#another wild fluff fic appears

[adrift-in-thyme]

@telemna-hyelle it took more than an hour (sorry about that) but here it is! The Four/Dot fluff I promised!

I hope it helps you end your day on a good note <33

----------------------------------------------------------

He isn’t ready for this.

Four moves along the wooded path as if in a trance. He knows every step of this place like the back of his hand. But usually, he is much more attentive than this. Usually, he keeps a watchful eye on the surrounding area, scouting for the stray chu or keese. 

Today, however, he cannot seem to keep his mind on such things. The sunlight dappled earth beneath his feet, the scent of leaves and bark baked in the afternoon warmth, the breeze that caresses his cheeks, and the chittering of the many critters that scamper about within the foliage – they are all lost on him.

He feels Dot’s hand in his, her palm smooth and warm. He smells her perfume – light and sweet like the cotton candy they spin at the yearly festivals. He hears her laughter, bright and unrestrained and free as she tells a tale from her day. He sees her, radiant, hair like strands of gold and eyes the color of the joyful sky.

She looks at him, says something he can’t comprehend. He nods, conjures up a smile. With luck, it won’t be as strained as he feels that it is.

He has faced beasts one hundred times his size, navigated the pain and confusion of being split into four, saved the world twice. But by the golden three, he is not ready for this.

And yet, he is going through with it anyway. He can’t back down now. Not when his best friend is right here beside him, every moment of basking in her presence strengthening the love he feels for her. 

Four squares his shoulders. Yes, this is the right thing to do. The hardest things often are. 

The Minish have done a spectacular job preparing the clearing. That much is evident as soon as it comes into view. Everything is as they had planned. Every detail has been attended to with immaculate care.

Vines drape over tree limbs, their slim strands heavy with layered blossoms. Flower petals drift down in lazy pirouettes to join the coat of vibrant pink already lying on the forest floor. The sun glimmers through slightly parted branches. Not far off a fairy fountain casts its soothing glow. Soft notes of magic drift to Four’s ears as he leads Dot forward.

“Link,” she breathes, gazing upward and all around, eyes wide with adoration, “this is beautiful.”

“Yes, it is,” he agrees with a calm he in no way feels. “The Minish worked very hard on it.”

Dot turns to him now, head cocked in question. “The Minish? What do you…”

She trails off as he drops to one knee.

It feels as though he is kneeling on a bed of silk. But the sensation in his chest as he reaches into his pouch is about as pleasant as the Big Octorok sitting on him.

The ring is in his palm though, a delicate thing melted and shaped and fired by his own two hands. It had taken countless tries to get it right, to meld the corners into the perfect curve, to carve the designs in the way he imagined them to be. Making jewelry is not quite the same as crafting a sword. It requires a different sort of skill.

But he had found that skill within him. And he had created something beautiful. Something he will be proud to see upon her finger.

“Zelda,” he murmurs and curses the way his voice trembles a bit at the end, “Zelda, Princess of Hyrule, my dearest friend…” He raises his head, gazes into those big blue eyes. The ones that had shone with empathy when the pieces of himself had threatened to shatter him anew. The ones that had glowed with mirth and joy at the festivals, brightened when he told a joke, gone sharp with interest when he told a tale.

The eyes he has gotten lost in so many times before, and hopes to many more times in the future.

“Zelda, will you marry me?”

She stares at him for a long, agonizing moment, hand held to her mouth, emotion surging across her face. Then, she laughs. She laughs and the world sings with the noise. And she swoops down and lands a kiss right on his lips.

“Was…” he croaks when his surroundings have swung back into focus and the dizzying mixture of elation and trepidation have abated somewhat, “...was that a yes?”

“Oh, Link, of course, it was! Of course!” Her hands are on his face. The ring shines on one of her fingers, though he can’t remember placing it there. Everything is a haze, a haze of wonder and joy and fear. 

It looks perfect there, though. Almost as though she was born to wear it.

“I’ll marry you, Link!” She cries, visage aglow. “I would like nothing more!” 

A laugh bubbles from his lips now, smaller and more hesitant, but overjoyed nonetheless. He stands and suddenly, his arms are around her and hers around him and they are hugging like the world depends upon it. Like if they let go, this moment, this delicate, beautiful moment will solidify and shatter. 

Perhaps, it will. But Four likes to think that it is stronger than that. Like they are.

He blinks away the tears and smiles.

As a sword is forged to endure the struggles of time, so is their friendship made to withstand the toughest of tribulations. And that makes moments like this one even more precious.

“I love you,” she says and her very soul is in the words.

Four holds her tighter and makes himself a promise that he will never let her go. He will never allow her to fall in harm’s way again, never leave her to face life alone. No, they will stand tall through it all. Together. 

“I love you too,” he whispers. “I love you too.”

#another wild fluff fic appears #two in the span of two weeks?? #idk what's happening to me XD #thanks for letting me write this for you tellie <333 #i hope you liked it #and i hope your day gets better #and that tomorrow is easier and brighter #linked universe #lu four #lu dot #zelink #fluff #trin writes

[kayjayjwrites]

Like Bugs in a Rug: Chapter One

Summary: Azriel Shadowsinger, mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, was head over heels in love with you for years. Everyone in the room could see it, except for you of course. A series of connected one-shots.

Chapter Word Count: 6,350

Chapter Content Warnings: fluff, some cursing, one bed trope, awkward but wholesome communication, AFAB Reader, Reader (You), some details about Reader's appearance but overall vague, canon plot spoilers as this is canon compliant-ish, reader low key being thirsty for Azzie

Note: Hello! Welcome to my first fic in like 10 years! This idea came about when I was having a hard time falling back asleep. I sometimes draft fanfiction when i'm trying to sleep. I don't often remember the plots come morning, but the memory of this one remained intact enough for me to jot down. I’m thinking this update is gonna be the longest chapter because it's both prologue and the first chapter, but I have terrible self control with word count limits. So I guess we’ll see what the next chapters bring, but they may be shorter!

Enjoy me 2am fugue state musings, there are likely typos~

It was all worth it. The decades of patience and silent suffering. The centuries of loneliness paying off just as you lost hope of ever leaving The Court of Nightmares. You and your father, Kier, expected a typical visit from the Inner Circle. The High Lord would threaten your father to keep him in line, you’d go unnoticed in the back of the throne room monitoring the interaction. Just like every other time they visited.

Except, the High Lord and his Inner Circle asked about you like you were the reason behind their visit. You had clocked the visit as odd as soon as only Rhysand, Feyre, and Mor arrived. The absence of both The General & Shadowsinger at the same time a rarity. Despite being related to Rhysand and Mor, you didn’t think they knew your name, so when they asked Kier about you, by name, your heart damn near fell out of your ass.

They wanted you to leave Hewn City to work with them. A Courtier of the Night Court, working alongside Nesta, Lady Death herself, of all people. They wanted you to start immediately now that the war with Hybern was over. Relations between Courts were strained, and upon learning of your talent, the High Lord deemed it a waste for you to be hidden away down here. He and the Inner Circle believed you did not belong in The Court of Nightmares. To anyone else, having the High Lord speak so highly of your child would have been an honor.

It was the most furious you’d ever seen Kier. Which was saying something. His emotions grew volatile in a blink of an eye, outraged by the absolute gall of the High Lord. How dare he come to his city and tell him that you weren’t meeting your full potential down here? At some point Kier stood up, snarling at Rhysand and the others like a wild animal. Kier, so lost in his anger, let his mental shields falter. Just for a second, but it was more than enough time for your powers to draw his wayward thoughts to you, like a magnet, his unspoken intentions seeped into your own mind. You were always terrible at blocking him out when he got like that.

Power. Kier's thoughts whispered to you. A spy for him in the Inner Circle. It disgusted you how predictable your father was, his intentions were always about how he could best use you for his own gain. It was the driving force behind your excessive training habits, desperate to protect yourself from the toxicity of his intentions. The more you failed at keeping him out, the more you hated him, and by default hated yourself.

Rhysand was right, you were wasted down here, and it wasn’t that your father didn’t see that, he didn’t care. He wasn’t furious with the High Lord for taking another daughter away from him, he was mad about losing a tool.

Well, your father could rot down here alone for all you cared.

You felt a lot of things in that moment. Intimidated by the prospect of working with Nesta, unsure of Mor’s morals and the rumors surrounding her, apprehensive of Rhysand and Feyre’s power, and not to mention all the unknown dynamics between the rest of the Inner Circle. But, despite all that uncertainty, you did not feel nervous about leaving Hewn City with them.

The first task Kier ever appointed you was to report on Rhysand and his Inner Circle’s intentions every time they visited. Either they all had flawless control over their mental shields, or their icy behavior was an act from the beginning. You never dared to share your suspicions with Kier, your father only wanted ammo for his hate, and he never took kindly to evidence that didn’t support his biases against High Lord Rhysand.

It felt a little too much like blind faith and a hunch for you to be 100% comfortable with the decision, but you decided to put your trust in these strangers anyway.

You would take the job.

Not to be a spy for Kier.

Not out of some duty to your High Lord or older sister.

It was time to live your life for you. Consequences be damned.

But, the focus of this story was not about moving to Velaris with Mor and getting to know the Inner Circle. It wasn’t about how much you rock as a diplomat for the Night Court. It wasn’t about how good it felt the first time sunlight touched your skin upon leaving the underground city. It wasn’t even about how you and Nesta became best friends. However good those stories may be.

However, this story is about Azriel Shadowsinger, and how the mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, fell head over heels for you without you ever picking up on it. Yeah, that’s right, the girl who struggled to control her talent for hearing unspoken intentions never puzzled the pieces together. For literal years everyone else in the godforsaken room could tell the Spymaster was in love with you, except for you.

It all started with an argument with Rhysand a few assignments into your career as the Night Court Courtier. You felt like you could handle traveling between Courts without needing an escort, especially if you’d be meeting up with Nesta at the destination anyway. Rhysand did not agree, basically threatening to ground you if you didn’t allow someone to accompany you.

That was how Azriel had become your full-time travel partner. Rhysand appointed Azriel as an additional escort in case Nesta was pulled away.

You’d take this to your grave before ever admitting it, but Rhysand wasn’t wrong to be worried. There had been a good number of times where just that had happened. Nesta would be working the other side of the room, and having Azriel lingering nearby eased your nerves. Prythian was a vast Realm, and Rhys had been right in worrying about your adjustment.

It didn’t take too long for you to adapt once you had visited all the different Courts a few times. Yet, Azriel continued to go out of his way to accompany you to events. The first obvious sign of his affections for you came a couple years into your career.

The event was in a small Day Court town on the border of the Night Court, just under a day’s travel from Velaris on foot. Home to one of the libraries hit hardest by Amarantha’s looting, the entire town was celebrating the return of a sizable chunk of the stolen volumes. The gala was advertised to be a quaint dinner and cocktail hour. You suspected that scholars and book enthusiasts would be the bulk of those present. Although interested in going, Rhysand had High Lord duties to attend to that involved Nesta and the other Archeron sisters in the Summer Court. With a promise to fill everyone in on anything of interest, you packed a small overnight bag and waited for Mor to arrive home. You never developed the ability to winnow, so you needed someone to bring you.

Fussing with your hair in one of the numerous mirrors decorating Mor’s walls, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection. Your time in Velaris, just over two years, had already begun to sooth a deep sadness you hadn’t realized had settled under your skin. It was obvious in the gentle way you gazed at your reflection, the healthy flush of your cheeks, and the warmth of your thoughts. Velaris looked good on you, and as you smoothed a hand down the shimmery sapphire blue fabric of the dress that clung to your curves, you thought the new formalwear looked good on you too.

Giddiness bubbled up in you at the idea of modeling the new dress for Mor. The excitement felt foreign still, after spending centuries believing Mor didn’t care to know her own little sister. You never thought you’d ever get the chance to gush over dresses with her. Kier hated everything Mor represented, and was cruel to her in ways that made you feel lucky in a perverse way. Your father may have manipulated and alienated you, filling your head with lies about your older sister, but it was never public. Kier made sure everyone in the Court of Nightmares knew that Mor was a useless whore and a traitor.

When Mor became a core member of the Inner Circle, and Rhysand put her in charge of Hewn City, you would wait for her to acknowledge you during her visits. Decades turned into a century, but the same hope would always rise up when Mor was due for a visit, only to be crushed when she ignored you. She never paid you a second of her time, just a fleeting look in passing as if you were another spectator. Knowing that she wasn’t ignoring you out of ill intent stung more, because you couldn’t bring yourself to hate her.

Kier may be your father, but that didn’t mean you had to be a fan of his intentions. You never believe the rumors he spread about Mor.

And then, the big reveal came. It turned out that to Mor, you were just another spectator. Mor didn’t know she had a younger sister at all. Keir hid you so well that no one realized you were related to him. A detail that made you feel so small when it came to light. You were just the shy woman in the background, taught to be pleasant when spoken to, a pretty little wallflower the rest of the time.

Later, when you asked about who first realized your identity, you got mixed accounts from the Inner Circle. Rhysand insisted that it was he who put the pieces together first. Stating that it came to him suddenly after Azriel submitted a report from a surveillance mission detailing an overheard conversation between you and Kier about your talents. Rhysand claimed that your powers reminded him of a variation of Mor’s. The rest of the Inner Circle credited Feyre for noting the resemblance between you, Kier, and The Morrigan the first time she noticed you loitering at the back of a council meeting.

When the truth was confirmed, and you agreed to go with them, Mor wept. She vowed to never leave you alone in The Court of Nightmares ever again, even for a second. That promise was your first experience with making a deal in the Night Court. Your clear surprise at the intricate tattoo that branded itself over the center of your sternum clued Mor, Rhysand, and Feyre in on how out of touch you were with common lore from your own Court. Mor wasted no time in winnowing you out of there after that. The both of you had heard enough of Keir’s nasty sneers and low-blow comments to last a lifetime.

Now, Mor’s cozy little home was also your cozy little home, if not a bit tight for two people. If someone asked you a decade ago if you thought you’d ever have a relationship with Mor you would advise them to seek out a healer.

And yet there you were, vibrating with things to tell her, anticipating her arrival with an almost goofy grin when…Azriel of all people winnowed into the living room.

Perplexed, but not totally disappointed, “Oh!” you said, clearly taken aback. “I was expecting Mor.”

Azriel huffed a low chuckle, dimples bracketing his amused half-smile. “Sorry to disappoint.”

You looked him over, dark circles under his eyes, droopy eyelids, posture leaning forward in a slight slouch. “Az, didn’t you just return from a long mission? Why aren’t you resting?”

“Wanted to escort you to the Day Court Library Gala, of course.”

The tenderness in his voice had warmth bubbling up from your chest. “That is very kind,” you started, making sure to meet his gaze so he knew you meant it, “but you look so tired, Az. I’ve visited the Day Court a bunch of times now and only need someone to winnow me there. As much as I enjoy having you accompany me to these things, I don’t want you to stretch yourself thin on my account. I’ve got this.”

“I know you’ve got this,” came his immediate reply, “as you’ve pointed out I’ve been gone for a few weeks. What if I offered to escort you because I missed you, hm?”

Despite yourself you felt a flush of heat in your cheeks at his teasing. You refused to use your powers on anyone in the inner circle, unwilling to violate their privacy without explicit consent. But you didn’t need your powers to read Azriel’s sincerity. It made it hard to meet his gaze, you turned back to running your fingers through your hair in the mirror, taking a moment to compose yourself. “Well alright then, I don’t think I can do anything more to tame my hair, we should be off then.”

You felt Azriel at your back, a gloved hand coming up to gently grasp your elbow, guiding your arm down as his hand trailed down the bare skin of your forearm to hold yours, turning you to face him. “Stop fussing, you look stunning, this dress is new, right? I think the color suits you.”

You smiled. “Thank you, I suppose you would like this color, now that I’m thinking about it,” with your free hand you held up the skirt of the floor length dress to the siphon on his wrist, marveling at the color match, “it looks like I did it on purpose.”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he pulled you closer into an almost embrace. “We should go now. Wouldn’t want to miss the opening speeches.”

You suppressed a shudder. Definitely from the way his breath tickled your ear, and not from the way his voice sounded as he tucked you into his chest. “You hate opening speeches.” You pointed out, remembering all the times he complained about how boring they were.

“I do, but you like them.” You’d never said as much aloud, but you did enjoy listening to people talk about things they were passionate about, and opening speeches tended to be just that. Of course the Spymaster had noticed.

If Azriel saw your smile before you hid your face against his leather-clad pec he didn’t let on. You pulled your hands free and looped your arms around his middle, clasping your fingers together under the base of his wings.

“I’m ready then, thank you for coming with me.” Your voice was muffled, unwilling to tilt your head up to talk to him in case your maddening blush was there. It didn’t seem to matter how many times you winnowed with Az, your whole face would go cherry red. Something Cassian never failed to poke fun at whenever he witnessed it.

Azriel wrapped his arms tightly around you, your body now flush to his. You focused on the sound of his wings rustling as he tucked them in closer. Anything to distract from the way your pulse spiked when you felt his lips brush against the crown of your head, his hold on you gentle, yet firm and protective as darkness folded around the both of you.

XxXx

Neither you nor Azriel realized the issue with your room reservation until much too late. Upon arrival in The Day Court the both of you hurried to the event. The gala wrapped up around midnight, and like most of the other guests staying in town, you and Azriel retired back to the nearby Inn. With your strappy heels in hand and a pleasant buzz from the alcohol, you felt positively bubbly. Paused in front of your room, you let Azriel rummage through the small black purse at your side for the key. After almost leading them into the wrong room, Azriel took it upon himself to find the correct room and unlock the door.

Minutes later you were still trying to suppress a smile at how Azriel reacted with such mortification when he realized you’d led them to the wrong room. The mental image of the great Shadowsinger so frantic in his efforts to stop you from further jostling the doorknob, had you letting out a laugh before you could stop it.

“It’s not funny.” He grumbled as he swung the wooden door to your room open, leading you inside. You were on the verge of poking fun at him some more when you caught a glimpse of the interior layout. Right, you had RSVP’d expecting to attend the gala alone. The realization sobered you up real fast.

The room was small, burgundy curtains concealing a sizable window, antique desk with tourist flyers stacked in a neat pile on top. A queen sized, four post bed situated in the middle of the room.

“I’ll take the floor—” Azriel started saying.

But you interrupted him. “—you should have the bed.”

“Absolutely not, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let a lady sleep on the floor while I hogged the whole bed.” He nodded, as if the conversation was over, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes at him.

“There’s not even enough space on the floor for you to stretch out Az. The room is basically only bed. It’s fine, I can use my extra clothes—”

You inhaled sharply, tensing at the thought of your overnight bag, left forgotten back at Mor's apartment. Your eyes darted to Azriel, meeting his gaze out of the corner of your eye, and you knew you didn’t need to say anything about it as he scoffed under his breath.

“You forgot your bag.” He observed.

Sighing, you ran a hand through your hair, your tight dress feeling like it was constricting around your chest as you contemplated sleeping in it. “I did indeed forget my bag.”

“We could just go back, we don’t have to stay here for the night.” Azriel pointed out, but the thought of cutting the trip short caused a ripple of disappointment to drop in your stomach.

“Or,” he continued with a hint of amusement, “I have an undershirt beneath my leathers. I changed before I met you at Mor’s, so it’s relatively clean. I was going to sleep in it tonight, but I would sacrifice my shirt for you if it meant you’d stop frowning like that.”

If you thought you were anxious before, Azriel’s suggestion sent your anxiety through the roof. You had always found Azriel attractive, even when you were still living in Hewn City. Who wouldn’t? That attraction grew into a bit of a crush when you first arrived in Velaris. He treated you with such care as you adjusted to living above ground, quiet, patient, and thoughtful.

Once it was apparent that you would be working closely with him you shut that shit down. You and him had spent a lot of time traveling together the last few years, always with separate sleeping arrangements, and never sharing clothing. You went out of your way to respect his privacy, give him space, all in hopes of being someone he one day could trust, like how you trusted him.

You could handle one night, sharing a bed, borrowing his shirt. That wouldn’t totally backfire on you in any way, right? Nodding to yourself once, you tried for an air of confidence as you talked around the nerves that have bloomed in your chest.

“Okay,” you agreed, “but if I change into your shirt you definitely can’t take the floor. I won’t let you sleep shirtless on the ground while I’m all tucked in and cozy in bed. I’ll only take up a sliver of it by myself anyway.”

He opened his mouth to object, his intentions written in the way his brow furrowed at you. But you barreled on anyway, “So, we share the bed tonight. Are you comfortable with that?”

His mouth snapped shut, eyes studying you for a tense moment as if you may be tricking him. You clasped your hands together in front of you, the longer you waited for him to respond the clammier your palms felt. Each second felt like an eternity and in no time at all you found yourself scrambling for a way to play off your idea as a joke.

Of course he wouldn’t want to share a bed with you. What in the world had you been thinking?

Maybe you could blame it on that deliciously fizzy drink you downed before leaving the gala, say you weren’t in your right mind. Pretend to not remember in the morning, as if this wasn’t going to be a moment you cringe about decades later. Would you be able to just laugh it off? Would Azriel be chill enough to let you live this down? You were probably so screwed.

He was still a little tense, but just before your panic truly took root Azriel began to nod his head like he...agreed with you?

“Yes, I think that is the most logical solution. The bed can definitely fit two.” Azriel finally said, and you tried to keep yourself from gaping at his response. But your surprise must have been all over your face because he went on to say, “I didn’t suggest it myself because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Wiping your hands down the front of your dress did little to help with the sweat. The pit that had been taking form in your stomach churned, your dread morphing into jittery nerves.

Then, as if you weren’t having a nervous breakdown right in front of him, the handsome lunatic started striping his leathers off. Dept hands tossing his gloves to the desk, he unclasped the chest pieces of his leathers, they fell to the floor with a thud. Then, the promised black undershirt was up over his head, and you were drinking in all his tattoos and corded muscles like you were a tactless teenager instead of a 300+ year old female.

A flash of movement from him, and you flinched when his shirt hit you square in the face. It was so big it draped over your head. You made a disgruntled noise, ignoring how delicious the shirt smelled as you removed it from your face, “Hey—!”

“If you’re done gawking at me like you’ve never seen a shirtless male, you can get ready for bed first.” He headed further into the room, collecting his chest piece off the floor and approaching the desk to place it with his gloves. He turned to face you, his butt propped against the desk as he gestured to the door his wingspan had been blocking from view. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, flexing his biceps, and you almost swooned at the sight. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Your fist tightened around the shirt, fighting the urge to toss it back at him out of spite. Embarrassment felt like hot iron under your skin, so instead you snapped your attention to the door he had pointed out–the bathroom. You knew you’d averted your gaze much too fast to seem unaffected by him. He chuckled, and you glowered at him as his head tilted to the side, watching you with a bemused expression. He looked about ready to comment further, but you waved him off with faux-annoyance and an exaggerated roll of your eyes. Clutching his shirt close to your chest, you escaped into the bathroom.

Subtle.

Pressing your back to the door, it closed under your weight. You paused there for a moment to focus on your breathing, your frazzled mind going a mile a minute. This was all so far out of your comfort zone, it wasn’t even funny. You never had to deal with handsome males in The Court of Nightmares, Kier didn’t let you socialize long enough for it to even be on your radar. Dating hadn’t quite made your list of top priorities upon arriving in Velaris either.

What little experience you did have was with a male named Allistair. You’d met him at Rita’s within your first year above ground. It was a fling of sorts that lasted a few months before you decided casual dating wasn’t for you. He was a perfectly adequate lover. At least you think he was. He was also your only lover. A nice enough companion as you acclimated to your new life. The times you had been intimate with that male had left you feeling…bereft. Seeing Allistair shirtless had been nothing like seeing Azriel shirtless.

And Azriel calling you out for ogling him so blatantly? Mother have mercy.

