#also why does he hold the mic like that and why do I find that attractive | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

popatochisssp · 6 months

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IM IN LOVE WITH ALL THE NEW BOYSS!!!! I was wondering what hobbies they would have? Would any of them skate? What about make art? Play piano, perhaps?

Quick sidebar, it would probably be easier to ask who can’t skate than who can—at least regarding ice skating—because the majority of the skeletons lived/grew up in Snowdin and had plenty of time to practice their ‘don’t pratfall on the ice’ skills, so they’d (almost) all be at least passingly competent at ice skating, and then whatever learning curve is involved with slightly transferable skills to not-ice skating.

That said!

…You know, I realized I never did an accounting of all this, even with the first two waves of boys, so…

This is by no means a complete list of everything the boys might enjoy doing—despite the fact that this is huge and completely got away from me, oh my god seriously do not open the readmore on your dash—but!

Sans (Undertale):

He’s a goofy guy, so it’s probably no surprise that he’s into comedy. He’s a lover of puns and pranks and jokes in general, just…maybe not as casually as he makes it look. He does a little stand-up now and then, open mic nights mostly nowadays, but he’s played to larger audiences before at the MTT resort. He’s also got a pretty sizeable collection of comedic paraphernalia—rubber chickens, whoopie cushion, snapping gum, you name it—just on the off chance he might get to use it in a prime moment. He spends a lot of his free time reading joke books, watching other pros perform, and even, on occasion, don’t tell anyone, but… studying the science of humor, what people seem to find funny, how, and why. He doesn’t like to let on, because he thinks it makes him seems a little less cool and funny if you know he goes out of his way to research this stuff sometimes instead of just vibing on improv, but he genuinely finds the subject fascinating and likes to read about it. Alas, he’s a nerd…

And as such, he’s also very into physics. Quantum physics as food for thought in his downtime when he just wants to chew on some conceptually heavy stuff, but classical and practical physics make for some great experiments and demos, especially as party tricks or ‘hey, you wanna see something cool?’s for interested onlookers and he’s so all about that. Want to try an egg drop from the roof with popsicle sticks and straws? He’s got tape and a fresh carton right here. Maybe make a magnet out of a battery? Sure, there’s wire and nails around here somewhere… Or maybe you want to bet him he can’t hold up a water bottle with nothing but a string and three matches? C’mon, 10G—no, 20G. But really, he’ll take any excuse to do a cool demo of stuff he knows.

As for stuff that doesn’t demo quite as well… It was a little less apparent Underground, but there was a reason he had that telescope of his and it wasn’t just because he liked pranking people with paint on the eye-piece. He did love doing that, of course, but he also genuinely loves stars and space, learning about it and looking at it now that he actually has the opportunity to—he’s got his telescope to use on clear nights, a yearly pass for the local planetarium, and you better believe he’s subscribed to NASA’s newsletters for regular updates on the goings on out there. He tries to play it cool, but stars and black holes and nebulae are cooler, it’s hard not to get invested in everything to do with them…

Papyrus (Undertale):

Of course, he’s the master of puzzles, and not just your basic jigsaw! …Well, maybe sometimes a jigsaw, he’s not morally opposed to them but really, he needs a challenge for his intellect! He doesn’t mind a word puzzle here and there—as long as it’s not a crossword—but physical puzzles are his favorites, anything to employ his spatial reasoning and impressively fine motor skills. Rubik’s cubes are fun, linked wires, interlocking blocks, really anything in three dimensions that he can fiddle with and manipulate until it surrenders to his incredible greatness. He’s very proud of his solving ability and definitely brags about it, but he’s not just blowing hot air. He really does have a great knack for observing disparate pieces and fitting them together conceptually to see what they can be before ever starting to physically assemble them and the joy of bragging aside, he loves getting to exercise that particular mind-muscle and show his smarts.

In a similar vein, he’s also a big fan of model-making. Planes, trains, automobiles and the like, and no small amount of action figures, he likes to build them up piece by piece with his own two hands. It’s fine to populate his theoretical battle scenarios with gifts from brothers and Santas, or stuff he found at the Dump, but it’s definitely his preference to start with a kit and put it all together himself, watching it gradually take shape with his diligent effort. Maybe he’ll go off-book from time to time, a little bit, but customizing things to his own unique specifications just seems the thing to do when he’s already doing the rest of the making. All the gluing and cutting and painting and lacquering by hand… it’s the art of creation—and what nobler pursuit is there than that?

Well, there may be one other thing. As a truly renaissance man, he’s naturally well-rounded in his interests, intelligent and creative and yes, physically fit too! For him, there’s no better way to stay in shape than by playing sports, most any kind! Basketball, soccer, hockey, tennis, he’ll play any sport, just explain the rules and give him the ball—or don’t, depending on the objective and rules of the specific game in question as you’ve described it. The desirability of the sportsball does seem to vary quite a bit, so he’ll need to determine whether he wants to obtain or get rid of the ball, puck, shuttlecock, whatev—no, that’s the accurate term, it is not! Whatever you’re thinking! Stars, be mature… But! He likes games and being active and having friends, all of which are part and parcel of engaging in sports, so he’s really always up for a game.

Sky (Underswap Sans):

He likes to bake! He’s not a professional and in fact, he finds it to be quite challenging at times—there’s way more restrictions than cooking on how much to add of this, making sure to do that before the other thing but after this step, the oven has to be at exactly the right temperature… There’s a lot of steps and rules, but that’s kind of what he likes about it. He likes trying to see if he can make a thing, and then if he can, what tweaks he can make to flavors and textures without compromising the end result. He’s not always successful—he’s definitely ended up with sopping wet cakes, burnt pie crusts, overly salty muffins—but frankly, the experimenting to get it right is all part of the fun! He tends to make more tasty treats than he does failures and he’s happy to share those around with friends and family anytime. Baking may be an exacting mistress, but he loves to tango with her all the same!

Speaking of which…well, he may not know the tango specifically but he does love to dance! He’s got a lot of energy and a solid sense of rhythm, and that combo tends to result in at least a little shimmy of a two-step when there’s a good beat going on—and all bets are off entirely if there happens to be a dance floor and a favorite song playing. He likes dancing with a partner, or in a group, but he’ll dance all by himself if he’s feeling the mood, like nobody’s watching…or rather, like everyone’s watching and he wants to impress and lure out a little company to join him. He even has a tendency to put on music and dance in place a bit when he’s doing otherwise boring chores around the house, like dishes or vacuuming, and while he doesn’t mind doing his dancing solo then too, he’s always delighted to find someone who’s willing to dance along.

He wouldn’t turn down some company for a bit of outdoor exploration, either. A hiking trail maybe? Or some rock climbing? A nature trail or just a walk in the park wouldn’t go awry either if something a little less strenuous is required! He does like the exercise but it’s mostly the nature and all things green that he wants to see and be out in—trees and flowers and even grass. His house would probably be packed with greenery if he…hadn’t…killed every single plant he ever tried to keep…but! Since he does indeed have a deadly black thumb, he likes to visit the plants, in their natural habitat where he has no control over whether they live or die (so they’ll probably continue to live).

Paps (Underswap Papyrus):

It’s no secret that he’s a bookworm. He loves literature and always has—his brother will tell you he was reading before he was even talking, and as embarrassing as it is every time he brings it up, it’s not untrue. He reads voraciously, with a preference for fantasy, romance, and poetry, but he’ll read pretty much any book he can get his hands on. It’s probably no surprise that he’s been inspired to do a little writing of his own, over the years. He’s pretty private about his own work (especially the poetry, oh god, he’d dust on the spot if someone saw his poetry) but he still loves to talk about the written word and techniques used in its conveyance and form, and the struggles writers face in trying to communicate the ideas they have stuck in their heads. He’s great for reading recommendations if he knows the kind of things someone likes, but his go-to recs will always be his personal favorites.

Pride and Prejudice is one such favorite. He’s seen all the film adaptations and miniseries, and branched out from there, first into stuff inspired by similar works, then originals, and then…okay, he’s maybe a little bit addicted to period pieces in general now. Whenever a new one comes out, anything about regency or royals or the nobility in a dramatic setting, he pretty much has to watch it, more only a question of ‘when’ and not ‘if’ he’ll be checking it out. Naturally, he’s happiest when it’s coming out on a scheduled basis, because if an entire season drops all at once he’s going to sit there and binge it and it’s much harder to deny he has an addiction when he just pulled an all-nighter about it. He can’t help himself, he has to see if the socially mismatched couple can make it work and be wed in the end, love winning out over silly class divides…

When he’s not actively obsessed with either of those things, though, he dabbles a bit in calligraphy. He’d probably hesitate to call it a hobby, he does have a couple of those fancy pens and some nice paper and ink to use them with, and he’s decent at it, but definitely needs to practice more to be able to do the really fancy flourishes without blotting the ink or scratching the page. He can certainly do some simple, clean lettering if needed! Like…if you want a poster or a sign to look neat and professional, or…maybe you want the ‘To Do’ list on the fridge to have a fancy header or something? (His end-goal is to be able to do his own drop-caps and an elaborate cursive title for the cover of his book, someday, maybe, who knows…)

Jasper (Underfell Sans):

He likes working with his hands, making things and having something to show for his time and effort. (Knitting? No, that’s, that’s not a hobby, that was a necessity, just for special occasions now, he’s not…naw, c’mon…) He’s something of a car guy. He likes engines and wheels and pistons and how they all work together to make something that goes fast, and he likes understanding how all the pieces fit together and how to fix them if something breaks. It’s something he practiced Underground with busted old engines and bikes that fell down, and a career he pursued on the Surface, but even in his free time he likes tuning up his car, his bro’s car, restoring glory to a classic bike he got at a steal of a price and she’s gonna purr like a kitten when he’s done—he’s just…happy, with his hands buried in an engine and grease all over his face.

And speaking of grease on his face, he’s pretty passionate about food, too. Not so much the cooking of it, though he’s not too shabby in the kitchen when he puts the effort in, but more the eating of it and appreciating the flavors and textures. He’s got a lot of strong opinions on how done a steak oughta be (medium-rare), what belongs on pizza (anything but candy), and how to eat chips with your sandwich (in it, for that extra crunch of texture). ‘Gourmet’ sounds a little too snobby for his tastes, food doesn’t have to be expensive to be good and in fact, it usually isn’t—some of his best meals have been from holes in the wall—but he does like going out to such places to eat and socialize, maybe have a chat and give his compliments to the chef (and definitely not try to wheedle any recipes), that sorta thing.

But after all that, when he really wants to wind down, there’s nothing he likes better than a bit of gaming. He’s not much for multiplayer, he prefers doing his own thing at his own pace, but he likes having some kind of objective and making it happen. It gives a nice sense of accomplishment that he can get while sitting down—which is great. He tends mostly towards puzzle/adventure type games more than pure battle scenarios and beat-‘em-ups, he feels like there should be some strategy and skill involved, or the satisfaction of the win just doesn’t come through as strong. (Protip: do not watch this man defeat a Dark Souls boss if you are easily stressed out. He taunts between strikes and dodges at the very last second because he’s got the timing down to a science. Maybe try Pokemon or Zelda instead…)

Pyre (Underfell Papyrus):

His first great love is and likely always shall be the theater. He didn’t have too many opportunities Underground to go see live stage plays, but he’s long since broken the spine of the collected works of Shakespeare that got him started and memorized its contents, water-stained cover to water-stained cover. He can recite any of the Bard’s work by act and scene number, of which he is incredibly proud, but he’s at least passing familiar with a handful of other manuscripts or popular stage-to-film adaptations mass produced enough to have a chance of ending up in the Dump in decent condition. On the Surface, he definitely wants to see some things live and gets only a reasonable amount of excited about specific productions’ quirks and narrative choices. Joining in on local theater himself? Well…he’s very busy these days… (Maybe after retirement?)

Another passion of his pulled from the depths of the Dump is his guitar—a bass so sturdy and lucky that it made it all the way down without breaking a string. He thought it was cool as soon as he saw it and really wanted to have it and learn how to play. It’s been an uphill struggle since he’s entirely self-taught with regards to his equipment settings, guitar maintenance, and even reading music notes, but the few sparse instruction manuals he’s managed to find were helpful. His own stubborn determination to figure it out and be the kind of cool guy who knows how to play bass has taken him a long way, and he’s starting to make some deep, pleasant sounds that he’s very happy about… But he’s still nowhere near ready to play for anyone, he couldn’t possibly, not until he’s good at it!

And when he’s having a bad time at that, or anything else is ticking him off and there’s no better outlet to blow off steam, he knows he can always fall back on a good work-out. Even in a Kill or Be Killed sort of place, it’s not always a good idea to go picking fights and yelling and cussing and beating the stuffing out of other people—so whenever he feels like doing that, he’s in the habit of beating the stuffing out of a punching bag instead, or lifting weights, or doing one-handed push-ups, something strenuous. He may not be a machine made of meat that releases good-feeling chemicals after a successful exertion, like humans are, but he still feels great after getting to work out and clear his mind of everything but what his body’s doing so he likes to keep up a regular routine. You don’t want to see him after he’s missed a few work-outs, he gets very testy.

Mal (Swapfell Sans):

Pretty much from the moment he came into existence, he’s loved math. Call him a nerd all you like, but numbers are his happy place, where everything is straightforward and exactly what it’s supposed to be and if he doesn’t understand something, he’s probably only missing a variable and when he finds it, everything will make sense again. He has apps and workbooks around with equations for him to solve in his downtime like some kind of freak, but lacking those he’ll sometimes just make up his own math problems and try to solve them in his head—how long will it take for the water cooler to be empty if the tap is dripping at a regular interval of one drop every forty-seven seconds, should no one notice and intervene to repair it? The drum holds up to five gallons, but has already been emptied by approximately—

Okay, that’s enough math. He’s also into whittling, though he’s miles less confident about his ability. He’s not terrible, really, just very self-critical so he tends not to show off the things he makes, but he likes having something to occupy his hands while most of his attention is elsewhere, with the added bonus of having a knife in one of said hands should someone surprise him—self-defense is important, you know! In any case, he’s not as good of an artist as his brother, or even as good as he’d like to be, but it’s something to do and he can only improve with practice. Someday, with the proper equipment, he might even get into full-on woodworking, with chairs and tables and cabinetry and such that are far more straightforward to make than fiddly little figurines, but for now he just has a whittling knife and wood and too much stubbornness to quit at anything once he’s started.

As for something a little (debatably) higher-brow, he also has an interest in wine. He’s no sommelier, of course, but he’s run in fancy (royal) circles for long enough to have tried his fair share of fermented fruit juices. There are some he likes (dry reds), some he doesn’t (sweet whites), and plenty in between—but the topic makes for excellent conversation at lots of dinner parties and formal occasions, so he felt it helpful to learn a few things here and there so he knows (or can pass as knowing) what he’s talking about. On the Surface, he actually gets to take a wine tasting class and put a formal polish on his book-learning and first-hand experience, and makes a point of trying new brands that catch his attention. (He’ll never admit it aloud, but he’s far more swayed by a cool label or an interesting bottle shape than a high price tag—even cheap wine tastes just fine if you aerate it!)

Rus (Swapfell Papyrus):

He’s an artist, first and foremost. His most frequent medium is pen and paper—it’s what he started with and what he’s practiced the most—but it’s never really occurred to him to limit himself to only one thing so he’s tried out a lot of different techniques and utensils and can use most of them effectively. He’s not formally taught, seen some pictures and read some textbook entries of famous pieces and art movements, but everything he’s learned he learned by screwing around with it until he figured out how to make it look like he wanted and in the process, he’s built up a pretty strong base of skills. Mostly, he likes to draw (or sketch or paint) things he’s seen, recreating memories like a photo without a camera, but sometimes he goes on more abstract style experiments, trying to express a vibe or a feeling more than a moment. He finds it meditative, grounding more than anything else he’s tried to relax and it makes him happy to have a creative outlet.

As far as other ways to relax and have fun, something that’s really blossomed on the Surface for him is his interest in fidget toys. Not too many made it Underground for him to enjoy then, just a lonely broken palm-tangle and about a hundred Rubik’s cubes in various states of disrepair—sadly he got so good at solving the cubes that he doesn’t even consider them puzzles, just color-block-pattern simulators—but the Surface! There’s so many stim and fidget toys for him to get his hands on, and so many Ultimate Super Satisfying Compilation vids online to show him new ones. Poppers, spinners, chewelry, clickers…some hit better than others but he likes trying things out, playing with toys that are brightly colored, or feel cool, or make a nice sound. He keeps his favorites and sells or donates the rest, gotta make sure to leave room somewhere if he wants to get a new one.

He also makes a point of walking to the stores and donation centers and post offices at which he exchanges these items because—at the risk of making him sound like a dog—he loves going on walks! He was a shut-in for awhile, afraid of strangers outside, and to an extent he still is (social anxiety), but the Surface has different rules and for a lot of reasons, it feels safer for him to be out and about now, and he likes taking advantage of that. Fresh air and sun and slow, easy movement without having to look over his shoulder, free attention to spare to his surroundings and the chance to stop somewhere and check out a new place… He really likes it and tries to make time to go on a walk at least once every couple of days, destination entirely optional.

Slate (Horrortale Sans):

He’s a rock guy, and he’s not talking about the music genre—just rocks, or crystals, the kind you find in and on the ground. He likes the pun potential (ask any geologist, there’s a million) but also it’s just something fun and low-stakes to do, to collect and find and examine stones and crystals whenever he happens to come across them. A lot of his facts and knowledge base predate the head injury, too, so it’s something he tends to know a good amount about and can have a high-level conversation about at length, of which he’s very proud. Plus, having a bunch of rocks around doubles as both home décor and paperweights, so you gotta admire the versatility of it. He's always on the lookout for new stones to add to his collection, or to talk about and pebble—I mean, gift to his friends and family.

He’s an animal lover as well, which is…not much of a transition from the previous paragraph. He had a pet rock once, does that bridge the gap? Not really. Ah well. The point is, he likes critters, usually ones smaller than him but that’s not hard since he’s a pretty big guy. His past and the things he’s done don’t matter to animals, all they care about is whether he’s an immediate threat (he isn’t) and if he has food to give them (likely), and not having to worry about that is a heavy weight off his mind. He can be totally relaxed around animals so he likes spending time around them whenever he gets the chance—fur and fluff is a plus but he’s got nothing against scales and feathers, creatures come as you are and he’ll get you some water and a treat and maybe a scritch.

But if he must be around humans, or other sentient beings (he must, he’s not built for social isolation), then magic is the ace he keeps up his sleeve. Not the real stuff, of course… Though he’ll naturally be happy to show an interested onlooker a bullet or two, real magic is something any monster can do, even if they were literally born yesterday. He likes fake magic, sleight of hand tricks and misdirection—disappearing and reappearing coins, spoon bending, levitating cards—y’know, the cheap gimmicky shit. It’s fun to learn and easy to practice, works very well with a lot of skills he already had. It also has the additional plus of being disarming for anyone who might be a little…intimidated by him, his size and spooky appearance, especially if he can’t get a joke out quick enough to show he’s harmless, so he likes picking up new tricks when he can and showing them off when he’s got ‘em right.

Papy (Horrortale Papyrus):

He loves to cook! He’s gotten a lot better at it since the old days, trying to learn from Undyne’s lessons and it’s become a genuine passion for him to hone his skills in the kitchen and then (hopefully) show off to guests and friends and family who come over to share a meal. He considers it something of a puzzle in its own right—how to use these ingredients to get the most nutritional value with as little wasted as possible. He’s figured out a lot of ways to repurpose bits that usually get thrown out and in some cases, even make more tasty meals with the castoff pieces (his veggie-peel soup stock is to die for…not literally, but it’s very good)! His favorite part is naturally when people eat what he makes and shower him in compliments, but a close second is knowing that he’s fed his loved ones and they won’t ever leave his home hungry.

Since he does so much in the kitchen and, for the first time in a long time, he has an unfrozen yard for two or three quarters of a year and easy access to seeds, he’s also taken up gardening. Mostly, he grows his own vegetables and herbs but he has the space and the inclination so there’s plenty of colorful flowers in the mix too. He’s very attentive to his crops and flowerbeds and does everything his plants need to flourish and bloom. He delights in praise for his good work and the gratitude when he has a big enough harvest to share with friends and neighbors, or maybe to donate to the local food bank if they’re willing to take it. His garden is his pride and joy and no dirt or weather or pests will stop him from maintaining it!

Now he does have one hobby that’s just for his own enjoyment, not even peripherally related to others, and it’s pure unadulterated guilty pleasure: he adores watching soap operas. The more theatrical and contrived, the better, he can’t help but get sucked into the cheesy drama of it all. He started with just one hospital show and kept watching to tut and shake his head over inaccuracies, and then there was another show on after it that had a wild opening hook, and then…and then… Alas, he found the telenovelas. His enjoyment of them is only somewhat hampered by his inability to understand Spanish, but you’d be surprised how much you can glean from context clues and some things transcend language—it’s too late for him now, he’s recording every episode that airs during the day to watch later, he must know if Gloria’s twin sister will run away with her amnesiac fiancé!

Ash (Undergloom Sans):

Music’s the big one for him. He’s very low-energy and when you’re both depressed and physically fragile, it’s not always possible to go out to where other people are, even when you want to—but music can come to you, no matter how bad you’re feeling, and for that it’s become a huge pillar in his life. His favorite genre is classical (can’t get more classic than The Classics), but he’ll listen to most things, though he’ll always want a physical copy of it to keep if he likes it. CDs, tapes, even vinyl records, digital file only just doesn’t cut it for him. He plays his own music too, rarely with sheet music and mostly just riffing whatever feels right at the time. His trusty trombone is more than just a vehicle for incidental music, it’s like a pal that’s always been there for him even if he didn’t have the energy for it sometimes, and he makes sure to keep it in prime condition.

On his better days—of which he’s been having a lot more since reaching the Surface—he very much loves to be around people and one of his favorite things to get to do with those people is play games, board games to be specific. Monopoly might get a little too violent for his tastes, but stuff like Scrabble, Sorry!, Jenga, all up his alley. It takes a mix of skill and luck to win, which keeps things interesting, and barring a snack break or a celebratory dance of some kind, can be enjoyed entirely sedentarily, which is excellent. He probably shouldn’t be allowed to play cards (he counts them), and his brother swears he weighs dice (he doesn’t), but everything else is fair game and he likes having something he can shine at while also getting to hang out with friends.

But when he’s at home, or he can’t find a group to hang with, he spends a good amount of time cloud-gazing. Not star-gazing, though the sky and the stars are beautiful of course, but his interest is in the atmosphere, on the weather. There weren’t too many weather conditions to be found Underground—snow and rain and hot, basically—and the descriptions he’d heard and read of the kind of stuff that happened on the Surface had always captured his imagination. Clouds, storm cells, fog? It was interesting, and he read about a lot of atmospheric conditions without ever really expecting to see any for himself… but he’s actually up here now. And here, he’s the type of guy who owns a barometer, watches live Doppler radar feeds with rapt interest, and can tell you if it’s going to rain without even checking the weather app, just by taking a look up. His interest in meteorology actually has some practical applications now, go figure.

