✿ 𝙞 𝙖𝙢 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙖 𝙜𝙪𝙣 ✿
characters: boothill x gn!reader
warnings: fluff, angst/no comfort, spoilers to his character story, reader death, canon typical violence, blood, death, injury description, slavery mention, reader is a galaxy ranger, reader also has burn scars, some mechanical and medical things might be incorrect
notes: i have been spoiling yall too much with the constant fluff and smut. so here throws this fic into your face. divider from @/cafekitsune. a deep thanks to @theblades for helping me find a way to kill reader off😇
word count: 6.2k words
bright sunlight, gentle breeze ruffling through his bi-colored hair and the soft laughter of children. he loved the days spent at the farm, playing hide and seek with his siblings in the corn field, looking after the animals at the farm and taking some out for a walk. if him and his siblings could be sneaky enough, they will be able to snatch a few of graey’s handmade cookies through the kitchen window before dinner time. if not, they’ll get caught red handed, yet be let off the hook with a few soft pinches to their cheeks and one cookie for each since graey was just that soft.
sometimes, him and nick would ride their horses, wilding through the forests and endless fields to lead their cattle to better water and brilliant clouds. nick would sing loudly and proudly — he always does — and soon, he would join in with his young, soft voice pitching out the same song. nick would laugh boisterously, ruffling his hair and knocking off of his hat in the process. he would whine about it, saying things such as his hat getting dirty and being scolded by graey. nick would just laugh and shrug it off with a “sorry kiddo”.
he loved this place. he loved the corn fields he runs through with his siblings, he loved the loud voice of graey yelling out, scolding the kids as they run off laughing like a bunch of menaces, the oldest holding the box of cookies graey keeps on the highest shelf away from them, he loved the guns that nick would pull out from his old box of tools, teaching him how to properly aim and how to shoot the empty cans placed in the distance. and the excited yell of the other kids when he finally manages to knock one down, making him feel giddy as nick congratulated him on his first shot. after he fully mastered the old handgun of nick and shot down all 5 cans in a row, he was rewarded with nick’s old cowboy sheriff medal. the golden, 5 pointed star was old and looked rusty but to little ol’ him, it was the biggest and most treasured gift he ever got.
little ‘loaded gun’ never separated from that medal. he wore it his jacket ever since nick pinned it there for him, proudly showing it off to his siblings and talking about how he will take after nick and graey’s profession in the future. how he promises to nick and graey that he will make them proud, how he will live up to their expectations and become an even better cowboy.
“you sure will, little partner” nick would always laugh and pat his head, re-adjusting the medal. graey would sigh and roll his eyes at nick’s actions before reminding him that he doesn’t have to choose that life if he doesn’t want to. young ‘loaded gun’ would pout, whining that he wants to.
“but i want to be a cowboy! i want to be like you and nick, taking down bad guys, bringing justice and firing big guns!” he would yell, shooting his arms up in the air and jumping around.
“uh-huh. talk about firing big guns after you lose that lisp of yours” graey would chime in, always quick to reprimand him for his missing tooth and lisp as his hands affectionately smoothen out his messy hair, groaning in defeat as the mess of black and white refuse to be tamed.
“but i already lost it! i’m a big boy now!”
“hey graey! am i a big boy capable of firing big guns now?” were the first words he said as he brought back his first successful bounty. the smell of gunpowder and ash clung heavy to his jacket but he didn’t care. the smaller kids ran up to his sides, asking for upsies while his siblings who had already grown up and decided to stay at the farm pat his back and ruffle his hair with affectionate teasing quips.
he did it. he held his promise and followed in the footsteps of graey and nick, the old rusty gun and the sheriff medal being a motivational tool for him to reach his goal. now, all grown up and a master trickshot amongst the cowboys of aeragan-epharshel, ‘loaded gun’ was ready to aim and fire at anyone who dares to harm the innocents. although it had been years since the last time he saw his parents and siblings, everything about them and the old red barn stayed the same. though, the corn field looked a little bit bigger than he remembered.