So now you were just expected to fall asleep next to him wearing his shirt after that? The situation almost made you want to laugh at the absurdity of it all. The last thing you wanted was to draw his suspicion by loitering against the door for too much longer, so you moved to the sink. Maybe splashing lukewarm water on your face would reveal that this had all been a weird ass nightmare.

Cupping water into your face a couple more times, you took in the smeared makeup dripping down your face in the mirror. Definitely not a dream.

Azriel was going to think you were in love with him for fucksake.

Snatching the nearby hand towel from the rack on the wall you soaked it, and got to work on scrubbing your face clean. You had to have a little more faith in Azriel. He wouldn’t let a single weird moment ruin over two years of amicable teamwork. But your personal relationship with him felt fragile to you at best. You can't let some tattoos and abs mess up what you considered to be the most solid friendship you’d made among the Inner Circle.

So what if he was hot as hell? You could co-exist with attractive people, it was legit a part of your job. You could salvage the situation, just change out of the dress you accidentally matched to the colors of his siphons, put his shirt on that smelled so strongly of him it gave you a headrush, and face him like you hadn't just been drooling over him.

You know, simple.

The hem of his t-shirt landed just above your knees, and the comfort you found in it was criminal. The black fabric was very soft and so baggy that you worried the wing slits in the back would shift forward in your sleep. It could reveal a little more than what you’d considered 'tasteful side boob'.

Resisting the urge to fuss in the mirror (because it wasn't like you were trying to look cute for anyone, right?), you exited the bathroom clean faced and a bit more settled than when you had entered.

Your bravado, however, was short lived. Azriel faced away from you in only his underwear, the rest of his leathers added to the pile on the desk. He was organizing his various knives on the bedside table closest to the main door.

He looked over his shoulder at you. Totally not catching you checking out his butt in the tight underpants. Cauldron boil you. Would it be weird if you marched yourself back into the bathroom to try the whole “not affected by sexy, almost nude Illyrian warrior” thing again?

Azriel inhaled sharply, and you snuck a glance at him. His attention was back on his knives, but there was a tension to him, almost like he was brooding. There might have been a light blush over his cheeks, but you felt weird analyzing him anymore than you already had out of habit. You clocked the change in his body language for what it was the instant he saw you in his shirt. Clenched jaw, tense shoulders, spine ramrod straight, wide eyed before averting his gaze, elevated heart rate–classic signs of attraction. Reactions he clearly didn’t want you to notice.

"I'm taking this side." He informed almost absently, patting the mattress. Leaving you with the window side.

You wandered to the desk to avoid observing him further, wishing that you could turn off the part of you that always seemed to be prying for more information. And then you felt it, his thoughts getting louder, his emotions growing wilder, reaching out to you. You slammed your mental shields up hard, a gross feeling taking root when it was too late.

Protect. Azriel’s intentions conveyed to you. Protect. Comfort. Provide. Here you were invading his private thoughts without his knowledge, while he was concerned with your wellbeing. What was the point of all that effort Rhysand put into teaching you how to better control your mental shields? It never worked when you needed it most. The failure stung, and you had to busy yourself with folding your dress in a neat square so you had something to keep your hands from shaking.

It was quiet for too long, and you struggled with recalling what he had said to you before you’d lost control. Something about the bed. "Sounds good to me." You decide on saying, placing your dress next to his leathers.

Azriel didn’t seem to find your reply out of the ordinary. Small mercies.

"I'll be out in a few minutes, then." His voice was rougher than before, and it sent chills down your spine. As soon as you heard the bathroom door click shut you scurried into bed. You couldn’t get under the covers fast enough, pulling the blankets up to your neck with a hefty sigh of relief.

It felt awesome to be laying down after such a long evening on your feet. Too bad you couldn’t enjoy it more, instead drowning under waves of shame. Maybe you’d never get a full handle on your powers. Maybe the Mother was teaching you a lesson in this life? You couldn’t fathom what the moral could be. You wanted more than anything to be able to mind your business.

You wished you could turn your brain off. Alas, even your guilt couldn’t stop you from reflecting and organizing what you’d just observed. Not only had you heard his intentions, but you also felt them. Unlike the sweet warmth of his thoughts, his gaze had felt like desire and bad decisions.

He didn’t seem like he was actively seeking to bed you. You reasoned that you were also an available female wearing nothing but his shirt and a pair of panties. You could only imagine how all of that must have chafed against his Illyrian instincts. Rhysand had once mentioned that Illyrians were possessive and protective at best, controlling and jealous at their worst.

Surely those possessive instincts were what you were picking up on, then. You were covered in his scent after all. That was the only logical explanation for his reaction, his instincts were telling him to protect you because you were vulnerable and wearing his clothing. Even if it didn’t quite sound right to you, it was the only explanation you were willing to entertain. You were barely friends, there was no way Azriel wanted to court you. The thought sent a fleeting pang of disappointment through you that you refused to examine.

Whatever. There wasn’t anything you could do to make the situation less messy right now. You were exhausted, and stewing on scenarios that would never amount to anything real was unlike you.

Snuggling further into the sheets, you decided it was best to just pretend you hadn’t noticed shit. The damage was done, Azriel wasn’t dumb, he at least knew he had flustered you. You weren’t going to draw any more attention to that tonight. Or tomorrow. Or ever. Everything about this night was a fluke.

Azriel returned from the bathroom, and you kept your focus on fluffing your pillows. Sitting up you tossed an extra pillow onto the floor, and you could feel as soon as his eyes landed on you that some of his…instincts…were still acting up. You pulled the comforter back up to your neck as he got into bed next to you. Turning on your side to face him you were determined to be normal. No more awkward gawking allowed tonight.

He stretched his arms up above his head, his joints popping a million times as he groaned in relief. You couldn't help chuckling at him, the fearsome Shadowsinger of the Night Court, doing something so mundane.

Scooting further onto the bed, Azriel rolled over to meet your gaze, his wings tucked close to his back as he settled. Most of his wingspan spilled over the side of the bed anyway. He surveyed you, eyes lingering along your tired but genuine smile, and you saw the stern tenseness slowly leave his body. "You sure you're comfortable with this?" He asked.

Your smile turned a tad warmer. This male was just so kind, so different from what you knew in Hewn City. "I am, I trust you Azriel." It was the truth. You didn't have friends growing up, and although you may have a long way to go before Azriel truly called you his friend, you considered him a dear (sexy) friend.

Your words seem to settle something in him, and you could have sworn you saw something almost affectionate flash across his face. You blink, and it's gone, but the fuzzy feeling it left in your chest remains.

Like he sensed your mushy thoughts, he ruined the moment. "So I have to ask you something, it’s serious.”

Your brows raised in bemused interest, the scenario with him wishing to court you snapping to the forefront of your mind again. He’d always been very attentive to you, but in a worried protective way. You’d never picked up on any romantic intentions from him before, and he’s not the type to make a decision like that on a whim. The chance was small, but you couldn’t 100% rule out him wanting to ask you out. Could you say no to him? Would you even want to say no? You’d never considered this as an option before!

He held your gaze, as if for dramatic effect and then with the seriousness of a top notch spymaster he asked you, “You have seen a shirtless male before...right?"

Maybe it was a mistake to consider this male kind, he was a menace all along.

You had never rolled your eyes so hard at someone. Unbelievable.

Turning away from him with enough force to toss your hair in his face, you are rewarded with the sound of his indignant grunt.

"Can you turn the light off please?" You snap, unable to rein in your annoyance. Unsettled by how it tasted almost like rejection.

"You didn't answer my question." He goaded, and you fell right for it.

"Yeah, because it's a silly question." You fire back.

He hummed at your response, "Doesn't seem like you think it's a silly question."

You would rather swallow your own tongue than admit to Azriel that you’d seen shirtless males, but he had been the first you’d enjoyed seeing shirtless.

Done with the line of questioning, you blindly flung your arm back, swatting at him. He startled at the contact, and he exhaled a scoff when you didn't stop flopping your arm at him after the first blow.

He caught your wrist, stilling your flailing. "Fine, fine, I'll drop it," He let go of your wrist, “for now.”

You shifted to burrow further into your pillows, totally not dwelling on how his big hand wrapped around your wrist made you feel dainty. The texture of his scars hadn’t made your heart skip a beat either. Nope. Not at all.

"Could you shut the light off please." You asked again with more venom than you intended. It bothered you how easy this male could get under your skin. He wasn’t even trying.

You felt his weight shifting, the bed frame squeaking a bit as he moved. "Anything for you, Princess." He shuffled a little more, and then the light went off, casting the both of you in darkness.

The nickname made you grimace into your pillow. No one had ever called you that before, and you really didn’t want it to catch on.

You felt him return to the position on his side facing you. Some moments passed in loud silence, and although you were the one that let the conversation drop, the residual tension in the room was killing you. There was no way you would be able to fall asleep, and you would bet that Azriel was stewing in the tension too.

"Az?" You whispered. His response was quick like he’d been waiting on edge for you to speak, "Yes?"

"Goodnight." And you found yourself meaning it. You hoped he got some sleep tonight despite the turmoil he had so effortlessly sowed in your stomach with his teasing. The prick.

You could practically hear the mischief in his voice. "Sleep well, princess."

Ugh. Your stomach coiled, but not in an entirely unpleasant way. Very dangerous. It was an inappropriate reaction, and you wrote it off as stress. However as hard as you wished to forget it, you wouldn’t be forgetting how Azriel had made you feel that night anytime soon.

Even your racing thoughts couldn’t stop sleep from finding you, putting you out of your misery.

And if you woke up to the sounds of song birds that morning, your face pressed against Azriel's neck, your body sprawled atop him while he slept on his back, then that was your business. No one would know if you relished being in his arms a few minutes longer than necessary. You wouldn’t confirm nor deny if one of his hands had looped through a wing hole of his borrowed shirt, his fingers resting just under your breast.

And so what if it had been the best sleep you'd gotten since leaving Hewn City. And if Azriel seemed more well rested than usual on your return to the Night Court, you certainly didn't notice that either.

XxXx

Next Chapter

#azriel x reader #acotar #azriel x you #friends to lovers #slow burn #one bed trope #one shot #one shot series #azriel #my writing #kayjaywrites #like bugs in a rug

[coralinnii]

Hi! I saw that you were opening your requests for the next day or so to celebrate getting 2.7k followers! First off, I wanna say congratulations, and may you have a good day/night (almost wrote 'not' lol)!

Anyways, I read your rules, and wondered if I could get a fic with Leona, Vil, Malleus, and Lilia being in a relationship with a Venti! Reader? Essentially, Venti is a Genshin Impact character who plays the lyre, controls the wind, and has a playful personality.

‧₊˚✧ As Free as the Wind ‧₊˚✧

↳ Twst guys with a Venti!reader 

feat: Leona ❋ Vil ❋ Malleus ❋ Lilia  genre: humor, mild fluff note: no pronouns were used with the reader, Venti!reader is of legal age to drink, no spoilers regarding the Genshin Impact storyline, minor spoilers for TWST Book 7

Thank you reading my rules, always appreciate the extra effort people make! I deeply apologize for how late I am with this, but I hope you enjoy the post. Hopefully I captured Venti's personality well enough >_<'

2.7K Followers Writing Event 2023

Ooff, did he first thought you were a pain in his tail. 

Loud, cheeky, no fear of disturbing anyone for entertainment or favors… at least Ruggie has the decency to be useful. 

He scoffed when you smile and act as if he can’t sense a dangerous well of power within you, the playful persona you present may fool a common man but not Leona.  

He’ll play your game though. There’s no benefit to him to pry into your secrets. He finds this side of you, the one that would play a soft ballad for him for some booze money, much easier to deal with. 

This is a strange relationship, but Leona can respect someone strong and most of all, doesn't tell him what to do. You believe in free will and freedom above else, which Leona appreciates. 

“The concept of one king ruling over all... I can’t say I’m too interested in a land like that.” 

Leona laughed at your boldness. With you, there’s no sense about stuffy responsibilities and obligations. 

There are sweet days where you and Leona would spend the day in the greenhouse, Leona sleeping soundly as you play your lyre while humming your new poems, the wind carrying your melodic voice. 

“Huh, do you have a song for me? Hah, what do you want from me this time? Fine, I’ll let you play.”

Vil immediately clocked something powerful about you, your nonchalant persona is good, but you cannot fool a seasoned actor like him. 

No matter, though. Vil has no interest in delving into someone’s past like that. Vil assumes that if you must act so easy-going yet private about yourself, then he won’t pry into such things. One must have reasons, he supposed. 

However, Vil cannot let go of your pension for the “occasional” drink or two. Vil doesn’t care that you are older than your appearance suggest, alcohol impacts your body and health as you age so he rather you limit that little habit of yours. 

“Come now, Vil. Another bottle wouldn’t hurt~” 

“Hmmph, you don’t have to worry much about yourself when you’re drunk but I most certainly do, especially when you come to me reeking of wine.”

But you always managed to quell his anger by singing ballads and poems about your wonderful beloved Vil. That always lifts the Housewarden’s mood and you end up with a mere reprimanding. Hehe.

Vil will not, however, forgive you so easily if you get too mischievous with him. The beautiful man can respect your talent with wind and currents, but he doesn’t appreciate the gust you would conjure up if it messes up Vil’s appearance too much. 

“Don’t even think about running away from me. I know you were behind the sudden rush of wind, my mischievous one. Acting cute or sweet words is not going to work this time.”

However youthful you may appear, Malleus can sense an old soul within you which feels familiar and powerful. 

Malleus is often surprised by you, for your playful and bold nature while handling the wild winds as skillfully as you hold the lyre. You bear similarities to a certain someone that he can’t help but respect you and hold you to a higher regard than any typical being. 

Malleus doesn’t hate that easygoing personality of yours. On the contrary, he enjoys that spontaneous side of yours as you suggest the strangest of ideas to a powerful figure such as him. 

“Let's go jumping in puddles and see who can make the biggest splash!“

You are a sociable being, making friends so easily that it baffles the young fae. A few cute words from you and it was suddenly so easy to lower one’s guard around you. 

However, when you’re alone and don’t realize his presence, Malleus catches that gleam of loneliness in your eyes as you gaze from your tall resting spot. A look that Malleus feels a kinship with you in that regard.

”You would like to take a stroll with me tonight? Oh, a race in the sky, you say? Very well, but don't be conceited enough to believe I’m so easily bested.”

Dear Sevens, why would you ever let these two chaotic gremlins be in the same vicinity? Do you know no mercy for others?  

The two of you would hit it off so well, it’s almost concerning. Lilia finds you a delight to be around, almost a kindred spirit even. 

“So, you also took care of a dragon long ago.” 

“Yeap, but he sorta became a nation-wide threat when I decided to leave and go off on my own.” 

“Ah yes, those things do tend to happen.” 

(if you can’t tell who’s saying what, that really speaks to how similar a coincidence that was)

Jamming sessions ALL. THE. TIME. The campus has not known a single moment of rest as you display your musical talents in the courtyard while Lilia encourages you all the way, occasionally playing along with an instrument of his own.

Lilia is fascinated by your lyrical retellings of your world and would love to visit this kingdom that values freedom among all else, and of this dandelion wine you speak so lovingly about.

As a man with his own… history, Lilia isn’t the type to ask too much about you if he sees you dodging the question. He can recognize that familiar look of longing and loss, so Lilia doesn’t press further and instead indulge with you in one more glass of bittersweet wine. 

“What tales do you have to regale for tonight? I’m always captivated by these grand adventures of yours, it’s almost tempting for this old soul of mine, hehe.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #leona kingscholar #leona kingsholar x reader #twst leona #twst leona x reader #vil schoenheit #vil x reader #vil shoenheit x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #twst malleus #lilia vanrouge #twst lilia #twst lilia x reader #lilia x reader #2.7k followers event

[dustofthedailylife]

A Fennec Fox's Guide To Botany

→ Masterlist || → Taglist

Summary: Tighnari comes back from a day of work and is greeted by yet another new patient who has consumed poisonous mushrooms in the forest. That it would be another fennec fox he'd have to save is a surprise - yet not an unwelcome one.

Pairing: Tighnari x Fennec Fox!Reader (gn!)

Tags: Fluff, SFW, mentions of food poisoning and corresponding symptoms (Reader)

A/N: Back with a new fic! This is the first time I wrote something for Tighnari outside of headcanons and I hope I managed to portray his character well. I brainrotted about the idea of this fic a while ago and just couldn't get it out of my head. Hope you like it! :3

→ Part 2 (A Fennec Fox's Guide to Love)

Today had been a rather uneventful day in Avidya Forest. Now that Irminsul was cured, thanks to the efforts of the Traveler, the number of Withering Zones that still remained throughout the forest steadily decreased every day and they were generally easier to deal with, too. Additionally, Collei was as energetic as ever now that her Eleazar was cured. 

Though just as Tighnari came back from patrol training with Collei Amir, the Search and Rescue Dog Trainer of the Forest Watchers hurriedly ran in their direction as soon as he spotted them back at the camp.

“Master Tighnari!”, he panted breathlessly and came to a halt in front of the pair.

“Amir? What’s wrong? Did the dogs eat poisonous mushrooms like last time?”, Tighnari retorted half amused.

There really was always something, wasn’t there? He should be surprised but he really wasn't anymore. There goes his chance of getting some downtime for once.

“No! Well… yes. I mean, no, not directly.”, Amir stammered.

“Well, what is it now? Yes or no?”

“Please just come with me and take a look.”, Amir prattled on before he quickly hurried back towards the medical hut.

Tighnari didn’t know what was going on yet but his gut feeling told him that it meant nothing good. It wasn’t rare that he was called over to assist with a patient but never before had he seen Amir so anxious.

As he pushed past the entrance of the hut he found Amir and another Forest Ranger standing in front of the bed where he could vaguely make out the legs of a heavily shivering person. If he had to take a wild guess it was likely yet another fool who couldn’t tell a poisonous mushroom apart from an edible one. The usual tourist; they ate everything they could find on the forest floor.

Tighnari sighed deeply and pushed past the others towards the bed and that’s where he found you lying. He stopped dead in his tracks the moment he saw you. You were a fennec fox just like him. The fur on your features was mainly golden-beige colored and had a color gradient toward the tips of your tail and ears that matched your hair color.

Your ears were flattened downwards against your head, your eyes were pressed shut and your mouth was pulled into a pained grimace. Beads of sweat were running down your forehead as you were writhing on the bed with your hands clasped over your stomach and your tail tucked in between your legs.

The anger that had been welling up inside the pit of his stomach the entire way here was gone the second he laid eyes on you. 

All these years he spent thinking he was the only Fennec fox left in Sumeru and then you suddenly appear out of nowhere with a strong food poisoning. As much as he wanted to be as annoyed as he usually was towards tourists, he couldn’t quite bring himself to be. Especially not when you looked so incredibly beautiful. It felt wrong to him to think about something like this in the current situation but he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. 

“What happened?”, he questioned Amir without averting his gaze.

“We found them while on patrol. They begged us to help them because they were in horrible pain, babbling something about eating mushrooms and that they were hungry… as soon as we arrived here they started hallucinating and were completely unresponsive. They seem to be deteriorating fast.”, Amir explained with a quivering voice. He looked like he was scared out of his mind and close to tears.

“Did they mention what they ate?”, Tighnari inquired, trying his hardest to keep his composure because if he didn't you'd be a goner. 

He found himself thinking that it is lucky he returned right on time because no matter how good his Forest Rangers otherwise were when it came to medical emergencies or unprecedented incidents, they were completely unfit to deal with them.

“They mentioned something about a… red starshroom with white dots, I think?”

“Star Death Cap… abdominal pain, nausea, fever, hallucinations. Highly poisonous…”, Tighnari mumbled to himself as he rummaged inside the medical cabinet in the corner of the room. He took out several medical supplies and a small bottle containing a bright green liquid.

“Master, can you still help them?!”, Amir hysterically interrupted while nervously dancing around on the spot behind Tighnari.

“Not if you keep making me nervous, Amir. Leave, both of you. I need room to think.”, he bit back.

Amir waved to the other Forest Ranger who had been present the entire time as well and quickly left the hut with a worried frown painted on his face.

Tighnari took a deep breath and pulled a chair in front of the bed where you were lying. He took out a flashlight and pulled your eyes open with his the pad of his thumb to test the reaction of your pupils; and if he was being honest things weren’t looking too good. Your eyes barely reacted to the light at all and you didn’t even seem to properly notice him. Even though he knew from himself that fennec foxes had a high toxin resistance, he still needed to act, otherwise, things were looking grim for you.

He stood up from his chair again and went to grab the cup with the medicine he had concocted for this specific type of mushroom, although he has never had to use it before since people usually didn’t eat the mushroom you seemed to have consumed. It was bright red and basically screamed “danger, don’t eat me”. Although that didn’t seem to be enough to stop you from eating it. If you were going to make it, he’s got to ask you what in Celestia you were thinking.

He lifted the cup to your face and carefully aligned it with your lips when you suddenly grabbed his wrist and looked directly at him.

“A-are you a god?”, you breathed out through pants while you stared at him with eyes wide-blown in surprise.

“What?”, he startled. You were probably hallucinating again, but even though he was very much aware of that, he couldn’t stop his heart from beating an octave higher. “No. N-no! I’m Tighnari, I’m a Forest Watcher.”

“You’re the Dendro Archon!”, you revered and clutched one hand into the fabric of his sweater as soon as you saw the Dendro vision dangling on his hip. He tried to loosen your grip on him again in order to not spill the medicine you so desperately needed to take but you held onto him for dear life.

You pulled yourself up and snaked your arms around his neck, your fluffy tail slowly swaying from left to right behind you while you nuzzled your head against his cheek with a soft hum. Your soft ears brushed against his cheek and he could feel the heat that emanated from your body. The poison in your system was causing you to burn up rapidly. If he didn’t hurry up now the protein in your cells would start to coagulate and he couldn’t let that happen.

“I’ve dreamt about you a lot. I’ve always wanted to meet you… and to think you’re so handsome, too.”, you rambled on, making his heart flutter uncontrollably in his chest. “If I make it you have to promise to give me a kiss.” If you were planning to keep going like that it was he who soon needed medical attention instead.

Despite you making his head spin, Tighnari decided to take advantage of your hallucination-induced confusion and used his “role” as the Dendro Archon to make you comply so he could finally make you take the much-needed medicine. 

“I’ve come to help you. It is my job as the deity of Sumeru to protect its citizens and I have sensed that you are in grave danger.”, Tighnari vowed. He could feel your grip on his sweater loosen and saw you look deep into his eyes, flattening your ears against your head in awe again. “Will you let me help you?”

You slowly nodded and let him raise the cup with the medicine to your lips. You felt a light burn shoot through your system as soon as the bitterness of the medicine enveloped your tastebuds. You contorted your face due to the unpleasant taste and soon after felt how your eyelids suddenly grew heavy, making you fall into a deep slumber.

Once you had fallen asleep in his arms Tighnari carefully tucked you in and rested your head on the pillow. He softly brushed over your hair and ears before smiling to himself. All you needed now was a good night’s sleep and you’d be as good as new.

As soon as the sun rose over Avidya Forest the next morning, Tighnari went back to the medical hut to check on your condition. He had brewed some tea and prepared some pita pockets for you to eat since he figured you must be hungry. He had thought about making his signature mushroom hodgepodge for you but considering that you had just overcome mushroom poisoning, you probably wouldn’t be eager to eat them again immediately.

When he entered the hut he found you sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard and eagerly staring at him.

“Good morning! Welcome back from the dead!”, Tighnari greeted you.

“Ehe, good morning.”, you awkwardly chuckled, scratching yourself behind your ears while avoiding his gaze. “Thanks for saving my butt yesterday.”

“That’s what we do here. You somehow managed to consume one of the rarest and most poisonous mushrooms in the entire rainforest.”, he explained.

“Guess that is just my luck, as usual.”

"You're lucky fennec foxes have a high poison resistance."

"We do?"

"We do.", he nodded with a small smile. You were beyond adorable to him.

Tighnari passed you a cup of the herbal tea he brought along with him, as well as one of the pita pockets, which you hungrily devoured like someone who hasn’t had anything to eat in a week.

