your bag in terror.

"Hey sweetie" The orc lifts up the woman causing delighted yelps and nuzzles her before looking over and shooting you the most heated challenging glare you'd ever seen. You felt melted to the spot sweat tricking down your back. Everything about him throws you off from his bald head to a few new piercings and silver bands on his tusks. He's dressed in all black, bulky ill fitting clothing and his beard is tied in two braids down the side of his protruding jawline.

HOW! your mind cries out trying to come to terms with the possibilities, with this new reality. Bagul should be kilometers away being retaught how to function as a productive and rule-abiding member of society.  And he definitely shouldn't be anywhere near your job

"Oh my GOSH I'm so glad you're out! I missed you!"

"Heh" Bagul chuckles putting down the woman. He grasps her shoulder and they walk towards the exit.

"Without you to keep me sane I never woulda got out on good behavior."

You're still standing in the middle of the shop dazed and utterly overcome by flashes of your kidnapping. Your mind seems to short out and a strong sense of fight or flight wracks your body before it settles in the pit of your stomach as a fight response tinged with rage and desperation. The indigestion of it all feels like the worst heartburn.

"Why were you in there anyways?"

"Ah nothin too bad...." The voices float away but your confusion, anxiety, and raw fear stays. You're suspended as your mind spirals, trapped again like you were back at the cabin.

NO! Please!

NO! another voice inside you growls furiously. You snap with an over-loud maniacal laugh that turns shrill and hysterical.

I wont let him get to me, you vow and clench your fists tight enough to make them ache.

I'll kill him first

[beantothemax]

What was supposed to be an innocent prank escalated to... This.

He screamed and pounded on the door till his lungs and hands hurt. Normally, he could tolerate getting locked outside. But it was the rainy season. What would have otherwise been a perfectly sunny day was cold, wet and dark.

“Dad! Let me in!” Partitio cried.

His father pretended not to hear him and didn’t open the door. Finally, Partitio gave up. He fell to the doorstep. No sound left his mouth as he cried. He had already torn his throat to shreds, shrieking to be let inside, just breathing hurt.

Why was his father like this? A disagreement over a joke turned to an argument, which turned to a beating and ended with Partitio sitting outside in the rain. Ever since his mother passed, his father had been acting strange. First he impulse bought several acres of land, then he took out every negative emotion on him. He was all Partitio had, there was no one he could go to for help, no mother to defend him during arguments.

At the thought, he got an idea and made his way down the hill to town. No one else was out at this hour or in this weather. All the houses had shut curtains with a faint yellow glow behind them. How wonderful it must be to sit in a warm house.

Partitio was interrupted mid thought. He yelped before looking down, seeing a sharp rock under his foot. It was too blunt to draw blood, but sharp enough that it ached. Great. Just what he needed. More tears trickled down his face as he walked the final few steps to the house. He knocked on the door several times and waited patiently.

Roque answered the door. His confusion at having a visitor now was quickly replaced by concern.

“My goodness Partitio, what’re you doing in the rain without shoes or a jacket?” he asked as he ushered the boy inside.

Partitio wiped his feet on the welcome mat while Roque left. He returned with a towel and started drying him. But the towel quickly got soaked as Partitio’s clothes were still dripping.

He mumbled some kind of response that Roque couldn’t hear.

“Louder, my boy. My hearing isn’t quite what it used to be.”

“My pops locked me outside.”

Papp did… what? Roque hardly believed what he heard, and even asked him to repeat it again.

“My pops locked me outside,” Partitio repeated.

He sat him down on the couch and fetched a blanket and a mug.

“I was just having some tea myself, so it’s still hot,” he said.

Partitio blew on it and took a sip as Roque spoke.

“Do you know why your dad locked you outside? Was he upset?” Roque questioned.

He wanted to believe Partitio exaggerated or misspoke.

“I poured water on him as a prank, and he yelled at me,” Partitio started, his voice barely louder than a whisper, “I kept sayin’ he was overreactin’ so he hit me. After a bit then he got angrier and said I wasn’t allowed inside.”

Right. His friend really had locked his own kid outside. Perhaps he needed to reevaluate the people he considered friends.

“I see,” Roque said.

He stood and paced around the room while trying to figure out what to do. But to Partitio’s scared child mind, Roque was upset. Maybe he said something wrong or he got too much water and mud all over Roque’s floor. All he knew was that there was a problem he needed to fix, unless he wanted Roque to hurt him the same way his father had.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Roque looked at him, “what for?”

