#'to whom would i go / and what would i do' is the best chorus lines i know of when with their melody!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pale-opal · 2 months ago

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I Listened to "The Wisdom Saga" and I Have Some Things to Say - Part 1

If you haven't listened to this part of "Epic: the Musical" yet, feel free to click off this post and do that because not only are you doing yourself a disservice, I will also be giving ALL of the spoilers under the cut, and the Epic sagas are best experienced blind. It's free to listen to on YouTube, Spotify, and Amazon Music, and it's also available to buy on iTunes.

Okay. Did you listen to it? You did? Great! Now let's get into it: 1. Legendary- This is my favorite song in the saga. - Telemachus is precious and must be protected at all costs - The "l-l-l-l-legendary" is giving Hamilton (2015), not gonna lie. - I mean that in the best way possible. - Some people have pointed out that Athena's melody can be heard in the background, and we know from past songs that when her theme or ticking sounds can be heard when she's not present in the song, that means that she's just observing to see what's going to happen before getting involved. - And that's a good thing, considering what's about to happen. - But we'll get to that. - I want to talk about this part of the chorus for a second:

"Give me sirens and a cyclops Give me giants and a hydra I know life and fate are scary But I wanna be legendary" - I just think that first line is so ironic because Odysseus fought both sirens and a cyclops. - I also think the giants line is interesting, since Odysseus almost got sent to the Land of the Giants after a certain someone opened the wind bag (*cough cough* Eurylochus *cough cough*). - Now I wanna talk about these lines:

"There are strangers in our halls Trying to win the heart of my mom But she is standing tall 108 old faces of men who call me small They keep taking space and it's not much longer we can stall

Cause they're getting impatient, dangerous tooAnd I would fight them if I was half as strong as you Somebody help me, come and give me the strength Can I do whatever it takes to keep my mom safe?" - While listening to this song, I got reminded of when my 10th grade English teacher covered the original Odyssey.- A phrase she kept using to describe how the suitors were treating Penelope and Telemachus was "eating [them] out of house and home." - To sum up what she meant by that, the suitors are basically taking advantage of the concept "xenia", which is an idea the ancient Greeks had. They believed that visitors were under the protection of Zeus, and that they had to be treated with respect. - Odysseus and his men try to invoke this when they first meet the cyclops. - Because of xenia, Penelope and Telemachus are sort-of "barred" from kicking the suitors out. - And even if they could... there are one-hundred and eight (108) of them. They're horribly outnumbered. They could easily be overpowered. - Now you may be asking yourself: "How come they haven't been overpowered already?" - The original text actually gives us an explanation for that: Penelope started working on what was known as a "funeral shroud" (a fabric a dead person is wrapped up in before being buried) for Odysseus' father. - She told the suitors that she would choose one of them to marry once the shroud was complete. - However, what she DIDN'T tell them was that she was going to undo some of the work each night, thus allowing her to work on the shroud for an indefinite amount of time, or until Odysseus came back. - ...or, at least, that's what would've happened if the suitors didn't find out what she was up to. Hence why their so antsy to find out which one of them she intends to marry:

"Where is he? Where is the man who'll have you to wife? Oh Where is he? Where is the man with whom you'll spend your life? Cause it's been 20 years (20 years) And we still have no king" - And now it's time to talk about the only antagonist in the entirety of "Epic" who is a clear-cut villain with no redeeming qualities: Antinous.- I want this man defenestrated immediately. - You know how Telemachus is a young man who respects women, loves his dad, even though he's never met him, wants his mother to be happy and safe, and also wants all of these sleazy men out of his house? - Yeah, okay, well, Antinous is the complete opposite of him. Just take a look at this interaction between the two of them (cw for implications of SA):

"[ANTINOUS] Boy! When's your tramp of a mother gonna choose a new husband? ... Why don't you open her room so we can have fun with her?

[TELEMACHUS] Don't you dare call my mother a tramp! ...

[ANTINOUS, spoken] I just did! Whatchu gonna do about it, champ?" - And you want to know what Antinous does after saying all of this? - He challenges the son of the woman he supposedly wants to marry, the same son who he sees as a child despite him being twenty (based on "108 old faces of men who call me small" and how he calls Telemachus "boy"), to a fistfight. 2. Little Wolf- This was the song I was the most excited for prior to its release, and I am pleased to say that it does NOT disappoint. - One thing I noticed before the song came out is that Poseidon refers to Odysseus and his crew as a "pack of wolves" in "Ruthlessness". - Considering how animal symbolism is used in this musical, Telemachus is seen as being in the same vein as his father, but is called "little" because he isn't quite on the same level as him... not yet, anyway. - But I'm getting ahead of myself.

"Fight, little wolf, fight Wanna entertain me? Bite, little wolf, bite Let's see how you take this Strike, little wolf, strike Wanna be a man? Then Fight, little wolf, fight, little wolf, fight" - The chorus is literally a bunch of grown-men trying to pressure Telemachus, who they see as a child, mind you, into fighting a man who is not only older than him, but who is also implied to be stronger, too. - They want this boy dead, and that is apparent before they line "die, little wolf, die, little wolf, die" even leaves their mouths. - I can't wait for "King" to come out. I want these posers to get what they deserve. - Oh, and as for Antinous: "You've made your worst mistake here, might be your last one too You'll have run out of bones to break when you and I are through I'll teach you all the lessonsyour daddy never couldThis cruel world doesn't give out presentsjust for being good" - While I do agree that Telemachus needs to become less sheltered, beating him to death is NOT the way to teach him how harsh the world is. That lesson is going to do him no good if he has to die to learn it. - But, of course, Antinous doesn't care about that. He only cares about dealing with the person standing between him and "his" woman. - The further I go into this, the more I want Antinous chucked out of a window. - But it's okay. It's fine, everybody. Because Telemachus' real mentor soon arrives on the scene:

"[ATHENA, spoken]Need some help?

[TELEMACHUS] What's going on here?

[ATHENA] Is your plan to stand around? Cause I suggest you fight back

[TELEMACHUS] I don't know how" - Okay, so two things: 1. Athena being totally down with helping Odysseus' kid despite this being the first time they meet is awesome. 2. Telemachus wants to fight monsters, but he doesn't even know how to properly punch a guy. I love this. He has Odysseus' heart, but not his "mind" so to speak. He wants to do all these serious and impressive things, but when the time comes for him to do so, he hasn't the foggiest idea as to how.

"[ATHENA, spoken] Uppercut him, now.

[TELEMACHUS] Woah, how did I do that? Is time now moving slow?

[ATHENA] No, I just made your thoughts quick" - I'm so glad we get this explanation of how "quick-thought" works! It doesn't slow-down time. It speeds up the mental faculties of the person under its effects, and essentially puts them in a "bubble" where they can interact with the outside world in-real time while perceiving (and acting?) faster than their surroundings (I don't know if Jay explained this anywhere else. If he did, I'm sorry for being redundant). - And then we get these absolutely raw lines from Athena: "I've no respect for bullies Those who impose their will I've seen plenty enough to truly understand this kind of filth Let's teach this dog a lesson In front of all his kind One young wolf has a larger heart than all these men combined" - THIS IS WHAT I MEANT ABOUT THE ANIMAL SYMBOLISM! Dogs are considered by many to be the descendants of wolves. A genetic relative that is not quite as feral or quite as aggressive as a wolf, even if they're wild. And based on how Athena calls the suitors "filth" (ha!) and puts extra emphasis on how wolves are stronger than them, I wouldn't be too surprised if she was talking about domesticated dogs. And that case, they don't stand a chance against - oh, wait. Hold on a second: "[ATHENA, spoken] Ooh, maybe I pushed you a bit too hard!

[TELEMACHUS, spoken] Ow..." - I can totally imagine Telemachus getting a headache or a nosebleed here. It's his first day getting into a fight, and the first time he's experiencing deus ex machina. Ya boy is not qualified for all of this. He needs a break. - Oh, and then we get Antinous being butthurt about Telemachus actually managing to rough him up a little:

"Go back and cry in your corner Make sure your mother hears If she won't choose a man to adorn her We'll bring blood and tears" - Again. Defenestration. It would suit Antinous really well.- The next song is dedicated to Telemachus receiving an answer to this question: "Athena, why did you come to my aid?"

3. We'll Be Fine - I have a confession to make: I thought this song was going to be boring. - I am SO glad I was wrong. - I also thought that this would be a Penelope song. - I was wrong about that too, but I'm sure she'll get her moment eventually. - One thing that this song accomplishes musically is that it combines the melodies of "Warrior of the Mind" and "Legendary" together, making something that sounds new and different. It feels like Athena and Telemachus really see each other as friends, and that Athena felt the same way about Odysseus - she was just to focused on being his mentor to acknowledge that until now. - Oh, and we also find out that Athena has been dealing with some serious guilt since the cyclops argument:

"I had a friend before, and He was a lot like you I helped him fight through war, but He had his demons too And then we grew apart Then his light went dark

And so, I thought Maybe, if I made a different call Maybe if I hadn't missed it all Maybe, he'd be fine Maybe we'd unwind Maybe, if I help another soul Maybe, if I helped you reach your goal Life could be that bright I could sleep at night"

- This part of the song hurts, y'all. - Athena is genuinely convinced that if she had stuck with Odysseus then he would be home safely, and that what happened between them is mostly her fault, even though Odysseus told her to her face that he wanted to be rid of her, too. - AND she's losing sleep over this man? Somebody go get him immediately.- I really want to talk about the lines referring to light for a moment: - When I first heard "Then his light went dark" I thought that meant Athena legitimately thought Odysseus was dead. Which makes the fact that she feels guilty about everything that happened even WORSE. - And then "Life could be that bright" is just her saying that Odysseus made her life better and that she was wrong about not seeing him as a friend, and that friendship is necessary for living a meaningful life. - And you know, that kind of makes me want to grab Odysseus by the shoulders and violently shake him for shouting "YOU'RE ALONE!" to Athena all the way back in "My Goodbye". Like, no she wasn't, Odysseus, she had you. And you had her. And then you both screwed it up by being too stubborn to admit that the other person had a point. Now BOTH of you are sad and lonely. - But again, it's okay. It's fine (pun not intended). Because Telemachus is still here, listening to all of this: "Athena, I don't know who your friend is I don't know what he's like, but My time with you has been splendid The best day of my life Cause I got in a fight, and I didn't die" - He literally has doesn't know who Athena is talking about, and even if he did, it wouldn't matter, because he NEVER MET HIS DAD. - Why is this song so sad? - We're three songs deep, and I am HURT. - And it's just gonna get worse from here. - On a lighter note, Telemachus says that he has really enjoyed hanging out with Athena for the past fifteen (15) minutes, and that this is actually the best day of his life. His reasoning? He survived getting jumped! Hooray! - Wait, what? That's it? That's all took for this to be the best day of his life? Just... just how bad has his life been, until now? - ... - ...hm. "Maybe, if life wasn't spent as planned Maybe, it's time that you lend a hand I don't think he'll mind If not his friend, then mine

[TELEMACHUS & ATHENA] Maybe, to fall is to learn one way Maybe, it's all gonna turn out great I know we'll be fine I know it's light you'll find" - Telemachus offers to be Athena's friend, while also telling her that it's okay for her to move on from Odysseus. - And he still doesn't know that he's talking about his dad, I can't-- "To fall is to learn one way" = "Sometimes it's okay to learn things the hard way." - Athena had to learn that friendship was something worth pursuing with others by losing the first friend she ever had, and Telemachus had to learn to stand up for himself and come out the sheltered life he's been living by getting into a fistfight. - Light is being used as a metaphor for happiness, and that makes me happy. Because Telemachus and Athena needed a friends, and they have each other now. I love that for them. - This is also the point where the "Legendary" and "Warrior of the Mind" melodies combine. I know I said earlier that was a representation of how Athena and Telemachus friendship was forming, but I would like to off this interpretation as well: - Putting "Warrior of the Mind" and "Legendary" on the same level as each other musically could be a thematic way of saying that Telemachus is a "warrior of the mind", as it were. However, since I did say that Telemachus doesn't have Odysseus "mind" before, I would like to elaborate and say that in this instance, Telemachus is being considered to be an equal to his father due to his emotional intelligence. What he lacks for in book-smarts, he makes up for in heart.

Unfortunately, my complete thoughts on this particular saga are too long for tumblr to allow as one post, so I'll have to post a part 2 later today. We'll be covering "Love in Paradise" and "God Games" then. Furthermore, please do not confuse me talking trash about any of the characters or wanting to see them face consequences for their actions as me speaking poorly of or wishing harm upon any of the actors or crew for "Epic" or any other real people, because that is not what I am doing. I hold great respect for the "Epic" team, and I am eager to see what they do in the future. That's all I can say for now. I'll see you all in a few hours with part 2. Update: Part 2 can be found here.

#cw: sa mention #cw: implied attempted sa #epic the wisdom saga #epic the musical #telemachus #antinous #odysseus #athena deity #lyric analysis #essay #long post #defenestration #opal speaks #may God bless you all

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spencersawkward · 4 years ago

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i’m so happy ur on tumblr now!! i love between the lines so much, could you write a blurb or one shot about mgg and a younger co-star, but like very spicy if possible 🙃, idk i just love that scenario🥵.

i was literally about to write "omg i love this concept too!" and then i was like “well no fucking shit, sophi.” lol. YES i can 10/10 write you a one-shot with a similar scenario! also thank you for your kind words that was the first fic i ever wrote so it’s very near and dear to my heart!

summary: reader goes to a holiday party with her co-stars and best friend, Matthew... but all the fun happens in the dressing room.

content warnings: this one is quite dirty but i’m also proud of it lol. unprotected penetrative sex, oral (female receiving), degradation, use of the term “little girl,” creampie, age gap. dirty talk?

pairing: Fem!Reader/Matthew

word count: 4.7k

masterlist

"no."

"what do you mean, 'no’?” Matthew laughs, looking between me and the mirror.

"I look like the Ghost of Christmas Past." I lift up the soft white tulle of the dress, watching it float back down to settle over my skin. he's got his eyebrows raised and there's a smirk on his lips like he's holding back a laugh. I resist the urge to reach around and hit him.

"would you rather wear that?" he points to the punch-stained gown that's now laying pathetically over the back of the vanity chair. I genuinely ponder the idea for a moment.

"honestly, the crime scene vibes might work well with the theme of our show."

"seriously, it's not bad, Y/N!" he insists, drawing my attention back to the mirror.

"you're just saying that because you're the one who spilled on me and you don't want people making fun of how clumsy you are." I cross my arms over my chest. he gives me a dubious expression in our reflection on the wall.

"do I seem like I care about that?" he challenges.

"I--" the truth is that no, Matthew is not the type. Matthew is the kind of person to flounder in front of anyone and proceed to crack a joke about himself. he's humble. but I kind of like when we talk like this, our back and forth.

after a year of working together on the same show, he and I have grown incredibly close. I'm friends with all my co-stars, but he and I just have the natural friendship chemistry that makes me want to spend all my time with him. when we're not on set, we're hanging out on his couch or ordering dinner or driving out of town to check out wacky sites around California. we just have fun. pure, clean, honest fun.

of course, in my dreams it isn't pure or honest. frankly, there's a lot of sordid scandal to what goes on in my head when he accidentally touches my arm or brushes his fingers over mine. the amount of times I have gone to cast parties trying to work up the nerve to kiss him are embarrassing. he's older and more experienced and, obviously, he has no interest in me.

but that doesn't matter.

the only reason I'm standing in a dressing room alone with him is because he knew someone on the crew who could hook me up with a replacement for the night. he left while I slipped out of the old one and came back in only after knocking and checking, like, twice to make sure I was decent. he's so respectful that it's almost like he's afraid of making me think the wrong thing-- which makes me feel absolutely stupid for my almost schoolgirl crush.

"come on, you look great. let's go enjoy the party."

"was this a dress one of the victims was wearing?" I ask with a laugh.

"probably. not like we carry a lot of gowns on set." he grabs my hand, makes my heart leap into my throat. he only does it to urge me along, but it still feels intimate as I follow him out of the room, tossing one more evaluative glance at myself in the mirror. I seem terrified.

we continue to do our rounds at the party, Matthew filling my glass of eggnog even though I hate it. I wince and take a sip while we talk to some of our co-stars.

"what's wrong with you?" Shemar chuckles at my expression.

"lost a bet."

"with whom?" he glances between Matthew and me, knowing damn well already from the mischievous grin on the former's face.

"I told you not to take it." Matthew says over the rim of his glass.

"if you mention it one more time, I'm gonna throw up eggnog all over your outfit." I threaten him, but we're both smiling. Shemar frowns.

"what was the bet?"

"you know David-- the guy I was telling you about?" I reply quickly, determined to give my side of the story. Shemar nods; I told him last week when David oh-so-chivalrously danced up on me at a club and asked me out. usually in those situations, guys just want a one-night stand, so I was impressed and agreed. "anyway, Matthew said if it turned out that he was a weirdo, he would get to pick my drinks for the next week whenever we go out."

"your drinks? that's specific."

"she's so picky!" Matthew teases me.

"leave me alone, you dick!" I elbow him and he dodges just in time.

"tell him why he was a weirdo." he grins. the glare I give could kill. but Shemar is waiting expectantly for me to share the information, so I sigh and set my jaw before telling the truth.

"he collects antique dental tools."

"what?" Shemar laughs disbelievingly. I throw my hands up.

"I don't fucking know. we went back to his apartment and he showed me his whole collection."

"you're attracted to weird people, Y/N." Matthew says. I raise my eyebrows and almost say something that dooms me. I hold my tongue, however, and turn back to Shemar with a reserved smile.

"anyway, how are you?"

...

the cast holiday party is actually pretty fun. I tend to leave these functions early in favor of my couch and some ice cream, but something about the bright colors and the smell of wintergreen in the air makes me want to linger in the studio.