“Say, what made you eat the mushroom anyway?”

You awkwardly averted your gaze again while you felt the blood rush to your cheeks in embarrassment. You were incredibly ashamed about your absolute incompetence, especially because of the attractive man in front of you, who just happened to be a fox like you, too.

“This is kind of awkward… but I’m from the desert and am about to start as an Amurta scholar at the Akademiya in a couple of months. I wanted to get acquainted with the local botany and… I kind of got lost in the forest and eventually was so starved I started collecting mushrooms.”

You were supposed to become an Amurta scholar and managed to consume the most poisonous mushroom in the entire forest. It was so ironic that Tighnari wasn’t able to hold back his laughter which flustered you even further and made your ears droop. At least the fact that you were from the desert explained why you didn’t understand the local flora and fauna.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh at you.”, he said as he wiped a tear out of the corner of his eyes. “It’s just a bit ironic is all.”

“Yeah… I know. I’m kind of embarrassed about it as well. I can’t make a bigger fool out of myself at this point.”, you awkwardly chuckled.

“Mhhh, I don’t know about that, you thought I was the Dendro Archon yesterday and called me handsome.”, Tighnari casually remarked. “Oh, and then then you made me promise to give you a kiss if you end up making it.”

You spat your tea out in full force following his last sentence. How was he able to recite it so casually when your heart was about to burst out of your chest? Archons, how embarrassing.

“I take that back… apparently I can make an even bigger fool out of myself. Forgive me.”, you retorted, pulling your ears over your eyes with your hands in an attempt to hide behind them. And while it was correct, you did think he was incredibly attractive, you had probably ruined every chance with him after this encounter anyway.

Contrary to your beliefs however, Tighnari thought you were beyond pretty and adorable. Even more so when you were flustered.

“Well, coincidentally this handsome Dendro Archon happens to have graduated from Amurta. So, if you’re willing, I could give you a quick rundown of the local botany.”, he proposed cheekily but not without a blush starting to bloom across his own cheeks as well.

“You would do that for me? That definitely sounds like it could save me from trouble like this again in the future.”, you agreed with an awkward chuckle as your tail began to wag.

“Perfect. You’re free to rest here as long as you like before we start your personal crash course… oh and by the way, the name’s Tighnari, pleased to meet you.”, he introduced himself, stretching his hand out for you to shake; unknowingly making both of your hearts flutter in unison.

“I’m pleased to meet you, too.”

What a curious little fox you were. He couldn’t wait to get to know you better. After all, he still had to fulfill the promise he gave you.

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

#genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #tighnari x reader #tighnari x y/n #tighnari x you #genshin fluff #genshin drabbles #genshin scenarios #genshin headcanons #genshin x female reader #genshin x gn reader #tighnari #genshin crack #genshin x you #genshin fanfiction #🍁 dust writes

[ts19009]

Seventeen Fic Rec's Part 3

(CONTAINS SMUT AND MATURE SUBJECT MATTER)

(Bold title means favorite)

(UPDATED: March 12th, 2024)

O13

Seventeen's reaction to you asking them for a baby @j0shuasw1fey

Tales from Camp Masterlist (Thirteen friends reconnect on a camping trip, reminiscing about their times as camp counselors when they were in college.) @kwanisms

✤ Losing It. (masterpost) ✤ (A series of having virginities given to you. Sometimes they throw said virginity at you with full force, other times, they lovingly hold your hand, bat their lashes, and say some of the dumbest shit you’ve ever heard a man say in regards to getting laid for the first time. ) @ncteez

Kim Mingyu

Always // oneshot (Sometimes, one man's burden is everything another man has ever wished for.) @spamgyu

When I Kissed the Teacher (science teacher mingyu, grammar teacher reader, meddling students, crushes, flirting, lots of candy and coffee) @highvern

Read All About It (Anonymous Life and Sex writer, Not Carrie Bradshaw, takes on a 30-day challenge with her boyfriend, Min. How wild fans would go to find out they're none other than Kim Mingyu and his girlfriend?) @highvern

Hot Wheels [M] (Co-Workers to Lovers, Fluff, Humor, Smut 18+) @milfgyu

𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖶𝖺𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝖧𝗈𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝖧𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽 (fake marriage au!, fluff, angst, smut (18+ mdni) @wonustars

There's a snake in my pants (Crack/humour. Some fluff. Established relationship. Himbo Mingyu! [I love himbo Gyu]) @whipped-for-kpop-fics

Cross My Heart (Your crush Mingyu wants (to eat) you.) @minisugakoobies

Like A Cowboy Part 2 of 4 (Mingyu only needs to wake up with you once to decide he'll do whatever is necessary to do it every day; even if it means letting you help him outside and figuring out how to help you inside, it's worth it.) @sluttywoozi

Let our lips lock, baby (Friends to lovers smut. Fluff. They are in LOVE okay. Birthday boy Gyu <3) @whipped-for-kpop-fics

I can do it for you (After years dealing with everything alone, you stumble upon an old wishbook from your past. And you jokingly writes down your ideal boyfriend, Mingyu. To your surprise, Mingyu magically appears in your couch.) @hoshifighting

here and now. (secret!agent!mingyu x secret!agent!reader, established relationship) @writingmeraki

Jeon Wonwoo

heads up! stardew. they r gaming. @nonranghaes

Cookies and Cream (academic rivals to lovers, smut, heart wrenching and tooth rotting fluff (wonwoo is down bad bad)) @seokgyuu

April Shower (Wonwoo meets a lot of people through his career as a travel photographer. Not one of them has ever made him want to stay in one place, until he met you.) @sluttywoozi

HEAVEN (wonwoo has a reputation for being distant, quiet and a bit mysterious. once you get to know him better, though, you come to find the sweet, shy boy underneath the surface.) @sanakiras

Patterns (Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. So what does it mean when you find yourself in Wonwoo's bed over and over again?) @highvern

Daylight (between the endless flirty banter or secret looks of longing, the line between you and your boss had always been slightly blurred. But when a night out with friends has you and your boss meeting for the first time outside of the workplace, that line starts to become nonexistent as mutual feelings are brought to light.) @moonscriptsx

✦ sugar & spice (bodyguard!wonwoo x celebrity!reader) @etherealyoungk

Hong Jisoo

city lights series | joshua hong (M) [ongoing] (rock singer joshua, neighbours with benefits) @hannieween

best friend’s brother (This had me crying ugly tears. its my fav) (imestep, romance, angsty angst, major feels abt having a crush, lots of flirting, smut, drama, happy tears.) @chocosvt

not according to plan | hjs (fake dating, strangers to friends to ?? | fluff, slight angst, smut) @the-boy-meets-evil

Expiration Date (2/2) (artist!joshua x model!fem!reader) @number1mingyustan

Birds of a Feather ( joshua hong x f reader) @onlymingyus

Timestamp! Aquamarine Au! @mysafehaneul

on second thought (where your roommate, wonwoo, has an interesting solution to all your bad dates. nothing can go wrong with two friends crossing a line, can it?) @the-boy-meets-evil

Yoon Jeonghan

"lovie" (all the ways jeonghan uses your nickname) @cherryredcheol

Titty-Shirt! (18+) (pervert!rollercoaster operator!jeonghan x bigtiddie!fem!reader) @beefboyandbabygirl

love café (while you’ve spent the last few months pretending the love café doesn’t exist, you realize you need its services now more than ever. this brings you face to face with jeonghan, the son of a luxury fashion designer who’s got money to burn. your exchanges are strictly business. until they’re not) @chocosvt

five ways to say "i love you" - jeonghan (how jeonghan shows his love to you, through all five love languages) @p0ckykiss

Xu Minghao

To all the love letters I wrote but never sent (fluff, best friends to lovers) @welcometomyoasis

Birthday Gift l Xu Minghao (It's your birthday and Minghao wants to give you your present!) @jenoslutie

Lee Seokmin

Beautiful Liar (mafia au, dark romance? angst, smut.) @starlightx

Epistolary Yearning (epistolary form, historical fantasy, romance | smut) @himbocoups

Nice Guys Finish First (After a first date with the sweetest man you've ever met, thanks to a mutual friend, you're more than willing to silence his doubts and show him how sexy he was to you.) @celestiababie

midnight rain | lsm (after seven years away, you finally return home. meeting seokmin again wasn't in your plans, but life wasn't willing to let you have it your way.) @wongyuuu

#joshua hong smut #joshua x y/n #kim mingyu #mingyu #seventeen fic #seventeen imagines #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #wonwoo #wonwoo smut

[violetsiren90]

Evergreen | Bang Chan/Reader

Pairing: wolf hybrid!Bang Chan x human!f!Reader

(A Nothing But You universe fic)

Genre: hybrid AU; one-shot; established relationship; domestic fluff; slice of life; mountain living; pregnancy

Word Count: 1689

Summary: Seasons change, life moves on - but some things stay the same.

Content Warning: PG-13 for themes but my page and all its content are 18+ (minors, dni); wolf hybrid rut; mentions of knotting and marking; mentions of rut symptoms that include insomnia and lack of appetite; deep emotions; the use of "your" and "belonging" in the sense of committed love NOT ownership; pregnancy; mentions of different states of undress; domesticity and shared domestic responsibility; homesteading; Chris being the sweetest and most caring 😭💕; Chris chopping wood 😳; mentions of food and eating; implications of sexual intimacy, parenthood

Author's Note: I guess I went and fell in love with these two. This is a companion one-shot to Nothing But You. This one-shot is a different flavor, not as soft and cozy all the way through - there are more notes here, I think. Some sweeter, some sharper, but in the end, it's still them. I wanted to peek into their lives and see how they lived and loved. 🥰

If no one has told you yet today, please know that you are so loved, and so worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

~January~

Snow burdens the branches of the pines, the bitter North wind whistling between the trees, through the darkness, and over the blanket of fresh powder shrouding the forest floor. The mountains are sleeping, but your wolf is awake.

He nearly collapses, sinking to his knees as he shuts the cabin door. You spring up from your place by the fire to rush to him, but he holds up a hand, a growl rumbling low in his chest. You freeze. Panting, he slowly raises his face. Snowflakes cling to his lashes and dust over his head and shoulders. The dusky circles under his brown eyes speak of weariness, yet their expression is dark and wild. His nose is flushed from the chill. Beads of sweat quiver on his brow.

The fever still hasn't broken.

It appeared two days ago, with other sudden changes. Christopher has grown restless and short-tempered, and won't sleep in your bed. He smells intoxicatingly of cedar wood and amber.

You've been through it all before, his annual rut at the end of winter - four days of watching him endure the throes of primal agony. He would steal away at night, to hunt, your proximity far too overwhelming for his heightened senses and desires. Unchecked he would fail to stop himself. He would take you, mark you, knot you.

He hadn't in the four years you'd shared a bed and the comfort of the other's flesh. You'd spoken of the mating rites, but he always held off, afraid to break you. So protective of you always, and without a second a thought to himself.

You respected his space, his wishes, attempting to help him navigate the torment of his natural longings as best you could.

But this year it had taken him like a wild fire. The fever wouldn't break. He wouldn't sleep or eat. And now, here he was, half frozen and shivering on the floor.

No more.

You slowly cross to pull him up against his weak protesting. You peel away his frost-damp clothes and drag his heavy frame to rest upon the bed. With his last strength he tries to push you away, but you slip under the blankets beside him, pulling him into your arms.

His eyes flutter shut as he curls against you and nuzzles into your neck, whimpering that when he wakes it will be too hard for him to hold back.

You tell him not to try.

You tell him that you need him, want him - all of him. This part too, with all the others.
You assure him softly that you're not afraid, nor should he fear to make you his...you already belong to one another, after all.

You whisper that you love him.

Christopher exhales, tears trickling down his cheeks to mingle with the sweat and melted snow. You hold him to your breast, brushing soft kisses into his hair.

Cedar wood and amber.

~April~

You shake out a flannel shirt, crinkled and bunched from wringing to hang it on the line that stretches from the side of the cabin to a young yellow birch within the clearing. You smile as you fasten it with clips. He had worn it on the first day he visited the diner. It was faded then, and it has grown more timeworn still. But the fabric is thick, the seams hand-sewn, and if the dye has begun to abandon the thread it is only ever the softer. 

Strong and soft, like him.

The warblers are singing in the branches of the white pines as they busily fashion their nests. You stroke a hand down over the little bump of your belly, musing over the nesting that has started to change the trappings of your own little home. There's still plenty of time, but Christopher's excitement has poured forth in the form of hard work, and you're certain that when your time comes he'll have stored by enough for the next three winters yet.

You hear the rumbling of his truck a ways off. He left in the wee hours, the bed loaded down with wares to sell to suppliers in town. By the time you've strung up the last piece of washing he's already at the mouth of the trail, his arms laden with flowers and parcels wrapped in brown paper. The light wash of his denim shirt brings out the early kisses of the spring sunshine on his honeyed skin.

You follow him into the house where he puts your wildflowers into a vase and insists that you sit while he tends to lunch. Unwrapping the brown paper packages you find a set of pretty maternity pajamas, a box of chocolates, and the goat's milk soap you like. 

He's already eaten half his sandwich when he sets yours down, and you tug his wrist, pulling him into a chair to prevent him from setting out to work yet again. 

When the dishes are cleared you won't let him leave. He'd work every second of every day and well into many nights if you let him. But today you want him to rest. It's a mild and lovely afternoon and the chores are done. Other things can wait.

You sit across his lap on the porch swing he built two summers before. Your arms encircle one of his as you rest your head on his shoulder. 

His lips brush your forehead as his thumb caresses the little curved scar where the slope of your shoulder meets your neck. The one that means you belong to him and no one else.

The birds sing and the swing creaks.


~July~

He calls you from around the other side of the house. You draw an arm over your dripping brow and struggle up from where you're crouched to spread a batch of plump, ripe blackberries between the screens of the drying rack. There are still so many. Some you'll turn into jam. Christopher will eat the rest. He loves them. You rest the colander still half-full with berries against the full swell of your belly, wrapping an arm about the rim to keep it in place. 

You're hot and uncomfortable these days. But, when the morning's work is through, you'll go down to the lake together to shed the day's heat in the cool, still waters. You'd been every afternoon that week. Christopher was a strong swimmer, and would stay in far longer while you sat on the shady bank with a book. When he finally quit the water yesterday, he'd never found his clothes - instead he'd pressed you back into the lush green grass and made you sigh his name. 

As you round the far side of the cabin your eyes catch his form. He stands under the sweltering sun, stripped down to pair of fitted khaki work pants and thick suede boots. His muscular chest is slicked with sweat and he stands, panting, with his weight pressed into his right hip. He holds an axe in his hand.

His mouth pulls up at the corner and his tail swishes at the site of you. You tuck yourself against him wrapping your free arm around his damp waist. Oh how you want to swim. To hold his strong body in the dark water.

He gestures with the axe at what he's fitted together with stripped pieces of soft pine. A little cradle. He nudges it with his foot, setting it to rock. You bring a blackberry to his lips and he accepts it.

You kiss him.

Salty skin and summer fruit.


~October~

Your eyes flutter open to the sound of little cries. You sit up and stretch, blinking in the softness of the early autumn light.

You inhale deeply. Cinnamon and hickory smoke.

Outside the air is growing crisp and the leaves of the deciduous trees are blushing and abandoning their hosts, covering the floor of the wood in their pageantry. Fruit and game have begun to grow scarce as the forest prepares to enter the long slumber of the colder months. Nights require fires more often than not.

There is a small fire crackling now. A little black cauldron hangs over the flames, and you can smell the porridge simmering within. The man you love sits in a rocking chair near the warmth, a little bundle in his arms. He looks up at you as you rise and he smiles. He's been all smiles lately. In fact, you don't think the little dimple has left his cheek since he met the tiny she-wolf in his arms two weeks ago.

He says she looks like you, but all you see in her beautiful little features is Christopher. She has two tiny fuzzy ears and a darling little tale.

You reach down to stroke her fat cheek and your heart aches.

It aches from love, so much of it.

When the doctor placed her in your arms a part of your heart that you hadn't known existed burst to beating. You thought you loved the man who had knitted her inside you as much as you were able, but you had been ignorant in that respect as well. When he took your daughter in his arms and looked down on her face you thought that there wasn't room in your chest for things so vast, so deep.

You named her Hannah, for the sister her father had lost. It meant "grace".

So fitting, you think.

You move your fingers into Christopher's curls and he looks up at you. His brown eyes are soft and warm. The lovely eyes you saw that first day at the general store - the same through every changing season.

The maple and the birch will wax and wane, but not the cedar, not the pine.

Some things will remain.

And he is evergreen.
 

-Fin-

#skz x reader #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz fanfic #skz fantasy au #hybrid #hybrid au #wolf chan #bang chan x reader #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst #bang chan x you #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x female reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids fan fic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids au #bang chan oneshot #skz oneshots #stray kids oneshot

[donustellaron]

All Grown up

Okay so this is my first published fic, this one's inspired by a Sukuna bot (shockingly), so no warnings honestly? Just pure fluff and love<33. This is a gojo x reader x geto, oh also male reader cuz I'm a guy and gay. Also this is kind of a sorcerer thingy but its not like explicitly mentioned.

When Sukuna's servants brought him a small child as food he decided to give the kid some time to grow before eating him, what he didn't expect was for him to get attached to the kid. Now the kid was 11 and practically his son.

Sukuna sighed, you were gonna be the death of him, you had just asked to go meet the Gojo clan's kid, Satoru Gojo. After a bit of thinking Sukuna replied, "Fine, go see this brat of theirs, maybe it'll amuse me." With Sukuna's permission, you ran off to go find the boy. Sukuna sighed again, he hoped you didn't get into any trouble, not because he cared for you...he just didn't want any inconveniences. So when you came back holding hands with the young Satoru Gojo he was pleasantly surprised, "Why do you have him with you?" he spoke in a confused and irritated tone. "Oh! Suku-nii this is Satoru Gojo, Satoru-chan this is my caretaker Sukuna," you exclaimed excitedly, "Suku-nii I wanted to play with Satoru-chan but his guards didn't let us leave the mansion so we snuck out!!" Sukuna's expression was a mix of curiosity, annoyance, and mild amusement. "So you snuck out just to play with this one?" You responded eagerly, "Satoru-chan is lonely so this'll be his first time playing!! We'll have tons of fun!!" It was clear to Sukuna that you were happy with having a playmate, "How adorable..." He muttered under his breath. "Well go ahead and play." Hearing that you grabbed Satoru's hand and ran off to play in Sukuna's palace.

Later that night the two kids were exhausted from all their shenanigans, Satoru especially had fun, he'd smiled more that evening than in his life. "By the way, I'm glad you brought me here." He grinned, thinking about how his parents were probably running wild. Suddenly you were hit with a great idea, you grabbed Satoru's hand again and ran to your Suku-nii.

Sukuna was having tea with Uraume when he sensed the cursed energy of the Gojo kid, he turned to the door, his face expressionless as you barged in. "SUKU-NI!!!!" You paused to take a breather, "Can Satoru-chan stay the night?? Please???" Sukuna pauses, considering your request.

Meanwhile, Uraume looks at all of you confused, soon enough Sukuna speaks, "Okay... fine. The brat can stay the night if he doesn't make a mess and behaves himself." He holds back laughter at Uraume's shocked face. You squeal in happiness and thank him. "Thank you thank you thank you!!!" And again, off you go with the Gojo kid.

Once it's time to sleep you and Satoru end up talking for hours until you both pass out in your pillow fort.

5 years later, you and Satoru are now 16, in terms of appearance you both have matured and are much taller and stronger than before, yet one thing remains unchanged: your unwavering bond and love for one another. You've spent these past 5 years together, enjoying a wide variety of activities and learning more about the world and each other with every passing day. Satoru's relationship with Sukuna is better now, he's still called a brat but in an affectionate way, when they return from school they always greet Sukuna and then head off to your room to hang out.

A year later they both meet another boy: Suguru Geto, you love him dearly and so does Satoru. A year later you, Satoru, and Suguru have formed an inseparable bond. The three of you are now 17, having grown closer to each other. At one point they end up losing their virginities to each other, it's clear to Sukuna that they are in love. Even so, he and Uraume are always ready to comfort you in your relationship woes.

Soon you're 28 and at your wedding, today's the day you get married to your amazing boyfriends. When Sukuna walks you down the aisle you can't help but cry, and so does he, his little kid grew up into a formidable man. After the ceremony you find him and Uraume talking to your husbands, you walk over and hug Sukuna, a faint smile on his face and a wide smile on yours, "Suku-nii..." His heart warms at the nickname you gave him all those years ago, he holds you tightly. He had witnessed your growth and development over the years, watching your love and devotion to your husbands. He calls your name and you look up at him, "Isn't this a lovely occasion? No need for tears kid, it warms my heart to see you and your beloveds bound in matrimony." You chuckle at his choice of words, "Suku-nii, thank you for taking care of me and letting me meet Satoru-chan and Suguru-chan all those years ago, thank you...Dad" Sukuna chokes up and feels tears welling in his eyes. He hugs you tightly, and you smile, you love your dad dearly. (and Uraume)

AHHH OMG. I'm ngl I almost cried during the wedding part....anyways I really love how this turned out !! And I hope you do too :))

#gojo x male reader #jjk x male reader #gojo satoru #geto x male reader #geto suguru #jjk x reader #sukuna #∞POSTSᯤ

[addicted-to-dc]

GK!Jason Todd x Bookseller!Reader - So Wilde

Yes, it's spelled like that for a reason XD. You can have another fic today, a gift from me to you. I love the little easter eggs and details in the Gotham Knights game so damn much.

Content: Fluff, accidental (illegal) drug use. Pretty tame, but I love this story so much.

----------------

Gotham has its ups and downs when it comes to being a resident, but no one can deny the beauty of the city itself. The amount of history in one block alone would make a visiting historian go crazy if it weren’t for the villains that plague the city.

Luckily for you, you’re in a neighborhood that’s well protected by the remaining vigilantes in the city. Most visitors to Wilde’s Books have mentioned Batman’s never-ending absence, but you usually reassure them that there’s more than just Batman in Gotham.

Leaning back, you continue to read your novel as the door opens. The bell rings loud enough for you to just notice. Leaning forward, you see it’s your favorite customer, Jason. Smiling, you bookmark your spot and stand up.

“Jason! Good to see you, I have your order right here,” you say, turning around to snag a group of bound books on a shelf. “I swear you’re going to read through the whole store at this rate.”

He chuckles, “It’s for the home library. It’s seriously overdue for new additions.”

You place the books on the counter, removing the receipt before sliding them closer to Jason. Suddenly, you remember what you were holding for him. “One sec, I have other stuff for you.”

Turning around, you dig around in your secret stash until you finally find two books. You know he’s going to love these. Dramatically, you place the additional books next to his order. Jason shakes his head with a chuckle, used to your antics, but his laugh gets cut short.

“Oh my god, you found it?”

He instantly picks up one of the books, a rare first edition of his favorite series he’s always ranting about. His eyes drift to the other book. It’s the follow-up novel.

“Both of them? You’ve really outdone yourself this time, (Y/N),” he says. He goes to pull out his wallet, but you shake your head.

“On the house, you practically keep this store open with your spending habits,” you smirk, reaching for a tote bag. “Plus, I owe you for the food last time.”

Your smile fades as you feel a sudden zing of pain run through your head. Massaging your temples, you try to massage the pain away.

“You good, (Y/N)?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, the pain slowly subsiding. “I picked up my meds yesterday and apparently, they switched to a new brand or something.”

Your hand immediately reaches for a tote bag to place the books in, needing to possibly close the shop and sit down. Everything feels too loose, the divide between your thoughts and actions quickly blurring. Sudden heat rushes over your body, morphing into pins and needles before you find yourself on the ground.

Jason crouches next to you. You’re unable to hear his words for a few seconds, until you finally come to your senses. “What happened?”

