#a lot of fics lean into this idea of his endless optimism driving him to think that things could really go his way if he tried hard enough

[nopeferatu]

i wish brokeback mountain fics entertained the idea that jack knocked lureen up and thats why they got married more often

cause in the short story jack mentions the fact that he'd never wanted kids or anything like that, so i think its highly plausible that bad luck jack, whos life never seems to go the way he wants it to, would fool around with some rodeo queen one night and he winds up getting her pregnant. and what else can he do but marry her? he's been taught to do the respectable thing, and her daddy would probably find and gut him if he sullied his little girl's reputation and left her to deal w it on her own anyways.

but i just think it would add an extra layer of sadness to it all...the idea that jack, whos pretty much only interested in men, probably only messed around with lureen because he was pent up and lonely and sexually frustrated, and heres this beautiful, rich rodeo cowgirl whos giving this poor ranch boy the eyes and making him feel wanted for once in his sorry godamn life. making him feel like someone sees something worthwhile about him. he doesn't prefer a woman, but he's desperate, and she chose him. she could've had her pick of the bar because shes a big deal and any man would've been lucky to have her, but she chose him.

and now this thing—that was supposed to just be a quick fuck in the backseat of her car to help quell the need for human contact until the next motel cowboy came along—is going to define his entire life.

hes going to do right by her and get married. shes going to have his kid. hes going to be a dad.

his whole life has been laid out before him and the one time he said fuck it and had sex with a woman is all it took for everything to be set in stone. its just so. fucking. sad.

[joheun-saram]

otsukare sama deshita (sope)

Summary- Hoseok knows the perfect partner for his new song, but will Yoongi agree?

word count- 1.6k

pairing- Hoseok x Yoongi (platonic)

rating- G

genre- friendship, fluff, slight angst (not really)

warnings- none

a.n- HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAN!!! 🥳 I wrote this as a birthday present for @eternalseokjin but in typical mars fashion, i was late. I hope you enjoy my first mxm fic. this is my take on how hobi convinced yoongi to perform with him. when i floated this idea on the net people thought it was gonna be a crack fic, but honestly i think yoongi respects hobi too much to protest a lot lol

A huge shoutout to @hoebii​ and @hobisbeautifulass​ for beta reading this! 💕

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

perm taglist- @cheesecakes-randomshitz, @aroseforyoongi

-

Hoseok was excited. In fact, he was beyond excited. He had spent the Japanese tour leg writing a song that he felt was the perfect mix of goofy and talent, if he could say so himself. A cheerful, optimistic song that portrayed his J-Hope persona to a T. He knew it wasn’t going to go in any of the albums; he had told his fellow co-writers in Japan as much, but he just knew that ARMY would love it as soon as he unveiled it. The only thing that would make it better would be if he could get a certain friend of his to join in on the antics. A certain grumpy friend that sat across from him zoning out as he sipped his iced Americano, even though it was close to 10pm.

“Hyung, can I run something by you?” Hosoek asked, feigning an air of nonchalance, as he rolled his chair closer to the couch Yoongi was sprawled on. He rested his feet against the cushions, leaning back against the chair, his fingers drumming against the arm rests. He didn’t want to admit it but he was a little nervous. Chances were that Yoongi would agree to his proposition; he was usually very easy going and enjoyed the fanservice that they partook in. However, lately Yoongi had been pretty stressed, short tempered and tired, snapping at everyone. He hadn’t shared why, but Hoseok felt it was something personal that he didn’t want to pry on. 

Hoseok’s voice broke Yoongi out of his thoughts as he looked up to the brightly dressed man in front of him. He mirrored the frown on Hoseok’s face as he hummed for him to continue. Yoongi would never admit it, but he was in no mood for a conversation; his head running through the overwhelmingly long to-do list he had to accomplish before the end of tomorrow. The longer he looked at Hoseok sitting in silence, the deeper his frown got. What was he so fidgety for? It was putting him on edge, not to mention adding to his stress.

“Spit it out, Hobah,” he snapped, sighing a little in frustration as Hoseok cleared his throat tentatively. 

“Well… I wrote this song. I was wondering if you wanted to perform together.” That’s it? Hoseok just wanted to perform a song together? What was the big deal about that?