‘loaded gun’ had done a lot in his life since becoming a cowboy. from fighting bandits in the dusty fields, chasing thieves at the dangerous cliffsides to having a gun fight against rival gangs. there were many times he had narrowly escaped death, breathed nothing but the metallic scent of blood, death and bullets and he still prevailed. although he had lost friends along this deadly road, he had also gained many.
that night, ‘loaded gun’ sat across his parents, seated amongst his siblings as he recalled tales of his adventures. the warmth of his younger siblings’ hugs, the teasing quips of the elders’ back pats and the proud looks nick and graey gave him — he was sure of it; this place was where he was the most happiest.
so when he found a little figure, wrapped in a measly ragtag of a fabric, crying out and lonely, he knew he had to step in and take in the little one. it’s what was right and what graey and nick would have done. a small bundle, not even a month old was left to fend for herself. ‘loaded gun’ carefully cradled the baby close to his chest, trying his best to soothe her cries as much as he could.
“graey! nick! i need some help here!” and ‘loaded gun’ had become a father.
ever since becoming a father, ‘loaded gun’ has experienced everything that parenthood had to offer. sleepless nights of the baby wailing at an ungodly hour, searching for his comfort and warmth. having to change the baby’s diapers and bathe her. checking the temperature of the milk in the bottle before feeding time — everything parenthood brought him, he took it all in strides and jolly laughs.
sometimes, he would put the baby in a small bucket and take her out on the farm with himself. the little baby would laugh and clap her tiny hand together, big bright eyes unknowing of what was happening as ‘loaded gun’ fails to tame a wild stallion, proceeding to get his ass thrown off of the horse’s back. seeing his little girl so happy, how could he ever stop making a fool of himself? he even went far as to carve out a mini guitar for her after seeing her fascination with his old, weathered one.
“from now on, yer name will be clementine. can’t have my little girl going around without a name, right?” he asks, bringing up the white haired girl into his arms and raising her into the air. clementine only giggles, blabbering some stuff as she laughs at the feeling of being in the air. seeing the baby’s innocent wide eyes staring down at him, head haloed by the high sun, ‘loaded gun’s grey ones soften as a teary smile forms on his face. the scars on his hands remind him of his profession and dangers of being a cowboy, but in his heart, he swore that he will keep his little girl safe and to be the best father he can be.
“my little clementine…”
gone... it was all gone.
the corn fields where he used to run through with his siblings when they were young, the old red farm that was in the middle of being repainted, the comfortable warm yet dingy house that him and his family used to live in — it was all gone. the scent of sulfur and burnt bodies hung in the air, ash raining from high above like it was some sort of a rain, turning his already dirtied and burnt clothes into black. there was no sign of nick, graey, his siblings nor the panicked farm animals.
little clementine... where was she? aeons, you can do anything you want to him but please spare his little girl, please by some blind miracle, let little clem be alive. he won't care what he has to do or which burning log he has to push away with his bare hands, just let him hear the sound of his little girl's cries to let him know that she's still alive and he'll do it. he'll do anything to save his little girl.
running through the scorched earth, 'loaded gun' calls out for his family. nick, graey, his siblings and even by their childhood nicknames. clementine, where was clementine, where was his baby girl? his little girl, where—
small red scarf and a burnt mini guitar. that was all he had managed to dig out from the burning farm house of his home. that was all he had left of his little girl, the red scarf that was the same copy of his own and the hand carved guitar with its strings plucked due to the heat of the bomb. those two things were the only things he brought with himself as he travels through the vast galaxies, searching a certain doctor who had made themselves into a cyborg successfully.
on the kingdom of bandits, talia, did he found the doctor. heart heavy, eyes full of vengeance and burnt hands holding onto the strap of his bag that had his little girl's memoirs. the doctor tried to persuade him into thinking over his decisions again, to woo him into staying as a human and not to lose said humanity. but 'loaded gun' was steadfast in his decision. if he wanted to stay as a human, he would have already thrown his body into the fires that engulfed his home.
with a deep sigh and slight reluctance, the doctor fulfilled his wishes. blue colored blood being pumped into his new metal body, no longer warm, scarred flesh but rather a clean plated metal being wired into place. at least his head was kept intact. after everything was over and he regained consciousness, he simply thanks the doctor and leaves his payment on the operation table full of his former human blood mixed with his new cyborg blue ones. he didn't wanted to look at the walls or the floor — it was covered in filthy purple liquids.