“You passed out. You need to stop taking these meds, clearly, they’re not helping,” he explains, slowly helping you lean up. “How’s your head?”

“Haven’t had any complaints yet,” you chuckle, a wince quickly appearing on your face. “Okay, one complaint.”

Your hand drifts to the back of your head, feeling around until you find a sizeable goose egg. Damn, you probably have a concussion.

“I’m gonna pick you up, okay?” he asks, waiting for you to nod. “I’m going to sit you on the counter.”

He lifts you up effortlessly, like you weigh as light as a book, and places you gently on the counter. You hold onto him tightly, head spinning as it tries to find its equilibrium again.

“Haven’t been this fucked up since college,” you joke, leaning slightly to the right until Jason intervenes. “Never had these symptoms before.”

He quickly sends a text on his phone before pocketing it, one of his hands on your waist to keep you from falling again. “Do you have the pill bottle on you?”

“Below the register, red bag,” you answer, watching as he digs through your random belongings until he finally finds it.

“Dr. Q?” He examines the bottle of pills, reading over the label until he receives a message. Jay quickly reads it. “How many doses have you taken?”

“Only two. What’s going on, Jay?”

He sighs, weighing his options before finally answering. “Dr. Q as in Harley Quinn?”

Your eyes widen as soon as he says the name, “What?!”

“You didn’t take enough, don’t worry,” he reassures you. “A few more and then we’d be worrying. Can you close the shop? You need to get food in your system to ride this out.”

You nod, “I will if it’s Big Belly Burgers.”

“You read my mind, let’s get you out of here,” he smiles, helping you to your feet. “Can’t have my favorite bookseller in such a state.”

His words make a huge smile grow on your face, but he misses it as he turns around to grab his books from the counter. Hope blooms in your chest. Maybe there is a chance with your favorite bookworm, but you’ll wait for another day. He opens the door, guiding you out until you’re outside and the door is locked.

Your eyes wander around until your eyes meet with his motorcycle. He stares at it, too, most likely thinking the same thing as you.

“Yeah, we’re not doing that. You okay with the bus?”

------

Likes, reblogs and comments are always welcome!

#gk!jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader

[the-marshals-wife]

Strangers Like Me (Orm Marius x Reader)

A/N: I love Orm so, so much, and I've wanted to write for him since my major obsession with the first movie back in 2019. The sequel was everything I could have wanted for his character, and now that he's had the perfect open ending to his cinematic story, I finally let the inspiration run wild. This is the longest fic I've ever posted, and I'm proud to say he was the muse that inspired it.

Description: Orm Marius/Ocean Master x Fem!Reader (human), friends to lovers | Warnings: suggestive themes, steaminess at the end, cataclysmic levels of fluff throughout | Setting: after The Lost Kingdom | Word count: 5.8k

Gif credit: user acecroft

Imagine Orm opening up to you about who he truly is, and wanting to be part of your world

If someone had asked you a few months ago where you liked to be most, you wouldn't have said the boardwalk. Now, it'd become your favorite place in the world. Not for the noisy crowds, overpriced deep-fried foods, or vendors overflowing with cheap beachwear and souvenirs for the tourists. Those things you could have done without. That is, until you met Orm. Ever since that fateful day, everything around you had transformed into something new and exciting. Today was no different.

"I can't believe you've never had a corn dog before," you say.

Orm walks alongside you, well into his second serving. "And I can't believe something this abysmal in appearance can taste so good," he replies before taking another bite.

"Seriously, what have you been eating all this time?" you ask, wiping the mustard from the corner of your mouth with a napkin.

He swallows before answering, "Fish, mostly."

He was completely serious, as usual.

"You really love seafood, don't you?"

"Where I'm from, it's just called food," he counters.

Once again, you found yourself wanting to ask where exactly that place was. The last time you inquired yielded little insight. He gave a vague reply to the tune of "somewhere far away" and quickly changed the subject. For a while, you'd assumed he was originally European or something like that. Yet the more time went on, the more difficult it became to believe in that explanation. There must be a reason he did not want to talk about it, and you knew when he was ready, he would probably tell you. Still, you couldn't help but wonder where he had come from, and why he had not showed up sooner.

"So, what did you think of your first corn dog?" you ask instead.

"It was excellent. And I imagine it will not be my last," he says, tossing the stick into a trashcan as you walk by, "I still don't understand the name though, if it's not made of dog."

"Me either, honestly," you laugh as you toss your trash as well, "I'll have to look it up sometime."

"Speaking of, I listened to the singer you told me about."

"You did? What did you think?!" you exclaim, almost bumping into a passerby in your excitement.

"She is quite good, vocally. But I do think Ms. Parton would have more success exposing her rival publicly," he suggests.

"I know you're not talking about Jolene right now," you burst out laughing, covering your mouth.

"Indeed. This Jolene is a siren. She lures men with her wiles, and then goes unpunished because of her beauty," he explains wholeheartedly, holding his arms behind his back.

"Well that's the point of the song. Dolly is calling her out," you remind, "Plus what about her man? Shouldn't he get some of the blame? Falling for Jolene when he's already in a relationship? I mean come on, he's talking about her in his sleep. That's pretty low."

"Indeed, he misses the treasure that is right in front of him because he too has no honor," he expounds, his expression turning thoughtful, "You're right. Ultimately, they're deserving of each other."

"See! I told you," you chuckle victoriously.

Orm shakes his head, "I could not be tempted by such a woman."

"Oh, I don't know. You heard Dolly. Her beauty is 'beyond compare'."

"That is merely a facade," he dismisses, waving his hand, "Besides, I have seen far more beautiful than her."

You're about to inquire about his remark, but then you realize he's looking over at you. You can only hold his attentive gaze a moment before averting your eyes toward your feet, heart fluttering.

The previous moment still hanging heavy in the air, you walk together quietly for a minute before Orm stops in front of a beachwear vendor.

"Now that is amusing," he declares.

You backup a couple of steps to stand alongside him, "What is?"

He points to a pink tee shirt, the image of a mermaid riding on the back of a smiling dolphin printed on the front. "Dolphins are actually quite aggressive. They do not enjoy having riders on their backs. Sharks are much better mounts."

You stare at him, brow furrowed. "And how do you know that exactly?"

"I, uh, saw it on a television program," he stutters, "about taming sea life."

That was a lie if you'd ever heard one, and a strange one no less.

"Uh-huh," you reply unconvinced, walking away.

In silence, you resume your short walk to the end of the dock, Orm trailing close behind you. Once you reach the end, you lean over and rest your arms on the weathered wood railing, and he stands beside you. A few moments pass as you watch the waves crash upon the shore below and breathe in the salt air. It's not long before you feel his gaze on you once again.

He finally speaks, hesitation thick in his voice, "Something...on your mind?"

You smirk to yourself before looking over at him, "I'm just trying to figure you out."

"What do you mean?" he asks, concern visible in his bright eyes.

"I've never met anyone like you before. So much of what you say is a mystery," you remark.

"That is a fair point," he concedes, "I don't wish to vex you. There's just...so much that I don't know how to say."

You stand up straighter, smiling at him softly.

"I didn't mean it as a bad thing. Everyone has parts of themselves that they hide. Parts they don't want anyone else to see. There's nothing wrong with that," you reply, turning towards the ocean, "You don't like talking about your past, and I respect that. I just don't want you to think you have to hide. It's awful feeling like you don't belong, just for being yourself. I wouldn't want that for you."

"That is kind of you to say. Truly." He mirrors your posture on the railing, moving closer to you as a result. "You don't make me want to hide, Y/N. Quite the opposite, actually. I've learned so many things from you these past few weeks, and I have greatly enjoyed your company."

You look back to him, your heart skipping, "So have I."

His gaze softens. "I've also never met anyone like you before. You find joy and purpose in even the smallest of things. It inspires me how gracefully you view the world. And I've known no one whom I've wanted to share it with more."

Everything else around you melted away as you find yourself becoming just as lost in his eyes as you've been in his words.

Before either of you can move an inch closer, the chime of your cellphone cuts through the thick air between you.

Cursing inwardly, you shoot upright, embarrassed, and retrieve it from your pocket. It's an all-caps text from your sister with many exclamation marks, quickly followed by another. The sister you just now realized you forgot needed picked up.

"Oh no. I have to go," you say, frenzied, "My sister's waiting for me. I have to drive her home from her class, I completely forgot!"

"I understand," he nods, touching your arm assuringly, "Do you want me to accompany you back to the lot?"

"I really appreciate it, but I literally have to run. I'm so sorry, Orm," you say, turning to leave.

You make it only a few steps before you hear him call out.

"Y/N!"

Despite the urgency of your escape, you can't help but turn on your heel expectantly.

"Would you meet me tomorrow? Down on the beach, beneath the pier around sunset?"

A grin spreads across your face. "I'll be there!"

♆

It took everything in you not to grin like an idiot the entire drive to pick up your less-than-amused sister. You weren't ready for the brutal interrogation that would surely come if she saw the look you knew was on your face. After apologizing to her profusely and letting her chew you out, as was her sisterly right, her suspicions were already raised.

"You've never looked this happy for me to yell at you," she said, glaring at you.

"I'm just really enjoying my book! I started the sequel I told you about," you defended, flashing a smile even you knew was pretty fake.

"Enough to forget all about me," she rolled her eyes and punched your arm, "You're not telling me something, I know it."

"I'm dying to know if she's really the lost heir to the throne, I heard the reveal is like halfway through," you add, ignoring her last words.

"Mhm," she grumbled, "Fine don't tell me. I'll figure it out, just wait. You can't hide from me."

"The only thing I need to hide from you is my chocolate bars," you argue in a desperate attempt to throw her off the subject.

"I'll find those too," she snickered confidently.

You laughed it off and went back to biting down hard on your lip. It was the only thing you could do not to spill everything to her as she continued to give you the side-eye. Your body was at the steering wheel, but your mind, and your heart, were back on that boardwalk. The final glare she gave you in her driveway was unmissable, but for now, you'd evaded being found out as you made a getaway back to your own apartment.

That night you'd hardly slept, the moment at the end of the dock replaying in your mind over and over well into the morning. Work only made it worse, the monotony making the perfect backdrop to picture what the coming evening would bring. When your shift ended, you couldn't get out of there fast enough to go home and change.

Now, with sunset fast approaching, you were circling the parking lot trying to find a space, and close to bribing someone to move, when a spot finally opened up.

"Someone loves me," you exhale, hurriedly locking your car as you throw your bag over your shoulder.

The words linger in your thoughts. You can't help but blush at the notion, given your current destination, and who was waiting there.

In some ways it seemed like a lifetime since you met Orm, and in others it felt like only yesterday. The memory of that fateful day comes to the front of your thoughts as you start the long trek to the path that cuts through the dunes.

Unlike your fib from last night, you'd actually been desperate to finish the book your coworker had been pestering you about all summer. With only four chapters left, you'd escaped to the boardwalk one sunny Tuesday afternoon, hoping to find a bench, a fresh lemonade, and far less crowds than the weekend so that you could finally finish in peace.

Just as you'd sucked up the last drop of your drink and reached the last handful of pages, you noticed something out of the corner of your eye. On a bench across the way from you, you saw a man trying to untangle the most knotted pair of earbuds you'd ever seen in your life. You watched him from behind the top of your book, and suppressed a giggle as he became more animated in frustration. He ran a hand through his blond hair and seemed near to giving up on the whole endeavor. Unable to watch him struggle any longer, you tucked your book beneath your arm, tossed your empty cup in the trash, and started to walk over.

"He did this on purpose," he muttered as you approached.

"I can take a crack at them, if you'd like."

In his fierce concentration, he hadn't noticed you approach. He jumped a bit at your greeting, and squinted up at you, confused.

"Hi. Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Would you like some help with those?" you smiled hesitantly, "I just, I couldn't help but notice you were having a hard time with them."

"Well, you are welcome to try," he invited with a sigh, extending them to you, "Although I have seen seaweed less entangled than this."

You took them and sat down beside him, analyzing the knots.

"Earbuds are pretty notorious for getting tangled," you began, pausing to focus a moment, "These, however, look like a sailor used them to practice tying his knots."

"Courtesy of my brother," he said with no small amount of exasperation, "He delights in making things difficult for me."

"As brothers are wont to do."

"Indeed," he conceded.

Untying your own numerous pairs of earbuds over the years had more than prepared you for this moment. You'd made quick work of separating the right and left buds, down to the last few kinks in each.

"You're quite skilled at this," he observed.

"I should probably put it on my resume, huh?" you chuckled as you conquered the final knot.

"I think you might consider it," he laughed as well.

At last, all the tangles were gone.

"There you go," you declared, handing them back, "Good as new."

"Impressive," he remarked, marveling at your handiwork before looking back at you, "Thank you for your assistance."

"You're welcome," you smiled and pointed to the iPod in his lap, "What do you like to listen to, if you don't mind me asking?"

He hesitated, picking it up, "I'm...not actually sure how this device works. Are you familiar with the technology?"

"An iPod?" you laugh, "Yeah, I had one in high school. It's been a while and it wasn't this exact model, but they're all pretty much the same. MP3 players, that is. I had so many songs on mine, I couldn't add any more. Never went anywhere without it. I had to tape it together in senior year because I used it so much."

"Perhaps you could show me how to properly operate it?" he posed, turning towards you more, "My brother sent it to me. He said it contains music inside that I must hear, but I'm at a loss on knowing how to make it play."

You gazed at him bewildered a moment, caught off guard. Never had you met anyone who didn't know how to work an iPod before. But then again, you reminded yourself, not everyone had a chance to own one.

"Sure," you grinned, "I can show you. There's not too much to it, really, once you know the basics."

"Thank you," he replied sincerely, "It's not often that I've met a lady with such kindness, and lightness of fingers."

Heat immediately rushed to your cheeks at his gracious works, and suddenly it was difficult to hold the gaze of his rich blue eyes.

"It's no problem at all," you replied, offering your hand, "I'm Y/N, by the way. Nice to meet you."

"I'm Orm Marius, and the pleasure is mine."

Before you could blink, he'd taken your hand, and instead of shaking it, he kissed your knuckles. If he had lingered, perhaps it would have alarmed you. But he did it so quickly, it was like it was second-nature to him. Practiced or not, your head spun nonetheless, and launching into an urgent, flustered spiel about how to power on the iPod was all you could do to keep yourself held together.

You spent the next half an hour showing him everything from the buttons to the way to change the background image on the menus. Before long, you were talking about all of your favorite songs and artists, simultaneously making lists for each that he would have to listen to. Orm listened eagerly to your recommendations, and soon the conversation turned to any and every subject, from foods to places to dreams. You still remember the feeling of the rest of the world fading away as you talked to him, afternoon turning to evening. And the thrill you felt when he asked if he could see you again.

In the almost four months since, every meeting followed much in the same manner as that first day, with introducing Orm to the many things he'd never experienced before, and hours of conversation on the pier or walking along the beach. You'd stolen away to this area as many times as possible to see him, well over a dozen now. Of course your sister was more suspicious than ever after yesterday, but you still weren't ready to reveal where you'd been spending so many evenings, and who you'd spent them with. There was something exhilarating about you and Orm meeting secretly, and you wanted that feeling to last as long as possible.

He had such wonder about the world, like someone who'd not been in it very long. It was one of his oddest qualities, but his curiosity was endearing to you. Despite knowing so little about his past, you'd come to trust him like few others in your life. Whoever he'd been before, and wherever he was from, it seemed he had no intention on going back. If you were honest with yourself, you didn't want him to. There were so many places you wanted to take him further inland, yet he was still hesitant to go far from from the ocean. You'd never gone beyond a couple of blocks from the boardwalk together, but tonight, with the energy of yesterday's encounter fresh in your mind, you'd planned to breech the topic with him.

Now, the sun is sinking lower in the pale orange sky and your pulse quickens with the threat of being late. With all your reminiscing and daydreaming, you'd lost track of the time. You nearly run across the wooden walkway over the dunes and down the broad stairs. As soon as your feet hit the sand, you remove your sandals. Grasping them in one hand and the strap of your bookbag in the other, you take off into the best sprint you can manage. The pier is still a good distance up the beach, and you want to curse out whoever built the access so far away. You run at an angle towards the water, the wetter ground giving you better traction than the loose sand.

Just within the shadow of the great structure, you finally see Orm up ahead, his back turned. Out of breath, you slow your pace and try to catch some of it back before you reach him. Once he's within ear shot you call out to him.

"I'm sorry I left in such a hurry yesterday," you pant.

He spins on his heel. Relief is written all over his face.

"You came. I was afraid you might not," he sighs, walking up to meet you.

"Of course," you exhale, dropping your shoes and brushing away the hair clinging to your forehead, "Why wouldn't I?"

His expression indicates he had not thought of an answer to that question.

"I don't know," he hesitates, "I didn't mean anything by that. I mean, I wouldn't have blamed you if you hadn't. I did ask you at the last minute."

You can't help but chuckle as he stumbles regretfully all over his words.

"I brought you something," you declare to change the subject, much to his gratitude.

"A gift? For me?"

You can tell by his tone that he is actually baffled. Reaching into your satchel, you retrieve the item. In your outstretched palm, you hold a small snow globe, a miniature skyline of New York City contained inside.

His confused expression leads you to elaborate. "It's called a snow globe," you say, turning it upside down so that the little flakes inside swirl around, "You told me once that you never get to see snow where you're from. Now you can see it whenever you want."

He tentatively takes it, entranced by the miniature flurry.

"That's where I'm from. Well, I grew up there. We moved here when I was sixteen," you add, chuckling, "It's a little bit nicer in person."

Orm looks up at you, visibly touched by the gesture, "It's wonderful. Thank you."

"You're welcome," you smile, "I, hope that I can show you the real thing some day."

"I would like that," he replies with the smallest hint of sadness, pausing to behold it again, "I will treasure this always."

You'd never met anyone who talked like he did. Everything word he spoke was with full conviction. Others might sound pompous or conceited speaking the way he does, but when he said something, you believed he truly meant it.

"I'm glad you like it," you say, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"I do, very much," he says, frowning a bit, "I'm only sorry that I have nothing to give you in return."

"That's alright," you dismiss.

"Will you keep it safe for me while we are by the water? I regret that I have no pockets large enough to carry it."

"Absolutely," you say, putting it securely back inside your bag, "I know that feeling all too well."

When you finish with the zipper and lift your head up, you see Orm offering his arm to you. Surprised, and twice as excited, you take it.

As you cross beneath the pier and set off down the beach together, you suppress the urge to glance up at him. You agonize over what to say next, hoping he would speak first. When he did, it only made your heart beat faster.

"Actually, when I said I had nothing to give you, that was not entirely true," he said, clearing his throat before going on, "As much as I enjoy your educating me in foods and traditions I've never tried, I was hoping this evening we might enjoy a treat of a different kind."

Just up ahead, something on the shore comes into view. Your mind races in anticipation, and moments later, you come upon a blue blanket spread out neatly across the sand. A single white rose lies in the middle.

"Oh Orm," you breathe.

"It's not much, but I thought you would like to watch the sunset with at least some level of comfort," he says, a veil of nervousness in his voice.

"It's perfect," you exclaim.

He releases your arm and picks up the rose, presenting it to you.

"For you."

You feel nearly breathless once more as you take the flower and inhale its sweet fragrance.

"It's beautiful," you sigh, "Thank you."

He smiles timidly at your approval. "Shall we?"

"This is amazing," you say, removing your bag and carefully sitting down on the soft blanket.

He follows suit, and you gently place the rose in your lap as he comes to rest close beside you. The glow of the setting sun warms your skin, but it's nothing compared to the warmth in your chest.

You'd never seen him act like this before. He was normally so calm and collected, but now he was almost pure nerves. You work up the courage to glance over at him. He's staring hard ahead, clenching his jaw and rolling a seashell between his fingers. It's slowly becoming clear that you're not the only one who wanted to say something this evening. Normally, you found the rolling of the waves to be one of most soothing sounds in the world. But at this moment, they were far too loud.

You decide you have to break the excruciating silence.

"I've only watched a true beach sunset alone before."

Your voice brings him out from his trance. "I've also been by myself. I'm glad I have someone to share the splendor with."

"Me too."

He smiles weakly, and fixes his stare back on the horizon.

To your disappointment, the silence returns. Before long, everything is bathed in golden light. The sky transforms into rich oranges and reds before your eyes. The beach is surprisingly deserted apart from the seagulls and sand pipers, making it seem all the more that this moment was tailor-made just for the two of you.

Just when you're about to speak again, Orm at last turns towards you.

"I wish I could show you my world, Y/N. It is a realm of beauty, and strength, and light. You belong in such a place."

You feel your cheeks flush as he continues.

"Where I'm from, you can't see the stars at night. But there is a place with magnificent, glowing lights. A cave, filled with luminescence of every color you can imagine. You would absolutely love it."

"That sounds magical." You hang on his every word as you try to picture it.

"My mother used to take me there when I was a boy. I remember my whole hand disappearing inside hers." He smiled at the memory, but it faded as he spoke once more, "We used to go there seeking solace from my father."

Frowning, he throws the seashell towards the water. The sun begins to dissolve into the ocean, but neither of you take notice.

"Did you not get along?" you ask, hoping it was not too personal to do so.

His gaze falls downward again. "That's one way of putting it. Growing up in his shadow was- challenging. He was severe about many things, and against all of the rest. He expected me to become just like him. Demanded it, more like. Yet he was never up to the task of teaching me how. I wanted nothing more than to please him, but as I look back on it now, I'm not sure that I ever did. I was never worthy enough to be his son."

His words make your chest ache. You reach to gently touch his hand on the blanket.

"You are not an unworthy son," you assert, your feelings coming to the surface, "He was an unworthy father. I don't need to have met him to know that. Because I know you, and you are a good man. The most thoughtful, polite, decent man I've ever met."

He stares at you, emotion all over his face. A wistful look shines in his eyes.

"If only I had known you then," he reflects, "Perhaps I would not have gotten so lost in the tides of his storm."

"I wish I had known you too," you agree, more shyly than you'd expected, "But wouldn't have needed me. You already survived it, all on your own. You're stronger than he ever was."

His expression steels.

"Y/N, there is something I must tell you," he says, his tone turning grave, "It will not be easy for you to hear it, but I can't go on without you knowing what I am. I cannot hide it any longer. You deserve to know the truth."

Your heart starts to race quicker than your thoughts at his startling declaration. "What do you mean?"

Without warning, he casts off his jacket and stands up.

"Orm, what are you talking about?"

"Perhaps, it would be better if I showed you," he says, reaching out his hand to you, "I want you to understand. No more secrets."

For just a moment, you look up into his pleading eyes. Then, as if it had even been a choice, you carefully set the rose aside and take his hand. He helps you to your feet and leads you down past the water's edge. The cool water on your feet sends a shiver up your spine. The foam is lapping at your ankles when he stops just in front of you.

"You see that marker?" he points ahead.

The breeze whips your hair into your sight as you fight to push it away. You have to squint to see the outline of the buoy, the red light on top twinkling faintly in the twilight.

"Yes," you hesitate.

"Keep your eye on it," he directs calmly.

With that one instruction, he retreats further into the water, stopping until it is well above his waist. You cross your arms against the chill of sea spray and wait worriedly. He looks up and down the beach, as if to make sure no one is watching. You are still alone. Before you can call out to him, he dives headlong into the waves.

What follows you can only describe as a thunder beneath the water. It looks as if a missile has been launched from where Orm stood, careening toward the marker. Mere seconds later, a blast like a whale spout shoots above the horizon, and the buoy rocks violently as it is landed upon by the figure that flew up out of the sea.

A gasp escapes from your agape mouth as you witness the silhouette wave at you, and proceed to dive back into the blue.

Three pounding heartbeats later, Orm immerges from the surf and walks toward you, slicking back his dripping hair. His tee shirt clings to his muscular form, and his soaked jeans don't seem to encumber him at all. You're frozen in the sand, staring at him with only one word on your parted lips.

"How..."

