#buying these the FUCKING SECOND they go on sale. I MUST HAVE THEM

[colorful-horses]

Hasbro heard about Monster High making a comeback and they came out mad as FUCK with these dolls

#holy FUCK #mlp #mlp g5 #equestria girls #i literally havent been this hyped for a doll line in a long time. maybe ever. fucking look at them #they look amazing #how did we go from g4 eqg dolls to THESE #theyre BEAUTIFUL #srry i said text posts were done but this is pony related so its fine #LOOK AT THEM #the face sculpts and screenings. the different heights. the clothing silohettes. the ARTICULATION #buying these the FUCKING SECOND they go on sale. I MUST HAVE THEM #g5 toyline in general has been pretty disappointing and cheap. these have absolutely blown my expectations out of the WATER #not art #sunny is my favorite. her design is amazing #translating the rainbow hair stripe to be on her shirt instead. fantastic #only question is why is izzy the shortest one when shes the tallest pony? but thats not really a complaint. just an observation #look at izzys cute ass boots. the bunny ears.... #the clothes are arill hasbro quality and will probably be papery and whatever #but im more focused on the actual designs since im just gonna be displaying them and not really touching them

[apolloendymion]

ok! i think tumblr ate my fucking apple cider recipe post. still, my autumn equinox tradition must carry on!

Apollo's Foolproof From-Scratch Apple Cider That Was So Good It Allegedly Landed Me A Boyfriend

you will need:

12 apples (the variety is up to you, i usually do half granny smith and half whatever's on sale plus a red delicious for garnishing)

10oz raisins

cinnamon sticks, whole cloves, star anise, nutmeg, allspice, cardamom pods, any other warming spices u like (whole > ground) (follow ur heart on the amounts, it's like garlic just throw so much in there. just go wild)

1 orange

brown sugar (i don't have measurements but be prepared to use a LOT lmao, i always buy at least one 32oz bag. you'll be sweetening to taste.)

large pot with lid

potato masher (optional)

two large bowls/pots/receptacles to strain the cider into

fine mesh strainer

cheesecloth or coffee filters (optional)

apple corer or knife

citrus zester

slotted spoon or ladle

the steps:

1. scrub apples gently under hot water to remove grocery store wax coating. core apples making sure all seeds & stems are removed. add apples, raisins, and mulling spices to pot with enough water to fully cover ingredients, and bring to boil. reduce heat, cover, and simmer for 1 hour.

2. scrub orange to remove wax. zest and juice, avoiding the pith & seeds. use a potato masher or other utensil to lightly mash boiled apple mixture so every apple slice is at least partially broken up, then add the zest & juice to the pot. bring back to boil, reduce heat, cover, and simmer for another hour. then turn off the heat and allow mixture to cool.

3. place two mesh strainers over two bowls or pots (and cover each with a cheesecloth or coffee filters, if you have them). with a slotted spoon or ladle, remove as much of the solids from the pot as you can and place them in one strainer (the larger one, if they are different sizes) to drain, then press out as much liquid into the cheesecloth as possible.

4. pour the cider from the simmer pot into the second cheesecloth and press. combine the liquid from both bowls.

5. add brown sugar to taste

cooking tips:

the times listed above are bare minimums. once all the ingredients are in the pot (minus sugar!) you can simmer as long as you want, so long as someone's nearby to supervise.

always add any sweeteners after the cooking process. otherwise, they'll burn and make the whole thing bitter.

if it's too acidic, add baking soda or more spices. if it's not acidic enough, add lemon juice, additional orange juice, or apple cider vinegar.

variations:

add 12oz fresh cranberries to the first step

sub oranges for lemons or apple cider vinegar

sub brown sugar for straight molasses, maple syrup, or alternative sweetener of your choice (I'd imagine fig or other fruit-based sweeteners would work best)

report back to me if you try something new!! i want to hear how it turned out!

serving suggestions:

add three or four cinnamon imperials (red hots) to your mug, along with a dash of fireball whiskey if you're so inclined. i cannot stress enough how fucking amazing this tastes.

garnish with apple slices, orange slices, cinnamon sticks, and/or star anise

if you have dairy-free ice cream on hand, pour some cider over a scoop. you can use dairy ice cream, but it's more likely to curdle.

freeze some in an ice cube tray, then blend with some non-frozen cider for a slushie

ok I've never tried this, but i bet blending with pumpkin puree would slap. PLEASE tell me if you try it

this makes a metric fuckload of cider, which is very rich and can be watered down considerably (seriously). share with your friends and/or freeze some to last the season (or halve it, i guess, but that's no fun :P)

#mabon #autumn equinox #fall equinox #apple cider #recipe #autumn recipes #fall recipes #from scratch #easy recipes #apollo's recipes

[jiskblr]

A Non-Locavore's Guide to Proper Apple Cider

Apple cider is a bizarre thing, in that it is only legal to buy it from the people who grew the apples and pressed them themselves.

You may say "Jisk, I see apple cider in the supermarket right here!", and I am here to tell you that the supermarket is full of profane lies.

I am not talking about hard cider (alcoholic), which does not taste like apples and thus is sorta lies, but a perfectly respectable beverage for those who like their alcohol beer-like but non-beer, which I do not. And that's all I'm going to say about hard cider.

No, I'm talking about this.

This substance is made by the archdevil Geryon, lord of deceits and heresies, in his orchard of snakes and lies, in order to convince people that apple cider is just pretentious apple juice.

And it works, because supermarket apple cider is just pretentious apple juice. It is cider that has taken behind the woodshed and shot, and its corpse carried around in the style of Weekend At Bernie's, paraded as the real thing. It is not the real thing.

This is the real thing:

This is Smit Farms cider, made from apples grown in Smit Farms orchards and pressed in mechanical presses owned by Smit Farms, hosted on the premises owned by Smit Farms and probably on the orchard grounds itself, then bottled by Smit Farms, also on the premises of Smit Farms. This cider is then sold either at their shop next to the Smit Farms orchard (fairly inaccessible) or at a Smit Farms booth in a range of farmstands within driving distance (in this case, mostly or totally in California), one of which is where I buy it. This is the good stuff.

The fact that it is from Smit Farms specifically is irrelevant, but other than replacing the name 'Smit Farms' with something else like 'Derby Orchards' or 'Oxford University Gardens', the good stuff all fits that precise description. To do otherwise is illegal. (At least in the US of A. It seems to be rare in other countries too, and I don't know for sure.)

The core problem is pasteurization. Pasteurization turns cider into apple juice. If you're careful about it and do the lowest temperature allowed for a brief burst of heat (flash pasteurization), you'll keep the ghost of the flavor of proper cider. But only a ghost of it.

And you are legally required to pasteurize cider before sale, unless you are a farm doing farm things to your farm products on your farm premises, which gets you an exemption from a great many United States laws, this being one of them. And so, if you wish to drink good cider, you must be a locavore for the day you do the shopping.

And it's so fucking worth it. I promise you. You know how they say that compared to real beer, Budweiser is 'fucking close to water'? Apple juice is the Bud Lite of cider. Real cider has the same relationship to it that Guinness has to Bud. Everyone should try it.

Now, I will admit it has drawbacks.

The first one is that it's usually unfiltered, and filtering it does actually make it worse. So you need to shake the bottle around a bit before pouring. It's much less intrusive than citrus pulp, though.

The second is that if you leave it in the fridge for a month it will have gone very slightly alcoholic. (I don't know what ABV.) This does have a solution - cider freezes well. Leave it in the freezer for a year if need be, then melt it over a day on the counter and stick it back in the fridge.

QUESTIONS YOU MAY HAVE FOR THE CIDER SNOB

"Jisk, how can I tell if the cider is the good stuff?"

Unfortunately, you will usually have to ask, and the answer will often be 'it isn't' even if you're at an orchard. Check if the label says 'pasteurized' in any form - if so it is the knockoff type. If you don't see that, the question you want to ask is "Do you press and bottle it yourself?"; if the answer is yes, they will almost certainly know, and only if the answer is yes is it the good stuff. You can also ask "Is it pasteurized?", and this may appear on the label, but there are weaselly ways to say it's not when it is and well-intentioned people can be honestly wrong about this being good enough.

"Should I get the good stuff for cooking with?"

It is almost certainly not worth it. You'll mostly denature it in cooking and that will remove most of the flavor benefits. For this I would go with supermarket cider or somewhat boiled-down boring apple juice. Some recipes may benefit but that's beyond my cooking skill to predict.

"Should I get the good stuff for mulling?"

Personally I cannot tell the difference once it is mulled. If the effort and money to get the good stuff are cheap for you, go ahead, it's probably slightly better, but it will not be a groundshaking improvement. Same goes for anything you're spicing heavily even without heat.

"Okay, I see where you're going, here. Is it a waste to heat up the good stuff?"

Absolutely not. Go for it! A simple mug of cider, heated up in the microwave, is a wonderful thing in a way apple juice is not.

"How about cocktails?"

I have limited experience here but I think it is usually a noticeable, significant improvement, but not always. My family favors the Suicider, which has some nutmeg, a large spike of dark rum, and the heart of a bad pun. On the other hand, something like a mule where you are mixing several strong flavors may overwhelm the difference. Use your best judgment, and if you do a taste test please tag me or send me an ask, because I'm curious.

"Why is the good stuff so rare, if it's so much better?"

The process is time-consuming and effortful, it's either hard to scale on an orchard's budget or hard to scale without incurring the wrath of the regulators, and the margins aren't great. I pay $20 for a gallon and a half and I'd probably pay twice that, but I am a snob; most people aren't and wouldn't.

In my hometown, there were six pick-your-own apple orchards, all of which sold cider in their attached store. Of these, only one, the aforementioned Derby Farms, sold the good stuff - this was a local secret, not available to the tourists who came out from Boston. The others had mechanical presses available, but pressing cider is slow, exhausting work and the margins aren't great, so they paid someone else to press it and bottle it, which meant that the pasteurization requirement came in. Even Derby's has ceased to make the good stuff, as they are getting old and didn't have the manpower in the proper season anymore. This is a tragedy but kind of inevitable.

"Why are you writing this?"

Because I think a lot of people would be snobs if they experienced the difference, and the only way to fix aforesaid tragedy is to make the margins better by increasing demand.

#the tagline of the hard cider was “made strong in the fine tradition of making things strong” #I never remember the brand but I will remember that tagline until I die #apple cider #apple snob #cider snob #mulled cider #that one's just attention-whoring the tags NGL #I have only vague notions of what Weekend At Bernie's contains but I think this is correct use of it

[zeldahime]

Highway to Pail Day 23

[Day 1] [Prev] [Next] @do-it-with-style-events

February 23: Bitter coffee.

Set. Pull. Pour.

Don't think about Lindsey.

Set. Pull. Pour.

Don't check your phone; you already know what's in those texts and you have to get through the rest of the day.

Set. Pull. Pour.

Is it four yet? Can't start closing up til four. (Maybe we'll get some of those mid-afternoon business types, then. Stay open til six, rake in a few more sales.)

"Give me death," a joker tells Rhiannon for the fifteenth time today, and you want to pour this espresso over his head. No, waste of good coffee; you want to pour the pot of decaf over his head.

Set. Pull. Pour.

Running through oat milk faster than you did last month, seems like. Gonna have to pick some up from the shops to get through to the next delivery. Is it worth a trip to the restaurant supply on Shaftesbury?

Set. Pull. Pour.

No, god, if you have to go all the way over to Saftesbury you'll be a full half-hour. Lindsey'll go mental.

Lindsey's already going mental though, if the buzzing in your pocket is anything to go by. Might as well.

Set. Pull. Pour.

Certainly isn't four yet but it must be getting on to eleven, and haven't seen hide nor hair of Stevie yet have you? If they're late again you'll have to be big mean boss lady, and it's not like that's not what you are anyway, but you really do need someone 'round in the afternoons who shows up when they're supposed to. Rhi needs to go eat while it's slow and you need a second pair of hands at the bar during the lunch rush.

Set. Pull. Pour.

Skinny latte—oh! From across the road. She always seems to be having a hard time of it lately, poor lamb. Nobody really buys records anymore, do they, not since CDs were invented anyway. Wonder how she's managed to stay in business so long....

Set. Pull. Pour.

There's Stevie, thank god, maybe Rhi can get a bite before the lunch crowd starts in earnest.

"Just set your bag behind the bar and get on the register, we'll figure out your clock later. Rhiannon, food, insulin, go." Rhi looks relieved. It must be even later than you thought.

Set. Pull. Pour.

Just check the time. All you have to look at is the time. Don't worry about the notifications. You don't have to look at those. Just the time. You can check the time without thinking about—fuck, Lindsey's pissed.

And it's 11:13. Stevie's almost an hour late. You should've called them forty minutes ago.

Set. Pull. Pour.

And you didn't have to check the time, because in comes Mr Fell, 11:15 for his tea and biscuits. You could set your watch by Mr Fell's tea and biscuits, though not by anything else about him. Weirdest opening hours you've ever seen. You grabbed the new white peony tea, just came in from that bloke in Chiswick, and set it by the register for Stevie to show Fell.

Set. Pull. Pour.

Lindsey should know better than to think you've got any interest in that Chiswick guy. Right? You don't even like tea. Chiswick isn't your type. There's no way that conversation on the phone was flirtatious. It was all business. It was about tea vending for Christ's sake. Lindsey's got to be reading into things.

Set. Pull. Pour.

....Right?

Author's note: It was so hard not using any pronouns for Lindsey! I had to keep reworking sentences to make sure it didn't read too awkwardly. This is also my first time writing in 2nd person in a very long time. I think I'm happy with that decision; it helps the stream-of-consciousness feeling.

#my writing #do it with style events #highway to pail #good omens #good omens fanfiction #nina good omens

[raccoonhearteyes]

Part I  | Part II  | Part III | Part IV  | Part V | Part VI

September 25th, 2018

In August, Clarke painted the best piece she’s ever done.  She remembers painting it, but doesn’t remember the model, and it’s driving her insane. Everytime she looks at it she is filled with pride, but her stomach also swoops and she can’t figure out why. It has been over a month, and she’s still not sure what she’s missing. How can she not remember the muse for her best piece? 

After a month of stewing on the piece, torn between keeping it forever and bringing it to the FBI to track down the girl, she settles for something in between. She wraps it safely with five layers of palette wrap and brings it to the gallery where she works. 

After sending a picture to her boss, Indra, she agreed there may be a spot in the gallery for Clarke to hang it and make a sale. 

Interest started off slow, and Clarke worried that it wasn’t as good as she thought it was. But then Indra suggested they offer an exclusive one month auction for it. A list was placed next to the piece along with a starting bid that alone would cover Clarke’s expenses for a month. She was ecstatic. But as the month crept by, Clarke has painstakingly watched the buyer interest list grow. 

It sold on September 20th. For $10,000 dollars. That pays nearly six months of Clarke's rent. One painting. Six months rent. This painting is single handedly taking care of her for the foreseeable future. And she doesn’t even know who this painting is. No matter how desperately her mind tries to search for a face, a name, the session, she draws a blank. But it is so much money that the troubling nature of a forgotten model is overshadowed.

She briefly considers getting it all in singles and buying a kiddie pool so she can swim around in it, but instead decides to commemorate it differently.  She asks Indra if she could keep the auction list. Of course she can’t keep the piece itself-- that defeats the purpose of selling it-- but she thinks framing the auction list is a close second. There are 37 bids on it. 37 people walked into the gallery, saw her piece on the wall, and thought it was worth buying. 

She flips through the list, seeing how much each bid increased by, who these potential clients could be. She sees the name Lindsey Waldorf written in big swooping cursive as the second bid. And then again as the eighth. The same swooping handwriting LW is written again as the eighteenth and the twenty-fourth bid. Clarke was pretty sure she spoke to almost everyone who came in and looked at that piece. Why can’t she remember that name? Why can’t she put a face to it? She was in the gallery four times to look at it. Surely Clarke couldn’t have missed her every time. Could she? It’s a name she tries to remember. If she bid for the painting four times, she must have liked it enough that maybe she’d buy a different piece of hers. Prove that this isn’t just a fluke of a sale, that this is a career, and she can do it. 

----------

Clarke’s friends decide they have to celebrate her big sale. They insist on going to a club, getting absolutely wasted, and making Clarke pay for all the drinks. She did just make ten thousand dollars so Clarke is hard pressed to say no to blowing off a little steam. 

It’s almost midnight when she sees her. She’s nursing a drink at the bar, but Clarke keeps catching her eyes. Her eyes. Her eyes. Her eyes. They’re taunting, absolutely mesmerizing in the way that a forest hides a plethora of treasures. They are taunting Clarke, dancing in the light of strobe light, twinkling with laughter watching her dance with Raven and Octavia. 

Even though Clarke is dancing with Raven and Octavia, her eyes stay trained on the stranger at the bar. 

“Clarke!” “Earth to Clarke!” Her friends yell at her. 

“Huh?” Clarke responds dumbly. 

“You have been eye fucking that girl for nearly an hour. Go talk to her.” 

Clarke musters up the courage to go over, buying a round of shots first. Emboldened with a shot for each of them, Clarke slides onto the stool next to the girl and pushes a shot over to her. 

“What are we celebrating?”

“My first big sale of a painting.” 

“You’re an artist?”

“I dabble.” 

“To your artistic success, then,” the girl says, raising her shot to clink with Clarke’s before downing it with a hiss and a shake of her head. 

“Shouldn’t you get back to your friends?” The girl nods over to where Octavia and Raven are now drunkenly grinding on each other on the dancefloor. 

“Who, them? Let’s just say they’re encouraging me to make new friends tonight.”

“Get it, Clarke!” Raven yells from the dance floor, and Clarke buries her face in her hands in embarrassment. 

“Ah,” the girl chuckles into her glass. 

“Could I convince you to spend a song with me?”

She smiles, and Clarke’s heart flutters in her chest. Clarke leads her to the dancefloor and spins to face her. The dance floor is a blur of bodies and sweat. The music thunders the base so loudly, Clarke can feel it in her chest, and she watches the girl’s hips move so fluidly she’s not entirely convinced the music isn’t made by her movements and not the other way around.  

She said her name was Val. It doesn’t seem to fit her in Clarke’s opinion, but she’s too caught up in the sway of hips and the tight T-shirt to really argue. The girl pulls her closer, trying to talk over loud speakers. It’s too deafeningly loud to make anything she says out. Instead, Clarke just focuses on the feeling of a soft hand coming up to her face, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Clarke pulls her in by the loops of her belt, matching the girl’s rhythm. Clarke feels the sensual power of hips as they glide with the beat. The girl is completely driven by the music, and Clarke gives herself over to it too. 

The song switches, and Clarke is dreading letting her go, but instead of ducking out after a dance, the girl pulls Clarke's hand up and around her neck. They catch each other's eyes while Clarke bites her lip and smiles. The girl presses their heads together and it grows intense again. They’re both breathing hard, practically sharing the same breath with how close they’re pressed together, but Clarke doesn't want to be anywhere other than in this intoxicating stranger’s arms. This stranger who feels like she knows everything about Clarke's body while moving together. Clarke has a vague inkling that her friends might be waiting for her to come back. Fuck it. She’s content right here, right now, focused on this girl. 

It gets a little intense, Clarke can feel the moment building but wants to stretch it out. Wants to stretch this anticipation even longer. That’s always been the best part of a first kiss.  So when Val dips her chin to kiss her, she spins. Presses her back against Val’s chest, feels her groan as her ass settles against her hips. It all feels new and exciting but strangely comforting. Familiar. Hands on hips guide her, trace her thighs and belly, move to grab her own hands and link their fiingers together as they sway. It feels... intimate. More than it should. But Clarke welcomes it. Then Val noses her hair aside, maybe drops a kiss to her neck and nuzzles closer. Then whispers in her ear, "Do you want to get out of here?" 

“God, yes.” Clarke’s almost ashamed at how needy her voice comes out, how quickly she signals to her friends that she’s leaving. But she looks into forest green eyes that are so dark they’re almost black and realizes, maybe she’s not the only one as affected by their connection. 

“I only live a few blocks away,” Clarke admits, making it very clear where she wants this night to go. 

The walk back to Clarke’s apartment is full of heated looks. They don’t stop touching the entire way, whether it’s entwined fingers, an arm slung around shoulders, or tucked into a back pocket. By the time Clarke opens her front door, she’s aching with need. She barely has time to enter the apartment before she finds herself pressed against her own front door. One of them lets out a low groan. Clarke’s not entirely sure it wasn’t her, but things escalate from there. Her jacket is tossed to the floor along with Val’s t-shirt. 

Clarke feels a tongue glide against her bottom lip and opens to meet it against full pouty lips, when she’s suddenly kissing at air. 

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have ambushed you like that.”

“I was very into it. No need to apologize,” Clarke responds, suddenly cold without her jacket and the weight and warmth of another person against her. 

“I just…We’re both pretty drunk. I want to make sure you want this.” She looks nervous, and Clarke steps forward to reassure, “I am more shots than I can count in, but I can assure you, this is exactly what I want.” 

Clarke cups a strong jawline and leans back in to kiss. It’s chaste and sweet, “But if it makes you feel better, we can have some water, sober up a little bit, and then return to this.”

She nods, and Clarke brings her into her tiny kitchen to get them each a glass of water. 

“So, you mentioned you made a big sale?”

“My first official painting sale,” Clarke responds in triumph. 

“What was it of?” 

“Want to see a picture?” Clarke pulls out her phone to get a photo of it. Clarke watches the girl’s eyes roam over the screen, asking if she can hold the phone to zoom in on different areas. She looks enthralled and Clarke’s chest puffs with pride. She smiles at the small birthmark painted on the right hip, and Clarke’s starts to talk about how she likes to add small details like that to make it more personal. While the piece doesn’t give away who the model is by face, the imperfect splotch is a fingerprint in and of itself. 

Val takes a deep breath before returning Clarke’s phone, “It’s beautiful. Was it hard to let go of the painting?” 

“I know that’s the whole point-- selling your art to avoid the whole starving artist thing, but still. It’s hard. Letting go of the painting. I miss it every day.”

“She must have been someone special.” 

“It’s interesting, actually. Every portrait I’ve done, my best work, is always someone real. Friends. Family. A stranger who sat for me. I remember all of them. But I cannot for the life of me remember who she was.”

“Maybe you dreamed of her.” 

“Maybe. I’ve never been one who remembers my dreams though. You remind me of the painting, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I think so. You just have the same energy as that painting. I’d look at it and I'd get this warm, soft feeling. I don’t remember who she was, but I remember that feeling. Maybe I should have included her face…”

A deep blush rises on sharp cheekbones, and Clarke smiles then continues, “She was also naked and insanely hot, as evidenced by this,” she says gesturing to the erotic pose of the model, “and if I’ve proven my sobriety to you at this point, I’d really like to get to the point where you remind me of the painting for that reason too.” 

There were no more words. No need for such things. Not when Clarke was pulled so easily into this girl's orbit. Not when she had a long neck on display and she could be distracted by the way this girl moaned and writhed when it was kissed. Not when she slid shorts down to find a familiar shape on her right hip. Not when she had a pretty girl between her own legs drawing patterns with her tongue. Not when she felt the bed dip late at night and a quiet re-collection of clothing. That was how Clarke ignored the gnawing feeling of forgetting her muse, and that was a better way to spend her time.

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

Clarke wakes up in tangled sheets and a pounding headache. Her muscles are sore in strange places and she swears if that bird doesn’t shut up, she’s going to shoot it. Nothing should be that chipper in the morning. 

Clarke manages to squint open a single eye and grope the top of the bedside table for her phone. She has 63 unread messages from Octavia and Raven. 

    Raven: Did you get some? 

    Octavia: You told us you were leaving with, and I quote “a goddess”

    Raven: Was she a good lay? 

    Raven: Was she hot?

    Raven: Was she everything you wanted? 

    Raven: Did you fuck her in the bathroom?

    Raven: I am soooooooo drunk. I don’t even remember what she looked like. 

    Raven: Send nudes. 

    Raven: Of her. We’ve both seen your stuff. 

    Octavia: Ray, they’re probably still busy 😏

What are they talking about? Clarke’s pretty sure she would remember going home with a goddess. Although… her sheets are pretty twisted… she is naked… and there’s a glass of water and some ibuprofen on her nightstand that she certainly didn’t have the wherewithal to set out last night. Did she go home with someone? 

She types out a response.

Clarke: I honestly don’t remember anything about last night. 

Someone looking for a quick fuck, who sneaks out before the other person wakes up doesn’t leave water and ibuprofen out for them. Confused, Clarke shrugs on a shirt from the floor and surveys the apartment. No one in her bathroom. No forgotten clothing. She checks a mirror. No hickeys. Then why does she have a delicious soreness in her thighs? Why is her left forearm a bit achey? There are two water glasses sitting on her kitchen counter. What happened last night?