"before you leave, will you at least tell me your name?"
"... it's boothill now"
"well, good luck with your hunt mr.boothill"
it has been... how long now? boothill doesn't know. since his 'rebirth' as boothill, he has spent so much time traveling from one world to the other, destroying one ipc ship to the next. it has been a bit too long in his opinion, as the destruction of his home planet has stopped being brought up as the latest hot topic at every bar or saloon he visits. or maybe they never talked about it to begin with. the ipc had friends and slaves everywhere, at every branch or organization or world, boothill wouldn't be surprised if they had ended up covering their filthy work by masking it as an another 'horrific accident that befell a poor world before we could save them' type of thing. the ipc were amazing at their manipulation after all.
"those ipc folk sure have been having some hard time since your sudden emergence huh, cowboy?" a voice rings out to his left, a body covered in a bright red coat sitting down beside him at the bar. gesturing to the bartender, he watches from the corner of his eyes as you order a glass of earl grey and marmalade cooler with extra ice. boothill doesn't know this stranger draped in red was nor did he care. but judging by the way you easily knew of him as the latest troublemaker against the ipc, you have probably heard of the bounty on his head or you just travel the galaxies a lot. or it could be both at the same time.
turning his head just a little bit more towards the side, he looks you up and down, trying to see if there are anything that makes you stand out in any form of way. anything to hint at what or who you were.
old, faded, long, red coat left open at the front, smart by the way you have easily deduced he was a cowboy by just his accessories and clothing alone and ordering anon-alcoholic drink despite having set foot inside a bar and took a seat beside him. he can't see any weapons on your body at the moment and your red coat was covering most of your body too. he'll just have to go in blindly then.
"done checking me out, cowboy?"
by the time he had finished assessing you and had looked up to see your face, you were already staring at him with a nonchalant smirk on your face. for some odd reason, boothill could feel his cheeks heat up and wires zap inside his metal body. there was just something about the way that you easily teased him and wasn't ashamed to hold an eye contact with his target shaped pupils that got him feeling weirdly self conscious. had he forgotten to shine the metal plates of his body today? was his revolver still in place, shiny and strong? what about his bullets? his hat? his hair? oh what if he smelled? can cyborg bodies have any odor to begin with—?
"come on now, don't look away from me. i was talking to you" he could hear you coo out, your hand coming up to turn his chin so you could look at his face. the warmth of your hand touching the only leftover human part of his, the laidback confidence you had in your own self, it all got boothill letting out a steam from his ears like a cartoon character as he quickly turns away from you, his hand pulling down his hat to save whatever tiny drops of image he had.
what a shame, turning into a flustered mess like a high school girl talking to her crush by just the smallest amount of flirting he received. where was his class? his sarcastic remarks? the sassy quips and bites he gives to those who touched him? his tongue felt heavy, cheeks felt like they were on fire and he could just hear the gears inside his body shifting and turning at an uncomfortably fast pace that made him feel like he was overheating. or maybe he truly was overheating. darn, he should visit the doctor again to get some certain things removed.
"a-ahem, didn't yer' parents teach you it's not okay to flirt with strangers at a bar?" curse him for stuttering over his words, he was supposed to appear cool not like a teenager boy dammit! and the way your lips curled upwards even more at the tripping of his words wasn't helping. well he'll be damned, you have a smile that cowboys would kill each other for.
"i'm [name], a galaxy ranger. and you are, dear cowboy?"
idiot cowboys like him would kill each other for.