“Yeah okay. Sure,” Yoongi acquiesced easily, much to Hoseok’s surprise. Hoseok’s face broke into a large grin, one that brought a small smile on the older rapper’s face. 

“Promise?” Hoseok asked, almost bouncing excitedly. Yoongi furrowed his brows suspiciously, knowing that there was no way he was this giddy about a simple duet. Something had to be up.

“You’re making me rethink this…” Yoongi said as he looked over the rim of the plastic coffee cup in his hand, missing his mouth with the straw before capturing it with his lips with a huff and an eye roll. Hoseok chuckled at the action before continuing.

“Oh come on! It’ll be fun! I can just imagine ARMY’s excitement! A Sope unit song!” Hoseok radiated enthusiasm, lifting Yoongi’s spirits as well as the corners of his mouth. He really was a ball of energy sometimes, his excitement almost contagious as he never failed to energize Yoongi, even when all he wanted to do was crawl in bed and sleep his life away.

“Fine. Let me hear it first,” Yoongi said with a snicker, eager to hear the masterpiece his friend had created. He couldn’t help shaking his head with a smile as Hoseok excitedly stood up, almost hopping to the computer to play the track. Yoongi smiled as the track played, habitually fidgeting with his lip in concentration.

To say it was different than any of the songs Hoseok had penned before was an understatement. Yoongi expected vibrant beats and spunky lyrics like the tracks Hoseok had consulted with him on for his future mixtape but this song was a rollercoaster, a tongue-in-cheek trot song of optimism. He smiled as the track played on, Hoseok’s cheerful vocals a perfect fit for the atmosphere it created. As the chorus played again, Yoongi couldn’t help but sing along to the catchy words under his breath. An action not missed by Hoseok, whose smile only got wider.

As the song came to an end, Yoongi felt his mood lightened, the song already stuck in his head. Hoseok hadn’t written many songs alone before and he felt proud of his friend’s accomplishment. “It’s good. Good job, Hoseok!” Yoongi complimented, a gummy smile on his face.

“Thanks!” Hoseok sang out, his smile quickly replaced by his professional straight face as he continued on with the details of the collaboration, which part Yoongi would sing and the vibe he would add. Yoongi found himself easily agreeing with him. He could do with a fun project, and to be completely honest he was ready to record it as soon as the month was over. However, this thought was brought to a screeching halt as the next words left Hoseok’s lips. 

“So I was thinking we reveal it at the Japan fan meeting.” Yoongi’s eyes widened at the comment. *Was he serious?

“The one in two weeks?” Yoongi’s momentarily forgotten stress was back with full force, and he bit his nail. He had so many things on his plate that adding a song that he would not only have to record, but learn the dance and words to *within the next fortnight made his chest clench uneasily. He always had a hard time saying no to Hoseok but the more he thought about the endless things he had to work through, the easier it became. “Absolutely not.”

“Hyungnim!” Hoseok stretched the syllables cutely in a whine to appeal to his older member. He knew behind all the apathy Yoongi had a soft spot for him and it was not beyond him to use it to his advantage. He jumped from his chair next to Yoongi, an arm around the smaller man’s shoulders as he tried to get him as excited as he was. “The theme to Hwagae Market! We’ll wear cheesy suits and goof around! Come on! It’d be fun!”

Yoongi knew Hoseok was just being his usual self, but he felt slightly suffocated. Shrugging his arm off, Yoongi leaned forward, elbows on knees as he rubbed his face with a groan. He missed the way Hoseok frowned, certain now that something was bothering his friend. Before he could prod for details, Yoongi let out an exasperated sigh.

“I don’t know, Hoseok. Fuck. I’m just so stressed. I don’t know if I can take something else on right now.” Yoongi looked at him, a silent plea hidden in his eyes that made Hoseok’s heart tighten in empathy. He knew all about being overly stressed. It would be a lie to say the life they had chosen was easy and smooth sailing. 

Hoseok always tried to keep a professional distance between his members, not wanting to overwhelm them when they had to spend so much time together by obligation. He always felt he was prying if he asked about their personal lives or struggles, but he also knew that Yoongi never brought up something unless he wanted to share. He just needed a push.

“You wanna talk about it?” Hoseok asked, placing his hand on Yoongi’s knee, trying to coax the rapper into conversation.