I stuff myself with sugar cookies and Matthew mercifully lets me switch from eggnog to Sprite. normally, I'd drink at such an occasion, but I'm a messy drunk and this is one of my first real jobs as an actress. I don't want to even come close to jeopardizing that by breaking some expensive equipment or something.

my throat gets a little sore from all the talking I do-- Paget and I spend about half an hour horribly belting out Christmas carols at the baby grand piano they brought in. they originally had someone hired to play it, but the guy disappeared about an hour ago.

by the time it hits around ten pm, my limbs are tired. I thought people would be leaving (a lot of them have families), but the party is still very much raging when I start to wind down. maybe it's because I'm sober.

"hey." Matthew sidles up next to me as I sit at the piano bench with a slice of lime in my mouth. I like to suck the juice out of them; sour things are my favorite.

"hi." I pluck the fruit out and drop it back into my soda. he sits next to me, his cologne filling my senses with the kind of sensual warmth that it shouldn't be making me feel. he always smells so good.

"ladylike." he gestures to the movement.

"is that why you call me 'princess?'" I smirk, half-joking.

"once-- I called you that once!" he defends. it's not a lie. he used the nickname when he was mocking me for my somewhat selective food preferences. it was sarcastic, but I wish it wasn't. something about the way he said it in the moment made me blush.

"is there a reason you've come to grate my nerves?" I raise an eyebrow and he turns away from me as he bites back a smile. I pout. "what?"

"you're talking like a Jane Austen novel."

"what's wrong with Jane Austen?" I defend, skin heating up. his proximity is doing things to me that it shouldn't.

"nothing," he glances at me before moving his gaze to the ivory keys. "do you play?"

"elementary level, sure." I giggle. he runs his fingers over them, never pressing down hard enough to release a sound. I'm entranced by the delicate nature of his actions, the veins and the curve of his fingertips, the sheer width of his hand. I think about it too much for it to be healthy.

"show me." it's a direct order, one that doesn't feel directive but still ends with me placing both hands on the piano and wracking my brain for something to play. I decide on a piece that Paget and I were doing earlier, "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas."

I've never been quite good at piano, and the nearness of his body is like an anvil on my fingers, but I play anyway. and it feels good. his eyes are on me, drawn to my tracings over the instrument as they press and lift and glide.

"sing." I tell him.

"no!" he protests. I don't stop playing, only now getting into the thick of the tune.

"oh, come on. just the chorus..." I plead, turning my head to beg. "please?"

I bat my lashes playfully, fully intending it as a joke, but Matthew softens a bit. for a fraction of a second, I think he looks at my mouth. he turns his head back to the piano and lets out a quiet "here we are as in olden days... happy golden days of yore..."

"there you go!" I egg him on, and he starts to get more into it. his voice is absolutely off-key; he's no singer, and somehow that makes him even more endearing to me.

Matthew has always been this flawless, intimidating figure in my mind. even when we first met, I was certain that he was hiding something because everything else about him is so... perfect. he's funny, sweet, genuinely kind, handsomer than hell. it didn't make sense. but knowing that he can't carry a tune makes me feel a bit better. it humanizes his beauty.

while he sings, I can't help looking at him. his side profile is even more enchanting; the curve of his features meeting a smooth elegance in his jaw and cheek, especially when his mouth is open. he catches me smiling at him and returns it with his own gleeful face, now totally fine with singing like a fool in front of everyone. nobody is even really looking at us-- they're several drinks in and lost in their own universe of drunken laughter.

there's something kind of magical about that, I think. we're sober. when the song draws to a close, I lift my fingers off the keys and into my lap.

"you're quite the Pavarotti." I joke.

"the who?" he furrows his brow with a smile.

"he's a famous opera singer."

"oh," he laughs, "thanks, Mozart."

I twist my face up as I hide my smile. this is also part of the reason I could never tell Matthew how I feel; we just fit together too well. he almost always gets my references and I understand his, even though there's an age gap between us. he's an old soul with a youthful heart.

"how's your night going?" I ask him softly, changing the subject. he sets his hands on his lap, absent-mindedly toying with his fingers. it's not a nervous tendency at all. he does it whenever we're on set.

"as of right now? pretty damn good." he replies with a smile. I get warm again at the implication. he doesn't mean it like that, but god, do I wish he did.

"very smooth." I compliment appreciatively.

"how about you?"

"it was kind of boring, but then this rando sat next to me and started singing Christmas songs and it got a little better." I say flatly, grabbing my glass off the top of the piano and running my fingertip over the rim. he drops his head in a giggle.

"you're something else."

"insult?" I clarify.

"definitely a compliment."

"I like compliments."

"well, I wasn't lying before. you look really beautiful in that dress."

"the murder dress?" I glance down at it to hide the absolute wideness of my eyes at his words. he's completely flustering me and I'm starting to find it hard to breathe. he said I look beautiful. not "pretty," not "great"-- beautiful.

"yes, the murder dress." he gets a little pink in his cheeks, and that makes me want to explode on the spot.

"well, say goodbye to it because I'm gonna go change back into my plebeian clothes," I stand from the piano bench. "it's past my bedtime."

Matthew looks up at me with an unreadable expression and I feel my heart flutter in my chest. I hate leaving him. "do you wanna come with me? like-- walk with me?"

"sure." he nods, stands, and follows behind. I can feel his presence like a delightful reminder of the emotions surging in my stomach. we wind through the crowd of party-goers until we end up back in the dressing room, away from the party. it's quiet.

Matthew walks in with me, carrying our drinks in his hand, and he's about to stroll back out so I can change when I touch his arm. the door shuts automatically behind him.

"wait," I swallow quickly. "can you unzip me?"

"oh." Matthew looks at me, then at the glasses in his arms, then at the vanity. he sets them down and comes back quickly, his frame behind me while his fingertips locate the little piece at the top of my gown. my breath hitches in my throat when he brushes over my spine by accident, one nail dragging accidentally against my skin as the fabric slowly gives way. I don't know if he hears it-- it's nearly imperceptible-- but he definitely hesitates once he reaches the place where my back starts to curve into my ass. he pauses, doesn't breathe until he reaches the end of the zipper.

"there you go." he mutters. his voice is a little more hoarse than usual, and he clears his throat as he steps away. I know he's going to back out. he's going to back out of the room and wait for me to slip into nothing and I know, somehow, that he's going to be thinking about how I look in here with my clothes off. he's going to wish he stayed.

and I'm going to wish he'd done more than stayed.

before I can lose my nerve and allow the moment to be swallowed up by practicality, I shrug the straps of the dress down my shoulders and let gravity take over. it drops to the floor, leaving me in only my bra and panties. I can sense him behind me; he's silent for a moment.

"Matthew." I say, the name sitting on my tongue like a sugar cube. perfectly formed, slowly dissolving.

"y-yeah?" he stutters for the first time since I've met him.

"are you looking at my ass right now?" I ask, still turned around. the way he's frozen in place tells me that I'm right.

"yeah." he admits.

"you can touch it, if you want." I murmur softly. part of me doesn't think this is real, the way each sentence leaves my throat like it's been pre-planned. truly, I don't understand how my brain is moving so quickly.

"are you... sure?" he's hesitant, but even I can taste the longing.

"yes."

his hand smooths over my butt, softly at first like he's still not believing his own eyes, before moving back to grab it. he squeezes the flesh, and a low exhale from him tells me that he's excited.

"do you want more?" my voice barely carries. my head is almost foggy from how good it is to have his grip on my body, even in such a simple way. I can feel myself getting wet.

"how much more?" his lips brush over my shoulder and I get goosebumps. my mouth opens and closes for a moment, searching for the right words.

"however much you want."

it's flint and steel, the way he sparks. the air literally leaves my lungs when Matthew grabs my hips and spins me around to face him. my lips part as I peer up at him, at the lust that now darkens those hazel eyes and the way he holds mine. his touch is certain. he pulls our bodies together, tilts my chin up to kiss me.

it's passionate, strong, the kind of kiss that causes me to lean back a bit just to receive the full force of his desire. but I return the affection easily, moaning into his mouth. I've never been held the way that Matthew holds me. like I'm made of sugar glass, like he wants desperately to feel the soft give of my skin and make a home of me.

the heat between our bodies is almost overwhelming, and I sigh when he subtly pushes our hips together. his erection is against my stomach.

"fuck." I mutter when I pull away for air. Matthew doesn't stop his perfect movements, though, tugging my earlobe between his teeth and starting to leave love bites up my skin and over my shoulder. he chuckles against my throat. I shiver.

"you alright, little girl?" he asks.

"just--" I let out a moan at the sensation of his fingers exploring my bare waist. he reaches behind me to unclasp my bra. "just surprised."

"about?" he slides the straps down my shoulders and looks me in the eye. the lack of physical contact makes me whine.

"that you want me."

"how is that surprising?" he smiles, using one index finger to guide me to look at him.

"you don't seem like it."

Matthew raises his eyebrows as if I'm a crazy person. truly dumbstruck. "what?"

"you-- well, I don't know." I frown, but Matthew takes my hand and moves it over his torso until my palm is resting over the considerable bulge in his pants.

"is this enough proof?"

I struggle for words, sputtering. "yeah-- yeah, it is."

he bucks into my hand a little and I bite my lip, eyes moving up to meet his. something passes between us that I don't fully understand, but feel in my bones. I have never, in my life, wanted someone to fuck me as much as I want Matthew to fuck me right now. my jaw clenches.

"I need you." I tell him like this is the most relevant piece of information that will ever pass between us. he smirks.

"yeah?"

"mhmm."

"then lean against the wall and let me give you what you deserve." he orders. for a second, I try to think through what he means. then I look behind me at the open space and back up, him following me closely. his hands move up to cup my breasts, kneading and tweaking my nipples as he kisses my lips. the coolness against my back causes me to gasp, and he swallows the sound with his tongue before moving down my body.

he's torturously slow, taking one of my nipples into his mouth while he shrugs off his suit jacket. he switches to my other peak, one hand splayed over my stomach, and then proceeds southward with his lips. his kisses are delicate, open-mouthed, as they find their way to the waistband of my panties.

he hooks his fingers in them and looks up at me.

"can I eat you out, baby?" he asks. I bite my lip.

"please." like a beg.

"oh, you're polite tonight." he smirks, tugging the garment down my legs and discarding it somewhere in the room. I don't respond, and he doesn't seem to need me to, because he pushes one leg up for better access to my pussy. "let's see if it lasts."

my back curves off of the wall involuntarily when he holds the flat of his tongue against my clit suddenly, trying to roll my hips against his face. my fingers tangle in his hair, one leg resting over his shoulder.

he starts to flick at my clit. I lose grasp of my own language.

"Matthew, that feels so good, I--"

he attaches himself to my bundle of nerves, seemingly turned on by the sounds I'm making for him. he groans as he laps at the wetness between my legs, dipping into my folds and sucking the soul out of me. I whine and use his curls as leverage to gain more friction. he peers up at me.

"needy little girl." he mumbles against my pussy. I shove him back into me.

"make me cum, then." I beg. I can practically feel the devilish smirk on his face as he devours me like he'll never get enough. every twist and lick of his tongue is sending me to new places. I'm panting, chest heaving, while I grab my own tits and buck into his mouth.

he moans. my orgasm hits me like a wave, causing me to nearly thrash with pleasure as I cry out.

"Matthew, keep going, fuck yes!" I feel tears prick the back of my eyes, the culmination almost too much to bear as we hold contact. he stares into my fucking soul as he eats me out, and I want to stay like this forever. it's hard to support myself with my legs going weak, but I love it. the sensations are otherworldly. it's only when I'm about to collapse that I push his face away from me.

"I love your pussy." he tells me, licking his lips as he sets my legs down. I grin and let my head fall back against the wall.

"thanks."

"come here, princess." he takes hold of my hips and guides me over to the mirror, turning me so that he's standing behind my frame. the pet name causes me to smile.

"what?" I reference our reflection. he stares at me, reaching around to squeeze my tits.

"I wanna fuck you in the mirror." such a vulgar thing, said so beautifully. he kisses my cheek. "if that's okay with you."

"I don't care what position we do as long as you're fucking me." I breathe honestly. he chuckles and draws me towards him so his clothed boner is against my ass. I reach behind and work the button on his pants. he undoes the ones on his shirt. we're silent, him watching my naked body move like he's trying to memorize every detail.

when he's finally stripped, he lets me stroke his cock for a couple moments before pushing my upper back forward so I'm holding onto the sides of the mirror. I see him biting his lip as he lines himself up at my entrance.

"you ready?" he checks. I nod and he smiles at me once. pushing in, the smile melts into a jaw-dropped haze, eyes rolling into the back of his head. "Y/N..."

"it's so big." I try to breathe. he's so deep, I grip the mirror until my knuckles turn white. he's going to snap my body in two with the angle of his cock, filling me easily.

"tight little thing." he grunts as he holds himself inside. I can only watch in shock as I try to adjust to the sheer feeling of him. Matthew runs his hands over my sides, my ass, touching whatever he can. "how's that?"

I start to wiggle my hips and he groans at the feeling of my walls desperately swallowing him up. "Matthew, I need it."

"need what?" he thrusts into me and I have to fight a scream.

"need you."

"fuck... yes." he hisses out, sliding into me. "you're so wet I don't even need to try."

I bite my lip to withhold my sounds and he stares me in the eyes in the mirror as he starts to fuck me harder, building a pace with his hips. he growls a little if he hits certain angles, getting ruthless.

"so many times when I wanted to be inside you, princess..." he trails off. I start to play with my clit with one hand, using the other to stabilize myself with the mirror. the idea turns me on.

"when?"

"whenever you have attitude," he pants. "tonight, in that innocent fucking dress. making me wanna pound you like a little slut."

I make a high-pitched sound at the shudder of pleasure that jolts through my stomach at his words, wanting more. I've never heard him talk this way before.

"Matthew, shit--" I rub myself in circles, caught between watching his face and watching the way his hips slam into mine.

"you're begging to be fucked, you know that?"

"am I?" I smile sweetly in the mirror. we're in our own world, locked in a fantasy that I never want to leave. I can feel him in every corner of my body, sinking beneath my skin. he digs his nails into my ass.

"mhmm." he hums. I can feel the familiar weight in my stomach that indicates how close I'm getting. a knot that screams to be undone by his perfect length. I would do anything for more of this. I can taste everything good in the world on my tongue.

"I'm so close." I whine.

"I can tell," he studies my face in the mirror. "so pretty when you're breaking."

"oh--" I feel my thighs tense and my body pulses, the euphoria almost overwhelming. we move steadily, rhythmically, and he pushes my climax to new levels. "faster." I cry.

Matthew is quick to respond, gripping me closer while he plows into me like he's never going to have my body again. the sound of it is filthy, perfect, a mess. he groans at the sensation of my cunt pulsating around his cock.

"cum for me, princess." he moans, losing himself in the embrace of my core. the foggy stare in his eyes is like drowning in the ocean. I sink below, not caring at all about the consequences of him inside me. fuck working together; I need him. "where should I cum?"

"in me." I groan.

"beg." he commands easily, watching my face contort in pleasure. I could pretend to fight it, to give a little attitude, but I don't want to. I love begging for him.

"fill me up, Matthew. please." each word punctuated by the breathlessness of my voice. he gets even more ferocious with me, beating up my pussy until I'm sure he's going to leave me sore.

"right there, right there," he gasps, hitting the same spot that makes me go cross-eyed. "such a good little slut."

his cum shoots into me, deep and warm and erotically twisted, and I nearly collapse. it feels weird, but so good at the same time. full. he groans out my name and withdraws, quick to grab my shoulders and hold me up as I almost fall. I hadn't realized that most of my body weight was supported purely by his thrusts.

"whoa." he lets out a tired laugh, gentle in his touch. I'm heaving air into my lungs.

"sorry." I apologize, my body unstable.

"are you okay?" he seems genuinely concerned and I nod.

"yeah, I'm fine. just a little overwhelmed."

"here," he scoops me into his arms and brings me over to the old love seat in the dressing room, laying his jacket down before putting me on top of it. "can I get you something?"

"Sprite." I gesture to the glass on the vanity, and he smiles as he goes to get it. I gulp down whatever remains of it. "thanks."

"of course." he keeps glancing at my face and the red marks on my hips where he was clutching me like a lifeline. "I'm sorry."

"what?" I set the cup down. "don't ever be sorry for fucking me like that."

"no, I meant--" he laughs, but then he sees my playful expression and realizes that I'm genuinely alright. I think my legs were asleep.

"you're a saint." I tell him. he frowns and shakes his head bashfully. I'm already getting up and collecting my clothes. "or maybe what we just did prevents you from reaching sainthood. I don't know."

he places his hand on my lower back, kisses my forehead tenderly.

"seriously. you're okay?"

"I'm perfectly fine," I assure him. "but I would be better with a milkshake."

Matthew breaks into a slow grin, staring at me like I've done something miraculous.

"how are you so perfect?"

#matthew gray gubler #mgg smut #mgg oneshot #mgg x reader

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minniethemoocherda · 3 years ago

Text

Sins of the Past: Day at the Museum

Summery: A collection of drabbles set in my modern au where the Bad Batch raise Omega after rescuing her from the abusive hands of their mother. In this chapter, Tech accompanies Omega’s class on a trip to the museum. Written for Day 7 of @bad-batch-week 2021.

Ao3

FF.net

Omega's class were going on a trip to the Museum in the city and they needed parents to help chaperone that many kids. As predicted, not knowing the potential adults looking after Omega, had sent Hunter into an internal panic, so Tech had volunteered to be a chaperone. He had been meaning to see the new space exhibition anyway.

As soon as the morning bell rang, Mrs Organa ushered students and parents alike on board the coach. Tech was planning to sit near the front with the other adults as per social protocol which he remembered from the few trips they could afford to attend when his brothers were at school, when Omega grabbed his hand. Before he could ask what she was doing, she had dragged him further down the coach and pulled him into a seat next to her.