"name's boothill, sugar"
it has been exactly 2 years and 4 months since boothill first met you and was introduced to a faction called the galaxy rangers. apparently, galaxy rangers are a voluntarily formed group that follows the teachings of lan, the hunt and carries out acts of service, upholding peace and justice. some galaxy rangers are a bit ruthless in the ways they deal with the injustice that happens at some worlds or galaxies, some are a bit more diplomatic, some travel in groups of friends and colleagues while some travel alone.
you were once the latter one; a galaxy ranger that travelled the cosmos alone, a bright red shooting star that shine and never fade till the break of day, bringing hope and destruction at once. were; because it has been precisely 2 years and 4 months since boothill has started to travel alongside you. he had decided to become a galaxy ranger, the voluntary group's ideals appealing to his own sense of vengeance and justice that he wishes to bring to a certain group.
"boothill, it's time to wake up" you call out, having always been the early morning bird out of the two of you. walking towards the bedside of the asleep cowboy, you poke at his eyebrows and nose, pushing his lips into random emotes, snorting at the slight hint of drool on his lips. despite having an all metal body, the cyborg was still very human at heart. you've seen the way he helps the elderly cross the roads, entertaining the kids of your stop of the day by teaching them how to properly hold a gun or to shoot one, how he pets a stray dog or a cat, how he sits down at the bar with you after a successful mission, a guitar in hand as he starts to sing in an unfamiliar language. how he looked sad as he regularly cleans the sheriff medal on his jacket, how he stares at a certain picture that he keeps in his jacket pocket.
or even the ways he calls out to a little girl with white hair, addressing her as "clementine", before apologizing and patting the girl on the head to say "be careful, kid". you've seen it all, or what you like to think of as all of boothill.
"fuck meeee, it's still early dawn sugar" the cowboy groans out, voice groggy due to his voice bank having been on resting mode and just restarted. reaching an arm out, he manages to grab a hold of the back of your shirt before you could escape, pulling you down onto his bed as you let out a shriek. grunting at your flailing limbs and attempts to escape his clutch, he only tightens them, climbing on top of you with a cheshire grin on his face.
"that's what ya' get for trynna wake up a cowboy, sugar. ya' get put in time-out" boothill grins at the red of your cheeks from laughing too much, a surprising flare of cuteness aggression coming over him as he leans over your face to gnaw at your cheeks with his shark-like teeth.
"on-nom nom nom nom nom, i'm gonna eat up yer' mochi cheeks, sugar!" the cyborg says, making an overdramatic munching noises as he gnaws the sharp edges of his teeth over the soft fat of your cheek. you could only laugh, throwing your legs back and forth as you try to escape his hold.
"boothill! you're a whole damn 700 kilogram of pure metal alone, get off of me!" you shriek out when the mischievous cowboy starts to gnaw on the skin of your neck and chin, akin to a baby kitten throwing a temper tantrum. as if to spite you, he only rolls his body over yours more, squishing you flat down onto the bed with a menacing laugh.
it was usual to start the day like this between you and boothill. he was not a morning person, you were and usually you would have to end up paying for being the early bird as he squishes your body flush against his own metal one. sometimes you two would end up just falling back asleep, with you being held hostage in boothill's grasp and boothill comfortably squeezing his face into your body. sometimes, you two would end up like this, just laughing and having a harmless prank time together. other times, you two end up with a bunch of ruined pillows, the feathers dancing in the air as you try to get at least a hit on him. but somehow, boothill was always better than you when it came to pillow fights.
"now what happened 'ere, sugar?" you could hear boothill ask, finally managing to get a deep breath in as he finally lifts away some of the weight he had on you. a cold, hard metal tenderly ghosts over where your neck and shoulder met, over the old burn scar you had. oh right, you forgot of that little fella there.
