#Blare Fest

[iktsarpok]

フェスに初参戦してきました

Dr.Martinの靴に、シールtatooで私なりに気分をあげて

２箇所に設置された会場を行ったり来たり

🫀のあたりに、ゴンゴンくる音と

楽しい！！好きー！

という雰囲気の会場にいては、私だって楽しくなって、ハネてみたり揺れてみたり、手をあげてみたり…

存分に楽しんできました

（ホントは全バンド聴きたかったけど、体がふたつないと無理で…🥲）

coldrain

the bonez

CVLTE

凛として時雨

man with a mission

dragon ash

AFJB

hoobastank

　　・

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[daily-broco]

Lost in Japan: Don Broco edition

[inkedmyths]

Well. Those sure are Fest results, huh.

...Anyways, anyone know if we have Frostyfest next month—

[roychewtoy]

lot of nuance to the things cast of characters if you really pay attention

[anemia-rp]

WHO IN THE BAND

-drinks most

Masato: Yoko, our guitar player, but he doesn‘t look drunk at all. I’m terrible with beer. I’m better with Jäger or something stronger.

[lovebugism]

Eddie x Gareths sisterrrrr????? Like Romeo and Juliet type stuff where Gareth is like my sister is NOT dating you

thanks so much for your request, anon!! i had so much fun writing it!! there isn't much conflict with gareth, but i hope you like it anyway! jealous!eddie x girly!reader (1.6k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

Gareth picks you up from the mall at six o’clock sharp.

You say goodbye to your friends, all of them wearing the same tank top and pleated skirt duo you’re in, before getting into the passenger seat of his pick-up truck. You’re dressed too nicely to be sat in such a beaten-up thing. Too pretty for it, too.

“Wanna get something to eat?” the boy asks as he pulls out of the parking lot, talking over the Dio song blaring on the radio.

He’s wearing his usual flannel vest over a tattered Metallica tee. The former is riddled with various vintage pins fitting for a metalhead. Down to his skull necklace, ripped jeans, and dirty sneakers — the two of you couldn’t be more different.

You flip down the visor and use the mirror to put on a swipe of glittery lipgloss. You feel almost naked without it. “Slurpees?” you offer before smacking your mouth to spread the sparkly glaze.

“That’s so not dinner,” Gareth laughs as he shakes his sandy curls. 

You arch a manicured brow in his direction. “Got a better idea?”

“Nope,” he concedes, popping the ‘p.’

He’s got too much of a soft spot for you to deny you of anything. Perks of being the youngest sibling, you suppose.

You feel butterflies fluttering like crazy in your stomach, their wings brushing the edges of your ribcage as he pulls into the gas station — and it’s not because of the $1 Slurpees. Your stepbrother’s best friend, Eddie Munson, usually deals drugs in the back parking lot on weekends. Like the absolute dreamboat he is. 

It’s been days since you last saw him. Six of them, to be exact, but it’s not like you’re counting or anything.

While Gareth waits in line to pay for your drink and his food, you decide to quell your yearning. It’s much more like a hunger, though. Whatever innocent crush you used to have is far more salient now. You miss Eddie like a dinner you didn’t get to eat — noticeably empty, weakened without his smile to bring you back to life.

You round the corner to the back lot and find him flipping through a wad of cash. He leans against the brick wall with one dirty sneaker kicked up against it. Despite the middle of summer head, he hasn’t yet forgone his leather jacket and dark denim jeans duo. He looks killer, as usual — so you could only imagine how he’d look out of them.

When he hears the sound of footsteps scuffing against pavement, he looks at you from the corner of his eye. His gaze is halfway hidden beneath his fluffy bangs before he turns to face you wholly. 

He grins at the sight of you, and you fill whole again.

“Hi, Teddy,” you greet with a smile, stained blue from your raspberry Slurpee.

He rises on both feet and tucks the money into the back pocket of his baggy jeans. His head tilts to his shoulder as he looks at you, too cute for his own good. “Whatcha doin’ out here, princess?”

Your stomach flutters at the nickname you’ve heard too many times to count. 

“Came to see you,” you shrug innocently, curling your smile around the straw of your drink.

Eddie beams, brows raising in amusement and cheeks reddening at your answer. He hopes you’re too far away to see his cheeks glowing as pink as they are now. He’d just blame it on the summer heat, anyway. 

“Really?” he lilts, voice light and airy with mirth.

You shrug as you swallow down the fruity slushy. “Gareth brought me for Slurpees.”

“How sweet.”

“Right?” you hum with a blue-tinted smirk, slowing when you finally reach the boy. His weed-tinged, woody musk envelopes you completely — he might as well be embracing you. “Best brother ever.”

Gareth isn’t really your brother, despite how often you call him that. You’re related by marriage, not by blood. You’ve known him your entire life, though, so you figure you might as well be.

Eddie knows this, so he smiles and takes a rather dramatic step back from you. “And that is exactly why I have to stay approximately three feet away from you at all times, princess.”

“Why’s that?” you squint at him.

When you take another step closer, he takes two more back.

“‘Cause he’s been threatening to beat my ass about dating you since we were thirteen.”

A smile quirks the right side of your lips. “Well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” you lilt.

Eddie’s brows raise at the mischievous inflection in your words. This time when you step towards him, he stays in place. “You’d really do that to him? To the ‘best brother ever?’”

You take another daring step towards him. Your chin tilts up to look at him in your ever-shortening proximity. “I’ve done far worse things than think his best friend is hot, Teddy.”

“Yeah?” the boy coos, chocolate eyes dancing with amusement as his chin dips to his chest to peer down at you. He makes the mistake of looking lower — at your breasts in your pretty little tank top and the silver of your stomach showing beneath the hem. He wants so desperately to hold you, despite everything that tells him he shouldn’t. His best friend, namely.

“And what’s that, princess?” the boy croons to you.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” you blink innocently up at him, then shrug. “Sorry.”

Eddie knows he shouldn’t be jealous, but he is. 

You’re not his, but god, you were so good at making him feel like you were. You were around so often, always so sweet in your way — sometimes, it felt like you really did belong to him. The thought of his girl with someone else makes him feel like puking.

Jealousy radiates from him like steam, palpable enough for you to feel. 

You grin.

“Don’t worry, Teddy,” you singsong, taking another goddamn step closer. Eddie knows he should be taking a thousand more backward, but your chest brushes his torso and he forgets how to walk. “I only have eyes for you.”

The boy swallows through a tightening throat. He nods for a moment, trying to work up the courage to use his voice. He’s scared that it’ll break, and he’ll lose all cool points with you. And he’s the rockstar, the older brother’s best friend — he can’t possibly have that.

“Good to know,” Eddie finally nods.

“Don’t keep me waiting too long, though. Might have to find some other metalhead to give me attention.”

Your smile widens when his jaw clenches, honeyed glaze hardening at the thought of you finding someone else. Your heart flutters when you realize that he sees you as his. He’s already been yours for a long, long time.

Gareth calls your name from a distance, muffled and far away. It’s nearly inaudible, but it knocks Eddie from his stupor all the same. “You should go, princess.” 

“My parents usually go to bed around nine. Gareth’s usually sucking in the ceiling by eleven,” you maunder suddenly, wide eyes sparkling with roguishness. “If you park your van a few houses down around midnight, no one will be the wiser…”

“You want me to sneak into your bedroom?” Eddie laughs softly to himself. He hasn’t done that since he was sixteen. He thought he was over chasing girls like that. Turns out, he wasn’t really. Not when it came to you, at least.

“Uh-huh,” you hum with a firm nod, lips wrapping around the red straw of your slushy right after.

“And what’s in it for me, huh?”

Truth be told, Eddie couldn’t give a shit. He already knows he’ll be at your house at 12 o’clock sharp, climbing up your trellis like some kind of offbeat Spiderman. He just wants to hear you tell him something, anything — a wish for him to go on for the next several hours while he’s stuck dealing in the heat, thinking about you.

You don’t answer him with words.

You rise on the tips of your toes, holding onto your Slurpee with one hand and using your free one to cup his cheek. You usher the boy softly towards you as you press your mouth to his. And it’s not the most heated kiss in the world or anything — just a languid, honeyed thing that makes your lips lock like they were made to do it.

Eddie’s idling hands rise to your waist. His ringed fingers squeeze the bare skin of your sides as he sighs against your mouth. You taste cold and sweet — like blue raspberry and ice and lipgloss — his savior in this heat. The tip of his nose smushes against the side of yours, desperate to melt with you entirely. He thinks it might be close to possible, having you so close in the sweltering summer evening.

He’s breathless when you pull away from him.

“More of that,” you answer through labored breaths. “And maybe a little extra, if you’re good.”

Eddie doesn’t bother denying his want for you anymore. Fuck it, he’ll just fight his best friend. He can take a punch if he has to, but he’s not sure Gareth could even throw one — especially not at the boy he’s known for practically half his life.

“Your bedroom’s the last window on the light, right?” Eddie asks through rosy, kiss-bitten lips.

“Yeah,” you grin, backing slowly away from him. “I’ll leave my light on.”

He nods until the words catch up with him. “Okay.”

“See you then, Teddy.”

When you turn the corner for the main parking lot, Eddie can finally breathe again. 

The air is noticeably less sweet without you around.

[corroded-hellfire]

what about like an angst with reader, eddie, and Chrissy and maybe ends happy. like a romance type thing but lots of angst

Somehow this got lost in my drafts, so I deeply apologize it took me so long to get it out! I tried to angst it up for you.

Warnings: mentally and emotionally abusive parents, Eddie’s a jerk but he comes to

Words: 3.8k

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Nancy’s voice betrays her worry over the phone, and you have to assure her for the fifth time that you’re all right. 

“Why do you keep asking me that?”

Annoyed isn’t a word you would’ve used to describe your mood before, but it’s certainly fitting now that Nancy keeps interrogating you. 

“You just sound different,” Nancy answers. “You sound off.”

“I’m fine,” you lie. 

“Why don’t you go and see Eddie?” Nancy suggests. It’s not a secret that your best friend can make you happier even when the world is turning to shit. His presence hasn’t been quite as helpful lately since it’s a constant reminder that he has a date with Chrissy Cunningham coming up—and not one with you. 

“Yeah, maybe I will,” you tell Nancy. 

“Good. Call me if you need me.”

“I will, Nance. Bye.”

After hanging up the phone, you stroll into the bathroom and survey the damage on your face. Digging through your makeup bag to find your trusty makeup remover, you make a mental note to stop off at Melvalds on the way home to pick up some more. The skin beneath your puffy eyes is tender as you use a cotton swab to clear away the smeared mascara. Hisses of pain leak through your teeth as you gently dab at your waterline, trying to make all traces of your sob fest vanish. 

Makeup worked for the most part when hiding your irritated eyes and the raw skin around them from crying so much. But when you cried while already wearing some, it made the evidence plain as day with the black streaks running down your cheeks. The only person who knows that your mom and her boyfriend treat you like garbage is Eddie—which means you have to take extra precautions when trying to hide the signs from him too. Eddie threatened many times to kick the shit out of your mom’s boyfriend. There have been a few times when he was high that you had to physically restrain him from heading out to find the prick. He hated how your mother treated you as well, but Eddie could never threaten a woman—even one as horrible as her. 

Once you’re satisfied with the cover the makeup has given you, you grab your keys and head out to your car. This had been one of the worst beratings you’d ever gotten and there was still a ringing in your ears from the vitriol they spewed. 

You think you’re better than us? Just because you graduated high school? Think you’re some big hot shot? You’re nothing. No one gives a shit about you. I gave birth to you and am obligated to love you—but you even make that difficult!

You imagine Eddie’s reaction if he found out. He’d again be trying to talk you into getting into your car or his van and just driving off together. Somewhere, anywhere. Most of the time the two of you said you’d drive to the beach, seeing as neither of you had ever seen the ocean before. The fantasy of Eddie kicking the ass of the douche your mom is dating and then whisking you away to the beach keeps you company on the ride over. 

Wayne’s truck isn’t parked beside Eddie’s van when you arrive, which means the older man has left for work already. The usual blaring of Eddie’s stereo that you can hear from outside doesn’t meet your ears as you step out of your car. You hoist yourself up the few stairs to the front door and rap your knuckles on it. There’s no answer. Leaning in, you definitely hear shuffling going on in there, though. You knock again.

“What?” comes a muffled bark from the other side of the door. Frowning, you push the front door open and step inside of what has become your second home. 

“Um, Eds?” His back is to you as you shut the front door behind you. By his hunched position over a lower shelf and the shuffling and scraping sounds reaching your ears, you can tell he’s looking for something. Frantically, if the frazzled eyes he gives you in the briefest of glances over his shoulder are any indication. 

“Oh, hey,” he says, turning immediately back to the task at hand. 

“Can I, uh, talk to you?” One of your hands twirls a keyring around your finger, while the other comes up to gingerly touch your swollen lower eyelid. 

“Now?” The groan accompanying his words takes you aback. There’s never been a single time that he’s made you feel like a burden or inconvenience. But the way he’s acting now is sure giving you that impression. 

“Are you busy?” you ask in a soft voice. 

“Trying to find that ring with the skeleton hands holding the stone.”

“Why?”

“Because Chrissy likes that one.” He says it so absentmindedly, like he’s giving 99% of his efforts into finding the piece of jewelry, and 1% of them talking to you. 

“What’s it matter what ring you wear right now?” Frowning, you cross your arms over your chest.

Eddie groans again and opens another drawer. “To wear on our date tonight.”

The air rushes out of your lungs faster than when your mom landed a verbal gut punch at home. You thought you had a whole week to mentally prepare for Eddie going out on a date with the queen of Hawkins High. 

“T-Tonight?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Something came up for her next weekend, so we rescheduled it for today.”

“Oh.” It’s all you can say without bursting into tears or punching a hole in the wall. 

“Yeah,” Eddie says again, turning around to finally face you. “So, you know, if you could just…” Eddie gestures towards the front door, obviously hinting at you leaving. 

“O-Oh. Yeah. I-I just need to talk to you about something,” you say weakly. “It will only take a minute. I-I promise.”

Eddie groans and rubs a hand over his face. “I don’t have a minute. I need to find this ring. You and I can talk whenever. The date is tonight, though—it’s important.”

And I’m not, your mind adds. The pain in your eyes seems to throb even more, as if Eddie’s words are irritating them further. 

“Right,” you say. “Okay, I’ll go.” 

“Thanks,” Eddie mumbles as he continues his search. It burns like a branding iron down your esophagus. You can’t count all the times that Eddie said to come to him whenever you felt low or like you wanted to run away or when you couldn’t take being at home any longer. It made you feel special. Now, he doesn’t even have the time of day to listen to what you have to say. Even if you shouted, “Hey, this is about the people who I live with that abuse me!” it probably still wouldn’t get his full attention. You’re not going to use that as an excuse, either. Not going to use it to get your best friend to talk to you when he clearly doesn’t want to and has better things to do. 

An idea pops into your head and it’s planted itself before you really even have time to consider it. Slowly, you walk back to the front door. But before you open it, you turn back to face him. 

“Can I just ask one f-favor first?” you say, doing your damndest to keep your voice from shaking. “And then I’ll leave, I promise.” 

Pausing his perusing, Eddie heaves out a sigh and turns to face you, hands on his hips. “What?”

“Can I have a hug?”

Eddie takes the few steps towards you and pulls you in for a quick squeeze. It’s not exactly what you wanted, but you still let your head rest against his shoulder, scrunching your eyes closed as you try and savor this moment with Eddie. Usually, his hugs are like a balm for your soul. But this one is rushed and half-assed. It’s clear he wants you to be gone. So after one last squeeze of him in your arms, you grab the front door knob and open it to the warm late spring day outside. Over your shoulder, you look at Eddie. He’s back to shuffling things around, pink tongue poking out of his pretty lips as he focuses on his task.

“Goodbye, Eddie.”

There’s no response. You didn’t really expect one, anyway. The two of you have been best friends for years. But you know the place that Chrissy holds in his heart and there’s no room for anyone else in that spotlight. It’s not the kind cheerleader’s fault, though. All she did was agree to a date with the best man you know. How could you blame her? 

Taking a deep breath, you step out of the trailer and close the door behind you. 

The first thing you do when you get back into your car is turn up the radio as loud as your eardrums can stand. Hopefully it’ll be enough to occupy your mind so it doesn’t wander and you don’t spiral even further. Melvalds is on the way home from Eddie’s, otherwise you probably would have skipped it. But, you think, you can also grab a candy bar or two to drown your sorrows in if you stop by the store. 

Luckily, no one you know is working at the store this evening. It makes it easier for you to grab the things you need and get out without having to have a conversation with anyone. On your way back to the car, the dumpster on the side of the building catches your eye, as it’s overflowing with garbage. They must have gotten a delivery earlier in the day because empty boxes also pile high out of the large green bin, many littering the floor around it as well. Without giving it much thought, you pop the trunk of your car before grabbing as many boxes as will fit in the cramped space before shoving them inside. You slam the trunk, giving it enough oomph to make it close despite the amount of cardboard you managed to cram in.

No one is home when you get there, which isn’t a surprise. Eddie would be occupied the whole night, so you know you’ll have no interruptions. Because who else would call or show up to see you? No one, of course. So, you lug the empty boxes into your room and take a look around the small space. Most of your belongings should fit in the boxes and the small suitcase, duffle bag, and backpack you have in your closet. 

Heaving a sigh, you get to work and start to pack up your room. What’s keeping you in Hawkins anymore? High school is over and your only college plans so far were community college—and they have those just about everywhere. Family was a mark against staying in Hawkins, and your friends were either going away to college or dating pretty cheerleaders that’ll have them forgetting all about you eventually. Why not have your own new start? 

There’s not a whole lot in your room to begin with, so most everything you own ends up in a box or a bag. It’s nearing three in the morning by the time you shove the bags containing your clothes behind the driver and passenger’s seats in your car. Figuring you’d end up sleeping in your car for the foreseeable future, you pack all your bedding into the backseat, creating a nest that you could curl up into when you were tired of driving. 

The boxes are heavy, but you manage to haul them to the driveway all by yourself. After stashing most of them into the trunk, you realize they’re probably not all going to fit. Gritting your teeth, you decide to give it the old college try and force them all in. Headlights turn down your street and you have to shield your face as the beams blind you. None of your neighbors are particularly friendly, so you know none of them will stop to see what’s going on. To your chagrin though, the vehicle starts to slow as it approaches your home. The closer it gets, you begin to hear the familiar squeak that churns out as the tires roll up. Eddie. Ice floods your veins as your mind scrambles to find something to tell him. What possible explanation could you have for loading up your car with all of your belongings in the middle of the night? But how do you tell him that you planned on skipping town without giving him a heads up first? 

You run out of time as the van comes to a halt and the thump of Eddie’s boots hits the pavement.

“Uh, whatcha doing?” Eddie drawls. The lights on the front of the van finally fade out and you can see him approaching you. There’s a confused yet amused furrow on his brow as he slips his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. He’s wearing the same t-shirt as he was when you saw him before, but now his leather jacket is thrown over it. 

“Nothing,” you say lamely as you throw your weight behind your attempts to close the trunk. 

“Really?” Eddie raises his eyebrows as he leans against the side of your car. “Nothing? Because you always load your car up with boxes in the middle of the night. How could I forget?”

Deciding to just ignore him, even though you know that won’t work, you put your focus back on the task at hand. Eddie gives you a few moments, watching in amusement as you try to leap on top of the trunk. 

“What, are you getting rid of a body? Come on, who’d ya kill? You know I’ll help you out.” There’s a playful smirk on his face as he pushes off of the car and his eyes catch on the bedding you have in the backseat. “Wait.” He points at your comforter and pillows bunched up on the old worn seats. “Are you…going somewhere?”

“Maybe.” It’s petty and immature of you, but you’re still hurt by how easily he dismissed you before. 

Eddie’s jaw drops and he lets out a scoff. “And what? You just weren’t going to tell me?”

“Honestly,” you huff out, momentarily giving up on closing the trunk, “I didn’t think you’d care very much.”

“Excuse me?” Eddie’s eyes practically pop out of his skull. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, forget it,” you mumble. “What are you even doing here?”

“I came to tell my best friend about my date,” he says, irritation clear in his tone. “But it seems like she’s mad at me for some reason.”

All you can do is stare at him. He seriously doesn’t know? He can’t figure out why you’re so upset with him? Anger boils your blood, thawing out the ice that previously resided there. 

“Well, I’m busy, Eddie. So, you know, if you could just…” Your eyes flicker over to his van, not so subtly quoting him from earlier in the day. 

It takes a few moments, but it finally dawns on him. He drops his arms to his side and has the good sense to look embarrassed.

“Oh, shit.” Eddie groans and rubs his hands over his face. “I’m an asshole, aren’t I?”

Some of your anger turns to irritation as you see his body deflate. You cross your arms over your chest, refusing to give up all your vexation towards him. 

“You are.”

“I’m sorry.” He steps towards you, letting out a sigh. “You wanted to talk to me about something and I just brushed you off. I’m a pretty shitty best friend.”

Not quite trusting your voice, you nod your head. Eddie comes even closer and tilts your chin up so you’re looking at him. His lower lip is jutted out and he’s made his eyes somehow even wider. 

“Can you forgive me?” he asks.

You have to bite your lip from letting a small smile peek through. Even when he’s been an asshole and an idiot, he can still find a way to cheer you up. 

“Maybe,” you say with a shrug.

Eddie heaves an over dramatic sigh that you know is meant to keep the atmosphere around you light. 

“What about we talk about whatever it was you came by for, hmm?”

The suggestion suddenly sours your mood again. You’d managed to get the venom hurled at you pushed to the back of your mind, too focused on Eddie hurting your feelings. Now the vile words come back to you and your best friend immediately picks up on the shift in your demeanor. 

“Fuck,” he grumbles under his breath. He knows the reason your body would tense up like that. It only serves to make him feel even worse about shooing you away before. Eddie lifts his eyes and scans the driveway before looking back at your house. “Are they here?”

“No,” you say softly.

“Good, I’d fucking lose it on them.” He takes a deep breath before ducking his head to meet your eyes. “How bad was it?”

The question is what gets the tears prickling in your eyes. You try to hide it, but your trembling bottom lip gives you away. Eddie doesn’t hesitate to tug you closer to him and pull you into a hug. 

“Whatever they said, it isn’t true,” Eddie mumbles against your hair. 

“D-Did you know it’s almost impossible to love me?” you say with a hoarse voice. You clear your throat before you speak again. “And that I’m a pathetic waste of space that nobody wants around?”

“I do.”

You can’t help but look up at Eddie when he says that, skepticism written all over your face. At first, the look puzzles Eddie. Then he remembers what he did when you originally came to see him and talk about the shitty things your mom and her boyfriend said to you. Eddie had just brushed you off, made you feel unimportant and that he cared about Chrissy more than you. Nothing could be farther from the truth. You mean everything to him and the fact that he made you feel anything less than is absolutely eating him alive inside. 

“I promise I want you around all the time,” Eddie tells you. “There’s never a time I don’t want you around. I’m so sorry about before, sweetheart. I clearly wasn’t thinking. Is…is that why you were leaving?”

Without meeting his eyes, you nod your head. “Figured no one wanted me around. Was tired of being here,” you say, gesturing to your house behind you. 

Eddie nods his head and presses a kiss into your hair. You think he’s going to say something, but instead he walks around you and picks up one of the cardboard boxes you were trying to get in your trunk. Instead of assisting you with it, he steps away from your car with the box, and you look at him in confusion.

“What’re you doing?” you ask.

“This was never going to fit in there,” Eddie says, nodding towards your car. “Gonna put it in the back of my van.”

This confuses you more than anything. You watch him in silence, a frown etched into your brow, as he yanks open the back of his van and slides the box inside. 

“Why your van?” you ask.

Eddie gives you a look like the answer should be a no-brainer. 