"I do not mind if you want to sit with your friends." He told her, pointing to where Hera and Numa were seated nearer the back.

"I'd rather sit next to you." She beamed at him, leaning her blonde curls against his shoulder. Tech couldn't help but smile back.

As the coach rolled out of the parking lot, he had to admit to himself that he had missed spending one-on-one time with his little sister. He had greatly enjoyed that fist month teaching her at home. To use his intelligence for something more than fixing ancient ovens; to talk about subjects he was actually passionate about to someone who not only listened but constantly asked for more. Although if he was honest with himself, their lunch breaks, curled up on the coach watching old sci-fi movies had been the part Tech had enjoyed the most. When the decision had been made that Omega would go to public school, logically he knew that it was more practical for their work schedule and more beneficial for not only Omega's educational development but also her social. Still, despite seeing Omega every day, he had missed her.

The drive was about an hour long. Tech spent most of it playing on his phone with Omega watching vine complications, completing sudokus and seeing who could get the highest score in candy crush. It reminded Tech of the first day they met, sitting in the waiting room of the police station. How things had changed since then.

Eventually they arrived at the museum. It was old, built in the early eighteen-hundreds out of stone with grand pillars lining the front entrance. Tech guessed that it was probably one of the oldest buildings in the city, if not the state and looked out of place next to the modern high rises on either side of it.

"Alright everyone!" Mrs Organa called out as everyone piled into the main entrance. "Remember that even though we are not on school grounds, we are still representing Alliance Ellemntary. So I want you all to be on your best behaviour, understood?"

"Yes Mrs Organa." Replied the chorus of school children, already distracted by the grand marble floors and gold covered statues of the entrance.

"Good. I want everyone back in the cafeteria by twelve. Until then, as long as you stay within your chaperones' eyesight, you can explore the museum as much as you want. Now go and have fun!"

The students didn't need anymore prompting and Tech had run to keep up with his group as they raced down the hallways.

In his group were Omega of course and his niece Numa, whom Tech had seen more of in the last few months than in the previous ten years of her life. He regretted not having spent more time with the inquisitive young girl. There was also Omega's best friend Hera, plus two boys Tech hadn't met before called Kanan and Cal.

The first exhibition they entered was on American history. Although, Tech thought that it would be been more accurate to have called it American history Post 1492.

A primary coloured display made of puppets, detailed the expedition that lead to America's 'discovery' by Christopher Columbus.

The children crowed around the display, as Numa read the information out loud.

"... and that was how Thanksgiving was created, as a way to give thanks to the Native Americans who gave them food to survive the Winter." She finished.

"Well that is partly true." Tech corrected.

"What do you mean?" Omega asked.

"Yeah that's what's we've been told since kindergarten." One of the boys, Kanan spoke up.

"I mean exactly what I said. That it is partly true. At one of the earliest harvest festival, the pilgrims did share food with the Native Americans in thanks for giving them food to survive the precious Winter. However, Thanksgiving was already a holiday celebrated by Puritans before this event and after it, the Puritans would later declare that Thanksgiving would be held in thanks for and I quote their 'bloody victory' thanking God that the battle had been won over the native pequot people being killing the ones that had helped them only a few years later."

"Really?" Omega wondered out loud, turning back to the display. For a moment, Tech was worried he'd encouraged Omega's the distrust in authority that Hunter was so afraid off, but in her eyes he found only curiosity. Unlike the other children, she hadn't been indoctrinated into this misinformation for their whole lives, and as such was less likely to believe it. Perhaps the only positive of Nala Se's upbringing.

"And why should we believe you instead?" Kanan argued.

Before Tech could speak, Cal piped up.

"Actually I think he's right." He said, fiddling with the ends of his brown coat. "My Foster Dad is pequot. He says the same thing. That's why we don't celebrate Thanksgiving in our house."

Tech nodded in encouragement.

"Thank you Cal. As I was about to say, first hand accounts are more likely to be true. Especially when you can find a different source that confirms the other."

He was worried he might have upset the boys but Kanan appeared to be taking his words to heart.

"Why wouldn't the museum just say that?" Kanan grumbled.

"For numerous reasons. They might deliberately be omitting the misdeeds of their own history or they might not think that children like yourself would not be enough to understand."

"We're not stupid! We can understand it fine!" Omega protested and her friends nodded.

"Yeah!" They cheered un agreement.

Tech smiled. He did not doubt that they could.

The tour through the rest of the history exhibit went much like with the children reading the plaques, debating amongst themselves when the facts didn't quite match up then asking Tech for clarification. Tech was more than happy to expand on the stuff that had been simplified, and in some cases left out altogether. The children listened intently to his words and he couldn't help but feel a swell of pride, when they're eyes lit up in new understanding.

Finally, they made it to the Space exhibit, what Tech had claimed was the reason he'd come in this trip in the first place.

Tech felt like a child himself, staring up at the ceiling of lights resembling the current night sky. Constellations were linked with fairy lights, the galaxy beyond swirling behind them and a projection of shooting stars.

"It's beautiful." Hera said in awe, gazing up at the sight.

"Yeah." Kanan sighed, though Tech noticed that he wasn't looking at the ceiling.

Displays lined the walls, revealing information about the sky above. One discussed the possibility of life on other planets.

"Do you think aliens are real?" Numa wondered aloud.

"No way!" Kanan snorted.

"I do," Hera disagreed. "I'll find them one day when I become an astronaut."

"I mean yeah way actually!" Kanan said, quickly changed his mind.

"What do you think Tech?" Omega asked.

"Studies have already found evidence of bacteria on other planets. I see no reason other that organic lifeforms such as pants and animals shouldn't exist too. Whether any of those lifeforms are intelligent is less likely. Although it can be hard to define if a life is intelligent or not." Tech said with a pointed look at Kanan who was about to climb up the railings to grab at one of the display rocks. The boy smiled sheepishly, stepping away.

After they'd explored the space exhibit which was the only place Tech didn't have to correct any of its information, it was time to find the cafeteria for lunch.

They sat at one of the long designated tables with another group of children and their chaperone. Some of the children bought hot food from the cafeteria, but Tech pulled out the packed lunch Echo had made for him and Omega.

Tech listened with a small smile, as his charges, told the others all that they had seen today. His smile growing bigger when Omega said that she'd learned more from him than the museum.

He left them in the care of the other group's chaperone, who was dressed in an oddly accurate eighteenth century pirate costume for some reason, to treat himself to a coffee. Looking after the kids had been more draining than he thought it would be even if he had quite enjoyed it.

As he waited in the line, Mrs Organa joined the queue behind him.

"I saw you with the kid's earlier. You were a natural with them." She said. "Are you a teacher?"

Tech shook his head.

"I'm a handyman."

"Really?" Mrs Organa exclaimed sounding genuinely surprised. "Have you ever thought about going into teaching?"

"You're a natural with them." Mrs Organa said. "Have you ever thought about going into teaching?"

"No." Tech replied because that was in impossible so there was no point in thinking about it.

"You should."

Tech glanced over to Omega, to find the girl already looking at him. With a beaming smile she sent him one of her signature little waves. Tech waved back. He watched with a soft smile as she returned to chatting with her friends.

"Thank you. But I am happy here."

Following his gaze, Mrs Organa nodded in understanding.

Tech paid for his coffee and bought a hot chocolate for Omega as well.

He later wiped her mouth free of whipped cream when she got it all over face, ignoring her half hearted protests of embarrassment.

After lunch it was time to head back to school. Once again Omega insisted on Tech sitting besides her and the spent the journey much the same way they had on the way there.

Hunter was waiting for them when they stepped of the coach. Tech watched as Omega ran into their brother's arms, Hunter subtly checking her over to make sure she was okay. Tech listened contently as she repeated all she had learnt that day in the car ride home.

They were the only ones in the house when they got home so Tech took the opportunity to have a long shower.

With nothing to distracted him, his mind couldn't help but over think Mrs Organa's word.

Perhaps sometimes he did want more than what life had given him. But that didn't mean he wasn't happy. He loved his brothers. He loved being able to work with them. And whilst working as a handyman for Cid was not his ideal career, he still liked it.

Ninety-Nine had given the four of them more than they could ever repay him for; a childhood, a home and a family.

After spending what little money he had saved on therapy, toys and everything else that not just one, but four growing kids needed, plus part of Echo's medical bills after he moved in with them, Ninety-Nine barely had enough to pay the mortgage let alone college.

Besides, school had never been their forte. Nala Se had taught them the biology of how to clone flies and space faring maths but very little else. The school system never suited them. Hunter did not do well in exams, overwhelmed by his sensory issues that were heightened by his stress. Despite being the moat emotionally intelligent out of all of them, traditionally academically gifted Wrecker was not. And ever the rebel, Crosshair would turn up to half of his exams out of his mind with whatever substance he was currently hooked on then fail the rest on purpose. Of all of them, Tech was the only one who finished school with good grades. Good enough that he could have gone to college, but without the funds necessary to do so and without the desire to leave his brothers even if he did.

Tech shook his head, trying to dispel his thoughts along with the water in his hair. He reminded himself that there was no point thinking about things that didn't happen. As Ninety-Nine had once told him, the best way to love was to simply keep moving forwards.

Done with his shower, he headed downstairs to make a start on dinner, to find Hunter waiting at the kitchen table. Tech immediately knew that he woild be forced to have a talk.

"Omega over heard what Mrs Omega said to you." Hunter said in a way of greeting.

Despite knowing it was a futile effort, Tech still tried to end the conversation by putting a pot of coffee on.

"I meant it." Tech said, busying himself with the kettle so he wouldn't have to look Hunter in the eye. "I'm happy where I am."

"I know. But you could be happier. If you wanted to go to college and become a teacher, you know we would support you."

For the first time, Tech allowed himself to think about what being a teacher would actually be like. A teacher's salary wouldn't be a lot but it would be more than what he earned from Cid. It could be enough to buy Echo a new prosthetic, a bed big enough to fit Wrecker, Omega wouldn't have to worry about not being to afford college herself and-

Hunter's hand on his arm startled him from his thoughts. He hadn't even noticed that his brother had gotten up from the table. Hunter shifted his grip on his arm, this time forcing Tech to look his brother in the eye.

"I wouldn't want you to do this for us." Hunter said, knowing exactly where his mind had gone. "I would want you to do this for you."

So Tech did what he did best. He let himself think. He thought about what it would be like, to teach children like Omega every day. To tach what he was passionate about to those who felt the same. And to help the children like his brothers who never got the support that truly needed from their own teachers. In fact, Tech realised that this was all he ever wanted. That didn't change one thing though.

"How would you get the money?" He asked.

Hunter's gaze drifted for a moment, before his grip on Tech arm tightened with determination.

"I'm going to sue Jango's ass for child support."

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weepylucifer · 2 years ago

Text

“But what did we do?” Steban whines from where he’s bent over the edge of the bed, getting worked up already at the prospect of what is about to happen.

“Yes, what’s the transgression that would merit this kind of disciplinary action?” Ulixes, next to him, chimes in.

The Smoker hums and taps the riding crop against his chin as he considers his options:

1. “I dunno, guys, it’s just pretend. Don’t think about it too hard.”

2. “Hush now. You only speak when spoken to, remember?”

3. “Is that the tone you take with a superior officer?”

4. [Conceptualization: Challenging] Come up with an actual reason for their punishment.

+1 Did do the reading

+1 This is gonna be fun

Oh, yes. He doesn’t often get to dom. He’s going to be a bit mean about this.

He uses the tip of the riding crop to draw a feather-light, teasing line down Steban’s spine, then switches hands and caresses Ulixes’ thigh. “Oh, you already know the extent of your transgression, don’t you, comrades?” he asks in a low voice, almost a whisper. “You deserted your posts, didn’t you?”

Steban gasps. “Deserters...!” Ulixes mutters with genuine horror.

“Yes, deserters. You were entrusted with a duty...” The Smoker delivers a first testing strike to Steban’s ass, lightly for now, “...to the ICM...” the same, repeated with Ulixes, “...to the civil populace of this fine isola...” two more smacks, one for each, quick as lightning, “...and you neglected this duty.”

“Nh--” Steban keens. Reflexively, unselfconsciously, he arches, presenting for more. Ulixes is breathing heavily through his nose, hands fisted in the bedsheets.

“The Communist Party invested so much time in your ideological training... and yet what did you make of it? What good is all your theoretical expertise if action...” -smack- “...does not...” -smack- “...follow?”

Steban is moaning openly, with the shamelessness of the ingenue, attempting to grind his cock against the mattress. Ulixes is trying, hard, to maintain his composure, gritting his teeth. He can’t quite make it. Little whimpers keep spilling out of his mouth.

“And now it seems you boys are enjoying this,” the Smoker says with relish. “Depraved. The bourgeois rot has gotten in deep.” Two more strikes of the whip to their upper thighs.

The Smoker does some quick mental math, gauging their endurance. “I think ten more of the best are in order. Does that seem appropriate?” He’s checking in. His charges don’t disappoint.

“Yes, yes,” Steban pants. He already sounds wrecked. Ulixes nods rapidly.

“Yes what?”

Steban blinks in momentary confusion. It’s Ulixes who whispers, “Yes, sir...”

“Good. You will count them for me, and you will thank me after each one. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” they chorus.

Oh, they’re good. This is all getting to be much better than expected. The Smoker would shower them in praise, but that is not his role. It will have to wait.

“Very well,” he says instead, raises the whip and brings it down, hard, on Steban’s backside.

It shocks a cry of surprise out of him, but he recovers himself quickly. “One. Thank you, sir.”

“Good,” the Smoker says, keeping his voice clipped, summoning all his willpower to hide the immense arousal and utter fondness swirling within him. He turns towards Ulixes.

He keeps the force of his strikes uniform, but alternates the intervals, never letting them guess whom he’s going to hit when - it keeps them focused, keeps them straining to keep count, keeps them aware of each other. By number four, Steban’s hand shoots out and grabs that of Ulixes and squeezes, for emotional support. It’s against the rules - they’re supposed to maintain the position - but it’s so adorable that the Smoker can’t bring himself to forbid it.

Steban cums at number six. Ulixes tries to hold out, and makes it until number eight. At ten, when the Smoker puts the riding crop down, they’re both crying freely, glowing red where he struck them. They’re going to have trouble sitting down in class tomorrow. But tomorrow is tomorrow and now is now: time to haul them up into bed and into his arms, time for lotion and sweet tea and gentle reassurances that nothing he said in the scene was real, it was all a game, my darlings, don’t fret yourselves. They reach for him readily, blindly, still deep in subspace.

A bit later, once he’s got his words back, Steban mutters something that sounds like “Mmmnnnre you sure?”

The Smoker asks, “What was that, darling?”

“Are you sure that none of what you said about us was meant?” Steban asks, not detaching from where he’s nestled into the Smoker’s side.

“Love, it would be highly inappropriate of me to use a scene to vent real grievances like that.”

“And yet,” Steban says with a yawn before rolling up and falling asleep, “that nagging feeling.”

On one hand: Steban and Ulixes being turbo virgins

On the other hand: the Smoker doing a scene with them

#yeah i actually ended up writing it. and i'm not sure why #dash is dead as hell tonight. i'm gonna drop this and go to bed #more of my disco elysium impressions #steban can have a little a self awareness. as a treat #writings by me

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snackhobi · 4 years ago

Text

pairing: jungkook x reader / word count: 13.4k / genre: fluff + comedy (I suppose)

summary: you work the night shift in a supermarket. and now your crush, aka the cutest boy in the world, aka the guy you’ve been thirsting after for months, aka jeon jungkook, works the night shift too. les geddit

warnings: this fic is sfw BUT there is cursing/explicit language—the reader is thirsty af, just SO thirsty, seriously the thirstiest, but other than that this fic is pretty soft

a/n: thank you to my darling friend and beta reader @hobi-gif, without whom this would have remained an unpublished fic I just wrote for funsies, and also to @yeojaa for reading this through and enjoying this terrible self indulgence of mine, you’re both queens

Why is it that all the interesting things happen whenever you’re not at work? Like the time you'd been off for one (1) night so that you could move into your new place, so you hadn't witnessed the full on brawl between a customer and the security guard right before the store shut. Or the other time when you were twenty minutes late because of road closures and you’d missed all the free doughnuts—Yoongi hadn’t even saved you one, opting to give it to his crush instead, even though Jimin wasn’t even night shift.

(Yoongi was a Judas, betraying you all because of a little thirst. Snake.)

(Okay, sure, you're friends with Jimin too, but still.)

Anyway. You’re here almost all weeks of the year, and the few times you’re not, that’s when things get interesting. Working in any sort of retail job is boring at best, especially when the store is shut overnight (customers during the day were awful but at least they provided an ever rotating cast of varying characters that could provide amusing anecdotes to add to your repertoire), and it’s downright frustrating whenever you miss out on the few variations to your usually monotonous nights just because you happened to miss it.

Yoongi is also The Worst at keeping you updated. He has little to no interest in gossip and keeps himself firmly out of unnecessary interpersonal drama, staying uninvolved by being entirely unapproachable and blanking people whenever they try to talk to him. You keep out of it too, but in a different way— you don’t get involved in drama because everyone likes you. You’re personable and social, almost to a clownish degree, somehow treading the line between being Nice and Firm, so people simultaneously like you while also being wary of annoying you.

Either way. When you’re not there, Yoongi doesn’t go out of his way to find out any developments, so you’re always left floundering to catch up with whatever’s gone on so that you can keep your position as Liked-By-All-Sides as secure.

So, with all of this in mind, when he says that nothing interesting has happened in the two weeks since you’ve been off, you’re understandably sceptical, raising an eyebrow at him from where you’re reclining in his passenger seat. The entire supermarket could have burned down while he’d been working and Yoongi would probably say of the event afterwards—if pressed—that it had ‘been a little hotter than usual’.