"ah, that. it's just some old burn wound from one of my earlier days as a galaxy ranger. there's nothing to worry about, don't worry" you hum, bringing a hand up to run through his mess of a bi-colored hair. his hair was always a mess no matter the circumstances, it was honestly a wonder how he doesn't have urges to cut his hair short. not like you were complaining, the long hair suited him perfectly and you wouldn't want him to change his looks.
as you lay there on the hotel bed, looking up at the ceiling, thinking over where to go next or what route you two should take during this next new mission of yours, boothill was busy remembering an old memory. an old memory that he wished to forget so vehemently.
red and orange — that was all he could smell all around him. the burnt down farm that was in the middle process of being renovated, the burnt carcasses — it wouldn't be right to call them carcasses, there was nothing much left remaining to even properly call them as that — the corn fields burning down. sulfur and death — that was all 'loaded gun' could smell as he dug into his burning home. the heat that scorched his face or licked away at the skin of his hand didn't bother him. all he wanted to do was to find his daughter, his little girl, his little clementine. please, let her be alive by some miracl—
"boothill?" your voice echoed in his head, snapping him back from the dreaded memory lane he accidentally made a trip down towards. looking up at your face, he could see the furrowing of [c] brows over your [c] eyes as they stared at him with so much concern, affection, wonder and care. he takes in the details of your face as his breath gets stolen, seeing the way the [c] locks circled around your head as you reflected the perfect image of what he thinks aeons looks like. by the mighty aeons, you were gorgeous. and how his breath is found once again as you run a hand through his hair, blunt nails lightly scratching at his scalp. you stole his breath away as easily as breathing it back into him.
leaning close into you, he felt the way your breaths mingled with his own, how if he were to try and reach out, he could feel your body heat against his only remaining body like an anchor, like a long awaited lover returning home. there was warmth in your eyes that was missing in his cold, metal body. humane marks that was reflected onto his own vibranium plates that tried to imitate human flesh. there was humanity in you that boothill feared he lacked in himself.
"[name]... i want to taste your lips" boothill breathed out before he could even catch whether he was imagining his words or was outright saying it. and he did get what he politely asked for, your split lips connecting with his own intact ones. he tasted life that he was sure that he had lost on your lips, a memory of something old and tender that had been burned away in the fires that scorched his home and your body. he felt something move and beat rhythmically within the confines of his gears and wires, convinced that he had somehow, by some way regained his heart. regained his human body. regained his humanity.
you breathed life into him and he found himself asking for one more when your lips left his own, and one more, and one more. and one more.
"boothill, when was the last time that you went to the doctor to have your body checked over?" you say, turning your attention away from sharpening your sword to his body. even from such distance, you could see some screws getting a bit looser, some little wires or the ends of wires peeking out from behind the plates of his body. from what you could remember, the last time your partner had told you of going to the doctor to have himself checked over was... perhaps a year ago.
as galaxy rangers, you two now constantly get into fights and battles. especially with the ipc as the corporation has added you to their list of wanted figures besides boothill's growing dead or alive bounty. in an order to be ready for any ambush or unplanned fights that may take place, you and your partner must be ready for any sort of fight that may come your way. which also means making a trip to the kingdom of bandits and thieves, talia, a bit often to see the doctor.
something that boothill insists doesn't have to be done after every fight or to have you follow him. the cyborg insists that it's for your own safety but you know that he just doesn't want you to see him being taken apart and put back together again like... like he has lost his own sense of self. despite his flair and bright smiles, you always knew that boothill had a deep sense of problem with his body. you know, since you were always the one to collect his breaking consciousness into your awaiting warm arms to place him back together again. peace by loving peace, you were akin to a warm candlelight that soothed his worries and shooed away any fears that might dig its claws into his wires.
"uhhh... dunno sugar. maybe a year? or even over a year ago..." the cowboy replies, looking up from his own weapon that he was cleaning. seeing your eyes narrow at him and shoulders become stiff, boothill quickly places down his revolver, waving his hands as a form of self defense from your already approaching lecture.
"h-hey hey hey! but don't worry, i'm genuinely doing fine, sugar! if anything, it should be nagging you for not resting and properly taking care of that shoulder wound!" the cyborg was quick to defend himself, instead pointing a finger towards your direction. more specifically, your shoulder.