“I don’t know…” Yoongi began, but it didn’t take him long to delve into his problems. There was something about Hoseok that always led him to open up without feeling the guilt he sometimes did when sharing his feelings. Although Hoseok was usually loud and energetic, when prompted he was quiet and a great listener. Just looking at his face stoic in concentration made Yoongi feel as if what he was saying truly mattered, regardless if it was a useless rant about work stress that Hoseok himself had. 

It was close to midnight by the time the two had wrapped up their heart to heart, empty beer bottles and half eaten dishes of sundae and tteokbokki cluttering the coffee table in front of them. Hoseok hadn’t expected Yoongi to open up to him the way he did, but he was glad to shoulder his burden with him. There was a reason he was closest with the introverted producer in the group; he seemed to make everything Hoseok said seem important, like it had substance, be it a stupid joke that Yoongi laughed at the loudest, or advice that he could’ve gotten off an Instagram inspiration page. 

By the time they packed to make their way to the dorms, Hoseok felt almost bad for adding to Yoongi’s work load, but the dark haired man would have none of it.

“Nah, Hobi. We’re doing it,” Yoongi said, his voice stern and determined.

“Are you sure?” Hoseok asked, as he climbed into the passenger seat of Yoongi’s car, stuffing his backpack between his legs before strapping on his seatbelt. “It was a random idea. We don’t have to. I can table this song for next year.”

“No. It will be fun. ARMY will love it,” Yoongi replied, placing an arm on the back of Hoseok’s headrest as he turned to reverse out of the parking space, before driving out of the underground lot. “It’s a really good song, Hobi. Proud of you, man.”

Hoseok couldn’t help but chuckle at the earnest praise, feeling instantly shy. He was right though, he realized as he walked off the stage two weeks later, high on adrenaline with a huge grin on his face. His expression was mirrored on Yoongi’s face who clapped him on the back, panting hard.

“Sope des!” Yoongi joked, still laughing at how great the performance went, taking off the shiny sequined coat.

“Sope des!” echoed the rest of the boys cheerfully before rushing towards the stage, as Hoseok laughed putting on the jacket for the next performance.

-

Like this? Check out my other works.

[waveridden]

FIC: eyes closed, eyes low

Bacta gets shotgun because Tryst is driving, which means that Bacta is the go-to navigator. It also, conveniently, means that Leenik and Aava are sitting in the back, and that Bacta and Aava won’t have to sit next to each other. (Campaign road trip AU, 1.9k)

AUcember || title lyric || read on ao3

#

Los Angeles, California:

“No,” Bacta says. “Absolutely not.”

“You don’t have a choice,” Tryst says cheerfully from the driver’s seat. “Your options are to get in the car or to buy a last minute plane ticket from LA to Seattle, and all of us know what you’re going to do.”

“It’s going to be fun,” Leenik adds, with lethal amounts of blind optimism. Or maybe it’s completely knowing, completely forced optimism. It’s hard to tell with him sometimes.

Aava, from the backseat, isn’t looking at Bacta. “You could’ve warned us,” she says, voice tight. It’s not often that Bacta has a conversation with her where she isn’t upset about something or other - upset with him, normally - but this on seems different. He doesn’t know that he’s ever seen her upset with Leenik or Tryst.

“We didn’t have a lot of choices. We actually still don’t.” Tryst looks at Bacta, eyes wide. “I’ll let you sit shotgun for this leg.”

He says it like it’s not a given. Bacta gets shotgun because Tryst is driving, which means that Bacta is the go-to navigator. It also, conveniently, means that Leenik and Aava are sitting in the back, and that Bacta and Aava won’t have to sit next to each other. He has to hand it to Tryst and Leenik: they clearly planned this out.

Leenik leans out the window. “Come on,” he says cajolingly, the way he talks to Tony. “We gotta go! You know you want to get in the car.”

Bacta sighs. “If it weren’t Grizelle’s wedding-”

“Then neither of us would be here,” Aava finishes. She almost sounds bored, but she’s still looking out the window away from Bacta, and where her arms are folded, her nails are digging into her elbows. “Get in the fucking car. We have a schedule to keep.”