"There's no simple way to say it, but you must know. I am from the Kingdom of Atlantis," he confesses, struggling to hold your stare, "I am Prince Orm Marius, son of Queen Atlanna. Although I was once ruler, I made many mistakes during my time on the throne for which I was banished. My penance is served by my exile here on the surface. I deserve my fate, and I gladly uphold it, but it is not something I wanted to keep from you any longer. I'm sorry that I was not honest with you sooner, but I didn't think that I could trust any surface-dweller with my secret. I was...proven wrong."

"You're a real Atlantean?" you manage to get out.

"I am," he nods, apprehension still in his voice, "I was raised to hate the surface and its inhabitants, but much has changed. You, Y/N, have had no small part in that."

Despite your reeling head, it's slowly becoming clear what Orm is saying by this grand unveiling of his true identity. As you struggle to process it, however, your silence compels him to go on.

"If all of this is too much, I understand. It is my burden to bear, and you did not ask to be part of it."

"I-It's not that," you stammer as the shock starts to wear off. You step closer to him. "Not at all. It's just a lot to take in. I need a minute, that's all. I promise."

Hope lights up his eyes.

"Absolutely," he agrees eagerly, "I apologize, I know this reveal was sudden. Please ask any questions that you have. I will withhold nothing from you."

As you finally begin look at him instead of through him, only one question lodged in your throat.

"Why?" you ask through threatening tears, "Why did you tell me all this?"

You knew why, because it was the same reason you wanted to tell him all of your own secrets. The same reason you came back to this beach over and over. The same reason your heart skipped every time you saw his handsome face, and heard him speak your name. You just wanted to hear him say it. For any of this to work, you needed to hear it.

His anxious gaze softens as he weighs his answer.

"I meant every word of what I told you yesterday. When I'm with you, I see a future that I never thought I would deserve. You make me feel like I can be more than I've ever been. And for the first time in my life, I have felt true happiness," he says, finding the words along with his conviction, "I never thought I would belong anywhere but Atlantis, but now, I want to know more about this world and its many gifts. And most of all, I want you to be by my side to show it to me."

"I want that too," you respond, tears threatening.

He gently takes your hand in his. "Even after all that I've done, part of me hoped that I might find some kind of redemption here on the surface. I wasn't sure how, and then I met you," he says tearfully, searching your eyes, "Y/N, you gave me that hope. Your goodness, your charity, your beauty. This realm has much to offer, more than I ever dreamed, but you are what I love most about the surface. From that very first day we spoke, I knew that you were what I was meant to find here."

Your vision blurs as he reaches to gently stroke your cheek.

"All of that to say...I've fallen in love with you, Y/N."

A sob escapes your throat as you look into his eyes and see it.

"I fell for you too. From the first day," you nod, finding your own confidence, "Being Atlantean doesn't change that. I don't care about who you've been or what you've done. I want to be with you. I love you too, Orm."

His composure crumbles along with yours as you embrace. The distance between you vanishes as your lips meet in a desperate kiss. You rest your hands on his chest and melt into his touch. He sighs and deepens the kiss, pulling you close against him. You feel the coolness of this still-dripping clothes soak through to your skin as you become lost in the taste of salt and longing. When you're forced to come up for air, you're both beaming.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he smiles, caressing your face.

"Me too," you giggle, lacing your arms around his neck, "What did you think of your first surface-dweller kiss?"

"Not too bad. I think I'll have to try it again before I decide if I really like it," he smirks.

"Well, if you get me out of this frigid water, I'll see what I can do about that," you tease back.

"Now that I can do," he announces.

You shriek in surprise as he swiftly lifts you from the water and into his arms as if you weighed nothing at all. He chuckles in amusement and carries you bridal style back toward the shore.

"Orm!" you protest, in an obviously half-hearted fashion.

"I have to admit, concealing my Atlantean strength has been considerably more difficult than I anticipated," he reveals, wincing a bit, "I intended to bring a bottle of wine tonight as well, but- the glass here is far weaker than what I'm accustomed to."

You laugh. "Well, it's the thought that counts."

"I'm glad you think so. Because I thought since I'm responsible for us missing the best part of the sunset, that perhaps we could lie under the stars instead?" he suggests, setting you down gently on your feet upon the blanket.

"I would love to," you say, looking up at him, "But aren't you freezing in those clothes?"

"I'm used to it," he shrugs, "I don't think I feel the cold the same as you."

"In that case," you say, pulling him closer into tender kiss, "What do you think about that?"

He grins.

"It was perfect, and I'm certain it will not be my last."

You no longer feel the chill as you cling to him, and he rests his forehead to yours. It didn't matter where the tides of life would take you next. As long as Orm was there to hold you in the waves, you would always be in your favorite place.

#orm marius x reader #orm x reader #ocean master x reader #orm imagine #aquaman and the lost kingdom #patrick wilson #aquaman imagine #orm fanfic #aquaman fanfic #my writing #strangers like me from tarzan is 100% orm-coded and i couldn't resist using it for the title #aquaman

[syrma-sensei]

→ A Dragon's Glory.

gif credit

pairing: daemon targaryen x lannister!reader.

rating: fluff, smut.

word count: 4.5k

warning: polygamy, established relationship, sub/dom dynamics, pregnancy sex, god complications, oral (female receiving), body worship, daemon being silly, extremely cocky, and absolutely smitten with you...

a/n: this is a sequel to my "a true victory". However, you need not to read the prequel, but it's preferable, though. the events of this fic take place in episode five, but the plot doesn't necessarily follow the canon agendas.

masterlist | ao3

IT'S PRINCESS RHAENYRA'S BETROTHAL DAY. You look at yourself in the mirror as your handmaid is sprucing your hair up with shinning rubies and golden accessories, and another is decorating your hands with jewelleries. Red and gold, the colours of your house; Lannister. The gown hugging your frame ever so delicately is crimson of colour, its velvet touch is so smooth on your skin. Two rounded, golden earrings adorning your ears; the right one is lion-shaped, and the other takes the form of the three-headed dragon of your husband's royal house; Targaryen. And both sigil are ruby-eyed.

You take pride in belonging to both houses; the lion you inherited, and the dragon you're married to. In occasions as such, you don't waste the opportunity of flaunting your post off; your glory.

When you're done, you study your appearance in the mirror. Satisfied by the results, you hum approvingly and praise your handmaidens' good work. Then, one of your ladies-in-waiting steps into your dressing chamber, dipping her head in courtesy. “The Prince is waiting for you, my lady.”

You find your prince husband waiting for you in your shared corridor, the one links your chambers to his. Daemon grins the instant his eyes fall upon you.

“Oh, my lioness...” He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles softly, “You look ravishing, love.”

“Why, thank you...” You kiss his both cheeks, giggling when he tries to plunder your freshly-painted lips into a kiss, “You look gorgeous yourself, my dragon.”

You do indulge him in a peck on his lips, but of course such teasing gesture doesn't rise to his contentment as he presses his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. His rough fingers caressing your stomach in circles. He draws out, kissing the tip of your nose, then stares at the bump in your belly.

It's been months since Daemon's back at court, and you can't be any happier. He's now a lot more behaved. Perhaps the fact he's going to be a father soon eased his usual wildness. Nevertheless, you cannot say the same thing about his appetite for you, especially after you stomach started to swell. It drives him mad knowing that you're carrying his child within your womb. He takes you almost every night if you're not tired.

“Gods,” He grumbles in a low voice, “You're growing prettier each day...”

“My toes do not agree with you, though, darling. They're disappearing,” You hum jocularly, “They look hideous.”

“Nonesense.” He asserts, cupping your cheek, “I like your toes, they're the second-best thing about you.”

Your eyelashes blink coquettishly. “Might I know what's the best thing?”

“The best thing...” Daemon looks aside for a moment, pondering, then he gazes back at you with a mischievous grin, “Two things, actually.”

A strong red colour flushes across your cheeks, “Daemon!” You chide him, throwing your eyes in a quick scan in fear of someone lurking around while your husband savouring your embarrassment.

Accepting his offered elbow, you shake your head a tad, murmuring, “You're incorrigible.”

“I'm afraid I am.” He chuckles, his steps are cautious and slow to not hurry you, “You like it, though. I know you do.”

The corner of your lips tugs upward in a half smile, your fingers tenderly brushing his arm. “I would not have it any other way, my love.”

“I'd find my way to you, darling, trust me.” He pinches your cheek playfully.

“Of course you would.” You chuckle.

Daemon tugs a strand of your mane behind your ear, asking, “Feeling better?”

You nod, “Do not worry, my love, I'm perfectly fine.”

You stroll your way towards the throne room, making sure to arrive at the feast before the announcement of any arrival of lord paramount. In better circumstances, you two should have been by Rhaenyra and the King's side from the very beginning of the banquet, but due to the sudden fatigue you suffered this morning resulted by your pregnancy, Daemon insisted on not being in hurry, telling you that his brother and niece would understand. And should you not be excited about his niece's wedding —and perhaps the most enthralled one of them all— so much, your husband would forbid you from attending today's celebration. You know he means well, and he only cares about your health and the babe's. But you assured him that mere nausea and tiredness wouldn't render you in bed. He wasn't quite convinced, but Daemon acquiesced to your determination, nonetheless. However, you had to make him a promise; that should you feel any kind of discomfort, you'd immediately retire to your chambers and have rest.

When you reach the throne room, Ser Harrold Westerling, Lord Commander of the Kingsuard, bows his head for you both before announcing, “Prince of the city, Prince Daemon Targaryen and his Lady wife, Lady (Y/N) Lannister!”

You watch King Viserys smile when he spots you both, and your heart is put at ease. Everyone in the hall stands up and bows for you and your husband. And once you are in front of the king, both of you curtseyed him. The latter nods at you in acknowledgement.

You turn your head to the Princess, smiling widely. “Congratulations, Princess, you live to your title indeed; bringing such delight to the realm.”

“Why, thank you, Lady (Y/N).” She smiles in return, “This celebration wouldn't come out perfect as such if it weren't for you.”

“Oh, please, I only did my duty, Your Grace.”

“My daughter and I owe you infinite thanks, Lady (Y/N).” King Viserys remarks, while drifting his eyes to his brother, “You're a fortunate man, Daemon. She's a rare gem, do keep her treasured, brother.”

“I shall do, brother,” Daemon holds your waist, pulling you a bit to his chest, “I shall certainly do.”

After curtsying the monarch again, you and Daemon take your place at the main table, with your husband sitting next to the empty chair, which you presume the Queen's, and you between him and Lord Lyonel Strong, Hand of the King.

With slight worry in your eyes, you scan the hall, corner by corner, while your smile is wavering on your lips. Everything is set to your exact dictation. The beautiful music, and delicious platters, and the mesmerising decorations of the throne hall. Even though everything is meeting with your expectations, something within your chest doesn't set right.

You feel the warmth of Daemon's hand on yours, as he leans to you, his face close to yours, “You need not to worry, darling.” He kisses your temple, “Everything is perfect and you just got praised by the bride and her father. Your grand efforts are profusely paying off.” He squeezes your hand gently, “You took it upon yourself to organise and supervise my niece's wedding festivities and worked on it so hard even though you're with child. I admire your strong will, darling.”

Your lips stretch in a genuine smile, “You flatter me, my lord.”

“No, I'm only stating the truth, my lady. I can't even imagine how patient and understanding you were throughout it all.”

Your smile slips away again when you glance at him, murmuring, “What if it's not to the Velaryons' taste. What if they don't like it?”

“If it were not, I'd question Lord Corlys's standards.”

You hide your giggle behind your fingers cordially, whispering “You can't, since queenly women are his taste.”

Daemon chuckles, “Can't say the same thing about his son, though, can I?”

You nudge your husband by your elbow, “Daemon!” You berate breathlessly, darting your eyes around to make sure nobody heard your husband's words, “Gods be good, you truly are incorrigible.”

Of course it reached your ears, the matter of Ser Laenor's taste. You did not believe such allegations at first, but having your husband confirming them to you broke your heart. That Laenor and Rhaenyra are bounded by an arranged marriage, in spite of their personal unhappiness for the sake of the realm.

You regard yourself lucky. Being married to your true love despite the impossibility of it. But you have to admit that Daemon is no like any other man. He's the type of a man if he wants something, he takes it, and nothing will ever stop him from doing so, not even the Seven themselves. There is a common belief that Targaryens are closer to gods than man, and being married into this dynasty, you allow yourself to indulge in being a god's wife... his goddess, the one he fought the world to claim her.

He never cared about tradition, especially foreign ones to him, and he clung to his family's customs by claiming two wives. If the first one was forced upon him, then he'd force the second upon all. And that was exactly what he did when he proposed to you, asking your brother, Jason, the head of house Lannister, your hand in marriage. Your brother did not show in sign of refusal at the time. Jason saw a great opportunity by accepting Daemon as your groom; he'd have Targaryen nephews, and dragons flying over the lion's banners if needed. Surely, what your brother did was frowned upon, and risked the King's wrath. But Daemon didn't care, nor did you. Mayhaps your successful marriage to the prince made Jason's ego go so high that he himself proposed to the Princess some time ago.

Speaking of the lions...

Ser Harrold Westerling announces again, “It with great pleasure, that His Grace, King Viserys, announces the start of the royal wedding celebrations.” Everyone is set alert as the Lord Commander continues, “House Lannister, with their Lord Jason Lannister; lord paramount of the West, and master of Casterly Rock...”

You smile when you see your twin brothers, Jason is several steps ahead to everyone, of course. They bow to the king respectfully, and then guided to their spot in the hall. You made sure to give your house a good seat at the banquet. Jason strides upward and dips his head to the monarch.

“Congratulations, Your Grace,” He says, “You have made a fine match for the Princess.”

“Thank you, Lord Jason.” You hear Rhaenyra remark, “I can think of no better man than Ser Laenor.”

You can detect the slight mockery in the future queen's tone. Daemon sneers under his breath and you frown at him. Of course you understand the reason behind the Princess' attitude. You know how your brother proposed to her, and how she wounded his pride. Although you don't endorse your brother's behaviour, but he's as a lion as you are, he's your blood, and you do not tolerate any kind of debasing he or anyone of your house might be regarded by.

Jason chuckles, “Well, if this is only the welcom feast, I admire I can only imagine what might be planned for the rest of the wedding...”

“Oh, my daughter is the future queen,” The King replies, “I want this a wedding for the histories. And we have your lady sister to thank.”

Jason nods and turns to you with a smile, “Dear sister!”

“Dear brother!” You nod in acknowledgement to him.

“My prince.” Jason salutes your husband too. He returns his attention to the King again, “Where is the Queen? I hoped to pay my respects.”

“I understand that the Queen is still readying herself for the celebrations.”

“This is why men wage war, because women will never be ready for the battle in time.”

You blink in your seat, cringe crawling at your skin because of your brother's dull jest.

Daemon snores a bit, dropping a comment, “Perhaps Lord Jason finds women late at other specific matters as well.”

Your eyes fly wide at the under-the-belt insinuation your husband just made, and the King's deep chuckle with Rhaenyra making no effort to hide her amusement make it worse.

You gaze at your brother apologetically. “Brother!” You cheered, “I shall be with you in a moment to catch up with you.”

Jason forces a smile, “Of course, sister.”

You throw a glare at your husband while he's still grinning. However, he drops it. “What?”

“It's not funny, you know.” You say, “Making fun of my brother right in front of me and everyone else.”

“Oh, darling please—”

You turn your head straight again, to receive the next guests. You hear Daemon sulk which makes your lips tug up in a small grin. House Hightower followed, then finally house Velaryons are announced. And such an entrance they are. You sigh in relief when you see their approving faces.

The King makes a small welcoming speech untill he's interrupted by his own wife, Queen Alicent Hightower. Eyebrows being raised, and hushed comments are made as the Queen, with her brilliant green gown, threads her way towards the main table. Everyone stands for her, except for your husband. She congrats her stepdaughter and kisses her husband's cheek as the latter carries on with his welcome, and he doesn't forget to give you the credits for your efforts.

When the King is finished, and after the Princess and her betrothed danced their private dance, you excuse yourself and go to entertain the guests. Daemon grabs your hand and you squeeze his. “Everything is going to be alright, love.” You slide a hand beneath your engorged belly as you waddle to the spot where you placed your house; close to the royal table at the front right.

Jason is the first to greet you. “Dear sister,” He leans in to kiss your cheek, “I've missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.” You return his kiss then nod at your other sibling.

“Sister.” Tyland says, roaming the hall with studying eyes, then he smiles at you, “I see you're quite deft at planning celebrations, (Y/N). We're proud of you.”

Jason grasps at your shoulders in enthusiasm. “Well, of course, brother. She's the most suitable for such post. She and Daemon make the perfect royal couple.” He says the last sentence with a bit bitterness.

Tyland clicks his tongue, “Wish the Prince has known you first though. His late wife did not deserve such failed deal.”

With furrowed eyebrows, you ask your brother, “Late wife?”

Jason looks at his twin perplexed, then back at you. “Yes, sister, Lady Royce passed weeks ago. Are you not aware?”

You fix a smile. “O-Of course, I am. I just do not keep her in mind so much.”

“And you shall never have to from now on, as she's out of your way, sweet sister.”

Your face deadpans. “She wasn't in my way to begin with, brother, and surely of all people, you know that the most.”

“Certainly, but—”

“If you'll excuse me, dear brother, I must attend to the other guests.”

You leave the guests of your house slightly puzzled. You spot your husband dancing with Lady Laena Velaryon as you make your way to the other side of the hall. Where house Hightower are seated. Lady Lynesse Hightower, wife of Lord Hobert Hightower, dips in courtsy for you.

She was one of the many appalled ones when you and Daemon got married. Thinking of your knot illegal by gods and man's laws as you were his second wife. You've received lots of responses of the sort. It never bothered you really. In fact, you relished in them; watching all of them bowing for you despite their inner disgust, you really didn't care. You're a lioness of The Rock, and your husband is a dragon prince, the strongest knight of the seven kingdoms, and the fiercest warrior of the realm. You have nothing to fear.

However, something about Lady Lynesse's smirk unsettles you greatly.

“Ser Gerold Royce is invited to the royal wedding, I see.”

“Ser Gerold is a fine knight, and a good man, can't see why not?”

Lynesse shakes her head with a sneer. “Must salt be rubbed in his wound, Lady (Y/N)?”

That makes you brows knit in a scowl. “I do not quite catch your meaning, Lady Lynesse.”

“You do know that your prince husband's first, lawful wife who was Ser Gerold's cousin, has passed, do you not?”

“Yes, I do.” You answer, with every ounce of indifference you can muster.

Lady Lynesse clicks her tongue amusedly. “It's said Lady Rhea fell off her horse and was crushed by it. But you see, Lady Rhea was an excellent rider, and many are not convinced that such accident would kill her.”

“Your point?” You say impatiently.

“I'm only saying that there are some people who believe that Lady Rhea Royce's death was no coincidence, and was by design.”

It casts upon you, and you raise an eyebrow at her. “Well, that's unfortunate to hear.” The calm in your voice surprises you, “Even though I did not meet her in person, but Lady Rhea was an honourable lady of the Vale, such brave woman is quite irreplaceable.”

“Oh, I beg to differ, my lady.” The mischief in her voice unnerves you, “You are taking her place now, as your prince husband is to inherit her castle in Runestone since they didn't produce heirs together.”

Your eyes fixate on her face, she makes no effort to hide her brazen expression. You fall silent for a moment, shaking your head a tad.

“I did hold respect to my husband's wife indeed, Lady Lynesse.” Your green eyes glower at her fiercely and the shiver of her frame doesn't go unnoticed by you. “But it seems as though the people of the south do not have the ability to distinct gold from bronze, as I clearly see.”

The face she makes is priceless; you allow yourself to grin. “Now, if you'll excuse me, Lady Hightower.”

You spin rather adroitly as your eyes roam the room, looking for your husband. You find him still dancing with Lady Laena. However, your eyes lock for a moment and he smiles at you, but you do not return it. Instead, you tear your face aside with a slight scowl on your face.

You wobble towards the King, a hand on your belly. You dip your head in courtesy and asks for his leave to retire to your chambers and rest. They express worry about you, but you brush it off, telling them it's but normal tiredness.

Spinning around, you face the solid chest of your husband.

“Is something the matter, love?”

“No, nothing is the matter, husband.” You hiss through gritted teeth.

“Your Lady wife is a tad tired, Daemon.” The King's interjects, “Do escort her to have some rest.”

Daemon glances at his brother then at you. “Of course, brother.”

Your short trip to your chambers is silent. However, the instant you're in your bedchamber, alone, your husband demands, “What happened, love?”

You sit on your bed, sighing. “Nothing requires your concern, my lord. Seemed the babe didn't like rowdy places, that's all.”

Daemon clicks his tongue. “If I didn't know better, I'd say our child is giving you a hard time.” He stands right before you, tipping your chin up with his fingertips. “Tell me what that bitch said to cause you such distress?”

You press your lips into thin line. “Was it your intention to keep me in the dark regarding your first wife's demise, Daemon?”

“Yes, but it reached your ears, nonetheless.” He clicks his tongue again, unamused.

“Why would you do such thing?”

“Her death was a tragic one, and knowing your sensitivity that is increased by the pregnancy, I had no choice but to conceal the fact away from you. I did not wish it to affect on you or our child.”

“They're whispering that you did it.” You mutter.

He gives you a vague grin. “And you believe them?”

“No, but...”

“But what?”

His eyes don't leave yours, probing and studying. You drop your head down and fall silent. Daemon kneels before you briskly, taking your agitating hands in his. His violet eyes are gazing up at you, more softly this time.

“But what, darling?” He rumbles.

You sigh. “We've been married for six years now, Daemon. And the court has yet to accept me as your lawful wife.”

“But the lioness doesn't consider the sheep's opinions, darling, neither does the dragon.” He says tenderly, wringing your hands fondly.

“I know, but imagine how it would influence on our child when it's born.” You tear up, “They're already calling it names...”

That kindles a fire in his eyes. “Anyone dares to insult our child, I shall rip their tongues out with my own hands.”

“Daemon, please I can't take this any longer,” You sob, “I work each day to prove to everyone that I'm fitted to be a royal consort but...”

He shushes you gently, and brings your hands to his mouth. Daemon kisses your knuckles ever so softly then glances up at you. Rough fingers are barely touching your face, brushing your tears away.

“You're more than fitted, my lady,” He says in whisper, “You're my fierce lioness, love of my life, my one and only wife, and I wouldn't have it any other way.”

Through your blurred vision, you let a smile slip. “I'd find my way to you.”

He gives you a smile of his own, “I know you would.” He laughes before taking your lips in a kiss. A sudden urge, a sudden need sweep over your body, and you find yourself cling to your husband's shoulders.

A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest as he rises on his feet. You look at him in awe and gulp. “Aren't we supposed to return to the feast, husband?”

“Fuck the feast. They're fine on their own,” Daemon replies, voice is thick and deep as he takes off his black, leather jerkin.

You open your mouth to retort, but whatever you have to say is swallowed by his kiss. “I've craved to fuck you the moment I saw you in this gown.”

You lay on your back as his hands guid your shoulders back into the sheets. He scramble your red skirts up, and your body quiver when Daemon caresses your very swollen belly with utmost tenderness. He trails smooth kisses on the stretched skin, then you both feel it, the babe's kick.

Daemon lets an amused chuckle, “Look who's thrilled too.”

Your body vibrates as you giggle, “Gods, I can already tell it's as incorrigible as you are.” You laugh again.

“The gods have tossed their coin.”

Daemon slips your undergarments, and your wet cunt is bare to his burning eyes. He settles your knees on his shoulders as he leans down.

Already overwhelmed, a loud moan tears out of your throat as the tip of his tongue brushes the hood of your clit. He kisses the bud, and his lips are softer than silk.

“Daemon... Daemon... Daemon...”

Your hand comb through his white locks, toes curling, while his tongue is making the most obscene, wet noises with your cunt.

Your breathing grows short, as you beg him for a release. His tongue slips inside of you and your walls collapse.