“I dunno, you seemed angry.”

“I’m not angry, just thinking,” Roque replied.

Gods, what had Papp done to that kid?

“You wait here Partitio, I’ll speak with your father,” he said.

“Please don’t say anything that’ll get me in more trouble,” Partitio replied.

“Of course not.”

As Roque left the house, his mind raced with a million furious thoughts of what to tell Papp. Honestly, he was tempted to kill the man. Surely Papp was not human if he had it in him to hurt such a young and helpless child. But he pushed the thought aside, as the logical part of his brain reminded him that homicide was worse than child abuse. Not by a lot though.

Partitio stared thoughtlessly at the crackling fire in the hearth. Roque’s home was pleasant. It was warm. The blanket he borrowed was soft. The searing pain in his throat lingered, but had started to fade after nearly half a cup of tea. He put it on the coffee table and lay his head on the armrest. The fire was good, it kept him warm. He dozed off as he stared at it.

The man that held him wore a damp shirt. He weakly opened his eyes to see mister Roque.

“Oh, you’re awake. I was just carrying you to the guest room. You’re staying with me tonight,” he smiled.

“What about my pops?” Partitio yawned.

“I think he’ll be better tomorrow. We can talk to him together,” Roque said as he placed the boy on the bed.

With the same gentleness one would expect from a parent, he tucked him in and stroked his hair.

“Your father was just in a bad mood, you didn’t do anything to deserve the things he did,” Roque said softly.

“But I poured water on him,” Partitio argued.

“You’re just a kid. He should never hit you. If he does, then you come straight to me, and I’ll take care of it,” Roque smiled.

“Ok, goodnight mister Roque.”

“Goodnight Partitio.”

He shut the door behind him, leaving the boy alone in the dark room. Roque sat in his armchair as he poured himself a cup of tea. He furrowed his brows as he stared at the fire. It was strange finding out such a dear friend had been a monster all this time. He needed to save Partitio from that damned man, no matter what it took.

ok yeah I understand why you said this would make me mad! what the fuck papp!!!! the hell!!!!!!

I always like seeing roque not being a piece of garbage. he may be a cutthroat capitalist but he’s a good dad

also. is this part of that ‘partitio goes with roque and becomes an asshole capitalist’ au you sent an ask about a while back?

this is good! good as in it makes me angry to read it (in a good way!)

[scarlettundrhett]

a temporary abundance by fleet_off

Relationship: Vegas/Pete

Words: 1070

We don't know Vegas like that.

Vegas suffers, Vegas makes suffer. We know Vegas angry, broken, crying, grinning his predatory smile.

But Vegas on a sunny morning together with Pete, relaxed, redeemed and peaceful, that's not how we know Vegas, but that's how we want to know and love him.

Saturday morning settles over them in languid golden hues and the scent of fresh congee on the stove, glutinous and savory. They make a drawn-out affair of their breakfast simply because they can, because Macau doesn’t wake up until noon on weekends and because it feels nice to exchange inconsequential words between bites of porridge and sips of rich dark coffee.

Paradise can sometimes be just a moment, a morning when time stands still.

Such a golden moment we have always wished for Vegas and Pete. They are the couple that has seen only longing, regret, blood and and death. Get some rest!

Death has always been powerful in the lives of both. A bodyguard lives to die instead of his master. Vegas was the frontline soldier of the family, everyone is puzzled why he is not dead yet.

Life used to be the means to a messy end, bodies tools given in service to a name larger than either of them. They are still learning what it means to live for living’s sake, to be made of flesh and openly want for all the things living flesh wants. It hurts because it matters. Such is living, and there is joy in being alive.

They sit on the couch together after their meal, the food a warm weight in Pete’s stomach. Pleasant soreness, the mark of the well-used and well-loved, curls in his wrists and the backs of his thighs. He feels the urge to flex and stretch, but his head is hazy with the indolent catlike sleepiness that comes with satiety--he does not want to lift it from Vegas’s thigh.

Fleet_off is a magician. He stops time and we hold our breath. We see only Vegas and Pete lying on the sofa on a sunny morning. The past suffering is not faded out, it is not magicked away, but it has lost its dark power.