"it's just a small cut, boothill! i've already gotten it cleaned and wrapped in bandages" you raised your arms in a surrendering motion, now taking on the side to defend yourself from his words.
just as boothill was about to retort back with something smart-mouthed, you two suddenly fall silent as the familiar sound of the heels of an eerily familiar corporation uniform resounds in the hallway boards of the inn. those footsteps and the light click! clack! of their weapons told you two everything you needed to know. silently, boothill puts on his hat, reloading his revolver at a terrifyingly fast pace. meanwhile, you shrug on your signature red coat, newly sharpened and cleaned blade ready to slice through the ipc's weapons.
waiting patiently behind the doors of your inn room, you two wait with bated breaths until a very quick clicking of the door opening is heard. before the door could even creak open on its old hinges, boothill has already taken the first shot. without needing for words to talk about tactics or which side to take, you rush out, the sharp edge of your blade cutting through the ipc's every weapons. behind you the sound of gunshots and bodies hitting the floor follows.
it was simple, really. you disarm the ipc and boothill takes care of the rest. surrounded at all sides? you will always take the east side while boothill takes care of the ones on the west. and if there's a ew weapon or a surprise in your way, boothill will just blast it high into the sky with his arm canon and you can make the rest of them into thin noodles at record time. a deadly duo you two were, gutsy as you stood against the ipc in its whole with no fear, only excitement at what new weapon you'll come across or who could get more hits in. perhaps that's precisely why the ipc decided to send battalion after battalion after you two this time. perhaps it was the bounties on your head that caused the inn owner to betray your trust and rat you two out.
either way, nothing could exactly stop in your way. weapons cut, guns exploded due to bullets meeting inside the hole, armories torn apart and ipc managers blasted. there was nothing that could stand against a hurricane of two galaxy rangers. a red coat flashing past the ipc, a grey shine that took down a panicking soldier standing kilometers away. but there was a little problem. boothill's loose wires had connected with the wrong ones, causing him to stay in his lock 'n loaded state. target shaped pupils now bright red with the grey of his irises now bright red that perceived all those with a weapon as an enemy.
after the final ipc manager fell apart in a heap of metal and wires, you heard the sound of a gunshot still being fired towards the west. was boothill ambushed? was he okay? rushing over to where the sound is the loudest at, you couldn't help but gawk at the state of the corpses and remains of some of the robots. the large gaping holes were not normal, if anything it looked more like a canon bullet with how the entry holes were bigger and the exit holes were smaller. why was boothill using his arm canon at every chance he got? what was happening?
"boothi-!" a bang rings out just as you make it to where the gunshot was the loudest, bullet wizzing past your ear, nipping at the shell of it. the wound left ringing in your ear as you hold up a hand to cover the injured ear, looking on in fear as the red iris and white pupils of your partner looks straight back at you. you could see your own reflection in his eyes and boothill didn't look happy to see you.
eyes that used to stare at you with fondness and sea of affection now stared dead into your own pupils as if you were an enemy. a threat.
"whatcha' lookin' at, scum? come on, let's see ya' dance" this was not your boothill, this wasn't your beloved, this wasn't the same sweetheart whose eyes turn into heart shapes every time your own gaze meets his. this was not boothill.
dodging a bullet by a mere graze, you duck behind an overturned table. shit, think [name], how do you get him out of that state? you briefly remember him telling you that he briefly goes into lock 'n loaded state when he has a stand-off duel. but what more? he was locked in that state of his, ready to kill anyone that comes close. do you have to duel with him to make him snap out of it? but you don't know how to shoot a gun.
but... what if it doesn't have to be a gun duel?
"hey!" you call out, sliding on the floor to hide behind another chair that was flipped over when the canon bullet of boothill shoots through your old coverage with no mercy. "how about a duel, cowboy? you think you can be a faster draw than me?" you can hear his gun click, knowing that now he needs at least a few seconds to reload. maybe 5 seconds at best, boothill was fast in his reloading. you hear a soft scoff as you hear his gun open, the soft clanks of his bullet entering the cylinder resounding in the empty room. one, two, three -- all six bullets in and the soft clink of the hammer of his revolver releasing indicated that boothill was ready for a draw.