Yrus (Undergloom Papyrus):

He’s a cook, and though that may not be his job title, he takes it almost as seriously as if it was. For him, it’s both a passion and a language, a way to reach out to people and connect when there aren’t words—or when there are, but they’re not enough. He thinks of every meal he makes as a gift for the person he’s making it for and as such, it’s not enough for it to just be good food—it should be personalized to suit the recipient’s tastes, bespoke to what they like! That said, he primarily cooks comfort foods, stuff loaded with butter and cheese and salt because that’s what his depressed and struggling loved ones seem to like the most. It’s not always to his tastes, but it’s a point of great pride for him to have dinners at his home feeling like the end of Thanksgiving, everyone full and content and at risk of dozing off on the sofa.

He takes such pride in his cooking that he makes most everything from scratch, and that’s how he got into canning. To get to be such a good cook and to have such a discerning palate, you start to get a bit dissatisfied with store-bought spreads, and you start thinking of how you could tweak it, just a bit, and come up with something a little better. And well, of course he has a sweet tooth and doesn’t he deserve to gift himself a treat from time to time? Which is not to say he doesn’t share his jams and jellies and preserves when he gets to making them—which is anytime there’s a good sale on fruit—but at the risk of making him sound arrogant, he’s absolutely spoiled himself for even the big brands at the store. Sure, he could buy it, as-is, or he could make it and enhance the flavor with a bit of mint or cinnamon or whatever it’s begging for, exactly to his liking. …He does go through quite a lot of jars, though.

So it’s a good thing that he knows all the best home goods stores in the area to buy mason jars, and loyalty perks at every one that offers them because he’s such a frequent customer. He’s very particular about the way his home is decorated and spends a lot of time and effort into cultivating just the right homey, comfortable, clean vibe for the space, so of course he’s always thinking of ways to use his décor to do just that. He doesn’t like a static environment so he frequently moves things around, takes away old things, and adds new ones—scented candles, decorative bowls, accent pieces, really anything that catches his eye-socket. He’s a natural-born homemaker, really, it's a shame he doesn’t have a spouse to appreciate all his talents (yet~).

Brick (Horrorfell Sans):

Okay well now knitting is a hobby of his, now that he’s too big and scary to give a shit what anyone thinks about his yarn-crafting. It’s a skill from before the head injury (and the Everything Else) so it’s not like having to pick up a new skill and something you can be competent at is always nice. He finds it pretty relaxing too, if he’s honest with himself, and grounding—between the repetitive motions and the tangible product of his effort and time having passed, it’s a good go-to for him when he’s stressed and needs to calm down, or when he’s disoriented and has to reorient onto something real. It’s a pretty nice side-hustle too, selling what he makes online, but even if it wasn’t for someone, he’d still knit for himself.

…But it’s maybe not so much of a side-hustle because he doesn’t really have a main-hustle to be doing his knitting on the side of. He mostly hangs around the house as an unemployed self-employed bum. And if you’re bored, in the house, it’s probably only a matter of time before you notice something that needs attention, something broken or askew or in need of a fresh coat of something, and that’s what happened to him, and how he started getting into a lot of DIY home repair. He’s got a background in a lot of technical and mechanical stuff, the confidence to poke around in unfamiliar things, and he certainly has the time, so he’s become something of an all-purpose handyman, regularly sweeping the place to see if there’s something he can fix or tune up. Leaky faucet in the kitchen? Engine maintenance on his bro’s car? Heating ducts making a weird noise? No problem, he’ll check it out, probably an easy enough fix.

He doesn’t stay cooped up in the house all the time though. …Most of it, maybe, but he likes to sit out on the porch or hang in the yard sometimes and get a front row seat to all the wildlife lurking around. He keeps a bird-feeder topped up so the birds always come by, and he’s maybe not so diligent about making sure the bird-feeder doesn’t also become a squirrel-feeder, so there’s a few of them around, too. He has a bad habit of leaving food out for neighborhood strays—cats—and every now and again he’ll catch one and get it fixed, but the food’s also lured in a few other critters it wasn’t meant for. He shoos away the raccoons and possums and (on a couple occasions) foxes that end up on his doorstep, but he likes seeing them so he probably won’t ever really stop. There’s a local murder of crows who bring him offerings of bottle caps and buttons and other junk, and he’s half-convinced they worship him as a god but that’s definitely not going to his head or anything, don’t worry.

King (Horrorfell Papyrus):

He likes to meditate. That’s perhaps an understatement, he needs to meditate—even after abdicating his throne and resuming a civilian life, on the Surface with food and safety and funds aplenty, he has a lot of stress and on any given day, he’s wound tight as a spring. Old habits die hard, and old guilt and pain and fear die harder, and he has a tough time relaxing naturally. Having a set time and routine to sit and breathe and clear his mind, deliberately, is crucial for him. He’s got a room set aside just for it with only related paraphernalia—meditation music, incense holder, a zen garden—inside, a space empty of distractions where he can just relax and let everything else go. It’s either that or be more open and vulnerable in therapy and the latter’s not happening any time soon, so his meditation room is the only thing standing between him and a mental breakdown.

That’s a humorous exaggeration, of course. He also has his bonsai trees, which serve a similar function. He got his first around the same time he took up meditation, thinking it might just be a nice plant to set the ambiance, but as he started caring for it and cultivating it, it grew (pun not intended, how dare you?) into its own thing. He’s got lots of bonsais now and takes great deliberate care in their soil, their water, and meticulous pruning to keep them all growing healthy and strong and in exactly the way they should. There might be something to be said there about power and control and healthy, positive outlets to explore those needs, but for him they’re just his trees—his responsibility, his to keep alive, his to keep in line… And it’s nice to have plants in the house, they really add something to a space, don’t you think?

Something else he’s into that’s slightly more social is chess. He learned a lot about tactics and strategy during and in the lead-up to his reign, both from books and hard experience, and chess is a strategist’s game—all about studying the field of play and your opponent and thinking ahead to achieve your desired outcome. He started by playing against his brother, learning the game and gaining confidence, and then later against Toriel while he conspired to overthrow Undyne, which taught him more about thinking like a warrior monarch and how to strategize against one. Ever since, chess has been his preferred way to get to know someone and he finds the insight into a person’s thoughts (through their choices and idle conversation during the game) to be an invaluable asset. …It’s also somewhat fun, enriching he supposes, or else he probably wouldn’t keep so many chess sets in the house, or regularly go to the park to seek opponents at the public boards. But what business is that of yours?

Merc (Horrorswap Sans):

His physical…situation…is complicated. Until he gets his DT under control, he starts literally melting down whenever his emotions are too high which means that most of the things he would’ve done before for fun and exercise are out. His solution to that is yoga, a low-stress, low-impact way to stretch and move and keep his body functional, without the risk of upsetting himself and others by turning into a puddle! Going through the forms helps him focus his mind and ground him in his body at the same time, which he loves, and it’s something he can do solo or in a group, which is also great depending on his mood and need. He attends a studio at least semi-regularly, whenever there’s a class going on, and he loves it as a way to meet new people and socialize in a low-key way. Even after his melting problem gets sorted, he keeps the yoga as a part of his life and routine—it works for him, even when a lot of other things didn’t!

Escapism has also always been there for him: the sci-fi flavored genre specifically. He’s been in pretty dire need for distractions to take his mind off his condition and his frustratingly slow-going research, and fiction was a great fit, depictions of far-future times when technology is advanced but people are still people and the problems of today are all solved and done with—just the problems of tomorrow left to solve and there’s always hope somewhere out there in the universe. Yeah…he can use a little bit of that. Back Underground, he’d seen a few popular sci-fi series that managed to fall down—Star Trek, Star Wars, and a few others—but he falls back into it hard on the Surface when he discovers that the full collections are available, usually remastered and listed out in chronological order, and so many other fans to talk to about it, wow! And oh, the merch, so much merch… He’s only a mortal man, how is he meant to resist a phone case designed to look like a communicator from The Original Series? Or a replica of Obi-Wan Kenobi’s lightsaber? Or… Okay maybe he’s just enough of a nerd for it verge on a financial problem but he’s having fun, let him have this.

It's not like he’s not bringing in a paycheck, with his little home bakery business. He’s gotten serious about his baking and really ramped up his technical skill, and good flavor and texture is surely a way to keep a customer base, but he wanted to draw in the new customers and for that, he had to get good at decorating. As an amateur, he didn’t care so much if his frosting was a little messy, or really try to do anything at all beyond maybe some food coloring and sprinkles here and there, but in the interest of trying to elevate his business to the next level, he started experimenting more with design techniques—and he discovered he loves it! It takes a lot of skill and precision to execute on top-notch cake décor and he likes the challenge of learning something new and perfecting it until he’s ready to offer it as a technique to his customers. He’s the king of drip cakes, master of mirror glazes, and has the cleanest foil and luster work you will ever see. He’ll tackle geode cakes next, just you wait!

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus):

He used to hate spooky shit. Horror movies, ghost stories, creepy stuff meant to send a shiver up your spine and make your heart (if you have one) skip a couple beats—he couldn’t handle it and any hubris otherwise would leave him looking at pictures of kittens trying to forget about it so he could sleep. But then… Wouldn’t you know it, then he lived through a horror: a terrible creature from another world came to his sleepy little town and killed seemingly everybody they could find, and he survived but the world changed, and everyone went hungry, his best friend disappeared, his brother started melting and he almost died and then came back wrong… And now the fake spooky stuff doesn’t seem so bad. Actually it’s…kinda fun? Scary stories and creepypastas still freak him out, a little, but his tolerance for it has gone up considerably and now he seeks out the genre on purpose, to create and consume, because it feels a little good to get scared by something fake instead of all too real.

His new interest in horror turned him on to movies in general. Not that he didn’t like watching movies before, but being especially invested in a specific genre got him reading about analyses of themes and filming techniques, lighting and staging and all the behind-the-scenes choices made in casting and shooting, and he loves being able to point those things out. Watching a movie with him, any movie, will probably trigger a film-buff monologue about something—‘oh see that’s a long shot, they do that when they’re trying to…’, ‘that’s not cg by the way, it’s actually a matte painting and…’, ‘y’know that scene when he kicked the helmet, it turns out he…’ et cetera, et cetera. He’s not trying to be a bore or a know-it-all, he’s actually just really interested in the way all these things, choices or accidents, come together to make a movie and he can talk about it for ages…or complain about it, if it happens to be a crappy movie. He does so love to complain…

Throughout all of this, if his attention isn’t split by his laptop, he’s usually keeping his hands busy another way—with origami. He’s almost always got a lot of scrap paper lying around in reach and for lack of anything better to do, he’ll grab a piece and start folding it. He started screwing around with those notebook edges left over after you tear out a page, but those are messy and ran out of folds real quick, so eventually he looked up some deliberate things to make out of paper and even bought some origami paper specifically for practice and nicer looking results. He’s pretty good at hopping frogs and flapping cranes, and who can’t make a boat, but his go-to is definitely the little stars you make out of the long strips. He’s got a big jar of the stars and keeps making more to add to it, not for any reason, really, but…it’s fun to make ‘em and they look pretty so why not?

Pitch (Horrorswapfell Sans):

He’s a thrill-seeker. Not necessarily the death-defying stunt kind—though he cheated death once already and might be a bit cockier about his odds the next time around than he ought to be—but any thrill, even the cheap ones. He spent a lot of time Before hedging his bets and prioritizing just about everything but himself, and now he’s decided to spend the rest of his time doing the opposite, chasing excitements and novelties and things he was too cautious or restrained or just too spartan to go after. He seeks out new restaurants, trendy bars, relationships, activities, anything that catches his fancy at the moment. A lot of the things he tries out don’t stick, falling by the wayside after the luster of ‘exciting and new’ wears off—you really only need to try a PB&J burger the once, and if you’ve ridden one mechanical bull, you’ve ridden them all—but some things make an impression.

Boxing is one of the things that stuck for him. He always worked out to stay in good condition and it was a habit he kept up on the Surface, joining a local gym as soon as possible for access to the weights and the punching bag. Fisticuffs was a last resort for him when dealing with actual problems, but hitting things was a great way to blow off steam—and as repressed as he was, he had a lot of steam to blow off, so his form and footwork was always top-notch. He got noticed for it, invited to spar in the ring, and to keep a short story short, he loved it. It’s a challenge being blind in a fistfight, but in a very positive way for him, giving him a chance to use his reflexes and his soul-sense to take on his opponents and most of the time, win. It’s a visceral, almost primal pleasure for him to get to fight in a reasonably safe arena, with people who are also fighting for love of the sport and no aim to seriously injure or kill, like a dance but with someone who wants to knock you out and vice versa.

And speaking of dancing, he’s very fond of that as well for similar, yet less violent reasons. He doesn’t really dance solo, simply for joy of the music—his enjoyment is almost exclusively in the partnered activity, when he has someone to match steps and mirror movement with and combine his awareness of his body and theirs into a cohesive picture. He likes the give and take of it, the way that he can have a physical experience with someone, a conversation without a single word being spoken, all from movement and synchronicity with whoever’s signed his dance card. He knows a few formal dances already and hasn’t forgotten the steps so he’s well-prepared for a polite ballroom experience… but he’s also learned how to let his metaphorical hair down lately, and a bit of dirty dancing is hardly off the table, should his partner for the evening (or afternoon, morning, midnight) be so inclined.

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus):

What happened Underground sent him into probably the worst art-block of his life. Even picking up a pen got hard to do with anything more than the intent to jot down a note for himself and he spent entirely too long with utterly dry wells of inspiration, not creating anything at all. In a desperate attempt to rekindle something creative, he ended up searching ‘art ideas’ online and discovered the vast world of craft projects. It was easier for him to actually make something when he had step-by-step guides and didn’t have to draw on his own (lacking) inspiration, and he quickly gained a liking for what he could make out of things he already had lying around the house and art supplies that were collecting dust—coffee-filter peonies, paper-straw wreaths, tin-can organizers, et cetera. He likes upcycling and getting to find use in things that might otherwise be discarded, and he really enjoys getting to put his own personal touch into crafts inspired from the internet.

He's proud enough of his works, in fact, that he wanted to show them off and—lacking real-life friends—he started posting photos of his crafts online. The response was positive but eventually, he started getting dissatisfied with the quality of the pictures he was taking, fuzzing details or altering colors, and he began looking into ways to improve the shots he was taking, lighting techniques, camera settings, angles and framing… By the time he invested in his own high-quality camera (and read the manual, front to back), he was seeing art everywhere, not just in the things he made but in the light through trees on a misty morning, in the waft of a curtain by an open window, in the people walking along the sidewalk out in front of the house. He has an eye-socket for it now and he’s always considering The Perfect Shot, how to capture the beautiful moments happening all the time with his photography. He’s good and getting better all the time, the more he practices his staging and editing.

He definitely wants to diversify his portfolio, though. Of course, he’s great at capturing domestic scenes, being a shut-in and all, but there’s more out there in the world, to see and photograph and be part of. It takes him awhile to get there but once he does, he’s very passionate about traveling. He spent such a long time stuck—first Underground, and then in his home on the Surface—and his scenery and his experiences were limited, but once he’s free there’s so much new and beautiful and exciting that he can access and he loves being able to pack up and go to it, right where it is. He wants to fill a passport and see unique vistas all over the globe, learn about cultures there, and make meaningful memories attached to every picture he takes.

Sunny (Gastertale Sans):

He likes stories, not the kind that come from a book, necessarily, but the stories people tell. The subject doesn’t matter to him much—folklore, local legends, big fish tales, ‘you’ll never believe what happened to me last week’s and more—it’s really the telling of it that he likes, how people describe what happened for an audience of their friends, family, or even strangers. He especially likes hearing the same story from different people to see how they tell it differently with their own perspectives or details that were unique to the version they heard. He’s always got a metaphorical ear open for a good yarn and a great memory for the stories people tell him, to the point that he can dispense them on cue whenever conversation’s slow, but he’s got plenty of his own experiences to make tales out of too, and the charisma and flair to make the telling entertaining.

This is a skill that comes majorly in handy for one of his other favorite hobbies, tabletop gaming. Whether he’s setting the scene for a D&D party he’s DMing for or keeping conversation going while he shuffles a deck for rummy, he loves having a table of people together to talk and play a game (or two, or three) with. It’s hard to get schedules to line up so he almost always has a few different game nights going on at any given time, in rotation depending on who can make what—and luckily, he’s a social butterfly so if someone cancels, getting substitutes to hang and make friends with over a game of something or other is never too difficult for him. He’ll go anywhere but his preference is hosting himself, he just loves having people over and showing them a good old fashioned time!

And speaking of old fashioned, his fashion is a little bit that as well. He’s a tad all over the place with it but nonetheless very interested in vintage and retro styles—the bold neon windbreakers of the 80s, the dated digital graphic tees of the 90s, the vinyl of the 00s, and even the holographics of the 10s. He tends to get a little confused about what was popular when and maybe that’s why he meshes it all together, but regardless, he loves his very eclectic wardrobe and adding to it. He makes a lot of trips to thrift stores and checks often on resale sites and gets very excited whenever he stumbles across a good find. Jackets are his favorite and he definitely has too many, but they spark joy and he’s probably not going to get rid of any or quit shopping around for more of the old school stuff anytime soon.

Aster (Gastertale Papyrus):

He likes scrapbooking! Maybe not too surprising, but as someone who mysteriously came into existence one day with no memory of his past, he doesn’t like the idea of losing memories—at least, not any more memories than he’s already apparently lost. He likes keeping records of things he does and that happen in his life as a tangible proof of his existence in and impact on the world. He stores things digitally as well but having the physical album feels weightier and more permanent, so he takes great care assembling and arranging everything in it. He keeps photos of outings with friends and coworkers, fliers from lectures he attends, even receipts from restaurants and movie ticket stubs. It’s all extremely well organized and annotated to the point that it almost reads like a scientific article, but he has fun with the cutting and pasting and aesthetic arrangement of it all—a neat and tidy accounting of (as much of) his life (as he can remember).

It's probably no coincidence that his scrapbook resembles a science journal, though, because he reads a lot of them. He also attends lectures and conferences when available and open to the public because, though he doesn’t have a career in any field of science, he’s still quite passionate about it! He loves learning about new advancements and discoveries, and when he comes across something he doesn’t know or only knows a bit about, he tends to do his own research into relevant readings on the topic until he’s better informed. He loathes misinformation and willful ignorance though, and as a result he’s ended up in a few small scale social media wars where he arrives on a post with thorough corrections, arguments, and sources cited and continues to present the accurate information until he’s respectfully acknowledged or blocked. It’s…usually the latter, but he doesn’t mind a good argument and ad hominem attacks slide right off him, so…as long as he’s having fun, what does it matter?

However…for all his love of truth and fact, he is also—regrettably—truly, madly, deeply compelled by the paranormal. If asked directly, he would say that of course he doesn’t believe in (non-monster) ghosts or aliens or the supernatural, there’s no evidence of such things! At least…nothing credible. He’s read the first and second-hand accounts, reviewed the blurry inconclusive photos, entertained hypotheticals of what could have really caused the sighting or scenario in question, accounting for variables and probing with his own questions to determine more information. He may occasionally be inclined to physically visit some ‘hot spots’ or sites of infamy, just to get a better understanding of the location and potential factors in what’s been claimed… But! Obviously, he’s a devil’s advocate in this only, as intriguing as some of these concepts are, that’s all they are—concepts. The fact that he spends so much time and thought on such things does not at all validate them and it simply means that he is a man of both integrity and science, the real kind!

Spectr (Transcendtale Sans):

He likes swimming! Er…well…maybe that’s not the right word for it. It’s not diving either, really, it’s… He likes going to bodies of water, walking in, and staying under for awhile, there, that’s a more accurate description of it. He’s waterproof and he doesn’t need to breathe, so ducking under the surface for a good few hours is not only possible, but a great way to get near-total peace and quiet for however long he wants it. He wasn’t much of a swimmer when he had an organic body, so it’s a bit of a novelty as well—seeing the way things look underwater, the way sounds change, the way animals swim around him in their natural habitat. He finds being in the water to be very relaxing and pleasant, almost meditative in nature, and whenever he’s feeling especially tense or in need of some space to think (or not think), he’ll head to the nearest body of water and go right in. It would be better if he actually took his clothes off before he did this, but he usually doesn’t and has weirded many clothes with lake or sea water.

He’s also into urban exploration. Not that he specifically calls it that, but he’s a wanderer and he likes to keep a low profile so sometimes, when he happens to be in the heart of a big city and there’s nowhere anonymous enough for him to blend in, he disappears into closed, abandoned, or condemned buildings. He likes the quiet of places like these and the reduced likelihood of running into anyone trying to interact with him because nobody else is supposed to be there. Obviously sometimes people are there anyway, but usually it’s people who mind their own business or actively avoid him, which he’s completely fine with. He does also enjoy having a look around when there’s time and he can, getting to see the remnants of the people who used the building before, what they left behind and imagining what it would be like if it were actively in use. A lot of the places he gets into have nice views of the city outside, too, and it’s pleasant to find a ledge or some rebar to sit on and enjoy it.

Jewelry making came out of his preferred hangout spots, as well. There’s a lot of junk lying around in abandoned or in-construction buildings—chain-link fences, washers, nuts and bolts—and when one is sitting around in an empty spot in the early morning, waiting for the city to wake up so he can slip through the masses undetected again, one gets to fiddling with nearby things in reach. He’s no master jeweler, his creations tend to be very simple, metal bent and twisted by hand in loops and curls, maybe a shape if he’s feeling ambitious, but he likes making them regardless. Sometimes he’ll keep an eye out for interesting stones and hold onto them to incorporate them into one of his pieces, or pick up a bit of nicer wire to work with if he’s going to be passing through a more rural area where it won’t be so easily available. He never keeps the rings and necklaces and bracelets he makes, though, just leaving them on tables and benches and railings for someone else to find later. It’s the making that’s the important part to him, he doesn’t need the thing.

PapAIrus (Transcendtale Papyrus):

He’s a proud and passionate DJ for partiers everywhere! He kind of fell into it, or at least into the idea of it when figuring out how to approach humanity and be a part of it, and he learned that it’s quite common for musical artists to have gimmicks that hide their real faces and identities. It seemed like it’d be easy to blend in, in a crowd like that, and when he found out about vocaloids and holographic performers he was all but sold on giving it a go. It didn’t take him long to learn how to mix songs and with a theoretically infinite track list to draw on, he’s a natural talent at playing the crowd and keeping the energy in a room high. He loves DJing for nightclubs and raves the most, but he’s starting to gain a bit of fame and notoriety for both his talent and his very advanced ‘avatar’ and might end up dropping some of his own music and playing to larger venues sooner than later.