There are days, too, when the emotions go numb and dead in Pete’s chest and he can only puppet himself with wire-jointed fingers and a painted-on smile no matter how Vegas tugs at his strings to bring him back. Days when Vegas locks himself in the cage of his own brain and takes the keys with him, leaving Pete to batter his fists bloody against an unresponsive steel door. (…) Today, they’re in one of those temperate stretches where they’re both human and present enough to be good to themselves and each other, their silences familiar instead of fraught.

Then comes a passage that has sparked a semantic discussion in reader comments about the use of the word "pretty“. Unfortunately, I'm not a native speaker to guess at all the secondary meanings of the word. Don't people call men pretty? Is there an underlying pejorative message when one does?

Pretty, Pete thinks but doesn’t say. Vegas wouldn’t appreciate that specific compliment--is sensitive, sometimes. There’s probably a wound there that Pete hasn’t yet picked open. Someday he will find it, either by chance or by willful design, and will probe with blunted fingernails underneath Vegas’s skin to fish out whatever lead or rusted blade hides underneath this particular bit of damage. Once he has done that, once he has kissed what is torn and licked him clean again--only then will he tell Vegas that sometimes he freezes Pete’s breath in his throat just by how pretty he is. But they are enjoying a quiet morning, today, so he can find other ways to express the sentiment.

The author works his magic, we let ourselves be enchanted and wish the couple the happiness of normality on the sofa with a teenager, Macau, who endures all the tenderness with the annoyed but loving disregard that only teenagers can show.

[frankbedbroken]

frankcore april 2024 update!!

monthly playlist, monthly post, sorry i'm too twitterpilled and i tend to be stingy with reblogs here idk. anyhow, this month's update is even more guitar music heavy than the last one, and i can't say i'm very happy about it!!!!! (/lh /hj i'm just mad because i spent years shitting on rock while simultaneously listening to rock and other adjacent genres and now people can call me out for it) it also doesn't help that this is my messiest month in terms of structure of the playlist and track selection, though there are some patterns in here.

for one, there's a fair bit of indie pop, specifically twee pop for the most part but with a few outliers such as hazards by great area, (which is more in line with the whole hypnagogic pop sound of artists like dean blunt and lolina (fka inga copeland), latter of which owns the label that song was released on, but also with some trip hop influences) and follow the light by broadcast (more ambient pop-esque than some of their other tracks i've heard, bit more hypnotic both in atmosphere and theme, i would say). of course, you've got heavenly, one of the most important acts related to the twee sound, then there's the softies that (as far as i can tell, i'm not actually super knowledgeable in the genre still lol) go in a more subdued direction with not as much punk influences as other acts like the aforementioned heavenly or another sunny day, and last but not least, my irl friends' band: cosas raras pasarán! it's been around a year and a half or so of going to every gig they've done so far, seeing them evolving and honing their craft as time has gone on, and i couldn't be happier to see them finally releasing at least a bit of what they've done so far to the public at large, it warms my heart and i'm very excited for whatever comes in the future <3 this last point leads me to the next subset of tracks i'd like to single out: there's a bit more music from my country as well this time around! firstly, sandwiched in between the twee pop tracks at the start of the playlist (this sorting-by-bpm approach is not working as well as i would like, turns out), ¿quién me defenderá de tu belleza? by amigovio, solo project from the former lead singer of indie pop group carmen sandiego, where it's mainly taking cues from synthpop and adjacent sounds, reminding me a bit of the approach javiera mena had towards pop and indie intersections during the esquemas juveniles era (very much a positive). and secondly, kira1312 and guitarbaby's fastcar, a very solid pop rap / r&b crossover with production that feels very in line with a lot of the edm trap sounds around the mid-2010s, think artists like sam gellaitry or monte booker, which is something that feels very unique and singular in the scene, it's a style that's definitely guitarbaby's own and it makes me interested in whatever she's dropping in the future. as for the pop and r&b side, occupying a large chunk on the list also: a folky and classical influenced art pop / singer-songwriter offering from clarissa connelly (the whole album is pretty damn good, but the opening track here is straight up stunning); delightful k-pop and city pop crossover from loona's spiritual subunit artms (essentially a rework of haseul's plastic candy from last year, which was one of my favourite tracks from that year, but a very welcome flip still); the lead single off of tinashe's upcoming project, a sequel to last year's excellent bb//ang3l, and heading in the direction of the club-ready trap knocks of needs from that album; submerged house and r&b from dawn richard with impossibly memorable vocal snippets (that "do you love me... anymore..." vocal got stuck in my head for the whole month after it came up on shuffle) and atmospheric production; a taste of ms. xcx's upcoming album and a very obvious addition to this month's list, i mean, come on, it's charli AND gesaffelstein on production, of course i'm going to love it; the comeback of the ever mysterious and ellusive r&b vocalist clara la san, once again delivering on her particular blend of cloudy, ambient-like production and wispy yet alluring vocals; a very solid blend of modern 2-step production with synthwork and melodies that draw inspiration from 80s sophisti-pop and contemporary r&b from bautibit; and finally a crossover of pop, footwork and accelerated funk br from duda beat, genre globetrotter that still manages to bring everything together well for catchy and compelling pop compositions.