“Because the boxes weren’t fitting in your trunk, and I have plenty of space in mine.”

“What?” Your brain feels like it has whiplash from everything that’s gone on today. Maybe Eddie was the one making sense and you’re just not getting it. “How’s it going to help me in your van?” 

“Well,” Eddie says as he walks over and picks up another of the boxes that you couldn’t make fit. “We’re going to have to stop at my place, anyway. I’ll have to pack up some shit to take.”

“Take where?” Your voice sounds about as flabbergasted as you feel. The fact that you’re becoming more and more sleep deprived isn’t helping either. 

“Wherever we’re headed,” Eddie says with a shrug. He slides the second box in beside the first one in the back of the van. “The ocean, I presume.”

“What?” you practically shout into the quiet, dark night. 

“You wanna leave, right?” Eddie asks as he closes the back doors of the van. “Finally leaving these assholes you live with, yeah?”

“I, um,” you stutter, not completely sure of what’s going on or what you should say. “Yeah. I-I’m leaving.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow at you and tilts his head.

“And you really think I’d let you leave without me? Bullshit. We can crash at my place tonight then head out in the morning. Maybe plan a route over breakfast.”

“Wha—Eddie, no.” 

The refusal seems to confuse him. His brow pinches together as he leans against the side of his van. 

“What?” he asks.

“You can just pick up and leave. You have Wayne. And the Hellfire guys. And…Chrissy.”

“Sweetheart,” Eddie says with a humorless chuckle. He shakes his head and makes his way over to you. Gently, he picks one of your hands up in his own and laces your fingers together. “The Hellfire guys still have the club when they head back to school in the fall. Wayne’s been saying you and I should get out of Hawkins for months now. And as for Chrissy?” Eddie shrugs and a knot forms in your stomach. “We’ve only been on one date. And yeah, I really like her. But I’m not going to pass up being on the road with my favorite person.”

Not only does the knot untie itself at your words, but it also seems as if the rope turned into little butterflies that are spreading their wings all throughout your abdomen. 

“O-Okay,” you say, trying to fight back the tears in your eyes. 

“I’ll meet you at the trailer, yeah?” Eddie asks, slinging an arm over your shoulders. “Don’t go getting a head start without me.”

“I promise.”

Eddie holds his pinky up to you. “Pinky promise?”

Smiling, you lock your pinky with his before letting your hands fall to your sides. Eddie takes one last look at your former home before striding over to his van.

“Thank God you’re leaving this place,” he says, eyeing every little detail of the house with disdain. Memories of all the times you called him crying because of something that happened within these walls flood you. It’s the reminder of all the kindness and love he’s given you over the years that really allows you to forgive him for his rude behavior earlier. It still hurts, but expecting Eddie to be perfect wasn’t fair to anyone. 

“I’ll see you in five minutes?” you ask as you finally get your trunk closed.

“Then you’ll never be able to get rid of me.” Eddie throws you a wink before closing himself in the van.

Grinning to yourself, you slide into your own driver’s seat. 

“I’m gonna hold you to that, Munson.”

[lqfiles]

SCORE THAT GOAL! — 28. winter wonders with you

(wc: 1.701)

perhaps, jisung should've considered your offer a few more times. maybe he shouldn't have given into your insisting pleas so easily, because the 4 sets of eyes that were watching his every move since he arrived in front of the festival entrance made him want to escape right then and there. it was.. awkward for sure. why was no one saying anything?

"okay! enough of this awkwardness. jisung, you've met chenle before." you interjected from beside jisung and he thanked the heavens that you were here to break the ice between everyone. had it not been for your presence, he was convinced the whole night would've been a staring contest between all of them. you motioned your hand towards chenle who stood across the both of you, before your pointed to left.

"that is ningning, next to her is sungchan, and that's mark on chenle's right. should we go have fun now?" your attempt at breaking the ice between your friends and jisung was met with a few murmurs and an excited ningning. "did everyone bring their money?" she asked the group and all of you hummed back in response, following her as you finally entered the fest after minutes.

you gasped at your surrounding. all your thoughts could form at that moment was the word stunning. bright colourful lightings were decorated everywhere, warm-cozy food stands stood at all corners of the place with it’s aromas spreading everywhere. different attractions were luring you towards them with the sound of ecstatic people as loud music blared in the background. snow was covering the concrete you stood on, and for a second you wondered if this was the definition of winter.

you felt a nudge on your upper arm and snapped your head to your right. “are you sure this is.. okay?” jisung’s soft and deep voice was muffled by the scarf placed around his neck. you could barely understand him, but the look of unease displayed on his face said enough. you reached your hand up, patting his shoulder. “don’t worry too much about them, aren’t they the ones who agreed to let you join?” you spoke loudly and the two of you had slowed your pace, walking a few steps behind the rest.

“i guess you’re right.” jisung smiled at you, though you couldn’t see it. “let’s go and enjoy our holiday then!” you exclaimed in excitement, walking ahead of him towards the rest.

as expected, the afternoon was fun and lively. “i heard there is a ice rink somewhere, let’s go?” ningning suggested, looking between all of you for confirmation. no one protested, which made her smile widely as she guided you to the spot that supposedly had the ice rink. much to your luck, you were able to immediately get in as the next batch of people were entering. “have you ever done this?” you aimed the question at jisung while simultaneously putting on your skates. he nodded.

“yeah, as a child.” he laughed and finished tightening his own skates. “me too, only once.” you smiled his way and stood on your skates before walking towards the entrance of the rink. the vibes were perfect you thought. fairy lights were hung everywhere, lighting up the pink sky you stood under. the sound of screaming and joy filled the air, sending a warm feeling to your body. or maybe the warm feeling came from how close you stood next to jisung.

“wait mark! help me.” ningning pleaded while she desperately held onto the rails. mark’s laugh was loud and genuine as he turned on his skates and made his way back towards the girl. sungchan and chenle on the other hand were racing their way through the rink, a sincere smile plastered on their face. you couldn’t remember the last time you saw sungchan so happy.

“be careful!” jisung warned from behind you, placing a hand on the small of your back. you didn’t even notice that you had stoped moving, totally oblivious to jisung who was moving right behind you. you snapped right out of it, sucking in a breath as jisung’s hand lingered there for a few more seconds until he passed you. “you okay there?” he turned and asked. you nodded, scared that you’d make a fool out of yourself if you used words.

“chenle, you’re the basketball player here. please win that for me?” the five of you found yourself stood in front of a basketball rim stand. ningning’s finger pointed towards a pokémon plushy, and chenle chuckled. “30 scores in a minute? light work.” he boasted, handing the worker a few coins before the timer went off.

the worker scoffed lowly at chenle’s cocky behaviour, pressing the timer for a minute. lo and behold, chenle did manage to get 30 in a minute, baffling the worker who stared wide eyed. what surprised the rest of you was the score of 47 he managed to get. even jisung stared in awe. “he gets serious about basketball.” you explained with a chuckle. chenle handed ningning the plushie and she thanked him with a hug.

“can i try?” jisung placed out a few coins on the counter, waiting for his turn and all of you exchanged a shocked look. the worker nodded and let jisung prepare before pressing the timer again.

jisung wasn’t too sure why he was doing this, but the plushies looked cute and if he could win at least one he’d be more than happy. much to everyone’s surprise , jisung managed to score an amount of 32 in under a minute. his shy smile was hidden under his scarf as he took ahold of the duck plushie and turned to look at all of you.

“watch out sungchan, he might take your spot.” ningning joked, and jisung felt relieved to see all of you laugh. heaving out a sigh of relief, he decided to stand next to you. “you never told me you could play basketball.” you grinned at him and he shook his head. “not really, just pure luck.”

the evening had turned into night, and the pinkish sky had darkened. all of you had decided to grab something to eat before heading back home. the awkwardness had been taken over by a comfortable and fun conversation as all of you shared your hot food. a content smile was present on your face while you looked all around the table. everyone looked happy. you were happy.

“your food will get cold.” jisung spoke from beside you. you flinched out of your thoughts, turning to look to your left. jisung’s scarf was loosened from his neck and you could finally see the rest of his hidden face. he had a soft smile placed on his lips, nudging your elbow with his own. “are you not going to eat?” he whispered this time. “o-oh, yeah of course.” you stammered. his gaze stayed on you for a few more seconds before he turned to his own food.

“you’re shivering.” jisung noted. you weren’t even aware yourself that you were, too occupied admiring everything around you to care. you looked back at jisung, ready to respond, but swallowed your words back immediately as you felt a woollen texture wrap around you. it happened so quick that you weren’t even sure it was real. jisung had retracted himself already, not sparing you another glance.

“don’t get sick.” he smiled to himself and your heart was ready to jump out of your rib cage. you could hear giggling from beside you and quickly moved your head, looking at mark and ningning who had a wide grin on both their faces. even sungchan scoffed, a hint of a smile on his face while chenle made a gagging noise.

“did you have fun today?” was the question that occupied your mind the whole day. once again, you and jisung were walking far behind everyone, in your own conversation. you don’t exactly know when, but halfway through your meal it had started to snow. the white flakes that dazzled on the ground made you smile. jisung hadn’t asked for his scarf back, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to give it back.

“i did. thank you for letting me join all of you.” jisung’s voice boomed from besides like it had the whole day. you realised that the two of you had stuck near each other almost every minute and wondered if it was intentional on his behalf. “your friends are.. nice.” jisung admitted. his perception of them before hadn’t been anything negative, but he underestimated how welcoming all of them would be. even chenle had made small talk with him.

“do you want your scarf back?” you asked before you could even register what you said. regret formed inside of you and you hoped jisung didn’t hear you. “you can keep it. i still got your jacket, now you have something of mine too.” if you had turned to look jisung’s way you would’ve caught onto the small hint of a blush that was threatening to grow on his face.

you did eventually look, and found yourself struck in awe. the snow had puddled onto the top of his dark hair, and his eyes glimmered as they stared back at you. a small trail of smoke escaped his lips as he blew air out and you wondered if the pink hue on his cheeks was from the cold or something else.

just like you, jisung couldn’t help but think you looked abnormally pretty under the lanterns. the snow had covered you too and you had hidden your face into the material of his scarf- though, a trail of smoke went through it and it made jisung awe silently. were you always this pretty or was it this particular setting that made you look so ethereal?

“are you two coming or what?” ningning shouted at the two of you, snapping you out of your moment of admiration. you could see the teasing smile on her face from afar and rolled your eyes back. you turned back to jisung and sent him a warm smile before running off to the rest.

jisung went home thinking of how nice of a smile you had.

previous — master list — next

notes ; this is the start of jisung realising that MAYYYBEEEE he likes her sorta kinda (he does 🤫)

TAGLIST ; @rksbae @222brainrot @severefireangelprune @violetvoo @prdshobi @kikookii @haechansbbg @en-dream @bbxnny-bbxtch @cvpidxo @jaeminslattes @90s-belladonna @softieluvsyou @wenjunblossoms @be0mluver @jeongintwt @myhaechan @love1again @ckline35 @cassie6392 @hibernatinghamster @starboys-gf @rllymark @mfaal @snflwrhaerecs4u @sunflowerbebe07 @ahnneyong @enhalovie @galacticpurpl3 @manooffline @luv4jeno @mikadorbs @1moo7 @ksywoo @ohdudehesflirting @savluvsmingi @finnydraws @invumi @crvzy-fujoshi @peterparkerluvvbot @hrjunluvs @i2kittenz @jisungji @http-peachie @jisyng @sweetcandycum @giaccolo @shotaroswifeyily @sinsgaybutthatsokay @be-my-sunrise @syzavxy @kyusqult @mxlly143 @o-schist @bigjishirt @snuglyjwi @hyunniesvlog @shuaadmirer

[aurorawritestoescape]

Birthday Surprise

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader x Tommy Miller

Tw: 18+ mdni smut, mfm, power imbalance (boss/employee), ‘sir’ kink, praise kink, tiniest bit of degradation, oral (f/m receiving), cum eating, unprotected piv (wrap it up obv), creampie, rimming, multiple orgasms, butt slapping (light), voyeurism, swearing, no use of y/n

Word count: 3,2k

A/n: thank you @noxturnalpascal 💖 for an amazing idea to write fics based on this PROMPT: Pick a Pedge Daddy character - Joel Miller, Frankie Morales, Dave York, etc. (it can be Canon or Non-Canon/AU/No Outbreak).

PPCU Daddy is surprised - and excited - to learn that the grad/postgrad student he hires to watch his child sometimes also works as a: stripper/dancer/cam-girl/onlyfans-model/dating-or-escort-service (or straight-up SW)

I added Tommy to the mix cos what’s better than one Miller boy? Yeah, two Miller boys😝

Other fics based on the prompt: Room 301 @milla-frenchy Dancing is a dangerous game @noxturnalpascal Webcam for beginners @iamasaddie

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You’ve been doing stripping as a side job for a few months now. As a postgrad student you were broke and in debt. You needed money to help out with the tuition, which was unbearably high. On top of that your car broke down and you’ve been trying to save for a new one. One of your friends who’d done it told you that the money was good and the hours were flexible. So you decided to give it a shot.

The gig turned out to be great. You were often tipped generously and though the men were usually drunk and overly excited you’ve been lucky enough to be treated fairly well. They called you Diamond because of your sparkling silver costume and glittering boots.

Today you are shining at a birthday party. It’s a total sausage fest and everyone is excited about the headliner - you. The men are cheering you on as you’re giving your best lap dance to the man of the evening. The music is blaring while you are slowly taking off your sparking top before pushing your breasts together and swaying your hips seductively. You’re still wearing high silver boots and a tiny diamond-encrusted thong.

Everyone is already buzzed. Everyone except the birthday boy. He doesn’t seem to be drunk at all as his dark piercing eyes are sliding across your glitter-covered body with intent and hunger. Sometimes he gives his friends a little smile and laughs at their thirsty comments. But when his gaze returns to you his expression becomes focused and serious, one of a hunter whose unsuspecting prey is inching closer and closer, as he’s waiting for the right moment to strike. There is something hypnotizing about the man and you feel the magnetic pull every time your eyes meet.

You want him to want you. And judging by a big bulge in his jeans you’re doing great. You’re practically drooling over him as your hands are gliding over his broad shoulders, strong chest, running through his dark curly hair. After some time you see only him, and your heart flutters and core burns with desire.

You’re hovering over his lap, his face inches from your bouncing breasts as your hips move the way you’d ride him and your hands are holding onto his muscular shoulders. He wants to say something to you so you lean down bringing your ear to his plush lips. His breath tickles you and you giggle.

“Can I get a private dance?” he asks a little louder so you could hear him through the music. He tilts his head to the side to look into your eyes. He’s gorgeous. Older, just how you like them. A scent of whiskey and something sweet hits your nostrils and you feel yourself getting wet. Your pussy tingles and you both decide to give this guy whatever he wants tonight. You smile at him nodding your head, maybe a little too eager.

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That’s how you end up on your knees in the VIP room, fully naked between his spread legs, his cock deep in your throat. You’ve never done anything like that with a client but you just couldn’t help yourself. You would be fired in a second if anyone found out but you feel that he’s not the one to kiss and tell. His body, his eyes, his confidence drive any rational thought away from your mind.

When you were sitting on his lap having discarded your thong and boots and framing his legs with yours, your pussy was throbbing so much for him it hurt. You rested your head on his shoulder, turned to him and whispered in his ear, “You can touch me if you want”.

He chuckled and asked if he was allowed to but his fingers were already caressing your glistening seam. A few moments later he was fucking you with his thick digits, his tongue licking into your mouth. He knew his way around a pussy and you came hard, making a mess of his jeans.

Now you are sucking on his ball rolling it in your mouth with your tongue and slowly jerking his cock. His jeans are opened and tugged down his hips, your hand is splayed on his lower belly covered with soft hair. He’s watching you with a soft smile, half lidded eyes blown and hazy. You’re enjoying yourself so much you feel you might come untouched just from sucking him off.

That’s when HE barges into the room apologizing for being late. You hear the gravelly voice and your heart drops into your stomach. You freeze glancing up at the birthday boy with horror on your face. Fuckfuckfuckfuck!!!! Fuck! You recognise that voice immediately. You raise your head before glancing back. Of course it’s him! The father of the girl you’ve been babysitting for a few weeks. You always loved kids so babysitting seemed like a great idea. Well, until now when two of your clients met.

Joel Miller was always kind and respectful yet a little grumpy. You never blamed him, a single parent who worked very hard to provide his daughter with the best life. He was a great father judging by how well adjusted and happy Sarah was.

He doesn’t look grumpy now. With his mouth agape, he’s staring at the two of you and mumbles, “Fuck, Tommy.” He raises one brow and runs a hand through his dark hair in a nervous gesture. His black T-shirt rides up showing a slither of his soft stomach and a happy trail. Suddenly you remember all the times he would come home sweaty and hot from working outside all day and you bite your lip.

You’re used to being naked in front of strangers so it takes you a minute to realize you need to cover yourself up.

“Oh my god, Mr Miller. Fuck.. I’m so sorry,” you get up looking around for anything to put on. Of course there’s nothing except your tiny thong and the boots so you just place your hands awkwardly on your mound and breasts and stand between Mr Miller and ‘Tommy’, whose cock is still out and hard. He’s not putting it away, just sits there proudly. Your eyes are darting between the two men.

“You’re interrupting, bro,” Tommy says with a nonchalance in his voice. Now it’s your time to be surprised cos the man looks almost bored.

Joel visibly collects himself and comes up to you.

“I see that,” he says, looking you up and down and then turning to his brother, “Do you know that you’re getting blown by my babysitter?”

Joel looks back to you and brushes your arm with his big warm hand. You shiver at the touch.

“No shit! Babysitter?” Tommy sits up, finally expressing some interest. Joel hums and his brother chuckles and leans back again, holding his still hard cock in his hand, “Got yourself a new one?”

“Yeah… and I seemed to hit the jackpot,” Joel replies with a little smile but his eyes on you are darker, hungrier than you’ve ever seen him. Your skin erupts in goosebumps and you feel yourself like a bunny circled by hungry wolves.

“Mmm.. Mr Miller, I can explain,” you stutter nervously standing there like a school girl being scolded by a headmaster. You want to tell him that you don’t usually walk around sucking your clients off but Joel interrupts you, “No need to explain anything, sweetheart. Work is work. You did nothing wrong.”

His deep smooth voice makes your clit twitch and you almost gasp when he cups your cheek and lowers his face closer to yours, “I know you’re a good girl.”

“And full of surprises,” Tommy adds with a smirk looking at you almost differently, with more intrigue in the gaze and his cock twitches in his hand.

You glance up at Joel and his eyes slide to your lips and yours do the same. Your mouths are so close you’re breathing each other's air. His thumb is rubbing your cheek. Suddenly you jerk when Tommy coughs interrupting whatever is happening between you and your employer. Joel straightens up and his hand leaves your face.

“Ya know what,” he says walking to the chair across the room, placing it a couple meters away from you and taking a seat, “Don’t stop on my account.”

Your jaw drops and you freeze, hardly believing your own ears.

“You heard him, baby. We don’t need to stop,” Tommy repeats his brother's words as your shock is being replaced by excitement.

You hesitate at first but the idea of sucking a guy off when his brother is watching is so filthy that the burning in your core reignites again and you feel yourself gush.

You drop your arms exposing yourself to the men, come up to Tommy again and retake your previous position on your knees between his legs. You take his cock from him and turn your head back to Joel. His legs are spread, big hand resting on his inner thigh as he’s watching you.

You swallow loudly and turn back to Tommy. He must have read the anxiety on your face as he takes your chin between his fingers and gives you a warm smile.

“Don’t be shy, baby. My brother just wanna watch. Let’s give him something to remember when you come babysit for him next time.”

You blush, biting your lip and dropping your head. It can’t be happening. It feels like a weird wet dream. But you see this gorgeous weeping cock in your hand and your mouth salivates. And you would be lying if you said that you didn’t fantasize about Mr Miller bending you over his kitchen counter after your shift and fucking you senseless. So you bend down and kitten-lick Tommy’s fat tip. The man shamelessly moans and your pussy tingles at the sound.

You hear Joel’s groan as he must have a great view of your ass and pussy. The depravity of this situation makes your mind hazy and you arch your back wiggling your ass a little as you’re aching to be touched again. Your hand leaves Tommy’s balls which you were caressing and snakes down to your naked mound. You rub yourself there and then dip your fingers between your wet folds. A pathetic whimper escapes your lips muffled by Tommy’s cock and he twitches against your tongue stimulated by the vibrations.

“I think my naughty babysitter needs some attention, little brother,” Joel rumbles behind you and you hear a creak of the chair and his steps.

Parting from Tommy’s cock with a pop you turn your head and see Joel getting down on one knee next to you. You’re leaning on Tommys thighs, your elbows on his knees.

“You’ve been so good for my brother, sweetheart,” Joel says in a gentle voice, putting his hand on your back. You feel his calloused palm sliding down to your ass and then coming back up to your shoulder blades. “Has he made you come, baby?”

You nod your head staring up at him with slightly parted mouth. You still can’t believe you’re naked in front of the man you’re babysitting for and his brother. With the latter's precum on your lips.

“I’m a gentleman, Joel,” Tommy chimes in sounding offended. He glides his fingers along your neck, “Ladies always come first.”

Joel smirks and leans closer to your face not minding the stiff length of his brother just inches from you both and whispers in your ear, “Ya want another one?”

He presses his lips to your cheek and kisses you before traveling down to your jaw and neck. He grabs a fistful of your hair and holds you in place as he starts sucking a hickey into the delicate skin of your neck. You shut your eyes with a set of moans and tilt your head back for him.

“Don’t damage the goods, Joel”, Tommy jokes and the degrading remark sends you further into the depths of arousal.

“Please, make me come, Mr Miller,” you plead and both brothers seem to love it. Joel’s groaning against your neck while Tommy takes his cock from you and begins jerking his shaft.

Joel parts from you and you feel him gently pushing your head down. You follow his wordless command, lowering your face to his brother's crotch.

Joel guides you and when you open your lips he impales your mouth on Tommy’s cock.

“Yeah, just like that. Suck on it, sweetie, give my brother the best birthday present.”

Joel brushes the hair away from your face and watches you work Tommy’s cock for some time. His eyes are glued to your every move, every bob of your head, every swipe of your tongue around Tommy’s tip. The younger brother is holding your head on the other side and rhythmically raising his hips slowly fucking your mouth.

All this time Joel’s touch doesn’t leave you, he caresses your head, rubs your back and sides, until his hand snakes to your front and he grabs your breast and twitches your nipple. Your slick is dripping down your legs now and you can’t take it anymore.

With your lips still wrapped around Tommy’s cock you turn slightly to Joel and glance up at him. He’s panting and his half lidded eyes are clouded with arousal. He reads your expression and not being able to control himself any longer too, he orders, “Get up, sweetheart. But keep sucking.”

You do as you’re told placing your feet on the floor and standing up still keeping Tommy in your mouth. Joel gets up with a groan and walks behind you.

“Mr Miller’s gonna take good care of you, baby,” Tommy promises with a smirk and holds your arm to keep you steady in a new position. “Make sure she moans around my dick, bro,” he says louder and Joel hums in response.

“I know how to take care of a girl, little brother, don’t worry,” Joel quips, standing behind you as his clothed hard-on is pressed to your ass. You feel his fingers squeeze your cheeks and he gives you a light slap. You jerk and Tommy flinches, as your mouth moves on his cock a little too roughly. Joel chuckles and Tommy scolds him him,

“Be gentle, Joel, she’s got a mouth full of my cock.”

Joel laughs a little but his next movements are careful and soft. His big hands glide along your sides and down to your bottom again, rubbing your skin and making you clench around nothing. You wiggle your ass a little in invitation and he reads your signal.

“Look at her, Tommy. Can’t wait to be fucked by my fat cock while sucking on another dick… ahh..she’s gonna get a glowing recommendation from me.”