In his spare time, of which he has a lot, he likes the challenge of hunting down lost media. He has full access to the internet as well as several archives he probably should not have access to, but it’s very hard to keep him out of anywhere he wants to be—luckily, he chooses to use his nigh unfathomable power for good, digging around here, there, and everywhere for things deleted, destroyed, or locked off from the public. It’s like a treasure hunt, following leads and connecting clues until he finds the impossible thing he’s looking for…or doesn’t. Sometimes things that are gone really are gone, but other times it’s just that no one else had the spare time and resources to try and excavate a mention of a grandmother’s VHS copy of an obscure, out of circulation film on a deleted forum post from ten years ago, track down the user, ask after the tape and offer to purchase it to convert to a digital format…and if that doesn’t pan out, the search begins anew! How exciting!

His do-gooding doesn’t end at tracking and restoring old tapes, though, and he likes to spare some time for bigger acts of justice now and again. He’s a part-time hacktivist—he takes note of ongoing crime and corruption in human society and when he can, he shines a light on it. Leaking emails, posting blacklisted videos, releasing incriminating financial records, he has little respect for the privacy of crooked CEOs and corrupt politicians and feels it’s only right that their customers and constituents know these things about the people they’re supporting. His intervention tends to lead to a lot of resignations and restructuring and legal action being pursued, so he tries not to overstep too much with the business of humans, especially not for any old small-fry in the pond…but the big fish, the guys in the news with allegations that don’t stick because of money lack of evidence… Well, he doesn’t mind digging up that evidence, if the proper authorities really lack the time for it—you’re welcome!

Xanth (Ascendswap Sans):

He’s very into spiritualism and all things mystical. His brush with the cosmically unknowable really expanded his perception and sense of things around him and he’s freshly fascinated by the things in this world beyond mortal comprehension, things he’s only glimpsed and felt more than he clearly understood. He loves reading or hearing about other peoples’ spiritual experiences—near-deaths, out-of-body’s, energies sensed and presences felt and many more—being let into the perspective of others who have been through things not easily explained and maybe getting a chance to share his own oddities in the process. He collects a lot of paraphernalia from the people and places he goes for these things, chakra bracelets, dreamcatchers, crystal pyramids and the like. He freely admits some of his items have stronger energies than others and theorizes that belief and intention in the creation of the object has an effect, you see the aura of this one feels—you get the idea, he could talk about it for hours.

He's also a very big fan of riddles! He knew a few before but has really gotten into them since, diving down the rabbit hole of riddles and tricky word puzzles. He finds the construction of them incredibly interesting, how specific words are chosen and phrases are structured to talk around the answer, carefully ringing around it to imply only and make the listener deduce the truth around its absence—just like how black holes are discovered by observing the warping of space around it! He has lots of riddle books and knows the answers to most of the basic ones out there, and he’s always open to hearing new ones, as well as coming up with some of his own from time to time. He takes his riddling quite seriously and will never look up the answer or allow anyone to tell him before he guesses—he wants to reason it out for himself, even if it takes him days to do it. If you manage to stump him, expect a call later on with the solution and exuberant praise for the gift you gave him!

A far more pedestrian and down-to-earth hobby of his, however, is pottery. Riddling and talking about the cosmos is all well and good, but it’s difficult actually meeting people to do those with—they don’t really have meet-ups for those sorts of things. But! They do have pottery classes, all over the place, welcoming beginners who are generally also open to making friends there, and he decided to go where the people were. It’s probably not something he would’ve been as happy doing before…Everything, reining in the urge to be great at it first try and do clean, neat work to impress people… but he doesn’t really think that way anymore, so he likes it! It's messy and mistakes are easy to make, both on the wheel and in the kiln, but that’s life and he’s learning same as everyone else. He gets to socialize, he gets to make stuff out of clay, and he gets so very many pots and mugs and bowls to give his friends and loved ones—a win-win-win!

Piper (Ascendswap Papyrus):

He never used to put much effort into his wardrobe. He was anxious and introverted and never wanted to stand out too much, so he always aimed for under, rather than over-dressed. …But things changed. He’s more confident, he wants to stand out, he wants to look his best and dress himself in all the nice clothes he always thought he wasn’t cool enough to wear—so now, he does. He keeps his eye-socket on modern fashion trends, subscribing to magazines and tuning in to designer runways so he always knows what’s in and can coordinate his wardrobe accordingly. He's not necessarily a brand snob, he doesn’t subscribe to the idea that clothes (and accessories) need a label to look good, but at the same time, he won’t compromise on quality and sometimes that means paying for it. Still, he has a lot of fun keeping in style and taking more care in how he presents himself, and it turns into something of a confidence feedback loop—feeling good because he looks good because he feels good because…

With his newfound confidence, he’s also gotten into the habit of singing out loud. He hums tunes every now and again, surely everyone does, but now he sings, sometimes softly and sometimes belting out lyrics at full volume to whatever song floats through his head. What can he say? He’s started to like the sound of his own voice and it makes him feel good to hear how he sounds, and to feel how freely and beautifully the notes come out. Maybe it’s a little prideful but he doesn’t see the harm in making music and feeling good about it, so he sings when he’s occupied, when he’s idle, when he’s asked to—no special occasion necessary save for the joy of sound.

Of course, this also gives him something in common with some of his favorite creatures on the planet: birds. He likes animals and tends to be great with them—especially if he happens to use his ‘trick’—but he’s particularly fond of the feathered ones and the pretty sounds they make. He started learning how to mimic bird-calls (now that he’s not too self-conscious to feel stupid about it) and found he has a talent for it, getting all kinds of flighted friends to stop by and sing back when he chirps. He knows a lot of calls and can identify most local bird species by sound and sight, and it’s a favored party trick of his to push a little intent into his whistles and get wild birds to land on his finger like they were trained. He’s actually looking to break into falconry too, so he can keep and train a raptor someday, but there’s a lot of training and regulation involved in that sport and he’s not in any special kind of hurry. Plenty of birds to watch and sing to and play with in the meantime!

Carmine (Underfell Fruition Sans):

He’s been on his own for quite awhile. Granted, most of that time was unconscious in a semi-lucid dream-state, but that still left him pretty bereft of any meaningful company for a long damn time. He’s a social guy, he’s gotta make some connections with people at some point or it’s just gonna feed into his main character syndrome, so he starts getting involved in competitive team activities pretty much as soon as possible. At first it’s gaming—multiplayers, with mic enabled of course—when he’s still building his physical health back up, but once he’s clear for it he’s joining up with just about every team sport he can find. The Surface has plenty of options for him to choose from. Paintball? Definitely, get ready to meet your maker. Go-karting? Can’t believe it took so long to ask, let’s go. Axe-throwing? Oh hell yes, you know it! He’s competitive but a mostly good loser and hardly sore winner, so whatever the game he’s all in, just happy to be able to play.

When he’s solo and not actively burning energy, he…probably should be. He overproduces magic like a sonuvabitch, and if he’s not using it, that’s a problem—for him and everyone and everything around him. If he’s lacking something to do with his energy, and no other ways to expend it, the easiest thing to do is make a bunch of bullets. This, naturally, solves one problem while creating another and out of the abundance of bones lying around the place came the elegant solution of building with them. He uses his bone bullets like some (frat house) people use beer cans, stacking them together to make thrones chairs, tables, and towers. Sometimes he’ll jenga these structures, knock ‘em down to reuse the bullets for something else, but sometimes, if he's managed to stack up something particularly impressive, he’ll put in the extra effort to make them structurally sound and keep them as-is.

For all that he’s good at building things up, he takes just as much pleasure in taking them apart. He likes working with his hands, always has, opening something up and poking around inside to figure out what goes on in there. Unfortunately, and he’ll never admit as much out loud, he is…not very strong, physically—the big stuff, heavy duty machinery that takes a decent amount of elbow grease to get into is…a little bit beyond his ability, at least comfortably. By default, that leaves him with the little stuff to tinker with, clocks and watches, TVs and blenders, anything he can get his hands on and pop open without too much work. Clockwork mechanisms are his favorites to work with, the very tangible cause and effect of motion inside, but he’s no slouch with a soldering iron and more fiddly electronics are hardly any trouble. He likes fixing stuff that’s broken but it doesn’t have to be for him to want to disassemble something in working order, just for a quick look. Don’t worry, he knows what he’s doing, he’ll put it right back—possibly in better condition than when he found it!

Tank (Underfell Fruition Papyrus):

He has difficulty finding hobbies for himself, at first. Doing things he enjoys—much less expressing that he enjoyed them—was both forbidden and dangerous, so he’s in unexplored territory without explicit orders to do or not do something. Undyne gets him started with puzzles after noticing that he seemed to like solving them for her on patrols. A jigsaw seems as good as anything to start with, right? Well… yes, very much so, because he loves the medium instantly. One obvious solution (to assemble the pieces into a picture), no time constraint, and no way to do it incorrectly? It’s perfect! He graduates quickly from small, simple jigsaws to large, complex ones and loves being able to sit down with a few thousand pieces and slowly, steadily arrange them the way they’re supposed to be. He was given a massive, single-color monolith of a jigsaw once, as a joke…which completely didn’t land because it only took him a bit longer than usual and he loved it just as much. Go figure.

His brother gave him another hobby, upon remembering that he used to (as a toddler) like scribbling on paper, and gifted him a color-by-number book. It was a little juvenile, involved considerably less problem-solving than puzzles, but that’s really not a bad thing for him, giving him a task to do by rote that appeals to his creative side rather than the militaristic orders he got until that point. Eventually, as he gains independence and starts to feel more comfortable making choices of his own, he ditches the ‘by-number’ part but sticks with coloring, using watercolors and colored pencils to fill in pages of designs with whatever he wants. He finds it very relaxing and satisfying to do, and with encouragement even frames some of the pieces he’s proudest of. Friends and family may expect to receive them as gifts, especially if they’ve complimented one in particular—it’ll be theirs in short order without a second thought.

His most consuming hobby, however, is one he came to on his own: the care and keeping of fish. His first was a betta, a bright red fighting fish, drooping and still in a tiny little cup on a shelf—an impulse purchase he’d be hard-pressed to explain, especially with no animal experience whatsoever, much less specifically fish. But, he did it, and after that it was his responsibility to care for it, so he put in the research to determine its needs, the size of the tank, the pH balance of the water, the food and feeding schedule, environmental enrichment… It was a lot of work getting everything together but the reward in seeing the sad lifeless betta turn bright and active, thriving in the home he’d built for it, that was an addictive feeling. It wasn’t long until he was setting up more tanks, and buying lots more aquatic critters—tetras, cichlids, snails, guppies—to fill them with. He’s an extremely diligent and dedicated fish-dad and likes to sit and watch them swim the way some people watch TV.

Vi (Swapfell Fruition Sans):

He knows his way around a needle and thread. He learned to sew out of pride necessity, learning to mend ripped and worn garments rather than having to beg for new on his or his brother’s behalf. It started as the lesser of two evils for him, but eventually he grew to enjoy it—work, of course, to have to close holes and hem and take in this and that, but work that he was generally left alone to do and not bothered for other things. It’s still that, but now that he doesn’t have a panopticon of a mocking prick judging his every action, he’s branching out into a bit more personal flair. He tried felting, with…poor results…but embroidery and needlepoint is working out considerably better. He’s still not especially creative so he prefers to work off patterns rather than freehand anything, and most of the things he stitches aren’t exactly to his own personal style, so a lot of his work gets donated but some things end up on the wall, others as patches for bags and jackets… It’s something to do.

…Making booze is also something to do. He didn’t exactly see it coming, something he kind of fell into. Per his brother’s preference, they’ve made their home in a wooded, mountainous area, and per his own preference, it’s secluded, a ways away from the town proper. Grocery runs every time there’s no more alcohol in the house (because somebody had company over and left a thimble in the bottle without telling anyone) is irritating, especially if he’s just getting home late and nowhere nearby is even open. A lot of locals get around the problem by simply brewing, fermenting, or distilling their own, and after looking into the process, he decided it was more than doable. He’s not much of a beer-drinker and never bothered with that, but he makes some damn good fruit wines if he says so himself, and a moonshine that’ll knock you on your ass if you’re not careful. His little operation is technically illegal—his favorite kind of illegal—but it's all for private use and he keeps to himself when he’s in town so he’s flying pretty low beneath the radar.

He is out of town a lot, mostly for work purposes, and passing through unfamiliar towns on the regular exposed him to quite a lot of postcard kiosks. He would look at them, think about his semi-estranged brother back home and how weird it would be, with their relationship being what it is, to call or text just to say ‘hey’ and… Well, eventually he bought one, scribbled a curt (coded) message on it, and sent it home before he could think better of it. Neither of them ever said anything about it, but he found it later on his desk when he got home with a scrawled reply back to what he’d written, and it kind of just spiraled into a thing from there. Anytime he goes somewhere, he finds a place to pick up a postcard to mail back, and when he gets home he tucks it (and the inevitable addition onto it) away in a binder for safekeeping. He takes a lot of care in the choosing and preservation of these cards and has a sizeable, growing collection.

Hunter (Swapfell Fruition Papyrus):

He’s a runner. There’s almost nothing he likes more than getting outside and taking off, jogging full speed to nowhere in particular until he’s out of breath and covered in sweat. He was cooped up for a long time in between specific missions and keeping pace on a treadmill just can’t compare to the free feeling he gets when he’s completely off-leash and can just go, as fast and as far as he wants to. Sometimes he’ll spice up his runs with a bit of parkour, clearing obstacles or scaling trees to take the branches for awhile, but he’s happy as long as he gets to let loose—sky above him, earth below, and nothing to call him back but his own limitations when he’s totally exhausted or he decides to be done.

For similar reasons, he’s interested in foraging. He likes nature and the outdoors, prefers it to anything indoors bar none, and the longer he can spend out in it without having to make his way back to civilization, the better. So, he started learning about the plants he sees—what’s edible, what’s not, what’s poisonous versus medicinal and so on. A lot of the info about it is geared towards humans rather than bioengineered skeletons so there’s still a learning curve, and a lot of things he's taken it upon himself to test out. He was built with a high metabolism and some natural poison resistance so he’s too cocky to be stopped from doing it, really, no matter how many times he’s called a reckless idiot for touching and ingesting possibly harmful substances. He's made a lot of interesting discoveries with regards to the local flora and only hardly gotten sick about it, so he counts it as a win.

He keeps track of said discoveries in his journal, which he takes out with him whenever he leaves the house for a nature walk (or run). He likes having it handy to note down things he does throughout the day, places he goes, things he sees… He never really got into art, not the way he could’ve, if things had been different, but he can scratch out some decent sketches to fill in the margins of his journal—the path down to the stream he found, the deer that only shed one antler, that berry that definitely did not agree with his metaphorical stomach, do not try again… His memory isn’t bad, exactly, but his mind and feet are both prone to wandering so it’s nice to have a log of his activities to look over later and put together things he missed at the time, or be reminded of stuff he wants to revisit. Most of his journaling is done halfway up a tree, sprawled along a branch with half an eye-socket on the view from up high.

Kohl (Descendtale Sans):

He wasn’t especially interested in plants or flowers, at least not until one started altering him—and the rest of monsterkind—in mind and body. That’s when he got interested and started studying. First the echo flower, its strange properties nearest and dearest to him, but gradually branching out to golden flowers, forevergreens, water sausages, any magical plant he can get his hands on to examine. Non-magical plants are equally fascinating, especially in their potential effects on humans—he knows probably an unsettling amount of flowers and greenery that are toxic to humans, the symptoms caused by contact or ingestion and how long it takes them to appear. Thankfully, he’s not much for the care and keeping of plants as keeping things alive seems like an awful lot of work. Still, he finds them interesting and has lots of botany and anthology books lying around, with leaves and petals dried and pressed between their pages. Did you know that the echo flower’s bioluminescence remains for up to three years after the bloom’s been clipped? Fascinating stuff.

Less of a passion but still at least an idle hobby, he can play a bit of piano. He’s self-taught—plunking out keys on the piano in Waterfall while passing through to entertain himself (and a little bit to annoy Undyne)—but though he can’t read sheet music or play any full length songs, he can tickle out a short tune by sound once he’s heard it at least once. He’s got a good ear for notes, despite not having any actual ears. It may actually be some kind of perfect pitch thing going on in his head but he should not be informed of this ever because he will hang on the word ‘perfect’ and be utterly insufferable about it. Mostly, he just uses this to play a few random notes whenever he comes across a keyed instrument, or to abruptly switch to an impromptu recreation of iconic horror scores to catch people by surprise. The theme from Halloween or the tubular bells from The Exorcist are favorites, but he’s unpredictable enough to learn more if you turn your back on him too long.

What he probably spends the most time on, however, is quilting. Perhaps a bit surprising, with his…everything else about him, but he’s a skeleton who values his creature comforts quite a bit, many of which have been made considerably more difficult for him to enjoy due to the ways his body has changed. In this particular case, it’s his reduced physical sensation making it nearly impossible to feel warm. He’s never cold anymore, not really, but he’s never warm either and he takes that quite personally, almost offended by the uselessness of thin clothing and scraps that dare to call themselves blankets. If there are no blankets thick enough and heavy enough get him warm, he’ll just have to make them himself…and so that’s what he does. Any passingly usable cloth in his possession tends to end up part of a quilt, with little care for patterning or overall design—his only priority is thick and heavy and warm, and if he doesn’t feel like he’s in a panini press by the time he’s finished, then it’s back to the drawing board.

Bram (Descendtale Papyrus):

He maybe went a little bit nuts for awhile there after the human first left. Some might argue that he’s still a little bit nuts but he would agree he was pretty embarrassingly desperate in the first few years after. They were gone and they weren’t answering their phone and for everything they’d done, they had been his friend so…he was worried! But of course, monsters were trapped, with hope of leaving anytime soon soundly dashed, so he couldn’t just go look for them. He wanted to reach them, or just someone on the Surface who could relay a message. That’s how he started experimenting with radio, out of a misguided and impossible attempt to communicate out of the Underground with someone up there. He never reached anyone from down there, of course, but he found some comfort in trying—and eventually, enjoyment too! He likes fiddling with the equipment to tune into different frequencies, and the sound of empty static is soothing to him. It’s a lot more fun now that he’s aboveground and can actually hear other people, and he hopes to get his license to transmit himself soon!

Before the Surface, though, things were a little lonelier for him. Colder, darker. Too dark entirely—of course a dark environment was necessary to promote the growth of their staple crop and the artificial day-cycles were only making monsters waste more time sleeping than they already were, he understood the need for the dark…but surely, it didn’t have to be so complete? How was anyone to know that he was at home and available to host company if there were no warm, inviting lights in the window? Candles seemed the perfect solution, natural light from flickering fires that wasn’t too harsh, still a bit dim but plenty to see by! He started just collecting them so he would always have them on hand if needed, but eventually started making them himself with wax on the stove. Scent or color don’t matter much to him, but he really likes being able to customize the size and shape to his needs. And his needs…aren’t so much anymore, now that there’s regular sunlight, but candles are still great for when there isn’t, and when electric lights are little too intense. It never hurts to have more candles around, for emergencies!

He's also exploring a new hobby up on the surface, inspired by his and his brother’s new careers—bone collecting! Now, it’s not what you’re thinking, he’s not after human bones. Those are still very much in use by the deceased, and he's sure surviving loved ones would be very cross if tried to just take them! But his job was how he learned that humans and other organic, non-magical creatures all contain skeletons of their own and when they die everything but the bone rots away. He thinks it’s very cool and obviously humans are off the table to inspect more closely, but animals don’t mind. He takes note of any dead creatures he happens to find—mostly birds and squirrels—and after allowing the other local wildlife to have first pick at it, he collects the remains to take home. He isn’t overly fond of the smells and textures of rot and asked for his brother to help with the de-fleshing and degreasing with the first few things he brought back, but he's got a handle on it now and loves to artfully display his cleaned finds all around the house. Skulls are his favorite, but he has some lovely wishbones and plenty of vertebrae that he’s equally proud of showing off!

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dreamaze · 4 months

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The Dreaming / Find You / Destroyer / All In (MV ver.) / Nobody Else / Wildfire / Rain (MIC in the SCENE live) / Mercy (No Limit Tour in Seoul) / Thriller / 춤사위 (Crescendo) / Lost in the Dream / AND / You Can't Hold My Heart (PLAY! solo live) / Thriller / BEASTMODE / Fantasia / LOVE / Rodeo / LONE RANGER

⟡ To be honest, I am not sure what I can say about Kihyun's artistry that isn't abundantly clear from his studio and live performances. If I say that I believe he is one of the most competent vocalists in the genre, it may sound like an understatement — although it is not something I say lightly, and I mean it with my whole heart. His level of musicality is built on a strong foundation of fundamental skills and would not be possible without it. Minhyuk once described him as a stone that does not shake in the wind, and to me this also embodies his steadiness and reliability in the recording booth and on the stage no matter how challenging the primary and secondary (e.g., ad lib) lines are asked of him and no matter how deep they are into a rigorous concert set. Kihyun excels at singing high and singing loud (genuinely), but he also has a wide and well-supported range, and I appreciate the opportunities to enjoy his lower/mid end and lighter moments just as much as his robust belting. I understand why Hyungwon loves composing for his voice (who wouldn't?). Kihyun has been a strong singer since the beginning of his career and makes many of his parts seem effortless, yet most of all I respect his commitment to growth despite how much effort it takes to improve when you are already among the best of the best. He was honest with himself about when he felt his abilities plateauing, and he sought a way forward by resuming vocal lessons. We are fortunate as fans that he is also open enough to share that with us. I didn't think I could love and respect him more, but for that personal strength and dedication to his craft, I did. I do.

Postscript, to listeners. This was a challenging set of excerpts to compile (and even more to order) because Kihyun has many, many parts throughout the MX discography that showcase his abilities. As with my other compilations, it strives to capture a breadth of his output while also being very much biased toward my own favorites (Crescendo/Lost in the Dream/AND occur successively because they carry the most gut-punching, emotional weight to me). But I expect to revisit these in the future and would love to hear about your favorite moments in the tags. ♡

Postscript, to Kihyun. I miss you. Kpop is not the same without you. At the same time, I am so proud and happy for you that you are continuing to make music, as it is such a core part of your being and (if it is not presumptuous to say) brings you fulfillment and joy. I am absolutely tickled that you play the trombone. I hope you are having the best possible time playing in the band (and that your low brass section is delightfully weird, as tends to be the case — with lots of love to low brass players, from a percussionist who overheard all your shenanigans), and I can't wait to see how this musical experience contributes to your transformation and growth as an artist.