(At least Jimin indulges you with petty gossip. You’re certain he’d let you know about any new developments, but he’s not on a late shift tonight, much to the disappointment of both yourself and Yoongi—although he won't admit it.)

You hadn’t sensed any ripples in the Force when you’d stepped into the supermarket. Everything looked the same, all the way down to the slightly wonky sign on the front display that was trying to persuade customers to buy the new lines of overpriced olives and antipasti, and nothing felt any different on your journey up to the locker rooms; the poster asking everyone to book their holiday before the 26th June 2001 was still up, as it should be; the sight of Yoongi walking in the direction of the staff canteen as you went to dump your stuff in your locker was as familiar as normal. You were usually good at sniffing out change, but everything had passed your smell check and so you let your guard down, bursting into the break room with your usual aplomb.

That’s one thing about night shift that people don’t usually realise. Because there aren’t customers around, you can yell up and down the shop floor as much as you like (it’s usually faster than walking around to find someone) and swear or be inappropriate in ways that wouldn’t fly during the day (like bowling products across the floor instead of walking up to the shelf and putting them down). You don’t swear or yell, really, but the amount of time you’ve spent on nights has increased your overall volume and altered your verbal filter, so once you’ve kicked the door open, what comes out of your mouth is as follows:

“Wassup everyone? Ya girl is back from her time off and is absolutely RARING to go! I know you all missed me, but please, no flash photography,” you simper. You hear Yoongi snort into his coffee from his seat on the sofa, directly under the sign that says ‘No Food Or Drink Allowed On The Sofas’ alongside a picture of a dancing hot dog with a massive red X across it.

Most of your coworkers are a lot older than you—young people don’t tend to work overnight—so they don’t match your level of energy, but they’re still pleased to see you nonetheless, a little chorus of hellos greeting you when you walk into the room. You shoot finger guns at them, ending with an overly theatrical wink at Taehyung, wiggling your fingers in a wave at the boy as he grins at you through his mouthful of food (he’s not night shift but he finishes a lot of his shifts late so you're on friendly terms).

When you flop down next to Yoongi he wordlessly hands you a coffee. You hiss a little at the contact of the hot mug against your skin—he’s holding onto the handle, and you’re quick to accept it from him so you don’t burn yourself—and peer down at the hot liquid before taking a small drink.

You’re mid-sip when your eyes flick up from the mug and you immediately splutter. You cough and hack, eyes filling with tears as you try to swallow the noises down to no avail; you sound distressed enough that even Yoongi gets concerned, thumping you on the back as you make a noise akin to a cat wheezing out a hairball.

“Yoongi.” Your voice is pained as you look out of the corner of your eye at the boy sitting next to you. “I thought you said nothing interesting had happened while I was off?”

Yoongi looks perplexed. “Nothing did,” he says. Somehow you resist the overwhelming urge to pour your coffee all over him.

“Then explain to me exactly why the Muscle Boy from morning shift who works on fruit and veg is sat over there in a night shift uniform,” you hiss.

“Oh, yeah.” Yoongi sounds entirely disinterested. “He moved on to nights the first week you were off.”

So not only has the hitherto-unreachable object of your affections moved on to your shift—great, you weren't mentally prepared for that at all—he'd apparently witnessed your unnecessarily theatrical entrance, as well as your subsequent near death experience via coffee. You wish that the near death experience had, in fact, been a full death experience; your final moments may have been undignified but at least you’d have gone out while looking at a pretty face and not have to live with the embarrassment afterwards, knowing that Jeon Jungkook had witnessed you spluttering coffee down your chin.

Normally your Jungkook-radar (Kookiedar? You’ll have to work on the name for it) is faultless, flawless, sensitive to his exact location at all times—but he was never there at night. You only saw him in the mornings, catching glimpses of him on your way out, lifting heavy crates of bananas or potatoes onto the displays. But he’s here, now, sat on his own table, alone, away from the other workers.

While you hadn’t spotted him before, what with how he’s sequestered himself alone, from your vantage point now? You can clearly see him, and you know that he would have had full view of you from the moment you’d stepped into the room.

He's on night shift now. With you.

“Yoongi, buddy?”

“Yeah?”

“If I asked you to kill me, would you do it?”

“No." His answer is immediate, but before you can be warmed by the fact he doesn’t wish for your imminent death, he continues: “I’d have to find someone else to reduce food for me, and I can’t go back to buying full priced noodles after this long.”

“I’ll reduce your head from your body,” you threaten, even though it makes no sense. Yoongi doesn’t react outwardly to this threat but you would wager anything that he was quivering in his boots, even though he’s doing a very good job of calmly sipping at his coffee. Ahh, Yoongi, always the master of the pokerface, despite the fact he must be terrified.

Anyway. You’re getting distracted. Basically, snake Yoongi had snaked on you and hadn’t told you about Jungkook transferring to night shift, like the snake he was. Yoongi being the snake, that is, not Jungkook. He wasn’t a snake. Sure, you’d never spoken to him in all the months you’d seen him and knew next to nothing about him but no one could be a snake when they looked that innocent. Besides, you’d seen him help customers, smiling at the old ladies who asked for him to reach for specific bits of fruit from higher shelves, or carrying their shopping for them, or—

Argh, you were getting distracted again. Essentially he was a hot, muscular angel who hadn’t had your existence on his own radar until approximately five minutes ago, and his first impression of you must be that you are an absolute clown. A buffoon. And, okay, maybe you are, but you usually only let people onto that fact after knowing them for at least a day or two.

He’d looked startled when you’d made eye contact with him across the canteen, tearing his eyes away from you the second you’d tried to inhale coffee instead of ingesting it. You’re grateful that he’s resolutely kept his gaze away, absorbed by something on his phone instead, but he must have heard your desperate wheezing from across the room. Even if you’ve managed to cough away the coffee in your lungs by now it doesn’t detract from the overall embarrassment that threatens to swallow you up.

Beside you, Yoongi continues to drink his coffee like a normal human being. He’s oblivious to your inner turmoil. Of course your crush had moved to night shift when you were on holiday. Of course you’d missed that. Why wouldn’t you? You were a snail and God was salting you. What had you done to deserve such torment?

“I can’t believe you didn’t think a new person was something I’d at least like to be made aware of,” you mutter waspishly. “Especially as he’s around our age! Since Hobi left we haven’t had anyone on shift who isn’t at least a decade older than us, Yoons.”

As is tradition, Yoongi says: “A moment of silence for our boy Hobi.” You both shut your eyes and tilt your heads forward as you mourn your fallen brother. (He wasn’t dead, he’d just moved to a different job a few months ago, although you both still see him on a weekly basis.) And then Yoongi continues: “I guess I didn’t think it was important.”

“Do you have a single wrinkle on your brain, Yoongi? Huh? Or is it completely smooth up there? Why wouldn’t a new night shift worker be something I’d want to know about?”

“I figured you’d find out eventually anyway.” Yoongi shrugs.

“I hope a stack of bread falls on you,” you say.

You’re glad when it hits 9pm and your manager, Sejin, gets everyone’s attention for the huddle so he can tell everyone where they’re working for the night. You normally don’t pay much attention but this time you’re like a bloodhound on a scent trail, sniffing out what where Jungkook is going to be.

“Jungkook, you’re on the fruit and veg section,” your manager says, and your nostrils flare. Of course. You’re entirely unsurprised when he delegates Jungkook to the fruit and vegetable aisles— it’s what the boy is familiar with, after all.

Most people in the store have areas they’re better at and do the same thing over and over, but you’re a bit of a wildcard, happy to work anywhere, so your own role varies a bit. You’d actually been there longer than Sejin, who’s a fairly new manager; he’d latched desperately onto you when he realised that you a) had been trained on pretty much everything and b) were also a pretty decent worker, on the whole, and so he allows you more freedom than he might afford other people.

So, because of this, you know that if you asked then he’d happily move you to a different area of the store, but you don't actually know where you want to go. You’re torn between hoping that you’re in a section near Jungkook (so you can ogle him) or the opposite of the store (so you’re saved any further shame due to the fact that you’re an absolute dunderhead, just an absolute embarrassment, why were you allowed outside?), but then Sejin tells you your job for the night and you can’t help a groan from escaping you.

“It’s my first shift back after my holiday and you want me to reduce all night?”

You can’t help but sound a little whiny. Reducing is so boring. Looking through everything on the shelf and scanning it and then having to stick the reduced labels on them? Over and over and over? For the whole night? Your brain is already shutting down in anticipation for the repetitive monotony. (You have to try to conserve what few brain cells you have left and you're not about to waste them on this.)

Sejin looks genuinely apologetic. “Some day staff called in sick so there weren’t enough people to finish everything. You only have the meat and fish sections to do.”

You’re so distressed at the idea of having to sift through piles of meat that you don’t notice how Jungkook perks up at this, sitting up a little in his seat; if you’d been paying attention you’d realise that the meat and fish area is directly adjacent to fruit and veg, both sections within direct eyesight of each other. Instead you’re remembering the time you’d had a packet of sea bass leak on you and no matter how many times you’d washed your hands, the fishy smell had remained. Eurgh.

“Alright, that’s everything!” Sejin claps his hands together. “Let’s get to work, everyone.”

There’s the usual grumblings and mutterings as people start to make their way out of the canteen and downstairs to start work. You take Yoongi’s mug from him and dump both of your empty cups into the hatch of the canteen, already resigning yourself to a long night of misery and boredom. Why did you choose to work in a supermarket, again?

You dawdle around upstairs for longer than you probably should once everyone’s gone, dreading the fact that you’re going to have to properly introduce yourself to Jungkook. Night shift is very insular and you can assume that no one’s introduced themselves to him or made an effort to be friendly— hence why he's been sitting alone. You’re the one person who works overnight who actually goes out of their way to introduce themselves to any new starters, but you’re fairly certain that if you try to introduce yourself to Jungkook you’ll end up throwing up on him. He’s just so hot that it makes you nervous.

You make a long drawn out ahhhhhhhhhhh noise, letting your frustration out before straightening up and puffing out your chest. It’s fine! You’re fine. You’re a strong, confident, smart night shift worker who’s introduced herself to new people multiple times before. Jungkook is just another person. Sure, he’s the cutest guy you’ve ever seen, but he’s just another person. It’s fine.

It’s not fine.

The second you round the corner to the fruit and veg section on your way to meat and fish, you see Jungkook effortlessly heft a massive crate of grapefruit as if it weighs nothing and you want to pass out. The one time you’d tried to lift a crate like that you’d almost done your back in, but Jungkook just lifts it with ease.

What’s worse is that while you’ve seen him do this before, he’d been wearing a day shift uniform at the time. The day shift uniform is, honestly, pretty ugly, an ugly beige long-sleeve button up with an equally ugly tan tie under an ugly grey apron (but of course Jungkook had still looked radiant in spite of the ugly ensemble he was forced to wear). The night shift uniform isn’t necessarily attractive either, a simple black polo shirt and combat trousers, but unlike the button up, the polo shirt is a t-shirt— and Jungkook’s rolled the already shorter sleeves up so that all of his arm is on display (holy shit he has tattoos). You can see the flex of his muscles in all their glory, the way his biceps bulge as he lifts the crate higher, the veins that run down to his hands, and your mouth floods with saliva.

“Arm,” you say.

“Pardon?” Jungkook looks up, confused, and then startles when he sees you.

“Um, nothing!” you stutter. There’s a loose lock of hair hanging across his forehead and you stare at that rather than looking into his eyes. You’d probably burst into flames if you made eye contact right now. “I just wanted to, uh, introduce myself? I know you’ve been working nights for a few weeks now so I’m kind of late, but I was on holiday. I’m Y/n.”

“I know,” Jungkook says, and then he sees how your eyes widen and he scrabbles to explain. “Uh, Sejin said it during the meeting.” He swallows.

You cough. Of course. There’s no other reason Jungkook would have known your name without you telling him; you sincerely doubt he’d sleuthed your name out via the rotas pinned on the board, much as you had with him. (You swear you’re not a stalker, he’s just really cute, okay?)

“I’m Jungkook,” he finishes, laughing awkwardly.

“I guessed,” you say, pointing at his name badge like that’s the reason you know it. He stares down at his chest, as if he’d forgotten that he had it pinned there, and although you'd genuinely been looking at the badge, you suddenly notice that you can see the definition of his pecs even with the thick fabric of the polo shirt. You want to pass out again. You need to divert your attention to something else, stat, your brain scrambling for something to say next. “You know, you’re the only person on night shift who’s wearing a badge. No one else does.”

You wince. Great. Now you sound like an asshole. Nice going, idiot.

Jungkook glances away from his badge to your finger, which is still pointing. He’s staring at your nail polish. Even though no one cares what the night shift gets up to, nail polish is technically against the rules and you wonder if he’s about to say something derogatory—you’d deserve it, you were just kind of a dick to him—when he smiles instead. “I like your nails.”

“O-oh,” you stutter, surprised. They’re nothing special, the colour a little chipped in places, but you’re still flattered by how genuine Jungkook’s compliment sounds. “Um. Thanks.” And because you have a habit of responding to compliments with one of your own, you say: "I really like your tattoos. The flowers are beautiful."

Jungkook looks stunned and doesn't respond. You spend a few moments staring at each other before Sejin rounds the corner, and you both abruptly turn away so it doesn’t look like you’re just standing around and talking instead of working (although that is, in fact, what you’re doing). You hustle over to the meat section, grabbing packs of bacon and pretending to look at the dates, even though you have no idea what date it is. No thoughts head full of Jungkook.

Over the years, you’ve mastered the art of Quick Glancing™. While to anyone watching you it would seem as though you’re absorbed in your work, sifting through food to check if it’s going out of date, you’re actually looking at Jungkook more often than not. Whenever it seems like he might catch you, your eyes dart back to whatever cut of meat you’re holding at the time—a box of liver, eww, slimy—but you spend the majority of the time watching him move around. You can’t help but wonder if he’d lift you as easily as those crates and have to suppress a full body shiver. Down, girl.

Yoongi appears like clockwork the second it hits midnight, leaning against the fridge as you stare at a pack of chicken wings. “Coffee time.”

“Oh, thank God.” You straighten up, unceremoniously dropping the chicken wings onto the shelf. “Caffeine, I need caffeine, get me the caffeine.”

You get the caffeine. You and Yoongi always go back to the canteen at midnight for coffee—even though you’re technically not meant to—and bring your mugs downstairs—something else you’re also not meant to do. You drink your coffee between looking at the packets of food on the shelf, sifting through trays of chicken breasts and stickering whatever's due to go out of date as Yoongi idles around near you, peering at everything you’ve slapped a reduced label on. He clicks his tongue at a lacklustre reduction, unimpressed at how little money has been slashed off the price, and honestly? Mood.

“Don’t you have bread to put out?”

“Finished it. I’m waiting for the next delivery.” Yoongi yawns, but then his eyes suddenly narrow as he looks in the direction of fruit and veg. “Your new little friend keeps looking at us. I think he might be a narc.”

“Huh? Oh, Jungkook?” You look up from the chicken thighs. Jungkook is far out of earshot but clearly visible, hunched over a shelf as he starts to furiously organise some courgettes. “Nah, I don’t think he’s a narc. Besides, what’s Sejin going to do? Fire us? We get coffee all the time and he's never said anything about it before.”

“Yeah, but Jungkook doesn’t know that.” Yoongi scowls. He sounds suspicious. “Hm. I’m going to go back to bread, but keep an eye on that one.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. “Got it,” you say with a salute.

Yoongi wanders off but not before throwing Jungkook a sharp look, which the boy doesn’t notice, resolutely staring at the courgettes. Seems like he’s really intent on making them look neat, which you think is kind of unnecessary, but whatever. It's kind of cute actually.

You don’t think Jungkook is a snitch, but you do have to admit it’s maybe a little weird how often you seem to catch him watching you, though he’s very quick to look away. Your suspicions grow somewhat when he ends up in the canteen at the same time as you, eating your lunch a lot later than everyone else. You like the peace and quiet when the room is almost empty.

Yoongi normally has lunch with you, but today he’d had to eat earlier because Sejin had asked him to help unload the delivery lorry, so you’re alone in the room with Jungkook. Although he sits on the table farthest away from you, it’s maybe a bit strange that he’s up there when you are. Like, sure, you do appreciate the fact that you can gawk at him a little bit more, but maybe Yoongi is right about him being a narc?

Nah. You’re probably just being paranoid. Jungkook is clearly introverted, not talking to the other guys working on the fruit and veg section, so he probably came up at the quietest time of day (/night) so he could avoid everyone. You can understand that.

Your lunch is almost over and you’re in the middle of making yourself and Yoongi another cup of coffee to take downstairs when Jungkook suddenly appears at your shoulder. You yelp in surprise when you notice him there, scattering coffee granules across the counter instead of dropping them in the cup like you’d meant to, clutching your chest in shock.

“Oh, God, sorry,” he apologises, and he fumbles as he scoops the granules into his palm to clear them up—and then he just stands there with a handful of instant coffee as he looks at you. You’re still clutching your heart. “Uh. I was wondering, do you bring your own coffee in?”

“Yes,” you say, cagey, unsure what he wants. You notice that he’s unintentionally cornered you against the counter, and now that your earlier shock has ebbed away, you can’t help but notice your height difference when he’s this close to you. “Can’t get coffee overnight otherwise. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, uh, I just didn’t realise we were allowed to?” Jungkook sounds awkward, unsure. “I would have brought my own in if I’d known.”

You stare at him for a second. Yoongi would kill you if he saw what you did next, but you just end up turning around to grab another mug and dump a spoonful of coffee into it. “Do you have milk or sugar?”

“Huh?”