"hah, what do you think, sweet cheeks? think you can keep up with me?" you can just hear the taunting in his voice, goading you to make the first move. deep breath in and out, your hand holding the sheath of your sword, ready to draw. silence takes over the room as you speedrun any plans or ideas to catch him off guard. any idea to make him snap out of it. you can be the faster draw but that won't promise you a win if your life is going to be lost.
a steady hand is what you need. just a steady hand to knock some sense back into boohtill... a steady hand to knock some sense.
"come on, fucker. what's taking ya'—" the table he thought you were hiding behind is abruptly flipped over towards boothill, taking him by a sliver of surprise before he aims and pulls the trigger. once, twice and the table was split into half. a chair was next, a single explosive bullet causing the woods to splinter and cover your form as you dash through the room, straight at him.
"'atta you fuckhead! packing some guts, i see!" boothill laughs, aiming straight at your head and pulling the trigger. the bullet doesn't hit, you managed to draw your sword in time to cut it in half. a grin matching the sense of a maniac high spread across boothill's face at the clinking of the two bullet pieces hitting the floor. all you had on mind was to get near him at this moment, nothing else. another bullet is fired, getting cut apart in the middle before his revolver joins, being split apart by your expert swordsmanship.
close enough, you can do it, you can snap him back into his senses.
the sound of broken revolver and dulled blade hitting the floor is disregarded the moment you lean in close to him, hand raised, fist reared back, ready to knock some sense into him. at the same time, boothill's left arm raises towards your abdomen. time seemed to slow and all you had in mind was to deliver a sharp knuckle sandwich.
BANG! CRACK!
your sharp punch landed straight across his face, making his hat drop to the ground. if this was any other bar fight, you would have laughed in his face as you witness his red iris turn grey again, paired with the signature marksman symbol pupils. you did it, your plan worked and boothill was back. when you wanted to point at his face and scold his ears off, all you managed was a weak wheeze. strange...
the world spun around you, the horrified face of boothill catching your attention alongside the sharp pain at your side. you didn't even knew that you fell to the ground as boothill cradles you up into his arms, holding you like how he always does as his metallic fingers gently hold your cheek. his mouth was moving, bi-colored hair falling like a curtain over you two as if to keep this moment hidden from the prying eyes of the corpses in the room.
what was he saying? there was a permanent ringing in your ears and you couldn't be more annoyed about the timing of something more than now. you wanted to listen to his voice, the gentle rasp as he apologized for now listening to you, the hidden tenderness as he calls you an idiot for getting too close to him. breathing became harder for you, black dots appearing in your vision, hindering you from seeing the way boothill was desperately holding you tight against his body. you must have hit your head pretty heard when you fell.
"... i told you... to have yourself checked o.. ver..." you barely manage to say, your voice dying in your throat as you try to talk to him. shaking hand comes up to cradle his cheek, trying to wipe away the tears that streaming from his grey eyes. why was your hand bloodied? it left stains on your dear boothill's cheeks and he will surely complain about it as he tries to wipe it away with his own metallic ones like a cat. you felt cold from the inside, you couldn't move your legs and even holding up your hand felt like a chore.
perhaps a nice rest will help you relax and gain your strength back. and when you wake up again, you will be back in the inn's room, your favorite cowboy by your side, clinging to you like a lifeline as he snores open-mouthed, wiping his drool all over your shirt. when you wake up again, your favorite cowboy won't be covered in blood. when you wake up again, there won't be this annoying sharp sting at your side that felt like your whole intestines were spilling out.
"sugar...? sugar, no, don't close your eyes! [name] wake up!" boothill yells, shaking your bloodied body as he tries to make you regain consciousness. you can hit him all you like, put pink ribbons in his hair, steal his hat, scold him for all you want, just please don't close your eyes. please don't fall asleep. please, don't leave him alone.
"... i'll get lost again if you leave me..." there was no pulse. your body was cold already. and the cyborg wished he could cry again. at least one last time.
280 notes
·
View notes
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
PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT
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 📸
PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT
Showstopper is copyright 2022 - 2024 theharrowing, all rights reserved.
52 notes
·
View notes