Other compilations: Minhyuk | Jooheon

#kihyun #monsta x #monstaxedits #mx vocal compilation #music box #wings.audio #wings.edits #tuseral #userkyutie #megtag #wabisarah #audio #made with so so so much love for my beloved tenor of tenors

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not-goldy · 6 months

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Not your followers thinking Jimin doesn't need to be big star also. Are they even sane ??? EACH AND EVERY MEMBER IN BTS IS AMBITIOUS AF, ESPECIALLY JM. But unlike JK, JM is not airhead to keep on saying he want to be next big thing, want to be seen as this het fuckboy who only sings about sex to be seen as mature, want to be one and only kpop star to do so bla bla bla all while not lifting a pen to write songs, won't have streams and sales without a 938397328 versions and all that mediaplay from company. Or atleast the bare minimum hold a mic properly and talk/sing without fidgeting and embarrassing yourself. How you gonna dominate western market without even communication skills lmao.. those times when he used to stand in shade of RM is gone lol. Jk's big project DREAMERS debuted under bubbling 100 while JM gave that YG company their 1st hot 100 entry by a collab. So saying JK is this and that while we are not seeing results organically is dumb af. Golden maknae because he sing and dance some white man's songs which company already bought success for ? Oh there's 100 other artists who sings and dance way better than him. He can't hold 5 mins on stage if he's doing a dance battle with Jimin lol.

What company doing to members IS INJUSTICE AF.. especially Jimin who fucking proved he can also be the 'next big thing'. But they conveniently sweep him under rug so his shine won't affect their industry plant launch. Or why can't they support him too ???? Is it that difficult ? JK didn't do a shit and got everything. I BET HE WONT DEBUT NO.1 FOR SEVEN NOR GET ALL THOSE RECORDS IF IT WAS NOT THE PUSH FROM SCOOTS. BE FR. Go and check his BB points to see how payola impacted his chart. It would've been a -48 like 3D on second week too. While what we asked for Jimin was the deserved support in 2nd week for a song which fucking went no.1 with fans support and artist impact alone. It's NOT secretly wishing JK's treatment for JM, but asking what he fucking deserves. Literally any company will give the extra promos for his in 2nd week but not hybe who's on a mission to sell themselves to somehow establish JK in west 😬

And don't say JM will chose me over JK. Did I said I want JM to chose me ????? THIS IS HIS CAREER HE WORKED HARD FOR NOT A FUCKASS RELATIONSHIP. Even if you look at their relationship also, it's the same lol. JM keep on giving and giving him his everything while JK sit back and enjoy Jimin while not even bothering to post a simple bday wish or go and meet him even after him begging a 100 times.

YOU CANT CALL OTHERS JK ANTIS BECAUSE THEY SEE TRUTH AND SAY IT OUT LOUD. Ask him to play fairly like a man 1st, then we will see who's the real winner here ?

DAMN IF PSYCHO WAS A PERSON

IF HE'S WINNING DOES IT MATTER HOW HE'S WINNING???? DO YOU UNDERSTAND HOW THINGS WORK IN THIS WORLD OR ARE YOU ONE OF THE DELULUS WHO THINK HARD WORK IS EVERYTHING?

You are crazy if you think money, connections, power, politics, privilege and luck play zero role in making a star. Please find other 2 yr olds and hug them, don't bring this shit to the adult table its embarrassing.

I'm embarrassed for you.

Scoot---- okay, MA'AM A PUSH IS A PUSH WHETHER IT'S FROM SCOOBY-DOO OR THE DEVIL

TAKE YOUR WEIRD MORAL COMPASS AND CHICKEN CHANGE ETHICS TO SOMEONE WHO ACTUALLY GIVES A FUCK

READ MY LIPS

Go weep somewhere else.

You gonna come on the internet and bitch complain bout how the entertainment industry is not fair WELL BOO HOO CRY ME A RIVER YOU LOSER.

And make sure you come with a costume next time so we know the circus from whence you came Missy Clowniot.

You give PJMs a bad name you ASS HAT

You sound like those whiny kpop losers who complain BTS has privilege and connections and power and their lame loser favs don't- as if power and connections are things you throw on people's laps.

If Hard work is all it takes BTS WOULD HAVE SEVERAL GRAMMYS YOU DUMBASS.

And the fact you out here farting yourself in the name of Park Jimin irks me so much. Here's the truth you want so bad, YOU SUCK. And you making Jimin out to be pathetic too damn.

Now I know it's not Park Jimin you out here acting like he's inferior and a victim and a loser who needs the bar to be lowered and for people to choose him love him play fair and nice before he can win. Child THE AUDACITY.

YOU DON'T THINK DO YOU??

I know he's not the one you fucking dragging through the mud indirectly with these brain dead waste of breathe rants.

PLEASE STOP JIMIN DON'T NEED A FAN LIKE YOU.

YOU ARE EMBARRASSING HIM.

The nerve and audacity for you to even compare him to- WELL ANY ONE I'M ABOUT TO PUT HANDS ON YOU FOR THAT.

I WILL SMACK THE SHIT OUT OF YOU FOR THIS FOR REAL.

It's the lack of intelligence and you not taking a hint and you not knowing when to stop- FUCK IT LET'S GET NASTY THEN.

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN YOU AND I IS I CAN'T PUT ANY ONE ON A PEDESTAL ABOVE PARK JIMIN ENOUGH TO VICTIMIZE HIM THE WAY YOU DO.

HE'S IN A LEAGUE OF HIS OWN PLEASE LEAVE HIM ALONE HE IS NOT COMPETING WITH NO FUCKING ONE

HAVE SOME FUCKING CLASS AND TACT

OR GO OVER THERE WHERE THE OTHER PJMs OF YOUR CALIBRE ARE

IF JIMIN SEES THIS HE WILL THROW UP AND I'M GONNA WIPE HIS VOMIT WITH YOUR FACE YOU RAGGEDY ASS

NEVER EVER EVOOOOORRR COMPARE PARK BIG DADDY JIMIN TO ANY ONE LET ALONE HIS SWEET HEART

NO ONE IS ON HIS LEVEL AND NO ONE WILL EVER BE.

ALSO JIKOOK ARE A FUCKING POWER COUPLE THE FUCK!

IF JUNGKOOK'S POWER MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE

GO SIT OVER THERE

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mrs-monaghan · 9 months

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Hey Shaz,

it's been a shit day so far. Do you have anything jikook-related to cheer me up? Much appreciated 💜

I'm so sorry you had a shitty day love. Something about Jikook in NYC gave me heavy Bon Voyage Malta vibes so let's talk about 2 or 3 moments. But first, have u ever heard about the Jimin pregnant allegations?

I mean its the bloody wind's fault but still, it definitely gave Mpreg creators original content to work with.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Okay I'll be serious. 😂😂😂

There is this really small blink and you'll miss it moment that I never see anywhere. I loved this part so much.

So basically JK sings mic drop adorably and when he looks around he finds Jimin looking at him and smiling. They then quietly stare at eo for a while 🥺🥺🥺

I rewinded it so many times it was so cute. It's the little things guys. It's the little things. Like when JK holds Jimin's hand in pretense of holding the rail thingy.

Guys... Jikook are so obvious its insane that the fandom as a whole doesn't just support them 🤦🏽‍♀️

Anygays, I wanna bring up Jikook feeding eo here. JK is the one who offers. A rare moment of him using honorifics 🤭

So JK looks at Jimin's mouth, but it's the way Jimin looks at JK's eyes.

It's something he always does; looks str8 up at JK when his boyfriend is feeding him. Kinda gets my explicit senses tingling. Remember this?

That's JK feeding him a sausage in one of the many dynamite behind the scenes. (Thanks @chicknbunny13 as always 😘)

Tell me that doesn't give u an accurate picture of how Jimin looks like when he's shouting in JK's briefcase. 👀

It kind of reminds me of this

Whoever made that fuck you. Seriously 😫😩😩

Oh God. We are getting sidetracked here. Get it together guys. What's wrong with you? 🤦🏽‍♀️🤦🏽‍♀️

Moving on swiftly, I also like this part where JK says he wants to dye his hair and Jhope asks him

Of course Jimin already knows;

He knows everything about JK. Everything. He's the only one at the table who seems to be aware of this whole JK dying his hair thing before hand. 🥰

Can we take a second to talk about this here?

He was annoyed that they started getting filmed immediately. Even though he knows that's why they're there; to create BV content. And this is the guy they like to heavily accuse of feeding fans?? Okay, sure.

Anyway I love BV Malta for Jikook. We like to say they were on their honeymoon but it really did look like it. Even Suga noticed

Jikook really had a great time in Malta. Thats why I wanna know how they looked like off camera seeing as on camera they looked like honeymooners. 🥺🥺🥺 damn those lucky Malta Armys gatekeeping images and footage 😭😭😭😭

Bonus: a Bon Voyage 3 compilation

youtube

Hope this short trip down memory lane cheers u up my lovely 😍😍

#ask shaz #bts ask #jikook #kookmin #minkook #jimin and jungkook #bts #jimin #jungkook #park jimin #jeon jungkook #jikook analysis #bon voyage jikook #jikook sexy times

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juliacoller · 9 months

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Swiss can't keep his hands to himself

I had had HAD to write about this after talking to @scrunklybunny about this moment between Swiss and Sodo

Also, this is kinda inspired by @xximperioxx, kinda just expanding on the idea and putting my own twist on it!

Swiss x Ghoulette!Reader

Warnings: Public humiliation (a bit), groping (consensual), making out, mirror sex, PIV sex, oral (f! recieving), dirty talk, mentions of poly!ghouls, gagging, slight breeding kink (only if you squint)

Word Count: 1,951 words

Swiss never can seem to keep his hands to himself, always petting and grabbing at someone. No matter where he is, he is desperate to be close to someone, and the stage is not an exception to this. Why do you think he's bound to his platform?

From his platform, Swiss gets to observe everything that happens on the stage before him, including when you and Aurora dance friskily on each other. Your thigh slotting between her legs, and her arms wrapping around your neck, she rests her helmet against yours and you both smile at each other. He also witnesses when you grind against your mic stand during mummy dust, tongue peeking out past your lips. He certainly doesn't miss when Sodo leans against your platform and does an erotic motion with his fingers, nodding his head down to give you a sultry look through his helmet.

He knows that you tend to be the target for most of the teasing on stage, the pack finding you to be the easiest and the most fun. The ghouls in the pack like to pick on you the most as they know just how riled up Swiss gets after, knowing it only makes your experience better, he only gets touchier and touchier with each time they interact with you.

Once the set is finished and Sorrow in the Wind starts, everyone moves downstage to throw picks, setlists, and drumsticks. Everyone is occupied, interacting with fans and handing out whatever is possible.

You are throwing out a pick to a fan who is holding a painting of Rain, blowing a kiss and forming your fingers into the shape of a heart. That's until you feel two arms wrap around your body, one firmly holding one of your breasts and the other planted on your lower stomach, forcing your body to press against his. A loud gasps leaves your lips as you feel his hard on pressing against your back, turning your head to stare blankly at his helmet. He has a large smile etched on his face that stands out from the black paint surrounding his lips, a roaring laugh leaving his chest as he can feel just how flustered you are. Your hands grasp onto his, shock of what he's doing settling in, thousands of people staring at you two, watching as he nearly ruts his hips into your back. His hands are gripping onto you so tight, he's getting protective and territorial, wanting to avoid the other ghouls from getting their hands onto you.

"Swisssss" You say, loud enough for him to hopefully hear you, knowing that he probably can't hear you, he still stares at your lips, watching them move. He knows that you're whining for you, begging him to continue on, to finish the show, but he can't help but stare at the way your lips move in such a tantalizing way. He does a teasing bite to the air, laughing as he pulls his hands away from your body.

After that Swiss still hovers near you, he is (somehow) able to keep his hands to himself, but he can't help but let a low growl escape when the other ghouls get close to you. Watching closely as Rain wraps his hand around your hip, pulling you in for a sweet hug as a congratulations for finishing yet another ritual. Only staring even harder when he sees Sodo wrap his arms around your waist, laughing and lightly tickling your sides. Thankfully, it's time for everyone to take their final bows. Except from Swiss forcing his way next to you, the bows go by like normal.

Your exit offstage is quick, blowing final kisses to the audience before you rush to remove the greasy paint from your face and the multi-layered costume from your body. The walk to the green room is quiet as you stay towards the front of the pack, wanting to get comfortable as soon as possible. You reach the green room and are first to remove your vest and mask, the black paint on your face messy and smeared. You take a deep breath before removing the rest of your costume, neatly putting it away in its assigned spot within the storage box, rushing off to the bathroom to clean yourself up.

In the bathroom, you're quick to make work of your makeup and make your hair more presentable, rather than the chaotic braids that usually lie under your mask. As you're bent over the sink, washing your face, Swiss comes up behind you to wrap his arms around you again. His hands are more vicious this time, taking advantage of the comfy clothes you have donned yourself in, the tank top that covers your top half is faring helpful in this situation. Swiss' hand easily manipulates the thin fabric to press his hand against your bare breast, his warm skin teasing over the rosy nubs that lie there. Another gasps leaves your lips, not expecting the heavy hands against your body, Swiss even thinks that he hears a slight yelp as well.

"Wanna get my hands all over you" Swiss says, dipping his head down to let his lips ghost against your neck, pressing soft kisses against the column of your neck. His hand tugs against your nipple, pinching the bud and rolling it between his fingers, pulling a meek moan from your lips. "You make such pretty noises and you're not even trying" He groans as he continues to roll your nipple in his fingers, his other hand finding a task as he pushes it into the waistband of your leggings. His hand is quick to find your clit, softly rubbing circles on the small bundle of nerves, "Swiss, please" you whimper.

"Just wanna make my girl feel good, that too much to ask for?" Swiss pleas, his hand only getting rougher against your clit, forcing another, louder moan out of you, this one coming from your chest, more guttural and desperate. "Let's get these off of you" Swiss says before rolling your leggings and underwear down your legs, revealing just how wet you truly are for him. His reaction doesn't consist of any words, just a husky and throaty groan, he can't help himself but to kneel behind you, pushing your chest forward, forcing you to be bent fully over the counter and fully revealed to him.

He can't help himself, he licks a long stripe up your cunt, savoring the taste and letting a groan be muffled into your body. His hands are desperately grabbing at the meat of your thighs, his fingertips digging into the squish that he adores so openly. His tongue can't help but delve into your cunt, feeling the way you clench around him and your body subconsciously begs for him to be inside of you.

Before he can get himself in too much trouble he pulls himself to stand, he finds himself looking into the mirror to see just how desperate you have become. Your eyes are squeezed shut as you breathe heavily, and he can't help but stare at the way your blush has traveled down your chest. Your chest is also a point that his eyes cannot leave, your breasts have been freed from your tank top, they're spilling out the top and one of your hands is playing with your nipples, while the other is white knuckling the countertop. "You look so pretty laid out like this for me, look at yourself, baby" Swiss coos, using one hand to grab your chin and force your gaze to the mirror. You can't help but gasp at the sight before you, your eyes are hooded and lazy, in general you look desperate and eager. Meanwhile, Swiss looks hungry, his eyes are devouring the way you look and you can see the thoughts racing through his mind, he's just thinking of all of the ways he can absolutely destroy and wreck you.

His knee knocks your legs further apart, he's staring at your fluttering hole as he undoes his belt and pulls down his pants enough to free his hard cock. He's sliding his cock through your folds before he places one hand on your hip, then forcing his length into you. You can't help but let out a quiet sob at the prospect of having him so deeply inside of you, needing him to just be as close to you as possible.

You drop your head in pleasure, unable to hold your body up as he starts a brutal pace, Swiss doesn't tolerate this, he grabs your chin again, forcing you to stare at yourself become progressively more wrecked. His hand clearly isn't enough stimulation, so he decides to shove his fingers into your mouth. He can't help but force them far back into your mouth, feeling you gag and whimper around him.

"Gonna cum so hard in you, gonna make sure they can smell me in you" Swiss encourages, you know who he is referring to when he says 'they'. He means the rest of the pack. Although you all are intimately involved with each other and don't shy away from fucking other ghouls, Swiss can't help but be protective over you. Swiss wants to coddle you and keep you for himself, he knows it's selfish, knows he should share the sweet clench of your cunt and the sweet taste of your spit, but he wants to keep it all to himself and savor your taste.

Swiss doesn't relent on his pace, but he does lower his other hand to rub your clit once again, bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm. He can't help but pull his fingers from your mouth, only moving them down to rub your spit onto your tits, smearing spit across you, "Such a messy girl" he degrades.

You can't help but cry out as your orgasm washes over you, white heat rolling through your body and becoming overwhelming as Swiss chases his own high. "Satan, baby, you look so good on my cock" Swiss groans, pushing himself closer to his own peak, his pace is vicious and inconsistent. I feel his hips stutter as he finally releases inside of you, his cum is warm and silky, far too good of a feeling to let go of. Your body revealing its intention as you clench around him, "Not wanting to let me go yet, honey?" he asks sweetly, as if it's even a question.

He's quick to pull your upper body up, pressing your back up against his chest, turning your head to press your lips together in an endearing kiss. His hands are still roaming your body, but this time with sweeter intentions.

"Are you guys done in there now? I've gotta piss" Phantom asks through the door, a giggle is shared between you and Swiss before you both clean yourselves up once again.

Once you two join everyone else in the green room again, finding that the other ghouls are all giggling and chatting, before Sodo decides to open his mouth.

"Soooooo, if you're gonna fuck Y/N like that after every show, can you at least move it to somewhere the rest of us can watch or do it somewhere that doesn't inconvenience us all?" Sodo says, a bit of sass laced in his voice, but it's all in good fun.

"I'm not gonna argue with that, but you guys need to keep playing with me during shows if it means I'm gonna get treated like that" You say before tucking yourself into Swiss' lap as he sits on the couch in the corner of the room, counting down the hours until your next rituals conclusion.

#swiss army ghoul #swiss ghost #swissarmy #swiss ghoul #swiss #smut #ghost the band #ghost bc #ghost band #shitghosting #tw smut

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minisugakoobies · 2 years

Text

All Wound Up (Harder) | KSJ, PJM

Pairing: Seokjin x Reader x Jimin

Genre: smut, porn with the barest of plots, strangers to lovers, Rock Star!AU

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: swearing, drinking, kissing, oral (m + f receiving), facefucking, fingering, masturbation (m), handjobs, multiple cumshots, teasing, orgasm denial/edging, nipple tweaking, pinching, light spanking, thigh slapping, finger sucking, threesome, rough sex, spitroasting, squirting, Jimin's tongue, yes that needs its own warning, brat tamer Jin agenda, Fire Jin and Mic Drop Jimin are the visuals but with a lot more sweat and body chains, prodigious use of the words "brat" "sir" and "good girl" so don't say I didn't warn you, pure sunshine Hoseok agenda

Word Count: 11K

Disclaimer: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: It's Jin and Jimin's turn for their body chain fittings. Will you finish the job and go home, or will this turn into another unforgettable night?

A/N: It's finally here! The sequel to All Wound Up (Tighter), which was inspired by the body harnesses worn by the vocal line at Permission to Dance On Stage. This can be read as a standalone fic if you haven't read the first one!

This is basically PWP again, so please be advised that reality truly doesn't factor in here. In the real world, there would probably be more of a discussion about kinks and limits, but is just a story of filthy strangers about to get it on. It's one hundred percent pure indulgence. Please enjoy. 😈

(Also this is my first attempt at writing brat taming, so... please be kind! 🥺)

Unbeta'd as usual. Let me know what you think - my inbox is open!💕

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜

“Sugar! What a delightful surprise. Aren’t you supposed to be at your fitting with Jin and Jimin?”

“I sure am. So would you care to tell me why I’m at their hotel suite right now and they are not?” You sigh into your phone, listening as your business partner taps away on his laptop.

“Um, I’m not sure. My last email exchange with Yoongi says they’d be ready for you at four. Let me call him real quick and see what’s going on, okay?” Hoseok offers.

“Okay.” Hanging up, you slide down the wall to sit against the door, glancing at your watch with a frown.

As the owner of a successful body accessories shop, Dark & Wild, you really don’t have time to spare. Your jewelry is in high demand, especially after two of the members of the band Dead Leaves wore your body chains during the first leg of their sold out world tour.

You painstakingly craft every piece yourself. As your company’s popularity grows, so does your need to be back in your workshop, not sitting in the hallway of the ritzy Black Swan hotel, waiting for the other half of the band to show up for a fitting for their own custom harnesses.

Your phone buzzes. “Got some bad news, sugar,” Hoseok softly coos, obviously trying to cushion whatever blow he’s about to deliver. “It looks like Yoongi got the dates mixed up. He thought the fitting was tomorrow. The band’s still at rehearsal right now.”

“Well, that’s just fucking great. I’ve wasted my time getting here today, and I can’t be here tomorrow because I have that out-of-town meeting with my silver guy, remember?”

“I do remember, since I’m the one who scheduled it. But it’s okay - I have some good news, too.”

You lean your head against the door. “Why the fuck didn’t you lead with that?”

Hoseok laughs, the sunny sound filling the hallway. “Sorry, I figured it was better to start with the bad. Anyway, Yoongi is sending someone over to pick you up and take you to the concert venue. He said you’re welcome to hang out until rehearsal ends - should only be another hour or so - or you can hang out in the artist’s lounge backstage. You can do the fitting there when they’re done.”

“Sure, whatever,” you reply, grabbing the handle of your suitcase, which holds the custom pieces. “Tell Yoongi I’m charging him for the time I have to sit here waiting.”

“I’ll pass along the message,” Hoseok promises, hanging up as you drag your suitcase back to the lobby.

Yoongi apparently took your billing threat seriously, because only a few minutes later, you spot a tall slab of beefcake bounding towards you. His tight black “Security” shirt looks like it’s two seconds from ripping at the seams as he smiles at you, dimples popping out.

He calls out your name as a question and you nod. “Yoongi-ssi sends his apologies,” the tall man says. “I’m Namjoon. I’ll be your ride to Heaven.”

“I bet,” you mutter under your breath, following him out to where an idling black SUV waits.

Dead Leaves typically sell out giant coliseums and stadiums, but for this tour, they’re going back to their roots and only playing in intimate venues. The show they’re rehearsing for today is at Stairway to Heaven, the iconic dive bar slash rock’n’roll club where all the greats who have passed through your city have played over the years.

This is what Namjoon informs you as you sit quietly in the passenger’s seat, resting your head against the window. You didn’t ask and you don’t care, but he’s more than happy to fill you in anyway. You get the feeling he doesn’t get to do a lot of talking in his line of work, eyeing the scrapes on his knuckles and the swell of his biceps.