#clexa #lexa #clarke griffin #the invisible life of addie larue #clexa au

[sleepystarnights]

Chapter 1, Part 2

"WHOA!"

Sleepy said as she jumped out of her bench. The dream she was in last night felt like it was real.

"Is it the afternoon already? Well fuck, I better go to the mall before its lunch time for everyone."

As she walked through the streets of Breezenico, there's a hint of fear once she thought that the dream is a warning.

She arrived to the front entrance of the mall. It's name is Sunny Days Mall. Cute name for a mall.

The paintjob is proper and bright and the whole structure feels inviting to people.

"Huh, this place reminds me of Starmistia's Shopping Center. A good and a bad thing."

Sleepy went inside the mall and saw many colorful shops and stalls.

"This mall is so colorful, maybe that's the charm." Sleepy said in awe. "Nows not the time for wandering around, I have to eat some food."

She looked at the map of the mall thats on the center of the place and went straight to the east for the foodcourt.

The foodcourt has a lot of stalls. People are packed in many of them and it's very busy on the tables.

"I'm late, I have to go and find some cheap ones quickly!"

Sleepy jogged to each stall until she encountered a mysterious girl with a brown hat and coat waving at her.

"Hello! You must be new in Breezenico. I'm Sally~" The girl said in a friendly tone. "I'm a food critic from QuickTime! Newcomers of Breezenico get food of your choice paid by me!"

At first, Sleepy didn't believe at what they said. She looked through her phone for the food critic for verification.

After some time, she accepted their request and proceed to look for a place to eat.

They found a bakery with a few customers. It has a sale sign on it and welcoming doors.

"Let's eat here!" Sleepy said "Baked goods are enough."

"Alright then!" Sally agreed.

As they went in to the bakery, a cute frilly theme is all around the place. It feels cute but also regal.

The scent of bread lures them to buy many of their goods. There's one bread in particular Sleepy is most interested in.

"Cranberry bread?!" She screamed. "I want 8 of these!! 4 for me and 4 for this person please!"

"Okay okay!"

Waiting time was fast as there's no customers as of now. Sleepy was sitting on the opposite side, admiring the taste of cranberry bread.

Sally however, picked up a paper bag from the cashier and packed up the remaining cranberry bread. They ran away and never came back.

After the cranberry lover ate all of her bread, she sit at the proper side and looked confused.

"Where's Sally?" She said in confusion. "Did she went to the bathroom... or..."

A waiter arrived at her table and gave her the bill. It was 50 dollars for everything.

"What do I do, I have no money and that food critic left me to the dust." She said in her mind

"This is a sticky situation, let us help you!"

"Wait what, you again but you sound clearer than be-"

"Miss, please pay the am-"

"What are you looking at?" The waiter said in shock.

"Huh, nothing?" Sleepy said.

Her phone was beeping loudly which interrupted the conversation. She checked her phone and received a lot of cash from a mysterious donor on her digital banking app called CashTake.

"Who donated this much money, I haven't even talked to people about my CashTake acc when I was in the stars." She said in her head.

CashTake is the biggest digital banking app for both Sparklers and humans. Donors can always give money to someone with Rubies (Sparkler currency) or dollars.

"Do you... guys accept CashTake?" Sleepy said, fear lingering around her body.

"Yes miss." The waiter politely said, grabbing a qr code sign to scan. "Please scan this and pay."

"Thank you."

★★★♥︎★★★

It was a crazy day for the ex-goddess. A poser making her get into trouble, the whisper getting clearer, and lastly the mysterious donor.

"For a second there, I felt a surge of power inside of me." She said, questioning what happened today.

"Nevermind that, must have been goosebumps."

[afr0-thunder]

[Poor Chronicles Pt. 19]

*BEHIND STARBUCKS EDITION*

Chicken Salad and Water Diet: Day Two! I didn’t drink water yesterday, just went to sleep. I picked up a double, so it was tiring. I wonder every day, “Will I have the energy to walk to/from work on this diet?”. Legs a little tired, but I say, “Yes!”. “Will I get hungry and buy something to eat and start a new diet?” and to that I say, “Well I’m not hungry now, so I don’t think I will.”.

My housemate’s hostility may be stemming from her inability to track my income. Over eating too many packs of fucking noodles? Sounds mildly crackhead-ish, but whatever. I just figured if she never asked, I never asked her about hers and we both did our part every month, there should be no issues. Incorrect. She must assume my income means I’d buy her food randomly like she’s done for me (when I didn’t work for the first couple months). Also incorrect. You’d figure after almost a year of offering more than what’s required, she’d catch on…and I bought snacks. Need to put an end to that too. Possibly her grandson (year older than me) mentioned my Instagram story about how when I got rich I was helping no one. Didn’t say her, but things change. Also, he provoked this mindset to be furthered. Before I worked this job, I was at another job (he runs a business, meets lots of famous people, has them buy things from him, takes pictures of them with it), he asked if I was “still working at that lil pizza place?”. Long story short, I know where I’m headed and gave him business advice that would help him save and even make more money going further (mostly ideas). He went back and forth with me. Said I sounded like my grandfather. Ended up almost rolling his eyes because of how persistent I was with proving my point and said, “You right! You just know everything”…because I don’t own my own business, I guess. I’m just saying a consumer would understand sales better than someone “above” them because we tend to notice things that a producer wouldn’t, as we don’t have to tend to hundreds of others. He just ended with “Okay well let’s see where I’m at in 2 years and where you’re at.” like a competition. I said, “Well seeing as though I haven’t gotten started on my career directly and you are about 10 years in on efforts almost, but more than 5 literally, that would almost be unfair.”.

He says, “3!”.

I say, “I would do 2, but okay we’ll see.”

I quit that job almost a year from today after 2 straight days of hostile arguments with the owner’s husband (my last manager). Almost a year later, I am doing better. Look forward to seeing how year two goes. Probably worse because why would it get better. Someone wants to see me doing bad, so they have to get their wish. It’ll still be great, just not to the average idiot, so “bad”.

I clocked in a few seconds too late, aware this means one of my enemies (I’m their’s) wants me to be late to everything or off timing. Endlessly pissed about being a minute off my OWN schedule, but also give no fuck about what they want.

My head coach mentioned how I worked a lot of hours last week and would probably be thrilled when I checked my pay stub. I didn’t check, nor did I get thrilled.

Today, she and my assistant coach asked when I was going to get a phone, so they could text me if they needed to reach me. I laughed and said, “Never.” (Have been laughing about this since I left work, forgot my exact word/words). I said I have a phone, (2, actually) it just doesn’t have service. I said they could always call the number I have on file (housemate’s). She said, “What if you get a hot date?”. I say, I’ll just have to meet her in person. On my walk home I realized, I still needed a method of contact. I decided not to give Mary my tumblr or Instagram like I first thought and will give her my email, so she doesn’t have to give me her email, in case she thinks I’m crazy (I am). I’ll just tell her that though.

My African American manager got pissed when I was washing lettuce and got him wet. I said, “That’s kind of feminine.”…because girls…get wet. I don’t think he caught on. He said, “You were a male cheerleader! That’s the most feminine sport.”

I said, “MALE cheerleader. Also, it’s soccer. They’re literally called ‘grass fairies’.”.

He said, “Female dominated.”

I said, “Cheerleading was started by males. Also, I could knock everyone on the field, off their field. I gave up football to do cheerleading and it got me through college, plus most of the teams I cheered for sucked. They came to see ME!”.

He shortly after explained this to a female coworker when I said, “First you called me a ‘half nigga’, now I’m a fag.”. She didn’t get the “wet” joke either. She thought it was cool that I was a cheerleader though. I’ve been there for almost a year and just never bring it up.

Savings: $29 > $49

I love being a Chicagoan everyday. This city is so beautiful.

There’s probably more, but I don’t remember it all.

My mother just messaged me…for the 6th time. I wish she would stop. Estranged. Eternally.

In short, craving noodles…hard! My unnamed house type constantly gets new ideas. I miss television, film and social media. This will be my last Starbucks post. I won’t be grocery shopping again, so I’ll move my posts to McDonald’s. I used to love coming home everyday now I hate living in hostility and want to move every single night, but I imagine I’ll have a year or two left here and my current job location (love my job, don’t get shit confused). I will check Week 6 scores next week for the NFL. My African American manager has told like 3 of my coworkers and a manager that I was cheerleader. Starving is not so hard.

- MH (2023)

[10/13/2023 - 6:13PM]

#personal #poor chronicles #poor #poverty #life #lesson #life lesson #life lessons #guidance #struggle #chicago #2023 #LilMark #PUNKAssMark #afr0-thunder

[displacedcreativity]

There’s obviously a lot of chatter going on about Cruella and 101 Dalmatians and ooohhh my god errebody a lot of you don’t know the source material and I really. I really need to share a nut shelled version of the two novels (yes there’s TWO) because it’s absolutely wild from start to finish and it starts out innocent enough and then just escalates from there.  Copy pasting from my twitter thread cause as much as I love this roller coaster I don’t want to type it again HERE WE GO: To start in the original 101 Dalmatians novel, Mr. and Mrs. Dearly have that house because Mr. Dearly never has to pay taxes ever again and was gifted that house because he wiped out the government debt.  They also had two nannies - Nanny Cook and Nanny Butler. Pongo is still there, but the mother of his pups is a dalmatian named Missis.  Perdita is a dalmatian the family took in out of the rain as a 'wet nurse' to help feed the 15 puppies. Perdita apparently means lost. Cruella is also married to a furrier. Because of course.

  Perdita tells Pongo that she HAD puppies, by a dog named Prince, but her owner sold her puppies so she was out looking for them. After the puppies are stolen, and the Twilight bark reveals the location, Pongo and Missis TRY to tell the humans but fail cause they can't say S's.   Pongo and Missis go on the search for the puppies, and Perdita stays behind to watch the Dearly's. When they get to hell hall, there's 97 puppies and Cadpig is a runt and needs to be pulled along in a toy cart supplied by a 2 year old boy in order to escape. When the dogs get back to London, Cruella's PERSIAN CAT who wants revenge for the kittens Cruella drowned, lets them inside the house so the dogs can destroy Cruella's furs.  They return home and it turns out Perdita's puppies were the one's pulling Cadpig, Prince confirms! Since all the puppies were bought and paid for, and not stolen. No one is looking to get them back. Even Perdita's owner sells her to the Dearly's because fuck Perdita I guess smh. Cruella's cat is now HOMELESS because the destruction of the furs has forced Cruella to flee the country and put Hell Hall up for sale so the Dearly's adopt the cat as well. They then buy Hell Hall for their "Dalmatian Dynasty" with money earned by fixing another gov. debt.  They then adopt Prince because they see how much he still loves Perdita and Prince becomes dalmatian 101. TIME FOR BOOK 2. THE STARLIGHT BARKING. They're still living in Hell Hall and the Persian cats are married.  Cadpig now lives with the Prime Minister. Wholesome, right? Happy and cute what could the sequel to 101 Dalmatians possibly entail that's weirder than the first? MY FRIENDS. FAM. BUCKLE UP. The dogs awaken one morning to find out that not a single living thing aside from dogs can wake up. Doors, machines, etc all work on command and the dogs don't need to eat or drink or sleep.  Cadpig is now the acting PRIME MINISTER AND THE DOGS CAN COMMUNICATE VIA THOUGHT WAVES. They soon discover that they can 'swoosh' which is basically hovering over the ground at high speed. So, I mean, flying. They can basically fly. So Pongo and Missis SWOOSH to London with about 50 other dalmatians to meet with PRIME MINISTER CADPIG. But WAIT. Tommy, the kid from the first book, and the farm crew and the Persian cat from the first book are discovered to ALSO be awake because they were dubbed "honorary dogs" after helping the dalmatians in the first book. Because fuck the Dearly's I guess they're just PETS. The Persian cat thinks this is all Cruella's fault somehow so they pull together a team to go to Cruella's home to KILL HER. But she and her husband are both asleep like everyone else. She's now obsessed with metallic plastic and not furs. So they spare her life.  And then! A mysterious voice comes onto the t.v, alerting all dogs that they must all gather tonight by midnight under starlight. The Twilight bark and the TELEPATHY ensures all dogs get this message. Because of course. *INHALES BECAUSE NEXT PART IS A DOOZY.* All the dogs, including the honorary ones are gathered and waiting. Then! At Midnight! Euphoria! The terror! ....... As Sirius, the Lord of the Dog star appears and announces that he's lonely, and he wants to take all the dogs off Earth so they can avoid the future Nuclear War. But the dogs have to come willingly and in the morning he promises that the world will forget dogs every existed so they're not missed. Pongo is tasked with deciding the fate OF EVERY DOG ON EARTH.  Some stray dogs convince Pongo to say no to Sirius, because the decision to go would be unfair to any dog on Earth who is still hoping to find a loving family on Earth.  So Pongo says no, and Siris proud that the dogs are staying so loyal despite the promise of eternal bliss. Sirius lets all the dogs SWOOSH back home and of course they deduce he appeared everywhere in the world at once because he's a star and not bound by. Physics or something. Pongo gives one last message to Sirius saying dogs may leave one day, but for now they like being on Earth. Also in the second book. Lucky has a wife named Gay and they're secretaries to a poodle.  Patch refuses to marry because he doesn't want to pass down his eye spot.  Roly Poly teaches George, a boxer, how to swim and they bond over magical adventures in Paris. I PROMISE YOU nothing Disney makes with 101 Dalmatians can top the source material and honestly they’re cowards for not doing a perfect adaptation or the second book. (Apparently Disney wanted to do more things based on that author’s work when he was alive  and I’m sure he would have had he not died in 1966 since Starlight Barking came out in 1967. Just think, there’s probably a timeline where Starlight Barking is the first Disney animated sequel instead of Rescuers Down Under.)

#cruella #101 dalmatians #pongo

[potter-imagines]

Smoking 🍃 w/ Your Boyfriend Fred Weasley...

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader  Prompt: Thought this was an interesting idea since I think we can all agree the Weasley Twins were def dealers lol

 (I’m still on vacation I just had this one in my drafts so I finished it up)

Warning: mature, sexual, weed, smoking, swearing, probs more.  If mentions of drugs makes you uncomfortable or you just don’t like it, don’t read this please! as implied by the title, this is literally all about what smoking with Fred Weasley would include 

-      Okay lets face it

-       Everyone and their owls know Fred and George Weasley were the best, most trusted, ‘flower’ dealers in Hogwarts 🍃🍃

-       You knew this before you started dating Fred

-       It just came as a bonus after getting together

-       Fred and George are almost always a little high

-       They sell carts, wax, edibles and flower

-       Like they’ve got it all, and the best quality

-      Their edibles are only for the brave; half the time you get an out of this world high, and other times, your skin is bright pink for a week from their trick

-       Lee Jordan also helps them with sales, the three of them are by far the biggest stoners in your year- probably in the whole castle

-       Seeing as most Slytherins’ did lines in the bathroom and in their dorms, Fred and George hardly sold to Slytherins

-       Most of the money the twins make goes towards saving for their dream joke shop

-       But Fred loves to buy you gifts when he has the chance

-       Like flowers, a bracelet, butterbeer, candies, books, etc.

-       He adores spoiling you

-       Fred never makes you pay if you wanna pick up from him

-       But he usually prefers you smoke with him or him and George

-       “You’re just so adorable when you’re high, sweetheart, I don’t wanna miss a thing. Plus, I’m scared you’ll tweak like a minx if you’re alone.”

-       Munchies galore

-       You guys will smoke late at night in their dorm with Lee

-       George is the designated snack man and will sneak into the kitchen before your smoke session

-       Lee shoves towels under the door and closes the vents

-       You would probably be the one enchanting the room so the smell doesn’t get out, but Fred really couldn’t care if anyone smelled it

-       You’ll usually smoke out the window, then trudge over to Fred’s bed and plop onto of him

-       “Jeeze, I think someone took one too many hits.”

-       Fred, George, and Lee will mess around, laughing loudly as they pass a blunt amongst the group

-       If it’s your first few times smoking, you’d probably just sit in Fred’s lap on the ground, staring off at the floor

-       Fred loves to tease you when you’re high

-       “Earth to Y/n- come back to us please.”

-       “Lovie, you’re eyes, they’re bloodshot as hell!”

-       Lots of kisses

-       You guys don’t make out too much after smoking as it’s nearly impossible for the both of you

-       Dry mouth is a bitch

-       Fred is vvv handsy when high

-       Like he needs to be touching your skin somehow

-       Whether he places you on his lap with his arms around you

-       Or laying together in his bed

-       Or holding hands on your walk back to the castle after smoking in the forest

-       Likes to pinch your butt when you’re walking up the stairs

-       He doesn’t really like when you’re high in public

-       He can tell when you’re nervous and start getting fidgety, so he’ll ask you to go on a walk with him to calm you down

“Angel, let’s go to the lake, yeah? Think you could use some fresh air, love.”

-       Fred will help you if you’re using a bong

-       “Here, love, just breathe it in until I tell you to stop and I’ll lift the top.”

-       COUGHING IN A SIN IN THEIR DORM

-       Whoever coughs first is labeled as a ‘little bitch’ according to George

-       Fred scolds Lee and George when they try to make fun of you for coughing

-       Like will murder them with his eyes and slap ts out of George’s arm

-       “Leave her alone… you know she doesn’t smoke as much as us… it’s completely normal, darling.” “Merlin’s sake, Fred. We’re just teasing her, mate. I think you could use the hit next him, maybe it’ll calm your hormones.”

-       George and you will have heated life debates

-       “No, George! Dinosaurs were here before people!” “That is not true, Y/n. Humans ruled the earth before those vicious stompers came roaming about. The dinosaurs- or should I say dinomurders- they killed all of humanity! They stomped on them, trapped the kids in those jeeps trying to eat them and ruined the kid’s fun and made destroyed the theme park-“ “George… that’s Jurassic Parks. It’s a fucking movie, you git.”

-       Fred likes to wrap his Gryffindor tie around your head and putting his sweaters over you “Aw, you look so cute, darling. I love seeing you in my clothes but my favorite thing is seeing you with nothing on at all.” “Fred! You can’t say that in front of George and Lee-“ “Oh believe me, Y/n. We sleep only feet away from you two- we’ve heard a lot worse. A lot worse.”

-       You guys will just lay around laughing for most of the night

-       You favorite times were when Fred and George would start talking about their childhood and sharing hilarious stories

-       George likes to mess with Fred when he’s high

-       For example

-       He’ll throw his arm around you and lazily lean into your side

-       Fred would watch closely from only a few feet away

-       George would then whisper into your ear, causing giggles to erupt from your chest

-       Which makes Fred jerk in annoyance

-       The weed didn’t help control his jealous- it magnified it if anything

-       Typically, he wouldn’t care since he knew George and you were extremely close friends

-       But Fred always got a little more… horny and possessive when the weed hit his bloodstream

-       Fred would pout until you noticed him and would comfort him

-       “Freddie, what’s wrong, bubba? You look so sad, aww.”

-       His jealously would diminish the second you moved away from George to his side

-       He loves when you hold his hand

-       Your favorite thing to do when high is play with his red, vibrant hair or when he would stroke and pet yours

-       Fred likes to attempt a braid in your hair

-       But he just ends up twisting two strands of hair in a coil then wrapped your black hair tie at the end

-       The gleeful, proud look on his face afterwards melted your heart so much you couldn’t tell him he failed miserably at a braid

-       You guys will place bets on who will slump first

-       It’s usually you or George

-       Fred and Lee will stay up until morning talking about life, school, quidditch, life goals, and anything else

-       Nights that you did get high with Fred in his dorm, he’d always insist that you sleep in his bed

-       He didn’t like taking the risk of you walking alone to your dorm room and risk getting caught

-       The last thing he wanted was you in trouble when he could’ve prevented it

-       You guys like to sneak into the kitchen after hours and make edibles together

-      Preferably marshmallow bar edibles or cookies

-       You liked to bring things with you for your smoke sessions with the twins

-       Like coloring books

-       A blanket, since Fred only sleeps with two which just seems criminal

-       A water bottle !!! this is a must

-       And some vanilla cherry Chapstick, Fred’s favorite

-       Fred’s favorite spot to smoke in along the Black Lake at night

-       Coming here with Fred will usually end with the both of you swimming in the lake

-       Whether it’s because he pushed you, you pushed him, or it was decided in the moment mutually that midnight was the perfect time for a swim

-      You liked smoking out by the lake as it was relaxing and fun with Fred

-       But you much preferred his dorm- it was the safest option by far

-       Fred loves getting high alone with you

-       Typically in his room as your roommates didn’t want people constantly in and out of the room as where Fred, George, and Lee were used to it

-       They made a handful of sales from their dorm room

-       Like a sinful amount 

-       It was by far the easiest way

-       Fred would light some candles before you arrived

-       A variety of sweets and snacks were sprawled against his bed

-        And warm fuzzy socks laid out for you 

-       He’d pack the bowl, then open the window

-       A blanket was thrown across the ledge so you could sit more comfortably

-       “What a gentleman!”

-       After smoking, Fred would carry you back to his bed

-       Most nights, you guys would just cuddle and whisper to each other

-       Fred never misses an opportunity to kiss you

-       On your lips

-       Forehead

-       Cheek

-       Nose

-       Neck (which will usually lead to something else with this boy)

-       Anywhere

-       Continuously giggling all night

-       Fred and you share your high thoughts

-       “But, just hear me out here. Is there another word for synonym?”

-       “Babe, who do you think came up with the alphabet? And how the fuck did they put the alphabet shit in alphabetical order.” “Darling, I am way too baked to even remember what fucking goes in an alphabet.”

-       High sex

-       Fred makes you feel so comfortable

-      Compliments you profusely 

-       Lot of laughing

-       He lovesssss going down on you when you’re both baked

-       Cause you make the cutest little noises, euphoria taking over your sense

-       He can stay down there for hours just basking in your sweet moans

-       Favorite is missionary so he can see every reaction gracing your face

-       Is only brave enough to try new sex adventures when he’s either high or drunk

-       Discovers that you both very much so enjoy his hand wrapped around your neck as he thrusts into you

-       And when you get on top

-       His touchy side comes out the most in these moments

-       Sloppy sex

-       But still vvvv fulfilling and pleasurable

-       He’ll whisper in your ear as his pace quickens

-       “You look so beautiful, sweetheart. So pure but so dirty just for me.”  

-       “Merlin, you’re bloody breathtaking with my fingers in your mouth, angel.”

-       “Freddie, you feel so good.”

-       You both finish within a matter of minutes, never lasting long when in this state

-       “…That was the best sex I’ve ever had, ever.” “Fred, lovie, you say that every time we have sex.”

“Cause it just keeps getting better and better!”

-       Cuddling for the rest of the night

-       Always making sure you’re dressed before George or Lee turn in for the night

-       Fred would fall asleep first when it was just the two of you

-       He talks in his sleep, nearly every hour he’d mutter something

-       In an odd way, you found it comforting

-       Especially when it’s your name he’s mumbling

-       Falling asleep in Fred’s arms

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley oneshot #george weasley imagine #george weasley one shot #george weasley imagine #George Weasley x reader imagine #Fred and George Weasley #george weasley #Fred Weasley x reader #hogwarts #gyffindor #imagine #hp imagine #hp imagines #harry potter imagines #Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #Harry Potter x reader #ron weasly imagine #Ron Weasley #Molly Weasley #Ginny Weasley #weasley twins #weasley #Weasley twins imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #Draco Malfoy

[yslkook]

BORDERSZ (4)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: jungkook accompanies you on your journey to purchase a brand new car. jimin charms your pants off (or attempts to) and sora has a proposal for you that you don't quite say no to. pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc warnings: cursing, alc, excessive use of pet names, kinda toxic friendship

It takes about two weeks for Jungkook to understand exactly what kind of car you were looking for- essentially a sturdy vehicle that would get you from point A to point B without fail. Something reliable, would last for years and years, something efficient. Not necessarily anything fancy or luxurious.

But Jungkook had finally got you to shyly confess that you wouldn’t mind having heated seats in your car. After all, it had been something you’d dreamed of ever since you had received your driver’s license-

“Nothing else? Just heated seats?” Jungkook implores curiously as he pours over your meticulous binder for the fifth time. Honestly, you didn’t really need his help. You already knew what you were doing. His presence at the dealership will probably ensure that you’re not getting scammed, if anything. He loves his friends (two of them being his roommates), but he knows the truth about how they make their sales.

Mei and Mina call them sleazy car salesmen for a reason after all.

“It’s not ‘just’ heated seats!” You protest, “We never had the money for cars with heated seats when I was growing up. So that’s what I want.”

“How about leather heated seats?” Jungkook suggests, “Leather seats have better ventilation-”

“Oh, I know,” You say matter-of-factly.