“Do you have milk or sugar? In your coffee?” You repeat carefully, tapping a spoon against the third mug, trying to tamp down the blush that’s threatening to appear on your cheeks when you glance at Jungkook over your shoulder. “You want one, right?”

“Oh.” He goes a little lax with surprise, apparently not realising that he’s done so until he drops a few bits of coffee on the floor and then lifts his hand again—you can see where the granules that are directly in contact with his skin have started to dissolve a little, sticky. The pile of coffee looks so small in his big hands. You want to eat out of his palm, as gross as that thought is. “Yeah, milk and sugar, please.”

As he goes to wash the coffee from his hands, you stare at yourself in the reflection of the metal kettle, wondering what the fuck you were doing while also trying to tame your thirst into submission. You never let anyone have your coffee (except Yoongi, obviously, and Hobi, when he’d been here) (a moment of silence for your boy) and you’ve known Jungkook for less than one (1) shift and you’ve already initiated him as part of the Coffee Crew.

Yoongi picks up on this immediately, spotting you and Jungkook reemerging onto the shop floor at the same time, although you peel away to visit your friend in the bread section. “Is that a mug that I saw Jungkook holding?”

“Yeah,” you say with forced casualness, wary of Yoongi’s response. Here we go.

But to your surprise he seems pleased. “He can’t narc on us now that he’s drinking coffee on the shop floor too,” Yoongi says.

“Oh, right! Yeah, that was my plan all along.” You force laughter, as if your pulse hadn’t been racing as you’d watched Jungkook take the first sip from the coffee you’d prepared for him, worried that he wouldn’t like it. You’d wanted to vomit your heart out of chest when he’d given you a small, shy smile and said that it was perfect, as if he wasn’t drinking cheap, crappy instant coffee, which was subpar even when it was good.

Yoongi raises his eyebrows at your fake hyena laughter but decides not to comment on it.

He raises his eyebrows again the next night when he witnesses you preparing coffee for Jungkook firsthand, lining up three mugs at midnight instead of just two, making coffee the way Jungkook likes it. “Once was enough to stop him from double crossing us, I think,” Yoongi says.

“I’m making this for him because I want Jungkook to be part of the group,” you say firmly, ignoring the way your hand trembles a little when you say this. Jungkook had waved goodbye to you when he’d spotted you in the morning after your first shift together, and tonight he’d made eye contact when you’d walked into the break room—more quietly than you had the day before—before smiling at you. (You’re constantly torn between wanting to coo at how adorable he is or begging him to bend you over a table, and it’s hard to keep these thoughts from showing on your face whenever you smile at him, but you’re doing a damn good job.)

Yoongi, despite his usual unflappable nature, looks absolutely floored. Even though you’d both spoken to Hoseok from the moment he’d started working with you, it had taken you a few weeks before you’d even offered to get him a drink at midnight, a mutual decision both you and Yoongi had agreed upon. And here you were, inviting Jungkook in without consulting your coworker-turned-best-friend, after one night. (You’re sure Hobi wouldn’t mind, but you feel kind of bad when you think about it and resolve to pay for his lunch when you see him next week.)

Yoongi squints at you as you keep your attention focused on the coffee and so don’t see the realisation settling across his features.

“Oh,” he says once it’s clicked. “You wanna suck his dick.”

You end up scattering coffee across the counter again. At this rate you may as well just pour the granules straight into the bin and cut out the middle man.

“Yeah, you wanna suck his dick,” Yoongi muses, watching as you grouse and clean up the coffee.

“At least when I talk about your crush on Jimin I have the decency to not be crude about it,” you say, jabbing a finger in Yoongi’s direction. He flushes.

“I don’t have a crush on Jimin,” he scowls. You scoff.

“Oh, please, Yoons. You’re not as subtle as you think. If I catch you staring at Jimin’s ass one more time with those googly eyes of yours I’m gonna yarf.” Jimin’s ass, admittedly, is very nice, the awful work trousers somehow flattering on him, but it’s the reverence with which Yoongi looks at it that makes his crush obvious. Amongst plenty of other things. “And you let him have my doughnut! As if that isn’t practically a declaration of marriage!”

“You’re still going on about the doughnut?” Yoongi rolls his eyes. “That happened months ago.”

“It was a limited edition Krispy Kreme doughnut, Yoons!” Your voice has gone shrill. “A motherfucking Kit Kat doughnut! The only reason I didn’t strike you down where you stood is because I fully support your crush on Jimin, even if I think it’s ridiculous you haven’t asked him out already! Anyway,” you say, letting the spoon clatter into the mug. “Whether or not I want to suck Jungkook’s dick, I miss having a third person in this group. Hobi actually laughed at my jokes.”

“I laugh at your jokes when they’re funny.”

“You never laugh at them!”

“I said what I said.”

“I’m going to poison your coffee so Jungkook and I can drink the rest in peace,” you say. “Oh, moment of silence for Hobi, we almost forgot.” The moment of silence lasts for a second, and then you’re pouring the freshly boiled water into the mugs.

“I guess I should talk to Jungkook, then.” Yoongi still sounds suspicious and you glare at him as you stir the coffee.

“If I find out that you’re being mean to him, I will genuinely poison your drink,” you say, lifting the spoon and gesturing with it aggressively enough that a droplet of coffee goes flying off and lands on Yoongi’s face. You have no doubt that Jungkook could snap Yoongi like a twig if he wanted to, but Jungkook seems far too nice for that, and Yoongi can be surprisingly intimidating.

“You won’t poison me.” He wipes the coffee away, unperturbed.

You snort. “I’ll use decaff and I won’t tell you.”

This makes Yoongi’s eyes narrow. “You wouldn’t dare.”

"Watch me.”

With that threat firmly in place, you feel a little better when you hand Jungkook’s coffee to Yoongi to give to him. You’re not near the fruit and vegetable section tonight so you won’t be able to keep a direct eye on them, but you’ll catch up with Yoongi once he’s wandered back over to bread.

You’re starting to feel a bit suspicious at how long Yoongi’s been absent for and so you make your way across the shop floor to see if you can find him. To your infinite surprise you spot both guys near the salads, Yoongi perched on an upturned crate while Jungkook puts watercress onto the shelf, the two of them in deep discussion about something. You feel like you’ve stepped into the Twilight Zone when you see Yoongi genuinely laugh and you back away, unsettled.

When you eat lunch that night, Jungkook sits with you on your table at Yoongi’s behest. It’s still a quiet affair, like normal—you take as many opportunities as you can to sneak glances at Jungkook, surprised at exactly how much food he puts away—but when he offers to make the coffee, you have a hushed conversation with Yoongi while your muscle boy is distracted. You keep your eyes fixed on Jungkook’s back, and it really is unfair how good his shoulder blades look with that black material stretched across them. There’s no point in trying to hide your thirst from Yoongi now that he knows about it so you’re free to stare.

“I thought you said he was a narc,” you whisper, eyes still fixed on Jungkook's back. How is his waist so small? (Lord have mercy on your soul.)

“Nah, Jungkook is okay,” Yoongi replies. In Yoongi-speak this means that he really likes Jungkook and you’re flabbergasted.

You don’t get a chance to say anything else before Jungkook is turning around, proffering your drinks to you with a bright smile—you can see his teeth, and you’ve never wanted to lick someone’s teeth before but apparently the sight of Jungkook’s mouth will do that to you, who would have guessed. It’s been two shifts and you’re already this dehydrated, just dying of thirst, shrivelled up like Spongebob in that episode where he visits Sandy’s dome for the first time. You’re a crusty thirsty sponge and Jungkook is a tall, sexy glass of water.

(You’re so fucking screwed.)

The thing with initiating Jungkook into the Coffee Crew is that you’re faced with the reality of his good looks constantly. Jungkook still doesn’t talk to anyone else, really, but he lights up around Yoongi and yourself, and you start to look forward to seeing those shiny doe eyes of his, the way he perks up whenever he sees you.

Work quickly becomes the highlight of your week, which is something you thought you'd never say, but Jungkook is just too powerful. Everything about him is absolutely fucking devastating, a few examples being:

The night when it’s a little warmer, and he unbuttons all three buttons on his polo shirt—you can see his collarbones and the tiniest bit of his chest, going feral over such a small slip of skin like you’re some sort of Victorian lady who keeps her ankles hidden in public and you’ve never seen bare skin before.

Or when you got caught behind him on the stairs while he’s explaining the difference between meat protein and vegetable protein—you get a wonderful view of his ass, which you take full advantage of (respectfully). You get another look at said ass when he plays a game of pool against Yoongi while you sit on the sofa and watch, Jungkook leaning over the wonky pool table so that he can make a particularly difficult shot, placing his wonderful butt directly into your line of vision.

Or when you notice that even though Jungkook cycles to work, he never seems to smell like sweat, and instead he just smells like fresh clothes, clean linen that’s so potent you can smell him before you see him. But no one smells that much like clean laundry, right? It must be his cologne.

“Jungkook, do you wear cologne?”

Jungkook, to his credit, doesn’t seem surprised at your question and just answers it like he would any other. “No, why?”

“Oh, it’s just that you smell nice? Sort of like whatever 'clean cotton' is apparently meant to smell like. Y’know? Like fresh laundry.”

“I do wash my clothes every day,” he says. “I guess you could call me a bit of a clean freak?”

For some reason, the fact that he smells so nice because of his clothes is just so hot. You want to bury your face in his shirt and just breathe him in, but that would be weird and creepy and invasive. So you don’t do that and instead allow yourself to sniff from a polite distance, olfactory senses working overtime whenever he’s nearby.

(Yoongi finds you uncapping all the detergents down the laundry aisle one night, desperately huffing each type to try and work out which one Jungkook uses. “Jesus Christ,” he says, watching as you take a particularly long drag of whatever Spring Day is—it’s pleasant, whatever it is, but it’s not what you’re looking for. “Are you trying to get high?”

“Smell this,” you say instead, shoving it in his face. He takes a wary sniff, nose crinkling. “This is nice, isn’t it?”

“I guess?” Yoongi seems baffled. “Okay, you’re clearly busy, I’ll tell Sejin to ask someone else to do the job.” You don’t reply, too busy sucking in a lungful of Crystal Snow as Yoongi backs away.)

Jungkook also seems to have this weird knack of appearing whenever you need help lifting or moving something heavy. Normally you hate it when someone steps in to help you, a little offended at the idea that you can’t do something yourself—you've been doing this for long enough that you've developed a technique for things—but when Jungkook does it you don’t feel disrespected at all. He’s just so nice about it.

Like the time when you’re struggling to move an empty wooden pallet and put it on top of a stack of others; not only is it heavy, it's large and unwieldy, too. The last time you’d tried to move one of these you’d ended up hitting it against your shins while also getting a palmful of splinters. You hate these things. Jungkook, however, materialises out of seemingly nowhere and offers you his help. He ends up lifting the thing himself, squatting down to grab it and just tossing it on top of the pile. He does it effortlessly, literally effortlessly, like the pallet weighs nothing to him, and when you ask if he thought it was heavy, he blinks.

“No, not really,” he says. You have to bite the inside of your mouth to stop yourself from screeching.

“You must lift a lot of weights,” you say, weakly, and Jungkook nods.

“I’ve started incorporating weights into my pull up routine recently, too.”

“Oh? Do you, like… tie them to yourself or something? Uh. How heavy are they?”

Jungkook perks up, apparently excited at the opportunity of talking about exercise. “I hold a fifteen kilogram weight in one hand while I do a pull up with the other,” he says.

Your legs feel weak at this mental image and you end up sitting on the stack of pallets as Jungkook starts to tell you about the rest of his workout routine, and when you find out he does kickboxing as well, you almost have to excuse yourself so that you can try and calm down. Instead you grin and bear it, your fingers digging into your thighs in the horniest grip known to man, acting like this is just a normal conversation that is absolutely not affecting you, no sir, no sirree, holy shit you’re going to die.

That night you do have to excuse yourself at lunch when you make a comment on Jungkook’s food, and he says that he needs to keep his calorie count up because he’s bulking at the moment.

“Bulking? Like for abs?” Yoongi asks.

“I already have abs,” Jungkook says dismissively. Your leg jolts under the table and your knee hits the underside of it, sending your empty lunch box almost flying to the floor, and Jungkook and Yoongi look at you in alarm. “Are you alright, Y/n?”

“Bathroom,” you gasp. “I gotta—bathroom. Lady stuff.”

You splash water over your face and run it over your wrists, desperately trying to cool down. You’d suspected he had abs, for multiple reasons, not least of all the fact that whenever he leaned back in his chair the material of his shirt would settle on his stomach in a way that hinted at the shape of the muscles underneath, but to hear him confirm it—like it was nothing—good lord. (Yoongi’s caught you staring at Jungkook’s stomach multiple times when the boy was distracted, but you’re beyond caring. If you have to deal with Yoongi fawning over Jimin then he can put up with you ogling Jungkook.)

When you come back, Yoongi is at the counter making your coffees while Jungkook is still sitting at the table. You slide back into your seat, about as composed as you’re going to get, when Jungkook leans towards you.

“Are you okay?” He looks worried. “I have some heat pads in my locker if, um, you wanted them, if you’re having period pains?” he says, but then he looks unsure. “I don’t know if you’re actually meant to use them on your tummy, though.”

Tummy. You want to squeal at how cute the word is, not to mention the fact that Jungkook doesn’t seem bothered about talking about period related stuff, unlike a lot of guys you’d known. “Oh, uh, no, thanks, Jungkook,” you say, flushing. “That’s really nice of you but I’m alright.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says, although he’s still clearly concerned. “Let me know if you change your mind.”

And that’s the other thing. You still think Jungkook is the hottest person you’ve ever seen, of course, but he’s also so nice. And hardworking. And sweet. And gentle and thoughtful and determined and talented and just—he's just a whole lot of man, really, just so much, too much. Initially you’d been attracted to him based purely on how cute he was, but now that you've actually gotten to know him, your attraction has morphed into a full-on all consuming crush that’s absolutely catastrophic.

Even when you’re not at work, you keep zoning out because you’re thinking about: Jungkook’s arms, Jungkook’s thighs, Jungkook’s face, Jungkook’s personality, or a mix of all of the above. You can’t focus on things when all you can think about is Jungkook.

Jimin, of course, has been kept fully up to date with the situation. You squat behind the bakery counter whenever he’s on a late shift, hiding away from prying eyes so that you can talk to him as he tidies up, although you know he’s making moony eyes at Yoongi, who’ll glance back at him between the shelves of bread.

You groan into your hands from your cross legged position on the floor, sat atop a flattened croissant box, and Jimin pats you sympathetically on the head.

“Jungkook is very cute,” says Jimin. You groan again.

“I want him to raw me,” you say. Yoongi must have been closer than you thought because you hear a noise of disgust from the other side of the counter before the sound of his footsteps moving away. Jimin laughs his tinkly little laugh as you continue to speak. “But I also want him to hold my hand? And I wanna kiss his cute little forehead. And make him breakfast in bed. Ugh. I hate this,” you whine.

Jimin pats your head again. “Why don’t you ask him for coffee?”

You take your head out of your hands and fix him with a pout. “Why don’t you?”

“You know I don’t ask people for coffee, Y/n, I’m the one who gets asked,” Jimin says, and you know he’s projecting his voice so that Yoongi can hear him. You also know that Yoongi is too dense to pick up on this obvious flirtation, even though you can see how Jimin throws a wink in the direction of where Yoongi must be; you don’t turn to look over the counter but you hear the distinct sound of someone walking into a stack of bread and knocking it over, before Yoongi swears. Jimin just looks fond.

“Oh my God, just marry each other already,” you mutter.

“He has to ask me out first,” Jimin says, softly enough that Yoongi can’t hear from where he must be furiously tidying up the bread, if the sound of plastic packaging and low curses are anything to go by. “Seriously, Y/n, it sounds like Jungkook likes you as well. I think you should just go for it.”

You sigh. “Jungkook’s so far out of my league it’s like we’re not even playing the same sport. He’s sinking three pointers while I’m, I don’t know, whacking balls with a croquet mallet,” you mumble.

Jungkook is nice and funny and works out and is hot, so hot, the kind of hot that has people literally stopping to look at him. (You certainly had, the first time you'd spotted him down an aisle, doing a literal double take at how cute he was.) You, meanwhile, are a clown whose sense of humour has been warped by years of niche internet memes, you drink more coffee than is probably medically advisable, and make-up can only take you up to a shaky 6/10 on a very good day. All in all: Not Exactly A Catch.

Jimin clearly disagrees. “Don’t be stupid, Y/n.” He sounds genuinely mad, frowning at you. "If I didn’t like Yoongi I absolutely would have asked you out by now. Jungkook would be lucky to have you, you are a wholeass meal.”

“Yoongi compared me to a slug the other day,” you say. Admittedly it was because he’d knocked on your door when you’d been in the middle of shaving your legs, your skin shining with coconut oil—so the slug slime comment was definitely warranted and hadn’t been an insult—but Jimin’s expression turns murderous, unaware of the context.

“Min Yoongi, you get over here right now,” he hisses. Yoongi is there in seconds. “Did you call Y/n a slug?”

Yoongi’s face looms at you from over the counter. “Should’ve called her a snake instead,” he says, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“Hiss hiss,” you say. “That’s what you get for chatting shit about coconut oil.”

Jimin blinks before his face goes smooth and a look of understanding crosses his features, raising an eyebrow at you. You bat your eyelashes at him innocently.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “I’m going back to the bagels,” he says, but then his voice is gentle when he continues: “Unless you need something else, Jimin?”

“No, thank you, Yoongi.” He smiles at Yoongi, soft and sweet, instantly forgetting about the slug comment.

The two of them look at each other like the rest of the world has ceased to exist and you mime throwing up, but because they’re looking at each other like the rest of the world has ceased to exist, neither of them notice. You hear Yoongi’s footsteps recede and you lift your hands in despair.

“How is it even when I’m having a breakdown over a boy, the two of you manage to be so incredibly gay over each other?”