The band is on stage when you arrive at the club. Namjoon leads you to the balcony, which is really just a metal catwalk ringing the main floor. “You can hang out here,” he shouts over the music. “Or if you want to wait in the green room, it’s downstairs. Just take a left at the bottom of the stairs and follow the signs.”

You shoot him a thumbs up and he disappears.

As the band strikes up another emo pop punk power ballad, your eye is drawn to familiar faces. The bass player, a dark-haired Adonis with a sprawling tattoo of branches and flowers trailing down his shirtless torso. Taehyung. And behind the drum kit, sporting purple hair now instead of pretty mint, tongue flicking out to lick at his lip ring as he pounds away, is Jungkook. The two men who’d worn your body chains.

Visions of their fitting flash before your eyes. Memories of two pairs of hands. Two mouths. Two incredibly sexy men, making you cum harder than you’d ever cum in your life.

You turn away, not even bothering to look at the other two band members. What happened last time was a one-time thing. A total fluke. This time, you’re going to keep it professional. Do the fitting, make any necessary alterations, and get the fuck out.

Right? Right.

Turns out Dead Leaves’s music is actually really catchy. But you decide to go wait in the green room anyway. Hopefully, the band will finish shortly and you can get the fitting done and be back on your way to your studio before your entire day is shot.

Forty-five minutes later, you’re still waiting. You’re also pretty tipsy.

All desire to maintain your professionalism goes straight out the window when you spot the impressive tequila collection in the bar at the back of the artist lounge, a literally green room with bright lime velvet curtains hanging from the walls. Plush leather couches line one side, makeup mirrors and vanities the other. It’s fairly swank for such an old rattrap of a club. Even the private bathroom is nice, with a surprisingly large glass double shower stall for the band to use.

Typically, you wouldn’t drink on the job, but the longer you wait, the longer you feel like you deserve a little treat. You pour yourself one shot, and it goes down smooth like butter, so you pour a second. Then you decide to put on some music while you wait, playing with the ancient jukebox in the corner of the room.

It’s as you’re taking the third shot, tipping your head back while you dance around the lounge, that the door opens and two angels walk in.

These heavenly blond men, one tall and broad shouldered, the other shorter and slender, gaze at you in surprise with wide innocent eyes, obviously not expecting to find you tipsy and grinding it out to “How Do You Want It?” like the rent is due tomorrow.

Slamming the empty shot glass on the bar, you wipe your mouth delicately as you grin. “Hi. I got bored.”

“Hi,” the tall one says. “I’m Jin.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Jimin.” The shorter one flashes a cherubic smile. “Sorry about the wait.”

As they approach, you are struck by two thoughts: fuck, they’re hot, and fuck, they’re sweaty.

Jin peels off a black duster-length leather coat, revealing a white button-up that is totally drenched with sweat. Meanwhile, Jimin’s black t-shirt is sticking to him, outlining every muscle underneath. His plaid pants cling to obscenely thick thighs.

And you’re here to do a fitting. To put your hands all over those bodies.

Which has you wondering… where are the other two? Not that you need them here or anything. Just curious.

Jimin notices you eyeing the door. “Taehyung and Jungkook needed to get back to the hotel,” he says, sliding behind the bar. “They said hi, by the way.” He knocks back a shot of tequila and grins, eyes squeezing into tiny crescents.

“Yeah,” Jin leans against the bar beside you, a similarly bright smile on his face. “I think they wanted to come say hello in person, but they’re doing an interview.” He downs the shot Jimin hands him as you wave away his offer to refill your glass.

“Oh. Cool.” Two fewer distractions to deal with. Definitely for the best. At least these two don’t throw off any sinful tempter vibes like the other two did. Jimin and Jin have such a sweet energy. Maybe you can knock this fitting out fast enough to get a ride home from Namjoon before your buzz wears off. Then maybe you can ride Namjoon at home.

No more tequila for you.

“So, where do you want us?” Jin asks.

Déjà vu.

You tilt your head slightly, wishing you hadn’t had that third shot. Then you glance at both men’s damp shirts again. “Do you, uh, need a minute to clean up or shower or whatever? Like, don’t let me stop you. You look like you’ve been rehearsing hard. ”

Jimin laughs. “Is that your polite way of saying we look disgusting?” he inquires, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“No, no!” You wave your hands. “I just thought you might want to make yourselves more comfortable. I’m clearly interrupting your usual post-rehearsal routine.”

“Oh no, please, we’re the ones inconveniencing you!” Jin claims, eyes widening again. The silver chains dangling from his ears bounce as he shakes his head. “Yoongi-ah told us how busy you are. He feels really terrible about the mix-up and told us to make sure we took care of you.”

“Yeah, so if you don’t mind that we’re a little sweaty, we can go ahead and start. We don’t want to make you wait any longer,” Jimin finishes.

It’s obviously going to be a standoff between who can be the most accommodating, so you decide to cave.

“I don’t mind if you don’t mind,” you declare, and grasp the handle on your case. “We can just use the mirrors here. Who wants to go first?”

“Go ahead, hyung,” Jimin says, tipping more tequila into his mouth.

Popping your case open, you retrieve Jin’s harness as you wait for him to remove his shirt. He makes no such movement. After a few seconds, you clear your throat. “Uh. You gonna take that off, or…?”

Jin blinks. “Do you need me to?”

“Well, I thought… I mean, Taehyung and Jungkook said…” The other two told you they perform shirtless, so you just assumed the whole band did. You’re not really sure why you made that leap. “They don’t wear shirts on stage.”

“Ah. Right. Well, I do.”

“Yeah, hyung’s not a show-off like our maknaes,” Jimin chimes in, propping his chin in his hand on the bar. “Or me. He’s got class.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Jin winks.

“The harness is designed to be worn over clothing as well, so it doesn’t matter, anyway.” You lift the chain and nod for him to step forward.

Jin stoops slightly so you can drape the chain over his neck. You slowly circle him, smoothing out the harness over the sodden wrinkles of his starch-white shirt. Patches of the material are so soaked that they’re see-through, giving you a glimpse of sun-kissed skin beneath.

“Hmmm,” he hums, glancing at himself in one of the makeup mirrors on the wall as you step back. “Maybe it would be better without a shirt.” His fingers make quick work of his buttons and he starts to slip the top off.

With a sigh, you help him remove the shirt without getting tangled up in his chain. His skin is so slick beneath your hands. Normally, you’d wrinkle your nose in disgust at a stranger’s sweat underneath your fingertips, but the shots have dulled your reactions a little so you don’t mind. It helps that he smells like tequila and strawberries mixed with his natural muskiness. It’s a heady concoction.

Or maybe that’s the liquor.

Either way, it takes you a moment to realize he asked you something.

“Sorry, what?” You meet his gaze in the mirror. He smirks for a second before he repeats himself.

“I said, I think I like this better. What’s your professional opinion?”

Your professional opinion? The harness perfectly accents his sculpted body.

No wonder the man prefers to keep his shirt on when he’s on stage. It’s bad enough he walks around with that handsome face. He’d probably start a riot if he walked around topless, too. His skin shimmers with his exertion, sweat clinging to his arms and pecs, and he seems even broader now without any clothing hiding his frame. The chain draws your eye down his back, from his wide shoulders to his rather tapered waist. He’s got those upside-down triangle proportions. A perfect Dorito.

Your unprofessional opinion? He’s hot as fuck and the chain would give you something to hold on to while you ride him into the sunrise.

Maybe you should drink some water.

The design Jin requested doesn’t appear at first to be as flashy as the others. It’s a simple chain, one loop around his neck, one strand running down his front, one down his back, ending in flares over his hips. But when he shifts, the metal catches the light, revealing tiny droplets of moissanite woven into the strands. The sparkling effect makes him even more dazzling. Especially when he unleashes that brilliant smile, warm chestnut eyes shimmering as he waits for your answer.

“I think it works.”

Jimin joins his bandmate by the mirror. “Damn, hyung, you should definitely wear this and nothing but this on stage tomorrow night. Everyone will lose their minds.” His fingers ghost down the chain hanging on Jin’s back. “Okay, can I put mine on now?” Jimin turns to you excitedly.

“Hold on a sec. Do you like the way it hangs, Jin? Is the length ok? The tightness?” You return to his side. “If you need any alterations, I can make those tonight and have this ready for you to wear tomorrow. If that’s what you want.”

Jin appraises himself in the mirror. ��I don’t think it needs anything. You're really talented, you know that?”

“I do. But it never hurts to hear it,” you grin. “If you don’t need anything changed, then it’s all yours.”

Jimin claps. “Now do me!”

The eternal 13-year-old in your head snickers at his words as you delicately remove Jimin’s harness from your case. Jimin yanks his shirt over his head and once again you’re greeted by the sight of bronzed skin coated in a glossy sheen of sweat. He’s lithe, more of a dancer’s build than rippling muscles, and like his absent bandmates, he has some ink, the word “Nevermind” scrawled along his ribcage while an ornately-written “Youth” hides behind one of his ears. On the back of his neck is a sliver of a moon.

As he lowers his head, you arrange the chain around him, fingers flying to work any kinks away. Jimin’s chain has the longest neck piece, the v dipping all the way down to his navel. His links are larger than the others, more ornate, and hanging on such a gorgeous man, the effect is rather regal.

As you finish uncoiling the flares over his hips, you brush your fingers over the tattoo on his side. “Nirvana?”

He shakes his head. “Everyone always guesses that.”

“It’s a secret. He won’t even tell us,” Jin pipes up from one of the couches. He’s still wearing his chain, absentmindedly twining it around his hand, looking every inch the sweaty rock god he is.

“You guys already know too much about me. Gotta keep some mystery in our relationship,” Jimin grins cheekily, tugging on one of silver hoops hanging from his ear.

You simply hum, observing the harness closely, looking for any imperfections. Finding none.

You’re definitely not also examining the incredible body underneath. This entire band is nothing but ridiculously hunky men, huh?

“So what’s the verdict?” you ask, extending a hand to straighten a few links. Your fingers once again skim over the smooth skin of his shoulder blade, perhaps lingering a second or two longer than necessary.

Jimin’s expression changes as he assesses his reflection. He looks almost stern now, blond hair flopping over his furrowed brow, critically scrutinizing his appearance. Evaluating your work.

“I love it,” he finally announces, a beatific smile lighting up his face. “It’s perfect as is.”

“Fantastic.” Well, that was fucking easy. You glance at your watch. There’s still enough time for you to get back to your studio and get some work done without having it bleed into your night. Although, maybe you should wait to sober up a little more before you handle any machinery or tools. You’re still pondering this as Jin stands.

“Question - can we get these wet?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, I wouldn’t, like, wear them swimming every day or anything, but they’ll be fine.” You eye the chain dangling from his chest. “Why, are you worried about all that sweat tarnishing them?”

Jin laughs, a goofy squeaking honk that has you giggling despite yourself. You’re a lot of things, but a giggler’s not one of them. “No, but should I be? That’s the second time you’ve pointed out how gross we are after rehearsing.”

“Ah, that’s not… actually, no, you’re right, the two of you are pretty nasty right now,” you reply with a teasing grin, zipping up your case.

“Hey!” Jimin protests, plump lips forming a pout. “We’re not that bad. You should see us after a concert.”

“Besides, I didn’t hear you complaining when you had your hands all over me earlier,” Jin adds, wiggling his eyebrows faux seductively.

“Excuse me? I didn’t have my hands ‘all over you,’ I was helping you adjust the harness!” you correct him with an indignant snort. “Believe me, if I had, we wouldn’t be having this discussion right now.”

Well, that’s not quite what you meant to say. And now you can’t stop imagining running your hands all over his slick skin, caressing the areas you didn’t get to touch earlier, like the ridges of his abs… damn it, you need to focus right now! You’re so close to being done here, so why are you trying to drag things out? Just wrap it up so you can leave!

Jin loses his silly expression, eyebrow lifting in sincere curiosity now. “And why is that?”

For the briefest of moments, you consider laughing and changing the subject, but something about the look in his eye awakens your more playful side. There’s no harm in indulging in some flirtation, right? It’s been a long week. Might as well enjoy yourself a little.

It’s not like this fitting is going to end like the last one. You’re almost out the door now. Pretty much.

“I mean, you’ve seen my handiwork,” you purr, reaching out to stroke the strand of metal hanging from his neck, sliding your fingers along the links. ”Do you really think if I got my talented hands all over you, you’d still be able to speak right now?”

Maybe you laid it on a little thick. You’ve never seen a man’s iris visibly darken like that before. Jin’s eyebrow rises again as the corner of his mouth lifts. “I stand corrected.”

“Mmmhmm. That’s what I thought.” Pulling the handle on your case, you look at the door. “So, do I just talk to Namjoon about getting a ride home, or….”

“Ah, Namjoon-ah is already gone. He took Tae and Kook to the hotel,” Jin explains.

“Oh.” Damn. There goes your trip to heaven. “Well, okay, can someone else here give me a ride home?”

“I’m sure we can arrange something,” Jimin says. “Are you in a hurry to leave?”

“Kinda. I have a lot of work waiting for me.”

“Wait, are we done with the fitting?” Jin interjects.

“Uh, yes? I mean, you both said you were happy with your chains as is, right? No alterations needed?”

“Sure, but what about testing the quality of the chains?”

The blank look you shoot him prompts Jin to continue.

“You know, you say the harnesses are safe in water, but then tomorrow night we get on stage, and we splash some water bottles around, and next thing you know, these chains are all rusty.” He pauses, tipping his head towards his bandmate. “Jimin, don’t you think we should get a little demonstration? Make sure the chains can hold up to some serious wetness?”

Jimin glances at his hyung, and though you can’t quite interpret the look that passes between them, given the glimmer in Jimin’s deep brown orbs, you’re fairly certain you get the gist.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Jimin nods, sly smile creeping across his face. “Yoongi’d never let us hear the end of it if we spent all this money on this jewelry only to have it corrode on us. And the last thing we need is an annoyed Yoongi-hyung.”

“You wouldn’t want to leave us disappointed, would you?” Jin takes a step closer, his long fingers tangling in his chain as he peers at you.

You glance from man to man. Both are waiting for your answer.

The pile of work waiting back in your studio is practically screaming your name at this point. So why are you still standing here, contemplating your next move?

You know exactly why. You can’t stop thinking about the last fitting. That session ended the way it did because those two made you a very enticing offer. These two haven’t done any such thing yet, but they’re clearly dragging things out–they can’t possibly be serious about testing the “quality” of the chains, can they? They obviously want you to stay a little longer.

So what do you want?

“Okay, so what, you need a demonstration or something?”

Both men nod.

“Well, I suppose I could show you…” you spin around the room before pointing to the private bathroom. “In there?”

The three of you crowd around the pedestal sink. Another playful urge comes over you. With a twist of the tap, you grab a handful of water and fling it at Jin, purposefully missing the chain dangling from his chest and hitting his face instead. He yelps in surprise.

“Hey!”

You and Jimin laugh as he sputters.

“See? It holds up fine.” You gesture to the metal.

“Uh, it barely got wet,” Jimin points out.

“Yeah, you only hit my face!” Jin glares.

Sighing, you nod. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Let me try again.” You cup your hand and immediately toss more water at Jin’s handsome face. Jimin’s cackles grow louder as Jin grabs a hand towel, dabbing his eyes.

“Sorry, sorry, my aim is so bad today!” You reach for the tap and Jin suddenly grabs your forearm with his hand. “Hey!”

A nasty artillery of curse words start to launch themselves from your lips, but the hard look he gives you makes you fall silent. “Don’t you even think about throwing one more handful,” he drawls slowly, speaking calmly, as his thumb softly caresses the inside of your wrist, back and forth.

A shiver runs through you at the timbre of his voice.

“Okay. I won’t throw one,” you promise, all sweetness and light as you smile at him.

As soon as he releases you, you scoop up water with both hands.

It splashes everywhere, hitting Jin’s face, neck, chest, even you and Jimin get sprayed. The shorter man doubles over in laughter as Jin sputters in shock. As he dries his face again, Jin’s eyes sweep over you from head to toe, carefully assessing you. Another tingle races down your spine.

Then he draws himself up to his full height and your mirth evaporates completely. He pushes his dripping hair back from his face as he glowers, tongue poking his cheek, full lips pursed. The heat from his gaze ironically freezes you, and you go completely still as he curls his long fingers around both of your wrists. With a sharp yank, he pulls you to him, and you gasp. He holds you with a firm grip, not tight enough that you couldn’t break away. This close, you can feel the heat of his body.

“Brat,” he rasps, the tone of his voice much lower than before. “That was very rude. I distinctly told you not to do that.” His gaze is unfathomably dark, sending a jolt of excitement shooting through you, right to your core. Fuck, that look just makes you want to piss him off more.

“No, you told me not to throw one handful. I didn’t. I threw two.” You lift your chin defiantly, a proud smirk on your lips.

Jin’s eyes narrow. “Jimin,” he says, craning his head to look around you. “Did you hear that?”

Holy fuck, while reveling in Jin’s smoldering gaze, you nearly forgot about the other man, who is silently observing the two of you. Just watching.

More déjà vu.

“Mmmhmm. She’s got a real smart mouth, hyung.” Jimin’s hands dance over your shoulders as he comes up behind you. The rings on his fingers press lightly into your bare arms, and as he steps closer, you find yourself trapped between the bandmates.

“If you think this is me being a smartass, you-”

Jin grabs your chin, cutting off your retort. “He wasn’t talking to you, brat.” His eyes flash.

Well. This is not a situation you typically find yourself in. Not just the physical, standing between two insanely gorgeous men, but letting anyone talk to you this way. You have a reputation for being a ballbuster for several reasons. You have literally kicked multiple people in the balls over the years for saying less to you.

But right now you don’t want to do or say a thing to break the delicious tension in the room. Wherever this is going, you are in.

“Bold little brat, coming in here, drinking all our tequila, calling us gross, disobeying our requests and now talking back?” Jin tsks, skimming his hand down your neck. Despite his rough tone, his touch is gentle, and you practically burn for more. “What should we do about that?”

Jimin sniffs. “What we always do, hyung. Teach them a lesson.”

Well, fuck. You’re suddenly glad you didn’t leave earlier. Work has been so much lately - busy is good, but busy is stressful - and you’re in dire need of a release. The pile of unfinished projects back at your studio will have to wait. You need to know what these two have in mind.

Jin nods in agreement with his bandmate. “Any suggestions?”

“I have a few,” you hum, knowing full well that he wasn’t talking to you. Jin’s eyebrows rise. He leans so close, you can feel his breath on your lips.

“Did I address you, brat? Say your name, hmm?”

“No.”

“No…?”

Oh, fuck, we’ve got ourselves a sir. This isn’t usually your thing, but… what the hell. You can play along.

“No, sir,” you intone politely, licking your lips.

Jin huffs in amusement. “Well, look at that, it’s not just her mouth that’s smart. She knows exactly what to say now, huh?” His head tips to the side again, that appraising look wandering over your frame, lingering on your chest, your hips. “Good girl. Keep it up.”

“That’s what we like to hear,” Jimin adds, hands massaging your shoulders. His fingers are rough, unsurprising for a guitarist, and as they dig into the knots in your neck, a tiny moan slips past your lips. “Oh, she’s all wound up, hyung. Did that feel good?” His voice is a whisper in your ear, breath a ghost on your skin.

“Yes,” you groan, and the fingers stop. Shit. “Yes, sir.”

Jimin chuckles as Jin tugs you against his chest again, snapping your attention back to him. “So… are you ready to learn?”

It’s a simple question. You know what he’s really asking. This is it - last exit. Last chance to bow out. Because you’re pretty sure once you answer, there’s no going back.

Fuck it. You’re in.

“Yes, sir.”

Jin studies your face carefully, suddenly rather serious. “If anything gets too much for you, you stop us right away by saying a safe word. Can you think of a word you want to use?”

Shit. How rough are these two about to get? You’re pretty much down for anything, but you’ve never had to use a safe word before. What are you supposed to pick - something memorable but unlikely to come up naturally, right? “Uh. Sure. How about… alpaca?”

His lips twitch in mirth. “Alpaca? Okay. If you think you’ll remember that?”

You nod. “Yes, I’ll remember. Sir.”

That sinful smile again. “Good girl. Then let’s see….” He glances around the small space. “I think you still owe us a proper demonstration. Don’t you think so, Jimin-ah?”

“Definitely, hyung.” Jimin wanders over to the glass shower stall. “I don’t think we can trust her with the sink, though. We better try it here. In case it gets messy.”

“Oh, I know it’s going to get messy. But she’s not going to try another trick like that. Are you?” Jin asks, once more grasping your chin with his fingers. You gaze into his molten eyes as you attempt to shake your head, but his firm grip keeps it in place. “Use your words.”

“No… sir.” It is not in your nature to address someone like this. You’re absolutely going to forget at some point and it’s absolutely going to get you into trouble, isn’t it?

The thought sends a hot lick of desire swooping into your stomach.

Jin releases you and takes a step back. He starts to peel his ridiculously tight jeans off as Jimin also strips down to his boxers. “Come on, brat. Take off those clothes. Don’t want them getting soaked, now do we?”

Both men stare unabashedly at you as you slowly peel your tank top and jeans off, leaving your lacy black bra and matching panties on. Jimin whistles, and you preen. You’ve never been shy about your body, embracing every curve, and the looks of admiration on their faces bolster you even more.

“Such pretty packaging,” Jimin murmurs as he pulls you into the shower with him and Jin. “Okay if I unwrap you?”

You nod, and he just blinks patiently, waiting. “Oh! Yes, sir.”

With a crooked grin, Jimin slides his hands around your waist and up your back. He’s moving painfully slowly for your taste, but you don’t protest, breath hitching as he tilts his face to yours. Gentle lips caress your own, and as you lean into his kiss, he unhooks your bra before pulling you closer.

Another pair of hands land on your waist, lightly tugging your panties down. The sensation is so featherlight that it tickles, and you giggle into Jimin’s mouth before moaning as the fingers quickly slip between your legs, smearing through the slickness there with a much rougher touch.

“Hmmm, someone’s eager,” Jin whispers into your ear as he presses himself flat against your back, as much as he can with a massive erection poking into the swell of your ass. The silk of his boxers rubs against you as he continues. “You want me to keep going?” His fingers hover at your entrance.

“Please, sir,” you gasp, breaking away from Jimin’s plush lips long enough to answer. The shorter man’s own hardness pokes into your thigh as you push back against Jin, waiting for him to slide one of those long fingers inside you.

Only to let out a wail of disappointment as he withdraws his hand from where you want it most and gives you a little slap on your ass. The sting makes you jump in shock.

“You really think you deserve that right now, brat?” Jin smacks your cheek again, and you whimper pathetically, surprising yourself. “We’d be pretty terrible at this if we rewarded you now, wouldn’t we?”

A million retorts run through your mind but you choke them down. “Yes, sir.”