“Of course you do. Smart ass.”

It feels incredibly domestic, walking into Namjoon’s car dealership together with Jungkook. Shoulder to shoulder, hopping off of his motorcycle together. He had taken it upon himself to purchase a second helmet, despite your insistence that you would pay for one.

But he had told you not to get a big head, that the helmet wasn’t for you specifically. That he needed a second helmet anyway, and you joining him on the motorcycle more and more as of recently was just the impetus for him to purchase one.

So you say nothing when it’s clear that he had bought the helmet with you in mind- it’s a sleek, glossy lilac color. A similar shade of lilac as your phone case, your favorite small backpack, and your work notebook.

You say nothing about it, only keeping your small smile to yourself.

Of course it’s Jimin who immediately jumps up to offer you assistance today. He gives Jungkook a Cheshire grin, mischief dancing in his eyes. Not that you would know otherwise.

He knows Jimin won’t let him live this down. At least Taehyung might have a little more tact than Jimin.

“So are you both looking for a vehicle together?” Jimin asks once you’re both seated in the comfortable leather seats in front of his desk, when in fact he knows damn well that you’re not.

“Huh? N-no, I’m looking for a car. Jungkook is helping me out,” You say, your face heating up at the implication. Isn’t Jimin one of his roommates?

Jungkook’s tongue pokes his cheek. You notice.

“I’m here to make sure that you or Taehyung don’t scam her,” Jungkook says, “Where’s Joon? He’s less...annoying than you.”

“Joon can’t even drive a fucking car. He has no business trying to sell them,” Jimin says swiftly.

“Er,” You interrupt softly, “Isn’t he your boss? He owns the entire dealership, doesn’t he?”

Jungkook stifles a laugh at your presumed innocence. You offer a slick smile to Jimin when he scoffs in amusement.

“Yes,” Jimin says, “So tell me. How can I make your dreams come true?”

If Jungkook wasn’t with you, you think you would’ve fallen victim to Jimin’s charms long ago. He’s nice, a little flirty and funny. But helpful. You can see how someone might end up paying more than they’d need to with Jimin being their car salesman.

You listen to every word Jimin says, taking notes in a specific section of your binder with your favorite black ballpoint pen. You need to have all the information at your fingertips before making a big decision, no matter what it is. Jungkook had teased you for it at first, but he’s become accustomed to your thought process.

Jimin has shown you at least five different types of models of cars ranging from sedans to SUVs. In theory, they all fit the bill. But you haven’t really felt the connection with any of them.

Jimin is nothing if not patient, though.

“I’m sorry,” You say, “I know I’m being meticulous. You must be annoyed.”

“It’s my job, sweetheart,” Jimin shrugs, “Besides, you can repay me with your phone number maybe, huh?”

“That doesn’t sound like an ethical business practice,” You say flatly while Jungkook glares at Jimin (who only smirks at him in return), “You already have it. From when I made the appointment.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“You wish,” You roll your eyes, “Does every one of your clients get this treatment or is it just me?”

“Nah, it’s just anyone who catches Jungkookie’s eye,” Jimin winks at you and Jungkook is about to strangle his roommate. Perhaps he should put an ad out for a new roommate, considering he might kill his current one in the next five minutes.

“O-oh,” You falter, cheeks blazing at this point, “Can we look at a few more? I’m gonna use the restroom really quickly. Maybe even grab a coffee.”

“Sure, sweetheart. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Will you fuckin’ stop it? I can’t believe you,” Jungkook hisses, “We’re literally at your workplace and you’re putting the moves on her-”

“Oh, will you relax,” Jimin says breezily, “I’m just seeing if she’ll take the bait.”

“There’s no reason for that shit,” Jungkook says, glaring at his friend, “Cut it out.”

“I like her,” Jimin says, as if he hadn’t spoken, “She’s cute.”

“Back off,” Jungkook says, “And while we’re at it, just for you being an ass. You’re gonna give her heated seats for free.”

Jungkook watches your eyes light up at the car that Jimin is currently telling you about. He can already tell from your wide eyes and soft, excited smile that this is the one. You’re already running the checklist through your head, physically looking at your notes as Jimin easily answers your questions.

“Can I take her for a test drive?” You ask Jimin and he somehow produces a set of keys for the exact model from his pocket.

“I knew this would be the one…” Jimin says as he takes you to the parking lot to grab the test car. Jungkook rolls his eyes in fondness and heads off to find his other roommate, Taehyung. And to say hello to his friend, Namjoon.

“It suits you,” Jimin says once you’d taken the car out for a drive and brought it back safely.

“You think so?” You ask, giving the keys back to him, “I bet you say that to everyone.”

“Only when I mean it, sweetheart,” Jimin winks at you.

“How lucky for me,” You mutter under your breath, “So...what are the next steps?”

“I bring out the contract, you sign it, and you take your new car home,” Jimin says confidently.

“Yeah,” You say dreamily and look outside to the car in longing. You’ve done the homework, done the research. Went through this logically and meticulously. Even if the car does start depreciating the minute you step out of the dealership… You want it. It checks all of the boxes, you know you’ll get your money’s worth from it.

But before you give Jimin the okay to draw up the contracts, you want to tell Jungkook. You spot him talking to Taehyung, his bunny smile on display (which makes you smile in turn) and excuse yourself from Jimin for a minute to go after Jungkook.

“Hi,” You say and introduce yourself to Taehyung, who offers you a wide, boxy smile, “I’m gonna get it. The car, I mean. I love her.”

“She passed the vibe check?” Jungkook asks.

“Yeah. She passed the vibe check.”

When you comb through the hefty contract with sharp eyes, Jungkook is somewhat amused to see the free of charge cost for the heated seats. Jimin only winks at him in response.

You can’t seem to find anywhere else where Jimin may be overcharging you, so you ask Jungkook to review it, too. And surprisingly, Jungkook finds nothing out of the ordinary. He knows how Jimin operates here, trying to gain any extra cent of commission that he can. Not that that’s a terrible thing.

“It’s yours, sweetheart,” Jimin says fifteen minutes later, once you sign your name on the dotted line.

“Really?” You let out an exhilarated laugh, adrenaline suddenly coursing through your veins, “Really, really?”

“Keys are yours, and someone will bring the car out front for you,” Jimin smiles, “Congratulations on your first car. I’m honored that you chose me to help you make this purchase.”

“Wouldn’t have had it any other way, Jimin,” You beam. After a moment of deliberation, “Oh, by the way- have fun on your date with Mina tonight. I heard all about it.”

Mischief dances in your eyes and Jimin’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he lets out a surprised laugh. Jungkook looks at you proudly- that’s what Jimin gets for being a menace.

Jungkook wraps an arm around your shoulders and walks you out of the dealership and you slowly wrap a tentative, shy arm around his waist. You both wait shoulder to shoulder for one of the dealership boys to bring your brand new car out front.

In the meantime, you try to pluck up the courage to ask Jungkook to have a drink with you after. To celebrate and to treat your friend for helping you out for the last few weeks. You bite your bottom lip in nervousness and Jungkook notices. He wants nothing more than to gently pull your bottom lip out of your own grip, but refrains from doing so.

But you realize, it’s Jungkook, this is your friend and the comforting, warm scent of laundry that envelopes you gives you a little courage.

“Do you want to grab a drink or something after this?” You ask softly, “I… wanted to treat you. For helping me the last few weeks with the car stuff.”

“C’mon, baby. You know I’ll never say no to a pretty girl buying me a drink,” Jungkook says, lips pulled apart into a sly smirk.

“Oh, that’s all I am to you? A pretty girl?” You roll your eyes and shove his shoulder playfully, despite the heat in your cheeks.

“Not at all,” Jungkook murmurs, tightening his hold around your shoulders and looking at you with sincerity dripping from his big, brown eyes, “You’re my pretty girl.”

If he didn’t have a strong arm around your shoulders, you’re certain you would’ve evaporated into the floor at his words.

The image of Jungkook smoking outside of the bar right under the glowing, purple neon lights is an image you haven’t seen very often. A strand of dark hair falls in front of his face as he lights his cigarette, his eyebrows knitted together in concentration.

Even from this distance, you can see the purse of his lips and the silver glint of rings on his fingers. It shouldn’t send a rush down your spine the way it does, but you won’t deny it. When it comes to Jungkook, you won’t deny your feelings. Or your attraction.

For some reason, a thought crosses your mind- you hadn’t told Sora that you had purchased a new car. Much less that Jungkook had helped you pick one out. But you push her from your mind easily, as if you’ve been doing the last few weeks. It’s been difficult for you to keep Jungkook out of your conversations with Sora- she always has a way of bringing him up more than not.

But it’s not just Jungkook she has a strong, stubborn opinion on. It’s everything these days- you had showed her cars that you were interested in and she had shot every one of them down, she always has something to say about your passion for work (or rather she never pays enough attention about it), and she even had something negative to say when you had timidly brought up that you were maybe thinking about another ear piercing.

You’re growing tired of it. You find yourself getting nervous around her, like you’re walking on eggshells around her. Even when she just texts you, your heart speeds up in anxiety. But at the same time, there is a voice in your head telling you not to upset her.

As if that’s somehow the worst thing that could ever happen. Objectively, you know Sora. You know she’s stubborn and loud in her opinions and always has to get her way. But at the core of it all, you want to believe that she has a good heart. Because if she doesn’t have a good heart… Then what were you doing this to yourself for? What were you surrounding yourself with all of this negativity for?

You can sense Jungkook’s dislike of her, even if he doesn’t outright say it. But you’re no idiot. Mina and Mei have been honest with you on their opinions of her. So has Yoongi and Hobi.

They all think she’s dragging you down and that you’ll spiral in her negativity if you don’t open your eyes. They’ve all had a few choice words for her, but you find yourself uneasy whenever the topic of Sora comes up.

The more you hear it, the more you wonder about your supposed best friend. But you push those sour thoughts away to focus on the man in your field of vision.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you approach him on unsteady feet.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jungkook mutters with the cigarette in between his lips when you get closer to get a good look at him.

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” You reply, eyes subconsciously wandering to the cigarette. Your nose scrunches at the smell without you even realizing it.

“You look like my mom when she first saw me smoking,” Jungkook says bluntly.

“Your mom? You really wanna compare me to your mother?” You raise an eyebrow, “Don’t know what that says about you, Jungkook.” Jungkook lets out a surprised laugh at that.

“Shut up,” Jungkook rolls his eyes and peels himself off of the brick wall before putting his cigarette out and tossing it in the ashtray next to him, “I think you owe me a drink?”

Jungkook, you decide, is dangerous and warm all at once. The starry glint of his big, doe eyes throws you off more than once, leaving you either stammering over your words or choking on your drink when you try to reply to him.

The bar is quiet and nearly empty, only the sounds of faint music playing in the background to keep you both company. You’re both facing each other at the bar, knees touching ever so slightly.

Even that simple touch makes you feel warm all over.

Jungkook slides your drink towards you, a soft ‘thank you’ pushing itself out of your lips. You suppress a shiver when his ring clad fingers brush over yours, and he notices the way you tense up a little bit with his touch.

He appreciates the way the dim lights shine on your hair and illuminate the planes of your pretty face. He thinks it’s the perfect lighting for a photo of you- the dark colored jacket and your dark wash jeans blending into the colors of the bar around you. Something at the base of your neck glints as you turn to face him.

“Cheers, to your new car,” Jungkook murmurs, tipping his glass towards yours.

“Cheers to you for helping me,” You reply with a smile, clinking your drink with his.

“Pleasure’s all mine, baby,” Jungkook says, “You deserve it.”

“Deserve a vehicle that will have hardly any value in ten to fifteen years?”

“You deserve something for yourself,” Jungkook corrects, looking into your eyes as if he can see right through you. You’d told him how you had grown up with one car amongst a family of five, and how money was tight when you were younger. You were the eldest of three, and now that everyone was older, you had slowly started dipping your toes into the concept of having things for yourself.

You whisper a soft thank you and take a sip of your drink. “My parents were so excited about the car,” You say quietly, “Told them I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Oh? You told your parents about me?”

“Had to tell them about the man who got me heated seats for free,” You reply with a knowing grin, “You think I didn’t catch that?”

“Heated seats were the least Jimin could’ve done,” Jungkook rolls his eyes.

You wave him off, “I like him. I could see why him and Mina are good together. She told me they’ve had this weird on and off thing for, like, a year now? Like c’mon. Get it together.”

“Yeah. Don’t know why they keep denying the inevitable,” He says, voice full of something barely concealed.

“The inevitable?”

“They both have their issues but… They would make it work if they sorted themselves out,” He says softly, a tenderness to his eyes that makes your belly flip. You don’t know if he’s talking about Jimin and Mina or about… something else.

Something else being you and him.

“Maybe one of them is scared,” You whisper.

“They can work through it together,” Jungkook replies instantly. The air in between you both is charged, plush with tension and electricity. You look at him unsurely, with wide eyes, and god, if Jungkook doesn’t want to sweep you off of your feet and pull you in for a kiss.

“Jungkook, I-” You murmur, voice soft and deafening, silky like honey in his ears. The moment is right there, ripe for you, ripe for him...

And then your phone starts ringing, and Jungkook has never heard a worse sound. Your chest drops for a second when you see that it’s Sora calling you, and Jungkook has never felt as frustrated as he does right in this moment. Each significant moment of frustration over the past few months has Sora linked to it. He wonders if she has a radar for interrupting at the worst possible moments.

You give him an apologetic glance before answering the phone. She only calls if it’s important or if she needs you so you won’t risk it.

“H-hello-”

“You’ll never guess what I just did,” Comes Sora’s excited voice through the receiver. It’s too sugary, too sweet. You wince.

“What’s that?” You mumble, shoulders drooping.

“Got you a date for this Friday, you remember Yunho right?” She exclaims. If your heart wasn’t on the floor already, it certainly was by now. “He wants to take you out- he’s the lawyer, remember?”

“Y-yeah, I remember,” You say weakly, “But-”

Jungkook’s eyes flash at your suddenly dejected frown. That’s what Sora does- she takes you and she turns your happiness into something sad. It’s like she can’t stand to see you happy about something that doesn’t align with her “vision”.

“You can thank me later, babe,” Sora says cheerily. This time, you visibly cringe as you try to protest. Try to tell her that you don’t want a date with this man, that you only want a date with the man in front of you. But you can’t get the words out, she won’t listen and she hangs up on you before you can get a word in edgewise.

“Sorry about that,” You mutter.

“Why? She’s your friend. Not mine,” Jungkook says brusquely and you bristle at his bluntness.

You’re distracted for the rest of the evening, mind on another wavelength. He knows you’re upset, but he doesn’t push. He gets you to smile and laugh a few times, only for your eyes to turn sad right after.

Jungkook only wishes that you’d be able to see what was right in front of you.

TAGS: @kookdbean

MoM tags: @tiemeuptogoldenchains @boymeetsparadise @jungkooksseuphoria @kaepjjangiya @drumsofheaven @ppeachyttae @tae-bebe @yiyi4657 @mygscafe

#jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x you

[snackhobi]

pairing: yoongi x reader // word count: 15.8k // genre: smut

summary: your idea of a good night certainly doesn't involve being stood up by yet another blind date and finding yourself alone in a fancy bar; fortunately for you, there's an attractive man playing the piano to keep you busy, instead.

warnings: sexually explicit content (NSFW), cursing, minor consumption of alcohol, oral (m and f receiving), protected sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, pet names, slight exhibitionism, slight praise kink, light dom/sub undertones if you squint ig (reader is kind of subby)

– –

Throughout the years of your life, you've learned a few things. Some of them are pretty obvious (buying suspiciously cheap sushi from a petrol station is like playing Russian Roulette with food poisoning and diarrhoea), some of them are less so (just because something is 'on sale' doesn't actually mean that it's cheaper if they'd increased the overall price beforehand), but one thing that you're only just starting to learn is that— for all that Jimin says otherwise— blind dates will always stand you up.

jiminnie is he there yet??

you to my entire lack of surprise, no. i'm starting to wonder if this 'hoseok-hyung' of yours even exists tbh i should have been suspicious from the second you called him a 'friend' bc that implies that you HAVE friends

jiminnie ok RUDE. we're friends??

you suddenly i can't read

The two of you had been outrageously drunk after a night out on the town, once, and Jungkook had come to collect his tipsy boyfriend, and you'd seen the fond way he'd watched Jimin despite his messy behaviour— how he'd given Jimin a piggyback even though it must have been hard with the way Jimin had been squirming and laughing and kicking his legs back and forth— and your heart had squeezed tight in your chest. (You'd been so drunk.)

It had honestly been a slip of the tongue when you'd revealed to Jimin that you were kind of maybe feeling somewhat lonely, a little bit, potentially. You'd had one night stands and short flings but it's been a long time since you've been in an actual relationship, a long time since you've really clicked with someone. Maybe part of you had been missing it, that connection with another person. Normally you're fine with being single, but Jungkook and Jimin are so in love that it spills out from them and you guess in the moment you'd wanted to feel that, too.

You blame the alcohol. You also blame your own loose lips. And Jimin, you blame him too, for persuading you to go clubbing in the first place. You don't even remember what you'd said, waking up with a headache the weight and size of a tectonic plate, groaning at the pain of the morning light stabbing into your eyes, but with no recollection of your admittance that maybe you were tired of being single. Your best friend, however— despite having drunk more than you— could recall the previous night with crystalline clarity, much to your horror and embarrassment. And, because Jimin is Jimin, he'd latched onto what you'd said with the tenacity of a dog with a bone.

Fast forward to where you're sitting now, on yet another arranged date that he's planned for you— and once again, you've been stood up.

you i'm starting to wonder if any of the people you've tried to set me up with are even real

jiminnie omg they ARE you had a nice time with lisa??

Okay, so you hadn't been stood up for every date. Lisa had been the only person who'd shown up, and she was cute and friendly and you got on like a house on fire, but you'd very quickly found out that she was actually head over heels for her best friend Jennie. You being you, your first date had rapidly turned into you giving your new friend a pep-talk and hyping her up— and suffice to say you've been having weekly girl's brunches with Lisa and her now-girlfriend Jennie ever since. So, yes, technically you haven't been stood up every time, but still.

you yes, my ideal first date involves telling the other person that their best friend is definitely in love with them too :))

jiminnie I'VE ALREADY SAID THAT I'M SORRY :(

you LMAO it's fine, it's always nice to make friends but seriously minnie, like,, if your friends are going to stand me up, could you at least have had the decency to organise the date somewhere less fancy? i spent ages getting ready and noah fence it kind of feels like i just wasted a bunch of my time,,

Jimin doesn't fuck around. From the outside the bar, Dionysus, exudes a quiet aura of exclusivity. Inside, however, it has a surprisingly understated atmosphere despite its namesake being the Grecian god of Getting Turnt, the sleek interior paired with soft lighting and stylish fixtures, elegant. 

Either way, it's the kind of place that warrants you actually pulling out the stops with your outfit and makeup; you rarely have a reason to doll yourself up like this and it makes a nice change of pace, but it seems like you shouldn't have bothered. What's the point in putting on a cute dress and nice heels, or doing your hair and opening your expensive Too Faced eyeshadow palette for the first time, if you're just going to be sitting alone at a bar all night? At least you don't stick out, which is good, you guess.

You are the only person who's alone, though. It's midweek and everyone else is seated around one of the tables, couples and groups that are engaged in quiet discussion or watching the show— there's a small stage where there's a quartet performing live music— but you're perched on one of the barstools, tapping away at your phone, alone. If anyone were to pay any attention it would be obvious that you've been stood up, but they're all too busy having an enjoyable evening to spare a glance at the girl sitting by herself at the bar.

The only person who's paying attention to you is the bartender. He's clearly good at his job, keeping an eye on you and making you feel welcome without seeming like he's hovering; he doesn't act like you're being an inconvenience, but you give him a hefty tip each time you order a new drink anyway. Hoseok might not be turning up tonight but if you've gone to the effort of dressing this nicely and getting a taxi here then goddamn you're going to make the most of it.

It takes forty two minutes and three virgin cocktails before the handsome bartender speaks to you, saying something beyond the customary back and forth you've had so far as he hands you your next mocktail. 

"Are your friends usually this late?"

You let out a little huff of laughter. "Something like that." Normally you'd be more hesitant to speak to a stranger like this, but the bartender's eyes are warm and his smile seems genuine and from what you can tell, he's just making that sure you're okay. "Seems like it'll just be me for tonight."

"You're welcome to stay and wait as long as you like," he says, and you can't help but quirk a grin at him.

"I bet you say that to all the paying customers."

He laughs and raises his hands in surrender. "You got me." And then: "If you want another drink, just give me a shout. I'm Seokjin, but everyone calls me Jin."

"As in, Jin and tonic?" You smile. "Sure. I'll be sure to remember that. I'm Y/n."

"Nice to meet you, Y/n." Jin gives you a grin before disappearing down the other side of the bar to make drinks for some other customers. Your own smile slowly fades, and then turns into a frown, eyes landing on the clock on the wall; Hoseok is forty five minutes late at this point. (You know he's not going to show.) It's been so long that the musicians on the stage have finished their set and are leaving, a different performer about to step on, and you sigh. You'll finish this last drink and then you'll go.

You use your straw to stir the mint leaves and ice cubes around, muddling the flavours in your glass. You haven't really been paying attention to the music before now; you couldn't name the songs that have been performed so far, but they're common enough that you'd recognised the sound of them, the sort of music that most people could hum along to but probably wouldn't know the origin of. Easy listening. Pleasant, but nothing new. It's clearly more about setting a nice backdrop to the bar rather than music for music's sake. A background noise, rather than acting as the focal point of the bar.

You assume this is going to be the case for the next musician, and so you barely pay any mind as the he takes to the stage alone; you're looking down at your glass as he sits at the piano and puts his feet on the pedals and places his hands on the keys, but then, he starts to play.

Your eyes snap up. A chord hangs in the air, extended, haunting; a crescendo into a light melody; the chords dip, waters dark and deep while he weaves the higher notes with infinite softness, ebbing notes that fade into each other, his fingers dancing across the keys with grace and ease. You notice with a throb in your chest that he has no sheet music. He's pulling this music from inside him, his mind, entirely from his own memory.

His eyes are cast down as he watches his hands, but you can see how they slip shut whenever he tilts his head back, fringe hanging over them. His hair is bleached blond but he clearly hasn't been maintaining the look, with dark roots starting to show through. His posture is horrible, his spine a little curved as he slouches forward, and he's not dressed as sharply as the other musicians had been— there's no tie around his neck and he has a multitude of earrings in, rings on his fingers, changing his outfit into something a little messy and different and entirely unique.

He's fucking breathtaking.

Without realising, you've swivelled away from the bar to watch him. Your drink is still clutched in your hand but you pay it no mind, condensation gathering on the cold glass and dripping down your fingers the longer you sit there, ice cubes melting as he finishes his first song and moves onto the next. Same as the first, you don't recognise it, the melody echoing deep in your chest, speaking of some feeling that you can't put a name to, each sliding arpeggio and chord reaching inside you and hanging there, little glowing droplets that shine out like moonlight.

Each of his pieces are entirely different and yet they all feel like him, somehow. Strong and soft and lovely and aching. The water from your glass has pitter-pattered onto your lap, darkening the fabric of your dress in some nameless constellation, but you don't notice. Your world has narrowed down to: the sound of his music, the motions of his hands, the way he bends into the notes, him. 

Your eyes trace his profile, the cat-like eyes, the round of his nose, the pout of his lips, falling into the way he lifts his chin and tilts his head; thoughtless, gorgeous.

You don't realise that it's over until it's over. The final notes hang in the air, crystallising, and then they fade. He finishes with little fanfare, tilting a polite nod at the audience that claps for him, and then he slips off the stage and is gone just as quickly as he had come. You blink, coming back to yourself; you feel like you're rising out of deep water, motions slow and heavy, and you don't know how long you've been sitting there, entirely entranced. You'd been too distracted to clap. You'd just sat and watched in silence as he'd turned to leave, barely sparing the room a glance.

"Good, isn't he?"

Normally you would have startled at Jin's sudden appearance. Instead you just blink again, still trying to shake off the daze you've found yourself in. "Yeah." Your voice is hoarse. You clear your throat and suck in a breath and put your drink down, dripping wetness that leaves a ring on the smooth wood of the bar, and try to speak normally this time, willing your voice to be level. "Yes. He's very good."

"Yoongi is here at the same time every week," Jin supplies, tone conversational, like he's just having a regular chat. Yoongi. His name is Yoongi. You wonder if Jin can hear how your heart is pounding, the galloping hooves of a wild horse that tumble in your chest. You try to keep your expression stoic as you look at him, scared that he'll be able to read what's written across your face— but he's smiling at you in the same way as before. Just a barkeeper who's trying to get a return customer. (Although, you'd swear there was a glint in his eye for the briefest moment, but then it's gone.) "He changes the set each time, if you're interested in coming back to hear something new."