He leaves you shuddering and stirring in the sheets, giving you some time to recover as he wriggles out of his red tunic, and black trousers, sliding his boots off.

When you sober up from your high, you witness his lithe physique. Muscled and toned from years of training and battles, all in the right places. Your eyes wander his figure down until they perch on his hardened cock.

He glimpses at it then at you, smirking widely at your amazed eyes. “It's all yours, my lady.”

He helps you with your dress, until you're naked before him. Daemon tells you to let the jewelleries on. He loves it when you're naked but adorned to devour you with his unquenchable eyes.

Your husband kisses the crown of your head before he arranges the pillows for you. Once done, he ushers you to be on all four, the pillows holding the weight of your belly. He mounts you from behind and slips through your warm folds. He grunts, and his eyes are closed in full ecstasy.

At first, his rhythm is slow and leisure, but he loses control in no time when plunged deeply in your welcoming cunt. His hands don't leave you neglected as he caress and fondle your skin ever so delicately. Within few minutes you feel another release building at the tip of your stomach.

“Gods, Daemon!” Your soft, whiney mewls are music to his ears, “Oh, gods!”

You feel his large hands cradling your head, your golden mane messy between his fingers, until he decides to snap your head aside. Through ecstasy, and erratic breathing, you see your husband moving your hair from your face as he dips lower until his sweet breath slams your hot face.

“I'm your god,” He grumbles deeply.

You nod vehemently and he holds you to his chest, an arm breath your stomach and the other hand grabbing your head.

“Say it...” He whispers hoarsely in your ear, a command, an order, ramming his hips to yours.

“You're my one and only god, Daemon!” You moan loudly, “Oh, my god, my Daemon, please!”

Your god makes love to you, worship you, until beautiful tears of joy streaming down your cheeks. He takes you several times before your stamina wears out. And when your finished you don't bother to clean up. You two just savour in the the delightful aura surrounding you both.

Your head is resting on his chest, while your legs are tangled, as his hand is twirling and playing with your golden locks, whereas your fingers are tracing random patterns on his breast.

“Lys.” You hear him say.

You tip your head up, and your emeralds meet his amethysts. “What?”

“How about we go to Lys?” He gazes down at you, “I doubt this court or any other part of the Seven Kingdoms would be a suitable place to raise a child. In Lys we can live—”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You respond immediately. “I can't ask for a better place, my love. It's the most beautiful out of the free cities, and the blood of Old Valyria still runs through its people.”

During your adventures with your husband on his Caraxes, Lys, the Perfumed Sister, was the city which captured your heart. And currently, you do not mind living in Flea Bottom if it meant being away from all the courtiers and everyone else. Furthermore, you can embark on trade business there, and live with your husband and future children a generous life away from the toxic fuss of the palace.

“It's settled then.” Daemon declares, kissing your lips, “Once you deliver our child, we shall be off to Lys.”

“Yes!” You kiss him again.

You set your head against his chest again, his heart drumming loudly against your ear. He's as excited as you are, and perhaps more. You both are enthralled for your next glory.

#daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #prince daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen headcanon #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen fic #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen fanfic #syrma writes

[azurevi]

wild roses

pairing: leona x gn!reader, heavy jack & reader (reader = prefect)

summary: ace and deuce’s matchmaking plan for valentine’s day goes wrong, and both you and leona realize that something needs to be changed in your relationship. (fluff, secret relationship, bad matchmaking, possibly ooc leona 😔) 9k (chonky)

note: HAPPY VALENTINE’s DAY!!! ok. first of all, jack is there for like, a majority of the fic because i felt bad just using him as a plot device and decided to write more about his interaction with reader. but it’s still somehow centered around leona and reader. secondly, this is like really messy but i didn’t have time to flesh out everything i already had to cut down on what i originally planned 💀 hope y’all enjoy it anyways ^^

“I don’t know if this is a good idea, Ace.” Deuce rubbed his chin, looking between the redhead and the wrinkled paper titled ‘ The Foolproof Matchmaking Plan: 2023 ’. He wasn’t sure if he should be more concerned about the content or the implication that this could become an annual thing.

“No, no, you don’t understand,” Ace was pacing and gesticulating. “This will work for sure, because we already know for a fact that there’s something going on between the prefect and Jack. All they need is a little push!”

“Do we though? I mean, we could’ve misinterpreted everything. Not to mention how much trouble we’ll be in if the plan falls through.”

“Sure, both of them are going to whoop our asses if it fails, but if it works, we will appear in their wedding speeches. It’s a risk I’m willing to take. If you really need concrete evidence, turn to the back of the paper.”

Deuce did as told, and found another list scribbled on the page.

Undeniable signs that they are into each other (in case Deuce acts like an idiot and doubts my plan) 

The prefect is always spending time at the Savanaclaw dorm. There must be a reason they choose it over Heartslabyul, where TWO of their best friends reside.

Last time we went over, we literally found a Savanaclaw uniform mixed in the prefect’s laundry. They're already dating in all but name!

Asked the prefect last time what their type was: tall, strong, has a secret soft side. Who else fits all the criteria if not Jack?

They're always talking among themselves when we’re hanging out as a group. 

They always have this stupid lovesick look on their faces whenever they get a notification. I bet my lunch money they're texting each other.

T

“T?” 

“Trein confiscated it before I could finish writing that line.” He scratched his head. “The point is, the signs are right in front of us! Or are you so blind that you can’t see it?”

“I'm not blind-”

Ace sighed. “I know that you don’t have a lot of experiences when it comes to romance, but still-”

“Wrong! I had a whole group of admirers back when I was… ugh. Nevermind, it's not something I'm proud of. I am capable of picking up signs of romantic interest, and my expertise tells me… that you are right. They are interested in each other!”

How gullible. Ace had to stifle his urge to laugh. “I am honored that you deem my opinion valid, oh great romance expert. So are you on board or not?”

Success was pretty much in the bag, but he asked nonetheless, watching as Deuce struggled with his conscience. Finally, with a stern look, he nodded. “I’m in, for the happiness of my friends. When do we carry this out?”

Ace straightened his spine, snatching the paper out of his hands and straightening it. With a sly smirk, he said, “Tomorrow, Valentine’s Day.”

———

The school had this ‘candy delivery’ thing going on for Valentine’s Day, and you happened to have garnered enough secret admirers that the organizers had to pack your sweets into a basket. As soon as you'd gotten it from your locker, you hugged it close to yourself and rushed into the room owned by the Gargoyle Research Society. Malleus was the only one who used it anyway, and he’d long ago given you the permission to enter as you pleased.

Anticipation coursed through your veins as you rummaged through the pile, looking for one specific note. You weren’t sure whether Leona had participated in something like this— chances were he would've considered it ‘an asinine way to help cowards confess their feelings’— but it didn’t stop you from hoping.

After putting aside a few chocolates and their atrocious pick up lines, you finally found the one you’d been looking for. It was a single candy wrapped in a yellow wrapper, and it looked like the kind of stuff teachers gave out to kindergarteners who answered questions in class. 

A note was stapled around it. You unrolled it to find a familiar handwriting. 

Happy Valentine’s Day. Although this event appears to be an asinine way to help pathetic cowards confess their feelings, I reckon that I should still give you something since you mentioned looking forward to it. I will meet you at Ramshackle tonight, 8pm sharp. — Leona 

With a smile curling your lips, you ripped the wrapper and popped the candy into your mouth. The fruity sweetness coated your tongue as you pulled your phone out.

The line rang for a few seconds before it got through. “Hello?” He husked.

“Good morning, is this Mr. Kingscholar?”

“Cut it out.” It sounded like he was shuffling in bed. “I take it that you’ve received the candy thing?”

“Yup. And the invitation. Have you just woken up?”

“Thanks to you, yes.” 

Rapid knocks appeared in the background, and he cussed under his breath.

“Is that Ruggie?” You chuckled.

“Yea. He’s about to break the door. I’ll see you tonight, ‘kay? Don’t forget about it.”

“As if I would. I’ll make sure the coast is clear when you arrive.”

“Yea,” he said with a hint of hesitation, as if he was taken aback by your words. “Okay. Bye.”

Having to sneak around and meet up was nothing new to you. From the very beginning, you’d agreed to keep your relationship under wraps. 

While his brother was usually preoccupied with more crucial matters, Leona was still a royalty, and words spread like wildfire in this school. People were bound to talk if he were to be seen with a romantic partner, and they were probably going to tell their mothers, who would tell the other mothers, on and on until the media caught wind. Then the chamberlains would get involved, eventually alerting his brother.

Knowing Farena, he'd probably make a fuss of you, demanding a dinner and a private audience. On top of that, all kinds of reporters would be knocking on the door, trying to get a candid photo of you two. If that happened, his chances of getting a good sleep would drop to zero. Or worse, they would bring unnecessary burdens to you.

As for you, your reasons were simple: your friends would never leave you alone if they knew of your love life. Ever since they'd noticed the different air around you, they'd been not-so-subtly trying to figure out whether you were seeing someone. They were definitely going to tease the living hell out of you once they figured it out, so you’d rather dodge all the troubles.

Plus, it was pretty nice to have this quiet little thing going on between you, just that it's hard to pretend like you didn’t want to throw yourself at him in the corridor sometimes.

Really, it’s nice.

Despite your intention to maintain discretion, so far two people had already blown your cover. The first was Ruggie, no surprises there. The second was Jack, who walked in on your napping session at the botanical garden. (That one’s on you, you’d totally forgotten to be discreet.) 

Both of them were trustworthy friends, so it didn’t bother you. But if someone like Ace or Deuce was to find out…

A chill crawled down your spine.

As if on cue, you heard their voices outside and hurriedly stuffed the note into your pocket.

“Where did they go?” Deuce asked.

“I don’t know, man. Maybe they went back already?”

“Let’s just call them.”

You scrambled to mute your phone, but Deuce was faster. The ringtone penetrated the silence in the hallway, and not a second later, the door was opened.

“Hey, guys.” You smiled innocently.

“What are you doing here?” Ace poked his head in, a knowing look dawning on his face. “Ahhhh, I see. Are you perhaps looking for candies from a special someone?”

“Nope.” You stood up and hung the basket around your elbow. “I was just checking to see if one of you guys would give me something. The result is heartbreaking, by the way.”

They shared a suspicious look. 

“Allow us to piece your heart back together then. We have a mission from Sam.” Deuce fished out a piece of folded paper from his jacket. “Gotta pick up something from town.”

“Great. Let’s go.” You wiped the invisible dust from your pants. It was always a treat to be able to leave the campus, and the trip might give you an opportunity to buy some flowers for tonight's date.

“Nuh-uh, not so fast.” Ace threw his arm around your shoulder. “We are going to make a stop at Savanaclaw.”

———

Ruggie was the first to greet you as you stepped out of the mirror, a large sack swung over his shoulder. He looked like Santa Claus. “Morning! Are you looking for Leona?”

“Nah, we’re here for Jack.” Ace said.

“Then he should be in his room.” Ruggie pointed vaguely behind himself, and your friends headed over, leaving you two alone.

“You’re quite the popular hyena, aren’t you?” You jutted your jaw at the bag.

“This? Nah. I just collected them from people who don’t like sweets.” He eyed your basket. “Any chance you’re one of them?”

“I mean, I’ve already got the one I want, so…” you handed him the whole thing, and his grin grew wider. Grim would've whined about it if he'd been here, but he was too busy getting his fill at Kalim’s.

“Touche. Between you and me, Leona actually spent days ruminating on what to do for Valentine’s Day. You didn’t hear it from me though.”

Thank the heavens no one was around to catch your lovestruck expression.

Speaking of the devils, Ace and Deuce promptly returned with Jack. Trailing behind by a few steps was a grumpy Leona. His eyes spotted you first, softened around the edges, before returning to drill holes in the back of Ace’s head.

Jack greeted you as soon as you were all standing together. “We’re running errands for Sam right? Let’s get to it.”

“Yes-”

“Not so fast.” Leona spoke over Deuce. “I’m coming. Jack can stay.”

“Woah, Sam’s permit only says our names, so technically you can't be off schoolground.” Ace waves the paper in the air, passing him a pointed look.

“I don’t care. There's no way I'll let you trouble magnets go out on your own.” 

“Relax, we’re not that unruly. Plus Jack's here, he’s our voice of reason.” 

Jack nodded firmly. “That’s right, I’ll make sure they don’t fall out of line.”

The irritation on Leona’s face was indisputable. Something was definitely going on in his head. 

“Be real here, why would you even want to come with us? You don’t care if we got into trouble.” Ace scrunched his face into a frown.

Leona stared down at your red-haired friend before his gaze moved to you, unreadable yet solemn. Perhaps he was anxious that you couldn’t make it back in time for the date.

“Don’t worry, we will be back before it gets dark.” Your addition seemed to be making things worse for him. He clicked his tongue and swiveled around, tearing himself away from this mess. 

After some contemplation, he bit out, “Fine, go have your fun.” 

With that finally settled, Ace and Deuce ecstatically looped their arms around Jack’s and your elbows, as if preventing you from running away, and hopped into the mirror. The last thing you saw was Leona mumbling something to Ruggie and the drop of the hyena’s jaw.

———

The townspeople took Valentine’s Day a lot more seriously than you’d expected. Bakeries had all kinds of pastries displayed readily to the lengthening queue, and customers swarmed into flower shops in hope of grabbing the last bouquets available. Even booksellers decided to join in on the fun, slapping discounts on all romance novels and comics alike. Just around the corner, a few buskers were playing some sappy love songs on their guitars in front of a thin audience.

“It’s like a whole festival here.” You commented as you weaved through the crowd with Jack. He was tall enough that you didn’t have to worry about losing him in the waves. Meanwhile, Ace and Deuce were keeping up from behind, engrossed in their own conversation. 

“I agree. I didn’t expect Valentine’s Day to be such a big deal.” He said.

“You’re not the kind of people who think it unnecessary, are you?”

“Not really. You can express your love any other day, so it’s kind of pointless from that point of view, but I guess it’s a good opportunity for people to confess their feelings.”

“I also like to think of it as a reminder for people to show their love more bravely.” You caught sight of a heart-shaped chocolate the size of a cauldron through a shop window. “...Though it can also become an unfortunate tool for capitalism.”

“I assume that you will be celebrating?”

You sensed what he was hinting at. “Yup, after some convincing. By the way, is it just me or are Ace and Deuce acting a bit weird today?”

“I thought I was the only one.” He looked back briefly, though he couldn't spot anyone with their distinctive hair colors. They were probably just distracted somewhere. “They barged into my room and told me to dress up. Who dresses up to run errands?”

Evidently he went along, seeing as how he was wearing a white dress shirt instead of his usual comfy t-shirts. 

“You don’t think they’re pranking us, are they?” 

“I wouldn’t put it past them.”

Just then, your phone vibrated in your pocket. You tugged at Jack's sleeve to pull him to the side of the road. It was a rare text from Leona.

Leona: where are you?

You: just got into town

You: good thing you didn't come along, you would've gagged at the amount of lovey-dovey stuff here

Leona: so you don't know

You: ?

He spent a few seconds typing and re-typing. In your wait, you looked up and found your two friends still missing.

Leona: they're trying to set you up with jack.

What.

What the heck.

Your thoughts sped up. The picture started coming together in your head. No, it made sense. Them insisting that Jack came instead of Leona, literally telling him to dress up? 'Allow us to piece your heart back together'? All of their actions verified Leona's words. 

You: damn, ur right

You: wait, how did you figure it out?

Leona: they told me in my face when they ran into me just now. said that they were going to be matchmakers and put an end to your 'endless pining'

You: -_-

So that's why he was acting all frustrated back there. You stole a glance at Jack, who was trying to call your friends, albeit to no avail. He was definitely not going to like what he was about to hear.

You: at least we now know of their absurd plan. i'll tell jack

Leona: k

You: are you upset?

Leona: no. even if i were, i would only be upset with your nosy friends

Leona: just make sure to come back on time. you were the one who wanted to celebrate vday after all

You: roger that :)

"Was that one of them?" Jack asked as you pocketed your phone.

"Nope. You can stop calling, by the way. They're not going to answer."

He frowned as you pulled the shopping list out of his hand. "Why?"

"Because they left us alone on purpose. They're trying to play cupid." You waved the unfolded paper in front of his face. He read the content carefully before sputtering. In his head, he tried to put two and two together. The moment it all clicked, his shoulders tensed. "No way."

It was an actual shopping list from Sam, stamped by him and all, but the items were absolutely ludicrous, not to mention obvious. Roses, jewelry, plushies… and the definite proof that he was in on it, or was at least held at gunpoint as he drafted the list: the line ‘Treat yourself, little imps! Everything’s on me’ at the bottom of the page. Despite its absurdity, it was also a binding term. If you failed to get everything as instructed, he had the right to report you for leaving the campus and skipping some classes without a justified cause.

Not that he would, right?

As much as you hated to admit, there didn't seem to be a way you could get out of this mess.

"What do we do?" He shook his head. "I don't even know how they got the idea of bringing us together. And you were supposed to spend the day with Leona, not me. This is so messed up-"

"Hey, it's okay. Leona already knows. He was the one who told me."

He blinked at you blankly. "Is he going to come after me?"

You let out a laugh. "Not on my watch. Look, how about we just go along with it and get everything on the list? Then we will head back on time and I can have my date with Leona. After that we can dangle Ace and Deuce upside down outside Ramshackle."

Jack turned to the crowd, donning his deep-in-thought look. You could almost see the cogwheels moving in his brain, trying to find a way to avoid this. There was none. He shook his head at last, "Alright, let's get the stuff as soon as possible."

———

After deciding that you would buy the roses first, the two of you ventured through the streets to find a less packed flower shop. As you strayed farther from the center of the town, the number of pedestrians dwindled, and soon you could walk side by side without being bumped into and feeling your shoulder dislocate.

The silence between you was not awkward, but it was stretched, begging to be filled. Jack had always had the habit of using his words sparingly, believing that actions spoke louder, but this was different. You could tell that he was on edge, eyes darting around as if trying to catch every passing shadow, hands stuffed in his pockets, tail swishing stiffly. 

He was uncomfortable. And he was acting like he wasn't, because that's what he'd been saying for the past thirty minutes. Eventually you gave up, opting to protect that tense little bubble surrounding you.

As much as you'd like to argue that this wasn't how you usually interacted, you realized that you couldn't. Truth was, you seldom hung out outside of a group setting, and even when you were alone, it was usually for matters like how he could help cover you up as you left the group to find your favorite lion, and homework. 

To be frank, you didn't know that much about Jack.

A humble little shop was chosen at last, but even it had quite the amount of customers loitering around, most of them attempting to conceal their last-minute anxiousness. You assumed that they must've forgotten to buy something beforehand. 

"How may I help you, lovebirds?" A tall woman with baby-blue glasses greeted you enthusiastically. Jack tensed up like someone had just stepped on his tail.

"Would you happen to have red roses?" You asked instead.

"Oh, of course. How many would you like? A lot of couples go for a hundred, but the really earnest ones go for as much as two. You two look quite sweet together, perhaps you would–"

"We're not," Jack rushed to say. "We're not a couple."

"Oh," the shopkeeper squinted at you. "Ohhh… it's like that, huh? In that case, you should take a look at this guide," she pulled out a laminated sheet and slid it across the wooden counter.

It was a comprehensive guide to the number of roses and all of their meanings, from one to twenty, then skipping to hundreds and thousands. 

"Who would buy three thousand roses?" You whispered to Jack.

"I don't know," he said. "How many should we get?"

Most of the numbers carried love declarations, but there was one that fit. "How about thirteen?" 'Friends forever'.

"Looks good."

"Alright, we'll get thirteen," you gave the sheet back to the lady. She checked your choice briefly, looked up, lifted her glasses with her index finger, then nodded meaningfully. 

"Alright, thirteen red roses coming right up. You can fill this up while you're waiting." She handed you another white card and a black marker to be put together with the bouquet. The vaguely printed words instructed you to write some 'sweet words for your beloved'.

When you turned to Jack for help, he looked like he was going to run out of the shop at any given moment.

"Hey, is everything alright?" You questioned. "And don't lie to me, I can tell."

He ruffled his snowy hair, averting his eyes. "I apologize. It's just… I'm not very comfortable with all this coupley stuff."

You nodded slowly, contemplating his words. 

"It's not you, don't worry, it's just…" he shut his eyes, trying to escape the embarrassment. "You're Leona's partner, and I'm just a friend. It feels wrong to do all this with you."

Oh. Oh. 

Shit. You almost felt bad for not figuring that out by yourself. Jack, even after everything, still looked up to Leona as an accomplished role model. Not to mention he was his dorm leader and a literal force to be reckoned with. He probably thought that he was crossing some lines. 

Maybe he was. Perhaps there were unspoken rules among beastmen. And lions were known to be protective of their own pride…

When you thought about it this way, it wasn’t hard to see why he felt like a fish out of water at all. 

You tapped the marker against the counter. You never imagined that dating Leona would inadvertently cause Jack to be extra careful around you, but now that you knew, you were determined to thaw the ice. “How about we treat this as a normal, friendly hangout?” 

He arched his brow, clearly finding the idea of pretending you weren't surrounded by romance-centric decorations all around you unrealistic.

"Valentine's Day is just an excuse to promote love anyways, and love is not limited to romance, you know?" You took off the cap on the marker and started scribbling. "I can write some sweet words for you as a friend too. For one, I admire your unerring determination and your strong morals. There you go."

There was still uncertainty shimmering in his eyes as he took in your written words, but eventually he nodded. "Fine, I'll give it a try. I admire your bravery and courage."

"Aw, thank you, my dear friend." You elbowed him playfully, and he stifled a grin. 

"Here's your order, darlings!" The shopkeeper came back with the roses hugged by a pink wrapping paper. It looked like she was trying very hard not to peek at what you'd written down on the card.  You paid for the flowers and passed your thanks before heading out to the next mission.

“The best pastries in town… should we go to the pâtisserie Vil mentioned before?” Jack suggested. You agreed in a blink; it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to crown it the best among its competitors in the world.

Though on second thought, it didn't seem like a feasible idea after all. A dense group of exasperated customers had blocked the front of the shop, so much so that you could only see the boss' hands waving in the air like a drowning man's. Everyone's voices overlapped, but you could make out some common protests: not enough, waited for a long time, unfair, et cetera. 

"-ys. GUYS!" The boss' squeaky voice somehow managed to calm the ocean of complaints. The whole street dropped to silence at his command. "We are really sorry, but this is the only one we have left!"

"Then you should've baked more!' A gruff voice yelled.

"Maybe you should've ordered earlier!" The boss countered. "Anyways, I know y'all aren't going to leave me alone anyways, so to be fair," he made an air quote. "I'll let y'all fight for it. Whoever is the best at arm wrestling gets the last piece."

You turned to Jack. He bobbed his head knowingly.

Immediately, people got into groups and looked for any kind of flat surfaces– the outdoor seats of a nearby restaurant, the top of the pâtisserie's empty display case. Two men were laying on their stomachs on the gritty pavement. The crowd dispersed like ants under a rock, desperate to get that final piece of cake.

Jack grimaced. "I fear Valentine's Day is driving people insane."

"Hopefully not us." Bowing forward, you tried to take a look at the pâtisserie's sole survivor. An opening between two struggling contestants revealed that it was a piece of fruit cake.

"Pear compote." Jack blurted out.

"What?"

"That's pear compote dripped on top."

There was a distant… longing in his eyes. "Is that what you like?"

"It's my favorite. It's just the right amount of sweet, it's versatile, and my mum used to make it all the time. Everyone in my family likes it, in fact. I wish I'd brought a few more jars with me."

"Well, I'm sure we can get you the cake. I don't think there's anyone who can beat you in arm wrestling."

"No. There's one."

You crooked your brow.

He tipped his head back, staring at the sky as he relieved the memory. "Back then, Leona beat me effortlessly even after I used my unique magic."

"Whaaat." You dragged out the word. "For real?"