Jimin smiles sweetly, his hand soothingly rubbing the spot where Jin’s smacks still twinge. “Don’t worry. Just do what we tell you and we’ll make sure you get what you want.” His smile becomes something darker, more devilish. “Eventually.”

In tandem, Jimin and Jin drop their boxers. You attempt not to gawk as their cocks spring free. Jin’s is just as long as you’d expected given his height, but you’re shocked to discover how thick the shorter man’s is. Jimin catches you gaping and shoots you a wink.

“Let’s get wet,” he trills playfully, and with a twist of the knob on the wall, water begins to pour from the double showerhead above.

Both men run their hands through their hair as the water cascades over their naked bodies. Jimin brushes the damp strands out of his face before he grabs your hand and tugs you over, spinning you around so Jin can kiss you while his own hands roam over your backside. The elder’s tongue slips between your panting lips as Jimin squeezes your ass, his mouth suctioning to your neck. There is warm, slick skin all around you, pressing into every exposed inch of your front and back, and for a moment you lose yourself in the sensation, eyes closing in bliss.

Jin pulls away, tipping his head back to let the shower run down his broad shoulders and over his chest. The chain glitters in the light reflecting off the drops of water that cling to it as he holds the metal out to inspect. “Looks like it’s holding up well.”

“Well, duh, I told you it was water resistant! I mean, hello, I can tell you exactly what it’s made of. The metal is–” Your eyes go wide as one of Jimin’s hands snakes around and clamps your mouth shut, gently pinching your lips between his thumb and forefinger. “Mmmph!”

“Wow, you just can’t stop with the attitude, can you?” he tuts, other arm wrapping around your waist to hold you flush to him. “Hyung, what are we going to do with this mouth?”

“I think we need to keep it busy,” Jin replies, eyes glimmering. Something about the look in his eye has you clenching around nothing. “You know, I’m not sure this shower is really doing the trick. Maybe you should help us out, brat.” He laughs. “Since you so rudely told us we were disgusting earlier, I think you should be the one to clean us.”

Jimin releases your lips so you can answer. “You want me to… wash you?” Your fingers twitch at the thought of finally getting to roam over their taut bodies. Jin gives you a look. “Uh, sir?”

Jin nods, and Jimin’s arm drops to let you move. Okay. Not quite what you expected them to ask you to do, but fine. You don’t mind. But as you reach for the soap and washcloths tucked into a niche in the shower wall, Jin holds his arm out, blocking you.

“Uh-uh,” he clucks his tongue. “Not with those.”

Oh, of course. Honestly, how did you not see this coming?

“Tongue only,” Jin commands, dragging his fingers along your jaw and tapping your lips with his crooked pointer. “Now get to work.”

Stepping under the stream of water raining down, you tentatively approach the taller blonde, unsure where exactly to start. He grins, tilting his head to the side to expose his neck, and you rise up on your tiptoes, sliding the tip of your tongue between your teeth to give an experimental lick.

Fuck, he even tastes like strawberries.

A contented hum rumbles through Jin’s chest as you run your tongue down his throat, gathering the sweat and salt hidden in the little notch between his collarbones. You reach out with both hands to touch him, but Jimin stops you, locking his fingers around your wrists.

“Oh no, none of that,” he sings over your shoulder, tugging on your forearms. You understand immediately what he wants, allowing him to bring your arms behind your back. “Keep these here,” he demands, his fingers lacing yours together. “Can’t have you using your hands. Or touching yourself. You gotta earn that. Do you understand?”

“Really? No hands?” darts past your lips before you can stop it.

There’s a sharp pinch on your ass. You jump with a squeal. “Hey!”

Another pinch. This time, you bite your tongue, glaring over your shoulder at the pincher, who merely smiles behind you.

“When I tell you to answer me, I’m not asking for commentary,” Jimin states, clucking his tongue. “A simple ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, sir,’ will suffice. Got it?”

“Yes. Sir.” Goddamn it, how do people remember to keep using that word? And can you really keep quiet like they want you to? This stuff doesn’t come naturally to you, but you’ll be damned if you’re going to stop, especially now, as you tip your chin up again to return to your task.

Without your hands to keep you steady, you’re a little awkward as you keep moving down, flicking your tongue over one of his dusky brown nipples, then the other. Water trickles into your lips, mingling with the tang of his sweat. Jin doesn’t seem to mind that you keep bumping your nose against him. He sighs happily while you lave over his torso, kissing and licking the whole way as you sink to your knees.

“Good girl,” he murmurs as you settle yourself between his legs. Another wave of arousal rolls through your belly. You actually like it when he calls you that. Surprising. The phrase always struck you as condescending, but from Jin’s luscious lips, it sounds like the highest praise. “Now let’s keep that mouth busy, okay?” His hand pumps his cock lazily a few times, and you sit back on your heels, just waiting. “Come here, brat. Come get a taste.”

Jin’s wide shoulders block most of the water from the shower from hitting you as you rise up on your knees and lean towards the anaconda in his hand. There’s absolutely no way you’re getting that whole thing in your mouth without gagging, even for someone without much of a gag reflex. But you’ll sure as hell try anyway.

“Better open wide,” Jimin advises, standing next to Jin under the other showerhead. He slowly strokes his cock, gaze fixed on your mouth. “Stick out that sharp tongue, baby, and let us see what else it’s good for, besides talking back.”

Letting your jaw drop, you scoot forward as Jin lays the head of his cock on your tongue. You swirl around him, wetting the tip before you suck it into your mouth. “That’s it,” Jin groans, as his head rolls back. His eyes close for a second, but then he reopens them, not wanting to look away as you take more of him in. “Show me what this mouth was made for.”

You merely hum in assent, focusing on keeping your jaw relaxed and your throat open as Jin plunges in languidly, reveling in the delicious wet heat of your mouth. It’s weird doing this without your hands to balance yourself. And you want to touch him, stroke the length that isn’t in your mouth yet, make sure he’s enjoying everything you can give him, but you remember Jimin’s instructions and keep your hands behind your back, tightly clutching.

One of Jin’s large hands cups the back of your head as he continues to slide more of himself into your waiting lips. “Ready to take more?” He starts to thrust a little faster. “Like this? Can you take it, brat?”

“Mmmm,” you gurgle, saliva flooding your mouth, and you swallow around him. He moans and picks up his pace. His hand presses your head forward, and you don’t resist, letting him guide you as wants.

“Go on, hyung, she can handle it.” Jimin’s own tongue snakes out of his mouth to lick at the corner of his lips as he grips his erection, jerking faster. “Look at her. She’s ready. Fuck that sass right out of that mouth.”

“Fuck, yeah, she’s ready, aren’t you, brat?” Jin smirks down at you. “Gonna fuck your mouth now. Take it like a good girl.”

Just like in business, when it comes to your sex life, you’re usually the one in control. It’s just how you’ve always been - no matter if it was a long-term relationship or a one night stand, you’ve always been the one calling the shots. To be like this now, on your knees, hands locked behind you, letting this man use your face as a fuck toy… well, it’s new. Even the previous fitting wasn’t like this.

You’re fucking loving it.

His hard cock plunges faster into your mouth, and you gaze up at him with wide eyes, trying to impress upon him just how much you want to stay his good girl. The tiles under your knees are hard and cold, but you don’t give a fuck, intent only on getting Jin off and proving you deserve a reward. All you want right now is to make him fall apart on your tongue.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you gag, drool spilling over your lips only to be washed away by the water flowing from the showerheads. Jin fucks your face, his fingers gripping your head, making you bob on him. It’s not just saliva that drips down your body. Your arousal is coating your thighs at this point, and you clench them together tightly, wishing desperately for some friction.

Jin’s head lolls back again, lost in ecstasy as he thrusts into your throat. With his eyes closed, Jimin appears to also be adrift in rapture, furiously stroking himself to the sounds of your gagging mingling with the moans that slip from Jin’s plump lips.

Keeping your left hand behind your back, you carefully slide your right hand between your legs and press on your throbbing clit. A low hum bubbles up from your chest, the relief immediate and overwhelming. Jin hisses at the vibrations. “Fuck, brat, that’s it. Just like that.”

You nearly slip a finger inside yourself, dying to feel something filling your throbbing cunt, but quickly lock your hands behind your back again before either man catches you.

Jin suddenly withdraws from your mouth completely. Shit. Did he see you touch yourself?

“Why?” you whine frustratedly.

Jin laughs, wrapping his fingers around his darkened head. “Poor thing’s cockhungry now, huh? It’s okay, brat, it’s just Jimin’s turn.”

The other man bites his lush bottom lip as he watches you open your mouth with an expectant look. Huffing a laugh, he taps his cock on your waiting tongue. “Is that as wide as you can go?”

With an annoyed glare, you open as wide as you possibly can, and his head finally passes through your lips. Jimin doesn’t take his time building up his pace like Jin did. Instead, the younger man immediately begins to thrust as quickly as you can take him, lips stretching around his girth as he ruts away.

Whereas Jin tasted like strawberries, tart but sweet, Jimin is all salt, a slight tang that you still savor as you work your tongue along the bottom of his thick cock. His scent hits your nose as it bounces off his pelvis, filling your senses with nothing but him, driving all other thoughts out of your head.

“Ahh, shit, that’s a good little mouth,” he hisses as you repeat your actions, sucking and swallowing around him like you did to Jin, who is still gripping himself tightly as he watches. Your eyes bounce from man to man, drinking in their expressions. Jin’s gaze is sharp, focused, while Jimin’s eyelashes flutter against his round cheeks as he moans, running a hand down the chain hanging over his chest. “Fuck, baby, you can use your hands now.”

As soon as you hear the command, you ignore the unceasing need between your legs and reach out and grab Jin’s cock in one hand and Jimin’s in the other. Both men groan harmoniously, and you speed up your pumping, spurred on by the way their noises grow louder, more agitated.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum,” Jin pants. “Gonna paint you, brat.”

“Oh, fuck, me too, here it comes,” Jimin gasps.

“Mmmph,” you moan, and Jin’s first spurt hits you in the chin, white dripping down your neck as Jimin’s hips stutter and he cums down your throat. He pulls out as you sputter and choke, but you don’t let a single drop spill, swallowing it all down.

Jimin grabs your hand and helps you to your feet. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs, kissing you softly. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” As he draws you in for another kiss, you feel the ticklish scrub of a cloth on your back, and realize that Jin is gently washing your sweaty, cum-splashed skin.

After you’re clean, the two men quickly suds themselves down. You spin between them as they lather, trading open-mouthed kisses. Their quick touches are only making your need even stronger, something that both men seem quite aware of as you whimper pitifully under their caresses.

“Poor baby’s still wound up, huh?” Jimin mutters into your neck, where he is busy leaving a love bite.

“Please,” you moan, puffing out your bottom lip. “I did what you told me to do!” You run your hands over Jimin’s chest, twirling his chain around your fingers. “Didn’t I do a good job? You both seemed to like it.” You flutter your eyelashes, laying it on real thick, and Jimin laughs.

“What do you think, hyung?” Jimin asks, shutting off the shower and reaching for the pile of towels outside the stall, handing you both one. “Does she deserve a reward now?”

“Mmmm, I don’t know,” Jin muses as he dries off. You toss your towel on the floor like the other two do and then follow them out of the bathroom and back into the dressing room. “I guess she was pretty good.” He takes a seat on a couch and stares at you with narrowed eyes. “Maybe a small treat?”

Jimin strolls over to the bar, pouring himself another shot. “Tell us what you want, brat.”

There’s only one thing you want right now. “I wanna cum. Please, sir,” you add as an afterthought.

“Do you think you deserve that?” Jin’s gaze feels like it burns through you as you nod vigorously. Absolutely you deserve it. Even if you broke their rule and touched yourself a little. They didn’t see you and you’re not about to say anything to prevent you from getting off right now.

“Yes. Please, sir.” You clasp your hands in front of you, peering at him with wide, innocent eyes. Somehow you assume that begging might help. “I’ll keep being a good girl, I promise. Please let me cum.”

“Hmmm.” Jin leans forward, a wicked glint in his eyes as he looks at Jimin. “I guess there’s no reason to deny such a sweet request….” The two men exchange a long glance before Jin nods.

“Alright. How do you want it, baby?”

“Yeah, what do you like? We’ll do whatever you want,” Jimin promises with an impish grin, sticking out his tongue. The long pink muscle reaches past his chin as he flicks the tip at you, and you don’t need to think for a second longer about what you’d like.

“Fuck, I want that,” you proclaim, pointing at him. “I wanna get off on your tongue.”

Jimin groans, one hand wrapping around your waist to pull you into a sloppy kiss. “Brat wants my tongue? Brat can have it.” He pushes you towards Jin, who reaches out to help you sit between his legs.

“Hands up here,” Jin orders you, lifting your arms and placing your hands on your head. “Only we can touch you. Got it?”

God, you hope that means they’re going to put their hands all over you. You’re ready to pop.

You lace your fingers together. “Yes sir.”

Jin’s large hands grip your thighs, spreading you for the other man to see. You’re completely exposed now, unable to hide any part of you, cunt bared and waiting.

Jimin drops to his knees. The thrumming desire that’s been building since you first deepthroated Jin is nearly unbearable at this point, and you squirm slightly against him as you watch Jimin eye you hungrily. After what feels like an eternity, he leans forward and presses a kiss to your dripping slit. He sucks slightly, lapping up your arousal, and you relax into Jin’s embrace as you sigh loudly.

“Is that what you needed?” Jin whispers in your ear. His mouth dances down your neck as Jimin finally extends his tongue and licks along your opening before plunging the wet muscle inside.

Your desire has driven you beyond words, so you can only moan and whimper as Jimin eats you out. Between his strong tongue and his plump lips, you’re in heaven, wriggling against Jin as Jimin suckles on your clit. As you shift, Jin’s chain bites into your skin, leaving tiny impressions of the metal up and down your back. Marking you up.

“Mmm, for such a bad girl, you do taste so sweet.” Jimin runs his tongue along the inside of your thigh, swirling through the wetness clinging there before sucking a hickey into the tender skin, and you mewl, desperately lifting your hips to urge him back to where you need him most.

Jin’s hands glide up your stomach to play with your breasts, kneading the firm mounds between his lithe fingers. He pinches your nipples, making you gasp. “You like that?” He does it again, and you feel him hardening against your lower back, letting you know that he’s enjoying it as much as you are.

“Y-yes,” you stutter, dropping your head against his shoulder, eyes closing. Jin removes his hands. “Yes, sir!” you quickly correct yourself, and he rewards you with another sharp tweak. “Fuck!” His teeth nip at your ear.

Your thighs twitch from the pleasure and pain, and Jimin holds one of your legs down to keep you from closing around his head.

“Getting close, brat?” he asks, breathing into your core as he nuzzles your clit.

“God, yes, sir!” You glance down and shudder helplessly at the sight of him, mouth and chin coated in your juices, sinful eyes observing your every move. His lips curl when he sees you watching him.

“Let me get you there, baby,” he rasps, and he sinks a finger into you. Then another.

“Shit!” His mouth, Jin’s mouth, their hands. It’s all too much, a tidal wave of pleasure washing over you. “I’m gonna, oh fuck, I’m gonna-”

Everything stops. Hands fall away. Mouths unlatch. Jimin sits back on his heels.

“Whaaa?” you cry, springing upright as your impending orgasm suddenly vanishes. “Why? I didn’t do anything, my hands are still up here!” You wave them in the air.

Jin’s laughter shakes your body. “Did you really think we didn’t see you in the shower, brat?” You twist to peer at him as he cackles.

Goddamn it. You thought you’d been so sneaky. Clearly not.

“We gave you one simple instruction and again you couldn’t follow it! You touched yourself, and then you expected us to reward you? For disobeying?”

You’re so frustrated, you could scream. Instead, you start to whine.

“I-it was just a little touch!” you protest petulantly. “I didn’t even get off! Barely an-ah!”

With a yelp, you rub the spot on your inner thigh where Jimin just slapped you. It doesn’t hurt as much as it shocks you.

“Little touch or not, you were told to keep your hands where Jimin put them. And you didn’t. So no more of that,” Jin points to Jimin, who licks his lips lasciviously, “for you.”

There’s a hissy fit rumbling inside you, but it’s drowned out by the way your pussy is still very loudly begging for their attention. You’re going to have to actually listen and obey if you want to get off, aren’t you? Time to swallow that pride.

“I’m-I’m sorry, sir,” you squeak out, turning to face the other man, hoping to find a sympathetic face. He’s been the softer of the two this whole time, so you’re disappointed to find that stern, appraising look on his face, the same one he’d used earlier when he was evaluating his chain.

“Only good girls get to cum,” Jimin informs you. “Do you know what bad girls get?”

Fuck, from his hard expression, you’re pretty sure it’s nothing good. And yet you’re certain you still want it.

“No, sir?”

“They get punished,” Jin answers. He slaps your ass, making you flinch. “Stand up, brat.”

You do as you're told. Both men rummage through one of the vanities, grabbing from a stash of condoms.

Hold up. Your punishment is for them to fuck you?

“You want to go first?” Jin asks his bandmate.

“Age before beauty, hyung.” Jimin laughs at Jin’s dirty look.

As you watch, wondering what’s about to happen, arousal building in anticipation once again, Jin strokes himself a few times before he rolls the condom down his hard length. He runs his hand through his still damp hair, giving it a little shake while he eyes you up and down. Then he resumes his seat on the couch. “Come here.” He pats his lap.

You straddle him, hands on his broad shoulders, hovering over his dick, slightly confused. This feels like a reward. You couldn’t be more elated at the moment, already soaking at the thought of both of them filling you up. But you don’t question them as you wait for Jin’s instructions.

He places a finger under your chin and tips your head up to look into his eyes. “You remember your safeword?”

“Yes sir. Alpaca.”

“Good.” Without any warning, Jin grabs your waist and guides you down onto his cock, burying himself to the hilt in one smooth move.

“Fuck!” You throw your head back as he immediately begins to pound into you, hands gripping your hips, thighs smacking your ass over and over as he sets a brutal pace. “Oh fuck!” Your hands flail, looking for something to grab onto. His body chain bounces against your torso, and you curl your fingers around the metal links, holding on for dear life.

“That’s it,” he huffs, exhaling loudly, “fucking take it, brat.” A sheen of sweat breaks out over his forehead as he thrusts away relentlessly.

“Oh god, oh fuck, Jin, that’s mmmph!” Your babbling ceases as Jimin suddenly sticks two of his fingers into your mouth.

“Suck, brat,” he commands, and you obey. You can’t see him, but you can hear his moans and the slick sound of his cock as he jerks off behind you.

As quickly as before, your climax approaches. When you start to clench around Jin, he snarls, “Not yet,” and he swiftly rolls you onto your back before he pulls out.

Goddamn it!

A loud, agonized wail leaves you as you feel another orgasm disappear, and the two men grin.

Jin holds out his hand and Jimin slaps it as the two men switch places. Jimin arranges himself over you on the couch, nudging your legs apart to lie between them.

Your frustration boils over.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you ask him. “Did you seriously just tag in?”

Jimin sighs, hooded eyes focused on your lips. “You know, I thought we did a good job earlier, washing your mouth out with our cocks, but there’s that sass again.” He finds the aching nub between your legs and gives it a firm pinch. You buck against his hand with a sharp inhale. “Guess we’ll have to try fucking it out of you instead. All night.”

He keeps his hand pressed against you, and you start to rut against it, eyes rolling back in your head as you huff, “Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Jin honks a squeaky laugh, and you tilt your head to glance at him. He’s reclining in a chair at one of the vanities, looking absolutely debauched with his glittering body chain in one hand and his still-hard cock in the other. “Oh, I don’t think she gets it yet, Jimin-ah. Why don’t you go ahead and show her?”

“Sure thing,” Jimin teases as he slides the tip of his wide cock inside you. He’s thicker than Jin, and the stretch has you gasping. Thankfully, Jimin takes his time, letting you adjust before he plunges forward. “Shit, so tight, baby.” As he bottoms out, he drops his head to kiss you, his long tongue seeking access to your mouth, which you grant happily.

Then he snaps his hips and you keen as he quickly matches the tempo Jin set earlier, pumping away mercilessly.

“When I say all night, I mean it, brat. But you’re not getting off. Not until we say so.” Jimin presses your thighs into your stomach, bending you in half. “Is that a good punishment for you, brat? Do you think you can handle it? If we fuck you like this, all night long?”

“Ah, ah!” What are words? All you know right now is touch, the sensation of Jimin’s cock stroking into you, his hands gripping your legs, his sweat dripping down your torso.

“Answer me,” he demands, gritting his teeth as he focuses on hitting that delicious spot inside you with every thrust. “Can you handle it, brat?”

Fuck yes, you can handle it, except no, you can’t. Your body is already nearing climax again, the tension in your gut so close to snapping that your toes are curling, and you honestly don’t know if you want him to stop or keep going. It’s crazy intense, the way they keep bringing you to your peak again and again. Maybe you can take it. Or maybe you’ll explode.

Either way, you want to find out.

“Fuck. Yes,” you finally pant out a reply, fingers digging into Jimin’s arms. “Sir.”

Jimin flashes you that crooked grin again, and just as you feel your crest arriving, he stills. You choke back a sob as he rises from the couch. If they want to keep edging you, fine. You’ll show them that you can take it.

Jin fucks you next, on the floor, on your hands and knees. Then Jimin has you ride him reverse cowgirl. Back and forth, taking turns, they bring you to the brink repeatedly. Their stamina is impressive. And fucking maddening. But you bear it all, eagerly taking every ounce of pleasure they offer, kissing, fondling, fucking you to the cusp again and again. With every lost orgasm, you moan and cry, but you don’t complain, hellbent on showing them that you can take your punishment.

“Okay, brat,” Jin finally croons much later as you’re bent over the bar counter, breasts jiggling into the cool marble while he pounds into you, “you’ve been such a good girl for us. I think it’s time for your reward.”

“Oh god, thank you,” you nearly weep, only for Jin to cease his pumping. “Fuck! Sir!” Goddamn that fucking word!

Jin laughs as he brushes your shoulder with a soft kiss. “It’s all right, I’m just moving you somewhere more comfortable.”

He tugs on your hand, leading you back to the couch. Jin guides you onto your hands and knees on the cushions as Jimin kneels in front of you, peeling off his condom & chucking it into the trash. “Think you can take me one more time?” Jimin asks, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip. You nod.

As your mouth parts to let him in, Jin pushes into you from behind. You rock forward, the momentum of Jin’s thrusts bobbing your head further onto Jimin’s cock. The angle of Jin’s rutting hits that soft spot inside you, exactly where you need him, and he slides a hand between your legs to rub at your clit, rolling the pearl between his nimble fingers.