over on the electronic side: a woozy collage of r&b idioms, dubby atmospheres, ragga vocals and broken drum beats, courtesy of the seekersinternational crew (their no parasites ep from last year is almost always in rotation for me, it's just absolutely gripping stuff for me); the comeback of mr. jamie xx, finally rolling out stuff for the release of his upcoming album, featuring an impossibly charming old-school house groove accompanied by some classic horns and vocal chops; psychedelic breakbeat to hope for a better tomorrow while seeing the sunrise to from vegyn and lauren auder; and finally mind-blowingly complex post-everything-club sound design from fitnesss (hopefully a teaser for an upcoming LP? pretty please?) and lag switch as well as little snake.

elsewhere: a couple of tracks from the new british rock / punk scene that nerds on the internet love to talk about, represented by fontaines dc and black midi; my favourite drain gang related track of the month and the competition was pretty tough believe it or not considering all they dropped during the month (it was a tossup between tldr and the track bladee and ecco did with varg2™, ultimately picked the former because it's crazy to hear ecco rap again after a long time); wonderfully jangly yet somber and melancholic midwest emo from germany, courtesy of the short-lived group 125 rue montmartre; and finally, probably the most baffling inclusion on the list, suffocate by knocked loose and poppy, i think this might be the first time i have anything metal related on these lists, but i don't know, this one just really works for me: it's rhythmically super interesting and engaging (the reggaeton breakdown!!!!) and the vocals hit that sweet spot for me where i find the tone of the screams appealing, which is sort of a make-or-break when it comes to this kinda stuff for me.

non-dsp available highlight of the month is 90 down the block by xaviersobased, i'm still yet to hear a full project from his but i can definitely understand the hype behind him, in the way that he incorporates the rhythms of late 2000s rap into more modern plugg and cloud rap production, all wrapped together into a dizzyingly loose and carefree sound that's incredibly interesting

tube it!!!

[lexalotli]

Lone orc girl meets elf girl in woods (pt. 1)

It wasn’t a dark and stormy night, but rather a sunny afternoon with no chance of rain in sight. The weather didn’t matter to Amira because whatever the weather, she was still bad at fishing. Orcs typically went after large game like moose, elk, and sometimes grizzly bears to keep up their diet of almost exclusively meat and zero vegetables. She’d never really met any other orcs or even other half orcs, so she wasn’t really sure if the tales were true or made up by humans wanting to scare their children into behaving. Regardless, Amira couldn’t kill a bear with her bare hands or cut the jugular of a deer with her tusks. So, she stuck to fishing.

The little stream ran, vein-like through the forest, bringing along with it small fish. Amira sat on the riverbank, her fishing line lazily trailing in the water, her thoughts drifting as aimlessly as the current. She mostly thought about the intricacies of preparing and cooking fish, how she would season it. Could you eat the skin?

Amira thought of fellow travelers who seemed to have no qualms about eating the skin, the innards, and even the eyes. She couldn't fathom the idea of swallowing fish eyeballs, but she was willing to try it once if it meant getting a proper meal. At that, her fishing rod twitched in its place. Amira perked up, going to pull in her first catch. It took some struggle, the small fish apparently still having the will to live. However, she finally managed to pull it out of the water, but only after falling off her perch and into the dirt below.

“I don’t mean to say I’m a fishing expert, but I’m a fishing expert,” she said, dusting herself off and inspecting her catch with a satisfied grin.

A toad croaked in response. It was a tough crowd today.