Bacta knows they have a schedule to keep. Bacta made the fucking schedule. Bacta figured out the best route for a three-man road trip from Los Angeles to Seattle, because Grizelle and Lyn want to live where the hipsters live. Bacta has been looking forward to spending a few days with just Tryst and Leenik. He wouldn’t want Aava there under ordinary circumstances, but these circumstances are extraordinary.

“Fine,” Bacta practically spits out, and gets in the fucking car.

Central California:

It turns out that Leenik and Tryst adjusted Bacta’s carefully-coordinated driving schedule, complete with rest stops and plans for taking turns, so that Aava gets turns driving. He can’t decide if he’s furious or impressed, so he settles for not saying anything at all.

Aava takes the second shift driving, and she does so with grace and with silence. Tryst plays the music, because he has very specific taste in driving music and none of the rest of them care half as much as he does. Bacta spends the whole time debating furiously if he wants to text Lyn and complain. Lyn is one of his closest friends, and she’s not fond of Aava either, but she is marrying Aava’s sister. That probably matters for… something.

Leenik pokes Bacta’s shoulder in the middle of an endless, horrible stretch of desert. “Are you still mad?”

“Am I still mad?” Bacta repeats. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Because it’s not fun when you’re mad,” Leenik says plainly. “I know fun isn’t the whole point of this trip, but it’s at least part of it, and it’s not a good time if you’re mad.”

“I’m still mad,” Aava offers from the driver’s seat. Bacta goes to toss her a reflexive glare before realizing that that’s almost definitely going to upset Leenik, so he gets that under control with a monumental effort.

“You’re always mad,” Leenik answers. This is the kind of thing that would get Bacta killed if he said it to Aava, but she just glances at Leenik in the rearview mirror and smiles. Which Bacta shouldn’t be surprised by, but he still somehow is.

Bacta and Aava have never gotten along. It’s just one of those things. Some people click, like Bacta and Grizelle, and they’re still friends even years after Grizelle moved to Seattle. And some people do the opposite of click, and that’s Bacta and Aava. They’ve never been able to be civil with each other, not for lack of trying. Which is difficult, because Aava gets along so well with all the rest of Bacta’s friends. He wants to like her. He wishes he could like her.

“I think Bacta’s mad,” Aava says. Not maliciously. Just casually.

Bacta does not like Aava.

“I’m thrown off balance,” he answers carefully. Leenik is giving him the absolute worst hangdog look that he has ever seen, and it’s horrible, and he feels guilty. Maybe irrationally. “Not mad.”

“Not mad?” Leenik repeats hopefully.

“No,” Bacta says, and he’s really not sure if he’s lying or not. “Not mad.”

Redding, California:

Tryst and Leenik, thankfully, thought far enough ahead that they have two hotel rooms waiting for them. That really should’ve been a tip-off, in retrospect, but Bacta had assumed that it was just Leenik being Leenik. It hadn’t occurred to him that he was being conned or led on or anything like that. And, even more thankfully, Bacta is with Tryst for the night.

As soon as they reach their hotel room, Tryst looks at Bacta accusingly. “Would it kill you to be nice to her for once?”

“I am being nice to her!”

“You’re not biting her head off. Barely.”

“That’s nicer than she deserves!”

Tryst’s eyes sharpen. “Bacta.”

Bacta bites back a sigh. For all that he and Aava don’t get along, it’s easy to forget that she and Tryst are really, incredibly close. It’s not just all the sex they have, which Bacta has unfortunately heard all about. It’s something about the way they are as people that means they get along easily. And Bacta might not get along with Aava, but he’s not about to give Tryst shit for having a relationship with her.

“I will try to make polite conversation tomorrow,” Bacta says, which is a blatant and obvious lie that Tryst believes immediately. Bacta doesn’t even feel bad, he’s just relieved that Tryst isn’t questioning him at all.

“Thank you,” Tryst says. “Jesus, was that so hard?”

“Yes,” Bacta says, but he gives up as soon as Tryst glares at him. “I don’t have to like her.”

“You just have to tolerate her. And you’re not.”

Bacta doesn’t bother explaining any of the reasons he doesn’t like Aava, of which there are many. He just nods. “Can we sleep now?”

“Yes, we can sleep now,” Tryst says. “God, what did you think we stopped in the hotel for?”