“It’s a talent,” Jimin says. “Besides, as happy as I am to listen to you, there’s only so many ways you can say I wanna suck Jungkook’s dick so bad, or he’s so adorable, what the fuck, or oh my God, Jungkook is so hot and I’m so thirsty, which are all things you’ve said, verbatim, multiple times.”

“It’s true.” You pout. “You’ve only seen Jungkook from a distance, anyway. He’s even better up close.” The bakery section is the other side of the supermarket, as far away from the fruit and veg section as you can possibly get; Jungkook has a much better work ethic than you and Yoongi and actually stays in his area to work, so he hasn’t met Jimin properly yet.

Jimin’s expression becomes thoughtful. “You know what, that’s true,” he says.

You’re immediately on guard. Jimin is well-meaning and considerate and kind, but he also loves to meddle and has absolutely no shame about it—the second you see that glint in his eyes, you think that maybe you’ve said something you shouldn’t have, but then you notice the time and your eyes widen.

“Oh, shit, I better go pretend to work before Sejin realises I’m missing.” You scrabble to your feet. “If I don’t see you before you go, have a safe drive home, Jimin!”

Jimin’s usually pretty punctual about leaving on time (even if he’ll hang around to talk to Yoongi, ugh). You wander over to the fruit section to help Sejin fill a display stand, and you freeze in the middle of lifting some apples into a paper bag when you spot Jimin talking to Jungkook. Jimin looks coy, Jungkook looks confused, and you? You probably look constipated. Why is Jimin still here?

You only realise that your mouth is open when Jimin spots you and winks, overexaggerated and theatrical. Your mouth snaps shut as Jungkook’s attention turns to whatever he’s winking at. You duck out of sight before he can spot you, scampering down the length of the store before practically throwing your apples at Sejin, who is understandably caught off guard and fails to catch the bag.

“I’ll go get some blueberries for the other shelf from the back room,” you bark in his face, all but running away before he can respond, leaving him surrounded by the escapee apples (escapples?) that are rolling away from him. You skulk around the entrance of the fruit and veg room for a little while, waiting for Jimin to leave via the staff exit—directly across from where you’re standing—but he doesn’t appear and you can only pretend to look for blueberries for so long, eventually returning to Sejin while despondently clutching the trays of berries.

Jungkook doesn’t seem any different when you make your midnight coffee run, and lunch is about as normal as usual. When you mention Jimin, he smiles, saying that it was nice to finally meet him, but other than seemingly slightly distracted—as if deep in thought—that’s it. There’s no hint that Jimin mentioned anything about you at all, least of all your crush—thank God—but you can feel the ripples in the Force. (Or maybe that was all the coffee you were drinking, seriously, maybe you should slow down?) You know that it’s not a coincidence that you’d had yet another meltdown about Jungkook right before Jimin had introduced himself to the object of your affections. You also know that Jimin knows that you know that, utterly shameless as always.

Jimin is on another late shift the next night. You squat behind the bakery counter when it’s unmanned, Jimin going outside to throw away some old baguettes or whatever, and you (metaphorically) pounce on him when he reappears. “Park Jimin.”

Jimin is entirely unsurprised. In fact he even has a box for you to sit on, proffering a flattened piece of porridge packaging; you feel uncomfortable at the idea of sitting on the Quaker Oats guy’s face and flip it over so you can see brown cardboard rather than his weirdly smug expression looking up at you. “Yes?”

“What exactly were you talking to Jungkook about last night?” You peer up at him, attempting to look at least somewhat threatening, but it’s kind of hard when you’re so much lower to the ground than Jimin is right now. Jimin has to look down at you so far that he’s given himself a double chin, but he’s still gorgeous, because of course he is. (He should leave some for the rest of you, jeez.)

“Oh, a lot of things,” Jimin says. “You were right about him being a sweetheart. He’s very nice. I approve.”

“What are you, my dad?” You mutter to yourself, but then: “You didn’t say anything about my crush, did you?”

Jimin is a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them. So when he answers you with a simple “no” you believe him, although you can’t help but still feel a little suspicious. Your gut might be full of coffee more often than not, but she’s also a smart bitch—smarter than your brain for sure—and your gut is telling you that Park Jimin must have done or said something.

“Yoongi is putting the tortillas out, so excuse me if I’m distracted,” Jimin says. The tortilla wraps are on the bottom shelf so Yoongi has to bend over to work them. You make a face of disgust and stand up to leave.

“Fine, me and the Quaker Oats guy will take ourselves elsewhere.” You tuck the flattened box snugly under your arm. “We know when we’re not wanted.”

You feel a little bad later when you put the box into the industrial baler that you have, the machine crushing all of your cardboard flat, saddened that you’ve had to part from your new friend so soon. Bye, Quaker Oats guy.

Jungkook finds you standing in front of the baler with a genuinely sad expression on your face, silent as the machine makes mechanical squealing and wailing noises while it crushes the boxes inside it. “Uh. Is everything okay?” He asks, delicate.

“It will be eventually,” you say solemnly, but then you look away from the baler and immediately brighten, smiling at him. “Did you need me for something?”

Jungkook looks at you for a second and then shakes his head. “I was just out here to get some more stock from the back room,” he says, and you both get back to work, unaware of the glances you steal at each other as you part.

Later that night—well, technically, morning—you see someone you haven’t seen for a while, and you gasp with excitement when you spot him. “Namjoon!” You holler down the aisle, far too loud and energetic at 5am, jogging up to him. “I thought you stopped morning shifts!”

Namjoon is a beautiful tree of a man, tall and long limbed, and probably the nicest person you’ve ever met. You’ve missed his dimples. “I did, but, I’m doing a bit of overtime,” he says, and you can’t help but smile up at him.

You’re so caught up in your laughter, cackling at a story that Namjoon is telling you, that you don’t notice Jungkook spotting you from the other end of the aisle. He circles around a few times, pretending to be straightening up the shelves, but watches as you shuffle closer to Namjoon, your heads practically knocking against each other as you stare intently at something on his phone. Jungkook can’t bear it any longer and starts to walk over. He has no idea what he’s planning to do once he gets there but he’s marching over anyway, and that's when you spot him.

“Jungkook, Jungkook!” You beckon him over—like he wasn’t coming in your direction already—and you sound so excited. “Jungkook, look, puppies!”

Jungkook has no idea who the tall guy is but he’s nice enough to turn his phone towards Jungkook without being asked to. There are multiple puppies tumbling over each other in the video, nosing at each other and flopping around. “I thought a golden retriever would be good for Jin, because he’s never had a dog before,” the tall man says, and you coo.

“They’re so cute! Oh my God, Joon, you should get one of those little bandanas you could tie around their necks, those are adorable,” you squeal. “Ahh, I love dogs so much. Don’t you, Jungkook?” Your eyes are shining as you look up at him, excited.

Jungkook feels like he needs to sit down. “Of course. Who doesn’t?” He says, and you beam at him; he has to dig his fingers into his palms at how cute you are. He desperately turns his attention back to the video, where one of the puppies is nosing at a ball. “Look at them retrieve.”

“Retrieve my heart,” you say, clutching your chest. “Ahh, gosh, Joonie, you’re really living the dream, moving in with your hot boyfriend and getting a dog together.” You’re too busy imagining living in that reality to notice how all the tension leaves Jungkook the second he hears that Namjoon has a boyfriend. Oblivious. “Anyway, you should probably get back to work, I’ve distracted you for long enough. Sorry!”

“No problem.” Namjoon quirks a smile at you, nodding at Jungkook before moving away.

“Ahh, Namjoon is so lucky,” you say wistfully. “He’s so nice though, he deserves it.”

Jungkook is looking at you, curious. “You really get to know everyone, don’t you?”

“Huh?” You blink. “What? Yeah, I guess. Is that weird?”

“No.” Jungkook pauses, and you think that’s all he’s going to say on the matter, but then his mouth opens again. “You’re just so nice to everyone, and you actually pay attention to what they say and remember it. Most of the time when people talk, they don’t actually listen, they’re just waiting for when it’s their turn to talk about themselves, but you don’t do that. It’s cool,” he adds, belatedly. “I really admire it.”

You’re staring at him in shock. No one’s ever said anything like that before, complimented you in such a wholehearted way about something they’ve noticed about you. It's thrown you for a loop. You’re so used to thinking of yourself as a clown—a friendly clown, sure, but a clown nonetheless—that you’re genuinely shaken to the core after hearing what Jungkook’s just said about you.

He looks alarmed when you don’t respond, just blinking up at him as your brain desperately tries to reboot, but you’re saved from having to reply when Sejin calls out to you.

“Y/n, the computer at the front desk is playing up again." His hands are cupped around his mouth, amplifying himself so that you can hear him down the aisle. “You’re the only one who knows how to fix it.”

You snap out of your daze. “Again? You’ve tried turning it off and on again, right?” You’re about to walk away from Jungkook, but first you glance up at him, shy. “Um. Thanks for always being so nice, Kookie. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” he says. He sounds a little breathless. You don’t have time to ask why, Sejin’s noise of distress catching your attention.

“I’m coming!” You rush off, nearly tripping on a loose grape on the floor; you manage to regain your balance with minimal flailing, unaware of how Jungkook fondly watches you go.

A few weeks later, you get sick.

You’re really bad at being sick, one of the reasons being that you don’t like to admit that you are sick—and so you still roll into work despite the fact you’re clearly unwell.

“You look like a body that’s just been fished out of the water.” Yoongi shows his concern in an interesting way. “Like you’ve been floating belly up near that trash island in the middle of the ocean that’s the size of Texas.”

You fix him with a baleful stare. He’d threatened to not let you into his car earlier, locking the door as you’d been reaching for the handle; he’d only relented after you’d hissed at him and scrabbled at the glass like some sort of feral cat.

“You do look a bit more tired than usual,” Jungkook says delicately.

You groan. The noise sounds like it’s being ripped out of your throat, which feels as dry as the sahara desert; why are your throat and eyes so dry while your nose keeps running? Why is the liquid in all the wrong places? The human body is a wreck. (After glancing at Jungkook, who looks as perfect as always, you mentally correct yourself—your body is a wreck.)

“I’m fine,” you rasp, and then sniff, trying to stop your nose from dripping. Jungkook hands you a tissue. “I don’t need this, because I’m not sick, but thank you.”

You proceed to blow your nose loudly into the tissue, a trumpeting noise that trails off into a squeak, a sad little thing that sounds like the farting noise a balloon makes when all the air finally escapes it. Yoongi snorts with amusement but Jungkook’s brow is furrowed with concern.

Rather than being disgusted at your appearance—you’re not sick, you’re just suffering from mild allergies or something, so maybe you’ll admit that you look a little washed out—Jungkook has been worried about you from the moment you’d walked in. He’d even offered you his work fleece when he’d caught you shivering, which you’d graciously accepted. (Again, you weren’t shivering because you were sick, it’s just weirdly cold in the store today, even though no one else seems to be affected by it.) (Also, like, hello? The man of your dreams was offering you the chance to wear his clothes? As if you were going to say no to that.)

Despite definitely not being sick, you do sort of feel like your head is full of cotton wool, and everything seems so much louder than usual. Sejin takes pity on you and gives you the surprisingly easy job of counting stock out back in the warehouse, where it’s quieter and warmer—but you still keep Jungkook’s fleece on anyway, breathing in the lovely smell of his fabric softener as you idly count items, taking it slow.

You’ve climbed a stepladder so that you can reach a higher shelf, mentally tallying the cans of coke you find up there; you shuffle through them so you can turn the labels towards you, making sure you’re keeping the different flavours separate. (What’s the difference between diet and zero sugar, anyway? Aren’t they both the same thing?)

“Did I just see a pigeon walk past?”

You startle and nearly knock your row of cans off the shelf. Somehow you hadn’t noticed Jungkook walking into the warehouse, even though he clearly hadn’t meant to surprise you; his hands fly out to steady the stepladder, and though you appreciate this it throws you off balance and so you grab the shelf in front of you. One of the cans falls off, jostled by your movements, and your instinct is to try and catch it with your foot so it at least slows enough before it hits the ground that it doesn’t explode.

In theory, it’s not a bad idea. In reality, you wildly overestimate how heavy the can is and so you put way too much power into the swing of your leg and punt the can of coke into the distance. The two of you trace its arcing trajectory as it disappears over the metal racking before landing with a distinctly wet clatter. Yeah, it’s definitely exploded, hasn’t it.

“Wasn’t me,” you say immediately, but then your slower-than-normal brain catches up with what Jungkook just said. “Wait, what?”

“I was wondering if you saw a pigeon walking around,” Jungkook says. “I think I saw it walking from the back entrance into here?”

Much to his obvious surprise, your eyes light up. You’re maybe not as exuberant as usual because of your illness but you’re still clearly excited. “Oh!” You hop down off the stepladder, nearly losing your balance for a second—maybe you are a teensy weensy bit sick—but then straighten up before Jungkook can help steady you. “Shortbread’s back!”

Jungkook looks baffled but follows after you when you start to walk, abandoning your stock counts. “Shortbread?”

“Yeah! Hold on, you’re taller than me. You see that bit of metal that juts out of the ceiling there?”

Jungkook looks at where you’re pointing. It’s against the back wall of the warehouse, the ceiling lower here than in the rest of the room, panelling and wires supported by criss-crossing bars of thick blue metal. “Yeah?”

“Can you reach up there and feel around a bit?” Jungkook makes a face, clearly not wanting to shove his hand into some mysterious hidden nook, but you look up at him with the best puppy dog eyes you can muster. You probably look like a wreck (what with how sick you are) but Jungkook relents immediately anyway; you think it's because he's nice and not because your attempt at being cute had been successful. He cranes upwards and feels around with his hand until it makes contact with crinkly plastic, and you motion for him to grab it—it’s an open pack of biscuits, with a receipt wedged inside that has your name scribbled on it.

“Gimme, gimme.” You make grabby hands at him. He tilts it towards you and you latch onto a biscuit, which is clearly stale; it crumbles almost immediately in your hands but you don’t pay it any mind, gesturing for him to put the tray back in its hiding place. “Where did you see the pigeon last?”

“Uh, near the soup, I think,” Jungkook answers. You immediately head in that direction, talking over your shoulder as he follows after you.

“You’ve seen that fishing net near the cardboard baler, right?” Your eyes flit to and fro, trying to spot the errant pigeon.

“Yeah, the green one? I was wondering why that was there.”

You click your tongue. “A few months ago we had a pigeon who kept flying here and wandering into the building,” you explain. “We knew it was the same pigeon because it has a tag around its leg? I think it’s a tracker pigeon, I don’t know. So I would use biscuits to get it to follow me outside. But then management got the net and someone said they caught it and, uh, ‘disposed’ of it.” You look equal parts distressed and sad and Jungkook’s chest twinges. “I haven’t seen it since, so even though I hoped that it wasn't the truth, I kind of accepted that it probably was.”

You round the corner past soups, heading towards the cereal overstock, when you both spot the pigeon. It’s slowly walking backwards and forwards on the floor, but when you appear, it stops and looks at you.

“Shortbread! It is you!” You sound absolutely elated, squatting down and proffering the mess of crumbs in your hand, sprinkling them in front of you. “I knew they hadn’t caught you!”

The pigeon—Shortbread—hops forward immediately, heading straight for the crumbs. You laugh in delight as it gets closer and starts to peck at the food. “You’ve gotta stop coming here, bud, Sejin’s going to get really mad if he spots you,” you say. Shortbread, of course, ignores you, more intent on eating the crumbs of—well, the crumbs of shortbread that you’ve given it. You look away from the pigeon, up at Jungkook, who’s watching you with an expression on his face that you can only describe as consternation. Does he dislike pigeons, maybe? “Do you want to feed him?”

“Doyouwanttogetcoffeewithme?” Jungkook blurts. The remaining crumbs of biscuit fall out of your hand, scattering into a wild constellation of fragments that Shortbread immediately swoops down onto—but you’re not paying the bird any mind, completely blindsided.

“Uh. What?” You stare up at Jungkook. Your mouth is open and slack with surprise; you hadn’t quite caught his words, but you could have sworn that he said— “Come again?”

Jungkook’s put a hand over his face, which is starting to turn red. “Do you—do you want to get coffee with me?” Even though he’s turned his head away from you, his eyes are pointed in your direction; Shortbread makes a cooing noise and starts to peck at the crumbs directly in front of you, but neither of you pay the pigeon any attention.

“Uh.” You know your brain is running on around 25% capacity right now, a mixture of your sickness and lack of sleep catching up with you, but you could swear that—what does Jungkook mean—nah, he doesn’t mean that, no way… haha… unless…? “You… want to get coffee? You know where we keep the jar.” Shortbread pecks at your open palm, a few crumbs still stuck to your skin. You’re momentarily distracted from your mental breakdown, giggling at the sensation of the pigeon’s beak, even though it hurts your throat to laugh. “Shortbread, there’s way more food on the floor, why are you trying to eat from my hand?”

“Y/n.” When Jungkook says your name your eyes snap back towards him. “Can I take you out on a date?”

This time you do catch all his words. Your mouth falls open again and you stare at him like the dumbass you are. Is Jeon Jungkook—your cute, kind, buff angel seriously asking you out? Right now? When you're squatting on a dusty warehouse floor with a handful of stale biscuit crumbs, wearing the world’s least flattering uniform, all while looking like some sort of washed out river corpse? (Thanks for that lovely comparison, Yoongi.) Has he lost his mind? Maybe lifting all those heavy crates meant that all the blood has run into his arm muscles rather than his brain and it's been starved of oxygen, because there’s no sane reason as to why Jungkook would be asking you out on a date.

“Me? A date?” Your voice comes out as a squeak. “With you?”