Amira caught herself two more fishes to keep as rations for the next few days, before she started a small fire and clumsily prepared them into something that could loosely be called edible. She ate without much preamble, tusks tearing into meat and patches of skin that were left behind. Amira was so lost in her frenzy that she didn’t notice that she’d also eaten her rations for tomorrow, only interrupted by the fact that she had nothing left to eat.

The same toad croaked, as if to rebuke her for her lack of foresight and control. Amira let out a brutish grunt, something she’d normally feel shame about, but it did the job of scaring the toad back into the stream.

The sun was still setting, casting the forest in a pale yellow light that was just enough to see by. Perhaps Amira could catch a few more fish before it got too dark. Humming, Amira cast her line yet again, catching a glance at her reflection in the stream. The appearance of pointed ears, small tusks, and dark green skin stared back at her. Amira looked away from the face that not even a mother could love. At least, not a human mother. She shook her head and focused on the task at hand—not starving to death. Self pity didn’t fill her stomach, after all.

By the time the sun disappeared behind the trees, Amira had caught four more fish, built up her campfire, and even took a much needed bath. She finally settled down on her bedroll, using her cloak as a blanket. The night was even pleasant and warm, and the stars blinked awake one by one to tell her good night.

The evening was perfect, too perfect. It was only natural that something had to ruin it.

Amira had only been asleep for a few moments when a rustling in the bushes had her reaching for her axe. She hoped whatever was in the bushes was something she could fight off with an old, blunt axe and not a sword. She didn’t own a sword, nor could she wield one. Amira wasn’t sure she could wield her hatchet effectively against an opponent (trees certainly didn’t count).

So, she stood there, grasping the handle of the axe, and forced her face into a snarl.

The bushes continued to quiver in the dark as whatever beast or being approached. Amira’s hands sweated and trembled as she held the axe in front of her and her heart beat in her ears as she prepared to pounce.

Finally, whatever was in the bushes emerged into the clearing. Instead of launching into an attack, Amira’s breath left her in a quiet wheeze.

It was an elf, youthful in appearance, but Amira couldn’t say for sure if she actually looked her age. Frizzy blonde hair framed a pale face, which was either covered in bruises or dirt, or both. The rest of her wasn’t faring much better, tunic torn and hanging from one shoulder.

Amira lowered her ax, placing it on the ground. Then, she raised her hands in a way that signaled that she wasn’t much of a threat.

“You there, beast,” the girl said, looking down her nose. “Where are we?”

[prismatranslates-cue]

Shiho [Unhatched Seiyuu] Part 1

Shiho: Doesn’t look like this rain is stopping anytime soon…

Manager: And here I was hoping the weather forecast would be right when they said it wouldn’t last long…

Shiho: Taking shelter under the eaves like this is an exercise in futility.

Manager: Do you want to run to the convenience store and buy some plastic umbrellas for now?

Shiho: Ah, yes, the parable of the cheap umbrella. Bought only for the moment and never for love.

Shiho: A wretched existence, doomed to be left behind forgotten somewhere. On the seat of a train perhaps, or in the umbrella stand of some store or another.

Shiho: In the end, you may as well have thrown several hundred yen directly into the gutter. The moral of the story: Such purchases are frivolous.

Manager: I guess we can wait here a little longer, then.

Shiho: Alternatively, we could go home in the pouring rain.

Manager: I’d really rather not…

Shiho: It should be fine as long as you change clothes as soon as you get home. Take a hot shower if you need to warm up.

Manager: But I’m sure you don’t want to run all the way from here to the dorm.

Shiho: Nor do I want to waste my time sitting here.

Manager: Okay, how about we use that piece of cardboard over there to keep our heads dry while we go?

Shiho: Gamaner, please think that through more carefully. Two full-grown adults, running in the rain whilst holding a dirty piece of cardboard overhead.

Shiho: What would people think if they saw us?

Manager: They wouldn’t exactly be impressed.

Shiho: To be blunt, they’d think us unsightly fools.

Manager: I’m sure they wouldn’t go that far.

Shiho: I have an idea. I know what we should do.

Manager: Yeah? What is it?

Shiho: You should hang down from up there like a teru teru bouzu doll. [1]

Manager: …Is that a serious suggestion?

Shiho: I’d be quite the weird little guy if it was, wouldn’t I?

Manager: Hahaha…

Shiho: …

Manager: …

Shiho: Are you having trouble breathing?

Manager: No, it’s not that, just…

Shiho: It’s not often I find myself totally alone with you like this, Gamaner.