Both men laugh and you feel your pussy ache even more when they’re talking about you as if you’re not there and you place your feet further apart. “Ya wanna come on my cock, sweetheart, or my mouth?” Joel asks and you hastily part from Tommy and breathe out, “Cock, sir.”

“Fuck, baby,” Joel rumbles and you hear him unbuckling his belt and discarding it on the floor. You expect him to pierce you with his member any second now but you hear shuffling and then his warm lips kiss your pussy from behind. You gasp and Tommy smiles, gently pressing your head back down, “She’s like a little doe, so easy to spook.”

You lick the underside of the younger brother’s cock while Joel is behind you, peppering your pussy with open mouth kisses. Then his tongue slips between your folds and travels from your clit to your entrance. He spreads your pussy with his thumbs and your core burns with desire. You’re completely exposed, and you whine remembering that it’s Joel Miller who is about to make you fall apart while you’re blowing his brother. Joel’s movements are sure and effective and very soon your belly and thighs are trembling with an upcoming orgasm.

Mr Miller surprises you again when his tongue glides up to your asshole and he gives it a kiss after spreading your cheeks. You moan loudly not being afraid to be heard as the music is still blaring behind the closed door.

Tommy and Joel hear you well though and the oldest brother parts from your ass to lightly slap your cheek, getting your attention, “Ya like it, sweetheart? Will you let Mr Miller fuck your asshole with his tongue?”

“Yeah,” your whine, the sound muffled by cock. You roll your eyes in ecstasy and Tommy lifts your head by the hair a little to see the results of his brother’s actions on your face. Meanwhile Joel is licking your tight ring as his fingers rub circles on your throbbing clit. When he points his tongue at your little hole and starts poking it moving it deeper little by little you almost sob from the pleasure and lose your rhythm. You can’t concentrate on sucking any longer so Tommy pulls you off his cock.

“Hold it wide for me, baby” he commands, keeping you face above his red swollen tip and you do as you’re told, darting out your tongue. Your whimpers and moans fill the room accompanied by the squelching sounds of Tommy jerking his cock and Joel’s slurping on your tight hole.

Tommy’s eyebrows are furrowed and his gaze runs over your face, breasts and then your ass, being eaten out by his brother. The view takes him over the edge and he shoots his cum on your chin, lips and tongue. You close your mouth around his tip and drink everything he’s giving you. When Tommy pats your hand, you part from him and rest your head on his thigh, inches from his semi hard cock.

Joel gets up with a grunt and you finally feel his tip nudging at your dripping entrance. He impales you on his cock in one swift move and you scream when his tip hits your cervix. He’s big and your pussy aches trying to accommodate his thick length. You close your eyes and focus on the way his cock is gliding inside you, rubbing your sweet spot. A couple more thrusts and your whole body is shaking, ecstasy coursing through your veins, clit twitching and walls contracting. Your juices flow around Joel’s cock and he groans, “Yeah, good girl.. Fuck, squeeze Mr Miller’s cock.”

He begins thrusting into you vigorously and Tommy keeps you in place holding you tight while his brother starts pumping you full of his hot cum. Joel’s rough hands are gripping your hips leaving handprints on your skin while his cock is squirting seed deep into your pussy.

“Doing so good, baby,” Tommy coos at you, while you're nothing but a trembling shaking mess. He’s watching you both unravel and his cock twitches.

When your climax subsides and Joel stills and pulls out you fall on your knees between Tommys legs.

Both men help you up and Joel puts you like a rag doll on Tommy’s lap. You feel Joel’s cum leak out of you on his brother’s jeans.

You lean on the chest of the birthday boy resting your head on his broad shoulder, completely spent, drunk on endorphins and the depravity of what you’ve just done. Tommy lights up a cigarette as Joel gathers your clothes and boots and comes up to the two of you. He hands them to you and then caresses your cheek with a thumb giving you a warm smile,

“I’ll see you on Monday, sweetheart. Bring your costume.”

You smile back with a nod and he leaves.

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Thank you for reading!

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!💖

Tag list: @missannwinchester @harriedandharassed @bbyanarchist @nervousmumbling

I’d love to rec the fics that have been feeding my obsession with the Miller brothers combo! Check them out if you haven’t yet!♥️🥵

The Wrong Way @romana-after-dark

Leopard Print @toxicanonymity

Stuffing @toxicanonymity

At the Table @toxicanonymity

Liquid Gold @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Two Hands to Hold @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Too Depraved 4 TV @bonezone44

Smack My B*tch Up @milla-frenchy

[nyoomfruits]

got my summer fest fic past the dreaded 5k mark (aka the word count where wips go to die) so!!! celebratory snippet

“All right everybody, rise and shine!” George’s voice blares through the Airbnb, and as Lando startles awake, sitting up straight in bed, he vows to give a tenner to the first person to chuck George’s megaphone in the pool.

George is still hollering away, but Lando pays him no mind, instead taking stock of the situation. Unfortunately, him breaking his ankle on the first day of their trip was not a dream, although the pain is at a pretty manageable level, thanks to the paracetamol Oscar gave him. Speaking of Oscar, as he glances next to him he has to conclude that Logan giving up his spot in the downstairs bedroom making Lanod share with Oscar wasn’t a dream either.

Oscar seems asleep still, his hair a wild mess and his face mostly buried into his pillow, turned away from Lando. Lando gently pokes him in the shoulder. “Oscar? I think Geroge wants us to get up.”

“Grfhmfng,” Oscar says, mostly into his pillow.

“I agree with you, but unfortunately I think if you don’t get up George will come in here and chuck you straight in the pool,” Lando says, poking a little more incessantly.

At this, Oscar looks up at least. He has tiny bleary eyes and a horrible case of bedhead. “Why,” he says, miserably, voice rough and scratchy from sleep.

“I think this one is on us, really. For giving him the power to organize the trip. I’m starting to think not having to book my own flight wasn’t really worth it being woken up with a megaphone at,” he checks his phone. “Seven in the morning.”

Oscar lets out a pitiful groaning sound, and promptly buries his face back into his pillow.

[gold-dustwomxn]

mystified

part 4

summary: after sudden attacks on women around town, you take a self defense class. ellie, your long standing crush is the instructor

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

cw: violence, alcohol consumption, smoking weed, smut mdni!!!!

oral (e receiving), strap (r receiving)

angst fluff and smut

a loud chiming paired with vibrations has you jumping up, hand pressed flat against your racing heart. your rude alarm blares into your ear as you groan into your pillow. shit never fails to scare you half to death time every single time. as you lay in your bed and wipe away the sleep from your eyes, your mind floods with ellie ellie ellie. you’ve been with her practically everyday and you can’t seem to get enough of her. she’s the first thing on your mind when you wake up, and the last thing on your mind before you fall asleep.

ellie🌿🗡️: Morning babe. I hope you have a good day. Try to pay attention in class instead of texting me. I’ll see you later🖤

me: good morninggg💗 i’ll try my best for u 🫡 try not to get injured at work again

you giggle and feel those butterflies in your stomach again. it’s pathetic how giddy she makes you feel from a simple text.

dina🤍: are u and ellie coming to the party tonight? istg if u say no

me: uggh idk. u know I hate those college parties

dina🤍: cmonnn u guys never come out. youve both been holed up in a lesbian fuck fest for like 2 weeks straight

me: LMAO stfu. fine I’ll ask ellie if she wants to go

ellie grudgingly agrees to go to said party for your sake, and because she’s been neglecting her friendship with jesse just a little bit— too preoccupied with wanting to spend as much time as possible with you, and you her.

she decides she’ll stay sober for the night so she can drive and keep an eye on you. as you walk into the party hand in hand, you’re flooded with an overwhelming stench of alcohol and weed, strobing lights and music so loud that you feel the bass thumping in your chest. it’s too fucking crowded and hot. you need a drink to loosen up.

“well, well, well, would you look at who the cat dragged in.” jesse smirks at the two of you, receiving a double eye roll from both you and ellie. “who the fuck speaks like that anymore jesse?” ellie says with a laugh. “just good to see you alive in the flesh and all.” dina giggles and attacks you with a warm hug.

she steals your attention away from ellie, fiddling with your shirt with a goofy smirk. you laugh and narrow your eyes, “what is it?” dina leans in closer to whisper, “so, what’s the deal with you two.. are you official yet?”

you look at ellie to make sure she isn’t watching and whisper, “no, we haven’t.. labeled anything? I don’t know.. I mean, I do wanna make it official, but I don’t wanna scare her away, you know? kinda just letting it play out and see what happens.”

she looks at you, unamused. “stop being a pussy, you guys have been in love with each other for years. It’s not like she’s some random girl that you just met.” you roll your eyes, “relaxxx, it’ll happen when it happens.” dina laughs and shakes her head, “whatever you say. I need another drink.”

as she walks over to mix a gross concoction of god knows what, your eyes drift back to ellie who is preoccupied, deep in conversation with jesse. your eyes wander over every inch of her, biting your lip. her muscles are pulled taut against her flannel, jeans tight around her thighs, intoxicating green eyes glowing from the flashing lights in the room. one drink has you so fucking horny, it’s ridiculous.

ellie catches you staring and raises an eyebrow, “you good, babe?” she chuckles. you look away, trying to save face. “yup, I’m feeling good. can you come with me to the bathroom?” she nods with no hesitation, innocently thinking that you just want her to stick close by.

as soon as the door closes, you pull her tightly against you by the loopholes of her jeans and slam your lips into hers. she freezes for a moment, caught off guard, but quickly catches up, slipping her tongue into your mouth with a groan and sliding her hands down to squeeze your ass.

she then tugs at your hair, pulling your head back, breathless and takes a look at your glossy eyes, and down at your swollen lips. “what do you think you’re doing, huh?” she rasps out, smirking. you lean in, placing wet, needy kisses on her neck, pawing and squeezing at her biceps, “I wanna go down on you so bad right now.” you practically whine in her ear.

she chuckles, “right now? in here?” she looks around the bathroom, scrunching up her face. “we’ve been here for like a half hour, babe.”

you cup her through her jeans, watching her breath get heavy, “c’mon, don’t you wanna feel my mouth on you?” you pout.

she removes your hand and pulls you tight against her, brushing your hair to the side, placing a kiss on your neck. you whimper as she licks a slow stripe up to the sweet spot behind you ear, giving it a small suck.

“you’re gonna be a good girl for me and wait until later.” she whispers into the shell of your ear, making you shudder. you mentally curse her for having more self control than you, while ellie mentally curses herself because she’s horny as fuck now, but loves teasing you. “ugh, fine, ellie.” she chuckles and pats your cheek, leaning in to give you one more lingering kiss.

dina being dina convinces you to take multiple shots of tequila with her while ellie stands with jesse watching the both of you dance, laughing in amusement at the two of you.

as the night goes on, you start to stumble. ellie grabs onto you, “hey, baby, I think it’s time you lay off the drinks now, huh?” she chuckles at you. you wrap your arms around her neck and nod, “mhmm, I’m getting tired. can we leave soon?” you slur out. she nods, wrapping her arms around your waist, “yeah, we can go now.”

after you say your goodbyes to dina and jesse, you walk behind ellie, trying to make your way through the sea of bodies to head out.

all of a sudden, you feel a hand squeeze your ass and you gasp, stumbling into ellie. you turn around and see a guy grinning, reeking of booze. “don’t fucking touch me!”

ellie turns around and takes in the scene, her face morphing into one of rage. she places you behind her and shoves him hard against his chest. “back the fuck up,” she grits out.

he laughs mockingly. “oh, what, is this your bitch?” time seems to stop for a moment, a chill traveling down your spine as you watch her face drop, making you suddenly feel stone cold sober.

ellie punches him square in the face, making him stumble back. people begin to move out the way, circling them, whooping and hollering as if it’s a fucking show.

he lunges at her, trying to hit back. she catches his wrist and twists his arm, as she elbows him in the face, making him fall down and grab his now seemingly broken nose.

your jaw drops as you watch ellie climb on top of him, knee to his chest as she throws punch after punch. “ellie! stop!” she doesn’t hear you, doesn’t even seem to be present in her own body.

jesse hears the commotion and runs into the room. he grabs ellie, trying to pull her off of him “ellie, stop! you got him! you’re gonna get arrested if you don’t stop!”

ellie stands up, chest heaving as she flexes and shakes out her aching hand, knuckles bloody. she looks at you, her gaze softening with guilt as she takes in your upset demeanor.

you look around at all of the people staring, and grab ellie’s arm. “c’mon, we’re leaving. now.” she looks at you as you swiftly walk ahead of her to her car. “I’m sorry-“

you cut her off, “ellie, what the fuck?! you can’t just go around beating the shit out of people like that.”

she huffs and throws her arms up in the air defensively, looking as if she was about to speak, but stops herself.

“you looked like you were gonna kill him.”

she scoffs “I wasn’t gonna kill him.” you turn to look at her, “well, if jesse hadn’t been able to stop you, who knows what would’ve happened.”

she looks down at her tattoo and rubs the skin, “guys like him need to learn that they can’t get away with shit like that! and... and seeing him look so fucking proud of himself… looking at you like you were a piece of fucking meat.”

you observe her digging her nails into her tattoo and realize where her mind is drifting off to. you stop walking and grab her face, speaking softly. “look at me. I’m safe and you’re safe. I understand that you wanna protect me, but you can’t lose it like that, okay? you need to learn to walk away unless it’s absolutely necessary. I don’t want you getting into trouble.”

she looks between your eyes and nods, grabbing gently onto one of your wrists. “okay. I’m sorry,” she whispers.

“It’s over now. everything’s okay.” you nod at her slowly and lean in to peck her lips. “c’mon, let’s go back to your place so I can clean you up.”

“you don’t have to-“ you cut her off with a semi-serious glare and she nods.

on the drive home, she rubs your thigh softly and takes small glances at you. she chews on her bottom lip anxiously, thinking about how you’re able to ground her. her chest tightens with shame— you shouldn’t have to deal with her issues.

ellie stands between your legs as you sit on top of the sink, cleaning her knuckles gently with deep concentration. she watches you and thinks about how she’s falling for you, hard. she’s never felt this way about someone before and she’d be lying if she said it didn’t scare her a little. her thoughts are interrupted as you finish and kiss the inside of her wrist. she gives you a soft smile when you look up at her and leans in to kiss you, “thanks, babe.”

ellie plucks away at her guitar as she smokes a joint while you lay there sipping on water and watch her in comfortable silence. unbeknownst to you, her mind races, picturing the look on your face after she basically bashed that guys face in.

she doesn’t think she deserves someone good and sweet like you. the idea of letting you go fucking crushes her, but it’s better to let you decide if you wanna end things now before the two of you get more serious, as if you’re both not in deep already.

she takes a hit of her joint and places her guitar to the side, laying a shaky palm on your thigh. “hey... I’m sorry about earlier.” you shake your head, “it’s okay, I promise. I’m not upset anymore.”

she looks down for a moment before looking back at you, “it’s just... you don’t deserve to have to deal with my bullshit. I understand if you don’t wanna… do this anymore.” she gestures between the two of you and fidgets nervously with her fingers.

you sit up quickly and grab her hand, stroking her knuckles. “is that what you want?” she looks at your teary eyes and shakes her head immediately. “no, no, it’s not what I want. but I want you to do what’s best for you.”

“ellie, I really like you. I’m not afraid of baggage, you don’t have to push me away.”

she looks at you, unconvinced. “I’m a fucking mess, ___. I don’t know if you’ve picked up on it yet, but I’m not the easiest person to be around sometimes.”

“and you know what’s best for me?”

“no, I’m not saying that. I just-” she throws her hands up, trying to figure out how to convey what she’s feeling.

“you’re not some broken, cold hearted person, ellie. I can decide for myself what’s good for me. you’re good for me.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” she whispers, eyes tearing up.

you inch closer to her on your hands and knees and give her a soft, lingering kiss.

“then, don’t.” you whisper against her lips and pull back.

she looks back at you in silence for a few moments in a daze, completely enamored with you.

you give her a teary smile and let your words settle in for her, “plus, it’s kinda hot seeing you like that. you still haven’t taught me more self defense moves like you said you would, you know.” you laugh trying to make her feel better. she lets out a weak chuckle and shakes her head.

“no, but seriously,” you place your palm on her cheek to keep eye contact, making sure she takes in your sincerity, “I lo- like you.. a lot and I wanna be with you, okay? we all have our issues. you’ll have to stick around if you wanna see mine,” you smile. ellie’s ears perk up, wondering if she was just imagining that you almost said you love her. she chuckles and nods, “okay,” she whispers, “so does this mean you wanna be my girlfriend then?”

you look at her in mock offense, “is that how you’re gonna ask me?”

she laughs, “okay, okay.” she clears her throat and straightens out her back. “___, would you like to be my girlfriend?”

you can’t help but laugh at her attempt to be serious. “yeah, I’ll be your girl.”

she gives you a wide grin and cups your face, giving you a passionate kiss.

you both pull away breathless. “you know.. I think we should consummate this relationship.”

she laughs and raises an eyebrow, “oh yeah? and how’s that?”

“well.. for one, I didn’t get to do what I wanted to earlier.”

“mhmm, you are right about that. go ahead baby.”

as ellie lays on her back, you kiss along her stomach down her v-line to her inner thighs, each kiss making her muscles tense up.

“c’mon, enough teasing.” she huffs, breath heavy with glossy eyes.

you shake your head in defiance and she grabs onto your jaw. “be good.” she says sternly, but strokes your cheek gently with her thumb.

she watches you lick a stripe up her wet folds and her eyes roll back, letting out a shaky breath.

“s-stick your tongue out, baby.”

you flatten your tongue and she takes a fistful of your hair, slowly bucking her hips against your face. “jesus.. fuck. love your fucking mouth so much.”

looking up at her with doe eyes, you moan, and she grunts, “s-so perfect for me. making me feel so good, baby.”

you bob your head up and down with her thrusts, and suck hard on her clit, making her whimper unwillingly. “oh fuuuuck. good fucking girl, don’t stop.”

she grips your hair tighter and grinds faster against your face, head falling back into the pillows and swallowing hard. “gonna cum.. fuck!”

finally her body seizes up, her hole clenching around your tongue as her arousal seeps into your mouth. “holy fuck.” she breathes out shakily. “fuckin-“ she grunts, “swallow all of it.” she holds your head in place, rocking slowly as you happily lap up every inch of her cum. “yeah.. good girl.” you pull back and brush your fingers over her thighs with a love drunk smile.

she pants and looks down at you with furrowed brows, swiping her thumb across your glossy lips, spreading around her slick and your saliva before sticking her thumb into your mouth. you suck on it and she closes her eyes, sighing.

you climb on top of her, kissing her deeply, both of you moaning into the kiss. “wait,” she pulls back.

“what?” you whine at the loss of her lips against yours.

she chuckles and sits up, opening her nightstand drawer and pulls out a box. “how would you feel if I used this on you?”

you examine the unopened box and your eyes widen when you see what’s inside, making your thighs squeeze together. “yeah-yes.” you stutter.

she laughs and traps you with her legs to flip you on your back, “yes, what?”

you yelp and giggle, “you can use it on me.” she grins and leans in to kiss you.

after ellie coaxes multiple orgasms out of you with her mouth and fingers, she gets up to grab the strap, adjusting the harness around her. “okay, you sure you want it?”

you swallow hard in nervousness and excitement. “y-yeah I want it. just go slow.”

she leans down and gives you a soft kiss. “of course, baby.”

ellie lubes up the dildo and strokes the shaft before settling between your shaky legs, giving them small kisses. “you nervous?” you nod, “mhm, a little.”

she caresses your thighs and gives them gentle squeezes, “it’s okay, I’ll be gentle and if you want me to stop just tell me, okay?” you nod, “okay.”

as she slides the strap up and down your folds, you let out a whimper and spread your legs further apart. she has to bite down hard on her lip to hold back a moan.

“you ready?”

“yeah,” your breath gets heavier in anticipation.

she slowly inches her way in while rubbing small circles on your clit, eyes focused on your face. when your eyes start to tear up, she leans down and peppers soft kisses all over your face. “you’re doing so good for me, baby.”

as she bottoms out, you both moan in unison. “you okay?”

“y-yes, you can move.”

ellie starts out with a slow pace, rolling her hips into you, gradually going deeper and harder with each thrust. she feels her own arousal pooling as she watches your face twist in pleasure and the view of your cunt sucking her in.

“fuck, ellie, g-go faster please,” you moan out. ellie smirks at your words, "my pleasure, sweet girl."

she wraps your legs around her waist and starts to increase the pace and vigor of her thrusts, pounding into you hard and fast. you can feel every inch of her as she slides in and out of you, filling you up with such intensity that has you moaning uncontrollably. she groans “you look so fucking good like this,” leaning down to kiss you messily, panting into each other mouths.

she watches you with heavy lids, drunk off of the sounds of your moans and the wet sounds of your cunt. “feels good, pretty girl?”

“mmph. so good, ellie. so good.”

as she starts to increase her pace even more, you grip onto her shoulders tightly, pulling her chest to yours, sinking your nails into her skin.

“taking me s-so fucking well baby, knew you could do it.” she feels herself getting lost in her own pleasure as the base of the strap bumps against her clit just right.

your body starts to tremble against hers, with ellie having to work harder to thrust in and out of you, your moans turning into high-pitched whimpers, and she knows you’re close.

“el-ellie! fuck, I’m gonna-” she holds onto you tightly and watches you as you slip into ecstasy, and can’t help but moan herself. she thinks you’re absolutely breathtaking like this. and that view alone is enough to make her eyes roll back, triggering her own orgasm. her hips sputter as she slaps into you, leaning down to kiss you sloppily.

she lifts her head and lets out ragged breaths, her eyes glazed over, “you did so good for me, baby.” she kisses your forehead gently.

leaning on her elbows, she stares down at you, eyes mapping out every inch of your face, completely infatuated.

“I lo-“ she stops herself, it’s too early to say I love you. or is it? you’ve known each other for years, and she could’ve sworn you almost said it earlier. she decides against it, not wanting to ruin the moment.

you run your hand through her hair and brush your nose against hers, “say it,” you whisper. she looks between your eyes and swallows thickly.

“I love you,” she whispers shakily.

you lift your head, slotting your lips against hers in a slow, passionate kiss.

“I love you, too.”

tysm for reading ily all 💗💗

taglist: @me-and-your-husband @fireflyels @cinnamonmilf

[daily-broco]

Blare Fest 2023

[katsheadinclouds]

Romance

Javier Peña x f!reader

summary: The night is always easier for Javier when he's with you, even if it means thinking about the possibility of ending up alone. Maybe this time he's done running away from happiness.

warnings: secret relationship, smutty happenings and thoughts, mild angst, smoking, mention of drinking, hopeful ending, no pronouns for reader, no use of y/n, reader is a blank canvas. Not beta read! If I forgot something, please let me know.

word count: 2.4k

notes: The happiest of birthdays to Jo, undercoverpena 💛💛💛 I hope you've had the most amazing time celebrating and I'm wishing you the best on this new trip around the sun. You've written one of my favorite fics ever and to be on this platform and reading the art that you share has been a massive privilege. Thank you for making this fandom feel safe. You gave me this lovely tan color called desert sands as my chosen shade on your birthday bash roulette and my mind went immediately to our man Javier and one of the shirts he wears. I hope you, and anyone else who might read this, enjoy your time with this fic.

dividers by saradika

In the night, Javier stands by the open window. The sounds from the street come in through it, an ambulance and police cars with their sirens blaring make his heart thump uncomfortably in his chest. The cigarette between his fingers smolders bright, the smoke burns in his lungs, yet he relies on it like nothing else could understand him fully.

He’s pouring his stress into it. The already aching muscles irritated from chasing after people who Javier knows are always two steps ahead of them and their efforts to stop the violence. His gun in its holster, unceremoniously laying on the floor, is a reminder of the violence he’s feeding into. What other option does he have? Anything and everything they do, he does, never seems to be enough.