Your mouth feels dry and you swallow, trying to wet your lips. Dionysus is too fancy of a place to ask customers for tips for the musicians, but— "Can I buy him a drink?"

Jin cocks his head at you. "A drink? For Yoongi?"

"Yes," you say. You feel a little shy when you spot his expression, biting your lip. "I just really enjoyed the music, and I'd like to tip him somehow? Is that a normal thing that people do?"

Jin pauses, and then smiles. This smile is a little wider than the ones he's given you before, different, but he seems pleased. "Who cares about what's normal? I'll get a drink to him. What would you like?"

"Um, whatever he prefers," you say. You figure that Jin would have a better idea about what that is than you, which is proven true by his almost instantaneous reply.

"He likes red wine, or whisky, neat. I think tonight is a whisky kind of night." He's already going through the motions of putting the drink together, and you slide him money as he begins to pour. You know nothing about Yoongi but you can't help but feel like the drink suits him— simple, classic, masculine. "Do you want me to pass on a message for you?"

"Um, you can just say that it's from someone who enjoyed the music, I guess?" You giggle a little, feeling awkward and off balance. Jin is looking at you like he's expecting you to say something else, but you just want to express your enjoyment of Yoongi's music and nothing more. You don't— you don't want to be weird, you just like the sound of his piano playing.

Jin disappears into the back with the glass of whisky, and you finish the watery remnants of your drink before you leave, ice cubes completely melted in the— wow— forty minutes that Yoongi had been playing. It hadn't felt that long at all.

It's not until you're stepping through your front door that you realise you haven't looked at your phone since before the beginning of Yoongi's set. Jimin's messages have been changing from apologetic to concerned to downright frantic.

jiminnie Y/N BLINK TWICE IF YOU NEED HELP

you how many times should i blink if i don't need help?

jiminnie omg you're ALIVE where were you?? i was starting to get worried

you sorry i got distracted! but i'm fine, i'm at home hoseok never showed

jiminnie yeah i know :(( he messaged me saying he had an emergency and couldn't make it tonight but he's free this weekend??

you … remember when i said that this was the last blind date i was going to go on?

jiminnie it doesn't count as a date if hyung never turned up!!!

you that isn't true and you know it omg minnie… i appreciate what you're trying to do but pls bb. let it rest

jiminnie i just want you to be happy :((

you i don't have to be in a relationship to be happy

jiminnie you said you were lonely!

you omg i was DRUNK let it GO besides being stood up by multiple blind dates isn't going to help me feel less lonely lmao i get that you're happy in your relationship with kookie and you want to spread that happiness but you don't have to!! i'm fine!! yeah i get lonely sometimes but what single person doesn't?? i'm happy being by myself hhhhh

jiminnie fine :(( but if you change your mind, hobi-hyung would still love to meet you!

As you kick off your heels, humming a bar of Yoongi's music to yourself, you think that Hoseok probably shouldn't bother holding his breath.

(That night, when you sleep, you dream of dark eyes and the press of a sinfully perfect cupid's bow against your own lips, a pair of large hands drawing noises from you like a glissando, rings cool against your heated skin.)

–

Wednesday nights become a ritual of sorts. You get dressed, do your hair, match your makeup to your outfit and shoes, coordinating your look into something that doesn't look out of place in Dionysus before you hop into a taxi and make your way to the bar.

You're a firm regular by now. Your seat has become just that, your seat, the same one you'd been sitting in the first time you'd been there; it's towards the dimmer lights at the back and so you're sitting further away from the stage than you might like, but at least you can see the whole room from here. You turn up twenty minutes before Yoongi's set and Jin always greets you warmly when he sees you: you've quickly come to enjoy your chats. Jin is always unashamedly himself and the two of you joke and laugh as he works, but he always knows to leave you alone as soon as Yoongi steps onto the stage. 

For the next forty minutes the rest of the world fades away as you drink Yoongi and his music in, listen to the lilting notes he coaxes out of the piano, watch how his fingers rest on each key before he slides into his next piece, reverent.

You never ever explicitly mention Yoongi in your conversations with Jin, though. The bartender seems to bring the musician up anyway; he does it smoothly, in a way that's utterly casual, and he seems to know a surprising amount about someone who is, by all accounts, a very private person. (You're not complaining about the fact that you now know that Yoongi wears Kumamon slippers because his feet get cold easily— "he's cold blooded, like a lizard," apparently— but you do wonder how Jin knows that.)

The Yoongi that Jin describes is just as beautiful as the man you see on stage, but less mysterious, less distant— and yet he still intimidates you. 

Jin might be his friend but to you Yoongi is unapproachable. Untouchable. To him you're just a nameless face in the audience, nothing more. His eyes will slide across the room before he starts his performance, but he never seems to notice you; it's no surprise, sitting where you do, in an area of relative darkness in comparison to the rest of the bar, and once he sits down he only looks at the piano under his hands. He has no eyes for anything else. You're far enough away and his lashes are cast so low that even when his eyes are open it's hard for you to see where he's looking, and the shadow of his fringe hides how his pupils scan his hands as he plays, anyway.

Every week, when the set draws to a close, Jin is already pouring Yoongi's whisky or wine and you slide him the exact amount of change. Every week, Jin asks if you want to pass on a message, and every week, you say the same thing: that it's from someone who enjoyed the music. And that's that. Jin will disappear to give Yoongi his drink and you'll finish your own drink in quiet solitude before you slide off your barstool to go home.

(The only thing that's changed over the weeks is that the music Yoongi plays seems to be a little lighter and— dare you say— happier? He still looks down at the piano with the same intensity, still lays his hands on the keys with the same delicate pressing weight before he begins to play— but with some songs he seems to be teasing the music out, flirting with each note, eyelashes fluttering as he lifts his chin and moves his hands.

You're not a musician by any means, so you don't know how to describe it with any sort of accuracy or terminology, but to you it's like the deep waters of Yoongi's music have been cut through with light, beams of sun rippling through the dark blue. You don't know what's caused this change, the slow uplift in his mood throughout the weeks, but you hope he manages to keep hold of it, whatever it is.)

Between work and studying and volunteering and making time to see friends, you don't often have time entirely to yourself, and so Wednesday nights are a rare moment of peace during your otherwise busy week. That's why when Jimin says that he's had to rearrange your weekly film night to Wednesday— because he and Jungkook are going down to Busan to see each other's families this weekend— you decline. 

Jimin is rendered speechless and demands to know why.

"I'm busy," is your answer. Jimin doesn't buy it.

"You're never too busy for movie night," he says. "Wednesday is the only night we're all free."

"Well, I'm not free, Minnie. Sorry," you say. His head is in your lap, your fingers gently stroking his hair, and you can easily see the way his face contorts with disbelief as he stares up at you.

"Do you hear that, babe? Y/n is too busy for our weekly tradition." Jimin sounds scandalised.

Jimin is stretched out between the two of you— while his head is in your lap, his feet are in Jungkook's, the younger man idly massaging his boyfriend's ankles and feet. "Yes, babe, I heard," Jungkook says, indulgent.

"What's more important than movie night?" Jimin lifts one of his legs and Jungkook turns his attention to that one, digging his fingers into the arch of Jimin's foot. Jimin sighs in relief, but then turns the full force of his stare back at you. "We were going to watch Spirited Away. You love Spirited Away."

"I'm just busy," you say, and that had been your mistake. You should have had some sort of credible reason but you hadn't been prepared, and while he hadn't made it obvious at the time, Jimin had latched onto your vague excuse, sniffing out weakness like a shark with blood in the water. If you'd been paying attention you'd have noticed, but you hadn't paid attention and so you hadn't noticed. (Whoops.)

And so, Wednesday night that week is the same as always; Yoongi plays his music, you fall a little bit more in love, and pass your compliments to him with Jin as the mouthpiece. You go home, wash your makeup off, and arch into the touch of your own hand while imagining it's someone else's fingers sliding across your skin. Routine. Normal. Uninterrupted. Peaceful.

The next week, however, it all goes to shit.

Okay. Maybe that's a little dramatic. It's not as bad as all that. The night starts as normal: you're on your stool, and you have your drink, and you have ten minutes until Yoongi is due to play, shifting to get comfortable, crossing your legs.

But then: 

"Oh my God, you're wearing your come fuck me heels," comes Jimin's voice from behind you, and your blood turns to ice.

You turn on the barstool so fast you almost fall off it. You come face to face with Jimin who has an expression of what can only be described as sheer delight on his face. He's even dressed appropriately for the bar, a silk shirt tucked into his Very Tight jeans and a subtle smoky eye to top it off; Jungkook looks nice, too, but you have no doubt that he's only here under sufferance, if the infinitely apologetic look on his face is anything to go by.

"Jimin?" Your voice comes out as a hiss. If you were a cat your back would be up and your hackles would be raised and all your fur would be on end, your entire body going into fight mode. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to see for myself what was more important than movie night," Jimin says simply, like it's obvious. "So here we are."

"Sorry, Y/n," Jungkook apologises from over his boyfriend's shoulder. Jimin ignores him.

You can feel how your face is starting to flush, your skin crawling with embarrassment. You change your outfit every week and your friends have managed to turn up on the one week where you've cycled into what could probably be considered your most promiscuous one, the hem of your dress high and the cut of it low, along with shoes that Jimin had rightfully named as your Come Fuck Me heels. It wasn't because you were trying to seduce anyone but you only have so many items in your wardrobe that are appropriate for Dionysus. 

"How did you find me?"

"I have my ways," Jimin says mysteriously.

"He stalked your Bitmoji on Snapchat. Ow." Jungkook pouts as Jimin slaps his arm. "Sorry, again. I said we should leave you alone but Jimin said we should check in case you'd been kidnapped because you never willingly go into bars."

You're interrupted by Jin, who'd been busy serving someone when your idiot friends had turned up; he leans across the bar and touches your shoulder and fixes Jimin and Jungkook with the most intimidating look you've ever seen on his face. You know Jin as a light-hearted pun master, harmless and goofy and approachable, a great friend— but right now he looks like some sort of beautiful guardian angel, broad shouldered and narrow eyed and honestly, pretty menacing. 

"Are you alright?" He keeps his eyes on the other two men as he speaks. "Are these guys bothering you?"

Jimin, rather than looking cowed, looks like he's reached a stage of absolute euphoria, eyes darting between Jin's hand on your shoulder to your face. Jungkook's face, meanwhile, is doing that thing it does whenever someone issues him some kind of challenge, his sweetness abruptly being swallowed by his competitive side and his stubborn refusal to lose anything. You're the only person who has the power to save this situation before it goes absolutely tits up, and you swallow down a resigned sigh.

"I'm fine, thank you, Jin," you say, looking at him with a smile as you pat the hand on your shoulder. "Unfortunately these guys are my friends, much to my infinite suffering. Well, Jungkook's alright. Jimin is the one who's the pain."

"Hey," Jimin whines. Jungkook looks quietly pleased, but pretends to scowl when Jimin looks at him, offended on his boyfriend's behalf.

Jin still seems unhappy but pulls his hand back. "Alright," he says, but then he pitches his voice low so that only you can hear: "If you need any help, just ask me for a rum and soda, okay?"

You always order mocktails whenever you're here, wanting to stay completely sober so that you can enjoy Yoongi's playing with all the attention it deserves. You've never asked for anything alcoholic, least of all a rum and soda. Although you really are okay, you can't help but be warmed by Jin's concern for you and how he's offering you this careful, considerate lifeline in case you need it. "I will do. Thanks, Jinnie."

He smiles at you and then gives Jungkook and Jimin one final frown before going to deal with a gaggle of customers who've gathered at the other end of the bar. While Jungkook remains standing, taking in the interior of the bar with wide eyes, Jimin slides onto the stool next to yours.

"He's fucking hot," Jimin says with no preamble, eyeing Jin without shame as the bartender starts to pour and mix different drinks. Jungkook makes a disgruntled noise but settles when Jimin pats him fondly on the butt. "I'm not surprised you're wearing those heels. I would too if I were you."

"Oh my God, Jimin." You hide your face in your hands. "Jin is just a friend, please don't make this weird."

"Come on, Y/n, it's okay," Jimin says reassuringly as he pats your shoulder, replacing Jin's touch with his own. "The blind dates might not have worked out, but you've met someone nice so that's good! I mean, you did meet him because I organised the date here in the first place, but I'll let that slide. Also I can't believe you missed movie night because of a boy and you didn't tell me, but I'll let that slide too because I love you."

Park Jimin is your best friend. Park Jimin meddles in your life despite your protestations and isn't beyond being passive aggressive to get his way, but Park Jimin is also one of the nicest people you know and everything he does is because he loves you and will do whatever he thinks is necessary to reach his end goal of making you happy. He's magnanimous and kind and caring, and he also has absolutely the wrong idea right now, clearly under the impression that you're attracted to Seokjin and have been flirting with him for however many weeks it's been since you were meant to meet Hoseok here.

"No, seriously, Jimin, it's not Jin." You look at Jimin through the gaps in your fingers. "He's cute, yeah, but I don't come here because of him."

Your friend looks genuinely baffled, hand stilling on your shoulder. "Then why are you here?"

And, with perfect timing— as if your life is some badly written film or romantic drama— the clock ticks over to 8pm and Yoongi steps onto the stage. His hair is dark, blond replaced with black a few weeks ago, though it's still long enough that it hangs in his eyes; he looks a little ragged around the edges, a little messy, a little tired, and altogether beautiful. You want to touch the coolness of your fingertips to the dark circles under his eyes, want to press kisses across each of his bony knuckles, want to let your tongue settle in the hollow of his neck that shows each time he leans back and tilts his head up just so.

You hadn't even meant to but you'd turned away from Jimin the second you'd heard piano notes begin to play, drawn in by the sound like a moth to a flame. Jimin's hand falls off your shoulder and you hear him breathe out a quiet oh of realisation. You tear your eyes away from the sight of Yoongi at the piano and turn on your stool to face the bar again, gripping your glass with both hands, shoulders hunched.

"I like to watch him play," you say, and your voice is near a whisper, so as not to detract from the music.

"It's beautiful," Jungkook says, speaking before Jimin can say anything. His voice is quiet, too, not wanting to break over the sound of the piano. 

And so you hear with absolute clarity as Yoongi shifts mid-song into something different and it startles you. Yoongi always varies his music, always has something new, but you've been here often enough that you had recognised the opening song— it was one of your favourites— and you know that he's cut himself off before finishing, soft melody jumping into the opening bars of something different, sharper, a little angry, maybe sorrowful. Something that pulls at you and demands your attention.

Of course you give it to him. You swing your head away from your drink to watch him once more, watch how his motions have changed, the way he surges forward and presses his weight into his arms and down into his hands, his fingertips, the keys. You turn your entire body at this point, settling in your usual position for when you watch Yoongi; you see how his head tilts and he shifts from a minor into a major key, the same notes and chords transformed from something pensive into something joyful as he leans away from the heavier hands he'd been forcing the keys down with.

"How long does this go on for?" Jimin asks.

"About thirty or forty minutes," you answer. Though you turn your head back over your shoulder so that Jimin can hear you, you keep your eyes fixed on Yoongi. It's probably entirely coincidental, the sudden change in his music coinciding with when you turned away from him and when you looked back. He's not playing for you, he's playing for the whole bar, and besides, he's been looking down at the piano the whole time. He hasn't been looking at you.

And yet. The idea that Yoongi has noticed you and wants you to watch him has something hot settling low in your belly.

Jimin leans forward so that his chin is on your shoulder, talking directly into your ear as his hands wrap around your waist from behind. "This is the guy?"

Yoongi finishes the song and you watch in captivation as he swallows and runs a hand through his hair before he starts the next one. He's never done that before. Fuck. "Yes. Yoongi's the guy."

"Do you wait until he's finished so you can speak with him?" Jimin asks, ever curious.

You pause. "No," you admit. "No, I've never actually spoken to him."

Jimin doesn't ask why you've been coming back to see a guy you don't know and haven't talked to. He just hums gently. Jimin is pushy but he's also understanding and empathetic and knows what to say, when to press forward and when to hold back. It's one of the reasons you love him so much.

Jimin lapses into silence as Yoongi starts the next piece. It's one you haven't heard before and it's a little fiercer than most of Yoongi's recent songs. Rather than each note sliding into the next, he hammers them out separately, each note a statement that builds into something larger, a provocation. A storm gathering above Yoongi's waters, threatening to pull you in, pull you under.

Behind you, you hear Jungkook and Jimin briefly murmuring to each other, then Jimin's hands slide from off your waist and you hear the sound of him shifting so that Jungkook can sit down, Jimin using his boyfriend's lap as a chair instead. You have to wonder if the barstools can actually support that kind of weight, but Jin doesn't come over to tell them off, so you figure it must be okay.

On stage, Yoongi's hands pause, an uncharacteristic caesura that breaks the flow of the notes he'd been stringing together before he resumes playing as if this hiccup had never occurred. To anyone else, it would sound like that break was meant to be there, but you know better. You know Yoongi had faltered.

No way.

No way?

He's paying attention to you.

(Oh, shit.)

No way.

You're suddenly so overwhelmed that you actually feel nauseous. You've been consumed with thoughts of Yoongi for weeks, had images of him playing you just as easily as he does that piano, thoughts of him laying you out bare beneath him, but the idea that Yoongi actually knows who you are? Is aware of you on some level? Wants your eyes on him?

Fuck. 

It's too much. 

You're already off kilter from Jimin and Jungkook's arrival— as harmless as their appearance was meant to be— and this is the cherry on top. You don't know if you can keep your composure right now and you need to get away from Yoongi before you end up walking onto the stage and pulling him off that stupid piano stool to show him exactly how much you enjoy his music.

"Jimin? Jungkook? How about you say we go to a club and get absolutely shitfaced?"

You haven't looked away from Yoongi in the time that you've said this, but you can just feel the confusion emanating from the men behind you.

"But you—"

"I thought—"

"We're already dressed up, aren't we? Besides, I still owe you for film night, so drinks are on me."

There's little argument from them after that. For the first time since you've been coming here you leave before Yoongi's set is done, slipping out of the bar without noticing Jin's confused gaze on you. 

It's not until much later, once you've drunkenly fallen onto Jimin and Jungkook's couch, that the sober part of your brain whispers to you: you didn't buy Yoongi his drink.

(That night you dream of stormy skies and tattered sails and a capsizing ship. Once you wake, the memory of the dream quickly leaves you, and the last thing you remember is the sight of someone reaching towards you, pulling you out of the water, skin pale and head ringed with blond hair, a halo— and then you forget that too, slipping through your fingers like quicksand.)

–

Of course you go back to Dionysus the next week. You make Jimin promise that he won't turn up without warning again, and then you make Jungkook promise that he'll at least send you a heads-up message if Jimin changes his mind. Despite both these promises, after the debacle last week with your outfit, you've actually bought new clothes, so at least today you don't feel as scandalous. (You still look hot, though.)

You're grateful when Jin doesn't press you for details or ask why you left early last week. He just greets you like he normally does and predicts your order with his usual aptitude, and as you stir your drink with your straw, you have to wonder at what happened. You're probably overreacting, overthinking things, grasping at nothing; there is not a chance in hell that Min Yoongi, reclusive piano savant, has noticed you. No way. Nuh-uh.

He's probably only aware of your existence because of the repeated drinks you've had Jin foist on him. If anything he's probably annoyed at you after not tipping him with last week— he's probably come to expect them by now and you'd forced him to miss out. Maybe you'll get Jin to give him two drinks this week? Ooh, then again, maybe not. Is two shots of whisky a lot? People drink doubles, don't they. How strong is the wine he likes, anyway?

Yoongi's appearance on stage pulls you out of your thoughts. He makes his way up the steps, towards the piano, scans the room— and then for the first time since you've been coming here to watch him, he stops.

He stops because he's looking at you.

It's only for the briefest moment, eyes resting on you for maybe five seconds, and then you breathlessly watch as his mouth twists into something that can only be described as a smirk, pleased at the sight of you.

Oh, God.

He looks away and sits at the piano like he normally does, but you would swear that his back is a little straighter— something in his posture that reads as cockiness, even. He launches into a song that starts light but then almost immediately dances into something flirtatious, seductive, and tonight whenever Yoongi glances at you, he makes sure that you know. He turns his head just so, looks at you through the curve of his lashes, each touch of those dark eyes against your own sending little shivers through you, punching the breath out of your lungs.

You've always been entranced by Yoongi and tonight is no different. The minutes slide by as easy as water, liquid, music gliding over you like the rising tide, kissing your skin like the ebb and flow of the waves. It feels like he's barely started when his set is over and he's finished, standing up with as little ostentation as always before he vanishes off the stage.

You already have the money counted out before Jin has made his way over. You slide it towards him as he pours the whisky, but rather than asking if you have a message to pass to Yoongi, a look of consternation passes over his face.

"The price has gone up," Jin says, and you blink.

"Oh, that's no problem. How much is it now?" You're reaching for your purse to get more money out when Jin puts the whisky on the bar in front of you.

"No, don't worry, I'll just go out back and get the right change for you," he says. He says it with such confidence that it takes you a beat too long to realise that what he's just said makes no sense— why is he getting you change if you haven't even given him enough money? Isn’t there change in the till?— but by this point he's already gone, the staff door swinging shut behind him. 

You tilt your head, beyond confused.

Someone chuckles from behind you, the sound quiet and low. "Ah, cute."

You twist in your seat to see who's talking and then freeze. Yoongi is standing right there, looking at you with his dark, dark eyes; it's the first time you've been subjected to the full intensity of his gaze, from this close, and your pulse picks up. He looks a little softer without the lights of the small stage throwing him into sharp relief but his aura is just as intense; your eyes dart across each feature of his face as you drink him in— the mess of his fringe hanging into his sharp eyes, the faintest freckle on his nose, his surprisingly cute cheeks, his pink mouth.

The mouth that's curving into a sly little smile, now, your eyes flying back up to meet his own.

"I'm guessing this is for me?" He points at the whisky. He takes it before you can answer, and there's something unfairly erotic about how he drinks it: the way he holds the glass, swirling the whisky over the chilled rocks inside; the way his mouth falls open as the tumbler touches his lips; the way his head tilts back as he lets the liquor flow into his mouth, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.

You shamelessly watch him the whole time. He lowers the glass from his lips, still a little parted as he takes a breath in, and then he's looking back at you. You have to bite back a noise that's risen up in your throat, unbidden. Does he know how much he affects you? 

You adjust your position on the barstool, thoughtlessly uncrossing and recrossing your legs as you regain your balance. Yoongi's eyes fly down to watch the motion and you're close enough to him that you see how his pupils dilate at the movement. A breath escapes your mouth, a little pant of air that you desperately mask as a cough as you try to calm the racing of your heart, the flood of arousal that's pulsing through you.

"I'm glad you like the whisky," you say, your voice steady despite how your legs feel like they're about to give out. (Thank god you're sitting down.) "I'm sorry to have deprived you of it last week."

Yoongi's shifted so that he's leaning against the bar. He's standing while you're still sitting and you have to tilt your head back to look at him. "You did seem like you were in an awful hurry," he says, a teasing lilt to his tone, and yet his voice is still so low, deeper than you'd imagined.

Despite the levity in his words there's something heavy in his gaze. "Oh?" You can't help but react to it, helpless and unable to resist. "You noticed me leaving?"

Yoongi's eyes sharpen. Hooked. "Of course," he says. "You're the only thing I pay attention to when I'm here. You have been from the first night you walked in."

Your breath catches in your throat. You hadn't expected Yoongi to say something so forthright, to be so direct, more used to coy flirtation from the other people you've met in the past; it's like you've been dipped in cold water, a shock to the system, bracing and invigorating and refreshing.

"Oh," you say, at a loss with how to respond. Yoongi seems pleased to have gotten this reaction out of you, the corners of his lips curving upwards in a self satisfied smile.

"Besides," he adds, "I find it flattering that not only do you come here every week to watch me, you always make sure to make your appreciation known, too." He lifts the glass up and takes another drink, but this time he keeps his eyes locked on yours as he does, gaze unwavering as he finishes his drink. The rocks tumble over themselves as he sets the glass down on the bar, lower lip wet with a drop of whisky that lingers; his tongue sweeps across it and leaves a sheen, catching the light, shining. You can't tear your eyes away from the sight. "It would have been hard to ignore that even if I'd wanted to."

A shiver trickles down your spine. You'd really only ever meant it as a compliment, a quiet way to express your admiration about his craft, and you have to ask— "How long have you been playing the piano?"