“For you to yell at me about Aava.”

“That was a convenient side effect more than anything.”

“Convenient for who?”

“Shut up and sleep,” Tryst says, which might be as close as he gets to telling Bacta to take care of himself. Bacta decides to take it that way, at least.

Oregon:

Tryst and Leenik, who are traitors to the cause, call dibs on the backseat after lunch, and fall asleep immediately. And it’s horrible.

Well, it’s fine at first, because Bacta is driving. It’s an easy drive from LA to Seattle: a straight shot up the I-5, only stopping once, plenty of opportunities if they get bored and decide to stop at a beach or something. It was supposed to be a fun trip.

The problem comes about twenty minutes after Bacta realizes the boys are asleep, when Aava says conversationally, “I’d like to clear the air, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Bacta lifts his eyebrows. “Wasn’t aware there was much air to clear.”

“Well, let me start by making my expectations clear. I don’t plan on leaving this conversation your new best friend.”

“I’m not in the market for-”

“Stop trying to one-up me and listen, please,” Aava says, voice clipped.

Bacta sighs. He promised Tryst polite conversation. He can manage a little polite conversation. “What do you want?”

“I want a truce for as long as it takes my sister and your best friend to get married.”

“And how do we define a truce?”

“We don’t talk to each other.”

“That’s what we’re doing already, and it doesn’t feel particularly like a truce.’

“And,” Aava continues patiently, “we don’t complain about each other for the weekend. In private or in public. We are going to act like two perfectly civil, perfectly polite strangers at a cocktail party. So you’re not going to tell anyone that I’m a she-witch or that you hate me or anything like that.”

“And you’re not going to make pointed comments about how much time I spend with Tamlin.” He chances a look over at her, and he’s totally not surprised to see her clenching her jaw. “I am allowed to get along with the kid.”

“He’s not your nephew,” she says tightly.

“Why does that matter so much to you?”

“Because he’s family. He’s my family.”

Bacta snorts. “Right, because we both know that blood is the be-all end-all of family” He checks the rearview mirror. Tryst and Leenik are still fast asleep, Tryst slumped against the window and Leenik slumped against Tryst’s shoulder.

When he looks at Aava again, she’s looking over her shoulder at Tryst and Leenik, eyes soft and face unreadable. “You’d think we’d be able to get it together for them,” she says softly, and Bacta’s heart clenches. He’s had the same thought hundreds of times. He wishes that Tryst and Leenik didn’t have to put up with two of their best friends hating each other.

He takes a deep breath. “I think the truce for the weekend is a good idea. This is Lyn and Grizelle’s weekend, we can’t take anything away from that.”

Aava leans back in her seat, settling in. “I think we have the same priorities here. It’s just a matter of actually following through.”

“I’m going to follow through. But not for you.”

“And I’m not doing this for you,” she agrees. “You know that.”

“I know that,” Bacta echoes. He looks in the mirror again, just to see Tryst and Leenik. They’re his family, more than any of his brothers or cousins. He can put up with someone he doesn’t like for their sake. He has to. “Do you want to… put on music or something?”

“Yes,” Aava says, sounding desperate. “Yes, Christ, I am so tired of Tryst’s fucking music and I don’t know how to tell him that.”

“Here’s the secret,” Bacta says. “You don’t tell him, because then he whines and you have to put up with that.”

“Worth it,” Aava says grimly, and Bacta has to stop himself from laughing. It’s easier to get along with her when he remembers what they have in common. Or, really, who they have in common.

  Seattle, Washington:

Lyn pulls Bacta into a tight hug as soon as he’s out of the car. He squeezes back, because he fucking missed her. “Hi,” he whispers into her ear.

“Hi yourself,” she laughs, breath warm against the side of his face. “Survived in one piece? No casualties?”

Despite himself, he looks over at where he can see Aava and Grizelle hugging, just as tightly. Aava looks more at peace than Bacta has ever seen her.

“No casualties, believe it or not,” Bacta says, and Lyn laughs again, and he grins at the sound. “We all made it okay.”

“Good,” Lyn says warmly. “We’re glad you’re all here.”

“I’m glad we’re all here too,” Bacta says, and he’s surprised by how completely he means it.