You stir in your sleep. Javier’s tan shirt is resting on your shoulders. It doesn’t cover your bare skin below your hips. Javier pulls another breath of smoke into his lungs, and then one more, while watching your slumber. Your back rises and falls in a slow rhythm, peaceful, far away from the stress and adrenaline you both carry at work every day.

You shouldn’t have asked him to come home with you that one evening a few months ago after a night out at a bar. You shouldn’t have gotten the courage to make a move. You shouldn’t have wrapped your lips around the cigarette he was smoking, still between his fingers, your eyes glued to his when you thanked him for sharing his smoke.

You shouldn’t have touched his thigh under the table with your hand, shown him what you wanted from him. And you certainly shouldn’t have wrapped your lips around him, kneeling on your bedroom floor, your eyes adoring every inch of him. Your hands on him. His hands in your hair, unable to resist your advantages.

You act like nothing ever happens between the two of you outside of work. You wish him and Steve good morning when you see each other in passing. You ask if they got one of the hundreds of memos they receive every day. You wish them a good night at the end of the workday, ready to go home after endless hours in the stuffy office. You’re always around, but you keep your distance.

“I’m being professional,” you said after that hours long fuck fest fueled by stress in the safety of your bedroom. “We’re colleagues. Nothing is going to change.”

Yet everything has changed. Javier comes to visit every night after work when he’s in the city. You open the door for him without questions, you don’t even ask him to come around anymore. It’s an unsaid agreement at this point.

He knocks once, then two times fast, and finishes with one more knock to let you know that it’s him, no one else. You don’t ask who it is, you don’t hesitate to open the door. You just do and let him slip in, your hand always catching his to stop him from escaping from your reach.

The kiss to welcome him in is gentle, a single touch of your lips against his. You offer him a drink, the thick rimmed tumblers always available next to the amber colored whiskey. It’s also an unsaid agreement that he’s there only to have sex. Nothing more. You don’t deny him, you never tell him to stop, you only want more, and you always give more.

“I would let you do whatever you wanted to me. I would let you have me in any way you want,” you said in the afterglow of your release. Your pupils were blown black, and your breath was still out of your reach. Your legs trembled when you tried to get off his lap, off him.

Javier’s hands squeezed your thighs, either to steady you or to keep you deeply seated on his cock for a while longer. It was well past the hours of the early morning; your alarm was going to go off soon. You would curse at him for coming by after midnight, but you would still open the door for him the next time when he got to yours as late, or even later.

“In any way, hm?”

“Whatever you like,” you hugged yourself around him, your knees against his ribs, and he was screwed.

Javier wanted to believe that the words set all his nerve endings on fire because you were still stuffed full of him. That because you spread yourself open for him every time he came around, the words only had a physical meaning.

You absorbed the nausea he had in the pit of his stomach, somehow mixed with the anticipation of having you at the end of the day. You were someone he learned to trust. He could always come to yours no matter what. He could always rely on you to catch him. You always opened the door, and you never denied him access to you.

The offer was too tempting. Javier tipped you on the bed and kept himself lodged inside of you. Your limbs were weak and pliant. You closed your eyes when he ran his hands down your sides, admiring your figure, the curves where his hands fit perfectly on your waist. You emptied your lungs when he pulled out of you, spilling your mixed releases on your sheets.  

You inhaled the heavy air of your bedroom in preparation. One last breath before he’d pin you under himself. Before his lips attached to your sternum.

Tasting you was like coming home. Feeling you squirm under him in anticipation was exciting. Hearing you whine his name was intoxicating. He didn’t need drugs. He had you.

You came on his tongue buried deep in your folds, sucking, playing with you, taking you to the edge over and over until Javier decided when you had had enough. Your thighs were glued to his shoulders, your heels against his shoulder blades. You ground against his mouth, your hands holding onto his hair, pulling him in, and pulling him off you at the same time. Even when the pleasure crossed the line of too much, you still stayed put and lost your breath with another high as his moustache gathered the slick from you like he was saving it for later.

“You shouldn’t say that.” Javier muttered when you got out of the shower. He was sprawled with his legs out on your bed, watching you. You had outrun the moon without a moment of true rest, and the sun had caught up to you, ending the night with its first rays.

Your legs were unstable still and you couldn’t balance on your other foot when you pulled a fresh pair of panties on. You leaned against your vanity and stumbled through dressing yourself.

“I meant it.” When the door closed after you, leaving him to sleep in your bed, the words sunk in. He wasn’t just screwed. He was ruthlessly in over his head.

Javier had already risked it all for desire, but risking opening up was another thing completely. You observed him in ways he wasn’t aware of. You saw him in ways that others didn’t, in the safety of your bed, in his most vulnerable, in his most rageful.

You saw his quietness in the tenderness he showed you. You took it all out of him, one kiss at a time, forcing him to breathe and put the pressure to the side for an hour or few. You took him apart in ways that made him comfortable in his skin, but uncomfortable in ways that you adored him. With your eyes, with your words, with your gentle hands as you undressed him and showed him slowness.

When your hands pulled off his body and left him needing, you gave Javier all the control. He could feel the goosebumps against your heated skin, caress the pebbles of your nipples and hear your shaking inhales and exhales.

His lips on your stomach, on the sensitivity of your inner thighs, smell you dripping against your panties and touch you in the most lewd ways you probably ever had allowed anyone to touch. Your gasps and moans vibrated in his spine and made him painfully hard. Every time, without a question, you edged him without doing it intentionally.

And in the night, Javier could take you slow, take you apart one push of his hips at a time. One moan at a time. One run of your wet lips against his jaw and neck at a time until your kisses would only be little gasps as your high rushed him to reach his release soon after you.  

And he could take you hard, borderline ferociously, your hands trying to hold onto him, your nails scratching against his back until imprints of small half moons would litter his shoulder blades and the back of his neck. He would have them for days, and he would do it again, just to have his skin remember your cries of pleasure that he forced down his own throat to not let you wake up the neighbors.

It was impossible for Javier to stop it. Stop you from wanting him, stop himself from letting you. He watched you act like it didn’t mean anything, like it was just the two of you looking for a release. He heard your promise of this not changing anything over and over again in his head but saw that you had changed in every way possible after letting him in your bed.

“Tell me something about yourself,” you once asked while playing with a curl on his forehead and cracked your own promise into pieces.

“What’s there to tell,” he answered, and you dropped the topic immediately. The disappointment radiated off you in waves, but you hid it in licking your tongue against his, not caring about the friction of his moustache against your upper lip.

His intentions were never cruel, not to you, or to himself. Yet he was like a monster, coming back to you without you asking him to. To himself for letting him knock that pattern on your door.

You sigh in your sleep. Javier stumps the burned cigarette into a bowl and closes the window. Your naked leg is warm with his fingers gliding up against it, the back of your knee still damp from staying with your cheek pressed against the mattress, available for him on your knees for as long as he wanted.

He tilts his head the higher his hand rises. Your skin bursts with shivers when his fingers caress the roundness of your thigh and dips between them. He drags his hand against the crease under your ass, the meatiness of the muscle as his hand continues its exploration of your body, the curve of your hip, and under his shirt.

It’s easy to peel off you. Javier’s sweat still clings to it from the day. Your sweat clings to it from the night. He’s not sure when you had put it on. He only woke up to see you covered in it. He reveals the softness of your stomach, the shape of your waist, the underside of your breast. He draws a line with his thumb there.

Your eyes are open, watching him. Your face is half crumbled against your pillow, the worn out linen of your pillowcase. You’re somewhere between dream and wakefulness.

“Come back to sleep,” you whisper, your throat thick with sleep and the remnants of him. Javier moves the shirt off your shoulder to press his lips there. You sigh, relax against his mouth and move enough to give him space to follow you to the easiness of rest. Your hand follows the scrapes from your nails that are still fresh and tender. Your cold fingers look for the warmth of his skin, the burn you left there.

“What’s on your mind?” You ask, already slipping away from him in his arms. You’re pulling him under with you, the sleep in your scent intoxicating. You lean in a little closer until you’re glued against him. Javier would want to push you away if you knew what he was thinking.

The hope of a future. He has it in his arms.

It would be the easier choice to let you go. When this is all over, when this terror is done, it would be easiest to end this. You don’t deserve the pain he has convinced he always causes.

Yet underneath there’s a promise of the other side. He’d take you out. He wouldn’t let this relationship stay hidden inside the four walls of your bedroom anymore. His imagination runs rampant with the images of himself in public with you.

To see you smile under the sun, with your hand in his with people around. Your voice in his ear when you tell him about everything and nothing, not just you sighing out his name in the dead of night. He would’ve never guessed ending up in Colombia also meant meeting you. Meeting the possibility of a next day that isn’t full of violence and loneliness.  

“You,” Javier breathes into your hair. The slow rhythm under his palm against your ribcage is proof enough that you’re not listening.

He would tell you who he is eventually. He’ll answer who he was before all this, before you stepped into his life and turned it upside down. He’ll let you see him in daylight, not only in the moonlight that smooths out all the edges, regrets and flaws. He’ll let you in on the good and the ugly, the person he, too, sometimes wants to turn his back to.

He’ll tell you about how he grew up too quick, too sorrowful, missing the family he didn’t have anymore. It’s just him, his dad and the house he once called home. Now it’s filled with stories he cherishes in the silence of his own memory.

Javier will forgive himself eventually. For thinking the worst of himself, for needing you to get away from him. He’ll keep on pretending though, with you, that nothing has changed. And this is just a mutual contract of desire.

“I want you to know,” he says into the glowing orange of your bedroom without any sound, the move of his mouth registering in the muscles of his face. He lets the weight of your body drag him over the border of sleep, melt against you and taste the sweetness of bliss.

[erotic-grope-fest]

Has this ever happened to you?

You’re moping around your wannabe punk aunt’s shambolic Chelsea flat, James Blake blaring, when you begin to feel a little peckish. You’re blessedly alone and go in search of a snack in the depths of the sofa.

You’ve just caught yourself a nice, juicy rat, but before you can make that first swipe of your knife into the soft, warm, blood-filled neck, your imagination is flooded with delectable visions of blue eyes and bronze curls…

...and you find yourself haunted, not by the wraiths of your ancestral Victorian manor house, but by a thirst you can’t ever seem to quench.

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[reidslovely]

Just a Tap

Synopsis: Before they were Peter and Bashful they were strangers with an annoying (semi-traumatic) meet cute.

Pairing: Frat!Peter x Fem!Reader/OC

CW: None really, car accident? maybe if you can count that. Swearing.

Reblog or comment in place of liking this post, pretty please.

Pulling out of ESU parking structure six was a hell fest. There was a constant flow of traffic that seemingly never let up, and a ton of pedestrians that would either wait for all the cars to pull out before crossing the path, or simply used the heavy traffic flow to their advantage. (Y/N) pushed her head back into her seat frustrated, why was New York traffic such a nightmare. The highway traffic started to let up and she sat straight up breathing a sigh of relief. 

“Fucking finally.” 

She looked right and then left before letting off her gas, letting her car roll. Out of nowhere a skateboarder rolled in front of her, causing her to barely tap him with her car. But still she felt terrible. She slammed on her breaks, her hands flying up to her mouth. The boy slammed his hands on the hood of her car, throwing his hands up. He was quite obviously laughing at the situation, and did not seem injured at all. Placing her car in park and throwing her flashers on she basically threw herself out of the vehicle, the skateboarder had already started walking away tossing a look over his shoulder. (Y/N), however, was frozen in place. 

“I am so sorry, are you okay? Do you need a ride?” She yelled after him, looking over her shoulder to make sure no other cars were leaving behind her. 

“I’m good! Just wanted to play it up a little bit.” 

 He laughs, turning, his skateboard in hand. “We should both watch where we are going next time.” He yelled back smiling. “You’re too pretty to be hitting boys with your car.” 

(Y/N) shook her head, swallowing the tears that had built up in her eyes. How could he just be joking about this. Then she saw the shirt: yellow with a red Theta Tau logo on it with ‘ESU est. 1930.’ stitched below it. Frat boys. Suddenly she felt less bad for tapping the bleached blonde with her car. 

“But I skate through here the same time everyday, maybe don’t hit me next time okay?” 

“How about I make sure I don’t miss next time?” She yells back getting into her car, now annoyed that he found the whole interaction funny when she was trying to be sincere. The blonde smiled in response, she watched him turn and skate away. She checked both ways multiple times and pulled onto the road heading to pick her friend up from work.

- 

Fraternity row was lit up in all different colors, the first football game of the season had just ended and the whole street was celebrating the victory. M.J. wrapped her arm around (Y/N) as they walked down the street. 

“Come on you seriously can’t still be hung up on the douchebag that skated out in front of you. He was in the wrong not you, he was jaywalking..jay..skating? Doesn’t matter.” The red head shook her head, her curls shaking. “He’s a dick for that and I’ll tell him if we ever see him. Now please relax and party. Please, it's the first big frat crawl of the semester.” 

“Fine..yeah, you’re right.” 

“I know I am.” M.J. kissed her friend's head, and started to say something else before being cut off. 

“Hey! Watson! Hey!”

M.J. and (Y/N) turned their heads quickly trying to spot the voice that came blaring towards them. A head of blonde hair was in front of them in seconds. A lanky guy stood before them engulfing M.J. in a hug which she gladly returned. “Oh my god. Osborn you scared me, hey this is my roommate and friend (Y/N). (Y/N), this is Harry the guy I was telling you about.”

Harry Osborn was a name you were all too familiar with. M.J. had been in love with him since summer orientation when they met and got stuck in the elevator together. They’d been talking ever since. 

“Hey nice to finally meet you.”

“Yeah you too.” Harry smiles at her. “Hey, why don’t you guys come into Theta and party?” He offered up, pointing in the direction of the bright yellow door contrasting against the white siding of the huge house. 

“Look at that line, no thanks.” (Y/N) laughed.

“No no it’s my frat, well I’m a pledge but I can get y’all in come on.”

-

(Y/N) stood against the back wall of the party, a black plastic cup in hand as she sipped the vodka sprite mixture out of it. If she could fold in on herself she would, she didn’t even like frat crawls. She only went because M.J. begged her, and she didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to hang out with her. However, M.J. was nowhere in sight. Osborn had stolen her away as soon as they got into the house. 

“Well..look who it is.” A voice pooked around the corner at her, she jumped slightly. “Oh come on don’t be bashful. You already hit me with your car.” 

It was the blonde guy from yesterday, he leaned against the wall next to her. Smiling at her slightly. “I said I was sorry, you walked out in front of me.”

“I did yeah sorry. But it’s really rude of you.” (Y/N) stomped her foot wanting to crawl in a hole and cry. “I didn’t mean too hi-”

“No not that. I mean not asking for my name..it was the least you could do after all.”

Her brows furrowed, mouth forming a smile ‘o’. Her eyes feel to the ground and she bit the inside of her cheek. 

“Peter Parker..and you?”

“(Y/N) (Y/L).” 

Peter smiled and slid down the wall sitting on the floor, waiting for her to join him. 

“Nice to meet you (Y/N)…again.”

Wrote this very quickly this morning because the lab is empty and have no one coming in until later.

[theharrowing]

Showstopper 📸 4: Completely different wavelengths

Hoseok knows the rumors.

Everyone in the industry knows the rumors.

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

📸 Hoseok x Yoongi

📸 word count: 20.7k

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

📸 warnings: a lot of angst (Yoongi is really mean; Hoseok cries a lot; heavy drinking); smut (bottom Yoongi, top Hoseok; anal fingering & sex; sex against the wall; masturbation)

📸 notes: we meet again!!! i have missed you, dear readers.

📸 written for the BTS Found Fest!

📸 thanks to @neoneunnajimin for beta reading.

📸 posted sept. 2024 | read on ao3

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

It is a little after 9:00 pm when Hoseok's phone begins to vibrate. 

In hindsight, putting it on silent would have been better. Despite the lack of shrill ringtone blaring through the room, the way the phone rattles against his coffee table has his shoulders rising to his ears and his anxiety ramping up. 

He knows that it is unlikely that it is Jimin, Taehyung, or Jeongguk because they are all the type to text first and then call, unless it is an emergency – with the exception of Jimin's love of facetime. And it would be lit up with a photo of one of them if that were the case. 

From where he sits, it is clear that the screen is black with white text on the top, and there are very few people who Hoseok communicates with regularly who he has not saved a contact photo for. 

With each second that passes, Hoseok finds he has to force himself to breathe just a little slower. And then it stops, and he lets out a large huff. SpongeBob yells in his strange, silly vibrato on the television screen while Hoseok stares at his phone, waiting for it to start ringing once more. 

Seconds pass, and his shoulders begin to relax. His breathing begins to slow. He thinks he may be in the clear. 

But then his phone buzzes against the table just once to indicate a text message has come in, and Hoseok gasps, shoulders jumping toward his ears once more. He lets out a sharp breath and leans forward to pick up his device conceding finally to finding out what is going on. 

The screen taunts him with one missed call from Min Asshole, but it is the message notification that really makes bile spread throughout Hoseok's guts. The message is short and to the point, and not at all what Hoseok could have expected.

Min Asshole I suppose I deserve this.

Hoseok almost feels guilty. There is a tremble to his hands as he stares at the message, reading and rereading it. Suddenly, he feels the urge to respond – to console. He wants to apologize for slipping out, and he wants to speak his mind and tell Yoongi just what led him to panic and run away. 

But what difference would it make? He and Yoongi are not only on completely different wavelengths, Hoseok wonders if the two of them are from separate dimensions. 

He cannot fathom how someone can speak to Hoseok the way he does but then insist that they are nothing more than fuckbuddies. Nobody has ever made me feel this way.

Hoseok rolls his eyes, sinks back against the couch, and groans, "Fuck off," to his own thoughts, to his racing heart, to the audacity of feeling the urge to respond. How dare Yoongi expect Hoseok to coddle his feelings at a time like this.

He stares at the silent, black device that rests in his palms and he spirals thinking about all the things he might say in response. "I just think it's real funny that—" "Yeah, you fucking deserve—" "Pray tell, Min Yoongi, why do you feel that way??? Hmm??? Are you finally becoming self-aware???"

With a sigh, Hoseok tosses his phone to the table, gets up, and walks away. He storms into the kitchen where he paces back and forth in front of his refrigerator, basking in the overwhelming anxiety that swims. 

He wishes he could be an asshole like Yoongi. He thinks things would be so much easier if he had the ability to just pretend nothing happened and ignore him for several days, the way Yoongi did with him just last weekend.

But he cannot. Already, Hoseok feels his resolve crumbling. He paces, fighting the urge to crack open a bottle of soju, deciding that drinking away his frustration alone in his apartment is not the honorable thing to do. 

He already has the unhealthy habit of pining for a man like Yoongi to ruin his life; he does not need to become someone who gets drunk alone whenever his heart is challenged. He would never be sober again. 

Hoseok storms back to his phone and picks it up. He sends out a distress beacon to his friends, telling them that he needs to unwind. There is a chance of disappointment, being that it is the beginning of the week, but it is not as if his friends work typical nine-to-five jobs.

Luckily for Hoseok, one of the trio reaches out immediately, and he springs into action getting ready for a night out at the club.

* * *

Being the type of person who likes to match people's energy is often quite challenging when it comes to Hoseok's friendship with Taehyung because the man is so eccentric, he never knows what to expect. 

Tonight, Taehyung's style is somewhat subdued with a plain white tee tucked into relaxed-fit blue jeans. A black leather belt and black boots compliment the dark black eyeliner and shadow that accent his eyes, and tucked away in a coat check closet is a black leather jacket with white tassels that hang from the seams on the chest and arms. 

His dark brown, wavy hair is shaggy and hanging in his eyes, similar to Hoseok's, which is styled just enough to appear unstyled, as always. Hoseok wears his favorite tan and light blue silk shirt covered in the Dior logo, buttoned to the top and hanging loose over tight black mid-thigh shorts, and black sneakers. 

The pair shoot back strawberry-flavored concoctions and grind on the dancefloor. Hoseok touches and flirts with his friend, but he feels more distant than usual. Whereas he usually allows himself to let go and give in to excitement and pleasure, especially with Taehyung, tonight the spark just isn't there. 

Taehyung must sense it because he keeps a bit of a distance, and is more playful with his glances and winks than usual. Hoseok is grateful for his friend's ability to read his mood, which allows him to relax a bit more.

Once they have had their fill, panting and sweating with smiles on their faces, Taehyung nods his head toward the exit. Hoseok knows that he is asking if he would like to go outside to talk, and Hoseok nods in response. 

Hoseok heads to the bar to order two whiskey sours while Taehyung retrieves his jacket from coat check. The lines are thankfully not too long, and Hoseok finds Taehyung leaning against the wall near the front door, waiting with his jacket draped over his shoulders. 

"Thanks, hyung," Taehyung says as he takes his drink from Hoseok and spins toward the door, tassels fanning out from the movement. 

To the left of the entrance is a fenced-in patio, and Hoseok frowns as they walk through cigarette smoke to get to a table on the far end, near the wall. The black metal seat is cold, and he hugs his arms around himself as he settles. 

"You seem to have a lot on your mind," Taehyung pouts, pulling his drink to his lips. 

Hoseok takes a sip and lets it settle on his tongue, tangy-sweet. Then he places the glass down on the small, round metal table and sighs. 

"It's Yoongi-ssi," Hoseok grumbles. "It's always Yoongi-ssi."

Taehyung's eyes widen, and he asks, "No hyung?"

This makes Hoseok chuckle and warmth rise to his cheeks. "He never gave me permission to call him hyung, and I never asked."

Taehyung nods as if taking in what Hoseok has said, and he watches as if patiently waiting for him to have more to say. 

Hoseok sighs. "We've been getting…close, I guess. But it feels like he's stringing me along the same way he did with Jeongguk."

Taehyung frowns, causing Hoseok's shoulders to tense. He knows what that delicate, rectangular frown means – either Taehyung is thinking something out of pocket and dramatic, he is about to say something uncomfortably profound, or a combination of the two. Hoseok is unsure whether he can handle either right now. 

"What is it?" Hoseok asks, grimacing as he watches the wheels turn in his friend's head. 

Taehyung pulls his frown into a straight line and shrugs. "You know what I'm going to tell you, hyung."

Hoseok does know. Taehyung is the patron saint of clearly communicating how one feels regardless of the situation and what it may do to the other. At the end of the day, Taehyung wholeheartedly believes that above all else, there needs to be honest and open communication at all times. And he is not wrong. 

"I just…I feel like whenever we talk about anything, we just go in circles. We're not taking steps forward or backward, we're just oscillating endlessly in a loop."

Taehyung lifts his mixed drink, fixing Hoseok with a thoughtful expression. "Then you aren't opening up enough."

Hoseok snickers, but he is not given a chance to defend himself.

"How do you feel about him? Be honest."

Lifting his drink to his lips, Hoseok allows his focus to blur, mulling over the question. "I like him a lot," he admits softly. "I think our personalities are compatible, and I like the way he makes me feel. There's this…I don't know, Tae…electricity."

"And you've told him this?" Taehyung asks sternly.

Hoseok doesn't have to answer; his face must give it away. Taehyung rolls his eyes and shakes his pretty mop of hair. 

"You have to tell him precisely how you feel, hyung. Otherwise he may not realize the damage he is doing. He may not realize that he is stringing you along."

"But I don't care about whether or not we date."

At this, Taehyung sits up straight, fixing Hoseok with an incredulous gaze. "Don't you?"

Hoseok sighs dramatically, sitting back against his seat in a heavy slump that causes his body to slide down into a slouched position. The smile Taehyung reveals is nothing short of demonic. 

"He said something earlier," Hoseok grumbles like a scorned child. "I was at his place and things got pretty heated, and then he pissed me off, so I waited for him to fall asleep and I left."

The way Taehyung gapes at Hoseok is somewhat comical. "I have so many questions."