"I couldn't believe it at first too. It was humbling, to say the least."

"I bet I can beat him though." You mused. 

He exhaled sharply. "This is a battle of physical strength, not running head first into troubles."

"Unprovoked. But it's also a battle of wits. There's quite a few of his weaknesses I can use." The random theory took a contemplative turn as you started counting the cards up your sleeves: Leona might look like he had a rock for a heart, but you pulled a rare reaction from him the first time you called him your king. Caressing the back of his ears always elicited honest shivers. Would a smothering look or a wink catch him off guard? Hopefully he wouldn't mind you experimenting on him.

"You're probably one of the very few people who can say that." Jack shifted his weight to his other foot, briefly scanning the progress of the contestants before adopting a low voice. "I hope you don't mind me asking, it's been on my mind for some time now. How did you actually end up together? I'm aware that you got close after the Magift tournament, but the rest was a mystery… Nah, forget it. I shouldn't violate your privacy."

"I don't mind sharing," you reassured him. "Obviously it wasn't easy. He barely cared about me at first, even after the tournament, but I was determined to get to know him. There's no shell I can't crack, after all. He's strong and fierce and self-assured, but I also sensed that there was a brightness inside him that got snuffed out over time. I'm sure you're aware too. 

Anyways, the more we opened up to each other, the more I realized that he's not who he seemed to be on the surface. He's caring in his own way, and he's unfaltering when he has his mind set on a goal. His words may appear sharp, but he's not unsympathetic. Despite his arrogance, he's not so full of himself that he can't admit his faults. Where no one noticed, he was the one who found out that I was feeling out of place here… I got to know so many new sides to him. To be honest, I wasn't planning to fall in love, but this kind of thing just happens, like soft knocks on the door."

A tall woman marched past you, cursing loudly after losing her game. You stepped aside, realizing now that Jack had gone quiet. "Sorry for rambling, I got caught up in myself."

"Don't apologize. I think that it's sweet," there was a hint of a smile on his face. "You looked like my sister whenever she sees a pink morning sky just now. It's great to have someone you can rely on wholeheartedly. I'm sure he feels the same about you."

You were certain of that too. "Aw, stop. You're making me embarrassed." You punched his arm without a concern for your force; he probably didn't even feel it. 

The various battles seemed to have narrowed down to a few. The boss was standing in front of two straining men, faces red with blood, veins bulging on their necks. A battle cry forced its way out of one of them, only for him to be overwhelmed immediately. His body was loose as his boyfriend dragged him off the ground.

"Jeez. Alright, is there anyone else?" The boss asked. The victorious guy smashed his fists together, shooting silent warnings at anyone who was bold enough to even consider challenging him. No one moved.

"Me." Jack stepped forward, and you did a small, encouraging whoop from behind. The man glared into his eyes. He wasn't a lot shorter than Jack, and their physiques were similar, but you had faith in your friend.

"Start whenever you want, I'm getting sick of this." The boss mumbled.

Jack bowed his head respectfully before positioning his elbow on top of the counter, flexing his fingers. His rival mirrored him, assuming a strong grip on his hand. 

It started without a countdown, like they managed to communicate with facial expressions alone. All around you were held breaths as they struggled against each other–

–for one second. Jack immediately slammed the man's arm down like he was flipping a book.

"What the hell?" He cried out, holding his wrist in disbelief before making a run for it, as though in shame. 

"Congrats, you've won the cake!" The boss feigned enthusiasm. When the bystanders booed, he resumed his annoyed scowl, "Go home! It was a fair game!"

"That didn't go as expected," Jack told you as you watched the cake enter the safe protection of the corrugated box. "But I'm glad we won."

"All thanks to you. I didn't even get to chant my slogan. We will, we will, rock you-"

"Please stop."

"Okay." 

Laughter bubbled out of you a second later. Even he failed to hold in the titters that slipped past his lips as he shook his head. The ice was melting away already.

Jack volunteered to hold both the bouquet and the cake, so you took on the role of navigation. "Next up, we need to buy jewelry. I know a place."

It was a chain store of a brand Vil had not only done promotion for, but also personally approved of, so the quality was sure to be high. But so was the price. 

The two of you stood silently in front of the suited employee who went by Eris, staring unblinkingly at the silvery chains in the vitrine. The price tags glared back at you, who looked like you'd wandered in by accident.

"I was going to propose getting an expensive one since it's not our money anyways, but even the cheapest earring is worth ten times my life." You whispered.

"I wouldn't compare you with an earring, but I agree with the prices." 

"May I help you?" Eris asked for the third time since you'd entered the shop. 'We'll have a look around' probably wasn't going to work anymore. "Any particular kinds of accessories you're looking for?"

The thing was, neither of you wore that much jewelry anyways. It would only get in the way of his training, and you could barely spare money for your friends' birthdays, let alone luxury like this. But throwing it into your drawer with other miscellaneous trinkets was just sinister. 

"How about rings? We have promise rings for couples–"

"No, thanks."

"How about necklaces?" You suggested, which earned a satisfied look from Eris as she left to find you some styles.

"Why necklaces?" Jack asked.

"Well, neither of us is going to wear it, so I thought, why not give it to your cacti? You can put it around the pot. It'll be like dressing them up."

“A designer necklace for my cacti?” His brows knitted into a disapproving frown. “I mean, they deserve nothing less, but still-”

“Then it’s settled.” You replied. Eris arrived just then and ended any argument that might be forming in his head.

Most of the necklaces came in pairs, and each pair held no significant differences between one another. Sure, the charms varied in shapes and colors, but they were all just… argent.

Your attention landed on the pair on the fair right. Each half had a hand-shaped ornament that fit into each other when put together. The rest were pretty much the same: two halves of a heart, two halves of a cat, the same design but flipped over.

Your mind wandered. Adjacent to you was another couple admiring the opal bracelets hugging their wrists. Streaks of azure swirled within each crystal, as if there was a vast sea contained in every single one.

You really weren’t a jewelry person, yet once in a while, this kind of thing still had you indulging in daydreams. And only daydreams. It would be stupid to wear matching accessories anyways. It defeated the purpose of the whole secret relationship thing.

"In that case, I'll have this one." Jack referred to the pendant with a leaf-shaped charm. "Just one, thank you."

Eris looked bewildered, but she shrugged it off, picking up the chain and shelving the others away. It still hurt when you had to fish out all the money you had and then borrow some from Jack, but the knowledge that you could claim it all back gave a little relief to your throbbing wallet.

Jack pocketed the velvety box. "I hope it looks good with my cacti."

"Of course it will, I have immaculate taste." You wiped the tip of your nose with your thumb. 

Time flew past without a sound. You'd left school mid-afternoon, and now the blue sky had already been painted over with an amalgamation of warm hues. Your phone showed that it was already six. "We're kind of against the clock. Let's grab the last item and head back."

Your last stop was the local gift store, where a bunch of plushies and toys were displayed. As expected, the dolls were all related to love in all kinds of ways. There was a pink bear holding a love letter, two frogs with their hands sewn together, an elephant hugging a pillow in the shape of a heart. The only ones exempt from the influence of Valentine's Day were at the back of the shop. They were graduation plush toys and one that specifically said 'Happy Mother's Day'.

"Once again, this isn't my thing. I feel like you would be more interested…" he trailed off, spinning around to look for you. "Prefect?"

"Jack! Look at this! It's adorable!" You waved him over. In your hands were two avocado dolls, one with the seed in the middle and the other without. "Oh my goodness. And this!"

You picked up two monkeys that had their arms wrapped around each other. The fluffy fur seemed to melt away under your touch, and their hands could reach all the way around your waist. 

Truth was you'd already made something for Leona, but these monkeys? It was love at first sight. He was always complaining about your inability to stay over in his room anyways, so this could work as the perfect substitute. Even though he wasn't the type to hug plushies as he slept (it would probably end up on the floor), it would still remind you of each other. No one would even notice. It's not like people could just wander into his room. And yours–

Your dorm was basically a public area by now. There were times when Sebek and Epel invited themselves over and scared the living hell out of you because you'd left your phone inside with Leona's contact on the screen. Every time you had an impromptu sleepover, they made a competition out of stealing your plushies, except Sebek who had his own Malleus cushion. Deuce might not take note of the new plush member, but Ace was observant to a fault. You could already hear his voice yelling 'why do you have this monkey plush and where is the other one' in your ears.

"Then let's buy it." Jack said. 

You shook your head ruefully. "Ehh, maybe not. Now that I think about it, I don't really have that much space left on my bed."

"I thought you'd started invading Grim's?"

"Yea, but still." Returning the monkeys to the shelf, you turned around and started searching around again. 

If Ace was observant, then Jack was eagle-eyed, always detecting details in the most unlikely places. It wasn't difficult for him to notice where your attention had drifted off to back at the jewelry shop either. 

He cleared his throat. "So, about you and Leona. Have you decided how long the secrecy will go on for?"

You petted each plush you walked past, ruffling their heads. "Not yet. We'll see."

"Right," he turned the words over in his head, looking for a more natural approach. "But you’re both fine with the arrangement, obviously.”

“Of course.” You had to be. After all, you had your own reasons for keeping up the confidentiality, and you’d hate to be involved in any royal scandal Leona had mentioned. Even if the rules weighed on you at times, it was still better than attracting attention, right? “I think so.”

All this time you’d been walking on tip-toes believing that it could do more good than harm, but a short trip down memory lane proved otherwise: That one time you'd had to hide Leona in the closet, his legs had gotten so sore that you'd spent the whole light massaging the stiffness away. Your forehead was swollen for days after running into a tree while staying out of Rook’s watchful eyes. All those times you’d had to swallow the words you wanted to say to each other in public, a much needed embrace reduced to a pat on the shoulder.

It was supposed to get Ace and his naive accomplice off your back, but look where you were now: entangled in a web of misunderstandings, not only did it not work as intended, but you also got Jack into this predicament.

“...Back home, my brother always picks fights with my sister,” Jack started. “He’s at the age where he feels the need to act like an ass in any given situation. He’s stubborn about it too. Never apologizes to her afterwards. They could spend days ignoring each other.

Any time it happens when I’m around, I try to figure out how they feel. My sister thinks that he probably hates her, that’s why they never see eye to eye. Meanwhile he does feel sorry, but he doesn't know how to get over his ego."

"Typical siblings." 

"That's right. And then I sit them down and make them talk to each other."

"And it works?"

"Like a charm. Effective communication can pretty much solve half of the conflicts in the world, but it's hard to take the first step, especially when you don't know what the other person is thinking."

You let his words sink in, turning them over in your head. If you were to lay your heart completely bare, it would certainly be singing a different tune. Perhaps a chat would really make things better instead of pretending that nothing was out of place.

"You have a point there." It wasn't hard to grasp what he was trying to say, but if he wanted to be roundabout about it, then you weren't going to bring it to light. 

The two of you came to a stop in front of a felt box holding five keychains, a sweet rendition of a puppy family. He picked it up carefully. "Would you mind if I got this? My sister has always liked collecting keyrings like these."

"Sure. You're never beating the best big brother allegation, are you?"

A proud smile dawned on his face. "Hopefully not."

By the time you’d ticked off the very last item on the shopping list, night had already fallen. 

“I just realized something awful.” Jack said from behind. He was still holding the roses and cake, while you had the rest. “You didn’t get anything at all. I mean, the cake and the necklace, and even the recipient of this bouquet-”

“Hey, don’t worry. I was the one who ‘invited’ you to hang out, wasn’t I? It’s only fair that I treat you to something nice. Even though it’s Sam’s money. It’s the sentiment that counts.”

His face faltered for a second, then he assumed an earnest expression. “In that case, I promise to make it up to you, not just for the gifts, but also for the amazing company.”

"You're not so bad yourself, Jack."

The mirror portal was situated on a nearby hill, giving you the perfect view of the town under your feet. Streams of people weaved through the streets, the uniform structures and red roofs now adorned by pink banners and decorations. 

A strange sense of satisfaction filled your chest knowing that you’d completely defied what Ace and Deuce had planned for you guys. Although this wasn’t planned, you still had an amazing time roaming around town.

“Let’s head back now.” Jack said. You sent him a nod before stepping through the mirror together.

———

It was 7:45, and you were pacing around your room.

After returning to the campus and claiming the sweet thaumarks from Sam, Jack bid you goodbye and returned to his room trying to juggle all the rewards in his arms, earning envious glares from passing students.

That was half an hour ago. In that time you’d managed to rush back to Ramshackle, got dressed in the most formal outfit you could find in your humble wardrobe, and walked ten laps around the house trying to practice what to say to Leona when he got here. 

Hey, remember when we agreed to keep all of this under wraps? I kind of don’t want to do that anymore. Yea, the press could be after us. Yea, my friends are going to be a pain in the ass. No, I still want to go public with this. 

What if he felt that it was not worth the trouble? You trusted that he would respect your choices, but still-

Rapid knocks on the door pulled you back to reality. You all but stormed down the stairs and rushed to the foyer, swinging open the door.

There he was, clad in a simple black button down shirt and pants, his hair gathered in a high ponytail. In his left hand was a bouquet of roses, and in his right, for some reason, was his broom.

How did he even manage to look perfect in everything he wore? 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, kipenzi,” he stepped in and met you half-way with a kiss, trying to lean in for another when you pulled away. You almost forgot that you’d been anxious just a while ago. 

“Happy Valentine’s to you too, mpenzi,” The nickname never failed to make his tail swish in contentment. You beamed as he handed you the roses. The card indicated that there were 33 in total, and if your memory served you right, it symbolized ‘I love you’ with affection. 

“How was your day with Jack?”

“It was great.” You answered briefly, pulling him into the lounge by his hand.

“Just great?” 

“If you must know, we walked around town and bought tons of stuff. We decided to treat it as a friendly hangout.” 

“I see.” He said tersely, willing his jaw to unclench before you could see it.

“You/re not getting green-eyed, are you?”

“They’ve been green my whole life, sweetheart,” he smirked as you rolled your eyes. 

“Touche.” You headed to the sofa and picked up a huge paper bag. “Ta-da! Here’s something I made you.”

Placing his broom against the wall, he reached inside, expression shifting when he felt the soft fabric. Slowly, he pulled out the content and let it fall to the floor soundlessly.

It was a crocheted blanket big enough to roll both of you into a burrito, the pattern mimicking a chess board. The only detail you’d tweaked were the king pieces, which had been turned into two snoozing lions. 

He spent a good minute observing the blanket, as if trying to take in every single detail. Finally, he asked, “So this is why you couldn’t stay over at my room for the past two months?”

“Yea. It could’ve taken me a month, but I had no prior knowledge about crocheting, so I had to start from the ground up.”

“You could’ve just commissioned someone, you know. Would’ve saved a lot of trouble.” He said mindlessly, running his hand down the smooth yarn. 

“Maybe I should take it back then-”

“Hands off, it’s mine.” His face scrunched up, arms holding the blanket close to himself. During winter, his family had sent him more than enough blankets and duvets, all made with the most exquisite of fabrics, but this might just outshine all of them. “And it’s unique this way. So… thank you.”

If you were going to start the conversation, you reckoned that this was the perfect timing. "There's something I've been-"

"Wait a sec. I have more surprises." He wrapped the blanket around your shoulders so that only your head was uncovered and grabbed his broom. "Close your eyes."

You did as told, pulling the blanket up to shield your face. Some distance away, you heard the light switch flip. "I didn't know you had this many things planned."

It sounded like he was talking from a great height. "You didn't think I was just going to give you roses, did you?" Something cut through the air. "Though it did take me some time to figure out what to do, so you better appreciate it with all your heart."

"Roger that." You paced around in an aimless circle, listening to the faint winds trailing behind him as he flew around the lounge. For a moment you wondered if he was cleaning the place, but it was highly unlikely that he would volunteer doing so. 

"Okay," the next time he spoke, he was right in front of you. "You can look now."

The lights were out, which normally meant the room should be cloaked in darkness, but it was different today. On the roof were densely scattered glow-in-the-dark stickers piercing the dimness, mimicking stars. A few of them extended to the walls, as if the sky was melting. Some were larger in shape, others mere dots, but together, it looked like the whole galaxy had been moved inside.

Your mouth fell open as you took in the constellations spread out in front of you. There was seemingly no word that could encapsulate the feeling welling in your chest.

"I promised that I would show you the night sky of Sunset Savannah before, but the opportunity hasn't presented itself, so this will have to do." He leaned in to observe your face. "Hey. You're not crying, are you?"

"No." You croaked. Half amused and half concerned, he reached for your arm and pulled you into a tight embrace.

Being held by Leona never failed to make you feel like the most treasured person in the world. His fingers threaded in and out of your locks, pressing kisses to the crown of your head as you hid your face in his shoulder. You leaned into him, so close that your hearts might as well melt into one. 

Leona Kingscholar had always shone in every room he was in, but nothing came close to the version of him only you got to see. His love came in both showers and drizzles, both intense and tender. It blew you away and made the lining of your stomach feel warm. He was the island you'd go to when you felt like drowning, the person you could call home in this scarily foreign land. Sometimes it felt like every bad thing would go away so long as he was holding your hand. 

He's undoubtedly the best thing that had ever happened to you, you thought, and you wanted to love him wildly for that. No hushed secrets, no retreating in the dark. You wanted to braid his hair and let the world see. You wanted to let him rest his head on your lap while you worked. You wanted to pass him tooth-rotting notes in class, and you wanted and wanted and wanted. You wanted to liberate all of these hopes and desires.

There was no way you could hide what you felt for him when it was brighter than all the stars in the universe combined.

"I need to talk to you about something." His voice was muffled in your hair. 

"So do I, actually." You tore yourself away, wiping the warm trails on your cheeks.

You followed him and sank onto the floor, shifting closer so you could get under the blanket together. He fixed his gaze on the chair behind you for a second, looking like he was trying to declutter his mind, before returning his attention to you. "What happened with Jack today has got me thinking about things between us."

Your breath hitched. It was like he was reading your mind.

"Most of the blame goes to your dumb friends, obviously. But I believe that some misunderstandings stemmed from us trying to keep everything a secret. And I know I said that it was troublesome to just go public and stuff, which I still agree with, but the truth is…" he ran his hand through his hair and it sprang back into place. "You're worth it. All of it. The press, the nosy halfwits in this school, my family, they are nothing compared to how much I absolutely adore you. Screw the troubles. I want to let everyone know that you're mine, and that I'm yours." A beat later, he added, "Plus, if something like this happens again, I'm not sure I can keep my cool."

He drew a deep breath. "The only question left is, what do you think?"

"I think-" you chuckled, feeling the previous nervousness dissipate. It's funny how effortless it was for you to be on the same page. "I think the absolute same! I've been pondering about how all this secrecy has been keeping us from each other, and I just despise that. Nothing is critical enough that it should be able to make me compromise my feelings..."

His grin grew wider and wider as you rambled on and on, until he had to cut you off with a kiss right there, laced with relief and unbridled joy. You couldn't help but smile into his touch, relishing in the new found solace. It was like your heart had found air again.

Under the starry sky, Leona rested his head against you, hand finding yours and giving it a small squeeze. "I love you."

"I love you more."

"Oh yea, you want to make this a competition?" He quirked his brow, and before you knew it, you were going back and forth without a regard for the passing hours.

You might not have been able to spend the entire Valentines' Day with him, but you knew that there was still tomorrow and the days after that, enough for you to tell him all the ways you loved him as much as you wanted. It would always be like this– bathing in each other's presence, letting the love drape over you two like a blanket. 

Only this time, you wouldn't have to hold back anymore.

———

"Hey," Trey walked up to Cater, who was walking to and fro in the middle of the corridor. "What's this emergency you were talking about?"

"Trey! Thank the Queen of Hearts you're here." He pulled the taller man towards one of the dorm rooms, where the door was slightly ajar. A stern voice could be heard from within, though it was too faint for him to string together a coherent sentence.

"Jack asked me to let him in because he had something urgent to say to Ace and Deuce, and it looked like a storm was verging on his face so I complied," Cater moved aside, signaling Trey to take a peek. "He's been in there for a good while, and it doesn't sound like fun."

Trey let out an exasperated sigh. He'd spent the past few days baking cookies and chocolates, and he could frankly use a break. Still, as the vice dorm leader, he couldn't just turn a blind eye when the underclassmen got into trouble. Bending down, he squeezed one eye shut to get a clear view of what was going on inside.

Jack was standing in the middle of the room, arms in front of his chest, tail moving stiffly. The usual seriousness of his expression was mixed with an edge of irritation. 

On the edge of the bed sat Ace and Deuce, who were as still as twin popsicles, hands clenched on their laps and head low. Deuce looked especially guilty, like he'd just done something terrible like eating Riddle's tarts. Ace was mildly annoyed, but unable to utter a retort.

"...totally inconsiderate and disappointing behavior… the result could've been egregious!"

Trey blinked, then backed away from the door. "We'd better give them some more time. They've done something egregious ."

"Wow. That's a big word. I wonder what exactly they've done…" At Trey's disapproving squint, Cater waved his hand dismissively. "Don't look at me like that! Of course I won't use our cute first years as topics for gossip~"

The two made their ways back to their rooms then. Another thirty minutes later, Jack finally ended his speech in resignation, rendering the two culprits and frankly inadequate cupids speechless. In his deep breaths, he picked up the faint fragrance of roses lingering on his clothes, and let out a soft sigh.

Hopefully it was enough to repay all the presents you'd given him today. 

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #sie writes #leona x reader

[pfhwrittes]

the aftermath.

rating: mature audiences.

pairing: john "soap" mactavish x simon "ghost" riley.

word count: 1.8k

notable tags / warnings: transgender john "soap" mactavish, fluff, humour, very light angst, references to offscreen sex, egregious use of scots, banter, swearing.

A/N: i wrote this instead of sleeping, it was meant to be the set up for another part of my trans!soap drabbles but it took a wild left turn into feelsville and so no actual smut occurs in this fic. however, it is funny and fluffy (in my opinion). as always this can be considered to be very lightly edited so typos and weird grammatical goofs are likely to remain so for that i apologise.

–––

unsurprisingly, it’s kyle that catches on and confronts him the following afternoon as johnny pushes some truly god awful looking peas around his tray in the mess. 

“so, who’d you fuck last night then mate?” 

kyle plunks himself into the seat opposite johnny, dropping his tray with a clatter. the shepherd’s pie on his tray sags slightly and johnny feels a disarming bolt of empathy for the oozing mince and potato blob. sue him, he’s still feeling a little tender in places, alright? not that he’ll be admitting that to garrick of all people. 

“dunno what you’re oan about pal.” johnny sniffs and pokes a particularly dehydrated pea with his fork. there we go, nice and breezy. no need to give the game away son. 

kyle scoffs and aims a kick at johnny’s shin under the table. 

“oi! ya fuckin’ roaster, the fuck wis that for!” 

“i know you fucked someone last night. price was complaining about the stink in his office this morning.” kyle points his fork at johnny’s chest accusingly.

well, shit. johnny knew he should’ve got simon to crack the window before he got fucked seven ways from sunday. again, not that garrick needed to know that particular practical tid-bit of organising a secret rendez-vouz with your superior officer. 

johnny clears his throat nonchalantly and picks the spot over kyle’s left ear to address. 

“who’s to say it wasnae the captain gettin’ some last night?” 

the look kyle directs at johnny could probably be used to store clean cut finnish ice directly from fucking lapland with how freezing it is. 

“because he was with me, you tosspot.” 

johnny can’t help the way his face slips from carefully blank neutrality into something a wee bit more salacious. 

“oh aye, is that right?” johnny abandons looking at kyle’s ear to shoot him the dirtiest smirk he can muster. 

“fuck off mactavish.” kyle scowls, “you know what i meant. he was watching the bloody footie with me.”

“is that what you kids are callin’ it these days, eh?” johnny waggles his eyebrows knowingly just to watch kyle glare even harder as he leans forwards to stab johnny in the chest with his fork. 