This question seems to throw Yoongi off kilter. You see the way his lashes flutter as he blinks with surprise. "For as long as I can remember," he says, and then a small smile appears on his lips. "When I was young I had a toy piano that I constantly used to hammer at, so when I grew up a little, my parents bought the real thing so that I could learn how to play."

He sounds nostalgic and your heart squeezes in your chest. "You're self-taught, right?" You ask, remembering something Jin had told you before. 

Yoongi looks briefly startled. "Yes, I am," he says, and then his eyes narrow. "Did Jin tell you that?"

"Um, yeah." You squirm a little on the barstool. "Sorry, should I not have said anything about it?"

"No, no, you're okay. It's just that Jin says a lot of things, and I'm just wondering what else he said to you." Yoongi's tone is weirdly pained.

The concern is obvious on his face, and you wonder if Jin is to Yoongi what Jimin is to you— well-meaning but maybe a little overwhelming in their approach. 

"All good things, I promise. I love dogs, too." You smile up at Yoongi, who seems a little taken aback, and the smile starts to drop off your face. "Um. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." For all that Yoongi was smirking earlier, he seems a little unsure now. You feel confused, waiting as Yoongi clearly turns some thoughts over in his head, and then he says: "What exactly has Jin told you?"

You smile. You recognise that tone, the nonchalance that hides a little worry— it's exactly how you sound whenever you find out that Jimin has been speaking to someone about you, even if it's always positively. "Oh, just bits and pieces," you say. Feeling bold, you pat the barstool next to you, tilting your head invitingly. "Why don't you tell me about yourself instead so we can see if Jin was lying to me?"

Yoongi looks genuinely startled, his eyes widening imperceptibly before the expression wipes off his face as if nothing had happened. "Why not," he says, as if in equal parts to himself and to you, before he takes a seat.

Here's what you learn about Yoongi: he's intense, yes, and soft spoken, but as you continue to talk, he begins to loosen up, bit by bit. When he laughs he smiles so wide that his eyes squeeze shut and you can see his gums and you're so fucking endeared at the sight. He's sharp and smart and witty and just so, so intriguing. 

You prop your elbow on the bar and rest your cheek in your hand as he talks, wanting to take everything in, and you rapidly realise that Min Yoongi is less of an enigma than you'd thought, but just as complex as you'd expected— and you want to unravel that complexity. If he'll let you.

You've been talking for so long that the bar has started to empty out, patrons trickling away, the two of you so engrossed with each other that you barely notice. You find out that Jin and Yoongi are actually roommates, best friends, and that Jin is as chaotic as you'd expect and is also very good at drawing Yoongi into his shenanigans; you throw your head back to laugh at one of his stories, and when you catch your breath you find Yoongi looking at you, watching you with an expression on his face that makes you pause. He's been watching you intently all night, listening quietly whenever you talk, but this expression, this is new. He swallows.

"Can I ask something?"

You blink. "Sure, go ahead."

"Why did you keep coming back?" Yoongi asks, and that's not a question you'd been expecting at all.

"Uh," you say eloquently. "Well. Honestly? I couldn't stay away, I guess. I'm not really a musician, and I don't know a lot about the piano, but there's something in your music and the way you play— every song makes me feel something different and new, or reminds me of something I haven't felt, places I haven't been to, but I feel like I know somehow. Like I'm nostalgic for something that I haven't experienced, that doesn't exist. It's almost like you're taking my hand and showing me around some hidden part of the world that only you can see— like you've made it into music because that's the only way you can communicate it. How could I not come back after that?" You pause. "Um. Does that make sense? I feel like it didn't. Sorry?"

Yoongi's been watching you as you've been talking, silent, and by the time you've finished his mouth has fallen open a little. He stares at you for a few moments longer, and then he says: "Holy shit." And then he says: "Oh my God." And then he says: "What the fuck."

"… I guess it didn't make sense, then?" Despite the ease of your earlier conversation you suddenly feel awkward, laughing a little as your legs uncross so that you can shuffle to the edge of your barstool. Ready to hop up and make a quick get away if you need to. Run away from the embarrassment. "Um."

"Y/n," Yoongi says, and you realise with a start that you haven't introduced yourself to him throughout your whole conversation— Jin must have told him your name— but then he keeps talking. "I thought you just— I don't know, that you just kept coming back because of me. Not the music. Then Jin kept talking about you and—" 

He makes a frustrated noise at the back of his throat and runs a hand through his hair; you stare at his bared forehead, and it says about how attracted you are to him that the sight of his forehead is enough to set your heart racing. "I thought that maybe if I let this happen just one time that it would be enough, but now I don't think it will."

"Yoongi." You're confused, unsure if you've correctly understood what he's just said. "Let what happen one time? What are you talking about?"

"Touching you," Yoongi says. "Fucking you." His voice is a rasp and the sound of it, the sound of his words, shoots straight through you and into your core. "I thought the drinks were— I don't know, an invitation. But they weren't, were they? You really meant it. You really like my music. And me."

Yoongi's voice is hoarse and you come to the realisation that he feels tense. Like he can accept that you want to have sex with him, but he's bowled over by the idea that you're attracted to the other parts, too, as few of those as you know. That you genuinely enjoy what he plays. That you think it's the most beautiful sound you've ever heard.

"Yoongi," you say, tone deceptively gentle. "I really, really like your music, and I think you're an incredibly talented musician, and I've been memorising everything Jin's been telling me about you because I think you're one of the most interesting people I've ever come across and I'd really like to get to know more about you. So I'm really glad to have had the opportunity to talk to you like this." You gesture between the two of you, sitting as you are, facing towards each other on your barstools. And then you brace yourself to take the leap, to throw yourself into uncharted waters. "However, I am also insanely attracted to you and I've spent the past I-don't-know-how-many weeks picturing you bending me over that piano and fucking me so hard that I can't walk straight."

Yoongi freezes in the middle of rubbing the back of his neck, a clearly nervous habit. Though your voice has kept steady while you've been talking, your heart has been thrumming in your chest the whole time, feeling as nervous as Yoongi looks. Something flickers across his face, and his hand drops away from his neck as he straightens, pushing himself off from where he's been leaning against the bar.

"Oh?" He leans towards you. Your legs unthinkingly part as he moves, the material of your dress hitching up as you spread your knees so that he can get closer. "So you do want me to fuck you?"

His nervousness seems to be entirely gone, emboldened by your words. One of his hands comes up to cup the back of your head, fingers sliding into your hair as he holds you in place, at his mercy. He's barely touched you but the feeling of contact makes you bite back a whimper. Even though it's darker here and you're away from the tables, away from the few remaining patrons of the bar, the two of you are in plain sight even under the dimmed lights; you're not doing anything illicit or inappropriate but a little thrill trickles down your spine at the idea.

"Yoongi," you breathe.

"What is it, babygirl?" He tips his head down as he moves closer, his nose brushing yours, each of his words a warm curl across your lips. "Tell me."

The pet name sends a shiver through you. Your hands rise from your lap, sliding over his chest to touch lightly at his neck, a little shy, a little bold. "I want you to kiss me."

"Oh?" Yoongi's mouth is so close to yours, and when you tilt forward to kiss him, he stays just out of your reach, leaving you wanting. "You think you deserve a kiss, do you?"

You can't help but make a little noise, a petulant whine at the back of your throat. He has you entirely at his mercy and he knows it. "Please," you say. "Please, Yoongi, wanna kiss you so bad."

The smile he gives you in reply is wicked. "How can I say no when you've asked so politely?"

Yoongi finally, finally dips his head down and then he's kissing you with such intensity it steals the breath out of you. It's open-mouthed and wet and dirty, his tongue sliding into your mouth in between taking your top and bottom lips between his own, alternating, sucking on them and lapping at them with his tongue. You chase after his mouth with your own, roll your tongues together, hands sliding over the smooth skin of his throat as they circle behind his neck, but then Yoongi pulls away; you bite that needy whine back again, kiss cut short far sooner than you would have liked.

Yoongi is taking the sight of you in, eyes lingering on your shining lips, and then he's rising to stand. You're shaken out of your kiss-induced haze when he does, a little confused, but he takes your hand in his and you let him lift up, pressing a surprisingly tender kiss to the back of your knuckles.

"Do you want to get out of here?" His voice is pitched low, deep with a promise of pleasure to come, and you shiver.

"God, I thought you'd never ask," you say in a rush, and he just laughs quietly at your obvious desperation.

"Come on, then." He helps you off the barstool, your hand still in his— god, his hands are so big and his touch is so warm. His eyes are dark as he watches the way you reach to rearrange the hem of your dress with your free hand, but he beats you to it, palm flattening the material against your legs; his fingers dance just under the edge as he straightens it, hand sliding over the skin of your inner thigh and lingering before he pulls away.

"You're shameless," you say, a little breathless, and Yoongi just smirks at you. Tease.

Your fingers remain tangled with his as he leads you behind the bar and through the staff door. Jin's out back, scrolling through something on his phone, but as soon as you walk in he abandons whatever he's doing and raises his eyebrows. He looks surprisingly severe. "Customers aren't allowed back here."

Your eyes widen, but then Jin's serious expression cracks and he starts to laugh. Although he's joking and clearly doesn't care, you feel a little guilty at breaking the rules and duck behind Yoongi, shy. Yoongi snorts and holds a middle finger up at the bartender.

Jin gasps theatrically, clutching his chest while looking askance. "I raise you from birth and this is the thanks I get?"

"You're one year older than me, hyung."

"I carry you in my womb for nine months and birth you into this world and you— oh, okay, you technically shouldn't be doing that either," Jin says, stopping mid-sentence as Yoongi decides his hyung has been talking for too long and turns away from him to start kissing you again, shameless as he tugs you close to him and licks into your mouth; you immediately fall back into him, unable to resist. "Jesus Christ, Yoongi."

Once you part, you bury your head into Yoongi's chest as his arms come around you, hiding your embarrassment in Yoongi's dress shirt. "Sorry, Jinnie," you say, muffled.

"You are absolutely not to blame here, Y/n, you are an angel and a sweetheart." Jin's tone is soothing. "Yoongi, however, is a tiny evil gremlin who needs to learn how to control himself. Though I can't blame him, you are very cute."

"Hyung, I need the apartment tonight," Yoongi says without preamble. You wriggle in the circle of his arms. You're not normally this timid but Yoongi is just so direct and blasé with Jin that you can't help but feel a little shy, as hot and bothered as you are.

"I'll crash at Joon's," the bartender says. He’s obviously not surprised. You lift your head from Yoongi's chest to look at Jin and find that he's smiling at you. "If Yoongi starts to bother you, just whap him on the nose. I find a rolled up newspaper works best if you have one to hand."

"I'll kill you, Kim Seokjin," Yoongi says.

Jin just laughs as he waves the two of you off and you take the initiative to start pulling Yoongi towards the back door. He comes easily, but once the door has swung shut behind you he takes the lead again and guides you towards his car. He lets go of your hand so that he can unlock it, swinging the passenger door open for you, and he's unabashed in how he watches you step in and eyes the way your dress hitches up again as you slide into your seat; he leans against the car and just stares at you.

There's honestly nothing sexier when someone clearly wants you as much as you want them. It makes you feel bold, drunk on the way he looks at you. 

You glance up at him through your lashes. "The sooner we get to yours, the sooner you can have me," you say.

Yoongi curses under his breath. "You're going to be the death of me."

Surprisingly enough, though, he keeps his hands to himself when he gets behind the wheel. You can't help but feel a little surprised; you don't know how close Yoongi's home is to the bar, but you very rapidly tire of waiting to feel his hands on you again and so you lean over the centre console and press a fleeting kiss just behind his ear.

Yoongi doesn't outwardly react, continuing to stare at the road, so you take this as a challenge. You slide one of your hands onto his thigh— for balance, of course— and kiss behind his ear again, tug his lobe with your teeth, mindful of his piercings, and then proceed to trail little kisses down his neck and the little slither of his collarbone that you can reach without his shirt getting in the way. You finally get to lick your tongue in the hollow of his neck that you've been thinking about for weeks.

Yoongi's hands tighten on the steering wheel. Jackpot. 

"Y/n," he says, voice low, and you're so close to his throat that you can hear the rumble behind his words. You love it. "You should stop now, or we're not going to make it to my apartment."

You go still. Yoongi continues to look at the road but his knuckles are white with how hard he's gripping the wheel, and when you glance down you can see how much you've affected him, cock hardening in his slacks. It would be so easy to slide your hand up his thigh and finally touch him, have him pull over and wreck you, but you want something more than a quick fumble in the seat of a car. 

So you just press your lips lightly against the line of his jaw one last time. You let yourself breathe in the dark scent of his cologne— pinewood and pepper and something deeper— before you pull back, folding your hands in your lap demurely, trying to force yourself to be content with waiting.

"Good girl," Yoongi says. You can't help but preen; you don't normally respond to praise like this, but something about Yoongi just makes you want to please him, hear him compliment you again. Yoongi glances at you, a little flicker of realisation as he sees how you've just reacted to his words, and his eyes darken. "You like that, baby? Like being a good girl for me?"

Fuck. "Yes." Your pulse is rising. You've been craving Yoongi for weeks, but god, if he asked you to go home right now, sent you home without touching you, you'd go, just to hear him call you a good girl again. But you don't want him to leave you untouched, you don't want that at all. "I want you to touch me, Yoongi," you say. "I'll be a good girl, please just touch me."

"Fuck." Yoongi's foot presses down on the accelerator. He's never wanted to live closer to the bar before, but the sight of you staring at him from his passenger seat and rubbing your thighs together in a desperate attempt to give yourself some relief is making him rethink his housing location. "I will, baby. We'll be there soon."

Soon turns out to be less than five minutes, scarcely any time at all, though each second is torturous in how long it feels. Yoongi's careless in how he parks the car, wonky within the lines of his spot, but neither of you notice or care. You fumble with the buckle of your belt, climbing out of the car as quickly as you can and slamming the door shut with more power than you probably need to, noise loud in the quiet of the night.

Before you can react, however, Yoongi is rounding the car and grabbing you, pressing you against the metal and glass of the door. One of his hands slips under your thigh, lifting your leg and shoving the hem of your dress out of the way so that he can grind against you; you gasp at the feeling of his growing hardness against the dampness of your underwear, and Yoongi leans forward to swallow the sound into his mouth. 

The kiss is rushed and desperate, but you love the messiness of it. Yoongi pulls away to press his lips against the side of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw, your neck, mouthing at the jumping pulse he finds there. You start to make small ah-ah noises when he laves his tongue over it, one of your hands tangling in his hair as you tilt your head back, each of his touches fizzing like electricity on your skin.

"P-people could see," you stutter, struggling to catch your breath with how good his mouth feels on you.

Yoongi smirks against your skin. "I thought you wanted me to touch you," he says, but immediately relents, pulling away from you so he can lead you into the building. You miss the heat of his body against yours but he keeps hold of your hand as you follow him; it's late and the building seems quiet, so you're mindful of just how loud your high heels sound as they clack on the floor, though Yoongi doesn't seem to care.

When you step into the apartment you reach down for the straps on your shoes so you can kick them off but Yoongi stops you with a hand to your shoulder. It's a light touch but you stop immediately, glancing up from your feet to his face.

"Let me," he says, and a hot trickle of arousal runs down your spine at the tone of his voice. 

You straighten up and watch as Yoongi gets down on one knee, hands circling around your ankle and lifting your foot. You rest the toe of your shoe lightly on Yoongi's knee, watching as he undoes the strap around your ankle and slides the shoe off, setting it to one side, before he presses his lips to the inside of your knee. You shiver at the light touch and Yoongi smirks, letting your ankle go so you can move and he can take your other shoe off, too.

He barely takes his eyes off your face the whole time, only glancing down when he has to. His motions are slow and unhurried despite his earlier rush, carefully setting the second shoe next to the first, and you can't help but feel like he's teasing you— drawing out your reactions just because he can. Before you can say anything about it, though, his hands trail up from your calves to your thigh before he hitches your leg over his shoulder, one hand staying on your thigh as the other grips at your hip.

You bite back a gasp. From his angle Yoongi can see everything and he's looking up with hooded eyes, staring at the dark patch on your underwear, wet for him; his gaze trails across the lace of the lingerie you're wearing, the small colourful flowers blooming across the dark material. It was something you'd put on to complete your outfit, the matching panties and bra making you feel expensive and pretty— even if you hadn't expected anyone to see it.

"Look at you," he says, hand lowering from your hip to trace lightly across your slit; it's a barely-there touch, sensation dulled by the material in the way, but you still jolt at the feeling of it. "Did you wear this for me?"

"Of course," you confess. You've wanted his eyes on you for so long. "Always dress up pretty for you."

"Fuck." He sounds reverent. "You've always been such a good girl for me, haven't you?"

A needy noise rises unbidden at the back of your throat when Yoongi spreads your leg wider and leans forward to mouth at you through the lace of your panties. Your knees go weak and you have to lean back against the wall for balance, grateful at how close you are to it when Yoongi draws his tongue upwards, wetting the fabric, your toes curling.

"Yoongi." One of your hands is resting in his hair and you can't stop your grip from tightening. "Yoongi, please."

He gives you what you want, fingers hooking into your underwear and pulling it down; he lets your leg drop so that you can step out of them, but as soon as you've finished he throws the panties to one side, one hand splaying across your stomach as the other lifts your leg again so that you’re spread open for him, immediately pressing his mouth to your clit.

"Oh!" You gasp. Yoongi seems to have tired of his teasing and is eating you out like a man starved, the slick sound of his tongue and lips filling the apartment as he laves attention on your dripping pussy, staring up at you as he drinks your reactions in. He dips his tongue into you and your hips try to buck forwards but the hand on your stomach holds you in place, firm, and you let out an embarrassingly loud keen at how good it feels to be this powerless.

You slap your free hand across your mouth and try to swallow the noise down. Yoongi frowns and stops, leaning his head back as he looks at you; his mouth is shining with evidence of your arousal, opalescent. "I want to hear you."

You bite your lip, forcing your hand away from your mouth; you don't want to be too loud, too noisy, but you want to be a good girl for Yoongi. He wants to hear you so you'll give him what he wants.

"O-okay," you breathe, and Yoongi smirks up at you; it's filthy, how he's looking at you like that while his lips are wet with you. You tilt your hips towards him, desperate to have his mouth on you again, and he immediately complies.

He's lapping at your clit when the hand on your stomach moves and slides down. You watch as he takes his tongue off you so that he can curl it around his fingers instead, before running those fingers across your lower lips to gather the slick there, wetting them even further. You roll your hips into the sensation, loving the press of his slightly rough fingers against your silken folds, wanting more, eyes wide as you watch how Yoongi's hand trails between your legs.

He puts his mouth back on your clit at the same time as he presses one of those spit slick fingers into you. You're so turned on that the initial slide in is easy, but he still takes his time; he's distracting you with the way he's sucking at your small bundle of nerves but you still feel when he presses his second finger in, longer than yours, the sensation of it even better than you'd dreamed.

He crooks his fingers and you throw your head back against the wall, dull thud barely registering over the sensation of Yoongi inside you. He sees how you react and continues to move his fingers in the same way, thrusting his fingers in and curling them as he pulls out, watching as you writhe; the pleasure inside you has been growing, the feeling building, and if Yoongi keeps doing that then you're going to cum. "I'm close," you gasp.

Yoongi responds to this by pushing a third finger inside you, rubbing his fingertips directly over your sweet spot. The stretch burns, just a little, but God, you love it. He purses his lips over your clit and flicks his tongue over it at the same time as he curls his fingers again and it undoes you; your spine arches away from the wall as you cum, ripples of pleasure sparking through your body as you tighten around Yoongi's fingers, sobbing almost deliriously at how good it feels.

Yoongi watches you the whole time, keeps his mouth on you as you ride out your high. He only moves away when you start to jolt from oversensitivity, pulling his fingers out carefully as he does. You feel empty without them inside you and you can't wait for him to fill you up with something better instead.

Yoongi holds you steady, his grip firm as you slip your leg from his shoulder and shakily push yourself off the wall. Once you've gotten your balance he stands up— his knees must hurt but he doesn't complain, too busy watching you lift his fingers to your lips, sucking them into your mouth so you can lick the taste of yourself off him.

"Jesus Christ." Yoongi stares at the way you flick your tongue across his skin, glancing at him coquettishly through your lashes. You reach out for him, hands moving towards his belt, but he shakes his head. "Bedroom," he says.

Of course you follow him. At any other time you'd be taking in the details of the apartment, the glimpses you get into the other rooms, but you're too busy looking at Yoongi to have a mind for anything else. He's been hard for so long by now that it must be driving him crazy and you want to give him what he wants. What he needs.

He swings a door open and flicks a light on. Yoongi's room is what you'd expected: neat and organised, with dark furnishings, the only mess being a few scrunched up balls of paper that have overflowed the trash-bin by his desk, which has a pile of notepads next to his laptop and a set up of musical equipment that looks far too complex for you to make heads or tails of. 

You forget about this instantly, however, when Yoongi captures your lips in another kiss, a hand splaying across your jaw so that he can control the pace, crowding you towards the bed until the back of your knees make contact with it and you fall onto the mattress. Yoongi cages you in with his arms and keeps kissing you, though when you palm him through his slacks he hisses through his teeth.

"Want you, Yoongi." You use your hand to stroke over the hardness of him as you nip at his lower lip. "Please."

"Fuck, of course, babygirl." Yoongi leans back and you move with him, sitting up as he stands straight. He unbuttons his shirt and you help him slide it off his shoulders, using it as an excuse to run your hands over the pale skin he reveals to you, sliding your palms down his chest and over his stomach; you dip your head to kiss where your hands have traced, letting your tongue flick across his skin. You lick shamelessly at one of his nipples and feel drunk on the way he lets out a surprised little breath, turning your head to do the same to his other nipple as your hands finally reach their goal: his belt.

You deftly unbuckle it, fast enough that the leather makes a snapping noise when you pull it, and Yoongi bites back a laugh— under normal circumstances you might be embarrassed by how obvious you're being, but you're desperate to finally touch him, especially after he'd made you cum as hard as he had. You look up at him as you reach for his zipper but falter when you notice that he's staring at you with something akin to awe, lifting your lips off his skin.

"What?" You ask, suddenly feeling shy.

Yoongi doesn't respond verbally. Instead, he quirks a little grin at you before he cups your face with both hands and bends down to kiss you again, deeper and slower than he has before. You match his pace, the two of you tilting your heads to get a little closer, but when you continue to pull Yoongi's zip down he laughs against your lips and you smile. He gets the hint, stepping back so he has room to kick his trousers and underwear off; he's not trying to be sensual about it, moving fast so he can get close to you again, but you're enraptured nonetheless.

You swallow at the sight of his cock when it’s finally freed. It's flushed red from neglect, fully hardened, curving up towards his stomach, and you can see how the head glistens with precum, slick and wet. Saliva floods your mouth. Yoongi looks briefly startled when you put your hands against his hips and lightly push him backwards, but then you slide off the bed and onto your knees in front of him and the shock immediately disappears from his face, tangling a hand in your hair as you settle in place.

He's so hard that you don't feel like teasing him. Instead, you take the precum that's gathered at the tip of his cock and rub it down his length, hand wrapping around and twisting as you dip forwards and take the flushed head into your mouth. You can't swallow him all the way down, thanks to your gag reflex, but you give it a damn good go— you relax your throat as much as you can as you lower your head, using your hand to touch the parts of his cock that aren't in your mouth. You tongue at the vein on the underside as you lift back up, using your free hand to cup his balls, and Yoongi curses, his hand tightening in your hair as he pulls you off.

You blink up at him in surprise, mouth still open after he's slid out of your mouth— you feel like you'd barely started— and you can see how his cock twitches as he drinks the sight of you in.

"That mouth of yours is downright sinful," he says, running his thumb over your lower lip. You go lax under his touch, which seems to please him. "As much as I'd like to cum down your throat, I think you want something else instead, don't you, babygirl?"

Your breath shudders out of you and you nod. You want Yoongi's cock inside you, itching for him to finally fuck you stupid, the way you've been yearning for so long. "God, yes, please."

Yoongi's lips twitch at your shameless desperation. "Stand up then, baby," he says, and you comply. "Turn around."

You turn towards the bed to show Yoongi your back, and he slowly unzips your dress; it slides off your shoulders easily, slipping down your body and pooling on the floor as Yoongi drags his hands over the revealed skin. You tremble under his touch, sensitive to each of his motions as he unclasps your bra, and finally you're entirely unclothed, lingerie carelessly tossed to one side before Yoongi pulls you close.

Your back is pressed to his chest, and you can feel the heat and hardness of his cock pressing against you, but you forget about that when his hands move to cup your breasts, rubbing his thumbs over your nipples. You tilt your head back against his shoulder and he takes the opportunity to kiss down your neck, using his tongue to lick down the bared length of it, and your breath hitches in your throat as he pinches one of your nipples between his fingers, the perfect mix of careful roughness.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," Yoongi breathes into the crook of your neck. You whimper and grind back against him, feeling the wetness of his cock as it slips against your skin, and he bites back a groan.