Hoseok feels somewhat meek as he mutters, "I don't know if I want to talk about it yet." He rubs his fingertips along the condensation of his glass, creating streaks that leak down onto the table. 

With a knowing nod, Taehyung also sips his drink. Then he asks, "What did he say that pissed you off so much?"

Hoseok manages to wiggle back into an upright seated position, and says, "He told me, nobody has ever made me feel this way."

Taehyung's mouth drops open, taking Hoseok somewhat by surprise; he half expected his friend to make fun of him. 

"Wow," he says, searching Hoseok's face and adding, "yeah, I could see how that made you mad."

"Thank you!" Hoseok shouts, instantly feeling as if he is being too loud despite being out on a patio where others are plenty loud.

"You need to tell him," Taehyung insists.

"I can't," he insists, feeling anxiety fill his lungs with heavy, muted air. "What if that's something he just says, and then I end up looking like an idiot for taking him too seriously."

Taehyung blinks owlishly, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, saying, "Only one way to find out."

Before Hoseok can protest, Taehyung is lifting his phone to his mouth, with the call he has placed put on speaker. The dial tone is loud, and with each ring, Hoseok feels his nerves spike. 

"Tae-hyungie," Hoseok hears coming from the phone, making him roll his eyes at how cute his youngest friend is. 

"Jeongguk-ah," Taehyung mutters, smiling. "Sorry for interrupting your sleepover."

"You should be," Jeongguk responds. "You're making Jimin-ssi pout."

Taehyung chuckles, and Hoseok thinks he can hear the sound of Jimin's voice, shrill and angry about the nickname, among other things. Jeongguk specifically calls him that just to make him angry.

"I'll make it up to you two. Listen, I have a question to ask you about you-know-who." On the other end of the line, Hoseok hears Jeongguk sigh, and Taehyung continues, "It's for scientific purposes. I'm here with Seok-hyung."

"Ah," Jeongguk grumbles, "he in another of his crisis modes?"

Hoseok feels the urge to argue, but he really has no right to. Of course, he is in another of his crisis modes. This is a very critical situation! 

Instead, all he says is, "Wow," making Jeongguk giggle.

Taehyung smiles widely as he asks, "When you and you-know-who were intimate, did he ever say anything that led you to believe he was into you on an emotional level?"

Hoseok holds his breath waiting for Jeongguk's response. He knows he has no right to feel upset if the answer is yes. If anything, it will prove what he already believes, which is that Yoongi just flippantly says shit like that to everyone he fucks.

"Nah," Jeongguk responds. "Nothing outside of how good I looked or how my body felt, you know? He called me fun a few times, but that was the extent of it; never anything that made me think he had feelings for me. Why?"

During Jeongguk's response, Hoseok had managed to lean forward, out of his seat, and now he bends partially over the table, listening intently while trying to process what he has just heard. Taehyung meets his eye, still smiling. 

"He never told you anything like…nobody has ever made me feel this way?" 

As Taehyung says the words, a shiver runs along Hoseok's spine. Over the phone, he hears Jeongguk make a sound – a snicker, maybe. Or possibly a gasp.

"Shit," he says, "yeah, no. Wow. Definitely nothing like that."

Hoseok can't help but scoff at the disbelief in his friend's surprise, and he sits back in his seat, feeling petulance rise as he says, "Thanks, kid," under his breath. 

"Hey, Seok," Jeongguk says, making Hoseok's eyes widen. "I don't mean to say that I'm surprised he said that to you, you know that. You're breathtaking; anyone with half a brain would say that to you and mean it. I'm just surprised Min Asshole is capable of saying something like that to anyone."

At his friend's admission, Hoseok lets out a deep breath and smiles. Jeongguk really can be charming when he wants to be, and Hoseok knows that he is not saying any of this to make him feel better. 

"Told ya so," Taehyung teases, fixing Hoseok with a playing grin. 

"Alright," Hoseok grumbles, then speaks up to say, "Thanks, Gguk. I appreciate it."

"Any time, Seok-hyung," Jeongguk sing-songs brightly.

Once Taehyung hangs up the call, the two of them down their drinks. Suddenly, Hoseok is eager to be tucked into bed with his makeup washed off. 

"I think I'm gonna head out," Hoseok pouts, feeling bad for dragging his friend out for such a short night. 

Taehyung smiles, seemingly unfazed. "I could distract you from this drama," he offers with a waggle of his eyebrows, and Hoseok giggles. 

"Honestly…it wouldn't make me feel better tonight," he admits.

"I know," Taehyung chirps. "Just thought I would offer, in case."

"I think…" Hoseok says, eyes wide and gaze blurry. He can tell Taehyung is sitting at eager attention, but it isn't until he blinks Taehyung's face into view that the expression is clear. "I think I have feelings for him."

Taehyung blinks a few times, then grins. It is a dopey, cute expression that has Hoseok feeling exasperated before the man even speaks.

"Of course, you do. Call him."

Hoseok nods and mutters, "Yeah, I will," then he stands to hug his friend goodbye. 

This club is in the same stretch of businesses that is only a couple blocks from Hoseok's place, so he sets off down the street hugging one arm around himself while he dials Yoongi's number. It is late enough now that Yoongi is probably asleep, so he is somewhat surprised when he hears a groggy voice on the end of the line.

"There you are."

Hoseok sighs. "Here I am."

Silence hangs, and Hoseok stares at the sidewalk ahead, watching each brick that disappears under his shoes. Now that he has Yoongi on the phone, he has no idea what to say to him.

"Listen, I don't know how I managed to fuck it up this time," Yoongi grumbles, "but I likely owe you an apology."

As Yoongi speaks, Hoseok hears the shifting of fabric and imagines he must be in bed. "Did I wake you up?"

"Sort of," Yoongi says through a yawn. "I was watching television and starting to doze on the couch, but I wasn't planning on sleeping here. You did me a favor by calling."

Hoseok hums and glances around at familiar shadows of trees and buildings. "You made me mad," he finally says.

"Was it something that I said?"

Yoongi actually sounds concerned, which makes Hoseok feel even more frustrated. He sighs but tries not to let the sound come out too loud. 

"You told me nobody has ever made you feel this way. Which…I don't know, hyung—fuck, can I call you hyung?"

Yoongi chuckles softly, "Of course."

"It's fucked up to say something like that to someone you don't seem to want strings attached with. That feels like a statement that comes with strings. Or," Hoseok adds emphatically, feeling himself spiraling and grateful Yoongi is not one to interrupt, "maybe you are aromantic and I'm being pushy, which also makes me feel terrible. Or you're just a terrible person who has no concern for what I must be feeling. Am I crazy? Am I misinterpreting things this badly?"

After a beat, Yoongi asks, "Can I come over? I feel like we should talk in person."

Hoseok's shoulders raise defensively, and he feels tears form in his eyes. Behind his ribs, his heart goes wild, and all he wants is for Yoongi to show up and wrap him in a warm, tight hug.

"I'm not sure I can handle seeing you right now," he admits. "Every time we speak in person, the conversation fizzles into something physical and we become distracted."

Yoongi hums in understanding. "Hard not to want to touch you."

"But is that all you want?" Hoseok asks meekly as he approaches his apartment door. He reaches into his tight shorts pocket to produce his keys and unlocks the knob. Once inside, he rolls his shoulders back and takes a moment to breathe.

Yoongi simply responds, "No," like it is nothing, and Hoseok nearly trips over his feet on his way up the short flight of steps. 

He stops mid-way and asks, "What?"

"I like you quite a bit, Hoseok. I think that if anyone could break me out of my shell a little more and allow me to express myself more freely, it could be you."

Hoseok stares at the white wall of the hallway, still standing on the steps. "Oh…kay…"

"But," Yoongi adds, causing Hoseok to squeeze his eyes closed and let out the breath he was holding, "I'm sure you can understand the position that dating can put me in."

Hoseok finally begins to make his way up toward his door, saying nothing and allowing Yoongi to continue.

"If I date models, it can be seen as a power imbalance. If I date someone in a similar position of power, it could be seen as me trying to monopolize this or that within the industry. If I date some random citizen, I run the risk of being used for my money, or being completely misunderstood."

Hoseok begins to laugh as he approaches his door, shaking his head. He punches in the passcode to his apartment, then shoves his way inside. 

"Hyung, you've just listed off normal risks of dating, period."

"And that is why I don't date."

Hoseok toes out of his sneakers and makes his way to the kitchen for some water. "It's okay to admit that you have a fear of commitment."

Yoongi grumbles, "Fear is a strong word," making Hoseok laugh.

After another pause, Yoongi asks, "Sure I can't come over?"

"I need to sort out my thoughts," Hoseok sighs. "Without distraction."

Yoongi hums in understanding, and Hoseok decides he is going to be a little more bold. 

"I really like you, hyung. A lot. And if no strings attached is really all you can do, then I may be able to accommodate, especially if that is the only way I will be able to touch you the way I want to…" He takes a fortifying breath. "But eventually, I will grow attached, and for my own sake, I will need to stop."

Hoseok feels hopeful as he stands in front of his sink, staring at the empty metal basin. He waits patiently for Yoongi to respond, heart thumping heavily. 

"Alright," Yoongi finally mutters. "I'll give you space."

Dumbstruck and blinking rapidly, Hoseok fights the urge to cry. Is that really all Yoongi has to say to him?

"Okay," he says, glancing around his kitchen mindlessly as if willing some magical solution to appear out of thin air. But no magical solution comes, so he says, "Good night, hyung," then lowers his phone from his ear before he can hear a response.

* * *

My Favorite Goon Hoseokah, I have a big contract on the horizon. Meet for lunch?

Hoseok rubs his eyes and fights the urge to scream. He is over the moon about the prospect of a new contract, but not nearly awake enough to fully comprehend it. 

He wonders what could possibly top Dior. 

With a groan, Hoseok sits up, rests his head against the wall, and takes a deep breath. More contracts mean more money, but it also means more Yoongi. He hopes for a lull in between so he can take a bit of a breather. 

Hoseok Lunch sounds great! My day is wide open.

Hoseok stretches his legs and shifts around until he is reluctantly out of bed, with his feet planted on the floor. He takes his phone with him into the bathroom and smiles at the incoming text that rattles against the sink as soon as he sets down the device.

My Favorite Goon Of course, it is; I have nothing scheduled for you. Pick you up at 12?

Hoseok shoots off a text to Seokjin—

Hoseok 12 is perfect, boss! 

—and then takes a slow, hot shower. He tries his hardest to think of anything but the beautiful man who continues to disappoint him, but all he can picture as soon as he closes his eyes is Yoongi sprawled out on dark bedding with his skin tinted a pretty lilac.

Hoseok hates the way he knows he will absolutely cave the moment Yoongi requires even a second of his time. He hates that he has no ability to firmly tell him no. 

Not that he wants to tell Yoongi no. All he wants is to tell him yes until he is blue in the face and give him absolutely everything. 

Although Hoseok feels down, he puts his best face forward, dressing in a tight white tee and loose-fitting grey Dior slacks with hideous Dior sneakers and silver hoop earrings. He uses product to make his hair appear unstyled and messy, and lines his eyes in black.

Seokjin arrives at 12 on the dot, and Hoseok is already closing his apartment door and on his way down the stairs when his phone buzzes. He is grateful for Seokjin's bright smile and teasing remarks as he sinks into the front seat of his sedan, and even more grateful for the man's taste in restaurants.

The ramen spot Seokjin pulls up to is an elegant little shop that appears as a hole in the wall from the outside. They get a table in a private room, and as Hoseok settles down onto his cushion and tucks his burgundy napkin into the front of his shirt, Seokjin orders a bottle of hot sake for the table.

"Let's dive in so that we can enjoy our food in silence," Seokjin says as soon as their server is gone. 

Hoseok cannot hold back his smile.

"Louis Vuitton wants you," Seokjin continues, speaking quickly and confidently. "I told them we would do no fewer than three spreads, which means you will be showing their current men's wear selection twice, and their upcoming seasonal outfits before they drop. It will be similar to the pre-shoot you just did for Dior's winter collection."

Seokjin stares at Hoseok, who can only stare back. He always wanted to model for Louis Vuitton, but now that the opportunity has presented itself, it feels fake. 

Hoseok heavy-blinks, and begins to nod, and Seokjin rolls his eyes.

"Hoseokah, you really cannot tell me that you are surprised by this news."

Hoseok shakes his head, muttering, "I'm not."

"Good. Because you are the best of the best right now, and I am only submitting your Dior shots to the top brands."

"You submitted my Dior photos?" Hoseok asks, feeling his pulse quicken.

Seokjin scoffs. "Yah! What do you think my responsibilities are? Do you really think I am going to sit idly by and wait for you to be discovered? You have money to make."

A server brings a steaming white carafe and sets down two small ceramic cups. They appear as if they are going to ask what the two of them would like to order, but Seokjin holds up his hand and says, "Give us another moment, please," then returns his attention to Hoseok as the server walks off.

"What is it you think agents do, Hoseokah?"

Hoseok's response is delayed as he takes in all of this information. Then he says, "I don't know," earning him another roll of Seokjin's eyes.

"The spicy miso here is the best," Seokjin says, pointing to the menu that sits to the right of Hoseok's placemat. "Get as many toppings as you wish. Do you like gyoza and karaage? You have earned the right to eat as much fat and grease as you can stomach today."

There is so much information on the menu that Hoseok feels overwhelmed, tracing his eyes over lists of toppings and sides. He nods and says, "Yeah, sounds good."

"Good. You have the week off to prepare. Namjoon will take you to the spa tomorrow. Any questions?"

"No," Hoseok mutters, shaking his head. "Thanks, boss."

Finally, Seokjin cracks a smile. It is far from warm, but it does serve to warm Hoseok's heart. He says, "Anything for you, Seokah," and Hoseok believes him. 

* * *

Hoseok is not expecting Namjoon to arrive at the crack of dawn on Wednesday with a massive bouquet of wildflowers. He rubs the sleep from his eyes, forgoing embarrassment over the fact that he only wears a long black tee that he threw on when he heard the door knock, over tight blue briefs.

"Good morning, sunshine," Namjoon sing-sings as Hoseok accepts the heavy glass vase in which the large bouquet sits, and stumbles into his place, turning this way and that to decide where to put it. 

The kitchen counter seems like the best spot, and Hoseok shuffles in that direction as he mutters, "Make yourself at home. Coffee?"

"We'll grab some coffee," Namjoon responds as he closes the apartment door. Hoseok turns to find him leaning against it, patient. "Take your time! I can wait."

Namjoon wears a simple black tee tucked into joggers, so Hoseok decides to match his energy as he returns to his bedroom to clean his face, brush his teeth, and get dressed. When he returns, Namjoon remains leaned against the door, thumbing through his phone. 

"Seokjin-ssi didn't warn me you'd be here so early," Hoseok says, voice still rough and groggy.

Namjoon looks up with a bright smile. "Ah, my apologies."

"Can we stop for food?" Hoseok asks as he runs a hand through his hair and makes his way toward the pile of shoes Namjoon appears to be guarding. He uses his toes to retrieve one black sneaker after another and shoves his feet haphazardly into them.

"Absolutely," Namjoon says as he steps from the front door and pulls it open. Hoseok pats his pockets to feel for his wallet, phone, and keys as Namjoon adds, "I'm hungry as heck."

Namjoon drives a familiar little black sports car to the other side of town where he and Hoseok get breakfast sandwiches and lattes. They talk mainly about the upcoming shoots and Seokjin's expectations, and discuss Hoseok getting a hair trim. 

Hoseok does his best not to breach the topic of Yoongi, and he is grateful that the man only comes up in passing, and strictly for business purposes. That is, until they have received deep tissue massages, and are sitting in leather chairs while technicians give them pedicures. 

"You seem a little quiet today," Namjoon says cautiously as if attempting not to scare away a nervous animal. "Is there anything on your mind?"

Hoseok sighs and takes the bait. "Just spit it out."

With a chuckle and a clearing of his throat, Namjoon says, "Listen, I, uh…I talked to Yoongi."

"Of course you did," Hoseok grumbles, making Namjoon laugh more. 

"He didn't tell me everything," Namjoon says, lifting his hands as if in surrender. "Just that he fucked up. Again."

"At least he acknowledges it," Hoseok says, sinking a little into his seat. 

Silence hangs, save for the soft pop music that plays from speakers high in the corners of the room, and the sounds of people chattering lowly. 

Hoseok closes his eyes and says, "I really like him, Joonie. It's terrible."

"He likes you too," Namjoon replies as if it is nothing. 

Hoseok frowns. "If he likes me so much then why is he so annoying?"

Namjoon chuckles again, making Hoseok crack a smile. Then he says, "Being annoying is in Yoongi's blood. It's just the way he is."

"I lied when I said I don't care whether we date."

"I know."

Hoseok opens his eyes and turns his head to the left. The smile that greets him is warm. 

"What do I do?"

Namjoon shrugs and says, "Just be honest. And hold him accountable."

Hoseok pouts, muttering, "You make it sound so simple."

"I know," Namjoon responds easily. "He can be a pain in the ass. But this is the first time I have seen him consider giving up his bachelor ways, and I think the two of you are good for each other."

Hoseok huffs and sinks lower into his chair. He should be pleased with the fact that Namjoon thinks this time is different, but it feels like a lot of pressure. What if Yoongi scares easily, and it will all be for nothing?

After their spa day concludes and Hoseok's hair is trimmed a few centimeters shorter, falling just barely below his ears and above his eyebrows, he returns home and collapses against his couch. It is already evening, and he knows Yoongi should be done for the day. He dwells on the idea of texting him before taking the plunge and thumbing through his phone. 

Hoseok Spa day with Namjoon was nice. I got my hair trimmed.

The moment Hoseok hits send, he regrets sending anything at all. There is something so stuffy and impersonal about this message, and he just knows Yoongi is going to see through the charade and assume he is grasping for anything to send him. 

His phone vibrates so fast, he enters multiple stages of grief, first assuming he had imagined it before convincing himself that it had to have been one of his friends messaging him out of the blue. Even when he reads the name of the recipient, he has to convince himself that it is Yoongi responding so quickly. 

Min Asshole Not too short, I hope. I like your length.

Hoseok groans and squeezes his eyes closed. There is no way in hell Yoongi chose to say those words without fully understanding the myriad ways Hoseok's dirty, lonely mind would choose to read them. 

He plays along, biting his lip as he rolls onto his stomach. 

Hoseok You like my length? Tell me more. 

Hoseok stares intently at his phone, watching as three little dots appear and disappear. He wishes he could see the devious little smirk on Yoongi's face if only to find a way to make it fall away. 

Min Asshole I would rather show than tell.

With a sigh, Hoseok gently drops his phone to the floor and closes his eyes. Seeing Yoongi right now feels like a bad idea. They need to have an open conversation that cannot be sullied by their inability to keep their hands to themselves, and he knows that if he caves and lets Yoongi show him anything at all, they will continue to chase their tails and never get anywhere. 

Instead, Hoseok stares at the edge of his coffee table and considers the best way to tell Yoongi no. 

* * *

Thursday, Hoseok tucks his phone away and ignores it completely. 

He has no reason to think Yoongi would reach out to him while he is at work, but he keeps the device out of sight and earshot just in case. Dior bags and boxes have been piling up, and Hoseok takes the time to organize his closet, then he swaps out his bedding for fresh sheets & pillowcases. 

Around lunchtime, he untucks his phone from beneath the couch cushion, ignoring the urge to text Yoongi about how good his closet looks with his outfits put away, and pops in a pair of earbuds, then he walks down to his favorite café for a latte and strawberry danish. 

He ignores the urge to text Yoongi to tell him that he is excited about Louis Vuitton and people-watches until he becomes antsy and takes his latte back home. As he settles down onto his couch to find something to watch, he ignores the urge to text Yoongi to tell him he hopes he eats something healthy for lunch and settles on SpongeBob reruns, spacing out almost immediately. 

By dinnertime, Hoseok is exhausted and does not feel like making himself food. He fights the urge to text Yoongi to find out when he might be done for the day and sends a group text out to his friends to see if anyone would like to grab a bite to eat. 

When they all agree to meet up for sushi, Hoseok fights the urge to text Yoongi to ask for recommendations. 

It feels nice to meet up with his friends, and Hoseok gets dolled up in some plain Dior pieces that were gifted to him, that he never got a chance to shoot in. He wears a plain black tee tucked into black slacks and carries a sleek black Dior handbag that he decides Jimin may really like. 

Much to his chagrin, the guys ask about Yoongi before they have a chance to settle in and order food. Hoseok shrugs and says he has been too busy to spend much time with him, and they all see through his façade, asking whether that is what he wants, whether he feels fulfilled, whether he regrets getting close to him. 

"Guys," Hoseok barks, holding both palms up. The three of them close their mouths, and Hoseok sighs. "Can we please just…not? I don't want to talk about it tonight. Grill me next week."

Jimin swishes his freshly pinked hair and says, "Deal," while Taehyung and Jeongguk exchange frowns. The rest of dinner is relaxing, but Hoseok checks his phone multiple times, wishing Yoongi would text him. 

By Friday afternoon, Hoseok is pacing around his apartment, clutching his phone in his hand. He has come up with a list of things he could do on his day off, but he does not set any activities into motion. 

He feels like a volcano ready to burst.

Finally, he sends Yoongi a text. 

Hoseok Are you free for dinner, by chance? I think I am ready to talk things out. And I guess I miss your grumpy face. 

He takes a nice slow, hot shower, all the while waiting for his phone to ding from the bathroom sink. By the time he dries off and begins his face routine, still without a response, he starts to feel even antsier than before he sent the text. Sure, Yoongi is a busy man, but there is no way he has not had a moment of alone time, yet. Most of his job is alone time.

Hoseok lays out a few outfits that would be appropriate for dinner, then he paces through his apartment with a towel wrapped around his hips, biting his lips. He checks to make sure his text has gone through, and he resists the urge to call him. 

By evening, Hoseok is annoyed. He sits in a pair of pajamas with his arms crossed, staring at his phone. SpongeBob giggles in the background, and it only serves to make him feel more angry. 

Hoseok Forget I asked

Hoseok chucks his phone onto the table, causing it to rattle toward the far end. When it begins to ring, he feels frustrated for having to get up. 

Yoongi is calling, and all Hoseok says when he answers is a sharp, "What?"

"Wow," Yoongi responds with a chuckle. "Bad timing?"

"No," Hoseok lies, pacing into his kitchen. "Just didn't think I would ever hear from you."

Yoongi sounds bored as he says, "I was working, Seok."

Hoseok hums. He knows he sounds whiny as he says, "It takes two seconds to respond to a text."

"True," Yoongi says. "But maybe I wanted to hear your voice, instead."

"Could have fooled me," Hoseok grumbles.

Yoongi sighs once more. "Alright, perhaps I was holding off on responding for when I did have time. I'm sorry for upsetting you."

Hoseok says nothing. He feels the urge to cry. How is it that communication is so difficult for Yoongi? Surely, he must know he is driving Hoseok crazy.

"Are you still hungry?" Yoongi asks softly, kindly. 

Hoseok hates the way he instantly feels lighter. "Yeah."

"There's a noodle bar near your place that I have been wanting to try out. Meet me there in fifteen?"

"Fine," Hoseok concedes, turning on the balls of his toes to walk into his room and find an outfit. 

"You sure that's enough time to fuss with your hair?" Yoongi adds.

Despite feeling annoyed, Hoseok cracks a smile. He mutters, "Fifteen is plenty! Bye!" and hangs up. 

Hoseok wears a simple white tee and grey track pants from his Dior collection, applies some lip balm and perfume, and heads out. He is only somewhat certain he knows which noodle bar Yoongi is talking about, and shoots him a text to make sure he has the correct place. 

Yoongi calls, and Hoseok picks up on the first vibration. 

"I was wondering if you would bother to ask where we were going," Yoongi teases.

"So is it the place or not?"

Yoongi chuckles deep and pretty, making Hoseok swoon. "Yeah, it's the place."