Jungkook looks absolutely mortified. You didn’t realise someone’s cheeks could go that red. “Forget I said anything,” he says, turning on his heel so that he can walk away; you catch a glimpse of bright crimson climbing up the back of his neck and the tips of his ears, too.

“No, wait, Jungkook!” You snap up from your squatting position and grab Jungkook’s shoulder, smearing crumbs onto his shirt. You feel light headed as he starts to turn around, but not because he’s looking at you—you’d stood up too quickly and you feel woozy from your illness, swaying off balance.

You nearly careen sideways into some cereal overstock. Jungkook’s eyes fly wide open in alarm, interposing himself so that you land against him instead. There’s the sound of metal clattering as your weight sends Jungkook into the cereal, rattling the cage, but he holds you steady. You still feel a bit faint, but now you’re sure that it’s partially due to the fact that you’re crushed up against Jungkook’s warm, firm chest, his hands on your hips as he frowns down at you.

“Are you alright?”

“Never better,” you mumble into the fabric of his polo shirt. (Jungkook's at risk of you snotting on him if your nose starts to run, but he doesn’t seem to care.) He smells even better up close than you ever could have imagined—thank god your sense of smell is still intact—and you melt against him for a second before your brain catches up with the situation and your head snaps back so that you can look at him. “Wait. Why were you about to leave?”

Jungkook’s look of concern turns instantaneously into one of embarrassment. “No reason,” he says, voice higher than normal, clearly uncomfortable.

You clench your fist and hit his firm chest, but with no strength behind the punch; your hand may as well have been a slice of bread for all the impact it makes. “Liar.” There’s no heat behind your words. “Did you seriously ask me on a date?”

Jungkook’s face is reddening again, but you’re still leaning against him. He can’t try to escape this time. “Uh. Yes?” From this close you can count his individual eyelashes, pick out the moles that dot his face, and, yep, you were right, he’s even better up close. “I’m sorry?”

You blink. “Sorry? For asking me out? Jungkook. Do you seriously think I’d say no?”

“... yes?” Jungkook’s voice is a squeak, much like yours had been a moment earlier. Holy shit. Does he not realise how amazing and hot he is? Does he seriously think that you, resident clown, would turn him down? Does he think you’re the one who’s out of his league?

You try to put this into words. Try to ask him this gently, so you can highlight just how ridiculous he’s being. However, what comes out of your mouth is: “Are you an idiot?” Thanks, brain, for once again abandoning you in your greatest time of need. Quick, reel it back. “Why would you think that?”

Jungkook, to your eternal gratitude, doesn’t seem offended at your implication that he’s stupid. He just seems flustered. “I—you’re just so unapologetically you, you know?” He says. "You're charismatic and confident and everyone likes you. You’re the most popular person on night shift. I’m too shy to talk to anyone and I just do the same thing every night I’m here, but you can do everything. I always saw you talking to the other morning workers and you were always so nice, but you never spoke to me? When you introduced yourself to me after I moved to nights, I was confused, but, uh, really happy.”

Holy shit. He really does think that you’re out of his league. He looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up after this little speech, mouth snapping shut while his cheeks continue to blaze red. He's so cute. He's going to be the death of you.

“Jungkook. I didn’t talk to you before night shift because you made me so fucking nervous,” you say. “I could barely look at you for weeks because you’re so beautiful that it kind of makes me want to barf sometimes and I couldn’t handle it. But then you moved to nights and I couldn’t avoid talking to you, and I found out how kind and hardworking and interesting you are, and—Jungkook, I don’t think I’ve ever crushed this hard on anyone in my life.” Why are you telling him all this? You must be more sick than you realise. Your mouth is entirely out of your control. “I get so excited for work now because it means I get to see you. Yoongi and Jimin have been listening to me gush about you for months. And Hobi too, but you don't know him. But I didn’t think you’d ever like me back so I didn’t say anything,” you admit, and the tiny part of your brain that’s still functional shoots a prayer off to God, or anyone else who’s listening, begging to be struck down by lightning. No such luck. “Uh. Basically, yes, Jungkook, I would love to go on a date with you, please excuse my rambling, my brain feels like it’s full of cotton.”

Jungkook’s eyes are wide. He’s staring at you like he can’t believe anything you’re saying. You abruptly realise that the two of you are still wrapped around each other in a very compromising position, in an area of the building where anyone could appear at any moment—not to mention that Shortbread is still fluttering around nearby, eating up crumbs with typical pigeon inefficiency.

“You—you think I’m beautiful?” Jungkook asks, and you blush.

“I think you’re the hottest person who’s ever existed, probably,” you answer honestly. “Please don’t ask more questions, I start to feel queasy whenever I have to express real emotion.”

“Y/n.” Jungkook seems to be rapidly getting over his shock, and a smile starts curling at his lips, and—yeah, you still wanna lick his teeth. Good to know. “I couldn’t possibly be the hottest person who’s ever existed.”

You snort, even though the action grates the back of your nose and throat. “Where’s your evidence?”

Jungkook gently squeezes you. “Right here,” he says.

Your brain desperately scrabbles for purchase in reality, shutting down and then rebooting, internet modem sounds crackling slowly in your head as you try to get to grips with the fact that Jungkook just did that, even though the motion was meant to be tender. Why must your mind be so dirty?

Wait.

Wait, he thinks you’re hot?

“Jungkook, I look like death,” you say, and although you’re ostensibly referring to the fact you’re sick right now (fine, you’ll admit it, you’re sick), it’s more of a general statement.

“You’re gorgeous,” Jungkook says, deadly serious. Your heart flutters. What did you do to deserve this boy?

You’ve still got your faces tilted towards each other, and you can’t help but notice Jungkook’s eyes darting down to your lips. You’ve just started to inch closer to each other when your brain finally snaps back to full capacity and you’re shoving your hand in Jungkook’s face; the clean one, thankfully, not the one covered with biscuit crumbs. Seems like your brain came through.

“I don’t want our first kiss to be in the warehouse at work, when I’m sick,” you say. While that’s true, your heart is pounding in your chest at the idea that Jungkook apparently still wants to kiss you despite the fact you definitely need to blow your nose.

“Okay.” Jungkook’s voice is muffled against your palm. “That’s fair. Can you move your hand? It’s kind of hard to breathe like this.”

“Oh, shit, sorry.” You pull your hand away, and Jungkook takes in a deep breath; you feel how his chest expands and you’re once again reminded of how you’re flush against him. Jesus. “Uh, we should probably get Shortbread out of here before someone catches him.”

Jungkook lets you go so you can coax Shortbread towards one of the fire exits. He holds the door open as you squat down, wishing the pigeon good luck before you say goodbye; when you glance back up at Jungkook you notice the look on his face, open and fond, and your heart does a loop de loop in your chest when you realise that he's been looking at you like this a lot—your brain had just refused to let you notice it for what it is. What the heck.

As Jungkook lets the door shut behind you, you clear your throat. “Um. While I do absolutely want to get coffee with you, can it wait until I’m better? I don’t wanna be all crusty and snotty on our first date,” you say, weirdly shy despite the fact it’s obvious that Jungkook seems to think that you hung the moon. (Which you still don’t understand but you’re not complaining, not at all.)

“Sure.” Jungkook smiles and your heart flip flops in your chest again. The feats of acrobatics your heart achieves when Jungkook around is honestly astounding, but everything he does is just so… adorable. You’re certain that when you see him out of his work uniform and in his regular clothes you’re going to spontaneously combust, but you’ll cross that bridge when you come to it. “I should probably get back to fruit and veg, but, I’ll see you for lunch?”

“Yeah.” You smile helplessly back at him. “Of course. See you at lunch.”

Despite the fact you’re worried about getting him sick, Jungkook really doesn’t care about keeping his distance. When Yoongi walks into the canteen to the sight of you snuggled up to Jungkook and giggling as you feed him his lunch, your friend just rolls his eyes. “Kids these days,” he says, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“You’re just jealous that it’s taken me and Jungkook less time to confess to each other than it’s taken you with Jimin,” you say, and then gasp as you remember something. “Oh, Jungkook, that reminds me! What was that long conversation you were having with Jimin the other week?”

Jungkook flushes. “Uh, he was giving me advice on how to ask you out,” he admits sheepishly. “I wasn’t planning on just blurting it out in the warehouse, but you were being so cute that I couldn’t stop myself?”

You stare into Jungkook’s eyes for a few long moments, before solemnly saying: “Jeon Jungkook, if I wasn’t sick, I would absolutely be kissing you right now.”

“Ugh, please don’t,” Yoongi says. Jungkook buries his head into the material of his work fleece, hiding his embarrassment against your shoulder, and you just laugh.

#jungkook fluff #jungkook oneshot #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenario #bts #bts au #cypherwritersnet #bts fluff #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jeongguk #jeongguk x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook x oc #joy.masterlist

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justasoftstan · 4 years ago

Text

This Moment

Characters: Junhui x Reader

Genre/warnings: Angst. Little Fluff. Idol!Reader , Idol!Seventeen Jun

Word count: 1592 words.

The burden of being an idol. How does it really weight?

Is it heavy as the make-up you wear? Or the clothes and costume changes’ you wear?

Is it heavy as the harsh criticisms and training period you must endure?

Is it heavy as the burdens and problems you share with your members that you are leading?

Or is it on the opinions of the media and prying eyes of the public on you and your personal life?

How does a person can carry all of it without breaking their backs and crumbling down when everything else seems to fail? You do not know how, but you managed. Or trying not to crumble down. Not when you have other people to think. If you go down, they will go down too.

So, you close your eyes and take a deep breathe. Allowing yourself to be consumed by the energy coming from the screams and cheers of the people who supported you from the start. They are the exact reason you are standing there. The very people who helped you achieved your dream. The very people who spent their money and time to see you there. You have no excuse for petty problems you have in your life.

“5 MINUTES, BE READY TO BE ONSTAGE”. The shout from one of the directors distracted you from your thoughts, reminding you where you are. You scramble in the dark trying to find your way to your members before going onstage.

There they are, forming a circle. You squeezed in between them, “Sorry, I forgot were doing this.”

“Relax, Leader-nim. We are going to rock this stage tonight.” One of your members said with a reassuring smile. Earning a form of motivational cheering from other members. Well, it seems like you are not the only one nervous tonight.

You did a final speech hyping your members up before wearing the fake confidence you are forced to practice even in the corners of your practice room. Soon you are met by the thousands of people who came to spend their night to see you perform. Allowing their energy to consume you as give your best performing your songs and singing with your heart. It is one of those nights where feel all the energy and the emotions of your songs that feels like it is the only way to express your emotions. And as you prance around the stadium, you see familiar faces cheering alongside the fans. Despite being half-covered, you recognized their faces. It was Dino who you first recognized, shouting for your name when you made eye contact with him. Then he pointed out Jun, who is just a seat from him beside Hoshi. Your first instinct was to wave at them with a big smile. Then one of your members noticed you waving at some guys, and soon she was there beside you are waving along with you, even sending finger hearts at them.

Some fans around them took notice of this and start looking around them. Not long enough, they realized that 5 of the members from Seventeen are in their area. Loud screams from their area ignited as the news spread in that side of the venue. They did not go unnoticed by your other members and soon they are going on that side saying hello to the members of Seventeen. This made you nervous and self-conscious as you go on with your concert. It didn’t help when you heard a fan in the crowd say, “Yah! Seventeen is here watching the concert. Bet they are dating one of them.”

The weight of those words lingered on your mind as the light gone off and you descended backstage. Are we getting obvious? Are my actions getting easy to read? Did the fans know? Or did they just make an assumption? Thoughts are running in your mind as you are led into changing rooms for a quick costume change before the final part of the concert. The other members are cheerily sharing stories and funny encounters they had during the concert. One of them even saying she saw a fan screaming loudly because she saw seventeen not the dance break. This makes you even more nervous.

It is not a secret that your group and the seventeen are close. Despite not debuting at the same time, most of your members are the same age with the maknae line. Keeping a close relationship with the latter group. Fans even admire the senior and junior relationship your group have with them. But will they admire you still if they found out that you are dating one of their members? You just opt to expect the worst-case scenario. It is your members that only knows about your relationship with Jun. Not really trusting your outside circle and definitely not agency and the media. You would not take the risk.

Your change of demeanor does not go unnoticed by Jun when your group came back the stage for the final part of the concert. Your stiff posture and calculated moves, trying not to face their area are already a confirmation that you are avoiding interaction with them. He would not deny that this hurts him too. The weight of you being a leader is enough and he would not want to add another burden to you because this relationship between the two of you. He too, is scared if the media exposes your relationship, he will not want you to be hurt, he wanted to be your comfort, the one who will be there for you when the world crumbles down. Now he is having second thoughts if coming here for support added some stress in you. For him it is the only thing that he knows to express his love for you. Even if it is masked by being a senior in the industry in order to protect you.

Even your members did notice your stiff posture, constantly joining you on stage, putting their arms around you and being playful with you trying to cheer you up. It did cheer you up and you are thankful for the members deeply for being there always. You kept your energy up, trying all the things to keep that smile on your face. Until one of your ending songs came, the melody of the song undeniably makes people cry.

You probably will not know yet

How precious you are

I hope the you in you don’t forget

Your every moment, moment

If I tell you this, will you know

That the paths you’ve walked on are beautiful

If you pause for a while and look back you’ll know

The beautiful moments you’ve left behind

It feels like you are singing to yourself. The lyrics consumes your body, and you can’t help but to tear up.

Your every moment is all you

Wherever you’re standing

I will hug you so you won’t feel hurt

Just like the day you hugged me

I love all of your every moment, moment

Even if the day comes when I’m not by your side

Even if I remain just as a small piece of memory

I’m fine, they are all your moments

After the chorus you are full blown crying, you are thankful that you are placed behind the members so that the fans do not notice your tears and you try to wipe your tears away.

Just like the day you hugged me

Always like that day

I am thankful for having met you

Who left happiness in my life

I will remember this moment

No matter what hardships come

We will always be together

You remember this moment. This in front your fans, together with your members. Despite the burden of being an idol and the hardships you have to go through; you’ve found happiness in your life. From the encouraging words your fans, the overflowing love and support you receive from the people whom you do not even know personally. Even if you think you did not deserve any of this. You will definitely remember this moment. You will treasure it deeply in your heart. That is why you sing the last few parts of the song with that in mind.

Remember this moment, moment

This happiness that we discovered together

I will hug you so you won’t feel hurt

Just like how we’ve always done for each other

Even when the days we’ve been together become moments

And the days we were together all leave

Love the past days that we were each other’s moment

Every moment, moment

The concert ended well, and you cannot wait to go home and rest. When you and your members had gone backstage you are welcomed by a strong pair of arms, engulfing you in a tight hug.

“You did well. I am so proud of you. You deserved all the love that you receive, and I hope you don’t doubt yourself anymore.” Jun said softly in your ear as he gently swayed the two of you. Hearing those words, you hugged him tighter burying your head in chest. Muttering a couple of thank you’s. The two of you stayed like that a couple of seconds before Hoshi grabbed you out of Jun to hug you pouting playfully that you do not pay attention to him. You just laughed as your other members boo’ed him. This moment right here, together with your members and your loving boyfriend, you know that you have enough to face anything and share the burden of being an idol.

a/n: I really liked this imagine and spent my afternoon making this. This is by far the longest imagine that I wrote. The song I used is Moment by Apink.

- summer

Masterlist ┃ Navigation ┃ Requests

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen drabbles #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen angst #jun #jun imagines #junhui imagines #jun scenarios #junhui scenarios #junhui drabbles #jun drabbles #junhui x reader #jun x reader #junhui angst #jun angst #jss: imagines #jss:requests

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thoughts-on-bangtan · 4 years ago

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Let’s talk about ‘Friends’ by BTS

by Admin 1

Friends is the subunit song by Jimin and Taehyung (co-written and co-produced by Jimin) from Map of the Soul : 7 which was released in February 2020. Interestingly enough, the Korean title is actually 친구, a word that is only used for friends of the same age, which is how ARMY figured out that it had to be their subunit prior to the release of the album.

On a very surface level, Friends is about the bond between Jimin and Taehyung recounting different little stories over the years, including the now famous dumpling incident which was first presented to us as a conflict that merely took up a few hours. Actually though it was a conflict that grew big enough that Jimin and Taehyung barely spoke to each other for two weeks and it culminated in Jimin getting drunk with Yoongi and then meeting Taehyung at a park at 4 am to make up. Yes, the same park at 4 am that Taehyung and Namjoon sing about in 4 O’Clock. That song, like many suspected, really was about Jimin and Taehyung as well.

But, while Friends might seem simple and fun on the outside, especially due to the upbeat melody and anthem like chorus, I think there is far more to it than meets the eye. Stella Jang, who co-wrote the lyrics, said in an interview with K-Pop Herald that BigHit sent her an email which contained the song as well as long stories about Jimin’s and Taehyung’s bond and based on that she was supposed to write short lyrics. She also had a friend, who is an ARMY, help her truly understand the depth of their bond. That alone to me shows that this goes far deeper than most might assume, and others wish for it.

Hello my alien We’re each other’s mystery Would it be why it’s more special

This verse for me is very interesting, especially since Jimin reclaims a nickname that people used to call Taehyung by which he hated. Instead Jimin turned it into something endearing, something that now belongs to them instead of others. It’s also noteworthy that that specific line is in English, not Korean, and he says my alien, so basically telling the listener that he takes some kind of claim over Taehyung, connects them in a way that anyone would understand, and unmistakably highlights that he’s the only one to call him like this because Taehyung is special to him, much the way you’d call someone dear to you/someone you love by an endearment such as ‘my darling’ or ‘my love’.

More below the cut:

The mystery part could refer to the early days of their friendship, the times when they were just getting to know each other and trying to figure out their dynamic and each other in a more general sense. We know they almost instantly became friends, stuck to each other and spent a lot of time together, despite constantly getting in little fights, but perhaps those struggles were what made the end result that much more special to them. Interesting to note is also how Jimin once said that when he saw Tae for the first time he experienced many different emotions (he didn’t specify which ones though), and how to this day he remembers Tae only wearing those red shorts and snapback and how even then he already looked like an idol/celebrity.