"Yoongi, I need you," you say, so close to finally getting what you've been craving for so long. "Please," you add, voice high with desperation.

You feel how Yoongi bares his teeth against your skin in a silent snarl before he's turning you around in his arms, and you squeal in surprise as he hitches you upwards onto the bed, your head falling onto the pillows. It wasn't a rough motion, Yoongi still careful even when he's clearly as hungry for you as you are for him, but you find yourself whimpering at how he's manhandled you, loving it. Seems like he's helping you discover things about yourself that you hadn't realised before now.

Yoongi settles between your legs, staring down at you, bare and helpless underneath him. You reach out your hand to touch his chest, sweeping your fingers down the line of his stomach and over the trail of dark hair that leads down to his weeping cock, still shining with your spit. He curses, leaning over you to paw at his nightstand drawer; he fumbles with the lube and condom when you wrap your fingers around his length again, stroking him hard and slow.

"Yoongi, please," you say again, practically begging, wanting him inside you as quickly as possible. He curses under his breath again but then wraps his fingers around yours, pulling your hand off his cock. You pout at him. "I've been a good girl, haven't I?"

"Good girls are patient." Yoongi leans back on his heels and you make a small whining noise, but you quieten when you watch him rip open the condom packet; you reach forward again to help him roll it down his cock, wanting to keep the feeling of his hardness and heat under your touch, but he fixes you with a stern gaze. "Hands."

You pause, wondering exactly what he means. You settle on pulling your hands away and stretch up to let them rest on the pillow above you. You must have done the right thing because Yoongi smiles, and you give a squirm of delight. He shifts closer and hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, turning his head to kiss your inner ankle.

"So perfect," he says, and you squirm again, pleased. He reaches for the bottle of lube and uncaps it with a quiet click, drizzling it directly onto his cock and biting back a noise at the coldness of it— but then he squirts more into his hands, warming it between his fingers. You make a small questioning sound, and Yoongi smiles before kissing your ankle again. "This is for you, baby."

Your eyebrows raise in quiet surprise. You're already so wet, dripping with a mix of your own cum and Yoongi's lingering spit, but he's still being this careful and considerate. He dips his slick fingers between your flushed lips and draws them upwards, making you arch your back as he grazes over your pearl of nerves, pleasure shooting directly into your core. 

"Oh, fuck," you gasp. "God, please, Yoongi, please."

"I've got you, babygirl," he murmurs, and you marvel at his self control, his restraint even now. He grips your leg with one hand and uses the other to guide himself into you. Finally. You moan as he sinks in, stretching you, slowly pushing in inch by inch; you can feel the way your walls stretch, parting for him, until he's bottomed out, and you feel so full.

"Holy shit, Yoongi." You've moved your hands and you're digging your nails into his back, trying to pull him closer even though it's not possible, Yoongi's cock so long that you can feel it filling you completely. "Oh, God."

Yoongi's fringe is hanging in his eyes but you can see how his pupils have almost swallowed the dark of his irises, the way he's drinking in the sight of you beneath him— your pupils are blown too, hair a messy halo against the pillows, nipples hard from arousal, chest heaving as you hiccup in air. He pulls out, just as slowly as he'd pushed in, the drag of his cock against your inner walls sending electricity shooting through your nerves; he stops before he's completely out, only the head of him still inside you, and you bite your lip in anticipation, waiting for the next slow thrust in.

You're completely blindsided when Yoongi snaps his hips forward suddenly, fucking sharply into you, and you choke on a surprised breath. He sets a brutal pace, the sound of his skin slapping against yours almost drowned out by the way you wail. Your hands fall away from his back and to the sheets, fingers gripping at them, twisting under your hands. His brows are drawn together with focus, but when you raise a hand up to touch his face he goes easily, letting your leg slip off his shoulder so he can kiss you.

His motions slow somewhat as you kiss each other, but he keeps the roll of his hips just as deep, and you end up all but panting against his mouth instead of kissing him; he swipes his tongue across your lips and you let them fall open so he can lick into your mouth, sloppy and wet. You can feel an orgasm building again, surprisingly fast— especially as he's not even touching your clit— and you clench around him, wanting to hit that peak again.

Yoongi stops kissing you to rest his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes as he slows his thrusts, grinding into you each time he pushes all the way in, hips flush with yours. "Such a good girl." His voice is a low rasp, dark and heavy. "So pretty for me."

Yes, yes, yes. "Wanna be your good girl," you breathe. "Make you feel as good as you make me feel."

Yoongi actually growls, wrapping his hands around your waist and pulling you up. You grab his shoulders for support, legs spreading so that your knees hit the mattress, his cock still inside you as you look down at him, both of you kneeling now. Your breasts are pressed against his chest, stomachs flush, and Yoongi grinds up into you. His hands slide from your waist, to your ass, fingers digging into your flesh as he pulls you up; the change of angle has the curve of his cock dragging right across your sweet spot and you gasp. "Oh, yes, there, just like that."

You press down as Yoongi's hips snap up, and you can feel how his motions are starting to get a little jerkier, staccato, the way he speeds up. With the drag of your nipples against his chest, and the way he's hitting your g-spot dead on each time, you're close to hitting your peak, pleasure riding up into a crescendo— and then Yoongi slides one of his hands between the two of you to rub at your clit and you're gone again, gasping and shaking as your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, all the air escaping your lungs in a drawn out, shuddering wail.

"Fuck, baby." Yoongi's motions grow a little more hurried and sloppy, thrusting up into you as your walls pulsate around him. You try to match his pace, drinking down the way his face twists as he chases his own release— and then his grip on you grows tight enough to bruise and he cums with a surprisingly quiet moan. He grinds upwards, his cock twitching inside you as he empties himself into the condom; you shiver at the sensation, squeezing your legs around his hips in an instinctive attempt to draw him as deeply into you as possible, as futile as that is.

Your legs are shaking. You remain tangled around each other, sweaty and panting, but then Yoongi is grasping your chin and tilting your head down so that he can kiss you. It's soft, and gentle, and you melt into it, going lax and boneless in his hold as you tighten your hands in his hair. 

You feel how he smiles tiredly against your lips, and when you pull back, he looks thoroughly fucked out; his hair is a mess from how you've been running your hands through it and lips are kiss swollen, parted so that he can suck air in and try to catch his breath. You must look similarly wrecked. You feel hazy, though Yoongi feels solid beneath you, grounding you as you slowly come back to yourself.

"I'm going to lean you back, beautiful," he says, and you entwine your fingers together behind his neck so that he can tilt you onto the mattress, careful and reverent. He slips his softening cock out of you and you let out a small sigh at the sudden feeling of emptiness, though as soon as he's done tying the condom off and throwing it in the bin he comes back to you, lightly kissing you as he draws a hand gently between the valley of your breasts. Despite the tenderness behind the motion you're suddenly struck with wondering if he's about to ask you to leave, but then he asks: "Do you want to come wash up?"

You pause. "Oh, God, my makeup," you say with sudden realisation as your fingers come up to touch under your eyes. Your eyeshadow and mascara must be a mess by now. You splay your hand across your face, as if trying to hide it— which you know is stupid, especially considering the fact the rest of your body is naked under Yoongi's gaze. He huffs out a laugh and takes your hands with his own, pulling them away. "Nooo," you whine. "Don't look at me."

One of Yoongi's eyebrows rises. "Why would I ever want to look away from you?"

You wriggle. "Yoongi," you whine again, equal parts pleased and embarrassed, but you let your hands go limp and Yoongi pulls you to your feet. "You're shameless."

"And you're gorgeous," he says, simply. "Come on, you'll get cold."

Yoongi lets you clean up first. It's weird how comfortable you are as you navigate your way around Yoongi and Jin's bathroom— you pilfer one of Jin's makeup wipes to clean your face— and how natural it feels to accept the shirt Yoongi gives you, an oversized, stretched-out old thing that's gone soft from years of wear. You're perched on the bathroom counter as you slide it on, glancing down at the design on the front, and you instantly perk up when you see what it is.

"You do love Kumamon," you say with delight. 

Yoongi stops in the middle of brushing his teeth, looking a little ridiculous with the minty froth around his lips but still just as kissable. He rinses his mouth and spits, wiping his lips with a towel before he makes a face at you.

"Jin told you about that, too?"

"I want to see your slippers," you say in reply and Yoongi groans. You can't help but giggle, feeling sleepy and soft and affectionate, and you touch your fingers under Yoongi's chin so that you can press a quick kiss to his lips. "I think it's cute."

By the time you've both finished your ablutions and you slide off the counter, you feel tired, what little energy you had after being fucked by Yoongi completely gone from you; you slide onto Yoongi's bed gratefully, glad to be off your feet. You hold your hands up and beckon for him to join you, but then let out a sharp laugh of surprise when he tugs his rumpled blanket off the bed from underneath you and lets it drop to the floor. "Yoongi!"

"I'll be right back," he says. While you wait, you decide to stretch, eyes slipping shut as you extend your limbs. You know you'll feel the ache between your legs tomorrow, a little thrill skating through you at the knowledge that Yoongi's touch has left a physical reminder, something only you can feel and no one else can see.

When your eyes flutter open again, you see Yoongi standing at the bottom of the bed, a different blanket gathered in his arms. He's staring at you, and you realise that the material of his shirt has moved as you've stretched, hitching up over your hips. Even though you're both tired, Yoongi's eyes still darken when you shift your legs, and you bask under his attention.

"A different blanket?" You ask, curious, and Yoongi's eyes slide away from your still-bare core back up to your face.

"It's Jin's," he says. "I wasn't about to let you sleep on sweaty sex sheets."

"I don't mind," you say, honestly, but Yoongi proceeds to lay Jin's blanket across the bed anyway. "Jin's not going to be happy about this," you add, but you say it with a laugh, instantly curling up into Yoongi when he lays down beside you.

"He'll live." Yoongi's arm comes around you, fingers trailing over your shoulder; you lapse into silence and let your eyes shut, focusing on Yoongi's movements. It feels like he’s pressing piano keys down and playing a silent song against your skin. You can't help but smile, starting to drift off, when Yoongi speaks again. "Let me take you out for breakfast."

"Hm?" Your eyes open and you blink away your sleepiness to look up at Yoongi, who's still watching you. "Breakfast?"

"Yes." Yoongi's fingers still on your shoulder, and then he slides his hand down to tangle your fingers with his. "Or lunch. Or dinner. Whichever you prefer." He pauses. "Unless you don't want to," he says, and though his voice stays steady, you see a flicker of nervousness in his eyes. He's worried that you've gotten what you want and now you'll be done with him.

"You're so silly," you say softly, and you can see how Yoongi's face twists with confusion, unsure about how to react to being called silly— you can't imagine many people have said that to him, as outwardly intimidating as he can be. You squeeze his hand. "Of course I want to. But how about we plan it tomorrow? I don't know how long it's going to take me to be comfortable with walking in a straight line, so breakfast might be off the cards for now."

After a moment, Yoongi's face takes on a satisfied expression. "That's what you said you wanted," he says, and you huff out an amused breath.

"I technically said I wanted you to bend me over a piano, actually," you point out, letting your head settle in the crook of his neck again, and Yoongi brushes his lips against your forehead.

"There's a piano in the living room," he states casually, and you can't help the shiver that runs through you, even as your eyes start to fall shut again.

"I'll keep that in mind."

–

jiminnie y/n!! tae said you called in sick for work? are you okay??

you i'm good! just a lil busy

jiminnie with what?

you [image attached]

jiminnie … why have you sent me a photo of a piano?

you yoongi's gonna fuck me on it omg on that note i've gtg BYE LOVE YOU MINNIE xoxoxo

jiminnie WHAT??? OMG??? GET THAT DICK QUEEN!!!

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts x reader #bts smut #suga x reader #joy.masterlist

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

By Your Doorstep (Part 4)

Summary: The reader and Dean celebrate Tessa’s birthday with a big surprise before making a drastic change to their relationship...

Pairing: Doctor/Neighbor!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 4,100ish

Warnings: language, angst, mentioned past sexual assault (not graphic)

A/N: Parts of this series are told from two different POV’s. Dean’s POV are written from limited third person. Reader’s POV are second person (like a typical reader insert). Enjoy!…

_________

Dean’s POV

Two Weeks Later

“Oh fuck yeah!” said Dean, jumping up and down in the driveway as he read over the letter in his hands. 

“Dr. Dean that’s a bad word,” said Emily, the five year old three houses down. Dean slapped a hand over his face as she rode past on her bike, her father laughing to himself.

“Hope it’s good news, Dean,” said Chris.

“Very. Sorry about that,” said Dean, Chris waving him off as Dean jogged back inside. He read over the letter again and looked through the packet. “Alright. As long as you keep a B average or above you’re golden kiddo. You get straight A’s anyways so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

Dean smiled and gathered up all of the documents, getting them together with Tessa’s birthday present. Y/N had tried to tell him that giving away his old iPhone was too much but all it did was sit in a drawer now when it worked perfectly fine. He was pretty sure she wasn’t going to be thinking about the phone at all once she found out about the grant.

He looked back at the bag on the table and frowned. Maybe she’d take it the wrong way, like he was trying to save her sister or their family or something like that. He could have given them the application and had them fill it out. They would have probably gotten it still. Dean knew his letter he’d included didn’t hurt but he didn’t want to be that guy. He was already a doctor, already helped Y/N with a job, already paid for dates and things. It was no issue for him at all and he knew she didn’t care about the money but he didn’t want to rub it in her face that he could help more than she could.

Dean grabbed his phone and called Cas, Sam stuck in some network client thing all night he’d told him. It rang a few times before it picked up, the echo in the background telling him he was on speaker.

“Deano!” said Benny. “Gonna make it over tonight after all?”

“Hey guys,” said Dean, sitting down on his couch. “You got the crew together?”

“Nah, just us and the girls. They’re still out shopping. What’s up?” asked Cas.

“You know Y/N?” asked Dean.

“The girl you’re clearly in love with? Yes we know her,” laughed Benny. Dean was quiet and heard them shift on the other end.

“Everything okay?” asked Cas.

“I think I fucked it up. I think I’m going too far too fast.”

“What do you mean?” asked Benny.

“Tessa, her little sister, she’s in high school and I applied for a grant on her behalf for her college and she got it,” said Dean.

“That’s a problem how?” asked Cas.

“I don’t want it to come off as me trying to save them or anything. I’m nervous she’s gonna get mad at me,” said Dean. His friends were quiet and knew a teasing comment wouldn’t come. “Guys.”

“Tell her you applied on a long shot and a grant is what helped you with school. You’re not saving the day, just sharing a benefit you got,” said Benny. “Shit I wish I’d had someone do that for me.”

“What’s going on Dean? You’re normally the last person to freak over shit,” said Cas. Dean sat back and stared up at the ceiling. 

“Talk to us bud,” said Benny.

“I like this girl and it’s been years and years since I had a girlfriend. You guys know I’m not good for more than a fuck,” said Dean.

“Lisa was a super bitch and you know that’s not true,” said Benny.

“I am in my thirties and I’ve never had a real relationship. I don’t even know how. I’m gonna fuck this up so bad. I know it.”

“Contrary to how often I call you a dick, you are one of the best people I’ve ever met,” said Cas.

“I agree and you know all our friends and especially Sammy would say the same thing. Brother you gotta relax. This girl from what you’ve said and everybody else says, well we ain’t never seen you so happy so stop freaking, go get ready for your date tonight and put some faith in this girl that she’s not gonna hurt you back,” said Benny.

“I didn’t say-”

“Dean, we’ve known you forever. We know when you’re scared. I know most people in your life end up hurting you but take it from us, not everyone will. I got a good vibe from her,” said Cas. 

“Me too,” said Dean quietly.

“You doing okay?” asked Benny. “In general you know.”

“Yeah. Most of the time I’m great now. The past few weeks have been awesome. I think maybe that’s why I keep freaking out over this girl. It’s like, fucking finally, I understand what a good relationship can be.”

“You been to Ketch lately?” asked Cas.

“No, not as a patient. I’m okay.”

“Well still go for a tag up every once in a while for us,” said Benny.

“I know. Never would have gone without you assholes getting on my back in the first place.”

“That’s what friends are for,” said Cas, Benny chuckling. “So where you guys going tonight?”

“Monico’s.”

“Fancy,” they both said and Dean rolled his eyes, smiling to himself.

“Goodbye assholes,” said Dean, hearing them laugh before he hung up. He sat up and took a deep breath. “Alright. Shower. Shave and fingers crossed tonight goes well.”

Reader’s POV

“Okay, presents before or after dinner?” you asked as you carried in a bag to Tessa’s room. 

“Before, obviously,” she said. 

“Alright, well I know you wanted something really badly this year,” you said. “Why don’t you open the green one first?”

“This feels like an iPhone box…” she said with a big smile. She tore off the paper and grinned. “Awesome! What one is it?”

“It’s a ten. It’s used but in really good condition. I got you a case and extra charger too,” you said. “We can swing to the store and activate it tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Y/N, really,” she said. She grabbed the card next and her eyes went wide when she saw the cash inside. “Y/N.”

“It’s your money you gave me. It’s yours. Buy whatever you want, okay?” you said. She nodded and unwrapped a few more small things, a book she’d been talking about, some make up you knew she’d use, a new pair of her nike running shorts that’d been on sale thankfully. You smirked when she picked up the last two presents in the bag. “Alright. I hope these are...suitable for you.”

She tore off the wrapping on one and started to laugh.

“It’s hot pink,” she giggled. “Why is it hot pink?”

“Cause vibrators come in a variety of colors,” you said with a laugh. “I will let you read through the charging instructions on your own and same for the other box. There is toy cleaner because yes you need to wash these things properly and I got some water based lube. Go with water based. It dries up faster but it works better to me. Oh and wash everything like five times before it goes anywhere near anything, okay?”

“Okay,” she laughed. “I can’t believe you actually bought me this stuff.”

“Can’t get pregnant off a toy,” you said.

“Definitely can’t do that,” said Dean, Tessa wide eyed as he popped his head into the doorway. She shoved the boxes back into the bag and he laughed. “I’m a doctor. Sex doesn’t bother me and I think your sister has a point.”

“Oh my God, I forgot he was here,” she said, running her hands over her face.

“I was wondering where you two ran off to,” he said. He stepped inside and pulled out a box from behind his back. “Happy birthday, Tessa.”

“Thanks,” she blushed. She undid the bow and paper, smiling as she opened the box. There was an envelope inside but she picked up the headphones and shook her head. “Dean I can’t accept this. It’s too much. I already know the iPhone must have been yours.”

“You are smarter than you look,” he said. “But I can’t accept your refusal of my present. I have new ones and those never get used and I’m bigger than you so you’re gonna lose this argument one way or the other.”

“I’d listen to him, Tessa. He gets his way when he wants it,” you said. She rolled her eyes but smiled.

“Thank you. People haven’t been nice to us the past couple years,” she said. You glanced down to the floor, Dean leaving his arm wrapped around your waist. 

“People weren’t all that nice to me either for a long time,” he said with a nod. “Someday when you’re able, you help somebody else out, understand?”

“Yeah,” she said with a nod.

“Open the envelope. This one’s a present to you both,” he said. You cocked your head as she tore it open, reading for a long time before she pulled out a paper and handed it to you.

“Dean,” you said, sitting down on her bed after you’d read it a few times. “Dean this…”

“It’s a grant. It’s very similar to a scholarship. I’m an alumni of Elmdale and the medical school there. Tessa you qualify and so I applied on your behalf a few weeks ago and you were accepted. The grant will cover half of four years of tuition,” he said.

“What does that mean?” asked Tessa.

“It means we will have to pay very little with financial aid,” you said. She was beaming and you shook your head. “You applied weeks ago?”

“After I met you two. This house seemed familiar to me for some reason until I remembered. Y/N I told you someone helped me when I was eighteen?”

“Yeah?”

“I think his picture is hanging in the hall,” he said.

“Our dad?” asked Tessa.

“He got me a job and helped me pay for part of my school. I came here once when I needed his help. Your father was a very good man and it’s clear his daughters are the same. Neither one of you deserves to go through all the pain I did. I don’t want you to. It was no trouble at all to do, I swear.”

“Tessa, I work at Dean’s office as a lab tech,” you said. She turned her head and you saw Dean nod. “I lost my job before. We were scraping by. Barely. We’re okay now but without this grant...it would have wiped out our inheritance. That was for weddings and down payments for houses. We can keep it now...we can keep the house now.”

“You hate this house though,” she said. “I hate this house.”

“Tessa-”

“We can downsize,” she said. “Y/N, every night you stare down at their bedroom door. It’s like we live with ghosts or something. It doesn’t have to be so tight. Do we really need a five bedroom house?”

“It’s not as tight anymore. We’ll talk about it. Let’s go celebrate all the good news,” you said. “I’ve been dying for a Monico’s steak.”

“She seemed pretty happy tonight,” said Dean as you sat on the front porch a few hours later. You hummed and rocked in your seat beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Did I overstep?”

“No. You were the boy in the mailroom, weren’t you. Dad used to talk about you sometimes. Mostly when I didn’t want to do something. He told me some people my age have it so much harder.”

“True. But you can’t compare one person’s struggles to another’s. It’s not fair to either one.”

“Would you sell this house if you were me?” you asked.

“I like that you live close by. I’d miss that. But it’s a lotta house for the two of you and it sounds like a change might be a good thing. You could downsize to somewhere else in the neighborhood and probably bank a good chunk of money for later on.”

“We could.” Dean was quiet, gears turning in his head. “What are you thinking of?”

“My house is a five bedroom too.”

“Yours is also newer,” you said. “And bigger.”

“Tell me if I’m crossing a line but...you guys...could stay there if you decided to sell this place. Temporarily. Or not temporarily,” he said. You stared up at him and he looked away. “Like I said, I’m sorry, I know it’s...I should go.”

“Hey. I’m not afraid of you.” His head turned back towards you and he swallowed thickly. “Tell me another secret and I’ll you one.”

“I think I I’m falling in love with you and I’m afraid I’m going too fast and that you think I’m creepy or weird deep down and I’m up to something when all I really see is me and my brother in you and your sisters places and I know how much it sucks and how much it hurts and I know you protect her from stuff she doesn’t even know about. I’m sorry for saying that about the house just now. I’d still like to see you though if that’s okay.”

“I think this is fast too but I also think that part of me fell for you the day you carried her home. You don’t want anything from us. Just to help and it’s not because you pity us or anything like that. If I’ve learned anything yet in life it’s that you don’t know when it’s gonna stop and there’s no use in wasting time.”

“What are you saying?”

“You willing to put up with a teenager, a service dog and someone who has not had a moment to themselves in two years?”

“As long as you don’t snore,” he smiled. You laughed and kissed his cheek. “Are you serious?”

“I don’t like this house anymore. If she doesn’t want it, I don’t want it. Maybe we can do some test runs, stay over for a weekend or two, see if we want to make it a not temporary thing.”

“That sounds great,” he smiled. “We’ll figure it out, sweetheart.”

Two Months Later

“I’m home,” you said on the way back from the store. You’d been staying at Dean’s for two weeks now after a nice couple closed on your old house. So far it’d been great and you were perfectly happy to stay there with him and Tessa for the foreseeable future. “I picked up some-”

“He is not my dad. I am eighteen,” said Tessa as she stormed over to the foyer. You glanced back to where Dean was over in the kitchen and sighed. “I want to go to Paulie’s tonight.”

“Who is Paulie?” you asked as you kicked off your boots.

“A friend,” she said.

“You’ve literally never mentioned him before,” you said, carrying some groceries through the family room and to the kitchen.

“That’s what I said,” said Dean as he peeled a potato at the island.

“I thought I said you’re not my dad so you can shut the fuck up.”

“Hey!” you shouted, Tessa freezing up. “Apologize to Dean.”

“He-”

“We are stable for the first time ever because of him. I trust Dean to make decisions for you when I’m not home. If he said no, then the answer is no. Go to your room,” you said. She grumbled and pounded her feet upstairs. You washed up and gripped the countertop. “I’m sorry. I can’t believe she said that to you.”

“It’s okay. I’ll be the bad guy,” he said as he picked up another potato. “Paulie what’s his face doesn’t sound like he wants anything other than in her pants so she can swear all she likes at me.”

“What’d she say exactly?”

“She wants to go over to Paulie’s tonight to hang out with some friends but I overheard her and Hailey talking earlier this week about a party and I don’t need a medical degree to put it together.”

“If she sneaks out I’ll kill her,” you said. You glanced down to Toast’s dog bowl and paused. “Dean what would happen if she drank on her medication.”