"Good," Hoseok says as he hangs up. 

He turns a corner to find Yoongi's sedan parked halfway down the block, and the man himself standing against the door with a black mask over his face. His hair is wild and wavy, and he wears a crisp black button-up tucked into black slacks.

Just seeing Yoongi makes Hoseok's heart go haywire. He struggles to not reach out and touch Yoongi, feeling his face go red hot as they exchange polite, distant hellos. 

Hoseok barely talks through his meal – barely registers any of the flavors he eats. They exchange pleasantries about the upcoming Louis Vuitton contract and drink two glasses of beer. At the end of dinner, Hoseok insists Yoongi come back to his place.

"I thought you wanted to talk more?" Yoongi grumbles against Hoseok's lips as Hoseok presses his palms into Yoongi's hips and struggles to toe out of his black sneakers. 

"We'll talk later," Hoseok insists, reaching for Yoongi's buttons without asking for permission. Luckily, Yoongi does not seem to mind. "I just…need to feel you."

They kiss and undress haphazardly, and then Hoseok moves Yoongi around and shoves at him until he is bent over the arm of his couch with his bare feet planted on the ground. Hoseok spreads Yoongi with his palms and considers getting on his knees, but Yoongi whines. 

"Seokah, let's go to your room."

Hoseok groans impatiently but concedes, grabbing Yoongi by the wrist and yanking him into his bedroom. A bottle of lube sits on his bedside table and he scurries over to grab it, forgoing turning on any lights as he returns to where Yoongi leans against the wall to finally drop to his knees. 

The room is dim, but Hoseok can clearly see everything he needs to as the evening sunlight pours through the windows. He grabs at Yoongi’s hips and forces him to turn around, causing a pretty chuckle to fall from his lips. 

“So impatient,” Yoongi playfully complains. 

Hoseok pops the lube open, dribbles some onto two of his fingers, and spreads Yoongi’s cheeks to begin prodding and stretching. Yoongi is so warm but so tight, and Hoseok moans in tandem with each slick pass of his fingers, eager to feel more. Once he has two fingers pressed deep inside, he gets to his feet, grabs Yoongi by the hair, and yanks him close, arching his back. 

The sounds Yoongi makes are low and desperate, and his fingertips are white where they attempt to grip onto the wall. 

“You have no idea,” Hoseok grits through his teeth as he pulls his fingers out and begins to slowly insert a third. Yoongi squeals, tightening and relaxing through shuddered breaths. “No idea how fucking badly I’ve needed this.”

Yoongi’s voice breaks on a sob as Hoseok works him open to the knuckles. He mutters, “I have some idea,” making Hoseok grin. 

Once Hoseok has Yoongi stretched around three fingers and begging in a mindless, raspy babble to be fucked, Hoseok stands, squirts lube onto his cock, and begins to tease the tip against Yoongi's hole. 

"Do I need a condom?" Hoseok asks, mainly as a courtesy. 

Yoongi frantically shakes his head with his forehead pressed into the wall. 

"Good. Getting impatient." Hoseok grits as he presses forward just enough to breach Yoongi's rim. 

Yoongi moans, begging Hoseok to take him, pleading that he needs him. 

"Patience, hyung," Hoseok teases. "Wanna feel every inch of you as I fuck you open."

Pitchy sobs fall from Yoongi's lips as Hoseok presses in and pulls out, again and again, nice and slow. He feels high, incapable of fully comprehending the fact that the two of them are having sex without preamble. He always expected it to feel like more of a big deal – or, perhaps, he simply hadn't expected Yoongi to allow him to take what he wants so easily.

Yoongi turns into putty as Hoseok presses as deep as he can go, panting against the wall, which he has all but melted against, fingers splayed as he does his best to hold himself in place. 

Hoseok keeps his hips still, feeling the way Yoongi's hole pulsates around him, warm and wet, squeezing and releasing as if desperate for something he is not asking for. 

"Shit, you feel so good," Hoseok groans, pulling back nice and slow, making Yoongi whimper and scrape his fingernails against the wall. He takes Yoongi by the hair and yanks gently, making him wince as his head meets Hoseok's shoulder. "Tell me what you want."

"F-fuck me," Yoongi whimpers. A sheen of sweat covers his forehead and his eyes stare widely at the ceiling. "Please, Hoseokah."

Hoseok pulls his hips back and snaps them forward, mouth hanging agape on a wide smile as Yoongi moans and squeezes him nice and tight. He pulls back once more and thrusts nice and deep, again and again, rough, fluidless movements just to make Yoongi scramble and squeal. 

Then he lets go of Yoongi's hair and gently wraps his hand around his throat, delighting in the way Yoongi sinks into the feeling as he sets a nice steady pace. Yoongi leans back against Hoseok but keeps his hands on the wall, moaning and sobbing as Hoseok's hips work him in a quick but even rhythm. 

It has been far too long since the last time Hoseok has felt this level of pleasure and it simmers through him with each thrust, building his high as Yoongi tightens and relaxes around him. He feels like heaven and Hoseok never wants it to end. 

"Want to see you," Hoseok groans as he slowly pulls out, causing both of them to wince. "Turn around."

Yoongi stumbles as he turns, back crashing into the wall. His hair is a mess and he looks fucked out and radiant, eyes and smile droopy but pleading. Hoseok bends and grabs Yoongi's thighs and lifts, then presses Yoongi – who clings like a koala – against the wall while reaching with one hand to line them back up. 

With one long thrust that has Hoseok standing onto his tippy toes, he spears Yoongi deep, causing him to bonk his head against the wall and giggle. 

"Careful," Hoseok mutters as he adjusts his stance nice and wide and grips Yoongi tight by the thighs. 

He presses Yoongi against the wall as leverage, pulling his hips down and thrusting them up. Knowing Yoongi is this easy to lift and hold is dangerous, and Hoseok attempts to keep himself focused on the deed at hand despite how his mind wanders to so many other ways he might enjoy him. 

"T-too much," Yoongi whimpers, head bobbing like a doll from each deep thrust. 

Hoseok smirks and leans close, deepening his thrusts despite having less room to pull out. "Too much?" he mock-pouts, causing Yoongi to bleat desperately. Despite his teasing, he is gentle as he asks, "Do you need me to stop?"

"No!" Yoongi practically shouts. "No, please don't stop."

"Good." Hoseok quickens his pace. "I'm just getting started with you, hyung."

Hoseok's muscles begin to burn in his legs and in his lower back, but all he cares about is keeping a steady pace and showing Yoongi precisely what can be all his if only he lets Hoseok in a little more.

Orgasm builds, and Hoseok does his best to stave off the urge. He wants Yoongi to cum first, then he can worry about chasing his own high. 

"What's gotten into you?" Yoongi manages to ask through gasps and grunts while his head rubs against the wall.

Hoseok slows his hips and presses his body against Yoongi, who wraps his arms and legs around Hoseok and hugs him close. 

"What do you mean?"

They breathe each other's air, staring into one another's eyes despite being too close to clearly see anything else. Yoongi smiles, seeming glad to catch his breath. 

"We've barely spoken all week," Yoongi groans.

Hoseok tilts his head in a challenge; is Yoongi really going to do this right now?

"And whose fault is that?"

Yoongi chuckles, but it does little to assuage Hoseok's brewing frustration. "I just mean this feels so hasty."

In a swift movement, Hoseok pulls out and lowers Yoongi to his feet. Yoongi frowns but keeps his arms around Hoseok's neck. 

"I didn't hear you complaining before," Hoseok counters, defensive. He lifts his hands to Yoongi's wrists, ready to remove his hold on him.

But Yoongi smiles sweetly. "And you don't hear me complaining now. I'm sorry for being chatty. Please don't stop."

Conflicted, Hoseok takes a step back, forcing Yoongi's arms to drop from around his neck. He ignores the way Yoongi frowns as he runs a hand through his tousled hair. 

"Why are we always sparring like this?" Hoseok asks, defeated. "Can't we just be normal?"

"Hoseokah," Yoongi groans, stepping close. He reaches with one large, warm hand and engulfs Hoseok's cock, giving it a slow, firm stroke and squeezing the tip. Hoseok gasps, frustrated by how good it feels to be touched by him. "I wasn't trying to start a fight. I was simply impressed by your stamina. I've never been fucked against the wall like a ragdoll before."

Hoseok rolls his eyes at the same time Yoongi rolls his palm over his leaking tip, and they groan in tandem, Yoongi with wide eyes and a winning grin. 

"Don't stop," Yoongi pleads despite his gaze piercing in the commanding way it often does. "You make me feel so good."

Hoseok leans in to capture Yoongi's lips, taking him by surprise. Yoongi stumbles into the wall, fist still gripping Hoseok's length, and Hoseok presses them together as he licks into Yoongi's mouth. They exchange moans, urging Hoseok to lift Yoongi once more.

Yoongi wraps both arms around Hoseok's neck, and Hoseok thrusts deep in a quick, fluid motion that forces both of them to whimper. Then he holds Yoongi tight and fucks as hard as he can manage in this position, bobbing him up only to slam him down. 

The slap of skin against skin is lewd, and it takes all of Hoseok's concentration not to cum. Yoongi is tight and warm, and he feels incredible. 

"Hoseokah," Yoongi whines, head lolling back and lightly hitting the wall. "Gonna cum. Please don't stop."

As if Yoongi's promise isn't enticing enough, he squeezes Hoseok's length in a dizzying rhythm. Yoongi's leaking cock is trapped between their bodies, rubbing and slapping against their tummies with each movement and Hoseok can feel as it pulsates against him before Yoongi lets out a sharp, needy moan and sprays the two of them with his release. 

Yoongi trembles and whines, spurting cum as his head rolls haplessly on his shoulders. He looks and sounds almost like a man possessed, and he feels way too fucking good, squeezing the life out of Hoseok and forcing him to follow closely behind. 

Hoseok presses Yoongi against the wall as orgasm rushes over him, forcing his limbs to tremble so violently, he worries he could drop Yoongi. Luckily, Yoongi holds onto him like a lifeline, clinging with his limbs as Hoseok fills him with a release that squelches from his hole, making a mess of them both. 

He rests their heads against the wall a little too roughly as he pulls out, then slowly begins to loosen his hold, allowing Yoongi to slide onto his feet, where he stumbles before finding his balance. 

They pant and sigh, and Hoseok leans to kiss Yoongi once more. "You're fucking incredible," he mutters against Yoongi's lips, but Yoongi turns his head away. 

Hoseok lets out a heavy sigh, feeling all the joy and bliss dissipate like mist. Yoongi's eyes are trained to the floor.

"Don't do this," Hoseok pleads, unsure where he could have gone wrong. Sure, he got defensive earlier, but they finished on a high note. 

"That was good," Yoongi mutters, thorns in Hoseok's heart. "Great," he corrects, but Hoseok is already taking a step back and turning away. 

"Great," Hoseok mutters under his breath, eyes on the floor. Yoongi hovers for a second and then begins to leave the room, and Hoseok turns toward him, willing his feet to move forward but standing in place. "So why are you leaving?" he tries, frustrated by how shaken he sounds. 

"You left last time," Yoongi mutters, throwing a sad smile over his shoulder. "And anyway…I have too much on my mind. It wouldn't be a good idea for me to stay."

"But we still need to talk."

Yoongi nods, then shrugs. "I think I need to clear my head first."

Hoseok feels sick to his stomach and angry, voice cracking as he asks, "Then why did you come at all?"

And as if it were the easiest thing in the world, Yoongi says, "Because I wanted to," before walking away.

Cum dries to Hoseok's chest, tummy, and cock, sticky and beginning to itch. He would find the fact amusing if he were not so angry. Is Yoongi really going to put his clothing back on in this state and leave? Is staying just long enough to clean himself really that awful?

Hoseok is furious. Finally, he finds the energy to storm into his living room, ignoring the fact that he is completely naked. Yoongi already has his underwear and undershirt on, and he is reaching for his slacks. 

"What is your fucking problem?" Hoseok bites, doing his best not to shout. 

Yoongi's movement pauses before he continues to slide one foot into his slacks after the other. "I told you, I'm not into relationships."

Hoseok stews in anger, watching as Yoongi gets dressed. 

"So you just showed up to use me for sex, and now you're going to drive home with cum dripping out of your ass."

Yoongi has the audacity to crack a smile before schooling his expression and finally looking Hoseok in the eye. He slides his hands into his slacks pockets over the untucked ends of his black button-up. 

"Hoseok, you told me that you were okay with there being no strings attached."

Hoseok heavy-blinks, feeling the urge to cry. All he mutters is, "I—" and he feels shocked when Yoongi interrupts him. 

"You also warned me that eventually, you would catch feelings and need to stop. But it seems like none of that was true, because you are already acting cold and defensive."

"I just wanted to kiss you," Hoseok mutters, dropping his gaze to the floor and cringing inwardly at how childish he sounds. 

Yoongi sighs. "Well, I wasn't in the mood for a kiss."

How can Hoseok blame someone for having boundaries? This whole situation has him feeling so fucked up that he is struggling to consider how Yoongi might feel because he is so caught up in the crushing weight of what Yoongi may not feel. 

"You're right," Hoseok responds, unable to lift his gaze. "I respect your boundaries. I'm sorry for becoming upset."

Yoongi hums and Hoseok watches as his feet spin and make for the door, where his shoes are. Hoseok is cold, and he wraps his arms around himself. He wishes he had grabbed a robe or something before storming out here to confront Yoongi.

"Clearly, we are incapable of talking through whatever is on our minds," Yoongi says. His tone is too disconnected – too stern. It reminds Hoseok of the way Yoongi spoke to him when they first met – all business with a hint of attitude. It makes him feel small. He adds, "Sorry I came over tonight. Clearly this was a mistake."

Tears build, and Hoseok allows them to fall. He does not lift his eyes as Yoongi leaves, and he stands in silence as his gasps and voiceless sobs fill the space before forcing himself to stumble to the shower. 

* * *

The photoshoots are awkward, to say the least, but Hoseok feels like a veteran at saving face, especially around Yoongi. Sure, Hoseok has to keep his eyes averted from the man's actual face as much as possible, and he is either silent or snippy when given instructions, but at least he does his job, and does it well. 

Although he despises the way Yoongi handled their last tryst, Hoseok finds he cannot hate him for it. It was immature and lacked any modicum of productive conversation, but it is nice to at least be aware of how Yoongi feels. Baby steps, he tells himself.

Yoongi may be blunt and straightforward, but as much as he bosses Hoseok around and tells him what he likes, he does not easily and concisely express his feelings. And anyway, he already told Hoseok that he does not do relationships, so Hoseok thinks it is also his fault for letting things get as far as they did. 

Even though Yoongi did say he could want something more with Hoseok. He knows he was not imagining things.

The worst part of working with Yoongi now is knowing how his voice sounds when he cums – how easy he is to pick up and how easy he might be to toss around. Despite how amazing it was in the moment, Hoseok finds himself wishing he had never discovered any of it. 

He curses himself for not heeding Jeongguk's warning.

At least it is clear to Hoseok that Yoongi is not handling things perfectly well, either. His eyes are sleepier than usual, droopy with dark bags, and he does not seem to have his head in the game the way he often does. Even his snide remarks and barked orders lack their usual bite. 

Hoseok finds it a relief that Yoongi seems miserable, but he would prefer it if they could just get along, instead. He thinks that perhaps he should be the bigger man and just forget his physical attraction, but each time the thought crosses his mind, he is bogged down by the impossibility of it all. 

There is no way in hell Hoseok could simply forget his attraction to Yoongi. 

Yoongi may as well be a mass the size of the sun with the way he pulls Hoseok into his orbit. Or, Hoseok thinks, he may be the gas giant and Yoongi the planet. It is painfully clear to Hoseok that Yoongi would rather be alone, and yet he continues to slip into Hoseok's gravitational force and make himself known.

"Good enough," Yoongi says, pulling Hoseok from his planetary exploration of their relationship – if whatever they are doing could be considered as such. 

Hoseok stands up straight, rolls his shoulders back, and watches as Yoongi clicks through the digital photos he has taken. He wears his standard uniform of flowing black fabric that looks as comfortable as it does pretentious, and two film cameras dangle from around his neck. 

After what feels like an eternity, Yoongi cracks a smile, glances up, and regards Hoseok. Hoseok holds his breath and his blood whooshes in his ears as he foolishly allows himself to bask in the silent weight of something so simple. 

The smile fades as Yoongi's gaze lingers, but when he says, "Great work today," Hoseok knows that he means it. 

With a bow of his head, Hoseok mutters, "Thank you," and Yoongi walks off. 

Hoseok thinks he can handle this. Small smiles and earnest compliments are better than nothing. 

* * *

After exactly two weeks of small smiles, earnest compliments, and a growing distance one would need a bridge to traverse, Hoseok feels as if he has reached his limit. 

They wrap the Louis shoots, which have gone longer than expected because they asked whether Hoseok would be willing to model more items from the line than they originally intended. And then, at last, Hoseok decides it is time to work elsewhere. 

"Well, I admit that it is strange to swim against the stream," Seokjin says once the news is out. 

Hoseok's palm is clammy where it holds his phone; he had been dreading this conversation for several days. He paces around his apartment in sweatpants and an oversized Dior tee.

Seokjin continues, "But it is not impossible. Plenty of fish do it."

Essentially, what Seokjin is suggesting is that Hoseok has already been hired by the best magazine to work with the most esteemed professional and that switching companies seems like moving backward. But M Magazine is rarely a long-term gig. Models typically have guest spots to get themselves out there, and then get hired elsewhere. 

Is Seokjin suggesting that Hoseok may have a long-term position with M? Is he saying Hoseok could have stayed there much longer had things worked well? As curious as Hoseok is, he also fears the answer.

"I appreciate it, Seokjin-ssi," Hoseok says, attempting to sound chipper despite feeling utterly conflicted. 

"I know you do," Seokjin responds with a smile evident in his tone. "Yoongichi will not appreciate it, but it is not bad for him to be reminded that the world does not revolve around him."

Doesn't it? Hoseok wants to ask. Could have fooled him. 

"Sit tight and try not to get into any trouble," Seokjin instructs, tone switching to something more stern and managerial. "It may take me a week or so to get you any offers, and longer to get you in front of another camera. Try not to change your appearance too much, and do not blow through all your money."

Hoseok is certain that he could order takeout for every meal until the end of the month and go clubbing several nights a week without spending all of the money he has managed to earn while working with Yoongi. Still, he appreciates Seokjin's warning, and says, "Yes, boss," with a smile.

"If you change your mind, you will continue to have a spot at M Magazine, regardless of what Yoongichi may think about the idea."

Hoseok hums, unsure what else to say, and Seokjin ends the call, stating he will be in touch and hanging up without giving Hoseok a chance to respond. 

With his arms hanging limply by his sides, Hoseok glances around his living room, unsure what to do with himself. The early evening sun glows into the windows in hints of pink, and although Hoseok has not eaten all day, he feels empty but not hungry. Hollow, perhaps. 

He wants to call Yoongi to tell him about his decision if only to hear the man confirm he has done the right thing by muttering something dissonant that no doubt hides his true feelings. He wants to invite his friends out for drinks and a distraction. 

Instead, he shuffles over to the couch and plops down. He turns on the television and almost immediately spaces out, seeing the images as they flash by, one channel after another after another, but he does not really take in any of the sights and sounds. 

Finally, he stops his search on an episode of a drama he has never heard of and vaguely watches the handsome man in a suit who is probably a chaebol confess his feelings for a plain but pretty woman who is probably poor. They come together for a stale press of lips that passes on television as a kiss, and Hoseok lifts his legs to the couch, curls into a fetal position, and closes his eyes.

* * *

For two weeks, Hoseok is without a work schedule.

He sits in his apartment and reads books. He spaces out while the television is on. He orders a meal kit service and experiments with cooking healthy food for dinner. He walks around his neighborhood, visits his favorite café, finds new cafes to try, and continues going to his favorite café in lieu of the others. He considers buying a bicycle and even shops around online, but never finds one he likes enough to buy. Eventually, he cancels the meal kit service. 

And, for two weeks, Hoseok fights the urge to contact Yoongi. But he thinks about him constantly. 

He wonders whether Yoongi has found any new restaurants. He wonders who will be centerfold in the next magazine, whether anyone else has been smeared in paint with Yoongi's bare hands, whether anyone else has had to wear a merkin. 

Namjoon texts from time to time to check in, and Hoseok resists asking about Yoongi. He tells himself that he is going through a detox of sorts - that he needs to flush Yoongi out of his system entirely. 

A new routine is always strange, he tells himself. It always comes with an adjustment period. But it is a good thing. Change is good. Change is healthy. Hoseok has worked with many other small photographers before, and he is certain that he can do it again. 

But when he arrives to a new studio, he suddenly begins to rethink his choices. The space is cramped compared to M. The makeup and outfit consultant is a wisp of a woman who frowns as she works, only speaking to tell Hoseok where to sit and how to tilt his head. The photographer gives vague, odd directions, and tends to sigh after each shot, seemingly uncertain whether he likes any of the work he has done. 

Bodies walk simultaneously too fast and too slow, bumping shoulder to shoulder with apologies given in sharp, hushed, unapologetic tones. There is no food provided, but Hoseok is given an hour to leave the studio and find something to eat during his break. 

There is no Namjoon to share gossip with or tell him he is beautiful. No Seokjin to roll his eyes and deliver blunt sarcasm with a winning smile. No Yoongi to tell him he has done a job well done. 

Hoseok hates it here. 

Not every studio is this abysmal, but many of them are. And now that Hoseok has returned to this hustle, he wants to run for the hills and never look back. 

At the end of the second day, he calls Seokjin. He apologizes profusely but tells him that he hates it. 

"You still have a place at M," Seokjin insists. "Yoongi wasn't even angry to learn you had left. It seems like he expects you to return."

More likely, he expects Hoseok to come crawling back with his tail tucked between his legs. Truth be told, Hoseok thinks that is the better option. 

"Yeah," he says. "Alright."

"We have a bunch of shoots lined up for Sunmi this week and next," Seokjin informs. "She has become more or less the female you. Once we wrap with her shoots and begin looking ahead to future issues, we will bring you back on. Can you handle another small vacation?"

Financially, Hoseok is more than set. Emotionally, however…

"Yeah," he says, doing his best to sound chipper and appreciative because admitting to his loneliness feels humiliating. "Of course. Just let me know when you plan to bring me back, boss."

"Sounds great," Seokjin says, ending the call without a goodbye.

* * *

Two blocks from their usual nightclub, a new spot has opened. Tonight is their soft launch, and being that it is two days away from Jeongguk's birthday, the group has assembled at Jimin's place to get ready for a night on the town. Seokjin had called Hoseok earlier in the day to let him know that his name was on the list – a perk of being friends with M Magazine – and Hoseok decided it would be a nice surprise for Jeongguk. 

"Will Yoongi be there?" was the first thing Hoseok asked, and Seokjin assured him that Yoongi was not the type to go to a club on a Friday night. 

Soon-to-be birthday boy Jeongguk is dressed in his usual black baggy pants, with a black mesh long-sleeve shirt and so many silver chains around his neck and wrists that he jangles whenever he moves. His hair has been cut rather short and he wears it in a messy bedhead style. 

Jimin, whose hair is freshly pink and coiffed over his forehead in pretty waves, lines Jeongguk's eyes in black. He is Jeongguk's opposite, covered head to toe in shimmer and iridescent plastic in the form of a pink choker and skirt. A skin-tight white tank is tucked into the short, stiff skirt that shines in tones of blue and purple as the light hits it. 

Taehyung wears a simple white tank tucked into loose black jeans, with a black leather choker around his neck sporting silver letters that spell the word SLUT. His freshly lightened and dyed hair is bright blue and cut in a messy bowl that fans out over his ears and above his brow. 