Manager: No kidding…so, I guess I suddenly feel nervous…

Shiho: What a coincidence…me too.

To be continued...in Part 2

---

Notes

[1]: Teru teru bouzu dolls are small, simple figures made of white paper or cloth that are hung outside as a sort of charm with the hopes of stopping or preventing rain and bringing a sunny day.

[wnterreign]

⟨  michael evans behling.  cis male.  he/him.  29.  ⟩       we welcome sebastian manderly to king’s landing , the lord of white harbor. keep an eye out for their obstinate nature, they tend to cover it up by acting affable. rumor has it they are for the peace treaty, and their loyalties lie with house manderly & stark. you’ll know it’s them when you get flashes of warm eyes that possess an unseen depth  |  standing in between danger and those you care for  |  snowfall on a sunny day 

BASICS.

FULL NAME:   sebastian manderly. ALSO CALLED:   bash, seb, sebastian. TITLES:   lord of white harbor. knight of white harbor. AGE:   twenty-nine. GENDER:   cis male, he / him. ORIENTATION:   bisexual, biromantic.

BIRTHPLACE:   white harbor, the north. RELIGION:   the faith of the seven. SPOKEN LANGUAGES:   common tongue.

STATUS:   unwed, unbetrothed. LOYALTY:   house manderly and stark.

PERSONALITY

POSITIVE:   affable. hardworking. determined. valiant. cheerful. NEGATIVE:   obstinate. blunt. overprotective. guarded. self-sacrificing.

HISTORY

born a bastard, the result of a single night’s mistake, it would’ve been expected that sebastian would’ve grown up forgotten in white harbor because his father, lord farlen manderly, was already wed when he was born. however when lord manderly learned of his son’s existence and that his mother had passed away shortly after giving birth, he, with his wife’s approval, welcomed him into house manderly. for the first few years, he was only known as the manderly bastard, but the lack of the manderly name didn’t cause sebastian to be treated any differently from his half-siblings. he would’ve been happy living the rest of his days as a snow, but eventually lady helaena manderly brought up the topic of legitimization to lord manderly. and so the request was sent to king tylon. the close relationship between the two houses meant that the king didn’t hesitate to grant the manderly’s request, and suddenly sebastian was officially a manderly by name.

sebastian had more freedom growing up due to not being the heir, which he took full advantage of. he did have similar lessons to his half-siblings, which included lessons on politics, but those lessons never interested him nor did he particularly excel at them. he much preferred exploring the city of white harbor, going horseback riding and hunting, and learning how to wield a sword. sebastian was not a natural swordsman by any means. in fact, when he first started his lessons with the master at arms he struggled, causing some to worry that he might be a lost cause. however, what bash lacked in innate talent he made up for tenfold in determination. he trained from sun up to sun down many days because more than anything he wanted to become a knight. 

when he was sixteen, he was knighted, and it was the proudest day of bash’s life - a testament to his years of hard work and perseverance. he might not have been a prodigy but when the title of “ser” was bestowed onto him, he was considered one of the finest knights in the north. not only was he known for his skill but also for how he carried himself; sebastian fit the archetype of the knights from stories - brave, honorable, and kind. 

the manderlys were a very close family, and sebastian grew up close with his half-siblings, even before he was legitimized. he greatly looked up to his older brother and was protective of his younger siblings. he would do anything for them. his relationship with both of his parents was equally as positive. never once did his family make him feel like an outsider or less than simply due to his lineage nor would they tolerate anyone speaking down to him.  

he is very wary about love, despite once wanting to have a marriage like his parents and also his older brother. watching the heartbreak that struck both of those relationships following the deaths of his mother and good sister made sebastian want to avoid that for himself. he once wanted to have a marriage like his parents and also his older brother had. it also didn’t help that his previous betrothal to one of the blackwood sisters ended particularly badly. since then, no betrothal ever went past the initial talks, with most families calling off the possible match in favor of securing a better one with the heir to a house rather than the spare. bash had eventually told both his father and his brother to stop looking for a spouse for him, stating that he would commit himself to his service as a knight instead. 

sebastian became the sworn shield for princess alexia stark two years ago, shortly after the death of his father. he viewed it as a great honor and was extremely committed to his new role. the move to winterfell was an adjustment since while sebastian had traveled throughout the northern kingdom before it was never for too long at one time, but he came to view winterfell as a second home. however, he still wrote often and visited home when possible.