“She can’t drink alcohol on that stuff,” he said. 

“What would happen if she did.”

“She could have a seizure,” he said. 

“Tessa!” you shouted. You jogged upstairs and found her bedroom empty. “Tessa!”

The house was quiet and you put your hands on your head. 

“Toast!” you shouted, the dog trotting out from Dean’s bedroom. You immediately ran inside, Dean already upstairs and you saw her sitting out on the balcony in a chair, her face in her knees. 

“Can I…” said Dean and you nodded. You followed him outside, Dean walking over and squatting by her seat. “Tessa, what are you doing out here?”

“I wish I was normal, didn’t have a fucked up head.”

“I got one too,” he said.

“Do you have to take medicine for seizures? No?” she said.

“No but my dad used to beat me up,” he said. She turned and he nodded. “He would try to beat up my little brother too sometimes but I would take the hits when I could. Tessa, you can’t drink when you’re on your medicine. You just can’t.”

“I know that,” she said.

“You can’t sneak out and leave Toast behind either. It’s not safe.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Y/N and I get scared too is all.”

“You just pretend to like me cause you fuck my sister.”

“For the record, I don’t fuck your sister. Relationships are complicated. You might not realize this but I care about you for you. If I didn’t I would not want you in my house, in our house, and I wouldn’t get scared about you going to parties with guys that just want to use you for sex. I give a shit about you Tessa whether you believe me or not.”

“You don’t care,” she scoffed. “You feel sorry for us. Nobody on earth would ask two strangers to move in unless you-”

“Tessa you can think whatever you want about me. I’m not your father and I’ll never try to be him. But I sure as shit know how to be an older brother. So be pissed off and be rude and whatever else you want to. I’ve done this before with my own brother. You don’t scare me. The only thing that does is you getting taken advantage of or you getting hurt and Toast isn’t there to help. Someday you’ll get it through that thick skull of yours what the truth is but until then, I’ll be the asshole who doesn’t let you go to parties you’ll get hurt at.”

“You pity us.”

“I’m jealous of you.” She stared at him and you swallowed in the doorway. “Your parents loved you. Mine didn’t. You want to talk about being fucked up? I’m here anytime.”

She nodded and he sat up on the bench with her. You went inside and finished preparing the potatoes, mashing them up and saving them for later. It was nearly ten by the time you heard the stairs creak and Dean walked down them.

“Y/N,” said Tessa. You got up from the couch and walked to the bottom of the stairs, Tessa glancing down. “I’m sorry for how I’ve acted today and treated Dean lately. I was…”

“It’s okay,” he said quietly as he rubbed her back.

“I was scared when we moved in here a few weeks ago. I don’t want to lose you too and Dean takes up time that it used to be just us and I know the accident wasn’t my fault but I feel guilty still sometimes and I know your life is different because of it too and I want you guys to be happy, I do. I just get scared you’ll forget about me. I don’t wanna be alone. I’m not ready.”

“You don’t ever have to be alone, Tessa,” you said. She nodded and looked up at Dean.

“I know. I was silly. But I’m better now,” she said. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” you said.

“I know,” she said. 

“Why don’t you head to bed, Tess. Tomorrow I can come to your session with you like we talked about,” said Dean. She nodded and walked upstairs, Toast trotting into her room. You walked upstairs and into your bedroom with Dean, shutting the door after yourselves. “I should have...change is difficult on kids with PTSD. I should have realized that’s why she’s been so snippy. I thought it was just hormones.”

“Probably both,” you said, climbing onto the bed. He lay down next to you, staring up at the ceiling. “You care for her.”

“You two are a package deal, sweetheart,” he said with a light chuckle. “Can’t love one without loving the other.”

“Like you and Sam,” you smiled. “I can’t wait to meet him in person.”

“Me too.”

“Is Tessa okay? You guys talked a really long time.”

“She was afraid I would replace her, push her out. Granted I do like spending alone time with you and everything but she needs you and I’m not here to take you away from her. I think she understands that now.”

“Dean why haven’t we had sex?” you asked. He sat up and you shrugged. “We’ve dated nearly three months and you don’t even try to cop a feel. For how fast certain things are between us, that one feels a little slow. I just want to understand. I don’t...I’m not saying it’s a problem I just want to know.”

“You asked me on our first date, or you made a comment, that I don’t seem like the shy around women type.”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t use to be. A smidge, especially if they were the one that seemed to be controlling the situation but it was always good. I had some girlfriends, had some hookups. More than my fair share of hookups. The girlfriends…”

“The bitch one?” you said, getting a chuckle out of him.

“I stopped thinking I was relationship material for a while. So I did hookups for a long time and that was good. Until about two years ago. I haven’t had sex since.”

“Did someone hurt you?”

“No. I just...I asked her to stop and she didn’t.”

“Dean she hurt you.”

“It’s not that big a deal.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Well I don’t want to talk about it anymore, okay?” he said. He put his back to you and you took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I know we sleep in the same bed and…”

“And I don’t need to have sex with you. Would I like it? Sure. But my sister and I aren’t the only ones in this house that need to be taken care of. You’ve done a really good job of that lately and I’d like to start pulling my weight in that department. When you’re ready for sex, you tell me, otherwise, I will just cuddle you real hard until then, okay?”

“Alright,” he said quietly. He reached behind himself and wrapped your arms around him. You kissed the back of his neck, Dean taking slow breaths. “I don’t really know how to let someone take care of me though.”

“We’ll take it slow,” you said. “Like maybe with you being little spoon tonight.”

“Alright. I can try, sweetheart.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 5 here!

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #doctor!dean #au!dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #spn reader insert #supernatural reader insert #dean #winchester #dean spn

[chibigaia-art]

The games we could buy instead of World's End Club, hand them over please 🥺🤲 I'm interested, and you love Portal so I trust you in your games taste

Ty, but you’ll soon find out I also have bad taste🥺🙏 ok so, gonna try to categorize these, and also under the cut because they're a lot - also, they’re all single player and story driven for the most part (the ones marked with * are usually the ones I’m inclined to recommend the most, regardless of the genre)

>Games that are either on pc, switch, or on every known console (I don’t wanna check each one sorry)

-*Undertale: you know it was gonna be on the list, it's good, if you haven't played it yet, play it (also delta rune)

-*Portal: YOU KNOW IT WAS GONNA BE ON THE LIST, you can get both games for less than 3€ during steam sales, if you don't have motion sickness it's a must play, LOOK INTO MY EYES AND TELL ME YOU’RE GOING TO PLAY PORTAL. IT’S SO GOOD. THE SECOND ONE IS ONE OF THE BEST GAMES EVER MADE.

-*Fallout New Vegas: closest thing to dnd I've ever played in terms of videogames, I absolutely love it, I can't even begin to describe how invested I got in it - you can buy it for nothing and get 90+ hours of gameplay on a single playthrough in exchange; it has fantastic humor, the story is *chef kiss*, there’s cowboy robots!!!!!, there’s moments where it feels like an horror game, finding out the story of the various vaults is great and half of them are pretty scary too - also if you’re a wee baby like me and are really empathetic, some stuff makes you cry. Chandler from Friends shoots you in the first two minutes of the game. You can be an unstoppable bisexual.

-*Ace Attorney: attorneys go brrr they’re also ace; you can get the trilogy basically on every console at this point - also buy The Great Ace Attorney when it comes out because TRUST ME it’s so good!! if you still have a 3DS you can get all the other games for cheap too when there’s sales, otherwise uh,,, e m u l a t e

-*Hades: I think pretty much everyone has seen at least the trailer for it, so I won't say much except it's a 10/10 game, it makes you go 😳😳😳😳everytime a character is introduced; another game where you play as an unstoppable bisexual

- Oxenfree: adventure game with multiple endings, ghosts, makes you sad but also happy! There’s some small jumpscares, but it’s not a horror game and more of a puzzle one

- The World Ends With You: played it the first time last summer, absolutely loved it - playing it on switch lite is a bit of an hassle tho, and the only reason I haven't played it again :') really loved the story and characters!!

- Grim Fandango: will gaia ever stop recommending old games she just randomly finds out about: no it’s basically a noir movie set IN THE LAND OF THE DEAD ok so gameplay wise i used a guide a lot, some stuff wasn’t very intuitive, but GOD THE ARTSTYLE IS SO GOOD, also it has a really fantastic humor!! I played it twice already, probably going to play it a third time too!! The main character is a manlet skeleton, this is extremely important

- Life is Strange: your actions have consequences, lesbians, crying

- Night in the Woods: ahaha nice jokes and artstyle > I don’t understand > I’m crying

- Dark Souls: ok so. it fucks but also I hate it. but also, itsbfbddfb man it’s cool. I only played the third one tho :°]

- Monster Prom: the only dating sim I care about

- Hatoful Boyfriend: I lied, this is the other dating sim I care about

- Da...dangan... hnnnnggh

- Abe’s New n’ Tasty: this is actually the platform game i was talking about in the other post! idk if the opening is creepy because I first watched it as a child or if it’s because it’s uh actually really dark, but anyway!! platform game that makes you bang your head against a wall, excellent character design, dedicated fart button

>Games that are only on Playstation section (sad)

- Persona 5 Royal: ryuji is in this game. P5 Strikers is also super fun, tho it has a different gameplay but I enjoyed it a lot! Ryuji is also in this game

- The Last of Us: I havent played the sequel so I can't speak about it, but the first one is still super good in terms of story and super fun to play imo

- Uncharted: ok so it may not be one of those games that make you sit and think abt the story, but it sure as hell is fun and the scenery is really pretty!!! Also the main menu theme is a banger, and the banter between the main characters is usually p funny (also found family trope my beloved)

>Free RPG horror games that I played ages ago and are still engraved in my brain: Ao Oni, Ib (personal fave), Mad Father, Misao (heavy content warning for this one, it’s really fucked up) you can find all of these here, except ao oni

#chibiblabbing

[detroitbecomeyandere]

Another day another dollar at Fish'n Things, today you were waiting on a new shipment of Angelfish. Recently there had been a boom in angelfish sales so you had to keep ordering more, the sales for them was more than enough to prove to your parents that opening a fish store and dropping out of college was the right idea. Normally by now you would be home having dinner but your shipment was delayed and you didn't want them to just be left out in the alley behind your shop.

You kill the time by watching the news, apparently there was a huge mermaid smuggling ring that was just broken up. There were horror stories about underground restaurants sticking them in fish tanks and let people pick out which mermaid they wanted for dinner. The thought of that just made you sick, sure they weren't human but they were close enough to it that many people considered it cannibalism. Before you can get too much into the report the delivery bell rings, popping up from your seat you jog to the stockroom and open the delivery door.

 A man in khaki hands you the signature forms and goes back to the truck, by the time you are done signing he already dropped the package off into the storeroom. He loads up and pulls out of the alley behind the shop, after shutting the door behind you you finally notice the giant crate. You for sure didn't order enough fish to be delivered in this big ass crate, you scan the address printed and see that it is in fact your package but a different breeder logo was on it. "Guess they got a new breeder or something, this must have cost a shit ton in shipping. Do I even have a pry bar?" 

After searching for about 10 minutes you find a hammer and start to pry up the nails in the crate.

"Fuck!!"

The side panel comes down hard on your toes causing you to let out a string of swears as your toes throb. While you were doubled over you see a hand reach out for you out of the corner of your eye.

Wait, a hand? Bolting up right immediately you follow the webbed hand up and see it's attached to a whole body, and immediately you are face to face with a mermaid.

~~~

After the shock that you had inadvertently thought a mermaid wore off you quickly took the rest of the crate apart and opened the top of her tank. Her head pops up out of the water and she just stares at you, her eyes full of curiosity when really we should have been for fear of the unknown. Her short hair falls over her eyes as she cocks her head to the side, a little grin on her face "Hey you okay there? You look a little shocked."

"Am I okay? Are you okay, how did you get in there?" 

She flicks her tail out of the tank and props her head up on her hands, "I'm an angelfish, you ordered me. The name's Kara by the way, not that you asked." 

"Oh God I'm so sorry, yeah hi. Sorry I've just never seen a mermaid in person before. I'm y/n, are you okay in there? You look a little cramped?" 

"Yeah I could use a bigger tank, you got any food around here?" 

~~~~

Several hours and most of your food stock gone you realized that this time you ordered from the wrong place, somehow you found a black market site for merpeople in your search for higher quality fish. You debated on calling your local merfolk authorities but decided against it when you realized you'd be arrested. So you decided to keep Kara, your small apartment wouldn't be big enough to house her so you decide on buying the largest aquarium you can fit in your shop and keeping her here. 

It was kind of nice to have someone else in the shop with you, even if that other person was a smart mouthed mermaid. If anyone asked you why there was a mermaid in the shop you'd just tell them that a rescue had reached out to you to house Kara for a little while. 

Having Kara around boosted your sales even more, though you made sure to buy from real fish breeders this time. Over the weeks Kara got extra clingy, anytime you were with a customer for too long she would splash water over you and them. When it was time for you to go home she would complain about a new pain, when stopped listening to her complaints about phantom pains Kara started wailing and begging you not to leave her. One time she threw herself out of her tank and gripped your clothes so tightly she shredded them, that night you stayed with her and slept on the floor next to her habitat.

Her behavior was getting more extreme, today she threw a shell at a man asking about a betta fish. His hand brushed your's when he reached for the food you recommended. 

That night you decided you had to talk to her, try and set some boundaries with her. Climbing the ladder to the top of her tank you lean yourself against the cool glass "Hey Kara, we need to talk okay?" Within seconds she surfaces, her webbed hands grabbing the edge of the tank. "What's up?" 

Taking a deep breath you push back the anxiety gnawing at you, her behavior was not okay but at the same time you didn't want to upset her, she is your friend after all. " Kara the way you've been acting isn't okay. You can't just throw things at people, it was kind of cute when you just splashed people but now you are hurting people. We could get sued, you could get taken away and shipped back to wherever you came from. Do you want that?" 

The little grin she always wore when talking to you dropped and a frown took its place. "Well they shouldn't take your attention away from me, I'm the most important thing here." 

A sigh of frustration escapes you "Kara that's not how this works, this shop is a priority. If you keep this up I'm gonna have to find something else to do with you." Before you can say anymore her clawed hands shoot up and drag you into the water with her, her tail wedges itself between your legs stopping you from kicking her off you, pressing her scales covered breasts to your chest. She tangles one hand into your hair and jerks your head to the side, with your neck exposed Kara sinks her teeth into your soft flesh. You hear a pop and your skin breaks under her sharp fangs, you try and pull to pull her off of you but all it does is cause her to dig in even more.You thrash in her grip, screaming at her to let you go. 

"Kara what the fuck, get off of me!" Slowly your fighting fades and Kara pulls away from your neck, red smeared across her face. Her grip on you loosens and she cradles your head in her hand, Kara places soft kisses over your face and then presses her lips against yours tenderly. When she pulls away she gazes lovingly at your blood smeared face, Kara lays on her back and lays your head against her breasts. Her scales cool on your face, she starts to hum a song and rubs soothing circles into your back. "You can't get rid of me y/n, I can always do worse. Remember that, okay?"

#detroit become human #dbh #yandere #mermay 2021 #mermay #mermaid #dbh kara #mermaid kara #yandere x reader #fantasy au #mod beau

[therealvalkyrie]

Through the Mirror: Part 1

my body, my music

Pairing/setting: Detective!Levi Ackerman x Female!Ghost!Reader, modern!AU within the Walls

Summary: When you’re murdered one Tuesday morning, can Levi piece together the true circumstances of your death with your help from beyond the grave?

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: dead body, descriptions of blood, swearing, mentions of violence

AN: Welcome to my new series because I have no self control and can’t finish projects before starting others! Lemme just start off by saying updates may come pretty irregularly because I do have a lot of other WIPs to work on, but! I’m really excited about this idea and have a whole lot planned:) I seriously hope you enjoy. After all, who doesn’t love a good murder mystery? Drop into my DMs/askbox/comments/reblogs to let me know what you think! Be kind to yourselves and others. ~valkyrie

“Ah, shit! Hello!? I’m standing right here!”

The woman completely ignores you, stepping carefully over the puddle of blood and across your tiny living room. You cross your arms and pout. She ignores that, too. 

“‘Scuse me, boys, let the experts take it from here,” she quips, gently pushing past the two detectives and crouching next to your body on the ground. 

It’s ugly, but she’s probably seen worse, you muse from where you’re leaning against the door jamb. It’s only been lying there for a couple of hours, so at least you haven’t bloated to something out of an NCIS episode. Must smell horrid, though, judging by the mask the head detective has pulled over his face.

“So, you said the landlady called at about 7 am?” the ME inquires, cocking her head up to look at the detectives, nylon gloved hands held at the ready.

“7:07 exactly. Said a neighbor made a noise complaint, she came up to check it out, found signs of a forced entry, and called us.” It’s the taller blonde who speaks up, reading from an off-brand pocket notepad in his left hand. The kind you’d find on sale at Staples after Back-to-School season.

Interesting. You lean your head against the wall, eyes trained on the trio. You’d pegged the ill-tempered shorter one as in charge. Maybe he’s just the quiet type. 

“Hmm, alright. Moblit, get off your ass and come take the pictures before we move her,” the woman calls to someone behind you, and you turn just in time to get a face full of Moblit’s chest as he walks towards you. 

You cringe back with a “God, seriously?” to no response.

“Yes, sorry, right away, Hange!” Moblit hurries past- no, through -you, sidestepping the ottoman and the blood. It feels weird, like a strong wind, but not altogether unpleasant to have someone walk through you, you suppose. You look down at your chest to watch your misty body re-settle into itself before looking back at the group in your living room.

Were it not for the gruesome accents of blood flecked up the walls and your body riddled with stab wounds, you’d chuckle at how all four of them struggled to navigate the space. It’s cramped enough when it’s just you, fitting only a couch, a chair, a coffee table, your fern (Boris), and a narrow IKEA bookshelf. With the four of them plus a dead body, it’s like watching a freaking clown car.

“Sorry, excuse me, Captain, oh, was that your toe—?” Moblit’s struggling the most, having to move to capture different angles with his bulky camera. When he steps on the shorter man’s toe, he positively blanches, fumbling over himself to apologize while the ME laughs openly.

“God, alright, just,” the Captain pinches his delicate nose between a thumb and forefinger, then decides it’s better to wait in the kitchen. “C’mon, Gin, let’s chat in there.”

The Captain and the blonde detective both pass through you on the way back to the kitchen, but you only sigh and shake the tingly feeling of being incorporeal out of your fingers before following them.

“So,” the man called Gin takes the initiative, flipping back through his notebook and standing by the fridge. “I got statements from the landlady and two of the neighbors, numbers 303 and 304 down the hall. 301, directly across the hall, didn’t answer, but I got contact info from the landlady.” He pauses to read and scratch at his whiskery beard. “It was 304 who made the noise complaint, said she heard yelling this morning at around 5:45, and that she normally wouldn’t’ve said anything but it was, quote, the fourth goddamn time this week and I work the goddamn night shift, I deserve some fucking rest, unquote.”

You grin. Mrs. Sheffield was never one to mince words, something you appreciated when your ex-boyfriend got too loud and she took it upon herself to give him a piece of her mind. You catch a glimmer of a smile on the ornery Captain’s face above where he’s pulled his mask down before he gestures for Gin to keep going, keeping his thoughtful gaze fixed on the floor and his back against your countertop.

“Then after she called the landlady, she went to bed, only to be woken by us two hours later.”

“You said she called the landlady at 5:45 and that she works the night shift?”

Gin double checks his notes. “That’s right.”

“And she works at the hospital?”

“Yes, as a scrub nurse on the night shift.”

“But the night shift at the hospital ends at 6:30.”

“It was her night off,” you and Gin say at the same time before you catch yourself. They can’t hear you, anyway. This’d be a lot easier if they could.

Gin plows ahead. “But she says she keeps the same sleep schedule so she doesn’t, ah, fuck up her circadian rhythm.”

The Captain practically snorts at this, itching for a second under his silk cravat (can someone say pretentious) before settling back into a listening silence.

“303 says he didn’t hear a thing. College kid, looked exhausted. Said he was asleep the whole night after he got in at,” a page flip, “11 o’clock last night. Wasn’t much help, but looked genuinely upset when we told him about the murder. Wanted to know if there was anything he could do. Oh, but he did, uh, hang on,” more page flips, “He did tell us that he heard her and her boyfriend arguing a lot. Which is consistent with what Mrs. Sheffield told us.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” you correct into thin air. 

“A lover’s spat gone wrong, then,” Mr. Pretentious Captain muses. You huff in annoyance. A lover’s spat. If that’s all that this is written off as you’ll have some serious PD haunting to do. Chris may have been an angry, loud, disruptive manipulator, but he wouldn’t murder you. He didn’t murder you. “Any info on the whereabouts of the boyfriend?”

“Ex-boyf—!”

Blondie cuts you off, “Not currently, but we do have a name: Chris Henderson, works in admin down at the University. Lives across town closer to the Bridge.”

“Send some uniforms to bring him in for questioning. No arrests yet, tell ‘em to keep it friendly.”

“Right, I’ll put Dreyse and Bodt on it.”

“Dreyse, really?” Captain Cravat gives Gin an incredulous look. 

“Hey, she may look like a ditz but she gets the job done. And she might get him to let down his guard,” Gin argues, grinning. 

“Fine. I’ll meet them at the station, you stay here and make sure that mousy-haired dunce doesn’t fuck up my crime scene.”

“Hey, who’re you callin’ mousy-haired, short stack?” Hange actually sticks her whole head through yours this time, to butt into the conversation, and you shriek and jump away to the other side of your tiny kitchen, now sandwiched between Blondie and Shortstack. The latter twitches and swats at the air by his ear, as though to dislodge a fly, narrowly missing yours. You give him a weird look then turn back to listen to the ME. She’s leaning into the kitchen at an alarming angle, one hand on the doorframe and the other on the end of the gurney you assume is carrying your body. You shudder at the thought of being toted around in a dark, musty, humid glorified coat bag. Ugh. 

“—takin’ this baby”-she slaps the gurney twice and you flinch-“back so I can get started on the autopsy, Moblit’s staying to take more pictures and collect forensics. If Eld’s stayin’ here with Mob, does that mean you’re catching a ride with me, Levi?” The question is addressed to Captain Grump on your right, who gives a heavy sigh and pushes off the counter. 

“I guess so. I get to choose music though.”

“Ah, ah, ah,” she’s wagging a finger, grinning. “My body, my music!”

“How about my body, my music?” you suggest, following Levi. “I deserve it after the day I’ve had.”

Again, Levi twitches and swats aggressively by his ear, nearly hitting you full in the face this time. 

“You hear that, Gin? This place got a mosquito problem or something?”

“I do not have a mosquito problem!” and “No, sir, I don’t hear anything.” overlap in the air. 

Captain Levi only grunts, then starts spouting instructions, which Gin notes down. “I want footage from any cameras in the building, and from the shops next door and across the street. I want statements from residents both upstairs and downstairs. I want names, addresses, and numbers of next of kin on my desk by noon, and lastly, I want no one, save for myself, you, shitty glasses, and mousy-hair, in or out of this apartment. Are we clear?”

“Crystal clear, sir.”

“Good. I’m leaving you Braus to help and to show her the ropes of this kind of thing. Even though she’s on the case, she will not set foot in this apartment. I don’t trust her not to leave breadcrumbs in the bloodstains.

“Yes, sir.”

“I expect an in-person report before shift-change this evening. See you then.” Then, he’s sweeping out of the kitchen in pursuit of Hange and the gurney, leaving you to scurry after. As you exit your home, he shoots a young auburn-haired woman in a crisp white blouse and wool slacks a look. “Braus. You’re with Gin. Don’t go in the apartment.”

She straightens up from leaning against the wall with a jolt and brushes croissant crumbs off her front. “Yes, Captain Levi, sir!” It’s slightly muffled by the pastry stuffed into her mouth.

“Tch.”

It’s fascinating watching how Levi and Hange manage to navigate the gurney down the narrow, twisting stairs of your walk-up apartment building. They’re both clearly used to this sort of thing, communicating only in short phrases and grunts when they encounter an obstacle. Occasionally, you offer up a pointer and watch as Levi becomes increasingly irritated. 

“Watch out for Mr. Laslow’s cat, he likes to sneak up on ya!”

“Hange, do you hear— shit!” Levi hops to the side, narrowly avoiding the tabby tail as Tubbins McGee whisks past.

“It’s only a cat, Levi, dunno what’s got you so worked up today,” Hange teases, grin echoing your own as you chortle from the landing above them. 

Eventually, they spill out onto the sidewalk and into the bright mid-day, and Hange groans loudly, stretching with both hands on her back.