As his friends get ready in Jimin's large bedroom strewn with clothing, shoes, and makeup products, Hoseok stares at himself in a vanity mirror, shirtless with his hair limp and unstyled, and he feels weighed down with a heavy sense of not belonging here. Depression, he thinks. This has to be depression.

"Seok," Taehyung calls, and Hoseok hums a low, "Hmm?" in response as he continues to stare blankly at his own reflection. 

Seconds pass and then Hoseok is being tugged away from the mirror to the center of the room, where Jimin is holding several Dior pieces that Hoseok has brought with him. He holds up a black short sleeve button-up that has black logos covering it, and asks, "This plus white shorts?"

Hoseok shrugs, and it is all the encouragement his friends need. Suddenly, hands are tugging off the tan Dior pajama shorts that he wore over, and they are guiding him into a new outfit, mussing up his hair, painting his face, and covering him in accessories. 

By the time they are finished with him, the shirt is unbuttoned and only tucked in on one side, with a white mesh shirt underneath. He wears gold chains, stud earrings, rings, and bracelets, and his eyes are lined in black and gold. As he stares approvingly at his reflection, he is reminded of Namjoon's handiwork. 

"Thanks," Hoseok says, still feeling melancholy but grateful for his friends. "I look great."

"Duh," Jimin responds, face practically pressed against Hoseok's face. He rolls his eyes but smiles as he turns away from the mirror. 

Although each outfit is unique, they all have something in common with someone else. Jeongguk and Taehyung with matching loose-fitting pants; Hoseok, Jimin, and Taehyung with their matching white tanks; Hoseok and Jeongguk with their chains and mesh. The feeling of not belonging begins to fade, and Hoseok reminds himself that he is an important part of this group and that they all want him here tonight. 

Jeongguk retrieves a bottle of chilled clear soju, from which they all drink, and the alcohol warms Hoseok and loosens him up enough to pull him a bit out of his slump. 

When he hands the bottle to Jimin, Taehyung asks, "Wanna talk about it?"

Rather than ask which it he is referring to, Hoseok shrugs and says, "Just in a slump. After shooting brands at M, everything else feels…"

"Empty," Jeongguk supplies. 

Hoseok nods. "Yeah."

Part of him feels like an asshole for complaining at all. Jimin and Taehyung have never shot for M, and they are constantly bouncing from cramped, chaotic studio to cramped, chaotic studio. Jeongguk, who did shoot for M, never did high brands. He feels like a whiny, privileged little baby.

But, of course, his friends do not see it that way. All they see is that their friend is sad and that he could use some comforting.

"Adjustments are always difficult," Taehyung says as he wraps Hoseok in a warm hug, pinning his arms to his sides. "You'll get used to it."

Hoseok takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He closes his eyes and smiles as he says, "I know." What he means to say is thank you, but he thinks Taehyung knows that already. 

"Ready?" Jeongguk asks. Hoseok opens his eyes to see him holding what is left of the soju bottle out for him, and he manages to lift an arm and take the bottle, only thanks to Taehyung loosening his embrace just slightly enough.

Rather than clamber into a cab, they all slip into their black boots and chunky loafers and head out into the night. The club is no more than a twenty-minute walk, and it is a warm summer night with a light breeze that carries the scent of leaves and petals that are beginning to dry and change for the season. 

Jimin and Jeongguk walk with their arms linked together, slightly hopping with each step. Hoseok and Taehyung are a few paces behind, quiet and lacking in enthusiasm as they move forward.

As cars and pedestrians pass, so too does the remainder of Hoseok's sour mood. He does not want to be a downer for his friend's birthday. And anyway, it has been a while since the four of them have put this much effort into their appearances to go out. 

"Feeling better?" Taehyung asks as the lights of the neighborhood begin to brighten and the stretch of bars and clubs comes into view ahead. 

Hoseok shrugs and wets his lips with his tongue. His eyes are plastered to the stone sidewalk and the backs of Jimin's boots.  After a pause, he says, "Yeah. I guess so."

"Is it him?" Taehyung asks, voice low and conspiratorial. 

This makes Hoseok chuckle, and he nods as he says, "Yeah. It's him."

Taehyung hums knowingly but says nothing more. The silence suddenly feels oppressive. 

"I don't really know what to do about him, I guess," Hoseok admits, voice low. "He doesn't want a relationship and I…well, I'm needy and clingy. I want something."

Taehyung hums again, a low, "Mmhmm," that urges Hoseok to keep talking. 

"I fucked him," he says. 

Ahead of him, both Jimin and Jeongguk slow almost to a stop, causing Hoseok and Taehyung to abruptly stop. 

"You, what?" Jimin asks, looking over his shoulder. Jeongguk continues to look straight ahead.

"It was unceremonious and rushed," Hoseok says. "And perfect. We had dinner and beers one night. I told him we needed to talk. But, of course, we didn't talk. We never do. I took him to my place, and as soon as the door to my apartment was shut, my hands were on him, pulling his clothing off and bending him over the couch."

The four of them continue on, and when nobody says anything Hoseok says, "But then I tried to kiss him and he pulled away. He got dressed, and I got upset, and we exchanged unpleasant words, and he left."

"Have you spoken about it since?" Taehyung asks.

Suddenly, Hoseok wants to cry. His eyes begin to wet, and he hugs his arms around his tummy, squeezing himself tight. He feels cold and unwanted. 

"No," is all he says. 

For two more blocks, nobody says a word. They approach the front of the club, where a long line of people waiting to be let inside snakes around the outside of the building. 

"Follow me," Hoseok says as he makes his way to the security guard stationed at the door. He says, "Jung Hoseok," and watches as the man eyes him up, checks his list, and nods. 

"How many?" the man asks.

"Four," Hoseok says, smiling widely as the final dredges of his bad mood begin to disappear. 

Once inside, Jimin wraps Hoseok in an excited back hug, and Jeongguk says, "Whoa! Thanks, hyung!"

"It was all Seokjin's doing," Hoseok says as they make their way to the bar. 

The club is an enormous square with a dancefloor to the back and a bar to the right. On the left wall is a set of steps leading up to a VIP area, guarded with a black velvet rope and a burly man in uniform, and the center of the space is littered with high-top tables.

It is typical nightclub fare with rainbow lights, lasers, and loud, remixed pop music. The space is already pretty packed, though not to the point of having to squeeze through crowds to get to where they need to go, and the lines for the bar are not too long. 

The four of them order three rounds of shots of something that smells like strawberry and the astringent scent of clear hard liquor, and one round of bright blue long islands. They head toward the dancefloor, which is semi-partitioned with a row of wood slats all set five or so feet apart from one another. Tables litter the outer edge of the space, all of which are occupied with glasses ranging from full to empty, and there are dim hallways on either side of the dancefloor that lead off to restrooms and an outdoor patio. 

Hoseok chugs his drink and leaves the empty glass behind, grimacing through a burst of brain freeze as he shimmies his way into the loose throng of bodies. He closes his eyes and lifts his arms, allowing the music to flow through him and sway his body from side to side. Then he opens his eyes in time to watch Jimin throw his arms around his neck and pull him close. 

"You're the best, Seokie-hyung!" Jimin shouts over the music. He presses a kiss to Hoseok's cheek that leaves behind a glossy, sticky smudge. 

"Anything for our Jeonggukie," Hoseok says as the other two approach and close in on them. 

They dance in a semi-circle until Jimin presses his ass to Jeongguk's crotch, initiating the grind line. Taehyung is already somewhat positioned to be in front of Jimin, facing Hoseok, and they move together as one, wrists draping over shoulders and around hips. 

Hoseok pushes his fingers into Taehyung's newly blue hair and rests his face against his shoulder, swishing but not really grinding, finding he doesn't really feel up to it. Taehyung does not seem to mind, moving in smaller sweeping motions along with Hoseok rather than the sharper, hornier movements of a typical grind.

"You miss him," Taehyung says, the side of his mouth pressed against Hoseok's temple. 

Hoseok does miss him. With a nod, he closes his eyes. 

After one and a half more songs, Hoseok feels antsy, warm, and tipsy. He peels out of Taehyung's loose but comfortable hold and announces that he is going to get another drink. Jeongguk breaks away from Jimin's eager hips while Jimin wraps himself around Taehyung, urging him to stay. 

Although the music blasts throughout the entire space, it is loudest on the dancefloor. As they walk between two wooden partitions, the air feels slightly cooler and less all-encompassing, and Hoseok lets out a relieved sigh. 

"Happy birthday," he says as he wraps an arm around Jeongguk's waist and pushes him toward the bar. 

The two of them take more shots, this time of grapefruit-flavored soju, then they order two more bright blue drinks and find a place near the edge of the bar to stand where there are fewer people. 

"You're quiet tonight," Jeongguk says, to Hoseok's chagrin. 

Hoseok lets out a long, dramatic, exasperated sigh, bending at the knees and hips as if it physically pains him to carry the weight of Jeongguk's words. Jeongguk's face scrunches up into several moon shapes and he lets out a cute giggle. 

"I know," Hoseok mutters with the bright pink straw of his drink caught between his teeth. "I'm not really all here."

Jeongguk shifts his weight back and forth a little. He pulls his drink to his lips, then lowers it as if he is going to speak, only to raise it again and pull blue liquid through his yellow straw. 

"What is it?" Hoseok asks, feeling impatient. He knows Jeongguk wants to ask about Yoongi and the longer he spends not doing so, the more antsy Hoseok feels. 

Unable to stare at his friend, who seems to be thinking about what he wants to say, Hoseok allows his eyes to trail around the room. He loves the chaos of a nightclub. The sweat, the intoxication and lower inhibitions, the sex. Something about this raucous environment always makes him feel so alive, even when he is feeling a bit less enthusiastic, like tonight. As some cute girl with long, straight black hair grinds against their friend at the bar, mouthing the lyrics to some raunchy pop song, Jeongguk clears his throat, pulling Hoseok's attention. 

"I guess I wasn't fully honest about what happened between us," Jeongguk says. "But I didn't want you to think I held back for the sake of myself…or whatever."

Hoseok pinches his straw between his teeth and cocks his head at Jeongguk, curious what he means. 

"I never thought that Yoongi and I could be anything once he said it was over," Jeongguk clarifies. "Honestly, I wasn't even really all that hurt by it. I think part of me was jealous by the prospect of the two of you. Or maybe I was worried about feeling replaced."

"When I started working there?" Hoseok asks, straw still in his mouth.

Jeongguk nods. 

Hoseok knits his brow. "What makes you think we would have done anything in the first place?"

With an incredulous expression that causes Jeongguk's entire posture to sag, he asks, "Seok, for real? You're you. And he's him. Of course the two of you would have bickered your way into one another's pants."

This makes Hoseok laugh so abruptly that he ends up blowing air into his straw and causing his drink to bubble, nearly spilling over the top of the glass. Stunned by the drink nearly erupting, Hoseok laughs even harder, this time holding the glass a safe distance from his face. 

Jeongguk sets his glass down on the edge of the bar, nearly doubling over. It really wasn't that funny, but there is something about the sudden chain of events between Jeongguk's remark and Hoseok's clumsiness that sends both of them over the edge. Surely, the booze is also to blame.

Once the two of them catch their breath, Hoseok gently rubs one of his knuckles below his eye to wipe away any mascara that may have smudged from his eyes tearing up. 

"We definitely do have chemistry." Saying it aloud has Hoseok feeling wistful.

Jeongguk nods. "I can imagine. We had fun, but there was definitely a power imbalance. I like being controlled and naïve but I always got the impression he was hoping for someone to boss him around."

"I know this about you, Ggukie," Hoseok says through a chuckle. "And him, because you're right. The man loves to let go of control."

"You also know I am too clingy for my own good. Even though I had you, Taehyungah, and Jiminah, I still wanted him all to myself. We talked a lot about ending things."

Hoseok rolls his eyes and leans forward to gently punch Jeongguk on the shoulder. "You told me he dropped you like a hot little sweet potato."

Jeongguk shrugs and grins. "You know how I like to get!"

At the same time, the two of them say, "Dramatic."

Hoseok feels relieved that the stories are a bit more straight between Jeongguk and Yoongi. Knowing Yoongi did not simply use Jeongguk and toss him aside as he may have suggested has him feeling better about his own situation. 

Briefly, he thinks he feels hopeful. But then he reminds himself that things between the two of them are over. At least he can sleep at night knowing he hasn't been the shittiest friend alive to his darling little Jeonggukie.

"Wanna get back onto the dancefloor?" Jeongguk asks.

Hoseok nods quickly then slurps down the remainder of his drink. He leans to place the empty glass on the edge of the bar and turns toward the dancefloor, only to be stopped by the sound of a familiar male voice shouting, "Hoseokahhh!"

The voice sounds like it belongs to Namjoon, and Hoseok whips around, scanning the room for a familiar face. He spots Namjoon approaching haphazardly through the crowd as if coming from the steps that lead to the VIP area.

Excitement fills Hoseok, and he skips ahead. As soon as he is close enough, he leaps into Namjoon's outstretched arms, wrapping his arms around his neck and forcing Namjoon to catch him.

"Joon Baboon, I have missed you," Hoseok whines, breathing in Namjoon's cologne without any sense of shame. 

Namjoon chuckles and slowly sets Hoseok back down onto his feet. "It is nice to see you again."

As Hoseok releases his hold from Namjoon's neck, he turns to glance over his shoulder and spots Jeongguk back where he left him, shifting back and forth on his feet with his gaze glued to the floor. 

"You remember Jeonggukie?" Hoseok asks, turning back to Namjoon.

Namjoon glances past Hoseok and his eyes widen. Clearing his throat, Namjoon's voice is deep as he says, "Oh. Wow." Then, much louder, he shouts, "Hey, Jeongguk!"

"It's his birthday in two days," Hoseok adds, nudging his elbow toward Namjoon.

The two of them exchange greetings and the tension between them is thick. Hoseok is delighted by how shy and curious they seem around one another. He considers giving them space and returning to his friends, but then it dawns on him how strange it is to see Namjoon out at a club.

"Wait," Hoseok says, interrupting the two of them. "What are you doing here?"

Namjoon licks his lips and raises his eyes as if he is attempting to glance behind himself. Hoseok instinctively looks up toward the steps that lead to the VIP area and finds a familiar man standing at the top of those steps, face covered by a black mask. Both the familiar man and Joon Baboon wear black button-ups tucked into black slacks, and Hoseok realizes it must be some work-related thing.

Before he can stop himself, he says, "Oh."

Namjoon clears his throat. "We actually…we, being M Magazine…uh, we have a surprise for you."

It takes Hoseok a beat too long to realize Namjoon is talking about him. He blinks owlishly and blurts, "Huh?"

"Upstairs," Namjoon adds.

"But…" Hoseok heavy-blinks, voice lowering, "Seokjin said he wouldn't be here."

"Ah, yeah, well," Namjoon visibly swallows, "I think Seokjin was attempting to keep the surprise alive. He doesn't…know…does he?"

"Seokjin?" Hoseok asks, and Namjoon nods. "No, he doesn't know."

Namjoon nods, nibbling on his bottom lip as if trying to come up with something to say. Then he sighs and says, "Well, I am going to head up, and you should too. At least for a little bit. I promise the surprise is worth it. And, well, I worked really hard on it. Jeongguk, you're welcome to join us if you would like to." Namjoon begins turning his body toward the staircase.

Hoseok half expects Jeongguk to decline, and is surprised when he says, "Sure! As long as there's free booze." 

With a nod that shows off Namjoon's adorable dimples, leads the way through the crowd to the steps. A security guard asks, "How many?" to which Namjoon says, "Two more," and then they are allowed access past the black velvet rope. 

At the top of the stairs, Yoongi continues to wear his face mask, standing with his side profile visible. He reaches out to grasp the hands of a female model and raises them while bowing his head as if to kiss them.

Hoseok knows he should not take the movement seriously. He knows he should not be watching the two of them interacting at all. But she is a tall, slender goddess with long orange wavy hair and a bright, beaming smile, and Hoseok feels envy and sadness sloshing around with all the alcohol in his stomach as he slowly makes his way to the top of the stairs. 

Foolishly, Hoseok hopes Yoongi and this gorgeous woman being together in some way is not the surprise. Of course, why would it be? Flaunting the two of them in front of him would be the nastiest surprise anyone could give him. Yet it is all he can think about. Suddenly, Hoseok thinks to himself that he may just be drunk.

As they make their way to the top of the stairs, there is cheering and clapping from inside the closed-off VIP area. Yoongi and the woman make their way into the room, disappearing from view, and Hoseok sees streamers and balloons decorating the walls and ceilings. He thinks he even hears a bottle of champagne get popped. 

Namjoon reaches the top first, then takes several steps forward and turns so that he is both facing the steps and the room beyond. As Hoseok crests the top, he sees a cardboard cutout of the female model standing near some tables along the back wall, as well as framed photos of her centerfold and cover. 

This…is a strange surprise for Hoseok. Has he just been brought over to celebrate this woman?

"Everyone!" Namjoon shouts while raising his arms. He turns to look at Hoseok, making him regret coming up here at all. Everything feels weird, and Hoseok instinctively takes a step backward, but Jeongguk places his hands on Hoseok's back, shoving him toward Namjoon, who says, "Look who I have!"

Yoongi, who has removed his mask and is busying himself with pouring a glass of whiskey in the back end of the room, looks up and meets Hoseok's eye. He smiles slightly but quickly schools his expression to something more stern and professional. Hoseok is certain that others have turned to look at him, but the only person who has his attention is Yoongi, who places the whiskey down and stands up straight. 

"Now that the guests of honor are both here," Yoongi announces, raising his glass, "we can have ourselves a proper party. Everyone, please help me in congratulating our two latest cover and centerfold models, Jung Hoseok and Lee Sunmi."

The room erupts into applause, and Hoseok glances around the space, confused by just what the fuck is going on until he spots, opposite Sunmi's cutouts and framed magazine shots, are his own. He steps forward, feeling oddly powerful as the crowd parts for him, to approach several cardboard versions of himself in Dior and Louis Vuitton outfits. 

Tears build in Hoseok's eyes and he pulls his hands to his mouth, scared he is going to let out a nasty, wet sob and embarrass himself. Hands delicately rest on his shoulders and he allows himself to believe it could be Yoongi, knowing full well that it is not.

"Look at you," Jeongguk says, voice lilted with pride. "These perfume shots are fucking insane."

Hearing one of his closest friends praise him has tears escaping in fat trails down Hoseok's cheeks. He sniffles and says, with a choked, solemn voice, "I had to wear a merkin."

"Ah, Jeongguk-ssi," Yoongi says from somewhere behind Hoseok. "How nice to see you again."

Hoseok nearly laughs at the absurdity of the three of them standing together at last, and he wonders whether Jeongguk is going to say anything scathing or snippy. Apparently, he is in a good mood, because he simply says, "Hey, Yoongi-ssi. Congrats on the latest issues."

Yoongi chuckles and it sounds too measured and clean. Not…fake…per se. But definitely not the chuckle of a man who is fully comfortable in his own skin at the moment. 

"The congratulations all go to your friend here, and to our darling Sunmi. I just snap the photos and make tiny edits to enhance their already existing perfection."

Hoseok turns, rolling his eyes dramatically. He decides that for now, he is drunk enough to be in a good mood in the presence of the man who walked out on him moments after getting railed against his wall. 

"Oh, please, Yoongi-ssi," Hoseok teases, "your modesty is unbecoming. You staged every bit of these shoots, did you not?"

Yoongi's expression softens long enough for him to shrug and cock his head to the side, toward where Namjoon stands across the room. He says, "I had help," and then his smirk returns. 

Suddenly, Hoseok feels spent. He has nothing more to say, and the thought of conjuring a subject for conversation between Yoongi and Jeongguk of all people has him wishing he could turn into water and seep down through the floor. 

Luckily for him, Seokjin has arrived and is shouting and cheering jovially. "Ah, there he is! My pride and joy!" Seokjin announces as he approaches with his arms held out toward Hoseok.

Unsure what to do with himself, largely because Seokjin hugging or making any other form of physical contact feels alien, Hoseok stands stiff as a board and waits for the older man to do whatever it is he intends to do. 

Seokjin slaps his hands down on Hoseok's shoulders and says, "Congratulations, my brilliant, beautiful protégé," and then rests his arms to his sides. Physical contact over.

Yoongi chuckles and says, "Please, most of these photos were taken when he was under my representation."

With a dismissive flick of his wrist, Seokjin mutters, "Technicalities." Then he looks from Hoseok to Jeongguk and glances around, confused. "The bouncer said you were a party of four. Where are the other two?"

Hoseok also looks around despite not needing to; he knows exactly where his friends are. "Oh, uh, downstairs dancing."

With a heavy sigh, Seokjin turns to Jeongguk and says, "Jeongguk-ssi – nice to see you again, by the way." Jeongguk mutters that it is nice to see him too, but Seokjin continues, "I hate to ask this of you, but would you mind retrieving your friends? I would like for everyone to celebrate Hoseok's big moment."

Jeongguk bows his head, and, with a hand on Hoseok's lower back, says, "I shall return momentarily."

"I need a drink," Hoseok says, mostly to himself the second his emotional support Jeonggukie is gone. 

"This way," Seokjin responds, holding out an arm toward the back of the room beneath the row of Sunmis. 

Hoseok follows, gazing up at the photographs. She really is a beauty, with perfect lines and facial expressions. She has a knack for wearing really funky, strange outfits; some of the images feature runway looks from the upcoming Alexander McQueen line, with shoulders and hips that are more bulbous than usual, and long strips of useless fabric hanging from everywhere imaginable, making the air around her appear to be incarcerated. 

But none of her shoots are similar to the perfume shoot Hoseok did, nor the one where he was smeared with gold paint. She is always fully covered and demure. 

Still, he lingers on the photographs containing stranger outfits and says, "I want to do that."

"Funny you should say that," Seokjin responds, still hovering close, to Hoseok's amusement. He has never seen Seokjin quite so chipper before. "I am in the process of something huge."

"Oh?" Hoseok says as he takes stock of the long refreshments table and decides he would like a gin and tonic. 

"It comes with a catch, however," Seokjin adds as Hoseok pours fizzy tonic water into a tall glass of gin. 

"What sort of catch?"

From his left, Hoseok hears the clearing of a throat. He is eighty percent sure that the throat belongs to Yoongi, and so he ignores it, using metal tongs to gently place cubes of ice into his already full drink. Perhaps, he thinks, he is a bit too intoxicated to be performing tasks that require a certain order of operations. 

"Hoseok," Yoongi says, confirming his suspicion and causing him to drop a cube into his drink too quickly, disturbing the carbonated tonic water and spilling some of his clear concoction onto the white tablecloth below. 

Hoseok grins, turning to Yoongi as he says, "See what you made me do?"

To Hoseok's chagrin, Yoongi watches him sternly, unamused. Not that Hoseok is surprised. 

"Can we speak, please?" Yoongi asks. 

Hoseok sighs dramatically and nods, but rather than follow Yoongi deeper into the room, he first grabs a small white paper napkin and blots at the spill. 

"Avoiding him or just being a brat?" Seokjin asks. 

Once more, Hoseok sighs, and he mutters, "Two things can be true at once," as he reluctantly turns to the right and approaches the far end of the room where Yoongi waits. He wedges his straw between his teeth and stares at Yoongi's polished black loafers. 

Quietly, Yoongi clears his throat once more. When Hoseok does not meet his eye, he lets out a quiet, frustrated groan, yet manages to keep his voice measured as he says, "I know this is not the optimal time and place for a chat, but I wanted to ask how you are doing."

"This is definitely not the optional time or space," Hoseok says, realizing after he has spoken that he has said the wrong word. Maybe another drink was a mistake. "Honestly, what are we doing? Being amiable?" He lets out a wet, dramatic pfft!

"Alright," Yoongi says. "Follow me to the patio, then? I think the two of us could use some fresh air."

Fresh air does sound great but with Yoongi? Hoseok would rather choke. Still, he grumbles, "Sure, fine," and turns to head toward the exit.