“hey! mind the nipples, they’re fuckin’ custom! i spent money on these things!” johnny pouts and rubs gingerly at his top, pulling a face as he smears mashed potato into the fabric. gross garrick. 

“shut up, you got ‘em on the NHS like everyone else, you dickhead.” kyle shoots back.

what was sure to be a brilliantly witty retort gets silenced as price appears from nowhere, glowering down at his two sergeants like he’s just found two of his wayward puppies rolling in something long dead and incredibly pungent. 

“mactavish. a word.” 

johnny gulps and shoots kyle a betrayed look as soon as price’s back is turned. 

“oh sorry mate. must’ve slipped my mind. captain’s looking for you.” kyle grins, looking for all the world like butter wouldn’t melt in that clever wee mouth of his. 

bastard. 

––

johnny does not fidget. not even once. he’s cool, he’s calm, he’s co-

“it was reported that you were seen leaving this office - my office - at 0300 hours this morning, sergeant.” price rumbles from behind the - his - desk. 

-mpletely and utterly fucked. 

and not in the way he was only twelve hours previous. in this very room. over that very same desk. steamin’ jesus. 

johnny pointedly does not meet price’s gaze, instead he continues staring at the cinderblock behind his captain’s shoulder like it contains the secrets of the universe. or perhaps a false brick that when nudged just right would open a portal to hell under his feet. 

the chair under price’s bulk creaks as he settles back, watching for any sign of guilt or admission. the cigar propped on the edge of the cut glass ashtray sends a smoky tendril into the air as it drifts lazily to the window that johnny can see is cracked open a fraction in his peripheral vision. 

“nothing to say, sergeant?” price’s voice is deceptively soft and a shudder runs up johnny’s spine unbidden. fuuuuuuck. the way he sees it, he’s either fucked once if he admits to being somewhere he very much shouldn’t have been with company he definitely shouldn’t have been fraternising with, or fucked twice if he tries to deny it without knowing all the facts. he is, as the big bastard himself would say, in a spot tighter than a nun’s cunt. 

johnny swallows drily, preparing to take possibly the stupidest risk of his career and possibly his life so far, when a solid knock on the closed door saves him. thank christ. his heart soars - 

“enter.” price commands. 

almost immediately the hulking figure and current cause of johnny’s predicament steps through the door near silently to stand shoulder to shoulder with johnny. just a hair too close to be considered professional.

“lieutenant riley, good of you to join us.” 

- and promptly falls out his arse. 

good to know that there was a third and far worse option available to him. 

––

centuries or possibly even aeons later, a knock rouses johnny from the light doze he’d slipped into immediately after clambering into the tiny twin bed provided in his room. sent away from price’s office in disgrace, the sounds of his shouting still ringing in his ears. but even worse, the way that simon - ghost - simon had refused to even look at johnny before he turned on his heel and stalked down the corridor. away from him.

“nngh.” johnny grunts intelligently and swipes a slightly tacky palm over his face before letting it drop to brush against the worn carpet tiles. fuck getting up to let price in here to yell at him some more, or to deal with gaz’s kicked puppy look. he’ll stay exactly where he is ta very much, despite the way a spring in the lumpy mattress is poking into his right kidney something fierce. and the fact that now he’s awake he could do with a drink to rinse away the gummy feeling in his mouth. eurgh. 

the knock sounds again. 

“fer fucks sake, come in then ya -” johnny calls out grumpily, lifting his head from the pillow and his eyes flying open so he can glare at the door from his supine position.

and once again, simon “here to make shit worse for him specifically” riley steps through the door.

“- prick.” johnny finishes weakly. oh. well this is awkward. 

simon hums quietly in agreement and quietly shuts the door with his foot. johnny blinks, not entirely sure if he’s agreeing with being called a prick or if the situation is awkward. 

“bit o’ both really.” simon rumbles. ah, right yeah. johnny’s always had a habit of saying the first few thoughts that pop into his head immediately after being woken up. always makes one night stands a bit awkward in the mornings. 

“hm. is that the reason you’ve never let me stay the night then?” simon asks as he drops heavily into the tactically acquired chair in the corner of the room paying no mind to the fact he’s sitting on johnny’s freshly laundered skivvies. 

“somethin’ like that, aye.” johnny swallows awkwardly, christ he needs a drink of water, “that an’ i thought we’d get -” 

“caught.” simon finishes tiredly. 

johnny huffs out a sound that if he was being charitable could be considered a laugh under the right circumstances. this isn’t the right circumstances. obviously.  

“aye. yeah. that an’ all.” 

a silence stretches between the two of them then. it’s uncomfortable to say the least, aching in a similar way to johnny’s neck as he continues to peer at simon, who is sagging like a half-empty rucksack. johnny lets his head drop back onto the flat pillow underneath him so he can gaze sightlessly up at the water stained ceiling tile. what a fuckin’ mess. 

“‘m sorry.” 

it’s said so quietly johnny could half believe he imagined it. 

“‘s not yer fault, don’t worry about it.” johnny says flatly to the water mark on the ceiling. he closes one eye and squints, hm. looks a bit like a pair of knickers like that. johnny hears simon take a steadying breath from across the space. oh. johnny opens both eyes and lifts his head, his expression carefully blank. 

simon is hunched over now, his elbows resting on his thick thighs and he’s staring fixedly at the carpet just in front of his boots, purposefully avoiding johnny’s eyes. 

“simon?” it’s a gentle nudge but johnny watches as simon’s broad shoulders tense up, his biceps flexing as he fidgets with his clasped hands. oh. that’s more of an admission of guilt or responsibility than anything simon could say. johnny knows this man, inside and out at this point. he’s economical with movement in a way that can only ever be learned through being completely aware of your size and surroundings. never a fidgeter. always still. always controlled. 

“‘m sorry.” simon repeats quietly, allowing his head to hang down and exposing the soft nape of his neck where his balaclava gapes away from his shirt. in better circumstances johnny would get up and chance a kiss on his exposed skin just to hear him make a soft pleased noise that always reminds johnny of a cat purring out a raspy mrrr of contentment.

“did ye go to price an’ tell him then?” johnny asks levelly despite the way his heart has suddenly decided to reside in his large intestine again for the second time today.

simon’s head jerks up and he frowns. 

“no - i - no.” simon states firmly and johnny takes a shuddering breath. good. 

“good.” he says out loud. “i didnae think ye would.” johnny tacks on just to watch some of the tension in simon’s shoulders leak away. the urge to comfort simon wells up behind johnny’s ribs, it’s a tender thing and it makes johnny’s breath hitch a little unsteadily. he sighs dramatically to cover it and flops his head back onto the pillow again. 

“c’mon then, get over here ya big bastard.” johnny orders faux-peevishly. 

“what.” 

johnny groans and rolls his eyes. simon can be unbelievably dense when it comes to intimacy that doesn’t involve being bent over the nearest suitable surface sometimes. 

“‘mon then, i want a cuddle before price decides to split us up for the rest of our careers.” johnny raises his arms and makes a grabbing motion much like a wee toddler would to demand being picked up. johnny tries not to be insulted when that seems to be the reason that simon hefts himself to his feet to stand awkwardly at the side of the bed. 

“‘m not gonna fit.” he states and johnny rolls his eyes again. 

“sure ye will, just don’t squash my tits, alright?”

there’s a pause before simon states in his usual blunt manner - 

“how th’ fuck am i meant to do that, you ‘ad ‘em chopped off at eighteen.” 

and for some reason that makes johnny burst into relieved laughter. 

aye, they’ll be alright.

#simon ghost riley x john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #call of duty fanfic #jm #sr #transgender john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley is a bit of a secret marshmallow #kyle gaz garrick is a little shit #john price is annoyed by his subordinates (again) #and i decided to write this instead of sleeping #scheduled post #please forgive any spelling errors i beg of you #surprise! posting this instead of my usual WIP Wednesday snippet

[irelandking]

steve rogers fic recs

steve rogers x reader

❤️ = fluff 😔 = angst 🔥 = smut

modern cap steve x regular reader

series:

mr. steve - @pies-writes-and-more

part 2 Soulmate AU In a universe where your soulmate’s name is written on your wrist after you meet them, receiving a wedding invitation from her friend is just another reminder that (Y/N) has yet to find her soulmate. But maybe this wedding will be a little bit more exciting, with the help of a tiny child without a filter. ❤️

one shots:

the waitress - @pies-writes-and-more

 Done for a writing challenge // song prompt: “If things get worse, will you still be here?” 405 by This Wild Life. Steve Rogers has finally worked up the guts to ask out the super cute waitress at the diner he frequents… except it’s hard to ask out of a girl when you’re a) already super nervous, b) unsure if it’s rude to ask her out, and c) when you have Dumb and Dumber insisting they tag along. ❤️

vigilante - @invisibleanonymousmonsters

Steve reacts to his girlfriend getting violently mugged. ❤️😔

under pressure - @invisibleanonymousmonsters

Steve still doesn’t know how to talk to women…let alone how to get a first date with one ❤️

boardroom fantasies - @pies-writes-and-more

prompt: “You wanna have sex….here? Now?” Steve can’t help how tight his pants get when (Y/N) is working nearby. While everyone else goes out for drinks, he pulls her aside to show her that the Accounting Guy who keeps asking her out isn’t who she should be with. 🔥

morning wood - @angrythingstarlight

Your new neighbor Steve gives you more than one surprise in the morning. 🔥

perfect - @tempestuous-lush

reader breaks up with steve over insecurities regarding lack of experience. he insists she is perfect, and proves to her just how perfect she is. 🔥

blind date - @invisibleanonymousmonsters

It had to be fate when Steve runs into his work crush on a stroll through his old stomping grounds.  ❤️

guard dog - @invisibleanonymousmonsters

Sometimes Steve has to protect his girl from the least expected attacks. ❤️

agent/avenger reader

series:

start again - @wkemeup

part 2 A chemical spill, uncontrollable desires rushed to the surface, an unbridled need, and the consequences in the aftermath ❤️😔🔥

embarrassment - @a-confused-turtle

part 2 and part 3 A drunken game of truth or dare reveals what Y/N didn’t want anyone to know. She’d been perfectly and contentedly miserable before her slip up, but the confrontation over her little secret, which she avoids at all costs, quickly catches up ❤️

one shots:

blue - @pies-writes-and-more

Steve in blue is too much to handle whilst sober, (Y/N) decides. So while attending Tony Stark’s birthday party, (Y/N) doesn’t stop to drink her anxiety away making for entertaining company for Steve ❤️

hickeys - @a-confused-turtle

 Y/N wakes up in her boyfriend’s arms and the day begins as it always does, sneaking out of his room, until Tony notices lovebites on shy, quiet Y/N’s neck. ❤️

wallets, keys and bobby-pins - @marvelouscaptainrogers

 Soulmate AU where anything you lose suddenly appears in your soulmates possession, and anything they lose will appear in yours. It usually works swimmingly for everyone else, but what happens when your soulmate is technically around 75 years older than you? ❤️

insubordination - @marvelouscaptainrogers

Y/N likes to be a little asshole and not follow orders, and Steve decides she needs to learn her lesson 🔥

jealous (strong) steve - @pies-writes-and-more

Steve Rogers, the man behind the shield, knows that his strength only came from an injection. He isn’t a Norse god, how could he compete against Thor who seems to have all of (Y/N)’s affections? Steve Rogers is a jealous man. A strong jealous man who just keeps breaking things.❤️

whisper - @redgillan

Natasha and Sam have a plan to make Steve confess his feelings. ❤️

major crush - @redgillan

 Laser Tag brings out Steve Rogers’ competitive side and Reader loves it. 🔥

it's your captain's birthday - @witchywithwhiskey

you're avoiding steve rogers' birthday beach party by relaxing in the ocean, but when he finds you alone in the waves, your captain is sure to let you know how much he appreciates that you wore a bikini in his colors to his party—and things escalate from there. 🔥

the best birthday gift - @witchywithwhiskey

you attend a party at avengers tower celebrating the fourth of july and steve rogers' birthday and make a fool of yourself when introduced to captain america, the man you've crushed on for most of your life. but when you run into him while avoiding the fireworks show, he's more than happy to spend his birthday distracting you from the party.🔥

steve - @assembletheimagines

Steve’s never had a blowjob and could you really consider yourself a friend if you didn’t suck his dick? 🔥

you'll always be the sexiest man alive to me, captain - @witchywithwhiskey

steve rogers is named people's sexiest man alive and his fellow avengers—along with their SHIELD support team—won't let him live it down, but when you make a smartass joke in front of your new colleagues, you catch the eye of captain america himself. turns out he *really* likes it when you call him captain. 🔥

college!steve

one shots:

kissing booth - @viollettes

After Nat volunteers your services at the kissing booth, you find yourself sitting across from you is none other than your best friend. ❤️

the end of the war - @redgillan

Everyone knows you and Steve can’t stand each other, but after he runs into you after one of his fights, he starts to see you in a different light.❤️😔

she calls me daddy - @hertzwritings

Frat-Boy!Steve Rogers x female reader 🔥

oopsy daisy - @whateveriwant

 In order to keep the animal shelter from closing, your sorority holds a car wash as a fundraiser. Besides cleaning cars all day, you have another goal in mind involving a certain football-playing frat member. 🔥

modern au

series:

slow like honey - @heli0s-writes

The gossip that buzzes around in the teacher’s lounge is that sweet, sensitive, divorcé Steve Rogers is hot-for-teacher. His daughter’s first-grade teacher, to be exact. ❤️😔🔥

at your service - @writing-for-marvel

part 2 As your bodyguard it’s Steve’s job to look out for you, when you find him in a compromising position, it becomes your turn to look after him. 🔥

one shots:

a french kiss - @pies-writes-and-more

Y/N came to Paris with a plan: take a photo with a cute man next to the Eiffel Tower, just like how her and cheating ex-boyfriend had always planned on doing, and make that son of a bitch jealous. Thankfully, there’s a super cute blond guy who just so happens to be nearby. ❤️

take a hint - @pies-writes-and-more

(Y/N) literally just wants to go out and have a good time with her girls. So why do guys seem to never take ‘no’ for an answer? To try to prevent more annoying encounters with men who can’t take a hint, (Y/N) slips on two rings onto her left hand and assumes the married life. It’s all well and good… until someone sees the rings as a challenge. Enter from stage right, our hero. ❤️

ask - @angelkurenai

Imagine Steve wanting to introduce you, his fiance, to his friends for a long time  but hesitating because he hasn’t told them something about your past and how you met. You were once his student. ❤️

nature's beauty - @biteofcherry

Your teasing comment about staying home barefoot and pregnant makes something in Steve snap. He’s now eager to turn it into reality. 🔥

lilacs & ink - @witchywithwhiskey

you go in to get your first tattoo and the very attractive tattoo artist steve rogers takes good care of you.❤️

mob!steve

series:

ask - @invisibleanonymousmonsters

part 2 two prompts combined ❤️ 1.  here’s people chasing us and I pulled you into the alley with me and wow you’re close 37. We’re dating and I didn’t know you were a mobster

biker!steve

one shots:

where he belongs/don't f*ck with the queen - @angrythingstarlight

It’s not often someone challenges your place as Steve’s queen but they only make that mistake once. And Steve knows better than to let anyone think they can take your place. 🔥

#steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut #steve rogers au #steve rogers #steve rogers x you

[daisydaisybilly]

could you do a Sejanus angst fic where he finds out snow betrayed him instead of being hanged and the reader comforts him (heavy angst, heavy hurt comfort)

take me to the lakes | s.p

pairing: sejanus x covey!gn!reader

warnings: heavy angst, hurt comfort, fluff, swearing and spoilers of both movie and book

word count: 560

a/n: Thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy it, I love sejanus getting a happy ending. Sorry it took so long to get this done :( had a busy few weeks then I just wanted to enjoy Christmas with my family. Not that happy with this but I think it has something to it :/

Also added this request: an au of where Sejanus lives instead of dies but finds out coryo betrayed him (his only true friend betrayed him and left him heartbroken/extremely hurt) so he goes home and seeks comfort from burning that photo of him and snow (kind of inspired by the song burn from Hamilton) but he burns the photo and then sobs his poor heart out

MAIN MASTERLIST | REQUEST OPEN

Sejanus had appeared at your door, in the middle of the night. His face dark and stormy. 

The rest of the covey were still fast asleep, when you snuck out and headed to the lake together. Sejanus wanted to be alone and only there would you be away from hearing ears. 

The sky was a light pink by the time you reached the lake, he still hadn’t said anything but the storm had passed leaving only hurt. Theories spun in your head, had someone died? His Ma? Was he being sent away? You touched his arm, “What’s wrong?”.

He looked around, making sure no one was hiding in the trees. “Love” you whispered, hoping to pull him back to you.

He uttered your name. 

You half pulled him into the last house that remained and built a fire, you made him sit close by, he must be in shock you thought. Tears started to fall, panicked you hugged him, his head in the crook of your neck.

“What happened?” you asked.

“Coryo-” he swallowed, “He betrayed me”. 

You inhaled a sharp breath, the plan, the rebel plan. 

A plan you were a key part of, it would break the others heart, working with Billy Taupe but you couldn’t live one more day in 12 and you knew if the others had the same chance they’d jump on it.

“Oh love” you sighed, holding him tighter. Coryo was like a brother to Sejanus, this betrayal would run deep. You pulled apart, then you noticed the crumbled picture in his hands, of him and Coryo from their school days. 

“What am I going to do?” he asked hopelessly. You felt yourself crying, “I don’t know but I do know he has never deserved you or your friendship”. 

You had never been a fan of Coryo, even after Lucy Gray  came home and told you how he had saved her. The night he had watched her sing at the Hob, it was like he owned her, your blood ran cold thinking about it. 

Another night at the Hob after you and Sejanus had started to fall in love, Coryo had said something about them all being above the people of the 12. He and Sejanus Capital men and you and Lucy Gray were Covey. 

Once he and Lucy Gray left, the two of you, you learnt close to Sejanus and said, “Be careful of that one, love.  He’ll do what it takes to survive”.  He had shook it off, assuring Coyro wasn’t like that and at the time you chose to believe him.

“You have to stay here and I’ll tell the others to bring the plan forward” you said, the plan coming together in your mind, “and I’m gonna tell Lucy Gray what he has done”.  He nods meekly, the picture shaking in his hand. Then in a blink he straightens up, “I thought he was different”. “I know love” you sighed. “But he is just like the rest of them” he muttered, then he threw the picture into the wild flames and burned the picture, first the edges curled up melting then the flame engulfed it fully. The air smells like smoke and chemicals, the wild batted against the building.

You could feel the heat from the fire in your chest, it spread through your limbs to your fingertips.

“He won’t get anyway with this”    

#the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #sejanus plinth #sejanus x reader #sejanus x gn reader #sejanus plinth x reader #senjanus plinth x gn reader #gn reader #x gn reader #gnreader #hunger games #hunger games fanfiction

[xxsycamore]

𝙂𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙤 (Leonardo x reader)

↬ 🐈 Some period cramps can be cured with the help of a cuddly little kitten, and some others require a bigger, cuddlier cat.

Leonardo da Vinci x reader • rating: G • tags: Menstruation; Period Cramps; Fluff; Pets; Lumiere • wordcount:  743 • masterlist

a/n: You voted for Leonardo! Here it is, another fic in the series! If you happen to suffer from cramps and you want your favorite ikevamp suitor comforting you in their own unique way, may I offer: Napoleon, Comte, Mozart, Theo 💕(All fics in this series share the same opening scene!)

It’s another beautiful day at the mansion, and the sun is continuing to shine brightly outside as afternoon settles in. Your list of chores is more than half-way done now, the morning was a productive one and you pat yourself on the back for pushing through at your usual pace, even if your period surprised you early this morning. Sleeves rolled up and armed with a feather duster, you march towards the lounge room to take care of another chore.

Specks of dust dance in the afternoon sun, windows wide open, as you complete your task little by little. Soon the sections left to dust decrease and you start to tire - a minor pain in your tummy appearing as well, as if to persuade you into taking a short break. You throw a look at the grandfather clock. You’ve been a busy bee; not even the distraction of dusting off some of Comte’s highly intriguing antiques couldn’t get you late on your own schedule.

You sit down at the spacious couch area, grab a throw pillow to hug, and fall on your side - shoe-covered feet juust hanging off the couch because it won’t be worth the effort of taking them off for just a minute or two of rest.

Uh-oh! The pain doesn’t go away and only gets worse instead. Suddenly moving as much as a millimeter equals signing a death warrant.

“Help” You whisper to yourself, clutching onto the throw pillow.

***

" 'Scusa Cara mia, may I interest you in switching pillows with me?"

Startled, you open your eyes to discover Leonardo looming over you - you must have dozed off. With the melodic, deep voice you're familiar with, the surprise lasts a mere second before melting away, and in its place grows a sprout of affection that whispers 'I missed you'. Those sentiments have to get squeezed into a minuscule timeframe, because you have to react to the "pillow" trusted in front of your chest - it's black and furry, and it meows in a confused greeting.

Most naturally, you take Lumiere in your hands, accepting the deal gladly - and Leonardo takes the throw pillow instead. Shifting to lie fully on your back, you welcome your favorite little gattino to cuddle close to you, and he makes himself comfortable on your stomach. Any suspicions that the little angel in a devil's disguise would add to your pain vanish the second you find yourself relaxing into the couch, with Lumiere on top of you.

You gaze up at your wonderful dopamine dealer, wondering if he's truly content with what he got on his side of the deal. He puts the small pillow behind his head and sinks into the nearby armchair, admiring the sight of his two favorite creatures stacked atop of each other. He chuckles and crosses his legs at the feet.

"I was going to suggest medicine, or a message. But that would've gotten you back on your feet too soon, and you gotta rest. But now I guess it's no more moving for you, huh?"

You look at Leonardo with defeat, but also with thankfulness as soon as the impending sigh leaves through your lips. There indeed is no moving when precious Lumiere is on top of you, and there indeed is a certain need to rest that your body has been trying to signal about.

"…Leonardo? How did you know?"

"I have my ways, tesoro. Been noticing the signs, I knew it would be one of these days. Took a wild guess when I peeked inside and saw you on the couch."

Your second sigh is carrying a bit of that gushy embarrassment, but it's cut short because of the sensation of Lumiere jumping off you. He sneaks out through the left-ajar door, leaving only the memory of the soothing warmth on you.

"Nooo…"

"Must've heard Sebastian making the pots and pans noise, eh? Acting like I don't feed him…"

Your outstretched hands and the little overdramatic frown on your face carry the power of getting your mountain of a boyfriend to his feet despite his well-anchored state. Before you can decide what is he approaching you for, he sinks to his knees and… lays his head down on your belly. Gently. Right where Lumiere was a second ago.

The warmth is back, but this time it spreads all the way to your cheeks.

"It seems like a bigger cat came to make sure I won't be able to get up…"

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran    @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @animeworldsposts @randomanimatedhusbandoseeker @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @pro-cat-stination @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @canaria-blackwell @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 ​ @ikemenlover24 @violettduchess @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @cilokgoang Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikemen vampire leonardo #ikevamp leonardo #ikemen vampire leonardo da vinci #ikevamp fluff #ikemen vampire fanfic #ikemen series #ikeseries #cybird #ikemen #otome

[theharrowing]

Showstopper 📸 2: The rumors really are true

Hoseok knows the rumors.

Everyone in the industry knows the rumors.

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

Still, when Hoseok gets the call to audition for the magazine at which the elusive Min Yoongi works as the lead photographer, he does not hesitate to say yes. This is Hoseok’s dream, and he will be damned if he lets some industry hotshot stand in his way. He is an up-and-coming model who has worked with some of the hottest, most chaotic people in the business; surely, one man is not capable of hip-swishing into Hoseok’s life and throwing a wrench in all his plans. 

📸 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 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 of 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 dick, 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 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.

#hoseok x yoongi #yoonseok #sope #yoonseok smut #hoseok smut #bts writers club #yoonseok angst #hoseok angst #yoongi smut #yoongi angst #bts smut #bts angst #fic: showstopper