“Mmmph!” you moan around Jimin, triggering a chain reaction of groans. First Jimin, who begins to thrust slightly erratically, his rhythm faltering, then Jin, as you bounce wildly back onto his cock. He tightens his grip on your hip, other hand still fondling you, and you whine as best you can with a mouthful of dick.

This time, when you start to clench around Jin, he doesn’t stop, continuing to drive into you and make you gag on Jimin. But it’s too much. The pressure is too extreme, feeling like you’re about to blow, and you feel it rising up in you, so close to bursting, so close so close -

You let go. Popping off of Jimin’s cock, you drop onto your elbows, burying your face in the couch cushion to sob with relief. Your cunt pulsates, walls squeezing Jin, and your eyes screw shut as you feel your release come flooding out. Jin groans, pulling out, ripping off the condom to pump into his tight fist.

You’re not sure how long you roll on the waves of ecstasy that sweep over you, but it’s long enough that you barely register both Jin and Jimin riding their own euphoria until you feel something land on your back, hot and sticky. Any other other time, a surprise cumshot would’ve led to you kicking some ass, but you’re so blissed out that you truly don’t care.

It’s been a while, but you’re pretty sure you just squirted all over the couch.

With your eyes still shut, there’s nothing but panting and your heart pounding in your ears for several minutes. Then you prop yourself back up on your hands, lifting your head to look at the other two.

“Good girl,” Jin gives you the warmest smile you’ve seen all night, hands soothingly tracing circles over your lower back. “You did so well for us, baby.”

“Took all that like a fucking champ.” Jimin adds. He touches your cheek lightly, a soft tap of affection, before he clambers off the couch and into the bathroom. When he returns with a wet cloth, he quickly wipes you clean of your release, and theirs.

Jin collapses onto the couch. You follow suit, letting him tuck you into his side. Jimin snuggles against you on the other side, laying his head on your shoulder. It’s a rather cozy arrangement, and you feel yourself relaxing completely, like a knot that’s been unwound.

“So,” Jin drawls, “did you learn your lesson?”

“Yeah,” you sigh happily, fighting the urge to fall asleep nestled between them.

Neither man speaks.

“Oh, goddamn it. Yes, sir.”

You’re jostled as both men shake with laughter. Jin drops a kiss on your temple. "Good girl."

There are lots of things about Hoseok that make him the perfect business partner. Like his incredibly sunny demeanor, which comes in handy with schmoozing clients and wheedling deals out of vendors.

Unfortunately, sometimes he directs that boundless sunshiny energy your way. Usually at the most annoying times of day, such as seven in the morning while you’re trying to sleep.

“Sugar!” Hoseok throws himself on your bed, waking you as he bounces. “Time to get up!”

“Why the fuck did I give you a key?” you grouse, rolling over and throwing an arm over your eyes.

“Because I’m your best friend. And because sometimes you require a hands-on wakeup call when you have a meeting before noon.”

“Hmmph.”

Hoseok isn’t just using “hands-on” as a clichéd descriptor, he means it, as he tickles you until you slap his fingers away and sit up.

“Okay, I’m up, fuck.” You yawn and stretch, but make no moves to get out of bed. “Did you at least bring–”

Hoseok points to a coffee cup sitting on your nightstand. He flops onto his back and pulls out his phone.

“God bless you, Jung Hoseok. You’re a saint among men.”

“I know,” Hoseok replies blithely, already scrolling through his texts as you wait for the caffeine to transform you back into a human again. “Hey, Yoongi wants me to thank you for helping out with his fuck-up yesterday. He sent a really apologetic note.”

You think back to the events of the previous evening. “Oh, no worries, it was my pleasure.”

Hoseok cocks an eyebrow at your unusually sweet response as he skims the message. “Let’s see - ‘Please let her know how much I truly appreciate her rolling with the band’s schedule. I know her time is valuable. Jin and Jimin both had nothing but the highest praise for her.’”

At the word “praise,” you feel a slight stirring in your gut, and smile into your sip of coffee.

“‘As a token of thanks, I’d like to invite her to join me at their concert Saturday night, as my guest. I’d love to show her my gratitude in person.’” Hoseok looks up at you with a ridiculous pout. “Damn, you must’ve really impressed him! Yoongi’s never given me a free ticket to one of their shows, and I’ve known him for nearly half my life!”

“Well, step up your game, Jung.”

Hoseok rolls his eyes, but he grins anyway. “He said he’ll leave your ticket at the will call window.” Hoseok glances at you again. “If you don’t want it, I’ll happily take it.”

Hmm. Well, you don’t have any plans for Saturday night, and the little bit of their music you heard yesterday you’d rather enjoyed. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad?

Maybe being Yoongi’s guest means the chance to go backstage after the show.

“You know what? I think I’ll go.”

A/N 2: Part 3? Coming? Someday??

Taglist: @theestrangeddreamer; @parkjiminxfloor; @underratedmisfit; @bangtanintotheroom; @fangirls94; @babycoffeefire; @parkdatjimin; @reliablemitten; @yuugehn; @ut-dixisti; @hesperantha; @seokjinger-ale; @taeshuworld; @nch327; @hannahbee12719ficrecs; @7minsuga96; @dvalitaes; @wonieclub; @thatlongspringnight; @miscelunaaa; @acquiescence804; @itsirisz; @velvetskize; @starbtslove; @ajw05; @bruisedscrewedandtattooed; @minesuga; @greezenini; @aznstoner; @jkkkkkay; @xuxibelle; @soeur-de-ame; @boraborabts; @signmybook; @bbl32; @codeinebelle; @here4btsfics; @itbtoblikethatsometimes; @kookprada

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wordsinhaled · 2 years

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Also. I gotta say. In my opinion, if you are born (even in the most eldritch sense of the word) and love and desire and cause problems because you had an emotion too hard, you count as a person. And I have Feelings, as someone in a "helping profession," about how utterly subsumed the Endless are in their duties. Like, sheesh, maybe it's what they were born to do, but what about hobbies? Work-life balance? Maybe they DO need a good lawyer.

yessss, hello fellow helping professional! high five! o/ we need a “helping professionals in sandman fandom” network, clearly! paging @dancinbutterfly for the vibes :D

i mean, if any of the endless have got it figured out it’s death. she knows how to be in the moment, live in the world, and experience things beyond her duty - even if it is tied to coping with the reality of doing her duty. she has the most Been to Therapy unconditional positive regard energy about her and it’s lovely.

and, like, how much of that comes from the overwhelm of perpetually holding space for the super existential experience of mortality? from the crushing realization of the transience of all beings? from being parentified because of how time and night totally fumbled their parenting? it would be an absolute mindfuck if she didn’t take her shoes off once in a while and touch grass, meet some people, understand what it’s all for.

death finds space for her emotionality and makes meaning of it within her purpose, which is ultimately to bear witness to the emotionality of others while allowing it to be in harmony with her own empathy.

*cough* death’s basically already a therapist in spirit, i’m just saying.

and yeah, dream is the opposite example—so consumed by his work and using his perception of his “purpose” and the laws of the universe as shields. because to allow himself to exist outside of that purpose means to admit vulnerability to extremes of emotion which are scary and uncomfortable. but dream’s purpose by definition, as it were, to steward the dreaming and guide all dreamers, isn’t necessarily a directive for him to be unemotional—this is something he imposes on himself to avoid big hurty feelings like rejection, heartbreak, loss.

he must understand emotions to fulfill his purpose, he feels them and knows them in the dreams of mortals, but keeps himself one step removed because Big Emotions are scary!!! and so he approaches them with this massive amount of squeamishness because how can he Be In The World and not become overwhelmed?

but the good emotions are so tempting! experiencing passion, love, being wanted; and then on a basic level, feeling acceptance, finding belongingness. things he has not had consistently in his hierarchy of needs. they feel good! there’s this part of him that surely thinks, could this not be for me, too? and stifles it with, no, my self-denial is a fitting punishment for the selfish nature i’ve been taught i possess. and he is so starved of these positive emotional experiences that when he allows himself to feel them he feels them with world-breaking intensity.

but is it selfish to want to feel? is it really? who taught you that? why do you not deserve the same care you show the dreaming? what does it mean about your entire self-concept if people actually care about you? if it isn’t true you’re alone in the world? how do you grapple with that? with the total upending of the entire worldview that keeps you safe from pain?

a mindfuck.

he needs a lawyer. he needs a therapy session (or a thousand of them). he needs to hang out with his sister more. he needs lots of hugs from hob. and he needs to feed the pigeons in the park, and watch shakespeare performances, and go down the pub with his very mortal immortal friend, and go to open mics, and look at street art, and live in the world, and be happy, and do more things “it g[ives] him pleasure so to do”

(also yes, this journey is What It Looks Like and i’ll just say i’d seriously consider crisis planning if he were a client)

#the sandman #dream of the endless

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sleepyomi · 1 year

Text

facetiming haikyuu boys (karasuno’s version)

a/n: i sadly do not know the 2nd years well enough to do them besides noya and Tanaka so my apologies!! everyone else is included.

tw: none besides mild language.

hinata —

immediate motion sickness. he’s so excited you called but will automatically get up assuming you’re calling him to meet up, and once he’s up, he’s jumping around. is also v likely screaming into the mic so good luck babes!!

kageyama —

not happening. either because he doesn’t get why you’re calling instead of texting so he’ll send you a “what” instead of answering, or will go to answer, accepts the call, and then hangs up accidentally in the same 5 seconds. you’re better off just texting him.

tsukishima —

is very blatantly doing something else on his phone while calling you. all you see is his forehead and he responds super dryly the entire time. “what do you want?”/“mhm”/“okay” man does not seem to have a care in the world but if you say it’s important, he’ll look up and actually listen but if not.. welp.

yamaguchi —

social anxiety to the max unless he’s comfortable w/ you. if not, he’ll probably just text you but if he is, he’ll pick up! he’s the type to multitask when on the phone, so he’ll be talking to you while also sending you tiktoks and answering your snaps, this man is busy but when you have his attention you get ALL of it, just in multiple forms. he always has something fun to talk to you about and will happily listen to you talk abt your day.

yachi —

poor babes is an anxious wreck. she’ll probably not answer in time because she’s overthinking it but it she does, she is the sweetest to ft! she’ll prop her phone up around her and give you her full attention, always enthusiastically responding to whatever you tell her and nodding along. if you let her carry the convo, give her a second to calm down, but will happily talk to you for hours.

noya —

always answers, even in class, which is why he’s had his phone taken on numerous occasions. if he’s up and moving about, get ready because he’s not gonna put you down and motion sickness will be a thing TM so good luck, but if he’s not, he’ll either hold his phone if in bed or prop you up against something if elsewhere. is the type to complain if you don’t show your face but if you do, he’ll compliment it the second he picks up. king of ft screenshots whether because he finds you pretty or for blackmail, screenshots will be taken.

tanaka —

facetimes you out of nowhere all the time lmao. at least once a day. he’s the one to call but he’ll always ask after you, seeing how you’re day went, making sure you ate, if you need anything, just super sweet all around. if you’re busy and hang up soon or don’t answer, he’ll always text you to “call me later, hope your days going great!” will try to make plans while you’re on the phone but forgets to write them down so you’re having to remind him day of lmao

sugawara —

little shit. if he knows you’re supposed to be doing something, will NOT pick up and instead text you giving you shit about procrastinating. if you’re not busy, he probably is ngl. He’s the type to prop you up on his desk while he’s working, and talk to you about anything and everything. you will literally talk for hours before this man hangs up, and half the time he’ll force you to do it instead because he doesn’t want to. is the type to facetime you if you’re eating at work or something so that you can do it together!

asahi —

another anxious one. he picks up every time, but all you see is his forehead if he’s focusing on you or the ceiling is he’s busy or self conscious. he’ll listen to what ever you’re saying, but doesn’t really put in his input unless asked, typically just humming along. the sweetest goodbyes though. he’ll always make sure to wish you a good day and make plans to call or meet up later.

daichi —

he either answers when you call or an hour later when he finally checks his phone. it’s not malicious, he’s just busy between school and being captain of the volleyball team. when he calls he always tries to give you his full attention, but that rarely last long lmao. if he gets interrupted he always makes sure to tell you though and will call back when immediately finished with whoever it is he was helping.

kiyoko —

she like daichi, isn’t on her phone too much, but will try to answer if she’s sees it. if she doesn’t, she’ll send a lil “??” to check in but rarely initiates a call after missing one. she’s not too talkative on phone calls but will happily talk with you if you need her too. usually just hums along with what you’re saying, and wish you goodbye before you hang up.

do not edit, claim, or repost this work as per @sleepyomi

#haikyuu!!#hq!!#haikyuu x reader #hinata shoyuo #kageyama tobio #yamaguchi tadashi #tsukishima kei #yachi hitoka #nishinoya yuu #sugawara kōshi #daichi sawamura #asahi azumane #kiyoko shimizu #tanaka ryuunosuke

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toomanyanimefanfics · 2 years

Note

could you write the MHA students / pro heros reacting to an autistic mc major stimming in front of them for the first time? Like a neutral faced, monotone talking MC suddenly bursting with energy with hand flaps and squeals, rocking back and forth and such.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Hi anon, I absolutely can! I've made this request into two parts once again, with the students here and the teachers in a part 2! And because you didn't specify s/o or relations I've made this post platonic but if you wanna read them as s/o then go for it. Part 2 with pro-heroes: Eraser Head // Present Mic // Fat Gum ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stimming in front of them

Headcanons for the main three students: Midoriya:

The first time this situation happens in front of him he doesn't really catch on to anything major, his first instinctive thought is: ‘oh i guess something suddenly grabbed their excitement, that's why they seem bouncy all of the sudden’

He's also one to go from mumbling idly into his own collar with almost a resting concentration face that seems off putting to immediately lifting up in an excited smile the moment something has triggered that dopamine hit whether he's aware of it or not.

The more it happens around him the more he just points it towards your general character, he doesn't find it off putting or weird, he just sorta views it almost like it didn't happen at all.

All signs sorta point that he goes through similar moments and probably doesn't even realize that's why he doesn't really notice it as ‘off’

When he does really notice it, he mostly thinks over it in his own head and is not one to voice it unless you bring it up in conversation or verbally acknowledge it.

Honestly once he really gets it, he doesn't even bat an eye. Why would he see you any differently? This new information doesn't mean you’re suddenly different from who he already knows.

But he low key thinks it's super endearing when you get the hand flaps, especially when you stim when happy or excited. It immediately brings his mood up when he sees you stim like that. It's a nice flip from the often monotone vibe that you often wear.

(sometimes he ends up mirroring your stims, not in a mocking way, but I do headcanon him as someone who would stim even without knowing it)

Bakugou:

Read izukus? Cool, forget all of that.

He's more brash about it, but not necessarily in a negative way, i mean he grew up with Midoriya so he’s now desensitized by most ‘abnormal’ or sudden bursts of stim like moments.

The first time it happened he most definitely noticed and you noticed how quickly he reacted to it. He definitely pointed it out too, which made you feel a bit apprehensive about explaining it or carrying on.

But even though he has a bigger reaction than Midoriya he doesn't single you out on it or hold it against you at all. In Fact he's mostly indifferent.

Once he's already used to it, he doesn't even notice it. In Fact if you’re happy bouncing and letting out super happy shrieks he will often ask what made you so happy or what your stims are reactions too (if any).

If you’re more self conscious about stimming in public or even out in school grounds, he's a silent guard dog and will bark off anyone that looks at you weird or tries to negatively point it out.

Todoroki:

Shoto's sort of confused at first, he hasn't ever been around anyone that shows or regulates their feelings that way, so he immediately ends up asking a lot of questions about it, he's not trying to be rude or upsetting, but sometimes his bluntness and monotone voice also can be hard to read.

The switch from your typical, monotone and neutral nature seems almost like a separate person to the one he just noticed and he definitely notices even if he doesn't immediately react at the time.

The first time it happened he thought it was ‘weird’, just because of how he was raised and his lack of showing emotion physically, he seemed really overwhelmed to him and he struggled with how to act or how to carry on any conversation you two were having.

However, if you sit him down and tell him, he’ll absolutely listen and try to understand, he doesn't ask a lot of questions as you explain and just stores the new information away.

Like bakugou, if he notices you stimming he’ll often ask if there's a reason you’re stimming. Often asks what's your favourite or most frequent stim and smiles softly to himself if he sees you from afar stimming, off in your own little world. Part 2 Here ------------------------------------------------- A/N: sorry this took a bit, got mad writers block this week and started to feel as if all the Headcanons were beginning to sound repetitive so I tried to re-write this a few times!! I do hope its okay anon! I'll link Part 2 here when its up! Slowly starting to empty and reply to all the requests in my inbox so hold tight!

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madaboutmunson · 3 months

Text

Let me hear you speaking just for me - Part B

This was a pretty long chapter so I've split it in two just for ease of reading :)

I Think I Could Have Been Someone - Chapter 7b

Ao3 Link

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Link to fic overview and all parts

Chapter Summary: Eddie gets the chance to interview Steve for his book.

Author Notes: This is a mature story, definitely 18+ only.

Tags/Warnings: rockstar!AU; band; touring; music industry; alternate universe; drug usage; alcohol abuse; performing; enemies to lovers; road trip; stobin; platonic stobin; platonic with a capital P;

Word Count: 6.2K

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

“Is that what your book is gonna be about?” He asks, sitting back in his chair. Eddie fusses nervously with his notepad and looks down at the blank page. Now, he’s been asked outright about the book's subject. It almost feels a little vulnerable.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been collecting pictures of artists, and I ask them all the same question, and the intention is to show a truth through words and the photographs,” Eddie looks up to find he has Harrington’s undivided attention, and that also feels a little strange, unnerving but not totally unpleasant. The admission of that in itself was weird, “Money and fame are great motivators, but not like music, right? People still make music even when those other things are no longer around. So I figured it would be interesting to see how artists felt about it at all different levels of fame.” Harrington tilts his head but says nothing, and Eddie feels like the quiet and his stare are pulling the words out of him, “So you are a huge star, right? Like, a household name, so you’d be in there, but then I also have my Uncle in there who has only ever played at an open-mic night once because I was too nervous about getting up there on my own when I was a kid. He has, like, zero interest in music being anything other than a source of enjoyment for himself. Even if he is pretty damn good, actually.” Eddie smiles fondly at the W on the inside of his wrist and brushes his thumb over it.

“Can I think about it a little while?” Harrington asks with his eyebrows slightly pushed together, and Eddie realises he’s said too much, but he would have expected Harrington to mock him for it, not whatever this was.

“Yeah, sure, uh, maybe we could, um…” Eddie looks at his other questions that lead on from that one. Most people just say music is everything to them and gush about their favourite band or the first time they heard a particular song or their first gig. Harrington's ringed hand waves near his face before he can decide the next course of action.

“Thought I’d lost ya there,” he chuckles, “Tell me to shut up if you need to, but I think I could offer some pointers if you want?” He holds up his hands in submission, “But I don’t wanna tread on your toes,” Harrington looks up into his eyes with a smile, “I just really wanna help you out, Eddie. In any way I can, you know?” his head tilts to the other side as he pours himself back into his seat, spreading his knees further apart.

Eddie does not want to admit defeat on his project, and it didn't seem like Harrington was trying to sabotage it with his delay in answering the question. It felt almost like he wanted to consider it more carefully, which was unexpectedly kind of him. But, the realist in Eddie knows that if he gets off this plane without the answer, he might never get the chance once they touch down. Logically, he recognises Harrington does these things all the time. He knows how these things go, “You know what, sure. Why not?” Eddie smiles with a light laugh. In for a penny, in for a pound, he figures.

“Good. That's good,” Harrington praises, which also feels strange to Eddie. He didn't want this guy’s approval, right? Did he? No, that's ridiculous. “So tell me, Eddie, how many of these books do you wanna sell?”

“What? Like a number?” Eddie asks, a little confused.

“Just a kinda idea, that's all. So I know what you’ll need, in respect to my fans anyway,” Harrington says, putting down his drink and turning back to Eddie, “That's why you want me in the book, right? So, my fan base buys it? You don't give the impression of being an avid fan of mine,” He adds with a smirk, and that gives Eddie the distinct impression he’s aware that this whole contract was essentially a mutual use of one another.

“I want to sell as many as I can, and yes, shamefully, appealing to your fan base is part of that,” Eddie says with a small smile.

“Nothing to be ashamed of. It's just business,” Harrington smiles at him and looks around the small area, “Bring your camera,” he says as he gets out of his seat and moves to one of the plainer parts of the section, “Easier to edit out if it's less busy I figured,” Harrington says as he observes the light on his hand and seems to try and find an acceptable place to stand before untucking his shirt.

“Hey! Wait, whoa, what are you doing?” Eddie blurts out, nearly dropping his equipment in a sort of panic. Why was he getting undressed? This was not that kind of book.

Harrington laughs, “Just take the pictures, would ya?” He turns around, his back to Eddie. He pulls the shirt up and ducks his head, revealing a substantial menacing wolf tattoo and cute text stamp of ‘Wild Thing’ on his lower back and the ribcage heart on his arm.

Eddie obliges and takes numerous shots as Harrington slightly repositions himself and the shirt to make it look as though he’s been caught in the middle of undressing. It felt very much like a voyeur shot, especially when he ducks his head to hide his face.

Eddie’s alarmed reaction causes the curtain to flick open and Jesse’s head to pop out, but he only glances at Eddie to assess the situation and then sends his gaze and smirk towards Harrington’s exposed torso.

“Hey,” Eddie pretty much barked at Jesse, “consider this a closed set. He’s half undressed,” and whilst Eddie knows that is said mainly out of jealousy, he would do the same for anyone he was in a shoot with. It’s always felt like his responsibility as a photographer to keep his subjects feeling safe so they could open up to the camera.

“Easy there, big dog,” Harrington laughs, “Maybe if he’s gonna gawk, he can make himself useful.” Harrington removes the top entirely and throws it at a giggling Jesse, who fumbles to catch it.

Harrington stands one hand on his hip, the other beckoning to Eddie, “Dude, my ego isn’t gonna withstand it if you don’t get that lens back on me.”

This isn’t a side of Harrington Eddie had expected to see, acknowledging his persona, playful, knows his craft and public. Though loathe to admit it, he didn’t mind this peek into his other aspects.

“Sorry,” Eddie says, looking between them, “It's just habit. Protecting my models, I mean.”

Harrington’s eyes widen briefly, “Well, I wasn’t expecting that kind of forcefulness from you, but from our last meeting, there was a hint that you could be a bit of a spitfire,” he smirks mischievously and then tilts his head and plunges his hands into his back pockets, “I’m ok though, more than used to it. No harm in having fun when doing these things unless that would interfere with your process?” Eddie observes him, and he’s almost softer somehow. He’s pliant with what Eddie wants to achieve, and honestly, he didn’t look bad doing it in a certain light. Eddie brushes that off again. He didn’t like Harrington, not like that. It was just another model body. Eddie adjusted the camera settings, focusing on the wolf tattoo as Harrington turned around again. "That ink's impressive. Gotta story behind it?"