Namjoon asks if something is the matter, but then his gaze must clock Yoongi coming up behind Hoseok because he does not press the matter further. Hoseok wishes he would press it further, but Namjoon is the type of sweetheart who would rather let people sort their own bullshit out. 

Hoseok holds onto the railing, stomping a little too hard down the stairs. Between the coordination involved and the combination of loud music and bright rainbow lights, he feels burdened by the task. When he makes it down to the bottom, he glances over his shoulder to see that Yoongi, who has put his mask back over his lower face, is several paces behind. 

Rather than wait for him, Hoseok continues, scanning the crowd for his friends so he can tell them what is going on. When he doesn't spot them, he continues on toward the dancefloor, and then into a hallway that leads back along the right side of the building to an open door. 

Hoseok slurps his drink down, anxious as he anticipates actually needing to have a conversation with Yoongi and questioning why he can never seem to just tell the man no. He slurps it down so fast, in fact, that as he approaches the door, the sound of air coming through the straw greets him. Disappointment quakes through Hoseok as he sets the empty glass down onto a table full of empty glasses just beside the door, bidding farewell to the thing he was planning on fidgeting with. 

He walks out into the cool night air and takes a deep, slow inhale. There are only a handful of other people present, and they are scattered about the rather large, fenced-in space, sitting at wooden tables and in their own worlds. 

Yoongi walks past Hoseok to a table along the back wall, near the corner, and sits with his back facing the door. Hoseok kicks a small pebble around on the blacktop ground and then concedes to walking forward and joining him.

On the small table sits two tall cups of clear liquid that Hoseok wishes would be more gin and tonic but assumes to be water. As he sits on the chair furthest from Yoongi, Yoongi uses two fingers to slide one of the cups toward him. 

"This got awkward fast," Yoongi says, voice semi-muffled from his mask. 

"How are you going to drink yours with your mouth covered?" Hoseok asks as he lifts the cup to his lips. The water is nice and cold, despite not having any ice, and it sends a shiver through Hoseok as he sips.

"Why don't you let me worry about that," Yoongi responds. 

Hoseok rolls his eyes. 

"Perhaps surprising you was a mistake," Yoongi says. "I want to apologize for that. Seokjin was given strict directions to get you here, but you and your friends must have arrived a bit too early."

Hoseok feels petulant. Is this because he had been drinking? Is Yoongi trying to berate him? "Sorry for being too drunk for your liking," he grumbles angrily, staring at his water.

"What I mean is that the situation seems to have made you uncomfortable. I don't care that you're drunk."

Hoseok hums a tone that suggests he is unconvinced. "Crazy that everything I do lately is controlled somehow by you."

There is a pause, then Yoongi says, "Do go on," in an amused tone that really pisses Hoseok off. 

 "I came here to celebrate my friend's birthday and it feels weird shifting the attention onto me like this. I mean, what kind of asshole fucking friend have I been to Jeongguk? First you and now this."

Hoseok waves an arm out, gesturing widely despite no longer being inside where the party is. He meets Yoongi's gaze and is surprised by how disgusted he looks with him. 

"You're mad because we threw you a congratulatory party?" Yoongi asks. "Fine, I'll be sure to tell your manager that next time we want to thank you for all your hard work, we'll need to be sure to schedule it for a time when none of your friends have upcoming birthdays." 

Hoseok rolls his eyes. "Great. Whatever. Fuck, I don't know." His mind whorls. As he attempts to sort out why he has brought up any of this, all he can focus on is the fact that he was having a really good night with his friends, and now Yoongi is here and everything is back to feeling really fucking weird. "I'm not in a good head place to do this right now," he mutters.

"A good headspace?" Yoongi asks.

Hoseok scoffs, chuckles, and then rolls his eyes. "Yeah. Sure. Headspace. Go fuck yourself Yoongi."

The patio spins as Hoseok abruptly stands and then shifts his body in the direction that he thinks the door is. And then it continues to spin, and his butt is back to being planted in his seat, the wooden legs scraping against the blacktop. 

"Go fuck myself?" Yoongi snarls, standing up with his palms on the table, leaning so close to Hoseok that his cologne fills his senses. His voice is low, measured, and biting. "All you do is take and take, and then complain when things don't go your way. I show you kindness and vulnerability and you sneak out while I'm asleep only to cry about how something I said to you was too nice. I show up to your place to talk things through and you fuck me against the wall and then cry about how I'm no longer in the mood to talk. Now I throw you this party and you cry about how I'm ruining your night out with friends. How are you always this self-absorbed?"

Tears fill Hoseok's eyes and he hugs his arms tight around himself, shaking his head no despite having nothing to say to counter Yoongi's words.

"You're a spoiled little brat who throws a fit when you don't get your way. You have no respect for people's boundaries, but all the audacity in the world to hurl accusations. I wanted to get close to you, but it wasn't fast enough for your liking, so you pushed me away. Even now, after everything you have done, I still want to give you runway model contracts and shower you in praise, and sneak off away from everyone else to be alone with you, but all you want to do is sit here and pout like a scorn child."

A sob pulls from deep in Hoseok's chest, and he squeezes his eyes closed as he says, "Please stop."

"If you want to talk to me like a man, you know where to reach me, but I won't sit here and be told to go fuck myself. Sorry for dragging you all the way out here away from your friends with the hope of talking to you for the first time in weeks. Have a good night, Hoseok."

Wood scrapes against blacktop, and then Yoongi is walking away. Hoseok buries his face in his hands and cries. He knows that what Yoongi says is true, but he refuses to believe he is the only one to blame. If only he were a little more sober, he would have been able to think everything through and come up with a response, but in this state, he has nothing. He feels like nothing. 

"Um, what the hell?" a male voice asks. It takes Hoseok a moment too long to realize the voice belongs to Seokjin. 

Hoseok looks up past his hands to find his boss assessing him with an expression of confusion and anger. Seokjin squats down and places a hand on Hoseok's elbow.

"Yoongichi said I would find you here, but I was not expecting to find you like this."

"Please," Hoseok hiccups and sniffles. "It's too embarrassing. Don't make me do this."

"Did he make you cry like this?"

Hoseok nods. He wants to tell Seokjin that the situation has nuance and that he is not all innocent. But he can't find the words.

"Yah, Yoongiah!" Seokjin shouts, and Hoseok glances up, worried he will see Yoongi again before realizing Seokjin is on his phone. "Get your ass back out here and sort out whatever mess you made."

"I don't want him to come back," Hoseok groans. 

"I don't care what your drama outside the studio is, but we are celebrating Hoseok tonight, and whatever you said to him, you need to take it all back."

Hoseok reaches for Seokjin, who sits just barely too far. He shakes his head, pleading. "No, please, he and I can talk it through tomorrow. I don't want to see him again."

Seokjin moves his phone away from his ear and sighs. Hoseok has no idea whether Yoongi is still on the line or not. 

"Yoongichi tells me the two of you became…close."

Hoseok swallows a lump and sniffles loudly. Then he very meekly nods his head and says, "Uh huh."

"He says things became awkward and you decided to leave M Magazine to create distance."

Hoseok drops his face into his hands once more. This is too embarrassing. 

There is movement. A sigh before standing, shuffling around, and pulling a wooden chair close. Then there are hands delicately pulling Hoseok's hands away from his face. 

"You are drunk, so I am going to keep this concise," Seokjin says, making Hoseok groan and wince. "Yah, Hoseokah! I'm not berating you for being drunk at an establishment that caters to serving their patrons alcohol. I just mean to say we're in no position to have the meaningful conversation that needs to eventually be had."

Hoseok sniffles and nods, accepting what Seokjin is saying. He lowers his hands and stares down at the wooden table. 

"Yoongi is my best friend in the world. I love him more than I love most humans. But sometimes…well, sometimes he can be a dickhead."

Hoseok smiles at Seokjin's candor. He opens his mouth to agree with Seokjin, but is interrupted by Yoongi saying, "Gee, thanks."

At the sound of his voice, Hoseok raises his shoulders to his ears and closes his eyes. He had already forgotten that Seokjin called him to tell him to come back.

"We need to fix this," Seokjin says. "Hoseokah is expected to return and be celebrated for his achievements. Whatever it is you said to him to make him cry – even if you were not fully in the wrong – take responsibility for it right now and fix this mess. I want him back upstairs in no more than fifteen minutes. Hoseokah, please have some water."

At that, Seokjin is standing and leaving, and Hoseok is back to wishing he could disappear. 

Yoongi sighs but says nothing. Hoseok sinks further into his seat. He reaches for the cup of water and drinks it all in one gulp, then puts the cup down and considers drinking Yoongi's neglected cup, too.

"You look nice tonight," Yoongi finally says. 

Hoseok chuckles. "Okay."

"Look, I was out of line," Yoongi says as he sits down where Seokjin just was. Hoseok keeps his eyes on the table, nibbling on the inside of his lip. "I shouldn't have said all that to you. Obviously I'm frustrated, and we haven't been communicating well, but I picked the wrong time and place. And, being more sober than you…it wasn't a fair fight."

"It shouldn't be a fight at all," Hoseok mutters. "Fair or otherwise. But it always is. You call me a spoiled brat but then you act like a spoiled brat when someone tells you to go fuck yourself." 

Yoongi hums, then quietly admits, "It pissed me off."

Hoseok finally glances up, glaring at Yoongi as he asks, "Why?" 

Yoongi has his mask pulled down past his chin, and he runs his tongue along the bottom row of his teeth. 

"Was it the words that pissed you off or just the fact that I said them?" Hoseok asks.

When Yoongi says nothing more, Hoseok pulls his phone from his pocket and fumbles to turn the camera on. He checks himself on the screen, upset by how red his eyes are, but proud of his makeup for barely smudging. With his thumb, he rubs just below the corners of his eyes and then turns off his screen. He feels semi-sobered up compared to moments ago and takes a deep, slow breath in, then out. 

"I have a lot to say about all that mean shit you said to me, but I am too drunk to be doing this," Hoseok says, finally getting back to his feet and standing. He realizes far, far too late that he barely ate food all day, which must explain why he began to feel so intoxicated almost all at once. "And I am supposed to be getting celebrated, so I am going to go back in there and drink some water and eat finger foods and allow your rich little asshole friends to tell me how beautiful I am."

To Hoseok's surprise, the edges of Yoongi's mouth quirk into a brief little smile. 

"I am not a spoiled brat," Hoseok says, placing his hands on his hips for balance. "And I do respect boundaries. But I am sorry that I haven't been respecting yours enough. I'm not used to falling for people who have walls built up so fucking high. And you send mixed signals! This is not all my fault." Hoseok jabs his right index finger into his own chest.

Yoongi nods, sitting back in his chair while continuing to look up at Hoseok. And, god, Hoseok hates how badly he wants to lean down and kiss him. 

Instead, Hoseok says, "Apologize so that I can accept it and return to the party."

"I'm sorry," Yoongi says, tilting his head to the side.

Hoseok raises his eyebrows. "For…?"

Yoongi sighs and rolls his eyes, but he smiles too, sitting up tall. "I'm sorry for overreacting and calling you names. It was uncouth of me."

"Uncouth," Hoseok mocks.

Yoongi's voice drops an octave, and he looks up at Hoseok through his eyelashes as he says, "I meant it when I said you look nice tonight."

"Great," Hoseok says, slapping his hands to his thighs. "Apology accepted."

Hoseok begins to make his way to the door, and Yoongi must stand quickly because his chair scrapes loudly. 

"Wait," Yoongi says. "That's it?"

Hoseok turns to find Yoongi has already raised his mask back over his mouth, and Hoseok steps forward, so close that their noses touch through the fabric.

"Why? You want something more from me." 

Yoongi's eyes widen. He says, "Of course, I do," and Hoseok is grateful he can't see him smirking. 

Hoseok's mind swirls with thoughts of telling Yoongi off, of pulling Yoongi into a dark corner, of taking Yoongi by the hand and leading him all the way back to his apartment, of detouring with Yoongi to get a piping hot sweet potato from the street vendor. 

Instead, he turns and walks away. The music is loud as he makes his way down the dark hall and into the main bar. As he walks toward the stairs, he has to turn sideways and shuffle past bodies, muttering apologetic phrases that are too low to be heard. 

Seokjin stands at the bottom of the steps with his arms crossed at his chest. As soon as he spots Hoseok, he raises his chin and gives a curt nod. 

"Right on time," he says, although Hoseok has no idea whether that is true. Seokjin unclasps the end of the velvet rope and holds it open, adding, "Up you go," while continuing to hold it for Yoongi.

Hoseok does not check to see whether Yoongi is right behind him as he makes his way back up. He is still drunk but feels more in control of himself. Everything that happened on the patio seems like a blur. A nightmare. 

The way Yoongi spoke to him was uncalled for, but Hoseok understands what it is like to explode on someone and be perhaps meaner than intended. He wants to give Yoongi grace, really, he does. He also wants to slap him across the mouth.

As soon as Hoseok reaches the top of the stairs, he finds his friends in a circle chatting with Sunmi. Taehyung is the first to spot him, and he yells for Hoseok, causing the others to turn around. 

Trepidation fills Hoseok at the thought of talking to the beautiful woman who Yoongi has been spending a lot of his quality time with. Yoongi claims he is not interested in her, but how can Hoseok be so sure? She is absolutely stunning. 

As Hoseok approaches, he is pulled into a group hug by his friends, all of whom ask where he was. 

"Stepped out to get some fresh air," he says, doing his best to sound as sober and assured as he can. "And I had something I wanted to discuss with the boss men."

As he says this, Yoongi, whose mask has been removed, walks past them to the refreshments table. Hoseok fights the urge to stick his tongue out at the man's retreating form. 

"Hoseok-ssi?" a small, feminine voice says. 

Hoseok glances around and realizes the voice belongs to Sunmi. He feels his cheeks warm as he says, "Hey, Sunmi-ssi."

Sunmi rolls her eyes and steps forward, saying, "Please. Call me noona." She throws her arms open as wide as she can without hitting any of Hoseok's friends with her arms, adding, "You're the Hoseok that Yoongi-ssi talks about endlessly. Congratulations! Your centerfolds are stunning."

Hoseok is shocked, taking a step back from the force of the embrace and wrapping his arms around her. She is tiny even in heels, resting her head comfortably under Hoseok's chin, and so dainty in his arms, Hoseok worries he might break her if he squeezes too hard.

"Oh," he says, sobering up more by the second, because what did she just say about Yoongi talking about him endlessly? "Thank you so much, noona."

Sunmi pulls from the hug but Hoseok's arms hover around her as if creating a protective shield. "Congratulations to you, as well. I love the McQueen shots."

"Oh my gosh, thank you!" Sunmi beams. "I can't wait to share the runway with you next time!"

Hoseok cocks his head to the side and blurts out a confused, "Huh?"

With wide eyes, Sunmi's hands fly to her mouth, and she glances around apologetically before mouthing, "Oops!" to Yoongi, whose presence behind Hoseok is told through smell, alone. 

"Ah, well, the cat is out of the bag," Yoongi says. A large, warm hand sets on Hoseok's right shoulder, and Hoseok resists the urge to wiggle it away. "Seokjin-ssi, join us a moment."

The group parts for Seokjin, who arrives with a cookie hanging from his mouth and two flutes of champagne in his hands. He holds one out to Hoseok, who takes a step to the left, giving Yoongi space to join them and also to stop touching him. As his friends crowd around, Hoseok also spots Namjoon stepping up close to Jeongguk.

"Hoseok-ssi," Yoongi says, raising a glass of whiskey. His eyes are somewhat bloodshot, and Hoseok wonders whether it is from the alcohol. He has a crooked, cute smile on his face, and he opens and closes his mouth several times before turning his gaze to Seokjin. "Actually, Seokjin-ssi, as his agent and manager, perhaps you would like to share the good news."

Seokjin nods, still chewing on cookie, and washes it down with some of his champagne, grimacing undoubtedly from the combination of flavors before flashing a wide smile. 

"The news I mentioned earlier, that comes with a catch. A little bird involved with Paris Fashion week has been asking about you," Seokjin says, raising his eyebrows. "You and Sunmi, to be exact."

"Oh," Hoseok says, unable to fully absorb the news. 

"Oh?" Seokjin asks, glowering suddenly. "Oh?! Yah! This is the best news of your life!"

Hoseok heavy-blinks and nods, looking around at his friends, who are thrilled, most of all Jimin, who is bouncing on his heels. 

"Sorry," he finally says, licking his lips. "I'm thrilled, honestly. It just…feels fake."

Yoongi chuckles and places his dreaded warm, large hand back onto Hoseok's shoulder. "It is very much real. So? What do you say?"

For a beat too long, Hoseok stares into Yoongi's dark, pretty eyes. They are wide with hope and joy, and it breaks his heart. What he would give for Yoongi to always look at him this way, even after the way he made Hoseok cry earlier. 

"Yes," Hoseok says, eyes welling with tears. "Yes, of course, I will go."

"Wonderful!" Seokjin cheers. He raises his half-consumed champagne and says, "To Hoseok and Sunmi!"

Hoseok raises his glass with both hands and bows his head, overwhelmed with emotion. Tears streak his cheeks, and he keeps his head lowered. He wants to revel in this moment for as long as he can before reality crashes back and claims his good mood. 

Once everyone has tapped their glasses to Hoseok's and patted him on the back, he raises his head, sniffles disgustingly loud, and gulps back the champagne. Then he sobs and sobs, engulfed in the bodies of his friends and thrust into darkness. 

For the remainder of the night, Hoseok drinks water. Sunmi's long-term girlfriend is present, and they chat about where they grew up, what got them into modeling, and the upcoming trip to Paris. Hoseok wants to bring his friends, and although they insist that it is too generous and that they couldn't possibly tag along, he is already planning on choosing outfits from his collection for all four of them to wear. 

People begin to file out, but Hoseok feels obligated to stay until at least Seokjin or Yoongi leaves. He is relieved when Yoongi thanks everyone for coming out tonight, does a deep bow to Sunmi and Hoseok, pulls his mask to his face, and departs.

Hoseok is on the upswing to sobriety, but still intoxicated enough to consider slipping away and trying to leave with Yoongi. He curses himself and begins to help staff clean up, gathering empty glasses onto one table so it is easier for them to place them into a tub and take them downstairs. Then he begins the process of saying his goodbyes, thanking everyone who remains. 

Jimin, Taehyung, and Jeongguk grind in the far corner while Sunmi and her partner giggle and kiss, and Hoseok sighs. He feels lonely. 

"Gonna head home," he says as he approaches the group.

Jimin whines, but Taehyung and Jeongguk nod in agreement. The walk down and out through the club is convoluted; the entire space has become a dancefloor. 

Once outside, Hoseok hugs himself and leads the way toward their apartments. Arms wrap around his waist, and he is glad when he looks down and sees mesh-covered tattoos. 

"Birthday baby," he mutters, closing his eyes momentarily while wrapping his arms around Jeongguk's arms. "Sorry your night became my night."

Jeongguk giggles a sweet, drunken sound and rests his chin on Hoseok's shoulder. "Bullshit," he grumbles. "I have a birthday every year. You deserve to be celebrated, too."

"We all do," Hoseok says, and Jeongguk hums. "That's why you're coming with me to Paris."

He expects Jeongguk to put up a fuss, and is glad when he says, "Okay."

Once they are home, Taehyung suggests a sleepover and Hoseok agrees. They all pile into Taehyung's unit, which is identical to Hoseok's in size and shape, but covered in artwork, books, and clothing. They peel out of their outfits and pile into the shower, alternating standing below the water and shivering. Then they towel off and head to bed nude, with Jimin and Jeongguk kissing and giggling while Taehyung curls up to Hoseok's back and drapes his limbs over him. 

"I needed this," Hoseok says with a sigh, smiling. 

Taehyung places a kiss on Hoseok's neck and says, "I know."

Hoseok is certain that nonsexual affection from Taehyung is a quick way to cure his depression and the secret to his clear skin. In a matter of minutes, he is worry-free and asleep.

* * *

The bed is full when Hoseok wakes, but Taehyung has rolled over and draped himself over the other two. Hoseok rolls onto his back and stretches, causing a ripple effect to take place as the others begin to stir. 

The dredges of a dream remain in place, and Hoseok plays the scene over in his mind. Yoongi on his large desk – larger in his dream – naked, with his wrists bound. He is sobbing and drooling around Hoseok's cock while Hoseok thrusts far too rough for a human throat to withstand. Hoseok lowers his hands to his erection, attempting to cover it as he sits up and gets out of bed. 

"Too early," Jimin groans, and Hoseok hums in agreement. Even with all the water he drank last night, his head aches.

Hoseok grabs Jeongguk's phone before finding his own, and squints to see that he has 2% of his battery left. Unsure which strewn clothing on the floor is the clothing he wore last night, Hoseok finds a pair of silver basketball shorts and a long white tee, and he slinks into them before returning to the bed, kissing his boys on the face, and heading home. 

He cannot shake his dream, and he is glad his phone is nearly dead because he wants to call Yoongi. The moment he is safe in the confines of his apartment, he sets his phone down onto its charging dock, settles into his favorite spot on the couch, and touches himself. 

Hoseok thinks about the dream, but he also thinks about Yoongi bathed in purple light, Yoongi clinging to his bedroom wall, Yoongi kneeling on the floor with his tongue covered in cum. He does not take his time, twisting his palm over the tip of his cock in a way that practically begs his orgasm to come quickly. 

At the thought of picking Yoongi up and pressing him against the wall, legs draped over his hips while he sinks his cock in deep, Hoseok cums, moaning unabashedly as his release coats his hand and drips onto Taehyung's shorts. He breathes heavily, resting his head back as he continues to imagine Yoongi's deep voice moaning his name. 

When his phone rings, shining the name Min Asshole in bright white letters, Hoseok practically screams. He is hungover enough to fear that somehow Yoongi knows what he just did and now he is calling to reprimand him. 

Cum drips from Hoseok's hand and he glances around for a tissue or towel before wiping his mess onto the leg of his stolen shorts and reaching for his phone. 

"Were your ears itching?" he asks as he answers. 

There is a pause, then Yoongi says, "Huh? Were you talking about me?" in a rough, groggy tone.

Hoseok grins as he says, "Hmm, not quite," and when Yoongi begins to inquire more, he says, "That's not important. What can I do for you?"

Again, there is a pause, and then Yoongi says, "Sorry for bothering you on this fine Sunday morning. Seokjin-hyung is inviting the two of us to join him for dinner tonight."

Hoseok frowns. "Why didn't the goon call me, himself?"

Yoongi sighs. "Yes or no, Hoseok. Will you be there?"

With an eye roll, Hoseok says, "Wouldn't miss it," then hangs up before Yoongi can say anything more.  

"Fuck," he mutters under his breath, still dizzy from everything that has transpired. He stands and makes his way into the kitchen, walking in circles. "Fuck, shit, fuck, I have to see him again." 

He has no idea what he is doing in the kitchen, and instead returns to the living room, circling his couch, the table, and the couch again before plopping down and closing his eyes. 

He is going to need to dress to impress. But first, he needs to sleep a little longer. 

*

+

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hello, my lovelies. you may have noticed that this fic is not over. 😅😅😅 i intended on finishing at part 4, but then got to 20k with these two still bickering, so i decided it needed one more part. i hope you are willing to wait a bit longer for the conclusion!!! please don't hate me for how nasty Yoongi was hahaha. these two are truly the worst parts of me, ngl.

MORE COMING SOON!!! COMMENTS & REBLOGS WILL MAKE ME WANT TO WORK ON IT FASTER! LIKES ARE ALWAYS SO SO APPRECIATED!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING AND FOR YOUR PATINCE WHENEVER I DISAPPEAR!!! I LOVE YOU!!!!!

tag list will be in a reblog. 📸 want to be added to the tag list for the final chapter? or to all of my tag lists?? or just mxm tag lists??? dm me!

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