“Ugh. Remind me not to die in there, I’d hate to put someone else through that.”

“Boof, tell me about it,” you commiserate. 

“Noted,” Levi snarks. 

Hange removes jingling keys from her pocket and unlocks the ME’s van parked along the sidewalk with a beep, then opens the back doors and steps in. You follow, leaning against the cool metal siding to watch.

When they both load into the front seats and the engine turns over, you lean forward between them to listen in.

“So,” Hange starts, smoothly pulling out into the road behind a silver minivan. “I’ll be able to give you a more solid answer in a couple hours, but my initial estimated time of death would be around 5:45 this morning.”

Levi nods, staring out the passenger window while he answers. “That lines up with the neighbor’s story.”

“Theories so far?”

“Well, there’s the boyfriend,” he muses, lifting a hand to rub his chin.

“Too obvious,” you say dully, not bothering to amend the lack of “ex” yet again. “Next theory.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then mutter, almost too quietly for you to catch: “Too obvious, hmm? Next theory....”

You’re momentarily flabbergasted, hand falling through the faux-leather seat back in your shock. Can he actually hear you? You shake out your hand while it re-materializes, tuning in to the conversation as Hange’s responding. 

“—a little far-fetched, don’t you think? I mean, has there been any of that activity in this area recently?”

“Mm, I’ll have to touch base with Petra. If there has been, I think it’s worth looking into.”

“What is? Wait, go back,” you frantically plead, leaning further into his airspace. But Hange plows on. 

“Oh, it’s Petra, now, hmm? Not Raggedy Anne anymore?” Her tone is teasing, and she glances over to Levi for a reaction. 

He doesn’t give her one, just stares out the window pensively before reaching for the radio dial. The stereo blares up into an Oldies station, and you make a disgusted face along with Levi. 

“You listen to this shit?”

“Hey, my dead body, my music, sweetcheeks. Don’t like it, you can thumb it back to the PD.”

“How about my dead body, my music?” you suggest again, reaching for the dial at the same time as Levi does. Just as his slender fingers touch it, your hand passes through the whole front console and the oldies are replaced with a terrifyingly loud static screeching. 

“Christ, Levi, what’d you do?” Hange shrieks, lunging forward to punch the radio off as you remove your hand. 

“Nothing! It just went berserk!”

They bicker while you stare at your offending palm. “Huh. Didn’t know I could do that.”

If you can actually interact with objects, at least to some degree, and if it turns out Levi can hear you.... This whole thing might be easier than you thought.

#levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot fanfic #snk fanfic #aot x reader #snk x reader #captain levi x reader #female!reader #hange zoe #moblit berner #eld gin #sasha braus #through the mirror #valkyrie writes #tw:murder #tw:violence #tw:dead body #tw:blood

[jiminsasscracck]

sugar rush ↠ jjk

яєαℓιѕтι𝖈 αυ!

gєηяє:  drabble, realistic/idol au, foreigner au

ωαяηιηgѕ: none lol

ωσя∂ѕ: 4987

ωяιттєη ву: Skyler

ѕυммαяу: One may argue there is no such thing called ‘luck.’ You would agree, all you wanted was a bag of Sour Neon Worms and nothing else.

The list went on forever. When you rolled out the beige-coloured paper out of your pocket, the list almost hit the bottom of the car and your eyes widened. Hyunbin had written whatever he could on the list, from five different types of coca-cola to the six different types of chocolate. 

“What’s the matter? Why the grumpy face?” Your friend questioned you with a soft chuckle. Without racing your gaze to meet her eyes, you turned the long list around, so she could read it all. She — along with the four other girls Hyunbin sent you to the market with, all laughed out loudly. 

“What can I say, he has no self-control. And besides, Hyunbin was enough of a gentleman to give us his credit card”, your second friend said while she burst out laughing, waving the black credit card Hyunbin gave you to buy all the supplies. 

“But not enough of a gentleman to follow us to the store in this weather?” You mumbled and eyed the grey sky on the outside of the car. Your friend in the passenger seat gave you a soft push, still laughing. “Come on, he needs to fix his apartment. Whatever he meant by that.” 

Hyunbin’s voice rang through your head again; I need to fix my apartment! You girls go, we boys will stay here and clean this place for when you get back! If it was up to you, his apartment was already clean enough. For it to be five girls and six boys inside, including him, it was rather neat inside his apartment. He lived alone, had a high ceiling and different rooms for all of you to a sleepover with. Therefore, the reason that his apartment was dirty was pure lies. He was either going to drink up all the alcohol or have a ‘boys-time’ with the rest of the boys in his apartment. 

“Someone call Hyun, we won’t be able to carry all of this”, you said and nodded to the list one final time. You unbuckled your belt and pulled the hood of your hoodie over your head, to prevent the tiny drops of rain to ruin your hair. “Let’s go, ladies.” 

You all left your black car and took quick steps to the huge supermarket. You wrapped your arms over your chest to prevent the heat from your — Hyunbin’s hoodie, to leave your body. Your black Adidas-leggings felt like a thin piece of paper when you walked in the cold, but you were soon greeted by the warmth of the supermarket on the inside. 

Even at such an hour and at this gloomy weather, the supermarket was surprisingly filled with more people than you anticipated. One of your friends grabbed the red basket to pull behind her; then the shopping started. 

You soon realised it would take too much time this way. If all five of you walked together like this, it would take you hours to get everything on the list Hyunbin wrote. Therefore, you all split up into groups. You and the other girl went to the cold supplies, while the three other girls took a picture of the list and trailed their way. 

“So, you and Hyunie”, your friend winked while elbowing you softly as you made your way to the freezers. “You’re wearing his hoodie, I see.” 

“He’s an idiot”, you answered, which caused your friend to laugh out loudly. “But I have to admit, he is cute.” 

“I think he has a thing for you”, your friend hummed. You hummed back as an answer — a hidden smile formed on your lips. Though you were not interested in Hyunbin that way, it did surely boost your ego when your friend mentioned him liking you. He invited all of to his apartment to celebrate your birthday which passed three months ago, but he had spent a few months in Korea with his father and missed your birthday. He returned only a couple of days ago, and almost immediately wanted to throw a little party for you with your closet friends. 

His gestures always warmed your heart, however, you were uncertain if it was all his Korean humbleness or if there was something else behind his actions. Maybe that’s why he wanted alone time with the boys back at his apartment, to discuss his emotions. 

In the middle of your thoughts, a specific object caught your attention, causing you to to an imitate stop and head twisting completely to the side. Your friend continued walking a couple of steps until she noticed your stop. She turned around and asked you what the matter was, but you left her silent. 

There, down there with exotic colours, a bag of Sour Neon Worms rested. How many years had it been since you ate them? You remembered clearly how much you loved them as a child. Now as an adult, you’d almost forgotten how they tasted like. A wave of nostalgia overpowered you, who were you fooling — you had completely forgotten how they tasted like, and you needed to remember.

“Sour worms”, you said slowly and let your hood slowly glide off your head as you turned back to your friend. “Come on, do you know how many years it has been?! I had no idea they were still in sale, let’s get a bag or two!” 

“I don’t think Hyunbin would approve, it’s his money”, your friend quickly argued. You rose one of your eyebrows and showed her the long list again. 

“He wants us to buy all this and can’t afford a bag sour worms? He won’t even notice we bought them.” Your friend easily gave in — pulling a bad joke how you would need to blow him off if he became mad, but quickly changed her route down the shelves to the package you saw. You squealed the entire way, causing the two men also looking on the candy shelf to give you a side-eye, but you could not be bothered. Your steps increased in size to reach the small bag faster, and you soon reached the shelf-

You could not reach them.

“What... What the fuck!” you cussed and jumped up on the air, your nails brushing against the bag of the colourful candies. “Are you kidding me?!” Your friend caught up with you, but not much to your surprise, she was not able to reach the bag either. 

“What idiot would place kids candy so high?” you hissed and tried jumping again. Just as the first time, you had no luck. There was no chair or anything else near the two of you to reach the bags, they were peacefully resting on the shelf unbothered while you were growing more frustrated. 

Your friend elbowing your ribs caught your attention and caused your jumping to a stop. When you turned to her, you noticed her blue eyes trail past you, down the hallway and to the two men a couple of metres away from the two of you. The same men who eyed you up and down when you squealed. One of them had his back faced you and the other one was snickering underneath the mask he had to cover half of his face, you could point it out by the way wrinkle formed by his eyes. 

The one with his back faced towards you seemed to be at least a head or two taller than you, he could easily grab the package of candy for you. He was dressed in all black, a bucket hat on top of his head and black hair sticking out in a faded undercut.

“They’re Korean”, your friend whispered in your ear. “You know, just like Hyunbin.” 

“Who cares, looks like one of them can reach the shelf.” 

Your friend giggled softly at your determination to get the candy package, who would have thought you were an adult you could drive and smoke, yet the only thing you wanted was a package of sour worms? She remained in place while you made your way up to the Korean men, the one facing you slowly letting his eyes meet yours and his snickering disappearing. 

You gulped down your saliva and placed a hand on the man facing away from you, your entire body stiffening when you felt him stiffen at your touch. Now when you approached him, you could point out he was staring down at his phone and must have blocked out any other sounds coming from around him. He slowly turned around to face you, him being much taller than you and causing you to tilt your head up to meet his eyes and, woah. 

To be someone who is quite laid back, the way his round eyes met your caused your breath to hitch in your throat. Unlike the other man, he was not wearing a mask, which flashed you his perfect skin. His lips were in a straight line and a slight frown flashed upon his face when his round eyes met yours. His black FILA shirt hugged his well-toned body tightly; it all even became worse for your heart when he closed his phone and put his hands into the pockets of his black sweatpants. 

‘Oh god, I hope he speaks English’ you thought for yourself. You remembered when you meet Hyunbin’s parents for the first time — their English was close to absent. Luckily for you, you picked up on some Korean and was able to leave a good impression on his parents, but right now you were way too nervous to speak any Korean with this man. You could barely utter out a word in English to him. 

“Do you think you could....” you started, your usually confident voice becoming an octave lower. You twisted your back the slightest bit to point at the candy bag, only two or three metres away from you. “Reach the bag?” His eyes followed your finger and to the bag you were pointing out. Your friend gave an awkward wave with her hand, clearing her throat discreetly. 

He turned around to his friend, who shrugged his shoulders underneath the olive-green jacket, and eventually, he walked up to the shelf. 

His hands easily grabbed the candy-bag, he did not even need to stand on his toes. He turned around and handed you the bag, and you automatically handed it to your friend behind you. “One more, please.” 

“One more?” he repeated this time, his voice way darker than you thought. You nodded your head and he did as he was told, he grabbed onto one more bag and handed you the candy bag. 

“I-I... Thank you”, you managed to stutter out. ‘Damn it, why did I put on a hoodie? I’m dying of heat in here.’ You grabbed onto your hoodie and fluttered it away from your sticking body on the other side. ‘Should I flash him my Korean? Wait, am I even positive he is Korean?! Okay, yeah, his features are quite similar to Hyunbin but... Imagine if he wasn’t. I would die of embarrassment. He seems to understand English, he-’

“They good?” 

His dark and smoothing voice caught you off guard, all your thoughts disappearing into thin air as you blinked your eyes to focus on him. He was holding onto one of the bags in his large palms, his head twisted to the side to meet your eyes.

"Huh?" you found yourself saying at the surprise question you received from him. 

"Are they good?" he then rephrased, wiggling the bag of candies in his hand. His accent was there, he was not a native English speaker, but it was definitely was better than you excepted. Your eyes blinked to the side for a millisecond, your friends’ eyes met yours and she silently told you to answer his question before it became awkward.

"I mean, yeah", you said and stared down at your bag in your hand. "I can't remember how they taste like, it's been ages but... At least I think so." 

"You think so?" the man repeated, more to himself than to you. "Okay, then. I will also try." 

"Do you like sour candy?" 

At your question, he seemed to unsure what to answer. You did not know if it was due to him being uncertain what the word 'sour' meant, or if he was taken back by your answer. He stared at you for a few seconds, his eyes travelling to the man in his company who leaned onto the shelf on the other side. You saw the man dressed in black mouth the word sour to him, to which his friend only answered with yet another shrug. 

Suddenly, his eyes widened and met yours again. "Oh, sour!" he exclaimed, with a slightly different accent when pronouncing the word. "Yes, yes, I like sour! I like candy." 

"You know, I don't really like it but... I remember I used to love these", you chuckled and waved the bag in your hand. The man seemed relaxed now, his thin lips were curved into a soft smile and he twisted his entire body to face you. 

"You don't like? Why?" he questioned. You just shrugged your shoulder with a playful laugh, you simply grew out of it. However, you were not positive if he would answer you if you tried to explain how your taste-buds changed, therefore you simply answered with a shrug. 

The smile on your lips — and his for that reason, fell drastically when you felt a hand tug on your hood from behind. You were pulled back with such a strong force you fell onto the cold ground, the bag in your hand flying and landing by your friends feet. 

Your hand went up to trail the part of your throat where the hoodie almost chocked you and leaned over your shoulder to see a man, probably in his late thirties, also all dressed in black, stomp past and you and up to the Korean guy. The other person, who leaned on the shelf, instantly straightened his back when he noticed the older man coming through. The guy that just helped you stared at you with wide eyes, mouth hanging open as his instincts were to help you up from the floor. 

"No, Jungkook, don't do it. Just ignore her and let's go meet the others." 

He spoke in Korean, but you understood it all. Before anyone could utter out a word, the older man pulled the two away from the scene by grabbing onto their forearms. All three of them disappeared around the corner, their voices fading away the further they walked. 

"Dickhead!" Your friend called loudly after him. She bent down and grabbed the bag which flew from your hands and helped you up on your feet. "Are you okay?" 

"I'm fine. It just caught me by surprise", you said and patted down the dust on your leggings. Jungkook, he said? It rang a bell, maybe one of Hyunbin's friends were named Jungkook, you had an insane amount of deja vús when you heard his name. 'Just ignore her? Asshole. You could have told me to move away and I would have.' You were becoming more bitter the more you thought about it; what if he ruined Hyunbin's hoodie? Or strangled you to death? 

"That Jungkook better be a God or something, why else would he be so protected?" you bitterly joked while fixing your hoodie. 

"He probably is, he looked like on at least", your friend tried to joke, but she did not even earn a chuckle from you in return. Your eyebrows were still narrowed and your lips in a thin line. She could point out you were irritated by the wrinkle forming between your eyebrows. 

"Let's continue with the list, yeah?” she suggested awkwardly. “We've wasted more time than intended." 

"What list- Oh, that's right." 

You pulled the list of supplies out of your pocket again; this was why you were here to begin with. How could you have forgotten, a few minutes spent with a Korean guy and you already forgot what you were supposed to do. 

The two of you silently continued to check out the list, and eventually the three other girls joined you. They wondered why you were so slow — they were finished with all the dry supplies while you still had not filled half of the basket. You simply explained you would tell them everything in the car instead. 

You spotted Jungkook out of the corner of your eye multiple times, each time he was joined by a new Korea guy. It seemed as if this place must be a good place for Koreans, there was not one, two, three of four here but around ten people, all from the same friend-group. You noticed a few walking around with a camera, your interest definitely sparked but you were forced to twist your head the other way. You could afford anymore distractions, they all waited for you back at Hyunbin's parlament. 

"I called Hyunbin, by the way", one of your friends said. "He should be here any minute. We can fill half of the supplies in his car and the other in yours. What do you think?" 

"Sounds good to me", you hummed and checked off the last thing on the entire list. 'Gosh, why do we even need five litres of coca-cola?' you thought for yourself. 'I'm going to need something to hold me awake this entire night.'

"I'll be right back. I'll go grab myself a red-bull", you said. "Start checking out, I'll come join you as soon as possible." "Oh, get one for me to!" your friend called, and soon enough all of them wanted the energy drink. You flipped them off with the middle finger, a sneaky smile on your lips as you separated your way to go back to the cold refrigerators. 

‘I hope I did not end up on camera. I feel like I should know who those guys are... Damn, could they be a part of a drama? What was that drama I watched again... Descendant of the Sun?’ Your thoughts lingered away for a moment, you tried your best to avoid the Korean men in the supermarket in fear of being on camera. You had heard about the crazy things fans could do to anyone getting too close to a celebrity, and you were not about to catch a case with a celebrity you did now even know about. 

Jungkook, was it? 

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and googled the name, even after the first three digits his named popped up. You pressed onto the first suggestion that came up and your phone instantly flashed pictures of the same face you spoke to half an hour ago. 

Jeon Jungkook (1997) BTS.

‘What the fuck, BTS? That super famous KPOP band? Nononono, that can’t be it. Their fans are crazyyyy, if that was the case this supermarket would have been flooded by now.’ Your own thoughts went against you as you kept analysing the pictures, no, this had to be him. Everything looked the same, his nose, his eyes, his lips, there were no two ways about it. 

You placed a hand on your stomach as the adrenaline started flowing through your veins. You did know if you were considered lucky or doomed for speaking to him, it somewhat explained why you were tossed away by the older man. The other man you saw, with the olive-green jacket and mask, was called Kim Taehyung. Even though you could not see his entire face, his face structure resembled exactly the same Taehyung had, even the mole on the nose.

Since your head was facing down, you did know notice the muscular body approaching you from the front. You eyes were stuck on the text in front of you, you did not notice until your head bumped into a rather hard chest and forced you to raise your head. 

When you saw him at first, you let out a shriek and instantly closed your phone. You could almost feel the embarrassment flooding through you if he spotted you searching him up on your phone. 

You stood stiff in front of him, giving your eyes one last time to analyse him properly and to be certain this was him. His jawline was tightened, blue veins popping up on the side of his neck down his long-sleeved arm he had pulled up. And yes, that’s where you saw the tattoos. The last thing which confirmed this was the Jungkook you were talking to. 

“I...” he licked his lips as he fumbled with his fingers in front of him. He seemed to have a difficult time to form a sentence, and after a couple of seconds he simply said ‘sorry.’ 

“It’s fine!” you said quickly — almost too quickly. You were so paranoid about obsessive fans or cameras to be around you, you just wanted him to go away. However, he did the opposite. He heard the unnatural tone in your voice and tilted his head softly to the side. 

“You... hurt? Pain?” he questioned, his fingers trailing over his throat — the same spot you were strangled when you were pulled back. 

“No, no, I am fine! See?” You rubbed your palm against the sore spot on your throat, during the past thirty minutes the pain suggestively disappeared, you could barely feel it now. “I gotta go, thank you for worrying-” 

As you tried to walk past Jungkook’s colossal body, he grabbed a hold of your wrist and pulled you with him between two shelves, 

If that was any other guy, you would have thrown a fist in his face and stomped away. But knowing who he was, knowing what he was capable of doing, you obeyed as he pulled pressed your back against a shelf. He stood a few steps away from you, his eyes eyeing you up and down. His eyes left burning marks across your body, why did you come in a hoodie and leggings? 

“Are you... scare?” he spoke out slowly. If you were not scared from earlier, you definitely were now. 

“Who, me?” You questioned and he nodded. “N-no, why would I be scared?” 

“Hyung, he didn’t want you to hurt. He...was...protect — protecting, me.” 

“I know”, you answered. The older man must have been his bodyguard of some kind, knowing how many fans BTS have you did not blame him. Jungkook cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing gently towards you. “You... know?” 

“I didn’t mean to bother you. I am short and you know, you are tall, the candy was in a high place but maybe I should not have bothered you. I don’t blame you.” 

Jungkook blinked his eyes, his brain probably picking up what you were saying and translating it into Korean. He stood still for a few seconds, one hand inside his pocket while the other hung loosely from his side. He made sure there was no one in the hallway the two of you stood in, before he took yet another step closer to you. 

“You no bother me.” His voice came out soft as a dance on roses, your chest rising together with his voice. Where were your friends? They must awkwardly stand up the check-out now, waiting for you to return with the red-bull. However, at this very moment, you could not even bother to think about your friends. You stood quiet and let Jungkook continue. 

Jungkook seemed to hesitate, he took a deep breath in and his eyes stared at you with words he was not able to say. “You look like angel”, he began to say slowly, his features open as he twisted the bucket hat on top of his head. “I was happy, when you came to me. I’ve been practising English, you know? I wanted to know you... better. But you seemed mad at me. Avoided me.” 

Your brain could truly not grasp what was going on. Jungkook called you an angel — which you certainly did not agree on when you were dressed like this, and he wanted to get to know you. You. You could not even imagine all the girls and boys who would have died to be in this position you were in now, you had no idea who he was until you googled him. Maybe destiny choose the wrong person? Or it could be the other way around, you had no idea.

“No, I’m not mad. I was just busy, look.” You pulled out the long list of supplies from your pocket, Jungkook’s eyes followed it as it folded out and a soft laugh left his lips. His laughter made your heart skip a beat, it was genuine, he was not trying to force it. 

“Okay, I see. Very good. Then, your name?” 

By now, you had thanked whoever controlled your fate from above to put you in this situation. You happily told him your name and extended your arm for him to shake, though you were aware of the different traditions they had in Korea. Jungkook, being the gentleman that he is, did not leave you hanging and shook your hand back. His hand was larger than yours by far, his fingers met on the other side and he let out another laugh. 

“You are small!” he said while laughing. “It is good. Not bad, it is very good.” 

“And you are... big”, you clapped back playfully and tapped his stone-hard chest lightly. You instantly spotted how your gestures boosted his ego — his manliness, and his muscles flexed underneath your fingertips. He tilted his head to the side playfully, a grin forming on his lips as the hand on his bucket hand trailed down to place on top of your hand.

The sound of your panicked friends calling your name ruined the moment for the two of you, they must have been waiting for you by the cashier now. You could almost feel the anxiety they must have while waiting for you, which was why you flashed Jungkook your last smile before jogging away. Jungkook wanted to call after you, when your body touched him his entire body heated up instantly, as if you had a magic effect on him. He patted down his sweatpants and pulled his shirt over his hipbones before he slowly made his way to reunite with his group, somewhat planning out  an idea to convince Namjoon to get your phone number. 

“Where are the drinks?!” your friend shirked once you made it to the cashier. You only grinned at her, a grin which spoke more than a thousand words, and it silenced her in a second. You paid for everything, even the bag of sour worms, and went to place everything into plastic bags. However, you noticed all the supplies were already placed in plastic bags, held by none other than Hyunbin himself. Hyunbin had a black shirt on, stuffed into his skinny jeans and a beanie covering his ears.

“My, my, looks who finally made it”, you teased. “Told you it was a bit too much, yeah?” Since his hands were occupied, you placed his credit card in his pocket for him. 

“Let’s get to the cars, I don’t know how I feel with five guys staying in my apartment with my alcohol”, Hyunbin answered with a small smile, his dimples forming as he did so. 

As all of you start to walk, you and Hyunbin walk last. Hyunbin had a hard time to balance the two filled bags while you kept glancing over your shoulder, waiting for something to happen. You could not leave like this, not after you had the greatest luck you ever had in your life. 

Jungkook did not think so either. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a black dot make its way towards the two of you. You stopped in your tracks; and in return, so did Hyunbin. 

Jungkook jogged up to the two of you, his face almost lit up when he spotted another fellow Korean he could converse with. He started speaking Korean to Hyunbin, most of it was understandable for you. He explained what had happened — the sour candy, and Hyunbin was smiling and chuckling. 

They spoke for a few minutes; it all ended with Hyunbin agreeing to something and Jungkook flashing him the biggest smile he had ever had. Then, Jungkook turned to you and his smile increased. “Beautiful”, he said, causing your pulse to start beating faster. “I am lucky. Wait here, I come quick.” 

Jungkook twisted his body and ran away from the scene, up to his camera crew where he was most probably going to ask something. You snapped your head to the side, where Hyunbin’s gaze met yours and he smiled towards you. 

“That’s Jungkook from BTS”, Hyunbin said, and you answered with a nod. You were already aware. 

“What did you two talk about?” you asked. You did not understand it all, the two of them were both native speakers and they spoke much faster than you were used to hearing. 

Hyunbin snickered at you. “Long story short, he’s joying us for the little party in my apartment.” 

Your smile of happiness grew bigger as your eyes found Jungkook’s body again. he seemed eager, he could not stand in place when he spoke to the rest of his crew what he wanted to do. 

“Oh and by the way...” 

Your eyes trailed to Hyunbin from the corner of your eye as he spoke. “I didn't put Sour Neon Worms on the list.”

“Shut the fuck up, Hyunbin.” 

#you know how hard this was for me to write since i speak korean lol #pro tip from me #who dated a 23 year old #boost his manliness #1st of september #kinda what i did now lol #admin sky #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts x foreigner #bts foreigner #bts idol au #bts realistic au #bts audios #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts english #bts drabble #bts fluff #jungkook birthday