“Oh, you know, typical rebellion, my body is my own, I’m a lone wolf, bullshit,” Harrington answered lazily, striking a few poses as Eddie snapped away.

Eddie chuckles, “Lone wolf? Are you ever truly alone? I can’t imagine that you are.”

Harrington laughs, “Oh, brace yourself for the cringiest truth,” he looked back over his shoulder at Eddie, “It’s possible to feel entirely alone with a room full of people,” he turned around and shrugged, “Sounds stupid. I know.”

Eddie knew that feeling only too well in the fallout of his failing business. He’d felt very much like that. People just didn’t get him or wouldn’t listen, so he felt incredibly alone and cut off whilst still going through the motions of being there.

He feels a slight tug on his sympathy. Two men, two very different paths, both ended up feeling exactly the same for a time. He hears his Dad’s voice in his head calling him a pushover, but he’d rather be a pushover any day of the week than what he became for a time.

“Everything ok, Eddie?” Harrington asks with what sounds like genuine concern, and Eddie nods with a crooked smile, “Good, thought I’d lost you for a second there,” Harrington smiled at him, and it looked concerned and laced with something Eddie couldn’t quite figure out.

“What about your other tattoos?” Eddie tries to shift the conversation back to something safe.

Harrington turns around and poses for Eddie to capture the few tattoos on his body. For the most part, it turned out the tattoos were essentially meaningless other than Harrington was claiming back a bit of himself with each one. It’s not a big deal now, but for a time in product advertising or acting roles, tattoos were generally not welcomed. So, with every tattoo he went out and got for himself, it was a piece of Harrington they couldn’t sell that he could keep covered up.

Eddie couldn’t imagine being treated like that. Like a piece of land, a show pony, or a billboard. Harrington assures him that most artists go through it at some point when the people who funded them want to reap the harvest. With Harrington, who’d been lucky enough to have been brought up around money and got some pretty pricey people to look over his contract, he wasn’t as over a barrel as most eager wide-eyed artists are money-wise, but not even that could help with paying back what he owed, and the louder Harrington was about supporting specific causes, which he saw as human rights, the sooner they wanted to be paid back.

It started with the text on his lower back that reads ‘Wild Thing.’ at the time, he was trying to make a statement. Now, it just makes him laugh.

The Slayer tattoo on his lower abdomen was another joke. He’d been touted in the papers as some kind of playboy whose dick put women under some sort of obsessive spell. It was total bullshit. He wasn’t dating any more people than the average person his age, and one at a time, but the paparazzi and gossip columns kept screwing things up for him, so his romances were short-lived. He walked into a tattoo shop, saw the word Slayer and decided that was the tattoo for him. Even though he had no clue who the band was.

Many years later, that did bite him in the ass pretty hard, though, once tattoos became a little more embraced, they started appearing in his pictures. His fans caught wind of it, thought it was a band Harrington liked, found out about the band and although very popular as they were on the metal scene, it brought the band into the mainstream again for a year or two, by a pocket of his fans getting into them too. So, in the midst of this, Slayer invited him to play with them. This began a month-long crash course of all things Slayer for Harrington, and he actually became a fan.

“No way, man!” Eddie gasped, completely amazed. “I can’t believe you got to play with one of my favourite bands!”

Some refilled drinks had appeared, but Eddie had hardly noticed them being topped up after they’d sat down and Harrington had gotten dressed again.

“Hey, if we get these projects tied up nicely, I’d gladly give their people a call for you. They’re real awesome guys,” Harrington beams at him.

The heart-shaped rib cage on his arm was something again he rolled his eyes at. When Eddie pushed, he simply said, “Matters of the heart aren’t always as soft and pliant as we might have been taught.”

The last tattoo on the list is the heart gramophone in the centre of his chest. “What about that one? That has to be the most unusual out of the lot,” Eddie points the end of his pencil toward the centre of Harrington's chest, where he can just make out the tattoo through the sheer shirt. Harrington smiles, and it feels genuine and if Eddie didn't know any better, almost impressed. “Yeah, this design was a collaboration. It’s kind of a tribute to a song that saved my life and also a reminder, “ Harrington smiled, and it wasn’t one of his smirks. It doesn't look like the type Eddie has seen in photographs of him. It looks real. “It’s also kind of the answer to your question, actually.”

Eddie notices he’s on the edge of his seat, pencil poised against his notepad. This flight had been quite the reveal. He wasn’t best buddies with Harrington or anything, but finding him helpful and pleasant to be around had helped Eddie soften towards him, which was paying off. The less Eddie bristled, the less Harrington hid behind his image.

“My Slayer educational journey opened me up to listening to more heavy music, and exploring that genre was interesting. Turned out I’m not a super thrashy guy, but I appreciated it. From that, I started to listen to Metal that was born during my era, ya know. I found that Nu Metal stuff,” Harrington stops and looks at Eddie like he’s reading him.

“Yeah, I know that genre. It’s kinda my era too, but I am very much a thrash guy also,” Eddie smiled as if to reassure him he could carry on.

Harrington looks him over and relaxes back in his seat, “Well, I heard this song by Korn called Twisted Transistor and apart from literal parts of the lyrics,” he laughed, “It very much resonated with me.”

Eddie watches Harrington swallow, and his arms wrap around himself subtly, “So, in answer to your question, it’s not really what music means to me. It’s very much that I don’t feel I could survive without it. It’s caught me so often when I was free-falling into the depths. The right song at the right time can be a lifeline, you know?”

That only intrigued Eddie more. What the hell happened to this guy? Is he just talking about overindulging and pushing too hard, or was it something much less hedonistically caused than that?

“And I also felt that music gave me one way I could really express myself. Even if it has to be heavily coded sometimes,” Harrington gives him a shrug of a smile.

Eddie can see that vulnerable look on Harrington and decides to change the subject. He has his answer for the book. “I remember you going through that phase,” Eddie grinned, “It made the news for weeks, that photoshoot and music video reveal.”

Harrington hums, “Yeah, it did, didn’t it?” And Eddie almost feels like maybe that might not have been what it seemed.

Eddie puts down his notepad, but the dictaphone is still running. He and Harrington talk about music, their favourite artists, first and favourite gigs, guilty pleasures and phases, and before he knew it, the time was up. A huge surprise to himself, but he was disappointed the conversation was over.

“You’ll have to return to your seat now, Mr Munson,” Jesse advises, whom Eddie had utterly forgotten about for a while.

“Oh shit, yeah, of course,” Eddie said urgently as he scrambled to get his equipment together and packing it away to take back to his seat.

Once packed up, he turned to Harrington, “Thanks for your time, Harrington. It was a pleasure,” and he meant that. Maybe his therapist was right. He felt lighter for letting go of all that hate for a little while.

“It really was,” Harrington beams at him and stands up to shake his hand.

As Eddie turns to head back through to the other section, he feels a tug on his sleeve. He’s half expecting to see Jesse, but he knows as he turns from that heady cologne it’s Harrington.

“So when we get back to the hotel, you’ve got your pick of where to stay from what’s available, but if you don’t like anything on offer, my suite has multiple bedrooms, and you’re welcome to one if you need it.” Harrington offers, and Eddie is almost floored by it.

“Uh, well, I kinda like to have my own room, in case of different, uh, schedules,” Eddie says. He didn’t want to seem ungrateful for the offer, but he didn’t want to be kept up all night by Harrington and friends.

Harrington tilts his head and smiles, “Yeah, that’s fair. How about we go through the photos and the checklist for the residency later? Drinks on me,” he laughs, and it’s fucking charming. The checklist has been signed off, and maybe Harrington is just looking for another way to hang out with him, and he guesses he understands that, in respect of he’s enjoyed their interactions today. The more amiable they were, the better this project would turn out, and after what he learned today, it sounded like they both really needed that.

“It would be a fantastic opportunity for me to finally be able to give back. You’ve been helping me for years,” Harrington’s eyes flick to his and then back out the window.

“What?” Eddie frowns in confusion.

“I have a picture you took of me, and I,” he looks at the ground for a spell, his hands on his hips. He looked embarrassed but built himself up to say, “I felt you captured me in that shot, like my very soul in that moment in time.” He shook his head with a soft laugh, “That’s why I’ve been bugging you for years to work with me. I wanted to be around someone who really saw me, just like you did in that picture.” Harrington shifted his weight from one leg to the other, “It helped me feel less disconnected when I’d look at it.” Eddie sees another odd thing, Harrington gives him an awkward smile. The kind that people give you when they already know you're about to reject them somehow.

Eddie ponders that maybe this photograph he enjoyed so much didn’t hold the weight for Eddie that Harrington thought it did, but that was pretty normal in his photography experience. He didn’t look at every family portrait he’d taken and gush with pride like the family did when they looked at it. Maybe this time around, he could genuinely capture some magic if he got to know Harrington a little more. Today hadn’t been so bad at all.

“You know what, yeah, that would be really helpful, thanks,” Eddie smiled.

Harrington’s face erupts into the biggest grin he’s seen to date, and he wishes he hadn’t packed his camera away, “Great, see you later then, Eddie,” he flicks his hand in a wave, and they both return to their seats.

Eddie sits in his seat and sighs contentedly as the seatbelt sign lights up. Maybe it didn’t need to be such a chore. When a flight attendant comes around to check his belt, they also hand him another notecard, which he opens quickly. It has a telephone number, a smiley face, and ‘Harrington’ written, not signed, underneath it.

Upon landing, there is a very direct split in the people on the plane. The majority of people, including himself, are requested to remain in their seats. Harrington is swamped by security and bustles through their section, quickly off the plane first. That makes sense, Eddie thinks. He’s gotta beat the crowds and get to the hotel.

As the plane door opens, Eddie hears the crowd's noise, a mixture of cheers, screams and the shutter clicking, and this is on the tarmac. He hasn’t even got down the stairs. The shades of his and some of the security’s sunglasses show their purpose as the flashes go off. So many Eddie thinks their lenses look like star-crowded skies, but there was only one star in which anyone else was interested.

A few minutes after Harrington has descended into the chaos, one of the lesser security team members appears back through the door and waves everyone else off the plane, down the stairs and towards a small executive coach.

Once everyone is in their designated seats, they all have a small gift bag with their hotel key card, an overpriced designer bottle of water, some towelettes to freshen up with, and some snacks already inside.

The security member stands at the front of the coach and pushes her shades on top of her head, “Ok, everyone, we’ve got a mix of veterans and newbies to the Harrington convoy, so I’m just gonna go over this for ya. Please give me a minute of your attention. It's super simple.”

“Mr Harrington, as you can see, is currently running distraction for us,” she gestures out the tinted window to where Harrington is still signing things and taking pictures, much to Eddie’s surprise, “But he can’t do this all day, so our side of the operation has to be slick,” she says looking around the coach as the driver starts it up, “So let’s keep it simple, go where I tell you without argument if you have a problem between here and your hotel room I’m your point of contact. Once in your rooms, please stay put until we call you to notify you the area is cleared down. There will be fans and professionals alike trying to infiltrate the hotel to get at Mr Harrington or information on the upcoming performances, so consider this your first reminder that strangers aren’t your friends on this trip.”

As the coach finally departs the tarmac to head for the exit, she smiles at them, “That might sound a little restrictive in principle, but it’s for your safety and the safety of others. However, for the duration of your stay, you can consider yourselves under the Harrington family umbrella,” That gets an excitable buzz throughout the vehicle that confuses Eddie, and a handful of others clearly don’t understand the significance of that either.

The security team member smiles at the puzzled faces, “Anything you need during your stay, anything at all,” she emphasised with a smirk, “Is on Mr Harrington or the label. When you get to your rooms, the number for your point of contact will be taped next to your phone. For any room service or housekeeping, you can call down to the front desk.”

She pulls her sunglasses back down, “And last of all, remember to have fun,” she smiles and disappears into her seat to applause.

It only took around fifteen minutes to get to the hotel, but they were to remain seated as their luggage was retrieved. They were assured it would be returned to them shortly and to just go to their room and wait for the call.

Eddie finds his room without trouble. He finds the number taped next to his phone and notices a key with a different room number on it.

He walks around his sizeable room, reclines back on the bed, and watches TV while waiting for a call or his luggage to arrive.

Twenty minutes and a knock on the door, Eddie is reunited with his luggage and work gear. He stops the security guy before he leaves, “Uh, I think someone left another key in here, but the number on it isn’t to this room,” Eddie says, gesturing towards the phone.

“Oh sure, yeah, that’s to Mr Harrington’s suite. He wanted to make sure if you changed your mind about the entourage rooms or wanted to catch some more candid shots, you had the access to do so. The number on it is just a decoy-type thing. Probably a good idea to reassure him you got it,” he nodded, “Anything else I can help you with?”

Eddie shakes his head, “No, that’s great, thanks,” he smiles and closes the door behind the security guy as he leaves.

Eddie takes out his phone and the note card in his pocket and messages Harrington.

I got the key card and gift bag. Thanks. Let me know if you still wanna go through the photographs later. If not, it's understandable. It looked crazy out there! Eddie

Moments later, his phone pings. It’s Harrington.

No problem, buddy. It might be fairly late, though. I got a few interviews and hotel obligations before I’m free. Steve 🙂

Cool. Let me know when you’re free, Eddie replied

Eddie spends the next hour or so making some barely edited versions of the shoot on the plane. Just making them look less flat and adjusting some aspects of the lighting to make the tattoos really pop.

He can’t hear much outside noise in the hotel room, but Harrington must be here now as there is some kind of kerfuffle outside, which is enough to shatter the peaceful sanctuary of his room. Eddie gets up from his desk and takes a peek.

The relatively busy road they had travelled to get to the hotel was at a standstill. Someone was trying to redirect the traffic because a solid wall of fans was going partway across. The two lines that look like they are coming out of the hotel, which he imagines but be more fans flanking the hotel entrance, it was challenging to say for sure at this height.

Soon, the outlines of the crowd start to be bitten into by sharp, bright white stars. Like popcorn, there are few at first until the area is almost entirely flooded by repeated small explosions of light, and then they die out. Just like the main chunk of the crowds until barriers are gone and traffic flows as usual.

A while after the phone rings in Eddie’s room, a member of security advises him he’s free to roam freely around the hotel and its pool, theatre, casino, and stores.

He does just that, but his mind is plagued by the conversation on the plane, how he diverted the press and fans, and the hospitality in general. He had the whole plane in the same hotel as he was, and whilst Eddie chugs a cocktail slushie that he didn’t have to pay for because it’s all taken care of, he paces around the slot machines, and wonders if Harrington was truly as awful as he’d built him up to be. It’s not like he knew about the aftermath.

He turns a corner and comes face to face with a life-size Harrington cut-out, directing anyone with his charming half smile to check out the all-new Harrington-themed slots. Eddie blinks a few times, shakes his head, and returns to his room. There really isn’t anything they wouldn’t put him on.

Eddie’s phone goes off several hours later, and he wakes still wrapped in the robe from after his bath and a plate of green stalks from the chocolate-covered strawberries he had treated himself to.

He blindly reaches for his phone to find a message from Harrington.

I’ll be ready in 20 if you still wanna hang out.

Eddie goes into full panic; he thought the lack of messages throughout the evening meant he wasn’t going to be available, yet at nearly midnight, he’s carved out some time for Eddie.

He scrambles to get ready but then thinks better of it and texts back a much more relaxed message than he actually feels.

Yeah, cool. See you then.

Nearly twenty minutes later, Eddie finds him outside the door of Harrington’s suite. Buckley is right next to the door, and a few members of her team line the hall. Eddie gives her a nod and a forced smile of greeting. In return, she raises an eyebrow and turns away again.

She held her earpiece momentarily and then turned to Eddie, “You can go in.” She says simply, and Eddie does as he’s told.

He walks in to find Harrington in a different set of Rockstar attire. Another set of clothes can be seen slung over a chair, some blue jeans and a white T-shirt. Staple Harrington uniform. That’s how he looked on most of his albums and tours, not this dark, brooding version of himself.

“Hey man,” Harrington says almost pleasantly, not the couldn’t care less greetings he’s had before, “Didn’t know if it was gonna be too late for you?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Eddie says with a laugh. He’s not even sure why he does that, “Thought you might be wiped from the day.”

“I’m used to it, plus I’ve kinda been looking forward to this,” Harrington says with a small smile, “We got a full bar of drinks, and I can order some food if you're hungry. Just help yourself to whatever you want, you know?” He leans a bony hip against a table and gestures around before his hand migrates naturally back to his hip.

They while away the next half hour chatting about music, looking through Eddie’s pictures of other artists, and talking through Harrington’s expectations for the checklist of photos.

Eddie, weirdly again, is enjoying his company, or maybe it's the energy drink he’s gulping down?

“Hey, could I see the ones you took of me last time? Could you talk me through ‘em?” Harrington asks with hopeful eyes, his hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Yeah, of course. I mean, my work has improved since then, but I still have them,” Eddie says, leaning over to find the correct folder.

Scrolling through hundreds of photos is pretty fun. Harrington makes a few self-deprecating jokes about how he looks now compared to then. But Harrington's mood drops as they move into more backstage candid shots. Eddie knows he could completely ignore it, and he tries to a few times, distracting him with anecdotes, but Harrington will reopen the same picture repeatedly. It’s that same barrier shot, and he’ll look at it, then Eddie, but say nothing, and it’s confusing as hell and a little annoying. So Eddie bites the bullet.

“You don’t like some of these shots or something?” Eddie asks cautiously, “I mean, feedback is feedback. It will help me ensure I don’t make the same mistakes twice.”

Harrington furrows his brow in confusion, “It’s not your work, Eddie, that’s great. It’s just,” he stops himself from the next thing he’s about to say and huffs in frustration, “You can’t make the same mistakes again, because those people aren’t around anymore. Fucking assholes. Traitors!” Harrington seethes, and he brings up the same barrier shot again.

Eddie feels like something is unspoken, and he keeps moving back to this picture where he thinks he saw him for who he truly was. But Eddie had just taken a tried and tested shot.

“I’m surprised this one is your favourite. It was everywhere at one point,” Eddie tries to lighten the mood.

“Was it? I wouldn’t know. They took all my social media away from me,” Harrington grumbles, and Eddie can see him slowly sinking in on himself.

“Yeah, man it was on every kind of merch and your posts, fan stuff, news articles everywhere. But I guess you wouldn’t have seen the full impact of it without socials.”

“It fucking sucks sometimes, you know? Getting treated like a fucking kid. Being pushed and paraded around like a living fucking billboard for whoever is throwing their money at us that week. This life is fucking gross sometimes,” Harrington complains.

Eddie can’t help but feel how easily he’d give up most things to be as rich as Harrington. He’d kick the fame stuff to the curb and just disappear with a boatload of cash, flipping everyone the bird goodbye.

“I mean, that sure sounds like it’s sucked, but it could have been worse, dude,” Eddie says, consoling him a little bit, also trying to get him out of this side of himself that is slowly grinding on Eddie.

Harrington huffed out a laugh, “Really? Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to have that happen, like explaining to your peers, ‘Oh, I’d love to promote your charity, but my socials are run by that eighteen-year-old cyborg in the corner because they are viewed as more responsible than me’? Or worse, fans asking me questions at panels that I have no idea how to answer because I have never seen whatever post they are referencing?” Harrington looks annoyed almost, “Then I get labelled as high or drunk or worst of all that I don’t give a shit.”

Eddie has an excellent idea of what it’s like to have something hit him out of nowhere, the source of which is a post he had no idea about. Eddie’s lip twitches and he is about to suggest looking at some of the pics he took at an open mic night a few months back, but Harrington is still going.

“And for what? I got a little wasted one night and posted a rant video. Like, who gives a shit? There are people out there who do way worse and keep their socials. They get fully cancelled and then turn up a month later, and everyone forgets about it! That’s just the modern world! People just need to suck it up!” Harrington spouts from his imaginary soap box.

Eddie's relaxed hands are balled fists, his smile is a tight line, behind it a set of gritted teeth on a clenched jaw.

This guy is precisely the privileged prick he thought he was. Unaware of the consequences of his actions. They’ve been hidden from him so well that he’s complaining that they didn’t let him get drunk all the time and spout his unfounded woes night after night to the public. Eddie wished his biggest problem was being unable to retweet his friend’s dog’s wedding pictures.

Eddie is livid and feels like he has a chance to stand up for everyone Harrington has potentially bulldozed in the past without a care in the world about who he affected.

Keeping his voice barely level, he asks, “Do you even remember what you said in that video? The one that got you banned from socials?” Eddie figured he’d need to specify because this asshole would be able to differentiate between them all.

“No, man, I was fucking wasted. I bet the people who watched the video couldn’t even make out half of what I said. It was a stupid little video,” Harrington huffs out a laugh, making an unholy rage run rampant through Eddie.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Eddie sneered, “I think they heard you loud and fucking clear!”

Harrington’s head snaps to him, “Are you ok, man?”

“No, man, I’m not fucking ok. That stupid little video ended my career!” Eddie snarls out his words as he feels the bile rise in him, “You were complaining about your sad little rich boy life,” he mockingly pretends to cry, wringing his fists by his own eyes and fake pouting, “and you felt that I was special enough to make the cut for the list of people that did you wrong!”

Harrington shakes his head in disbelief, “No, that’s impossible. Someone would have told me.”

Eddie makes an incorrect buzzer sound, “Wrong! They wouldn’t because they needed you to not be sad-boy-Harrington and get on with your fucking job. Sent you to a nice swanky rehab after making a show of it. That you were ‘struggling’ with some injury or some fucking bullshit.”

“What?” Harrington asks, entirely in shock.

“That was, of course, complete fucking lies too because you hopped the rehab fence and were seen dancing and drinking the night away in some bar with your fans!” Eddie is raising his voice now.

Harrington just stares at him blankly. His mouth partly opens and closes like the pea-brained goldfish of a man that he is. God, Eddie hated him.

“You complained about how I wouldn’t work with you. Which was not true! I couldn’t! I had no space in the calendar. But the twisted whispers from facts to whatever met your ears apparently gave you the right to call me out publically.” Eddie glares at him as he stands up and paces away and then back to him, “I didn’t even see the original video when it landed, but I didn’t need to because your fucking nutcase cult of fans harassed me incessantly for years!” Spittle flies from his mouth as he rages at Harrington, purging everything he can at the confused man sitting in front of him. “And all for what? For a meaningless picture, you read your fucking bullshit into.” Eddie feels the venom fill his body, and he bites a visibly crumbling Harrington right where it hurts most, “I saw nothing in that photo other than a ticked checkbox. This isn’t a special fucking shot. I just wait for the correct marks to be hit!”

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

Songs that inspired this chapter:

Stripped - Depeche Mode

Come as you are - Nirvana

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