But the line could also refer to something more recent, or something more overarching, like a secret about themselves that only they know about, that they share and guard together.

Someday, when these cheers die down, stay hey Stay with me by my side Forever, keep staying here, hey

and

Someday, when these cheers die down, stay hey You are my soulmate Forever, keep staying here, hey You are my soulmate

These two might just be the most important parts of the song, and the ones that seem to be the hardest to swallow for some. This is basically Jimin and Taehyung asking each other to stay together forever, even when (or especially when) their careers will be over and BTS won’t be such a main and overarching reason for them to stay by each other anymore, so to speak. It implies that what they have is something they want to last forever, that it reaches far beyond them just being two best friends inside a group, but that they are rather two people who found ‘their person’ in each other. They know they’ve found something one of a kind, once in a lifetime, and want to hold on to it, to each other. It’s also them proclaiming and reminding everyone once again that they are soulmates, that this isn’t just something ARMY made up, some shipping agenda or anything like it, but that it is truly the title they see most fit for each other, that it basically feels like their bond was destiny and they were always meant to be together. You are my soulmate is also in English, something that every listener will understand, something so important they specifically made it this way so you wouldn’t need to look up translations from Korean to get it.

Sidenote--somehow soulmate has become a very debated term in connection to vmin so lets look at the definition for soulmate that wikipedia gives us: A soulmate is a person with whom one has a feeling of deep or natural affinity. This may involve similarity, love, romance, platonic relationships, comfort, intimacy, sexuality, sexual activity, spirituality, compatibility and trust. Most of these are rather connected to the most traditional way in which people imagine soulmates, as in two people destined for each other, lovers perfect for one another. Of course there are friendship type soulmates, but those are far more rare in peoples minds. The point I’m getting at is that Jimin and Taehyung never defined which type of soulmate they are, and until I saw non-vminies have a fight about how they’re definitely just platonic ones, I never even really saw the word soulmate in connection with ‘platonic’. In a way you could argue that both sides are right, that they are both friendship soulmates but also romantic ones as well, their bond encompassing both. But in the end, of course, that’s something only they can confirm yet I thought I’ll mention it anyway.

Like your pinky, we’re still the same I know your everything We must trust each other Don’t forget Instead of an obvious thank-you, you and I — let’s promise that we won’t fight tomorrow, for real

These lines may seem so simple, short and sweet, but I think there is a lot of meaning to them, a lot that’s written between the lines and potentially only something they understand the true extent of. I know your everything is another reminder that they are each others secret keepers, each others closest confidants, their person to go to and laugh or cry or celebrate with. Jimin and Taehyung have something that is rare, one of a kind, and it’s something beautiful that should be regarded with respect and wonder since it’s close to a miracle that they met and formed their bond in such a manner. After all Jimin is from Busan and Taehyung from Daegu, chances are, if BTS hadn’t happened, they might’ve never met, though looking at everything BTS have said about each other, they seem to believe they were all destined to meet regardless if as members of BTS or as normal people. The same most likely would’ve also have been the case for Jimin and Taehyung, and Friends is a beautiful piece of proof of that.

Many dismiss Friends as just a song about their friendship, but I think once you truly think about the lyrics and the thoughts that must’ve gone into it, you might change your mind. Even more so when you take into account what Namjoon said about Friends in his MOTS:7 vlive, how he wouldn’t even dare try writing any of the lyrics because he could never, ever do them justice, and how just thinking about the bond Taehyung and Jimin have, he gets goosebumps. That alone already says a lot, implies a lot of different things, very deep and (in my opinion) potentially more than just friends type things. There was also a moment during Bon Voyage 3 in Malta where Namjoon and Seokjin were at a restaurant together and somehow they brought up Taehyung and Jimin and both just shook their heads at how they are just--something, something apparently meaningful enough neither dared to voice it.

Friends might not be something you’d call a traditionally romantic or love song by any means, at least sound wise, but I’d argue the lyrics tell a completely different story, one of a bond that binds two souls, that combines friendship and love (both the love you have for a cherished friend, but also the one you feel for a romantic partner, I’d argue). The song, as well as 4 O’Clock are far more than meets the eye, you just have to be open and willing enough to see it.

After all Taehyung did say: “95z is love.” The biggest clue of them all.

(Lyric snippets taken from 친구 (Friends))

#bts #vmin #Vmin friends song #song analysis #song commentary #taehyung #jimin #kim taehyung #park jimin #BTS V #map of the soul 7 #4 o clock #bangtan seonyandan #bts jimin

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dameronology · 4 years ago

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an insight into forever {poe dameron x reader}

summary: imagine having a love so deep that is completely unwavering - even in the face of broken promises, unspoken words and unfinished conversations

warnings: ANGST, so much angst, swearing, mentions of death

enjoy :) this hurt to write

- jazz

Poe Dameron had a tendency to not think before he spoke.

It was bad at the best of times - and it only got worst when he was around.

Worst, because you were the love of his life. Worst, because you were the most beautiful human being he’d ever had the pleasure of laying his eyes on. Worst, because he was completely and utterly obsessed you and worst, he’d let you go. He’d done a lot of stupid things - really, really stupid things - but allowing your relationship to reach a better end took the cake. Heck, it baked the cake and threw it into the fucking ceiling fan. Left splatters all up the wall and on the carpet and over his heart. Stained his heart with marks of your relationship, destined to keep him trapped in your unwitting grips until he met his untimely demise, probably in cockpit of an X-Wing (refer back to the really, really stupid things.)

He’d been through a couple break ups but this felt like the be-all-and-end-all. You’d given back his jumpers and jackets and belongings that he’d left in your room, but you still held onto a few tiny pieces of Poe’s heart. It was like a subtle, permanent grip on his brain; he occasionally thought about you but was always painfully aware that he’d let go of the best person in the galaxy. You were a once in the lifetime thing, like winning the lottery or finding gold at the bottom of a rainbow. Both of those were things he’d willingly forfeit in a second if it meant having you back.

So, you probably get the point: Poe was sad, your break-up was bad and you were a little mad (that was a rhyme Finn came up with to summarise the events of your relationship’s bitter demise to anyone who asked). It had been a few months, and you were both finally at the point where you could hang out as a group of five friends with it only being slightly awkward. It had only taken a minor intervention from Rey, Finn and Rose to get you to acknowledge one another again, but it was the first step to being friends. That’s what you’d been before, and if you could just set aside your differences, perhaps you could be there again.

The five of you always made a point to hang out together on a Friday. Your jobs in the Resistance took up every waking second during the week, so it was strictly marked in your calendar as friend time and you would all be there without fail. Usually, you found yourselves in a small cantina in one of the little villages a few miles out from the base on Ajan Kloss. It was the one day a week that things actually felt a little normal; just five young friends and some alcohol, laughing together and having a good time.

There was always something lingering in the air between you and Poe -- stolen glances and sneaky looks, and an atmosphere that paid ode to a million unsaid things and a plethora of unfinished conversations. Arguments that never reached conclusions and hearts that never quite healed; yours nor his. To force it all into a box and slam it shut and to process that hurt with proper closure was holding you back. Clinging onto your shoulders with a mighty grip that prevented you from truly moving on.

‘So, that cute mechanic asked about you today.’ Rose’s voice pulled your attention away from the pilot and back to the painfully Poe-free reality in which you found yourself.

‘He did?’ You blinked in surprise.

‘You did go on a date last week without calling him back.’ She reminded you. ‘He wasn’t bothered. I think he got it - everyone gets a bit busy in this line of work, right?’

Yeah, because that’s why you hadn’t replied to his 27 text messages.

‘I didn’t realise you were even dating again.’ Finn observed, eyes briefly flickering to his best friend. ‘I mean, not that it’s a bad thing, it’s just-’

‘- Finn.’ You cut him off. ‘It’s fine. Poe and I are friends now, right?’

Poe simply looked up, dark eyes shifting from his half-finished drink. He didn’t say anything for a moment, instead giving you a look that emanated the vibe he’d rather swim naked through the seas of Hoth than answer than question. It wasn’t until Finn cleared his throat that he pulled away from your gaze and forced the fakest smile smile known to man, and every other creature that roamed the galaxy.

‘Right.’ Did he normally speak through gritted teeth?

‘So, d’you like this guy?’ Rey asked. ‘He seemed nice when I met him in the air hangar.’

‘He’s...’ you paused. Annoying, whiny, argumentative, has a voice like a foghorn and, most importantly, isn’t Poe Dameron. ‘Fine.’

‘So are you gonna call him back?’ Rose pushed. ‘Because the minute you bring someone new to the table, I can set up ol’ flyboy here with the cute girl from comms who’s been eyeing him up.’

‘I’m okay, but thanks.’ Poe’s fake smile barely faltered, eyes landing on you again. ‘I don’t need a relationship when I have such fulfilling friendships.’

You almost choked on your drink at that. The irony was laying in the fact that you used to love Poe’s little sarcastic jabs and backhanded comments - at least when you’d been sat beside him, laughing into his shoulder and holding his hand under the table. Now, you were in the line of fire and maker knew you’d left your bulletproof vest at home.

Needless to say, his forced smile fell when you gave him a kick on the shin under the table.

‘So..you and Cute Mechanic. Not a thing?’ Finn asked.

‘Definitely not a thing.’ You confirmed.

‘You don’t have to say it on my behalf.’ Poe said. ‘If you like the guy, you can talk about it in front of me.’

‘Don’t flatter yourself.’ You snorted. ‘It’s nothing to do with you. I genuinely don’t like him.’

That was half true: you didn’t like the guy, but it was everything to do with Poe. You could have met the holy grail of men and they still wouldn’t have had a chance in hell. That’s not to say that Poe wasn’t the holy grail, but he was flawed. So you were you. It was those flaws that had lead to your downfall in the first place. Fundamentally, everyone had to have them -- it just so happened that the best parts of you clicked so well and the flawed parts of you clashed so badly. The good times and bad parts were so different that they were like two different ends of a magnet; complete opposites and inevitably polarising.

Rose, sensing the tension between the two of you, suddenly pushed to change the subject. ‘So, did anyone see the General-’

‘- I’m gonna go now.’ You stood up. ‘I’m really tired and I have an early meeting tomorrow.’

All four of them knew that was bullshit. There were no meetings on a Saturday, but they kept schtum. There was a chorus of okay, get some rest! and see you tomorrow, but Poe didn’t say anything. He just kept you in his gaze, watching as you gathered up your things and headed for the door.

The air outside was cold; Ajan Kloss had hot, hot summers and freezing winters. You fumbled to pull your jacket over your shoulders as you stalked away, boots thundering against the muddy path as you headed back for the base. It was only a fifteen minute walk, and it was safe for the most part. Everyone on the planet was either a native villager - all of whom were humble and welcoming - or a fellow Rebel.

You didn’t bother to turn around when you head foot-steps behind you. It was a Friday night, which meant that there was going to be people around.

It was only when somebody grabbed you by the shoulder that you suddenly spun on your heel -- luckily, Poe Dameron managed to catch your fist in time to save it hitting his face. It wasn’t personal. It was natural to get a little trigger happy with the ol’ mitt when a stranger grabbed you in the dark. Only, it wasn’t a stranger. It was your ex-boyfriend, looking as handsome as ever with disheveled hair and a five o’ clock shadow.

‘For fuck’s sake!’ You snapped. ‘What the hell are you doing?!’

‘I came to check you were okay!’ Poe released his grip on your wrist, letting it flop to your side. ‘You only ever stalk out like that when you’re mad.’

‘No thanks to you.’ You shot back. ‘I’m fine. Just go back to the bar.’

‘Short sentences meaning you’re fuming-’

‘- I’m about to be well past that point.’ You cut him off. ‘Go back. Don’t worry about me.’

‘I wanted to talk to you anyways.’ He admitted.

‘About what?’

‘About what you said back there.’ Poe replied. ‘I genuinely meant what I said. I don’t want you to not try things with that new guy because of me.’

‘Poe, I-’

‘- I mean it.’ He continued. ‘I just wanted you to know.’

‘Wanted me to know what?’ You murmured. ‘That I need your permission to date other people?’

‘No, that’s not what I’m saying.’ He frowned at your words. ‘I just...I mean that I wanted you to know that it’s okay if you don’t love me anymore.’

Well if that wasn’t like a knife through the fucking chest, you didn’t know what was.

What hurt more? The fact he was officially letting you go, or the fact he thought you were even capable of falling out of love with him? Because that, you weren’t. Poe might have been the most stubborn, most annoying, most chaotic person you knew but he was everything. Everything you wanted and everything you needed - but everything you couldn’t have. You were two parts of a screwed up whole. Bad apart, but probably even worse off together. It was pretty fucked up of whoever was in the sky that they’d put you both in the galaxy at the same time. Existing without him was less painful than existing in a world where you couldn’t be together.

‘Poe...’ your voice was small, a tiny crack appearing in the middle of his name.

‘Me being an ass is just a defence mechanism.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘And I’m sorry.’

‘I haven’t fallen out of love with you.’ You ignored his apology.

‘Like I said, it’s okay.’ He shook his head. ‘I can see it in your eyes.’

‘If you think you can see it in my eyes then you clearly don’t know me at all.’ Your voice shook, but you managed to throw the accusation at him. An admirable trait, surely.

‘I don’t think I do.’ He admitted. ‘Not anymore.’

The next morning, Poe was sat in the canteen. He didn’t normally rise so early on weekends, but thanks to your discussion the night before, sleep had alluded him.

Instead, he was staring aimlessly at his whole bowl of oatmeal. He’d been stirring it around for the better of an hour, thinking of nothing but you. He thought it was sweet of you to have rejected his claims of love (or lack thereof) but nothing you could have said would have made him believe you. It all stemmed down to the fact that he’d spent so long convincing himself of it. If he truly believed - or at least thought he believed - that you didn’t love him anymore, then he wouldn’t fool himself to having false hope, He was more likely to force himself to pull his head out his backside and move on. It was less painful that way, to rip it off like a bandaid. There was no hope if there was no love. Both of those things were and few these days.

Poe jumped out of his exhausted, self-inflicted trance when something slammed on the table in front of him. He practically jumped out of his seat, oatmeal flying everywhere as he let out a yelp. He was about to open his mouth and yell, to cry in vain of his airborne breakfast, but he immediately stopped when he saw you staring down at him.

‘Do you really think I stopped loving you?’

He huffed. ‘I’m not having this conversation with you.’

‘Yes, you are.’ You snapped. ‘Answer the question, Poe. Do you really think I stopped loving you?’

‘What’s this?’ He asked, eyes falling onto the piece of paper resting atop the table.

‘Do you remember a few weeks ago when I went on that mission to Nevarro?’ You asked.

‘Uh, yeah.’ Poe scratched the back of his hair. ‘That dangerous one.’

‘Yeah, the dangerous one.’ You placed one leg over the bench seat opposite him, dropping down onto the table with a thud. ‘I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it back.’

‘None of us were.’

‘This is a letter I asked Leia to give to you in case I died.’ You slid it across to him. ‘You should give it read.’

‘What are you doing?’ Poe sighed.

‘I’m proving a point, Dameron.’

‘Yeah, you’ve always been good at that.’ He snatched the letter from you, pulling it open. ‘You just gonna stare at me the whole time that I read this?’

‘Yup.’

Another sigh escaped his lips as he tore it open, eyes briefly scanning the page for a moment. His brow furrowed - was it possible to feel like words were punching you in the throat?

Poe,

If you’re reading this, it’s either because I’m dead or M.I.A, or you’ve been snooping through Leia’s desk draw in search of that damned Coruscanti candy again. If it’s the latter, put this fucking down. Because it means I’m alive, and I’ll find you and throttle you. If it’s because of the first one, then keep reading, because it means I’m gone. Turns out that I only act immortal.

I should preface this by saying that I’m sorry. Sorry that we didn’t get to be together again and sorry that I didn’t try harder to make it happen. Please know that it’s what I wanted more than anything. You probably already know it, but I never stopped loving you. I died loving you (hopefully in a bad-ass way) and because death is, rather unfortunately, a permanent state, it means that I’ll love you forever.

I’m only being bold with my words because I know you won’t be around for me to be embarrassed by how soft you’ve made me, but you’re my best friend. My other half and my whole world. You made me feel safe and loved and by all intents and purposes, you are my home. Whoever ends up getting to marry you - because you will find someone; the galaxy is a large place and there is another person out there who will find your annoying ass to be rather charming - is the luckiest fucking person ever. I’m just sorry that I can’t be there to watch it happen, and even more sorry that it couldn’t be me.

Love you always, flyboy

- (name)

p.s I have a cactus on my window ledge. Can you water it for me? Thanks.

Poe’s eyes were bleary with tears by the end - at the thought of you dying, at the thought of him being the last person you thought of before you went on that mission. The mission that he’d sent you on, as your Commander. He’d caused you grief without even trying.

‘That mission was two weeks ago.’ He looked up at you, not even bothering to hide the water in his eyes. ‘You wrote this two weeks ago.’

‘Yeah.’ You quietly murmured. Giving a small nod, you stood up from the table and wiped your own eyes. ‘You should hold onto that.’

‘W-where are you going?’

‘I have work to do.’ You stood up. ‘Goodbye, Poe.’

'For now or forever?’ He tried to force a joke, but it didn’t really work in his favour.

‘You had a point in what you said.’ You replied. ‘We should both move on.’

His eyes fell back down to the letter, where a few scrawled words jumped out at him: I’ll love you forever.

Until now, he hadn’t considered the fact that forever was still forever, even when you spent it apart.

tags: @interwebseriesfan24 @spider-starry @itspdameronthings @lifeandloveandhappiness

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